Produced by John Hamm
THE COUNT'S MILLIONS
By Emile Gaboriau
Translated from the French
A novel in two parts. Part Two of this novel is found in the volume:Baron Trigault's Vengeance
PASCAL AND MARGUERITE.
I.
It was a Thursday evening, the fifteenth of October; and although onlyhalf-past six o'clock, it had been dark for some time already. Theweather was cold, and the sky was as black as ink, while the wind blewtempestuously, and the rain fell in torrents.
The servants at the Hotel de Chalusse, one of the most magnificentmansions in the Rue de Courcelles in Paris, were assembled in theporter's lodge, a little building comprising a couple of rooms standingon the right hand side of the great gateway. Here, as in all largemansions, the "concierge" or porter, M. Bourigeau, was a person ofimmense importance, always able and disposed to make any one who wasinclined to doubt his authority, feel it in cruel fashion. As could beeasily seen, he held all the other servants in his power. He couldlet them absent themselves without leave, if he chose, and conceal allreturns late at night after the closing of public balls and wine-shops.Thus, it is needless to say that M. Bourigeau and his wife were treatedby their fellow-servants with the most servile adulation.
The owner of the house was not at home that evening, so that M. Casimir,the count's head valet, was serving coffee for the benefit of all theretainers. And while the company sipped the fragrant beverage which hadbeen generously tinctured with cognac, provided by the butler, they allunited in abusing their common enemy, the master of the house. For thetime being, a pert little waiting-maid, with an odious turn-up nose, hadthe floor. She was addressing her remarks to a big, burly, and ratherinsolent-looking fellow, who had been added only the evening before tothe corps of footmen. "The place is really intolerable," she was saying."The wages are high, the food of the very best, the livery just suchas would show off a good-looking man to the best advantage, and MadameLeon, the housekeeper, who has entire charge of everything, is not toolynx-eyed."
"And the work?"
"A mere nothing. Think, there are eighteen of us to serve only twopersons, the count and Mademoiselle Marguerite. But then there is neverany pleasure, never any amusement here."
"What! is one bored then?"
"Bored to death. This grand house is worse than a tomb. No receptions,no dinners--nothing. Would you believe it, I have never seen thereception-rooms! They are always closed; and the furniture is droppingto pieces under its coverings. There are not three visitors in thecourse of a month."
She was evidently incensed, and the new footman seemed to share herindignation. "Why, how is it?" he exclaimed. "Is the count an owl? Aman who's not yet fifty years old, and who's said to be worth severalmillions."
"Yes, millions; you may safely say it--and perhaps ten, perhaps twentymillions too."
"Then all the more reason why there should be something going on here.What does he do with himself alone, all the blessed day?"
"Nothing. He reads in the library, or wanders about the garden.Sometimes, in the evening, he drives with Mademoiselle Marguerite to theBois de Boulogne in a closed carriage; but that seldom happens. Besides,there is no such thing as teasing the poor man. I've been in the housefor six months, and I've never heard him say anything but: 'yes'; 'no';'do this'; 'very well'; 'retire.' You would think these are the onlywords he knows. Ask M. Casimir if I'm not right."
"Our guv'nor isn't very gay, that's a fact," responded the valet.
The footman was listening with a serious air, as if greatly interestedin the character of the people whom he was to serve. "And mademoiselle,"he asked, "what does she say to such an existence?"
"Bless me! during the six months she has been here, she has never oncecomplained."
"If she is bored," added M. Casimir, "she conceals it bravely."
"Naturally enough," sneered the waiting-maid, with an ironical gesture;"each month that mademoiselle remains here, brings her too much moneyfor her to complain."
By the laugh that greeted this reply, and by the looks the olderservants exchanged, the new-comer must have realized that he haddiscovered the secret skeleton hidden in every house. "What! what!" heexclaimed, on fire with curiosity; "is there really anything in that? Totell the truth, I was inclined to doubt it."
His companions were evidently about to tell him all they knew, or ratherall they thought they knew, when the front-door bell rang vigorously.
"There he comes!" exclaimed the concierge; "but he's in too much of ahurry; hell have to wait awhile."
