Baron Trigault's Vengeance

  VI.

  "This man carries away your secret; you are lost." A sinister voicewhispered these words in Madame Lia d'Argeles's heart when M. IsidoreFortunat, after being rudely dismissed, closed the door of herdrawing-room behind him. This man had addressed her by the ancient andillustrious name of Chalusse which she had not heard for twenty years,and which she had forbidden her own lips to pronounce. This man knewthat she, Lia d'Argeles, was really a Durtal de Chalusse.

  This frightful certainty overwhelmed her. It is true this man Fortunathad declared that his visit was entirely disinterested. He had pretendedthat his regard for the Chalusse family, and the compassion aroused inhis heart by the unfortunate plight of Mademoiselle Marguerite, werethe only motives that has influenced him in taking this step. However,Madame d'Argeles's experience in life had left her but limited faithin apparent or pretended disinterestedness. This is a practical age;chivalrous sentiments are expensive--as she had learned conclusively."If the man came here," she murmured, "it was only because he thoughthe might derive some benefit from the prosecution of my claim to mypoor brother's estate. In refusing to listen to his entreaties, I havedeprived him of this expected profit and so I have made him my enemy.Ah! I was foolish to send him away like that! I ought to have pretendedto listen--I ought to have bound him by all sorts of promises."

  She suddenly paused. It occurred to her that M. Fortunat could not havegone very far; so that, if she sent for him to come back, she mightperhaps be able to repair her blunder. Without losing a second, sherushed downstairs, and ordered her concierge and a servant to run afterthe gentleman who had just left the house, and ask him to return; totell him that she had reflected, and wished to speak to him again. Theyrushed out in pursuit, and she remained in the courtyard, her heartheavy with anxiety. Too late! About a quarter of an hour afterwardher emissaries returned. They had made all possible haste in contrarydirections, but they had seen no one in the street who at all resembledthe person they were looking for. They had questioned the shopkeepers,but no one had seen him pass. "It doesn't matter," faltered Madamed'Argeles, in a tone that belied her words. And, anxious to escapethe evident curiosity of her servants, she hastened back to the littleboudoir where she usually spent her mornings.

  M. Fortunat had left his card--that is to say, his address--and itwould have been an easy matter to send a servant to his house. She wasstrongly tempted to do so; but she ultimately decided that it wouldbe better to wait--that an hour more or less would make but littledifference. She had sent her trusty servant, Job, for Baron Trigault; hewould probably return with the baron at any moment; and the baron wouldadvise her. He would know at once what was the best course for her topursue. And so she waited for his coming in breathless anxiety; and themore she reflected, the more imminent her peril seemed, for she realizedthat M. Fortunat must be a very dangerous and cunning man. He had set atrap for her, and she had allowed herself to be caught. Perhaps he hadonly suspected the truth when he presented himself at the house. He hadsuddenly announced the death of the Count de Chalusse; she had betrayedherself; and any doubts he might have entertained were dispelled. "If Ihad only had sufficient presence of mind to deny it," she murmured."If I had only been courageous enough to reply that I knew absolutelynothing about the person he spoke of. Ah! then he would have gone awayconvinced that he was mistaken."

  But would the smooth-spoken visitor have declared that he kneweverything, if he had not really penetrated the mystery of her life? Itwas scarcely probable. He had implored her to accept the property, ifnot for her own sake at least for the sake of another. And when sheasked him whom he meant he had answered, "Mademoiselle Marguerite,"but he was undoubtedly thinking of Wilkie. So this man, this IsidoreFortunat, knew that she had a son. Perhaps he was even acquainted withhim personally. In his anger he would very likely hasten to Wilkie'srooms and tell him everything. This thought filled the wretched woman'sheart with despair. What! Had she not yet expiated her fault? Must shesuffer again?

