Like all energetic natures, Daniel felt a wonderful relief as soon as he had formed an irrevocable decision. He would even have enjoyed the peace that had once more returned to his mind, but for the savage1 hatred2 which had accumulated in his heart, and which confused his thoughts whenever he remembered Miss Brandon.
Providentially, it seemed to him, Maxime had not gone out, or, rather, having been to breakfast at the English cafe with some of his friends, he had just returned.
In ten words Daniel had told him every thing, and even shown him that masterpiece of forgery3, which he attributed to Miss Brandon’s mind, and M. Elgin’s skill. Then, without heeding4 Maxime’s exclamations5 of wonder and indignation, loud and deep as they were, he continued,—
“Now, my dear Maxime, listen to me. It may be my last will which I am going to give in your charge.”
And, when his friend tried to remonstrate6, he insisted,—
“I know what I am saying. I am sure I hope I shall not be buried out there; but the climate is murderous, and I may encounter a cannon-ball. It is always better to be prepared.”
He paused a moment to collect his thoughts; and then he went on.
“You alone, in this world, Maxime, know all my private affairs. I have no secret from you. I have friends whom I have known longer than you; but I have none in whom I feel more confidence. Besides, my old friends are all sailors,—men, who, like myself, may at any moment be sent, Heaven knows where. Now I want a reliable, safe, and experienced man, possessed7 of prudence8 and energy, and sure not to leave Paris. Will you be that man, Maxime?”
M. de Brevan, who had remained in his chair, rose, and, putting his hand on his heart, said,—
“Between us, Daniel, oaths are useless; don’t you think so? I say, therefore, simply, you may count upon me.”
“And I do count upon you,” exclaimed Daniel,—“yes, blindly and absolutely; and I am going to give you a striking proof of it.”
For a few moments it looked as if he were trying to find some brief and yet impressive form for his communication; and then he said, speaking very rapidly,—
“If I leave in despair, it is because I leave Henrietta in the hands of the enemy. What persecution9 she will have to endure! My heart bleeds at the mere10 thought. Miss Brandon must be meditating11 some terrible blow, or she would not have been so anxious to keep me at a distance.”
He sobbed12 almost, so great was his excitement; but he instantly became master again of his emotion, and continued,—
“Well, Maxime, I shall ask you to watch over Henrietta. I intrust her to you as I would intrust her to my brother, if I had one.”
M. de Brevan was about to state some objections; but Daniel cut him short, saying,—
“I will tell you how and in what manner you can watch over Miss Ville-Handry. To-morrow evening I shall see her, and tell her the new misfortune which has befallen us. I shall take leave of her then. I know she will be terrified; but then, to reassure13 her, I shall explain to her that I leave her a friend, another myself, ready, like myself, to assist her at her first summons, and ready, like myself, to run any danger in order to succor14 her. I shall tell her to appeal to you as if it were to myself; to write to you as she used to write to me; to keep you informed of all they may attempt to do; to consult and to obey you without hesitation15.
“As to what you will have to do, Maxime, I cannot tell you that, even in a general way, as I know nothing of Miss Brandon’s plans. I rely upon your experience to do what is most expedient16. Still there are two alternatives which I can foresee. It may be that her father’s house becomes impossible for Henrietta, and that she should wish to leave it. It may also be, that, under certain circumstances, you may think it inexpedient for her to remain there, and that you have to advise her to escape. In either case, you will take Henrietta to an old lady, a relative of mine, who lives at the Rosiers, a little village in the department of Maine-et-Loire, and whose address I will give you, while I will inform her beforehand of what may happen.”
He paused, trying to remember if there was any thing else, and, recalling nothing, he said,—
“This, my dear Maxime, is all I expect you to do for me.”
With open brow, a clear eye, and grave face, M. de Brevan replied in a solemn tone of voice, speaking like a man who feels that he deserves such confidence,—
“Friend Daniel, you may sail without fear.”
But Daniel had not done yet.
