La clique dorée. English, Page 4

  IV.

  When Henrietta saw how the young officer was overcome by the meremention of that name, Sarah Brandon, she felt the blood turn to ice inher veins. She knew perfectly well that a man like Daniel was not likelyto be so utterly overwhelmed unless there was something fearful, unheardof, in the matter.

  "Do you know the woman, Daniel?"

  But he, regretting his want of self-possession, was already thinking howhe could make amends for his imprudence.

  "I swear to you," he began.

  "Oh, don't swear! I see you know who she is."

  "I know nothing about her."

  "But"--

  "It is true I have heard people talk of her once, a _long time ago_."

  "Whom?"

  "One of my friends, Maxime de Brevan, a fine, noble fellow."

  "What sort of a woman is she?"

  "Ah, me! that I cannot tell you. Maxime happened to mention her justin passing; and I never thought that one of these days I should--IfI seemed to be so very much surprised just now, it was because Iremembered, all of a sudden, a very ugly story in which Maxime said shehad been involved, and then"--

  He was ridiculous in his inability to tell a fib; so, when he found thathe was talking nonsense, he turned his head away to avoid Henrietta'seyes. She interrupted him, and said reproachfully,--

  "Do you really think I am not strong enough to hear the truth?"

  At first he did not reply. Overcome by the strange position in which hefound himself, he looked for a way to escape, and found none. At last hesaid,--

  "Miss Henrietta, you must give me time before I tell you any more. Iknow nothing positive; and I dare say I am unnecessarily alarmed. I willtell you all as soon as I am better informed."

  "When will that be?"

  "To-night, if I can find Maxime de Brevan at home, as I hope I shall do;if I miss him, you must wait till to-morrow."

  "And if your suspicions turn out to be well founded; if what you fear,and hide from me now, is really so,--what must I do then?"

  Without a moment's hesitation, he rose and said in a solemn voice,--

  "I am not going to tell you again how I love you, Henrietta; I am notgoing to tell you that to lose you would be death to me, and that in ourfamily we do not value life very highly; you know that, don't you? But,in spite of all that, if my fears should be well founded, as I apprehendthey are, I should not hesitate to say to you, whatever might be theconsequences, Henrietta, and even if we should have to part forever, wemust try our utmost, we must employ all possible means in our power, toprevent a marriage between Count Ville-Handry and Sarah Brandon."

  In spite of all her sufferings, Henrietta felt her heart bounding withunspeakable happiness and joy. Ah! he deserved to be loved,--this manwhom her heart had freely chosen among them all,--this man who gave hersuch an overwhelming proof of his love. She offered him her hand; and,with her eyes beaming with enthusiasm and tenderness, she said,--

  "And I, I swear by the sacred memory of my mother, that whatever mayhappen, and whatever force they may choose to employ, I shall neverbelong to any one but to you."

  Daniel had seized her hand, and held it for some time pressed to hislips. At last, when his rapture gave way to calmer thoughts, he said,--

  "I must leave you at once, Henrietta, if I want to catch Maxime."

  As he left, his head was in a whirl, his thoughts in a maze. His lifeand his happiness were at stake; and a single word would decide his fatein spite of all he could do.

  A cab was passing; he hailed it, jumped in, and cried to the driver,--

  "Go quick, I say! You shall have five francs! No. 61 Rue Laffitte!"

  That was the house where Maxime de Brevan lived.

  He was a man of thirty or thirty-five years, remarkably well made,light-haired, wearing a full beard, with a bright eye, and pleasingface. Mixing on intimate terms with the men who make up what is calledhigh life, and with whom pleasure is the only occupation, he was verypopular with them all. They said he was a man that could always berelied upon, at all times ready to render you a service when it wasin his power, a pleasant companion, and an excellent second whenever afriend had to fight a duel.

  In fine, neither slander nor calumny had ever attacked his reputation.And yet, far from following the advice of the philosopher, who tells usto keep our life from the eye of the public, Maxime de Brevan seemed totake pains to let everybody into his secrets. He was so anxious to telleverybody where he had been, and what he had been doing, that you mighthave imagined he was always preparing to prove an alibi.

