Baron Trigault's Vengeance [119]
on that account-- he'll go. He would go to the devil if the noble Marquis de Valorsay ordered him to do so."
M. de Coralth understood Wilkie perfectly. The fear of being considered a coward by a nobleman like the Marquis de Valorsay was more than sufficient, not only to divest him of all his scruples, but even to induce him to commit any act of folly, or actually a crime. For if he had looked upon M. de Coralth as an oracle, he considered the marquis to be a perfect god.
Accordingly, as he hastened toward Madame d'Argeles's residence, he said to himself: "Why shouldn't I go to her house? I've done her no injury. Besides, she won't eat me." And remembering that he should be obliged to render a report of this interview, he resolved to assert his superiority and to remain cool and unmoved, as he had seen M. de Coralth do so often.
However, the unusual aspect of the house excited his surprise, and puzzled him not a little. Three huge furniture vans, heavily laden, were standing outside the gate. In the courtyard there were two more vehicles of the same description, which a dozen men or so were busily engaged in loading. "Ah, ha!" muttered M. Wilkie, "it was fortunate that I came--very fortunate; so she was going to run away!" Thereupon, approaching a group of servants who were in close conference in the hall, he demanded, in his most imperious manner: "Madame d'Argeles!"
The servants remembered the visitor perfectly; they now knew who he really was, and they could not understand how he could have the impudence and audacity to come there again so soon after the shameful scene of the previous evening. "Madame is at home," replied one of the men, in anything but a polite tone; "and I will go and see if she will consent to see you. Wait here."
He went off, leaving M. Wilkie in the vestibule to settle his collar and twirl his puny mustaches, with affected indifference; but in reality he was far from comfortable. For the servants did not hesitate to stare at him, and it was quite impossible not to read their contempt in their glances. They even sneered audibly and pointed at him; and he heard five or six epithets more expressive than elegant which could only have been meant for himself. "The fools!" thought he, boiling with anger. "The scoundrels! Ah! if I dared. If a gentleman like myself was allowed to notice such blackguards, how I'd chastise them!"
But the valet who had gone to warn Madame d'Argeles soon reappeared and put an end to his sufferings. "Madame will see you," said the man, impudently. "Ah! if I were in her place----"
"Come, make haste," rejoined Wilkie, indignantly, and following the servant, he was ushered into a room which had already been divested of its hangings, curtains, and furniture. He here found Madame d'Argeles engaged in packing a large trunk with household linen and sundry articles of clothing.
By a sort of miracle the unfortunate woman had survived the terrible shock which had at first threatened to have an immediately fatal effect. Still she had none the less received her death-blow. It was only necessary to look at her to be assured of that. She was so greatly changed that when M. Wilkie's eyes first fell on her, he asked himself if this were really the same person whom he had met on the previous evening. Henceforth she would be an old woman. You would have taken her for over fifty, so terrible had been the sufferings caused her by the shameful conduct of her son. In this sad-eyed, haggard-faced woman, clad in black, no one would have recognized the notorious Lia d'Argeles, who, only the evening before, had driven round the lake, reclining on the cushions of her victoria, and eclipsing all the women around her by the splendor of her toilette. Nothing now remained of the gay worldling but the golden hair which she was condemned to see always the same, since its tint had been fixed by dyes as indelible as the stains upon her past.
She rose with difficulty when M. Wilkie entered, and in the expressionless voice of those who are without hope, she asked:
M. de Coralth understood Wilkie perfectly. The fear of being considered a coward by a nobleman like the Marquis de Valorsay was more than sufficient, not only to divest him of all his scruples, but even to induce him to commit any act of folly, or actually a crime. For if he had looked upon M. de Coralth as an oracle, he considered the marquis to be a perfect god.
Accordingly, as he hastened toward Madame d'Argeles's residence, he said to himself: "Why shouldn't I go to her house? I've done her no injury. Besides, she won't eat me." And remembering that he should be obliged to render a report of this interview, he resolved to assert his superiority and to remain cool and unmoved, as he had seen M. de Coralth do so often.
However, the unusual aspect of the house excited his surprise, and puzzled him not a little. Three huge furniture vans, heavily laden, were standing outside the gate. In the courtyard there were two more vehicles of the same description, which a dozen men or so were busily engaged in loading. "Ah, ha!" muttered M. Wilkie, "it was fortunate that I came--very fortunate; so she was going to run away!" Thereupon, approaching a group of servants who were in close conference in the hall, he demanded, in his most imperious manner: "Madame d'Argeles!"
The servants remembered the visitor perfectly; they now knew who he really was, and they could not understand how he could have the impudence and audacity to come there again so soon after the shameful scene of the previous evening. "Madame is at home," replied one of the men, in anything but a polite tone; "and I will go and see if she will consent to see you. Wait here."
He went off, leaving M. Wilkie in the vestibule to settle his collar and twirl his puny mustaches, with affected indifference; but in reality he was far from comfortable. For the servants did not hesitate to stare at him, and it was quite impossible not to read their contempt in their glances. They even sneered audibly and pointed at him; and he heard five or six epithets more expressive than elegant which could only have been meant for himself. "The fools!" thought he, boiling with anger. "The scoundrels! Ah! if I dared. If a gentleman like myself was allowed to notice such blackguards, how I'd chastise them!"
But the valet who had gone to warn Madame d'Argeles soon reappeared and put an end to his sufferings. "Madame will see you," said the man, impudently. "Ah! if I were in her place----"
"Come, make haste," rejoined Wilkie, indignantly, and following the servant, he was ushered into a room which had already been divested of its hangings, curtains, and furniture. He here found Madame d'Argeles engaged in packing a large trunk with household linen and sundry articles of clothing.
By a sort of miracle the unfortunate woman had survived the terrible shock which had at first threatened to have an immediately fatal effect. Still she had none the less received her death-blow. It was only necessary to look at her to be assured of that. She was so greatly changed that when M. Wilkie's eyes first fell on her, he asked himself if this were really the same person whom he had met on the previous evening. Henceforth she would be an old woman. You would have taken her for over fifty, so terrible had been the sufferings caused her by the shameful conduct of her son. In this sad-eyed, haggard-faced woman, clad in black, no one would have recognized the notorious Lia d'Argeles, who, only the evening before, had driven round the lake, reclining on the cushions of her victoria, and eclipsing all the women around her by the splendor of her toilette. Nothing now remained of the gay worldling but the golden hair which she was condemned to see always the same, since its tint had been fixed by dyes as indelible as the stains upon her past.
She rose with difficulty when M. Wilkie entered, and in the expressionless voice of those who are without hope, she asked: