CHAPTER XXIII.
FATHER AND SON.
Two hours after Andre had left the Avenue de Matignon, one of Mascarin'smost trusty emissaries was at his heels, who could watch his actionswith the tenacity of a bloodhound. Andre, however, now that he had heardof Sabine's convalescence, had entirely recovered the elasticity of hisspirits, and would never have noticed that he was being followed. Hisheart, too, was much rejoiced at the friendship of M. de Breulh and thepromise of assistance from the Viscountess de Bois Arden; and with theassistance of these two, he felt that he could end his difficulties.
"I must get to work again," muttered he, as he left M. de Breulh'shospitable house. "I have already lost too much time. To-morrow, if youlook up at the scaffolding of a splendid house in the Champs Elysees,you will see me at work."
Andre was busy all night with his plans for the rich contractor, M.Gandelu, who wanted as much ornamental work on the outside of his houseas he had florid decorations within. He rose with the lark, and havinggazed for a moment on Sabine's portrait, started for the abode of M.Gandelu, the proud father of young Gaston. This celebrated contractorlived in a splendid house in the Rue Chasse d'Antin, until his morepalatial residence should be completed.
When Andre presented himself at the door, an old servant, who knew himwell, strongly urged him not to go up.
"Never," said he, "in all the time that I have been with master, have Iseen him in such a towering rage. Only just listen!"
It was easy to hear the noise alluded to, mingled with the breaking ofglass and the smashing of furniture.
"The master has been at this game for over an hour," remarked theservant, "ever since his lawyer, M. Catenac, has left him."
Andre, however, decided not to postpone his visit. "I must see him inspite of everything; show me up," said he.
With evident reluctance the domestic obeyed, and threw open the door ofa room superbly furnished and decorated, in the centre of which stood M.Gandelu waving the leg of a chair frantically in his hand. He was a manof sixty years of age, but did not look fifty, built like a Hercules,with huge hands and muscular limbs which seemed to fret under therestraint of his fashionable garments. He had made his enormous fortune,of which he was considerably proud, by honest labor, and no one couldsay that he had not acted fairly throughout his whole career. He wascoarse and violent in his manner, but he had a generous heart and neverrefused aid to the deserving and needy. He swore like a trooper, and hisgrammar was faulty; but for all that, his heart was in the right place,and he was a better man than many who boast of high birth and expensiveeducation.
"What idiot is coming here to annoy me?" roared he, as soon as the doorwas opened.
"I have come by appointment," answered Andre, and the contractor's browcleared as he saw who his visitor was.
"Ah, it is you, is it? Take a seat; that is, if there is a sound chairleft in the room. I like you, for you have an honest face and don'tshirk hard work. You needn't color up, though; modesty is no fault. Yes,there is something in you, and when you want a hundred thousandfrancs to go into business with, here it is ready for you; and had I adaughter, you should marry her, and I would build your house for you."
"I thank you much," said Andre; "but I have learned to depend entirelyon myself."
"True," returned Gandelu, "you never knew your parents; you never knewwhat a kind father would do for his child. Do you know my son?" askedhe, suddenly turning upon Andre.
This question at once gave Andre the solution of the scene before him.M. Gandelu was irritated at some folly that his son had committed. Fora moment Andre hesitated; he did not care to say anything that mightrevive the old man's feeling of anger, and therefore merely replied thathe had only met his son Gaston two or three times.
"Gaston," cried the old man, with a bitter oath; "do not call him that.Do you think it likely that old Nicholas Gandelu would ever have beenass enough to call his son Gaston? He was called Peter, after hisgrandfather, but it wasn't a good enough one for the young fool; hewanted a swell name, and Peter had too much the savor of hard work init for my fine gentleman. But that isn't all; I could let that pass,"continued the old man. "Pray have you seen his cards? Over the name ofGaston de Gandelu is a count's coronet. He a count indeed! the son of aman who has carried a hod for years!"
"Young people will be young people," Andre ventured to observe; but theold man's wrath would not be assuaged by a platitude like this.
"You can find no excuse for him, only the fellow is absolutely ashamedof his father. He consorts with titled fools and is in the seventhheaven if a waiter addresses him as 'Count,' not seeing that it is nothe that is treated with respect, but the gold pieces of his old father,the working man."
Andre's position was now a most painful one, and he would have given agood deal not to be the recipient of a confidence which was the resultof anger.
"He is only twenty, and yet see what a wreck he is," resumed Gandelu."His eyes are dim, and he is getting bald; he stoops, and spends hisnights in drink and bad company. I have, however, only myself to blame,for I have been far too lenient; and if he had asked me for my head, Ibelieve that I should have given it to him. He had only to ask and have.After my wife's death, I had only the boy. Do you know what he has inthis house? Why, rooms fit for a prince, two servants and four horses. Iallow him monthly, fifteen hundred francs, and he goes about callingme a niggard, and has already squandered every bit of his poor mother'sfortune." He stopped, and turned pale, for at that moment the dooropened, and young Gaston, or rather Peter, slouched into the room.
