The Count's Millions [48]
the best course, and that he must have a friend's advice.
Full of this idea, he hastily changed his clothes, and hurried from his room. His mother was watching for him--inclined to laugh at him a little; but a single glance warned her that her son was in terrible trouble, and that some dire misfortune had certainly befallen him. "Pascal, in heaven's name, what has happened?" she cried.
"A slight difficulty--a mere trifle," he replied.
"Where are you going?"
"To the Palais de Justice." And such was really the case, for he hoped to meet his most intimate friend there.
Contrary to his usual custom, he took the little staircase on the right, leading to the grand vestibule, where several lawyers were assembled, earnestly engaged in conversation. They were evidently astonished to see Pascal, and their conversation abruptly ceased on his approach. They assumed a grave look and turned away their heads in disgust. The unfortunate man at once realized the truth, and pressed his hand to his forehead, with a despairing gesture, as he murmured: "Already!--already!"
However, he passed on, and not seeing his friend, he hurried to the little conference hall, where he found five of his fellow- advocates. On Pascal's entrance, two of them at once left the hall, while two of the others pretended to be very busily engaged in examining a brief which lay open on the table. The fifth, who did not move, was not the friend Pascal sought, but an old college comrade named Dartelle. Pascal walked straight toward him. "Well?" he asked.
Dartelle handed him a Figaro, still damp from the printing-press, but crumpled and worn, as if it had already passed through more than a hundred hands. "Read!" said he.
Pascal read as follows: "There was great sensation and a terrible scandal last night at the residence of Madame d'A----, a well- known star of the first magnitude. A score of gentlemen of high rank and immense wealth were enjoying a quiet game of baccarat, when it was observed that M. F---- was winning in a most extraordinary manner. He was watched and detected in the very act of dexterously slipping some cards into the pack he held. Crushed by the overpowering evidence against him, he allowed himself to be searched, and without much demur consented to refund the fruit of his knavery, to the amount of two thousand louis. The strangest thing connected with this scandal is, that M. F----, who is an advocate by profession, has always enjoyed an enviable reputation for integrity; and, unfortunately, this prank cannot be attributed to a momentary fit of madness, for the fact that he had provided himself with these cards in advance proves the act to have been premeditated. One of the persons present was especially displeased. This was the Viscount de C----, who had introduced M. F---- to Madame d'A----. Extremely annoyed by this contretemps, he took umbrage at an offensive remark made by M. de R----, and it was rumored that these gentlemen would cross swords at daybreak this morning.
"LATER INTELLIGENCE.--We learn at the moment of going to press that an encounter has just taken place between M. de R---- and M. de C----. M. de R---- received a slight wound in the side, but his condition is sufficiently satisfactory not to alarm his friends."
The paper slipped from Pascal's hand. His features were almost unrecognizable in his passion and despair. "It is an infamous lie!" he said, hoarsely. "I am innocent; I swear it upon my honor!" Dartelle averted his face, but not quickly enough to prevent Pascal from noticing the look of withering scorn in his eyes. Then, feeling that he was condemned, that his sentence was irrevocable, and that there was no longer any hope: "I know the only thing that remains for me to do!" he murmured.
Dartelle turned, his eyes glistening with tears. He seized Pascal's hands and pressed them with sorrowful tenderness, as if taking leave of a friend who is about to die. "Courage!" he whispered.
Pascal fled like a madman. "Yes," he repeated, as he rushed along the Boulevard Saint-Michel,
Full of this idea, he hastily changed his clothes, and hurried from his room. His mother was watching for him--inclined to laugh at him a little; but a single glance warned her that her son was in terrible trouble, and that some dire misfortune had certainly befallen him. "Pascal, in heaven's name, what has happened?" she cried.
"A slight difficulty--a mere trifle," he replied.
"Where are you going?"
"To the Palais de Justice." And such was really the case, for he hoped to meet his most intimate friend there.
Contrary to his usual custom, he took the little staircase on the right, leading to the grand vestibule, where several lawyers were assembled, earnestly engaged in conversation. They were evidently astonished to see Pascal, and their conversation abruptly ceased on his approach. They assumed a grave look and turned away their heads in disgust. The unfortunate man at once realized the truth, and pressed his hand to his forehead, with a despairing gesture, as he murmured: "Already!--already!"
However, he passed on, and not seeing his friend, he hurried to the little conference hall, where he found five of his fellow- advocates. On Pascal's entrance, two of them at once left the hall, while two of the others pretended to be very busily engaged in examining a brief which lay open on the table. The fifth, who did not move, was not the friend Pascal sought, but an old college comrade named Dartelle. Pascal walked straight toward him. "Well?" he asked.
Dartelle handed him a Figaro, still damp from the printing-press, but crumpled and worn, as if it had already passed through more than a hundred hands. "Read!" said he.
Pascal read as follows: "There was great sensation and a terrible scandal last night at the residence of Madame d'A----, a well- known star of the first magnitude. A score of gentlemen of high rank and immense wealth were enjoying a quiet game of baccarat, when it was observed that M. F---- was winning in a most extraordinary manner. He was watched and detected in the very act of dexterously slipping some cards into the pack he held. Crushed by the overpowering evidence against him, he allowed himself to be searched, and without much demur consented to refund the fruit of his knavery, to the amount of two thousand louis. The strangest thing connected with this scandal is, that M. F----, who is an advocate by profession, has always enjoyed an enviable reputation for integrity; and, unfortunately, this prank cannot be attributed to a momentary fit of madness, for the fact that he had provided himself with these cards in advance proves the act to have been premeditated. One of the persons present was especially displeased. This was the Viscount de C----, who had introduced M. F---- to Madame d'A----. Extremely annoyed by this contretemps, he took umbrage at an offensive remark made by M. de R----, and it was rumored that these gentlemen would cross swords at daybreak this morning.
"LATER INTELLIGENCE.--We learn at the moment of going to press that an encounter has just taken place between M. de R---- and M. de C----. M. de R---- received a slight wound in the side, but his condition is sufficiently satisfactory not to alarm his friends."
The paper slipped from Pascal's hand. His features were almost unrecognizable in his passion and despair. "It is an infamous lie!" he said, hoarsely. "I am innocent; I swear it upon my honor!" Dartelle averted his face, but not quickly enough to prevent Pascal from noticing the look of withering scorn in his eyes. Then, feeling that he was condemned, that his sentence was irrevocable, and that there was no longer any hope: "I know the only thing that remains for me to do!" he murmured.
Dartelle turned, his eyes glistening with tears. He seized Pascal's hands and pressed them with sorrowful tenderness, as if taking leave of a friend who is about to die. "Courage!" he whispered.
Pascal fled like a madman. "Yes," he repeated, as he rushed along the Boulevard Saint-Michel,