He had arrived at the desired spot; how should he set to work toobtain the information that he required? The evening was a dark one,and the gas-lamps showed a feeble light through the dull February fog.
There were no signs of life in the Rue de Matignon, and the silencewas only broken by the continuous surge of carriage wheels in theFaubourg Saint Honore. This gloom, and the inclemency of the weather,added to the young painter's depression. He saw his utterhelplessness, and felt that he could not move a step withoutcompromising the woman he so madly adored. He walked to the gate ofthe house, hoping to gain some information even from the exterioraspect of the house; for it seemed to him that if Sabine were dying,the very stones in the street would utter sounds of woe andlamentation; but the fog had closely enwrapped the house, and he couldhardly see which of the windows were lighted. His reasoning facultiestold him that there was no use in waiting, but an inner voice warnedhim to stay. Would Modeste, who had written to him, divine, by somemeans that he was there, in an agony of suspense, and come out to givehim information and solace? All at once a thought darted across hismind, vivid as a flash of lightning.
"M. de Breulh will help me," cried he; "for though I cannot go to thehouse, he will have no difficulty in doing so."By good luck, he had M. de Breulh's card in his pocket, and hurriedoff to his address. M. de Breulh had a fine house in the Avenue del'Imperatrice, which he had taken more for the commodiousness of thestables than for his own convenience.
"I wish to see M. de Breulh," said Andre, as he stopped breathless atthe door, where a couple of footmen were chatting.
The men looked at him with supreme contempt. "He is out," one of themat last condescended to reply.
Andre had by this time recovered his coolness, and taking out DeBreulh's card, wrote these words on it in pencil: "One moment'sinterview. ANDRE.""Give this to your master as soon as he comes in," said he.
Then he descended the steps slowly. He was certain that M. de Breulhwas in the house, and that he would send out after the person who hadleft the card almost at once. His conclusion proved right; in fiveminutes he was overtaken by the panting lackey, who, conducting himback to the house, showed him into a magnificently furnished library.
De Breulh feared that some terrible event had taken place.
"What has happened?" said he.
"Sabine is dying;" and Andre at once proceeded to inform De Breulh ofwhat had happened since his departure.
"But how can I help you?""You can go and make inquiries at the house.""Reflect; yesterday I wrote to the Count, and broke off a marriage,the preliminaries of which had been completely settled; and withintwenty-four hours to send and inquire after his daughter's healthwould be to be guilty of an act of inexcusable insolence; for it wouldlook as if I fancied that Mademoiselle de Mussidan had been struckdown by my rupture of the engagement.""You are right," murmured Andre dejectedly.
"But," continued De Breulh, after a moment's reflection, "I have adistant relative, a lady who is also a connection of the Mussidanfamily, the Viscountess de Bois Arden, and she will be glad to be ofservice to me. She is young and giddy, but as true as steel. Come withme to her; my carriage is ready."The footman were surprised at seeing their master on such terms ofintimacy with the shabbily dressed young man, but ventured, of course,on no remarks.
Not a word was exchanged during the brief drive to Madame de BoisArden's house.
"Wait for me," exclaimed De Breulh, springing from the vehicle as soonas it drew up; "I will be back directly."Madame de Bois Arden is justly called one of the handsomest women inParis. Very fair, with masses of black hair, and a complexion to whichart has united itself to the gifts of nature, she is a woman who hasbeen everywhere, knows everything, talks incessantly, and generallyvery well. She spends forty thousand francs per annum on dress. She isalways committing all sorts of imprudent acts, and scandal is everbusy with her name. Half a dozen of the opposite sex have been talkedof in connection with her, while in reality she is a true and faithfulwife, for, in spite of all her frivolity, she adores her husband, andis in great awe of him. Such was the character of the lady into whoseapartment M. de Breulh was introduced. Madame de Bois Arden wasengaged in admiring a very pretty fancy costume of the reign of LouisXV., one of Van Klopen's masterpieces, when M. de Breulh wasannounced, which she was going to wear, on her return from the opera,at a masquerade ball at the Austrian Ambassador's. Madame de BoisArden greeted her visitor with effusion, for they had beenacquaintances from childhood, and always addressed each other by theirChristian names.
