At the age of twenty-five Henry de Croisenois affected the airs andmanners of a lad of twenty, and so found many who looked upon hisescapades with lenient eyes, ascribing them to the follies of youth.
Under this youthful mask, however he concealed a most astute andcunning intellect, and had more than once got the better of the womenwith whom he had had dealings. His fortune was terribly involved,because he had insisted on living at the same rate as men who had tentimes his income. Forming one of the recklessly extravagant band ofwhich the Duke de Saumeine was the head, Croisenois, too, kept hisracehorses, which was certainly the quickest way to wreck the mostprincely fortune. The Marquis had found out this, and was utterlyinvolved, when Mascarin extended a helping hand to him, to which heclung with all the energy of a drowning man.
Whatever Henry de Croisenois' anxieties may have been on the day inquestion, he did not allow a symptom of them to appear, and on hisentrance negligently drawled, "I have kept you waiting, I fear; butreally my time is not my own. I am quite at your service now, and willwait until these gentlemen have finished their business with you." Andas he concluded, he again placed the cigar which he had removed whilesaying these words, to his lips.
His manner was very insolent, and yet the amiable Mascarin did notseem offended, although he loathed the scent of tobacco.
"We had begun to despair of seeing you, Marquis," answered hepolitely. "I say so, because these gentlemen are here to meet you.
Permit me to introduce to you, Dr. Hortebise, M. Catenac of theParisian bar, and our secretary," pointing as he spoke, to Paul.
As soon as Croisenois had taken his seat, Mascarin went straight tothe point, as a bullet to the target. "I do not intend," began he, "toleave you in doubt for a moment. Beatings about the bush would beabsurd among persons like ourselves."At finding himself thus classed with the other persons present, theMarquis gave a little start, and then drawled out, "You flatter me,really.""I may tell you, Marquis," resumed Mascarin, "that your marriage hasbeen definitely arranged by myself and my associates. All you have todo is to get the young lady's consent; for that of the Count andCountess has already been secured.""There will be no difficulty in that," lisped the Marquis. "I willpromise her the best horsed carriage in the Bois, a box at the opera,unlimited credit at Van Klopen's, and perfect freedom. There will beno difficulty, I assure you. Of course, however, I must be presentedby some one who holds a good position in society.""Would the Viscountess de Bois Arden suit you?""No one better; she is a relation of the Count de Mussidan.""Good; then when you wish, Madame de Bois Arden will introduce you asa suitor for the young lady's hand, and praise you up to the skies."The Marquis looked very jubilant at hearing this. "All right," criedhe; "then that decides the matter."Paul wondered whether he was awake or dreaming. He too had beenpromised a rich wife, and here was another man who was being providedfor in the same manner. "These people," muttered he, "seem to keep amatrimonial agency as well as a servants' registry office!""All that is left, then," said the Marquis, "is to arrange the--shallI call it the commission?""I was about to come to that," returned Mascarin.
"Well, I will give you a fourth of the dowry, and on the day of mymarriage will hand you a cheque for that amount."Paul now imagined that he saw how matters worked. "If I marry Flavia,"thought he, "I shall have to share her dowry with these highlyrespectable gentlemen."The offer made by the Marquis did not, however, seem to pleaseMascarin. "That is not what we want," said he.
"No,--well, must I give you more? Say how much."Mascarin shook his head.
"Well then, I will give you a third; it is not worth while to give youmore.""No, no; I would not take half, nor even the whole of the dowry. Youmay keep that as well as what you owe us.""Well, but tell me what you /do/ want.""I will do so," answered Mascarin, adjusting his spectacles carefully;"but before doing so, I feel that I must give you a short account ofthe rise and progress of this association."At this statement Hortebise and Catenac sprang to their feet insurprise and terror. "Are you mad?" said they at length, with onevoice.
Mascarin shrugged his shoulders.
"Not yet," answered he gently, "and I beg that you will permit me togo on.""But surely we have some voice in the matter," faltered Catenac.
"That is enough," exclaimed Mascarin angrily, "Am not I the head ofthis association? Do you think," he continued in tones of deepsarcasm, "that we cannot speak openly before the Marquis?"Hortebise and the lawyer resignedly resumed their seats. Croisenoisthought that a word from him might reassure them.
"Among honest men--" began he.
"We are not honest men," interrupted Mascarin. "Sir," added he in asevere tone, "nor are you either."This plain speaking brought a bright flush to the face of the Marquis,who had half a mind to be angry, but policy restrained him, and heaffected to look on the matter as a joke. "Your joke is a littlepersonal," said he.
But Mascarin took no heed of his remark. "Listen to me," said he, "forwe have no time to waste, and do you," he added, turning to Paul, "paythe greatest attention."A moment of perfect silence ensued, broken only by the hum of voicesin the outer office.
"Marquis," said Mascarin, whose whole face blazed with a gleam ofconscious power, "twenty-five years ago I and my associates were youngand in a very different position. We were honest then, and all theillusions of youth were in full force; we had faith and hope. We allthen tenanted a wretched garret in the Rue de la Harpe, and loved eachother like brothers.""That was long, long ago," murmured Hortebise.
