Other People's Money by Emile Gaboriau (ebook smartphone txt) 📕

“And suppose I were to tell you,” he replied, “that my father in reality owed nothing?”

“Oh!”

“Suppose I told you they took from him his entire fortune, over two millions, as audaciously as a pick-pocket robs a man of his handkerchief?  Suppose I told you, that, in his loyal simplicity, he was but a man of straw in the hands of skillful knaves?  Have you forgotten what you once heard the Count de Villegre say?”

Mlle. Gilberte had forgotten nothing.

“The Count de Villegre,” she replied, “pretended that it was time enough still to compel the men who had robbed your father to disgorge.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Marius.  “And now I am determined to make them disgorge.”

In the mean time night had quite come.  Lights appeared in the shop-windows; and along the line of the Boulevard the gas-lamps were being lit.  Alarmed by this sudden illumination, M. de Tregars drew off Mlle. Gilberte to a more obscure spot, by the stairs that lead to the Rue Amelot; and there, leaning against the iron railing, he went on,

“Already, at the time of my father’s death, I suspected the abominable tricks of which he was the victim.  I thought it unworthy of me to verify my suspicions.  I was alone in the world:  my wants were few.  I was fully convinced that my researches would give me, within a brief time, a much larger fortune than the one I gave up.  I found something noble and grand, and which flattered my vanity, in thus abandoning every thing, without discussion, without litigation, and consummating my ruin with a single dash of my pen.  Among my friends the Count de Villegre alone had the courage to tell me that this was a guilty piece of folly; that the silence of the dupes is the strength of the knaves; that my indifference, which made the rascals rich, would make them laugh too.  I replied that I did not wish to see the name of Tregars dragged into court in a scandalous law-suit, and that to preserve a dignified silence was to honor my father’s memory.  Treble fool that I was!  The only way to honor my father’s memory was to avenge him, to wrest his spoils from the scoundrels who had caused his death.  I see it clearly to-day.  But, before undertaking any thing, I wished to consult you.”

Mlle. Gilberte was listening with the most intense attention.  She had come to mingle so completely in her thoughts her future life and that of M. de Tregars, that she saw nothing unusual in the fact of his consulting her upon matters affecting their prospects, and of seeing herself standing there deliberating with him.

“You will require proofs,” she suggested.

“I have none, unfortunately,” replied M. de Tregars; “at least, none sufficiently positive, and such as are required by courts of justice.  But I think I may find them.  My former suspicions have become a certainty.  The same good luck that enabled me to deliver you of M. Costeclar’s persecutions, also placed in my hands the most valuable information.”

“Then you must act,” uttered Mlle. Gilberte resolutely.

Marius hesitated for a moment, as if seeking expression to convey what he had still to say.  Then,

“It is my duty,” he proceeded, “to conceal nothing from you.  The task is a heavy one.  The obscure schemers of ten years ago have become big financiers, intrenched behind their money-bags as behind an impregnable fort.  Formerly isolated, they have managed to gather around them powerful interests, accomplices high in office, and friends whose commanding situation protects them.  Having succeeded, they are absolved.  They have in their favor what is called public consideration,—that idiotic thing which is made up of the admiration of the fools, the approbation of the knaves, and the concert of all interested vanities.  When they pass, their horses at full trot, their carriage raising a cloud of dust, insolent, impudent, swelled with the vulgar fatuity of wealth, people bow to the ground, and say, ‘Those are smart fellows!’  And in fact, yes, by skill or luck, they have hitherto avoided the police-courts where so many others have come to grief.  Those who despise them fear them, and shake hands with them.  Moreover, they are rich enough not to steal any more themselves.  They have employes to do that.  I take Heaven to witness that never until lately had the idea come to me to disturb in their possession the men who robbed my father.  Alone, what need had I of money?  Later, O my friend!  I thought I could succeed in conquering the fortune I needed to obtain your hand.  You had promised to wait; and I was happy to think that I should owe you to my sole exertions.  Events have crushed my hopes.  I am to-day compelled to acknowledge that all my efforts would be in vain.  To wait would be to run the risk of losing you.  Therefore I hesitate no longer.  I want what’s mine:  I wish to recover that of which I have been robbed.  Whatever I may do,—for, alas!  I know not to what I may be driven, what role I may have to play,—remember that of all my acts, of all my thoughts, there will not be a single one that does not aim to bring nearer the blessed day when you shall become my wife.”

There was in his voice so much unspeakable affection, that the young girl could hardly restrain her tears.

“Never, whatever may happen, shall I doubt you, Marius,” she uttered.

He took her hands, and, pressing them passionately within his,

“And I,” he exclaimed, “I swear, that, sustained by the thought of you, there is no disgust that I will not overcome, no obstacle that I will not overthrow.”

He spoke so loud, that two or three persons stopped.  He noticed it, and was brought suddenly from sentiment to the reality,

“Wretches that we are,” he said in a low voice, and very fast, “we forget what this interview may cost us!”

And he led Mlle. Gilberte across the Boulevard; and, whilst making their way to the Rue St. Gilles, through the deserted streets,

“It is a dreadful imprudence we have just committed,” resumed M. de Tregars.  “But it was indispensable that we should see each other; and we had not the choice of means.  Now, and for a long time, we shall be separated.  Every thing you wish me to know,—say it to that worthy Gismondo, who repeats faithfully to me every word you utter.  Through him, also, you shall hear from me.  Twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, about nightfall, I shall pass by your house; and, if I am lucky enough to have a glimpse of you, I shall return home fired with fresh energy.  Should any thing extraordinary happen, beckon to me, and I’ll wait for you in the Rue des Minimes.  But this is an expedient to which we must only resort in the last extremity.  I should never forgive myself, were I to compromise your fair name.”

They had reached the Rue St. Gilles.  Marius stopped.

“We must part,” he began.

But then only Mlle. Gilberte remembered M. de Tregars’ letter, which she had in her pocket.  Taking it out, and handing it to him,