"Better kill her at once," said Mlle. Gilberte coldly. "She would suffer less."
It was by a torrent of invective that M. Favoral replied. His rage, dammed up for the past four days, finding at last an outlet, flowed in gross insults and insane threats. He spoke of throwing out in the street his wife and children, or starving them out, or shutting up his daughter in a house of correction; until at last, language failing his fury, beside himself, he left, swearing that he would bring M. Costeclar home himself, and then they would see.
"Very well, we shall see," said Mlle. Gilberte.
Motionless in his place, and white as a plaster cast, Maxence had witnessed this lamentable scene. A gleam of common-sense had enabled him to control his indignation, and to remain silent. He had understood, that, at the first word, his father's fury would have turned against him; and then what might have happened? The most frightful dramas of the criminal courts have often had no other origin.
"No, this is no longer bearable!" he exclaimed.
Even at the time of his greatest follies, Maxence had always had for his sister a fraternal affection. He admired her from the day she had stood up before him to reproach him for his misconduct. He envied her her quiet determination, her patient tenacity, and that calm energy that never failed her.
"Have patience, my poor Gilberte," he added: "the day is not far, I hope, when I may commence to repay you all you have done for me.
I have not lost my time since you restored me my reason. I have arranged with my creditors. I have found a situation, which, if not brilliant, is at least sufficiently lucrative to enable me before long to offer you, as well as to our mother, a peaceful retreat."
"But it is to-morrow," interrupted Mme. Favoral, "to-morrow that your father is to bring M. Costeclar. He has said so, and he will do it."
And so he did. About two o'clock in the afternoon M. Favoral and his protege arrived in the Rue St. Gilles, in that famous coupe with the two horses, which excited the wonder of the neighbors.
But Mlle. Gilberte bad her plan ready. She was on the lookout; and, as soon as she heard the carriage stop, she ran to her room, undressed in a twinkling, and went to bed.
When her father came for her, and saw her in bed, he remained surprised and puzzled on the threshold of the door.
"And yet I'll make you come into the parlor!" he said in a hoarse voice.
"Then you must carry me there as I am," she said in a tone of defiance; "for I shall certainly not get up."
For the first time since his marriage, M. Favoral met in his own house a more inflexible will than his own, and a more unyielding obstinacy. He was baffled. He threatened his daughter with his clinched fists, but could discover no means of ****** her obey.
He was compelled to surrender, to yield.
"This will be settled with the rest," he growled, as he went out.
"I fear nothing in the world, father," said the girl.
It was almost true, so much did the thought of Marius de Tregars inflame her courage. Twice already she had heard from him through the Signor Gismondo Pulei, who never tired talking of this new pupil, to whom he had already given two lessons.
"He is the most gallant man in the world," he said, his eye sparkling with enthusiasm, " and the bravest, and the most generous, and the best; and no quality that can adorn one of God's creatures shall be wanting in him when I have taught him the divine art. It is not with a little contemptible gold that he means to reward my zeal.
To him I am as a second father; and it is with the confidence of a son that he explains to me his labors and his hopes."
Thus Mlle. Gilberte learned through the old maestro, that the newspaper article she had read was almost exactly true, and that M. de Tregars and M. Marcolet had become associated for the purpose of working, in joint account, certain recent discoveries, which bid fair to yield large profits in a near future.
"And yet it is for my sake alone that he has thus thrown himself into the turmoil of business, and has become as eager for gain as that M. Marcolet himself."
And, at the height of her father's persecutions, she felt glad of what she had done, and of her boldness in placing her destiny in the hands of a stranger. The memory of Marius had become her refuge, the element of all her dreams and of all her hopes; in a word, her life.
It was of Marius she was thinking, when her mother, surprising her gazing into vacancy, would ask her, "What are you thinking of?" And, at every new vexation she had to endure, her imagination decked him with a new quality, and she clung to him with a more desperate grasp.
"How much he would grieve," thought she, "if he knew of what persecution I am the object!"
And very careful was she not to allow the Signor Gismondo Pulei to suspect any thing of it, affecting, on the contrary, in his presence, the most cheerful serenity.
And yet she was a prey to the most cruel anxiety, since she observed a new and most incredible transformation in her father.
That man so violent and so harsh, who flattered himself never to have been bent, who boasted never to have forgotten or forgiven any thing, that domestic tyrant, had become quite a debonair personage.
He had referred to the expedient imagined by Mlle. Gilberte only to laugh at it, saying that it was a good trick, and he deserved it; for he repented bitterly, he protested, his past brutalities.
He owned that he had at heart his daughter's marriage with M.
Costeclar; but he acknowledged that he had made use of the surest means for ****** it fail. He should, he humbly confessed, have expected every thing of time and circumstances, of M. Costeclar's excellent qualities, and of his beautiful, darling daughter's good sense.
More than of all his violence, Mme. Favoral was terrified at this affected good nature.
"Dear me!" she sighed, "what does it all mean?"
But the cashier of the Mutual Credit was not preparing any new surprise to his family. If the means were different, it was still the same object that he was pursuing with the tenacity of an insect.