"Have you ever found me indiscreet, my friend?"
"You, good Marcel! how can you suppose such a thing?" said M. Hardy, in a tone of friendly reproach; "no! but I do not like to tell you of my happiness, till it is complete; and I am not yet quite certain--"
A servant entered at this moment and said to M. Hardy: "Sir, there is an old gentleman who wishes to speak to you on very pressing business."
"So soon!" said M. Hardy, with a slight movement of impatience. "With your permission, my friend." Then, as M. de Blessac seemed about to withdraw into the next room, M. Hardy added with a smile: "No, no; do not stir. Your presence will shorten the interview."
"But if it be a matter of business, my friend?"
"I do everything openly, as you know." Then, addressing the servant, M.
Hardy bade him: "Ask the gentleman to walk in."
"The postilion wishes to know if he is to wait?"
"Certainly: he will take M. de Blessac back to Paris."
The servant withdrew, and presently returned, introducing Rodin, with whom M. de Blessac was not acquainted, his treacherous bargain having been negotiated through another agent.
"M. Hardy?" said Rodin, bowing respectfully to the two friends, and looking from one to the other with an air of inquiry.
"That is my name, sir; what can I do to serve you?" answered the manufacturer, kindly; for, at first sight of the humble and ill-dressed old man, he expected an application for a.s.sistance.
"M. Francois Hardy," repeated Rodin, as if he wished to make sure of the ident.i.ty of the person.
"I have had the honor to tell you that I am he."
"I have a private communication to make to you, sir," said Rodin.
"You may speak, sir. This gentleman is my friend," said M. Hardy, pointing to M. de Blessac.
"But I wish to speak to you alone, sir," resumed Rodin.
M. de Blessac was again about to withdraw, when M. Hardy retained him with a glance, and said to Rodin kindly, for he thought his feelings might be hurt by asking a favor in presence of a third party: "Permit me to inquire if it is on your account or on mine, that you wish this interview to be secret?"
"On your account entirely, sir," answered Rodin.
"Then, sir," said M. Hardy, with some surprise, "you may speak out. I have no secrets from this gentleman."
After a moment"s silence, Rodin resumed, addressing himself to M. Hardy: "Sir, you deserve, I know, all the good that is said of you; and you therefore command the sympathy of every honest man."
"I hope so, sir."
"Now, as an honest man, I come to render you a service."
"And this service, sir--"
"To reveal to you an infamous piece of treachery, of which you have been the victim."
"I think, sir, you must be deceived."
"I have the proofs of what I a.s.sert."
"Proofs?"
"The written proofs of the treachery that I come to reveal: I have them here," answered Rodin "In a word, a man whom you believed your friend, has shamefully deceived you, sir."
"And the name of this man?"
"M. Marcel de Blessac," replied Rodin.
On these words, M. de Blessac started, and became pale as death. He could hardly murmur: "Sir--"
But, without looking at his friend, or perceiving his agitation, M.
Hardy seized his hand, and exclaimed hastily: "Silence, my friend!"
Then, whilst his eye flashed with indignation, he turned towards Rodin, who had not ceased to look him full in the face, and said to him, with an air of lofty disdain: "What! do you accuse M. de Blessac?"
"Yes, I accuse him," replied Rodin, briefly.
"Do you know him?"
"I have never seen him."
"Of what do you accuse him? And how dare you say that he has betrayed me?"
"Two words, if you please," said Rodin, with an emotion which he appeared hardly able to restrain. "If one man of honor sees another about to be slain by an a.s.sa.s.sin, ought he not give the alarm of murder?"
"Yes, sir; but what has that to do--"
"In my eyes, sir, certain treasons are as criminal as murders: I have come to place myself between the a.s.sa.s.sin and his victim."
"The a.s.sa.s.sin? the victim?" said M. Hardy more and more astonished.
"You doubtless know M. de Blessac"s writing?" said Rodin.
"Yes, sir."
"Then read this," said Rodin, drawing from his pocket a letter, which he handed to M. Hardy.
Casting now for the first time a glance at M. de Blessac, the manufacturer drew back a step, terrified at the death-like paleness of this man, who, struck dumb with shame, could not find a word to justify himself; for he was far from possessing the audacious effrontery necessary to carry him through his treachery.
"Marcel!" cried M. Hardy, in alarm, and deeply agitated by this unexpected blow. "Marcel! how pale you are! you do not answer!"
"Marcel! this, then, is M. de Blessac?" cried Rodin, feigning the most painful surprise. "Oh, sir, if I had known--"
"But don"t you hear this man, Marcel?" cried M. Hardy. "He says that you have betrayed me infamously." He seized the hand of M. de Blessac. That hand was cold as ice. "Oh, G.o.d! Oh G.o.d!" said M. Hardy, drawing back in horror: "he makes no answer!"
"Since I am in presence of M. de Blessac," resumed Rodin, "I am forced to ask him, if he can deny having addressed many letters to the Rue du Milieu des Ursins, at Paris under cover of M. Rodin."
M. de Blessac remained dumb. M. Hardy, still unwilling to believe what he saw and heard, convulsively tore open the letter, which Rodin had just delivered to him, and read the first few lines--interrupting the perusal with exclamations of grief and amazement. He did not require to finish the letter, to convince himself of the black treachery of M. de Blessac. He staggered; for a moment his senses seemed to abandon him.