Baron Trigault's Vengeance (eBook)

Emile Gaboriau (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018
838 Seiten
Seltzer Books (Verlag)
978-1-4553-5215-9 (ISBN)

Infos

Classic French mystery, in English translation. Sequel to The Count's Millions. According to Wikipedia: 'Émile Gaboriau (November 9, 1832 - September 28, 1873) was a French writer, novelist, journalist, and a pioneer of detective fiction... after publishing some novels and miscellaneous writings, found his real gift in L'Affaire Lerouge (1866). The book, which was Gaboriau's first detective novel, introduced an amateur detective. It also introduced a young police officer named Monsieur Lecoq, who was the hero in three of Gaboriau's later detective novels. The character of Lecoq was based on a real-life thief turned police officer, Eugène François Vidocq (1775-1857).' One of Robert Louis Stevenson's favorite authors.

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Classic French mystery, in English translation. Sequel to The Count's Millions. According to Wikipedia: "e;Emile Gaboriau (November 9, 1832 - September 28, 1873) was a French writer, novelist, journalist, and a pioneer of detective fiction... after publishing some novels and miscellaneous writings, found his real gift in L'Affaire Lerouge (1866). The book, which was Gaboriau's first detective novel, introduced an amateur detective. It also introduced a young police officer named Monsieur Lecoq, who was the hero in three of Gaboriau's later detective novels. The character of Lecoq was based on a real-life thief turned police officer, Eugene Francois Vidocq (1775-1857)."e; One of Robert Louis Stevenson's favorite authors.

Textauszug

CHAPTER 2

 

 The sumptuous interior of the Trigault mansion was on a par with its external magnificence.  Even the entrance bespoke the lavish millionaire, eager to conquer difficulties, jealous of achieving the impossible, and never haggling when his fancies were concerned.  The spacious hall, paved with costly mosaics, had been transformed into a conservatory full of flowers, which were renewed every morning.  Rare plants climbed the walls up gilded trellis work, or hung from the ceiling in vases of rare old china, while from among the depths of verdure peered forth exquisite statues, the work of sculptors of renown.  On a rustic bench sat a couple of tall footmen, as bright in their gorgeous liveries as gold coins fresh from the mint; still, despite their splendor, they were stretching and yawning to such a degree, that it seemed as if they would ultimately dislocate their jaws and arms.

 

"Tell me," inquired the servant who was escorting Pascal, "can any one speak to the baron?"

 

"Why?"

 

"This gentleman has something to say to him."

 

The two valets eyed the unknown visitor, plainly considering him to be one of those persons who have no existence for the menials of fashionable establishments, and finally burst into a hearty laugh.  "Upon my word!" exclaimed the eldest, "he's just in time.  Announce him, and madame will be greatly obliged to you.  She and monsieur have been quarrelling for a good half-hour.  And, heavenly powers, isn't he tantalizing!"

 

The most intense curiosity gleamed in the eyes of Pascal's conductor, and with an airy of secrecy, he asked: "What is the cause of the rumpus? That Fernand, no doubt--or some one else?"

 

"No; this morning it's about M. Van Klopen."

 

"Madame's dressmaker?"

 

"The same.  Monsieur and madame were breakfasting together--a most unusual thing--when M. Van Klopen made his appearance.  I thought to myself, when I admitted him: 'Look out for storms!' I scented one in the air, and in fact the dressmaker hadn't been in the room five minutes before we heard the baron's voice rising higher and higher.  I said to myself: 'Whew! the mantua-maker is presenting his bill!' Madame cried and went on like mad; but, pshaw! when the master really begins, there's no one like him.  There isn't a cab- driver in Paris who's his equal for swearing."

 

"And M. Van Klopen?"

 

"Oh, he's used to such scenes! When gentlemen abuse him he does the same as dogs do when they come up out of the water; he just shakes his head and troubles himself no more about it.  He has decidedly the best of the row.  He has furnished the goods, and he'll have to be paid sooner or later----"

 

"What! hasn't he been paid then?"

 

"I don't know; he's still here."

 

A terrible crash of breaking china interrupted this edifying conversation.  "There!" exclaimed one of the footmen, "that's monsieur; he has smashed two or three hundred francs' worth of dishes.  He MUST be rich to pay such a price for his angry fits."

 

"Well," observed the other, "if I were in monsieur's place I should be angry too.  Would you let your wife have her dresses fitted on by a man? I says that it's indecent.  I'm only a servant, but----"

 

"Nonsense, it's the fashion.  Besides, monsieur does not care about that.  A man who----"

 

He stopped short; in fact, the others had motioned him to be silent.  The baron was surrounded by exceptional servants, and the presence of a stranger acted as a restraint upon them.  For this reason, one of them, after asking Pascal for his card, opened a door and ushered him into a small room, saying: "I will go and inform the baron.  Please wait here."

