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KD16460








THE
CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY





KDIGHBO
HARVARD
COLLEGE
LIBRARY
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
I. A DUCAL MONOMANIAC . . . . .
II. A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE . . .
III. A BOLD ADVENTURE . . . . .
IV. A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION . . .
V. A BAD START . . . . .
VI. THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR..
VII. AN UNLUCKY BLOW . . . .
VIII. THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE . .
IX. THE HONOR OF THE NAME . . . . 97
X. A THUNDERBOLT . . . . . . 116
XI. MARRIAGE BELLS; FUNERAL KNELLS. . 126
XII. “RASH WORD, RASH DEED" . . . 135
XIII. A SCHEME OF VENGEANCE . . . . 153
XIV. FALSE FRIEND, OLD LOVER . . . . 161
XV. A STAB IN THE DARK . . . . . 170
XVI. HUSBAND AND LOVER . . . . . 178
XVII. BLADE TO BLADE . . . . . . 189


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
.
.
. 200
.
. 207
XVIII. THE HEIR OF CHAMPDOCE
XIX. MASCARIN SPEAKS
. .
XX. A SUDDEN CHECK . .
XXI. A MELANCHOLY MASHER .
.
.
.
.
XXII. A GENTLEMAN IN DIFFICULTIES
.
. 238
•
XXIII. RINGING THE CHANGES
XXIV. THE VANISHING BILLS .
.
.
. . 253
XXV. THE SPY . . . . .
. . . 261
XXVI. MASCARIN MOVES . . .
XXVII. A CRUEL SLUR . . . . . . 275
XXVIII. THE TEMPTER . . . .
XXIX. THE TAFILA COPPER MINES, LIMITED . 293
XXX. THE VEILED PORTRAIT . . .
XXXI. GASTON'S DILEMMA . . . .
XXXII. M. LECOQ . . . . . .
XXXIII. THROUGH THE AIR . . . . .
XXXIV. THE DAY OF RECKONING . . . . 340
XXXV. "EVERY MAN TO His Own PLACE” . 353
MMA


ILLUSTRATIONS
He knelt down by her. He raised her beautiful
head. “Speak to me, mademoiselle, I entreat
you,” cried he . . . . . . . . Frontispiece
FACING
He clasped his hands convulsively, and then fell
helplessly backwards, striking his head against
an oaken sideboard . . . . . . . . . 98
FACING
PAGE
At last he nerved himself, grasped the body, and
hurled it into the gaping grave . . . . . 194
All at once his door burst open, and a hurricane of
silks, velvets, feathers, and lace whirled in . 308





THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
CHAPTER I.
A DUCAL MONOMANIAC.
The traveller who wishes to go from Poitiers to
London by the shortest route will find that the sim-
plest way is to take a seat in the stage-coach which
runs to Saumur; and when you book your place, the
polite clerk tells you that you must take your seat
punctually at six o'clock. The next morning, there-
fore, the traveller has to rise from his bed at a very
early hour, and make a hurried and incomplete toilet,
and on arriving, flushed and panting, at the office,
discover that there was no occasion for such extreme
haste.
In the hotel from whence the coach starts every one
seems to be asleep, and a waiter, whose eyes are
scarcely open, wanders languidly about. There is not
the slightest good in losing your temper, or in pouring
out a string of violent remonstrances. In a small
restaurant opposite a cup of hot coffee can be pro-
cured, and it is there that the disappointed travellers
congregate, to await the hour when the coach really
makes a start.
At length, however, all is ready, the conductor utters
a tremendous execration, the coachman cracks his
whip, the horses spring forward, the wheels rattle, and


THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
the coach is off at last. Whilst the conductor smokes
his pipe tranquilly, the passengers gaze out of the
windows and admire the beautiful aspect of the sur-
Jounding country. On each side stretch the woods
and fields of Bevron. The covers are full of game,
which has increased enormously, as the owner of the
property has never allowed a shot to be fired since
he had the misfortune, some twenty years ago, to
kill one of his dependents whilst out shooting. On
the right hand side some distance off rise the
tower and battlements of the Château de Mussidan.
It is two years ago since the Dowager Countess of
Chevanche died, leaving all her fortune to her niece,
Mademoiselle Sabine de Mussidan. She was a kind-
hearted woman, rough and ready in her manner, but
very popular amongst the peasantry. Farther off, on
the top of some rising ground, appears an imposing
structure, of an ancient style of architecture; this is
the ancient residence of the Dukes of Champdoce.
The left wing is a picturesque mass of ruins; the roof
has fallen in, and the mullions of the windows are
dotted with a thick growth of clustering ivy. Rain,
storm, and sunshine have all done their work, and
painted the mouldering walls with a hundred varied
tints. In 1840 the inheritor of one of the noblest names
of France resided here with his only son. The name of
the present proprietor was Cæsar Guillaume Duepair
de Champdoce. He was looked upon both by the gen-
try and peasantry of the country side as a most eccen-
tric individual. He could be seen any day wandering
about, dressed in the most shabby manner, and wear-
ing a coat that was frequently in urgent need of re-
pair, a leathern cap on his head, wooden shoes, and
a stout oaken cudgel in his hand. In winter he


A DUCAL MONOMANIAC
supplemented to these an ancient sheepskin coat. He
was sixty years of age, very powerfully built, and
possessing enormous strength. The expression upon
his face showed that his will was as strong as his
thews and sinews. Beneath his shaggy eyebrows
twinkled a pair of light-gray eyes, which darkened
when a fit of passion overtook him, and this was no
unusual occurrence.
During his military career in the army of the Condé,
he had received a sabre cut across his cheek, and the
cicatrice imparted a strange and unpleasant expres-
sion to his face. He was not a bad-hearted man, but
headstrong, violent, and tyrannical to a degree. The
peasants saluted him with a mixture of respect and
dread as he walked to the chapel, to which he was
a regular attendant on Sundays, with his son. Dur-
ing the Mass he made the responses in an audible
voice, and at its conclusion invariably put a five-franc
piece into the plate. This, his subscription to the
newspaper, and the sum he paid for being shaved
twice each week, constituted the whole of his outlay
upon himself. He kept an excellent table, however;
plump fowls, vegetables of all kinds, and the most
delicious fruit were never absent from it. Everything,
however, that appeared upon his well-plenished board
was the produce of his fields, gardens, or woods. The
nobility and gentry of the neighborhood frequently
invited him to their hospitable tables, for they looked
upon him as the head and chief of the nobility of
the county; but he always refused their invitations,
saying plainly, “No man who has the slightest re-
spect for himself will accept hospitalities which he is
not in a position to return.” It was not the grinding
clutch of poverty that drove the Duke to this exercise


4.
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
of severe economy, for his income from his estates
brought him in fifty thousand francs per annum; and it
was reported that his investments brought him in as
much more. As a matter of course, therefore, he was
looked upon as a miser, and a victim to the sordid
vice of avarice.
His past life might, in some degree, offer an ex-
planation of this conduct. Born in 1780, the Duke
de Champdoce had joined the band of emigrants
which swelled the ranks of Condé's army. An im-
placable opposer of the Revolution, he resided, dur-
ing the glorious days of the Empire, in London, where
dire poverty compelled him to gain a livelihood as a
fencing master at the Restoration. He came back
with the Bourbons to his native land, and, by an almost
miraculous chance, was put again in possession of
his ancestral domains. But in his opinion he was
living in a state of utter destitution as compared to
the enormous revenues enjoyed by the dead-and-gone
members of the Champdoce family; and what pained
him more was to see rise up by the side of the old
aristocracy a new race which had attached itself to
commerce and entered into business transactions. As
he gazed upon the new order of things, the man
whose pride of birtis and position almost amounted to
insanity, conceived the project to which he deter-
mined to devote the remainder of his life. He im-
agined that he hari discovered a means by which he
could restore the ancient house of Champdoce to all
its former splendor and position. “I can," said he,
" by living like a peasant and resorting to no unnec-
essary expense, treble my capital in twenty years; and
if my son and my grandson will only follow my


A DUCAL MONOMANIAC
example, the race of Champdoce will again recover
the proud position that it formerly held. Faithful
to this idea, he wedded, in 1820, although his heart
was entirely untouched, a young girl of noble birth
but utterly devoid of beauty, though possessed of a
magnificent dowry. Their union was an extremely
unhappy one, and many persons did not hesitate to
accuse the Duke of treating with harshness and severity
a young girl, who, having brought her husband five
hundred thousand francs, could not understand why
she should be refused a new dress when she urgently
needed it. After twelve months of inconceivable un-
happiness, she gave birth to a son who was baptized
Louis Norbert, and six months afterwards she sank
into an untimely grave.
The Duke did not seem to regret his loss very deeply.
The boy appeared to be of a strong and robust consti-
tution, and his mother's dowry would go to swell
the revenues of the Champdoce family. He made
his recent loss, too, the pretext for further retrench-
ments and economies.
Norbert was brought up exactly as a farmer's son
would have been. Every morning he started off
to work, carrying his day's provisions in a basket
slung upon his back. As he grew older, he was taught
to sow and reap, to estimate the value of a standing
crop at a glance, and, last but not least, to drive a hard
bargain. For a long time the Duke debated the ex-
pediency of permitting his son to be taught to read
or write; and if he did so at last, it was owing to
some severe remarks by the parish priest upon the
day on which Norbert took the sacrament for the
first time.


6 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
All went on well and smoothly until the day when
Norbert, on his sixteenth birthday, accompanied his
father to Poitiers for the first time.
At sixteen years of age, Louis Norbert de Champ-
doce looked fully twenty, and was as handsome a youth
as could be seen for miles round. The sun had given
a bronzed tint to his features which was exceedingly
becoming. He had black hair, with a slight curl run-
ning through it, and large melancholy blue eyes, which
he inherited from his mother. Poor girl! it was the
sole beauty that she had possessed. He was utterly
uncultured, and had been ruled with such a rod of
iron by his father that he had never been a league
from the Château. His ideas were barred by the little
town of Bevron, with its sixty houses, its town hall,
its small chapel, and principal river; and to him it
seemed a spot full of noise and confusion. In the
whole course of his life he had never spoken to three
persons who did not belong to the district. Bred up in
this secluded manner, it was almost impossible for him
to understand that any one could lead a different
existence to that of his own. His only pleasure was in
procuring an abundant harvest, and his sole idea of
excitement was High Mass on Sunday.
For more than a year the village girls had cast sly
glances at him, but he was far too simple and innocent
to notice this. When Mass was over, he generally
walked over the farm with his father to inspect the
work of the past week, or to set snares for the birds.
His father at last determined to give him a wider
experience, and one day said that he was to accom-
pany him to Poitiers.
At a very early hour in the morning they started
in one of the low country carts of the district, and


A DUCAL MONOMANIAC
under the seat were small sacks, containing over
forty thousand francs in silver money. Norbert had
long wished to visit Poitiers, but had never done so,
though it was but fifteen miles off. Poitiers is a quaint
old town, with dilapidated pavements and tall, gloomy
houses, the architecture of which dates from the
tenth century; but Norbert thought that it must be
one of the most magnificent cities in the world. It
was market day when they drove in, and he was abso-
lutely stupefied with surprise and excitement. He had
never believed there could be so many people in one
place, and hardly noticed that the cart had pulled up
opposite a lawyer's office. His father shook him
roughly by the shoulder.
“ Come, Norbert, lad, we are there,” said he.
The young man jumped to the ground, and assisted
mechanically to remove the sacks. The servile manner
of the lawyer did not strike him, nor did he listen to
the conversation between him and his father. Finally,
the business being concluded, they took their depart-
ure, and, driving to the Market Place, put up the
horse and cart at an old-fashioned, dingy inn, where
they took their breakfast in the public room at a table
where the wagoners were having a violent quarrel
over their meal. The Duke, however, had other busi-
ness to transact than the investment of his money, for
he wanted to find the whereabouts of a miller who
was somewhat in his debt. Norbert waited for him
in front of the inn, and could not help feeling rather
uncomfortable at finding himself alone. All at once
some one came up and touched him lightly on the
shoulder. He turned round sharply, and found him-
self face to face with a young man, who, seeing his
look of surprise, said, -


8
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“What! have you entirely forgotten your old friend
Montlouis?”
Montlouis was the son of one of the Duke's farmers,
and he and Norbert had often played together in past
years. They had driven their cows to the meadows
together, and had spent long days together fishing or
searching for birds' nests. The dress now worn by
Montlouis had at first prevented Norbert from recog-
nizing him, for he was attired in the uniform of the
college at which his father had placed him, being
desirous of making something more than a mere
farmer of his son.
“What are you doing here?” asked Norbert.
“I am waiting for my father."
“So am I. Let us have a cup of coffee together."
Montlouis led his playmate into a small wine shop
near at hand. He seemed a little disposed to presume
upon the superior knowledge of the world which he
had recently acquired.
“If there was a billiard-table here,” said he, “we
could pass away the time with a game, though, to be
sure, it runs into money."
Norbert never had had more than a few pence in
his pocket at one time, and at this remark the color
rose to his face, and he felt much humiliated.
“My father,” added the young collegian, “ gives me
all I ask for. I am certain of getting one, if not two
prizes at the next examination; and when I have taken
my degree, the Count de Mussidan has promised to
make me his steward. What do you think that you
will do?”
“I-I don't know,” stammered Norbert.
“ You will, I suppose, dig and toil in the fields, as
your father has done before you. You are the son


A DUCAL MONOMANIAC
of the noblest and the richest man for miles round,
and yet you are not so happy as I am.”
Upon the return of the Duke de Champdoce some
little time after this conversation, he did not detect
any change in his son's manner; but the words spoken
by Montlouis had fallen into Norbert's brain like a
subtle poison, and a few careless sentences uttered by
an inconsiderate lad had annihilated the education of
sixteen years, and a complete change had taken place
in Norbert's mind, a change which was utterly un-
suspected by those around him, for his manner of
bringing up had taught him to keep his own counsel.
The fixed smile on his features entirely masked
the angry feelings that were working in his breast.
He went through his daily tasks, which had once been
a pleasure to him, with utter disgust and loathing.
His eyes had been suddenly opened, and he now un-
derstood a host of things which he had never before
even endeavored to comprehend. He saw now that
his proper position was among the nobles, whom he
never saw except when they attended Mass at the little
chapel in Bevron. The Count de Mussidan, so
haughty and imposing, with his snow-white hair; the
aristocratic-looking Marquis de Laurebourg, of whom
the peasants stood in the greatest awe, were always
courteous and even cordial in their salutations, while
the noble dames smiled graciously upon him. Proud
and haughty as they were, they evidently looked upon
his father and himself as their equals, in spite of
the coarse garments that they wore. The realization of
these facts effected a great change in Norbert. He
was the equal of all these people, and yet how great
a gulf separated him from them. While he and his
father tramped to Mass in heavy shoes, the others


10
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
drove up in their carriages with powdered footmen
to open the doors. Why was this extraordinary dif-
ference? He knew enough of the value of crops and
land to know that his father was as wealthy as any
of these gentlemen. The laborers on the farm said
that his father was a miser, and the villagers asserted
that he got up at night and gazed with rapture upon
the treasure that was hidden away from men's eyes.
“Norbert is an unhappy lad,” they would say. “He
who ought to be able to command all the pleasures of
life is worse off than our own children.”
He also recollected that one day, as his father was
talking to the Marquis de Laurebourg, an old lady,
who was doubtless the Marchioness, had said, “ Poor
boy! he was so early deprived of a mother's care!”
What did that mean unless it was a reflection upon
the arbitrary behavior of his father? Norbert saw
that these people always had their children with them,
and the sight of this filled him with jealousy, and
brought tears of anguish to his eyes. Sometimes, as
he trudged wearily behind his yoke of oxen, goad in
hand, he would see some of these young scions of the
aristocracy canter by on horseback, and the friendly
wave of the Hand, with which they greeted him almost
appeared to his jaundiced mind a premeditated insult.
What could they find to do in Paris, to which they all
took wing at the first breath of winter? This was a
question which he found himself utterly unable to
solve. To drink to intoxication offered no charms to
him, and yet this was the only pleasure which the vil-
lagers seemed to enjoy. Those young men must have
some higher class of entertainment, but in what could
it consist? Norbert could hardly read a line without !
spelling every word; but these new thoughts running


A DUCAL MONOMANIAC
II
through his mind caused him to study, so as to im-
prove his education. His father had often told him
that he did not like lads who were always poring over
books; and so Norbert did not discontinue his
studies, but simply avoided bringing them under his
father's notice. He knew that there was a large col-
lection of books in one of the upstairs rooms of the
Château. He managed to force the lock of the door,
and he found some thousands of volumes, of which at
least two hundred were novels, which had been the
solace of his mother's unhappy life. With all the
eagerness of a man who is at the point of starvation
and finds an unexpected store of provisions, Norbert
seized upon them. At first he had great difficulty in
dividing fact from fiction.
He arrived at two conclusions from perusing this
heterogeneous mass of literature—one was, that he
was most unhappy; and the other was, that he hated
his father with a cold and determined loathing. Had
he dared, he would have shown this feeling openly,
but the Duke de Champdoce inspired him with an un-
conquerable feeling of terror. This state of affairs
continued for some months, and at the end of that
time the Duke felt that he ought to make his son ac-
quainted with his projects. One Sunday, after sup-
per, he commenced this task. Norbert had never seen
his father so animated as he was at this moment, when
all his ancestral pride blazed in his eyes. He explained
at length the acts and deeds of those heroes who had
been the ornament of their house, and enumerated
the influential marriages which had been made by
them in the days when their very name was a power
in the land. And what remained of all their power
and rank, save their Parisian domicile, their old Châ-


12 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
teau, and some two hundred thousand francs of in-
come?
Norbert could hardly credit what he heard; he had
never believed that his father possessed such enor-
mous wealth. “Why, it is inconceivable!” he mut-
tered. And yet, as he looked round, he saw that the
surroundings were those of a peasant's cottage. How
could he endure so many discomforts and wounds to
his pride ? In his anger he absolutely started to his
feet with the intention of reproaching his father, but
his courage failed him, and he fell back into a chair,
quivering with emotion.
The Duke de Champdoce was pacing up and down
the room.
“Do you think it so little?” asked he angrily.
Norbert knew that not one of the neighboring no-
bility who had the reputation of being wealthy pos-
sessed half this annual income, and it was with a feel-
ing of bitter anger in his heart that he listened to the
broken words which fell from his father's lips. All
at once the Duke halted in front of his son's chair.
“What fortune I have now," said he in a hoarse
voice, “is little or nothing in times like these, when
the tradesman contrives to make an almost unlimited
income, and, setting up as a gentleman, imitates, not
our virtues, but our vices; while the nobles, not un-
derstanding the present hour, are in poverty and want.
Without money, nothing can be done. To hold his
own against these mushroom fortunes, a Champdoce
should possess millions. Neither you nor I, my sen,
will see our coffers overflowing with millions, but our
descendants will reap the benefit of our toil. Our an-
cestors gained their name and glory by their determi-


A DUCAL MONOMANIAC
13
nation; let us show that we are their worthy off-
spring."
As he approached the subject which had occupied
his mind entirely for years, the old noble's voice
quivered and shook.
"I have done my duty,” said he, calming himself by
a mighty effort, “and it is now your turn to do yours.
You shall marry some wealthy heiress, and you shall
bring up your son as I have reared and nurtured you.
You will be able to leave him fifteen millions; and if
he will only follow in our footsteps, he will be able to
bequeath to his heir a fortune that a monarch might
envy. And this shall and will come to pass, because it
is my fixed determination.”
This strange outburst of confidence petrified Nor-
bert.
“The task is heavy and painful,” continued the
Duke, “but it is one that several scores of illustrious
houses have accomplished. He who wishes to revive
the fallen fortunes of some mighty house must live
only in the future, and have no thought but for the
prosperity of his descendants. More than once I have
faltered and hesitated, but I have conquered my weak-
ness, and now only live to make the line of Champ-
doce the most wealthy in France. You have seen me
haggle for an hour over a wretched louis, but it was
for the reason that at a future day one of our descend-
ants might fling it to a beggar from the window of his
magnificent equipage. Next year I will take you to
Paris and show you our house there. You will see
in it the most wonderful tapestry, pictures by the best
masters, for I have ornamented and embellished it as
a lover adorns a house for a beloved mistress, and that


14 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
house, Norbert, is the home that your grandchildren
will dwell in."
The Duke uttered these words in a tone of jubilant
triumph.
“I have spoken to you thus," resumed he, after a
short pause, “because you are now of an age to listen
to the truth, and because I wished you to understand
the rules by which you are to regulate your life. You
have now arrived at years of discretion, and must do
of your own free will what you have up to this time
done at my bidding. This is all that I have to say.
To-morrow you will take twenty-five sacks of wheat
to the miller at Bevron."
Like all tyrannical despots, the Duke never con-
templated for a moment the possibility of any one
disobeying his commands; yet at this very moment
Norbert was registering a solemn mental oath that
he would never carry out his father's wishes. His
anger, which his fears had so long restrained, now
burst all bounds, and it was in the broad chestnut
tree avenue, behind the Château, far from any listen-
ing ear, that he gave way to his despair. So long as
he had only looked upon his father as a mere miser, he
had permitted himself to indulge in hope; but now he
understood him better, and saw that life-long plans,
such as the Duke had framed, were not to be easily
overruled.
"My father is mad,” said he; "yes; decidedly
mad.”
He had made up his mind that for the present he
would yield to his despotism, but afterwards, in the
future, what was he to do?
It is an easy thing to find persons to give you bad


A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE
15
advice, and the very next day Norbert found one at
Bevron in the shape of a certain man called Daumon,
a bitter enemy of the Duke.
CHAPTER II.
A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE.
DAUMON was not a native of this part of the
country, and no one knew from whence he came. He
said that he had been an attorney's clerk, and had
certainly resided for a long time in Paris. He was a
little man of fifty years of age, clean shaved, and with
a sharp and cunning expression of countenance. His
long nose, sharp, restless eyes, and thin lips, attracted
attention at first sight. His whole aspect aroused a
feeling of distrust. He had come to Beyron, some fifteen
years before, with all his provisions in a cotton hand-
kerchief slung over his shoulder. He was willing to
make money in any way, and he prospered and rose.
He owned fields, vineyards, and a cottage, which is
at the juncture of the highway to Poitiers and the
cross road that leads to Bevron. His aim and object
were to be seen everywhere, to know everybody, and
to have a finger in every pie in the neighborhood
around. If any of the farmers or the laborers wanted
small advances, they went to him, and he granted
them loans at exorbitant rates of interest. He gave
most disputants counsel, and had every point of law at
his fingers' ends. He could teach people how to sail as
close to the wind as possible, and yet to be beyond
the reach of the law. He affected to be only too


16
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
anxious to ameliorate the lot of the peasant class, and
yet he was drawing heavy sums from them by way of
interest. He endeavored by every means in his power to
rouse their feelings of animosity against both the priest-
hood and the gentry. His artful way of talking, and
the long black coat which he wore, had given him the
nickname of the “ Counsellor " in the district. The
reason why he disliked the Duke was because the lat-
ter had more than once shown himself hostile to him,
and had taken him before the court of justice, from
which Daumon only escaped by means of bribery of
suborned witnesses. He vowed that he would be re-
venged for this, and for five years had been watching
his opportunity, and this was the man whom Norbert
met when he went to deliver his corn to the miller.
As he was coming back with his empty wagon, Dau-
mon asked for a lift back as far as the cross road that
led to his cottage.
“I trust, sir," said he with the most servile courtesy,
" that you will excuse the liberty I take, but I am so
utterly crippled with rheumatism that I can hardly
walk, Marquis.”
Daumon had read somewhere that the eldest son of
a Duke was entitled to be styled Marquis, and it was
the first time that Norbert had been thus addressed.
Before this he would have laughed at the appellation,
but now his wounded vanity, and his exasperation at
the unhappy condition in which he found himself,
tempted him to accept the title without remonstrance.
“ All right, I can give you a lift,” said he, and the
Counsellor clambered into the cart.
All the time that he was showering thanks upon
Norbert for his courtesy he was watching the young
man's face carefully.


A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE
17
“Evidently," thought the Counsellor to himself,
“something unusual has taken place at the Château de
Champdoce. Was not the opportunity for revenge
here?"
Long since he had decided that through the son he
could strike the father. But he must be cautious.
“You must have been up very early, Marquis,”
said he.
The young man made no reply.
“ The Duke," resumed Daumon, “is most fortu-
nate in having such a son as you. I know more than
one father who says to his children, 'See what an ex-
cellent example the young Marquis de Champdoce sets
to you all. He is not afraid of hard work, though he
is noble by birth, and should not soil his hands by
labor.'”
A sudden lurch brought the Counsellor's eloquence
to a sudden close, but he speedily resumed again.
"I was watching you as you hefted the sacks.
Heavens! what muscles ! what a pair of shoulders !”
At any other moment Norbert would have gloried
in such laudation, but now he felt displeased and an-
noyed, and vented his anger by a sharp cut at his
team.
"When people say that you are as innocent as a
girl," continued Daumon, “ I always say that you are
a sensible young fellow after all, and that if you
choose to lead a regular life, it is far better than wast-
ing your future fortune in wine, billiards, cards, or
women.”
"I don't know that I might not do something of
the kind,” returned Norbert.
“What did you say?" answered his wily com-
panion.


18
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“I said that if I were my own master, I would live
as other young men.”
The lad paused abruptly, and Daumon's eyes
gleamed with joy.
“Aha,” murmured he to himself; “I have the
game in my own hands. I will teach his Grace to
interfere with me.”
Then, in a voice which could reach Norbert's ears,
he continued,
“Of course some parents are far too strict.”
An impatient gesture from Norbert showed him
that he had wounded him deeply.
“Yes, yes,” put in the wily Counsellor, “as the
head grows bald, and the blood begins to stagnate,
they forget,—they forget the days when all was so
different. They forget the time when they were
young, and when they sowed their wild oats with so
lavish a hand. When your father was twenty-five, he
was precious wild. Ask your father, if you do not
believe me.”
At this moment the wagon passed the cross road,
and Norbert pulled up.
“I cannot thank you enough, Marquis,” said the
Counsellor as he alighted with difficulty; “ but if you
would condescend to come and taste my brandy, I
should esteem it a great honor."
Norbert hesitated for an instant: his reasoning
powers urged him to decline the offer, but he refused
to listen to them, and, fastening his horses to a tree,
he followed Daumon down the by-road. The cottage
was an excellent one, and extremely well furnished.
A woman, who acted as Daumon's housekeeper, served
the refreshments. The office—for he called his room
an office, just as if he was a professional man—was


A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE 19
a strange-looking place. On one side was a desk
covered with account books, and against the wall were
sacks of seed. A number of books on legal matters
crowded the shelves, and from the ceiling hung a
quantity of dried herbs. The Counsellor welcomed
the heir to the dukedom of Champdoce with the
greatest deference, seated him in his own capacious
leathern arm-chair, and pressed the brandy which he
had refused upon him.
“Come, sir, another drop," said he, and, without
waiting for Norbert's assent, he replenished the glass
which stood before him.
"I got this brandy from a man down Arcachon way
in return for a kindness that I did him; for, without
boasting, I may say that I have done kindnesses for
many people in my time.” He raised his glass to his
lips as he spoke. “ It is good, is it not ? ” said he.
“ You can't get stuff with an aroma like that here-
abouts.”
The extreme deference of the man, coupled with the
excellence of the spirit, opened Norbert's heart in a
very short space of time. Up to the present the con-
duct of poor Norbert had been blameless, but now,
without knowing anything of the Counsellor's character
or reputation, he poured out all the secret sorrows of
his heart, while Daumon chuckled secretly, preserving
all the time the imperturbable face of a physician
called in to visit a patient.
“Dear me! dear me!” said he ; "this is really too
bad. Poor fellow! I really pity you. Were it not
for the deep respect that I have for the Duke, your
father, I should feel inclined to say that he was not
quite in his right senses.”
“Yes,” continued Norbert, the tears starting to his


20
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
-
eyes, “this is just how I am situated. My destiny
has been marked out for me, and I am helpless to
alter it. I had better a thousand times be lying under
the cold greensward, than vegetate thus above
ground.”
The peculiar smile on Daumon's lips caused him to
pause in his complaint.
“Perhaps,” he went on," you think that I am child-
ish in talking thus ? ”
“Not at all, Marquis, you have suffered too deeply;
but forgive me if I say that you are foolish to despond
so much over the future that lies before you."
"Future!” repeated Norbert angrily, “what is the
use of speaking to me of the future, when I may be
kept in this horrible servitude for the next thirty
years ? My father is still hale and hearty."
“What of that? You will be of age soon, and then
you will have full right to claim your mother's for-
tune.”
The extreme surprise displayed by Norbert at this
intelligence convinced the Counsellor that he was
much more unsophisticated than he had supposed him
to be.
"A man," continued he, "can, when he attains his
majority, dispose of his inheritance as he thinks fit,
and your mother's fortune will render you inde-
pendent of your father.”
“But I should never dare to claim it; how could I
venture to do so ?”
“You need not make the application personally;
your solicitor would manage all that for you; but, of
course, you must wait until you are of age.”
“But I cannot wait until then," said Norbert; “I
must at once free myself from this tyranny.”
- -
- -


A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE
21
" Luckily there are ways.”
“ Yes, and I will show you what is done every day.
Nothing is more common in noble families. Would
you like to be a soldier ?”
“No, I do not care for that, and yet— ".
“That is your last resource, Marquis. First, then,
we could lay a plaint before the court.”
“A plaint?”
“Certainly. Do you suppose that our laws do not
provide for such a case as a father exceeding the
proper bounds of parental authority? Tell me, has
the Duke, your father, ever struck you?”
“Never once.”
“Well, that is almost a pity. We will say that your
father's property is worth two millions, and yet you
everywhere as the “ Young Savage of Champdoce '!”
Norbert started to his feet.
“Who dares speak of me like that?” said he furi-
ously. “ Tell me his name."
This outburst of passion did not in the smallest
degree discompose Daumon.
“Your father has many enemies, Marquis,” he re-
ing; but you have many friends, and among them all
you will find none more devoted than myself, humble
though my position may be. Many ladies of high rank
take a great interest in you. Only a day or two ago
some persons were speaking of you in the presence
of Mademoiselle de Laurebourg, and she blushed crim-
son at your name. Do you know Mademoiselle
Diana ? "
Norbert colored.


22
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“Ah, I understand,” replied Daumon. “And when
you have broken the fetters that now bind you, we
shall see something one of these days. And now—-"
But at this moment Norbert's eyes caught a glimpse
of the old-fashioned cuckoo clock that hung on the
wall in one corner of the room. He started to his
feet.
“Why, it is dinner-time!” said he. “What upon
earth will my father say?"
“What, does he keep you in such order as that?”
But, never heeding the sarcastic question of the
Counsellor, Norbert had regained his cart, and was
driving off at full speed.
CHAPTER III.
A BOLD ADVENTURE.
DAUMON had in no way exaggerated when he said
that Norbert was spoken of as the “ Young Savage
of Champdoce,” though no one used this appellation
in an insulting form. Public opinion had changed
considerably regarding the Duke of Champdoce. The
first time that he had made his appearance, wearing
wooden shoes and a leathern jacket, every one had
laughed, but this did not affect him at all, and in the
end people began to term his dogged obstinacy indom-
itable perseverance. The gleam that shone from his
hoarded millions imparted a brilliant lustre to his
shabby garments. Why should they waste their pity
upon a man who would eventually come into a gigantic
fortune, and have the means of gratifying all his
desires ?


A BOLD ADVENTURE
23
Mothers, with daughters especially, took a great
interest in the young man, for to get a girl married
to the “ Young Savage of Champdoce” would be a
feat to be proud of; but unluckily his father watched
him with all the vigilance of a Spanish duenna. But
there was a young girl who had long since secretly
formed a design of her own, and this bold-hearted
beauty was Diana de Laurebourg. It was with per-
fect justice that she had received the name of the
“ Belle of Poitiers.” She was tall and very fair, with
a dazzling complexion and masses of lustrous hair;
but her eyes gleamed with a suppressed fire, which
plainly showed the constitution of her nature. She
had been brought up in a convent, and her parents,
who had wished her to take the veil, had only been
induced to remove her owing to her obstinate refusal
to pronounce the vows, coupled with the earnest en-
treaties of the lady superior, who was kept in a con-
stant state of ferment owing to the mutinous conduct
of her pupil. Her father was wealthy, but all the
property went over to her brother, ten years older
than herself; and so Diana was portionless, with the
exception of a paltry sum of forty thousand francs.
“My child,” said her father to her the first day of
her return, "you have come back to us once more,
and now all you have to do is to fascinate some gentle-
man who is your equal in position and who has plenty
of money. If you fail in that, back you go to the
convent."
“Time enough to talk about that some years hence,"
answered the girl with a smile; " at present I am quite
contented with being at home with you."
M. de Laurebourg had commented with some
severity upon the conduct of the Duke de Charnpdoce


24 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
towards his son, but he was perfectly willing to sacri-
fice his daughter's heart for a suitable marriage.
"I shall gain my end,” murmured the girl, “I am
sure of it.”
She had heard a friend of her father's speaking of
Norbert and his colossal expectations.
“Why should I not marry him?" she asked of her
own heart; and, with the utmost skill, she applied her-
self to the execution of her design; for the idea of
being a duchess, with an income of two hundred thou-
sand francs, was a most fascinating one. But how
was she to meet Norbert? and how bring over the
money-raking Duke to her side? Before, however,
she could decide on any plan, she felt that she must
see Norbert. He was pointed out to her one day at
Mass, and she was struck by his beauty and by an
ease of manner which even his shabby dress could
not conceal. By the quick perception which many
women possess, she dived into Norbert's inmost soul;
she felt that he suffered, and her sympathy for him
brought with it the dawn of love, and by the time she
had left the chapel she had registered a solemn vow that
she would one day be Norbert's wife. But she did not
acquaint her parents with this determination on her
part, preferring to carry out her plans without any
aid or advice. Mademoiselle Diana was shrewd and
practical, and not likely to err from want of judg-
ment. The frank and open expression of her fea-
tures concealed a mind of superior calibre, and one
which well knew how to weigh the advantages of
social rank and position. She affected a sudden sym-
pathy with the poor, and visited them constantly, and
might be frequently met in the lanes carrying soup


26 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
oughly trained dog, which will also be yours. Shoot
as much as you like, and, as you cannot go about with-
out money in your pocket, take this, but be careful
of it; for remember that extravagance on your part
will procrastinate the day upon which our descendants
will resume their proper station in the world.”
The Duke spoke for some time longer, but his son
paid no heed to his words, and was too much as-
tonished to accept the six five-franc pieces which his
father tendered to him.
“I suppose,” said the Duke at last in angry accents,
“ that you will have the grace to thank me.”
“You will find that I am not ungrateful,” stain-
mered Norbert, aroused by this reproach.
The Duke turned away impatiently.
“What has the boy got into his head now?” mut-
tered he.
It was owing to the advice of the priest of Bevron
that the Duke had acted as he had done; but this in-
dulgence came too late, for Norbert's detestation of
his tyrant was too deeply buried in his heart to be
easily eradicated.
A gun was not such a wonderful present after all-
a matter of a few francs, perhaps. Had the Duke
offered him the means of a better education, it would
be a different matter; but as it was, he would still
remain the “ Young Savage of Champdoce.”
However, Norbert took advantage of the permis-
sion accorded to him, and rambled daily over the
estate with his gun and his dog Bruno, to which he
had become very much attached. His thoughts often
wandered to Daumon; but he had made inquiries, and
had heard that the Counsellor was a most dangerous
man, who would stick at nothing; but for all that, he


A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION 27
had made up his mind to go back to him again for
further advice, though his better nature warned him
of the precipice on the brink of which he was standing.
CHAPTER IV.
A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION.
DAUMON was expecting a visit from the young man,
and had been waiting for him with the cool compla-
cency of a bird-catcher, who, having arranged all his
lines and snares, stands with folded arms until his
feathered victims fall into his net. The line that he
had displayed before the young man's eyes was the
sight of liberty. Daumon had emissaries everywhere,
and knew perfectly well what was going on at the
Château de Champdoce, and could have repeated the
exact words made use of by the Duke in his last con-
versation with his son, and was aware of the leave of
liberty that had been granted to Norbert, and was as
certain as possible that this small concession would
only hasten the rebellion of the young Marquis.
He often took his evening stroll in the direction of
Champdoce, and, pipe in mouth, would meditate over
his schemes. Pausing on the brow of a hill that over-
looked the Château, he would shake his fist, and
mutter,
“He will come; ah, yes, he must come to me!”
And he was in the right, for, after a week spent in
indecision, Norbert knocked at the door of his father's
bitterest enemy. Daumon, concealed behind the win-
dow curtain, had watched his approach, and it was


28
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
with the same air of deference that he welcomed the
Marquis, as he took care to call him; but he affected
to be so overcome by the honor of this visit that he
could only falter out,-
“Marquis, I am your most humble servant."
And Norbert, who had expected a very warm greet.
ing, was much disconcerted. For a moment he
thought of going away again, but his pride would
not permit him to do so, for he had said to himself
that it would be the act of a fool to go away this
time without having accomplished anything.
“I want to have a bit of advice from you, Counsel-
lor," said he; “for, as I have but little experience in
a certain matter, I should like to avail myself of your
knowledge.”
“You do me too much honor, Marquis," murmured
the Counsellor with a low bow.
“But surely," said the young man, "you must feel
that you are bound to assist me after all you told me
a day or two back. You mentioned two means by
which I could regain my freedom, and hinted that
there was a third one. I have come to you to-day to
ask you what it was.”
Never did any man more successfully assume an
air of astonishment than did Daumon at this moment.
“What,” said he,“ do you absolutely remember
those idle words I made use of then?"
“I do most decidedly."
The villain's heart of Daumon was filled with de-
light, but he replied,
“Oh, Marquis! you must remember that we say
many things that really have no special meaning, for
between act and intention there is a tremendous dif-


A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION
20
ference. I often speak too freely, and that has more
than once got me into trouble.”
Norbert was no fool, in spite of his want of educa-
tion, and the hot blood of his ancestors coursed freely
through his veins. He now struck the butt-end of his
gun heavily upon the floor.
“You treated me like a simpleton, then, it appears?"
remarked he angrily.
“My dear Marquis— "
“And imagined that you could trifle with me. You
managed to learn my real feelings for your own amuse-
ment; but, take care; this may cost you more than
you think.”
“Ah, Marquis, can you believe that I would act so
basely ? "
“What else can I think?”
Daumon paused for a moment, and then said,
“You will be angry when you hear what I have
to say, but I cannot help speaking the truth.”
"I shall not be angry, and you can speak freely."
"I am but a very poor and humble man. What
have I to gain by securing any note, and by encourag-
ing you to brave your father's anger ? Just think what
must happen if I opposed the all-powerful Duke de
Champdoce; why, I might find myself in prison in
next to no time.”
“And for what reason, if you please?” asked
Norbert.
“Have you never studied law in the slightest de-
gree, Marquis ? Dear me, how neglectful some par-
ents are! You are not of age, and there is a certain
article, 354 in the code, that could be so worked that
a poor humble creature like me could be locked up


30
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
for perhaps five years. The law deals very hardly
when any one has dealings with a minor, the more
especially when the father is a man of untold wealth.
If the Duke should ever discover-"
“But how could he ever do so ?”
Daumon made no reply, and his silence so plainly
showed Norbert that the Counsellor did not trust him,
that he repeated the question in an angry voice.
“Your blind subservience to your father is too
well known.”
“You believe that I should confess everything to
him?"
“You yourself told me that when his eyes were
fixed on yours you could not avoid yielding to his
will."
Norbert's anger gradually died away, as he replied
in accents of intense bitterness,
“I may be a savage, but I am not likely to become
a traitor. If I once promised to keep a secret, no
measures or tortures would tear it from me. I may
fear my father, but I am a Champdoce, and fear no
other mortal man. Do you understand me?”
“ But, Marquism "
“No other mortal man," interrupted Norbert
sternly, “will ever know from me that we have ever
exchanged words together."
An expression passed over the features of the Coun-
sellor which cast a ray of hope upon the young man's
heart.
"Upon my word,” said he, “any one would judge
from my hesitation that I had some wrong motive in
acting as I am doing, but I never give bad advice,
and any one will tell you the same about me, and this
is the breviary by which I regulate all my actions."


A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION
31
As he spoke, he took a book from his desk, and
waved it aloft.
Norbert looked puzzled and angry.
“What do you mean?” asked he.
“ Nothing, Marquis, nothing; have patience; your
majority is not far off, and you have only a few years
to wait. Remember that your father is an old man;
let him carry out his plan for a few years longer,
and ”
Norbert struck his fist savagely upon the table, cry-
ing out furiously. “It was not worth my coming here
if this was all that you had to say ;” and, whistling
to Bruno, the young man prepared to quit the room.
" Ah, Marquis! you are far too hasty,” said the
Counsellor humbly.
Norbert paused. “ Speak then,” answered he
roughly.
In a low, impressive voice, Daumon went on.
“Remember, Marquis, that though I should like to
see you have a better understanding with your father,
yet, at the same time, I should like to work for the
happiness of you both. I am like a judge in court,
who endeavors to bring about a compromise between
the litigants. Can you not, while affecting perfect sub-
mission, live in a manner more suited to you? There
are many young men of your age in a precisely similar
position.”
Norbert took a step forward and began to listen
earnestly.
“You have more liberty now,” continued Daumon.
“Pray, does your father know how you employ your
time? ”
“ He knows that I can do nothing but shoot.”
“Well, I know what I would do if I were your age.”


A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION
any; if I were to ask my father for any, he would re-
fuse me, and wonder ”
“ Have you no friends who would find you such a
sum as you would require until you came of age?”
“None at all;" and, overwhelmed with the sense of
his utter helplessness, Norbert sank back upon a chair.
After a brief period of reflection, Daumon spoke with
apparent reluctance,- .
“No, Marquis, I cannot see you so miserably un-
happy without doing my best to help you. A man is a
fool who puts out his hand to interfere between father
and son, but I will find money to lend you what you
want.”
“Will you do so, Counsellor ? "
“ Unluckily I cannot, I am only a poor fellow, but
some of the neighboring farmers intrust me with their
savings for investment. Why should I not use them to
make you comfortable and happy?.”.
Norbert was almost choked with emotion. “Can this
be done?” asked he eagerly.
“Yes, Marquis; but you understand that you will
have to pay very heavy interest on account of the risk
incurred in lending money to a minor. For the law
does not recognize such transactions, and I myself
do not like them. If I were in your place, I would
not borrow money on these terms, but wait until some
friend could help me.”
“ I have no friends," again answered the young man.
Daumon shrugged his shoulders with the air of a
man who says: “ Well, I suppose I must give in, but
at any rate I have done my duty.” Then he began
aloud, “I am perfectly aware, Marquis, that, consider-
ing the wealth that must one day be yours, this transac-
tion is a most paltry one.”


34 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
He then went on to enumerate the conditions of the
loan, and at each clause he would stop and say, “Do
you understand this?”
Norbert understood him so well that at the end of the
conversation, in exchange for the thousand francs, he
handed to the Counsellor the promissory notes for four
thousand francs each, which were made payable to two
farmers, who were entirely in Daumon's clutches. The
young man, in addition, pledged his solemn word of
honor that he would never disclose that the Counsellor
had anything to do with the transaction.
“Remember, Marquis, prudence must be strictly ob-
served. Come here to me only after the night has
set in.”
This was the last piece of advice that Daumon gave
his client; and when he was again left alone, he perured
with feelings of intense gratification, the two notes
that Norbert had signed. They were entirely correct
and binding, and drawn up in proper legal form. He
had made up his mind to let the young man have all
his savings, amounting to some forty thousand
francs, and not to press for payment until the young
man came into his fortune.
All this, however, hinged upon Norbert's silence and
discretion, for, at the first inkling of the matter, the
Duke would scatter all the edifice to the winds; but of
this happening Daumon had no fear.
As Norbert walked along, followed by his dog, he
could not resist putting his hands into his pockets and
fingering the tempting, crisp banknotes which lurked
there, and making sure that it was a reality and not a
dream. That night seemed interminable; and the next
morning, with his gun on his shoulder and his dog at
his heels, he walked briskly along the road to Poitiers.


A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION 35
He had determined to follow Daumon's advice,-to
have suitable rooms, and to make the acquaintance of
some of the students. On his arrival at Poitiers, which
he had only once before visited, Norbert felt like a half-
fledged bird who knows not how to use its wings. He
wandered about the streets, not knowing how to com-
mence what he wanted. Finally, after a sojourn in the
town of a very brief duration, he went to the inn where
he had breakfasted with his father on his former visit,
and, after an unsatisfactory meal, returned to Champ-
doce, as wretched as he had been joyful and hopeful
at his early start in the morning. But later on he went
to Daumon, who put him in communication with a
friend who, for a commission, took the unsophisticated
lad about, hired some furnished rooms, and finally in-
troduced him to the best ladies in the town, while Nor-
bert ordered clothes to the tune of five hundred francs.
He now thought himself on the high road to the full
gratification of his desires; but, alas ! the reality, com-
pared with what his imagination had pictured, ap-
peared rank and chilling. His timidity and shyness ar-
rested all his progress; he required an intimate friend,
and where could he hit upon one?
One evening he entered the Café Castille. He found
a large number of students collected there, and was a
little disgusted at their turbulent gayety, and, hastily
withdrawing, he spent the rest of the weary evening in
his own rooms with Bruno, who, for his part, would
have much preferred the open country. He had really
only enjoyed the four evenings on which he had visited
the Martre; but these limited hours of happiness did
not make up for the web of falsehood in which he had
enmeshed himself, or the daily dread of detection in
which he lived.