Pressing his friend’s hand heartily17, he thanked him, and then with a careless air, under which he very imperfectly concealed20 his real embarrassment21, he said,—
“There remains22 only to provide the means for carrying out these measures, and for possible contingencies23. You are not rich, my dear Maxime, I mean rich in comparison with the people who are your friends; you have told me so more than once.”
He touched a wound which was always open, and always bleeding.
“Certainly,” replied M. de Brevan, “in comparison with a number of my friends, with men like Gordon Chalusse, for instance, I am only a poor devil.”
Daniel did not notice the bitterness of this reply.
“Now,” he said, “suppose, at a given moment, Miss Henrietta’s safety should make a certain sum of money necessary,—perhaps a very large sum,—are you sure you will always have enough in your drawer, and be able to dispose of it without inconvenience?”
“Ah! you expect too much of me; but I have friends.”
“And you would ask them! you would expose yourself to the humiliation24 of hearing those set excuses which serve to conceal19 refusals! I could never permit that.”
“I assure you”—
“Let me tell you that I have forgotten nothing. Although my means are modest, I can, by selling out some bonds, realize enough to secure you against any embarrassment on that score. I also own property in Anjou which is valued at fifty or sixty thousand dollars, and I mean to sell it.”
The other man opened his eyes wide.
“You mean,” he said slowly.
“To sell it, yes. You heard right. Except, however, my home, my father’s house, with the little garden in front, the orchard25, and the meadow adjoining the house. In that house my father and my mother have lived and died. I find them there, so to say, whenever I go in; their thoughts are still filling the rooms, after so many years. The garden and the orchard are the first little bits of land my father bought from his earnings26 as ploughboy. He cultivated them in his leisure hours, and there is literally27 not a foot of soil which he has not moistened with the sweat of his brow. They are sacred to me; but the rest—I have already given orders.”
“And you expect to sell every thing in the three days before your departure?”
“Oh, no! But you are here.”
“What can I do?”
“Take my place, I should think. I will leave you a power-of-attorney. Perhaps, if you make haste, you can get fifty thousand dollars for the property. You will invest that so as to be able to use it any moment. And, if ever Miss Henrietta should be compelled to leave her father’s house, you will hand the money over to her.”
M. de Brevan had turned very pale.
“Excuse me,” he said, “excuse me.”
“What?”
“Well, it seems to me it would be more suitable to leave some one else in charge of that.”
“Whom?”
“Oh! I do not know,—a more experienced man! It may be that the property will not bring as much as you expect. Or I might invest the money in the wrong funds. Money questions are so delicate!”
But Daniel said, shrugging his shoulders,—
“I do not understand why you should hesitate to undertake so simple a thing, when you have already consented to render me so signal and so difficult a service.”
So simple! M. de Brevan did not look upon it in that light.
A nervous shiver, which he could hardly conceal, ran down his backbone28; drops of perspiration29 broke out on his temples; and he turned deadly pale.
“Fifty thousand dollars! That is an enormous sum.”
“Oh, yes!” replied Daniel in the most careless manner.
And, looking at the clock, he added,—
“Half-past three. Come, Maxime, be quick. My carriage is waiting. The notary30 expects us between three and four o’clock.”
This notary was an exceptional man. He took an interest in the affairs of his clients, and sometimes even listened to hear their explanations. When Daniel had told him what he intended doing, he replied,—
“You have nothing to do, M. Champcey, but to give M. de Brevan a power-of-attorney in proper form.”
“Would it be possible,” asked Daniel, “to have it drawn31 up at once?”
“Why not? It can be recorded this evening; and to-morrow”—
“Well, then, lose no time.”
The notary called his chief clerk, gave him briefly32 his instructions, then, making a sign to Daniel, he drew him into a kind of recess33 resembling an enormous cupboard, adjoining his office, in which he “confessed” his clients, as he called it. When they were there, he said,—
“How is it, M. Champcey, do you really owe this M. de Brevan so much money?”
“Not a cent.”
“And you leave your entire fortune thus in his hands! You must have marvellous confidence in the man.”
“As much as in myself.”
