Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins

Noting the girl's sudden start, and the surprised glance she was directing towards the door, M. Bouffard turned his head, and, seeing the hunchback, seemed quite as astonished as Herminie.

The marquis now advanced, and, bowing respectfully to Herminie, said:

"I beg a thousand pardons for thus intruding, mademoiselle, but I found the door open, and as I hope you will do me the honour to grant me a few moments' conversation on a very important matter, I ventured to enter."

After these words, which were uttered with as much courtesy as deference, the marquis turned to M. Bouffard and surveyed him from head to foot with such an expression of withering contempt that the ex-grocer became not only embarrassed, but thoroughly intimidated as well, in the presence of this hunchback, who said to him, coldly:

"I came, monsieur, to solicit the honour of a few minutes' conversation with this young lady."

"Oh – ah! Well, what is that to me?" grunted M. Bouffard, gradually regaining his assurance.

The marquis, without paying the slightest attention to M. Bouffard, and addressing Herminie, who was becoming more and more astonished, asked, deferentially:

"Will mademoiselle do me the favour to grant me the interview I ask?"

"But, monsieur," replied the girl, much embarrassed, "I do not know – I am not sure – "

"I must take the liberty of remarking that, as it is absolutely necessary that our conversation should be strictly confidential, it is indispensable that this – this gentleman should leave us, unless there may still be something you wish to say to him. In that case, I will retire."

"I have nothing further to say to monsieur," answered Herminie, pleased at the idea of escaping from her present painful position, even for a few moments.

"Mademoiselle has nothing more to say to you, monsieur," said the marquis to M. Bouffard, with a meaning gesture.

But the ex-grocer, who was now himself again, and who was consequently furious at the thought that he had allowed himself to be awed by the hunchback, exclaimed:

"So you fancy a man can be turned out of his own house without paying him his just dues, monsieur, and all because you support this – "

"Enough, monsieur, enough!" cried the marquis, hastily interrupting Bouffard.

And even as he spoke, he seized the offender by the arm with such violence that the ex-grocer, feeling the long, bony fingers of the hunchback hold him as in a vise, gazed at him with mingled fear and astonishment.

But the marquis, still smiling in the most amiable manner, continued with marvellous affability:

"I regret that I am unable to enjoy your delightful society any longer, my dear sir, but you see I am at mademoiselle's orders, and as she is good enough to grant me a few minutes, I must not abuse her kindness."

As he spoke, the marquis half led, half dragged M. Bouffard to the door, and that worthy, astonished to encounter such physical vigour and such an authoritative manner in a hunchback, offered no further resistance.

"I will go, as I have some other matters to attend to in the house," he exclaimed, making the best of the situation. "I am going up-stairs for awhile, but I shall return after you leave. I intend to have my money then, if I don't – "

The marquis bowed ironically, closed the door in the ex-grocer's face, and then returned to Herminie.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A SACRED MISSION

M. de Maillefort, much impressed by what Madame de la Rochaiguë had told him about the young musician who had been so unjustly treated, as she averred, by Madame de Beaumesnil, had again questioned Madame Dupont, a confidential attendant of the deceased countess.

This examination, which the marquis had conducted with great prudence and skill, revealed many new details concerning the relations which had existed between the countess and that young girl, and though Madame Dupont seemed to have no suspicion of the truth, M. de Maillefort felt almost certain that Herminie must be Madame de Beaumesnil's illegitimate child.

In spite of this firm conviction on his part, the marquis resolved to approach Herminie with the greatest reserve, not only because any revelation of his suspicions would dishonour Madame de Beaumesnil's memory, but, also, because the countess had never revealed her secret to M. de Maillefort, who had mistrusted rather than discovered it.

Herminie, utterly unable to imagine the object of this stranger's visit, was standing by the mantel, pale and agitated when the marquis returned to her side after M. Bouffard's summary expulsion.

A single quick glance around the abode of the duchess had satisfied the marquis of the perfect order, refined taste, and exquisite neatness of the girl's home, and this, together with what Madame de la Rochaiguë had told him of her noble disinterestedness, gave him a very high opinion of Herminie, and, almost sure that he saw in her the person he was so anxious to find, he studied her charming features in the hope of discovering a resemblance to Madame de Beaumesnil, and fancied that he had succeeded.

