86
THE MYSTERIES OF PAEIS

occasion to speak no more of the vicomte, and to eon-
verse with M. de Saint Remy on a subject to whieh lie
attached much importance.
"Vou are ignorant, perhaps, Clothilde," said the
comte, "that for a long time past I have lived at
Angers?
"No—I knew it." "Notwithstanding the isolated
¦ state I sought, I had chosen this city, because one^of
my relations dwelt there, M de Fermont, who, during
luy troubles, acted as a btmher towards me, having
«icted as a second in a duel."
"Yes, a terrible duel; my father told me of it," said
Madame de Lucenay, sadly: "but, happily, Florestan
is ignorant of this duel, and also of the cause that led
toit,"
"1 was willing to let him respect his mother." an-
swered Uie comte, and, suppressing a sigh, he con-
tinued, iuu'i related to Madame de Lucenay the history
of Madame de Fermont up to the time of lier leaving
Angers for Taris, after the reception of the news of her
brother's suicide; to which he added, "At the end of
some time, 1 learned that the furniture of the house
which she occupied at Angers was sold hy her orders,
and that this sum had been employed to pay some
debts left hy Madame de Fermont. Uneasy at this cir-
cumstance, I inquired, and learned vaguely that this un-
fortunate woman and her daughter were in distress—
the victims, doubtless, of a bankruptcy. If Madame de
Fermont could, in such an extremity, count on any one,
it was on me. Yet I received no news from her. You
cannot imagine my sufferings—my inquietude. It was
absolutely necessary that 1 should find them, to know
why they did not apply to me, poor as I was. I set out
for Paris, leaving a person at Angers, who, if by chance
any information was obtained, was to advise me."
"Well?" "Yesterday I had a letter from Angers;
nothing was known. On arriving here I commenced
my researches. I went at first to the former residence
of the brother of Madame de Fermont. Here they told
me she lived at the 'quai' of the ' Canal Saint Mar-
tin/ "
"And this—~" "Had been her lodgings; but she
had left, and they were ignorant of hei" new abode.
Since then all my inquiries have been useless; and I
' liave come here, in hopes that she may have applied to
the son of her old friend. I am afraid that even this
will be in vain."
For some minutes Madame de Lucenay had listened
to the comte with redoubled attention ; suddenly she
said, " Truly, this would be singular, that these should
be the same with-those Madame d'Harville is so much
interested for." "Who?" asked the comte. "The
widow of whom you speak is still young? and of a
noble figure?" "She is so! but how do you know?"
"Her daughter handsome as an angel, and about six-
teen!?"   "Yes! yes!"   "And is named Claire?"
"Oh! in mercy, speak ! where are they?" "Alas! I
know not." " You do not know?" " This is what has
happened: a lady of my acquaintance, Madame d'Har-
ville, came to me to ask if 1 knew a widow who had a
daughter named Claire, and whose brother had com-
mitted suicide. Madame d'Harville came to me be-
cause she had seen these words, ' Write to-Madame de
Lucena;/.' traced on the fragment of a letter which this
unhappy woman had written to a person unknown,
whose aid she entreated." "She intended to write to
yon!' and why?" " lam ignorant; I do not know her."
•' But she knew you !" cried M. de Saint Remy, struck
¦with a sudden idea. "What do you say?" "A hun-
dred times she has heard me speak of your father, of
you, of vour generous and excellent heart. In her
trouble, she must have thought of you." "This can
be thus explained." "And Madame d'Harville, how
did she get possession of this letter?"
" I am ignorant; all I know is, that, without know-
ing where this poor mother and child had taken re-
fuge, she was, I believe, on their track." "Then I
count upon you, Clothilde, to introduce me to Madame
d'Harville; t must see her to-day." "impossible! her
husband has just fallen a victim to a frightful acci-
dent; a gun, which he did not know was loaded, went
off while in his hands, and killed him on the spot." ;
"'Ah! this is horrible!"    "The marquise departed im- I
dame de Fermont, wishing to neglect no means to And
her.    Now adieu."
"Ah! you are without pity 1" "Do you not know?"
"I know that your son has never had more need of
your counsels.''
" How?   Is he not rich, happy?"
