The Slaves of Paris - Émile Gaboriau (macos ebook reader .txt) 📗

the hospital says that he has not received a visitor or dispatched a letter for the last fifteen days.”

“But he had friends.”

“Pshaw! friends always forget you! Why, where was M. de Breulh-Faverlay?”

“It is the racing season, and he is a fixture in his stables.”

“Madame de Bois Arden?”

“The new fashions are sufficient for her giddy head.”

“M. Gandelu?”

“He has his son’s affairs to look after and there is no one else of any consequence.”

“And how about young Gandelu?”

“Oh! he has yielded to Tantaine’s winning power, and has made it up with Rose, and the turtle doves have taken wing for Florence.”

But the doctor was still dissatisfied. “I am uneasy about the Mussidans,” said he.

“And pray why? De Croisenois has been very well received. I don’t say that Mademoiselle Sabine has exactly jumped into his arms, but she thanks him every evening for the flowers he sends in the morning, and you can’t expect more than that.”

“I wish the Count had not put off the marriage. Why did he do so?”

“It annoys me, too; but we can’t have everything; set your mind at rest.”

By this time the banker had contrived to reassure the doctor.

“Besides,” he added, “everything is going on well, even our Tafila mines. I have taxed our people, according to their means, from one to twenty thousand francs, and we are certain of a million.”

The doctor rubbed his hands, and a delicious prospect of enjoyments stretched out before him.

“I have seen Catenac,” continued Martin Rigal. “He has returned from Vendôme, and the Duke de Champdoce is wild with hope and expectation, and is on the path which he thinks will take him to his son.”

“And how about Perpignan?”

Mascarin laughed.

“Perpignan is just as much a dupe as the Duke is; he thinks absolutely that he has discovered all the clues that I myself placed on his road. Before, however, they have quite concluded their investigations, Paul will be my daughter’s husband and Flavia the future Duchess of Champdoce, with an income that a monarch might envy.”

He paused, for there was a light tap on the door, and Flavia entered. She bowed to the doctor, and, with the graceful movement of a bird, perched herself upon her father’s knee, and, throwing her arms round his neck, kissed him again and again.

“This is a very nice little preface,” said the banker with a forced smile. “The favor is granted in advance, for, of course, this means that you have come to ask one.”

The girl shook her head, and returned in the tone of one addressing a naughty child⁠—

“Oh, you bad papa! Am I in the habit of selling my kisses? I am sure that I have only to ask and to have.”

“Of course not, only⁠—”

“I came to tell you that dinner was ready, and that Paul and I are both very hungry; and I only kissed you because I loved you; and if I had to choose a father again, out of the whole it would be you.”

He smiled fondly.

“But for the last six weeks,” said he, “you have not loved me so well.”

“No,” returned she with charming simplicity, “not for so long⁠—nearly for fifteen days perhaps.”

“And yet it is more than a month since the good doctor brought a certain young man to dinner.”

Flavia uttered a frank, girlish laugh.

“I love you dearly,” said she, “but especially for one thing.”

“And what is that, pray?”

“Ah! that is the secret; but I will tell it you for all that. It is only within the last fortnight that I have found out how really good you have been, and how much trouble you took in bringing Paul to me; but to think that you should have to put on those ugly old clothes, that nasty beard and those spectacles.”

At these words the banker started so abruptly to his feet that Flavia nearly fell to the ground.

“What do you mean by this?” said he.

“Do you suppose a daughter does not know her father? You might deceive others, but I⁠—”

“Flavia, I do not comprehend your meaning.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” asked she, “that you did not come to Paul’s rooms the day I was there?”

“Are you crazy? Listen to me.”

“No, I will not; you must not tell me fibs. I am not a fool; and when you went out with the doctor, I listened at the door, and I heard a few words you said; and that isn’t all, for when I got here, I hid myself and I saw you come into this room.”

“But you said nothing to anyone, Flavia?”

“No, certainly not.”

Rigal breathed a sigh of relief.

“Of course I do not count Paul,” continued the girl, “for he is the same as myself.”

“Unhappy child!” exclaimed the banker in so furious a voice, and with such a threatening gesture of the hand, that for the first time in her life Flavia was afraid of her father.

“What have I done?” asked she, the tears springing to her eyes. “I only said to Paul that we should be terribly ungrateful if we did not worship him; for you don’t know what he does for us. Why, he even dresses up in rags, and goes to see you.”

Hortebise, who up to this time had not said a word, now interfered.

“And what did Paul say?” asked he.

“Paul? Oh, nothing for a moment. Then he cried out, ‘I see it all now,’ and laughed as if he would have gone into a fit.”

“Did you not understand, my poor child, what this laugh means? Paul thinks that you have been my accomplice, and believes that it was in obedience to your orders that I went to look for him.”

“Well, and suppose he does?”

“A man like Paul never loves a woman who has run after him; and no matter how great her beauty may be, will always consider that she has thrown herself in his path. He will accept all her devotion, and make no more return than a stone or a wooden idol would do. You cannot see this, and God grant that it may be