"A probable thing!"
"Why not? Who ever heard of such an occurrence as this? — a
false telegraphic despatch — it is almost impossible for wrong
signals to be made as they were in the last two telegrams. It was
done on purpose for me — I am sure of it."
"Sir," said the baroness humbly, "are you not aware that the man
employed there was dismissed, that they talked of going to law with
him, that orders were issued to arrest him and that this order
would have been put into execution if he had not escaped by flight,
which proves that he was either mad or guilty? It was a
mistake."
"Yes, which made fools laugh, which caused the minister to have
a sleepless night, which has caused the minister's secretaries to
blacken several sheets of paper, but which has cost me 700,000
francs."
"But, sir," said Hermine suddenly, "if all this is, as you say,
caused by M. Debray, why, instead of going direct to him, do you
come and tell me of it? Why, to accuse the man, do you address the
woman?"
"Do I know M. Debray? — do I wish to know him? — do I wish to
know that he gives advice? — do I wish to follow it? — do I
speculate? No; you do all this, not I."
"Still it seems to me, that as you profit by it — "
Danglars shrugged his shoulders. "Foolish creature," he
exclaimed. "Women fancy they have talent because they have managed
two or three intrigues without being the talk of Paris! But know
that if you had even hidden your irregularities from your husband,
who has but the commencement of the art — for generally husbands
will not see — you would then have been but a faint imitation of
most of your friends among the women of the world. But it has not
been so with me, — I see, and always have seen, during the last
sixteen years. You may, perhaps, have hidden a thought; but not a
step, not an action, not a fault, has escaped me, while you
flattered yourself upon your address, and firmly believed you had
deceived me. What has been the result? — that, thanks to my
pretended ignorance, there is none of your friends, from M. depretended ignorance, there is none of your friends, from M. de
Villefort to M. Debray, who has not trembled before me. There is
not one who has not treated me as the master of the house, — the
only title I desire with respect to you; there is not one, in fact,
who would have dared to speak of me as I have spoken of them this
day. I will allow you to make me hateful, but I will prevent your
rendering me ridiculous, and, above all, I forbid you to ruin
me."
The baroness had been tolerably composed until the name of
Villefort had been pronounced; but then she became pale, and,
rising, as if touched by a spring, she stretched out her hands as
though conjuring an apparition; she then took two or three steps
towards her husband, as though to tear the secret from him, of
which he was ignorant, or which he withheld from some odious
calculation, — odious, as all his calculations were. "M. de
Villefort! — What do you mean?"
"I mean that M. de Nargonne, your first husband, being neither a
philosopher nor a banker, or perhaps being both, and seeing there
was nothing to be got out of a king's attorney, died of grief or
anger at finding, after an absence of nine months, that you had
been enceinte six. I am brutal, — I not only allow it, but boast of
it; it is one of the reasons of my success in commercial business.
Why did he kill himself instead of you? Because he had no cash to
save. My life belongs to my cash. M. Debray has made me lose
700,000 francs; let him bear his share of the loss, and we will go
on as before; if not, let him become bankrupt for the 250,000
livres, and do as all bankrupts do — disappear. He is a charming
fellow, I allow, when his news is correct; but when it is not,
there are fifty others in the world who would do better than
he."
Madame Danglars was rooted to the spot; she made a violent
effort to reply to this last attack, but she fell upon a chair
thinking of Villefort, of the dinner scene, of the strange series
of misfortunes which had taken place in her house during the lastof misfortunes which had taken place in her house during the last
few days, and changed the usual calm of her establishment to a
scene of scandalous debate. Danglars did not even look at her,
though she did her best to faint. He shut the bedroom door after
him, without adding another word, and returned to his apartments;
and when Madame Danglars recovered from her half-fainting
condition, she could almost believe that she had had a disagreeable
dream.Let us leave the banker driving his horses at their fullest
speed, and follow Madame Danglars in her morning excursion. We have
said that at half-past twelve o'clock Madame Danglars had ordered
her horses, and had left home in the carriage. She directed her
course towards the Faubourg Saint Germain, went down the Rue
Mazarine, and stopped at the Passage du Pont-Neuf. She descended,
and went through the passage. She was very plainly dressed, as
would be the case with a woman of taste walking in the morning. At
the Rue Guenegaud she called a cab, and directed the driver to go
to the Rue de Harlay. As soon as she was seated in the vehicle, she
drew from her pocket a very thick black veil, which she tied on to
her straw bonnet. She then replaced the bonnet, and saw with
pleasure, in a little pocket-mirror, that her white complexion and
brilliant eyes were alone visible. The cab crossed the Pont-Neuf
and entered the Rue de Harlay by the Place Dauphine; the driver was
paid as the door opened, and stepping lightly up the stairs Madame
Danglars soon reached the Salle des Pas-Perdus.
There was a great deal going on that morning, and many
business-like persons at the Palais; business-like persons pay very
little attention to women, and Madame Danglars crossed the hall
without exciting any more attention than any other woman calling
upon her lawyer. There was a great press of people in M. de
Villefort's ante-chamber, but Madame Danglars had no occasion even
to pronounce her name. The instant she appeared the door-keeper
rose, came to her, and asked her whether she was not the person
with whom the procureur had made an appointment; and on her
affirmative answer being given, he conducted her by a private
passage to M. de Villefort's office. The magistrate was seated in
an arm-chair, writing, with his back towards the door; he did not
move as he heard it open, and the door-keeper pronounce the words,
"Walk in, madame," and then reclose it; but no sooner had the man's