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The Mysteries of Paris V2

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In speaking thus, the features of Florestan lost by degrees their
hypocritical expression; his eyes shone with a kind of enthusiasm; he
told the truth; he had been at first reduced by this rather uncommon
manner of understanding luxury. He looked inquiringly at his father;
he thought he appeared rather softened.

He resumed, with growing warmth: "Oracle and regulator of the
fashions, my praise or censure made the law; I was quoted, copied,
extolled, admired, and that by the best company in Paris, that is to
say, Europe, the world. The women partook of the general infatuation;
the most charming disputed for the pleasure of coming to some very
select fetes which I gave; and everywhere, and always, nothing was
heard but of the incomparable elegance and exquisite taste of these
fetes, which the millionaires could neither equal nor eclipse; in
fine, I was the Glass of Fashion. This word will tell you all, my
father, if you understand it."

"I understand it, and I am sure that at the galleys you will invent
some refined elegance in the manner of carrying your chain, that will
become the fashion in the yard, and will be called a la Saint Remy,"
said the old man, with bitter irony; then he added, "and Saint Remy is
my name!"

It caused Florestan to exercise much control over himself to conceal
the wound caused by this sarcasm.

He continued, in a more humble tone: "Alas! my father, it is not from
pride that I recall the fact of this success; for, I repeat to you,
this success ruined me. Sought after, envied, flattered, praised, not
by interested parasites, but by people whose position much surpassed
mine, and over whom I only had the advantage derived from elegance--
which is to luxury what taste is to the arts--my head was turned; I
did not calculate that my fortune must be spent in a few years; little
did I heed it. Could I renounce this feverish, dazzling life, in which
pleasure succeeded to pleasure, enjoyments to enjoyments, fetes to
fetes, intoxications of all sorts to enchantments of all sorts? Oh, if
you knew, my father, what it is to be everywhere noticed as the hero
of the day; to hear the whisperings which announce your entrance into
a saloon; to hear the women say, 'It is he!--there he is!' Oh! if you
knew----"

"I know," said the old man, interrupting his son, and without changing
his position; "I know. Yes, the other day, in a public square, there
was a crowd, suddenly I heard a noise, like that with which you are
received when you go anywhere; then the looks of all, the women
especially, were fixed on a very handsome young man, just as they are
fixed on you, and they pointed him out, just as they do you, saying,
'It is he! there he is!' just exactly as they say of you."

"But this man, my father?"

"Was a forger they were placing in the pillory."

"Ah!" exclaimed Florestan, with suppressed rage; then, feigning
profound affliction, he added: "My father, have you no pity--what can
I say to you now? I do not seek to deny my faults--I only wish to
explain to you the fatal cause of them. Ah, well! yes, should you
again overwhelm me with cruel sarcasms, I will try to go to the end of
this confession--I will try to make you understand this feverish
vanity which has ruined me, because then, perhaps, you will pity me.
Yes, for one pities a fool--and I was a fool. Shutting my eyes, I
abandoned myself to the dazzling vortex, into which I dragged along
with me the most charming women, the most amiable men. Stop myself--
could I do it? As well say to the poet who exhausts himself, and whose
genius is consuming his health, 'Pause in the midst of the inspiration
which carries you away!' No! I could not; I--I! abdicate this royalty
which I exercised, and return, ruined, ashamed, mocked, to the state
of a plebeian--unknown; give this triumph to my rivals, whom I had
until then defied, ruled, crushed! No, no, I could not! not
voluntarily, at least. The fatal day came, when, for the first time,
my money was wanting. I was as surprised as if this moment never could
happen. Yet I had still my horses, my carriages, and the furniture of
this house. My debts paid, I should still have sixty thousand francs--
perhaps--what should I do with this trifle? Then, my father, I took
the first step in infamy. I was still honest. I had only spent what
belonged to me; but then I began to contract debts which I could not
pay. I sold all I possessed to two of my people, in order to settle
with them, and to be able, for six months longer, to enjoy this luxury
which intoxicated me, in spite of my creditors. To provide for my
wants at play and foolish expenses, I borrowed, in the first place,
from the Jews; then, to pay the Jews, from my friends. These resources
exhausted, commenced a new era of my life. From an honest man I had
become a chevalier d'industrie, but I was not yet criminal. However, I
hesitated. I wished to take a violent resolution. I had proved in
several duels that I was not afraid of death. I thought I would kill
myself."

"Indeed?" said the count, ironically.

