"Well, I'll find it some way," she said.

So she went down, to Mrs. Cheva.s.sat's great astonishment, but without answering her questions, where she was going to in such a hurry.

Having turned at the first corner, she went on at haphazard, walking quite rapidly, and not minding the pa.s.sers-by, entirely occupied in looking at the houses and the sign-boards. But for more than an hour she wandered thus through all the small streets and alleys in those suburbs; she found nothing, and it was getting dark.

"And still I won't go home till I have found it," she said to herself wrathfully.

This resolution gave her courage to go up to a policeman, and, crimson like a poppy, to ask him,- "Will you be so kind, sir, as to tell me a p.a.w.nbroker's shop?"

The man looked with pity at the young girl, whose whole person exhaled a perfume of distinction and of candor, asking himself, perhaps, what terrible misfortune could have reduced a lady like her to such a step; then he answered with a sigh,- "There, madam, at the corner of the first street on the right, you will find a loan office."

"Loan office?" These words suggested to Henrietta no clear idea. But it mattered not. She went on in feverish haste, recognized the house that had been pointed out to her, went up stairs, and, pushing open a door, found herself in a large room, where some twenty people were standing about, waiting.

On the right hand three or four clerks, shut off from the public by a railing breast-high, were writing down the names of the depositors, and counting out money. Far back, a large opening was visible, where another clerk appeared from time to time, to take in the articles that were p.a.w.ned. After waiting for five minutes, and without asking a question from anybody, Henrietta understood the whole process. Trembling as if she had committed a crime, she went to the opening behind, and put upon the ledge one of her rings, the most valuable of the two. Then she waited, not daring to look up; for it seemed to her as if all eyes were upon her.

"One diamond ring!" cried the clerk. "Nine hundred francs. Whose is it?"

The large amount caused all to look around; and a big woman, but too well dressed, and with a very impudent expression, said,- "Oh, oh! The damsel dresses well!"

Crimson with shame, Henrietta had stepped up. She whispered,- "It is my ring, sir."

The clerk looked at her, and then asked quite gently,- "You have your papers?"

"Papers? What for?"

"The papers that establish your ident.i.ty. Your pa.s.sport, a receipt for rent, or any thing."

The whole company laughed at the ignorance of this girl. She stammered out,- "I have no such papers, sir."

"Then we can make no advance."

One more hope, her last, vanished thus. She held out her hand, saying,- "Please give me back my ring."

But the clerk now laughed, and replied,- "No, no, my dear! that can't be done. You shall have it back when you bring me the papers, or when you come accompanied by two merchants who are known to us."

"But, sir"- "That is so."

And, finding that he had lost time enough, he went on,- "One velvet cloak! Thirty francs. Whose is it?"

Henrietta was rushing out, and down the stairs, pursued, as it seemed to her, by the cries of the crowd. How that clerk had looked at her! Did he think she had stolen the ring? And what was to become of it? The police would inquire; they would trace her out; and she would be carried back to her father's house, and given up to Sir Thorn. She could hardly keep up until she reached Water Street; and there fatigue, fright, and excitement made her forget her resolutions. She confessed her discomfiture to Mrs. Cheva.s.sat.

The honest woman tried to look as grave as an attorney whom a great client consults, who has unwittingly stirred up a wasps' nest; and, when her tenant had finished, she said in a voice apparently half drowned in tears,- "Poor little kitten, poor little innocent kitten!"

But, if she succeeded in giving to her face an expression of sincere sympathy, the greedy look in her eyes betrayed but too clearly her immense satisfaction at seeing Henrietta at last at her feet.

"After all," she said, "you are prodigiously lucky in your misfortunes; for you are too imprudent in all conscience."

And, as the poor girl was not a little astonished at this, she went on,- "Yes, you ran a great risk; and I can easily prove it to you. Who are you? Well, you need not turn pale that way: I don't ask any questions. But after all, if you carry your jewels yourself to the 'Uncle,' you go, so to say, and rush right into the lion's mouth. If they had arrested you when they saw you had no papers; if they had carried you before a magistrate-eh? Ah! my beautiful friend, you would have fared pretty badly, I dare say."

And then, changing her tone, she began scolding her beautiful young lady for having concealed her troubles from her. That was wrong; that hurt her feelings. Why had she given her money last night? Did she ask for money? Did she look like such a terrible creditor? She knew, G.o.d be thanked! what life was here below, and that we are bound to help one another. To be sure, there was that furniture dealer, who must be paid; but she would have been quite willing to make him wait; and why should he not? She had got very different people to wait! Why, only last week, she had sent one of those men away, and a dressmaker into the bargain, who came to levy upon one of her tenants in the back building,-the very nicest, and prettiest, and best of them all.