36
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
The Duke had noticed his son's absence, but his sus-
picions were very wide of the truth. One morning he
laughed at Norbert on the continued non-success of his
shooting
“Do your best to-day, my boy,” said he, “and try
and bring home some game, for we shall have a guest
to dinner.”
“To dinner, here?”
“Yes," answered the Duke suppressing a smile.
“ Yes, actually here; M. Puymandour is coming, and
the dining-room must be opened and put into proper
order."
"I will try and kill some game," answered Norbert
to himself as he started on his errand.
This, however, was more easily resolved on than ex-
ecuted. At last he caught sight of an impudent rabbit
near a hedge; he raised his gun and fired. A shriek of
anguish followed the report, and Bruno dashed into the
hedge, barking furiously.
CHAPTER V.
A BAD START.
DIANA DE LAUREBOURG was a strange compound;
under an appearance of the most artless simplicity she
concealed an iron will, and had hidden from every one
of her family, and even from her most intimate friends,
her firm resolve to become the Duchess of Champdoce.
All her rambles in the neighborhood had turned out
of no avail; and as the weather was now very uncertain,
it seemed as if her long strolls in the country roads and


A BAD START
37
fields would soon come to an end. “The day must
eventually come,” murmured she, “ when this invisible
prince must make his appearance." And at last the
long-expected day arrived.
It was in the middle of the month of November, and
the weather was exceedingly soft and balmy for the
time of year. The sky was blue, the few remaining
leaves rustled on the trees, and an occasional bird whis-
tled in the hedgerows. Diana de Laurebourg was
walking slowly along the path leading to Mussidan,
when all at once she heard a rustling of branches. She
turned round sharply, and all the blood in her body
seemed to rush suddenly to her heart, for through an
opening in the hedge she caught sight of the man who
for the past two months had occupied all her waking
thoughts. Norbert was waiting for something with all
the eagerness of a sportsman, his finger on the trig-
ger of his gun.
Here was the opportunity for which she had waited
so long, and with such ill-concealed impatience; and yet
she could derive no advantage from it, for what would
happen? Simply this: Norbert would bow to her, and
she would reply by a slight inclination of her head, and
perhaps two months might pass away before she met
him again. Just as she was about to take some bold
and decisive step she saw Norbert raise his gun and
point it in her direction. She endeavored to call out to
him, but her voice failed her, and in another moment
the report rang out, and she felt a sharp pang, like the
touch of a red-hot iron upon her ankle. With a wild
shriek she threw up her arms and fell upon the path-
way. She did not lose her senses, for she heard a cry
in response to her own, and the crashing of something
forcing its way through the hedge. Then she felt a


38 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
hot breath upon her face, and then something cold and
wet touched her cheek. She opened her eyes lan-
guidly, and saw Bruno licking her face and hands.
At the same moment Norbert dashed through the
hedge and stood before her. At once she realized the
advantage of her position and closed her eyes once
more. Norbert, as he hung over the seemingly uncon-
scious form of this fair young creature, felt that his
senses were deserting him, for he greatly feared that
he had killed Mademoiselle de Laurebourg. His first
impulse was to fly precipitately, and his second to give
what aid he could to his victim. He knelt down by her,
.and, to his infinite relief, found that life was not ex-
tinct. He raised her beautiful head.
“Speak to me, mademoiselle, I entreat you,"
cried he.
All this time Diana was returning thanks to kind
Providence for the fulfilment of her wishes. After a
time she made a slight move, and Norbert uttered an
exclamation of joy. Then, opening her beautiful eyes,
she gazed upon the young man with the air of a person
just awaking from a dream.
" It is I,” faltered the distracted young man, “ Nor-
bert de Champdoce. But forgive me, and tell me if you
are in pain?”
Pity came over the wounded girl. She gently drew
herself away from the arm that encircled her, and said
softly,
“ It is I who ought to apologize for my foolish weak-
ness; for I am really more frightened than hurt.”
Norbert felt that heaven had opened before his very
eyes. “Let me go for help,” exclaimed he.
“No, no; it was a mere scratch.” And, raising her


A BAD START
skirt, she displayed a foot that might have turned a
steadier head than Norbert's. “See,” said she, “it is
there that I am in pain.”
And she pointed to a spot of blood upon the delicate
white stocking. At the sight of this the young man's
terror increased, and he started to his feet.
“Let me run to the Château,” said he, “and in less
than an hour- "
“Do nothing of the kind," interrupted the girl; " it
is a mere nothing. Look, I can move my foot with
ease.”
“ But let me entreat you "
"Hush! we shall soon see what it is that has hap-
pened.” And she inspected what she laughingly termed
his terrible wound.
It was, as she had supposed, a mere nothing. One
pellet had grazed the skin, another had lodged in the
flesh, but it was quite on the surface.
“A surgeon must see to this,” said Norbert.
“No, no.” And with the point of a penknife she
pulled out the little leaden shot. The young man re-
mained still, holding his breath, as a child does when he
is putting the topmost story in a house of cards. He
had never heard so soft a voice, never gazed on so per-
fectly lovely a face. In the meantime Diana had torn
up her handkerchief and bandaged the wound. “ Now
that is over,” exclaimed she, with a light laugh, as she
extended her slender fingers to Norbert, so that he
might assist her to rise.
As soon as she was on her feet, she took a few steps
with the prettiest limp imaginable,
“Are you in pain?” said he anxiously.
“No, I am not indeed; and by this evening I shall


40.
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
have forgotten all about it. But confess, Marquis,"
she added, with a coquettish laugh," that this is a
droll way of making an acquaintance.”
Norbert started at the word Marquis, for no one
but Daumon had ever addressed him thus.
“She does not despise me,” thought he.
“ This little incident will be a lesson to me," con-
tinued she. “Mamma always has told me to keep to
the highroad; but I preferred the by-paths because of
the lovely scenery.”
· Norbert, for the first time in his life, realized that
the view was a beautiful one.
"I am this way nearly every day,” pursued Diana,
“ though I am very wicked to disobey my mother. I
go to see poor La Berven. She is dying of consump-
tion, poor thing, and I take her a little soup and wine
every now and then.”
She spoke like a real Sister of Mercy, and, in Nor-
bert's opinion, wings only were lacking to transform
her into a perfect angel.
“The poor woman has three children, and their
father does nothing for them, for he drinks what he
earns,” the young girl went on.
Berven was one of the identical men to whom Nor-
bert had given his promissory note for four thousand
francs, for he was one of the two men who had in-
trusted Daumon with their savings for investment; but
the young man was not in a condition to notice this.
Diana had meantime slung her basket on her arm.
“Before I leave you to-day,” said she, “I should so
much like to ask a favor of you.”
“A favor of me, mademoiselle? ”
“Yes; oblige me by saying nothing of what has oc-
curred to-day to any one; for should it come to my


A BAD START
41
parents' ears, they would undoubtedly deprive me of
the little liberty that they now grant me.”
“Mademoiselle," answered Norbert, “ be sure that
I will never mention the terrible accident that my awk-
wardness has caused.”
“ Thank you, Marquis,” answered the girl, with a
half-mocking courtesy. “ Another time let me advise
you, before you shoot, to look that no one is behind a
hedge."
With these words she tripped away, without her tiny
feet showing any signs of lameness. She had read
Norbert's heart like the pages of a book, and felt that
there was every chance of her winning the game. “I
am sure of it now,” said she;“ I shall be the Duchess of
Champdoce.” How grateful she felt for that untimely
shot! and she felt sure that Norbert had understood
what she meant when she had said that she went along
that path. She felt certain that the young man had not
lost one word. She believed that the only opposition
would come from his father. As she looked round
for a moment, she saw Norbert standing fixed and
motionless as the trees around him.
After Diana had departed, the unhappy lad felt as if
she had taken half his life with her. Was it all a
dream? He knelt down, and, after a slight search, dis-
covered the little pellet, the cause of all the mischief;
and, taking it up carefully, returned home. To his
extreme surprise, he found the main gateway wide
open, and from a window he heard his father's voice
calling out in kindly accents,
“Come up quickly, my boy, for our guest has
arrived.”


42
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
CHAPTER VI.
THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR.
SINCE the death of the Duchess of Champdoce the
greater portion of the Château had been closed, but the
reception rooms were always ready to be used at a very
short notice.
The dining-room was a really magnificent apartment.
There were massive buffets of carved oak, black with
age, ornamented with brass mountings. The shelves
groaned beneath their load of goblets and salvers of
the brightest silver, engraved with the haughty armo-
rial bearings of the house of Champdoce.
Standing near one of the windows, Norbert saw a
man, stout, robust, bald and red-faced, wearing a mus-
tache and slight beard. His clothes were evidently
made by a first-rate tailor, but his appearance was ut-
terly commonplace.
“This is my son," said the Duke, “the Marquis de
Champdoce. Marquis, let me introduce you to the
Count de Puymandour."
This was the first time that his father had ever ad-
dressed Norbert by his title, and he was greatly sur-
prised. The great clock in the outer hall, which had
not been going for fifteen years, now struck, and in-
stantly a butler appeared, bearing a massive silver soup
tureen, which he placed on the table, announcing sol-
emnly that his Grace was served, and the little party at
once seated themselves. A dinner in such a vast cham-
ber would have been rather dull had it not been en-
livened by the amusing tales and witty anecdotes of the
Count de Puymandour, which he narrated in a jovial


44
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
fact of dining with the eccentric Duke de Champdoce,
who never invited any one to his table, was to him, as
it were, a real patent of nobility.
At ten o'clock he rose and declared he must leave,
and the Duke escorted him the length of the avenue to
the great gates opening on the main road, and Norbert,
who walked a few paces in the rear, caught now and
then a few words of their conversation.
“Yes,” remarked Puymandour, “I will give a mill-
ion down."
Then came a few words from the Duke, of which
Norbert could only catch the words, “thousands and
millions.”
He paid, however, but little attention, for his mind
was many miles away. Since the unlooked-for meet-
ing with that fair young face, he had thought of noth-
ing else, and he mechanically shook hands with, and
bade his guest “Good-night " when his father did.
When the Duke was sure that M. de Puymandour
could not hear his voice, he took his son by the arm,
and the bitterness of feeling which he had so long re-
pressed burst forth in words.
“This,” said he, “is a specimen of the mushroom
aristocracy that has sprung up, and not a bad sample
either; for though he is puffed up by ridiculous vanity,
the man is shrewd and intelligent enough, and his de-
scendants, who will have the advantages of a better
education than their progenitors, will form a new class,
with more wealth and as much influence as the
old one."
For more than an hour the Duke de Champdoce en-
larged on his favorite topic; but he might as well have
been alone, for his son paid no attention to what he
said, for his mind was still dwelling upon his ad-


THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR
45
ventures of the morning. Again that sweet, soft laugh,
and that modulated voice rang in his ears. How fool-
ish he must have seemed to her! and what a ridiculous
figure he must have cut in her eyes! He had by no
means omitted to engrave on the tablet of his memory
the fact that Diana passed daily down the little path on
her errand of bounty, and that there he had the chance
of again seeing her. He fancied that he had so much
to say to her; but as he found that his bashfulness
would deprive him of the power of utterance, he de-
termined to commit his sentiments to paper. That
night he composed and destroyed some fifty letters.
He did not dare to say openly, “I love you,” and yet
that was exactly what he wanted to express, and he
strove, but in vain, to find words which would veil its
abruptness and yet disclose the whole strength of his
feelings. At last, however, one of his efforts satisfied
him. Rising early, he snatched up his gun, and whis-
tling to Bruno, made his way to the spot where he had
the day before seen Diana stretched upon the ground.
But he waited in vain, and hour after hour passed
away, as he paced up and down in an agony of sus-
pense. Diana did not come. The young lady had con-
sidered her plans thoroughly and kept away. The
next day he might have been again disappointed but
for a lucky circumstance. Norbert was seated on the
turf, awaiting with fond expectation the young girl's
approach and as Diana passed the opening to the path-
way Bruno scented her, and rushed forward with a
joyous bark. She had then no option but to walk up
to the spot where Norbert was seated. Both the young
people were for the moment equally embarrassed, and
Norbert stood silent, holding in his hand the letter
which had caused him so much labor to indite.


46
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“I have ventured to wait for you here, mademoi-
selle,” said he in a voice which trembled with sup-
pressed emotion, “because I was full of anxiety to
know how you have been. How did you contrive to re-
turn home with your wounded foot ? ”
He paused, awaiting a word of encouragement, but
the girl made no reply, and he continued, -
"I was tempted to call and make inquiries at your
father's house, but you had forbidden me to speak of
the accident, and I did not dare to disobey you."
"I thank you sincerely,” faltered Diana.
“Yesterday,” the young man went on, “ I passed the
whole day here. Are you angry with me for my stu-
pidity? I had thought that perhaps you had noticed my
anxiety, and might have deigned to "
He stopped short, terrified at his own audacity.
“ Yesterday," returned Diana with the most ingenu-
ous air in the world, and not appearing to perceive the
young man's embarrassment, “ I was detained at home
by my mother.”
“Yes,” replied he, “ for the past two days your form,
lying senseless and bleeding on the ground, has ever
been before my eyes, for I felt as if I were a murderer.
I shall always see your pale, white face, and how, when
I raised up your head it rested on my arm for a mo-
ment, and all the rapture ”
“ You must not talk like that, Marquis,” interrupted
Diana, but she spoke in such a low tone that Norbert
did not hear her and went on,-
“When I saw you yesterday my feelings so overpow-
ered me that I could not put them into words; but as
soon as you had left me, it appeared as if all grew dark
around me, and throwing myself on my knees, I
searched for the tiny leaden pellet that might have


THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR 47
caused your death. I at last found it, and no treasure
upon earth will ever be more prized by me."
To avoid showing the gleam of joy that flashed from
her eyes, Diana was compelled to turn her head on one
side.
“Forgive me, mademoiselle," said Norbert, in de-
spair, as he noticed this movement; “ forgive me if I
have offended you. Could you but know how dreary
my past life has been, you would pardon me. It seemed
to me, the very moment that I saw you, I had found a
woman who would feel some slight interest in me, and
that for her sweet compassion I would devote my whole
life to her. But now I see how mad and foolish I have
been, and I am plunged into the depths of despair.'”
“At your age, Marquis, you must not make use of
a word like despair.”
She accompanied these words with a glance suffi-
ciently tender to restore all Norbert's courage.
“Ah, mademoiselle,” said he ;“ do not trifle with me,
for that would be too cruel.”
She let her head droop on her bosom, and, falling
upon his knees, he poured a stream of impassioned
kisses upon her hands. Diana felt herself swept away
by this stream of passion; she gasped, and her fingers
trembled, as she found that she was trapped in the
same snare that she had set for another. Her reason
warned her that she must bring this dangerous inter-
view to a conclusion.
"I am forgetting all about my poor pensioners,” said
she.
“Ah, if I might but accompany you!”
“And so you may, but you must walk fast.”
It is quite true that great events spring from very
trivial sources; and had Diana gone to visit La Besson,


48
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
Norbert might have heard something concerning Dau-
mon that would have put him on his guard; but, ún-
fortunately, to-day Diana was bound on a visit to an old
woman in another part of the parish.
Norbert looked on whilst this fair young creature
busied herself in her work of charity, and then he
silently placed two louis from the money he had bor-
rowed, on the table, and left the cottage. Diana fol-
lowed him, and, laying her finger upon her lips with the
significant word “to-morrow," turned down the path
that led to her father's house. Norbert could hardly
believe his senses when he found himself again alone.
Yes, this lovely girl had almost confessed her affection
for him, and he was ready to pour out his life blood for
her. He tore up the letter which had cost him so much
trouble to compose, for he felt that he could make no
use of it. He had now no anxieties regarding the fu-
ture, and he thanked Providence for having caused him
to meet Diana de Laurebourg. It never entered his
brain that this apparently frank and open-hearted girl
had materially furthered the acts of Providence. At
supper that night he was so gay, and in such excellent
spirits, that even his father's attention was at last at-
tracted.
“I would lay a wager, my boy," remarked the
Duke, “ that you have had a good day's sport.”
“You would win your wager," answered the young
man boldly.
His father did not pursue the subject further; but
as Norbert felt that he must give some color to his as-
sertion, he stopped the next day, and purchased some
quails and a hare. He waited fully half an hour for
Diana ; and when she did appear, her pale face and the


50
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
growing extremely cold. One morning, as Norbert
arose from his couch, he found that a sharp icy blast
was swaying the bare branches of the trees, and that
the rain was descending in torrents. On such a day as
this he knew that it was vain to expect Diana, and,
with his heart full of sadness, he took up a book and
sat himself down by the huge fire that blazed in the
great hall.
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg had, however, gone out,
but it was in a carriage, and she had driven to a cot-
tage to see a poor woman who had broken her leg, and
who had nothing but the scanty earnings of her daugh-
ter Françoise upon which to exist. As soon as Diana
entered the cottage she saw that something had gone
wrong.
“What is the matter ?” asked she.
The poor creature, with garrulous volubility, exhib-
ited a summons which she had just received, and said
that she owed three hundred francs, and that as she
could no longer pay the interest, she had been sum-
moned, and that her little property would be seized,
and so a finishing stroke would be put to her troubles.
“ It is the Counsellor," said she, “that rogue Dau-
mon, who has done all this.”
The poor woman went on to say that when she went
to her creditor to implore a little delay, he had scoffingly
told her to send her pretty daughter to him to plead her
cause.
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg was disgusted at this
narrative, and her eyes gleamed with anger.
“I will see this wicked man,” said she, “and will
come back to you at once.”
She drove straight to the Counsellor's house. Dau-
mon was engaged in writing when the housekeeper


THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR
51
ushered Diana into the office. He rose to his feet, and,
taking off his velvet skull cap, made a profound bow,
advancing at the same time a chair for his visitor's
accommodation.
Though Diana knew nothing of this man, she was
not so unsophisticated as Norbert, and was not imposed
upon by the air of servile obsequiousness that he as-
sumed. With a gesture of contempt, she declined the
proffered seat, and this act made Daumon her bitter
enemy.
" I have come,” said she in the cold, disdainful words
in which young girls of high birth address their in-
feriors,—“I have come to you from Widow Rouleau.”
“Ah! you know the poor creature then?”
“Yes, and I take a great interest in her.”
“You are a very kind young lady,” answered the
Counsellor with a sinister smile.
“The poor woman is in the most terrible distress
both of mind and body. She is confined to her bed
with a fractured limb, and without any means of
support.”
“Yes, I heard of her accident.”
“And yet you sent her a summons, and are ready to
seize all she possesses in the world.”
Daumon put on an air of sympathy.
“Poor thing!” said he. “How true it is that mis-
fortunes never come singly!”
Diana was disgusted at the man's cool effrontery.
“ It seems to me," answered she, “that her last
trouble is of your making.”
“Is it possible?”
“Why, who is it but you who are the persecutor of
this poor lone creature?”
“I!” answered he in extreme astonishment; “ do


52
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
you really think that it is I? Ah! mademoiselle, why
do you listen to the cruel tongues of scandal-mongers ?
To make a long story short, this poor woman bought
barley, corn, potatoes, and three sheep from a man in
the neighborhood, who gave her credit to the extent of
I daresay three hundred francs. Well, in time, the
man asked-most naturally—for his money, and fail-
ing to get it, came to me. I urged him to wait, but he
would not listen to me, and vowed that if I did not do
as he wished he would go to some one else. What was
I to do? He had the law on his side too. Ah!” con-
tinued he, as though speaking to himself, “ if I could
only see a way of getting this poor creature out of her
trouble! but that cannot be done without money.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out about fifty
francs.
“This is all my worldly wealth,” said he sadly.
“But how foolish I am! for, of course, when poor
Widow Rouleau has a wealthy young lady to take an
interest in her, she must have no further fear.”
"I will speak to my father on the matter," answered
Diana in a voice which showed that she had but little
hope of interesting him in the widow's misfortunes.
Daumon's face fell.
“You will go to the Marquis de Laurebourg ?”
asked he. “Now, if you would take my advice, I
should say, go to some intimate friend,—to the Mar-
quis de Champdoce, for instance. I know," he went
on, “ that the Duke does not make his son a very
handsome allowance; but the young gentleman will
find no difficulty in raising whatever he may desire-
as it will not be long before he is of age—without
counting his marriage, which will put an enormous
sum at his disposal even before that.”


THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR 53
Diana fell in an instant into the trap the wily Dau-
mon had laid for her.
“A marriage !” exclaimed she.
“I know very little about it; only I know that if
the young man wishes to marry without his father's
consent, he will have to wait at least five years.”
“Five years?"
“Yes; the law requires that a young man who mar-
ries against his father's desire should be twenty-five
years of age.”
This last stroke was so totally unexpected, that the
girl lost her head.
“Impossible!” cried she. “Are you not making a
mistake?”
The Counsellor gave a quiet smile of triumph.
“I am not mistaken,” said he, and calmly pointed
out in the code the provision to which he had alluded.
As Diana read the passage to which his finger pointed,
he watched her as a cat watches a mouse.
“ After all, what does it matter to me?” remarked
Diana, making an effort to recover herself. “I will
speak about this poor woman's case to my father;"
and, with her limbs bending under her, she left the
room.
As Daumon returned from accompanying her to the
door, the Counsellor rubbed his hands.
“Things are getting decidedly warm,” muttered he.
He felt that he must gain some further information,
and this he could not get from Norbert. It would be
also as well, he thought, to tell the sheriff to stay pro-
ceedings relative to the Widow Rouleau. By this means
he might secure another interview with Mademoiselle
de Laurebourg, and perhaps win the poor girl's con-
fidence.


54 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
As Diana rode home, she abandoned herself to the
grief which the intelligence that she had just heard
had caused her, for the foresight of the framers of the
law had rendered all her deeply laid plans of no avail.
“ The Duke de Champdoce," murmured she to her-
self, “ will never consent to his son's marriage with so
scantily a dowered woman as I am; but as soon as Nor-
bert is of age he can marry me, in spite of all his
father's opposition; but, oh ! 'tis a dreary time to wait.”
For a moment she dared to think of the possible
death of the old man; but she shuddered as she remem-
bered how strong and healthy he was, and felt that the
frail edifice of her hope had been crushed into ten thou-
sand atoms. For all this, however, she did not lose
courage. She was not one of those women who, at the
first check, beat a retreat. She had not yet decided
upon a fresh point of departure, but she had fully
made up her mind that she would gain the victory.
The first thing was to see Norbert with as little delay
as possible. Just then the carriage pulled up at the
widow's cottage, which she entered hastily.
“I have seen Daumon,” said she. “Do not be
alarmed; all matters will be arranged shortly."
Then, without listening to the thanks and blessings
which the poor woman showered upon her, she said, -
“Give me a piece of paper to write on,” and, stand-
ing near the casement, she wrote in pencil on a soiled
scråp of paper the following words :-
“ Diana would, perhaps, have been at the usual meet-
ing place to-day, in spite of the weather, had she not
been compelled to visit a poor woman in a contrary di-
rection. Upon the same business, she will have to call
to-morrow at the house of a man named Daumon."


THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR
55
She folded the note and said, -
“ This letter must be taken at once to M. Norbert de
Champdoce. Who will carry it?”
Françoise had made a smock frock for one of the
farm servants at Champdoce, and the delivery of it
formed a good excuse for going up to the Château, and
she willingly undertook the errand.
The next day, in the midst of a heavy shower of rain,
Norbert made his appearance at Daumon's office, say-
ing, as a pretext for his visit, that he had exhausted
his stock of money, and required a fresh supply. He
too was feeling very unhappy, for he feared that his
father might entertain matrimonial designs for him
which would be utterly opposed to his passion for
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg.
Had not the inexorable old man once said, “ You will
marry a woman of wealth”? But in the event of this
matter being brought up, Norbert swore that he would
no longer be obedient, but would resist to the last; and
he calculated on receiving assistance from Daumon.
He was on the point of referring to this matter, when a
carriage drew up at the door of the cottage, and Made-
moiselle de Laurebourg descended from it. Dau-
mon at once saw how matters stood, and wasted no time
in addressing Diana.
“ The sheriff will stop proceedings,” said he. “I
can show you his letter to that effect.”
He turned away, and searched as diligently for the
letter as if it had existed anywhere except in his own
imagination.
"Dear me," said he at length. “I cannot find it.
I must have left it in the other room. I have so much
to do, that really there are times when I forget every-


56
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
thing. I must find it, however. Excuse me, I will be
back immediately."
His sudden departure from the room had been a
mere matter of calculation; for, guessing that an as-
signation had been planned, he thought that he might
know what took place at it by a little eavesdropping.
He therefore applied first his ear and then his eye to the
keyhole, and by these means acquired all the informa-
tion he desired.
A moment of privacy with the object of his affections
seemed to Norbert an inestimable boon. When Diana
had first entered, he was horrified at the terrible altera-
tion that had taken place in the expression of her face.
He seized her hand, which she made no effort to with-
draw, and gazed fixedly into her eyes.
“Tell me,” murmured he in accents of love and ten-
derness, “what it is that has gone wrong."
Diana sighed, then a tear coursed slowly down her
cheek. Norbert was in the deepest despair at these
signs of grief.
“Great heavens!” cried he. “Will you not trust
me? Am not I your truest and most devoted friend?”
At first she refused to answer him, but at length she
yielded to his entreaties, and confessed that the evening
before her father had informed her that a young man
had sought her hand in marriage, and one who was a
perfectly eligible suitor.
Norbert listened to this avowal, trembling from head
to foot, with a sudden access of jealousy.
“ And did you make no objections ? ” asked he.
“How could I?” retorted she. “What can a girl
do in opposition to the will of all her family, when she
has to choose between the alternative that she loathes,
or a life-long seclusion in a convent?”


THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR 57
Daumon shook with laughter, as he kept his ear
closely to the keyhole.
“Good business," muttered he. “Not so bad.
Here's a little girl from a convent. She has a clever
brain and a glib tongue, and under my tuition would be
a perfect wonder. If this country booby does not make
an open declaration at once, I wonder what her next
move will be ?”
“And you hesitated," said Norbert reproachfully.
“Remember you may escape from the walls of the con-
vent, but not from the bonds of an ill-assorted mar-
riage.”
Diana, who looked more beautiful than ever in her
despair, wrung her hands.
“What reason can I give to my father for declin-
ing this offer?” said she. “Every one knows that I am
almost portionless, and that I am sacrificed to my
brother, immolated upon the altar erected before the
cruel idol of family pride; and how dare I refuse a
suitable offer when one is made for my hand ?”
“ Have you forgotten me?” cried Norbert. “Have
you no love for me?”
“Ah, my poor friend, you are no more free than I
am."
“ Then you look on me as a mere weak boy?" asked
he, biting his lips.
“Your father is very powerful,” answered she in
tones of the deepest resignation; “his determination is
inflexible, and his will inexorable. You are completely
in his power.”
“What do I care for my father?” cried the young
man fiercely. “Am not I a Champdoce too? Woe
be to any one, father or stranger, who comes between
me and the woman I love devotedly; for I do love


58
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
y011, Diana, and no mortal man shall take you from
me.”
He clasped Diana to his breast, and pressed a loving
kiss upon her lips.
“Aha," muttered Daumon, who had lost nothing
from his post of espial, “ this is worth fifty thousand
francs at least to me.”
For a moment Diana remained clasped in her lover's
embrace, and then, with a faint cry, released herself
from him. She then felt that she loved him, and his
kiss and caresses sent a thrill like liquid fire through
her veins. She was half pleased and half terrified. She
feared him, but she feared herself more.
“What, Diana! would you refuse me?” asked he,
after a moment's pause. “Do you refuse me, when I
implore you to be my wife, and to share my name with
me? Will you not be the Duchess of Champdoce?”
Diana only replied with a glance; but if her eyes
spoke plainly, that look said “ Yes."
“Why, then,” returned Norbert, “should we alarm
ourselves with empty phantoms? Do you not trust me?
My father may certainly oppose my plans, but before
long I shall escape from his tyrannical sway, for I shall
be of age.”
“Ah, Norbert,” returned she sadly, "you are feed-
ing upon vain hopes. You must be twenty-five years of
age before you can marry and give the shelter of your
name to the woman whom you have chosen for your
wife.”
This was exactly the explanation for which Daumon
had been waiting.
“Good again, my young lady,” cried he. “And so
this is why she came here. There is some credit in
giving a lesson to so apt a pupil.”


THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR
59
“ It is impossible,” cried Norbert, violently agitated;
“such an iniquitous thing cannot be.”
“You are mistaken," answered Diana calmly. “Un-
fortunately I am telling you exactly how matters stand.
The law clearly fixes the age at twenty-five. During all
this time will you remember that a broken-hearted
girl- ”
“Why talk to me of law? When I am of age, I shall
have plenty of money,” broke in Norbert; "and do you
think that I will tamely submit to my father's oppres-
sion? No, I will wrest his consent from him.”
During this conversation the Counsellor was care-
fully removing the dust from the knees of his trousers.
“I will pop in suddenly,” thought he, “and catch a
word or two which will do away with the necessity of
all lengthy explanations.”
He suited the action to the word, and appeared sud-
denly before the lovers. He was not at all discon-
certed at the effect his entrance produced upon them,
and remarked placidly, “I could not find the sheriff's
letter, but I assure you that Widow Rouleau's matter
shall be speedily and satisfactorily arranged.”
Diana and Norbert exchanged glances of annoyance
at finding their secret at the mercy of such a man. This
evident distrust appeared to wound Daumon deeply.
“You have a perfect right,” remarked he dejectedly,
“ to say, “Mind your own business ; ' but the fact is,
that I hate all kinds of injustice so much that I always
take the side of the weakest, and so, when I come in
and find you deploring your troubles, I say to myself,
‘Doubtless here are two young people made for each
other.'”
“You forget yourself,” broke in Diana haughtily.
“I beg your pardon,” stammered Daumon. “I am


60
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
but a poor peasant, and sometimes I speak out too
plainly. I meant no harm, and I only hope that you
will forgive me.”
Daumon looked at Diana; and as she made no re-
ply, he went on: “Well,” says I to myself, “ here are
two young folks that have fallen in love, and have
every right to do so, and yet they are kept apart by
unreasonable and cruel-minded parents. They are
young and know nothing of the law, and without help
they would most certainly get into a muddle. Now,
suppose I take their matter in hand, knowing the law
thoroughly as I do, and being up to its weak as well
as its strong points.”
He spoke on in this strain for some minutes, and
did not notice that they had withdrawn a little apart,
and were whispering to each other.
“Why should we not trust him?” asked Norbert.
“He has plenty of experience.”
“He would betray us; he would do anything for
money."
“That is all the better for us then; for if we prom-
ise him a handsome sum, he will not say a word of
what has passed to-day.”
“Do as you think best, Norbert.”
Having thus gained Diana's assent, the young man
turned to Daumon. “I put every faith in you, and
so does Mademoiselle de Laurebourg. You know our
exact situation. What do you advise?”
“Wait and hope," answered the Counsellor. “ The
slightest step taken before you are of age will be fatal
to your prospects, but the day you are twenty-one I
will undertake to show you several methods of bring-
ing the Duke on his knees.”
· Nothing could make this speech more explicit; but


THE COUNT DE PUYMANDOUR 61
he was so cheerful and confident, that when Diana left
the office, she felt a fountain of fresh hope well up in
her heart.
This was nearly their last interview that year, for
the winter came on rapidly and with increased se-
verity, so that it was impossible for the lovers to meet
out of doors, and the fear of spying eyes prevented
them from taking advantage of Daumon's hospitality.
Each day, however, the widow's daughter, Françoise,
carried a letter to Laurebourg, and brought back a re-
ply to Champdoce. The inhabitants of the various
country houses had fled to more genial climates, and
only the Marquis de Laurebourg, who was an inveter-
ate sportsman, still lingered; but at the first heavy fall
of snow he too determined to take refuge in the mag-
nificent house that he owned in the town of Poitiers.
Norbert had foreseen this, and had taken his measures
accordingly. Two or three times in the week he
mounted his horse and rode to the town. After chang-
ing his dress, he made haste to a certain garden wall
in which there was a small door. At an agreed hour
this door would gently open, and as Norbert slipped
through he would find Diana ready to welcome him,
looking more bewitching than ever. This great pas-
sion, which now enthralled his whole life, and the cer-
tainty that his love was returned, had done away with
a great deal of his bashfulness and timidity. He had
resumed his acquaintanceship with Montlouis, and
had often been with him to the Café Castille. Mont-
louis was only for a short time at Poitiers, for as soon
as spring began he was to join the young Count de
Mussidan, who had promised to find some employment
for him. The approaching departure was not at all to
Montlouis' taste, as he was madly in love with a young


62
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
girl who resided in the town. He told all to Norbert;
and as confidence begets confidence, he more than
once accompanied the young Marquis to the door in
the garden wall of the Count de Laurebourg's town
house.
April came at last. The gentry returned to their
country houses, and in time the happy day arrived
when Diana de Laurebourg was to return to her fath-
er's country mansion. The lovers had now every op-
portunity to meet, and would exhort each other to have
patience, and a week after Diana's return they spent a
long day together in the woods. After this delicious
day, Norbert, happy and light-hearted, returned to his
father's house.
“Marquis,” said the Duke, plunging at once into the
topic nearest his heart, “ I have found a wife for you,
and in two months you will marry her.”
CHAPTER VII.
AN UNLUCKY BLOW.
The falling of a thunderbolt at his feet would have
startled Norbert less than these words did. The Duke
took, or affected to take, no notice of his son's extreme
agitation, and in a careless manner he continued,-
“I suppose, my son, that it is hardly necessary for
me to tell you the young lady's name. Mademoiselle
Marie de Puymandour cannot fail to please you. She
is excessively pretty, tall, dark, and with a fine figure.
You saw her at Mass one day. What do you think of
her?"


AN UNLUCKY BLOW
63
“ Think!” stammered Norbert. “Really I- ".
“Pshaw," replied the old gentleman; “I thought
that you had begun to use your eyes. And look here,
Marquis, you must adopt a different style of dress.
You can go over with me to Poitiers to-morrow, and
one of the tailors there will make you some clothes
suitable to your rank, for I don't suppose that you
wish to alarm your future wife by the uncouthness of
your appearance."
“ But, father "
“Wait a moment, if you please. I shall have a suite
of apartments reserved for you and your bride, and
you can pass your honeymoon here. Take care you do
not prolong it for too lengthened a period; and when it
is all over, we can break the young woman into all our
ways.”
“But," interrupted Norbert hastily, “suppose I do
not fancy this young lady? ”
“Well, what then?”
“Suppose I should beg you to save me from a mar-
riage which will render me most unhappy?”
The Duke shrugged his shoulders. “Why this is
mere childishness,” said he. “ The marriage is a most
suitable one, and it is my desire that it should take
place."
“But, father," again commenced Norbert.
“What! Are you opposing my will ? ” asked his
father angrily. “ Pray, do you hesitate ?"
“No," answered his son coldly, “ I do not hesitate."
“Very good, then. A man of no position can con-
sult the dictates of his heart when he takes a wife,
but with a nobleman of rank and station it is certainly
a different matter, for with the latter, marriage should
be looked upon as a mere business transaction. I have


64 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
made excellent arrangements. Let me repeat to you
the conditions. The Count will give two-thirds of his
fortune, which is estimated at five millions—just think
of that !—and when we get that, we shall be able to
screw and save with better heart. Think of the resto-
ration of our house, and the colossal fortune that our
descendants will one day inherit, and realize all the
beauties of a life of self-denial.”
While the Duke was uttering this string of inco-
herent sentences, he was pacing up and down the
room, and now he halted immediately in front of his
son. “You understand,” said he; "to-morrow you
will go to Poitiers, and on Sunday we will dine at the
house of your future father-in-law."
In this fearful crisis Norbert did not know what to
say or how to act.
“Father," he once more commenced, “I have no
wish to go to Poitiers to-morrow."
“What are you saying? What in heaven's name
do you mean?”
“I mean that as I shall never love Mademoiselle de
Puymandour, she will never be my wife.”
The Duke had never foreseen the chance of rebel-
lion on the part of his son, and he could not bring his
mind to receive such an unlooked-for event.
“You are mad,” said he at last,“ and do not know
what you are saying."
“I know very well.”
“Think of what you are doing.”
“I have reflected."
The Duke was making a violent effort to compose
his ordinarily violent temper.
“Do you imagine," answered he disdainfully, “ that
I shall be satisfied with an answer of this kind ? I


AN UNLUCKY BLOW
65
hope that you will submit to my wishes, for I think
that, as the head of the family, I have conceived a
splendid plan for its future aggrandizement; and do
you think that, for the mere whim of a boy, I will be
turned aside from my fixed determination?”
“No, father," answered Norbert, “it is no boyish
whim that makes me oppose your wishes. Tell me,
have I not ever been a dutiful son to you? Have I
ever refused to do what I was ordered ? No; I have
obeyed you implicitly. I am the son of the wealthiest
man in Poitiers, and I have lived like a laborer's child.
Whatever your mandates were, I have never com-
plained or murmured at them.”
“Well, and now I order you to marry Mademoiselle
de Puymandour.”
“ Anything but that; I do not love her, and I shall
never do so. Do you wish my whole life to be
blighted ? I entreat you to spare me this sacrifice!”
“My orders are given, and you must comply with
them.”
“No," answered Norbert quietly, “ I will not comply
with them.”
A purple flush passed across the Duke's face, then
it faded away, leaving every feature of a livid white-
ness.
“Great heavens !” said he in a voice before which
Norbert, at one time, would have quailed. “Whence
comes the audacity that makes you venture to dispute
my orders?”
“From the feeling that I am acting rightly.”
“How long is it that it has been right for children
to disobey their parents' commands ?”
“Ever since parents began to issue unjust com-
mands."


66
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
This speech put the finishing stroke to the Duke's
rage. He made a step across the room, towards his
son, raising the stick that he usually carried high in
the air. For a moment he stood thus, and then, cast-
ing it aside, he exclaimed, -
“No, I cannot strike a Champdoce.”
Perhaps it was Norbert's intrepid attitude that re-
strained the Duke's frenzy, for he had not moved a
muscle, but stood still, with his arms folded, and his
head thrown haughtily back.
“No, this is an act of disobedience that I will not
put up with,” exclaimed the old man in a voice of
thunder, and, springing upon his son, he grasped him
by the collar and dragged him up to a room on the
second floor, and thrust him violently through the
doorway.
“You have twenty-four hours in which to reflect
whether you will be willing to accept the wife that I
have chosen for you,” said he.
“I have already decided on that point,” answered
Norbert quietly.
The Duke made no reply, but slammed the door,
which was of massive oak, and secured by a lock of
enormous proportions.
Norbert gazed round; the only other exit from
the room was by means of a window some forty feet
from the ground. The young man, however, imagined
that some one would surely come to make up his bed
for the night; that would give him two sheets; these
he could knot together and thus secure a means of
escape. He might not be able to see Diana at once,
but he could easily send her a message by Daumon,
warning her of what had taken place. Having
arranged his plans, he threw himself into an arm-


AN UNLUCKY BLOW
chair with a more easy mind than he had experi-
enced for many months past. The decisive step had
been taken, and the relations between his father and
himself clearly defined, and thus he naturally consid-
ered great progress had been made, and the task be-
fore him seemed as nothing to what he had already
performed.
“My father,” thought he, “must be half mad with
passion.”
And Norbert was not wrong in his opinion. When
the Duke, as usual, took his place at the table, at
which the farm laborers ate their meals, not one of
them had the courage to make a single observation.
Every one knew that a serious altercation had taken
place between father and son, and each one was
devoured by the pangs of ungratified curiosity.
As soon as the meal was concluded, the Duke called
an old and trustworthy servant, who had been in his
employment for over thirty years.
" Jean,” said he, “ your young master is locked up
in the yellow room. Here is the key. Take him
something to eat.”
“Very good, your Grace.”
“Wait a little. You will spend the night in his
room and keep a strict watch upon him. He may de-
sign to make his escape. If he attempts it, restrain
him, if necessary, by physical force. Should he prove
too strong for you, call to me; I shall be near, and
will come to your aid."
This unexpected precaution upon the Duke's part
upset all Norbert's plans of escape. He endeavored
to persuade Jean to allow him to go out for a couple
of hours, giving his word of honor that he would
return at the expiration of that time. Prayers and


68
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
menaces, however, had no effect. Had the young
man gazed from the window, he would have seen his
father striding moodily up and down the courtyard,
with the thought gnawing at his heart that perhaps
after all these many years of waiting his plans might
yet be frustrated.
“There is a woman at the bottom of all this,” said
he to himself. “It is only woman's wiles that in this
brief space of time would effect so complete a change
in a young man's disposition. Besides, he would not
have so obstinately declined to listen to the proposal
I made him had not his affections been engaged else-
where. Who can she be? and by what means shall I
find her out?”
It would be absurd to question Norbert, and the
Duke was excessively unwilling to institute any regu-
lar inquiry into the matter. He passed the whole
night in gloomy indecision, but towards morning an
inspiration came to him which he looked upon as a
special interposition of Providence.
“ Bruno," he exclaimed with a mighty oath. “ The
dog will show me the place that his master frequents
and perhaps lead me to the very woman who has
bewitched him.”
This brilliant idea soothed him a great deal, and at
one o'clock he took his seat as usual at the head of
the table, and ordered food to be taken up to Norbert,
but that none of the measures for his safe custody
were to be relaxed.
When he thought the moment was a favorable one,
he whistled to Bruno, and, though the dog rarely fol-
lowed him, yet in the absence of his master, he conde-
scended to accompany the Duke down the avenue to
the front gates. Three roads branched off from here,


AN UNLUCKY BLOW
69
but the dog did not hesitate for a moment, and took
the one to the left, like an animal who knew his desti-
nation perfectly well. Bruno went ahead for nearly
half an hour, until he reached the exact spot where
Diana had met with her accident. He made a cast
round, but finding nothing, sat down, clearly saying,
“Let us wait.”
“This, then," muttered the Duke, “is the place
where the lovers have been in the habit of meeting
each other.”
The place was a very lonely one, and, standing on
rising ground, commanded a view of the country for
a long way round.
The Duke noticed this, and took up a position where
the trunk of a giant oak almost concealed him from
observation. He was delighted at his sagacity, and
was almost in a good humor; for now that he had
reflected, the danger did not seem by any means so
great, for to whom could Norbert have lost his heart?
To some little peasant girl, perhaps, who, thinking
that the lad was an easy dupe, had tried to induce
him to marry her. As these thoughts passed through
the Duke's brain, Bruno gave a joyous bark.
"Here she is,” muttered he, as he emerged from
his hiding place, and at that moment Diana de Laure-
bourg made her appearance; but as soon as she saw
the Duke she uttered a faint cry of alarm. She was
inclined to turn and fly, but her strength failed her,
and, extending her hands, she grasped the boughs of
a slender birch tree that grew close by, to prevent
herself from falling. The Duke was quite as much
astonished as the young lady. He had expected to
see a peasant girl, and here was the daughter of the
Marquis de Laurebourg. But anger soon succeeded


70
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
to surprise; for though he might have had nothing to
fear from the peasant, the daughter of the Marquis de
Laurebourg was an utterly different antagonist. He
could not rely upon aid from her family, as, for all
he knew, they might be aiding and abetting her.
“Well, my child,” began he, “ you do not seem very
glad to see me.”
“Your Grace."
“Yes, when you come out to meet the son, it is
annoying to meet the father; but do not blame poor
Norbert, for I assure you he is not in fault.”
Though Mademoiselle de Laurebourg had been star-
tled at first, she was possessed of too strong a will to
give in, and soon recovered her self-possession.
She never thought to screen herself by a denial
of her reasons for being on the spot, for such a course
she would have looked on as an act of treacherous
cowardice.
“You are quite right,” answered she. “I came
here to meet your son, and therefore you will pardon
me if I take my leave of you.”
With a deep courtesy she was about to move
away, when the Duke laid a restraining grip upon
her arm.
“Permit me, my child,” said he, endeavoring to put
on a kind and paternal tone,—“let me say a few
words to you. Do you know why Norbert did not
come to meet you?”
“He has doubtless some very good reason."
“My son is locked up in a room, and my servants
have my orders to prevent his making his escape
by force, if necessary."
“Poor fellow! He deserves the deepest commisera-
tion.”


AN UNLUCKY BLOW
71
The Duke was much surprised at this piece of im-
pertinence, as he considered it.
"I will tell you," returned he in tones of rising
anger, “how it comes that I treat my son, the heir
to my rank and fortune, in this manner.”
He looked savagely angry as he spoke, but Diana
answered negligently, “Pray go on; you quite in-
terest me."
“Well then, listen to me. I have chosen a wife
for Norbert; she is as young as you are-beautiful,
clever, and wealthy."
“And of noble birth, of course.”
The sarcasm conveyed in this reply roused the
Duke to fury.
“Fifteen hundred thousand francs as a marriage
portion will outweigh a coat of arms, even though it
should be a tower argent on a field azure.” The
Duke paused as he made this allusion to the Laure-
bourg arms, and then continued, “In addition to
this, she has great expectations; and yet my son is
mad enough to refuse the hand of this wealthy
heiress."
"If you think that this marriage will cause your
son's happiness, you are quite right in acting as you
have done.”
“Happiness! What has that to do with the matter,
as long as it adds to the aggrandizement of our house
and name? I have made up my mind that Norbert
shall marry this girl; I have sworn it, and I never
break my oath. I told him this myself.”
Diana suffered acutely, but her pride supported her,
whilst her confidence in Norbert was so great that
she had the boldness to inquire, “And what did he
say to that?”


72 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
"Norbert will become a dutiful son once more
when he is removed from the malignant influence
which has been so injurious to him," returned the
Duke fiercely.
“Indeed."
“He will obey me, when I show him that though
he may not value his name and position, there are
others who do so; and that many a woman would
fight a brave battle for the honor of being the Duch-
ess of Champdoce. Young lady, my son is a mere
boy; but I have known the world, and when I prove
to the poor foul that it was only grasping ambition
which assumed the garb of love, he will renounce his
folly and resume his allegiance to me. I will tell
him what I think of the poverty-stricken adventur-
esses of high birth, whose only weapons are their
youth and beauty, and with which they think that
they can win a wealthy husband in the battle of life.”
“ Continue, sir," broke in Diana haughtily. “In-
sult a defenceless girl with her poverty! It is a
noble act, and one worthy of a high-born gentleman
like yourself!"
“I believed," said the Duke, “that I was address-
ing the woman whose advice had led my son to break
into open rebellion against my authority. Am I right
or wrong? You can prove me to be mistaken by
urging upon Norbert the necessity for submission.”
She made no reply, but bent her head upon her
bosom.
“You see," continued the Duke," that I am cor-
rect, and that if you continue to act as you have done,
I shall be justified in retaliating in any manner that
I may deem fit. You have now been warned. Carry
on this intrigue at your peril.”


