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The Dark Road: Further Adventures of Chéri-Bibi

<h4>CHAPTER XVIII</h4> <h4>THE NUT ON THE RACK</h4> But we must return to M. de Saynthine. That evening when he left M. Onésime Belon, with whom he had a long discussion, he passed through the little door leading to the deserted street on the seafront, and turned his steps towards the light of the town. He walked past the pier, crossed the public gardens, stopped before Violette's shop and exclaimed: "Hullo, Giselle is working late to-night!" M. de Saynthine was in love. In reality M. de Saynthine was always in love, on principle. He possessed the sentimental temperament of a certain Arigonde, alias the Parisian, who, in his youth, had achieved notoriety as a squire of dames. We know that this notoriety had landed him in the Assize Court, and even beyond that Court, as a result of irretrievable accidents which had befallen the ladies to whom he paid court. The few years that he had spent in the convict settlement had by no means extinguished his ardor. In the early days this lady-killer was prodigal of his favors and not very particular in the choice of his partners. But he had become tired of so many commonplace adventures and victories won, as it were, before a shot was fired, that he felt the longing for an affair which would be more difficult to complete, more serious and more lasting. He had encountered Giselle at Violette's shop in Paris, for Nina Noha was one of its customers. Nina Noha, to serve her own purposes, which may be imagined—particularly if it is remembered that she was of Hungarian descent and quite recently naturalized—never lost an opportunity of introducing M. de Saynthine into society circles as an old friend, who was interested in stock breeding in the Argentine, and who had come to France on the declaration of war to discover the most effective means of serving his country. The truth—unfortunately only too obvious—was that enemy propaganda, which was always on the lookout to increase its army of spies in the old as well as the new world, had its ramifications even in the gold-diggings in Guiana, and had enlisted the Parisian and his gang at a moment, when, having escaped a second time from their prison, they reached, in utter destitution, the frontier of Dutch Guiana. Enemy agents had at once seen how to turn those miscreants to account, and had supplied them with the necessary social status to enable them to live in France. Nina Noha had to take the Parisian in hand, and when she was entrusted with the mission of organizing a system of espionage among the fashionable crowd on the Riviera, she brought the Parisian with her, and his gang followed. The Parisian's first intention had been to make love to the dancer, but she repressed him so remorselessly that he accepted his rejection without demur. "We are not here to amuse ourselves," she flung at him. The consciousness that he was her subordinate was extremely distasteful to M. de Saynthine. Until he had succeeded in striking the blow which he was meditating against the Nut, he sought, therefore, to pass the time and console himself for Nina Noha's contempt by engaging in one of those little sentimental intrigues in which he was a past master. Giselle's handsome face, with its touch of sadness, appealed to him from the first—from the day on which he saw her when he accompanied Nina Noha on one of her visits to Violette's. While he was at Nice he happened to pass Violette's shop and he caught sight of the young girl. After that he endeavored, without success, to induce her to respond to his advances, and he was delighted with her. Some degree of opposition was by no means unwelcome to him. That evening again his footsteps led him quite naturally to Violette's shop. And now he was watching Giselle, not without excitement, putting things back in their proper places before her departure. He knew that she lived in the Rue d'Angleterre, for he had followed her so far, and he determined to make the same little trip that evening. Accordingly it was with a feeling of great annoyance that, when the shop door suddenly opened, he saw standing before him Nina Noha and her maid. "What are you doing here, de Saynthine? I say, come along with me to my place. I want to talk to you." "But, my dear lady, I happen to have an appointment——" "Tut, tut! You're waiting for Giselle, aren't you? Oh, you wonder how I know what you're up to! Giselle made a complaint to the elder Mademoiselle Violette, and she told me all about it But your love affairs are no business of mine. Come with me. Someone is waiting to have a chat with you." He could not choose but obey. He was incensed. He thought that he might even yet be able to meet Giselle before she reached the Rue d'Angleterre. When they were in Nina Noha's flat, she opened a door which, till then, de Saynthine thought was permanently closed. The door connected her flat with the adjoining flat. She went into it and he heard her say: "Yes, my dress will be ready to-morrow evening." And