Faithful to the programme laid down by his accomplice, while Louis watched at Oloron, Raoul remained in Paris with the purpose of recovering the confidence and affection of Mme. Fauvel, and of lulling any suspicions which might arise in her breast.
The task was difficult, but not impossible.
Mme. Fauvel had been distressed by Raoul's wild extravagance, but had never ceased to love him.
Whatever faults he had committed, whatever future follies he might indulge in, he would always remain her best-loved child, her first- born, the living image of her noble, handsome Gaston, the lover of her youth.
She adored her two sons, Lucien and Abel; but she could not overcome an indulgent weakness for the unfortunate child, torn from her arms the day of his birth, abandoned to the mercies of hired strangers, and for twenty years deprived of home influences and a mother's love.
She blamed herself for Raoul's misconduct, and accepted the responsibility of his sins, saying to herself, "It is my fault. But for me, he would not have been exposed to the temptations of the world."
Knowing these to be her sentiments, Raoul did not hesitate to take advantage of them.
Never were more irresistible fascinations employed for the accomplishment of a wicked object. Beneath an air of innocent frankness, this precocious scoundrel concealed wonderful astuteness and penetration. He could at will adorn himself with the confiding artlessness of youth, so that angels might have yielded to the soft look of his large dark eyes. There were few women living who could have resisted the thrilling tones of his sympathetic voice.
During the month of Louis's absence, Mme. Fauvel was in a state of comparative happiness.
Never had this mother and wife--this pure, innocent woman, in spite of her first and only fault--enjoyed such tranquillity. She felt as one under the influence of enchantment, while revelling in the sunshine of filial love, which almost bore the character of a lover's passion; for Raoul's devotion was ardent and constant, his manner so tender and winning, that anyone would have taken him for Mme. Fauvel's suitor.
As she was still at her country-seat, and M. Fauvel went into the city every morning at nine o'clock, and did not return till six, she had the whole of her time to devote to Raoul. When she had spent the morning with him at his house in Vesinet, she would often bring him home to dine and spend the evening with her.
All his past faults were forgiven, or rather the whole blame of them was laid upon Clameran; for, now that he was absent, had not Raoul once more become her noble, generous, affectionate son, the pride and consolation of her life?
Raoul enjoyed the life he was leading, and took such an interest in the part that he was playing, that his acting was perfect. He possessed the faculty which makes cheats successful, faith in his own impostures. Sometimes he would stop to think whether he was telling the truth, or acting a shameful comedy.
His success was wonderful. Even Madeleine, the prudent, distrustful Madeleine, without being able to shake off her prejudice against the young adventurer, confessed that perhaps she had been influenced by appearances, and had judged unjustly.
Raoul not only never asked for money, but even refused it when offered; saying that, now that his uncle was away, his expenses were but trifling.
Affairs were in this happy state when Louis arrived from Oloron.
Although now immensely rich, he resolved to make no change in his style of living, but returned to his apartments at the Hotel du Louvre.
His only outlay was the purchase of a handsome carriage; and this was driven by Manuel, who consented to enter his service, although Gaston had left him a handsome little fortune, more than sufficient to support him comfortably.
Louis's dream, the height of his ambition, was to be ranked among the great manufacturers of France.
He was prouder of being called "iron-founder" than of his marquisate.
During his adventurous life, he had met with so many titled gamblers and cut-throats, that he no longer believed in the prestige of nobility. It was impossible to distinguish the counterfeit from the genuine. He thought what was so easily imitated was not worth the having.
Dearly bought experience had taught him that our unromantic century attaches no value to armorial bearings, unless their possessor is rich enough to display them upon a splendid coach.
One can be a marquis without a marquisate, but it is impossible to be a forge-master without owning iron-works.
Louis now thirsted for the homage of the world. All the badly digested humiliations of the past weighed upon him.
He had suffered so much contempt and scorn from his fellow-men, that he burned to avenge himself. After a disgraceful youth, he longed to live a respected and honored old age.
His past career disturbed him little. He was sufficiently acquainted with the world to know that the noise of his coach-wheels would silence the jeers of those who knew his former life.