  For the first time a terrible doubt came over her. What she had formerlyregarded as a most sublime effort of maternal love, was, perhaps, even agreater crime than the first she had committed. She had given her honoras the price of her son's happiness and prosperity. Had she a right todo so? Did not the money she had lavished upon him contain every germ ofcorruption, misfortune, and shame? How terrible Wilkie's grief and ragewould be if he chanced to hear the truth!

  Alas! he would certainly pay no heed to the extenuating circumstances;he would close his ears to all attempts at justification. He would bepitiless. He would have naught but hatred and scorn to bestow upona mother who had fallen from the highest rank in society down toeverlasting infamy. She fancied she heard him saying in an indignantvoice, "It would have been better to have allowed me to die ofstarvation than to have given me bread purchased at such a price! Whyhave you dishonored me by your ill-gotten wealth? Fallen, you might haveraised yourself by honest toil. You ought to have made me a laborer, andnot a spoiled idler, incapable of earning an honest livelihood. As theson of a poor, betrayed, and deserted woman, with whom I could haveshared my scanty earnings, I might have looked the world proudly in theface. But where can the son of Lia d'Argeles hide his disgrace afterplaying the gentleman for twenty years with Lia d'Argeles's money?" Yes,Wilkie would certainly say this if he ever learned the truth; and hewould learn it--she felt sure of it. How could she hope to keep asecret which was known to Baron Trigault, M. Patterson, the Viscount deCoralth, and M. Fortunat--four persons! She had confidence in the firsttwo; she believed she had a hold on the third, but the fourth--Fortunat!

  The hours went by; and still Job did not return. What was the meaningof this delay? Had he failed to find the baron? At last the sound ofcarriage-wheels in the courtyard made her start. "That's Job!" she saidto herself. "He brings the baron."

  Alas! no. Job returned alone. And yet the honest fellow had sparedneither pains nor horseflesh. He had visited every place where there wasthe least probability of finding the baron, and he was everywhere toldthat Baron Trigault had not been seen for several days. "In that case,you ought to have gone to his house. Perhaps he is there," remarkedMadame d'Argeles.

  "Madame knows that the baron is never at home. I did go there, however,but in vain."

  This chanced to be one of three consecutive days which Baron Trigaulthad spent with Kami-Bey, the Turkish ambassador. It had been agreedbetween them that they should play until one or the other had lost fivehundred thousand francs; and, in order to prevent any waste of "precioustime," as the baron was wont to remark, they neither of them stirredfrom the Grand Hotel, where Kami-Bey had a suite of rooms. They ate andslept there. By some strange chance, Madame d'Argeles had not heard ofthis duel with bank-notes, although nothing else was talked of at theclubs; indeed, the Figaro had already published a minute description ofthe apartment where the contest was going on; and every evening itgave the results. According to the latest accounts, the baron had theadvantage; he had won about two hundred and eighty thousand francs.

  "I only returned to inform madame that I had so far been unsuccessful,"said Job. "But I will recommence the search at once."

  "That is unnecessary," replied Madame d'Argeles. "The baron willundoubtedly drop in this evening, after dinner, as usual."

  She said this, and tried her best to believe it; but in her secret heartshe felt that she could no longer depend upon the baron's assistance. "Iwounded him this morning," she thought. "He went away more angry than Ihad ever seen him before. He is incensed with me; and who knows how longit will be before he comes again?"

  Still she waited, with feverish anxiety, listening breathlessly to everysound in the street, and trembling each time she heard or fanciedshe heard a carriage stop at the door. However, at two o'clock in themorning the baron had not made his appearance. "It is too late--he won'tcome!" she murmured.

  But now her sufferings were less intolerable, for excess of wretchednesshad deadened her sensibility. Utter prostration paralyzed her energiesand benumbed
her mind. Ruin seemed so inevitable that she no longerthought of avoiding it; she awaited it with that blind resignationdisplayed by Spanish women, who, when they hear the roll of thunder,fall upon their knees, convinced that lightning is about to strike theirdefenceless heads. She tottered to her room, flung herself on the bed,and instantly fell asleep. Yes, she slept the heavy, leaden slumberwhich always follows a great mental crisis, and which falls like God'sblessing upon a tortured mind. On waking up, her first act was to ringfor her maid, in order to send a message to Job, to go out again insearch of the baron. But the faithful servant had divined his mistress'swishes, and had already started off of his own accord. It was pastmid-day when he returned, but his face was radiant; and it was in atriumphant voice that he announced: "Monsieur le Baron Trigault."

