The Eight Strokes of the Clock Maurice Leblanc (android e book reader .txt) đ
- Author: Maurice Leblanc
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âHave you never questioned him on this point?â
âYes, I have, twice. The first time, he said that his auntâs name was Vaurois and his motherâs dâImbleval.â
âAnd the second time?â
âHe told me the contrary: he spoke of his mother as Vaurois and of his aunt as dâImbleval. I pointed this out. He coloured up and I thought it better not to question him any further.â
âDoes he live far from Paris?â
âRight down in Brittany: at the Manoir dâElseven, five miles from Carhaix.â
RĂ©nine rose and asked the girl, seriously:
âAre you quite certain that he loves you, mademoiselle?â
âI am certain of it and I know too that he represents all my life and all my happiness. He alone can save me. If he canât, then I shall be married in a weekâs time to a man whom I hate. I have promised my father; and the banns have been published.â
âWe shall leave for Carhaix, Madame Daniel and I, this evening,â said RĂ©nine.
That evening he and Hortense took the train for Brittany. They reached Carhaix at ten oâclock in the morning; and, after lunch, at half past twelve oâclock they stepped into a car borrowed from a leading resident of the district.
âYouâre looking a little pale, my dear,â said RĂ©nine, with a laugh, as they alighted by the gate of the garden at Elseven.
âIâm very fond of GeneviĂšve,â she said. âSheâs the only friend I have. And Iâm feeling frightened.â
He called her attention to the fact that the central gate was flanked by two wickets bearing the names of Madame dâImbleval and Madame Vaurois respectively. Each of these wickets opened on a narrow path which ran among the shrubberies of box and aucuba to the left and right of the main avenue. The avenue itself led to an old manor-house, long, low and picturesque, but provided with two clumsily-built, ugly wings, each in a different style of architecture and each forming the destination of one of the side-paths. Madame dâImbleval evidently lived on the left and Madame Vaurois on the right.
Hortense and RĂ©nine listened. Shrill, hasty voices were disputing inside the house. The sound came through one of the windows of the ground-floor, which was level with the garden and covered throughout its length with red creepers and white roses.
âWe canât go any farther,â said Hortense. âIt would be indiscreet.â
âAll the more reason,â whispered RĂ©nine. âLook here: if we walk straight ahead, we shanât be seen by the people who are quarrelling.â
The sounds of conflict were by no means abating; and, when they reached the window next to the front-door, through the roses and creepers they could both see and hear two old ladies shrieking at the tops of their voices and shaking their fists at each other.
The women were standing in the foreground, in a large dining-room where the table was not yet cleared; and at the farther side of the table sat a young man, doubtless Jean Louis himself, smoking his pipe and reading a newspaper, without appearing to trouble about the two old harridans.
One of these, a thin, tall woman, was wearing a purple silk dress; and her hair was dressed in a mass of curls much too yellow for the ravaged face around which they tumbled. The other, who was still thinner, but quite short, was bustling round the room in a cotton dressing-gown and displayed a red, painted face blazing with anger:
âA baggage, thatâs what you are!â she yelped. âThe wickedest woman in the world and a thief into the bargain!â
âI, a thief!â screamed the other.
âWhat about that business with the ducks at ten francs apiece: donât you call that thieving?â
âHold your tongue, you low creature! Who stole the fifty-franc note from my dressing-table? Lord, that I should have to live with such a wretch!â
The other started with fury at the outrage and, addressing the young man, cried:
âJean, are you going to sit there and let me be insulted by your hussy of a dâImbleval?â
And the tall one retorted, furiously:
âHussy! Do you hear that, Louis? Look at her, your Vaurois! Sheâs got the airs of a superannuated barmaid! Make her stop, canât you?â
Suddenly Jean Louis banged his fist upon the table, making the plates and dishes jump, and shouted:
âBe quiet, both of you, you old lunatics!â
They turned upon him at once and loaded him with abuse:
âCoward!â ââ ⊠Hypocrite!â ââ ⊠Liar!â ââ ⊠A pretty sort of son you are!â ââ ⊠The son of a slut and not much better yourself!â ââ âŠâ
The insults rained down upon him. He stopped his ears with his fingers and writhed as he sat at table like a man who has lost all patience and has need to restrain himself lest he should fall upon his enemy.
RĂ©nine whispered:
âNowâs the time to go in.â
âIn among all those infuriated people?â protested Hortense.
âExactly. We shall see them better with their masks off.â
And, with a determined step, he walked to the door, opened it and entered the room, followed by Hortense.
His advent gave rise to a feeling of stupefaction. The two women stopped yelling, but were still scarlet in the face and trembling with rage. Jean Louis, who was very pale, stood up.
Profiting by the general confusion, RĂ©nine said briskly:
âAllow me to introduce myself. I am Prince RĂ©nine. This is Madame Daniel. We are friends of Mlle. GeneviĂšve Aymard and we have come in her name. I have a letter from her addressed to you, monsieur.â
Jean Louis, already disconcerted by the newcomersâ arrival, lost countenance entirely on hearing the name of GeneviĂšve. Without quite knowing what he was saying and with the intention of responding to RĂ©nineâs courteous behaviour, he tried in his turn to introduce the two ladies and let fall the astounding words:
âMy mother, Madame dâImbleval; my mother, Madame Vaurois.â
For some time no one spoke. RĂ©nine bowed. Hortense did not know with whom she should shake hands, with Madame dâImbleval, the mother, or with Madame Vaurois, the mother. But what happened was that Madame dâImbleval and Madame Vaurois both at the same time attempted to snatch the letter which RĂ©nine was holding
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