Baron Trigault's Vengeance

  II.

  The sumptuous interior of the Trigault mansion was on a par with itsexternal magnificence. Even the entrance bespoke the lavish millionaire,eager to conquer difficulties, jealous of achieving the impossible, andnever haggling when his fancies were concerned. The spacious hall, pavedwith costly mosaics, had been transformed into a conservatory full offlowers, which were renewed every morning. Rare plants climbed the wallsup gilded trellis work, or hung from the ceiling in vases of rare oldchina, while from among the depths of verdure peered forth exquisitestatues, the work of sculptors of renown. On a rustic bench sat a coupleof tall footmen, as bright in their gorgeous liveries as gold coinsfresh from the mint; still, despite their splendor, they were stretchingand yawning to such a degree, that it seemed as if they would ultimatelydislocate their jaws and arms.

  "Tell me," inquired the servant who was escorting Pascal, "can any onespeak to the baron?"

  "Why?"

  "This gentleman has something to say to him."

  The two valets eyed the unknown visitor, plainly considering him tobe one of those persons who have no existence for the menials offashionable establishments, and finally burst into a hearty laugh. "Uponmy word!" exclaimed the eldest, "he's just in time. Announce him,and madame will be greatly obliged to you. She and monsieur havebeen quarrelling for a good half-hour. And, heavenly powers, isn't hetantalizing!"

  The most intense curiosity gleamed in the eyes of Pascal's conductor,and with an airy of secrecy, he asked: "What is the cause of the rumpus?That Fernand, no doubt--or some one else?"

  "No; this morning it's about M. Van Klopen."

  "Madame's dressmaker?"

  "The same. Monsieur and madame were breakfasting together--a mostunusual thing--when M. Van Klopen made his appearance. I thought tomyself, when I admitted him: 'Look out for storms!' I scented one inthe air, and in fact the dressmaker hadn't been in the room five minutesbefore we heard the baron's voice rising higher and higher. I said tomyself: 'Whew! the mantua-maker is presenting his bill!' Madame criedand went on like mad; but, pshaw! when the master really begins, there'sno one like him. There isn't a cab-driver in Paris who's his equal forswearing."

  "And M. Van Klopen?"

  "Oh, he's used to such scenes! When gentlemen abuse him he does the sameas dogs do when they come up out of the water; he just shakes his headand troubles himself no more about it. He has decidedly the best of therow. He has furnished the goods, and he'll have to be paid sooner orlater----"

  "What! hasn't he been paid then?"

  "I don't know; he's still here."

  A terrible crash of breaking china interrupted this edifyingconversation. "There!" exclaimed one of the footmen, "that's monsieur;he has smashed two or three hundred francs' worth of dishes. He MUST berich to pay such a price for his angry fits."

  "Well," observed the other, "if I were in monsieur's place I should beangry too. Would you let your wife have her dresses fitted on by a man?I says that it's indecent. I'm only a servant, but----"

  "Nonsense, it's the fashion. Besides, monsieur does not care about that.A man who----"

  He stopped short; in fact, the others had motioned him to be silent.The baron was surrounded by exceptional servants, and the presence of astranger acted as a restraint upon them. For this reason, one of them,after asking Pascal for his card, opened a door and ushered him into asmall room, saying: "I will go and inform the baron. Please wait here."

  "Here," as he called it, was a sort of smoking-room hung with cashmereof fantastic design and gorgeous hues, and encircled by a low, cushioneddivan, covered with the same material. A profusion of rare and costlyobjects was to be seen on all sides, armor, statuary, pictures,and richly ornamented weapons. But Pascal, already amazed by theconversation of the servants, did not think of examining these objectsof virtu. Through a partially open doorway, directly opposite the one hehad entered by, came the sound of loud voices in excited conversation.Baron Trigault, the baroness, and the famous Van Klopen were evidentlyin the adjoining room. It was a woman, the baroness, who was speaking,and the quivering of her clear and somewhat shrill voice betrayeda violent irritation, which was only restrained with the greatestdifficulty. "It is hard for the wife of one of the richest men in Paristo see a bill for absolute necessities disputed in this style," she wassaying.