  Madame d'Argeles sprang up, and greeted the baron with a joyfulexclamation. "Ah! how kind of you to come!" she exclaimed. "You are mostwelcome. If you knew how anxiously I have been waiting for you!" He madeno reply. "If you knew," continued Madame d'Argeles, "if you only knew."But she paused, for in spite of her own agitation, she was suddenlystruck by the peculiar expression on her visitor's face. He was standingsilent and motionless in the centre of the room, and his eyes were fixedupon her with a strange, persistent stare in which she could readall the contradictory feelings which were battling for mastery in hismind--anger, hatred, pity, and forgiveness. Madame d'Argeles shuddered.So her cup of sorrow was not yet full. A new misfortune was about tofall upon her. She had hoped that the baron would be able to alleviateher wretchedness, but it seemed as if he were fated to increase it. "Whydo you look at me like that?" she asked, anxiously. "What have I done?"

  "You, my poor Lia--nothing!"

  "Then--what is it? Oh, my God! you frighten me."

  "What is it? Well, I am going to tell you," he said, as he steppedforward and took her hand in his own. "You know that I have beeninfamously duped and deceived, that the happiness of my life has beendestroyed by a scoundrel who tempted the wife I so fondly loved toforget her duty, and trample her honor under foot. You have heard myvows of vengeance if I ever succeeded in discovering him. Ah, well, Lia,I have discovered him. The man who stole my share of earthly happinesswas the Count de Chalusse, your brother."

  With a sudden gesture Madame d'Argeles freed her hand from the baron'sgrasp, and recoiled as terrified as if she had seen a spectre rise upbefore her. Then with her hands extended as if to ward off the horribleapparition, she exclaimed: "O, my God!"

  A bitter smile curved the baron's lips. "What do you fear?" he asked."Isn't your brother dead? He has defrauded me alike of happiness andvengeance!"

  If her son's life had depended on a single word, Madame d'Argeles couldnot have uttered it. She knew what mental agony had urged the baron toa sort of moral suicide, and led him to contract the vice in which hewasted his life and squandered, or, at least risk, his millions.

  "Nor is this all," he continued. "Listen. As I have often told you, Iwas sure that my wife became a mother in my absence. I sought thechild for years, hoping that through the offspring I might discover thefather. Ah, well! I've found what I sought, at last. The child is nowa beautiful young girl. She lives at the Hotel de Chalusse as yourbrother's daughter. She is known as Mademoiselle Marguerite."

  Madame d'Argeles listened, leaning against the wall for support, andtrembling like a leaf. Her reason was shaken by so many repeated blows,and her son, her brother, Marguerite, Pascal Ferailleur, Coralth,Valorsay--all those whom she loved or feared, or hated--rose likespectres before her troubled brain. The horror of the truth exceeded hermost frightful apprehensions. The strangeness of the reality surpassedevery flight of fancy. And, moreover, the baron's calmness increased herstupor. She so often had heard him give vent to his rage and despair interrible threats, that she could not believe he would be thus resigned.But was his calmness real? Was it not a mask, would not his furysuddenly break forth?

  However, he continued, "It is thus that destiny makes us its sport--itis thus that it laughs at our plans. Do you remember, Lia, the day whenI met you wandering through the streets of Paris--with your child inyour arms--pale and half dead with fatigue, faint for want of food,homeless and penniless? You saw no refuge but in death, as you havesince told me. How could I imagine when I rescued you that I was savingmy greatest enemy's sister from suicide--the sister of the man whom Iwas vainly pursuing? And yet this might not be the end, if I choseto have it otherwise. The count is dead, but I can still return himdisgrace for disgrace. He dishonored me. What prevents me from castingineffaceable opprobrium upon the great name of Chalusse, of which hewas so proud? He seduced my wife. To-day I can tell all Paris what hissister has been and what she is to-day."

