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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1649-0.txt b/1649-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07e4c61 --- /dev/null +++ b/1649-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5182 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ferragus + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Katharine Prescott Wormeley + +Release Date: February, 1999 [Etext #1649] +Posting Date: February 27, 2010 +Last Updated: November 22, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERRAGUS *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + + +By Honore De Balzac + + + +Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + + + PREPARER’S NOTE: + + Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is entitled + The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with the + Golden Eyes. The three stories are frequently combined under + the title The Thirteen. + + + + + DEDICATION + + To Hector Berlioz. + + + + +PREFACE + +Thirteen men were banded together in Paris under the Empire, all imbued +with one and the same sentiment, all gifted with sufficient energy to +be faithful to the same thought, with sufficient honor among themselves +never to betray one another even if their interests clashed; and +sufficiently wily and politic to conceal the sacred ties that united +them, sufficiently strong to maintain themselves above the law, bold +enough to undertake all things, and fortunate enough to succeed, nearly +always, in their undertakings; having run the greatest dangers, but +keeping silence if defeated; inaccessible to fear; trembling neither +before princes, nor executioners, not even before innocence; accepting +each other for such as they were, without social prejudices,--criminals, +no doubt, but certainly remarkable through certain of the qualities that +make great men, and recruiting their number only among men of mark. That +nothing might be lacking to the sombre and mysterious poesy of their +history, these Thirteen men have remained to this day unknown; though +all have realized the most chimerical ideas that the fantastic power +falsely attributed to the Manfreds, the Fausts, and the Melmoths can +suggest to the imagination. To-day, they are broken up, or, at least, +dispersed; they have peaceably put their necks once more under the yoke +of civil law, just as Morgan, that Achilles among pirates, transformed +himself from a buccaneering scourge to a quiet colonist, and spent, +without remorse, around his domestic hearth the millions gathered in +blood by the lurid light of flames and slaughter. + +Since the death of Napoleon, circumstances, about which the author must +keep silence, have still farther dissolved the original bond of this +secret society, always extraordinary, sometimes sinister, as though +it lived in the blackest pages of Mrs. Radcliffe. A somewhat strange +permission to relate in his own way a few of the adventures of these men +(while respecting certain susceptibilities) has only recently been given +to him by one of those anonymous heroes to whom all society was once +occultly subjected. In this permission the writer fancied he detected a +vague desire for personal celebrity. + +This man, apparently still young, with fair hair and blue eyes, whose +sweet, clear voice seemed to denote a feminine soul, was pale of face +and mysterious in manner; he conversed affably, declared himself not +more than forty years of age, and apparently belonged to the very +highest social classes. The name which he assumed must have been +fictitious; his person was unknown in society. Who was he? That, no one +has ever known. + +Perhaps, in confiding to the author the extraordinary matters which he +related to him, this mysterious person may have wished to see them in +a manner reproduced, and thus enjoy the emotions they were certain +to bring to the hearts of the masses,--a feeling analogous to that of +Macpherson when the name of his creation Ossian was transcribed into +all languages. That was certainly, for the Scotch lawyer, one of the +keenest, or at any rate the rarest, sensations a man could give himself. +Is it not the incognito of genius? To write the “Itinerary from Paris to +Jerusalem” is to take a share in the human glory of a single epoch; but +to endow his native land with another Homer, was not that usurping the +work of God? + +The author knows too well the laws of narration to be ignorant of the +pledges this short preface is contracting for him; but he also knows +enough of the history of the _Thirteen_ to be certain that his +present tale will never be thought below the interest inspired by +this programme. Dramas steeped in blood, comedies filled with terror, +romantic tales through which rolled heads mysteriously decapitated, have +been confided to him. If readers were not surfeited with horrors served +up to them of late in cold blood, he might reveal the calm atrocities, +the surpassing tragedies concealed under family life. But he chooses +in preference gentler events,--those where scenes of purity succeed the +tempests of passion; where woman is radiant with virtue and beauty. To +the honor of the _Thirteen_ be it said that there are such scenes in +their history, which may have the honor of being some day published as +a foil of tales to listeners,--that race apart from others, so curiously +energetic, and so interesting in spite of its crimes. + +An author ought to be above converting his tale, when the tale is true, +into a species of surprise-game, and of taking his readers, as certain +novellists do, through many volumes and from cellar to cellar, to show +them the dry bones of a dead body, and tell them, by way of conclusion, +that _that_ is what has frightened them behind doors, hidden in the +arras, or in cellars where the dead man was buried and forgotten. In +spite of his aversion for prefaces, the author feels bound to place the +following statement at the head of this narrative. Ferragus is a +first episode which clings by invisible links to the “History of the +_Thirteen_,” whose power, naturally acquired, can alone explain certain +acts and agencies which would otherwise seem supernatural. Although it +is permissible in tellers of tales to have a sort of literary coquetry +in becoming historians, they ought to renounce the benefit that may +accrue from an odd or fantastic title--on which certain slight successes +have been won in the present day. Consequently, the author will now +explain, succinctly, the reasons that obliged him to select a title to +his book which seems at first sight unnatural. + +_Ferragus_ is, according to ancient custom, a name taken by the chief or +Grand Master of the Devorants. On the day of their election these chiefs +continue whichever of the dynasties of their Order they are most +in sympathy with, precisely as the Popes do, on their accession, in +connection with pontifical dynasties. Thus the Devorants have “Trempe-la +Soupe IX.,” “Ferragus XXII.,” “Tutanus XIII.,” “Masche-Fer IV.,” just +as the Church has Clement XIV., Gregory VII., Julius II., Alexander VI., +etc. + +Now, then, who are the Devorants? “Devorant” is the name of one of +those tribes of “Companions” that issued in ancient times from the great +mystical association formed among the workers of Christianity to rebuild +the temple at Jerusalem. Companionism (to coin a word) still exists in +France among the people. Its traditions, powerful over minds that are +not enlightened, and over men not educated enough to cast aside an oath, +might serve the ends of formidable enterprises if some rough-hewn genius +were to seize hold of these diverse associations. All the instruments +of this Companionism are well-nigh blind. From town to town there has +existed from time immemorial, for the use of Companions, an “Obade,”--a +sort of halting-place, kept by a “Mother,” an old woman, half-gypsy, +with nothing to lose, knowing everything that happens in her +neighborhood, and devoted, either from fear or habit, to the tribe, +whose straggling members she feeds and lodges. This people, ever moving +and changing, though controlled by immutable customs, has its eyes +everywhere, executes, without judging it, a WILL,--for the oldest +Companion still belongs to an era when men had faith. Moreover, +the whole body professes doctrines that are sufficiently true and +sufficiently mysterious to electrify into a sort of tribal loyalty all +adepts whenever they obtain even a slight development. The attachment +of the Companions to their laws is so passionate that the diverse +tribes will fight sanguinary battles with each other in defence of some +question of principle. + +Happily for our present public safety, when a Devorant is ambitious, he +builds houses, lays by his money, and leaves the Order. There is many +a curious thing to tell about the “Compagnons du Devoir” [Companions of +the Duty], the rivals of the Devorants, and about the different sects +of working-men, their usages, their fraternity, and the bond existing +between them and the free-masons. But such details would be out of place +here. The author must, however, add that under the old monarchy it was +not an unknown thing to find a “Trempe-la-Soupe” enslaved to the king +sentenced for a hundred and one years to the galleys, but ruling his +tribe from there, religiously consulted by it, and when he escaped from +his galley, certain of help, succor, and respect, wherever he might be. +To see its grand master at the galleys is, to the faithful tribe, only +one of those misfortunes for which providence is responsible, and which +does not release the Devorants from obeying a power created by them to +be above them. It is but the passing exile of their legitimate king, +always a king for them. Thus we see the romantic prestige attaching to +the name of Ferragus and to that of the Devorants completely dissipated. + +As for the _Thirteen_, they were all men of the stamp of Trelawney, Lord +Byron’s friend, who was, they say, the original of his “Corsair.” They +were all fatalists, men of nerve and poesy, weary of leading flat and +empty lives, driven toward Asiatic enjoyments by forces all the more +excessive because, long dormant, they awoke furious. One of them, after +re-reading “Venice Preserved,” and admiring the sublime union of Pierre +and Jaffier, began to reflect on the virtues shown by men who are +outlawed by society, on the honesty of galley-slaves, the faithfulness +of thieves among each other, the privileges of exorbitant power which +such men know how to win by concentrating all ideas into a single will. +He saw that Man is greater than men. He concluded that society ought +to belong wholly to those distinguished beings who, to natural +intelligence, acquired wisdom, and fortune, add a fanaticism hot enough +to fuse into one casting these different forces. That done, their occult +power, vast in action and in intensity, against which the social order +would be helpless, would cast down all obstacles, blast all other wills, +and give to each the devilish power of all. This world apart within the +world, hostile to the world, admitting none of the world’s ideas, +not recognizing any law, not submitting to any conscience but that of +necessity, obedient to a devotion only, acting with every faculty for +a single associate when one of their number asked for the assistance of +all,--this life of filibusters in lemon kid gloves and cabriolets; +this intimate union of superior beings, cold and sarcastic, smiling and +cursing in the midst of a false and puerile society; this certainty of +forcing all things to serve an end, of plotting a vengeance that could +not fail of living in thirteen hearts; this happiness of nurturing a +secret hatred in the face of men, and of being always in arms against +this; this ability to withdraw to the sanctuary of self with one idea +more than even the most remarkable of men could have,--this religion of +pleasure and egotism cast so strong a spell over Thirteen men that they +revived the society of Jesuits to the profit of the devil. + +It was horrible and stupendous; but the compact was made, and it lasted +precisely because it appeared to be so impossible. + +There was, therefore, in Paris a brotherhood of _Thirteen_, who belonged +to each other absolutely, but ignored themselves as absolutely before +the world. At night they met, like conspirators, hiding no thought, +disposing each and all of a common fortune, like that of the Old Man +of the Mountain; having their feet in all salons, their hands in all +money-boxes, and making all things serve their purpose or their fancy +without scruple. No chief commanded them; no one member could arrogate +to himself that power. The most eager passion, the most exacting +circumstance, alone had the right to pass first. They were Thirteen +unknown kings,--but true kings, more than ordinary kings and judges and +executioners,--men who, having made themselves wings to roam through +society from depth to height, disdained to be anything in the social +sphere because they could be all. If the present writer ever learns the +reasons of their abdication of this power, he will take occasion to tell +them.[*] + + [*] See Theophile Gautier’s account of the society of the + “Cheval Rouge.” Memoir of Balzac. Roberts Brothers, Boston. + +Now, with this brief explanation, he may be allowed to begin the tale +of certain episodes in the history of the _Thirteen_, which have more +particularly attracted him by the Parisian flavor of their details and +the whimsicality of their contrasts. + + + + + +FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + + + + +CHAPTER I. MADAME JULES + + +Certain streets in Paris are as degraded as a man covered with infamy; +also, there are noble streets, streets simply respectable, young streets +on the morality of which the public has not yet formed an opinion; also +cut-throat streets, streets older than the age of the oldest dowagers, +estimable streets, streets always clean, streets always dirty, working, +laboring, and mercantile streets. In short, the streets of Paris +have every human quality, and impress us, by what we must call their +physiognomy, with certain ideas against which we are defenceless. There +are, for instance, streets of a bad neighborhood in which you could not +be induced to live, and streets where you would willingly take up your +abode. Some streets, like the rue Montmartre, have a charming head, +and end in a fish’s tail. The rue de la Paix is a wide street, a fine +street, yet it wakens none of those gracefully noble thoughts which come +to an impressible mind in the middle of the rue Royale, and it certainly +lacks the majesty which reigns in the Place Vendome. + +If you walk the streets of the Ile Saint-Louis, do not seek the reason +of the nervous sadness that lays hold upon you save in the solitude +of the spot, the gloomy look of the houses, and the great deserted +mansions. This island, the ghost of _fermiers-generaux_, is the Venice +of Paris. The Place de la Bourse is voluble, busy, degraded; it is +never fine except by moonlight at two in the morning. By day it is +Paris epitomized; by night it is a dream of Greece. The rue +Traversiere-Saint-Honore--is not that a villainous street? Look at the +wretched little houses with two windows on a floor, where vice, crime, +and misery abound. The narrow streets exposed to the north, where the +sun never comes more than three or four times a year, are the cut-throat +streets which murder with impunity; the authorities of the present +day do not meddle with them; but in former times the Parliament might +perhaps have summoned the lieutenant of police and reprimanded him for +the state of things; and it would, at least, have issued some decree +against such streets, as it once did against the wigs of the Chapter of +Beauvais. And yet Monsieur Benoiston de Chateauneuf has proved that +the mortality of these streets is double that of others! To sum up such +theories by a single example: is not the rue Fromentin both murderous +and profligate! + +These observations, incomprehensible out of Paris, will doubtless be +understood by musing men of thought and poesy and pleasure, who +know, while rambling about Paris, how to harvest the mass of floating +interests which may be gathered at all hours within her walls; to them +Paris is the most delightful and varied of monsters: here, a pretty +woman; farther on, a haggard pauper; here, new as the coinage of a new +reign; there, in this corner, elegant as a fashionable woman. A monster, +moreover, complete! Its garrets, as it were, a head full of knowledge +and genius; its first storeys stomachs repleted; its shops, actual feet, +where the busy ambulating crowds are moving. Ah! what an ever-active +life the monster leads! Hardly has the last vibration of the last +carriage coming from a ball ceased at its heart before its arms are +moving at the barriers and it shakes itself slowly into motion. Doors +open; turning on their hinges like the membrane of some huge lobster, +invisibly manipulated by thirty thousand men or women, of whom each +individual occupies a space of six square feet, but has a kitchen, a +workshop, a bed, children, a garden, little light to see by, but +must see all. Imperceptibly, the articulations begin to crack; motion +communicates itself; the street speaks. By mid-day, all is alive; the +chimneys smoke, the monster eats; then he roars, and his thousand paws +begin to ramp. Splendid spectacle! But, O Paris! he who has not admired +your gloomy passages, your gleams and flashes of light, your deep and +silent _cul-de-sacs_, who has not listened to your murmurings between +midnight and two in the morning, knows nothing as yet of your true +poesy, nor of your broad and fantastic contrasts. + +There are a few amateurs who never go their way heedlessly; who savor +their Paris, so to speak; who know its physiognomy so well that they +see every wart, and pimple, and redness. To others, Paris is always that +monstrous marvel, that amazing assemblage of activities, of schemes, +of thoughts; the city of a hundred thousand tales, the head of the +universe. But to those few, Paris is sad or gay, ugly or beautiful, +living or dead; to them Paris is a creature; every man, every fraction +of a house is a lobe of the cellular tissue of that great courtesan +whose head and heart and fantastic customs they know so well. These men +are lovers of Paris; they lift their noses at such or such a corner of +a street, certain that they can see the face of a clock; they tell a +friend whose tobacco-pouch is empty, “Go down that passage and turn +to the left; there’s a tobacconist next door to a confectioner, where +there’s a pretty girl.” Rambling about Paris is, to these poets, a +costly luxury. How can they help spending precious minutes before +the dramas, disasters, faces, and picturesque events which meet us +everywhere amid this heaving queen of cities, clothed in posters,--who +has, nevertheless, not a single clean corner, so complying is she to the +vices of the French nation! Who has not chanced to leave his home early +in the morning, intending to go to some extremity of Paris, and found +himself unable to get away from the centre of it by the dinner-hour? +Such a man will know how to excuse this vagabondizing start upon our +tale; which, however, we here sum up in an observation both useful and +novel, as far as any observation can be novel in Paris, where there is +nothing new,--not even the statue erected yesterday, on which some young +gamin has already scribbled his name. + +Well, then! there are streets, or ends of streets, there are houses, +unknown for the most part to persons of social distinction, to which a +woman of that class cannot go without causing cruel and very wounding +things to be thought of her. Whether the woman be rich and has a +carriage, whether she is on foot, or is disguised, if she enters one +of these Parisian defiles at any hour of the day, she compromises her +reputation as a virtuous woman. If, by chance, she is there at nine in +the evening the conjectures that an observer permits himself to make +upon her may prove fearful in their consequences. But if the woman is +young and pretty, if she enters a house in one of those streets, if the +house has a long, dark, damp, and evil-smelling passage-way, at the end +of which flickers the pallid gleam of an oil lamp, and if beneath that +gleam appears the horrid face of a withered old woman with fleshless +fingers, ah, then! and we say it in the interests of young and pretty +women, that woman is lost. She is at the mercy of the first man of her +acquaintance who sees her in that Parisian slough. There is more than +one street in Paris where such a meeting may lead to a frightful drama, +a bloody drama of death and love, a drama of the modern school. + +Unhappily, this scene, this modern drama itself, will be comprehended by +only a small number of persons; and it is a pity to tell the tale to +a public which cannot enter into its local merit. But who can flatter +himself that he will ever be understood? We all die unknown--‘tis the +saying of women and of authors. + +At half-past eight o’clock one evening, in the rue Pagevin, in the days +when that street had no wall which did not echo some infamous word, and +was, in the direction of the rue Soly, the narrowest and most impassable +street in Paris (not excepting the least frequented corner of the most +deserted street),--at the beginning of the month of February about +thirteen years ago, a young man, by one of those chances which come but +once in life, turned the corner of the rue Pagevin to enter the rue des +Vieux-Augustins, close to the rue Soly. There, this young man, who lived +himself in the rue de Bourbon, saw in a woman near whom he had been +unconsciously walking, a vague resemblance to the prettiest woman in +Paris; a chaste and delightful person, with whom he was secretly and +passionately in love,--a love without hope; she was married. In a moment +his heart leaped, an intolerable heat surged from his centre and flowed +through all his veins; his back turned cold, the skin of his head crept. +He loved, he was young, he knew Paris; and his knowledge did not permit +him to be ignorant of all there was of possible infamy in an elegant, +rich, young, and beautiful woman walking there, alone, with a furtively +criminal step. _She_ in that mud! at that hour! + +The love that this young man felt for that woman may seem romantic, and +all the more so because he was an officer in the Royal Guard. If he had +been in the infantry, the affair might have seemed more likely; but, as +an officer of rank in the cavalry, he belonged to that French arm which +demands rapidity in its conquests and derives as much vanity from its +amorous exploits as from its dashing uniform. But the passion of this +officer was a true love, and many young hearts will think it noble. +He loved this woman because she was virtuous; he loved her virtue, her +modest grace, her imposing saintliness, as the dearest treasures of his +hidden passion. This woman was indeed worthy to inspire one of those +platonic loves which are found, like flowers amid bloody ruins, in the +history of the middle-ages; worthy to be the hidden principle of all the +actions of a young man’s life; a love as high, as pure as the skies when +blue; a love without hope and to which men bind themselves because +it can never deceive; a love that is prodigal of unchecked enjoyment, +especially at an age when the heart is ardent, the imagination keen, and +the eyes of a man see very clearly. + +Strange, weird, inconceivable effects may be met with at night in Paris. +Only those who have amused themselves by watching those effects have +any idea how fantastic a woman may appear there at dusk. At times the +creature whom you are following, by accident or design, seems to you +light and slender; the stockings, if they are white, make you fancy that +the legs must be slim and elegant; the figure though wrapped in a shawl, +or concealed by a pelisse, defines itself gracefully and seductively +among the shadows; anon, the uncertain gleam thrown from a shop-window +or a street lamp bestows a fleeting lustre, nearly always deceptive, on +the unknown woman, and fires the imagination, carrying it far beyond +the truth. The senses then bestir themselves; everything takes color and +animation; the woman appears in an altogether novel aspect; her person +becomes beautiful. Behold! she is not a woman, she is a demon, a siren, +who is drawing you by magnetic attraction to some respectable house, +where the worthy _bourgeoise_, frightened by your threatening step and +the clack of your boots, shuts the door in your face without looking at +you. + +A vacillating gleam, thrown from the shop-window of a shoemaker, +suddenly illuminated from the waist down the figure of the woman who was +before the young man. Ah! surely, _she_ alone had that swaying figure; +she alone knew the secret of that chaste gait which innocently set into +relief the many beauties of that attractive form. Yes, that was the +shawl, and that the velvet bonnet which she wore in the mornings. On +her gray silk stockings not a spot, on her shoes not a splash. The shawl +held tightly round the bust disclosed, vaguely, its charming lines; and +the young man, who had often seen those shoulders at a ball, knew well +the treasures that the shawl concealed. By the way a Parisian woman +wraps a shawl around her, and the way she lifts her feet in the street, +a man of intelligence in such studies can divine the secret of her +mysterious errand. There is something, I know not what, of quivering +buoyancy in the person, in the gait; the woman seems to weigh less; she +steps, or rather, she glides like a star, and floats onward led by a +thought which exhales from the folds and motion of her dress. The young +man hastened his step, passed the woman, and then turned back to look +at her. Pst! she had disappeared into a passage-way, the grated door of +which and its bell still rattled and sounded. The young man walked back +to the alley and saw the woman reach the farther end, where she began +to mount--not without receiving the obsequious bow of an old portress--a +winding staircase, the lower steps of which were strongly lighted; she +went up buoyantly, eagerly, as though impatient. + +“Impatient for what?” said the young man to himself, drawing back to +lean against a wooden railing on the other side of the street. He +gazed, unhappy man, at the different storeys of the house, with the keen +attention of a detective searching for a conspirator. + +It was one of those houses of which there are thousands in Paris, +ignoble, vulgar, narrow, yellowish in tone, with four storeys and three +windows on each floor. The outer blinds of the first floor were closed. +Where was she going? The young man fancied he heard the tinkle of a bell +on the second floor. As if in answer to it, a light began to move in a +room with two windows strongly illuminated, which presently lit up the +third window, evidently that of a first room, either the salon or the +dining-room of the apartment. Instantly the outline of a woman’s bonnet +showed vaguely on the window, and a door between the two rooms must +have closed, for the first was dark again, while the two other windows +resumed their ruddy glow. At this moment a voice said, “Hi, there!” and +the young man was conscious of a blow on his shoulder. + +“Why don’t you pay attention?” said the rough voice of a workman, +carrying a plank on his shoulder. The man passed on. He was the voice of +Providence saying to the watcher: “What are you meddling with? Think of +your own duty; and leave these Parisians to their own affairs.” + +The young man crossed his arms; then, as no one beheld him, he suffered +tears of rage to flow down his cheeks unchecked. At last the sight of +the shadows moving behind the lighted windows gave him such pain that he +looked elsewhere and noticed a hackney-coach, standing against a wall +in the upper part of the rue des Vieux-Augustins, at a place where there +was neither the door of a house, nor the light of a shop-window. + +Was it she? Was it not she? Life or death to a lover! This lover waited. +He stood there during a century of twenty minutes. After that the woman +came down, and he then recognized her as the one whom he secretly loved. +Nevertheless, he wanted still to doubt. She went to the hackney-coach, +and got into it. + +“The house will always be there and I can search it later,” thought the +young man, following the carriage at a run, to solve his last doubts; +and soon he did so. + +The carriage stopped in the rue de Richelieu before a shop for +artificial flowers, close to the rue de Menars. The lady got out, +entered the shop, sent out the money to pay the coachman, and presently +left the shop herself, on foot, after buying a bunch of marabouts. +Marabouts for her black hair! The officer beheld her, through the +window-panes, placing the feathers to her head to see the effect, and +he fancied he could hear the conversation between herself and the +shop-woman. + +“Oh! madame, nothing is more suitable for brunettes: brunettes have +something a little too strongly marked in their lines, and marabouts +give them just that _flow_ which they lack. Madame la Duchesse de +Langeais says they give a woman something vague, Ossianic, and very +high-bred.” + +“Very good; send them to me at once.” + +Then the lady turned quickly toward the rue de Menars, and entered her +own house. When the door closed on her, the young lover, having lost +his hopes, and worse, far worse, his dearest beliefs, walked through the +streets like a drunken man, and presently found himself in his own room +without knowing how he came there. He flung himself into an arm-chair, +put his head in his hands and his feet on the andirons, drying his boots +until he burned them. It was an awful moment,--one of those moments in +human life when the character is moulded, and the future conduct of the +best of men depends on the good or evil fortune of his first action. +Providence or fatality?--choose which you will. + +This young man belonged to a good family, whose nobility was not very +ancient; but there are so few really old families in these days, that +all men of rank are ancient without dispute. His grandfather had bought +the office of counsellor to the Parliament of Paris, where he afterwards +became president. His sons, each provided with a handsome fortune, +entered the army, and through their marriages became attached to the +court. The Revolution swept the family away; but one old dowager, too +obstinate to emigrate, was left; she was put in prison, threatened with +death, but was saved by the 9th Thermidor and recovered her property. +When the proper time came, about the year 1804, she recalled her +grandson to France. Auguste de Maulincour, the only scion of the +Carbonnon de Maulincour, was brought up by the good dowager with the +triple care of a mother, a woman of rank, and an obstinate dowager. When +the Restoration came, the young man, then eighteen years of age, entered +the Maison-Rouge, followed the princes to Ghent, was made an officer in +the body-guard, left it to serve in the line, but was recalled later to +the Royal Guard, where, at twenty-three years of age, he found +himself major of a cavalry regiment,--a splendid position, due to his +grandmother, who had played her cards well to obtain it, in spite of his +youth. This double biography is a compendium of the general and special +history, barring variations, of all the noble families who emigrated +having debts and property, dowagers and tact. + +Madame la Baronne de Maulincour had a friend in the old Vidame de +Pamiers, formerly a commander of the Knights of Malta. This was one of +those undying friendships founded on sexagenary ties which nothing +can weaken, because at the bottom of such intimacies there are certain +secrets of the human heart, delightful to guess at when we have the +time, insipid to explain in twenty words, and which might make the text +of a work in four volumes as amusing as the Doyen de Killerine,--a work +about which young men talk and judge without having read it. + +Auguste de Maulincour belonged therefore to the faubourg Saint-Germain +through his grandmother and the vidame, and it sufficed him to date back +two centuries to take the tone and opinions of those who assume to +go back to Clovis. This young man, pale, slender, and delicate in +appearance, a man of honor and true courage, who would fight a duel for +a yes or a no, had never yet fought upon a battle-field, though he wore +in his button-hole the cross of the Legion of honor. He was, as you +perceive, one of the blunders of the Restoration, perhaps the most +excusable of them. The youth of those days was the youth of no epoch. +It came between the memories of the Empire and those of the Emigration, +between the old traditions of the court and the conscientious education +of the _bourgeoisie_; between religion and fancy-balls; between two +political faiths, between Louis XVIII., who saw only the present, and +Charles X., who looked too far into the future; it was moreover bound to +accept the will of the king, though the king was deceiving and tricking +it. This unfortunate youth, blind and yet clear-sighted, was counted +as nothing by old men jealously keeping the reins of the State in +their feeble hands, while the monarchy could have been saved by their +retirement and the accession of this Young France, which the old +doctrinaires, the _emigres_ of the Restoration, still speak of +slightingly. Auguste de Maulincour was a victim to the ideas which +weighed in those days upon French youth, and we must here explain why. + +The Vidame de Pamiers was still, at sixty-seven years of age, a very +brilliant man, having seen much and lived much; a good talker, a man of +honor and a gallant man, but who held as to women the most detestable +opinions; he loved them, and he despised them. _Their_ honor! _their_ +feelings! Ta-ra-ra, rubbish and shams! When he was with them, he +believed in them, the ci-devant “monstre”; he never contradicted them, +and he made them shine. But among his male friends, when the topic of +the sex came up, he laid down the principle that to deceive women, and +to carry on several intrigues at once, should be the occupation of those +young men who were so misguided as to wish to meddle in the affairs of +the State. It is sad to have to sketch so hackneyed a portrait, for has +it not figured everywhere and become, literally, as threadbare as +that of a grenadier of the Empire? But the vidame had an influence +on Monsieur de Maulincour’s destiny which obliges us to preserve his +portrait; he lectured the young man after his fashion, and did his best +to convert him to the doctrines of the great age of gallantry. + +The dowager, a tender-hearted, pious woman, sitting between God and her +vidame, a model of grace and sweetness, but gifted with that well-bred +persistency which triumphs in the long run, had longed to preserve for +her grandson the beautiful illusions of life, and had therefore brought +him up in the highest principles; she instilled into him her own +delicacy of feeling and made him, to outward appearance, a timid man, if +not a fool. The sensibilities of the young fellow, preserved pure, were +not worn by contact without; he remained so chaste, so scrupulous, that +he was keenly offended by actions and maxims to which the world attached +no consequence. Ashamed of this susceptibility, he forced himself to +conceal it under a false hardihood; but he suffered in secret, all the +while scoffing with others at the things he reverenced. + +It came to pass that he was deceived; because, in accordance with a not +uncommon whim of destiny, he, a man of gentle melancholy, and spiritual +in love, encountered in the object of his first passion a woman who +held in horror all German sentimentalism. The young man, in consequence, +distrusted himself, became dreamy, absorbed in his griefs, complaining +of not being understood. Then, as we desire all the more violently the +things we find difficult to obtain, he continued to adore women with +that ingenuous tenderness and feline delicacy the secret of which +belongs to women themselves, who may, perhaps, prefer to keep the +monopoly of it. In point of fact, though women of the world complain +of the way men love them, they have little liking themselves for those +whose soul is half feminine. Their own superiority consists in making +men believe they are their inferiors in love; therefore they will +readily leave a lover if he is inexperienced enough to rob them of those +fears with which they seek to deck themselves, those delightful tortures +of feigned jealousy, those troubles of hope betrayed, those futile +expectations,--in short, the whole procession of their feminine +miseries. They hold Sir Charles Grandison in horror. What can be more +contrary to their nature than a tranquil, perfect love? They want +emotions; happiness without storms is not happiness to them. Women with +souls that are strong enough to bring infinitude into love are angelic +exceptions; they are among women what noble geniuses are among men. +Their great passions are rare as masterpieces. Below the level of +such love come compromises, conventions, passing and contemptible +irritations, as in all things petty and perishable. + +Amid the hidden disasters of his heart, and while he was still seeking +the woman who could comprehend him (a search which, let us remark in +passing, is one of the amorous follies of our epoch), Auguste met, in +the rank of society that was farthest from his own, in the secondary +sphere of money, where banking holds the first place, a perfect being, +one of those women who have I know not what about them that is saintly +and sacred,--women who inspire such reverence that love has need of the +help of a long familiarity to declare itself. + +Auguste then gave himself up wholly to the delights of the deepest and +most moving of passions, to a love that was purely adoring. Innumerable +repressed desires there were, shadows of passion so vague yet so +profound, so fugitive and yet so actual, that one scarcely knows to what +we may compare them. They are like perfumes, or clouds, or rays of the +sun, or shadows, or whatever there is in nature that shines for a moment +and disappears, that springs to life and dies, leaving in the heart long +echoes of emotion. When the soul is young enough to nurture melancholy +and far-off hope, to find in woman more than a woman, is it not the +greatest happiness that can befall a man when he loves enough to feel +more joy in touching a gloved hand, or a lock of hair, in listening to +a word, in casting a single look, than in all the ardor of possession +given by happy love? Thus it is that rejected persons, those rebuffed by +fate, the ugly and unfortunate, lovers unrevealed, women and timid men, +alone know the treasures contained in the voice of the beloved. Taking +their source and their element from the soul itself, the vibrations +of the air, charged with passion, put our hearts so powerfully into +communion, carrying thought between them so lucidly, and being, above +all, so incapable of falsehood, that a single inflection of a voice is +often a revelation. What enchantments the intonations of a tender +voice can bestow upon the heart of a poet! What ideas they awaken! What +freshness they shed there! Love is in the voice before the glance avows +it. Auguste, poet after the manner of lovers (there are poets who feel, +and poets who express; the first are the happiest), Auguste had tasted +all these early joys, so vast, so fecund. SHE possessed the most winning +organ that the most artful woman of the world could have desired in +order to deceive at her ease; _she_ had that silvery voice which is soft +to the ear, and ringing only for the heart which it stirs and troubles, +caresses and subjugates. + +And this woman went by night to the rue Soly through the rue Pagevin! +and her furtive apparition in an infamous house had just destroyed the +grandest of passions! The vidame’s logic triumphed. + +“If she is betraying her husband we will avenge ourselves,” said +Auguste. + +There was still faith in that “if.” The philosophic doubt of Descartes +is a politeness with which we should always honor virtue. Ten o’clock +sounded. The Baron de Maulincour remembered that this woman was going to +a ball that evening at a house to which he had access. He dressed, went +there, and searched for her through all the salons. The mistress of the +house, Madame de Nucingen, seeing him thus occupied, said:-- + +“You are looking for Madame Jules; but she has not yet come.” + +“Good evening, dear,” said a voice. + +Auguste and Madame de Nucingen turned round. Madame Jules had arrived, +dressed in white, looking simple and noble, wearing in her hair the +marabouts the young baron had seen her choose in the flower-shop. That +voice of love now pierced his heart. Had he won the slightest right to +be jealous of her he would have petrified her then and there by saying +the words, “Rue Soly!” But if he, an alien to her life, had said those +words in her ear a thousand times, Madame Jules would have asked him in +astonishment what he meant. He looked at her stupidly. + +For those sarcastic persons who scoff at all things it may be a great +amusement to detect the secret of a woman, to know that her chastity is +a lie, that her calm face hides some anxious thought, that under that +pure brow is a dreadful drama. But there are other souls to whom +the sight is saddening; and many of those who laugh in public, when +withdrawn into themselves and alone with their conscience, curse the +world while they despise the woman. Such was the case with Auguste de +Maulincour, as he stood there in presence of Madame Jules. Singular +situation! There was no other relation between them than that which +social life establishes between persons who exchange a few words seven +or eight times in the course of a winter, and yet he was calling her +to account on behalf of a happiness unknown to her; he was judging her, +without letting her know of his accusation. + +Many young men find themselves thus in despair at having broken forever +with a woman adored in secret, condemned and despised in secret. There +are many hidden monologues told to the walls of some solitary lodging; +storms roused and calmed without ever leaving the depths of hearts; +amazing scenes of the moral world, for which a painter is wanted. Madame +Jules sat down, leaving her husband to make a turn around the salon. +After she was seated she seemed uneasy, and, while talking with her +neighbor, she kept a furtive eye on Monsieur Jules Desmarets, her +husband, a broker chiefly employed by the Baron de Nucingen. The +following is the history of their home life. + +Monsieur Desmarets was, five years before his marriage, in a broker’s +office, with no other means than the meagre salary of a clerk. But he +was a man to whom misfortune had early taught the truths of life, and he +followed the strait path with the tenacity of an insect making for its +nest; he was one of those dogged young men who feign death before an +obstacle and wear out everybody’s patience with their own beetle-like +perseverance. Thus, young as he was, he had all the republican virtue of +poor peoples; he was sober, saving of his time, an enemy to pleasure. +He waited. Nature had given him the immense advantage of an agreeable +exterior. His calm, pure brow, the shape of his placid, but expressive +face, his simple manners,--all revealed in him a laborious and resigned +existence, that lofty personal dignity which is imposing to others, +and the secret nobility of heart which can meet all events. His modesty +inspired a sort of respect in those who knew him. Solitary in the midst +of Paris, he knew the social world only by glimpses during the brief +moments which he spent in his patron’s salon on holidays. + +There were passions in this young man, as in most of the men who live +in that way, of amazing profundity,--passions too vast to be drawn into +petty incidents. His want of means compelled him to lead an ascetic +life, and he conquered his fancies by hard work. After paling all day +over figures, he found his recreation in striving obstinately to acquire +that wide general knowledge so necessary in these days to every man who +wants to make his mark, whether in society, or in commerce, at the bar, +or in politics or literature. The only peril these fine souls have to +fear comes from their own uprightness. They see some poor girl; they +love her; they marry her, and wear out their lives in a struggle between +poverty and love. The noblest ambition is quenched perforce by the +household account-book. Jules Desmarets went headlong into this peril. + +He met one evening at his patron’s house a girl of the rarest beauty. +Unfortunate men who are deprived of affection, and who consume the +finest hours of youth in work and study, alone know the rapid ravages +that passion makes in their lonely, misconceived hearts. They are so +certain of loving truly, all their forces are concentrated so quickly on +the object of their love, that they receive, while beside her, the most +delightful sensations, when, as often happens, they inspire none at +all. Nothing is more flattering to a woman’s egotism than to divine this +passion, apparently immovable, and these emotions so deep that they have +needed a great length of time to reach the human surface. These poor +men, anchorites in the midst of Paris, have all the enjoyments of +anchorites; and may sometimes succumb to temptations. But, more often +deceived, betrayed, and misunderstood, they are rarely able to gather +the sweet fruits of a love which, to them, is like a flower dropped from +heaven. + +One smile from his wife, a single inflection of her voice sufficed to +make Jules Desmarets conceive a passion which was boundless. Happily, +the concentrated fire of that secret passion revealed itself artlessly +to the woman who inspired it. These two beings then loved each other +religiously. To express all in a word, they clasped hands without shame +before the eyes of the world and went their way like two children, +brother and sister, passing serenely through a crowd where all made way +for them and admired them. + +The young girl was in one of those unfortunate positions which human +selfishness entails upon children. She had no civil status; her name of +“Clemence” and her age were recorded only by a notary public. As for +her fortune, that was small indeed. Jules Desmarets was a happy man +on hearing these particulars. If Clemence had belonged to an opulent +family, he might have despaired of obtaining her; but she was only the +poor child of love, the fruit of some terrible adulterous passion; and +they were married. Then began for Jules Desmarets a series of fortunate +events. Every one envied his happiness; and henceforth talked only of +his luck, without recalling either his virtues or his courage. + +Some days after their marriage, the mother of Clemence, who passed in +society for her godmother, told Jules Desmarets to buy the office and +good-will of a broker, promising to provide him with the necessary +capital. In those days, such offices could still be bought at a modest +price. That evening, in the salon as it happened of his patron, a +wealthy capitalist proposed, on the recommendation of the mother, a very +advantageous transaction for Jules Desmarets, and the next day the happy +clerk was able to buy out his patron. In four years Desmarets became one +of the most prosperous men in his business; new clients increased the +number his predecessor had left to him; he inspired confidence in all; +and it was impossible for him not to feel, by the way business came +to him, that some hidden influence, due to his mother-in-law, or to +Providence, was secretly protecting him. + +At the end of the third year Clemence lost her godmother. By that time +Monsieur Jules (so called to distinguish him from an elder brother, whom +he had set up as a notary in Paris) possessed an income from invested +property of two hundred thousand francs. There was not in all Paris +another instance of the domestic happiness enjoyed by this couple. +For five years their exceptional love had been troubled by only one +event,--a calumny for which Monsieur Jules exacted vengeance. One of his +former comrades attributed to Madame Jules the fortune of her husband, +explaining that it came from a high protection dearly paid for. The man +who uttered the calumny was killed in the duel that followed it. + +The profound passion of this couple, which survived marriage, obtained +a great success in society, though some women were annoyed by it. The +charming household was respected; everybody feted it. Monsieur and +Madame Jules were sincerely liked, perhaps because there is nothing more +delightful to see than happy people; but they never stayed long at any +festivity. They slipped away early, as impatient to regain their nest +as wandering pigeons. This nest was a large and beautiful mansion in the +rue de Menars, where a true feeling for art tempered the luxury which +the financial world continues, traditionally, to display. Here the happy +pair received their society magnificently, although the obligations of +social life suited them but little. + +Nevertheless, Jules submitted to the demands of the world, knowing +that, sooner or later, a family has need of it; but he and his wife felt +themselves, in its midst, like green-house plants in a tempest. With a +delicacy that was very natural, Jules had concealed from his wife the +calumny and the death of the calumniator. Madame Jules, herself, was +inclined, through her sensitive and artistic nature, to desire luxury. +In spite of the terrible lesson of the duel, some imprudent women +whispered to each other that Madame Jules must sometimes be pressed for +money. They often found her more elegantly dressed in her own home than +when she went into society. She loved to adorn herself to please her +husband, wishing to show him that to her he was more than any social +life. A true love, a pure love, above all, a happy love! Jules, always a +lover, and more in love as time went by, was happy in all things beside +his wife, even in her caprices; in fact, he would have been uneasy if +she had none, thinking it a symptom of some illness. + +Auguste de Maulincour had the personal misfortune of running against +this passion, and falling in love with the wife beyond recovery. +Nevertheless, though he carried in his heart so intense a love, he was +not ridiculous; he complied with all the demands of society, and of +military manners and customs. And yet his face wore constantly, even +though he might be drinking a glass of champagne, that dreamy look, that +air of silently despising life, that nebulous expression which belongs, +though for other reasons, to _blases_ men,--men dissatisfied with hollow +lives. To love without hope, to be disgusted with life, constitute, in +these days, a social position. The enterprise of winning the heart of +a sovereign might give, perhaps, more hope than a love rashly conceived +for a happy woman. Therefore Maulincour had sufficient reason to be +grave and gloomy. A queen has the vanity of her power; the height of her +elevation protects her. But a pious _bourgeoise_ is like a hedgehog, or +an oyster, in its rough wrappings. + +At this moment the young officer was beside his unconscious mistress, +who certainly was unaware that she was doubly faithless. Madame +Jules was seated, in a naive attitude, like the least artful woman in +existence, soft and gentle, full of a majestic serenity. What an abyss +is human nature! Before beginning a conversation, the baron looked +alternately at the wife and at the husband. How many were the +reflections he made! He recomposed the “Night Thoughts” of Young in a +second. And yet the music was sounding through the salons, the light was +pouring from a thousand candles. It was a banker’s ball,--one of those +insolent festivals by means of which the world of solid gold endeavored +to sneer at the gold-embossed salons where the faubourg Saint-Germain +met and laughed, not foreseeing the day when the bank would invade the +Luxembourg and take its seat upon the throne. The conspirators were now +dancing, indifferent to coming bankruptcies, whether of Power or of +the Bank. The gilded salons of the Baron de Nucingen were gay with that +peculiar animation that the world of Paris, apparently joyous at any +rate, gives to its fetes. There, men of talent communicate their wit to +fools, and fools communicate that air of enjoyment that characterizes +them. By means of this exchange all is liveliness. But a ball in Paris +always resembles fireworks to a certain extent; wit, coquetry, and +pleasure sparkle and go out like rockets. The next day all present have +forgotten their wit, their coquetry, their pleasure. + +“Ah!” thought Auguste, by way of conclusion, “women are what the vidame +says they are. Certainly all those dancing here are less irreproachable +actually than Madame Jules appears to be, and yet Madame Jules went to +the rue Soly!” + +The rue Soly was like an illness to him; the very word shrivelled his +heart. + +“Madame, do you ever dance?” he said to her. + +“This is the third time you have asked me that question this winter,” + she answered, smiling. + +“But perhaps you have never answered it.” + +“That is true.” + +“I knew very well that you were false, like other women.” + +Madame Jules continued to smile. + +“Listen, monsieur,” she said; “if I told you the real reason, you would +think it ridiculous. I do not think it false to abstain from telling +things that the world would laugh at.” + +“All secrets demand, in order to be told, a friendship of which I am no +doubt unworthy, madame. But you cannot have any but noble secrets; do +you think me capable of jesting on noble things?” + +“Yes,” she said, “you, like all the rest, laugh at our purest +sentiments; you calumniate them. Besides, I have no secrets. I have the +right to love my husband in the face of all the world, and I say so,--I +am proud of it; and if you laugh at me when I tell you that I dance only +with him, I shall have a bad opinion of your heart.” + +“Have you never danced since your marriage with any one but your +husband?” + +“Never. His arm is the only one on which I have leaned; I have never +felt the touch of another man.” + +“Has your physician never felt your pulse?” + +“Now you are laughing at me.” + +“No, madame, I admire you, because I comprehend you. But you let a man +hear your voice, you let yourself be seen, you--in short, you permit our +eyes to admire you--” + +“Ah!” she said, interrupting him, “that is one of my griefs. Yes, I wish +it were possible for a married woman to live secluded with her husband, +as a mistress lives with her lover, for then--” + +“Then why were you, two hours ago, on foot, disguised, in the rue Soly?” + +“The rue Soly, where is that?” + +And her pure voice gave no sign of any emotion; no feature of her face +quivered; she did not blush; she remained calm. + +“What! you did not go up to the second floor of a house in the rue +des Vieux-Augustins at the corner of the rue Soly? You did not have +a hackney-coach waiting near by? You did not return in it to the +flower-shop in the rue Richelieu, where you bought the feathers that are +now in your hair?” + +“I did not leave my house this evening.” + +As she uttered that lie she was smiling and imperturbable; she played +with her fan; but if any one had passed a hand down her back they would, +perhaps, have found it moist. At that instant Auguste remembered the +instructions of the vidame. + +“Then it was some one who strangely resembled you,” he said, with a +credulous air. + +“Monsieur,” she replied, “if you are capable of following a woman and +detecting her secrets, you will allow me to say that it is a wrong, a +very wrong thing, and I do you the honor to say that I disbelieve you.” + +The baron turned away, placed himself before the fireplace and seemed +thoughtful. He bent his head; but his eyes were covertly fixed on Madame +Jules, who, not remembering the reflections in the mirror, cast two or +three glances at him that were full of terror. Presently she made a sign +to her husband and rising took his arm to walk about the salon. As she +passed before Monsieur de Maulincour, who at that moment was speaking +to a friend, he said in a loud voice, as if in reply to a remark: +“That woman will certainly not sleep quietly this night.” Madame +Jules stopped, gave him an imposing look which expressed contempt, +and continued her way, unaware that another look, if surprised by her +husband, might endanger not only her happiness but the lives of two men. +Auguste, frantic with anger, which he tried to smother in the depths of +his soul, presently left the house, swearing to penetrate to the heart +of the mystery. Before leaving, he sought Madame Jules, to look at her +again; but she had disappeared. + +What a drama cast into that young head so eminently romantic, like all +who have not known love in the wide extent which they give to it. He +adored Madame Jules under a new aspect; he loved her now with the fury +of jealousy and the frenzied anguish of hope. Unfaithful to her husband, +the woman became common. Auguste could now give himself up to the +joys of successful love, and his imagination opened to him a career +of pleasures. Yes, he had lost the angel, but he had found the most +delightful of demons. He went to bed, building castles in the air, +excusing Madame Jules by some romantic fiction in which he did not +believe. He resolved to devote himself wholly, from that day forth, to +a search for the causes, motives, and keynote of this mystery. It was a +tale to read, or better still, a drama to be played, in which he had a +part. + + + + +CHAPTER II. FERRAGUS + + +A fine thing is the task of a spy, when performed for one’s own benefit +and in the interests of a passion. Is it not giving ourselves the +pleasure of a thief and a rascal while continuing honest men? But there +is another side to it; we must resign ourselves to boil with anger, to +roar with impatience, to freeze our feet in the mud, to be numbed, and +roasted, and torn by false hopes. We must go, on the faith of a mere +indication, to a vague object, miss our end, curse our luck, improvise +to ourselves elegies, dithyrambics, exclaim idiotically before +inoffensive pedestrians who observe us, knock over old apple-women and +their baskets, run hither and thither, stand on guard beneath a window, +make a thousand suppositions. But, after all, it is a chase, a hunt; a +hunt in Paris, a hunt with all its chances, minus dogs and guns and +the tally-ho! Nothing compares with it but the life of gamblers. But +it needs a heart big with love and vengeance to ambush itself in Paris, +like a tiger waiting to spring upon its prey, and to enjoy the chances +and contingencies of Paris, by adding one special interest to the many +that abound there. But for this we need a many-sided soul--for must we +not live in a thousand passions, a thousand sentiments? + +Auguste de Maulincour flung himself into this ardent existence +passionately, for he felt all its pleasures and all its misery. He went +disguised about Paris, watching at the corners of the rue Pagevin and +the rue des Vieux-Augustins. He hurried like a hunter from the rue de +Menars to the rue Soly, and back from the rue Soly to the rue de Menars, +without obtaining either the vengeance or the knowledge which would +punish or reward such cares, such efforts, such wiles. But he had not +yet reached that impatience which wrings our very entrails and makes us +sweat; he roamed in hope, believing that Madame Jules would only refrain +for a few days from revisiting the place where she knew she had been +detected. He devoted the first days therefore, to a careful study of +the secrets of the street. A novice at such work, he dared not question +either the porter or the shoemaker of the house to which Madame Jules +had gone; but he managed to obtain a post of observation in a house +directly opposite to the mysterious apartment. He studied the ground, +trying to reconcile the conflicting demands of prudence, impatience, +love, and secrecy. + +Early in the month of March, while busy with plans by which he expected +to strike a decisive blow, he left his post about four in the afternoon, +after one of those patient watches from which he had learned nothing. +He was on his way to his own house whither a matter relating to +his military service called him, when he was overtaken in the rue +Coquilliere by one of those heavy showers which instantly flood the +gutters, while each drop of rain rings loudly in the puddles of the +roadway. A pedestrian under these circumstances is forced to stop short +and take refuge in a shop or cafe if he is rich enough to pay for +the forced hospitality, or, if in poorer circumstances, under a +_porte-cochere_, that haven of paupers or shabbily dressed persons. Why +have none of our painters ever attempted to reproduce the physiognomies +of a swarm of Parisians, grouped, under stress of weather, in the damp +_porte-cochere_ of a building? First, there’s the musing philosophical +pedestrian, who observes with interest all he sees,--whether it be the +stripes made by the rain on the gray background of the atmosphere (a +species of chasing not unlike the capricious threads of spun glass), or +the whirl of white water which the wind is driving like a luminous +dust along the roofs, or the fitful disgorgements of the gutter-pipes, +sparkling and foaming; in short, the thousand nothings to be admired and +studied with delight by loungers, in spite of the porter’s broom which +pretends to be sweeping out the gateway. Then there’s the talkative +refugee, who complains and converses with the porter while he rests on +his broom like a grenadier on his musket; or the pauper wayfarer, curled +against the wall indifferent to the condition of his rags, long used, +alas, to contact with the streets; or the learned pedestrian who +studies, spells, and reads the posters on the walls without finishing +them; or the smiling pedestrian who makes fun of others to whom some +street fatality has happened, who laughs at the muddy women, and makes +grimaces at those of either sex who are looking from the windows; and +the silent being who gazes from floor to floor; and the working-man, +armed with a satchel or a paper bundle, who is estimating the rain as a +profit or loss; and the good-natured fugitive, who arrives like a shot +exclaiming, “Ah! what weather, messieurs, what weather!” and bows +to every one; and, finally, the true _bourgeois_ of Paris, with his +unfailing umbrella, an expert in showers, who foresaw this particular +one, but would come out in spite of his wife; this one takes a seat in +the porter’s chair. According to individual character, each member of +this fortuitous society contemplates the skies, and departs, skipping +to avoid the mud,--because he is in a hurry, or because he sees other +citizens walking along in spite of wind and slush, or because, the +archway being damp and mortally catarrhal, the bed’s edge, as the +proverb says, is better than the sheets. Each one has his motive. No one +is left but the prudent pedestrian, the man who, before he sets forth, +makes sure of a scrap of blue sky through the rifting clouds. + +Monsieur de Maulincour took refuge, as we have said, with a whole family +of fugitives, under the porch of an old house, the court-yard of +which looked like the flue of a chimney. The sides of its plastered, +nitrified, and mouldy walls were so covered with pipes and conduits from +all the many floors of its four elevations, that it might have been +said to resemble at that moment the _cascatelles_ of Saint-Cloud. Water +flowed everywhere; it boiled, it leaped, it murmured; it was black, +white, blue, and green; it shrieked, it bubbled under the broom of the +portress, a toothless old woman used to storms, who seemed to bless them +as she swept into the street a mass of scraps an intelligent inventory +of which would have revealed the lives and habits of every dweller +in the house,--bits of printed cottons, tea-leaves, artificial +flower-petals faded and worthless, vegetable parings, papers, scraps of +metal. At every sweep of her broom the old woman bared the soul of the +gutter, that black fissure on which a porter’s mind is ever bent. The +poor lover examined this scene, like a thousand others which our heaving +Paris presents daily; but he examined it mechanically, as a man absorbed +in thought, when, happening to look up, he found himself all but nose to +nose with a man who had just entered the gateway. + +In appearance this man was a beggar, but not the Parisian beggar,--that +creation without a name in human language; no, this man formed another +type, while presenting on the outside all the ideas suggested by +the word “beggar.” He was not marked by those original Parisian +characteristics which strike us so forcibly in the paupers whom Charlet +was fond of representing, with his rare luck in observation,--coarse +faces reeking of mud, hoarse voices, reddened and bulbous noses, mouths +devoid of teeth but menacing; humble yet terrible beings, in whom a +profound intelligence shining in their eyes seems like a contradiction. +Some of these bold vagabonds have blotched, cracked, veiny skins; their +foreheads are covered with wrinkles, their hair scanty and dirty, like +a wig thrown on a dust-heap. All are gay in their degradation, and +degraded in their joys; all are marked with the stamp of debauchery, +casting their silence as a reproach; their very attitude revealing +fearful thoughts. Placed between crime and beggary they have no +compunctions, and circle prudently around the scaffold without mounting +it, innocent in the midst of crime, and vicious in their innocence. They +often cause a laugh, but they always cause reflection. One represents +to you civilization stunted, repressed; he comprehends everything, the +honor of the galleys, patriotism, virtue, the malice of a vulgar crime, +or the fine astuteness of elegant wickedness. Another is resigned, a +perfect mimer, but stupid. All have slight yearnings after order and +work, but they are pushed back into their mire by society, which makes +no inquiry as to what there may be of great men, poets, intrepid souls, +and splendid organizations among these vagrants, these gypsies of Paris; +a people eminently good and eminently evil--like all the masses who +suffer--accustomed to endure unspeakable woes, and whom a fatal power +holds ever down to the level of the mire. They all have a dream, a hope, +a happiness,--cards, lottery, or wine. + +There was nothing of all this in the personage who now leaned carelessly +against the wall in front of Monsieur de Maulincour, like some fantastic +idea drawn by an artist on the back of a canvas the front of which is +turned to the wall. This tall, spare man, whose leaden visage expressed +some deep but chilling thought, dried up all pity in the hearts of those +who looked at him by the scowling look and the sarcastic attitude which +announced an intention of treating every man as an equal. His face was +of a dirty white, and his wrinkled skull, denuded of hair, bore a vague +resemblance to a block of granite. A few gray locks on either side +of his head fell straight to the collar of his greasy coat, which was +buttoned to the chin. He resembled both Voltaire and Don Quixote; +he was, apparently, scoffing but melancholy, full of disdain and +philosophy, but half-crazy. He seemed to have no shirt. His beard was +long. A rusty black cravat, much worn and ragged, exposed a protuberant +neck deeply furrowed, with veins as thick as cords. A large brown circle +like a bruise was strongly marked beneath his eyes, He seemed to be at +least sixty years old. His hands were white and clean. His boots were +trodden down at the heels, and full of holes. A pair of blue trousers, +mended in various places, were covered with a species of fluff which +made them offensive to the eye. Whether it was that his damp clothes +exhaled a fetid odor, or that he had in his normal condition the “poor +smell” which belongs to Parisian tenements, just as offices, sacristies, +and hospitals have their own peculiar and rancid fetidness, of which +no words can give the least idea, or whether some other reason affected +them, those in the vicinity of this man immediately moved away and +left him alone. He cast upon them and also upon the officer a calm, +expressionless look, the celebrated look of Monsieur de Talleyrand, +a dull, wan glance, without warmth, a species of impenetrable veil, +beneath which a strong soul hides profound emotions and close estimation +of men and things and events. Not a fold of his face quivered. His mouth +and forehead were impassible; but his eyes moved and lowered themselves +with a noble, almost tragic slowness. There was, in fact, a whole drama +in the motion of those withered eyelids. + +The aspect of this stoical figure gave rise in Monsieur de Maulincour +to one of those vagabond reveries which begin with a common question and +end by comprising a world of thought. The storm was past. Monsieur de +Maulincour presently saw no more of the man than the tail of his coat +as it brushed the gate-post, but as he turned to leave his own place +he noticed at his feet a letter which must have fallen from the unknown +beggar when he took, as the baron had seen him take, a handkerchief from +his pocket. The young man picked it up, and read, involuntarily, the +address: “To Monsieur Ferragusse, Rue des Grands-Augustains, corner of +rue Soly.” + +The letter bore no postmark, and the address prevented Monsieur de +Maulincour from following the beggar and returning it; for there are few +passions that will not fail in rectitude in the long run. The baron +had a presentiment of the opportunity afforded by this windfall. He +determined to keep the letter, which would give him the right to enter +the mysterious house to return it to the strange man, not doubting that +he lived there. Suspicions, vague as the first faint gleams of daylight, +made him fancy relations between this man and Madame Jules. A jealous +lover supposes everything; and it is by supposing everything and +selecting the most probable of their conjectures that judges, spies, +lovers, and observers get at the truth they are looking for. + +“Is the letter for him? Is it from Madame Jules?” + +His restless imagination tossed a thousand such questions to him; +but when he read the first words of the letter he smiled. Here it +is, textually, in all the simplicity of its artless phrases and its +miserable orthography,--a letter to which it would be impossible to add +anything, or to take anything away, unless it were the letter itself. +But we have yielded to the necessity of punctuating it. In the original +there were neither commas nor stops of any kind, not even notes of +exclamation,--a fact which tends to undervalue the system of notes +and dashes by which modern authors have endeavored to depict the great +disasters of all the passions:-- + + + Henry,--Among the manny sacrifisis I imposed upon myself for your + sake was that of not giving you anny news of me; but an + iresistible voise now compells me to let you know the wrong you + have done me. I know beforehand that your soul hardened in vise + will not pitty me. Your heart is deaf to feeling. Is it deaf to + the cries of nature? But what matter? I must tell you to what a + dredful point you are gilty, and the horror of the position to + which you have brought me. Henry, you knew what I sufered from my + first wrong-doing, and yet you plunged me into the same misery, + and then abbandoned me to my dispair and sufering. Yes, I will say + it, the belif I had that you loved me and esteemed me gave me + corage to bare my fate. But now, what have I left? Have you not + made me loose all that was dear to me, all that held me to life; + parents, frends, onor, reputation,--all, I have sacrifised all to + you, and nothing is left me but shame, oprobrum, and--I say this + without blushing--poverty. Nothing was wanting to my misfortunes + but the sertainty of your contempt and hatred; and now I have them + I find the corage that my project requires. My decision is made; + the onor of my famly commands it. I must put an end to my + suferins. Make no remarks upon my conduct, Henry; it is orful, I + know, but my condition obliges me. Without help, without suport, + without one frend to comfort me, can I live? No. Fate has desided + for me. So in two days, Henry, two days, Ida will have seased to + be worthy of your regard. Oh, Henry! oh, my frend! for I can never + change to you, promise me to forgive me for what I am going to do. + Do not forget that you have driven me to it; it is your work, and + you must judge it. May heven not punish you for all your crimes. I + ask your pardon on my knees, for I feel nothing is wanting to my + misery but the sorow of knowing you unhappy. In spite of the + poverty I am in I shall refuse all help from you. If you had loved + me I would have taken all from your friendship; but a benfit given + by pitty _my soul refussis_. I would be baser to take it than he + who offered it. I have one favor to ask of you. I don’t know how + long I must stay at Madame Meynardie’s; be genrous enough not to + come there. Your last two vissits did me a harm I cannot get ofer. + I cannot enter into particlers about that conduct of yours. You + hate me,--you said so; that word is writen on my heart, and + freeses it with fear. Alas! it is now, when I need all my corage, + all my strength, that my faculties abandon me. Henry, my frend, + before I put a barrier forever between us, give me a last pruf of + your esteem. Write me, answer me, say you respect me still, though + you have seased to love me. My eyes are worthy still to look into + yours, but I do not ask an interfew; I fear my weakness and my + love. But for pitty’s sake write me a line at once; it will give + me the corage I need to meet my trubbles. Farewell, orther of all + my woes, but the only frend my heart has chosen and will never + forget. + +Ida. + + +This life of a young girl, with its love betrayed, its fatal joys, its +pangs, its miseries, and its horrible resignation, summed up in a few +words, this humble poem, essentially Parisian, written on dirty paper, +influenced for a passing moment Monsieur de Maulincour. He asked himself +whether this Ida might not be some poor relation of Madame Jules, and +that strange rendezvous, which he had witnessed by chance, the mere +necessity of a charitable effort. But could that old pauper have seduced +this Ida? There was something impossible in the very idea. Wandering in +this labyrinth of reflections, which crossed, recrossed, and obliterated +one another, the baron reached the rue Pagevin, and saw a hackney-coach +standing at the end of the rue des Vieux-Augustins where it enters the +rue Montmartre. All waiting hackney-coaches now had an interest for him. + +“Can she be there?” he thought to himself, and his heart beat fast with +a hot and feverish throbbing. + +He pushed the little door with the bell, but he lowered his head as he +did so, obeying a sense of shame, for a voice said to him secretly:-- + +“Why are you putting your foot into this mystery?” + +He went up a few steps, and found himself face to face with the old +portress. + +“Monsieur Ferragus?” he said. + +“Don’t know him.” + +“Doesn’t Monsieur Ferragus live here?” + +“Haven’t such a name in the house.” + +“But, my good woman--” + +“I’m not your good woman, monsieur, I’m the portress.” + +“But, madame,” persisted the baron, “I have a letter for Monsieur +Ferragus.” + +“Ah! if monsieur has a letter,” she said, changing her tone, “that’s +another matter. Will you let me see it--that letter?” + +Auguste showed the folded letter. The old woman shook her head with a +doubtful air, hesitated, seemed to wish to leave the lodge and inform +the mysterious Ferragus of his unexpected visitor, but finally said:-- + +“Very good; go up, monsieur. I suppose you know the way?” + +Without replying to this remark, which he thought might be a trap, the +young officer ran lightly up the stairway, and rang loudly at the door +of the second floor. His lover’s instinct told him, “She is there.” + +The beggar of the porch, Ferragus, the “orther” of Ida’s woes, opened +the door himself. He appeared in a flowered dressing-gown, white flannel +trousers, his feet in embroidered slippers, and his face washed clean of +stains. Madame Jules, whose head projected beyond the casing of the door +in the next room, turned pale and dropped into a chair. + +“What is the matter, madame?” cried the officer, springing toward her. + +But Ferragus stretched forth an arm and flung the intruder back with so +sharp a thrust that Auguste fancied he had received a blow with an iron +bar full on his chest. + +“Back! monsieur,” said the man. “What do you want there? For five or six +days you have been roaming about the neighborhood. Are you a spy?” + +“Are you Monsieur Ferragus?” said the baron. + +“No, monsieur.” + +“Nevertheless,” continued Auguste, “it is to you that I must return this +paper which you dropped in the gateway beneath which we both took refuge +from the rain.” + +While speaking and offering the letter to the man, Auguste did not +refrain from casting an eye around the room where Ferragus received him. +It was very well arranged, though simply. A fire burned on the hearth; +and near it was a table with food upon it, which was served more +sumptuously than agreed with the apparent conditions of the man and the +poorness of his lodging. On a sofa in the next room, which he could +see through the doorway, lay a heap of gold, and he heard a sound which +could be no other than that of a woman weeping. + +“The paper belongs to me; I am much obliged to you,” said the mysterious +man, turning away as if to make the baron understand that he must go. + +Too curious himself to take much note of the deep examination of which +he was himself the object, Auguste did not see the half-magnetic glance +with which this strange being seemed to pierce him; had he encountered +that basilisk eye he might have felt the danger that encompassed him. +Too passionately excited to think of himself, Auguste bowed, went +down the stairs, and returned home, striving to find a meaning in the +connection of these three persons,--Ida, Ferragus, and Madame Jules; +an occupation equivalent to that of trying to arrange the many-cornered +bits of a Chinese puzzle without possessing the key to the game. But +Madame Jules had seen him, Madame Jules went there, Madame Jules had +lied to him. Maulincour determined to go and see her the next day. She +could not refuse his visit, for he was now her accomplice; he was hands +and feet in the mysterious affair, and she knew it. Already he +felt himself a sultan, and thought of demanding from Madame Jules, +imperiously, all her secrets. + +In those days Paris was seized with a building-fever. If Paris is +a monster, it is certainly a most mania-ridden monster. It becomes +enamored of a thousand fancies: sometimes it has a mania for building, +like a great seigneur who loves a trowel; soon it abandons the trowel +and becomes all military; it arrays itself from head to foot as a +national guard, and drills and smokes; suddenly, it abandons military +manoeuvres and flings away cigars; it is commercial, care-worn, falls +into bankruptcy, sells its furniture on the place de Chatelet, files its +schedule; but a few days later, lo! it has arranged its affairs and is +giving fetes and dances. One day it eats barley-sugar by the mouthful, +by the handful; yesterday it bought “papier Weymen”; to-day the +monster’s teeth ache, and it applies to its walls an alexipharmatic +to mitigate their dampness; to-morrow it will lay in a provision of +pectoral paste. It has its manias for the month, for the season, for the +year, like its manias of a day. + +So, at the moment of which we speak, all the world was building or +pulling down something,--people hardly knew what as yet. There were very +few streets in which high scaffoldings on long poles could not be seen, +fastened from floor to floor with transverse blocks inserted into holes +in the walls on which the planks were laid,--a frail construction, +shaken by the brick-layers, but held together by ropes, white with +plaster, and insecurely protected from the wheels of carriages by the +breastwork of planks which the law requires round all such buildings. +There is something maritime in these masts, and ladders, and cordage, +even in the shouts of the masons. About a dozen yards from the hotel +Maulincour, one of these ephemeral barriers was erected before a house +which was then being built of blocks of free-stone. The day after the +event we have just related, at the moment when the Baron de Maulincour +was passing this scaffolding in his cabriolet on his way to see Madame +Jules, a stone, two feet square, which was being raised to the upper +storey of this building, got loose from the ropes and fell, crushing the +baron’s servant who was behind the cabriolet. A cry of horror shook both +the scaffold and the masons; one of them, apparently unable to keep his +grasp on a pole, was in danger of death, and seemed to have been touched +by the stone as it passed him. + +A crowd collected rapidly; the masons came down the ladders swearing +and insisting that Monsieur de Maulincour’s cabriolet had been driven +against the boarding and so had shaken their crane. Two inches more and +the stone would have fallen on the baron’s head. The groom was dead, +the carriage shattered. ‘Twas an event for the whole neighborhood, the +newspapers told of it. Monsieur de Maulincour, certain that he had not +touched the boarding, complained; the case went to court. Inquiry being +made, it was shown that a small boy, armed with a lath, had mounted +guard and called to all foot-passengers to keep away. The affair ended +there. Monsieur de Maulincour obtained no redress. He had lost his +servant, and was confined to his bed for some days, for the back of the +carriage when shattered had bruised him severely, and the nervous shock +of the sudden surprise gave him a fever. He did not, therefore, go to +see Madame Jules. + +Ten days after this event, he left the house for the first time, in his +repaired cabriolet, when, as he drove down the rue de Bourgogne and was +close to the sewer opposite to the Chamber of Deputies, the axle-tree +broke in two, and the baron was driving so rapidly that the breakage +would have caused the two wheels to come together with force enough to +break his head, had it not been for the resistance of the leather hood. +Nevertheless, he was badly wounded in the side. For the second time in +ten days he was carried home in a fainting condition to his terrified +grandmother. This second accident gave him a feeling of distrust; he +thought, though vaguely, of Ferragus and Madame Jules. To throw light on +these suspicions he had the broken axle brought to his room and sent +for his carriage-maker. The man examined the axle and the fracture, +and proved two things: First, the axle was not made in his workshop; he +furnished none that did not bear the initials of his name on the iron. +But he could not explain by what means this axle had been substituted +for the other. Secondly, the breakage of the suspicious axle was caused +by a hollow space having been blown in it and a straw very cleverly +inserted. + +“Eh! Monsieur le baron, whoever did that was malicious!” he said; “any +one would swear, to look at it, that the axle was sound.” + +Monsieur de Maulincour begged the carriage-maker to say nothing of the +affair; but he felt himself warned. These two attempts at murder were +planned with an ability which denoted the enmity of intelligent minds. + +“It is war to the death,” he said to himself, as he tossed in his +bed,--“a war of savages, skulking in ambush, of trickery and treachery, +declared in the name of Madame Jules. What sort of man is this to whom +she belongs? What species of power does this Ferragus wield?” + +Monsieur de Maulincour, though a soldier and brave man, could not +repress a shudder. In the midst of many thoughts that now assailed him, +there was one against which he felt he had neither defence nor courage: +might not poison be employed ere long by his secret enemies? Under the +influence of fears, which his momentary weakness and fever and low diet +increased, he sent for an old woman long attached to the service of his +grandmother, whose affection for himself was one of those semi-maternal +sentiments which are the sublime of the commonplace. Without confiding +in her wholly, he charged her to buy secretly and daily, in different +localities, the food he needed; telling her to keep it under lock and +key and bring it to him herself, not allowing any one, no matter who, to +approach her while preparing it. He took the most minute precautions to +protect himself against that form of death. He was ill in his bed +and alone, and he had therefore the leisure to think of his own +security,--the one necessity clear-sighted enough to enable human +egotism to forget nothing! + +But the unfortunate man had poisoned his own life by this dread, and, +in spite of himself, suspicion dyed all his hours with its gloomy tints. +These two lessons of attempted assassination did teach him, however, the +value of one of the virtues most necessary to a public man; he saw the +wise dissimulation that must be practised in dealing with the great +interests of life. To be silent about our own secret is nothing; but to +be silent from the start, to forget a fact as Ali Pacha did for thirty +years in order to be sure of a vengeance waited for for thirty years, +is a fine study in a land where there are few men who can keep their +own counsel for thirty days. Monsieur de Maulincour literally lived only +through Madame Jules. He was perpetually absorbed in a sober examination +into the means he ought to employ to triumph in this mysterious struggle +with these mysterious persons. His secret passion for that woman grew +by reason of all these obstacles. Madame Jules was ever there, erect, in +the midst of his thoughts, in the centre of his heart, more seductive by +her presumable vices than by the positive virtues for which he had made +her his idol. + +At last, anxious to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, he thought +he might without danger initiate the vidame into the secrets of his +situation. The old commander loved Auguste as a father loves his wife’s +children; he was shrewd, dexterous, and very diplomatic. He listened to +the baron, shook his head, and they both held counsel. The worthy vidame +did not share his young friend’s confidence when Auguste declared that +in the time in which they now lived, the police and the government were +able to lay bare all mysteries, and that if it were absolutely necessary +to have recourse to those powers, he should find them most powerful +auxiliaries. + +The old man replied, gravely: “The police, my dear boy, is the most +incompetent thing on this earth, and government the feeblest in all +matters concerning individuals. Neither the police nor the government +can read hearts. What we might reasonably ask of them is to search +for the causes of an act. But the police and the government are both +eminently unfitted for that; they lack, essentially, the personal +interest which reveals all to him who wants to know all. No human power +can prevent an assassin or a poisoner from reaching the heart of a +prince or the stomach of an honest man. Passions are the best police.” + +The vidame strongly advised the baron to go to Italy, and from Italy +to Greece, from Greece to Syria, from Syria to Asia, and not to return +until his secret enemies were convinced of his repentance, and would so +make tacit peace with him. But if he did not take that course, then the +vidame advised him to stay in the house, and even in his own room, where +he would be safe from the attempts of this man Ferragus, and not to +leave it until he could be certain of crushing him. + +“We should never touch an enemy until we can be sure of taking his head +off,” he said, gravely. + +The old man, however, promised his favorite to employ all the astuteness +with which Heaven had provided him (without compromising any one) +in reconnoitring the enemy’s ground, and laying his plans for future +victory. The Commander had in his service a retired Figaro, the wiliest +monkey that ever walked in human form; in earlier days as clever as a +devil, working his body like a galley-slave, alert as a thief, sly as a +woman, but now fallen into the decadence of genius for want of practice +since the new constitution of Parisian society, which has reformed even +the valets of comedy. This Scapin emeritus was attached to his master +as to a superior being; but the shrewd old vidame added a good round +sum yearly to the wages of his former provost of gallantry, +which strengthened the ties of natural affection by the bonds of +self-interest, and obtained for the old gentleman as much care as the +most loving mistress could bestow on a sick friend. It was this pearl +of the old-fashioned comedy-valets, relic of the last century, auxiliary +incorruptible from lack of passions to satisfy, on whom the old vidame +and Monsieur de Maulincour now relied. + +“Monsieur le baron will spoil all,” said the great man in livery, when +called into counsel. “Monsieur should eat, drink, and sleep in peace. I +take the whole matter upon myself.” + +Accordingly, eight days after the conference, when Monsieur de +Maulincour, perfectly restored to health, was breakfasting with his +grandmother and the vidame, Justin entered to make his report. As soon +as the dowager had returned to her own apartments he said, with that +mock modesty which men of talent are so apt to affect:-- + +“Ferragus is not the name of the enemy who is pursuing Monsieur le +baron. This man--this devil, rather--is called Gratien, Henri, Victor, +Jean-Joseph Bourignard. The Sieur Gratien Bourignard is a former +ship-builder, once very rich, and, above all, one of the handsomest +men of his day in Paris,--a Lovelace, capable of seducing Grandison. +My information stops short there. He has been a simple workman; and the +Companions of the Order of the Devorants did, at one time, elect him as +their chief, under the title of Ferragus XXIII. The police ought to know +that, if the police were instituted to know anything. The man has moved +from the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and now roosts rue Joquelet, where +Madame Jules Desmarets goes frequently to see him; sometimes her +husband, on his way to the Bourse, drives her as far as the rue +Vivienne, or she drives her husband to the Bourse. Monsieur le vidame +knows about these things too well to want me to tell him if it is the +husband who takes the wife, or the wife who takes the husband; but +Madame Jules is so pretty, I’d bet on her. All that I have told you is +positive. Bourignard often plays at number 129. Saving your presence, +monsieur, he’s a rogue who loves women, and he has his little ways +like a man of condition. As for the rest, he wins sometimes, disguises +himself like an actor, paints his face to look like anything he chooses, +and lives, I may say, the most original life in the world. I don’t doubt +he has a good many lodgings, for most of the time he manages to evade +what Monsieur le vidame calls ‘parliamentary investigations.’ If +monsieur wishes, he could be disposed of honorably, seeing what his +habits are. It is always easy to get rid of a man who loves women. +However, this capitalist talks about moving again. Have Monsieur le +vidame and Monsieur le baron any other commands to give me?” + +“Justin, I am satisfied with you; don’t go any farther in the matter +without my orders, but keep a close watch here, so that Monsieur le +baron may have nothing to fear.” + +“My dear boy,” continued the vidame, when they were alone, “go back to +your old life, and forget Madame Jules.” + +“No, no,” said Auguste; “I will never yield to Gratien Bourignard. I +will have him bound hand and foot, and Madame Jules also.” + +That evening the Baron Auguste de Maulincour, recently promoted to +higher rank in the company of the Body-Guard of the king, went to a +ball given by Madame la Duchesse de Berry at the Elysee-Bourbon. There, +certainly, no danger could lurk for him; and yet, before he left the +palace, he had an affair of honor on his hands,--an affair it was +impossible to settle except by a duel. + +His adversary, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, considered that he had +strong reasons to complain of Monsieur de Maulincour, who had given some +ground for it during his former intimacy with Monsieur de Ronquerolles’ +sister, the Comtesse de Serizy. That lady, the one who detested German +sentimentality, was all the more exacting in the matter of prudery. By +one of those inexplicable fatalities, Auguste now uttered a harmless +jest which Madame de Serizy took amiss, and her brother resented it. The +discussion took place in the corner of a room, in a low voice. In good +society, adversaries never raise their voices. The next day the faubourg +Saint-Germain and the Chateau talked over the affair. Madame de Serizy +was warmly defended, and all the blame was laid on Maulincour. August +personages interfered. Seconds of the highest distinction were imposed +on Messieurs de Maulincour and de Ronquerolles and every precaution was +taken on the ground that no one should be killed. + +When Auguste found himself face to face with his antagonist, a man of +pleasure, to whom no one could possibly deny sentiments of the highest +honor, he felt it was impossible to believe him the instrument of +Ferragus, chief of the Devorants; and yet he was compelled, as it were, +by an inexplicable presentiment, to question the marquis. + +“Messieurs,” he said to the seconds, “I certainly do not refuse to +meet the fire of Monsieur de Ronquerolles; but before doing so, I here +declare that I was to blame, and I offer him whatever excuses he may +desire, and publicly if he wishes it; because when the matter concerns a +woman, nothing, I think, can degrade a man of honor. I therefore appeal +to his generosity and good sense; is there not something rather silly in +fighting without a cause?” + +Monsieur de Ronquerolles would not allow of this way of ending the +affair, and then the baron, his suspicions revived, walked up to him. + +“Well, then! Monsieur le marquis,” he said, “pledge me, in presence of +these gentlemen, your word as a gentleman that you have no other reason +for vengeance than that you have chosen to put forward.” + +“Monsieur, that is a question you have no right to ask.” + +So saying, Monsieur de Ronquerolles took his place. It was agreed, in +advance, that the adversaries were to be satisfied with one exchange +of shots. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, in spite of the great distance +determined by the seconds, which seemed to make the death of either +party problematical, if not impossible, brought down the baron. The ball +went through the latter’s body just below the heart, but fortunately +without doing vital injury. + +“You aimed too well, monsieur,” said the baron, “to be avenging only a +paltry quarrel.” + +And he fainted. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, who believed him to be a dead +man, smiled sardonically as he heard those words. + +After a fortnight, during which time the dowager and the vidame gave +him those cares of old age the secret of which is in the hands of long +experience only, the baron began to return to life. But one morning his +grandmother dealt him a crushing blow, by revealing anxieties to which, +in her last days, she was now subjected. She showed him a letter signed +F, in which the history of her grandson’s secret espionage was recounted +step by step. The letter accused Monsieur de Maulincour of actions that +were unworthy of a man of honor. He had, it said, placed an old woman +at the stand of hackney-coaches in the rue de Menars; an old spy, who +pretended to sell water from her cask to the coachmen, but who was +really there to watch the actions of Madame Jules Desmarets. He had +spied upon the daily life of a most inoffensive man, in order to detect +his secrets,--secrets on which depended the lives of three persons. He +had brought upon himself a relentless struggle, in which, although he +had escaped with life three times, he must inevitably succumb, because +his death had been sworn and would be compassed if all human means were +employed upon it. Monsieur de Maulincour could no longer escape his fate +by even promising to respect the mysterious life of these three persons, +because it was impossible to believe the word of a gentleman who had +fallen to the level of a police-spy; and for what reason? Merely to +trouble the respectable life of an innocent woman and a harmless old +man. + +The letter itself was nothing to Auguste in comparison to the tender +reproaches of his grandmother. To lack respect to a woman! to spy upon +her actions without a right to do so! Ought a man ever to spy upon +a woman whom he loved?--in short, she poured out a torrent of those +excellent reasons which prove nothing; and they put the young baron, +for the first time in his life, into one of those great human furies in +which are born, and from which issue the most vital actions of a man’s +life. + +“Since it is war to the knife,” he said in conclusion, “I shall kill my +enemy by any means that I can lay hold of.” + +The vidame went immediately, at Auguste’s request, to the chief of the +private police of Paris, and without bringing Madame Jules’ name or +person into the narrative, although they were really the gist of it, he +made the official aware of the fears of the family of Maulincour about +this mysterious person who was bold enough to swear the death of an +officer of the Guards, in defiance of the law and the police. The chief +pushed up his green spectacles in amazement, blew his nose several +times, and offered snuff to the vidame, who, to save his dignity, +pretended not to use tobacco, although his own nose was discolored with +it. Then the chief took notes and promised, Vidocq and his spies aiding, +to send in a report within a few days to the Maulincour family, assuring +them meantime that there were no secrets for the police of Paris. + +A few days after this the police official called to see the vidame at +the Hotel de Maulincour, where he found the young baron quite recovered +from his last wound. He gave them in bureaucratic style his thanks for +the indications they had afforded him, and told them that Bourignard was +a convict, condemned to twenty years’ hard labor, who had miraculously +escaped from a gang which was being transported from Bicetre to Toulon. +For thirteen years the police had been endeavoring to recapture him, +knowing that he had boldly returned to Paris; but so far this convict +had escaped the most active search, although he was known to be mixed up +in many nefarious deeds. However, the man, whose life was full of very +curious incidents, would certainly be captured now in one or other of +his several domiciles and delivered up to justice. The bureaucrat ended +his report by saying to Monsieur de Maulincour that if he attached +enough importance to the matter to wish to witness the capture of +Bourignard, he might come the next day at eight in the morning to a +house in the rue Sainte-Foi, of which he gave him the number. Monsieur +de Maulincour excused himself from going personally in search of +certainty,--trusting, with the sacred respect inspired by the police of +Paris, in the capability of the authorities. + +Three days later, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing in the newspapers +about the projected arrest, which was certainly of enough importance to +have furnished an article, Monsieur de Maulincour was beginning to feel +anxieties which were presently allayed by the following letter:-- + + + Monsieur le Baron,--I have the honor to announce to you that you + need have no further uneasiness touching the affair in question. + The man named Gratien Bourignard, otherwise called Ferragus, died + yesterday, at his lodgings, rue Joquelet No. 7. The suspicions we + naturally conceived as to the identity of the dead body have been + completely set at rest by the facts. The physician of the + Prefecture of police was despatched by us to assist the physician + of the arrondissement, and the chief of the detective police made + all the necessary verifications to obtain absolute certainty. + Moreover, the character of the persons who signed the certificate + of death, and the affidavits of those who took care of the said + Bourignard in his last illness, among others that of the worthy + vicar of the church of the Bonne-Nouvelle (to whom he made his + last confession, for he died a Christian), do not permit us to + entertain any sort of doubt. + +Accept, Monsieur le baron, etc., etc. + + +Monsieur de Maulincour, the dowager, and the vidame breathed again with +joy unspeakable. The good old woman kissed her grandson leaving a tear +upon his cheek, and went away to thank God in prayer. The dear soul, +who was making a novena for Auguste’s safety, believed her prayers were +answered. + +“Well,” said the vidame, “now you had better show yourself at the ball +you were speaking of. I oppose no further objections.” + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE WIFE ACCUSED + + +Monsieur de Maulincour was all the more anxious to go to this ball +because he knew that Madame Jules would be present. The fete was given +by the Prefect of the Seine, in whose salons the two social worlds of +Paris met as on neutral ground. Auguste passed through the rooms without +finding the woman who now exercised so mighty an influence on his fate. +He entered an empty boudoir where card-tables were placed awaiting +players; and sitting down on a divan he gave himself up to the most +contradictory thoughts about her. A man presently took the young officer +by the arm, and looking up the baron was stupefied to behold the pauper +of the rue Coquilliere, the Ferragus of Ida, the lodger in the rue Soly, +the Bourignard of Justin, the convict of the police, and the dead man of +the day before. + +“Monsieur, not a sound, not a word,” said Bourignard, whose voice he +recognized. The man was elegantly dressed; he wore the order of the +Golden-Fleece, and a medal on his coat. “Monsieur,” he continued, and +his voice was sibilant like that of a hyena, “you increase my efforts +against you by having recourse to the police. You will perish, monsieur; +it has now become necessary. Do you love Madame Jules? Are you beloved +by her? By what right do you trouble her peaceful life, and blacken her +virtue?” + +Some one entered the card-room. Ferragus rose to go. + +“Do you know this man?” asked Monsieur de Maulincour of the new-comer, +seizing Ferragus by the collar. But Ferragus quickly disengaged himself, +took Monsieur de Maulincour by the hair, and shook his head rapidly. + +“Must you have lead in it to make it steady?” he said. + +“I do not know him personally,” replied Henri de Marsay, the spectator +of this scene, “but I know that he is Monsieur de Funcal, a rich +Portuguese.” + +Monsieur de Funcal had disappeared. The baron followed but without +being able to overtake him until he reached the peristyle, where he +saw Ferragus, who looked at him with a jeering laugh from a brilliant +equipage which was driven away at high speed. + +“Monsieur,” said Auguste, re-entering the salon and addressing de +Marsay, whom he knew, “I entreat you to tell me where Monsieur de Funcal +lives.” + +“I do not know; but some one here can no doubt tell you.” + +The baron, having questioned the prefect, ascertained that the Comte de +Funcal lived at the Portuguese embassy. At this moment, while he still +felt the icy fingers of that strange man in his hair, he saw Madame +Jules in all her dazzling beauty, fresh, gracious, artless, resplendent +with the sanctity of womanhood which had won his love. This creature, +now infernal to him, excited no emotion in his soul but that of hatred; +and this hatred shone in a savage, terrible look from his eyes. He +watched for a moment when he could speak to her unheard, and then he +said:-- + +“Madame, your _bravi_ have missed me three times.” + +“What do you mean, monsieur?” she said, flushing. “I know that you +have had several unfortunate accidents lately, which I have greatly +regretted; but how could I have had anything to do with them?” + +“You knew that _bravi_ were employed against me by that man of the rue +Soly?” + +“Monsieur!” + +“Madame, I now call you to account, not for my happiness only, but for +my blood--” + +At this instant Jules Desmarets approached them. + +“What are you saying to my wife, monsieur?” + +“Make that inquiry at my own house, monsieur, if you are curious,” said +Maulincour, moving away, and leaving Madame Jules in an almost fainting +condition. + +There are few women who have not found themselves, once at least in +their lives, _a propos_ of some undeniable fact, confronted with +a direct, sharp, uncompromising question,--one of those questions +pitilessly asked by husbands, the mere apprehension of which gives +a chill, while the actual words enter the heart like the blade of a +dagger. It is from such crises that the maxim has come, “All women +lie.” Falsehood, kindly falsehood, venial falsehood, sublime falsehood, +horrible falsehood,--but always the necessity to lie. This necessity +admitted, ought they not to know how to lie well? French women do it +admirably. Our manners and customs teach them deception! Besides, +women are so naively saucy, so pretty, graceful, and withal so true +in lying,--they recognize so fully the utility of doing so in order +to avoid in social life the violent shocks which happiness might not +resist,--that lying is seen to be as necessary to their lives as the +cotton-wool in which they put away their jewels. Falsehood becomes to +them the foundation of speech; truth is exceptional; they tell it, if +they are virtuous, by caprice or by calculation. According to individual +character, some women laugh when they lie; others weep; others are +grave; some grow angry. After beginning life by feigning indifference +to the homage that deeply flatters them, they often end by lying to +themselves. Who has not admired their apparent superiority to everything +at the very moment when they are trembling for the secret treasures of +their love? Who has never studied their ease, their readiness, their +freedom of mind in the greatest embarrassments of life? In them, nothing +is put on. Deception comes as the snow from heaven. And then, with what +art they discover the truth in others! With what shrewdness they employ +a direct logic in answer to some passionate question which has revealed +to them the secret of the heart of a man who was guileless enough to +proceed by questioning! To question a woman! why, that is delivering +one’s self up to her; does she not learn in that way all that we seek to +hide from her? Does she not know also how to be dumb, through speaking? +What men are daring enough to struggle with the Parisian woman?--a woman +who knows how to hold herself above all dagger thrusts, saying: “You are +very inquisitive; what is it to you? Why do you wish to know? Ah! you +are jealous! And suppose I do not choose to answer you?”--in short, a +woman who possesses the hundred and thirty-seven methods of saying _No_, +and incommensurable variations of the word _Yes_. Is not a treatise on +the words _yes_ and _no_, a fine diplomatic, philosophic, logographic, +and moral work, still waiting to be written? But to accomplish this +work, which we may also call diabolic, isn’t an androgynous genius +necessary? For that reason, probably, it will never be attempted. And +besides, of all unpublished works isn’t it the best known and the best +practised among women? Have you studied the behavior, the pose, the +_disinvoltura_ of a falsehood? Examine it. + +Madame Desmarets was seated in the right-hand corner of her carriage, +her husband in the left. Having forced herself to recover from her +emotion in the ballroom, she now affected a calm demeanor. Her husband +had then said nothing to her, and he still said nothing. Jules looked +out of the carriage window at the black walls of the silent houses +before which they passed; but suddenly, as if driven by a determining +thought, when turning the corner of a street he examined his wife, who +appeared to be cold in spite of the fur-lined pelisse in which she was +wrapped. He thought she seemed pensive, and perhaps she really was +so. Of all communicable things, reflection and gravity are the most +contagious. + +“What could Monsieur de Maulincour have said to affect you so keenly?” + said Jules; “and why does he wish me to go to his house and find out?” + +“He can tell you nothing in his house that I cannot tell you here,” she +replied. + +Then, with that feminine craft which always slightly degrades virtue, +Madame Jules waited for another question. Her husband turned his face +back to the houses, and continued his study of their walls. Another +question would imply suspicion, distrust. To suspect a woman is a crime +in love. Jules had already killed a man for doubting his wife. Clemence +did not know all there was of true passion, of loyal reflection, in her +husband’s silence; just as Jules was ignorant of the generous drama that +was wringing the heart of his Clemence. + +The carriage rolled on through a silent Paris, bearing the couple,--two +lovers who adored each other, and who, gently leaning on the same +silken cushion, were being parted by an abyss. In these elegant coupes +returning from a ball between midnight and two in the morning, how +many curious and singular scenes must pass,--meaning those coupes with +lanterns, which light both the street and the carriage, those with their +windows unshaded; in short, legitimate coupes, in which couples can +quarrel without caring for the eyes of pedestrians, because the civil +code gives a right to provoke, or beat, or kiss, a wife in a carriage +or elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere! How many secrets must be revealed in +this way to nocturnal pedestrians,--to those young fellows who have gone +to a ball in a carriage, but are obliged, for whatever cause it may be, +to return on foot. It was the first time that Jules and Clemence had +been together thus,--each in a corner; usually the husband pressed close +to his wife. + +“It is very cold,” remarked Madame Jules. + +But her husband did not hear her; he was studying the signs above the +shop windows. + +“Clemence,” he said at last, “forgive me the question I am about to ask +you.” + +He came closer, took her by the waist, and drew her to him. + +“My God, it is coming!” thought the poor woman. “Well,” she said aloud, +anticipating the question, “you want to know what Monsieur de Maulincour +said to me. I will tell you, Jules; but not without fear. Good God! how +is it possible that you and I should have secrets from one another? For +the last few moments I have seen you struggling between a conviction of +our love and vague fears. But that conviction is clear within us, is +it not? And these doubts and fears, do they not seem to you dark and +unnatural? Why not stay in that clear light of love you cannot doubt? +When I have told you all, you will still desire to know more; and yet I +myself do not know what the extraordinary words of that man meant. What +I fear is that this may lead to some fatal affair between you. I would +rather that we both forget this unpleasant moment. But, in any case, +swear to me that you will let this singular adventure explain itself +naturally. Here are the facts. Monsieur de Maulincour declared to me +that the three accidents you have heard mentioned--the falling of a +stone on his servant, the breaking down of his cabriolet, and his duel +about Madame de Serizy--were the result of some plot I had laid against +him. He also threatened to reveal to you the cause of my desire to +destroy him. Can you imagine what all this means? My emotion came from +the sight of his face convulsed with madness, his haggard eyes, and also +his words, broken by some violent inward emotion. I thought him mad. +That is all that took place. Now, I should be less than a woman if I had +not perceived that for over a year I have become, as they call it, the +passion of Monsieur de Maulincour. He has never seen me except at a +ball; and our intercourse has been most insignificant,--merely that +which every one shares at a ball. Perhaps he wants to disunite us, so +that he may find me at some future time alone and unprotected. There, +see! already you are frowning! Oh, how cordially I hate society! We were +so happy without him; why take any notice of him? Jules, I entreat you, +forget all this! To-morrow we shall, no doubt, hear that Monsieur de +Maulincour has gone mad.” + +“What a singular affair!” thought Jules, as the carriage stopped under +the peristyle of their house. He gave his arm to his wife and together +they went up to their apartments. + +To develop this history in all its truth of detail, and to follow its +course through many windings, it is necessary here to divulge some of +love’s secrets, to glide beneath the ceilings of a marriage chamber, not +shamelessly, but like Trilby, frightening neither Dougal nor Jeannie, +alarming no one,--being as chaste as our noble French language requires, +and as bold as the pencil of Gerard in his picture of Daphnis and Chloe. + +The bedroom of Madame Jules was a sacred plot. Herself, her husband, +and her maid alone entered it. Opulence has glorious privileges, and the +most enviable are those which enable the development of sentiments to +their fullest extent,--fertilizing them by the accomplishment of even +their caprices, and surrounding them with a brilliancy that enlarges +them, with refinements that purify them, with a thousand delicacies that +make them still more alluring. If you hate dinners on the grass, and +meals ill-served, if you feel a pleasure in seeing a damask cloth that +is dazzlingly white, a silver-gilt dinner service, and porcelain of +exquisite purity, lighted by transparent candles, where miracles of +cookery are served under silver covers bearing coats of arms, you must, +to be consistent, leave the garrets at the tops of the houses, and the +grisettes in the streets, abandon garrets, grisettes, umbrellas, and +overshoes to men who pay for their dinners with tickets; and you must +also comprehend Love to be a principle which develops in all its grace +only on Savonnerie carpets, beneath the opal gleams of an alabaster +lamp, between guarded walls silk-hung, before gilded hearths in chambers +deadened to all outward sounds by shutters and billowy curtains. Mirrors +must be there to show the play of form and repeat the woman we would +multiply as love itself multiplies and magnifies her; next low +divans, and a bed which, like a secret, is divined, not shown. In this +coquettish chamber are fur-lined slippers for pretty feet, wax-candles +under glass with muslin draperies, by which to read at all hours of the +night, and flowers, not those oppressive to the head, and linen, the +fineness of which might have satisfied Anne of Austria. + +Madame Jules had realized this charming programme, but that was nothing. +All women of taste can do as much, though there is always in the +arrangement of these details a stamp of personality which gives to this +decoration or that detail a character that cannot be imitated. To-day, +more than ever, reigns the fanaticism of individuality. The more our +laws tend to an impossible equality, the more we shall get away from it +in our manners and customs. Thus, rich people are beginning, in France, +to become more exclusive in their tastes and their belongings, than they +have been for the last thirty years. Madame Jules knew very well how +to carry out this programme; and everything about her was arranged in +harmony with a luxury that suits so well with love. Love in a cottage, +or “Fifteen hundred francs and my Sophy,” is the dream of starvelings to +whom black bread suffices in their present state; but when love +really comes, they grow fastidious and end by craving the luxuries of +gastronomy. Love holds toil and poverty in horror. It would rather die +than merely live on from hand to mouth. + +Many women, returning from a ball, impatient for their beds, throw off +their gowns, their faded flowers, their bouquets, the fragrance of which +has now departed. They leave their little shoes beneath a chair, the +white strings trailing; they take out their combs and let their hair +roll down as it will. Little they care if their husbands see the puffs, +the hairpins, the artful props which supported the elegant edifices +of the hair, and the garlands or the jewels that adorned it. No more +mysteries! all is over for the husband; no more painting or decoration +for him. The corset--half the time it is a corset of a reparative +kind--lies where it is thrown, if the maid is too sleepy to take it away +with her. The whalebone bustle, the oiled-silk protections round the +sleeves, the pads, the hair bought from a coiffeur, all the false woman +is there, scattered about in open sight. _Disjecta membra poetae_, the +artificial poesy, so much admired by those for whom it is conceived and +elaborated, the fragments of a pretty woman, litter every corner of the +room. To the love of a yawning husband, the actual presents herself, +also yawning, in a dishabille without elegance, and a tumbled night-cap, +that of last night and that of to-morrow night also,--“For really, +monsieur, if you want a pretty cap to rumple every night, increase my +pin-money.” + +There’s life as it is! A woman makes herself old and unpleasing to her +husband; but dainty and elegant and adorned for others, for the rival of +all husbands,--for that world which calumniates and tears to shreds her +sex. + +Inspired by true love, for Love has, like other creations, its instinct +of preservation, Madame Jules did very differently; she found in the +constant blessing of her love the necessary impulse to fulfil all those +minute personal cares which ought never to be relaxed, because they +perpetuate love. Besides, such personal cares and duties proceed from a +personal dignity which becomes all women, and are among the sweetest of +flatteries, for is it not respecting in themselves the man they love? + +So Madame Jules denied to her husband all access to her dressing-room, +where she left the accessories of her toilet, and whence she issued +mysteriously adorned for the mysterious fetes of her heart. Entering +their chamber, which was always graceful and elegant, Jules found a +woman coquettishly wrapped in a charming _peignoir_, her hair simply +wound in heavy coils around her head; a woman always more simple, more +beautiful there than she was before the world; a woman just refreshed in +water, whose only artifice consisted in being whiter than her muslins, +sweeter than all perfumes, more seductive than any siren, always loving +and therefore always loved. This admirable understanding of a wife’s +business was the secret of Josephine’s charm for Napoleon, as in former +times it was that of Caesonia for Caius Caligula, of Diane de Poitiers +for Henri II. If it was largely productive to women of seven or eight +lustres what a weapon is it in the hands of young women! A husband +gathers with delight the rewards of his fidelity. + +Returning home after the conversation which had chilled her with fear, +and still gave her the keenest anxiety, Madame Jules took particular +pains with her toilet for the night. She wanted to make herself, and she +did make herself enchanting. She belted the cambric of her dressing-gown +round her waist, defining the lines of her bust; she allowed her hair to +fall upon her beautifully modelled shoulders. A perfumed bath had given +her a delightful fragrance, and her little bare feet were in velvet +slippers. Strong in a sense of her advantages she came in stepping +softly, and put her hands over her husband’s eyes. She thought him +pensive; he was standing in his dressing-gown before the fire, his elbow +on the mantel and one foot on the fender. She said in his ear, warming +it with her breath, and nibbling the tip of it with her teeth:-- + +“What are you thinking about, monsieur?” + +Then she pressed him in her arms as if to tear him away from all evil +thoughts. The woman who loves has a full knowledge of her power; the +more virtuous she is, the more effectual her coquetry. + +“About you,” he answered. + +“Only about me?” + +“Yes.” + +“Ah! that’s a very doubtful ‘yes.’” + +They went to bed. As she fell asleep, Madame Jules said to herself:-- + +“Monsieur de Maulincour will certainly cause some evil. Jules’ mind is +preoccupied, disturbed; he is nursing thoughts he does not tell me.” + +It was three in the morning when Madame Jules was awakened by a +presentiment which struck her heart as she slept. She had a sense both +physical and moral of her husband’s absence. She did not feel the +arm Jules passed beneath her head,--that arm in which she had slept, +peacefully and happy, for five years; an arm she had never wearied. A +voice said to her, “Jules suffers, Jules is weeping.” She raised her +head, and then sat up; felt that her husband’s place was cold, and saw +him sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, his head resting +against the back of an arm-chair. Tears were on his cheeks. The poor +woman threw herself hastily from her bed and sprang at a bound to her +husband’s knees. + +“Jules! what is it? Are you ill? Speak, tell me! Speak to me, if you +love me!” and she poured out a hundred words expressing the deepest +tenderness. + +Jules knelt at her feet, kissed her hands and knees, and answered with +fresh tears:-- + +“Dear Clemence, I am most unhappy! It is not loving to distrust the +one we love. I adore you and suspect you. The words that man said to me +to-night have struck to my heart; they stay there in spite of myself, +and confound me. There is some mystery here. In short, and I blush to +say it, your explanations do not satisfy me. My reason casts gleams +into my soul which my love rejects. It is an awful combat. Could I +stay there, holding your head, and suspecting thoughts within it to me +unknown? Oh! I believe in you, I believe in you!” he cried, seeing her +smile sadly and open her mouth as if to speak. “Say nothing; do not +reproach me. Besides, could you say anything I have not said myself for +the last three hours? Yes, for three hours, I have been here, watching +you as you slept, so beautiful! admiring that pure, peaceful brow. Yes, +yes! you have always told me your thoughts, have you not? I alone am in +that soul. While I look at you, while my eyes can plunge into yours I +see all plainly. Your life is as pure as your glance is clear. No, there +is no secret behind those transparent eyes.” He rose and kissed their +lids. “Let me avow to you, dearest soul,” he said, “that for the last +five years each day has increased my happiness, through the knowledge +that you are all mine, and that no natural affection even can take any +of your love. Having no sister, no father, no mother, no companion, I +am neither above nor below any living being in your heart; I am alone +there. Clemence, repeat to me those sweet things of the spirit you have +so often said to me; do not blame me; comfort me, I am so unhappy. I +have an odious suspicion on my conscience, and you have nothing in your +heart to sear it. My beloved, tell me, could I stay there beside you? +Could two heads united as ours have been lie on the same pillow when +one was suffering and the other tranquil? What are you thinking of?” + he cried abruptly, observing that Clemence was anxious, confused, and +seemed unable to restrain her tears. + +“I am thinking of my mother,” she answered, in a grave voice. “You +will never know, Jules, what I suffer in remembering my mother’s dying +farewell, said in a voice sweeter than all music, and in feeling the +solemn touch of her icy hand at a moment when you overwhelm me with +those assurances of your precious love.” + +She raised her husband, strained him to her with a nervous force greater +than that of men, and kissed his hair, covering it with tears. + +“Ah! I would be hacked in pieces for you! Tell me that I make you happy; +that I am to you the most beautiful of women--a thousand women to you. +Oh! you are loved as no other man ever was or will be. I don’t know the +meaning of those words ‘duty,’ ‘virtue.’ Jules, I love you for yourself; +I am happy in loving you; I shall love you more and more to my dying +day. I have pride in my love; I feel it is my destiny to have one sole +emotion in my life. What I shall tell you now is dreadful, I know--but +I am glad to have no child; I do not wish for any. I feel I am more wife +than mother. Well, then, can you fear? Listen to me, my own beloved, +promise to forget, not this hour of mingled tenderness and doubt, but +the words of that madman. Jules, you _must_. Promise me not to see him, +not to go to him. I have a deep conviction that if you set one foot in +that maze we shall both roll down a precipice where I shall perish--but +with your name upon my lips, your heart in my heart. Why hold me so high +in that heart and yet so low in reality? What! you who give credit to so +many as to money, can you not give me the charity of faith? And on the +first occasion in our lives when you might prove to me your boundless +trust, do you cast me from my throne in your heart? Between a madman +and me, it is the madman whom you choose to believe? oh, Jules!” She +stopped, threw back the hair that fell about her brow and neck, and +then, in a heart-rending tone, she added: “I have said too much; one +word should suffice. If your soul and your forehead still keep this +cloud, however light it be, I tell you now that I shall die of it.” + +She could not repress a shudder, and turned pale. + +“Oh! I will kill that man,” thought Jules, as he lifted his wife in his +arms and carried her to her bed. + +“Let us sleep in peace, my angel,” he said. “I have forgotten all, I +swear it!” + +Clemence fell asleep to the music of those sweet words, softly repeated. +Jules, as he watched her sleeping, said in his heart:-- + +“She is right; when love is so pure, suspicion blights it. To that young +soul, that tender flower, a blight--yes, a blight means death.” + +When a cloud comes between two beings filled with affection for each +other and whose lives are in absolute unison, that cloud, though it +may disperse, leaves in those souls a trace of its passage. Either +love gains a stronger life, as the earth after rain, or the shock still +echoes like distant thunder through a cloudless sky. It is impossible +to recover absolutely the former life; love will either increase or +diminish. + +At breakfast, Monsieur and Madame Jules showed to each other those +particular attentions in which there is always something of affectation. +There were glances of forced gaiety, which seemed the efforts of persons +endeavoring to deceive themselves. Jules had involuntary doubts, his +wife had positive fears. Still, sure of each other, they had slept. Was +this strained condition the effect of a want of faith, or was it only a +memory of their nocturnal scene? They did not know themselves. But they +loved each other so purely that the impression of that scene, both cruel +and beneficent, could not fail to leave its traces in their souls; both +were eager to make those traces disappear, each striving to be the first +to return to the other, and thus they could not fail to think of the +cause of their first variance. To loving souls, this is not grief; pain +is still far-off; but it is a sort of mourning, which is difficult to +depict. If there are, indeed, relations between colors and the emotions +of the soul, if, as Locke’s blind man said, scarlet produces on the +sight the effect produced upon the hearing by a blast of trumpets, it is +permissible to compare this reaction of melancholy to mourning tones of +gray. + +But even so, love saddened, love in which remains a true sentiment +of its happiness, momentarily troubled though it be, gives enjoyments +derived from pain and pleasure both, which are all novel. Jules studied +his wife’s voice; he watched her glances with the freshness of feeling +that inspired him in the earliest days of his passion for her. The +memory of five absolutely happy years, her beauty, the candor of her +love, quickly effaced in her husband’s mind the last vestiges of an +intolerable pain. + +The day was Sunday,--a day on which there was no Bourse and no business +to be done. The reunited pair passed the whole day together, getting +farther into each other’s hearts than they ever yet had done, like two +children who in a moment of fear, hold each other closely and cling +together, united by an instinct. There are in this life of two-in-one +completely happy days, the gift of chance, ephemeral flowers, born +neither of yesterday nor belonging to the morrow. Jules and Clemence +now enjoyed this day as though they forboded it to be the last of their +loving life. What name shall we give to that mysterious power which +hastens the steps of travellers before the storm is visible; which makes +the life and beauty of the dying so resplendent, and fills the parting +soul with joyous projects for days before death comes; which tells the +midnight student to fill his lamp when it shines brightest; and makes +the mother fear the thoughtful look cast upon her infant by an observing +man? We all are affected by this influence in the great catastrophes of +life; but it has never yet been named or studied; it is something more +than presentiment, but not as yet clear vision. + +All went well till the following day. On Monday, Jules Desmarets, +obliged to go to the Bourse on his usual business, asked his wife, as +usual, if she would take advantage of his carriage and let him drive her +anywhere. + +“No,” she said, “the day is too unpleasant to go out.” + +It was raining in torrents. At half-past two o’clock Monsieur Desmarets +reached the Treasury. At four o’clock, as he left the Bourse, he came +face to face with Monsieur de Maulincour, who was waiting for him with +the nervous pertinacity of hatred and vengeance. + +“Monsieur,” he said, taking Monsieur Desmarets by the arm, “I have +important information to give you. Listen to me. I am too loyal a man to +have recourse to anonymous letters with which to trouble your peace of +mind; I prefer to speak to you in person. Believe me, if my very life +were not concerned, I should not meddle with the private affairs of any +household, even if I thought I had the right to do so.” + +“If what you have to say to me concerns Madame Desmarets,” replied +Jules, “I request you to be silent, monsieur.” + +“If I am silent, monsieur, you may before long see Madame Jules on the +prisoner’s bench at the court of assizes beside a convict. Now, do you +wish me to be silent?” + +Jules turned pale; but his noble face instantly resumed its calmness, +though it was now a false calmness. Drawing the baron under one of the +temporary sheds of the Bourse, near which they were standing, he said to +him in a voice which concealed his intense inward emotion:-- + +“Monsieur, I will listen to you; but there will be a duel to the death +between us if--” + +“Oh, to that I consent!” cried Monsieur de Maulincour. “I have the +greatest esteem for your character. You speak of death. You are unaware +that your wife may have assisted in poisoning me last Saturday night. +Yes, monsieur, since then some extraordinary evil has developed in me. +My hair appears to distil an inward fever and a deadly languor through +my skull; I know who clutched my hair at that ball.” + +Monsieur de Maulincour then related, without omitting a single fact, his +platonic love for Madame Jules, and the details of the affair in the rue +Soly which began this narrative. Any one would have listened to him with +attention; but Madame Jules’ husband had good reason to be more amazed +than any other human being. Here his character displayed itself; he +was more amazed than overcome. Made a judge, and the judge of an +adored woman, he found in his soul the equity of a judge as well as the +inflexibility. A lover still, he thought less of his own shattered life +than of his wife’s life; he listened, not to his own anguish, but to +some far-off voice that cried to him, “Clemence cannot lie! Why should +she betray you?” + +“Monsieur,” said the baron, as he ended, “being absolutely certain +of having recognized in Monsieur de Funcal the same Ferragus whom the +police declared dead, I have put upon his traces an intelligent man. As +I returned that night I remembered, by a fortunate chance, the name of +Madame Meynardie, mentioned in that letter of Ida, the presumed mistress +of my persecutor. Supplied with this clue, my emissary will soon get to +the bottom of this horrible affair; for he is far more able to discover +the truth than the police themselves.” + +“Monsieur,” replied Desmarets, “I know not how to thank you for this +confidence. You say that you can obtain proofs and witnesses; I shall +await them. I shall seek the truth of this strange affair courageously; +but you must permit me to doubt everything until the evidence of +the facts you state is proved to me. In any case you shall have +satisfaction, for, as you will certainly understand, we both require +it.” + +Jules returned home. + +“What is the matter, Jules?” asked his wife, when she saw him. “You look +so pale you frighten me!” + +“The day is cold,” he answered, walking with slow steps across the room +where all things spoke to him of love and happiness,--that room so calm +and peaceful where a deadly storm was gathering. + +“Did you go out to-day?” he asked, as though mechanically. + +He was impelled to ask the question by the last of a myriad of thoughts +which had gathered themselves together into a lucid meditation, though +jealousy was actively prompting them. + +“No,” she answered, in a tone that was falsely candid. + +At that instant Jules saw through the open door of the dressing-room the +velvet bonnet which his wife wore in the mornings; on it were drops of +rain. Jules was a passionate man, but he was also full of delicacy. It +was repugnant to him to bring his wife face to face with a lie. When +such a situation occurs, all has come to an end forever between certain +beings. And yet those drops of rain were like a flash tearing through +his brain. + +He left the room, went down to the porter’s lodge, and said to the +porter, after making sure that they were alone:-- + +“Fouguereau, a hundred crowns if you tell me the truth; dismissal if you +deceive me; and nothing at all if you ever speak of my question and your +answer.” + +He stopped to examine the man’s face, leading him under the window. Then +he continued:-- + +“Did madame go out this morning?” + +“Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in +about half an hour ago.” + +“That is true, upon your honor?” + +“Yes, monsieur.” + +“You will have the money; but if you speak of this, remember, you will +lose all.” + +Jules returned to his wife. + +“Clemence,” he said, “I find I must put my accounts in order. Do not be +offended at the inquiry I am going to make. Have I not given you forty +thousand francs since the beginning of the year?” + +“More,” she said,--“forty-seven.” + +“Have you spent them?” + +“Nearly,” she replied. “In the first place, I had to pay several of our +last year’s bills--” + +“I shall never find out anything in this way,” thought Jules. “I am not +taking the best course.” + +At this moment Jules’ own valet entered the room with a letter for his +master, who opened it indifferently, but as soon as his eyes had lighted +on the signature he read it eagerly. The letter was as follows:-- + + + Monsieur,--For the sake of your peace of mind as well as ours, I + take the course of writing you this letter without possessing the + advantage of being known to you; but my position, my age, and the + fear of some misfortune compel me to entreat you to show + indulgence in the trying circumstances under which our afflicted + family is placed. Monsieur Auguste de Maulincour has for the last + few days shown signs of mental derangement, and we fear that he + may trouble your happiness by fancies which he confided to + Monsieur le Vidame de Pamiers and myself during his first attack + of frenzy. We think it right, therefore, to warn you of his + malady, which is, we hope, curable; but it will have such serious + and important effects on the honor of our family and the career of + my grandson that we must rely, monsieur, on your entire + discretion. + + If Monsieur le Vidame or I could have gone to see you we would not + have written. But I make no doubt that you will regard this prayer + of a mother, who begs you to destroy this letter. + + Accept the assurance of my perfect consideration. + +Baronne de Maulincour, _nee_ de Rieux. + + +“Oh! what torture!” cried Jules. + +“What is it? what is in your mind?” asked his wife, exhibiting the +deepest anxiety. + +“I have come,” he answered, slowly, as he threw her the letter, “to +ask myself whether it can be you who have sent me that to avert my +suspicions. Judge, therefore, what I suffer.” + +“Unhappy man!” said Madame Jules, letting fall the paper. “I pity him; +though he has done me great harm.” + +“Are you aware that he has spoken to me?” + +“Oh! have you been to see him, in spite of your promise?” she cried in +terror. + +“Clemence, our love is in danger of perishing; we stand outside of the +ordinary rules of life; let us lay aside all petty considerations +in presence of this great peril. Explain to me why you went out this +morning. Women think they have the right to tell us little falsehoods. +Sometimes they like to hide a pleasure they are preparing for us. Just +now you said a word to me, by mistake, no doubt, a no for a yes.” + +He went into the dressing-room and brought out the bonnet. + +“See,” he said, “your bonnet has betrayed you; these spots are +raindrops. You must, therefore, have gone out in a street cab, and these +drops fell upon it as you went to find one, or as you entered or left +the house where you went. But a woman can leave her own home for many +innocent purposes, even after she has told her husband that she did +not mean to go out. There are so many reasons for changing our plans! +Caprices, whims, are they not your right? Women are not required to be +consistent with themselves. You had forgotten something,--a service +to render, a visit, some kind action. But nothing hinders a woman from +telling her husband what she does. Can we ever blush on the breast of a +friend? It is not a jealous husband who speaks to you, my Clemence; it +is your lover, your friend, your brother.” He flung himself passionately +at her feet. “Speak, not to justify yourself, but to calm my horrible +sufferings. I know that you went out. Well--what did you do? where did +you go?” + +“Yes, I went out, Jules,” she answered in a strained voice, though her +face was calm. “But ask me nothing more. Wait; have confidence; without +which you will lay up for yourself terrible remorse. Jules, my Jules, +trust is the virtue of love. I owe to you that I am at this moment too +troubled to answer you: but I am not a false woman; I love you, and you +know it.” + +“In the midst of all that can shake the faith of man and rouse his +jealousy, for I see I am not first in your heart, I am no longer thine +own self--well, Clemence, even so, I prefer to believe you, to believe +that voice, to believe those eyes. If you deceive me, you deserve--” + +“Ten thousand deaths!” she cried, interrupting him. + +“I have never hidden a thought from you, but you--” + +“Hush!” she said, “our happiness depends upon our mutual silence.” + +“Ha! I _will_ know all!” he exclaimed, with sudden violence. + +At that moment the cries of a woman were heard,--the yelping of a shrill +little voice came from the antechamber. + +“I tell you I will go in!” it cried. “Yes, I shall go in; I will see +her! I shall see her!” + +Jules and Clemence both ran to the salon as the door from the +antechamber was violently burst open. A young woman entered hastily, +followed by two servants, who said to their master:-- + +“Monsieur, this person would come in in spite of us. We told her that +madame was not at home. She answered that she knew very well madame had +been out, but she saw her come in. She threatened to stay at the door of +the house till she could speak to madame.” + +“You can go,” said Monsieur Desmarets to the two men. “What do you want, +mademoiselle?” he added, turning to the strange woman. + +This “demoiselle” was the type of a woman who is never to be met with +except in Paris. She is made in Paris, like the mud, like the pavement, +like the water of the Seine, such as it becomes in Paris before human +industry filters it ten times ere it enters the cut-glass decanters and +sparkles pure and bright from the filth it has been. She is therefore a +being who is truly original. Depicted scores of times by the painter’s +brush, the pencil of the caricaturist, the charcoal of the etcher, she +still escapes analysis, because she cannot be caught and rendered in all +her moods, like Nature, like this fantastic Paris itself. She holds to +vice by one thread only, and she breaks away from it at a thousand other +points of the social circumference. Besides, she lets only one trait +of her character be known, and that the only one which renders her +blamable; her noble virtues are hidden; she prefers to glory in her +naive libertinism. Most incompletely rendered in dramas and tales where +she is put upon the scene with all her poesy, she is nowhere really +true but in her garret; elsewhere she is invariably calumniated or +over-praised. Rich, she deteriorates; poor, she is misunderstood. She +has too many vices, and too many good qualities; she is too near to +pathetic asphyxiation or to a dissolute laugh; too beautiful and too +hideous. She personifies Paris, to which, in the long run, she supplies +the toothless portresses, washerwomen, street-sweepers, beggars, +occasionally insolent countesses, admired actresses, applauded singers; +she has even given, in the olden time, two quasi-queens to the monarchy. +Who can grasp such a Proteus? She is all woman, less than woman, more +than woman. From this vast portrait the painter of manners and morals +can take but a feature here and there; the _ensemble_ is infinite. + +She was a grisette of Paris; a grisette in all her glory; a grisette +in a hackney-coach,--happy, young, handsome, fresh, but a grisette; a +grisette with claws, scissors, impudent as a Spanish woman, snarling as +a prudish English woman proclaiming her conjugal rights, coquettish as +a great lady, though more frank, and ready for everything; a perfect +_lionne_ in her way; issuing from the little apartment of which she +had dreamed so often, with its red-calico curtains, its Utrecht velvet +furniture, its tea-table, the cabinet of china with painted designs, the +sofa, the little moquette carpet, the alabaster clock and candlesticks +(under glass cases), the yellow bedroom, the eider-down quilt,--in +short, all the domestic joys of a grisette’s life; and in addition, +the woman-of-all-work (a former grisette herself, now the owner of a +moustache), theatre-parties, unlimited bonbons, silk dresses, bonnets to +spoil,--in fact, all the felicities coveted by the grisette heart except +a carriage, which only enters her imagination as a marshal’s baton into +the dreams of a soldier. Yes, this grisette had all these things in +return for a true affection, or in spite of a true affection, as some +others obtain it for an hour a day,--a sort of tax carelessly paid under +the claws of an old man. + +The young woman who now entered the presence of Monsieur and Madame +Jules had a pair of feet so little covered by her shoes that only a slim +black line was visible between the carpet and her white stockings. This +peculiar foot-gear, which Parisian caricaturists have well-rendered, +is a special attribute of the grisette of Paris; but she is even more +distinctive to the eyes of an observer by the care with which her +garments are made to adhere to her form, which they clearly define. +On this occasion she was trigly dressed in a green gown, with a white +chemisette, which allowed the beauty of her bust to be seen; her shawl, +of Ternaux cashmere, had fallen from her shoulders, and was held by its +two corners, which were twisted round her wrists. She had a delicate +face, rosy cheeks, a white skin, sparkling gray eyes, a round, very +promising forehead, hair carefully smoothed beneath her little bonnet, +and heavy curls upon her neck. + +“My name is Ida,” she said, “and if that’s Madame Jules to whom I have +the advantage of speaking, I’ve come to tell her all I have in my +heart against her. It is very wrong, when a woman is set up and in her +furniture, as you are here, to come and take from a poor girl a man +with whom I’m as good as married, morally, and who did talk of making it +right by marrying me before the municipality. There’s plenty of handsome +young men in the world--ain’t there, monsieur?