  A man's voice, with a strong Teutonic accent, the voice of Van Klopen,the Hollander, caught up the refrain. "Yes, strict necessities, one canswear to that. And if, before flying into a passion, Monsieur le Baronhad taken the trouble to glance over my little bill, he would haveseen----"

  "No more! You bore me to death. Besides I haven't time to listen to yournonsense; they are waiting for me to play a game of whist at the club."

  This time it was the master of the house, Baron Trigault, who spoke, andPascal recognized his voice instantly.

  "If monsieur would only allow me to read the items. It will take but amoment," rejoined Van Klopen. And as if he had construed the oaththat answered him as an exclamation of assent, he began: "In June, aHungarian costume with jacket and sash, two train dresses with upperskirts and trimmings of lace, a Medicis polonaise, a jockey costume, awalking costume, a riding-habit, two morning-dresses, a Velleda costume,an evening dress."

  "I was obliged to attend the races very frequently during the month ofJune," remarked the baroness.

  But the illustrious adorner of female loveliness had already resumed hisreading. "In July we have: two morning-jackets, one promenade costume,one sailor suit, one Watteau shepherdess costume, one ordinarybathing-suit, with material for parasol and shoes to match, onePompadour bathing-suit, one dressing-gown, one close-fitting Medicismantle, two opera cloaks----"

  "And I was certainly not the most elegantly attired of the ladies atTrouville, where I spent the month of July," interrupted the baroness.

  "There are but few entries in the month of August," continuedVan Klopen. "We have: a morning-dress, a travelling-dress, withtrimmings----" And he went on and on, gasping for breath, rattling offthe ridiculous names which he gave to his "creations," and interruptedevery now and then by the blow of a clinched fist on the table, or by asavage oath.

  Pascal stood in the smoking-room, motionless with astonishment. He didnot know what surprised him the most, Van Klopen's impudence in daringto read such a bill, the foolishness of the woman who had ordered allthese things, or the patience of the husband who was undoubtedly goingto pay for them. At last, after what seemed an interminable enumeration,Van Klopen exclaimed: "And that's all!"

  "Yes, that's all," repeated the baroness, like an echo.

  "That's all!" exclaimed the baron--"that's all! That is to say, in fourmonths, at least seven hundred yards of silk, velvet, satin, and muslin,have been put on this woman's back!"

  "The dresses of the present day require a great deal of material.Monsieur le Baron will understand that flounces, puffs, and ruches----"

  "Naturally! Total, twenty-seven thousand francs!"

  "Excuse me! Twenty-seven thousand nine hundred and thirty-three francs,ninety centimes."

  "Call it twenty-eight thousand francs then. Ah, well, M. Van Klopen, ifyou are ever paid for this rubbish it won't be by me."

  If Van Klopen was expecting this denouement, Pascal wasn't; in fact,he was so startled, that an exclamation escaped him which would havebetrayed his presence under almost any other circumstances. What amazedhim most was the baron's perfect calmness, following, as it did, sucha fit of furious passion, violent enough even to be heard in thevestibule. "Either he has extraordinary control over himself or thisscene conceals some mystery," thought Pascal.

  Meanwhile, the man-milliner continued to urge his claims--but the baron,instead of replying, only whistled; and wounded by this breach of goodmanners, Van Klopen at last exclaimed: "I have had dealings with all thedistinguished men in Europe, and never before did one of them refuse topay me for his wife's toilettes."

  "Very well--I don't pay for them--there's the difference. Do you supposethat I, Bar
on Trigault, that I've worked like a negro for twenty yearsmerely for the purpose of aiding your charming and useful branch ofindustry? Gather up your papers, Mr. Ladies' Tailor. There maybe husbands who believe themselves responsible for their wives'follies--it's quite possible there are--but I'm not made of that kindof stuff. I allow Madame Trigault eight thousand francs a month forher toilette--that is sufficient--and it is a matter for you and her toarrange together. What did I tell you last year when I paid a bill offorty thousand francs? That I would not be responsible for any more ofmy wife's debts. And I not only said it, I formally notified you throughmy private secretary."

