XIX.
This inspiration was, moreover, to be the last favor which Providencevouchsafed to Henrietta,--an opportunity which, once allowed to pass,never returns. From that moment she found herself irrevocably insnaredin a net which tightened day by day more around her, and held her ahelpless captive. She had vowed to herself, the unfortunate girl, thatshe would economize her little hoard like the blood in her veins. Buthow could she economize?
She was without every thing. When M. de Brevan had gone to engagethis garret-room, he had thought of nothing; or rather (and such acalculation was quite in keeping with his cold-blooded rascality) he hadtaken his measures so that his victim must soon be in utter destitution.Without any other clothes than those she wore on the night of herflight, she had no linen, no shoes, not a towel even to wipe her hands,unless she borrowed them from her friend down stairs.
Accustomed as she was to all the comforts of boundless wealth, and toall the refinements of cleanliness, these privations became to her agenuine martyrdom. Thus she spent in a variety of small purchases morethan a hundred and fifty francs. The sum was enormous at a time whenshe could already count the days to the hour when she would be withoutbread. In addition to that she had to pay Mrs. Chevassat five francs aday for her board. Five francs were another enormous sum which troubledher grievously; for she would have been quite willing to live onbread and water. But in that direction she thought no economizing waspossible.
One evening she had hinted at the necessity of retrenching, when Mrs.Chevassat had shot at her a venomous glance, which pierced her to thevery marrow of her bones.
"It must be done," she said to herself.
In her mind she felt as if the five francs were a kind of daily ransomwhich she paid the estimable concierge's wife for her good-will. Itis true, that, for such a consideration, the terrible woman was allattention for her "poor little pussy-cat;" for thus she had definitelydubbed Henrietta, becoming daily more familiar, and adding this odiousand irritating presumption to all the other tortures of the poor girl.Many a time poor Henrietta had been made so indignant and furious,that she had been on the point of rebelling; but she had never dared,submitting to this familiarity for the same reason for which shepaid her five francs every day. The old woman, taking her silence forconsent, put no longer any restraint upon herself. She declared shecould not comprehend how her "little pussy-cat," young and pretty as shewas, could consent to live as she did. Was that a life?
Then she always came back to M. Maxime, who continued to call regularlytwice a day, the poor young man!
"And more than that, poor little pussy," she added, "you will see thatone of these days he will summon courage enough to come and offer you anapology."
But Henrietta would not believe that.
"He will never have such consummate impudence," she thought.
He had it, nevertheless. One morning, when she had just finishedrighting up her room, somebody knocked discreetly, at her door. Thinkingthat it was Mrs. Chevassat, who brought her her breakfast, she went tothe door and opened it, without asking who was there. And she startedback with amazement and with terror when she recognized M. de Brevan.
It really looked as if he were making a supreme effort over himself. Hewas deadly pale; his lips trembled; his eyes looked dim and uncertain;and he moved his lips and jaws as if he had gravel in his mouth.
"I have come, madam," he said, "to ask if you have reconsidered."
She made no reply, looking at him with an air of contempt which wouldhave caused a man with some remnant of honor in his heart to flee fromthe spot instantly. But he had, no doubt, armed himself beforehand,against contempt.
"I know," he continued, "that my conduct must appear abominable inyour eyes. I have led you into this snare, and I have meanly betrayed afriend's confidence; but I have an excuse. My passion is stronger thanmy will, than my reason."
"A vile passion for money!"
"You may think so, madam, if you choose. I shall not even attempt toclear myself. That is not what I came for. I came solely for the purposeof enlightening you in regard to your own position, which you do notseem to realize."
If she had followed her own impulses, Henrietta would have driven thewretch away. But she thought she ought to know his intentions and hisplans. She overcame her disgust, therefore, and remained silent.
"In the first place," said M. de Brevan, apparently trying to collecthis thoughts, "bear this in mind, madam. You are ruined in reputation,and ruined through me. All Paris is convinced, by this time, that I haverun away with you; and that I keep you concealed in a charming place,where we enjoy our mutual love; in fact, that you are my mistress."
