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What most troubled and disquieted him was not the condition in which he had left Madame Lia d'Argeles, his mother, who was, perhaps, dying, through his fault! It was not the terrible sacrifice that this poor woman had made for him in a transport of maternal love! It was not the thought of the source from which the money he had squandered for so many years had been derived.
The man who stole my share of earthly happiness was the Count de Chalusse, your brother." With a sudden gesture Madame d'Argeles freed her hand from the baron's grasp, and recoiled as terrified as if she had seen a spectre rise up before her. Then with her hands extended as if to ward off the horrible apparition, she exclaimed: "O, my God!" A bitter smile curved the baron's lips.
You do not know into what unworthy hands the Chalusse property is about to fall." He was on the point of telling Pascal the story of Madame d'Argeles and M. Wilkie, when he was interrupted by the sound of a lively controversy in the hall. "Who's taking such liberty in my house?" the baron began.
M. Fortunat had made quick work with his clients that morning, and was ready, dressed to go out. He took up his hat and said only the one word, "Come." The place where the agent conducted his clerk was the wine-shop in the Rue de Berry, where he had made inquiries respecting Madame d'Argeles the evening before; and on arriving there, he generously offered him a breakfast.
"In that case, you ought to have gone to his house. Perhaps he is there," remarked Madame d'Argeles. "Madame knows that the baron is never at home. I did go there, however, but in vain." This chanced to be one of three consecutive days which Baron Trigault had spent with Kami-Bey, the Turkish ambassador.
Madame d'Argeles gave the agent a look of mingled irony and distrust; and after a moment's reflection, she replied: "I am very grateful for your interest, monsieur; but if I have any rights, it is not my intention to urge them." It seemed to M. Fortunat as if he were suddenly falling from some immense height.
Yes, Madame d'Argeles must lay claim to the count's estate. If she hesitates, her son will compel her to urge her claims, will he not?" "Oh, you may rest assured of that." "And when he becomes rich, will you be able to retain your influence over him?" "Rich or poor, I can mould him like wax." "Very good. Marguerite was escaping me, but I shall soon have her in my power. I have a plan.
Folks do not trouble themselves as to whether a person has done this or that; the essential thing is to have plenty of money. And if any fool speaks slightingly of you, you can reply: 'I have an income of five hundred thousand francs, and he'll say no more." Madame d'Argeles listened, speechless with horror and disgust.
But she again bade him "remain" in such an imperious tone that he dared not resist. He reascended the stairs, very much after the manner of a man who is being dragged into a dentist's office, and followed Madame d'Argeles into a small boudoir at the end of the gambling-room. As soon as the door was closed and locked, the mistress of the house turned to her prisoner.
So Chupin sighed, and, following Wilkie, he soon saw him enter No. 48 of the Rue du Helder. The concierge, who was at the door busily engaged in polishing the bell-handle, bowed respectfully. "So there it is!" grumbled Chupin. "I knew he lived there I knew it by the way that Madame d'Argeles looked at the windows yesterday evening. Poor woman! Ah! her son's a fine fellow and no mistake!"
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