  Ah! it was this--yes, it was this that Madame d'Argeles had dreaded. Shefell upon her knees, and, with clasped hands she entreated: "Pity!--oh!have pity--forgive me! Have mercy! Have I not always been a faithfuland devoted friend to you? Think of the past you have just invoked! Whohelped you then to bear your intolerable sufferings? Don't you rememberthe day when you, yourself, had determined to die by your own hand?There was a woman who persuaded you to abandon the thought of suicide.It was I!"

  He looked at her for a moment with a softer expression, tears came tohis eyes, and rolled down his cheeks. Then suddenly he raised her, andplaced her in an arm-chair, exclaiming: "Ah! you know very well that Ishall not do what I said. Don't you know me better than that? Are younot sure of my affection, are you not aware that you are sacred in myeyes?" He was evidently striving hard to master his emotion. "Besides,"he added, "I had already pardoned before coming here. It was foolish onmy part, perhaps, and for nothing in the world would I confess it to myacquaintances, but it is none the less true. I shall have my revenge ina certain fashion, however. I need only hold my peace, and the daughterof M. de Chalusse and Madame Trigault would become a lost woman. Is thisnot so? Very well, I shall offer her my assistance. It may, or may not,be another absurd and ridiculous fancy added to the many I have beenguilty of. But no matter. I have promised. And why, indeed, should thispoor girl be held responsible for the sins of her parents? I--I declaremyself on her side against the world!"

  Madame d'Argeles rose, her face radiant with joy and hope. "Then perhapswe are saved!" she exclaimed. "Ah! I knew when I sent for you that Ishould not appeal to your heart in vain!"

  She took hold of his hand as if to raise it to her lips; but he gentlywithdrew it, and inquired, with an air of astonishment: "What do youmean?"

  "That I have been cruelly punished for not wishing you to assist thatunfortunate man who was dishonored here the other evening."

  "Pascal Ferailleur?"

  "Yes, he is innocent. The Viscount de Coralth is a scoundrel. It was hewho slipped the cards which made M. Ferailleur win, into the pack, andhe did it at the Marquis de Valorsay's instigation."

  The baron looked at Madame d'Argeles with pro-found amazement. "What!"said he; "you knew this and you allowed it? You were cruel enough toremain silent when that innocent man entreated you to testify on hisbehalf! You allowed this atrocious crime to be executed under your ownroof, and under your very eyes?"

  "I was then ignorant of Mademoiselle Marguerite's existence. I did notknow that the young man was beloved by my brother's daughter--I did notknow--"

  The baron interrupted her, and exclaimed, indignantly: "Ah! what doesthat matter? It was none the less an abominable action."

  She hung her head, and in a scarcely audible voice replied: "I was notfree. I submitted to a will that was stronger than my own. If you hadheard M. de Coralth's threats you would not censure me so severely.He has discovered my secret; he knows Wilkie--I am in his power. Don'tfrown--I make no attempt to excuse myself--I am only explaining theposition in which I was placed. My peril is imminent; I have onlyconfidence in you--you alone can aid me; listen!"

  Thereupon she hastily explained M. de Coralth's position respectingherself, what she had been able to ascertain concerning the Marquis deValorsay's plans, the alarming visit
she had received from M. Fortunat,his advice and insinuations, the dangers she apprehended, and her firmdetermination to deliver Mademoiselle Marguerite from the machinationsof her enemies. Madame d'Argeles's disclosures formed, as it were, asequel to the confidential revelations of Pascal Ferailleur, and theinvoluntary confession of the Marquis de Valorsay; and the baron couldno longer doubt the existence of the shameful intrigue which had beenplanned in view of obtaining possession of the count's millions. Andif he did not, at first, understand the motives, he at least began todiscern what means had been employed. He now understood why Valorsaypersisted in his plan of marrying Mademoiselle Marguerite, even withouta fortune. "The wretch knows through Coralth that Madame d'Argeles isa Chalusse," he said to himself; "and when Mademoiselle Marguerite hasbecome his wife, he intends to oblige Madame d'Argeles to accept herbrother's estate and share it with him."

