Collected works of eugen.., p.696
Collected Works of Eugène Sue, page 696
This reflection, reviving as it did such poignant regrets, dominated him so completely that, forgetting everything else, he drew out the visiting card the commandant had left for him, and demanded, abruptly:
“Will you tell me how it happens that Mlle. Moreau’s name and address are written in pencil on the back of this card?”
“What!” exclaimed the commandant, amazed at the question, especially at such a moment. “You wish to know—”
“How it happens that Mlle. Moreau’s address is on this card. When I ask a question, I expect to have it answered.”
“The devil! My young friend, you are trying to carry things with a high hand, it strikes me.”
“You are at perfect liberty to take offence at my manner, if you choose.”
“Really, monsieur!” exclaimed the usurer, straightening himself up and twirling his black moustache quite ferociously. Then, with a sudden change of manner, he added: “Oh, nonsense! I have proved my valour beyond all question. An old soldier, with any number of wounds, I can afford to let many things pass; so I will merely say, my dear client, that that young girl’s name and address happen to be on the card because I wrote them there so I would not forget them.”
“You know Mlle. Mariette, then?”
“I do.”
“You are paying court to her, perhaps?”
“Rather.”
“With hopes of success?”
“Decidedly.”
“Very well, I forbid you ever to set foot in her house again.”
“Ah, ha! so I have a rival,” the usurer said to himself. “How funny! I understand the girl’s refusal now. I must get ahead of my client, though. He is young and unsophisticated, — that means he is jealous. He will be sure to fall into the trap, then I can oust him, for I’ve set my heart on the girl, and if I can’t get her this young fellow sha’n’t. I’m resolved upon that!”
After which, he added aloud:
“My dear friend, when I am forbidden to do anything, I consider it my bounden duty to do precisely what I am forbidden to do.”
“We will see about that, monsieur.”
“Listen, young man. I have fought fifty-seven duels, so I can easily dispense with fighting the fifty-eighth with you. I prefer, consequently, to try to induce you to listen to the voice of reason, if possible. Permit me, therefore, to ask you one question: You have just returned from a journey, I believe?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“You were absent several days, I think. May I ask if you have seen Mariette since your return?”
“No, monsieur, but—”
“Ah, well, my young friend, the same thing has happened to you that has happened to many other lovers. Mariette was not aware that you were the son of a millionaire; I presented myself in your absence, and offered her what has never yet failed to turn the head of a half-starved grisette. Her godmother, who was also dying of hunger, craved the fleshpots of Egypt, naturally, — and, well, ‘les absents ont toujours tort,’ you know. Ha, ha, you understand!”
“My God!” groaned Louis, his anger giving place to profound despair. “My God! it is true, then.”
“If I had known that I was interfering with a prospective client, I would have abstained, I assure you. Now it is too late. Besides, there are as good fish in the sea — You know the proverb. Come, my young friend, don’t take it so much to heart. The girl was entirely too young for you. She needs training. You will find plenty of charming women already trained and thoroughly trained. I can particularly recommend a certain Madame — —”
“Wretch!” exclaimed Louis, seizing the man of affairs by the collar, “wretch!—”
“Monsieur, you shall answer for this!” exclaimed the commandant, trying to wrench himself from his rival’s iron grasp.
Just then the door opened suddenly, and, at the sound of a loud laugh, both men turned simultaneously.
“Saint-Herem!” exclaimed Louis, recognising his old schoolmate.
“You here!” exclaimed Florestan de Saint-Herem, while the usurer, adjusting the collar of his dressing-gown, muttered savagely under his breath:
“What the devil brought Saint-Herem here just at this most inopportune moment, I should like to know!”
CHAPTER IX.
COMMANDANT DE LA MIRAUDIÈRE’S ANTECEDENTS.