--to take your fancy, +without going after a man of middle age, who makes my happiness. Yah! I +haven’t got a fine hotel like this, but I’ve got my love, I have. I hate +handsome men and money; I’m all heart, and--” + +Madame Jules turned to her husband. + +“You will allow me, monsieur, to hear no more of all this,” she said, +retreating to her bedroom. + +“If the lady lives with you, I’ve made a mess of it; but I can’t help +that,” resumed Ida. “Why does she come after Monsieur Ferragus every +day?” + +“You are mistaken, mademoiselle,” said Jules, stupefied; “my wife is +incapable--” + +“Ha! so you’re married, you two,” said the grisette showing some +surprise. “Then it’s very wrong, monsieur,--isn’t it?--for a woman who +has the happiness of being married in legal marriage to have relations +with a man like Henri--” + +“Henri! who is Henri?” said Jules, taking Ida by the arm and pulling her +into an adjoining room that his wife might hear no more. + +“Why, Monsieur Ferragus.” + +“But he is dead,” said Jules. + +“Nonsense; I went to Franconi’s with him last night, and he brought me +home--as he ought. Besides, your wife can tell you about him; didn’t +she go there this very afternoon at three o’clock? I know she did, for +I waited in the street, and saw her,--all because that good-natured +fellow, Monsieur Justin, whom you know perhaps,--a little old man with +jewelry who wears corsets,--told me that Madame Jules was my rival. That +name, monsieur, sounds mighty like a feigned one; but if it is yours, +excuse me. But this I say, if Madame Jules was a court duchess, Henri is +rich enough to satisfy all her fancies, and it is my business to protect +my property; I’ve a right to, for I love him, that I do. He is my +_first_ inclination; my happiness and all my future fate depends on +it. I fear nothing, monsieur; I am honest; I never lied, or stole the +property of any living soul, no matter who. If an empress was my rival, +I’d go straight to her, empress as she was; because all pretty women are +equals, monsieur--” + +“Enough! enough!” said Jules. “Where do you live?” + +“Rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14, monsieur,--Ida Gruget, +corset-maker, at your service,--for we make lots of corsets for men.” + +“Where does the man whom you call Ferragus live?” + +“Monsieur,” she said, pursing up her lips, “in the first place, he’s not +a man; he is a rich monsieur, much richer, perhaps, than you are. But +why do you ask me his address when your wife knows it? He told me not +to give it. Am I obliged to answer you? I’m not, thank God, in a +confessional or a police-court; I’m responsible only to myself.” + +“If I were to offer you ten thousand francs to tell me where Monsieur +Ferragus lives, how then?” + +“Ha! n, o, _no_, my little friend, and that ends the matter,” she said, +emphasizing this singular reply with a popular gesture. “There’s no +sum in the world could make me tell you. I have the honor to bid you +good-day. How do I get out of here?” + +Jules, horror-struck, allowed her to go without further notice. The +whole world seemed to crumble beneath his feet, and above him the +heavens were falling with a crash. + +“Monsieur is served,” said his valet. + +The valet and the footman waited in the dining-room a quarter of an hour +without seeing master or mistress. + +“Madame will not dine to-day,” said the waiting-maid, coming in. + +“What’s the matter, Josephine?” asked the valet. + +“I don’t know,” she answered. “Madame is crying, and is going to bed. +Monsieur has no doubt got some love-affair on hand, and it has been +discovered at a very bad time. I wouldn’t answer for madame’s life. Men +are so clumsy; they’ll make you scenes without any precaution.” + +“That’s not so,” said the valet, in a low voice. “On the contrary, +madame is the one who--you understand? What times does monsieur have to +go after pleasures, he, who hasn’t slept out of madame’s room for five +years, who goes to his study at ten and never leaves it till breakfast, +at twelve. His life is all known, it is regular; whereas madame goes out +nearly every day at three o’clock, Heaven knows where.” + +“And monsieur too,” said the maid, taking her mistress’s part. + +“Yes, but he goes straight to the Bourse. I told him three times that +dinner was ready,” continued the valet, after a pause. “You might as +well talk to a post.” + +Monsieur Jules entered the dining-room. + +“Where is madame?” he said. + +“Madame is going to bed; her head aches,” replied the maid, assuming an +air of importance. + +Monsieur Jules then said to the footmen composedly: “You can take away; +I shall go and sit with madame.” + +He went to his wife’s room and found her weeping, but endeavoring to +smother her sobs with her handkerchief. + +“Why do you weep?” said Jules; “you need expect no violence and no +reproaches from me. Why should I avenge myself? If you have not been +faithful to my love, it is that you were never worthy of it.” + +“Not worthy?” The words were repeated amid her sobs and the accent in +which they were said would have moved any other man than Jules. + +“To kill you, I must love more than perhaps I do love you,” he +continued. “But I should never have the courage; I would rather kill +myself, leaving you to your--happiness, and with--whom!--” + +He did not end his sentence. + +“Kill yourself!” she cried, flinging herself at his feet and clasping +them. + +But he, wishing to escape the embrace, tried to shake her off, dragging +her in so doing toward the bed. + +“Let me alone,” he said. + +“No, no, Jules!” she cried. “If you love me no longer I shall die. Do +you wish to know all?” + +“Yes.” + +He took her, grasped her violently, and sat down on the edge of the bed, +holding her between his legs. Then, looking at that beautiful face now +red as fire and furrowed with tears,-- + +“Speak,” he said. + +Her sobs began again. + +“No; it is a secret of life and death. If I tell it, I--No, I cannot. +Have mercy, Jules!” + +“You have betrayed me--” + +“Ah! Jules, you think so now, but soon you will know all.” + +“But this Ferragus, this convict whom you go to see, a man enriched by +crime, if he does not belong to you, if you do not belong to him--” + +“Oh, Jules!” + +“Speak! Is he your mysterious benefactor?--the man to whom we owe our +fortune, as persons have said already?” + +“Who said that?” + +“A man whom I killed in a duel.” + +“Oh, God! one death already!” + +“If he is not your protector, if he does not give you money, if it +is you, on the contrary, who carry money to him, tell me, is he your +brother?” + +“What if he were?” she said. + +Monsieur Desmarets crossed his arms. + +“Why should that have been concealed from me?” he said. “Then you and +your mother have both deceived me? Besides, does a woman go to see her +brother every day, or nearly every day?” + +His wife had fainted at his feet. + +“Dead,” he said. “And suppose I am mistaken?” + +He sprang to the bell-rope; called Josephine, and lifted Clemence to the +bed. + +“I shall die of this,” said Madame Jules, recovering consciousness. + +“Josephine,” cried Monsieur Desmarets. “Send for Monsieur Desplein; send +also to my brother and ask him to come here immediately.” + +“Why your brother?” asked Clemence. + +But Jules had already left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. WHERE GO TO DIE? + + +For the first time in five years Madame Jules slept alone in her bed, +and was compelled to admit a physician into that sacred chamber. These +in themselves were two keen pangs. Desplein found Madame Jules very +ill. Never was a violent emotion more untimely. He would say nothing +definite, and postponed till the morrow giving any opinion, after +leaving a few directions, which were not executed, the emotions of the +heart causing all bodily cares to be forgotten. + +When morning dawned, Clemence had not yet slept. Her mind was absorbed +in the low murmur of a conversation which lasted several hours between +the brothers; but the thickness of the walls allowed no word which could +betray the object of this long conference to reach her ears. Monsieur +Desmarets, the notary, went away at last. The stillness of the night, +and the singular activity of the senses given by powerful emotion, +enabled Clemence to distinguish the scratching of a pen and the +involuntary movements of a person engaged in writing. Those who are +habitually up at night, and who observe the different acoustic effects +produced in absolute silence, know that a slight echo can be readily +perceived in the very places where louder but more equable and continued +murmurs are not distinct. At four o’clock the sound ceased. Clemence +rose, anxious and trembling. Then, with bare feet and without a wrapper, +forgetting her illness and her moist condition, the poor woman opened +the door softly without noise and looked into the next room. She saw her +husband sitting, with a pen in his hand, asleep in his arm-chair. The +candles had burned to the sockets. She slowly advanced and read on an +envelope, already sealed, the words, “This is my will.” + +She knelt down as if before an open grave and kissed her husband’s hand. +He woke instantly. + +“Jules, my friend, they grant some days to criminals condemned to +death,” she said, looking at him with eyes that blazed with fever and +with love. “Your innocent wife asks only two. Leave me free for two +days, and--wait! After that, I shall die happy--at least, you will +regret me.” + +“Clemence, I grant them.” + +Then, as she kissed her husband’s hands in the tender transport of her +heart, Jules, under the spell of that cry of innocence, took her in his +arms and kissed her forehead, though ashamed to feel himself still under +subjection to the power of that noble beauty. + +On the morrow, after taking a few hours’ rest, Jules entered his wife’s +room, obeying mechanically his invariable custom of not leaving the +house without a word to her. Clemence was sleeping. A ray of light +passing through a chink in the upper blind of a window fell across the +face of the dejected woman. Already suffering had impaired her forehead +and the freshness of her lips. A lover’s eye could not fail to notice +the appearance of dark blotches, and a sickly pallor in place of +the uniform tone of the cheeks and the pure ivory whiteness of the +skin,--two points at which the sentiments of her noble soul were +artlessly wont to show themselves. + +“She suffers,” thought Jules. “Poor Clemence! May God protect us!” + +He kissed her very softly on the forehead. She woke, saw her husband, +and remembered all. Unable to speak, she took his hand, her eyes filling +with tears. + +“I am innocent,” she said, ending her dream. + +“You will not go out to-day, will you?” asked Jules. + +“No, I feel too weak to leave my bed.” + +“If you should change your mind, wait till I return,” said Jules. + +Then he went down to the porter’s lodge. + +“Fouguereau, you will watch the door yourself to-day. I wish to know +exactly who comes to the house, and who leaves it.” + +Then he threw himself into a hackney-coach, and was driven to the hotel +de Maulincour, where he asked for the baron. + +“Monsieur is ill,” they told him. + +Jules insisted on entering, and gave his name. If he could not see the +baron, he wished to see the vidame or the dowager. He waited some time +in the salon, where Madame de Maulincour finally came to him and told +him that her grandson was much too ill to receive him. + +“I know, madame, the nature of his illness from the letter you did me +the honor to write, and I beg you to believe--” + +“A letter to you, monsieur, written by me!” cried the dowager, +interrupting him. “I have written you no letter. What was I made to say +in that letter, monsieur?” + +“Madame,” replied Jules, “intending to see Monsieur de Maulincour +to-day, I thought it best to preserve the letter in spite of its +injunction to destroy it. There it is.” + +Madame de Maulincour put on her spectacles, and the moment she cast her +eyes on the paper she showed the utmost surprise. + +“Monsieur,” she said, “my writing is so perfectly imitated that, if the +matter were not so recent, I might be deceived myself. My grandson is +ill, it is true; but his reason has never for a moment been affected. We +are the puppets of some evil-minded person or persons; and yet I cannot +imagine the object of a trick like this. You shall see my grandson, +monsieur, and you will at once perceive that he is perfectly sound in +mind.” + +She rang the bell, and sent to ask if the baron felt able to receive +Monsieur Desmarets. The servant returned with an affirmative answer. +Jules went to the baron’s room, where he found him in an arm-chair near +the fire. Too feeble to move, the unfortunate man merely bowed his head +with a melancholy gesture. The Vidame de Pamiers was sitting with him. + +“Monsieur le baron,” said Jules, “I have something to say which makes it +desirable that I should see you alone.” + +“Monsieur,” replied Auguste, “Monsieur le vidame knows about this +affair; you can speak fearlessly before him.” + +“Monsieur le baron,” said Jules, in a grave voice, “you have troubled +and well-nigh destroyed my happiness without having any right to do so. +Until the moment when we can see clearly which of us should demand, or +grant, reparation to the other, you are bound to help me in following +the dark and mysterious path into which you have flung me. I have now +come to ascertain from you the present residence of the extraordinary +being who exercises such a baneful effect on your life and mine. On my +return home yesterday, after listening to your avowals, I received that +letter.” + +Jules gave him the forged letter. + +“This Ferragus, this Bourignard, or this Monsieur de Funcal, is a +demon!” cried Maulincour, after having read it. “Oh, what a frightful +maze I put my foot into when I meddled in this matter! Where am I going? +I did wrong, monsieur,” he continued, looking at Jules; “but death is +the greatest of all expiations, and my death is now approaching. You can +ask me whatever you like; I am at your orders.” + +“Monsieur, you know, of course, where this man is living, and I must +know it if it costs me all my fortune to penetrate this mystery. In +presence of so cruel an enemy every moment is precious.” + +“Justin shall tell you all,” replied the baron. + +At these words the vidame fidgeted on his chair. Auguste rang the bell. + +“Justin is not in the house!” cried the vidame, in a hasty manner that +told much. + +“Well, then,” said Auguste, excitedly, “the other servants must know +where he is; send a man on horseback to fetch him. Your valet is in +Paris, isn’t he? He can be found.” + +The vidame was visibly distressed. + +“Justin can’t come, my dear boy,” said the old man; “he is dead. I +wanted to conceal the accident from you, but--” + +“Dead!” cried Monsieur de Maulincour,--“dead! When and how?” + +“Last night. He had been supping with some old friends, and, I dare say, +was drunk; his friends--no doubt they were drunk, too--left him lying in +the street, and a heavy vehicle ran over him.” + +“The convict did not miss _him_; at the first stroke he killed,” said +Auguste. “He has had less luck with me; it has taken four blows to put +me out of the way.” + +Jules was gloomy and thoughtful. + +“Am I to know nothing, then?” he cried, after a long pause. “Your valet +seems to have been justly punished. Did he not exceed your orders in +calumniating Madame Desmarets to a person named Ida, whose jealousy he +roused in order to turn her vindictiveness upon us?” + +“Ah, monsieur! in my anger I informed him about Madame Jules,” said +Auguste. + +“Monsieur!” cried the husband, keenly irritated. + +“Oh, monsieur!” replied the baron, claiming silence by a gesture, “I am +prepared for all. You cannot tell me anything my own conscience has +not already told me. I am now expecting the most celebrated of all +professors of toxicology, in order to learn my fate. If I am destined +to intolerable suffering, my resolution is taken. I shall blow my brains +out.” + +“You talk like a child!” cried the vidame, horrified by the coolness +with which the baron said these words. “Your grandmother would die of +grief.” + +“Then, monsieur,” said Jules, “am I to understand that there exist +no means of discovering in what part of Paris this extraordinary man +resides?” + +“I think, monsieur,” said the old vidame, “from what I have heard poor +Justin say, that Monsieur de Funcal lives at either the Portuguese or +the Brazilian embassy. Monsieur de Funcal is a nobleman belonging to +both those countries. As for the convict, he is dead and buried. Your +persecutor, whoever he is, seems to me so powerful that it would be +well to take no decisive measures until you are sure of some way of +confounding and crushing him. Act prudently and with caution, my dear +monsieur. Had Monsieur de Maulincour followed my advice, nothing of all +this would have happened.” + +Jules coldly but politely withdrew. He was now at a total loss to know +how to reach Ferragus. As he passed into his own house, the porter told +him that Madame had just been out to throw a letter into the post box +at the head of the rue de Menars. Jules felt humiliated by this proof of +the insight with which the porter espoused his cause, and the cleverness +by which he guessed the way to serve him. The eagerness of servants, and +their shrewdness in compromising masters who compromised themselves, +was known to him, and he fully appreciated the danger of having them as +accomplices, no matter for what purpose. But he could not think of his +personal dignity until the moment when he found himself thus suddenly +degraded. What a triumph for the slave who could not raise himself to +his master, to compel his master to come down to his level! Jules was +harsh and hard to him. Another fault. But he suffered so deeply! His +life till then so upright, so pure, was becoming crafty; he was to +scheme and lie. Clemence was scheming and lying. This to him was a +moment of horrible disgust. Lost in a flood of bitter feelings, Jules +stood motionless at the door of his house. Yielding to despair, he +thought of fleeing, of leaving France forever, carrying with him the +illusions of uncertainty. Then, again, not doubting that the letter +Clemence had just posted was addressed to Ferragus, his mind searched +for a means of obtaining the answer that mysterious being was certain +to send. Then his thoughts began to analyze the singular good fortune +of his life since his marriage, and he asked himself whether the calumny +for which he had taken such signal vengeance was not a truth. Finally, +reverting to the coming answer, he said to himself:-- + +“But this man, so profoundly capable, so logical in his every act, who +sees and foresees, who calculates, and even divines, our very thoughts, +is he likely to make an answer? Will he not employ some other means more +in keeping with his power? He may send his answer by some beggar; or in +a carton brought by an honest man, who does not suspect what he brings; +or in some parcel of shoes, which a shop-girl may innocently deliver to +my wife. If Clemence and he have agreed upon such means--” + +He distrusted all things; his mind ran over vast tracts and shoreless +oceans of conjecture. Then, after floating for a time among a thousand +contradictory ideas, he felt he was strongest in his own house, and he +resolved to watch it as the ant-lion watches his sandy labyrinth. + +“Fouguereau,” he said to the porter, “I am not at home to any one who +comes to see me. If any one calls to see madame, or brings her anything, +ring twice. Bring all letters addressed here to me, no matter for whom +they are intended.” + +“Thus,” thought he, as he entered his study, which was in the entresol, +“I forestall the schemes of this Ferragus. If he sends some one to ask +for me so as to find out if Clemence is alone, at least I shall not be +tricked like a fool.” + +He stood by the window of his study, which looked upon the street, +and then a final scheme, inspired by jealousy, came into his mind. He +resolved to send his head-clerk in his own carriage to the Bourse with +a letter to another broker, explaining his sales and purchases and +requesting him to do his business for that day. He postponed his more +delicate transactions till the morrow, indifferent to the fall or +rise of stocks or the debts of all Europe. High privilege of love!--it +crushes all things, all interests fall before it: altar, throne, +consols! + +At half-past three, just the hour at which the Bourse is in full blast +of reports, monthly settlements, premiums, etc., Fouguereau entered the +study, quite radiant with his news. + +“Monsieur, an old woman has come, but very cautiously; I think she’s a +sly one. She asked for monsieur, and seemed much annoyed when I told her +he was out; then she gave me a letter for madame, and here it is.” + +Fevered with anxiety, Jules opened the letter; then he dropped into a +chair, exhausted. The letter was mere nonsense throughout, and needed a +key. It was virtually in cipher. + +“Go away, Fouguereau.” The porter left him. “It is a mystery deeper than +the sea below the plummet line! Ah! it must be love; love only is so +sagacious, so inventive as this. Ah! I shall kill her.” + +At this moment an idea flashed through his brain with such force that +he felt almost physically illuminated by it. In the days of his toilsome +poverty before his marriage, Jules had made for himself a true friend. +The extreme delicacy with which he had managed the susceptibilities of a +man both poor and modest; the respect with which he had surrounded him; +the ingenious cleverness he had employed to nobly compel him to share +his opulence without permitting it to make him blush, increased their +friendship. Jacquet continued faithful to Desmarets in spite of his +wealth. + +Jacquet, a nobly upright man, a toiler, austere in his morals, had +slowly made his way in that particular ministry which develops both +honesty and knavery at the same time. A clerk in the ministry of Foreign +Affairs, he had charge of the most delicate division of its archives. +Jacquet in that office was like a glow-worm, casting his light upon +those secret correspondences, deciphering and classifying despatches. +Ranking higher than a mere _bourgeois_, his position at the ministry was +superior to that of the other subalterns. He lived obscurely, glad +to feel that such obscurity sheltered him from reverses and +disappointments, and was satisfied to humbly pay in the lowest coin +his debt to the country. Thanks to Jules, his position had been much +ameliorated by a worthy marriage. An unrecognized patriot, a minister in +actual fact, he contented himself with groaning in his chimney-corner at +the course of the government. In his own home, Jacquet was an easy-going +king,--an umbrella-man, as they say, who hired a carriage for his +wife which he never entered himself. In short, to end this sketch of a +philosopher unknown to himself, he had never suspected and never in +all his life would suspect the advantages he might have drawn from +his position,--that of having for his intimate friend a broker, and of +knowing every morning all the secrets of the State. This man, sublime +after the manner of that nameless soldier who died in saving Napoleon by +a “qui vive,” lived at the ministry. + +In ten minutes Jules was in his friend’s office. Jacquet gave him a +chair, laid aside methodically his green silk eye-shade, rubbed his +hands, picked up his snuff-box, rose, stretched himself till his +shoulder-blades cracked, swelled out his chest, and said:-- + +“What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?” + +“Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret,--a secret of life and death.” + +“It doesn’t concern politics?” + +“If it did, I shouldn’t come to you for information,” said Jules. +“No, it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely +silent.” + +“Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession. Don’t you know me by this +time?” he said, laughing. “Discretion is my lot.” + +Jules showed him the letter. + +“You must read me this letter, addressed to my wife.” + +“The deuce! the deuce! a bad business!” said Jacquet, examining the +letter as a usurer examines a note to be negotiated. “Ha! that’s a +gridiron letter! Wait a minute.” + +He left Jules alone for a moment, but returned immediately. + +“Easy enough to read, my friend! It is written on the gridiron plan, +used by the Portuguese minister under Monsieur de Choiseul, at the time +of the dismissal of the Jesuits. Here, see!” + +Jacquet placed upon the writing a piece of paper cut out in regular +squares, like the paper laces which confectioners wrap round their +sugarplums; and Jules then read with perfect ease the words that were +visible in the interstices. They were as follows:-- + + “Don’t be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be + troubled; and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions. + However ill you may be, you must have the courage to come here + to-morrow; find strength in your love for me. Mine for you has + induced me to submit to a cruel operation, and I cannot leave my + bed. I have had the actual cautery applied to my back, and it was + necessary to burn it in a long time; you understand me? But I + thought of you, and I did not suffer. + + “To baffle Maulincour (who will not persecute us much longer), I + have left the protecting roof of the embassy, and am now safe from + all inquiry in the rue des Enfants-Rouges, number 12, with an old + woman, Madame Etienne Gruget, mother of that Ida, who shall pay + dear for her folly. Come to-morrow, at nine in the morning. I am + in a room which is reached only by an interior staircase. Ask for + Monsieur Camuset. Adieu; I kiss your forehead, my darling.” + +Jacquet looked at Jules with a sort of honest terror, the sign of a +true compassion, as he made his favorite exclamation in two separate and +distinct tones,-- + +“The deuce! the deuce!” + +“That seems clear to you, doesn’t it?” said Jules. “Well, in the depths +of my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes itself +heard above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of all agony +until to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall know all; I +shall be happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me then, Jacquet.” + +“I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o’clock. We will go +together; I’ll wait for you, if you like, in the street. You may run +some danger, and you ought to have near you some devoted person who’ll +understand a mere sign, and whom you can safely trust. Count on me.” + +“Even to help me in killing some one?” + +“The deuce! the deuce!” said Jacquet, repeating, as it were, the same +musical note. “I have two children and a wife.” + +Jules pressed his friend’s hand and went away; but returned immediately. + +“I forgot the letter,” he said. “But that’s not all, I must reseal it.” + +“The deuce! the deuce! you opened it without saving the seal; however, +it is still possible to restore it. Leave it with me and I’ll bring it +to you _secundum scripturam_.” + +“At what time?” + +“Half-past five.” + +“If I am not yet in, give it to the porter and tell him to send it up to +madame.” + +“Do you want me to-morrow?” + +“No. Adieu.” + +Jules drove at once to the place de la Rotonde du Temple, where he left +his cabriolet and went on foot to the rue des Enfants-Rouges. He found +the house of Madame Etienne Gruget and examined it. There, the mystery +on which depended the fate of so many persons would be cleared up; +there, at this moment, was Ferragus, and to Ferragus all the threads of +this strange plot led. The Gordian knot of the drama, already so bloody, +was surely in a meeting between Madame Jules, her husband, and that man; +and a blade able to cut the closest of such knots would not be wanting. + +The house was one of those which belong to the class called +_cabajoutis_. This significant name is given by the populace of Paris +to houses which are built, as it were, piecemeal. They are nearly +always composed of buildings originally separate but afterwards united +according to the fancy of the various proprietors who successively +enlarge them; or else they are houses begun, left unfinished, again +built upon, and completed,--unfortunate structures which have passed, +like certain peoples, under many dynasties of capricious masters. +Neither the floors nor the windows have an _ensemble_,--to borrow one of +the most picturesque terms of the art of painting; all is discord, even +the external decoration. The _cabajoutis_ is to Parisian architecture +what the _capharnaum_ is to the apartment,--a poke-hole, where the most +heterogeneous articles are flung pell-mell. + +“Madame Etienne?” asked Jules of the portress. + +This portress had her lodge under the main entrance, in a sort of +chicken coop, or wooden house on rollers, not unlike those sentry-boxes +which the police have lately set up by the stands of hackney-coaches. + +“Hein?” said the portress, without laying down the stocking she was +knitting. + +In Paris the various component parts which make up the physiognomy of +any given portion of the monstrous city, are admirably in keeping with +its general character. Thus porter, concierge, or Suisse, whatever name +may be given to that essential muscle of the Parisian monster, is always +in conformity with the neighborhood of which he is a part; in fact, +he is often an epitome of it. The lazy porter of the faubourg +Saint-Germain, with lace on every seam of his coat, dabbles in stocks; +he of the Chaussee d’Antin takes his ease, reads the money-articles +in the newspapers, and has a business of his own in the faubourg +Montmartre. The portress in the quarter of prostitution was formerly a +prostitute; in the Marais, she has morals, is cross-grained, and full of +crotchets. + +On seeing Monsieur Jules this particular portress, holding her knitting +in one hand, took a knife and stirred the half-extinguished peat in her +foot-warmer; then she said:-- + +“You want Madame Etienne; do you mean Madame Etienne Gruget?” + +“Yes,” said Jules, assuming a vexed air. + +“Who makes trimmings?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, then, monsieur,” she said, issuing from her cage, and laying her +hand on Jules’ arm and leading him to the end of a long passage-way, +vaulted like a cellar, “go up the second staircase at the end of the +court-yard--where you will see the windows with the pots of pinks; +that’s where Madame Etienne lives.” + +“Thank you, madame. Do you think she is alone?” + +“Why shouldn’t she be alone? she’s a widow.” + +Jules hastened up a dark stairway, the steps of which were knobby with +hardened mud left by the feet of those who came and went. On the second +floor he saw three doors but no signs of pinks. Fortunately, on one of +the doors, the oiliest and darkest of the three, he read these words, +chalked on a panel: “Ida will come to-night at nine o’clock.” + +“This is the place,” thought Jules. + +He pulled an old bellrope, black with age, and heard the smothered sound +of a cracked bell and the barking of an asthmatic little dog. By the +way the sounds echoed from the interior he knew that the rooms were +encumbered with articles which left no space for reverberation,--a +characteristic feature of the homes of workmen and humble households, +where space and air are always lacking. + +Jules looked out mechanically for the pinks, and found them on the +outer sill of a sash window between two filthy drain-pipes. So here were +flowers; here, a garden, two yards long and six inches wide; here, +a wheat-ear; here, a whole life epitomized; but here, too, all the +miseries of that life. A ray of light falling from heaven as if by +special favor on those puny flowers and the vigorous wheat-ear brought +out in full relief the dust, the grease, and that nameless color, +peculiar to Parisian squalor, made of dirt, which crusted and spotted +the damp walls, the worm-eaten balusters, the disjointed window-casings, +and the door originally red. Presently the cough of an old woman, and a +heavy female step, shuffling painfully in list slippers, announced the +coming of the mother of Ida Gruget. The creature opened the door and +came out upon the landing, looked up, and said:-- + +“Ah! is this Monsieur Bocquillon? Why, no? But perhaps you’re his +brother. What can I do for you? Come in, monsieur.” + +Jules followed her into the first room, where he saw, huddled together, +cages, household utensils, ovens, furniture, little earthenware +dishes full of food or water for the dog and the cats, a wooden clock, +bed-quilts, engravings of Eisen, heaps of old iron, all these things +mingled and massed together in a way that produced a most grotesque +effect,--a true Parisian dusthole, in which were not lacking a few old +numbers of the “Constitutionel.” + +Jules, impelled by a sense of prudence, paid no attention to the widow’s +invitation when she said civilly, showing him an inner room:-- + +“Come in here, monsieur, and warm yourself.” + +Fearing to be overheard by Ferragus, Jules asked himself whether it were +not wisest to conclude the arrangement he had come to make with the old +woman in the crowded antechamber. A hen, which descended cackling from +a loft, roused him from this inward meditation. He came to a resolution, +and followed Ida’s mother into the inner room, whither they were +accompanied by the wheezy pug, a personage otherwise mute, who jumped +upon a stool. Madame Gruget showed the assumption of semi-pauperism +when she invited her visitor to warm himself. Her fire-pot contained, or +rather concealed two bits of sticks, which lay apart: the grating was +on the ground, its handle in the ashes. The mantel-shelf, adorned with +a little wax Jesus under a shade of squares of glass held together with +blue paper, was piled with wools, bobbins, and tools used in the making +of gimps and trimmings. Jules examined everything in the room with a +curiosity that was full of interest, and showed, in spite of himself, an +inward satisfaction. + +“Well, monsieur, tell me, do you want to buy any of my things?” said the +old woman, seating herself in a cane arm-chair, which appeared to be +her headquarters. In it she kept her handkerchief, snuffbox, knitting, +half-peeled vegetables, spectacles, calendar, a bit of livery gold lace +just begun, a greasy pack of cards, and two volumes of novels, all stuck +into the hollow of the back. This article of furniture, in which the +old creature was floating down the river of life, was not unlike the +encyclopedic bag which a woman carries with her when she travels; in +which may be found a compendium of her household belongings, from the +portrait of her husband to _eau de Melisse_ for faintness, sugarplums +for the children, and English court-plaster in case of cuts. + +Jules studied all. He looked attentively at Madame Gruget’s yellow +visage, at her gray eyes without either brows or lashes, her toothless +mouth, her wrinkles marked in black, her rusty cap, her still more rusty +ruffles, her cotton petticoat full of holes, her worn-out slippers, her +disabled fire-pot, her table heaped with dishes and silks and work begun +or finished, in wool or cotton, in the midst of which stood a bottle of +wine. Then he said to himself: “This old woman has some passion, some +strong liking or vice; I can make her do my will.” + +“Madame,” he said aloud, with a private sign of intelligence, “I have +come to order some livery trimmings.” Then he lowered his voice. “I +know,” he continued, “that you have a lodger who has taken the name of +Camuset.” The old woman looked at him suddenly, but without any sign of +astonishment. “Now, tell me, can we come to an understanding? This is a +question which means fortune for you.” + +“Monsieur,” she replied, “speak out, and don’t be afraid. There’s no one +here. But if I had any one above, it would be impossible for him to hear +you.” + +“Ha! the sly old creature, she answers like a Norman,” thought Jules, +“We shall agree. Do not give yourself the trouble to tell falsehoods, +madame,” he resumed, “In the first place, let me tell you that I mean no +harm either to you or to your lodger who is suffering from cautery, or +to your daughter Ida, a stay-maker, the friend of Ferragus. You see, I +know all your affairs. Do not be uneasy; I am not a detective policeman, +nor do I desire anything that can hurt your conscience. A young lady +will come here to-morrow-morning at half-past nine o’clock, to talk with +this lover of your daughter. I want to be where I can see all and hear +all, without being seen or heard by them. If you will furnish me with +the means of doing so, I will reward that service with the gift of two +thousand francs and a yearly stipend of six hundred. My notary shall +prepare a deed before you this evening, and I will give him the money to +hold; he will pay the two thousand to you to-morrow after the conference +at which I desire to be present, as you will then have given proofs of +your good faith.” + +“Will it injure my daughter, my good monsieur?” she asked, casting a +cat-like glance of doubt and uneasiness upon him. + +“In no way, madame. But, in any case, it seems to me that your daughter +does not treat you well. A girl who is loved by so rich a man as +Ferragus ought to make you more comfortable than you seem to be.” + +“Ah, my dear monsieur, just think, not so much as one poor ticket to +the Ambigu, or the Gaiete, where she can go as much as she likes. It’s +shameful! A girl for whom I sold my silver forks and spoons! and now +I eat, at my age, with German metal,--and all to pay for her +apprenticeship, and give her a trade, where she could coin money if she +chose. As for that, she’s like me, clever as a witch; I must do her that +justice. But, I will say, she might give me her old silk gowns,--I, +who am so fond of wearing silk. But no! Monsieur, she dines at the +Cadran-Bleu at fifty francs a head, and rolls in her carriage as if she +were a princess, and despises her mother for a Colin-Lampon. Heavens and +earth! what heedless young ones we’ve brought into the world; we have +nothing to boast of there. A mother, monsieur, can’t be anything else +but a good mother; and I’ve concealed that girl’s ways, and kept her in +my bosom, to take the bread out of my mouth and cram everything into her +own. Well, well! and now she comes and fondles one a little, and says, +‘How d’ye do, mother?’ And that’s all the duty she thinks of paying. But +she’ll have children one of these days, and then she’ll find out what it +is to have such baggage,--which one can’t help loving all the same.” + +“Do you mean that she does nothing for you?” + +“Ah, nothing? No, monsieur, I didn’t say that; if she did nothing, that +would be a little too much. She gives me my rent and thirty-six francs a +month. But, monsieur, at my age,--and I’m fifty-two years old, with +eyes that feel the strain at night,--ought I to be working in this way? +Besides, why won’t she have me to live with her? I should shame her, +should I? Then let her say so. Faith, one ought to be buried out of the +way of such dogs of children, who forget you before they’ve even shut +the door.” + +She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, and with it a lottery +ticket that dropped on the floor; but she hastily picked it up, saying, +“Hi! that’s the receipt for my taxes.” + +Jules at once perceived the reason of the sagacious parsimony of which +the mother complained; and he was the more certain that the widow Gruget +would agree to the proposed bargain. + +“Well, then, madame,” he said, “accept what I offer you.” + +“Did you say two thousand francs in ready money, and six hundred +annuity, monsieur?” + +“Madame, I’ve changed my mind; I will promise you only three hundred +annuity. This way seems more to my own interests. But I will give you +five thousand francs in ready money. Wouldn’t you like that as well?” + +“Bless me, yes, monsieur!” + +“You’ll get more comfort out of it; and you can go to the Ambigu and +Franconi’s at your ease in a coach.” + +“As for Franconi, I don’t like that, for they don’t talk there. +Monsieur, if I accept, it is because it will be very advantageous for +my child. I sha’n’t be a drag on her any longer. Poor little thing! +I’m glad she has her pleasures, after all. Ah, monsieur, youth must be +amused! And so, if you assure me that no harm will come to anybody--” + +“Not to anybody,” replied Jules. “But now, how will you manage it?” + +“Well, monsieur, if I give Monsieur Ferragus a little tea made of +poppy-heads to-night, he’ll sleep sound, the dear man; and he needs it, +too, because of his sufferings, for he does suffer, I can tell you, and +more’s the pity. But I’d like to know what a healthy man like him wants +to burn his back for, just to get rid of a tic douleureux which troubles +him once in two years. However, to come back to our business. I have my +neighbor’s key; her lodging is just above mine, and in it there’s a +room adjoining the one where Monsieur Ferragus is, with only a +partition between them. My neighbor is away in the country for ten days. +Therefore, if I make a hole to-night while Monsieur Ferragus is sound +asleep, you can see and hear them to-morrow at your ease. I’m on good +terms with a locksmith,--a very friendly man, who talks like an angel, +and he’ll do the work for me and say nothing about it.” + +“Then here’s a hundred francs for him. Come to-night to Monsieur +Desmaret’s office; he’s a notary, and here’s his address. At nine +o’clock the deed will be ready, but--silence!” + +“Enough, monsieur; as you say--silence! Au revoir, monsieur.” + +Jules went home, almost calmed by the certainty that he should know the +truth on the morrow. As he entered the house, the porter gave him the +letter properly resealed. + +“How do you feel now?” he said to his wife, in spite of the coldness +that separated them. + +“Pretty well, Jules,” she answered in a coaxing voice, “do come and dine +beside me.” + +“Very good,” he said, giving her the letter. “Here is something +Fouguereau gave me for you.” + +Clemence, who was very pale, colored high when she saw the letter, and +that sudden redness was a fresh blow to her husband. + +“Is that joy,” he said, laughing, “or the effect of expectation?” + +“Oh, of many things!” she said, examining the seal. + +“I leave you now for a few moments.” + +He went down to his study, and wrote to his brother, giving him +directions about the payment to the widow Gruget. When he returned, he +found his dinner served on a little table by his wife’s bedside, and +Josephine ready to wait on him. + +“If I were up how I should like to serve you myself,” said Clemence, +when Josephine had left them. “Oh, yes, on my knees!” she added, passing +her white hands through her husband’s hair. “Dear, noble heart, you were +very kind and gracious to me just now. You did me more good by showing +me such confidence than all the doctors on earth could do me with their +prescriptions. That feminine delicacy of yours--for you do know how +to love like a woman--well, it has shed a balm into my heart which has +almost cured me. There’s truce between us, Jules; lower your head, that +I may kiss it.” + +Jules could not deny himself the pleasure of that embrace. But it was +not without a feeling of remorse in his heart; he felt himself small +before this woman whom he was still tempted to think innocent. A sort +of melancholy joy possessed him. A tender hope shone on her features +in spite of their grieved expression. They both were equally unhappy +in deceiving each other; another caress, and, unable to resist their +suffering, all would then have been avowed. + +“To-morrow evening, Clemence.” + +“No, no; to-morrow morning, by twelve o’clock, you will know all, and +you’ll kneel down before your wife--Oh, no! you shall not be humiliated; +you are all forgiven now; you have done no wrong. Listen, Jules; +yesterday you did crush me--harshly; but perhaps my life would not have +been complete without that agony; it may be a shadow that will make our +coming days celestial.” + +“You lay a spell upon me,” cried Jules; “you fill me with remorse.” + +“Poor love! destiny is stronger than we, and I am not the accomplice of +mine. I shall go out to-morrow.” + +“At what hour?” asked Jules. + +“At half-past nine.” + +“Clemence,” he said, “take every precaution; consult Doctor Desplein and +old Haudry.” + +“I shall consult nothing but my heart and my courage.” + +“I shall leave you free; you will not see me till twelve o’clock.” + +“Won’t you keep me company this evening? I feel so much better.” + +After attending to some business, Jules returned to his wife,--recalled +by her invincible attraction. His passion was stronger than his anguish. + +The next day, at nine o’clock Jules left home, hurried to the rue des +Enfants-Rouges, went upstairs, and rang the bell of the widow Gruget’s +lodgings. + +“Ah! you’ve kept your word, as true as the dawn. Come in, monsieur,” + said the old woman when she saw him. “I’ve made you a cup of coffee with +cream,” she added, when the door was closed. “Oh! real cream; I saw it +milked myself at the dairy we have in this very street.” + +“Thank you, no, madame, nothing. Take me at once--” + +“Very good, monsieur. Follow me, this way.” + +She led him up into the room above her own, where she showed him, +triumphantly, an opening about the size of a two-franc piece, made +during the night, in a place, which, in each room, was above a wardrobe. +In order to look through it, Jules was forced to maintain himself in +rather a fatiguing attitude, by standing on a step-ladder which the +widow had been careful to place there. + +“There’s a gentleman with him,” she whispered, as she retired. + +Jules then beheld a man employed in dressing a number of wounds on the +shoulders of Ferragus, whose head he recognized from the description +given to him by Monsieur de Maulincour. + +“When do you think those wounds will heal?” asked Ferragus. + +“I don’t know,” said the other man. “The doctors say those wounds will +require seven or eight more dressings.” + +“Well, then, good-bye until to-night,” said Ferragus, holding out his +hand to the man, who had just replaced the bandage. + +“Yes, to-night,” said the other, pressing his hand cordially. “I wish I +could see you past your sufferings.” + +“To-morrow Monsieur de Funcal’s papers will be delivered to us, and +Henri Bourignard will be dead forever,” said Ferragus. “Those fatal +marks which have cost us so dear no longer exist. I shall become once +more a social being, a man among men, and more of a man than the sailor +whom the fishes are eating. God knows it is not for my own sake I have +made myself a Portuguese count!” + +“Poor Gratien!--you, the wisest of us all, our beloved brother, the +Benjamin of the band; as you very well know.” + +“Adieu; keep an eye on Maulincour.” + +“You can rest easy on that score.” + +“Ho! stay, marquis,” cried the convict. + +“What is it?” + +“Ida is capable of everything after the scene of last night. If she +should throw herself into the river, I would not fish her out. She knows +the secret of my name, and she’ll keep it better there. But still, look +after her; for she is, in her way, a good girl.” + +“Very well.” + +The stranger departed. Ten minutes later Jules heard, with a feverish +shudder, the rustle of a silk gown, and almost recognized by their sound +the steps of his wife. + +“Well, father,” said Clemence, “my poor father, are you better? What +courage you have shown!” + +“Come here, my child,” replied Ferragus, holding out his hand to her. + +Clemence held her forehead to him and he kissed it. + +“Now tell me, what is the matter, my little girl? What are these new +troubles?” + +“Troubles, father! it concerns the life or death of the daughter you +have loved so much. Indeed you must, as I wrote you yesterday, you +_must_ find a way to see my poor Jules to-day. If you knew how good he +has been to me, in spite of all suspicions apparently so legitimate. +Father, my love is my very life. Would you see me die? Ah! I have +suffered so much that my life, I feel it! is in danger.” + +“And all because of the curiosity of that miserable Parisian?” cried +Ferragus. “I’d burn Paris down if I lost you, my daughter. Ha! you may +know what a lover is, but you don’t yet know what a father can do.” + +“Father, you frighten me when you look at me in that way. Don’t weigh +such different feelings in the same scales. I had a husband before I +knew that my father was living--” + +“If your husband was the first to lay kisses on your forehead, I was +the first to drop tears upon it,” replied Ferragus. “But don’t feel +frightened, Clemence, speak to me frankly. I love you enough to rejoice +in the knowledge that you are happy, though I, your father, may have +little place in your heart, while you fill the whole of mine.” + +“Ah! what good such words do me! You make me love you more and more, +though I seem to rob something from my Jules. But, my kind father, think +what his sufferings are. What may I tell him to-day?” + +“My child, do you think I waited for your letter to save you from this +threatened danger? Do you know what will become of those who venture to +touch your happiness, or come between us? Have you never been aware +that a second providence was guarding your life? Twelve men of power and +intellect form a phalanx round your love and your existence,--ready to +do all things to protect you. Think of your father, who has risked death +to meet you in the public promenades, or see you asleep in your little +bed in your mother’s home, during the night-time. Could such a father, +to whom your innocent caresses give strength to live when a man of honor +ought to have died to escape his infamy, could _I_, in short, I who +breathe through your lips, and see with your eyes, and feel with your +heart, could I fail to defend with the claws of a lion and the soul of a +father, my only blessing, my life, my daughter? Since the death of that +angel, your mother, I have dreamed but of one thing,--the happiness of +pressing you to my heart in the face of the whole earth, of burying +the convict,--” He paused a moment, and then added: “--of giving you a +father, a father who could press without shame your husband’s hand, who +could live without fear in both your hearts, who could say to all the +world, ‘This is my daughter,’--in short, to be a happy father.” + +“Oh, father! father!” + +“After infinite difficulty, after searching the whole globe,” continued +Ferragus, “my friends have found me the skin of a dead man in which to +take my place once more in social life. A few days hence, I shall be +Monsieur de Funcal, a Portuguese count. Ah! my dear child, there are few +men of my age who would have had the patience to learn Portuguese and +English, which were spoken fluently by that devil of a sailor, who was +drowned at sea.” + +“But, my dear father--” + +“All has been foreseen, and prepared. A few days hence, his Majesty John +VI., King of Portugal will be my accomplice. My child, you must have a +little patience where your father has had so much. But ah! what would +I not do to reward your devotion for the last three years,--coming +religiously to comfort your old father, at the risk of your own peace!” + +“Father!” cried Clemence, taking his hands and kissing them. + +“Come, my child, have courage still; keep my fatal secret a few days +longer, till the end is reached. Jules is not an ordinary man, I know; +but are we sure that his lofty character and his noble love may not +impel him to dislike the daughter of a--” + +“Oh!” cried Clemence, “you have read my heart; I have no other fear than +that. The very thought turns me to ice,” she added, in a heart-rending +tone. “But, father, think that I have promised him the truth in two +hours.” + +“If so, my daughter, tell him to go to the Portuguese embassy and see +the Comte de Funcal, your father. I will be there.” + +“But Monsieur de Maulincour has told him of Ferragus. Oh, father, what +torture, to deceive, deceive, deceive!” + +“Need you say that to me? But only a few days more, and no living man +will be able to expose me. Besides, Monsieur de Maulincour is beyond +the faculty of remembering. Come, dry your tears, my silly child, and +think--” + +At this instant a terrible cry rang from the room in which Jules +Desmarets was stationed. + +The clamor was heard by Madame Jules and Ferragus through the opening of +the wall, and struck them with terror. + +“Go and see what it means, Clemence,” said her father. + +Clemence ran rapidly down the little staircase, found the door into +Madame Gruget’s apartment wide open, heard the cries which echoed from +the upper floor, went up the stairs, guided by the noise of sobs, and +caught these words before she entered the fatal chamber:-- + +“You, monsieur, you, with your horrid inventions,--you are the cause of +her death!” + +“Hush, miserable woman!” replied Jules, putting his handkerchief on the +mouth of the old woman, who began at once to cry out, “Murder! help!” + +At this instant Clemence entered, saw her husband, uttered a cry, and +fled away. + +“Who will save my child?” cried the widow Gruget. “You have murdered +her.” + +“How?” asked Jules, mechanically, for he was horror-struck at being seen +by his wife. + +“Read that,” said the old woman, giving him a letter. “Can money or +annuities console me for that?” + + + Farewell, mother! I bequeeth you what I have. I beg your pardon + for my forlts, and the last greef to which I put you by ending my + life in the river. Henry, who I love more than myself, says I have + made his misfortune, and as he has drifen me away, and I have lost + all my hops of merrying him, I am going to droun myself. I shall + go abov Neuilly, so that they can’t put me in the Morg. If Henry + does not hate me anny more after I am ded, ask him to berry a pore + girl whose hart beet for him only, and to forgif me, for I did + rong to meddle in what didn’t consern me. Tak care of his wounds. + How much he sufered, pore fellow! I shall have as much corage to + kill myself as he had to burn his bak. Carry home the corsets I + have finished. And pray God for your daughter. + +Ida. + + +“Take this letter to Monsieur de Funcal, who is upstairs,” said Jules. +“He alone can save your daughter, if there is still time.” + +So saying he disappeared, running like a man who has committed a crime. +His legs trembled. The hot blood poured into his swelling heart in +torrents greater than at any other moment of his life, and left it again +with untold violence. Conflicting thoughts struggled in his mind, and +yet one thought predominated,--he had not been loyal to the being he +loved most. It was impossible for him to argue with his conscience, +whose voice, rising high with conviction, came like an echo of those +inward cries of his love during the cruel hours of doubt he had lately +lived through. + +He spent the greater part of the day wandering about Paris, for he dared +not go home. This man of integrity and honor feared to meet the spotless +brow of the woman he had misjudged. We estimate wrongdoing in proportion +to the purity of our conscience; the deed which is scarcely a fault +in some hearts, takes the proportions of a crime in certain unsullied +souls. The slightest stain on the white garment of a virgin makes it a +thing ignoble as the rags of a mendicant. Between the two the difference +lies in the misfortune of the one, the wrong-doing of the other. God +never measures repentance; he never apportions it. As much is needed +to efface a spot as to obliterate the crimes of a lifetime. These +reflections fell with all their weight on Jules; passions, like human +laws, will not pardon, and their reasoning is more just; for are they +not based upon a conscience of their own as infallible as an instinct? + +Jules finally came home pale, despondent, crushed beneath a sense of his +wrong-doing, and yet expressing in spite of himself the joy his wife’s +innocence had given him. He entered her room all throbbing with emotion; +she was in bed with a high fever. He took her hand, kissed it, and +covered it with tears. + +“Dear angel,” he said, when they were alone, “it is repentance.” + +“And for what?” she answered. + +As she made that reply, she laid her head back upon the pillow, closed +her eyes, and remained motionless, keeping the secret of her sufferings +that she might not frighten her husband,--the tenderness of a mother, +the delicacy of an angel! All the woman was in her answer. + +The silence lasted long. Jules, thinking her asleep, went to question +Josephine as to her mistress’s condition. + +“Madame came home half-dead, monsieur. We sent at once for Monsieur +Haudry.” + +“Did he come? What did he say?” + +“He said nothing, monsieur. He did not seem satisfied; gave orders that +no one should go near madame except the nurse, and said he should come +back this evening.” + +Jules returned softly to his wife’s room and sat down in a chair before +the bed. There he remained, motionless, with his eyes fixed on those +of Clemence. When she raised her eyelids she saw him, and through those +lids passed a tender glance, full of passionate love, free from reproach +and bitterness,--a look which fell like a flame of fire upon the heart +of that husband, nobly absolved and forever loved by the being whom he +had killed. The presentiment of death struck both their minds with equal +force. Their looks were blended in one anguish, as their hearts had long +been blended in one love, felt equally by both, and shared equally. No +questions were uttered; a horrible certainty was there,--in the wife +an absolute generosity; in the husband an awful remorse; then, in both +souls the same vision of the end, the same conviction of fatality. + +There came a moment when, thinking his wife asleep, Jules kissed her +softly on the forehead; then after long contemplation of that cherished +face, he said:-- + +“Oh God! leave me this angel still a little while that I may blot out my +wrong by love and adoration. As a daughter, she is sublime; as a wife, +what word can express her?” + +Clemence raised her eyes; they were full of tears. + +“You pain me,” she said, in a feeble voice. + +It was getting late; Doctor Haudry came, and requested the husband to +withdraw during his visit. When the doctor left the sick-room Jules +asked him no question; one gesture was enough. + +“Call in consultation any physician in whom you place confidence; I may +be wrong.” + +“Doctor, tell me the truth. I am a man, and I can bear it. Besides, +I have the deepest interest in knowing it; I have certain affairs to +settle.” + +“Madame Jules is dying,” said the physician. “There is some moral malady +which has made great progress, and it has complicated her physical +condition, which was already dangerous, and made still more so by her +great imprudence. To walk about barefooted at night! to go out when I +forbade it! on foot yesterday in the rain, to-day in a carriage! She +must have meant to kill herself. But still, my judgment is not final; +she has youth, and a most amazing nervous strength. It may be best to +risk all to win all by employing some violent reagent. But I will not +take upon myself to order it; nor will I advise it; in consultation I +shall oppose it.” + +Jules returned to his wife. For eleven days and eleven nights he +remained beside her bed, taking no sleep during the day when he laid his +head upon the foot of the bed. No man ever pushed the jealousy of care +and the craving for devotion to such an extreme as he. He could not +endure that the slightest service should be done by others for his wife. +There were days of uncertainty, false hopes, now a little better, then +a crisis,--in short, all the horrible mutations of death as it wavers, +hesitates, and finally strikes. Madame Jules always found strength to +smile at her husband. She pitied him, knowing that soon he would be +alone. It was a double death,--that of life, that of love; but life grew +feebler, and love grew mightier. One frightful night there was, when +Clemence passed through that delirium which precedes the death of youth. +She talked of her happy love, she talked of her father; she related her +mother’s revelations on her death-bed, and the obligations that mother +had laid upon her. She struggled, not for life, but for her love which +she could not leave. + +“Grant, O God!” she said, “that he may not know I want him to die with +me.” + +Jules, unable to bear the scene, was at that moment in the adjoining +room, and did not hear the prayer, which he would doubtless have +fulfilled. + +When this crisis was over, Madame Jules recovered some strength. The +next day she was beautiful and tranquil; hope seemed to come to her; she +adorned herself, as the dying often do. Then she asked to be alone all +day, and sent away her husband with one of those entreaties made so +earnestly that they are granted as we grant the prayer of a little +child. + +Jules, indeed, had need of this day. He went to Monsieur de Maulincour +to demand the satisfaction agreed upon between them. It was not without +great difficulty that he succeeded in reaching the presence of the +author of these misfortunes; but the vidame, when he learned that the +visit related to an affair of honor, obeyed the precepts of his whole +life, and himself took Jules into the baron’s chamber. + +Monsieur Desmarets looked about him in search of his antagonist. + +“Yes! that is really he,” said the vidame, motioning to a man who was +sitting in an arm-chair beside the fire. + +“Who is it? Jules?” said the dying man in a broken voice. + +Auguste had lost the only faculty that makes us live--memory. Jules +Desmarets recoiled with horror at this sight. He could not even +recognize the elegant young man in that thing without--as Bossuet +said--a name in any language. It was, in truth, a corpse with whitened +hair, its bones scarce covered with a wrinkled, blighted, withered +skin,--a corpse with white eyes motionless, mouth hideously gaping, +like those of idiots or vicious men killed by excesses. No trace of +intelligence remained upon that brow, nor in any feature; nor was +there in that flabby flesh either color or the faintest appearance of +circulating blood. Here was a shrunken, withered creature brought to +the state of those monsters we see preserved in museums, floating in +alchohol. Jules fancied that he saw above that face the terrible head +of Ferragus, and his own anger was silenced by such a vengeance. The +husband found pity in his heart for the vacant wreck of what was once a +man. + +“The duel has taken place,” said the vidame. + +“But he has killed many,” answered Jules, sorrowfully. + +“And many dear ones,” added the old man. “His grandmother is dying; and +I shall follow her soon into the grave.” + +On the morrow of this day, Madame Jules grew worse from hour to hour. +She used a moment’s strength to take a letter from beneath her pillow, +and gave it eagerly to her husband with a sign that was easy to +understand,--she wished to give him, in a kiss, her last breath. He +took it, and she died. Jules fell half-dead himself and was taken to his +brother’s house. There, as he deplored in tears his absence of the day +before, his brother told him that this separation was eagerly desired +by Clemence, who wished to spare him the sight of the religious +paraphernalia, so terrible to tender imaginations, which the Church +displays when conferring the last sacraments upon the dying. + +“You could not have borne it,” said his brother. “I could hardly bear +the sight myself, and all the servants wept. Clemence was like a saint. +She gathered strength to bid us all good-bye, and that voice, heard for +the last time, rent our hearts. When she asked pardon for the pain she +might unwillingly have caused her servants, there were cries and sobs +and--” + +“Enough! enough!” said Jules. + +He wanted to be alone, that he might read the last words of the woman +whom all had loved, and who had passed away like a flower. + + + “My beloved, this is my last will. Why should we not make wills + for the treasures of our hearts, as for our worldly property? Was + not my love my property, my all? I mean here to dispose of my + love: it was the only fortune of your Clemence, and it is all that + she can leave you in dying. Jules, you love me still, and I die + happy. The doctors may explain my death as they think best; I + alone know the true cause. I shall tell it to you, whatever pain + it may cause you. I cannot carry with me, in a heart all yours, a + secret which you do not share, although I die the victim of an + enforced silence. + + “Jules, I was nurtured and brought up in the deepest solitude, far + from the vices and the falsehoods of the world, by the loving + woman whom you knew. Society did justice to her conventional + charm, for that is what pleases society; but I knew secretly her + precious soul, I could cherish the mother who made my childhood a + joy without bitterness, and I knew why I cherished her. Was not + that to love doubly? Yes, I loved her, I feared her, I respected + her; yet nothing oppressed my heart, neither fear nor respect. I + was all in all to her; she was all in all to me. For nineteen + happy years, without a care, my soul, solitary amid the world + which muttered round me, reflected only her pure image; my heart + beat for her and through her. I was scrupulously pious; I found + pleasure in being innocent before God. My mother cultivated all + noble and self-respecting sentiments in me. Ah! it gives me + happiness to tell you, Jules, that I now know I was indeed a young + girl, and that I came to you virgin in heart. + + “When I left that absolute solitude, when, for the first time, I + braided my hair and crowned it with almond blossoms, when I added, + with delight, a few satin knots to my white dress, thinking of the + world I was to see, and which I was curious to see--Jules, that + innocent and modest coquetry was done for you! Yes, as I entered + the world, I saw _you_ first of all. Your face, I remarked it; it + stood out from the rest; your person pleased me; your voice, your + manners all inspired me with pleasant presentiments. When you came + up, when you spoke to me, the color on your forehead, the tremble + in your voice,--that moment gave me memories with which I throb as + I now write to you, as I now, for the last time, think of them. + Our love was at first the keenest of sympathies, but it was soon + discovered by each of us and then, as speedily, shared; just as, + in after times, we have both equally felt and shared innumerable + happinesses. From that moment my mother was only second in my + heart. Next, I was yours, all yours. There is my life, and all my + life, dear husband. + + “And here is what remains for me to tell you. One evening, a few + days before my mother’s death, she revealed to me the secret of + her life,--not without burning tears. I have loved you better + since the day I learned from the priest as he absolved my mother + that there are passions condemned by the world and by the Church. + But surely God will not be severe when they are the sins of souls + as tender as that of my mother; only, that dear woman could never + bring herself to repent. She loved much, Jules; she was all love. + So I have prayed daily for her, but never judged her. + + “That night I learned the cause of her deep maternal tenderness; + then I also learned that there was in Paris a man whose life and + whose love centred on me; that your fortune was his doing, and + that he loved you. I learned also that he was exiled from society + and bore a tarnished name; but that he was more unhappy for me, + for us, than for himself. My mother was all his comfort; she was + dying, and I promised to take her place. With all the ardor of a + soul whose feelings had never been perverted, I saw only the + happiness of softening the bitterness of my mother’s last moments, + and I pledged myself to continue her work of secret charity,--the + charity of the heart. The first time that I saw my father was + beside the bed where my mother had just expired. When he raised + his tearful eyes, it was to see in me a revival of his dead hopes. + I had sworn, not to tell a lie, but to keep silence; and that + silence what woman could have broken it? + + “There is my fault, Jules,--a fault which I expiate by death. I + doubted you. But fear is so natural to a woman; above all, a woman + who knows what it is that she may lose. I trembled for our love. + My father’s secret seemed to me the death of my happiness; and the + more I loved, the more I feared. I dared not avow this feeling to + my father; it would have wounded him, and in his situation a wound + was agony. But, without a word from me, he shared my fears. That + fatherly heart trembled for my happiness as much as I trembled for + myself; but it dared not speak, obeying the same delicacy that + kept me mute. Yes, Jules, I believed that you could not love the + daughter of Gratien Bourignard as you loved your Clemence. Without + that terror could I have kept back anything from you,--you who + live in every fold of my heart? + + “The day when that odious, unfortunate young officer spoke to you, + I was forced to lie. That day, for the second time in my life, I + knew what pain was; that pain has steadily increased until this + moment, when I speak with you for the last time. What matters now + my father’s position? You know all. I could, by the help of my + love, have conquered my illness and borne its sufferings; but I + cannot stifle the voice of doubt. Is it not probable that my + origin would affect the purity of your love and weaken it, + diminish it? That fear nothing has been able to quench in me. + There, Jules, is the cause of my death. I cannot live fearing a + word, a look,--a word you may never say, a look you may never + give; but, I cannot help it, I fear them. I die beloved; there is + my consolation. + + “I have known, for the last three years, that my father and his + friends have well-nigh moved the world to deceive the world. That + I might have a station in life, they have bought a dead man, a + reputation, a fortune, so that a living man might live again, + restored; and all this for you, for us. We were never to have + known of it. Well, my death will save my father from that + falsehood, for he will not survive me. + + “Farewell, Jules, my heart is all here. To show you my love in its + agony of fear, is not that bequeathing my whole soul to you? I + could never have the strength to speak to you; I have only enough + to write. I have just confessed to God the sins of my life. I have + promised to fill my mind with the King of Heaven only; but I must + confess to him who is, for me, the whole of earth. Alas! shall I + not be pardoned for this last sigh between the life that was and + the life that shall be? Farewell, my Jules, my loved one! I go to + God, with whom is Love without a cloud, to whom you will follow + me. There, before his throne, united forever, we may love each + other throughout the ages. This hope alone can comfort me. If I am + worthy of being there at once, I will follow you through life. My + soul shall bear your company; it will wrap you about, for _you_ + must stay here still,--ah! here below. Lead a holy life that you + may the more surely come to me. You can do such good upon this + earth! Is it not an angel’s mission for the suffering soul to shed + happiness about him,--to give to others that which he has not? I + bequeath you to the Unhappy. Their smiles, their tears, are the + only ones of which I cannot be jealous. We shall find a charm in + sweet beneficence. Can we not live together still if you would + join my name--your Clemence--in these good works? + + “After loving as we have loved, there is naught but God, Jules. + God does not lie; God never betrays. Adore him only, I charge you! + Lead those who suffer up to him; comfort the sorrowing members of + his Church. Farewell, dear soul that I have filled! I know you; + you will never love again. I may die happy in the thought that + makes all women happy. Yes, my grave will be your heart. After + this childhood I have just related, has not my life flowed on + within that heart? Dead, you will never drive me forth. I am proud + of that rare life! You will know me only in the flower of my + youth; I leave you regrets without disillusions. Jules, it is a + happy death. + + “You, who have so fully understood me, may I ask one thing more of + you,--superfluous request, perhaps, the fulfilment of a woman’s + fancy, the prayer of a jealousy we all must feel,--I pray you to + burn all that especially belonged to _us_, destroy our chamber, + annihilate all that is a memory of our happiness. + + “Once more, farewell,--the last farewell! It is all love, and so + will be my parting thought, my parting breath.” + + +When Jules had read that letter there came into his heart one of those +wild frenzies of which it is impossible to describe the awful anguish. +All sorrows are individual; their effects are not subjected to any fixed +rule. Certain men will stop their ears to hear nothing; some women close +their eyes hoping never to see again; great and splendid souls are met +with who fling themselves into sorrow as into an abyss. In the matter of +despair, all is true. + + + + +CHAPTER V. CONCLUSION + + +Jules escaped from his brother’s house and returned home, wishing +to pass the night beside his wife, and see till the last moment that +celestial creature. As he walked along with an indifference to life +known only to those who have reached the last degree of wretchedness, +he thought of how, in India, the law ordained that widows should die; he +longed to die. He was not yet crushed; the fever of his grief was still +upon him. He reached his home and went up into the sacred chamber; he +saw his Clemence on the bed of death, beautiful, like a saint, her hair +smoothly laid upon her forehead, her hands joined, her body wrapped +already in its shroud. Tapers were lighted, a priest was praying, +Josephine kneeling in a corner, wept, and, near the bed, were two men. +One was Ferragus. He stood erect, motionless, gazing at his daughter +with dry eyes; his head you might have taken for bronze: he did not see +Jules. + +The other man was Jacquet,--Jacquet, to whom Madame Jules had been ever +kind. Jacquet felt for her one of those respectful friendships which +rejoice the untroubled heart; a gentle passion; love without its desires +and its storms. He had come to pay his debt of tears, to bid a long +adieu to the wife of his friend, to kiss, for the first time, the icy +brow of the woman he had tacitly made his sister. + +All was silence. Here death was neither terrible as in the churches, nor +pompous as it makes its way along the streets; no, it was death in the +home, a tender death; here were pomps of the heart, tears drawn from the +eyes of all. Jules sat down beside Jacquet and pressed his hand; then, +without uttering a word, all these persons remained as they were till +morning. + +When daylight paled the tapers, Jacquet, foreseeing the painful scenes +which would then take place, drew Jules away into another room. At this +moment the husband looked at the father, and Ferragus looked at +Jules. The two sorrows arraigned each other, measured each other, and +comprehended each other in that look. A flash of fury shone for an +instant in the eyes of Ferragus. + +“You killed her,” thought he. + +“Why was I distrusted?” seemed the answer of the husband. + +The scene was one that might have passed between two tigers recognizing +the futility of a struggle and, after a moment’s hesitation, turning +away, without even a roar. + +“Jacquet,” said Jules, “have you attended to everything?” + +“Yes, to everything,” replied his friend, “but a man had forestalled me +who had ordered and paid for all.” + +“He tears his daughter from me!” cried the husband, with the violence of +despair. + +Jules rushed back to his wife’s room; but the father was there no +longer. Clemence had now been placed in a leaden coffin, and workmen +were employed in soldering the cover. Jules returned, horrified by the +sight; the sound of the hammers the men were using made him mechanically +burst into tears. + +“Jacquet,” he said, “out of this dreadful night one idea has come to +me, only one, but one I must make a reality at any price. I cannot let +Clemence stay in any cemetery in Paris. I wish to burn her,--to gather +her ashes and keep her with me. Say nothing of this, but manage on my +behalf to have it done. I am going to _her_ chamber, where I shall stay +until the time has come to go. You alone may come in there to tell me +what you have done. Go, and spare nothing.” + +During the morning, Madame Jules, after lying in a mortuary chapel at +the door of her house, was taken to Saint-Roch. The church was hung with +black throughout. The sort of luxury thus displayed had drawn a crowd; +for in Paris all things are sights, even true grief. There are people +who stand at their windows to see how a son deplores a mother as he +follows her body; there are others who hire commodious seats to see how +a head is made to fall. No people in the world have such insatiate eyes +as the Parisians. On this occasion, inquisitive minds were particularly +surprised to see the six lateral chapels at Saint-Roch also hung in +black. Two men in mourning were listening to a mortuary mass said in +each chapel. In the chancel no other persons but Monsieur Desmarets, +the notary, and Jacquet were present; the servants of the household were +outside the screen. To church loungers there was something inexplicable +in so much pomp and so few mourners. But Jules had been determined that +no indifferent persons should be present at the ceremony. + +High mass was celebrated with the sombre magnificence of funeral +services. Beside the ministers in ordinary of Saint-Roch, thirteen +priests from other parishes were present. Perhaps never did the _Dies +irae_ produce upon Christians, assembled by chance, by curiosity, and +thirsting for emotions, an effect so profound, so nervously glacial as +that now caused by this hymn when the eight voices of the precentors, +accompanied by the voices of the priests and the choir-boys, intoned it +alternately. From the six lateral chapels twelve other childish voices +rose shrilly in grief, mingling with the choir voices lamentably. From +all parts of the church this mourning issued; cries of anguish responded +to the cries of fear. That terrible music was the voice of sorrows +hidden from the world, of secret friendships weeping for the dead. +Never, in any human religion, have the terrors of the soul, violently +torn from the body and stormily shaken in presence of the fulminating +majesty of God, been rendered with such force. Before that clamor of +clamors all artists and their most passionate compositions must bow +humiliated. No, nothing can stand beside that hymn, which sums all human +passions, gives them a galvanic life beyond the coffin, and leaves them, +palpitating still, before the living and avenging God. These cries of +childhood, mingling with the tones of older voices, including thus in +the Song of Death all human life and its developments, recalling the +sufferings of the cradle, swelling to the griefs of other ages in +the stronger male voices and the quavering of the priests,--all this +strident harmony, big with lightning and thunderbolts, does it not speak +with equal force to the daring imagination, the coldest heart, nay, to +philosophers themselves? As we hear it, we think God speaks; the vaulted +arches of no church are mere material; they have a voice, they tremble, +they scatter fear by the might of their echoes. We think we see +unnumbered dead arising and holding out their hands. It is no more a +father, a wife, a child,--humanity itself is rising from its dust. + +It is impossible to judge of the catholic, apostolic, and Roman faith, +unless the soul has known that deepest grief of mourning for a loved one +lying beneath the pall; unless it has felt the emotions that fill the +heart, uttered by that Hymn of Despair, by those cries that crush the +mind, by that sacred fear augmenting strophe by strophe, ascending +heavenward, which terrifies, belittles, and elevates the soul, and +leaves within our minds, as the last sound ceases, a consciousness +of immortality. We have met and struggled with the vast idea of the +Infinite. After that, all is silent in the church. No word is said; +sceptics themselves _know not what they are feeling_. Spanish genius +alone was able to bring this untold majesty to untold griefs. + +When the solemn ceremony was over, twelve men came from the six chapels +and stood around the coffin to hear the song of hope which the Church +intones for the Christian soul before the human form is buried. Then, +each man entered alone a mourning-coach; Jacquet and Monsieur Desmarets +took the thirteenth; the servants followed on foot. An hour later, they +were at the summit of that cemetery popularly called Pere-Lachaise. The +unknown twelve men stood in a circle round the grave, where the coffin +had been laid in presence of a crowd of loiterers gathered from all +parts of this public garden. After a few short prayers the priest threw +a handful of earth on the remains of this woman, and the grave-diggers, +having asked for their fee, made haste to fill the grave in order to dig +another. + +Here this history seems to end; but perhaps it would be incomplete if, +after giving a rapid sketch of Parisian life, and following certain of +its capricious undulations, the effects of death were omitted. Death in +Paris is unlike death in any other capital; few persons know the trials +of true grief in its struggle with civilization, and the government of +Paris. Perhaps, also, Monsieur Jules and Ferragus XXIII. may have proved +sufficiently interesting to make a few words on their after life not +entirely out of place. Besides, some persons like to be told all, and +wish, as one of our cleverest critics has remarked, to know by what +chemical process oil was made to burn in Aladdin’s lamp. + +Jacquet, being a government employee, naturally applied to the +authorities for permission to exhume the body of Madame Jules and burn +it. He went to see the prefect of police, under whose protection the +dead sleep. That functionary demanded a petition. The blank was brought +that gives to sorrow its proper administrative form; it was necessary to +employ the bureaucratic jargon to express the wishes of a man so crushed +that words, perhaps, were lacking to him, and it was also necessary to +coldly and briefly repeat on the margin the nature of the request, +which was done in these words: “The petitioner respectfully asks for the +incineration of his wife.” + +When the official charged with making the report to the Councillor of +State and prefect of police read that marginal note, explaining the +object of the petition, and couched, as requested, in the plainest +terms, he said:-- + +“This is a serious matter! my report cannot be ready under eight days.” + +Jules, to whom Jacquet was obliged to speak of this delay, comprehended +the words that Ferragus had said in his hearing, “I’ll burn Paris!” + Nothing seemed to him now more natural than to annihilate that +receptacle of monstrous things. + +“But,” he said to Jacquet, “you must go to the minister of the Interior, +and get your minister to speak to him.” + +Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; it +was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet was a +persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally reached +the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom he had +made the private secretary of his own minister say a word. These high +protectors aiding, he obtained for the morrow a second interview, in +which, being armed with a line from the autocrat of Foreign affairs to +the pacha of the Interior, Jacquet hoped to carry the matter by assault. +He was ready with reasons, and answers to peremptory questions,--in +short, he was armed at all points; but he failed. + +“This matter does not concern me,” said the minister; “it belongs to the +prefect of police. Besides, there is no law giving a husband any legal +right to the body of his wife, nor to fathers those of their children. +The matter is serious. There are questions of public utility involved +which will have to be examined. The interests of the city of Paris might +suffer. Therefore if the matter depended on me, which it does not, I +could not decide _hic et nunc_; I should require a report.” + +A _report_ is to the present system of administration what limbo +or hades is to Christianity. Jacquet knew very well the mania for +“reports”; he had not waited until this occasion to groan at that +bureaucratic absurdity. He knew that since the invasion into public +business of the _Report_ (an administrative revolution consummated +in 1804) there was never known a single minister who would take upon +himself to have an opinion or to decide the slightest matter, unless +that opinion or matter had been winnowed, sifted, and plucked to bits +by the paper-spoilers, quill-drivers, and splendid intellects of his +particular bureau. Jacquet--he was one of those who are worthy of +Plutarch as biographer--saw that he had made a mistake in his management +of the affair, and had, in fact, rendered it impossible by trying to +proceed legally. The thing he should have done was to have taken Madame +Jules to one of Desmaret’s estates in the country; and there, under +the good-natured authority of some village mayor to have gratified the +sorrowful longing of his friend. Law, constitutional and administrative, +begets nothing; it is a barren monster for peoples, for kings, and for +private interests. But the peoples decipher no principles but those that +are writ in blood, and the evils of legality will always be pacific; it +flattens a nation down, that is all. Jacquet, a man of modern liberty, +returned home reflecting on the benefits of arbitrary power. + +When he went with his report to Jules, he found it necessary to deceive +him, for the unhappy man was in a high fever, unable to leave his bed. +The minister of the Interior mentioned, at a ministerial dinner that +same evening, the singular fancy of a Parisian in wishing to burn his +wife after the manner of the Romans. The clubs of Paris took up the +subject, and talked for a while of the burials of antiquity. Ancient +things were just then becoming a fashion, and some persons declared that +it would be a fine thing to re-establish, for distinguished persons, the +funeral pyre. This opinion had its defenders and its detractors. Some +said that there were too many such personages, and the price of wood +would be enormously increased by such a custom; moreover, it would +be absurd to see our ancestors in their urns in the procession at +Longchamps. And if the urns were valuable, they were likely some day +to be sold at auction, full of respectable ashes, or seized by +creditors,--a race of men who respected nothing. The other side made +answer that our ancestors were much safer in urns than at Pere-Lachaise, +for before very long the city of Paris would be compelled to order a +Saint-Bartholomew against its dead, who were invading the neighboring +country, and threatening to invade the territory of Brie. It was, in +short, one of those futile but witty discussions which sometimes cause +deep and painful wounds. Happily for Jules, he knew nothing of the +conversations, the witty speeches, and arguments which his sorrow had +furnished to the tongues of Paris. + +The prefect of police was indignant that Monsieur Jacquet had appealed +to a minister to avoid the wise delays of the commissioners of the +public highways; for the exhumation of Madame Jules was a question +belonging to that department. The police bureau was doing its best to +reply promptly to the petition; one appeal was quite sufficient to set +the office in motion, and once in motion matters would go far. But as +for the administration, that might take the case before the Council of +state,--a machine very difficult indeed to move. + +After the second day Jacquet was obliged to tell his friend that he must +renounce his desire, because, in a city where the number of tears shed +on black draperies is tariffed, where the laws recognize seven classes +of funerals, where the scrap of ground to hold the dead is sold at its +weight in silver, where grief is worked for what it is worth, where the +prayers of the Church are costly, and the vestry claim payment for extra +voices in the _Dies irae_,--all attempt to get out of the rut prescribed +by the authorities for sorrow is useless and impossible. + +“It would have been to me,” said Jules, “a comfort in my misery. I meant +to have died away from here, and I hoped to hold her in my arms in a +distant grave. I did not know that bureaucracy could send its claws into +our very coffins.” + +He now wished to see if room had been left for him beside his wife. The +two friends went to the cemetery. When they reached it they found (as +at the doors of museums, galleries, and coach-offices) _ciceroni_, who +proposed to guide them through the labyrinth of Pere-Lachaise. Neither +Jules nor Jacquet could have found the spot where Clemence lay. Ah, +frightful anguish! They went to the lodge to consult the porter of the +cemetery. The dead have a porter, and there are hours when the dead are +“not receiving.” It is necessary to upset all the rules and regulations +of the upper and lower police to obtain permission to weep at night, in +silence and solitude, over the grave where a loved one lies. There’s a +rule for summer and a rule for winter about this. + +Certainly, of all the porters in Paris, the porter of Pere-Lachaise is +the luckiest. In the first place, he has no gate-cord to pull; then, +instead of a lodge, he has a house,--an establishment which is not +quite ministerial, although a vast number of persons come under his +administration, and a good many employees. And this governor of the +dead has a salary, with emoluments, and acts under powers of which +none complain; he plays despot at his ease. His lodge is not a place of +business, though it has departments where the book-keeping of receipts, +expenses, and profits, is carried on. The man is not a _suisse_, nor a +concierge, nor actually a porter. The gate which admits the dead stands +wide open; and though there are monuments and buildings to be cared +for, he is not a care-taker. In short, he is an indefinable anomaly, an +authority which participates in all, and yet is nothing,--an authority +placed, like the dead on whom it is based, outside of all. Nevertheless, +this exceptional man grows out of the city of Paris,--that chimerical +creation like the ship which is its emblem, that creature of reason +moving on a thousand paws which are seldom unanimous in motion. + +This guardian of the cemetery may be called a concierge who has reached +the condition of a functionary, not soluble by dissolution! His place +is far from being a sinecure. He does not allow any one to be buried +without a permit; he must count his dead. He points out to you in this +vast field the six feet square of earth where you will one day put all +you love, or all you hate, a mistress, or a cousin. Yes, remember +this: all the feelings and emotions of Paris come to end here, at +this porter’s lodge, where they are administrationized. This man has +registers in which his dead are booked; they are in their graves, and +also on his records. He has under him keepers, gardeners, grave-diggers, +and their assistants. He is a personage. Mourning hearts do not speak to +him at first. He does not appear at all except in serious cases, such as +one corpse mistaken for another, a murdered body, an exhumation, a +dead man coming to life. The bust of the reigning king is in his hall; +possibly he keeps the late royal, imperial, and quasi-royal busts +in some cupboard,--a sort of little Pere-Lachaise all ready for +revolutions. In short, he is a public man, an excellent man, good +husband and good father,--epitaph apart. But so many diverse sentiments +have passed before him on biers; he has seen so many tears, true and +false; he has beheld sorrow under so many aspects and on so many faces; +he has heard such endless thousands of eternal woes,--that to him sorrow +has come to be nothing more than a stone an inch thick, four feet long, +and twenty-four inches wide. As for regrets, they are the annoyances of +his office; he neither breakfasts nor dines without first wiping off +the rain of an inconsolable affliction. He is kind and tender to other +feelings; he will weep over a stage-hero, over Monsieur Germeuil in the +“Auberge des Adrets,” the man with the butter-colored breeches, murdered +by Macaire; but his heart is ossified in the matter of real dead men. +Dead men are ciphers, numbers, to him; it is his business to organize +death. Yet he does meet, three times in a century, perhaps, with an +occasion when his part becomes sublime, and then he _is_ sublime through +every hour of his day,--in times of pestilence. + +When Jacquet approached him this absolute monarch was evidently out of +temper. + +“I told you,” he was saying, “to water the flowers from the rue Massena +to the place Regnault de Saint-Jean-d’Angely. You paid no attention +to me! _Sac-a-papier_! suppose the relations should take it into their +heads to come here to-day because the weather is fine, what would they +say to me? They’d shriek as if they were burned; they’d say horrid +things of us, and calumniate us--” + +“Monsieur,” said Jacquet, “we want to know where Madame Jules is +buried.” + +“Madame Jules _who_?” he asked. “We’ve had three Madame Jules within the +last week. Ah,” he said, interrupting himself, “here comes the funeral +of Monsieur le Baron de Maulincour! A fine procession, that! He has soon +followed his grandmother. Some families, when they begin to go, rattle +down like a wager. Lots of bad blood in Parisians.” + +“Monsieur,” said Jacquet, touching him on the arm, “the person I spoke +of is Madame Jules Desmarets, the wife of the broker of that name.” + +“Ah, I know!” he replied, looking at Jacquet. “Wasn’t it a funeral with +thirteen mourning coaches, and only one mourner in the twelve first? It +was so droll we all noticed it--” + +“Monsieur, take care, Monsieur Desmarets is with me; he might hear you, +and what you say is not seemly.” + +“I beg pardon, monsieur! you are quite right. Excuse me, I took you for +heirs. Monsieur,” he continued, after consulting a plan of the cemetery, +“Madame Jules is in the rue Marechal Lefebre, alley No. 4, between +Mademoiselle Raucourt, of the Comedie-Francaise, and Monsieur +Moreau-Malvin, a butcher, for whom a handsome tomb in white marble has +been ordered, which will be one of the finest in the cemetery--” + +“Monsieur,” said Jacquet, interrupting him, “that does not help us.” + +“True,” said the official, looking round him. “Jean,” he cried, to a man +whom he saw at a little distance, “conduct these gentlemen to the +grave of Madame Jules Desmarets, the broker’s wife. You know where it +is,--near to Mademoiselle Raucourt, the tomb where there’s a bust.” + +The two friends followed the guide; but they did not reach the steep +path which leads to the upper part of the cemetery without having +to pass through a score of proposals and requests, made, with honied +softness, by the touts of marble-workers, iron-founders, and monumental +sculptors. + +“If monsieur would like to order _something_, we would do it on the most +reasonable terms.” + +Jacquet was fortunate enough to be able to spare his friend the hearing +of these proposals so agonizing to bleeding hearts; and presently they +reached the resting-place. When Jules beheld the earth so recently dug, +into which the masons had stuck stakes to mark the place for the stone +posts required to support the iron railing, he turned, and leaned upon +Jacquet’s shoulder, raising himself now and again to cast long glances +at the clay mound where he was forced to leave the remains of the being +in and by whom he still lived. + +“How miserably she lies there!” he said. + +“But she is not there,” said Jacquet, “she is in your memory. Come, let +us go; let us leave this odious cemetery, where the dead are adorned +like women for a ball.” + +“Suppose we take her away?” + +“Can it be done?” + +“All things can be done!” cried Jules. “So, I shall lie there,” he +added, after a pause. “There is room enough.” + +Jacquet finally succeeded in getting him to leave the great enclosure, +divided like a chessboard by iron railings and elegant compartments, in +which were tombs decorated with palms, inscriptions, and tears as cold +as the stones on which sorrowing hearts had caused to be carved their +regrets and coats of arms. Many good words are there engraved in black +letters, epigrams reproving the curious, _concetti_, wittily turned +farewells, rendezvous given at which only one side appears, pretentious +biographies, glitter, rubbish and tinsel. Here the floriated thyrsus, +there a lance-head, farther on Egyptian urns, now and then a few +cannon; on all sides the emblems of professions, and every style of +art,--Moorish, Greek, Gothic,--friezes, ovules, paintings, vases, +guardian-angels, temples, together with innumerable _immortelles_, and +dead rose-bushes. It is a forlorn comedy! It is another Paris, with its +streets, its signs, its industries, and its lodgings; but a Paris seen +through the diminishing end of an opera-glass, a microscopic Paris +reduced to the littleness of shadows, spectres, dead men, a human race +which no longer has anything great about it, except its vanity. There +Jules saw at his feet, in the long valley of the Seine, between the +slopes of Vaugirard and Meudon and those of Belleville and Montmartre, +the real Paris, wrapped in a misty blue veil produced by smoke, which +the sunlight tendered at that moment diaphanous. He glanced with a +constrained eye at those forty thousand houses, and said, pointing to +the space comprised between the column of the Place Vendome and the +gilded cupola of the Invalides:-- + +“She was wrenched from me there by the fatal curiosity of that world +which excites itself and meddles solely for excitement and occupation.” + +Twelve miles from where they were, on the banks of the Seine, in a +modest village lying on the slope of a hill of that long hilly basin the +middle of which great Paris stirs like a child in its cradle, a death +scene was taking place, far indeed removed from Parisian pomps, with no +accompaniment of torches or tapers or mourning-coaches, without prayers +of the Church, in short, a death in all simplicity. Here are the facts: +The body of a young girl was found early in the morning, stranded on the +river-bank in the slime and reeds of the Seine. Men employed in dredging +sand saw it as they were getting into their frail boat on their way to +their work. + +“_Tiens_! fifty francs earned!” said one of them. + +“True,” said the other. + +They approached the body. + +“A handsome girl! We had better go and make our statement.” + +And the two dredgers, after covering the body with their jackets, went +to the house of the village mayor, who was much embarrassed at having to +make out the legal papers necessitated by this discovery. + +The news of this event spread with the telegraphic rapidity peculiar to +regions where social communications have no distractions, where gossip, +scandal, calumny, in short, the social tale which feasts the world +has no break of continuity from one boundary to another. Before +long, persons arriving at the mayor’s office released him from all +embarrassment. They were able to convert the _proces-verbal_ into a mere +certificate of death, by recognizing the body as that of the Demoiselle +Ida Gruget, corset-maker, living rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number +14. The judiciary police of Paris arrived, and the mother, bearing her +daughter’s last letter. Amid the mother’s moans, a doctor certified +to death by asphyxia, through the injection of black blood into the +pulmonary system,--which settled the matter. The inquest over, and the +certificates signed, by six o’clock the same evening authority was given +to bury the grisette. The rector of the parish, however, refused to +receive her into the church or to pray for her. Ida Gruget was +therefore wrapped in a shroud by an old peasant-woman, put into a common +pine-coffin, and carried to the village cemetery by four men, followed +by a few inquisitive peasant-women, who talked about the death with +wonder mingled with some pity. + +The widow Gruget was charitably taken in by an old lady who prevented +her from following the sad procession of her daughter’s funeral. A man +of triple functions, the bell-ringer, beadle, and grave-digger of the +parish, had dug a grave in the half-acre cemetery behind the church,--a +church well known, a classic church, with a square tower and pointed +roof covered with slate, supported on the outside by strong corner +buttresses. Behind the apse of the chancel, lay the cemetery, enclosed +with a dilapidated wall,--a little field full of hillocks; no marble +monuments, no visitors, but surely in every furrow, tears and true +regrets, which were lacking to Ida Gruget. She was cast into a corner +full of tall grass and brambles. After the coffin had been laid in +this field, so poetic in its simplicity, the grave-digger found himself +alone, for night was coming on. While filling the grave, he stopped now +and then to gaze over the wall along the road. He was standing thus, +resting on his spade, and looking at the Seine, which had brought him +the body. + +“Poor girl!” cried the voice of a man who suddenly appeared. + +“How you made me jump, monsieur,” said the grave-digger. + +“Was any service held over the body you are burying?” + +“No, monsieur. Monsieur le cure wasn’t willing. This is the first person +buried here who didn’t belong to the parish. Everybody knows everybody +else in this place. Does monsieur--Why, he’s gone!” + +Some days had elapsed when a man dressed in black called at the house +of Monsieur Jules Desmarets, and without asking to see him carried up to +the chamber of his wife a large porphyry vase, on which were inscribed +the words:-- + + + INVITA LEGE + CONJUGI MOERENTI + FILIOLAE CINERES + RESTITUIT + AMICIS XII. JUVANTIBUS + MORIBUNDUS PATER. + + +“What a man!” cried Jules, bursting into tears. + +Eight days sufficed the husband to obey all the wishes of his wife, and +to arrange his own affairs. He sold his practice to a brother of Martin +Falleix, and left Paris while the authorities were still discussing +whether it was lawful for a citizen to dispose of the body of his wife. + + * * * * * + +Who has not encountered on the boulevards of Paris, at the turn of a +street, or beneath the arcades of the Palais-Royal, or in any part of +the world where chance may offer him the sight, a being, man or woman, +at whose aspect a thousand confused thoughts spring into his mind? +At that sight we are suddenly interested, either by features of some +fantastic conformation which reveal an agitated life, or by a singular +effect of the whole person, produced by gestures, air, gait, clothes; or +by some deep, intense look; or by other inexpressible signs which seize +our minds suddenly and forcibly without our being able to explain even +to ourselves the cause of our emotion. The next day other thoughts and +other images have carried out of sight that passing dream. But if we +meet the same personage again, either passing at some fixed hour, like +the clerk of a mayor’s office, or wandering about the public promenades, +like those individuals who seem to be a sort of furniture of the streets +of Paris, and who are always to be found in public places, at first +representations or noted restaurants,--then this being fastens himself +or herself on our memory, and remains there like the first volume of a +novel the end of which is lost. We are tempted to question this unknown +person, and say, “Who are you?” “Why are you lounging here?” “By what +right do you wear that pleated ruffle, that faded waistcoat, and carry +that cane with an ivory top; why those blue spectacles; for what reason +do you cling to that cravat of a dead and gone fashion?” Among these +wandering creations some belong to the species of the Greek Hermae; +they say nothing to the soul; _they are there_, and that is all. Why? is +known to none. Such figure are a type of those used by sculptors for +the four Seasons, for Commerce, for Plenty, etc. Some others--former +lawyers, old merchants, elderly generals--move and walk, and yet seem +stationary. Like old trees that are half uprooted by the current of a +river, they seem never to take part in the torrent of Paris, with its +youthful, active crowd. It is impossible to know if their friends +have forgotten to bury them, or whether they have escaped out of their +coffins. At any rate, they have reached the condition of semi-fossils. + +One of these Parisian Melmoths had come within a few days into a +neighborhood of sober, quiet people, who, when the weather is fine, +are invariably to be found in the space which lies between the +south entrance of the Luxembourg and the north entrance of the +Observatoire,--a space without a name, the neutral space of Paris. +There, Paris is no longer; and there, Paris still lingers. The spot is +a mingling of street, square, boulevard, fortification, garden, avenue, +high-road, province, and metropolis; certainly, all of that is to be +found there, and yet the place is nothing of all that,--it is a desert. +Around this spot without a name stand the Foundling hospital, +the Bourbe, the Cochin hospital, the Capucines, the hospital +La Rochefoucauld, the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the hospital of the +Val-de-Grace; in short, all the vices and all the misfortunes of +Paris find their asylum there. And (that nothing may lack in this +philanthropic centre) Science there studies the tides and longitudes, +Monsieur de Chateaubriand has erected the Marie-Therese Infirmary, and +the Carmelites have founded a convent. The great events of life are +represented by bells which ring incessantly through this desert,--for +the mother giving birth, for the babe that is born, for the vice that +succumbs, for the toiler who dies, for the virgin who prays, for the old +man shaking with cold, for genius self-deluded. And a few steps off +is the cemetery of Mont-Parnasse, where, hour after hour, the sorry +funerals of the faubourg Saint-Marceau wend their way. This esplanade, +which commands a view of Paris, has been taken possession of by +bowl-players; it is, in fact, a sort of bowling green frequented by old +gray faces, belonging to kindly, worthy men, who seem to continue the +race of our ancestors, whose countenances must only be compared with +those of their surroundings. + +The man who had become, during the last few days, an inhabitant of this +desert region, proved an assiduous attendant at these games of bowls; +and must, undoubtedly, be considered the most striking creature of these +various groups, who (if it is permissible to liken Parisians to +the different orders of zoology) belonged to the genus mollusk. The +new-comer kept sympathetic step with the _cochonnet_,--the little +bowl which serves as a goal and on which the interest of the game must +centre. He leaned against a tree when the _cochonnet_ stopped; then, +with the same attention that a dog gives to his master’s gestures, he +looked at the other bowls flying through the air, or rolling along the +ground. You might have taken him for the weird and watchful genii of the +_cochonnet_. He said nothing; and the bowl-players--the most fanatic +men that can be encountered among the sectarians of any faith--had never +asked the reason of his dogged silence; in fact, the most observing of +them thought him deaf and dumb. + +When it happened that the distances between the bowls and the +_cochonnet_ had to be measured, the cane of this silent being was used +as a measure, the players coming up and taking it from the icy hands +of the old man and returning it without a word or even a sign of +friendliness. The loan of his cane seemed a servitude to which he +had negatively consented. When a shower fell, he stayed near the +_cochonnet_, the slave of the bowls, and the guardian of the unfinished +game. Rain affected him no more than the fine weather did; he was, like +the players themselves, an intermediary species between a Parisian +who has the lowest intellect of his kind and an animal which has the +highest. + +In other respects, pallid and shrunken, indifferent to his own person, +vacant in mind, he often came bareheaded, showing his sparse white +hair, and his square, yellow, bald skull, like the knee of a beggar seen +through his tattered trousers. His mouth was half-open, no ideas were +in his glance, no precise object appeared in his movements; he never +smiled; he never raised his eyes to heaven, but kept them habitually on +the ground, where he seemed to be looking for something. At four o’clock +an old woman arrived, to take him Heaven knows where; which she did by +towing him along by the arm, as a young girl drags a wilful goat which +still wants to browse by the wayside. This old man was a horrible thing +to see. + +In the afternoon of the day when Jules Desmarets left Paris, his +travelling-carriage, in which he was alone, passed rapidly through the +rue de l’Est, and came out upon the esplanade of the Observatoire at the +moment when the old man, leaning against a tree, had allowed his cane +to be taken from his hand amid the noisy vociferations of the players, +pacifically irritated. Jules, thinking that he recognized that face, +felt an impulse to stop, and at the same instant the carriage came to a +standstill; for the postilion, hemmed in by some handcarts, had too much +respect for the game to call upon the players to make way for him. + +“It is he!” said Jules, beholding in that human wreck, Ferragus XXIII., +chief of the Devorants. Then, after a pause, he added, “How he loved +her!--Go on, postilion.” + + + + +ADDENDUM + + Note: Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is + entitled The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with + the Golden Eyes. In other addendum references all three stories + are usually combined under the title The Thirteen. + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + + Bourignard, Gratien-Henri-Victor-Jean-Joseph + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + + Desmartes, Jules + Cesar Birotteau + + Desmartes, Madame Jules + Cesar Birotteau + + Desplein + The Atheist’s Mass + Cousin Pons + Lost Illusions + The Government Clerks + Pierrette + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Honorine + + Gruget, Madame Etienne + The Government Clerks + A Bachelor’s Establishment + + Haudry (doctor) + Cesar Birotteau + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Cousin Pons + + Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de + Father Goriot + The Duchesse of Langeais + + Marsay, Henri de + The Duchesse of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve + + Maulincour, Baronne de + A Marriage Settlement + + Meynardie, Madame + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + + Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de + Father Goriot + Eugenie Grandet + Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Commission in Lunacy + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Modeste Mignon + The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + + Pamiers, Vidame de + The Duchesse of Langeais + Jealousies of a Country Town + + Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Duchess of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + + Serizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + The Duchesse of Langeais + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERRAGUS *** + +***** This file should be named 1649-0.txt or 1649-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/1649/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ferragus + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Katharine Prescott Wormeley + +Release Date: February 27, 2010 [EBook #1649] +Last Updated: November 22, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERRAGUS *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + FERRAGUS,<br />CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <div class="mynote"> + <p> + PREPARER’S NOTE: Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is + entitled The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with the + Golden Eyes. The three stories are frequently combined under the title + The Thirteen. + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + DEDICATION<br /><br /> To Hector Berlioz.<br /> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> + <b>FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS</b> </a> + </h3> + <h3> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + MADAME JULES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + FERRAGUS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE WIFE ACCUSED + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + WHERE GO TO DIE? + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + CONCLUSION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + Thirteen men were banded together in Paris under the Empire, all imbued + with one and the same sentiment, all gifted with sufficient energy to be + faithful to the same thought, with sufficient honor among themselves never + to betray one another even if their interests clashed; and sufficiently + wily and politic to conceal the sacred ties that united them, sufficiently + strong to maintain themselves above the law, bold enough to undertake all + things, and fortunate enough to succeed, nearly always, in their + undertakings; having run the greatest dangers, but keeping silence if + defeated; inaccessible to fear; trembling neither before princes, nor + executioners, not even before innocence; accepting each other for such as + they were, without social prejudices,—criminals, no doubt, but + certainly remarkable through certain of the qualities that make great men, + and recruiting their number only among men of mark. That nothing might be + lacking to the sombre and mysterious poesy of their history, these + Thirteen men have remained to this day unknown; though all have realized + the most chimerical ideas that the fantastic power falsely attributed to + the Manfreds, the Fausts, and the Melmoths can suggest to the imagination. + To-day, they are broken up, or, at least, dispersed; they have peaceably + put their necks once more under the yoke of civil law, just as Morgan, + that Achilles among pirates, transformed himself from a buccaneering + scourge to a quiet colonist, and spent, without remorse, around his + domestic hearth the millions gathered in blood by the lurid light of + flames and slaughter. + </p> + <p> + Since the death of Napoleon, circumstances, about which the author must + keep silence, have still farther dissolved the original bond of this + secret society, always extraordinary, sometimes sinister, as though it + lived in the blackest pages of Mrs. Radcliffe. A somewhat strange + permission to relate in his own way a few of the adventures of these men + (while respecting certain susceptibilities) has only recently been given + to him by one of those anonymous heroes to whom all society was once + occultly subjected. In this permission the writer fancied he detected a + vague desire for personal celebrity. + </p> + <p> + This man, apparently still young, with fair hair and blue eyes, whose + sweet, clear voice seemed to denote a feminine soul, was pale of face and + mysterious in manner; he conversed affably, declared himself not more than + forty years of age, and apparently belonged to the very highest social + classes. The name which he assumed must have been fictitious; his person + was unknown in society. Who was he? That, no one has ever known. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, in confiding to the author the extraordinary matters which he + related to him, this mysterious person may have wished to see them in a + manner reproduced, and thus enjoy the emotions they were certain to bring + to the hearts of the masses,—a feeling analogous to that of + Macpherson when the name of his creation Ossian was transcribed into all + languages. That was certainly, for the Scotch lawyer, one of the keenest, + or at any rate the rarest, sensations a man could give himself. Is it not + the incognito of genius? To write the “Itinerary from Paris to Jerusalem” + is to take a share in the human glory of a single epoch; but to endow his + native land with another Homer, was not that usurping the work of God? + </p> + <p> + The author knows too well the laws of narration to be ignorant of the + pledges this short preface is contracting for him; but he also knows + enough of the history of the <i>Thirteen</i> to be certain that his + present tale will never be thought below the interest inspired by this + programme. Dramas steeped in blood, comedies filled with terror, romantic + tales through which rolled heads mysteriously decapitated, have been + confided to him. If readers were not surfeited with horrors served up to + them of late in cold blood, he might reveal the calm atrocities, the + surpassing tragedies concealed under family life. But he chooses in + preference gentler events,—those where scenes of purity succeed the + tempests of passion; where woman is radiant with virtue and beauty. To the + honor of the <i>Thirteen</i> be it said that there are such scenes in + their history, which may have the honor of being some day published as a + foil of tales to listeners,—that race apart from others, so + curiously energetic, and so interesting in spite of its crimes. + </p> + <p> + An author ought to be above converting his tale, when the tale is true, + into a species of surprise-game, and of taking his readers, as certain + novellists do, through many volumes and from cellar to cellar, to show + them the dry bones of a dead body, and tell them, by way of conclusion, + that <i>that</i> is what has frightened them behind doors, hidden in the + arras, or in cellars where the dead man was buried and forgotten. In spite + of his aversion for prefaces, the author feels bound to place the + following statement at the head of this narrative. Ferragus is a first + episode which clings by invisible links to the “History of the <i>Thirteen</i>,” + whose power, naturally acquired, can alone explain certain acts and + agencies which would otherwise seem supernatural. Although it is + permissible in tellers of tales to have a sort of literary coquetry in + becoming historians, they ought to renounce the benefit that may accrue + from an odd or fantastic title—on which certain slight successes + have been won in the present day. Consequently, the author will now + explain, succinctly, the reasons that obliged him to select a title to his + book which seems at first sight unnatural. + </p> + <p> + <i>Ferragus</i> is, according to ancient custom, a name taken by the chief + or Grand Master of the Devorants. On the day of their election these + chiefs continue whichever of the dynasties of their Order they are most in + sympathy with, precisely as the Popes do, on their accession, in + connection with pontifical dynasties. Thus the Devorants have “Trempe-la + Soupe IX.,” “Ferragus XXII.,” “Tutanus XIII.,” “Masche-Fer IV.,” just as + the Church has Clement XIV., Gregory VII., Julius II., Alexander VI., etc. + </p> + <p> + Now, then, who are the Devorants? “Devorant” is the name of one of those + tribes of “Companions” that issued in ancient times from the great + mystical association formed among the workers of Christianity to rebuild + the temple at Jerusalem. Companionism (to coin a word) still exists in + France among the people. Its traditions, powerful over minds that are not + enlightened, and over men not educated enough to cast aside an oath, might + serve the ends of formidable enterprises if some rough-hewn genius were to + seize hold of these diverse associations. All the instruments of this + Companionism are well-nigh blind. From town to town there has existed from + time immemorial, for the use of Companions, an “Obade,”—a sort of + halting-place, kept by a “Mother,” an old woman, half-gypsy, with nothing + to lose, knowing everything that happens in her neighborhood, and devoted, + either from fear or habit, to the tribe, whose straggling members she + feeds and lodges. This people, ever moving and changing, though controlled + by immutable customs, has its eyes everywhere, executes, without judging + it, a WILL,—for the oldest Companion still belongs to an era when + men had faith. Moreover, the whole body professes doctrines that are + sufficiently true and sufficiently mysterious to electrify into a sort of + tribal loyalty all adepts whenever they obtain even a slight development. + The attachment of the Companions to their laws is so passionate that the + diverse tribes will fight sanguinary battles with each other in defence of + some question of principle. + </p> + <p> + Happily for our present public safety, when a Devorant is ambitious, he + builds houses, lays by his money, and leaves the Order. There is many a + curious thing to tell about the “Compagnons du Devoir” [Companions of the + Duty], the rivals of the Devorants, and about the different sects of + working-men, their usages, their fraternity, and the bond existing between + them and the free-masons. But such details would be out of place here. The + author must, however, add that under the old monarchy it was not an + unknown thing to find a “Trempe-la-Soupe” enslaved to the king sentenced + for a hundred and one years to the galleys, but ruling his tribe from + there, religiously consulted by it, and when he escaped from his galley, + certain of help, succor, and respect, wherever he might be. To see its + grand master at the galleys is, to the faithful tribe, only one of those + misfortunes for which providence is responsible, and which does not + release the Devorants from obeying a power created by them to be above + them. It is but the passing exile of their legitimate king, always a king + for them. Thus we see the romantic prestige attaching to the name of + Ferragus and to that of the Devorants completely dissipated. + </p> + <p> + As for the <i>Thirteen</i>, they were all men of the stamp of Trelawney, + Lord Byron’s friend, who was, they say, the original of his “Corsair.” + They were all fatalists, men of nerve and poesy, weary of leading flat and + empty lives, driven toward Asiatic enjoyments by forces all the more + excessive because, long dormant, they awoke furious. One of them, after + re-reading “Venice Preserved,” and admiring the sublime union of Pierre + and Jaffier, began to reflect on the virtues shown by men who are outlawed + by society, on the honesty of galley-slaves, the faithfulness of thieves + among each other, the privileges of exorbitant power which such men know + how to win by concentrating all ideas into a single will. He saw that Man + is greater than men. He concluded that society ought to belong wholly to + those distinguished beings who, to natural intelligence, acquired wisdom, + and fortune, add a fanaticism hot enough to fuse into one casting these + different forces. That done, their occult power, vast in action and in + intensity, against which the social order would be helpless, would cast + down all obstacles, blast all other wills, and give to each the devilish + power of all. This world apart within the world, hostile to the world, + admitting none of the world’s ideas, not recognizing any law, not + submitting to any conscience but that of necessity, obedient to a devotion + only, acting with every faculty for a single associate when one of their + number asked for the assistance of all,—this life of filibusters in + lemon kid gloves and cabriolets; this intimate union of superior beings, + cold and sarcastic, smiling and cursing in the midst of a false and + puerile society; this certainty of forcing all things to serve an end, of + plotting a vengeance that could not fail of living in thirteen hearts; + this happiness of nurturing a secret hatred in the face of men, and of + being always in arms against this; this ability to withdraw to the + sanctuary of self with one idea more than even the most remarkable of men + could have,—this religion of pleasure and egotism cast so strong a + spell over Thirteen men that they revived the society of Jesuits to the + profit of the devil. + </p> + <p> + It was horrible and stupendous; but the compact was made, and it lasted + precisely because it appeared to be so impossible. + </p> + <p> + There was, therefore, in Paris a brotherhood of <i>Thirteen</i>, who + belonged to each other absolutely, but ignored themselves as absolutely + before the world. At night they met, like conspirators, hiding no thought, + disposing each and all of a common fortune, like that of the Old Man of + the Mountain; having their feet in all salons, their hands in all + money-boxes, and making all things serve their purpose or their fancy + without scruple. No chief commanded them; no one member could arrogate to + himself that power. The most eager passion, the most exacting + circumstance, alone had the right to pass first. They were Thirteen + unknown kings,—but true kings, more than ordinary kings and judges + and executioners,—men who, having made themselves wings to roam + through society from depth to height, disdained to be anything in the + social sphere because they could be all. If the present writer ever learns + the reasons of their abdication of this power, he will take occasion to + tell them.[*] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [*] See Theophile Gautier’s account of the society of the + “Cheval Rouge.” Memoir of Balzac. Roberts Brothers, Boston. +</pre> + <p> + Now, with this brief explanation, he may be allowed to begin the tale of + certain episodes in the history of the <i>Thirteen</i>, which have more + particularly attracted him by the Parisian flavor of their details and the + whimsicality of their contrasts. