the nabob- 第62部分

〃/Ma　foi/；　so　much　the　worse！　Since　we　cannot　burn　them；　we　will　drown　them。　Hold　the　light；　Jenkins。〃

And　they　entered。

Where　were　they？　Saint…Simon　relating　the　downfall　of　one　of　those　sovereign　existences；　the　disarray　of　ceremonies；　of　dignities；　of　grandeurs；　caused　by　death　and　especially　by　sudden　death；　only　Saint…Simon　might　have　found　words　to　tell　you。　With　his　delicate；　carefully　kept　hands；　the　Marquis　de　Monpavon　did　the　pumping。　The　other　passed　to　him　the　letters　after　tearing　them　into　small　pieces；　packets　of　letters；　on　satin　paper；　tinted；　perfumed；　adorned　with　crests；　coats　of　arms；　small　flags　with　devices；　covered　with　handwritings；　fine；　hurried；　scrawling；　entwining；　persuasive；　and　all　those　flimsy　pages　went　whirling　one　over　the　other　in　eddying　streams　of　water　which　crumpled　them；　soiled　them；　washed　out　their　tender　links　before　allowing　them　to　disappear　with　a　gurgle　down　the　drain。

They　were　love…letters　and　of　every　kind；　from　the　note　of　the　adventuress；　〃/I　saw　you　pass　yesterday　in　the　Bois；　M。　le　Duc/；〃　to　the　aristocratic　reproaches　of　the　last　mistress　but　one；　and　the　complaints　of　ladies　deserted；　and　the　page；　still　fresh；　of　recent　confidences。　Monpavon　was　in　the　secret　of　all　these　mysteriesput　a　name　on　each　of　them：　〃That　is　Mme。　Moor。　Hallo！　Mme。　d'Athis！〃　A　confusion　of　coronets　and　initials；　of　caprices　and　old　habits；　sullied　by　the　promiscuity　of　this　moment；　all　engulfed　in　the　horrid　closet　by　the　light　of　a　lamp；　with　the　noise　of　an　intermittent　gush　of　water；　departing　into　oblivion　by　a　shameful　road。　Suddenly　Jenkins　paused　in　his　work　of　destruction。　Two　satin…gray　letters　trembled　as　he　held　them　in　his　fingers。

〃Who　is　that？〃　asked　Monpavon；　noticing　the　unfamiliar　handwriting　and　the　Irishman's　nervous　excitement。　〃Ah；　doctor；　if　you　want　to　read　them　all；　we　shall　never　have　finished。〃

Jenkins；　his　cheeks　flushed；　the　two　letters　in　his　hand；　was　consumed　by　a　desire　to　carry　them　away；　to　pore　over　them　at　his　ease；　to　martyrize　himself　with　delight　by　reading　them；　perhaps　also　to　forge　out　of　this　correspondence　a　weapon　for　himself　against　the　imprudent　woman　who　had　signed　her　name。　But　the　rigorous　correctness　of　the　marquis　made　him　afraid。　How　could　he　distract　his　attentionget　him　away？　The　opportunity　occurred　of　its　own　accord。　Among　the　letters；　a　tiny　page　written　in　a　senile　and　shaky　hand；　caught　the　attention　of　the　charlatan；　who　said　with　an　ingenuous　air：　〃Oh；　oh！　here　is　something　that　does　not　look　much　like　a　/billet…doux。　'Mon　Duc；　to　the　rescueI　am　sinking！　The　Court　of　Exchequer　has　once　more　stuck　its　nose　into　my　affairs。'/〃

〃What　are　you　reading　there？〃　exclaimed　Monpavon　abruptly；　snatching　the　letter　from　his　hands。　And　immediately；　thanks　to　Mora's　negligence　in　thus　allowing　such　private　letters　to　lie　about；　the　terrible　situation　in　which　he　would　be　left　by　the　death　of　his　protector　returned　to　his　mind。　In　his　grief；　he　had　not　yet　given　it　a　thought。　He　told　himself　that　in　the　midst　of　all　his　preparations　for　his　departure；　the　duke　might　quite　possibly　overlook　him；　and；　leaving　Jenkins　to　complete　the　drowning　of　Don　Juan's　casket　by　himself；　he　returned　precipitately　in　the　direction　of　the　bed…　chamber。　Just　as　he　was　on　the　point　of　entering；　the　sound　of　a　discussion　held　him　back　behind　the　lowered　door…curtain。　It　was　Louis's　voice；　tearful　like　that　of　a　beggar　in　a　church…porch；　trying　to　move　the　duke　to　pity　for　his　distress；　and　asking　permission　to　take　certain　bundles　of　bank…notes　that　lay　in　a　drawer。　Oh；　how　hoarse；　utterly　wearied；　hardly　intelligible　the　answer；　in　which　there　could　be　detected　the　effort　of　the　sick　man　to　turn　over　in　his　bed；　to　bring　back　his　vision　from　a　far…off　distance　already　half　in　sight：