AN UNLUCKY BLOW
73
He placed such an insulting emphasis upon the
word “intrigue” that Diana's anger rose to boiling
point. At that instant, for the sake of vengeance,
she would have risked her honor, her ambition, her
very life itself.
Forgetting all prudence, she cast aside her mask of
affected indifference, and, with her eyes flashing
angry gleams of fire, and her cheeks burning, she
said, -
“Listen to me. I, too, have sworn an oath, and it
is that Norbert shall be my husband; and I tell you!
that he shall be so! Shut him up in prison, subject
him to every indignity at the hands of your menials,
but you will never break his spirit, or make him go
back from his plighted word. If I bid him, he will
resist your will even unto the bitter end. He and I
will never yield. Believe me when I tell you, that
before you attack a young girl's honor, you had bet-
ter pause; for one day she will be a member of your
family. Farewell.”
Before the Duke could recover his senses, Diana
was far down the path on her way homewards; and
then he burst into a wild storm of menaces, oaths, and
insults. He fancied that he was alone, but he was
mistaken; for the whole of that strange scene had
a hidden witness, and that witness was Daumon. He
had heard of the treatment of the young Marquis from
one of the servants at the Château, and his first ·
thought had been to acquaint Diana with it. Un-
fortunately he saw no means of doing this. He
dared not go to Laurebourg, and he would have died
sooner than put pen to paper. He was in a position
of the deepest embarrassment when the idea struck
him of going to the lovers' trysting place. The little


AN UNLUCKY BLOW
75
The Duke breathed more freely. Norbert was still
in security, and therefore it could not have been the
person who had been listening.
“But,” added the lad, “the young master is half
frantic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he declared that he would not remain in
his room an instant longer; so old Jean called for
help. He is awfully strong, and it took six of us
to hold him. He said that if we would let him go,
he would return in two hours, and that his honor
and life were involved.”
The Duke listened with a sarcastic smile. He
cared nothing about the frantic struggles of his son,
for his heart had grown cold and hard from the pres-
ence of the fixed idea which had actuated his conduct
for so many years, and it was with the solemn face
of a man who was fulfilling a sacred duty that he
ascended to the room in which his son was impris-
oned. Jean threw open the door, and the Duke paused
for a moment on the threshold. The furniture had
been overturned, some of it broken, and there were
evident signs of a furious struggle having taken place.
A powerful laborer stood near the window, and
Norbert was lying on the bed, with his face turned
to the wall.
“Leave us,” said the Duke, and the man withdrew
at once.
“Get up, Norbert,” he added; “I wish to speak to
you.”
His son obeyed him. Any one but the Duke would
have been alarmed by the expression of the young
man's face.
“What is the meaning of all this ?” asked the old


76
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
nobleman in his most severe voice. “Are not my
orders sufficient to insure obedience? I hear that
absolute force has had to be used towards you during
my absence. Tell me, my son, what plans you have
devised during these hours of solitude, and what hopes
you still venture to cherish.”
“I intend to be free, and I will be so."
The Duke affected not to hear the reply, uttered
as it was in a tone of decision.
“ It was very easy for me to discover, from your
obstinacy, that some woman had endeavored to entrap
you, and by her insidious counsels inducing you to
disobey your best friend.”
He paused, but there was no reply.
“ This woman—this dangerous woman—I have been
in search of, and as you can conceive, I easily found
her. I went to the Forest of Bevron, and there I
need not tell you I found Mademoiselle de Laure-
bourg.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“I did so, certainly. I told her my opinion of those
manæuvring women who fascinate the dupes they in-
“Father!”
“Can it be possible that you, simple boy even as you
are, could have been deceived by the pretended love
of this wily young woman? It is not you, Marquis,
that she loves, but our name and fortune; but I know
if she does not that the law will imprison women who
contrive to entrap young men who are under age.”
Norbert turned deadly pale.
“Did you really say that to her ?” asked he, in a
low, hoarse voice, utterly unlike his own. “You dare
to insult the woman I love, when you knew that I was


THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE
77
far away and unable to protect her! Take care, or
I shall forget that you are my father.”
“He actually threatens me," said the Duke, “my
son threatens me; ” and, raising the heavy stick he
held in his hand, he struck Norbert a violent blow.
By a fortunate movement the unhappy boy drew back,
and so avoided the full force of the stroke, but the
end of the stick struck him across the temple, inflicting
a long though not a serious wound. In his blind rage
Norbert was about to throw himself upon his father,
when his eyes caught sight of the open door. Liberty
and safety lay before him, and, with a bound, he was
on the stairs, and before the Duke could shout for aid
from the window, his son was tearing across the park
with all the appearance and gesture of a madman.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE.
In order to avoid being seen by Mademoiselle de
Laurebourg, Daumon had to take a much longer route
to regain his home than the one that Diana had fol-
lowed. This, however, he could not help. As soon as
he arrived at his home he ran hastily upstairs and took
from a cleverly concealed hiding-place in the wains-
coting of his bedroom a small bottle of dark green
glass, which he hastily slipped into his pocket. When
he had once more descended to his office, he again took
it out and examined it carefully to see that it had in
nc way been tampered with; then, with a hard, cruel
smile, he placed it upon his desk among his ledgers


78
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
and account books. Diana de Laurebourg might pay
him a visit as soon as she liked, for he was quite pre-
pared for her, for he had slipped on his dressing-gown
and placed his velvet skull cap upon his head, as if
he had not quitted the house that day.
“Why on earth does she not come ?” muttered he.
He began to be uneasy. He went to the window
and glanced eagerly down the road; then he drew out
his watch and examined the face of it, when all at
once his ears detected a gentle tapping at the door of
the office.
“Come in,” said he.
The door opened, and Diana entered slowly, without
uttering a word, and took no notice of the servile obse-
quiousness of the Counsellor; indeed, she hardly
seemed to notice his presence, and with a deep sigh
she threw herself into a chair.
In his inmost heart Daumon was filled with the ut-
most delight; he now understood why Diana had
taken so long in reaching his house; it was because her
interview with the Duke had almost overcome her.
She soon, however, recovered her energy, and shook
off the languor that seemed to cling to her limbs, and,
turning towards her host, said abruptly,-
“ Counsello:, I have come to you for advice, which
I sorely need. About an hour ago_-"
With a gesture of sympathy Daumon interrupted
her,-
“Alas !” said he;“ spare me the recital, I know all.”
“You know—-"
“Yes, I know that M. Norbert is a prisoner at the
Château. Yes, mademoiselle, I know this, and I know,
too, that you have just met the Duke de Champdoce in
the Forest of Bevron. I know, moreover, all that you


THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE
79
said to the old nobleman, for I have heard every word
from a person who has just left.”
In spite of her strong nerves, Diana was unable to
restrain a movement of dismay and terror.
“But who told you of this?” murmured she.
“ A man who was out cutting wood. Ah! my dear
young lady, the forest is not a safe place to tell secrets
in, for you never know whether watchful eyes and
listening ears are not concealed behind every tree.
This man, and I am afraid some of his companions,
heard every word that was spoken, and as soon as
you left the Duke the man scampered off to tell the
story. I made him promise not to say a word, but he
is a married man and is sure to tell it to his wife.
Then there are his companions; dear me! it is most
annoying.”
“Then all is lost, and I am ruined,” murmured she.
But her despair did not last long, for she was by
no means the woman to throw down her arms and
sue for mercy. She grasped the arm of the Coun-
sellor.
“The end has not come yet, surely? Speak! what
is to be done? You must have some plan. I am
ready for anything, now that I have nothing to lose.
No one shall ever say that that cowardly villain, the
Duke de Champdoce, insulted me with impunity. Tell
me, will you help me?”
"In the name of heaven!” cried he,“ do not speak
so loud. You do not know the adversary that you
have to contend with.”
“ Are you afraid of him?"
“Yes, I do fear him; and what is more, I fear him
very much. He is a determined man, and will gain
his object at any cost or risk. Do you know that he


80
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
did his best to crush me because I summoned him to
court on behalf of one of my clients ? So that now,
when any one comes to me and wishes to proceed
against the Duke, I am glad to decline to take up the
matter."
“And so," returned the young girl in a tone of cold
contempt,“ after leading us to this compromising posi-
tion, you are ready to abandon us at the most critical
moment?”
“ Can you think such a thing, mademoiselle?”
“You can act as you please, Counsellor; Norbert is
still left to me; he will protect me.”
Daumon shook his head with an air of deep sorrow.
“ How can we be sure that at this very moment
the Marquis has not given in to all his father's
wishes?”
"No," exclaimed the girl; “such a supposition is an
insult to Norbert. He would sooner die than give in.
He may be timid, but he is not a coward; the thoughts
of me will give him the power to resist his father's
tyranny.”
Daumon allowed himself to fall into his great arm-
chair as though overcome by the excitement of this
interview.
“We can talk coolly enough here and with no one
to threaten us; but the Marquis, on the other hand, is
exposed to all his father's violence and ill treatment,
moral as well as physical, without any defence or aid
from a soul in the world, and in such times as these
the strongest will may give way.”
“Yes, I see it all; Norbert may give in, he may
marry another woman, and I shall be left alone, with
my reputation gone, and the scorn and scoff of all
the neighborhood.”


THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE . 85
Norbert gently disengaged himself. “It is a mere
nothing," said he, “and can be looked after later on.
Fortunately I did not receive the whole weight of the
blow, which would otherwise have brought me sense-
less to the ground, and perhaps I should have been
slain by my father's hand.”
“ By the Duke? and for what reason did he strike
you?”
“ Diana, he had grossly insulted you, and he dared
to tell me of it. Had he forgotten that the blood of
the race of Champdoce ran in my veins as well as in
his?”
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg burst into a passion
of tears.
"I,” sobbed she, “I have brought all this upon
you.”
“You? Why, it is to you that he owes his life.
He dared to strike me as if I had been a lackey, but
the thoughts of you stayed my hand. I turned and
fied, and never again will I enter that accursed house.
I renounce the Duke de Champdoce, he is no longer
my father, and I will never look upon his face again.
Would that I could forget that such a man existed;
but, no, I would rather that I remembered him for
the sake of revenge.”
Again the heart of Daumon overflowed with joy.
All his deeply malignant spirit thrilled pleasantly as
he heard these words.
“ Marquis,” said he, “perhaps you will now believe
with me that in all misfortunes there is an element of
luck, for your father has committed an act of impru-
dence which will yet cost him dear. It is very strange
that so astute a man as the Duke de Champdoce should
have allowed his passion to carry him away."


86
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“What do you mean?”
“ Simply that you can be freed from the tyranny
of your father whenever you like now. We now have
all that is necessary for lodging a formal plaint in
court. We have sequestration of the person, threats
and bodily violence by the aid of third parties, and
words and blows which have endangered life; our case
is entirely complete. A surgeon will examine your
wound, and give a written deposition. We can pro-
duce plenty of evidence, and the wound on the head
will tell its own story. As a commencement we will
petition that we may not be ordered back to our
father's custody, and it will further be set forth that
our reason for this is that a father has assaulted a
son with undue and unnecessary violence. We shall
be sure to gain the day, and ”
"Enough,” broke in Norbert; “will the decision
give me the right to marry whom I please without my
father's consent?”
Daumon hesitated. Under the circumstances, it
seemed to him very likely that the court would grant
Norbert the liberty he desired; he, however, thought
it advisable not to say so, and answered boldly, “ No,
Marquis, it will not do so."
“Well, then, the Champdoce family have never
exposed their differences to the public, nor will I begin
to do so,” said Norbert decisively.
The Counsellor seemed surprised at this determi-
nation.
“If, Marquis,” he began, “I might venture to
advise you--"
"No advice is necessary, my mind is entirely made
up, but I need some help, and in twenty-four hours I


THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE 87
require a large sum of money—twenty thousand
francs.”
“ You can have them, Marquis, but I warn you that
you will have to pay heavily for the accommodation.”
“That I care nothing for.”
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg was about to speak,
but with a gesture of his hand Norbert arrested her.
“Do you not comprehend me, Diana ?” said he;
“we must fly, and that at once. We can find some
safe retreat where we can live happily, where no one
will harm us.”
“But this is mere madness!” cried Diana.
“You will be pursued,” remarked the Counsellor ;
“and most likely overtaken.”
“ Can you not trust your life to me?” asked Nor-
bert reproachfully. “I swear that I will devote every-
thing to you, life, thought and will. On my knees I
entreat you to fly with me.”
“I cannot,” murmured she; “ it is impossible.”
“ Then you do not love me,” said he in desponding
accents. “ I have been a thrice-besotted fool to believe
that your heart was mine, for you can never have
loved me."
“Hear him, merciful powers! he says that I, who
am all his, do not love him.”
“ Then why cast aside our only chance of safety ?”
“Norbert, dearest Norbert!”
“I understand you too well; you are alarmed at the
idea of the world's censure, and "
He paused, checked by the gleam of reproach that
shone in Diana's eyes.
"Must it be so ?” said she; “must I condescend te
justify myself? You talk to me of the world's cen-


88
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
sure? Have I not already defied it, and has it not
sat in judgment upon me? And what have I done,
after all? Every act and word that has passed between
us I can repeat to my mother without a blush rising
to my cheek; but would any one credit my words? No,
not a living soul. Most likely the world has come to
a decision. My reputation is gone, is utterly lost, and
yet I am spotless as the driven snow.”
Norbert was half-mad with anger.
“Who will dare to treat you with anything save
with the most profound respect?” said he.
“ Alas! my dear Norbert,” replied she, "to-morrow
the scandal will be even greater. While your father
was talking to me with such brutal violence and
contempt, he was overheard by a woodcutter and per-
haps by some of his companions.”
“It cannot be.”
"No, it is quite true," returned Daumon. “I had
it from the man myself.”
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg shot one glance at
the Counsellor; it was only a glance, but he compre-
hended at once that she wished to be left alone with
her lover.
“Pardon me," said he, “but I think I have a visi-
tor, and I must hinder any one from coming in
here."
He left the room as he spoke, closing the door
noisily behind him.
"And so," resumed Norbert when alone, “it
seems that the Duke de Champdoce did not even take
the ordinary precaution of assuring himself that you
were in privacy before he spoke as he did, and was
so carried away by his fury that he never thought that
in casting dishonor upon you, he was heaping infamy


THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE
89
on marry the he de Puyman learned the
on me. Does he think by these means to compel me
to marry the heiress whom he has chosen for me,
the Mademoiselle de Puymandour?”
. For the first time Diana learned the name of ner
rival.
“Ah!” moaned she between her sobs, “ so it is
Mademoiselle de Puymandour that he wants you to
marry?"
“Yes, the same, or rather her enormous wealth;
but may my hand wither before it clasps hers. Do
you hear me, Diana ?”
She gave a sad smile and murmured, “ Poor Nor-
bert!”
The heart of the young man sank; so melancholy
was the tone of her voice.
"You are very cruel,” said he. “What have I done
to deserve this want of confidence ?"
Diana made no reply, and Norbert, believing that
he understood the reason why she refused to fly with
him, said, “Is it because you have no faith in me,
that you will not accompany me in my flight?"
“No; I have perfect faith in you."
“What is it, then? Do I not offer you fortune and
happiness? Tell me what it is then.”
She drew herself up, and said proudly, “Up to
this time, my conscience has enabled me to hold my
own against all the scandalous gossip that has been
flying about, but now it says, " Halt, Diana de Laure-
bourg! you have gone far enough.' My burden is
heavy, my heart is breaking, but I must draw back
now. No, Norbert; I cannot fly with you.”
She paused for a moment, as though unable to
proceed, and then went on with more firmness, “Were
I alone and solitary in the world, I might act dif-


THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE
91
A sob burst from the young girl's breast, and her
strength seemed to desert her limbs.
“I,” answered she, in the calm, resigned voice of
a Christian virgin about to be cast to the lions that
roared in the arena, “ I have my destiny. To-day is the
last time that we shall ever meet. I shall return to
my home, where everything will shortly be known. I
shall find my father angry and menacing. He will
place me in a carriage, and the next day I shall find
myself within the walls of the hated convent.”
“But that life would be one long, slow agony to
you. You have told me this before.”
“Yes," answered she, “it would be an agony, but
it would also be an expiation; and when the burden
grows too heavy, I have this.”
And as she spoke, she drew the little bottle from
its hiding-place in her bosom, and Norbert too
well understood her meaning. The young man en-
deavored to take it from her, but she resisted. This
contest seemed to exhaust her little strength, her
beautiful eyes closed, and she sank senseless into Nor-
bert's arms. In an agony of despair, the young man
asked himself if she was dying; and yet there was
sufficient life in her to enable her to whisper, soft and
low, these words, “My only friend_let me have it
back, dear Norbert.” And then, with perfect clearness,
she repeated all the deadly properties of the drug, and
the directions for its use that the Counsellor had
given to her.
On hearing the woman whom he loved with such
intense passion confess that she would sooner die than
live apart from him, Norbert's brain reeled.
“Diana, my own Diana !” repeated he, as he hung
over her.


92
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
But she went on, as though speaking through the
promptings of delirium.
“The very day after such a fair prospect! Ah, Duke
de Champdoce ! you are a hard and pitiless man. You
have robbed me of all I held dear in the world, black-
ened my reputation, and tarnished my honor, and now
you want my life.”
Norbert uttered such a cry of anger, that even Dau-
mon in the passage was startled by it. He placed
Diana tenderly in the Counsellor's arm-chair, saying,-
“No, you shall not kill yourself, nor shall you
leave me.”
She smiled faintly, and held out her arms to him.
Her magic spells were deftly woven.
“No,” cried he; “the poison which you had in..
tended to use on yourself shall become my weapon of
vengeance, and the instrument of punishment of the
one who has wronged you.”
And with the gait of a man walking in his sleep, he
left the Counsellor's office.
Hardly had the young man's footsteps died away,
than Daumon entered the room. He had not lost a
word or action in the foregoing scene, and he was
terribly agitated; and he could scarcely believe his
eyes when he saw Diana, whom he had supposed to
be lying half-insensible in the arm-chair, standing at
the window, gazing after Norbert, as he walked along
the road leading from the Counsellor's cottage.
“Ah! what a woman!” muttered he. “Gracious
powers, what a wonderful woman!”
When Diana had lost sight of her lover, she turned
round to Daumon. Her face was pale, and her eye-
lids swollen, but her eyes flashed with the conviction
of success.


THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE 93
“ To-morrow, Counsellor,” said she, “to-morrow I
shall be the Duchess de Champdoce."
Daumon was so overwhelmed that, accustomed as
he was to startling events and underhand trickery, he
could find no words to express his feelings.
“That is to say,” added Diana thoughtfully, “ if all
goes as it should to-night.”
Daumon felt a cold shiver creep over him, but sum-
moning up all his self-possession, he said, “I do not
understand you. What is this that you hope will be
accomplished to-night?”.
She turned so contemptuous and sarcastic a look on
him, that the words died away in his mouth, and he
at once saw his mistake in thinking that he could sport
with the girl's feelings as a cat plays with a mouse;
for it was she who was playing with him, and she, a
simple girl, had made this wily man of the world her
dupe.
“Success is, of course, a certainty,” answered she
coldly; “but Norbert is impetuous, and impetuous
people are often awkward. But I must return home at
once. Ah, me!” she added, as her self-control gave
way for a moment, “ will this cruel night never pass
away, and give way to the gentle light of dawn?
Farewell, Counsellor. When we meet again, all mat-
ters will be settled, one way or other.”
The Parthian dart which Mademoiselle de Laure-
bourg had cast behind her went true to the mark; the
allusion to Norbert's impetuosity and awkwardness
rendered the Counsellor very unhappy. He sat down
in his arm-chair, and, resting his head on his hands,
and his elbows on his desk, he strove to review the
position thoroughly. Perhaps by now all might be


THE LITTLE GLASS BOTTLE 95
with his own handkerchief. He replaced the bottle
in its accustomed place, and seating himself by the
fire, awaited the course of events.
At this moment the Duke de Champdoce was coming
up the avenue at a rapid pace. For the first time,
perhaps, in his life, this man perceived that one of
his last acts had been insensate and foolish in the
extreme. All the possibilities of the law to which
Daumon had alluded struck the Duke with over-
whelming force, and he at once saw that his violent
conduct had given ample grounds upon which to base
a plaint, with results which he greatly feared. If the
court entertained the matter, his son would most likely
be removed from his control. He knew that such an
idea would never cross Norbert's brain, but there were
plenty of persons to suggest it to him. The danger of
his position occurred to him, and at the same time he
felt that he must frame his future conduct with extreme
prudence. He had not given up his views regarding
his son's marriage with Mademoiselle de Puyman-
dour. No; he would sooner have resigned life itself,
but he felt that he must renounce violence, and gain
his ends by diplomacy. The first thing to be done
was to get Norbert to return home, and the father
greatly doubted whether the son would do so. While
thinking over these things, with a settled gloom upon
his face, one of the servants came running up to him
with the news of Norbert's return.
"I hold him at last,” muttered he, and hastened
on to the Château.
When the Duke entered the dining-room, Norbert
did not rise from his seat, and the Duke was dis-
agreeably impressed by this breach of the rules of
domestic etiquette.


96
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
"On my word,” thought he, “it would appear that
the young booby thinks that he owes me no kind of
duty whatever.”
He did not, however, allow his anger to be manifest
in his features; besides, the sight of the blood, with
which his son's face was still smeared, caused him to
feel excessively uncomfortable.
“Norbert, my son,” said he, “are you suffering?
Why have you not had that cut attended to?"
The young man made no reply, and the Duke con-
tinued,
“Why have you not washed the blood away? Is it
left there as a reproach to me? There is no need for
that, I assure you; for deeply do I deplore my vio-
lence.”
Norbert still made no answer, and the Duke became
more and more embarrassed. To give himself time
for reflection, more than because he was thirsty, he
took a glass, and filled it from his own special bottle.
Norbert trembled from head to foot as he saw
this act.
“Come, my son,” continued the Duke, “just try
if you cannot find some palliation for what your old
father has done. I am ready to ask your forgiveness,
and to apologize, for a man of honor is never ashamed
to acknowledge when he has been in the wrong.”
He raised his glass, and raised it up to the light
half mechanically. Norbert held his breath; the whole
world seemed turning round.
" It is hard, very hard," continued the Duke," for
a father thus to humiliate himself in vain before his
is act.
son."
It was useless for Norbert to turn away his head;
he saw the Duke place the glass to his lips. He was


THE HONOR OF THE NAME 97
about to drink, but the young man could endure it no
longer, and with a bound he sprang forward, snatched
the glass from his father's hand, and hurled it from
the window, shouting in a voice utterly urlike his
own,-
"Do not drink.”
The Duke read the whɔle hideous truth in the face
and manner of his son. His features quiverer, his
face grew purple, and his eyes filled with bloed. He
strove to speak, but only an inarticulate rattle could
be heard; he then clasped his hands convulsively,
swayed backwards and forwards, and then fell help-
lessly backwards, striking his head against an oaken
sideboard that stood near. Norbert tore open the
door.
"Quick, help!” cried he. “I have killed my
father."
CHAPTER IX.
THE HONOR OF THE NAME.
The account that the Duke de Champdoce had
given of M. de Puymandour's mad longing for rank
and title was true, and afforded a melancholy instance
of that peculiar kind of foolish vanity. He was a
much happier man in his younger days, when he was
known simply as Palouzet, which was his father's
name, whose only wish for distinction was to be looked
upon as an honest man. In those days he was much
looked up to and respected, as a man who had pos-
sessed brains enough to amass a very large fortune
by strictly honest means. All this vanished, however,


98
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
when the unhappy idea occurred to him to affix the
title of Count to the name of an estate that he had
recently purchased.
From that moment, all his tribulations in life may
have been said to have commenced. The nobility
laughed at his assumption of hereditary rank, while
the middle classes frowned at his pretensions to be
superior to them, so that he passed the existence of
a shuttlecock, continually suspended in the air, and
struck at and dismissed from either side.
It may, therefore, be easily imagined how exces-
sively anxious he was to bring about the marriage
between his daughter Marie and the son of that
mighty nobleman, the Duke de Champdoce. He had
offered to sacrifice one-third of his fortune for the
honor of forming this connection, and would have
given up the whole of it, could he but have seen a
child in whose veins ran the united blood of Palouzet
and the Champdoce seated upon his knee. A mar-
riage of this kind would have given him a real posi-
tion; for to have a Champdoce for a son-in-law
would compel all scoffers to bridle their tongues.
The day after he had received a favorable reply
from the Duke, M. de Puymandour thought that it
was time to inform his daughter of his intentions.
He never thought that she would make any opposi-
tion, and, of course, supposed that she would be as de-
lighted as he was at the honor that awaited her. He
was seated in a magnificently furnished room which
he called his library when he arrived at this conclu-
sion, and ringing the bell, ordered the servant to in-
quire of mademoiselle's maid if her mistress could
grant him an interview. He gave this curious mes-
sage, which did not appear to surprise the servant



CA
33
X2
USER
AU
36
R
CA
SNS
NA
.
ST
UNNER
NAS
HE CLASPED HIS HANDS CONVULSIVELY, AND THEN FELL HELPLESSLY
BACKWARDS, STRIKING HIS HEAD AGAINST AN OAKEN SIDEBOARD





THE HONOR OF THE NAME
99
in the least, with an air of the utmost importance.
The communication between the father and daughter
was always carried on upon this basis; and scoffers
wickedly asserted that M. de Puymandour had mod-
elled it upon a book of etiquette, for the guidance
of her household, written by a venerable arch-
duchess.
Shortly after the man had departed on his er-
rand, a little tap came to the door.
“Come in,” exclaimed M. de Puymandour.
And Mademoiselle Marie ran in and gave her
father a kiss upon each cheek. He frowned slightly,
and extricated himself from her embrace.
“I thought it better to come to you, my dear
father,” said she, “than to give you the trouble of
coming all the way to me.”
“ You always forget that there are certain forms
and ceremonies necessary for a young lady of your
position.”
Marie gave a little gentle smile, for she was no
stranger to her father's absurd whims; but she never
thwarted them, for she was very fond of him. She
was a very charming young lady, and in the de-
scription that the Duke had given of her to his son,
he had not flattered her at all. Though she differed
greatly in appearance from Mademoiselle de Laure-
bourg, Marie's beauty was perfect in a style of its
own. She was tall and well proportioned, and had
all that easy grace of movement, characteristic of
women of Southern parentage. Her large soft dark
eyes offered a vivid contrast to her creamy complex-
ion; her hair, in utter disregard of the fashionable
mode of dressing, was loosely knotted at the back
of her head. Her nature was soft and affectionate,


100 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
capable of the deepest devotion, while she had the
most equable temper that can be imagined.
“ Come, my dear papa," said she; “ do not scold
me any more. You know that the Marchioness of
Arlanges has promised to teach me how to behave
myself according to all the rules of fashionable soci-
ety next winter, and I declare to you that I will
so practise them up in secret, that you will be aston-
ished when you behold them.”
“How woman-like!” muttered her father. “She
only scoffs at matters of the most vital importance.”
He rose from his seat, and, placing his back to
the fireplace, took up an imposing position, one hand
buried in his waistcoat, and the other ready to ges-
ticulate as occasion required.
“ Oblige me with your deepest attention,” com-
menced he. “You were eighteen years of age last
month, and I have an important piece of intelligence
to convey to you. I have had an offer of marriage
for you.”
Marie looked down, and endeavored to hide her
confusion at these tidings.
“Before coming to a conclusion upon a matter of
such importance,” continued he, “it was, of course,
necessary for me to go into the question most thor-
oughly. I spared no means of obtaining information,
and I am quite certain that the proposed connection
would be conducive to your future happiness. The
suitor for your hand is but little older than your-
self; he is very handsome, very wealthy, and is a
Marquis by hereditary right.”
“Has he spoken to you then?” inquired Marie in
tones of extreme agitation.
“ He! Whom do you mean by he? ” asked M. de


THE HONOR OF THE NAME IOI
101
Puymandour; and as his daughter did not reply, he
repeated his question.
" Who? Why, George de Croisenois.”
“ Pray, what have you to do with Croisenois ?
Who is he, pray? Not that dandy with a mustache,
that I have seen hanging about you this winter?”
“Yes," faltered Marie; "that is he.”
" And why should you presume that he had asked
me for your hand? Did he tell you that he was going
to do so ?”
“Father, I declare "
“What, the daughter of a Puymandour has lis-
tened to a declaration of love unknown to her father?
Ten thousand furies! Has he written to you?
Where are those letters?"
“My dear father "
“Silence; have you those letters ? Let me see
them. Come, no delay; I will have those bits of
paper, if I turn the whole house upside down.”
With a sigh Marie gave the much prized missives to
her father; there were four only, fastened together
with a morsel of blue ribbon.
He took one out at random, and read it aloud,
with a running fire of oaths and invectives as a com-
mentary upon its contents.
“ MADEMOISELLE,—
“ Though there is nothing upon earth that I
dread so much as your anger, I dare, in spite of your
commands to the contrary, to write to you once again.
I have learned that you are about to quit Paris for sev-
eral months. I am twenty-four years of age. I have
neither father nor mother, and am entirely my own
master. I belong to an ancient and honorable family.
My fortune is a large one, and my love for you is of


102 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
the most honorable and devoted kind. My uncle, M.
de Saumeuse, knows your father well; and will convey
my proposals to him upon his return from Italy, in
about two or three weeks' time. Once more intreat-
ing you to forgive me,
“I remain,
“ Yours respectfully,
“ GEORGE DE CROISENOIS.”
“ Very pretty indeed,” said M. de Puymandour,
as he replaced the letter in its envelope. “This is
sufficient, and I need not read the others; but pray,
what answer did you give?”
“That I must refer him to you, my dear father."
"Indeed, on my word, you do me too much honor;
and did you really think that I would listen to such
proposals? Perhaps you love him?”
She turned her lovely face towards her father,
with the great tears rolling down her cheeks for her
sole reply.
This mute confession, for as such he regarded it,
put the finishing touch to M. de Puymandour's ex-
asperation.
“You absolutely love him, and have the impudence
to tell me so ?”
Marie glanced at her father, and answered, -
“ The Marquis de Croisenois is of good family.”
“ Pooh! you know nothing about it. Why, the
first Croisenois was one of Richelieu's minions, and
Louis XIII. conferred the title for some shady piece
of business which he carried out for him. Has this
fine Marquis any means of livelihood ?”
“Certainly; about sixty thousand francs a year.”
"Humbug! What did he mean by addressing you
secretly? Only to compromise your name, and so


THE HONOR OF THE NAME 103
to secure your fortune, and perhaps to break off your
marriage with another.”
“ But why suppose this ?”
“I suppose nothing; I am merely going upon
facts. What does a man of honor do when he falls
in love?”
“My dear. father ”
“He goes to his solicitor, acquaints him with his
intentions, and explains what his means are; the solic-
itor goes to the family solicitor of the young lady,
and when these men of the law have found out that
all is satisfactory, then love is permitted to make
his appearance upon the scene. And now you may
as well attend to me. Forget De Croisenois as
soon as you can, for I have chosen a husband for
you, and, having pledged my word of honor, I will
abide by it. On Sunday the eligible suitor will be
introduced to you, and on Monday we will visit the
Bishop, asking him to be good enough to perform the
ceremony. On Tuesday you will show yourself in
public with him, in order to announce the betrothal.
Wednesday the marriage contract will be read. Thurs-
day a grand dinner-party. Friday an exhibition of
the marriage presents; Saturday a day of rest; Sun-
day the publication of the banns, and at the end of the
following week the marriage will take place.”
Mademoiselle Marie listened to her father's deter-
mination with intense horror.
“For pity's sake, my dear father, be serious,” cried
she.
M. de Puymandour paid no attention to her en-
treaty, but added, as an afterthought:
"Perhaps you would wish to know the name of the
gentleman I have selected as a husband for you. He


104
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
is the Marquis Norbert, the son and heir of the Duke
de Champdoce.”
Marie turned deadly pale.
“But I do not know him; I have never seen him,"
faltered she.
"I know him, and that is quite sufficient. I have
often told you that you should be a duchess, and I
mean to keep my word.”
Marie's affection for George de Croisenois was
much deeper than , she had told her father, much
deeper even than she had dared to confess to her-
self, and she resented this disposal of her with more
obstinacy than any one knowing her gentle nature
would have supposed her capable of; but M. de Puy-
mandour was not the man to give up for an instant
the object which he had sworn to attain. He never
gave his daughter an instant's peace, he argued, in-
sisted, and bullied until, after three days' contest,
Marie gave her assent with a flood of tears. The
word had scarcely passed her lips, before her father,
without even thanking her for her terrible sacrifice,
exclaimed in a voice of triumph:
"I must take these tidings to Champdoce without
a moment's delay.”
He started at once, and as he passed through the
doorway said:
“Good-by, my little duchess, good-by."
He was most desirous of seeing the Duke, for,
on taking leave of him, the old nobleman had said,
“ You shall hear from me to-morrow”; but no letter
had as yet reached him from Champdoce. This de-
lay, however, had suited M. de Puymandour's plans,
for it had enabled him to wring the consent from his
daughter; but now that this had been done, he began


THE HONOR OF THE NAME
105
to feel very anxious, and to fear that there might be
some unforeseen hitch in the affair.
When he reached Bevron, he saw Daumon talking
earnestly with Françoise, the daughter of the Widow
Rouleau. M. de Puymandour bowed graciously, and
stopped to talk with the man, for he was just now
seeking for popularity, as he was a candidate, and
the elections would shortly take place; and, besides,
he never failed to talk to persons who exercised any
degree of influence, and he knew that Daumon was
a most useful man in electioneering.
"Good morning, Counsellor," said he gayly.
“What is the news to-day?”.
Daumon bowed profoundly.
“ Bad news, Count,” answered he. “I hear that
the Duke de Champdoce is seriously indisposed."
“ The Duke ill-impossible!"
“This girl has just given me the information. Tell
us all about it, Françoise."
"I heard to-day at the Château that the doctors
had quite given him over."
" But what is the matter with him ? *
" I did not hear."
M. de Puymandour stood perfectly aghast.
“ It is always the way in this world,” Daumon
philosophically said. “In the midst af life we are
in death!”
* Good morning, Counsellor," said De Puymandour;
“I must try and find out something more about this.”
Breathless, and with his mind filled with anxiety,
he hurried on
All the servants and laborers on the Champdoce es-
tate were gathered together in a group, talking eagerly
to each other, and as soon as M. de Puymandour
mpossible i uously indispodar that


106
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
appeared, one of the servants, disengaging himself
from his fellows, came towards him. This was the
Duke's old, trustworthy servant.
“Well?” exclaimed M. de Puymandour.
“Oh, sir," cried the old man, “ this is too horrible;
my poor master will certainly die.”
“But I do not know what is the matter with him;
no one has told me anything, in fact."
" It was terribly sudden,” answered the man. “ It
was about this time the day before yesterday that the
Duke was alone with M. Norbert in the dining-room.
All at once we heard a great outcry. We ran in and
saw my poor master lying senseless on the ground, his
face purple and distorted.”
“He must have had a fit of apoplexy.”
“Not exactly; the doctor called it a rush of blood
to the brain; at least, I think that is what he said, and
he added that the reason he did not die on the spot
was because in falling he had cut open his head against
the oaken sideboard, and the wound bled profusely.
We carried him up to his bed; he showed no signs of
life, and now-
“Well, how is he now?”
“No one dare give an opinion; my poor master is
quite unconscious, and should he recover—and I do
not think for a moment that he will—the doctor says
his mind will have entirely gone."
“Horrible! too horrible ! and a man of such intel-
lectual power, too. I shall not ask you to let me
look at him, for I could do no good, and the sight
would upset me. But can I not see M. Norbert ?”
“Pray, do not attempt to do so, sir.”
“I was his father's intimate friend, and if the con-


THE HONOR OF THE NAME
107
dolences of such a one could assuage the affliction
under which "
“Impossible!” answered the man in a quick, eager
manner. “ M. Norbert was with his father at the
time of his seizure, and has given strict orders that
he is not to be disturbed on any account; but I must
go to him at once, for we are expecting the physicians
who are coming from Poitiers.”
“ Very well, then I will go now, but to-night I will
send up one of my people for news.”
With these words, M. de Puymandour walked
slowly away, absorbed in thought. The manner and
expression of the servant had struck him as ex-
tremely strange. He noted the fact that Norbert was
alone with his father at the time of the seizure, and,
recalling to mind the opposition he had met with from
his daughter, he began to imagine that the Duke had
found his son rebellious, and that the apoplectic fit
had been brought on by a sudden access of passion.
Interest and ambition working together brought him
singularly near the truth.
“If the Duke dies, or becomes a maniac,” thought
he to himself, “the end as regards us will be the
same, for Norbert will break off the match to a cer-
tainty.” 1
He felt that such a proceeding would cause him
to be more jeered at and ridiculed than ever, and that
the only path of escape left open to him was to marry
his daughter to the Marquis de Croisenois, which
was a most desirable alliance, in spite of all he had
said against it. A voice close to his ear aroused
him from his reflections: it was that of Daumon, who
had come up unperceived.


108
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“Was the girl's information correct, Count?" asked
he. “How are the Duke and M. Norbert, for of
course you have seen them both?”.
“M. Norbert is too much agitated by the sad
event to see any one.”
“Of course that was to be looked for," returned
the wily Counsellor; “ for the seizure was terribly
sudden."
M. de Puymandour was too much occupied with
his own thoughts to spare much pity for Norbert.
He would have given a great deal to have known
what the young man was doing, and especially what
he was thinking of at the present moment.
The poor lad was standing by the bedside of his
dying father, watching eagerly for some indication,
however slight, of returning life or reason. The
hours of horror and self-reproach had entirely
changed his feelings and ideas; for it was only at the
instant when he saw his father raise the poisoned
wine to his lips that he saw his crime in all its hideous
enormity. His soul rose up in rebellion against his
crime, and the words, “ Parricide! murderer!”
seemed to ring in his ears like a trumpet call. When
his father fell to the ground, his instinct made him
shout for aid; but an instant afterwards terror took
possession of him, and, rushing from the house, he
sought the open country, as though striving to escape
from himself.
Jean, the old servant, who had noticed Norbert's
strange look, was seized with a terrible fear. Trusted
as he was by both the Duke and his son, he had many
means of knowing all that was going on in the house-
hold, and was no stranger to the differences that had
arisen recently between father and son. He knew


THE HONOR OF THE NAME 109
how violent the tempers of both were, and he also
knew that some woman was urging on Norbert to a
course of open rebellion. He had seen the cruel blow
dealt by the Duke, and had wondered greatly when
he saw Norbert return to the Château. Why had
he done so ? He had been in the courtyard when Nor-
bert threw the glass from the window. Putting all
these circumstances together, as soon as the inani-
mate body of the Duke had been laid upon a bed,
Jean went into the dining-room, feeling sure that
he should make some discovery which would con-
firm his suspicions. The bottle from which the Duke
had filled his glass stood half emptied upon the table.
With the greatest care, he poured a few drops of its
contents into the hollow of his hand, and tasted it
with the utmost caution. The wine still retained its
customary taste and scent. Not trusting, however,
to this, Jean, after making sure that he was not ob-
served, carried the bottle to his own room, and con-
cealed it. After taking this precaution, he ordered
one of the other servants to remain by the side of
the Duke until the arrival of the doctor, and then
went in search of Norbert.
For two hours his efforts were fruitless. Giving
up his search in despair, he turned once more to
regain the Château, and, taking the path through
the wood, suddenly perceived a human form stretched
on the turf beneath a tree. He moved cautiously
towards the figure, and at once recognized Norbert.
The faithful servant bent over his young master, and
shook him by the arm to arouse him from his state
of stupor. At the first touch, Norbert started to his
feet with a shriek of terror. With mingled fear and
pity, Jean noticed the look that shone in the young


IIO
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
man's eyes, more like that of some hunted animal
than a human being.
“Do not be alarmed, M. Norbert; it is only 1,"
said he.
“And what do you want?”.
“I came out to look for you, and to entreat you
to come back with me to Champdoce.”
“ Back to Champdoce ?” repeated Norbert hoarsely;
“no, never!”
“You must, Master Norbert; for your absence
now would cause a terrible scandal. Your place at
this critical time is by the bedside of your father.”
“Never! never !” repeated the poor boy; but he
yielded passively when Jean passed his arm through
his, and led him away towards the Château. Sup-
ported thus by the old man's arm, he crossed the
courtyard, and ascended the staircase; but at his
father's door he withdrew his hand, and struggled
to get away.
“I will not; no, no, I cannot,” gasped he.
“ You must and you shall,” returned the old man
firmly. “Whatever your feelings may be, no stain
shall rest on the family honor.”
These words roused Norbert; he stepped across the
room, and dropped on his knees by the bed, placing
his forehead upon his father's icy hand. He burst
into a passion of tears and sobs, and the simple
peasants, who surrounded the couch of the insensible
nobleman, breathed a sigh; for, from his pallid face
and burning eyes, they believed he must be mad. They
were not far out in this surmise; but the tears re-
lieved his over-wrought brain, and with this relief
came the sense of intense suffering. When the phy-


THE HONOR OF THE NAME
III
sician arrived, he was able to appear before him
merely as a deeply anxious son.
“There is no hope for the Duke, I regret to say,"
said the medical man, who felt that it was useless
to keep Norbert in suspense. “There is a feeble
chance of saving his life; but even should we suc-
ceed in doing so, his intellect will be irretrievably
gone. This is a sad truth, but I feel it my duty to
inform you of it. I will come again to-morrow.”.
As the doctor left the room, Norbert threw himself
into a chair, and clasped his hands round his head,
which throbbed until it seemed as if it would burst.
For more than half an hour he sat motionless, and
then started to his feet with a stifled cry; for he re-
membered the bottle into which he had poured the
poison, and which had been left on the table. Had
any one drunk from it? What had become of it?
The agony of his mind gave him the necessary
strength to descend to the dining-room; but the bottle
was not on the table, nor was it in its customary place
in the cupboard. The unhappy boy was looking for
it everywhere, when the door silently opened, and
Jean appeared on the threshold. The expression
upon his young master's face so startled the faithful
old man that he nearly dropped the lighted candle
that he carried in his hand.
“Why are you here, Master Norbert ? ” asked he
in a voice that trembled with emotion.
“I was looking for I wanted to find "
faltered Norbert..
Jean's suspicions at once became certainties; he
walked up to his young master, and whispered in his
ear,


112
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“You are looking for the Duke's bottle of wine,
are you not? It is quite safe; for I have taken it
to my room. To-morrow the contents shall be emp-
tied away, and there will be no proof existing.”
Jean spoke in such a low voice that Norbert guessed
rather than heard his words, and yet it seemed that
the accusing whisper resounded like thunder through
the Château, filling the old house from cellar to roof-
tree.
“Be quiet,” said he, laying his hand on the old
man's lips, and gazing around him with wild and
affrighted glances.
A more complete confession could hardly have
been made.
"Fear nothing, Master Norbert,” answered Jean;
“we are quite alone. I know that there are words
which should never be even breathed; and if I have
ventured to speak, it was because it was my duty to
warn you, and to inculcate on you the necessity of
caution.”
Norbert was filled with horror when he saw that
the old man believed him to be really guilty.
“Jean," cried he, “ you are wrong in your sus-
picions. I tell you that my father never tasted that
wine. I snatched the glass from him before his lips
had touched it. I flung it out into the courtyard,
and, if you search, you will find its scattered frag-
ments there still.”
"I am not sitting in judgment upon you; what
you tell me to believe I am ready to accept."
“Ah;” cried Norbert passionately," he does not
believe me; he thinks that I am guilty. I swear to
you by all that I hold most sacred in this world, that
I am innocent of this deed.”


THE HONOR OF THE NAME
II3
The attached servant shook his head with a melan-
choly air.
"Of course, of course," said he; “ but it is for us
two to save the honor of the house of Champdoce.
Should it happen that any suspicions should be
aroused, put all the guilt upon my shoulders. I will
defend myself in a manner which will only fix the
crime more firmly upon me. I will not throw away
the bottle, but will retain it in my room, so that it
may be found there, and its contents will be a dam-
natory evidence against me. What matters it how
a poor man like me is sent out of the world? but with
you it is different. You- "
Norbert wrung his hands in abject despair; the
sublime devotion of the old servant showed how firmly
Jean believed in his criminality. He was about to
assert his innocence further, when the loud sound
of a closing door was heard above stairs.
“Hush!” said the old man; “some one ap-
proaches; we must not be seen whispering together
like two plotters, for their suspicions would be cer-
tainly awakened; and I fear that my face or your
eyes will reveal the secret. Quick, go upstairs, and
endeavor, as soon as possible, to resume your calm-
ness. I beg you not to compromise the honor of
your name, which is in deadly peril.”
Without another word Norbert obeyed. His
father was alone, and only the man to whom Jean
had delegated the task of watcher remained by his
bedside. At the sight of his young master he rose.
“The prescription which the doctor ordered to be
made up has arrived,” said he. “I have adminis-
tered a dose to the Duke, and it seems to me that the
result has been favorable.”


114
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
Norbert drew up a heavy arm-chair to the foot
of the bed, and took his seat upon it. From this posi-
tion he could see his father's face. His brain was
dazed, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he
could recall the chain of events which had drawn
him towards the abyss into which he had so nearly
been precipitated.
The veil had been taken from his eyes, and he now
saw with perfect clearness and seemed again to hear
his father's voice as it roughly warned him that the
woman he loved was a mere plotter, who cared not
for him, but was scheming for his fortune and his
name. Then he had been furiously indignant and
looked upon the words as almost blasphemous, but
now he saw that his father was right. How was
it that he had not before seen that Diana was fling-
ing herself in his way, and that all her affected open-
ness and simplicity were merely the perfections of
art, and that step by step she had led him to the brink
of the terrible precipice which yawned before him?
The whole hideous part as played by Daumon was
no longer a sealed book to him. She whom he had
looked on as a pure and innocent girl was merely
the accomplice of a scheming villain like the Coun-
sellor, and after exciting his hatred and anger almost
to madness, had placed the poison which was to take
his father's life in his hands. A cold shiver ran
through him as he realized this, and all his ardent
love for Diana de Laurebourg was changed into a
feeling of loathing and disgust.
At last the first pale rays of dawn broke through
the casement, but before that Norbert, worn out with
conflicting emotions, had fallen into a restless and
uneasy sleep, and when he awoke the doctor was


THE HONOR OF THE NAME 115
standing by the bedside of the sick man. At the first
sound made by Norbert as he stirred in the chair,
the doctor came towards him, saying, “We shall
preserve his life.”
This prognostication was complete, for that very
evening the Duke de Champdoce was able to move
in his bed, the next day he uttered some incoherent
words, and later on asked for food; but the will of
iron had passed away, the features had lost their ex-
pression of determination, and the eye the glitter of
pride and power. Never again would the Duke be
able to exert that keen, stern intellect which had
enabled him to influence all those around him; and
in this terrible state of imbecility the haughty noble-
man would ever remain, fed and looked after like
a child, with no thought beyond his desires and his
warm fire, and without a care for anything that was
going on in the world around him.
After the enormity of his crime had been brought
before him, the greatness of the punishment that he
must endure now came across Norbert's mind. It
was only now that Jean had ventured to tell him
of M. de Puymandour's visit; and such a change had
taken place in Norbert that he looked upon this visit
as a special arrangement made by Providence.
“My father's will shall be carried out in every
respect," said he to himself, and without an hour's
delay he wrote to M. du Puymandour, begging him
to call, and hoping that the grief which had failen
upon him had in no way altered the plan which had
already been arranged.


116
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
CHAPTER X.
A THUNDERBOLT.
As the miner, who sets fire to the fuse and seeks
shelter from the coming explosion, so did Diana de
Laurebourg return to her father's house after her
visit to Daumon. During dinner it was impossible
for her to utter a word, and it was with the greatest
difficulty that she succeeded in swallowing a mouth-
ful. Fortunately neither her father nor mother took
any notice of her. They had that day received a
letter announcing the news that their son, for whose
future prosperity they had sacrificed Diana, was lying
dangerously ill in Paris, where he was living in great
style. They were in terrible affliction, and spoke of
starting at once, so as to be with him. They there-
fore expressed no surprise when, on leaving the table,
Diana pleaded a severe headache as an excuse for
retiring to her own room. When once she was
alone, having dismissed her maid, she heaved a deep
sigh of relief. She never thought of retiring to bed,
but throwing open her window, leaned out with her
elbow on the window-sill.
It seemed to her that Norbert would certainly make
some effort to see her, or at any rate by some means
to let her know whether he had succeeded or failed.
“But I must be patient,” murmured she, “ for I
can't hear anything until the afternoon of to-morrow.”
In spite, however, of her resolutions, patience fled
from her mind, and as soon as the servants had be-
gun moving about, she went out into the garden and
took up a position which commanded a view of the


118
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
and have been your dupe. You have thought to make
me a mere tool; your fine Norbert is a fool, but he
will pay for his doings with his head all the same."
At these gross insults Mademoiselle de Laurebourg
rose to her feet and attempted to speak, but he cut
her short.
"I can't stop to pick and choose my words, for I
feel at the present moment as if the axe of the guil-
lotine were suspended over my head. Now just
oblige me by getting out of this, and never show your
face here again.”
“ As you like. I will communicate with Champ-
doce.”
“You shall not,” exclaimed Daumon with a ges-
ture of menace. “ You might as well go and ask
how the Duke enjoyed the taste of the poison."
His words, however, did not deter Diana, for any
risk seemed preferable to her than the present state
of suspense.
With a glance of contempt at the Counsellor she
left the cottage, determined to act as she thought
fit.
After Diana's departure, Daumon felt too that he
must learn how matters were going on, and going
over to the Widow Rouleau's, he despatched her
daughter Françoise to the Château de Champdoce,
under the pretext that he wanted some money which
he had lent to one of the Duke's servants. He had
instructed the girl so cunningly that she had no sus-
picion of the real end and object of her mission, and
set out on it with the most implicit confidence. He
had not long to wait for her return, for in about half
an hour his messenger returned.


A THUNDERBOLT
119
“Well,” said he anxiously, “ has the scamp sent
my money?"
“No, sir, I am sorry to say that I could not even
get to speak to him.”
“How was that? Was he not at Champdoce?”
“I cannot even tell you that. Ever since the Duke
has been ill, the great gates of the Château have been
bolted, for it seems that the poor old gentleman is
at his last gasp.”
“Did you not hear what was the matter with him?"
"No, sir, the little I have told you I got from a
stable boy, who spoke to me through a grating in
the gate, but before he could say ten words Jean
came up and sent him off.”
“Do you mean Jean, the Duke's confidential man?”
“ Just so," returned the girl, “and very angry he
was. He abused the lad and told him to be off to
the stables, and then asked, “Well, my girl, and pray
what do you want?' I told him that I had come with
a message to the man Mechenit; but before I could
say any more he broke in with, “Well, he isn't here,
you can call again in a month.'”.
“You silly little fool, was that all you said ?”
“Not quite, for I said that I must see Mechenit.
Then, looking at me very suspiciously, he said, ' And
who sent you here, you little spy?'”
The Counsellor started.
“ Indeed! and what did you say in return?” asked
he.
“Why, of course I said that you had sent me.”
“Yes, yes, that was right.”
“And then Jean rubbed his hand over his chin,
and looking at me very curiously, said sternly,-


120 I 20
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“So you have come from the Counsellor, have
you? Ah, I see it all, and so shall he one of these
days."
At these words Daumon felt his knees give way
under him; but all further questioning was stopped
by the appearance of M. de Puymandour on his way
to Champdoce. He therefore dismissed Françoise,
and awaited the return of this gentleman, from whom
he hoped to gain the fullest information regarding
the Duke's malady. The intelligence which he re-
received calmed him a little, and repenting of his
treatment of Diana, he went and hung about the
gates of the Château de Laurebourg, until he was
lucky enough to catch sight of the girl in the garden,
for her anxiety would not permit her to remain
in the house. He beckoned to her, and then said,
“M. Norbert did not make the dose strong enough.
The Duke is as strong as a horse; but it is all right,
for should he live, he will be an idiot, and so our
end is as much gained as if he had died.”
“But why does not Norbert write to me?” asked
Diana seriously.
“Why, because he has some faint glimmerings of
common sense. How do you know that he may not
have half a dozen spies about him? You must wait.”
Diana and the Counsellor waited for a week, but
Norbert made no sign. Diana suffered agonies, and
the days seemed to pass with leaden feet. Sunday
came at last. The Marchioness de Laurebourg had
attended early Mass, and had given orders that her
daughter should go to high Mass under the escort
of her maid. Diana was highly pleased with this ar-
rangement, for she hoped to have a chance of seeing
Norbert, but she was disappointed. The Mass had


A THUNDERBOLT
I21
commenced when she entered, but the spot occupied
by the Duke and his son was vacant. She followed
the service in a purely mechanical manner, and at last
noticed that the priest had taken his place in the
pulpit.
This was generally an exciting moment for the in-
habitants of Bevron, for it was immediately before
the sermon that the banns of marriage were pub-
lished. The priest gazed blandly down upon the ex-
chief, and finally took from his breviary a sheet of
paper.
“I have,” said he, “to publish the banns of mar-
riage between- ” here he made a little pause, and
all the congregation were on the tenterhooks of ex-
pectation; “ between,” he continued, “ Monsieur Louis
Norbert, Marquis de Champdoce, a minor, and only
legitimate son of Guillaume Cæsar, Duke de Champ-
doce, and of his wife, Isabella de Barnaville, now
deceased, but who both formerly resided in this par-
ish, and Desirée Anne Marie Palouzet, minor, and
legitimate daughter of René Augustus Palouzet,
Count de Puymandour, and of Zoe Staplet, his wife,
but now deceased, also residents of this parish.”
This was the thunderbolt launched from the pul-
pit, which seemed to crush Diana into the earth, and
her heart almost ceased to beat.
“Let any one,” continued the priest,“ who knows
of any impediment to this marriage, take warning
that he or she must acquaint us with it, under the
penalty of excommunication. And at the same time
let him be warned under the same penalty to bring
forward nothing in malice or without some founda-
tion.”


