The Lerouge Case by Emile Gaboriau (the dot read aloud .txt) 📕

“What, sir!” cried Noel with ardour, “would you abandon him, when he has not a friend left in the world? He is still your son, sir, he is my brother; for thirty years he has borne the name of Commarin. All the members of a family are jointly liable. Innocent, or guilty, he has a right to count upon us; and we owe him our assistance.”

“What do you then hope for, sir?” asked the count.

“To save him, if he is innocent; and I love to believe that he is. I am an advocate, sir, and I wish to defend him. I have been told that I have some talent; in such a cause I must have. Yes, however strong the charges against him may be, I will overthrow them. I will dispel all doubts. The truth shall burst forth at the sound of my voice. I will find new accents to imbue the judges with my own conviction. I will save him, and this shall be my last cause.”

“And if he should confess,” said the count, “if he has already confessed?”

“Then, sir,” replied Noel with a dark look, “I will render him the last service, which in such a misfortune I should ask of a brother, I will procure him the means of avoiding judgment.”

“That is well spoken, sir,” said the count, “very well, my son!”

And he held out his hand to Noel, who pressed it, bowing a respectful acknowledgment. The advocate took a long breath. At last he had found the way to this haughty noble’s heart; he had conquered, he had pleased him.

“Let us return to yourself, sir,” continued the count. “I yield to the reasons which you have suggested. All shall be done as you desire. But do not consider this a precedent. I never change my plans, even though they are proved to be bad, and contrary to my interests. But at least nothing prevents your remaining here from to-day, and taking your meals with me. We will, first of all, see where you can be lodged, until you formally take possession of the apartments which are to be prepared for you.”

Noel had the hardihood to again interrupt the old nobleman.

“Sir,” said he, “when you bade me follow you here, I obeyed you, as was my duty. Now another and a sacred duty calls me away. Madame Gerdy is at this moment dying. Ought I to leave the deathbed of her who filled my mother’s place?”

“Valerie!” murmured the count. He leaned upon the arm of his chair, his face buried in his hands; in one moment the whole past rose up before him.

“She has done me great harm,” he murmured, as if answering his thoughts. “She has ruined my whole life; but ought I to be implacable? She is dying from the accusation which is hanging over Albert our son. It was I who was the cause of it all. Doubtless, in this last hour, a word from me would be a great consolation to her. I will accompany you, sir.”

Noel started at this unexpected proposal.

“O sir!” said he hastily, “spare yourself, pray, a heart-rending sight. Your going would be useless. Madame Gerdy exists probably still; but her mind is dead. Her brain was unable to resist so violent a shock. The unfortunate woman would neither recognise nor understand you.”

“Go then alone,” sighed the count, “go, my son!”

The words “my son,” pronounced with a marked emphasis, sounded like a note of victory in Noel’s ears.

He bowed to take his leave. The count motioned him to wait.

“In any case,” he said, “a place at table will be set for you here. I dine at half-past six precisely. I shall be glad to see you.”

He rang. His valet appeared.

“Denis,” said he, “none of the orders I may give will affect this gentleman. You will tell this to all the servants. This gentleman is at home here.”

The advocate took his leave; and the count felt great comfort in being once more alone. Since morning, events had followed one another with such bewildering rapidity that his thoughts could scarcely keep pace with them. At last, he was able to reflect.

“That, then,” said he to himself, “is my legitimate son. I am sure of his birth, at any rate. Besides I should be foolish to disown him, for I find him the exact picture of myself at thirty. He is a handsome fellow, Noel, very handsome. His features are decidedly in his favour. He is intelligent and acute. He knows how to be humble without lowering himself, and firm without arrogance. His unexpected good fortune does not turn his head. I augur well of a man who knows how to bear himself in prosperity. He thinks well; he will carry his title proudly. And yet I feel no sympathy with him; it seems to me that I shall always regret my poor Albert. I never knew how to appreciate him. Unhappy boy! To commit such a vile crime! He must have lost his reason. I do not like the look of this one’s eye. They say that he is perfect. He expresses, at least, the noblest and most appropriate sentiments. He is gentle and strong, magnanimous, generous, heroic. He is without malice, and is ready to sacrifice himself to repay me for what I have done for him. He forgives Madame Gerdy; he loves Albert. It is enough to make one distrust him. But all young men now-a-days are so. Ah! we live in a happy age. Our children are born free from all human shortcomings. They have neither the vices, the passions, nor the tempers of their fathers; and these precocious philosophers, models of sagacity and virtue, are incapable of committing the least folly. Alas! Albert, too, was perfect; and he has assassinated Claudine! What will this one do?—All the same,” he added, half-aloud, “I ought to have accompanied him to see Valerie!”

And, although the advocate had been gone at least a good ten minutes, M. de Commarin, not realising how the time had passed, hastened to the window, in the hope of seeing Noel in the court-yard, and calling him back.

But Noel was already far away. On leaving the house, he took a cab and was quickly driven to the Rue St. Lazare.

On reaching his own door, he threw rather than gave five francs to the driver, and ran rapidly up the four flights of stairs.

“Who has called to see me?” he asked of the servant.

“No one, sir.”

He seemed relieved from a great anxiety, and continued in a calmer tone, “And the doctor?”

“He came this morning, sir,” replied the girl, “while you were out; and he did not seem at all hopeful. He came again just now, and is still here.”

“Very well. I will go and speak to him. If any one calls, show them into my study, and let me know.”

On entering Madame Gerdy’s chamber, Noel saw at a glance that no change for the better had taken place during his absence. With fixed eyes and convulsed features, the sick woman lay extended upon her back. She seemed dead, save for the sudden starts, which shook her at intervals, and disarranged the bedclothes.