"It is the common fate of fathers to be disappointed in their offspring,and to see the sons who ought to have been their honor and glory thescourge to punish their worldly aspirations," exclaimed the old man.
"Good! that is really a very telling speech," murmured Gastonapprovingly, "considering that you have not made a special study ofelocution."
Fortunately his father did not catch these words, and continued in avoice broken by emotion, "That, M. Andre, is my son, who for twentyyears has been my sole care. Well, believe it or not, as you like, hehas been speculating on my death, as you might speculate on a race-horseat Vincennes."
"No, no," put in Gaston, but his father stopped him with a disdainfulgesture.
"Have at least the courage to acknowledge your fault. You thought meblind because I said nothing, but your past conduct has opened my eyes."
"But, father!"
"Do not attempt to deny it. This very morning my man of business, M.Catenac, wrote to me, and with that real courage which only truefriends possess, told me all. I must tell you, M. Andre," resumed thecontractor, "I was ill. I had a severe attack of the gout, such as a manseldom recovers from, and my son was constant in his attendance at mysick couch. This consoled me. 'He loves me after all,' said I. But itwas only my testamentary arrangements that he wanted to discover, andhe went straight to a money-lender called Clergot and raised a hundredthousand francs assuring the blood-sucker that I had not many hours tolive."
"It is a lie!" cried Gaston, his face crimsoning with shame.
The old man raised the leg of the chair in his hand, and made sothreatening a movement that Andre flung himself between father and son."Great heavens!" cried he, "think what you are doing, sir, and forbear."
The old man paused, passed his hand round his brow, and flung the weaponinto a remote corner of the room. "I thank you," said he, graspingAndre's hand; "you have saved me from a great crime. In another moment Ishould have murdered him."
Gaston was no coward, and he still retained the position he had been inbefore.
"This is quite romantic," muttered he. "The governor seems to be goingin for infanticide."
Andre did not allow him to finish the sentence, for, grasping the youngman's wrist, he whispered fiercely, "Not another word; silence!"
"But I want to know what it all means?" answered the irrepressibleyouth.
"I had in my hands," said the old man, addressing Andre, and ignoringthe presenc
e of his son, "the important paper he had copied. Yes; notmore than an hour ago I read it. These were the terms: if I died withineight days from the date of signature, my son agreed to pay a bonus ofthirty thousand francs; but if I lived for one month, he would take upthe bill by paying one hundred and fifty thousand. If, however, by anyunforeseen chance, I should recover entirely, he bound himself to payClergot the hundred thousand francs."
The old man tore the cravat from his swelling throat, and wiped thebeads of cold sweat that bedewed his brow.
"When this man recovers his self-command," thought Andre, "he will neverforgive me for having been the involuntary listener to this terribletale." But in this Andre was mistaken, for unsophisticated naturerequires sympathy, and Nichols Gandelu would have said the same to thefirst comer.
"Before, however, delivering the hundred thousand francs, the usurerwished to make himself more secure, and asked for a certificate fromsome one who had seen me. This person was his friend. He spoke to me ofa medical man, a specialist, who would understand my case at once. WouldI not see him? Never had I seen my son so tender and affectionate. Iyielded to his entreaties at last, and one evening I said to him, 'Bringin this wonderful physician, if you really think he can do anything forme,' and he did bring him.
"Yes, M. Andre, he found a medical man base and vile enough to becomethe tool of my son, and a money-lender; and if I choose, I can exposehim to the loathing of the world, and the contempt of his brethren.
"The fellow came, and his visit lasted nearly an hour. I can see himnow, asking questions and feeling my pulse. He went away at last, and myson followed him. They both met Clergot, who was waiting in the street.'You can pay him the cash; the old man won't last twenty-four hourslonger,' said the doctor; and then my son came back happy and radiant,and assured me that I should soon be well again. And strange as it mayseem, a change for the better took place that very night. Clergot hadasked for forty-eight hours in which to raise the sum required. He heardof my convalescence, and my son lost the money.
"Was it courage you lacked?" asked the old man, turning for the firsttime to his son. "Did you not know that ten drops instead of one of themedicine I was taking would have freed you from me for ever?"
Gaston did not seem at all overwhelmed. Indeed, he was wondering how thematter had reached his father's ears, and how Catenac had discovered therough draft of the agreement.
The contractor had imagined that his son would implore forgiveness; butseeing that he remained obdurate, his violence burst forth again. "Anddo you know what use my son would make of my fortune? He would squanderit on a creature he picked up out of the streets,--a woman he calledMadame de Chantemille,--a fit companion for a noble count!"