A THUNDERBOLT
123
"Poor child! my dear daughter!” murmured her
“ you are all that is left to us now.”
Their son had died, and the sad news had been
brought to the Château while Diana was at Mass.
By her brother's death she had succeeded to a princely
fortune, and would now be one of the richest heir-
esses for many a mile round. Had this event hap-
pened but a week before, her marriage to Norbert
would have met with no opposition from his father,
and she would never have plunged into this abyss of
crime. It was more than the irony of fate; it was
the manifest punishment of an angry Divinity. She
shed no tear for her brother's death. Her thoughts
were all firmly fixed on Norbert, and that fearful
announcement made in the house of God rang still
in her ears. What could be the meaning of this
sudden arrangement, and why had the marriage been
so suddenly decided on?
She felt that some mystery lay beneath it all, and
vowed that she would fathom it to its nethermost
depths. What was it that had taken place at Champ-
doce? Had the Duke, contrary to Daumon's prog-
nostications, recovered? Had he discovered his son's
insidious attack upon his life, and only pardoned it
upon a blind compliance being given to his will? She
passed away the whole day in these vain suppositions,
and tried to think of every plan to stay the celebra-
tion of this union, for she had not given up her
hopes, nor did she yet despair of ultimate success.
Her new and unlooked-for fortune placed a fresh
weapon at her disposal, and she felt that the victory
would yet be hers if she could but see Norbert again,
were it but for a single instant. Was she not cer-


124 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
tain of the absolute power that she exercised over
him, for had she not by a few words induced him
to enter upon the terrible path of crime? She must
see him, and that without a moment's delay, for the
danger was imminent. A day now would be worth
a year hereafter. She determined that, upon that very
night, she would visit Champdoce. A little after
midnight, when all the inhabitants of the Château
were wrapped in slumber, she crept on tiptoe down
the grand staircase, and made her exit by a side door.
She had arranged her plan as to how she would
find Norbert, for he had often described the interior
arrangements of the Château to her. She knew that
his room was on the ground floor, with two windows
looking on to the courtyard. When, however, she
reached the old Château, she hesitated. Suppose
that she should go to the wrong window. But she
had gone too far to recede, and determined that if
any one else than Norbert should open the window,
she would turn and fly. She tapped at the window
softly, and then more loudly. She had made no mis-
take. Norbert threw open the window, with the
words,
“Who is there?”
“ It is I, Norbert; I, Diana.”
“ What do you want?” asked Norbert in an agi-
tated tone of voice. “What do you want to do here?”
She looked at him anxiously and hardly recog-
nized his face, so great was the change that had come
over it. It absolutely terrified her.
“Are you going to marry Mademoiselle de Puy-
mandour?” asked she.
“Yes I am.”
“ And yet you pretended to love me?"


A THUNDERBOLT
125
“Yes, I loved you ardently, devotedly, with a
love that drove me to crime; but you had no love;
you cared but for rank and fortune.”
Diana raised her hands to heaven in an agony of
despair.
“Should I be here at this hour if what you say
is true?” asked she wildly. “My brother is dead,
and I am as wealthy as you are, Norbert, and yet I
am here. You accuse me of being mercenary, and
for what reason? Was it because I refused to fly
with you from my father's house? Oh, Norbert, it
was but the happiness of our future life that I strove
to protect. It was ”.
Her speech failed her, and her eyes dilated with
horror, for the door behind Norbert opened, and the
Duke de Champdoce entered the room, uttering a
string of meaningless words, and laughing with that
mirthless laugh which is so sure a sign of idiotcy.
“ Can you understand now,” exclaimed Norbert,
pointing to his father," why the remembrance of my
love for you has become a hateful reminiscence? Do
you dare to talk of happiness to me, when this spectre
of a meditated crime will ever rise between us? ” and
with a meaning gesture he pointed to the open gate
of the courtyard.
She turned; but before passing away, she cast a
glance upon him full of the deepest fury and jealousy.
She could not forgive Norbert for his share in the
crime that she had herself prompted,—for the crime
which had blighted all her hopes of happiness. Her
farewell was a menace.
“Norbert,” she said, as she glided through the gate
like a spectre of the night, “I will have revenge, and
that right soon."


126
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
CHAPTER XI.
MARRIAGE BELLS; FUNERAL KNELLS.
THREE days of hard work had completed all the ar-
rangements necessary for the marriage of Norbert
and Mademoiselle de Puymandour. He had been
presented to the lady, and neither had received a
favorable impression of the other. At the very first
glance each one felt that inevitable repugnance which
the lapse of years can never efface. While dreading
the anger of her obdurate father, Marie had at one
time thought of confiding the secret of her attach-
ment to George de Croisenois to Norbert, for she
had the idea that if she told him that her heart was
another's, he might withdraw his pretensions to her
hand; but several times, when the opportunity oc-
curred, fear restrained her tongue, and she let the
propitious moment pass away. Had she done so,
Norbert would at once have eagerly grasped at a pre-
text for absolving himself from a promise which he
had made mentally of obeying in all things a father
who now, alas! had no means of enforcing his com-
mands.
Each day he paid his visit to Puymandour as an
accepted suitor, bearing a large bouquet with him,
which he regularly presented to his betrothed upon
his entrance into the drawing-room, which she ac-
cepted with a painful flush rising to her cheek. The
pair conversed upon indifferent topics, while an aged
female connection sat in the room to play propriety.
For many hours they would remain thus, the girl


MARRIAGE BELLS; FUNERAL KNELLS 127
bending over her fancy work, and he vainly striving
to find topics of conversation, and, consequently, say-
ing hardly anything, in spite of Marie's feeble ef-
forts to assist in the conversation. It was a slight
relief when M. de Puymandour proposed a walk; but
this was a rare occurrence, for that gentleman usu-
ally declared that he never had a moment's leisure.
Never had he seemed so gay and busy since the ap-
proaching marriage of his daughter had been the
theme of every tongue. He took all the preparations
for the ceremony into his own hands, for he had
determined that everything should be conducted on a
scale of unparalleled magnificence. The Château
was refurnished, and all the carriages repainted and
varnished, while the Champdoce and the Puyman-
dour arms were quartered together on their panels.
This coat of arms was to be seen everywhere—over
the doors, on the walls, and engraved on the silver,
and it was believed that M. de Puymandour would
have made no objection to their being branded on
his breast.
In the midst of all this turmoil and bustle Norbert
and Marie grew sadder and sadder as each day passed
on. One day M. de Puymandour heard so astound-
ing a piece of intelligence that he hurried into the
drawing-room, where he knew that he should find
the lovers (as he styled them) together.
“Well, my children,” exclaimed he, "you have set
such an excellent example, that everybody seems dis-
posed to copy you, and the mayor and the priest will
be kept to their work rather tightly this year."
His daughter tried to put on an appearance of in-
terest at this speech.
“Yes,” continued M. de Puymandour, “I have


128
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
just heard of a marriage that will come off almost
directly after yours has been celebrated, and will make
a stir, I can assure you."
“And whose is that, pray?"
“You are acquainted, I presume," returned her
father, addressing himself to Norbert, “with the son
of the Count de Mussidan?”
“What, the Viscount Octave?"
“The same.”
“He lives in Paris, does he not?”
“Yes, generally; but he has been staying at Mussi-
dan, and in the short space of a week has managed to
lose his heart here; and to whom do you think?
Come, give a guess.”
"We cannot think who it can be, my dear father,"
said Marie, “and we are devoured with curiosity.”
“ It is reported that the Viscount de Mussidan has
proposed for the hand of Mademoiselle de Laure-
bourg."
"Why,” remarked Marie, “it is only three weeks
since her brother died !”
Norbert Alushed scarlet, and then turned a livid
white; so great was his agitation at hearing this
news, that he nearly dropped the album which he
held in his hand.
"I like the Viscount,” continued M. de Puyman-
dour, “while Mademoiselle Diana is a charming girl.
She is very handsome, and, I believe, has many tal-
ents; and she is a good model for you to copy, Marie,
as you are so soon to become a duchess.”
When he got upon his favorite hobby, it was very
difficult to check M. de Puymandour. His daughter,
therefore, waited until he had concluded, and then
left the room, under the pretext of giving an order
land.


MARRIAGE BELLS; FUNERAL KNELLS 129
to the servants. The Count hardly noticed her ab-
sence, as he had still Norbert at his mercy.
"Reverting again to Mademoiselle Diana,” said he:
"she looks charming in black, for women should look
upon a death in the family as a most fortunate occur-
rence; but I ought not to be praising her to you,
who are so well acquainted with her.”
"I?” exclaimed Norbert.
“Yes, you. I do not suppose that you intend to
deny that you have had a little flirtation with her?”
"I do not understand you.”
“Well, I do then, my boy; I heard all about your
making love to her. Why, you are really blushing !
What is up now?”
“I can assure you— ".
De Puymandour burst into a loud laugh.
“I have heard a good deal of your little country
walks, and all the pretty things that you used to say
to each other.”
In vain did Norbert deny the whole thing, for his
intended father-in-law would not believe him; and at
last he got so annoyed that he refused to remain and
dine with the Count, alleging anxiety for his father
as an excuse. He returned home as soon as he pos-
sibly could, much agitated by what he had heard;
and as he was walking rapidly on, he heard his name
called by some one who was running after him:
Norbert turned round, and found himself face to
face with Montlouis.
“I have been here a week,” said the young man.
“I am here with my patron, for I have one now.
I am now with the Viscount de Mussidan, as his
private secretary. M. Octave is not the most agree-
able man in the world to get on with, as he gets into


130
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
the most violent passions on very trivial occasions;
but he has a good heart, after all, and I am very
pleased with the position I have gained.”
“I am very glad to hear it, Montlouis, very much
pleased indeed."
“ And you, Marquis, I hear, are to marry Made-
moiselle de Puymandour; I could scarcely credit the
news.”
“And why, pray?”
“Because I remembered when we used to wait out-
side a certain garden wall, until we saw a certain
door open discreetly.”
“But you must efface all this from your memory,
Montlouis.”
“Do not be alarmed; save to you, my lips would
never utter a word of this. No one else would ever
make me speak.”
“Stop!” said Norbert, with an angry gesture.
“Do you venture to say— ”
“To say what?”
“I wish you to understand that Mademoiselle
Diana is as free from blame to-day as she was when
first I met her. She has been indiscreet, but nothing
more, I swear it before heaven!”
“I believe you perfectly."
In reality Montlouis did not believe one word of
Norbert's assertion, and the young Marquis could
read this in his companion's face.
“ The more so," continued the secretary, “as the
young lady is about to be married to my friend and
patron.”
“But where," asked Norbert,“ did the Viscount
meet with Mademoiselle de Laurebourg ?”
“In Paris; the Viscount and her brother were very


MARRIAGE BELLS; FUNERAL KNELLS 131
intimate, and nursed him during his last illness, and
as soon as the scheming parents heard of the Vis-
count being in the neighborhood they asked him to
call on them. Of course he did so, and saw Made-
moiselle Diana, and returned home in a perfect
frenzy of love."
Norbert seemed so incensed at this that Mont-
louis broke off his recital, feeling confident that the
Marquis still loved Diana, and was consumed with
the flame of jealousy.
"But, of course," he added carelessly, “nothing
is yet settled.”
Norbert, however, was too agitated to listen to the
idle gossip of Montlouis any longer, so he pressed
his hand and left him rather abruptly, walking away
at the top of his speed, leaving his friend silent with
astonishment. It seemed to Norbert as if he was
imprisoned in one of those iron dungeons he had
read of, which slowly contracted day by day, and
at last crushed their victims to atoms. He saw Diana
married to the Viscount de Mussidan, and compelled
to meet daily the man who knew all about fier illicit
meetings with her former lover, and who had more
than once, when Norbert was unable to leave Champ-
doce, been intrusted with a letter or a message for
her. And how would Montlouis behave under the
circumstances? Would he possess the necessary tact
and coolness to carry him through so difficult a posi-
tion? What would be the end of this cruel con-
catenation of circumstances? Would Diana be able
to endure the compromising witness of her youth-
ful error? She would eagerly seek out some pre-
text for his dismissal; he could easily detect this,
and in his anger at the loss of a position which he


132 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
had long desired, would turn on her and repeat the
whole story. Should Montlouis let loose his tongue,
the Viscount, indignant at the imposition that had been
practised upon him, would separate from his wife.
What would be Diana's conduct when she found her-
self left thus alone, and despised by the society of
which she had hoped to be a queen? Would she not,
in her turn, seek to revenge herself on Norbert?
He had just asked himself whether at this juncture
death would not be a blessing to him, when he caught
sight of Françoise, the daughter of the Widow Rou-
leau, close by him. For two hours she had been
awaiting his coming, concealed behind a hedge.
"I have something to give you, my lord Marquis,"
said she.
He took the letter that she held out to him, and,
opening it, he read,-
“You said that I did not love you—perhaps this
was but a test to prove my love. I am ready to fly
with you to-night. I shall lose all, but it will be
for your sake. Reflect, Norbert; there is yet time,
but to-morrow it will be too late.”
These were the words that Mademoiselle de Laure-
bourg had had the courage to pen, which to the
former lover were full of the most thrilling eloquence.
The usually bold, firm writing of Diana was, in the
letter before him, confused and almost illegible, show-
ing the writer's frame of mind. There were blurs
and blisters upon the paper as though tears had
fallen upon it, perhaps because the writing had been
· made purposely irregular and drops of water are an
excellent substitute for tears.
“Does she really love me?" murmured he.
He hesitated; yes, he absolutely hesitated, im-


MARRIAGE BELLS; FUNERAL KNELLS 133
pressed by the idea that for him she was ready to
sacrifice position and honor, that he had but to raise
his finger and she was his, and that in the space of
a couple of hours she might be the companion of his
flight to some far-distant land. His pulse throbbed
madly, and he could scarcely draw his breath, when
some fifty paces down the road he caught sight of the
figure of a man; it was his father. This was the sec-
ond time that the Duke by his mere presence had
spread the web of Diana's temptations and allurements.
“Never !” exclaimed Norbert, with such fire and
energy that the girl fell back a pace. “Never! no,
never !” and crushing up the letter, he dashed it upon
the ground, from whence Françoise picked it up as
he ran forward to meet his father. The Duke had
recovered from his attack as far as the mere fact of
his life not having been sacrificed; he could walk,
sleep, eat and drink as he had formerly done. He
could look at the laborers in the fields or the horses
in the stables, but five minutes afterwards he had no
recollection of what he heard or saw. The sudden
loss of his father's aid would have caused Norbert
much embarrassment had it not been for the shrewd-
ness and sagacity of M. de Puymandour, who had as-
sisted him greatly. But all these arrangements which
had to be made had necessarily delayed the wedding.
But it came at last; M. de Puymandour took abso-
lute possession of him, and after the unhappy young
man had passed a sleepless night, he was allowed
no time for reflection. At eleven o'clock he entered
the carriage, and was driven fast to the Mayor's
office, and from thence to the chapel, and by twelve
o'clock all was finished and he fettered for life. A
little before dinner the Viscount de Mussidan came


134 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
to offer his congratulations, and gained them at the
same time for himself by announcing his speedy union
with Mademoiselle Diana de Laurebourg.
Five days later the newly married pair took pos-
session of their mansion at Champdoce. Hampered
with a wife whom he had never affected to love,
and whose tearful face was a constant reproach to
him, and with a father who was an utter imbecile,
the thoughts of suicide more than once crossed Nor-
bert's brain. One day a servant informed Norbert
that his father refused to get up. A doctor was sent
for, and he declared that the Duke was in a highly
critical condition. A violent reaction had taken place,
and all day the invalid was in a state of intense ex-
citement. The power of speech, which he had almost
entirely lost, seemed to have returned to him in a
miraculous manner; at length, however, he became
delirious, and Norbert dismissed the servants who
had been watching by his father's bed, lest in the in-
coherent ravings of the invalid, the words “Parri-
cide” or “Poison” should break forth. At eleven
o'clock he grew calmer, and slept a little, when all at
once he started up in bed, exclaiming: “Come here,
Norbert," and Jean, who had remained by his old
master's side, ran up to the bed and was much star-
tled at the sight. The Duke had entirely recovered
his former appearance. His eyes flashed, and his lips
trembled, as they always did when he was greatly
excited.
“Pardon, father; pardon,” cried Norbert, falling
upon his knees.
The Duke softly stretched out his hand. “I was
mad with family pride,” said he; "and God pun-
ished me. My son, I forgive you."


“RASH WORD, RASH DEED” 135
Norbert's sobs broke the stillness of the chamber.
“My son, I renounce my ideas,” continued the
Duke. “I do not desire you to wed Mademoiselle de
Puymandour if you feel that you cannot love her.”
“Father," answered Norbert, “I have obeyed your
wishes, and she is now my wife.”
A gleam of terrible anguish passed over the Duke's
countenance; he raised his hands as though to shield
his eyes from some grizzly spectre, and in tones of
heartrending agony exclaimed: “Too late! too late!”
He fell back in terrible convulsions, and in a mo-
ment was dead. If, as has been often asserted, the
veil of the hereafter is torn asunder, then the Duke
de Champdoce had a glimpse into a terrible future.
CHAPTER XII.
“RASH WORD, RASH DEED."
AFTER her repulse by Norbert, Diana, with the
cold chill of death in her heart, made her way back
to the Château of the De Laurebourgs, over the
same road which but a short time before she had tray-
eled full of expectation and hope. The sudden ap-
pearance of the Duke de Champdoce had filled her
with alarm, but her imagination was not of that kind
upon which unpleasant impressions remain for any
long period; for after she had regained her room,
and thrown aside her out-door attire, and removed
all signs of mud-stains, she once more became her-
self, and even laughed a little rippling laugh at all
her own past alarms. Overwhelmed with the shame


136 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
of her repulse, she had threatened Norbert; but as she
reasoned calmly, she felt that it was not he for whom
she felt the most violent animosity. All her hatred
was reserved for that woman who had come between
her and her lover-for Marie de Puymandour. Some
hidden feeling warned her that she must look into
Marie's past life for some reason for the rupture
of her engagement with Norbert, though the banns
had been already published. This was the frame of
mind in which Diana was when the Viscount de Mus-
sidan was introduced to her, the friend of the brother
whose untimely death had left her such a wealthy
heiress. He was tall and well made, with handsomely
chiseled features; and, endowed with physical strength
and health, Octave de Mussidan had the additional
advantages of noble descent and princely fortune.
Two women, both renowned for their wit and beauty,
his aunt and his mother, had been intrusted with the
education which would but enable him to shine in
society.
Dispatched to Paris, with an ample allowance, at
the age of twenty, he found himself, thanks to his
birth and connections, in the very center of the world
of fashion. At the sight of Mademoiselle de Laure-
bourg his heart was touched for the first time. Diana
had never been more charmingly fascinating than she
was at this period. Octave de Mussidan did not suit
her fancy; there was too great a difference between
him and Norbert, and nothing would ever efface from
her memory the recollection of the young Marquis
as he had appeared before her on the first day of their
meeting in the Forest of Bevron, clad in his rustic
garb, with the game he had shot dangling from his
hand. She delighted to feast her recollection, and


“RASH WORD, RASH DEED” 137
thought fondly of his shyness and diffidence when he
hardly ventured to raise his eyes to hers. Octave,
however, fell a victim at the first glance he caught of
Diana, and permitted himself to be swept away by
the tide of his private emotions, which upon every
visit that he paid to Laurebourg became more pow-
erful and resistless. Like a true knight, who wishes
that he himself should gain the love of his lady fair,
Octave addressed himself directly to Diana, and after
many attempts succeeded in finding himself alone with
her, and then he asked her if she could permit him to
crave of her father, the Marquis de Laurebourg, the
honor of her hand. This appeal surprised her, for she
had been so much absorbed in her own troubles that
she had not even suspected his love for her. She
was even frightened at his declaration, as is the pa-
tient when the surgeon informs him that he must use
the knife. She glanced at De Mussidan strangely as
he put this question to her, and after a moment's
hesitation, replied that she would give him a reply
the next day. After thinking the matter over, she
wrote and dispatched the letter which Françoise had
carried to Norbert. The prisoner in the dock, as he
anxiously awaits the sentence of his judge, can alone
appreciate Diana's state of agonized suspense as she
stood at the end of the park at Laurebourg awaiting
the return of the girl. Her anxiety of mind lasted
nearly three hours, when Françoise hurried up breath-
less.
“What did the Marquis say?" asked Diana.
“ He said nothing; that is, he cried out very an-
grily, 'Never! no, never!'"
In order to prevent any suspicions arising in the
girl's mind, Mademoiselle de Laurebourg contrived to


138 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
force a laugh, exclaiming: “Ah! indeed, that is just
what I expected.”
Françoise seemed as if she had something to say
on the tip of her tongue, but Diana hurriedly dis-
missed her, pressing a coin into her hand. All anx-
iety was now at an end; for her there was no longer
any suspense or anguish; all her struggles were now
futile, and she felt grateful to Octave for having given
her his love. “Once married,” thought she, “ I shall
be free, and shall be able to follow the Duke and
Duchess to Paris.”
Upon her return to the Château, she found Octave
awaiting her. His eyes put the question that his lips
did not dare to utter; and, placing her hand in his
with a gentle inclination of her head, she assented to
his prayer.
This act on her part would, she believed, free her
from the past; but she was in error. Upon hearing
that his dastardly attempt at murder had failed, the
Counsellor was for the time utterly overwhelmed with
terror, but the news that he had gained from M. de
Puymandour calmed his mind in a great measure.
He was not, however, completely reassured until he
heard for certain that the Duke had become a help-
less maniac, and that the doctor, having given up all
hopes of his patient's recovery, had discontinued his
visits to the Château. As soon as he had heard that
Norbert's marriage had been so soon followed by his
father's death, he imagined that every cloud had dis-
appeared from the sky. All danger now seemed at
an end, and he recalled with glee that he had in his
strong box the promissory notes, signed by Norbert,
to the amount of twenty thousand francs, which he
could demand at any moment, now that Norbert was


“RASH WORD, RASH DEED” 139
the reigning lord of Champdoce. The first step he
took was to hang about the neighborhood of Laure-
bourg, for he thought that some lucky chance would
surely favor him with an opportunity for a little con-
versation with Mademoiselle Diana. For several days
in succession he was unsuccessful, but at last he was
delighted at seeing her alone, walking in the direction
of Bevron. Without her suspecting it, he followed
her until the road passed through a small plantation,
when he came up and addressed her.
“What do you want with me?” asked she an-
grily.
He made no direct reply; but after apologizing for
his boldness, he began to offer his congratulations
upon her approaching marriage, which was now the
talk of the whole neighborhood, and which pleased
him much, as M. de Mussidan was in every way su-
perior to-
"Is that all you have to say to me?” asked Diana,
interrupting his string of words.
As she turned from him, he had the audacity to
lay his hand upon the edge of her jacket.
"I have more to say,” said he, “if you will honor
me with your attention. Something about you can
guess what.”
“ About whom or what?” asked she, making no
effort to hide her supreme contempt.
He smiled, glanced around to see that no one was
within hearing, and then said in a low voice,
"It is about the bottle of poison."
She recoiled, as though some venomous reptile had
started up in front of her.
" What do you mean?” cried she. “How dare you
speak to me thus?”


“RASH WORD, RASI DEED” 141
if the whole story comes to light? A mere nothing.
I am a poor man, and am growing old. You and M.
Norbert are the ones that have something to fear. You
are noble, rich, and young, and a happy future lies
before you."
Diana paused and thought for an instant.
“ You are speaking," answered she at last, "in a
most foolish manner. When charges are made against
people, proofs must be forthcoming."
“Quite right, mademoiselle; but can you say that
these proofs are not in my hands ? Should you, how-
ever, desire to buy them, you are at liberty to do so.
I give you the first option, and yet you grumble.”
As he spoke, he drew a battered leather pocket-book
from his breast, and took from it a paper, which, after
having been crumpled, had been carefully smoothed
out again. Diana glanced at it, and then uttered a
stifled cry of rage and fear, for she at once recognized
her last letter to Norbert.
“ That wretch, Françoise, has betrayed me,” ex-
claimed she, “and I saved her mother from a death
by hunger and cold.”
The Counsellor held out the letter to her. She
thought that he had no suspicion of her, and made an
attempt to snatch it from him ; but he was on his guard,
and drew back with a sarcastic smile on his face.
“No, mademoiselle," said he; “ this is not the little
bottle of poison; however, I will give it to you, together
with another one, when I have obtained what I ask.
Nothing for nothing, however; and if I must go to
the scaffold, I will do so in good company."
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg was in utter despair.
“ But I have no money,” said she. “Where is a
girl to find such a sum?”


142
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“ M. Norbert can find it.”
“Go to him, then.”
Daumon made a negative sign with his head.
“I am not quite such a fool," answered he; “I know
M. Norbert too well. He is the very image of his
father. But you can manage him, mademoiselle ; be-
sides, you have much interest in having the matter
settled.”
“ Counsellor !"
“ There is no use in beating about the bush. I come
to you humbly enough, and you treat me like so much
dirt. I will not submit to this, as you will find to your
cost. I never poisoned any one; but enough of this
kind of thing. To-day is Tuesday; if on Friday, by
six o'clock, I do not have what I have asked for, your
father and the Count Octave will have a letter from
me, and perhaps your fine marriage may come to noth-
ing after all.”
This insolence absolutely struck Diana dumb, and
Daumon had disappeared round a turning of the road
before she could find words to crush him for his vile
attempt at extortion. She felt that he was capable of
keeping his word, even if by so doing he seriously
injured himself without gaining any advantage.
A nature like Diana's always looks danger boldly in
the face. She had, however, but little choice how she
would act-for to apply to Norbert was the only
resource left to her—for she knew that he would do
all in his power to ward off the danger which threat-
ened both of them so nearly. The idea, however, of
applying to him for aid was repugnant to her pride.
To what depths of meanness and infamy had she de-
scended! and to what avail had been all her aspira-
tions of ambition and grandeur?


“RASH WORD, RASH DEED” 143
She was at the mercy of a wretch-of Daumon, in
fact. She was forced to go as a suppliant to a man
whom she had loved so well that she now hated him
with a deadly hatred. But she did not hesitate for
a moment. She went straight to the cottage of Widow
Rouleau, and despatched Françoise in quest of Nor-
bert.
She ordered the girl to tell him that he must without
fail be at the wicket gate in the park wall at Laure-
bourg on the coming night, where she would meet him,
and that the matter was one of life and death.
As Diana gave these orders to Françoise, the
woman's nervous air and flushed features plainly
showed that she was a mere creature of Daumon's;
but Mademoiselle de Laurebourg felt it would be un-
wise to take any notice of her discovery, but to abstain
from employing her in confidential communications for
the future.
As the hour of the meeting drew near a host of
doubts assailed her. Would Norbert come to the meet-
ing? Had Françoise contrived to see him? Might
he not be absent from home? It was now growing
dark, and the servants brought candles into the dining-
room, and Diana, contriving to slip away, gained the
appointed spot. Norbert was waiting, and when he
caught sight of her, rushed forward, but stopped as
though restrained by a sudden thought, and remained
still, as if rooted to the ground.
“You sent for me, mademoiselle? ” said he.
"I did.”
After a pause, in which she succeeded in mastering
her emotion, Diana began with the utmost volubility
to explain the extortion that Dawson was endeavoring
to practise upon her, magnifying, though there was


THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
but little need to do so, all the threats and menaces that
he had made use of. She had imagined that this last
piece of roguery on the part of Daumon would drive
Norbert into a furious passion, but to her surprise
it had no such effect. He had suffered so much and
so deeply, that his heart was almost dead against any
further emotion.
"Do not let this trouble you,” answered he apathet-
ically; " I will see Daumon and settle with him.”
“Can you leave me thus, at our last meeting, with-
out even a word ?" asked she.
“What have I to say? My father forgave me on his
death-bed, and I pardon you."
"Farewell, Norbert; we shall see no more of each
other. I am going to marry, as you have doubtless
been informed. Can I oppose my parent's will? Be-
sides, what does it signify? Farewell; remember no
one wishes more sincerely for your future happiness
than I do."
“Happy!” exclaimed Norbert. “How can I ever
be happy again? If you know the secret, for pity's
sake break it to me. Tell me how to forget and how
to annihilate thought. Do you not know that I had
planned a life of perfect happiness with you by my
side? I had visions; and now plans and visions are
alike hateful to me. And as they ever and anon recur
to my memory, they will fill me with terror and
despair.”
As Diana heard these words of agony, a wild gleam
of triumph shot from her eyes, but it faded away
quickly, and left her cold and emotionless as a marble
statue; and when she reappeared in the drawing-room,
after taking leave of Norbert, her face wore so satis-


“RASH WORD, RASH DEED”
145
fied an expression, that the Viscount complimented her
upon her apparent happiness.
She made some jesting retort, but there was a shade
of earnestness mixed with her playfulness, for to her
future husband she only wished to show the amiable
side of her character; but all the time she was think-
ing. Will Norbert see Daumon in time?
The Duke kept his word, and the next day the faith-
ful Jean discreetly handed her a packet. She opened
it, and found that besides the two letters of which the
Counsellor had spoken, it contained all her correspon-
dence with Norbert-more than a hundred letters in all,
some of great length, and all of them compromising
to a certain extent. Her first thought was to destroy
them, but on reflection she decided not to do so, and
hid the packet in the same place as she had concealed
the letters written by Norbert to her.
Norbert had given Daumon sixty thousand francs,
and in addition owed him twenty thousand on his
promissory notes. This sum, in addition to what he
had already saved, would form such a snug little
fortune that it would enable the Counsellor to quit
Beyron, and take up his abode in Paris, where his
peculiar talents would have more scope for develop-
ment. And eight days later the village was thrown
into a state of intense excitement by the fact becoming
known that Daumon had shut up his house and de-
parted for Paris, taking Françoise, the Widow Rou-
leau's daughter, with him. The Widow Rouleau was
furious, and openly accused Mademoiselle de Laure-
bourg of having aided in the committal of the act
which had deprived her of her daughter's services in
her declining years; and the old woman who had acted


146
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
as housekeeper, who on Daumon's departure had
thrown open the place, did not hesitate to assert that
all her late master's legal lore had been acquired in
prison, where he had undergone a sentence of ten
years' penal servitude.
In spite of all this, however, Mademoiselle de Laure-
bourg was secretly delighted at the departure of
Daumon and Françoise; for she experienced an intense
feeling of relief at knowing that she no longer was
in any risk of meeting her accomplice in her daily
walks. Norbert, too, was going to Paris with his wife;
and M. de Puymandour was going about saying that
his daughter, the Duchess of Champdoce, would not
return to this part of the country for some time to come.
Diana drew a long breath of relief, for it seemed
to her as if all the threatening clouds, which had
darkened the horizon, were fast breaking up and drift-
ing away. Her future seemed clear, and she could
continue the preparations for her marriage, which was
to be celebrated in a fortnight's time; and the friend
of Octave who had been asked to act as his best man
had answered in the affirmative.
Diana had taken accurate measurement of the love
that Octave lavished upon her, and did her utmost to
increase it. She had another cruel idea, and that was,
that the bewitching manner which she had assumed
towards her betrothed was excellent practice, and by
it she might judge of her future success in society
when she resided in Paris. Octave was utterly con-
quered, as any other man would have been under simi-
tar circumstances.
Upon the day of her wedding she was dazzling in
her beauty, and her face was radiant with happiness;
but it was a mere mask, which she had put on to con-


“RASH WORD, RASH DEED”
147
ceal her real feelings. She knew that many curious
eyes were fixed upon her as she left the chapel; and
the crowd formed a lane for her to pass through. She
saw many a glance of dislike cast upon her; but a
more severe blow awaited her, for on her arrival at
the Château de Mussidan, to which she was driven
directly after the ceremony, the first person she met
was Montlouis, who came forward to welcome her.
Bold and self-possessed as she was, the sight of this
man startled her, and a bright flush passed across her
face. Fortunately Montlouis had had time to prepare
himself for this meeting, and his face showed no token
of recognition. But though his salutation was of the
most respectful description, Madame de Massidan
thought she saw in his eyes that ironical expression of
contempt which she had more than once seen in Dau-
mon's face.
“That man must not, shall not, stay here," she
murmured to herself,
It was easy enough for her to ask her husband to
dismiss Montlouis from his employ, but it was a
dangerous step to take; and her easiest course was to
defer the dismissal of the secretary until some really
good pretext offered itself. Nor was this pretext long
in presenting itself; for Octave was by no means sat-
isfied with the young man's conduct. Montlouis,
who had been full of zeal while in Paris, had renewed
his liaison, on his return to Mussidan, with the girl
with whom he had been formerly entangled at Poitiers.
This, of course, could not be permitted to go on, and
an explosion was clearly to be expected; but what Di-
ana dreaded most was the accidental development of
some unseen chance.
After she had been married some two weeks, when


148
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
Octave proposed in the afternoon that they should go
for a walk, she agreed. Her preparations were soon
completed, and they started off, blithe and lively as
children on a holiday ramble. As they loitered in a
wooded path, they heard a dog barking in the cover.
It was Bruno, who rushed out, and, standing on his
hind legs, endeavored to lick Diana's face.
“ Help, help, Octave!” she exclaimed, and her hus-
band, springing to her side, drove away the animal.
“Were you very much alarmed, dearest?” asked he.
“Yes,” answered she faintly; “I was almost fright-
ened to death.”
"I do not think that he would do you any harm,"
remarked Octave.
“No matter; make him go away”; and as she spoke
she struck at him with her parasol. But the dog never
for a moment supposed that Diana was in earnest, and,
supposing that she intended to play with him, as she
had often done before, began to gambol round her,
barking joyously the whole time.
“But this dog evidently knows you, Diana," ob-
served the Viscount.
“ Know me? Impossible!” and as she spoke Bruno
ran up and licked her hand. “If he does, his memory
is better than mine; at any rate, I am half afraid of
him. Come, Octave, let us go.”
They turned away, and Octave would have forgotten
all about the occurrence had not Bruno, delighted at
having found an old acquaintance, persisted in follow-
ing them.
“This is strange,” exclaimed the Viscount, “very
strange indeed. Look here, my man,” said he, address-
ing a peasant, who was engaged in clipping a hedge
by the roadside,“ do you know whose dog this is ?”


“RASH WORD, RASH DEED” 149
“Yes, my lord, it belongs to the young Duke of
Champdoce."
“Of course," answered Diana, “I have often seen
the dog at the Widow Rouleau's, and have occasionally
given it a piece of bread. He was always with Fran-
çoise, who ran off with that man Daumon. Oh, yes,
I know him now; here, Bruno, here!”
The dog rushed to her, and, stooping down, she
caressed him, thus hoping to conceal her tell-tale face.
Octave drew his wife's arm within his without an-
other word. A strange feeling of doubt had arisen in
his mind. Diana, too, was much disturbed, and abused
herself mentally for having been so weak and cow-
ardly. Why had she not at once confessed that she
knew the dog? Had she said at once, “ Why, that is
Bruno, the Duke of Champdoce's dog," her husband
would have thought no more about the matter; but
her own folly had made much of a merely trivial
incident.
Ever since that fatal walk the Viscount's manner
appeared to have changed, and more than once Diana
fancied that she caught a look of suspicion in his eyes.
How could she best manage to make him forget this
unlucky event? She saw that for the rest of her life
she must affect a terror of dogs; and, for the future,
whenever she saw one, she uttered a little cry of alarm,
and insisted upon all Octave's being chained up. But
for all this she lived in a perfect atmosphere of sus-
picion and anxiety, while the very ground upon which
she walked seemed to have been mined beneath her
feet. Her sole wish now was to fly from Mussidan,
and leave Bevron and its environs, she cared not for
what spot. It had been first arranged that immediately
after the marriage they should make a short tour;


150
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
but, in spite of this, they still lingered at Mussidan;
and all that Diana could do was to keep this previous
determination before her husband, without making
any direct attack.
The blow came at last, and was more unexpected and
terrible than she had anticipated. On the afternoon
of the 26th of October, as Diana was gazing from her
window, an excited crowd rushed into the courtyard
of the Château, followed by four men bearing a litter
covered with a sheet, under which could be distin-
guished the rigid limbs of a dead body, while a cruel
crimson stain upon one side of the white covering too
plainly showed that some one had met with a violent
death.
The hideous sight froze Diana with terror, anu it
was impossible for her to leave the window or quit
the object on the litter, which seemed to have a ter-
rible fascination for her. That very morning her hus-
band, accompanied by his friend the Baron de Clin-
chain, Montlouis, and a servant named Ludovic, had
gone out for a day's shooting. It was evident that
something had happened to one of the party; which of
them could it be? The doubt was not of very long
duration ; for at that moment her husband entered the
courtyard, supported by M. de Clinchain and Ludovic.
His face was deadly pale, and he seemed scarcely able
to drag one leg after the other. The dead man there-
fore must be Montlouis. She need no longer plot and
scheme for the dismissal of the secretary, for his
tongue had been silenced for ever.
A ray of comfort dawned in Diana's heart at this
idea, and gave her the strength to descend the stair-
case. Halfway down she met M. de Clinchain, who


“RASH WORD, RASH DEED” 151
was ascending. He seized her by the arm, and said
hoarsely,
“Go back, madame, go back!”
“But tell me what has happened."
“A terrible calamity. Go back to your room, I beg
of you. Your husband will be here presently”; and,
as Octave appeared, he absolutely pushed her into her
own room.
Octave followed, and, extending his arms, pressed
his wife closely to his breast, bursting as he did so
into a passion of sobs.
“ Ah!” cried M. de Clinchain joyously, “ he is saved.
See, he weeps; I had feared for his reason."
After many questions and incoherent answers,
Madame de Mussidan at last arrived at the fact that
her husband had shot Montlouis by accident. Diana
believed this story, but it was far from the truth.
Montlouis had met his death at her hands quite as
much as the Duke de Champdoce had done. He had
died because he was the possessor of a fatal secret.
This was what had really occurred. After lunch,
Octave, who had drunk rather freely, began to rally
Montlouis regarding his mysterious movements, and
to assert that some woman must be at the bottom of
them. At first Montlouis joined in the laugh; but
at length M. de Mussidan became too personal in re-
marks regarding the woman his secretary loved, and
Montlouis responded angrily. This influenced his
master's temper, and he went on to say that he could
no longer permit such doings, and he reproached his
secretary for risking his present and future for a
woman who was worthy neither of love nor respect,
and who was notoriously unfaithful to him. Mont-


152
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
louis heard this last taunt with compressed lips and a
deep cloud upon his brow.
"Do not utter a word more, Count,” said he ; “I
forbid you to do so."
He spoke so disrespectfully that Octave was about
to strike him, but Montlouis drew back and avoided
the blow; but he was so intoxicated with fury that this
last insult roused him beyond all bounds.
“By what right do you speak thus,” said he,“ who
have married another man's mistress ? It well be-
comes you to talk of woman's virtue, when your wife
is a
He had no time to finish his sentence, for Octave,
levelling his gun, shot him through the heart.
M. de Mussidan kept these facts from his wife be-
cause he really loved her, and true love is capable of
any extreme; and he felt that, however strong the
cause might be, he should never have the courage to
separate from Diana; that whatever she might do in
the future, or had already done in the past, he could
not choose but forgive her.
Acquitted of all blame, thanks to Clinchain's and
Ludovic's evidence-for they had mutually agreed that
the tragical occurrence should be represented to have
been the result of an accident—the conscience of M.
de Mussidan left him but little peace. The girl whom
Montlouis had loved had been driven from her home
in disgrace, owing to having given birth to a son.
Octave sought her out, and, without giving any reason
for his generosity, told her that her son, whom she
had named Paul, after his father, Montlouis, should
never come to want.
Shortly after this sad occurrence, M. de Mussidan
and his wife quitted Poitiers, for Diana had more than


A SCHEME OF VENGEANCE
153
once determined that she would make Paris her resi-
dence for the future. She had taken into her service
a woman who had been in the service of Marie de
Puymandour, and through her had discovered that,
previous to her marriage with Norbert, Marie had
loved George de Croisenois; and she intended to use
this knowledge at some future date as a weapon with
which to deal the Duke de Champdoce a deadly blow.
CHAPTER XIII.
A SCHEME OF VENGEANCE.
The marriage between Norbert and Mademoiselle
de Puymandour was entirely deficient in that brief,
ephemeral light that shines over the honeymoon. The
icy wall that stood between them became each day
stronger and taller. There was no one to smooth away
inequalities, no one to exercise a kindly influence over
two characters, both haughty and determined. After
his father's death, when Norbert announced his inten-
tion of residing in Paris, M. de Puymandour highly
approved of this resolution, for he fancied that if he
were to remain alone in the country, he could to a
certain extent take the place and position of the late
Duke, and, with the permission of his son-in-law, at
once take up his residence at Champdoce.
Almost as soon as the young Duchess arrived in
Paris she realized the fact that she was the most un-
fortunate woman in the world. As Champdoce was
almost like her own home, her eyes lighted on familiar
scenes; and if she went out, she was sure of being.


154.
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
greeted by kindly words and friendly features; but in
Paris she only found solitude, for everything there
was strange and hostile. The late Duke, pinching and
parsimonious as he had been towards himself and his
son, launched out into the wildest extravagances when
he imagined he was working for his coming race, and
the home which he had prepared for his great-grand-
children was the incarnation of splendor and luxury.
Upon the arrival of Norbert and his wife, they
could almost fancy that they had only quitted their
town house a few days before, so perfect were all the
arrangements. Had Norbert been left to act for him-
self, he might have felt a little embarrassed, but his
trusty servant Jean aided him with his advice, and
the establishment was kept on a footing to do honor
to the traditions of the house of Champdoce. Every-
thing can be procured in Paris for money, and Jean
had filled the ante-rooms with lackeys, the kitchens
and offices with cooks and scullions, and the stables
with grooms, coachmen, and horses, while every de-
scription of carriage stood in the place appointed for
their reception.
But all this bustle and excitement did not seem in
the eyes of the young Duchess to impart life to the
house. It appeared to her dead and empty as a sepul-
chre. It seemed as if she were living beneath the
weight of some vague and indefinable terror, some
hideous and hidden spectre which might at any mo-
ment start from its hiding place and drive her mad
with the alarm it excited. She had not a soul in whom
she could confide. She had been forbidden by Nor-
bert to renew her acquaintance with her old Parisian
friends, for Norbert did not consider them of suffi-
cienily good family, and in addition he had used the


A SCHEME OF VENGEANCE
155
pretext of the deep mourning they were in to put off
receiving visitors for a twelvemonth at least. She felt
herself alone and solitary, and, in this frame of mind,
how was it possible for her not to let her thoughts
wander once again to George de Croisenois. Had
her father been willing, she might have been his wife
now, and have been wandering hand in hand in some
sequestered spot beneath the clear blue sky of Italy.
He had loved her, while Norbert-
Norbert was leading one of those mad, headstrong
lives which have but two conclusions—ruin or sui-
cide. His name had been put up for election at a
fashionable club by his uncle, the Chevalier de Sep-
traor, as soon as he arrived in Paris. He had been
elected at once, being looked on as a decided acquisi-
tion to the list of members. He bore one of the oldest
names to be found among the French nobility, while
his fortune-gigantic as it was—had been magnified
threefold by the tongue of common report. He was
received with open arms everywhere, and lived in a
perfect atmosphere of flattery. Not being able to shine
by means of cultivation or polish, he sought to gain
a position in his club by a certain roughness of de-
meanor and a cynical mode of speech. He flung away
his money in every direction, kept racers, and was
uniformly fortunate in his betting transactions. He
frequented the world of gallantry, and was constantly
to be seen in the company of women whose reputations
were exceedingly equivocal. His days were spent on
horseback, or in the fencing room, and his nights in
drinking, gambling, and all kinds of debauchery. His
wife scarcely ever saw him, for when he returned home
it was usually with the first beams of day, either half
intoxicated or savage from having lost large sums at


156
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
the gambling table. Jean, the old and trusty retainer
of the house of Champdoce, was deeply grieved, not
so much at seeing his master so rapidly pursuing the
path to ruin as at the fact that he was ever surrounded
by dissolute and disreputable acquaintances.
“Think of your name," he would urge; “ of the
honor of your name.”
“And what does that matter," sneered Norbert,
“provided that I live a jolly life, and shuffle out of the
world rapidly ? ”
There was one fixed star in all the dark clouds that
surrounded him, which now seemed to blaze brightly,
and this star was Diana de Mussidan. Do what he
would, it was impossible to efface her image from his
memory. Even amidst the fumes of wine and the de-
bauched revelry of the supper table he could see the
form that he had once so passionately loved standing
out like a pillar of light, clear and distinct against the
darkness. He had led this demoralizing existence for
fully six months, when one day, as he was riding down
the Avenue des Champs Elysées, he saw a lady give
him a friendly bow. She was seated in a magnificent
open carriage, wrapped in the richest and most costly
furs. Thinking that she might be one of the many
actresses with whom he was acquainted, Norbert
turned his horse's head towards the carriage; but as
he got nearer he saw, to his extreme amazement and
almost terror, that it was Diana de Mussidan who was
seated in it. He did not turn back, however; and as
the carriage had just drawn up, he reined in his horse
alongside of it. Diana was as much agitated as he
was, and for a moment neither of them spoke, but
their eyes were firmly fixed upon each other, and they
sat pale and breathless, as if each had some sad pre-


A SCHEME OF VENGEANCE
157
sentiment which fate was preparing for them both.
At last Norbert felt that he must break the silence, for
the servants were beginning to gaze upon them with
eyes full of curiosity.
“What, madame, you here, in Paris ? ” said he with
an effort.
She had drawn out a slender hand from the mass of
furs in which she was enveloped, and extended it to
him, as she replied in a tone which had a ring of ten-
derness beneath its commonplace tone,-
“Yes, we are established here, and I hope that we
shall be as good friends as we were once before. Fare-
well, until we meet again.”
As if her words had been a signal, the coachman
struck his horses lightly with his whip, and the mag-
nificent equipage rolled swiftly away. Norbert had
not accepted Diana's proffered hand, but presently he
realized the whole scene, and plunging his spurs into
his horse dashed furiously up the Avenue in the direc-
tion of the Arc de Triomphe.
“Ah,” said he, as a bitter pang of despair shot
through his heart, “ I still love her, and can never care
for any one else; but I will see her again. She has not
forgotten me. I could read it in her eyes, and detect
it in the tones of her voice.” Here a momentary
gleam of reason crossed his brain. “But will a woman
like Diana ever forgive an offence like mine ? and when
she seems most friendly the danger is the more
near.”
Unfortunately he thrust aside this idea, and refused
to listen to the voice of reason. That evening he
went down to his club with the intention of asking a
few questions regarding the Mussidans. He heard
enough to satisfy himself, and the next day he met


158
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
Madame de Mussidan in the Champs Elysées, and
day they exchanged a few words, and at last Diana,
with much simulated hesitation, promised to alight
from her carriage when next they met in the Bois,
and talk to Norbert unhampered by the presence of
the domestics.
Madame de Mussidan had made the appointment
for three o'clock, but before two Norbert was on the
spot, in a fever of expectation and doubt.
“Is it I," asked he of himself, “waiting once more
for Diana, as I have so often waited for her at
Bevron?”
Ah, how many changes had taken place since then!
He was now no longer waiting for Diana de Laure-
bourg, but for the Countess de Mussidan, another
man's wife, while he also was a married man. It was
no longer the whim of a monomaniac that kept them
apart, but the dictates of law, honor, and the world.
“Why,” said he, in a mad burst of passion, “why
should we not set at defiance all the cold social rules
framed by an artificial state of society; why should not
the woman leave her husband and the man his wife?”
Norbert had consulted his watch times without number
before the appointed hour came. " Ah,” sighed he,
“suppose that she should not come after all.”
As he said these words a cab stopped, and the
Countess de Mussidan alighted from it. She came
rapidly along towards him, crossing an open space
without heeding the irregularities of the ground, as
that diminished the distance which separated her from
Norbert. He advanced to meet her, and taking his
arm, they plunged into the recesses of the Bois. There
had been heavy rain on the day previous, and the path-


A SCHEME OF VENGEANCE 159
way was wet and muddy, but Madame de Mussidan did
not seem to notice this.
“Let us go on,” said she, “ until we are certain
of not being seen from the road. I have taken every
precaution. My carriage and servants are waiting for
me in front of St. Philippe du Roule; but for all that I
may have been watched.”
“You were not so timid in bygone days."
“ Then I was my own mistress; and if I lost my
reputation, the loss affected me only; but on my wed-
ding day I had a sacred trust confided to me the
honor of the man who has given me his name, and that
I must guard with jealous care.”
“ Then you love me no longer."
She stopped suddenly, and overwhelming Norbert
with one of those glacial glances which she knew so
well how to assume, answered in measured accents,
“Your memory fails you; all that has remained to
me of the past is the rejection of a proposal conveyed
in a certain letter that I wrote.”
Norbert interrupted her by a piteous gesture of en-
treaty.
“Mercy!” said he. “You would pardon me if you
knew all the horrors of the punishment that I am
enduring. I was mad, blind, besotted, nor did I love
you as I do at this moment.”
A smile played round Diana's beautiful mouth, for
Norbert had told her nothing that she did not know
before, but she wished to hear it from his own lips.
“Alas!” murmured she; “I can only frame my
reply with the fatal words, 'Too late!'".
“Diana!”
He endeavored to seize her hand, but she drew it
away with a rapid movement.


