Scenes from a Courtesan's Life [240]
fruit!" said Diane, smiling. "Oh! how I wish I were the Government, for I have none of that fruit left--I have eaten it all."
"Oh! my dear, my dear!" said the elder Duchess, "you really go too far."
The two Dukes, hearing a coach stop at the door with the clatter of horses checked in full gallop, bowed to the ladies and left them, going into the Duc de Grandlieu's study, whither came the gentleman from the Rue Honore-Chevalier--no less a man than the chief of the King's private police, the obscure but puissant Corentin.
"Go on," said the Duc de Grandlieu; "go first, Monsieur de Saint- Denis."
Corentin, surprised that the Duke should have remembered him, went forward after bowing low to the two noblemen.
"Always about the same individual, or about his concerns, my dear sir," said the Duc de Grandlieu.
"But he is dead," said Corentin.
"He has left a partner," said the Duc de Chaulieu, "a very tough customer."
"The convict Jacques Collin," replied Corentin.
"Will you speak, Ferdinand?" said the Duke de Chaulieu to his friend.
"That wretch is an object of fear," said the Duc de Grandlieu, "for he has possessed himself, so as to be able to levy blackmail, of the letters written by Madame de Serizy and Madame de Maufrigneuse to Lucien Chardon, that man's tool. It would seem that it was a matter of system in the young man to extract passionate letters in return for his own, for I am told that Mademoiselle de Grandlieu had written some --at least, so we fear--and we cannot find out from her--she is gone abroad."
"That little young man," replied Corentin, "was incapable of so much foresight. That was a precaution due to the Abbe Carlos Herrera."
Corentin rested his elbow on the arm of the chair on which he was sitting, and his head on his hand, meditating.
"Money!--The man has more than we have," said he. "Esther Gobseck served him as a bait to extract nearly two million francs from that well of gold called Nucingen.--Gentlemen, get me full legal powers, and I will rid you of the fellow."
"And--the letters?" asked the Duc de Grandlieu.
"Listen to me, gentlemen," said Corentin, standing up, his weasel-face betraying his excitement.
He thrust his hands into the pockets of his black doeskin trousers, shaped over the shoes. This great actor in the historical drama of the day had only stopped to put on a waistcoat and frock-coat, and had not changed his morning trousers, so well he knew how grateful men can be for immediate action in certain cases. He walked up and down the room quite at his ease, haranguing loudly, as if he had been alone.
"He is a convict. He could be sent off to Bicetre without trial, and put in solitary confinement, without a soul to speak to, and left there to die.--But he may have given instructions to his adherents, foreseeing this possibility."
"But he was put into the secret cells," said the Duc de Grandlieu, "the moment he was taken into custody at that woman's house."
"Is there such a thing as a secret cell for such a fellow as he is?" said Corentin. "He is a match for--for me!"
"What is to be done?" said the Dukes to each other by a glance.
"We can send the scoundrel back to the hulks at once--to Rochefort; he will be dead in six months! Oh! without committing any crime," he added, in reply to a gesture on the part of the Duc de Grandlieu. "What do you expect? A convict cannot hold out more than six months of a hot summer if he is made to work really hard among the marshes of the Charente. But this is of no use if our man has taken precautions with regard to the letters. If the villain has been suspicious of his foes, and that is probable, we must find out what steps he has taken. Then, if the present holder of the letters is poor, he is open to bribery. So, no, we must make Jacques Collin speak. What a duel! He will beat me. The better plan would be to purchase those letters by exchange for another document--a letter of reprieve--and to place the man in my gang. Jacques Collin is the only man alive who is clever enough to come after me, poor Contenson
"Oh! my dear, my dear!" said the elder Duchess, "you really go too far."
The two Dukes, hearing a coach stop at the door with the clatter of horses checked in full gallop, bowed to the ladies and left them, going into the Duc de Grandlieu's study, whither came the gentleman from the Rue Honore-Chevalier--no less a man than the chief of the King's private police, the obscure but puissant Corentin.
"Go on," said the Duc de Grandlieu; "go first, Monsieur de Saint- Denis."
Corentin, surprised that the Duke should have remembered him, went forward after bowing low to the two noblemen.
"Always about the same individual, or about his concerns, my dear sir," said the Duc de Grandlieu.
"But he is dead," said Corentin.
"He has left a partner," said the Duc de Chaulieu, "a very tough customer."
"The convict Jacques Collin," replied Corentin.
"Will you speak, Ferdinand?" said the Duke de Chaulieu to his friend.
"That wretch is an object of fear," said the Duc de Grandlieu, "for he has possessed himself, so as to be able to levy blackmail, of the letters written by Madame de Serizy and Madame de Maufrigneuse to Lucien Chardon, that man's tool. It would seem that it was a matter of system in the young man to extract passionate letters in return for his own, for I am told that Mademoiselle de Grandlieu had written some --at least, so we fear--and we cannot find out from her--she is gone abroad."
"That little young man," replied Corentin, "was incapable of so much foresight. That was a precaution due to the Abbe Carlos Herrera."
Corentin rested his elbow on the arm of the chair on which he was sitting, and his head on his hand, meditating.
"Money!--The man has more than we have," said he. "Esther Gobseck served him as a bait to extract nearly two million francs from that well of gold called Nucingen.--Gentlemen, get me full legal powers, and I will rid you of the fellow."
"And--the letters?" asked the Duc de Grandlieu.
"Listen to me, gentlemen," said Corentin, standing up, his weasel-face betraying his excitement.
He thrust his hands into the pockets of his black doeskin trousers, shaped over the shoes. This great actor in the historical drama of the day had only stopped to put on a waistcoat and frock-coat, and had not changed his morning trousers, so well he knew how grateful men can be for immediate action in certain cases. He walked up and down the room quite at his ease, haranguing loudly, as if he had been alone.
"He is a convict. He could be sent off to Bicetre without trial, and put in solitary confinement, without a soul to speak to, and left there to die.--But he may have given instructions to his adherents, foreseeing this possibility."
"But he was put into the secret cells," said the Duc de Grandlieu, "the moment he was taken into custody at that woman's house."
"Is there such a thing as a secret cell for such a fellow as he is?" said Corentin. "He is a match for--for me!"
"What is to be done?" said the Dukes to each other by a glance.
"We can send the scoundrel back to the hulks at once--to Rochefort; he will be dead in six months! Oh! without committing any crime," he added, in reply to a gesture on the part of the Duc de Grandlieu. "What do you expect? A convict cannot hold out more than six months of a hot summer if he is made to work really hard among the marshes of the Charente. But this is of no use if our man has taken precautions with regard to the letters. If the villain has been suspicious of his foes, and that is probable, we must find out what steps he has taken. Then, if the present holder of the letters is poor, he is open to bribery. So, no, we must make Jacques Collin speak. What a duel! He will beat me. The better plan would be to purchase those letters by exchange for another document--a letter of reprieve--and to place the man in my gang. Jacques Collin is the only man alive who is clever enough to come after me, poor Contenson