Read Ebook: Monsieur Lecoq v. 2 by Gaboriau Emile

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Ebook has 1675 lines and 121653 words, and 34 pages

Like all passionate men, M. Lacheneur overdid his part. This last remark was too much; it awakened a terrible suspicion in M. d'Escorval's mind. "Good heavens!" he thought, "does this wretched man meditate some crime?" He glanced at Chanlouineau, and his anxiety increased, for on hearing Lacheneur speak of the marquis and Marie-Anne, the stalwart young farmer had turned livid.

"It is decided," resumed Lacheneur with an air of unbounded satisfaction, "that they will give me the ten thousand francs bequeathed to me by Mademoiselle Armande. Moreover, I am to fix upon such a sum as I consider a just recompense for my services. And that is not all: they have offered me the position of manager at Sairmeuse; and I was to be allowed to occupy the game-keeper's cottage, where I lived so long. But on reflection I refused this offer. After having enjoyed a fortune which did not belong to me during so many years, I am now anxious to amass a fortune of my own."

"Would it be indiscreet in me to inquire what you intend to do?"

"Not the least in the world. I am going to turn pedlar."

M. d'Escorval could not believe his ears. "Pedlar?" he repeated.

"Yes, M. le Baron. Look, there is my pack in that corner."

"But that's absurd," exclaimed M. d'Escorval. "People can scarcely earn their daily bread in this way!"

"You are wrong, sir. I have considered the subject carefully; the profits are thirty per cent. And besides, there will be three of us to sell the goods, for I shall confide one pack to my son, and another to Chanlouineau."

"What! Chanlouineau?"

"He has become my partner in the enterprise."

"And his farm--who will take care of that?"

"He will employ day labourers." And then, as if wishing to make M. d'Escorval understand that his visit had lasted quite long enough, Lacheneur began arranging such of the little packages as were intended for his own pack.

But the baron was not to be got rid of so easily, especially now that his suspicions had almost ripened into certainty. "I must speak with you alone," he said in a curt tone.

M. Lacheneur turned round. "I am very busy," he replied with evident reluctance of manner.

"I only ask for five minutes. But if you haven't the time to spare to-day, I can return to-morrow--the day after to-morrow--or any day when I can see you in private."

Lacheneur saw plainly that it would be impossible to escape this interview, so with a gesture of a man who resigns himself to a necessity, he bade his son and Chanlouineau withdraw.

They left the room, and as soon as the door had closed behind them, Lacheneur exclaimed: "I know very well, M. le Baron, the arguments you intend to advance; and the reason of your coming. You come to ask me again for Marie-Anne. I know that my refusal has nearly killed Maurice. Believe me, I have suffered cruelly at the thought; but my refusal is none the less irrevocable. There is no power in the world capable of changing my resolution. Don't ask my motives; I cannot reveal them; but rest assured that they are sufficiently weighty."

"Are we not your friends?" asked M. d'Escorval.

"You--!" exclaimed Lacheneur with affectionate cordiality--"ah! You know it well!--you are the best, the only friends I have here below. I should be the greatest wretch living if I did not retain the recollection of your kindness until my eyes close in death. Yes, you are my friends, yes, I am devoted to you--and it is for that very reason, that I answer your proposals with no, no, never!"

There was no longer any room for doubt. M. d'Escorval seized Lacheneur's hands, and almost crushing them in his grasp, "Unfortunate man!" he exclaimed, "What do you intend to do? Of what terrible vengeance are you dreaming!"

"Oh! do not swear. You cannot deceive a man of my age and of my experience. I divine your intentions--you hate the Sairmeuse family more mortally than ever."

"Yes, you; and if you pretend to forget the way they treated you, it is only that they may forget it. These people have offended you too cruelly not to fear you; you understand this, and you are doing all in your power to reassure them. You accept their advances--you kneel before them--why? Because they will be more completely in your power when you have lulled their suspicions to rest; and then you can strike them more surely--"

He paused; the door of the front room opened, and Marie-Anne appeared upon the threshold. "Father," said she, "Here is the Marquis de Sairmeuse."

