eyes at this simple question,--"nothing, only I want it." Julie made
a pretence to feel for the key. "I must have left it in my room,"
she said. And she went out, but instead of going to her apartment she
hastened to consult Emmanuel. "Do not give this key to your father,"
said he, "and to-morrow morning, if possible, do not quit him for a
moment." She questioned Emmanuel, but he knew nothing, or would not say
what he knew. During the night, between the 4th and 5th of September,
Madame Morrel remained listening for every sound, and, until three
o'clock in the morning, she heard her husband pacing the room in great
agitation. It was three o'clock when he threw himself on the bed.
The mother and daughter passed the night together. They had expected
Maximilian since the previous evening. At eight o'clock in the morning
Morrel entered their chamber. He was calm; but the agitation of the
night was legible in his pale and careworn visage. They did not dare
to ask him how he had slept. Morrel was kinder to his wife, more
affectionate to his daughter, than he had ever been. He could not cease
gazing at and kissing the sweet girl. Julie, mindful of Emmanuel's
request, was following her father when he quitted the room, but he said
to her quickly,--"Remain with your mother, dearest." Julie wished to
accompany him. "I wish you to do so," said he.
This was the first time Morrel had ever so spoken, but he said it in
a tone of paternal kindness, and Julie did not dare to disobey. She
remained at the same spot standing mute and motionless. An instant
afterwards the door opened, she felt two arms encircle her, and a mouth
pressed her forehead. She looked up and uttered an exclamation of joy.
"Maximilian, my dearest brother!" she cried. At these words Madame
Morrel rose, and threw herself into her son's arms. "Mother," said the
young man, looking alternately at Madame Morrel and her daughter, "what
has occurred--what has happened? Your letter has frightened me, and I
have come hither with all speed."
"Julie," said Madame Morrel, making a sign to the young man, "go and
tell your father that Maximilian has just arrived." The young lady
rushed out of the apartment, but on the first step of the staircase she
found a man holding a letter in his hand.
"Are you not Mademoiselle Julie Morrel?" inquired the man, with a strong
Italian accent.
"Yes, sir," replied Julie with hesitation; "what is your pleasure? I do
not know you."
"Read this letter," he said, handing it to her. Julie hesitated. "It
concerns the best interests of your father," said the messenger.
The young girl hastily took the letter from him. She opened it quickly
and read:--
"Go this moment to the Allees de Meillan, enter the house No. 15,
ask the porter for the key of the room on the fifth floor, enter the
apartment, take from the corner of the mantelpiece a purse netted in red
silk, and give it to your father. It is important that he should receive
it before eleven o'clock. You promised to obey me implicitly. Remember
your oath.
"Sinbad the Sailor."
The young girl uttered a joyful cry, raised her eyes, looked round to
question the messenger, but he had disappeared. She cast her eyes
again over the note to peruse it a second time, and saw there was a
postscript. She read:--
"It is important that you should fulfil this mission in person and
alone. If you go accompanied by any other person, or should any one else
go in your place, the porter will reply that he does not know anything
about it."
This postscript decreased greatly the young girl's happiness. Was there
nothing to fear? was there not some snare laid for her? Her innocence
had kept her in ignorance of the dangers that might assail a young girl
of her age. But there is no need to know danger in order to fear it;
indeed, it may be observed, that it is usually unknown perils that
inspire the greatest terror.
Julie hesitated, and resolved to take counsel. Yet, through a singular
impulse, it was neither to her mother nor her brother that she applied,
but to Emmanuel. She hastened down and told him what had occurred on the
day when the agent of Thomson & French had come to her father's, related
the scene on the staircase, repeated the promise she had made, and
showed him the letter. "You must go, then, mademoiselle," said Emmanuel.
"Go there?" murmured Julie.
"Yes; I will accompany you."
"But did you not read that I must be alone?" said Julie.
"And you shall be alone," replied the young man. "I will await you at
the corner of the Rue de Musee, and if you are so long absent as to make
me uneasy, I will hasten to rejoin you, and woe to him of whom you shall
have cause to complain to me!"
"Then, Emmanuel?" said the young girl with hesitation, "it is your
opinion that I should obey this invitation?"
"Yes. Did not the messenger say your father's safety depended upon it?"
"But what danger threatens him, then, Emmanuel?" she asked.
Emmanuel hesitated a moment, but his desire to make Julie decide
immediately made him reply.
"Listen," he said; "to-day is the 5th of September, is it not?"
"Yes."
"To-day, then, at eleven o'clock, your father has nearly three hundred
thousand francs to pay?"
"Yes, we know that."
"Well, then," continued Emmanuel, "we have not fifteen thousand francs
in the house."
"What will happen then?"
"Why, if to-day before eleven o'clock your father has not found someone
who will come to his aid, he will be compelled at twelve o'clock to
declare himself a bankrupt."
"Oh, come, then, come!" cried she, hastening away with the young man.
During this time, Madame Morrel had told her son everything. The young
man knew quite well that, after the succession of misfortunes which
had befallen his father, great changes had taken place in the style of
living and housekeeping; but he did not know that matters had reached
such a point. He was thunderstruck. Then, rushing hastily out of the
apartment, he ran up-stairs, expecting to find his father in his study,
but he rapped there in vain.
While he was yet at the door of the study he heard the bedroom door
open, turned, and saw his father. Instead of going direct to his study,
M. Morrel had returned to his bed-chamber, which he was only this moment
quitting. Morrel uttered a cry of surprise at the sight of his son,
of whose arrival he was ignorant. He remained motionless on the spot,
pressing with his left hand something he had concealed under his coat.