  Thus he told the whole world that the Brevans came originally from theprovince of Maine, and that he was the last, the sole representative,of that old family. Not that he prided himself particularly on hisancestors; he acknowledged frankly that there was very little left oftheir ancient splendor; in fact, nothing but a bare support. But henever said what this "support" amounted to; his most intimate friendscould not tell whether he had one thousand or ten thousand a year. Somuch only was certain, that, to his great honor and glory, he had solvedthe great problem of preserving his independence and his dignity whileassociating, a comparatively poor man, with the richest young men ofParis.

  His rooms were simple and unpretending; and he kept but a singleservant--his carriage he hired by the month.

  How had Maxime Brevan become Daniel's friend? In the simplest possibleway. They had been introduced to each other at a great ball by a commonfriend of theirs, a lieutenant in the navy. About one o'clock inthe morning they had gone home together; and as the moon was shiningbrightly, the weather was mild, and the walking excellent, they hadloitered about the Place de la Concorde while smoking their cigars.

  Had Maxime really felt such warm sympathy for his friend? Perhaps so. Atall events, Daniel had been irresistibly attracted by the peculiar waysof Maxime, and especially by the cool stoicism with which he spokeof his genteel poverty. Then they had met again, and finally becameintimate.

  Brevan was just dressing for the opera when Daniel entered his room. Heuttered a cry of delight when he saw him, as he always did.

  "What!" he said, "the hermit student from the other side of the riverin this worldly region, and at this hour? What good wind blows you overhere?"

  Then, suddenly noticing Daniel's terrified appearance, he added,--

  "But what am I talking about? You look frightened out of your wits.What's the matter?"

  "A great misfortune, I fear," replied Daniel.

  "How so? What is it?"

  "And I want you to help me."

  "Don't you know that I am at your service?"

  Daniel certainly thought so.

  "I thank you in advance, my dear Maxime; but I do not wish to give youtoo much trouble. I have a long story to tell you, and you are justgoing out"--

  But Brevan interrupted him, shaking his head kindly, and saying,--

  "I was only going out for want of something better to do, upon my word!So sit down, and tell me all."

  Daniel had been so overcome by terror, and the fear that he mightpossibly lose Henrietta, that he had run to his friend withoutconsidering what he was going to tell him. Now, when the moment came tospeak, he was silent. The thought had just occurred to him, that CountVille-Handry's secret was not his own, and that he was in duty bound notto betray it, if possible, even if he could have absolutely relied uponhis friend's discretion.

  He did not reply, therefore, but walked up and down the room, seeking invain some plausible excuse, and suffering perfect agony. This continuedso long, that Maxime, who had of late heard much of diseases of thebrain, 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 anycircumstances, say to any human being a word of what I am going to tellyou."

  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 hadrecovered sufficient control over himself, he said,--

  "Some months ago, my dear friend, I heard you telling somebody ahorrible 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 wordswere uttered.

  "All right, then. Now, Maxime, I conjure you, by our friendship, tellme frankly what you think of her. What kind of a woman is this MissBrandon?"

  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 tome."

  Brevan, struck by a sudden thought, touched his forehead, andexclaimed,--

  "Oh, I see! You are in love with Sarah!"

  Daniel would never have thought of such a subterfuge in order to avoidmentioning the name of Count Ville-Handry; but, seeing it thus offeredto 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 painfulconviction,--

  "In that case you are right. You ought to inquire; for you may be closeupon a terrible misfortune."

  "Ah, is she really so formidable?"

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

  "I should think so."