He seemed to expect an explosion of wrath. By no means! Henriettaremained motionless like a statue.
"What would you have?" he went on in a tone of sarcasm. "My coachman hasbeen talking. Two friends of mine, who reached the palace on foot whenI drove up, saw you jump into my _coupe_; and, as if that had not beenenough, that absurd M. Elgin must needs call me out. We had a duel, andI have wounded him."
The manner in which the young girl shrugged her shoulders showed but tooclearly that she did not believe M. de Brevan. He added,--
"If you doubt it, madam, pray read this, then, at the top of the secondcolumn."
She took the paper which he offered her, and there she read,--
"Yesterday, in the woods near Vincennes, a duel with swords was foughtbetween M. M. de B---- and one of the most distinguished members of ourAmerican colony. After five minutes' close combat, M. E---- was woundedin the arm. It is said that the sudden and very surprising disappearanceof one of the greatest heiresses of the Faubourg Saint Germain was notforeign to this duel. Lucky M. de B---- is reported to know too much ofthe beautiful young lady's present home for the peace of the family.But surely these lines ought to be more than enough on the subject ofan adventure which will ere long, no doubt, end in a happy and brilliantmarriage."
"You see, madam," said M. de Brevan, when he thought Henrietta hadhad time enough to read the article, "you see it is not I who advisemarriage. If you will become my wife, your honor is safe."
"Ah, sir!"
In that simple utterance there was so much contempt, and such profounddisgust, that M. de Brevan seemed to turn, if possible, whiter thanbefore.
"Ah! I see you prefer marrying M. Thomas Elgin," he said.
She only shrugged her shoulders; but he went on,--
"Oh, do not smile! He or I; you have no other alternative. Sooner orlater you will have to choose."
"I shall not choose, sir."
"Oh, just wait till poverty has come! Then you think, perhaps, you willonly need to implore your father to come to your assistance. Do notflatter yourself. Your father has no other will but that of the CountessSarah; and the Countess Sarah will have it so, that you marry SirThorn."
"I shall not appeal to my father, sir."
"Then you probably count upon Daniel's return? Ah, believe me! do notindulge in such dreams. I have told you Daniel loves the Countess Sarah;and, even if he did not love her, you have been too publicly disgracedfor him ever to give you his name. But that is nothing yet. Go to thenavy department, and they will tell you that 'The Conquest' is out on acruise of two years more. At the time when Daniel returns, if he returnsat all (which is very far from being certain), you will long since havebecome Mrs. Elgin or Madame de Brevan, unless"--
Henrietta looked at him so fixedly, that he could not bear the glance;and then she said in a deep voice,--
"Unless I die! did you not mean that? Be it so."
Coldly M. de Brevan bowed, as if he intended to say,--
"Yes, unless you should be dead: that was what I meant."
Then, opening the door, he added,--
"Let me hope, madam, that this is not your last word. I shall, however,have the honor of calling every week to receive your orders."
And, bowing, he left the room.
"What brought him here, the wretch! What does he want of me?"
<
br /> Thus she questioned herself as soon as she was alone, and the door was'shut.' And her anguish increased tenfold; for she did not believe aword of the pretexts which M. de Brevan had assigned for his visit. No,she could not admit that he had come to see if she had reflected, northat he really cherished that abominable hope, that misery, hunger, andfear would drive her into his arms.
"He ought to know me well enough," she thought with a new access ofwrath, "to be sure that I would prefer death a thousand times."
There was no doubt in her mind that this step, which had evidentlybeen extremely painful to himself, had become necessary through someall-powerful consideration. But what could that be? By a great effortof mind Henrietta recalled, one by one, all the phrases used by M.de Brevan, in the hope that some word might give her light; but shediscovered nothing. All he had told her as to the consequences of herflight, she had foreseen before she had resolved to escape. He had toldher nothing new, but his duel with Sir Thorn; and, when she consideredthe matter, she thought that, also, quite natural. For did they not bothcovet with equal eagerness the fortune which she would inherit from hermother as soon as she came of age? The antagonism of their interestsexplained, she thought, their hatred; for she was well convinced thatthey hated each other mortally. The idea that Sir Thorn and M. de Brevanunderstood each other, and pursued a common purpose, never entered hermind; and, if it had suggested itself, she would have rejected it asabsurd.
