Paul and His Dog Volume Ii Part 59

"Of that what?"

"It is enough for you to know that on the day when you announce to me the ruin of those two women, I will cover you with gold, I will give you as much of it as you can carry."

"_Bigre!_ I'll be strong that day, I promise you!"

"It is broad daylight; don't stay here. By-and-by, about six o'clock this afternoon, be at the end of my park--on the lonely road that skirts the wall."

"Agreed; I will be there."

Croque left the villa, and Thelenie hastened to her apartment.

XXII

REVELATION

While all these events were taking place at Goldfish Villa, let us see what was happening in the modest abode of Honorine and Agathe.

Edmond's young betrothed was secretly unhappy at the thought that her beloved was going to Madame de Belleville's fete. She remembered how that lady had stared at her the first time that she saw her at the summer-house window, and the familiar tone in which she had spoken to Edmond.

The woman who is most innocent of intrigue has nevertheless a secret instinct which enables her to detect the sentiments which people try to conceal from her; and that instinct never deceives her in the matter of a rival.

Agathe, however, did not doubt the love or the fidelity of the man she loved; that was why, dreading to appear ridiculous if she allowed the apprehensions caused by Madame de Belleville's invitation to appear, she had been the first to urge him to attend the fete.

But that evening, as soon as Edmond had left them, to go home to dress, Agathe had gone up to her room, in order to conceal from Honorine the anxiety she felt.

Honorine had divined what was taking place in Agathe's heart; but she did not share her apprehensions. She thought that a woman ought never to abuse her influence over the man who loves her, by obliging him to do only what she wished. She imagined too that Edmond's presence at Madame de Belleville's would prevent the slanderous tongues of the village from making any unseemly remarks about herself and her young friend.

Honorine therefore was alone that evening in the small salon which opened into the garden; it was the first time that that had happened since she had lived at Ch.e.l.les. At that moment solitude was not irksome to her; when the heart has much to think about, it loves silence and repose. Honorine reflected that for several days their neighbor Paul had not called upon them. She wondered if it was possible that anything that she had said had displeased him; she could think of nothing to account for his absence, and the result of her cogitations was a deep sigh, and the reflection that she was thinking of someone who did not waste a thought on her.

The young woman, absorbed in her reverie, had long since let her embroidery fall from her hands, without being conscious that she had ceased to work, when of a sudden she felt something cold against her hand, then a heavy paw was laid on her lap; that was the way in which the dog from the Tower always said good-morning or good-evening. When she saw Ami fawning upon her, Honorine's heart beat fast with pleasure, and she patted the dog gently.

"Why, is that you, Ami? So you have found the road to this house again?

I was beginning to think that you had forgotten us altogether, and that we should not see you again!"

These words were addressed no less to the master than to the dog; and Paul, who appeared in the doorway, would have been very ungrateful if he had not taken them home to himself.

He bowed low to the young woman, saying:

"Is it not presumptuous in me, madame, to present myself here so late?"

"Why, no, monsieur; it is little more than nine o'clock, I think; and if you find me alone--which I very rarely am--it is because Agathe felt tired and sleepy. As for Monsieur Edmond, he is at a party, which fact accounts in some measure for Agathe's headache.--Now, monsieur, consider whether you have the courage to remain with one poor woman--who has nothing but her conversation to offer you."

Paul took a chair and seated himself at some distance from Honorine. On learning that he was to be alone with her, he seemed embarra.s.sed.

Luckily, Ami was there to enliven the interview; Honorine continued to caress him and said to him:

"How glad you seem to see me, Ami! But if it gives you so much pleasure to be with me, why don't you come oftener? You don't need to wait until it happens to occur to your master to come. If he doesn't enjoy himself here, he is right not to come; but you know the way, and I don't think that he objects to your coming here to show us that you haven't forgotten us."

"Surely you cannot think, madame, that I do not enjoy myself in your house; only in your pleasant company have I found at last some distraction from the sorrows which have made me shun society for many years."

"If that is so, how does it happen that we have not seen you for several days? You had accustomed us to your company of late; we made up our minds--too soon--that it would continue. There are habits which give one so much pleasure!"

Honorine's voice began to quiver, and she abruptly ceased speaking, in order to conceal the emotion she felt.

But Paul had drawn his chair nearer to hers; he gazed at the young woman with an expression which was not calculated to calm her agitation, and replied:

"I went to Paris several days ago. I had received some information which led me to believe that I had found the traces of a person whom I have sought in vain for nine years! But the information was misleading; my investigations were of no avail, and I have learned nothing."