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. MADAME JULES + </h2> + <p> + Certain streets in Paris are as degraded as a man covered with infamy; + also, there are noble streets, streets simply respectable, young streets + on the morality of which the public has not yet formed an opinion; also + cut-throat streets, streets older than the age of the oldest dowagers, + estimable streets, streets always clean, streets always dirty, working, + laboring, and mercantile streets. In short, the streets of Paris have + every human quality, and impress us, by what we must call their + physiognomy, with certain ideas against which we are defenceless. There + are, for instance, streets of a bad neighborhood in which you could not be + induced to live, and streets where you would willingly take up your abode. + Some streets, like the rue Montmartre, have a charming head, and end in a + fish’s tail. The rue de la Paix is a wide street, a fine street, yet it + wakens none of those gracefully noble thoughts which come to an + impressible mind in the middle of the rue Royale, and it certainly lacks + the majesty which reigns in the Place Vendome. + </p> + <p> + If you walk the streets of the Ile Saint-Louis, do not seek the reason of + the nervous sadness that lays hold upon you save in the solitude of the + spot, the gloomy look of the houses, and the great deserted mansions. This + island, the ghost of <i>fermiers-generaux</i>, is the Venice of Paris. The + Place de la Bourse is voluble, busy, degraded; it is never fine except by + moonlight at two in the morning. By day it is Paris epitomized; by night + it is a dream of Greece. The rue Traversiere-Saint-Honore—is not + that a villainous street? Look at the wretched little houses with two + windows on a floor, where vice, crime, and misery abound. The narrow + streets exposed to the north, where the sun never comes more than three or + four times a year, are the cut-throat streets which murder with impunity; + the authorities of the present day do not meddle with them; but in former + times the Parliament might perhaps have summoned the lieutenant of police + and reprimanded him for the state of things; and it would, at least, have + issued some decree against such streets, as it once did against the wigs + of the Chapter of Beauvais. And yet Monsieur Benoiston de Chateauneuf has + proved that the mortality of these streets is double that of others! To + sum up such theories by a single example: is not the rue Fromentin both + murderous and profligate! + </p> + <p> + These observations, incomprehensible out of Paris, will doubtless be + understood by musing men of thought and poesy and pleasure, who know, + while rambling about Paris, how to harvest the mass of floating interests + which may be gathered at all hours within her walls; to them Paris is the + most delightful and varied of monsters: here, a pretty woman; farther on, + a haggard pauper; here, new as the coinage of a new reign; there, in this + corner, elegant as a fashionable woman. A monster, moreover, complete! Its + garrets, as it were, a head full of knowledge and genius; its first + storeys stomachs repleted; its shops, actual feet, where the busy + ambulating crowds are moving. Ah! what an ever-active life the monster + leads! Hardly has the last vibration of the last carriage coming from a + ball ceased at its heart before its arms are moving at the barriers and it + shakes itself slowly into motion. Doors open; turning on their hinges like + the membrane of some huge lobster, invisibly manipulated by thirty + thousand men or women, of whom each individual occupies a space of six + square feet, but has a kitchen, a workshop, a bed, children, a garden, + little light to see by, but must see all. Imperceptibly, the articulations + begin to crack; motion communicates itself; the street speaks. By mid-day, + all is alive; the chimneys smoke, the monster eats; then he roars, and his + thousand paws begin to ramp. Splendid spectacle! But, O Paris! he who has + not admired your gloomy passages, your gleams and flashes of light, your + deep and silent <i>cul-de-sacs</i>, who has not listened to your + murmurings between midnight and two in the morning, knows nothing as yet + of your true poesy, nor of your broad and fantastic contrasts. + </p> + <p> + There are a few amateurs who never go their way heedlessly; who savor + their Paris, so to speak; who know its physiognomy so well that they see + every wart, and pimple, and redness. To others, Paris is always that + monstrous marvel, that amazing assemblage of activities, of schemes, of + thoughts; the city of a hundred thousand tales, the head of the universe. + But to those few, Paris is sad or gay, ugly or beautiful, living or dead; + to them Paris is a creature; every man, every fraction of a house is a + lobe of the cellular tissue of that great courtesan whose head and heart + and fantastic customs they know so well. These men are lovers of Paris; + they lift their noses at such or such a corner of a street, certain that + they can see the face of a clock; they tell a friend whose tobacco-pouch + is empty, “Go down that passage and turn to the left; there’s a + tobacconist next door to a confectioner, where there’s a pretty girl.” + Rambling about Paris is, to these poets, a costly luxury. How can they + help spending precious minutes before the dramas, disasters, faces, and + picturesque events which meet us everywhere amid this heaving queen of + cities, clothed in posters,—who has, nevertheless, not a single + clean corner, so complying is she to the vices of the French nation! Who + has not chanced to leave his home early in the morning, intending to go to + some extremity of Paris, and found himself unable to get away from the + centre of it by the dinner-hour? Such a man will know how to excuse this + vagabondizing start upon our tale; which, however, we here sum up in an + observation both useful and novel, as far as any observation can be novel + in Paris, where there is nothing new,—not even the statue erected + yesterday, on which some young gamin has already scribbled his name. + </p> + <p> + Well, then! there are streets, or ends of streets, there are houses, + unknown for the most part to persons of social distinction, to which a + woman of that class cannot go without causing cruel and very wounding + things to be thought of her. Whether the woman be rich and has a carriage, + whether she is on foot, or is disguised, if she enters one of these + Parisian defiles at any hour of the day, she compromises her reputation as + a virtuous woman. If, by chance, she is there at nine in the evening the + conjectures that an observer permits himself to make upon her may prove + fearful in their consequences. But if the woman is young and pretty, if + she enters a house in one of those streets, if the house has a long, dark, + damp, and evil-smelling passage-way, at the end of which flickers the + pallid gleam of an oil lamp, and if beneath that gleam appears the horrid + face of a withered old woman with fleshless fingers, ah, then! and we say + it in the interests of young and pretty women, that woman is lost. She is + at the mercy of the first man of her acquaintance who sees her in that + Parisian slough. There is more than one street in Paris where such a + meeting may lead to a frightful drama, a bloody drama of death and love, a + drama of the modern school. + </p> + <p> + Unhappily, this scene, this modern drama itself, will be comprehended by + only a small number of persons; and it is a pity to tell the tale to a + public which cannot enter into its local merit. But who can flatter + himself that he will ever be understood? We all die unknown—‘tis the + saying of women and of authors. + </p> + <p> + At half-past eight o’clock one evening, in the rue Pagevin, in the days + when that street had no wall which did not echo some infamous word, and + was, in the direction of the rue Soly, the narrowest and most impassable + street in Paris (not excepting the least frequented corner of the most + deserted street),—at the beginning of the month of February about + thirteen years ago, a young man, by one of those chances which come but + once in life, turned the corner of the rue Pagevin to enter the rue des + Vieux-Augustins, close to the rue Soly. There, this young man, who lived + himself in the rue de Bourbon, saw in a woman near whom he had been + unconsciously walking, a vague resemblance to the prettiest woman in + Paris; a chaste and delightful person, with whom he was secretly and + passionately in love,—a love without hope; she was married. In a + moment his heart leaped, an intolerable heat surged from his centre and + flowed through all his veins; his back turned cold, the skin of his head + crept. He loved, he was young, he knew Paris; and his knowledge did not + permit him to be ignorant of all there was of possible infamy in an + elegant, rich, young, and beautiful woman walking there, alone, with a + furtively criminal step. <i>She</i> in that mud! at that hour! + </p> + <p> + The love that this young man felt for that woman may seem romantic, and + all the more so because he was an officer in the Royal Guard. If he had + been in the infantry, the affair might have seemed more likely; but, as an + officer of rank in the cavalry, he belonged to that French arm which + demands rapidity in its conquests and derives as much vanity from its + amorous exploits as from its dashing uniform. But the passion of this + officer was a true love, and many young hearts will think it noble. He + loved this woman because she was virtuous; he loved her virtue, her modest + grace, her imposing saintliness, as the dearest treasures of his hidden + passion. This woman was indeed worthy to inspire one of those platonic + loves which are found, like flowers amid bloody ruins, in the history of + the middle-ages; worthy to be the hidden principle of all the actions of a + young man’s life; a love as high, as pure as the skies when blue; a love + without hope and to which men bind themselves because it can never + deceive; a love that is prodigal of unchecked enjoyment, especially at an + age when the heart is ardent, the imagination keen, and the eyes of a man + see very clearly. + </p> + <p> + Strange, weird, inconceivable effects may be met with at night in Paris. + Only those who have amused themselves by watching those effects have any + idea how fantastic a woman may appear there at dusk. At times the creature + whom you are following, by accident or design, seems to you light and + slender; the stockings, if they are white, make you fancy that the legs + must be slim and elegant; the figure though wrapped in a shawl, or + concealed by a pelisse, defines itself gracefully and seductively among + the shadows; anon, the uncertain gleam thrown from a shop-window or a + street lamp bestows a fleeting lustre, nearly always deceptive, on the + unknown woman, and fires the imagination, carrying it far beyond the + truth. The senses then bestir themselves; everything takes color and + animation; the woman appears in an altogether novel aspect; her person + becomes beautiful. Behold! she is not a woman, she is a demon, a siren, + who is drawing you by magnetic attraction to some respectable house, where + the worthy <i>bourgeoise</i>, frightened by your threatening step and the + clack of your boots, shuts the door in your face without looking at you. + </p> + <p> + A vacillating gleam, thrown from the shop-window of a shoemaker, suddenly + illuminated from the waist down the figure of the woman who was before the + young man. Ah! surely, <i>she</i> alone had that swaying figure; she alone + knew the secret of that chaste gait which innocently set into relief the + many beauties of that attractive form. Yes, that was the shawl, and that + the velvet bonnet which she wore in the mornings. On her gray silk + stockings not a spot, on her shoes not a splash. The shawl held tightly + round the bust disclosed, vaguely, its charming lines; and the young man, + who had often seen those shoulders at a ball, knew well the treasures that + the shawl concealed. By the way a Parisian woman wraps a shawl around her, + and the way she lifts her feet in the street, a man of intelligence in + such studies can divine the secret of her mysterious errand. There is + something, I know not what, of quivering buoyancy in the person, in the + gait; the woman seems to weigh less; she steps, or rather, she glides like + a star, and floats onward led by a thought which exhales from the folds + and motion of her dress. The young man hastened his step, passed the + woman, and then turned back to look at her. Pst! she had disappeared into + a passage-way, the grated door of which and its bell still rattled and + sounded. The young man walked back to the alley and saw the woman reach + the farther end, where she began to mount—not without receiving the + obsequious bow of an old portress—a winding staircase, the lower + steps of which were strongly lighted; she went up buoyantly, eagerly, as + though impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Impatient for what?” said the young man to himself, drawing back to lean + against a wooden railing on the other side of the street. He gazed, + unhappy man, at the different storeys of the house, with the keen + attention of a detective searching for a conspirator. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those houses of which there are thousands in Paris, ignoble, + vulgar, narrow, yellowish in tone, with four storeys and three windows on + each floor. The outer blinds of the first floor were closed. Where was she + going? The young man fancied he heard the tinkle of a bell on the second + floor. As if in answer to it, a light began to move in a room with two + windows strongly illuminated, which presently lit up the third window, + evidently that of a first room, either the salon or the dining-room of the + apartment. Instantly the outline of a woman’s bonnet showed vaguely on the + window, and a door between the two rooms must have closed, for the first + was dark again, while the two other windows resumed their ruddy glow. At + this moment a voice said, “Hi, there!” and the young man was conscious of + a blow on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you pay attention?” said the rough voice of a workman, carrying + a plank on his shoulder. The man passed on. He was the voice of Providence + saying to the watcher: “What are you meddling with? Think of your own + duty; and leave these Parisians to their own affairs.” + </p> + <p> + The young man crossed his arms; then, as no one beheld him, he suffered + tears of rage to flow down his cheeks unchecked. At last the sight of the + shadows moving behind the lighted windows gave him such pain that he + looked elsewhere and noticed a hackney-coach, standing against a wall in + the upper part of the rue des Vieux-Augustins, at a place where there was + neither the door of a house, nor the light of a shop-window. + </p> + <p> + Was it she? Was it not she? Life or death to a lover! This lover waited. + He stood there during a century of twenty minutes. After that the woman + came down, and he then recognized her as the one whom he secretly loved. + Nevertheless, he wanted still to doubt. She went to the hackney-coach, and + got into it. + </p> + <p> + “The house will always be there and I can search it later,” thought the + young man, following the carriage at a run, to solve his last doubts; and + soon he did so. + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped in the rue de Richelieu before a shop for artificial + flowers, close to the rue de Menars. The lady got out, entered the shop, + sent out the money to pay the coachman, and presently left the shop + herself, on foot, after buying a bunch of marabouts. Marabouts for her + black hair! The officer beheld her, through the window-panes, placing the + feathers to her head to see the effect, and he fancied he could hear the + conversation between herself and the shop-woman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! madame, nothing is more suitable for brunettes: brunettes have + something a little too strongly marked in their lines, and marabouts give + them just that <i>flow</i> which they lack. Madame la Duchesse de Langeais + says they give a woman something vague, Ossianic, and very high-bred.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good; send them to me at once.” + </p> + <p> + Then the lady turned quickly toward the rue de Menars, and entered her own + house. When the door closed on her, the young lover, having lost his + hopes, and worse, far worse, his dearest beliefs, walked through the + streets like a drunken man, and presently found himself in his own room + without knowing how he came there. He flung himself into an arm-chair, put + his head in his hands and his feet on the andirons, drying his boots until + he burned them. It was an awful moment,—one of those moments in + human life when the character is moulded, and the future conduct of the + best of men depends on the good or evil fortune of his first action. + Providence or fatality?—choose which you will. + </p> + <p> + This young man belonged to a good family, whose nobility was not very + ancient; but there are so few really old families in these days, that all + men of rank are ancient without dispute. His grandfather had bought the + office of counsellor to the Parliament of Paris, where he afterwards + became president. His sons, each provided with a handsome fortune, entered + the army, and through their marriages became attached to the court. The + Revolution swept the family away; but one old dowager, too obstinate to + emigrate, was left; she was put in prison, threatened with death, but was + saved by the 9th Thermidor and recovered her property. When the proper + time came, about the year 1804, she recalled her grandson to France. + Auguste de Maulincour, the only scion of the Carbonnon de Maulincour, was + brought up by the good dowager with the triple care of a mother, a woman + of rank, and an obstinate dowager. When the Restoration came, the young + man, then eighteen years of age, entered the Maison-Rouge, followed the + princes to Ghent, was made an officer in the body-guard, left it to serve + in the line, but was recalled later to the Royal Guard, where, at + twenty-three years of age, he found himself major of a cavalry regiment,—a + splendid position, due to his grandmother, who had played her cards well + to obtain it, in spite of his youth. This double biography is a compendium + of the general and special history, barring variations, of all the noble + families who emigrated having debts and property, dowagers and tact. + </p> + <p> + Madame la Baronne de Maulincour had a friend in the old Vidame de Pamiers, + formerly a commander of the Knights of Malta. This was one of those + undying friendships founded on sexagenary ties which nothing can weaken, + because at the bottom of such intimacies there are certain secrets of the + human heart, delightful to guess at when we have the time, insipid to + explain in twenty words, and which might make the text of a work in four + volumes as amusing as the Doyen de Killerine,—a work about which + young men talk and judge without having read it. + </p> + <p> + Auguste de Maulincour belonged therefore to the faubourg Saint-Germain + through his grandmother and the vidame, and it sufficed him to date back + two centuries to take the tone and opinions of those who assume to go back + to Clovis. This young man, pale, slender, and delicate in appearance, a + man of honor and true courage, who would fight a duel for a yes or a no, + had never yet fought upon a battle-field, though he wore in his + button-hole the cross of the Legion of honor. He was, as you perceive, one + of the blunders of the Restoration, perhaps the most excusable of them. + The youth of those days was the youth of no epoch. It came between the + memories of the Empire and those of the Emigration, between the old + traditions of the court and the conscientious education of the <i>bourgeoisie</i>; + between religion and fancy-balls; between two political faiths, between + Louis XVIII., who saw only the present, and Charles X., who looked too far + into the future; it was moreover bound to accept the will of the king, + though the king was deceiving and tricking it. This unfortunate youth, + blind and yet clear-sighted, was counted as nothing by old men jealously + keeping the reins of the State in their feeble hands, while the monarchy + could have been saved by their retirement and the accession of this Young + France, which the old doctrinaires, the <i>emigres</i> of the Restoration, + still speak of slightingly. Auguste de Maulincour was a victim to the + ideas which weighed in those days upon French youth, and we must here + explain why. + </p> + <p> + The Vidame de Pamiers was still, at sixty-seven years of age, a very + brilliant man, having seen much and lived much; a good talker, a man of + honor and a gallant man, but who held as to women the most detestable + opinions; he loved them, and he despised them. <i>Their</i> honor! <i>their</i> + feelings! Ta-ra-ra, rubbish and shams! When he was with them, he believed + in them, the ci-devant “monstre”; he never contradicted them, and he made + them shine. But among his male friends, when the topic of the sex came up, + he laid down the principle that to deceive women, and to carry on several + intrigues at once, should be the occupation of those young men who were so + misguided as to wish to meddle in the affairs of the State. It is sad to + have to sketch so hackneyed a portrait, for has it not figured everywhere + and become, literally, as threadbare as that of a grenadier of the Empire? + But the vidame had an influence on Monsieur de Maulincour’s destiny which + obliges us to preserve his portrait; he lectured the young man after his + fashion, and did his best to convert him to the doctrines of the great age + of gallantry. + </p> + <p> + The dowager, a tender-hearted, pious woman, sitting between God and her + vidame, a model of grace and sweetness, but gifted with that well-bred + persistency which triumphs in the long run, had longed to preserve for her + grandson the beautiful illusions of life, and had therefore brought him up + in the highest principles; she instilled into him her own delicacy of + feeling and made him, to outward appearance, a timid man, if not a fool. + The sensibilities of the young fellow, preserved pure, were not worn by + contact without; he remained so chaste, so scrupulous, that he was keenly + offended by actions and maxims to which the world attached no consequence. + Ashamed of this susceptibility, he forced himself to conceal it under a + false hardihood; but he suffered in secret, all the while scoffing with + others at the things he reverenced. + </p> + <p> + It came to pass that he was deceived; because, in accordance with a not + uncommon whim of destiny, he, a man of gentle melancholy, and spiritual in + love, encountered in the object of his first passion a woman who held in + horror all German sentimentalism. The young man, in consequence, + distrusted himself, became dreamy, absorbed in his griefs, complaining of + not being understood. Then, as we desire all the more violently the things + we find difficult to obtain, he continued to adore women with that + ingenuous tenderness and feline delicacy the secret of which belongs to + women themselves, who may, perhaps, prefer to keep the monopoly of it. In + point of fact, though women of the world complain of the way men love + them, they have little liking themselves for those whose soul is half + feminine. Their own superiority consists in making men believe they are + their inferiors in love; therefore they will readily leave a lover if he + is inexperienced enough to rob them of those fears with which they seek to + deck themselves, those delightful tortures of feigned jealousy, those + troubles of hope betrayed, those futile expectations,—in short, the + whole procession of their feminine miseries. They hold Sir Charles + Grandison in horror. What can be more contrary to their nature than a + tranquil, perfect love? They want emotions; happiness without storms is + not happiness to them. Women with souls that are strong enough to bring + infinitude into love are angelic exceptions; they are among women what + noble geniuses are among men. Their great passions are rare as + masterpieces. Below the level of such love come compromises, conventions, + passing and contemptible irritations, as in all things petty and + perishable. + </p> + <p> + Amid the hidden disasters of his heart, and while he was still seeking the + woman who could comprehend him (a search which, let us remark in passing, + is one of the amorous follies of our epoch), Auguste met, in the rank of + society that was farthest from his own, in the secondary sphere of money, + where banking holds the first place, a perfect being, one of those women + who have I know not what about them that is saintly and sacred,—women + who inspire such reverence that love has need of the help of a long + familiarity to declare itself. + </p> + <p> + Auguste then gave himself up wholly to the delights of the deepest and + most moving of passions, to a love that was purely adoring. Innumerable + repressed desires there were, shadows of passion so vague yet so profound, + so fugitive and yet so actual, that one scarcely knows to what we may + compare them. They are like perfumes, or clouds, or rays of the sun, or + shadows, or whatever there is in nature that shines for a moment and + disappears, that springs to life and dies, leaving in the heart long + echoes of emotion. When the soul is young enough to nurture melancholy and + far-off hope, to find in woman more than a woman, is it not the greatest + happiness that can befall a man when he loves enough to feel more joy in + touching a gloved hand, or a lock of hair, in listening to a word, in + casting a single look, than in all the ardor of possession given by happy + love? Thus it is that rejected persons, those rebuffed by fate, the ugly + and unfortunate, lovers unrevealed, women and timid men, alone know the + treasures contained in the voice of the beloved. Taking their source and + their element from the soul itself, the vibrations of the air, charged + with passion, put our hearts so powerfully into communion, carrying + thought between them so lucidly, and being, above all, so incapable of + falsehood, that a single inflection of a voice is often a revelation. What + enchantments the intonations of a tender voice can bestow upon the heart + of a poet! What ideas they awaken! What freshness they shed there! Love is + in the voice before the glance avows it. Auguste, poet after the manner of + lovers (there are poets who feel, and poets who express; the first are the + happiest), Auguste had tasted all these early joys, so vast, so fecund. + SHE possessed the most winning organ that the most artful woman of the + world could have desired in order to deceive at her ease; <i>she</i> had + that silvery voice which is soft to the ear, and ringing only for the + heart which it stirs and troubles, caresses and subjugates. + </p> + <p> + And this woman went by night to the rue Soly through the rue Pagevin! and + her furtive apparition in an infamous house had just destroyed the + grandest of passions! The vidame’s logic triumphed. + </p> + <p> + “If she is betraying her husband we will avenge ourselves,” said Auguste. + </p> + <p> + There was still faith in that “if.” The philosophic doubt of Descartes is + a politeness with which we should always honor virtue. Ten o’clock + sounded. The Baron de Maulincour remembered that this woman was going to a + ball that evening at a house to which he had access. He dressed, went + there, and searched for her through all the salons. The mistress of the + house, Madame de Nucingen, seeing him thus occupied, said:— + </p> + <p> + “You are looking for Madame Jules; but she has not yet come.” + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, dear,” said a voice. + </p> + <p> + Auguste and Madame de Nucingen turned round. Madame Jules had arrived, + dressed in white, looking simple and noble, wearing in her hair the + marabouts the young baron had seen her choose in the flower-shop. That + voice of love now pierced his heart. Had he won the slightest right to be + jealous of her he would have petrified her then and there by saying the + words, “Rue Soly!” But if he, an alien to her life, had said those words + in her ear a thousand times, Madame Jules would have asked him in + astonishment what he meant. He looked at her stupidly. + </p> + <p> + For those sarcastic persons who scoff at all things it may be a great + amusement to detect the secret of a woman, to know that her chastity is a + lie, that her calm face hides some anxious thought, that under that pure + brow is a dreadful drama. But there are other souls to whom the sight is + saddening; and many of those who laugh in public, when withdrawn into + themselves and alone with their conscience, curse the world while they + despise the woman. Such was the case with Auguste de Maulincour, as he + stood there in presence of Madame Jules. Singular situation! There was no + other relation between them than that which social life establishes + between persons who exchange a few words seven or eight times in the + course of a winter, and yet he was calling her to account on behalf of a + happiness unknown to her; he was judging her, without letting her know of + his accusation. + </p> + <p> + Many young men find themselves thus in despair at having broken forever + with a woman adored in secret, condemned and despised in secret. There are + many hidden monologues told to the walls of some solitary lodging; storms + roused and calmed without ever leaving the depths of hearts; amazing + scenes of the moral world, for which a painter is wanted. Madame Jules sat + down, leaving her husband to make a turn around the salon. After she was + seated she seemed uneasy, and, while talking with her neighbor, she kept a + furtive eye on Monsieur Jules Desmarets, her husband, a broker chiefly + employed by the Baron de Nucingen. The following is the history of their + home life. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Desmarets was, five years before his marriage, in a broker’s + office, with no other means than the meagre salary of a clerk. But he was + a man to whom misfortune had early taught the truths of life, and he + followed the strait path with the tenacity of an insect making for its + nest; he was one of those dogged young men who feign death before an + obstacle and wear out everybody’s patience with their own beetle-like + perseverance. Thus, young as he was, he had all the republican virtue of + poor peoples; he was sober, saving of his time, an enemy to pleasure. He + waited. Nature had given him the immense advantage of an agreeable + exterior. His calm, pure brow, the shape of his placid, but expressive + face, his simple manners,—all revealed in him a laborious and + resigned existence, that lofty personal dignity which is imposing to + others, and the secret nobility of heart which can meet all events. His + modesty inspired a sort of respect in those who knew him. Solitary in the + midst of Paris, he knew the social world only by glimpses during the brief + moments which he spent in his patron’s salon on holidays. + </p> + <p> + There were passions in this young man, as in most of the men who live in + that way, of amazing profundity,—passions too vast to be drawn into + petty incidents. His want of means compelled him to lead an ascetic life, + and he conquered his fancies by hard work. After paling all day over + figures, he found his recreation in striving obstinately to acquire that + wide general knowledge so necessary in these days to every man who wants + to make his mark, whether in society, or in commerce, at the bar, or in + politics or literature. The only peril these fine souls have to fear comes + from their own uprightness. They see some poor girl; they love her; they + marry her, and wear out their lives in a struggle between poverty and + love. The noblest ambition is quenched perforce by the household + account-book. Jules Desmarets went headlong into this peril. + </p> + <p> + He met one evening at his patron’s house a girl of the rarest beauty. + Unfortunate men who are deprived of affection, and who consume the finest + hours of youth in work and study, alone know the rapid ravages that + passion makes in their lonely, misconceived hearts. They are so certain of + loving truly, all their forces are concentrated so quickly on the object + of their love, that they receive, while beside her, the most delightful + sensations, when, as often happens, they inspire none at all. Nothing is + more flattering to a woman’s egotism than to divine this passion, + apparently immovable, and these emotions so deep that they have needed a + great length of time to reach the human surface. These poor men, + anchorites in the midst of Paris, have all the enjoyments of anchorites; + and may sometimes succumb to temptations. But, more often deceived, + betrayed, and misunderstood, they are rarely able to gather the sweet + fruits of a love which, to them, is like a flower dropped from heaven. + </p> + <p> + One smile from his wife, a single inflection of her voice sufficed to make + Jules Desmarets conceive a passion which was boundless. Happily, the + concentrated fire of that secret passion revealed itself artlessly to the + woman who inspired it. These two beings then loved each other religiously. + To express all in a word, they clasped hands without shame before the eyes + of the world and went their way like two children, brother and sister, + passing serenely through a crowd where all made way for them and admired + them. + </p> + <p> + The young girl was in one of those unfortunate positions which human + selfishness entails upon children. She had no civil status; her name of + “Clemence” and her age were recorded only by a notary public. As for her + fortune, that was small indeed. Jules Desmarets was a happy man on hearing + these particulars. If Clemence had belonged to an opulent family, he might + have despaired of obtaining her; but she was only the poor child of love, + the fruit of some terrible adulterous passion; and they were married. Then + began for Jules Desmarets a series of fortunate events. Every one envied + his happiness; and henceforth talked only of his luck, without recalling + either his virtues or his courage. + </p> + <p> + Some days after their marriage, the mother of Clemence, who passed in + society for her godmother, told Jules Desmarets to buy the office and + good-will of a broker, promising to provide him with the necessary + capital. In those days, such offices could still be bought at a modest + price. That evening, in the salon as it happened of his patron, a wealthy + capitalist proposed, on the recommendation of the mother, a very + advantageous transaction for Jules Desmarets, and the next day the happy + clerk was able to buy out his patron. In four years Desmarets became one + of the most prosperous men in his business; new clients increased the + number his predecessor had left to him; he inspired confidence in all; and + it was impossible for him not to feel, by the way business came to him, + that some hidden influence, due to his mother-in-law, or to Providence, + was secretly protecting him. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the third year Clemence lost her godmother. By that time + Monsieur Jules (so called to distinguish him from an elder brother, whom + he had set up as a notary in Paris) possessed an income from invested + property of two hundred thousand francs. There was not in all Paris + another instance of the domestic happiness enjoyed by this couple. For + five years their exceptional love had been troubled by only one event,—a + calumny for which Monsieur Jules exacted vengeance. One of his former + comrades attributed to Madame Jules the fortune of her husband, explaining + that it came from a high protection dearly paid for. The man who uttered + the calumny was killed in the duel that followed it. + </p> + <p> + The profound passion of this couple, which survived marriage, obtained a + great success in society, though some women were annoyed by it. The + charming household was respected; everybody feted it. Monsieur and Madame + Jules were sincerely liked, perhaps because there is nothing more + delightful to see than happy people; but they never stayed long at any + festivity. They slipped away early, as impatient to regain their nest as + wandering pigeons. This nest was a large and beautiful mansion in the rue + de Menars, where a true feeling for art tempered the luxury which the + financial world continues, traditionally, to display. Here the happy pair + received their society magnificently, although the obligations of social + life suited them but little. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Jules submitted to the demands of the world, knowing that, + sooner or later, a family has need of it; but he and his wife felt + themselves, in its midst, like green-house plants in a tempest. With a + delicacy that was very natural, Jules had concealed from his wife the + calumny and the death of the calumniator. Madame Jules, herself, was + inclined, through her sensitive and artistic nature, to desire luxury. In + spite of the terrible lesson of the duel, some imprudent women whispered + to each other that Madame Jules must sometimes be pressed for money. They + often found her more elegantly dressed in her own home than when she went + into society. She loved to adorn herself to please her husband, wishing to + show him that to her he was more than any social life. A true love, a pure + love, above all, a happy love! Jules, always a lover, and more in love as + time went by, was happy in all things beside his wife, even in her + caprices; in fact, he would have been uneasy if she had none, thinking it + a symptom of some illness. + </p> + <p> + Auguste de Maulincour had the personal misfortune of running against this + passion, and falling in love with the wife beyond recovery. Nevertheless, + though he carried in his heart so intense a love, he was not ridiculous; + he complied with all the demands of society, and of military manners and + customs. And yet his face wore constantly, even though he might be + drinking a glass of champagne, that dreamy look, that air of silently + despising life, that nebulous expression which belongs, though for other + reasons, to <i>blases</i> men,—men dissatisfied with hollow lives. + To love without hope, to be disgusted with life, constitute, in these + days, a social position. The enterprise of winning the heart of a + sovereign might give, perhaps, more hope than a love rashly conceived for + a happy woman. Therefore Maulincour had sufficient reason to be grave and + gloomy. A queen has the vanity of her power; the height of her elevation + protects her. But a pious <i>bourgeoise</i> is like a hedgehog, or an + oyster, in its rough wrappings. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the young officer was beside his unconscious mistress, who + certainly was unaware that she was doubly faithless. Madame Jules was + seated, in a naive attitude, like the least artful woman in existence, + soft and gentle, full of a majestic serenity. What an abyss is human + nature! Before beginning a conversation, the baron looked alternately at + the wife and at the husband. How many were the reflections he made! He + recomposed the “Night Thoughts” of Young in a second. And yet the music + was sounding through the salons, the light was pouring from a thousand + candles. It was a banker’s ball,—one of those insolent festivals by + means of which the world of solid gold endeavored to sneer at the + gold-embossed salons where the faubourg Saint-Germain met and laughed, not + foreseeing the day when the bank would invade the Luxembourg and take its + seat upon the throne. The conspirators were now dancing, indifferent to + coming bankruptcies, whether of Power or of the Bank. The gilded salons of + the Baron de Nucingen were gay with that peculiar animation that the world + of Paris, apparently joyous at any rate, gives to its fetes. There, men of + talent communicate their wit to fools, and fools communicate that air of + enjoyment that characterizes them. By means of this exchange all is + liveliness. But a ball in Paris always resembles fireworks to a certain + extent; wit, coquetry, and pleasure sparkle and go out like rockets. The + next day all present have forgotten their wit, their coquetry, their + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” thought Auguste, by way of conclusion, “women are what the vidame + says they are. Certainly all those dancing here are less irreproachable + actually than Madame Jules appears to be, and yet Madame Jules went to the + rue Soly!” + </p> + <p> + The rue Soly was like an illness to him; the very word shrivelled his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, do you ever dance?” he said to her. + </p> + <p> + “This is the third time you have asked me that question this winter,” she + answered, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps you have never answered it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew very well that you were false, like other women.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Jules continued to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, monsieur,” she said; “if I told you the real reason, you would + think it ridiculous. I do not think it false to abstain from telling + things that the world would laugh at.” + </p> + <p> + “All secrets demand, in order to be told, a friendship of which I am no + doubt unworthy, madame. But you cannot have any but noble secrets; do you + think me capable of jesting on noble things?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “you, like all the rest, laugh at our purest sentiments; + you calumniate them. Besides, I have no secrets. I have the right to love + my husband in the face of all the world, and I say so,—I am proud of + it; and if you laugh at me when I tell you that I dance only with him, I + shall have a bad opinion of your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never danced since your marriage with any one but your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. His arm is the only one on which I have leaned; I have never felt + the touch of another man.” + </p> + <p> + “Has your physician never felt your pulse?” + </p> + <p> + “Now you are laughing at me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, madame, I admire you, because I comprehend you. But you let a man + hear your voice, you let yourself be seen, you—in short, you permit + our eyes to admire you—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, interrupting him, “that is one of my griefs. Yes, I wish + it were possible for a married woman to live secluded with her husband, as + a mistress lives with her lover, for then—” + </p> + <p> + “Then why were you, two hours ago, on foot, disguised, in the rue Soly?” + </p> + <p> + “The rue Soly, where is that?” + </p> + <p> + And her pure voice gave no sign of any emotion; no feature of her face + quivered; she did not blush; she remained calm. + </p> + <p> + “What! you did not go up to the second floor of a house in the rue des + Vieux-Augustins at the corner of the rue Soly? You did not have a + hackney-coach waiting near by? You did not return in it to the flower-shop + in the rue Richelieu, where you bought the feathers that are now in your + hair?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not leave my house this evening.” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered that lie she was smiling and imperturbable; she played with + her fan; but if any one had passed a hand down her back they would, + perhaps, have found it moist. At that instant Auguste remembered the + instructions of the vidame. + </p> + <p> + “Then it was some one who strangely resembled you,” he said, with a + credulous air. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she replied, “if you are capable of following a woman and + detecting her secrets, you will allow me to say that it is a wrong, a very + wrong thing, and I do you the honor to say that I disbelieve you.” + </p> + <p> + The baron turned away, placed himself before the fireplace and seemed + thoughtful. He bent his head; but his eyes were covertly fixed on Madame + Jules, who, not remembering the reflections in the mirror, cast two or + three glances at him that were full of terror. Presently she made a sign + to her husband and rising took his arm to walk about the salon. As she + passed before Monsieur de Maulincour, who at that moment was speaking to a + friend, he said in a loud voice, as if in reply to a remark: “That woman + will certainly not sleep quietly this night.” Madame Jules stopped, gave + him an imposing look which expressed contempt, and continued her way, + unaware that another look, if surprised by her husband, might endanger not + only her happiness but the lives of two men. Auguste, frantic with anger, + which he tried to smother in the depths of his soul, presently left the + house, swearing to penetrate to the heart of the mystery. Before leaving, + he sought Madame Jules, to look at her again; but she had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + What a drama cast into that young head so eminently romantic, like all who + have not known love in the wide extent which they give to it. He adored + Madame Jules under a new aspect; he loved her now with the fury of + jealousy and the frenzied anguish of hope. Unfaithful to her husband, the + woman became common. Auguste could now give himself up to the joys of + successful love, and his imagination opened to him a career of pleasures. + Yes, he had lost the angel, but he had found the most delightful of + demons. He went to bed, building castles in the air, excusing Madame Jules + by some romantic fiction in which he did not believe. He resolved to + devote himself wholly, from that day forth, to a search for the causes, + motives, and keynote of this mystery. It was a tale to read, or better + still, a drama to be played, in which he had a part. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. FERRAGUS + </h2> + <p> + A fine thing is the task of a spy, when performed for one’s own benefit + and in the interests of a passion. Is it not giving ourselves the pleasure + of a thief and a rascal while continuing honest men? But there is another + side to it; we must resign ourselves to boil with anger, to roar with + impatience, to freeze our feet in the mud, to be numbed, and roasted, and + torn by false hopes. We must go, on the faith of a mere indication, to a + vague object, miss our end, curse our luck, improvise to ourselves + elegies, dithyrambics, exclaim idiotically before inoffensive pedestrians + who observe us, knock over old apple-women and their baskets, run hither + and thither, stand on guard beneath a window, make a thousand + suppositions. But, after all, it is a chase, a hunt; a hunt in Paris, a + hunt with all its chances, minus dogs and guns and the tally-ho! Nothing + compares with it but the life of gamblers. But it needs a heart big with + love and vengeance to ambush itself in Paris, like a tiger waiting to + spring upon its prey, and to enjoy the chances and contingencies of Paris, + by adding one special interest to the many that abound there. But for this + we need a many-sided soul—for must we not live in a thousand + passions, a thousand sentiments? + </p> + <p> + Auguste de Maulincour flung himself into this ardent existence + passionately, for he felt all its pleasures and all its misery. He went + disguised about Paris, watching at the corners of the rue Pagevin and the + rue des Vieux-Augustins. He hurried like a hunter from the rue de Menars + to the rue Soly, and back from the rue Soly to the rue de Menars, without + obtaining either the vengeance or the knowledge which would punish or + reward such cares, such efforts, such wiles. But he had not yet reached + that impatience which wrings our very entrails and makes us sweat; he + roamed in hope, believing that Madame Jules would only refrain for a few + days from revisiting the place where she knew she had been detected. He + devoted the first days therefore, to a careful study of the secrets of the + street. A novice at such work, he dared not question either the porter or + the shoemaker of the house to which Madame Jules had gone; but he managed + to obtain a post of observation in a house directly opposite to the + mysterious apartment. He studied the ground, trying to reconcile the + conflicting demands of prudence, impatience, love, and secrecy. + </p> + <p> + Early in the month of March, while busy with plans by which he expected to + strike a decisive blow, he left his post about four in the afternoon, + after one of those patient watches from which he had learned nothing. He + was on his way to his own house whither a matter relating to his military + service called him, when he was overtaken in the rue Coquilliere by one of + those heavy showers which instantly flood the gutters, while each drop of + rain rings loudly in the puddles of the roadway. A pedestrian under these + circumstances is forced to stop short and take refuge in a shop or cafe if + he is rich enough to pay for the forced hospitality, or, if in poorer + circumstances, under a <i>porte-cochere</i>, that haven of paupers or + shabbily dressed persons. Why have none of our painters ever attempted to + reproduce the physiognomies of a swarm of Parisians, grouped, under stress + of weather, in the damp <i>porte-cochere</i> of a building? First, there’s + the musing philosophical pedestrian, who observes with interest all he + sees,—whether it be the stripes made by the rain on the gray + background of the atmosphere (a species of chasing not unlike the + capricious threads of spun glass), or the whirl of white water which the + wind is driving like a luminous dust along the roofs, or the fitful + disgorgements of the gutter-pipes, sparkling and foaming; in short, the + thousand nothings to be admired and studied with delight by loungers, in + spite of the porter’s broom which pretends to be sweeping out the gateway. + Then there’s the talkative refugee, who complains and converses with the + porter while he rests on his broom like a grenadier on his musket; or the + pauper wayfarer, curled against the wall indifferent to the condition of + his rags, long used, alas, to contact with the streets; or the learned + pedestrian who studies, spells, and reads the posters on the walls without + finishing them; or the smiling pedestrian who makes fun of others to whom + some street fatality has happened, who laughs at the muddy women, and + makes grimaces at those of either sex who are looking from the windows; + and the silent being who gazes from floor to floor; and the working-man, + armed with a satchel or a paper bundle, who is estimating the rain as a + profit or loss; and the good-natured fugitive, who arrives like a shot + exclaiming, “Ah! what weather, messieurs, what weather!” and bows to every + one; and, finally, the true <i>bourgeois</i> of Paris, with his unfailing + umbrella, an expert in showers, who foresaw this particular one, but would + come out in spite of his wife; this one takes a seat in the porter’s + chair. According to individual character, each member of this fortuitous + society contemplates the skies, and departs, skipping to avoid the mud,—because + he is in a hurry, or because he sees other citizens walking along in spite + of wind and slush, or because, the archway being damp and mortally + catarrhal, the bed’s edge, as the proverb says, is better than the sheets. + Each one has his motive. No one is left but the prudent pedestrian, the + man who, before he sets forth, makes sure of a scrap of blue sky through + the rifting clouds. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Maulincour took refuge, as we have said, with a whole family + of fugitives, under the porch of an old house, the court-yard of which + looked like the flue of a chimney. The sides of its plastered, nitrified, + and mouldy walls were so covered with pipes and conduits from all the many + floors of its four elevations, that it might have been said to resemble at + that moment the <i>cascatelles</i> of Saint-Cloud. Water flowed + everywhere; it boiled, it leaped, it murmured; it was black, white, blue, + and green; it shrieked, it bubbled under the broom of the portress, a + toothless old woman used to storms, who seemed to bless them as she swept + into the street a mass of scraps an intelligent inventory of which would + have revealed the lives and habits of every dweller in the house,—bits + of printed cottons, tea-leaves, artificial flower-petals faded and + worthless, vegetable parings, papers, scraps of metal. At every sweep of + her broom the old woman bared the soul of the gutter, that black fissure + on which a porter’s mind is ever bent. The poor lover examined this scene, + like a thousand others which our heaving Paris presents daily; but he + examined it mechanically, as a man absorbed in thought, when, happening to + look up, he found himself all but nose to nose with a man who had just + entered the gateway. + </p> + <p> + In appearance this man was a beggar, but not the Parisian beggar,—that + creation without a name in human language; no, this man formed another + type, while presenting on the outside all the ideas suggested by the word + “beggar.” He was not marked by those original Parisian characteristics + which strike us so forcibly in the paupers whom Charlet was fond of + representing, with his rare luck in observation,—coarse faces + reeking of mud, hoarse voices, reddened and bulbous noses, mouths devoid + of teeth but menacing; humble yet terrible beings, in whom a profound + intelligence shining in their eyes seems like a contradiction. Some of + these bold vagabonds have blotched, cracked, veiny skins; their foreheads + are covered with wrinkles, their hair scanty and dirty, like a wig thrown + on a dust-heap. All are gay in their degradation, and degraded in their + joys; all are marked with the stamp of debauchery, casting their silence + as a reproach; their very attitude revealing fearful thoughts. Placed + between crime and beggary they have no compunctions, and circle prudently + around the scaffold without mounting it, innocent in the midst of crime, + and vicious in their innocence. They often cause a laugh, but they always + cause reflection. One represents to you civilization stunted, repressed; + he comprehends everything, the honor of the galleys, patriotism, virtue, + the malice of a vulgar crime, or the fine astuteness of elegant + wickedness. Another is resigned, a perfect mimer, but stupid. All have + slight yearnings after order and work, but they are pushed back into their + mire by society, which makes no inquiry as to what there may be of great + men, poets, intrepid souls, and splendid organizations among these + vagrants, these gypsies of Paris; a people eminently good and eminently + evil—like all the masses who suffer—accustomed to endure + unspeakable woes, and whom a fatal power holds ever down to the level of + the mire. They all have a dream, a hope, a happiness,—cards, + lottery, or wine. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing of all this in the personage who now leaned carelessly + against the wall in front of Monsieur de Maulincour, like some fantastic + idea drawn by an artist on the back of a canvas the front of which is + turned to the wall. This tall, spare man, whose leaden visage expressed + some deep but chilling thought, dried up all pity in the hearts of those + who looked at him by the scowling look and the sarcastic attitude which + announced an intention of treating every man as an equal. His face was of + a dirty white, and his wrinkled skull, denuded of hair, bore a vague + resemblance to a block of granite. A few gray locks on either side of his + head fell straight to the collar of his greasy coat, which was buttoned to + the chin. He resembled both Voltaire and Don Quixote; he was, apparently, + scoffing but melancholy, full of disdain and philosophy, but half-crazy. + He seemed to have no shirt. His beard was long. A rusty black cravat, much + worn and ragged, exposed a protuberant neck deeply furrowed, with veins as + thick as cords. A large brown circle like a bruise was strongly marked + beneath his eyes, He seemed to be at least sixty years old. His hands were + white and clean. His boots were trodden down at the heels, and full of + holes. A pair of blue trousers, mended in various places, were covered + with a species of fluff which made them offensive to the eye. Whether it + was that his damp clothes exhaled a fetid odor, or that he had in his + normal condition the “poor smell” which belongs to Parisian tenements, + just as offices, sacristies, and hospitals have their own peculiar and + rancid fetidness, of which no words can give the least idea, or whether + some other reason affected them, those in the vicinity of this man + immediately moved away and left him alone. He cast upon them and also upon + the officer a calm, expressionless look, the celebrated look of Monsieur + de Talleyrand, a dull, wan glance, without warmth, a species of + impenetrable veil, beneath which a strong soul hides profound emotions and + close estimation of men and things and events. Not a fold of his face + quivered. His mouth and forehead were impassible; but his eyes moved and + lowered themselves with a noble, almost tragic slowness. There was, in + fact, a whole drama in the motion of those withered eyelids. + </p> + <p> + The aspect of this stoical figure gave rise in Monsieur de Maulincour to + one of those vagabond reveries which begin with a common question and end + by comprising a world of thought. The storm was past. Monsieur de + Maulincour presently saw no more of the man than the tail of his coat as + it brushed the gate-post, but as he turned to leave his own place he + noticed at his feet a letter which must have fallen from the unknown + beggar when he took, as the baron had seen him take, a handkerchief from + his pocket. The young man picked it up, and read, involuntarily, the + address: “To Monsieur Ferragusse, Rue des Grands-Augustains, corner of rue + Soly.” + </p> + <p> + The letter bore no postmark, and the address prevented Monsieur de + Maulincour from following the beggar and returning it; for there are few + passions that will not fail in rectitude in the long run. The baron had a + presentiment of the opportunity afforded by this windfall. He determined + to keep the letter, which would give him the right to enter the mysterious + house to return it to the strange man, not doubting that he lived there. + Suspicions, vague as the first faint gleams of daylight, made him fancy + relations between this man and Madame Jules. A jealous lover supposes + everything; and it is by supposing everything and selecting the most + probable of their conjectures that judges, spies, lovers, and observers + get at the truth they are looking for. + </p> + <p> + “Is the letter for him? Is it from Madame Jules?” + </p> + <p> + His restless imagination tossed a thousand such questions to him; but when + he read the first words of the letter he smiled. Here it is, textually, in + all the simplicity of its artless phrases and its miserable orthography,—a + letter to which it would be impossible to add anything, or to take + anything away, unless it were the letter itself. But we have yielded to + the necessity of punctuating it. In the original there were neither commas + nor stops of any kind, not even notes of exclamation,—a fact which + tends to undervalue the system of notes and dashes by which modern authors + have endeavored to depict the great disasters of all the passions:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Henry,—Among the manny sacrifisis I imposed upon myself for your + sake was that of not giving you anny news of me; but an + iresistible voise now compells me to let you know the wrong you + have done me. I know beforehand that your soul hardened in vise + will not pitty me. Your heart is deaf to feeling. Is it deaf to + the cries of nature? But what matter? I must tell you to what a + dredful point you are gilty, and the horror of the position to + which you have brought me. Henry, you knew what I sufered from my + first wrong-doing, and yet you plunged me into the same misery, + and then abbandoned me to my dispair and sufering. Yes, I will say + it, the belif I had that you loved me and esteemed me gave me + corage to bare my fate. But now, what have I left? Have you not + made me loose all that was dear to me, all that held me to life; + parents, frends, onor, reputation,—all, I have sacrifised all to + you, and nothing is left me but shame, oprobrum, and—I say this + without blushing—poverty. Nothing was wanting to my misfortunes + but the sertainty of your contempt and hatred; and now I have them + I find the corage that my project requires. My decision is made; + the onor of my famly commands it. I must put an end to my + suferins. Make no remarks upon my conduct, Henry; it is orful, I + know, but my condition obliges me. Without help, without suport, + without one frend to comfort me, can I live? No. Fate has desided + for me. So in two days, Henry, two days, Ida will have seased to + be worthy of your regard. Oh, Henry! oh, my frend! for I can never + change to you, promise me to forgive me for what I am going to do. + Do not forget that you have driven me to it; it is your work, and + you must judge it. May heven not punish you for all your crimes. I + ask your pardon on my knees, for I feel nothing is wanting to my + misery but the sorow of knowing you unhappy. In spite of the + poverty I am in I shall refuse all help from you. If you had loved + me I would have taken all from your friendship; but a benfit given + by pitty <i>my soul refussis</i>. I would be baser to take it than he + who offered it. I have one favor to ask of you. I don’t know how + long I must stay at Madame Meynardie’s; be genrous enough not to + come there. Your last two vissits did me a harm I cannot get ofer. + I cannot enter into particlers about that conduct of yours. You + hate me,—you said so; that word is writen on my heart, and + freeses it with fear. Alas! it is now, when I need all my corage, + all my strength, that my faculties abandon me. Henry, my frend, + before I put a barrier forever between us, give me a last pruf of + your esteem. Write me, answer me, say you respect me still, though + you have seased to love me. My eyes are worthy still to look into + yours, but I do not ask an interfew; I fear my weakness and my + love. But for pitty’s sake write me a line at once; it will give + me the corage I need to meet my trubbles. Farewell, orther of all + my woes, but the only frend my heart has chosen and will never + forget. +</pre> + <p> + Ida. + </p> + <p> + This life of a young girl, with its love betrayed, its fatal joys, its + pangs, its miseries, and its horrible resignation, summed up in a few + words, this humble poem, essentially Parisian, written on dirty paper, + influenced for a passing moment Monsieur de Maulincour. He asked himself + whether this Ida might not be some poor relation of Madame Jules, and that + strange rendezvous, which he had witnessed by chance, the mere necessity + of a charitable effort. But could that old pauper have seduced this Ida? + There was something impossible in the very idea. Wandering in this + labyrinth of reflections, which crossed, recrossed, and obliterated one + another, the baron reached the rue Pagevin, and saw a hackney-coach + standing at the end of the rue des Vieux-Augustins where it enters the rue + Montmartre. All waiting hackney-coaches now had an interest for him. + </p> + <p> + “Can she be there?” he thought to himself, and his heart beat fast with a + hot and feverish throbbing. + </p> + <p> + He pushed the little door with the bell, but he lowered his head as he did + so, obeying a sense of shame, for a voice said to him secretly:— + </p> + <p> + “Why are you putting your foot into this mystery?” + </p> + <p> + He went up a few steps, and found himself face to face with the old + portress. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Ferragus?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn’t Monsieur Ferragus live here?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t such a name in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my good woman—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not your good woman, monsieur, I’m the portress.” + </p> + <p> + “But, madame,” persisted the baron, “I have a letter for Monsieur + Ferragus.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! if monsieur has a letter,” she said, changing her tone, “that’s + another matter. Will you let me see it—that letter?” + </p> + <p> + Auguste showed the folded letter. The old woman shook her head with a + doubtful air, hesitated, seemed to wish to leave the lodge and inform the + mysterious Ferragus of his unexpected visitor, but finally said:— + </p> + <p> + “Very good; go up, monsieur. I suppose you know the way?” + </p> + <p> + Without replying to this remark, which he thought might be a trap, the + young officer ran lightly up the stairway, and rang loudly at the door of + the second floor. His lover’s instinct told him, “She is there.” + </p> + <p> + The beggar of the porch, Ferragus, the “orther” of Ida’s woes, opened the + door himself. He appeared in a flowered dressing-gown, white flannel + trousers, his feet in embroidered slippers, and his face washed clean of + stains. Madame Jules, whose head projected beyond the casing of the door + in the next room, turned pale and dropped into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, madame?” cried the officer, springing toward her. + </p> + <p> + But Ferragus stretched forth an arm and flung the intruder back with so + sharp a thrust that Auguste fancied he had received a blow with an iron + bar full on his chest. + </p> + <p> + “Back! monsieur,” said the man. “What do you want there? For five or six + days you have been roaming about the neighborhood. Are you a spy?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you Monsieur Ferragus?” said the baron. + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” continued Auguste, “it is to you that I must return this + paper which you dropped in the gateway beneath which we both took refuge + from the rain.” + </p> + <p> + While speaking and offering the letter to the man, Auguste did not refrain + from casting an eye around the room where Ferragus received him. It was + very well arranged, though simply. A fire burned on the hearth; and near + it was a table with food upon it, which was served more sumptuously than + agreed with the apparent conditions of the man and the poorness of his + lodging. On a sofa in the next room, which he could see through the + doorway, lay a heap of gold, and he heard a sound which could be no other + than that of a woman weeping. + </p> + <p> + “The paper belongs to me; I am much obliged to you,” said the mysterious + man, turning away as if to make the baron understand that he must go. + </p> + <p> + Too curious himself to take much note of the deep examination of which he + was himself the object, Auguste did not see the half-magnetic glance with + which this strange being seemed to pierce him; had he encountered that + basilisk eye he might have felt the danger that encompassed him. Too + passionately excited to think of himself, Auguste bowed, went down the + stairs, and returned home, striving to find a meaning in the connection of + these three persons,—Ida, Ferragus, and Madame Jules; an occupation + equivalent to that of trying to arrange the many-cornered bits of a + Chinese puzzle without possessing the key to the game. But Madame Jules + had seen him, Madame Jules went there, Madame Jules had lied to him. + Maulincour determined to go and see her the next day. She could not refuse + his visit, for he was now her accomplice; he was hands and feet in the + mysterious affair, and she knew it. Already he felt himself a sultan, and + thought of demanding from Madame Jules, imperiously, all her secrets. + </p> + <p> + In those days Paris was seized with a building-fever. If Paris is a + monster, it is certainly a most mania-ridden monster. It becomes enamored + of a thousand fancies: sometimes it has a mania for building, like a great + seigneur who loves a trowel; soon it abandons the trowel and becomes all + military; it arrays itself from head to foot as a national guard, and + drills and smokes; suddenly, it abandons military manoeuvres and flings + away cigars; it is commercial, care-worn, falls into bankruptcy, sells its + furniture on the place de Chatelet, files its schedule; but a few days + later, lo! it has arranged its affairs and is giving fetes and dances. One + day it eats barley-sugar by the mouthful, by the handful; yesterday it + bought “papier Weymen”; to-day the monster’s teeth ache, and it applies to + its walls an alexipharmatic to mitigate their dampness; to-morrow it will + lay in a provision of pectoral paste. It has its manias for the month, for + the season, for the year, like its manias of a day. + </p> + <p> + So, at the moment of which we speak, all the world was building or pulling + down something,—people hardly knew what as yet. There were very few + streets in which high scaffoldings on long poles could not be seen, + fastened from floor to floor with transverse blocks inserted into holes in + the walls on which the planks were laid,—a frail construction, + shaken by the brick-layers, but held together by ropes, white with + plaster, and insecurely protected from the wheels of carriages by the + breastwork of planks which the law requires round all such buildings. + There is something maritime in these masts, and ladders, and cordage, even + in the shouts of the masons. About a dozen yards from the hotel + Maulincour, one of these ephemeral barriers was erected before a house + which was then being built of blocks of free-stone. The day after the + event we have just related, at the moment when the Baron de Maulincour was + passing this scaffolding in his cabriolet on his way to see Madame Jules, + a stone, two feet square, which was being raised to the upper storey of + this building, got loose from the ropes and fell, crushing the baron’s + servant who was behind the cabriolet. A cry of horror shook both the + scaffold and the masons; one of them, apparently unable to keep his grasp + on a pole, was in danger of death, and seemed to have been touched by the + stone as it passed him. + </p> + <p> + A crowd collected rapidly; the masons came down the ladders swearing and + insisting that Monsieur de Maulincour’s cabriolet had been driven against + the boarding and so had shaken their crane. Two inches more and the stone + would have fallen on the baron’s head. The groom was dead, the carriage + shattered. ‘Twas an event for the whole neighborhood, the newspapers told + of it. Monsieur de Maulincour, certain that he had not touched the + boarding, complained; the case went to court. Inquiry being made, it was + shown that a small boy, armed with a lath, had mounted guard and called to + all foot-passengers to keep away. The affair ended there. Monsieur de + Maulincour obtained no redress. He had lost his servant, and was confined + to his bed for some days, for the back of the carriage when shattered had + bruised him severely, and the nervous shock of the sudden surprise gave + him a fever. He did not, therefore, go to see Madame Jules. + </p> + <p> + Ten days after this event, he left the house for the first time, in his + repaired cabriolet, when, as he drove down the rue de Bourgogne and was + close to the sewer opposite to the Chamber of Deputies, the axle-tree + broke in two, and the baron was driving so rapidly that the breakage would + have caused the two wheels to come together with force enough to break his + head, had it not been for the resistance of the leather hood. + Nevertheless, he was badly wounded in the side. For the second time in ten + days he was carried home in a fainting condition to his terrified + grandmother. This second accident gave him a feeling of distrust; he + thought, though vaguely, of Ferragus and Madame Jules. To throw light on + these suspicions he had the broken axle brought to his room and sent for + his carriage-maker. The man examined the axle and the fracture, and proved + two things: First, the axle was not made in his workshop; he furnished + none that did not bear the initials of his name on the iron. But he could + not explain by what means this axle had been substituted for the other. + Secondly, the breakage of the suspicious axle was caused by a hollow space + having been blown in it and a straw very cleverly inserted. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! Monsieur le baron, whoever did that was malicious!” he said; “any one + would swear, to look at it, that the axle was sound.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Maulincour begged the carriage-maker to say nothing of the + affair; but he felt himself warned. These two attempts at murder were + planned with an ability which denoted the enmity of intelligent minds. + </p> + <p> + “It is war to the death,” he said to himself, as he tossed in his bed,—“a + war of savages, skulking in ambush, of trickery and treachery, declared in + the name of Madame Jules. What sort of man is this to whom she belongs? + What species of power does this Ferragus wield?” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Maulincour, though a soldier and brave man, could not repress + a shudder. In the midst of many thoughts that now assailed him, there was + one against which he felt he had neither defence nor courage: might not + poison be employed ere long by his secret enemies? Under the influence of + fears, which his momentary weakness and fever and low diet increased, he + sent for an old woman long attached to the service of his grandmother, + whose affection for himself was one of those semi-maternal sentiments + which are the sublime of the commonplace. Without confiding in her wholly, + he charged her to buy secretly and daily, in different localities, the + food he needed; telling her to keep it under lock and key and bring it to + him herself, not allowing any one, no matter who, to approach her while + preparing it. He took the most minute precautions to protect himself + against that form of death. He was ill in his bed and alone, and he had + therefore the leisure to think of his own security,—the one + necessity clear-sighted enough to enable human egotism to forget nothing! + </p> + <p> + But the unfortunate man had poisoned his own life by this dread, and, in + spite of himself, suspicion dyed all his hours with its gloomy tints. + These two lessons of attempted assassination did teach him, however, the + value of one of the virtues most necessary to a public man; he saw the + wise dissimulation that must be practised in dealing with the great + interests of life. To be silent about our own secret is nothing; but to be + silent from the start, to forget a fact as Ali Pacha did for thirty years + in order to be sure of a vengeance waited for for thirty years, is a fine + study in a land where there are few men who can keep their own counsel for + thirty days. Monsieur de Maulincour literally lived only through Madame + Jules. He was perpetually absorbed in a sober examination into the means + he ought to employ to triumph in this mysterious struggle with these + mysterious persons. His secret passion for that woman grew by reason of + all these obstacles. Madame Jules was ever there, erect, in the midst of + his thoughts, in the centre of his heart, more seductive by her presumable + vices than by the positive virtues for which he had made her his idol. + </p> + <p> + At last, anxious to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, he thought he + might without danger initiate the vidame into the secrets of his + situation. The old commander loved Auguste as a father loves his wife’s + children; he was shrewd, dexterous, and very diplomatic. He listened to + the baron, shook his head, and they both held counsel. The worthy vidame + did not share his young friend’s confidence when Auguste declared that in + the time in which they now lived, the police and the government were able + to lay bare all mysteries, and that if it were absolutely necessary to + have recourse to those powers, he should find them most powerful + auxiliaries. + </p> + <p> + The old man replied, gravely: “The police, my dear boy, is the most + incompetent thing on this earth, and government the feeblest in all + matters concerning individuals. Neither the police nor the government can + read hearts. What we might reasonably ask of them is to search for the + causes of an act. But the police and the government are both eminently + unfitted for that; they lack, essentially, the personal interest which + reveals all to him who wants to know all. No human power can prevent an + assassin or a poisoner from reaching the heart of a prince or the stomach + of an honest man. Passions are the best police.” + </p> + <p> + The vidame strongly advised the baron to go to Italy, and from Italy to + Greece, from Greece to Syria, from Syria to Asia, and not to return until + his secret enemies were convinced of his repentance, and would so make + tacit peace with him. But if he did not take that course, then the vidame + advised him to stay in the house, and even in his own room, where he would + be safe from the attempts of this man Ferragus, and not to leave it until + he could be certain of crushing him. + </p> + <p> + “We should never touch an enemy until we can be sure of taking his head + off,” he said, gravely. + </p> + <p> + The old man, however, promised his favorite to employ all the astuteness + with which Heaven had provided him (without compromising any one) in + reconnoitring the enemy’s ground, and laying his plans for future victory. + The Commander had in his service a retired Figaro, the wiliest monkey that + ever walked in human form; in earlier days as clever as a devil, working + his body like a galley-slave, alert as a thief, sly as a woman, but now + fallen into the decadence of genius for want of practice since the new + constitution of Parisian society, which has reformed even the valets of + comedy. This Scapin emeritus was attached to his master as to a superior + being; but the shrewd old vidame added a good round sum yearly to the + wages of his former provost of gallantry, which strengthened the ties of + natural affection by the bonds of self-interest, and obtained for the old + gentleman as much care as the most loving mistress could bestow on a sick + friend. It was this pearl of the old-fashioned comedy-valets, relic of the + last century, auxiliary incorruptible from lack of passions to satisfy, on + whom the old vidame and Monsieur de Maulincour now relied. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le baron will spoil all,” said the great man in livery, when + called into counsel. “Monsieur should eat, drink, and sleep in peace. I + take the whole matter upon myself.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, eight days after the conference, when Monsieur de Maulincour, + perfectly restored to health, was breakfasting with his grandmother and + the vidame, Justin entered to make his report. As soon as the dowager had + returned to her own apartments he said, with that mock modesty which men + of talent are so apt to affect:— + </p> + <p> + “Ferragus is not the name of the enemy who is pursuing Monsieur le baron. + This man—this devil, rather—is called Gratien, Henri, Victor, + Jean-Joseph Bourignard. The Sieur Gratien Bourignard is a former + ship-builder, once very rich, and, above all, one of the handsomest men of + his day in Paris,—a Lovelace, capable of seducing Grandison. My + information stops short there. He has been a simple workman; and the + Companions of the Order of the Devorants did, at one time, elect him as + their chief, under the title of Ferragus XXIII. The police ought to know + that, if the police were instituted to know anything. The man has moved + from the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and now roosts rue Joquelet, where + Madame Jules Desmarets goes frequently to see him; sometimes her husband, + on his way to the Bourse, drives her as far as the rue Vivienne, or she + drives her husband to the Bourse. Monsieur le vidame knows about these + things too well to want me to tell him if it is the husband who takes the + wife, or the wife who takes the husband; but Madame Jules is so pretty, + I’d bet on her. All that I have told you is positive. Bourignard often + plays at number 129. Saving your presence, monsieur, he’s a rogue who + loves women, and he has his little ways like a man of condition. As for + the rest, he wins sometimes, disguises himself like an actor, paints his + face to look like anything he chooses, and lives, I may say, the most + original life in the world. I don’t doubt he has a good many lodgings, for + most of the time he manages to evade what Monsieur le vidame calls + ‘parliamentary investigations.’ If monsieur wishes, he could be disposed + of honorably, seeing what his habits are. It is always easy to get rid of + a man who loves women. However, this capitalist talks about moving again. + Have Monsieur le vidame and Monsieur le baron any other commands to give + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Justin, I am satisfied with you; don’t go any farther in the matter + without my orders, but keep a close watch here, so that Monsieur le baron + may have nothing to fear.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” continued the vidame, when they were alone, “go back to + your old life, and forget Madame Jules.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Auguste; “I will never yield to Gratien Bourignard. I will + have him bound hand and foot, and Madame Jules also.” + </p> + <p> + That evening the Baron Auguste de Maulincour, recently promoted to higher + rank in the company of the Body-Guard of the king, went to a ball given by + Madame la Duchesse de Berry at the Elysee-Bourbon. There, certainly, no + danger could lurk for him; and yet, before he left the palace, he had an + affair of honor on his hands,—an affair it was impossible to settle + except by a duel. + </p> + <p> + His adversary, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, considered that he had strong + reasons to complain of Monsieur de Maulincour, who had given some ground + for it during his former intimacy with Monsieur de Ronquerolles’ sister, + the Comtesse de Serizy. That lady, the one who detested German + sentimentality, was all the more exacting in the matter of prudery. By one + of those inexplicable fatalities, Auguste now uttered a harmless jest + which Madame de Serizy took amiss, and her brother resented it. The + discussion took place in the corner of a room, in a low voice. In good + society, adversaries never raise their voices. The next day the faubourg + Saint-Germain and the Chateau talked over the affair. Madame de Serizy was + warmly defended, and all the blame was laid on Maulincour. August + personages interfered. Seconds of the highest distinction were imposed on + Messieurs de Maulincour and de Ronquerolles and every precaution was taken + on the ground that no one should be killed. + </p> + <p> + When Auguste found himself face to face with his antagonist, a man of + pleasure, to whom no one could possibly deny sentiments of the highest + honor, he felt it was impossible to believe him the instrument of + Ferragus, chief of the Devorants; and yet he was compelled, as it were, by + an inexplicable presentiment, to question the marquis. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” he said to the seconds, “I certainly do not refuse to meet + the fire of Monsieur de Ronquerolles; but before doing so, I here declare + that I was to blame, and I offer him whatever excuses he may desire, and + publicly if he wishes it; because when the matter concerns a woman, + nothing, I think, can degrade a man of honor. I therefore appeal to his + generosity and good sense; is there not something rather silly in fighting + without a cause?” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Ronquerolles would not allow of this way of ending the affair, + and then the baron, his suspicions revived, walked up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then! Monsieur le marquis,” he said, “pledge me, in presence of + these gentlemen, your word as a gentleman that you have no other reason + for vengeance than that you have chosen to put forward.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, that is a question you have no right to ask.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Monsieur de Ronquerolles took his place. It was agreed, in + advance, that the adversaries were to be satisfied with one exchange of + shots. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, in spite of the great distance determined + by the seconds, which seemed to make the death of either party + problematical, if not impossible, brought down the baron. The ball went + through the latter’s body just below the heart, but fortunately without + doing vital injury. + </p> + <p> + “You aimed too well, monsieur,” said the baron, “to be avenging only a + paltry quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + And he fainted. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, who believed him to be a dead + man, smiled sardonically as he heard those words. + </p> + <p> + After a fortnight, during which time the dowager and the vidame gave him + those cares of old age the secret of which is in the hands of long + experience only, the baron began to return to life. But one morning his + grandmother dealt him a crushing blow, by revealing anxieties to which, in + her last days, she was now subjected. She showed him a letter signed F, in + which the history of her grandson’s secret espionage was recounted step by + step. The letter accused Monsieur de Maulincour of actions that were + unworthy of a man of honor. He had, it said, placed an old woman at the + stand of hackney-coaches in the rue de Menars; an old spy, who pretended + to sell water from her cask to the coachmen, but who was really there to + watch the actions of Madame Jules Desmarets. He had spied upon the daily + life of a most inoffensive man, in order to detect his secrets,—secrets + on which depended the lives of three persons. He had brought upon himself + a relentless struggle, in which, although he had escaped with life three + times, he must inevitably succumb, because his death had been sworn and + would be compassed if all human means were employed upon it. Monsieur de + Maulincour could no longer escape his fate by even promising to respect + the mysterious life of these three persons, because it was impossible to + believe the word of a gentleman who had fallen to the level of a + police-spy; and for what reason? Merely to trouble the respectable life of + an innocent woman and a harmless old man. + </p> + <p> + The letter itself was nothing to Auguste in comparison to the tender + reproaches of his grandmother. To lack respect to a woman! to spy upon her + actions without a right to do so! Ought a man ever to spy upon a woman + whom he loved?—in short, she poured out a torrent of those excellent + reasons which prove nothing; and they put the young baron, for the first + time in his life, into one of those great human furies in which are born, + and from which issue the most vital actions of a man’s life. + </p> + <p> + “Since it is war to the knife,” he said in conclusion, “I shall kill my + enemy by any means that I can lay hold of.” + </p> + <p> + The vidame went immediately, at Auguste’s request, to the chief of the + private police of Paris, and without bringing Madame Jules’ name or person + into the narrative, although they were really the gist of it, he made the + official aware of the fears of the family of Maulincour about this + mysterious person who was bold enough to swear the death of an officer of + the Guards, in defiance of the law and the police. The chief pushed up his + green spectacles in amazement, blew his nose several times, and offered + snuff to the vidame, who, to save his dignity, pretended not to use + tobacco, although his own nose was discolored with it. Then the chief took + notes and promised, Vidocq and his spies aiding, to send in a report + within a few days to the Maulincour family, assuring them meantime that + there were no secrets for the police of Paris. + </p> + <p> + A few days after this the police official called to see the vidame at the + Hotel de Maulincour, where he found the young baron quite recovered from + his last wound. He gave them in bureaucratic style his thanks for the + indications they had afforded him, and told them that Bourignard was a + convict, condemned to twenty years’ hard labor, who had miraculously + escaped from a gang which was being transported from Bicetre to Toulon. + For thirteen years the police had been endeavoring to recapture him, + knowing that he had boldly returned to Paris; but so far this convict had + escaped the most active search, although he was known to be mixed up in + many nefarious deeds. However, the man, whose life was full of very + curious incidents, would certainly be captured now in one or other of his + several domiciles and delivered up to justice. The bureaucrat ended his + report by saying to Monsieur de Maulincour that if he attached enough + importance to the matter to wish to witness the capture of Bourignard, he + might come the next day at eight in the morning to a house in the rue + Sainte-Foi, of which he gave him the number. Monsieur de Maulincour + excused himself from going personally in search of certainty,—trusting, + with the sacred respect inspired by the police of Paris, in the capability + of the authorities. + </p> + <p> + Three days later, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing in the newspapers + about the projected arrest, which was certainly of enough importance to + have furnished an article, Monsieur de Maulincour was beginning to feel + anxieties which were presently allayed by the following letter:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Monsieur le Baron,—I have the honor to announce to you that you + need have no further uneasiness touching the affair in question. + The man named Gratien Bourignard, otherwise called Ferragus, died + yesterday, at his lodgings, rue Joquelet No. 7. The suspicions we + naturally conceived as to the identity of the dead body have been + completely set at rest by the facts. The physician of the + Prefecture of police was despatched by us to assist the physician + of the arrondissement, and the chief of the detective police made + all the necessary verifications to obtain absolute certainty. + Moreover, the character of the persons who signed the certificate + of death, and the affidavits of those who took care of the said + Bourignard in his last illness, among others that of the worthy + vicar of the church of the Bonne-Nouvelle (to whom he made his + last confession, for he died a Christian), do not permit us to + entertain any sort of doubt. +</pre> + <p> + Accept, Monsieur le baron, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Maulincour, the dowager, and the vidame breathed again with + joy unspeakable. The good old woman kissed her grandson leaving a tear + upon his cheek, and went away to thank God in prayer. The dear soul, who + was making a novena for Auguste’s safety, believed her prayers were + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the vidame, “now you had better show yourself at the ball you + were speaking of. I oppose no further objections.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE WIFE ACCUSED + </h2> + <p> + Monsieur de Maulincour was all the more anxious to go to this ball because + he knew that Madame Jules would be present. The fete was given by the + Prefect of the Seine, in whose salons the two social worlds of Paris met + as on neutral ground. Auguste passed through the rooms without finding the + woman who now exercised so mighty an influence on his fate. He entered an + empty boudoir where card-tables were placed awaiting players; and sitting + down on a divan he gave himself up to the most contradictory thoughts + about her. A man presently took the young officer by the arm, and looking + up the baron was stupefied to behold the pauper of the rue Coquilliere, + the Ferragus of Ida, the lodger in the rue Soly, the Bourignard of Justin, + the convict of the police, and the dead man of the day before. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, not a sound, not a word,” said Bourignard, whose voice he + recognized. The man was elegantly dressed; he wore the order of the + Golden-Fleece, and a medal on his coat. “Monsieur,” he continued, and his + voice was sibilant like that of a hyena, “you increase my efforts against + you by having recourse to the police. You will perish, monsieur; it has + now become necessary. Do you love Madame Jules? Are you beloved by her? By + what right do you trouble her peaceful life, and blacken her virtue?” + </p> + <p> + Some one entered the card-room. Ferragus rose to go. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know this man?” asked Monsieur de Maulincour of the new-comer, + seizing Ferragus by the collar. But Ferragus quickly disengaged himself, + took Monsieur de Maulincour by the hair, and shook his head rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “Must you have lead in it to make it steady?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know him personally,” replied Henri de Marsay, the spectator of + this scene, “but I know that he is Monsieur de Funcal, a rich Portuguese.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Funcal had disappeared. The baron followed but without being + able to overtake him until he reached the peristyle, where he saw + Ferragus, who looked at him with a jeering laugh from a brilliant equipage + which was driven away at high speed. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Auguste, re-entering the salon and addressing de Marsay, + whom he knew, “I entreat you to tell me where Monsieur de Funcal lives.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know; but some one here can no doubt tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The baron, having questioned the prefect, ascertained that the Comte de + Funcal lived at the Portuguese embassy. At this moment, while he still + felt the icy fingers of that strange man in his hair, he saw Madame Jules + in all her dazzling beauty, fresh, gracious, artless, resplendent with the + sanctity of womanhood which had won his love. This creature, now infernal + to him, excited no emotion in his soul but that of hatred; and this hatred + shone in a savage, terrible look from his eyes. He watched for a moment + when he could speak to her unheard, and then he said:— + </p> + <p> + “Madame, your <i>bravi</i> have missed me three times.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, monsieur?” she said, flushing. “I know that you have + had several unfortunate accidents lately, which I have greatly regretted; + but how could I have had anything to do with them?” + </p> + <p> + “You knew that <i>bravi</i> were employed against me by that man of the + rue Soly?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I now call you to account, not for my happiness only, but for my + blood—” + </p> + <p> + At this instant Jules Desmarets approached them. + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying to my wife, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “Make that inquiry at my own house, monsieur, if you are curious,” said + Maulincour, moving away, and leaving Madame Jules in an almost fainting + condition. + </p> + <p> + There are few women who have not found themselves, once at least in their + lives, <i>a propos</i> of some undeniable fact, confronted with a direct, + sharp, uncompromising question,—one of those questions pitilessly + asked by husbands, the mere apprehension of which gives a chill, while the + actual words enter the heart like the blade of a dagger. It is from such + crises that the maxim has come, “All women lie.” Falsehood, kindly + falsehood, venial falsehood, sublime falsehood, horrible falsehood,—but + always the necessity to lie. This necessity admitted, ought they not to + know how to lie well? French women do it admirably. Our manners and + customs teach them deception! Besides, women are so naively saucy, so + pretty, graceful, and withal so true in lying,—they recognize so + fully the utility of doing so in order to avoid in social life the violent + shocks which happiness might not resist,—that lying is seen to be as + necessary to their lives as the cotton-wool in which they put away their + jewels. Falsehood becomes to them the foundation of speech; truth is + exceptional; they tell it, if they are virtuous, by caprice or by + calculation. According to individual character, some women laugh when they + lie; others weep; others are grave; some grow angry. After beginning life + by feigning indifference to the homage that deeply flatters them, they + often end by lying to themselves. Who has not admired their apparent + superiority to everything at the very moment when they are trembling for + the secret treasures of their love? Who has never studied their ease, + their readiness, their freedom of mind in the greatest embarrassments of + life? In them, nothing is put on. Deception comes as the snow from heaven. + And then, with what art they discover the truth in others! With what + shrewdness they employ a direct logic in answer to some passionate + question which has revealed to them the secret of the heart of a man who + was guileless enough to proceed by questioning! To question a woman! why, + that is delivering one’s self up to her; does she not learn in that way + all that we seek to hide from her? Does she not know also how to be dumb, + through speaking? What men are daring enough to struggle with the Parisian + woman?—a woman who knows how to hold herself above all dagger + thrusts, saying: “You are very inquisitive; what is it to you? Why do you + wish to know? Ah! you are jealous! And suppose I do not choose to answer + you?”—in short, a woman who possesses the hundred and thirty-seven + methods of saying <i>No</i>, and incommensurable variations of the word <i>Yes</i>. + Is not a treatise on the words <i>yes</i> and <i>no</i>, a fine + diplomatic, philosophic, logographic, and moral work, still waiting to be + written? But to accomplish this work, which we may also call diabolic, + isn’t an androgynous genius necessary? For that reason, probably, it will + never be attempted. And besides, of all unpublished works isn’t it the + best known and the best practised among women? Have you studied the + behavior, the pose, the <i>disinvoltura</i> of a falsehood? Examine it. + </p> + <p> + Madame Desmarets was seated in the right-hand corner of her carriage, her + husband in the left. Having forced herself to recover from her emotion in + the ballroom, she now affected a calm demeanor. Her husband had then said + nothing to her, and he still said nothing. Jules looked out of the + carriage window at the black walls of the silent houses before which they + passed; but suddenly, as if driven by a determining thought, when turning + the corner of a street he examined his wife, who appeared to be cold in + spite of the fur-lined pelisse in which she was wrapped. He thought she + seemed pensive, and perhaps she really was so. Of all communicable things, + reflection and gravity are the most contagious. + </p> + <p> + “What could Monsieur de Maulincour have said to affect you so keenly?” + said Jules; “and why does he wish me to go to his house and find out?” + </p> + <p> + “He can tell you nothing in his house that I cannot tell you here,” she + replied. + </p> + <p> + Then, with that feminine craft which always slightly degrades virtue, + Madame Jules waited for another question. Her husband turned his face back + to the houses, and continued his study of their walls. Another question + would imply suspicion, distrust. To suspect a woman is a crime in love. + Jules had already killed a man for doubting his wife. Clemence did not + know all there was of true passion, of loyal reflection, in her husband’s + silence; just as Jules was ignorant of the generous drama that was + wringing the heart of his Clemence. + </p> + <p> + The carriage rolled on through a silent Paris, bearing the couple,—two + lovers who adored each other, and who, gently leaning on the same silken + cushion, were being parted by an abyss. In these elegant coupes returning + from a ball between midnight and two in the morning, how many curious and + singular scenes must pass,—meaning those coupes with lanterns, which + light both the street and the carriage, those with their windows unshaded; + in short, legitimate coupes, in which couples can quarrel without caring + for the eyes of pedestrians, because the civil code gives a right to + provoke, or beat, or kiss, a wife in a carriage or elsewhere, anywhere, + everywhere! How many secrets must be revealed in this way to nocturnal + pedestrians,—to those young fellows who have gone to a ball in a + carriage, but are obliged, for whatever cause it may be, to return on + foot. It was the first time that Jules and Clemence had been together + thus,—each in a corner; usually the husband pressed close to his + wife. + </p> + <p> + “It is very cold,” remarked Madame Jules. + </p> + <p> + But her husband did not hear her; he was studying the signs above the shop + windows. + </p> + <p> + “Clemence,” he said at last, “forgive me the question I am about to ask + you.” + </p> + <p> + He came closer, took her by the waist, and drew her to him. + </p> + <p> + “My God, it is coming!” thought the poor woman. “Well,” she said aloud, + anticipating the question, “you want to know what Monsieur de Maulincour + said to me. I will tell you, Jules; but not without fear. Good God! how is + it possible that you and I should have secrets from one another? For the + last few moments I have seen you struggling between a conviction of our + love and vague fears. But that conviction is clear within us, is it not? + And these doubts and fears, do they not seem to you dark and unnatural? + Why not stay in that clear light of love you cannot doubt? When I have + told you all, you will still desire to know more; and yet I myself do not + know what the extraordinary words of that man meant. What I fear is that + this may lead to some fatal affair between you. I would rather that we + both forget this unpleasant moment. But, in any case, swear to me that you + will let this singular adventure explain itself naturally. Here are the + facts. Monsieur de Maulincour declared to me that the three accidents you + have heard mentioned—the falling of a stone on his servant, the + breaking down of his cabriolet, and his duel about Madame de Serizy—were + the result of some plot I had laid against him. He also threatened to + reveal to you the cause of my desire to destroy him. Can you imagine what + all this means? My emotion came from the sight of his face convulsed with + madness, his haggard eyes, and also his words, broken by some violent + inward emotion. I thought him mad. That is all that took place. Now, I + should be less than a woman if I had not perceived that for over a year I + have become, as they call it, the passion of Monsieur de Maulincour. He + has never seen me except at a ball; and our intercourse has been most + insignificant,—merely that which every one shares at a ball. Perhaps + he wants to disunite us, so that he may find me at some future time alone + and unprotected. There, see! already you are frowning! Oh, how cordially I + hate society! We were so happy without him; why take any notice of him? + Jules, I entreat you, forget all this! To-morrow we shall, no doubt, hear + that Monsieur de Maulincour has gone mad.” + </p> + <p> + “What a singular affair!” thought Jules, as the carriage stopped under the + peristyle of their house. He gave his arm to his wife and together they + went up to their apartments. + </p> + <p> + To develop this history in all its truth of detail, and to follow its + course through many windings, it is necessary here to divulge some of + love’s secrets, to glide beneath the ceilings of a marriage chamber, not + shamelessly, but like Trilby, frightening neither Dougal nor Jeannie, + alarming no one,—being as chaste as our noble French language + requires, and as bold as the pencil of Gerard in his picture of Daphnis + and Chloe. + </p> + <p> + The bedroom of Madame Jules was a sacred plot. Herself, her husband, and + her maid alone entered it. Opulence has glorious privileges, and the most + enviable are those which enable the development of sentiments to their + fullest extent,—fertilizing them by the accomplishment of even their + caprices, and surrounding them with a brilliancy that enlarges them, with + refinements that purify them, with a thousand delicacies that make them + still more alluring. If you hate dinners on the grass, and meals + ill-served, if you feel a pleasure in seeing a damask cloth that is + dazzlingly white, a silver-gilt dinner service, and porcelain of exquisite + purity, lighted by transparent candles, where miracles of cookery are + served under silver covers bearing coats of arms, you must, to be + consistent, leave the garrets at the tops of the houses, and the grisettes + in the streets, abandon garrets, grisettes, umbrellas, and overshoes to + men who pay for their dinners with tickets; and you must also comprehend + Love to be a principle which develops in all its grace only on Savonnerie + carpets, beneath the opal gleams of an alabaster lamp, between guarded + walls silk-hung, before gilded hearths in chambers deadened to all outward + sounds by shutters and billowy curtains. Mirrors must be there to show the + play of form and repeat the woman we would multiply as love itself + multiplies and magnifies her; next low divans, and a bed which, like a + secret, is divined, not shown. In this coquettish chamber are fur-lined + slippers for pretty feet, wax-candles under glass with muslin draperies, + by which to read at all hours of the night, and flowers, not those + oppressive to the head, and linen, the fineness of which might have + satisfied Anne of Austria. + </p> + <p> + Madame Jules had realized this charming programme, but that was nothing. + All women of taste can do as much, though there is always in the + arrangement of these details a stamp of personality which gives to this + decoration or that detail a character that cannot be imitated. To-day, + more than ever, reigns the fanaticism of individuality. The more our laws + tend to an impossible equality, the more we shall get away from it in our + manners and customs. Thus, rich people are beginning, in France, to become + more exclusive in their tastes and their belongings, than they have been + for the last thirty years. Madame Jules knew very well how to carry out + this programme; and everything about her was arranged in harmony with a + luxury that suits so well with love. Love in a cottage, or “Fifteen + hundred francs and my Sophy,” is the dream of starvelings to whom black + bread suffices in their present state; but when love really comes, they + grow fastidious and end by craving the luxuries of gastronomy. Love holds + toil and poverty in horror. It would rather die than merely live on from + hand to mouth. + </p> + <p> + Many women, returning from a ball, impatient for their beds, throw off + their gowns, their faded flowers, their bouquets, the fragrance of which + has now departed. They leave their little shoes beneath a chair, the white + strings trailing; they take out their combs and let their hair roll down + as it will. Little they care if their husbands see the puffs, the + hairpins, the artful props which supported the elegant edifices of the + hair, and the garlands or the jewels that adorned it. No more mysteries! + all is over for the husband; no more painting or decoration for him. The + corset—half the time it is a corset of a reparative kind—lies + where it is thrown, if the maid is too sleepy to take it away with her. + The whalebone bustle, the oiled-silk protections round the sleeves, the + pads, the hair bought from a coiffeur, all the false woman is there, + scattered about in open sight. <i>Disjecta membra poetae</i>, the + artificial poesy, so much admired by those for whom it is conceived and + elaborated, the fragments of a pretty woman, litter every corner of the + room. To the love of a yawning husband, the actual presents herself, also + yawning, in a dishabille without elegance, and a tumbled night-cap, that + of last night and that of to-morrow night also,—“For really, + monsieur, if you want a pretty cap to rumple every night, increase my + pin-money.” + </p> + <p> + There’s life as it is! A woman makes herself old and unpleasing to her + husband; but dainty and elegant and adorned for others, for the rival of + all husbands,—for that world which calumniates and tears to shreds + her sex. + </p> + <p> + Inspired by true love, for Love has, like other creations, its instinct of + preservation, Madame Jules did very differently; she found in the constant + blessing of her love the necessary impulse to fulfil all those minute + personal cares which ought never to be relaxed, because they perpetuate + love. Besides, such personal cares and duties proceed from a personal + dignity which becomes all women, and are among the sweetest of flatteries, + for is it not respecting in themselves the man they love? + </p> + <p> + So Madame Jules denied to her husband all access to her dressing-room, + where she left the accessories of her toilet, and whence she issued + mysteriously adorned for the mysterious fetes of her heart. Entering their + chamber, which was always graceful and elegant, Jules found a woman + coquettishly wrapped in a charming <i>peignoir</i>, her hair simply wound + in heavy coils around her head; a woman always more simple, more beautiful + there than she was before the world; a woman just refreshed in water, + whose only artifice consisted in being whiter than her muslins, sweeter + than all perfumes, more seductive than any siren, always loving and + therefore always loved. This admirable understanding of a wife’s business + was the secret of Josephine’s charm for Napoleon, as in former times it + was that of Caesonia for Caius Caligula, of Diane de Poitiers for Henri + II. If it was largely productive to women of seven or eight lustres what a + weapon is it in the hands of young women! A husband gathers with delight + the rewards of his fidelity. + </p> + <p> + Returning home after the conversation which had chilled her with fear, and + still gave her the keenest anxiety, Madame Jules took particular pains + with her toilet for the night. She wanted to make herself, and she did + make herself enchanting. She belted the cambric of her dressing-gown round + her waist, defining the lines of her bust; she allowed her hair to fall + upon her beautifully modelled shoulders. A perfumed bath had given her a + delightful fragrance, and her little bare feet were in velvet slippers. + Strong in a sense of her advantages she came in stepping softly, and put + her hands over her husband’s eyes. She thought him pensive; he was + standing in his dressing-gown before the fire, his elbow on the mantel and + one foot on the fender. She said in his ear, warming it with her breath, + and nibbling the tip of it with her teeth:— + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking about, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + Then she pressed him in her arms as if to tear him away from all evil + thoughts. The woman who loves has a full knowledge of her power; the more + virtuous she is, the more effectual her coquetry. + </p> + <p> + “About you,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Only about me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that’s a very doubtful ‘yes.’” + </p> + <p> + They went to bed. As she fell asleep, Madame Jules said to herself:— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Maulincour will certainly cause some evil. Jules’ mind is + preoccupied, disturbed; he is nursing thoughts he does not tell me.” + </p> + <p> + It was three in the morning when Madame Jules was awakened by a + presentiment which struck her heart as she slept. She had a sense both + physical and moral of her husband’s absence. She did not feel the arm + Jules passed beneath her head,—that arm in which she had slept, + peacefully and happy, for five years; an arm she had never wearied. A + voice said to her, “Jules suffers, Jules is weeping.” She raised her head, + and then sat up; felt that her husband’s place was cold, and saw him + sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, his head resting against + the back of an arm-chair. Tears were on his cheeks. The poor woman threw + herself hastily from her bed and sprang at a bound to her husband’s knees. + </p> + <p> + “Jules! what is it? Are you ill? Speak, tell me! Speak to me, if you love + me!” and she poured out a hundred words expressing the deepest tenderness. + </p> + <p> + Jules knelt at her feet, kissed her hands and knees, and answered with + fresh tears:— + </p> + <p> + “Dear Clemence, I am most unhappy! It is not loving to distrust the one we + love. I adore you and suspect you. The words that man said to me to-night + have struck to my heart; they stay there in spite of myself, and confound + me. There is some mystery here. In short, and I blush to say it, your + explanations do not satisfy me. My reason casts gleams into my soul which + my love rejects. It is an awful combat. Could I stay there, holding your + head, and suspecting thoughts within it to me unknown? Oh! I believe in + you, I believe in you!” he cried, seeing her smile sadly and open her + mouth as if to speak. “Say nothing; do not reproach me. Besides, could you + say anything I have not said myself for the last three hours? Yes, for + three hours, I have been here, watching you as you slept, so beautiful! + admiring that pure, peaceful brow. Yes, yes! you have always told me your + thoughts, have you not? I alone am in that soul. While I look at you, + while my eyes can plunge into yours I see all plainly. Your life is as + pure as your glance is clear. No, there is no secret behind those + transparent eyes.” He rose and kissed their lids. “Let me avow to you, + dearest soul,” he said, “that for the last five years each day has + increased my happiness, through the knowledge that you are all mine, and + that no natural affection even can take any of your love. Having no + sister, no father, no mother, no companion, I am neither above nor below + any living being in your heart; I am alone there. Clemence, repeat to me + those sweet things of the spirit you have so often said to me; do not + blame me; comfort me, I am so unhappy. I have an odious suspicion on my + conscience, and you have nothing in your heart to sear it. My beloved, + tell me, could I stay there beside you? Could two heads united as ours + have been lie on the same pillow when one was suffering and the other + tranquil? What are you thinking of?” he cried abruptly, observing that + Clemence was anxious, confused, and seemed unable to restrain her tears. + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of my mother,” she answered, in a grave voice. “You will + never know, Jules, what I suffer in remembering my mother’s dying + farewell, said in a voice sweeter than all music, and in feeling the + solemn touch of her icy hand at a moment when you overwhelm me with those + assurances of your precious love.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her husband, strained him to her with a nervous force greater + than that of men, and kissed his hair, covering it with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I would be hacked in pieces for you! Tell me that I make you happy; + that I am to you the most beautiful of women—a thousand women to + you. Oh! you are loved as no other man ever was or will be. I don’t know + the meaning of those words ‘duty,’ ‘virtue.’ Jules, I love you for + yourself; I am happy in loving you; I shall love you more and more to my + dying day. I have pride in my love; I feel it is my destiny to have one + sole emotion in my life. What I shall tell you now is dreadful, I know—but + I am glad to have no child; I do not wish for any. I feel I am more wife + than mother. Well, then, can you fear? Listen to me, my own beloved, + promise to forget, not this hour of mingled tenderness and doubt, but the + words of that madman. Jules, you <i>must</i>. Promise me not to see him, + not to go to him. I have a deep conviction that if you set one foot in + that maze we shall both roll down a precipice where I shall perish—but + with your name upon my lips, your heart in my heart. Why hold me so high + in that heart and yet so low in reality? What! you who give credit to so + many as to money, can you not give me the charity of faith? And on the + first occasion in our lives when you might prove to me your boundless + trust, do you cast me from my throne in your heart? Between a madman and + me, it is the madman whom you choose to believe? oh, Jules!” She stopped, + threw back the hair that fell about her brow and neck, and then, in a + heart-rending tone, she added: “I have said too much; one word should + suffice. If your soul and your forehead still keep this cloud, however + light it be, I tell you now that I shall die of it.” + </p> + <p> + She could not repress a shudder, and turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I will kill that man,” thought Jules, as he lifted his wife in his + arms and carried her to her bed. + </p> + <p> + “Let us sleep in peace, my angel,” he said. “I have forgotten all, I swear + it!” + </p> + <p> + Clemence fell asleep to the music of those sweet words, softly repeated. + Jules, as he watched her sleeping, said in his heart:— + </p> + <p> + “She is right; when love is so pure, suspicion blights it. To that young + soul, that tender flower, a blight—yes, a blight means death.” + </p> + <p> + When a cloud comes between two beings filled with affection for each other + and whose lives are in absolute unison, that cloud, though it may + disperse, leaves in those souls a trace of its passage. Either love gains + a stronger life, as the earth after rain, or the shock still echoes like + distant thunder through a cloudless sky. It is impossible to recover + absolutely the former life; love will either increase or diminish. + </p> + <p> + At breakfast, Monsieur and Madame Jules showed to each other those + particular attentions in which there is always something of affectation. + There were glances of forced gaiety, which seemed the efforts of persons + endeavoring to deceive themselves. Jules had involuntary doubts, his wife + had positive fears. Still, sure of each other, they had slept. Was this + strained condition the effect of a want of faith, or was it only a memory + of their nocturnal scene? They did not know themselves. But they loved + each other so purely that the impression of that scene, both cruel and + beneficent, could not fail to leave its traces in their souls; both were + eager to make those traces disappear, each striving to be the first to + return to the other, and thus they could not fail to think of the cause of + their first variance. To loving souls, this is not grief; pain is still + far-off; but it is a sort of mourning, which is difficult to depict. If + there are, indeed, relations between colors and the emotions of the soul, + if, as Locke’s blind man said, scarlet produces on the sight the effect + produced upon the hearing by a blast of trumpets, it is permissible to + compare this reaction of melancholy to mourning tones of gray. + </p> + <p> + But even so, love saddened, love in which remains a true sentiment of its + happiness, momentarily troubled though it be, gives enjoyments derived + from pain and pleasure both, which are all novel. Jules studied his wife’s + voice; he watched her glances with the freshness of feeling that inspired + him in the earliest days of his passion for her. The memory of five + absolutely happy years, her beauty, the candor of her love, quickly + effaced in her husband’s mind the last vestiges of an intolerable pain. + </p> + <p> + The day was Sunday,—a day on which there was no Bourse and no + business to be done. The reunited pair passed the whole day together, + getting farther into each other’s hearts than they ever yet had done, like + two children who in a moment of fear, hold each other closely and cling + together, united by an instinct. There are in this life of two-in-one + completely happy days, the gift of chance, ephemeral flowers, born neither + of yesterday nor belonging to the morrow. Jules and Clemence now enjoyed + this day as though they forboded it to be the last of their loving life. + What name shall we give to that mysterious power which hastens the steps + of travellers before the storm is visible; which makes the life and beauty + of the dying so resplendent, and fills the parting soul with joyous + projects for days before death comes; which tells the midnight student to + fill his lamp when it shines brightest; and makes the mother fear the + thoughtful look cast upon her infant by an observing man? We all are + affected by this influence in the great catastrophes of life; but it has + never yet been named or studied; it is something more than presentiment, + but not as yet clear vision. + </p> + <p> + All went well till the following day. On Monday, Jules Desmarets, obliged + to go to the Bourse on his usual business, asked his wife, as usual, if + she would take advantage of his carriage and let him drive her anywhere. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “the day is too unpleasant to go out.” + </p> + <p> + It was raining in torrents. At half-past two o’clock Monsieur Desmarets + reached the Treasury. At four o’clock, as he left the Bourse, he came face + to face with Monsieur de Maulincour, who was waiting for him with the + nervous pertinacity of hatred and vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he said, taking Monsieur Desmarets by the arm, “I have + important information to give you. Listen to me. I am too loyal a man to + have recourse to anonymous letters with which to trouble your peace of + mind; I prefer to speak to you in person. Believe me, if my very life were + not concerned, I should not meddle with the private affairs of any + household, even if I thought I had the right to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “If what you have to say to me concerns Madame Desmarets,” replied Jules, + “I request you to be silent, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “If I am silent, monsieur, you may before long see Madame Jules on the + prisoner’s bench at the court of assizes beside a convict. Now, do you + wish me to be silent?” + </p> + <p> + Jules turned pale; but his noble face instantly resumed its calmness, + though it was now a false calmness. Drawing the baron under one of the + temporary sheds of the Bourse, near which they were standing, he said to + him in a voice which concealed his intense inward emotion:— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I will listen to you; but there will be a duel to the death + between us if—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to that I consent!” cried Monsieur de Maulincour. “I have the + greatest esteem for your character. You speak of death. You are unaware + that your wife may have assisted in poisoning me last Saturday night. Yes, + monsieur, since then some extraordinary evil has developed in me. My hair + appears to distil an inward fever and a deadly languor through my skull; I + know who clutched my hair at that ball.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Maulincour then related, without omitting a single fact, his + platonic love for Madame Jules, and the details of the affair in the rue + Soly which began this narrative. Any one would have listened to him with + attention; but Madame Jules’ husband had good reason to be more amazed + than any other human being. Here his character displayed itself; he was + more amazed than overcome. Made a judge, and the judge of an adored woman, + he found in his soul the equity of a judge as well as the inflexibility. A + lover still, he thought less of his own shattered life than of his wife’s + life; he listened, not to his own anguish, but to some far-off voice that + cried to him, “Clemence cannot lie! Why should she betray you?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the baron, as he ended, “being absolutely certain of + having recognized in Monsieur de Funcal the same Ferragus whom the police + declared dead, I have put upon his traces an intelligent man. As I + returned that night I remembered, by a fortunate chance, the name of + Madame Meynardie, mentioned in that letter of Ida, the presumed mistress + of my persecutor. Supplied with this clue, my emissary will soon get to + the bottom of this horrible affair; for he is far more able to discover + the truth than the police themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” replied Desmarets, “I know not how to thank you for this + confidence. You say that you can obtain proofs and witnesses; I shall + await them. I shall seek the truth of this strange affair courageously; + but you must permit me to doubt everything until the evidence of the facts + you state is proved to me. In any case you shall have satisfaction, for, + as you will certainly understand, we both require it.” + </p> + <p> + Jules returned home. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Jules?” asked his wife, when she saw him. “You look + so pale you frighten me!” + </p> + <p> + “The day is cold,” he answered, walking with slow steps across the room + where all things spoke to him of love and happiness,—that room so + calm and peaceful where a deadly storm was gathering. + </p> + <p> + “Did you go out to-day?” he asked, as though mechanically. + </p> + <p> + He was impelled to ask the question by the last of a myriad of thoughts + which had gathered themselves together into a lucid meditation, though + jealousy was actively prompting them. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, in a tone that was falsely candid. + </p> + <p> + At that instant Jules saw through the open door of the dressing-room the + velvet bonnet which his wife wore in the mornings; on it were drops of + rain. Jules was a passionate man, but he was also full of delicacy. It was + repugnant to him to bring his wife face to face with a lie. When such a + situation occurs, all has come to an end forever between certain beings. + And yet those drops of rain were like a flash tearing through his brain. + </p> + <p> + He left the room, went down to the porter’s lodge, and said to the porter, + after making sure that they were alone:— + </p> + <p> + “Fouguereau, a hundred crowns if you tell me the truth; dismissal if you + deceive me; and nothing at all if you ever speak of my question and your + answer.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped to examine the man’s face, leading him under the window. Then + he continued:— + </p> + <p> + “Did madame go out this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in + about half an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, upon your honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have the money; but if you speak of this, remember, you will + lose all.” + </p> + <p> + Jules returned to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Clemence,” he said, “I find I must put my accounts in order. Do not be + offended at the inquiry I am going to make. Have I not given you forty + thousand francs since the beginning of the year?” + </p> + <p> + “More,” she said,—“forty-seven.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you spent them?” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly,” she replied. “In the first place, I had to pay several of our + last year’s bills—” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never find out anything in this way,” thought Jules. “I am not + taking the best course.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Jules’ own valet entered the room with a letter for his + master, who opened it indifferently, but as soon as his eyes had lighted + on the signature he read it eagerly. The letter was as follows:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Monsieur,—For the sake of your peace of mind as well as ours, I + take the course of writing you this letter without possessing the + advantage of being known to you; but my position, my age, and the + fear of some misfortune compel me to entreat you to show + indulgence in the trying circumstances under which our afflicted + family is placed. Monsieur Auguste de Maulincour has for the last + few days shown signs of mental derangement, and we fear that he + may trouble your happiness by fancies which he confided to + Monsieur le Vidame de Pamiers and myself during his first attack + of frenzy. We think it right, therefore, to warn you of his + malady, which is, we hope, curable; but it will have such serious + and important effects on the honor of our family and the career of + my grandson that we must rely, monsieur, on your entire + discretion. + + If Monsieur le Vidame or I could have gone to see you we would not + have written. But I make no doubt that you will regard this prayer + of a mother, who begs you to destroy this letter. + + Accept the assurance of my perfect consideration. +</pre> + <p> + Baronne de Maulincour, <i>nee</i> de Rieux. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what torture!” cried Jules. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? what is in your mind?” asked his wife, exhibiting the deepest + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “I have come,” he answered, slowly, as he threw her the letter, “to ask + myself whether it can be you who have sent me that to avert my suspicions. + Judge, therefore, what I suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy man!” said Madame Jules, letting fall the paper. “I pity him; + though he has done me great harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you aware that he has spoken to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! have you been to see him, in spite of your promise?” she cried in + terror. + </p> + <p> + “Clemence, our love is in danger of perishing; we stand outside of the + ordinary rules of life; let us lay aside all petty considerations in + presence of this great peril. Explain to me why you went out this morning. + Women think they have the right to tell us little falsehoods. Sometimes + they like to hide a pleasure they are preparing for us. Just now you said + a word to me, by mistake, no doubt, a no for a yes.” + </p> + <p> + He went into the dressing-room and brought out the bonnet. + </p> + <p> + “See,” he said, “your bonnet has betrayed you; these spots are raindrops. + You must, therefore, have gone out in a street cab, and these drops fell + upon it as you went to find one, or as you entered or left the house where + you went. But a woman can leave her own home for many innocent purposes, + even after she has told her husband that she did not mean to go out. There + are so many reasons for changing our plans! Caprices, whims, are they not + your right? Women are not required to be consistent with themselves. You + had forgotten something,—a service to render, a visit, some kind + action. But nothing hinders a woman from telling her husband what she + does. Can we ever blush on the breast of a friend? It is not a jealous + husband who speaks to you, my Clemence; it is your lover, your friend, + your brother.” He flung himself passionately at her feet. “Speak, not to + justify yourself, but to calm my horrible sufferings. I know that you went + out. Well—what did you do? where did you go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I went out, Jules,” she answered in a strained voice, though her + face was calm. “But ask me nothing more. Wait; have confidence; without + which you will lay up for yourself terrible remorse. Jules, my Jules, + trust is the virtue of love. I owe to you that I am at this moment too + troubled to answer you: but I am not a false woman; I love you, and you + know it.” + </p> + <p> + “In the midst of all that can shake the faith of man and rouse his + jealousy, for I see I am not first in your heart, I am no longer thine own + self—well, Clemence, even so, I prefer to believe you, to believe + that voice, to believe those eyes. If you deceive me, you deserve—” + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand deaths!” she cried, interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + “I have never hidden a thought from you, but you—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” she said, “our happiness depends upon our mutual silence.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! I <i>will</i> know all!” he exclaimed, with sudden violence. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the cries of a woman were heard,—the yelping of a + shrill little voice came from the antechamber. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I will go in!” it cried. “Yes, I shall go in; I will see her! + I shall see her!” + </p> + <p> + Jules and Clemence both ran to the salon as the door from the antechamber + was violently burst open. A young woman entered hastily, followed by two + servants, who said to their master:— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, this person would come in in spite of us. We told her that + madame was not at home. She answered that she knew very well madame had + been out, but she saw her come in. She threatened to stay at the door of + the house till she could speak to madame.” + </p> + <p> + “You can go,” said Monsieur Desmarets to the two men. “What do you want, + mademoiselle?” he added, turning to the strange woman. + </p> + <p> + This “demoiselle” was the type of a woman who is never to be met with + except in Paris. She is made in Paris, like the mud, like the pavement, + like the water of the Seine, such as it becomes in Paris before human + industry filters it ten times ere it enters the cut-glass decanters and + sparkles pure and bright from the filth it has been. She is therefore a + being who is truly original. Depicted scores of times by the painter’s + brush, the pencil of the caricaturist, the charcoal of the etcher, she + still escapes analysis, because she cannot be caught and rendered in all + her moods, like Nature, like this fantastic Paris itself. She holds to + vice by one thread only, and she breaks away from it at a thousand other + points of the social circumference. Besides, she lets only one trait of + her character be known, and that the only one which renders her blamable; + her noble virtues are hidden; she prefers to glory in her naive + libertinism. Most incompletely rendered in dramas and tales where she is + put upon the scene with all her poesy, she is nowhere really true but in + her garret; elsewhere she is invariably calumniated or over-praised. Rich, + she deteriorates; poor, she is misunderstood. She has too many vices, and + too many good qualities; she is too near to pathetic asphyxiation or to a + dissolute laugh; too beautiful and too hideous. She personifies Paris, to + which, in the long run, she supplies the toothless portresses, + washerwomen, street-sweepers, beggars, occasionally insolent countesses, + admired actresses, applauded singers; she has even given, in the olden + time, two quasi-queens to the monarchy. Who can grasp such a Proteus? She + is all woman, less than woman, more than woman. From this vast portrait + the painter of manners and morals can take but a feature here and there; + the <i>ensemble</i> is infinite. + </p> + <p> + She was a grisette of Paris; a grisette in all her glory; a grisette in a + hackney-coach,—happy, young, handsome, fresh, but a grisette; a + grisette with claws, scissors, impudent as a Spanish woman, snarling as a + prudish English woman proclaiming her conjugal rights, coquettish as a + great lady, though more frank, and ready for everything; a perfect <i>lionne</i> + in her way; issuing from the little apartment of which she had dreamed so + often, with its red-calico curtains, its Utrecht velvet furniture, its + tea-table, the cabinet of china with painted designs, the sofa, the little + moquette carpet, the alabaster clock and candlesticks (under glass cases), + the yellow bedroom, the eider-down quilt,—in short, all the domestic + joys of a grisette’s life; and in addition, the woman-of-all-work (a + former grisette herself, now the owner of a moustache), theatre-parties, + unlimited bonbons, silk dresses, bonnets to spoil,—in fact, all the + felicities coveted by the grisette heart except a carriage, which only + enters her imagination as a marshal’s baton into the dreams of a soldier. + Yes, this grisette had all these things in return for a true affection, or + in spite of a true affection, as some others obtain it for an hour a day,—a + sort of tax carelessly paid under the claws of an old man. + </p> + <p> + The young woman who now entered the presence of Monsieur and Madame Jules + had a pair of feet so little covered by her shoes that only a slim black + line was visible between the carpet and her white stockings. This peculiar + foot-gear, which Parisian caricaturists have well-rendered, is a special + attribute of the grisette of Paris; but she is even more distinctive to + the eyes of an observer by the care with which her garments are made to + adhere to her form, which they clearly define. On this occasion she was + trigly dressed in a green gown, with a white chemisette, which allowed the + beauty of her bust to be seen; her shawl, of Ternaux cashmere, had fallen + from her shoulders, and was held by its two corners, which were twisted + round her wrists. She had a delicate face, rosy cheeks, a white skin, + sparkling gray eyes, a round, very promising forehead, hair carefully + smoothed beneath her little bonnet, and heavy curls upon her neck. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Ida,” she said, “and if that’s Madame Jules to whom I have the + advantage of speaking, I’ve come to tell her all I have in my heart + against her. It is very wrong, when a woman is set up and in her + furniture, as you are here, to come and take from a poor girl a man with + whom I’m as good as married, morally, and who did talk of making it right + by marrying me before the municipality. There’s plenty of handsome young + men in the world—ain’t there, monsieur?—to take your fancy, + without going after a man of middle age, who makes my happiness. Yah! I + haven’t got a fine hotel like this, but I’ve got my love, I have. I hate + handsome men and money; I’m all heart, and—” + </p> + <p> + Madame Jules turned to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “You will allow me, monsieur, to hear no more of all this,” she said, + retreating to her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “If the lady lives with you, I’ve made a mess of it; but I can’t help + that,” resumed Ida. “Why does she come after Monsieur Ferragus every day?” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, mademoiselle,” said Jules, stupefied; “my wife is + incapable—” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! so you’re married, you two,” said the grisette showing some surprise. + “Then it’s very wrong, monsieur,—isn’t it?—for a woman who has + the happiness of being married in legal marriage to have relations with a + man like Henri—” + </p> + <p> + “Henri! who is Henri?” said Jules, taking Ida by the arm and pulling her + into an adjoining room that his wife might hear no more. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Monsieur Ferragus.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is dead,” said Jules. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense; I went to Franconi’s with him last night, and he brought me + home—as he ought. Besides, your wife can tell you about him; didn’t + she go there this very afternoon at three o’clock? I know she did, for I + waited in the street, and saw her,—all because that good-natured + fellow, Monsieur Justin, whom you know perhaps,—a little old man + with jewelry who wears corsets,—told me that Madame Jules was my + rival. That name, monsieur, sounds mighty like a feigned one; but if it is + yours, excuse me. But this I say, if Madame Jules was a court duchess, + Henri is rich enough to satisfy all her fancies, and it is my business to + protect my property; I’ve a right to, for I love him, that I do. He is my + <i>first</i> inclination; my happiness and all my future fate depends on + it. I fear nothing, monsieur; I am honest; I never lied, or stole the + property of any living soul, no matter who. If an empress was my rival, + I’d go straight to her, empress as she was; because all pretty women are + equals, monsieur—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! enough!” said Jules. “Where do you live?” + </p> + <p> + “Rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14, monsieur,—Ida Gruget, + corset-maker, at your service,—for we make lots of corsets for men.