Though she did not exactly resemble her mother, Herminie, like Madame de Beaumesnil, was a blonde. Like her, she had blue eyes, and though the contour of the two faces was not alike, there was certainly a family likeness that could not fail to strike a close observer like M. de Maillefort; so it was with an emotion that he found it difficult to conceal that he approached Herminie, who was becoming more and more embarrassed by the long silence, and by the searching though almost affectionate gaze of her strange visitor.

"Mademoiselle," he said, at last, in an almost fatherly tone, "I must beg you to excuse my delay, but I experience a sort of embarrassment in expressing the great interest I feel in you."

M. de Maillefort's voice, as he uttered these words, was so full of feeling that the young girl looked at him wonderingly, then, more and more surprised, she ventured, timidly:

"But this interest, monsieur – "

"You cannot imagine what has aroused it. Very well, I will tell you, my dear child, – for let me call you that," the hunchback continued, as if in answer to a hasty movement on the part of Herminie; "my age and the interest I feel in you certainly give me a right to call you my dear child, if you will permit such a familiarity."

"It might serve to prove my gratitude for the kind and consoling words you have just uttered, monsieur, though the humiliating position in which you just saw me placed – "

"Oh, do not trouble yourself in the least about that," interrupted the marquis, "I – "

"I am not trying to justify myself," said Herminie, proudly, interrupting the marquis in her turn. "I have nothing to blush for, and though, for some inexplicable reason, you are kind enough to evince an interest in me, it is only my duty to tell you, or to try to prove to you, that it was neither mismanagement, extravagance, nor idleness that placed me in such a humiliating position for the first time in my life. Ill for nearly two months past, I have been unable to give lessons as usual. I resumed them only a few days ago, so I have been obliged to spend the small amount of money I had saved. This is the truth, monsieur. If I am a little in debt, it is only in consequence of my illness."

"Strange," thought the marquis, mentally comparing the date of the countess's death with that of the beginning of Herminie's illness, "it was about the time of Madame de Beaumesnil's death that this poor child must have been taken ill. Can grief have been the cause?"

And in tones of touching sympathy, the marquis asked aloud:

"And was this attack of illness severe, my dear child? You were overworked, perhaps."

Herminie blushed deeply. Her embarrassment was great, for she felt that it would be necessary to utter an untruth to conceal the real cause of her illness, and it was with considerable hesitation that she finally replied:

"I think I must have been overfatigued, monsieur, for the attack was followed by a sort of mental prostration, but now, thank Heaven, I am well again."

The girl's embarrassment and hesitation did not escape the marquis, who had already noted the expression of profound melancholy on Herminie's features.

"There isn't the slightest doubt of it," he mentally exclaimed. "She became ill with grief after Madame de Beaumesnil's death. She knows, then, that the countess was her mother. But in that case, why didn't the countess, in the frequent opportunities she must have had to be alone with her daughter, give her this money she entrusted to me?"

A prey to these perplexities, the hunchback, after another silence, said to Herminie:

"My dear child, I came here with the intention of maintaining the utmost reserve. Distrusting my own judgment, and greatly in doubt as to the course I ought to pursue, I had resolved to approach the subject that brought me here with infinite caution, for it is a delicate, yes, a sacred mission, that I have to fulfil."

"What do you mean, monsieur?"

"Will you be kind enough to listen to me, my dear child. What I have heard about you, and what I have just seen, or rather divined, perhaps, – in short, the confidence you inspire, – had changed this determination on my part, and I am going to talk to you freely and frankly, sure that I am speaking to an honest, true-hearted woman. You know Madame de Beaumesnil, – you loved her – "

Herminie could not repress a movement of astonishment, mingled with anxiety.

"Yes, I know," continued the hunchback. "You loved Madame de Beaumesnil devotedly. Your grief at her death was the sole cause of your illness."

"Monsieur," cried Herminie, terrified to see her secret, or rather that of her mother, almost at the mercy of a stranger, "I do not know what you mean. I conceived for Madame de Beaumesnil, during the brief time we were together, the respectful affection she deserved. Like all who knew her, I deeply deplored her death, but – "