These thoughts fermented in Louis's brain as he journeyed from Pau to Paris. He troubled his mind not in the least about Raoul, determined to use him as a tool so long as he needed his services, and then pay him a large sum if he would go back to England.
All these plans and thoughts were afterward found noted down in the diary which he had in his pocket at the time of the journey.
The first interview between the accomplices took place at the Hotel du Louvre.
Raoul, having a practical turn of mind, said he thought that they both ought to be contented with the result already obtained, and that it would be folly to try and grasp anything more.
"What more do we want?" he asked his uncle. "We now possess over a million; let us divide it and keep quiet. We had better be satisfied with our good luck, and not tempt Providence."
But this moderation did not suit Louis.
"I am rich," he replied, "but I desire more than wealth. I am determined to marry Madeleine: I swear she shall be my wife! In the first place, I madly love her, and then, as the nephew of the most eminent banker in Paris, I at once gain high position and public consideration."
"I tell you, uncle, your courtship will involve you in great risks."
"I don't care if it does. I choose to run them. My intention is to share my fortune with you; but I will not do so till the day after my wedding. Madeleine's fortune will then be yours."
Raoul was silent. Clameran held the money, and was therefore master of the situation.
"You don't seem to anticipate any difficulty in carrying out your wishes," he said discontentedly; "how are you to account for your suddenly acquired fortune? M. Fauvel knows that a Clameran lived at Oloron, and had money in his bank. You tell him that you never heard of this person bearing your name, and then, at the end of the month, you come and say that you have inherited his fortune. People don't inherit fortunes from perfect strangers; so you had better trump up some relationship."
"You are an innocent youth, nephew; your ingenuousness is amusing."
"Explain yourself."
"Certainly. The banker, his wife, and Madeleine must be informed that the Clameran of
Oloron was a natural son of my father, consequently my brother, born at Hamburg, and recognized during the emigration. Of course, he wished to leave his fortune to his own family. This is the story which you must tell Mme. Fauvel to-morrow."
"That is a bold step to take."
"How so?"
"Inquiries might be made."
"Who would make them? The banker would not trouble himself to do so. What difference is it to him whether I had a brother or not? My title as heir is legally authenticated; and all he has to do is to pay the money he holds, and there his business ends."
"I am not afraid of his giving trouble."
"Do you think that Mme. Fauvel and her niece will ask any questions? Why should they? They have no grounds for suspicion. Besides, they cannot take a step without compromising themselves. If they knew all our secrets I would not have the least fear of their making revelations. They have sense enough to know that they had best keep quiet."
Not finding any other objections to make, Raoul said:
"Very well, then, I obey you; but I am not to call upon Mme. Fauvel for any more money, am I?"
"And why not, pray?"
"Because, my uncle, you are rich now."
"Suppose I am rich," replied Louis, triumphantly; "what is that to you? Have we not quarrelled about the means of making this money? and did you not heap abuse upon me until I consider myself justified in refusing you any assistance whatever? However, I will overlook the past. And, when I explain my present plan, you will feel ashamed of your former doubts and suspicion. You will say with me, 'Success is certain.'"
Louis de Clameran's scheme was very simple, and therefore unfortunately presented the strongest chances of success.
"We will go back and look at our balance-sheet. As heretofore, my brilliant nephew, you seem to have misunderstood my management of this affair; I will now explain it to you."
"I am listening."
"In the first place, I presented myself to Mme. Fauvel, and said not, 'Your money or your life,' but 'Your money or your reputation!' It was a rude blow to strike, but effective. As I expected, she was frightened, and regarded me with the greatest aversion."
"Aversion is a mild term, uncle." "I know that. Then I brought you upon the scene; and, without flattering you in the least, I must say that your opening act was a perfect success. I was concealed behind the curtain, and saw your first interview; it was sublime! She saw you, and loved you: you spoke a few words and won her heart."
"And but for you?"
"Let me finish. This was the first act of our comedy. Let us pass to the second. Your extravagant follies--your grandfather would have said, your dissoluteness--soon changed our respective situations. Mme. Fauvel, without ceasing to worship you--you resemble Gaston so closely--was uneasy about you. She was so frightened that she was forced to come to me for assistance."
