Daniel rushed in feverish2 haste, like an escaped convict, headlong on, without aim or purpose, solely3 bent4 upon escaping. But, when he had gone some distance, the motion, the cold night-air, and the keen wind playing in his hair, restored him to consciousness. Then he became aware that he was still in evening costume, bareheaded, and that he had left his hat and his overcoat in Miss Brandon’s house. Then he remembered that Count Ville-Handry was waiting for him in the great reception-room, together with M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. What would they say and think? Unhappy man, in what a sad predicament he found himself!
There might have been a way to escape from that hell; and he himself, in his madness, had closed it forever.
Like one of those dissipated men who awake from the heavy sleep after a debauch5, with dry mouth and weary head, he felt as if he had just been aroused from a singular and terrible dream. Like the drunkard, who, when he is sobered, tries to recall the foolish things he may have done under the guidance of King Alcohol, Daniel conjured6 up one by one all his emotions during the hour which he had just spent by Miss Brandon’s side,—an hour of madness which would weigh heavily upon his future fate, and which alone contained in its sixty minutes more experiences than his whole life so far.
At no time had he been so near despair.
What! He had been warned, put on his guard, made fully7 aware of all of Miss Brandon’s tricks; they had told him of the weird8 charm of her eyes; he himself had caught her that very evening in the open act of deceiving others.
And in spite of all this, feeble and helpless as he was, he had let himself be caught by the fascinations9 of this strange girl. Her voice had made him forget every thing, every thing—even his dear and beloved Henrietta, his sole thought for so many years.
“Fool!” he said to himself, “what have I done?”
Unmindful of the blast of the tempest, and of the snow which had begun to fall, he had sat down on the steps of one of the grandest houses in Circus Street, and, with his elbows on his knees, he pressed his brow with his hands, as if hoping that he might thus cause it to suggest to him some plan of salvation10. Conjuring11 up the whole energy of his will, he tried to retrace12 his interview with Miss Brandon in order to find out by what marvellous transformation13 it had begun as a terrible combat, and ended as a love-scene. And recalling thus to his memory all she had told him in her soft, sweet voice, he asked himself if she had not really been slandered14; and, if there was actually something amiss in her past life, why should it not rather be laid at the door of those two equivocal personages who watched over her, M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian.
What boldness this strange girl had displayed in her defence! but also what lofty nobility! How well she had said that she did not love Count Ville-Handry with real love, and that, until now, no man had even succeeded in quickening her pulse! Was she of marble, and susceptible15 only of delight in foolish vanity?
Oh, no! a thousand times no! The most refined coquetry never achieved that passionate16 violence; the most accomplished17 artist never possessed18 that marvellous contagion19 which is the sublime20 gift of truth alone. And, whatever he could do, his head and heart remained still filled with Miss Brandon; and Daniel trembled as he remembered certain words in which, under almost transparent21 illusions, the secret of her heart had betrayed itself. Could she have told Daniel more pointedly22 than she had actually done, “He whom I could love is none other but you”? Certainly not! And as he thought of it his heart was filled with a sense of eager and unwholesome desires; for he was a man, no better, no worse, than other men; and there are but too many men nowadays, who would value a few hours of happiness with a woman like Miss Brandon more highly than a whole life of chaste23 love by the side of a pure and noble woman.
“But what is that to me?” he repeated. “Can I love her, I?”
Then he began again to revolve24 in his mind what might have happened after his flight from the house.
How had Miss Brandon explained his escape? How had she accounted for her own excitement?
And, drawn25 by an invincible26 power, Daniel had risen to return to the house; and there, half-hid under the shadow of the opposite side, in a deep doorway27, he watched anxiously the windows, as if they could have told him any thing of what was going on inside. The reception-room was still brilliantly lighted, and people came and went, casting their shadows upon the white curtains. A man came and leaned his face against the window, then suddenly he drew back; and Daniel distinctly recognized Count Ville-Handry.
What did that mean? Did it not imply that Miss Brandon had been taken suddenly ill, and that people were anxious about her? These were Daniel’s thoughts when he heard the noise of bolts withdrawn28, and doors opened. It was the great entrance-gate of Miss Brandon’s house, which was thrown open by some of the servants. A low coupe with a single horse left the house, and drove rapidly towards the Champs Elysees.
But, at the moment when the coupe turned, the light of the lamp fell full upon the inside, and Daniel thought he recognized, nay29, he did recognize, Miss Brandon. He felt as if he had received a stunning30 blow on the head.
“She has deceived me!” he exclaimed, grinding his teeth in his rage; “she has treated me like an imbecile, like an idiot!”
Then, suddenly conceiving a strange plan, he added,—
“I must know where she is going at four o’clock in the morning. I will follow her.”
Unfortunately, Miss Brandon’s coachman had, no doubt, received special orders; for he drove down the avenue as fast as the horse could go, and the animal was a famous trotter, carefully chosen by Sir Thorn, who understood horse-flesh better than any one else in Paris. But Daniel was agile31; and the hope of being able to avenge32 himself at once gave him unheard-of strength.
