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Updated: June 17, 2025
The poor father was already seeking for some excuse for the son's conduct. "I must not dwell on this longer," continued Gandelu, "or I shall get as mad as I was before. I will look at your plans another day. Now, let us get out of the house. Come and look at the new building in the Champs Elysees."
"It is I," replied a weak voice; "I, Gaston de Gandelu." Andre decided that he had no cause to distrust the lad, and so he opened his door. "Has M. Andre gone out?" asked the poor boy faintly. "I though I heard his voice." Gaston had not penetrated his disguise, and this was Andre's first triumph; but he saw now that he must alter his voice, as well as his face. "Don't you know me?" asked he.
Shut up in the sanctum where he composed the numberless costumes that were the wonder and delight of Paris, Van Klopen made as careful arrangements to secure himself from the interview as the Turk does to guard the approaches to his seraglio; and so Andre and Gandelu were accosted in the entrance hall by his stately footmen, clad in gorgeous liveries, glittering with gold.
Who was it that had informed the father of the son's conduct? Why, Catenac. Who had advised that proceedings should be taken against Rose, alias Zora? Why, Catenac again; and this same man, in addition to acting for Gandelu, it seems, was also the confidential solicitor of the Marquis de Croisenois and Verminet. Perhaps he had only obeyed their instructions.
"Hulloo!" said Gandelu, stopping short. "I say, that is very poor fun," gasped he. "There is no fun in it, for such fun, when brought to the notice of a court of justice, goes by the ugly name of forgery, and forgery means a swinging heavy sentence." Gaston turned pale, and trembled from head to foot. "Tried and sentenced," faltered he.
"Are you really intimate with the Marquis de Croisenois?" asked he. "I should rather think I was," returned Gandelu the younger. "You will see that precious sharp. I know all about him, and who the girl is that he is ruining himself for, but I mustn't talk about that; mum's the word, you know." At that moment the door opened, and the Marquis appeared, followed by Verminet.
Beaumarchef again made a motion of executing a thrust with the rapier. "Pooh, pooh!" answered his master; "don't be childish. I can do better than that. Rose calls herself nineteen, but she is more, she is of age, while Gandelu is still a minor. If old Gandelu had any pluck, he would put Article 354 in motion." "Eh, sir?" said Beaumarchef, much mystified. "Look here.
"Pooh," cried Rose, "what matters a name? All you have to do is to ask this gentleman, who is an old friend of mine, to dinner." And without waiting for a reply, she took Andre by the hand and led him into a brilliantly lighted hall. "You must dine with us," she exclaimed; "I will take no denial. Come, let me introduce you, M. Andre, M. Gaston de Gandelu. There, that is all settled."
Tantaine took a cab, and, promising the cabman a handsome gratuity if he would drive fast, stopped at the spot where the Rue Blanche intersects the Rue de Douai, and told the coachman to wait for him, and entered the house where the younger Gandelu had installed the fair Madame de Chantemille.
Then Andre hesitated no longer, and, with the exception of giving names, told the whole story of his love, his ambitions, and his hopes, and gave a clear account of how matters stood. "How can I help you?" asked M. Gandelu. "Allow me," said Andre, "to hand over the work with which you have intrusted me to one of my friends.
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