  At that same moment Madame d'Argeles finished her narrative. "And now,what shall I do?" she added.

  The baron was stroking his chin, as was his usual habit when his mindwas deeply exercised. "The first thing to be done," he replied, "is toshow Coralth in his real colors, and prove M. Ferailleur's innocence.It will probably cost me a hundred thousand francs to do so, but I shallnot grudge the money. I should probably spend as much or even more inplay next summer; and the amount had better be spent in a good causethan in swelling the dividends of my friend Blanc, at Baden."

  "But M. de Coralth will speak out as soon as he finds that I haverevealed his shameful past."

  "Let him speak."

  Madame d'Argeles shuddered. "Then the name of Chalusse will bedisgraced," said she; "and Wilkie will know who his mother is."

  "No."

  "But----"

  "Ah! allow me to finish, my dear friend. I have my plan, and it isas plain as daylight. This evening you will write to your Londoncorrespondent. Request M. Patterson to summon your son to England, underany pretext whatever; let him pretend that he wishes to give him somemoney, for instance. He will go there, of course, and then we will keephim there. Coralth certainly won't run after him, and we shall havenothing more to fear on that score."

  "Great heavens!" murmured Madame d'Argeles, "why did this idea neveroccur to me?"

  The baron had now completely recovered his composure. "As regardsyourself," said he, "the plan you ought to adopt is still more simple.What is your furniture worth? About a hundred thousand francs, isn't it?Very well, then. You will sign me notes, dated some time back, to theamount of a hundred thousand francs. On the day these notes fall due,on Monday, for instance, they will be presented for payment. You willrefuse to pay them. A writ will be served, and an attachment placedupon your furniture; but you will offer no resistance. I don't know if Iexplain my meaning very clearly."

  "Oh, very clearly!"

  "So your property is seized. You make no opposition, and next week weshall have flaming posters on all the walls, telling Paris that thefurniture, wardrobe, cashmeres, laces, and diamonds of Madame Liad'Argeles will be sold without reserve, at public auction, in the RueDrouot, with the view of satisfying the claims of her creditors. Youcan imagine the sensation this announcement will create. I can see yourfriends and the frequenters of your drawing-room meeting one another inthe street, and saying: 'Ah, well! what's this about poor d'Argeles?''Pshaw!--no doubt it's a voluntary sale.' 'Not at all; she's reallyruined. Everything is mortgaged above its value.' 'Indeed, I'm verysorry to hear it. She was a good creature.' 'Oh, excellent; a deal ofamusement could be found at her house,--only between you and me----''Well?' 'Well, she was no longer young.' 'That's true. However, Ishall attend the sale, and I think I shall bid.' And, in fact, youracquaintances won't fail to repair to the Hotel Drouot, and maybe yourmost intimate friends will yield to their generous impulses sufficientlyto offer twenty sous for one of the dainty trifles on your etageres."

  Overcome with shame, Madame d'Argeles hung her head. She had neverbefore so keenly felt the disgrace of her situation. She had neverso clearly realized what a deep abyss she had fallen into. Andthis crushing humiliation came from whom? From the only friend shepossessed--from the man who was her only hope, Baron Trigault.