Maximilian sprang down the staircase, and threw his arms round his
father's neck; but suddenly he recoiled, and placed his right hand on
Morrel's breast. "Father," he exclaimed, turning pale as death, "what
are you going to do with that brace of pistols under your coat?"
"Oh, this is what I feared!" said Morrel.
"Father, father, in heaven's name," exclaimed the young man, "what are
these weapons for?"
"Maximilian," replied Morrel, looking fixedly at his son, "you are a
man, and a man of honor. Come, and I will explain to you."
And with a firm step Morrel went up to his study, while Maximilian
followed him, trembling as he went. Morrel opened the door, and closed
it behind his son; then, crossing the anteroom, went to his desk on
which he placed the pistols, and pointed with his finger to an open
ledger. In this ledger was made out an exact balance-sheet of his
affair's. Morrel had to pay, within half an hour, 287,500 francs. All he
possessed was 15,257 francs. "Read!" said Morrel.
The young man was overwhelmed as he read. Morrel said not a word. What
could he say? What need he add to such a desperate proof in figures?"
And have you done all that is possible, father, to meet this disastrous
result?" asked the young man, after a moment's pause. "I have," replied
Morrel.
"You have no money coming in on which you can rely?"
"None."
"You have exhausted every resource?"
"All."
"And in half an hour," said Maximilian in a gloomy voice, "our name is
dishonored!"
"Blood washes out dishonor," said Morrel.
"You are right, father; I understand you." Then extending his hand
towards one of the pistols, he said, "There is one for you and one for
me--thanks!" Morrel caught his hand. "Your mother--your sister! Who will
support them?" A shudder ran through the young man's frame. "Father," he
said, "do you reflect that you are bidding me to live?"
"Yes, I do so bid you," answered Morrel, "it is your duty. You have a
calm, strong mind, Maximilian. Maximilian, you are no ordinary man. I
make no requests or commands; I only ask you to examine my position as
if it were your own, and then judge for yourself."
The young man reflected for a moment, then an expression of sublime
resignation appeared in his eyes, and with a slow and sad gesture he
took off his two epaulets, the insignia of his rank. "Be it so, then,
my father," he said, extending his hand to Morrel, "die in peace, my
father; I will live." Morrel was about to cast himself on his knees
before his son, but Maximilian caught him in his arms, and those two
noble hearts were pressed against each other for a moment. "You know it
is not my fault," said Morrel. Maximilian smiled. "I know, father, you
are the most honorable man I have ever known."
"Good, my son. And now there is no more to be said; go and rejoin your
mother and sister."
"My father," said the young man, bending his knee, "bless me!" Morrel
took the head of his son between his two hands, drew him forward, and
kissing his forehead several times said, "Oh, yes, yes, I bless you in
my own name, and in the name of three generations of irreproachable
men, who say through me, 'The edifice which misfortune has destroyed,
providence may build up again.' On seeing me die such a death, the most
inexorable will have pity on you. To you, perhaps, they will accord the
time they have refused to me. Then do your best to keep our name free
from dishonor. Go to work, labor, young man, struggle ardently and
courageously; live, yourself, your mother and sister, with the most
rigid economy, so that from day to day the property of those whom I
leave in your hands may augment and fructify. Reflect how glorious a day
it will be, how grand, how solemn, that day of complete restoration, on
which you will say in this very office, 'My father died because he could
not do what I have this day done; but he died calmly and peaceably,
because in dying he knew what I should do.'"
"My father, my father!" cried the young man, "why should you not live?"
"If I live, all would be changed; if I live, interest would be converted
into doubt, pity into hostility; if I live I am only a man who his
broken his word, failed in his engagements--in fact, only a bankrupt.
If, on the contrary, I die, remember, Maximilian, my corpse is that of
an honest but unfortunate man. Living, my best friends would avoid my
house; dead, all Marseilles will follow me in tears to my last home.
Living, you would feel shame at my name; dead, you may raise your head
and say, 'I am the son of him you killed, because, for the first time,
he has been compelled to break his word.'"
The young man uttered a groan, but appeared resigned.
"And now," said Morrel, "leave me alone, and endeavor to keep your
mother and sister away."
"Will you not see my sister once more?" asked Maximilian. A last
but final hope was concealed by the young man in the effect of this
interview, and therefore he had suggested it. Morrel shook his head. "I
saw her this morning, and bade her adieu."
"Have you no particular commands to leave with me, my father?" inquired
Maximilian in a faltering voice.
"Yes; my son, and a sacred command."
"Say it, my father."
"The house of Thomson & French is the only one who, from humanity, or,
it may be, selfishness--it is not for me to read men's hearts--has had
any pity for me. Its agent, who will in ten minutes present himself to
receive the amount of a bill of 287,500 francs, I will not say granted,
but offered me three months. Let this house be the first repaid, my son,
and respect this man."
"Father, I will," said Maximilian.
"And now, once more, adieu," said Morrel. "Go, leave me; I would be
alone. You will find my will in the secretary in my bedroom."
The young man remained standing and motionless, having but the force of
will and not the power of execution.
"Hear me, Maximilian," said his father. "Suppose I was a soldier like
you, and ordered to carry a certain redoubt, and you knew I must be
killed in the assault, would you not say to me, as you said just now,
'Go, father; for you are dishonored by delay, and death is preferable to
shame!'"
"Yes, yes," said the young man, "yes;" and once again embracing his
father with convulsive pressure, he said, "Be it so, my father."
And he rushed out of the study. When his son had left him, Morrel
remained an instant standing with his eyes fixed on the door; then
putting forth his arm, he pulled the bell. After a moment's interval,
Cocles appeared.
It was no longer the same man--the fearful revelations of the three last
days had crushed him. This thought--the house of Morrel is about to stop
payment--bent him to the earth more than twenty years would otherwise
