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He owned that he had at heart his daughter's marriage with M. Costeclar; but he acknowledged that he had made use of the surest means for making it fail. He should, he humbly confessed, have expected every thing of time and circumstances, of M. Costeclar's excellent qualities, and of his beautiful, darling daughter's good sense. More than of all his violence, Mme.
"Did not M. Villegre call upon you before the war?" "He did." "Well, 'twas I who sent him to you; and the commands which he delivered to you were mine." "Yours?" "Mine. I am Marius de Tregars." A nervous shudder shook M. Costeclar's lean frame. Instinctively his eye turned towards the door. "You see," Marius went on with the same gentleness, "we are, you and I, old acquaintances.
She was hesitating whether to refuse him the door, or to see him, and dismiss him shamefully herself, when she had a sudden inspiration. "What does he want?" she thought. "Why not see him, and try and find out what he knows? For he certainly must know the truth." But it was no longer time to deliberate. Above the servant's shoulder M. Costeclar's pale and impudent face showed itself.
"Very well," she replied simply. But Maxence could not resign himself so quietly to such a cruel disappointment; and, not having the slightest suspicion of Costeclar's doings, "And such is," he added, "the result of all the gossip of these stupid shop-keepers who run to see you every time you go out in the carriage." The girl shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.
All the blood in M. Costeclar's veins rushed to his face. "You!" he interrupted insolently: "I do not know you." Imperturbable, M. de Tregars was drawing off his gloves. "Are you quite certain of that?" he replied. "Come, you certainly know my old friend, M. de Villegre?" An evident feeling of anxiety appeared on M. Costeclar's countenance. "I do," he stammered.
Maxence understood only one thing, that M. de Tregars had penetrated M. Costeclar's designs; and he could not sufficiently admire his presence of mind, and his skill in grasping an unexpected opportunity. "Fortunately there is nothing done yet," added M. Latterman. "And it is yet time to alter what has been agreed on," said M. de Tregars. And, addressing himself to Costeclar,
From that moment, I had but one wish, to see and speak to you. When I reached the door, I recognized M. Costeclar's equipage, and I had a presentiment of the truth. I inquired from the concierge for your mother or your brother, and heard that Maxence had gone out a few moments before, and that Mme. Favoral had just left in a carriage with M. Chapelain, the old lawyer.
Desclavettes had been completely subjugated by the grand manners of this pretender; and M. Desclavettes did not hesitate to affirm that he had rarely met any one who pleased him more. The others, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, did not, doubtless, share this optimism; but M. Costeclar's annual half-million obscured singularly their clear-sightedness.
I was quite young, and, as you see, quite what you call, I believe, 'green. I am no longer so now. Were such a thing to happen to me to-day, I should want to know at once what had become of the millions: I would feel all the pockets around me. I would say, 'Stop thief!" At every word, as it were, M. Costeclar's uneasiness became more manifest.
My suit has nothing but is honorable. Your sister may not like me: that is a misfortune; but it is not irreparable. When she knows me better, I venture to hope that she will overcome her unjust prejudices. Therefore I shall persist." Maxence insisted no more. He was irritated at M. Costeclar's coolness; but it was not his intention to push things further.
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