Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Clique of Gold by Emile Gaboriau (inspirational books .txt) 📖
- Author: Emile Gaboriau
Book online «The Clique of Gold by Emile Gaboriau (inspirational books .txt) 📖». Author Emile Gaboriau
“I am sorry to say I do not understand you yet.”
“What? Don’t you see that the position of these daring adventurers, however secure it may appear, may, after all, hang on a single thread? and that nothing is wanting in order to cut that thread but an opportunity? And when you may expect, at any moment, any thing and every thing, what is to be done but to wait and watch?”
Daniel did not seem to be convinced. He added,—
“Miss Sarah will talk to me about her marriage.”
“Certainly she will.”
“What can I say?”
“Nothing,—neither yes nor no,—but smile, or run away; at all events, you gain time.”
He was interrupted by Daniel’s servant, who came in, holding a card in his hand, and said,—
“Sir, there is a gentleman down stairs in a carriage, who wants to know if he would interrupt you if he came up to see you.”
“What is the gentleman’s name?”
“Count Ville-Handry. Here is his card.”
“Be quick!” said Daniel, “run down and ask him, would he please come up.”
M. de Brevan had started up, and was standing, with his hat on, near the door. As the servant left, he said,—
“I am running away.”
“Why?”
“Because the count must not find me here. You would be compelled to introduce me to him; he might remember my name; and, if he were to tell Miss Sarah that I am your friend, all would be lost.”
Thereupon he turned to go; but at the same moment the outer door was opened, and he said,—
“There is the count! I am caught.”
But Daniel opened promptly the door to his bedroom, pushed him in, and shut the door. It was high time; the same moment the count entered.
VI.
The count must have risen early that day. Although it was not yet ten o’clock, he was already brilliant, rouged, dyed, and frizzed. Of course all these results had not been the work of an hour. As he entered, he drew a long breath, and said,—
“Ah! You live pretty high up, my dear Daniel.”
Poor fellow! He forgot that he was playing the young man. But he recalled himself at once, and added, full of vivacity,—
“Not that I complain of it; oh, no! A few stories to climb—what is that to me?”
At the same time he stretched out his leg, and caressed his calf, as if to exhibit its vigor and its suppleness. In the meantime, Daniel, full of respect for his future father-in-law, had drawn forward his easiest arm-chair. The count took it, and in an airy manner, which contrasted ill with his evident embarrassment, he said,—
“I am sure, my dear Daniel, you must be very much surprised and puzzled to see me here; are you not?”
“I confess, sir, I am. If you wished to speak to me, you had only to drop me a line, and I should have waited upon you at once.”
“I am sure you would! But that is not necessary. In fact, I have nothing to say to you. I should not have come to see you, if I had not missed an appointment. I was to meet one of my fellow members of the assembly, and he did not come to the place where we were to meet. On my return home, I happened to pass your house; and I said to myself, ‘Why not go up and see my sailor friend? I might ask him what he thinks of a certain young lady to whom he had, last night, the honor of being presented.’”
Now or never was the favorable moment for following Maxime’s advice; hence Daniel, instead of replying, simply smiled as pleasantly as he could.
But that did not satisfy the count; so he repeated the question more directly, and said,—
“Come, tell us frankly, what do you think of Miss Brandon?”
“She is one of the greatest beauties I have ever seen in my life.”
Count Ville-Handry’s eyes beamed with delight and with pride as he heard these words. He exclaimed,—
“Say she is the greatest beauty, the most marvellous and transcendent beauty, you ever saw. And that, M. Daniel Champcey, is her smallest attraction. When she opens her lips, the charms of her mind, beauty and her mind, and remember her admirable ingenuousness, her naive freshness, and all the treasures of her chaste and pure soul.”
This excessive, almost idiotic admiration, this implicit, absurd faith in his beloved, gave the painted face of the count a strange, almost ecstatic expression. He said to himself, but loud enough to be heard,—
“And to think that chance alone has led me to meet this angel!”
A sudden start, involuntary on the part of Daniel, seemed to disturb him; for he resumed his speech, laying great stress upon his words,—
“Yes, chance alone; and I can prove it to you.”
He settled down in his chair like a man who is going to speak for some length of time; and, in that emphatic manner which so well expressed the high opinion he had of himself, he continued,—
“You know, my friend, how deeply I was affected by the death of the Countess Ville-Handry. It is true she was not exactly the companion a statesman of my rank would have chosen. Her whole capacity rarely rose beyond the effort to distinguish a ball-dress from a dinner-dress. But she was a good woman, attentive, discreet, and devoted to me; an excellent manager, economical, and yet always sure to do honor to the high reputation of my house.”
Thus, in all sincerity, the count spoke of her who had literally made him, and who, for sixteen long years, had galvanized his empty head.
“In short,” he continued, “the loss of my wife so completely upset me, that I lost all taste for the occupations which had so far been dear to me; and I set about to find distractions elsewhere. Soon after I had gotten into the habit of going frequently to my club, I fell in with M. Thomas Elgin, and, although we never became intimate, we always exchanged a friendly greeting, and occasionally a cigar.
“Sir Thorn, as they call him, is an excellent horseman, you know, and used to ride out every morning at an early hour; and as the physicians had recommended to me horseback exercise, and as I like it, because I excel in
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