Part 12 (1/2)
Daniel looked disgusted. He replied,-”It is hardly generous in you to make sport of me, Maxime. I may be a fool; but I am not an idiot, to be conceited to that degree.”
”That is no answer to my question,” said Brevan; ”and I repeat my question. What would you say?”
”I would say that I execrate her!”
”Oh! if you hate her so bitterly, you are very near loving her.”
”I despise her; and without esteem”- ”That is an old story. That is no impediment.”
”Finally, you know how dearly, how ardently, I love Miss Ville-Handry.”
”Of course; but that is not the same thing.”
M. de Brevan had at last finished his careful toilet. He put on a dressing-gown; and, carrying Daniel with him into the small room which he used as a dressing-room, he asked,- ”And what have you said in reply to that note?”
”Nothing.”
M. de Brevan had thrown himself into a comfortable chair, and a.s.sumed the careful air of a physician who has been consulted. He nodded, and said,- ”You have done well, and for the future I advise you to pursue the same plan. Don't say a word. Can you do any thing to prevent Miss Brandon from carrying out her purposes? No! Let her go on, then.”
”But”- ”Let me finish. It is not only your own interest to act thus, but also Miss Henrietta's interest. The day on which they part you, you will be inconsolable; but you will also be free to act. She, on the other hand, will be forced to live under the same roof with Miss Brandon; and you do not know what a stepmother can do to torture the child of her husband!”
Daniel trembled. He had already thought of that; and the idea had made him shudder. Brevan continued,- ”For the present, the most important thing is to find out how your flight has been explained. We may be able to draw our conclusions from what has been said on the subject.”
”I'll go at once and try to find out,” said Daniel.
And, after having affectionately shaken hands with Maxime, he hurried down to his carriage and drove as fast as he could to Count Ville- Handry's palace. The count was at home and alone, walking up and down in the most excited manner. And certainly he had enough to excite and preoccupy him just now. It was nearly noon; and he had not yet been in the hands of his valet. When he saw Daniel, he paused for a moment, and, crossing his arms on his breast, he said, in a terrible tone,- ”Ah! here you are, M. Champcey. Well, you are doing nice things!”
”I, count? How so?”
”How so? Who else has overwhelmed poor Miss Sarah with insults at the very time when she was trying to explain every thing to you? Who else, ashamed of his scandalous conduct, has run away, never daring to reappear at her house?”
What had the count been told? Certainly not the truth. He went on,- ”And do you know, M. Champcey, what has been the effect of your brutality? Miss Brandon has been seized with such a terrible nervous attack, that they had to send the carriage for a doctor. You unlucky man, you might have killed her! They would, of course, never have allowed me to enter her own room; but from the reception-room I could at times hear her painful cries and sobs. It was only after eight o'clock this morning that she could get any rest; and then Mrs. Brian, taking pity on my great grief, granted me the favor to see her, sleeping like an infant.”
Daniel listened, stupefied by amazement, utterly confounded by the impudence of Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian, and hardly able to understand the count's astonis.h.i.+ng credulity. He thought to himself,- ”This is abominable! Here I am an accomplice of this Miss Brandon. Must I actually aid her in obtaining possession of this unlucky man?”
But what could he do? Should he speak? Should he tell Count Ville- Handry, that if he really heard cries of pain, and sobs, they were certainly not uttered by Miss Brandon? Should he tell him, that, while he was dying with anxiety, his beloved was driving about Paris, Heaven knows where and with whom.
The thought of doing so occurred to Daniel. But what would have been the good of it? Would the count believe him? Most probably not. And thus he would only add new difficulties to his position, which was already complicated enough. Finally, he saw very, clearly that he would never dare tell the whole truth, or show that letter which he had in his pocket. Still he tried to excuse himself, and began,- ”I am too much of a gentleman to insult a woman.”
The count interrupted him rudely, saying,- ”Spare me, I pray, a rigmarole which cannot affect me. Besides, I do not blame you particularly. I know the heart of man too well not to be sure, that, in acting thus, you have followed much less the inspirations of your own heart than the suggestions made by my daughter.”
It might have been very dangerous for Henrietta to allow the count to cherish such thoughts. Daniel, therefore, tried once more to explain.
”I a.s.sure you, count”- But the count interrupted him fiercely, stamping with his foot.
