Chapter 4 4. Interrogation

"Flee," repeated Saint-Quentin, who, in fact, sat on the box, his legs were so weak that he could not take a step. "Good idea," whispered Dorothy. "Harness the one-eyed magpie, and pack all five into the caravan. Hurry up to the Belgian border!" Her eyes are always on the opponent.She feels she has lost.As long as he opened his mouth, he could take her to court, throw her in prison, and make all her threats come to naught.How much weight does an accusation of a thief carry? Holding the cardboard box in his hand, he shook his head and supported his body on two legs in turn. While he was satisfied, he was still mocking the other party, as if waiting for her to give in and plead for mercy.How little he knew about her!On the contrary, she maintained a posture of contempt and challenge, as if boldly saying to him: "If you dare to say it, you are finished."

He shrugged his shoulders, turned around and said to the captain, who couldn't see that they were competing with each other: "Captain, I'm glad the result came out, and the facts are in the lady's favor. Damn it! What a thankless job!" "It shouldn't have been done," said the Countess de Chagny, who had just approached the count and Raoul d'Avernoy. "It's still right, Mrs. sister-in-law. Your husband and I are puzzled. It's good to find out." "Have you found nothing?" asked Count Octave. "No . . . nothing. But there is a curious little thing that Monsieur de Montforgon is playing with, which Mademoiselle Dorothee gave me. Is that so, madam?"

"Yes," Dorothy replied simply. He took out the small cardboard box, straightened the rubber bands again, and handed it to the Countess: "Would you please keep it until tomorrow morning, my dear friend?" "Why should I keep it and you don't keep it yourself?" "It's different," said he, "that putting it in your hand is like sealing it with wax. We'll open it together at breakfast to-morrow." "Do you really think it's necessary?" "yes……" "Well," said Madame de Charny at last, "if Mademoiselle agrees, I will do so."

"I have this request too, ma'am," said Dorothey hastily, knowing that the danger had been postponed until the next day. "There is nothing good in the cardboard box, just a few small white stones and a few shells. Since it can make the husband happy, and he needs someone to supervise, you can satisfy his little request." However, there is one last formality to be done, which for the captain is a crucial step in similar checks.ID checks, checks, compliance; he wasn't joking about these things.Dorothet, on the other hand, smelled a certain secret between the de Chagny couple and the cousins, and it was certain that the masters of the Robery estate faced the terror of controlling them for several hours. Uneasy strange characters, equally puzzled.Who is she?Where is she from?what is her real nameA smart, sensitive and elegant girl, wandering around with four children, how to explain this?

She had already taken a cardboard clip from a drawer in the caravan.The people in the citrus orchard had already left. With a paper clip under her arm, she followed everyone into the big room in the garden, and took out a piece of paper from the paper clip and handed it to the captain. printing. "Is that all?" After a while, the captain asked. "Isn't that enough? At the village office this morning, the secretary said enough." "They can be anything, these people from the village hall," he replied contemptuously... "Well, what do these names mean? . . . There are Castor and Pollux! . . . Here it is, Baron de Saint-Quentin, the acrobat! . . . "

Dorothy smiled. "It's his name and occupation." "The Baron de Saint-Quentin?" "Yes, his father was a plumber and lived in Saint-Quentin. His name was the Baron." "Then, please show his father's consent." "impossible." "why?" "His father died during the occupation." "Where's mother?" "Dead too. He had no home. The British adopted the boy. Towards the end of the war he worked as a kitchen boy at a hospital in Baleduk, and I was a nurse there. I took him in." The captain grunted his assent and continued the interrogation.

"And what about Castor and Pollux?" "They? I don't know where they are from. When the Germans rushed to Chalons in 1918, they were caught up in the fleeing wave, and they were taken in by French soldiers on the main road. Their names are French soldiers." They were given and taken. They were so stimulated that they couldn’t even remember what happened in the years before that. Are they two brothers? Did they know each other before? Where is their hometown? No one knows. I took them in killed them." "Ah!" The captain froze for a moment. He looked at the page and read jokingly: "Only Monsieur Montforgon remains, Captain of the American Army, War Cross."