He sullenly pulled the cord, however; the heavy door swayed on itshinges, and a cab-driver, breathless and hatless, burst into the room,crying, "Help! help!"
The servants sprang to their feet.
"Make haste!" continued the driver. "I was bringing a gentlemanhere--you must know him. He's outside, in my vehicle----"
Without pausing to listen any longer, the servants rushed out, and thedriver's incoherent explanation at once became intelligible. At thebottom of the cab, a roomy four-wheeler, a man was lying all of a heap,speechless and motionless. He must have fallen forward, face downward,and owing to the jolting of the vehicle his head had slipped under thefront seat.
"Poor devil!" muttered M. Casimir, "he must have had a stroke ofapoplexy." The valet was peering into the vehicle as he spoke, and hiscomrades were approaching, when suddenly he drew back, uttering a cry ofhorror. "Ah, my God! it is the count!"
Whenever there is an accident in Paris, a throng of inquisitivespectators seems to spring up from the very pavement, and indeed morethan fifty persons had already congregated round about the vehicle. Thiscircumstance restored M. Casimir's composure; or, at least, some portionof it. "You must drive into the courtyard," he said, addressing thecabman. "M. Bourigeau, open the gate, if you please." And then, turningto another servant, he added:
"And you must make haste and fetch a physician--no matter who. Run tothe nearest doctor, and don't return until you bring one with you."
The concierge had opened the gate, but the driver had disappeared; theycalled him, and on receiving no reply the valet seized the reins andskilfully guided the cab through the gateway.
Having escaped the scrutiny of the crowd, it now remained to remove thecount from the vehicle, and this was a difficult task, on account of thesingular position of his body; still, they succeeded at last, by openingboth doors of the cab, the three strongest men uniting in their efforts.Then they placed him in a large arm-chair, carried him to his own room,and speedily had him undressed and in bed.
He had so far given no sign of life; and as he lay there with his headweighing heavily on the pillow, you might have thought that all wasover. His most intimate friend would scarcely have recognized him. Hisfeatures were swollen and discolored; his eyes were closed, and a darkpurple circle, looking almost like a terrible bruise, extended roundthem. A spasm had twisted his lips, and his distorted mouth, which wasdrawn on one side and hung half open imparted a most sinister expressionto his face. In spite of every precaution, he had been wounded as he wasremoved from the cab. His forehead had been grazed by a piece of iron,and a tiny stream of blood was trickling down upon his face. However,he still breathed; and by listening attentively, one could distinguish afaint rattling in his throat.
The servants, who had been so garrulous a few moments before, weresilent now. They lingered in the room, exchanging glances of muteconsternation. Their faces were pale and sad, and there were tears inthe eyes of some of them. What was passing in their minds? Perhaps theywere overcome by that unconquerable fear which sudden and unexpecteddeath always provokes. Perhaps they unconsciously loved this master,whose bread they ate. Perhaps their grief was only selfishness, and th
eywere merely wondering what would become of them, where they should findanother situation, and if it would prove a good one. Not knowing what todo, they talked together in subdued voices, each suggesting some remedyhe had heard spoken of for such cases. The more sensible among them wereproposing to go and inform mademoiselle or Madame Leon, whose roomswere on the floor above, when the rustling of a skirt against the doorsuddenly made them turn. The person whom they called "mademoiselle" wasstanding on the threshold.
Mademoiselle Marguerite was a beautiful young girl, about twenty yearsof age. She was a brunette of medium height, with big gloomy eyes shadedby thick eyebrows. Heavy masses of jet-black hair wreathed her lofty butrather sad and thoughtful forehead. There was something peculiar inher face--an expression of concentrated suffering, and a sort of proudresignation, mingled with timidity.
"What has happened?" she asked, gently. "What is the cause of allthe noise I have heard? I have rung three times and the bell was notanswered."
No one ventured to reply, and in her surprise she cast a hasty glancearound. From where she stood, she could not see the bed stationed in analcove; but she instantly noted the dejected attitude of the servants,the clothing scattered about the floor, and the disorder that pervadedthis magnificent but severely furnished chamber, which was only lightedby the lamp which M. Bourigeau, the concierge, carried. A sudden dreadseized her; she shuddered, and in a faltering voice she added: "Why areyou all here? Speak, tell me what has happened."
