Here was a weapon placed in Madame Dambreuse’s hands—she had no doubt about it. But her notary would advise her to take no step in the affair. She would have preferred to act through some obscure person, and she thought of that big fellow with such an impudent expression of face, who had offered her his services.
Frederick ingenuously performed this commission for her.
The advocate was enchanted at the idea of having business relations with such an aristocratic lady.
He hurried to Madame Dambreuse’s house.
She informed him that the inheritance belonged to her niece, a further reason for liquidating those debts which she should repay, her object being to overwhelm Martinon’s wife by a display of greater attention to the deceased’s affairs.
Deslauriers guessed that there was some hidden design underlying all this. He reflected while he was examining the bills. Madame Arnoux’s name, traced by her own hand, brought once more before his eyes her entire person, and the insult which he had received at her hands. Since vengeance was offered to him, why should he not snatch at it?
He accordingly advised Madame Dambreuse to have the bad debts which went with the inheritance sold by auction. A man of straw, whose name would not be divulged, would buy them up, and would exercise the legal rights thus given him to realise them. He would take it on himself to provide a man to discharge this function.
Towards the end of the month of November, Frederick, happening to pass through the street in which Madame Arnoux had lived, raised his eyes towards the windows of her house, and saw posted on the door a placard on which was printed in large letters:
“Sale of valuable furniture, consisting of kitchen utensils, body and table linen, shirts and chemises, lace, petticoats, trousers, French and Indian cashmeres, an Erard piano, two Renaissance oak chests, Venetian mirrors, Chinese and Japanese pottery.”
“ ’Tis their furniture!” said Frederick to himself, and his suspicions were confirmed by the doorkeeper.
As for the person who had given instructions for the sale, he could get no information on that head. But perhaps the auctioneer, Maître Berthelmot, might be able to throw light on the subject.
The functionary did not at first want to tell what creditor was having the sale carried out. Frederick pressed him on the point. It was a gentleman named Sénécal, an agent; and Maître Berthelmot even carried his politeness so far as to lend his newspaper—the Petites Affiches—to Frederick.
The latter, on reaching Rosanette’s house, flung down this paper on the table spread wide open.
“Read that!”
“Well, what?” said she with a face so calm that it roused up in him a feeling of revolt.
“Ah! keep up that air of innocence!”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“ ’Tis you who are selling out Madame Arnoux yourself!”
She read over the announcement again.
“Where is her name?”
“Oh! ’tis her furniture. You know that as well as I do.”
“What does that signify to me?” said Rosanette, shrugging her shoulders.
“What does it signify to you? But you are taking your revenge, that’s all. This is the consequence of your persecutions. Haven’t you outraged her so far as to call at her house?—you, a worthless creature! and this to the most saintly, the most charming, the best woman that ever lived! Why do you set your heart on ruining her?”
“I assure you, you are mistaken!”
“Come now! As if you had not put Sénécal forward to do this!”
“What nonsense!”
Then he was carried away with rage.
“You lie! you lie! you wretch! You are jealous of her! You have got a judgment against her husband! Sénécal is already mixed up in your affairs. He detests Arnoux; and your two hatreds have entered into a combination with one another. I saw how delighted he was when you won that action of yours about the kaolin shares. Are you going to deny this?”
“I give you my word—”
“Oh, I know what that’s worth—your word!”
And Frederick reminded her of her lovers, giving their names and circumstantial details. Rosanette drew back, all the colour fading from her face.
“You are astonished at this. You thought I was blind because I shut my eyes. Now I have had enough of it. We do not die through the treacheries of a woman of your sort. When they become too monstrous we get out of the way. To inflict punishment on account of them would be only to degrade oneself.”
She twisted her arms about.
“My God, who can it be that has changed him?”
“Nobody but yourself.”
“And all this for Madame Arnoux!” exclaimed Rosanette, weeping.
He replied coldly:
“I have never loved any woman but her!”
At this insult her tears ceased to flow.
“That shows your good taste! A woman of mature years, with a complexion like liquorice, a thick waist, big eyes like the ventholes of a cellar, and just as empty! As you like her so much, go and join her!”
“This is just what I expected. Thank you!”
Rosanette remained motionless, stupefied by this extraordinary behaviour.
She even allowed the door to be shut; then, with a bound, she pulled him back into the anteroom, and flinging her arms around him:
“Why, you are mad! you are mad! this is absurd! I love you!” Then she changed her tone to one of entreaty:
“Good heavens! for the sake of our dead infant!”
“Confess that it was you who did this trick!” said Frederick.
She still protested that she was innocent.
“You will not acknowledge it?”
“No!”
“Well, then, farewell! and forever!”
“Listen to me!”
Frederick turned round:
“If you understood me better, you would know that my
