The Golden Triangle by Maurice Leblanc (top rated books of all time TXT) 📕

Don Luis ceased speaking for a moment and leant over Essarès. Had the wretched man heard? Was he even alive? He looked as if he were in a faint, deprived of consciousness.

Don Luis shook him by the shoulder.

“The gold,” moaned Essarès, “the bags of gold⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh, you’re thinking of that, you old scoundrel, are you? You’re still interested? The bags of gold are in my pocket⁠ ⁠… if a pocket can contain eighteen hundred bags of gold.”

“The hiding-place?”

“Your hiding-place? It doesn’t exist, so far as I’m concerned. I needn’t prove it to you, need I, since Coralie’s here? As Coralie was buried among the bags of gold, you can draw your own conclusion. So you’re nicely done. The woman you wanted is free and, what is worse still, free by the side of the man whom she adores and whom she will never leave. And, on the other hand, your treasure is discovered. So it’s all finished, eh? We are agreed? Come, here’s the toy that will release you.”

He handed him the revolver. Essarès took it mechanically and pointed it at Don Luis; but his arm lacked the strength to take aim and fell by his side.

“Capital!” said Don Luis. “We understand each other; and the action which you are about to perform will atone for your evil life, you old blackguard. When a man’s last hope is dispelled, there’s nothing for it but death. That’s the final refuge.”

He took hold of the other’s hand and, bending Essarès’ nerveless fingers round the revolver, forced him to point it towards his own face.

“Come,” said he, “just a little pluck. What you’ve resolved to do is a very good thing. As Captain Belval and I refuse to disgrace ourselves by killing you, you’ve decided to do the job yourself. We are touched; and we congratulate you. But you must behave with courage. No resistance, come! That’s right, that’s much more like it. Once more, my compliments. It’s very smart, your manner of getting out of it. You perceive that there’s no room for you on earth, that you’re standing in the way of Patrice and Coralie and that the best thing you can do is to retire. And you’re jolly well right! No love and no gold! No gold, Siméon! The beautiful shiny coins which you coveted, with which you would have managed to secure a nice, comfortable existence, all fled, vanished! You may just as well vanish yourself, what?”

Whether because he felt himself to be helpless or because he really understood that Don Luis was right and that his life was no longer worth living, Siméon offered hardly any resistance. The revolver rose to his forehead. The barrel touched his temple.

At the touch of the cold steel he gave a moan:

“Mercy!”

“No, no, no!” said Don Luis. “You mustn’t show yourself any mercy. And I won’t help you either. Perhaps, if you hadn’t killed my poor Ya-Bon, we might have put our heads together and sought for another ending. But, honestly, you inspire me with no more pity than you feel for yourself. You want to die and you are right. I won’t prevent you. Besides, your passport is made out; you’ve got your ticket in your pocket. They are expecting you down below. And, you know, you need have no fear of being bored. Have you ever seen a picture of Hell? Everyone has a huge stone over his tomb; and everyone is lifting the stone and supporting it with his back, in order to escape the flames bursting forth beneath him. You see, there’s plenty of fun. Well, your grave is reserved. Bath’s ready, sir!”

Slowly and patiently he had succeeded in slipping the wretched man’s forefinger under the handle, so as to bring it against the trigger. Essarès was letting himself go. He was little more than a limp rag. Death had already cast its shadow upon him.

“Mind you,” said Don Luis, “you’re perfectly free. You can pull the trigger if you feel like it. It’s not my business. I’m not here to compel you to commit suicide, but only to advise you and to lend you a hand.”

He had in fact let go the forefinger and was holding only the arm. But he was bearing upon Essarès with all his extraordinary power of will, the will to seek destruction, the will to seek annihilation, an indomitable will which Essarès was unable to resist. Every second death sank a little deeper into that invertebrate body, breaking up instinct, obscuring thought and bringing an immense craving for rest and inaction.

“You see how easy it is. The intoxication is flying to your brain. It’s an almost voluptuous feeling, isn’t it? What a riddance! To cease living! To cease suffering! To cease thinking of that gold which you no longer possess and can never possess again, of that woman who belongs to another and offers him her lips and all her entrancing self!⁠ ⁠… You couldn’t live, could you, with that thought on you? Then come on!⁠ ⁠…”

Seized with cowardice, the wretch was yielding by slow degrees. He found himself face to face with one of those crushing forces, one of nature’s forces, powerful as fate, which a man must needs accept. His head turned giddy and swam. He was descending into the abyss.

“Come along now, show yourself a man. Don’t forget either that you are dead already. Remember, you can’t appear in this world again without falling into the hands of the police. And, of course, I’m there to inform them in case of need. That means prison and the scaffold. The scaffold, my poor fellow, the icy dawn, the knife⁠ ⁠…”

It was over. Essarès was sinking into the depths of darkness. Everything whirled around him. Don Luis’ will penetrated him and annihilated his own.

For one moment he turned to Patrice and tried to implore his aid. But Patrice persisted in his impassive attitude. Standing with his arms folded, he gazed with eyes devoid of pity upon his father’s murderer. The punishment was well-deserved. Fate