160
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“Do not use that name," said she ; "you have no
right to do so. Is it not sufficient to have blighted the
young girl's life? and yet you seek to compromise the
honor of the wife. You must forget me; do you un-
derstand ? It is to tell you this that I am here. The
other day, when I saw you again, I lost my self-com-
mand. My heart leapt up at the sight of you, and, fool
that I was, I permitted you to see this; but base no
hopes on my weakness. I said to you, Let us be
friends. It was a mere act of madness. We can never
be friends, and had better, therefore, treat each other as
strangers. Do you forget that lying tongues at Bevron
accused me of being your mistress? Do you think that
this falsehood has not reached my husband's ears?
One day, when your name was mentioned in his pres-
ence, I saw a gleam of hatred and jealousy in his eye.
Great heavens! should he, on my return, suspect that
my hand had rested in yours, he would expel me from
his house like some guilty wretch! The door of our
house must remain for ever closed to you. I am miser-
able indeed. Be a man; and if your heart still holds
one atom of the love you once bore for me, prove it
by never seeking me again.”
As she concluded she hurried away, leaving in Nor-
bert's heart a more deadly poison than the one she had
endeavored to persuade the son to administer to his
father, the Duke de Champdoce. She knew each
chord that vibrated in his heart, and could play on it
at will. She felt sure that in a month he would again
be her slave, and that she could exercise over him a
sway more despotic than she had yet done, and, in
addition to this, that he would assist her in executing
a cruel scheme of revenge, which she had long been
plotting.


FALSE FRIEND, OLD LOVER
161
After having followed Diana about like her very
shadow for several days, Norbert at last again ven-
tured to approach her in the Champs Elysées. She was
angry, but not to such an extent that he feared to
repeat his offence. Then she wept, but her tears could
not force him to avoid her. At first her system of
defence was very strong, then it gradually grew
weaker. She granted him another interview, and then
two others followed. But what were those meetings
worth to him? They took place in a church or a pub-
lic gallery, in places where they could scarcely ex-
change a grasp of the hand. At length she told him
that she had thought of a place which would render
their interviews less perilous, but that she hardly
dared tell him where it was. He pressed her to tell
him, and, by degrees, she permitted herself to be per-
suaded. Her idea was to become the friend of the
Duchess of Champdoce.
Norbert now felt that she was more an angel than a
woman, and it was agreed that on the next day he
himself would introduce her to his wife.
CHAPTER XIV.
FALSE FRIEND, OLD LOVER.
It was on a Wednesday morning that the Duke de
Champdoce, instead of, as usual, going to his own or
one of his friends' clubs to breakfast, took his seat at
the table where his wife was partaking of her morn-
ing meal. He was in excellent spirits, gay, and full
of pleasant talk, a mood in which his wife had never
seen him since their ill-fated marriage. The Duchess


162
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
could not understand this sudden change in her hus-
band; it terrified and alarmed her, for she felt that it .
was the forerunner of some serious event, which would
change the current of her life entirely.
Norbert waited until the domestics had completed
their duty and retired, and as soon as he was alone
with his wife he took her hand and kissed it with an
air of gallantry.
“It has been a long time, my dear Marie, since I
had resolved to open my heart to you entirely, and now
a full and open explanation has become absolutely nec-
essary.”
“ An explanation !” faltered Marie.
“Yes, certainly; but do not let the word alarm you.
I fear that I must have appeared in your eyes the most
morose and disagreeable of husbands. Permit me to
explain. Since we came here, I have gone about my
own affairs, I have gone out early and returned ex-
tremely late, and sometimes three days have elapsed
without our even setting eyes on each other.”
The young Duchess listened to him like a woman
who could not believe her ears. Could this be her
husband who was heaping reproaches upon himself in
this manner?
“I have made no complaint,” stammered she.
"I know that, Marie; you have a noble and for-
giving nature; but, however, it is impossible, as a
woman, that you should not have condemned me.”
“Indeed, but I have not done so."
“ So much the better for me. On this I shall not
have to find either defence or excuse for my conduct;
you must know, however, that you are ever foremost
in my thoughts, even when I am away from you.”
He was evidently doing his best to put on an air


FALSE FRIEND, OLD LOVER
163
of tenderness and affection, but he failed; for though
his words were kind, the tone of his voice was neither
tender nor sympathetic.
“I hope I know my duty," said the Duchess.
“Pray, Marie,” broke in he, “ do not let the word
duty be uttered between us. You know that you have
been much alone, because it was impossible for the
friends of Mademoiselle de Puymandour to be those
of the Duchess de Champdoce!”
“Have I made any opposition to your orders?”
“Then, too, our mourning prevents us going out
into the world for five months longer at least.”
“Have I asked to go out?”
“ All the more reason that I should endeavor to
make your home less dull for you. I should like you to
have with you some person in whose society you could
find pleasure and distraction. Not one of those foolish
girls who have no thought save for balls and dress,
but a sensible woman of the world, and, above all, one
of your own age and rank,—a woman, in short, of
whom you could make a friend. But where can such a
one be found ? It is a perilous quest to venture
and misery of a home.
that I have discovered the very one that will suit you.
I met her at the house of Madame d'Ailange, who
spoke eloquently of her charms of mind and body, and
I hope to have the pleasure of presenting her to you
to-day.”
“Here, at our house?”
“Certainly; there is nothing odd in this. Besides,
the lady is no stranger to us; she comes from our own
part of the country, and you know her.”


164
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
A flush came over his face, and he busied himself
with the fire to conceal it as he added,
“You recollect Mademoiselle de Laurebourg ?”
“Do you mean Diana de Laurebourg?”
“Exactly so.”
“I saw very little of her, for my father and hers
did not get on very well together. The Marquis de
Laurebourg looked on us as too insignificant to ”
“Ah, well,” interrupted he, “I trust that the
daughter will make up for the father's shortcomings.
She married just after our wedding had been cele-
brated, and her husband is the Count de Mussidan.
She will call on you to-day, and I have told your serv-
ants to say that you are at home.”
The silence that followed this speech lasted for
nearly a couple of minutes, and became exceedingly
embarrassing, when suddenly the sound of wheels was
heard on the gravel of the courtyard, and in a moment
afterwards a servant came and announced that the
Countess de Mussidan was in the drawing-room. Nor-
bert rose, and, taking his wife's arm, led her away.
“Come, Marie, come," said he; “she has arrived."
Diana had reflected deeply before she had taken this
extraordinarily bold step. In paying a visit so con-
trary to all the usual rules of etiquette, she exposed
herself to the chance of receiving a severe rebuff. The
few seconds that elapsed while she was still alone in
the drawing-room seemed like so many centuries; but
the door was opened, and Norbert and his wife ap-
peared. Then, with a charming smile, Madame de
Mussidan rose and bowed gracefully to the Duchess de
Champdoce, making a series of half-jesting apologies
for her intrusion. She had been utterly unable, she
said, to resist the pleasure she should experience in


FALSE FRIEND, OLD LOVER
165
seeing an old county neighbor, the more so as they
were now separated by so short a distance. She had,
therefore, disregarded all the rules of etiquette so that
they might have a cosy chat about Poitiers, Bevron,
Champdoce, and all the county where she had been
born, and which she so dearly loved.
The Duchess listened in silence to this torrent of
words, and the expression of her face showed how sur-
prised she was at this unexpected visit. A less per-
fectly self-possessed woman than Diana de Mussidan
might have felt abashed, but the slight annoyance was
not to be compared to the prospective advantages that
she hoped to gain, and she brought all the mettle of her
talent and diplomacy into play.
Norbert was moving about the room, half ashamed
of the ignoble part that he was playing. As soon as
he thought that the welcome between the two ladies
had been partially got over, and imagined that they
were conversing more amicably together, he slipped
out of the room, not knowing whether to be pleased or
angry at the success of the trick.
The trick was rather a more difficult one than Diana
had, from Norbert's account, anticipated, as she had
thought that she would have been received by the
Duchess like some ministering angel sent down to
earth to console an unhappy captive. She had ex-
pected to find a simple, guileless woman, who, upon
her first visit, would throw her arms round her visi-
tor's neck and yield herself entirely to her influence.
Far, however, from being dismayed, Diana was rather
pleased at this unexpected difficulty, and so fully ex-
erted all her powers of fascination, that when she
progress.


166
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
On that very evening the Duchess remarked to her
husband,
“I think that I shall like Madame de Mussidan; she
seems an excellent kind of woman.”
“Excellent is just the proper word,” returned Nor-
bert. “All Bevron was in tears when she was married
and had to leave, for she was a real angel among the
poor.”
Norbert was intensely gratified by Diana's success;
for was it not for him that she had displayed all her
skill, and was not this a proof that she still cherished
a passion for him ?
He was not, however, quite so much pleased when
he met Madame de Mussidan the next day in the
Champs Elysées. She looked sad and thoughtful.
“What has gone wrong?” asked he.
“I am very angry with myself for having listened
to the voice of my own heart and to your entreaties,”
answered she, “and I think that both of us have com-
mitted a grave error."
“ Indeed, and what have we done?”.
“Norbert, your wife suspects something."
“Impossible! why, she was praising you after you
had left."
“If that is the case, then she is indeed a much more
clever woman than I had imagined, for she knows how
to conceal her suspicions until she is in a position to
prove them.”
Diana spoke with such a serious air of conviction,
that Norbert became quite alarmed.
“What shall we do?” asked he.
“The best thing would be to give up meeting each
other, I think.”
“Never ; I tell you, never ! ”


FALSE FRIEND, OLD LOVER
167
“Let me reflect; in the meantime be prudent; for
both our sakes, be prudent.”
To further his ends, Norbert entirely changed his
mode of life. He gave up going to his clubs, refused
invitations to fast suppers, and no longer spent his
nights in gambling and drinking. He drove out with
his wife, and frequently spent his evenings with her,
and at the club began to be looked on as quite a model
husband. This great change, however, was not ef-
fected without many a severe inward struggle. He
felt deeply humiliated at the life of deception that he
was forced to lead, but Diana's hand, apparently so
slight and frail, held him with a grip of steel.
“We must live in this way,” said she, in answer
to his expostulations, “first, because it must be so;
and, .secondly, because it is my will. On our present
mode of conduct depends all our future safety, and I
wish the Duchess to believe that with me happiness and
content must have come to her fireside.”
Norbert could not gainsay this very reasonable prop-
osition on the part of Madame de Mussidan, for he
was more in love than ever, and the terrible fear that
if he went in any way contrary to her wishes that she
would refuse to see him any more, stayed the words
of objection that rose to his lips.
After hesitating for a little longer, the Duchess made
up her mind to accept the offer of friendship which
Diana had so ingenuously offered to her, and finished
by giving herself up to the bitterest enemy that she
had in the world. By degrees she had no secrets from
her new friend, and one day, after a long and confi-
dential conversation, she acknowledged to Diana the
whole secret of the early love of her girlish days, the
memory of which had never faded from the inmost


168 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
recesses of her heart, and was rash enough to men-
tion George de Croisenois by name. Madame de Mus-
sidan was overjoyed at what she considered so signal
a victory.
“Now I have her,” thought she, “and vengeance is
within my grasp.”
Marie and Diana were now like two sisters, and
were almost constantly together; but this intimacy had
not given to Norbert the facile means of meeting Diana
which he had so ardently hoped for. Though Madame
de Mussidan visited his house nearly every day, he ab-
solutely saw less of her than he had done before, and
sometimes weeks elapsed without his catching a
glimpse of her face. She played her game with such
consummate skill, that Marie was always placed as a
barrier between Norbert and herself, as in the farce,
when the lover wishes to embrace his mistress, he finds
the wrinkled visage of the duenna offered to his lips.
Sometimes he grew angry, but Diana always had some
excellent reason with which to close his mouth. Some-
times she held up his pretensions to ridicule, and at
others assumed a haughty air, which always quelled in-
cipient rebellion upon his part.
“What did you expect of me?” she would say,
"and of what base act did you do me the honor to con-
sider me capable?”
He was treated exactly like a child, or more cruel
still, like a person deficient in intellect, and this he was
thoroughly aware of. He could not meet Madame de
Mussidan as he had formerly done, for now in the
Bois, at Longchamps, or at any place of public amuse-
ment she was invariably surrounded by a band of fash-
ionable admirers, among whom George de Croisenois
was always to be found. Norbert disliked all these


FALSE FRIEND, OLD LOVER
169
men, but he had a special antipathy to George de
Croisenois, whom he regarded as a supercilious fool;
but in this opinion he was entirely wrong, for the Mar-
quis de Croisenois was looked upon as one of the most
talented and witty men in Parisian society, and in this
case the opinion of the world was a well-founded one.
Many men envied him, but he had no enemies, and his
honest and straightforward conduct was beyond all
doubt. He had all the noble instincts of a knight of the
days of chivalry.
“Pray,” asked Norbert, “what is it that you can
see in this sneering dandy who is always hanging about
you?”
But Diana, with a meaning smile, always made the
same reply,
“You ask too much; but some time you will learn
all."
Every day she contrived, when with the Duchess, to
turn the conversation skilfully upon George de Croise-
nois, and she had in a manner accustomed Marie to
look certain possibilities straight in the face, from the
very idea of which she would a few months back have
recoiled with horror. This point once gained, Madame
de Mussidan believed that the moment had arrived to
bring the former lovers together again, and fancied
that one sudden and unexpected encounter would ad-
vance matters much more quickly than all her half-
veiled insinuations. One day, therefore, when the
Duchess had called on her friend, on entering the
drawing-room, she found it only tenanted by George
de Croisenois. An exclamation of astonishment fell
from the lips of both as their eyes met; the cheek of
each grew pale. The Duchess, overcome by her feel-
ings, sank half-fainting into a chair near the door.


170
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“Ah," murmured he, scarcely knowing the mean-
ing of the words he uttered, “I had every confidence
in you, and you have forgotten me.”
“You do not believe the words you have just
spoken," returned the Duchess haughtily; "but,” she
added in softer accents, “what could I do? I may
have been weak in obeying my father, but for all that
I have never forgotten the past.”
Madame de Mussidan, who had stationed herself
behind the closed door, caught every word, and a gleam
of diabolical triumph flashed from her eyes. She felt
sure that an interview which began in this manner
would be certain to be repeated, and she was not in
error. She soon saw that by some tacit understanding
the Duchess and George contrived to meet constantly
at her house, but this she carefully abstained from no-
ticing. Things were working exactly as she desired,
and she waited, for she could well afford to do so,
knowing that the impending crash could not long be
delayed.
CHAPTER XV.
A STAB IN THE DARK.
SEPTEMBER had now arrived; and though the
weather was very bad, the Duke de Champdoce, accom-
panied by his faithful old servant, Jean, left Paris on a
visit to his training stables. Having had a serious dif-
ference with Diana, he had made up his mind to try
whether a long absence on his part would not have the
effect of reducing her to submission, and at the same


A STAB IN THE DARK
171
time remembering the proverb, that "absence makes
the heart grow fonder.”
He had already been away two whole days, and was
growing extremely anxious at not having heard from
Madame de Mussidan, when one evening, as he was
returning from a late inspection of his stud, he was
informed that there was a man waiting to see him.
The man was a poor old fellow belonging to the place,
who eked out a wretched subsistence by begging, and
executing occasional commissions.
“Do you want me?” asked the Duke.
With a sly look, the man drew from his pocket a
letter.
“ This is for you," muttered he.
“All right; give it to me, then.”
“I was told to give it to you only in private.”
“Never mind that; hand it over."
“Well, if I must, I must.”
Norbert's sole thought was that this letter must have
come from Diana, and throwing the man a coin, hur-
ried to a spot where it was light enough to read the
missive. He did not, however, recognize Diana's firm,
bold hand on the envelope.
“Who the devil can this be from?” thought Nor-
bert, as he tore open the outer covering. The paper
within was soiled and greasy, and the handwriting was
of the vilest description, it was full of bad spelling,
and ran thus:
“ SIR, —
“I hardly dare tell you the truth, and yet my con-
science will give me no relief until I do so. I can no
longer bear to see a gentleman such as you are deceived
by a woman who has no heart or honorable feeling.
Your wife is unfaithful to you, and will soon make you


172
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
a laughing stock to all. You may trust to this being
true, for I am a respectable woman, and you can easily
find out if I am lying to you. Hide yourself this even-
ing, so that you may command a view of the side-door
in the wall of your garden, and between half-past ten
and eleven you will see your wife's lover enter. It is
a long time since he has been furnished with a key.
The hour for the meeting has been judiciously fixed,
for all the servants will be out; but I implore you not to
be violent, for I would not do your wife any harm, but
I feel that you ought to be warned.
“ From one
“Who Knows.”
Norbert ran through the contents of this infamous
anonymous letter in an instant. The blood surged
madly through his brain, and he uttered a howl of fury.
His servants ran in to see what was the matter.
“Where is the fellow who brought this letter ? ” said
he. “Run after him and bring him back to me.”
In a few minutes the sturdy grooms made their ap-
pearance, pushing in the messenger, who seemed over-
powered with tears.
“I am not a thief,” exclaimed he. “ It was given to
me, but I will give it back.”
He was alluding to the louis given to him by Nor-
bert, for the largeness of the sum made him think that
the donor had made a mistake.
“Keep the money," said the Duke; “I meant it for
you; but tell me who gave this letter to you.”
“I can't tell you," answered the man. "If I ever
saw him before, may my next glass of wine choke me.
He got out of a cab just as I was passing near the
bridge, and calling to me, said, 'Look at this letter ;
at half-past seven take it to the Duke de Champdoce,
who lives by his stables in the road to the Forest. Do


A STAB IN THE DARK 173
you know the place?' 'Yes,' I says, and then he slips
the letter and a five-franc piece into my hand, got back
into the cab, and off he went.”
“What was the man like?” asked he.
“Well, I can hardly say. He wasn't young or old,
or short or tall. I recollect he had a gold watch-chain
on, but that was about all I noticed.”
“ Very well; you can be off.”
At this moment Norbert's anger was turned against
the writer of the letter only, for he did not place the
smallest credence in the accusations against his wife.
If he did not love her, he at any rate respected her.
“My wife," said he to himself, “is an honorable and
virtuous woman, and it is some discharged menial who
has taken this cowardly mode of revenge.” A closer
inspection of the letter seemed to show him that the
faults in caligraphy were intentional. The concluding
portion of the letter excited his attention, and, calling
Jean, he asked him if it was true that all his servants
would be absent from the house to-day.
“There will be none there this evening; not until
late at night,” answered the old man.
“And why, pray?"
“Have you forgotten, your Grace, that the first
coachman is going to be married, and the Duchess was
good enough to say that all might go to the wedding
dinner and ball, as long as some one remained at the
porter's lodge?”
After the first outburst, Norbert affected an air of
calmness, and laughed at the idea of having permitted
himself to be disturbed for so trivial a cause. But this
was mere pretence, for doubt and suspicion had en-
tered his soul, and no power on earth could expel them.
“Why should not my wife be unfaithful to me?”


174 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
thought Norbert. "I give her credit for being honor-
able and right-minded, but then all deceived husbands
have the same idea. Why should I not take advantage
of this information, and judge for myself? But no.
I will not stoop to such an act of baseness. I should
be as infamous as the writer of this letter if I was to
play the spy, as she recommends me to do." He
glanced round, and perceived that his servants were
looking at him with undisguised curiosity.
“Go to your work," said he. “Extinguish the
lights, and see that all the doors and windows are care-
fully closed.”
He had made up his mind now, and taking out his
watch, saw that it was just eight o'clock. “ I have time
Then he called Jean to him again. There was no need
to conceal anything from this trusty adherent of the
house of Champdoce. “I must start for Paris,” said
with an expression of the deepest sorrow upon his
features.
“Yes, for that reason only."
“Some one has been making false charges against
the Duchess."
“ How do you know that?”
“ It was easy enough to guess.”
“Have the carriage got ready, and tell the coach-
man to wait for me in front of the club. I myself
will go on foot.”
“ You must not do that,” answered Jean gravely.
“ The servants may have conceived the same suspicions
as I have. You ought to creep away without any one
being a bit the wiser. The other domestics need not


A STAB IN THE DARK
175
even suppose that you have left the house. I can get
you a horse out of the little stables without any one
being the wiser. I will wait for you on the other side
of the bridge.”
“Good; but remember that I have not a moment to
lose.”
Jean left the room, and as he reached the passage
Norbert heard him say to one of the servants, “ Put
some cold supper on the table; the Duke says that he is
starving."
Norbert went into his bedroom, put on a great coat
and a pair of high boots, and slipped into his pocket a
revolver, the charges of which he had examined with
the greatest care. The night was exceedingly dark, a
fine, icy rain was falling, and the roads were very
heavy. Norbert found Jean with the horse at the ap-
pointed spot, and as he leaped into the saddle the Duke
exclaimed, “Not a soul saw me leave the house."
“Nor I either," returned the attached domestic. “I
shall go back and act as if you were at supper. At
three in the morning I will be in the wine-shop on the
left-hand side of the road. When you return, give a
gentle tap on the window-pane with the handle of your
whip.” Norbert sprang into the saddle, and sped away
through the darkness like a phantom of the night.
Jean had made an excellent choice in the horse he had
brought for his master's use, and the animal made its
way rapidly through the mud and rain; but Norbert by
this time was half mad with excitement, and spurred
him madly on. As he neared home a new idea crossed
his brain. Suppose it was a practical joke on the part
of some of the members of the club? In that case, they
would doubtless be watching for his arrival, and, after
talking to him on indifferent subjects, would, when he


176 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
-
-
- - -
betrayed any symptoms of impatience, overwhelm him
with ridicule. The fear of this made him cautious.
What should he do with the horse he was riding? The
wine-shops were open, and perhaps he might pick up
some man there who would take charge of it for him.
As he was debating this point, his eye fell upon a sol-
dier, probably on his way to barracks.
“My man,” asked the Duke, “would you like to
earn twenty francs?"
"I should think so, if it is nothing contrary to the
rules and regulations of the army.”
“ It is only to take my horse and walk him up and
down while I pay a visit close by.”
“I can stay out of barracks a couple of hours longer,
but no more," returned the soldier.
Norbert told the soldier where he was to wait for
him, and then went on rapidly to his own house, and
reached the side street along which ran the garden be-
longing to his magnificent residence. On the opposite
side of the street the houses all had porticoes, and Nor-
bert took up his position in one of these, and peered
out carefully. He had studied the whole street, which
was not a long one, from beginning to end, and was
convinced that he was the only person in it. He made
up his mind that he would wait until midnight; and if
by that time no one appeared, he would feel confident
that the Duchess was innocent, and return without any
one but Jean having known of his expedition. From
his position he could see that three windows on the
second floor of his house were lighted up, and those
windows were in his wife's sleeping apartment. “She
is the last woman in the world to permit a lover to
visit her,” thought he. “No, no; the whole thing is
a hoax.” He began to think of the way in which he


A STAB IN THE DARK
177
had treated his wife. Had he nothing to reproach him-
self with? Ten days after their marriage he had de-
serted her entirely; and if during the last few weeks
he had paid her any attention, it was because he was
acting in obedience to the whims of another woman.
Suppose a lover was with her now, what right had he
to interfere? The law gave him leave, but what did
his conscience say? He leaned against the chill stone
until he almost became as cold as it was. It seemed to
him at that moment that life and hope were rapidly
drifting away from him. He had lost all count of how
long he had been on guard. He pulled out his watch,
but it was too dark to distinguish the hands or the
figures on the dial-plate. A neighboring clock struck
the half-hour, but this gave him no clue as to the
time. He had almost made up his mind to leave, when
he heard the sound of a quick step coming down the
street. It was the light, quick step of a sportsnian,-
of a man more accustomed to the woods and fields than
the pavement and asphalt of Paris. Then a shadow
fell upon the opposite wall, and almost immediately
disappeared. Then Norbert knew that the door had
opened and closed, and that the man had entered the
garden. There could be no doubt upon this point, and
yet the Duke would have given worlds to be able to dis-
believe the evidence of his senses. It might be a burg-
lar, but burglars seldom work alone; or it might be a
visitor to one of the servants, but all the servants were
absent. He again raised his eyes to the windows of his
wife's room. All of a sudden the light grew brighter ;
either the lamp had been turned up, or fresh candles
lighted. Yes, it was a candle, for he saw it borne
across the room in the direction of the great staircase,
and now he saw that the anonymous letter had spoken


178
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
the truth, and that he was on the brink of a discovery.
A lover had entered the garden, and the lighted candle
was a signal to him. Norbert shuddered; the blood
seemed to course through his veins like streams of
molten fire, and the misty atmosphere that surrounded
him appeared to stifle him. He ran across the street,
forced the lock, and rushed wildly into the garden.
CHAPTER XVI.
HUSBAND AND LOVER.
The writer of the anonymous communication had
only known the secret too well, for the Duchess de
Champdoce was awaiting a visit that evening from
George de Croisenois; this was, however, the first
time. Step by step she had yielded, and at length had
fallen into the snare laid for her by the treacherous
woman whom she believed to be her truest friend. The
evening before this eventful night she had been alone
in Madame de Mussidan's drawing-room with George
de Croisenois. She had been impressed by his ardent
passion, and had listened with pleasure to his loving
entreaties.
half-past ten, to the little door in the garden wall; it
will only be kept closed by a stone being placed against
it inside; push it, and it will open; and when you have
entered the garden, acquaint me with your presence by
clapping your hands gently once or twice.”
Diana had, from a secure hiding-place, overheard
these words, and feeling certain that the Duchess
would repent her rash promise, she kept close to her
side until George's departure, to give her no chance of


HUSBAND AND LOVER
179
.
retracting her promise. The next day she was con-
stantly with her victim, and made an excuse for din-
ing with her, so as not to quit her until the hour for
the meeting had almost arrived.
It was not until she was left alone that the Duchess
saw the full extent of her folly and rashness. She was
terrified at the promise that she had given in a weak
moment, and would have given worlds had she been
able to retract.
There was yet, however, one means of safety left
her—she could hurry downstairs and secure the gar-
den gate. She started to her feet, determined to exe-
cute her project; but she was too late, for the appointed
signal was heard through the chill gloom of the night.
Unhappy woman! The light sound of George de
Croisenois' palms striking one upon the other re-
sounded in her ears like the dismal tolling of the fune-
real bell. She stooped to light a candle at the fire, but
her hand trembled so that she could scarcely effect her
object. She felt sure that George was still in the gar-
den, though she had made no answer to his signal.
She had never thought that he would have had the
audacity to open a door that led into the house from
the garden, but this is what he had done. In the most
innocent manner imaginable, and so that her listener in
no way suspected the special reason that she had for
making this communication, Diana de Mussidan had
informed George de Croisenois that upon this night all
the domestics of the Champdoce household would be
attending the coachman's wedding, and that conse-
quently the mansion would be deserted. George knew
also that the Duke was away at his training establish-
ment, and he therefore opened the door, and walked
boldly up the main staircase, so that when the Duchess,


180 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
with the lighted candle in her hand, came to the top
steps she found herself face to face with George de
Croisenois, pallid with emotion and quivering with ex-
citement.
At the sight of the man she loved she started back-
wards with a low cry of anguish and despair.
“Fly!” she said “Ay, or we are lost!”
He did not, however, seem to hear her, and the
Duchess recoiled slowly, step by step, through the open
door of her chamber, across the carpeted floor, until
she reached the opposite wall of her room, and could
go no farther.
George followed her, and pushed to the door of the
room as he entered it. This brief delay, however, had
sufficed to restore Marie to the full possession of her
senses. “If I permit him to speak,” thought she,—“ if
he once suspects that my love for him is still as strong
as ever, I am lost.”
Then she said aloud,
“You must leave this house, and that instantly. I
was mad when I said what I did yesterday. You are
too noble and too generous not to listen to me when I
tell you that the moment of infatuation is over, and
that all my reason has returned to me, and my openness
will convince you of the truth of what I sayo George
de Croisenois, I love you."
The young man uttered an exclamation of delight
upon hearing this news.
“Yes," continued Marie, “I would give half the
years of my remaining life to be your wife. Yes,
George, I love you; but the voice of duty speaks louder
than the whispers of the heart. I may die of grief, but
there will be no stain upon my marriage robe, no re-
morse eating out my heart. Farewell!”


HUSBAND AND LOVER
181
But the Marquis would not consent to this immedi-
ate dismissal, and appeared to be about to speak.
"Go!” said the Duchess, with an air of command.
“ Leave me at once!” Then, as he made no effort to
obey her, she went on, “If you really love me, let my
honor be as dear to you as your own, and never try to
see me again. The peril we are now in shows how nec-
essary this last determination of mine is. I am the
Duchess de Champdoce, and I will keep the name that
has been intrusted to me pure and unsullied, nor will I
stoop to treachery or deception.”
“Why do you use the word deception ?” asked he.
"I do, it is true, despise the woman who smiles upon
the husband she is betraying, but I respect and honor
the woman who risks all to follow the fortunes of the
man she loves. Lay aside, Marie, name, title, fortune,
and fly with me.”
"I love you too much, George," answered she
gently, “ to ruin your future, for the day would surely
come when you would regret all your self-denial, for a
woman weighed down with a sense of her dishonor is
a heavy burden for a man to bear.”
George de Croisenois did not understand her thor-
oughly
“You do not trust me," said he. “You would
be dishonored. Shall I not share a portion of the
world's censure ? And, if you wish me, I will be a
dishonored man also. To-night I will cheat at play at
the club, be detected, and leave the room an outcast
from the society of all honorable men for the future.
Fly with me to some distant land, and we will live hap-
pily under whatever name you may choose.”
"I must not listen to you,” cried she wildly. “ It is
impossible now.”


182
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“Impossible !—and why? Tell me, I entreat you."
“Ah, George,” sobbed she, “ if you only knew- "
He placed his arm around her waist, and was about
to press his lips on that fair brow, when all at once he
felt Marie shiver in his clasp, and, raising one of her
arms, point towards the door, which had opened
silently during their conversation, and upon the thresh-
old of which stood Norbert de Champdoce, gloomy and
threatening
The Marquis saw in an instant the terrible position
in which his insensate folly had placed the woman he
loved.
"Do not come any nearer,” said he, addressing Nor-
bert; “remain where you are."
A bitter laugh from the Duke made him realize the
folly of his command. He supported the Duchess to a
couch, and seated her upon it. She recovered con-
sciousness almost immediately, and, as she opened her
eyes, George read in them the most perfect forgiveness
for the man who had ruined her life and hopes.
This look, and the fond assurance conveyed in it, re-
stored all George's coolness and self-possession, and he
turned towards Norbert.
“However compromising appearances may seem, I
am the only one deserving punishment; the Duchess
has nothing to reproach herself with in any way; it was
without her knowledge, and without any encourage-
ment from her, that I dared to enter this house, know-
ing as I did that the servants were all absent.”
Norbert, however, still maintained the same gloomy
silence. He too had need to collect his thoughts. As
he ascended the stairs he knew that he should find the
Duchess with a lover, but he had not calculated upon
that lover being George de Croisenois, a man whom he


HUSBAND AND LOVER 183
loathed and detested more than any one that he was
in the habit of meeting in society. When he recog-
nized George, it was with the utmost difficulty that
he restrained himself from springing upon him and
endeavoring to strangle him. He had suspected this
man of having gained Diana's affections, and now he
found him in the character of the lover of his wife, and
he was silent simply because he had not yet made up
his mind what he would say. If his face was out-
wardly calm and rigid as marble, while the flames of
hell were raging in his heart, it was because his limbs
for the moment refused to obey his will; but, in spite
of this, Norbert was, for the time, literally insane.
Croisenois folded his arms, and continued, -
“I had only just come here at the moment of your
arrival. Why were you not here to listen to all that
passed between us? Would to heaven that you had
been! then you would have understood all the grandeur
and nobility of your wife's soul. I admit the magni-
tude of my fault, but I am at your service, and am
prepared to give you the satisfaction that you will
doubtless demand.”
“From your words,” answered Norbert slowly, “I
presume that you allude to a duel; that is to say, that
having effected my dishonor to-night, you purpose to
kill me to-morrow morning. In the game that you
have been playing a man stakes his life, and you, I
think, have lost.”
Croisenois bowed. “I am a dead man,” thought he
as he glanced towards the Duchess," and not for your
sake, but on account of quite another woman.”
The sound of his own voice excited Norbert, and he
went on more rapidly: “What need have I to risk my
life in a duel? I come to my own home, I find you


HUSBAND AND LOVER
185
ordinary duel, in the light of day, with seconds to regu-
late the manner of our conduct." .
“We will fight exactly as you wish.”
“In that case, I name swords as the weapons, the
garden as the spot, and this instant as the hour.”
The Marquis cast a glance at the window.
“ You think,” observed Norbert, comprehending his
look, “ that the night is so dark that we cannot see the
blades of our swords?”
“Quite so.”
“You need not fear; there will be light enough for
the death struggle of the one who remains in the gar-
den, for you understand that one will remain.”
“I understand you; shall we go down at once?”
Norbert shook his head in the negative.
“You are in too great a hurry,” said he, “and have
not given me the time to fix my conditions.”
"I am listening."
“At the end of the garden there is a small plot of
ground, so damp that nothing will grow there, and
consequently is almost unfrequented; but for all that
it is thither that you must follow me. We will each
take spade and pick-axe, and in a very brief period
we can hollow out a receptacle for the body of the
one who falls. When this work is completed, we will
take to our swords and fight to the death, and the one
who can keep his feet shall finish his fallen adver-
sary, drag his body to the hole, and shovel the earth
over his remains.”
“Never !” exclaimed Croisenois. “Never will I
agree to such barbarous terms.”
“ Have a care then,” returned Norbert; "for I shall
use my rights. That clock points to five minutes to


186 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
eleven. If, when it strikes, you have not decided
to accept my terms, I shall fire.”
The barrel of the revolver was but a few inches
from George de Croisenois' heart, and the finger of
his most inveterate enemy was curved round the trig-
ger; but his feelings had been so highly wrought up
that he thought not of this danger. He only remem-
bered that he had four minutes in which to make up
his mind. The events of the last thirty minutes had
pressed upon each other's heels with such surprising
alacrity that he could hardly believe that they had
really occurred, and it seemed to him as if it might
not, after all, be only a hideous vision of the
night.
“You have only two minutes more,” remarked the
Duke.
Croisenois started; his soul was far away from the
terrible present. He glanced at the clock, then at his
enemy, and lastly at Marie, who lay upon the couch,
and from her ashen complexion might have been re-
garded as dead, save for the hysterical sobs which con-
vulsed her frame. He felt that it was impossible to
leave her in such a condition without aid of any kind,
but he saw well that any show of pity on his part
would only aggravate his offence. “Heaven have
mercy on us!” muttered he. “We are at the mercy
of a maniac," and with a feeling of deadly fear he
asked himself what would be the fate of this woman,
whom he loved so devotedly, were he to die. “For
her sake,” he thought, “I must slay this man, or her
life will be one endless existence of torture—and slay
him I will.”
“I accept your terms,” said he aloud.
He spoke just in time, for as the words were ut-


HUSBAND AND LOVER
187
tered came the whirr of the machinery and then the
first clear stroke of the bell.
“I thank you,” answered Norbert coldly as he low-
ered the muzzle of his revolver.
The icy frigidity of manner in a period of extreme
danger, which is the marked characteristic of a cer-
tain type of education, had now vanished from the
Marquis's tone and behavior.
“ But that is not all,” he continued; “I, too, have
certain conditions to propose.”
“But we agreed ”
“Let me explain: we are going to fight in the
dark in your garden without seconds. We are to dig
a grave and the survivor is to bury his dead antag-
onist. Tell me, am I right?”.
Norbert bowed.
“But,” went on the Marquis, “how can you be
certain that all will end here, and that the earth will
be content to retain our secret? You do not know,
and you do not seem to care, that if one day the se-
cret should be disclosed and the survivor accused of
being the murderer of the other, arrested, dragged
before a tribunal, condemned, and sent to a life-long
prison "
“ There is a chance of that, of course.”
“And do you think that I will consent to run such a
risk as that?”
“There is such a risk, of course," answered Nor-
bert phlegmatically; “but that will be an incentive for
you to conceal my death as I should conceal yours.”
“ That will not be sufficient for me," returned De
Croisenois.
"Ah! take care," sneered Norbert, “or I shall be-
gin to think that you are afraid.”


188 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“I am afraid ; that is, afraid of being called a mur-
derer.”
“That is a danger to which I am equally liable
with yourself.”
Croisenois, however, was fully determined to carry
his point. “ You say,” continued he, “ that our chances
are equal; but if I fall, who would dream of searching
here for my remains ? You are in your own house
and can take every precaution; but suppose, on the
other hand, I kill you. Shall I look to the Duchess to
assist me? Will not the finger of suspicion be pointed
at her? Shall she say to her gardener when all Paris
is hunting for you, ‘Mind that you do not meddle
with the piece of land at the end of the garden.'”.
The thought of the anonymous letter crossed Nor-
bert's mind, and he remembered that the writer of it
must be acquainted with the coming of George de
Croisenois. “What do you propose then?” asked he.
“Merely that each of us, without stating the
grounds of our quarrel, write down the conditions
and sign our names as having accepted them.”
“I agree; but use dispatch."
The two men, after the conditions had been sub-
scribed, wrote two letters, dated from a foreign coun-
try, and the survivor of the combat was to post his
dead adversary's letter, which would not fail to stop
any search after the vanished man. When this talk
was concluded, Norbert rose to his feet.
“ One word in conclusion,” said he: “a soldier is
leading the horse on which I rode here up and down in
the Place des Invalides. If you kill me, go and take
the horse from the man, giving him the twenty francs
I promised him.”
“I will."


BLADE TO BLADE
189
“Now let us go down.”
They left the room together. Norbert was step-
ping aside to permit Croisenois to descend the stairs
first, when he felt his coat gently pulled, and, turn-
ing round, saw that the Duchess, too weak to rise to
her feet, had crawled to him on her knees. The un-
happy woman had heard everything, and in an almost
inaudible voice she uttered an agonized prayer:
“Mercy, Norbert! have mercy! I swear to you
that I am guiltless. You never loved me; why should
you fight for me? Have pity! To-morrow, by all
that I hold sacred, I swear to you that I will enter a
convent, and you shall never see my face again. Have
pity!”
"Pray heaven, madame, that it may be your lover's
sword that pierces my heart. It is your only hope, for
then you will be free.”
He tore his coat from her fingers with brutal violence,
and the unhappy woman fell to the floor with a shriek
as he closed the door upon her, and followed his an-
tagonist downstairs.
CHAPTER XVII.
BLADE TO BLADE.
SEVERAL times in the course of this interview Nor-
bert de Champdoce had been on the point of burst-
ing into a furious passion, but he restrained himself
from a motive of self-pride; but now that his wife
was no longer present, he showed a savage intensity
of purpose and a deadly earnestness that was abso-


BLADE TO BLADE
191
hour a light in the garden is sure to attract atten-
tion,” observed George.
“Don't be afraid; my grounds are not over-
looked.”
They entered the garden, and soon reached the spot
to which the Duke had alluded. Norbert hung the
lantern on the bough of a tree, and it gave the same
amount of light as an ordinary street lamp.
“We will dig the grave in that corner," observed
he; “and when it is filled in, we can cover it with
that heap of stones over there."
He threw off his great coat, and, handing a spade to
Croisenois, took another himself, repeating firmly the
words,
“To work! to work!”
Croisenois would have toiled all night before he
could have completed the task, but the muscles of the
Duke were hardened by his former laborious life,
and in forty minutes all was ready.
“That will do,” said Norbert, exchanging his spade
for a sword. “Take your guard."
Croisenois, however, did not immediately obey.
Impressible by nature, he felt a cold shiver run through
his frame; the dark night, the flickering lantern, and
all these preparations, made in so cold blooded a man-
ner, affected his nerves. The grave, with its yawn-
ing mouth, fascinated him.
“Well,” said Norbert impatiently, “are you not
ready ?”
"I will speak,” exclaimed De Croisenois, driven
to desperation. “In a few minutes one of us two will
be lying dead on this spot. In the presence of death
a man's words are to be relied on. Listen to me. I


BLADE TO BLADE
193
sigh, and then silence George de Croisenois was
dead.
Yes, he was dead, and Norbert de Champdoce stood
over him with a wild look of terror in his eyes, and his
hair bristling upon his head, as a shudder of horror
convulsed his body. Then, for the first time, he real-
ized the horror of seeing a man slain by his own hand;
and yet what affected Norbert most was not that
he had killed George de Croisenois—for he believed
that justice was on his side and that he could not have
acted otherwise—but the perspiration stood in thick
beads upon his forehead, as he thought that he must
raise up that still warm and quivering body, and
place it in its unhallowed grave.
He hesitated and reasoned with himself for some
time, going over all the reasons that made dispatch
so absolutely necessary—the risk of detection, and
the honor of his name.
He stooped and prepared to raise it, but recoiled
again before his hands had touched the body. His
heart failed him, and once more he assumed an erect
position. At last he nerved himself, grasped the body,
and, with an immense exertion of strength, hurled it
into the gaping grave. It fell with a dull, heavy
sound which seemed to Norbert like the roar of an
earthquake. The violent emotions which he had en-
dured had ended by acting on his brain, and, snatch-
ing up the spade which his late antagonist had used
with so unpracticed a hand, shovelled the earth upon
the body, flattened down the ground, and finally cov-
ered it with straw and dead leaves.
"And this is the end of a man who wronged a
Champdoce; yes, his life has paid the penalty of his
deed.”


THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
All at once, a few paces off, in the deep shadow
of the trees, he thought that he detected the outline
of a human head with a pair of glittering eyes fixed
upon him. The shock was so terrible that for an in-
stant he stopped and nearly fell, but he quickly re-
covered himself, and, snatching up his blood-stained
sword, he dashed to the spot where he fancied he had
seen this terrible witness of his deed.
At this rapid movement on the part of the Duke,
a figure started up with a faint cry for mercy. It
was a woman.
She fled with inconceivable swiftness towards the
house, but he caught her just as she had gained the
steps.
“Have mercy on me!” cried she. “Do not murder
me!”
He dragged her back to where the lantern was
hanging. She was a girl of about eighteen years of
age, ugly, badly clothed, and dirty looking. Nor-
bert looked earnestly at her, but could not say who
she was, though he was certain that he had seen her
face somewhere.
“ Who are you?” asked he.
She burst into a flood of tears, but made no other
reply.
“ Come,” resumed he, in more soothing accents;
"you shall not be hurt. Tell me who you are.”
“ Caroline Schimmel.”
“ Caroline ?” repeated he.
“Yes. I have been in your service as scullery
maid for the last three months.”
“How is it that you did not go to the wedding
with the rest of them?”
“ It was not my fault. I was asked, and I did so



AT LAST HE NERVED HIMSELF, GRASPED THE BODY, AND HURLED IT
INTO THE GAPING GRAVE


--


BLADE TO BLADE
195
long to go, but I was too shabby; I had no finery to
put on. I am very poor now, for I have only fifteen
francs a month, and none of the other maids would
lend me anything to wear.”
“How did you come into the garden?” asked Nor-
bert.
“I was very miserable, and was sitting in the gar-
ret crying, when I suddenly saw a light down there.
I thought it was theirs, and crept down the back
stairs."
“And what did you see?”
“I saw it all.”
“All what?”
“When I got down here, you and the other were
digging. I thought you were looking for money!
but ah, dear me! I was wrong. Then the other be-
gan to say something, but I couldn't catch a word;
then you fought. Oh, it was awful! I was so fright-
ened, I could not take my eyes off you. Then the
other fell down on his back.”
“And then?”
“Then,” she faltered, “ you buried him, and then
__"
“ Could you recognize this—this other?”
“Yes, my lord duke, I did.”
“ Had you ever seen him before? Do you know
who he was?”
“No."
“Listen to me, my girl. If you know how to hold
your tongue, if you can forget all you have seen to-
night, it will be the greatest piece of luck for you
in the world that you did not go to this wedding.”
"I won't open my lips to a soul, my lord duke.
Hear me swear, I won't. Oh, do believe me!”