"What, you here at this hour, Gontran!" said the lady. "Is it avision, or only a miracle?" But the smile died away upon her lips, asshe caught a glimpse of her visitor's pale and harassed face. "Isthere anything the matter?" asked she.
"Not yet," answered he, "but there may be, for I hear thatMademoiselle de Mussidan is dangerously ill.""Is she really? Poor Sabine! what is the matter with her?""I do not know; and I want you, Clotilde, to send one of your peopleto inquire into the truth of what we have heard."Madame de Bois Arden opened her eyes very wide.
"Are you joking?" said she. "Why do you not send yourself?""It is impossible for me to do so; and if you have any kindness ofheart, you do as I ask you; and I want you also to promise me not tosay a word of this to any one."Excited as she was by this mystery, Madame de Bois Arden did not askanother question.
"I will do exactly what you want," replied she, "and respect yoursecret. I would go at once, were it not that Bois Arden will never sitdown to dinner without me; but the moment we have finished I will go.""Thanks, a thousand times; and now I will go home and wait for newsfrom you.""Not at all,--you will remain here to dinner.""I must,--I have a friend waiting for me.""Do as you please, then," returned the Viscountess, laughing. "I willsend round a note this evening."De Breulh pressed her hand, and hurried down, and was met by Andre atthe door, for he had been unable to sit still in the carriage.
"Keep up your courage. Madame de Bois Arden had not heard ofMademoiselle Sabine's illness, and this looks as if it was not a veryserious matter. We shall have the real facts in three hours.""Three hours!" groaned Andre, "what a lapse of time!""It is rather long, I admit; but we will talk of her while we wait,for you must stay and dine with me."Andre yielded, for he had no longer the energy to contest anything.
The dinner was exquisite, but the two men were not in a condition ofmind to enjoy it, and scarcely consumed anything. Vainly did theyendeavor to speak on indifferent subjects, and when the coffee hadbeen served in the library, they relapsed into utter silence. As theclock struck ten, however, a knock was heard at the door, thenwhisperings, and the rustle of female attire, and lastly Madame deBois Arden burst upon them like a tornado.
"Here I am," cried she.
It was certainly rather a hazardous step to pay such a late visit to abachelor's house, but then the Viscountess de Bois Arden did exactlyas she pleased.
"I have come here, Gontran," exclaimed she, with extreme vehemence,"to tell you that I think your conduct is abominable andungentlemanly.""Clotilde!""Hold your tongue! you are a wretch! Ah! now I can see why you did notwish to write and inquire about poor Sabine. You well knew the effectthat your message would have on her."M. de Breulh smiled as he turned to Andre and said,--"You see that I was right in what I told you."This remark for the first time attracted Madame de Bois Arden'sattention to the fact that a stranger was present, and she trembledlest she had committed some grave indiscretion.
"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed she, with a start, "why, I thought thatwe were alone!""This gentleman has all my confidence," replied M. de Breulhseriously; and as he spoke he laid his hand upon Andre's shoulder.
"Permit me to introduce M. Andre to you, my dear Clotilde; he may notbe known to-day, but in a short time his reputation will be European."Andre bowed, but for once in her life the Viscountess feltembarrassed, for she was surprised at the extremely shabby attire ofthis confidential friend, and then there seemed something wanting tothe name.
"Then," resumed De Breulh, "Mademoiselle de Mussidan is really ill,and our information is correct.""She is.""Did you see her?""I did, Gontran; and had you seen her, your heart would have beenfilled with pity, and you would have repented your conduct toward her.
The poor girl did not even know me. She lay in her bed, whiter thanthe very sheets, cold and inanimate as a figure of marble. Her largeblack eyes were staring wildly, and the only sign of life sheexhibited was when the great tears coursed down her cheeks."Andre had determined to restrain every token of emotion in thepresence of the Viscountess, but her recital was too much for him.
