2The establishment of the influential friend of Daddy Tantaine wassituated in the Rue Montorgeuil, not far from the Passage de la ReineHortense. M. B. Mascarin has a registry office for the engagement ofboth male and female servants. Two boards fastened upon each side ofthe door announce the hours of opening and closing, and give a list ofthose whose names are on the books; they further inform the publicthat the establishment was founded in 1844, and is still in the samehands. It was the long existence of M. Mascarin in a business which isusually very short-lived that had obtained for him a great amount ofconfidence, not only in the quarter in which he resided, butthroughout the whole of Paris. Employers say that he sends them thebest of servants, and the domestics in their turn assert that he onlydespatches them to good places. But M. Mascarin has still furtherclaims on the public esteem; for it was he who, in 1845, founded andcarried out a project which had for its aim and end the securing of ashelter for servants out of place. The better to carry out this,Mascarin took a partner, and gave him the charge of a furnished houseclose to the office. Worthy as these projects were, Mascarin contrivedto draw considerable profit from them, and was the owner of the housebefore which, in the noon of the day following the events we havedescribed, Paul Violaine might have been seen standing. The fivehundred francs of old Tantaine, or at any rate a portion of them, hadbeen well spent, and his clothes did credit to his own taste and theskill of his tailor. Indeed, in his fine feathers he looked sohandsome, that many women turned to gaze after him. He however tookbut little notice of this, for he was too full of anxiety, havinggrave doubts as to the power of the man whom Tantaine had assertedcould, if he liked, make his fortune. "A registry office!" muttered hescornfully. "Is he going to propose a berth of a hundred francs amonth to me?" He was much agitated at the thoughts of the impendinginterview, and, before entering the house, gazed upon its exteriorwith great interest. The house much resembled its neighbors. Theentrances to the Registry Office and the Servants' Home were in thecourtyard, at the arched entrance to which stood a vendor of roastchestnuts.

"There is no use in remaining here," said Paul. Summoning, therefore,all his resolution, he crossed the courtyard, and, ascending a flightof stairs, paused before a door upon which "OFFICE" was written. "Comein!" responded at once to his knock. He pushed open the door, andentered a room, which closely resembled all other similar offices.

There were seats all round the room, polished by frequent use. At theend was a sort of compartment shut in by a green baize curtain,jestingly termed "the Confessional" by the frequenters of the office.

Between the windows was a tin plate, with the words, "All fees to bepaid in advance," in large letters upon it. In one corner a gentlemanwas seated at a writing table, who, as he made entries in a ledger,was talking to a woman who stood beside him.

"M. Mascarin?" asked Paul hesitatingly.

"What do you want with him?" asked the man, without looking up fromhis work. "Do you wish to enter your name? We have now vacancies forthree bookkeepers, a cashier, a confidential clerk--six other goodsituations. Can you give good references?"These words seemed to be uttered by rote.

"I beg your pardon," returned Paul; "but I should like to see M.

Mascarin. One of his friends sent me here."This statement evidently impressed the official, and he replied almostpolitely, "M. Mascarin is much occupied at present, sir; but he willsoon be disengaged. Pray be seated."Paul sat down on a bench, and examined the man who had just spokenwith some curiosity. M. Mascarin's partner was a tall and athleticman, evidently enjoying the best of health, and wearing a largemoustache elaborately waxed and pointed. His whole appearancebetokened the old soldier. He had, so he asserted, served in thecavalry, and it was there that he had acquired the /soubriquet/ bywhich he was known--Beaumarchef, his original name being David. He wasabout forty-five, but was still considered a very good-looking fellow.

The entries that he was making in the ledger did not prevent him fromkeeping up a conversation with the woman standing by him. The woman,who seemed to be a cross between a cook and a market-woman, might bedescribed as a thoroughly jovial soul. She seasoned her conversationwith pinches of snuff, and spoke with a strong Alsatian brogue.

