Where was he to get the money? Frederick was well aware from his own experience how hard it was to obtain it immediately, no matter at what cost. There was only one person who could help him in the matter—Madame Dambreuse. She always kept a good supply of banknotes in her escritoire. He called at her house; and in an unblushing fashion:
“Have you twelve thousand francs to lend me?”
“What for?”
That was another person’s secret. She wanted to know who this person was. He would not give way on this point. They were equally determined not to yield. Finally, she declared that she would give nothing until she knew for what purpose it was wanted.
Frederick’s face became very flushed; and he stated that one of his comrades had committed a theft. It was necessary to replace the sum this very day.
“Let me know his name? His name? Come! what’s his name?”
“Dussardier!”
And he threw himself on his knees, imploring of her to say nothing about it.
“What idea have you got into your head about me?” Madame Dambreuse replied. “One would imagine that you were the guilty party yourself. Pray, have done with your tragic airs! Hold on! here’s the money! and much good may it do him!”
He hurried off to see Arnoux. That worthy merchant was not in his shop. But he was still residing in the Rue de Paradis, for he had two domiciles.
In the Rue de Paradis, the porter said that M. Arnoux had been away since the evening before. As for Madame, he ventured to say nothing; and Frederick, having rushed like an arrow up the stairs, laid his ear against the keyhole. At length, the door was opened. Madame had gone out with Monsieur. The servant could not say when they would be back; her wages had been paid, and she was leaving herself.
Suddenly he heard the door creaking.
“But is there anyone in the room?”
“Oh, no, Monsieur! it is the wind.”
Thereupon he withdrew. There was something inexplicable in such a rapid disappearance.
Regimbart, being Mignot’s intimate friend, could perhaps enlighten him? And Frederick got himself driven to that gentleman’s house at Montmartre in the Rue l’Empereur.
Attached to the house there was a small garden shut in by a grating which was stopped up with iron plates. Three steps before the hall-door set off the white front; and a person passing along the footpath could see the two rooms on the ground-floor, the first of which was a parlour with ladies’ dresses lying on the furniture on every side, and the second the workshop in which Madame Regimbart’s female assistants were accustomed to sit.
They were all convinced that Monsieur had important occupations, distinguished connections, that he was a man altogether beyond comparison. When he was passing through the lobby with his hat cocked up at the sides, his long grave face, and his green frock-coat, the girls stopped in the midst of their work. Besides, he never failed to address to them a few words of encouragement, some observation which showed his ceremonious courtesy; and, afterwards, in their own homes they felt unhappy at not having been able to preserve him as their ideal.
No one, however, was so devoted to him as Madame Regimbart, an intelligent little woman, who maintained him by her handicraft.
As soon as M. Moreau had given his name, she came out quickly to meet him, knowing through the servants what his relations were with Madame Dambreuse. Her husband would be back in a moment; and Frederick, while he followed her, admired the appearance of the house and the profusion of oilcloth that was displayed in it. Then he waited a few minutes in a kind of office, into which the Citizen was in the habit of retiring, in order to be alone with his thoughts.
When they met, Regimbart’s manner was less cranky than usual.
He related Arnoux’s recent history. The ex-manufacturer of earthenware had excited the vanity of Mignot, a patriot who owned a hundred shares in the Siècle, by professing to show that it would be necessary from the democratic standpoint to change the management and the editorship of the newspaper; and under the pretext of making his views prevail in the next meeting of shareholders, he had given the other fifty shares, telling him that he could pass them on to reliable friends who would back up his vote. Mignot would have no personal responsibility, and need not annoy himself about anyone; then, when he had achieved success, he would be able to secure a good place in the administration of at least from five to six thousand francs. The shares had been delivered. But Arnoux had at once sold them, and with the money had entered into partnership with a dealer in religious articles. Thereupon came complaints from Mignot, to which Arnoux sent evasive answers. At last the patriot had threatened to bring against him a charge of cheating if he did not restore his share-certificates or pay an equivalent sum—fifty thousand francs.
Frederick’s face wore a look of despondency.
“That is not the whole of it,” said the Citizen. “Mignot, who is an honest fellow, has reduced his claim to one fourth. New promises on the part of the other, and, of course, new dodges. In short, on the morning of the day before yesterday Mignot sent him a written application to pay up, within twenty-four hours, twelve thousand francs, without prejudice to the balance.”
“But I have the amount!” said Frederick.
The Citizen slowly turned round:
“Humbug!”
“Excuse me! I have the money in my pocket. I brought it with me.”
“How you do go at it! By Jove, you do! However, ’tis too late now—the complaint has been lodged, and Arnoux is gone.”
“Alone?”
“No! along with his wife. They were seen at the Havre terminus.”
Frederick grew exceedingly pale. Madame Regimbart thought he was going to faint. He regained his self-possession with an effort, and had even sufficient presence of mind to ask two or three questions about the
