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- Author: Emile Gaboriau
Book online «The Honor of the Name by Emile Gaboriau (free ebook novel TXT) 📖». Author Emile Gaboriau
But Maurice violently interrupted him.
“There has been too much parleying already!” he exclaimed; “there have been too many remonstrances. Answer me in a word! Only understand this: if you reject me, I will return to my father’s house, and with this gun which I hold in my hand I will blow out my brains.”
This was no idle threat. It was evident that what he said, that would he do. His listeners were so convinced of this, that Marie-Anne turned to her father with clasped hands and a look of entreaty.
“You are one of us, then,” said M. Lacheneur, sternly; “but do not forget that you forced me to consent by threats; and whatever may happen to you or yours, remember that you would have it so.”
But these gloomy words produced no impression upon Maurice; he was wild with joy.
“Now,” continued M. Lacheneur, “I must tell you my hopes, and acquaint you with the cause for which I am laboring——”
“What does that matter to me?” Maurice exclaimed, gayly; and, springing toward Marie-Anne, he seized her hand and raised it to his lips, crying, with the joyous laugh of youth:
“My cause—here it is!”
Lacheneur turned away. Perhaps he recollected that a sacrifice of his pride was all that was necessary to assure the happiness of these poor children.
But if a feeling of remorse entered his mind, he drove it away, and with increased sternness, he said:
“Still, Monsieur d’Escorval, it is necessary for you to understand our agreement.”
“Make known your conditions, sir.”
“First, your visits here—after certain rumors that I have put in circulation—would arouse suspicion. You must come here only at night, and then only at hours that have been agreed upon in advance—never when you are not expected.”
The attitude of Maurice expressed his entire consent.
“Moreover, you must find some way to cross the river without having recourse to the ferryman, who is a dangerous fellow.”
“We have an old skiff. I will persuade my father to have it repaired.”
“Very well. Will you also promise me to avoid the Marquis de Sairmeuse?”
“I will.”
“Wait a moment; we must be prepared for any emergency. It may be that, in spite of our precautions, you will meet him here. Monsieur de Sairmeuse is arrogance itself; and he hates you. You detest him, and you are very hasty. Swear to me that if he provokes you, you will ignore his insults.”
“But I should be considered a coward, Monsieur!”
“Probably. Will you swear?”
Maurice hesitated, but an imploring look from Marie-Anne decided him.
“I swear!” he said, gravely.
“As far as Chanlouineau is concerned, it would be better not to let him know of our agreement—but I will take care of this matter.”
M. Lacheneur paused and reflected for a moment, as if striving to discover if he had forgotten anything.
“Nothing remains, Maurice,” he resumed, “but to give you a last and very important piece of advice. Do you know my son?”
“Certainly; we were formerly the best of comrades during our vacations.”
“Very well. When you know my secret—for I shall confide it to you without reserve—beware of Jean.”
“What, sir?”
“Beware of Jean. I repeat it.”
And he blushed deeply, as he added:
“Ah! it is a painful avowal for a father; but I have no confidence in my own son. He knows no more in regard to my plans than I told him on the day of his arrival. I deceive him, because I fear he might betray us. Perhaps it would be wise to send him away; but in that case, what would people say? Most assuredly they would say that I was very avaricious of my own blood, while I was very ready to risk the lives of others. Still I may be mistaken; I may misjudge him.”
He sighed, and added:
“Beware!”
CHAPTER XIX
So it was really Maurice d’Escorval whom the Marquis de Sairmeuse had seen leaving Lacheneur’s house.
Martial was not certain of it, but the very possibility made his heart swell with anger.
“What part am I playing here, then?” he exclaimed, indignantly.
He had been so completely blinded by passion that he would not have been likely to discover the real condition of affairs even if no pains had been taken to deceive him.
Lacheneur’s formal courtesy and politeness he regarded as sincere. He believed in the studied respect shown him by Jean; and the almost servile obsequiousness of Chanlouineau did not surprise him in the least.
And since Marie-Anne welcomed him politely, he concluded that his suit was progressing favorably.
Having himself forgotten, he supposed that everyone else had ceased to remember.
Moreover, he was of the opinion that he had acted with great generosity, and that he was entitled to the deep gratitude of the Lacheneur family; for M. Lacheneur had received the legacy bequeathed him by Mlle. Armande, and an indemnity, besides all the furniture he had chosen to take from the chateau, a total of at least sixty thousand francs.
“He must be hard to please, if he is not satisfied!” growled the duke, enraged at such prodigality, though it did not cost him a penny.
Martial had supposed himself the only visitor at the cottage on the Reche; and when he discovered that such was not the case, he became furious.
“Am I, then, the dupe of a shameless girl?” he thought.
He was so incensed, that for more than a week he did not go to Lacheneur’s house.
His father concluded that his ill-humor and gloom was caused by some misunderstanding with Marie-Anne; and he took advantage of this opportunity to gain his son’s consent to an alliance with Blanche de Courtornieu.
A victim to the most cruel doubts and fears, Martial, goaded to the last extremity, exclaimed:
“Very well! I will marry Mademoiselle Blanche.”
The duke did not allow such a good resolution to grow cold.
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