Must she, then, come to the conclusion that M. de Brevan had really,when he appeared before her, no other aim but to drive her to despair?But why should he do so? what advantage would that be to him? The manwho wants to make a girl his own does not go to work to chill her withterror, and to inspire her with ineffable disgust. Still M. de Brevanhad done this; and therefore he must aim at something different fromthat marriage of which he spoke.
What was that something? Such abominable things are not done for themere pleasure of doing them, especially if that involves some amount ofdanger. Now, it was very clear, that upon Daniel's return, whether hestill loved Henrietta or not, M. de Brevan would have a terrible accountto give to that brave sailor who had trusted him with the care of hisbetrothed. Did M. de Brevan ever think of that return? Oh, yes! he did;and with secret terror. There was proof of that in one of the phrasesthat had escaped him.
After having said, "When Daniel returns," he had added, "if he everreturns, which is by no means sure."
Why this proviso? Had he any reasons to think that Daniel might perishin this dangerous campaign? Now she remembered, yes, she remembereddistinctly, that M. de Brevan had smiled in a very peculiar way when hehad said these words. And, as she recalled this, her heart sank withinher, and she felt as if she were going to faint. Was he not capable ofanything, the wretched man, who had betrayed him so infamously,--capableeven of arming an assassin?
"Oh, I must warn Daniel!" she exclaimed, "I must warn him, and not losea minute."
And, although she had written him a long letter only the day before, shewrote again, begging him to be watchful, to mistrust everybody, becausemost assuredly his life was threatened. And this letter she carriedherself to the post-office, convinced as she was that to confide it toMrs. Chevassat would have been the same as to send it to M. de Brevan.
It was astonishing, however, how the estimable lady seemed to become dayby day more attached to Henrietta, and how expansive and demonstrativeher affections grew. At all hours of the day, and on the most trivialpretexts, she would come up, sit down, and for entire hours entertainher with her intolerable speeches. She did not put any restraint uponherself any longer, but talked "from the bottom of her heart" withher "dear little pussy-cat," as if she had been her own daughter.The strange doctrines at which she had formerly only hinted, she nowproclaimed without reserve, boasting of an open kind of cynicism, whichbetrayed a terrible moral perversity. It looked as if the horribleMegsera had been deputed by Henrietta's enemies for the special purposeof demoralizing and depraving her, if possible, and to drive her intothe brilliant and easy life of sin in which so many unhappy womenperish.
Fortunately, in this case, the messenger was ill-chosen. The eloquenceof Mrs. Chevassat, which very likely would have inflamed the imaginationof some poor but ambitious girl, caused nothing but disgust inHenrietta's heart. She had gotten into the habit of thinking of otherthings while the old woman was holding forth; and her noble soul floatedoff to regions where these vulgarities could reach her no more.
Her life was, nevertheless, a very sad one. She never went out, spendingher days in her chamber, reading, or working at a great embroidery, amasterpiece of patience and taste, which she had undertaken with a fainthope that it might become useful in case of distress. But a new sourceof trouble roused her soon after from this dull monotony. Her moneygrew less and less; and at last the day came when she changed the lastgold-piece of her nine hundred francs. It became urgent to resort oncemore to the pawnbroker; for these were the first days of April, and thehoneyed words of Mrs. Chevassat had given her to understand that she hadbetter get ready to pay on the 8th her rent, which amounted to a hundredfrancs.
She intrusted therefore to the concierge the remaining ring to bepawned. Calculating from the sum she had received for the first ring,she hoped to obtain for this one, at the very least, five or six hundredfrancs.
The concierge brought her one hundred and ninety francs.
At first, she was convinced the man had robbed her; and she gave himto understand that she thought so. But he showed her the receipt in aperfect rage.
"Look there," he said, "and remember to whom you are talking!"
