The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 67

I know not why, but these words sounded disagreeably to Esperance, who turned quickly. But f.a.giano was in the shadow, and Esperance saw only his eyes, which were very bright. The Vicomte began to think his nerves were sadly out of order.

Goutran, when the door had closed on the last of his guests, turned to him and asked how he would like a little walk up the Champs-Elysees.

"Very much," answered the Vicomte, "I need fresh air."

He took his hat from the hands of a lacquey, and the two young men walked off together. Neither knew that f.a.giano had not driven away with Comte Velleni, but that, standing in a dark doorway, he followed the Vicomte with his eyes. Hissing through his close shut teeth, he said:

"Yes, worthy son of thy father, I swear that I will have my revenge!"

CHAPTER XLIX.

HOW AND WHERE.

As the reporter had discovered, Jane Zeld occupied an apartment on the first floor of a small hotel, or rather, in one of those boarding-houses frequented by respectable people who come from the four quarters of the globe to enjoy the attractions of Paris. It was a most respectable establishment, with its iron gate _a l'Anglaise_, its well scrubbed steps, its parlor on the _rez de chaussee_, and its three floors above all occupied.

The lady who managed this enterprise was the widow of a captain. She wore English curls, spoke a few words in various languages, and had a marvelous ability for making out long bills. Her prices were high, very high, but the situation of her house was at once elegant and retired. It was a wonder that these items were not entered on the bill. She had never admitted any artists into her sanctuary until the intendant Maslenes one day offered her five hundred francs for an apartment which she usually rented for three, and no single women. Now Jane Zeld seemed to be a single woman, but Madame closed her eyes to this, and now that she divined a star in the future, Madame Vollard redoubled her courtesy to her lodger. She felt that she was a mine of wealth in the future.

That night Madame Vollard had insisted on dressing Jane herself, and she had excellent taste. She spent a number of hours dwelling on the undoubted success of "the dear child," and it was two o'clock when she heard the carriage. She ran down the stairs, and when she saw Jane and her remarkable costume, she raised her hands in astonishment.

"You have had a pleasant time, I trust!" she exclaimed.

Maslenes gently pushed her back.

"Excuse me, Madame, but the young lady is fatigued, and somewhat ill, I fear."

"Ill! What can I do for her? I have camphor, lavender water--what shall I get?"

Maslenes led Jane hastily to her room, saying as he did so:

"No, no, it is nothing. To-morrow will do. She only needs rest now."

Jane sank into a chair on reaching her salon.

Maslenes closed the door, and stood motionless and silent until she should see fit to speak.

How old was this man? Sixty probably, and yet his face was unwrinkled although his hair was perfectly white. His eyes were gray. He inspired at first sight a certain repulsion. There were indications of vices, but they were of vices that had burned themselves out, of pa.s.sions that had crumbled to ashes. Now, as he stood with his arms folded on his breast, his face expressed something more than the interest of a servant in his mistress. In his faded eyes there was great compa.s.sion. His pale lips trembled. Jane did not speak. He said gently:

"You are suffering?"

She started as if from sleep.

"No," she replied, "no. I did not know." Then she looked up. "Ah!" she said, "why did you drag me among these people? I will never go anywhere again. No, never!"

The man bit his lips. "And yet," he said, "you were received like a queen!"

"Why do you say that?" she asked, in a tone of great irritation. "Why do you try to awaken in me thoughts which should never be mine? A queen!

I!"

"But your talent--your voice?"

"What of them? Ah! leave me. I wish to be alone!"

She spoke with some harshness.

He answered sadly enough.

"I am always willing to obey you, Jane. Do not speak in that tone."

"Yes, I know that. Forgive me if I am cruel. Alas! You know what agony I hide within my breast." She rose to her feet as she spoke. "Why," she cried, "why did not that fire burn me to death? I should have suffered less than from this flame which devours my heart!"

She leaned her head against the wall, and burst into pa.s.sionate weeping.

Maslenes, too, had tears in his eyes. It was plain that he cherished a mysterious affection for this beautiful woman, who was tortured by some secret sorrow.

"Jane,--Miss Jane," he corrected himself quickly. "I have never seen you like this before. Some one must have insulted you!"

His eyes flashed as he said this.

"No," murmured Jane. "No, nothing of the kind."

"Then you are over-excited by this accident. Pray, try and control yourself. I know that there are sad thoughts, which you cannot drive from your mind, but you are young; you have the future before you, you will forget the past. You must!"

Jane dried her tears with her lace handkerchief, and her face became suddenly calm.

"Yes, I will forget," she replied, firmly. "You are right, I must do so.

Forgive me!"

She extended her hand.

He hesitated and, drawing back, replied:

"We will talk together to-morrow. You know that you may rely on me."

"Yes, and I am very weary."

The intendant left the room. When outside the room, he caught at the railing, and with almost a sob, exclaimed: "How miserable I am!"

"Well!" asked Madame, from the foot of the stairs, "is the poor child any better?"

"Yes, thank you. There was an accident; her dress took fire."

"What a pity! A new dress, too. But I can offer her another in its place--one that has just come into my hands."

"You can talk with her about it to-morrow. At present I am worn out."