"You do not believe me, my father?"

"It was too soon, or too late!" added the old man, quite immovable,
and in the same attitude.

Florestan, thinking he had alarmed his father in speaking to him of
his project of suicide, thought it necessary to get up the scene again
for a little stage effect. He opened a closet and took from it a
little green crystal vial, and said to the count, placing it on the
mantelpiece: "An Italian quack sold me this poison."

"And--it was for yourself?" said the old man, still leaning on his
elbow.

Florestan understood the bearing of his father's words. His face now
expressed real indignation, for he spoke the truth. One day, he had
had the idea of killing himself--an ephemeral fantasy; people of his
stamp are too cowardly to resolve coldly and without witnesses upon
death, which they will boldly meet in a duel through a point of honor.
He cried, then, in a tone of truth, "I have fallen very low, but at
least not so low as that, my father! It was for myself I reserved the
poison!"

"And you were afraid?" said the count, without change of position.

"I confess it, I recoiled before this dreadful extremity; nothing was
yet desperate, the persons whom I owed were rich, and could wait. At
my age, with my relations, I hoped for a moment, if not to repair my
fortune, at least to assure myself an honorable independent position
in its place. Several of my friends, perhaps, less capable than myself
had made rapid strides in diplomacy. I had a velleity of ambition. I
had only to request, and I was attached to the legation of Gerolstein.
Unfortunately, some days after this nomination, a gambling debt
contracted with a man I hated placed me in the most cruel
embarrassment. I had exhausted every resource. A fatal idea occurred
to me. Believing myself certain of impunity, I committed an infamous
action. You see, my father, I conceal nothing from you. I confess the
ignominy of my conduct. I seek to extenuate nothing. One of two
resolutions remains for me to take, and I have now to decide which.
The first is to kill myself, and to leave your name dishonored, for if
I do not pay to-day even the twenty-five thousand francs, the
complaint is made, the affair known, and, dead or living, I am ruined.
The second means is to throw myself in the hands of my father, to say
to you, save your son, save your name from infamy, and I swear to
leave to-morrow for Africa, to enlist as a soldier, and either to be
killed or to return some day honorably reinstated. What I now tell
you, my father, is true. In face of the extremity which overwhelms me,
I have no other way. Decide; either I die covered with shame, or
thanks to you, I will live to repair my faults. These are not the
threats and words of a young man, my father. I am now twenty-five; I
bear your name; I have courage enough either to kill myself, or to
become a soldier, for I will not go to the galleys."

The count arose.

"I will not have my name dishonored," said he coldly to Florestan.

"Oh, my father! my savior!" cried the viscount, warmly; and he was
about to throw himself into the arms of his father, when he, with an
icy gesture, checked the impulse.

"They wait for you until three o'clock, at the house of this man who
has the forgery?"

"Yes, my father; and it is now two o'clock."

"Let us pass into your cabinet--give me something to write with."

"Here, my father." The count seated himself before the desk of his
son, and wrote with a firm hand:

"I engage to pay this night, at ten o'clock, the 25,000 francs which
are owed by my son.

"COUNT DE SAINT REMY."

"Your creditor insists upon having the money; notwithstanding his
threats, this engagement of mine will make him consent to a new delay;
he can go to Mr. Dupont, banker, in the Rue de Richelieu, No. 7, who
will inform him of the value of this note."

"Oh, father! however can--"

"You may expect me to-night; at ten o'clock. I will bring you the
money. Let your creditor be here."

"Yes, father, and after to-morrow, I start for Africa. You shall see
if I am ungrateful. Then, perhaps, when I have reinstated myself, you
will accept my thanks."

"You owe me nothing; I have said my name shall be no further
dishonored; it shall not be," said M. de Saint Remy, calmly; and
taking his cane, which he had placed on the bureau, he turned toward
the door.

"Father, your hand at least!" said Florestan, in a supplicating tone.

"Here, to-night, at ten-o'clock," replied the count, refusing his
hand. And he departed.

"Saved!" cried Florestan, joyfully, "saved!" then, after a moment's
reflection, he added, "saved! almost. No matter; so far good. Perhaps
to-night I will acknowledge the other thing; he is in train; he will
not stop halfway and let his sacrifice be useless, because he refuses
a second. Yet why tell him? Who will know it? Never mind; if nothing
is discovered, I will keep the money that he will give me to pay this
last debt. I had a great deal of trouble to move him, this devil of a
man! The bitterness of his sarcasms made me doubt my success; but my
threat of suicide, the fear of having his name dishonored, decided
him; that was the lucky stroke. He is, doubtless, not so poor as he
pretends to be, if he possesses a hundred thousand francs. He must
have saved money, living as he does. Once more, I say his coming was a
lucky chance. He has a cross look, but, at the bottom, I think he is a
good fellow; but I must hasten to this bailiff." He rang the bell.
Boyer appeared.