  "I remember, indeed----"

  "Then why do you come to me with your bill? It is with my wife that youhave opened an account. Apply to her, and leave me in peace."

  "Madame promised me----"

  "Teach her to keep her promises."

  "It costs a great deal to retain one's position as a leader of fashion;and many of the most distinguished ladies are obliged to run into debt,"urged Van Klopen.

  "That's their business. But my wife is not a fine lady. She is simplyMadame Trigault, a baroness, thanks to her husband's gold and thecondescension of a worthy German prince, who was in want of money. SHEis not a person of consequence--she has no rank to keep up."

  The baroness must have attached immense importance to the satisfying ofVan Klopen's demands, for concealing the anger this humiliating sceneundoubtedly caused her, she condescended to try and explain, and even toentreat. "I have been a little extravagant, perhaps," she said; "but Iwill be more prudent in future. Pay, monsieur--pay just once more."

  "No!"

  "If not for my sake, for your own."

  "Not a farthing."

  By the baron's tone, Pascal realized that his wife would never shakehis fixed determination. Such must also have been the opinion of theillustrious ruler of fashion, for he returned to the charge with anargument he had held in reserve. "If this is the case, I shall, to mygreat regret, be obliged to fail in the respect I owe to Monsieur leBaron, and to place this bill in the hands of a solicitor."

  "Send him along--send him along."

  "I cannot believe that monsieur wishes a law-suit."

  "In that you are greatly mistaken. Nothing would please me better. Itwould at last give me an opportunity to say what I think about yourdealings. Do you think that wives are to turn their husbands intomachines for supplying money? You draw the bow-string too tightly, mydear fellow--it will break. I'll proclaim on the house-top what othersdare not say, and we'll see if I don't succeed in organizing a littlecrusade against you." And animated by the sound of his own words,his anger came back to him, and in a louder and ever louder voice hecontinued: "Ah! you prate of the scandal that would be created by myresistance to your demands. That's your system; but, with me, it won'tsucceed. You threaten me with a law-suit; very good. I'll take it uponmyself to enlighten Paris, for I know your secrets, Mr. Dressmaker. Iknow the goings on in your establishment. It isn't always to talk aboutdress that ladies stop at your place on returning from the Bois. Yousell silks and satins no doubt; but you sell Madeira, and excellentcigarettes as well, and there are some who don't walk very straighton leaving your establishment, but smell suspiciously of tobacco andabsinthe. Oh, yes, let us go to law, by all means! I shall have anadvocate who will know how to explain the parts your customers pay, andwho will reveal how, with your assistance, they obtain money from othersources than their husband's cash-box."

  When M. Van Klopen was addressed in this style, he was not at allpleased. "And I!" he exclaimed, "I will tell people that Baron Trigault,after losing all his money at play, repays his creditors with curses."

  The noise of an overturned chair told Pascal that the baron had sprungup in a furious passion "You may say what you like, you rascally fool!but not in my house," he shouted. "Leave--leave, or I will ring----"

  "Monsieur----"

  "Leave, leave, I tell you, or I sha'n't have the patience to wait for aservant!"

  He must have joined action to word, and have seized Van Klopen bythe collar to thrust him into the hall, for Pascal heard a sound ofscuffling, a series of oaths worthy of a coal-heaver, two or threefrightened cries from the baroness, and several guttural exclamationsin German. Then a door closed with such violence that the whole houseshook, and a magnificent clock, fixed to the wall of the smoking-room,fell on to the floor.

