The Count's Millions [147]
that he was really frightened. "Am I about to have an attack of apoplexy?" he wondered. And, as every surrounding object seemed to whirl around him, the very floor itself apparently rising and falling under his feet, he remained on the landing waiting for this horrible vertigo to subside and doing his best to reason with himself. It was fully five minutes before he dared to risk the descent; and even when he reached the street, his features were so frightfully distorted that Chupin trembled.
He sprang out, assisted his employer into the cab, and bade the driver return to the Place de la Bourse. It was really pitiful to see the despair which had succeeded M. Fortunat's joyful confidence. "This is the end of everything," he groaned. "I'm robbed, despoiled, ruined! And such a sure thing as it seemed. These misfortunes happen to no one but me! Some one in advance of me! Some one else will capture the prize! Oh, if I knew the wretch, if I only knew him!"
"One moment," interrupted Chupin; "I think know the man."
M. Fortunat gave a violent start. "Impossible!" he exclaimed.
"Excuse me, monsieur--it must be a vile rascal named Coralth."
It was a bellow rather than a cry of rage that escaped M. Fortunat's lips. To a man of his experience, only a glimmer of light was required to reveal the whole situation. "Ah! I understand!--I see!" he exclaimed. "Yes, you are right, Victor; it's he--Coralth--Valorsay's tool! Coralth was the traitor who, in obedience to Valorsay's orders, ruined the man who loved Mademoiselle Marguerite. The deed was done at Madame d'Argeles's house. So Coralth knows her, and knows her secret. It's he who has outwitted me." He reflected for a moment, and then, in a very different tone, he said: "I shall never see a penny of the count's millions, and my forty thousand francs are gone forever; but, as Heaven hears me, I will have some satisfaction for my money. Ah!-- so Coralth and Valorsay combine to ruin me! Very well!--since this is the case, I shall espouse the cause of Mademoiselle Marguerite and of the unfortunate man they've ruined. Ah, my cherubs, you don't know Fortunat yet! Now well see if the innocent don't get the best of you, and if they don't unmask you. I shall do my best, since you have forced me to do it--and gratis too!"
Chupin was radiant; his vengeance was assured. "And I, monsieur," said he, "will give you some information about this Coralth. First of all, the scoundrel's married and his wife keeps a tobacco-shop somewhere near the Route d'Asnieres. I'll find her for you--see if I don't"
The sudden stopping of the vehicle which had reached the Place de la Bourse, cut his words short. M. Fortunat ordered him to pay the driver, while he himself rushed upstairs, eager to arrange his plan of campaign--to use his own expression. In his absence a commissionaire had brought a letter for him which Madame Dodelin now produced. He broke the seal, and read to his intense surprise: "Monsieur--I am the ward of the late Count de Chalusse. I must speak to you. Will you grant me an interview on Wednesday next, at a quarter-past three o'clock? Yours respectfully,
"MARGUERITE."
XX.
When Mademoiselle Marguerite left the dead count's bedside at ten o'clock at night to repair to Pascal Ferailleur's house, she did not yet despair of the future. Father, friend, rank, security, fortune--she had lost all these in a single moment--but she could still see a promise of happiness in the distance.
She suffered undoubtedly, and yet she experienced a sort of bitter pleasure at the thought of uniting her life to the man who was as unfortunate as herself, who was slandered as she herself had been slandered, branded with the most cruel and unjust imputations, and had neither fortune nor friends. Others might scorn them; but what did they care for the world's disdain so long as they had the approval of their consciences? Would not their mutual esteem suffice since they loved each other? It seemed to Marguerite that their very
He sprang out, assisted his employer into the cab, and bade the driver return to the Place de la Bourse. It was really pitiful to see the despair which had succeeded M. Fortunat's joyful confidence. "This is the end of everything," he groaned. "I'm robbed, despoiled, ruined! And such a sure thing as it seemed. These misfortunes happen to no one but me! Some one in advance of me! Some one else will capture the prize! Oh, if I knew the wretch, if I only knew him!"
"One moment," interrupted Chupin; "I think know the man."
M. Fortunat gave a violent start. "Impossible!" he exclaimed.
"Excuse me, monsieur--it must be a vile rascal named Coralth."
It was a bellow rather than a cry of rage that escaped M. Fortunat's lips. To a man of his experience, only a glimmer of light was required to reveal the whole situation. "Ah! I understand!--I see!" he exclaimed. "Yes, you are right, Victor; it's he--Coralth--Valorsay's tool! Coralth was the traitor who, in obedience to Valorsay's orders, ruined the man who loved Mademoiselle Marguerite. The deed was done at Madame d'Argeles's house. So Coralth knows her, and knows her secret. It's he who has outwitted me." He reflected for a moment, and then, in a very different tone, he said: "I shall never see a penny of the count's millions, and my forty thousand francs are gone forever; but, as Heaven hears me, I will have some satisfaction for my money. Ah!-- so Coralth and Valorsay combine to ruin me! Very well!--since this is the case, I shall espouse the cause of Mademoiselle Marguerite and of the unfortunate man they've ruined. Ah, my cherubs, you don't know Fortunat yet! Now well see if the innocent don't get the best of you, and if they don't unmask you. I shall do my best, since you have forced me to do it--and gratis too!"
Chupin was radiant; his vengeance was assured. "And I, monsieur," said he, "will give you some information about this Coralth. First of all, the scoundrel's married and his wife keeps a tobacco-shop somewhere near the Route d'Asnieres. I'll find her for you--see if I don't"
The sudden stopping of the vehicle which had reached the Place de la Bourse, cut his words short. M. Fortunat ordered him to pay the driver, while he himself rushed upstairs, eager to arrange his plan of campaign--to use his own expression. In his absence a commissionaire had brought a letter for him which Madame Dodelin now produced. He broke the seal, and read to his intense surprise: "Monsieur--I am the ward of the late Count de Chalusse. I must speak to you. Will you grant me an interview on Wednesday next, at a quarter-past three o'clock? Yours respectfully,
"MARGUERITE."
XX.
When Mademoiselle Marguerite left the dead count's bedside at ten o'clock at night to repair to Pascal Ferailleur's house, she did not yet despair of the future. Father, friend, rank, security, fortune--she had lost all these in a single moment--but she could still see a promise of happiness in the distance.
She suffered undoubtedly, and yet she experienced a sort of bitter pleasure at the thought of uniting her life to the man who was as unfortunate as herself, who was slandered as she herself had been slandered, branded with the most cruel and unjust imputations, and had neither fortune nor friends. Others might scorn them; but what did they care for the world's disdain so long as they had the approval of their consciences? Would not their mutual esteem suffice since they loved each other? It seemed to Marguerite that their very