“Have none of you,” de Paliseul continued, ignoring Maxim's remark, “noticed the striking resemblance between Madame de Corriero's chambermaid and Felicitas from the Rue Charles V?”
“What,” de Melreuse exclaimed. “She is the lady with whom we caught you cavorting on the huge, silk and satin-covered bed?”
“She is the very same.”
Exclamations of surprise, the wildest guesses, the vilest suppositions. The name of Julia de Corriero was on everybody's lips.
“And I would not be in the least surprised,” de Paliseul continued, “if that painter fellow who is always at her sister's home, that Michael Lompret, is my lucky successor.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Michael said as he suddenly stood towering over the astonished Count de Paliseul, “I just heard my name mentioned.
I neither liked the way it was spoken, nor the matter with which it was connected, and I demand satisfaction!”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Maxim de Berny tried his utmost to avoid the unavoidable.
“Sir, I beg you to stay out of this matter which only concerns me and the Count de Paliseul. I demanded satisfaction, and I wish you to name the time and place!”
“Nothing would be more pleasing to me, Mister Lompret, than to give you a taste of my sword. Tomorrow morning?”
That night, Michael did not go to the Rue Charles V, but to his own home. His heart was shattered. Doubt plagued his mind. Could it be true that de Paliseul had not been bragging? Could it be possible that the woman with whom he had lived in bliss and happiness for more than five years was in reality a common courtesan, as de Paliseul had said? Had the old General de Corriero been merely a father to her? His mind worked feverishly. The world was falling apart. Could it be that the Count Gaston Saski had been her one and only lover? After all, she was also known as the Viscountess Saniska! She had told him that she and her sister had been brought up by Aunt Briquart who was a Colonel's widow, and of simple means. Was Aunt Briquart truly a Colonel's widow, or was she an expert matchmaker who through certain liaisons had amassed a fortune? He now even began to doubt the innocent mother-son relationship between Julia and Pedro. After all, the miserable brat had tried to stick his little dagger in his back. He had never told Julia that he had guessed the truth, because it seemed painful to his beloved. Painful! Bah! He had been tricked for almost five years!
The next morning he went to Julia's home on the boulevard St. Michel. He explained to her that the party had given him a terrible headache. He decided not to tell her about the duel which would take place that morning. Under some pretext he left early, kissing her forehead tenderly. It was his farewell kiss.
“What's the matter, darling?” Julia asked anxiously.
“Nothing, dear,” he said, and turning to Dorothy he asked her if she would come home with him, because he had a present for Madame which he had forgotten to bring with him.
He handed her a precious jewel which he had brought for Julia and asked in passing, as if it was nothing of importance, what was behind that story of Dorothy's beautiful behind which she had shown to the members of the Club de Topinambours.
“Oh, that!” Dorothy laughed, and she told him the whole story.
There was no doubt. His whole world had fallen to pieces.
The next morning, his body was brought into his studio and laid upon the bed where he had tasted his first true happiness. His heart had been pierced by de Paliseul who had been very surprised by the fact that a man of Lompret's background defended himself so clumsily.
He was still alive when his friends put him down upon the bed where he and Julia had passed so many happy hours. Jonathan was beside himself. He did not even know Madame de Corriero's address.
And when Julia, informed by Florentine who had heard about the duel from Maxim, entered Michael's home, he had just breathed his last breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The sudden, premature death of Michael was a terrible blow for Julia. She had deeply loved him with every fiber of her being, and his parting almost killed her, too.
They had tried to hide the reason of the duel from her, but one of her vicious acquaintances-the moralist type that seems to grow like cancer in every society-had anonymously written her all the sordid details, including the fact that Michael had not even defended himself. She alone, the vituperative letter concluded, has been responsible for her lover's death.
“He must have cursed me upon his deathbed,” Julia said to Dorothy.
That, of course, had not been the case, but like all those who suffer, Julia found a certain comfort in wallowing in her guilt. Her health of body and mind suffered terribly; she did not even notice that her salon was almost empty on visiting days.
Dorothy and Florentine surrounded her with tender and loving care. The influence and the impeccable name of Count Maxim de Berny, who had come to the defense of Julia's honor wherever and whenever possible, made the rumors that spread through Paris slowly die down. De Paliseul was expelled from the Club de Topinambours because of behavior unworthy of a man of his standing, and finally, things returned to normal.
But Julia's future showed nothing but grayness and loneliness. The months of suffering, illness, and pain had taken her youthful beauty, and the sadness of her heart showed in her eyes.
Julia retired completely from society and bestowed all the love of her entire being upon Claire.
“In another year, I'll take her out of the boarding school,” she had said to her trusted maid, “and the girl will be a great comfort to me. She will ban the loneliness from my door step.”
And indeed, Claire, who had grown into a beautiful young woman, brought a ray of sunshine to Julia's heart. A few years went by and time, which heals all wounds, had its healing effect upon Julia. The smile returned to her lips and, though she often cried in silence, her beauty, more mature now, had returned. She was almost light-hearted when, two years after Michael's death, she decided to return to La Bidouze.
One afternoon when she was sitting before the window of one of the rooms overlooking the wide driveway toward the castle bridge, she noticed in the distance the white habit of a Dominican monk. Next to him walked a tall, dark young man. Coming closer, she noticed that the youngster was very good looking.
Dorothy announced the arrival of the venerable Father Martin and his pupil Don Pedro. The boy had received all the instructions which the Dominican College had to offer, and passed his exams with flying colors. The time had come according to the abbot, when he was to be returned to his Mama, as Pedro called Julia.
It had not been easy for him, because his free gypsy nature had been difficult to subdue. The boy had known a life free of all conventions, his body had reached early maturity, and at times the severity of his teachers had seemed almost unbearable. But whenever his school-work had become too boring, or his teachers too severe, Pedro had recalled the lovely body and features of his beautiful “Mama,” and told himself, “Just wait till I am big and grown-up… till I am somebody… she has promised me… she would be the first one…”
Julia barely remembered her rash promise. But for Pedro it had been the one and only motivation to complete his difficult, hard studies for all those years. Julia was very glad to see her boy again, and enjoyed him calling her Mama. She thanked the good father for all his trouble and told him that she intended to keep the boy at La Bidouze till the University would open at the end of the summer. The monk left La Bidouze castle, laden with gifts.
Julia gave Pedro everything he had ever dreamed of. His own apartment in the castle, complete with living room, bedroom, study and library to which he alone had the key. From Paris she ordered everything a young man of standing needs including beautiful books for his library. From her estates she gave him a good dog, a spirited horse, and a hunting rifle.