Джозеф Конрад - Suspense

“My occupations kept me late to–night,” said the count. “The courier came in.”

He pointed with his finger to the Gazette lying on the floor, and Cosmo asked if there were any news.

“In the Gazette , no. At least nothing interesting. The world is full of vanities and scandals, rumours of conspiracies. Very poor stuff. I don’t know any of those people the papers mention every day. That’s more my wife’s affair. For years now she has spent about ten months of every year in Paris or near Paris. I am a provincial. My interests are in the orphanage I have founded in my native country. I am also building an asylum for … ”

He got up suddenly, approached the mantel–piece in three strides, and turned round exactly like a soldier in the ranks of a company changing front. He was wearing a blue coat cut away in front and having a long skirt, something recalling the cut of a uniform, though the material was fine and there was a good deal of gold lace about it, as also on his white satin waistcoat. Cosmo recalled the vague story he had heard about Count de Montevesso having served in more than one army before being given the rank of general by the King of Piedmont. The man had been drilled. Cosmo wondered whether he had ever been caned. He was a military adventurer of the commonest type. Some of them have been known to return with a fortune got by pillage and intrigue, and possibly even by real talents of a sort in the service of oriental courts, full of splendours and crimes, tyrannies and treacheries and dark dramas of ambition or love.

“He is the very thing,” Cosmo exclaimed mentally, gazing at the stiff figure leaning against the mantel–piece. Of course he got his fortune in India. What was remarkable about him was that he had managed to get away with his plunder, or at any rate a part of it considerable enough to enable him to make a figure in the world and marry Adèle d’Armand in England. That was only because of the Revolution. In royal France he would not have had the ghost of a chance; and even as it was, only the odious laxity of London society in accepting rich strangers had given him his opportunity. Cosmo, forcing himself to envisage this dubious person as the husband of Adèle, felt very angry with the light–minded tolerance extended to foreigners, characteristic of a certain part of London society. It was perfectly outrageous.

“Where the devil can my wife be?”

Those words made Cosmo start, though they had not been uttered very loudly. Almost mechanically he answered: “I don’t know,” and noticed that Count Helion was staring at him in a curiously unintelligent manner.

“I was really asking myself,” muttered the latter, and stirred uneasily, without however taking his elbow off the mantel–piece. “It’s a natural thought since we are, God knows why, kept waiting for her here. I wasn’t aware I had spoken. Living for many years amongst people who didn’t understand any European language—I had hundreds of them in my palace in Sindh—I got into the habit of talking aloud, strange as it may appear to you.”

“Yes,” said Cosmo, with an air of innocence, “I suppose one acquires all sorts of strange habits in those distant countries. We in England have a class of men who return from India enriched. They are called Nabobs. Some of them have most objectionable habits. Unluckily their mere wealth …”

“There is nothing to compare with wealth,” interrupted the other in a soldierly voice and paused, then continued in the same tone of making a verbal report: “When I was in England I had the privilege to know many people of position. They were very kind to me. They didn’t seem to think lightly of wealth.”

Each phrase came curt, detached, but it was evident that the man did not mean to be offensive. Those statements originated obviously in sincere conviction; and after the count had uttered them there appeared on his forehead the horizontal wrinkles of unintelligent worry. Cosmo asked himself whether the man before him was not really very stupid. Under the elevated eyebrows his eyes looked worn and empty of all thought.

“Lots of money, I mean,” M. de Montevesso began again. “Not your savings and scrapings. Money that one acquires boldly and enough of it to be profuse with.”

Is he going to treat me to vulgar boasting? thought Cosmo. He wished that Adèle would come in and interrupt this tête–à–tête , which was so very different from the one he had been expecting.

“I daresay money is very useful,” he assented, with airy scorn, which he thought might put an end to the subject. But his interlocutor persisted.

“You can’t know anything about it,” he affirmed, then added, unexpectedly, “Money will give you even ideas. Lots of ideas. The worst of it is that any one of them may turn out damnable. Well, yes. There is, of course, danger in money, but what of that?”

“It can scarcely be if it is used for good works, as you seem to use it,” said Cosmo, with polite indifference. He meant it to be final, but Count de Montevesso was not to be suppressed.

“It leads one into worries,” he said. “For instance, that orphanage of mine, it is really a very large place. I am trying to be a benefactor to my native province, but I want it to be in my own way. Well, since the Restoration, the priests are trying to get hold of it. They want to turn it to the glory of God and to the service of religion. I have seen enough of all sorts of religions not to know what that means. No sooner had the king entered Paris than the bishop wrote to me pointing out that there was no chapel, and suggesting that I should build one and appoint a chaplain. That bishop is … ”

He threw up his head suddenly, and Cosmo became aware of the presence of Adèle without having heard even the rustle of her dress. He stood up hastily. There was a short silence.

“I see the acquaintance is made,” said Adèle, looking from one to the other. Her eyes lingered on Cosmo and then turned to her husband. “I didn’t know you would be already here. I had to help my father to his room. I would have come at once here but he detained me.” Again she turned to Cosmo. “You will pardon me.”

“I found Count Helion here. I have not been alone for a minute,” said Cosmo. “You owe me no apologies. I was delighted to make your husband’s acquaintance, even if you were not here to introduce us to each other.”

This was said in English, and Count Helion by the mantel–piece waited till Cosmo had finished before he asked, “Where’s Clelia?”

“I have sent her to bed,” said Countess de Montevesso. “Helion, my father would like to see you this evening.”

“I am at the orders of Monsieur le Marquis.”

The grenadier–like figure at the mantel–piece did not stir, and those words were followed only by a slight twitch in the muscles of the face which might have had a sardonic intention. “To–night, at once,” he repeated. “But with Mr. Latham here?”

“Pray, don’t mind me, I am going away directly,” said Cosmo. “It is getting late.”

“In Italy it is never late. I hope to find you here when I return. As the husband of a daughter of the house of d’Armand, I know what is due to the name of Latham. Am I really expected at once?”

Adèle moved forward a step or two, speaking rapidly: “There has been some news from Elba, or about Elba, which gives a certain concern to my father. As you have been, to the public knowledge, in direct touch with people from Elba, my father would like to have your opinion.”

Count Helion changed his attitude, and, leaning his shoulders against the mantel–piece, addressed himself to Cosmo.

“It was the most innocent thing in the world. It was something about the project for the exploitation of the island of Pianosa. Napoleon sent his treasurer here to get in touch with a banker. I am a man of affairs. The banker consulted me—as a man who knew the spot. It’s true I know the spot, but if you hear it said that it is because of my relations with the Dey of Algiers, pray don’t believe it. I am in no way in touch with the Barbary States.”