During the last visits which Daniel had paid to Henrietta, he had not concealed2 from her the fact that Maxime de Brevan had formerly3 been quite intimate with Sarah Brandon and her friends. But still, in explaining his reasons for trying to renew these relations, M. de Brevan had acted with his usual diplomacy4.
But for this, she might have conceived some vague suspicions when she saw him, soon after he had left her, enter into a long conversation with the countess, then speak with Sir Thorn, and finally chat most confidentially5 with austere6 Mrs. Brian. But now, if she noticed it all, she was not surprised. Her mind was, in fact, thousands of miles away. She thought only of that letter which she had in her pocket, and which was burning her fingers, so to say. She could think of nothing else.
What would she not have given for the right to run away and read it at once? But adversity was teaching her gradually circumspection7; and she felt it would be unwise to leave the room before the last guests had departed. Thus it was past two o’clock in the morning before she could open the precious letter, after having dismissed her faithful Clarissa.
Alas8! she did not find what she had hoped for,—advice, or, better than that, directions how she should conduct herself. The fact is, that in his terrible distress9, Daniel no longer was sufficiently10 master of himself to look calmly at the future, and to weigh the probabilities. In his despair he had filled three pages with assurances of his love, with promises that his last thoughts would be for her, and with prayers that she would not forget him. There were hardly twenty lines left for recommendations, which ought to have contained the most precise and minute details.
All his suggestions, moreover, amounted to this,—arm yourself with patience and resignation till my return. Do not leave your father’s house unless in the last extremity11, in case of pressing danger, and under no circumstances without first consulting Maxime.
And to fill up the measure, from excessive delicacy12, and fearing to wound his friend’s oversensitive feelings, Daniel had omitted to inform Henrietta of certain most important circumstances. Thus he only told her, that, if flight became her only means of escape from actual danger, she need not hesitate from pecuniary13 considerations; that he had foreseen every thing, and made the needful preparations.
How could she guess from this, that the unlucky man, carried away and blinded by passion, had intrusted fifty or sixty thousand dollars, his entire fortune, to his friend Maxime? Still the two friends agreed too fully14 on the same opinion to allow her to hesitate. Thus, when she fell asleep, she had formed a decision. She had vowed15 to herself that she would meet all the torments16 they might inflict17 upon her, with the stoicism of the Indian who is bound to the stake, and to be, among her enemies, like a dead person, whom no insult can galvanize into the semblance18 of life.
During the following weeks it was not so difficult for her to keep her promises. Whether it were weariness or calculation, they seemed to forget her. Except at meals, they took no more notice of her than if she had not been in existence.
That sudden access of affection which had moved Count Ville-Handry on that evening when he thought his daughter in danger had long since passed away. He only honored her with ironical19 glances, and never addressed a word to her. The countess observed a kind of affectionate reserve, like a well-disposed person who has seen all her advances repelled20, and who is hurt, but quite ready to be friends at the first sign. Mrs. Brian never opened her thin lips but to growl21 out some unpleasant remark, of which a single word was intelligible22: shocking! There remained the Hon. M. Elgin, whose sympathetic pity showed itself daily more clearly. But, since Maxime’s warning, Henrietta avoided him anxiously.
She was thus leading a truly wretched life in this magnificent palace, in which she was kept a prisoner by her father’s orders; for such she was; she could no longer disguise it from herself. She felt at every moment that she was watched, and overlooked most jealously, even when they seemed to forget her most completely. The great gates, formerly almost always open, were now kept carefully closed; and, when they were opened to admit a carriage, the concierge23 mounted guard before them, as if he were the keeper of a jail. The little garden-gate had been secured by two additional enormous locks; and whenever Henrietta, during her walks in the garden, came near it, she saw one of the gardeners watch her with anxious eyes. They were apparently24 afraid, not only that she might escape, but that she might keep up secret communications with the outer world. She wanted to be clear about that; and one morning she asked her father’s permission to send to the Duchess of Champdoce, and beg her to come and spend the day with her. But Count Ville-Handry brutally25 replied that he did not want to see the Duchess of Champdoce; and that, besides, she was not in Paris, as her husband had taken her south to hasten her recovery.
