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 a.s.sistance.

"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 pa.s.sed between the trees. He went forward, and Henrietta was standing before him.

"What is it now, great G.o.d!" 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 fort.i.tude 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 n.o.ble 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 him. Ah! I should leave more cheerfully if you would promise me to trust this faithful friend, to listen to his advice, and to follow his directions."

"I promise you, Daniel, I will obey him."

But a rustling of the dry leaves interrupted them.

They turned round. A man was cautiously approaching them.

"My father!" cried Henrietta.

And, pushing Daniel towards the gate, she begged him to flee.

To remain would only have been to risk a painful explanation, insults, perhaps even a personal collision. Daniel understood that but too well.

"Farewell," he said to Henrietta, "farewell! Tomorrow you will receive a letter from me."

And he escaped, but not so promptly that he should not have heard the count's angry voice, as he said,- "Ah, ah! Is this the virtuous young lady who dares to insult Miss Sarah?"

As soon as Daniel had locked the door again, he listened for a moment, hoping that he might hear something of importance. But he could only make out a few indistinct exclamations, then nothing, nothing more.

It was all over now. He would have to sail without seeing Henrietta again, without enjoying that bitter happiness of holding her once more in his arms. And yet he had told her nothing of all he had to tell her; he had not spoken to her of half his recommendations, nor given her a thousandth part of his tender farewells.

How had they been surprised? How came it about that the count had stayed at home, instead of hurrying off immediately after dinner, as was his custom? Why should he have inquired after his daughter, he who generally took no more trouble about her than if she had not existed?

"Ah, we have been betrayed!" thought the unhappy man.

By whom? By that unpleasant maid evidently, whom he had seen that morning; by that very Clarissa in whom Henrietta put such confidence. If that was so,-and it was but too probable,-to whom should he send his letters hereafter? Here, again, he saw himself reduced to Maxime de Brevan as the only one who could convey news from him to Henrietta. Ah! he recognized but too clearly the execrable but most cunning policy of Miss Brandon.

"The wretch!" he swore; "the infamous woman!"

Wrath, mad wrath, set his brains on fire. And he could do nothing against that woman!

"But she does not stand alone!" he suddenly exclaimed. "There is a man there who shelters her under his responsibility,-Sir Thorn!"

M. Elgin might be insulted; he might be struck in the face, and thus be compelled to fight.

And, without considering this absurd plan, he hurried to Circus Street. Although it was barely eight o'clock, Miss Brandon's house looked as if everybody were asleep. He rang the bell, however; and, when a servant came to the door, he inquired,- "M. Thomas Elgin?"

"M. Elgin is absent," replied the servant.

"At what hour will he be back?"

"He is not coming home to-night."

And whether he had received special instructions, or was only acting upon general orders, he added,- "Mrs. Brian is at the theatre; but Miss Brandon is at home."

Daniel's wrath changed into a kind of cold fury.

"They expected me," he thought.

And he hesitated. Should he see Miss Brandon? But for what end? He was just turning away, when a sudden thought occurred to him. Why should he not talk with her, come to an understanding, and perhaps make a bargain with her?

"Show me to Miss Brandon's room," he said to the servant.

She sat, as she always did when left alone in the house, in the little boudoir, where Daniel had already once been carried by her. Dressed in a long dressing-wrapper of pale-blue cashmere, her hair scarcely taken up at all, she was reading, reclining on a sofa.

As the door opened, she raised herself carelessly a little, and, without turning around, asked,- "Who is that?"

But, when the servant announced the name of M. Champcey, she rose with a bound, almost terrified, dropping the book which she had in her hand.

"You!" she murmured as soon as the servant had left. "Here, and of your own accord?"

Firmly resolved this time to remain master of his sensations, Daniel had stopped in the middle of the room, as stiff as a statue.

"Don't you know, madam, what brings me here? All your combinations have succeeded admirably; you triumph, and we surrender."

She looked at him in perfect amazement, stammering- "I do not understand you. I do not know what you mean."

He shrugged his shoulders, and continued in an icy tone,- "Do me the honor to think that I am not altogether a fool. I have seen the letter which you have sent to the minister, signed with my name. I have held that masterpiece of forgery in my hand and know now how you free yourself of my presence!"

Miss Brandon interrupted him with an angry gesture,- "Then it is really so! He has done it; he has dared do it!"

"Who is this he? M. Thomas Elgin, no doubt?"

"No, not he; another man."

"Name him!"

She hesitated, hung her head, and then said with a great effort,- "I knew they wished to separate us; and, without knowing precisely what means they would employ, I suspected them. And, when I came to you the other day, I wanted to say to you, 'Have a care!' and you, M. Champcey, you drove me from you."

He looked upon her with such an ironical smile that she broke off, and cried,- "Ah, he does not believe me! Tell me that you do not believe me!"

