The Lerouge Case Émile Gaboriau (great novels TXT) 📖

had almost forgotten,” said he; “while you are about it, you can make the bill for twenty-six thousand francs. Your little woman ordered some dresses, which I shall deliver tomorrow; in this way they will be paid for.”

The barrister began to remonstrate. He certainly did not refuse to pay, only he thought he ought to be consulted when any purchases were made. He didn’t like this way of disposing of his money.

“What a fellow!” said the usurer, shrugging his shoulders; “do you want to make the girl unhappy for nothing at all? She won’t let you off yet, my friend. You may be quite sure she will eat up your new fortune also. And you know, if you need any money for the wedding, you have but to give me some guarantee. Procure me an introduction to the notary, and everything shall be arranged. But I must go. On Monday then.”

Noel listened, to make sure that the usurer had actually gone. When he heard him descending the staircase, “Scoundrel!” he cried, “miserable thieving old skinflint! Didn’t he need a lot of persuading? He had quite made up his mind to sue me. It would have been a pleasant thing had the count come to hear of it. Vile usurer! I was afraid, one moment, of being obliged to tell him all.”

While inveighing thus against the moneylender, the barrister looked at his watch.

“Half-past five already,” he said.

His indecision was great. Ought he to go and dine with his father? Could he leave Madame Gerdy? He longed to dine at the de Commarin mansion; yet, on the other hand, to leave a dying woman!

“Decidedly,” he murmured, “I can’t go.”

He sat down at his desk, and with all haste wrote a letter of apology to his father. Madame Gerdy, he said, might die at any moment; he must remain with her. As he bade the servant give the note to a messenger, to carry it to the count, a sudden thought seemed to strike him.

“Does madame’s brother,” he asked, “know that she is dangerously ill?”

“I do not know, sir,” replied the servant, “at any rate, I have not informed him.”

“What, did you not think to send him word? Run to his house quickly. Have him sought for, if he is not at home; he must come.”

Considerably more at ease, Noel went and sat in the sickroom. The lamp was lighted; and the nun was moving about the room as though quite at home, dusting and arranging everything, and putting it in its place. She wore an air of satisfaction, that Noel did not fail to notice.

“Have we any gleam of hope, sister?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” replied the nun. “The priest has been here, sir; your dear mother did not notice his presence; but he is coming back. That is not all. Since the priest was here, the poultice has taken admirably. The skin is quite reddened. I am sure she feels it.”

“God grant that she does, sister!”

“Oh, I have already been praying! But it is important not to leave her alone a minute. I have arranged all with the servant. After the doctor has been, I shall lie down, and she will watch until one in the morning. I will then take her place and⁠—”

“You shall both go to bed, sister,” interrupted Noel, sadly. “It is I, who could not sleep a wink, who will watch through this night.”

XIV

Old Tabaret did not consider himself defeated, because he had been repulsed by the investigating magistrate, already irritated by a long day’s examination. You may call it a fault, or an accomplishment; but the old man was more obstinate than a mule. To the excess of despair to which he succumbed in the passage outside the magistrate’s office, there soon succeeded that firm resolution which is the enthusiasm called forth by danger. The feeling of duty got the upper hand. Was it a time to yield to unworthy despair, when the life of a fellow-man depended on each minute? Inaction would be unpardonable. He had plunged an innocent man into the abyss; and he must draw him out, he alone, if no one would help him. Old Tabaret, as well as the magistrate, was greatly fatigued. On reaching the open air, he perceived that he, too, was in want of food. The emotions of the day had prevented him from feeling hungry; and, since the previous evening, he had not even taken a glass of water. He entered a restaurant on the Boulevard, and ordered dinner.

While eating, not only his courage, but also his confidence came insensibly back to him. It was with him, as with the rest of mankind; who knows how much one’s ideas may change, from the beginning to the end of a repast, be it ever so modest! A philosopher has plainly demonstrated that heroism is but an affair of the stomach.

The old fellow looked at the situation in a much less sombre light. He had plenty of time before him! A clever man could accomplish a great deal in a month! Would his usual penetration fail him now? Certainly not. His great regret was, his inability to let Albert know that someone was working for him.

He was entirely another man, as he rose from the table; and it was with a sprightly step that he walked towards the Rue St. Lazare. Nine o’clock struck as the concierge opened the door for him. He went at once up to the fourth floor to inquire after the health of his former friend, her whom he used to call the excellent, the worthy Madame Gerdy.

It was Noel who let him in, Noel, who had doubtless been thinking of the past, for he looked as sad as though the dying woman was really his mother.

In consequence of this unexpected circumstance, old Tabaret could not avoid going in for a few minutes, though he would much have preferred not doing so. He knew very well, that, being with the barrister, he