CHAPTER XXIX.
HUMILIATION AND CONSOLATION.
On hearing Herminie's appeal, M. de Maillefort turned and asked, coldly and sternly:
"What do you want, mademoiselle?"
"What do I want, monsieur?" the girl exclaimed, her cheeks on fire, her eyes sparkling with tears of wounded pride and indignation. "What I want is to tell this man in your presence that he lies."
"I?" snorted M. Bouffard, indignantly. "Really, this is a little too much, when I have the yellow boys right here in my pocket."
"But I tell you that you lie!" cried the girl, advancing towards him, with a commanding gesture. "I have given no one the right to pay you, or to make me the victim of such an insult."
In spite of the coarseness of his nature, M. Bouffard was not a little impressed by this display of fiery indignation, so retreating a step or two, the owner of the house stammered by way of excuse:
"But I swear to you, mademoiselle, upon my sacred word of honour, that, as I was going up-stairs a few minutes ago, I was stopped on the first landing by a handsome, dark-complexioned young man who gave me this gold to pay your rent. I'm telling you the honest truth; upon my word I am!"
"Oh, my God, to be humiliated and insulted like this!" cried the young girl, her long repressed sobs bursting forth at last.
After a moment, turning to the hunchback, a silent witness of the scene, Herminie said, in entreating tones, her beautiful face bathed with tears:
"Oh, in pity, do not believe that I have merited this insult, M. le marquis."
"A marquis!" muttered M. Bouffard, hastily removing his hat, which he had kept upon his head up to that time.
M. de Maillefort, turning to Herminie, his face beaming as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his heart, took her by the hand as a father might have done, and said:
"I believe you, I believe you, my dear child! Do not stoop to justify yourself. Your tears, and the evident sincerity of your words, as well as your just indignation, all satisfy me that you are speaking the truth, and that this insulting liberty was taken without your knowledge or consent."
"I am certainly willing to say this much," said M. Bouffard, "though I've been in the habit of coming to the house almost every day, I never saw this young man before. But why do you feel so badly about it, my dear young lady? Your rent is paid, and you may as well make the best of it. There are plenty of other people who would like to be humiliated in the same way. Ha, ha, ha!" added M. Bouffard, with his coarse laugh.
"But you will not keep this money, monsieur?" cried Herminie. "I beg you will not; sell my piano,--my bed,--anything I possess, but in pity return this money to the person who gave it to you. If you keep it, the shame is mine, monsieur!"
"How you do go on!" exclaimed M. Bouffard. "I didn't feel insulted in the least in pocketing my rent. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, you know. Besides, where am I likely to find this handsome young man to return him his money? He is a stranger to me. I haven't the slightest idea who he is or where he came from; but it can easily be arranged. When you see the fellow you can tell him that it was against your wishes that I kept his money, but that I am a regular old Shylock and all that. Put all the blame on me, I don't mind; I've got a thick hide."
"Mademoiselle," said M. de Maillefort, addressing Herminie, who, with her face buried in her hands, was silently weeping, "will you consent to take my advice?"
"What would you have me do, monsieur?"
"Accept from me, who am old enough to be your father,--from me, who was the devoted friend of a person for whom you had as much respect as affection,--accept from me a loan sufficient to pay this gentleman. Each month you can pay me in small instalments. As for the money monsieur has already received, why, he must do his best to find the stranger who gave it to him. If he fails, he must give the money to some local charity."
Herminie listened to this proposal with the liveliest gratitude.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, M. le marquis," she exclaimed. "I accept your kind offer gladly, and am proud to be under obligations to you."
"But I utterly refuse to be a party to any such arrangement," exclaimed M. Bouffard.
"And why, monsieur?" demanded the marquis.
"I will not,--I will not, I tell you. It sha'n't be said that--in short, I'm not such a monster that--but no matter, let it be understood, once for all, that the marquis is to keep his money. I'll try to find that young coxcomb; if I don't, I'll drop his money in the poor-box. I won't sell your piano, mademoiselle, but I'll be paid, all the same. What do you say to that?"
"Have the goodness to explain, monsieur, if you please," said the marquis.
"Well, this is the long and short of it," answered M. Bouffard. "My daughter Cornelia has a music teacher, quite a famous teacher, I believe,--a M. Tonnerriliuskoff--"
"With such a name one ought certainly to make a noise in the world,"
said the marquis.
"And on the piano, too, M. le marquis. He's a six-footer, with a big, black moustache, and hands as big as--as shoulders of mutton. But this famous teacher costs like the devil,--fifteen francs a lesson, to say nothing of the repairs to the piano, which he almost hammers to pieces, he is so strong. Now if mademoiselle here would give Cornelia lessons at five--no, say four francs a lesson, and three lessons a week,--that would make twelve francs a week,--she could soon pay me what she owes me, and afterwards could pay her entire rent that way."
"Bravo, M. Bouffard!" cried the marquis.
"Well, what do you think of my proposition, mademoiselle?"
"I accept it most gratefully, and thank you with all my heart for this chance to free myself of my obligations to you in such an easy way. I assure you that I will do everything possible to further your daughter's progress."
"Oh, that will be all right, I'm sure. It is understood, is it? Three lessons a week, at four francs a lesson, beginning day after to-morrow.
That will be twelve francs a week,--better call it ten, I guess,--it's easier to calculate. Ten francs a week makes forty francs a month,--quite a snug little sum."
"Any terms you choose to name will suit me, monsieur. I accept them gratefully."
"Ah, well, my dear sir," said the marquis, turning to M. Bouffard, "aren't you much better satisfied with yourself now than you were awhile ago, when you were frightening this poor child nearly to death by your threats?"
"That's a fact, monsieur,--that's a fact, for this young lady is certainly deserving. Then, too, I shall get rid of that odious music master, with his big, black moustache and fifteen franc lessons.
Besides, he is always having his big hands on Cornelia's hands to show her the fingering, he says, and I don't like it."
"My dear M. Bouffard," said the marquis, taking the ex-grocer a little aside, "will you allow me to give you a word of advice?"
"Why certainly, M. le marquis."
"Never give masters to a young girl or a young woman, because sometimes, you see, there is a change of roles."
"A change of roles, M. le marquis?" repeated M. Bouffard, wonderingly.
"Yes; not unfrequently the scholar becomes the mistress,--the mistress of the master. Understand?"
"The mistress of the master? Oh, yes, very good! I understand perfectly.
That is good; very good, indeed! Ha, ha, ha!"
Then, suddenly becoming serious, he added:
"But now I think of it, if that Hercule de Tonnerriliuskoff undertakes--"
"Mlle. Bouffard's virtue must be above suspicion, my dear sir; still, it might be safer--"
"The brigand shall never set foot in my house again. Thanks for your counsel, M. le marquis."