The Two Brothers

“Eh! what do I care for Philippe?” cried the old man, whom Max was watching. “Where is Flore? how can we find out where she is?”

“Philippe, whose advice you follow, will help you,” said Max coldly.

“Philippe?” said the old man, “what has he to do with the poor child? There is no one but you, my good Max, who can find Flore. She will follow you – you could bring her back to me – ”

“I don’t wish to oppose Monsieur Bridau,” observed Max.

“As for that,” cried Rouget, “if that hinders you, he told me he meant to kill you.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Gilet, laughing, “we will see about it!”

“My friend,” said the old man, “find Flore, and I will do all she wants of me.”

“Some one must have seen her as she passed through the town,” said Maxence to Kouski. “Serve dinner; put everything on the table, and then go and make inquiries from place to place. Let us know, by dessert, which road Mademoiselle Brazier has taken.”

This order quieted for a time the poor creature, who was moaning like a child that has lost its nurse. At this moment Rouget, who hated Max, thought his tormentor an angel. A passion like that of this miserable old man for Flore is astonishingly like the emotions of childhood. At six o’clock, the Pole, who had merely taken a walk, returned to announce that Flore had driven towards Vatan.

“Madame is going back to her own people, that’s plain,” said Kouski.

“Would you like to go to Vatan to-night?” said Max. “The road is bad, but Kouski knows how to drive, and you’ll make your peace better to-night than to-morrow morning.”

“Let us go!” cried Rouget.

“Put the horse in quietly,” said Max to Kouski; “manage, if you can, that the town shall not know of this nonsense, for Monsieur Rouget’s sake. Saddle my horse,” he added in a whisper. “I will ride on ahead of you.”

Monsieur Hochon had already notified Philippe of Flore’s departure; and the colonel rose from Monsieur Mignonnet’s dinner-table to rush to the place Saint-Jean; for he at once guessed the meaning of this clever strategy. When Philippe presented himself at his uncle’s house, Kouski answered through a window that Monsieur Rouget was unable to see any one.

“Fario,” said Philippe to the Spaniard, who was stationed in the Grande-Narette, “go and tell Benjamin to mount his horse; it is all-important that I shall know what Gilet does with my uncle.”

“They are now putting the horse into the caleche,” said Fario, who had been watching the Rouget stable.

“If they go towards Vatan,” answered Philippe, “get me another horse, and come yourself with Benjamin to Monsieur Mignonnet’s.”

“What do you mean to do?” asked Monsieur Hochon, who had come out of his own house when he saw Philippe and Fario standing together.

“The genius of a general, my dear Monsieur Hochon,” said Philippe, “consists not only in carefully observing the enemy’s movements, but also in guessing his intentions from those movements, and in modifying his own plan whenever the enemy interferes with it by some unexpected action. Now, if my uncle and Max drive out together, they are going to Vatan; Maxence will have promised to reconcile him with Flore, who ‘fugit ad salices,’ – the manoeuvre is General Virgil’s. If that’s the line they take, I don’t yet know what I shall do; I shall have some hours to think it over, for my uncle can’t sign a power of attorney at ten o’clock at night; the notaries will all be in bed. If, as I rather fancy, Max goes on in advance of my uncle to teach Flore her lesson, – which seems necessary and probable, – the rogue is lost! you will see the sort of revenge we old soldiers take in a game of this kind. Now, as I need a helper for this last stroke, I must go back to Mignonnet’s and make an arrangement with my friend Carpentier.”

Shaking hands with Monsieur Hochon, Philippe went off down the Petite-Narette to Mignonnet’s house. Ten minutes later, Monsieur Hochon saw Max ride off at a quick trot; and the old miser’s curiosity was so powerfully excited that he remained standing at his window, eagerly expecting to hear the wheels of the old demi-fortune, which was not long in coming. Jean-Jacques’s impatience made him follow Max within twenty minutes. Kouski, no doubt under orders from his master, walked the horse through the town.

“If they get to Paris, all is lost,” thought Monsieur Hochon.

At this moment, a lad from the faubourg de Rome came to the Hochon house with a letter for Baruch. The two grandsons, much subdued by the events of the morning, had kept their rooms of their own accord during the day. Thinking over their prospects, they saw plainly that they had better be cautious with their grandparents. Baruch knew very well the influence which his grandfather Hochon exerted over his grandfather and grandmother Borniche: Monsieur Hochon would not hesitate to get their property for Adolphine if his conduct were such as to make them pin their hopes on the grand marriage with which his grandfather had threatened him that morning. Being richer than Francois, Baruch had the most to lose; he therefore counselled an absolute surrender, with no other condition than the payment of their debt to Max. As for Francois, his future was entirely in the hands of his grandfather; he had no expectations except from him, and by the guardianship account, he was now his debtor. The two young men accordingly gave solemn promises of amendment, prompted by their imperilled interests, and by the hope Madame Hochon held out, that the debt to Max should be paid.