Thus she discoursed and discoursed with amazing volubility, till at last, when she thought she had made a sufficiently strong impression on her "poor little p.u.s.s.y-cat," she said,- "But one can easily see, my dear young lady, that you are a mere child. Sell your poor little jewels! Why, that is murder, as long as there is some one at hand quite ready to do any thing for you."

At this sudden, but not altogether unexpected attack, Henrietta trembled.

"For I am sure," continued Mrs. Cheva.s.sat, "if it were only to be agreeable to you, he would give one of his arms, this poor M. Maxime."

Henrietta looked so peremptorily at her, that the worthy lady seemed to be quite disconcerted.

"I forbid you," cried the young lady, with a voice trembling with indignation,-"I forbid you positively ever to mention his name!"

The woman shrugged her shoulders.

"As you like it," she answered.

And then, ready to change the conversation, she added,- "Well, then, let us return to your ring. What do you propose to do?"

"That is exactly why I came to you," replied Henrietta. "I do not know what is to be done in such a case."

Mrs. Cheva.s.sat smiled, very much pleased.

"And you did very well to come to us," she said.

"Cheva.s.sat will go, take the charcoal-dealer and the grocer next door with him; and before going to bed you will have your money, I promise you! You see he understands pretty well how to make the clerks do their duty, my Cheva.s.sat."

That evening the excellent man really condescended to go up stairs, and to bring Henrietta himself eight hundred and ninety-five francs.

He did not bring the whole nine hundred francs, he said; for, having put his two neighbors to some inconvenience, he was bound, according to established usage, to invite them to take something. For himself, he had, of course, kept nothing,-oh, nothing at all! He could take his oath upon that; for he preferred by far leaving that little matter to the beautiful young lady's liberality.

"Here are ten francs," said Henrietta curtly, in order to make an end to his endless talk.

Thus, with the few gold-pieces which she had found in her purse, the poor girl had a capital of about a thousand francs in hand. How many days, how many months, this sum would have secured to her, if the furniture-dealer had not been there with his bill! He did not fail to present himself next day, accompanied by Mrs. Cheva.s.sat. He asked for five hundred and seventy-nine francs. Such a sum for a few second-hand pieces of furniture which adorned that wretched garret! It was a clear swindle, and the impudence so great, that Henrietta was overwhelmed. But still she paid.

When he was gone, she sadly counted from one hand into the other the twenty-three gold-pieces that were left, when suddenly a thought occurred to her, that might have saved her, if she had followed it out.

It was the thought of leaving the house by stealth, of going to the station of the Orleans Railway, and of taking the first train for the home of Daniel's aunt. Alas! she was content with writing to her, and remained.

XIX.

This inspiration was, moreover, to be the last favor which Providence vouchsafed to Henrietta,-an opportunity which, once allowed to pa.s.s, never returns. From that moment she found herself irrevocably insnared in a net which tightened day by day more around her, and held her a helpless captive. She had vowed to herself, the unfortunate girl, that she would economize her little h.o.a.rd like the blood in her veins. But how could she economize?

She was without every thing. When M. de Brevan had gone to engage this garret-room, he had thought of nothing; or rather (and such a calculation was quite in keeping with his cold-blooded rascality) he had taken his measures so that his victim must soon be in utter dest.i.tution. Without any other clothes than those she wore on the night of her flight, she had no linen, no shoes, not a towel even to wipe her hands, unless she borrowed them from her friend down stairs.

Accustomed as she was to all the comforts of boundless wealth, and to all the refinements of cleanliness, these privations became to her a genuine martyrdom. Thus she spent in a variety of small purchases more than a hundred and fifty francs. The sum was enormous at a time when she could already count the days to the hour when she would be without bread. In addition to that she had to pay Mrs. Cheva.s.sat five francs a day for her board. Five francs were another enormous sum which troubled her grievously; for she would have been quite willing to live on bread and water. But in that direction she thought no economizing was possible.

One evening she had hinted at the necessity of retrenching, when Mrs. Cheva.s.sat had shot at her a venomous glance, which pierced her to the very marrow of her bones.

"It must be done," she said to herself.

In her mind she felt as if the five francs were a kind of daily ransom which she paid the estimable concierge's wife for her good-will. It is true, that, for such a consideration, the terrible woman was all attention for her "poor little p.u.s.s.y-cat;" for thus she had definitely dubbed Henrietta, becoming daily more familiar, and adding this odious and irritating presumption to all the other tortures of the poor girl. Many a time poor Henrietta had been made so indignant and furious, that she had been on the point of rebelling; but she had never dared, submitting to this familiarity for the same reason for which she paid her five francs every day. The old woman, taking her silence for consent, put no longer any restraint upon herself. She declared she could not comprehend how her "little p.u.s.s.y-cat," young and pretty as she was, could consent to live as she did. Was that a life?