M. Casimir stepped forward. "A great misfortune, mademoiselle, aterrible misfortune. The count----"
And he paused, frightened by what he was about to say.
But Mademoiselle Marguerite had understood him. She clasped both handsto her heart, as if she had received a fatal wound, and uttered thesingle word: "Lost!"
The next moment she turned as pale as death, her head drooped, her eyesclosed, and she staggered as if about to fall. Two maids sprang forwardto support her, but she gently repulsed them, murmuring, "Thanks!thanks! I am strong now."
She was, in fact, sufficiently strong to conquer her weakness. Shesummoned all her resolution, and, paler than a statue, with set teethand dry, glittering eyes, she approached the alcove. She stood there fora moment perfectly motionless, murmuring a few unintelligible words; butat last, crushed by her sorrow, she sank upon her knees beside the bed,buried her face in the counterpane and wept.
Deeply moved by the sight of this despair, the servants held theirbreath, wondering how it would all end. It ended suddenly. The girlsprang from her knees, as if a gleam of hope had darted through herheart. "A physician!" she said, eagerly.
"I have sent for one, mademoiselle," replied M. Casimir. And hearinga voice and a sound of footsteps on the staircase, he added: "Andfortunately, here he comes."
The doctor entered. He was a young man, although his head was almostquite bald. He was short, very thin, clean-shaven, and clad in blackfrom head to foot. Without a word, without a bow, he walked straight tothe bedside, lifted the unconscious man's eyelids, felt his pulse, anduncovered his chest, applying his ear to it. "This is a serious case,"he said at the close of his examination.
Mademoiselle Marguerite, who had followed his movements with the mostpoignant anxiety, could not repress a sob. "But all hope is not lost,is it, monsieur?" she asked in a beseeching voice, with hands claspedin passionate entreaty. "You will save him, will you not--you will savehim?"
"One may always hope for the best."
This was the doctor's only answer. He had drawn his case of instrumentsfrom his pocket, and was testing the points of his lancets on the tipof his finger. When he had found one to his liking: "I must ask you,mademoiselle," said he, "to order these women to retire, and to retireyourself. The men will remain to assist me, if I require help."
She obeyed submissively, but instead of returning to her own room,she remained in the hall, seating herself upon the lower step of thestaircase near the door, counting the seconds, and drawing a thousandconjectures from the slightest sound.
Meanwhile, inside the room, the physician was proceeding slowly, notfrom temperament however, but from principle. Dr. Jodon--for such washis name--was an ambitious man who played a part. Educated by a "princeof science," more celebrated for the money he gained than for the cureshe effected, he copied his master's method, his gestures, and even theinflections of his voice. By casting in people's eyes the same powder ashis teacher had employed, he hoped to obtain the same results: a largepractice and an immense fortune. In his secret heart he was by no meansdisconcerted by his patient's condition; on the contrary, he did notconsider the count's state nearly as precarious as it really was.
But bleeding and cupping alike failed to bring the sick man toconsciousness. He remained speechless and motionless; the only resultobtained, was that his breathing became a trifle easier. Finding hisendeavors fruitless, the doctor at last declared that all immediateremedies were exhausted, that "the women" might be allowed to return,and that nothing now remained but to wait for the effect of the remedieshe was about to prescribe, and which they must procure from the nearestchemist.
Any other man would have been touched by the agony of entreaty containedin the glance that Mademoiselle Marguerite cast upon the physician asshe returned into the room; but it did not affect him in the least. Hecalmly said, "I cannot give my decision as yet."
"My God!" murmured the unhappy girl; "oh, my God, have mercy upon me!"
But the doctor, copying his model, had stationed himself near thefireplace, with his elbow leaning on the mantel-shelf, in a graceful,though rather pompous attitude. "Now," he said, addressing his remarksto M. Casimir, "I desire to make a few inquiries. Is this the first timethe Count de Chalusse has had such an attack?"
"Yes, sir--at least since I have been in attendance upon him."
"Very good. That is a chance in our favor. Tell me--have you ever heardhim complain of vertigo, or of a buzzing in his ears?"