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does the man whom you call Ferragus live?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, pursing up her lips, “in the first place, he’s not a + man; he is a rich monsieur, much richer, perhaps, than you are. But why do + you ask me his address when your wife knows it? He told me not to give it. + Am I obliged to answer you? I’m not, thank God, in a confessional or a + police-court; I’m responsible only to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were to offer you ten thousand francs to tell me where Monsieur + Ferragus lives, how then?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! n, o, <i>no</i>, my little friend, and that ends the matter,” she + said, emphasizing this singular reply with a popular gesture. “There’s no + sum in the world could make me tell you. I have the honor to bid you + good-day. How do I get out of here?” + </p> + <p> + Jules, horror-struck, allowed her to go without further notice. The whole + world seemed to crumble beneath his feet, and above him the heavens were + falling with a crash. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is served,” said his valet. + </p> + <p> + The valet and the footman waited in the dining-room a quarter of an hour + without seeing master or mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Madame will not dine to-day,” said the waiting-maid, coming in. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter, Josephine?” asked the valet. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she answered. “Madame is crying, and is going to bed. + Monsieur has no doubt got some love-affair on hand, and it has been + discovered at a very bad time. I wouldn’t answer for madame’s life. Men + are so clumsy; they’ll make you scenes without any precaution.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not so,” said the valet, in a low voice. “On the contrary, madame + is the one who—you understand? What times does monsieur have to go + after pleasures, he, who hasn’t slept out of madame’s room for five years, + who goes to his study at ten and never leaves it till breakfast, at + twelve. His life is all known, it is regular; whereas madame goes out + nearly every day at three o’clock, Heaven knows where.” + </p> + <p> + “And monsieur too,” said the maid, taking her mistress’s part. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he goes straight to the Bourse. I told him three times that + dinner was ready,” continued the valet, after a pause. “You might as well + talk to a post.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Jules entered the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Where is madame?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Madame is going to bed; her head aches,” replied the maid, assuming an + air of importance. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Jules then said to the footmen composedly: “You can take away; I + shall go and sit with madame.” + </p> + <p> + He went to his wife’s room and found her weeping, but endeavoring to + smother her sobs with her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you weep?” said Jules; “you need expect no violence and no + reproaches from me. Why should I avenge myself? If you have not been + faithful to my love, it is that you were never worthy of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not worthy?” The words were repeated amid her sobs and the accent in + which they were said would have moved any other man than Jules. + </p> + <p> + “To kill you, I must love more than perhaps I do love you,” he continued. + “But I should never have the courage; I would rather kill myself, leaving + you to your—happiness, and with—whom!—” + </p> + <p> + He did not end his sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Kill yourself!” she cried, flinging herself at his feet and clasping + them. + </p> + <p> + But he, wishing to escape the embrace, tried to shake her off, dragging + her in so doing toward the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Let me alone,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Jules!” she cried. “If you love me no longer I shall die. Do you + wish to know all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + He took her, grasped her violently, and sat down on the edge of the bed, + holding her between his legs. Then, looking at that beautiful face now red + as fire and furrowed with tears,— + </p> + <p> + “Speak,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Her sobs began again. + </p> + <p> + “No; it is a secret of life and death. If I tell it, I—No, I cannot. + Have mercy, Jules!” + </p> + <p> + “You have betrayed me—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Jules, you think so now, but soon you will know all.” + </p> + <p> + “But this Ferragus, this convict whom you go to see, a man enriched by + crime, if he does not belong to you, if you do not belong to him—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jules!” + </p> + <p> + “Speak! Is he your mysterious benefactor?—the man to whom we owe our + fortune, as persons have said already?” + </p> + <p> + “Who said that?” + </p> + <p> + “A man whom I killed in a duel.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God! one death already!” + </p> + <p> + “If he is not your protector, if he does not give you money, if it is you, + on the contrary, who carry money to him, tell me, is he your brother?” + </p> + <p> + “What if he were?” she said. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Desmarets crossed his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Why should that have been concealed from me?” he said. “Then you and your + mother have both deceived me? Besides, does a woman go to see her brother + every day, or nearly every day?” + </p> + <p> + His wife had fainted at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Dead,” he said. “And suppose I am mistaken?” + </p> + <p> + He sprang to the bell-rope; called Josephine, and lifted Clemence to the + bed. + </p> + <p> + “I shall die of this,” said Madame Jules, recovering consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “Josephine,” cried Monsieur Desmarets. “Send for Monsieur Desplein; send + also to my brother and ask him to come here immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Why your brother?” asked Clemence. + </p> + <p> + But Jules had already left the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. WHERE GO TO DIE? + </h2> + <p> + For the first time in five years Madame Jules slept alone in her bed, and + was compelled to admit a physician into that sacred chamber. These in + themselves were two keen pangs. Desplein found Madame Jules very ill. + Never was a violent emotion more untimely. He would say nothing definite, + and postponed till the morrow giving any opinion, after leaving a few + directions, which were not executed, the emotions of the heart causing all + bodily cares to be forgotten. + </p> + <p> + When morning dawned, Clemence had not yet slept. Her mind was absorbed in + the low murmur of a conversation which lasted several hours between the + brothers; but the thickness of the walls allowed no word which could + betray the object of this long conference to reach her ears. Monsieur + Desmarets, the notary, went away at last. The stillness of the night, and + the singular activity of the senses given by powerful emotion, enabled + Clemence to distinguish the scratching of a pen and the involuntary + movements of a person engaged in writing. Those who are habitually up at + night, and who observe the different acoustic effects produced in absolute + silence, know that a slight echo can be readily perceived in the very + places where louder but more equable and continued murmurs are not + distinct. At four o’clock the sound ceased. Clemence rose, anxious and + trembling. Then, with bare feet and without a wrapper, forgetting her + illness and her moist condition, the poor woman opened the door softly + without noise and looked into the next room. She saw her husband sitting, + with a pen in his hand, asleep in his arm-chair. The candles had burned to + the sockets. She slowly advanced and read on an envelope, already sealed, + the words, “This is my will.” + </p> + <p> + She knelt down as if before an open grave and kissed her husband’s hand. + He woke instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Jules, my friend, they grant some days to criminals condemned to death,” + she said, looking at him with eyes that blazed with fever and with love. + “Your innocent wife asks only two. Leave me free for two days, and—wait! + After that, I shall die happy—at least, you will regret me.” + </p> + <p> + “Clemence, I grant them.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as she kissed her husband’s hands in the tender transport of her + heart, Jules, under the spell of that cry of innocence, took her in his + arms and kissed her forehead, though ashamed to feel himself still under + subjection to the power of that noble beauty. + </p> + <p> + On the morrow, after taking a few hours’ rest, Jules entered his wife’s + room, obeying mechanically his invariable custom of not leaving the house + without a word to her. Clemence was sleeping. A ray of light passing + through a chink in the upper blind of a window fell across the face of the + dejected woman. Already suffering had impaired her forehead and the + freshness of her lips. A lover’s eye could not fail to notice the + appearance of dark blotches, and a sickly pallor in place of the uniform + tone of the cheeks and the pure ivory whiteness of the skin,—two + points at which the sentiments of her noble soul were artlessly wont to + show themselves. + </p> + <p> + “She suffers,” thought Jules. “Poor Clemence! May God protect us!” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her very softly on the forehead. She woke, saw her husband, and + remembered all. Unable to speak, she took his hand, her eyes filling with + tears. + </p> + <p> + “I am innocent,” she said, ending her dream. + </p> + <p> + “You will not go out to-day, will you?” asked Jules. + </p> + <p> + “No, I feel too weak to leave my bed.” + </p> + <p> + “If you should change your mind, wait till I return,” said Jules. + </p> + <p> + Then he went down to the porter’s lodge. + </p> + <p> + “Fouguereau, you will watch the door yourself to-day. I wish to know + exactly who comes to the house, and who leaves it.” + </p> + <p> + Then he threw himself into a hackney-coach, and was driven to the hotel de + Maulincour, where he asked for the baron. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is ill,” they told him. + </p> + <p> + Jules insisted on entering, and gave his name. If he could not see the + baron, he wished to see the vidame or the dowager. He waited some time in + the salon, where Madame de Maulincour finally came to him and told him + that her grandson was much too ill to receive him. + </p> + <p> + “I know, madame, the nature of his illness from the letter you did me the + honor to write, and I beg you to believe—” + </p> + <p> + “A letter to you, monsieur, written by me!” cried the dowager, + interrupting him. “I have written you no letter. What was I made to say in + that letter, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” replied Jules, “intending to see Monsieur de Maulincour to-day, + I thought it best to preserve the letter in spite of its injunction to + destroy it. There it is.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Maulincour put on her spectacles, and the moment she cast her + eyes on the paper she showed the utmost surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, “my writing is so perfectly imitated that, if the + matter were not so recent, I might be deceived myself. My grandson is ill, + it is true; but his reason has never for a moment been affected. We are + the puppets of some evil-minded person or persons; and yet I cannot + imagine the object of a trick like this. You shall see my grandson, + monsieur, and you will at once perceive that he is perfectly sound in + mind.” + </p> + <p> + She rang the bell, and sent to ask if the baron felt able to receive + Monsieur Desmarets. The servant returned with an affirmative answer. Jules + went to the baron’s room, where he found him in an arm-chair near the + fire. Too feeble to move, the unfortunate man merely bowed his head with a + melancholy gesture. The Vidame de Pamiers was sitting with him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le baron,” said Jules, “I have something to say which makes it + desirable that I should see you alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” replied Auguste, “Monsieur le vidame knows about this affair; + you can speak fearlessly before him.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le baron,” said Jules, in a grave voice, “you have troubled and + well-nigh destroyed my happiness without having any right to do so. Until + the moment when we can see clearly which of us should demand, or grant, + reparation to the other, you are bound to help me in following the dark + and mysterious path into which you have flung me. I have now come to + ascertain from you the present residence of the extraordinary being who + exercises such a baneful effect on your life and mine. On my return home + yesterday, after listening to your avowals, I received that letter.” + </p> + <p> + Jules gave him the forged letter. + </p> + <p> + “This Ferragus, this Bourignard, or this Monsieur de Funcal, is a demon!” + cried Maulincour, after having read it. “Oh, what a frightful maze I put + my foot into when I meddled in this matter! Where am I going? I did wrong, + monsieur,” he continued, looking at Jules; “but death is the greatest of + all expiations, and my death is now approaching. You can ask me whatever + you like; I am at your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, you know, of course, where this man is living, and I must know + it if it costs me all my fortune to penetrate this mystery. In presence of + so cruel an enemy every moment is precious.” + </p> + <p> + “Justin shall tell you all,” replied the baron. + </p> + <p> + At these words the vidame fidgeted on his chair. Auguste rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Justin is not in the house!” cried the vidame, in a hasty manner that + told much. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Auguste, excitedly, “the other servants must know where + he is; send a man on horseback to fetch him. Your valet is in Paris, isn’t + he? He can be found.” + </p> + <p> + The vidame was visibly distressed. + </p> + <p> + “Justin can’t come, my dear boy,” said the old man; “he is dead. I wanted + to conceal the accident from you, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” cried Monsieur de Maulincour,—“dead! When and how?” + </p> + <p> + “Last night. He had been supping with some old friends, and, I dare say, + was drunk; his friends—no doubt they were drunk, too—left him + lying in the street, and a heavy vehicle ran over him.” + </p> + <p> + “The convict did not miss <i>him</i>; at the first stroke he killed,” said + Auguste. “He has had less luck with me; it has taken four blows to put me + out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + Jules was gloomy and thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to know nothing, then?” he cried, after a long pause. “Your valet + seems to have been justly punished. Did he not exceed your orders in + calumniating Madame Desmarets to a person named Ida, whose jealousy he + roused in order to turn her vindictiveness upon us?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur! in my anger I informed him about Madame Jules,” said + Auguste. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” cried the husband, keenly irritated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur!” replied the baron, claiming silence by a gesture, “I am + prepared for all. You cannot tell me anything my own conscience has not + already told me. I am now expecting the most celebrated of all professors + of toxicology, in order to learn my fate. If I am destined to intolerable + suffering, my resolution is taken. I shall blow my brains out.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk like a child!” cried the vidame, horrified by the coolness with + which the baron said these words. “Your grandmother would die of grief.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, monsieur,” said Jules, “am I to understand that there exist no + means of discovering in what part of Paris this extraordinary man + resides?” + </p> + <p> + “I think, monsieur,” said the old vidame, “from what I have heard poor + Justin say, that Monsieur de Funcal lives at either the Portuguese or the + Brazilian embassy. Monsieur de Funcal is a nobleman belonging to both + those countries. As for the convict, he is dead and buried. Your + persecutor, whoever he is, seems to me so powerful that it would be well + to take no decisive measures until you are sure of some way of confounding + and crushing him. Act prudently and with caution, my dear monsieur. Had + Monsieur de Maulincour followed my advice, nothing of all this would have + happened.” + </p> + <p> + Jules coldly but politely withdrew. He was now at a total loss to know how + to reach Ferragus. As he passed into his own house, the porter told him + that Madame had just been out to throw a letter into the post box at the + head of the rue de Menars. Jules felt humiliated by this proof of the + insight with which the porter espoused his cause, and the cleverness by + which he guessed the way to serve him. The eagerness of servants, and + their shrewdness in compromising masters who compromised themselves, was + known to him, and he fully appreciated the danger of having them as + accomplices, no matter for what purpose. But he could not think of his + personal dignity until the moment when he found himself thus suddenly + degraded. What a triumph for the slave who could not raise himself to his + master, to compel his master to come down to his level! Jules was harsh + and hard to him. Another fault. But he suffered so deeply! His life till + then so upright, so pure, was becoming crafty; he was to scheme and lie. + Clemence was scheming and lying. This to him was a moment of horrible + disgust. Lost in a flood of bitter feelings, Jules stood motionless at the + door of his house. Yielding to despair, he thought of fleeing, of leaving + France forever, carrying with him the illusions of uncertainty. Then, + again, not doubting that the letter Clemence had just posted was addressed + to Ferragus, his mind searched for a means of obtaining the answer that + mysterious being was certain to send. Then his thoughts began to analyze + the singular good fortune of his life since his marriage, and he asked + himself whether the calumny for which he had taken such signal vengeance + was not a truth. Finally, reverting to the coming answer, he said to + himself:— + </p> + <p> + “But this man, so profoundly capable, so logical in his every act, who + sees and foresees, who calculates, and even divines, our very thoughts, is + he likely to make an answer? Will he not employ some other means more in + keeping with his power? He may send his answer by some beggar; or in a + carton brought by an honest man, who does not suspect what he brings; or + in some parcel of shoes, which a shop-girl may innocently deliver to my + wife. If Clemence and he have agreed upon such means—” + </p> + <p> + He distrusted all things; his mind ran over vast tracts and shoreless + oceans of conjecture. Then, after floating for a time among a thousand + contradictory ideas, he felt he was strongest in his own house, and he + resolved to watch it as the ant-lion watches his sandy labyrinth. + </p> + <p> + “Fouguereau,” he said to the porter, “I am not at home to any one who + comes to see me. If any one calls to see madame, or brings her anything, + ring twice. Bring all letters addressed here to me, no matter for whom + they are intended.” + </p> + <p> + “Thus,” thought he, as he entered his study, which was in the entresol, “I + forestall the schemes of this Ferragus. If he sends some one to ask for me + so as to find out if Clemence is alone, at least I shall not be tricked + like a fool.” + </p> + <p> + He stood by the window of his study, which looked upon the street, and + then a final scheme, inspired by jealousy, came into his mind. He resolved + to send his head-clerk in his own carriage to the Bourse with a letter to + another broker, explaining his sales and purchases and requesting him to + do his business for that day. He postponed his more delicate transactions + till the morrow, indifferent to the fall or rise of stocks or the debts of + all Europe. High privilege of love!—it crushes all things, all + interests fall before it: altar, throne, consols! + </p> + <p> + At half-past three, just the hour at which the Bourse is in full blast of + reports, monthly settlements, premiums, etc., Fouguereau entered the + study, quite radiant with his news. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, an old woman has come, but very cautiously; I think she’s a sly + one. She asked for monsieur, and seemed much annoyed when I told her he + was out; then she gave me a letter for madame, and here it is.” + </p> + <p> + Fevered with anxiety, Jules opened the letter; then he dropped into a + chair, exhausted. The letter was mere nonsense throughout, and needed a + key. It was virtually in cipher. + </p> + <p> + “Go away, Fouguereau.” The porter left him. “It is a mystery deeper than + the sea below the plummet line! Ah! it must be love; love only is so + sagacious, so inventive as this. Ah! I shall kill her.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment an idea flashed through his brain with such force that he + felt almost physically illuminated by it. In the days of his toilsome + poverty before his marriage, Jules had made for himself a true friend. The + extreme delicacy with which he had managed the susceptibilities of a man + both poor and modest; the respect with which he had surrounded him; the + ingenious cleverness he had employed to nobly compel him to share his + opulence without permitting it to make him blush, increased their + friendship. Jacquet continued faithful to Desmarets in spite of his + wealth. + </p> + <p> + Jacquet, a nobly upright man, a toiler, austere in his morals, had slowly + made his way in that particular ministry which develops both honesty and + knavery at the same time. A clerk in the ministry of Foreign Affairs, he + had charge of the most delicate division of its archives. Jacquet in that + office was like a glow-worm, casting his light upon those secret + correspondences, deciphering and classifying despatches. Ranking higher + than a mere <i>bourgeois</i>, his position at the ministry was superior to + that of the other subalterns. He lived obscurely, glad to feel that such + obscurity sheltered him from reverses and disappointments, and was + satisfied to humbly pay in the lowest coin his debt to the country. Thanks + to Jules, his position had been much ameliorated by a worthy marriage. An + unrecognized patriot, a minister in actual fact, he contented himself with + groaning in his chimney-corner at the course of the government. In his own + home, Jacquet was an easy-going king,—an umbrella-man, as they say, + who hired a carriage for his wife which he never entered himself. In + short, to end this sketch of a philosopher unknown to himself, he had + never suspected and never in all his life would suspect the advantages he + might have drawn from his position,—that of having for his intimate + friend a broker, and of knowing every morning all the secrets of the + State. This man, sublime after the manner of that nameless soldier who + died in saving Napoleon by a “qui vive,” lived at the ministry. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes Jules was in his friend’s office. Jacquet gave him a chair, + laid aside methodically his green silk eye-shade, rubbed his hands, picked + up his snuff-box, rose, stretched himself till his shoulder-blades + cracked, swelled out his chest, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret,—a secret of life and + death.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t concern politics?” + </p> + <p> + “If it did, I shouldn’t come to you for information,” said Jules. “No, it + is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely silent.” + </p> + <p> + “Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession. Don’t you know me by this + time?” he said, laughing. “Discretion is my lot.” + </p> + <p> + Jules showed him the letter. + </p> + <p> + “You must read me this letter, addressed to my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! the deuce! a bad business!” said Jacquet, examining the letter + as a usurer examines a note to be negotiated. “Ha! that’s a gridiron + letter! Wait a minute.” + </p> + <p> + He left Jules alone for a moment, but returned immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Easy enough to read, my friend! It is written on the gridiron plan, used + by the Portuguese minister under Monsieur de Choiseul, at the time of the + dismissal of the Jesuits. Here, see!” + </p> + <p> + Jacquet placed upon the writing a piece of paper cut out in regular + squares, like the paper laces which confectioners wrap round their + sugarplums; and Jules then read with perfect ease the words that were + visible in the interstices. They were as follows:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Don’t be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be + troubled; and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions. + However ill you may be, you must have the courage to come here + to-morrow; find strength in your love for me. Mine for you has + induced me to submit to a cruel operation, and I cannot leave my + bed. I have had the actual cautery applied to my back, and it was + necessary to burn it in a long time; you understand me? But I + thought of you, and I did not suffer. + + “To baffle Maulincour (who will not persecute us much longer), I + have left the protecting roof of the embassy, and am now safe from + all inquiry in the rue des Enfants-Rouges, number 12, with an old + woman, Madame Etienne Gruget, mother of that Ida, who shall pay + dear for her folly. Come to-morrow, at nine in the morning. I am + in a room which is reached only by an interior staircase. Ask for + Monsieur Camuset. Adieu; I kiss your forehead, my darling.” + </pre> + <p> + Jacquet looked at Jules with a sort of honest terror, the sign of a true + compassion, as he made his favorite exclamation in two separate and + distinct tones,— + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! the deuce!” + </p> + <p> + “That seems clear to you, doesn’t it?” said Jules. “Well, in the depths of + my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes itself heard + above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of all agony until + to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall know all; I shall + be happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me then, Jacquet.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o’clock. We will go together; + I’ll wait for you, if you like, in the street. You may run some danger, + and you ought to have near you some devoted person who’ll understand a + mere sign, and whom you can safely trust. Count on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Even to help me in killing some one?” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! the deuce!” said Jacquet, repeating, as it were, the same + musical note. “I have two children and a wife.” + </p> + <p> + Jules pressed his friend’s hand and went away; but returned immediately. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot the letter,” he said. “But that’s not all, I must reseal it.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! the deuce! you opened it without saving the seal; however, it + is still possible to restore it. Leave it with me and I’ll bring it to you + <i>secundum scripturam</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time?” + </p> + <p> + “Half-past five.” + </p> + <p> + “If I am not yet in, give it to the porter and tell him to send it up to + madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Adieu.” + </p> + <p> + Jules drove at once to the place de la Rotonde du Temple, where he left + his cabriolet and went on foot to the rue des Enfants-Rouges. He found the + house of Madame Etienne Gruget and examined it. There, the mystery on + which depended the fate of so many persons would be cleared up; there, at + this moment, was Ferragus, and to Ferragus all the threads of this strange + plot led. The Gordian knot of the drama, already so bloody, was surely in + a meeting between Madame Jules, her husband, and that man; and a blade + able to cut the closest of such knots would not be wanting. + </p> + <p> + The house was one of those which belong to the class called <i>cabajoutis</i>. + This significant name is given by the populace of Paris to houses which + are built, as it were, piecemeal. They are nearly always composed of + buildings originally separate but afterwards united according to the fancy + of the various proprietors who successively enlarge them; or else they are + houses begun, left unfinished, again built upon, and completed,—unfortunate + structures which have passed, like certain peoples, under many dynasties + of capricious masters. Neither the floors nor the windows have an <i>ensemble</i>,—to + borrow one of the most picturesque terms of the art of painting; all is + discord, even the external decoration. The <i>cabajoutis</i> is to + Parisian architecture what the <i>capharnaum</i> is to the apartment,—a + poke-hole, where the most heterogeneous articles are flung pell-mell. + </p> + <p> + “Madame Etienne?” asked Jules of the portress. + </p> + <p> + This portress had her lodge under the main entrance, in a sort of chicken + coop, or wooden house on rollers, not unlike those sentry-boxes which the + police have lately set up by the stands of hackney-coaches. + </p> + <p> + “Hein?” said the portress, without laying down the stocking she was + knitting. + </p> + <p> + In Paris the various component parts which make up the physiognomy of any + given portion of the monstrous city, are admirably in keeping with its + general character. Thus porter, concierge, or Suisse, whatever name may be + given to that essential muscle of the Parisian monster, is always in + conformity with the neighborhood of which he is a part; in fact, he is + often an epitome of it. The lazy porter of the faubourg Saint-Germain, + with lace on every seam of his coat, dabbles in stocks; he of the Chaussee + d’Antin takes his ease, reads the money-articles in the newspapers, and + has a business of his own in the faubourg Montmartre. The portress in the + quarter of prostitution was formerly a prostitute; in the Marais, she has + morals, is cross-grained, and full of crotchets. + </p> + <p> + On seeing Monsieur Jules this particular portress, holding her knitting in + one hand, took a knife and stirred the half-extinguished peat in her + foot-warmer; then she said:— + </p> + <p> + “You want Madame Etienne; do you mean Madame Etienne Gruget?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jules, assuming a vexed air. + </p> + <p> + “Who makes trimmings?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, monsieur,” she said, issuing from her cage, and laying her + hand on Jules’ arm and leading him to the end of a long passage-way, + vaulted like a cellar, “go up the second staircase at the end of the + court-yard—where you will see the windows with the pots of pinks; + that’s where Madame Etienne lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, madame. Do you think she is alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t she be alone? she’s a widow.” + </p> + <p> + Jules hastened up a dark stairway, the steps of which were knobby with + hardened mud left by the feet of those who came and went. On the second + floor he saw three doors but no signs of pinks. Fortunately, on one of the + doors, the oiliest and darkest of the three, he read these words, chalked + on a panel: “Ida will come to-night at nine o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the place,” thought Jules. + </p> + <p> + He pulled an old bellrope, black with age, and heard the smothered sound + of a cracked bell and the barking of an asthmatic little dog. By the way + the sounds echoed from the interior he knew that the rooms were encumbered + with articles which left no space for reverberation,—a + characteristic feature of the homes of workmen and humble households, + where space and air are always lacking. + </p> + <p> + Jules looked out mechanically for the pinks, and found them on the outer + sill of a sash window between two filthy drain-pipes. So here were + flowers; here, a garden, two yards long and six inches wide; here, a + wheat-ear; here, a whole life epitomized; but here, too, all the miseries + of that life. A ray of light falling from heaven as if by special favor on + those puny flowers and the vigorous wheat-ear brought out in full relief + the dust, the grease, and that nameless color, peculiar to Parisian + squalor, made of dirt, which crusted and spotted the damp walls, the + worm-eaten balusters, the disjointed window-casings, and the door + originally red. Presently the cough of an old woman, and a heavy female + step, shuffling painfully in list slippers, announced the coming of the + mother of Ida Gruget. The creature opened the door and came out upon the + landing, looked up, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! is this Monsieur Bocquillon? Why, no? But perhaps you’re his brother. + What can I do for you? Come in, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Jules followed her into the first room, where he saw, huddled together, + cages, household utensils, ovens, furniture, little earthenware dishes + full of food or water for the dog and the cats, a wooden clock, + bed-quilts, engravings of Eisen, heaps of old iron, all these things + mingled and massed together in a way that produced a most grotesque + effect,—a true Parisian dusthole, in which were not lacking a few + old numbers of the “Constitutionel.” + </p> + <p> + Jules, impelled by a sense of prudence, paid no attention to the widow’s + invitation when she said civilly, showing him an inner room:— + </p> + <p> + “Come in here, monsieur, and warm yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Fearing to be overheard by Ferragus, Jules asked himself whether it were + not wisest to conclude the arrangement he had come to make with the old + woman in the crowded antechamber. A hen, which descended cackling from a + loft, roused him from this inward meditation. He came to a resolution, and + followed Ida’s mother into the inner room, whither they were accompanied + by the wheezy pug, a personage otherwise mute, who jumped upon a stool. + Madame Gruget showed the assumption of semi-pauperism when she invited her + visitor to warm himself. Her fire-pot contained, or rather concealed two + bits of sticks, which lay apart: the grating was on the ground, its handle + in the ashes. The mantel-shelf, adorned with a little wax Jesus under a + shade of squares of glass held together with blue paper, was piled with + wools, bobbins, and tools used in the making of gimps and trimmings. Jules + examined everything in the room with a curiosity that was full of + interest, and showed, in spite of himself, an inward satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Well, monsieur, tell me, do you want to buy any of my things?” said the + old woman, seating herself in a cane arm-chair, which appeared to be her + headquarters. In it she kept her handkerchief, snuffbox, knitting, + half-peeled vegetables, spectacles, calendar, a bit of livery gold lace + just begun, a greasy pack of cards, and two volumes of novels, all stuck + into the hollow of the back. This article of furniture, in which the old + creature was floating down the river of life, was not unlike the + encyclopedic bag which a woman carries with her when she travels; in which + may be found a compendium of her household belongings, from the portrait + of her husband to <i>eau de Melisse</i> for faintness, sugarplums for the + children, and English court-plaster in case of cuts. + </p> + <p> + Jules studied all. He looked attentively at Madame Gruget’s yellow visage, + at her gray eyes without either brows or lashes, her toothless mouth, her + wrinkles marked in black, her rusty cap, her still more rusty ruffles, her + cotton petticoat full of holes, her worn-out slippers, her disabled + fire-pot, her table heaped with dishes and silks and work begun or + finished, in wool or cotton, in the midst of which stood a bottle of wine. + Then he said to himself: “This old woman has some passion, some strong + liking or vice; I can make her do my will.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said aloud, with a private sign of intelligence, “I have come + to order some livery trimmings.” Then he lowered his voice. “I know,” he + continued, “that you have a lodger who has taken the name of Camuset.” The + old woman looked at him suddenly, but without any sign of astonishment. + “Now, tell me, can we come to an understanding? This is a question which + means fortune for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she replied, “speak out, and don’t be afraid. There’s no one + here. But if I had any one above, it would be impossible for him to hear + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! the sly old creature, she answers like a Norman,” thought Jules, “We + shall agree. Do not give yourself the trouble to tell falsehoods, madame,” + he resumed, “In the first place, let me tell you that I mean no harm + either to you or to your lodger who is suffering from cautery, or to your + daughter Ida, a stay-maker, the friend of Ferragus. You see, I know all + your affairs. Do not be uneasy; I am not a detective policeman, nor do I + desire anything that can hurt your conscience. A young lady will come here + to-morrow-morning at half-past nine o’clock, to talk with this lover of + your daughter. I want to be where I can see all and hear all, without + being seen or heard by them. If you will furnish me with the means of + doing so, I will reward that service with the gift of two thousand francs + and a yearly stipend of six hundred. My notary shall prepare a deed before + you this evening, and I will give him the money to hold; he will pay the + two thousand to you to-morrow after the conference at which I desire to be + present, as you will then have given proofs of your good faith.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it injure my daughter, my good monsieur?” she asked, casting a + cat-like glance of doubt and uneasiness upon him. + </p> + <p> + “In no way, madame. But, in any case, it seems to me that your daughter + does not treat you well. A girl who is loved by so rich a man as Ferragus + ought to make you more comfortable than you seem to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear monsieur, just think, not so much as one poor ticket to the + Ambigu, or the Gaiete, where she can go as much as she likes. It’s + shameful! A girl for whom I sold my silver forks and spoons! and now I + eat, at my age, with German metal,—and all to pay for her + apprenticeship, and give her a trade, where she could coin money if she + chose. As for that, she’s like me, clever as a witch; I must do her that + justice. But, I will say, she might give me her old silk gowns,—I, + who am so fond of wearing silk. But no! Monsieur, she dines at the + Cadran-Bleu at fifty francs a head, and rolls in her carriage as if she + were a princess, and despises her mother for a Colin-Lampon. Heavens and + earth! what heedless young ones we’ve brought into the world; we have + nothing to boast of there. A mother, monsieur, can’t be anything else but + a good mother; and I’ve concealed that girl’s ways, and kept her in my + bosom, to take the bread out of my mouth and cram everything into her own. + Well, well! and now she comes and fondles one a little, and says, ‘How + d’ye do, mother?’ And that’s all the duty she thinks of paying. But she’ll + have children one of these days, and then she’ll find out what it is to + have such baggage,—which one can’t help loving all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that she does nothing for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, nothing? No, monsieur, I didn’t say that; if she did nothing, that + would be a little too much. She gives me my rent and thirty-six francs a + month. But, monsieur, at my age,—and I’m fifty-two years old, with + eyes that feel the strain at night,—ought I to be working in this + way? Besides, why won’t she have me to live with her? I should shame her, + should I? Then let her say so. Faith, one ought to be buried out of the + way of such dogs of children, who forget you before they’ve even shut the + door.” + </p> + <p> + She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, and with it a lottery ticket + that dropped on the floor; but she hastily picked it up, saying, “Hi! + that’s the receipt for my taxes.” + </p> + <p> + Jules at once perceived the reason of the sagacious parsimony of which the + mother complained; and he was the more certain that the widow Gruget would + agree to the proposed bargain. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, madame,” he said, “accept what I offer you.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you say two thousand francs in ready money, and six hundred annuity, + monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I’ve changed my mind; I will promise you only three hundred + annuity. This way seems more to my own interests. But I will give you five + thousand francs in ready money. Wouldn’t you like that as well?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, yes, monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll get more comfort out of it; and you can go to the Ambigu and + Franconi’s at your ease in a coach.” + </p> + <p> + “As for Franconi, I don’t like that, for they don’t talk there. Monsieur, + if I accept, it is because it will be very advantageous for my child. I + sha’n’t be a drag on her any longer. Poor little thing! I’m glad she has + her pleasures, after all. Ah, monsieur, youth must be amused! And so, if + you assure me that no harm will come to anybody—” + </p> + <p> + “Not to anybody,” replied Jules. “But now, how will you manage it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, monsieur, if I give Monsieur Ferragus a little tea made of + poppy-heads to-night, he’ll sleep sound, the dear man; and he needs it, + too, because of his sufferings, for he does suffer, I can tell you, and + more’s the pity. But I’d like to know what a healthy man like him wants to + burn his back for, just to get rid of a tic douleureux which troubles him + once in two years. However, to come back to our business. I have my + neighbor’s key; her lodging is just above mine, and in it there’s a room + adjoining the one where Monsieur Ferragus is, with only a partition + between them. My neighbor is away in the country for ten days. Therefore, + if I make a hole to-night while Monsieur Ferragus is sound asleep, you can + see and hear them to-morrow at your ease. I’m on good terms with a + locksmith,—a very friendly man, who talks like an angel, and he’ll + do the work for me and say nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then here’s a hundred francs for him. Come to-night to Monsieur + Desmaret’s office; he’s a notary, and here’s his address. At nine o’clock + the deed will be ready, but—silence!” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, monsieur; as you say—silence! Au revoir, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Jules went home, almost calmed by the certainty that he should know the + truth on the morrow. As he entered the house, the porter gave him the + letter properly resealed. + </p> + <p> + “How do you feel now?” he said to his wife, in spite of the coldness that + separated them. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, Jules,” she answered in a coaxing voice, “do come and dine + beside me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” he said, giving her the letter. “Here is something Fouguereau + gave me for you.” + </p> + <p> + Clemence, who was very pale, colored high when she saw the letter, and + that sudden redness was a fresh blow to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Is that joy,” he said, laughing, “or the effect of expectation?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of many things!” she said, examining the seal. + </p> + <p> + “I leave you now for a few moments.” + </p> + <p> + He went down to his study, and wrote to his brother, giving him directions + about the payment to the widow Gruget. When he returned, he found his + dinner served on a little table by his wife’s bedside, and Josephine ready + to wait on him. + </p> + <p> + “If I were up how I should like to serve you myself,” said Clemence, when + Josephine had left them. “Oh, yes, on my knees!” she added, passing her + white hands through her husband’s hair. “Dear, noble heart, you were very + kind and gracious to me just now. You did me more good by showing me such + confidence than all the doctors on earth could do me with their + prescriptions. That feminine delicacy of yours—for you do know how + to love like a woman—well, it has shed a balm into my heart which + has almost cured me. There’s truce between us, Jules; lower your head, + that I may kiss it.” + </p> + <p> + Jules could not deny himself the pleasure of that embrace. But it was not + without a feeling of remorse in his heart; he felt himself small before + this woman whom he was still tempted to think innocent. A sort of + melancholy joy possessed him. A tender hope shone on her features in spite + of their grieved expression. They both were equally unhappy in deceiving + each other; another caress, and, unable to resist their suffering, all + would then have been avowed. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow evening, Clemence.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; to-morrow morning, by twelve o’clock, you will know all, and + you’ll kneel down before your wife—Oh, no! you shall not be + humiliated; you are all forgiven now; you have done no wrong. Listen, + Jules; yesterday you did crush me—harshly; but perhaps my life would + not have been complete without that agony; it may be a shadow that will + make our coming days celestial.” + </p> + <p> + “You lay a spell upon me,” cried Jules; “you fill me with remorse.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor love! destiny is stronger than we, and I am not the accomplice of + mine. I shall go out to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “At what hour?” asked Jules. + </p> + <p> + “At half-past nine.” + </p> + <p> + “Clemence,” he said, “take every precaution; consult Doctor Desplein and + old Haudry.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall consult nothing but my heart and my courage.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall leave you free; you will not see me till twelve o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you keep me company this evening? I feel so much better.” + </p> + <p> + After attending to some business, Jules returned to his wife,—recalled + by her invincible attraction. His passion was stronger than his anguish. + </p> + <p> + The next day, at nine o’clock Jules left home, hurried to the rue des + Enfants-Rouges, went upstairs, and rang the bell of the widow Gruget’s + lodgings. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you’ve kept your word, as true as the dawn. Come in, monsieur,” said + the old woman when she saw him. “I’ve made you a cup of coffee with + cream,” she added, when the door was closed. “Oh! real cream; I saw it + milked myself at the dairy we have in this very street.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no, madame, nothing. Take me at once—” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, monsieur. Follow me, this way.” + </p> + <p> + She led him up into the room above her own, where she showed him, + triumphantly, an opening about the size of a two-franc piece, made during + the night, in a place, which, in each room, was above a wardrobe. In order + to look through it, Jules was forced to maintain himself in rather a + fatiguing attitude, by standing on a step-ladder which the widow had been + careful to place there. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a gentleman with him,” she whispered, as she retired. + </p> + <p> + Jules then beheld a man employed in dressing a number of wounds on the + shoulders of Ferragus, whose head he recognized from the description given + to him by Monsieur de Maulincour. + </p> + <p> + “When do you think those wounds will heal?” asked Ferragus. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said the other man. “The doctors say those wounds will + require seven or eight more dressings.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, good-bye until to-night,” said Ferragus, holding out his hand + to the man, who had just replaced the bandage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to-night,” said the other, pressing his hand cordially. “I wish I + could see you past your sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow Monsieur de Funcal’s papers will be delivered to us, and Henri + Bourignard will be dead forever,” said Ferragus. “Those fatal marks which + have cost us so dear no longer exist. I shall become once more a social + being, a man among men, and more of a man than the sailor whom the fishes + are eating. God knows it is not for my own sake I have made myself a + Portuguese count!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Gratien!—you, the wisest of us all, our beloved brother, the + Benjamin of the band; as you very well know.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu; keep an eye on Maulincour.” + </p> + <p> + “You can rest easy on that score.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! stay, marquis,” cried the convict. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ida is capable of everything after the scene of last night. If she should + throw herself into the river, I would not fish her out. She knows the + secret of my name, and she’ll keep it better there. But still, look after + her; for she is, in her way, a good girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger departed. Ten minutes later Jules heard, with a feverish + shudder, the rustle of a silk gown, and almost recognized by their sound + the steps of his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Well, father,” said Clemence, “my poor father, are you better? What + courage you have shown!” + </p> + <p> + “Come here, my child,” replied Ferragus, holding out his hand to her. + </p> + <p> + Clemence held her forehead to him and he kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me, what is the matter, my little girl? What are these new + troubles?” + </p> + <p> + “Troubles, father! it concerns the life or death of the daughter you have + loved so much. Indeed you must, as I wrote you yesterday, you <i>must</i> + find a way to see my poor Jules to-day. If you knew how good he has been + to me, in spite of all suspicions apparently so legitimate. Father, my + love is my very life. Would you see me die? Ah! I have suffered so much + that my life, I feel it! is in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “And all because of the curiosity of that miserable Parisian?” cried + Ferragus. “I’d burn Paris down if I lost you, my daughter. Ha! you may + know what a lover is, but you don’t yet know what a father can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, you frighten me when you look at me in that way. Don’t weigh such + different feelings in the same scales. I had a husband before I knew that + my father was living—” + </p> + <p> + “If your husband was the first to lay kisses on your forehead, I was the + first to drop tears upon it,” replied Ferragus. “But don’t feel + frightened, Clemence, speak to me frankly. I love you enough to rejoice in + the knowledge that you are happy, though I, your father, may have little + place in your heart, while you fill the whole of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! what good such words do me! You make me love you more and more, + though I seem to rob something from my Jules. But, my kind father, think + what his sufferings are. What may I tell him to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “My child, do you think I waited for your letter to save you from this + threatened danger? Do you know what will become of those who venture to + touch your happiness, or come between us? Have you never been aware that a + second providence was guarding your life? Twelve men of power and + intellect form a phalanx round your love and your existence,—ready + to do all things to protect you. Think of your father, who has risked + death to meet you in the public promenades, or see you asleep in your + little bed in your mother’s home, during the night-time. Could such a + father, to whom your innocent caresses give strength to live when a man of + honor ought to have died to escape his infamy, could <i>I</i>, in short, I + who breathe through your lips, and see with your eyes, and feel with your + heart, could I fail to defend with the claws of a lion and the soul of a + father, my only blessing, my life, my daughter? Since the death of that + angel, your mother, I have dreamed but of one thing,—the happiness + of pressing you to my heart in the face of the whole earth, of burying the + convict,—” He paused a moment, and then added: “—of giving you + a father, a father who could press without shame your husband’s hand, who + could live without fear in both your hearts, who could say to all the + world, ‘This is my daughter,’—in short, to be a happy father.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father! father!” + </p> + <p> + “After infinite difficulty, after searching the whole globe,” continued + Ferragus, “my friends have found me the skin of a dead man in which to + take my place once more in social life. A few days hence, I shall be + Monsieur de Funcal, a Portuguese count. Ah! my dear child, there are few + men of my age who would have had the patience to learn Portuguese and + English, which were spoken fluently by that devil of a sailor, who was + drowned at sea.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear father—” + </p> + <p> + “All has been foreseen, and prepared. A few days hence, his Majesty John + VI., King of Portugal will be my accomplice. My child, you must have a + little patience where your father has had so much. But ah! what would I + not do to reward your devotion for the last three years,—coming + religiously to comfort your old father, at the risk of your own peace!” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” cried Clemence, taking his hands and kissing them. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my child, have courage still; keep my fatal secret a few days + longer, till the end is reached. Jules is not an ordinary man, I know; but + are we sure that his lofty character and his noble love may not impel him + to dislike the daughter of a—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Clemence, “you have read my heart; I have no other fear than + that. The very thought turns me to ice,” she added, in a heart-rending + tone. “But, father, think that I have promised him the truth in two + hours.” + </p> + <p> + “If so, my daughter, tell him to go to the Portuguese embassy and see the + Comte de Funcal, your father. I will be there.” + </p> + <p> + “But Monsieur de Maulincour has told him of Ferragus. Oh, father, what + torture, to deceive, deceive, deceive!” + </p> + <p> + “Need you say that to me? But only a few days more, and no living man will + be able to expose me. Besides, Monsieur de Maulincour is beyond the + faculty of remembering. Come, dry your tears, my silly child, and think—” + </p> + <p> + At this instant a terrible cry rang from the room in which Jules Desmarets + was stationed. + </p> + <p> + The clamor was heard by Madame Jules and Ferragus through the opening of + the wall, and struck them with terror. + </p> + <p> + “Go and see what it means, Clemence,” said her father. + </p> + <p> + Clemence ran rapidly down the little staircase, found the door into Madame + Gruget’s apartment wide open, heard the cries which echoed from the upper + floor, went up the stairs, guided by the noise of sobs, and caught these + words before she entered the fatal chamber:— + </p> + <p> + “You, monsieur, you, with your horrid inventions,—you are the cause + of her death!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, miserable woman!” replied Jules, putting his handkerchief on the + mouth of the old woman, who began at once to cry out, “Murder! help!” + </p> + <p> + At this instant Clemence entered, saw her husband, uttered a cry, and fled + away. + </p> + <p> + “Who will save my child?” cried the widow Gruget. “You have murdered her.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” asked Jules, mechanically, for he was horror-struck at being seen + by his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Read that,” said the old woman, giving him a letter. “Can money or + annuities console me for that?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Farewell, mother! I bequeeth you what I have. I beg your pardon + for my forlts, and the last greef to which I put you by ending my + life in the river. Henry, who I love more than myself, says I have + made his misfortune, and as he has drifen me away, and I have lost + all my hops of merrying him, I am going to droun myself. I shall + go abov Neuilly, so that they can’t put me in the Morg. If Henry + does not hate me anny more after I am ded, ask him to berry a pore + girl whose hart beet for him only, and to forgif me, for I did + rong to meddle in what didn’t consern me. Tak care of his wounds. + How much he sufered, pore fellow! I shall have as much corage to + kill myself as he had to burn his bak. Carry home the corsets I + have finished. And pray God for your daughter. +</pre> + <p> + Ida. + </p> + <p> + “Take this letter to Monsieur de Funcal, who is upstairs,” said Jules. “He + alone can save your daughter, if there is still time.” + </p> + <p> + So saying he disappeared, running like a man who has committed a crime. + His legs trembled. The hot blood poured into his swelling heart in + torrents greater than at any other moment of his life, and left it again + with untold violence. Conflicting thoughts struggled in his mind, and yet + one thought predominated,—he had not been loyal to the being he + loved most. It was impossible for him to argue with his conscience, whose + voice, rising high with conviction, came like an echo of those inward + cries of his love during the cruel hours of doubt he had lately lived + through. + </p> + <p> + He spent the greater part of the day wandering about Paris, for he dared + not go home. This man of integrity and honor feared to meet the spotless + brow of the woman he had misjudged. We estimate wrongdoing in proportion + to the purity of our conscience; the deed which is scarcely a fault in + some hearts, takes the proportions of a crime in certain unsullied souls. + The slightest stain on the white garment of a virgin makes it a thing + ignoble as the rags of a mendicant. Between the two the difference lies in + the misfortune of the one, the wrong-doing of the other. God never + measures repentance; he never apportions it. As much is needed to efface a + spot as to obliterate the crimes of a lifetime. These reflections fell + with all their weight on Jules; passions, like human laws, will not + pardon, and their reasoning is more just; for are they not based upon a + conscience of their own as infallible as an instinct? + </p> + <p> + Jules finally came home pale, despondent, crushed beneath a sense of his + wrong-doing, and yet expressing in spite of himself the joy his wife’s + innocence had given him. He entered her room all throbbing with emotion; + she was in bed with a high fever. He took her hand, kissed it, and covered + it with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Dear angel,” he said, when they were alone, “it is repentance.” + </p> + <p> + “And for what?” she answered. + </p> + <p> + As she made that reply, she laid her head back upon the pillow, closed her + eyes, and remained motionless, keeping the secret of her sufferings that + she might not frighten her husband,—the tenderness of a mother, the + delicacy of an angel! All the woman was in her answer. + </p> + <p> + The silence lasted long. Jules, thinking her asleep, went to question + Josephine as to her mistress’s condition. + </p> + <p> + “Madame came home half-dead, monsieur. We sent at once for Monsieur + Haudry.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he come? What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “He said nothing, monsieur. He did not seem satisfied; gave orders that no + one should go near madame except the nurse, and said he should come back + this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Jules returned softly to his wife’s room and sat down in a chair before + the bed. There he remained, motionless, with his eyes fixed on those of + Clemence. When she raised her eyelids she saw him, and through those lids + passed a tender glance, full of passionate love, free from reproach and + bitterness,—a look which fell like a flame of fire upon the heart of + that husband, nobly absolved and forever loved by the being whom he had + killed. The presentiment of death struck both their minds with equal + force. Their looks were blended in one anguish, as their hearts had long + been blended in one love, felt equally by both, and shared equally. No + questions were uttered; a horrible certainty was there,—in the wife + an absolute generosity; in the husband an awful remorse; then, in both + souls the same vision of the end, the same conviction of fatality. + </p> + <p> + There came a moment when, thinking his wife asleep, Jules kissed her + softly on the forehead; then after long contemplation of that cherished + face, he said:— + </p> + <p> + “Oh God! leave me this angel still a little while that I may blot out my + wrong by love and adoration. As a daughter, she is sublime; as a wife, + what word can express her?” + </p> + <p> + Clemence raised her eyes; they were full of tears. + </p> + <p> + “You pain me,” she said, in a feeble voice. + </p> + <p> + It was getting late; Doctor Haudry came, and requested the husband to + withdraw during his visit. When the doctor left the sick-room Jules asked + him no question; one gesture was enough. + </p> + <p> + “Call in consultation any physician in whom you place confidence; I may be + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, tell me the truth. I am a man, and I can bear it. Besides, I have + the deepest interest in knowing it; I have certain affairs to settle.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Jules is dying,” said the physician. “There is some moral malady + which has made great progress, and it has complicated her physical + condition, which was already dangerous, and made still more so by her + great imprudence. To walk about barefooted at night! to go out when I + forbade it! on foot yesterday in the rain, to-day in a carriage! She must + have meant to kill herself. But still, my judgment is not final; she has + youth, and a most amazing nervous strength. It may be best to risk all to + win all by employing some violent reagent. But I will not take upon myself + to order it; nor will I advise it; in consultation I shall oppose it.” + </p> + <p> + Jules returned to his wife. For eleven days and eleven nights he remained + beside her bed, taking no sleep during the day when he laid his head upon + the foot of the bed. No man ever pushed the jealousy of care and the + craving for devotion to such an extreme as he. He could not endure that + the slightest service should be done by others for his wife. There were + days of uncertainty, false hopes, now a little better, then a crisis,—in + short, all the horrible mutations of death as it wavers, hesitates, and + finally strikes. Madame Jules always found strength to smile at her + husband. She pitied him, knowing that soon he would be alone. It was a + double death,—that of life, that of love; but life grew feebler, and + love grew mightier. One frightful night there was, when Clemence passed + through that delirium which precedes the death of youth. She talked of her + happy love, she talked of her father; she related her mother’s revelations + on her death-bed, and the obligations that mother had laid upon her. She + struggled, not for life, but for her love which she could not leave. + </p> + <p> + “Grant, O God!” she said, “that he may not know I want him to die with + me.” + </p> + <p> + Jules, unable to bear the scene, was at that moment in the adjoining room, + and did not hear the prayer, which he would doubtless have fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + When this crisis was over, Madame Jules recovered some strength. The next + day she was beautiful and tranquil; hope seemed to come to her; she + adorned herself, as the dying often do. Then she asked to be alone all + day, and sent away her husband with one of those entreaties made so + earnestly that they are granted as we grant the prayer of a little child. + </p> + <p> + Jules, indeed, had need of this day. He went to Monsieur de Maulincour to + demand the satisfaction agreed upon between them. It was not without great + difficulty that he succeeded in reaching the presence of the author of + these misfortunes; but the vidame, when he learned that the visit related + to an affair of honor, obeyed the precepts of his whole life, and himself + took Jules into the baron’s chamber. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Desmarets looked about him in search of his antagonist. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! that is really he,” said the vidame, motioning to a man who was + sitting in an arm-chair beside the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it? Jules?” said the dying man in a broken voice. + </p> + <p> + Auguste had lost the only faculty that makes us live—memory. Jules + Desmarets recoiled with horror at this sight. He could not even recognize + the elegant young man in that thing without—as Bossuet said—a + name in any language. It was, in truth, a corpse with whitened hair, its + bones scarce covered with a wrinkled, blighted, withered skin,—a + corpse with white eyes motionless, mouth hideously gaping, like those of + idiots or vicious men killed by excesses. No trace of intelligence + remained upon that brow, nor in any feature; nor was there in that flabby + flesh either color or the faintest appearance of circulating blood. Here + was a shrunken, withered creature brought to the state of those monsters + we see preserved in museums, floating in alchohol. Jules fancied that he + saw above that face the terrible head of Ferragus, and his own anger was + silenced by such a vengeance. The husband found pity in his heart for the + vacant wreck of what was once a man. + </p> + <p> + “The duel has taken place,” said the vidame. + </p> + <p> + “But he has killed many,” answered Jules, sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “And many dear ones,” added the old man. “His grandmother is dying; and I + shall follow her soon into the grave.” + </p> + <p> + On the morrow of this day, Madame Jules grew worse from hour to hour. She + used a moment’s strength to take a letter from beneath her pillow, and + gave it eagerly to her husband with a sign that was easy to understand,—she + wished to give him, in a kiss, her last breath. He took it, and she died. + Jules fell half-dead himself and was taken to his brother’s house. There, + as he deplored in tears his absence of the day before, his brother told + him that this separation was eagerly desired by Clemence, who wished to + spare him the sight of the religious paraphernalia, so terrible to tender + imaginations, which the Church displays when conferring the last + sacraments upon the dying. + </p> + <p> + “You could not have borne it,” said his brother. “I could hardly bear the + sight myself, and all the servants wept. Clemence was like a saint. She + gathered strength to bid us all good-bye, and that voice, heard for the + last time, rent our hearts. When she asked pardon for the pain she might + unwillingly have caused her servants, there were cries and sobs and—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! enough!” said Jules. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to be alone, that he might read the last words of the woman whom + all had loved, and who had passed away like a flower. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My beloved, this is my last will. Why should we not make wills + for the treasures of our hearts, as for our worldly property? Was + not my love my property, my all? I mean here to dispose of my + love: it was the only fortune of your Clemence, and it is all that + she can leave you in dying. Jules, you love me still, and I die + happy. The doctors may explain my death as they think best; I + alone know the true cause. I shall tell it to you, whatever pain + it may cause you. I cannot carry with me, in a heart all yours, a + secret which you do not share, although I die the victim of an + enforced silence. + + “Jules, I was nurtured and brought up in the deepest solitude, far + from the vices and the falsehoods of the world, by the loving + woman whom you knew. Society did justice to her conventional + charm, for that is what pleases society; but I knew secretly her + precious soul, I could cherish the mother who made my childhood a + joy without bitterness, and I knew why I cherished her. Was not + that to love doubly? Yes, I loved her, I feared her, I respected + her; yet nothing oppressed my heart, neither fear nor respect. I + was all in all to her; she was all in all to me. For nineteen + happy years, without a care, my soul, solitary amid the world + which muttered round me, reflected only her pure image; my heart + beat for her and through her. I was scrupulously pious; I found + pleasure in being innocent before God. My mother cultivated all + noble and self-respecting sentiments in me. Ah! it gives me + happiness to tell you, Jules, that I now know I was indeed a young + girl, and that I came to you virgin in heart. + + “When I left that absolute solitude, when, for the first time, I + braided my hair and crowned it with almond blossoms, when I added, + with delight, a few satin knots to my white dress, thinking of the + world I was to see, and which I was curious to see—Jules, that + innocent and modest coquetry was done for you! Yes, as I entered + the world, I saw <i>you</i> first of all. Your face, I remarked it; it + stood out from the rest; your person pleased me; your voice, your + manners all inspired me with pleasant presentiments. When you came + up, when you spoke to me, the color on your forehead, the tremble + in your voice,—that moment gave me memories with which I throb as + I now write to you, as I now, for the last time, think of them. + Our love was at first the keenest of sympathies, but it was soon + discovered by each of us and then, as speedily, shared; just as, + in after times, we have both equally felt and shared innumerable + happinesses. From that moment my mother was only second in my + heart. Next, I was yours, all yours. There is my life, and all my + life, dear husband. + + “And here is what remains for me to tell you. One evening, a few + days before my mother’s death, she revealed to me the secret of + her life,—not without burning tears. I have loved you better + since the day I learned from the priest as he absolved my mother + that there are passions condemned by the world and by the Church. + But surely God will not be severe when they are the sins of souls + as tender as that of my mother; only, that dear woman could never + bring herself to repent. She loved much, Jules; she was all love. + So I have prayed daily for her, but never judged her. + + “That night I learned the cause of her deep maternal tenderness; + then I also learned that there was in Paris a man whose life and + whose love centred on me; that your fortune was his doing, and + that he loved you. I learned also that he was exiled from society + and bore a tarnished name; but that he was more unhappy for me, + for us, than for himself. My mother was all his comfort; she was + dying, and I promised to take her place. With all the ardor of a + soul whose feelings had never been perverted, I saw only the + happiness of softening the bitterness of my mother’s last moments, + and I pledged myself to continue her work of secret charity,—the + charity of the heart. The first time that I saw my father was + beside the bed where my mother had just expired. When he raised + his tearful eyes, it was to see in me a revival of his dead hopes. + I had sworn, not to tell a lie, but to keep silence; and that + silence what woman could have broken it? + + “There is my fault, Jules,—a fault which I expiate by death. I + doubted you. But fear is so natural to a woman; above all, a woman + who knows what it is that she may lose. I trembled for our love. + My father’s secret seemed to me the death of my happiness; and the + more I loved, the more I feared. I dared not avow this feeling to + my father; it would have wounded him, and in his situation a wound + was agony. But, without a word from me, he shared my fears. That + fatherly heart trembled for my happiness as much as I trembled for + myself; but it dared not speak, obeying the same delicacy that + kept me mute. Yes, Jules, I believed that you could not love the + daughter of Gratien Bourignard as you loved your Clemence. Without + that terror could I have kept back anything from you,—you who + live in every fold of my heart? + + “The day when that odious, unfortunate young officer spoke to you, + I was forced to lie. That day, for the second time in my life, I + knew what pain was; that pain has steadily increased until this + moment, when I speak with you for the last time. What matters now + my father’s position? You know all. I could, by the help of my + love, have conquered my illness and borne its sufferings; but I + cannot stifle the voice of doubt. Is it not probable that my + origin would affect the purity of your love and weaken it, + diminish it? That fear nothing has been able to quench in me. + There, Jules, is the cause of my death. I cannot live fearing a + word, a look,—a word you may never say, a look you may never + give; but, I cannot help it, I fear them. I die beloved; there is + my consolation. + + “I have known, for the last three years, that my father and his + friends have well-nigh moved the world to deceive the world. That + I might have a station in life, they have bought a dead man, a + reputation, a fortune, so that a living man might live again, + restored; and all this for you, for us. We were never to have + known of it. Well, my death will save my father from that + falsehood, for he will not survive me. + + “Farewell, Jules, my heart is all here. To show you my love in its + agony of fear, is not that bequeathing my whole soul to you? I + could never have the strength to speak to you; I have only enough + to write. I have just confessed to God the sins of my life. I have + promised to fill my mind with the King of Heaven only; but I must + confess to him who is, for me, the whole of earth. Alas! shall I + not be pardoned for this last sigh between the life that was and + the life that shall be? Farewell, my Jules, my loved one! I go to + God, with whom is Love without a cloud, to whom you will follow + me. There, before his throne, united forever, we may love each + other throughout the ages. This hope alone can comfort me. If I am + worthy of being there at once, I will follow you through life. My + soul shall bear your company; it will wrap you about, for <i>you</i> + must stay here still,—ah! here below. Lead a holy life that you + may the more surely come to me. You can do such good upon this + earth! Is it not an angel’s mission for the suffering soul to shed + happiness about him,—to give to others that which he has not? I + bequeath you to the Unhappy. Their smiles, their tears, are the + only ones of which I cannot be jealous. We shall find a charm in + sweet beneficence. Can we not live together still if you would + join my name—your Clemence—in these good works? + + “After loving as we have loved, there is naught but God, Jules. + God does not lie; God never betrays. Adore him only, I charge you! + Lead those who suffer up to him; comfort the sorrowing members of + his Church. Farewell, dear soul that I have filled! I know you; + you will never love again. I may die happy in the thought that + makes all women happy. Yes, my grave will be your heart. After + this childhood I have just related, has not my life flowed on + within that heart? Dead, you will never drive me forth. I am proud + of that rare life! You will know me only in the flower of my + youth; I leave you regrets without disillusions. Jules, it is a + happy death. + + “You, who have so fully understood me, may I ask one thing more of + you,—superfluous request, perhaps, the fulfilment of a woman’s + fancy, the prayer of a jealousy we all must feel,—I pray you to + burn all that especially belonged to <i>us</i>, destroy our chamber, + annihilate all that is a memory of our happiness. + + “Once more, farewell,—the last farewell! It is all love, and so + will be my parting thought, my parting breath.” + </pre> + <p> + When Jules had read that letter there came into his heart one of those + wild frenzies of which it is impossible to describe the awful anguish. All + sorrows are individual; their effects are not subjected to any fixed rule. + Certain men will stop their ears to hear nothing; some women close their + eyes hoping never to see again; great and splendid souls are met with who + fling themselves into sorrow as into an abyss. In the matter of despair, + all is true. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. CONCLUSION + </h2> + <p> + Jules escaped from his brother’s house and returned home, wishing to pass + the night beside his wife, and see till the last moment that celestial + creature. As he walked along with an indifference to life known only to + those who have reached the last degree of wretchedness, he thought of how, + in India, the law ordained that widows should die; he longed to die. He + was not yet crushed; the fever of his grief was still upon him. He reached + his home and went up into the sacred chamber; he saw his Clemence on the + bed of death, beautiful, like a saint, her hair smoothly laid upon her + forehead, her hands joined, her body wrapped already in its shroud. Tapers + were lighted, a priest was praying, Josephine kneeling in a corner, wept, + and, near the bed, were two men. One was Ferragus. He stood erect, + motionless, gazing at his daughter with dry eyes; his head you might have + taken for bronze: he did not see Jules. + </p> + <p> + The other man was Jacquet,—Jacquet, to whom Madame Jules had been + ever kind. Jacquet felt for her one of those respectful friendships which + rejoice the untroubled heart; a gentle passion; love without its desires + and its storms. He had come to pay his debt of tears, to bid a long adieu + to the wife of his friend, to kiss, for the first time, the icy brow of + the woman he had tacitly made his sister. + </p> + <p> + All was silence. Here death was neither terrible as in the churches, nor + pompous as it makes its way along the streets; no, it was death in the + home, a tender death; here were pomps of the heart, tears drawn from the + eyes of all. Jules sat down beside Jacquet and pressed his hand; then, + without uttering a word, all these persons remained as they were till + morning. + </p> + <p> + When daylight paled the tapers, Jacquet, foreseeing the painful scenes + which would then take place, drew Jules away into another room. At this + moment the husband looked at the father, and Ferragus looked at Jules. The + two sorrows arraigned each other, measured each other, and comprehended + each other in that look. A flash of fury shone for an instant in the eyes + of Ferragus. + </p> + <p> + “You killed her,” thought he. + </p> + <p> + “Why was I distrusted?” seemed the answer of the husband. + </p> + <p> + The scene was one that might have passed between two tigers recognizing + the futility of a struggle and, after a moment’s hesitation, turning away, + without even a roar. + </p> + <p> + “Jacquet,” said Jules, “have you attended to everything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to everything,” replied his friend, “but a man had forestalled me + who had ordered and paid for all.” + </p> + <p> + “He tears his daughter from me!” cried the husband, with the violence of + despair. + </p> + <p> + Jules rushed back to his wife’s room; but the father was there no longer. + Clemence had now been placed in a leaden coffin, and workmen were employed + in soldering the cover. Jules returned, horrified by the sight; the sound + of the hammers the men were using made him mechanically burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Jacquet,” he said, “out of this dreadful night one idea has come to me, + only one, but one I must make a reality at any price. I cannot let + Clemence stay in any cemetery in Paris. I wish to burn her,—to + gather her ashes and keep her with me. Say nothing of this, but manage on + my behalf to have it done. I am going to <i>her</i> chamber, where I shall + stay until the time has come to go. You alone may come in there to tell me + what you have done. Go, and spare nothing.” + </p> + <p> + During the morning, Madame Jules, after lying in a mortuary chapel at the + door of her house, was taken to Saint-Roch. The church was hung with black + throughout. The sort of luxury thus displayed had drawn a crowd; for in + Paris all things are sights, even true grief. There are people who stand + at their windows to see how a son deplores a mother as he follows her + body; there are others who hire commodious seats to see how a head is made + to fall. No people in the world have such insatiate eyes as the Parisians. + On this occasion, inquisitive minds were particularly surprised to see the + six lateral chapels at Saint-Roch also hung in black. Two men in mourning + were listening to a mortuary mass said in each chapel. In the chancel no + other persons but Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, and Jacquet were + present; the servants of the household were outside the screen. To church + loungers there was something inexplicable in so much pomp and so few + mourners. But Jules had been determined that no indifferent persons should + be present at the ceremony. + </p> + <p> + High mass was celebrated with the sombre magnificence of funeral services. + Beside the ministers in ordinary of Saint-Roch, thirteen priests from + other parishes were present. Perhaps never did the <i>Dies irae</i> + produce upon Christians, assembled by chance, by curiosity, and thirsting + for emotions, an effect so profound, so nervously glacial as that now + caused by this hymn when the eight voices of the precentors, accompanied + by the voices of the priests and the choir-boys, intoned it alternately. + From the six lateral chapels twelve other childish voices rose shrilly in + grief, mingling with the choir voices lamentably. From all parts of the + church this mourning issued; cries of anguish responded to the cries of + fear. That terrible music was the voice of sorrows hidden from the world, + of secret friendships weeping for the dead. Never, in any human religion, + have the terrors of the soul, violently torn from the body and stormily + shaken in presence of the fulminating majesty of God, been rendered with + such force. Before that clamor of clamors all artists and their most + passionate compositions must bow humiliated. No, nothing can stand beside + that hymn, which sums all human passions, gives them a galvanic life + beyond the coffin, and leaves them, palpitating still, before the living + and avenging God. These cries of childhood, mingling with the tones of + older voices, including thus in the Song of Death all human life and its + developments, recalling the sufferings of the cradle, swelling to the + griefs of other ages in the stronger male voices and the quavering of the + priests,—all this strident harmony, big with lightning and + thunderbolts, does it not speak with equal force to the daring + imagination, the coldest heart, nay, to philosophers themselves? As we + hear it, we think God speaks; the vaulted arches of no church are mere + material; they have a voice, they tremble, they scatter fear by the might + of their echoes. We think we see unnumbered dead arising and holding out + their hands. It is no more a father, a wife, a child,—humanity + itself is rising from its dust. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to judge of the catholic, apostolic, and Roman faith, + unless the soul has known that deepest grief of mourning for a loved one + lying beneath the pall; unless it has felt the emotions that fill the + heart, uttered by that Hymn of Despair, by those cries that crush the + mind, by that sacred fear augmenting strophe by strophe, ascending + heavenward, which terrifies, belittles, and elevates the soul, and leaves + within our minds, as the last sound ceases, a consciousness of + immortality. We have met and struggled with the vast idea of the Infinite. + After that, all is silent in the church. No word is said; sceptics + themselves <i>know not what they are feeling</i>. Spanish genius alone was + able to bring this untold majesty to untold griefs. + </p> + <p> + When the solemn ceremony was over, twelve men came from the six chapels + and stood around the coffin to hear the song of hope which the Church + intones for the Christian soul before the human form is buried. Then, each + man entered alone a mourning-coach; Jacquet and Monsieur Desmarets took + the thirteenth; the servants followed on foot. An hour later, they were at + the summit of that cemetery popularly called Pere-Lachaise. The unknown + twelve men stood in a circle round the grave, where the coffin had been + laid in presence of a crowd of loiterers gathered from all parts of this + public garden. After a few short prayers the priest threw a handful of + earth on the remains of this woman, and the grave-diggers, having asked + for their fee, made haste to fill the grave in order to dig another. + </p> + <p> + Here this history seems to end; but perhaps it would be incomplete if, + after giving a rapid sketch of Parisian life, and following certain of its + capricious undulations, the effects of death were omitted. Death in Paris + is unlike death in any other capital; few persons know the trials of true + grief in its struggle with civilization, and the government of Paris. + Perhaps, also, Monsieur Jules and Ferragus XXIII. may have proved + sufficiently interesting to make a few words on their after life not + entirely out of place. Besides, some persons like to be told all, and + wish, as one of our cleverest critics has remarked, to know by what + chemical process oil was made to burn in Aladdin’s lamp. + </p> + <p> + Jacquet, being a government employee, naturally applied to the authorities + for permission to exhume the body of Madame Jules and burn it. He went to + see the prefect of police, under whose protection the dead sleep. That + functionary demanded a petition. The blank was brought that gives to + sorrow its proper administrative form; it was necessary to employ the + bureaucratic jargon to express the wishes of a man so crushed that words, + perhaps, were lacking to him, and it was also necessary to coldly and + briefly repeat on the margin the nature of the request, which was done in + these words: “The petitioner respectfully asks for the incineration of his + wife.” + </p> + <p> + When the official charged with making the report to the Councillor of + State and prefect of police read that marginal note, explaining the object + of the petition, and couched, as requested, in the plainest terms, he + said:— + </p> + <p> + “This is a serious matter! my report cannot be ready under eight days.” + </p> + <p> + Jules, to whom Jacquet was obliged to speak of this delay, comprehended + the words that Ferragus had said in his hearing, “I’ll burn Paris!” + Nothing seemed to him now more natural than to annihilate that receptacle + of monstrous things. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he said to Jacquet, “you must go to the minister of the Interior, + and get your minister to speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; it + was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet was a + persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally reached + the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom he had made + the private secretary of his own minister say a word. These high + protectors aiding, he obtained for the morrow a second interview, in + which, being armed with a line from the autocrat of Foreign affairs to the + pacha of the Interior, Jacquet hoped to carry the matter by assault. He + was ready with reasons, and answers to peremptory questions,—in + short, he was armed at all points; but he failed. + </p> + <p> + “This matter does not concern me,” said the minister; “it belongs to the + prefect of police. Besides, there is no law giving a husband any legal + right to the body of his wife, nor to fathers those of their children. The + matter is serious. There are questions of public utility involved which + will have to be examined. The interests of the city of Paris might suffer. + Therefore if the matter depended on me, which it does not, I could not + decide <i>hic et nunc</i>; I should require a report.” + </p> + <p> + A <i>report</i> is to the present system of administration what limbo or + hades is to Christianity. Jacquet knew very well the mania for “reports”; + he had not waited until this occasion to groan at that bureaucratic + absurdity. He knew that since the invasion into public business of the <i>Report</i> + (an administrative revolution consummated in 1804) there was never known a + single minister who would take upon himself to have an opinion or to + decide the slightest matter, unless that opinion or matter had been + winnowed, sifted, and plucked to bits by the paper-spoilers, + quill-drivers, and splendid intellects of his particular bureau. Jacquet—he + was one of those who are worthy of Plutarch as biographer—saw that + he had made a mistake in his management of the affair, and had, in fact, + rendered it impossible by trying to proceed legally. The thing he should + have done was to have taken Madame Jules to one of Desmaret’s estates in + the country; and there, under the good-natured authority of some village + mayor to have gratified the sorrowful longing of his friend. Law, + constitutional and administrative, begets nothing; it is a barren monster + for peoples, for kings, and for private interests. But the peoples + decipher no principles but those that are writ in blood, and the evils of + legality will always be pacific; it flattens a nation down, that is all. + Jacquet, a man of modern liberty, returned home reflecting on the benefits + of arbitrary power. + </p> + <p> + When he went with his report to Jules, he found it necessary to deceive + him, for the unhappy man was in a high fever, unable to leave his bed. The + minister of the Interior mentioned, at a ministerial dinner that same + evening, the singular fancy of a Parisian in wishing to burn his wife + after the manner of the Romans. The clubs of Paris took up the subject, + and talked for a while of the burials of antiquity. Ancient things were + just then becoming a fashion, and some persons declared that it would be a + fine thing to re-establish, for distinguished persons, the funeral pyre. + This opinion had its defenders and its detractors. Some said that there + were too many such personages, and the price of wood would be enormously + increased by such a custom; moreover, it would be absurd to see our + ancestors in their urns in the procession at Longchamps. And if the urns + were valuable, they were likely some day to be sold at auction, full of + respectable ashes, or seized by creditors,—a race of men who + respected nothing. The other side made answer that our ancestors were much + safer in urns than at Pere-Lachaise, for before very long the city of + Paris would be compelled to order a Saint-Bartholomew against its dead, + who were invading the neighboring country, and threatening to invade the + territory of Brie. It was, in short, one of those futile but witty + discussions which sometimes cause deep and painful wounds. Happily for + Jules, he knew nothing of the conversations, the witty speeches, and + arguments which his sorrow had furnished to the tongues of Paris. + </p> + <p> + The prefect of police was indignant that Monsieur Jacquet had appealed to + a minister to avoid the wise delays of the commissioners of the public + highways; for the exhumation of Madame Jules was a question belonging to + that department. The police bureau was doing its best to reply promptly to + the petition; one appeal was quite sufficient to set the office in motion, + and once in motion matters would go far. But as for the administration, + that might take the case before the Council of state,—a machine very + difficult indeed to move. + </p> + <p> + After the second day Jacquet was obliged to tell his friend that he must + renounce his desire, because, in a city where the number of tears shed on + black draperies is tariffed, where the laws recognize seven classes of + funerals, where the scrap of ground to hold the dead is sold at its weight + in silver, where grief is worked for what it is worth, where the prayers + of the Church are costly, and the vestry claim payment for extra voices in + the <i>Dies irae</i>,—all attempt to get out of the rut prescribed + by the authorities for sorrow is useless and impossible. + </p> + <p> + “It would have been to me,” said Jules, “a comfort in my misery. I meant + to have died away from here, and I hoped to hold her in my arms in a + distant grave. I did not know that bureaucracy could send its claws into + our very coffins.” + </p> + <p> + He now wished to see if room had been left for him beside his wife. The + two friends went to the cemetery. When they reached it they found (as at + the doors of museums, galleries, and coach-offices) <i>ciceroni</i>, who + proposed to guide them through the labyrinth of Pere-Lachaise. Neither + Jules nor Jacquet could have found the spot where Clemence lay. Ah, + frightful anguish! They went to the lodge to consult the porter of the + cemetery. The dead have a porter, and there are hours when the dead are + “not receiving.” It is necessary to upset all the rules and regulations of + the upper and lower police to obtain permission to weep at night, in + silence and solitude, over the grave where a loved one lies. There’s a + rule for summer and a rule for winter about this. + </p> + <p> + Certainly, of all the porters in Paris, the porter of Pere-Lachaise is the + luckiest. In the first place, he has no gate-cord to pull; then, instead + of a lodge, he has a house,—an establishment which is not quite + ministerial, although a vast number of persons come under his + administration, and a good many employees. And this governor of the dead + has a salary, with emoluments, and acts under powers of which none + complain; he plays despot at his ease. His lodge is not a place of + business, though it has departments where the book-keeping of receipts, + expenses, and profits, is carried on. The man is not a <i>suisse</i>, nor + a concierge, nor actually a porter. The gate which admits the dead stands + wide open; and though there are monuments and buildings to be cared for, + he is not a care-taker. In short, he is an indefinable anomaly, an + authority which participates in all, and yet is nothing,—an + authority placed, like the dead on whom it is based, outside of all. + Nevertheless, this exceptional man grows out of the city of Paris,—that + chimerical creation like the ship which is its emblem, that creature of + reason moving on a thousand paws which are seldom unanimous in motion. + </p> + <p> + This guardian of the cemetery may be called a concierge who has reached + the condition of a functionary, not soluble by dissolution! His place is + far from being a sinecure. He does not allow any one to be buried without + a permit; he must count his dead. He points out to you in this vast field + the six feet square of earth where you will one day put all you love, or + all you hate, a mistress, or a cousin. Yes, remember this: all the + feelings and emotions of Paris come to end here, at this porter’s lodge, + where they are administrationized. This man has registers in which his + dead are booked; they are in their graves, and also on his records. He has + under him keepers, gardeners, grave-diggers, and their assistants. He is a + personage. Mourning hearts do not speak to him at first. He does not + appear at all except in serious cases, such as one corpse mistaken for + another, a murdered body, an exhumation, a dead man coming to life. The + bust of the reigning king is in his hall; possibly he keeps the late + royal, imperial, and quasi-royal busts in some cupboard,—a sort of + little Pere-Lachaise all ready for revolutions. In short, he is a public + man, an excellent man, good husband and good father,—epitaph apart. + But so many diverse sentiments have passed before him on biers; he has + seen so many tears, true and false; he has beheld sorrow under so many + aspects and on so many faces; he has heard such endless thousands of + eternal woes,—that to him sorrow has come to be nothing more than a + stone an inch thick, four feet long, and twenty-four inches wide. As for + regrets, they are the annoyances of his office; he neither breakfasts nor + dines without first wiping off the rain of an inconsolable affliction. He + is kind and tender to other feelings; he will weep over a stage-hero, over + Monsieur Germeuil in the “Auberge des Adrets,” the man with the + butter-colored breeches, murdered by Macaire; but his heart is ossified in + the matter of real dead men. Dead men are ciphers, numbers, to him; it is + his business to organize death. Yet he does meet, three times in a + century, perhaps, with an occasion when his part becomes sublime, and then + he <i>is</i> sublime through every hour of his day,—in times of + pestilence. + </p> + <p> + When Jacquet approached him this absolute monarch was evidently out of + temper. + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” he was saying, “to water the flowers from the rue Massena to + the place Regnault de Saint-Jean-d’Angely. You paid no attention to me! <i>Sac-a-papier</i>! + suppose the relations should take it into their heads to come here to-day + because the weather is fine, what would they say to me? They’d shriek as + if they were burned; they’d say horrid things of us, and calumniate us—” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Jacquet, “we want to know where Madame Jules is buried.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Jules <i>who</i>?” he asked. “We’ve had three Madame Jules within + the last week. Ah,” he said, interrupting himself, “here comes the funeral + of Monsieur le Baron de Maulincour! A fine procession, that! He has soon + followed his grandmother. Some families, when they begin to go, rattle + down like a wager. Lots of bad blood in Parisians.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Jacquet, touching him on the arm, “the person I spoke of + is Madame Jules Desmarets, the wife of the broker of that name.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I know!” he replied, looking at Jacquet. “Wasn’t it a funeral with + thirteen mourning coaches, and only one mourner in the twelve first? It + was so droll we all noticed it—” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, take care, Monsieur Desmarets is with me; he might hear you, + and what you say is not seemly.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, monsieur! you are quite right. Excuse me, I took you for + heirs. Monsieur,” he continued, after consulting a plan of the cemetery, + “Madame Jules is in the rue Marechal Lefebre, alley No. 4, between + Mademoiselle Raucourt, of the Comedie-Francaise, and Monsieur + Moreau-Malvin, a butcher, for whom a handsome tomb in white marble has + been ordered, which will be one of the finest in the cemetery—” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Jacquet, interrupting him, “that does not help us.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said the official, looking round him. “Jean,” he cried, to a man + whom he saw at a little distance, “conduct these gentlemen to the grave of + Madame Jules Desmarets, the broker’s wife. You know where it is,—near + to Mademoiselle Raucourt, the tomb where there’s a bust.” + </p> + <p> + The two friends followed the guide; but they did not reach the steep path + which leads to the upper part of the cemetery without having to pass + through a score of proposals and requests, made, with honied softness, by + the touts of marble-workers, iron-founders, and monumental sculptors. + </p> + <p> + “If monsieur would like to order <i>something</i>, we would do it on the + most reasonable terms.” + </p> + <p> + Jacquet was fortunate enough to be able to spare his friend the hearing of + these proposals so agonizing to bleeding hearts; and presently they + reached the resting-place. When Jules beheld the earth so recently dug, + into which the masons had stuck stakes to mark the place for the stone + posts required to support the iron railing, he turned, and leaned upon + Jacquet’s shoulder, raising himself now and again to cast long glances at + the clay mound where he was forced to leave the remains of the being in + and by whom he still lived. + </p> + <p> + “How miserably she lies there!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But she is not there,” said Jacquet, “she is in your memory. Come, let us + go; let us leave this odious cemetery, where the dead are adorned like + women for a ball.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we take her away?” + </p> + <p> + “Can it be done?” + </p> + <p> + “All things can be done!” cried Jules. “So, I shall lie there,” he added, + after a pause. “There is room enough.” + </p> + <p> + Jacquet finally succeeded in getting him to leave the great enclosure, + divided like a chessboard by iron railings and elegant compartments, in + which were tombs decorated with palms, inscriptions, and tears as cold as + the stones on which sorrowing hearts had caused to be carved their regrets + and coats of arms. Many good words are there engraved in black letters, + epigrams reproving the curious, <i>concetti</i>, wittily turned farewells, + rendezvous given at which only one side appears, pretentious biographies, + glitter, rubbish and tinsel. Here the floriated thyrsus, there a + lance-head, farther on Egyptian urns, now and then a few cannon; on all + sides the emblems of professions, and every style of art,—Moorish, + Greek, Gothic,—friezes, ovules, paintings, vases, guardian-angels, + temples, together with innumerable <i>immortelles</i>, and dead + rose-bushes. It is a forlorn comedy! It is another Paris, with its + streets, its signs, its industries, and its lodgings; but a Paris seen + through the diminishing end of an opera-glass, a microscopic Paris reduced + to the littleness of shadows, spectres, dead men, a human race which no + longer has anything great about it, except its vanity. There Jules saw at + his feet, in the long valley of the Seine, between the slopes of Vaugirard + and Meudon and those of Belleville and Montmartre, the real Paris, wrapped + in a misty blue veil produced by smoke, which the sunlight tendered at + that moment diaphanous. He glanced with a constrained eye at those forty + thousand houses, and said, pointing to the space comprised between the + column of the Place Vendome and the gilded cupola of the Invalides:— + </p> + <p> + “She was wrenched from me there by the fatal curiosity of that world which + excites itself and meddles solely for excitement and occupation.” + </p> + <p> + Twelve miles from where they were, on the banks of the Seine, in a modest + village lying on the slope of a hill of that long hilly basin the middle + of which great Paris stirs like a child in its cradle, a death scene was + taking place, far indeed removed from Parisian pomps, with no + accompaniment of torches or tapers or mourning-coaches, without prayers of + the Church, in short, a death in all simplicity. Here are the facts: The + body of a young girl was found early in the morning, stranded on the + river-bank in the slime and reeds of the Seine. Men employed in dredging + sand saw it as they were getting into their frail boat on their way to + their work. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Tiens</i>! fifty francs earned!” said one of them. + </p> + <p> + “True,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + They approached the body. + </p> + <p> + “A handsome girl! We had better go and make our statement.” + </p> + <p> + And the two dredgers, after covering the body with their jackets, went to + the house of the village mayor, who was much embarrassed at having to make + out the legal papers necessitated by this discovery. + </p> + <p> + The news of this event spread with the telegraphic rapidity peculiar to + regions where social communications have no distractions, where gossip, + scandal, calumny, in short, the social tale which feasts the world has no + break of continuity from one boundary to another. Before long, persons + arriving at the mayor’s office released him from all embarrassment. They + were able to convert the <i>proces-verbal</i> into a mere certificate of + death, by recognizing the body as that of the Demoiselle Ida Gruget, + corset-maker, living rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14. The + judiciary police of Paris arrived, and the mother, bearing her daughter’s + last letter. Amid the mother’s moans, a doctor certified to death by + asphyxia, through the injection of black blood into the pulmonary system,—which + settled the matter. The inquest over, and the certificates signed, by six + o’clock the same evening authority was given to bury the grisette. The + rector of the parish, however, refused to receive her into the church or + to pray for her. Ida Gruget was therefore wrapped in a shroud by an old + peasant-woman, put into a common pine-coffin, and carried to the village + cemetery by four men, followed by a few inquisitive peasant-women, who + talked about the death with wonder mingled with some pity. + </p> + <p> + The widow Gruget was charitably taken in by an old lady who prevented her + from following the sad procession of her daughter’s funeral. A man of + triple functions, the bell-ringer, beadle, and grave-digger of the parish, + had dug a grave in the half-acre cemetery behind the church,—a + church well known, a classic church, with a square tower and pointed roof + covered with slate, supported on the outside by strong corner buttresses. + Behind the apse of the chancel, lay the cemetery, enclosed with a + dilapidated wall,—a little field full of hillocks; no marble + monuments, no visitors, but surely in every furrow, tears and true + regrets, which were lacking to Ida Gruget. She was cast into a corner full + of tall grass and brambles. After the coffin had been laid in this field, + so poetic in its simplicity, the grave-digger found himself alone, for + night was coming on. While filling the grave, he stopped now and then to + gaze over the wall along the road. He was standing thus, resting on his + spade, and looking at the Seine, which had brought him the body. + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl!” cried the voice of a man who suddenly appeared. + </p> + <p> + “How you made me jump, monsieur,” said the grave-digger. + </p> + <p> + “Was any service held over the body you are burying?” + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur. Monsieur le cure wasn’t willing. This is the first person + buried here who didn’t belong to the parish. Everybody knows everybody + else in this place. Does monsieur—Why, he’s gone!” + </p> + <p> + Some days had elapsed when a man dressed in black called at the house of + Monsieur Jules Desmarets, and without asking to see him carried up to the + chamber of his wife a large porphyry vase, on which were inscribed the + words:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + INVITA LEGE + CONJUGI MOERENTI + FILIOLAE CINERES + RESTITUIT + AMICIS XII. JUVANTIBUS + MORIBUNDUS PATER. +</pre> + <p> + “What a man!” cried Jules, bursting into tears. + </p> + <p> + Eight days sufficed the husband to obey all the wishes of his wife, and to + arrange his own affairs. He sold his practice to a brother of Martin + Falleix, and left Paris while the authorities were still discussing + whether it was lawful for a citizen to dispose of the body of his wife. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Who has not encountered on the boulevards of Paris, at the turn of a + street, or beneath the arcades of the Palais-Royal, or in any part of the + world where chance may offer him the sight, a being, man or woman, at + whose aspect a thousand confused thoughts spring into his mind? At that + sight we are suddenly interested, either by features of some fantastic + conformation which reveal an agitated life, or by a singular effect of the + whole person, produced by gestures, air, gait, clothes; or by some deep, + intense look; or by other inexpressible signs which seize our minds + suddenly and forcibly without our being able to explain even to ourselves + the cause of our emotion. The next day other thoughts and other images + have carried out of sight that passing dream. But if we meet the same + personage again, either passing at some fixed hour, like the clerk of a + mayor’s office, or wandering about the public promenades, like those + individuals who seem to be a sort of furniture of the streets of Paris, + and who are always to be found in public places, at first representations + or noted restaurants,—then this being fastens himself or herself on + our memory, and remains there like the first volume of a novel the end of + which is lost. We are tempted to question this unknown person, and say, + “Who are you?” “Why are you lounging here?” “By what right do you wear + that pleated ruffle, that faded waistcoat, and carry that cane with an + ivory top; why those blue spectacles; for what reason do you cling to that + cravat of a dead and gone fashion?” Among these wandering creations some + belong to the species of the Greek Hermae; they say nothing to the soul; + <i>they are there</i>, and that is all. Why? is known to none. Such figure + are a type of those used by sculptors for the four Seasons, for Commerce, + for Plenty, etc. Some others—former lawyers, old merchants, elderly + generals—move and walk, and yet seem stationary. Like old trees that + are half uprooted by the current of a river, they seem never to take part + in the torrent of Paris, with its youthful, active crowd. It is impossible + to know if their friends have forgotten to bury them, or whether they have + escaped out of their coffins. At any rate, they have reached the condition + of semi-fossils. + </p> + <p> + One of these Parisian Melmoths had come within a few days into a + neighborhood of sober, quiet people, who, when the weather is fine, are + invariably to be found in the space which lies between the south entrance + of the Luxembourg and the north entrance of the Observatoire,—a + space without a name, the neutral space of Paris. There, Paris is no + longer; and there, Paris still lingers. The spot is a mingling of street, + square, boulevard, fortification, garden, avenue, high-road, province, and + metropolis; certainly, all of that is to be found there, and yet the place + is nothing of all that,—it is a desert. Around this spot without a + name stand the Foundling hospital, the Bourbe, the Cochin hospital, the + Capucines, the hospital La Rochefoucauld, the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the + hospital of the Val-de-Grace; in short, all the vices and all the + misfortunes of Paris find their asylum there. And (that nothing may lack + in this philanthropic centre) Science there studies the tides and + longitudes, Monsieur de Chateaubriand has erected the Marie-Therese + Infirmary, and the Carmelites have founded a convent. The great events of + life are represented by bells which ring incessantly through this desert,—for + the mother giving birth, for the babe that is born, for the vice that + succumbs, for the toiler who dies, for the virgin who prays, for the old + man shaking with cold, for genius self-deluded. And a few steps off is the + cemetery of Mont-Parnasse, where, hour after hour, the sorry funerals of + the faubourg Saint-Marceau wend their way. This esplanade, which commands + a view of Paris, has been taken possession of by bowl-players; it is, in + fact, a sort of bowling green frequented by old gray faces, belonging to + kindly, worthy men, who seem to continue the race of our ancestors, whose + countenances must only be compared with those of their surroundings. + </p> + <p> + The man who had become, during the last few days, an inhabitant of this + desert region, proved an assiduous attendant at these games of bowls; and + must, undoubtedly, be considered the most striking creature of these + various groups, who (if it is permissible to liken Parisians to the + different orders of zoology) belonged to the genus mollusk. The new-comer + kept sympathetic step with the <i>cochonnet</i>,—the little bowl + which serves as a goal and on which the interest of the game must centre. + He leaned against a tree when the <i>cochonnet</i> stopped; then, with the + same attention that a dog gives to his master’s gestures, he looked at the + other bowls flying through the air, or rolling along the ground. You might + have taken him for the weird and watchful genii of the <i>cochonnet</i>. + He said nothing; and the bowl-players—the most fanatic men that can + be encountered among the sectarians of any faith—had never asked the + reason of his dogged silence; in fact, the most observing of them thought + him deaf and dumb. + </p> + <p> + When it happened that the distances between the bowls and the <i>cochonnet</i> + had to be measured, the cane of this silent being was used as a measure, + the players coming up and taking it from the icy hands of the old man and + returning it without a word or even a sign of friendliness. The loan of + his cane seemed a servitude to which he had negatively consented. When a + shower fell, he stayed near the <i>cochonnet</i>, the slave of the bowls, + and the guardian of the unfinished game. Rain affected him no more than + the fine weather did; he was, like the players themselves, an intermediary + species between a Parisian who has the lowest intellect of his kind and an + animal which has the highest. + </p> + <p> + In other respects, pallid and shrunken, indifferent to his own person, + vacant in mind, he often came bareheaded, showing his sparse white hair, + and his square, yellow, bald skull, like the knee of a beggar seen through + his tattered trousers. His mouth was half-open, no ideas were in his + glance, no precise object appeared in his movements; he never smiled; he + never raised his eyes to heaven, but kept them habitually on the ground, + where he seemed to be looking for something. At four o’clock an old woman + arrived, to take him Heaven knows where; which she did by towing him along + by the arm, as a young girl drags a wilful goat which still wants to + browse by the wayside. This old man was a horrible thing to see. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon of the day when Jules Desmarets left Paris, his + travelling-carriage, in which he was alone, passed rapidly through the rue + de l’Est, and came out upon the esplanade of the Observatoire at the + moment when the old man, leaning against a tree, had allowed his cane to + be taken from his hand amid the noisy vociferations of the players, + pacifically irritated. Jules, thinking that he recognized that face, felt + an impulse to stop, and at the same instant the carriage came to a + standstill; for the postilion, hemmed in by some handcarts, had too much + respect for the game to call upon the players to make way for him. + </p> + <p> + “It is he!” said Jules, beholding in that human wreck, Ferragus XXIII., + chief of the Devorants. Then, after a pause, he added, “How he loved her!—Go + on, postilion.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note: Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is + entitled The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with + the Golden Eyes. In other addendum references all three stories + are usually combined under the title The Thirteen. +</pre> + <p> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bourignard, Gratien-Henri-Victor-Jean-Joseph + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + + Desmartes, Jules + Cesar Birotteau + + Desmartes, Madame Jules + Cesar Birotteau + + Desplein + The Atheist’s Mass + Cousin Pons + Lost Illusions + The Government Clerks + Pierrette + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Honorine + + Gruget, Madame Etienne + The Government Clerks + A Bachelor’s Establishment + + Haudry (doctor) + Cesar Birotteau + A Bachelor’s Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Cousin Pons + + Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de + Father Goriot + The Duchesse of Langeais + + Marsay, Henri de + The Duchesse of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve + + Maulincour, Baronne de + A Marriage Settlement + + Meynardie, Madame + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + + Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de + Father Goriot + Eugenie Grandet + Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Commission in Lunacy + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Modeste Mignon + The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + + Pamiers, Vidame de + The Duchesse of Langeais + Jealousies of a Country Town + + Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Duchess of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + + Serizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + The Duchesse of Langeais + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERRAGUS *** + +***** This file should be named 1649-h.htm or 1649-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/1649/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ferragus + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Katharine Prescott Wormeley + +Release Date: February, 1999 [Etext #1649] +Posting Date: February 27, 2010 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERRAGUS *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + + +By Honore De Balzac + + + +Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + + + PREPARER'S NOTE: + + Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is entitled + The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with the + Golden Eyes. The three stories are frequently combined under + the title The Thirteen. + + + + + DEDICATION + + To Hector Berlioz. + + + + +PREFACE + +Thirteen men were banded together in Paris under the Empire, all imbued +with one and the same sentiment, all gifted with sufficient energy to +be faithful to the same thought, with sufficient honor among themselves +never to betray one another even if their interests clashed; and +sufficiently wily and politic to conceal the sacred ties that united +them, sufficiently strong to maintain themselves above the law, bold +enough to undertake all things, and fortunate enough to succeed, nearly +always, in their undertakings; having run the greatest dangers, but +keeping silence if defeated; inaccessible to fear; trembling neither +before princes, nor executioners, not even before innocence; accepting +each other for such as they were, without social prejudices,--criminals, +no doubt, but certainly remarkable through certain of the qualities that +make great men, and recruiting their number only among men of mark. That +nothing might be lacking to the sombre and mysterious poesy of their +history, these Thirteen men have remained to this day unknown; though +all have realized the most chimerical ideas that the fantastic power +falsely attributed to the Manfreds, the Fausts, and the Melmoths can +suggest to the imagination. To-day, they are broken up, or, at least, +dispersed; they have peaceably put their necks once more under the yoke +of civil law, just as Morgan, that Achilles among pirates, transformed +himself from a buccaneering scourge to a quiet colonist, and spent, +without remorse, around his domestic hearth the millions gathered in +blood by the lurid light of flames and slaughter. + +Since the death of Napoleon, circumstances, about which the author must +keep silence, have still farther dissolved the original bond of this +secret society, always extraordinary, sometimes sinister, as though +it lived in the blackest pages of Mrs. Radcliffe. A somewhat strange +permission to relate in his own way a few of the adventures of these men +(while respecting certain susceptibilities) has only recently been given +to him by one of those anonymous heroes to whom all society was once +occultly subjected. In this permission the writer fancied he detected a +vague desire for personal celebrity. + +This man, apparently still young, with fair hair and blue eyes, whose +sweet, clear voice seemed to denote a feminine soul, was pale of face +and mysterious in manner; he conversed affably, declared himself not +more than forty years of age, and apparently belonged to the very +highest social classes. The name which he assumed must have been +fictitious; his person was unknown in society. Who was he? That, no one +has ever known. + +Perhaps, in confiding to the author the extraordinary matters which he +related to him, this mysterious person may have wished to see them in +a manner reproduced, and thus enjoy the emotions they were certain +to bring to the hearts of the masses,--a feeling analogous to that of +Macpherson when the name of his creation Ossian was transcribed into +all languages. That was certainly, for the Scotch lawyer, one of the +keenest, or at any rate the rarest, sensations a man could give himself. +Is it not the incognito of genius? To write the "Itinerary from Paris to +Jerusalem" is to take a share in the human glory of a single epoch; but +to endow his native land with another Homer, was not that usurping the +work of God? + +The author knows too well the laws of narration to be ignorant of the +pledges this short preface is contracting for him; but he also knows +enough of the history of the _Thirteen_ to be certain that his +present tale will never be thought below the interest inspired by +this programme. Dramas steeped in blood, comedies filled with terror, +romantic tales through which rolled heads mysteriously decapitated, have +been confided to him. If readers were not surfeited with horrors served +up to them of late in cold blood, he might reveal the calm atrocities, +the surpassing tragedies concealed under family life. But he chooses +in preference gentler events,--those where scenes of purity succeed the +tempests of passion; where woman is radiant with virtue and beauty. To +the honor of the _Thirteen_ be it said that there are such scenes in +their history, which may have the honor of being some day published as +a foil of tales to listeners,--that race apart from others, so curiously +energetic, and so interesting in spite of its crimes. + +An author ought to be above converting his tale, when the tale is true, +into a species of surprise-game, and of taking his readers, as certain +novellists do, through many volumes and from cellar to cellar, to show +them the dry bones of a dead body, and tell them, by way of conclusion, +that _that_ is what has frightened them behind doors, hidden in the +arras, or in cellars where the dead man was buried and forgotten. In +spite of his aversion for prefaces, the author feels bound to place the +following statement at the head of this narrative. Ferragus is a +first episode which clings by invisible links to the "History of the +_Thirteen_," whose power, naturally acquired, can alone explain certain +acts and agencies which would otherwise seem supernatural. Although it +is permissible in tellers of tales to have a sort of literary coquetry +in becoming historians, they ought to renounce the benefit that may +accrue from an odd or fantastic title--on which certain slight successes +have been won in the present day. Consequently, the author will now +explain, succinctly, the reasons that obliged him to select a title to +his book which seems at first sight unnatural. + +_Ferragus_ is, according to ancient custom, a name taken by the chief or +Grand Master of the Devorants. On the day of their election these chiefs +continue whichever of the dynasties of their Order they are most +in sympathy with, precisely as the Popes do, on their accession, in +connection with pontifical dynasties. Thus the Devorants have "Trempe-la +Soupe IX.," "Ferragus XXII.," "Tutanus XIII.," "Masche-Fer IV.," just +as the Church has Clement XIV., Gregory VII., Julius II., Alexander VI., +etc. + +Now, then, who are the Devorants? "Devorant" is the name of one of +those tribes of "Companions" that issued in ancient times from the great +mystical association formed among the workers of Christianity to rebuild +the temple at Jerusalem. Companionism (to coin a word) still exists in +France among the people. Its traditions, powerful over minds that are +not enlightened, and over men not educated enough to cast aside an oath, +might serve the ends of formidable enterprises if some rough-hewn genius +were to seize hold of these diverse associations. All the instruments +of this Companionism are well-nigh blind. From town to town there has +existed from time immemorial, for the use of Companions, an "Obade,"--a +sort of halting-place, kept by a "Mother," an old woman, half-gypsy, +with nothing to lose, knowing everything that happens in her +neighborhood, and devoted, either from fear or habit, to the tribe, +whose straggling members she feeds and lodges. This people, ever moving +and changing, though controlled by immutable customs, has its eyes +everywhere, executes, without judging it, a WILL,--for the oldest +Companion still belongs to an era when men had faith. Moreover, +the whole body professes doctrines that are sufficiently true and +sufficiently mysterious to electrify into a sort of tribal loyalty all +adepts whenever they obtain even a slight development. The attachment +of the Companions to their laws is so passionate that the diverse +tribes will fight sanguinary battles with each other in defence of some +question of principle. + +Happily for our present public safety, when a Devorant is ambitious, he +builds houses, lays by his money, and leaves the Order. There is many +a curious thing to tell about the "Compagnons du Devoir" [Companions of +the Duty], the rivals of the Devorants, and about the different sects +of working-men, their usages, their fraternity, and the bond existing +between them and the free-masons. But such details would be out of place +here. The author must, however, add that under the old monarchy it was +not an unknown thing to find a "Trempe-la-Soupe" enslaved to the king +sentenced for a hundred and one years to the galleys, but ruling his +tribe from there, religiously consulted by it, and when he escaped from +his galley, certain of help, succor, and respect, wherever he might be. +To see its grand master at the galleys is, to the faithful tribe, only +one of those misfortunes for which providence is responsible, and which +does not release the Devorants from obeying a power created by them to +be above them. It is but the passing exile of their legitimate king, +always a king for them. Thus we see the romantic prestige attaching to +the name of Ferragus and to that of the Devorants completely dissipated. + +As for the _Thirteen_, they were all men of the stamp of Trelawney, Lord +Byron's friend, who was, they say, the original of his "Corsair." They +were all fatalists, men of nerve and poesy, weary of leading flat and +empty lives, driven toward Asiatic enjoyments by forces all the more +excessive because, long dormant, they awoke furious. One of them, after +re-reading "Venice Preserved," and admiring the sublime union of Pierre +and Jaffier, began to reflect on the virtues shown by men who are +outlawed by society, on the honesty of galley-slaves, the faithfulness +of thieves among each other, the privileges of exorbitant power which +such men know how to win by concentrating all ideas into a single will. +He saw that Man is greater than men. He concluded that society ought +to belong wholly to those distinguished beings who, to natural +intelligence, acquired wisdom, and fortune, add a fanaticism hot enough +to fuse into one casting these different forces. That done, their occult +power, vast in action and in intensity, against which the social order +would be helpless, would cast down all obstacles, blast all other wills, +and give to each the devilish power of all. This world apart within the +world, hostile to the world, admitting none of the world's ideas, +not recognizing any law, not submitting to any conscience but that of +necessity, obedient to a devotion only, acting with every faculty for +a single associate when one of their number asked for the assistance of +all,--this life of filibusters in lemon kid gloves and cabriolets; +this intimate union of superior beings, cold and sarcastic, smiling and +cursing in the midst of a false and puerile society; this certainty of +forcing all things to serve an end, of plotting a vengeance that could +not fail of living in thirteen hearts; this happiness of nurturing a +secret hatred in the face of men, and of being always in arms against +this; this ability to withdraw to the sanctuary of self with one idea +more than even the most remarkable of men could have,--this religion of +pleasure and egotism cast so strong a spell over Thirteen men that they +revived the society of Jesuits to the profit of the devil. + +It was horrible and stupendous; but the compact was made, and it lasted +precisely because it appeared to be so impossible. + +There was, therefore, in Paris a brotherhood of _Thirteen_, who belonged +to each other absolutely, but ignored themselves as absolutely before +the world. At night they met, like conspirators, hiding no thought, +disposing each and all of a common fortune, like that of the Old Man +of the Mountain; having their feet in all salons, their hands in all +money-boxes, and making all things serve their purpose or their fancy +without scruple. No chief commanded them; no one member could arrogate +to himself that power. The most eager passion, the most exacting +circumstance, alone had the right to pass first. They were Thirteen +unknown kings,--but true kings, more than ordinary kings and judges and +executioners,--men who, having made themselves wings to roam through +society from depth to height, disdained to be anything in the social +sphere because they could be all. If the present writer ever learns the +reasons of their abdication of this power, he will take occasion to tell +them.