"Now, look here," said Beaumarchef; "do you really mean to say thatyou want a place?""I do that.""You said that six months ago. We got you a splendid one, and threedays afterward you chucked up the whole concern.""And why shouldn't I? There was no need to work then; but now it isanother pair of shoes, for I have spent nearly all I had saved."Beaumarchef laid down his pen, and eyed her curiously for a second ortwo; then he said,--"You've been making a fool of yourself somehow, I expect."She half turned away her head, and began to complain of the hardnessof the terms and of the meanness of the mistresses, who, instead ofallowing their cooks to do the marketing, did it themselves, and socheated their servants out of their commissions.

Beaumarchef nodded, just as he had done half an hour before to a ladywho had complained bitterly of the misconduct of her servants. He wascompelled by his position to sympathize with both sides.

The woman had now finished her tirade, and drawing the amount of thefee from a well-filled purse, placed it on the table, saying,--"Please, M. Beaumarchef, register my name as Caroline Scheumal, andget me a real good place. It must be a cook, you understand, and Iwant to do the marketing without the missus dodging around.""Well, I'll do my best.""Try and find me a wealthy widower, or a young woman married to a veryold fellow. Now, do look round; I'll drop in again to-morrow;" andwith a farewell pinch of snuff, she left the office.

Paul listened to this conversation with feelings of anger andhumiliation, and in his heart cursed old Tantaine for havingintroduced him into such company. He was seeking for some plausibleexcuse for withdrawal, when the door at the end of the room was thrownopen, and two men came in, talking as they did so. The one was youngand well dressed, with an easy, swaggering manner, which ignorantpeople mistake for good breeding. He had a many-colored rosette at hisbuttonhole, showing that he was the knight of more than one foreignorder. The other was an elderly man, with an unmistakable legal airabout him. He was dressed in a quilted dressing-gown, fur-lined shoes,and had on his head an embroidered cap, most likely the work of thehands of some one dear to him. He wore a white cravat, and his sightcompelled him to use colored glasses.

"Then, my dear sir," said the younger man, "I may venture to entertainhopes?""Remember, Marquis," returned the other, "that if I were acting alone,what you require would be at once at your disposal. Unfortunately, Ihave others to consult.""I place myself entirely in your hands," replied the Marquis.

The appearance of the fashionably dressed young man reconciled Paul tothe place in which he was.

"A Marquis!" he murmured; "and the other swell-looking fellow must beM. Mascarin."Paul was about to step forward, when Beaumarchef respectfully accostedthe last comer,--"Who do you think, sir," said he, "I have just seen?""Tell me quickly," was the impatient reply.

"Caroline Schimmel; you know who I mean.""What! the woman who was in the service of the Duchess of Champdoce?""Exactly so."M. Mascarin uttered an exclamation of delight.

"Where is she living now?"Beaumarchef was utterly overwhelmed by this simple question. For thefirst time in his life he had omitted to take a client's address. Thisomission made Mascarin so angry that he forgot all his good manners,and broke out with an oath that would have shamed a London cabman,--"How could you be such an infernal fool? We have been hunting for thiswoman for five months. You knew this as well as I did, and yet, whenchance brings her to you, you let her slip through your fingers andvanish again.""She'll be back again, sir; never fear. She won't fling away the moneythat she had paid for fees.""And what do you think that she cares for ten sous or ten francs?

She'll be back when she thinks she will; but a woman who drinks and isoff her head nearly all the year round----"Inspired by a sudden thought, Beaumarchef made a clutch at his hat.

"She has only just gone," said he; "I can easily overtake her."But Mascarin arrested his progress.

"You are not a good bloodhound. Take Toto Chupin with you; he isoutside with his chestnuts, and is as fly as they make them. If youcatch her up, don't say a word, but follow her up, and see where shegoes. I want to know her whole daily life. Remember that no item,however unimportant it may seem, is not of consequence."Beaumarchef disappeared in an instant, and Mascarin continued togrumble.

"What a fool!" he murmured. "If I could only do everything myself. Iworried my life out for months, trying to find the clue to the mysterywhich this woman holds, and now she has again escaped me."Paul, who saw that his presence was not remarked, coughed to drawattention to it. In an instant Mascarin turned quickly round.

