"Twelve hundred francs for the watch and ring."This large amount produced such a sensation as to arrest all the conversation.All eyes were turned toward the millionnaire who was going to pocket such a fortune.The millionnaire made no response.
The same woman who had spoken before nudged his arm.
"That's for you," said she."Answer whether you will take it or not."I'll take it," cried Hector.
He was filled with a joy which made him forget the night's torture.
Twelve hundred francs! How many days it would last! Had he not heard there were clerks who hardly got that in a year?
Hector waited a long time, when one of the clerks, who was writing at a desk, called out:
"Whose are the twelve hundred francs?"
The count stepped forward.
"Mine," said he.
"Your name?"
Hector hesitated.He would never give his name aloud in such a place as this.He gave the first name that occurred to him.
"Durand."
"Where are your papers?"
"What papers?"
"A passport, a receipt for lodgings, a license to hunt - ""I haven't any."
"Go for them, or bring two well-known witnesses.""But - "
"There is no but.The next - "
Hector was provoked by the clerk's abrupt manner.
"Well, then," said he, "give me back the jewelry."The clerk looked at him jeeringly.
"Can't be done.No goods that are registered, can be returned without proof of rightful possession." So saying, he went on with his work."One French shawl, thirty-five francs, whose is it?"Hector meanwhile went out of the establishment.He had never suffered so much, had never imagined that one could suffer so much.
After this ray of hope, so abruptly put out, the clouds lowered over him thicker and more hopelessly.He was worse off than the shipwrecked sailor; the pawnbroker had taken his last resources.
All the romance with which he had invested the idea of his suicide now vanished, leaving bare the stern and ignoble reality.He must kill himself, not like the gay gamester who voluntarily leaves upon the roulette table the remains of his fortune, but like the Greek, who surprised and hunted, knows that every door will be shut upon him.His death would not be voluntary; he could neither hesitate nor choose the fatal hour; he must kill himself because he had not the means of living one day longer.
And life never before seemed to him so sweet a thing as now.He never felt so keenly the exuberance of his youth and strength.He suddenly discovered all about him a crowd of pleasures each more enviable than the others, which he had never tasted.He who flattered himself that he had squeezed life to press out its pleasures, had not really lived.He had had all that is to be bought or sold, nothing of what is given or achieved.He already not only regretted giving the ten thousand francs to Jenny, but the two hundred francs to the servants - nay the six sous given to the waiter at the restaurant, even the money he had spent on the bunch of violets.The bouquet still hung in his buttonhole, faded and shrivelled.What good did it do him? While the sous which he had paid for it - ! He did not think of his wasted millions, but could not drive away the thought of that wasted franc!
True, he might, if he chose, find plenty of money still, and easily.
He had only to return quietly to his house, to discharge the bailiffs, and to resume the possession of his remaining effects.But he would thus confront the world, and confess his terrors to have overcome him at the last moment; he would have to suffer glances more cruel than the pistol-ball.The world must not be deceived; when a man announces that he is going to kill himself - he must kill himself.
So Hector was going to die because he had said he would, because the newspapers had announced the fact.He confessed this to himself as he went along, and bitterly reproached himself.
He remembered a pretty spot in Viroflay forest, where he had once fought a duel; he would commit the deed there.He hastened toward it.The weather was fine and he met many groups of young people going into the country for a good time.Workmen were drinking and clinking their glasses under the trees along the river-bank.All seemed happy and contented, and their gayety seemed to insult Hector's wretchedness.He left the main road at the Sevres bridge, and descending the embankment reached the borders of the Seine.
