Читать книгу The Dark Road: further adventures of Chéri-Bibi - Gaston Leroux - Страница 5

Raoul had not known in that enchanted garden how to cull the flowers. It needs very little to transform paradise into a garden of suffering. At the dawn of life, as at the dawn of the world, it is enough for the gesture of a woman to bring about the catastrophe.

What acts of folly he had committed for Nina Noha, the capricious dancing-girl who scoffed at him and ruined him, tormented and drove him mad with jealousy, and forced him into the worst excesses of gambling!

Thus he had weakly allowed himself to find an excuse for his early excesses. Though the dancer was his first passion, she was not his first love. It was in her society that he strove to forget a woman, a young friend of his mother's, unhappily married to a man who loved her but whom she did not love. She soon came to her senses. . . . But for Raoul and this woman it had been a bitter experience, the secret of which now filled him, when he thought of it, with a feeling of pain and sorrow.

But he quickly forgot the first incident in his life when he was in the dressing-room at the theater, where Nina Noha every night made up her voluptuous beauty anew after she had finished her dances which, frenzied and languorous by turns, drew all Paris. He wanted to be the sole master of this public favorite. . . . Stupid pride! . . . Madness! . . . At the price of his inheritance he had purchased a few hours of pleasure, every one of which he had to fight for.

The pity of it! He called to mind a first performance one evening in a fashionable theater on the boulevard, in which Nina had made a huge hit. She promised to go to supper with him. To enter a smart restaurant at one o'clock in the morning with this woman, covered with jewels, on his arm, was for Raoul a dazzling joy for which, like a child, he was ready to give up everything that he possessed.

She was very amiable that evening and permitted him to make a parade of her. Raoul de Saint Dalmas in the eyes of everyone present was the fortunate friend of Nina Noha. What an unforgettable moment! He saw in imagination the warm room, resplendent with light and gaily bedecked women. He heard the Hungarian band and its wild music. He could have repeated the remarks of his friends who did homage to Nina. But Nina that evening gave no ear to them. Her smiles were reserved for him who had promised to give her next day his last twenty thousand francs.

Twenty thousand francs for a smile from Nina was a trifle. But to pay for it in a penal settlement was somewhat dear. . . . Open your eyes, Raoul, and look round you, and see the party which is present at your feast to-night. Here are faces which are somewhat different from the faces that you saw at those festal occasions on the boulevard.

With what looks of deadly hatred the convicts bend over their unhappy victim. The Nut does not say a word. He remains silent, this dog of a Parisian who was as strong as a Turk and for over ten years had not once condescended to come to blows with them. What were his thoughts under his closed eyes? Oh, they were capable of tearing open those eyes to discover what his dreams were about.

Poor, unfortunate Raoul, who in the gloom of prison could bring to life again the glitter of those Parisian feasts and the glowing memory of Nina Noha. . . . She was more cruel than his present taskmasters, was that beautiful dancer who gave him short shrift when he was ruined. Then his thoughts harked back to his sole refuge, his mother, who had received the prodigal son with joy.

"Now you must work," she said. He promised sincerely to atone for his sins. Mme. de Saint Dalmas took her son to an old friend of the family, Charles Raynaud, a banker in Paris, who agreed to find an opening for him in his business.

Raynaud was a very decent fellow whose own youthful days had not been without blemish, but that did not prevent him from settling down later on to work, and acquiring a considerable fortune. He himself determined to train Raoul in memory of his father who had been a loyal friend. He made him his private secretary and placed him in his own office. After a few months, Raoul, who had shown a great will to work and an uncommon intelligence, became Charles Raynaud's confidential man.

The unfortunate part was that Raoul had not ceased to think of Nina. He endeavored to renew his relations with her. She declined even to see him in her dressing-room at the theater. He greatly felt her contemptuous treatment of him. That was the origin of the tragedy that followed.

On the Saturday before the races at Dieppe, Raynaud came into his office with a friend at the moment when considerable sums of money were passing through Raoul's hands and he was preparing to hand them over. While he was counting bundles of ten thousand francs, Raynaud said to his friend:

"It's a certain tip. Volubilis is a twenty to one chance . . . a walk over."