"Never."
Mademoiselle Marguerite seemed inclined to volunteer some remark, butthe doctor imposed silence upon her by a gesture, and continued hisexamination. "Is the count a great eater?" he inquired. "Does he drinkheavily?"
"The count is moderation itself, monsieur, and he always takes a greatdeal of water with his wine."
The doctor listened with an air of intent thoughtfulness, his headslightly inclined forward, his brow contracted, and his under lip puffedout, while from time to time he stroked his beardless chin. He wascopying his master. "The devil!" he said, sotto voce. "There mustbe some cause for such an attack, however. Nothing in the count'sconstitution predisposes him to such an accident----" Then, suddenlyturning toward Mademoiselle Marguerite: "Do you know, mademoiselle,whether the count has experienced any very violent emotion during thepast few days?"
"Something occurred this very morning, which seemed to annoy him verymuch."
"Ah! now we have it," said the doctor, with the air of an oracle. "Whydid you not tell me all this at first? It will be necessary for you togive me the particulars, mademoiselle."
The young girl hesitated. The servants were dazed by the doctor'smanner; but Mademoiselle Marguerite was far from sharing their aweand admiration. She would have given anything to have had the regularphysician of the household there instead of him! As for this coarseexamination in the presence of all these servants, and by the bedside ofa man who, in spite of his apparent unconsciousness, was, perhaps, ableto hear and to comprehend, she looked upon it as a breach of delicacy,even of propriety.
"It is of the most urgent importance that I should be fully informed ofthese particulars," repeated the physician peremptorily.
After such an assertion, further hesitation was out of the question.Mademoiselle Marguerite seemed to collect her thoughts, and then shesadly said: "Just as we sat down to breakfast this morning, a letterwas handed to the count. No sooner had his eyes fallen upon it, than heturned as white as his napkin. He rose from his seat and began to walkhastily up and down the dining-room, uttering ex
clamations of anger andsorrow. I spoke to him, but he did not seem to hear me. However, after afew moments, he resumed his seat at the table, and began to eat----"
"As usual?"
"He ate more than usual, monsieur. Only I must tell you that it seemedto me he was scarcely conscious of what he was doing. Four or five timeshe left the table, and then came back again. At last, after quite astruggle, he seemed to come to some decision. He tore the letter topieces, and threw the pieces out of the window that opens upon thegarden."
Mademoiselle Marguerite expressed herself with the utmost simplicity,and there was certainly nothing particularly extraordinary in her story.Still, those around her listened with breathless curiosity, as thoughthey were expecting some startling revelation, so much does thehuman mind abhor that which is natural and incline to that which ismysterious.
Without seeming to notice the effect she had produced, and addressingherself to the physician alone, the girl continued: "After the letterwas destroyed, M. de Chalusse seemed himself again. Coffee was served,and he afterward lighted a cigar as usual. However, he soon let it goout. I dared not disturb him by any remarks; but suddenly he said to me:'It's strange, but I feel very uncomfortable.' A moment passed, withouteither of us speaking, and then he added: 'I am certainly not well.Will you do me the favor to go to my room for me? Here is the key of myescritoire; open it, and on the upper shelf you will find a small bottlewhich please bring to me.' I noticed with some surprise that M. deChalusse, who usually speaks very distinctly, stammered and hesitatedconsiderably in making this request, but, unfortunately, I did not thinkmuch about it at the time. I did as he requested, and he poured eightor ten drops of the contents of the vial into a glass of water, andswallowed it."
So intense was Dr. Jodon's interest that he became himself again. Heforgot to attitudinize. "And after that?" he asked, eagerly.
"After that, M. de Chalusse seemed to feel much better, and retired tohis study as usual. I fancied that any annoyance the letter had causedhim was forgotten; but I was wrong, for in the afternoon he sent amessage, through Madame Leon, requesting me to join him in the garden.I hastened there, very much surprised, for the weather was extremelydisagreeable. 'Dear Marguerite,' he said, on seeing me, 'help me to findthe fragments of that letter which I flung from the window this morning.I would give half my fortune for an address which it must certainly havecontained, but which I quite overlooked in my anger.' I helped him ashe asked. He might have reasonably hoped to succeed, for it was rainingwhen the scraps of paper were thrown out, and instead of flying throughthe air, they fell directly on to the ground. We succeeded in findinga large number of the scraps, but what M. de Chalusse so particularlywanted was not to be read on any one of them. Several times he spoke ofhis regret, and cursed his precipitation."