"Yes," rejoined Mascarin; "and yet the effluxion of times does nothinder me from seeing things as they then were, and my heart aches asI compare the hopes of those days with the realities of the present.
Then, Marquis, we were poor, miserably poor, and yet we all had vaguehopes of future greatness."Croisenois endeavored to conceal a sneer; the story was not a veryinteresting one.
"As I said before, each one of us anticipated a brilliant career.
Catenac had gained a prize by his 'Treatise on the Transfer of RealEstate,' and Hortebise had written a pamphlet regarding which thegreat Orfila had testified approval. Nor was I without my successes.
Hortebise had unluckily quarrelled with his family. Catenac'srelatives were poor, and I, well, I had no family. I stood alone. Wewere literally starving, and I was the only one earning money. Iprepared pupils for the military colleges, but as I only earnedtwenty-five sous a day by cramming a dull boy's brain with algebra andgeometry, that was not enough to feed us all. Well, to cut a longstory short, the day came when we had not a coin among us. I forgot totell you that I was devotedly attached to a young girl who was dyingof consumption, and who had neither food nor fuel. What could I do? Iknew not. Half mad, I rushed from the house, asking myself if I hadbetter plead for charity or take the money I required by force fromthe first passer-by. I wandered along the quays, half inclined toconfide my sorrow to the Seine, when suddenly I remembered it was aholiday at the Polytechnic School, and that if I went to the /CaféSemblon/ or the Palais Royal, I should most likely meet with some ofmy old pupils, who could perhaps lend me a few sous. Five francsperhaps, Marquis,--that is a very small sum, but in that day it meantthe life of my dear Marie and of my two friends. Have you ever beenhungry, M. de Croisenois?"De Croisenois started; he had never suffered from hunger, but howcould he tell what the future might bring? for his resources were sonearly exhausted, that even to-morrow he might be compelled to discardhis fictitious splendor and sink into the abyss of poverty.
"When I reached the /Café Semblon/," continued Mascarin, "I could notsee a single pupil, and the waiter to whom I addressed my inquirieslooked at me with the utmost contempt, for my clothes were in tatters;but at length he condescended to inform me that the young gentlemenhad been and gone, but that they would return. I said that I wouldwait for them. The man asked me if I would take anything, and when Ireplied in the negative, contemptuously pointed to a chair in adistant corner, where I patiently took my seat. I had sat for sometime, when suddenly a young man entered the /café/, whose face, were Ito live for a century, I shall never forget. He was perfectly livid,his features rigid, and his eyes wild and full of anguish. He wasevidently in intense agony of mind or body. Evidently, however, it wasnot poverty that was oppressing him, for as he cast himself upon asofa, all the waiters rushed forward to receive his orders. In a voicethat was almost unintelligible, he asked for a bottle of brandy, andpen, ink, and paper. In some mysterious manner, the sight of thissuffering brought balm to my aching heart. The order of the young manwas soon executed, and pouring out a tumbler of brandy, he took a deepdraught. The effect was instantaneous, he turned crimson, and for amoment almost fell back insensible. I kept my eyes on him, for a voicewithin me kept crying out that there was some mysterious linkconnecting this man and myself, and that his life was in some mannerinterwoven with mine, and that the influence he would exercise over mewould be for evil. So strongly did this idea become rooted, that Ishould have left the /café/, had not my curiosity been so great. Inthe meantime the stranger had recovered himself, and seizing a pen,scrawled a few lines on a sheet of paper. Evidently he was notsatisfied with his composition, for after reading it over, he lit amatch and burnt the paper. He drank more brandy, and wrote a secondletter, which, too, proved a failure, for he tore it to fragments,which he thrust into his waistcoat pocket. Again he commenced, usinggreater care. It was plain that he had forgotten where he was, for hegesticulated, uttered a broken sentence or two and evidently believedthat he was in his own house. His last letter seemed to satisfy him,and he recopied it with care. He closed and directed it; then, tearingthe original into pieces, he flung it under the table; then callingthe waiter, he said, 'Here are twenty francs; take this letter to theaddress on the envelope. Bring the answer to my house; here is mycard.' The man ran out of the room, and the nobleman, only waiting topay his bill, followed almost immediately. The morsels of white paperbeneath the table had a strange fascination for me; I longed to gatherthem up, to put them together, and to learn the secret of the strangedrama that had been acted before me. But, as I have told you, then Iwas honest and virtuous, and the meanness of such an act revolted allmy instincts; and I should have overcome this temptation, had it notbeen for one of those trifling incidents which too often form theturning-point of a life. A draught from a suddenly opened door caughtone of these morsels of paper, and wafted it to my feet. I stooped andpicked it up, and read on it the ominous words, 'blow out my brains!'
