Mysteries of Paris Volume II Part 26

"I will write."

"Adieu, my worthy and good counselor."

"Ah! you people of the world do not know how disagreeable it is to take charge of such deposits--the responsibility which bears on us. I tell you there is nothing more detestable than this fine reputation for probity which brings one nothing but drudgery."

"And the admiration of good people."

"Praise the Lord! I place otherwise than here below the recompense I seek for," said Ferrand, in a sanctified tone.

To Madame d'Orbigny succeeded Countess Sarah M'Gregor.

Sarah entered the cabinet of the notary with her habitual coolness and a.s.surance. Jacques Ferrand did not know her; he was ignorant of the object of her visit. He observed her very closely, in the hope to make a new dupe; and, notwithstanding the impa.s.sibility of the marble face, he remarked a slight tremor, which appeared to him to betray concealed embarra.s.sment.

The notary arose from his chair, and handed a seat to the countess, saying, "You asked for a meeting, madame, yesterday. I was so much occupied that I could not send you an answer until this morning; I make you a thousand excuses."

"I desired to see you, sir, on business of the greatest importance.

Your reputation has made me hope my business with you will be successful."

The notary bowed in his chair. "I know, sir, that your discretion is well tried."

"It is my duty, madame."

"You are, sir, a rigid and incorruptible man."

"Granted, madame."

"Yet, if one should say to you, sir, it depends on you to restore life--more than life--reason to an unhappy mother, would you have the courage to refuse?"

"State facts, madame, I will answer."

"About fourteen years since, in December, 1824, a young man, dressed in mourning, came to propose to you to take, for an annuity, the sum of one hundred and fifty thousand francs, for a child of three years, whose parents desired to remain unknown."

"Continue, madame," said the notary, avoiding a direct answer.

"You consented to receive this amount, and to a.s.sure the child an income of eight thousand francs. The one-half of this amount was to be added to the capital until its majority; the other half was to be paid by you to the person who should take charge of this little girl."

"Continue, madame."

"At the end of two years," said Sarah, without being able to conquer a slight emotion, "the 28th November, 1827, this child died."

"Before continuing this conversation, madame, I shall ask you what interest you have in this affair?"

"The mother of this little girl is my _sister_, sir; I have here, for proof of what I advance, the publication of the death of this poor little thing, the letters from the person who had care of her, the receipt of one of your clients, with whom you placed the fifty thousand crowns."

"Let me see these papers, madame."

Quite astonished not to be believed at her word, Sarah drew from a portfolio several papers, which the notary closely examined.

"Ah, well, madame, what do you want? The notice of the death is quite correct; the fifty thousand crowns became the property of M. Pet.i.t Jean, my client, by the death of the child; as to the interests, they were always punctually paid by me until its decease."

"Nothing can be more correct than your conduct in this affair; sir, I am pleased to acknowledge it. The woman to whom the child was confided has also a right to our grat.i.tude; she has taken the greatest care of my poor little niece."

"That is true, madame; I was so much pleased with her conduct, that, after the death of the child, I took her in my service; she is still there."

"Mrs. Seraphin is in your service, sir?"

"For fourteen years, as housekeeper."

"Since it is thus, sir, she can be of great a.s.sistance, if you will grant a demand which will appear strange, perhaps, even culpable at first; but, when you shall know with what intention--"

"A culpable demand, madame; I do not think you are any more capable of making than I am of hearing it."

"I know, sir, that you are the last person to whom one should address such a request; but I place all my hopes--my sole hope--in your pity.

In every case I rely on your discretion."

"Yes, madame."

"I continue, then. The death of this poor little girl has cast her mother into such a state, her grief is as poignant at the present day as it was fourteen years since; and, after having feared for her life, to-day we fear for her reason."

"Poor mother!" said Ferrand, with a sigh.

"Oh! yes, very unfortunate mother, sir; for she could only blush at the birth of her daughter, at the time she lost her; while now circ.u.mstances are such, that my sister, if her child still lived, could own her, be proud of her, never leave her. Thus, this incessant regret, joined to other griefs, makes us fear for her reason."

"Unfortunately, nothing can be done for her."

"Oh, yes."

"How, madame?"

"Suppose some one should come and say to the poor mother. 'Your child was supposed to be dead; she is not; the woman who had care of her infancy can affirm it.'"

"Such a falsehood would be cruel, madame. Why cause vain hopes to this poor mother?"

"But if this was not a falsehood, sir; or, rather, if this supposition could be realized?"

"By a miracle! If it only needed, to obtain it, my prayers joined to yours, I would pray from the bottom of my heart. Alas! there can be no doubt of her death."

"I know it, alas! sir, the child is dead: and yet, if you wish it, the evil is not irreparable."

"It is an enigma, madame."

"I will speak, then, more plainly. If my sister finds to-morrow her child, not only will she be restored to health, but, what is more, she is sure to marry the father of this child, now as free as she is. My niece died at six years. Separated from her parents at this tender age, they have no recollection of her. Suppose that a young girl of seventeen could be found; that my sister should be told, 'Here is your child; you have been deceived; certain interests required that she should be thought dead. The woman who had charge of her, a respectable notary will affirm, will prove to you that it is she--'"

Jacques Ferrand, after having allowed the countess to speak without interrupting her, rose suddenly, and cried, in an indigant manner, "Enough, enough, madame. Oh! this is infamous."

"Sir!"

"To dare to propose to me--to me--to palm off a child--a criminal action! It is the first time in my life that I have received such an outrage, and I have not deserved it--heaven knows."