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

late heard much of diseases of the brain, asked himself if Daniel could possibly have lost his mind.

No; for suddenly his friend stopped before him, and said in a short, sharp tone,—

“First of all, Maxime, swear that you will never, under any circumstances, say to any human being a word of what I am going to tell you.”

Thoroughly mystified, Brevan raised his hand, and said,—

“I pledge my word of honor!”

This promise seemed to re-assure Daniel; and, when he thought he had recovered sufficient control over himself, he said,—

“Some months ago, my dear friend, I heard you telling somebody a horrible story concerning a certain Mrs. Sarah Brandon”—

“Miss, if you please, not Mrs.”

“Well, it does not matter. You know her?”

“Certainly. Everybody knows her.”

Daniel did not notice the extreme self-conceit with which these words were uttered.

“All right, then. Now, Maxime, I conjure you, by our friendship, tell me frankly what you think of her. What kind of a woman is this Miss Brandon?”

His features, as well as his voice, betrayed such extreme excitement, that Brevan was almost stunned. At last he said,—

“But, my dear fellow, you ask me that in a manner”—

“I must know the truth, I tell you. It is of the utmost importance to me.”

Brevan, struck by a sudden thought, touched his forehead, and exclaimed,—

“Oh, I see! You are in love with Sarah!”

Daniel would never have thought of such a subterfuge in order to avoid mentioning the name of Count Ville-Handry; but, seeing it thus offered to him, he determined to profit by the opportunity.

“Well, yes, suppose it is so,” he said with a sigh.

Maxime raised his hands to heaven, and said in a tone of painful conviction,—

“In that case you are right. You ought to inquire; for you may be close upon a terrible misfortune.”

“Ah, is she really so formidable?”

Maxime shrugged his shoulders, as if he were impatient at being called upon to prove a well-known fact, and said,—

“I should think so.”

There seemed to be no reason why Daniel should persist in his questions after that. Those words ought to have been explanation enough. Nevertheless he said in a subdued voice,—

“Pray explain, Maxime! Don’t you know, that, as I lead a very quiet life, I know nothing?”

Brevan, looking more serious than he had ever done, rose and replied, leaning against the mantlepiece,—

“What would you have me tell you? It is only fools who call out to lovers to beware; and to warn a man who will not be warned, is useless. Are you really in love with Miss Sarah, or are you not? If you are, nothing that I could say would change your mind. Suppose I were to tell you that this Sarah is a wretched creature, an infamous forger, who has already the death of three poor devils on her conscience, who loved her as you do? Suppose I told you worse things than these, and could prove them? Do you know what would happen? You would press my hand with effusion. You would overwhelm me with thanks, tears in your eye. You would vow, in the candor of your heart, that you are forever cured, and, when you leave me”—

“Well?”

“You would rush to your beloved, tell her all I said, and beseech her to clear herself of all these charges.”

“I beg your pardon; I am not one of those men who”—

But Brevan was getting more and more excited. He interrupted his friend, and said,—

“Nonsense! You are a man like all other men. Passion does not reason, does not calculate; and that is the secret of its strength. As long as we have a spark of commonsense left, we are not really in love. That is so, I tell you; and no will, no amount of energy, can do any thing with it. There are people who tell you soberly that they have been in love without losing their senses, and reproach you for not keeping cool. Bosh! Those people remind me of still champagne blaming sparkling champagne for popping off the cork. And now, my dear fellow, have the kindness to accept this cigar, and let us take a walk.”

Was that really so as Brevan said? Was it true that real love destroys in us the faculty of reasoning, and of distinguishing truth from falsehood? Did he really not love Henrietta truly, because he was on the point of giving her up for the sake of doing his duty?

Oh, no, no! Brevan had been speaking of another kind of love,—a love neither pure nor chaste. He spoke of those passions which suddenly strike us down like lightning; which confound our senses, and mislead our judgment; which destroy every thing, as fire does, and leave nothing behind but disaster and disgrace and remorse.

But all the more painful became Daniel’s thoughts as he remembered that Count Ville-Handry was overcome by one of these terrible passions for a worthless creature. He could not accept Maxime’s offer.

“One word, I pray you,” he said. “Suppose I lose my free will, and surrender absolutely; what will become of me?”

Brevan looked at him with an air of pity, and said,—

“Not much will happen to you; only”—

And then he added with almost sternness, mixed with bitter sarcasm,—

“You ask me for your horoscope? Be it so. Have you a large fortune?”

“About fifty thousand dollars.”

“Well, in six months they will be gone; in a year you will be overwhelmed with debts, and at your wits’ end; in less than a year and a half, you will have become a forger.”

“Maxime!”

“Ah! You asked me to tell you the truth. Then, as to your social position. Now it is excellent; you have been promoted as rapidly as merit could claim, everybody says. You will be an admiral one of these days. But in six months you will be nothing at all; you will have resigned your commission, or you will have been dismissed.”

“Allow me”—

“No. You are an honest man, the most honorable man I know; after six months’ acquaintance with Sarah Brandon, you will have lost your self- respect so completely, that you will have become a drunkard. There is your picture. ‘It’s not flattered!’ you will say. But you wanted to have it. And now let us go.”

This time he was determined; and Daniel saw that he