第117章

When I caught sight of myself in the glass, with my coat-collar torn, my face bruised, my cravat in rags, I shuddered as if I had seen the specter of another Andre Cornelis.The ignoble nature of this adventure filled me with disgust; but it was not a question of fine-gentleman fastidiousness.My enemy was coming to himself, Imust end this.I knew in my conscience I had done all that was possible to fulfill my vow in regard to my mother.The blame must fall upon destiny.the wretch had half-raised himself, and was looking at me; I bent over him, and put the barrel of my revolver within a hair's breadth of his temple.

"There is still time," I said."I give you five minutes to decide upon the bargain which I proposed to you just now; the letters, and one hundred thousand francs, with your liberty; if not, a bullet in your head.Choose.I wished to spare you on account of my mother;but I will not lose my vengeance both ways.I shall be arrested, your papers will be searched, the letters will be found, it will be known that I had a right to shoot you.My mother will go mad with grief; but I shall be avenged.I have spoken.You have five minutes, not one more."No doubt my face expressed invincible resolution.The assassin looked at that face, then at the clock.He tried to make a movement, but saw that my finger was about to press the trigger.

"I yield," he said.

I ordered him to rise, and he obeyed me.

"Where are the letters?"

"When you have them," he implored, with the terror of a trapped beast in his abject face, "you will let me go away?""I swear it," I answered; and, as I saw doubt and dread in his quailing eyes, I added, "by the memory of my father.Where are the letters?""There."

He pointed to a valise in a corner of the room.

"Here is the money."

I flung him the note-case which contained it.Is there a sort of moral magnetism in the tone of certain words and in certain expressions of countenance? Was it the nature of the oath which Ihad just taken, so deeply impressive at that moment, or had this man sufficient strength of mind to say to himself that his single chance of safety resided in belief in my good faith? However that may be, he did not hesitate for a moment; he opened the iron-bound valise, took out a yellow-leather box with a patent lock, and, having opened it, flung its contents--a large sealed envelope-to me, exactly as I had flung the banknotes to him.I, too, for my part, had not a moment's fear that he would produce a weapon from the valise and attack me while I was verifying the contents of the envelope.These consisted of three letters only; the two first bore the double stamp of Paris and New York, the third those of New York and Liverpool, and all three bore the January or February post-marks of the year 1864.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Not yet," I answered; "you must undertake to leave Paris this evening by the first train, without having seen your brother or written to him.""I promise; and then?"

"When was he to come back here to see you?"

"On Saturday," he answered, with a shrug of his shoulders."The bargain was concluded.He was determined to wait until the day came for me to set out for Havre before paying me the money, so that he might make quite sure I should not stay on in Paris.--The game is up," he added, "and now I wash my hands of it.""Edmond Termonde," said I, rising, but not loosing him from the hold of my eye, "remember that I have spared you; but you must not tempt me a second time by putting yourself in my way, or crossing the path of any whom I love."Then, with a threatening gesture, I quitted the room, leaving him seated at the table near the window.I had hardly reached the corridor when my nerves, which had been so strangely under my control during the struggle, failed me.My legs bent under me, and I feared I was about to fall.How was I to account for the disorder of my clothes? I made a great effort, concealed the torn ends of my cravat, turned up the collar of my coat to hide the condition of my shirt, and did my best to repair the damage that had been done to my hat.I then wiped my face with my handkerchief, and went downstairs with a slow and careless step.

The inspector of the first floor was, doubtless, occupied at the other end of the corridor; but two of the waiters saw me and were evidently surprised at my aspect.They were, however, too busy, luckily for me, to stop me and inquire into the cause of my discomposure.At last I reached the courtyard.If anybody who knew me had been there? I got into the first cab and gave my address.I had kept my word.I had conquered.

I am afraid to kill; but had I been born in Italy, in the fifteenth century, would I have hesitated to poison my father's murderer?

Would I have hesitated to shoot him, had I been born in Corsica fifty years ago? Am I then nothing but a civilized person, a wretched and impotent dreamer, who would fain act, but shrinks from soiling his hands in the action? I forced myself to contemplate the dilemma in which I stood, in its absolute, imperative, inevitable distinctness.I must either avenge my father by handing over his murderer to be dealt with by the law, since M.Massol had prudently fulfilled all the formalities necessary to bar the limitation, or I must be my own minister of justice.There was a third alternative; that I should spare the murderous wretch, allow him to live on in occupation of his victim's place in my mother's home, from which he had driven me; but at the thought of this my rage revived.The scruples of the civilized man did indeed give him pause; but that hesitation did not hinder the savage, who slumbers in us all, from feeling the appetite for retaliation which stirs the animal nature of man--all his flesh, and all his blood--as hunger and thirst stir it."Well, then," said I to myself, "Iwill assassinate my stepfather, since that is the right word.Was he afraid to assassinate my father? He killed; he shall be killed.