"Excuse me," said Paul; but the set smile had already resumed itsplace upon Mascarin's countenance.

"You are," remarked he, civilly, "Paul Violaine, are you not?"The young man bowed in assent.

"Forgive my absence for an instant. I will be back directly," saidMascarin.

He passed through the door, and in another instant Paul heard his namecalled.

Compared to the outer chamber, Mascarin's office was quite a luxuriousapartment, for the windows were bright, the paper on the walls fresh,and the floor carpeted. But few of the visitors to the office couldboast of having been admitted into this sanctum; for generallybusiness was conducted at Beaumarchef's table in the outer room. Paul,however, who was unacquainted with the prevailing rule, was not awareof the distinction with which he had been received. Mascarin, on hisvisitor's entrance, was comfortably seated in an armchair before thefire, with his elbow on his desk--and what a spectacle did that deskpresent! It was a perfect world in itself, and indicated that itsproprietor was a man of many trades. It was piled with books anddocuments, while a great deal of the space was occupied by squarepieces of cardboard, upon each of which was a name in large letters,while underneath was writing in very minute characters.

With a benevolent gesture, Mascarin pointed to an armchair, and inencouraging tones said, "And now let us talk."It was plain to Paul that Mascarin was not acting, but that the kindand patriarchal expression upon his face was natural to it, and theyoung man felt that he could safely intrust his whole future to him.

"I have heard," commenced Mascarin, "that your means of livelihood arevery precarious, or rather that you have none, and are ready to takethe first one that offers you a means of subsistence. That, at least,is what I hear from my poor friend Tantaine.""He has explained my case exactly.""Good; only before proceeding to the future, let us speak of thepast."Paul gave a start, which Mascarin noticed, for he added,--"You will excuse the freedom I am taking; but it is absolutelynecessary that I should know to what I am binding myself. Tantainetells me that you are a charming young man, strictly honest, and welleducated; and now that I have had the pleasure of meeting you, I amsure that he is right; but I can only deal with proofs, and must bequite certain before I act on your behalf with third parties.""I have nothing to conceal, sir, and am ready to answer anyquestions," responded Paul.

A slight smile, which Paul did not detect, played round the corners ofMascarin's mouth, and, with a gesture, with which all who knew himwere familiar, he pushed back his glasses on his nose.

"I thank you," answered he; "it is not so easy as you may suppose tohide anything from me." He took one of the packets of pasteboard slipsform his desk, and shuffling them like a pack of cards, continued,"Your name is Marie Paul Violaine. You were born at Poitiers, in theRue des Vignes, on the 5th of January, 1843, and are therefore in yourtwenty-fourth year.""That is quite correct, sir.""You are an illegitimate child?"The first question had surprised Paul; the second absolutely astoundedhim.

"Quite true, sir," replied he, not attempting to hide his surprise;"but I had no idea that M. Tantaine was so well informed; thepartition which divided our rooms must have been thinner than Ithought."Mascarin took no notice of this remark, but continued to shuffle andexamine his pieces of cardboard. Had Paul caught a clear glimpse ofthese, he would have seen his initials in the corner of each.

"Your mother," went on Mascarin, "kept, for the last fifteen years ofher life, a little haberdasher's shop.""Just so.""But a business of that description in a town like Poitiers, does notbring in very remunerative results, and luckily she received for yoursupport and education a sum of one thousand francs per year."This time Paul started from his seat, for he was sure that Tantainecould not have learned this secret at the Hotel de Perou.

"Merciful powers, sir!" cried he; "who could have told you a thingthat has never passed my lips since my arrival in Paris, and of whicheven Rose is entirely ignorant?"Mascarin raised his shoulders.

"You can easily comprehend," remarked he, "that a man in my line ofbusiness has to learn many things. If I did not take the greatestprecautions, I should be deceived daily, and so lead others intoerror."Paul had not been more than an hour in the office, but the directionsgiven to Beaumarchef had already taught him how many of these eventswere arranged.