On the receipt she read in fact these words: "Advanced, two hundredfrancs." Convinced of the injustice of her accusations, Henrietta had tomake her apologies, and hardly succeeded by means of a ten-franc-piecein soothing the man's wounded feelings.
Alas! the poor girl did not know that one is always at liberty to pledgean article only for a given sum, a part of its real value; and she wastoo inexperienced in such matters to notice the reference to that modeof pawning on her receipt. However, it was one of those mishaps for poorHenrietta which cannot be mended, and from which we never recover. Shelost two months' existence, the very time, perhaps, that was needed tillDaniel's return. Still the day when the rent was due came, and she paidher hundred francs. The second day after that, she was once more withoutmoney, and, according to Mrs. Chevassat's elegant expression, forcedto "live on her poor possessions." But the pawnbroker had too cruellydisappointed her calculations: she would not resort to him again, andrisk a second disappointment.
This time she thought she would, instead of pawning, sell, her gold-dressing-case; and she requested the obliging lady below to procure hera purchaser. At first Mrs. Chevassat raised a host of objections.
"To sell such a pretty toy!" she said, "it's murder! Just think, you'llnever see it again. If, on the other hand, you carry it to 'Uncle' youcan take it out again as soon as you have a little money."
But she lost her pains, she saw and at last consented to bring up a kindof dealer in toilet-articles, an excellent honest man, she declared, inwhom one could put the most absolute confidence. And he really showedhimself worthy of her warm recommendation; for he offered instantly fivehundred francs for the dressing-case, which was not worth much morethan three times as much. Nor was this his last bid. After an hour'sirritating discussions, after having ten times pretended to leave theroom, he drew with many sighs his _portemonnaie_ from its secret home,and counted upon the table the seven hundred francs in gold upon whichHenrietta had stoutly insisted.
That was enough to pay Mrs. Chevassat for four months' board.
"But no," said the poor young girl to herself, "that would bepusillanimous in the highest degree."
And that very evening she summoned all her courage, and told theformidable woman in a firm tone of voice, that henceforth she would onlytake one meal, dinner. She had chosen this half-way measure in ordernot to avoid a scene, for that she knew she could not hope
for, but aregular falling-out.
Contrary to all expectations, the concierge's wife appeared neithersurprised nor angry. She only shrugged her shoulders as she said,--
"As you like, my 'little pussy-cat.' Only believe me, it is no useeconomizing in one's eating."
From the day of this _coup d'etat_, Henrietta went down every morningherself to buy her penny-roll and the little supply of milk whichconstituted her breakfast. For the rest of the day she did not leave herroom, busying herself with her great work; and nothing broke in upon thedistressing monotony of her life but the weekly visits of M. de Brevan.
For he did not forget his threat; and every week Henrietta was sure tosee him come. He came in with a solemn air, and coldly asked if she hadreflected since he had had the honor of presenting his respects to her.She did not answer him ordinarily, except by a look of contempt; buthe did not seem in the least disconcerted. He bowed respectfully, andinvariably said, before leaving the room,--
"Next time, then; I can wait. Oh! I have time; I can wait."
If he hoped thus to conquer Henrietta more promptly, he was entirelymistaken. This periodical insult acted only as an inducement to keep upher wrath and to increase her energy. Her pride rose at the thought ofthis unceasing struggle; and she swore that she would be victorious.It was this sentiment which inspired her with a thought, which, in itsresults, was destined to have a decisive influence on her future.
It was now the end of June, and she saw with trembling her littletreasure grow smaller and smaller; when one day she asked Mrs.Chevassat, who seemed to be of unusually good-humor, if she couldnot procure her some work. She told her that she was considered quiteskilful in all kinds of needlework.
But the woman laughed at the first words, and said,--
"Leave me alone! Are hands like yours made to work?"
And when Henrietta insisted, and showed her, as a proof of what shecould do, the embroidery which she had commenced, she replied,--
"That is very pretty; but embroidering from morning till night would notenable a fairy to keep a canary-bird."
