Castles in the Air | Page 7

approach. One thousand francs! Was I dreaming? Five thousand would
certainly be paid by the Government whose agent M. Charles Saurez
admittedly was for one glance at that secret treaty which would be so
prejudicial to their political interests; whilst M. de Marsan himself
would gladly pay another five thousand for the satisfaction of placing
the precious document intact before his powerful and irascible uncle.
Ten thousand francs! How few were possessed of such a sum in these
days! How much could be done with it! I would not give up business
altogether, of course, but with my new capital I would extend it and,
there was a certain little house, close to Chantilly, a house with a few

acres of kitchen garden and some fruit trees, the possession of which
would render me happier than any king. . . . I would marry! Oh, yes! I
would certainly marry--found a family. I was still young, my dear Sir,
and passably good looking. In fact there was a certain young widow,
comely and amiable, who lived not far from Passy, who had on more
than one occasion given me to understand that I was more than
passably good looking. I had always been susceptible where the fair sex
was concerned, and now . . . oh, now! I could pick and choose! The
comely widow had a small fortune of her own, and there were
others! . . .
Thus I dreamed on for the better part of an hour, until, soon after six
o'clock, there was a knock at the outer door and I heard Theodore's
shuffling footsteps crossing the small anteroom. There was some
muttered conversation, and presently my door was opened and
Theodore's ugly face was thrust into the room.
"A lady to see you," he said curtly.
Then, he dropped his voice, smacked his lips, and winked with one eye.
"Very pretty," he whispered, "but has a young man with her whom she
calls Arthur. Shall I send them in?"
I then and there made up my mind that I would get rid of Theodore
now that I could afford to get a proper servant. My business would in
future be greatly extended; it would become very important, and I was
beginning to detest Theodore. But I said "Show the lady in!" with
becoming dignity, and a few moments later a beautiful woman entered
my room.
I was vaguely conscious that a creature of my own sex walked in
behind her, but of him I took no notice. I rose to greet the lady and
invited her to sit down, but I had the annoyance of seeing the personage
whom deliberately she called "Arthur" coming familiarly forward and
leaning over the back of her chair.
I hated him. He was short and stout and florid, with an
impertinent-looking moustache, and hair that was very smooth and oily

save for two tight curls, which looked like the horns of a young goat,
on each side of the centre parting. I hated him cordially, and had to
control my feelings not to show him the contempt which I felt for his
fatuousness and his air of self-complacency. Fortunately the beautiful
being was the first to address me, and thus I was able to ignore the very
presence of the detestable man.
"You are M. Ratichon, I believe," she said in a voice that was dulcet
and adorably tremulous, like the voice of some sweet, shy young thing
in the presence of genius and power.
"Hector Ratichon," I replied calmly. "Entirely at your service,
Mademoiselle." Then I added, with gentle, encouraging kindliness,
"Mademoiselle . . . ?"
"My name is Geoffroy," she replied, "Madeleine Geoffroy."
She raised her eyes--such eyes, my dear Sir!--of a tender, luscious grey,
fringed with lashes and dewy with tears. I met her glance. Something in
my own eyes must have spoken with mute eloquence of my distress,
for she went on quickly and with a sweet smile. "And this," she said,
pointing to her companion, "is my brother, Arthur Geoffroy."
An exclamation of joyful surprise broke from my lips, and I beamed
and smiled on M. Arthur, begged him to be seated, which he refused,
and finally I myself sat down behind my desk. I now looked with
unmixed benevolence on both my clients, and then perceived that the
lady's exquisite face bore unmistakable signs of recent sorrow.
"And now, Mademoiselle," I said, as soon as I had taken up a position
indicative of attention and of encouragement, "will you deign to tell me
how I can have the honour to serve you?"
"Monsieur," she began in a voice that trembled with emotion, "I have
come to you in the midst of the greatest distress that any human being
has ever been called upon to bear.