“This is rather too much, and the fellow shall
find out what going out of the window means, if he
will not leave by the door.” But in the
ante-room he found himself face to face with a very
cool, polite, impassive gentleman, who said very quietly
to him:
“You are Count Robert de Bordenave, I believe.
Monsieur?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“And the lease that you signed at the lawyer’s,
Monsieur Albin Calvert, in the Rue du Faubourg-Poissonniere,
is in your name, I believe?”
“Certainly, Monsieur.”
“Then I regret extremely to have to tell you
that if you are not in a position to pay the various
accounts which different people have intrusted to
me for collection here, I shall be obliged to seize
all the furniture, pictures, plate, clothes etc.,
which are here, in the presence of two witnesses who
are waiting for me downstairs in the street.”
“I suppose this is some joke, Monsieur?”
“It would be a very poor joke, Monsieur le Comte,
and one which I should certainly not allow myself
towards you!”
The situation was absolutely critical and ridiculous,
the more so, that in the dining-room the women who
were slightly elevated, were tapping the wine
glasses with their spoons, and calling for him.
What could he do except to explain his misadventure
to Quillanet, who became sobered immediately, and
rather than see his shrine of love violated, his secret
sin disclosed and his pictures, ornaments and furniture
sold, gave a check in due form for the claim there
and then, though with a very wry face. And in
spite of this, some people will deny that men who are
utterly cleared out, often have a stroke of luck.
It was a large, upholstered house, with long white
terraces shaded by vines, from which one could see
the sea. Large pines stretched a dark dome over
the sacked facade, and there was a look of neglect,
of want and wretchedness about it all, such as irreparable
losses, departures to other countries, and death leave
behind them.
The interior wore a strange look, with half unpacked
boxes serving for wardrobes, piles of band boxes,
and for seats there was an array of worm-eaten armchairs,
into which bits of velvet and silk, which had been
cut from old dresses, had been festooned anyhow, and
along the walls there were rows of rusty nails which
made one think of old portraits and of pictures full
of associations, which had one by one been bought for
a low price by some second-hand furniture broker.
The rooms were in disorder and furnished no matter
how, while velvets were hanging from the ceilings
and in the corners, and seemed to show that as the
servants were no longer paid except by hopes, they
no longer did more than give them an accidental, careless
touch with the broom occasionally. The drawing-room,
which was extremely large, was full of useless knick-knacks,
rubbish which is put up for sale at stalls at watering
places, daubs, they could not be called paintings of
portraits and of flowers, and an old piano with yellow
keys.