The mention of this name at such a juncture was so ominously significant that M. d'Escorval could not restrain a gesture of surprise and fear. "He dares to come here!" he thought. "What, is he not afraid the very walls will fall and crush him?"

Neither agitation nor anger could be detected in his voice; but rather, a respectful deference and a feeling of profound gratitude. Having spoken in this fashion he closed the door again and turned to M. d'Escorval. The baron, still standing with folded arms, had witnessed this scene with the air of a man who distrusts the evidence of his own senses; and yet he understood the meaning of the incident only too well. "So this young man comes here?" he said to Lacheneur.

"Almost every day--not at this hour usually, but a trifle later."

"And you receive him? You welcome him?"

"Certainly. How can I be insensible to the honour he confers upon me? Moreover, we have subjects of mutual interest to discuss. We are now occupied in legalising the restitution of Sairmeuse. I can also give him much useful information, and many hints regarding the management of the property."

"And do you expect to make me, your old friend, believe that a man of your superior intelligence is deceived by the excuses the marquis makes for these frequent visits? Look me in the eye, and then tell me, if you dare, that you believe these visits are addressed to you!"

Lacheneur's glance did not waver. "To whom else could they be addressed?" he inquired.

This obstinate serenity disappointed the baron's expectations. He could not have received a heavier blow. "Take care Lacheneur," he said sternly. "Think of the situation in which you place your daughter, between Chanlouineau, who wishes to make her his wife, and M. de Sairmeuse, who hopes to make her--"

"Who hopes to make her his mistress--is that what you mean? Oh, say the word. But what does that matter? I am sure of Marie-Anne."

M. d'Escorval shuddered. "In other words," said he, in bitter indignation, "you make your daughter's honour and reputation your stake in the game you are playing."

This was too much. Lacheneur could restrain his furious passion no longer. "Well, yes!" he exclaimed, with a frightful oath; "yes, you have spoken the truth. Marie-Anne must be, and will be the instrument of my plans. A man in my situation is free from the considerations by which others are guided. Fortune, friends, life, honour--I have been forced to sacrifice everything. Perish my daughter's virtue--perish my daughter herself--what do they signify if I can but succeed?"

Never had M. d'Escorval seen Lacheneur so excited. His eyes flashed, and as he spoke, shook his clenched fist wildly in the air, as though he were threatening some miserable enemy. "So you admit it," exclaimed M. d'Escorval; "you admit that you propose revenging yourself on the Sairmeuse family, and that Chanlouineau is to be your accomplice?"

"I admit nothing," Lacheneur replied. "Let me reassure you." Then raising his hand as if to take an oath, he added in a solemn voice: "Before God, who hears my word, by all that I hold sacred in this world, by the memory of the wife I loved and whom I mourn to-day, I swear to you, that I am plotting nothing against the Sairmeuse family; that I have no thought of touching a hair of their heads. I use them only because they are absolutely indispensable to me. They will aid me without injuring themselves."

For a moment the baron remained silent. He was evidently trying to reconcile Lacheneur's conflicting utterances. "How can one believe this assurance after your previous avowal?" he evidently enquired.

Lacheneur paused, as if expecting some further observation from the baron, but the latter remained silent, reflecting that the words he had just heard were substantially a repetition of what Marie-Anne had previously told him.

"There is still a wiser course you might pursue," resumed the ex-lord of Sairmeuse, after a brief interval. "Here in the district there is but little chance of your son's sorrow soon subsiding. Turn which way he will--alas, I know myself, that even the very trees and flowers will remind him of a happier time. So leave this neighborhood, take him with you, and go far away."

"Ah! how can I do that when Fouche has virtually imprisoned me here!"

"That I will never do," said M. d'Escorval proudly. His words and accent showing plainly enough how futile further discussion would be.

"Ah! you are like the Abbe Midon," sadly rejoined Lacheneur; "you won't believe me. Who knows how much your coming here this morning may cost you? It is said that no one can escape his destiny. But if some day the executioner lays his hand on your shoulder, remember that I warned you, and don't curse me for what may happen."

