The Secret Of The Night(Fiscle Part 3) by Gaston Leroux (readera ebook reader txt) 📕

Everything Looks Very Bad,  Truly,  But I Do Not Suspect Either Michael

Or Boris Or My Pure And Beloved Natacha (Even Though She Has Made

A Translation Into French Of Very Advanced Verses,  Certainly Most

Improper For The Daughter Of A General).  That Is What Lies At The

Bottom Of My Mind,  The Bottom Of My Heart - You Have Understood Me

Perfectly,  Little Angel Of Paradise?  Ah,  It Is You The General Owes

His Life To,  That Matrena Owes Her Life.  Without You This House

Would Already Be A Coffin.  How Shall I Ever Reward You?  You Wish

For Nothing!  I Annoy You!  You Don't Even Listen To Me!  A Coffin

- We Would All Be In Our Coffins!  Tell Me What You Desire.  All

That I Have Belongs To You!"

"I Desire To Smoke A Pipe.

"Ah,  A Pipe!  Do You Want Some Yellow Perfumed Tobacco That I

Receive Every Month From Constantinople,  A Treat Right From The

Harem?  I Will Get Enough For You,  If You Like It,  To Smoke Ten

Thousand Pipes Full."

"I Prefer Caporal," Replied Rouletabille.  "But You Are Right.  It

Is Not Wise To Suspect Anybody.  See,  Watch,  Wait.  There Is Always

Time,  Once The Game Is Caught,  To Say Whether It Is A Hare Or A

Wild Boar.  Listen To Me,  Then,  My Good Mamma.  We Must Know First

What Is In The Phial.  Where Is It?"

"Here It Is."

She Drew It From Her Sleeve.  He Stowed It In His Pocket.

"You Wish The General A Good Appetite,  For Me.  I Am Going Out.

I Will Be Back In Two Hours At The Latest.  And,  Above All,  Don't

Let The General Know Anything.  I Am Going To See One Of My Friends

Who Lives In The Aptiekarski Pereolek."*

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* The Little Street Of The Apothecaries.

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"Depend On Me,  And Get Back Quickly For Love Of Me.  My Blood Clogs

In My Heart When You Are Not Here,  Dear Servant Of God."

She Mounted To The General's Room And Came Down At Least Ten Times

To See If Rouletabille Had Not Returned.  Two Hours Later He Was

Around The Villa,  As He Had Promised.  She Could Not Keep Herself

From Running To Meet Him,  For Which She Was Scolded.

"Be Calm.  Be Calm.  Do You Know What Was In The Phial?"

"No."

"Arsenate Of Soda,  Enough To Kill Ten People."

"Holy Mary!"

"Be Quiet.  Go Upstairs To The General."

Feodor Feodorovitch Was In Charming Humor.  It Was His First Good

Night Since The Death Of The Youth Of Moscow.  He Attributed It To

His Not Having Touched The Narcotic And Resolved,  Once More,  To

Give Up The Narcotic,  A Resolve Rouletabille And Matrena Encouraged.

During The Conversation There Was A Knock At The Door Of Matrena's

Chamber.  She Ran To See Who Was There,  And Returned With Natacha,

Who Wished To Embrace Her Father.  Her Face Showed Traces Of

Fatigue.  Certainly She Had Not Passed As Good A Night As Her

Father,  And The General Reproached Her For Looking So Downcast.

"It Is True.  I Had Dreadful Dreams.  But You,  Papa,  Did You Sleep

Well?  Did You Take Your Narcotic?"

"No,  No,  I Have Not Touched A Drop Of My Potion."

"Yes,  I See.  Oh,  Well,  That Is All Right; That Is Very Good.

Natural Sleep Must Be Coming Back..."

Matrena,  As Though Hypnotized By Rouletabille,  Had Taken The Glass

From The Table And Ostentatiously Carried It To The Dressing-Room

To Throw It Out,  And She Delayed There To Recover Her

Self-Possession.

Natacha Continued:

"You Will See,  Papa,  That You Will Be Able To Live Just Like

Everyone Else Finally.  The Great Thing Was To Clear Away The

Police,  The Atrocious Police; Wasn't It,  Monsieur Rouletabille?"

"I Have Always Said,  For Myself,  That I Am Entirely Of Mademoiselle

Natacha's Mind.  You Can Be Entirely Reassured Now,  And I Shall

Leave You Feeling Reassured.  Yes,  I Must Think Of Getting My

Interviews Done Quickly,  And Departing.  Ah Well,  I Can Only Say

What I Think.  Run Things Yourselves And You Will Not Run Any

Danger.  Besides,  The General Gets Much Better,  And Soon I Shall

See You All In France,  I Hope.  I Must Thank You Now For Your

Friendly Hospitality."

"Ah,  But You Are Not Going?  You Are Not Going!"  Matrena Had

Already Set Herself To Protest With All The Strenuous Torrent Of

Words In Her Poor Desolated Heart,  When A Glance From The Reporter

Cut Short Her Despairing Utterances.

"I Shall Have To Remain A Week Still In The City.  I Have Engaged A

Chamber At The Hotel De France.  It Is Necessary.  I Have So Many

People To See And To Receive.  I Will Come To Make You A Little

Visit From Time To Time."

"You Are Then Quite Easy," Demanded The General Gravely,  "At Leaving

Me All Alone?"

"Entirely Easy.  And,  Besides,  I Don't Leave You All Alone.  I Leave

You With Madame Trebassof And Mademoiselle.  I Repeat:  All Three Of

You Stay As I See You Now.  No More Police,  Or,  In Any Case,  The

Fewest Possible."