"Why did you not inform me that my father was here? you are very
negligent."

"Twice I endeavored to speak to you when you came through the garden
with M. Badinot; but, probably, preoccupied by your conversation with
M. Badinot, you made a motion with the hand not to be interrupted. I
did not permit myself to insist. I should be deeply wounded if my lord
could believe me guilty of negligence."

"Very well; tell Edward to harness immediately Orion--no--Plower, to
the cabriolet."

Boyer bowed respectfully; as he was about to retire, some one knocked
at the door.

"Come in!" said Florestan.

A second valet appeared, holding in his hand a small salver. Boyer
took hold of the salver with a kind of jealous officiousness, and came
and presented it to the viscount, who took from it a rather voluminous
envelope, sealed with black wax. The valets retired ceremoniously. The
viscount opened the package. It contained twenty-five thousand francs,
in treasury notes; with no other information.

"Decidedly," cried he, with joy, "the day is lucky--sacred! this time,
completely saved. I shall go to the jeweler's--and yet--perhaps--no,
let us wait--they can have no suspicion of me--twenty-five thousand
francs are good to keep; pardieu! I was a fool ever to doubt my star;
at the moment it seems most obscured does it not appear more brilliant
than ever? But where does this money come from? the writing of the
address is unknown to me; let me look at the seal--the cipher; yes,
yes, I am not mistaken--an N and an L--it is Clotilde! How has she
known?--and not a word--it is strange! How apropos! Oh I reflect--I
made a rendezvous for this morning--these threats of Badinot upset me.
I had forgotten Clotilde--after having waited some time, she has gone.
Doubtless, this is sent as a delicate hint that she fears I shall
forget her on account of my monetary embarrassments. Yes, it is an
indirect reproach for not addressing myself to her as usual. Good
Clotilde--always the same!--generous as a queen! What a pity to come
again from her--still so handsome! Sometimes I regret it; but I have
never asked her until, at the last extremity, I have been forced to
it."

"The cabriolet is ready," said Boyer.

"Who brought this letter?"

"I am uninformed, my lord."

"Exactly--I will ask at the door; but tell me, is there no one below?"
added the viscount, looking at Boyer in a significant manner.

"There is no longer any one, my lord."

"I was not deceived," thought Florestan. "Clotilde has waited for me,
and has gone away."

"Will my lord have the goodness to grant me two minutes?" said Boyer.

"Speak, but make haste."

"Mr. Patterson and I have understood that his Grace the Duke of
Montbrison was about to establish himself; if your lordship would have
the goodness to propose to let him have his house all furnished, as
well as the stables, it would be a good occasion for us to dispose of
all; and, perhaps, might also suit my lord."

"You are right, Boyer! I should much prefer it. I will see Montbrison,
and will speak to him about it. What are your conditions?"

"Your lordship understands that we ought to try to profit as much as
we can by his generosity."

"And gain by your bargain? nothing can be plainer! Come, what is the
price?"

"For the whole, two hundred and sixty thousand francs, my lord."

"How much do you and Patterson make?"

"About forty thousand francs, my lord."

"Very pretty! However, so much the better; for, after all, I am
satisfied with you, and if I had had a will to make, I should have
left this sum to you and Patterson." The viscount went out to go, in
the first place, to his creditor and Madame de Lucenay, whom he did
not suspect of having overheard his conversation with Badinot.




CHAPTER XXX.

THE INTERVIEW.


Lucenay House was one of those princely habitations of the Faubourg
Saint Germain which the unobstructed view renders so magnificent. A
modern house could have been placed with ease in the space occupied by
the staircase of one of these palaces; and an entire ward on the
ground they covered.

Toward nine o'clock in the evening of this same day, the enormous
gateway was opened to a glittering carriage, which, after having
described a scientific curve in the immense court stopped before a
covered porch, which led to an antechamber.

While the stampings of the two vigorous and mettlesome horses
resounded on the pavement, a gigantic footman opened the emblazoned
door, and a young man descended slowly from this brilliant vehicle,
and not less slowly mounted the five or six steps of the porch.