On another occasion, toward the end of February, and when several days of fine spring weather had succeeded each other, the poor child could not help expressing a desire to go out and breathe a little fresh air. Her father said, in reply to her request,—“Every day, your mother and I go out and drive for an hour or two in the Bois de Boulogne. Why don’t you go with us?”
She said nothing. She would sooner have allowed herself to be cut to pieces than to appear in public seated by the side of the young countess and in the same carriage with her.
Months passed thus without her having put a foot outside of the palace, except her daily attendance at mass at eight o’clock on Sunday mornings. Count Ville-Handry had not dared to refuse her that; but he had added the most painful and most humiliating conditions. On these occasions M. Ernest, his valet, accompanied her, with express orders not to let her speak to any one whatsoever26, and to “apprehend” her (this was the count’s own expression), and to bring her back forcibly, if needs be, if she should try to escape.
But in vain they multiplied the insults; they did not extort27 a single complaint. Her unalterable patience would have touched ordinary executioners. And yet she had no other encouragement, no other support, but what she received from M. de Brevan.
Faithful to the plan which he had mentioned to her, he had managed so well as gradually to secure the right to come frequently to the house. He was on the best terms with Mrs. Brian; and the count invited him to dinner. At this time Henrietta had entirely28 overcome her prejudice against him. She had discovered in M. de Brevan such a respectful interest in her welfare, such almost womanly delicacy, and so much prudence29 and discretion30, that she blessed Daniel for having left her this friend, and counted upon his devotion as upon that of a brother.
Was it not he, who, on certain evenings, when she was well-nigh overcome by despair, whispered to her,—
“Courage; here is another day gone! Daniel will soon be back!”
But the more Henrietta was left to the inspirations of solitude31, and compelled to live within herself only, the more she observed all that was going on around her. And she thought she noticed some very strange changes. Never would Count Ville-Handry’s first wife have been able to recognize her reception-rooms. Where was that select society which had been attracted by her, and which she had fashioned into something like a court, in which her husband was king? The palace had become, so to say, the headquarters of that motley society which forms the “Foreign Legion” of pleasure and of scandal.
Sarah Brandon, now Countess Ville-Handry, was surrounded by that strange aristocracy which has risen upon the ruins of old Paris,—a contraband32 aristocracy, a dangerous kind of high life, which, by its unheard-of extravagance and mysterious splendor33, dazzles the multitude, and puzzles the police.
The young countess did not exactly receive people notoriously tainted34. She was too clever to commit such a blunder; but she bestowed35 her sweetest smiles upon all those equivocal Bohemians who represent all races, and whose revenues come much less from good acres in the broad sunlight than from the credulity and stupidity of mankind.
At first Count Ville-Handry had been rather shocked by this new world, whose manners and customs were unknown to him, and whose language even he hardly understood. But it had not taken long to acclimatize him.
He was the firm, the receiver of the fortune, the flag that covers the merchandise, the master, in fine, although he exercised no authority. All these titles secured to him the appearance of profound respect; and all vied with each other in flattering him to the utmost, and paying him court in the most abject36 manner. This led him to imagine that he had recovered the prestige he had enjoyed in former days, thanks to the skilful37 management of his first wife; and he assumed a new kind of grotesque38 importance commensurate with his revived vanity.
He had, besides, gone to work once more most industriously39. All the business men who had called upon him before his marriage already reappeared now, accompanied by that legion of famished40 speculators, whom the mere41 report of a great enterprise attracts, like the flies settling upon a lump of sugar. The count shut himself up with these men in his study, and often spent the whole afternoon with them there.
“Most probably something is going on there,” thought Henrietta.
