The Barber of Paris Part 47

One evening a gentleman went to his house, with a little girl five or six years old, and requested a bed. Touquet received him. The traveller went out the same evening, leaving his little girl with Touquet, and that night he was murdered in the Rue Saint-Honore near the Barriere des Sergents."

"Were the murderers discovered," said the marquis, looking attentively at Chaudoreille.

"Oh, no, monseigneur," responded the latter, smiling almost imperceptibly, "but--sometime afterwards Touquet was possessed of enough to buy the house which he had rented."

The marquis made a sudden movement, like that of a man who is about to step on a snake. A long silence succeeded, during which Chaudoreille kept his eyes bent on the ground, not daring to seek to read those of the marquis.

"And it is the daughter of that man whom he adopted," said Villebelle, breaking the silence.

"Yes, monseigneur, it is she."

"What was her father's name?"

"Moranval, at least, so I believe. Nothing was found upon him but an insignificant letter, which gave no information in regard to his family."

"And his daughter is beautiful?"

"As far as I am competent to judge, monseigneur, and if you should see her--"

"Yes, I shall see her."

"Monseigneur, I have the honor to inform you that Touquet has expressly forbidden me to speak of young Blanche and of her coming marriage. In order to be agreeable to your lordship I have sacrificed myself; but the barber is wicked, very wicked. I beg of you, monseigneur, not to tell him that you learned all this from me."

"Be easy about that."

"In any case I beg to be allowed to claim the protection of monseigneur in regard to my duel with the Prince of Cochin-China, which is not a falsehood as monseigneur appears to believe."

The marquis was reflecting deeply; finally he rose, saying to Chaudoreille,--

"Follow me, and not a word of all this. In twenty-four hours you will return here, and if you have not deceived me you will receive the recompense which I have promised you."

Chaudoreille bowed nearly to the ground and followed the marquis. They returned to the banquet hall, where his guests awaited with impatience Villebelle's return.

"Well," said De Chavagnac, as he entered, "was it worth the trouble of leaving the table?"

"I think so," answered the marquis; "but as to that I shall be better able to tell you after tomorrow. Chaudoreille, go down with Marcel and make him give you some supper before you leave." The latter did not wait for this order to be repeated. He went down to look for Marcel and, already a.s.suming a patronizing air, made the valet serve him with all that he thought best, while saying to his old friend,--

"I am in great favor with your master, treat me well and I can say two words for you. Above all never refuse to play a game of piquet with me, or I'll cause you to lose favor with monseigneur."

Poor Marcel, who understood nothing of all this, allowed his intimate friend to beat him at six games. Finally, day appeared, and Chaudoreille left the house saying,--

"I shall come back this evening at ten o'clock. The marquis has made an appointment with me." Then he ventured into the Faubourg, stopping whenever he saw from afar two men together, and with a mysterious air inquiring of some shopkeepers if they had heard anyone speak of the death of Cochin-China. As n.o.body understood what he said, he finally persuaded himself that his prince was dead, but that n.o.body knew who he was, and more tranquil as to the result of the affair he at length ventured to reenter Paris.

After the secret interview of the marquis and Chaudoreille, the four profligates returned to their play; but the party was no longer gay.

Villebelle was preoccupied and took little part in the conversation; the vicomte was sleepy; fat Montgeran no longer sang, and Chavagnac was tired of losing. At six o'clock in the morning these gentlemen separated, each one returning to his dwelling in the city and the marquis reentered his hotel, reflecting on all that Chaudoreille had told him.

CHAPTER V

HAVING MONEY AND POWER ONE MAY DARE EVERYTHING

"Only two days more and I shall be your husband, my Blanche," said Urbain, pressing the young girl's hands in a tender transport.

"Oh, my dearest, how very happy we shall be, when we no longer have to part, even for a few hours," answered Blanche, smiling at her lover, "how much I shall like living in the country! I shall breathe more freely there in the pure air, I am sure, than in this close room. We shall play and run on the gra.s.s, shall we not, dear?"

"Yes, and we will work in our own garden."

"How delightful! We shall have flowers then, and I am so pa.s.sionately fond of them."

"We shall have some cows also, I hope," said Marguerite.

"Oh, yes, dear nurse, and some pigeons, and rabbits and fowls--it will all be so delightful. It seems to me that when I was a very little child I lived in the country, in a house where they had all those things."

"Poor Blanche! and is that all you remember of your infancy?"

"I still remember a lady who was always with me, who often kissed me; no doubt she was my mother."

"Poor woman!" said Marguerite; "perhaps she is still living; and to think that no one knows. But away with sad thoughts!"

"Then you'll not regret Paris, my dear Blanche," said Urbain.

"Would you wish me to regret it, dear, when you are with me?"

"Those dear children!" said the old servant rising from her chair; "it is Providence which has brought them together, for they are made for one another. But it's nine o'clock, Monsieur Urbain, you must go."

"Nine o'clock already! The time is approaching when we need part no more, but the days seem very long now, because I spend them away from you."

"It's the same with me, dear; it seems to me that evening will never come."

"I haven't seen M. Touquet for some days."

"And you'll not see him this evening," said Marguerite; "he received a letter after dinner. It was no doubt some pressing matter of business, for he left immediately and has not yet returned."

"Good-by, then, dear Blanche."

"Good-by, my dear."

"Two days more. It seems a long time to wait."

"You have managed to live through a fortnight," said Marguerite.

"Yes, I don't know why, but these last few days seem to me as if they would be eternal."

Urbain could not tear himself away from Blanche; his heart was oppressed; the eyes of both the young lovers were filled with tears; the young girl extended her hand to her friend and he pressed it to his heart.

"I don't know what's the matter with me," said Blanche, "but your going makes me sadder than usual."