This was the Viscount de Saint Remy.

On leaving his creditor, who, satisfied with the engagement made by
the Count de Saint Remy, had granted the delay asked, and agreed to
come to Rue Chaillot at ten o'clock, Florestan was come to thank
Madame de Lucenay for the new service she had rendered; but, not
having met the duchess in the morning, he came in great spirits,
certain to find her at the hour she habitually reserved for him.

From the obsequiousness of the two footmen in the antechamber who ran
to open the door as soon as they recognized the carriage; from the
profoundly respectful air with which the rest of the liveried servants
spontaneously arose as the viscount passed, one could easily see that
he was looked upon as the second, if not the real master of the
mansion.

When the Duke de Lucenay entered his house, his umbrella in his hand,
and his feet in huge overshoes (he detested riding in the daytime),
the same domestic evolutions were repeated, and always respectfully;
yet to the eyes of an observer, there was a great difference of
expression between the reception given to the husband, and that which
was reserved for the _cicisbeo_.

The same respectful eagerness was manifested in the saloon of the
valets when Florestan entered there; in a moment, one of them preceded
him, to announce him to Madame de Lucenay.

Never had Florestan been more conceited; never did he feel more easy,
more sure of himself, more irresistible. The victory which he had
gained in the morning over his father; the new proof of attachment
from Madame de Lucenay; the joy at having so miraculously escaped from
so cruel a position; his renewed confidence in his star, gave to his
handsome face an expression of boldness and good humor which rendered
him still more seducing. In fine, he never was more pleased with
himself; and he had reason.

A last glance in a mirror completed the excellent opinion that
Florestan had of himself.

The valet opened the folding doors of the saloon, and announced, "His
lordship the Viscount de Saint Remy."

The astonishment and indignation of the duchess were indescribable.
She thought the count must have told his son that she also had
overheard all.

We have said before, that, on learning the infamy of Florestan, the
love of Madame de Lucenay was at once changed into utter disdain.

Being engaged out that evening, she was, although without diamonds,
dressed with her usual taste and magnificence: this splendid toilet;
the rouge which she wore boldly; her beauty, quite striking at night;
her figure of "the goddess sailing on clouds," rendered still more
striking a dignity, which no one possessed more than she did, and
which she pushed, when it was necessary, to a most superlative
haughtiness.

The proud, determined character of the duchess is known to the reader;
let him imagine her look, when the viscount, smiling, advanced toward
her, and said in loving tones, "My dear Clotilde, how kind you are!
how much you----" The viscount could not finish.

The duchess was seated, and had not stirred; but her actions, the
glance of her eye, revealed a contempt at once so calm and so
withering, that Florestan stopped short. He could not say a word, or
make a step in advance. Never had Madame de Lucenay conducted herself
thus toward him. He could not believe it to be the same woman whom he
had always found so tender and affectionate. His first surprise over,
Florestan was ashamed of his weakness; he resumed his habitual
audacity; making a step toward Madame de Lucenay to take her hand, he
said to her in the most caressing manner, "Clotilde, how is this? I
have never seen you so handsome, and yet--"

"Oh! this is too impudent!" cried the duchess, recoiling with such
unequivocal disgust and pride, that Florestan once more was surprised
and confounded.

However, assuming a little assurance, he said to her: "You will inform
me, at least, Clotilde, the cause of this sudden change? What have I
done? What do you wish?"

Without replying to him, Madame de Lucenay looked at him from head to
foot, with an expression so insulting that Florestan felt the flush of
resentment mount to his forehead, and he cried, "I know, madame, you
are habitually very hasty in your ruptures. Is it a rupture you wish?"

"The pretension is curious!" said Madame de Lucenay, with a burst of
sardonic laughter. "Know that when a lackey robs me--I do not break
with him--I turn him out."

"Madame!"

"Let us put a stop to this," said the duchess, in a decided and
haughty tone. "Your presence is repugnant to me! What do you want
here? Have you not got your money?"

"I was right then. I guessed it was you. These twenty-five thousand
francs--"

"Your last forgery is withdrawn, is it not? The honor of your family
name is saved. It is saved. Go away. Ah! believe--I much regret this
money--it would have succored so many honest people; but it was
necessary to think of your father's shame and of mine."

"Then, Clotilde, you know all! Oh! look you now; nothing remains for
me but to die," cried Florestan in the most pathetic and despairing
tone.