“If I could only catch a cab!” he thought.
But no carriage was to be seen. His elbows close to the body, managing his breath, and steadily33 measuring his steps, he succeeded in not only following the coupe, but in actually gaining ground. When Miss Brandon reached Concord34 Square, he was only a few yards behind the carriage. But there the coachman touched the horse, which suddenly increased its pace, crossed the square, and trotted35 down Royal Street.
Daniel felt his breath giving out, and a shooting pain, first trifling36, but gradually increasing, in his side. He was on the point of giving up the pursuit, when he saw a cab coming down towards him from the Madeleine, the driver fast asleep on the box. He threw himself before the horses, and cried out as well as he could,—
“Driver, a hundred francs for you, if you follow that coupe down there!”
But the driver, suddenly aroused by a man who stood in the middle of the street, bareheaded, and in evening costume, and who offered him such an enormous sum, thought it was a practical joke attempted by a drunken man, and replied furiously,—
“Look out, rascal37! Get out of the way, or I drive over you!”
And therewith he whipped his horses; and Daniel would have been driven over, if he had not promptly38 jumped aside. But all this had taken time; and, when he looked up, the coupe was far off, nearly at the boulevard. To attempt overtaking it now would have been folly39 indeed; and Daniel remained there, overwhelmed and defeated.
What could he do? It occurred to him that he might hasten to Maxime, and ask him for advice. But fate was against him; he gave up that idea. He went slowly back to his lodgings40, and threw himself into an arm-chair, determined41 not to go to bed till he had found a way to extricate42 himself from the effects of his egregious43 folly.
But he had now been for two days agitated44 by the extremest alternatives, like a man out at sea, whom the waves buffet45, and throw—now up to the shore, and now back again into open water. He had not closed an eye for forty-eight hours; and, if the heart seems to be able to suffer almost indefinitely, our physical strength is strictly46 limited. Thus he fell asleep, dreaming even in his sleep that he was hard at work, and just about to discover the means by which he could penetrate47 the mystery of Miss Brandon.
It was bright day when Daniel awoke, chilled and stiffened48; for he had not changed his clothes when he came home, and his fire had gone out. His first impulse was one of wrath49 against himself. What! he succumbed50 so easily?—he, the sailor, who remembered very well having remained more than once for forty, and even once for sixty hours on deck, when his vessel51 was threatened by a hurricane? Had his peaceful and monotonous52 life in his office during the last two years weakened him to such a point, that all the springs of his system had lost their power?
Poor fellow! he knew not that the direst fatigue53 is trifling in comparison with that deep moral excitement which shakes the human system to its most mysterious depths. Nevertheless, while he hastened to kindle54 a large fire, in order to warm himself, he felt that the rest had done him good. The last evil effects of his excitement last night had passed away; the charm by which he had been fascinated was broken; and he felt once more master of all his faculties55.
Now his folly appeared to him so utterly56 inexplicable57, that, if he had but tasted a glass of lemonade at Miss Brandon’s house, he should have been inclined to believe that they had given him one of those drugs which set the brains on fire, and produce a kind of delirium58. But he had taken nothing, and, even if he had, was the foolish act less real for that? The consequences would be fatal, he had no doubt.
He was thus busy trying to analyze59 the future, when his servant entered, as he did every morning, bringing his hat and overcoat on his arm.
“Sir,” he said, with a smile which he tried to render malicious60, “you have forgotten these things at the house where you spent the evening yesterday. A servant—on horseback too—brought them. He handed me at the same time this letter, and is waiting for an answer.”
Daniel took the letter, and for a minute or more examined the direction. The handwriting was a woman’s, small and delicate, but in no ways like the long, angular hand of an American lady. At last he tore the envelope; and at once a penetrating61 but delicate perfume arose, which he had inhaled62, he knew but too well, in Miss Brandon’s rooms.
The letter was indeed from her, and on the top of the page bore her name, Sarah, in small blue Gothic letters. She wrote,—
“Is it really so, O Daniel! that you are entirely63 mine, and that I can count upon you? You told me so tonight. Do you still remember your promises?”
Daniel was petrified64. Miss Brandon had told him that she was imprudence personified; and here she gave him a positive proof of it.
Could not these few lines become a terrible weapon against her? Did they not admit the most extraordinary interpretation65? Still, as the bearer might be impatient, the servant asked,—
“What must I tell the man?”
“Ah, wait!” answered Daniel angrily.
And, sitting down at his bureau, he wrote to Miss Brandon,—
“Certainly, Miss Brandon, I remember the promises you extorted66 from me when I was not master of myself; I remember them but too well.”
Suddenly an idea struck him; and he paused. What! Having been caught already in the very first trap she had prepared for his inexperience, was he to risk falling into a second? He tore the letter he had commenced into small pieces, and, turning to his servant, said,—
“Tell the man that I am out; and make haste and get me a carriage!”