" Yes, but he does nor know mankind. Blindly prodi-
gal, because he is confiding and generous; in every-
thing, everywhere, and always 'grand seigneur/ I
fear he is abused. If yon knew what a noble-heart he
has! 1 have never darê d to loci ure him on the subject
of his expenses and extravagance ; in the first place
because lam at leastas foolish as he is; and then—
for   other   reasons;   but you,  on the   contrary,  you
could-----" Madame de Lucenay did  not finish";   sud-
denly'she heard the voice of FlotV'stan de Saint Remy,
He entered precipitately into the cabinet adjoining the
saloon; after having quickly shut the door, he said in
an agitated voice, to some one who accompanied him,
"But it is impossible!" "But I repeat to you," an-
swered the clear and piercing voice of M. Badinot. "I
repeat to you, that, without this, in four hours you will
be arrested. For if he has not this money, ©ur man
will go and make a complaint to the ' procureur du roi,'
and you know the penalty of a forgery like this; the
galleys, my poor vicomte!1 It is impossible to describe
the look 'vhich Madame de Lucenay and the father
of Florestan exchange on hearing these terrible words.
Chapter IX.—-The Conversation.
On hearing these fearful words addressed to his son
by M. Badinot, the comte change color, and clung to a j
chair for support.   His venerable and respected name
dishonored by a man whom he had reason to doubt was
his son!   His first feeling overcome, the angry looks of \
the old man, and a threatening gesture which he made ;
as he advanced towards the cabinet, revealed a résolu- ;
tion so alarming, that Madame de Lucenay caught him
by the hand, stopped him, and said, in a low tone, with <
the most profound conviction, " He is innocent; I swear ;
to you!   Listen in silence."
The comte stood still ; he wished to believe what tlie !
duchesse had said was true.
She, on her part, was persuaded of his honesty.   To !
obtain new sacrifices from this woman, so blindly gen- >
erous—sacrifices which alone had saved him from the
threats of Jacques Ferrand—the vicomte had sworn to ;
Madame de Lucenay, that, dupe of a scoundrel from '-
whom he had received in payment the forged draft,
he ran the risk of being regarded as an accomplice of
the forger, having himself put it in circulation.
Madame de Lucenay knew that the vicomte was im-
prudent, prodigal, and careless; but never for a mo-
ment had she supposed him capable of an infamous
action, not even the slightest indiscretion.
By twice lending him considerable sums under very
peculiar circumstances, she had wished to render him
a friendly service, the vicomte only accepting this
money on the express condition of returning it; for j
there was due to him, he said, more than twice this
amount.
His apparent luxurious manner of living allowed tier :
to believe it. Besides, Madame de Lucenay, yielding \
to her natural kind impulses, had only thought of being j
useful to Florestan, without any care whether he could j
repay or not. He affirmed it, and she did not doubt.
In answering for the honor of the vicomte, in supplicat- ¦
ing the old comte to listen to the conversation of his
son. the duchesse thought that he was going to speak j
of the abuse of confidence, of which he had been a !
victim, and that he would be thus entirely exculpated j
in the eyes of his father.
"Once more," continued Florestan, in an agitated j
voice, "I say this Petit Jean is a scoundrel; he assured
me that he had no other bills than those I withdrew <
yesterday, and three days ago. I thought this one was
in circulation: it was only payable after three months,
at Adams & Co., London."" " Yes, yes," said the clear
and sharp voice of Baudinot. "I know, my dear
Vicomte, that you have adroitly managed your affaire;
your forgeries"were not to be discovered until you were
far away. But you have been caught by those more
cunning than yourself. "
"Ah! it is very well to tell me this now, wretch that
mediately, to pass her first mourning &t her father's in jyou arer>, crjed- Florestan. furiously:   "did you not
Normandy/];   "Clothilde, I conjure you to write to her j yourself introduce this person to me, who lias nego:
to-day; ask for whatever information she may possess;
since she interests herself for these poor women, tell
lier he cannot have a warmer auxiliary than me; my
sole desire is to find the widow of my friend, and to
partake with her and her daughter the little I possess.
It is now my sole family." " Always the same—always
generous aud devoted! Count on .ne, I will write to-
day to Madame d'Harville. Where shall I send her
answer?"   " To Asnières, ' poste restante.' "
,'* What eccentricity? why do you lodge there and not
at Paris." " I hate Paris, oil account of the 'souvenirs '
it,a wakens," answered M. de Saint Remy, withagloomy
air; " my old physician, Dr. Griffin, has a small coun-
try-house on the banks of the Seine, near Asnières; he
tinted the drafts?" "Come, my dear aristocrat,
answered Baudinot, coldly, "he calm! You are very
skilful in counterfeiting commercial signatures; it is
really wonderful; but that is no reason why you should
treat your friends with disagreeable familiarity. If
you gô on in this way—I leave you, arrange as you
please."         «
" Do you think one can preserve their ' sang froid1 in
such a position? If what you tell me is true—if this
complaint is lodged against me to-day. 1 am lost." "It
is exactly as I tell you, unless you .should have recourse
again to your charming Providwtèe with blue eyes."