 

"Here," as he called it, was a sort of smoking-room hung with cashmere of fantastic design and gorgeous hues, and encircled by a low, cushioned divan, covered with the same material.  A profusion of rare and costly objects was to be seen on all sides, armor, statuary, pictures, and richly ornamented weapons.  But Pascal, already amazed by the conversation of the servants, did not think of examining these objects of virtu.  Through a partially open doorway, directly opposite the one he had entered by, came the sound of loud voices in excited conversation.  Baron Trigault, the baroness, and the famous Van Klopen were evidently in the adjoining room.  It was a woman, the baroness, who was speaking, and the quivering of her clear and somewhat shrill voice betrayed a violent irritation, which was only restrained with the greatest difficulty.  "It is hard for the wife of one of the richest men in Paris to see a bill for absolute necessities disputed in this style," she was saying.

 

A man's voice, with a strong Teutonic accent, the voice of Van Klopen, the Hollander, caught up the refrain.  "Yes, strict necessities, one can swear to that.  And if, before flying into a passion, Monsieur le Baron had taken the trouble to glance over my little bill, he would have seen----"

 

"No more! You bore me to death.  Besides I haven't time to listen to your nonsense; they are waiting for me to play a game of whist at the club."

 

This time it was the master of the house, Baron Trigault, who spoke, and Pascal recognized his voice instantly.

 

"If monsieur would only allow me to read the items.  It will take but a moment," rejoined Van Klopen.  And as if he had construed the oath that answered him as an exclamation of assent, he began: "In June, a Hungarian costume with jacket and sash, two train dresses with upper skirts and trimmings of lace, a Medicis polonaise, a jockey costume, a walking costume, a riding-habit, two morning-dresses, a Velleda costume, an evening dress."

 

"I was obliged to attend the races very frequently during the month of June," remarked the baroness.

 

But the illustrious adorner of female loveliness had already resumed his reading.  "In July we have: two morning-jackets, one promenade costume, one sailor suit, one Watteau shepherdess costume, one ordinary bathing-suit, with material for parasol and shoes to match, one Pompadour bathing-suit, one dressing-gown, one close-fitting Medicis mantle, two opera cloaks----"

 

"And I was certainly not the most elegantly attired of the ladies at Trouville, where I spent the month of July," interrupted the baroness.

 

"There are but few entries in the month of August," continued Van Klopen.  "We have: a morning-dress, a travelling-dress, with trimmings----" And he went on and on, gasping for breath, rattling off the ridiculous names which he gave to his "creations," and interrupted every now and then by the blow of a clinched fist on the table, or by a savage oath.

 

Pascal stood in the smoking-room, motionless with astonishment.  He did not know what surprised him the most, Van Klopen's impudence in daring to read such a bill, the foolishness of the woman who had ordered all these things, or the patience of the husband who was undoubtedly going to pay for them.  At last, after what seemed an interminable enumeration, Van Klopen exclaimed: "And that's all!"

 

"Yes, that's all," repeated the baroness, like an echo.

 

"That's all!" exclaimed the baron--"that's all! That is to say, in four months, at least seven hundred yards of silk, velvet, satin, and muslin, have been put on this woman's back!"

 

"The dresses of the present day require a great deal of material.  Monsieur le Baron will understand that flounces, puffs, and ruches----"

 

"Naturally! Total, twenty-seven thousand francs!"

 

"Excuse me! Twenty-seven thousand nine hundred and thirty-three francs, ninety centimes."

 

"Call it twenty-eight thousand francs then.  Ah, well, M. Van Klopen, if you are ever paid for this rubbish it won't be by me."

 

If Van Klopen was expecting this denouement, Pascal wasn't; in fact, he was so startled, that an exclamation escaped him which would have betrayed his presence under almost any other circumstances.  What amazed him most was the baron's perfect calmness, following, as it did, such a fit of furious passion, violent enough even to be heard in the vestibule.  "Either he has extraordinary control over himself or this scene conceals some mystery," thought Pascal.

 

Meanwhile, the man-milliner continued to urge his claims--but the baron, instead of replying, only whistled; and wounded by this breach of good manners, Van Klopen at last exclaimed: "I have had dealings with all the distinguished men in Europe, and never before did one of them refuse to pay me for his wife's toilettes."

 

"Very well--I don't pay for them--there's the difference.  Do you suppose that I, Baron Trigault, that I've worked like a negro for twenty years merely for the purpose of aiding your charming and  useful branch...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.3.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Anthologien
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Klassiker / Moderne Klassiker
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 1-4553-5215-2 / 1455352152
• ISBN-13: 978-1-4553-5215-9 / 9781455352159