  And what made it all the more frightful was, that he did not seem to bein the least degree conscious of the cruelty of his words. Indeed,he continued, in a tone of bitter irony: "Of course, you will havean exhibition before the sale, and you will see all the dolls thathairdressers, milliners and fools call great ladies, come running tothe show. They will come to see how a notorious woman lives, and toascertain if there are any good bargains to be had. This is theright form. These great ladies would be delighted to display diamondspurchased at the sale of a woman of the demi monde. Oh! don't fear--yourexhibition will be visited by my wife and daughter, by the Viscountessde Bois d'Ardon, by Madame de Rochecote, her five daughters, and a greatmany more. Then the papers will take up the refrain; they will give anaccount of your financial difficulties, and tell the public what youpaid for your pictures."

  It was with a sort of terror-stricken curiosity that Madame d'Argeleswatched the baron. It had been many years since she had seen him in sucha frame of mind--since she had heard him talk in such a cynical fashion."I am ready to follow your advice," said she, "but afterward?"

  "What, don't you understand the object I have in view? Afterward youwill disappear. I know five or six journalists; and it would be verystrange if I could not convince one of them that you had died upon anhospital pallet. It will furnish the subject of a touching, and whatis better, a moral article. The papers will say, 'Another star hasdisappeared. This is the miserable end of all the poor wretches whosepassing luxury scandalizes honest women.'"

  "And what will become of me?"

  "A respected woman, Lia. You will go to England, install yourself insome pretty cottage near London, and create a new identity for yourself.The proceeds of your sale will supply your wants and Wilkie's for morethan a year. Before that time has elapsed you will have succeeded inaccumulating the necessary proofs of your identity, and then you canassert your claims and take possession of your brother's estate."

  Madame d'Argeles sprang to her feet. "Never never!" she exclaimed,vehemently.

  The baron evidently thought he must have misunderstood her. "What!" hestammered; "you will relinquish the millions that are legally yours, tothe government?"

  "Yes--I am resolved--it must be so."

  "Will you sacrifice your son's future in this style?"

  "No, it isn't in my power to do that; but Wilkie will do so, later, on,I'm sure of it."

  "But this is simply folly."

  A feverish agitation had now succeeded Madame d'Argeles's torpor; therewas an expression of scorn and anger on her rigid features, and hereyes, usually so dull and lifeless, fairly blazed. "It is not folly,"she exclaimed, "but vengeance!" And as the astonished baron opened hislips to question her: "Let me finish," she said imperiously, "and thenyou shall judge me. I have told you with perfect frankness everythingconcerning my past life, save this--this--that I am married, Monsieurle Baron, legally married. I am bound by a chain that nothing can break,and my husband is a scoundrel. You would be frightened if you knew halfthe extent of his villainy. Oh! do not shake your head. I ought not tobe suspected of exaggeration when I speak in this style of a man whom Ionce loved so devotedly. For I loved him, alas!--even to madness--lovedhim so much that I forgot self, family, honor, and all the most sacredduties. I loved him so madly that I was willing to follow him, while hishands were still wet with my brother's blood. Ah! chastisement could notfail to come, and it was terrible, like the sin. This man for whom I hadabandoned everything--whom I had made my idol--do you know what he saidto me the third day after my flight from home? 'You must be more stupidthan an owl to have forgotten to take your jewels.' Yes, those were thevery words he said to me, with a furious air. And then I could measurethe depths of the abyss into which I had plunged. This man, with whom Ihad been so infatuated, did not love me at all, he had never loved me.It had only been cold ca
lculation on his part. He had devoted months tothe task of winning my heart, just as he would have devoted them tosome business transaction. He only saw in me the fortune that I wasto inherit. Oh! he didn't conceal it from me. 'If your parents are notmonsters,' he was always saying, 'they will finally become reconciled toour marriage. They will give you a handsome fortune and we will divideit. I will give you back your liberty, and then we can each of us behappy in our own way.' It was for this reason that he wished to marryme. I consented on account of my unborn child. My father and mother haddied, and he hoped to prevail upon me to claim my share of the paternalfortune. As for claiming it himself, he dared not. He was a coward, andhe was afraid of my brother. But I took a solemn oath that he shouldnever have a farthing of the wealth he coveted, and neither threats norBLOWS could compel me to assert my claim. God only knows how much I hadsuffered from his brutality when I at last succeeded in making my escapewith Wilkie. He has sought us everywhere for fifteen years, but he hasnot yet succeeded in finding a trace of us. Still he has not ceased towatch my brother. I am sure of that, my presentiments never deceive me.So, if I followed your advice--if I claimed possession of my brother'sfortune--my husband would instantly appear with our marriage contract inhis hands, and demand everything. Shall I enrich him? No, never, never!I would rather die of want! I would rather see Wilkie die of starvationbefore my very eyes!"