M. Bourigeau, the concierge, and M. Casimir exchanged a significantsmile. They had seen the count searching for the remnants of thisletter, and had thought him little better than an idiot. But noweverything was explained.
"I was much grieved at the count's disappointment," continuedMademoiselle Marguerite, "but suddenly he exclaimed, joyfully: 'Thataddress--why, such a person will give it to me--what a fool I am!'"
The physician evinced such absorbing interest in this narrative that heforgot to retain his usual impassive attitude. "Such a person! Who--whowas this person?" he inquired eagerly, without apparently realizing theimpropriety of his question.
But the girl felt indignant. She silenced her indiscreet questionerwith a haughty glance, and in the driest possible tone, replied: "I haveforgotten the name."
Cut to the quick, the doctor suddenly resumed his master's pose; but allthe same his imperturbable sang-froid was sensibly impaired. "Believeme, mademoiselle, that interest alone--a most respectful interest--"
She did not even seem to hear his excuse, but resumed: "I know, however,monsieur, that M. de Chalusse intended applying to the police if hefailed to obtain this address from the person in question. After this heappeared to be entirely at ease. At three o'clock he rang for his valet,and ordered dinner two hours earlier than usual. We sat down to tableat about half-past four. At five he rose, kissed me gayly, and left thehouse on foot, telling me that he was confident of success, and that hedid not expect to return before midnight." The poor child's firmness nowgave way; her eyes filled with tears, and it was in a voice choked withsobs that she added, pointing to M. de Chalusse: "But at half-past sixthey brought him back as you see him now----"
An interval of silence ensued, so deep that one could hear the faintbreathing of the unconscious man still lying motionless on his bed.However, the particulars of the attack were yet to be learned; and itwas M. Casimir whom the physician next addressed. "What did the driverwho brought your master home say to you?"
"Oh! almost nothing, sir; not ten words."
"You must find this man and bring him to me."
Two servants rushed out in search of him. He could not be far away, forhis vehicle was still standing in the courtyard. They found him ina wine-shop near by. Some of the inquisitive spectators who had beendisappointed in their curiosity by Casimir's thoughtfulness had treatedhim to some liquor, and in exchange he had told them all he knew aboutthe affair. He had quite recovered from his fright, and was cheerful,even gay.
"Come make haste, you are wanted," said the servants.
He emptied his glass and followed them with very bad grace, mutteringand swearing between his set teeth. The doctor, strange to say, wasconsiderate enough to go out into the hall to question him; but noinformation of value was gained by the man's answers. He declared thatthe gentleman had hired him at twelve o'clock, hoping by this meansto extort pay for five hours' driving, which, joined to the liberalgratuity he could not fail to obtain, would remunerate him handsomelyfor his day's work. Living is dear, it should be remembered, and afellow makes as much as he can.
When the cabby had gone off, still growling, although a couple of louishad been placed in his hand, the doctor returned to his patient. Heinvoluntarily assumed his accustomed attitude, with crossed arms, agloomy expression of countenance, and his forehead furrowed as if withthought and anxiety. But this time he was not acting a part. In spite,or rather by reason of, the full explanation that had been given him,he found something suspicious and mysterious in the whole affair. Athousand vague and undefinable suspicions crossed his mind. Was he inpresence of a crime? Certainly, evidently not. But what was the causethen of the mystery and reticence he detected? Was he upon the track ofsome lamentable family secret--one of those terrible scandals, concealedfor a long time, but which at last burst forth with startling effect?The prospect of being mixed up in such an affair caused him infinitepleasure. It would bring him into notice; he would be mentioned in thepapers; and his increased practice would fill his hands with gold.