  There seemed to be no reason why Daniel should persist in his questionsafter 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 quietlife, 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 tolovers 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 tellyou that this Sarah is a wretched creature, an infamous forger, who hasalready the death of three poor devils on her conscience, who loved heras you do? Suppose I told you worse things than these, and could provethem? Do you know what would happen? You would press my hand witheffusion. You would overwhelm me with thanks, tears in your eye. Youwould 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 toclear 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 aswe have a spark of commonsense left, we are not really in love. That isso, I tell you; and no will, no amount of energy, can do any thing withit. There are people who tell you soberly that they have been in lovewithout losing their senses, and reproach you for not keeping cool.Bosh! Those people remind me of still champagne blaming sparklingchampagne for popping off the cork. And now, my dear fellow, have thekindness to accept this cigar, and let us take a walk."

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

  Oh, no, no! Brevan had been speaking of another kind of love,--a loveneither pure nor chaste. He spoke of those passions which suddenlystrike us down like lightning; which confound our senses, and misleadour judgment; which destroy every thing, as fire does, and leave nothingbehind but disaster and disgrace and remorse.

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

  "One word, I pray you," he said. "Suppose I lose my free will, andsurrender 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 beoverwhelmed with debts, and at your wits' end; in less than a year and ahalf, you will have become a forger."

  "Maxime!"

  "Ah! You asked me to tell you the truth. Then, as to your socialposition. Now it is excellent; you have been promoted as rapidly asmerit could claim, everybody says. You will be an admiral one of thesedays. But in six months you will be nothing at all; you will haveresigned your commission, or you will have been dismissed."

  "Allow me"--

  "No. You are an honest man, the most honorable man I know; after sixmonths' acquaintance with Sarah Brandon, you will have lost your self-respect so completely, that you will have become a drunkard. There isyour picture. 'It's not flattered!' you will say. But you wanted to haveit. And now let us go."

  This time he was determined; and Daniel saw that he would not obtainanother word from him, unless he changed his tactics. He held him back,therefore, a moment; and, as he opened the door, he said,--

  "Maxime, you must pardon me a very innocent deception, which wassuggested by your own words. It is not I who am in love with Miss SarahBrandon."

  Brevan was so much surprised, he could not stir.

  "Who is it, then?" he asked.

  "One of my friends."

  "What name?"

  "I wish you would render the service I ask of you doubly valuable by notasking me that question,--at least, not to-day."

  Daniel spoke with such an accent of truth, that not a shadow of doubtremained on Maxime's mind. It was not Daniel who had fallen in love withSarah Brandon. Brevan did not doubt that for a moment. But he could notconceal his trouble, and his disappointment even, as he exclaimed,--

  "Well done, Daniel! Tell me that your ingenuous people cannot deceiveanybody!"

  However, he said nothing more about it; and, while Daniel was pouringout his excuses, he quietly went back to the fire, and sat down. After amoment's silence, he began again,--

  "Let us assume, then, that it is one of your friends who is bewitched?"

  "Yes."

  "And the matter is--serious?"

  "Alas! He talks of marrying that woman."

  Maxime shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and said,--

  "As to that, console yourself. Sarah will never consent."

  "So far from that, she herself has made the suggestion."

  This time, Maxime raised his head suddenly, and looked stupefied.

  "Then your friend must be very rich."

  "He is immensely rich."

  "He bears a great name, and holds a high position?"

  "His name is one of the oldest and noblest in the province of Anjou."

  "And he is a very old man?"

  "He is sixty-five."

  Brevan struck the marble slab of the mantlepiece with his fist so thatit shook, and exclaimed,--

  "Ah, she told me she would succeed!"

  And then he added in a very low tone of voice, as if speaking to himselfwith an indescribable accent of mingled admiration and hatred,--

  "What a woman! Oh, what a woman!"

  Daniel, who was himself greatly excited, and far too busy with his ownthoughts to observe what was going on, did not notice the excitement ofhis friend; he continued quietly,-
-

  "Now you will understand my great curiosity. In order to prevent thescandal of such a marriage, my friend's family would do every thing inthe world. But how can you attack a woman of whose antecedents and modeof life nothing is known?"

  "Yes, I understand," said Brevan,--"I understand."