"He Is Right,  He Is Right," Repeated Natacha Again.

At This Moment There Were Fresh Knocks At The Door Of Matrena's

Chamber.  It Was Ermolai,  Who Announced That His Excellency The

Marshal Of The Court,  Count Keltzof,  Wished To See The General,

Acting For His Majesty.

"Go And Receive The Count,  Natacha,  And Tell Him That Your Father

Will Be Downstairs In A Moment."

Natacha And Rouletabille Went Down And Found The Count In The

Drawing-Room.  He Was A Magnificent Specimen,  Handsome And Big As

One Of The Swiss Papal Guard.  He Seemed Watchful In All Directions

And All Among The Furniture,  And Was Quite Evidently Disquieted.

He Advanced Immediately To Meet The Young Lady,  Inquiring The News.

"It Is All Good News," Replied Natacha.  "Everybody Here Is Splendid.

The General Is Quite Gay.  But What News Have You,  Monsieur Le

Marechal?  You Appear Preoccupied."

The Marshal Had Pressed Rouletabille's Hand.

"And My Grapes?" He Demanded Of Natacha.

"How,  Your Grapes?  What Grapes?"

"If You Have Not Touched Them,  So Much The Better.  I Arrived Here

Very Anxious.  I Brought You Yesterday,  From Krasnoie-Coelo,  Some

Of The Emperor's Grapes That Feodor Feodorovitch Enjoyed So Much.

Now This Morning I Learned That The Eldest Son Of Doucet,  The French

Head-Gardener Of The Imperial Conservatories At Krasnoie,  Had Died

From Eating Those Grapes,  Which He Had Taken From Those Gathered

For Me To Bring Here.  Imagine My Dismay.  I Knew,  However,  That At

The General's Table,  Grapes Would Not Be Eaten Without Having Been

Washed,  But I Reproached Myself For Not Having Taken The Precaution

Of Leaving Word That Doucet Recommend That They Be Washed Thoroughly.

Still,  I Don't Suppose It Would Matter.  I Couldn't See How My Gift

Could Be Dangerous,  But When I Learned Of Little Doucet's Death

This Morning,  I Jumped Into The First Train And Came Straight Here."

"But,  Your Excellency," Interrupted Natacha,  "We Have Not Seen Your

Grapes."

"Ah,  They Have Not Been Served Yet?  All The Better.  Thank

Goodness!"

"The Emperor's Grapes Are Diseased,  Then?" Interrogated Rouletabille.

"Phylloxera Pest Has Got Into The Conservatories?"

"Nothing Can Stop It,  Doucet Told Me.  So He Didn't Want Me To Leave

Last Evening Until He Had Washed The Grapes.  Unfortunately,  I Was

Pressed For Time And I Took Them As They Were,  Without Any Idea That

The Mixture They Spray On The Grapes To Protect Them Was So Deadly.

It Appears That In The Vineyard Country They Have Such Accidents

Every Year.  They Call It,  I Think,  The ... The Mixture ... "

"The Bordeaux Mixture," Was Heard In Rouletabille's Trembling Voice

"And Do You Know What It Is,  Your Excellency,  This Bordeaux Mixture?"

"Why,  No."

At This Moment The General Came Down The Stairs,  Clinging To The

Banister And Supported By Matrena Petrovna.

"Well," Continued Rouletabille,  Watching Natacha,  "The Bordeaux

Mixture Which Covered The Grapes You Brought The General Yesterday

Was Nothing More Nor Less Than Arsenate Of Soda."

"Ah,  God!" Cried Natacha.

As For Matrena Petrovna,  She Uttered A Low Exclamation And Let Go

The General,  Who Almost Fell Down The Staircase.  Everybody Rushed.

The General Laughed.  Matrena,  Under The Stringent Look Of

Rouletabille,  Stammered That She Had Suddenly Felt Faint.  At Last

They Were All Together In The Veranda.  The General Settled Back On

His Sofa And Inquired:

"Well,  Now,  Were You Just Saying Something,  My Dear Marshal,  About

Some Grapes You Have Brought Me?"

"Yes,  Indeed," Said Natacha,  Quite Frightened,  "And What He Said

Isn't Pleasant At All.  The Son Of Doucet,  The Court Gardener,  Has

Just Been Poisoned By The Same Grapes That Monsieur Le Marschal,

It Appears,  Brought You."

"Where Was This?  Grapes?  What Grapes?  I Haven't Seen Any Grapes!"

Exclaimed Matrena.  "I Noticed You,  Yesterday,  Marshal,  Out In The

Garden,  But You Went Away Almost Immediately,  And I Certainly Was

Surprised That You Did Not Come In.  What Is This Story?"

"Well,  We Must Clear This Matter Up.  It Is Absolutely Necessary

That We Know What Happened To Those Grapes."

"Certainly," Said Rouletabille,  "They Could Cause A Catastrophe."

"If It Has Not Happened Already," Fretted The Marshal.

"But How?  Where Are They?  Whom Did You Give Them To?"

"I Carried Them In A White Cardboard Box,  The First One That Came

To Hand In Doucet's Place.  I Came Here The First Time And Didn't

Find You.  I Returned Again With The Box,  And The General Was Just

Lying Down.  I Was Pressed For My Train And Michael Nikolaievitch

And Boris Alexandrovitch Were In The Garden,  So I Asked Them To

Execute My Commission,  And I Laid The Box Down Near Them On The