Part 44 (1/2)

He turned to his desk and feverishly wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper, which he put into an envelope and sealed it:

”See,” he said, ”here's my secret.... It was my whole life....”

And, so saying, he suddenly pressed against his temple a revolver which he had produced from under a pile of papers and fired.

With a quick movement, Hortense struck up his arm. The bullet struck the mirror of a cheval-gla.s.s. But Pancaldi collapsed and began to groan, as though he were wounded.

Hortense made a great effort not to lose her composure:

”Renine warned me,” she reflected. ”The man's a play-actor. He has kept the envelope. He has kept his revolver, I won't be taken in by him.”

Nevertheless, she realized that, despite his apparent calmness, the attempt at suicide and the revolver-shot had completely unnerved her. All her energies were dispersed, like the sticks of a bundle whose string has been cut; and she had a painful impression that the man, who was grovelling at her feet, was in reality slowly getting the better of her.

She sat down, exhausted. As Renine had foretold, the duel had not lasted longer than a few minutes but it was she who had succ.u.mbed, thanks to her feminine nerves and at the very moment when she felt ent.i.tled to believe that she had won.

The man Pancaldi was fully aware of this; and, without troubling to invent a transition, he ceased his jeremiads, leapt to his feet, cut a sort of agile caper before Hortense' eyes and cried, in a jeering tone:

”Now we are going to have a little chat; but it would be a nuisance to be at the mercy of the first pa.s.sing customer, wouldn't it?”

He ran to the street-door, opened it and pulled down the iron shutter which closed the shop. Then, still hopping and skipping, he came back to Hortense:

”Oof! I really thought I was done for! One more effort, madam, and you would have pulled it off. But then I'm such a simple chap! It seemed to me that you had come from the back of beyond, as an emissary of Providence, to call me to account; and, like a fool, I was about to give the thing back.... Ah, Mlle. Hortense--let me call you so: I used to know you by that name--Mlle. Hortense, what you lack, to use a vulgar expression, is gut.”

He sat down beside her and, with a malicious look, said, savagely:

”The time has come to speak out. Who contrived this business? Not you; eh?

It's not in your style. Then who?... I have always been honest in my life, scrupulously honest ... except once ... in the matter of that clasp. And, whereas I thought the story was buried and forgotten, here it is suddenly raked up again. Why? That's what I want to know.”

Hortense was no longer even attempting to fight. He was bringing to bear upon her all his virile strength, all his spite, all his fears, all the threats expressed in his furious gestures and on his features, which were both ridiculous and evil:

”Speak, I want to know. If I have a secret foe, let me defend myself against him! Who is he? Who sent you here? Who urged you to take action? Is it a rival incensed by my good luck, who wants in his turn to benefit by the clasp? Speak, can't you, d.a.m.n it all ... or, I swear by Heaven, I'll make you!...”

She had an idea that he was reaching out for his revolver and stepped back, holding her arms before her, in the hope of escaping.

They thus struggled against each other; and Hortense, who was becoming more and more frightened, not so much of the attack as of her a.s.sailant's distorted face, was beginning to scream, when Pancaldi suddenly stood motionless, with his arms before him, his fingers outstretched and his eyes staring above Hortense's head:

”Who's there? How did you get in?” he asked, in a stifled voice.

Hortense did not even need to turn round to feel a.s.sured that Renine was coming to her a.s.sistance and that it was his inexplicable appearance that was causing the dealer such dismay. As a matter of fact, a slender figure stole through a heap of easy chairs and sofas: and Renine came forward with a tranquil step.

”Who are you?” repeated Pancaldi. ”Where do you come from?”

”From up there,” he said, very amiably, pointing to the ceiling.

”From up there?”

”Yes, from the first floor. I have been the tenant of the floor above this for the past three months. I heard a noise just now. Some one was calling out for help. So I came down.”

”But how did you get in here?”