Lacheneur paused once more, and seeing that even this sinister prophecy produced no impression on the baron, he pressed his hand as if to bid him an eternal farewell, and opened the door to admit the Marquis de Sairmeuse. Martial was, perhaps, annoyed at meeting M d'Escorval; but he nevertheless bowed with studied politeness, and began a lively conversation with M. Lacheneur, telling him that the articles he had selected at the chateau were at that moment on their way.

M. d'Escorval could do no more. It was quite impossible for him to speak with Marie-Anne, over whom Chanlouineau and Jean were both jealously mounting guard. Accordingly, he reluctantly took his leave, and oppressed by cruel forebodings, slowly descended the hill which he had climbed an hour before so full of hope.

What should he say to Maurice? He was revolving this query in his mind and had just reached the little pine grove skirting the waste, when the sound of hurried footsteps behind induced him to look back. Perceiving to his great surprise that the young Marquis de Sairmeuse was approaching and motioning him to stop, the baron paused, wondering what Martial could possibly want of him.

The latter's features wore a most ingenuous air, as he hastily raised his hat and exclaimed: "I hope, sir, that you will excuse me for having followed you when you hear what I have to say. I do not belong to your party and our doctrines and preferences are very different. Still I have none of your enemies' passion and malice. For this reason I tell you that if I were in your place I would take a journey abroad. The frontier is but a few miles off; a good horse, a short gallop, and you have crossed it. A word to the wise is--salvation!"

Having thus spoken and without waiting for any reply, Martial abruptly turned and retraced his steps.

"One might suppose there was a conspiracy to drive me away!" murmured M. d'Escorval in his amazement. "But I have good reason to distrust this young man's disinterestedness." The young marquis was already far off. Had he been less preoccupied, he would have perceived two figures in the grove--Mademoiselle Blanche de Courtornieu, followed by the inevitable Aunt Medea, had come to play the spy.

The Marquis de Courtornieu idolised his daughter. This was alike an incontestable and an uncontested fact. When people spoke to him concerning the young lady they invariably exclaimed: "You who adore your daughter--" And in a like manner whenever the marquis spoke of her himself, he always contrived to say: "I who adore Blanche." In point of fact, however, he would have given a good deal, even a third of his fortune, to get rid of this smiling, seemingly artless girl, who, despite her apparent simplicity, had proved more than a match for him with all his diplomatic experience. Her fancies were legion, and however capricious they chanced to be it was useless to resist them. At one time he had hoped to ward his daughter off by inviting Aunt Medea to come and live at the chateau, but the weak-minded spinster had proved a most fragile barrier, and soon Blanche had returned to the charge more audacious and capricious than ever. Sometimes the marquis revolted, but nine times out of ten he paid dearly for his attempts at rebellion. When Blanche turned her cold, steel-like eyes upon him with a certain peculiar expression, his courage evaporated. Her weapon was irony; and knowing his weak points she dealt her blows with wonderful precision.

Such being the position of affairs, it is easy to understand how devoutly M. de Courtornieu prayed and hoped that some eligible young aristocrat would ask for his daughter's hand, and thus free him from bondage. He had announced on every side that he intended to give her a dowry of a million francs, a declaration which had brought a host of eager suitors to Courtornieu. But, unfortunately, though many of these wooers would have suited the marquis well enough, not one had been so fortunate as to please the capricious Blanche. Her father presented a candidate; she received him graciously, lavished all her charms upon him; but as soon as his back was turned, she disappointed all her father's hopes by rejecting him. "He is too short, or too tall. His rank is not equal to ours. He is a fool--his nose is so ugly." Such were the reasons she would give for her refusal; and from these summary decisions there was no appeal. Arguments and persuasion were alike useless. The condemned man had only to take himself off and be forgotten.

"I shall give my daughter a dowry of at least--yes, at least fifteen hundred thousand," replied M. de Courtornieu.

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