  His features betrayed that he was making a great mental effort. Heremained for some time absorbed in his thoughts; and at last he said, asif coming to a decision,--

  "No, I do not see any way to prevent this marriage; none at all."

  "Still, from what you told me"--

  "What!"

  "About the cupidity of this woman."

  "Well?"

  "If she were offered a large sum, some eighty or a hundred thousanddollars?"

  Maxime laughed out loud; but there was not the true ring in hislaughter.

  "You might offer her two hundred thousand, and she would laugh at you.Do you think she would be fool enough to content herself with a fractionof a fortune, if she can have the whole, with a great name and a highposition into the bargain?"

  Daniel opened his lips to present another suggestion; but Maxime, layingaside his usual half-dreamy, mocking manner, said, as if roused by amatter of great personal interest,--

  "You do not understand me, my dear friend. Miss Brandon is not one ofthose vulgar hawks, who, in broad daylight, seize upon a poor pigeon,pluck it alive, and cast it aside, still living, and bleeding all over."

  "Then, Maxime, she must be"--

  "Well, I tell you you misapprehend her. Miss Brandon"--

  He stopped suddenly, and looking at Daniel with a glance with whicha judge examines the features of a criminal, he added in an almostthreatening voice,--

  "By telling you what little I know about her, Daniel, I give you thehighest proof of confidence which one man can give to another. I loveyou too dearly to exact your promise to be discreet. If you ever mentionmy name in connection with this affair, if you ever let any one suspectthat you learned what I am going to tell you from me, you will dishonoryourself."

  Daniel, deeply moved, seized his friend's hand, and, pressing it mostaffectionately, said,--

  "Ah, you know Daniel Champcey is to be relied upon."

  Maxime knew it; for he continued,--

  "Miss Sarah Brandon is one of those female cosmopolitan adventurers,whom steam brings nowadays to us from all the four quarters of theworld. Like so many others, she, also, has come to Paris to spread hernet, and catch her birds, But she is made of finer stuff than most ofthem, and more clever. Her ambition soars higher; and she possesses areal genius for intrigues. She means to have a fortune, and is willingto pay any price for it; but she is also desirous to be respected in theworld.

  "I should not be surprised if anybody told me Miss Sarah was born withinten miles of Paris; but she calls herself an American. The fact is,she speaks English like an Englishwoman, and knows a great deal more ofAmerica than you know of Paris. I have heard her tell the story ofher family to a large and attentive audience; but I do not say that Ibelieved it.

  "According to her own account, M. Brandon, her father, a thoroughbredYankee, was a man of great enterprise and energy, who was ten timesrich, and as often wretchedly poor again in his life, but died leavingseveral millions. This Brandon, she says, was a banker and broker in NewYork when the civil war broke out. He entered the army, and in less thansix months, thanks to his marvellous energy, he rose to be a general.When peace came, he was without occupation, and did not know what onearth to do with himself. Fortunately, his good star led him into aregion where large tracts of land happened to be for sale. He boughtthem for a few thousand dollars, and soon after discovered on hispurchase the most productive oil-wells in all America. He was just aboutto be another Peabody when a fearful accident suddenly ended hislife; he was burnt in an enormous fire that destroyed one of hisestablishments.

  "As to her mother, Miss Sarah says she lost her when she was quiteyoung, in a most romantic, though horrible manner"--

  "What!" broke in Daniel, "has nobody taken the trouble to ascertain ifall these statements are true?"

  "I am sure I do not know. This much is certain, that sometimes curiousfacts leak out. For instance, I have fallen in with Americans who haveknown a broker Brandon, a Gen. Brandon, a Petroleum Brandon."

  "He may have borrowed the name."

  "Certainly, especially when the original man is said to have died inAmerica. However, Miss Brandon has been living now for five years inParis. She came here accompanied by a Mrs. Brian, a relative of hers,who is the dryest, boniest person you can imagine, but at the same timethe slyest woman I have ever seen. She also brought with her a kindof protector, a Mr. Thomas Elgin, also a relation of hers, a mostextraordinary man, stiff like a poker, but evidently a dangerous man,who never opens his mouth except when he eats. He is a famous hand atsmall-swords, however, and snuffs his candle, nine times out of ten, ata distance of thirty yards. This Mr. Thomas Elgin, whom the world callsfamiliarly Sir Thorn, and Mrs. Brian, always stay with Miss Sarah.

