Detective Lecoq - Complete Murder Mysteries. Emile Gaboriau
me, if my elevation came suddenly upon them. Besides, by this delay, I shall accustom myself to my abrupt change of fortune. I ought not to bring into your world, which is now mine, the manners of a parvenu. My name ought not to inconvenience me, like a badly fitting coat.”
“Perhaps it would be wisest,” murmured the count.
This assent, so easily obtained, surprised Noel. He got the idea that the count had only wished to prove him, to tempt him. In any case, whether he had triumphed by his eloquence, or whether he had simply shunned a trap, he had succeeded. His confidence increased; he recovered all his former assurance.
“I must add, sir,” he continued, “that there are a few matters concerning myself which demand my attention. Before entering upon my new life, I must think of those I am leaving behind me. I have friends and clients. This event has surprised me, just as I am beginning to reap the reward of ten years of hard work and perseverance. I have as yet only sown; I am on the point of reaping. My name is already known; I have obtained some little influence. I confess, without shame, that I have heretofore professed ideas and opinions that would not be suited to this house; and it is impossible in the space of a day —”
“Ah!” interrupted the count in a bantering tone, “you are a liberal. It is a fashionable disease. Albert also was a great liberal.”
“My ideas, sir,” said Noel quickly, “were those of every intelligent man who wishes to succeed. Besides, have not all parties one and the same aim — power? They merely take different means of reaching it. I will not enlarge upon this subject. Be assured, sir, that I shall know how to bear my name, and think and act as a man of my rank should.”
“I trust so,” said M. de Commarin; “and I hope that you will never make me regret Albert.”
“At least, sir, it will not be my fault. But, since you have mentioned the name of that unfortunate young man, let us occupy ourselves about him.”
The count cast a look of distrust upon Noel.
“What can now be done for Albert?” he asked.
“What, sir!” cried Noel with ardour, “would you abandon him, when he has not a friend left in the world? He is still your son, sir, he is my brother; for thirty years he has borne the name of Commarin. All the members of a family are jointly liable. Innocent, or guilty, he has a right to count upon us; and we owe him our assistance.”
“What do you then hope for, sir?” asked the count.
“To save him, if he is innocent; and I love to believe that he is. I am an advocate, sir, and I wish to defend him. I have been told that I have some talent; in such a cause I must have. Yes, however strong the charges against him may be, I will overthrow them. I will dispel all doubts. The truth shall burst forth at the sound of my voice. I will find new accents to imbue the judges with my own conviction. I will save him, and this shall be my last cause.”
“And if he should confess,” said the count, “if he has already confessed?”
“Then, sir,” replied Noel with a dark look, “I will render him the last service, which in such a misfortune I should ask of a brother, I will procure him the means of avoiding judgment.”
“That is well spoken, sir,” said the count, “very well, my son!”
And he held out his hand to Noel, who pressed it, bowing a respectful acknowledgment. The advocate took a long breath. At last he had found the way to this haughty noble’s heart; he had conquered, he had pleased him.
“Let us return to yourself, sir,” continued the count. “I yield to the reasons which you have suggested. All shall be done as you desire. But do not consider this a precedent. I never change my plans, even though they are proved to be bad, and contrary to my interests. But at least nothing prevents your remaining here from today, and taking your meals with me. We will, first of all, see where you can be lodged, until you formally take possession of the apartments which are to be prepared for you.”
Noel had the hardihood to again interrupt the old nobleman.
“Sir,” said he, “when you bade me follow you here, I obeyed you, as was my duty. Now another and a sacred duty calls me away. Madame Gerdy is at this moment dying. Ought I to leave the deathbed of her who filled my mother’s place?”
“Valerie!” murmured the count. He leaned upon the arm of his chair, his face buried in his hands; in one moment the whole past rose up before him.
“She has done me great harm,” he murmured, as if answering his thoughts. “She has ruined my whole life; but ought I to be implacable? She is dying from the accusation which is hanging over Albert our son. It was I who was the cause of it all. Doubtless, in this last hour, a word from me would be a great consolation to her. I will accompany you, sir.”
Noel started at this unexpected proposal.
“O sir!” said he hastily, “spare yourself, pray, a heart-rending sight. Your going would be useless. Madame Gerdy exists probably still; but her mind is dead. Her brain was unable to resist so violent a shock. The unfortunate woman would neither recognise nor understand you.”
“Go then alone,” sighed the count, “go, my son!”
The words “my son,” pronounced with a marked emphasis, sounded like a note of victory in Noel’s ears.
He bowed to take his leave. The count motioned him to wait.
“In any case,” he said, “a place at table will be set for you here. I dine at half-past six precisely. I shall be glad to see you.”
He rang. His valet appeared.
“Denis,” said he, “none of the orders I may give will affect this gentleman. You will tell this to all the servants. This gentleman is at home here.”
The advocate took his leave; and the count felt great comfort in being once more alone. Since morning, events had followed one another with such bewildering rapidity that his thoughts could scarcely keep pace with them. At last, he was able to reflect.
“That, then,” said he to himself, “is my legitimate son. I am sure of his birth, at any rate. Besides I should be foolish to disown him, for I find him the exact picture of myself at thirty. He is a handsome fellow, Noel, very handsome. His features are decidedly in his favour. He is intelligent and acute. He knows how to be humble without lowering himself, and firm without arrogance. His unexpected good fortune does not turn his head. I augur well of a man who knows how to bear himself in prosperity. He thinks well; he will carry his title proudly. And yet I feel no sympathy with him; it seems to me that I shall always regret my poor Albert. I never knew how to appreciate him. Unhappy boy! To commit such a vile crime! He must have lost his reason. I do not like the look of this one’s eye. They say that he is perfect. He expresses, at least, the noblest and most appropriate sentiments. He is gentle and strong, magnanimous, generous, heroic. He is without malice, and is ready to sacrifice himself to repay me for what I have done for him. He forgives Madame Gerdy; he loves Albert. It is enough to make one distrust him. But all young men now-a-days are so. Ah! we live in a happy age. Our children are born free from all human shortcomings. They have neither the vices, the passions, nor the tempers of their fathers; and these precocious philosophers, models of sagacity and virtue, are incapable of committing the least folly. Alas! Albert, too, was perfect; and he has assassinated Claudine! What will this one do? — All the same,” he added, half-aloud, “I ought to have accompanied him to see Valerie!”
And, although the advocate had been gone at least a good ten minutes, M. de Commarin, not realising how the time had passed, hastened to the window, in the hope of seeing Noel in the court-yard, and calling him back.
But Noel was already far away. On leaving the house, he took a cab and was quickly driven to the Rue St. Lazare.
On reaching his own door, he threw rather than gave five francs to the driver, and ran rapidly up the four flights of stairs.
“Who has called to see me?” he asked of the servant.
“No