The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 3 of 6

"Man of iron, that you are!" said M. Charles Robert. "There!" he added, writing the receipt. "There is a lady, closely veiled, who desires to speak to you directly on a very urgent affair. Won't I have a good look at her as I go out! There's your receipt; is it all right?"

"Quite. Now I'll thank you to go out this way."

"And so not see the lady?"

"Precisely so."

And the notary rang; and when the chief clerk made his appearance, he said:

"Ask the lady to walk in. Good day, M. Robert."

"Well, I see I must give up the chance of seeing her. Don't bear malice, lawyer. Believe me, if – "

"There – there; that'll do. Good-bye." And the notary shut the door on M. Charles Robert.

After the lapse of a few moments, the chief clerk introduced the Duchess de Lucenay, very simply attired, wearing a large shawl, and her features entirely concealed by a thick veil of black lace, depending from her watered silk bonnet of the same colour.

Madame de Lucenay, a good deal agitated, walked slowly towards the notary's bureau, who advanced a few paces to meet her.

"Who are you, madame; and what may be your business with me?" said Jacques Ferrand, abruptly; for Sarah's menaces and M. Charles Robert's suspicions had a good deal ruffled him. Moreover, the duchess was clad so simply, that the notary did not see any reason why he should not be rude. As she did not immediately reply, he continued, abruptly:

"Will you be so kind as to inform me, madame?"

"Sir," she said, in a faltering voice, and endeavouring to conceal her face in the folds of her veil, "Sir, may I entrust you with a secret of extreme importance?"

"You may trust me with anything, madame. But it is requisite that I should know and see to whom I speak."

"That, sir, perhaps, is not necessary. I know that you are probity and honour itself – "

"To the point, madame, – to the point. I have some one waiting for me. Who are you?"

"My name is of no consequence, sir. One – of – my friends, – a relative, – has just left you."

"His name?"

"M. Florestan de Saint-Remy."

"Ah!" said the notary; and he cast a scrutinising and steadfast glance on the duchess. Then he added, "Well, madame?"

"M. de Saint-Remy has told me – all, – sir!"

"What has he told you, madame?"

"All!"

"What all?"

"Sir; you know – "

"I know many things about M. de Saint-Remy."

"Alas, sir, this is a terrible thing!"

"I know many terrible things about M. de Saint-Remy."

"Oh, sir, he was right when he told me that you were pitiless."

"For swindlers and forgers like him, – yes, I am pitiless. So this Saint-Remy is a relative of yours? Instead of owning it, you ought to blush at it. Do you mean to try and soften me with your tears? It is useless, – not to add that you have undertaken a very disgraceful task for a respectable female."

At this coarse insolence the pride and patrician blood of the duchess revolted. She drew herself up, threw back her veil; and then, with a lofty air, imperious glance, and firm voice, said:

"I am the Duchess de Lucenay, sir!"

The lady then assumed the lofty look of her station; and her appearance was so imposing that the notary, controlled, fascinated, receded a pace, quite overcome, took off mechanically the black silk cap that covered his cranium, and made a low bow.

In truth, nothing could be more charming and aristocratic than the face and figure of Madame de Lucenay, although she was turned thirty, and her features were pale and somewhat agitated. But then she had full, brown eyes, sparkling and bold; splendid black hair; a nose thin and arched; a lip red and disdainful; a dazzling complexion; teeth of ivory; and a form tall and slender, graceful, and full of distinction, – the carriage of a goddess in the clouds, as the immortal Saint-Simon says. With her hair powdered, and a costume of the eighteenth century, Madame de Lucenay would have represented, physically and morally, one of those gay and careless duchesses of the Regency who carried on their flirtations (or worse) with so much audacity, giddiness, and real kindness of heart, who confessed their peccadilloes from time to time with so much candour and naïveté, that the most punctilious said, with a smile, "She is, doubtless, light and culpable; but she is so kind – so delightful; loves with so much intensity, passion, and fidelity, – as long as she does love, – that we cannot really be angry with her. After all, she only injures herself, and makes so many others happy!" Except the powder and the large skirts to her dress, such also was Madame de Lucenay, when not depressed by sombre thoughts. She entered the office of M. Jacques Ferrand like a plain tradesman's wife; in the instant she came forth as a great, proud, and irritated lady. Jacques Ferrand had never in his life seen a woman of such striking beauty, – so haughty and bold, and so noble in her demeanour. The look of the duchess, her glorious eyes, encircled with an imperceptible bow of azure, her rosy nostrils, much dilated, betokened her ardent nature.

Although old, ugly, ignoble, and sordid, Jacques Ferrand was as capable as any one of appreciating the style of beauty of Madame de Lucenay. The hatred and rage which the notary felt against M. de Saint-Remy was increased by the admiration which his proud and lovely mistress inspired in him. Devoured by all his repressed passions, he said to himself, in an agony of rage, that this gentleman forger, whom he had compelled almost to fall at his feet when he threatened him with the assizes, could inspire such love in such a woman that she actually risked the present step in his behalf, which might prove fatal to her reputation. As he thus thought, the notary felt his boldness, which had been for a moment paralysed, restored to him. Hatred, envy, a kind of savage and burning resentment, lighted up his eyes, his forehead, and his cheeks. Seeing Madame de Lucenay on the point of commencing so delicate a conversation, he expected from her caution and management. What was his astonishment! She spoke with as much assurance and haughtiness as if she were discoursing about the simplest thing in the world; and as if, before a man of his sort, she had no care for reserve or those concealments which she would assuredly have maintained with her equals. In fact, the coarse brutality of the notary wounded her to the quick, and had led Madame de Lucenay to quit the humble and supplicating part she was acting with much difficulty to herself. Returned to herself, she thought it beneath her to descend to the least concealment with a mere scribbler of acts and deeds. High-spirited, charitable, generous, overflowing with kindness, warm-heartedness, and energy, in spite of her faults, – but the daughter of a mother of no principle, and who had even disgraced the noble and respectable, though fallen position of an émigrée, – Madame de Lucenay, in her inborn contempt for certain classes, would have said with the Roman empress who took her bath in the presence of a male slave, "He is not a man!"

"Monsieur Notary," said the duchess, with a determined air, to Jacques Ferrand, "M. de Saint-Remy is one of my friends, and has confided to me the embarrassment under which he is at this moment suffering, from a twofold treachery of which he is the victim. All is arranged as to the money. How much is required to terminate these miserable annoyances?"

Jacques Ferrand was actually aghast at this cavalier and deliberate manner of entering on this affair.

"One hundred thousand francs are required," he repeated, after having in some degree surmounted his surprise.

"You shall have your one hundred thousand francs; so send, at once, these annoying papers to M. de Saint-Remy."

"Where are the one hundred thousand francs, Madame la Duchesse?"

"Have I not said you should have them, sir?"

"I must have them to-morrow, and before noon, madame; or else proceedings will be instantly commenced for the forgery."

"Well, do you pay this sum, which I will repay to you."

"But madame, it is impossible."

"But, sir, you will not tell me, I imagine, that a notary, like you, cannot find one hundred thousand francs by to-morrow morning?"

"On what securities, madame?"

"What do you mean? Explain!"

"Who will be answerable to me for this sum?"

"I will."

"Still, madame – "