Baron Trigault's Vengeance [11]
of actresses and courtesans; her own companions are no better--and in less than two years the million of francs which I bestowed on her as a dowry has been squandered, recklessly squandered--for there isn't a penny of it left. And, at this very hour, my daughter and my son- in-law are plotting to extort money from me. On the day before yesterday--listen carefully to this--my son-in-law came to ask me for a hundred thousand francs, and when I refused them, he threatened if I did not give them to him that he would publish some letters written by my daughter--by his wife--to some low scoundrel. I was horrified and gave him what he asked. But that same evening I learned that the husband and wife, my daughter and my son-in-law, had concocted this vile conspiracy together. Yes, I have positive proofs of it. Leaving here, and not wishing to return home that day, he telegraphed the good news to his wife. But in his delight he made a mistake in the address, and the telegram was brought here. I opened it, and read: 'Papa has fallen into the trap, my darling. I beat my drum, and he surrendered at once.' Yes, that is what he dared to write, and sign with his own name, and then send to his wife--my daughter!"
Pascal was absolutely terrified. He wondered if he were not the victim of some absurd nightmare--if his senses were not playing him false. He had little conception of the terrible dramas which are constantly enacted in these superb mansions, so admired and envied by the passing crowd. He thought that the baroness would be crushed--that she would fall on her knees before her husband. What a mistake! The tone of her voice told him that, instead of yielding, she was only bent on retaliation.
"Does your son-in-law do anything worse than you?" she exclaimed. "How dare you censure him--you who drag your name through all the gambling dens of Europe?"
"Wretch!" interrupted the baron, "wretch!" But quickly mastering himself, he remarked: "Yes, it's true that I gamble. People say, 'That great Baron Trigault is never without cards in his hands!' But you know very well that I really hold gambling in horror--that I loathe it. But when I play, I sometimes forget--for I must forget. I tried drink, but it wouldn't drown thought, so I had recourse to cards; and when the stakes are large, and my fortune is imperilled, I sometimes lose consciousness of my misery!"
The baroness gave vent to a cold, sneering laugh, and, in a tone of mocking commiseration, she said: "Poor baron! It is no doubt in the hope of forgetting your sorrows that you spend all your time-- when you are not gambling--with a woman named Lia d'Argeles. She's rather pretty. I have seen her several times in the Bois----"
"Be silent!" exclaimed the baron, "be silent! Don't insult an unfortunate woman who is a thousand times better than yourself." And, feeling that he could endure no more--that he could no longer restrain his passion, he cried: "Out of my sight! Go! or I sha'n't be responsible for my acts!"
Pascal heard a chair move, the floor creak, and a moment afterward a lady passed quickly through the smoking-room. How was it that she did not perceive him? No doubt, because she was greatly agitated, in spite of her bravado. And, besides, he was standing a little back in the shade. But he saw her, and his brain reeled. "Good Lord! what a likeness!" he murmured.
III.
It was as if he had seen an apparition, and he was vainly striving to drive away a terrible, mysterious fear, when a heavy footfall made the floor of the dining-room creak anew. The noise restored him to consciousness of his position. "It is the baron!" he thought; "he is coming this way! If he finds me here I am lost; he will never consent to help me. A man would never forgive another man for hearing what I have just heard."
Why should he not try to make his escape? The card, bearing the name of Maumejan, would be no proof of his visit. He could see the baron somewhere else some other day--elsewhere than at his own house, so that he need not fear the recognition
Pascal was absolutely terrified. He wondered if he were not the victim of some absurd nightmare--if his senses were not playing him false. He had little conception of the terrible dramas which are constantly enacted in these superb mansions, so admired and envied by the passing crowd. He thought that the baroness would be crushed--that she would fall on her knees before her husband. What a mistake! The tone of her voice told him that, instead of yielding, she was only bent on retaliation.
"Does your son-in-law do anything worse than you?" she exclaimed. "How dare you censure him--you who drag your name through all the gambling dens of Europe?"
"Wretch!" interrupted the baron, "wretch!" But quickly mastering himself, he remarked: "Yes, it's true that I gamble. People say, 'That great Baron Trigault is never without cards in his hands!' But you know very well that I really hold gambling in horror--that I loathe it. But when I play, I sometimes forget--for I must forget. I tried drink, but it wouldn't drown thought, so I had recourse to cards; and when the stakes are large, and my fortune is imperilled, I sometimes lose consciousness of my misery!"
The baroness gave vent to a cold, sneering laugh, and, in a tone of mocking commiseration, she said: "Poor baron! It is no doubt in the hope of forgetting your sorrows that you spend all your time-- when you are not gambling--with a woman named Lia d'Argeles. She's rather pretty. I have seen her several times in the Bois----"
"Be silent!" exclaimed the baron, "be silent! Don't insult an unfortunate woman who is a thousand times better than yourself." And, feeling that he could endure no more--that he could no longer restrain his passion, he cried: "Out of my sight! Go! or I sha'n't be responsible for my acts!"
Pascal heard a chair move, the floor creak, and a moment afterward a lady passed quickly through the smoking-room. How was it that she did not perceive him? No doubt, because she was greatly agitated, in spite of her bravado. And, besides, he was standing a little back in the shade. But he saw her, and his brain reeled. "Good Lord! what a likeness!" he murmured.
III.
It was as if he had seen an apparition, and he was vainly striving to drive away a terrible, mysterious fear, when a heavy footfall made the floor of the dining-room creak anew. The noise restored him to consciousness of his position. "It is the baron!" he thought; "he is coming this way! If he finds me here I am lost; he will never consent to help me. A man would never forgive another man for hearing what I have just heard."
Why should he not try to make his escape? The card, bearing the name of Maumejan, would be no proof of his visit. He could see the baron somewhere else some other day--elsewhere than at his own house, so that he need not fear the recognition