  If Pascal had not heard this scene, he would have deemed it incredible.How could one suppose that a creditor would leave this princely mansionwith his bill unpaid? But more and more clearly he understood that theremust be some greater cause of difference between husband and wife thanthis bill of twenty-eight thousand francs. For what was this amount toa confirmed gambler who, without as much as a frown, gained or lost afortune every evening of his life. Evidently there was some skeleton inthis household--one of those terrible secrets which make a man and hiswife enemies, and all the more bitter enemies as they are bound togetherby a chain which it is impossible to break. And undoubtedly, a good manyof the insults which the baron had heaped upon Van Klopen must have beenintended for the baroness. These thoughts darted through Pascal's mindwith the rapidity of lightning, and showed him the horrible positionin which he was placed. The baron, who had been so favorably disposedtoward him, and from whom he was expecting a great service, wouldundoubtedly hate him, undoubtedly become his enemy, when he learnedthat he had been a listener, although an involuntary one, to thisconversation with Van Klopen. How did it happen that he had been placedin this dangerous position? What had become of the footman who had takenhis card? These were questions which he was unable to answer. And whatwas he to do? If he could have retired noiselessly, if he could havereached the courtyard and have made his escape without being observed hewould not have hesitated. But was this plan practicable? And would nothis card betray him? Would it not be discovered sooner or later that hehad been in the smoking-room while M. Van Klopen was in the dining-room?In any case, delicacy of feeling as well as his own interest forbade himto remain any longer a listener to the private conversation of the baronand his wife.

  He therefore noisily moved a chair, and coughed in that affected stylewhich means in every country: "Take care--I'm here!" But he did notsucceed in attracting attention. And yet the silence was profound; hecould distinctly hear the creaking of the baron's boots, as he pacedto and fro, and the sound of fingers nervously beating a tattoo on thetable. If he desired to avoid hearing the confidential conversation,which would no doubt ensue between the baron and his wife, there wasbut one course for him to pursue, and that was to reveal his presence atonce. He was about to do so, when some one opened a door which must haveled from the hall into the dining-room. He listened attentively, butonly heard a few confused words, to which the baron replied: "Very well.That's sufficient. I will see him in a moment."

  Pascal breathed freely once more. "They have just given him my card," hethought. "I can remain now; he will come here in a moment."

  The baron must really have started to leave the room, for his wifeexclaimed: "One word more: have you quite decided?"

  "Oh, fully!"

  "You are resolved to leave me exposed to the persecutions of mydressmaker?"

  "Van Klopen is too charming and polite to cause you the least worry."

  "You will brave the disgrace of a law-suit?"

  "Nonsense! You know very well that he won't bring any action againstme--unfortunately. And, besides, pray tell me where the disgracewould be? I have a foolish wife--is that my fault? I oppose her absurdextravagance--haven't I a right to do so? If all husbands were ascourageous, we should soon close the establishments of these artful men,who minister to your vanity, and use you ladies as puppets, or livingadvertisements, to display the absurd fashions which enrich them."

  The baron took two or three more steps forward, as if about to leave theroom, but his wife interposed: "The Baroness Trigault, whose husbandhas an income of seven or eight hundred thousand francs a year, can't goabout cl
ad like a simple woman of the middle classes."

  "I should see nothing so very improper in that."

  "Oh, I know. Only your ideas don't coincide with mine. I shall neverconsent to make myself ridiculous among the ladies of my set--among myfriends."

  "It would indeed be a pity to arouse the disapproval of your friends."

  This sneering remark certainly irritated the baroness, for it was withthe greatest vehemence that she replied: "All my friends are ladies ofthe highest rank in society--noble ladies!"

  The baron no doubt shrugged his shoulders, for in a tone of crushingirony and scorn, he exclaimed: "Noble ladies! whom do you callnoble ladies, pray? The brainless fools who only think of displayingthemselves and making themselves notorious?--the senseless idiots whopique themselves on surpassing lewd women in audacity, extravagance, andeffrontery, who fleece their husbands as cleverly as courtesans fleecetheir lovers? Noble ladies! who drink, and smoke, and carouse, whoattend masked balls, and talk slang! Noble ladies! the idiots who longfor the applause of the crowd, and consider notoriety to be desirableand flattering. A woman is only noble by her virtues--and the chiefof all virtues, modesty, is entirely wanting in your illustriousfriends----"

  "Monsieur," interrupted the baroness, in a voice husky with anger, "youforget yourself--you----"

