With these words he rushed into the pa.s.sage and shouted out, "Zora, Mademoiselle de Chantemille, my dear one, come hither."
The renowned tailor was exquisitely uncomfortable at so terrible a scene in his establishment. He cast an appealing glance at Mascarin, but the face of the agent seemed carved in marble. As to Paul, he was quite prepared to accept this young gentleman as a perfect type of the gla.s.s of fashion and the mould of form, and could not forbear pitying him in his heart. He went across the room to Mascarin.
"Is there no way," whispered he, "of saving this poor young fellow?"
Mascarin smiled one of those livid smiles which chilled the hearts of those who knew him thoroughly.
"In fifteen minutes," said he, "I will put the same question to you, leaving you to reply to it. Hush, this is the first real test that you have been subjected to; if you are not strong enough to go through it, then we had better say farewell. Be firm, for a thunderbolt is about to fall!"
The manner in which these apparently trivial words were spoken startled Paul, who, by a strong effort, recovered his self-possession; but, prepared as he was, it was with the utmost difficulty that he stifled the expression of rage and surprise that rose to his lips at the sight of the woman who entered the room. The Madame de Chantemille, the Zora of the youthful Gandelu, was there, attired in what to his eyes seemed a most dazzling costume. Rose seemed a little timid as Gandelu almost dragged her into the room.
"How silly you are!" said he. "What is there to be frightened at? He is only in a rage with his flunkies for having kept us waiting."
Zora sank negligently into an easy chair, and the gorgeously attired youth addressed the all-powerful Van Klopen.
"Well, have you invented a costume that will be worthy of Madame"s charms?"
For a few moments Van Klopen appeared to be buried in profound meditation.
"Ah," said he, raising his hand with a grandiloquent gesture, "I have it; I can see it all in my mind"s eye."
"What a man!" murmured Gaston in deep admiration.
"Listen," resumed the tailor, his eye flashing with the fire of genius. "First, a walking costume with a polonaise and a cape _a la pensionnaire_; bodice, sleeves, and underskirt of a brilliant chestnut----"
He might have continued in this strain for a long time, and Zora would not have heard a word, for she had caught sight of Paul, and in spite of all her audacity, she nearly fainted. She was so ill at ease, that young Gandelu at last perceived it; but not knowing the effect that the appearance of Paul would necessarily cause, and being also rather dull of comprehension he could not understand the reason for it.
"Hold hard, Van Klopen, hold hard! the joy has been too much for her, and I will lay you ten to one that she is going into hysterics."
Mascarin saw that Paul"s temper might blaze forth at any moment, and so hastened to put an end to a scene which was as absurd as it was dangerous.
"Well, Van Klopen, I will say farewell," said he. "Good morning, madame; good morning, sir;" and taking Paul by the arm, he led him away by a private exit which did not necessitate their pa.s.sing through the great reception-room.
It was time for him to do so, and not until they were in the street did the wily Mascarin breathe freely.
"Well, what do you say, now?" asked he.
Paul"s vanity had been so deeply wounded, and the effort that he had made to restrain himself so powerful, that he could only reply by a gasp.
"He felt it more than I thought he would," said Mascarin to himself.
"The fresh air will revive him."
Paul"s legs bent under him, and he staggered so that Mascarin led him into a little _cafe_ hard by, and ordered a gla.s.s of cognac, and in a short time Paul was himself once again.
"You are better now," observed Mascarin; and then, believing it would be best to finish his work, he added, "A quarter of an hour ago I promised that I would ask you to settle what our intentions were to be regarding M. de Gandelu."
"That is enough," broke in Paul, violently.
Mascarin put on his most benevolent smile.
"You see," remarked he, "how circ.u.mstances change ideas. Now you are getting quite reasonable."
"Yes, I am reasonable enough now; that is, that I mean to be wealthy.
You have no need to urge me on any more. I am willing to do whatever you desire, for I will never again endure degradation like that I have gone through to-day."
"You have let temper get the better of you," returned Mascarin, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"My anger may pa.s.s over, but my determination will remain as strong as ever."
"Do not decide without thinking the matter well over," answered the agent. "To-day you are your own master; but if you give yourself up to me, you must resign your dearly loved liberty."
"I am prepared for all."
Victory had inclined to the side of Mascarin, and he was proportionally jubilant.
"Good," said he. "Then Dr. Hortebise shall introduce you to Martin Rigal, the father of Mademoiselle Flavia, and one week after your marriage I will give you a duke"s coronet to put on the panels of your carriage."
CHAPTER XII.
A STARTLING REVELATION.