"Ah!" said he, "she will die; I know it."There was such intense anguish in his tone that even the practisedwoman of the world was softened.
"I assure you, sir," said she, "that you go too far; there is nopresent danger; the doctors say it is catalepsy, which often attackspersons of a nervous temperament upon the receipt of a sudden mentalshock.""But what shock has she received?" asked Andre.
"No one told me," answered she after a short pause, "that Sabine'sillness was caused by the breaking off of her engagement; but, ofcourse, I supposed that it was.""That was not the reason, Clotilde; but you have told us nothing;pray, go on," interposed De Breulh.
The extreme calmness of her cousin, and a glance which she observedpassing between him and Andre, enlightened the Viscountess somewhat.
"I asked as much as I dared," she replied, "but I could only get thevaguest answers. Sabine looked as if she were dead, and her father andmother hovered around her couch like two spectres. Had they slain herwith their own hands, they could not have looked more guilty; theirfaces frightened me.""Tell me precisely what answers were given to your questions," brokein he impatiently.
"Sabine had seemed so agitated all day, that her mother asked her ifshe was suffering any pain.""We know that already.""Indeed!" replied the Viscountess, with a look of surprise. "It seems,cousin, that you saw Sabine that afternoon, but what became of herafterward no one appears to know; but there is positive proof that shedid not leave the house, and received no letters. At all events, itwas more than an hour after her maid saw her enter her own room.
Sabine said a few unintelligible words to the girl, who, seeing thepallor upon her mistress's face, ran up to her. Just as she did so,Sabine uttered a wild shriek, and fell to the ground. She was raisedup and laid upon the bed, but since then she has neither moved norspoken.""That is not all," said De Breulh, who had watched his cousin keenly.
The Viscountess started, and avoided meeting her cousin's eye.
"I do not understand," she faltered. "Why do you look at me likethat?"De Breulh, who had been pacing up and down the room, suddenly haltedin front of the Viscountess.
"My dear Clotilde," said he, "I am sure when I tell you that thetongue of scandal has often been busy with your name, I am telling younothing new.""Pooh!" answered the Viscountess. "What do I care for that?""But I always defended you. You are indiscreet--your presence heretonight shows this; but you are, after all, a true woman,--brave andtrue as steel.""What do you mean by this exordium, Gontran?""This, Clotilde,--I want to know if I dare venture to intrust to you asecret which involves the honor of two persons, and, perhaps, thelives of more.""Thank you, Gontran," answered she calmly. "You have formed a correctjudgment of me."But here Andre felt that he must interpose, and, taking a stepforward, said, "Have you the right to speak?""My dear Andre," said De Breulh, "this is a matter in which my honoris as much concerned as yours. Will you not trust me?" Then turning tothe Viscountess, he added, "Tell us all you heard.""It is only something I heard from Modeste. You had hardly left thehouse, when the Baron de Clinchain made his appearance.""An eccentric old fellow, a friend of the Count de Mussidan's. I knowhim.""Just so; well, they had a stormy interview, and at the end of it, theBaron was taken ill, and it was with difficulty that he regained hiscarriage.""That seems curious.""Wait a bit. After that Octave and his wife had a terrible scenetogether, and Modeste thinks that her mistress must have heardsomething, for the Count's voice rang through the house like thunder."Every word that the Viscountess uttered strengthened De Breulh'ssuspicions. "There is something mysterious in all this, Clotilde,"said he, "as you will say when you know the whole truth," and, withoutomitting a single detail, he related the whole of Sabine and Andre'slove story.
Madame de Bois Arden listened attentively, sometimes thrilled withhorror, and at others pleased with this tale of innocent love.
"Forgive me," said she, when her cousin had concluded; "my reproachesand accusations were equally unfounded.""Yes, yes; never mind that; but I am afraid that there is some hiddenmystery which will place a fresh stumbling-block in our friend Andre'spath.""Do not say that," cried Andre, in terror. "What is it?""That I cannot tell; for Mademoiselle de Mussidan's sake, I havewithdrawn all my pretensions to her hand,--not to leave the field opento any other intruder, but in order that she may be your wife.""How are we to learn what has really happened?" asked the Viscountess.
