The Son of Clemenceau Part 23

"The greatest punishment on a wrongdoer is to refuse her, when repentant, the joy of doing a kindness. You need not pretend surprise, for I have done harm. I did not forsee what would be thought of my hasty conduct, and even if I were wicked; can you expect a woman to have the loftiness of genius like him, and the force for resisting temptation like you?"

"Like me!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Antonino, starting.

"Yes; can you deny that you have had to wrestle and are wrestling now with yourself most strenuously?"

He averted his eyes and made no reply.

"Child that you are," she resumed. "You were right when you just now said that you could keep the secret of others better than your own. Can the eyes of an honest youth like you deceive those of a wayward woman like me? I thank you for the effort you have made--and the silence your lips have preserved. It matters not. I am glad that after doing the act of reparation proposed, I shall have the means to go away, literally, for good this time. It is time I went."

He lifted his hand as if to detain her, but let it fall quickly.

After all, if she departed forever without speaking out the secret of those two hearts, what harm would be done. Who had the right to prevent the susceptible Italian feeling the first impressions of the gentler s.e.x and owing them to Cesarine? He could but be thankful that he saw only the prologue to "the great dreadful tragedy of Woman." He might blame himself for cherishing the memory of the false wife, but he could not annul that early sensation. Was it her fault, brought to France at the sequel of a romantic adventure, if she met him, a castaway, and disturbed his youth and innocence? There had not seemed any evil intention in speech or behavior toward him, and he himself might be as proud as she was of the pure and respectful sentiment which should have contributed toward her amelioration. In this case, he--ignorant of the counter-attraction of the Viscount de Terremonde--imagined that she had struggled also against the pressure of nature and the sin was no more when she triumphed.

"Well, listen to the secret which we can discuss," said she. "I wish to be a.s.sociated with you in a good action, which, I hope, will lead to many another, if it is the first. One of these days, when you learn the story of my life, you will see there was a little good in it to shine on the dark background. Are you not willing to help me increase it? In this case, that good and honorable man will profit."

Antonino listened spellbound, he could have been ordered up to their own terrible cannon's mouth by that resistless voice.

"Let me live one day in your youth, illusions and unstained conscience,"

she implored. "Well, here in this little pocketbook are letters of credit for two hundred thousand francs. It is all I have--take it."

"What am I to do with it?" said Antonino.

"Put it away somewhere out of my reach to retake it. I know myself and that, if I have a good thought one day, I might entertain the reverse on the next. If I broke into the money, I could not replace the sum extracted, and, another thing, I cannot make the use of it I intended.

Leave me to win from my husband the acceptance of the help I wish to give him. It may take long, but until then, pray keep the money; that will not entangle you in any degree."

What a strange woman! he thought. She does evil with the easy, graceful air of an almsgiver distributing charity, and she does good with the stealth of a criminal!

"I am a fair example of my s.e.x," said she, divining what was in his mind, "weak, ignorant, unfortunate: and stupid--and the proof is any harm I have done to others is nothing to that I have wrought to myself."

Antonino, taking the pocketbook--a dainty article in Russian leather--went to the oaken chest which he opened after what seemed some cabalistic manipulation, and the muttering of what seemed an "Open Sesame!"

"Have you no safe yet, is that box strong and secure?" she inquired in a tone of well a.s.sumed anxiety, as she hurriedly took three or four steps to bring her again beside him.

"You need not be alarmed. That is a box of which we made the peculiar fastenings. It is too heavy to be carried off, and burglars will not tamper with it in impunity," said the Italian, smiling maliciously, as he put his hand on the lid to raise it.

"I understand; it opens with a secret lock?"

"Yes; one I cannot tell you about."

"I have no use for it," she said hastily, "on the contrary, I wish the money to be where I cannot touch it."

"n.o.body will touch it there," returned the young man gravely. "Stop! how will you get it if anything happens to me--if I should die?"

"A young man like you die in a couple of days!" laughed Cesarine.

"It may occur," he replied gloomily. "Death has hovered over this house at any moment of some of our experiments with the most powerful essences of nature. And only this morning, when I was out to the post-office, they were talking of a hideous discovery--a young man's remains, found in a ditch in the Five Hectare Field."

"A--a young man?"

"A foreigner, some said; but his clothes were in tatters, and the water-rats had disfigured him."

"Poor fellow!" said she, and quickly she added as if eager to change the subject: "my name is on the letters of credit. In case of any mishap, I will plainly say so to my husband and he will return me my own property."

That was sensible. He had no farther remonstrances to offer, and taking advantage of her glancing out into the garden, he closed the lid and fastened it so that she could not see how the trick was done. She was not vexed, for she saw that man is always weak and on the point of losing his Paradise. Antonino would betray as the price of love. She allowed him to go in to luncheon alone, wishing to inspect the mysterious casket; but, unluckily, she was interrupted by Hedwig, who rather officiously wanted to dust the room. Not for the first time, Cesarine, remembering the wide occult sway claimed by Colonel Von Sendlingen, suspected that the girl was not so much her ally as she wished. She had begun to watch her under the impression that she was in confederacy with Mademoiselle Daniels. She had perceived no signs of that, but she believed she intercepted an exchange of glances with the false Ma.r.s.eillais. They were of the same nationality and this fact caused Cesarine to be on her guard. Unless Hedwig repeated what had happened between Clemenceau and Antonino, how could the colonel know of their conversation?

Hesitating to question her directly, disliking her from that moment, and feeling her heart shrink at her loneliness when such crushing odds were threatening her, she donned her "company smile" and went to the sitting-room bravely.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE COMPACT.

Luncheon was served and M. Cantagnac, seated comfortably, was trying the delicacies with rare conscientiousness about any escaping his harpoon-like fork. Cesarine did not give him a second look and neither he nor Clemenceau, with whom he was chatting on politics, more than glanced up at her. M. Daniels was more polite, for he warmly accepted a second cup of coffee as soon as she, without any attempt to displace Mademoiselle Daniels at the urn, took her place beside her.

"Pray go on and attend to the liquors," she said kindly. "I am so nervous that I am afraid I shall break something."

She took a seat which placed her on the left of the old Jew. A little familiarity was only in keeping when two theatrical artists met.

"What is the matter with your daughter? she seems sad," she remarked with apparent interest.

"That is natural enough when we are going away from France, it may be forever."

"Going away from here?" inquired Madame Clemenceau.

"Yes; this evening, but we did not like to go without bidding you good-bye. Now that we have seen you in good health, and thanked you for your hospitality, we can proceed on our mission without compunction."

"A mission--where?"

"I have succeeded in interesting capitalists in your husband's inventions. That is settled; and I have taken up again a holy undertaking which should hardly have been laid aside for a mere money matter. But there is nothing more sacred, after all, than friendship, I owe to your husband more than I have thus far repaid," and he bent a tender regard on his daughter, with its overflow upon Clemenceau one of grat.i.tude.

"Are you going far?" asked Cesarine, keeping her eyes in play but little rewarded by her scrutiny of the sham Ma.r.s.eillais who devoured, like an old campaigner, never sure of the next meal, or of Rebecca who superintended the table in her stead with a serious unconcern.

"Around the world," replied Daniels simply, "straight on to the East."

"Goodness! it is folly to take a young lady with you. Is it a scientific errand? No, you said holy. Religious?"

"Scientific of an exalted type."

"Is science somewhat entertaining for young ladies?"

"Some think it so."

"She might not. Leave her with me. We are comrades of art, you know,"

smiling up cordially at Rebecca, as if they had been friends of childhood and had never parted any more than Venus' coupled loves.

"Where?"