"Though I may be curious," went on Mascarin, "I am the symbol ofdiscretion; so answer me frankly: How did your mother receive thisannuity?""Through a Parisian solicitor.""Do you know him?""Not at all," answered Paul, who had begun to grow uneasy under thisquestioning, for a kind of vague apprehension was aroused in his mind,and he could not see the utility of any of these interrogations. Therewas, however, nothing in Mascarin's manner to justify the misgivingsof the young man, for he appeared to ask all these questions in quitea matter-of-course way, as if they were purely affairs of business.

After a protracted silence, Mascarin resumed,--"I am half inclined to believe that the solicitor sent the money onhis own account.""No, sir," answered Paul. "I am sure you are mistaken.""Why are you so certain?""Because my mother, who was the incarnation of truth, often assured methat my father died before my birth. Poor mother! I loved andrespected her too much to question her on these matters. One day,however, impelled by an unworthy feeling of curiosity, I dared to askher the name of our protector. She burst into tears, and then I felthow mean and cruel I had been. I never learned his name but I knowthat he was not my father."Mascarin affected not to notice the emotion of his young client.

"Did the allowance cease at your mother's death?" continued he.

"No; it was stopped when I came of age. My mother told me that thiswould be the case; but it seems only yesterday that she spoke to me ofit. It was on my birthday, and she had prepared a little treat for mysupper; for in spite of the affliction my birth had caused her, sheloved me fondly. Poor mother! 'Paul,' said she, 'at your birth agenuine friend promised to help me to bring up and educate you, and hekept his word. But you are now twenty-one, and must expect nothingmore from him. My son, you are a man now, and I have only you to lookto. Work and earn an honest livelihood----' "Paul could proceed no farther, for his emotions choked him.

"My mother died suddenly some ten months after this conversation--without time to communicate anything to me, and I was left perfectlyalone in the world; and were I to die to-morrow, there would not be asoul to follow me to my grave."Mascarin put on a sympathetic look.

"Not quite so bad as that, my young friend; I trust that you have onenow."Mascarin rose from his seat, and for a few minutes paced up and downthe room, and then halted, with his arms folded, before the young man.

"You have heard me," said he, "and I will not put any furtherquestions which it will but pain you to reply to, for I only wished totake your measure, and to judge of your truth from your replies. Youwill ask why? Ah, that is a question I cannot answer to-day, but youshall know later on. Be assured, however, that I know everything aboutyou, but I cannot tell you by what means. Say it has all happened bychance. Chance has broad shoulders, and can bear a great deal."This ambiguous speech caused a thrill of terror to pass through Paul,which was plainly visible on his expressive features.

"Are you alarmed?" asked Mascarin, readjusting his spectacles.

"I am much surprised, sir," stammered Paul.

"Come, come! what can a man in your circumstances have to fear? Thereis no use racking your brain; you will find out all you want quicklyenough, and had best make up your mind to place yourself in my handswithout reserve, for my sole desire is to be of service to you."These words were uttered in the most benevolent manner; and as heresumed his seat, he added,--"Now let us talk of myself. Your mother, whom you justly say was athoroughly good woman, pinched herself in order to keep you at collegeat Poitiers. You entered a solicitor's office at eighteen, I think?""Yes, sir.""But your mother's desire was to see you established at Loudon orCevray. Perhaps she hoped that her wealthy friend would aid you stillfurther. Unluckily, however, you had no inclination for the law."Paul smiled, but Mascarin went on with some little severity.

"I repeat, unfortunately; and I think that by this time you have gonethrough enough to be of my opinion. What did you do instead ofstudying law? You did--what? You wasted your time over music, andcomposed songs, and, I know, an opera, and thought yourself a perfectgenius."Paul had listened up to this time with patience, but at this sarcasmhe endeavored to protest; but it was in vain, for Mascarin went onpitilessly,--"One day you abandoned the study of the law, and told your mother thatuntil you had made your name as a musical composer you would givelessons on the piano; but you could obtain no pupils, and--well, justlook in the glass yourself, and say if you think that your age andappearance would justify parents in intrusting their daughters to yourtuition?"Mascarin stopped for a moment and consulted his notes afresh.