Just then the banker was called away to the next room. His friend did not wait for him. Raoul's brain was on fire. He had arranged to go to Dieppe the following day, less to see his mother who was on a visit there, than because he knew that Nina would be at the races . . . Nina . . . Volubilis. . . . A twenty to one chance and he had but two louis in his pocket! His hands feverishly crumpled the bank-notes, one of which would suffice to bring him a small fortune.

Charles Raynaud was an intimate friend of the owner of Volubilis, and Raoul had no misgivings as to the value of the tip. He thought that he would be in a position to refund the money next day after the race. Nevertheless, to borrow money in that way, no matter what the amount might be, or the hope of returning it, was known and called by a definite name.

Raoul was about to unpin a bundle of ten thousand francs in order to borrow one of a thousand francs, one only, when Raynaud came into the office, and he scarcely had time to thrust the entire bundle into the inside pocket of his jacket. The banker hastily threw the various amounts which lay on the table into his safe, confident of Raoul's accuracy and honesty. And he departed. . . . Behind him stood a young man of a deathly pallor who made a gesture as if to detain him, but Raynaud did not turn round. Raoul de Saint-Dalmas had five hundred louis to put on Volubilis and was a thief.

* * * * *

The moment through which he lived next day when the bell in the reserved enclosure announced that the horses were off, remained impressed forever on his memory. What mingled feelings of torment and hope dwelled in his heart! In a few moments, by his watch, he would either be ruined forever or rich once more, and no one would suspect his shameful act of weakness and Nina Noha would smile on him again.

It was for her sake that he had lived through that frightful moment. He had spent the night wandering up and down, like a madman, under her window. But some compensation was perhaps in store for him. A minute would put an end to his doubts. Either it would be Nina or the Assize Court.

He had no wish to see the race. He paced up and down behind the grand stand. A cold sweat broke over his forehead. Had anyone met him, that person would have had some difficulty in recognizing him, so greatly had the madness of the moment distorted his features. His gloves were torn to shreds.

An immense silence hung over the race-course as often happens in critical moments when the fate of a great struggle hangs in suspense. . . . And then suddenly the air was rent with a thousand shouts: "Volubilis . . . Volubilis . . . Volubilis wins in a canter."

Raoul rushed to the grand stand, thrust aside the betters who loudly protested, and arrived in time to see Volubilis, who at one time looked like a winner, come in fourth. He descended the steps tottering like an old man. He wanted straightway to leave the race-course. The thought of committing suicide entered his mind. He met Nina surrounded by her friends: "Well, my little man, your tip has cost me fifty louis." He made no answer. He threw her a look of despair. He no longer loved her. The moral disaster which had overtaken him was so complete that nothing remained to him but a terrible contempt for her and himself.

"Forgive me, mother," he groaned. And it was for his mother's sake that he abandoned the idea of suicide.

He asked himself, on her account, if there was not something better and braver for him to do than to put a bullet in his brain. The instinct for good which still existed deep down within him, and which the disorders of his reckless youth could not wholly stifle, inspired him with a sense of duty. Next morning he went to the office as usual. He had made up his mind to confess everything to Raynaud.

The banker did not come in during the morning. Considerable sums of money were still passing through Raoul's hands. Not for a moment was he tempted to win back the stolen ten thousand francs by borrowing a further sum. The thought did not even occur to him. His first offense in this respect filled him with an unspeakable horror. He felt himself capable of starvation with millions in front of him.

He was the first to return to the office after lunch. Raynaud had not yet put in an appearance. Raoul's sufferings reached their culminating point. A senior clerk in the firm who had occasion to speak to him was struck by his pallor and air of abstraction. He did not seem to listen to what was said to him.

"Are you not feeling well?" he inquired.

Raoul made no answer to the question but asked:

"Is Monsieur Raynaud coming to-day?"