〃Yes；　yes；　take　them。　But　for　God's　sake；　let　me　sleeplet　me　sleep！〃

Drawers　opened；　closed　again；　a　short　and　panting　breath。　Monpavon　heard　no　more　of　what　was　going　on；　and　retraced　his　steps　without　entering。　The　ferocious　rapacity　of　his　servant　had　set　his　pride　upon　its　guard。　Anything　rather　than　degradation　to　such　a　point　as　that。

The　sleep　which　Mora　craved　for　so　insistentlythe　lethargy；　to　be　more　accuratelasted　a　whole　night；　and　through　the　next　morning　also；　with　uncertain　wakings　disturbed　by　terrible　sufferings　relieved　each　time　by　soporifics。　No　further　attempt　was　made　to　nurse　him　to　recovery；　they　tried　only　to　soothe　his　last　moments；　to　help　him　to　slip　painlessly　over　that　terrible　last　step。　His　eyes　had　opened　again　during　this　time；　but　were　already　dimmed；　fixed　in　the　void　on　floating　shadows；　vague　forms　like　those　a　diver　sees　quivering　in　the　uncertain　light　under　water。

In　the　afternoon　of　the　Thursday；　towards　three　o'clock；　he　regained　complete　consciousness；　and　recognising　Monpavon；　Cardailhac；　and　two　or　three　other　intimate　friends；　he　smiled　to　them；　and　betrayed　in　a　sentence　his　only　anxiety：

〃What　do　they　say　about　it　in　Paris？〃

They　said　many　things　about　it；　different　and　contradictory；　but　very　certainly　he　was　the　only　subject　of　conversation；　and　the　news　spread　through　the　town　since　the　morning；　that　Mora　was　at　his　last　breath；　agitated　the　streets；　the　drawing…rooms；　the　cafes；　the　workshops；　revived　the　question　of　the　political　situation　in　newspaper　offices　and　clubs；　even　in　porters'　lodges　and　on　the　tops　of　omnibuses；　in　every　place　where　the　unfolded　public　newspapers　commented　on　this　startling　rumour　of　the　day。

Mora　was　the　most　brilliant　incarnation　of　the　Empire。　One　sees　from　a　distance；　not　the　solid　or　insecure　base　of　the　building；　but　the　gilded　and　delicate　spire；　embellished；　carved　into　hollow　tracery；　added　for　the　satisfaction　of　the　age。　Mora　was　what　was　seen　in　France　and　throughout　Europe　of　the　Empire。　If　he　fell；　the　monument　would　find　itself　bereft　of　all　its　elegance；　split　as　by　some　long　and　irreparable　crack。　And　how　many　lives　would　be　dragged　down　by　that　sudden　fall；　how　many　fortunes　undermined　by　the　weakened　reverberations　of　the　catastrophe！　None　so　completely　as　that　of　the　big　man　sitting　motionless　downstairs；　on　the　bench　in　the　monkey…　house。

For　the　Nabob；　this　death　was　his　own　death；　the　ruin；　the　end　of　all　things。　He　was　so　deeply　conscious　of　it　that；　when　he　entered　the　house；　on　learning　the　hopeless　condition　of　the　duke；　no　expression　of　pity；　no　regrets　of　any　sort；　had　escaped　him；　only　the　ferocious　word　of　human　egoism；　〃I　am　ruined！〃　And　this　word　kept　recurring　to　his　lips；　he　repeated　it　mechanically　each　time　that　he　awoke　suddenly　afresh　to　all　the　horror　of　his　situation；　as　in　those　dangerous　mountain　storms；　when　a　sudden　flash　of　lightning　illumines　the　abyss　to　its　depths；　showing　the　wounding　spurs　and　the　bushes　on　its　sides；　ready　to　tear　and　scratch　the　man　who　should　fall。