"Here," a voice responded. Montforon straightened up in a soldier's pose, heels together, little finger pressed against the seam of baggy trousers. Dorothy hugged him on his knees and kissed him deeply. "Another child of unknown origin. When he was four years old, he lived with a dozen American soldiers who made him a leather bag as a cradle. On the day the Americans attacked, a soldier took him With his back on his back, among all the soldiers, this soldier rushed to the front, and his body was found the next day near Montforgon. In the leather bag beside him, the child was still sleeping, only affected On the battlefield, the regimental commander hung the child with the War Cross and named him Captain Montforgon of the American Army. Later, he was evacuated to the hospital where I was, so that I had the opportunity to treat his wounds. Three Months later, the regimental commander wanted to take him to America. Montforgon refused. He didn't want to leave me. I just kept him."

Dorothei told the story in a low, sympathetic voice.With tears in her eyes, the Countess whispered: "Very well, you are right, madam, very well. But you adopted four orphans. How do you support them?" Dorothey replied with a smile: "We have money." "rich?" "Yes, thanks to Montforgon. The director left him two thousand francs before he left. We bought a caravan and an old horse. That's how the Circus Dorothee was established." gone." "Isn't this a difficult industry that requires apprenticeship?" "The apprenticeship was under the tutelage of an old British soldier, a former circus buffoon, who trained us and gave us all the tricks and gimmicks of the trade. Besides, I was born with a knack for acting. I have done it for many years. Since then, we have traveled far and wide. Life is a bit difficult, but we are all in good health, we never worry, and all in all, the Dorotai Circus is a success."

"But does your circus comply with the rules?" asked the captain, concern for the rules and regulations overriding his sympathy.He added: "Because, after all, your paper is only for reference. What I want to see is your license." "I have a license, Captain." "Where did it come from?" "It was issued by the Sharon Police Department. Sharon is the provincial capital of my hometown." "Show it to me." Obviously, the girl hesitated.She looked from Count Octave to the countess.She had invited them to attend the interrogation, to hear her answers, but at the last moment she regretted it.