[*] + + [*] See Theophile Gautier's account of the society of the + "Cheval Rouge." Memoir of Balzac. Roberts Brothers, Boston. + +Now, with this brief explanation, he may be allowed to begin the tale +of certain episodes in the history of the _Thirteen_, which have more +particularly attracted him by the Parisian flavor of their details and +the whimsicality of their contrasts. + + + + + +FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + + + + +CHAPTER I. MADAME JULES + + +Certain streets in Paris are as degraded as a man covered with infamy; +also, there are noble streets, streets simply respectable, young streets +on the morality of which the public has not yet formed an opinion; also +cut-throat streets, streets older than the age of the oldest dowagers, +estimable streets, streets always clean, streets always dirty, working, +laboring, and mercantile streets. In short, the streets of Paris +have every human quality, and impress us, by what we must call their +physiognomy, with certain ideas against which we are defenceless. There +are, for instance, streets of a bad neighborhood in which you could not +be induced to live, and streets where you would willingly take up your +abode. Some streets, like the rue Montmartre, have a charming head, +and end in a fish's tail. The rue de la Paix is a wide street, a fine +street, yet it wakens none of those gracefully noble thoughts which come +to an impressible mind in the middle of the rue Royale, and it certainly +lacks the majesty which reigns in the Place Vendome. + +If you walk the streets of the Ile Saint-Louis, do not seek the reason +of the nervous sadness that lays hold upon you save in the solitude +of the spot, the gloomy look of the houses, and the great deserted +mansions. This island, the ghost of _fermiers-generaux_, is the Venice +of Paris. The Place de la Bourse is voluble, busy, degraded; it is +never fine except by moonlight at two in the morning. By day it is +Paris epitomized; by night it is a dream of Greece. The rue +Traversiere-Saint-Honore--is not that a villainous street? Look at the +wretched little houses with two windows on a floor, where vice, crime, +and misery abound. The narrow streets exposed to the north, where the +sun never comes more than three or four times a year, are the cut-throat +streets which murder with impunity; the authorities of the present +day do not meddle with them; but in former times the Parliament might +perhaps have summoned the lieutenant of police and reprimanded him for +the state of things; and it would, at least, have issued some decree +against such streets, as it once did against the wigs of the Chapter of +Beauvais. And yet Monsieur Benoiston de Chateauneuf has proved that +the mortality of these streets is double that of others! To sum up such +theories by a single example: is not the rue Fromentin both murderous +and profligate! + +These observations, incomprehensible out of Paris, will doubtless be +understood by musing men of thought and poesy and pleasure, who +know, while rambling about Paris, how to harvest the mass of floating +interests which may be gathered at all hours within her walls; to them +Paris is the most delightful and varied of monsters: here, a pretty +woman; farther on, a haggard pauper; here, new as the coinage of a new +reign; there, in this corner, elegant as a fashionable woman. A monster, +moreover, complete! Its garrets, as it were, a head full of knowledge +and genius; its first storeys stomachs repleted; its shops, actual feet, +where the busy ambulating crowds are moving. Ah! what an ever-active +life the monster leads! Hardly has the last vibration of the last +carriage coming from a ball ceased at its heart before its arms are +moving at the barriers and it shakes itself slowly into motion. Doors +open; turning on their hinges like the membrane of some huge lobster, +invisibly manipulated by thirty thousand men or women, of whom each +individual occupies a space of six square feet, but has a kitchen, a +workshop, a bed, children, a garden, little light to see by, but +must see all. Imperceptibly, the articulations begin to crack; motion +communicates itself; the street speaks. By mid-day, all is alive; the +chimneys smoke, the monster eats; then he roars, and his thousand paws +begin to ramp. Splendid spectacle! But, O Paris! he who has not admired +your gloomy passages, your gleams and flashes of light, your deep and +silent _cul-de-sacs_, who has not listened to your murmurings between +midnight and two in the morning, knows nothing as yet of your true +poesy, nor of your broad and fantastic contrasts. + +There are a few amateurs who never go their way heedlessly; who savor +their Paris, so to speak; who know its physiognomy so well that they +see every wart, and pimple, and redness. To others, Paris is always that +monstrous marvel, that amazing assemblage of activities, of schemes, +of thoughts; the city of a hundred thousand tales, the head of the +universe. But to those few, Paris is sad or gay, ugly or beautiful, +living or dead; to them Paris is a creature; every man, every fraction +of a house is a lobe of the cellular tissue of that great courtesan +whose head and heart and fantastic customs they know so well. These men +are lovers of Paris; they lift their noses at such or such a corner of +a street, certain that they can see the face of a clock; they tell a +friend whose tobacco-pouch is empty, "Go down that passage and turn +to the left; there's a tobacconist next door to a confectioner, where +there's a pretty girl." Rambling about Paris is, to these poets, a +costly luxury. How can they help spending precious minutes before +the dramas, disasters, faces, and picturesque events which meet us +everywhere amid this heaving queen of cities, clothed in posters,--who +has, nevertheless, not a single clean corner, so complying is she to the +vices of the French nation! Who has not chanced to leave his home early +in the morning, intending to go to some extremity of Paris, and found +himself unable to get away from the centre of it by the dinner-hour? +Such a man will know how to excuse this vagabondizing start upon our +tale; which, however, we here sum up in an observation both useful and +novel, as far as any observation can be novel in Paris, where there is +nothing new,--not even the statue erected yesterday, on which some young +gamin has already scribbled his name. + +Well, then! there are streets, or ends of streets, there are houses, +unknown for the most part to persons of social distinction, to which a +woman of that class cannot go without causing cruel and very wounding +things to be thought of her. Whether the woman be rich and has a +carriage, whether she is on foot, or is disguised, if she enters one +of these Parisian defiles at any hour of the day, she compromises her +reputation as a virtuous woman. If, by chance, she is there at nine in +the evening the conjectures that an observer permits himself to make +upon her may prove fearful in their consequences. But if the woman is +young and pretty, if she enters a house in one of those streets, if the +house has a long, dark, damp, and evil-smelling passage-way, at the end +of which flickers the pallid gleam of an oil lamp, and if beneath that +gleam appears the horrid face of a withered old woman with fleshless +fingers, ah, then! and we say it in the interests of young and pretty +women, that woman is lost. She is at the mercy of the first man of her +acquaintance who sees her in that Parisian slough. There is more than +one street in Paris where such a meeting may lead to a frightful drama, +a bloody drama of death and love, a drama of the modern school. + +Unhappily, this scene, this modern drama itself, will be comprehended by +only a small number of persons; and it is a pity to tell the tale to +a public which cannot enter into its local merit. But who can flatter +himself that he will ever be understood? We all die unknown--'tis the +saying of women and of authors. + +At half-past eight o'clock one evening, in the rue Pagevin, in the days +when that street had no wall which did not echo some infamous word, and +was, in the direction of the rue Soly, the narrowest and most impassable +street in Paris (not excepting the least frequented corner of the most +deserted street),--at the beginning of the month of February about +thirteen years ago, a young man, by one of those chances which come but +once in life, turned the corner of the rue Pagevin to enter the rue des +Vieux-Augustins, close to the rue Soly. There, this young man, who lived +himself in the rue de Bourbon, saw in a woman near whom he had been +unconsciously walking, a vague resemblance to the prettiest woman in +Paris; a chaste and delightful person, with whom he was secretly and +passionately in love,--a love without hope; she was married. In a moment +his heart leaped, an intolerable heat surged from his centre and flowed +through all his veins; his back turned cold, the skin of his head crept. +He loved, he was young, he knew Paris; and his knowledge did not permit +him to be ignorant of all there was of possible infamy in an elegant, +rich, young, and beautiful woman walking there, alone, with a furtively +criminal step. _She_ in that mud! at that hour! + +The love that this young man felt for that woman may seem romantic, and +all the more so because he was an officer in the Royal Guard. If he had +been in the infantry, the affair might have seemed more likely; but, as +an officer of rank in the cavalry, he belonged to that French arm which +demands rapidity in its conquests and derives as much vanity from its +amorous exploits as from its dashing uniform. But the passion of this +officer was a true love, and many young hearts will think it noble. +He loved this woman because she was virtuous; he loved her virtue, her +modest grace, her imposing saintliness, as the dearest treasures of his +hidden passion. This woman was indeed worthy to inspire one of those +platonic loves which are found, like flowers amid bloody ruins, in the +history of the middle-ages; worthy to be the hidden principle of all the +actions of a young man's life; a love as high, as pure as the skies when +blue; a love without hope and to which men bind themselves because +it can never deceive; a love that is prodigal of unchecked enjoyment, +especially at an age when the heart is ardent, the imagination keen, and +the eyes of a man see very clearly. + +Strange, weird, inconceivable effects may be met with at night in Paris. +Only those who have amused themselves by watching those effects have +any idea how fantastic a woman may appear there at dusk. At times the +creature whom you are following, by accident or design, seems to you +light and slender; the stockings, if they are white, make you fancy that +the legs must be slim and elegant; the figure though wrapped in a shawl, +or concealed by a pelisse, defines itself gracefully and seductively +among the shadows; anon, the uncertain gleam thrown from a shop-window +or a street lamp bestows a fleeting lustre, nearly always deceptive, on +the unknown woman, and fires the imagination, carrying it far beyond +the truth. The senses then bestir themselves; everything takes color and +animation; the woman appears in an altogether novel aspect; her person +becomes beautiful. Behold! she is not a woman, she is a demon, a siren, +who is drawing you by magnetic attraction to some respectable house, +where the worthy _bourgeoise_, frightened by your threatening step and +the clack of your boots, shuts the door in your face without looking at +you. + +A vacillating gleam, thrown from the shop-window of a shoemaker, +suddenly illuminated from the waist down the figure of the woman who was +before the young man. Ah! surely, _she_ alone had that swaying figure; +she alone knew the secret of that chaste gait which innocently set into +relief the many beauties of that attractive form. Yes, that was the +shawl, and that the velvet bonnet which she wore in the mornings. On +her gray silk stockings not a spot, on her shoes not a splash. The shawl +held tightly round the bust disclosed, vaguely, its charming lines; and +the young man, who had often seen those shoulders at a ball, knew well +the treasures that the shawl concealed. By the way a Parisian woman +wraps a shawl around her, and the way she lifts her feet in the street, +a man of intelligence in such studies can divine the secret of her +mysterious errand. There is something, I know not what, of quivering +buoyancy in the person, in the gait; the woman seems to weigh less; she +steps, or rather, she glides like a star, and floats onward led by a +thought which exhales from the folds and motion of her dress. The young +man hastened his step, passed the woman, and then turned back to look +at her. Pst! she had disappeared into a passage-way, the grated door of +which and its bell still rattled and sounded. The young man walked back +to the alley and saw the woman reach the farther end, where she began +to mount--not without receiving the obsequious bow of an old portress--a +winding staircase, the lower steps of which were strongly lighted; she +went up buoyantly, eagerly, as though impatient. + +"Impatient for what?" said the young man to himself, drawing back to +lean against a wooden railing on the other side of the street. He +gazed, unhappy man, at the different storeys of the house, with the keen +attention of a detective searching for a conspirator. + +It was one of those houses of which there are thousands in Paris, +ignoble, vulgar, narrow, yellowish in tone, with four storeys and three +windows on each floor. The outer blinds of the first floor were closed. +Where was she going? The young man fancied he heard the tinkle of a bell +on the second floor. As if in answer to it, a light began to move in a +room with two windows strongly illuminated, which presently lit up the +third window, evidently that of a first room, either the salon or the +dining-room of the apartment. Instantly the outline of a woman's bonnet +showed vaguely on the window, and a door between the two rooms must +have closed, for the first was dark again, while the two other windows +resumed their ruddy glow. At this moment a voice said, "Hi, there!" and +the young man was conscious of a blow on his shoulder. + +"Why don't you pay attention?" said the rough voice of a workman, +carrying a plank on his shoulder. The man passed on. He was the voice of +Providence saying to the watcher: "What are you meddling with? Think of +your own duty; and leave these Parisians to their own affairs." + +The young man crossed his arms; then, as no one beheld him, he suffered +tears of rage to flow down his cheeks unchecked. At last the sight of +the shadows moving behind the lighted windows gave him such pain that he +looked elsewhere and noticed a hackney-coach, standing against a wall +in the upper part of the rue des Vieux-Augustins, at a place where there +was neither the door of a house, nor the light of a shop-window. + +Was it she? Was it not she? Life or death to a lover! This lover waited. +He stood there during a century of twenty minutes. After that the woman +came down, and he then recognized her as the one whom he secretly loved. +Nevertheless, he wanted still to doubt. She went to the hackney-coach, +and got into it. + +"The house will always be there and I can search it later," thought the +young man, following the carriage at a run, to solve his last doubts; +and soon he did so. + +The carriage stopped in the rue de Richelieu before a shop for +artificial flowers, close to the rue de Menars. The lady got out, +entered the shop, sent out the money to pay the coachman, and presently +left the shop herself, on foot, after buying a bunch of marabouts. +Marabouts for her black hair! The officer beheld her, through the +window-panes, placing the feathers to her head to see the effect, and +he fancied he could hear the conversation between herself and the +shop-woman. + +"Oh! madame, nothing is more suitable for brunettes: brunettes have +something a little too strongly marked in their lines, and marabouts +give them just that _flow_ which they lack. Madame la Duchesse de +Langeais says they give a woman something vague, Ossianic, and very +high-bred." + +"Very good; send them to me at once." + +Then the lady turned quickly toward the rue de Menars, and entered her +own house. When the door closed on her, the young lover, having lost +his hopes, and worse, far worse, his dearest beliefs, walked through the +streets like a drunken man, and presently found himself in his own room +without knowing how he came there. He flung himself into an arm-chair, +put his head in his hands and his feet on the andirons, drying his boots +until he burned them. It was an awful moment,--one of those moments in +human life when the character is moulded, and the future conduct of the +best of men depends on the good or evil fortune of his first action. +Providence or fatality?--choose which you will. + +This young man belonged to a good family, whose nobility was not very +ancient; but there are so few really old families in these days, that +all men of rank are ancient without dispute. His grandfather had bought +the office of counsellor to the Parliament of Paris, where he afterwards +became president. His sons, each provided with a handsome fortune, +entered the army, and through their marriages became attached to the +court. The Revolution swept the family away; but one old dowager, too +obstinate to emigrate, was left; she was put in prison, threatened with +death, but was saved by the 9th Thermidor and recovered her property. +When the proper time came, about the year 1804, she recalled her +grandson to France. Auguste de Maulincour, the only scion of the +Carbonnon de Maulincour, was brought up by the good dowager with the +triple care of a mother, a woman of rank, and an obstinate dowager. When +the Restoration came, the young man, then eighteen years of age, entered +the Maison-Rouge, followed the princes to Ghent, was made an officer in +the body-guard, left it to serve in the line, but was recalled later to +the Royal Guard, where, at twenty-three years of age, he found +himself major of a cavalry regiment,--a splendid position, due to his +grandmother, who had played her cards well to obtain it, in spite of his +youth. This double biography is a compendium of the general and special +history, barring variations, of all the noble families who emigrated +having debts and property, dowagers and tact. + +Madame la Baronne de Maulincour had a friend in the old Vidame de +Pamiers, formerly a commander of the Knights of Malta. This was one of +those undying friendships founded on sexagenary ties which nothing +can weaken, because at the bottom of such intimacies there are certain +secrets of the human heart, delightful to guess at when we have the +time, insipid to explain in twenty words, and which might make the text +of a work in four volumes as amusing as the Doyen de Killerine,--a work +about which young men talk and judge without having read it. + +Auguste de Maulincour belonged therefore to the faubourg Saint-Germain +through his grandmother and the vidame, and it sufficed him to date back +two centuries to take the tone and opinions of those who assume to +go back to Clovis. This young man, pale, slender, and delicate in +appearance, a man of honor and true courage, who would fight a duel for +a yes or a no, had never yet fought upon a battle-field, though he wore +in his button-hole the cross of the Legion of honor. He was, as you +perceive, one of the blunders of the Restoration, perhaps the most +excusable of them. The youth of those days was the youth of no epoch. +It came between the memories of the Empire and those of the Emigration, +between the old traditions of the court and the conscientious education +of the _bourgeoisie_; between religion and fancy-balls; between two +political faiths, between Louis XVIII., who saw only the present, and +Charles X., who looked too far into the future; it was moreover bound to +accept the will of the king, though the king was deceiving and tricking +it. This unfortunate youth, blind and yet clear-sighted, was counted +as nothing by old men jealously keeping the reins of the State in +their feeble hands, while the monarchy could have been saved by their +retirement and the accession of this Young France, which the old +doctrinaires, the _emigres_ of the Restoration, still speak of +slightingly. Auguste de Maulincour was a victim to the ideas which +weighed in those days upon French youth, and we must here explain why. + +The Vidame de Pamiers was still, at sixty-seven years of age, a very +brilliant man, having seen much and lived much; a good talker, a man of +honor and a gallant man, but who held as to women the most detestable +opinions; he loved them, and he despised them. _Their_ honor! _their_ +feelings! Ta-ra-ra, rubbish and shams! When he was with them, he +believed in them, the ci-devant "monstre"; he never contradicted them, +and he made them shine. But among his male friends, when the topic of +the sex came up, he laid down the principle that to deceive women, and +to carry on several intrigues at once, should be the occupation of those +young men who were so misguided as to wish to meddle in the affairs of +the State. It is sad to have to sketch so hackneyed a portrait, for has +it not figured everywhere and become, literally, as threadbare as +that of a grenadier of the Empire? But the vidame had an influence +on Monsieur de Maulincour's destiny which obliges us to preserve his +portrait; he lectured the young man after his fashion, and did his best +to convert him to the doctrines of the great age of gallantry. + +The dowager, a tender-hearted, pious woman, sitting between God and her +vidame, a model of grace and sweetness, but gifted with that well-bred +persistency which triumphs in the long run, had longed to preserve for +her grandson the beautiful illusions of life, and had therefore brought +him up in the highest principles; she instilled into him her own +delicacy of feeling and made him, to outward appearance, a timid man, if +not a fool. The sensibilities of the young fellow, preserved pure, were +not worn by contact without; he remained so chaste, so scrupulous, that +he was keenly offended by actions and maxims to which the world attached +no consequence. Ashamed of this susceptibility, he forced himself to +conceal it under a false hardihood; but he suffered in secret, all the +while scoffing with others at the things he reverenced. + +It came to pass that he was deceived; because, in accordance with a not +uncommon whim of destiny, he, a man of gentle melancholy, and spiritual +in love, encountered in the object of his first passion a woman who +held in horror all German sentimentalism. The young man, in consequence, +distrusted himself, became dreamy, absorbed in his griefs, complaining +of not being understood. Then, as we desire all the more violently the +things we find difficult to obtain, he continued to adore women with +that ingenuous tenderness and feline delicacy the secret of which +belongs to women themselves, who may, perhaps, prefer to keep the +monopoly of it. In point of fact, though women of the world complain +of the way men love them, they have little liking themselves for those +whose soul is half feminine. Their own superiority consists in making +men believe they are their inferiors in love; therefore they will +readily leave a lover if he is inexperienced enough to rob them of those +fears with which they seek to deck themselves, those delightful tortures +of feigned jealousy, those troubles of hope betrayed, those futile +expectations,--in short, the whole procession of their feminine +miseries. They hold Sir Charles Grandison in horror. What can be more +contrary to their nature than a tranquil, perfect love? They want +emotions; happiness without storms is not happiness to them. Women with +souls that are strong enough to bring infinitude into love are angelic +exceptions; they are among women what noble geniuses are among men. +Their great passions are rare as masterpieces. Below the level of +such love come compromises, conventions, passing and contemptible +irritations, as in all things petty and perishable. + +Amid the hidden disasters of his heart, and while he was still seeking +the woman who could comprehend him (a search which, let us remark in +passing, is one of the amorous follies of our epoch), Auguste met, in +the rank of society that was farthest from his own, in the secondary +sphere of money, where banking holds the first place, a perfect being, +one of those women who have I know not what about them that is saintly +and sacred,--women who inspire such reverence that love has need of the +help of a long familiarity to declare itself. + +Auguste then gave himself up wholly to the delights of the deepest and +most moving of passions, to a love that was purely adoring. Innumerable +repressed desires there were, shadows of passion so vague yet so +profound, so fugitive and yet so actual, that one scarcely knows to what +we may compare them. They are like perfumes, or clouds, or rays of the +sun, or shadows, or whatever there is in nature that shines for a moment +and disappears, that springs to life and dies, leaving in the heart long +echoes of emotion. When the soul is young enough to nurture melancholy +and far-off hope, to find in woman more than a woman, is it not the +greatest happiness that can befall a man when he loves enough to feel +more joy in touching a gloved hand, or a lock of hair, in listening to +a word, in casting a single look, than in all the ardor of possession +given by happy love? Thus it is that rejected persons, those rebuffed by +fate, the ugly and unfortunate, lovers unrevealed, women and timid men, +alone know the treasures contained in the voice of the beloved. Taking +their source and their element from the soul itself, the vibrations +of the air, charged with passion, put our hearts so powerfully into +communion, carrying thought between them so lucidly, and being, above +all, so incapable of falsehood, that a single inflection of a voice is +often a revelation. What enchantments the intonations of a tender +voice can bestow upon the heart of a poet! What ideas they awaken! What +freshness they shed there! Love is in the voice before the glance avows +it. Auguste, poet after the manner of lovers (there are poets who feel, +and poets who express; the first are the happiest), Auguste had tasted +all these early joys, so vast, so fecund. SHE possessed the most winning +organ that the most artful woman of the world could have desired in +order to deceive at her ease; _she_ had that silvery voice which is soft +to the ear, and ringing only for the heart which it stirs and troubles, +caresses and subjugates. + +And this woman went by night to the rue Soly through the rue Pagevin! +and her furtive apparition in an infamous house had just destroyed the +grandest of passions! The vidame's logic triumphed. + +"If she is betraying her husband we will avenge ourselves," said +Auguste. + +There was still faith in that "if." The philosophic doubt of Descartes +is a politeness with which we should always honor virtue. Ten o'clock +sounded. The Baron de Maulincour remembered that this woman was going to +a ball that evening at a house to which he had access. He dressed, went +there, and searched for her through all the salons. The mistress of the +house, Madame de Nucingen, seeing him thus occupied, said:-- + +"You are looking for Madame Jules; but she has not yet come." + +"Good evening, dear," said a voice. + +Auguste and Madame de Nucingen turned round. Madame Jules had arrived, +dressed in white, looking simple and noble, wearing in her hair the +marabouts the young baron had seen her choose in the flower-shop. That +voice of love now pierced his heart. Had he won the slightest right to +be jealous of her he would have petrified her then and there by saying +the words, "Rue Soly!" But if he, an alien to her life, had said those +words in her ear a thousand times, Madame Jules would have asked him in +astonishment what he meant. He looked at her stupidly. + +For those sarcastic persons who scoff at all things it may be a great +amusement to detect the secret of a woman, to know that her chastity is +a lie, that her calm face hides some anxious thought, that under that +pure brow is a dreadful drama. But there are other souls to whom +the sight is saddening; and many of those who laugh in public, when +withdrawn into themselves and alone with their conscience, curse the +world while they despise the woman. Such was the case with Auguste de +Maulincour, as he stood there in presence of Madame Jules. Singular +situation! There was no other relation between them than that which +social life establishes between persons who exchange a few words seven +or eight times in the course of a winter, and yet he was calling her +to account on behalf of a happiness unknown to her; he was judging her, +without letting her know of his accusation. + +Many young men find themselves thus in despair at having broken forever +with a woman adored in secret, condemned and despised in secret. There +are many hidden monologues told to the walls of some solitary lodging; +storms roused and calmed without ever leaving the depths of hearts; +amazing scenes of the moral world, for which a painter is wanted. Madame +Jules sat down, leaving her husband to make a turn around the salon. +After she was seated she seemed uneasy, and, while talking with her +neighbor, she kept a furtive eye on Monsieur Jules Desmarets, her +husband, a broker chiefly employed by the Baron de Nucingen. The +following is the history of their home life. + +Monsieur Desmarets was, five years before his marriage, in a broker's +office, with no other means than the meagre salary of a clerk. But he +was a man to whom misfortune had early taught the truths of life, and he +followed the strait path with the tenacity of an insect making for its +nest; he was one of those dogged young men who feign death before an +obstacle and wear out everybody's patience with their own beetle-like +perseverance. Thus, young as he was, he had all the republican virtue of +poor peoples; he was sober, saving of his time, an enemy to pleasure. +He waited. Nature had given him the immense advantage of an agreeable +exterior. His calm, pure brow, the shape of his placid, but expressive +face, his simple manners,--all revealed in him a laborious and resigned +existence, that lofty personal dignity which is imposing to others, +and the secret nobility of heart which can meet all events. His modesty +inspired a sort of respect in those who knew him. Solitary in the midst +of Paris, he knew the social world only by glimpses during the brief +moments which he spent in his patron's salon on holidays. + +There were passions in this young man, as in most of the men who live +in that way, of amazing profundity,--passions too vast to be drawn into +petty incidents. His want of means compelled him to lead an ascetic +life, and he conquered his fancies by hard work. After paling all day +over figures, he found his recreation in striving obstinately to acquire +that wide general knowledge so necessary in these days to every man who +wants to make his mark, whether in society, or in commerce, at the bar, +or in politics or literature. The only peril these fine souls have to +fear comes from their own uprightness. They see some poor girl; they +love her; they marry her, and wear out their lives in a struggle between +poverty and love. The noblest ambition is quenched perforce by the +household account-book. Jules Desmarets went headlong into this peril. + +He met one evening at his patron's house a girl of the rarest beauty. +Unfortunate men who are deprived of affection, and who consume the +finest hours of youth in work and study, alone know the rapid ravages +that passion makes in their lonely, misconceived hearts. They are so +certain of loving truly, all their forces are concentrated so quickly on +the object of their love, that they receive, while beside her, the most +delightful sensations, when, as often happens, they inspire none at +all. Nothing is more flattering to a woman's egotism than to divine this +passion, apparently immovable, and these emotions so deep that they have +needed a great length of time to reach the human surface. These poor +men, anchorites in the midst of Paris, have all the enjoyments of +anchorites; and may sometimes succumb to temptations. But, more often +deceived, betrayed, and misunderstood, they are rarely able to gather +the sweet fruits of a love which, to them, is like a flower dropped from +heaven. + +One smile from his wife, a single inflection of her voice sufficed to +make Jules Desmarets conceive a passion which was boundless. Happily, +the concentrated fire of that secret passion revealed itself artlessly +to the woman who inspired it. These two beings then loved each other +religiously. To express all in a word, they clasped hands without shame +before the eyes of the world and went their way like two children, +brother and sister, passing serenely through a crowd where all made way +for them and admired them. + +The young girl was in one of those unfortunate positions which human +selfishness entails upon children. She had no civil status; her name of +"Clemence" and her age were recorded only by a notary public. As for +her fortune, that was small indeed. Jules Desmarets was a happy man +on hearing these particulars. If Clemence had belonged to an opulent +family, he might have despaired of obtaining her; but she was only the +poor child of love, the fruit of some terrible adulterous passion; and +they were married. Then began for Jules Desmarets a series of fortunate +events. Every one envied his happiness; and henceforth talked only of +his luck, without recalling either his virtues or his courage. + +Some days after their marriage, the mother of Clemence, who passed in +society for her godmother, told Jules Desmarets to buy the office and +good-will of a broker, promising to provide him with the necessary +capital. In those days, such offices could still be bought at a modest +price. That evening, in the salon as it happened of his patron, a +wealthy capitalist proposed, on the recommendation of the mother, a very +advantageous transaction for Jules Desmarets, and the next day the happy +clerk was able to buy out his patron. In four years Desmarets became one +of the most prosperous men in his business; new clients increased the +number his predecessor had left to him; he inspired confidence in all; +and it was impossible for him not to feel, by the way business came +to him, that some hidden influence, due to his mother-in-law, or to +Providence, was secretly protecting him. + +At the end of the third year Clemence lost her godmother. By that time +Monsieur Jules (so called to distinguish him from an elder brother, whom +he had set up as a notary in Paris) possessed an income from invested +property of two hundred thousand francs. There was not in all Paris +another instance of the domestic happiness enjoyed by this couple. +For five years their exceptional love had been troubled by only one +event,--a calumny for which Monsieur Jules exacted vengeance. One of his +former comrades attributed to Madame Jules the fortune of her husband, +explaining that it came from a high protection dearly paid for. The man +who uttered the calumny was killed in the duel that followed it. + +The profound passion of this couple, which survived marriage, obtained +a great success in society, though some women were annoyed by it. The +charming household was respected; everybody feted it. Monsieur and +Madame Jules were sincerely liked, perhaps because there is nothing more +delightful to see than happy people; but they never stayed long at any +festivity. They slipped away early, as impatient to regain their nest +as wandering pigeons. This nest was a large and beautiful mansion in the +rue de Menars, where a true feeling for art tempered the luxury which +the financial world continues, traditionally, to display. Here the happy +pair received their society magnificently, although the obligations of +social life suited them but little. + +Nevertheless, Jules submitted to the demands of the world, knowing +that, sooner or later, a family has need of it; but he and his wife felt +themselves, in its midst, like green-house plants in a tempest. With a +delicacy that was very natural, Jules had concealed from his wife the +calumny and the death of the calumniator. Madame Jules, herself, was +inclined, through her sensitive and artistic nature, to desire luxury. +In spite of the terrible lesson of the duel, some imprudent women +whispered to each other that Madame Jules must sometimes be pressed for +money. They often found her more elegantly dressed in her own home than +when she went into society. She loved to adorn herself to please her +husband, wishing to show him that to her he was more than any social +life. A true love, a pure love, above all, a happy love! Jules, always a +lover, and more in love as time went by, was happy in all things beside +his wife, even in her caprices; in fact, he would have been uneasy if +she had none, thinking it a symptom of some illness. + +Auguste de Maulincour had the personal misfortune of running against +this passion, and falling in love with the wife beyond recovery. +Nevertheless, though he carried in his heart so intense a love, he was +not ridiculous; he complied with all the demands of society, and of +military manners and customs. And yet his face wore constantly, even +though he might be drinking a glass of champagne, that dreamy look, that +air of silently despising life, that nebulous expression which belongs, +though for other reasons, to _blases_ men,--men dissatisfied with hollow +lives. To love without hope, to be disgusted with life, constitute, in +these days, a social position. The enterprise of winning the heart of +a sovereign might give, perhaps, more hope than a love rashly conceived +for a happy woman. Therefore Maulincour had sufficient reason to be +grave and gloomy. A queen has the vanity of her power; the height of her +elevation protects her. But a pious _bourgeoise_ is like a hedgehog, or +an oyster, in its rough wrappings. + +At this moment the young officer was beside his unconscious mistress, +who certainly was unaware that she was doubly faithless. Madame +Jules was seated, in a naive attitude, like the least artful woman in +existence, soft and gentle, full of a majestic serenity. What an abyss +is human nature! Before beginning a conversation, the baron looked +alternately at the wife and at the husband. How many were the +reflections he made! He recomposed the "Night Thoughts" of Young in a +second. And yet the music was sounding through the salons, the light was +pouring from a thousand candles. It was a banker's ball,--one of those +insolent festivals by means of which the world of solid gold endeavored +to sneer at the gold-embossed salons where the faubourg Saint-Germain +met and laughed, not foreseeing the day when the bank would invade the +Luxembourg and take its seat upon the throne. The conspirators were now +dancing, indifferent to coming bankruptcies, whether of Power or of +the Bank. The gilded salons of the Baron de Nucingen were gay with that +peculiar animation that the world of Paris, apparently joyous at any +rate, gives to its fetes. There, men of talent communicate their wit to +fools, and fools communicate that air of enjoyment that characterizes +them. By means of this exchange all is liveliness. But a ball in Paris +always resembles fireworks to a certain extent; wit, coquetry, and +pleasure sparkle and go out like rockets. The next day all present have +forgotten their wit, their coquetry, their pleasure. + +"Ah!" thought Auguste, by way of conclusion, "women are what the vidame +says they are. Certainly all those dancing here are less irreproachable +actually than Madame Jules appears to be, and yet Madame Jules went to +the rue Soly!" + +The rue Soly was like an illness to him; the very word shrivelled his +heart. + +"Madame, do you ever dance?" he said to her. + +"This is the third time you have asked me that question this winter," +she answered, smiling. + +"But perhaps you have never answered it." + +"That is true." + +"I knew very well that you were false, like other women." + +Madame Jules continued to smile. + +"Listen, monsieur," she said; "if I told you the real reason, you would +think it ridiculous. I do not think it false to abstain from telling +things that the world would laugh at." + +"All secrets demand, in order to be told, a friendship of which I am no +doubt unworthy, madame. But you cannot have any but noble secrets; do +you think me capable of jesting on noble things?" + +"Yes," she said, "you, like all the rest, laugh at our purest +sentiments; you calumniate them. Besides, I have no secrets. I have the +right to love my husband in the face of all the world, and I say so,--I +am proud of it; and if you laugh at me when I tell you that I dance only +with him, I shall have a bad opinion of your heart." + +"Have you never danced since your marriage with any one but your +husband?" + +"Never. His arm is the only one on which I have leaned; I have never +felt the touch of another man." + +"Has your physician never felt your pulse?" + +"Now you are laughing at me." + +"No, madame, I admire you, because I comprehend you. But you let a man +hear your voice, you let yourself be seen, you--in short, you permit our +eyes to admire you--" + +"Ah!" she said, interrupting him, "that is one of my griefs. Yes, I wish +it were possible for a married woman to live secluded with her husband, +as a mistress lives with her lover, for then--" + +"Then why were you, two hours ago, on foot, disguised, in the rue Soly?" + +"The rue Soly, where is that?" + +And her pure voice gave no sign of any emotion; no feature of her face +quivered; she did not blush; she remained calm. + +"What! you did not go up to the second floor of a house in the rue +des Vieux-Augustins at the corner of the rue Soly? You did not have +a hackney-coach waiting near by? You did not return in it to the +flower-shop in the rue Richelieu, where you bought the feathers that are +now in your hair?" + +"I did not leave my house this evening." + +As she uttered that lie she was smiling and imperturbable; she played +with her fan; but if any one had passed a hand down her back they would, +perhaps, have found it moist. At that instant Auguste remembered the +instructions of the vidame. + +"Then it was some one who strangely resembled you," he said, with a +credulous air. + +"Monsieur," she replied, "if you are capable of following a woman and +detecting her secrets, you will allow me to say that it is a wrong, a +very wrong thing, and I do you the honor to say that I disbelieve you." + +The baron turned away, placed himself before the fireplace and seemed +thoughtful. He bent his head; but his eyes were covertly fixed on Madame +Jules, who, not remembering the reflections in the mirror, cast two or +three glances at him that were full of terror. Presently she made a sign +to her husband and rising took his arm to walk about the salon. As she +passed before Monsieur de Maulincour, who at that moment was speaking +to a friend, he said in a loud voice, as if in reply to a remark: +"That woman will certainly not sleep quietly this night." Madame +Jules stopped, gave him an imposing look which expressed contempt, +and continued her way, unaware that another look, if surprised by her +husband, might endanger not only her happiness but the lives of two men. +Auguste, frantic with anger, which he tried to smother in the depths of +his soul, presently left the house, swearing to penetrate to the heart +of the mystery. Before leaving, he sought Madame Jules, to look at her +again; but she had disappeared. + +What a drama cast into that young head so eminently romantic, like all +who have not known love in the wide extent which they give to it. He +adored Madame Jules under a new aspect; he loved her now with the fury +of jealousy and the frenzied anguish of hope. Unfaithful to her husband, +the woman became common. Auguste could now give himself up to the +joys of successful love, and his imagination opened to him a career +of pleasures. Yes, he had lost the angel, but he had found the most +delightful of demons. He went to bed, building castles in the air, +excusing Madame Jules by some romantic fiction in which he did not +believe. He resolved to devote himself wholly, from that day forth, to +a search for the causes, motives, and keynote of this mystery. It was a +tale to read, or better still, a drama to be played, in which he had a +part. + + + + +CHAPTER II. FERRAGUS + + +A fine thing is the task of a spy, when performed for one's own benefit +and in the interests of a passion. Is it not giving ourselves the +pleasure of a thief and a rascal while continuing honest men? But there +is another side to it; we must resign ourselves to boil with anger, to +roar with impatience, to freeze our feet in the mud, to be numbed, and +roasted, and torn by false hopes. We must go, on the faith of a mere +indication, to a vague object, miss our end, curse our luck, improvise +to ourselves elegies, dithyrambics, exclaim idiotically before +inoffensive pedestrians who observe us, knock over old apple-women and +their baskets, run hither and thither, stand on guard beneath a window, +make a thousand suppositions. But, after all, it is a chase, a hunt; a +hunt in Paris, a hunt with all its chances, minus dogs and guns and +the tally-ho! Nothing compares with it but the life of gamblers. But +it needs a heart big with love and vengeance to ambush itself in Paris, +like a tiger waiting to spring upon its prey, and to enjoy the chances +and contingencies of Paris, by adding one special interest to the many +that abound there. But for this we need a many-sided soul--for must we +not live in a thousand passions, a thousand sentiments? + +Auguste de Maulincour flung himself into this ardent existence +passionately, for he felt all its pleasures and all its misery. He went +disguised about Paris, watching at the corners of the rue Pagevin and +the rue des Vieux-Augustins. He hurried like a hunter from the rue de +Menars to the rue Soly, and back from the rue Soly to the rue de Menars, +without obtaining either the vengeance or the knowledge which would +punish or reward such cares, such efforts, such wiles. But he had not +yet reached that impatience which wrings our very entrails and makes us +sweat; he roamed in hope, believing that Madame Jules would only refrain +for a few days from revisiting the place where she knew she had been +detected. He devoted the first days therefore, to a careful study of +the secrets of the street. A novice at such work, he dared not question +either the porter or the shoemaker of the house to which Madame Jules +had gone; but he managed to obtain a post of observation in a house +directly opposite to the mysterious apartment. He studied the ground, +trying to reconcile the conflicting demands of prudence, impatience, +love, and secrecy. + +Early in the month of March, while busy with plans by which he expected +to strike a decisive blow, he left his post about four in the afternoon, +after one of those patient watches from which he had learned nothing. +He was on his way to his own house whither a matter relating to +his military service called him, when he was overtaken in the rue +Coquilliere by one of those heavy showers which instantly flood the +gutters, while each drop of rain rings loudly in the puddles of the +roadway. A pedestrian under these circumstances is forced to stop short +and take refuge in a shop or cafe if he is rich enough to pay for +the forced hospitality, or, if in poorer circumstances, under a +_porte-cochere_, that haven of paupers or shabbily dressed persons. Why +have none of our painters ever attempted to reproduce the physiognomies +of a swarm of Parisians, grouped, under stress of weather, in the damp +_porte-cochere_ of a building? First, there's the musing philosophical +pedestrian, who observes with interest all he sees,--whether it be the +stripes made by the rain on the gray background of the atmosphere (a +species of chasing not unlike the capricious threads of spun glass), or +the whirl of white water which the wind is driving like a luminous +dust along the roofs, or the fitful disgorgements of the gutter-pipes, +sparkling and foaming; in short, the thousand nothings to be admired and +studied with delight by loungers, in spite of the porter's broom which +pretends to be sweeping out the gateway. Then there's the talkative +refugee, who complains and converses with the porter while he rests on +his broom like a grenadier on his musket; or the pauper wayfarer, curled +against the wall indifferent to the condition of his rags, long used, +alas, to contact with the streets; or the learned pedestrian who +studies, spells, and reads the posters on the walls without finishing +them; or the smiling pedestrian who makes fun of others to whom some +street fatality has happened, who laughs at the muddy women, and makes +grimaces at those of either sex who are looking from the windows; and +the silent being who gazes from floor to floor; and the working-man, +armed with a satchel or a paper bundle, who is estimating the rain as a +profit or loss; and the good-natured fugitive, who arrives like a shot +exclaiming, "Ah! what weather, messieurs, what weather!" and bows +to every one; and, finally, the true _bourgeois_ of Paris, with his +unfailing umbrella, an expert in showers, who foresaw this particular +one, but would come out in spite of his wife; this one takes a seat in +the porter's chair. According to individual character, each member of +this fortuitous society contemplates the skies, and departs, skipping +to avoid the mud,--because he is in a hurry, or because he sees other +citizens walking along in spite of wind and slush, or because, the +archway being damp and mortally catarrhal, the bed's edge, as the +proverb says, is better than the sheets. Each one has his motive. No one +is left but the prudent pedestrian, the man who, before he sets forth, +makes sure of a scrap of blue sky through the rifting clouds. + +Monsieur de Maulincour took refuge, as we have said, with a whole family +of fugitives, under the porch of an old house, the court-yard of +which looked like the flue of a chimney. The sides of its plastered, +nitrified, and mouldy walls were so covered with pipes and conduits from +all the many floors of its four elevations, that it might have been +said to resemble at that moment the _cascatelles_ of Saint-Cloud. Water +flowed everywhere; it boiled, it leaped, it murmured; it was black, +white, blue, and green; it shrieked, it bubbled under the broom of the +portress, a toothless old woman used to storms, who seemed to bless them +as she swept into the street a mass of scraps an intelligent inventory +of which would have revealed the lives and habits of every dweller +in the house,--bits of printed cottons, tea-leaves, artificial +flower-petals faded and worthless, vegetable parings, papers, scraps of +metal. At every sweep of her broom the old woman bared the soul of the +gutter, that black fissure on which a porter's mind is ever bent. The +poor lover examined this scene, like a thousand others which our heaving +Paris presents daily; but he examined it mechanically, as a man absorbed +in thought, when, happening to look up, he found himself all but nose to +nose with a man who had just entered the gateway. + +In appearance this man was a beggar, but not the Parisian beggar,--that +creation without a name in human language; no, this man formed another +type, while presenting on the outside all the ideas suggested by +the word "beggar." He was not marked by those original Parisian +characteristics which strike us so forcibly in the paupers whom Charlet +was fond of representing, with his rare luck in observation,--coarse +faces reeking of mud, hoarse voices, reddened and bulbous noses, mouths +devoid of teeth but menacing; humble yet terrible beings, in whom a +profound intelligence shining in their eyes seems like a contradiction. +Some of these bold vagabonds have blotched, cracked, veiny skins; their +foreheads are covered with wrinkles, their hair scanty and dirty, like +a wig thrown on a dust-heap. All are gay in their degradation, and +degraded in their joys; all are marked with the stamp of debauchery, +casting their silence as a reproach; their very attitude revealing +fearful thoughts. Placed between crime and beggary they have no +compunctions, and circle prudently around the scaffold without mounting +it, innocent in the midst of crime, and vicious in their innocence. They +often cause a laugh, but they always cause reflection. One represents +to you civilization stunted, repressed; he comprehends everything, the +honor of the galleys, patriotism, virtue, the malice of a vulgar crime, +or the fine astuteness of elegant wickedness. Another is resigned, a +perfect mimer, but stupid. All have slight yearnings after order and +work, but they are pushed back into their mire by society, which makes +no inquiry as to what there may be of great men, poets, intrepid souls, +and splendid organizations among these vagrants, these gypsies of Paris; +a people eminently good and eminently evil--like all the masses who +suffer--accustomed to endure unspeakable woes, and whom a fatal power +holds ever down to the level of the mire. They all have a dream, a hope, +a happiness,--cards, lottery, or wine. + +There was nothing of all this in the personage who now leaned carelessly +against the wall in front of Monsieur de Maulincour, like some fantastic +idea drawn by an artist on the back of a canvas the front of which is +turned to the wall. This tall, spare man, whose leaden visage expressed +some deep but chilling thought, dried up all pity in the hearts of those +who looked at him by the scowling look and the sarcastic attitude which +announced an intention of treating every man as an equal. His face was +of a dirty white, and his wrinkled skull, denuded of hair, bore a vague +resemblance to a block of granite. A few gray locks on either side +of his head fell straight to the collar of his greasy coat, which was +buttoned to the chin. He resembled both Voltaire and Don Quixote; +he was, apparently, scoffing but melancholy, full of disdain and +philosophy, but half-crazy. He seemed to have no shirt. His beard was +long. A rusty black cravat, much worn and ragged, exposed a protuberant +neck deeply furrowed, with veins as thick as cords. A large brown circle +like a bruise was strongly marked beneath his eyes, He seemed to be at +least sixty years old. His hands were white and clean. His boots were +trodden down at the heels, and full of holes. A pair of blue trousers, +mended in various places, were covered with a species of fluff which +made them offensive to the eye. Whether it was that his damp clothes +exhaled a fetid odor, or that he had in his normal condition the "poor +smell" which belongs to Parisian tenements, just as offices, sacristies, +and hospitals have their own peculiar and rancid fetidness, of which +no words can give the least idea, or whether some other reason affected +them, those in the vicinity of this man immediately moved away and +left him alone. He cast upon them and also upon the officer a calm, +expressionless look, the celebrated look of Monsieur de Talleyrand, +a dull, wan glance, without warmth, a species of impenetrable veil, +beneath which a strong soul hides profound emotions and close estimation +of men and things and events. Not a fold of his face quivered. His mouth +and forehead were impassible; but his eyes moved and lowered themselves +with a noble, almost tragic slowness. There was, in fact, a whole drama +in the motion of those withered eyelids. + +The aspect of this stoical figure gave rise in Monsieur de Maulincour +to one of those vagabond reveries which begin with a common question and +end by comprising a world of thought. The storm was past. Monsieur de +Maulincour presently saw no more of the man than the tail of his coat +as it brushed the gate-post, but as he turned to leave his own place +he noticed at his feet a letter which must have fallen from the unknown +beggar when he took, as the baron had seen him take, a handkerchief from +his pocket. The young man picked it up, and read, involuntarily, the +address: "To Monsieur Ferragusse, Rue des Grands-Augustains, corner of +rue Soly." + +The letter bore no postmark, and the address prevented Monsieur de +Maulincour from following the beggar and returning it; for there are few +passions that will not fail in rectitude in the long run. The baron +had a presentiment of the opportunity afforded by this windfall. He +determined to keep the letter, which would give him the right to enter +the mysterious house to return it to the strange man, not doubting that +he lived there. Suspicions, vague as the first faint gleams of daylight, +made him fancy relations between this man and Madame Jules. A jealous +lover supposes everything; and it is by supposing everything and +selecting the most probable of their conjectures that judges, spies, +lovers, and observers get at the truth they are looking for. + +"Is the letter for him? Is it from Madame Jules?" + +His restless imagination tossed a thousand such questions to him; +but when he read the first words of the letter he smiled. Here it +is, textually, in all the simplicity of its artless phrases and its +miserable orthography,--a letter to which it would be impossible to add +anything, or to take anything away, unless it were the letter itself. +But we have yielded to the necessity of punctuating it. In the original +there were neither commas nor stops of any kind, not even notes of +exclamation,--a fact which tends to undervalue the system of notes +and dashes by which modern authors have endeavored to depict the great +disasters of all the passions:-- + + + Henry,--Among the manny sacrifisis I imposed upon myself for your + sake was that of not giving you anny news of me; but an + iresistible voise now compells me to let you know the wrong you + have done me. I know beforehand that your soul hardened in vise + will not pitty me. Your heart is deaf to feeling. Is it deaf to + the cries of nature? But what matter? I must tell you to what a + dredful point you are gilty, and the horror of the position to + which you have brought me. Henry, you knew what I sufered from my + first wrong-doing, and yet you plunged me into the same misery, + and then abbandoned me to my dispair and sufering. Yes, I will say + it, the belif I had that you loved me and esteemed me gave me + corage to bare my fate. But now, what have I left? Have you not + made me loose all that was dear to me, all that held me to life; + parents, frends, onor, reputation,--all, I have sacrifised all to + you, and nothing is left me but shame, oprobrum, and--I say this + without blushing--poverty. Nothing was wanting to my misfortunes + but the sertainty of your contempt and hatred; and now I have them + I find the corage that my project requires. My decision is made; + the onor of my famly commands it. I must put an end to my + suferins. Make no remarks upon my conduct, Henry; it is orful, I + know, but my condition obliges me. Without help, without suport, + without one frend to comfort me, can I live? No. Fate has desided + for me. So in two days, Henry, two days, Ida will have seased to + be worthy of your regard. Oh, Henry! oh, my frend! for I can never + change to you, promise me to forgive me for what I am going to do. + Do not forget that you have driven me to it; it is your work, and + you must judge it. May heven not punish you for all your crimes. I + ask your pardon on my knees, for I feel nothing is wanting to my + misery but the sorow of knowing you unhappy. In spite of the + poverty I am in I shall refuse all help from you. If you had loved + me I would have taken all from your friendship; but a benfit given + by pitty _my soul refussis_. I would be baser to take it than he + who offered it. I have one favor to ask of you. I don't know how + long I must stay at Madame Meynardie's; be genrous enough not to + come there. Your last two vissits did me a harm I cannot get ofer. + I cannot enter into particlers about that conduct of yours. You + hate me,--you said so; that word is writen on my heart, and + freeses it with fear. Alas! it is now, when I need all my corage, + all my strength, that my faculties abandon me. Henry, my frend, + before I put a barrier forever between us, give me a last pruf of + your esteem. Write me, answer me, say you respect me still, though + you have seased to love me. My eyes are worthy still to look into + yours, but I do not ask an interfew; I fear my weakness and my + love. But for pitty's sake write me a line at once; it will give + me the corage I need to meet my trubbles. Farewell, orther of all + my woes, but the only frend my heart has chosen and will never + forget. + +Ida. + + +This life of a young girl, with its love betrayed, its fatal joys, its +pangs, its miseries, and its horrible resignation, summed up in a few +words, this humble poem, essentially Parisian, written on dirty paper, +influenced for a passing moment Monsieur de Maulincour. He asked himself +whether this Ida might not be some poor relation of Madame Jules, and +that strange rendezvous, which he had witnessed by chance, the mere +necessity of a charitable effort. But could that old pauper have seduced +this Ida? There was something impossible in the very idea. Wandering in +this labyrinth of reflections, which crossed, recrossed, and obliterated +one another, the baron reached the rue Pagevin, and saw a hackney-coach +standing at the end of the rue des Vieux-Augustins where it enters the +rue Montmartre. All waiting hackney-coaches now had an interest for him. + +"Can she be there?" he thought to himself, and his heart beat fast with +a hot and feverish throbbing. + +He pushed the little door with the bell, but he lowered his head as he +did so, obeying a sense of shame, for a voice said to him secretly:-- + +"Why are you putting your foot into this mystery?" + +He went up a few steps, and found himself face to face with the old +portress. + +"Monsieur Ferragus?" he said. + +"Don't know him." + +"Doesn't Monsieur Ferragus live here?" + +"Haven't such a name in the house." + +"But, my good woman--" + +"I'm not your good woman, monsieur, I'm the portress." + +"But, madame," persisted the baron, "I have a letter for Monsieur +Ferragus." + +"Ah! if monsieur has a letter," she said, changing her tone, "that's +another matter. Will you let me see it--that letter?" + +Auguste showed the folded letter. The old woman shook her head with a +doubtful air, hesitated, seemed to wish to leave the lodge and inform +the mysterious Ferragus of his unexpected visitor, but finally said:-- + +"Very good; go up, monsieur. I suppose you know the way?" + +Without replying to this remark, which he thought might be a trap, the +young officer ran lightly up the stairway, and rang loudly at the door +of the second floor. His lover's instinct told him, "She is there." + +The beggar of the porch, Ferragus, the "orther" of Ida's woes, opened +the door himself. He appeared in a flowered dressing-gown, white flannel +trousers, his feet in embroidered slippers, and his face washed clean of +stains. Madame Jules, whose head projected beyond the casing of the door +in the next room, turned pale and dropped into a chair. + +"What is the matter, madame?" cried the officer, springing toward her. + +But Ferragus stretched forth an arm and flung the intruder back with so +sharp a thrust that Auguste fancied he had received a blow with an iron +bar full on his chest. + +"Back! monsieur," said the man. "What do you want there? For five or six +days you have been roaming about the neighborhood. Are you a spy?" + +"Are you Monsieur Ferragus?" said the baron. + +"No, monsieur." + +"Nevertheless," continued Auguste, "it is to you that I must return this +paper which you dropped in the gateway beneath which we both took refuge +from the rain." + +While speaking and offering the letter to the man, Auguste did not +refrain from casting an eye around the room where Ferragus received him. +It was very well arranged, though simply. A fire burned on the hearth; +and near it was a table with food upon it, which was served more +sumptuously than agreed with the apparent conditions of the man and the +poorness of his lodging. On a sofa in the next room, which he could +see through the doorway, lay a heap of gold, and he heard a sound which +could be no other than that of a woman weeping. + +"The paper belongs to me; I am much obliged to you," said the mysterious +man, turning away as if to make the baron understand that he must go. + +Too curious himself to take much note of the deep examination of which +he was himself the object, Auguste did not see the half-magnetic glance +with which this strange being seemed to pierce him; had he encountered +that basilisk eye he might have felt the danger that encompassed him. +Too passionately excited to think of himself, Auguste bowed, went +down the stairs, and returned home, striving to find a meaning in the +connection of these three persons,--Ida, Ferragus, and Madame Jules; +an occupation equivalent to that of trying to arrange the many-cornered +bits of a Chinese puzzle without possessing the key to the game. But +Madame Jules had seen him, Madame Jules went there, Madame Jules had +lied to him. Maulincour determined to go and see her the next day. She +could not refuse his visit, for he was now her accomplice; he was hands +and feet in the mysterious affair, and she knew it. Already he +felt himself a sultan, and thought of demanding from Madame Jules, +imperiously, all her secrets. + +In those days Paris was seized with a building-fever. If Paris is +a monster, it is certainly a most mania-ridden monster. It becomes +enamored of a thousand fancies: sometimes it has a mania for building, +like a great seigneur who loves a trowel; soon it abandons the trowel +and becomes all military; it arrays itself from head to foot as a +national guard, and drills and smokes; suddenly, it abandons military +manoeuvres and flings away cigars; it is commercial, care-worn, falls +into bankruptcy, sells its furniture on the place de Chatelet, files its +schedule; but a few days later, lo! it has arranged its affairs and is +giving fetes and dances. One day it eats barley-sugar by the mouthful, +by the handful; yesterday it bought "papier Weymen"; to-day the +monster's teeth ache, and it applies to its walls an alexipharmatic +to mitigate their dampness; to-morrow it will lay in a provision of +pectoral paste. It has its manias for the month, for the season, for the +year, like its manias of a day. + +So, at the moment of which we speak, all the world was building or +pulling down something,--people hardly knew what as yet. There were very +few streets in which high scaffoldings on long poles could not be seen, +fastened from floor to floor with transverse blocks inserted into holes +in the walls on which the planks were laid,--a frail construction, +shaken by the brick-layers, but held together by ropes, white with +plaster, and insecurely protected from the wheels of carriages by the +breastwork of planks which the law requires round all such buildings. +There is something maritime in these masts, and ladders, and cordage, +even in the shouts of the masons. About a dozen yards from the hotel +Maulincour, one of these ephemeral barriers was erected before a house +which was then being built of blocks of free-stone. The day after the +event we have just related, at the moment when the Baron de Maulincour +was passing this scaffolding in his cabriolet on his way to see Madame +Jules, a stone, two feet square, which was being raised to the upper +storey of this building, got loose from the ropes and fell, crushing the +baron's servant who was behind the cabriolet. A cry of horror shook both +the scaffold and the masons; one of them, apparently unable to keep his +grasp on a pole, was in danger of death, and seemed to have been touched +by the stone as it passed him. + +A crowd collected rapidly; the masons came down the ladders swearing +and insisting that Monsieur de Maulincour's cabriolet had been driven +against the boarding and so had shaken their crane. Two inches more and +the stone would have fallen on the baron's head. The groom was dead, +the carriage shattered. 'Twas an event for the whole neighborhood, the +newspapers told of it. Monsieur de Maulincour, certain that he had not +touched the boarding, complained; the case went to court. Inquiry being +made, it was shown that a small boy, armed with a lath, had mounted +guard and called to all foot-passengers to keep away. The affair ended +there. Monsieur de Maulincour obtained no redress. He had lost his +servant, and was confined to his bed for some days, for the back of the +carriage when shattered had bruised him severely, and the nervous shock +of the sudden surprise gave him a fever. He did not, therefore, go to +see Madame Jules. + +Ten days after this event, he left the house for the first time, in his +repaired cabriolet, when, as he drove down the rue de Bourgogne and was +close to the sewer opposite to the Chamber of Deputies, the axle-tree +broke in two, and the baron was driving so rapidly that the breakage +would have caused the two wheels to come together with force enough to +break his head, had it not been for the resistance of the leather hood. +Nevertheless, he was badly wounded in the side. For the second time in +ten days he was carried home in a fainting condition to his terrified +grandmother. This second accident gave him a feeling of distrust; he +thought, though vaguely, of Ferragus and Madame Jules. To throw light on +these suspicions he had the broken axle brought to his room and sent +for his carriage-maker. The man examined the axle and the fracture, +and proved two things: First, the axle was not made in his workshop; he +furnished none that did not bear the initials of his name on the iron. +But he could not explain by what means this axle had been substituted +for the other. Secondly, the breakage of the suspicious axle was caused +by a hollow space having been blown in it and a straw very cleverly +inserted. + +"Eh! Monsieur le baron, whoever did that was malicious!" he said; "any +one would swear, to look at it, that the axle was sound." + +Monsieur de Maulincour begged the carriage-maker to say nothing of the +affair; but he felt himself warned. These two attempts at murder were +planned with an ability which denoted the enmity of intelligent minds. + +"It is war to the death," he said to himself, as he tossed in his +bed,--"a war of savages, skulking in ambush, of trickery and treachery, +declared in the name of Madame Jules. What sort of man is this to whom +she belongs? What species of power does this Ferragus wield?" + +Monsieur de Maulincour, though a soldier and brave man, could not +repress a shudder. In the midst of many thoughts that now assailed him, +there was one against which he felt he had neither defence nor courage: +might not poison be employed ere long by his secret enemies? Under the +influence of fears, which his momentary weakness and fever and low diet +increased, he sent for an old woman long attached to the service of his +grandmother, whose affection for himself was one of those semi-maternal +sentiments which are the sublime of the commonplace. Without confiding +in her wholly, he charged her to buy secretly and daily, in different +localities, the food he needed; telling her to keep it under lock and +key and bring it to him herself, not allowing any one, no matter who, to +approach her while preparing it. He took the most minute precautions to +protect himself against that form of death. He was ill in his bed +and alone, and he had therefore the leisure to think of his own +security,--the one necessity clear-sighted enough to enable human +egotism to forget nothing! + +But the unfortunate man had poisoned his own life by this dread, and, +in spite of himself, suspicion dyed all his hours with its gloomy tints. +These two lessons of attempted assassination did teach him, however, the +value of one of the virtues most necessary to a public man; he saw the +wise dissimulation that must be practised in dealing with the great +interests of life. To be silent about our own secret is nothing; but to +be silent from the start, to forget a fact as Ali Pacha did for thirty +years in order to be sure of a vengeance waited for for thirty years, +is a fine study in a land where there are few men who can keep their +own counsel for thirty days. Monsieur de Maulincour literally lived only +through Madame Jules. He was perpetually absorbed in a sober examination +into the means he ought to employ to triumph in this mysterious struggle +with these mysterious persons. His secret passion for that woman grew +by reason of all these obstacles. Madame Jules was ever there, erect, in +the midst of his thoughts, in the centre of his heart, more seductive by +her presumable vices than by the positive virtues for which he had made +her his idol. + +At last, anxious to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, he thought +he might without danger initiate the vidame into the secrets of his +situation. The old commander loved Auguste as a father loves his wife's +children; he was shrewd, dexterous, and very diplomatic. He listened to +the baron, shook his head, and they both held counsel. The worthy vidame +did not share his young friend's confidence when Auguste declared that +in the time in which they now lived, the police and the government were +able to lay bare all mysteries, and that if it were absolutely necessary +to have recourse to those powers, he should find them most powerful +auxiliaries. + +The old man replied, gravely: "The police, my dear boy, is the most +incompetent thing on this earth, and government the feeblest in all +matters concerning individuals. Neither the police nor the government +can read hearts. What we might reasonably ask of them is to search +for the causes of an act. But the police and the government are both +eminently unfitted for that; they lack, essentially, the personal +interest which reveals all to him who wants to know all. No human power +can prevent an assassin or a poisoner from reaching the heart of a +prince or the stomach of an honest man. Passions are the best police." + +The vidame strongly advised the baron to go to Italy, and from Italy +to Greece, from Greece to Syria, from Syria to Asia, and not to return +until his secret enemies were convinced of his repentance, and would so +make tacit peace with him. But if he did not take that course, then the +vidame advised him to stay in the house, and even in his own room, where +he would be safe from the attempts of this man Ferragus, and not to +leave it until he could be certain of crushing him. + +"We should never touch an enemy until we can be sure of taking his head +off," he said, gravely. + +The old man, however, promised his favorite to employ all the astuteness +with which Heaven had provided him (without compromising any one) +in reconnoitring the enemy's ground, and laying his plans for future +victory. The Commander had in his service a retired Figaro, the wiliest +monkey that ever walked in human form; in earlier days as clever as a +devil, working his body like a galley-slave, alert as a thief, sly as a +woman, but now fallen into the decadence of genius for want of practice +since the new constitution of Parisian society, which has reformed even +the valets of comedy. This Scapin emeritus was attached to his master +as to a superior being; but the shrewd old vidame added a good round +sum yearly to the wages of his former provost of gallantry, +which strengthened the ties of natural affection by the bonds of +self-interest, and obtained for the old gentleman as much care as the +most loving mistress could bestow on a sick friend. It was this pearl +of the old-fashioned comedy-valets, relic of the last century, auxiliary +incorruptible from lack of passions to satisfy, on whom the old vidame +and Monsieur de Maulincour now relied. + +"Monsieur le baron will spoil all," said the great man in livery, when +called into counsel. "Monsieur should eat, drink, and sleep in peace. I +take the whole matter upon myself." + +Accordingly, eight days after the conference, when Monsieur de +Maulincour, perfectly restored to health, was breakfasting with his +grandmother and the vidame, Justin entered to make his report. As soon +as the dowager had returned to her own apartments he said, with that +mock modesty which men of talent are so apt to affect:-- + +"Ferragus is not the name of the enemy who is pursuing Monsieur le +baron. This man--this devil, rather--is called Gratien, Henri, Victor, +Jean-Joseph Bourignard. The Sieur Gratien Bourignard is a former +ship-builder, once very rich, and, above all, one of the handsomest +men of his day in Paris,--a Lovelace, capable of seducing Grandison. +My information stops short there. He has been a simple workman; and the +Companions of the Order of the Devorants did, at one time, elect him as +their chief, under the title of Ferragus XXIII. The police ought to know +that, if the police were instituted to know anything. The man has moved +from the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and now roosts rue Joquelet, where +Madame Jules Desmarets goes frequently to see him; sometimes her +husband, on his way to the Bourse, drives her as far as the rue +Vivienne, or she drives her husband to the Bourse. Monsieur le vidame +knows about these things too well to want me to tell him if it is the +husband who takes the wife, or the wife who takes the husband; but +Madame Jules is so pretty, I'd bet on her. All that I have told you is +positive. Bourignard often plays at number 129. Saving your presence, +monsieur, he's a rogue who loves women, and he has his little ways +like a man of condition. As for the rest, he wins sometimes, disguises +himself like an actor, paints his face to look like anything he chooses, +and lives, I may say, the most original life in the world. I don't doubt +he has a good many lodgings, for most of the time he manages to evade +what Monsieur le vidame calls 'parliamentary investigations.' If +monsieur wishes, he could be disposed of honorably, seeing what his +habits are. It is always easy to get rid of a man who loves women. +However, this capitalist talks about moving again. Have Monsieur le +vidame and Monsieur le baron any other commands to give me?" + +"Justin, I am satisfied with you; don't go any farther in the matter +without my orders, but keep a close watch here, so that Monsieur le +baron may have nothing to fear." + +"My dear boy," continued the vidame, when they were alone, "go back to +your old life, and forget Madame Jules." + +"No, no," said Auguste; "I will never yield to Gratien Bourignard. I +will have him bound hand and foot, and Madame Jules also." + +That evening the Baron Auguste de Maulincour, recently promoted to +higher rank in the company of the Body-Guard of the king, went to a +ball given by Madame la Duchesse de Berry at the Elysee-Bourbon. There, +certainly, no danger could lurk for him; and yet, before he left the +palace, he had an affair of honor on his hands,--an affair it was +impossible to settle except by a duel. + +His adversary, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, considered that he had +strong reasons to complain of Monsieur de Maulincour, who had given some +ground for it during his former intimacy with Monsieur de Ronquerolles' +sister, the Comtesse de Serizy. That lady, the one who detested German +sentimentality, was all the more exacting in the matter of prudery. By +one of those inexplicable fatalities, Auguste now uttered a harmless +jest which Madame de Serizy took amiss, and her brother resented it. The +discussion took place in the corner of a room, in a low voice. In good +society, adversaries never raise their voices. The next day the faubourg +Saint-Germain and the Chateau talked over the affair. Madame de Serizy +was warmly defended, and all the blame was laid on Maulincour. August +personages interfered. Seconds of the highest distinction were imposed +on Messieurs de Maulincour and de Ronquerolles and every precaution was +taken on the ground that no one should be killed. + +When Auguste found himself face to face with his antagonist, a man of +pleasure, to whom no one could possibly deny sentiments of the highest +honor, he felt it was impossible to believe him the instrument of +Ferragus, chief of the Devorants; and yet he was compelled, as it were, +by an inexplicable presentiment, to question the marquis. + +"Messieurs," he said to the seconds, "I certainly do not refuse to +meet the fire of Monsieur de Ronquerolles; but before doing so, I here +declare that I was to blame, and I offer him whatever excuses he may +desire, and publicly if he wishes it; because when the matter concerns a +woman, nothing, I think, can degrade a man of honor. I therefore appeal +to his generosity and good sense; is there not something rather silly in +fighting without a cause?" + +Monsieur de Ronquerolles would not allow of this way of ending the +affair, and then the baron, his suspicions revived, walked up to him. + +"Well, then! Monsieur le marquis," he said, "pledge me, in presence of +these gentlemen, your word as a gentleman that you have no other reason +for vengeance than that you have chosen to put forward." + +"Monsieur, that is a question you have no right to ask." + +So saying, Monsieur de Ronquerolles took his place. It was agreed, in +advance, that the adversaries were to be satisfied with one exchange +of shots. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, in spite of the great distance +determined by the seconds, which seemed to make the death of either +party problematical, if not impossible, brought down the baron. The ball +went through the latter's body just below the heart, but fortunately +without doing vital injury. + +"You aimed too well, monsieur," said the baron, "to be avenging only a +paltry quarrel." + +And he fainted. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, who believed him to be a dead +man, smiled sardonically as he heard those words. + +After a fortnight, during which time the dowager and the vidame gave +him those cares of old age the secret of which is in the hands of long +experience only, the baron began to return to life. But one morning his +grandmother dealt him a crushing blow, by revealing anxieties to which, +in her last days, she was now subjected. She showed him a letter signed +F, in which the history of her grandson's secret espionage was recounted +step by step. The letter accused Monsieur de Maulincour of actions that +were unworthy of a man of honor. He had, it said, placed an old woman +at the stand of hackney-coaches in the rue de Menars; an old spy, who +pretended to sell water from her cask to the coachmen, but who was +really there to watch the actions of Madame Jules Desmarets. He had +spied upon the daily life of a most inoffensive man, in order to detect +his secrets,--secrets on which depended the lives of three persons. He +had brought upon himself a relentless struggle, in which, although he +had escaped with life three times, he must inevitably succumb, because +his death had been sworn and would be compassed if all human means were +employed upon it. Monsieur de Maulincour could no longer escape his fate +by even promising to respect the mysterious life of these three persons, +because it was impossible to believe the word of a gentleman who had +fallen to the level of a police-spy; and for what reason? Merely to +trouble the respectable life of an innocent woman and a harmless old +man. + +The letter itself was nothing to Auguste in comparison to the tender +reproaches of his grandmother. To lack respect to a woman! to spy upon +her actions without a right to do so! Ought a man ever to spy upon +a woman whom he loved?--in short, she poured out a torrent of those +excellent reasons which prove nothing; and they put the young baron, +for the first time in his life, into one of those great human furies in +which are born, and from which issue the most vital actions of a man's +life. + +"Since it is war to the knife," he said in conclusion, "I shall kill my +enemy by any means that I can lay hold of." + +The vidame went immediately, at Auguste's request, to the chief of the +private police of Paris, and without bringing Madame Jules' name or +person into the narrative, although they were really the gist of it, he +made the official aware of the fears of the family of Maulincour about +this mysterious person who was bold enough to swear the death of an +officer of the Guards, in defiance of the law and the police. The chief +pushed up his green spectacles in amazement, blew his nose several +times, and offered snuff to the vidame, who, to save his dignity, +pretended not to use tobacco, although his own nose was discolored with +it. Then the chief took notes and promised, Vidocq and his spies aiding, +to send in a report within a few days to the Maulincour family, assuring +them meantime that there were no secrets for the police of Paris. + +A few days after this the police official called to see the vidame at +the Hotel de Maulincour, where he found the young baron quite recovered +from his last wound. He gave them in bureaucratic style his thanks for +the indications they had afforded him, and told them that Bourignard was +a convict, condemned to twenty years' hard labor, who had miraculously +escaped from a gang which was being transported from Bicetre to Toulon. +For thirteen years the police had been endeavoring to recapture him, +knowing that he had boldly returned to Paris; but so far this convict +had escaped the most active search, although he was known to be mixed up +in many nefarious deeds. However, the man, whose life was full of very +curious incidents, would certainly be captured now in one or other of +his several domiciles and delivered up to justice. The bureaucrat ended +his report by saying to Monsieur de Maulincour that if he attached +enough importance to the matter to wish to witness the capture of +Bourignard, he might come the next day at eight in the morning to a +house in the rue Sainte-Foi, of which he gave him the number. Monsieur +de Maulincour excused himself from going personally in search of +certainty,--trusting, with the sacred respect inspired by the police of +Paris, in the capability of the authorities. + +Three days later, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing in the newspapers +about the projected arrest, which was certainly of enough importance to +have furnished an article, Monsieur de Maulincour was beginning to feel +anxieties which were presently allayed by the following letter:-- + + + Monsieur le Baron,--I have the honor to announce to you that you + need have no further uneasiness touching the affair in question. + The man named Gratien Bourignard, otherwise called Ferragus, died + yesterday, at his lodgings, rue Joquelet No. 7. The suspicions we + naturally conceived as to the identity of the dead body have been + completely set at rest by the facts. The physician of the + Prefecture of police was despatched by us to assist the physician + of the arrondissement, and the chief of the detective police made + all the necessary verifications to obtain absolute certainty. + Moreover, the character of the persons who signed the certificate + of death, and the affidavits of those who took care of the said + Bourignard in his last illness, among others that of the worthy + vicar of the church of the Bonne-Nouvelle (to whom he made his + last confession, for he died a Christian), do not permit us to + entertain any sort of doubt. + +Accept, Monsieur le baron, etc., etc. + + +Monsieur de Maulincour, the dowager, and the vidame breathed again with +joy unspeakable. The good old woman kissed her grandson leaving a tear +upon his cheek, and went away to thank God in prayer. The dear soul, +who was making a novena for Auguste's safety, believed her prayers were +answered. + +"Well," said the vidame, "now you had better show yourself at the ball +you were speaking of. I oppose no further objections." + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE WIFE ACCUSED + + +Monsieur de Maulincour was all the more anxious to go to this ball +because he knew that Madame Jules would be present. The fete was given +by the Prefect of the Seine, in whose salons the two social worlds of +Paris met as on neutral ground. Auguste passed through the rooms without +finding the woman who now exercised so mighty an influence on his fate. +He entered an empty boudoir where card-tables were placed awaiting +players; and sitting down on a divan he gave himself up to the most +contradictory thoughts about her. A man presently took the young officer +by the arm, and looking up the baron was stupefied to behold the pauper +of the rue Coquilliere, the Ferragus of Ida, the lodger in the rue Soly, +the Bourignard of Justin, the convict of the police, and the dead man of +the day before. + +"Monsieur, not a sound, not a word," said Bourignard, whose voice he +recognized. The man was elegantly dressed; he wore the order of the +Golden-Fleece, and a medal on his coat. "Monsieur," he continued, and +his voice was sibilant like that of a hyena, "you increase my efforts +against you by having recourse to the police. You will perish, monsieur; +it has now become necessary. Do you love Madame Jules? Are you beloved +by her? By what right do you trouble her peaceful life, and blacken her +virtue?" + +Some one entered the card-room. Ferragus rose to go. + +"Do you know this man?" asked Monsieur de Maulincour of the new-comer, +seizing Ferragus by the collar. But Ferragus quickly disengaged himself, +took Monsieur de Maulincour by the hair, and shook his head rapidly. + +"Must you have lead in it to make it steady?" he said. + +"I do not know him personally," replied Henri de Marsay, the spectator +of this scene, "but I know that he is Monsieur de Funcal, a rich +Portuguese." + +Monsieur de Funcal had disappeared. The baron followed but without +being able to overtake him until he reached the peristyle, where he +saw Ferragus, who looked at him with a jeering laugh from a brilliant +equipage which was driven away at high speed. + +"Monsieur," said Auguste, re-entering the salon and addressing de +Marsay, whom he knew, "I entreat you to tell me where Monsieur de Funcal +lives." + +"I do not know; but some one here can no doubt tell you." + +The baron, having questioned the prefect, ascertained that the Comte de +Funcal lived at the Portuguese embassy. At this moment, while he still +felt the icy fingers of that strange man in his hair, he saw Madame +Jules in all her dazzling beauty, fresh, gracious, artless, resplendent +with the sanctity of womanhood which had won his love. This creature, +now infernal to him, excited no emotion in his soul but that of hatred; +and this hatred shone in a savage, terrible look from his eyes. He +watched for a moment when he could speak to her unheard, and then he +said:-- + +"Madame, your _bravi_ have missed me three times." + +"What do you mean, monsieur?" she said, flushing. "I know that you +have had several unfortunate accidents lately, which I have greatly +regretted; but how could I have had anything to do with them?" + +"You knew that _bravi_ were employed against me by that man of the rue +Soly?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Madame, I now call you to account, not for my happiness only, but for +my blood--" + +At this instant Jules Desmarets approached them. + +"What are you saying to my wife, monsieur?" + +"Make that inquiry at my own house, monsieur, if you are curious," said +Maulincour, moving away, and leaving Madame Jules in an almost fainting +condition. + +There are few women who have not found themselves, once at least in +their lives, _a propos_ of some undeniable fact, confronted with +a direct, sharp, uncompromising question,--one of those questions +pitilessly asked by husbands, the mere apprehension of which gives +a chill, while the actual words enter the heart like the blade of a +dagger. It is from such crises that the maxim has come, "All women +lie." Falsehood, kindly falsehood, venial falsehood, sublime falsehood, +horrible falsehood,--but always the necessity to lie. This necessity +admitted, ought they not to know how to lie well? French women do it +admirably. Our manners and customs teach them deception! Besides, +women are so naively saucy, so pretty, graceful, and withal so true +in lying,--they recognize so fully the utility of doing so in order +to avoid in social life the violent shocks which happiness might not +resist,--that lying is seen to be as necessary to their lives as the +cotton-wool in which they put away their jewels. Falsehood becomes to +them the foundation of speech; truth is exceptional; they tell it, if +they are virtuous, by caprice or by calculation. According to individual +character, some women laugh when they lie; others weep; others are +grave; some grow angry. After beginning life by feigning indifference +to the homage that deeply flatters them, they often end by lying to +themselves. Who has not admired their apparent superiority to everything +at the very moment when they are trembling for the secret treasures of +their love? Who has never studied their ease, their readiness, their +freedom of mind in the greatest embarrassments of life? In them, nothing +is put on. Deception comes as the snow from heaven. And then, with what +art they discover the truth in others! With what shrewdness they employ +a direct logic in answer to some passionate question which has revealed +to them the secret of the heart of a man who was guileless enough to +proceed by questioning! To question a woman! why, that is delivering +one's self up to her; does she not learn in that way all that we seek to +hide from her? Does she not know also how to be dumb, through speaking? +What men are daring enough to struggle with the Parisian woman?--a woman +who knows how to hold herself above all dagger thrusts, saying: "You are +very inquisitive; what is it to you? Why do you wish to know? Ah! you +are jealous! And suppose I do not choose to answer you?"--in short, a +woman who possesses the hundred and thirty-seven methods of saying _No_, +and incommensurable variations of the word _Yes_. Is not a treatise on +the words _yes_ and _no_, a fine diplomatic, philosophic, logographic, +and moral work, still waiting to be written? But to accomplish this +work, which we may also call diabolic, isn't an androgynous genius +necessary? For that reason, probably, it will never be attempted. And +besides, of all unpublished works isn't it the best known and the best +practised among women? Have you studied the behavior, the pose, the +_disinvoltura_ of a falsehood? Examine it. + +Madame Desmarets was seated in the right-hand corner of her carriage, +her husband in the left. Having forced herself to recover from her +emotion in the ballroom, she now affected a calm demeanor. Her husband +had then said nothing to her, and he still said nothing. Jules looked +out of the carriage window at the black walls of the silent houses +before which they passed; but suddenly, as if driven by a determining +thought, when turning the corner of a street he examined his wife, who +appeared to be cold in spite of the fur-lined pelisse in which she was +wrapped. He thought she seemed pensive, and perhaps she really was +so. Of all communicable things, reflection and gravity are the most +contagious. + +"What could Monsieur de Maulincour have said to affect you so keenly?" +said Jules; "and why does he wish me to go to his house and find out?" + +"He can tell you nothing in his house that I cannot tell you here," she +replied. + +Then, with that feminine craft which always slightly degrades virtue, +Madame Jules waited for another question. Her husband turned his face +back to the houses, and continued his study of their walls. Another +question would imply suspicion, distrust. To suspect a woman is a crime +in love. Jules had already killed a man for doubting his wife. Clemence +did not know all there was of true passion, of loyal reflection, in her +husband's silence; just as Jules was ignorant of the generous drama that +was wringing the heart of his Clemence. + +The carriage rolled on through a silent Paris, bearing the couple,--two +lovers who adored each other, and who, gently leaning on the same +silken cushion, were being parted by an abyss. In these elegant coupes +returning from a ball between midnight and two in the morning, how +many curious and singular scenes must pass,--meaning those coupes with +lanterns, which light both the street and the carriage, those with their +windows unshaded; in short, legitimate coupes, in which couples can +quarrel without caring for the eyes of pedestrians, because the civil +code gives a right to provoke, or beat, or kiss, a wife in a carriage +or elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere! How many secrets must be revealed in +this way to nocturnal pedestrians,--to those young fellows who have gone +to a ball in a carriage, but are obliged, for whatever cause it may be, +to return on foot. It was the first time that Jules and Clemence had +been together thus,--each in a corner; usually the husband pressed close +to his wife. + +"It is very cold," remarked Madame Jules. + +But her husband did not hear her; he was studying the signs above the +shop windows. + +"Clemence," he said at last, "forgive me the question I am about to ask +you." + +He came closer, took her by the waist, and drew her to him. + +"My God, it is coming!" thought the poor woman. "Well," she said aloud, +anticipating the question, "you want to know what Monsieur de Maulincour +said to me. I will tell you, Jules; but not without fear. Good God! how +is it possible that you and I should have secrets from one another? For +the last few moments I have seen you struggling between a conviction of +our love and vague fears. But that conviction is clear within us, is +it not? And these doubts and fears, do they not seem to you dark and +unnatural? Why not stay in that clear light of love you cannot doubt? +When I have told you all, you will still desire to know more; and yet I +myself do not know what the extraordinary words of that man meant. What +I fear is that this may lead to some fatal affair between you. I would +rather that we both forget this unpleasant moment. But, in any case, +swear to me that you will let this singular adventure explain itself +naturally. Here are the facts. Monsieur de Maulincour declared to me +that the three accidents you have heard mentioned--the falling of a +stone on his servant, the breaking down of his cabriolet, and his duel +about Madame de Serizy--were the result of some plot I had laid against +him. He also threatened to reveal to you the cause of my desire to +destroy him. Can you imagine what all this means? My emotion came from +the sight of his face convulsed with madness, his haggard eyes, and also +his words, broken by some violent inward emotion. I thought him mad. +That is all that took place. Now, I should be less than a woman if I had +not perceived that for over a year I have become, as they call it, the +passion of Monsieur de Maulincour. He has never seen me except at a +ball; and our intercourse has been most insignificant,--merely that +which every one shares at a ball. Perhaps he wants to disunite us, so +that he may find me at some future time alone and unprotected. There, +see! already you are frowning! Oh, how cordially I hate society! We were +so happy without him; why take any notice of him? Jules, I entreat you, +forget all this! To-morrow we shall, no doubt, hear that Monsieur de +Maulincour has gone mad." + +"What a singular affair!" thought Jules, as the carriage stopped under +the peristyle of their house. He gave his arm to his wife and together +they went up to their apartments. + +To develop this history in all its truth of detail, and to follow its +course through many windings, it is necessary here to divulge some of +love's secrets, to glide beneath the ceilings of a marriage chamber, not +shamelessly, but like Trilby, frightening neither Dougal nor Jeannie, +alarming no one,--being as chaste as our noble French language requires, +and as bold as the pencil of Gerard in his picture of Daphnis and Chloe. + +The bedroom of Madame Jules was a sacred plot. Herself, her husband, +and her maid alone entered it. Opulence has glorious privileges, and the +most enviable are those which enable the development of sentiments to +their fullest extent,--fertilizing them by the accomplishment of even +their caprices, and surrounding them with a brilliancy that enlarges +them, with refinements that purify them, with a thousand delicacies that +make them still more alluring. If you hate dinners on the grass, and +meals ill-served, if you feel a pleasure in seeing a damask cloth that +is dazzlingly white, a silver-gilt dinner service, and porcelain of +exquisite purity, lighted by transparent candles, where miracles of +cookery are served under silver covers bearing coats of arms, you must, +to be consistent, leave the garrets at the tops of the houses, and the +grisettes in the streets, abandon garrets, grisettes, umbrellas, and +overshoes to men who pay for their dinners with tickets; and you must +also comprehend Love to be a principle which develops in all its grace +only on Savonnerie carpets, beneath the opal gleams of an alabaster +lamp, between guarded walls silk-hung, before gilded hearths in chambers +deadened to all outward sounds by shutters and billowy curtains. Mirrors +must be there to show the play of form and repeat the woman we would +multiply as love itself multiplies and magnifies her; next low +divans, and a bed which, like a secret, is divined, not shown. In this +coquettish chamber are fur-lined slippers for pretty feet, wax-candles +under glass with muslin draperies, by which to read at all hours of the +night, and flowers, not those oppressive to the head, and linen, the +fineness of which might have satisfied Anne of Austria. + +Madame Jules had realized this charming programme, but that was nothing. +All women of taste can do as much, though there is always in the +arrangement of these details a stamp of personality which gives to this +decoration or that detail a character that cannot be imitated. To-day, +more than ever, reigns the fanaticism of individuality. The more our +laws tend to an impossible equality, the more we shall get away from it +in our manners and customs. Thus, rich people are beginning, in France, +to become more exclusive in their tastes and their belongings, than they +have been for the last thirty years. Madame Jules knew very well how +to carry out this programme; and everything about her was arranged in +harmony with a luxury that suits so well with love. Love in a cottage, +or "Fifteen hundred francs and my Sophy," is the dream of starvelings to +whom black bread suffices in their present state; but when love +really comes, they grow fastidious and end by craving the luxuries of +gastronomy. Love holds toil and poverty in horror. It would rather die +than merely live on from hand to mouth. + +Many women, returning from a ball, impatient for their beds, throw off +their gowns, their faded flowers, their bouquets, the fragrance of which +has now departed. They leave their little shoes beneath a chair, the +white strings trailing; they take out their combs and let their hair +roll down as it will. Little they care if their husbands see the puffs, +the hairpins, the artful props which supported the elegant edifices +of the hair, and the garlands or the jewels that adorned it. No more +mysteries! all is over for the husband; no more painting or decoration +for him. The corset--half the time it is a corset of a reparative +kind--lies where it is thrown, if the maid is too sleepy to take it away +with her. The whalebone bustle, the oiled-silk protections round the +sleeves, the pads, the hair bought from a coiffeur, all the false woman +is there, scattered about in open sight. _Disjecta membra poetae_, the +artificial poesy, so much admired by those for whom it is conceived and +elaborated, the fragments of a pretty woman, litter every corner of the +room. To the love of a yawning husband, the actual presents herself, +also yawning, in a dishabille without elegance, and a tumbled night-cap, +that of last night and that of to-morrow night also,--"For really, +monsieur, if you want a pretty cap to rumple every night, increase my +pin-money." + +There's life as it is! A woman makes herself old and unpleasing to her +husband; but dainty and elegant and adorned for others, for the rival of +all husbands,--for that world which calumniates and tears to shreds her +sex. + +Inspired by true love, for Love has, like other creations, its instinct +of preservation, Madame Jules did very differently; she found in the +constant blessing of her love the necessary impulse to fulfil all those +minute personal cares which ought never to be relaxed, because they +perpetuate love. Besides, such personal cares and duties proceed from a +personal dignity which becomes all women, and are among the sweetest of +flatteries, for is it not respecting in themselves the man they love? + +So Madame Jules denied to her husband all access to her dressing-room, +where she left the accessories of her toilet, and whence she issued +mysteriously adorned for the mysterious fetes of her heart. Entering +their chamber, which was always graceful and elegant, Jules found a +woman coquettishly wrapped in a charming _peignoir_, her hair simply +wound in heavy coils around her head; a woman always more simple, more +beautiful there than she was before the world; a woman just refreshed in +water, whose only artifice consisted in being whiter than her muslins, +sweeter than all perfumes, more seductive than any siren, always loving +and therefore always loved. This admirable understanding of a wife's +business was the secret of Josephine's charm for Napoleon, as in former +times it was that of Caesonia for Caius Caligula, of Diane de Poitiers +for Henri II. If it was largely productive to women of seven or eight +lustres what a weapon is it in the hands of young women! A husband +gathers with delight the rewards of his fidelity. + +Returning home after the conversation which had chilled her with fear, +and still gave her the keenest anxiety, Madame Jules took particular +pains with her toilet for the night. She wanted to make herself, and she +did make herself enchanting. She belted the cambric of her dressing-gown +round her waist, defining the lines of her bust; she allowed her hair to +fall upon her beautifully modelled shoulders. A perfumed bath had given +her a delightful fragrance, and her little bare feet were in velvet +slippers. Strong in a sense of her advantages she came in stepping +softly, and put her hands over her husband's eyes. She thought him +pensive; he was standing in his dressing-gown before the fire, his elbow +on the mantel and one foot on the fender. She said in his ear, warming +it with her breath, and nibbling the tip of it with her teeth:-- + +"What are you thinking about, monsieur?" + +Then she pressed him in her arms as if to tear him away from all evil +thoughts. The woman who loves has a full knowledge of her power; the +more virtuous she is, the more effectual her coquetry. + +"About you," he answered. + +"Only about me?" + +"Yes." + +"Ah! that's a very doubtful 'yes.'" + +They went to bed. As she fell asleep, Madame Jules said to herself:-- + +"Monsieur de Maulincour will certainly cause some evil. Jules' mind is +preoccupied, disturbed; he is nursing thoughts he does not tell me." + +It was three in the morning when Madame Jules was awakened by a +presentiment which struck her heart as she slept. She had a sense both +physical and moral of her husband's absence. She did not feel the +arm Jules passed beneath her head,--that arm in which she had slept, +peacefully and happy, for five years; an arm she had never wearied. A +voice said to her, "Jules suffers, Jules is weeping." She raised her +head, and then sat up; felt that her husband's place was cold, and saw +him sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, his head resting +against the back of an arm-chair. Tears were on his cheeks. The poor +woman threw herself hastily from her bed and sprang at a bound to her +husband's knees. + +"Jules! what is it? Are you ill? Speak, tell me! Speak to me, if you +love me!" and she poured out a hundred words expressing the deepest +tenderness. + +Jules knelt at her feet, kissed her hands and knees, and answered with +fresh tears:-- + +"Dear Clemence, I am most unhappy! It is not loving to distrust the +one we love. I adore you and suspect you. The words that man said to me +to-night have struck to my heart; they stay there in spite of myself, +and confound me. There is some mystery here. In short, and I blush to +say it, your explanations do not satisfy me. My reason casts gleams +into my soul which my love rejects. It is an awful combat. Could I +stay there, holding your head, and suspecting thoughts within it to me +unknown? Oh! I believe in you, I believe in you!" he cried, seeing her +smile sadly and open her mouth as if to speak. "Say nothing; do not +reproach me. Besides, could you say anything I have not said myself for +the last three hours? Yes, for three hours, I have been here, watching +you as you slept, so beautiful! admiring that pure, peaceful brow. Yes, +yes! you have always told me your thoughts, have you not? I alone am in +that soul. While I look at you, while my eyes can plunge into yours I +see all plainly. Your life is as pure as your glance is clear. No, there +is no secret behind those transparent eyes." He rose and kissed their +lids. "Let me avow to you, dearest soul," he said, "that for the last +five years each day has increased my happiness, through the knowledge +that you are all mine, and that no natural affection even can take any +of your love. Having no sister, no father, no mother, no companion, I +am neither above nor below any living being in your heart; I am alone +there. Clemence, repeat to me those sweet things of the spirit you have +so often said to me; do not blame me; comfort me, I am so unhappy. I +have an odious suspicion on my conscience, and you have nothing in your +heart to sear it. My beloved, tell me, could I stay there beside you? +Could two heads united as ours have been lie on the same pillow when +one was suffering and the other tranquil? What are you thinking of?" +he cried abruptly, observing that Clemence was anxious, confused, and +seemed unable to restrain her tears. + +"I am thinking of my mother," she answered, in a grave voice. "You +will never know, Jules, what I suffer in remembering my mother's dying +farewell, said in a voice sweeter than all music, and in feeling the +solemn touch of her icy hand at a moment when you overwhelm me with +those assurances of your precious love." + +She raised her husband, strained him to her with a nervous force greater +than that of men, and kissed his hair, covering it with tears. + +"Ah! I would be hacked in pieces for you! Tell me that I make you happy; +that I am to you the most beautiful of women--a thousand women to you. +Oh! you are loved as no other man ever was or will be. I don't know the +meaning of those words 'duty,' 'virtue.' Jules, I love you for yourself; +I am happy in loving you; I shall love you more and more to my dying +day. I have pride in my love; I feel it is my destiny to have one sole +emotion in my life. What I shall tell you now is dreadful, I know--but +I am glad to have no child; I do not wish for any. I feel I am more wife +than mother. Well, then, can you fear? Listen to me, my own beloved, +promise to forget, not this hour of mingled tenderness and doubt, but +the words of that madman. Jules, you _must_. Promise me not to see him, +not to go to him. I have a deep conviction that if you set one foot in +that maze we shall both roll down a precipice where I shall perish--but +with your name upon my lips, your heart in my heart. Why hold me so high +in that heart and yet so low in reality? What! you who give credit to so +many as to money, can you not give me the charity of faith? And on the +first occasion in our lives when you might prove to me your boundless +trust, do you cast me from my throne in your heart? Between a madman +and me, it is the madman whom you choose to believe? oh, Jules!" She +stopped, threw back the hair that fell about her brow and neck, and +then, in a heart-rending tone, she added: "I have said too much; one +word should suffice. If your soul and your forehead still keep this +cloud, however light it be, I tell you now that I shall die of it." + +She could not repress a shudder, and turned pale. + +"Oh! I will kill that man," thought Jules, as he lifted his wife in his +arms and carried her to her bed. + +"Let us sleep in peace, my angel," he said. "I have forgotten all, I +swear it!" + +Clemence fell asleep to the music of those sweet words, softly repeated. +Jules, as he watched her sleeping, said in his heart:-- + +"She is right; when love is so pure, suspicion blights it. To that young +soul, that tender flower, a blight--yes, a blight means death." + +When a cloud comes between two beings filled with affection for each +other and whose lives are in absolute unison, that cloud, though it +may disperse, leaves in those souls a trace of its passage. Either +love gains a stronger life, as the earth after rain, or the shock still +echoes like distant thunder through a cloudless sky. It is impossible +to recover absolutely the former life; love will either increase or +diminish. + +At breakfast, Monsieur and Madame Jules showed to each other those +particular attentions in which there is always something of affectation. +There were glances of forced gaiety, which seemed the efforts of persons +endeavoring to deceive themselves. Jules had involuntary doubts, his +wife had positive fears. Still, sure of each other, they had slept. Was +this strained condition the effect of a want of faith, or was it only a +memory of their nocturnal scene? They did not know themselves. But they +loved each other so purely that the impression of that scene, both cruel +and beneficent, could not fail to leave its traces in their souls; both +were eager to make those traces disappear, each striving to be the first +to return to the other, and thus they could not fail to think of the +cause of their first variance. To loving souls, this is not grief; pain +is still far-off; but it is a sort of mourning, which is difficult to +depict. If there are, indeed, relations between colors and the emotions +of the soul, if, as Locke's blind man said, scarlet produces on the +sight the effect produced upon the hearing by a blast of trumpets, it is +permissible to compare this reaction of melancholy to mourning tones of +gray. + +But even so, love saddened, love in which remains a true sentiment +of its happiness, momentarily troubled though it be, gives enjoyments +derived from pain and pleasure both, which are all novel. Jules studied +his wife's voice; he watched her glances with the freshness of feeling +that inspired him in the earliest days of his passion for her. The +memory of five absolutely happy years, her beauty, the candor of her +love, quickly effaced in her husband's mind the last vestiges of an +intolerable pain. + +The day was Sunday,--a day on which there was no Bourse and no business +to be done. The reunited pair passed the whole day together, getting +farther into each other's hearts than they ever yet had done, like two +children who in a moment of fear, hold each other closely and cling +together, united by an instinct. There are in this life of two-in-one +completely happy days, the gift of chance, ephemeral flowers, born +neither of yesterday nor belonging to the morrow. Jules and Clemence +now enjoyed this day as though they forboded it to be the last of their +loving life. What name shall we give to that mysterious power which +hastens the steps of travellers before the storm is visible; which makes +the life and beauty of the dying so resplendent, and fills the parting +soul with joyous projects for days before death comes; which tells the +midnight student to fill his lamp when it shines brightest; and makes +the mother fear the thoughtful look cast upon her infant by an observing +man? We all are affected by this influence in the great catastrophes of +life; but it has never yet been named or studied; it is something more +than presentiment, but not as yet clear vision. + +All went well till the following day. On Monday, Jules Desmarets, +obliged to go to the Bourse on his usual business, asked his wife, as +usual, if she would take advantage of his carriage and let him drive her +anywhere. + +"No," she said, "the day is too unpleasant to go out." + +It was raining in torrents. At half-past two o'clock Monsieur Desmarets +reached the Treasury. At four o'clock, as he left the Bourse, he came +face to face with Monsieur de Maulincour, who was waiting for him with +the nervous pertinacity of hatred and vengeance. + +"Monsieur," he said, taking Monsieur Desmarets by the arm, "I have +important information to give you. Listen to me. I am too loyal a man to +have recourse to anonymous letters with which to trouble your peace of +mind; I prefer to speak to you in person. Believe me, if my very life +were not concerned, I should not meddle with the private affairs of any +household, even if I thought I had the right to do so." + +"If what you have to say to me concerns Madame Desmarets," replied +Jules, "I request you to be silent, monsieur." + +"If I am silent, monsieur, you may before long see Madame Jules on the +prisoner's bench at the court of assizes beside a convict. Now, do you +wish me to be silent?" + +Jules turned pale; but his noble face instantly resumed its calmness, +though it was now a false calmness. Drawing the baron under one of the +temporary sheds of the Bourse, near which they were standing, he said to +him in a voice which concealed his intense inward emotion:-- + +"Monsieur, I will listen to you; but there will be a duel to the death +between us if--" + +"Oh, to that I consent!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour. "I have the +greatest esteem for your character. You speak of death. You are unaware +that your wife may have assisted in poisoning me last Saturday night. +Yes, monsieur, since then some extraordinary evil has developed in me. +My hair appears to distil an inward fever and a deadly languor through +my skull; I know who clutched my hair at that ball." + +Monsieur de Maulincour then related, without omitting a single fact, his +platonic love for Madame Jules, and the details of the affair in the rue +Soly which began this narrative. Any one would have listened to him with +attention; but Madame Jules' husband had good reason to be more amazed +than any other human being. Here his character displayed itself; he +was more amazed than overcome. Made a judge, and the judge of an +adored woman, he found in his soul the equity of a judge as well as the +inflexibility. A lover still, he thought less of his own shattered life +than of his wife's life; he listened, not to his own anguish, but to +some far-off voice that cried to him, "Clemence cannot lie! Why should +she betray you?" + +"Monsieur," said the baron, as he ended, "being absolutely certain +of having recognized in Monsieur de Funcal the same Ferragus whom the +police declared dead, I have put upon his traces an intelligent man. As +I returned that night I remembered, by a fortunate chance, the name of +Madame Meynardie, mentioned in that letter of Ida, the presumed mistress +of my persecutor. Supplied with this clue, my emissary will soon get to +the bottom of this horrible affair; for he is far more able to discover +the truth than the police themselves." + +"Monsieur," replied Desmarets, "I know not how to thank you for this +confidence. You say that you can obtain proofs and witnesses; I shall +await them. I shall seek the truth of this strange affair courageously; +but you must permit me to doubt everything until the evidence of +the facts you state is proved to me. In any case you shall have +satisfaction, for, as you will certainly understand, we both require +it." + +Jules returned home. + +"What is the matter, Jules?" asked his wife, when she saw him. "You look +so pale you frighten me!" + +"The day is cold," he answered, walking with slow steps across the room +where all things spoke to him of love and happiness,--that room so calm +and peaceful where a deadly storm was gathering. + +"Did you go out to-day?" he asked, as though mechanically. + +He was impelled to ask the question by the last of a myriad of thoughts +which had gathered themselves together into a lucid meditation, though +jealousy was actively prompting them. + +"No," she answered, in a tone that was falsely candid. + +At that instant Jules saw through the open door of the dressing-room the +velvet bonnet which his wife wore in the mornings; on it were drops of +rain. Jules was a passionate man, but he was also full of delicacy. It +was repugnant to him to bring his wife face to face with a lie. When +such a situation occurs, all has come to an end forever between certain +beings. And yet those drops of rain were like a flash tearing through +his brain. + +He left the room, went down to the porter's lodge, and said to the +porter, after making sure that they were alone:-- + +"Fouguereau, a hundred crowns if you tell me the truth; dismissal if you +deceive me; and nothing at all if you ever speak of my question and your +answer." + +He stopped to examine the man's face, leading him under the window. Then +he continued:-- + +"Did madame go out this morning?" + +"Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in +about half an hour ago." + +"That is true, upon your honor?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"You will have the money; but if you speak of this, remember, you will +lose all." + +Jules returned to his wife. + +"Clemence," he said, "I find I must put my accounts in order. Do not be +offended at the inquiry I am going to make. Have I not given you forty +thousand francs since the beginning of the year?" + +"More," she said,--"forty-seven." + +"Have you spent them?" + +"Nearly," she replied. "In the first place, I had to pay several of our +last year's bills--" + +"I shall never find out anything in this way," thought Jules. "I am not +taking the best course." + +At this moment Jules' own valet entered the room with a letter for his +master, who opened it indifferently, but as soon as his eyes had lighted +on the signature he read it eagerly. The letter was as follows:-- + + + Monsieur,--For the sake of your peace of mind as well as ours, I + take the course of writing you this letter without possessing the + advantage of being known to you; but my position, my age, and the + fear of some misfortune compel me to entreat you to show + indulgence in the trying circumstances under which our afflicted + family is placed. Monsieur Auguste de Maulincour has for the last + few days shown signs of mental derangement, and we fear that he + may trouble your happiness by fancies which he confided to + Monsieur le Vidame de Pamiers and myself during his first attack + of frenzy. We think it right, therefore, to warn you of his + malady, which is, we hope, curable; but it will have such serious + and important effects on the honor of our family and the career of + my grandson that we must rely, monsieur, on your entire + discretion. + + If Monsieur le Vidame or I could have gone to see you we would not + have written. But I make no doubt that you will regard this prayer + of a mother, who begs you to destroy this letter. + + Accept the assurance of my perfect consideration. + +Baronne de Maulincour, _nee_ de Rieux. + + +"Oh! what torture!" cried Jules. + +"What is it? what is in your mind?" asked his wife, exhibiting the +deepest anxiety. + +"I have come," he answered, slowly, as he threw her the letter, "to +ask myself whether it can be you who have sent me that to avert my +suspicions. Judge, therefore, what I suffer." + +"Unhappy man!" said Madame Jules, letting fall the paper. "I pity him; +though he has done me great harm." + +"Are you aware that he has spoken to me?" + +"Oh! have you been to see him, in spite of your promise?" she cried in +terror. + +"Clemence, our love is in danger of perishing; we stand outside of the +ordinary rules of life; let us lay aside all petty considerations +in presence of this great peril. Explain to me why you went out this +morning. Women think they have the right to tell us little falsehoods. +Sometimes they like to hide a pleasure they are preparing for us. Just +now you said a word to me, by mistake, no doubt, a no for a yes." + +He went into the dressing-room and brought out the bonnet. + +"See," he said, "your bonnet has betrayed you; these spots are +raindrops. You must, therefore, have gone out in a street cab, and these +drops fell upon it as you went to find one, or as you entered or left +the house where you went. But a woman can leave her own home for many +innocent purposes, even after she has told her husband that she did +not mean to go out. There are so many reasons for changing our plans! +Caprices, whims, are they not your right? Women are not required to be +consistent with themselves. You had forgotten something,--a service +to render, a visit, some kind action. But nothing hinders a woman from +telling her husband what she does. Can we ever blush on the breast of a +friend? It is not a jealous husband who speaks to you, my Clemence; it +is your lover, your friend, your brother." He flung himself passionately +at her feet. "Speak, not to justify yourself, but to calm my horrible +sufferings. I know that you went out. Well--what did you do? where did +you go?" + +"Yes, I went out, Jules," she answered in a strained voice, though her +face was calm. "But ask me nothing more. Wait; have confidence; without +which you will lay up for yourself terrible remorse. Jules, my Jules, +trust is the virtue of love. I owe to you that I am at this moment too +troubled to answer you: but I am not a false woman; I love you, and you +know it." + +"In the midst of all that can shake the faith of man and rouse his +jealousy, for I see I am not first in your heart, I am no longer thine +own self--well, Clemence, even so, I prefer to believe you, to believe +that voice, to believe those eyes. If you deceive me, you deserve--" + +"Ten thousand deaths!" she cried, interrupting him. + +"I have never hidden a thought from you, but you--" + +"Hush!" she said, "our happiness depends upon our mutual silence." + +"Ha! I _will_ know all!" he exclaimed, with sudden violence. + +At that moment the cries of a woman were heard,--the yelping of a shrill +little voice came from the antechamber. + +"I tell you I will go in!" it cried. "Yes, I shall go in; I will see +her! I shall see her!" + +Jules and Clemence both ran to the salon as the door from the +antechamber was violently burst open. A young woman entered hastily, +followed by two servants, who said to their master:-- + +"Monsieur, this person would come in in spite of us. We told her that +madame was not at home. She answered that she knew very well madame had +been out, but she saw her come in. She threatened to stay at the door of +the house till she could speak to madame." + +"You can go," said Monsieur Desmarets to the two men. "What do you want, +mademoiselle?" he added, turning to the strange woman. + +This "demoiselle" was the type of a woman who is never to be met with +except in Paris. She is made in Paris, like the mud, like the pavement, +like the water of the Seine, such as it becomes in Paris before human +industry filters it ten times ere it enters the cut-glass decanters and +sparkles pure and bright from the filth it has been. She is therefore a +being who is truly original. Depicted scores of times by the painter's +brush, the pencil of the caricaturist, the charcoal of the etcher, she +still escapes analysis, because she cannot be caught and rendered in all +her moods, like Nature, like this fantastic Paris itself. She holds to +vice by one thread only, and she breaks away from it at a thousand other +points of the social circumference. Besides, she lets only one trait +of her character be known, and that the only one which renders her +blamable; her noble virtues are hidden; she prefers to glory in her +naive libertinism. Most incompletely rendered in dramas and tales where +she is put upon the scene with all her poesy, she is nowhere really +true but in her garret; elsewhere she is invariably calumniated or +over-praised. Rich, she deteriorates; poor, she is misunderstood. She +has too many vices, and too many good qualities; she is too near to +pathetic asphyxiation or to a dissolute laugh; too beautiful and too +hideous. She personifies Paris, to which, in the long run, she supplies +the toothless portresses, washerwomen, street-sweepers, beggars, +occasionally insolent countesses, admired actresses, applauded singers; +she has even given, in the olden time, two quasi-queens to the monarchy. +Who can grasp such a Proteus? She is all woman, less than woman, more +than woman. From this vast portrait the painter of manners and morals +can take but a feature here and there; the _ensemble_ is infinite. + +She was a grisette of Paris; a grisette in all her glory; a grisette +in a hackney-coach,--happy, young, handsome, fresh, but a grisette; a +grisette with claws, scissors, impudent as a Spanish woman, snarling as +a prudish English woman proclaiming her conjugal rights, coquettish as +a great lady, though more frank, and ready for everything; a perfect +_lionne_ in her way; issuing from the little apartment of which she +had dreamed so often, with its red-calico curtains, its Utrecht velvet +furniture, its tea-table, the cabinet of china with painted designs, the +sofa, the little moquette carpet, the alabaster clock and candlesticks +(under glass cases), the yellow bedroom, the eider-down quilt,--in +short, all the domestic joys of a grisette's life; and in addition, +the woman-of-all-work (a former grisette herself, now the owner of a +moustache), theatre-parties, unlimited bonbons, silk dresses, bonnets to +spoil,--in fact, all the felicities coveted by the grisette heart except +a carriage, which only enters her imagination as a marshal's baton into +the dreams of a soldier. Yes, this grisette had all these things in +return for a true affection, or in spite of a true affection, as some +others obtain it for an hour a day,--a sort of tax carelessly paid under +the claws of an old man. + +The young woman who now entered the presence of Monsieur and Madame +Jules had a pair of feet so little covered by her shoes that only a slim +black line was visible between the carpet and her white stockings. This +peculiar foot-gear, which Parisian caricaturists have well-rendered, +is a special attribute of the grisette of Paris; but she is even more +distinctive to the eyes of an observer by the care with which her +garments are made to adhere to her form, which they clearly define. +On this occasion she was trigly dressed in a green gown, with a white +chemisette, which allowed the beauty of her bust to be seen; her shawl, +of Ternaux cashmere, had fallen from her shoulders, and was held by its +two corners, which were twisted round her wrists. She had a delicate +face, rosy cheeks, a white skin, sparkling gray eyes, a round, very +promising forehead, hair carefully smoothed beneath her little bonnet, +and heavy curls upon her neck. + +"My name is Ida," she said, "and if that's Madame Jules to whom I have +the advantage of speaking, I've come to tell her all I have in my +heart against her. It is very wrong, when a woman is set up and in her +furniture, as you are here, to come and take from a poor girl a man +with whom I'm as good as married, morally, and who did talk of making it +right by marrying me before the municipality. There's plenty of handsome +young men in the world--ain't there, monsieur?--to take your fancy, +without going after a man of middle age, who makes my happiness. Yah! I +haven't got a fine hotel like this, but I've got my love, I have. I hate +handsome men and money; I'm all heart, and--" + +Madame Jules turned to her husband. + +"You will allow me, monsieur, to hear no more of all this," she said, +retreating to her bedroom. + +"If the lady lives with you, I've made a mess of it; but I can't help +that," resumed Ida. "Why does she come after Monsieur Ferragus every +day?" + +"You are mistaken, mademoiselle," said Jules, stupefied; "my wife is +incapable--" + +"Ha! so you're married, you two," said the grisette showing some +surprise. "Then it's very wrong, monsieur,--isn't it?--for a woman who +has the happiness of being married in legal marriage to have relations +with a man like Henri--" + +"Henri! who is Henri?" said Jules, taking Ida by the arm and pulling her +into an adjoining room that his wife might hear no more. + +"Why, Monsieur Ferragus." + +"But he is dead," said Jules. + +"Nonsense; I went to Franconi's with him last night, and he brought me +home--as he ought. Besides, your wife can tell you about him; didn't +she go there this very afternoon at three o'clock? I know she did, for +I waited in the street, and saw her,--all because that good-natured +fellow, Monsieur Justin, whom you know perhaps,--a little old man with +jewelry who wears corsets,--told me that Madame Jules was my rival. That +name, monsieur, sounds mighty like a feigned one; but if it is yours, +excuse me. But this I say, if Madame Jules was a court duchess, Henri is +rich enough to satisfy all her fancies, and it is my business to protect +my property; I've a right to, for I love him, that I do. He is my +_first_ inclination; my happiness and all my future fate depends on +it. I fear nothing, monsieur; I am honest; I never lied, or stole the +property of any living soul, no matter who. If an empress was my rival, +I'd go straight to her, empress as she was; because all pretty women are +equals, monsieur--" + +"Enough! enough!" said Jules. "Where do you live?" + +"Rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14, monsieur,--Ida Gruget, +corset-maker, at your service,--for we make lots of corsets for men." + +"Where does the man whom you call Ferragus live?" + +"Monsieur," she said, pursing up her lips, "in the first place, he's not +a man; he is a rich monsieur, much richer, perhaps, than you are. But +why do you ask me his address when your wife knows it? He told me not +to give it. Am I obliged to answer you? I'm not, thank God, in a +confessional or a police-court; I'm responsible only to myself." + +"If I were to offer you ten thousand francs to tell me where Monsieur +Ferragus lives, how then?" + +"Ha! n, o, _no_, my little friend, and that ends the matter," she said, +emphasizing this singular reply with a popular gesture. "There's no +sum in the world could make me tell you. I have the honor to bid you +good-day. How do I get out of here?" + +Jules, horror-struck, allowed her to go without further notice. The +whole world seemed to crumble beneath his feet, and above him the +heavens were falling with a crash. + +"Monsieur is served," said his valet. + +The valet and the footman waited in the dining-room a quarter of an hour +without seeing master or mistress. + +"Madame will not dine to-day," said the waiting-maid, coming in. + +"What's the matter, Josephine?" asked the valet. + +"I don't know," she answered. "Madame is crying, and is going to bed. +Monsieur has no doubt got some love-affair on hand, and it has been +discovered at a very bad time. I wouldn't answer for madame's life. Men +are so clumsy; they'll make you scenes without any precaution." + +"That's not so," said the valet, in a low voice. "On the contrary, +madame is the one who--you understand? What times does monsieur have to +go after pleasures, he, who hasn't slept out of madame's room for five +years, who goes to his study at ten and never leaves it till breakfast, +at twelve. His life is all known, it is regular; whereas madame goes out +nearly every day at three o'clock, Heaven knows where." + +"And monsieur too," said the maid, taking her mistress's part. + +"Yes, but he goes straight to the Bourse. I told him three times that +dinner was ready," continued the valet, after a pause. "You might as +well talk to a post." + +Monsieur Jules entered the dining-room. + +"Where is madame?" he said. + +"Madame is going to bed; her head aches," replied the maid, assuming an +air of importance. + +Monsieur Jules then said to the footmen composedly: "You can take away; +I shall go and sit with madame." + +He went to his wife's room and found her weeping, but endeavoring to +smother her sobs with her handkerchief. + +"Why do you weep?" said Jules; "you need expect no violence and no +reproaches from me. Why should I avenge myself? If you have not been +faithful to my love, it is that you were never worthy of it." + +"Not worthy?" The words were repeated amid her sobs and the accent in +which they were said would have moved any other man than Jules. + +"To kill you, I must love more than perhaps I do love you," he +continued. "But I should never have the courage; I would rather kill +myself, leaving you to your--happiness, and with--whom!--" + +He did not end his sentence. + +"Kill yourself!" she cried, flinging herself at his feet and clasping +them. + +But he, wishing to escape the embrace, tried to shake her off, dragging +her in so doing toward the bed. + +"Let me alone," he said. + +"No, no, Jules!" she cried. "If you love me no longer I shall die. Do +you wish to know all?" + +"Yes." + +He took her, grasped her violently, and sat down on the edge of the bed, +holding her between his legs. Then, looking at that beautiful face now +red as fire and furrowed with tears,-- + +"Speak," he said. + +Her sobs began again. + +"No; it is a secret of life and death. If I tell it, I--No, I cannot. +Have mercy, Jules!" + +"You have betrayed me--" + +"Ah! Jules, you think so now, but soon you will know all." + +"But this Ferragus, this convict whom you go to see, a man enriched by +crime, if he does not belong to you, if you do not belong to him--" + +"Oh, Jules!" + +"Speak! Is he your mysterious benefactor?--the man to whom we owe our +fortune, as persons have said already?" + +"Who said that?" + +"A man whom I killed in a duel." + +"Oh, God! one death already!" + +"If he is not your protector, if he does not give you money, if it +is you, on the contrary, who carry money to him, tell me, is he your +brother?" + +"What if he were?" she said. + +Monsieur Desmarets crossed his arms. + +"Why should that have been concealed from me?" he said. "Then you and +your mother have both deceived me? Besides, does a woman go to see her +brother every day, or nearly every day?" + +His wife had fainted at his feet. + +"Dead," he said. "And suppose I am mistaken?" + +He sprang to the bell-rope; called Josephine, and lifted Clemence to the +bed. + +"I shall die of this," said Madame Jules, recovering consciousness. + +"Josephine," cried Monsieur Desmarets. "Send for Monsieur Desplein; send +also to my brother and ask him to come here immediately." + +"Why your brother?" asked Clemence. + +But Jules had already left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. WHERE GO TO DIE? + + +For the first time in five years Madame Jules slept alone in her bed, +and was compelled to admit a physician into that sacred chamber. These +in themselves were two keen pangs. Desplein found Madame Jules very +ill. Never was a violent emotion more untimely. He would say nothing +definite, and postponed till the morrow giving any opinion, after +leaving a few directions, which were not executed, the emotions of the +heart causing all bodily cares to be forgotten. + +When morning dawned, Clemence had not yet slept. Her mind was absorbed +in the low murmur of a conversation which lasted several hours between +the brothers; but the thickness of the walls allowed no word which could +betray the object of this long conference to reach her ears. Monsieur +Desmarets, the notary, went away at last. The stillness of the night, +and the singular activity of the senses given by powerful emotion, +enabled Clemence to distinguish the scratching of a pen and the +involuntary movements of a person engaged in writing. Those who are +habitually up at night, and who observe the different acoustic effects +produced in absolute silence, know that a slight echo can be readily +perceived in the very places where louder but more equable and continued +murmurs are not distinct. At four o'clock the sound ceased. Clemence +rose, anxious and trembling. Then, with bare feet and without a wrapper, +forgetting her illness and her moist condition, the poor woman opened +the door softly without noise and looked into the next room. She saw her +husband sitting, with a pen in his hand, asleep in his arm-chair. The +candles had burned to the sockets. She slowly advanced and read on an +envelope, already sealed, the words, "This is my will." + +She knelt down as if before an open grave and kissed her husband's hand. +He woke instantly. + +"Jules, my friend, they grant some days to criminals condemned to +death," she said, looking at him with eyes that blazed with fever and +with love. "Your innocent wife asks only two. Leave me free for two +days, and--wait! After that, I shall die happy--at least, you will +regret me." + +"Clemence, I grant them." + +Then, as she kissed her husband's hands in the tender transport of her +heart, Jules, under the spell of that cry of innocence, took her in his +arms and kissed her forehead, though ashamed to feel himself still under +subjection to the power of that noble beauty. + +On the morrow, after taking a few hours' rest, Jules entered his wife's +room, obeying mechanically his invariable custom of not leaving the +house without a word to her. Clemence was sleeping. A ray of light +passing through a chink in the upper blind of a window fell across the +face of the dejected woman. Already suffering had impaired her forehead +and the freshness of her lips. A lover's eye could not fail to notice +the appearance of dark blotches, and a sickly pallor in place of +the uniform tone of the cheeks and the pure ivory whiteness of the +skin,--two points at which the sentiments of her noble soul were +artlessly wont to show themselves. + +"She suffers," thought Jules. "Poor Clemence! May God protect us!" + +He kissed her very softly on the forehead. She woke, saw her husband, +and remembered all. Unable to speak, she took his hand, her eyes filling +with tears. + +"I am innocent," she said, ending her dream. + +"You will not go out to-day, will you?" asked Jules. + +"No, I feel too weak to leave my bed." + +"If you should change your mind, wait till I return," said Jules. + +Then he went down to the porter's lodge. + +"Fouguereau, you will watch the door yourself to-day. I wish to know +exactly who comes to the house, and who leaves it." + +Then he threw himself into a hackney-coach, and was driven to the hotel +de Maulincour, where he asked for the baron. + +"Monsieur is ill," they told him. + +Jules insisted on entering, and gave his name. If he could not see the +baron, he wished to see the vidame or the dowager. He waited some time +in the salon, where Madame de Maulincour finally came to him and told +him that her grandson was much too ill to receive him. + +"I know, madame, the nature of his illness from the letter you did me +the honor to write, and I beg you to believe--" + +"A letter to you, monsieur, written by me!" cried the dowager, +interrupting him. "I have written you no letter. What was I made to say +in that letter, monsieur?" + +"Madame," replied Jules, "intending to see Monsieur de Maulincour +to-day, I thought it best to preserve the letter in spite of its +injunction to destroy it. There it is." + +Madame de Maulincour put on her spectacles, and the moment she cast her +eyes on the paper she showed the utmost surprise. + +"Monsieur," she said, "my writing is so perfectly imitated that, if the +matter were not so recent, I might be deceived myself. My grandson is +ill, it is true; but his reason has never for a moment been affected. We +are the puppets of some evil-minded person or persons; and yet I cannot +imagine the object of a trick like this. You shall see my grandson, +monsieur, and you will at once perceive that he is perfectly sound in +mind." + +She rang the bell, and sent to ask if the baron felt able to receive +Monsieur Desmarets. The servant returned with an affirmative answer. +Jules went to the baron's room, where he found him in an arm-chair near +the fire. Too feeble to move, the unfortunate man merely bowed his head +with a melancholy gesture. The Vidame de Pamiers was sitting with him. + +"Monsieur le baron," said Jules, "I have something to say which makes it +desirable that I should see you alone." + +"Monsieur," replied Auguste, "Monsieur le vidame knows about this +affair; you can speak fearlessly before him." + +"Monsieur le baron," said Jules, in a grave voice, "you have troubled +and well-nigh destroyed my happiness without having any right to do so. +Until the moment when we can see clearly which of us should demand, or +grant, reparation to the other, you are bound to help me in following +the dark and mysterious path into which you have flung me. I have now +come to ascertain from you the present residence of the extraordinary +being who exercises such a baneful effect on your life and mine. On my +return home yesterday, after listening to your avowals, I received that +letter." + +Jules gave him the forged letter. + +"This Ferragus, this Bourignard, or this Monsieur de Funcal, is a +demon!" cried Maulincour, after having read it. "Oh, what a frightful +maze I put my foot into when I meddled in this matter! Where am I going? +I did wrong, monsieur," he continued, looking at Jules; "but death is +the greatest of all expiations, and my death is now approaching. You can +ask me whatever you like; I am at your orders." + +"Monsieur, you know, of course, where this man is living, and I must +know it if it costs me all my fortune to penetrate this mystery. In +presence of so cruel an enemy every moment is precious." + +"Justin shall tell you all," replied the baron. + +At these words the vidame fidgeted on his chair. Auguste rang the bell. + +"Justin is not in the house!" cried the vidame, in a hasty manner that +told much. + +"Well, then," said Auguste, excitedly, "the other servants must know +where he is; send a man on horseback to fetch him. Your valet is in +Paris, isn't he? He can be found." + +The vidame was visibly distressed. + +"Justin can't come, my dear boy," said the old man; "he is dead. I +wanted to conceal the accident from you, but--" + +"Dead!