"I shall be very presumptuous, I fear, if I ask you who this person is whom you have been seeking so long."

"It is a young girl; she must be about sixteen years old now."

"Ah! and this girl is your kinswoman, or perhaps even more than that?

Why shrink from admitting it? Men do many foolish things in their youth; they should never be ashamed to try to atone for them."

"You are mistaken, madame; this girl is no connection of mine; and yet, it is my duty to stand in a father's place to her, for I had the misfortune to deprive her of her father--in a duel."

"In a duel! Ah! I guessed as much; I understand it all now!"

"What? what did you guess?"

"This duel took place in the ravine yonder, by your estate of the Tower."

"That is true, madame. But who can have told you?"

"We had heard the story of a young man being found dead on that spot; no one knew whether he had been attacked there, but he had not been robbed; so that it was presumable that he was killed in a duel."

"Yes, madame, yes. Ah! that is the deed for which I can never forgive myself; for that unfortunate man had never offended me--he was the victim of an execrable plot. A woman--but I am not sure that one should give that name to such a monster of wickedness!--I loved her, I loved her madly! Our liaison had lasted three years. I was young, rich, independent; my father, Monsieur Duronceray, had left me more than thirty thousand francs a year, so that I could afford to make every sacrifice for that woman; I would have gone so far as to give her my hand and my name. But that woman deceived me. A man whom I believed to be my friend was secretly her lover; but in order to turn aside my suspicions more effectually, she played the flirt with other men; with one, among others, of whom I was jealous--for he was well adapted to seduce! he was young and rich and had every quality likely to attract and charm a woman. Ah! if he had chosen to respond to that woman's allurements, I am sure that she would have asked nothing better than to number him among her lovers. And it was to revenge herself for his indifference that she made him her victim.--But I ought to have been enlightened as to the real sentiments of those who surrounded me. My faithful Ami, my brave companion, had never been willing to bestow the slightest caress on the woman who betrayed me; far from it! he always manifested such an aversion for her, that I had ceased to take him with me when I went to see her. Whereas, whenever I was with that young man whom I believed to be my rival, Ami would run to him and display as much friendly feeling as he displayed just now for you. But at that time I did not know that the dog was so skilful in divining the sentiments that people entertained for his master; I attributed his behavior to caprice, and drew no other inference from it.

"At last, on a certain day--a fatal day, which I cannot recall without a shudder!--this woman, by the way, had hired a small country house near the village of Couberon--I went to her house in Paris; not finding her there, I suspected that she was in the country, and I hastened thither, torn in advance by a thousand suspicions, for she was not in the habit of going to Couberon without me.--I arrived. A lady's maid, who was doing sentry duty, saw me in the distance and hastened to warn her mistress. She instantly dismissed her lover, and learning that Comte Adhemar had just arrived----"

"Comte Adhemar! was that the name you said, monsieur?" cried Honorine, in the most intense excitement.

"Yes, madame, Comte Adhemar de Hautmont."

"Ah! that is the name! the very name!"

"Did you know him, madame?"

"Yes--that is to say, not I--But finish, monsieur! for heaven's sake, finish your story!"

"Well! on entering my mistress's room, I found her alone with the count, and apparently in the utmost confusion. Thereupon, blinded by jealousy, I overwhelmed her with reproaches. And she, instead of telling me that the man who was then with her was not her lover, had the perfidy to confirm my suspicions by some words which seemed to escape her involuntarily. I instantly insulted the count and demanded satisfaction for his conduct. He, utterly amazed by what he had seen and heard, could not comprehend my jealousy, and tried to make me understand that I was wrong to think him my rival. But I could no longer restrain my fury, jealousy drove me mad. I thought that the count declined to fight with me, and, to force him to do it, I raised my hand against him.

"Adhemar's temperament was as fiery as mine. I had offered him an insult which could only be washed out in blood; and after that, it was on his own account, to avenge his outraged honor, that he fought.

"I succeeded in obtaining pistols, and we both went out from that house to which that woman had lured the count, solely in the hope--too fully realized--that if I should surprise her, he would serve to lead my jealousy astray.--Adhemar and I walked a long distance through the fields. It was mid-day, and we constantly met villagers and farm-hands at work in the fields, in whose presence we could not fight. At last we reached the sunken road that leads from the road to Noisy-le-Grand. It was a deserted spot, no one could see us in that ravine, and there our duel took place.