When Sabine de Mussidan told her lover that she would appeal to the generosity of M. de Breulh-Faverlay, she had not calculated on the necessity she would have for endurance, but had rather listened to the dictates of her heart; and this fact came the more strongly before her, when in the solitude of her own chamber, she inquired of herself how she was to carry out her promise. It seemed to her very terrible to have to lay bare the secrets of her soul to any one, but the more so to M. de Breulh-Faverlay, who had asked for her hand in marriage. She uttered no word on her way home, where she arrived just in time to take her place at the dinner table, and never was a more dismal company a.s.sembled for the evening meal. Her own miseries occupied Sabine, and her father and mother were suffering from their interviews with Mascarin and Dr.
Hortebise. What did the liveried servants, who waited at table with such an affectation of interest, care for the sorrows of their master or mistress? They were well lodged and well fed, and nothing save their wages did they care for. By nine o"clock Sabine was in her own room trying to grow accustomed to the thoughts of an interview with M. de Breulh-Faverlay. She hardly closed her eyes all night, and felt worn out and dispirited by musing; but she never thought of evading the promise she had made to Andre, or of putting it off for a time. She had vowed to lose no time, and her lover was eagerly awaiting a letter from her, telling him of the result. In the perplexity in which she found herself, she could not confide in either father or mother, for she felt that a cloud hung over both their lives, though she knew not what it was. When she left the convent where she had been educated, and returned home, she felt that she was in the way, and that the day of her marriage would be one of liberation to her parents from their cares and responsibilities.
All this prayed terribly upon her mind, and might have driven a less pure-minded girl to desperate measures. It seemed to her that it would be less painful to fly from her father"s house than to have this interview with M. de Breulh-Faverlay. Luckily for her, frail as she looked, she possessed an indomitable will, and this carried her through most of her difficulties.
For Andre"s sake, as well as her own, she did not wish to violate any of the unwritten canons of society, but she longed for the hour to come when she could acknowledge her love openly to the world. At one moment she thought of writing a letter, but dismissed the thought as the height of folly. As the time pa.s.sed Sabine began to reproach herself for her cowardice. All at once she heard the clang of the opening of the main gates. Peeping from her window, she saw a carriage drive up, and, to her inexpressible delight, M. de Breulh-Faverlay alighted from it.
"Heaven has heard my prayer, and sent him to me," murmured she.
"What do you intend to do, Mademoiselle?" asked the devoted Modeste; "will you speak to him now?"
"Yes, I will. My mother is still in her dressing-room, and no one will venture to disturb my father in the library. If I meet M. de Breulh-Faverlay in the hall and take him into the drawing-room, I shall have time for a quarter of an hour"s talk, and that will be sufficient."
Calling up all her courage, she left her room on her errand. Had Andre seen the man selected by the Count de Mussidan for his daughter"s husband, he might well have been proud of her preference for him. M. de Breulh-Faverlay was one of the best known men in Paris, and fortune had showered all her blessings on his head. He was not forty, of an extremely aristocratic appearance, highly educated, and witty; and, in addition, one of the largest landholders in the country. He had always refused to enter public life. "For," he would say to those who spoke to him on the matter, "I have enough to spend my money on without making myself ridiculous." He was a perfect type of what a French gentleman should be--courteous, of unblemished reputation, and full of chivalrous devotion and generosity. He was, it is said, a great favorite with the fair s.e.x; but, if report spoke truly, his discretion was as great as his success. He had not always been wealthy, and there was a mysterious romance in his life. When he was only twenty, he had sailed for South America, where he remained twelve years, and returned no richer than he was before; but shortly afterward his aged uncle, the Marquis de Faverlay, died bequeathing his immense fortune to his nephew on the condition that he should add the name of Faverlay to that of De Breulh.
De Breulh was pa.s.sionately fond of horses; but he was really a lover of them, and not a mere turfite, and this was all that the world knew of the man who held in his hands the fates of Sabine de Mussidan and Andre.
As soon as he caught sight of Sabine he made a profound inclination.
The girl came straight up to him.
"Sir," said she, in a voice broken by conflicting emotions, "may I request the pleasure of a short private conversation with you?"
"Mademoiselle," answered De Breulh, concealing his surprise beneath another bow, "I am at your disposal."
One of the footmen, at a word from Sabine, threw open the door of the drawing-room in which the Countess had thrown down her arms in her duel with Dr. Hortebise. Sabine did not ask her visitor to be seated, but leaning her elbow on the marble mantel-piece, she said, after a silence equally trying to both,--
"This strange conduct on my part, sir, will show you, more than any explanation, my sincerity, and the perfect confidence with which you have inspired me."