Part 42 (1/2)

”Where's my son?” he cried. ”It seems the brute's killed him!... My poor Mathias dead! Oh, that scoundrel of a Vignal!”

And he shook his fist at Jerome.

The deputy said, bluntly:

”A word with you, M. de Gorne. Do you intend to claim your rights under a certain insurance-policy?”

”Well, what do _you_ think?” said the old man, off his guard.

”The fact is ... your son's not dead. People are even saying that you were a partner in his little schemes and that you stuffed him under the tilt of your trap and drove him to the station.”

The old fellow spat on the ground, stretched out his hand as though he were going to take a solemn oath, stood for an instant without moving and then, suddenly, changing his mind and his tactics with ingenuous cynicism, he relaxed his features, a.s.sumed a conciliatory att.i.tude and burst out laughing:

”That blackguard Mathias! So he tried to pa.s.s himself off as dead? What a rascal! And he reckoned on me to collect the insurance-money and send it to him? As if I should be capable of such a low, dirty trick!... You don't know me, my boy!”

And, without waiting for more, shaking with merriment like a jolly old fellow amused by a funny story, he took his departure, not forgetting, however, to set his great hob-nail boots on each of the compromising footprints which his son had left behind him.

Later, when Renine went back to the manor to let Hortense out, he found that she had disappeared.

He called and asked for her at her cousin Ermelin's. Hortense sent down word asking him to excuse her: she was feeling a little tired and was lying down.

”Capital!” thought Renine. ”Capital! She avoids me, therefore she loves me.

The end is not far off.”

VIII

AT THE SIGN OF MERCURY

_To Madame Daniel, La Ronciere, near Ba.s.sicourt._

”PARIS 30 NOVEMBER

”My Dearest Friend,--

”There has been no letter from you for a fortnight; so I don't expect now to receive one for that troublesome date of the 5th of December, which we fixed as the last day of our partners.h.i.+p. I rather wish it would come, because you will then be released from a contract which no longer seems to give you pleasure. To me the seven battles which we fought and won together were a time of endless delight and enthusiasm. I was living beside you. I was conscious of all the good which that more active and stirring existence was doing you. My happiness was so great that I dared not speak of it to you or let you see anything of my secret feelings except my desire to please you and my pa.s.sionate devotion. To-day you have had enough of your brother in arms. Your will shall be law.

”But, though I bow to your decree, may I remind I you what it was that I always believed our final adventure would be? May I repeat your words, not one of which I have forgotten?

”'I demand,' you said, 'that you shall restore to me a small, antique clasp, made of a cornelian set in a filigree mount. It came to me from my mother; and every one knew that it used to bring her happiness and me too.

Since the day when it vanished from my jewel-case, I have had nothing but unhappiness. Restore it to me, my good genius.'

”And, when I asked you when the clasp had disappeared, you answered, with a laugh:

”'Seven years ago ... or eight ... or nine: I don't know exactly.... I don't know when ... I don't know how ... I know nothing about it....'

”You were challenging me, were you not, and you set me that condition because it was one which I could not fulfil? Nevertheless, I promised and I should like to keep my promise. What I have tried to do, in order to place life before you in a more favourable light, would seem purposeless, if your confidence feels the lack of this talisman to which you attach so great a value. We must not laugh at these little superst.i.tions. They are often the mainspring of our best actions.