But what could he do to ingratiate himself with these people, imposehimself upon them if needs be? He reflected for some time, and finallywhat he thought an excellent plan occurred to him. He approachedMademoiselle Marguerite, who was weeping in an arm-chair, and touchedher gently on the shoulder. She sprang to her feet at once. "One morequestion, mademoiselle," said he, imparting as much solemnity to histone as he could. "Do you know what liquid it was that M. de Chalussetook this morning?"
"Alas! no, monsieur."
"It is very important that I should know. The accuracy of my diagnosisis dependent upon it. What has become of the vial?"
"I think M. de Chalusse replaced it in his escritoire."
The physician pointed to an article of furniture to the left of thefireplace: "There?" he asked.
"Yes, monsieur."
He deliberated, but at last conquering his hesitation, he said: "Couldwe not obtain this vial?"
Mademoiselle Marguerite blushed. "I haven't the key," she faltered, inevident embarrassment.
M. Casimir approached: "It must be in the count's pocket, and ifmademoiselle will allow me----"
But she stepped back with outstretched arms as if to prote
ct theescritoire. "No," she exclaimed, "no--the escritoire shall not betouched. I will not permit it----"
"But, mademoiselle," insisted the doctor, "your father----"
"The Count de Chalusse is not my father!"
Dr. Jodon was greatly disconcerted by Mademoiselle Marguerite'svehemence. "Ah!" said he, in three different tones, "ah! ah!"
In less than a second, a thousand strange and contradictory suppositionsdarted through his brain. Who, then, could this girl be, if she were notMademoiselle de Chalusse? What right had she in that house? How wasit that she reigned as a sovereign there? Above all, why this angryoutburst for no other apparent cause than a very natural and exceedinglyinsignificant request on his part?
However, she had regained her self-possession, and it was easy to seeby her manner that she was seeking some means of escape from threateneddanger. At last she found it. "Casimir," she said, authoritatively,"search M. de Chalusse's pocket for the key of his escritoire."
Astonished by what he regarded as a new caprice, the valet obeyed. Hegathered up the garments strewn over the floor, and eventually drew akey from one of the waistcoat pockets. Mademoiselle Marguerite took itfrom him, and then in a determined tone, exclaimed: "A hammer."
It was brought; whereupon, to the profound amazement of the physician,she knelt down beside the fireplace, laid the key upon one of theandirons, and with a heavy blow of the hammer, broke it into fragments."Now," said she, quietly, "my mind will be at rest. I am certain," sheadded, turning toward the servants, "that M. de Chalusse would approvewhat I have done. When he recovers, he will have another key made."
The explanation was superfluous. All the servants understood the motivethat had influenced her, and were saying to themselves, "Mademoiselle isright. It would not do to touch the escritoire of a dying man. Who knowsbut what there are millions in it? If anything were missed, why any ofus might be accused. But if the key is destroyed, it will be impossibleto suspect any one."
However, the physician's conjectures were of an entirely differentnature. "What can there be in that escritoire which she desires toconceal?" he thought.
But there was no excuse for prolonging his visit. Once more he examinedthe sick man, whose condition remained unchanged; and then, afterexplaining what was to be done in his absence, he declared that he mustleave at once, as he had a number of important visits to make; he added,however, that he would return about midnight.
"Madame Leon and I will watch over M. de Chalusse," replied MademoiselleMarguerite; "that is sufficient assurance, monsieur, that your orderswill be obeyed to the letter. Only--you will not take offence, I trust,if I ask the count's regular physician to meet you in consultation."
Such a proposal was anything but pleasing to M. Jodon, who had met withthe same misfortune in this aristocratic neighborhood several timesbefore. When an accident happened, he was summoned because he chancedto be close at hand, but just as he was flattering himself that hehad gained a desirable patient, he found himself in presence of somecelebrated physician, who had come from a distance in his carriage.Accustomed to such disappointments, he knew how to conceal hisdissatisfaction.
"Were I in your place, mademoiselle, I should do precisely what yousuggest," he answered, "and should you think it unnecessary for me tocall, I----"
"Oh! monsieur, on the contrary, I shall certainly expect you."
"In that case, very well." Thereupon he bowed and left the room.
But Mademoiselle Marguerite followed him on to the landing. "You know,monsieur," she said, speaking rapidly in an undertone, "that I am notM. de Chalusse's daughter. You may, therefore, tell me the truth. Is hiscondition hopeless?"
