The Clique of Gold | Page 4

his eye. He took it up. It was the last will of the poor girl, and
ran thus:--
"Let no one be accused; I die voluntarily. I beg Mrs. Chevassat will
carry the two letters which I enclose to their addresses. She will be paid
whatever I may owe her. Henrietta."
There were the two letters. On the first he read,--
Count Ville-Handry, Rue de Varennest 115. And, on the other,--
M. Maxime de Brevan, 62 Rue Laffitte.
A sudden light seemed to brighten up the small yellowish eye of the
dealer in old clothes; a wicked smile played on his lips; and he uttered a
very peculiar, "Ah!"
But all this passed away in a moment.
His brow grew as dark as ever; and he looked around anxiously and
suspiciously to see if anybody had caught the impression produced
upon him by the letters.
No, nobody had noticed him, nobody was thinking of him; for
everybody was occupied with Miss Henrietta.
Thereupon he slipped the paper and the two letters into the vast pocket
of his huge frock-coat with a dexterity and a rapidity which would have
excited the envy of an accomplished pickpocket. It was high time; for
the women who were bending over the bed of the young girl were
exhibiting signs of intense excitement. One of them said she was sure
the body had trembled under her hand, and the others insisted upon it
that she was mistaken. The matter was soon to be decided, however.
After, perhaps, twenty seconds of unspeakable anguish, during which
all held their breath, and solemn stillness reigned in the room, a cry of
hope and joy broke forth suddenly.
"/She/ has trembled, she has moved!"
This time there was no doubt, no denial possible. The unfortunate girl
had certainly moved, very faintly and feebly; but still she had stirred.
A slight color returned to her pallid cheeks; her bosom rose painfully,
and sank again; her teeth, closely shut, opened; and with parted lips she
stretched forth her neck as if to draw in the fresh air instinctively.

"She is alive!" exclaimed the women, almost frightened, and as if they
had seen a miracle performed,--"she is alive!"
In an instant, M. Ravinet was by her side.
One of the women, the wife of the gentleman in the first story, held the
head of the girl on her arm, and the poor child looked around with that
blank, unmeaning eye which we see in mad-houses. They spoke to her;
but she did not answer; evidently she did not hear.
"Never mind!" said the merchant, "she is saved; and, /when/ the doctor
comes, he will have little else to do. But she must be attended to, the
poor child, and we cannot leave her here alone."
The bystanders knew very well what that meant; and yet hardly any one
ventured timidly to assent, and say, "Oh, of course!"
This reluctance did not deter the good man.
"We must put her to bed," he went on; "and, of course, she must have a
mattress, bedclothes and blankets. We want wood also (for it is terribly
cold here), and sugar for her tea, and a candle."
He did not mention all that was needed, but nearly so, and a great deal
too much for the people who stood by. As a proof of this, the wife of
the broker put grandly a five-franc piece on the mantlepiece, and
quietly slipped out. Some of the others followed her example; but they
left nothing. When Papa Ravinet had finished his little speech, there
was nobody left but the two ladies who lived on the first floor, and the
concierge and his wife. The two ladies, moreover, looked at each other
in great embarrassment, as if they did not know what their curiosity
might cost them. Had the shrewd man foreseen this noble abandonment
of the poor girl? One would have fancied so; for he smiled bitterly, and
said,--
"Excellent hearts--pshaw!"
Then, shrugging his shoulders, he added,--
"Luckily, I deal in all possible things. Wait a minute. I'll run down
stairs, and I'll be back in a moment with all that is needed. After that,
we shall see what can be done."
The face of the concierge's wife was a picture. Never in her life had she
been so much astonished.
"They have changed Papa Ravinet, or I am mad."
The fact is, that the man was not exactly considered a benevolent and
generous mortal. They told stories of him that would have made

Harpagon envious, and touched the heart of a constable.
Nevertheless, he re-appeared soon after, almost succumbing under the
weight of two excellent mattresses; and, when he came back a second
time, he brought much more than he had mentioned.
Miss Henrietta was breathing more freely, but