"Shall we avoid it for a while?" the countess offered. "No, no," she quickly stopped, "On the contrary, I want you to know..." "What about us?" asked Raoul Darvernoy. "You stay too," she smiled. "Here's something I'm going to tell you. Well! It's no big deal. But . . . after all . . . " She took out a curled-up, smudged license from a cardboard folder. "Look," she said. The captain checked the license carefully, and said in a tone that would not allow anyone to tell lies: "But, it's not your name...it's a fake name, obviously...the same as those of your children, isn't it?" "Not at all, Captain." "Oh, oh, you won't make me believe..." "This is my birth certificate, captain, with the official seal of Algona Village on it." The Comte de Chany cried out: "Why! Are you from the village of Argonne?" "Mr. Earl, it should be said that I used to belong to this village. This little unknown village named the whole area after it, but it no longer exists. The war leveled it." "Yes . "Perhaps it was Jean de Argonne?" she asked. "That's right... Jean de Argonne, he died of his wounds at Chatelet's hospital... Lieutenant Prince de Argonne... Do you know him?" "know." "Where did you meet? When? Under what circumstances did you meet?" "My God!" she said, "it's just a normal situation, just knowing someone very close." "Why, are you... related to Jean de Argonne?" "Very close. He is my father." "Your father, Jean de Argonne! What are you talking about? How is it possible? Well... well, Jean's daughter is called Yolanda." "Yoronda Isabel Dorothei." The count snatched the license from the captain, looked it upside down, and read aloud, in complete astonishment: "Yorlanda-Isabel-Dorote, Princesse d'Argonne." She added, laughing: "Countesse Maresgot, Baroness de la Etret, de Beaugreval, etc." The count seized the birth certificate at the same time and read it slowly, word for word, with increasing confusion in his head: Yolanda-Isabel-Doroté, Princesse d'Argonne, October 14, 1900 Born in Argona, the legitimate daughter of Jean Maresgo, Prince de Argona, and Jesse Valenne. There can be no further doubts.The girl's claimed identity was supported by documents, and this unexpected fact explained precisely what was originally inexplicable in Dorotai's appearance and manner, and made it even more unexpected to raise objections. The countess could not restrain herself. "Yoronda? You are Jean de Argonne's so-called little Yolanda, whom he loved so much!" "He loves me very much," said the girl. "I would like to live with him, but circumstances do not allow us to do so. I love him as if he is in front of my eyes every day." "Yes," said the countess. "Everyone liked him. I only saw him twice, in Paris, shortly after the war. But what a memory he has for me! A man full of joy and enthusiasm! Just like you Dorothy! And I see him in you...eyes...especially in your smile." Dorothei took out two photos from the certificate, pointed to them and said, "Madam, this is his photo. Do you still recognize it?" "Of course I do! And the other one, who is this lady?" "She is my mother, who passed away a long time ago, and my father loves her very much." "Yes, yes, I know . . . she acted before, didn't she? I remember. Let's talk slowly, shall we? Talk about your life, and the hardships that have forced you to live like this. First, you How did you come here? Why did you come here?" Dorothy told how she happened to see the name Robery on a street sign, the words her father never forgot when he was dying.But Count Octave interrupted their conversation. He was a man who was generally private, but who, whenever he had the opportunity, solemnly played the important part that his birth and fortune had placed upon him.He formally consulted his two cousins, and without waiting for their reply, sent the captain of the police away with the money of the rich man.Then he called Saint-Kentin and the other three children out, closed the door carefully, asked the two women to sit down, and walked up and down in front of them with his hands behind his back, looking pensive. Dorothy was very happy.She succeeded, at last forcing the hosts to say what she wanted to hear.Madame de Charny hugged her tightly.Raoul seems to have become a friend.Everything is going smooth.On the other side, of course, was the bearded gentleman, hostile and forbidding, whose fierce eyes never left her.She has full confidence in herself and is ready to accept the challenge fearlessly. Although there is the danger of being crushed anytime and anywhere, she will never give in even if the danger is overwhelming. "Madame," said the Comte de Chany solemnly, "we feel, these brothers and I, that since you are the daughter of the deceased Jean de Argonne, we feel, I say, that we should What happened to him tells you that if death hadn't stopped him, he would have told you himself... We know he would love to have someone talk to you." He paused for a moment, satisfied with the set of opening remarks.On similar occasions, he always speaks solemnly, chooses his words carefully, strives to abide by the rules of grammar, and uses the subjunctive when he should.He continued: "Ma'am, my father François de Charny, my grandfather Dominique de Charny, my great-grandfather Gaspard de Charny, they believed in a great fortune... how to say What?...Unbeknownst to them, they will receive a huge fortune, and they believe that they will one day be the beneficiary of this fortune. Since the Revolution completely destroyed the Count de Chagny's family property, so , everyone rejoiced and looked forward wholeheartedly to the realization of this hope. What was the basis of this confidence? Whether it was François, Dominique, or Gaspard de Chany, anyone No idea. It comes from vague legends that say neither the nature of the wealth nor when it arose, but all of them have one thing in common, and they all mention the name Robleie. Also, it is impossible that these legends It is too far away, because this manor, formerly called Chany, was not renamed Chany-Robelet until the time of Louis XVI. Did this name make the excavation here common? The possibility is very great. Even so, I It had been decided during the war to restore Robleigh Manor, which at the time was only a meeting point for hunting in the country, and to live here permanently—I am not afraid to say it out loud, I recently married Mrs. de Chany for Wife, therefore, is not in a hurry to get the so-called wealth." The count hinted at his means of reorganizing the family business with a sly smile, and went on: "During the war, the Count Octave de Chagny did his duty as a good citizen. I need not tell you that. One In 1915, I was a Lieutenant of the Light Infantry, and I was