196
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“ Very well; keep your oath, and your fortune is
made. To-morrow I will give you a fine, large sum
of money, and you can go back to your village and
marry some honest fellow to whom you have taken a
fancy."
" Are you not making game of me?"
“No; go to your room and go to bed, as if nothing
had happened. Jean will tell you what to do to-mor-
row, and you must obey him as you would me.”
“Oh, my lord! oh, my lord duke!”
Unable to contain her delight, she mingled her
laughter and her tears.
And Norbert knew that his name, his honor, and
perhaps his life were in the hands of a wretched girl
like this. All the peace and happiness of his life were
gone, and he felt like some unhappy prisoner who
through the bars of his dungeon sees his jailer's chil-
dren sporting with lighted matches and a barrel of
gunpowder. He was at her mercy, for well he knew
that it would resolve into this—that the smallest wish
of this girl would become an imperative command
that he dared not disobey. However absurd might be
her whims and caprices, she had but to express them,
and he dared not resist. What means could he adopt
to free himself from this odious state of servitude ?
He knew but of one—the dead tell no tales. There
were four persons who were the sharers of Norbert's
secret. First, the writer of the anonymous letter;
then the Duchess; then Caroline Schimmel; and, fi-
nally, Jean, to whom he must confide all. With these
thoughts ringing through his brain, Norbert carefully
effaced the last traces of the duel, and then bent his
steps towards his wife's chamber.
He had expected to find her still unconscious on the


BLADE TO BLADE
197
spot where he had left her lying. Marie was seated
in an armchair by the side of the fire; her face was
terribly pale, and her eyes sparkling with the inward
flame that consumed her.
" My honor has been vindicated; the Marquis de
Croisenois is no more; I have slain your lover, ma-
dame.”
Marie did not start; she had evidently prepared
herself for this blow. Her face assumed a more
proud and disdainful expression, and the light in her
dark eyes grew brighter and brighter.
“You are wrong," said she, “M. de Croisenois
was not my lover.”
“You need no longer take the pains to lie; I ask
nothing now.”
Marie's utter calmness jarred inexpressibly upon
Norbert's exasperated frame of mind. He would
have given much to change this mood of hers, which
he could not at all understand. But in vain did he
say the most cutting things, and coupled them with
bitter taunts, for she had reached a pitch of exalta-
tion far above his sarcasms and abuse.
“I am not lying," answered she frigidly. “What
should I gain by it? What more have I to gain in
this world? You desire to learn the truth; here it is
then: It was with my knowledge and permission that
George was here to-night. He came because I had
asked him to do so, and I left the gate in the garden
wall open, so as to facilitate his entrance. He had
not been more than five minutes in your room when
you arrived, and he had never been there before. It
would have been easy for me to have left you; but
as I bear your name, I could not dishonor it. As you
entered, he was entreating me to fly with him; both his


198
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
life and his honor were in my hands. Ah, why did
I pause for an instant ? Had I consented, he would
still have been alive, and in some far distant country
he and I might have learned that this world has some-
thing more to offer than unhappiness and misery.
Yes, as you will have it, you shall have all. I loved
him ere I knew that you even existed. I have only
my own folly to blame, only my own unhappy weak-
ness to deplore. Why did I not steadily refuse to be-
come your wife? You say that you have slain
George. Not so, for in my heart his memory will
ever remain bright and ineffaceable.”
“ Beware!” said Norbert furiously, “ beware if
“Ah, would you kill me, too? Do not fear resist-
ance; my life is a blank without him. He is dead; let
death come to me; it would be a welcome visitant.
The only kindness that you could now bestow upon
me would be my death-blow. Strike then, and end
it all! In death we should be united, George and I;
and as my limbs grew stiff and my breath passed away,
my whitening lips would murmur words of thanks.”
Norbert listened to her, overwhelmed by the inten-
sity of her passion, and marvelling that he had any
power to feel after the terrible event which had fallen
upon his devoted head.
Could this be Marie, the soft and gentle woman,
who spoke with such passionate vehemence and boldly
braved his anger? How could he have so misunder-
stood her? He forgot all his anger in his admira-
tion. She seemed to him to have undergone a com-
plete change. There was an unearthly style of beauty
around her—her eyes blazed and shone with the lurid
light of a far-distant planet, while her wealth of raven


BLADE TO BLADE
199
blindly.
t adoraussidan,
hair fell in disordered masses on her shoulders. It
was passion, real passion, that he beheld to-night, not
that mere empty delusion which he had so long fol-
lowed blindly. Marie was really capable of a deep-
rooted feeling of adoration for the man she loved,
while with Diana de Mussidan, the woman with the
fair hair and the steel-blue eyes, love was but the lust
of conquest, or the desire to jeer at a suitor's earnest-
ness. Ah, what a revelation had been made to him
now! and what would he not have given to have
wiped out the past! He advanced towards her with
outstretched arms.
“Marie!” said he, “ Marie!”
"I forbid you to call me Marie!” shrieked she
wildly.
He made no reply, but still advanced towards her,
when, with a terrible cry, she recoiled from him.
“ Blood !” she screamed,“ ah, heavens! he has blood
upon his hands !”
Norbert glanced downwards; upon the wristband
of his shirt there was a tell-tale crimson stain.
The Duchess raised her hand, and pointed towards
the door.
“Leave me," said she, with an extraordinary as-
sumption of energy, “ leave me; the secret of your
crime is safe; I will not betray you or hand you over
to justice. But remember that a murdered man
stands between us, and that I loathe and execrate
you."
Rage and jealousy tortured Norbert's soul. Though
George de Croisenois was no more, he was still his
successful rival in Marie's love.
“You forget,” said he in a voice hoarse with pas-
sion, " that you are mine, and that, as your husband,


200
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
I can make your existence one long scene of agony
and misery. Keep this fact in your memory. To-
morrow, at six o'clock, I shall be here."
The clock was striking two as he left the house
and hastened to the spot where he had left his
horse.
The soldier was still pacing backwards and for-
wards, leading the Duke's horse.
“My faith!” said the man, as soon as he perceived
Norbert, “ you pay precious long visits. I had only
leave to go to the theatre, and I shall get into trouble
over this.”
“Pshaw! I promised you twenty francs. Here are
two louis."
The soldier pocketed the money with an air of de-
lighted surprise, and Norbert sprang into the saddle.
An hour later he gave the appointed signal upon
the window pane, behind which the trusty Jean was
waiting.
“Take care that no one sees you as you take the
horse to the stable,” said the Duke hastily," and then
come to me, for I want your assistance and advice.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE HEIR OF CHAMPDOCE.
As long as she was in Norbert's presence, anger
and indignation gave the Duchess de Champdoce
strength; but as soon as she was left alone her energy
gave way, and with an outburst of tears she sank,
half fainting, upon a couch. Her despair was aug-
mented from the fact that she felt that had it not


THE HEIR OF CHAMPDOCE 201
been for her, George de Croisenois would never have
met with his death.
“Had I not made that fatal appointment,” she
sobbed," he would be alive and well now; my love
has slain him as surely as if my hand had held the
steel that has pierced his heart!”.
She at first thought of seeking refuge with her
father, but abandoned the idea almost immediately,
for she felt that he would refuse to enter into her
grievance, or would say, “ You are a duchess; you
have an enormous fortune. You must be happy; and
if you are not, it must be your own fault.”
In terrible anguish the night passed away; and when
her maids entered the room, they found her lying on
the floor, dressed as she had been the night before.
No one knew what to do, and messengers were dis-
patched in all directions to summon medical advice.
Norbert's return was eagerly welcomed by the terri-
fied domestics, and a general feeling of relief per-
vaded the establishment.
The Duke had grown very uneasy as to what might
have happened during his absence. He questioned
the servants as diplomatically as he could; and while
he was thus engaged, the doctors who had been sum-
moned arrived.
After seeing their patient, they did not for a mo-
ment conceal their opinion that the case was a very
serious one, and that it was possible that she might not
survive this mysterious seizure. They impressed upon
Norbert the necessity of the Duchess being kept per-
fectly quiet and never left alone, and then departed,
promising to call again in the afternoon.
Their injunctions were unnecessary, for Norbert
had established himself by his wife's bedside, resolved


THE HEIR OF CHAMPDOCE 203
Norbert heaved a deep sigh of relief, for the
thought of Caroline Schimmel had laid like a heavy
burden upon his heart.
“And how about the other matter?” asked he.
The old man shook his head.
“What has been done?”
“I have got hold of a young fellow who believes
that I wish to send him to Egypt, to purchase cot-
ton. He will start to-morrow, and will post the two
letters written by the Marquis de Croisenois, one at
Marseilles, and the other at Cairo."
“Do you not think that these letters will insure
my perfect security?”.
"I see that any indiscretion on our agent's part,
or a mere act of carelessness, may ruin us.”
“And yet it must be done.”
After consulting together, the doctors had given
some slight hope, but the position of the patient was
still very precarious. It was suggested that her in-
tellect might be permanently affected; and during all
these long and anxious hours Norbert did not even
dare to close his eyes, and it was with feelings of
secret terror that he permitted the maids to perform
their duties around their invalid mistress.
Upon the fourth day the fever took a favorable
turn, and Marie slept, giving Norbert time to review
his position.
How was it that Madame de Mussidan, who was a
daily visitor, had not appeared at the house since that
eventful night? He was so much surprised at this
that he ventured to dispatch a short note, acquainting
her of the sudden illness of his wife.
In an hour he received a reply, merely containing
these words:


204
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“ Can you account for M. de Mussidan's sudden de-
termination to spend the winter in Italy? We leave
this evening. Farewell.—D.”
And so she, too, had abandoned him, taking with her
all the hopes he had in the world. Still, however, his
infatuation held its sway over him, and he forced
himself to believe that she felt this separation as keenly
as he did.
Some five days afterwards, when the Duchess de
Champdoce had been pronounced out of immediate
danger, one of the doctors took him mysteriously
aside. He said that he wanted to inform the Duke
of a startling, but he hoped a welcome piece of intelli-
gence—that the Duchess de Champdoce was in the
way to present the Duke with an heir to his title and
estates.
It was the knowledge of this that had decided her
not to leave her husband's roof, and had steeled her
heart against George's entreaties. She had hesitated,
and had almost yielded to the feelings of her heart,
when this thought troubled her.
Unfortunately for herself, she had not disclosed her
condition to her husband, and, at the news, all Nor-
bert's former suspicions revived, and his wrath rose
once more to an extraordinary height. His lips grew
pale, and his eyes blazed with fury.
“ Thank you, doctor!" exclaimed he. “Of course,
the news is very welcome. Good-by. I must go to
the Duchess at once."
Instead of going to his wife, Norbert went and
locked himself up in his own private apartment. He
had need to be alone, in order to look this fresh com-
plication more fully in the face, and the more he re-
flected, the more convinced was he that he had been


206
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
How could he ever bear to bring it up as if it were his
own? He had thought over many plans, but always
trusted to the first one he had conceived. This was
to procure an infant, it mattered not where or by
what means, and substitute it for the new-born child
of his wife. As time rolled on, he became more im-
bued with this idea, and at length he summoned Jean
to him, that faithful old man, who served his master
so truly out of affection to the house of Champdoce.
For the first time Jean raised an objection to his
master's proposal, declaring that such an act would
bring shame and misery upon all concerned in it;
but when he found that Norbert was determined, and
that, if he refused, his master would employ some less
scrupulous agent, he, with tears in his eyes and a
tremor in his voice, promised obedience.
About a month later, Jean came to his master and
suggested that it would be best the accouchement of
the Duchess should take place at a château belonging
to the Champdoce family near Montroire, and that
this once done, he, Jean, would arrange everything.
The removal was effected almost at once, and the Duch-
ess, who was a mere shadow of her former self, made
no opposition. She and Norbert lived together as
perfect strangers. Sometimes a week would elapse
without their meeting; and if they had occasion to
communicate, it was done by letter.
The estate to which Norbert had conducted the
Duchess was admirably adapted for his purpose. The
unhappy woman was entirely alone in the world, and
had no one to whom she could apply for protection or
advice. Her father, the Count de Puymandour, had
died suddenly a month before, owing to chagrin
caused by his defeat when a candidate for a seat in
-
-
-


208 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
of the man who had collected these facts together,
were mingled, and Catenac was the first who spoke.
The sound of his own voice seemed gradually to dis-
pel the vague sense of apprehension that hung about
the office.
“Aha!” cried he, “I always said that our old
friend Mascarin would make his mark in literature.
As soon as his pen touches the paper the business
man vanishes; we have no longer a collection of dry
facts and proofs, but the stirring pages of a sensational
novel.”
“Do you really consider that as a mere romance?”
asked Hortebise.
“It reads like one certainly; you must allow that."
“ Catenac,” remarked Mascarin in his bitterly sar-
castic tone, “is best able to pronounce upon the truth
or falsehood of this narrative, as he is the professional
adviser of this same Duke de Champdoce, the very
Norbert whose life has just been read to you."
"I do not deny that there is some slight foundation
to it,” returned the lawyer.
“Then what is it that you do deny ?”
“Nothing, nothing; I merely objected, more in jest
than otherwise, to the sentimental manner in which
you have set forward your case.”
“ Catenac,” remarked Mascarin, addressing the
others, “has received many confidential communica-
tions from his noble client, which he has not thought
fit to communicate to us; and though he fancied that
we were drifting into quicksands and among break-
ers, he displayed no signal of warning to save us from
our danger, hoping, like a true friend, that, by this
means, he might get rid of us.”


MASCARIN SPEAKS
209
Catenac began to utter protestations and denials,
but Mascarin cut him short with an imperative ges-
ture, and, after a long pause, he again commenced,
“ You must understand that my inquisitors have had
but little to do in this affair, for my work has chiefly
consisted in putting fragments together. It is not to
me that you are indebted for the sensational (I think
that that was the term used) part of my story, but
rather to Madame de Mussidan and Norbert de
Champdoce. I am sure that some of the phrases must
have struck you considerably.”
“It seems to me," objected Catenac-
"Perhaps,” broke in Mascarin, “ you have for-
gotten the correspondence which the Countess de Mus-
sidan preserved so carefully—both his letters and her
own, which Norbert returned to her."
“ And have we those?”
“Of course we have, only there is a perfect romance
contained in these letters. What I have read is a mere
bald extract from them; and this is not all. The man
who assisted me in the unravelling of this dark in-
trigue was the original promoter-Daumon.”
“What, is the Counsellor still alive?”
"Certainly, and you know him. He is not quite in
his first youth, and has aged somewhat, but his intel-
lect is as brilliant as ever.”
said he.
"I can tell you even more. I can tell you that the
account of the deed was written under the dictation
of Caroline Schimmel,” broke in Mascarin. “This
unlucky woman started for Havre, intending to sail


MASCARIN SPEAKS : 211
for at the time of his disappearance, Croisenois had
about him several Spanish doubloons, a fact which
was given to the police."
"Well,” said Catenac, “I will act faithfully. Tell
me your plans, and I will let you know all that I
hear from the Duke.”
For a moment a smile hovered upon Mascarin's lips,
for this time he placed firm reliance upon the good
faith of the lawyer.
“Before we go further,” said he,“ let me conclude
this narrative which Paul has just read. It is sad and
simple. The united ages of the Duke and Duchess
did not exceed fifty years; they had unlimited wealth,
and bore one of the grandest historic names of France;
they were surrounded with every appliance of luxury,
and yet their lives were a perfect wreck. They simply
dragged on an existence and had lost all hopes of
happiness, but they made up their minds to conceal the
skeleton of their house in the darkest cupboard, and
the world knew nothing of their inner life. The
Duchess suffered much in health, and merely went out
to visit the sick and poor. The Duke worked hard to
make up for the deficiencies of his early education, and
made a name and reputation throughout Europe.”
“And how about Madame de Mussidan?” asked
Catenac.
“I am coming to that,” returned Mascarin. “With
that strange determination that fills the hearts of our
women, she did not consider her revenge complete
until Norbert learned that she was the sole instrument
in heaping the crowning sorrow of his life on his head;
and on her return from Italy, she sent for him and
told him everything. Yes, she absolutely had the au-
dacity to tell him that it was she who had done her


212 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
best to throw his wife into De Croisenois' arms. She
told him that it was she who had worked the arrange-
ments for the meeting, and had written the anonymous
letter.”
“Why did he not kill her?” cried Hortebise. “Had
she not all his letters, and taunted him with the pro
duction of them? Ah, my dear friends, do not let us
flatter ourselves that we have the sole monopoly of
blackmailing. This high-born Countess plunged her
hand into the Duke's coffers just as if she had been
a mere adventuress. It is only ten days ago that she
borrowed—you will observe the entry of it as a loan-
a large sum to settle an account of Van Klopen's.
But let us now speak of the child who took the place
of the boy whom the Duchess brought into the world.
You know him, doctor?”
“Yes, I have often seen him. He was a good-look-
ing young fellow."
“He was, but he was a degraded scoundrel, after
all. He was educated and brought up without regard
to expense, but he always displayed low tastes, and,
had he lived, would have brought discredit on the
name he bore. He was a thorn in the side of the Duke
and Duchess, and I believe that they felt great relief
when he died of brain fever, brought on by a drunken
debauch. His parents, or those whom he supposed to
be such, were present at his death-bed, for they had
learned to consider their sorrows as the just chastise-
ment of heaven. The boy having died, the family of
Champdoce seemed likely to become extinct, and then
it was that Norbert decided to do what his wife had
long urged upon him, to seek for and reclaim the child
which he had caused to be placed in the Foundling
Hospital at Vendôme. It went against his pride to


213
diverge from the course he had determined on as best,
but doubts had arisen in his mind as to his wife's
guilt, and Diana's confessions had reassured him as
to the paternity of the missing boy. It was thus with
hope in his heart, and furnished with every necessary
document, that he started for Vendôme; but there a
terrible disappointment awaited him. The authorities
of the hospital, on consulting the register, found
that a child had been admitted on the day and hour
mentioned by Norbert, and that his description of the
infant's clothing tallied exactly with the entries. But
the child was no longer in the hospital, and there was
twelve, been apprenticed to a tanner, but he had run
away from his master, and the most active and ener-
getic search had failed to arrest the fugitive."
Catenac listened to all these exact details with an
unpleasant feeling gnawing at his heart, for he saw
that his associates knew everything, and he had relied
upon again securing their confidence by furnishing
them with those details which were evidently already
known to them. Mascarin, however, affected not to
notice his surprise, and went on with his narrative.
“ This terrible disappointment will certainly kill the
Duke de Champdoce. It seemed to him that after
having so bitterly expiated the crimes and follies of
his youth, he might hope to have his old age in peace
and quiet, with a son who might cheer the loneliness
he appeared before the Duchess, who had been ex-
pecting his return in an agony of anguish and sus-
pense, told her at once that all hope had fled. In a
few days, however, the Duke had perfectly recovered
from the shock, and had decided that to give up the


214
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
search would be an act of madness. The world is
wide, and a friendless boy, without a name, difficult
to trace; but, with ample funds, almost anything can
be done, and he was willing to sacrifice both life and
fortune to attain his object. So immense were his re-
sources, that it was easy for him to employ the most
skilful detectives; and whatever the result might be,
he had come to look upon this task as a sacred duty
to which he ought to devote all the remaining years
of his life. He swore that he would never rest or
cease from his search until he had been furnished with
the indisputable proofs of the existence or the death
of his son. He did not confide all this project to the
Duchess; for he feared—and he had by this time
learned to have some consideration for her enfeebled
frame—her health had given way so completely that
any extra degree of excitement might prove fatal to
her. He, therefore, as a preliminary, applied to that
element which in the Rue de Jérusalem acts as the
terrestrial guardians of society. But the police could
do nothing for the Duke. They heard what he had
to say gravely, took notes, told him to call again later
on, and there was an end to their proceedings. It
can easily be understood that the rank and position of
the Duke prevented him from making his name known
in his inquiries; and as he dared not divulge the whole
truth, he gave such a bald version of the case, that
it excited no deep feelings of interest. At last he was
sent to a certain M. Lecoq.”
To Paul's utter astonishment, the name produced a
sudden and terrible effect upon Doctor Hortebise, who
started to his feet as if propelled from his chair by
the unexpected application of some hidden motive
power, and, fingering the locket that hung from his


MASCARIN SPEAKS
215
chain, gazed round upon his associates with wild and
excited eyes.
“Stop!” cried he. “If that fellow Lecoq is to put
his nose into your case, I withdraw ; I will have noth-
ing to do with it, for it is certain to be a failure."
He appeared to be so thoroughly frightened, that
Catenac condescended to smile.
“Yes, yes,” said he, “I can understand your alarm;
but be at ease; Lecoq has nothing to do with us."
But Hortebise was not satisfied with Catenac's as-
surance, and looked for confirmation from Mascarin.
“ Lecoq has nothing to do with us,” repeated his
friend. “The fool said that his position prevented
him from giving his time to any investigation of a
private nature, which, by the way, is quite true. The
Duke offered him a heavy sum to throw up his ap-
pointment, but he refused, saying he did not work for
money, but from love for his profession."
“Which is quite true," interrupted Catenac.
“However,” continued Mascarin, “ to cut short my
narrative, the Duke, on the refusal of Lecoq to act,
applied to Catenac.”
“Yes,” answered the lawyer, "and the Duke has
placed the conduct of the search in my hands.”
“Have you formed any plan of action?”
“Not at present. The Duke said, ' Ask every living
soul in the world, if you can succeed in no other way’;
this is all the instruction he has given me; and," added
he, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “I am almost
of Perpignan's opinion, that the search will be a fruit-
less one.”
" Lecoq did not think so.”
“He only said that he believed he should succeed
if he were to take it in hand.”


216
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
"Well,” answered Mascarin coldly, “I have been
certain of success from the very commencement.”
“Have you been to Vendôme ?” asked Catenac.
“Never mind, I have been somewhere, and at this
very moment could place my hand upon the shoulder
of the heir to the dukedom of Champdoce.”
“Are you in earnest?”
"I was never more in earnest in my life. I have
found him; only as it is impossible for me to appear
in the matter, I shall delegate to you and Perpignan
the happiness of restoring the lost son to his father's
arms."
Catenac glanced from Mascarin to Hortebise, and
from them to Paul, and seemed to wish to be certain
that he was not being made an object of ridicule.
“And why do you not wish to appear in the mat-
ter?” asked he at last, in a suspicious tone of voice.
“Do you foresee some risk, and want me to bear the
brunt?”
Mascarin shrugged his shoulders.
“First,” said he, “I am not a traitor, as you know
well enough; and then the interests of all of us de-
pend on your safety. Can one of us be compromised
without endangering his associates? You know that
this is impossible. All you have to do is to point out
where the traces commence; others will follow them
at their own risk, and all you will have to do will be
to look calmly on.”
“ But- "
Mascarin lost his patience, and with a deep frown,
replied,-
“That is enough. We require no more argument.
I am the master, and it is for you to obey."
When Mascarin adopted this tone, resistance was


A SUDDEN CHECK
217
out of the question; and as he invariably made all
yield to him, it was best to obey with a good grace,
and Catenac relapsed into silence, completely subju-
gated and very much puzzled.
“Sit down at my desk,” continued Mascarin, “and
take careful notes of what I now say. Success is,
as I have told you, inevitable, but I must be ably
backed. All now depends upon your exactitude in
obeying my orders; one false step may ruin us all.
You have heard this, and cannot say that you are not
fully warned.”
CHAPTER XX.
A SUDDEN CHECK,
CATENAC seated himself at the writing-table without
a word, concealing his anger and jealousy beneath a
careless smile. Mascarin was no longer the plotter
consulting with his confederates; he was the master
issuing his orders to his subordinates. He had now
taken from a box some of those square pieces of
pasteboard, which he spent his time in reading over.
“ Try and not miss one word of what I am saying,"
remarked he, bending his keen glance upon Paul; then,
turning to Catenac, he continued, “ Can you persuade
the Duke de Champdoce and Perpignan to start for
Vendôme on Saturday?”
“ Perhaps I may be able to do so.”
“I want a Yes or No. Can you or can you not
make these people go there?”
“Well, yes, then.”


218
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“Very well. Then, on going to Vendôme, you will
stop at the Hotel de Porte.”
“Hotel de Porte,” repeated Catenac, as he made a
note of the name.
“Upon the day of your arrival at Vendôme," con-
tinued Mascarin, “ you could do very little. Your time
would be taken up in resting after your journey, and
perhaps you may make a few preliminary inquiries.
It will be on Sunday that you will go to the hospital
together, and make the same inquiries which the Duke
formerly made by himself. The lady superior is a
woman of excellent taste and education, and she will
do all that she can to be useful to you. Through her
you will be able to obtain the boy's description, and
the date on which he left the hospital to be appren-
ticed to a tanner. She will tell you that, disliking
the employment, he ran away from them at the age
of twelve and a half years, and that since then no
trace of him has been found. You will hear from
her that he was a tall, well-built lad, looking two
years older than he really was, with an intelligent cast
of features, and keen, bright eyes, full of health and
good looks. He had on, on the day of his disappear-
ance, blue and white striped trousers, a gray blouse,
a cap with no peak, and a spotted silk cravat. Then,
to assist you still further in your researches she will
add that he carried in a bundle, enveloped in a red
plaid cotton handkerchief, a white blouse, a pair of
gray cloth trousers, and a pair of new shoes.”
Catenac watched Mascarin as he was speaking with
an expression of ill-concealed enmity.
“You are well informed, on my word,” muttered he.
“I think I am," returned Mascarin. “After this
you will go back to the hotel, and not until then-do


A SUDDEN CHECK
219
you understand ?-and you will consult as to the first
steps to be taken. The plan proposed by Perpignan
is an excellent one."
“ What! you know it then?”
“Of course I do. He proposed to divide Vendôme
and its suburbs into a certain number of circles, and
to make a house-to-house visitation in each of them.
Let him go to work in this manner. Of course, to
do so, you will require a guide.”
“Of course we should require such a person.”
“Here, Catenac, I must leave a little to chance, for
I am not quite omnipotent. But there are nine chances
out of ten that your host will advise you to avail
yourself of the services of a man called Fréjot, who
acts as commissioner to the hotel. It may be, how-
ever, that he may designate some one else; but in
that case you must, by some means or other, manage
to employ the services of one other man.”
“What am I to say to him?”
“He understands what he is to do completely. Well,
these preliminaries being settled, you will commence
on Monday morning to search the suburb called
Areines, under the guidance of Fréjot. Leave all
responsibility to Perpignan, but make sure that the
Duke comes with you. Ask the denizens a series of
questions which you have prepared beforehand, such
as ' My friends, we are in search of a boy. A reward
of ten thousand francs is offered to any one who will
put us on his track. He must have left these parts
in August, 1856, and some of you may have seen
him.'”
Here Catenac stopped Mascarin.
“Wait a moment. Your own words are excellent;
I will write them down.”


220
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“All Monday,” continued Mascarin, “ you will not
make much progress, and for the next few days it
will be the same, but on Saturday prepare yourself
for a great surprise; for on that day Fréjot will take
you to a large, lonely farmhouse, on the shores of a
lake. This farm is held by a man named Lorgelin,
who cultivates it with the assistance of his wife and
his two sons. You will find these worthy people at
dinner. They will offer you some refreshment, and
you will accept. At the next word you utter you will
find that they will glance at each other in a meaning
manner, and the wife will exclaim, ‘ Blessed Virgin!
surely the gentleman is speaking of the poor lad we
have so often talked about.'”
As Mascarin went on describing his arrangements,
his whole form seemed to dilate, and his face shone
with the knowledge of mastery and power. His voice
was so clear and his manner so full of authority and
command, that it carried conviction to the minds of
all those who were seated listening to him. He spoke
of what would happen as if he was dealing with an
absolute certainty, and went on with such wonderful
lucidity and force of reasoning that they seemed to
be absolutely real.
“Oh! the farmer's wife will say this, will she?” de-
manded Catenac, in a tone of the utmost surprise.
“Yes, this, and nothing more. Then the husband
will explain that they found the poor lad half dead
in a ditch by the side of the road, and that they took
him home, and did what they could for him; and will
add, this was in the beginning of September, 1856.
You will offer to read him your description of the lad,
but he will volunteer his own, which you will find ex-
actly to tally with the one you have. Then Lorgelin


A SUDDEN CHECK
221
will tell you what an excellent lad he was, and how
the farm seemed quite another place as long as he re-
mained there. All the family will join in singing his
praises—he was so good-tempered, so obliging, and at
thirteen he could write like a lawyer's clerk. And
then they will produce some of his writing in an old
copy book. But after all the old woman, with a tear
in her eye, will say that she found the lad had not
much gratitude in his composition, for at the end of
the following September he left the farm where he had
received so much kindness. Yes, he left them to go
away with some strolling performers. You will be
absolutely affected by the words of these worthy peo-
ple, and before you leave they will show you the
clothes the lad left behind him."
Catenac was waiting for the conclusion, and then
exclaimed, in rather a disappointed tone,
“But I do not see what we have gained when
Lorgelin's story has been repeated to us.”
Mascarin raised his hand, as though to deprecate im-
mediate criticism, and to ask for further patience on
the part of his audience.
“Permit me to go on," said he. “You would now
not know what to do, but Perpignan will not hesitate
for a moment. He will tell you that he holds the end
of the clue, and that all that remains to be done is to
follow it up carefully.”
“I think you overrate Perpignan's talents.”
“Not a bit; each man to his own line of business.
Besides, if he wanders off the course, you must get him
back to it. In this you must act diplomatically. His
first move will naturally be to take you to the office of
the mayor of the township, where a register of licenses
is kept. There you will find that in September, 1857,


222
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
there passed through the place a troop of travelling
performers, consisting of nine persons, with the cara-
vans, under the management of a man known as
Vigoureux, nicknamed the Grasshopper.”
Catenac rapidly jotted down these items. “Not so
fast,” said he; “I cannot follow you.”
After a short pause, Mascarin continued.
“ An attentive examination of the book will prove to
you that no other troupe of itinerant performers passed
through the place during that month; and it is clear
that it must have been the Grasshopper with whom the
lad went away. You will then peruse the man's de-
scription. Vigoureux, born at Bourgogne, Vosges.
Age, forty-seven. Height, six feet two inches. Eyes,
small and gray, rather near-sighted. Complexion dark.
Third finger of left hand cut off at first joint. If you
confound him, after reading this, with any other man
of his profession, you must certainly be rather foolish.”
“I shall now be able to find him," muttered Catenac.
“But that is Perpignan's business. You will see him
put on an air of the greatest importance, and appear
quite overjoyed at the news he has obtained at the office
of the mayor. He will say that the inquiry at Ven-
dôme is over, and that it will be best to return to Paris
at once. Of course, you will make no objection. You
will permit the Duke to make a handsome present to
Lorgelin and Fréjot; but take care not to leave him
behind you. I advise you to regain Paris without a
moments delay. The wily Perpignan, on your return,
will at once take you to the head police office, where
Vigoureux will have left his papers, like other men
of his profession. If there is any difficulty in ob-
taining a sight of them, the Duke de Champdoce
will act as a talisman. You will then discover that in


A SUDDEN CHECK
223
'1864, the man Vigoureux was sentenced to a term of
imprisonment for disorderly conduct, and that he now
keeps a wine-shop at the corner of the Rue Depleux."
“Stop a bit,” said Catenac, “and let me take down
the address.”
“When you go there, you will recognize Vigoureux
by the loss of his finger. He will at once admit that the
lad followed him, and remained in the troupe for ten
months. He was a good enough lad, but as grand as
a peacock, and as lazy as a dormouse. He made great
friends with an old Alsatian, called Fritz, who was
the conductor of the orchestra, and by-and-by both
were so fond of each other, that one day they went off
in each other's company. Now you want to know what
has become of Fritz? I know Vigoureux will get tired
of this prolonged string of questions, and behave vio-
lently; then you will threaten him for having carried
off a youth of tender years, and he will calm down,
and become as mild as mother's milk, and will prom-
ise to gain information for you. In a week he will
give the information that Fritz is to be found at the
Hospital Magloire.”
Absolutely dumb with surprise, the audience listened
to these strange assertions, which dovetailed so exactly
into each other, and seemed to have been the work of
years of research.
“Fritz,” continued Mascarin, “is a sly old dog.
You will find an old, rickety, blue-eyed man at the
hospital, and remember to tell the Duke de Champdoce
that he must not put too much faith in him. This wily
old Alsatian will tell you of all the sacrifices he made
for the dear lad. He will tell you that he often went
without his beer and tobacco in order to pay for the
music lessons that he forced the boy to take. He will


224
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
tell you that he wanted to get him into the Government
School of Music, for that he possessed great vocal and
instrumental talent, and he cherished the hope of one
day seeing him a great composer, like Weber or Mo-
zart. I expect that this flow of self-praise will melt the
heart of your client, for he will see that his son had
made an effort to rise out of the mire by his own ex-
ertions, and will, in this energy, recognize one of the
characteristics of the Champdoce family; and on the
strength of this testimony he will almost be ready to
accept the young man as his son.”
Catenac had for some time past been striving to de-
cipher the meaning hidden behind the inscrutable
countenance of Mascarin, but in vain.
“Let us get on," said the lawyer impatiently. “ All
that you have told me I shall hear later on in the course
of the inquiry.”
"If your sagacity requires no further explanation
from me,” rejoined Mascarin, “ you will, I trust, per-
mit me to continue them for the benefit of our young
friend, Paul Violaine. You will feel compassion when
the Alsatian tells you of his sufferings, at the boys'
description of him, and his subsequent prosperity in the
Rue d'Arras. You had better listen to the old man as
long as he continues to grumble on, the more so as you
will detect in the rancor and bitterness of his remarks
all the vexation of a disappointed speculator. He will
confess to you besides that he subsists entirely on the
bounty of the lad, whom he had stigmatized as an un-
grateful villain. Of course, the Duke will have to
leave behind him some testimonial of his pleasure, and
you will hurry off to the Rue d'Arras. The proprietor
of the house will tell you that some four years ago he
got rid of this musician, the only one of his class who


A SUDDEN CHECK
225
had dared to establish himself there, and a small pres-
ent and a few adroit questions will obtain for you the
address of one of the young man's pupils, Madame
Grandorge, a widow lady, residing in the Rue St.
Louis. This lady will tell you that she does not know
the address of her former master, but that he used to
live at 57, Rue de la Harpe. From the Rue de la
Harpe you will be sent to the Rue Jacob, and from
thence to the Rue Montmartre, at the corner of the
Rue Joquelet.”
Mascarin paused, drew a long breath, and chuckled
inwardly, as though at some excellent joke.
“ Be comforted, Catenac," said he. “You have
nearly reached the end of your journey. The portress
at the house in the Rue Montmartre is the most oblig-
ing woman in the world. She will tell you that the
musician still retains his rooms in the house, but that
he resides there no longer, for he has made a lucky hit,
and last month he married the daughter of a wealthy
banker living close by. The young lady, Mademoiselle
Rigal, saw him, and fell in love with him.”
A clever man like Catenac should have foreseen
what was coming, but he had not, and at this conclu-
sion he uttered a loud exclamation of surprise.
“Yes, just so," said Mascarin, with an air of bland
triumph. “ The Duke de Champdoce will then drag
you off to our mutual friend Martin Rigal, and there
you will find our young protégé, the happy husband of
the beautiful Flavia.”
Mascarin drew himself up, and adjusted his glasses
firmly on his nose.
“Now, my dear Catenac, show the liberality and
amiability of your disposition by congratulating our
friend Paul as Gontran, Marquis de Champdoce.”


A SUDDEN CHECK
227
Catenac rose slowly and solemnly from his seat.
“I recognize your patience and ingenuity thor-
oughly, only I am going with one word to crush the
fabric of hope that you have so carefully erected.”
Catenac might be a coward, he might also be a
traitor, but he was a clever and clear-sighted man too.
Consequently Hortebise shivered as he heard these
words, but Mascarin smiled disdainfully, basking in
his dream of success.
“Go on then,” said he.
“Well, then, let me tell you that you will not over-
reach and deceive the Duke.”
“And why not, pray? " asked Mascarin. “But are
you sure that I wish to deceive him? You have not
been open with me, why should I be frank with you?
Am I in the habit of confiding in those who do not re-
pose confidence in me? Does Perpignan for a moment
suspect the part that he is to play? Why may I not
have judged it best to keep from you the fact that Paul
is really the child you are seeking?”.
Mascarin spoke so confidently that Catenac gazed
upon him, hardly knowing to what conclusion to come,
for his conscience was by no means clear. His intellect
quickly dived into the depths of all probabilities, and
yet he could not see in all these combinations any pos-
sible peril to himself.
“I only hope," said he, “ that Paul is all that you
represent him to be; but why all these precautions ?
Only, mark my words, the Duke has an infallible way
of detecting, or rather of preventing, any attempt at
imposition. It is ever thus, the most trivial circum-
stance will overset the best laid plans, and the inevi-
table destroy the combinations of the most astute in-
tellect.”


230 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
The doctor and Mascarin exchanged a look of tri-
umph.
“Of course we share and share alike,” observed the
lawyer. “It is true that I come in rather late; but
the part I play is a delicate and an important one, and
you can do nothing without me.”
“ You shall have your share," answered Mascarin
evasively.
“One word more,” said the lawyer. “Do you think
that the Duke has kept nothing back? The infant
was hardly seen by him or the Duchess; but Jean saw
it, and he, though very old and infirm, would come
forward at any moment to defend the name and honor
of the Champdoce family.”
“Well, and what then?”
" Jean, you know, was against the substitution of
another child. May he not have foreseen the chance
of such a case as this arising ?”
Mascarin looked grave. “I have thought of that
before," returned he; “but what can be done?”
“I will find out,” said Catenac. “ Jean has the
most implicit confidence in me, and I will question
him.”
The cold calmness of the lawyer had vanished, and
Catenac only displayed the zealous eagerness of the
man who, admitted at a late hour into an enterprise
which he imagines will be lucrative, burns to do as
much as he can to further it.
“But,” added he, as an after-thought, “how can
we be certain that there is no one to recognize Paul?"
“I can answer for that; his poverty had isolated
him from all but a woman named Rose, and I took
care that she should be sent to the prison of St. La-
zare. At one time I was a little anxious, as I heard


A SUDDEN CHECK
231
that Paul had a patron; but he, as I have found out,
was the Count de Mussidan, the murderer of Mont-
louis, who, as you may have guessed, was Paul's
father."
“We have nothing, then, to fear from that quar-
ter," said the doctor.
“Nothing; and while you get on with your work,
I will hurry on Paul's marriage with Rigal's daugh-
ter. But this will not prevent my busying myself in
another quarter; for before a month Henri de Croise-
nois will have floated his Company, and become the
husband of Sabine de Mussidan.”
“I think that it is about time for dinner," re-
marked Hortebise, and, turning to the protégé of the
association, he added, “ Come, Paul.”
But Paul made no movement, and then for the first
time it was seen that the poor boy had fainted, and
they had to sprinkle cold water upon him before he
regained consciousness.
“Surely,” remarked the doctor, “it is not the idea
of a trifling operation that you will not feel which
has so frightened you?”.
Paul shook his head. “ It is not that,” said he.
“What, then, is it?”
“Simply that the real man exists; I know him, and
know where he lives.”
“What do you mean?” they cried.
"I know him, I tell you—the son of the Duke de
Champdoce.”
“Let us hear all!” cried Mascarin, who was the
first to come to his senses. “Explain yourself.”
“ Simply this. I know such a young man, and it
was the thought of this that made me feel so ill. He
is thirty-three. He was at the Foundling Hospital;


232 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
he left it at the age of twelve and a half years; and
he has just such a scald on his shoulder, which he
got when he was apprenticed to a tanner.”
"And where," asked Mascarin quickly, “is this
same young man? What is his name, and what does
he do for a living ?”.
“He is a painter; his name is André, and he
lives "
A blasphemous oath from Mascarin interrupted him.
“This is the third time,” said he fiercely, “ that this
cursed fellow has crossed our path; but I swear that
it shall be the last.”
Hortebise and Catenac were livid with alarm.
“What do you intend to do? ” asked they.
“I shall do nothing," answered he; “ but you know
that this André, in addition to being a painter, is an
ornamental sculptor and house decorator, and so is
often on lofty scaffolds. Have you never heard that
accidents frequently happen to that class of people?”
CHAPTER XXI.
A MELANCHOLY MASHER.
WHEN Mascarin spoke of suppressing the man who
stood in his way as easily as if he was alluding to
extinguishing a candle, he was not aware that there
was one circumstance which considerably enhanced
the difficulty of his task, for André had been fore-
warned, and this note of warning had been sounded
on the day on which he had received that letter from


A MELANCHOLY MASHER
233
Sabine, in which she spoke in such despairing terms
of her approaching marriage, which she had been
compelled to agree to to save the honor of her fam-
ily. This feeling was strengthened by a long conver-
sation he had had with M. de Breulh-Faverlay and the
Viscountess de Bois Arden, in which it was unani-
mously decided that the Count and Countess de Mus-
sidan were victims of some plot of which Henri de
Croisenois was certainly one of the promoters. He
had no conception on what side to look for the danger,
but he had an instinctive feeling that it was impend-
ing. He prepared, therefore, to act on the defensive.
It was not only his life that was in danger, but his love
and his future happiness. M. de Breulh-Faverlay had
also serious apprehensions for the safety of a man for
whom he entertained so great a respect and regard.
"I would lay a heavy wager," said he, “that we
have to do with some villainous blackmailers, and the
difficulty of the business is, that we must do the work
ourselves, for we dare not invite the aid of the police.
We have no proof to offer, and the police will not stir
a foot on mere suppositions, and we should not earn
the thanks of those we are desirous of assisting if
we called the attention of the law to certain acts in
their past lives; for who can say what the terrible
secret is, that some vile wretch holds over the heads
of M. and Madame de Mussidan? and it is quite on
the cards that the Count and the Countess might be
compelled to join the blackmailers and oppose us.
We must act with the greatest prudence and caution.
Remember, that if you are out at night, you must avoid
dark corners, for it would be the easiest thing in the
world to put a knife into your back.”
The conclusion that was arrived at, at this inter-


THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
view, was that for the present André and De Breulh
should cease to see each other so frequently. They
felt convinced that a watch had been set on them, and
that their intimacy would certainly be notified to De
Croisenois; and of course they had every desire to
cause him to imagine that they were not acting in any
way together. The arrangement, therefore, that they
entered into was that each should act from his own
point of vantage against Henri de Croisenois, and
that when necessary they should meet in the evening
to compare notes in a small café in the Champs Ely-
sées, not far from the house in which André was at
work.
His courage was still as high as ever, but the first
symptoms of rashness had vanished. He was a born
diplomatist, and fully realized that cunning and treach-
ery must be met by similar weapons. He must not
break his engagement to M. Gandelu; but how could
he superintend the workmen and keep an eye on Croi-
senois at the same time? Money was absolutely nec-
essary, and yet he felt a strange disinclination to ac-
cept a loan from M. de Breulh. If he were to throw
up his work, it would naturally create suspicion.
M. Gandelu had a shrewd head, and André, remem-
bering the old man's kindness to him on all occasions,
determined to confide the matter to him, and with
this object he called on him the next morning as the
clock was striking nine. His surprise was extreme
when he saw Gaston de Gandelu in the courtyard.
He was just the same looking Gaston, the lover of
Madame de Chantemille, to the outward eye, but some
grave calamity had evidently entirely changed the
inner man. He was smoking his cigar with an air


A MELANCHOLY MASHER
235
of desperation, and seemed to be utterly weary of the
world and its belongings.
At the moment André entered the young man
caught sight of him.
“Halloo!” said he; “here is my artistic friend. I
lay ten to one that you have come to ask my father to
do you a favor."
“You are quite right; is he at home?”
“The governor is in the sulks; he has shut himself
up, and will not see me.”
“ You are joking."
“Not I; the old man is a regular despot, and I am
sick of everything."
Noticing that one of the grooms was listening, Gas-
ton had sufficient sense to draw André a little on one
side.
“Do you know," asked he, “ that the governor has
docked my screw and vows that he will advertise him-
self as not responsible for the debts of yours truly ;
but I cannot think he will do so, for that would be a
regular smash-up for me. You haven't such a trifle
as ten thousand francs about you that you could lend
me, have you? I'd give twenty thousand for the ac-
commodation when I came of age.”
“I must say ,” began André.
“ All right; never mind; I understand. If you had
the ready, you wouldn't be hanging about here; but
for all that, I must have the cash. Hang it all, I
signed bills to that amount payable to Verminet. Do
you know the fellow ?”.
“Not at all.”
“Where were you dragged up? Why, he is the
head of the Mutual Loan Society. The only nuisance


236 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
is, that to make matters run a bit smooth, I wrote
down the wrong name. Do you tumble, eh?”.
"But, great heavens! that is forgery,” said André,
aghast.
“Not a bit, for I always intended to pay; besides, I
wanted the money to square Van Klopen. You know
him, I suppose?”
“No."
“Well, he is the chap to dress a girl. I had those
costumes for Zora from him; but it is out and out
the governor's fault. Why did he drive me to des-
peration? Yes, it is all the old man's doing. He
wasn't satisfied with pitching into me, but he collared
that poor, helpless lamb and shut her up. She never
did him any harm, and I call it a right down cow-
ardly and despicable act to hurt Zora.”
“Zora,” repeated André, who did not recognize the
name.
“Yes, Zora; you know; you had a feed with us
one day.”
“Yes, yes; you mean Rose.”
“That's it; but I don't like any one to call her by
that ugly, common name. Well, the governor has
gone mad about her, and filed a complaint against
her of decoying a minor, as if I was a fellow any
one could decoy. Well, the end of it was, that she is
now in the prison of St. Lazare."
The tears started to the young man's eyes as he
related his grievance.
“Poor Zora,” he added; “I was never mashed on a
woman like I was on her. And then what a splendid
form she was! Why, the hairdresser said he had
never seen such hair in his life; and she is at St.


238
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
"Sir," said he, addressing André, “my master has
seen you from his window, and begs that you will go
up to him at once.”
“I will be with him immediately,” answered André;
and, holding out his hand to Gaston, he took leave
of him with a few words of encouragement.
CHAPTER XXII.
A GENTLEMAN IN DIFFICULTIES.
WHEN André had got rid of the young man, and
had been ushered into M. Gandelu's presence, the
change in that gentleman's appearance struck him with
horror. His eyes were red and swollen as if he had
been weeping, but as soon as he caught sight of André
his face brightened, and he welcomed him warmly.
“Oh, it does me good to see you, and I bless the
fortunate chance that has brought you here to-day.”
"It is not a very fortunate chance," answered
André, as he shook his head sadly.
For the first time Gandelu noticed the air of gravity
which marked the young man, and the shade of sor-
row upon his brow.
“What ails you, André?” asked he.
“A great misfortune is hanging over me."
“What do you mean?"
“ The naked truth and this misfortune may bring
death and despair to me."
"I am your friend, my dear boy,” said the old man,
“and would gladly be of service to you. Tell me if
I can be of any use?”
"I come to you to-day to ask a favox at your
hands."


A GENTLEMAN IN DIFFICULTIES 239
“And you thought of the old man, then? I thank
you for doing so. Give me your hand; I like to feel
the grasp of an honest man's hand; it warms my
heart."
"It is the secret of my life that I am going to con-
fide to you,” said he, with some solemnity.
M. Gandelu made no reply, but struck his clenched
fist upon his breast, as though to show that any secret
confided to him would be locked up in the safe se-
curity of his heart.
Then André hesitated no longer, and, with the ex-
ception of giving names, told the whole story of his
love, his ambitions, and his hopes, and gave a clear
account of how matters stood.
“How can I help you?” asked M. Gandelu.
“ Allow me,” said André,“ to hand over the work
with which you have intrusted me to one of my
friends. I will retain the responsibility, but will merely
act as one of the workmen. This, to a certain extent,
will give me my liberty, while at the same time I
shall be earning a little money, which is just now of
vast importance to me.”
“Is that what you call a favor ?”
“Certainly, and a very great one, too."
Gandelu rose hastily, and, opening an iron safe
which stood in one corner of the room, and taking
from it a bundle of banknotes, he placed them on the
table before André with an expressive look, which
meant, “ Take what you desire."
The unlooked-for kindness of this man, who forgot
all his own sorrows in his anxiety to relieve the ne-
cessities of another, affected André deeply.
"I do not need money,” began he.
With a wave of his hand Gandelu inspired silence.


240
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“Take these twenty thousand francs,” said he," and
then I can tell you why I asked you to come upstairs.”
A refusal would have wounded the old man deeply,
and so André took the proffered loan.
Gandelu resumed his seat, and remained in gloomy
silence for some time.
“My dear boy,” said he, in a voice broken by emo-
tion, “a day or two back you saw something of the
trouble that I am laboring under. I have no longer
any respect or esteem for that wretched fool, my son,
Pierre.”
André had already guessed that he had been in-
censed with reference to something connected with
Gaston.
“ Your son has behaved very foolishly,” said he;
" but remember he is very young.”
A sad smile passed over the old man's face.
“My son is old in vice," replied he. “I have
thought the matter over only too plainly. Yesterday
he declared that he would kill himself. An absurd
threat. Up to this time I have been culpably weak,
and it is no use now to act in an opposite direction.
The unhappy boy is infatuated with a degraded woman
named Rose, and I have had her locked up; but I
have made up my mind to let her out again, and also
to pay his debts. It is weak folly, I allow; but what
am I to do? I am his father after all; and while I
cannot respect her, I must love him. He has almost
broken my heart, but it was his to do as he liked
with.”
André made no reply, and Gandelu went on.
"I have not deceived myself; my son is ruined.
I can but stand by and wait for the end. If this Rose
is not everything that is bad, her influence may be


A GENTLEMAN IN DIFFICULTIES 241
of some use to him. But I want some one to under-
take these negotiations, and I had hopes, André, that
you would have been able to do so.”
André felt that all his efforts ought to be devoted
to the interests of Sabine, but at the same time he
could not leave the kind old man to the mercy of
others, and by a display of absolute heroism he deter-
mined to accede to the broken-hearted father's de-
sires and briefly told him that he was at his service.
Gandelu thanked him warmly, and André, seating
himself at the table, the two men entered into a long
discussion as to the best means to be adopted. It
was finally decided that André should act with free-
dom and according to his own instincts, and that M.
Gandelu should, to actual appearance, remain firm in
the course he had entered upon, and should only be
induced, by André's intercession, to adopt milder meas-
ures. The result justified their anticipations, for Gas-
ton was even more crushed and downcast than André
had imagined, and it was in an agony of suspense that
he awaited the return of the young painter. As soon
as he saw him descending the steps he sprang forward
to greet him.
“Well,” said he, in a tone of eager inquiry.
“ Your father," returned André, "is terribly angry
with you, but I hope to be able to induce him to do
something for you.”
“Will he set Zora at liberty ?”
"Perhaps he will; but first he must have something
more from you than promises—he must have stable
guarantees.”
At these words Gaston's face fell. “Guarantees,"
answered he sulkily. “Is not my word of honor
enough? What sort of guarantees does he require?”


