Monsieur Lecoq by Émile Gaboriau (romance novel chinese novels .txt) 📕

“Yes,” he resumed, defiantly, “this is hypocrisy enough. To dare to prate of reparation after the insults that you and yours have inflicted, is adding intentional humiliation to insult⁠—and I will not permit it.”

Martial had thrown aside his gun; he now rose and brushed the knee of his pantaloons, to which a few particles of dust had adhered, with a phlegm whose secret he had learned in England.

He was too discerning not to perceive that Maurice had disguised the true cause of his outburst of passion; but what did it matter to him? Had he avowed it, the marquis would not have been displeased.

Yet it was necessary to make some response, and to preserve the superiority which he imagined he had maintained up to that time.

“You will never know, Monsieur,” he said, glancing alternately at his gun and at Marie-Anne, “all that you owe to Mademoiselle Lacheneur. We shall meet again, I hope⁠—”

“You have made that remark before,” Maurice interrupted, tauntingly. “Nothing is easier than to find me. The first peasant you meet will point out the house of Baron d’Escorval.”

“Eh bien! sir, I cannot promise that you will not see two of my friends.”

“Oh! whenever it may please you!”

“Certainly; but it would gratify me to know by what right you make yourself the judge of Monsieur Lacheneur’s honor, and take it upon yourself to defend what has not been attacked. Who has given you this right?”

From Martial’s sneering tone, Maurice was certain that he had overheard, at least a part of, his conversation with Marie-Anne.

“My right,” he replied, “is that of friendship. If I tell you that your advances are unwelcome, it is because I know that Monsieur Lacheneur will accept nothing from you. No, nothing, under whatever guise you may offer these alms which you tender merely to appease your own conscience. He will never forgive the affront which is his honor and your shame. Ah! you thought to degrade him, Messieurs de Sairmeuse! and you have lifted him far above your mock grandeur. He receive anything from you! Go; learn that your millions will never give you a pleasure equal to the ineffable joy he will feel, when seeing you roll by in your carriage, he says to himself: ‘Those people owe everything to me!’ ”

His burning words vibrated with such intensity of feeling that Marie-Anne could not resist the impulse to press his hand; and this gesture was his revenge upon Martial, who turned pale with passion.

“But I have still another right,” continued Maurice. “My father yesterday had the honor of asking of Monsieur Lacheneur the hand of his daughter⁠—”

“And I refused it!” cried a terrible voice.

Marie-Anne and both young men turned with the same movement of alarm and surprise.

M. Lacheneur stood before them, and by his side was Chanlouineau, who surveyed the group with threatening eyes.

“Yes, I refused it,” resumed M. Lacheneur, “and I do not believe that my daughter will marry anyone without my consent. What did you promise me this morning, Marie-Anne? Can it be you, you who grant a rendezvous to gallants in the forest? Return to the house, instantly⁠—”

“But father⁠—”

“Return!” he repeated with an oath; “return, I command you.”

She obeyed and departed, not without giving Maurice a look in which he read a farewell that she believed would be eternal.

As soon as she had gone, perhaps twenty paces, M. Lacheneur, with folded arms, confronted Maurice.

“As for you, Monsieur d’Escorval,” said he, rudely, “I hope that you will no longer undertake to prowl around my daughter⁠—”

“I swear to you, Monsieur⁠—”

“Oh, no oaths, if you please. It is an evil action to endeavor to turn a young girl from her duty, which is obedience. You have broken forever all relations between your family and mine.”

The poor youth tried to excuse himself, but M. Lacheneur interrupted him.

“Enough! enough!” said he; “go back to your home.”

And as Maurice hesitated, he seized him by the collar and dragged him to the little footpath leading through the grove.

It was the work of scarcely ten seconds, and yet, he found time to whisper in the young man’s ear, in his formerly friendly tones:

“Go, you little wretch! do you wish to render all my precautions useless?”

He watched Maurice as he disappeared, bewildered by the scene he had just witnessed, and stupefied by what he had just heard; and it was not until he saw that young d’Escorval was out of hearing that he turned to Martial.

“As I have had the honor of meeting you, Monsieur le Marquis,” said he, “I deem it my duty to inform you that Chupin and his sons are searching for you everywhere. It is at the instance of the duke, your father, who is anxious for you to repair at once to the Château de Courtornieu.”

He turned to Chanlouineau, and added:

“We will now proceed on our way.”

But Martial detained him with a gesture.

“I am much surprised to hear that they are seeking me,” said he. “My father knows very well where he sent me; I was going to your house, Monsieur, and at his request.”

“To my house?”

“To your house, yes, Monsieur, to express our sincere regret at the scene which took place at the presbytery last evening.”

And without waiting for any response, Martial, with wonderful cleverness and felicity of expression, began to repeat to the father the story which he had just related to the daughter.

According to his version, his father and himself were in despair. How could M. Lacheneur suppose them guilty of such black ingratitude? Why had he retired so precipitately? The Duc de Sairmeuse held at M. Lacheneur’s disposal any amount which it might please him to mention⁠—sixty, a hundred thousand francs, even more.

But M. Lacheneur did not appear to be dazzled in the least; and when Martial had concluded, he replied, respectfully, but coldly, that he would consider the matter.

This coldness amazed Chanlouineai; he did not conceal the fact when the marquis, after many earnest protestations, at last wended his way homeward.

“We have misjudged these people,” he declared.

But M. Lacheneur shrugged his shoulders.

“And so