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour,--"dead! When and how?" + +"Last night. He had been supping with some old friends, and, I dare say, +was drunk; his friends--no doubt they were drunk, too--left him lying in +the street, and a heavy vehicle ran over him." + +"The convict did not miss _him_; at the first stroke he killed," said +Auguste. "He has had less luck with me; it has taken four blows to put +me out of the way." + +Jules was gloomy and thoughtful. + +"Am I to know nothing, then?" he cried, after a long pause. "Your valet +seems to have been justly punished. Did he not exceed your orders in +calumniating Madame Desmarets to a person named Ida, whose jealousy he +roused in order to turn her vindictiveness upon us?" + +"Ah, monsieur! in my anger I informed him about Madame Jules," said +Auguste. + +"Monsieur!" cried the husband, keenly irritated. + +"Oh, monsieur!" replied the baron, claiming silence by a gesture, "I am +prepared for all. You cannot tell me anything my own conscience has +not already told me. I am now expecting the most celebrated of all +professors of toxicology, in order to learn my fate. If I am destined +to intolerable suffering, my resolution is taken. I shall blow my brains +out." + +"You talk like a child!" cried the vidame, horrified by the coolness +with which the baron said these words. "Your grandmother would die of +grief." + +"Then, monsieur," said Jules, "am I to understand that there exist +no means of discovering in what part of Paris this extraordinary man +resides?" + +"I think, monsieur," said the old vidame, "from what I have heard poor +Justin say, that Monsieur de Funcal lives at either the Portuguese or +the Brazilian embassy. Monsieur de Funcal is a nobleman belonging to +both those countries. As for the convict, he is dead and buried. Your +persecutor, whoever he is, seems to me so powerful that it would be +well to take no decisive measures until you are sure of some way of +confounding and crushing him. Act prudently and with caution, my dear +monsieur. Had Monsieur de Maulincour followed my advice, nothing of all +this would have happened." + +Jules coldly but politely withdrew. He was now at a total loss to know +how to reach Ferragus. As he passed into his own house, the porter told +him that Madame had just been out to throw a letter into the post box +at the head of the rue de Menars. Jules felt humiliated by this proof of +the insight with which the porter espoused his cause, and the cleverness +by which he guessed the way to serve him. The eagerness of servants, and +their shrewdness in compromising masters who compromised themselves, +was known to him, and he fully appreciated the danger of having them as +accomplices, no matter for what purpose. But he could not think of his +personal dignity until the moment when he found himself thus suddenly +degraded. What a triumph for the slave who could not raise himself to +his master, to compel his master to come down to his level! Jules was +harsh and hard to him. Another fault. But he suffered so deeply! His +life till then so upright, so pure, was becoming crafty; he was to +scheme and lie. Clemence was scheming and lying. This to him was a +moment of horrible disgust. Lost in a flood of bitter feelings, Jules +stood motionless at the door of his house. Yielding to despair, he +thought of fleeing, of leaving France forever, carrying with him the +illusions of uncertainty. Then, again, not doubting that the letter +Clemence had just posted was addressed to Ferragus, his mind searched +for a means of obtaining the answer that mysterious being was certain +to send. Then his thoughts began to analyze the singular good fortune +of his life since his marriage, and he asked himself whether the calumny +for which he had taken such signal vengeance was not a truth. Finally, +reverting to the coming answer, he said to himself:-- + +"But this man, so profoundly capable, so logical in his every act, who +sees and foresees, who calculates, and even divines, our very thoughts, +is he likely to make an answer? Will he not employ some other means more +in keeping with his power? He may send his answer by some beggar; or in +a carton brought by an honest man, who does not suspect what he brings; +or in some parcel of shoes, which a shop-girl may innocently deliver to +my wife. If Clemence and he have agreed upon such means--" + +He distrusted all things; his mind ran over vast tracts and shoreless +oceans of conjecture. Then, after floating for a time among a thousand +contradictory ideas, he felt he was strongest in his own house, and he +resolved to watch it as the ant-lion watches his sandy labyrinth. + +"Fouguereau," he said to the porter, "I am not at home to any one who +comes to see me. If any one calls to see madame, or brings her anything, +ring twice. Bring all letters addressed here to me, no matter for whom +they are intended." + +"Thus," thought he, as he entered his study, which was in the entresol, +"I forestall the schemes of this Ferragus. If he sends some one to ask +for me so as to find out if Clemence is alone, at least I shall not be +tricked like a fool." + +He stood by the window of his study, which looked upon the street, +and then a final scheme, inspired by jealousy, came into his mind. He +resolved to send his head-clerk in his own carriage to the Bourse with +a letter to another broker, explaining his sales and purchases and +requesting him to do his business for that day. He postponed his more +delicate transactions till the morrow, indifferent to the fall or +rise of stocks or the debts of all Europe. High privilege of love!--it +crushes all things, all interests fall before it: altar, throne, +consols! + +At half-past three, just the hour at which the Bourse is in full blast +of reports, monthly settlements, premiums, etc., Fouguereau entered the +study, quite radiant with his news. + +"Monsieur, an old woman has come, but very cautiously; I think she's a +sly one. She asked for monsieur, and seemed much annoyed when I told her +he was out; then she gave me a letter for madame, and here it is." + +Fevered with anxiety, Jules opened the letter; then he dropped into a +chair, exhausted. The letter was mere nonsense throughout, and needed a +key. It was virtually in cipher. + +"Go away, Fouguereau." The porter left him. "It is a mystery deeper than +the sea below the plummet line! Ah! it must be love; love only is so +sagacious, so inventive as this. Ah! I shall kill her." + +At this moment an idea flashed through his brain with such force that +he felt almost physically illuminated by it. In the days of his toilsome +poverty before his marriage, Jules had made for himself a true friend. +The extreme delicacy with which he had managed the susceptibilities of a +man both poor and modest; the respect with which he had surrounded him; +the ingenious cleverness he had employed to nobly compel him to share +his opulence without permitting it to make him blush, increased their +friendship. Jacquet continued faithful to Desmarets in spite of his +wealth. + +Jacquet, a nobly upright man, a toiler, austere in his morals, had +slowly made his way in that particular ministry which develops both +honesty and knavery at the same time. A clerk in the ministry of Foreign +Affairs, he had charge of the most delicate division of its archives. +Jacquet in that office was like a glow-worm, casting his light upon +those secret correspondences, deciphering and classifying despatches. +Ranking higher than a mere _bourgeois_, his position at the ministry was +superior to that of the other subalterns. He lived obscurely, glad +to feel that such obscurity sheltered him from reverses and +disappointments, and was satisfied to humbly pay in the lowest coin +his debt to the country. Thanks to Jules, his position had been much +ameliorated by a worthy marriage. An unrecognized patriot, a minister in +actual fact, he contented himself with groaning in his chimney-corner at +the course of the government. In his own home, Jacquet was an easy-going +king,--an umbrella-man, as they say, who hired a carriage for his +wife which he never entered himself. In short, to end this sketch of a +philosopher unknown to himself, he had never suspected and never in +all his life would suspect the advantages he might have drawn from +his position,--that of having for his intimate friend a broker, and of +knowing every morning all the secrets of the State. This man, sublime +after the manner of that nameless soldier who died in saving Napoleon by +a "qui vive," lived at the ministry. + +In ten minutes Jules was in his friend's office. Jacquet gave him a +chair, laid aside methodically his green silk eye-shade, rubbed his +hands, picked up his snuff-box, rose, stretched himself till his +shoulder-blades cracked, swelled out his chest, and said:-- + +"What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?" + +"Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret,--a secret of life and death." + +"It doesn't concern politics?" + +"If it did, I shouldn't come to you for information," said Jules. +"No, it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely +silent." + +"Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession. Don't you know me by this +time?" he said, laughing. "Discretion is my lot." + +Jules showed him the letter. + +"You must read me this letter, addressed to my wife." + +"The deuce! the deuce! a bad business!" said Jacquet, examining the +letter as a usurer examines a note to be negotiated. "Ha! that's a +gridiron letter! Wait a minute." + +He left Jules alone for a moment, but returned immediately. + +"Easy enough to read, my friend! It is written on the gridiron plan, +used by the Portuguese minister under Monsieur de Choiseul, at the time +of the dismissal of the Jesuits. Here, see!" + +Jacquet placed upon the writing a piece of paper cut out in regular +squares, like the paper laces which confectioners wrap round their +sugarplums; and Jules then read with perfect ease the words that were +visible in the interstices. They were as follows:-- + + "Don't be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be + troubled; and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions. + However ill you may be, you must have the courage to come here + to-morrow; find strength in your love for me. Mine for you has + induced me to submit to a cruel operation, and I cannot leave my + bed. I have had the actual cautery applied to my back, and it was + necessary to burn it in a long time; you understand me? But I + thought of you, and I did not suffer. + + "To baffle Maulincour (who will not persecute us much longer), I + have left the protecting roof of the embassy, and am now safe from + all inquiry in the rue des Enfants-Rouges, number 12, with an old + woman, Madame Etienne Gruget, mother of that Ida, who shall pay + dear for her folly. Come to-morrow, at nine in the morning. I am + in a room which is reached only by an interior staircase. Ask for + Monsieur Camuset. Adieu; I kiss your forehead, my darling." + +Jacquet looked at Jules with a sort of honest terror, the sign of a +true compassion, as he made his favorite exclamation in two separate and +distinct tones,-- + +"The deuce! the deuce!" + +"That seems clear to you, doesn't it?" said Jules. "Well, in the depths +of my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes itself +heard above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of all agony +until to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall know all; I +shall be happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me then, Jacquet." + +"I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o'clock. We will go +together; I'll wait for you, if you like, in the street. You may run +some danger, and you ought to have near you some devoted person who'll +understand a mere sign, and whom you can safely trust. Count on me." + +"Even to help me in killing some one?" + +"The deuce! the deuce!" said Jacquet, repeating, as it were, the same +musical note. "I have two children and a wife." + +Jules pressed his friend's hand and went away; but returned immediately. + +"I forgot the letter," he said. "But that's not all, I must reseal it." + +"The deuce! the deuce! you opened it without saving the seal; however, +it is still possible to restore it. Leave it with me and I'll bring it +to you _secundum scripturam_." + +"At what time?" + +"Half-past five." + +"If I am not yet in, give it to the porter and tell him to send it up to +madame." + +"Do you want me to-morrow?" + +"No. Adieu." + +Jules drove at once to the place de la Rotonde du Temple, where he left +his cabriolet and went on foot to the rue des Enfants-Rouges. He found +the house of Madame Etienne Gruget and examined it. There, the mystery +on which depended the fate of so many persons would be cleared up; +there, at this moment, was Ferragus, and to Ferragus all the threads of +this strange plot led. The Gordian knot of the drama, already so bloody, +was surely in a meeting between Madame Jules, her husband, and that man; +and a blade able to cut the closest of such knots would not be wanting. + +The house was one of those which belong to the class called +_cabajoutis_. This significant name is given by the populace of Paris +to houses which are built, as it were, piecemeal. They are nearly +always composed of buildings originally separate but afterwards united +according to the fancy of the various proprietors who successively +enlarge them; or else they are houses begun, left unfinished, again +built upon, and completed,--unfortunate structures which have passed, +like certain peoples, under many dynasties of capricious masters. +Neither the floors nor the windows have an _ensemble_,--to borrow one of +the most picturesque terms of the art of painting; all is discord, even +the external decoration. The _cabajoutis_ is to Parisian architecture +what the _capharnaum_ is to the apartment,--a poke-hole, where the most +heterogeneous articles are flung pell-mell. + +"Madame Etienne?" asked Jules of the portress. + +This portress had her lodge under the main entrance, in a sort of +chicken coop, or wooden house on rollers, not unlike those sentry-boxes +which the police have lately set up by the stands of hackney-coaches. + +"Hein?" said the portress, without laying down the stocking she was +knitting. + +In Paris the various component parts which make up the physiognomy of +any given portion of the monstrous city, are admirably in keeping with +its general character. Thus porter, concierge, or Suisse, whatever name +may be given to that essential muscle of the Parisian monster, is always +in conformity with the neighborhood of which he is a part; in fact, +he is often an epitome of it. The lazy porter of the faubourg +Saint-Germain, with lace on every seam of his coat, dabbles in stocks; +he of the Chaussee d'Antin takes his ease, reads the money-articles +in the newspapers, and has a business of his own in the faubourg +Montmartre. The portress in the quarter of prostitution was formerly a +prostitute; in the Marais, she has morals, is cross-grained, and full of +crotchets. + +On seeing Monsieur Jules this particular portress, holding her knitting +in one hand, took a knife and stirred the half-extinguished peat in her +foot-warmer; then she said:-- + +"You want Madame Etienne; do you mean Madame Etienne Gruget?" + +"Yes," said Jules, assuming a vexed air. + +"Who makes trimmings?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, monsieur," she said, issuing from her cage, and laying her +hand on Jules' arm and leading him to the end of a long passage-way, +vaulted like a cellar, "go up the second staircase at the end of the +court-yard--where you will see the windows with the pots of pinks; +that's where Madame Etienne lives." + +"Thank you, madame. Do you think she is alone?" + +"Why shouldn't she be alone? she's a widow." + +Jules hastened up a dark stairway, the steps of which were knobby with +hardened mud left by the feet of those who came and went. On the second +floor he saw three doors but no signs of pinks. Fortunately, on one of +the doors, the oiliest and darkest of the three, he read these words, +chalked on a panel: "Ida will come to-night at nine o'clock." + +"This is the place," thought Jules. + +He pulled an old bellrope, black with age, and heard the smothered sound +of a cracked bell and the barking of an asthmatic little dog. By the +way the sounds echoed from the interior he knew that the rooms were +encumbered with articles which left no space for reverberation,--a +characteristic feature of the homes of workmen and humble households, +where space and air are always lacking. + +Jules looked out mechanically for the pinks, and found them on the +outer sill of a sash window between two filthy drain-pipes. So here were +flowers; here, a garden, two yards long and six inches wide; here, +a wheat-ear; here, a whole life epitomized; but here, too, all the +miseries of that life. A ray of light falling from heaven as if by +special favor on those puny flowers and the vigorous wheat-ear brought +out in full relief the dust, the grease, and that nameless color, +peculiar to Parisian squalor, made of dirt, which crusted and spotted +the damp walls, the worm-eaten balusters, the disjointed window-casings, +and the door originally red. Presently the cough of an old woman, and a +heavy female step, shuffling painfully in list slippers, announced the +coming of the mother of Ida Gruget. The creature opened the door and +came out upon the landing, looked up, and said:-- + +"Ah! is this Monsieur Bocquillon? Why, no? But perhaps you're his +brother. What can I do for you? Come in, monsieur." + +Jules followed her into the first room, where he saw, huddled together, +cages, household utensils, ovens, furniture, little earthenware +dishes full of food or water for the dog and the cats, a wooden clock, +bed-quilts, engravings of Eisen, heaps of old iron, all these things +mingled and massed together in a way that produced a most grotesque +effect,--a true Parisian dusthole, in which were not lacking a few old +numbers of the "Constitutionel." + +Jules, impelled by a sense of prudence, paid no attention to the widow's +invitation when she said civilly, showing him an inner room:-- + +"Come in here, monsieur, and warm yourself." + +Fearing to be overheard by Ferragus, Jules asked himself whether it were +not wisest to conclude the arrangement he had come to make with the old +woman in the crowded antechamber. A hen, which descended cackling from +a loft, roused him from this inward meditation. He came to a resolution, +and followed Ida's mother into the inner room, whither they were +accompanied by the wheezy pug, a personage otherwise mute, who jumped +upon a stool. Madame Gruget showed the assumption of semi-pauperism +when she invited her visitor to warm himself. Her fire-pot contained, or +rather concealed two bits of sticks, which lay apart: the grating was +on the ground, its handle in the ashes. The mantel-shelf, adorned with +a little wax Jesus under a shade of squares of glass held together with +blue paper, was piled with wools, bobbins, and tools used in the making +of gimps and trimmings. Jules examined everything in the room with a +curiosity that was full of interest, and showed, in spite of himself, an +inward satisfaction. + +"Well, monsieur, tell me, do you want to buy any of my things?" said the +old woman, seating herself in a cane arm-chair, which appeared to be +her headquarters. In it she kept her handkerchief, snuffbox, knitting, +half-peeled vegetables, spectacles, calendar, a bit of livery gold lace +just begun, a greasy pack of cards, and two volumes of novels, all stuck +into the hollow of the back. This article of furniture, in which the +old creature was floating down the river of life, was not unlike the +encyclopedic bag which a woman carries with her when she travels; in +which may be found a compendium of her household belongings, from the +portrait of her husband to _eau de Melisse_ for faintness, sugarplums +for the children, and English court-plaster in case of cuts. + +Jules studied all. He looked attentively at Madame Gruget's yellow +visage, at her gray eyes without either brows or lashes, her toothless +mouth, her wrinkles marked in black, her rusty cap, her still more rusty +ruffles, her cotton petticoat full of holes, her worn-out slippers, her +disabled fire-pot, her table heaped with dishes and silks and work begun +or finished, in wool or cotton, in the midst of which stood a bottle of +wine. Then he said to himself: "This old woman has some passion, some +strong liking or vice; I can make her do my will." + +"Madame," he said aloud, with a private sign of intelligence, "I have +come to order some livery trimmings." Then he lowered his voice. "I +know," he continued, "that you have a lodger who has taken the name of +Camuset." The old woman looked at him suddenly, but without any sign of +astonishment. "Now, tell me, can we come to an understanding? This is a +question which means fortune for you." + +"Monsieur," she replied, "speak out, and don't be afraid. There's no one +here. But if I had any one above, it would be impossible for him to hear +you." + +"Ha! the sly old creature, she answers like a Norman," thought Jules, +"We shall agree. Do not give yourself the trouble to tell falsehoods, +madame," he resumed, "In the first place, let me tell you that I mean no +harm either to you or to your lodger who is suffering from cautery, or +to your daughter Ida, a stay-maker, the friend of Ferragus. You see, I +know all your affairs. Do not be uneasy; I am not a detective policeman, +nor do I desire anything that can hurt your conscience. A young lady +will come here to-morrow-morning at half-past nine o'clock, to talk with +this lover of your daughter. I want to be where I can see all and hear +all, without being seen or heard by them. If you will furnish me with +the means of doing so, I will reward that service with the gift of two +thousand francs and a yearly stipend of six hundred. My notary shall +prepare a deed before you this evening, and I will give him the money to +hold; he will pay the two thousand to you to-morrow after the conference +at which I desire to be present, as you will then have given proofs of +your good faith." + +"Will it injure my daughter, my good monsieur?" she asked, casting a +cat-like glance of doubt and uneasiness upon him. + +"In no way, madame. But, in any case, it seems to me that your daughter +does not treat you well. A girl who is loved by so rich a man as +Ferragus ought to make you more comfortable than you seem to be." + +"Ah, my dear monsieur, just think, not so much as one poor ticket to +the Ambigu, or the Gaiete, where she can go as much as she likes. It's +shameful! A girl for whom I sold my silver forks and spoons! and now +I eat, at my age, with German metal,--and all to pay for her +apprenticeship, and give her a trade, where she could coin money if she +chose. As for that, she's like me, clever as a witch; I must do her that +justice. But, I will say, she might give me her old silk gowns,--I, +who am so fond of wearing silk. But no! Monsieur, she dines at the +Cadran-Bleu at fifty francs a head, and rolls in her carriage as if she +were a princess, and despises her mother for a Colin-Lampon. Heavens and +earth! what heedless young ones we've brought into the world; we have +nothing to boast of there. A mother, monsieur, can't be anything else +but a good mother; and I've concealed that girl's ways, and kept her in +my bosom, to take the bread out of my mouth and cram everything into her +own. Well, well! and now she comes and fondles one a little, and says, +'How d'ye do, mother?' And that's all the duty she thinks of paying. But +she'll have children one of these days, and then she'll find out what it +is to have such baggage,--which one can't help loving all the same." + +"Do you mean that she does nothing for you?" + +"Ah, nothing? No, monsieur, I didn't say that; if she did nothing, that +would be a little too much. She gives me my rent and thirty-six francs a +month. But, monsieur, at my age,--and I'm fifty-two years old, with +eyes that feel the strain at night,--ought I to be working in this way? +Besides, why won't she have me to live with her? I should shame her, +should I? Then let her say so. Faith, one ought to be buried out of the +way of such dogs of children, who forget you before they've even shut +the door." + +She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, and with it a lottery +ticket that dropped on the floor; but she hastily picked it up, saying, +"Hi! that's the receipt for my taxes." + +Jules at once perceived the reason of the sagacious parsimony of which +the mother complained; and he was the more certain that the widow Gruget +would agree to the proposed bargain. + +"Well, then, madame," he said, "accept what I offer you." + +"Did you say two thousand francs in ready money, and six hundred +annuity, monsieur?" + +"Madame, I've changed my mind; I will promise you only three hundred +annuity. This way seems more to my own interests. But I will give you +five thousand francs in ready money. Wouldn't you like that as well?" + +"Bless me, yes, monsieur!" + +"You'll get more comfort out of it; and you can go to the Ambigu and +Franconi's at your ease in a coach." + +"As for Franconi, I don't like that, for they don't talk there. +Monsieur, if I accept, it is because it will be very advantageous for +my child. I sha'n't be a drag on her any longer. Poor little thing! +I'm glad she has her pleasures, after all. Ah, monsieur, youth must be +amused! And so, if you assure me that no harm will come to anybody--" + +"Not to anybody," replied Jules. "But now, how will you manage it?" + +"Well, monsieur, if I give Monsieur Ferragus a little tea made of +poppy-heads to-night, he'll sleep sound, the dear man; and he needs it, +too, because of his sufferings, for he does suffer, I can tell you, and +more's the pity. But I'd like to know what a healthy man like him wants +to burn his back for, just to get rid of a tic douleureux which troubles +him once in two years. However, to come back to our business. I have my +neighbor's key; her lodging is just above mine, and in it there's a +room adjoining the one where Monsieur Ferragus is, with only a +partition between them. My neighbor is away in the country for ten days. +Therefore, if I make a hole to-night while Monsieur Ferragus is sound +asleep, you can see and hear them to-morrow at your ease. I'm on good +terms with a locksmith,--a very friendly man, who talks like an angel, +and he'll do the work for me and say nothing about it." + +"Then here's a hundred francs for him. Come to-night to Monsieur +Desmaret's office; he's a notary, and here's his address. At nine +o'clock the deed will be ready, but--silence!" + +"Enough, monsieur; as you say--silence! Au revoir, monsieur." + +Jules went home, almost calmed by the certainty that he should know the +truth on the morrow. As he entered the house, the porter gave him the +letter properly resealed. + +"How do you feel now?" he said to his wife, in spite of the coldness +that separated them. + +"Pretty well, Jules," she answered in a coaxing voice, "do come and dine +beside me." + +"Very good," he said, giving her the letter. "Here is something +Fouguereau gave me for you." + +Clemence, who was very pale, colored high when she saw the letter, and +that sudden redness was a fresh blow to her husband. + +"Is that joy," he said, laughing, "or the effect of expectation?" + +"Oh, of many things!" she said, examining the seal. + +"I leave you now for a few moments." + +He went down to his study, and wrote to his brother, giving him +directions about the payment to the widow Gruget. When he returned, he +found his dinner served on a little table by his wife's bedside, and +Josephine ready to wait on him. + +"If I were up how I should like to serve you myself," said Clemence, +when Josephine had left them. "Oh, yes, on my knees!" she added, passing +her white hands through her husband's hair. "Dear, noble heart, you were +very kind and gracious to me just now. You did me more good by showing +me such confidence than all the doctors on earth could do me with their +prescriptions. That feminine delicacy of yours--for you do know how +to love like a woman--well, it has shed a balm into my heart which has +almost cured me. There's truce between us, Jules; lower your head, that +I may kiss it." + +Jules could not deny himself the pleasure of that embrace. But it was +not without a feeling of remorse in his heart; he felt himself small +before this woman whom he was still tempted to think innocent. A sort +of melancholy joy possessed him. A tender hope shone on her features +in spite of their grieved expression. They both were equally unhappy +in deceiving each other; another caress, and, unable to resist their +suffering, all would then have been avowed. + +"To-morrow evening, Clemence." + +"No, no; to-morrow morning, by twelve o'clock, you will know all, and +you'll kneel down before your wife--Oh, no! you shall not be humiliated; +you are all forgiven now; you have done no wrong. Listen, Jules; +yesterday you did crush me--harshly; but perhaps my life would not have +been complete without that agony; it may be a shadow that will make our +coming days celestial." + +"You lay a spell upon me," cried Jules; "you fill me with remorse." + +"Poor love! destiny is stronger than we, and I am not the accomplice of +mine. I shall go out to-morrow." + +"At what hour?" asked Jules. + +"At half-past nine." + +"Clemence," he said, "take every precaution; consult Doctor Desplein and +old Haudry." + +"I shall consult nothing but my heart and my courage." + +"I shall leave you free; you will not see me till twelve o'clock." + +"Won't you keep me company this evening? I feel so much better." + +After attending to some business, Jules returned to his wife,--recalled +by her invincible attraction. His passion was stronger than his anguish. + +The next day, at nine o'clock Jules left home, hurried to the rue des +Enfants-Rouges, went upstairs, and rang the bell of the widow Gruget's +lodgings. + +"Ah! you've kept your word, as true as the dawn. Come in, monsieur," +said the old woman when she saw him. "I've made you a cup of coffee with +cream," she added, when the door was closed. "Oh! real cream; I saw it +milked myself at the dairy we have in this very street." + +"Thank you, no, madame, nothing. Take me at once--" + +"Very good, monsieur. Follow me, this way." + +She led him up into the room above her own, where she showed him, +triumphantly, an opening about the size of a two-franc piece, made +during the night, in a place, which, in each room, was above a wardrobe. +In order to look through it, Jules was forced to maintain himself in +rather a fatiguing attitude, by standing on a step-ladder which the +widow had been careful to place there. + +"There's a gentleman with him," she whispered, as she retired. + +Jules then beheld a man employed in dressing a number of wounds on the +shoulders of Ferragus, whose head he recognized from the description +given to him by Monsieur de Maulincour. + +"When do you think those wounds will heal?" asked Ferragus. + +"I don't know," said the other man. "The doctors say those wounds will +require seven or eight more dressings." + +"Well, then, good-bye until to-night," said Ferragus, holding out his +hand to the man, who had just replaced the bandage. + +"Yes, to-night," said the other, pressing his hand cordially. "I wish I +could see you past your sufferings." + +"To-morrow Monsieur de Funcal's papers will be delivered to us, and +Henri Bourignard will be dead forever," said Ferragus. "Those fatal +marks which have cost us so dear no longer exist. I shall become once +more a social being, a man among men, and more of a man than the sailor +whom the fishes are eating. God knows it is not for my own sake I have +made myself a Portuguese count!" + +"Poor Gratien!--you, the wisest of us all, our beloved brother, the +Benjamin of the band; as you very well know." + +"Adieu; keep an eye on Maulincour." + +"You can rest easy on that score." + +"Ho! stay, marquis," cried the convict. + +"What is it?" + +"Ida is capable of everything after the scene of last night. If she +should throw herself into the river, I would not fish her out. She knows +the secret of my name, and she'll keep it better there. But still, look +after her; for she is, in her way, a good girl." + +"Very well." + +The stranger departed. Ten minutes later Jules heard, with a feverish +shudder, the rustle of a silk gown, and almost recognized by their sound +the steps of his wife. + +"Well, father," said Clemence, "my poor father, are you better? What +courage you have shown!" + +"Come here, my child," replied Ferragus, holding out his hand to her. + +Clemence held her forehead to him and he kissed it. + +"Now tell me, what is the matter, my little girl? What are these new +troubles?" + +"Troubles, father! it concerns the life or death of the daughter you +have loved so much. Indeed you must, as I wrote you yesterday, you +_must_ find a way to see my poor Jules to-day. If you knew how good he +has been to me, in spite of all suspicions apparently so legitimate. +Father, my love is my very life. Would you see me die? Ah! I have +suffered so much that my life, I feel it! is in danger." + +"And all because of the curiosity of that miserable Parisian?" cried +Ferragus. "I'd burn Paris down if I lost you, my daughter. Ha! you may +know what a lover is, but you don't yet know what a father can do." + +"Father, you frighten me when you look at me in that way. Don't weigh +such different feelings in the same scales. I had a husband before I +knew that my father was living--" + +"If your husband was the first to lay kisses on your forehead, I was +the first to drop tears upon it," replied Ferragus. "But don't feel +frightened, Clemence, speak to me frankly. I love you enough to rejoice +in the knowledge that you are happy, though I, your father, may have +little place in your heart, while you fill the whole of mine." + +"Ah! what good such words do me! You make me love you more and more, +though I seem to rob something from my Jules. But, my kind father, think +what his sufferings are. What may I tell him to-day?" + +"My child, do you think I waited for your letter to save you from this +threatened danger? Do you know what will become of those who venture to +touch your happiness, or come between us? Have you never been aware +that a second providence was guarding your life? Twelve men of power and +intellect form a phalanx round your love and your existence,--ready to +do all things to protect you. Think of your father, who has risked death +to meet you in the public promenades, or see you asleep in your little +bed in your mother's home, during the night-time. Could such a father, +to whom your innocent caresses give strength to live when a man of honor +ought to have died to escape his infamy, could _I_, in short, I who +breathe through your lips, and see with your eyes, and feel with your +heart, could I fail to defend with the claws of a lion and the soul of a +father, my only blessing, my life, my daughter? Since the death of that +angel, your mother, I have dreamed but of one thing,--the happiness of +pressing you to my heart in the face of the whole earth, of burying +the convict,--" He paused a moment, and then added: "--of giving you a +father, a father who could press without shame your husband's hand, who +could live without fear in both your hearts, who could say to all the +world, 'This is my daughter,'--in short, to be a happy father." + +"Oh, father! father!" + +"After infinite difficulty, after searching the whole globe," continued +Ferragus, "my friends have found me the skin of a dead man in which to +take my place once more in social life. A few days hence, I shall be +Monsieur de Funcal, a Portuguese count. Ah! my dear child, there are few +men of my age who would have had the patience to learn Portuguese and +English, which were spoken fluently by that devil of a sailor, who was +drowned at sea." + +"But, my dear father--" + +"All has been foreseen, and prepared. A few days hence, his Majesty John +VI., King of Portugal will be my accomplice. My child, you must have a +little patience where your father has had so much. But ah! what would +I not do to reward your devotion for the last three years,--coming +religiously to comfort your old father, at the risk of your own peace!" + +"Father!" cried Clemence, taking his hands and kissing them. + +"Come, my child, have courage still; keep my fatal secret a few days +longer, till the end is reached. Jules is not an ordinary man, I know; +but are we sure that his lofty character and his noble love may not +impel him to dislike the daughter of a--" + +"Oh!" cried Clemence, "you have read my heart; I have no other fear than +that. The very thought turns me to ice," she added, in a heart-rending +tone. "But, father, think that I have promised him the truth in two +hours." + +"If so, my daughter, tell him to go to the Portuguese embassy and see +the Comte de Funcal, your father. I will be there." + +"But Monsieur de Maulincour has told him of Ferragus. Oh, father, what +torture, to deceive, deceive, deceive!" + +"Need you say that to me? But only a few days more, and no living man +will be able to expose me. Besides, Monsieur de Maulincour is beyond +the faculty of remembering. Come, dry your tears, my silly child, and +think--" + +At this instant a terrible cry rang from the room in which Jules +Desmarets was stationed. + +The clamor was heard by Madame Jules and Ferragus through the opening of +the wall, and struck them with terror. + +"Go and see what it means, Clemence," said her father. + +Clemence ran rapidly down the little staircase, found the door into +Madame Gruget's apartment wide open, heard the cries which echoed from +the upper floor, went up the stairs, guided by the noise of sobs, and +caught these words before she entered the fatal chamber:-- + +"You, monsieur, you, with your horrid inventions,--you are the cause of +her death!" + +"Hush, miserable woman!" replied Jules, putting his handkerchief on the +mouth of the old woman, who began at once to cry out, "Murder! help!" + +At this instant Clemence entered, saw her husband, uttered a cry, and +fled away. + +"Who will save my child?" cried the widow Gruget. "You have murdered +her." + +"How?" asked Jules, mechanically, for he was horror-struck at being seen +by his wife. + +"Read that," said the old woman, giving him a letter. "Can money or +annuities console me for that?" + + + Farewell, mother! I bequeeth you what I have. I beg your pardon + for my forlts, and the last greef to which I put you by ending my + life in the river. Henry, who I love more than myself, says I have + made his misfortune, and as he has drifen me away, and I have lost + all my hops of merrying him, I am going to droun myself. I shall + go abov Neuilly, so that they can't put me in the Morg. If Henry + does not hate me anny more after I am ded, ask him to berry a pore + girl whose hart beet for him only, and to forgif me, for I did + rong to meddle in what didn't consern me. Tak care of his wounds. + How much he sufered, pore fellow! I shall have as much corage to + kill myself as he had to burn his bak. Carry home the corsets I + have finished. And pray God for your daughter. + +Ida. + + +"Take this letter to Monsieur de Funcal, who is upstairs," said Jules. +"He alone can save your daughter, if there is still time." + +So saying he disappeared, running like a man who has committed a crime. +His legs trembled. The hot blood poured into his swelling heart in +torrents greater than at any other moment of his life, and left it again +with untold violence. Conflicting thoughts struggled in his mind, and +yet one thought predominated,--he had not been loyal to the being he +loved most. It was impossible for him to argue with his conscience, +whose voice, rising high with conviction, came like an echo of those +inward cries of his love during the cruel hours of doubt he had lately +lived through. + +He spent the greater part of the day wandering about Paris, for he dared +not go home. This man of integrity and honor feared to meet the spotless +brow of the woman he had misjudged. We estimate wrongdoing in proportion +to the purity of our conscience; the deed which is scarcely a fault +in some hearts, takes the proportions of a crime in certain unsullied +souls. The slightest stain on the white garment of a virgin makes it a +thing ignoble as the rags of a mendicant. Between the two the difference +lies in the misfortune of the one, the wrong-doing of the other. God +never measures repentance; he never apportions it. As much is needed +to efface a spot as to obliterate the crimes of a lifetime. These +reflections fell with all their weight on Jules; passions, like human +laws, will not pardon, and their reasoning is more just; for are they +not based upon a conscience of their own as infallible as an instinct? + +Jules finally came home pale, despondent, crushed beneath a sense of his +wrong-doing, and yet expressing in spite of himself the joy his wife's +innocence had given him. He entered her room all throbbing with emotion; +she was in bed with a high fever. He took her hand, kissed it, and +covered it with tears. + +"Dear angel," he said, when they were alone, "it is repentance." + +"And for what?" she answered. + +As she made that reply, she laid her head back upon the pillow, closed +her eyes, and remained motionless, keeping the secret of her sufferings +that she might not frighten her husband,--the tenderness of a mother, +the delicacy of an angel! All the woman was in her answer. + +The silence lasted long. Jules, thinking her asleep, went to question +Josephine as to her mistress's condition. + +"Madame came home half-dead, monsieur. We sent at once for Monsieur +Haudry." + +"Did he come? What did he say?" + +"He said nothing, monsieur. He did not seem satisfied; gave orders that +no one should go near madame except the nurse, and said he should come +back this evening." + +Jules returned softly to his wife's room and sat down in a chair before +the bed. There he remained, motionless, with his eyes fixed on those +of Clemence. When she raised her eyelids she saw him, and through those +lids passed a tender glance, full of passionate love, free from reproach +and bitterness,--a look which fell like a flame of fire upon the heart +of that husband, nobly absolved and forever loved by the being whom he +had killed. The presentiment of death struck both their minds with equal +force. Their looks were blended in one anguish, as their hearts had long +been blended in one love, felt equally by both, and shared equally. No +questions were uttered; a horrible certainty was there,--in the wife +an absolute generosity; in the husband an awful remorse; then, in both +souls the same vision of the end, the same conviction of fatality. + +There came a moment when, thinking his wife asleep, Jules kissed her +softly on the forehead; then after long contemplation of that cherished +face, he said:-- + +"Oh God! leave me this angel still a little while that I may blot out my +wrong by love and adoration. As a daughter, she is sublime; as a wife, +what word can express her?" + +Clemence raised her eyes; they were full of tears. + +"You pain me," she said, in a feeble voice. + +It was getting late; Doctor Haudry came, and requested the husband to +withdraw during his visit. When the doctor left the sick-room Jules +asked him no question; one gesture was enough. + +"Call in consultation any physician in whom you place confidence; I may +be wrong." + +"Doctor, tell me the truth. I am a man, and I can bear it. Besides, +I have the deepest interest in knowing it; I have certain affairs to +settle." + +"Madame Jules is dying," said the physician. "There is some moral malady +which has made great progress, and it has complicated her physical +condition, which was already dangerous, and made still more so by her +great imprudence. To walk about barefooted at night! to go out when I +forbade it! on foot yesterday in the rain, to-day in a carriage! She +must have meant to kill herself. But still, my judgment is not final; +she has youth, and a most amazing nervous strength. It may be best to +risk all to win all by employing some violent reagent. But I will not +take upon myself to order it; nor will I advise it; in consultation I +shall oppose it." + +Jules returned to his wife. For eleven days and eleven nights he +remained beside her bed, taking no sleep during the day when he laid his +head upon the foot of the bed. No man ever pushed the jealousy of care +and the craving for devotion to such an extreme as he. He could not +endure that the slightest service should be done by others for his wife. +There were days of uncertainty, false hopes, now a little better, then +a crisis,--in short, all the horrible mutations of death as it wavers, +hesitates, and finally strikes. Madame Jules always found strength to +smile at her husband. She pitied him, knowing that soon he would be +alone. It was a double death,--that of life, that of love; but life grew +feebler, and love grew mightier. One frightful night there was, when +Clemence passed through that delirium which precedes the death of youth. +She talked of her happy love, she talked of her father; she related her +mother's revelations on her death-bed, and the obligations that mother +had laid upon her. She struggled, not for life, but for her love which +she could not leave. + +"Grant, O God!" she said, "that he may not know I want him to die with +me." + +Jules, unable to bear the scene, was at that moment in the adjoining +room, and did not hear the prayer, which he would doubtless have +fulfilled. + +When this crisis was over, Madame Jules recovered some strength. The +next day she was beautiful and tranquil; hope seemed to come to her; she +adorned herself, as the dying often do. Then she asked to be alone all +day, and sent away her husband with one of those entreaties made so +earnestly that they are granted as we grant the prayer of a little +child. + +Jules, indeed, had need of this day. He went to Monsieur de Maulincour +to demand the satisfaction agreed upon between them. It was not without +great difficulty that he succeeded in reaching the presence of the +author of these misfortunes; but the vidame, when he learned that the +visit related to an affair of honor, obeyed the precepts of his whole +life, and himself took Jules into the baron's chamber. + +Monsieur Desmarets looked about him in search of his antagonist. + +"Yes! that is really he," said the vidame, motioning to a man who was +sitting in an arm-chair beside the fire. + +"Who is it? Jules?" said the dying man in a broken voice. + +Auguste had lost the only faculty that makes us live--memory. Jules +Desmarets recoiled with horror at this sight. He could not even +recognize the elegant young man in that thing without--as Bossuet +said--a name in any language. It was, in truth, a corpse with whitened +hair, its bones scarce covered with a wrinkled, blighted, withered +skin,--a corpse with white eyes motionless, mouth hideously gaping, +like those of idiots or vicious men killed by excesses. No trace of +intelligence remained upon that brow, nor in any feature; nor was +there in that flabby flesh either color or the faintest appearance of +circulating blood. Here was a shrunken, withered creature brought to +the state of those monsters we see preserved in museums, floating in +alchohol. Jules fancied that he saw above that face the terrible head +of Ferragus, and his own anger was silenced by such a vengeance. The +husband found pity in his heart for the vacant wreck of what was once a +man. + +"The duel has taken place," said the vidame. + +"But he has killed many," answered Jules, sorrowfully. + +"And many dear ones," added the old man. "His grandmother is dying; and +I shall follow her soon into the grave." + +On the morrow of this day, Madame Jules grew worse from hour to hour. +She used a moment's strength to take a letter from beneath her pillow, +and gave it eagerly to her husband with a sign that was easy to +understand,--she wished to give him, in a kiss, her last breath. He +took it, and she died. Jules fell half-dead himself and was taken to his +brother's house. There, as he deplored in tears his absence of the day +before, his brother told him that this separation was eagerly desired +by Clemence, who wished to spare him the sight of the religious +paraphernalia, so terrible to tender imaginations, which the Church +displays when conferring the last sacraments upon the dying. + +"You could not have borne it," said his brother. "I could hardly bear +the sight myself, and all the servants wept. Clemence was like a saint. +She gathered strength to bid us all good-bye, and that voice, heard for +the last time, rent our hearts. When she asked pardon for the pain she +might unwillingly have caused her servants, there were cries and sobs +and--" + +"Enough! enough!" said Jules. + +He wanted to be alone, that he might read the last words of the woman +whom all had loved, and who had passed away like a flower. + + + "My beloved, this is my last will. Why should we not make wills + for the treasures of our hearts, as for our worldly property? Was + not my love my property, my all? I mean here to dispose of my + love: it was the only fortune of your Clemence, and it is all that + she can leave you in dying. Jules, you love me still, and I die + happy. The doctors may explain my death as they think best; I + alone know the true cause. I shall tell it to you, whatever pain + it may cause you. I cannot carry with me, in a heart all yours, a + secret which you do not share, although I die the victim of an + enforced silence. + + "Jules, I was nurtured and brought up in the deepest solitude, far + from the vices and the falsehoods of the world, by the loving + woman whom you knew. Society did justice to her conventional + charm, for that is what pleases society; but I knew secretly her + precious soul, I could cherish the mother who made my childhood a + joy without bitterness, and I knew why I cherished her. Was not + that to love doubly? Yes, I loved her, I feared her, I respected + her; yet nothing oppressed my heart, neither fear nor respect. I + was all in all to her; she was all in all to me. For nineteen + happy years, without a care, my soul, solitary amid the world + which muttered round me, reflected only her pure image; my heart + beat for her and through her. I was scrupulously pious; I found + pleasure in being innocent before God. My mother cultivated all + noble and self-respecting sentiments in me. Ah! it gives me + happiness to tell you, Jules, that I now know I was indeed a young + girl, and that I came to you virgin in heart. + + "When I left that absolute solitude, when, for the first time, I + braided my hair and crowned it with almond blossoms, when I added, + with delight, a few satin knots to my white dress, thinking of the + world I was to see, and which I was curious to see--Jules, that + innocent and modest coquetry was done for you! Yes, as I entered + the world, I saw _you_ first of all. Your face, I remarked it; it + stood out from the rest; your person pleased me; your voice, your + manners all inspired me with pleasant presentiments. When you came + up, when you spoke to me, the color on your forehead, the tremble + in your voice,--that moment gave me memories with which I throb as + I now write to you, as I now, for the last time, think of them. + Our love was at first the keenest of sympathies, but it was soon + discovered by each of us and then, as speedily, shared; just as, + in after times, we have both equally felt and shared innumerable + happinesses. From that moment my mother was only second in my + heart. Next, I was yours, all yours. There is my life, and all my + life, dear husband. + + "And here is what remains for me to tell you. One evening, a few + days before my mother's death, she revealed to me the secret of + her life,--not without burning tears. I have loved you better + since the day I learned from the priest as he absolved my mother + that there are passions condemned by the world and by the Church. + But surely God will not be severe when they are the sins of souls + as tender as that of my mother; only, that dear woman could never + bring herself to repent. She loved much, Jules; she was all love. + So I have prayed daily for her, but never judged her. + + "That night I learned the cause of her deep maternal tenderness; + then I also learned that there was in Paris a man whose life and + whose love centred on me; that your fortune was his doing, and + that he loved you. I learned also that he was exiled from society + and bore a tarnished name; but that he was more unhappy for me, + for us, than for himself. My mother was all his comfort; she was + dying, and I promised to take her place. With all the ardor of a + soul whose feelings had never been perverted, I saw only the + happiness of softening the bitterness of my mother's last moments, + and I pledged myself to continue her work of secret charity,--the + charity of the heart. The first time that I saw my father was + beside the bed where my mother had just expired. When he raised + his tearful eyes, it was to see in me a revival of his dead hopes. + I had sworn, not to tell a lie, but to keep silence; and that + silence what woman could have broken it? + + "There is my fault, Jules,--a fault which I expiate by death. I + doubted you. But fear is so natural to a woman; above all, a woman + who knows what it is that she may lose. I trembled for our love. + My father's secret seemed to me the death of my happiness; and the + more I loved, the more I feared. I dared not avow this feeling to + my father; it would have wounded him, and in his situation a wound + was agony. But, without a word from me, he shared my fears. That + fatherly heart trembled for my happiness as much as I trembled for + myself; but it dared not speak, obeying the same delicacy that + kept me mute. Yes, Jules, I believed that you could not love the + daughter of Gratien Bourignard as you loved your Clemence. Without + that terror could I have kept back anything from you,--you who + live in every fold of my heart? + + "The day when that odious, unfortunate young officer spoke to you, + I was forced to lie. That day, for the second time in my life, I + knew what pain was; that pain has steadily increased until this + moment, when I speak with you for the last time. What matters now + my father's position? You know all. I could, by the help of my + love, have conquered my illness and borne its sufferings; but I + cannot stifle the voice of doubt. Is it not probable that my + origin would affect the purity of your love and weaken it, + diminish it? That fear nothing has been able to quench in me. + There, Jules, is the cause of my death. I cannot live fearing a + word, a look,--a word you may never say, a look you may never + give; but, I cannot help it, I fear them. I die beloved; there is + my consolation. + + "I have known, for the last three years, that my father and his + friends have well-nigh moved the world to deceive the world. That + I might have a station in life, they have bought a dead man, a + reputation, a fortune, so that a living man might live again, + restored; and all this for you, for us. We were never to have + known of it. Well, my death will save my father from that + falsehood, for he will not survive me. + + "Farewell, Jules, my heart is all here. To show you my love in its + agony of fear, is not that bequeathing my whole soul to you? I + could never have the strength to speak to you; I have only enough + to write. I have just confessed to God the sins of my life. I have + promised to fill my mind with the King of Heaven only; but I must + confess to him who is, for me, the whole of earth. Alas! shall I + not be pardoned for this last sigh between the life that was and + the life that shall be? Farewell, my Jules, my loved one! I go to + God, with whom is Love without a cloud, to whom you will follow + me. There, before his throne, united forever, we may love each + other throughout the ages. This hope alone can comfort me. If I am + worthy of being there at once, I will follow you through life. My + soul shall bear your company; it will wrap you about, for _you_ + must stay here still,--ah! here below. Lead a holy life that you + may the more surely come to me. You can do such good upon this + earth! Is it not an angel's mission for the suffering soul to shed + happiness about him,--to give to others that which he has not? I + bequeath you to the Unhappy. Their smiles, their tears, are the + only ones of which I cannot be jealous. We shall find a charm in + sweet beneficence. Can we not live together still if you would + join my name--your Clemence--in these good works? + + "After loving as we have loved, there is naught but God, Jules. + God does not lie; God never betrays. Adore him only, I charge you! + Lead those who suffer up to him; comfort the sorrowing members of + his Church. Farewell, dear soul that I have filled! I know you; + you will never love again. I may die happy in the thought that + makes all women happy. Yes, my grave will be your heart. After + this childhood I have just related, has not my life flowed on + within that heart? Dead, you will never drive me forth. I am proud + of that rare life! You will know me only in the flower of my + youth; I leave you regrets without disillusions. Jules, it is a + happy death. + + "You, who have so fully understood me, may I ask one thing more of + you,--superfluous request, perhaps, the fulfilment of a woman's + fancy, the prayer of a jealousy we all must feel,--I pray you to + burn all that especially belonged to _us_, destroy our chamber, + annihilate all that is a memory of our happiness. + + "Once more, farewell,--the last farewell! It is all love, and so + will be my parting thought, my parting breath." + + +When Jules had read that letter there came into his heart one of those +wild frenzies of which it is impossible to describe the awful anguish. +All sorrows are individual; their effects are not subjected to any fixed +rule. Certain men will stop their ears to hear nothing; some women close +their eyes hoping never to see again; great and splendid souls are met +with who fling themselves into sorrow as into an abyss. In the matter of +despair, all is true. + + + + +CHAPTER V. CONCLUSION + + +Jules escaped from his brother's house and returned home, wishing +to pass the night beside his wife, and see till the last moment that +celestial creature. As he walked along with an indifference to life +known only to those who have reached the last degree of wretchedness, +he thought of how, in India, the law ordained that widows should die; he +longed to die. He was not yet crushed; the fever of his grief was still +upon him. He reached his home and went up into the sacred chamber; he +saw his Clemence on the bed of death, beautiful, like a saint, her hair +smoothly laid upon her forehead, her hands joined, her body wrapped +already in its shroud. Tapers were lighted, a priest was praying, +Josephine kneeling in a corner, wept, and, near the bed, were two men. +One was Ferragus. He stood erect, motionless, gazing at his daughter +with dry eyes; his head you might have taken for bronze: he did not see +Jules. + +The other man was Jacquet,--Jacquet, to whom Madame Jules had been ever +kind. Jacquet felt for her one of those respectful friendships which +rejoice the untroubled heart; a gentle passion; love without its desires +and its storms. He had come to pay his debt of tears, to bid a long +adieu to the wife of his friend, to kiss, for the first time, the icy +brow of the woman he had tacitly made his sister. + +All was silence. Here death was neither terrible as in the churches, nor +pompous as it makes its way along the streets; no, it was death in the +home, a tender death; here were pomps of the heart, tears drawn from the +eyes of all. Jules sat down beside Jacquet and pressed his hand; then, +without uttering a word, all these persons remained as they were till +morning. + +When daylight paled the tapers, Jacquet, foreseeing the painful scenes +which would then take place, drew Jules away into another room. At this +moment the husband looked at the father, and Ferragus looked at +Jules. The two sorrows arraigned each other, measured each other, and +comprehended each other in that look. A flash of fury shone for an +instant in the eyes of Ferragus. + +"You killed her," thought he. + +"Why was I distrusted?" seemed the answer of the husband. + +The scene was one that might have passed between two tigers recognizing +the futility of a struggle and, after a moment's hesitation, turning +away, without even a roar. + +"Jacquet," said Jules, "have you attended to everything?" + +"Yes, to everything," replied his friend, "but a man had forestalled me +who had ordered and paid for all." + +"He tears his daughter from me!" cried the husband, with the violence of +despair. + +Jules rushed back to his wife's room; but the father was there no +longer. Clemence had now been placed in a leaden coffin, and workmen +were employed in soldering the cover. Jules returned, horrified by the +sight; the sound of the hammers the men were using made him mechanically +burst into tears. + +"Jacquet," he said, "out of this dreadful night one idea has come to +me, only one, but one I must make a reality at any price. I cannot let +Clemence stay in any cemetery in Paris. I wish to burn her,--to gather +her ashes and keep her with me. Say nothing of this, but manage on my +behalf to have it done. I am going to _her_ chamber, where I shall stay +until the time has come to go. You alone may come in there to tell me +what you have done. Go, and spare nothing." + +During the morning, Madame Jules, after lying in a mortuary chapel at +the door of her house, was taken to Saint-Roch. The church was hung with +black throughout. The sort of luxury thus displayed had drawn a crowd; +for in Paris all things are sights, even true grief. There are people +who stand at their windows to see how a son deplores a mother as he +follows her body; there are others who hire commodious seats to see how +a head is made to fall. No people in the world have such insatiate eyes +as the Parisians. On this occasion, inquisitive minds were particularly +surprised to see the six lateral chapels at Saint-Roch also hung in +black. Two men in mourning were listening to a mortuary mass said in +each chapel. In the chancel no other persons but Monsieur Desmarets, +the notary, and Jacquet were present; the servants of the household were +outside the screen. To church loungers there was something inexplicable +in so much pomp and so few mourners. But Jules had been determined that +no indifferent persons should be present at the ceremony. + +High mass was celebrated with the sombre magnificence of funeral +services. Beside the ministers in ordinary of Saint-Roch, thirteen +priests from other parishes were present. Perhaps never did the _Dies +irae_ produce upon Christians, assembled by chance, by curiosity, and +thirsting for emotions, an effect so profound, so nervously glacial as +that now caused by this hymn when the eight voices of the precentors, +accompanied by the voices of the priests and the choir-boys, intoned it +alternately. From the six lateral chapels twelve other childish voices +rose shrilly in grief, mingling with the choir voices lamentably. From +all parts of the church this mourning issued; cries of anguish responded +to the cries of fear. That terrible music was the voice of sorrows +hidden from the world, of secret friendships weeping for the dead. +Never, in any human religion, have the terrors of the soul, violently +torn from the body and stormily shaken in presence of the fulminating +majesty of God, been rendered with such force. Before that clamor of +clamors all artists and their most passionate compositions must bow +humiliated. No, nothing can stand beside that hymn, which sums all human +passions, gives them a galvanic life beyond the coffin, and leaves them, +palpitating still, before the living and avenging God. These cries of +childhood, mingling with the tones of older voices, including thus in +the Song of Death all human life and its developments, recalling the +sufferings of the cradle, swelling to the griefs of other ages in +the stronger male voices and the quavering of the priests,--all this +strident harmony, big with lightning and thunderbolts, does it not speak +with equal force to the daring imagination, the coldest heart, nay, to +philosophers themselves? As we hear it, we think God speaks; the vaulted +arches of no church are mere material; they have a voice, they tremble, +they scatter fear by the might of their echoes. We think we see +unnumbered dead arising and holding out their hands. It is no more a +father, a wife, a child,--humanity itself is rising from its dust. + +It is impossible to judge of the catholic, apostolic, and Roman faith, +unless the soul has known that deepest grief of mourning for a loved one +lying beneath the pall; unless it has felt the emotions that fill the +heart, uttered by that Hymn of Despair, by those cries that crush the +mind, by that sacred fear augmenting strophe by strophe, ascending +heavenward, which terrifies, belittles, and elevates the soul, and +leaves within our minds, as the last sound ceases, a consciousness +of immortality. We have met and struggled with the vast idea of the +Infinite. After that, all is silent in the church. No word is said; +sceptics themselves _know not what they are feeling_. Spanish genius +alone was able to bring this untold majesty to untold griefs. + +When the solemn ceremony was over, twelve men came from the six chapels +and stood around the coffin to hear the song of hope which the Church +intones for the Christian soul before the human form is buried. Then, +each man entered alone a mourning-coach; Jacquet and Monsieur Desmarets +took the thirteenth; the servants followed on foot. An hour later, they +were at the summit of that cemetery popularly called Pere-Lachaise. The +unknown twelve men stood in a circle round the grave, where the coffin +had been laid in presence of a crowd of loiterers gathered from all +parts of this public garden. After a few short prayers the priest threw +a handful of earth on the remains of this woman, and the grave-diggers, +having asked for their fee, made haste to fill the grave in order to dig +another. + +Here this history seems to end; but perhaps it would be incomplete if, +after giving a rapid sketch of Parisian life, and following certain of +its capricious undulations, the effects of death were omitted. Death in +Paris is unlike death in any other capital; few persons know the trials +of true grief in its struggle with civilization, and the government of +Paris. Perhaps, also, Monsieur Jules and Ferragus XXIII. may have proved +sufficiently interesting to make a few words on their after life not +entirely out of place. Besides, some persons like to be told all, and +wish, as one of our cleverest critics has remarked, to know by what +chemical process oil was made to burn in Aladdin's lamp. + +Jacquet, being a government employee, naturally applied to the +authorities for permission to exhume the body of Madame Jules and burn +it. He went to see the prefect of police, under whose protection the +dead sleep. That functionary demanded a petition. The blank was brought +that gives to sorrow its proper administrative form; it was necessary to +employ the bureaucratic jargon to express the wishes of a man so crushed +that words, perhaps, were lacking to him, and it was also necessary to +coldly and briefly repeat on the margin the nature of the request, +which was done in these words: "The petitioner respectfully asks for the +incineration of his wife." + +When the official charged with making the report to the Councillor of +State and prefect of police read that marginal note, explaining the +object of the petition, and couched, as requested, in the plainest +terms, he said:-- + +"This is a serious matter! my report cannot be ready under eight days." + +Jules, to whom Jacquet was obliged to speak of this delay, comprehended +the words that Ferragus had said in his hearing, "I'll burn Paris!" +Nothing seemed to him now more natural than to annihilate that +receptacle of monstrous things. + +"But," he said to Jacquet, "you must go to the minister of the Interior, +and get your minister to speak to him." + +Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; it +was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet was a +persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally reached +the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom he had +made the private secretary of his own minister say a word. These high +protectors aiding, he obtained for the morrow a second interview, in +which, being armed with a line from the autocrat of Foreign affairs to +the pacha of the Interior, Jacquet hoped to carry the matter by assault. +He was ready with reasons, and answers to peremptory questions,--in +short, he was armed at all points; but he failed. + +"This matter does not concern me," said the minister; "it belongs to the +prefect of police. Besides, there is no law giving a husband any legal +right to the body of his wife, nor to fathers those of their children. +The matter is serious. There are questions of public utility involved +which will have to be examined. The interests of the city of Paris might +suffer. Therefore if the matter depended on me, which it does not, I +could not decide _hic et nunc_; I should require a report." + +A _report_ is to the present system of administration what limbo +or hades is to Christianity. Jacquet knew very well the mania for +"reports"; he had not waited until this occasion to groan at that +bureaucratic absurdity. He knew that since the invasion into public +business of the _Report_ (an administrative revolution consummated +in 1804) there was never known a single minister who would take upon +himself to have an opinion or to decide the slightest matter, unless +that opinion or matter had been winnowed, sifted, and plucked to bits +by the paper-spoilers, quill-drivers, and splendid intellects of his +particular bureau. Jacquet--he was one of those who are worthy of +Plutarch as biographer--saw that he had made a mistake in his management +of the affair, and had, in fact, rendered it impossible by trying to +proceed legally. The thing he should have done was to have taken Madame +Jules to one of Desmaret's estates in the country; and there, under +the good-natured authority of some village mayor to have gratified the +sorrowful longing of his friend. Law, constitutional and administrative, +begets nothing; it is a barren monster for peoples, for kings, and for +private interests. But the peoples decipher no principles but those that +are writ in blood, and the evils of legality will always be pacific; it +flattens a nation down, that is all. Jacquet, a man of modern liberty, +returned home reflecting on the benefits of arbitrary power. + +When he went with his report to Jules, he found it necessary to deceive +him, for the unhappy man was in a high fever, unable to leave his bed. +The minister of the Interior mentioned, at a ministerial dinner that +same evening, the singular fancy of a Parisian in wishing to burn his +wife after the manner of the Romans. The clubs of Paris took up the +subject, and talked for a while of the burials of antiquity. Ancient +things were just then becoming a fashion, and some persons declared that +it would be a fine thing to re-establish, for distinguished persons, the +funeral pyre. This opinion had its defenders and its detractors. Some +said that there were too many such personages, and the price of wood +would be enormously increased by such a custom; moreover, it would +be absurd to see our ancestors in their urns in the procession at +Longchamps. And if the urns were valuable, they were likely some day +to be sold at auction, full of respectable ashes, or seized by +creditors,--a race of men who respected nothing. The other side made +answer that our ancestors were much safer in urns than at Pere-Lachaise, +for before very long the city of Paris would be compelled to order a +Saint-Bartholomew against its dead, who were invading the neighboring +country, and threatening to invade the territory of Brie. It was, in +short, one of those futile but witty discussions which sometimes cause +deep and painful wounds. Happily for Jules, he knew nothing of the +conversations, the witty speeches, and arguments which his sorrow had +furnished to the tongues of Paris. + +The prefect of police was indignant that Monsieur Jacquet had appealed +to a minister to avoid the wise delays of the commissioners of the +public highways; for the exhumation of Madame Jules was a question +belonging to that department. The police bureau was doing its best to +reply promptly to the petition; one appeal was quite sufficient to set +the office in motion, and once in motion matters would go far. But as +for the administration, that might take the case before the Council of +state,--a machine very difficult indeed to move. + +After the second day Jacquet was obliged to tell his friend that he must +renounce his desire, because, in a city where the number of tears shed +on black draperies is tariffed, where the laws recognize seven classes +of funerals, where the scrap of ground to hold the dead is sold at its +weight in silver, where grief is worked for what it is worth, where the +prayers of the Church are costly, and the vestry claim payment for extra +voices in the _Dies irae_,--all attempt to get out of the rut prescribed +by the authorities for sorrow is useless and impossible. + +"It would have been to me," said Jules, "a comfort in my misery. I meant +to have died away from here, and I hoped to hold her in my arms in a +distant grave. I did not know that bureaucracy could send its claws into +our very coffins." + +He now wished to see if room had been left for him beside his wife. The +two friends went to the cemetery. When they reached it they found (as +at the doors of museums, galleries, and coach-offices) _ciceroni_, who +proposed to guide them through the labyrinth of Pere-Lachaise. Neither +Jules nor Jacquet could have found the spot where Clemence lay. Ah, +frightful anguish! They went to the lodge to consult the porter of the +cemetery. The dead have a porter, and there are hours when the dead are +"not receiving." It is necessary to upset all the rules and regulations +of the upper and lower police to obtain permission to weep at night, in +silence and solitude, over the grave where a loved one lies. There's a +rule for summer and a rule for winter about this. + +Certainly, of all the porters in Paris, the porter of Pere-Lachaise is +the luckiest. In the first place, he has no gate-cord to pull; then, +instead of a lodge, he has a house,--an establishment which is not +quite ministerial, although a vast number of persons come under his +administration, and a good many employees. And this governor of the +dead has a salary, with emoluments, and acts under powers of which +none complain; he plays despot at his ease. His lodge is not a place of +business, though it has departments where the book-keeping of receipts, +expenses, and profits, is carried on. The man is not a _suisse_, nor a +concierge, nor actually a porter. The gate which admits the dead stands +wide open; and though there are monuments and buildings to be cared +for, he is not a care-taker. In short, he is an indefinable anomaly, an +authority which participates in all, and yet is nothing,--an authority +placed, like the dead on whom it is based, outside of all. Nevertheless, +this exceptional man grows out of the city of Paris,--that chimerical +creation like the ship which is its emblem, that creature of reason +moving on a thousand paws which are seldom unanimous in motion. + +This guardian of the cemetery may be called a concierge who has reached +the condition of a functionary, not soluble by dissolution! His place +is far from being a sinecure. He does not allow any one to be buried +without a permit; he must count his dead. He points out to you in this +vast field the six feet square of earth where you will one day put all +you love, or all you hate, a mistress, or a cousin. Yes, remember +this: all the feelings and emotions of Paris come to end here, at +this porter's lodge, where they are administrationized. This man has +registers in which his dead are booked; they are in their graves, and +also on his records. He has under him keepers, gardeners, grave-diggers, +and their assistants. He is a personage. Mourning hearts do not speak to +him at first. He does not appear at all except in serious cases, such as +one corpse mistaken for another, a murdered body, an exhumation, a +dead man coming to life. The bust of the reigning king is in his hall; +possibly he keeps the late royal, imperial, and quasi-royal busts +in some cupboard,--a sort of little Pere-Lachaise all ready for +revolutions. In short, he is a public man, an excellent man, good +husband and good father,--epitaph apart. But so many diverse sentiments +have passed before him on biers; he has seen so many tears, true and +false; he has beheld sorrow under so many aspects and on so many faces; +he has heard such endless thousands of eternal woes,--that to him sorrow +has come to be nothing more than a stone an inch thick, four feet long, +and twenty-four inches wide. As for regrets, they are the annoyances of +his office; he neither breakfasts nor dines without first wiping off +the rain of an inconsolable affliction. He is kind and tender to other +feelings; he will weep over a stage-hero, over Monsieur Germeuil in the +"Auberge des Adrets," the man with the butter-colored breeches, murdered +by Macaire; but his heart is ossified in the matter of real dead men. +Dead men are ciphers, numbers, to him; it is his business to organize +death. Yet he does meet, three times in a century, perhaps, with an +occasion when his part becomes sublime, and then he _is_ sublime through +every hour of his day,--in times of pestilence. + +When Jacquet approached him this absolute monarch was evidently out of +temper. + +"I told you," he was saying, "to water the flowers from the rue Massena +to the place Regnault de Saint-Jean-d'Angely. You paid no attention +to me! _Sac-a-papier_! suppose the relations should take it into their +heads to come here to-day because the weather is fine, what would they +say to me? They'd shriek as if they were burned; they'd say horrid +things of us, and calumniate us--" + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, "we want to know where Madame Jules is +buried." + +"Madame Jules _who_?" he asked. "We've had three Madame Jules within the +last week. Ah," he said, interrupting himself, "here comes the funeral +of Monsieur le Baron de Maulincour! A fine procession, that! He has soon +followed his grandmother. Some families, when they begin to go, rattle +down like a wager. Lots of bad blood in Parisians." + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, touching him on the arm, "the person I spoke +of is Madame Jules Desmarets, the wife of the broker of that name." + +"Ah, I know!" he replied, looking at Jacquet. "Wasn't it a funeral with +thirteen mourning coaches, and only one mourner in the twelve first? It +was so droll we all noticed it--" + +"Monsieur, take care, Monsieur Desmarets is with me; he might hear you, +and what you say is not seemly." + +"I beg pardon, monsieur! you are quite right. Excuse me, I took you for +heirs. Monsieur," he continued, after consulting a plan of the cemetery, +"Madame Jules is in the rue Marechal Lefebre, alley No. 4, between +Mademoiselle Raucourt, of the Comedie-Francaise, and Monsieur +Moreau-Malvin, a butcher, for whom a handsome tomb in white marble has +been ordered, which will be one of the finest in the cemetery--" + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, interrupting him, "that does not help us." + +"True," said the official, looking round him. "Jean," he cried, to a man +whom he saw at a little distance, "conduct these gentlemen to the +grave of Madame Jules Desmarets, the broker's wife. You know where it +is,--near to Mademoiselle Raucourt, the tomb where there's a bust." + +The two friends followed the guide; but they did not reach the steep +path which leads to the upper part of the cemetery without having +to pass through a score of proposals and requests, made, with honied +softness, by the touts of marble-workers, iron-founders, and monumental +sculptors. + +"If monsieur would like to order _something_, we would do it on the most +reasonable terms." + +Jacquet was fortunate enough to be able to spare his friend the hearing +of these proposals so agonizing to bleeding hearts; and presently they +reached the resting-place. When Jules beheld the earth so recently dug, +into which the masons had stuck stakes to mark the place for the stone +posts required to support the iron railing, he turned, and leaned upon +Jacquet's shoulder, raising himself now and again to cast long glances +at the clay mound where he was forced to leave the remains of the being +in and by whom he still lived. + +"How miserably she lies there!" he said. + +"But she is not there," said Jacquet, "she is in your memory. Come, let +us go; let us leave this odious cemetery, where the dead are adorned +like women for a ball." + +"Suppose we take her away?" + +"Can it be done?" + +"All things can be done!" cried Jules. "So, I shall lie there," he +added, after a pause. "There is room enough." + +Jacquet finally succeeded in getting him to leave the great enclosure, +divided like a chessboard by iron railings and elegant compartments, in +which were tombs decorated with palms, inscriptions, and tears as cold +as the stones on which sorrowing hearts had caused to be carved their +regrets and coats of arms. Many good words are there engraved in black +letters, epigrams reproving the curious, _concetti_, wittily turned +farewells, rendezvous given at which only one side appears, pretentious +biographies, glitter, rubbish and tinsel. Here the floriated thyrsus, +there a lance-head, farther on Egyptian urns, now and then a few +cannon; on all sides the emblems of professions, and every style of +art,--Moorish, Greek, Gothic,--friezes, ovules, paintings, vases, +guardian-angels, temples, together with innumerable _immortelles_, and +dead rose-bushes. It is a forlorn comedy! It is another Paris, with its +streets, its signs, its industries, and its lodgings; but a Paris seen +through the diminishing end of an opera-glass, a microscopic Paris +reduced to the littleness of shadows, spectres, dead men, a human race +which no longer has anything great about it, except its vanity. There +Jules saw at his feet, in the long valley of the Seine, between the +slopes of Vaugirard and Meudon and those of Belleville and Montmartre, +the real Paris, wrapped in a misty blue veil produced by smoke, which +the sunlight tendered at that moment diaphanous. He glanced with a +constrained eye at those forty thousand houses, and said, pointing to +the space comprised between the column of the Place Vendome and the +gilded cupola of the Invalides:-- + +"She was wrenched from me there by the fatal curiosity of that world +which excites itself and meddles solely for excitement and occupation." + +Twelve miles from where they were, on the banks of the Seine, in a +modest village lying on the slope of a hill of that long hilly basin the +middle of which great Paris stirs like a child in its cradle, a death +scene was taking place, far indeed removed from Parisian pomps, with no +accompaniment of torches or tapers or mourning-coaches, without prayers +of the Church, in short, a death in all simplicity. Here are the facts: +The body of a young girl was found early in the morning, stranded on the +river-bank in the slime and reeds of the Seine. Men employed in dredging +sand saw it as they were getting into their frail boat on their way to +their work. + +"_Tiens_! fifty francs earned!" said one of them. + +"True," said the other. + +They approached the body. + +"A handsome girl! We had better go and make our statement." + +And the two dredgers, after covering the body with their jackets, went +to the house of the village mayor, who was much embarrassed at having to +make out the legal papers necessitated by this discovery. + +The news of this event spread with the telegraphic rapidity peculiar to +regions where social communications have no distractions, where gossip, +scandal, calumny, in short, the social tale which feasts the world +has no break of continuity from one boundary to another. Before +long, persons arriving at the mayor's office released him from all +embarrassment. They were able to convert the _proces-verbal_ into a mere +certificate of death, by recognizing the body as that of the Demoiselle +Ida Gruget, corset-maker, living rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number +14. The judiciary police of Paris arrived, and the mother, bearing her +daughter's last letter. Amid the mother's moans, a doctor certified +to death by asphyxia, through the injection of black blood into the +pulmonary system,--which settled the matter. The inquest over, and the +certificates signed, by six o'clock the same evening authority was given +to bury the grisette. The rector of the parish, however, refused to +receive her into the church or to pray for her. Ida Gruget was +therefore wrapped in a shroud by an old peasant-woman, put into a common +pine-coffin, and carried to the village cemetery by four men, followed +by a few inquisitive peasant-women, who talked about the death with +wonder mingled with some pity. + +The widow Gruget was charitably taken in by an old lady who prevented +her from following the sad procession of her daughter's funeral. A man +of triple functions, the bell-ringer, beadle, and grave-digger of the +parish, had dug a grave in the half-acre cemetery behind the church,--a +church well known, a classic church, with a square tower and pointed +roof covered with slate, supported on the outside by strong corner +buttresses. Behind the apse of the chancel, lay the cemetery, enclosed +with a dilapidated wall,--a little field full of hillocks; no marble +monuments, no visitors, but surely in every furrow, tears and true +regrets, which were lacking to Ida Gruget. She was cast into a corner +full of tall grass and brambles. After the coffin had been laid in +this field, so poetic in its simplicity, the grave-digger found himself +alone, for night was coming on. While filling the grave, he stopped now +and then to gaze over the wall along the road. He was standing thus, +resting on his spade, and looking at the Seine, which had brought him +the body. + +"Poor girl!" cried the voice of a man who suddenly appeared. + +"How you made me jump, monsieur," said the grave-digger. + +"Was any service held over the body you are burying?" + +"No, monsieur. Monsieur le cure wasn't willing. This is the first person +buried here who didn't belong to the parish. Everybody knows everybody +else in this place. Does monsieur--Why, he's gone!" + +Some days had elapsed when a man dressed in black called at the house +of Monsieur Jules Desmarets, and without asking to see him carried up to +the chamber of his wife a large porphyry vase, on which were inscribed +the words:-- + + + INVITA LEGE + CONJUGI MOERENTI + FILIOLAE CINERES + RESTITUIT + AMICIS XII. JUVANTIBUS + MORIBUNDUS PATER. + + +"What a man!" cried Jules, bursting into tears. + +Eight days sufficed the husband to obey all the wishes of his wife, and +to arrange his own affairs. He sold his practice to a brother of Martin +Falleix, and left Paris while the authorities were still discussing +whether it was lawful for a citizen to dispose of the body of his wife. + + * * * * * + +Who has not encountered on the boulevards of Paris, at the turn of a +street, or beneath the arcades of the Palais-Royal, or in any part of +the world where chance may offer him the sight, a being, man or woman, +at whose aspect a thousand confused thoughts spring into his mind? +At that sight we are suddenly interested, either by features of some +fantastic conformation which reveal an agitated life, or by a singular +effect of the whole person, produced by gestures, air, gait, clothes; or +by some deep, intense look; or by other inexpressible signs which seize +our minds suddenly and forcibly without our being able to explain even +to ourselves the cause of our emotion. The next day other thoughts and +other images have carried out of sight that passing dream. But if we +meet the same personage again, either passing at some fixed hour, like +the clerk of a mayor's office, or wandering about the public promenades, +like those individuals who seem to be a sort of furniture of the streets +of Paris, and who are always to be found in public places, at first +representations or noted restaurants,--then this being fastens himself +or herself on our memory, and remains there like the first volume of a +novel the end of which is lost. We are tempted to question this unknown +person, and say, "Who are you?" "Why are you lounging here?" "By what +right do you wear that pleated ruffle, that faded waistcoat, and carry +that cane with an ivory top; why those blue spectacles; for what reason +do you cling to that cravat of a dead and gone fashion?" Among these +wandering creations some belong to the species of the Greek Hermae; +they say nothing to the soul; _they are there_, and that is all. Why? is +known to none. Such figure are a type of those used by sculptors for +the four Seasons, for Commerce, for Plenty, etc. Some others--former +lawyers, old merchants, elderly generals--move and walk, and yet seem +stationary. Like old trees that are half uprooted by the current of a +river, they seem never to take part in the torrent of Paris, with its +youthful, active crowd. It is impossible to know if their friends +have forgotten to bury them, or whether they have escaped out of their +coffins. At any rate, they have reached the condition of semi-fossils. + +One of these Parisian Melmoths had come within a few days into a +neighborhood of sober, quiet people, who, when the weather is fine, +are invariably to be found in the space which lies between the +south entrance of the Luxembourg and the north entrance of the +Observatoire,--a space without a name, the neutral space of Paris. +There, Paris is no longer; and there, Paris still lingers. The spot is +a mingling of street, square, boulevard, fortification, garden, avenue, +high-road, province, and metropolis; certainly, all of that is to be +found there, and yet the place is nothing of all that,--it is a desert. +Around this spot without a name stand the Foundling hospital, +the Bourbe, the Cochin hospital, the Capucines, the hospital +La Rochefoucauld, the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the hospital of the +Val-de-Grace; in short, all the vices and all the misfortunes of +Paris find their asylum there. And (that nothing may lack in this +philanthropic centre) Science there studies the tides and longitudes, +Monsieur de Chateaubriand has erected the Marie-Therese Infirmary, and +the Carmelites have founded a convent. The great events of life are +represented by bells which ring incessantly through this desert,--for +the mother giving birth, for the babe that is born, for the vice that +succumbs, for the toiler who dies, for the virgin who prays, for the old +man shaking with cold, for genius self-deluded. And a few steps off +is the cemetery of Mont-Parnasse, where, hour after hour, the sorry +funerals of the faubourg Saint-Marceau wend their way. This esplanade, +which commands a view of Paris, has been taken possession of by +bowl-players; it is, in fact, a sort of bowling green frequented by old +gray faces, belonging to kindly, worthy men, who seem to continue the +race of our ancestors, whose countenances must only be compared with +those of their surroundings. + +The man who had become, during the last few days, an inhabitant of this +desert region, proved an assiduous attendant at these games of bowls; +and must, undoubtedly, be considered the most striking creature of these +various groups, who (if it is permissible to liken Parisians to +the different orders of zoology) belonged to the genus mollusk. The +new-comer kept sympathetic step with the _cochonnet_,--the little +bowl which serves as a goal and on which the interest of the game must +centre. He leaned against a tree when the _cochonnet_ stopped; then, +with the same attention that a dog gives to his master's gestures, he +looked at the other bowls flying through the air, or rolling along the +ground. You might have taken him for the weird and watchful genii of the +_cochonnet_. He said nothing; and the bowl-players--the most fanatic +men that can be encountered among the sectarians of any faith--had never +asked the reason of his dogged silence; in fact, the most observing of +them thought him deaf and dumb. + +When it happened that the distances between the bowls and the +_cochonnet_ had to be measured, the cane of this silent being was used +as a measure, the players coming up and taking it from the icy hands +of the old man and returning it without a word or even a sign of +friendliness. The loan of his cane seemed a servitude to which he +had negatively consented. When a shower fell, he stayed near the +_cochonnet_, the slave of the bowls, and the guardian of the unfinished +game. Rain affected him no more than the fine weather did; he was, like +the players themselves, an intermediary species between a Parisian +who has the lowest intellect of his kind and an animal which has the +highest. + +In other respects, pallid and shrunken, indifferent to his own person, +vacant in mind, he often came bareheaded, showing his sparse white +hair, and his square, yellow, bald skull, like the knee of a beggar seen +through his tattered trousers. His mouth was half-open, no ideas were +in his glance, no precise object appeared in his movements; he never +smiled; he never raised his eyes to heaven, but kept them habitually on +the ground, where he seemed to be looking for something. At four o'clock +an old woman arrived, to take him Heaven knows where; which she did by +towing him along by the arm, as a young girl drags a wilful goat which +still wants to browse by the wayside. This old man was a horrible thing +to see. + +In the afternoon of the day when Jules Desmarets left Paris, his +travelling-carriage, in which he was alone, passed rapidly through the +rue de l'Est, and came out upon the esplanade of the Observatoire at the +moment when the old man, leaning against a tree, had allowed his cane +to be taken from his hand amid the noisy vociferations of the players, +pacifically irritated. Jules, thinking that he recognized that face, +felt an impulse to stop, and at the same instant the carriage came to a +standstill; for the postilion, hemmed in by some handcarts, had too much +respect for the game to call upon the players to make way for him. + +"It is he!" said Jules, beholding in that human wreck, Ferragus XXIII., +chief of the Devorants. Then, after a pause, he added, "How he loved +her!--Go on, postilion." + + + + +ADDENDUM + + Note: Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is + entitled The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with + the Golden Eyes. In other addendum references all three stories + are usually combined under the title The Thirteen. + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + + Bourignard, Gratien-Henri-Victor-Jean-Joseph + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + + Desmartes, Jules + Cesar Birotteau + + Desmartes, Madame Jules + Cesar Birotteau + + Desplein + The Atheist's Mass + Cousin Pons + Lost Illusions + The Government Clerks + Pierrette + A Bachelor's Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Honorine + + Gruget, Madame Etienne + The Government Clerks + A Bachelor's Establishment + + Haudry (doctor) + Cesar Birotteau + A Bachelor's Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Cousin Pons + + Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de + Father Goriot + The Duchesse of Langeais + + Marsay, Henri de + The Duchesse of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve + + Maulincour, Baronne de + A Marriage Settlement + + Meynardie, Madame + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + + Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de + Father Goriot + Eugenie Grandet + Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Commission in Lunacy + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Modeste Mignon + The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + + Pamiers, Vidame de + The Duchesse of Langeais + Jealousies of a Country Town + + Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Duchess of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + + Serizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + The Duchesse of Langeais + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERRAGUS *** + +***** This file should be named 1649.txt or 1649.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/1649/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..31b650a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1649 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1649) diff --git a/old/20040919-1649-h.zip b/old/20040919-1649-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..58a8148 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/20040919-1649-h.zip diff --git a/old/20040919-1649.txt b/old/20040919-1649.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1212ad --- /dev/null +++ b/old/20040919-1649.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5278 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Ferragus + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Release Date: September 19, 2004 [EBook #1649] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERRAGUS *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + FERRAGUS, + CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + + BY + + HONORE DE BALZAC + + + + Translated by + Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + + +PREPARER'S NOTE: + + Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is entitled + The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with the + Golden Eyes. The three stories are frequently combined under + the title The Thirteen. + + + + + DEDICATION + + To Hector Berlioz. + + + + PREFACE + +Thirteen men were banded together in Paris under the Empire, all +imbued with one and the same sentiment, all gifted with sufficient +energy to be faithful to the same thought, with sufficient honor among +themselves never to betray one another even if their interests +clashed; and sufficiently wily and politic to conceal the sacred ties +that united them, sufficiently strong to maintain themselves above the +law, bold enough to undertake all things, and fortunate enough to +succeed, nearly always, in their undertakings; having run the greatest +dangers, but keeping silence if defeated; inaccessible to fear; +trembling neither before princes, nor executioners, not even before +innocence; accepting each other for such as they were, without social +prejudices,--criminals, no doubt, but certainly remarkable through +certain of the qualities that make great men, and recruiting their +number only among men of mark. That nothing might be lacking to the +sombre and mysterious poesy of their history, these Thirteen men have +remained to this day unknown; though all have realized the most +chimerical ideas that the fantastic power falsely attributed to the +Manfreds, the Fausts, and the Melmoths can suggest to the imagination. +To-day, they are broken up, or, at least, dispersed; they have +peaceably put their necks once more under the yoke of civil law, just +as Morgan, that Achilles among pirates, transformed himself from a +buccaneering scourge to a quiet colonist, and spent, without remorse, +around his domestic hearth the millions gathered in blood by the lurid +light of flames and slaughter. + +Since the death of Napoleon, circumstances, about which the author +must keep silence, have still farther dissolved the original bond of +this secret society, always extraordinary, sometimes sinister, as +though it lived in the blackest pages of Mrs. Radcliffe. A somewhat +strange permission to relate in his own way a few of the adventures of +these men (while respecting certain susceptibilities) has only +recently been given to him by one of those anonymous heroes to whom +all society was once occultly subjected. In this permission the writer +fancied he detected a vague desire for personal celebrity. + +This man, apparently still young, with fair hair and blue eyes, whose +sweet, clear voice seemed to denote a feminine soul, was pale of face +and mysterious in manner; he conversed affably, declared himself not +more than forty years of age, and apparently belonged to the very +highest social classes. The name which he assumed must have been +fictitious; his person was unknown in society. Who was he? That, no +one has ever known. + +Perhaps, in confiding to the author the extraordinary matters which he +related to him, this mysterious person may have wished to see them in +a manner reproduced, and thus enjoy the emotions they were certain to +bring to the hearts of the masses,--a feeling analogous to that of +Macpherson when the name of his creation Ossian was transcribed into +all languages. That was certainly, for the Scotch lawyer, one of the +keenest, or at any rate the rarest, sensations a man could give +himself. Is it not the incognito of genius? To write the "Itinerary +from Paris to Jerusalem" is to take a share in the human glory of a +single epoch; but to endow his native land with another Homer, was not +that usurping the work of God? + +The author knows too well the laws of narration to be ignorant of the +pledges this short preface is contracting for him; but he also knows +enough of the history of the _Thirteen_ to be certain that his present +tale will never be thought below the interest inspired by this +programme. Dramas steeped in blood, comedies filled with terror, +romantic tales through which rolled heads mysteriously decapitated, +have been confided to him. If readers were not surfeited with horrors +served up to them of late in cold blood, he might reveal the calm +atrocities, the surpassing tragedies concealed under family life. But +he chooses in preference gentler events,--those where scenes of purity +succeed the tempests of passion; where woman is radiant with virtue +and beauty. To the honor of the _Thirteen_ be it said that there are +such scenes in their history, which may have the honor of being some +day published as a foil of tales to listeners,--that race apart from +others, so curiously energetic, and so interesting in spite of its +crimes. + +An author ought to be above converting his tale, when the tale is +true, into a species of surprise-game, and of taking his readers, as +certain novellists do, through many volumes and from cellar to cellar, +to show them the dry bones of a dead body, and tell them, by way of +conclusion, that _that_ is what has frightened them behind doors, hidden +in the arras, or in cellars where the dead man was buried and +forgotten. In spite of his aversion for prefaces, the author feels +bound to place the following statement at the head of this narrative. +Ferragus is a first episode which clings by invisible links to the +"History of the _Thirteen_," whose power, naturally acquired, can alone +explain certain acts and agencies which would otherwise seem +supernatural. Although it is permissible in tellers of tales to have a +sort of literary coquetry in becoming historians, they ought to +renounce the benefit that may accrue from an odd or fantastic title +--on which certain slight successes have been won in the present day. +Consequently, the author will now explain, succinctly, the reasons +that obliged him to select a title to his book which seems at first +sight unnatural. + +_Ferragus_ is, according to ancient custom, a name taken by the chief +or Grand Master of the Devorants. On the day of their election these +chiefs continue whichever of the dynasties of their Order they are +most in sympathy with, precisely as the Popes do, on their accession, +in connection with pontifical dynasties. Thus the Devorants have +"Trempe-la Soupe IX.," "Ferragus XXII.," "Tutanus XIII.," "Masche-Fer +IV.," just as the Church has Clement XIV., Gregory VII., Julius II., +Alexander VI., etc. + +Now, then, who are the Devorants? "Devorant" is the name of one of +those tribes of "Companions" that issued in ancient times from the +great mystical association formed among the workers of Christianity to +rebuild the temple at Jerusalem. Companionism (to coin a word) still +exists in France among the people. Its traditions, powerful over minds +that are not enlightened, and over men not educated enough to cast +aside an oath, might serve the ends of formidable enterprises if some +rough-hewn genius were to seize hold of these diverse associations. +All the instruments of this Companionism are well-nigh blind. From +town to town there has existed from time immemorial, for the use of +Companions, an "Obade,"--a sort of halting-place, kept by a "Mother," +an old woman, half-gypsy, with nothing to lose, knowing everything +that happens in her neighborhood, and devoted, either from fear or +habit, to the tribe, whose straggling members she feeds and lodges. +This people, ever moving and changing, though controlled by immutable +customs, has its eyes everywhere, executes, without judging it, a +WILL,--for the oldest Companion still belongs to an era when men had +faith. Moreover, the whole body professes doctrines that are +sufficiently true and sufficiently mysterious to electrify into a sort +of tribal loyalty all adepts whenever they obtain even a slight +development. The attachment of the Companions to their laws is so +passionate that the diverse tribes will fight sanguinary battles with +each other in defence of some question of principle. + +Happily for our present public safety, when a Devorant is ambitious, +he builds houses, lays by his money, and leaves the Order. There is +many a curious thing to tell about the "Compagnons du Devoir" +[Companions of the Duty], the rivals of the Devorants, and about the +different sects of working-men, their usages, their fraternity, and +the bond existing between them and the free-masons. But such details +would be out of place here. The author must, however, add that under +the old monarchy it was not an unknown thing to find a +"Trempe-la-Soupe" enslaved to the king sentenced for a hundred and one +years to the galleys, but ruling his tribe from there, religiously +consulted by it, and when he escaped from his galley, certain of help, +succor, and respect, wherever he might be. To see its grand master at +the galleys is, to the faithful tribe, only one of those misfortunes +for which providence is responsible, and which does not release the +Devorants from obeying a power created by them to be above them. It +is but the passing exile of their legitimate king, always a king for +them. Thus we see the romantic prestige attaching to the name of +Ferragus and to that of the Devorants completely dissipated. + +As for the _Thirteen_, they were all men of the stamp of Trelawney, Lord +Byron's friend, who was, they say, the original of his "Corsair." They +were all fatalists, men of nerve and poesy, weary of leading flat and +empty lives, driven toward Asiatic enjoyments by forces all the more +excessive because, long dormant, they awoke furious. One of them, +after re-reading "Venice Preserved," and admiring the sublime union of +Pierre and Jaffier, began to reflect on the virtues shown by men who +are outlawed by society, on the honesty of galley-slaves, the +faithfulness of thieves among each other, the privileges of exorbitant +power which such men know how to win by concentrating all ideas into a +single will. He saw that Man is greater than men. He concluded that +society ought to belong wholly to those distinguished beings who, to +natural intelligence, acquired wisdom, and fortune, add a fanaticism +hot enough to fuse into one casting these different forces. That done, +their occult power, vast in action and in intensity, against which the +social order would be helpless, would cast down all obstacles, blast +all other wills, and give to each the devilish power of all. This +world apart within the world, hostile to the world, admitting none of +the world's ideas, not recognizing any law, not submitting to any +conscience but that of necessity, obedient to a devotion only, acting +with every faculty for a single associate when one of their number +asked for the assistance of all,--this life of filibusters in lemon +kid gloves and cabriolets; this intimate union of superior beings, +cold and sarcastic, smiling and cursing in the midst of a false and +puerile society; this certainty of forcing all things to serve an end, +of plotting a vengeance that could not fail of living in thirteen +hearts; this happiness of nurturing a secret hatred in the face of +men, and of being always in arms against this; this ability to +withdraw to the sanctuary of self with one idea more than even the +most remarkable of men could have,--this religion of pleasure and +egotism cast so strong a spell over Thirteen men that they revived the +society of Jesuits to the profit of the devil. + +It was horrible and stupendous; but the compact was made, and it +lasted precisely because it appeared to be so impossible. + +There was, therefore, in Paris a brotherhood of _Thirteen_, who belonged +to each other absolutely, but ignored themselves as absolutely before +the world. At night they met, like conspirators, hiding no thought, +disposing each and all of a common fortune, like that of the Old Man +of the Mountain; having their feet in all salons, their hands in all +money-boxes, and making all things serve their purpose or their fancy +without scruple. No chief commanded them; no one member could arrogate +to himself that power. The most eager passion, the most exacting +circumstance, alone had the right to pass first. They were Thirteen +unknown kings,--but true kings, more than ordinary kings and judges +and executioners,--men who, having made themselves wings to roam +through society from depth to height, disdained to be anything in the +social sphere because they could be all. If the present writer ever +learns the reasons of their abdication of this power, he will take +occasion to tell them.[*] + +[*] See Theophile Gautier's account of the society of the "Cheval + Rouge." Memoir of Balzac. Roberts Brothers, Boston. + +Now, with this brief explanation, he may be allowed to begin the tale +of certain episodes in the history of the _Thirteen_, which have more +particularly attracted him by the Parisian flavor of their details and +the whimsicality of their contrasts. + + + + + FERRAGUS, + CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + + + + CHAPTER I + + MADAME JULES + +Certain streets in Paris are as degraded as a man covered with infamy; +also, there are noble streets, streets simply respectable, young +streets on the morality of which the public has not yet formed an +opinion; also cut-throat streets, streets older than the age of the +oldest dowagers, estimable streets, streets always clean, streets +always dirty, working, laboring, and mercantile streets. In short, the +streets of Paris have every human quality, and impress us, by what we +must call their physiognomy, with certain ideas against which we are +defenceless. There are, for instance, streets of a bad neighborhood in +which you could not be induced to live, and streets where you would +willingly take up your abode. Some streets, like the rue Montmartre, +have a charming head, and end in a fish's tail. The rue de la Paix is +a wide street, a fine street, yet it wakens none of those gracefully +noble thoughts which come to an impressible mind in the middle of the +rue Royale, and it certainly lacks the majesty which reigns in the +Place Vendome. + +If you walk the streets of the Ile Saint-Louis, do not seek the reason +of the nervous sadness that lays hold upon you save in the solitude of +the spot, the gloomy look of the houses, and the great deserted +mansions. This island, the ghost of _fermiers-generaux_, is the Venice +of Paris. The Place de la Bourse is voluble, busy, degraded; it is +never fine except by moonlight at two in the morning. By day it is +Paris epitomized; by night it is a dream of Greece. The rue +Traversiere-Saint-Honore--is not that a villainous street? Look at the +wretched little houses with two windows on a floor, where vice, crime, +and misery abound. The narrow streets exposed to the north, where the +sun never comes more than three or four times a year, are the +cut-throat streets which murder with impunity; the authorities of the +present day do not meddle with them; but in former times the +Parliament might perhaps have summoned the lieutenant of police and +reprimanded him for the state of things; and it would, at least, have +issued some decree against such streets, as it once did against the +wigs of the Chapter of Beauvais. And yet Monsieur Benoiston de +Chateauneuf has proved that the mortality of these streets is double +that of others! To sum up such theories by a single example: is not +the rue Fromentin both murderous and profligate! + +These observations, incomprehensible out of Paris, will doubtless be +understood by musing men of thought and poesy and pleasure, who know, +while rambling about Paris, how to harvest the mass of floating +interests which may be gathered at all hours within her walls; to them +Paris is the most delightful and varied of monsters: here, a pretty +woman; farther on, a haggard pauper; here, new as the coinage of a new +reign; there, in this corner, elegant as a fashionable woman. A +monster, moreover, complete! Its garrets, as it were, a head full of +knowledge and genius; its first storeys stomachs repleted; its shops, +actual feet, where the busy ambulating crowds are moving. Ah! what an +ever-active life the monster leads! Hardly has the last vibration of +the last carriage coming from a ball ceased at its heart before its +arms are moving at the barriers and it shakes itself slowly into +motion. Doors open; turning on their hinges like the membrane of some +huge lobster, invisibly manipulated by thirty thousand men or women, +of whom each individual occupies a space of six square feet, but has a +kitchen, a workshop, a bed, children, a garden, little light to see +by, but must see all. Imperceptibly, the articulations begin to crack; +motion communicates itself; the street speaks. By mid-day, all is +alive; the chimneys smoke, the monster eats; then he roars, and his +thousand paws begin to ramp. Splendid spectacle! But, O Paris! he who +has not admired your gloomy passages, your gleams and flashes of +light, your deep and silent _cul-de-sacs_, who has not listened to +your murmurings between midnight and two in the morning, knows nothing +as yet of your true poesy, nor of your broad and fantastic contrasts. + +There are a few amateurs who never go their way heedlessly; who savor +their Paris, so to speak; who know its physiognomy so well that they +see every wart, and pimple, and redness. To others, Paris is always +that monstrous marvel, that amazing assemblage of activities, of +schemes, of thoughts; the city of a hundred thousand tales, the head +of the universe. But to those few, Paris is sad or gay, ugly or +beautiful, living or dead; to them Paris is a creature; every man, +every fraction of a house is a lobe of the cellular tissue of that +great courtesan whose head and heart and fantastic customs they know +so well. These men are lovers of Paris; they lift their noses at such +or such a corner of a street, certain that they can see the face of a +clock; they tell a friend whose tobacco-pouch is empty, "Go down that +passage and turn to the left; there's a tobacconist next door to a +confectioner, where there's a pretty girl." Rambling about Paris is, +to these poets, a costly luxury. How can they help spending precious +minutes before the dramas, disasters, faces, and picturesque events +which meet us everywhere amid this heaving queen of cities, clothed in +posters,--who has, nevertheless, not a single clean corner, so +complying is she to the vices of the French nation! Who has not +chanced to leave his home early in the morning, intending to go to +some extremity of Paris, and found himself unable to get away from the +centre of it by the dinner-hour? Such a man will know how to excuse +this vagabondizing start upon our tale; which, however, we here sum up +in an observation both useful and novel, as far as any observation can +be novel in Paris, where there is nothing new,--not even the statue +erected yesterday, on which some young gamin has already scribbled his +name. + +Well, then! there are streets, or ends of streets, there are houses, +unknown for the most part to persons of social distinction, to which a +woman of that class cannot go without causing cruel and very wounding +things to be thought of her. Whether the woman be rich and has a +carriage, whether she is on foot, or is disguised, if she enters one +of these Parisian defiles at any hour of the day, she compromises her +reputation as a virtuous woman. If, by chance, she is there at nine in +the evening the conjectures that an observer permits himself to make +upon her may prove fearful in their consequences. But if the woman is +young and pretty, if she enters a house in one of those streets, if +the house has a long, dark, damp, and evil-smelling passage-way, at +the end of which flickers the pallid gleam of an oil lamp, and if +beneath that gleam appears the horrid face of a withered old woman +with fleshless fingers, ah, then! and we say it in the interests of +young and pretty women, that woman is lost. She is at the mercy of the +first man of her acquaintance who sees her in that Parisian slough. +There is more than one street in Paris where such a meeting may lead +to a frightful drama, a bloody drama of death and love, a drama of the +modern school. + +Unhappily, this scene, this modern drama itself, will be comprehended +by only a small number of persons; and it is a pity to tell the tale +to a public which cannot enter into its local merit. But who can +flatter himself that he will ever be understood? We all die unknown +--'tis the saying of women and of authors. + +At half-past eight o'clock one evening, in the rue Pagevin, in the +days when that street had no wall which did not echo some infamous +word, and was, in the direction of the rue Soly, the narrowest and +most impassable street in Paris (not excepting the least frequented +corner of the most deserted street),--at the beginning of the month of +February about thirteen years ago, a young man, by one of those +chances which come but once in life, turned the corner of the rue +Pagevin to enter the rue des Vieux-Augustins, close to the rue Soly. +There, this young man, who lived himself in the rue de Bourbon, saw in +a woman near whom he had been unconsciously walking, a vague +resemblance to the prettiest woman in Paris; a chaste and delightful +person, with whom he was secretly and passionately in love,--a love +without hope; she was married. In a moment his heart leaped, an +intolerable heat surged from his centre and flowed through all his +veins; his back turned cold, the skin of his head crept. He loved, he +was young, he knew Paris; and his knowledge did not permit him to be +ignorant of all there was of possible infamy in an elegant, rich, +young, and beautiful woman walking there, alone, with a furtively +criminal step. _She_ in that mud! at that hour! + +The love that this young man felt for that woman may seem romantic, +and all the more so because he was an officer in the Royal Guard. If +he had been in the infantry, the affair might have seemed more likely; +but, as an officer of rank in the cavalry, he belonged to that French +arm which demands rapidity in its conquests and derives as much vanity +from its amorous exploits as from its dashing uniform. But the passion +of this officer was a true love, and many young hearts will think it +noble. He loved this woman because she was virtuous; he loved her +virtue, her modest grace, her imposing saintliness, as the dearest +treasures of his hidden passion. This woman was indeed worthy to +inspire one of those platonic loves which are found, like flowers amid +bloody ruins, in the history of the middle-ages; worthy to be the +hidden principle of all the actions of a young man's life; a love as +high, as pure as the skies when blue; a love without hope and to which +men bind themselves because it can never deceive; a love that is +prodigal of unchecked enjoyment, especially at an age when the heart +is ardent, the imagination keen, and the eyes of a man see very +clearly. + +Strange, weird, inconceivable effects may be met with at night in +Paris. Only those who have amused themselves by watching those effects +have any idea how fantastic a woman may appear there at dusk. At times +the creature whom you are following, by accident or design, seems to +you light and slender; the stockings, if they are white, make you +fancy that the legs must be slim and elegant; the figure though +wrapped in a shawl, or concealed by a pelisse, defines itself +gracefully and seductively among the shadows; anon, the uncertain +gleam thrown from a shop-window or a street lamp bestows a fleeting +lustre, nearly always deceptive, on the unknown woman, and fires the +imagination, carrying it far beyond the truth. The senses then bestir +themselves; everything takes color and animation; the woman appears in +an altogether novel aspect; her person becomes beautiful. Behold! she +is not a woman, she is a demon, a siren, who is drawing you by +magnetic attraction to some respectable house, where the worthy +_bourgeoise_, frightened by your threatening step and the clack of +your boots, shuts the door in your face without looking at you. + +A vacillating gleam, thrown from the shop-window of a shoemaker, +suddenly illuminated from the waist down the figure of the woman who +was before the young man. Ah! surely, _she_ alone had that swaying +figure; she alone knew the secret of that chaste gait which innocently +set into relief the many beauties of that attractive form. Yes, that +was the shawl, and that the velvet bonnet which she wore in the +mornings. On her gray silk stockings not a spot, on her shoes not a +splash. The shawl held tightly round the bust disclosed, vaguely, its +charming lines; and the young man, who had often seen those shoulders +at a ball, knew well the treasures that the shawl concealed. By the +way a Parisian woman wraps a shawl around her, and the way she lifts +her feet in the street, a man of intelligence in such studies can +divine the secret of her mysterious errand. There is something, I know +not what, of quivering buoyancy in the person, in the gait; the woman +seems to weigh less; she steps, or rather, she glides like a star, and +floats onward led by a thought which exhales from the folds and motion +of her dress. The young man hastened his step, passed the woman, and +then turned back to look at her. Pst! she had disappeared into a +passage-way, the grated door of which and its bell still rattled and +sounded. The young man walked back to the alley and saw the woman +reach the farther end, where she began to mount--not without receiving +the obsequious bow of an old portress--a winding staircase, the lower +steps of which were strongly lighted; she went up buoyantly, eagerly, +as though impatient. + +"Impatient for what?" said the young man to himself, drawing back to +lean against a wooden railing on the other side of the street. He +gazed, unhappy man, at the different storeys of the house, with the +keen attention of a detective searching for a conspirator. + +It was one of those houses of which there are thousands in Paris, +ignoble, vulgar, narrow, yellowish in tone, with four storeys and +three windows on each floor. The outer blinds of the first floor were +closed. Where was she going? The young man fancied he heard the tinkle +of a bell on the second floor. As if in answer to it, a light began to +move in a room with two windows strongly illuminated, which presently +lit up the third window, evidently that of a first room, either the +salon or the dining-room of the apartment. Instantly the outline of a +woman's bonnet showed vaguely on the window, and a door between the +two rooms must have closed, for the first was dark again, while the +two other windows resumed their ruddy glow. At this moment a voice +said, "Hi, there!" and the young man was conscious of a blow on his +shoulder. + +"Why don't you pay attention?" said the rough voice of a workman, +carrying a plank on his shoulder. The man passed on. He was the voice +of Providence saying to the watcher: "What are you meddling with? +Think of your own duty; and leave these Parisians to their own +affairs." + +The young man crossed his arms; then, as no one beheld him, he +suffered tears of rage to flow down his cheeks unchecked. At last the +sight of the shadows moving behind the lighted windows gave him such +pain that he looked elsewhere and noticed a hackney-coach, standing +against a wall in the upper part of the rue des Vieux-Augustins, at a +place where there was neither the door of a house, nor the light of a +shop-window. + +Was it she? Was it not she? Life or death to a lover! This lover +waited. He stood there during a century of twenty minutes. After that +the woman came down, and he then recognized her as the one whom he +secretly loved. Nevertheless, he wanted still to doubt. She went to +the hackney-coach, and got into it. + +"The house will always be there and I can search it later," thought +the young man, following the carriage at a run, to solve his last +doubts; and soon he did so. + +The carriage stopped in the rue de Richelieu before a shop for +artificial flowers, close to the rue de Menars. The lady got out, +entered the shop, sent out the money to pay the coachman, and +presently left the shop herself, on foot, after buying a bunch of +marabouts. Marabouts for her black hair! The officer beheld her, +through the window-panes, placing the feathers to her head to see the +effect, and he fancied he could hear the conversation between herself +and the shop-woman. + +"Oh! madame, nothing is more suitable for brunettes: brunettes have +something a little too strongly marked in their lines, and marabouts +give them just that _flow_ which they lack. Madame la Duchesse de +Langeais says they give a woman something vague, Ossianic, and very +high-bred." + +"Very good; send them to me at once." + +Then the lady turned quickly toward the rue de Menars, and entered her +own house. When the door closed on her, the young lover, having lost +his hopes, and worse, far worse, his dearest beliefs, walked through +the streets like a drunken man, and presently found himself in his own +room without knowing how he came there. He flung himself into an +arm-chair, put his head in his hands and his feet on the andirons, +drying his boots until he burned them. It was an awful moment,--one of +those moments in human life when the character is moulded, and the +future conduct of the best of men depends on the good or evil fortune +of his first action. Providence or fatality?