Chapter 8

1

Unusual strength of character, unbounded confidence in one's own energy, with thorough contempt of danger, and an invincible determination to triumph or perish, are all required of the person who, like Mademoiselle Marguerite, intrusts herself to the care of strangers - worse yet, to the care of actual enemies. It is no small matter to place yourself in the power of smooth-tongued hypocrites and impostors, who are anxious for your ruin, and whom you know to be capable of anything. And the task is a mighty one - to brave unknown dangers, perilous seductions, perfidious counsels, and perhaps even violence, at the same time retaining a calm eye and smiling lips. Yet such was the heroism that Marguerite, although scarcely twenty, displayed when she left the Hotel de Chalusse to accept the hospitality of the Fondege family. And, to crown all, she took Madame Leon with her - Madame Leon, whom she knew to be the Marquis de Valorsay's spy.

But, brave as she was, when the moment of departure came her heart almost failed her. There was despair in the parting glance she cast upon the princely mansion and the familiar faces of the servants. And there was no one to encourage or sustain her. Ah, yes! standing at a window on the second floor, with his forehead pressed close against the pane of glass, she saw the only friend she had in the world - the old magistrate who had defended, encouraged, and sustained her - the man who had promised her his assistance and advice, and prophesied ultimate success.

"Shall I be a coward?" she thought; "shall I be unworthy of Pascal?" And she resolutely entered the carriage, mentally exclaiming: "The die is cast!"

The General insisted that she should take a place beside Madame de Fondege on the back seat; while he found a place next to Madame Leon on the seat facing them. The drive was a silent and tedious one. The night was coming on; it was a time when all Paris was on the move, and the carriage was delayed at each street corner by a crowd of passing vehicles. The conversation was solely kept alive by the exertions of Madame de Fondege, whose shrill voice rose above the rumble of the wheels, as she chronicled the virtues of the late Count de Chalusse, and congratulated Mademoiselle Marguerite on the wisdom of her decision. Her remarks were of a commonplace description, and yet each word she uttered evinced intense satisfaction, almost delight, as if she had won some unexpected victory. Occasionally, the General leaned from the carriage window to see if the vehicle laden with Mademoiselle Marguerite's trunks was following them, but he said nothing.

At last they reached his residence in the Rue Pigalle. He alighted first, offered his hand successively to his wife, Mademoiselle Marguerite, and Madame Leon, and motioned the coachman to drive away.

But the man did not stir. "Pardon - excuse me, monsieur," he said, "but my employers bade - requested me -  - "

"What?"

"To ask you - you know, for the fare - thirty-five francs - not counting the little gratuity."

"Very well! - I will pay you to-morrow."

"Excuse me, monsieur; but if it is all the same to you, would you do so this evening? My employer said that the bill had been standing a long time already."

"What, scoundrel!"

But Madame de Fondege, who was on the point of entering the house, suddenly stepped back, and drawing out her pocketbook, exclaimed: "That's enough! Here are thirty-five francs."

The man went to his carriage lamp to count the money, and seeing that he had the exact amount - "And my gratuity?" he asked.

"I give none to insolent people," replied the General.

"You should take a cab if you haven't money enough to pay for coaches," replied the driver with an oath. "I'll be even with you yet."

Marguerite heard no more, for Madame de Fondege caught her by the arm and hurried her up the staircase, saying: "Quick! we must make haste. Your baggage is here already, and we must see if the rooms I intended for you - for you and your companion - suit you."

When Marguerite reached the second floor, Madame de Fondege hunted in her pocket for her latch-key. Not finding it, she rang. A tall man-servant of impudent appearance and arrayed in a glaring livery opened the door, carrying an old battered iron candlestick, in which a tiny scrap of candle was glaring and flickering. "What!" exclaimed Madame de Fondege, "the reception-room not lighted yet? This is scandalous! What have you been doing in my absence? Come, make haste. Light the lamp. Tell the cook that I have some guests to dine with me. Call my maid. See that M. Gustave's room is in order. Go down and see if the General doesn't need your assistance about the baggage."

Finding it difficult to choose between so many contradictory orders, the servant did not choose at all. He placed his rusty candlestick on one of the side-tables in the reception-room, and gravely, without saying a single word, went out into the passage leading to the kitchen. "Evariste!" cried Madame de Fondege, crimson with anger, "Evariste, you insolent fellow!"

As he deigned no reply, she rushed out in pursuit of him. And soon the sound of a violent altercation arose; the servant lavishing insults upon his mistress, and she unable to find any response, save, "I dismiss you; you are an insolent scamp - I dismiss you."

Madame Leon, who was standing near Mademoiselle Marguerite in the reception-room, seemed greatly amused. "This is a strange household," said she. "A fine beginning, upon my word."

But the worthy housekeeper was the last person on earth to whom Mademoiselle Marguerite wished to reveal her thoughts. "Hush, Leon," she replied. "We are the cause of all this disturbance, and I am very sorry for it."

The retort that rose to the housekeeper's lips was checked by the return of Madame de Fondege, followed by a servant-girl with a turn-up nose, a pert manner, and who carried a lighted candle in her hand.

"How can I apologize, madame," began Mademoiselle Marguerite, "for all the trouble I am giving you?"

"Ah! my dear child, I've never been so happy. Come, come, and see your room." And while they crossed several scantily-furnished apartments, Madame de Fondege continued: "It is I who ought to apologize to you. I fear you will pine for the splendors of the Hotel de Chalusse. We are not millionaires like your poor father. We have only a modest competence, no more. But here we are!"