M. DE SAINT-HEREM was a handsome man, not over thirty years of age, with a remarkably distinguished manner and bearing. His refined and rather spirituelle face sometimes wore an expression of extreme superciliousness, as when he addressed any remark to Commandant de la Miraudière, for instance; but at the sight of his old schoolmate he seemed to experience the liveliest joy. He even embraced him affectionately, and Louis returned the embrace heartily, spite of the conflicting emotions that agitated him.
But this manifestation of surprise and pleasure over, the chief actors in the scene relapsed into the same mood they had been in when Saint-Herem so unexpectedly burst in upon them, and Louis, pale with anger, continued to cast such wrathful glances at the usurer that M. de Saint-Herem said to that gentleman, with a mocking air:
“You must admit that I arrived very opportunely. But for my timely appearance upon the scene of action, it seems to me my friend Louis would soon have taken all the starch out of you.”
“To dare to lay his hand on me, an old soldier!” exclaimed the commandant, advancing a step toward Louis. “This matter shall not be allowed to end here, M. Richard.”
“That is for you to say, M. de la Miraudière.”
“M. de la Miraudière? Ha, ha, ha!” roared Florestan. “What! my dear Louis, you really take that fellow seriously? You believe in his title, in his cross, in his campaigns, his wounds, his duels, and his high-sounding name?”
“Enough of this jesting,” said the pretended commandant, colouring with vexation. “Even friendly raillery has its limits, my dear fellow.”
“M. Jerome Porquin,” began Florestan, then, turning to Louis, he added, pointing to the usurer, “his real name is Porquin, and a very appropriate name it is, it seems to me.”
Then once more addressing the pretended commandant, Florestan added, in a tone that admitted of no reply:
“This is the second time I have been obliged to forbid your calling me your dear friend, M. Porquin. It is different with me, I have bought and paid for the right to call you my dear, my enormously, entirely too dear M. Porquin, for you have swindled me most outrageously—”
“Really, monsieur, I will not allow—”
“What is that? Since when has M. Porquin become so terribly sensitive?” cried Saint-Herem, with an affectation of intense astonishment. “What has happened? Oh, yes, I understand. It is your presence, my friend Louis, that makes this much too dear M. Porquin squirm so when I expose his falsehoods and his absurd pretensions. To settle this vexed question once for all, I must tell you — and let us see if he will have the effrontery to contradict me — who M. le Commandant de la Miraudière really is. He has never served his country except in the sutler’s department. He went to Madrid in that capacity during the late war, and as he proved to be too great an expense to the government, he was asked to take himself off. He did so, and transformed himself into what he calls a man of affairs, or, in other words, into a usurer, and an intermediary in all sorts of shady transactions. The decoration he wears is that of the Golden Spur, a papal order, which one holy man procured from another holy man as a reward for his assistance in a most atrocious swindle. He has never fought a duel in his life, in the first place because he is one of the biggest cowards that ever lived, and in the second place because he bears such a bad reputation that he knows perfectly well that no respectable man would condescend to fight with him, and that if he becomes insolent the only thing to do is to give him a sound thrashing.”
“When you want to make use of me you do not treat me in this fashion, monsieur,” said the usurer, sullenly.
“When I need you, I pay you, M. Porquin, and as I know all your tricks, my too dear M. Porquin, I feel it my duty to warn my friend, M. Richard, against you. You are doubtless eager to devour him; in fact, it is more than likely that you have already begun to weave your toils around him, but—”
“That is the way some persons reward faithful service!” exclaimed M. Porquin, bitterly. “I reveal a secret of the highest importance to him, and—”
“I understand your motive now,” responded Louis Richard, dryly, “so I owe you no gratitude for the service you have rendered me, — that is, if it be a service,” he added, sadly.
The usurer had no intention of losing his prey, however, and, deeming it advisable to ignore the insults M. de Saint-Herem had heaped upon him, he said to Saint-Herem, with as much assurance as if that gentleman had not so roughly unmasked him:
“Your friend, M. Richard is at perfect liberty to tell you the conditions of the bargain I just proposed to him, and you can then judge whether my demands are exorbitant or not. As my presence might be a constraint, gentlemen, will you kindly step into the adjoining room? I will await M. Richard’s decision here; that is, of course, if he desires to ask your advice on the subject.”