"Poor woman!"
"I acted my part very well, as you must confess. I was grave, cold, indignant, and represented the distressed uncle to perfection. I spoke of the old probity of the Clamerans, and bemoaned that the family honor should be dragged in the dust by a degenerate descendant. For a short time I triumphed at your expense; Mme. Fauvel forgot her former prejudice against me, and soon showed that she esteemed and liked me."
"That must have been a long time ago."
Louis paid no attention to this ironical interruption.
"Now we come to the third scene," he went on to say, "the time when Mme. Fauvel, having Madeleine for an adviser, judged us at our true value. Oh! you need not flatter yourself that she did not fear and despise us both. If she did not hate you, Raoul, it was because a mother's heart always forgives a sinful child. A mother can despise and worship her son at the same time."
"She has proved it to me in so many touching ways, that!--yes, even I, hardened as I am-was moved, and felt remorse."
"Parbleu! I have felt some pangs myself. Where did I leave off? Oh, yes! Mme. Fauvel was frightened, and Madeleine, bent on sacrificing herself, had discarded Prosper, and consented to marry me, when the existence of Gaston was suddenly revealed. And what has happened since? You have succeeded in convincing Mme. Fauvel that you are pure, and that I am blacker than hell. She is blinded by your noble qualities, and she and Madeleine regard me as your evil genius, whose pernicious influence led you astray."
"You are right, my venerated uncle; that is precisely the position you occupy."
"Very good. Now we come to the fifth act, and our comedy needs entire change of scenery. We must veer around."
"Change our tactics?" "You think it difficult, I suppose? Nothing easier. Listen attentively, for the future depends upon your skilfulness."
Raoul leaned back in his chair, with folded arms, as if prepared for anything, and said:
"I am ready."
"The first thing for you to do," said Louis, "is to go to Mme. Fauvel to-morrow, and tell her the story about my natural brother. She will not believe you, but that makes no difference. The important thing is, for you to appear convinced of the truth of what you tell her."
"Consider me convinced."
"Five days hence, I will call on M. Fauvel, and confirm the notification sent him by my notary at Oloron, that the money deposited in the bank now belongs to me. I will repeat, for his benefit, the story of the natural brother, and ask him to keep the money until I call for it, as I have no occasion for it at present. You, who are so distrustful, my good nephew, may regard this deposit as a guarantee of my sincerity."
"We will talk of that another time. Go on."
"Then I will go to Mme. Fauvel, and say, 'Being very poor, my dear madame, necessity compelled me to claim your assistance in the support of my brother's son, who is also yours. This youth is worthless and extravagant.'"
"Thanks, my good uncle."
"'He has poisoned your life when he should have added to your happiness; he is a constant anxiety and sorrow to your maternal heart. I have come to offer my regrets for your past trouble, and to assure you that you will have no annoyance in the future. I am now rich, and henceforth take the whole responsibility of Raoul upon myself. I will provide handsomely for him.'"
"Is that what you call a scheme?"
"Parbleu, you will soon see whether it is. After listening to this speech, Mme. Fauvel will feel inclined to throw herself in my arms, by way of expressing her gratitude and joy. She will refrain, however, on account of her niece. She will ask me to relinquish my claim on Madeleine's hand, now that I am rich. I will roundly tell her, No. I will make this an opportunity for an edifying display of magnanimity and disinterestedness. I will say, 'Madame, you have accused me of cupidity. I am now able to prove your injustice. I have been infatuated, as every man must be, by the beauty, grace, and intelligence of Mlle. Madeleine; and--I love her. If she were penniless, my devotion would only be the more ardent. She has been promised to me, and I must insist upon this one article of our agreement. This must be the price of my silence. And, to prove that I am not influenced by her fortune, I give you my sacred promise, that, the day after the wedding, I will send Raoul a stock receipt of twenty-five thousand livres per annum."
Louis expressed himself with such convincing candor, that Raoul, an artist in knavery, was charmed and astonished.
"Beautifully done," he cried, clapping his hands with glee. "That last sentence will create a chasm between Mme. Fauvel and her niece. The promise of a fortune for me will certainly bring my mother over to our side."