  "When she first arrived, Miss Sarah established herself in a house nearthe Champs Elysees, which she furnished most sumptuously. Sir Thorn, whois a jockey of the first water, had discovered a pair of gray horses forher which made a sensation at the Bois de Boulogne, and drew everybody'sattention to their fair owner. Heaven knows how she had managed to geta number of letters of introduction. But certainly two or three of themost influential members of the American colony here received her attheir houses. After that, all was made easy. Gradually she crept intosociety; and now she is welcome almost everywhere, and visits, not onlyat the best houses, but even in certain families which have a reputationof being quite exclusive.

  "In fine, if she has enemies, she has also fanatic partisans. If somepeople say she is a wretch, others--and they are by no means the leastclever--tell you that she is an angel, only wanting wings to fly awayfrom this wicked world. They talk of her as of a poor little orphan-girl, whom people slander atrociously because they envy her youth, herbeauty, her splendor."

  "Ah, is she so rich?"

  "Miss Brandon spends at least twenty thousand dollars a year."

  "And no one inquires where they come from?"

  "From her sainted father's petroleum-wells, my dear fellow. Petroleumexplains everything."

  Brevan seemed to feel a kind of savage delight in seeing Daniel'sdespair, and in explaining to him most minutely how solidly, andhow skilfully Miss Sarah Brandon's position in the world had beenestablished. Had he any expectation to prevent a struggle with her byexaggerating her strength? Or rather, knowing Daniel as he did,--farbetter, unfortunately, than he was known by him,--was he trying toirritate him more and more against this formidable adversary?

  At all events, he continued in that icy tone which gives to sarcasm itsgreatest bitterness,--

  "Besides, my dear Daniel, if you are ever introduced at MissBrandon's,--and I pray you will believe me, people are not so easilyintroduced there,--you will be dumfounded at first by the tone thatprevails in that house. The air is filled with a perfume of hypocrisywhich would rejoice the stiffest of Quakers. Cant rules supreme there,putting a lock to the mouth, and a check to the eyes."

  Daniel began evidently to be utterly bewildered.

  "But how, how can you reconcile that," he said, "with the thoroughlyworldly life of Miss Brandon?"

  "Oh, very easily, my dear fellow! and there you see the sublime policyof the three rogues. To the outer world, Miss Brandon is all levity,indiscretion, coquettishness, and even worse. She drives herself,shortens her petticoats, and cuts down her dress-bodies atrociously. Shesays she has a right to do as she pleases, according to the code of lawswhich govern American young ladies. But at home she bows to the tasteand the wishes of her relative, Mrs. Brian, who displays all the extremeprudishness of the austerest Puritan. Then she has that stiff, tall SirThorn ever at her side, who never jokes. Oh! they understand each otherperfectly; the parts are carefully distributed, and"--

&n
bsp; Daniel showed that he was utterly discouraged.

  "There is no way, then, of getting hold of this woman?" he asked.

  "I think not."

  "But that adventure of which you spoke some time ago?"

  "Which? That with poor Kergrist?"

  "How do I know which? It was a fearful story; that is all I remember.What did I, at that time, care for Miss Brandon? Now, to be sure"--

  Brevan shook his head, and said,--

  "Now, you think that story might become a weapon in your hands? No,Daniel. Still it is not a very long one; and I can now tell it to youmore in detail than I could before.