242
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“ That I cannot tell you, and you must find out for
yourself; but I will do all I can for you."
Gaston gazed upon André in surprise.
“Do you mean to tell me," asked he, “that you
can do pretty well what you like with the governor?”
“Not exactly; but surely you can see that I have a
good deal of influence over him. If you want a proof
of this, see, here is the money to take up these bills
you told me of.”
“What, Verminet's ?”
“I suppose so. I am speaking of those to which
you were mad enough to forge another man's name."
Foolish as the boy was, this act of his had caused
him many a sleepless night, and he had reflected very
often how he could possibly escape from the conse-
quence of his act of rashness.
“Give me the money,” cried he.
André shook his head, however. “Forgive me,"
said he, “but this money does not quit my hands until
the bills are handed over to me. Your father's orders
on this point are decided; but the sooner we settle
the affair the better.”
“ That is too bad; the governor is as sly as a fox;
but he must have his own way, I suppose, so come on.
Only just wait till I slip on a coat more suitable to
my position than this lounging suit.”
He rushed away, and was back again in ten minutes
as neat as a new pin, and full of gayety and good
spirits.
“We can walk," said he, putting his arm through
André's. “We have to go to the Rue St. Anne."
Verminet had his office in this street-the office of
the Mutual Loan Society, of which he was the manag-
ing director. The house, in spite of its grandiloquent


244 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
affecting an air of wisdom,“ but it is deemed handy
sometimes. It does all sorts of business that you
would never think of. A real downy card is Ver-
minet."
André could easily believe this, for, of course, there
could be but one opinion concerning the character of
a man who could have induced a mere simpleton like
Gaston to affix a forged signature to the bills which
he had discounted. He made no remark, however, but
entered the house, with the interior arrangements of
which Gaston appeared to be perfectly familiar. They
passed through a dirty, ill-smelling passage, went
across a courtyard, cold and damp as a cell, and as-
cended a flight of stairs with a grimy balustrade. On
the second floor Gaston made a halt before a door
upon which several names were painted. They passed
through into a large and lofty room. The paper on
the walls of this delectable chamber was torn and
spotted, and a light railing ran along it, behind which
sat two or three clerks, whose chief occupation ap-
peared to be consuming the breakfast which they had
brought with them to the office. The heat of the
stove, which was burning in one corner of the room,
the general mouldiness of the atmosphere, and the
smell of the coarse food, were sufficient to turn the
stomach of any one coming in from the fresh air.
“Where is M. Verminet?” asked Gaston authori-
tatively.
“Engaged,” replied one of the clerks, without paus-
ing to empty his mouth before he replied.
“Don't you talk to me like that. What do I care
whether he is engaged or not? Tell him that Gaston
de Gandelu desires to see him at once.”
The clerk was evidently impressed by his visitor's


RINGING THE CHANGES
245
manner, and, taking the card which was handed to
him, made his exit through a door at the other end
of the room.
Gaston was delighted at this first victory, and
glanced at André with a triumphant smile.
The clerk came back almost at once. “M. Ver-
minet,” cried he,“ has a client with him just now.
He begs that you will excuse him for a few minutes,
when he will see you”; and evidently anxious to be
civil to the gorgeously attired youths before him, he
added, “My master is just now engaged with M. de
Croisenois.”
"Aha,” cried Gaston ;“ I will lay you ten to one that
the dear Marquis will be delighted to see me.”
André started on hearing this name, and his cheek
crimsoned. The man whom he most hated in this
world; the wretch who, by his possession of some
compromising secret, was forcing Sabine into a de-
tested marriage; the villain whom he, M. de Breulh,
and Madame de Bois Arden had sworn to overreach,
was within a few paces of him, and that now he should
see him face to face. Their eyes would meet, and
he would hear the tones of the scoundrel's voice. His
rage and agitation were so intense that it was with
the utmost difficulty that he concealed it. Luckily for
him, Gaston was not paying the slightest attention to
his companion; for having, at the clerk's invitation,
taken a chair, he assumed an imposing attitude, which
struck the shabby young man behind the railing with
the deepest admiration.
“I suppose," said he, in a loud voice, “ that you
know my dear friend, the Marquis ?”
André made some reply, which Gaston interpreted
as a negative.


246
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“Really,” said he, “ you know no one, as I told you
before. Where have you lived? But you must have
heard of him? Henri de Croisenois is one of my most
intimate friends. He owes me over fifty louis that I
won of him one night at baccarat.”
André was now certain that he had estimated Ver-
minet's character correctly, and the relations of the
Marquis de Croisenois with this very equivocal per-
sonage assumed a meaning of great significance to
him. He felt now that he had gained a clue, a beacon
blazed out before him, and he saw his way more
clearly into the difficult windings of this labyrinth of
iniquity which he knew that he must penetrate before
he gained the secret he longed for.
He felt like a child playing the game called "Magic
Music," when, as the seeker nears the hiding place of
the article of which he is in search, the strains of the
piano swell higher and higher. He now found that
the boy whose master he had become, knew, or said
he knew, a good deal of this marquis. Why should he
not gain some information from him?”.
“Are you really intimate with the Marquis de
Croisenois?” asked he.
“I should rather think I was,” returned Gandelu
the younger. “ You will see that precious sharp. I
know all about him, and who the girl is that he is
ruining himself for, but I mustn't talk about that;
mum's the word, you know."
At that moment the door opened, and the Marquis
appeared, followed by Verminet.
Henri de Croisenois was attired in the most fash-
ionable manner, and formed an utter contrast to the
flashy dress of Gaston. He was smoking a cigar,
and mechanically tapping his boots with an elegant


RINGING THE CHANGES 247
walking cane. In a moment the features and figure
of the Viscount were indelibly photographed upon
André's brain. He particularly noticed his eyes, which
had in them a half-concealed look of terror, and his
face bore the haunted expression of a person who ex-
pects some terrible blow to fall upon him at any mo-
ment.
At a little distance the Marquis seemed still young,
but a closer inspection showed that the man looked
even older than he really was, so worn and haggard
were his mouth and eyes. Nights at the gaming-table
and the anxiety as to where the fresh supplies should
come from to furnish the means to prolong his life of
debauchery had told heavily upon him. To-day, how-
ever, he seemed to be in the best temper imaginable,
and in the most cheerful manner he addressed a few
words to Verminet, in conclusion of the conversation
that had been going on in the inner office.
“It is settled then,” remarked he, “that I am to
have nothing more to do with a business with which
neither of us has any real concern?”
"Just so," answered Verminet.
“Very well, then; but remember that any mistake
you may make in the other affair will be attended
with the most serious results.”
This caution seemed to suggest some new idea to
Verminet, for he said something in a low voice to
his client at which they both laughed.
Gaston was fidgeting about, very uneasy at the Mar-
quis having paid no attention to him, and he now ad-
vanced with a magnificent salutation and a friendly
wave of the hand. If the Marquis was charmed at
meeting Gandelu, he concealed his delight in a most
wonderful manner. He seemed surprised, but not


THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
agreeably so; he bent his head, and he extended his
gloved hand with a negligent, “ Ah, pleased to see
you.” Then without taking any more notice of Gas-
ton, he turned on his heel and continued his conversa-
tion with Verminet.
“The worst part is over,” said he, "and therefore
no time is to be lost. You must see Mascarin and
Martin Rigal, the banker, to-day.”
At these words André started. Were these people
Croisenois' accomplices ? Certainly he had accomplices
on the brain just now, and their names remained
deeply engraved on the tablets of his memory.
“Tantaine was here this morning,” observed Ver-
minet, “and told me that his master wanted to see me
at four this afternoon. Van Klopen will be there
also. Shall I say a word to him about your fine
friend?”
“ 'Pon my soul,” remarked the Marquis, shrugging
his shoulders, “I had nearly forgotten her. There
will be a tremendous fuss made, for she will be want-
ing all sorts of things. Speak to Van Klopen cer-
tainly, but do not bind yourself. Remember that I
do not care a bit for the fair Sara.”
“Quite so; I understand,” answered Verminet;" but
keep things quiet, and do not have any open disturb-
ances.”
"Of course not. Good morning,” and with a bow
to the managing director and a nod to Gaston, he
lunged out of the office, not condescending to take the
slightest notice of André. Verminet invited André
and Gaston into his sanctum, and, taking a seat, mo-
tioned to them to do the same. Verminet was a de-
cided contrast to his office, which was shabby and
dirty, for his dress did his tailor credit, and he ap-


250 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
Verminet stared at him.
“Who have I the honor of speaking to?” asked
he, instead of making a direct reply.
"I am a friend of M. de Gandelu's,” returned
André, thinking it best not to give any name.
“ A confidential friend ? ”
“Entirely so. He had, I think, ten thousand francs
from you."
“Pardon me, five thousand.”
André turned toward his companion in some sur-
prise.
Gaston grew crimson.
“ What is the meaning of this?” asked the
artist.
“ Can't you see?” whispered Gaston. “I had ten
because I wanted the other five for Zora.”
“Oh, indeed,” returned André, with a slight up-
lifting of his eyebrows. “Well, then, M. Verminet,
it was five thousand francs that you lent to my young
friend here. That was right enough; but what do
you say to inducing him to forge a signature?”
"I! I do such a thing ?” answered Verminet.
“Why, I did not know that the signature was not
genuine.”
This insolent denial aroused the unhappy Gaston
from his state of stupor.
“This is too much, a deuced deal too much,” cried
he. “Did you not yourself tell me that, for your own
security, you must insist upon another name in addi-
tion to mine? Did you not give me a letter, and say,
'Write a signature like the one at the bottom of
this, it is that of Martin Rigal, the banker in the Rue
Montmartre'?"
“An utterly false accusation, without a shadow of


RINGING THE CHANGES 251
proof; and remember that a libel uttered in the pres-
ence of a third party is punishable by law.”
“And yet, sir,” continued André, "you did not
hesitate for a moment in discounting these bills. Have
you calculated what terrible results may come of this
breach of faith on your part?—what will happen if
this forged signature is presented to M. Martin Ri-
gal? ”
“Very unlikely. Gandelu is the drawer, Rigal
merely the endorser. Bills, when due, are always
presented to the drawer," returned Verminet laconi-
cally.
Evidently a trap had been laid for Gaston, but the
reason was still buried in obscurity.
“ Then,” remarked André,“ we have but one course
to pursue: we must trace those notes to the hands in
which they now are, and take them up.”
“Quite right.”
“But to enable us to do so, you must first let us
know the name of the party who discounted them.”
“I don't know; I have forgotten,” answered Ver-
minet, with a careless wave of his hand.
“Then,” returned André, in a low, deep voice of
concentrated fury, “let me advise you, for your own
sake, to make an immediate call upon your powers of
memory."
“Do you threaten me?”
“And if you do not succeed in remembering the
name or names, the consequences may be more seri-
ous than you seem to anticipate.”
Verminet saw that the young painter was in danger-
ous earnest, and rose from his chair, but André was
too quick for him.
"No," said he, placing his back against the door;


252
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
"you will not leave this room until you have done
what I require.”
For fully ten minutes the men stood gazing at each
other. Verminet was green with terror, while André's
face, though pale, was firm and determined.
“If the scoundrel makes any resistance,” said he to
himself, “I will fling him out of the window.”
“The man is a perfect athlete,” thought Verminet,
"and looks as if he would stick at nothing."
Seeing that he had better give in, the managing
director took up a bulky ledger, and began to turn
over the leaves with trembling fingers.
André saw that he was holding it upside down.
“There it is,” cried Verminet at last.
“ Bills for five thousand francs. Gandelu and Rigal,
booked for discount to Van Klopen, ladies' tailor.”
André was silent.
Why was it that Verminet had suggested Rigal's
signature as the one he ought to imitate ? and why had
he handed the bills over to Van Klopen? Was it
mere chance that had arranged it all? He did not
believe it, but felt sure that some secret tie united
them all together, Verminet, Van Klopen, Rigal, and
the Marquis de Croisenois.
“Do you want anything more?” asked the manager
of the Mutual Loan Society.
“Are the bills in Van Klopen's hands ?”
“I can't say."
“Never mind; he will have to tell me where they
are, if he has not got them," returned André.
They left the house, and as soon as they were again
in the street André took his companion's arm, and
hurried him off in the direction of the Rue de
Grammont.


THE VANISHING BILLS 253
“I don't want to give this thief, Verminet, time to
warn Van Klopen of what has taken place; I had
rather fall upon him with the suddenness of an earth-
quake. Come, let us go to his establishment at once."
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE VANISHING BILLS.
Had André known a little more of the man he had
to deal with, he would have learned that no one could
fall like an earthquake upon Van Klopen. Shut up in
the sanctum where he composed the numberless cos-
tumes that were the wonder and delight of Paris, Van
Klopen made as careful arrangements to secure him-
self from interview as the Turk does to guard the ap-
proaches to his seraglio; and so André and Gandelu
were accosted in the entrance hall by his stately foot-
men, clad in gorgeous liveries, glittering with gold.
"M. van Klopen is engaged,” cried they with one
voice.
“Our business is of the utmost importance," as-
serted André.
“Our master is composing."
Entreaties, threats, and even a bribe of one hundred
francs were alike useless; and André, seeing that he
was about to be checkmated, was half tempted to take
the men by the collar and hurl them on one side, but
he calmed himself, and, already repenting of his vio-
lence at Verminet's, he determined on a course of sub-
mission, and so meekly followed the footmen into the
famous waiting-room, styled by Van Klopen his pur-


254
THI
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
gatory. The footmen, however, had spoken the truth,
for several ladies of the highest rank and standing
were awaiting the return of this arbiter elegantiarum.
All of them turned as the young men entered-all
save one, who was gazing out of the window, drawing
with her pretty fingers on the window panes. André
recognized her in an instant as Madame de Bois Ar-
den.
“Is it possible?” thought he. “Can the Countess
have returned here after what has occurred?”.
Gaston felt that five charming pairs of eyes were
fixed upon him, and studied to assume his most grace-
ful posture.
After a brief time given to arrangement, André
grew disgusted.
“I wish that she would look round,” said he to him-
self. “I think she would feel rather ashamed. I will
say a word to her.”
He rose from his chair, and, without thinking how
terribly he might compromise the lady, he took up a
position at her side. She was, however, intently
watching something that was going on in the street,
and did not turn her head.
“Madame,” said he.
She started, and, as she turned and recognized
André, she uttered a little cry of surprise.
“Great heavens! is that you?”
“Yes, it is I.”
“And here? I dare say that my presence in this
place surprises you,” she went on, “and that I have a
short memory, and no feelings of pride."
André made no reply, and his silence was a suffi-
cient rejoinder to the question.
“You do me a great injustice," muttered the Count-


256
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
the most unhappy manner. Their faces are careworn
and full of anxiety, and they watch every movement
of Sabine with eager eyes. I think that they look
upon her as a means of safety, but shudder at the
sacrifice she is making on their account.”
“ And Sabine?”
“Her conduct is perfectly sublime, and she is ready
to consummate the sacrifice without a murmur. Her
self-sacrificing devotion is perfectly admirable; but
what is more admirable still is the way in which she
conceals the suffering that she endures from her par-
ents. Noble-hearted girl! she is calm and silent, but
she has always been so. She has grown thinner, and
perhaps her cheek is a trifle paler, but her forehead
was burning and seemed to scorch my lips as I kissed
her. With this exception, however, there was nothing
else about her that would betray her tortures. Mo-
deste, her maid, told me, moreover, that when night
came she seemed utterly worn out, and the poor girl,
with tears in her eyes, declared 'that her dear mistress
was killing herself.'”
André's eyes overflowed with tears.
“What have I done to deserve such love?"
asked he.
A door suddenly opened, and André and the
Viscountess turned hastily at the sound. It was Van
Klopen who came in, crying, according to his usual
custom, -
“Well, and whose turn is it next?”,
When, however, he saw Gaston, his face grew white,
and it was with a smile that he stepped towards him,
motioning back the lady whose turn it was, and who
protested loudly against this injustice.
“Ah, M. de Gandelu,” said he, “you have come, I


THE VANISHING BILLS
257
suppose, to besp cak some fresh toilettes for that ex-
quisite creature, Zora de Chantemille ?”
“Not to-day," returned Gaston. “ Zora is a little
indisposed.”
André, however, who had arranged the narrative
that he was about to pour into the ears of the famous
Van Klopen, was in too much haste to permit of any
unnecessary delay.
“We have come here,” said he hurriedly,“ upon
a matter of some moment. My friend, M. Gaston
de Gandelu, is about to leave Paris for some months,
and, before doing so, is anxious to settle all outstand-
ing accounts, and retire all his bills, which may not
yet have fallen due.”
“ Have I any bills of M. de Gandelu?” said Van
Klopen slowly. “ Ah, yes, I remember that I had
some now. Yes, five bills of one thousand francs each,
drawn by Gandelu, and accepted by Martin Rigal. I
received them from the Mutual Loan Society, but they
are no longer in my hands.”
“Is that the case?” murmured Gaston, growing
sick with apprehension.
“Yes, I sent them to my cloth merchants at St.
Etienne, Rollon and Company."
Van Klopen was a clever scoundrel, but he some-
times lacked the necessary perception of when he had
said enough; and this was proved to-day, for, agitated
by the steady gaze that André kept upon him, he
added,
“If you do not believe my word, I can show you
the acknowledgment that I received from that firm.”
"It is unnecessary,” replied André. “Your state-
ment is quite sufficient.”
“I should prefer to let you see the letter."


258
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“No, thank you,” replied André, not for a moment
duped by the game that was being played. “Pray take
no more trouble. We shall, I presume, find that the
bills are at St. Etienne. There is no use in taking
any more trouble about them, and we will wait until
they arrive at maturity. I have the honor to wish
you good morning.”
And with these words he dragged away Gaston,
who was actually about to consult Van Klopen as to
the most becoming costume for Zora to appear in on
leaving the prison of St. Lazare. When they were a
few doors from the man-milliner's, André stopped and
wrote down the names of Van Klopen's cloth mer-
chants. Gaston was now quite at his ease.
“I think,” remarked he," that Van Klopen is a
sharp fellow; he knows that I am to be relied on.”
• Where do you think your bills are?”
“At St. Etienne's, of course.”
The perfect innocence of the boy elicited from
André a gesture of impatient commiseration.
“ Listen to me,” said he, “and see if you can com-
prehend the awful position in which you have placed
yourself.”
“I am listening, my dear fellow; pray go on.”
“You drew these bills through Verminet because
Van Klopen would not give you credit.”
“ Exactly so.”
“How, then, do you account for the fact that this
man, who was at first disinclined to trust you, should,
without rhyme or reason, offer to supply you now as
he did to-day?”
“The deuce! that never struck me. It does seem
queer. Does he want to play me a nasty trick? But
which of them is it—Verminet or Van Klopen?”


THE VANISHING BILLS 259
“ It is plain to me that the pair of them have en-
tered into a pleasant little plot to blackmail you.”
Young Gandelu did not at all like this turn, and
he exclaimed,-
“Blackmail me, indeed! why, I know my way about
better than that. They won't get much out of me, I
can tell you."
André shrugged his shoulders.
“Then,” said he, “ just tell me what you intend to
say to Verminet when he comes to you upon the day
your bills fall due, and says to you, ‘Give me one
hundred thousand francs for these five little bits of
paper, or I go straight to your father with them'?”.
“I should say, of course—ah, well, I really do not
know what I should say.”
“ You could say nothing, except that you had been
imposed on in the most infamous way. You would
plead for time, and Verminet would give it to you if
you would execute a deed insuring him one hundred
thousand francs on the day you came of age.”
“A hundred thousand devils are all the rogue would
get from me. That's the way I do things, do you
see? If people try and ride roughshod over me, I
merely hit out, and then just look out for broken
bones. Pay this chap? Not I! I know the governor
would make an almighty shine, but I'll choose that
sooner than be had like that.”
He was quite serious, but could only put his feel-
ings into the language he usually spoke.
"I think,” answered André, “that your father
would forgive this imprudence, but that it will be even
harder for him to do so than it was to send a doctor
to number the hours he had to live. He will forgive
you because he is your father, and because he loves


260 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
you; but Verminet, when he finds that the threat to
go to your father does not appall you, will menace you
with criminal proceedings."
“Hulloo !” said Gandelu, stopping short. “I say,
that is very poor fun,” gasped he.
“ There is no fun in it, for such fun, when brought
to the notice of a court of justice, goes by the ugly
name of forgery, and forgery means a swinging heavy
sentence."
Gaston turned pale, and trembled from head to foot.
“ Tried and sentenced,” faltered he. “No, I don't
believe you, but I hold no honors and will turn up
my cards.” He quite forgot that he was in the public
street, and was talking at the top of his shrill falsetto
voice, and gesticulating violently.
“The poor old governor, I might have made him
so happy, and, after all, I have only been a torment
to him. Ah, could I but begin once more; but then
the cards are dealt, and I must go on with the game,
and I have made a nice muddle of the whole thing
before I am twenty years of age; but no criminal
courts for me, no, the easiest way out of it is a pistol
shot, for I am an honest man's son, and I will not
bring more disgrace on him than I have already done.”
“Do you really mean what you say?" asked André.
"Of course I do. I can be firm enough some-
times.”
“Then we will not despair yet," answered the young
painter. “I think that we shall be able to settle this
ugly business, but you cannot be too cautious. Keep
indoors, and remember that I may have urgent need
of you at almost any time of day or night.”
"I agree, but remember this, Zora is not to be for-
gotten."


THE SPY
261
“Don't fret over that; I will call and see her to-
morrow. And now, farewell for to-day, as I have not
an instant to lose,” and with these words André hur-
ried off.
André's reason for haste was that he had caught a
few words addressed by Verminet to Croisenois—“I
shall see Mascarin at four o'clock.” And he determined
to loiter about the Rue St. Anne, and watch the Man-
aging Director when he came out, and so find out who
this Mascarin was, who he was certain was mixed up
in the plot. He darted down the Rue de Grammont
like an arrow from a bow, and as the clock in a neigh-
boring belfry chimed half-past three, he was in the
Rue St. Anne. There was a small wine-shop almost
opposite to the office of the Mutual Loan Society, and
there André ensconced himself and made a frugal
meal, while he was waiting for Verminet’s appear-
ance, and just as he had finished his light refreshment
he saw the man he wanted come out of the office, and
crept cautiously after him like a Red Indian on the
trail of his enemy.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE SPY.
As Verminet swaggered down the street he had the
air of a successful man, of a capitalist, in short, and
the Managing Director of a highly lucrative concern.
André had no difficulty in following his man, though
detective's business was quite new to him, which is
· no such easy matter, although every one thinks that
he can become one. André kept his man in sight, and


THE SPY
265
“ Ten sous.”
The delightful youth puffed out his cheeks, then
expelled the pent-up wind by a sudden slap, as a mark
of his disgust at the meanness of the offer.
“Pull up your braces, my lord,” said he sarcas-
tically, “or you'll be losing the contents of your
breeches pockets. Ten sous, indeed! Perhaps you'd
like me to lend 'em to yer?”
André smiled pleasantly.
“Did you think, my little man, that I was going to
offer you twenty thousand shiners ? ” asked he.
“Won again!” cried Toto; “I laid myself a new
hat that you weren't a fool, and I have collared the
stakes."
“Why do you think I am not a fool ?”.
“Because a fool would have begun by offering me
five francs and gone up slick to ten, while you began
at a modest figure.”
The painter smiled.
“But you were too old a bird to be caught like that,"
continued the lad; and as he spoke, he stopped, and
contracted his brow as if in deep perplexity. Of
course he was acquainted with the names, but ought
he to give them? Instantly he scented an enemy.
Harmless people did not usually ask questions of itin-
erant chestnut venders, and to open his mouth might
be to injure Mascarin, Beaumarchef, or the guileless
Tantaine.
This last thought determined the lad.
“Keep your ten sous, my pippin," said the boy;
“I'll tell you what you want to know all gratis and
for nothing, because I've taken a real fancy to the cut
of your mug. The tall chap was Mascarin, the fat un


266
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
Doctor Hortebise, and t'other-stop, let me think it
out in my knowledge box; ah! I have it, he was Ver-
minet.”
André was so delighted that, drawing from his
pocket a five-franc piece, he tossed it to the boy.
“Thanks, my noble lord,” said Chupin, and was
about to add something more in a similar vein, when
he glanced down the street. His look changed in an
instant, and he fixed his eyes upon the painter's face
with a very strange expression.
“What is the matter, my lad?” asked André, sur-
prised at this sudden change.
“Nothing," answered Chupin; “nothing at all; only
as you seem a decentish sort of chap, I should recom-
mend you to keep your wits about you, and to look
out for squalls.”
“Eh, what do you mean?”
“I mean—why—be careful, of course. Hang me
if I exactly know what I do mean. It is just an idea
that came to me all of a jump. But there, be off; I
ain't going to say another word.”
With much difficulty André repressed his astonish-
ment. He saw that this young scamp was the posses-
sor of many secrets which might be of inestimable
value to him; but he also saw that he was determined
to hold his tongue, and that it would at present be a
waste of time to try and get anything out of him;
and an empty cab passing at this moment, André
hailed it, and told the coachman to drive fast to the
Champs Elysées. In obedience to the warning that
he had just received from Toto, he did not give the
name of the café where he was to meet De Breulh, for
he made up his mind to be careful, yes, extremely
careful. He recollected the two odd whistles which


MASCARIN MOVES
271
for her crimes. Then it was that she felt all was lost,
and that she must go to her husband for aid, unless she
desired that copies of the stolen letters should be sent
to him; and in a little boudoir, adjoining Sabine's own
room, she opened her heart and told her husband all.
She performed it with all the skill of a woman who,
without descending to falsehood, contrives to conceal
the truth. But she could not hide the share that she
had taken, both in the death of the late Duke of
Champdoce and the disappearance of George de
Croisenois.
The Count's brain reeled. He called up to his mem-
ory what Diana had been when he first saw and loved
her at Laurebourg : how pure and modest she looked !
what virginal candor sat upon her brow! and yet she
was even then doing her best to urge on a son to mur-
der his father.
De Mussidan had had hideous doubts concerning the
relations of Norbert and Diana, both before and after
marriage; but his wife firmly denied this at the moment
when she was revealing the other guilty secrets of her
past life. He had believed that Sabine was not his
child, and now he had to reproach himself with the in-
difference he had displayed towards her.
He made no answer to the terrible revelation that
was poured into his ears; but when the Countess had
concluded, he rose and left the room, stretching out his
hands and grasping the walls for support, like a
drunken man.
The Count and Countess believed that Sabine had
slept through this interview, but they were mistaken,
for Sabine had heard all those fatal words—"ruin, dis-
honor, and despair !” At first she scarcely understood.
Were not these words merely the offspring of her de-


272 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
lirium? She strove to shake it off, but too soon she
knew that the whispered words were sad realities, and
she lay on her bed quivering with terror. Much of the
conversation escaped her, but she heard enough. Her
mother's past sins were to be exposed if the daughter
did not marry a man entirely unknown to her—the
Marquis de Croisenois. She knew that her torments
would not be of very long duration, for to part with
her love for André would be to part with life itself.
She made up her mind to live until she had saved her
parents' honor by the sacrifice of herself, and then she
would be free to accept the calm repose of the grave.
But the terrible revelation bore its fruits, for her
fever came back, and a relapse was the result. But
youth and a sound constitution gained the day, and
when she was convalescent her will was as strong as
ever.
Her first act was to write the letter to her lover
which had driven him to the verge of distraction; and
then, fearing lest her father might, in his agony and
remorse, be driven to some rash act, she went to him
and told him that she knew all.
“I never loved M. de Breulh,” said she with a piti-
ful smile, “and therefore the sacrifice is not so great
after all."
The Count was not for a moment the dupe of the
generous-souled girl, but he did not dare to brave the
scandal of the death of Montlouis, and still less the ex-
posure of his wife's conduct. Time was passing, how-
ever, and the miscreants in whose power they were
made no signs of life. Hortebise did not appear any
more, and there were moments when the miserable Di-
ana actually ventured to hope. “ Have they forgotten
us ? ” thought she.


274 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
ing the hand that hung placidly by his side, pressed her
lips tenderly to it.
“Forgive me, Octave!” she murmured. “Will you
not forgive me? I am a miserable wretch, and why
did not Heaven punish me for the sins that I have com-
mitted, and not make others expiate my offences ? ”
The Count put her gently aside. He suffered in-
tensely, and yet no word of reproach escaped his lips
against the woman who had ruined his whole life.
“And Sabine," she went on, “must she, a De Mussi-
dan, marry one of these wretched scoundrels? ”
Sabine was the only one in the room who preserved
her calmness; she had so schooled herself that her dis-
tress of mind was not apparent to the outward eye.
“Do not make yourselves miserable,” said she, with
a faint smile; “how do we know that M. de Croisenois
may not make me an excellent husband after all?”
The Count gazed upon his daughter with a look of
the fondest affection and gratitude.
"Dearest Sabine!” murmured he. Her fortitude
had restored his self-command. “Let us be outwardly
resigned," said he, “whatever our feelings may be.
Time may do much for us, and at the very church door
we may find means of escape.”


A CRUEL SLUR
275
CHAPTER XXVII.
A CRUEL SLUR.
FLORESTAN had conducted Tantaine to the sumptu-
ous library, in which the Count had received Masca-
rin's visit; and, to pass away the time, the old man
took a mental inventory of the contents of the room.
He tried the texture of the curtains, looked at the
handsome bindings of the books, and admired the mag.
nificent bronzes on the mantelpiece.
"Aha," muttered he, as he tried the springs of a
luxurious armchair, “everything is of the best, and
when matters are settled, I half think that I should
like a resting-place just like this "
He checked himself, for the door opened, and the
Count made his appearance, calm and dignified, but
very pale. Tantaine made a low bow, pressing his
greasy hat against his breast.
“Your humble servant to command,” said he.
The Count had come to a sudden halt.
“Excuse me," said he, “but did you send up a card
asking for an interview ?”
“I am not Mascarin certainly, but I used that highly
respectable gentleman's name, because I knew that my
own was totally unknown to you. I am Tantaine,
Adrien Tantaine.”
M. de Mussidan gazed with extreme surprise upon
the squalid individual before him. His mild and benev-
olent face inspired confidence, and yet he doubted him.
"I have come on the same business,” pursued the
old man. “I have been ordered to tell you that it
must be hurried on.”


276
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
The Count hastily closed the door and locked it; the
manner of this man made him feel even too plainly
the ignominy of his position.
“I understand," answered he. “But how is it that
you have come, and not the other one?”
“He intended to come, but at the last moment he
drew back; Mascarin, you see, has a great deal to lose,
while I ” He paused, and holding up the tattered
tails of his coat, turned round, as though to exhibit his
shabby attire. “All my property is on my back," con-
tinued he.
“ Then I can treat with you ?” asked the Count.
Tantaine nodded his head. “Yes, Count, I have the
missing leaves from the Baron's journal, and also, well
I suppose you know everything, all of your wife's
correspondence.”
“Enough," answered the Count, unable to hide his
disgust. “Sit down.”
“Now, Count, I will go to the point—are you going
to put the police on us?”.
“I have said that I would do nothing of the kind.”
“ Then we can get to business."
“Yes, if-
The old man shrugged his shoulders.
“There is no 'if' in the case," returned he. “We
state our conditions, for acceptance or rejection.”
These words were uttered in a tone of such extreme
insolence that the Count was strongly tempted to hurl
the extortionate scoundrel from the window, but he
contrived to restrain his passion.
“Let us hear the conditions then,” said he impa-
tiently.
Tantaine extracted from some hidden recess of his


A CRUEL SLUR
277
coat a much-worn pocketbook, and drew from it a
paper.
“Here are our conditions," returned he slowly.
“ The Count de Mussidan promises to give the hand
of his daughter to Henri Marquis de Croisenois. He
will give his daughter a wedding portion of six hun-
dred thousand francs, and promises that the marriage
shall take place without delay. The Marquis de Croise-
nois will be formally introduced at your house, and he
must be cordially received. Four days afterwards he
must be asked to dinner. On the fifteenth day from
that M. de Mussidan will give a grand ball in honor
of the signing of the marriage contract. The leaves
from the diary and the whole of the correspondence
will be handed to M. de Mussidan as soon as the civil
ceremony is completed.”
With firmly compressed lips and clenched hands,
the Count sat listening to these conditions.
“And who can tell me,” said he, “ that you will
keep your engagements, and that these papers will be
restored to me at all?”.
Tantaine looked at him with an air of pity.
“Your own good sense,” answered he. “ What
more could we expect to get out of you than your
daughter and your money ?”
The Count did not answer, but paced up and down
the room, eyeing the ambassador keenly, and endeavor-
ing to detect some weak point in his manner of cyni-
cism and audacity. Then speaking in the calm tone
of a man who had made up his mind, he said, —
“You hold me as in a vice, and I admit myself van-
quished. Stringent as your conditions are, I accept
them."


278
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“That is the right style of way to talk in,” remarked
Tantaine cheerfully.
“ Then,” continued the Count, with a ray of hope
gleaming in his face, “why should I give my daugh-
ter to De Croisenois at all?—surely this is utterly un-
necessary. What you want is simply six hundred thou-
sand francs; well, you can have them, and leave me
Sabine.” .
He paused and waited for the reply, believing that
the day was his; but he was wrong.
“That would not be the same thing at all,” an-
swered Tantaine. “We should not gain our ends by
such means.”
“I can do more," said the Count. “Give me six
months, and I will add a million to the sum I have
already offered.”
Tantaine did not appear impressed by the magnitude
of this offer. “I think,” remarked he, “that it will
be better to close this interview, which, I confess, is
becoming a little annoying. You agreed to accept the
conditions. Are you still in that mind?”
The Count bowed. He could not trust himself to
speak.
“Then,” went on Tantaine, “I will take my leave.
Remember, that as you fulfil your engagement, so we
will keep to ours."
He had laid his hand on the handle of the door,
when the Count said, -
“ Another word, if you please. I can answer for my-
self and Madame de Mussidan, but how about my
daughter ? "
Tantaine's face changed. “What do you mean?”
asked he.


A CRUEL SLUR
279
“My daughter may refuse to accept M. de Croise-
nois.”
“Why should she? He is good-looking, pleasant,
and agreeable.”
“Still she may refuse him.”
“If mademoiselle makes any objection,” said the old
man in peremptory accents, “ you must let me see her
for a few minutes, and after that you will have no
further difficulty with her.”
“Why, what could you have to say to my daugh-
ter?”
"I should say- ”.
“Well, what would you say?"
“I should say that if she loves any one, it is not
M. de Breulh.” He endeavored to pass through the
half-opened door, but the Count closed it violently.
"You shall not leave this room,” cried he, “ until
you have explained this insulting remark.”
"I had no intention of offending you,” answered
Tantaine humbly. “I only— " He paused, and
then, with an air of sarcasm which sat strangely upon
a person of his appearance, went on, “I am aware that
the heiress of a noble family may do many things with-
out having her reputation compromised, when girls in
a lower social grade would be forever lost by the
commission of any one of them; and I am sure if the
family of M. de Breulh knew that the young lady to
whom he was engaged had been in the habit of pass-
ing her afternoons alone with a young man in his
studio ”
He paused, and hastily drew a revolver, for it
seemed as if the Count were about to throw himself
upon him. “ Softly, softly, if you please,” cried he.


280
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“ Blows and insults are fatal mistakes. I have better
information than yourself, that is all. I have more
than ten times seen your daughter enter a house in
the Rue Tour d'Auvergne, and, asking for M. André,
creep silently up the staircase.”
The Count felt that he was choking. He tore off his
cravat, and cried wildly, “Proofs! give me proofs !
During the last five minutes Tantaine had shifted his
ground so skilfully that the heavy library table now
stood between himself and the Count, and he was com-
paratively safe behind this extemporized defence.
"Proofs ?” answered he. “Do you think that I
carry them about with me? In a week I could give
you the lovers' correspondence. That, you will say, is
too long to wait; but you can set your doubts at rest at
once. If you go to the address I will give you before
eight to-morrow morning, and enter the room occupied
by M. André, you will find the portrait of Mademoi-
selle Sabine carefully concealed from view behind
a green curtain, and a very good portrait it is.
I presume you will admit that it could not have been
executed without a sitting.”
“Leave this,” cried the Count,“ without a moment's
delay.”
Tantaine did not wait for a repetition of these words.
He passed through the doorway, and as soon as he was
outside he called out in cheerful accents, “Do not
forget the address, Number 45, Rue Tour d'Auvergne,
name of André, and mind and be there before eight
a.m."
The Count made a rush at him on hearing this last
insult, but he was too late, for Tantaine slammed the
door, and was in the hall before the infuriated master
of the house could open it. Tantaine had resumed all
d.111.


THE TEMPTER
281
his airs of humility, and took off his hat to the foot-
men as he descended the steps. “Yes,” muttered he,
as he walked along, “ the idea was a happy one. André
knows that he is watched, and will be careful; and now
that M. de Mussidan is aware that his sweet, pure
daughter has had a lover, he will be only too happy to
accept the Marquis de Croisenois as his son-in-law.”
Tantaine believed that Sabine was more culpable than
she really had been, for the idea of pure and honorable
love had never entered his brain.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE TEMPTER.
By this time Tantaine was in the Champs Elysées,
and stared anxiously around. “If my Toto makes no
mistake,” muttered he,“ surely my order was plain
enough.”
The old man got very cross as he at last perceived
the missing lad conversing with the proprietor of a pie-
stall, having evidently been doing a little jawing with
him.
“Toto,” he called, “ Toto, come here.”
Toto Chupin heard him, for he looked round, but he
did not move, for he was certainly much interested in
the conversation he was carrying on. Tantaine shouted
again, and this time more angrily than before, and
Toto, reluctantly leaving his companion, came slowly
up to his patron.
“You have been a nice time getting here," said the
lad sulkily. “I was just going to cut it. Ain't you


282
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
well that you make such a row? If you ain't, I'd bet-
ter go for a doctor."
“I am in a tremendous hurry, Toto.”
“Yes, and so is the postman when he is behind
time. I'm busy too.”
“What, with the man you have just left?"
“ Yes; he is a sharper chap than I am. How much
do you earn every day, Daddy Tantaine? Well, that
chap makes his thirty or forty francs every night, and
does precious little for it. I should like a business
like that, and I think that I shall secure one soon."
“Have patience. I thought that you were going into
business with those two young men you were drink-
ing beer with at the Grand Turk?”
Toto uttered a shrill cry of anger at these words.
“ Business with them?” shrieked he; “they are regu-
lar clever night thieves.”
“Have they done you any harm, my poor lad?”
“Yes; they have utterly ruined me. Luckily, I saw
Mascarin yesterday, and he set me up in the hot-chest-
nut line. He ain't a bad one, is Mascarin.”
Tantaine curled his lips disdainfully. “Not a bad
fellow, I dare say, as long as you don't ask him for
anything."
Tato was so surprised at hearing Tantaine abuse
Mascarin, that he was unable to utter a word.
“Ah, you may look surprised,” continued the old
man, “but when a man is rolling in riches, and leaves
an old friend to starve, then he is not what I call a
real good fellow. Now, Toto, you are a bright lad,
and so I don't mind letting you know that I am only
waiting for a good chance to drop Mascarin, and set
up on my own account. Work for yourself, my boy."


THE TEMPTER
283
“I know that; but it is a good deal easier to say than
to do.”
“You have tried then?”
“Yes, I have; but I came to grief over it. You
know all about it as well as I do, for don't tell me you
didn't hear every word I said that night you were
hunting up Caroline Schimmel. However, I'll tell you.
One day when I saw a lady who looked rather nervous
get out of a cab, I followed her. I was decently
togged out, so I rang at the door. I was so sure that
I was going to make a haul that I would not have
taken ninety-nine francs for the hundred that I ex-
pected to make. Well, I rang, a girl opened the door,
and in I went. What an ass I made of myself! I
found a great brute of a man there, who thrashed me
within an inch of my life, and then kicked me down-
stairs. See, he made his mark rather more plainly than
I liked.” And removing his cap, the boy showed sev-
eral bruises about his forehead.
During this conversation Tantaine and the lad had
been walking slowly up the Champs Elysées, and had
by this time arrived just opposite M. Gandelu's house,
where André was at work. Tantaine sat down on a
bench.
“Let us rest a bit,” said he; “ I am tired out; and
now let me tell you, my lad, that your tale only shows
me that it is experience you want. Now, I have any
amount of that, and I was really the prime mover in
most of Mascarin's schemes. If I were to start on my
own account, I should be driving in my carriage in
twelve months. The only thing against my success is
my age, for I am getting to be an old man. Why,
even now I have a matter in my hands which is sim-


284 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
ply splendid. I have had half the money down, but I
want a smart young fellow to pull it through.”
“Why couldn't I be the smart young fellow ?”
asked Toto.
Tantaine shook his head. “You are as much too
young as I am too old,” answered he. “At your age
you are too apt to be frightened, and would shrink
back at the critical time. Besides, I have a con-
science.”
“And so have I,” exclaimed Toto; “ and it's grown
like your own, old man; it can be stretched for miles
and folded up into nothing."
“Well, we may be able to do something," returned
Tantaine, as, drawing out a ragged check pocket-
handkerchief, he wiped his glasses.
“ Listen to me, my lad; I'll put what we call a sup-
posititious case to you. You hate those two fellows
who have robbed you, for I suppose that is what you
meant; well, suppose you knew that they were at work
all day on a high scaffold like that one opposite to us,
what would you do?”
Toto scratched his head, and remarked after a
pause,-
“ If that crack-jawed idea you talk of was true,"
answered he, “those gay lads might as well make their
wills, for I'd step up the scaffolding at night and just
saw the planks that they are in the habit of clapping
their toes on, half through, and when one of the mates
stepped on it, why, there would be a bit of a smash,
eh, Daddy Tantaine?”
“Not so bad, not so bad for a lad of your years,"
said the old man with an approving smile.
Toto's bosom swelled with pride.
“ Besides," he continued, “I would arrange matters


THE TEMPTER
285
so well that not a soul would think that I had done the
trick.”
“The more I hear you speak, Chupin,” answered
Tantaine," the more I believe you are the lad I want,
and I am sure that we shall make heaps of money to-
gether.”
“I am cock sure of that too.”
“ You can use carpenters' tools, I think you once told
me?"
“Yes.”
“Well,” continued Tantaine, “ let me tell you then
that I know an old man with any amount of money,
and there is a fellow whom he hates and detests, a
young chap who ran off with the girl he loved.”
“ The old bloke must have been jolly wild.”
“Well, to tell the truth, he wasn't a bit pleased.
Now it so happens that this gay young dog spends ten
hours a day at least on that very scaffolding opposite
to us. The old fellow, who has his head screwed on
the right way, had the very same idea as yours, but he
is too old and too stout to do the trick for himself; and,
to cut the matter short, he would give five thousand
francs to the persons who would carry out his idea.
Just think, two thousand francs for a few cuts of a
saw!”
The boy was violently agitated, but Tantaine pre-
tended not to notice it.
“First, my lad," said he, “I must explain to you in
what measure the old gentleman's plans are different
from yours. If we did not take care, some other poor
devil might break his neck, but I have hit on a dodge
to avoid all this.”
“I ain't curious, but I should like to hear it.”
Tantaine smiled blandly.


286
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“ Listen! Do you see high up that little shed built
of planks? That is used by the carvers and stone-cut-
ters. Well, this little house, a couple of hundred feet
above us, has a kind of a window; well, if this window
and the planks below it were cut nearly through, any
one leaning against it would be very likely to fall into
the street and perhaps to hurt himself.”
• Chupin nodded.
“Now, suppose," went on Tantaine, “ that the en-
emy of our old gentleman was in that little shed, all
at once he hears a woman shriek, ‘Help! it is I you
love; help me!' what would this young fellow do?
Why, he would recognize the voice, rush to the win-
dow, lean out, and as the woodwork and supports had
been cut away, he would — Well, do you see now?”
Chupin hesitated for a moment.
“I don't say I won't," muttered he;" but, look here,
will the old chap pay down smart?”
“Yes, and besides, did I not tell you that he had
given half down?"
The boy's eyes glistened as the old man unpinned
the tattered lining of his pocket, and holding the pin
between his teeth, pulled out the banknotes, each one
for a thousand francs. Chupin's heart rose at the
sight of this wealth.
“ Is one of those for me?” asked he. Tantaine held
the note towards the boy, who shuddered at the touch
of the crisp paper and kissed the precious object in a
paroxysm of pleasure. He then started from his seat,
and regardless of the astonishment of the passers-by,
executed a wild dance of triumph.
All was soon settled. Toto was to creep into the
unfinished building by night, and not to leave it until
he had completed his work. Tantaine, who had a


THE TEMPTER
287
thought for everything, told the boy what sort of a saw
to employ, and gave him the address of a man who
supplied the best class instruments.
“You must remember, my dear lad,” said he, “not
to leave behind you any traces of your work which
may cause suspicion. One grain of sawdust on the
floor might spoil the whole game. Take a dark lan-
tern with you, grease your saw, and rasp out the tooth-
nicks of the saw when you have finished your work.”
Toto listened to the old man in surprise; he had
never thought that he was of so practical a turn. He
promised that he would be careful, and imagining that
he had received all his directions, rose to leave; but
the old man still detained him.
“Here,” said he, “ suppose you tell me a little about
Caroline Schimmel. You told Beaumarchef that she
said I had made her scream, and that when she caught
me, I should have a bad time of it, eh?”
“You weren't my partner then," returned the lad
with an impudent laugh; “and I wanted to give you a
bit of a fright. The truth is, that you made the poor
old girl so drunk that she has had to go to the hos-
pital.”
Tantaine was overjoyed at this news, and, rising
from his seat, said, “Where are you living now?”
“Nowhere in particular. Yesterday I slept in a
stable, but there isn't room for all my furniture there,
so I must shift.”
“Would you like to have my room for a day or
two?” asked Tantaine, chuckling at the boy's jest. “I
have moved from there, but the attic is mine for an-
other fortnight yet.”
" I'm gone; where is it?"
“ You know well enough, in the Hotel de Perou, Rue


THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
him, a young girl-Flavia, the daughter of Martin
Rigal, the banker.
The keen eyes of Tantaine showed him that Flavia's
visit had not been of long duration. She had removed
her hat and jacket, and was holding in her hand a
piece of fancy work.
“ Whom do you wish to see, sir?" asked she.
The old man strove to speak, but his lips would not
frame a single sentence. A band of steel seemed to
be compressing his throat, and he appeared like a
man about to be seized with an apoplectic fit.
Flavia gazed upon the shabby-looking visitor with
an expression of intense disgust. It seemed to her
that she had seen him somewhere; in fact, there was
an inexplicable manner about him which entirely puz-
zled her.
"I want to speak to M. Paul,” said the old man in
a low, hoarse whisper;" he is expecting me.”
“Then come in; but just now his doctor is with
him.”
She threw open the door more widely, and stepped
back, so that the greasy garments of the visitor might
not touch her dress. He passed her with an abject
bow, and crossed the little sitting-room with the air of
a man who perfectly understands his way. He did not
knock at the door of the bedroom, but went straight
in; there a singular spectacle at once arrested his at-
tention. Paul, with a very pale face, was seated on
the bed, while Hortebise was attentively examining
his bare shoulder. The whole of Paul's right arm and
shoulder was a large open wound, which seemed to
have been caused by a burn or scald, and must have
been extremely painful. The doctor was bending over
him, applying a cooling lotion to the injured place


THE TEMPTER
291
with a small piece of sponge. He turned sharply
round on Daddy Tantaine's entrance; and so accus-
tomed were these men to read each other's faces at a
glance that Hortebise saw at once what had hap-
pened; for Tantaine's expression plainly said, “Is Fla-
via mad to be here?” while the eyes of Hortebise an-
swered, “ She may be, but I could not help it."
Paul turned, too, and greeted the old man with an
exclamation of delight.
“Come here,” said he merrily, “and just see to
what a wretched state I have been reduced between
the doctor and M. Mascarin.”
Tantaine examined the wound carefully. “Are you
quite sure,” asked he, “ that not only will it deceive the
Duke, who will see but with our eyes, but also those
of his wife, and perhaps of his medical man?”
“We will hoodwink the lot of them.”
“And how long must we wait," asked the old man,
“ until the place skins over, and assumes the appear-
ance of having been there from childhood ?”
“In a month's time Paul can be introduced to the
Duke de Champdoce.”
“Are you speaking seriously?”
“ Listen to me. The scar will not be quite natural
then, but I intend to subject it to various other modes
of treatment.”
The dressing was now over, and Paul's shirt being
readjusted, he was permitted to lie down again.
"I am quite willing to remain here forever,” said
he, “ as long as I am allowed to retain the services of
the nurse that I have in the next room, and who, I
am sure, is waiting with the greatest eagerness for
your departure.”
Hortebise fumed, and cast a glance at Paul which


294
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
giving way to passion? You cannot help this; it is
too late now. Besides, even if you could, you would
not, as you know very well, indeed!”
The old man was moving his spectacles, not to wipe
his glasses, but his eyes.
“Ah!” moaned he, “now I can enter into the feel-
ings of M. de Mussidan when I proved to him that his
daughter had a lover. I have been hard and pitiless,
and I am cruelly punished.”
“My old friend, you must not attach too much im-
portance to what you have heard. Paul is a mere
boy, and, of course, a boaster.”
“ Paul is a miserable cowardly dog," answered the
old man in a fierce undertone. “ Paul does not love
the girl as she loves him; but what he says is true, only
too true, I can feel. Between her father and her lover
she would not hesitate for a moment. Ah! unhappy
girl, what a terrible future lies before her.”
He stopped himself abruptly.
“I cannot speak to her myself,” resumed he; “ do
you, doctor, strive and make her have reason.”
Hortebise shrugged his shoulders. “I will see
what my powers of oratory can do," answered he;
" but you are not quite yourself to-day. Remember
that a chance word will betray the secret of our lives.”
“Go at once, and I swear to you that, happen what
may, I will be calm.”.
The doctor went back into Paul's room, while Tan-
taine sat down on the topmost stair, his face buried in
his hands.
Mademoiselle Flavia was just going to Paul, when
the doctor again appeared.
“What, back again ?” asked she petulantly. “I
thought that you had been far away by this time.”