There was probably some truth in what she said, exaggerated as itsounded; and the poor girl hastened to add that she understood otherkinds of work also. She was a first-class musician, for instance, andfully able to give music-lessons, or teach singing, if she could onlyget pupils. At these words a ray of diabolic satisfaction lighted up theold woman's eyes; and she cried out,--
"What, my 'pussy-cat,' could you play dancing-music, like those artistswho go to the large parties of fashionable people?"
"Certainly!"
"Well, that is a talent worth something! Why did you not tell me before?I will think of it, and you shall see."
On the next Saturday, early in the morning, she appeared in Henrietta'sroom with the bright face of a bearer of good news.
"I have thought of you," she said as soon as she entered.
"Ah!"
"We have a tenant in the house who is going to give a large partyto-night. I have mentioned you to her; and she says she will give youthirty francs if you will make her guests jump. Thirty francs! That's abig sum; and besides, if they are pleased, you will get more customers."
"In what part of the house does she live?"
"In the second story of the back building, looking upon the yard. Mrs.Hilaire, a very nice person, and so good! there is no one like her. Youwould have to be there at nine o'clock precisely."
"I'll come."
Quite happy, and full of hope, Henrietta spent a part of the afternoonin mending her only dress, a black silk dress, much worn unfortunately,and already often repaired. Still, by much skill and patience, shehad managed to look quite respectable when she rang the bell at Mrs.Hilaire's door. She was shown into a room furnished with odd furniture,but brilliantly lighted, in which seven or eight ladies in flamingcostumes, and as many fashionable gentlemen, were smoking and takingcoffee. Both ladies and gentlemen had just risen from table; there wasno mistaking it from their eyes and the sound of their voices.
"Look! there is the musician from the garret!" exclaimed a large,dark-skinned woman, pretty, but very vulgar, who seemed to be Mrs.Hilaire.
And, turning to Henrietta, she asked,--
"Will you take a little glass of something, my darling?"
The poor girl blushed crimson, and, painfully embarrassed, declined, andasked pardon for declining; when the lady broke in rather rudely, andsaid,--
"You are not thirsty? Very well. You'll drink after some time. In themeantime will you play us a quadrille? and mark the time, please."
Then imitating with distressing accuracy the barking voice of masters ofceremonies at public balls, she called out,--
"Take your positions, take your positions: a quadrille!"
Henrietta had taken her seat at the piano. She turned her back to thedancers; but she had before her a mirror, in which she saw every gestureof Mrs. Hilaire and her guests. And then she became quite sure of whatshe had suspected from the beginning. She understood into what companyshe had been inveigled by the concierge's wife. She had, however,sufficient self-control to finish the quadrille. But, when the lastfigure had been danced, she rose; and, walking up to the mistress of thehouse, said, stammering painfully, and in extreme embarrassment,--
"Please excuse me, madam, I have to leave. I feel very unwell. I couldnot play any more."
"How funny!" cried one of the gentlemen. "Here is our ball at an end!"
But the young woman said,--
"Hush, Julius! Don't you see how pale she is,--pale like death, the poorchild! What is the matter with you, darling? Is it the heat that makesyou feel badly? It is stifling hot here."
And, when Henrietta was at the door, she said,--
"Oh, wait! I do not trouble people for nothing. Come, Julius, turn yourpockets inside out, and give the little one a twenty-franc-piece."
The poor girl was almost outside, when she turned, and said,--
"Thank you, madam; but you owe me nothing."
It was high time for Henrietta to leave. Her first surprise had beenfollowed by mad anger, which drove the blood to her head, and made herweep bitter tears. She knew now that Mrs. Chevassat had caught her inthis trap. What could the wretched woman have meant?
Carried away by an irresistible impulse, and no longer mistress ofherself, Henrietta rushed down stairs, and broke like a whirlwind intothe little box of the concierge, crying out,--
"How could you dare to send me to such people? You knew all about it.You are a wretch!"
Master Chevassat was the first to rise, and said,--
"What is the matter? Do you know to whom you are talking?"
But his wife interrupted him with a gesture, and, turning to Henrietta,said with cynic laughter,--
"Well, what next? Are these people not good enough for you; eh? In thefirst place, I am tired of your ways, my 'pussy-cat.' When one is abeggar, as you are, one stays at home like a good girl; and one does notrun away with a young man, and gad about the world with lovers."