"I hope so," said Louis with pretended modesty. "And I have strong reasons for hoping so, as I shall be able to furnish the good lady with excellent arguments for excusing herself in her own eyes. You know when someone proposes some little--what shall we call it?-- transaction to an honest person, it must be accompanied by justifications sufficient to quiet all qualms of conscience. I shall prove to Mme. Fauvel and her niece that Prosper has shamefully deceived them. I shall prove to them that he is cramped by debts, dissipated, and a reckless gambler, openly associating with a woman of no character."
"And very pretty, besides, by Jove! You must not neglect to expatiate upon the beauty and fascinations of the adorable Gypsy; that will be your strongest point."
"Don't be alarmed; I shall be more eloquent than a popular divine. Then I will explain to Mme. Fauvel that if she really loves her niece, she will persuade her to marry, not an insignificant cashier, but a man of position, a great manufacturer, a marquis, and, more than this, one rich enough to establish you in the world."
Raoul was dazzled by this brilliant prospect.
"If you don't decide her, you will make her waver," he said.
"Oh! I don't expect a sudden change. I only intend planting the germ in her mind; thanks to you, it will develop, flourish, and bear fruit."
"Thanks to me?"
"Allow me to finish. After making my speeches I shall disappear from the scene, and your role will commence. Of course your mother will repeat the conversation to you, and then we can judge of the effect produced. But remember, you must scorn to receive any assistance from me. You must swear that you will brave all privation, want, famine even, rather than accept a cent from a base man whom you hate and despise; a man who-- But you know exactly what you are to say. I can rely upon you for good acting."
"No one can surpass me when I am interested in my part. In pathetic roles I am always a success, when I have had time to prepare myself."
"I know you are. But this disinterestedness need not prevent you from resuming your dissipations. You must gamble, bet, and lose more money than you ever did before. You must increase your demands, and say that you must have money at all costs. You need not account to me for any money you can extort from her. All you get is your own to spend as you please."
"You don't say so! If you mean that--"
"You will hurry up matters, I'll be bound."
"I can promise you, no time shall be wasted."
"Now listen to what you are to do, Raoul. Before the end of three months, you must have exhausted the resources of these two women. You must force from them every franc they can raise, so that they will be wholly unable to procure money to supply your increasing demands. In three months I must find them penniless, absolutely ruined, without even a jewel left."
Raoul was startled at the passionate, vindictive tone of Louis's voice as he uttered these last words.
"You must hate these women, if you are so determined to make them miserable," he said.
"I hate them?" cried Louis. "Can't you see that I madly love Madeleine, love her as only a man of my age can love? Is not her image ever in my mind? Does not the very mention of her name fire my heart, and make me tremble like a school-boy?"
"Your great devotion does not prevent you planning the destruction of her present happiness."
"Necessity compels me to do so. Nothing but the most cruel deceptions and the bitterest suffering would ever induce her to become my wife, to take me as the lesser of two evils. The day on which you have led Mme. Fauvel and her niece to the extreme edge of the precipice, pointed out its dark depths, and convinced them that they are irretrievably lost, I shall appear, and rescue them. I will play my part with such grandeur, such lofty magnanimity, that Madeleine will be touched, will forget her past enmity, and regard me with favorable eyes. When she finds that it is her sweet self, and not her money, that I want, she will soften, and in time yield to my entreaties. No true woman can be indifferent to a grand passion. I don't pretend to say that she will love me at first; but, if she will only consent to be mine, I ask for nothing more; time will do much, even for a poor devil like myself."
Raoul was shocked at this cold-blooded perversity of his uncle; but Clameran showed his immense superiority in wickedness, and the apprentice admired the master.
"You would certainly succeed, uncle," he said, "were it not for the cashier. Between you and Madeleine, Prosper will always stand; if not in person, certainly in memory."
Louis smiled scornfully, and, throwing away his cigar, which had died out, said:
"I don't mind Prosper, or attach any more importance to him than to that cigar."