Then she always came back to M. Maxime, who continued to call regularly twice a day, the poor young man!

"And more than that, poor little p.u.s.s.y," she added, "you will see that one of these days he will summon courage enough to come and offer you an apology."

But Henrietta would not believe that.

"He will never have such consummate impudence," she thought.

He had it, nevertheless. One morning, when she had just finished righting up her room, somebody knocked discreetly, at her door. Thinking that it was Mrs. Cheva.s.sat, who brought her her breakfast, she went to the door and opened it, without asking who was there. And she started back with amazement and with terror when she recognized M. de Brevan.

It really looked as if he were making a supreme effort over himself. He was deadly pale; his lips trembled; his eyes looked dim and uncertain; and he moved his lips and jaws as if he had gravel in his mouth.

"I have come, madam," he said, "to ask if you have reconsidered."

She made no reply, looking at him with an air of contempt which would have caused a man with some remnant of honor in his heart to flee from the spot instantly. But he had, no doubt, armed himself beforehand, against contempt.

"I know," he continued, "that my conduct must appear abominable in your eyes. I have led you into this snare, and I have meanly betrayed a friend's confidence; but I have an excuse. My pa.s.sion is stronger than my will, than my reason."

"A vile pa.s.sion for money!"

"You may think so, madam, if you choose. I shall not even attempt to clear myself. That is not what I came for. I came solely for the purpose of enlightening you in regard to your own position, which you do not seem to realize."

If she had followed her own impulses, Henrietta would have driven the wretch away. But she thought she ought to know his intentions and his plans. She overcame her disgust, therefore, and remained silent.

"In the first place," said M. de Brevan, apparently trying to collect his thoughts, "bear this in mind, madam. You are ruined in reputation, and ruined through me. All Paris is convinced, by this time, that I have run away with you; and that I keep you concealed in a charming place, where we enjoy our mutual love; in fact, that you are my mistress."

He seemed to expect an explosion of wrath. By no means! Henrietta remained motionless like a statue.

"What would you have?" he went on in a tone of sarcasm. "My coachman has been talking. Two friends of mine, who reached the palace on foot when I drove up, saw you jump into my coupe; and, as if that had not been enough, that absurd M. Elgin must needs call me out. We had a duel, and I have wounded him."

The manner in which the young girl shrugged her shoulders showed but too clearly that she did not believe M. de Brevan. He added,- "If you doubt it, madam, pray read this, then, at the top of the second column."

She took the paper which he offered her, and there she read,- "Yesterday, in the woods near Vincennes, a duel with swords was fought between M. M. de B-- and one of the most distinguished members of our American colony. After five minutes' close combat, M. E-- was wounded in the arm. It is said that the sudden and very surprising disappearance of one of the greatest heiresses of the Faubourg Saint Germain was not foreign to this duel. Lucky M. de B-- is reported to know too much of the beautiful young lady's present home for the peace of the family. But surely these lines ought to be more than enough on the subject of an adventure which will ere long, no doubt, end in a happy and brilliant marriage."

"You see, madam," said M. de Brevan, when he thought Henrietta had had time enough to read the article, "you see it is not I who advise marriage. If you will become my wife, your honor is safe."

"Ah, sir!"

In that simple utterance there was so much contempt, and such profound disgust, that M. de Brevan seemed to turn, if possible, whiter than before.

"Ah! I see you prefer marrying M. Thomas Elgin," he said.

She only shrugged her shoulders; but he went on,- "Oh, do not smile! He or I; you have no other alternative. Sooner or later you will have to choose."

"I shall not choose, sir."

"Oh, just wait till poverty has come! Then you think, perhaps, you will only need to implore your father to come to your a.s.sistance. Do not flatter yourself. Your father has no other will but that of the Countess Sarah; and the Countess Sarah will have it so, that you marry Sir Thorn."

"I shall not appeal to my father, sir."

"Then you probably count upon Daniel's return? Ah, believe me! do not indulge in such dreams. I have told you Daniel loves the Countess Sarah; and, even if he did not love her, you have been too publicly disgraced for him ever to give you his name. But that is nothing yet. Go to the navy department, and they will tell you that 'The Conquest' is out on a cruise of two years more. At the time when Daniel returns, if he returns at all (which is very far from being certain), you will long since have become Mrs. Elgin or Madame de Brevan, unless"- Henrietta looked at him so fixedly, that he could not bear the glance; and then she said in a deep voice,- "Unless I die! did you not mean that? Be it so."

Coldly M. de Brevan bowed, as if he intended to say,- "Yes, unless you should be dead: that was what I meant."

Then, opening the door, he added,- "Let me hope, madam, that this is not your last word. I shall, however, have the honor of calling every week to receive your orders."

And, bowing, he left the room.

"What brought him here, the wretch! What does he want of me?"