"In some way or other we shall find out, if you will be our ally."Most women are pleased to busy themselves about a marriage, and theViscountess was cheered to find herself mixed up in so romantic adrama.
"I am entirely at your beck and call," answered she. "Have you anyplan?""Not yet, but I will soon. As far as Mademoiselle de Mussidan isconcerned, we must act quite openly. Andre will write to her, askingfor an explanation, and you shall see her to-morrow, and if she iswell enough, give her his note."The proposal was a startling one, and the Viscountess did notentertain it favorably.
"No," said she, "I think that would not do at all.""Why not? However, let us leave it to Andre."Andre, thus addressed, stepped forward, and said,--"I do not think that it would be delicate to let Mademoiselle deMussidan know that her secret is known to any one else thanourselves."The Viscountess nodded assent.
"If," continued Andre, "the Viscountess will be good enough to askModeste to meet me at the corner of the Avenue de Matignon; I shall bethere.""A capital idea, sir," said the lady, "and I will give your message toModeste." She broke off her speech suddenly, and uttered a prettylittle shriek, as she noticed that the hands of the clock on themantelpiece pointed to twenty to twelve. "Great heavens!" cried she,"and I am going to a ball at the Austrian Embassy, and now not evendressed." And, with a coquettish gesture, she drew her shawl aroundher, and ran out of the room, exclaiming as she descended the stairs,"I will call here to-morrow, Gontran, on my way to the Bois," anddisappeared like lightning.
Andre and his host sat over the fire, and conversed for a long time.
It seemed strange that two men who had met that morning for the firsttime should now be on such intimate terms of friendship; but such wasthe case, for a mutual feeling of admiration and respect had sprung upin their hearts.
M. de Breulh wished to send Andre home in his carriage, but this theyoung man declined, and merely borrowed an overcoat to protect himfrom the inclemency of the weather.
"To-morrow," said he, as he made his way home, "Modeste shall tell allshe knows, provided always that that charming society dame does notforget all about our existence before then."Madame de Bois Arden, however, could sometimes be really in earnest.
Upon her return from the ball she would not even go to bed, lest sheshould oversleep herself, and the next day Andre found Modeste waitingat the appointed spot, and learnt, to his great grief, that Sabine hadnot yet regained consciousness.
The family doctor betrayed no uneasiness, but expressed a wish for aconsultation with another medical man. Meanwhile, the girl promised tomeet Andre morning and evening in the same place, and give him suchscraps of information as she had been able to pick up. For two wholedays Mademoiselle de Mussidan's condition remained unchanged, andAndre spent his whole time between his own studio, the Avenue deMatignon, and M. de Breulh's, where he frequently met Madame de BoisArden.
But on the third day Modest informed him, with tears in her eyes, thatthough the cataleptic fit had passed away, Sabine was struggling witha severe attack of fever. Modeste and Andre were so interested intheir conversation, that they did not perceive Florestan, who had goneout to post a letter to Mascarin.
"Listen, Modeste," whispered Andre, "you tell me that she is indanger,--very great danger.""The doctor said that the crisis would take place to-day; be here atfive this evening."Andre staggered like a madman to De Breulh's house; and so excited washe that his friend insisted upon his taking some repose, and wouldnot, when five o'clock arrived, permit Andre to go to the appointmentalone. As they turned the corner, they saw Modeste hurrying towardthem.