Thereupon she took advantage of the fact that Henrietta had pausedupon the threshold, to push her brutally out of the room at the risk ofthrowing her down, and fiercely banged the door. An hour afterwards thepoor girl vehemently reproached herself for her passion.
"Alas!" she said to herself, weeping, "the weak, the unhappy, haveno right to complain. Who knows what this wicked woman will now do toavenge herself?"
She found it out the second day afterwards.
Coming down a little before seven o'clock, in order to buy her roll andher milk for breakfast, she met at the entrance-door Mrs. Hilaire, faceto face. At the sight of the poor girl, that irascible woman turned asred as a poppy, and, rushing up to her, seized her by the arm, and shookit furiously, crying out at the same time with the full force of herlungs,--
"Ah, it is you, miserable beggar, who go and tell stories on me! Oh,what wickedness! A beggar whom I had sent for to allow her to earnthirty francs! And I must needs think she is sick, and pity he
r, and askJulius to give her a twenty-franc-piece."
Henrietta felt that she ought not to blame this woman, who, after all,had shown her nothing but kindness. But she was thoroughly frightened,and tried to get away. The woman, however, held her fast, and criedstill louder, till several tenants came to the open windows.
"They'll make you pay for that, my darling," she yelled, amid fouloaths, which her wrath carried along with it, as a torrent floats downstones and debris. "They'll make you pay for it! You'll have to clearout of here, I tell you!"
And the threat was not an idle one. That very afternoon the samelamentable scene was repeated; and so it went on every morning and everyday. Mrs. Hilaire had friends in the house, who took up the quarrel, andfell upon Henrietta whenever she appeared. They lay in wait for her byturns; and she no sooner ventured upon the staircase than the shoutsbegan; so that the unfortunate girl no longer dared leave the house.Early in the morning, as soon as the door was opened, she ran out to buyher daily provisions; then, running up swiftly, she barricaded herselfin her chamber, and never stirred out again.
Surely, there was no lack of desire on her part to leave the house. Butwhere should she go? Besides, the unknown frightened her; might it nothave still greater terrors in reserve for her?
At last she was entirely without money.
In July her rent had cost her a hundred francs, and she had beencompelled to buy a dress in place of her merino dress, which wasfalling to pieces. In the first days of August she was at the end of herresources. Nor would she have been able to make them last so long, evenif she had not, ever since that evening at Mrs. Hilaire's, done entirelywithout the expensive board of Mrs. Chevassat. Even this rupture, atwhich Henrietta had at first rejoiced, became now to her a source ofoverwhelming trouble. She had still a few things that she might sell,--abrooch, her cashmere, her watch, and her ear-rings; but she did not knowhow and to whom she could sell them.
All the stories by which the wicked woman down stairs had tried tofrighten her from going herself to the pawnbroker came back to hermind; and she saw herself, at the first attempt, arrested by the police,examined, and carried back to her father, handed over to Sarah and SirThorn, and--
Still want pressed her hard; and at last, after long hesitation, oneevening, at dark, she slipped out to find a purchaser. What she waslooking for was one of those dark little shops in which men lie in waitfor their prey, whom the police always suspects, and carefully watches.She found one such as she desired. An old woman with spectacles on hernose, without even asking her name, and evidently taking her to be athief, gave her, for her brooch and her ear-rings, a hundred and fortyfrancs.
What was this sum of money? A nothing; Henrietta understood thatperfectly. And hence, overcoming all her reserve and her reluctance, shevowed she would try every thing in her power to obtain work.
She kept her word, sustained by a secret hope of triumphing, by dint ofenergy and perseverance, over fate itself. She went from store to store,from door to door, so to say, soliciting employment, as she would haveasked for alms, promising to do any thing that might be wanted, inreturn merely for her board and lodging. But it was written that everything should turn against her. Her beauty, her charms, her distinguishedappearance, her very manner of speaking, were so many obstacles in herway. Who could think of engaging a girl as a servant, who looked like aduchess? So that all her prayers only met with cold faces, shrugging ofshoulders, and ironical smiles. She was refused everywhere. It is truethat now and then some gallant clerk replied to her application by adeclaration of love.