Thus she questioned herself as soon as she was alone, and the door was 'shut.' And her anguish increased tenfold; for she did not believe a word of the pretexts which M. de Brevan had a.s.signed for his visit. No, she could not admit that he had come to see if she had reflected, nor that he really cherished that abominable hope, that misery, hunger, and fear would drive her into his arms.

"He ought to know me well enough," she thought with a new access of wrath, "to be sure that I would prefer death a thousand times."

There was no doubt in her mind that this step, which had evidently been extremely painful to himself, had become necessary through some all-powerful consideration. But what could that be? By a great effort of mind Henrietta recalled, one by one, all the phrases used by M. de Brevan, in the hope that some word might give her light; but she discovered nothing. All he had told her as to the consequences of her flight, she had foreseen before she had resolved to escape. He had told her nothing new, but his duel with Sir Thorn; and, when she considered the matter, she thought that, also, quite natural. For did they not both covet with equal eagerness the fortune which she would inherit from her mother as soon as she came of age? The antagonism of their interests explained, she thought, their hatred; for she was well convinced that they hated each other mortally. The idea that Sir Thorn and M. de Brevan understood each other, and pursued a common purpose, never entered her mind; and, if it had suggested itself, she would have rejected it as absurd.

Must she, then, come to the conclusion that M. de Brevan had really, when he appeared before her, no other aim but to drive her to despair? But why should he do so? what advantage would that be to him? The man who wants to make a girl his own does not go to work to chill her with terror, and to inspire her with ineffable disgust. Still M. de Brevan had done this; and therefore he must aim at something different from that marriage of which he spoke.

What was that something? Such abominable things are not done for the mere pleasure of doing them, especially if that involves some amount of danger. Now, it was very clear, that upon Daniel's return, whether he still loved Henrietta or not, M. de Brevan would have a terrible account to give to that brave sailor who had trusted him with the care of his betrothed. Did M. de Brevan ever think of that return? Oh, yes! he did; and with secret terror. There was proof of that in one of the phrases that had escaped him.

After having said, "When Daniel returns," he had added, "if he ever returns, which is by no means sure."

Why this proviso? Had he any reasons to think that Daniel might perish in this dangerous campaign? Now she remembered, yes, she remembered distinctly, that M. de Brevan had smiled in a very peculiar way when he had said these words. And, as she recalled this, her heart sank within her, and she felt as if she were going to faint. Was he not capable of anything, the wretched man, who had betrayed him so infamously,-capable even of arming an a.s.sa.s.sin?

"Oh, I must warn Daniel!" she exclaimed, "I must warn him, and not lose a minute."

And, although she had written him a long letter only the day before, she wrote again, begging him to be watchful, to mistrust everybody, because most a.s.suredly his life was threatened. And this letter she carried herself to the post-office, convinced as she was that to confide it to Mrs. Cheva.s.sat would have been the same as to send it to M. de Brevan.

It was astonishing, however, how the estimable lady seemed to become day by day more attached to Henrietta, and how expansive and demonstrative her affections grew. At all hours of the day, and on the most trivial pretexts, she would come up, sit down, and for entire hours entertain her with her intolerable speeches. She did not put any restraint upon herself any longer, but talked "from the bottom of her heart" with her "dear little p.u.s.s.y-cat," as if she had been her own daughter. The strange doctrines at which she had formerly only hinted, she now proclaimed without reserve, boasting of an open kind of cynicism, which betrayed a terrible moral perversity. It looked as if the horrible Megsera had been deputed by Henrietta's enemies for the special purpose of demoralizing and depraving her, if possible, and to drive her into the brilliant and easy life of sin in which so many unhappy women perish.

Fortunately, in this case, the messenger was ill-chosen. The eloquence of Mrs. Cheva.s.sat, which very likely would have inflamed the imagination of some poor but ambitious girl, caused nothing but disgust in Henrietta's heart. She had gotten into the habit of thinking of other things while the old woman was holding forth; and her n.o.ble soul floated off to regions where these vulgarities could reach her no more.

Her life was, nevertheless, a very sad one. She never went out, spending her days in her chamber, reading, or working at a great embroidery, a masterpiece of patience and taste, which she had undertaken with a faint hope that it might become useful in case of distress. But a new source of trouble roused her soon after from this dull monotony. Her money grew less and less; and at last the day came when she changed the last gold-piece of her nine hundred francs. It became urgent to resort once more to the p.a.w.nbroker; for these were the first days of April, and the honeyed words of Mrs. Cheva.s.sat had given her to understand that she had better get ready to pay on the 8th her rent, which amounted to a hundred francs.

She intrusted therefore to the concierge the remaining ring to be p.a.w.ned. Calculating from the sum she had received for the first ring, she hoped to obtain for this one, at the very least, five or six hundred francs.

The concierge brought her one hundred and ninety francs.