"But she loves him." "So much the worse for him. Six months hence, she will despise him; he is already morally ruined, and at the proper time I will make an end of him socially. Do you know whither the road of dissipation leads, my good nephew? Prosper supports Gypsy, who is extravagant; he gambles, keeps fast horses, and gives suppers. Now, you gamble yourself, and know how much money can be squandered in one night; the losses of baccarat must be paid within twenty-four hours. He has lost heavily, must pay, and--has charge of a money-safe."
Raoul protested against this insinuation.
"It is useless to tell me that he is honest, that nothing would induce him to touch money that does not belong to him. I know better. Parbleu! I was honest myself until I learned to gamble. Any man with a grain of sense would have married Madeleine long ago, and sent us flying bag and baggage. You say she loves him! No one but a coward would be defrauded of the woman he loved and who loved him. Ah, if I had once felt Madeleine's hand tremble in mine, if her rosy lips had once pressed a kiss upon my brow, the whole world could not take her from me. Woe to him who dared stand in my path! As it is, Prosper annoys me, and I intend to suppress him. With your aid I will so cover him with disgrace and infamy, that Madeleine will drive every thought of him from her mind, and her love will turn to hate."
Louis's tone of rage and vengeance startled Raoul, and made him regard the affair in a worse light than ever.
"You have given me a shameful, dastardly role to play," he said after a long pause.
"My honorable nephew has scruples, I suppose," said Clameran sneeringly.
"Not exactly scruples; yet I confess--"
"That you want to retreat? Rather too late to sing that tune, my friend. You wish to enjoy every luxury, have your pockets filled with gold, cut a fine figure in high society, and remain virtuous. Are you fool enough to suppose a poor man can be honest? 'Tis a luxury pertaining to the wealthy. Did you ever see people such as we draw money from the pure fount of virtue? We must fish in muddy waters, and then wash ourselves clean, and enjoy the result of our labor."
"I have never been rich enough to be honest," said Raoul humbly; "but I must say it goes hard with me to torture two defenceless, frightened women, and ruin the character of a poor devil who regards me as his best friend. It is a low business!"
This resistance exasperated Louis to the last degree.
"You are the most absurd, ridiculous fool I ever met," he cried. "An opportunity occurs for us to make an immense fortune. All we have to do is to stretch out our hands and take it; when you must needs prove refractory, like a whimpering baby. Nobody but an ass would refuse to drink when he is thirsty, because he sees a little mud at the bottom of the bucket. I suppose you prefer theft on a small scale, stealing by driblets. And where will your system lead you? To the poor-house or the police-station. You prefer living from hand to mouth, supported by Mme. Fauvel, having small sums doled out to you to pay your little gambling debts."
"I am neither ambitious nor cruel."
"And suppose Mme. Fauvel dies to-morrow: what will become of you? Will you go cringing up to the widower, and implore him to continue your allowance?"
"Enough said," cried Raoul, angrily interrupting his uncle. "I never had any idea of retreating. I made these objections to show you what infamous work you expect of me, and at the same time prove to you that without my assistance you can do nothing."
"I never pretended to the contrary."
"Then, my noble uncle, we might as well settle what my share is to be. Oh! it is not worth while for you to indulge in idle protestations. What will you give me in case of success? and what if we fail?"
"I told you before. I will give you twenty-five thousand livres a year, and all you can secure between now and my wedding-day."
"This arrangement suits me very well; but where are your securities?"
This question was discussed a long time before it was satisfactorily settled by the accomplices, who had every reason to distrust each other.
"What are you afraid of?" asked Clameran.
"Everything," replied Raoul. "Where am I to obtain justice, if you deceive me? From this pretty little poniard? No, thank you. I would be made to pay as dear for your hide, as for that of an honest man."
Finally, after long debate and much recrimination, the matter was arranged, and they shook hands before separating.
Alas! Mme. Fauvel and her niece soon felt the evil effects of the understanding between the villains.
Everything happened as Louis had arranged.
Once more, when Mme. Fauvel had begun to breathe freely, and to hope that her troubles were over, Raoul's conduct suddenly changed; he became more extravagant and dissipated than ever.
Formerly, Mme. Fauvel would have said, "I wonder what he does with all the money I give him?" Now she saw where it went.