The shaft had penetrated the impassability which Gaston had up to thisdisplayed. "You should not insult Zora," said he.
"I shall not," returned his father with a grim laugh, "take the troubleto do that; you are not of age, and I shall clap your friend Madame deChantemille into prison."
"You would not do that!"
"Would I not? You are a minor; but your Zora, whose real name is Rose,is much older; the law is wholly on my side."
"But father--"
"There is no use in crying; my lawyer has the matter in hand, and bynightfall your Zora will be securely caged."
This blow was so cruel and unexpected, that the young man could onlyrepeat,--
"Zora in prison!"
"Yes, in the House of Correction, and from thence to Saint Lazare.Catenac told me the very things to be done."
"Shameful!" exclaimed Gaston, "Zora in prison! Why, I and my friendswill lay siege to the place. I will go to the Court, stand by her side,and depose that this all comes from your devilish malignity. I will saythat I love and esteem her, and that as soon as I am of age I will marryher; the papers will write about us. Go on, go on; I rather like theidea."
However great a man's self-control may be, it has its limits. M. Gandeluhad restrained himself even while he told his son of his villainousconduct; but these revolting threats were more than he could endure,and Andre seeing this, stepped forward, opened the door, and thrust thefoolish youth into the corridor.
"What have you done" cried the contractor; "do you not see that he willgo and warn that vile creature, and that she will escape from justice?"
And as Andre, fearing he knew not what, tried to restrain him, the oldman, exerting all his muscular strength, thrust him on one side withperfect ease, and rushed from the room, calling loudly to his servants.
Andre was horrified at the scene at which, in spite of himself, he hadbeen compelled to assist as a witness. He was not a fool, and had livedtoo much in the world of art not to have witnessed many strange scenesand met with many dissolute characters; but, as a rule, the follies ofthe world had amused rather than disgusted him. But this display of wantof feeling on the part of a son toward a father absolutely chilled hisblood. In a few minutes M. Gandelu appeared with a calmer expressionupon his face.
"I will tell you how matters now stand," said he, in a voice thatquivered in spite of his efforts. "My son is locked up in his room,and a trustworthy servant whom he cannot corrupt has mounted guard overhim."
"Do you not fear, sir, that in his excitement and anger he may----?"
The contractor shrugged his shoulders.
"You do not know him," answered he, "if you imagine that he resemblesme in any way. What do you think that he is doing now? Lying on his bed,face downward, yelling for his Zora. Zora, indeed! As if that was a namefit for a Christian. How is it that these creatures are enabled to drugour boys and lead them anywhere? Had his mother not been a saint onearth, I should scarcely believe that he was my son."
The contractor sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
"You are in pain, sir?" said Andre.
"Yes; my heart is deeply wounded. Up to this time I have only felt as afather; now I feel as a man. To-morrow I send for my family and consultwith them; and I shall advertise that for the future I will not beresponsible for any debts that my son may contract. He shall not have apenny, and will soon learn how society treats a man with empty pockets.As to the girl, she will disappear in double quick time. I havethoroughly weighed the consequences of sending this girl to gaol, andthey are very terrible. My son will do as he has threatened, I am sureof that; and I can picture him tied to that infamous creature for life,looking into her face, and telling her that he adores her, and gloryingin his dishonor, which will be repeated by every Parisian newspaper."
"But is there no other way of proceeding?" asked Andre.
"No, none whatever. If all modern fathers had my courage, we should nothave so many profligate sons. It is impossible that this conferring withthe doctor and the money-lender could have originated in my son's weakbrain. He is a mere child, and some one must have put him up to it."
The poor father was already seeking for some excuse for the son'sconduct.
"I must not dwell on this longer," continued Gandelu, "or I shall get asmad as I was before. I will look at your plans another day. Now, let usget out of the house. Come and look at the new building in the ChampsElysees."
The mansion in question was situated at the corner of the Rue deChantilly, near the Avenue des Champs Elysees, and the frontage of itwas still marked by scaffolding, so that but little of it could beseen. A dozen workmen, engaged by Andre, were lounging about. They hadexpected to see him early, and were surprised at his non-appearance,as he was usually punctuality itself. Andre greeted them in a friendlymanner, but M. Gandelu, though he was always on friendly terms with hisworkmen, passed by them as if he did not even notice their existence. Hewalked through the different rooms and examined them carelessly, withoutseeming to take any interest in them, for his thoughts were with hisson,--his only son.
After a short time he returned to Andre.
"I cannot stay longer," said he; "I am not feeling well; I will be hereto-morrow;" and he went away with his head bent down on his chest.
The w
orkmen noticed his strange and unusual manner.
"He does not look very bright," remarked one to his comrade. "Sincehis illness he has not been the same man. I think he must have had someterrible shock."