"Certainly, marquis. Well, in that event, you would not fail to come to our assistance, and warn us of our danger."
"That is what an observer is for," laughingly remarked M. de Maillefort, rising to take leave.
"What, marquis, you are going so soon?"
"To my great regret. I must make the tour of five or six drawing-rooms, to hear what people are saying about your young heiress. You have no idea how amusing, curious, and sometimes revolting the remarks upon the subject of her immense dowry are!"
"Ah, well, my dear marquis," said Madame de la Rochaigue, offering her hand to the hunchback in the most cordial manner, "I hope to see you often, very often; and as all this seems to interest you so much, I shall keep you fully posted."
"And I, too, will promise to tell you everything I hear. It will be wonderfully amusing. And, by the way," added the marquis, with the most careless air imaginable, though he had come to Madame de la Rochaigue's house as much to endeavour to secure some light upon an as yet impenetrable mystery as to see Ernestine,--"by the way, did you ever hear anything about an illegitimate child that M. de Beaumesnil left?"
"M. de Beaumesnil?" asked the baroness, with evident surprise.
"Yes," replied the hunchback, for, in putting the question thus, he hoped to attain his object without endangering the secret he thought he had discovered in relation to Madame de Beaumesnil; "yes, did you never hear that M. de Beaumesnil had an illegitimate child?"
"No," replied the baroness, "this is the first time I ever heard of any such rumour, though a long while ago there was some talk about a liaison the countess had prior to her marriage. It must, consequently, have been in connection with her that you heard this story of an illegitimate child, but I, myself, have never heard anything on the subject before."
"Then whether this rumour relates to the count or the countess, there is evidently not the slightest truth in it, my dear baroness, for, by reason of your close connection with the family, you would have been sure to know of the matter."
"And I assure you, marquis, that we have never heard or seen anything that would lead us to suppose that either M. or Madame de Beaumesnil left any illegitimate child."
M. de Maillefort, who was endowed with an unusual amount of penetration, as well as tact, now felt fully convinced of Madame de la Rochaigue's entire ignorance of the existence of any illegitimate child, and the failure of this fresh attempt on his part caused him deep chagrin, particularly as he began to despair of discovering any trace of this unknown child, and of thus complying with Madame de Beaumesnil's dying request.
Madame de la Rochaigue, without appearing to notice the hunchback's preoccupation, continued, gaily:
"It is really very amusing to listen to all the rumours that are afloat concerning our ward's inheritance, as well as the large but singular legacies left by the countess."
"Indeed?"
"There is little or no foundation for these absurd reports," continued the baroness, in supercilious tones, for she had always disliked Madame de Beaumesnil. "The countess left a few trifling legacies to three or four old retainers, and small gratuities to her other servants. That is all the magnificent legacies, of which everybody is talking, amount to.
But while the countess was in such a generous mood, she ought not to have been guilty of the ingratitude of forgetting a poor girl to whom she certainly owed some recognition of her services."
"To whom do you refer?" asked the marquis, concealing the pain he felt on hearing the baroness thus asperse Madame de Beaumesnil's memory. "Of what young girl are you speaking?"
"You have not heard, then, that, during the last days of her life, the countess, at the advice of her physician, summoned to her bedside a young and talented musician, who assisted not a little in assuaging the lady's sufferings?"
"It seems to me that I do recollect hearing this fact spoken of,"
answered the marquis.
"Well, does it not seem monstrous that the countess did not leave even a slight legacy to this poor girl? It may have been an oversight on her part, but, to me, it looks exceedingly like ingratitude."
The marquis knew Madame de Beaumesnil's kindness and nobility of heart so well that he, too, was struck by this apparent forgetfulness of the young artiste's claims.
After a moment of reflection, however, he vaguely felt that, inasmuch as such an oversight, if real, was inexplicable, there must have been something more than a mere failure of memory in the circumstance, so he said:
"You are sure, madame, that this young girl received no remuneration from Madame de Beaumesnil for her services? You are positive of it?"
"We were so unanimously convinced of the fact," replied the baroness, delighted at this opportunity to show her generosity, "that, deploring this ingratitude on the part of the countess, we decided to send five hundred francs to the young girl."
"That was only just."
"I think so, too, but what do you think came of it?"
"I haven't the slightest idea."
"Well, the young artiste brought the five hundred francs back to us and told us that she had been paid."
"She must be a noble-hearted girl," exclaimed the marquis; "but you see from that, that the countess had not forgotten the young musician, after all. Doubtless, she must have given her a suitable token of her gratitude while she was alive instead of leaving her a legacy."
"You would not think so, monsieur, if you had seen how indicative of decent poverty the young girl's garments were. She would certainly have been better dressed if she had been a recipient of Madame de Beaumesnil's bounty. In fact, the young artiste, who, by the way, is wonderfully handsome, so excited my compassion and admiration by the delicacy of her conduct that I suggested she should come and give Ernestine music lessons."
"You did? Why, that was very noble of you!"
"Your astonishment is not very flattering, marquis."
"You mistake admiration for astonishment, baroness. I am not surprised in the least. I know the wonderful kindness and gentleness of your heart too well," added M. de Maillefort, concealing his hope that he had at last found the desired clue under his usual persiflage.
"Instead of making fun of my kindness of heart, marquis," replied Madame de la Rochaigue, "you ought to imitate it by endeavouring to procure the poor young girl some pupils among your numerous acquaintances."
"Certainly," replied the marquis, rather indifferently, however; "I will do the best I can for your protegee, though I am not considered much of a musical connoisseur, I fear. But what is this young girl's name, and where does she live?"
"Her name is Herminie, and she lives on the Rue de Monceau. I don't remember the number, but I will ascertain and let you know."
"I will secure some pupils for Mlle. Herminie if I can; but, in return, if I should ever ask your protection for some suitor for Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand,--some suitor whom I see getting the worst of it in the melee, you will grant my request, will you not?"
"You set a high value on your services, I must say, marquis," replied the baroness, laughing in a very constrained way; "but I am sure we shall come to an amicable understanding."
"You can not imagine how deeply I rejoice in advance at the touching harmony which is henceforth to exist between us, my dear baroness. Well, after all, let us admit that this little orgy of sincerity has been of immense advantage to us. We are full of confidence in each other now, are we not, my dear baroness?"
"Unquestionably, and mutual confidence, alas, is so rare!" exclaimed the baroness, with a sigh.
"But all the more precious when it is found, eh, my dear baroness?"
"Unquestionably, my dear marquis. _Au revoir_, then, if you must go. I shall hope to see you again very soon."
"I trust so," responded M. de Maillefort, as he left the room.
"Detestable man!" exclaimed Madame de la Rochaigue, springing from the sofa, and beginning to pace the room excitedly, while she gave vent to her long-repressed feelings. "Every word that accursed hunchback uttered contained either a sarcasm or a threat," she added, venomously.
"He's a contemptible scoundrel! There isn't the slightest doubt of it,"
exclaimed the baron, suddenly drawing aside the portieres at one of the doors opening into the drawing-room.
CHAPTER XXIII.
AN INVOLUNTARY AVERSION.