Then, when he was once more alone, he murmured,—
“Yes, it is better so. It is much better to leave Miss Brandon in uncertainty67. She cannot even suspect that her driving out this morning has enlightened me. She thinks I am still in the dark; let her believe it.”
Still this letter of hers seemed to prepare some new intrigue68, which troubled Daniel excessively. Miss Brandon was certain of achieving her end; what more did she want? What other mysterious aim could she have in view?
“Ah! I cannot make it out,” sighed Daniel. “I must consult Brevan.”
On his writing-table he found that important and urgent work which the minister had intrusted to his hands still unfinished. But the minister, the department, his position, his preferment,—all these considerations weighed as nothing in comparison with his passion.
He went down, therefore; and, while his carriage drove to his friend’s house, he thought of the surprise he would cause Maxime.
When he arrived there, he found M. de Brevan standing69 in his shirt- sleeves before an immense marble table, covered all over with pots and bottles, with brushes, combs, and sponges, with pincers, polishers, and files, making his toilet.
If he expected Daniel, he had not expected him so soon; for his features assumed an expression which seemed to prohibit all confidential70 talk. But Daniel saw nothing. He shook hands with his friend, and, sinking heavily into a chair, he said,—
“I went to Miss Brandon. She has made me promise all she wanted. I cannot imagine how it came about!”
“Let us hear,” said M. de Brevan.
Then, without hesitation71, and with all the minutest details, Daniel told him how Miss Brandon had taken him into her little boudoir, and how she had exculpated72 herself from all complicity with Malgat by showing him the letters written by that wretched man.
“Strange letters!” he said, “which, if they are authentic”—
M. de Brevan shrugged74 his shoulders.
“You were forewarned,” he said, “and you have promised all she wanted! Do you not think she might have made you sign your own death-sentence?”
“But Kergrist?” said Daniel. “Kergrist’s brother is her friend.”
“I dare say. But do you imagine that brother is any cleverer than you are?”
Although he was by no means fully satisfied, Daniel went on, describing his amazement75 when Miss Brandon told him that she did not love Count Ville-Handry.
But Maxime burst out laughing, and interrupted him, saying with bitter irony,—
“Of course! And then she went on, telling you that she had never yet loved anybody, having vainly looked in the world for the man of whom she dreamed. She painted to you the phoenix76 in such colors, that you had to say to yourself, ‘What does she mean? That phoenix! Why, she means me!’ That has tickled77 you prodigiously78. She has thrown herself at your feet; you have raised her up; she has fainted; she has sobbed79 like a distressed80 dove in your arms; you have lost your head.”
Daniel was overcome. He stammered81,—
“How did you know?”
Maxime could not look him in the face; but his voice was as steady as ever when he replied, in a tone of bitterest sarcasm,—
“I guess it. Did I not tell you I knew Miss Brandon? She has only one card in her hand; but that is enough; it always makes a trick.”
To have been deceived, and even to have been rendered ridiculous, is one of those misfortunes which we confess to ourselves, however painful the process may be; but to hear another person laugh at us after such a thing has happened is more than we can readily bear. Daniel, therefore, did not conceal83 his impatience84, and said rather dryly,—
“If I have been the dupe of Miss Brandon, my dear Maxime, you see, at last, that I am so no longer.”
“Ah, ah!”
“No, not in the least. And that, thanks to her; for she herself has destroyed my illusions.”
“Pshaw!”
“Unconsciously, of course, having ran away from her like a fool, I was wandering about in the streets near her house, when I saw her come out in her coupe.”
“Oh, come!”
“I saw her as distinctly as I see you. It was four o’clock in the morning, mind!”
“Is it possible? And what did you do?”
“I followed her.”
M. de Brevan nearly let the brush fall, with which he was polishing his finger-nails; but he mastered his confusion so promptly, that Daniel did not perceive it.
“Ah! you followed her,” he said in a voice which all his efforts could not steady entirely. “Then, of course, you know where she went.”
“Alas, no! She drove so fast, that, quick as I am, I could not follow her, and lost sight of her.”
Certainly M. de Brevan was breathing more freely, and said in an easy tone,—
“That is provoking, and you have lost a fine opportunity. I am, however, by no means astonished that you are at last enlightened.”
“Oh! I am so; you may believe me. And yet”—
“Well, yet?”
Daniel hesitated, for fear of seeing another sardonic85 smile appear on Maxime’s lips. Still making an effort, he replied,—
“Well, I am asking myself whether all that Miss Brandon states about her childhood, her family, and her fortune, might not, after all, be true.”
Maxime looked like a sensible man who is forced to listen to the absurd nonsense of an insane person.
“You think I am absurd,” said Daniel. “Perhaps I am; but, then, do me the favor to explain to me how Miss Brandon, anxious as she must be to conceal her past, could herself point out to me the means to ascertain86 every thing about her, and even to learn the precise amount of her income? America is not so far off!”
M. de Brevan’s face no longer expressed astonishment
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