"It is the old story of the tailor over again. Do you know it, Conrad,--the story of the tailor?"
"No, cousin."
"You will understand the allegory at once. A tailor was going to be hanged; he was the only tailor in the village. What were the inhabitants to do? They said to the judge, "Please your judgeship, we have only one tailor, and we have three shoemakers; if it is all the same to you, please to hang one of the three shoemakers in the place of the tailor, for two shoemakers are enough." Do you understand the allegory, Conrad?"
"Yes, cousin."
"And you, Saint-Remy?"
"Quite."
"Her grace"s carriage!" said one of the servants.
"But, I say, why haven"t you put on your diamonds?" asked M. de Lucenay, abruptly; "with that dress they would look remarkably well."
Saint-Remy shuddered.
"For the one poor time we are going out together," continued the duke, "you might have done us the honour to wear your diamonds. The d.u.c.h.ess"s diamonds are particularly fine. Did you ever see them, Saint-Remy?"
"Yes, he knows them well enough!" said Clotilde; and then she added, "Your arm, Conrad."
M. de Lucenay followed the d.u.c.h.ess with Saint-Remy, who could scarcely repress his anger.
"Aren"t you coming with us to the Sennevals, Saint-Remy?" inquired M. de Lucenay.
"No, impossible," he replied, briefly.
"By the way, Saint-Remy, there"s Madame de Senneval, too,--what, do I say one? There"s two--whom I would willingly sacrifice, for her husband is also on my list."
"What list?"
"That of the people whom I should not have cared to see die, provided D"Harville had been left to us."
At the moment when they were in the anteroom, and M. de Montbrison was helping the d.u.c.h.ess on with her mantle, M. de Lucenay, addressing his cousin, said to him:
"Since you are coming with us, Conrad, desire your carriage to follow ours; unless you will decide on coming, Saint-Remy, and then you shall take me, and I will tell you another story quite as good as that of the tailor."
"Thank you," said Saint-Remy, dryly, "I cannot accompany you."
"Well, then, good night, my dear fellow. Have you and my wife quarrelled, for she is getting into her carriage without saying a word to you?"
And at this moment, the d.u.c.h.ess"s berline having drawn up at the steps, she entered it.
"Now, cousin," said Conrad, waiting for M. de Lucenay with an air of deference.
"Get in! Get in!" said the duke, who had stopped a moment, and, from the door, was contemplating the elegant equipage of the vicomte. "Are those your grays, Saint-Remy?"
"Yes."
"And your jolly-looking Edwards! He"s what I call a right sort of coachman. How well he has his horses in hand! To do justice, there is no one who, like Saint-Remy, does things in such devilish high style!"
"My dear fellow, Madame de Lucenay and your cousin are waiting for you,"
said M. de Saint-Remy, with bitterness.
"_Pardieu!_ and that"s true. What a forgetful rascal I am! _Au revoir_, Saint-Remy. Ah, I forgot," said the duke, stopping half way down the steps, "if you have nothing better to do, come and dine with us to-morrow. Lord Dudley has sent us some grouse from Scotland, and they are out-of-the-way things, you know. You"ll come, won"t you?" And the duke sprang into the carriage which contained his wife and Conrad.
Saint-Remy remained alone on the steps, and saw the carriage drive away.
His own then drove up. He got into it, casting on that house which he had so often entered as master, and which now he so ignominiously quitted, a look of anger, hatred, and despair.
"Home!" he said, abruptly.
"To the hotel!" said the footman to Edwards, as he closed the door.
We may imagine how bitter and desolating were Saint-Remy"s thoughts as he returned to his house. At the moment when he reached it, Boyer, who awaited him at the portico, said to him:
"M. le Comte is above, and waits for M. le Vicomte."
"Very well."
"And there is also a man whom your lordship appointed at ten o"clock,--a M. Pet.i.t-Jean."
"Very well. Oh, what an evening party!" said Florestan, as he went up-stairs to see his father, whom he found in the salon on the first floor, the same room in which their meeting of the morning had taken place. "A thousand pardons, my father, that I was not awaiting you when you arrived; but I--"
"Is the man here who holds the forged bill?" inquired the comte, interrupting his son.
"Yes, father, he is below."
"Desire him to come up."
Florestan rang, and Boyer appeared.
"Desire M. Pet.i.t-Jean to come up."
"Yes, my lord," and Boyer withdrew.
"How good you are, father, to remember your kind promise!"
"I always remember what I promise."
"What grat.i.tude do I owe you! How can I ever prove to you--"
"I will not have my name dishonoured! It shall not be!"
"It shall not be! No, it shall never be, I swear to you, my father!"
The comte looked strangely at his son, and repeated:
"No, it shall never be!" Then he added, with a sarcastic air, "You are a prophet."