  Madame d'Argeles spoke in that tone of concentrated rage which betraysyears of repressed passion and unflinching resolution. One couldscarcely hope to modify her views even by the wisest and most practicaladvice. The baron did not even think of attempting to do so. He hadknown Madame d'Argeles for years; he had seen so many proofs of herinvincible energy and determination. She possessed the distinguishingcharacteristic of her family in a remarkable degree--that proverbialChalusse obstinacy which Madame Vantrasson had alluded to in herconversation with M. Fortunat.

  She was silent for a moment, and then, in a firm tone she said: "Still,I will follow your advice in part, baron. This evening I will writeto M. Patterson and request him to send for Wilkie. In less than afortnight I shall have sold my furniture and disappeared. I shall remainpoor. My fortune is not so large as people suppose. No matter. My son isa man; he must learn to earn his own living."

  "My banking account is always at your disposal, Lia."

  "Thanks, my friend, thanks a thousand times; but it will not benecessary for me to accept your kind offer. When Wilkie was a child Idid not refuse. But now I would dig the ground with my own hands,rather than give him a louis that came from you. You think me full ofcontradictions! Perhaps I am. It is certain that I am no longer what Iwas yesterday. This trouble has torn away the bandage that covered myeyes. I can see my conduct clearly now, and I condemn it. I sinned formy son's sake, more than for my own. But I might have rehabilitatedmyself through him, and now he will perhaps be dishonored through me."Her breathing came short and hard, and it was in a choked voice that shecontinued: "Wilkie shall work for me and for himself. If he is strong,he will save us. If he is weak--ah, well! we shall perish. But therehas been cowardice and shame enough! It shall never be said that Isacrificed the honor of a noble name and the happiness of my brother'schild to my son. I see what my duty is, and I shall do it."

  The baron nodded approvingly. "That's no doubt right," said he. "Onlyallow me to tell you that all is not lost yet. The code has a weapon forevery just cause. Perhaps there will be a way for you to obtain and holdyour fortune independent of your husband."

  "Alas! I made inquiries on the subject years ago, and I was told thatit would be impossible. Still, you might investigate the matter. I haveconfidence in you. I know that you would not advise me rashly;--butdon't delay. The worst misfortune would be less intolerable than thissuspense."

  "I will lose no time. M. Ferailleur is a very clever lawyer, I am told.I will consult him."

  "And what shall I do about this man Fortunat, who called upon me?"

  The baron reflected for a moment. "The safest thing would be to take noaction whatever at present," he replied. "If he has any evil designs, avisit or a letter from you would only hasten them."

  By the way Madame d'Argeles shook her head, it was easy to see that shehad very little hope. "All this will end badly," she murmured.

  The baron shared her opinion, but he did not think it wise or kind todiscourage her. "Nonsense!" he said lightly, "luck is going to change;it is always changing."

  Then as he heard the clock strike, he sprang from his arm-chair indismay. "Two o'clock," he exclaimed, "and Kami-Bey is waiting for me.I certainly haven't been wasting time here, but I ought to have been atthe Grand Hotel at noon. Kami is quite capable of suspecting a man ofany knavery. These Turks are strange creatures. It's true that I amnow a winner to the tune of two hundred and eighty thousand francs."He settled his hat firmly on his head, and opening the door, he added:"Good-by, my dear madame, I will soon see you again, and in the meantimedon't deviate in the least from your usual habits. Our success depends,in a great measure, upon the fancied security of our enemies!"