Raoul was reckless in his wickedness; he was intimate with actresses, openly lavishing money and jewelry upon them; he drove about with four horses, and bet heavily on every race. Never had he been so exacting and exorbitant in his demands for money; Mme. Fauvel had the greatest difficulty in supplying his wants.
He no longer made excuses and apologies for spending so much; instead of coaxingly entreating, he demanded money as a right, threatening to betray Mme. Fauvel to her husband if she refused him.
At this rate, all the possessions of Mme. Fauvel and Madeleine soon disappeared. In one month, all their money had been squandered. Then they were compelled to resort to the most shameful expedients in the household expenses. They economized in every possible way, making purchases on credit, and making tradesmen wait; then they changed figures in the bills, and even invented accounts of things never bought.
These imaginary costly whims increased so rapidly, that M. Fauvel one day said, as he signed a large check, "Upon my word, ladies, you will buy out all the stores, if you keep on this way. But nothing pleases me better than to see you gratify every wish."
Poor women! For months they had bought nothing, but had lived upon the remains of their former splendor, having all their old dresses made over, to keep up appearances in society.
More clear-sighted than her aunt, Madeleine saw plainly that the day would soon come when everything would have to be explained.
Although she knew that the sacrifices of the present would avail nothing in the future, that all this money was being thrown away without securing her aunt's peace of mind, yet she was silent. A high- minded delicacy made her conceal her apprehensions beneath an assumed calmness.
The fact of her sacrificing herself made her refrain from uttering anything like a complaint or censure. She seemed to forget herself entirely in her efforts to comfort her aunt.
"As soon as Raoul sees we have nothing more to give," she would say, "he will come to his senses, and stop all this extravagance."
The day came when Mme. Fauvel and Madeleine found it impossible to give another franc.
The evening previous, Mme. Fauvel had a dinner-party, and with difficulty scraped together enough money to defray the expenses.
Raoul appeared, and said that he was in the greatest need of money, being forced to pay a debt of two thousand francs at once.
In vain they implored him to wait a few days, until they could with propriety ask M. Fauvel for money. He declared that he must have it now, and that he would not leave the house without it.
"But I have no way of getting it for you," said Mme. Fauvel desperately; "you have taken everything from me. I have nothing left but my diamonds: do you want them? If they can be of use, take them."
Hardened as the young villain was, he blushed at these words.
He felt pity for this unfortunate woman, who had always been so kind and indulgent to him, who had so often lavished upon him her maternal caresses. He felt for the noble girl who was the innocent victim of a vile plot.
But he was bound by an oath; he knew that a powerful hand would save these women at the brink of the precipice. More than this, he saw an immense fortune at the end of his road of crime, and quieted his conscience by saying that he would redeem his present cruelty by honest kindness in the future. Once out of the clutches of Clameran, he would be a better man, and try to return some of the kind affection shown him by these poor women.
Stifling his better impulses, he said harshly to Mme. Fauvel, "Give me the jewels; I will take them to the pawnbroker's." Mme. Fauvel handed him a box containing a set of diamonds. It was a present from her husband the day he became worth a million.
And so pressing was the want of these women who were surrounded by princely luxury, with their ten servants, beautiful blooded horses, and jewels which were the admiration of Paris, that they implored him to bring them some of the money which he would procure on the diamonds, to meet their daily wants.
He promised, and kept his word.
But they had revealed a new source, a mine to be worked; he took advantage of it.
One by one, all Mme. Fauvel's jewels followed the way of the diamonds; and, when hers were all gone, those of Madeleine were given up.
A recent law-suit, which showed how a young and beautiful woman had been kept in a state of terror and almost poverty, by a rascal who had possession of her letters, a sad case which no honest man could read without blushing for his sex, has revealed to what depths human infamy can descend.
And such abominable crimes are not so rare as people suppose.
How many men are supported entirely by stolen secrets, from the coachman who claims ten louis every month of the foolish girl whom he drove to a rendezvous, to the elegant dandy in light kids, who discovered a financial swindle, and makes the parties interested buy his silence, cannot be known.
This is called the extortion of hush-money, the most