Part 38

Poor Marguerite was now finishing her story: “You see, monsieur, that, far from being an heiress, as you suppose, I am homeless and penniless,” she said.

The General had risen from his chair, and was striding up and down the room with every token of intense agitation. “It’s true,” he said apparently unconscious of his words. “She’s ruined--lost--the misfortune is complete!” Then, suddenly pausing with folded arms in front of Mademoiselle Marguerite: “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“God will not forsake me, General,” she replied.

He turned on his heel and resumed his promenade, wildly gesticulating and indulging in a furious monologue which was certainly not very easy to follow. “Frightful! terrible!” he growled. “The daughter of an old comrade--zounds!--of a friend of thirty years’ standing--to be left in such a plight! Never, a thousand thunderclaps!--never! Poor child!--a heart of gold, and as pretty as an angel! This horrible Paris would devour her at a single mouthful! It would be a crime--an abomination! It sha’n’t be!--the old veterans are here, firm as rocks!”

Thereupon, approaching the poor girl again, he exclaimed in a coarse but seemingly feeling voice: “Mademoiselle Marguerite.”

“General?”

“You are acquainted with my son, Gustave Fondege, are you not?”

“I think I have heard you speak of him to M. de Chalusse several times.”

The General tugged furiously at his mustaches as was his wont whenever he was perplexed or embarrassed. “My son,” he resumed, “is twenty-seven. He’s now a lieutenant of hussars, and will soon be promoted to the rank of captain. He’s a handsome fellow, sure to make his way in the world, for he’s not wanting in spirit. As I never attempt to hide the truth, I must confess that he’s a trifle dissipated; but his heart is all right, and a charming little wife would soon turn him from the error of his ways, and he’d become the pearl of husbands.” He paused, passed his forefinger three or four times between his collar and his neck, and then, in a half-strangled voice, he added: “Mademoiselle Marguerite, I have the honor to ask for your hand in marriage on behalf of Lieutenant Gustave de Fondege, my son.”

There was a dangerous gleam of anger in Mademoiselle Marguerite’s eyes, as she coldly replied: “I am honored by your request, monsieur; but my future is already decided.”

Some seconds elapsed before M. de Fondege could recover his powers of speech. “This is a piece of foolishness,” he faltered, at last with singular agitation. “Let me hope that you will reconsider the matter. And if Gustave doesn’t please you, we will find some one better. But under no circumstances will Chalusse’s old comrade ever desert you. I shall send Madame de Fondege to see you this evening. She’s a good woman and you will understand each other. Come, answer me, what do you say to it?”

His persistence irritated the poor girl beyond endurance, and to put an end to the painful scene, she at last asked: “Would you not like to look--for the last time--at M. de Chalusse?”

“Ah! yes, certainly--an old friend of thirty years’ standing.” So saying he advanced toward the door leading into the death-room, but on reaching the threshold, he cried in sudden terror: “Oh! no, no, I could not.” And with these words he withdrew or rather he fled from the room down the stairs.

As long as the General had been there, the magistrate had given no sign of life. But seated beyond the circle of light cast by the lamps, he had remained an attentive spectator of the scene, and now that he found himself once more alone with Mademoiselle Marguerite he came forward, and leaning against the mantelpiece and looking her full in the face he exclaimed: “Well, my child?”

The girl trembled like a culprit awaiting sentence of death, and it was in a hollow voice that she replied: “I understood--”

“What?” insisted the pitiless magistrate.

She raised her beautiful eyes, in which angry tears were still glittering, and then answered in a voice which quivered with suppressed passion, “I have fathomed the infamy of those two men who have just left the house. I understood the insult their apparent generosity conceals. They had questioned the servants, and had ascertained that two millions were missing. Ah, the scoundrels! They believe that I have stolen those millions; and they came to ask me to share the ill-gotten wealth with them. What an insult! and to think that I am powerless to avenge it! Ah! the servants’ suspicions were nothing in comparison with this. At least, they did not ask for a share of the booty as the price of their silence!”

The magistrate shook his head as if this explanation scarcely satisfied him. “There is something else, there is certainly something else,” he repeated. But the doors were still open, so he closed them carefully, and then returned to the girl he was so desirous of advising. “I wish to tell you,” he said, “that you have mistaken the motives which induced these gentlemen to ask for your hand in marriage.”

“Do you believe, then, that you have fathomed them?”

“I could almost swear that I had. Didn’t you remark a great difference in their manner? Didn’t one of them, the marquis, behave with all the calmness and composure which are the result of reflection and calculation? The other, on the contrary, acted most precipitately, as if he had suddenly come to a determination, and formed a plan on the impulse of the moment.”

Mademoiselle Marguerite reflected.

“That’s true,” she said, “that’s indeed true. Now I recollect the difference.”

“And this is my explanation of it,” resumed the magistrate. “‘The Marquis de Valorsay,’ I said to myself, ‘must have proofs in his possession that Mademoiselle Marguerite is the count’s daughter--written and conclusive proofs, that is certain--probably a voluntary admission of the fact from the father. Who can prove that M. de Valorsay does not possess this acknowledgment? In fact, he must possess it. He hinted it himself.’ Accordingly on hearing of the count’s sudden death, he said to himself, ‘If Marguerite was my wife, and if I could prove her to be M. de Chalusse’s daughter, I should obtain several millions.’ Whereupon he consulted his legal adviser who assured him that it would be the best course he could pursue; and so he came here. You repulsed him, but he will soon make another assault, you may rest assured of that. And some day or other he will come to you and say, ‘Whether we marry or not, let us divide.’”

Mademoiselle Marguerite was amazed. The magistrate’s words seemed to dispel the mist which had hitherto hidden the truth from view. “Yes,” she exclaimed, “yes, you are right, monsieur.”

He was silent for a moment, and then he resumed: “I understand M. de Fondege’s motive less clearly; but still I have some clue. He had not questioned the servants. That is evident from the fact that on his arrival here he believed you to be the sole legatee. He was also aware that M. de Chalusse had taken certain precautions we are ignorant of, but which he is no doubt fully acquainted with. What you told him about your poverty amazed him, and he immediately evinced a desire to atone for the count’s neglect with as much eagerness as if he were the cause of this negligence himself. And, indeed, judging by the agitation he displayed when he was imploring you to become his son’s wife, one might almost imagine that the sight of your misery awakened a remorse which he was endeavoring to quiet. Now, draw your own conclusions.”

The wretched girl looked questioningly at the magistrate as if she hesitated to trust the thoughts which his words had awakened in her mind. “Then you think, monsieur,” she said, with evident reluctance, “you think, you suppose, that the General is acquainted with the whereabouts of the missing millions?”

“Quite correct,” answered the magistrate, and then as if he feared that he had gone too far, he added: “but draw your own conclusions respecting the matter. You have the whole night before you. We will talk it over again to-morrow, and if I can be of service to you in any way, I shall be only too glad.”

“But, monsieur--”