M. de Tregars took him aside, and with an accent of mystery, "I am," he said, "a clerk with M. Drayton, the jeweler in the Rue de la Paix; and I come to ask you one of those little favors which tradespeople owe to each other."
A frown appeared on the fat man's countenance. He thought, perhaps, that M. Drayton's clerks were rather too stylish-looking; or else, perhaps, be felt apprehensive of one of those numerous petty swindles of which shopkeepers are constantly the victims.
"What is it?" said he. "Speak!"
"I am on my way," spoke M. de Tregars, "to deliver a ring which a lady purchased of us yesterday. She is not a regular customer, and has given us no references. If she doesn't pay, shall I leave the ring? My employer told me, 'Consult some prominent tradesman of the neighborhood, and follow his advice.'"
Prominent tradesman! Delicately tickled vanity was dancing in the grocer's eyes.
"What is the name of the lady?" he inquired.
"Mme. Zelie Cadelle."
The grocer burst out laughing.
"In that case, my boy," he said, tapping familiarly the shoulder of the so-called clerk, "whether she pays or not, you can deliver the article."
The familiarity was not, perhaps, very much to the taste of the Marquis de Tregars. No matter.
"She is rich, then, that lady?" he said.
"Personally no. But she is protected by an old fool, who allows her all her fancies."
"Indeed!"
"It is scandalous; and you cannot form an idea of the amount of money that is spent in that house. Horses, carriages, servants, dresses, balls, dinners, card-playing all night, a perpetual carnival: it must be ruinous!
M. de Tregars never winced.
"And the old man who pays?" he asked; "do you know him?"
"I have seen him pass,-a tall, lean, old fellow, who doesn't look very rich, either. But excuse me: here is a customer I must wait upon."
Having walked out into the street, "We must separate now," declared M. de Tregars to Maxence.
"What! You wish to"
"Go and wait for me in that caf yonder, at the corner of the street.
I must see that Zelie Cadelle and speak to her."
And without suffering an objection on the part of Maxence, he walked resolutely up to the cottage-gate, and rang vigorously.
At the sound of the bell, one of those servants stepped out into the yard, who seem manufactured on purpose, heaven knows where, for the special service of young ladies who keep house, - a tall rascal with sallow complexion and straight hair, a cynical eye, and a low, impudent smile.
"What do you wish, sir?" he inquired through the grating.
"That you should open the door, first," uttered M. de Tregars, with such a look and such an accent, that the other obeyed at once.
"And now," he added, "go and announce me to Mme. Zelie Cadelle."
"Madame is out," replied the valet.
And noticing that M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders, "Upon my word," he said, "she has gone to the bois with one of her friends. If you won't believe me, ask my comrades there."
And he pointed out two other servants of the same pattern as himself, who were silting at a table in the carriage-house, playing cards, and drinking.
But M. de Tregars did not mean to be imposed upon. He felt certain that the man was lying. Instead, therefore, of discussing, "I want you to take me to your mistress," be ordered, in a tone that admitted of no objection; "or else I'll find my way to her alone."
It was evident that he would do just as he said, by force if needs be. The valet saw this, and, after hesitating a moment longer, "Come along, then," he said, "since you insist so much. We'll talk to the chambermaid."
And, having led M. de Tregars into the vestibule, he called out, "Mam'selle Amanda!"
A woman at once made her appearance who was a worthy mate for the valet. She must have been about forty, and the most alarming duplicity could be read upon her features, deeply pitted by the small-pox. She wore a pretentious dress, an apron like a stage-servant, and a cap profusely decorated with flowers and ribbons.
"Here is a gentleman," said the valet, "who insists upon seeing madame. You fix it with him."
Better than her fellow servant, Mlle. Amanda could judge with whom she had to deal. A single glance at this obstinate visitor convinced her that he was not one who can be easily turned off.
Putting on, therefore, her pleasantest smile, thus displaying at the same time her decayed teeth, "The fact is that monsieur will very much disturb madame," she observed.
"I shall excuse myself."
"But I'll be scolded."
Instead of answering, M. de Tregars took a couple of twenty-franc-notes out of his pocket, and slipped them into her hand.
"Please follow me to the parlor, then," she said with a heavy sigh.
M. de Tregars did so, whilst observing everything around him with the attentive perspicacity of a deputy sheriff preparing to make out an inventory.
Being double, the house was much more spacious than could have been thought from the street, and arranged with that science of comfort which is the genius of modern architects.
The most lavish luxury was displayed on all sides; not that solid, quiet, and harmonious luxury which is the result of long years of opulence, but the coarse, loud, and superficial luxury of the parvenu, who is eager to enjoy quick, and to possess all that he has craved from others.
The vestibule was a folly, with its exotic plants climbing along crystal trellises, and its Sevres and China jardinieres filled with gigantic azaleas. And along the gilt railing of the stairs marble and bronze statuary was intermingled with masses of growing flowers.
"It must take twenty thousand francs a year to keep up this conservatory alone," thought M. de Tregars.
Meantime the old chambermaid opened a satinwood door with silver lock.
"That's the parlor," she said. "Take a seat whilst I go and tell madame."