“An admirable suggestion, truly, my too dear M. Porquin,” responded Florestan, promptly. And, taking Louis by the arm, he led him toward the door, remarking to the usurer, as he did so:
“On my return, I will tell you the object of my visit, or rather, I will tell you now. I must have two hundred louis this evening. Here, examine these securities.”
And M. de Saint-Herem, drawing some papers from his pocket, threw them to the usurer, then entered the adjoining room, accompanied by his friend.
The revelation of M. Porquin’s real character was another terrible blow to Louis Richard. The knowledge that it was for the sake of such a wretch as this that Mariette had been false to him caused him bitter sorrow, and, unable to restrain his feelings, as soon as he found himself alone with his friend, he seized both Saint-Herem’s hands, and, in a voice trembling with emotion, exclaimed:
“Oh, Florestan, how miserable I am!”
“I suspected as much, my dear Louis, for it must be worse than death for a sensible, industrious fellow like you to find yourself in the clutches of a scoundrel like Porquin. What is the trouble? Your habits have always been so frugal, how did you manage to get into debt? Tell me about it. What seems an enormous sum to you may be but a trifle to me. I just told that rascal in there that he was to let me have two hundred louis this evening, and I am sure he will. You shall share them with me, or you can have the whole amount if you want it. Two hundred louis will certainly pay all the debts any notary’s clerk can have contracted. I do not say this to humiliate you, far from it. If you need more, we will try to get it elsewhere, but for God’s sake don’t apply to Porquin. If you do you are lost. I know the scoundrel so well.”
Saint-Herem’s generous offer gave Louis such heart-felt pleasure that he almost forgot his sorrows for the moment.
“My dear, kind friend, if you knew how much this proof of your friendship consoles me,” he exclaimed.
“So much the better. You accept my offer, then.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I do not need your kind services. This usurer, whom I had never heard of before, sent for me yesterday to offer to loan me, each year, more money than I have spent in my whole life.”
“What! He makes you such an offer as that, this usurer who never loans so much as a sou without the very best security. Men of his stamp set a very small valuation on honesty, industry, and integrity, and I know that these are your sole patrimony, my dear Louis.”
“You are mistaken, Florestan. My father is worth over two millions.”
“Your father!” exclaimed Saint-Herem, in profound astonishment. “Your father?”
“Yes. In some mysterious way this usurer has managed to discover a secret, of which even I had not the slightest suspicion, I assure you, so he sent for me—”
“To offer you his services, of course. He and others of his ilk are always on the lookout for hidden fortunes, and when they find them they offer to the prospective heirs such advances as will enable them to squander their wealth before they inherit it. So you are rich, my dear Louis! You need not feel any doubts on the subject. If Porquin has made you such an offer, he knows it for a certainty.”
“Yes, I think so, too,” said Louis, almost sadly.
“Why do you speak so mournfully, Louis? One would suppose that you had just made some terrible discovery. What is the matter with you? What is the meaning of those tears I saw in your eyes a little while ago? And of that exclamation, ‘I am very miserable!’ You miserable, and why?”
“Do not ridicule me, my friend. The truth is, I love, and I have been deceived.”
“You have a rival, then, I suppose.”
“Yes, and, to crown my misfortunes, this rival—”
“Go on.”
“Is this rascally usurer.”
“Porquin, that old scoundrel! The girl prefers him to you? Impossible! But what leads you to suppose—”
“Several suspicious circumstances; besides, he says so.”
“Fine authority that! He lies, I am certain of it.”
“But, Florestan, he is rich, and the girl I loved, or rather whom I still love in spite of myself, is terribly poor.”
“The devil!”