“You have done very wrong,” she said to them; “repair it by future good conduct, and Monsieur Hochon will forget it.”

So, when Francois had read the letter which had been brought for Baruch, over the latter’s shoulder, he whispered in his ear, “Ask grandpapa’s advice.”

“Read this,” said Baruch, taking the letter to old Hochon.

“Read it to me yourself; I haven’t my spectacles.”

My dear Friend, – I hope you will not hesitate, under the serious circumstances in which I find myself, to do me the service of receiving a power of attorney from Monsieur Rouget. Be at Vatan to-morrow morning at nine o’clock. I shall probably send you to Paris, but don’t be uneasy; I will furnish you with money for the journey, and join you there immediately. I am almost sure I shall be obliged to leave Issoudun, December third.

Adieu. I count on your friendship; rely on that of your friend,

Maxence

“God be praised!” exclaimed Monsieur Hochon; “the property of that old idiot is saved from the claws of the devil.”

“It will be if you say so,” said Madame Hochon; “and I thank God, – who has no doubt heard my prayers. The prosperity of the wicked is always fleeting.”

“You must go to Vatan, and accept the power of attorney from Monsieur Rouget,” said the old man to Baruch. “Their object is to get fifty thousand francs a year transferred to Mademoiselle Brazier. They will send you to Paris, and you must seem to go; but you are to stop at Orleans, and wait there till you hear from me. Let no one – not a soul – know where you lodge; go to the first inn you come to in the faubourg Bannier, no matter if it is only a post-house – ”

“Look here!” cried Francois, who had rushed to the window at the sudden noise of wheels in the Grande-Narette. “Here’s something new! – Pere Rouget and Colonel Bridau coming back together in the caleche, Benjamin and Captain Carpentier following on horseback!”

“I’ll go over,” cried Monsieur Hochon, whose curiosity carried the day over every other feeling.

Monsieur Hochon found old Rouget in his bedroom, writing the following letter at his nephew’s dictation:

Mademoiselle, – If you do not start to return here the moment you receive this letter, your conduct will show such ingratitude for all my goodness that I shall revoke the will I have made in your favor, and give my property to my nephew Philippe. You will understand that Monsieur Gilet can no longer be my guest after staying with you at Vatan. I send this letter by Captain Carpentier, who will put it into your own hands. I hope you will listen to his advice; he will speak to you with authority from me.

Your affectionate

J. – J. Rouget.

“Captain Carpentier and I MET my uncle, who was so foolish as to follow Mademoiselle Brazier and Monsieur Gilet to Vatan,” said Philippe, with sarcastic emphasis, to Monsieur Hochon. “I have made my uncle see that he was running his head into a noose; for that girl will abandon him the moment she gets him to sign a power of attorney, by which they mean to obtain the income of his money in the Funds. That letter will bring her back under his roof, the handsome runaway! this very night, or I’m mistaken. I promise to make her as pliable as a bit of whalebone for the rest of her days, if my uncle allows me to take Maxence Gilet’s place; which, in my opinion, he ought never to have had in the first place. Am I not right? – and yet here’s my uncle bemoaning himself!”

“Neighbor,” said Monsieur Hochon, “you have taken the best means to get peace in your household. Destroy your will, and Flore will be once more what she used to be in the early days.”

“No, she will never forgive me for what I have made her suffer,” whimpered the old man; “she will no longer love me.”

“She shall love you, and closely too; I’ll take care of that,” said Philippe.

“Come, open your eyes!” exclaimed Monsieur Hochon. “They mean to rob you and abandon you.”

“Oh! I was sure of it!” cried the poor imbecile.

“See, here is a letter Maxence has written to my grandson Borniche,” said old Hochon. “Read it.”

“What infamy!” exclaimed Carpentier, as he listened to the letter, which Rouget read aloud, weeping.

“Is that plain enough, uncle?” demanded Philippe. “Hold that hussy by her interests and she’ll adore you as you deserve.”

“She loves Maxence too well; she will leave me,” cried the frightened old man.

“But, uncle, Maxence or I, – one or the other of us – won’t leave our footsteps in the dust of Issoudun three days hence.”

“Well then go, Monsieur Carpentier,” said Rouget; “if you promise me to bring her back, go! You are a good man; say to her in my name all you think you ought to say.”