Other People's Money, Emile Gaboriau [best ebook reader txt] 📗

glad to hear that her husband was safe out of the country, and yet she would have deemed herself less miserable, had she known that he was hid somewhere in Paris.

And obstinately the same questions returned to her lips,

“Where is he now?  What is he doing?  What is he thinking about?  How can he leave us without news?  Is it possible that it is a woman who has driven him into the precipice?  And, if so, who is that woman?”

Very different were Mlle. Gilberte’s thoughts.

The great calamity that befell her family had brought about the sudden realization of her hopes.  Her father’s disaster had given her an opportunity to test the man she loved; and she had found him even superior to all that she could have dared to dream.  The name of Favoral was forever disgraced; but she was going to be the wife of Marius, Marquise de Tregars.

And, in the candor of her loyal soul, she accused herself of not taking enough interest in her mother’s grief, and reproached herself for the quivers of joy which she felt within her.

“Where is Maxence?” asked Mme. Favoral.

“Where is M. de Tregars?  Why have they told us nothing of their projects?”

“They will, no doubt, come home to dinner,” replied Mlle. Gilberte.

So well was she convinced of this, that she had given orders to the servant to have a somewhat better dinner than usual; and her heart was beating at the thought of being seated near Marius, between her mother and her brother.

At about six o’clock, the bell rang violently.

“There he is!” said the young girl, rising to her feet.

But no:  it was only the porter, bringing up a summons ordering Mme. Favoral, under penalty of the law, to appear the next day, at one o’clock precisely, before the examining judge, Barban d’Avranchel, at his office in the Palace of Justice.

The poor woman came near fainting.

“What can this judge want with me?  It ought to be forbidden to call a wife to testify against her husband,” she said.

“M. de Tregars will tell you what to answer, mamma,” said Mlle. Gilberte.

Meantime, seven o’clock came, then eight, and still neither Maxence nor M. de Tregars had come.

Both mother and daughter were becoming anxious, when at last, a little before nine, they heard steps in the hall.

Marius de Tregars appeared almost immediately.

He was pale; and his face bore the trace of the crushing fatigues of the day, of the cares which oppressed him, of the reflections which had been suggested to his mind by the quarrel of which he had nearly been the victim a few moments since.

“Maxence is not here?” he asked at once.

“We have not seen him,” answered Mlle. Gilberte.

He seemed so much surprised, that Mme. Favoral was frightened.

“What is the matter again, good God!” she exclaimed.

“Nothing, madame,” said M. de Tregars,—“nothing that should alarm you.  Compelled, about two hours ago, to part from Maxence, I was to have met him here.  Since he has not come, he must have been detained.  I know where; and I will ask your permission to run and join him.”

He went out; but Mlle. Gilberte followed him in the hall, and, taking his hand,

“How kind of you!” she began, “and how can we ever sufficiently thank you?”

He interrupted her.

“You owe me no thanks, my beloved; for, in what I am doing, there is more selfishness than you think.  It is my own cause, more than yours, that I am defending.  Any way, every thing is going on well.”

And, without giving any more explanations, he started again.  He had no doubt that Maxence, after leaving him, had run to the Hotel des Folies to give to Mlle. Lucienne an account of the day’s work.  And, though somewhat annoyed that he had tarried so long, on second thought, he was not surprised.

It was, therefore, to the Hotel des Folies that he was going.  Now that he had unmasked his batteries and begun the struggle, he was not sorry to meet Mlle. Lucienne.

In less than five minutes he had reached the Boulevard du Temple.  In front of the Fortins’ narrow corridor a dozen idlers were standing, talking.

M. de Tregars was listening as he went along.

“It is a frightful accident,” said one,—“such a pretty girl, and so young too!”

“As to me,” said another, “it is the driver that I pity the most; for after all, if that pretty miss was in that carriage, it was for her own pleasure; whereas, the poor coachman was only attending to his business.”

A confused presentiment oppressed M. de Tregars’ heart.  Addressing himself to one of those worthy citizens,

“Have you heard any particulars?”

Flattered by the confidence,

“Certainly I have,” he replied.  “I didn’t see the thing with my own proper eyes; but my wife did.  It was terrible.  The carriage, a magnificent private carriage too, came from the direction of the Madeleine.  The horses had run away; and already there had been an accident in the Place du Chateau d’Eau, where an old woman had been knocked down.  Suddenly, here, over there, opposite the toy-shop, which is mine, by the way, the wheel of the carriage catches into the wheel of an enormous truck; and at once, palata! the coachman is thrown down, and so is the lady, who was inside,—a very pretty girl, who lives in this hotel.”

Leaving there the obliging narrator, M. de Tregars rushed through the narrow corridor of the Hotel des Folies.  At the moment when he reached the yard, he found himself in presence of Maxence.

Pale, his head bare, his eyes wild, shaking with a nervous chill, the poor fellow looked like a madman.  Noticing M. de Tregars,

“Ah, my friend!” he exclaimed, “what misfortune!”

“Lucienne?”

“Dead, perhaps.  The doctor will not answer for her recovery.  I am going to the druggist’s to get a prescription.”

He was interrupted by the commissary of police, whose kind protection had hitherto preserved Mlle. Lucienne.  He was coming out of the little room on the ground-floor, which the Fortins used for an office, bedroom, and dining-room.

He had recognized Marius de Tregars, and, coming up to him, he pressed his hand, saying, “Well, you know?”

“Yes.”

“It is my