The Clique of Gold by Emile Gaboriau (polar express read aloud .TXT) 📕

“Ah! What matters my fortune, if I only see my Henrietta again?”

The notary looked discouraged.

“Ah! if there is a woman in the affair, I have nothing more to say.”

It was as well. The next moment Daniel had forgotten him and his sombre presentiments.

Seated in M. de Brevan’s little sitting-room, he was handing over his deeds and papers to his faithful confidant, explaining to him how he might make the most of the different parcels of land which he owned; how certain woods might be sold together; how, on the other hand, a large farm, now held by one tenant, might be advantageously divided into small lots, and sold at auction.

M. de Brevan did not look so pale now. He had recovered his self- possession, and laid aside his usual reserve in order to show himself all eagerness for his friend.

He declared that he would see to it that his friend Daniel should not be robbed. He intended, therefore, to go himself to Anjou to call upon those who were likely to purchase, and to be present at the sale. In his opinion, it would be wiser to sell piecemeal, without hurry. If money was needed, why, one could always get it at the bank.

Daniel was deeply touched by the devotion of his friend, whose intense selfishness he had noticed but too often. Nor was this all. Capable of the greatest sacrifices where Daniel’s interests were at stake, M. de Brevan had formed a grand resolution. He proposed to overcome his aversion to Miss Brandon, and to seek, immediately after her marriage, an introduction at Count Ville-Handry’s palace, for the purpose of going there constantly. He might have to play a disagreeable part, he admitted; but he would thus be enabled to see Miss Henrietta frequently; he would hear every thing that happened, and be at hand whenever she should need advice or assistance.

“Dear Maxime,” repeated Daniel, “dear, excellent friend, how can I ever thank you for all you are doing for me!”

As the day before, they dined together at one of the restaurants on the boulevard; and after dinner M. de Brevan insisted upon accompanying his friend back to Count Ville-Handry’s house. As they reached it long before the appointed hour, they walked up and down on the sidewalk which runs along the wall of the immense park belonging to the palace. It was a cold but perfectly clear night. There was not a cloud in the sky, no mist nor haze; and the moon was shining so brightly, that one could have read by its light.

In the meantime seven o’clock struck at a neighboring convent.

“Come, courage, my friend!” said M. de Brevan.

And, pressing his hand once more cordially, he walked off rapidly in the direction of the Invalides.

Daniel had not answered a word. Terribly excited, he had drawn near the small door, examining anxiously all the surroundings. The street was deserted. But he trembled so violently, that for a moment he thought he would never be able to turn the key in the rusty lock. At last he succeeded in opening it, and he slipped into the garden.

No one there. He was the first on the spot.

Looking for some dark place under the tall trees, he hid himself there, and waited. It seemed to him a century. He had counted sixty by the beating of his pulse ever so many times, and was beginning to be very anxious, when at last he heard some dry branches crackling under rapid footsteps. A shadow passed between the trees. He went forward, and Henrietta was standing before him.

“What is it now, great God!” she said anxiously. “Clarissa said you looked so pale and undone, that I have been terribly frightened.”

Daniel had come to the conclusion that the plain truth would be less cruel than the most skilful precautions.

“I have been ordered on active service,” he replied, “and I must be on board ship the day after tomorrow.”

And then, without concealing any thing, he told her all he had suffered since the day before. Miss Ville-Handry felt as if she had been stunned by a crushing blow. She was leaning against a tree. Did she even hear Daniel? Yes; for, suddenly rousing herself, she said,—

“You will not obey! It is impossible for you to obey!”

“Henrietta, my honor is at stake.”

“Ah, what does it matter?”

He was about to reply; but she continued in a broken voice,—

“You will certainly not go when you have heard me. You think I am strong, brave, and capable to breast the storm? You are mistaken. I was only drawing upon your energy, Daniel. I am a child, full of daring as long as it rests on its mother’s knee, but helpless as soon as it feels that it is left to itself; I am only a woman, Daniel; I am weak.”

The unhappy man felt his strength leaving him; he could no longer bear the restraint which he had imposed upon himself.

“You insist upon sending me off in utter despair?” he asked her. “Ah, I have hardly courage enough for myself!”

She interrupted him with a nervous laugh, and said in bitter sarcasm,—

“It would be courage to stay, to despise public opinion.”

And, as any thing appeared to her preferable to such a separation, she added,—

“Listen! If you will stay, I will yield. Let us go together to my father, and I will tell him that I have overcome my aversion to Miss Brandon. I will ask him to present me to her; I will humble myself before her.”

“That is impossible, Henrietta.”

She bent towards him, joining her hands; and in a suppliant voice she repeated,—

“Stay, I beseech you, in the name of our happiness! If you have ever loved me, if you love me now, stay!”

Daniel had foreseen this heartrending scene; but he had vowed, that, if his heart should break, he would have the fortitude to resist Henrietta’s prayers and tears.

“If I were weak enough to give way now, Henrietta,” he said, “you would despise me before the month is over; and I, desperate at having to drag out a life of disgrace, would blow out my brains with a curse on you.”

With her arms hanging listlessly by her side, her hands crossed behind her, Miss Ville-Handry stood there motionless, like a statue. She felt in her heart that Daniel’s resolution was not to be shaken.

Then he said in a gentle voice,—

“I am going, Henrietta; but I leave you a friend of mine,—a true and noble friend, who will watch over you. You have heard me speak of him often,—Maxime de Brevan. He knows my wishes. Whatever may happen, consult