"Your departure from Poitiers," he went on, "was your last act offolly. The very day after your poor mother's death you collectedtogether all her scanty savings, and took the train to Paris.""Then, sir, I had hoped----""What, to arrive at fortune by the road of talent? Foolish boy! Everyyear a thousand poor wretches have been thus intoxicated by theirprovincial celebrity, and have started for Paris, buoyed up by similarhopes. Do you know the end of them? At the end of ten years--I givethem no longer--nine out of ten die of starvation and disappointment,and the other joins the criminal army."Paul had often repeated this to himself, and could, therefore, make noreply.

"But," went on Mascarin, "you did not leave Poitiers alone; youcarried off with you a young girl named Rose Pigoreau.""Pray, let me explain.""It would be useless. The fact speaks for itself. In six months yourlittle store had disappeared; then came poverty and starvation, and atlast, in the Hotel de Perou, your thoughts turned to suicide, and youwere only saved by my old friend Tantaine."Paul felt his temper rising, for these plain truths were hard to bear;but fear lest he should lose his protector kept him silent.

"I admit everything, sir," said he calmly. "I was a fool, and almostmad, but experience has taught me a bitter lesson. I am here to-day,and this fact should tell you that I have given up all my vainhallucinations.""Will you give up Rose Pigoreau?"As this abrupt question was put to him, Paul turned pale with anger.

"I love Rose," answered he coldly; "she believes in me, and has sharedmy troubles with courage, and one day she shall be my wife."Raising his velvet cap from his head, Mascarin bowed with an ironicalair, saying, "Is that so? Then I beg a thousand pardons. It is urgentthat you should have immediate employment. Pray, what can you do? Notmuch of anything, I fancy;--like most college bred boys, you can do alittle of everything, and nothing well. Had I a son, and an enormousincome, I would have him taught a trade."Paul bit his lip; but he knew the portrait was a true one.

"And now," continued Mascarin, "I have come to your aid, and what doyou say to a situation with a salary of twelve thousand francs?"This sum was so much greater than Paul had dared to hope, that hebelieved Mascarin was amusing himself at his expense.

"It is not kind of you to laugh at me, under the presentcircumstances," remarked he.

Mascarin was not laughing at him; but it as fully half an hour beforehe could prove this to Paul.

"You would like more proof of what I say," said he, after a longconversation. "Very well, then; shall I advance your first month'ssalary?" And as he spoke, he took a thousand-franc note from his desk,and offered it to Paul. The young man rejected the note; but the forceof the argument struck him; and he asked if he was capable of carryingout the duties which such a salary doubtless demanded.

"Were I not certain of your abilities, I should not offer it to you,"replied Mascarin. "I am in a hurry now, or I would explain the wholeaffair; but I must defer doing so until to-morrow, when please come atthe same hour as you did to-day."Even in his state of surprise and stupefaction, Paul felt that thiswas a signal for him to depart.

"A moment more," said Mascarin. "You understand that you can no longerremain at the Hotel de Perou? Try and find a room in thisneighborhood; and when you have done so, leave the address at theoffice. Good-bye, my young friend, until to-morrow, and learn to beargood fortune."For a few minutes Mascarin stood at the door of the office watchingPaul, who departed almost staggering beneath the burden of so manyconflicting emotions; and when he saw him disappear round the corner,he ran to a glazed door which led to his bed chamber, and in a loudwhisper called, "Come in, Hortebise. He has gone."A man obeyed the summons at once, and hurriedly drew up a chair to thefire. "My feet are almost frozen," exclaimed he; "I should not know itif any one was to chop them off. Your room, my dear Baptiste, is aperfect refrigerator. Another time, please, have a fire lighted init."This speech, however, did not disturb Mascarin's line of thought. "Didyou hear all?" asked he.

"I saw and heard all that you did.""And what do you think of the lad?""I think that Daddy Tantaine is a man of observation and powerfulwill, and that he will mould this child between his fingers like wax."