  But the baron was well under way. "If it is scandal that crowns onea great lady, you ARE one--and one of the greatest; for you arenotorious--almost as notorious as Jenny Fancy. Can't I learn fromthe newspapers all your sayings and gestures, your amusements, youroccupations, and the toilettes you wear? It is impossible to read of afirst performance at a theatre, or of a horse-race, without findingyour name coupled with that of Jenny Fancy, or Cora Pearl, or NinetteSimplon. I should be a very strange husband indeed, if I wasn't proudand delighted. Ah! you are a treasure to the reporters. On the daybefore yesterday the Baroness Trigault skated in the Bois. Yesterday shewas driving in her pony-carriage. To-day she distinguished herself byher skill at pigeon-shooting. To-morrow she will display herself halfnude in some tableaux vivants. On the day after to-morrow she willinaugurate a new style of hair-dressing, and take part in a comedy. Itis always the Baroness Trigault who is the observed of all observers atVincennes. The Baroness Trigault has lost five hundred louis in betting.The Baroness Trigault uses her lorgnette with charming impertinence.It is she who has declared it proper form to take a 'drop' on returningfrom the Bois. No one is so famed for 'form,' as the baroness--andsilk merchants have bestowed her name upon a color. People rave of theTrigault blue--what glory! There are also costumes Trigault, forthe witty, elegant baroness has a host of admirers who follow hereverywhere, and loudly sing her praises. This is what I, a plain, honestman, read every day in the newspapers. The whole world not only knowshow my wife dresses, but how she looks en dishabille, and how sheis formed; folks are aware that she has an exquisite foot, adivinely-shaped leg, and a perfect hand. No one is ignorant of the factthat my wife's shoulders are of dazzling whiteness, and that high onthe left shoulder there is a most enticing little mole. I had thesatisfaction of reading this particular last evening. It is charming,upon my word! and I am truly a fortunate man!"

  In the smoking-room, Pascal could hear the baroness angrily stamp herfoot, as she exclaimed: "It is an outrageous insult--your journalistsare most impertinent."

  "Why? Do they ever trouble honest women?"

  "They wouldn't trouble me if I had a husband who knew how to make themtreat me with respect!"

  The baron laughed a strident, nervous laugh, which it was not pleasantto hear, and which revealed the fact that intense suffering was hiddenbeneath all this banter. "Would you like me to fight a duel then? Aftertwenty years has the idea of ridding yourself of me occurred to youagain? I can scarcely believe it. You know too well that you wouldreceive none of my money, that I have guarded against that. Besides, youwould be inconsolable if the newspapers ceased talking about you for asingle day. Respect yourself, and you will be respected. The publicityyou complain of is the last anchor which prevents society from driftingone knows not where. Those who would not listen to the warning voice ofhonor and conscience are restrained by the fear of a little paragraphwhich might disclose their shame. Now that a woman no longer has aconscience, the newspapers act in place of it. And I think it quiteright, for it is our only hope of salvation."

  By the stir in the adjoining room, Pascal felt sure that the baronesshad stationed herself before the door to prevent her husband fromleaving her. "Ah! well, monsieur," she exclaimed, "I declare to youthat I must have Van Klopen's twenty-eight thousand francs before thisevening. I will have them, too; I am resolved to have them, and you willgive them to me."

  "Oh!" thundered the baron, "you WILL have them--you will----" He paused,and then, after a moment's reflection, he said: "Very well. So be it! Iwill give you this amount, but not just now. Still if, as you say, it isabsolutely necessary that you should have it to-day, there is a means ofprocuring it. Pawn your diamonds for thirty thousand francs--I authorizeyou to do so; and I give you my word of honor that I will redeem themwithin a week. Say, will you do this?" And, as the baroness made noreply, he continued: "You don't answer! shall I tell you why? It isbecause your diamonds were long since sold and replaced by imitationones; it is because you are head over heels in debt; it is because youhave stooped so low as to borrow your maid's savings; it is because youalready owe three thousand francs to one of my coachmen; it is becauseour steward lends you money at the rate of thirty or forty per cent."