A burst of indignant laughter from the duchess replied to this
tragical exclamation, and she added, between two fits of hilarity, "I
never could have thought that infamy could make itself so ridiculous!"

"Madame!" cried Florestan, almost blind with rage.

The folding doors were thrown open suddenly, and a valet announced,
"His Grace the Duke de Montbrison!"

Notwithstanding his habitual self-command, Florestan could hardly
restrain himself, which a man more accustomed to society than the duke
would certainly have remarked. Montbrison was scarcely eighteen.

Let the reader imagine the charming face of a young girl, fair, white,
and red, whose rosy lips and smooth chin shall be slightly shaded with
an incipient beard; add to this, large brown eyes, still slightly
timid, a figure as graceful as that of the duchess, and he will have,
perhaps, an idea of the appearance of this young duke, the most ideal
Cherubino that a Countess and a Susanna had ever put on a woman's cap,
after admiring the whiteness of his ivory neck.

The viscount had the weakness or the audacity to remain.

"How kind you are, Conrad, to have thought of me tonight!" said Madame
de Lucenay in the most affectionate tone, extending her beautiful hand
to the young duke who hastened to shake hands with his cousin; but
Clotilde shrugged her shoulders, and said to him gayly, "You may kiss
them, cousin: you wear your gloves."

"Pardon me, cousin," said the youth; and he pressed his lips on the
charming hand she presented him.

"What are you going to do this evening, Conrad?" demanded the duchess,
without taking the least notice of Florestan.

"Nothing, cousin; when I leave here, I am going to my club."

"Not at all: you shall accompany M. de Lucenay and me to Madame de
Senneval's; it is her night; she has already asked me several times to
present you."

"Cousin, I shall be too happy to place myself under your orders."

"And besides, frankly, I do not like to see you so soon accustom
yourself to this taste for clubs; you have every requisite to be
perfectly well received and even sought after in society. So you must
go oftener."

"Yes, cousin."

"And as I am with you pretty much on the footing of a grandmother, my
dear Conrad, I am disposed to be very maternal. You are emancipated it
is true; but still I think you will have need for a long time of a
tutor. And you must absolutely accept of me."

"With joy, with delight, my cousin!" said the young duke with
vivacity.

It is impossible to describe the mute rage of Florestan, who remained
standing, leaning against the chimney-piece.

Neither the duke nor Clotilde paid any attention to him. Knowing how
quickly Madame de Lucenay decided on anything, he imagined that she
pushed her audacity and contempt so far that she wished to play the
coquette openly and before him with the young duke.

It was not so; the duchess felt for her young cousin an affection
quite maternal. But the young duke was so handsome, he seemed so happy
at the gracious reception of his young cousin, that Florestan was
exasperated by jealousy, or rather by pride; his heart writhed under
the cruel stings of envy, inspired by Conrad de Montbrison, who, rich
and charming, entered so splendidly this life of pleasures, which he
was leaving--he, ruined, despised, disgraced.

Saint Remy was brave--with the bravery of the head, if we may so
express it, which, through anger or vanity, causes one to face a duel;
but vile and corrupted, he had not that courage of the heart which
triumphs over evil propensities, or which at least gives one the
energy to escape infamy by a voluntary death.

Furious at the sovereign contempt of the duchess, thinking he saw a
successor in the young duke, Saint Remy resolved to match the
insolence of Clotilde, and, if it was necessary, to select a quarrel
with Conrad. The duchess, irritated at the audacity of Florestan, did
not look at him; and Montbrison, in his attraction toward his cousin,
forgetting the usages of society, had neither bowed nor said a word to
the viscount, whom he knew perfectly.

He advanced toward Conrad, whose back was turned toward him, touched
his arm lightly, and said, in an ironical and dry tone, "Good-evening,
your grace; a thousand pardons for not having perceived you before."

Montbrison, feeling that he had been wanting in politeness, turned
quickly, and said, cordially, "Sir, I am confused, truly, but I dare
hope that my cousin, who has caused my want of attention, will be
pleased to make my excuses, and--"

"Conrad!" said the duchess, incensed at the impudence of Florestan,
who persisted in remaining and braving her; "Conrad, it is right; no
excuses; it is not worth the trouble."

Montbrison, believing that his cousin reproached him in a playful
manner for being too formal, said gayly to the viscount, who was white
with rage, "I shall not insist, sir, since my cousin forbids. You see
her tutelage commences."

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