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"A person who is very dear to you, and who is nearly related to you, was a victim of a frightful accident yesterday evening and died this morning." This gloomy preamble did not seem to produce the slightest effect on Madame d'Argeles. "Whom are you speaking of?" she coldly asked. M. Fortunat assumed his most solemn manner as he replied: "Of your brother, madame of the Count de Chalusse."
Moreover, a glimmer of reason had at last penetrated his befogged brain: he saw that M. de Coralth was right that he had acted like a fool, and that, if he hoped to escape from the dangers that threatened him, he must take the advice of more experienced men than himself. So, ceasing his recriminations, he began to describe what he styled his explanation with Madame d'Argeles.
For he had imagined that Madame d'Argeles would be like other women he had known, but not at all. He found her to be an extremely proud and awe-inspiring creature, who, to use his own vocabulary, SQUELCHED him completely.
"Yes, go," said the viscount, approvingly, "it would be a most excellent move. Retreat and save the cash." These words were like the drop which makes the cup overflow. Crimson with anger and assailed by the strangest suspicions, Pascal turned from Madame d'Argeles and hastened into the dining-room. The conversation ceased entirely on his arrival there.
The marvellous luxury so surprised Pascal, that he asked himself how the owner of this princely abode could find any pleasure at the gaming table of the Hotel d'Argeles. Five or six footmen were lounging about the courtyard when he entered it. He walked straight up to one of them, and with his hat in his hand, asked: "Baron Trigault, if you please?"
He found it impossible to reflect, to deliberate, to decide on any plan of action. He forgot the tortures he had endured during the last twenty-four hours; Coralth, Valorsay, Madame d'Argeles, the baron, no longer existed for him. He forgot his loss of honor and position, and the disgrace attached to his name.
It was too late now to draw back, or even to reflect. Suddenly a door opposite the one by which he had entered opened, and Madame d'Argeles appeared on the threshold. She was no longer the woman whose anguish and terror had alarmed her guests. During the brief moment of respite which fate had granted her, she had summoned all her energy and courage, and had mastered her despair.
But nonsense! society has no prejudices nowadays when millionaires are concerned, and asks no questions respecting their parents. Society only requires passports of the indigent. Besides, no matter what Madame d'Argeles might have done, she was none the less a Chalusse, the descendant of one of the most aristocratic families in France.
It is needless to say that M. Fortunat was moved with sympathy; he always evinced a respectful sympathy for the woes of others; but in the present instance, his emotion was greatly mitigated by the satisfaction he felt at having succeeded so quickly and so completely. Madame d'Argeles had confessed everything!
I am entitled to considerable indulgence, madame, and a great deal ought to be forgiven me. My mother, unfortunately, was an honest woman, who did not furnish me with the means of gratifying every whim." Madame d'Argeles recoiled as if a serpent had suddenly crossed her path. "What do you mean?" she faltered. "You know as well as I do." "I don't understand you explain yourself."