"Yes, but he will be late. He is attending the sale of the Queen of Carynthia's jewels."

Raynaud arrived at the office about six o'clock. He was not alone. Several friends accompanied him and were congratulating him on the purchase of a magnificent pearl necklace. Without noticing Raoul's agitation he showed him the necklace in its case. Raoul had already seen it, for Raynaud had been anxious to buy it and had taken him with him to examine it the valuer's office. He bent over the pearls, unable to utter a word. Raynaud imagined that he was purposely taking his time to inspect it because one of the pearls had a flaw in it.

"I don't understand why they left that pearl in a necklace like this," said Raynard. "I shall have it taken out. As it is, the necklace is dirt cheap at the price—a hundred and fifty thousand francs."

Raoul continued to gaze at the necklace so that Raynaud should not observe his agitation. He would remember that scene for the rest of his life.

"It's a clouded pearl but it may be possible to get it back to its former luster."

An argument ensued on the subject and lasted some time among the gentlemen who had come in with Raynaud. Then they took their departure and Raoul and Raynaud were left to themselves. Raoul confessed everything. While he was speaking the banker looked at him at first with an air of amazement and afterwards with threatening severity. In a trembling voice Raoul finished his story.

"It's not for myself. Monsieur, that I am pleading. It is that my mother should not be told anything. I hold myself at your disposal and you can do with me as you please. I am your property. I am willing to accept the lowest kind of work, and if I have to earn the money a penny at a time, I will pay back the ten thousand francs."

He ceased speaking. The banker maintained a silence, a dreadful and prolonged silence. Raoul thought that all was over with him. He took his revolver from his pocket.

Raynaud saw the movement and realized that Raoul was about to shoot himself. He clutched him by the arm, snatched the weapon away, and threw it on the desk.

"Wretched boy, what are you doing?"

Raoul sank to his knees and broke into a fit of sobbing. Raynaud helped him to rise.

"Calm yourself, your mother shall not be told anything."

The banker turned the key in the door which separated his office from the general offices of his company and came back to Raoul.

"You understand that the worst part of this terrible business is that you, who received an exceptionally good education, and whom I wish to regard in spite of all as an honest man at heart—your confession and your repentance show me that—were unable to resist so sordid a temptation. You are more to blame than anyone else would be in your place. . . . I will tell you what I have decided upon. You must leave Paris and France and all these Nina Nohas who have brought you to such a pass. You must go and build up a new career in America. You must sail by the mail boat which leaves Havre for New York to-morrow morning. I will tell your mother that I have sent you to America on urgent business of importance. You must catch the express train at eight o'clock to-night. You have no time to lose."

So saying, he opened his safe and took out two bundles of bank-notes, each of which contained ten thousand francs.

"Do the best you can for yourself with this money and become an honest man again. I don't want your thanks. I am doing this in remembrance of your father who rendered me many great services."

Distraught and overcome with gratitude, Raoul left the room with the twenty thousand francs. The banker himself opened the door of his private entrance which led direct through the courtyard into the street.

The safe remained open.

Scarcely a minute had elapsed after Raynaud's return to his office when the staff in the other part of the building heard the sounds of a great commotion—shouting, struggles and a revolver shot. They rushed to the private office. They had to break in the door. When they entered the room they found Raynaud lying dead on the floor in front of the safe with a bullet in his head.

The necklace, as well as the securities and bank-notes—everything of negotiable value was gone.

They looked about for Raoul. He was nowhere to be found. They called to mind his singular demeanor during the day. The police investigation, which was held that evening, showed that the revolver, which was still hot when it was discovered in the office, was bought by Raoul that very morning. They felt convinced that it was he who did the deed, nor did they doubt that he had escaped through the window, which was left open and looked out on to the roof of a small room, arranged corbel-wise, whence it was easy to reach, through another window, the staircase of the adjoining building.

Next morning Raoul was arrested at Havre at the moment when he was about to embark on the mail boat for New York.

It was in vain that he protested his innocence. His own counsel did not believe him. The evidence was too overwhelming. The sequel is known.