As Andre uttered these words De Breulh"s mind was busy with similar reflections, for Modeste had given him some hint of the approaching marriage, and had begged him to be most careful how he communicated the facts to Andre.
"You must have noticed," continued the young painter, "the strange coincidence between Sabine"s illness and this note. You left her happy and full of hope, and an hour afterward she falls senseless, as though struck by lightning; as soon as she recovers a little she sends me this terrible letter. Do you remember that Madame de Bois Arden told us that during Sabine"s illness her father and mother never left her bedside?
Was not this for fear lest some guilty secret of theirs might escape her lips in a crisis of delirium?"
"Yes, I remember that, and I have long had reason to imagine that there is some terrible family secret in the Mussidans" family, such as we too often find among the descendants of n.o.ble houses."
"What can it be?"
"That I have no means of ascertaining, but that there is one I am sure."
Andre turned away and paced rapidly up and down the room. "Yes," said he, suddenly, "there is a mystery; but you and I will leave no stone unturned until we penetrate it." He drew a chair close to the side of his friend, who was reclining on a couch. "Listen," said he, "and correct me if you fancy that I am not right in what I am saying. Do you believe that the most terrible necessity alone has compelled Sabine to write this letter?"
"Most certainly."
"Both the Count and Countess were willing to accept you as their son-in-law?"
"Exactly so."
"Could M. de Mussidan have found a more brilliant match for his daughter, one who could unite so many advantages of experience and education to so enormous a fortune?"
De Breulh could hardly repress a smile.
"I am not wishing to pay you a compliment," said Andre impatiently.
"Reply to my question."
"Very well then, I admit that according to the opinion of the world, I was a most eligible suitor, and that M. de Mussidan would find it hard to replace me."
"Then tell me how it comes about that neither the Count nor the Countess has made any effort to prevent this rupture?"
"Their pride, perhaps, has been wounded."
"Not so, for Modeste tells us that on the very day you sent the letter the Count was going to call on you to break off the engagement."
"Yes, that is so, if we are to believe Modeste."
As if to give more emphasis to his words, Andre started to his feet.
"This," cried he, "this man, who has so suddenly appeared upon the scene, will marry Sabine, not only against her own will, but against that of her parents, and for what reason? Who is this man, and what is the mysterious power that he possesses? His power is too great to spring from an honorable source. Sabine is sacrificing herself to this man for some reason or other, and he, like a dastardly cur, is ready to take advantage of the n.o.bleness of her heart."
"I admit the correctness of your supposition," said he; "and now, how do you propose to act?"
"I shall do nothing as yet," answered the young man, with a fierce gleam in his eyes. "Sabine asks me to tear her from my heart. I will affect to do so for the time. Modeste believes in me, and will help me. I have patience. The villain who has wrecked my life does not know me, and I will only reveal myself upon the day that I hold him helpless in my hand."
"Take care, Andre," urged De Breulh; "a false step would ruin your hopes for ever."
"I will make none; as soon as I have this man"s name, I will insult him; there will be a duel, and I shall kill him--or he me."
"A duel will be the height of madness, and would ruin all your hopes of marriage with Sabine."
"The only thing that holds me back is that I do not wish that there should be a corpse between Sabine and myself. Blood on a bridal dress, they say, brings misery; and if this man is what I suspect him to be, I should be doing him too much honor if I crossed swords with him. No, I must have a deeper vengeance than this, for I can never forget that he nearly caused Sabine"s death."
He paused for a few seconds, and once again broke the silence which reigned in the room.
"To abuse the power that he must possess shows what a miserable wretch he must be; and men do not attain such a height of infamy by a single bound. The course of his life must be full of similar crimes, growing deeper and deadlier as he moves on. I will make it my business to unmask him and to hold him up to the scorn and contempt of his fellow-men."
"Yes; that is the plan to pursue."
"And we will do so, sir. Ah! heaven help me! I say "we," for I have relied on you. The generous offer that you made to me I refused, and I was in the right in doing so; but I should now be a mere madman if I did not entreat you to grant me your aid and advice. We have both known hardship and are capable of going without food or sleep, if necessity requires it of us. We have both graduated in the school of poverty and sorrow. We can keep our plans to ourselves and act."
Andre paused, as if waiting for a reply, but his friend remained silent.
"My plan is most simple," resumed the young painter. "As soon as we know the fellow"s name we shall be able to act. He will never suspect us, and we can follow him like his very shadow. There are professional detectives who, for a comparatively small sum, will lay bare a man"s entire life. Are we not as clever as this fine fellow? We can work well together in our different circles; you, in the world of fashion, can pick up intelligence that I could not hope to gain; while I, from my lowly position, will study the hidden side of his life, for I can talk to the servants lounging at the front doors or the grooms at the public-houses without suspicion."
M. de Breulh was delighted at finding that he could have some occupation which would fill up the dreary monotony of his life.
"I am yours!" cried he; "and will work with you heart and soul!"
Before the artist could reply a loud blow was struck upon the library door, and a woman"s voice exclaimed,--
"Let me in, Gontran, at once."
"It is Madame de Bois Arden," remarked De Breulh, drawing the bolt back; and the Viscountess rushed hastily into the room and threw herself into a low chair.
Her beautiful face was bedewed with tears, and she was in a terrible state of excitement.
"What is the matter, Clotilde?" asked De Breulh kindly, as he took her hand.
"Something terrible," answered she with a sob; "but you may be able to help me. Can you lend me twenty thousand francs?"
De Breulh smiled; a heavy weight had been lifted from his heart.
"If that is all you require, do not shed any more tears."
"But I want them at once."
"Can you give me half an hour?"
"Yes; but lose no time."
De Breulh drew a check and despatched his valet for the money.
"A thousand thanks!" said the Viscountess; "but money is not all that I require, I want your advice."
Andre was about to leave the cousins together, but the lady stopped him.
"Pray remain, M. Andre," said she; "you are not at all in the way; besides, I shall have to speak of some one in whom you take a very deep interest--of Mademoiselle de Mussidan, in short.
"I never knew such a strange occurrence," continued the Viscountess, recovering her spirits rapidly, "as that to which, my dear Gontran, you owe my visit. Well, I was just going up to dress, for I had been detained by visitor after visitor, when at two o"clock another came before I could give my order, "Not at home." This was the Marquis de Croisenois, the brother of the man who twenty years ago disappeared in so mysterious a manner. I hardly knew him at all, though of course we have met in society, and he bows to me in the Bois, but that is all."