I had not been mistaken, then, and was face to face with some comingtragedy. Having once yielded, I made no further efforts at self-control. The waiters were running about; no one paid any attention tome; and creeping to the place that the unknown had occupied, Iobtained possession of two more scraps of paper. Upon one I read,'shame and horror!' upon the other, 'one hundred thousand francs byto-night.' The meaning of these few words were as clear as daylight tome; but for all that, I managed to collect every atom of the tornpaper, and piecing them together, read this:--" 'CHARLES,-- 'I must have one hundred thousand francs to-night,and you are the only one to whom I can apply. The shame and horrorof my position are too much for me. Can you send it me in twohours? As you act, so I regulate my conduct. I am either saved, orI blow out my brains.'
"You are probably surprised, Marquis, at the accuracy of my memory,and even now I can see this scrawl as distinctly as if it were beforeme. At the end of this scrawl was a signature, one of the best knowncommercial names, which, in common with other financial houses, wasstruggling against a panic on the Bourse. My discovery disturbed mevery much. I forgot all my miseries, and thought only of his. Were notour positions entirely similar? But by degrees a hideous temptationbegan to creep into my heart, and, as the minutes passed by, assumemore vivid color and more tangible reality. Why should I not profit bythis stolen secret? I went to the desk and asked for some wafers and aDirectory. Then, returning, I fastened the torn fragments upon a cleansheet of paper, discovered the address of the writer, and then leftthe /café/. The house was situated in the Rue Chaussee d'Autin. Forfully half an hour I paced up and down before his magnificentdwelling-place. Was he alive? Had the reply of Charles been in theaffirmative? I decided at last to venture, and rang the bell. Aliveried domestic appeared at my summons, and said that his master didnot receive visitors at that hour; besides, he was at dinner. I wasexasperated at the man's insolence, and replied hotly, 'If you want tosave your master from a terrible misfortune, go and tell him that aman has brought him the rough draft of the letter he wrote a littletime back at the /Café Semblon/.' The man obeyed me without a word, nodoubt impressed by the earnestness of my manner. My message must havecaused intense consternation, for in a moment the footman reappeared,and, in an obsequious manner, said, 'Follow at once, sir; my master iswaiting for you.' He led me into a large room, magnificently furnishedas a library, and in the centre of this room stood the man of the/Café Semblon/. His face was deadly pale, and his eyes blazed withfury. I was so agitated that I could hardly speak.
" 'You have picked up the scraps of paper I threw away?' exclaimed he.
"I nodded, and showed him the fragments fastened on to the sheet ofnote-paper.
" 'How much do you want for that?' asked he. 'I will give you athousand francs.'
"I declare to you, gentlemen, that up to this time I had no intentionof making money by the secret. My intention in going had been simplyto say, 'I bring you this paper, of which some one else might havetaken an undue advantage. I have done you a service; lend me a hundredfrancs.' This is what I meant to say, but his behavior irritated me,and I answered,--" 'No, I want two thousand francs.'
"He opened a drawer, drew out a bundle of banknotes, and threw them inmy face.
" 'Pay yourself, you villain!' said he.
"I can, I fear, never make you understand what I felt at thisundeserved insult. I was not myself, and Heaven knows that I was notresponsible for any crime that I might have committed in the frenzy ofthe moment, and I was nearly doing so. That man will, perhaps, neversee death so near him, save at his last hour. On his writing table layone of those Catalan daggers, which he evidently used as a paper-cutter. I snatched it up, and was about to strike, when therecollection of Marie dying of cold and starvation occurred to me. Idashed the knife to the ground, and rushed from the house in a statebordering on insanity. I went into that house an honest man, and leftit a degraded scoundrel. But I must finish. When I reached the street,the two banknotes which I had taken from the packet seemed to burn melike coals of fire. I hastened to a money-changer, and got coin forthem. I think, from my demeanor, he must have thought that I wasinsane. With my plunder weighing me down, I regained our wretchedgarret in the Rue de la Harpe. Catenac and Hortebise were waiting forme with the utmost anxiety. You remember that day, my friends.
Marquis, my story is especially intended for you. As soon as I enteredthe room, my friends ran up to me, delighted at seeing me return insafety, but I thrust them aside.
" 'Let me alone!' cried I; 'I am no longer fit to take an honest man'shand; but we have money, money!' And I threw the bags upon the table.
One of them burst, and a flood of silver coins rolled to every part ofthe room.
"Marie started from her chair with upraised hands. 'Money!' sherepeated, 'money! we shall have food, and I won't die.'
"My friends, Marquis, were not as they are now, and they started backin horror, fearing that I had committed some crime.
" 'No,' said I, 'I have committed no crime, not one, at least, thatwill bring me within the reach of the strong arm of the law. Thismoney is the price of our honor, but no one will know that fact butourselves.'
"Marquis, there was no sleeping in the garret all that night; but whendaylight peered through the broken windows, it beamed on a tablecovered with empty bottles, and round it were seated three men, who,having cast aside all honorable scruples, had sworn that they wouldarrive at wealth and prosperity by any means, no matter how foul andtreacherous they might be. That is all."
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