Caught in the Net by Emile Gaboriau (the ebook reader .txt) 📕

“Yes, sir.”

“But your mother’s desire was to see you established at Loudon or Cevray. Perhaps she hoped that her wealthy friend would aid you still further. Unluckily, however, you had no inclination for the law.”

Paul smiled, but Mascarin went on with some little severity.

“I repeat, unfortunately; and I think that by this time you have gone through enough to be of my opinion. What did you do instead of studying law? You did—what? You wasted your time over music, and composed songs, and, I know, an opera, and thought yourself a perfect genius.”

Paul had listened up to this time with patience, but at this sarcasm he endeavored to protest; but it was in vain, for Mascarin went on pitilessly,—

“One day you abandoned the study of the law, and told your mother that until you had made your name as a musical composer you would give lessons on the piano; but you could obtain no pupils, and—well, just look in the glass yourself, and say if you think that your age and appearance would justify parents in intrusting their daughters to your tuition?”

Mascarin stopped for a moment and consulted his notes afresh.

“Your departure from Poitiers,” he went on, “was your last act of folly. The very day after your poor mother’s death you collected together all her scanty savings, and took the train to Paris.”

“Then, sir, I had hoped——”

“What, to arrive at fortune by the road of talent? Foolish boy! Every year a thousand poor wretches have been thus intoxicated by their provincial celebrity, and have started for Paris, buoyed up by similar hopes. Do you know the end of them? At the end of ten years—I give them no longer—nine out of ten die of starvation and disappointment, and the other joins the criminal army.”

Paul had often repeated this to himself, and could, therefore, make no reply.

“But,” went on Mascarin, “you did not leave Poitiers alone; you carried off with you a young girl named Rose Pigoreau.”

“Pray, let me explain.”

“It would be useless. The fact speaks for itself. In six months your little store had disappeared; then came poverty and starvation, and at last, in the Hotel de Perou, your thoughts turned to suicide, and you were only saved by my old friend Tantaine.”

Paul felt his temper rising, for these plain truths were hard to bear; but fear lest he should lose his protector kept him silent.

“I admit everything, sir,” said he calmly. “I was a fool, and almost mad, but experience has taught me a bitter lesson. I am here to-day, and this fact should tell you that I have given up all my vain hallucinations.”

“Will you give up Rose Pigoreau?”

As this abrupt question was put to him, Paul turned pale with anger.

“I love Rose,” answered he coldly; “she believes in me, and has shared my troubles with courage, and one day she shall be my wife.”

Raising his velvet cap from his head, Mascarin bowed with an ironical air, saying, “Is that so? Then I beg a thousand pardons. It is urgent that you should have immediate employment. Pray, what can you do? Not much of anything, I fancy;—like most college bred boys, you can do a little of everything, and nothing well. Had I a son, and an enormous income, I would have him taught a trade.”

Paul bit his lip; but he knew the portrait was a true one.

“And now,” continued Mascarin, “I have come to your aid, and what do you say to a situation with a salary of twelve thousand francs?”

This sum was so much greater than Paul had dared to hope, that he believed Mascarin was amusing himself at his expense.

“It is not kind of you to laugh at me, under the present circumstances,” remarked he.

Mascarin was not laughing at him; but it was fully half an hour before he could prove this to Paul.

“You would like more proof of what I say,” said he, after a long conversation. “Very well, then; shall I advance your first month’s salary?” And as he spoke, he took a thousand-franc note from his desk, and offered it to Paul. The young man rejected the note; but the force of the argument struck him; and he asked if he was capable of carrying out the duties which such a salary doubtless demanded.

“Were I not certain of your abilities, I should not offer it to you,” replied Mascarin. “I am in a hurry now, or I would explain the whole affair; but I must defer doing so until to-morrow, when please come at the same hour as you did to-day.”

Even in his state of surprise and stupefaction, Paul felt that this was a signal for him to depart.

“A moment more,” said Mascarin. “You understand that you can no longer remain at the Hotel de Perou? Try and find a room in this neighborhood; and when you have done so, leave the address at the office. Good-bye, my young friend, until to-morrow, and learn to bear good fortune.”

For a few minutes Mascarin stood at the door of the office watching Paul, who departed almost staggering beneath the burden of so many conflicting emotions; and when he saw him disappear round the corner, he ran to a glazed door which led to his bed chamber, and in a loud whisper called, “Come in, Hortebise. He has gone.”

A man obeyed the summons at once, and hurriedly drew up a chair to the fire. “My feet are almost frozen,” exclaimed he; “I should not know it if any one was to chop them off. Your room, my dear Baptiste, is a perfect refrigerator. Another time, please, have a fire lighted in it.”

This speech, however, did not disturb Mascarin’s line of thought. “Did you hear all?” asked he.

“I saw and heard all that you did.”

“And what do you think of the lad?”

“I think that Daddy Tantaine is a man of observation and powerful will, and that he will mould this child between his fingers like wax.”