Chapter 78: The Last Stand: III
"You must go, Miss Julie," Emmanuel said.
"Go there?" she murmured.
"Yes. I’ll accompany you."
"But didn’t you read that I must be alone?"
"You will be alone," the young man replied. "I’ll wait at the corner of Museum Street. If you’re gone so long that I become worried, I’ll come find you. And woe to anyone you have cause to complain about!"
"So, Emmanuel, you think I should obey this invitation?"
"Yes. Didn’t the messenger say your father’s safety depended on it?"
"But what danger threatens him?"
Emmanuel hesitated, but his desire to make Julie decide immediately compelled him to answer.
"Listen," he said. "Today is September 5th, correct?"
"Yes."
"Today at eleven o’clock, your father must pay nearly three hundred thousand francs, right?"
"Yes, we know that."
"Well, we don’t have fifteen thousand francs in the house."
"What will happen then?"
"If your father doesn’t find someone to help him before eleven o’clock today, he’ll be forced to declare bankruptcy at noon."
"Oh, come then, come!" she cried, rushing away with the young man.
Meanwhile, Madame Morrel had told her son everything. The young man knew that after the series of misfortunes that had befallen his father, major changes had occurred in their lifestyle and household management, but he hadn’t realized matters had reached such a desperate point.
Thunderstruck, he rushed from the room and ran upstairs, expecting to find his father in the study, but his knocking went unanswered.
While he stood at the study door, he heard the bedroom door open. Turning, he saw his father emerging. Instead of going directly to his study, Morrel had returned to his bedroom and was only now leaving it.
Morrel cried out in surprise at seeing his son, whose arrival he hadn’t known about. He stood motionless, pressing something concealed under his coat with his left hand.
Maximilian bounded down the stairs and threw his arms around his father’s neck, but suddenly recoiled, placing his right hand on Morrel’s chest.
"Father," he exclaimed, turning deathly pale, "what are you planning to do with that pair of pistols under your coat?"
"This is what I feared!" said Morrel.
"Father, father, in heaven’s name," cried the young man, "what are those weapons for?"
"Maximilian," Morrel replied, looking steadily at his son, "you’re a man and a man of honor. Come, and I’ll explain."
With firm steps, Morrel climbed to his study, Maximilian following with trembling legs. Morrel opened the door and closed it behind his son. Crossing the anteroom, he went to his desk, placed the pistols on it, and pointed to an open ledger.
In this ledger was an exact accounting of his financial situation. Morrel owed 287,500 francs, payable within half an hour. His total assets: 15,257 francs.
"Read," said Morrel.
The young man was overwhelmed by what he saw. Morrel said nothing. What could he say? What need was there to add words to such desperate proof in numbers?
"Have you done everything possible, Father, to avoid this disastrous outcome?" the young man asked after a moment’s pause.
"I have," Morrel replied.
"You have no money coming in that you can rely on?"
"None."
"You’ve exhausted every resource?"
"All of them."
"And in half an hour," Maximilian said in a grim voice, "our family name will be dishonored."
"Blood washes away dishonor," Morrel said.
"You’re right, Father. I understand." Extending his hand toward one of the pistols, he said, "There’s one for you and one for me. Thank you."
Morrel caught his hand. "Your mother, your sister! Who will support them?"
A shudder ran through the young man. "Father," he said, "are you asking me to live?"
"Yes, I am," Morrel answered. "It’s your duty. You have a calm, strong mind, Maximilian. You’re no ordinary man. I’m not making requests or giving commands. I only ask you to examine my position as if it were your own, then judge for yourself."
The young man reflected for a moment. Then an expression of sublime resignation appeared in his eyes. With a slow, sad gesture, he removed his military insignia.
"So be it, Father," he said, extending his hand to Morrel. "Die in peace. I will live."
Morrel was about to fall to his knees before his son, but Maximilian caught him in his arms. Those two noble hearts pressed against each other.
"You know this isn’t my fault," Morrel said.
Maximilian smiled. "I know, Father. You’re the most honorable man I’ve ever known."
"Good, my son. Now there’s nothing more to be said. Go rejoin your mother and sister."
"Father," the young man said, bending his knee, "bless me."
Morrel took his son’s head between his hands, drew him forward, and kissing his forehead several times, said, "Yes, I bless you in my own name and in the name of three generations of irreproachable men who speak through me: ’What misfortune has destroyed, providence may rebuild.’ Seeing me die this way, even the most merciless will pity you. Perhaps they’ll grant you the time they’ve refused me. Do your best to keep our name free from dishonor. Work, labor, young man! Struggle ardently and courageously! Live, you, your mother, and sister, with the strictest economy, so that day by day, the assets I leave in your hands may grow and flourish.
"Imagine how glorious that day will be, how grand, how solemn, the day of complete restoration when you’ll stand in this very office and say, ’My father died because he couldn’t do what I’ve accomplished today, but he died calmly and peacefully, knowing what I would achieve.’"
"Father! Why shouldn’t you live?"
"If I live, everything changes. If I live, interest becomes doubt, pity becomes hostility. If I live, I’m just a man who broke his word, failed his obligations, nothing but a bankrupt. But if I die, remember, Maximilian, my body will be that of an honest but unfortunate man. Living, my best friends would avoid our house. Dead, all the city will follow me in tears to my final rest. Living, you’d feel shame at our name. Dead, you can raise your head and say, ’I am the son of the man you killed because, for the first time, he was forced to break his word.’"
The young man groaned but seemed resigned.
"Now," said Morrel, "leave me alone and try to keep your mother and sister away."
"Won’t you see my sister once more?" Maximilian asked, harboring one last desperate hope that this interview might change everything.
Morrel shook his head. "I saw her this morning and said goodbye."
"Do you have any particular instructions for me, Father?"
"Yes, my son. A sacred command."
"Tell me."
"The house of Thomson & French is the only one that, whether from humanity or self-interest, I won’t try to read men’s hearts, has shown me any pity. In ten minutes, their agent will arrive to collect 287,500 francs. I won’t say they granted, but they offered me three months. Let this house be the first repaid, my son. Respect this man."
"I will, Father."
"And now, farewell once more. Go, leave me. I need to be alone. You’ll find my will in the secretary in my bedroom."