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Tired of this proceeding, he had summoned the high and mighty Marchioness d'Arlange before the Justice of the Peace. This summons had exasperated the marchioness; but she kept the matter to herself, having decided, in her wisdom, to call upon the judge and request him to reprimand the insolent painter who had dared to plague her for a paltry sum of money.
In point of fact, Lecoq was not frightened, but he was intensely disappointed to find that Madame d'Arlange could not possibly be one of the women who had escaped from the Widow Chupin's hovel on the night of the murder. There was nothing about her appearance that corresponded in the least degree with the descriptions given by Papillon.
A true noble thinks of his name above all. Mademoiselle d'Arlange is very pretty, and very attractive; but she is penniless. I had found an heiress for you." "Whom I should never love!" "And what of that? She would have brought you four millions in her apron, more than the kings of to-day give their daughters. Besides which she had great expectations."
A single glance at the jewel enabled her to say that she had seen this earring before, and that the pair had been purchased from them by the Marchioness d'Arlange. "You must recollect," she added, turning to her husband, "that the Marchioness only gave us nine thousand francs on account, and that we had all the trouble in the world to make her pay the balance."
Ah! you are happy, you who belong to the people! I see plainly that I must pay this man without delay, and it is frightfully sad for me, for I have nothing, and am forced to make such sacrifices for the sake of my grandchild!" This statement surprised the magistrate so strongly that involuntarily he repeated half-aloud, "Sacrifices?" "Certainly!" resumed Madame d'Arlange.
These words revealed to the unfortunate magistrate the extent of his error. The same as a heavy hammer, they smashed into a thousand fragments the fragile edifice of his hopes. He raised himself slowly, and, in a tone of involuntary reproach, he repeated, "Your father!" Mademoiselle d'Arlange felt how deeply she had wounded this man whose intense love she dare not even fathom.
Mademoiselle d'Arlange stopped the magistrate with a look in which flashed the strongest resentment. "That is to say," she exclaimed, "that you counsel me to abandon him in his misfortune. All the world deserts him; and your prudence advises me to act with the world. Men behave thus, I have heard, when one of their friends is down; but women never do.
By the commencement of spring, his mind was made up. One fine afternoon, in the month of April, he bent his steps towards the residence of Madame d'Arlange, having truly need of more bravery than a soldier about to face a battery. He, like the soldier, whispered to himself, "Victory or death!"
He wished no one to see him; he desired to be alone with me." "Ah!" said the magistrate with a sigh of relief. The sigh signified: "It's all clear only too evident. She is determined to save him, at the risk even of compromising her reputation. Poor girl! But has this idea only just occurred to her?" The "Ah!" was interpreted very differently by Mademoiselle d'Arlange.
This shall be my share of life's happiness." The last beams of closing day still enabled the magistrate to see Mademoiselle d'Arlange. Her beautiful face had the whiteness and the immobility of marble. Heavy tears rolled silently down her cheeks. It seemed to M. Daburon that he was beholding the frightful spectacle of a weeping statue. "You love another," said he at length, "another!
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