Chance had thrown into her hands one of those small handbills whichbill-stickers paste upon the gutters, and in which workwomen are"wanted." Henceforth she spent her days in looking up these handbills,and in going to places from which they were issued. But here she metwith the same difficulties. There was no end of questions.
"Who are you? Where have you been? By whom have you been employed?" andfinally, always the same distressing answer,--
"We cannot employ persons like you."
Then she went to an employment agency. She had noticed one whichdisplayed at the door a huge placard, on which places were offered fromthirty-five up to a thousand francs a month. She went up stairs. A veryloquacious gentleman made her first deposit a considerable sum, and thentold her he had exactly what she wanted. She went ten times back to theoffice, and always in vain. After an eleventh appointment, he gave herthe address of two houses, in one of which he assured her she wouldcertainly be employed. These two houses turned out to be two smallshops, where pretty young ladies were wanted to pour out absinthe, andto wait upon the customers.
This was Henrietta's last effort. For ten months she had now beenstruggling with a kind of helpless fury against inconquerabledifficulties, and at last the springs of her energy had lost theirelasticity. Now, crushed in body and mind, overwhelmed and conquered,she gave up.
It lacked still eighteen months before she would become of age. Sinceshe had escaped from her father's house, she had not received a linefrom Daniel, although she had constantly written to him, and she had, ofcourse, no means of ascertaining the date of his return. She had once,following M. de Brevan's advice, summoned courage enough to go to thenavy department, and there to inquire if they had any news about "TheConquest." A clerk had replied to her, with a joke, that "The Conquest"might be afloat yet "a year or two." How could the poor girl wait tillthen? Why should she any longer maintain the useless struggle? She feltacute pains in her chest; she coughed; and, after walking a few yards,her legs gave way under her, and she broke out in cold perspiration.She now spent her days almost always in bed, shivering with chills,or plunged in a kind of stupor, during which her mind was filled withdismal visions. She felt as if the very sources of life were drying upwithin her, and as if all her blood was, drop by drop, oozing out of herthrough an open wound.
"If I could die thus!" she thought.
This was the last favor she asked of God. Henceforth, a miraclealone could save her; and she hardly wished to be saved. A perfectindifference and intense distaste of every thing filled her soul. Shethought she had exhausted all that man can suffer; and there was nothingleft for her to fear.
A last misfortune which now befell her did not elicit even a sigh fromher. One afternoon, while she had been down stairs, she had left thewindow open. The wind had suddenly sprung up, slammed the blinds, andthus upset a chair. On this chair hung her cashmere; it fell into thefireplace, in which a little fire was still burning; and when she cameback she found the shawl half-burnt to ashes. It was the only article ofvalue which she still possessed; and she might at any time have procuredseveral hundred francs for it.
"Well," she said, "what does it matter? It means three months taken frommy life; that is all."
And she did not think of it any more; she did not even trouble herselfabout the rent, which became due in October.
"I shall not be able to pay it," she said to herself. "Mrs. Chevassatwill give me notice, and then the hour will have come."
Still, to her great surprise, the worthy woman from below did not scoldher for not having the money ready, and even promised she would makethe owner of the house give her time. This inexplicable forbearancegave Henrietta a week's respite. But at last, one morning, she woke up,having not a cent left, having nothing even, she thought, that she couldget money for, and being very hungry.
"Well," she thought, as if announcing to her own soul that thecatastrophe had at last come, "all I need now is a few minutes'courage."
She said so in her mind; but in reality she was chilled to the heart bythe fearful certainty that the crisis had really come: she felt as ifthe executioner were at the door of the room, ready to announce hersentence of death. And yet, for a month now, she had thought of suicideonly; and the evening before she had thought it over with a kind ofdelight.
"I am surely not such a coward?" she said to herself in a fit of rage.
Yes, she was afraid. Yes, she told herself in vain that there was noothe
r choice left to her but that between death and Sir Thorn, or M. deBrevan. She was terrified.