  "It is false!"

  The baron sneered. "You certainly must think me a much greater fool thanI really am!" he replied. "I'm not often at home, it's true--the sightof you exasperates me; but I know what's going on. You believe me yourdupe, but you are altogether mistaken. It is not twenty-seven thousandfrancs you owe Van Klopen, but fifty or sixty thousand. However, he iscareful not to demand payment. If he brought me a bill this morning, itwas only because you had begged him to do so, and because it had beenagreed he should give you the money back if I paid him. In short, if yourequire twenty-eight thousand francs before to-night, it is because M.Fernand de Coralth has demanded that sum, and because you have promisedto give it to him!"

  Leaning against the wall of the smoking-room, speechless and motionless,holding his breath, with his hands pressed upon his heart, as if tostop its throbbings, Pascal Ferailleur listened. He no longer thoughtof flying; he no longer thought of reproaching himself for his enforcedindiscretion. He had lost all consciousness of his position. The name ofthe Viscount de Coralth, thus mentioned in the course of this frightfulscene, came as a revelation to him. He now understood the meaning of thebaron's conduct. His visit to the Rue d'Ulm, and his promises of helpwere all explained. "My mother was right," he thought; "the baron hatesthat miserable viscount mortally. He will do all in his power to assistme."

  Meanwhile, the baroness energetically denied her husband's charges. Sheswore that she did not know what he meant. What had M. de Coralth todo with all this? She commanded her husband to speak more plainly--toexplain his odious insinuations.

  He allowed her to speak for a moment, and then suddenly, in a harsh,sarcastic voice, he interrupted her by saying: "Oh! enough! No morehypocrisy! Why do you try to defend yourself? What matters one crimemore? I know only too well that what I say is true; and if you desireproofs, they shall be in your hands in less than half an hour. It is along time since I was blind--full twenty years! Nothing concerning youhas escaped my knowledge and observation since the cursed day when Idiscovered the depths of your disgrace and infamy--since the terribleevening when I heard you plan to murder me in cold blood. You had grownaccustomed to freedom of action; while I, who had gone off with thefirst gold-seekers, was braving a thousand dangers in California, so asto win wealth and luxury for you more quickly. Fool that I was! No taskseemed too hard or too distasteful when I thought of you--and I wasalways thinking of you. My mind was at peace--I had perfect faith inyou. We had a daughter; and if a fear or a doubt ent
ered my mind, I toldmyself that the sight of her cradle would drive all evil thoughtsfrom your heart. The adultery of a childless wife may be forgiven orexplained; but that of a mother, never! Fool! idiot! that I was! Withwhat joyous pride, on my return after an absence of eighteen months, Ishowed you the treasures I had brought back with me! I had two hundredthousand francs! I said to you as I embraced you: 'It is yours, mywell-beloved, the source of all my happiness!' But you did not care forme--I wearied you! You loved another! And while you were deceivingme with your caresses, you were, with fiendish skill, preparing aconspiracy which, if it had succeeded, would have resulted in my death!I should consider myself amply revenged if I could make you suffer for asingle day all the torments that I endured for long months. For this wasnot all! You had not even the excuse, if excuse it be, of a powerful,all-absorbing passion. Convinced of your treachery, I resolved toascertain everything, and I discovered that in my absence you had becomea mother. Why didn't I kill you? How did I have the courage to remainsilent and conceal what I knew? Ah! it was because, by watching you, Ihoped to discover the cursed bastard and your accomplice. It was becauseI dreamed of a vengeance as terrible as the offence. I said to myselfthat the day would come when, at any risk, you would try to see yourchild again, to embrace her, and provide for her future. Fool! foolthat I was! You had already forgotten her! When you received news of myintended return, she was sent to some foundling asylum, or left to dieupon some door-step. Have you ever thought of her? Have you ever askedwhat has become of her? ever asked yourself if she had needed breadwhile you have been living in almost regal luxury? ever asked yourselfinto what depths of vice she may have fallen?"

  "Always the same ridiculous accusation!" exclaimed the baroness.