--choose which you will. + +This young man belonged to a good family, whose nobility was not very +ancient; but there are so few really old families in these days, that +all men of rank are ancient without dispute. His grandfather had +bought the office of counsellor to the Parliament of Paris, where he +afterwards became president. His sons, each provided with a handsome +fortune, entered the army, and through their marriages became attached +to the court. The Revolution swept the family away; but one old +dowager, too obstinate to emigrate, was left; she was put in prison, +threatened with death, but was saved by the 9th Thermidor and +recovered her property. When the proper time came, about the year +1804, she recalled her grandson to France. Auguste de Maulincour, the +only scion of the Carbonnon de Maulincour, was brought up by the good +dowager with the triple care of a mother, a woman of rank, and an +obstinate dowager. When the Restoration came, the young man, then +eighteen years of age, entered the Maison-Rouge, followed the princes +to Ghent, was made an officer in the body-guard, left it to serve in +the line, but was recalled later to the Royal Guard, where, at +twenty-three years of age, he found himself major of a cavalry regiment, +--a splendid position, due to his grandmother, who had played her cards +well to obtain it, in spite of his youth. This double biography is a +compendium of the general and special history, barring variations, of +all the noble families who emigrated having debts and property, +dowagers and tact. + +Madame la Baronne de Maulincour had a friend in the old Vidame de +Pamiers, formerly a commander of the Knights of Malta. This was one of +those undying friendships founded on sexagenary ties which nothing can +weaken, because at the bottom of such intimacies there are certain +secrets of the human heart, delightful to guess at when we have the +time, insipid to explain in twenty words, and which might make the +text of a work in four volumes as amusing as the Doyen de Killerine, +--a work about which young men talk and judge without having read it. + +Auguste de Maulincour belonged therefore to the faubourg Saint-Germain +through his grandmother and the vidame, and it sufficed him to date +back two centuries to take the tone and opinions of those who assume +to go back to Clovis. This young man, pale, slender, and delicate in +appearance, a man of honor and true courage, who would fight a duel +for a yes or a no, had never yet fought upon a battle-field, though he +wore in his button-hole the cross of the Legion of honor. He was, as +you perceive, one of the blunders of the Restoration, perhaps the most +excusable of them. The youth of those days was the youth of no epoch. +It came between the memories of the Empire and those of the +Emigration, between the old traditions of the court and the +conscientious education of the _bourgeoisie_; between religion and +fancy-balls; between two political faiths, between Louis XVIII., who +saw only the present, and Charles X., who looked too far into the +future; it was moreover bound to accept the will of the king, though +the king was deceiving and tricking it. This unfortunate youth, blind +and yet clear-sighted, was counted as nothing by old men jealously +keeping the reins of the State in their feeble hands, while the +monarchy could have been saved by their retirement and the accession +of this Young France, which the old doctrinaires, the _emigres_ of the +Restoration, still speak of slightingly. Auguste de Maulincour was a +victim to the ideas which weighed in those days upon French youth, and +we must here explain why. + +The Vidame de Pamiers was still, at sixty-seven years of age, a very +brilliant man, having seen much and lived much; a good talker, a man +of honor and a gallant man, but who held as to women the most +detestable opinions; he loved them, and he despised them. _Their_ +honor! _their_ feelings! Ta-ra-ra, rubbish and shams! When he was with +them, he believed in them, the ci-devant "monstre"; he never +contradicted them, and he made them shine. But among his male friends, +when the topic of the sex came up, he laid down the principle that to +deceive women, and to carry on several intrigues at once, should be +the occupation of those young men who were so misguided as to wish to +meddle in the affairs of the State. It is sad to have to sketch so +hackneyed a portrait, for has it not figured everywhere and become, +literally, as threadbare as that of a grenadier of the Empire? But the +vidame had an influence on Monsieur de Maulincour's destiny which +obliges us to preserve his portrait; he lectured the young man after +his fashion, and did his best to convert him to the doctrines of the +great age of gallantry. + +The dowager, a tender-hearted, pious woman, sitting between God and +her vidame, a model of grace and sweetness, but gifted with that +well-bred persistency which triumphs in the long run, had longed to +preserve for her grandson the beautiful illusions of life, and had +therefore brought him up in the highest principles; she instilled into +him her own delicacy of feeling and made him, to outward appearance, a +timid man, if not a fool. The sensibilities of the young fellow, +preserved pure, were not worn by contact without; he remained so +chaste, so scrupulous, that he was keenly offended by actions and +maxims to which the world attached no consequence. Ashamed of this +susceptibility, he forced himself to conceal it under a false +hardihood; but he suffered in secret, all the while scoffing with +others at the things he reverenced. + +It came to pass that he was deceived; because, in accordance with a +not uncommon whim of destiny, he, a man of gentle melancholy, and +spiritual in love, encountered in the object of his first passion a +woman who held in horror all German sentimentalism. The young man, in +consequence, distrusted himself, became dreamy, absorbed in his +griefs, complaining of not being understood. Then, as we desire all +the more violently the things we find difficult to obtain, he +continued to adore women with that ingenuous tenderness and feline +delicacy the secret of which belongs to women themselves, who may, +perhaps, prefer to keep the monopoly of it. In point of fact, though +women of the world complain of the way men love them, they have little +liking themselves for those whose soul is half feminine. Their own +superiority consists in making men believe they are their inferiors in +love; therefore they will readily leave a lover if he is inexperienced +enough to rob them of those fears with which they seek to deck +themselves, those delightful tortures of feigned jealousy, those +troubles of hope betrayed, those futile expectations,--in short, the +whole procession of their feminine miseries. They hold Sir Charles +Grandison in horror. What can be more contrary to their nature than a +tranquil, perfect love? They want emotions; happiness without storms +is not happiness to them. Women with souls that are strong enough to +bring infinitude into love are angelic exceptions; they are among +women what noble geniuses are among men. Their great passions are rare +as masterpieces. Below the level of such love come compromises, +conventions, passing and contemptible irritations, as in all things +petty and perishable. + +Amid the hidden disasters of his heart, and while he was still seeking +the woman who could comprehend him (a search which, let us remark in +passing, is one of the amorous follies of our epoch), Auguste met, in +the rank of society that was farthest from his own, in the secondary +sphere of money, where banking holds the first place, a perfect being, +one of those women who have I know not what about them that is saintly +and sacred,--women who inspire such reverence that love has need of +the help of a long familiarity to declare itself. + +Auguste then gave himself up wholly to the delights of the deepest and +most moving of passions, to a love that was purely adoring. +Innumerable repressed desires there were, shadows of passion so vague +yet so profound, so fugitive and yet so actual, that one scarcely +knows to what we may compare them. They are like perfumes, or clouds, +or rays of the sun, or shadows, or whatever there is in nature that +shines for a moment and disappears, that springs to life and dies, +leaving in the heart long echoes of emotion. When the soul is young +enough to nurture melancholy and far-off hope, to find in woman more +than a woman, is it not the greatest happiness that can befall a man +when he loves enough to feel more joy in touching a gloved hand, or a +lock of hair, in listening to a word, in casting a single look, than +in all the ardor of possession given by happy love? Thus it is that +rejected persons, those rebuffed by fate, the ugly and unfortunate, +lovers unrevealed, women and timid men, alone know the treasures +contained in the voice of the beloved. Taking their source and their +element from the soul itself, the vibrations of the air, charged with +passion, put our hearts so powerfully into communion, carrying thought +between them so lucidly, and being, above all, so incapable of +falsehood, that a single inflection of a voice is often a revelation. +What enchantments the intonations of a tender voice can bestow upon +the heart of a poet! What ideas they awaken! What freshness they shed +there! Love is in the voice before the glance avows it. Auguste, poet +after the manner of lovers (there are poets who feel, and poets who +express; the first are the happiest), Auguste had tasted all these +early joys, so vast, so fecund. SHE possessed the most winning organ +that the most artful woman of the world could have desired in order to +deceive at her ease; _she_ had that silvery voice which is soft to the +ear, and ringing only for the heart which it stirs and troubles, +caresses and subjugates. + +And this woman went by night to the rue Soly through the rue Pagevin! +and her furtive apparition in an infamous house had just destroyed the +grandest of passions! The vidame's logic triumphed. + +"If she is betraying her husband we will avenge ourselves," said +Auguste. + +There was still faith in that "if." The philosophic doubt of Descartes +is a politeness with which we should always honor virtue. Ten o'clock +sounded. The Baron de Maulincour remembered that this woman was going +to a ball that evening at a house to which he had access. He dressed, +went there, and searched for her through all the salons. The mistress +of the house, Madame de Nucingen, seeing him thus occupied, said:-- + +"You are looking for Madame Jules; but she has not yet come." + +"Good evening, dear," said a voice. + +Auguste and Madame de Nucingen turned round. Madame Jules had arrived, +dressed in white, looking simple and noble, wearing in her hair the +marabouts the young baron had seen her choose in the flower-shop. That +voice of love now pierced his heart. Had he won the slightest right to +be jealous of her he would have petrified her then and there by saying +the words, "Rue Soly!" But if he, an alien to her life, had said those +words in her ear a thousand times, Madame Jules would have asked him +in astonishment what he meant. He looked at her stupidly. + +For those sarcastic persons who scoff at all things it may be a great +amusement to detect the secret of a woman, to know that her chastity +is a lie, that her calm face hides some anxious thought, that under +that pure brow is a dreadful drama. But there are other souls to whom +the sight is saddening; and many of those who laugh in public, when +withdrawn into themselves and alone with their conscience, curse the +world while they despise the woman. Such was the case with Auguste de +Maulincour, as he stood there in presence of Madame Jules. Singular +situation! There was no other relation between them than that which +social life establishes between persons who exchange a few words seven +or eight times in the course of a winter, and yet he was calling her +to account on behalf of a happiness unknown to her; he was judging +her, without letting her know of his accusation. + +Many young men find themselves thus in despair at having broken +forever with a woman adored in secret, condemned and despised in +secret. There are many hidden monologues told to the walls of some +solitary lodging; storms roused and calmed without ever leaving the +depths of hearts; amazing scenes of the moral world, for which a +painter is wanted. Madame Jules sat down, leaving her husband to make +a turn around the salon. After she was seated she seemed uneasy, and, +while talking with her neighbor, she kept a furtive eye on Monsieur +Jules Desmarets, her husband, a broker chiefly employed by the Baron +de Nucingen. The following is the history of their home life. + +Monsieur Desmarets was, five years before his marriage, in a broker's +office, with no other means than the meagre salary of a clerk. But he +was a man to whom misfortune had early taught the truths of life, and +he followed the strait path with the tenacity of an insect making for +its nest; he was one of those dogged young men who feign death before +an obstacle and wear out everybody's patience with their own +beetle-like perseverance. Thus, young as he was, he had all the +republican virtue of poor peoples; he was sober, saving of his time, +an enemy to pleasure. He waited. Nature had given him the immense +advantage of an agreeable exterior. His calm, pure brow, the shape of +his placid, but expressive face, his simple manners,--all revealed in +him a laborious and resigned existence, that lofty personal dignity +which is imposing to others, and the secret nobility of heart which +can meet all events. His modesty inspired a sort of respect in those +who knew him. Solitary in the midst of Paris, he knew the social world +only by glimpses during the brief moments which he spent in his +patron's salon on holidays. + +There were passions in this young man, as in most of the men who live +in that way, of amazing profundity,--passions too vast to be drawn +into petty incidents. His want of means compelled him to lead an +ascetic life, and he conquered his fancies by hard work. After paling +all day over figures, he found his recreation in striving obstinately +to acquire that wide general knowledge so necessary in these days to +every man who wants to make his mark, whether in society, or in +commerce, at the bar, or in politics or literature. The only peril +these fine souls have to fear comes from their own uprightness. They +see some poor girl; they love her; they marry her, and wear out their +lives in a struggle between poverty and love. The noblest ambition is +quenched perforce by the household account-book. Jules Desmarets went +headlong into this peril. + +He met one evening at his patron's house a girl of the rarest beauty. +Unfortunate men who are deprived of affection, and who consume the +finest hours of youth in work and study, alone know the rapid ravages +that passion makes in their lonely, misconceived hearts. They are so +certain of loving truly, all their forces are concentrated so quickly +on the object of their love, that they receive, while beside her, the +most delightful sensations, when, as often happens, they inspire none +at all. Nothing is more flattering to a woman's egotism than to divine +this passion, apparently immovable, and these emotions so deep that +they have needed a great length of time to reach the human surface. +These poor men, anchorites in the midst of Paris, have all the +enjoyments of anchorites; and may sometimes succumb to temptations. +But, more often deceived, betrayed, and misunderstood, they are rarely +able to gather the sweet fruits of a love which, to them, is like a +flower dropped from heaven. + +One smile from his wife, a single inflection of her voice sufficed to +make Jules Desmarets conceive a passion which was boundless. Happily, +the concentrated fire of that secret passion revealed itself artlessly +to the woman who inspired it. These two beings then loved each other +religiously. To express all in a word, they clasped hands without +shame before the eyes of the world and went their way like two +children, brother and sister, passing serenely through a crowd where +all made way for them and admired them. + +The young girl was in one of those unfortunate positions which human +selfishness entails upon children. She had no civil status; her name +of "Clemence" and her age were recorded only by a notary public. As +for her fortune, that was small indeed. Jules Desmarets was a happy +man on hearing these particulars. If Clemence had belonged to an +opulent family, he might have despaired of obtaining her; but she was +only the poor child of love, the fruit of some terrible adulterous +passion; and they were married. Then began for Jules Desmarets a +series of fortunate events. Every one envied his happiness; and +henceforth talked only of his luck, without recalling either his +virtues or his courage. + +Some days after their marriage, the mother of Clemence, who passed in +society for her godmother, told Jules Desmarets to buy the office and +good-will of a broker, promising to provide him with the necessary +capital. In those days, such offices could still be bought at a modest +price. That evening, in the salon as it happened of his patron, a +wealthy capitalist proposed, on the recommendation of the mother, a +very advantageous transaction for Jules Desmarets, and the next day +the happy clerk was able to buy out his patron. In four years +Desmarets became one of the most prosperous men in his business; new +clients increased the number his predecessor had left to him; he +inspired confidence in all; and it was impossible for him not to feel, +by the way business came to him, that some hidden influence, due to +his mother-in-law, or to Providence, was secretly protecting him. + +At the end of the third year Clemence lost her godmother. By that time +Monsieur Jules (so called to distinguish him from an elder brother, +whom he had set up as a notary in Paris) possessed an income from +invested property of two hundred thousand francs. There was not in all +Paris another instance of the domestic happiness enjoyed by this +couple. For five years their exceptional love had been troubled by +only one event,--a calumny for which Monsieur Jules exacted vengeance. +One of his former comrades attributed to Madame Jules the fortune of +her husband, explaining that it came from a high protection dearly +paid for. The man who uttered the calumny was killed in the duel that +followed it. + +The profound passion of this couple, which survived marriage, obtained +a great success in society, though some women were annoyed by it. The +charming household was respected; everybody feted it. Monsieur and +Madame Jules were sincerely liked, perhaps because there is nothing +more delightful to see than happy people; but they never stayed long +at any festivity. They slipped away early, as impatient to regain +their nest as wandering pigeons. This nest was a large and beautiful +mansion in the rue de Menars, where a true feeling for art tempered +the luxury which the financial world continues, traditionally, to +display. Here the happy pair received their society magnificently, +although the obligations of social life suited them but little. + +Nevertheless, Jules submitted to the demands of the world, knowing +that, sooner or later, a family has need of it; but he and his wife +felt themselves, in its midst, like green-house plants in a tempest. +With a delicacy that was very natural, Jules had concealed from his +wife the calumny and the death of the calumniator. Madame Jules, +herself, was inclined, through her sensitive and artistic nature, to +desire luxury. In spite of the terrible lesson of the duel, some +imprudent women whispered to each other that Madame Jules must +sometimes be pressed for money. They often found her more elegantly +dressed in her own home than when she went into society. She loved to +adorn herself to please her husband, wishing to show him that to her +he was more than any social life. A true love, a pure love, above all, +a happy love! Jules, always a lover, and more in love as time went by, +was happy in all things beside his wife, even in her caprices; in +fact, he would have been uneasy if she had none, thinking it a symptom +of some illness. + +Auguste de Maulincour had the personal misfortune of running against +this passion, and falling in love with the wife beyond recovery. +Nevertheless, though he carried in his heart so intense a love, he was +not ridiculous; he complied with all the demands of society, and of +military manners and customs. And yet his face wore constantly, even +though he might be drinking a glass of champagne, that dreamy look, +that air of silently despising life, that nebulous expression which +belongs, though for other reasons, to _blases_ men,--men dissatisfied +with hollow lives. To love without hope, to be disgusted with life, +constitute, in these days, a social position. The enterprise of +winning the heart of a sovereign might give, perhaps, more hope than a +love rashly conceived for a happy woman. Therefore Maulincour had +sufficient reason to be grave and gloomy. A queen has the vanity of +her power; the height of her elevation protects her. But a pious +_bourgeoise_ is like a hedgehog, or an oyster, in its rough wrappings. + +At this moment the young officer was beside his unconscious mistress, +who certainly was unaware that she was doubly faithless. Madame Jules +was seated, in a naive attitude, like the least artful woman in +existence, soft and gentle, full of a majestic serenity. What an abyss +is human nature! Before beginning a conversation, the baron looked +alternately at the wife and at the husband. How many were the +reflections he made! He recomposed the "Night Thoughts" of Young in a +second. And yet the music was sounding through the salons, the light +was pouring from a thousand candles. It was a banker's ball,--one of +those insolent festivals by means of which the world of solid gold +endeavored to sneer at the gold-embossed salons where the faubourg +Saint-Germain met and laughed, not foreseeing the day when the bank +would invade the Luxembourg and take its seat upon the throne. The +conspirators were now dancing, indifferent to coming bankruptcies, +whether of Power or of the Bank. The gilded salons of the Baron de +Nucingen were gay with that peculiar animation that the world of +Paris, apparently joyous at any rate, gives to its fetes. There, men +of talent communicate their wit to fools, and fools communicate that +air of enjoyment that characterizes them. By means of this exchange +all is liveliness. But a ball in Paris always resembles fireworks to a +certain extent; wit, coquetry, and pleasure sparkle and go out like +rockets. The next day all present have forgotten their wit, their +coquetry, their pleasure. + +"Ah!" thought Auguste, by way of conclusion, "women are what the +vidame says they are. Certainly all those dancing here are less +irreproachable actually than Madame Jules appears to be, and yet +Madame Jules went to the rue Soly!" + +The rue Soly was like an illness to him; the very word shrivelled his +heart. + +"Madame, do you ever dance?" he said to her. + +"This is the third time you have asked me that question this winter," +she answered, smiling. + +"But perhaps you have never answered it." + +"That is true." + +"I knew very well that you were false, like other women." + +Madame Jules continued to smile. + +"Listen, monsieur," she said; "if I told you the real reason, you +would think it ridiculous. I do not think it false to abstain from +telling things that the world would laugh at." + +"All secrets demand, in order to be told, a friendship of which I am +no doubt unworthy, madame. But you cannot have any but noble secrets; +do you think me capable of jesting on noble things?" + +"Yes," she said, "you, like all the rest, laugh at our purest +sentiments; you calumniate them. Besides, I have no secrets. I have +the right to love my husband in the face of all the world, and I say +so,--I am proud of it; and if you laugh at me when I tell you that I +dance only with him, I shall have a bad opinion of your heart." + +"Have you never danced since your marriage with any one but your +husband?" + +"Never. His arm is the only one on which I have leaned; I have never +felt the touch of another man." + +"Has your physician never felt your pulse?" + +"Now you are laughing at me." + +"No, madame, I admire you, because I comprehend you. But you let a man +hear your voice, you let yourself be seen, you--in short, you permit +our eyes to admire you--" + +"Ah!" she said, interrupting him, "that is one of my griefs. Yes, I +wish it were possible for a married woman to live secluded with her +husband, as a mistress lives with her lover, for then--" + +"Then why were you, two hours ago, on foot, disguised, in the rue +Soly?" + +"The rue Soly, where is that?" + +And her pure voice gave no sign of any emotion; no feature of her face +quivered; she did not blush; she remained calm. + +"What! you did not go up to the second floor of a house in the rue des +Vieux-Augustins at the corner of the rue Soly? You did not have a +hackney-coach waiting near by? You did not return in it to the +flower-shop in the rue Richelieu, where you bought the feathers that +are now in your hair?" + +"I did not leave my house this evening." + +As she uttered that lie she was smiling and imperturbable; she played +with her fan; but if any one had passed a hand down her back they +would, perhaps, have found it moist. At that instant Auguste +remembered the instructions of the vidame. + +"Then it was some one who strangely resembled you," he said, with a +credulous air. + +"Monsieur," she replied, "if you are capable of following a woman and +detecting her secrets, you will allow me to say that it is a wrong, a +very wrong thing, and I do you the honor to say that I disbelieve +you." + +The baron turned away, placed himself before the fireplace and seemed +thoughtful. He bent his head; but his eyes were covertly fixed on +Madame Jules, who, not remembering the reflections in the mirror, cast +two or three glances at him that were full of terror. Presently she +made a sign to her husband and rising took his arm to walk about the +salon. As she passed before Monsieur de Maulincour, who at that moment +was speaking to a friend, he said in a loud voice, as if in reply to a +remark: "That woman will certainly not sleep quietly this night." +Madame Jules stopped, gave him an imposing look which expressed +contempt, and continued her way, unaware that another look, if +surprised by her husband, might endanger not only her happiness but +the lives of two men. Auguste, frantic with anger, which he tried to +smother in the depths of his soul, presently left the house, swearing +to penetrate to the heart of the mystery. Before leaving, he sought +Madame Jules, to look at her again; but she had disappeared. + +What a drama cast into that young head so eminently romantic, like all +who have not known love in the wide extent which they give to it. He +adored Madame Jules under a new aspect; he loved her now with the fury +of jealousy and the frenzied anguish of hope. Unfaithful to her +husband, the woman became common. Auguste could now give himself up to +the joys of successful love, and his imagination opened to him a +career of pleasures. Yes, he had lost the angel, but he had found the +most delightful of demons. He went to bed, building castles in the +air, excusing Madame Jules by some romantic fiction in which he did +not believe. He resolved to devote himself wholly, from that day +forth, to a search for the causes, motives, and keynote of this +mystery. It was a tale to read, or better still, a drama to be played, +in which he had a part. + + + + CHAPTER II + + FERRAGUS + +A fine thing is the task of a spy, when performed for one's own +benefit and in the interests of a passion. Is it not giving ourselves +the pleasure of a thief and a rascal while continuing honest men? But +there is another side to it; we must resign ourselves to boil with +anger, to roar with impatience, to freeze our feet in the mud, to be +numbed, and roasted, and torn by false hopes. We must go, on the faith +of a mere indication, to a vague object, miss our end, curse our luck, +improvise to ourselves elegies, dithyrambics, exclaim idiotically +before inoffensive pedestrians who observe us, knock over old +apple-women and their baskets, run hither and thither, stand on guard +beneath a window, make a thousand suppositions. But, after all, it is +a chase, a hunt; a hunt in Paris, a hunt with all its chances, minus +dogs and guns and the tally-ho! Nothing compares with it but the life +of gamblers. But it needs a heart big with love and vengeance to +ambush itself in Paris, like a tiger waiting to spring upon its prey, +and to enjoy the chances and contingencies of Paris, by adding one +special interest to the many that abound there. But for this we need a +many-sided soul--for must we not live in a thousand passions, a +thousand sentiments? + +Auguste de Maulincour flung himself into this ardent existence +passionately, for he felt all its pleasures and all its misery. He +went disguised about Paris, watching at the corners of the rue Pagevin +and the rue des Vieux-Augustins. He hurried like a hunter from the rue +de Menars to the rue Soly, and back from the rue Soly to the rue de +Menars, without obtaining either the vengeance or the knowledge which +would punish or reward such cares, such efforts, such wiles. But he +had not yet reached that impatience which wrings our very entrails and +makes us sweat; he roamed in hope, believing that Madame Jules would +only refrain for a few days from revisiting the place where she knew +she had been detected. He devoted the first days therefore, to a +careful study of the secrets of the street. A novice at such work, he +dared not question either the porter or the shoemaker of the house to +which Madame Jules had gone; but he managed to obtain a post of +observation in a house directly opposite to the mysterious apartment. +He studied the ground, trying to reconcile the conflicting demands of +prudence, impatience, love, and secrecy. + +Early in the month of March, while busy with plans by which he +expected to strike a decisive blow, he left his post about four in the +afternoon, after one of those patient watches from which he had +learned nothing. He was on his way to his own house whither a matter +relating to his military service called him, when he was overtaken in +the rue Coquilliere by one of those heavy showers which instantly +flood the gutters, while each drop of rain rings loudly in the puddles +of the roadway. A pedestrian under these circumstances is forced to +stop short and take refuge in a shop or cafe if he is rich enough to +pay for the forced hospitality, or, if in poorer circumstances, under +a _porte-cochere_, that haven of paupers or shabbily dressed persons. +Why have none of our painters ever attempted to reproduce the +physiognomies of a swarm of Parisians, grouped, under stress of +weather, in the damp _porte-cochere_ of a building? First, there's the +musing philosophical pedestrian, who observes with interest all he +sees,--whether it be the stripes made by the rain on the gray +background of the atmosphere (a species of chasing not unlike the +capricious threads of spun glass), or the whirl of white water which +the wind is driving like a luminous dust along the roofs, or the +fitful disgorgements of the gutter-pipes, sparkling and foaming; in +short, the thousand nothings to be admired and studied with delight by +loungers, in spite of the porter's broom which pretends to be sweeping +out the gateway. Then there's the talkative refugee, who complains and +converses with the porter while he rests on his broom like a grenadier +on his musket; or the pauper wayfarer, curled against the wall +indifferent to the condition of his rags, long used, alas, to contact +with the streets; or the learned pedestrian who studies, spells, and +reads the posters on the walls without finishing them; or the smiling +pedestrian who makes fun of others to whom some street fatality has +happened, who laughs at the muddy women, and makes grimaces at those +of either sex who are looking from the windows; and the silent being +who gazes from floor to floor; and the working-man, armed with a +satchel or a paper bundle, who is estimating the rain as a profit or +loss; and the good-natured fugitive, who arrives like a shot +exclaiming, "Ah! what weather, messieurs, what weather!" and bows to +every one; and, finally, the true _bourgeois_ of Paris, with his +unfailing umbrella, an expert in showers, who foresaw this particular +one, but would come out in spite of his wife; this one takes a seat in +the porter's chair. According to individual character, each member of +this fortuitous society contemplates the skies, and departs, skipping +to avoid the mud,--because he is in a hurry, or because he sees other +citizens walking along in spite of wind and slush, or because, the +archway being damp and mortally catarrhal, the bed's edge, as the +proverb says, is better than the sheets. Each one has his motive. No +one is left but the prudent pedestrian, the man who, before he sets +forth, makes sure of a scrap of blue sky through the rifting clouds. + +Monsieur de Maulincour took refuge, as we have said, with a whole +family of fugitives, under the porch of an old house, the court-yard +of which looked like the flue of a chimney. The sides of its +plastered, nitrified, and mouldy walls were so covered with pipes and +conduits from all the many floors of its four elevations, that it +might have been said to resemble at that moment the _cascatelles_ of +Saint-Cloud. Water flowed everywhere; it boiled, it leaped, it +murmured; it was black, white, blue, and green; it shrieked, it +bubbled under the broom of the portress, a toothless old woman used to +storms, who seemed to bless them as she swept into the street a mass +of scraps an intelligent inventory of which would have revealed the +lives and habits of every dweller in the house,--bits of printed +cottons, tea-leaves, artificial flower-petals faded and worthless, +vegetable parings, papers, scraps of metal. At every sweep of her +broom the old woman bared the soul of the gutter, that black fissure +on which a porter's mind is ever bent. The poor lover examined this +scene, like a thousand others which our heaving Paris presents daily; +but he examined it mechanically, as a man absorbed in thought, when, +happening to look up, he found himself all but nose to nose with a man +who had just entered the gateway. + +In appearance this man was a beggar, but not the Parisian beggar, +--that creation without a name in human language; no, this man formed +another type, while presenting on the outside all the ideas suggested +by the word "beggar." He was not marked by those original Parisian +characteristics which strike us so forcibly in the paupers whom +Charlet was fond of representing, with his rare luck in observation, +--coarse faces reeking of mud, hoarse voices, reddened and bulbous +noses, mouths devoid of teeth but menacing; humble yet terrible +beings, in whom a profound intelligence shining in their eyes seems +like a contradiction. Some of these bold vagabonds have blotched, +cracked, veiny skins; their foreheads are covered with wrinkles, their +hair scanty and dirty, like a wig thrown on a dust-heap. All are gay +in their degradation, and degraded in their joys; all are marked with +the stamp of debauchery, casting their silence as a reproach; their +very attitude revealing fearful thoughts. Placed between crime and +beggary they have no compunctions, and circle prudently around the +scaffold without mounting it, innocent in the midst of crime, and +vicious in their innocence. They often cause a laugh, but they always +cause reflection. One represents to you civilization stunted, +repressed; he comprehends everything, the honor of the galleys, +patriotism, virtue, the malice of a vulgar crime, or the fine +astuteness of elegant wickedness. Another is resigned, a perfect +mimer, but stupid. All have slight yearnings after order and work, but +they are pushed back into their mire by society, which makes no +inquiry as to what there may be of great men, poets, intrepid souls, +and splendid organizations among these vagrants, these gypsies of +Paris; a people eminently good and eminently evil--like all the masses +who suffer--accustomed to endure unspeakable woes, and whom a fatal +power holds ever down to the level of the mire. They all have a dream, +a hope, a happiness,--cards, lottery, or wine. + +There was nothing of all this in the personage who now leaned +carelessly against the wall in front of Monsieur de Maulincour, like +some fantastic idea drawn by an artist on the back of a canvas the +front of which is turned to the wall. This tall, spare man, whose +leaden visage expressed some deep but chilling thought, dried up all +pity in the hearts of those who looked at him by the scowling look and +the sarcastic attitude which announced an intention of treating every +man as an equal. His face was of a dirty white, and his wrinkled +skull, denuded of hair, bore a vague resemblance to a block of +granite. A few gray locks on either side of his head fell straight to +the collar of his greasy coat, which was buttoned to the chin. He +resembled both Voltaire and Don Quixote; he was, apparently, scoffing +but melancholy, full of disdain and philosophy, but half-crazy. He +seemed to have no shirt. His beard was long. A rusty black cravat, +much worn and ragged, exposed a protuberant neck deeply furrowed, with +veins as thick as cords. A large brown circle like a bruise was +strongly marked beneath his eyes, He seemed to be at least sixty years +old. His hands were white and clean. His boots were trodden down at +the heels, and full of holes. A pair of blue trousers, mended in +various places, were covered with a species of fluff which made them +offensive to the eye. Whether it was that his damp clothes exhaled a +fetid odor, or that he had in his normal condition the "poor smell" +which belongs to Parisian tenements, just as offices, sacristies, and +hospitals have their own peculiar and rancid fetidness, of which no +words can give the least idea, or whether some other reason affected +them, those in the vicinity of this man immediately moved away and +left him alone. He cast upon them and also upon the officer a calm, +expressionless look, the celebrated look of Monsieur de Talleyrand, a +dull, wan glance, without warmth, a species of impenetrable veil, +beneath which a strong soul hides profound emotions and close +estimation of men and things and events. Not a fold of his face +quivered. His mouth and forehead were impassible; but his eyes moved +and lowered themselves with a noble, almost tragic slowness. There +was, in fact, a whole drama in the motion of those withered eyelids. + +The aspect of this stoical figure gave rise in Monsieur de Maulincour +to one of those vagabond reveries which begin with a common question +and end by comprising a world of thought. The storm was past. Monsieur +de Maulincour presently saw no more of the man than the tail of his +coat as it brushed the gate-post, but as he turned to leave his own +place he noticed at his feet a letter which must have fallen from the +unknown beggar when he took, as the baron had seen him take, a +handkerchief from his pocket. The young man picked it up, and read, +involuntarily, the address: "To Monsieur Ferragusse, Rue des +Grands-Augustains, corner of rue Soly." + +The letter bore no postmark, and the address prevented Monsieur de +Maulincour from following the beggar and returning it; for there are +few passions that will not fail in rectitude in the long run. The +baron had a presentiment of the opportunity afforded by this windfall. +He determined to keep the letter, which would give him the right to +enter the mysterious house to return it to the strange man, not +doubting that he lived there. Suspicions, vague as the first faint +gleams of daylight, made him fancy relations between this man and +Madame Jules. A jealous lover supposes everything; and it is by +supposing everything and selecting the most probable of their +conjectures that judges, spies, lovers, and observers get at the truth +they are looking for. + +"Is the letter for him? Is it from Madame Jules?" + +His restless imagination tossed a thousand such questions to him; but +when he read the first words of the letter he smiled. Here it is, +textually, in all the simplicity of its artless phrases and its +miserable orthography,--a letter to which it would be impossible to +add anything, or to take anything away, unless it were the letter +itself. But we have yielded to the necessity of punctuating it. In the +original there were neither commas nor stops of any kind, not even +notes of exclamation,--a fact which tends to undervalue the system of +notes and dashes by which modern authors have endeavored to depict the +great disasters of all the passions:-- + + + Henry,--Among the manny sacrifisis I imposed upon myself for your + sake was that of not giving you anny news of me; but an + iresistible voise now compells me to let you know the wrong you + have done me. I know beforehand that your soul hardened in vise + will not pitty me. Your heart is deaf to feeling. Is it deaf to + the cries of nature? But what matter? I must tell you to what a + dredful point you are gilty, and the horror of the position to + which you have brought me. Henry, you knew what I sufered from my + first wrong-doing, and yet you plunged me into the same misery, + and then abbandoned me to my dispair and sufering. Yes, I will say + it, the belif I had that you loved me and esteemed me gave me + corage to bare my fate. But now, what have I left? Have you not + made me loose all that was dear to me, all that held me to life; + parents, frends, onor, reputation,--all, I have sacrifised all to + you, and nothing is left me but shame, oprobrum, and--I say this + without blushing--poverty. Nothing was wanting to my misfortunes + but the sertainty of your contempt and hatred; and now I have them + I find the corage that my project requires. My decision is made; + the onor of my famly commands it. I must put an end to my + suferins. Make no remarks upon my conduct, Henry; it is orful, I + know, but my condition obliges me. Without help, without suport, + without one frend to comfort me, can I live? No. Fate has desided + for me. So in two days, Henry, two days, Ida will have seased to + be worthy of your regard. Oh, Henry! oh, my frend! for I can never + change to you, promise me to forgive me for what I am going to do. + Do not forget that you have driven me to it; it is your work, and + you must judge it. May heven not punish you for all your crimes. I + ask your pardon on my knees, for I feel nothing is wanting to my + misery but the sorow of knowing you unhappy. In spite of the + poverty I am in I shall refuse all help from you. If you had loved + me I would have taken all from your friendship; but a benfit given + by pitty _my soul refussis_. I would be baser to take it than he + who offered it. I have one favor to ask of you. I don't know how + long I must stay at Madame Meynardie's; be genrous enough not to + come there. Your last two vissits did me a harm I cannot get ofer. + I cannot enter into particlers about that conduct of yours. You + hate me,--you said so; that word is writen on my heart, and + freeses it with fear. Alas! it is now, when I need all my corage, + all my strength, that my faculties abandon me. Henry, my frend, + before I put a barrier forever between us, give me a last pruf of + your esteem. Write me, answer me, say you respect me still, though + you have seased to love me. My eyes are worthy still to look into + yours, but I do not ask an interfew; I fear my weakness and my + love. But for pitty's sake write me a line at once; it will give + me the corage I need to meet my trubbles. Farewell, orther of all + my woes, but the only frend my heart has chosen and will never + forget. + +Ida. + + +This life of a young girl, with its love betrayed, its fatal joys, its +pangs, its miseries, and its horrible resignation, summed up in a few +words, this humble poem, essentially Parisian, written on dirty paper, +influenced for a passing moment Monsieur de Maulincour. He asked +himself whether this Ida might not be some poor relation of Madame +Jules, and that strange rendezvous, which he had witnessed by chance, +the mere necessity of a charitable effort. But could that old pauper +have seduced this Ida? There was something impossible in the very +idea. Wandering in this labyrinth of reflections, which crossed, +recrossed, and obliterated one another, the baron reached the rue +Pagevin, and saw a hackney-coach standing at the end of the rue des +Vieux-Augustins where it enters the rue Montmartre. All waiting +hackney-coaches now had an interest for him. + +"Can she be there?" he thought to himself, and his heart beat fast +with a hot and feverish throbbing. + +He pushed the little door with the bell, but he lowered his head as he +did so, obeying a sense of shame, for a voice said to him secretly:-- + +"Why are you putting your foot into this mystery?" + +He went up a few steps, and found himself face to face with the old +portress. + +"Monsieur Ferragus?" he said. + +"Don't know him." + +"Doesn't Monsieur Ferragus live here?" + +"Haven't such a name in the house." + +"But, my good woman--" + +"I'm not your good woman, monsieur, I'm the portress." + +"But, madame," persisted the baron, "I have a letter for Monsieur +Ferragus." + +"Ah! if monsieur has a letter," she said, changing her tone, "that's +another matter. Will you let me see it--that letter?" + +Auguste showed the folded letter. The old woman shook her head with a +doubtful air, hesitated, seemed to wish to leave the lodge and inform +the mysterious Ferragus of his unexpected visitor, but finally said:-- + +"Very good; go up, monsieur. I suppose you know the way?" + +Without replying to this remark, which he thought might be a trap, the +young officer ran lightly up the stairway, and rang loudly at the door +of the second floor. His lover's instinct told him, "She is there." + +The beggar of the porch, Ferragus, the "orther" of Ida's woes, opened +the door himself. He appeared in a flowered dressing-gown, white +flannel trousers, his feet in embroidered slippers, and his face +washed clean of stains. Madame Jules, whose head projected beyond the +casing of the door in the next room, turned pale and dropped into a +chair. + +"What is the matter, madame?" cried the officer, springing toward her. + +But Ferragus stretched forth an arm and flung the intruder back with +so sharp a thrust that Auguste fancied he had received a blow with an +iron bar full on his chest. + +"Back! monsieur," said the man. "What do you want there? For five or +six days you have been roaming about the neighborhood. Are you a spy?" + +"Are you Monsieur Ferragus?" said the baron. + +"No, monsieur." + +"Nevertheless," continued Auguste, "it is to you that I must return +this paper which you dropped in the gateway beneath which we both took +refuge from the rain." + +While speaking and offering the letter to the man, Auguste did not +refrain from casting an eye around the room where Ferragus received +him. It was very well arranged, though simply. A fire burned on the +hearth; and near it was a table with food upon it, which was served +more sumptuously than agreed with the apparent conditions of the man +and the poorness of his lodging. On a sofa in the next room, which he +could see through the doorway, lay a heap of gold, and he heard a +sound which could be no other than that of a woman weeping. + +"The paper belongs to me; I am much obliged to you," said the +mysterious man, turning away as if to make the baron understand that +he must go. + +Too curious himself to take much note of the deep examination of which +he was himself the object, Auguste did not see the half-magnetic +glance with which this strange being seemed to pierce him; had he +encountered that basilisk eye he might have felt the danger that +encompassed him. Too passionately excited to think of himself, Auguste +bowed, went down the stairs, and returned home, striving to find a +meaning in the connection of these three persons,--Ida, Ferragus, and +Madame Jules; an occupation equivalent to that of trying to arrange +the many-cornered bits of a Chinese puzzle without possessing the key +to the game. But Madame Jules had seen him, Madame Jules went there, +Madame Jules had lied to him. Maulincour determined to go and see her +the next day. She could not refuse his visit, for he was now her +accomplice; he was hands and feet in the mysterious affair, and she +knew it. Already he felt himself a sultan, and thought of demanding +from Madame Jules, imperiously, all her secrets. + +In those days Paris was seized with a building-fever. If Paris is a +monster, it is certainly a most mania-ridden monster. It becomes +enamored of a thousand fancies: sometimes it has a mania for building, +like a great seigneur who loves a trowel; soon it abandons the trowel +and becomes all military; it arrays itself from head to foot as a +national guard, and drills and smokes; suddenly, it abandons military +manoeuvres and flings away cigars; it is commercial, care-worn, falls +into bankruptcy, sells its furniture on the place de Chatelet, files +its schedule; but a few days later, lo! it has arranged its affairs +and is giving fetes and dances. One day it eats barley-sugar by the +mouthful, by the handful; yesterday it bought "papier Weymen"; to-day +the monster's teeth ache, and it applies to its walls an +alexipharmatic to mitigate their dampness; to-morrow it will lay in a +provision of pectoral paste. It has its manias for the month, for the +season, for the year, like its manias of a day. + +So, at the moment of which we speak, all the world was building or +pulling down something,--people hardly knew what as yet. There were +very few streets in which high scaffoldings on long poles could not be +seen, fastened from floor to floor with transverse blocks inserted +into holes in the walls on which the planks were laid,--a frail +construction, shaken by the brick-layers, but held together by ropes, +white with plaster, and insecurely protected from the wheels of +carriages by the breastwork of planks which the law requires round all +such buildings. There is something maritime in these masts, and +ladders, and cordage, even in the shouts of the masons. About a dozen +yards from the hotel Maulincour, one of these ephemeral barriers was +erected before a house which was then being built of blocks of +free-stone. The day after the event we have just related, at the +moment when the Baron de Maulincour was passing this scaffolding in +his cabriolet on his way to see Madame Jules, a stone, two feet square, +which was being raised to the upper storey of this building, got loose +from the ropes and fell, crushing the baron's servant who was behind +the cabriolet. A cry of horror shook both the scaffold and the masons; +one of them, apparently unable to keep his grasp on a pole, was in +danger of death, and seemed to have been touched by the stone as it +passed him. + +A crowd collected rapidly; the masons came down the ladders swearing +and insisting that Monsieur de Maulincour's cabriolet had been driven +against the boarding and so had shaken their crane. Two inches more +and the stone would have fallen on the baron's head. The groom was +dead, the carriage shattered. 'Twas an event for the whole +neighborhood, the newspapers told of it. Monsieur de Maulincour, +certain that he had not touched the boarding, complained; the case +went to court. Inquiry being made, it was shown that a small boy, +armed with a lath, had mounted guard and called to all foot-passengers +to keep away. The affair ended there. Monsieur de Maulincour obtained +no redress. He had lost his servant, and was confined to his bed for +some days, for the back of the carriage when shattered had bruised him +severely, and the nervous shock of the sudden surprise gave him a +fever. He did not, therefore, go to see Madame Jules. + +Ten days after this event, he left the house for the first time, in +his repaired cabriolet, when, as he drove down the rue de Bourgogne +and was close to the sewer opposite to the Chamber of Deputies, the +axle-tree broke in two, and the baron was driving so rapidly that the +breakage would have caused the two wheels to come together with force +enough to break his head, had it not been for the resistance of the +leather hood. Nevertheless, he was badly wounded in the side. For the +second time in ten days he was carried home in a fainting condition to +his terrified grandmother. This second accident gave him a feeling of +distrust; he thought, though vaguely, of Ferragus and Madame Jules. To +throw light on these suspicions he had the broken axle brought to his +room and sent for his carriage-maker. The man examined the axle and +the fracture, and proved two things: First, the axle was not made in +his workshop; he furnished none that did not bear the initials of his +name on the iron. But he could not explain by what means this axle had +been substituted for the other. Secondly, the breakage of the +suspicious axle was caused by a hollow space having been blown in it +and a straw very cleverly inserted. + +"Eh! Monsieur le baron, whoever did that was malicious!" he said; "any +one would swear, to look at it, that the axle was sound." + +Monsieur de Maulincour begged the carriage-maker to say nothing of the +affair; but he felt himself warned. These two attempts at murder were +planned with an ability which denoted the enmity of intelligent minds. + +"It is war to the death," he said to himself, as he tossed in his bed, +--"a war of savages, skulking in ambush, of trickery and treachery, +declared in the name of Madame Jules. What sort of man is this to whom +she belongs? What species of power does this Ferragus wield?" + +Monsieur de Maulincour, though a soldier and brave man, could not +repress a shudder. In the midst of many thoughts that now assailed +him, there was one against which he felt he had neither defence nor +courage: might not poison be employed ere long by his secret enemies? +Under the influence of fears, which his momentary weakness and fever +and low diet increased, he sent for an old woman long attached to the +service of his grandmother, whose affection for himself was one of +those semi-maternal sentiments which are the sublime of the +commonplace. Without confiding in her wholly, he charged her to buy +secretly and daily, in different localities, the food he needed; +telling her to keep it under lock and key and bring it to him herself, +not allowing any one, no matter who, to approach her while preparing +it. He took the most minute precautions to protect himself against +that form of death. He was ill in his bed and alone, and he had +therefore the leisure to think of his own security,--the one necessity +clear-sighted enough to enable human egotism to forget nothing! + +But the unfortunate man had poisoned his own life by this dread, and, +in spite of himself, suspicion dyed all his hours with its gloomy +tints. These two lessons of attempted assassination did teach him, +however, the value of one of the virtues most necessary to a public +man; he saw the wise dissimulation that must be practised in dealing +with the great interests of life. To be silent about our own secret is +nothing; but to be silent from the start, to forget a fact as Ali +Pacha did for thirty years in order to be sure of a vengeance waited +for for thirty years, is a fine study in a land where there are few +men who can keep their own counsel for thirty days. Monsieur de +Maulincour literally lived only through Madame Jules. He was +perpetually absorbed in a sober examination into the means he ought to +employ to triumph in this mysterious struggle with these mysterious +persons. His secret passion for that woman grew by reason of all these +obstacles. Madame Jules was ever there, erect, in the midst of his +thoughts, in the centre of his heart, more seductive by her presumable +vices than by the positive virtues for which he had made her his idol. + +At last, anxious to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, he thought +he might without danger initiate the vidame into the secrets of his +situation. The old commander loved Auguste as a father loves his +wife's children; he was shrewd, dexterous, and very diplomatic. He +listened to the baron, shook his head, and they both held counsel. The +worthy vidame did not share his young friend's confidence when Auguste +declared that in the time in which they now lived, the police and the +government were able to lay bare all mysteries, and that if it were +absolutely necessary to have recourse to those powers, he should find +them most powerful auxiliaries. + +The old man replied, gravely: "The police, my dear boy, is the most +incompetent thing on this earth, and government the feeblest in all +matters concerning individuals. Neither the police nor the government +can read hearts. What we might reasonably ask of them is to search for +the causes of an act. But the police and the government are both +eminently unfitted for that; they lack, essentially, the personal +interest which reveals all to him who wants to know all. No human +power can prevent an assassin or a poisoner from reaching the heart of +a prince or the stomach of an honest man. Passions are the best +police." + +The vidame strongly advised the baron to go to Italy, and from Italy +to Greece, from Greece to Syria, from Syria to Asia, and not to return +until his secret enemies were convinced of his repentance, and would +so make tacit peace with him. But if he did not take that course, then +the vidame advised him to stay in the house, and even in his own room, +where he would be safe from the attempts of this man Ferragus, and not +to leave it until he could be certain of crushing him. + +"We should never touch an enemy until we can be sure of taking his +head off," he said, gravely. + +The old man, however, promised his favorite to employ all the +astuteness with which Heaven had provided him (without compromising +any one) in reconnoitring the enemy's ground, and laying his plans for +future victory. The Commander had in his service a retired Figaro, the +wiliest monkey that ever walked in human form; in earlier days as +clever as a devil, working his body like a galley-slave, alert as a +thief, sly as a woman, but now fallen into the decadence of genius for +want of practice since the new constitution of Parisian society, which +has reformed even the valets of comedy. This Scapin emeritus was +attached to his master as to a superior being; but the shrewd old +vidame added a good round sum yearly to the wages of his former +provost of gallantry, which strengthened the ties of natural affection +by the bonds of self-interest, and obtained for the old gentleman as +much care as the most loving mistress could bestow on a sick friend. +It was this pearl of the old-fashioned comedy-valets, relic of the +last century, auxiliary incorruptible from lack of passions to +satisfy, on whom the old vidame and Monsieur de Maulincour now relied. + +"Monsieur le baron will spoil all," said the great man in livery, when +called into counsel. "Monsieur should eat, drink, and sleep in peace. +I take the whole matter upon myself." + +Accordingly, eight days after the conference, when Monsieur de +Maulincour, perfectly restored to health, was breakfasting with his +grandmother and the vidame, Justin entered to make his report. As soon +as the dowager had returned to her own apartments he said, with that +mock modesty which men of talent are so apt to affect:-- + +"Ferragus is not the name of the enemy who is pursuing Monsieur le +baron. This man--this devil, rather--is called Gratien, Henri, Victor, +Jean-Joseph Bourignard. The Sieur Gratien Bourignard is a former +ship-builder, once very rich, and, above all, one of the handsomest +men of his day in Paris,--a Lovelace, capable of seducing Grandison. My +information stops short there. He has been a simple workman; and the +Companions of the Order of the Devorants did, at one time, elect him +as their chief, under the title of Ferragus XXIII. The police ought to +know that, if the police were instituted to know anything. The man has +moved from the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and now roosts rue Joquelet, +where Madame Jules Desmarets goes frequently to see him; sometimes her +husband, on his way to the Bourse, drives her as far as the rue +Vivienne, or she drives her husband to the Bourse. Monsieur le vidame +knows about these things too well to want me to tell him if it is the +husband who takes the wife, or the wife who takes the husband; but +Madame Jules is so pretty, I'd bet on her. All that I have told you is +positive. Bourignard often plays at number 129. Saving your presence, +monsieur, he's a rogue who loves women, and he has his little ways +like a man of condition. As for the rest, he wins sometimes, disguises +himself like an actor, paints his face to look like anything he +chooses, and lives, I may say, the most original life in the world. I +don't doubt he has a good many lodgings, for most of the time he +manages to evade what Monsieur le vidame calls 'parliamentary +investigations.' If monsieur wishes, he could be disposed of +honorably, seeing what his habits are. It is always easy to get rid of +a man who loves women. However, this capitalist talks about moving +again. Have Monsieur le vidame and Monsieur le baron any other +commands to give me?" + +"Justin, I am satisfied with you; don't go any farther in the matter +without my orders, but keep a close watch here, so that Monsieur le +baron may have nothing to fear." + +"My dear boy," continued the vidame, when they were alone, "go back to +your old life, and forget Madame Jules." + +"No, no," said Auguste; "I will never yield to Gratien Bourignard. I +will have him bound hand and foot, and Madame Jules also." + +That evening the Baron Auguste de Maulincour, recently promoted to +higher rank in the company of the Body-Guard of the king, went to a +ball given by Madame la Duchesse de Berry at the Elysee-Bourbon. +There, certainly, no danger could lurk for him; and yet, before he +left the palace, he had an affair of honor on his hands,--an affair it +was impossible to settle except by a duel. + +His adversary, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, considered that he had +strong reasons to complain of Monsieur de Maulincour, who had given +some ground for it during his former intimacy with Monsieur de +Ronquerolles' sister, the Comtesse de Serizy. That lady, the one who +detested German sentimentality, was all the more exacting in the +matter of prudery. By one of those inexplicable fatalities, Auguste +now uttered a harmless jest which Madame de Serizy took amiss, and her +brother resented it. The discussion took place in the corner of a +room, in a low voice. In good society, adversaries never raise their +voices. The next day the faubourg Saint-Germain and the Chateau talked +over the affair. Madame de Serizy was warmly defended, and all the +blame was laid on Maulincour. August personages interfered. Seconds of +the highest distinction were imposed on Messieurs de Maulincour and de +Ronquerolles and every precaution was taken on the ground that no one +should be killed. + +When Auguste found himself face to face with his antagonist, a man of +pleasure, to whom no one could possibly deny sentiments of the highest +honor, he felt it was impossible to believe him the instrument of +Ferragus, chief of the Devorants; and yet he was compelled, as it +were, by an inexplicable presentiment, to question the marquis. + +"Messieurs," he said to the seconds, "I certainly do not refuse to +meet the fire of Monsieur de Ronquerolles; but before doing so, I here +declare that I was to blame, and I offer him whatever excuses he may +desire, and publicly if he wishes it; because when the matter concerns +a woman, nothing, I think, can degrade a man of honor. I therefore +appeal to his generosity and good sense; is there not something rather +silly in fighting without a cause?" + +Monsieur de Ronquerolles would not allow of this way of ending the +affair, and then the baron, his suspicions revived, walked up to him. + +"Well, then! Monsieur le marquis," he said, "pledge me, in presence of +these gentlemen, your word as a gentleman that you have no other +reason for vengeance than that you have chosen to put forward." + +"Monsieur, that is a question you have no right to ask." + +So saying, Monsieur de Ronquerolles took his place. It was agreed, in +advance, that the adversaries were to be satisfied with one exchange +of shots. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, in spite of the great distance +determined by the seconds, which seemed to make the death of either +party problematical, if not impossible, brought down the baron. The +ball went through the latter's body just below the heart, but +fortunately without doing vital injury. + +"You aimed too well, monsieur," said the baron, "to be avenging only a +paltry quarrel." + +And he fainted. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, who believed him to be a +dead man, smiled sardonically as he heard those words. + +After a fortnight, during which time the dowager and the vidame gave +him those cares of old age the secret of which is in the hands of long +experience only, the baron began to return to life. But one morning +his grandmother dealt him a crushing blow, by revealing anxieties to +which, in her last days, she was now subjected. She showed him a +letter signed F, in which the history of her grandson's secret +espionage was recounted step by step. The letter accused Monsieur de +Maulincour of actions that were unworthy of a man of honor. He had, it +said, placed an old woman at the stand of hackney-coaches in the rue +de Menars; an old spy, who pretended to sell water from her cask to +the coachmen, but who was really there to watch the actions of Madame +Jules Desmarets. He had spied upon the daily life of a most +inoffensive man, in order to detect his secrets,--secrets on which +depended the lives of three persons. He had brought upon himself a +relentless struggle, in which, although he had escaped with life three +times, he must inevitably succumb, because his death had been sworn +and would be compassed if all human means were employed upon it. +Monsieur de Maulincour could no longer escape his fate by even +promising to respect the mysterious life of these three persons, +because it was impossible to believe the word of a gentleman who had +fallen to the level of a police-spy; and for what reason? Merely to +trouble the respectable life of an innocent woman and a harmless old +man. + +The letter itself was nothing to Auguste in comparison to the tender +reproaches of his grandmother. To lack respect to a woman! to spy upon +her actions without a right to do so! Ought a man ever to spy upon a +woman whom he loved?--in short, she poured out a torrent of those +excellent reasons which prove nothing; and they put the young baron, +for the first time in his life, into one of those great human furies +in which are born, and from which issue the most vital actions of a +man's life. + +"Since it is war to the knife," he said in conclusion, "I shall kill +my enemy by any means that I can lay hold of." + +The vidame went immediately, at Auguste's request, to the chief of the +private police of Paris, and without bringing Madame Jules' name or +person into the narrative, although they were really the gist of it, +he made the official aware of the fears of the family of Maulincour +about this mysterious person who was bold enough to swear the death of +an officer of the Guards, in defiance of the law and the police. The +chief pushed up his green spectacles in amazement, blew his nose +several times, and offered snuff to the vidame, who, to save his +dignity, pretended not to use tobacco, although his own nose was +discolored with it. Then the chief took notes and promised, Vidocq and +his spies aiding, to send in a report within a few days to the +Maulincour family, assuring them meantime that there were no secrets +for the police of Paris. + +A few days after this the police official called to see the vidame at +the Hotel de Maulincour, where he found the young baron quite +recovered from his last wound. He gave them in bureaucratic style his +thanks for the indications they had afforded him, and told them that +Bourignard was a convict, condemned to twenty years' hard labor, who +had miraculously escaped from a gang which was being transported from +Bicetre to Toulon. For thirteen years the police had been endeavoring +to recapture him, knowing that he had boldly returned to Paris; but so +far this convict had escaped the most active search, although he was +known to be mixed up in many nefarious deeds. However, the man, whose +life was full of very curious incidents, would certainly be captured +now in one or other of his several domiciles and delivered up to +justice. The bureaucrat ended his report by saying to Monsieur de +Maulincour that if he attached enough importance to the matter to wish +to witness the capture of Bourignard, he might come the next day at +eight in the morning to a house in the rue Sainte-Foi, of which he +gave him the number. Monsieur de Maulincour excused himself from going +personally in search of certainty,--trusting, with the sacred respect +inspired by the police of Paris, in the capability of the authorities. + +Three days later, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing in the +newspapers about the projected arrest, which was certainly of enough +importance to have furnished an article, Monsieur de Maulincour was +beginning to feel anxieties which were presently allayed by the +following letter:-- + + + Monsieur le Baron,--I have the honor to announce to you that you + need have no further uneasiness touching the affair in question. + The man named Gratien Bourignard, otherwise called Ferragus, died + yesterday, at his lodgings, rue Joquelet No. 7. The suspicions we + naturally conceived as to the identity of the dead body have been + completely set at rest by the facts. The physician of the + Prefecture of police was despatched by us to assist the physician + of the arrondissement, and the chief of the detective police made + all the necessary verifications to obtain absolute certainty. + Moreover, the character of the persons who signed the certificate + of death, and the affidavits of those who took care of the said + Bourignard in his last illness, among others that of the worthy + vicar of the church of the Bonne-Nouvelle (to whom he made his + last confession, for he died a Christian), do not permit us to + entertain any sort of doubt. + +Accept, Monsieur le baron, etc., etc. + + +Monsieur de Maulincour, the dowager, and the vidame breathed again +with joy unspeakable. The good old woman kissed her grandson leaving a +tear upon his cheek, and went away to thank God in prayer. The dear +soul, who was making a novena for Auguste's safety, believed her +prayers were answered. + +"Well," said the vidame, "now you had better show yourself at the ball +you were speaking of. I oppose no further objections." + + + + CHAPTER III + + THE WIFE ACCUSED + +Monsieur de Maulincour was all the more anxious to go to this ball +because he knew that Madame Jules would be present. The fete was given +by the Prefect of the Seine, in whose salons the two social worlds of +Paris met as on neutral ground. Auguste passed through the rooms +without finding the woman who now exercised so mighty an influence on +his fate. He entered an empty boudoir where card-tables were placed +awaiting players; and sitting down on a divan he gave himself up to +the most contradictory thoughts about her. A man presently took the +young officer by the arm, and looking up the baron was stupefied to +behold the pauper of the rue Coquilliere, the Ferragus of Ida, the +lodger in the rue Soly, the Bourignard of Justin, the convict of the +police, and the dead man of the day before. + +"Monsieur, not a sound, not a word," said Bourignard, whose voice he +recognized. The man was elegantly dressed; he wore the order of the +Golden-Fleece, and a medal on his coat. "Monsieur," he continued, and +his voice was sibilant like that of a hyena, "you increase my efforts +against you by having recourse to the police. You will perish, +monsieur; it has now become necessary. Do you love Madame Jules? Are +you beloved by her? By what right do you trouble her peaceful life, +and blacken her virtue?" + +Some one entered the card-room. Ferragus rose to go. + +"Do you know this man?" asked Monsieur de Maulincour of the new-comer, +seizing Ferragus by the collar. But Ferragus quickly disengaged +himself, took Monsieur de Maulincour by the hair, and shook his head +rapidly. + +"Must you have lead in it to make it steady?" he said. + +"I do not know him personally," replied Henri de Marsay, the spectator +of this scene, "but I know that he is Monsieur de Funcal, a rich +Portuguese." + +Monsieur de Funcal had disappeared. The baron followed but without +being able to overtake him until he reached the peristyle, where he +saw Ferragus, who looked at him with a jeering laugh from a brilliant +equipage which was driven away at high speed. + +"Monsieur," said Auguste, re-entering the salon and addressing de +Marsay, whom he knew, "I entreat you to tell me where Monsieur de +Funcal lives." + +"I do not know; but some one here can no doubt tell you." + +The baron, having questioned the prefect, ascertained that the Comte +de Funcal lived at the Portuguese embassy. At this moment, while he +still felt the icy fingers of that strange man in his hair, he saw +Madame Jules in all her dazzling beauty, fresh, gracious, artless, +resplendent with the sanctity of womanhood which had won his love. +This creature, now infernal to him, excited no emotion in his soul but +that of hatred; and this hatred shone in a savage, terrible look from +his eyes. He watched for a moment when he could speak to her unheard, +and then he said:-- + +"Madame, your _bravi_ have missed me three times." + +"What do you mean, monsieur?" she said, flushing. "I know that you +have had several unfortunate accidents lately, which I have greatly +regretted; but how could I have had anything to do with them?" + +"You knew that _bravi_ were employed against me by that man of the rue +Soly?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Madame, I now call you to account, not for my happiness only, but for +my blood--" + +At this instant Jules Desmarets approached them. + +"What are you saying to my wife, monsieur?" + +"Make that inquiry at my own house, monsieur, if you are curious," +said Maulincour, moving away, and leaving Madame Jules in an almost +fainting condition. + +There are few women who have not found themselves, once at least in +their lives, _a propos_ of some undeniable fact, confronted with a +direct, sharp, uncompromising question,--one of those questions +pitilessly asked by husbands, the mere apprehension of which gives a +chill, while the actual words enter the heart like the blade of a +dagger. It is from such crises that the maxim has come, "All women +lie." Falsehood, kindly falsehood, venial falsehood, sublime +falsehood, horrible falsehood,--but always the necessity to lie. This +necessity admitted, ought they not to know how to lie well? French +women do it admirably. Our manners and customs teach them deception! +Besides, women are so naively saucy, so pretty, graceful, and withal +so true in lying,--they recognize so fully the utility of doing so in +order to avoid in social life the violent shocks which happiness might +not resist,--that lying is seen to be as necessary to their lives as +the cotton-wool in which they put away their jewels. Falsehood becomes +to them the foundation of speech; truth is exceptional; they tell it, +if they are virtuous, by caprice or by calculation. According to +individual character, some women laugh when they lie; others weep; +others are grave; some grow angry. After beginning life by feigning +indifference to the homage that deeply flatters them, they often end +by lying to themselves. Who has not admired their apparent superiority +to everything at the very moment when they are trembling for the +secret treasures of their love? Who has never studied their ease, +their readiness, their freedom of mind in the greatest embarrassments +of life? In them, nothing is put on. Deception comes as the snow from +heaven. And then, with what art they discover the truth in others! +With what shrewdness they employ a direct logic in answer to some +passionate question which has revealed to them the secret of the heart +of a man who was guileless enough to proceed by questioning! To +question a woman! why, that is delivering one's self up to her; does +she not learn in that way all that we seek to hide from her? Does she +not know also how to be dumb, through speaking? What men are daring +enough to struggle with the Parisian woman?--a woman who knows how to +hold herself above all dagger thrusts, saying: "You are very +inquisitive; what is it to you? Why do you wish to know? Ah! you are +jealous! And suppose I do not choose to answer you?"--in short, a +woman who possesses the hundred and thirty-seven methods of saying +_No_, and incommensurable variations of the word _Yes_. Is not a +treatise on the words _yes_ and _no_, a fine diplomatic, philosophic, +logographic, and moral work, still waiting to be written? But to +accomplish this work, which we may also call diabolic, isn't an +androgynous genius necessary? For that reason, probably, it will never +be attempted. And besides, of all unpublished works isn't it the best +known and the best practised among women? Have you studied the +behavior, the pose, the _disinvoltura_ of a falsehood? Examine it. + +Madame Desmarets was seated in the right-hand corner of her carriage, +her husband in the left. Having forced herself to recover from her +emotion in the ballroom, she now affected a calm demeanor. Her husband +had then said nothing to her, and he still said nothing. Jules looked +out of the carriage window at the black walls of the silent houses +before which they passed; but suddenly, as if driven by a determining +thought, when turning the corner of a street he examined his wife, who +appeared to be cold in spite of the fur-lined pelisse in which she was +wrapped. He thought she seemed pensive, and perhaps she really was so. +Of all communicable things, reflection and gravity are the most +contagious. + +"What could Monsieur de Maulincour have said to affect you so keenly?" +said Jules; "and why does he wish me to go to his house and find out?" + +"He can tell you nothing in his house that I cannot tell you here," +she replied. + +Then, with that feminine craft which always slightly degrades virtue, +Madame Jules waited for another question. Her husband turned his face +back to the houses, and continued his study of their walls. Another +question would imply suspicion, distrust. To suspect a woman is a +crime in love. Jules had already killed a man for doubting his wife. +Clemence did not know all there was of true passion, of loyal +reflection, in her husband's silence; just as Jules was ignorant of +the generous drama that was wringing the heart of his Clemence. + +The carriage rolled on through a silent Paris, bearing the couple, +--two lovers who adored each other, and who, gently leaning on the +same silken cushion, were being parted by an abyss. In these elegant +coupes returning from a ball between midnight and two in the morning, +how many curious and singular scenes must pass,--meaning those coupes +with lanterns, which light both the street and the carriage, those +with their windows unshaded; in short, legitimate coupes, in which +couples can quarrel without caring for the eyes of pedestrians, +because the civil code gives a right to provoke, or beat, or kiss, a +wife in a carriage or elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere! How many +secrets must be revealed in this way to nocturnal pedestrians,--to +those young fellows who have gone to a ball in a carriage, but are +obliged, for whatever cause it may be, to return on foot. It was the +first time that Jules and Clemence had been together thus,--each in a +corner; usually the husband pressed close to his wife. + +"It is very cold," remarked Madame Jules. + +But her husband did not hear her; he was studying the signs above the +shop windows. + +"Clemence," he said at last, "forgive me the question I am about to +ask you." + +He came closer, took her by the waist, and drew her to him. + +"My God, it is coming!" thought the poor woman. "Well," she said +aloud, anticipating the question, "you want to know what Monsieur de +Maulincour said to me. I will tell you, Jules; but not without fear. +Good God! how is it possible that you and I should have secrets from +one another? For the last few moments I have seen you struggling +between a conviction of our love and vague fears. But that conviction +is clear within us, is it not? And these doubts and fears, do they not +seem to you dark and unnatural? Why not stay in that clear light of +love you cannot doubt? When I have told you all, you will still desire +to know more; and yet I myself do not know what the extraordinary +words of that man meant. What I fear is that this may lead to some +fatal affair between you. I would rather that we both forget this +unpleasant moment. But, in any case, swear to me that you will let +this singular adventure explain itself naturally. Here are the facts. +Monsieur de Maulincour declared to me that the three accidents you +have heard mentioned--the falling of a stone on his servant, the +breaking down of his cabriolet, and his duel about Madame de Serizy +--were the result of some plot I had laid against him. He also +threatened to reveal to you the cause of my desire to destroy him. Can +you imagine what all this means? My emotion came from the sight of his +face convulsed with madness, his haggard eyes, and also his words, +broken by some violent inward emotion. I thought him mad. That is all +that took place. Now, I should be less than a woman if I had not +perceived that for over a year I have become, as they call it, the +passion of Monsieur de Maulincour. He has never seen me except at a +ball; and our intercourse has been most insignificant,--merely that +which every one shares at a ball. Perhaps he wants to disunite us, so +that he may find me at some future time alone and unprotected. There, +see! already you are frowning! Oh, how cordially I hate society! We +were so happy without him; why take any notice of him? Jules, I +entreat you, forget all this! To-morrow we shall, no doubt, hear that +Monsieur de Maulincour has gone mad." + +"What a singular affair!" thought Jules, as the carriage stopped under +the peristyle of their house. He gave his arm to his wife and together +they went up to their apartments. + +To develop this history in all its truth of detail, and to follow its +course through many windings, it is necessary here to divulge some of +love's secrets, to glide beneath the ceilings of a marriage chamber, +not shamelessly, but like Trilby, frightening neither Dougal nor +Jeannie, alarming no one,--being as chaste as our noble French +language requires, and as bold as the pencil of Gerard in his picture +of Daphnis and Chloe. + +The bedroom of Madame Jules was a sacred plot. Herself, her husband, +and her maid alone entered it. Opulence has glorious privileges, and +the most enviable are those which enable the development of sentiments +to their fullest extent,--fertilizing them by the accomplishment of +even their caprices, and surrounding them with a brilliancy that +enlarges them, with refinements that purify them, with a thousand +delicacies that make them still more alluring. If you hate dinners on +the grass, and meals ill-served, if you feel a pleasure in seeing a +damask cloth that is dazzlingly white, a silver-gilt dinner service, +and porcelain of exquisite purity, lighted by transparent candles, +where miracles of cookery are served under silver covers bearing coats +of arms, you must, to be consistent, leave the garrets at the tops of +the houses, and the grisettes in the streets, abandon garrets, +grisettes, umbrellas, and overshoes to men who pay for their dinners +with tickets; and you must also comprehend Love to be a principle +which develops in all its grace only on Savonnerie carpets, beneath +the opal gleams of an alabaster lamp, between guarded walls silk-hung, +before gilded hearths in chambers deadened to all outward sounds by +shutters and billowy curtains. Mirrors must be there to show the play +of form and repeat the woman we would multiply as love itself +multiplies and magnifies her; next low divans, and a bed which, like a +secret, is divined, not shown. In this coquettish chamber are +fur-lined slippers for pretty feet, wax-candles under glass with +muslin draperies, by which to read at all hours of the night, and +flowers, not those oppressive to the head, and linen, the fineness of +which might have satisfied Anne of Austria. + +Madame Jules had realized this charming programme, but that was +nothing. All women of taste can do as much, though there is always in +the arrangement of these details a stamp of personality which gives to +this decoration or that detail a character that cannot be imitated. +To-day, more than ever, reigns the fanaticism of individuality. The +more our laws tend to an impossible equality, the more we shall get +away from it in our manners and customs. Thus, rich people are +beginning, in France, to become more exclusive in their tastes and +their belongings, than they have been for the last thirty years. +Madame Jules knew very well how to carry out this programme; and +everything about her was arranged in harmony with a luxury that suits +so well with love. Love in a cottage, or "Fifteen hundred francs and +my Sophy," is the dream of starvelings to whom black bread suffices in +their present state; but when love really comes, they grow fastidious +and end by craving the luxuries of gastronomy. Love holds toil and +poverty in horror. It would rather die than merely live on from hand +to mouth. + +Many women, returning from a ball, impatient for their beds, throw off +their gowns, their faded flowers, their bouquets, the fragrance of +which has now departed. They leave their little shoes beneath a chair, +the white strings trailing; they take out their combs and let their +hair roll down as it will. Little they care if their husbands see the +puffs, the hairpins, the artful props which supported the elegant +edifices of the hair, and the garlands or the jewels that adorned it. +No more mysteries! all is over for the husband; no more painting or +decoration for him. The corset--half the time it is a corset of a +reparative kind--lies where it is thrown, if the maid is too sleepy to +take it away with her. The whalebone bustle, the oiled-silk +protections round the sleeves, the pads, the hair bought from a +coiffeur, all the false woman is there, scattered about in open sight. +_Disjecta membra poetae_, the artificial poesy, so much admired by +those for whom it is conceived and elaborated, the fragments of a +pretty woman, litter every corner of the room. To the love of a +yawning husband, the actual presents herself, also yawning, in a +dishabille without elegance, and a tumbled night-cap, that of last +night and that of to-morrow night also,--"For really, monsieur, if you +want a pretty cap to rumple every night, increase my pin-money." + +There's life as it is! A woman makes herself old and unpleasing to her +husband; but dainty and elegant and adorned for others, for the rival +of all husbands,--for that world which calumniates and tears to shreds +her sex. + +Inspired by true love, for Love has, like other creations, its +instinct of preservation, Madame Jules did very differently; she found +in the constant blessing of her love the necessary impulse to fulfil +all those minute personal cares which ought never to be relaxed, +because they perpetuate love. Besides, such personal cares and duties +proceed from a personal dignity which becomes all women, and are among +the sweetest of flatteries, for is it not respecting in themselves the +man they love? + +So Madame Jules denied to her husband all access to her dressing-room, +where she left the accessories of her toilet, and whence she issued +mysteriously adorned for the mysterious fetes of her heart. Entering +their chamber, which was always graceful and elegant, Jules found a +woman coquettishly wrapped in a charming _peignoir_, her hair simply +wound in heavy coils around her head; a woman always more simple, more +beautiful there than she was before the world; a woman just refreshed +in water, whose only artifice consisted in being whiter than her +muslins, sweeter than all perfumes, more seductive than any siren, +always loving and therefore always loved. This admirable understanding +of a wife's business was the secret of Josephine's charm for Napoleon, +as in former times it was that of Caesonia for Caius Caligula, of +Diane de Poitiers for Henri II. If it was largely productive to women +of seven or eight lustres what a weapon is it in the hands of young +women! A husband gathers with delight the rewards of his fidelity. + +Returning home after the conversation which had chilled her with fear, +and still gave her the keenest anxiety, Madame Jules took particular +pains with her toilet for the night. She wanted to make herself, and +she did make herself enchanting. She belted the cambric of her +dressing-gown round her waist, defining the lines of her bust; she +allowed her hair to fall upon her beautifully modelled shoulders. A +perfumed bath had given her a delightful fragrance, and her little +bare feet were in velvet slippers. Strong in a sense of her advantages +she came in stepping softly, and put her hands over her husband's +eyes. She thought him pensive; he was standing in his dressing-gown +before the fire, his elbow on the mantel and one foot on the fender. +She said in his ear, warming it with her breath, and nibbling the tip +of it with her teeth:-- + +"What are you thinking about, monsieur?" + +Then she pressed him in her arms as if to tear him away from all evil +thoughts. The woman who loves has a full knowledge of her power; the +more virtuous she is, the more effectual her coquetry. + +"About you," he answered. + +"Only about me?" + +"Yes." + +"Ah! that's a very doubtful 'yes.'" + +They went to bed. As she fell asleep, Madame Jules said to herself:-- + +"Monsieur de Maulincour will certainly cause some evil. Jules' mind is +preoccupied, disturbed; he is nursing thoughts he does not tell me." + +It was three in the morning when Madame Jules was awakened by a +presentiment which struck her heart as she slept. She had a sense both +physical and moral of her husband's absence. She did not feel the arm +Jules passed beneath her head,--that arm in which she had slept, +peacefully and happy, for five years; an arm she had never wearied. A +voice said to her, "Jules suffers, Jules is weeping." She raised her +head, and then sat up; felt that her husband's place was cold, and saw +him sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, his head resting +against the back of an arm-chair. Tears were on his cheeks. The poor +woman threw herself hastily from her bed and sprang at a bound to her +husband's knees. + +"Jules! what is it? Are you ill? Speak, tell me! Speak to me, if you +love me!" and she poured out a hundred words expressing the deepest +tenderness. + +Jules knelt at her feet, kissed her hands and knees, and answered with +fresh tears:-- + +"Dear Clemence, I am most unhappy! It is not loving to distrust the +one we love. I adore you and suspect you. The words that man said to +me to-night have struck to my heart; they stay there in spite of +myself, and confound me. There is some mystery here. In short, and I +blush to say it, your explanations do not satisfy me. My reason casts +gleams into my soul which my love rejects. It is an awful combat. +Could I stay there, holding your head, and suspecting thoughts within +it to me unknown? Oh! I believe in you, I believe in you!" he cried, +seeing her smile sadly and open her mouth as if to speak. "Say +nothing; do not reproach me. Besides, could you say anything I have +not said myself for the last three hours? Yes, for three hours, I have +been here, watching you as you slept, so beautiful! admiring that +pure, peaceful brow. Yes, yes! you have always told me your thoughts, +have you not? I alone am in that soul. While I look at you, while my +eyes can plunge into yours I see all plainly. Your life is as pure as +your glance is clear. No, there is no secret behind those transparent +eyes." He rose and kissed their lids. "Let me avow to you, dearest +soul," he said, "that for the last five years each day has increased +my happiness, through the knowledge that you are all mine, and that no +natural affection even can take any of your love. Having no sister, no +father, no mother, no companion, I am neither above nor below any +living being in your heart; I am alone there. Clemence, repeat to me +those sweet things of the spirit you have so often said to me; do not +blame me; comfort me, I am so unhappy. I have an odious suspicion on +my conscience, and you have nothing in your heart to sear it. My +beloved, tell me, could I stay there beside you? Could two heads +united as ours have been lie on the same pillow when one was suffering +and the other tranquil? What are you thinking of?" he cried abruptly, +observing that Clemence was anxious, confused, and seemed unable to +restrain her tears. + +"I am thinking of my mother," she answered, in a grave voice. "You +will never know, Jules, what I suffer in remembering my mother's dying +farewell, said in a voice sweeter than all music, and in feeling the +solemn touch of her icy hand at a moment when you overwhelm me with +those assurances of your precious love." + +She raised her husband, strained him to her with a nervous force +greater than that of men, and kissed his hair, covering it with tears. + +"Ah! I would be hacked in pieces for you! Tell me that I make you +happy; that I am to you the most beautiful of women--a thousand women +to you. Oh! you are loved as no other man ever was or will be. I don't +know the meaning of those words 'duty,' 'virtue.' Jules, I love you +for yourself; I am happy in loving you; I shall love you more and more +to my dying day. I have pride in my love; I feel it is my destiny to +have one sole emotion in my life. What I shall tell you now is +dreadful, I know--but I am glad to have no child; I do not wish for +any. I feel I am more wife than mother. Well, then, can you fear? +Listen to me, my own beloved, promise to forget, not this hour of +mingled tenderness and doubt, but the words of that madman. Jules, you +_must_. Promise me not to see him, not to go to him. I have a deep +conviction that if you set one foot in that maze we shall both roll +down a precipice where I shall perish--but with your name upon my +lips, your heart in my heart. Why hold me so high in that heart and +yet so low in reality? What! you who give credit to so many as to +money, can you not give me the charity of faith? And on the first +occasion in our lives when you might prove to me your boundless trust, +do you cast me from my throne in your heart? Between a madman and me, +it is the madman whom you choose to believe? oh, Jules!" She stopped, +threw back the hair that fell about her brow and neck, and then, in a +heart-rending tone, she added: "I have said too much; one word should +suffice. If your soul and your forehead still keep this cloud, however +light it be, I tell you now that I shall die of it." + +She could not repress a shudder, and turned pale. + +"Oh! I will kill that man," thought Jules, as he lifted his wife in +his arms and carried her to her bed. + +"Let us sleep in peace, my angel," he said. "I have forgotten all, I +swear it!" + +Clemence fell asleep to the music of those sweet words, softly +repeated. Jules, as he watched her sleeping, said in his heart:-- + +"She is right; when love is so pure, suspicion blights it. To that +young soul, that tender flower, a blight--yes, a blight means death." + +When a cloud comes between two beings filled with affection for each +other and whose lives are in absolute unison, that cloud, though it +may disperse, leaves in those souls a trace of its passage. Either +love gains a stronger life, as the earth after rain, or the shock +still echoes like distant thunder through a cloudless sky. It is +impossible to recover absolutely the former life; love will either +increase or diminish. + +At breakfast, Monsieur and Madame Jules showed to each other those +particular attentions in which there is always something of +affectation. There were glances of forced gaiety, which seemed the +efforts of persons endeavoring to deceive themselves. Jules had +involuntary doubts, his wife had positive fears. Still, sure of each +other, they had slept. Was this strained condition the effect of a +want of faith, or was it only a memory of their nocturnal scene? They +did not know themselves. But they loved each other so purely that the +impression of that scene, both cruel and beneficent, could not fail to +leave its traces in their souls; both were eager to make those traces +disappear, each striving to be the first to return to the other, and +thus they could not fail to think of the cause of their first +variance. To loving souls, this is not grief; pain is still far-off; +but it is a sort of mourning, which is difficult to depict. If there +are, indeed, relations between colors and the emotions of the soul, +if, as Locke's blind man said, scarlet produces on the sight the +effect produced upon the hearing by a blast of trumpets, it is +permissible to compare this reaction of melancholy to mourning tones +of gray. + +But even so, love saddened, love in which remains a true sentiment of +its happiness, momentarily troubled though it be, gives enjoyments +derived from pain and pleasure both, which are all novel. Jules +studied his wife's voice; he watched her glances with the freshness of +feeling that inspired him in the earliest days of his passion for her. +The memory of five absolutely happy years, her beauty, the candor of +her love, quickly effaced in her husband's mind the last vestiges of +an intolerable pain. + +The day was Sunday,--a day on which there was no Bourse and no +business to be done. The reunited pair passed the whole day together, +getting farther into each other's hearts than they ever yet had done, +like two children who in a moment of fear, hold each other closely and +cling together, united by an instinct. There are in this life of +two-in-one completely happy days, the gift of chance, ephemeral +flowers, born neither of yesterday nor belonging to the morrow. Jules +and Clemence now enjoyed this day as though they forboded it to be the +last of their loving life. What name shall we give to that mysterious +power which hastens the steps of travellers before the storm is +visible; which makes the life and beauty of the dying so resplendent, +and fills the parting soul with joyous projects for days before death +comes; which tells the midnight student to fill his lamp when it +shines brightest; and makes the mother fear the thoughtful look cast +upon her infant by an observing man? We all are affected by this +influence in the great catastrophes of life; but it has never yet been +named or studied; it is something more than presentiment, but not as +yet clear vision. + +All went well till the following day. On Monday, Jules Desmarets, +obliged to go to the Bourse on his usual business, asked his wife, as +usual, if she would take advantage of his carriage and let him drive +her anywhere. + +"No," she said, "the day is too unpleasant to go out." + +It was raining in torrents. At half-past two o'clock Monsieur +Desmarets reached the Treasury. At four o'clock, as he left the +Bourse, he came face to face with Monsieur de Maulincour, who was +waiting for him with the nervous pertinacity of hatred and vengeance. + +"Monsieur," he said, taking Monsieur Desmarets by the arm, "I have +important information to give you. Listen to me. I am too loyal a man +to have recourse to anonymous letters with which to trouble your peace +of mind; I prefer to speak to you in person. Believe me, if my very +life were not concerned, I should not meddle with the private affairs +of any household, even if I thought I had the right to do so." + +"If what you have to say to me concerns Madame Desmarets," replied +Jules, "I request you to be silent, monsieur." + +"If I am silent, monsieur, you may before long see Madame Jules on the +prisoner's bench at the court of assizes beside a convict. Now, do you +wish me to be silent?" + +Jules turned pale; but his noble face instantly resumed its calmness, +though it was now a false calmness. Drawing the baron under one of the +temporary sheds of the Bourse, near which they were standing, he said +to him in a voice which concealed his intense inward emotion:-- + +"Monsieur, I will listen to you; but there will be a duel to the death +between us if--" + +"Oh, to that I consent!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour. "I have the +greatest esteem for your character. You speak of death. You are +unaware that your wife may have assisted in poisoning me last Saturday +night. Yes, monsieur, since then some extraordinary evil has developed +in me. My hair appears to distil an inward fever and a deadly languor +through my skull; I know who clutched my hair at that ball." + +Monsieur de Maulincour then related, without omitting a single fact, +his platonic love for Madame Jules, and the details of the affair in +the rue Soly which began this narrative. Any one would have listened +to him with attention; but Madame Jules' husband had good reason to be +more amazed than any other human being. Here his character displayed +itself; he was more amazed than overcome. Made a judge, and the judge +of an adored woman, he found in his soul the equity of a judge as well +as the inflexibility. A lover still, he thought less of his own +shattered life than of his wife's life; he listened, not to his own +anguish, but to some far-off voice that cried to him, "Clemence cannot +lie! Why should she betray you?" + +"Monsieur," said the baron, as he ended, "being absolutely certain of +having recognized in Monsieur de Funcal the same Ferragus whom the +police declared dead, I have put upon his traces an intelligent man. +As I returned that night I remembered, by a fortunate chance, the name +of Madame Meynardie, mentioned in that letter of Ida, the presumed +mistress of my persecutor. Supplied with this clue, my emissary will +soon get to the bottom of this horrible affair; for he is far more +able to discover the truth than the police themselves." + +"Monsieur," replied Desmarets, "I know not how to thank you for this +confidence. You say that you can obtain proofs and witnesses; I shall +await them. I shall seek the truth of this strange affair +courageously; but you must permit me to doubt everything until the +evidence of the facts you state is proved to me. In any case you shall +have satisfaction, for, as you will certainly understand, we both +require it." + +Jules returned home. + +"What is the matter, Jules?" asked his wife, when she saw him. "You +look so pale you frighten me!" + +"The day is cold," he answered, walking with slow steps across the +room where all things spoke to him of love and happiness,--that room +so calm and peaceful where a deadly storm was gathering. + +"Did you go out to-day?" he asked, as though mechanically. + +He was impelled to ask the question by the last of a myriad of +thoughts which had gathered themselves together into a lucid +meditation, though jealousy was actively prompting them. + +"No," she answered, in a tone that was falsely candid. + +At that instant Jules saw through the open door of the dressing-room +the velvet bonnet which his wife wore in the mornings; on it were +drops of rain. Jules was a passionate man, but he was also full of +delicacy. It was repugnant to him to bring his wife face to face with +a lie. When such a situation occurs, all has come to an end forever +between certain beings. And yet those drops of rain were like a flash +tearing through his brain. + +He left the room, went down to the porter's lodge, and said to the +porter, after making sure that they were alone:-- + +"Fouguereau, a hundred crowns if you tell me the truth; dismissal if +you deceive me; and nothing at all if you ever speak of my question +and your answer." + +He stopped to examine the man's face, leading him under the window. +Then he continued:-- + +"Did madame go out this morning?" + +"Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in +about half an hour ago." + +"That is true, upon your honor?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"You will have the money; but if you speak of this, remember, you will +lose all." + +Jules returned to his wife. + +"Clemence," he said, "I find I must put my accounts in order. Do not +be offended at the inquiry I am going to make. Have I not given you +forty thousand francs since the beginning of the year?" + +"More," she said,--"forty-seven." + +"Have you spent them?" + +"Nearly," she replied. "In the first place, I had to pay several of +our last year's bills--" + +"I shall never find out anything in this way," thought Jules. "I am +not taking the best course." + +At this moment Jules' own valet entered the room with a letter for his +master, who opened it indifferently, but as soon as his eyes had +lighted on the signature he read it eagerly. The letter was as +follows:-- + + + Monsieur,--For the sake of your peace of mind as well as ours, I + take the course of writing you this letter without possessing the + advantage of being known to you; but my position, my age, and the + fear of some misfortune compel me to entreat you to show + indulgence in the trying circumstances under which our afflicted + family is placed. Monsieur Auguste de Maulincour has for the last + few days shown signs of mental derangement, and we fear that he + may trouble your happiness by fancies which he confided to + Monsieur le Vidame de Pamiers and myself during his first attack + of frenzy. We think it right, therefore, to warn you of his + malady, which is, we hope, curable; but it will have such serious + and important effects on the honor of our family and the career of + my grandson that we must rely, monsieur, on your entire + discretion. + + If Monsieur le Vidame or I could have gone to see you we would not + have written. But I make no doubt that you will regard this prayer + of a mother, who begs you to destroy this letter. + + Accept the assurance of my perfect consideration. + +Baronne de Maulincour, _nee_ de Rieux. + + +"Oh! what torture!" cried Jules. + +"What is it? what is in your mind?" asked his wife, exhibiting the +deepest anxiety. + +"I have come," he answered, slowly, as he threw her the letter, "to +ask myself whether it can be you who have sent me that to avert my +suspicions. Judge, therefore, what I suffer." + +"Unhappy man!" said Madame Jules, letting fall the paper. "I pity him; +though he has done me great harm." + +"Are you aware that he has spoken to me?" + +"Oh! have you been to see him, in spite of your promise?" she cried in +terror. + +"Clemence, our love is in danger of perishing; we stand outside of the +ordinary rules of life; let us lay aside all petty considerations in +presence of this great peril. Explain to me why you went out this +morning. Women think they have the right to tell us little falsehoods. +Sometimes they like to hide a pleasure they are preparing for us. Just +now you said a word to me, by mistake, no doubt, a no for a yes." + +He went into the dressing-room and brought out the bonnet. + +"See," he said, "your bonnet has betrayed you; these spots are +raindrops. You must, therefore, have gone out in a street cab, and +these drops fell upon it as you went to find one, or as you entered or +left the house where you went. But a woman can leave her own home for +many innocent purposes, even after she has told her husband that she +did not mean to go out. There are so many reasons for changing our +plans! Caprices, whims, are they not your right? Women are not +required to be consistent with themselves. You had forgotten +something,--a service to render, a visit, some kind action. But +nothing hinders a woman from telling her husband what she does. Can we +ever blush on the breast of a friend? It is not a jealous husband who +speaks to you, my Clemence; it is your lover, your friend, your +brother." He flung himself passionately at her feet. "Speak, not to +justify yourself, but to calm my horrible sufferings. I know that you +went out. Well--what did you do? where did you go?" + +"Yes, I went out, Jules," she answered in a strained voice, though her +face was calm. "But ask me nothing more. Wait; have confidence; +without which you will lay up for yourself terrible remorse. Jules, my +Jules, trust is the virtue of love. I owe to you that I am at this +moment too troubled to answer you: but I am not a false woman; I love +you, and you know it." + +"In the midst of all that can shake the faith of man and rouse his +jealousy, for I see I am not first in your heart, I am no longer thine +own self--well, Clemence, even so, I prefer to believe you, to believe +that voice, to believe those eyes. If you deceive me, you deserve--" + +"Ten thousand deaths!" she cried, interrupting him. + +"I have never hidden a thought from you, but you--" + +"Hush!" she said, "our happiness depends upon our mutual silence." + +"Ha! I _will_ know all!" he exclaimed, with sudden violence. + +At that moment the cries of a woman were heard,--the yelping of a +shrill little voice came from the antechamber. + +"I tell you I will go in!" it cried. "Yes, I shall go in; I will see +her! I shall see her!" + +Jules and Clemence both ran to the salon as the door from the +antechamber was violently burst open. A young woman entered hastily, +followed by two servants, who said to their master:-- + +"Monsieur, this person would come in in spite of us. We told her that +madame was not at home. She answered that she knew very well madame +had been out, but she saw her come in. She threatened to stay at the +door of the house till she could speak to madame." + +"You can go," said Monsieur Desmarets to the two men. "What do you +want, mademoiselle?" he added, turning to the strange woman. + +This "demoiselle" was the type of a woman who is never to be met with +except in Paris. She is made in Paris, like the mud, like the +pavement, like the water of the Seine, such as it becomes in Paris +before human industry filters it ten times ere it enters the cut-glass +decanters and sparkles pure and bright from the filth it has been. She +is therefore a being who is truly original. Depicted scores of times +by the painter's brush, the pencil of the caricaturist, the charcoal +of the etcher, she still escapes analysis, because she cannot be +caught and rendered in all her moods, like Nature, like this fantastic +Paris itself. She holds to vice by one thread only, and she breaks +away from it at a thousand other points of the social circumference. +Besides, she lets only one trait of her character be known, and that +the only one which renders her blamable; her noble virtues are hidden; +she prefers to glory in her naive libertinism. Most incompletely +rendered in dramas and tales where she is put upon the scene with all +her poesy, she is nowhere really true but in her garret; elsewhere she +is invariably calumniated or over-praised. Rich, she deteriorates; +poor, she is misunderstood. She has too many vices, and too many good +qualities; she is too near to pathetic asphyxiation or to a dissolute +laugh; too beautiful and too hideous. She personifies Paris, to which, +in the long run, she supplies the toothless portresses, washerwomen, +street-sweepers, beggars, occasionally insolent countesses, admired +actresses, applauded singers; she has even given, in the olden time, +two quasi-queens to the monarchy. Who can grasp such a Proteus? She is +all woman, less than woman, more than woman. From this vast portrait +the painter of manners and morals can take but a feature here and +there; the _ensemble_ is infinite. + +She was a grisette of Paris; a grisette in all her glory; a grisette +in a hackney-coach,--happy, young, handsome, fresh, but a grisette; a +grisette with claws, scissors, impudent as a Spanish woman, snarling +as a prudish English woman proclaiming her conjugal rights, coquettish +as a great lady, though more frank, and ready for everything; a +perfect _lionne_ in her way; issuing from the little apartment of +which she had dreamed so often, with its red-calico curtains, its +Utrecht velvet furniture, its tea-table, the cabinet of china with +painted designs, the sofa, the little moquette carpet, the alabaster +clock and candlesticks (under glass cases), the yellow bedroom, the +eider-down quilt,--in short, all the domestic joys of a grisette's +life; and in addition, the woman-of-all-work (a former grisette +herself, now the owner of a moustache), theatre-parties, unlimited +bonbons, silk dresses, bonnets to spoil,--in fact, all the felicities +coveted by the grisette heart except a carriage, which only enters her +imagination as a marshal's baton into the dreams of a soldier. Yes, +this grisette had all these things in return for a true affection, or +in spite of a true affection, as some others obtain it for an hour a +day,--a sort of tax carelessly paid under the claws of an old man. + +The young woman who now entered the presence of Monsieur and Madame +Jules had a pair of feet so little covered by her shoes that only a +slim black line was visible between the carpet and her white +stockings. This peculiar foot-gear, which Parisian caricaturists have +well-rendered, is a special attribute of the grisette of Paris; but +she is even more distinctive to the eyes of an observer by the care +with which her garments are made to adhere to her form, which they +clearly define. On this occasion she was trigly dressed in a green +gown, with a white chemisette, which allowed the beauty of her bust to +be seen; her shawl, of Ternaux cashmere, had fallen from her +shoulders, and was held by its two corners, which were twisted round +her wrists. She had a delicate face, rosy cheeks, a white skin, +sparkling gray eyes, a round, very promising forehead, hair carefully +smoothed beneath her little bonnet, and heavy curls upon her neck. + +"My name is Ida," she said, "and if that's Madame Jules to whom I have +the advantage of speaking, I've come to tell her all I have in my +heart against her. It is very wrong, when a woman is set up and in her +furniture, as you are here, to come and take from a poor girl a man +with whom I'm as good as married, morally, and who did talk of making +it right by marrying me before the municipality. There's plenty of +handsome young men in the world--ain't there, monsieur?--to take your +fancy, without going after a man of middle age, who makes my +happiness. Yah! I haven't got a fine hotel like this, but I've got my +love, I have. I hate handsome men and money; I'm all heart, and--" + +Madame Jules turned to her husband. + +"You will allow me, monsieur, to hear no more of all this," she said, +retreating to her bedroom. + +"If the lady lives with you, I've made a mess of it; but I can't help +that," resumed Ida. "Why does she come after Monsieur Ferragus every +day?" + +"You are mistaken, mademoiselle," said Jules, stupefied; "my wife is +incapable--" + +"Ha! so you're married, you two," said the grisette showing some +surprise. "Then it's very wrong, monsieur,--isn't it?--for a woman who +has the happiness of being married in legal marriage to have relations +with a man like Henri--" + +"Henri! who is Henri?" said Jules, taking Ida by the arm and pulling +her into an adjoining room that his wife might hear no more. + +"Why, Monsieur Ferragus." + +"But he is dead," said Jules. + +"Nonsense; I went to Franconi's with him last night, and he brought me +home--as he ought. Besides, your wife can tell you about him; didn't +she go there this very afternoon at three o'clock? I know she did, for +I waited in the street, and saw her,--all because that good-natured +fellow, Monsieur Justin, whom you know perhaps,--a little old man with +jewelry who wears corsets,--told me that Madame Jules was my rival. +That name, monsieur, sounds mighty like a feigned one; but if it is +yours, excuse me. But this I say, if Madame Jules was a court duchess, +Henri is rich enough to satisfy all her fancies, and it is my business +to protect my property; I've a right to, for I love him, that I do. He +is my _first_ inclination; my happiness and all my future fate depends +on it. I fear nothing, monsieur; I am honest; I never lied, or stole +the property of any living soul, no matter who. If an empress was my +rival, I'd go straight to her, empress as she was; because all pretty +women are equals, monsieur--" + +"Enough! enough!" said Jules. "Where do you live?" + +"Rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14, monsieur,--Ida Gruget, +corset-maker, at your service,--for we make lots of corsets for men." + +"Where does the man whom you call Ferragus live?" + +"Monsieur," she said, pursing up her lips, "in the first place, he's +not a man; he is a rich monsieur, much richer, perhaps, than you are. +But why do you ask me his address when your wife knows it? He told me +not to give it. Am I obliged to answer you? I'm not, thank God, in a +confessional or a police-court; I'm responsible only to myself." + +"If I were to offer you ten thousand francs to tell me where Monsieur +Ferragus lives, how then?" + +"Ha! n, o, _no_, my little friend, and that ends the matter," she +said, emphasizing this singular reply with a popular gesture. "There's +no sum in the world could make me tell you. I have the honor to bid +you good-day. How do I get out of here?" + +Jules, horror-struck, allowed her to go without further notice. The +whole world seemed to crumble beneath his feet, and above him the +heavens were falling with a crash. + +"Monsieur is served," said his valet. + +The valet and the footman waited in the dining-room a quarter of an +hour without seeing master or mistress. + +"Madame will not dine to-day," said the waiting-maid, coming in. + +"What's the matter, Josephine?" asked the valet. + +"I don't know," she answered. "Madame is crying, and is going to bed. +Monsieur has no doubt got some love-affair on hand, and it has been +discovered at a very bad time. I wouldn't answer for madame's life. +Men are so clumsy; they'll make you scenes without any precaution." + +"That's not so," said the valet, in a low voice. "On the contrary, +madame is the one who--you understand? What times does monsieur have +to go after pleasures, he, who hasn't slept out of madame's room for +five years, who goes to his study at ten and never leaves it till +breakfast, at twelve. His life is all known, it is regular; whereas +madame goes out nearly every day at three o'clock, Heaven knows +where." + +"And monsieur too," said the maid, taking her mistress's part. + +"Yes, but he goes straight to the Bourse. I told him three times that +dinner was ready," continued the valet, after a pause. "You might as +well talk to a post." + +Monsieur Jules entered the dining-room. + +"Where is madame?" he said. + +"Madame is going to bed; her head aches," replied the maid, assuming +an air of importance. + +Monsieur Jules then said to the footmen composedly: "You can take +away; I shall go and sit with madame." + +He went to his wife's room and found her weeping, but endeavoring to +smother her sobs with her handkerchief. + +"Why do you weep?" said Jules; "you need expect no violence and no +reproaches from me. Why should I avenge myself? If you have not been +faithful to my love, it is that you were never worthy of it." + +"Not worthy?" The words were repeated amid her sobs and the accent in +which they were said would have moved any other man than Jules. + +"To kill you, I must love more than perhaps I do love you," he +continued. "But I should never have the courage; I would rather kill +myself, leaving you to your--happiness, and with--whom!--" + +He did not end his sentence. + +"Kill yourself!" she cried, flinging herself at his feet and clasping +them. + +But he, wishing to escape the embrace, tried to shake her off, +dragging her in so doing toward the bed. + +"Let me alone," he said. + +"No, no, Jules!" she cried. "If you love me no longer I shall die. Do +you wish to know all?" + +"Yes." + +He took her, grasped her violently, and sat down on the edge of the +bed, holding her between his legs. Then, looking at that beautiful +face now red as fire and furrowed with tears,-- + +"Speak," he said. + +Her sobs began again. + +"No; it is a secret of life and death. If I tell it, I--No, I cannot. +Have mercy, Jules!" + +"You have betrayed me--" + +"Ah! Jules, you think so now, but soon you will know all." + +"But this Ferragus, this convict whom you go to see, a man enriched by +crime, if he does not belong to you, if you do not belong to him--" + +"Oh, Jules!" + +"Speak! Is he your mysterious benefactor?--the man to whom we owe our +fortune, as persons have said already?" + +"Who said that?" + +"A man whom I killed in a duel." + +"Oh, God! one death already!" + +"If he is not your protector, if he does not give you money, if it is +you, on the contrary, who carry money to him, tell me, is he your +brother?" + +"What if he were?" she said. + +Monsieur Desmarets crossed his arms. + +"Why should that have been concealed from me?" he said. "Then you and +your mother have both deceived me? Besides, does a woman go to see her +brother every day, or nearly every day?" + +His wife had fainted at his feet. + +"Dead," he said. "And suppose I am mistaken?" + +He sprang to the bell-rope; called Josephine, and lifted Clemence to +the bed. + +"I shall die of this," said Madame Jules, recovering consciousness. + +"Josephine," cried Monsieur Desmarets. "Send for Monsieur Desplein; +send also to my brother and ask him to come here immediately." + +"Why your brother?" asked Clemence. + +But Jules had already left the room. + + + + CHAPTER IV + + WHERE GO TO DIE? + +For the first time in five years Madame Jules slept alone in her bed, +and was compelled to admit a physician into that sacred chamber. These +in themselves were two keen pangs. Desplein found Madame Jules very +ill. Never was a violent emotion more untimely. He would say nothing +definite, and postponed till the morrow giving any opinion, after +leaving a few directions, which were not executed, the emotions of the +heart causing all bodily cares to be forgotten. + +When morning dawned, Clemence had not yet slept. Her mind was absorbed +in the low murmur of a conversation which lasted several hours between +the brothers; but the thickness of the walls allowed no word which +could betray the object of this long conference to reach her ears. +Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, went away at last. The stillness of +the night, and the singular activity of the senses given by powerful +emotion, enabled Clemence to distinguish the scratching of a pen and +the involuntary movements of a person engaged in writing. Those who +are habitually up at night, and who observe the different acoustic +effects produced in absolute silence, know that a slight echo can be +readily perceived in the very places where louder but more equable and +continued murmurs are not distinct. At four o'clock the sound ceased. +Clemence rose, anxious and trembling. Then, with bare feet and without +a wrapper, forgetting her illness and her moist condition, the poor +woman opened the door softly without noise and looked into the next +room. She saw her husband sitting, with a pen in his hand, asleep in +his arm-chair. The candles had burned to the sockets. She slowly +advanced and read on an envelope, already sealed, the words, "This is +my will." + +She knelt down as if before an open grave and kissed her husband's +hand. He woke instantly. + +"Jules, my friend, they grant some days to criminals condemned to +death," she said, looking at him with eyes that blazed with fever and +with love. "Your innocent wife asks only two. Leave me free for two +days, and--wait! After that, I shall die happy--at least, you will +regret me." + +"Clemence, I grant them." + +Then, as she kissed her husband's hands in the tender transport of her +heart, Jules, under the spell of that cry of innocence, took her in +his arms and kissed her forehead, though ashamed to feel himself still +under subjection to the power of that noble beauty. + +On the morrow, after taking a few hours' rest, Jules entered his +wife's room, obeying mechanically his invariable custom of not leaving +the house without a word to her. Clemence was sleeping. A ray of light +passing through a chink in the upper blind of a window fell across the +face of the dejected woman. Already suffering had impaired her +forehead and the freshness of her lips. A lover's eye could not fail +to notice the appearance of dark blotches, and a sickly pallor in +place of the uniform tone of the cheeks and the pure ivory whiteness +of the skin,--two points at which the sentiments of her noble soul +were artlessly wont to show themselves. + +"She suffers," thought Jules. "Poor Clemence! May God protect us!" + +He kissed her very softly on the forehead. She woke, saw her husband, +and remembered all. Unable to speak, she took his hand, her eyes +filling with tears. + +"I am innocent," she said, ending her dream. + +"You will not go out to-day, will you?" asked Jules. + +"No, I feel too weak to leave my bed." + +"If you should change your mind, wait till I return," said Jules. + +Then he went down to the porter's lodge. + +"Fouguereau, you will watch the door yourself to-day. I wish to know +exactly who comes to the house, and who leaves it." + +Then he threw himself into a hackney-coach, and was driven to the +hotel de Maulincour, where he asked for the baron. + +"Monsieur is ill," they told him. + +Jules insisted on entering, and gave his name. If he could not see the +baron, he wished to see the vidame or the dowager. He waited some time +in the salon, where Madame de Maulincour finally came to him and told +him that her grandson was much too ill to receive him. + +"I know, madame, the nature of his illness from the letter you did me +the honor to write, and I beg you to believe--" + +"A letter to you, monsieur, written by me!" cried the dowager, +interrupting him. "I have written you no letter. What was I made to +say in that letter, monsieur?" + +"Madame," replied Jules, "intending to see Monsieur de Maulincour +to-day, I thought it best to preserve the letter in spite of its +injunction to destroy it. There it is." + +Madame de Maulincour put on her spectacles, and the moment she cast +her eyes on the paper she showed the utmost surprise. + +"Monsieur," she said, "my writing is so perfectly imitated that, if +the matter were not so recent, I might be deceived myself. My grandson +is ill, it is true; but his reason has never for a moment been +affected. We are the puppets of some evil-minded person or persons; +and yet I cannot imagine the object of a trick like this. You shall +see my grandson, monsieur, and you will at once perceive that he is +perfectly sound in mind." + +She rang the bell, and sent to ask if the baron felt able to receive +Monsieur Desmarets. The servant returned with an affirmative answer. +Jules went to the baron's room, where he found him in an arm-chair +near the fire. Too feeble to move, the unfortunate man merely bowed +his head with a melancholy gesture. The Vidame de Pamiers was sitting +with him. + +"Monsieur le baron," said Jules, "I have something to say which makes +it desirable that I should see you alone." + +"Monsieur," replied Auguste, "Monsieur le vidame knows about this +affair; you can speak fearlessly before him." + +"Monsieur le baron," said Jules, in a grave voice, "you have troubled +and well-nigh destroyed my happiness without having any right to do +so. Until the moment when we can see clearly which of us should +demand, or grant, reparation to the other, you are bound to help me in +following the dark and mysterious path into which you have flung me. I +have now come to ascertain from you the present residence of the +extraordinary being who exercises such a baneful effect on your life +and mine. On my return home yesterday, after listening to your +avowals, I received that letter." + +Jules gave him the forged letter. + +"This Ferragus, this Bourignard, or this Monsieur de Funcal, is a +demon!" cried Maulincour, after having read it. "Oh, what a frightful +maze I put my foot into when I meddled in this matter! Where am I +going? I did wrong, monsieur," he continued, looking at Jules; "but +death is the greatest of all expiations, and my death is now +approaching. You can ask me whatever you like; I am at your orders." + +"Monsieur, you know, of course, where this man is living, and I must +know it if it costs me all my fortune to penetrate this mystery. In +presence of so cruel an enemy every moment is precious." + +"Justin shall tell you all," replied the baron. + +At these words the vidame fidgeted on his chair. Auguste rang the +bell. + +"Justin is not in the house!" cried the vidame, in a hasty manner that +told much. + +"Well, then," said Auguste, excitedly, "the other servants must know +where he is; send a man on horseback to fetch him. Your valet is in +Paris, isn't he? He can be found." + +The vidame was visibly distressed. + +"Justin can't come, my dear boy," said the old man; "he is dead. I +wanted to conceal the accident from you, but--" + +"Dead!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour,--"dead! When and how?" + +"Last night. He had been supping with some old friends, and, I dare +say, was drunk; his friends--no doubt they were drunk, too--left him +lying in the street, and a heavy vehicle ran over him." + +"The convict did not miss _him_; at the first stroke he killed," said +Auguste. "He has had less luck with me; it has taken four blows to put +me out of the way." + +Jules was gloomy and thoughtful. + +"Am I to know nothing, then?" he cried, after a long pause. "Your +valet seems to have been justly punished. Did he not exceed your +orders in calumniating Madame Desmarets to a person named Ida, whose +jealousy he roused in order to turn her vindictiveness upon us?" + +"Ah, monsieur! in my anger I informed him about Madame Jules," said +Auguste. + +"Monsieur!" cried the husband, keenly irritated. + +"Oh, monsieur!" replied the baron, claiming silence by a gesture, "I +am prepared for all. You cannot tell me anything my own conscience has +not already told me. I am now expecting the most celebrated of all +professors of toxicology, in order to learn my fate. If I am destined +to intolerable suffering, my resolution is taken. I shall blow my +brains out." + +"You talk like a child!" cried the vidame, horrified by the coolness +with which the baron said these words. "Your grandmother would die of +grief." + +"Then, monsieur," said Jules, "am I to understand that there exist no +means of discovering in what part of Paris this extraordinary man +resides?" + +"I think, monsieur," said the old vidame, "from what I have heard poor +Justin say, that Monsieur de Funcal lives at either the Portuguese or +the Brazilian embassy. Monsieur de Funcal is a nobleman belonging to +both those countries. As for the convict, he is dead and buried. Your +persecutor, whoever he is, seems to me so powerful that it would be +well to take no decisive measures until you are sure of some way of +confounding and crushing him. Act prudently and with caution, my dear +monsieur. Had Monsieur de Maulincour followed my advice, nothing of +all this would have happened." + +Jules coldly but politely withdrew. He was now at a total loss to know +how to reach Ferragus. As he passed into his own house, the porter +told him that Madame had just been out to throw a letter into the post +box at the head of the rue de Menars. Jules felt humiliated by this +proof of the insight with which the porter espoused his cause, and the +cleverness by which he guessed the way to serve him. The eagerness of +servants, and their shrewdness in compromising masters who compromised +themselves, was known to him, and he fully appreciated the danger of +having them as accomplices, no matter for what purpose. But he could +not think of his personal dignity until the moment when he found +himself thus suddenly degraded. What a triumph for the slave who could +not raise himself to his master, to compel his master to come down to +his level! Jules was harsh and hard to him. Another fault. But he +suffered so deeply! His life till then so upright, so pure, was +becoming crafty; he was to scheme and lie. Clemence was scheming and +lying. This to him was a moment of horrible disgust. Lost in a flood +of bitter feelings, Jules stood motionless at the door of his house. +Yielding to despair, he thought of fleeing, of leaving France forever, +carrying with him the illusions of uncertainty. Then, again, not +doubting that the letter Clemence had just posted was addressed to +Ferragus, his mind searched for a means of obtaining the answer that +mysterious being was certain to send. Then his thoughts began to +analyze the singular good fortune of his life since his marriage, and +he asked himself whether the calumny for which he had taken such +signal vengeance was not a truth. Finally, reverting to the coming +answer, he said to himself:-- + +"But this man, so profoundly capable, so logical in his every act, who +sees and foresees, who calculates, and even divines, our very +thoughts, is he likely to make an answer? Will he not employ some +other means more in keeping with his power? He may send his answer by +some beggar; or in a carton brought by an honest man, who does not +suspect what he brings; or in some parcel of shoes, which a shop-girl +may innocently deliver to my wife. If Clemence and he have agreed upon +such means--" + +He distrusted all things; his mind ran over vast tracts and shoreless +oceans of conjecture. Then, after floating for a time among a thousand +contradictory ideas, he felt he was strongest in his own house, and he +resolved to watch it as the ant-lion watches his sandy labyrinth. + +"Fouguereau," he said to the porter, "I am not at home to any one who +comes to see me. If any one calls to see madame, or brings her +anything, ring twice. Bring all letters addressed here to me, no +matter for whom they are intended." + +"Thus," thought he, as he entered his study, which was in the +entresol, "I forestall the schemes of this Ferragus. If he sends some +one to ask for me so as to find out if Clemence is alone, at least I +shall not be tricked like a fool." + +He stood by the window of his study, which looked upon the street, and +then a final scheme, inspired by jealousy, came into his mind. He +resolved to send his head-clerk in his own carriage to the Bourse with +a letter to another broker, explaining his sales and purchases and +requesting him to do his business for that day. He postponed his more +delicate transactions till the morrow, indifferent to the fall or rise +of stocks or the debts of all Europe. High privilege of love!--it +crushes all things, all interests fall before it: altar, throne, +consols! + +At half-past three, just the hour at which the Bourse is in full blast +of reports, monthly settlements, premiums, etc., Fouguereau entered +the study, quite radiant with his news. + +"Monsieur, an old woman has come, but very cautiously; I think she's a +sly one. She asked for monsieur, and seemed much annoyed when I told +her he was out; then she gave me a letter for madame, and here it is." + +Fevered with anxiety, Jules opened the letter; then he dropped into a +chair, exhausted. The letter was mere nonsense throughout, and needed +a key. It was virtually in cipher. + +"Go away, Fouguereau." The porter left him. "It is a mystery deeper +than the sea below the plummet line! Ah! it must be love; love only is +so sagacious, so inventive as this. Ah! I shall kill her." + +At this moment an idea flashed through his brain with such force that +he felt almost physically illuminated by it. In the days of his +toilsome poverty before his marriage, Jules had made for himself a +true friend. The extreme delicacy with which he had managed the +susceptibilities of a man both poor and modest; the respect with which +he had surrounded him; the ingenious cleverness he had employed to +nobly compel him to share his opulence without permitting it to make +him blush, increased their friendship. Jacquet continued faithful to +Desmarets in spite of his wealth. + +Jacquet, a nobly upright man, a toiler, austere in his morals, had +slowly made his way in that particular ministry which develops both +honesty and knavery at the same time. A clerk in the ministry of +Foreign Affairs, he had charge of the most delicate division of its +archives. Jacquet in that office was like a glow-worm, casting his +light upon those secret correspondences, deciphering and classifying +despatches. Ranking higher than a mere _bourgeois_, his position at +the ministry was superior to that of the other subalterns. He lived +obscurely, glad to feel that such obscurity sheltered him from +reverses and disappointments, and was satisfied to humbly pay in the +lowest coin his debt to the country. Thanks to Jules, his position had +been much ameliorated by a worthy marriage. An unrecognized patriot, a +minister in actual fact, he contented himself with groaning in his +chimney-corner at the course of the government. In his own home, +Jacquet was an easy-going king,--an umbrella-man, as they say, who +hired a carriage for his wife which he never entered himself. In +short, to end this sketch of a philosopher unknown to himself, he had +never suspected and never in all his life would suspect the advantages +he might have drawn from his position,--that of having for his +intimate friend a broker, and of knowing every morning all the secrets +of the State. This man, sublime after the manner of that nameless +soldier who died in saving Napoleon by a "qui vive," lived at the +ministry. + +In ten minutes Jules was in his friend's office. Jacquet gave him a +chair, laid aside methodically his green silk eye-shade, rubbed his +hands, picked up his snuff-box, rose, stretched himself till his +shoulder-blades cracked, swelled out his chest, and said:-- + +"What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?" + +"Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret,--a secret of life and +death." + +"It doesn't concern politics?" + +"If it did, I shouldn't come to you for information," said Jules. "No, +it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely +silent." + +"Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession. Don't you know me by this +time?" he said, laughing. "Discretion is my lot." + +Jules showed him the letter. + +"You must read me this letter, addressed to my wife." + +"The deuce! the deuce! a bad business!" said Jacquet, examining the +letter as a usurer examines a note to be negotiated. "Ha! that's a +gridiron letter! Wait a minute." + +He left Jules alone for a moment, but returned immediately. + +"Easy enough to read, my friend! It is written on the gridiron plan, +used by the Portuguese minister under Monsieur de Choiseul, at the +time of the dismissal of the Jesuits. Here, see!" + +Jacquet placed upon the writing a piece of paper cut out in regular +squares, like the paper laces which confectioners wrap round their +sugarplums; and Jules then read with perfect ease the words that were +visible in the interstices. They were as follows:-- + + "Don't be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be + troubled; and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions. + However ill you may be, you must have the courage to come here + to-morrow; find strength in your love for me. Mine for you has + induced me to submit to a cruel operation, and I cannot leave my + bed. I have had the actual cautery applied to my back, and it was + necessary to burn it in a long time; you understand me? But I + thought of you, and I did not suffer. + + "To baffle Maulincour (who will not persecute us much longer), I + have left the protecting roof of the embassy, and am now safe from + all inquiry in the rue des Enfants-Rouges, number 12, with an old + woman, Madame Etienne Gruget, mother of that Ida, who shall pay + dear for her folly. Come to-morrow, at nine in the morning. I am + in a room which is reached only by an interior staircase. Ask for + Monsieur Camuset. Adieu; I kiss your forehead, my darling." + +Jacquet looked at Jules with a sort of honest terror, the sign of a +true compassion, as he made his favorite exclamation in two separate +and distinct tones,-- + +"The deuce! the deuce!" + +"That seems clear to you, doesn't it?" said Jules. "Well, in the +depths of my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes +itself heard above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of +all agony until to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall +know all; I shall be happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me +then, Jacquet." + +"I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o'clock. We will go +together; I'll wait for you, if you like, in the street. You may run +some danger, and you ought to have near you some devoted person who'll +understand a mere sign, and whom you can safely trust. Count on me." + +"Even to help me in killing some one?" + +"The deuce! the deuce!" said Jacquet, repeating, as it were, the same +musical note. "I have two children and a wife." + +Jules pressed his friend's hand and went away; but returned +immediately. + +"I forgot the letter," he said. "But that's not all, I must reseal +it." + +"The deuce! the deuce! you opened it without saving the seal; however, +it is still possible to restore it. Leave it with me and I'll bring it +to you _secundum scripturam_." + +"At what time?" + +"Half-past five." + +"If I am not yet in, give it to the porter and tell him to send it up +to madame." + +"Do you want me to-morrow?" + +"No. Adieu." + +Jules drove at once to the place de la Rotonde du Temple, where he +left his cabriolet and went on foot to the rue des Enfants-Rouges. He +found the house of Madame Etienne Gruget and examined it. There, the +mystery on which depended the fate of so many persons would be cleared +up; there, at this moment, was Ferragus, and to Ferragus all the +threads of this strange plot led. The Gordian knot of the drama, +already so bloody, was surely in a meeting between Madame Jules, her +husband, and that man; and a blade able to cut the closest of such +knots would not be wanting. + +The house was one of those which belong to the class called +_cabajoutis_. This significant name is given by the populace of Paris +to houses which are built, as it were, piecemeal. They are nearly +always composed of buildings originally separate but afterwards united +according to the fancy of the various proprietors who successively +enlarge them; or else they are houses begun, left unfinished, again +built upon, and completed,--unfortunate structures which have passed, +like certain peoples, under many dynasties of capricious masters. +Neither the floors nor the windows have an _ensemble_,--to borrow one +of the most picturesque terms of the art of painting; all is discord, +even the external decoration. The _cabajoutis_ is to Parisian +architecture what the _capharnaum_ is to the apartment,--a poke-hole, +where the most heterogeneous articles are flung pell-mell. + +"Madame Etienne?" asked Jules of the portress. + +This portress had her lodge under the main entrance, in a sort +of chicken coop, or wooden house on rollers, not unlike those +sentry-boxes which the police have lately set up by the stands +of hackney-coaches. + +"Hein?" said the portress, without laying down the stocking she was +knitting. + +In Paris the various component parts which make up the physiognomy of +any given portion of the monstrous city, are admirably in keeping with +its general character. Thus porter, concierge, or Suisse, whatever +name may be given to that essential muscle of the Parisian monster, is +always in conformity with the neighborhood of which he is a part; in +fact, he is often an epitome of it. The lazy porter of the faubourg +Saint-Germain, with lace on every seam of his coat, dabbles in stocks; +he of the Chaussee d'Antin takes his ease, reads the money-articles in +the newspapers, and has a business of his own in the faubourg +Montmartre. The portress in the quarter of prostitution was formerly a +prostitute; in the Marais, she has morals, is cross-grained, and full +of crotchets. + +On seeing Monsieur Jules this particular portress, holding her +knitting in one hand, took a knife and stirred the half-extinguished +peat in her foot-warmer; then she said:-- + +"You want Madame Etienne; do you mean Madame Etienne Gruget?" + +"Yes," said Jules, assuming a vexed air. + +"Who makes trimmings?