The Clique of Gold, Emile Gaboriau [if you liked this book .txt] 📗

The countess heard of it first through her husband. He could not understand, he said, how a man in good position, with a bright future before him, and a large income to support him, could thus kill himself.

“And to choose such a strange place for his suicide!” he added. “It is evident the man was insane.”

But the countess did not hear this. She had fainted. She understood but too well why Peter had wished to die in that lane overshadowed by old elm-trees.

“I killed him,” she thought, “I killed him!”

The blow was so sudden and so severe, that she came near dying. Fortunately her mother died nearly at the same time; and this misfortune helped to explain her utter prostration and deep grief.

Her mother had been gradually fading away, after having had all she desired, and living in real luxury during her last years. Her selfishness was so intense, that she never became aware of the cruelty with which she had sacrificed her daughter.

Sacrificed, however, she really had been; for never did woman suffer what the countess endured from the day on which her lover’s suicide added bitter remorse to all her former grief. What would have become of her, if her child had not bound her to life! But she resolved to live; she felt that she was bound to live for Henrietta’s sake.

Thus she struggled on quite alone, for she had not a soul in whom she could confide, when one afternoon, as she was going down stairs, a servant came to tell her that there was a young man in naval uniform below, who desired to have the honor of waiting upon her.

The servant handed her his card; she took it, and read,—

“Daniel Champcey.”

It was Daniel, Peter’s brother. Pale as death, the countess turned as if to escape.

“What must I say?” asked the servant, rather surprised at the emotion shown by his mistress.

The poor woman felt as if she was going to faint.

“Show him up,” she replied in a scarcely audible voice,—“show him up.”

When she looked up again, there stood before her a young man, twenty- three or twenty-four years old, with a frank and open face, and clear, bright eyes, beaming with intelligence and energy.

The countess pointed at a chair near her; for she could not have uttered a word to save her daughter’s life.

He could not help noticing her embarrassment; but he did not guess the cause. Peter had never mentioned Pauline’s name in his father’s house.

So he sat down, and explained why he came, showing neither embarrassment nor forwardness.

As soon as he had graduated at the Naval Academy, he had been made a midshipman on board “The Formidable,” and there he was still. A younger man had recently been wrongly promoted over him; and he had asked for leave of absence to appeal to the secretary of the navy. He felt quite sure of the justice of his claims; but he also knew that strong recommendations never spoil a good cause. In fact, he hoped that Count Ville-Handry, of whose kindness and great influence he had heard much, would consent to indorse his claims.

Gradually, and while listening to him, the countess recovered her calmness.

“My husband will be happy to serve a countryman of his,” she replied; “and he will tell you so himself, if you will be kind enough to wait for him, and stay to dinner.”

Daniel did stay. At table he was placed by the side of Henrietta, who was then fifteen years old; and the countess, seeing these two young and handsome people side by side, was suddenly struck with an idea which seemed to her nothing less than inspiration from on high. Why might she not intrust the future happiness of her daughter to the brother of the poor man who had loved her so dearly? Thus she might make some amends for her own conduct, and show some respect to his memory.

“Yes,” she said to herself that night, before falling asleep, “it must be so. Daniel shall be Henrietta’s husband.”

Thus it came about, that, only a fortnight later, Count Ville-Handry said to one of his intimate friends, pointing out Daniel,—

“That young Champcey is a very remarkable young man; he has a great future before him. And one of these days, when he is a lieutenant, and a few years older, if it should so happen that he liked Henrietta, and asked me for my consent, I should not say no. The countess might think and say of it what she chooses, I am master.”

After that time Daniel became, unfortunately, a constant visitor at the house in Varennes Street.

He had not only obtained ample satisfaction at headquarters, but, by the powerful influence of certain high personages, he had been temporarily assigned to duty in the bureau of the navy department, with the promise of a better position in active service hereafter.

Thus Daniel and Henrietta saw a great deal of each other, and, to all appearances, began to love each other.

“O God!” thought the countess, “why are they not a few years older?”

The poor lady had for some months been troubled by dismal presentiments. She felt as if she would not live long; and she trembled at the idea of leaving her child without any other protector but the count.

If Henrietta had at least known the truth, and, instead of admiring her father as a man of superior ability, learned to mistrust his judgment! A hundred times the countess was on the point of revealing her secret. Alas! her great delicacy always kept her from doing so.

One night, as she returned from a great ball, she suddenly was seized with vertigo. She did not think much of it, but sent for a cup of tea.

When it came, she was standing before the fireplace, undoing her hair; but, instead of taking it, she suddenly raised her hand to her throat, uttered a hoarse sound, and fell back.

They raised her up. In an instant the whole house was alive. They sent for the doctors. All was in vain.

The Countess Ville-Handry had died from disease of the heart.