on leave in Paris. A series of coincidences caused by the war made me friends with three people I didn't know before, and I got to know them and Charny- The kinship of the Robles family. First with Raoul's father, Major Georges Darvernoy. Then with Maxime de Estreche. Finally with Jean de Argot Na. The four of us turned out to be aunts and cousins, and we were all on vacation or recovering from injuries. In this way, we were surprised to find that the same legend circulated in our four families. It is the same as our father and grandfather. , Georges Darvernoy, de Estreche, and Jean de Argonne, were all waiting for a considerable fortune already promised, in order to repay debts which had not been paid. Other than that, the four know nothing. There is no evidence, no clue." To emphasize the effect of his speech, the count paused, and then said: "There is, however, a clue. Jean de Argonne remembered a gold medal which his father had told him was very important. A few days after telling this story, he died in an accident while hunting, and could tell him nothing more. But, Jean de Argonne was sure, there was a line engraved on this medal, and he suddenly remembered Rise up, and say there are three words in it, Robery, on which, needless to say, all our hopes are centered. He tells us that in August, 1914, just before his domain was about to be plundered, he He once rescued more than 20 boxes of things and hid them in a warehouse in Baleduk. He planned to check them out. We are all educated people, because no one knows what will happen after the war, so we are here It had been solemnly sworn before that that any discovery of this wealth would be shared between the four of us, and from that time on, this wealth, if Heaven allowed us to have it, would belong to the four of us jointly. Then, Jean de Argonne's vacation ended and he left us." "It was the end of 1915, wasn't it?" asked Dorothy. "We spent a week together and it was the best time of my life. I never saw him again after that." "It was indeed the end of 1915," said M. de Charny with certainty. "A month later, Jean de Argonne, wounded in the Nores, wrote us a letter some time after his evacuation to Chatelet, a long... unfinished letter..." Madame de Charny made a gesture, as if she did not like her husband mentioning the matter. "No, no, I will hand over the letter," said the count firmly. "Perhaps you are right..." said Madame de Charny. "But……" "Ma'am, what are you worried about?" "I'm afraid they are making you sad for nothing, Dorothee. Some very sad things are said at the end of this letter." "It is our duty to tell her these things," said the Count, in a tone of conviction. He took out a letter from his purse and unfolded the letter paper with the red cross symbol on it.Dorothy felt pain in his heart.She recognized her father's handwriting.The countess held her hand tightly.Raoul d'Avernoy looked at her sympathetically, and she listened, perplexed, trying not only to understand the meaning of each sentence, but also to guess how the letter would end. Dear Octave: First of all, please rest assured that my wound is not serious.It's a trivial matter, not worth mentioning.There is no risk of complications.It was a little hot in the evening, which made the medical officer quite nervous, but everything will be all right, so without further ado, I will tell you about my last visit to Baleduc. The first thing I want to say, Octave, is that I did not go in vain this time, and after a patient search, I finally found the coin among a heap of boots, among a heap of useless things that I had hastily carried away while fleeing for my life. Precious medal.I passed by Paris after I recovered, and I will definitely bring it for you to see.I will keep it secret for the time being, and will not say what is inscribed on one side of the medal, but I will tell you now that on the other side of the medal there are the following Latin words: In Robert Fortuna.The translated meaning is: Wealth lies in tenacious vitality.Among them, the three characters Robert, the so-called vitality, although they are written differently, undoubtedly refer to the Roble Manor, which is the legendary place where wealth is hidden. My dear Octave, have we not taken a step towards the truth?We can do better.Perhaps we also have the help of the totally unexpected, a very inquisitive young man with whom I have just spent some enchanting days... I mean my dear little Yoronda. You know, my dear friend, I regret from time to time that I have not been the real father I wanted to be.My love for Yolanda's mother, and the grief of her death, and the wanderings of the ensuing years, kept me far from that insignificant pastoral, what you call aristocratic domain, which, I believe, is left in ruins today. up. During this time, Yolanda was cared for by farmers, she grew up herself, studied with the parish priest or primary school teachers, especially in nature, loved animals, planted flowers and plants, was energetic and thoughtful.I went back to Algona to visit her several times and was amazed by her practical experience and wisdom.This time, I met her in the field hospital in Balladuk, a little girl who became a medical assistant by sheer perseverance.At just fifteen, you can't imagine the enormous impact she had on those around her.She judges the war like an adult, and makes decisions according to her own ideas. Her view of reality is always so correct, not the reality that people say, but the reality covered by appearances. I said to her, you see very clearly, your eyes see everything in the dark like a cat. My dear Octave, when the war is over I will bring Yolanda with me, and I assure you that with some of our friends together we shall have a splendid career... After reading this, the count stopped.Dorotai showed a sad smile, and she was moved by the affection and appreciation expressed in the letter."It's not over yet, is it?" she asked. "The letter itself ends here," replied the count. "The letter was signed on January 15, 1916, but it was not posted until the 30th; for various reasons, I received it three weeks later. I later learned that , on the night of January 15, Jean de Argonne suddenly developed a high fever, which caught the military medical officer by surprise and showed acute inflammation of the wound, which eventually led to your father's death... or at least..." "At least what?" asked the girl. "At least, that's what the officials say." The earl lowered his voice and finished what he wanted to say. "What did you say? What did you say?" Dorothy said loudly. "Didn't my father die from serious injuries?" "Not sure..." said M. de Charny. "Then how did he die? What do you think? What do you think?"