" That is impossible." " Then be resigned. It is a pity
it was the last draft—and for twenty-five thousand
does not live there in winter, and offered it to me; it is al| francs t0 ^0 and take the air of the south at
almost a faubourg of Pans; I could alter my re- Tou_on*~itis ridiculous, absurd, stupid. How could a.
searches, find there the solitude which pleases rae; I   ouimil,s ,„an like you suffer yourself to be thus cor-
I nered'""'
have accepted." "I will write you, then, at Asnières; I
can.besides, give you now some information which may
perhaps serve you, which I received from Madame
d'Harville. The ruin of Madame Fermont has been
caused by the roguery of the notary who had the
charge of all her fortune.   He denies the deposit."
" The scoundrel! and what is his name?"
"M.Jacques Ferrand," said the duchesse, without
eingable to conceal her desire to laugh.
"What a strange being you are. Clothilde! There is
nothing in all this but what is serious and sad, yet you
laugh!" said the comte, surprised, and vexed.
"Pardon me, my friend," answered the duchesse:
" it is that the notary is such a singular man, and they
tell such strange things of him. But, seriously, if his
reputation as an honest man is no more merited than
his reputation as a pious man (and I declare this
usurped), he is a wretch !"   " Aud he lives-----"
" Rue du Sentier." " He shall have a visit from.me.
What you have told me coincides with certain suspi-
cions." " What suspicions?" "From what I can learn
respecting the deatli of the brother of my poor friend,
T am almost led to believe that this unfortunate man,
Mon Dieu! what is to be done? what is to be done?
Nothing that is here belongs tome; I have not-twenty
louis of my own."    " Your friends!"
"Ah! I owe to all those who could lend me; do you
think me such a fool as to have waited until to-day to
ask them?" "That is true; pardon me—come, let us
talk tranquilly, it is the best way to arrive at a reason-
able solution. Just now I wanted to tell yo:\ how .you
were attacked by those who were more cunning than
yourself.   You did not listen to me."
" Well, speak, if it can be of any use."
"Let us recapitulate: you said to me about two
months since, ' I have about one hundred and thirteen
thousand francs in drafts on different banking-
houses, which have sometime to run; can you find
means to negotiate them for me, my dear Baudi-
not-----' "    "Well! what next?"
'* Stop 1 I asked to see these drafts. A certain
something told me that these bills were forgeries,
although perfectly well done. I did not suspect that
you. It is true, possessed a caligraphic talent so far
advanced;   but having the charge of your fortunes.
instead of committing suicide, has been the victim of   e«er since you had no more fortune, I knew you wer
an assassination."                                                             \ completely ruined.   I had drawn up the deed by which
"Grand Dieu! and what makes you suppose this ?" ! your horses, your carriages, the furniture of this
*' Several reasons, which will be too long to tell you: I j hotel, belonged to Boyer and to Edwards. It was not,
shall leave you now." " How! you leave, without see- '¦ then, Wonderful for me to be astonished at seeing you
ing Florestan?"    " This interview would be too painful   possess commercial securities of so much value, hei'u?"
for me—you must comprehend it.   I only braved it in j--------------------------------------------------------------------------
the hopes  of obtaining some  information about Ma-            * Toulon, where the galley-slaves are confined.
"Dome the favor to spare me your astonishment,
and let us arrive at the facts."
" Here they are. I had thus not enough experience
or timidity to care to meddle directly in affairs ot
that description; I recommended a third person to
you, who, not less sharp-sighted than 1 am, suspected
the game you wished to play."
" That is impossible—he would not have discounted
these bills if he had thought them false."
" How much money did he give you for these 113,000
francs?" " Twenty-five thousand francs cash, and the
remainder in debts to be recovered."
"And how much did you ever recover from these?"
"Nothing, you know well enough; they were imag-
inary; but he certainly risked 25,000 francs."
"How unfledged you are, my dear Vicomte! Having
my commission of 100 louis to receive, I took good
care not to tell this third person the real state of your
affairs. He thought you still quite rich, and he knew,
besides, that you were adored by a great lady, who was
very rich, and who would never leave you* in embar-
rassment; lie was then pretty sure to get back what he
advanced; he ran some risk, to be sure; but he also
had a chance of making a great deal of money, and his
calculation was a good one ; for, the other dav you paid
him 100,000 francs to withdraw the forgery of 58,000
francs, and yesterday 30,000 for the second; for this last
he had to bê contented with receiving its real value.