THE TAFILA COPPER MINES, LTD. 295
"I want to say something to you," answered he,
“and something of a rather serious nature. You must
not elevate those charming eyebrows. I see you guess
what I am going to say, and you are right. I am
come to tell you that this is not the proper place for
Mademoiselle Rigal.”
“I know that.”
This unexpected reply, made with the calmest air in
the world, utterly disconcerted the smiling doctor.
“ It seems to me " began he.
"That I ought not to be here; but then, you see,
I place duty before cold, worldly dictates. Paul is
very ill, and has no one to take care of him except
his affianced bride; for has not my father given his
consent to our union?”
“Flavia, listen to the experience of a man of the
world. The nature of men is such that they never
forgive a woman for compromising her reputation,
even though it be in their own favor. Do you know
what people will say twenty-four hours after your
marriage? Why, that you had been his mistress for
weeks before, and that it was only the knowledge
of that fact that inclined your father to consent to the
alliance."
Flavia's face grew crimson. “Very well,” said she,
“I will obey, and never say again that I was obsti-
nate; but let me say one word to Paul, and then I will
leave him.”
The doctor retired, not guessing that this obedience
arose from a sudden suspicion which had arisen in
Flavia's mind. “ It is done,” said he, as he rejoined
Tantaine on the stairs; " let us hasten, for she will
follow us at once."
By the time that Tantaine got into the street, he


296
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
seemed to have recovered a certain amount of his
self-command. “We have succeeded,” said he, “but
we shall have to work hard, and this marriage must be
hastened by every means in our power. It can be cele-
brated now without any risk, for in twelve hours the
only obstacle that stands between that youth there and
the colossal fortune of the Champdoce will have van-
ished away.”
Though he had expected something of the kind, the
face of the doctor grew very pale.
“What, André ? ” faltered he.
“André is in great danger, doctor, and may not
survive to-morrow, and a portion of the work neces-
sary to this end will be done to-night by our young
friend Toto Chupin.”
"By that young scamp? Why, only the other day
you laughed when I suggested employing him.”
“I shall this time kill two birds with one stone.
Once an investigation is made—let us speak plainly-
into André's death, there will be some inquiry made as
to a certain window frame that has been sawed
through, and suspicion will fall upon Toto Chupin,
who will have been seen lurking about the spot. It
will be proved that he purchased a saw, and that he
changed just before a note for one thousand francs;
he will be found in hiding in a garret in the Hotel de
Perou.”
The doctor looked aghast. “Are you mad?” cried
he.“ Toto will accuse you."
“Very likely, but by that time poor old Tantaine
will be dead and buried. Then Mascarin will disap-
pear, our faithful Beaumarchef will be in the United
States, and we can afford to laugh at the police.”
“ It seems like a success," said the doctor, “but


THE TAFILA COPPER MINES, LTD. 297
push on for mercy's sake; all these delays and fluctu-
ations will make me seriously ill.”
The two worthy associates held this conversation
concealed in a doorway, anxious to be sure that Fla-
via had kept her promise. In a brief space of time
they saw her come out of the house and move in the
direction of her father's bank.
“Now," said Tantaine, “I can go in peace, doc-
tor; farewell for the present;” and without waiting
for a reply he was walking rapidly away when he was
stopped by Beaumarchef, who came up breathless and
barred his passage.
“I was looking for you,” cried he; "the Marquis
de Croisenois is in the office and is swearing at me like
anything."
“Go back to the office and tell the Marquis that the
master will soon be with him;” and, thus speaking,
Tantaine disappeared down a court by the side of
Martin Rigal's house.
The Marquis was striding up and down the office,
every now and then discharging a rumbling cannonade
of oaths. "Fine business people," remarked he, "to
make an appointment and then not to keep it!” He
checked himself; for the door of the inner office
slowly opened, and Mascarin appeared on the thresh-
old. “Punctuality," said he,“ does not consist in
coming before, but at the time appointed.”
The Marquis was cowed at once, and followed
Mascarin into the sanctum and watched him with curi-
ous gaze as the redoubtable head of the association
seemed to be searching for something among the pa-
pers on his desk. When Mascarin had found what
he was in search of, he turned and addressed the
Marquis.


298 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
"I desired to see you,” said he, “with reference to
the great financial enterprise which you are to launch
almost immediately.” .
“Yes; I understand that we must discuss it, fully
understand it, and feel our way.”
Mascarin uttered a contemptuous whistle.
“Do you think," asked he," that I am the kind of
person to stand and wait while you feel your way?
because if you do, the sooner you undeceive yourself
the better. Things that I take in hand are carried out
like a flash of lightning. You have been playing while
I and Catenac have been working, and nothing remains
to be done but to act.”
“Act! What do you mean?”
“I mean that offices have been taken in the Rue
Vivienne, that the articles of association have been
drawn up, the directors chosen, and the Company reg-
istered. The printer brought the prospectus here yes-
terday; you can begin sending them out to-morrow."
“ But "
"Read it for yourself," said Mascarin, handing a
printed paper to him. “Read, and then, perhaps, you
will be convinced.”
Croisenois, in a dazed sort of manner, accepted the
paper and read it aloud.
COPPER MINES OF TAFILA, ALGERIA.
Chairman: THE MARQUIS HENRI DE CROISENOIS.
Capital: Four Million Francs.
This Company does not appeal to that rash class of
speculators who are willing to incur great risks for the
sake of obtaining for a time heavy dividends.
The shareholders in the Tafila Copper Mining Com-
pany, Limited, must not look for a dividend of more
than six, or at the utmost seven, per cent.


THE TAFILA COPPER MINES, LTD. 299
“Well,” interrupted Mascarin, “what do you think.
of this for a beginning?”
“It seems fair enough," answered De Croisenois,
“but suppose others than those whose names you have
in your black list take shares, what do you say we are
to do then?”
“We should simply decline to allot shares to them,
that is all. See the Article XX. in the Articles of As-
sociation. “The Board of Directors may decline to
allot shares to applicants without giving any reason for
so doing.'”
"And suppose,” continued the Marquis, “that one
of our own people dispose of his share, may we not
find our new shareholder a thorn in our side?”
“ Article XXI. 'No transfer of stock is valid, un-
less passed by the Board of Directors, and recorded
in the books of the Company,'” read out Mas-
carin.
“And how will the game be brought to a conclu--
sion?”
"Easily enough. You will advertise one morning
that two-thirds of the capital having been unsuccess-
fully sunk in the enterprise, you are compelled to ap-
ply for a winding-up of the Company under Article
XVII. Six months afterwards you will announce that
the liquidation of the Company has, after all expenses
have been paid, left no balance whatsoever. Then you
wash your hands of the whole thing, and the matter is
at an end.”
Croisenois felt that he had no ground to stand upon,
but he ventured on one more objection.
" It seems rather a strange thing to launch this en-
terprise at the present moment. May it not interfere
with my marriage prospects? and may not the Count


THE VEILED PORTRAIT 301
opportunity to assassinate him? But even this knowl-
edge did not make him hesitate for an instant, and all
his caution was fully exercised, for he felt that should
he perish, Sabine would be inevitably lost. On her
account he acted with a prudence which was certainly
not one of his general characteristics. He was quite
aware that he might put himself under the protection
of the police, but this he knew would be to imperil
the honor of the Mussidan family. He was sure that
with time and patience he should be able to unravel
the plots of the villains who were at work. But he
had not time to do so by degrees. No, he must make
a bold dash at once. The hideous sacrifice of which
Sabine was to be the victim was being hurried on,
and it seemed to him as if his very existence was be-
ing carried away by the hours as they flitted by. He
went over recent events carefully one by one, and he
strove to piece them together as a child does the por-
tions of a dissected map. He wanted to find out the
one common interest that bound all these plotters to-
gether—Verminet, Van Klopen, Mascarin, Hortebise,
and Martin Rigal. As he submitted all this strange
Gaston de Gandelu came across his mind.
"Is it not curious,” thought he, “ that this unhappy
boy should be the victim of the cruel band of mis-
creants who are trying to destroy us? It is strange,
very strange.”
Suddenly he started to his feet, for a fresh idea had
flashed across his brain—a thought that was as yet
but crude and undefined, but which seemed to bear
the promise of hope and deliverance. It seemed to him
that the affair of young Gandelu was closely connected
with his own, that they were part and parcel of the


302
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
same dark plot, and that these bills with their forged
acceptance had more to do with him than he had ever
imagined. How it was that he and Gaston could be
connected he could not for a moment guess; yet now
he would have cheerfully sworn that such was the
case. Who was it that had informed the father of the
son's conduct? Why, Catenac. Who had advised that
proceedings should be taken against Rose, alias Zora?
Why, Catenac again; and this same man, in addition to
acting for Gandelu, it seems, was also the confidential
solicitor of the Marquis de Croisenois and Verminet.
Perhaps he had only obeyed their instructions. All
this was very vague and unsatisfactory, but it might
be something to go upon, and who could say what
conclusion careful inquiry might not lead him to ? and
André determined to carry on his investigations, and
endeavor to find the hidden links that connected this
chain of rascality together. He had taken up a pencil
with the view of making a few notes, when he heard
a knock at his door. He glanced at the clock; it was
not yet nine.
“ Come in,” cried he as he rose.
The door was thrown open, and the young artist
started as he recognized in his early visitor the father
of Sabine. It was after a sleepless night that the
Count had decided to take the present step. He was
terribly agitated, but had had time to prepare himself
for this all-important interview.
“You will, I trust, pardon me, sir," said he," for
making such an early call upon you, but I thought
that I should be sure to find you at this hour, and I
much wanted to see you.”
André bowed.
In the space of one brief instant a thousand sup-


THE VEILED PORTRAIT
303
positions, each one more unlikely than the other,
coursed through his brain. Why had the Count
called? Who could have given him his address? And
was the visit friendly or hostile ?
“I am a great admirer of paintings," began the
Count, “and one of my friends upon whose taste I
can rely has spoken to me in the warmest terms of
your talent. This I trust will explain the liberty I
have taken. Curiosity drove me to
He paused for a moment, and then added, -
“My name is the Marquis de Bevron."
The concealment of the Count's real name showed
André that the visit was not entirely a friendly one,
and André replied, —
“I am only too pleased to receive your visit. Un-
fortunately just now I have nothing ready, only a
few rough sketches in short. Would you like to see
them?”
The Count replied eagerly in the affirmative. He
was terribly embarrassed under his fictitious name, and
shrank before the honest, open gaze of the young ar-
tist, and his mental disturbance was completed by see-
ing in one corner of the room the picture covered with
a green cloth, which Tantaine had alluded to. It was
evident that the old villain had told the truth, and that
his daughter's portrait was concealed behind this wrap-
per. She had evidently been here-had spent hours
here, and whose fault was it? She had but listened
to the voice of her heart, and had sought that affection
abroad which she was unable to obtain at home. As
the Count gazed upon the young man before him, he
was forced to admit that Mademoiselle Sabine had
not fixed her affections on an unworthy object, for
at the very first glance he had been struck with the


308 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
in. With extreme surprise, the young artist recog-
nized the beautiful features of Rose, alias Zora de
Chantemille, Gaston de Gandelu followed her, and at
once began,-
“Here we are,” said he, “all right again. Did you
expect to see us?”
“Not in the least.”
“Ah! well, it is a little surprise of the governor's.
On my word, I really will be a dutiful son for the
future. To-day, the good old boy came into my room,
and said, “This morning I took the necessary steps to
release the person in whom you are interested. Go
and meet her.' What do you think of that? So off
I ran to find Zora, and here we are.”
André did not pay much attention to Gaston, but
was engaged in watching Zora, who was looking
round the studio. She went up to Sabine's portrait,
and was about to draw the curtain, when André ex-
claimed, -
"Excuse me," said he; “I must put this picture to
dry.” And as the portrait stood on a movable easel,
he wheeled it into the adjoining room.
“And now,” said Gaston, “I want you to come and
breakfast with us to celebrate Zora's happy release."
“I am much obliged to you, but it is impossible. I
must get on with my work.”
“Yes, yes; work is an excellent thing, but just now
you must go and dress.”
“I assure you that it is quite out of the question.
I cannot leave the studio yet.”
Gaston paused for a moment in deep thought.
“I have it,” said he triumphantly. “You will not
come to breakfast; then breakfast shall come to you.
I am off to order it.”





GASTON'S DILEMMA
309
André ran after him, but Gaston was too quick, and
he returned to the studio in anything but an amiable
temper. Zora noticed his evident annoyance.
“He always goes on in this absurd way,” said she,
with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, “and thinks him-
self so clever and witty, bah!”
Her tone disclosed such contempt for Gaston that
André looked at her in perplexed surprise.
“What do you look so astonished at? It is easy to
see you do not know much of him. All his friends
are just like him; if you listen to them for half an
hour at a stretch, you get regularly sick. When I
think of the terrible evenings that I have spent in
their company, I feel ready to die with yawning ;"
and as she spoke, she suited the action to the word.
“ Ah! if he really loved me!” added she.
" Love you! Why, he adores you."
Zora made a little gesture of contempt which Toto
Chupin might have envied.
“Do you think so ?” said she. “Do you know what
it is he loves in me? When people pass me they cry
out, “Isn't she good style?' and then the idiot is as
pleased as Punch; but if I had on a cotton gown, he
would think nothing of me."
Rose had evidently learned a good deal, as her.
beauty had never been so radiant. She was one
glow of health and strength.
“Then my name was not good enough for him,"
she went on. “His aristocratic lips could not bring
themselves to utter such a common name as Rose, so
he christened me Zora, a regular puppy dog's name.
He has plenty of money, but money is not everything
after all. Paul had no money, and yet I loved him a
thousand times better. On my word, I have almost


312
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
The waiters had now retired, and Gaston urged his
friends to take their places at the table, and all seemed
merry as a marriage bell; but many a gay com-
mencement has a stormy ending.
Gaston, whose shallow brain could not stand the
copious draughts of wine with which he washed down
his repast, began all at once to overwhelm Zora with
bitter reproaches at her not being able to comprehend
how a man like him, who was destined to play a seri-
ous part in society, could have been led away, as he had
been, by a person like her.
Gaston had a tongue which was never at a loss
either to praise or blame, and Zora was equally ready
to retort, and defended herself with such acrimony
that the lad, knowing himself to be in fault, entirely
lost the small remnant of temper which he still pos-
sessed, and dashed out of the room, declaring that he
never wished to set eyes upon Zora again, and that she
might keep all the presents that he had lavished upon
her for all he cared.
His departure was hailed with delight by André,
who, now that he was left alone with Zora, hoped to
derive some further information from her, and espe-
cially a distinct description of Paul, whom he felt that
he must now reckon among his adversaries. But his
hopes were destined to be frustrated, for Zora was so
filled with anger and excitement that she refused to
listen to another word; and putting on her hat and
mantle, with scarcely a glance at the mirror, rushed
out of the studio with the utmost speed, declaring
that she would seek out Paul, and make him revenge
the insults that Gaston had put on her.
All this passed so rapidly that the young painter
felt as if a tornado had passed through his humble


GASTON'S DILEMMA
313
dwelling; but as peace and calm returned, he began to
see that Providence had directly interposed in his
favor, and had sent Rose and Gaston to his place to
furnish him with fresh and important facts. All that
Rose had said, incomplete as her statement was, had
thrown a ray of light upon an intrigue which, up till
now, had been shaded in the thickest gloom. The
relations of Paul with Mascarin explained why Cate-
nac had been so anxious to have Rose imprisoned, and
also seemed to hint vaguely at the reason for the ex-
traction of the forged signatures from the simple
Gaston. What could be the meaning of the Company
started by De Croisenois at the very moment when he
was about to celebrate his union with Sabine ?
André desired to see the advertisement of the Com-
pany for himself; and without stopping to change his
blouse, ran downstairs to the corner of the street,
where Gaston had told him that the announcement of
the Company was placarded up. He found it there, in
a most conspicuous position, with all its advantages
most temptingly set forth. Nothing was wanting;
and there was even a woodcut of Tafila, in Algiers,
which represented the copper mines in full working
operation; while at the top, the name of the chairman,
the Marquis de Croisenois, stood out in letters some
six inches in height.
André stood gazing at this wonderful production for
fully five minutes, when all at once a gleam of pru-
dence flashed across his mind.
"I am a fool,” said he to himself. “How do I
know how many watchful eyes are now fixed on me,
reading on my countenance my designs regarding this
matter and its leading spirit?”
Upon his return to his room, he sat 'for more than


M. LECOQ
317
Rose with him was to deprive himself of a great ele-
ment of success; and to permit him to kill himself
was, of course, out of the question.
"Just attend to me," said he at last; "I have an
idea which I will tell you as soon as we are out of this
house; but for reasons which are too long to go into
at present it is necessary for me to get into the street
without going through the door. You will, therefore,
go away, and as the clock strikes twelve you will ring
at the gateway of 29, Rue de Laval. When it is
opened, ask some trivial question of the porter; and
when you leave, take care that you do not close the
gate. I shall be in the garden of the house and will
slip out and join you.”
The plan succeeded admirably, and in ten minutes
Gaston and André were walking along the boulevards.
CHAPTER XXXII.
M. LECOQ.
The Marquis de Croisenois lived in a fine new house
on the Boulevard Malesherbes near the church of St.
Augustine, and in a suite of rooms the rental of which
was four thousand francs per annum. He had col-
lected together sufficient relics of his former splendor
to dazzle the eyes of the superficial observer. The
apartment and the furniture stood in the name of his
body-servant, while his horse and brougham were by
the same fiction supposed to be the property of his
coachman, for even in the midst of his ruin the Mar-
quis de Croisenois could not go on foot like common
people.


318 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
The Marquis had two servants only in his modest
establishment-a coachman, who did a certain amount
of indoor work, and a valet, who knew enough of
cookery to prepare a bachelor breakfast. This valet
Mascarin had seen once, and the man had then pro-
duced so unpleasant an impression on the astute pro-
prietor of the Servants' Registry Office that he had
set every means at work to discover who he was and
from whence he came. Croisenois said that he had
taken him into his service on the recommendation of
an English baronet of his acquaintance, a certain Sir
Richard Wakefield. The man was a Frenchman, but
he had resided for some time in England, for he spoke
that language with tolerable fluency. André knew
nothing of these details, but he had heard of the ex-
istence of the valet from M. de Breulh, when he had
asked where the Marquis lived.
At eight o'clock on the morning after he had sur-
reptitiously left his home in the manner described,
André took up his position in a small wine-shop not
far from the abode of the Marquis de Croisenois. He
had done this designedly, for he knew enough of the
manner and customs of Parisian society to know that
this was the hour usually selected by domestics in
fashionable quarters to come out for a gossip while
their masters were still in bed. André had more con-
fidence in himself than heretofore, for he had suc-
ceeded in saving Gaston; and these were the means he
had employed. After much trouble, and even by the
use of threats, he had persuaded the boy to return to
his father's house. He had gone with him; and though
it was two in the morning, he had not hesitated to
arouse M. Gandelu, senior, and tell him how his son


320
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
of course, among the number, would come there in the
course of the morning; so that here he could get into
conversation with them, offer them a glass of wine,
and, perhaps, get some information from them. The
room was large and airy, and was. full of customers,
most of whom were servants. André was racking his
brain for a means of getting into conversation with
the proprietor, when two new-comers entered the
room. These men were in full livery, while all the
other servants had on morning jackets. As soon as
they entered, an old man, with a calm expression of
face, who was struggling perseveringly with a tough
beefsteak at the same table as that by which André
was seated, observed, -
“Ah! here comes the De Croisenois' lot.”
“If they would only sit here,” thought André,“ by
the side of this fellow, who evidently knows them, I
could hear all they said."
By good luck they did so, begging that they might
be served at once, as they were in a tremendous
hurry.
“What is the haste this morning ?” asked the old
man who had recognized them.
“I have to drive the master to his office, for he has
one now. He is chairman of a Copper Mining Com-
pany, and a fine thing it is, too. If you have any
money laid by, M. Benoit, this is a grand chance for
you."
Benoit shook his head gravely.
“All is not gold that glitters,” said he sententiously;
“nor, on the other hand, are things as bad as they
are painted.”
Benoit was evidently a prudent man, and was not
likely to commit himself.


322 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
nois enter his carriage, and so he lingered, ordering
another glass of brandy as an excuse.
He had just been served, when a man, whose dress
very much resembled his own, lounged into the wine-
shop. He was a tall, clumsily built fellow, with an in-
solent expression upon his beardless face. His coat
and cap were in an equally dilapidated condition; and
in the squeaky voice of the rough, he ordered a plate
of beef and half a bottle of wine, and, as he brushed
past André, upset his glass of brandy. The artist
made no remark, though he felt quite sure that this
act was intentional, as the fellow laughed impudently
when he saw the damage that he had done. When his
breakfast was served, he carelessly spit upon André's
boots. The insult was so apparent that André began to
reflect.
“ Had he not succeeded in eluding his spies, as he
thought that he had done? and was it not quite possi-
ble that this man had been sent to pick a quarrel with
him, and deal him a disabling, or even a fatal blow?”
Prudence counselled him to leave the place at once,
but he felt that he could not go until he had found out
the real truth. There seemed to be but little doubt on
the matter, however; for as the fellow cut up his meat,
he jerked every bit of skin and gristle into his neigh-
bor's lap; then, after finishing up his wine, he managed
to upset the few drops remaining on to André's arm
and shoulder. This was the finishing stroke.
" Please, remember,” remarked André calmly, “ that
there is some one at the table besides yourself.”
“Do you think I'm blind, mate?” returned the fel-
low brutally. “Mind your own business, or— "
And to conclude the sentence, he shook his fist threat-
eningly in the young man's face.


M. LECOQ
323
André started to his feet, and, with a well-directed
blow in the chest, sent the fellow rolling under the
table.
At the sound of the scuffle, the card-players turned
round, and saw André standing erect, with quivering
lips and eyes flashing with rage, while his antagonist
was lying on the floor among the overturned chairs.
“ Come, come! No squabbling here!” remarked
one of the players.
The fellow scrambled to his feet, and made a sav-
age rush at the young man, who, using his right foot
skilfully, tripped his antagonist up, and sent him again
rolling on the ground. It was most adroitly done, and
secured the applause of the lookers-on, who now com-
plained no longer, and were evidently interested in the
scene.
Again the rough came up, but André contented him-
self with standing on the defensive. Some tables, a
stool, and a glass were injured, and at last the pro-
prietor came upon the scene of action.
“Get out of this,” cried he, "and take care that I
don't see your faces here again.”
At these words, the rough burst out into a torrent
of foul language.
“Don't put up with his cheek,” said one of the cus-
tomers; “ give him in charge at once."
Hardly, however, had the manager started to sum-
mon the police, than, as if by magic, a body of them
appeared ; and André found himself walking down the
boulevard between a couple, while his late antagonist
followed in the safe custody of two more. To have at-
tempted any resistance would have been utter folly,
and the young man resigned himself to what he felt
he could not help. But as he went on, he reflected on


324
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
the strange scene through which he had just passed.
All had gone on so rapidly that he could hardly recall
the events to his memory. He was, however, quite
sure that this unprovoked assault concealed some mo-
tive with which at present he was unacquainted.
The police led their prisoners through the doorway
of a dingy-looking old house, and then André saw that
he was not at the regular police station. The whole
party entered an office, where a superintendent and
two clerks were at work. The ruffian who had as-
saulted André changed his manner directly he entered
the office; he threw his tattered cap upon a bench,
passed his fingers through his hair, and shook hands
with the superintendent; he then turned to André.
“ Permit me, sir,” said he,“ to compliment you on
being so handy with your fists. You precious nearly
did for me, I can tell you."
At that moment a door opened at the other end of
the room, and a voice was heard to say, “Send them
in.”
André and his late antagonist soon found them-
selves in an office evidently sacred to some one high
up in the police. At a desk near the window was
seated a man, with a rather distinguished air, wearing
a white necktie and a pair of gold glasses.
“Have the goodness to take a seat,” said this gen-
tleman, addressing André with the most perfect ur-
banity.
He took a chair, half stupefied by the strangeness of
the whole affair, and waited. Could he be awake, or
was he dreaming? He could hardly tell.
“Before I say anything," remarked the gentleman
in the gold spectacles, “I ought to apologize for a
proceeding which is-well, what shall I call it?-a lit-


M. LECOQ
325
tle rough, perhaps; but it was necessary to make use
of it to obtain this interview with you. Really, how-
ever, I had no choice. You are closely watched, and
I did not wish the persons who had set spies on you
to have any knowledge of this conference.”
“Do you say I am watched ?" stammered André.
“Yes, by a certain La Candéle, as sharp a fellow at
that kind of work as you could find in Paris. Are you
surprised at this?”
“ Yes, for I had thought
The gentleman's features softened into a benevolent
smile.
“You thought,” he said, “ that you had succeeded
in throwing them off the scent. So I had imagined
this morning, when I saw you in your present dis-
guise. But permit me, my dear M. André, to assure
you that there is great room for improvement in it.
I admit that a first attempt is always to be looked on
leniently; but it did not deceive La Candéle, and even
at this distance I can plainly see your whole make-
up; and what I can see, of course, is patent to others."
He rose from his seat, and came closer to André.
“Why on earth," asked he, “ should you daub all
this color on your face, which makes you look like an
Indian warrior in his war-paint? Only two colors are
necessary to change the whole face-red and black-
at the eyebrows, the nostrils, and the corners of the
mouth. Look here”; and taking from his pocket a
gold pencil-case, he corrected the faults in the young
artist's work.
As soon as he had finished, André went up to the
mirror over the chimney-piece, and was surprised at
the result.
“Now," said the strange gentleman, "you see the


326 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
futility of your attempts. La Candéle knew you at
once. I wished to speak to you; so I sent for Palot,
one of my men, and instructed him to pick a quarrel
with you. The policemen arrested you, and we have
met without any one being at all the wiser. Be kind
enough to efface my little corrections, as they will be
noticed in the street."
André obeyed, and as he rubbed away with the cor-
ner of his handkerchief, he vainly sought for some
elucidation of this mystery.
The man with the gold spectacles had resumed his
seat, and was refreshing himself with a pinch of
snuff.
“And now," resumed he, “ we will, if you please,
have a little talk together. As you see, I know you.
Doctor Loulleux tells me that he knows no one so
high-minded and amiable as yourself. He declares
that your honor is without a stain, and your courage
undoubted.”
“Ah! my dear sir!” interposed the painter, with a
deep blush.
"Pray let me go on. M. Gandelu says that he would
trust you with all he possessed, while all your com-
rades, with Vignol at their head, have the greatest
respect and regard for you. So much for the pres-
ent. As for your future, two of the greatest orna-
ments of the artistic world say that you will one day
occupy a very high place in the profession. You
gain now about fifteen francs a day. Am I correct?”
“ Certainly," answered André, more bewildered than
ever.
The gentleman smiled.
“Unfortunately," he went on, “my information
ends here, for the means of inquiry possessed by the


330
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
who carry it on are almost certain of doing so with im-
punity, for the victims will pay and not complain. Yes,
I tell you that I have often found out these unhappy
pigeons, but never could get one to speak.”
The detective was so indignant and acrimonious
withal in his indignation, that André could not repress
a smile.
“Very soon," continued Lecoq, “I recognized the
futility of my attempts, and the impossibility of reach-
ing these scoundrels through their victims, and then I
determined to strike at the plunderers themselves, but
this was a scheme that took patience and time. I have
waited my chance for three years, and for eighteen
months one of my men has been in the service of the
Marquis de Croisenois, and up to now this band of
villains has cost the government over ten thousand
francs. That superlative scoundrel, Mascarin, has put
several white threads in my hair. I believe him to be
Tantaine; yes, and Martin Rigal too. The idea of
there being a means of communication between the
banker's house in the Rue Montmartre and the Serv-
ants' Registry Office in the Rue Montorgueil only came
into my head this morning. But this time they have
gone too far, and I have them. The idea of a Limited
Company, the shares of which are to be taken up by
their victims, is not at all a bad one. I know them all,
from the chief, Mascarin-Tantaine-Rigal, down to their
lowest agent, Toto Chupin, and Paul Violaine, the do-
cile puppet of their will. We will get hold of the
whole gang, and neither Van Klopen nor Catenac will
escape. Just now the latter is travelling about with
the Duke de Champdoce and a fellow named Perpi-
gnan, and two of my sweet lads are close upon them,
and send in almost hourly reporis of what is going


THROUGH THE AIR
333
“You will be his shadow," pursued Lecoq, “and
keep near enough to him to rush to his aid at a mo-
ment of danger. That gang, of which Mascarin is the
head, want his life. You are my right-hand man, and
I trust him to you. I have warned him, but youth is
rash; and you will scent danger where he would never
dream that it lurked. If there is any peril, dash boldly
forward, but endeavor to let no one find out who you
are. If you must speak to him but only do so at the
last extremity—whisper my name in his ear, and he
will know you have come from me. Remember, you
are answerable for him; but change your face. La
Candéle and the others must not recognize in you the
wine-shop bully; that would spoil all. What have you
on under that blouse, a commissionaire's dress?
" That will do; now change the face.”
Palot pulled out a small parcel from his pocket, from
which he extracted a red beard and wig, and, going to
the mirror, adjusted them with dexterous activity;
and, in a few minutes, went up to his master, who was
waiting, saying,-
“How will this do ?”
“Not bad, not bad,” returned Lecoq; “ and now to
your work.”
"Where shall I find him?" asked Palot.
"Somewhere near Mascarin's den, for I advised him
not to give up playing the spy too suddenly.”
Palot was off like the wind, and when he reached
the Rue Montmartre, he caught sight of the person
who had been intrusted to his care.
André was walking slowly along, thinking of Le-
coq's cautions, when a young man, with his arm in a
sling, overtook him, going in the same direction as he
was. André was sure that it was Paul, and as he


334
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
knew that he could not be recognized, he passed him in
his turn, and saw that it was indeed the Paul so much
regretted by Zora.
“I will find out where he goes to," thought André.
He followed, and saw him enter the house of M. Ri-
gal. Two women were gossiping near the door, and
André heard one of them say,-
“ That is the young fellow who is going to marry
Flavia, the banker's daughter."
Paul, therefore, was to marry the daughter of the
chief of the gang. Should he tell Lecoq this? But,
of course, the detective knew it.
Time was passing, and André felt that he had but
little space to gain the house that Gandelu was building
in the Champs Elysées, if he wished to ask hospitality
from his friend Vignol.
He found all the workmen there, and not one of
them recognized him when he asked for Vignol.
“He is engaged up there,” said one. “Take the
staircase to the left.”
The chief part of the ornamental work was in front,
and it was there that the little hut which Tantaine had
pointed out to Toto Chupin was erected. Vignol was
in it, and was utterly surprised when André made him-
self known, for he did not recognize him under his
strange disguise.
" It is nothing,” returned the young man cautiously,
as Vignol paused for an explanation; “only a little
love affair.”
"Do you expect to win a girl's heart by making
such a guy of yourself?” asked his friend with a
laugh.
“ Hush! I will explain matters later on. Can you
give me shelter for a night or two?”


336
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
“ Let us take him to the Hospital Beaujon!” ex-
claimed Vignol. “We are close by there.”
An ambulance was speedily procured, and the work-
men, placing their insensible friend carefully in it,
asked permission to carry him to the hospital.
One curious event had excited the attention of some
of the lookers on. Just as André fell, a commissaire
had rushed forward and seized a woman. She was
one of the class of unfortunates who frequent the
Champs Elysées, and she it was who had uttered the
cry that had lured André to destruction. The woman
made an effort to escape, but Palot, for it was he,
caught her arm.
“Not a word,” said he sternly. The wretched crea-
ture seemed in abject terror, and obeyed him.
“Why did you cry out?” asked he.
“I do not know.”
“It is a lie!”
“No, it is true; a gentleman came up to me, and
said, “Madame, if you will cry out now, André, it is
I—your Sabine; help! I will give you two louis.' Of
course I agreed. He gave me the fifty francs, and I
did as he asked me.”
“What was this man like?”
“ He was tall, old, and very shabby and dirty, with
glasses on. I never set eyes on him before.”
“Do you know," returned the commissaire sternly,
“that the words you have uttered have caused the
death of the poor fellow who has just fallen from
the house?”
“Why did he not take more care?” asked she in-
differently.
Palot, with an angry gesture, handed her over to a
police-constable.


340
THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE DAY OF RECKONING.
M. Lecoq enjoined prudence and caution on André,
and the utmost care on the part of his agents, because
he was fully aware of the skill and cunning of the ad-
versary with whom he had to cope.
“You should not talk or make a noise,” he would
say, “ when you are fighting.”
He could now prove that the head of this association,
the man who concealed his identity under a threefold
personality, was the instigator of a murder. But he
did not intend to make use of this discovery at once,
for he had sworn that he would take the whole gang,
and his proceedings had been so carefully conducted
that his victims did not for a moment suspect the net
that was closing around them. The day after the acci-
dent to André, Mascarin sent an anonymous communi-
cation to the head of the police, giving up Toto as the
author of the crime, and saying where he could be
found.
“Of course,” thought this wily plotter, “ Toto will
denounce Tantaine, but that worthy man is dead and
buried, and I think that even the sharpest agents of the
police will be unable to effect his resurrection."
Mascarin had carefully consumed in a large fire
every particle of the tattered garments that Tantaine
had been in the habit of wearing, and laughed merrily
as he watched the columns of sombre smoke roll
upwards.
“Look for him as much as you please," laughed he.
“Old Daddy Tantaine has flown up the chimney.”


THE DAY OF RECKONING
341
The next business was to suppress Mascarin; this
was a more difficult operation. Few would care to in-
quire about Tantaine, but Mascarin was well known as
the head of a prosperous business; his disappearance
would create a sensation, and the police would take
up the matter. His best course would be to conduct
matters openly, and sell his business on the plea of
family affairs causing him to retire. He easily found
a purchaser, and in twenty-four hours the matter had
been arranged.
The night before handing over the business to his
successor Mascarin had much to do. Assisted by Beau-
marchef, he carried into Martin Rigal's private office
the papers with which the Registry Office was
crammed. This removal was effected by means of a
door marked by a panel between Mascarin's office and
the banker's private room; and when the last scrap of
paper had been removed, Mascarin pointed out a heap
of bricks and a supply of mortar to his faithful ad-
herent.
“Wall up this door,” said he.
It was a long and wearisome task, but it was at
length completed, and by rubbing soot and dust over
the new work it lost its appearance of freshness. The
evening before Beaumarchef had received twelve thou-
sand francs on the express condition that he would
start at once for America, and the leave-taking be-
tween him and the master he had so faithfully served
was a most affecting one. He knew hardiy anything
of the diabolical plots going on around him, and was
the only innocent person in that house of crime.
Mascarin was in haste to depart; he had annihilated
Tantaine in order to free himself from Toto. Mas-
carin was about to disappear, and he contemplated re-


342 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
taining his third personality, and in it to pass away
the remainder of his life honored and respected; but
he must first induct his successor into his business;
and he went through the books with him, and explained
all the practical working of the machinery. This took
him nearly all day, and it was getting late when his
luggage was put on a cab which he had in waiting.
A new plate had already been placed on the door:
“ J. Robinet, late B. Mascarin.”
Knowing that he must carry out the deception com-
pletely, Mascarin drove to the western railway station,
and took a ticket for Rouen. He felt rather uncom-
fortable, for he feared that he was being watched, and
he made up his mind not to leave a single trace behind
him. At Rouen he abandoned his luggage, which he
had taken care should afford no clue as to ownership,
he also relinquished his beard and spectacles, and re-
turned to Paris as the well-known banker, Martin Ri-
gal, the pretty Flavia's father, having, as he thought,
obliterated Mascarin as completely as he had done
Tantaine; but he had not noticed in the train with him
a very dark young man with piercing eyes, who looked
like the traveller of some respectable commercial firm.
As soon as he reached his home, and had tenderly em-
braced his daughter, he went to the private room of
Martin Rigal, and opened it with the key that never
left his person, and then gazed at a large rough mass
of brickwork which disfigured one side of the room,
and which was the remains of the wall that erewhile
had been so hastily erected in the Office of the Sery-
ants' Registry.
“This won't do," muttered he; "it must be plas-
tered, and then repapered.”
He picked up the bits of brick and plaster that lay


THE DAY OF RECKONING
343
on the floor, and threw them into the fire, and then
pushed a large screen in front of the rough brickwork.
He had just finished his work when Hortebise entered
the room, with his perpetually smiling face.
“Now, you unbeliever,” cried Mascarin gaily, “is
not fortune within our grasp ? Tantaine and Mascarin
are dead, or rather, they never existed. Beaumarchef
is on his way to America, La Candéle will be in Lon-
don in a week, and now we may enjoy our millions."
“ Heaven grant it,” said the doctor piously.
“Pooh, pooh! we have nothing more to fear, as you
would have known had you gone into the case as thor-
oughly as I have done. Who was the enemy whom we
had most need to dread? Why, André. He certainly
is not dead, but he is laid up for some weeks, and that
is enough. Besides, he has given up the game, for
one of my men who managed to get into the hospital
says that he has not received a visitor or dispatched a
letter for the last fifteen days.”
“But he had friends."
“Pshaw! friends always forget you! Why, where
was M. de Breulh-Faverlay?”.
“ It is the racing season, and he is a fixture in his
stables.”
“Madame de Bois Arden?”
“ The new fashions are sufficient for her giddy
head.”
" M. Gandelu?”.
“He has his son's affairs to look after and there is
no one else of any consequence.”
“ And how about young Gandelu?”.
“Oh! he has yielded to Tantaine's winning power,
and has made it up with Rose, and the turtle doves
have taken wing for Florence.”


THE DAY OF RECKONING 345
the graceful movement of a bird, perched herself upon
her father's knee, and, throwing her arms round his
neck, kissed him again and again.
“This is a very nice little preface,” said the banker
with a forced smile. “The favor is granted in ad-
vance, for, of course, this means that you have come
to ask one.”
The girl shook her head, and returned in the tone
of one addressing a naughty child, -
“Oh, you bad papa! am I in the habit of selling my
kisses? I am sure that I have only to ask and to
have.”
“Of course not, only- "
"I came to tell you that dinner was ready, and that
Paul and I are both very hungry; and I only kissed
you because I loved you; and if I had to choose a
father again, out of the whole it would be you.”
He smiled fondly.
“But for the last six weeks,” said he, “ you have
not loved me so well.”
"No," returned she with charming simplicity, “not
for so long-nearly for fifteen days perhaps.”
“And yet it is more than a month since the good
doctor brought a certain young man to dinner.”
Flavia uttered a frank, girlish laugh.
“I love you dearly,” said she, “but especially for one
thing.”
“ And what is that, pray?"
“Ah! that is the secret; but I will tell it you for all
that. It is only within the last fortnight that I have
found out how really good you have been, and how
much trouble you took in bringing Paul to me; but
to think that you should have to put on those ugly old
clothes, that nasty beard and those spectacles.”


346 THE CHAMPDOCE MYSTERY
At these words the banker started so abruptly to his
feet that Flavia nearly fell to the ground.
“What do you mean by this ? ” said he.
"Do you suppose a daughter does not know her
father? You might deceive others, but I- "
“Flavia, I do not comprehend your meaning."
not come to Paul's rooms the day I was there?”
“Are you crazy? Listen to me.”
“No, I will not; you must not tell me fibs. I am
not a fool; and when you went out with the doctor, I
listened at the door, and I heard a few words you said;
and that isn't all, for when I got here, I hid myself
and I saw you come into this room.”
“But you said nothing to any one, Flavia ?”
“No, certainly not."
Rigal breathed a sigh of relief.
“Of course I do not count Paul,” continued the
girl, “ for he is the same as myself.”
“ Unhappy child !” exclaimed the banker in so furi-
ous a voice, and with such a threatening gesture of the
hand, that for the first time in her life Flavia was
afraid of her father.
" What have I done?” asked she, the tears spring-
ing to her eyes. “I only said to Paul that we should
be terribly ungrateful if we did not worship him; for
you don't know what he does for us. Why, he even
dresses up in rags, and goes to see you."
Hortebise, who up to this time had not said a word,
now interfered.
“And what did Paul say?" asked he.
“Paul? Oh, nothing for a moment. Then he
cried out, “I see it all now,' and laughed as if he
would have gone into a fit."


THE DAY OF RECKONING
351
“Enough! enough!” cried the banker in a hoarse
voice.“ Lost, lost, lost! My own child has been my
ruin!”
The calmest of the conspirators was now the one
who was generally the first to take alarm, and this
was the genial Doctor Hortebise. When he recog-
nized Lecoq, he had gently opened his locket and
taken from it a small pellet of grayish-colored paste,
and, holding it between his fingers, had waited until
his leader should declare that all hope was gone.
In the meantime Lecoq turned towards Catenac.
“ And you too are included in this warrant," said he.
Catenac, perhaps owing to his legal training, made
no reply to Lecoq, but addressing the commissary,
observed,-
“I am the victim of a most unpleasant mistake, but
my position--"
“ The warrant is quite regular," returned the com-
missary. “You can see it if you desire.”
“No, it is not necessary. I will only ask you to
conduct me to the magistrate who issued it, and in
five minutes all will be explained.”
“Do you think so ?” asked Lecoq in a quiet tone of
sarcasm. “You have not heard, I can see, of what
took place yesterday. A laborer, in the course of his
work, discovers the remains of a newly-born infant,
wrapped in a silk handkerchief and a shawl. The
police soon set inquiries on foot, and have found the
mother—a girl named Clarisse.”
Had not Lecoq suddenly grasped Catenac's arm, the
lawyer would have flown at Martin Rigal's throat.
“ Villain, traitor!” panted he, “ you have sold me!”
“My papers have been stolen,” faltered the banker.
He now saw that the blows struck upon the other


"EVERY MAN TO HIS OWN PLACE” 353
vides reason from insanity. He was secured by the
officers, raving and struggling. When Lecoq was left
alone with the Duke, Paul and Flavia, he cast a
glimpse of pity at the young girl, who had crouched
down in a corner, and evidently hardly understood the
terrible scene that had just passed.
“ Your Grace," said he, turning to the Duke," you
have been the victim of a foul conspiracy; this young
man is not your son; he is Paul Violaine, and is the
son of a poor woman who kept a petty haberdashery
shop in the provinces.”
The miserable young fool began to bluster, and at-
tempted to deny this statement; but Lecoq opened
the door, and Rose appeared in a most becoming
costume. Paul now made no effort to continue his
protestations, but throwing himself on his knees, in
whining accents confessed the whole fraud and
pleaded for mercy, promising to give evidence against
his accomplices.
“Do not despair, your Grace," said Lecoq, as he
conducted the Duke to his carriage; “ this certainly is
rot your son; but I have found him, and to-morrow, if
you like, you shall be introduced to him.”
CHAPTER XXXV.
“EVERY MAN TO HIS OWN PLACE.”
OBEDIENT to the wishes of M. Lecoq, André re-
signed himself to a lengthy sojourn at the Hospital de
Beaujon, and had even the courage to affect that state
of profound indifference that had deceived Mascarin.
The pretended sick man in the next bed to his told him
all that had taken place, but the days seemed to be in-


"EVERY MAN TO HIS OWN PLACE” 355
witnessed. The intellect of Mascarin," said he, “ has
given way under the tremendous pressure put upon it.
The ruling passion of the villain's life was his love
for his daughter. He imagines that Flavia and Paul
are without a franc and in want of bread; he thinks
that he continually hears his daughter crying to him
for help. Then, on his knees, he entreats the warder
to let him out, if only for a day, swearing that he
will return as soon as he has succored his child. Then,
when his prayer is refused, he bursts into a frenzied
rage and tears at his door, howling like an infuriated
animal; and this state may last to the end of his life,
and every minute in it be a space of intolerable tor-
ture. Doctor Hortebise is dead; but the poison upon
which he relied betrayed him, and he suffered agonies
for twenty-four hours. Catenac will fight to the bit-
ter end, but the proofs are clear against him, and he
will be convicted of infanticide. In Rigal's papers I
have found evidence against Perpignan, Verminet and
Van Klopen, who will all certainly hear something
about penal servitude. Nothing has been settled yet
about Toto Chupin, for it must be remembered that he
came and gave himself up.”
“And what about Croisenois ?”
“ His Company will be treated like any other at-
tempt to extort money by swindling, and the Mar-
quis will be sent to prison for two months, and the
money paid for shares returned to the dupes, and that,
I think, is all that I have to tell you, except that by
to-morrow M. Gandelu will receive back the bills to
which his son affixed a forged signature. And now,"
continued Lecoq, after a short pause, “ the time has
come for me to tell you why, at our first interview, I


"EVERY MAN TO HIS OWN PLACE” 359
care. Duke de Champdoce, I owe you nothing. Leave
me to myself, as you have hitherto done, and all will
be simplified.”
The Duke reflected. Must he give up his son, who
had been restored to him by such a series of almost
miraculous chances, or must he see him married to
Diana's daughter? Either alternative appeared to him
to be equally disagreeable.
“I will not yield on the point,” said he. “ Besides,
the Countess would never give her consent. She
hates me as much as I hate her.”
M. Lecoq, who had up to this moment looked on in
silence, now thought it time to interpose.
“I think,” remarked he blandly, “ that I shall have
no difficulty in obtaining the consent of Madame de
Mussidan.”
The Duke, at these words, threw open his arms.
“Come, my son!” said he.“ All shall be as you de-
sire.”
That night Marie, Duchess de Champdoce, experi-
enced happiness for the first time in the affection and
caresses of a son who had been so long lost to her,
and seemed to throw off the heavy burden that
had so heavily pressed her down beneath its own
weight.
When Madame de Mussidan heard that André was
Norbert's son, she declared that nothing would induce
her to give her consent to his marriage with her
daughter; but among Mascarin's papers Lecoq had
discovered the packet containing the compromising
correspondence between the Duke de Champdoce and
herself. The detective handed this over to her, and,
in her gratitude, she promised to give up all further
opposition to the match.






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