  "About fifteen months ago, there arrived in Paris a nice young mancalled Charles de Kergrist. He had lost as yet none of his illusions,being barely twenty-five years old, and having something like a hundredthousand dollars of his own. He saw Miss Brandon, and instantly 'tookfire.' He fell desperately in love with her. What his relations werewith her, no one can tell positively,--I mean with sufficient evidenceto carry conviction to others,--for the young man was a model ofdiscretion. But what became only too well known was the fact, that,about eight months later, the people living near Miss Brandon's housesaw one morning, when the shutters were opened, a corpse dangling at adistance of a few feet above the ground from the iron fastenings of thelady's window. Upon inspection, the dead man proved to be that unluckyKergrist. In the pocket of his overcoat a letter was found, in which hedeclared that he committed suicide because an unreturned affection hadmade life unbearable to him. Now, this letter--mark the fact--was open;that is to say, it had been sealed, and the seal was broken."

  "By whom?"

  "Let me finish. The accident, as you may imagine, made a tremendousnoise. The family took it up. An inquest was held; and it was found thatthe hundred thousand dollars which Kergrist had brought with him hadutterly disappeared."

  "And Miss Brandon's reputation was not ruined?"

  Maxime replied with a bitter, ironical smile,--

  "You know very well that she was not. On the contrary, the hanging wasturned by her partisans into an occasion for praising her marvellousvirtuousness. 'If she had been weak,' they said, 'Kergrist would nothave hanged himself. Besides,' they added, 'how can a girl, be she everso pure and innocent, prevent her lovers from hanging themselves ather windows? As to the money,' they said, 'it had been lost at thegaming-table.' Kergrist was reported to have been seen at Baden-Badenand at Homburg; no doubt he played."

  "And the world was content with such an explanation?"

  "Yes; why not? To be sure, some sceptical persons told the whole storyvery differently. According, to their account, Miss Sarah had been themistress of M. de Kergrist, and, seeing him utterly ruined, had senthim off one fine morning. They stated, that, the evening before theaccident, he had come to the house at the usual hour, and, findingit closed, had begged, and even wept, and finally threatened to killhimself; that, thereupon, he had really killed himself; (poor fool thathe was!) that Miss Brandon, concealed behind the blinds, had watched allhis preparations for the fearful act; that she had seen him fasten therope to the outside hinges of her window, put the noose around hisneck, and then swing off into eternity; that she had watched him closelyduring his agony, and stood there till the last convulsions had passedaway."

  "Horrible!" whispered Daniel,--"too horrible!"

  But Maxime seized him by the arm, and pressing it so as almost to hurthim, said in a low, hoarse voice,--

  "That is not the worst yet. As soon as she saw that Kergrist wassurely dead, she slipped down stairs like a cat, opened the house-doornoiselessly, and, gliding stealthily along the wall till she reached thebody, she actually searched the still quivering corpse to assure herselfthat there was nothing in the pockets that could possibly compromiseher. Finding the last letter of Kergrist, she took it away with her,broke the seal, and read it; and, having found that her name was notmentioned in it, she had the amazing audacity to return to the body, andto put the letter back where she had found it. Then only she breathedfreely. She had gotten rid of a man whom she feared. She went to bed,and slept soundly."

  Daniel had become livid.

  "That woman is a monster!" he exclaimed.

  Brevan said nothing. His eyes shone with intense hatred; his lips werequivering with indignation. He no longer thought of discretion, ofcaution. He forgot himself, and gave himself up to his feelings.

  "But I have not done yet, Daniel," he said, after a pause. "There isanother crime on record, of older date. The first appearance of MissBrandon in Paris society. You ought to know that also.

  "One evening, about four years ago, the president of the Mutual DiscountSociety came into the cashier's room to tell him, that, on the followingday, the board of directors would examine his books. The cashier, anunfortunate man by the name of Malgat, replied that every thing wasready; but, the moment the president had turned his back, he took asheet of paper, and wrote something like this:--

  "'Forgive me, I have been an honest man forty years long; now a fatalpassion has made me mad. I have drawn money from the bank which wasintrusted to my care; and, in order to screen my defalcations, I haveforged several notes. I cannot conceal my crime any longer. The firstdefalcation is only six months old. The whole amount is about fourhundred thousand francs. I cannot bear the disgrace which I haveincurred; in an hour I shall have ceased to live.'