”No more! I mean to make an end to this absurd opposition, and to break it forever. Do they not know that I am master in my own house? and do they propose to treat me like a servant, and to laugh at me, into the bargain? I shall make you aware who is master.”
He checked himself for an instant, and then continued,- ”Ah, M. Champcey! I did not expect that from you. Poor Sarah! To think that I could not spare her such a humiliation! But it is the last; and this very morning, as soon as she wakes, she shall know that all is ended. I have just sent for my daughter to tell her that the day for the wedding is fixed. All the formalities are fulfilled. We have the necessary papers”- He paused, for Henrietta came in.
”You wish to speak to me, papa?” she said as she entered the room.
”Yes.”
Greeting Daniel with a sweet glance of her eyes, Henrietta walked up to the count, and offered him her forehead to kiss; but he pushed her back rudely, and said, a.s.suming an air of supreme solemnity,- ”I have sent for you, my daughter, to inform you that to-morrow fortnight I shall marry Miss Brandon.”
Henrietta must have been prepared for something of the kind, for she did not move. She turned slightly pale; and a ray of wrath shot from her eyes. The count went on,- ”Under these circ.u.mstances, it is not proper, it is hardly decent, that you should not know her who is to be your mother hereafter. I shall therefore present you to her this very day, in the afternoon.”
The young girl shook her head gently, and then she said,- ”No!”
Count Ville-Handry had become very red. He exclaimed,- ”What! You dare! What would you say if I threatened to carry you forcibly to Miss Brandon's house?”
”I, should say, father, that that is the only way to make me go there.”
Her att.i.tude was firm, though not defiant. She spoke in a calm, gentle voice, but betrayed in every thing a resolution firmly formed, and not to be shaken by any thing. The count seemed to be perfectly amazed at this audacity shown by a girl who was usually so timid. He said,- ”Then you detest, you envy, this Miss Brandon?”
”I, father? Why should I? Great G.o.d! I only know that she cannot become the Countess Ville-Handry,-she who has filled all Paris with evil reports.”
”Who has told you so? No doubt, M. Champcey.”
”Everybody has told me, father.”
”So, because she has been slandered, the poor girl”- ”I am willing to think she is innocent; but the Countess Ville-Handry must not be a slandered woman.”
She raised herself to her full height, and added in a higher voice,- ”You are master here, father; you can do as you choose. But I-I owe it to myself and to the sacred memory of my mother, to protest by all the means in my power; and I shall protest.”
The count stammered and stared. The blood rose to his head. He cried out,- ”At last I know you, Henrietta, and I understand you. I was not mistaken. It was you who sent M. Daniel Champcey to Miss Brandon, to insult her at her own house.”
”Sir!” interrupted M. Daniel in a threatening tone.
But the count could not be restrained; and, with his eyes almost starting from their sockets, he continued,- ”Yes, I read your innermost heart, Henrietta. You are afraid of losing a part of your inheritance.”
Stung by this insult, Henrietta had stepped up close to her father,- ”But don't you see, father, that it is this woman who wants your fortune, and that she does not like us, and cannot like us?”
”Why, if you please?”
Once before, Count Ville-Handry had asked this question of his daughter in almost the same words. Then she had not dared answer him; but now, carried away by her bitterness at being insulted by a woman whom she despised, she forgot every thing. She seized her father's hand, and, carrying him to a mirror, she said in a hoa.r.s.e voice,- ”'Why?'-you ask. Well, look there! look at yourself!”
If Count Ville-Handry had trusted nature, he would have looked like a man of barely sixty, still quite robust and active. But he had allowed art to spoil every thing. And this morning, with his few hairs, half white, half dyed, with the rouge and the white paint of yesterday cracked, and fallen away in places, he looked as if he had lived a few thousand years.
Did he see himself as he really was,-hideous?
He certainly became livid; and coldly, for his excessive rage gave him the appearance of composure, he said,- ”You are a wretch, Henrietta!”
And as she broke out in sobs, terrified by his words, he said,- ”Oh, don't play comedy! Presently, at four o'clock precisely, I shall call for you. If I find you dressed, and ready to accompany me to Miss Brandon's house, all right. If not M. Champcey has been here for the last time in his life; and you will never-do you hear?-never be his wife. Now I leave you alone; you can reflect!”