"She is saved, she is saved!" said she, "for she has fallen into atranquil sleep, and the doctor says that she will recover."Andre and De Breulh were transported by this news; but they did notknow that they were watched by two men, Mascarin and Florestan, whodid not let one of their movements escape them. Warned by a brief notefrom Florestan, Mascarin had driven swiftly to Father Canon's public-house, where he thought he was certain to find the domestic, but theman was not there, and Mascarin, unable to endure further suspense,sent for him to the Hotel de Mussidan. When the servant informedMascarin that the crisis was safely passed, he drew a deep breath ofrelief; for he no longer feared that the frail structure that he hadbuilt up with such patient care for twenty long years would beshattered at a blow by the chill hand of death. He bent his brow,however, when he heard of Modeste's daily interviews with the youngman whom Florestan termed "Mademoiselle's lover.""Ah," muttered he, "if I could only be present at one of thoseinterviews!""And, as you say," returned Florestan, drawing out, as he spoke, aneat-looking watch, "it is just the hour of their meeting; and as theplace is always the same, you--""Come, then," broke in his patron. They went out accordingly, andreached the Champs Elysees by a circuitous route. The place wasadmirably suited to their purpose, for close by were several of thoselittle wooden huts, occupied in summer by the vendors of cakes andplaythings.
"Let us get behind one of these," said Florestan. Night was drawingin, but objects could still be distinguished, and in about fiveminutes Florestan whispered, "Look, there comes Modeste, and there isthe lover, but he has a pal with him to-night. Why, what can she betelling him? He seems quite overcome."Mascarin divined the truth at once, and found that it would be adifficult task to interfere with the love of a man who displayed somuch intensity of feeling.
"Then," remarked Mascarin, savagely, "that great booby, staggeringabout on his friend's arm, is your young lady's lover?""Just so, sir.""Then we must find out who he is."Florestan put on a crafty air, and replied in gentle accents.
"The day before yesterday, as I was smoking my pipe outside, I sawthis young bantam swaggering down the street--not but what he seemedrather crestfallen; but I knew the reason for that, and should lookjust as much in the dumps if my young woman was laid up. I thought, asI had nothing to do, I might as well see who he was and where helived; so, sticking my hands in my pockets, after him I sloped. Hewalked such a long way, that I got precious sick of my job, but atlast I ran him to earth in a house. I went straight up to the lodge,and showed the portress my tobacco pouch, and said, 'I picked up this;I think that the gentleman who has just gone in dropped it. Do youknow him?' 'Of course I do,' said she. 'He is a painter; lives on thefourth floor; and his name is M. Andre.' ""Was the house in the Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne?" broke in Mascarin.
"You are right, sir," returned the man, taken a little aback. "Itseems, sir, that you are better informed than I am."Mascarin did not notice the man's surprise, but he was struck with thestrange persistency with which this young man seemed to cross hisplans, for he found that the acquaintance of Rose and the lover ofMademoiselle de Mussidan were one and the same person, and he had apresentiment that he would in some way prove a hindrance to his plans.
The astute Mascarin concentrated all his attention upon Andre.
The latter said something to Modeste, which caused that young woman toraise her hands to heaven, as though in alarm.
"But who is the other?" asked he,--"the fellow that looks like anEnglishman?""Do you not know?" returned the lackey. "Why, that is M. de Breulh-Faverlay.""What, the man who was to marry Sabine?""Certainly."Mascarin was not easily disconcerted, but this time a blasphemous oathburst from his lips.
"Do you mean," said he, "that De Breulh and this painter are friends?""That is more than I can tell. You seem to want to know a lot,"answered Florestan, sulkily.
Modeste had now left the young men, who walked arm in arm in thedirection of the Avenue de l'Imperatrice.
"M. de Breulh takes his dismissal easily enough," observed Mascarin.
"He was not dismissed; it was he that wrote and broke off theengagement."This time Mascarin contrived to conceal the terrible blow that thisinformation caused to him, and even made some jesting remark as hetook leave of Florestan; but he was in truth completely staggered, forafter thoroughly believing that the game was won, he saw that, thoughperhaps not lost, his victory was postponed for an indefinite period.
"What!" said he, as he clenched his hand firmly, "shall the headstrongpassion of this foolish boy mar my plans? Let him take care ofhimself; for if he walks in my path, he will find it a road that leadsto his own destruction."
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