He bowed ceremoniously, and replied in his gravest manner,- "I believe, Miss Brandon, that you desire to become Countess Ville- Handry; and you clear everything out of your path that can hinder you in your plans."

She was about to answer; but he did not give her time, and continued,- "Mark, I pray, that I make no charges. Come, let us play openly. You are too sensible and too practical to hate us-Miss Henrietta and myself-from gratuitous and purely platonic motives. You hate us because we are in your way. How are we in your way? Tell me; and, if you will promise to help us, we-Henrietta and I-pledge ourselves not to stand in your way."

Miss Brandon looked as if she could not trust her ears.

"But, sir, this is a bargain, I should say, which you propose?"

"Yes, indeed! And, that there may be no misunderstanding, I will mention the precise terms: if you will swear to be kind to Henrietta during my absence, to protect her against violence on the part of her father, and never to force her to act contrary to her sentiments for me, I will give you, in return, my word that I shall give up to you, without dispute and without reserve, the whole immense fortune possessed by Count Ville-Handry."

Succ.u.mbing to her grief, Miss Brandon seemed to be almost fainting; and big tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Have I not yet been humiliated sufficiently?" she said in a low voice. "Must you add shame to shame? Daniel, you think I am very mean."

And, checking the sobs which impeded her words, she went on,- "And yet I cannot blame you for it, I cannot. No, you are right! Every thing is against me; every thing bears witness against me. Yes, I must appear a very wicked girl in your eyes. If you knew the truth, however, Daniel-if I could, if I dared, tell you all!"

She drew nearer to him, all trembling; and then continued in a still lower tone of voice, as if she feared to be overheard,- "Do you not understand yet that I am no longer my own? Unfortunate as I am, they have taken me, bound me, fettered me. I have no longer the right to have a will of my own. If they say, 'Do this!' I must needs do it. What a life I lead! Great G.o.d! Ah, if you had been willing, Daniel! If you were willing even now!"

She became excited almost to exaltation; her eyes, moist with tears, shone with matchless splendor; pa.s.sing blushes colored her face; and her voice had strange, weird vibrations.

Was she forgetting herself? Was she really about to betray her secret? or was she merely inventing a new falsehood? Why should he not let her go on?

"That is no answer, Miss Brandon," at last said Daniel. "Will you promise me to protect Henrietta?"

"Do you really love her so dearly, your Henrietta?"

"Better than life!"

Miss Brandon turned as white as the lace on her dress; a flash of indignation shot through her eyes; and, drying her tears, she said curtly,- "Oh!"

Then Daniel replied,- "You will give me no answer, madam?"

And, as she persisted in her silence, he resumed,- "Very well, then, I understand. You declare open war. Be it so! Only listen to me carefully. I am setting out on a dangerous expedition, and you hope I shall never return. Undeceive yourself, Miss Brandon; I shall return. With a pa.s.sion like mine, with so much love in one's heart, and so much hatred, a man can defy every thing. The murderous climate will not touch me; and, if I had ten rifle-b.a.l.l.s in my body, I should still have the strength to return, and hold you to an account for what you have done to Henrietta. And if you have touched a hair on her head, if you have made her shed a single tear, by all that is holy, it will bring ill luck to you, and ill luck to others!"

He was going to leave her, when a thought struck him.

"I ought to tell you, moreover," he added, "that I leave a faithful friend behind me; and, if the count or his daughter should die very suddenly, the coroner will be informed. And now, madam, farewell-or, rather, till we meet again!"

At eight o'clock on the evening of the next day, after having left in M. de Brevan's hands a long letter for Henrietta, and after having given him his last instructions, Daniel took his seat in the train which was to take him to his new post.

XIII.

It was a week after Daniel's departure, a Wednesday, and about half- past eleven o'clock.

Some thirty carriages, the most elegant, by all means, that Paris could boast of, were standing alongside of the Church of St. Clothilda. In the pretty little square before the building, some hundred and fifty or two hundred idlers were waiting with open mouths. The pa.s.sers-by, noticing the crowd, went up and asked,- "What is going on?"

"A wedding," was the answer.

"And a grand wedding, apparently."

"Why, the grandest thing you ever saw. It is a n.o.bleman, and an immensely rich one, who is going to be married,-Count Ville-Handry. He marries an American lady. They have been in the church now for some time, and they will soon come out again."

Under the porch a dozen men, in the orthodox black costume, with yellow kid gloves, and white cravats showing under their overcoats, evidently men belonging to the wedding-party, were chatting merrily while they were waiting for the end of the ceremony. If they were amused, they hardly showed it; for some made an effort to hide their yawning, while others kept up a broken conversation, when a small coupe drove up, and stopped at the gate.

"Gentlemen," said a young man, "I announce M. de Brevan."