She was quite sure of it when she saw her father unhesitatingly give up the splendid suite42 of apartments in the lower story of the palace, which were cut up into an infinite number of small rooms. On the doors there appeared, one by one, signs not usually found in such houses; as, “Office,” “Board Room,” “Secretary,” “Cashier’s Room.”
Then office-furniture appeared in loads,—tables, desks, chairs; then mountains of huge volumes; and at last two immense safes, as large as a bachelor’s-lodging.
Henrietta was seriously alarmed, and knowing beforehand that no one in the house would answer her questions, she turned to M. de Brevan. In the most off-hand manner he assured her that he knew nothing about it, but promised to inquire, and to let her know soon.
There was no necessity; for one morning, when Henrietta was wandering about listlessly around the offices, which began to be filled with clerks, she noticed an immense advertisement on one of the doors.
She went up to it, and read:—
FRANCO-AMERICAN SOCIETY,
For the development of Pennsylvania petroleum43 wells.
Capital, Ten Million of Francs. Twenty Thousand Shares of 500 Francs each.
The Charter may be seen at the Office of M. Lilois, N. P.
President, Count Ville-Handry.
The books for subscription44 will be opened on the 25th of March.
principal office, Palace of Count Ville-Handry, Rue45 de Varennes. branch office, Rue Lepelletier, No. 1p.
At the foot, in small print, was a full explanation of the enormous profits which might be expected, the imperative46 necessity which had led to the establishment of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Society, the nature of its proposed operations, the immense services which it would render to the world at large, and, above all, the immense profits which would promptly47 accrue48 to the stockholders.
Then there came an account of petroleum or oil wells, in which it was clearly demonstrated that this admirable product represented, in comparison with other oils, a saving of more than sixty per cent; that it gave a light of matchless purity and brilliancy; that it burnt without odor; and, above all, that, in spite of what might have been said by interested persons, there was no possible danger of explosion connected with its use.
“In less than twenty years,” concluded the report in a strain of lyric49 prophecy, “petroleum will have taken the place of all the primitive50 and useless illuminating51 mediums now employed. It will replace, in like manner, all the coarse and troublesome varieties of fuel of our day. In less than twenty years the whole world will be lighted and heated by petroleum; and the oil-wells of Pennsylvania are inexhaustible.”
A eulogy52 on the president, Count Ville-Handry, crowned the whole work,—a very clever eulogy, which called him a man sent by Providence53; and, alluding54 to his colossal55 fortune, suggested that, with such a manager at the head of the enterprise, the shareholders56 could not possibly run any risk.
Henrietta was overwhelmed with surprise. “Ah!” she said to herself, “this is what Sarah Brandon and her accomplices57 were aiming at. My father is ruined!”
That Count Ville-Handry should risk all he possessed58 in this terrible game of speculation59 was not so surprising to Henrietta. But what she could not comprehend was this, that he should assume the whole responsibility of such a hazardous60 enterprise, and run the terrible risk of a failure. How could he, with his deeply-rooted aristocratic prejudices, ever consent to lend his name to an industrial enterprise?
“It must have cost prodigies61 of patience and cunning,” she thought, “to induce him to make such a sacrifice, such a surrender of old and cherished convictions. They must have worried him terribly, and brought to bear upon him a fearful pressure.”
She was, therefore, truly amazed, when, two days afterwards, she became accidentally a witness to a lively discussion between her father and the countess on this very subject of the famous placards, which were now scattered62 all over Paris and France. The countess seemed to be distressed63 by the whole affair, and presented to her husband all the objections which Henrietta herself would have liked to have urged; only she did it with all the authority she derived64 from the count’s passionate65 love for her. She did not understand, she said, how her husband, a nobleman of ancient lineage, could stoop to “making money.” Had he not enough of it already? Would he be any happier if he had twice or thrice as many thousands a year?
He met all these objections with a sweetish smile, like a great artist who hears an ignoramus criticise66............