  "Malgat put this letter in a prominent place on his desk, and thenrushed out, without a cent in his pocket, to throw himself into thecanal. But when he reached the bank, and saw the foul, black water, hewas frightened. For hours and hours he walked up and down, asking God inhis madness for courage. He never found that courage.

  "But what was he to do? He could not flee, having no money; and whereshould he hide? He could not return to his bank; for there, by thistime, his crime must have become known. In his despair he ran as far asthe Champs Elysees, and late in the night he knocked at the door of MissBrandon's house.

  "They did not know yet what had happened, and he was admitted. Then, inhis wild despair, he told them all, begging them to give him a couple ofhundreds only of the four hundred thousand which he had stolen in orderto give them to Miss Brandon,--a hundred only, to enable him to escapeto Belgium.

  "They refused. And when he begged and prayed, falling on his kneesbefore Miss Sarah, Sir Thorn seized him by the shoulders, and turned himout of the house."

  Maxime, overcome by his intense excitement, fell into an easy-chair,and remained there for a considerable time, his eyes fixed, his browdarkened, repenting himself, no doubt, of his candor, his wrath, and hisforgetfulness of all he owed to himself and to others.

  But, when he rose again, his rare strength of will enabled him to assumehis usual phlegmatic manner; and he continued in a mocking tone,--

  "I see in your face, Daniel, that you think the story is monstrous,improbable, almost impossible. Nevertheless, four years ago, it wasbelieved all over Paris, and set off by a number of hideous detailswhich I will spare you. If you care to look at the papers of that year,you will find it everywhere. But four years are four centuries in Paris.To say nothing of the many similar stories that have happened since."

  Daniel said nothing, he only bowed his head sadly. He felt a kind ofpainful emotion, such as he had never before experienced in his life.

  "It is not so much the story itself," he said at last, "that overcomesme so completely. What I cannot comprehend is, how this woman couldrefuse the man whose accomplice she had been the small pittance herequired in order to evade justice, and to escape to Belgium."

  "Nevertheless, that was so," repeated M. de Brevan; and then he addedemphatically, "at least, they say so."

  Daniel did not notice this attempt to become more cautious again. Hecontinued pensively,--

  "Is it not very improbable that Miss Brandon should not have beenafraid to exasperate the unfortunate man, and to drive him to desperatemeasures? In his furious rage, he might have left the house, rushed to apolice-officer, and confessed t
o him every thing, laying the evidence hehad in his hands before a magistrate, and"--

  "You say," replied Brevan, interrupting him with a dry, sardonic laugh,"precisely what all the advocates of the fair American said at thattime. But I tell you, that her peculiarity is exactly the daring withwhich she ventures upon the most dangerous steps. She does not pretendto avoid difficulties; she crushes them. Her prudence consists incarrying imprudence to the farthest limits."

  "But"--

  "You ought to credit her, besides, with sufficient astuteness andexperience to know that she had taken the most careful precautions,having destroyed every evidence of her own complicity, and feeling quitesafe in that direction. Moreover, she had studied Malgat's character,as she studied afterwards Kergrist's. She was quite sure that neither ofthem would accuse her, even at the moment of death. And yet, in thecase of this Mutual Discount Society, her calculations did not proveabsolutely correct."

  "How so?"

  "It became known that she had received Malgat two or three timessecretly, for he did not openly enter her house; and the penny papershad it, that 'the fair stranger was no stranger to small peculations.'Public opinion was veering around, when it was reported that shehad been summoned to appear before a magistrate. That, however, wasfortunate for her; she came out from the trial whiter and purer thanAlpine snow."

  "Oh!"

  "And so perfectly cleared, that, when the whole matter was brought up incourt, she was not even summoned as a witness."

  Daniel started up, and exclaimed,--

  "What! Malgat had the sublime self-abnegation to undergo the agonies ofa trial, and the infamy of a condemnation, without allowing a word toescape?"