"Alarming--yes; hopeless--no."
"But, monsieur, this terrible unconsciousness----"
"It usually follows such an attack as he has been the victim of. Stillwe may hope that the paralysis will gradually disappear, and the powerof motion return after a time."
Mademoiselle Marguerite was listening, pale, agitated, and embarrassed.It was evident that she had a question on her lips which she scarcelydared to ask. At last, however, summoning all her courage, sheexclaimed: "And if M. de Chalusse should not recover, will he diewithout regaining consciousness--without being able to speak?"
"I am unable to say, mademoiselle--the count's malady is one of thosewhich set at naught all the hypotheses of science."
She thanked him sadly, sent a servant to summon Madame Leon, andreturned to the count's room.
As for the doctor, he said to himself as he went downstairs, "What astrange girl! Is she afraid that the count will regain consciousness?or, on the contrary, does she wish him to speak? Is there any questionof a will under all this? What else can it be? What is at stake?" Hispreoccupation was so intense that he almost forgot where he was going,and he paused on every step. It was not until the fresh air of thecourtyard blew upon his face, reminding him of the realities of life,that the charlatanesque element in his nature regained the ascendency."My friend," he said, addressing M. Casimir, who was lighting him out,"you must at once have some straw spread over the street so as to deadenthe sound of the vehicles. And to-morrow, you must inform the commissaryof police."
Ten minutes later a thick bed of straw had been strewed across thethoroughfare, and the drivers of passing vehicles involuntarilyslackened their speed, for every one in Paris knows what this signifies.M. Casimir personally superintended the work which was intrusted to thegrooms, and he was about to return indoors again, when a young man, whohad been walking up and down in front of the mansion for more than anhour, hastily approached him. He was a beardless fellow with a strangelywrinkled face, as leaden-tinted as that of a confirmed absinthe-drinker.His general expression was shrewd, and at the same time impudent, andsurprising audacity gleamed in his eyes. "What do you want?" asked M.Casimir.
The young fellow bowed humbly, and replied, "Ah, don't you recognizeme, monsieur? I'm Toto--excuse me--Victor Chupin, employed by M. IsidoreFortunat."
"Oh, yes. I recollect."
"I came, in obedience to my employer's orders, to inquire if you hadobtained the information you promised him; but seeing that something hadhappened at your house, I didn't dare go in, but decided to watch foryou----"
"And you did quite right, my lad. I have no information to give you--ah,yes! stop! The Marquis de Valorsay was closeted with the count for twohours yesterday. But what good will that do? The count has been takensuddenly ill, and he will scarcely live through the night."
Victor Chupin was thunderstruck. "Impossible!" he cried. "Is it for himthat the straw has been strewed in the street?"
"It's for him."
"What a lucky fellow! No one would go to such expense for me! But I havean idea that my guv'nor will hardly laugh when I tell him this. Still,thank you all the same, m'sieur, and au revoir." He was darting off whena sudden thought detained him. "Excuse me," said he, with conjurorlike volubility; "I was so horrified that I forgot business. Tellme, m'sieur, if the count dies, you'll take charge of the funeralarrangements, won't you? Very well; a word of advice then. Don't go tothe regular undertakers, but come to me: here's my address"--profferinga card--"I will treat with the undertakers for you, and take charge ofeverything. It will be much better and far cheaper for you, on accountof certain arrangements I've made with these parties. Everything, to thevery last plume, is warranted to give perfect satisfaction. Each itemwill be specified in the bill, and can be verified during the ceremony,no payment exacted until after delivery. Well, is it understood?"
The valet shrugged his shoulders. "Nonsense!" said he, carelessly; "whatis all that to me?"
"Ah! I forgot to mention that there would be a commission of two hundredfrancs to divide between us."
"That's consideration. Give me your card, and rely on me. My complimentsto M. Fortunat, please." And so saying, he re-entered the house.
Victor Chupin drew a huge silver watch from his pocket and consultedit. "Five minutes to eight," he growled, "and the guv'nor expects me ateight prec
isely. I shall have to stretch out my legs."