How you procured these 30.000 francs yesterday, may
the devil run away with me if I know! for you are a
man ' unique.' So you see that at the end of the ac-
count, if Petit Jean forces you to pay the last draft for
25,000francs, he wiil have received from ^ you 155,000
francs, for 25,000 francs which he paid you; now, I
had reason to say that you were in the hands of those
more cunning than yourself." "But why did he tell
me that this last draft which he presented to-day
was negotiated?"
" Not to alarm you, he also had told you that, with
the exception of the 58,000 francs, the others were in
circulation; the first, once paid, yesterday came the
second, and to-day the third." ' "The scoundrel!"
" Listen to me, then: every one for himnelf, as a- cele-
brated lawyer said, and I like the maxim. But let us
talk coolly ; this proves to you that Petit Jean (and, be-
tvveen us, I should not be surprised if, notwithstanding
his holy .reputation, Jacques Ferrand was half eon-
cerned in these speculations), this proves to you, I say,
that Petit Jean, allured hy your first payments, specu-
lates on this last bill, quite suit that your friends will
not allow you to be dragged before the Cour d'Assizes.
It is for you to see if these friends are so well used, so
drained that not another golden drop can be squeezed
from them, for, if in three hours you have not the
25,000 francs, .my noble Vicomte, you are caged."
" If you were to repeat this tome forever-----" " Per-
haps you would consent to pluck a last feather from
the wing of this generous duchesse." *' I repeat to you
it must not be thought of. To find in three hours25,000
francs more, after all the sacrifices she has already
made—it would be madness to think of it."
"To please you, fortunate mortal, one would try an
impossibility." "Ah! she has already tried it; this was
to borrow 100,000 francs from her husband, and she
succeeded; but these are experiments that cannot be
tried twice. Let us see, my dear Baudinot, until now
you have never had any reason to complain of me. I
have always been generous; try to obtain some delay
from this miserable Petit Jean. You know I always
can find means to -recompense those who serye me;
this last affair once hushed, I will take a new flight—
you shall be content with me."
"Petit Jean is as inflexible as you are unreasonable."
"I!" "Try only to interest once more yoUr generous
friend in your sad fate. The devil! tell her right out
the truth; not. as you have already said, that you are
the dupe, but that you are the forger himself," " No,
never will I make such an acknowledgment; it would
be shame without any advantage." "Do you prefer
that she should learn it to-morrow by the Gazette d$9
TribvnauxV
"I have three hours left—I can flee."
"And where will you go without money? Judge now!
on the contrary, this last forgery taken up, you will
find yourself in a superb position: you would have no
more debts. Come,come, prom ise me to speak once more
to the duchesse. You are such a rake, you know how
to make yourself so inieresting in spite of -your faults;
at the very worst, perhaps, you will he esteemed the
less, or even no more, but you will be lifted out of this
scrape. Come, promise me to see your friend, and I
will run to Petit J"ean, and do my best to obtain an hour
or two more." "Hell! must I drink of shame to the
very dregs!"
" Come, now! good luck—be tender, charming, fond;
I run to Petit Jean; you will find me here until three
o'clock: later it will no longer be in time: the office of
the procureur du roi is closed after four o'clock." And
Monsieur Badinot took his departure,
When the door was closed, Florestan wras heard to
cry, in profound despair, " Blon Dieu! mon Dieu!"
During this conversation, which unmasked to the
comte the infamy of his son, and to Madame de Luce-
nay the infamy of the man whom she had so blindly
loved, both remained immovable, scarcely breathing,
under the weight of this fright fui révélai ion.
It would be impossible to describe the mute elo-
quence of the sorrowful scene which passed between,
this young woman and the comte, when there was no
longer any doubt of the crime of Florestan,-  Extend-
, ing his arm towards the room where his son remained,
! the old man smiled with bitter irony, cast a withering
j look on Madame de Lucenay, and seemed to say to
! her:
" Behold him for whom you liave braved all sha
made every sacrifice! behold him you have reproached
me for abandoning!"
The duchesse understood the look: for a moment she
, hung lier head under the weight of her shame.   The
lesson wras terrible.
Then, by degrees, to the cruel anxiety which had
contracted the features ol' Madamede Lucenay suc-
ceeded a kind of noble indignation. The inexcusable
faults of this woman were at least palliated by tbe
fidelity of her love, by the boldness of her devotion,
by thé grandeur of her generosity, by the frankness of
lier character, and by her inexorable aversion for
everything that was cowardly and dishonest.
Stïll too young,too handsonie.too much sought after,
to experience the humility of having been made use
of, this proud and decided woman, once the illusion of
love having vanished, felt neither hatred nor anger;
instantaneously, without any transition, a mortal dis-
gust, an icy disdain, killed her affection, until then so