  "No. For the simple reason that Malgat was sentenced _in contumaciam_ toten years in the penitentiary."

  "And what has become of the poor wretch?"

  "Who knows? They say he killed himself. Two months later, a halfdecomposed body was found in the forest of Saint Germain, which peopledeclared to be Malgat. However"--

  He had become livid, in his turn; but he continued in an almostinaudible voice, as if to meet Daniel's objections before they wereexpressed,--

  "However, somebody who used to be intimate with Malgat has assured methat he met him one day in Dronot Street, before the great auction-mart. The man said he recognized him, although he seemed to be mostartistically disguised. This is what has set me thinking more than once,that, if people were not mistaken, a day might, after all, yet come,when Miss Sarah would have a terrible bill to settle with her implacablecreditor."

  He passed his hand across his brow as if to drive away suchuncomfortable thoughts, and then said with a forced laugh,--

  "Now, my dear fellow, I have come to the end of my budget. The detailswere all given me by Miss Sarah's friends as well as by her enemies.Some you may read of in the papers; but most I know from my own long andpatient observation. And, if you ask me what interest I could have inknowing such a woman, I will tell you frankly, that you see before youone of her victims; for my dear Daniel, I have to confess it, I alsohave been in love with her; and how! But I was too small a personage,and too poor a devil, to be worth a serious thought of Miss Brandon.As soon as she felt sure that her abominable tricks had set my head onfire, and that I had become an idiot, a madman, a stupid fool--on thatvery day she laughed in my face. Ah! I tell you, she played with meas if I had been a child, and then she sent me off as if I had been alackey. And now I hate her mortally, as I loved her almost criminally.Therefore, if I can help you, in secret, without becoming known, you maycount upon me."

  Why should Daniel have doubted the truthfulness of his friend'sstatements? Had he not himself, and quite voluntarily, confessed hisown folly, his own love, anticipating all questions, and making a cleanbreast of the whole matter?

  Not a doubt, therefore, arose in Daniel's mind. On the contrary, hethanked God for having sent him such an ally, such a friend, who hadlived long enough amid all these intrigues of Parisian high life to knowall its secret springs, and to guide him safely. He took Maxime's handin his own, and said with deep feeling,--

  "Now, my friend, we are bound to each other for life."

  Brevan seemed deeply touched; he raised his hand as if to wipe a tearfrom his eyes. But he was not a man to give way to tender feelings. Hesaid,--

  "But how about your friend? How can we prevent his marrying Miss Sarah?Does any way occur to you? No? Ah! you see, it will be hard work."

  He seemed to meditate deeply for a few moments; then uttering his wordsslowly and emphatically, as if to lend them their full weight, andimpress them forcibly on Daniel's mind, he resumed,--

  "We must attack Miss Brandon herself, if we want to master thesituation. If we could once know who she really is, all would be safe.Fortunately there is no difficulty in Paris in finding spies, if youhave money enough."

  As the clock on the mantlepiece struck half-past ten, he started andstopped. He jumped up as if suddenly inspired by a bright idea, and saidhurriedly,--

  "But now I think of it, Daniel, you do not know Miss Brandon; you havenever even seen her!"

  "No, indeed!"

  "Well, that's a pity. We must know our enemies; how else can we evensmile at them? I want you to see Miss Sarah."

  "But who will point her out to me? where? when?"

  "I will do it to-night, at the opera. I bet she will be there!"

  Daniel was in evening costume, having called upon Henrietta, and then hewas all ready.

  "Very well," he said, "I am willing."

  Without losing a moment, they went out, and reached the theatre justas the curtain rose on the fourth act of Don Giovanni. They were,fortunately, able to secure two orchestra-chairs. The stage wasgorgeous; but what did they care for the singer on the boards, or thedivine music of Mozart? Brevan took his opera-glasses out, and rapidlysurveying the house, he had soon found what he was looking for. Hetouched Daniel with his elbow, and, handing him the glasses, whisperedin his ear,--

  "Look there, in the third box from the stage; look, there she is!"