The　rapid　clairvoyance　which　accompanies　cataclysms　spared　him　no　detail。　He　saw　the　invalidation　of　his　election　almost　certain；　now　that　Mora　would　no　longer　be　there　to　plead　his　cause；　then　the　consequences　of　the　defeatbankruptcy；　poverty；　and　still　worse；　for　when　these　incalculable　riches　collapse　they　always　bury　a　little　of　a　man's　honour　beneath　their　ruins。　But　how　many　briers；　how　many　thorns；　how　many　cruel　scratches　and　wounds　before　arriving　at　the　end！　In　a　week　there　would　be　the　Schwalbach　billsthat　is　to　say；　eight　hundred　thousand　francsto　pay；　indemnity　for　Moessard；　who　wanted　a　hundred　thousand　francs；　or　as　the　alternative　he　would　apply　for　the　permission　of　the　Chamber　to　prosecute　him　for　a　misdemeanour；　a　suit　still　more　sinister　instituted　by　the　families　of　two　little　martyrs　of　Bethlehem　against　the　founders　of　the　Society；　and；　on　top　of　all；　the　complications　of　the　Territorial　Bank。　There　was　one　solitary　hope；　the　mission　of　Paul　de　Gery　to　the　Bey；　but　so　vague；　so　chimerical；　so　remote！

〃Ah；　I　am　ruined！　I　am　ruined！〃

In　the　immense　entrance…hall　no　one　noticed　his　distress。　The　crowd　of　senators；　of　deputies；　of　councillors　of　state；　all　the　high　officials　of　the　administration；　came　and　went　around　him　without　seeing　him；　holding　mysterious　consultations　with　uneasy　importance　near　the　two　fireplaces　of　white　marble　which　faced　one　another。　So　many　ambitions　disappointed；　deceived；　hurled　down；　met　in　this　visit　/in　extremis/；　that　personal　anxieties　dominated　every　other　preoccupation。

The　faces；　strangely　enough；　expressed　neither　pity　nor　grief；　rather　a　sort　of　anger。　All　these　people　seemed　to　have　a　grudge　against　the　duke　for　dying；　as　though　he　had　deserted　them。　One　heard　remarks　of　this　kind：　〃It　is　not　surprising；　with　such　a　life　as　he　has　lived！〃　And　looking　out　of　the　high　windows；　these　gentlemen　pointed　out　to　each　other；　amid　the　going　and　coming　of　the　equipages　in　the　court…　yard；　the　drawing　up　of　some　little　brougham　from　within　which　a　well…　gloved　hand；　with　its　lace　sleeve　brushing　the　sash　of　the　door；　would　hold　out　a　card　with　a　corner　turned　back　to　the　footman。

From　time　to　time　one　of　the　/habitues/　of　the　palace；　one　of　those　whom　the　dying　man　had　summoned　to　his　bedside；　appeared　in　the　medley；　gave　an　order；　then　went　away；　leaving　the　scared　expression　of　his　face　reflected　on　twenty　others。　Jenkins　showed　himself　thus　for　a　moment；　with　his　cravat　untied；　his　waistcoat　unbuttoned；　his　cuffs　crumpled；　in　all　the　disorder　of　the　battle　in　which　he　was　engaged　upstairs　against　a　terrible　opponent。　He　was　instantly　surrounded；　besieged　with　questions。

Certainly　the　monkeys　flattening　their　short　noses　against　the　bars　of　their　cage；　excited　by　the　unaccustomed　tumult；　and　very　attentive　to　all　that　passed　about　them　as　though　they　were　occupied　in　making　a　methodical　study　of　human　hypocrisy；　had　a　magnificent　model　in　the　Irish　physician。　His　grief　was　superb；　a　splendid　grief；　masculine　and　strong；　which　compressed　his　lips　and　made　him　pant。

〃The　agony　has　begun；〃　he　said　mournfully。　〃It　is　only　a　matter　of　hours。〃

And　as　Jansoulet　came　towards　him；　he　said　to　him　emphatically：

〃Ah；　my　friend；　what　a　man！　What　courage！　He　has　forgotten　nobody。　Only　just　now　he　was　speaking　to　me　of　you。〃

〃Really？〃

〃　'The　poor　Nabob；'　said　he；　'how　does　the　affair　of　his　election