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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Well, I will wait a few moments; but, my good woman, light the fire; my feet are frozen!" M. Fortunat's drawing-room being used but seldom, was really as frigid as an iceberg; and to make matters still worse, M. de Valorsay was in evening dress, with only a light overcoat.
"O God! send Pascal to my aid," prayed Mademoiselle Marguerite, as she left M. Fortunat's house. Now she understood the intrigue she had been the victim of; but, instead of reassuring her the agent had frightened her, by revealing the Marquis de Valorsay's desperate plight.
He followed him, first to the house of the Marquis de Valorsay, and afterward to M. Wilkie's rooms, where he remained till nearly daybreak. Thus, when Chupin presented himself in M. Fortunat's office at two o'clock on the Tuesday afternoon, he felt that he held every possible clue to the shameful intrigue which would ruin the viscount as soon as it was made public.
It was fully five minutes before he dared to risk the descent; and even when he reached the street, his features were so frightfully distorted that Chupin trembled. He sprang out, assisted his employer into the cab, and bade the driver return to the Place de la Bourse. It was really pitiful to see the despair which had succeeded M. Fortunat's joyful confidence.
When her first surprise was over, she vainly endeavored to find a plausible explanation of M. Fortunat's acquaintance with her affairs, for she was not at all deceived by his pretended perspicacity. Meanwhile, delighted by the supposed effect he had produced, he recklessly continued: "Reserve your amazement for what I am about to disclose, for I have made several important discoveries.
This branch of industry added considerably to the profits of M. Fortunat's other business, and was the third and last string to his bow. The report proceeded as usual, but it was quite evident that M. Fortunat's thoughts were elsewhere.
And bursting with vanity, he related three or four love affairs in which, according to his own account, he must have played a most ignoble part. If M. Fortunat's chair had been a gridiron, heated by an excellent fire, he could not have felt more uncomfortable. After pouring out bumper after bumper for his guest, he perceived that he had gone too far, and that it would not be easy to check him.
"I do, indeed, madame, wish to confer with you respecting some important interests," he answered. She sank on to a chair; and, without asking her visitor to take a seat: "Explain yourself," she said, briefly. M. Fortunat's knowledge of the importance of the game in which he had already risked so much had already restored his presence of mind.
Madame d'Argeles considered this advice so sensible that half an hour later she went out for her daily drive in the Bois, little suspecting that M. Fortunat's spy, Victor Chupin, was dogging her carriage. It was most imprudent on her part to have gone to Wilkie's house on her return.
At last even the most determined succumbed; to escape this frightful persecution, they, somehow or other, found the money to satisfy M. Fortunat's claim. Besides Victor Chupin, he had five other agents whose business it was to visit these poor wretches. A list was assigned to each man every morning; and when evening came, he made his report to the cashier, who in turn reported to his employer.
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