  Madame d'Argeles considered this advice so sensible that half an hourlater she went out for her daily drive in the Bois, little suspectingthat M. Fortunat's spy, Victor Chupin, was dogging her carriage. It wasmost imprudent on her part to have gone to Wilkie's house on her return.She incurred such a risk of awakening suspicion by wandering aboutnear her son's home that she seldom allowed herself that pleasure, butsometimes her anxiety overpowered her reason. So, on this occasion, sheordered the coachman to stop near the Rue du Helder, and she reached thestreet just in time to betray her secret to Victor Chupin, and receive afoul insult from M. Wilkie. The latter's cruel words stabbed her to theheart, and yet she tried to construe them as mere proofs of her son'shonesty of feeling--as proof of his scorn for the depraved creatureswho haunt the boulevards each evening. But though her energy wasindomitable, her physical strength was not equal to her will. Onreturning home, she felt so ill that she was obliged to go to bed. Sheshivered with cold, and yet the blood that flowed in her veins seemed toher like molten lead. The physician who was summoned declared that herillness was a mere trifle, but prescribed rest and quiet. And as he wasa very discerning man, he added, not without a malicious smile, that anyexcess is injurious--excess of pleasure as well as any other. As itwas Sunday, Madame d'Argeles was able to obey the physician, and so sheclosed her doors against every one, the baron excepted. Still, fearingthat this seclusion might seem a little strange, she ordered herconcierge to tell any visitors that she had gone into the country,and would not return until her usual reception-day. She would then becompelled to open her doors as usual. For what would the habitues of thehouse, who had played there every Monday for years, say if they foundthe doors closed? She was less her own mistress than an actress--she hadno right to weep or suffer in solitude.

  So, at about seven o'clock on Monday evening, although still grievouslysuffering both in mind and body, she arranged herself to receive herguests. From among all her dresses, she chose the same dark robe she hadworn on the night when Pascal Ferailleur was ruined at her house; andas she was even paler than usual, she tried to conceal the fact by aprodigal use of rouge. At ten o'clock, when the first arrivals enteredthe brilliantly lighted rooms, they found her seated as usual on thesofa, near the fire, with the same eternal, unchangeable smile upon herlips. There were at least forty persons in the room, and the gamblinghad become quite animated when the baron entered. Madame d'Argeles readin his eyes that he was the bearer of good news. "Everything is goingon well," he whispered, as he shook hands with her. "I have seen M.Ferailleur--I wouldn't give ten sous for Valorsay's and Coralth'schances."

  This intelligence revived Madame d'Argeles's drooping spirits, and shereceived M. de Coralth with perfect composure when he came to pay hisrespects to her soon afterward. For he had the impudence to come, inorder to dispel any suspicions that might have been aroused anent hiscomplicity in the card-cheating affair. The hostess's calmness amazedhim. Was she still ig
norant of her brother's death and the complicationsarising from it, or was she only acting a part? He was so anxious andundecided, that instead of mingling with the groups of talkers, heat once took a seat at the card-table, whence he could watch the poorwoman's every movement.

  Both rooms were full, and almost everybody was engaged in play, when,shortly after midnight, a servant entered the room, whispered a fewwords in his mistress's ear, and handed her a card. She took it, glancedat it, and uttered so harsh, so terrible, so heart-broken a cry, thatseveral of the guests sprang to their feet. "What is it? What is it?"they asked. She tried to reply, but could not. Her lips parted, sheopened her mouth, but no sound came forth. She turned ghastly whiteunder her rouge, and a wild, unnatural light gleamed in her eyes. Onecurious guest, without a thought of harm, tried to take the card, whichshe still held in her clinched hand; but she repulsed him with such animperious gesture that he recoiled in terror. "What is it? What is thematter with her?" was the astonished query on every side.

  At last, with a terrible effort, she managed to reply, "Nothing." Andthen, after clinging for a moment to the mantel-shelf, in order tosteady herself, she tottered out of the room.