Alas! she was only twenty years old; she had never felt such exuberanceof life within her; she wanted to live,--to live a month more, a week, aday!
If only her shawl had not been burnt! Then, examining with haggard eyesher chamber, she saw that exquisite piece of embroidery which she hadundertaken. It was a dress, covered _all_ over with work of marvellousdelicacy and exquisite outlines. Unfortunately, it was far from beingfinished.
"Never mind!" she said to herself; "perhaps they will give me somethingfor it."
And, wrapping the dress up hastily, she hurried to offer it for sale tothe old woman who had already bought her ear-rings, and then her watch.The fearful old hag seemed to be overcome with surprise when she sawthis marvel of skill.
"That's very fine," she said; "why, it is magnificent! and, if it werefinished, it would be worth a mint of money; but as it is no one wouldwant it."
She consented, however, to give twenty francs for it, solely from loveof art, she said; for it was money thrown away. These twenty francswere, for Henrietta, an unexpected release.
"It will last me a month," she thought, determined to live on dry breadonly; "and who can tell what a month may bring forth?"
And this unfortunate girl had an inheritance from her mother of morethan a million! If she had but known it, if she had but had a singlefriend to advise her in her inexperience! But she had been faithful toher vow never to let her secret be known to a living soul; and the mostterrible anguish had never torn from her a single complaint.
M. de Brevan knew this full well; for he had continued his weekly visitswith implacable regularity. This perseverance, which had at first servedto maintain Henrietta's courage, had now become a source of unspeakabletorture.
"Ah, I shall be avenged!" she said to him one day. "Daniel will comeback."
But he, shrugging his shoulders, had answered,--
"If you count upon that alone, you may as well surrender, and become mywife at once."
She turned her head from him with an expression of ineffable disgust.Rather the icy arms of Death! And still the pulsations of her heart wereapparently counted. Since the end of November her twenty francs had beenexhausted; and to prolong her existence she had had to resort to thelast desperate expedients of extreme poverty. All that she possessed,all that she could carry from her chamber without being stopped by theconcierge, she had sold, piece by piece, bit after bit, for ten cents,for five cents, for a roll. Her linen had been sacrificed first; thenthe covering of her bed, her curtains, her sheets. The mattress had gonethe way of the rest,--the wool from the inside first, carried off byhandfuls; then the ticking.
Thus, on the 25th of December, she found herself in a chamber as utterlydenuded as if a fire had raged there; while she herself had on her bodybut a single petticoat under her thin alpaca dress, without a rag tocover herself in these wintry nights. Two evenings before, when terrortriumphed over her resolution for a time, she had written her father along letter. He had made no reply. Last night she had again written inthese words:--
"I am hungry, and I have no bread. If by tomorrow at noon you have notcome to my assistance, at one o'clock you will have ceased to have adaughter."
Tortured by cold and hunger, emaciated, and almost dying, she had waitedfor an answer. At noon nothing had come. She gave herself time till fouro'clock. Four o'clock, and no answer.
"I must make an end of it," she said to herself.
Her preparations had been made. She had told the Cerberus below that shewould be out all the evening; and she had procured a considerable stockof charcoal. She wrote two letters,--one to her father, the other to M.de Brevan.
After that she closed hermetically all the openings in her room, kindledtwo small fires, and, having commended her soul to God, stretchedherself out on her bed. It was five o'clock.
A dense, bitter vapor spread slowly through the room; and the candleceased to give a visible light. Then she felt as if an iron screw weretightening on her temples. She was suffocating, and felt a desire tosleep; but in her stomach she suffered intense pains.
Then strange and incoherent thoughts arose deliriously in her head; herears were filled with confused noises; her pulse beat with extraordinaryvehemence; nausea nearly convulsed her; and from time to time shefancied terrific explosions were breaking her skull to pieces.
The candle went out. Maddened by a sensation of dying, she tried torise; but she could not. She wanted to cry; but her voice ended in arattle in her throat.
Then her ideas became utterly confused. Respiration ceased. It was allover. She was suffering no longer.