  "Yes, always!"

  "You must know, however, that this story of a child is only a vileslander. I told you so when you spoke of it to me a dozen yearsafterward. I have repeated it a thousand times since."

  The baron uttered a sigh that was very like a sob, and without payingany heed to his wife's words, he continued: "If I consented to allowyou to remain under my roof, it was only for the sake of our daughter.I trembled lest the scandal of a separation should fall upon her. But itwas useless suffering on my part. She was as surely lost as you yourselfwere; and it was your work, too!"

  "What! you blame me for that?"

  "Whom ought I to blame, then? Who took her to balls, and theatres andraces--to every place where a young girl ought NOT to be taken? Whoinitiated her into what you call high life? and who used her as adiscreet and easy chaperon? Who married her to a wretch who is adisgrace to the title he bears, and who has completed the work ofdemoralization you began? And what is your daughter to-day? Herextravagance has made her notorious even among the shameless women whopretend to be leaders of society. She is scarcely twenty-two, and thereis not a single prejudice left for her to brave! Her husband is thecompanion of actresses and courtesans; her own companions are nobetter--and in less than two years the million of francs whichI bestowed on her as a dowry has been squandered, recklesslysquandered--for there isn't a penny of it left. And, at this very hour,my daughter and my son-in-law are plotting to extort money from me. Onthe day before yesterday--listen carefully to this--my son-in-law cameto ask me for a hundred thousand francs, and when I refused them, hethreatened if I did not give them to him that he would publish someletters written by my daughter--by his wife--to some low scoundrel.I was horrified and gave him what he asked. But that same evening Ilearned that the husband and wife, my daughter and my son-in-law, hadconcocted this vile conspiracy together. Yes, I have positive proofsof it. Leaving here, and not wishing to return home that day, hetelegraphed the good news to his wife. But in his delight he made amistake in the address, and the telegram was brought here. I opened it,and read: 'Papa has fallen into the trap, my darling. I beat my drum,and he surrendered at once.' Yes, that is what he dared to write, andsign with his own name, and then send to his wife--my daughter!"

  Pascal was absolutely terrified. He wondered if he were not the victimof some absurd nightmare--if his senses were not playing him false.He had little conception of the terrible dramas which are constantlyenacted in these superb mansions, so admired and envied by the passingcrowd. He thought that the baroness would be crushed--that she wouldfall on her knees before her husband. What a mistake! The tone ofher voice told him that, instead of yielding, she was only bent onretaliation.

  "Does your son-in-law do anything worse than you?" she exclaimed. "Howdare you censure him--you who drag your name through all the gamblingdens of Europe?"

  "Wretch!" interrupted the baron, "wretch!" But quickly masteringhimself, he remarked: "Yes, it's true that I gamble. People say, 'Thatgreat Baron Trigault is never without cards in his hands!' But you knowvery well that I really hold gambling in horror--that I loathe it. Butwhen I play, I sometimes forget--for I must forget. I tried drink, butit wouldn't drown thought, so I had recourse to cards; and when thestakes are large, and my fortune is imperilled, I sometimes loseconsciousness of my misery!"

  The baroness gave vent to a cold, sneering laugh, and, in a tone ofmocking commiseration, she said: "Poor baron! It is no doubt in the hopeof forgetting your sorrows that you spend all your time--when you arenot gambling--with a woman named Lia d'Argeles. She's rather pretty. Ihave seen her several times in the Bois----"

  "Be silent!" exclaimed the baron, "be silent! Don't insult anunfortunate woman who is a thousand times better than yourself." And,feeling that he could endure no more--that he could no longer restrainhis passion, he cried: "Out of my sight! Go! or I sha'n't be responsiblefor my acts!"

  Pascal heard a chair move, the floor creak, and a moment afterward alady passed quickly through the smoking-room. How was it that she didnot perceive him? No doubt, because she was greatly agitated, in spiteof her bravado. And, besides, he was standing a little back in theshade. But he saw her, and his brain reeled. "Good Lord! what alikeness!" he murmured.