a voice, which he did not at once recognize, asked: "Do you know whether the d'Haumonts will be at Madame d'Erlande's?" "Yes, they'll be there. I heard so from Mdlle. Violette, who saw Madame d'Haumont to-day." A few words were exchanged in a whisper, and Nina Noha returned and requested M. de Saynthine to go into the next flat. He saw a man with a pallid face and feverish eyes lying on a sofa. "Oh, Monsieur le Comte!" he exclaimed. "Yes, it's I, come back to life again, or nearly so. I've had a narrow escape. That Captain d'Haumont shoots like a duffer, but we shall be even with him, don't you think, de Saynthine?" "Yes, Monsieur le Comte." "But who is the man? No d'Haumont has lived in France for the last fifty years. Here's a man who came back from away in Guiana with millions. It seems that he has a splendid business out there in the forest. All the same, you can't keep a business like that secret. I have had inquiries made. Who is d'Haumont? He is quite unknown in Guiana. Have you fellows in your wanderings through the country ever heard of d'Haumont's business?" "No, certainly not. His business must be on the Upper Oyapok, and even farther away. It's a very uncivilized place. People never go there. But in those parts one stroke of luck is enough to make a man rich." "It's very funny," interposed Nina Noha. "I saw Captain d'Haumont for the first time at the fête at Valrose, and I had a sort of feeling that his face was not unfamiliar to me." "Oh, one often imagines such things," returned de Saynthine, shaking his head. "Listen to me, de Saynthine," went on de Gorbio. "I have had the closest inquiries made about Captain d'Haumont. There is a gap in his life! We must know what that gap means, my lad." De Saynthine bowed. "I will have a good try, Monsieur le Comte." Having said which, he took his leave. So they had sent for him in order to talk about d'Haumont! "You don't catch me parting with that tit-bit to you," he growled, thinking of his own schemes. As he walked past Violette's shop his thoughts turned once again to Giselle with a rancor which but immensely increased his longing to see the handsome mannequin. But she was no longer there. As a matter of fact, while he was submitting to the caprice of Nina Noha, Giselle had been hastily sent for. Her mother was in an alarming state, and the poor girl had set out distraught. A few minutes later Captain and Madame d'Haumont came to the shop. Mdlle. Violette told them of the blow which was threatening her assistant, and Didier at once suggested that they should go and call on her. Somewhat surprised to see her husband display so much anxiety, Françoise none the less expressed her agreement with him; and Mdlle. Violette herself went with them to the Rue d'Angleterre. Five minutes later they knocked at the door of a small flat on the fifth floor. A nurse asked them in, and they found themselves in a sort of entrance-lobby which contained a folding bedstead. It was here that Giselle slept. Mlle. Violette had already slipped into the next room to see the mother, who appeared to be a little better. She had had a fit, but, according to the nurse, the doctor had given them a few words of hope. Mdlle. Violette came back to say that they could see the invalid. They entered a room which was quite tastefully furnished, and Giselle's mother welcomed them with a smile on her pale face. She expressed her gratitude to Didier for what he had done for her daughter and her self in words which brought tears to Françoise's eyes. And she said a few nice things about Françoise and her marriage which stirred the latter to the depths of her being. "But where is Giselle?" asked Didier. "She went downstairs with the doctor. She probably wanted to go with him to learn the truth, the poor child. She fears that I am really ill, though we have done everything we can to hide the truth from her." Françoise and Mlle. Violette assured her that the southern sun would do wonders for her, but that she must not live in rooms where its light never penetrated; and they made arrangements for Madame Anthenay, for such was the mother's name, to take up her abode in a small but comfortable flat on the Quay du Midi where she would be bathed in sunshine from the rising to the setting of the sun. Suddenly they heard loud knocks on the landing door; and when it was opened Giselle flung herself into the room, her face convulsed and her frame shaken with a fit of sobbing. "What's happened? . . . What's the matter?" She endeavored to restrain herself, asking pardon of those whom she had not expected to see for giving way to such a silly exhibition of emotion. "It's nothing. I've had a great fright in the street." "That's not true," exclaimed Mlle. Violette. "I bet it's that man again. He has been following you." "Well, yes, it is he. He has insulted me. He won't leave me alone." Didier sprang from his chair, pale, and with a terrible lode on his face that frightened Françoise. "Who has insulted you?" he demanded in a smothered voice. Mlle. Violette went to the window of