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Updated: May 16, 2025
Rising in all the height of his wrath, which broke out terrible at last, "Ah, you scoundrel!" he exclaimed. M. Costeclar threw himself suddenly to one side. "Sir!" But at one bound M. de Tregars had caught him. "On your knees!" he cried. And, seizing him by the collar with an iron grip, he lifted him clear off the floor, and then threw him down violently upon both knees. "Speak!" he commanded.
He had just opened an anonymous note, evidently written in a disguised hand, and at one glance had read, "I cannot understand your negligence. You should get through that Van Klopen matter. There is the danger." "What is that note?" inquired M. de Tregars. Maxence handed it to him. "See!" said he, "but you will not understand the immense interest it has for me." But having read it,
"Nothing more than you know by those two rascals' conversation." A dozen questions were pressing upon Maxence's lips; but M. de Tregars interrupted him. "In this case, my friend, less than ever must we trust appearances. Let me speak. Was your father a simpleton? No! His ability to dissimulate, for years, his double existence, proves, on the contrary, a wonderful amount of duplicity.
"No," he answered, repelling her gently, "keep that letter: it must never be opened now, except by the Marquise de Tregars." And raising her hand to his lips, and in a deeply agitated voice, "Farewell!" he murmured. "Have courage, and have hope." Mlle.
Now, such was the disposition of the mirrors in the two rooms, that M. de Tregars could see almost the whole of the large one reflected in the mirror over the mantelpiece of the little parlor. A man of suspicious appearance, and wearing wretched clothes, was standing in it.
His death insures the impunity of the wretches of whom he was but the instrument." "Perhaps," said M. Tregars. And at the same time he took out of his pocket, and showed the note found in Vincent Favoral's pocket-book, that note, so obscure the day before, now so terribly clear. "I cannot understand your negligence. You should get through with that Van Klopen affair: there is the danger."
It was impossible to doubt his sincerity, to suspect the fairness of his intentions. Mlle. Gilberte, better than almost any other young girl, could understand the extreme measure resorted to by M. de Tregars. By her own pride she could understand his. No more than he, in his place, would she have been willing to expose herself to a certain refusal.
Already he talks of having himself elected deputy; and he says everywhere that he has found, to marry his daughter, a gentleman who bears one of the oldest names in France, the Marquis de Tregars." "Why, this is the Marquis de Tregars!" exclaimed Maxence, pointing to Marius.
M. de Tregars guided Maxence through the labyrinth of corridors of the building, until he came to a long gallery, at the entrance of which an usher was seated reading a newspaper. "M. Barban d'Avranchel?" inquired M. de Tregars. "He is in his office," replied the usher. "Please ask him if he would receive an important deposition in the Favoral case."
And, opening the broad glass doors, he began walking in front of M. de Tregars, along a staircase with marble railing, the elegant proportions of which were absolutely ruined by a ridiculous profusion of "objects of art" of all nature, and from all sources. This staircase led to a vast semicircular landing, upon which, between columns of precious marble, opened three wide doors.
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