“That is a good deal. And if he should, during your absence, run away with the fifty thousand dollars?”
Daniel was a little shaken; but he remained firm.
“Oh!” he said, “there are still some honest people in the world.”
“Ah?” laughed the notary.
And, from the manner in which he shook his head, it was clearly seen that experience had made him very sceptical on that subject.
“If you would only listen to me,” he resumed, “I could prove to you”—
But Daniel interrupted him, and said,—
“I have no desire, sir, to change my mind; but, even if I should wish to do so, I cannot retract34 my word. There are particular circumstances in this case which I cannot explain to you in so short a time.”
The notary raised his eyes to the ceiling, and said in a tone of great pity,—
“At least, let me make him give you a deed of defeasance.”
“Very well, sir.”
This was done, but in such carefully guarded terms, that even the most exquisite35 susceptibility on the part of Maxime could not have been hurt. It was five o’clock, when the power-of-attorney and the deed were signed, and the two friends left the worthy36 notary’s office. It was too late now for Daniel to write to Henrietta to send him for that same evening the key to the little garden-gate; but he wrote to get it for the next evening.
After that, having dined with M. de Brevan, he went all over Paris in search of the thousand little things which are necessary for such a long and perilous37 voyage. He came home late, and was fortunate enough to fall asleep as soon as he had lain down. The next morning he breakfasted in his rooms, for fear of being out of the house when they should bring him the key.
It came towards one o’clock. It was brought by a large girl, nearly thirty years old, with a cross expression of face, and eyes more than modestly seeking the ground, and with narrow lips which seemed to be perpetually engaged in reciting prayers. This was Clarissa, whom Henrietta considered the safest of her waiting-women, and whom she had taken into her confidence.
“Miss Henrietta,” she said to Daniel, “has given me this key and this letter for you, sir. She expects an answer.”
Daniel tore the envelope, and read,—
“Take care, O my darling friend! to resort to this dangerous expedient which we ought to reserve for the last extremity38. Is what you have to tell me really so important as you say? I can hardly believe it; and yet I send you the key. Tell Clarissa the precise hour at which you will be here.”
Alas39! the poor girl had no idea of the terrible news that was in store for her.
“Request Miss Henrietta,” said Daniel to the maid, “to expect me at seven o’clock.”
Sure now of seeing Henrietta, Daniel slipped the key in his pocket, and hurried away. He had only a short afternoon to himself, and there were still a thousand things to get, and countless40 preparations to make.
At his notary’s, where he went first, he found the papers ready; all the formalities had been fulfilled. But, at the moment when the deed was placed before him, the worthy lawyer said in a prophetic voice,—
“M. Champcey, take care, reflect! I call that tempting41 a man pretty strongly when you hand over to him fifty thousand dollars the day before you start on a long and dangerous expedition.”
“Ah! What matters my fortune, if I only see my Henrietta again?”
The notary looked discouraged.
“Ah! if there is a woman in the affair, I have nothing more to say.”
It was as well. The next moment Daniel had forgotten him and his sombre presentiments42.
Seated in M. de Brevan’s little sitting-room43, he was handing over his deeds and papers to his faithful confidant, explaining to him how he might make the most of the different parcels of land which he owned; how certain woods might be sold together; how, on the other hand, a large farm, now held by one tenant44, might be advantageously divided into small lots, and sold at auction45.
M. de Brevan did not look so pale now. He had recovered his self- possession, and laid aside his usual reserve in order to show himself all eagerness for his friend.
He declared that he would see to it that his friend Daniel should not be robbed. He intended, therefore, to go himself to Anjou to call upon those who were likely to purchase, and to be present at the sale. In his opinion, it would be wiser to sell piecemeal46, without hurry. If money was needed, why, one could always get it at the bank.
Daniel was deeply touched by the devotion of his friend, whose intense selfishness he had noticed but too often. Nor was this all. Capable of the greatest sacrifices where Daniel’s interests were at stake, M. de Brevan had formed a grand resolution. He proposed to overcome his aversion to Miss Brandon, and to seek, immediately after her m............