the balcony on the roof which looked out on to the street. And she pointed to a man wearing a soft hat and an overcoat with the collar turned up, walking with his hands in his pockets, his stick under his arm. "Yes, that's the man!" she cried. "The wretch follows Giselle every day. We shall have to lodge a complaint." Declining to listen to his wife, who, greatly distressed, begged him to stay where he was, Didier rushed wildly out of the room. * * * * * In truth, in our ordinary, prosaic life men of nobility of mind and goodness of heart are ever eager to throw themselves into the cause of virtue. We may say of these men that they are true knights, for they never lose an opportunity of flying to the rescue of beauty in distress, untouched by any selfish motive or even by the least thought of reward. Such a man was Captain d'Haumont. He had already "done enough" for Giselle by helping her to escape from poverty and enter a good business; and he was entitled to consider that any claim upon his charitable instincts had been fully met. He might have rested content with that. Giselle was old enough to protect herself from the annoyance of a chance wayfarer or even from the deep-laid plots of a rascal. Indifference or contempt on the one hand and a feeling of weariness and wounded pride on the other are enough, as a general rule, to cool the first ardor of a villain who, in his self-complacency, thinks that no one is able to resist him. Captain d'Haumont bounded wildly down the stairs, darted into the street, and looked about for his man, or rather Giselle's man, with the gestures of a bulldog longing for a bite, and it might almost seem as if he had taken leave of his senses. What was Françoise to think about it? She might very well say to herself: "Well, if he gets into such a state of excitement over a stranger to whom someone has been lacking in respect, what will he do when any man looks at me askance? Good gracious, he couldn't possibly show more righteous indignation!" She became quite dejected by the reflection. But as she was, in her own way, inspired with sentiments which did not fall short in generosity those entertained by Captain d'Haumont, whom she loved more for himself than for herself—which is the crowning test of love—she quickly discarded thoughts which she regarded as selfish, and her sole apprehension was as to what lay in store, in this attack, for the man for whom she would have given her life. Mlle. Giselle was no less anxious as to what might happen to her protector, and she expressed aloud her regret for not keeping silent; but she was not aware that Captain d'Haumont was in the room; and, in particular, she had no idea that he would take the matter so much to heart. Her agitation, her apologies, her sorrow, were so sincere and expressed with such real candor that though Françoise might have felt within her as a result of her husband's action—charitable, doubtless, but of an exaggerated charity—a natural antipathy to Giselle, she was the first to console her. They both went downstairs to seek for news, in the same state of agitation and with sinking hearts. Upstairs, Madame Anthenay was almost fainting. Mdlle. Violette was the only person who retained any degree of self-command. "What do you expect to happen? Captain d'Haumont will give the unmannerly brute a piece of his mind and the fellow will make off. You may be certain that we shan't see that 'follower' again." As a matter of fact, at the sight of the Captain waving his stick like a madman, the man buried his face still deeper in the collar of his overcoat, and led away along a street branching off at an angle, and turned his hastening footsteps towards the light of one of the main roads. Captain d'Haumont soon came up to him, but the night was dark. "Don't walk so fast, Monsieur," Captain d'Haumont threw at him. "I've something to say to you." At the sound of that voice the man gave a start but did not slacken his pace. "Wait a moment, if you don't mind," went on d'Haumont. "I want to tell you that you are a coward, and if you don't stop tormenting that girl you'll have me to deal with." But the other made no attempt to halt. Far from it. He strode forward with redoubled speed. "Do you hear?" pursued the mad Didier. "If I catch you following Mlle. Anthenay again I shall punch your head. Besides, you are not going to get away until I've seen your face." And as they came under the light of a street lamp, Captain d'Haumont raised his walking stick and knocked the man's soft hat on to the pavement, uncovering the upper part of his face. At that moment d'Haumont ceased to wave his arms, and uttered a hollow groan as though he had received a blow in the stomach. The man on the other hand did not utter a word. He picked up his hat, rammed it on his head, and went on his way. "The Parisian!" cried Captain d'Haumont in a choking voice. "The Parisian!" And he retraced his steps staggering like a drunken man. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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