“Besides, she has an invalid connection to take care of. This scoundrel’s offers must have dazzled the poor child, or want may have induced her to listen to the voice of the tempter, as so many others do. What does the discovery of this wealth profit me now? I care nothing for it if I cannot share it with Mariette.”
“Listen, Louis, I know you, and I feel confident that you must have placed your affections wisely.”
“Yes; and for more than a year Mariette has given every proof of her faithful attachment to me, but yesterday, without the slightest warning, came a letter breaking our engagement.”
“A good girl who has loved a man as poor as you were faithfully for a year would not have been so quickly won over by the promises of an old villain like Porquin. He lied to you; I haven’t a doubt of it.”
Then calling out at the top of his voice, to the great surprise of Louis, he exclaimed:
“Commandant de la Miraudière, come here a minute!”
“What are you going to do, Florestan?” asked Louis, as the usurer appeared in the doorway.
“Keep still and let me manage this affair,” replied his friend. Then, turning to the usurer, he continued:
“M. de la Miraudière, I feel sure that you must be labouring under a misapprehension in relation to a very nice young girl who — according to your account — has fallen a victim to your charms. Will you do me the favour to tell me the truth so I may know what action to take in the matter?”
Concluding that it would be politic to sacrifice a caprice that he had little chance of gratifying to the advantage of having Louis Richard for a client, Porquin replied:
“I must confess that I deeply deplore a stupid jest that seems to have annoyed M. Richard so much.”
“I told you so,” remarked Florestan, turning to his friend. “And now M. le commandant must do me the favour to explain how the idea of this stupid jest, or rather what I should call an atrocious calumny, happened to occur to him.”
“The explanation is very simple, monsieur. I saw Mlle. Mariette several times in the establishment where she is employed. Her beauty struck me. I asked for her address, secured it, and, finding her godmother at home when I called, I proposed to her that—”
“Enough, monsieur, enough!” cried Louis, indignantly.
“Permit me to add, however, that the aforesaid godmother declined my offer, and that the young lady, herself, chancing to come about that time, coolly ordered me out of the house. I am making a frank confession, you see, M. de Saint-Herem. I do it, I admit, in the hope that it will gain me M. Richard’s confidence, and that he will decide to accept my services. As for you, M. de Saint-Herem,” continued the usurer, in his most ingratiating manner, “I have examined the securities you submitted to me, and I will bring you the money you want this evening. And, by the way, when you hear the offer I have made to M. Richard, I feel confident that you will consider my terms very reasonable.”
“I do not want your money, monsieur,” said Louis, “and I consider it an insult for you to think me capable of trading upon my father’s death, as it were—”
“But, my dear client, permit me to say—”
“Come, Florestan, let us go,” Louis said to his friend, without paying the slightest attention to the usurer’s protest.
“You see, my too dear M. Porquin,” said Saint-Herem, as he turned to depart, “you see there are still a few honest men and women left in the world. It is useless to hope that this discovery will serve either as an example or a lesson for you, however. You are too set in your ways ever to reform; but it is some comfort to know of your double defeat.”
“Ah, my dear Florestan,” remarked Louis, as they left the house, “thanks to you, I am much less miserable. The fact that Mariette treated this villain with the scorn he deserved is some comfort, even though she has decided to break her engagement with me.”
“Did she tell you so?”
“No, she wrote me to that effect, or rather she got some other person to do it for her.”
“What, she got some other person to write such a thing as that for her!”
“You will sneer, perhaps, but the poor girl I love can neither read nor write.”
“How fortunate you are! You will at least escape such epistles as I have been receiving from a pretty little perfumer I took away from a rich but miserly old banker. I have been amusing myself by showing her a little of the world, — it is so pleasant to see people happy, — but I have not been able to improve her grammar, and such spelling! It is of the antediluvian type. Mother Eve must have written in much the same fashion. But if your Mariette can neither read nor write, how do you know but her secretary may have distorted the facts?”