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, monsieur," she said, issuing from her cage, and laying +her hand on Jules' arm and leading him to the end of a long +passage-way, vaulted like a cellar, "go up the second staircase at +the end of the court-yard--where you will see the windows with the +pots of pinks; that's where Madame Etienne lives." + +"Thank you, madame. Do you think she is alone?" + +"Why shouldn't she be alone? she's a widow." + +Jules hastened up a dark stairway, the steps of which were knobby with +hardened mud left by the feet of those who came and went. On the +second floor he saw three doors but no signs of pinks. Fortunately, on +one of the doors, the oiliest and darkest of the three, he read these +words, chalked on a panel: "Ida will come to-night at nine o'clock." + +"This is the place," thought Jules. + +He pulled an old bellrope, black with age, and heard the smothered +sound of a cracked bell and the barking of an asthmatic little dog. By +the way the sounds echoed from the interior he knew that the rooms +were encumbered with articles which left no space for reverberation, +--a characteristic feature of the homes of workmen and humble +households, where space and air are always lacking. + +Jules looked out mechanically for the pinks, and found them on the +outer sill of a sash window between two filthy drain-pipes. So here +were flowers; here, a garden, two yards long and six inches wide; +here, a wheat-ear; here, a whole life epitomized; but here, too, all +the miseries of that life. A ray of light falling from heaven as if by +special favor on those puny flowers and the vigorous wheat-ear brought +out in full relief the dust, the grease, and that nameless color, +peculiar to Parisian squalor, made of dirt, which crusted and spotted +the damp walls, the worm-eaten balusters, the disjointed +window-casings, and the door originally red. Presently the cough of an +old woman, and a heavy female step, shuffling painfully in list +slippers, announced the coming of the mother of Ida Gruget. The +creature opened the door and came out upon the landing, looked up, and +said:-- + +"Ah! is this Monsieur Bocquillon? Why, no? But perhaps you're his +brother. What can I do for you? Come in, monsieur." + +Jules followed her into the first room, where he saw, huddled +together, cages, household utensils, ovens, furniture, little +earthenware dishes full of food or water for the dog and the cats, a +wooden clock, bed-quilts, engravings of Eisen, heaps of old iron, all +these things mingled and massed together in a way that produced a most +grotesque effect,--a true Parisian dusthole, in which were not lacking +a few old numbers of the "Constitutionel." + +Jules, impelled by a sense of prudence, paid no attention to the +widow's invitation when she said civilly, showing him an inner room:-- + +"Come in here, monsieur, and warm yourself." + +Fearing to be overheard by Ferragus, Jules asked himself whether it +were not wisest to conclude the arrangement he had come to make with +the old woman in the crowded antechamber. A hen, which descended +cackling from a loft, roused him from this inward meditation. He came +to a resolution, and followed Ida's mother into the inner room, +whither they were accompanied by the wheezy pug, a personage otherwise +mute, who jumped upon a stool. Madame Gruget showed the assumption of +semi-pauperism when she invited her visitor to warm himself. Her +fire-pot contained, or rather concealed two bits of sticks, which lay +apart: the grating was on the ground, its handle in the ashes. The +mantel-shelf, adorned with a little wax Jesus under a shade of squares +of glass held together with blue paper, was piled with wools, bobbins, +and tools used in the making of gimps and trimmings. Jules examined +everything in the room with a curiosity that was full of interest, and +showed, in spite of himself, an inward satisfaction. + +"Well, monsieur, tell me, do you want to buy any of my things?" said +the old woman, seating herself in a cane arm-chair, which appeared to +be her headquarters. In it she kept her handkerchief, snuffbox, +knitting, half-peeled vegetables, spectacles, calendar, a bit of +livery gold lace just begun, a greasy pack of cards, and two volumes +of novels, all stuck into the hollow of the back. This article of +furniture, in which the old creature was floating down the river of +life, was not unlike the encyclopedic bag which a woman carries with +her when she travels; in which may be found a compendium of her +household belongings, from the portrait of her husband to _eau de +Melisse_ for faintness, sugarplums for the children, and English +court-plaster in case of cuts. + +Jules studied all. He looked attentively at Madame Gruget's yellow +visage, at her gray eyes without either brows or lashes, her toothless +mouth, her wrinkles marked in black, her rusty cap, her still more +rusty ruffles, her cotton petticoat full of holes, her worn-out +slippers, her disabled fire-pot, her table heaped with dishes and +silks and work begun or finished, in wool or cotton, in the midst of +which stood a bottle of wine. Then he said to himself: "This old woman +has some passion, some strong liking or vice; I can make her do my +will." + +"Madame," he said aloud, with a private sign of intelligence, "I have +come to order some livery trimmings." Then he lowered his voice. "I +know," he continued, "that you have a lodger who has taken the name of +Camuset." The old woman looked at him suddenly, but without any sign +of astonishment. "Now, tell me, can we come to an understanding? This +is a question which means fortune for you." + +"Monsieur," she replied, "speak out, and don't be afraid. There's no +one here. But if I had any one above, it would be impossible for him +to hear you." + +"Ha! the sly old creature, she answers like a Norman," thought Jules, +"We shall agree. Do not give yourself the trouble to tell falsehoods, +madame," he resumed, "In the first place, let me tell you that I mean +no harm either to you or to your lodger who is suffering from cautery, +or to your daughter Ida, a stay-maker, the friend of Ferragus. You +see, I know all your affairs. Do not be uneasy; I am not a detective +policeman, nor do I desire anything that can hurt your conscience. A +young lady will come here to-morrow-morning at half-past nine o'clock, +to talk with this lover of your daughter. I want to be where I can see +all and hear all, without being seen or heard by them. If you will +furnish me with the means of doing so, I will reward that service with +the gift of two thousand francs and a yearly stipend of six hundred. +My notary shall prepare a deed before you this evening, and I will +give him the money to hold; he will pay the two thousand to you +to-morrow after the conference at which I desire to be present, as you +will then have given proofs of your good faith." + +"Will it injure my daughter, my good monsieur?" she asked, casting a +cat-like glance of doubt and uneasiness upon him. + +"In no way, madame. But, in any case, it seems to me that your +daughter does not treat you well. A girl who is loved by so rich a man +as Ferragus ought to make you more comfortable than you seem to be." + +"Ah, my dear monsieur, just think, not so much as one poor ticket to +the Ambigu, or the Gaiete, where she can go as much as she likes. It's +shameful! A girl for whom I sold my silver forks and spoons! and now I +eat, at my age, with German metal,--and all to pay for her +apprenticeship, and give her a trade, where she could coin money if +she chose. As for that, she's like me, clever as a witch; I must do +her that justice. But, I will say, she might give me her old silk +gowns,--I, who am so fond of wearing silk. But no! Monsieur, she dines +at the Cadran-Bleu at fifty francs a head, and rolls in her carriage +as if she were a princess, and despises her mother for a Colin-Lampon. +Heavens and earth! what heedless young ones we've brought into the +world; we have nothing to boast of there. A mother, monsieur, can't be +anything else but a good mother; and I've concealed that girl's ways, +and kept her in my bosom, to take the bread out of my mouth and cram +everything into her own. Well, well! and now she comes and fondles one +a little, and says, 'How d'ye do, mother?' And that's all the duty she +thinks of paying. But she'll have children one of these days, and then +she'll find out what it is to have such baggage,--which one can't help +loving all the same." + +"Do you mean that she does nothing for you?" + +"Ah, nothing? No, monsieur, I didn't say that; if she did nothing, +that would be a little too much. She gives me my rent and thirty-six +francs a month. But, monsieur, at my age,--and I'm fifty-two years +old, with eyes that feel the strain at night,--ought I to be working +in this way? Besides, why won't she have me to live with her? I should +shame her, should I? Then let her say so. Faith, one ought to be +buried out of the way of such dogs of children, who forget you before +they've even shut the door." + +She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, and with it a lottery +ticket that dropped on the floor; but she hastily picked it up, +saying, "Hi! that's the receipt for my taxes." + +Jules at once perceived the reason of the sagacious parsimony of which +the mother complained; and he was the more certain that the widow +Gruget would agree to the proposed bargain. + +"Well, then, madame," he said, "accept what I offer you." + +"Did you say two thousand francs in ready money, and six hundred +annuity, monsieur?" + +"Madame, I've changed my mind; I will promise you only three hundred +annuity. This way seems more to my own interests. But I will give you +five thousand francs in ready money. Wouldn't you like that as well?" + +"Bless me, yes, monsieur!" + +"You'll get more comfort out of it; and you can go to the Ambigu and +Franconi's at your ease in a coach." + +"As for Franconi, I don't like that, for they don't talk there. +Monsieur, if I accept, it is because it will be very advantageous for +my child. I sha'n't be a drag on her any longer. Poor little thing! +I'm glad she has her pleasures, after all. Ah, monsieur, youth must be +amused! And so, if you assure me that no harm will come to anybody--" + +"Not to anybody," replied Jules. "But now, how will you manage it?" + +"Well, monsieur, if I give Monsieur Ferragus a little tea made of +poppy-heads to-night, he'll sleep sound, the dear man; and he needs +it, too, because of his sufferings, for he does suffer, I can tell +you, and more's the pity. But I'd like to know what a healthy man like +him wants to burn his back for, just to get rid of a tic douleureux +which troubles him once in two years. However, to come back to our +business. I have my neighbor's key; her lodging is just above mine, +and in it there's a room adjoining the one where Monsieur Ferragus is, +with only a partition between them. My neighbor is away in the country +for ten days. Therefore, if I make a hole to-night while Monsieur +Ferragus is sound asleep, you can see and hear them to-morrow at your +ease. I'm on good terms with a locksmith,--a very friendly man, who +talks like an angel, and he'll do the work for me and say nothing +about it." + +"Then here's a hundred francs for him. Come to-night to Monsieur +Desmaret's office; he's a notary, and here's his address. At nine +o'clock the deed will be ready, but--silence!" + +"Enough, monsieur; as you say--silence! Au revoir, monsieur." + +Jules went home, almost calmed by the certainty that he should know +the truth on the morrow. As he entered the house, the porter gave him +the letter properly resealed. + +"How do you feel now?" he said to his wife, in spite of the coldness +that separated them. + +"Pretty well, Jules," she answered in a coaxing voice, "do come and +dine beside me." + +"Very good," he said, giving her the letter. "Here is something +Fouguereau gave me for you." + +Clemence, who was very pale, colored high when she saw the letter, and +that sudden redness was a fresh blow to her husband. + +"Is that joy," he said, laughing, "or the effect of expectation?" + +"Oh, of many things!" she said, examining the seal. + +"I leave you now for a few moments." + +He went down to his study, and wrote to his brother, giving him +directions about the payment to the widow Gruget. When he returned, he +found his dinner served on a little table by his wife's bedside, and +Josephine ready to wait on him. + +"If I were up how I should like to serve you myself," said Clemence, +when Josephine had left them. "Oh, yes, on my knees!" she added, +passing her white hands through her husband's hair. "Dear, noble +heart, you were very kind and gracious to me just now. You did me more +good by showing me such confidence than all the doctors on earth could +do me with their prescriptions. That feminine delicacy of yours--for +you do know how to love like a woman--well, it has shed a balm into my +heart which has almost cured me. There's truce between us, Jules; +lower your head, that I may kiss it." + +Jules could not deny himself the pleasure of that embrace. But it was +not without a feeling of remorse in his heart; he felt himself small +before this woman whom he was still tempted to think innocent. A sort +of melancholy joy possessed him. A tender hope shone on her features +in spite of their grieved expression. They both were equally unhappy +in deceiving each other; another caress, and, unable to resist their +suffering, all would then have been avowed. + +"To-morrow evening, Clemence." + +"No, no; to-morrow morning, by twelve o'clock, you will know all, and +you'll kneel down before your wife--Oh, no! you shall not be +humiliated; you are all forgiven now; you have done no wrong. Listen, +Jules; yesterday you did crush me--harshly; but perhaps my life would +not have been complete without that agony; it may be a shadow that +will make our coming days celestial." + +"You lay a spell upon me," cried Jules; "you fill me with remorse." + +"Poor love! destiny is stronger than we, and I am not the accomplice +of mine. I shall go out to-morrow." + +"At what hour?" asked Jules. + +"At half-past nine." + +"Clemence," he said, "take every precaution; consult Doctor Desplein +and old Haudry." + +"I shall consult nothing but my heart and my courage." + +"I shall leave you free; you will not see me till twelve o'clock." + +"Won't you keep me company this evening? I feel so much better." + +After attending to some business, Jules returned to his wife, +--recalled by her invincible attraction. His passion was stronger +than his anguish. + +The next day, at nine o'clock Jules left home, hurried to the rue des +Enfants-Rouges, went upstairs, and rang the bell of the widow Gruget's +lodgings. + +"Ah! you've kept your word, as true as the dawn. Come in, monsieur," +said the old woman when she saw him. "I've made you a cup of coffee +with cream," she added, when the door was closed. "Oh! real cream; I +saw it milked myself at the dairy we have in this very street." + +"Thank you, no, madame, nothing. Take me at once--" + +"Very good, monsieur. Follow me, this way." + +She led him up into the room above her own, where she showed him, +triumphantly, an opening about the size of a two-franc piece, made +during the night, in a place, which, in each room, was above a +wardrobe. In order to look through it, Jules was forced to maintain +himself in rather a fatiguing attitude, by standing on a step-ladder +which the widow had been careful to place there. + +"There's a gentleman with him," she whispered, as she retired. + +Jules then beheld a man employed in dressing a number of wounds on the +shoulders of Ferragus, whose head he recognized from the description +given to him by Monsieur de Maulincour. + +"When do you think those wounds will heal?" asked Ferragus. + +"I don't know," said the other man. "The doctors say those wounds will +require seven or eight more dressings." + +"Well, then, good-bye until to-night," said Ferragus, holding out his +hand to the man, who had just replaced the bandage. + +"Yes, to-night," said the other, pressing his hand cordially. "I wish +I could see you past your sufferings." + +"To-morrow Monsieur de Funcal's papers will be delivered to us, and +Henri Bourignard will be dead forever," said Ferragus. "Those fatal +marks which have cost us so dear no longer exist. I shall become once +more a social being, a man among men, and more of a man than the +sailor whom the fishes are eating. God knows it is not for my own sake +I have made myself a Portuguese count!" + +"Poor Gratien!--you, the wisest of us all, our beloved brother, the +Benjamin of the band; as you very well know." + +"Adieu; keep an eye on Maulincour." + +"You can rest easy on that score." + +"Ho! stay, marquis," cried the convict. + +"What is it?" + +"Ida is capable of everything after the scene of last night. If she +should throw herself into the river, I would not fish her out. She +knows the secret of my name, and she'll keep it better there. But +still, look after her; for she is, in her way, a good girl." + +"Very well." + +The stranger departed. Ten minutes later Jules heard, with a feverish +shudder, the rustle of a silk gown, and almost recognized by their +sound the steps of his wife. + +"Well, father," said Clemence, "my poor father, are you better? What +courage you have shown!" + +"Come here, my child," replied Ferragus, holding out his hand to her. + +Clemence held her forehead to him and he kissed it. + +"Now tell me, what is the matter, my little girl? What are these new +troubles?" + +"Troubles, father! it concerns the life or death of the daughter you +have loved so much. Indeed you must, as I wrote you yesterday, you +_must_ find a way to see my poor Jules to-day. If you knew how good he +has been to me, in spite of all suspicions apparently so legitimate. +Father, my love is my very life. Would you see me die? Ah! I have +suffered so much that my life, I feel it! is in danger." + +"And all because of the curiosity of that miserable Parisian?" cried +Ferragus. "I'd burn Paris down if I lost you, my daughter. Ha! you may +know what a lover is, but you don't yet know what a father can do." + +"Father, you frighten me when you look at me in that way. Don't weigh +such different feelings in the same scales. I had a husband before I +knew that my father was living--" + +"If your husband was the first to lay kisses on your forehead, I was +the first to drop tears upon it," replied Ferragus. "But don't feel +frightened, Clemence, speak to me frankly. I love you enough to +rejoice in the knowledge that you are happy, though I, your father, +may have little place in your heart, while you fill the whole of +mine." + +"Ah! what good such words do me! You make me love you more and more, +though I seem to rob something from my Jules. But, my kind father, +think what his sufferings are. What may I tell him to-day?" + +"My child, do you think I waited for your letter to save you from this +threatened danger? Do you know what will become of those who venture +to touch your happiness, or come between us? Have you never been aware +that a second providence was guarding your life? Twelve men of power +and intellect form a phalanx round your love and your existence, +--ready to do all things to protect you. Think of your father, who has +risked death to meet you in the public promenades, or see you asleep +in your little bed in your mother's home, during the night-time. Could +such a father, to whom your innocent caresses give strength to live +when a man of honor ought to have died to escape his infamy, could +_I_, in short, I who breathe through your lips, and see with your +eyes, and feel with your heart, could I fail to defend with the claws +of a lion and the soul of a father, my only blessing, my life, my +daughter? Since the death of that angel, your mother, I have dreamed +but of one thing,--the happiness of pressing you to my heart in the +face of the whole earth, of burying the convict,--" He paused a +moment, and then added: "--of giving you a father, a father who could +press without shame your husband's hand, who could live without fear +in both your hearts, who could say to all the world, 'This is my +daughter,'--in short, to be a happy father." + +"Oh, father! father!" + +"After infinite difficulty, after searching the whole globe," +continued Ferragus, "my friends have found me the skin of a dead man +in which to take my place once more in social life. A few days hence, +I shall be Monsieur de Funcal, a Portuguese count. Ah! my dear child, +there are few men of my age who would have had the patience to learn +Portuguese and English, which were spoken fluently by that devil of a +sailor, who was drowned at sea." + +"But, my dear father--" + +"All has been foreseen, and prepared. A few days hence, his Majesty +John VI., King of Portugal will be my accomplice. My child, you must +have a little patience where your father has had so much. But ah! what +would I not do to reward your devotion for the last three years, +--coming religiously to comfort your old father, at the risk of your +own peace!" + +"Father!" cried Clemence, taking his hands and kissing them. + +"Come, my child, have courage still; keep my fatal secret a few days +longer, till the end is reached. Jules is not an ordinary man, I know; +but are we sure that his lofty character and his noble love may not +impel him to dislike the daughter of a--" + +"Oh!" cried Clemence, "you have read my heart; I have no other fear +than that. The very thought turns me to ice," she added, in a +heart-rending tone. "But, father, think that I have promised him the +truth in two hours." + +"If so, my daughter, tell him to go to the Portuguese embassy and see +the Comte de Funcal, your father. I will be there." + +"But Monsieur de Maulincour has told him of Ferragus. Oh, father, what +torture, to deceive, deceive, deceive!" + +"Need you say that to me? But only a few days more, and no living man +will be able to expose me. Besides, Monsieur de Maulincour is beyond +the faculty of remembering. Come, dry your tears, my silly child, and +think--" + +At this instant a terrible cry rang from the room in which Jules +Desmarets was stationed. + +The clamor was heard by Madame Jules and Ferragus through the opening +of the wall, and struck them with terror. + +"Go and see what it means, Clemence," said her father. + +Clemence ran rapidly down the little staircase, found the door into +Madame Gruget's apartment wide open, heard the cries which echoed from +the upper floor, went up the stairs, guided by the noise of sobs, and +caught these words before she entered the fatal chamber:-- + +"You, monsieur, you, with your horrid inventions,--you are the cause +of her death!" + +"Hush, miserable woman!" replied Jules, putting his handkerchief on +the mouth of the old woman, who began at once to cry out, "Murder! +help!" + +At this instant Clemence entered, saw her husband, uttered a cry, and +fled away. + +"Who will save my child?" cried the widow Gruget. "You have murdered +her." + +"How?" asked Jules, mechanically, for he was horror-struck at being +seen by his wife. + +"Read that," said the old woman, giving him a letter. "Can money or +annuities console me for that?" + + + Farewell, mother! I bequeeth you what I have. I beg your pardon + for my forlts, and the last greef to which I put you by ending my + life in the river. Henry, who I love more than myself, says I have + made his misfortune, and as he has drifen me away, and I have lost + all my hops of merrying him, I am going to droun myself. I shall + go abov Neuilly, so that they can't put me in the Morg. If Henry + does not hate me anny more after I am ded, ask him to berry a pore + girl whose hart beet for him only, and to forgif me, for I did + rong to meddle in what didn't consern me. Tak care of his wounds. + How much he sufered, pore fellow! I shall have as much corage to + kill myself as he had to burn his bak. Carry home the corsets I + have finished. And pray God for your daughter. + +Ida. + + +"Take this letter to Monsieur de Funcal, who is upstairs," said Jules. +"He alone can save your daughter, if there is still time." + +So saying he disappeared, running like a man who has committed a +crime. His legs trembled. The hot blood poured into his swelling heart +in torrents greater than at any other moment of his life, and left it +again with untold violence. Conflicting thoughts struggled in his +mind, and yet one thought predominated,--he had not been loyal to the +being he loved most. It was impossible for him to argue with his +conscience, whose voice, rising high with conviction, came like an +echo of those inward cries of his love during the cruel hours of doubt +he had lately lived through. + +He spent the greater part of the day wandering about Paris, for he +dared not go home. This man of integrity and honor feared to meet the +spotless brow of the woman he had misjudged. We estimate wrongdoing in +proportion to the purity of our conscience; the deed which is scarcely +a fault in some hearts, takes the proportions of a crime in certain +unsullied souls. The slightest stain on the white garment of a virgin +makes it a thing ignoble as the rags of a mendicant. Between the two +the difference lies in the misfortune of the one, the wrong-doing of +the other. God never measures repentance; he never apportions it. As +much is needed to efface a spot as to obliterate the crimes of a +lifetime. These reflections fell with all their weight on Jules; +passions, like human laws, will not pardon, and their reasoning is +more just; for are they not based upon a conscience of their own as +infallible as an instinct? + +Jules finally came home pale, despondent, crushed beneath a sense of +his wrong-doing, and yet expressing in spite of himself the joy his +wife's innocence had given him. He entered her room all throbbing with +emotion; she was in bed with a high fever. He took her hand, kissed +it, and covered it with tears. + +"Dear angel," he said, when they were alone, "it is repentance." + +"And for what?" she answered. + +As she made that reply, she laid her head back upon the pillow, closed +her eyes, and remained motionless, keeping the secret of her +sufferings that she might not frighten her husband,--the tenderness of +a mother, the delicacy of an angel! All the woman was in her answer. + +The silence lasted long. Jules, thinking her asleep, went to question +Josephine as to her mistress's condition. + +"Madame came home half-dead, monsieur. We sent at once for Monsieur +Haudry." + +"Did he come? What did he say?" + +"He said nothing, monsieur. He did not seem satisfied; gave orders +that no one should go near madame except the nurse, and said he should +come back this evening." + +Jules returned softly to his wife's room and sat down in a chair +before the bed. There he remained, motionless, with his eyes fixed on +those of Clemence. When she raised her eyelids she saw him, and +through those lids passed a tender glance, full of passionate love, +free from reproach and bitterness,--a look which fell like a flame of +fire upon the heart of that husband, nobly absolved and forever loved +by the being whom he had killed. The presentiment of death struck both +their minds with equal force. Their looks were blended in one anguish, +as their hearts had long been blended in one love, felt equally by +both, and shared equally. No questions were uttered; a horrible +certainty was there,--in the wife an absolute generosity; in the +husband an awful remorse; then, in both souls the same vision of the +end, the same conviction of fatality. + +There came a moment when, thinking his wife asleep, Jules kissed her +softly on the forehead; then after long contemplation of that +cherished face, he said:-- + +"Oh God! leave me this angel still a little while that I may blot out +my wrong by love and adoration. As a daughter, she is sublime; as a +wife, what word can express her?" + +Clemence raised her eyes; they were full of tears. + +"You pain me," she said, in a feeble voice. + +It was getting late; Doctor Haudry came, and requested the husband to +withdraw during his visit. When the doctor left the sick-room Jules +asked him no question; one gesture was enough. + +"Call in consultation any physician in whom you place confidence; I +may be wrong." + +"Doctor, tell me the truth. I am a man, and I can bear it. Besides, I +have the deepest interest in knowing it; I have certain affairs to +settle." + +"Madame Jules is dying," said the physician. "There is some moral +malady which has made great progress, and it has complicated her +physical condition, which was already dangerous, and made still more +so by her great imprudence. To walk about barefooted at night! to go +out when I forbade it! on foot yesterday in the rain, to-day in a +carriage! She must have meant to kill herself. But still, my judgment +is not final; she has youth, and a most amazing nervous strength. It +may be best to risk all to win all by employing some violent reagent. +But I will not take upon myself to order it; nor will I advise it; in +consultation I shall oppose it." + +Jules returned to his wife. For eleven days and eleven nights he +remained beside her bed, taking no sleep during the day when he laid +his head upon the foot of the bed. No man ever pushed the jealousy of +care and the craving for devotion to such an extreme as he. He could +not endure that the slightest service should be done by others for his +wife. There were days of uncertainty, false hopes, now a little +better, then a crisis,--in short, all the horrible mutations of death +as it wavers, hesitates, and finally strikes. Madame Jules always +found strength to smile at her husband. She pitied him, knowing that +soon he would be alone. It was a double death,--that of life, that of +love; but life grew feebler, and love grew mightier. One frightful +night there was, when Clemence passed through that delirium which +precedes the death of youth. She talked of her happy love, she talked +of her father; she related her mother's revelations on her death-bed, +and the obligations that mother had laid upon her. She struggled, not +for life, but for her love which she could not leave. + +"Grant, O God!" she said, "that he may not know I want him to die with +me." + +Jules, unable to bear the scene, was at that moment in the adjoining +room, and did not hear the prayer, which he would doubtless have +fulfilled. + +When this crisis was over, Madame Jules recovered some strength. The +next day she was beautiful and tranquil; hope seemed to come to her; +she adorned herself, as the dying often do. Then she asked to be alone +all day, and sent away her husband with one of those entreaties made +so earnestly that they are granted as we grant the prayer of a little +child. + +Jules, indeed, had need of this day. He went to Monsieur de Maulincour +to demand the satisfaction agreed upon between them. It was not +without great difficulty that he succeeded in reaching the presence of +the author of these misfortunes; but the vidame, when he learned that +the visit related to an affair of honor, obeyed the precepts of his +whole life, and himself took Jules into the baron's chamber. + +Monsieur Desmarets looked about him in search of his antagonist. + +"Yes! that is really he," said the vidame, motioning to a man who was +sitting in an arm-chair beside the fire. + +"Who is it? Jules?" said the dying man in a broken voice. + +Auguste had lost the only faculty that makes us live--memory. Jules +Desmarets recoiled with horror at this sight. He could not even +recognize the elegant young man in that thing without--as Bossuet +said--a name in any language. It was, in truth, a corpse with whitened +hair, its bones scarce covered with a wrinkled, blighted, withered +skin,--a corpse with white eyes motionless, mouth hideously gaping, +like those of idiots or vicious men killed by excesses. No trace of +intelligence remained upon that brow, nor in any feature; nor was +there in that flabby flesh either color or the faintest appearance of +circulating blood. Here was a shrunken, withered creature brought to +the state of those monsters we see preserved in museums, floating in +alchohol. Jules fancied that he saw above that face the terrible head +of Ferragus, and his own anger was silenced by such a vengeance. The +husband found pity in his heart for the vacant wreck of what was once +a man. + +"The duel has taken place," said the vidame. + +"But he has killed many," answered Jules, sorrowfully. + +"And many dear ones," added the old man. "His grandmother is dying; +and I shall follow her soon into the grave." + +On the morrow of this day, Madame Jules grew worse from hour to hour. +She used a moment's strength to take a letter from beneath her pillow, +and gave it eagerly to her husband with a sign that was easy to +understand,--she wished to give him, in a kiss, her last breath. He +took it, and she died. Jules fell half-dead himself and was taken to +his brother's house. There, as he deplored in tears his absence of the +day before, his brother told him that this separation was eagerly +desired by Clemence, who wished to spare him the sight of the +religious paraphernalia, so terrible to tender imaginations, which the +Church displays when conferring the last sacraments upon the dying. + +"You could not have borne it," said his brother. "I could hardly bear +the sight myself, and all the servants wept. Clemence was like a +saint. She gathered strength to bid us all good-bye, and that voice, +heard for the last time, rent our hearts. When she asked pardon for +the pain she might unwillingly have caused her servants, there were +cries and sobs and--" + +"Enough! enough!" said Jules. + +He wanted to be alone, that he might read the last words of the woman +whom all had loved, and who had passed away like a flower. + + + "My beloved, this is my last will. Why should we not make wills + for the treasures of our hearts, as for our worldly property? Was + not my love my property, my all? I mean here to dispose of my + love: it was the only fortune of your Clemence, and it is all that + she can leave you in dying. Jules, you love me still, and I die + happy. The doctors may explain my death as they think best; I + alone know the true cause. I shall tell it to you, whatever pain + it may cause you. I cannot carry with me, in a heart all yours, a + secret which you do not share, although I die the victim of an + enforced silence. + + "Jules, I was nurtured and brought up in the deepest solitude, far + from the vices and the falsehoods of the world, by the loving + woman whom you knew. Society did justice to her conventional + charm, for that is what pleases society; but I knew secretly her + precious soul, I could cherish the mother who made my childhood a + joy without bitterness, and I knew why I cherished her. Was not + that to love doubly? Yes, I loved her, I feared her, I respected + her; yet nothing oppressed my heart, neither fear nor respect. I + was all in all to her; she was all in all to me. For nineteen + happy years, without a care, my soul, solitary amid the world + which muttered round me, reflected only her pure image; my heart + beat for her and through her. I was scrupulously pious; I found + pleasure in being innocent before God. My mother cultivated all + noble and self-respecting sentiments in me. Ah! it gives me + happiness to tell you, Jules, that I now know I was indeed a young + girl, and that I came to you virgin in heart. + + "When I left that absolute solitude, when, for the first time, I + braided my hair and crowned it with almond blossoms, when I added, + with delight, a few satin knots to my white dress, thinking of the + world I was to see, and which I was curious to see--Jules, that + innocent and modest coquetry was done for you! Yes, as I entered + the world, I saw _you_ first of all. Your face, I remarked it; it + stood out from the rest; your person pleased me; your voice, your + manners all inspired me with pleasant presentiments. When you came + up, when you spoke to me, the color on your forehead, the tremble + in your voice,--that moment gave me memories with which I throb as + I now write to you, as I now, for the last time, think of them. + Our love was at first the keenest of sympathies, but it was soon + discovered by each of us and then, as speedily, shared; just as, + in after times, we have both equally felt and shared innumerable + happinesses. From that moment my mother was only second in my + heart. Next, I was yours, all yours. There is my life, and all my + life, dear husband. + + "And here is what remains for me to tell you. One evening, a few + days before my mother's death, she revealed to me the secret of + her life,--not without burning tears. I have loved you better + since the day I learned from the priest as he absolved my mother + that there are passions condemned by the world and by the Church. + But surely God will not be severe when they are the sins of souls + as tender as that of my mother; only, that dear woman could never + bring herself to repent. She loved much, Jules; she was all love. + So I have prayed daily for her, but never judged her. + + "That night I learned the cause of her deep maternal tenderness; + then I also learned that there was in Paris a man whose life and + whose love centred on me; that your fortune was his doing, and + that he loved you. I learned also that he was exiled from society + and bore a tarnished name; but that he was more unhappy for me, + for us, than for himself. My mother was all his comfort; she was + dying, and I promised to take her place. With all the ardor of a + soul whose feelings had never been perverted, I saw only the + happiness of softening the bitterness of my mother's last moments, + and I pledged myself to continue her work of secret charity,--the + charity of the heart. The first time that I saw my father was + beside the bed where my mother had just expired. When he raised + his tearful eyes, it was to see in me a revival of his dead hopes. + I had sworn, not to tell a lie, but to keep silence; and that + silence what woman could have broken it? + + "There is my fault, Jules,--a fault which I expiate by death. I + doubted you. But fear is so natural to a woman; above all, a woman + who knows what it is that she may lose. I trembled for our love. + My father's secret seemed to me the death of my happiness; and the + more I loved, the more I feared. I dared not avow this feeling to + my father; it would have wounded him, and in his situation a wound + was agony. But, without a word from me, he shared my fears. That + fatherly heart trembled for my happiness as much as I trembled for + myself; but it dared not speak, obeying the same delicacy that + kept me mute. Yes, Jules, I believed that you could not love the + daughter of Gratien Bourignard as you loved your Clemence. Without + that terror could I have kept back anything from you,--you who + live in every fold of my heart? + + "The day when that odious, unfortunate young officer spoke to you, + I was forced to lie. That day, for the second time in my life, I + knew what pain was; that pain has steadily increased until this + moment, when I speak with you for the last time. What matters now + my father's position? You know all. I could, by the help of my + love, have conquered my illness and borne its sufferings; but I + cannot stifle the voice of doubt. Is it not probable that my + origin would affect the purity of your love and weaken it, + diminish it? That fear nothing has been able to quench in me. + There, Jules, is the cause of my death. I cannot live fearing a + word, a look,--a word you may never say, a look you may never + give; but, I cannot help it, I fear them. I die beloved; there is + my consolation. + + "I have known, for the last three years, that my father and his + friends have well-nigh moved the world to deceive the world. That + I might have a station in life, they have bought a dead man, a + reputation, a fortune, so that a living man might live again, + restored; and all this for you, for us. We were never to have + known of it. Well, my death will save my father from that + falsehood, for he will not survive me. + + "Farewell, Jules, my heart is all here. To show you my love in its + agony of fear, is not that bequeathing my whole soul to you? I + could never have the strength to speak to you; I have only enough + to write. I have just confessed to God the sins of my life. I have + promised to fill my mind with the King of Heaven only; but I must + confess to him who is, for me, the whole of earth. Alas! shall I + not be pardoned for this last sigh between the life that was and + the life that shall be? Farewell, my Jules, my loved one! I go to + God, with whom is Love without a cloud, to whom you will follow + me. There, before his throne, united forever, we may love each + other throughout the ages. This hope alone can comfort me. If I am + worthy of being there at once, I will follow you through life. My + soul shall bear your company; it will wrap you about, for _you_ + must stay here still,--ah! here below. Lead a holy life that you + may the more surely come to me. You can do such good upon this + earth! Is it not an angel's mission for the suffering soul to shed + happiness about him,--to give to others that which he has not? I + bequeath you to the Unhappy. Their smiles, their tears, are the + only ones of which I cannot be jealous. We shall find a charm in + sweet beneficence. Can we not live together still if you would + join my name--your Clemence--in these good works? + + "After loving as we have loved, there is naught but God, Jules. + God does not lie; God never betrays. Adore him only, I charge you! + Lead those who suffer up to him; comfort the sorrowing members of + his Church. Farewell, dear soul that I have filled! I know you; + you will never love again. I may die happy in the thought that + makes all women happy. Yes, my grave will be your heart. After + this childhood I have just related, has not my life flowed on + within that heart? Dead, you will never drive me forth. I am proud + of that rare life! You will know me only in the flower of my + youth; I leave you regrets without disillusions. Jules, it is a + happy death. + + "You, who have so fully understood me, may I ask one thing more of + you,--superfluous request, perhaps, the fulfilment of a woman's + fancy, the prayer of a jealousy we all must feel,--I pray you to + burn all that especially belonged to _us_, destroy our chamber, + annihilate all that is a memory of our happiness. + + "Once more, farewell,--the last farewell! It is all love, and so + will be my parting thought, my parting breath." + + +When Jules had read that letter there came into his heart one of those +wild frenzies of which it is impossible to describe the awful anguish. +All sorrows are individual; their effects are not subjected to any +fixed rule. Certain men will stop their ears to hear nothing; some +women close their eyes hoping never to see again; great and splendid +souls are met with who fling themselves into sorrow as into an abyss. +In the matter of despair, all is true. + + + + CHAPTER V + + CONCLUSION + + +Jules escaped from his brother's house and returned home, wishing to +pass the night beside his wife, and see till the last moment that +celestial creature. As he walked along with an indifference to life +known only to those who have reached the last degree of wretchedness, +he thought of how, in India, the law ordained that widows should die; +he longed to die. He was not yet crushed; the fever of his grief was +still upon him. He reached his home and went up into the sacred +chamber; he saw his Clemence on the bed of death, beautiful, like a +saint, her hair smoothly laid upon her forehead, her hands joined, her +body wrapped already in its shroud. Tapers were lighted, a priest was +praying, Josephine kneeling in a corner, wept, and, near the bed, were +two men. One was Ferragus. He stood erect, motionless, gazing at his +daughter with dry eyes; his head you might have taken for bronze: he +did not see Jules. + +The other man was Jacquet,--Jacquet, to whom Madame Jules had been +ever kind. Jacquet felt for her one of those respectful friendships +which rejoice the untroubled heart; a gentle passion; love without its +desires and its storms. He had come to pay his debt of tears, to bid a +long adieu to the wife of his friend, to kiss, for the first time, the +icy brow of the woman he had tacitly made his sister. + +All was silence. Here death was neither terrible as in the churches, +nor pompous as it makes its way along the streets; no, it was death in +the home, a tender death; here were pomps of the heart, tears drawn +from the eyes of all. Jules sat down beside Jacquet and pressed his +hand; then, without uttering a word, all these persons remained as +they were till morning. + +When daylight paled the tapers, Jacquet, foreseeing the painful scenes +which would then take place, drew Jules away into another room. At +this moment the husband looked at the father, and Ferragus looked at +Jules. The two sorrows arraigned each other, measured each other, and +comprehended each other in that look. A flash of fury shone for an +instant in the eyes of Ferragus. + +"You killed her," thought he. + +"Why was I distrusted?" seemed the answer of the husband. + +The scene was one that might have passed between two tigers +recognizing the futility of a struggle and, after a moment's +hesitation, turning away, without even a roar. + +"Jacquet," said Jules, "have you attended to everything?" + +"Yes, to everything," replied his friend, "but a man had forestalled +me who had ordered and paid for all." + +"He tears his daughter from me!" cried the husband, with the violence +of despair. + +Jules rushed back to his wife's room; but the father was there no +longer. Clemence had now been placed in a leaden coffin, and workmen +were employed in soldering the cover. Jules returned, horrified by the +sight; the sound of the hammers the men were using made him +mechanically burst into tears. + +"Jacquet," he said, "out of this dreadful night one idea has come to +me, only one, but one I must make a reality at any price. I cannot let +Clemence stay in any cemetery in Paris. I wish to burn her,--to gather +her ashes and keep her with me. Say nothing of this, but manage on my +behalf to have it done. I am going to _her_ chamber, where I shall +stay until the time has come to go. You alone may come in there to +tell me what you have done. Go, and spare nothing." + +During the morning, Madame Jules, after lying in a mortuary chapel at +the door of her house, was taken to Saint-Roch. The church was hung +with black throughout. The sort of luxury thus displayed had drawn a +crowd; for in Paris all things are sights, even true grief. There are +people who stand at their windows to see how a son deplores a mother +as he follows her body; there are others who hire commodious seats to +see how a head is made to fall. No people in the world have such +insatiate eyes as the Parisians. On this occasion, inquisitive minds +were particularly surprised to see the six lateral chapels at +Saint-Roch also hung in black. Two men in mourning were listening to a +mortuary mass said in each chapel. In the chancel no other persons but +Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, and Jacquet were present; the servants +of the household were outside the screen. To church loungers there was +something inexplicable in so much pomp and so few mourners. But Jules +had been determined that no indifferent persons should be present at +the ceremony. + +High mass was celebrated with the sombre magnificence of funeral +services. Beside the ministers in ordinary of Saint-Roch, thirteen +priests from other parishes were present. Perhaps never did the _Dies +irae_ produce upon Christians, assembled by chance, by curiosity, and +thirsting for emotions, an effect so profound, so nervously glacial as +that now caused by this hymn when the eight voices of the precentors, +accompanied by the voices of the priests and the choir-boys, intoned +it alternately. From the six lateral chapels twelve other childish +voices rose shrilly in grief, mingling with the choir voices +lamentably. From all parts of the church this mourning issued; cries +of anguish responded to the cries of fear. That terrible music was the +voice of sorrows hidden from the world, of secret friendships weeping +for the dead. Never, in any human religion, have the terrors of the +soul, violently torn from the body and stormily shaken in presence of +the fulminating majesty of God, been rendered with such force. Before +that clamor of clamors all artists and their most passionate +compositions must bow humiliated. No, nothing can stand beside that +hymn, which sums all human passions, gives them a galvanic life beyond +the coffin, and leaves them, palpitating still, before the living and +avenging God. These cries of childhood, mingling with the tones of +older voices, including thus in the Song of Death all human life and +its developments, recalling the sufferings of the cradle, swelling to +the griefs of other ages in the stronger male voices and the quavering +of the priests,--all this strident harmony, big with lightning and +thunderbolts, does it not speak with equal force to the daring +imagination, the coldest heart, nay, to philosophers themselves? As we +hear it, we think God speaks; the vaulted arches of no church are mere +material; they have a voice, they tremble, they scatter fear by the +might of their echoes. We think we see unnumbered dead arising and +holding out their hands. It is no more a father, a wife, a child, +--humanity itself is rising from its dust. + +It is impossible to judge of the catholic, apostolic, and Roman faith, +unless the soul has known that deepest grief of mourning for a loved +one lying beneath the pall; unless it has felt the emotions that fill +the heart, uttered by that Hymn of Despair, by those cries that crush +the mind, by that sacred fear augmenting strophe by strophe, ascending +heavenward, which terrifies, belittles, and elevates the soul, and +leaves within our minds, as the last sound ceases, a consciousness of +immortality. We have met and struggled with the vast idea of the +Infinite. After that, all is silent in the church. No word is said; +sceptics themselves _know not what they are feeling_. Spanish genius +alone was able to bring this untold majesty to untold griefs. + +When the solemn ceremony was over, twelve men came from the six +chapels and stood around the coffin to hear the song of hope which the +Church intones for the Christian soul before the human form is buried. +Then, each man entered alone a mourning-coach; Jacquet and Monsieur +Desmarets took the thirteenth; the servants followed on foot. An hour +later, they were at the summit of that cemetery popularly called +Pere-Lachaise. The unknown twelve men stood in a circle round the +grave, where the coffin had been laid in presence of a crowd of +loiterers gathered from all parts of this public garden. After a few +short prayers the priest threw a handful of earth on the remains of +this woman, and the grave-diggers, having asked for their fee, made +haste to fill the grave in order to dig another. + +Here this history seems to end; but perhaps it would be incomplete if, +after giving a rapid sketch of Parisian life, and following certain of +its capricious undulations, the effects of death were omitted. Death +in Paris is unlike death in any other capital; few persons know the +trials of true grief in its struggle with civilization, and the +government of Paris. Perhaps, also, Monsieur Jules and Ferragus XXIII. +may have proved sufficiently interesting to make a few words on their +after life not entirely out of place. Besides, some persons like to be +told all, and wish, as one of our cleverest critics has remarked, to +know by what chemical process oil was made to burn in Aladdin's lamp. + +Jacquet, being a government employee, naturally applied to the +authorities for permission to exhume the body of Madame Jules and burn +it. He went to see the prefect of police, under whose protection the +dead sleep. That functionary demanded a petition. The blank was +brought that gives to sorrow its proper administrative form; it was +necessary to employ the bureaucratic jargon to express the wishes of a +man so crushed that words, perhaps, were lacking to him, and it was +also necessary to coldly and briefly repeat on the margin the nature +of the request, which was done in these words: "The petitioner +respectfully asks for the incineration of his wife." + +When the official charged with making the report to the Councillor of +State and prefect of police read that marginal note, explaining the +object of the petition, and couched, as requested, in the plainest +terms, he said:-- + +"This is a serious matter! my report cannot be ready under eight +days." + +Jules, to whom Jacquet was obliged to speak of this delay, +comprehended the words that Ferragus had said in his hearing, "I'll +burn Paris!" Nothing seemed to him now more natural than to annihilate +that receptacle of monstrous things. + +"But," he said to Jacquet, "you must go to the minister of the +Interior, and get your minister to speak to him." + +Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; +it was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet +was a persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally +reached the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom +he had made the private secretary of his own minister say a word. +These high protectors aiding, he obtained for the morrow a second +interview, in which, being armed with a line from the autocrat of +Foreign affairs to the pacha of the Interior, Jacquet hoped to carry +the matter by assault. He was ready with reasons, and answers to +peremptory questions,--in short, he was armed at all points; but he +failed. + +"This matter does not concern me," said the minister; "it belongs to +the prefect of police. Besides, there is no law giving a husband any +legal right to the body of his wife, nor to fathers those of their +children. The matter is serious. There are questions of public utility +involved which will have to be examined. The interests of the city of +Paris might suffer. Therefore if the matter depended on me, which it +does not, I could not decide _hic et nunc_; I should require a +report." + +A _report_ is to the present system of administration what limbo or +hades is to Christianity. Jacquet knew very well the mania for +"reports"; he had not waited until this occasion to groan at that +bureaucratic absurdity. He knew that since the invasion into public +business of the _Report_ (an administrative revolution consummated in +1804) there was never known a single minister who would take upon +himself to have an opinion or to decide the slightest matter, unless +that opinion or matter had been winnowed, sifted, and plucked to bits +by the paper-spoilers, quill-drivers, and splendid intellects of his +particular bureau. Jacquet--he was one of those who are worthy of +Plutarch as biographer--saw that he had made a mistake in his +management of the affair, and had, in fact, rendered it impossible by +trying to proceed legally. The thing he should have done was to have +taken Madame Jules to one of Desmaret's estates in the country; and +there, under the good-natured authority of some village mayor to have +gratified the sorrowful longing of his friend. Law, constitutional and +administrative, begets nothing; it is a barren monster for peoples, +for kings, and for private interests. But the peoples decipher no +principles but those that are writ in blood, and the evils of legality +will always be pacific; it flattens a nation down, that is all. +Jacquet, a man of modern liberty, returned home reflecting on the +benefits of arbitrary power. + +When he went with his report to Jules, he found it necessary to +deceive him, for the unhappy man was in a high fever, unable to leave +his bed. The minister of the Interior mentioned, at a ministerial +dinner that same evening, the singular fancy of a Parisian in wishing +to burn his wife after the manner of the Romans. The clubs of Paris +took up the subject, and talked for a while of the burials of +antiquity. Ancient things were just then becoming a fashion, and some +persons declared that it would be a fine thing to re-establish, for +distinguished persons, the funeral pyre. This opinion had its +defenders and its detractors. Some said that there were too many such +personages, and the price of wood would be enormously increased by +such a custom; moreover, it would be absurd to see our ancestors in +their urns in the procession at Longchamps. And if the urns were +valuable, they were likely some day to be sold at auction, full of +respectable ashes, or seized by creditors,--a race of men who +respected nothing. The other side made answer that our ancestors were +much safer in urns than at Pere-Lachaise, for before very long the +city of Paris would be compelled to order a Saint-Bartholomew against +its dead, who were invading the neighboring country, and threatening +to invade the territory of Brie. It was, in short, one of those futile +but witty discussions which sometimes cause deep and painful wounds. +Happily for Jules, he knew nothing of the conversations, the witty +speeches, and arguments which his sorrow had furnished to the tongues +of Paris. + +The prefect of police was indignant that Monsieur Jacquet had appealed +to a minister to avoid the wise delays of the commissioners of the +public highways; for the exhumation of Madame Jules was a question +belonging to that department. The police bureau was doing its best to +reply promptly to the petition; one appeal was quite sufficient to set +the office in motion, and once in motion matters would go far. But as +for the administration, that might take the case before the Council of +state,--a machine very difficult indeed to move. + +After the second day Jacquet was obliged to tell his friend that he +must renounce his desire, because, in a city where the number of tears +shed on black draperies is tariffed, where the laws recognize seven +classes of funerals, where the scrap of ground to hold the dead is +sold at its weight in silver, where grief is worked for what it is +worth, where the prayers of the Church are costly, and the vestry +claim payment for extra voices in the _Dies irae_,--all attempt to get +out of the rut prescribed by the authorities for sorrow is useless and +impossible. + +"It would have been to me," said Jules, "a comfort in my misery. I +meant to have died away from here, and I hoped to hold her in my arms +in a distant grave. I did not know that bureaucracy could send its +claws into our very coffins." + +He now wished to see if room had been left for him beside his wife. +The two friends went to the cemetery. When they reached it they found +(as at the doors of museums, galleries, and coach-offices) _ciceroni_, +who proposed to guide them through the labyrinth of Pere-Lachaise. +Neither Jules nor Jacquet could have found the spot where Clemence +lay. Ah, frightful anguish! They went to the lodge to consult the +porter of the cemetery. The dead have a porter, and there are hours +when the dead are "not receiving." It is necessary to upset all the +rules and regulations of the upper and lower police to obtain +permission to weep at night, in silence and solitude, over the grave +where a loved one lies. There's a rule for summer and a rule for +winter about this. + +Certainly, of all the porters in Paris, the porter of Pere-Lachaise is +the luckiest. In the first place, he has no gate-cord to pull; then, +instead of a lodge, he has a house,--an establishment which is not +quite ministerial, although a vast number of persons come under his +administration, and a good many employees. And this governor of the +dead has a salary, with emoluments, and acts under powers of which +none complain; he plays despot at his ease. His lodge is not a place +of business, though it has departments where the book-keeping of +receipts, expenses, and profits, is carried on. The man is not a +_suisse_, nor a concierge, nor actually a porter. The gate which +admits the dead stands wide open; and though there are monuments and +buildings to be cared for, he is not a care-taker. In short, he is an +indefinable anomaly, an authority which participates in all, and yet +is nothing,--an authority placed, like the dead on whom it is based, +outside of all. Nevertheless, this exceptional man grows out of the +city of Paris,--that chimerical creation like the ship which is its +emblem, that creature of reason moving on a thousand paws which are +seldom unanimous in motion. + +This guardian of the cemetery may be called a concierge who has +reached the condition of a functionary, not soluble by dissolution! +His place is far from being a sinecure. He does not allow any one to +be buried without a permit; he must count his dead. He points out to +you in this vast field the six feet square of earth where you will one +day put all you love, or all you hate, a mistress, or a cousin. Yes, +remember this: all the feelings and emotions of Paris come to end +here, at this porter's lodge, where they are administrationized. This +man has registers in which his dead are booked; they are in their +graves, and also on his records. He has under him keepers, gardeners, +grave-diggers, and their assistants. He is a personage. Mourning +hearts do not speak to him at first. He does not appear at all except +in serious cases, such as one corpse mistaken for another, a murdered +body, an exhumation, a dead man coming to life. The bust of the +reigning king is in his hall; possibly he keeps the late royal, +imperial, and quasi-royal busts in some cupboard,--a sort of little +Pere-Lachaise all ready for revolutions. In short, he is a public man, +an excellent man, good husband and good father,--epitaph apart. But so +many diverse sentiments have passed before him on biers; he has seen +so many tears, true and false; he has beheld sorrow under so many +aspects and on so many faces; he has heard such endless thousands of +eternal woes,--that to him sorrow has come to be nothing more than a +stone an inch thick, four feet long, and twenty-four inches wide. As +for regrets, they are the annoyances of his office; he neither +breakfasts nor dines without first wiping off the rain of an +inconsolable affliction. He is kind and tender to other feelings; he +will weep over a stage-hero, over Monsieur Germeuil in the "Auberge +des Adrets," the man with the butter-colored breeches, murdered by +Macaire; but his heart is ossified in the matter of real dead men. +Dead men are ciphers, numbers, to him; it is his business to organize +death. Yet he does meet, three times in a century, perhaps, with an +occasion when his part becomes sublime, and then he _is_ sublime +through every hour of his day,--in times of pestilence. + +When Jacquet approached him this absolute monarch was evidently out of +temper. + +"I told you," he was saying, "to water the flowers from the rue +Massena to the place Regnault de Saint-Jean-d'Angely. You paid no +attention to me! _Sac-a-papier_! suppose the relations should take it +into their heads to come here to-day because the weather is fine, what +would they say to me? They'd shriek as if they were burned; they'd say +horrid things of us, and calumniate us--" + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, "we want to know where Madame Jules is +buried." + +"Madame Jules _who_?" he asked. "We've had three Madame Jules within +the last week. Ah," he said, interrupting himself, "here comes the +funeral of Monsieur le Baron de Maulincour! A fine procession, that! +He has soon followed his grandmother. Some families, when they begin +to go, rattle down like a wager. Lots of bad blood in Parisians." + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, touching him on the arm, "the person I spoke +of is Madame Jules Desmarets, the wife of the broker of that name." + +"Ah, I know!" he replied, looking at Jacquet. "Wasn't it a funeral +with thirteen mourning coaches, and only one mourner in the twelve +first? It was so droll we all noticed it--" + +"Monsieur, take care, Monsieur Desmarets is with me; he might hear +you, and what you say is not seemly." + +"I beg pardon, monsieur! you are quite right. Excuse me, I took you +for heirs. Monsieur," he continued, after consulting a plan of the +cemetery, "Madame Jules is in the rue Marechal Lefebre, alley No. 4, +between Mademoiselle Raucourt, of the Comedie-Francaise, and Monsieur +Moreau-Malvin, a butcher, for whom a handsome tomb in white marble has +been ordered, which will be one of the finest in the cemetery--" + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, interrupting him, "that does not help us." + +"True," said the official, looking round him. "Jean," he cried, to a +man whom he saw at a little distance, "conduct these gentlemen to the +grave of Madame Jules Desmarets, the broker's wife. You know where it +is,--near to Mademoiselle Raucourt, the tomb where there's a bust." + +The two friends followed the guide; but they did not reach the steep +path which leads to the upper part of the cemetery without having to +pass through a score of proposals and requests, made, with honied +softness, by the touts of marble-workers, iron-founders, and +monumental sculptors. + +"If monsieur would like to order _something_, we would do it on the +most reasonable terms." + +Jacquet was fortunate enough to be able to spare his friend the +hearing of these proposals so agonizing to bleeding hearts; and +presently they reached the resting-place. When Jules beheld the earth +so recently dug, into which the masons had stuck stakes to mark the +place for the stone posts required to support the iron railing, he +turned, and leaned upon Jacquet's shoulder, raising himself now and +again to cast long glances at the clay mound where he was forced to +leave the remains of the being in and by whom he still lived. + +"How miserably she lies there!" he said. + +"But she is not there," said Jacquet, "she is in your memory. Come, +let us go; let us leave this odious cemetery, where the dead are +adorned like women for a ball." + +"Suppose we take her away?" + +"Can it be done?" + +"All things can be done!" cried Jules. "So, I shall lie there," he +added, after a pause. "There is room enough." + +Jacquet finally succeeded in getting him to leave the great enclosure, +divided like a chessboard by iron railings and elegant compartments, +in which were tombs decorated with palms, inscriptions, and tears as +cold as the stones on which sorrowing hearts had caused to be carved +their regrets and coats of arms. Many good words are there engraved in +black letters, epigrams reproving the curious, _concetti_, wittily +turned farewells, rendezvous given at which only one side appears, +pretentious biographies, glitter, rubbish and tinsel. Here the +floriated thyrsus, there a lance-head, farther on Egyptian urns, now +and then a few cannon; on all sides the emblems of professions, and +every style of art,--Moorish, Greek, Gothic,--friezes, ovules, +paintings, vases, guardian-angels, temples, together with innumerable +_immortelles_, and dead rose-bushes. It is a forlorn comedy! It is +another Paris, with its streets, its signs, its industries, and its +lodgings; but a Paris seen through the diminishing end of an +opera-glass, a microscopic Paris reduced to the littleness of shadows, +spectres, dead men, a human race which no longer has anything great +about it, except its vanity. There Jules saw at his feet, in the long +valley of the Seine, between the slopes of Vaugirard and Meudon and +those of Belleville and Montmartre, the real Paris, wrapped in a misty +blue veil produced by smoke, which the sunlight tendered at that +moment diaphanous. He glanced with a constrained eye at those forty +thousand houses, and said, pointing to the space comprised between the +column of the Place Vendome and the gilded cupola of the Invalides:-- + +"She was wrenched from me there by the fatal curiosity of that world +which excites itself and meddles solely for excitement and +occupation." + +Twelve miles from where they were, on the banks of the Seine, in a +modest village lying on the slope of a hill of that long hilly basin +the middle of which great Paris stirs like a child in its cradle, a +death scene was taking place, far indeed removed from Parisian pomps, +with no accompaniment of torches or tapers or mourning-coaches, +without prayers of the Church, in short, a death in all simplicity. +Here are the facts: The body of a young girl was found early in the +morning, stranded on the river-bank in the slime and reeds of the +Seine. Men employed in dredging sand saw it as they were getting into +their frail boat on their way to their work. + +"_Tiens_! fifty francs earned!" said one of them. + +"True," said the other. + +They approached the body. + +"A handsome girl! We had better go and make our statement." + +And the two dredgers, after covering the body with their jackets, went +to the house of the village mayor, who was much embarrassed at having +to make out the legal papers necessitated by this discovery. + +The news of this event spread with the telegraphic rapidity peculiar +to regions where social communications have no distractions, where +gossip, scandal, calumny, in short, the social tale which feasts the +world has no break of continuity from one boundary to another. Before +long, persons arriving at the mayor's office released him from all +embarrassment. They were able to convert the _proces-verbal_ into a +mere certificate of death, by recognizing the body as that of the +Demoiselle Ida Gruget, corset-maker, living rue de la +Corderie-du-Temple, number 14. The judiciary police of Paris arrived, +and the mother, bearing her daughter's last letter. Amid the mother's +moans, a doctor certified to death by asphyxia, through the injection +of black blood into the pulmonary system,--which settled the matter. +The inquest over, and the certificates signed, by six o'clock the same +evening authority was given to bury the grisette. The rector of the +parish, however, refused to receive her into the church or to pray for +her. Ida Gruget was therefore wrapped in a shroud by an old +peasant-woman, put into a common pine-coffin, and carried to the +village cemetery by four men, followed by a few inquisitive +peasant-women, who talked about the death with wonder mingled with +some pity. + +The widow Gruget was charitably taken in by an old lady who prevented +her from following the sad procession of her daughter's funeral. A man +of triple functions, the bell-ringer, beadle, and grave-digger of the +parish, had dug a grave in the half-acre cemetery behind the church, +--a church well known, a classic church, with a square tower and +pointed roof covered with slate, supported on the outside by strong +corner buttresses. Behind the apse of the chancel, lay the cemetery, +enclosed with a dilapidated wall,--a little field full of hillocks; +no marble monuments, no visitors, but surely in every furrow, tears +and true regrets, which were lacking to Ida Gruget. She was cast into +a corner full of tall grass and brambles. After the coffin had been +laid in this field, so poetic in its simplicity, the grave-digger +found himself alone, for night was coming on. While filling the grave, +he stopped now and then to gaze over the wall along the road. He was +standing thus, resting on his spade, and looking at the Seine, which +had brought him the body. + +"Poor girl!" cried the voice of a man who suddenly appeared. + +"How you made me jump, monsieur," said the grave-digger. + +"Was any service held over the body you are burying?" + +"No, monsieur. Monsieur le cure wasn't willing. This is the first +person buried here who didn't belong to the parish. Everybody knows +everybody else in this place. Does monsieur--Why, he's gone!" + +Some days had elapsed when a man dressed in black called at the house +of Monsieur Jules Desmarets, and without asking to see him carried up +to the chamber of his wife a large porphyry vase, on which were +inscribed the words:-- + + + INVITA LEGE + CONJUGI MOERENTI + FILIOLAE CINERES + RESTITUIT + AMICIS XII. JUVANTIBUS + MORIBUNDUS PATER. + + +"What a man!" cried Jules, bursting into tears. + +Eight days sufficed the husband to obey all the wishes of his wife, +and to arrange his own affairs. He sold his practice to a brother of +Martin Falleix, and left Paris while the authorities were still +discussing whether it was lawful for a citizen to dispose of the body +of his wife. + + * * * * * + +Who has not encountered on the boulevards of Paris, at the turn of a +street, or beneath the arcades of the Palais-Royal, or in any part of +the world where chance may offer him the sight, a being, man or woman, +at whose aspect a thousand confused thoughts spring into his mind? At +that sight we are suddenly interested, either by features of some +fantastic conformation which reveal an agitated life, or by a singular +effect of the whole person, produced by gestures, air, gait, clothes; +or by some deep, intense look; or by other inexpressible signs which +seize our minds suddenly and forcibly without our being able to +explain even to ourselves the cause of our emotion. The next day other +thoughts and other images have carried out of sight that passing +dream. But if we meet the same personage again, either passing at some +fixed hour, like the clerk of a mayor's office, or wandering about the +public promenades, like those individuals who seem to be a sort of +furniture of the streets of Paris, and who are always to be found in +public places, at first representations or noted restaurants,--then +this being fastens himself or herself on our memory, and remains there +like the first volume of a novel the end of which is lost. We are +tempted to question this unknown person, and say, "Who are you?" "Why +are you lounging here?" "By what right do you wear that pleated +ruffle, that faded waistcoat, and carry that cane with an ivory top; +why those blue spectacles; for what reason do you cling to that cravat +of a dead and gone fashion?" Among these wandering creations some +belong to the species of the Greek Hermae; they say nothing to the +soul; _they are there_, and that is all. Why? is known to none. Such +figure are a type of those used by sculptors for the four Seasons, for +Commerce, for Plenty, etc. Some others--former lawyers, old merchants, +elderly generals--move and walk, and yet seem stationary. Like old +trees that are half uprooted by the current of a river, they seem +never to take part in the torrent of Paris, with its youthful, active +crowd. It is impossible to know if their friends have forgotten to +bury them, or whether they have escaped out of their coffins. At any +rate, they have reached the condition of semi-fossils. + +One of these Parisian Melmoths had come within a few days into a +neighborhood of sober, quiet people, who, when the weather is fine, +are invariably to be found in the space which lies between the south +entrance of the Luxembourg and the north entrance of the Observatoire, +--a space without a name, the neutral space of Paris. There, Paris is +no longer; and there, Paris still lingers. The spot is a mingling of +street, square, boulevard, fortification, garden, avenue, high-road, +province, and metropolis; certainly, all of that is to be found there, +and yet the place is nothing of all that,--it is a desert. Around this +spot without a name stand the Foundling hospital, the Bourbe, the +Cochin hospital, the Capucines, the hospital La Rochefoucauld, the +Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the hospital of the Val-de-Grace; in short, all +the vices and all the misfortunes of Paris find their asylum there. +And (that nothing may lack in this philanthropic centre) Science there +studies the tides and longitudes, Monsieur de Chateaubriand has +erected the Marie-Therese Infirmary, and the Carmelites have founded a +convent. The great events of life are represented by bells which ring +incessantly through this desert,--for the mother giving birth, for the +babe that is born, for the vice that succumbs, for the toiler who +dies, for the virgin who prays, for the old man shaking with cold, for +genius self-deluded. And a few steps off is the cemetery of +Mont-Parnasse, where, hour after hour, the sorry funerals of the +faubourg Saint-Marceau wend their way. This esplanade, which commands +a view of Paris, has been taken possession of by bowl-players; it is, +in fact, a sort of bowling green frequented by old gray faces, +belonging to kindly, worthy men, who seem to continue the race of our +ancestors, whose countenances must only be compared with those of +their surroundings. + +The man who had become, during the last few days, an inhabitant of +this desert region, proved an assiduous attendant at these games of +bowls; and must, undoubtedly, be considered the most striking creature +of these various groups, who (if it is permissible to liken Parisians +to the different orders of zoology) belonged to the genus mollusk. The +new-comer kept sympathetic step with the _cochonnet_,--the little bowl +which serves as a goal and on which the interest of the game must +centre. He leaned against a tree when the _cochonnet_ stopped; then, +with the same attention that a dog gives to his master's gestures, he +looked at the other bowls flying through the air, or rolling along the +ground. You might have taken him for the weird and watchful genii of +the _cochonnet_. He said nothing; and the bowl-players--the most +fanatic men that can be encountered among the sectarians of any faith +--had never asked the reason of his dogged silence; in fact, the most +observing of them thought him deaf and dumb. + +When it happened that the distances between the bowls and the +_cochonnet_ had to be measured, the cane of this silent being was used +as a measure, the players coming up and taking it from the icy hands +of the old man and returning it without a word or even a sign of +friendliness. The loan of his cane seemed a servitude to which he had +negatively consented. When a shower fell, he stayed near the +_cochonnet_, the slave of the bowls, and the guardian of the +unfinished game. Rain affected him no more than the fine weather did; +he was, like the players themselves, an intermediary species between a +Parisian who has the lowest intellect of his kind and an animal which +has the highest. + +In other respects, pallid and shrunken, indifferent to his own person, +vacant in mind, he often came bareheaded, showing his sparse white +hair, and his square, yellow, bald skull, like the knee of a beggar +seen through his tattered trousers. His mouth was half-open, no ideas +were in his glance, no precise object appeared in his movements; he +never smiled; he never raised his eyes to heaven, but kept them +habitually on the ground, where he seemed to be looking for something. +At four o'clock an old woman arrived, to take him Heaven knows where; +which she did by towing him along by the arm, as a young girl drags a +wilful goat which still wants to browse by the wayside. This old man +was a horrible thing to see. + +In the afternoon of the day when Jules Desmarets left Paris, his +travelling-carriage, in which he was alone, passed rapidly through the +rue de l'Est, and came out upon the esplanade of the Observatoire at +the moment when the old man, leaning against a tree, had allowed his +cane to be taken from his hand amid the noisy vociferations of the +players, pacifically irritated. Jules, thinking that he recognized +that face, felt an impulse to stop, and at the same instant the +carriage came to a standstill; for the postilion, hemmed in by some +handcarts, had too much respect for the game to call upon the players +to make way for him. + +"It is he!" said Jules, beholding in that human wreck, Ferragus +XXIII., chief of the Devorants. Then, after a pause, he added, "How he +loved her!--Go on, postilion." + + + + +ADDENDUM + + Note: Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is + entitled The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with + the Golden Eyes. In other addendum references all three stories + are usually combined under the title The Thirteen. + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Bourignard, Gratien-Henri-Victor-Jean-Joseph + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + +Desmartes, Jules + Cesar Birotteau + +Desmartes, Madame Jules + Cesar Birotteau + +Desplein + The Atheist's Mass + Cousin Pons + Lost Illusions + The Government Clerks + Pierrette + A Bachelor's Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Honorine + +Gruget, Madame Etienne + The Government Clerks + A Bachelor's Establishment + +Haudry (doctor) + Cesar Birotteau + A Bachelor's Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Cousin Pons + +Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de + Father Goriot + The Duchesse of Langeais + +Marsay, Henri de + The Duchesse of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve + +Maulincour, Baronne de + A Marriage Settlement + +Meynardie, Madame + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + +Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de + Father Goriot + Eugenie Grandet + Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Commission in Lunacy + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Modeste Mignon + The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + +Pamiers, Vidame de + The Duchesse of Langeais + Jealousies of a Country Town + +Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Duchess of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + +Serizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + The Duchesse of Langeais + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERRAGUS *** + +***** This file should be named 1649.txt or 1649.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/6/4/1649/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz +Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com +and Bonnie Sala + + + + + +FERRAGUS, +CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + +by HONORE DE BALZAC + + + + +Translated By +Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + + +DEDICATION + +To Hector Berlioz. + + + +PREFACE + +Thirteen men were banded together in Paris under the Empire, all +imbued with one and the same sentiment, all gifted with sufficient +energy to be faithful to the same thought, with sufficient honor among +themselves never to betray one another even if their interests +clashed; and sufficiently wily and politic to conceal the sacred ties +that united them, sufficiently strong to maintain themselves above the +law, bold enough to undertake all things, and fortunate enough to +succeed, nearly always, in their undertakings; having run the greatest +dangers, but keeping silence if defeated; inaccessible to fear; +trembling neither before princes, nor executioners, not even before +innocence; accepting each other for such as they were, without social +prejudices,--criminals, no doubt, but certainly remarkable through +certain of the qualities that make great men, and recruiting their +number only among men of mark. That nothing might be lacking to the +sombre and mysterious poesy of their history, these Thirteen men have +remained to this day unknown; though all have realized the most +chimerical ideas that the fantastic power falsely attributed to the +Manfreds, the Fausts, and the Melmoths can suggest to the imagination. +To-day, they are broken up, or, at least, dispersed; they have +peaceably put their necks once more under the yoke of civil law, just +as Morgan, that Achilles among pirates, transformed himself from a +buccaneering scourge to a quiet colonist, and spent, without remorse, +around his domestic hearth the millions gathered in blood by the lurid +light of flames and slaughter. + +Since the death of Napoleon, circumstances, about which the author +must keep silence, have still farther dissolved the original bond of +this secret society, always extraordinary, sometimes sinister, as +though it lived in the blackest pages of Mrs. Radcliffe. A somewhat +strange permission to relate in his own way a few of the adventures of +these men (while respecting certain susceptibilities) has only +recently been given to him by one of those anonymous heroes to whom +all society was once occultly subjected. In this permission the writer +fancied he detected a vague desire for personal celebrity. + +This man, apparently still young, with fair hair and blue eyes, whose +sweet, clear voice seemed to denote a feminine soul, was pale of face +and mysterious in manner; he conversed affably, declared himself not +more than forty years of age, and apparently belonged to the very +highest social classes. The name which he assumed must have been +fictitious; his person was unknown in society. Who was he? That, no +one has ever known. + +Perhaps, in confiding to the author the extraordinary matters which he +related to him, this mysterious person may have wished to see them in +a manner reproduced, and thus enjoy the emotions they were certain to +bring to the hearts of the masses,--a feeling analogous to that of +Macpherson when the name of his creation Ossian was transcribed into +all languages. That was certainly, for the Scotch lawyer, one of the +keenest, or at any rate the rarest, sensations a man could give +himself. Is it not the incognito of genius? To write the "Itinerary +from Paris to Jerusalem" is to take a share in the human glory of a +single epoch; but to endow his native land with another Homer, was not +that usurping the work of God? + +The author knows too well the laws of narration to be ignorant of the +pledges this short preface is contracting for him; but he also knows +enough of the history of the THIRTEEN to be certain that his present +tale will never be thought below the interest inspired by this +programme. Dramas steeped in blood, comedies filled with terror, +romantic tales through which rolled heads mysteriously decapitated, +have been confided to him. If readers were not surfeited with horrors +served up to them of late in cold blood, he might reveal the calm +atrocities, the surpassing tragedies concealed under family life. But +he chooses in preference gentler events,--those where scenes of purity +succeed the tempests of passion; where woman is radiant with virtue +and beauty. To the honor of the THIRTEEN be it said that there are +such scenes in their history, which may have the honor of being some +day published as a foil of tales to listeners,--that race apart from +others, so curiously energetic, and so interesting in spite of its +crimes. + +An author ought to be above converting his tale, when the tale is +true, into a species of surprise-game, and of taking his readers, as +certain novellists do, through many volumes and from cellar to cellar, +to show them the dry bones of a dead body, and tell them, by way of +conclusion, that THAT is what has frightened them behind doors, hidden +in the arras, or in cellars where the dead man was buried and +forgotten. In spite of his aversion for prefaces, the author feels +bound to place the following statement at the head of this narrative. +Ferragus is a first episode which clings by invisible links to the +"History of the THIRTEEN," whose power, naturally acquired, can alone +explain certain acts and agencies which would otherwise seem +supernatural. Although it is permissible in tellers of tales to have a +sort of literary coquetry in becoming historians, they ought to +renounce the benefit that may accrue from an odd or fantastic title-- +on which certain slight successes have been won in the present day. +Consequently, the author will now explain, succinctly, the reasons +that obliged him to select a title to his book which seems at first +sight unnatural. + +FERRAGUS is, according to ancient custom, a name taken by the chief or +Grand Master of the Devorants. On the day of their election these +chiefs continue whichever of the dynasties of their Order they are +most in sympathy with, precisely as the Popes do, on their accession, +in connection with pontifical dynasties. Thus the Devorants have +"Trempe-la Soupe IX.," "Ferragus XXII.," "Tutanus XIII.," "Masche-Fer +IV.," just as the Church has Clement XIV., Gregory VII., Julius II., +Alexander VI., etc. + +Now, then, who are the Devorants? "Devorant" is the name of one of +those tribes of "Companions" that issued in ancient times from the +great mystical association formed among the workers of Christianity to +rebuild the temple at Jerusalem. Companionism (to coin a word) still +exists in France among the people. Its traditions, powerful over minds +that are not enlightened, and over men not educated enough to cast +aside an oath, might serve the ends of formidable enterprises if some +rough-hewn genius were to seize hold of these diverse associations. +All the instruments of this Companionism are well-nigh blind. From +town to town there has existed from time immemorial, for the use of +Companions, an "Obade,"--a sort of halting-place, kept by a "Mother," +an old woman, half-gypsy, with nothing to lose, knowing everything +that happens in her neighborhood, and devoted, either from fear or +habit, to the tribe, whose straggling members she feeds and lodges. +This people, ever moving and changing, though controlled by immutable +customs, has its eyes everywhere, executes, without judging it, a +WILL,--for the oldest Companion still belongs to an era when men had +faith. Moreover, the whole body professes doctrines that are +sufficiently true and sufficiently mysterious to electrify into a sort +of tribal loyalty all adepts whenever they obtain even a slight +development. The attachment of the Companions to their laws is so +passionate that the diverse tribes will fight sanguinary battles with +each other in defence of some question of principle. + +Happily for our present public safety, when a Devorant is ambitious, +he builds houses, lays by his money, and leaves the Order. There is +many a curious thing to tell about the "Compagnons du Devoir" +[Companions of the Duty], the rivals of the Devorants, and about the +different sects of working-men, their usages, their fraternity, and +the bond existing between them and the free-masons. But such details +would be out of place here. The author must, however, add that under +the old monarchy it was not an unknown thing to find a "Trempe-la- +Soupe" enslaved to the king sentenced for a hundred and one years to +the galleys, but ruling his tribe from there, religiously consulted by +it, and when he escaped from his galley, certain of help, succor, and +respect, wherever he might be. To see its grand master at the galleys +is, to the faithful tribe, only one of those misfortunes for which +providence is responsible, and which does not release the Devorants +from obeying a power created by them to be above them. It is but the +passing exile of their legitimate king, always a king for them. Thus +we see the romantic prestige attaching to the name of Ferragus and to +that of the Devorants completely dissipated. + +As for the THIRTEEN, they were all men of the stamp of Trelawney, Lord +Byron's friend, who was, they say, the original of his "Corsair." They +were all fatalists, men of nerve and poesy, weary of leading flat and +empty lives, driven toward Asiatic enjoyments by forces all the more +excessive because, long dormant, they awoke furious. One of them, +after re-reading "Venice Preserved," and admiring the sublime union of +Pierre and Jaffier, began to reflect on the virtues shown by men who +are outlawed by society, on the honesty of galley-slaves, the +faithfulness of thieves among each other, the privileges of exorbitant +power which such men know how to win by concentrating all ideas into a +single will. He saw that Man is greater than men. He concluded that +society ought to belong wholly to those distinguished beings who, to +natural intelligence, acquired wisdom, and fortune, add a fanaticism +hot enough to fuse into one casting these different forces. That done, +their occult power, vast in action and in intensity, against which the +social order would be helpless, would cast down all obstacles, blast +all other wills, and give to each the devilish power of all. This +world apart within the world, hostile to the world, admitting none of +the world's ideas, not recognizing any law, not submitting to any +conscience but that of necessity, obedient to a devotion only, acting +with every faculty for a single associate when one of their number +asked for the assistance of all,--this life of filibusters in lemon +kid gloves and cabriolets; this intimate union of superior beings, +cold and sarcastic, smiling and cursing in the midst of a false and +puerile society; this certainty of forcing all things to serve an end, +of plotting a vengeance that could not fail of living in thirteen +hearts; this happiness of nurturing a secret hatred in the face of +men, and of being always in arms against this; this ability to +withdraw to the sanctuary of self with one idea more than even the +most remarkable of men could have,--this religion of pleasure and +egotism cast so strong a spell over Thirteen men that they revived the +society of Jesuits to the profit of the devil. + +It was horrible and stupendous; but the compact was made, and it +lasted precisely because it appeared to be so impossible. + +There was, therefore, in Paris a brotherhood of THIRTEEN, who belonged +to each other absolutely, but ignored themselves as absolutely before +the world. At night they met, like conspirators, hiding no thought, +disposing each and all of a common fortune, like that of the Old Man +of the Mountain; having their feet in all salons, their hands in all +money-boxes, and making all things serve their purpose or their fancy +without scruple. No chief commanded them; no one member could arrogate +to himself that power. The most eager passion, the most exacting +circumstance, alone had the right to pass first. They were Thirteen +unknown kings,--but true kings, more than ordinary kings and judges +and executioners,--men who, having made themselves wings to roam +through society from depth to height, disdained to be anything in the +social sphere because they could be all. If the present writer ever +learns the reasons of their abdication of this power, he will take +occasion to tell them.[*] + +[*] See Theophile Gautier's account of the society of the "Cheval + Rouge." Memoir of Balzac. Roberts Brothers, Boston. + +Now, with this brief explanation, he may be allowed to begin the tale +of certain episodes in the history of the THIRTEEN, which have more +particularly attracted him by the Parisian flavor of their details and +the whimsicality of their contrasts. + + + + + +FERRAGUS, +CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + + + +CHAPTER I + +MADAME JULES + +Certain streets in Paris are as degraded as a man covered with infamy; +also, there are noble streets, streets simply respectable, young +streets on the morality of which the public has not yet formed an +opinion; also cut-throat streets, streets older than the age of the +oldest dowagers, estimable streets, streets always clean, streets +always dirty, working, laboring, and mercantile streets. In short, the +streets of Paris have every human quality, and impress us, by what we +must call their physiognomy, with certain ideas against which we are +defenceless. There are, for instance, streets of a bad neighborhood in +which you could not be induced to live, and streets where you would +willingly take up your abode. Some streets, like the rue Montmartre, +have a charming head, and end in a fish's tail. The rue de la Paix is +a wide street, a fine street, yet it wakens none of those gracefully +noble thoughts which come to an impressible mind in the middle of the +rue Royale, and it certainly lacks the majesty which reigns in the +Place Vendome. + +If you walk the streets of the Ile Saint-Louis, do not seek the reason +of the nervous sadness that lays hold upon you save in the solitude of +the spot, the gloomy look of the houses, and the great deserted +mansions. This island, the ghost of /fermiers-generaux/, is the Venice +of Paris. The Place de la Bourse is voluble, busy, degraded; it is +never fine except by moonlight at two in the morning. By day it is +Paris epitomized; by night it is a dream of Greece. The rue +Traversiere-Saint-Honore--is not that a villainous street? Look at the +wretched little houses with two windows on a floor, where vice, crime, +and misery abound. The narrow streets exposed to the north, where the +sun never comes more than three or four times a year, are the +cut-throat streets which murder with impunity; the authorities of the +present day do not meddle with them; but in former times the +Parliament might perhaps have summoned the lieutenant of police and +reprimanded him for the state of things; and it would, at least, have +issued some decree against such streets, as it once did against the +wigs of the Chapter of Beauvais. And yet Monsieur Benoiston de +Chateauneuf has proved that the mortality of these streets is double +that of others! To sum up such theories by a single example: is not +the rue Fromentin both murderous and profligate! + +These observations, incomprehensible out of Paris, will doubtless be +understood by musing men of thought and poesy and pleasure, who know, +while rambling about Paris, how to harvest the mass of floating +interests which may be gathered at all hours within her walls; to them +Paris is the most delightful and varied of monsters: here, a pretty +woman; farther on, a haggard pauper; here, new as the coinage of a new +reign; there, in this corner, elegant as a fashionable woman. A +monster, moreover, complete! Its garrets, as it were, a head full of +knowledge and genius; its first storeys stomachs repleted; its shops, +actual feet, where the busy ambulating crowds are moving. Ah! what an +ever-active life the monster leads! Hardly has the last vibration of +the last carriage coming from a ball ceased at its heart before its +arms are moving at the barriers and it shakes itself slowly into +motion. Doors open; turning on their hinges like the membrane of some +huge lobster, invisibly manipulated by thirty thousand men or women, +of whom each individual occupies a space of six square feet, but has a +kitchen, a workshop, a bed, children, a garden, little light to see +by, but must see all. Imperceptibly, the articulations begin to crack; +motion communicates itself; the street speaks. By mid-day, all is +alive; the chimneys smoke, the monster eats; then he roars, and his +thousand paws begin to ramp. Splendid spectacle! But, O Paris! he who +has not admired your gloomy passages, your gleams and flashes of +light, your deep and silent /cul-de-sacs/, who has not listened to +your murmurings between midnight and two in the morning, knows nothing +as yet of your true poesy, nor of your broad and fantastic contrasts. + +There are a few amateurs who never go their way heedlessly; who savor +their Paris, so to speak; who know its physiognomy so well that they +see every wart, and pimple, and redness. To others, Paris is always +that monstrous marvel, that amazing assemblage of activities, of +schemes, of thoughts; the city of a hundred thousand tales, the head +of the universe. But to those few, Paris is sad or gay, ugly or +beautiful, living or dead; to them Paris is a creature; every man, +every fraction of a house is a lobe of the cellular tissue of that +great courtesan whose head and heart and fantastic customs they know +so well. These men are lovers of Paris; they lift their noses at such +or such a corner of a street, certain that they can see the face of a +clock; they tell a friend whose tobacco-pouch is empty, "Go down that +passage and turn to the left; there's a tobacconist next door to a +confectioner, where there's a pretty girl." Rambling about Paris is, +to these poets, a costly luxury. How can they help spending precious +minutes before the dramas, disasters, faces, and picturesque events +which meet us everywhere amid this heaving queen of cities, clothed in +posters,--who has, nevertheless, not a single clean corner, so +complying is she to the vices of the French nation! Who has not +chanced to leave his home early in the morning, intending to go to +some extremity of Paris, and found himself unable to get away from the +centre of it by the dinner-hour? Such a man will know how to excuse +this vagabondizing start upon our tale; which, however, we here sum up +in an observation both useful and novel, as far as any observation can +be novel in Paris, where there is nothing new,--not even the statue +erected yesterday, on which some young gamin has already scribbled his +name. + +Well, then! there are streets, or ends of streets, there are houses, +unknown for the most part to persons of social distinction, to which a +woman of that class cannot go without causing cruel and very wounding +things to be thought of her. Whether the woman be rich and has a +carriage, whether she is on foot, or is disguised, if she enters one +of these Parisian defiles at any hour of the day, she compromises her +reputation as a virtuous woman. If, by chance, she is there at nine in +the evening the conjectures that an observer permits himself to make +upon her may prove fearful in their consequences. But if the woman is +young and pretty, if she enters a house in one of those streets, if +the house has a long, dark, damp, and evil-smelling passage-way, at +the end of which flickers the pallid gleam of an oil lamp, and if +beneath that gleam appears the horrid face of a withered old woman +with fleshless fingers, ah, then! and we say it in the interests of +young and pretty women, that woman is lost. She is at the mercy of the +first man of her acquaintance who sees her in that Parisian slough. +There is more than one street in Paris where such a meeting may lead +to a frightful drama, a bloody drama of death and love, a drama of the +modern school. + +Unhappily, this scene, this modern drama itself, will be comprehended +by only a small number of persons; and it is a pity to tell the tale +to a public which cannot enter into its local merit. But who can +flatter himself that he will ever be understood? We all die unknown-- +'tis the saying of women and of authors. + +At half-past eight o'clock one evening, in the rue Pagevin, in the +days when that street had no wall which did not echo some infamous +word, and was, in the direction of the rue Soly, the narrowest and +most impassable street in Paris (not excepting the least frequented +corner of the most deserted street),--at the beginning of the month of +February about thirteen years ago, a young man, by one of those +chances which come but once in life, turned the corner of the rue +Pagevin to enter the rue des Vieux-Augustins, close to the rue Soly. +There, this young man, who lived himself in the rue de Bourbon, saw in +a woman near whom he had been unconsciously walking, a vague +resemblance to the prettiest woman in Paris; a chaste and delightful +person, with whom he was secretly and passionately in love,--a love +without hope; she was married. In a moment his heart leaped, an +intolerable heat surged from his centre and flowed through all his +veins; his back turned cold, the skin of his head crept. He loved, he +was young, he knew Paris; and his knowledge did not permit him to be +ignorant of all there was of possible infamy in an elegant, rich, +young, and beautiful woman walking there, alone, with a furtively +criminal step. /She/ in that mud! at that hour! + +The love that this young man felt for that woman may seem romantic, +and all the more so because he was an officer in the Royal Guard. If +he had been in the infantry, the affair might have seemed more likely; +but, as an officer of rank in the cavalry, he belonged to that French +arm which demands rapidity in its conquests and derives as much vanity +from its amorous exploits as from its dashing uniform. But the passion +of this officer was a true love, and many young hearts will think it +noble. He loved this woman because she was virtuous; he loved her +virtue, her modest grace, her imposing saintliness, as the dearest +treasures of his hidden passion. This woman was indeed worthy to +inspire one of those platonic loves which are found, like flowers amid +bloody ruins, in the history of the middle-ages; worthy to be the +hidden principle of all the actions of a young man's life; a love as +high, as pure as the skies when blue; a love without hope and to which +men bind themselves because it can never deceive; a love that is +prodigal of unchecked enjoyment, especially at an age when the heart +is ardent, the imagination keen, and the eyes of a man see very +clearly. + +Strange, weird, inconceivable effects may be met with at night in +Paris. Only those who have amused themselves by watching those effects +have any idea how fantastic a woman may appear there at dusk. At times +the creature whom you are following, by accident or design, seems to +you light and slender; the stockings, if they are white, make you +fancy that the legs must be slim and elegant; the figure though +wrapped in a shawl, or concealed by a pelisse, defines itself +gracefully and seductively among the shadows; anon, the uncertain +gleam thrown from a shop-window or a street lamp bestows a fleeting +lustre, nearly always deceptive, on the unknown woman, and fires the +imagination, carrying it far beyond the truth. The senses then bestir +themselves; everything takes color and animation; the woman appears in +an altogether novel aspect; her person becomes beautiful. Behold! she +is not a woman, she is a demon, a siren, who is drawing you by +magnetic attraction to some respectable house, where the worthy +/bourgeoise/, frightened by your threatening step and the clack of +your boots, shuts the door in your face without looking at you. + +A vacillating gleam, thrown from the shop-window of a shoemaker, +suddenly illuminated from the waist down the figure of the woman who +was before the young man. Ah! surely, /she/ alone had that swaying +figure; she alone knew the secret of that chaste gait which innocently +set into relief the many beauties of that attractive form. Yes, that +was the shawl, and that the velvet bonnet which she wore in the +mornings. On her gray silk stockings not a spot, on her shoes not a +splash. The shawl held tightly round the bust disclosed, vaguely, its +charming lines; and the young man, who had often seen those shoulders +at a ball, knew well the treasures that the shawl concealed. By the +way a Parisian woman wraps a shawl around her, and the way she lifts +her feet in the street, a man of intelligence in such studies can +divine the secret of her mysterious errand. There is something, I know +not what, of quivering buoyancy in the person, in the gait; the woman +seems to weigh less; she steps, or rather, she glides like a star, and +floats onward led by a thought which exhales from the folds and motion +of her dress. The young man hastened his step, passed the woman, and +then turned back to look at her. Pst! she had disappeared into a +passage-way, the grated door of which and its bell still rattled and +sounded. The young man walked back to the alley and saw the woman +reach the farther end, where she began to mount--not without receiving +the obsequious bow of an old portress--a winding staircase, the lower +steps of which were strongly lighted; she went up buoyantly, eagerly, +as though impatient. + +"Impatient for what?" said the young man to himself, drawing back to +lean against a wooden railing on the other side of the street. He +gazed, unhappy man, at the different storeys of the house, with the +keen attention of a detective searching for a conspirator. + +It was one of those houses of which there are thousands in Paris, +ignoble, vulgar, narrow, yellowish in tone, with four storeys and +three windows on each floor. The outer blinds of the first floor were +closed. Where was she going? The young man fancied he heard the tinkle +of a bell on the second floor. As if in answer to it, a light began to +move in a room with two windows strongly illuminated, which presently +lit up the third window, evidently that of a first room, either the +salon or the dining-room of the apartment. Instantly the outline of a +woman's bonnet showed vaguely on the window, and a door between the +two rooms must have closed, for the first was dark again, while the +two other windows resumed their ruddy glow. At this moment a voice +said, "Hi, there!" and the young man was conscious of a blow on his +shoulder. + +"Why don't you pay attention?" said the rough voice of a workman, +carrying a plank on his shoulder. The man passed on. He was the voice +of Providence saying to the watcher: "What are you meddling with? +Think of your own duty; and leave these Parisians to their own +affairs." + +The young man crossed his arms; then, as no one beheld him, he +suffered tears of rage to flow down his cheeks unchecked. At last the +sight of the shadows moving behind the lighted windows gave him such +pain that he looked elsewhere and noticed a hackney-coach, standing +against a wall in the upper part of the rue des Vieux-Augustins, at a +place where there was neither the door of a house, nor the light of a +shop-window. + +Was it she? Was it not she? Life or death to a lover! This lover +waited. He stood there during a century of twenty minutes. After that +the woman came down, and he then recognized her as the one whom he +secretly loved. Nevertheless, he wanted still to doubt. She went to +the hackney-coach, and got into it. + +"The house will always be there and I can search it later," thought +the young man, following the carriage at a run, to solve his last +doubts; and soon he did so. + +The carriage stopped in the rue de Richelieu before a shop for +artificial flowers, close to the rue de Menars. The lady got out, +entered the shop, sent out the money to pay the coachman, and +presently left the shop herself, on foot, after buying a bunch of +marabouts. Marabouts for her black hair! The officer beheld her, +through the window-panes, placing the feathers to her head to see the +effect, and he fancied he could hear the conversation between herself +and the shop-woman. + +"Oh! madame, nothing is more suitable for brunettes: brunettes have +something a little too strongly marked in their lines, and marabouts +give them just that /flow/ which they lack. Madame la Duchesse de +Langeais says they give a woman something vague, Ossianic, and very +high-bred." + +"Very good; send them to me at once." + +Then the lady turned quickly toward the rue de Menars, and entered her +own house. When the door closed on her, the young lover, having lost +his hopes, and worse, far worse, his dearest beliefs, walked through +the streets like a drunken man, and presently found himself in his own +room without knowing how he came there. He flung himself into an arm- +chair, put his head in his hands and his feet on the andirons, drying +his boots until he burned them. It was an awful moment,--one of those +moments in human life when the character is moulded, and the future +conduct of the best of men depends on the good or evil fortune of his +first action. Providence or fatality?--choose which you will. + +This young man belonged to a good family, whose nobility was not very +ancient; but there are so few really old families in these days, that +all men of rank are ancient without dispute. His grandfather had +bought the office of counsellor to the Parliament of Paris, where he +afterwards became president. His sons, each provided with a handsome +fortune, entered the army, and through their marriages became attached +to the court. The Revolution swept the family away; but one old +dowager, too obstinate to emigrate, was left; she was put in prison, +threatened with death, but was saved by the 9th Thermidor and +recovered her property. When the proper time came, about the year +1804, she recalled her grandson to France. Auguste de Maulincour, the +only scion of the Carbonnon de Maulincour, was brought up by the good +dowager with the triple care of a mother, a woman of rank, and an +obstinate dowager. When the Restoration came, the young man, then +eighteen years of age, entered the Maison-Rouge, followed the princes +to Ghent, was made an officer in the body-guard, left it to serve in +the line, but was recalled later to the Royal Guard, where, at twenty- +three years of age, he found himself major of a cavalry regiment,--a +splendid position, due to his grandmother, who had played her cards +well to obtain it, in spite of his youth. This double biography is a +compendium of the general and special history, barring variations, of +all the noble families who emigrated having debts and property, +dowagers and tact. + +Madame la Baronne de Maulincour had a friend in the old Vidame de +Pamiers, formerly a commander of the Knights of Malta. This was one of +those undying friendships founded on sexagenary ties which nothing can +weaken, because at the bottom of such intimacies there are certain +secrets of the human heart, delightful to guess at when we have the +time, insipid to explain in twenty words, and which might make the +text of a work in four volumes as amusing as the Doyen de Killerine,-- +a work about which young men talk and judge without having read it. + +Auguste de Maulincour belonged therefore to the faubourg Saint-Germain +through his grandmother and the vidame, and it sufficed him to date +back two centuries to take the tone and opinions of those who assume +to go back to Clovis. This young man, pale, slender, and delicate in +appearance, a man of honor and true courage, who would fight a duel +for a yes or a no, had never yet fought upon a battle-field, though he +wore in his button-hole the cross of the Legion of honor. He was, as +you perceive, one of the blunders of the Restoration, perhaps the most +excusable of them. The youth of those days was the youth of no epoch. +It came between the memories of the Empire and those of the +Emigration, between the old traditions of the court and the +conscientious education of the /bourgeoisie/; between religion and +fancy-balls; between two political faiths, between Louis XVIII., who +saw only the present, and Charles X., who looked too far into the +future; it was moreover bound to accept the will of the king, though +the king was deceiving and tricking it. This unfortunate youth, blind +and yet clear-sighted, was counted as nothing by old men jealously +keeping the reins of the State in their feeble hands, while the +monarchy could have been saved by their retirement and the accession +of this Young France, which the old doctrinaires, the /emigres/ of the +Restoration, still speak of slightingly. Auguste de Maulincour was a +victim to the ideas which weighed in those days upon French youth, and +we must here explain why. + +The Vidame de Pamiers was still, at sixty-seven years of age, a very +brilliant man, having seen much and lived much; a good talker, a man +of honor and a gallant man, but who held as to women the most +detestable opinions; he loved them, and he despised them. /Their/ +honor! /their/ feelings! Ta-ra-ra, rubbish and shams! When he was with +them, he believed in them, the ci-devant "monstre"; he never +contradicted them, and he made them shine. But among his male friends, +when the topic of the sex came up, he laid down the principle that to +deceive women, and to carry on several intrigues at once, should be +the occupation of those young men who were so misguided as to wish to +meddle in the affairs of the State. It is sad to have to sketch so +hackneyed a portrait, for has it not figured everywhere and become, +literally, as threadbare as that of a grenadier of the Empire? But the +vidame had an influence on Monsieur de Maulincour's destiny which +obliges us to preserve his portrait; he lectured the young man after +his fashion, and did his best to convert him to the doctrines of the +great age of gallantry. + +The dowager, a tender-hearted, pious woman, sitting between God and +her vidame, a model of grace and sweetness, but gifted with that +well-bred persistency which triumphs in the long run, had longed to +preserve for her grandson the beautiful illusions of life, and had +therefore brought him up in the highest principles; she instilled into +him her own delicacy of feeling and made him, to outward appearance, a +timid man, if not a fool. The sensibilities of the young fellow, +preserved pure, were not worn by contact without; he remained so +chaste, so scrupulous, that he was keenly offended by actions and +maxims to which the world attached no consequence. Ashamed of this +susceptibility, he forced himself to conceal it under a false +hardihood; but he suffered in secret, all the while scoffing with +others at the things he reverenced. + +It came to pass that he was deceived; because, in accordance with a +not uncommon whim of destiny, he, a man of gentle melancholy, and +spiritual in love, encountered in the object of his first passion a +woman who held in horror all German sentimentalism. The young man, in +consequence, distrusted himself, became dreamy, absorbed in his +griefs, complaining of not being understood. Then, as we desire all +the more violently the things we find difficult to obtain, he +continued to adore women with that ingenuous tenderness and feline +delicacy the secret of which belongs to women themselves, who may, +perhaps, prefer to keep the monopoly of it. In point of fact, though +women of the world complain of the way men love them, they have little +liking themselves for those whose soul is half feminine. Their own +superiority consists in making men believe they are their inferiors in +love; therefore they will readily leave a lover if he is inexperienced +enough to rob them of those fears with which they seek to deck +themselves, those delightful tortures of feigned jealousy, those +troubles of hope betrayed, those futile expectations,--in short, the +whole procession of their feminine miseries. They hold Sir Charles +Grandison in horror. What can be more contrary to their nature than a +tranquil, perfect love? They want emotions; happiness without storms +is not happiness to them. Women with souls that are strong enough to +bring infinitude into love are angelic exceptions; they are among +women what noble geniuses are among men. Their great passions are rare +as masterpieces. Below the level of such love come compromises, +conventions, passing and contemptible irritations, as in all things +petty and perishable. + +Amid the hidden disasters of his heart, and while he was still seeking +the woman who could comprehend him (a search which, let us remark in +passing, is one of the amorous follies of our epoch), Auguste met, in +the rank of society that was farthest from his own, in the secondary +sphere of money, where banking holds the first place, a perfect being, +one of those women who have I know not what about them that is saintly +and sacred,--women who inspire such reverence that love has need of +the help of a long familiarity to declare itself. + +Auguste then gave himself up wholly to the delights of the deepest and +most moving of passions, to a love that was purely adoring. +Innumerable repressed desires there were, shadows of passion so vague +yet so profound, so fugitive and yet so actual, that one scarcely +knows to what we may compare them. They are like perfumes, or clouds, +or rays of the sun, or shadows, or whatever there is in nature that +shines for a moment and disappears, that springs to life and dies, +leaving in the heart long echoes of emotion. When the soul is young +enough to nurture melancholy and far-off hope, to find in woman more +than a woman, is it not the greatest happiness that can befall a man +when he loves enough to feel more joy in touching a gloved hand, or a +lock of hair, in listening to a word, in casting a single look, than +in all the ardor of possession given by happy love? Thus it is that +rejected persons, those rebuffed by fate, the ugly and unfortunate, +lovers unrevealed, women and timid men, alone know the treasures +contained in the voice of the beloved. Taking their source and their +element from the soul itself, the vibrations of the air, charged with +passion, put our hearts so powerfully into communion, carrying thought +between them so lucidly, and being, above all, so incapable of +falsehood, that a single inflection of a voice is often a revelation. +What enchantments the intonations of a tender voice can bestow upon +the heart of a poet! What ideas they awaken! What freshness they shed +there! Love is in the voice before the glance avows it. Auguste, poet +after the manner of lovers (there are poets who feel, and poets who +express; the first are the happiest), Auguste had tasted all these +early joys, so vast, so fecund. SHE possessed the most winning organ +that the most artful woman of the world could have desired in order to +deceive at her ease; /she/ had that silvery voice which is soft to the +ear, and ringing only for the heart which it stirs and troubles, +caresses and subjugates. + +And this woman went by night to the rue Soly through the rue Pagevin! +and her furtive apparition in an infamous house had just destroyed the +grandest of passions! The vidame's logic triumphed. + +"If she is betraying her husband we will avenge ourselves," said +Auguste. + +There was still faith in that "if." The philosophic doubt of Descartes +is a politeness with which we should always honor virtue. Ten o'clock +sounded. The Baron de Maulincour remembered that this woman was going +to a ball that evening at a house to which he had access. He dressed, +went there, and searched for her through all the salons. The mistress +of the house, Madame de Nucingen, seeing him thus occupied, said:-- + +"You are looking for Madame Jules; but she has not yet come." + +"Good evening, dear," said a voice. + +Auguste and Madame de Nucingen turned round. Madame Jules had arrived, +dressed in white, looking simple and noble, wearing in her hair the +marabouts the young baron had seen her choose in the flower-shop. That +voice of love now pierced his heart. Had he won the slightest right to +be jealous of her he would have petrified her then and there by saying +the words, "Rue Soly!" But if he, an alien to her life, had said those +words in her ear a thousand times, Madame Jules would have asked him +in astonishment what he meant. He looked at her stupidly. + +For those sarcastic persons who scoff at all things it may be a great +amusement to detect the secret of a woman, to know that her chastity +is a lie, that her calm face hides some anxious thought, that under +that pure brow is a dreadful drama. But there are other souls to whom +the sight is saddening; and many of those who laugh in public, when +withdrawn into themselves and alone with their conscience, curse the +world while they despise the woman. Such was the case with Auguste de +Maulincour, as he stood there in presence of Madame Jules. Singular +situation! There was no other relation between them than that which +social life establishes between persons who exchange a few words seven +or eight times in the course of a winter, and yet he was calling her +to account on behalf of a happiness unknown to her; he was judging +her, without letting her know of his accusation. + +Many young men find themselves thus in despair at having broken +forever with a woman adored in secret, condemned and despised in +secret. There are many hidden monologues told to the walls of some +solitary lodging; storms roused and calmed without ever leaving the +depths of hearts; amazing scenes of the moral world, for which a +painter is wanted. Madame Jules sat down, leaving her husband to make +a turn around the salon. After she was seated she seemed uneasy, and, +while talking with her neighbor, she kept a furtive eye on Monsieur +Jules Desmarets, her husband, a broker chiefly employed by the Baron +de Nucingen. The following is the history of their home life. + +Monsieur Desmarets was, five years before his marriage, in a broker's +office, with no other means than the meagre salary of a clerk. But he +was a man to whom misfortune had early taught the truths of life, and +he followed the strait path with the tenacity of an insect making for +its nest; he was one of those dogged young men who feign death before +an obstacle and wear out everybody's patience with their own beetle- +like perseverance. Thus, young as he was, he had all the republican +virtue of poor peoples; he was sober, saving of his time, an enemy to +pleasure. He waited. Nature had given him the immense advantage of an +agreeable exterior. His calm, pure brow, the shape of his placid, but +expressive face, his simple manners,--all revealed in him a laborious +and resigned existence, that lofty personal dignity which is imposing +to others, and the secret nobility of heart which can meet all events. +His modesty inspired a sort of respect in those who knew him. Solitary +in the midst of Paris, he knew the social world only by glimpses +during the brief moments which he spent in his patron's salon on +holidays. + +There were passions in this young man, as in most of the men who live +in that way, of amazing profundity,--passions too vast to be drawn +into petty incidents. His want of means compelled him to lead an +ascetic life, and he conquered his fancies by hard work. After paling +all day over figures, he found his recreation in striving obstinately +to acquire that wide general knowledge so necessary in these days to +every man who wants to make his mark, whether in society, or in +commerce, at the bar, or in politics or literature. The only peril +these fine souls have to fear comes from their own uprightness. They +see some poor girl; they love her; they marry her, and wear out their +lives in a struggle between poverty and love. The noblest ambition is +quenched perforce by the household account-book. Jules Desmarets went +headlong into this peril. + +He met one evening at his patron's house a girl of the rarest beauty. +Unfortunate men who are deprived of affection, and who consume the +finest hours of youth in work and study, alone know the rapid ravages +that passion makes in their lonely, misconceived hearts. They are so +certain of loving truly, all their forces are concentrated so quickly +on the object of their love, that they receive, while beside her, the +most delightful sensations, when, as often happens, they inspire none +at all. Nothing is more flattering to a woman's egotism than to divine +this passion, apparently immovable, and these emotions so deep that +they have needed a great length of time to reach the human surface. +These poor men, anchorites in the midst of Paris, have all the +enjoyments of anchorites; and may sometimes succumb to temptations. +But, more often deceived, betrayed, and misunderstood, they are rarely +able to gather the sweet fruits of a love which, to them, is like a +flower dropped from heaven. + +One smile from his wife, a single inflection of her voice sufficed to +make Jules Desmarets conceive a passion which was boundless. Happily, +the concentrated fire of that secret passion revealed itself artlessly +to the woman who inspired it. These two beings then loved each other +religiously. To express all in a word, they clasped hands without +shame before the eyes of the world and went their way like two +children, brother and sister, passing serenely through a crowd where +all made way for them and admired them. + +The young girl was in one of those unfortunate positions which human +selfishness entails upon children. She had no civil status; her name +of "Clemence" and her age were recorded only by a notary public. As +for her fortune, that was small indeed. Jules Desmarets was a happy +man on hearing these particulars. If Clemence had belonged to an +opulent family, he might have despaired of obtaining her; but she was +only the poor child of love, the fruit of some terrible adulterous +passion; and they were married. Then began for Jules Desmarets a +series of fortunate events. Every one envied his happiness; and +henceforth talked only of his luck, without recalling either his +virtues or his courage. + +Some days after their marriage, the mother of Clemence, who passed in +society for her godmother, told Jules Desmarets to buy the office and +good-will of a broker, promising to provide him with the necessary +capital. In those days, such offices could still be bought at a modest +price. That evening, in the salon as it happened of his patron, a +wealthy capitalist proposed, on the recommendation of the mother, a +very advantageous transaction for Jules Desmarets, and the next day +the happy clerk was able to buy out his patron. In four years +Desmarets became one of the most prosperous men in his business; new +clients increased the number his predecessor had left to him; he +inspired confidence in all; and it was impossible for him not to feel, +by the way business came to him, that some hidden influence, due to +his mother-in-law, or to Providence, was secretly protecting him. + +At the end of the third year Clemence lost her godmother. By that time +Monsieur Jules (so called to distinguish him from an elder brother, +whom he had set up as a notary in Paris) possessed an income from +invested property of two hundred thousand francs. There was not in all +Paris another instance of the domestic happiness enjoyed by this +couple. For five years their exceptional love had been troubled by +only one event,--a calumny for which Monsieur Jules exacted vengeance. +One of his former comrades attributed to Madame Jules the fortune of +her husband, explaining that it came from a high protection dearly +paid for. The man who uttered the calumny was killed in the duel that +followed it. + +The profound passion of this couple, which survived marriage, obtained +a great success in society, though some women were annoyed by it. The +charming household was respected; everybody feted it. Monsieur and +Madame Jules were sincerely liked, perhaps because there is nothing +more delightful to see than happy people; but they never stayed long +at any festivity. They slipped away early, as impatient to regain +their nest as wandering pigeons. This nest was a large and beautiful +mansion in the rue de Menars, where a true feeling for art tempered +the luxury which the financial world continues, traditionally, to +display. Here the happy pair received their society magnificently, +although the obligations of social life suited them but little. + +Nevertheless, Jules submitted to the demands of the world, knowing +that, sooner or later, a family has need of it; but he and his wife +felt themselves, in its midst, like green-house plants in a tempest. +With a delicacy that was very natural, Jules had concealed from his +wife the calumny and the death of the calumniator. Madame Jules, +herself, was inclined, through her sensitive and artistic nature, to +desire luxury. In spite of the terrible lesson of the duel, some +imprudent women whispered to each other that Madame Jules must +sometimes be pressed for money. They often found her more elegantly +dressed in her own home than when she went into society. She loved to +adorn herself to please her husband, wishing to show him that to her +he was more than any social life. A true love, a pure love, above all, +a happy love! Jules, always a lover, and more in love as time went by, +was happy in all things beside his wife, even in her caprices; in +fact, he would have been uneasy if she had none, thinking it a symptom +of some illness. + +Auguste de Maulincour had the personal misfortune of running against +this passion, and falling in love with the wife beyond recovery. +Nevertheless, though he carried in his heart so intense a love, he was +not ridiculous; he complied with all the demands of society, and of +military manners and customs. And yet his face wore constantly, even +though he might be drinking a glass of champagne, that dreamy look, +that air of silently despising life, that nebulous expression which +belongs, though for other reasons, to /blases/ men,--men dissatisfied +with hollow lives. To love without hope, to be disgusted with life, +constitute, in these days, a social position. The enterprise of +winning the heart of a sovereign might give, perhaps, more hope than a +love rashly conceived for a happy woman. Therefore Maulincour had +sufficient reason to be grave and gloomy. A queen has the vanity of +her power; the height of her elevation protects her. But a pious +/bourgeoise/ is like a hedgehog, or an oyster, in its rough wrappings. + +At this moment the young officer was beside his unconscious mistress, +who certainly was unaware that she was doubly faithless. Madame Jules +was seated, in a naive attitude, like the least artful woman in +existence, soft and gentle, full of a majestic serenity. What an abyss +is human nature! Before beginning a conversation, the baron looked +alternately at the wife and at the husband. How many were the +reflections he made! He recomposed the "Night Thoughts" of Young in a +second. And yet the music was sounding through the salons, the light +was pouring from a thousand candles. It was a banker's ball,--one of +those insolent festivals by means of which the world of solid gold +endeavored to sneer at the gold-embossed salons where the faubourg +Saint-Germain met and laughed, not foreseeing the day when the bank +would invade the Luxembourg and take its seat upon the throne. The +conspirators were now dancing, indifferent to coming bankruptcies, +whether of Power or of the Bank. The gilded salons of the Baron de +Nucingen were gay with that peculiar animation that the world of +Paris, apparently joyous at any rate, gives to its fetes. There, men +of talent communicate their wit to fools, and fools communicate that +air of enjoyment that characterizes them. By means of this exchange +all is liveliness. But a ball in Paris always resembles fireworks to a +certain extent; wit, coquetry, and pleasure sparkle and go out like +rockets. The next day all present have forgotten their wit, their +coquetry, their pleasure. + +"Ah!" thought Auguste, by way of conclusion, "women are what the +vidame says they are. Certainly all those dancing here are less +irreproachable actually than Madame Jules appears to be, and yet +Madame Jules went to the rue Soly!" + +The rue Soly was like an illness to him; the very word shrivelled his +heart. + +"Madame, do you ever dance?" he said to her. + +"This is the third time you have asked me that question this winter," +she answered, smiling. + +"But perhaps you have never answered it." + +"That is true." + +"I knew very well that you were false, like other women." + +Madame Jules continued to smile. + +"Listen, monsieur," she said; "if I told you the real reason, you +would think it ridiculous. I do not think it false to abstain from +telling things that the world would laugh at." + +"All secrets demand, in order to be told, a friendship of which I am +no doubt unworthy, madame. But you cannot have any but noble secrets; +do you think me capable of jesting on noble things?" + +"Yes," she said, "you, like all the rest, laugh at our purest +sentiments; you calumniate them. Besides, I have no secrets. I have +the right to love my husband in the face of all the world, and I say +so,--I am proud of it; and if you laugh at me when I tell you that I +dance only with him, I shall have a bad opinion of your heart." + +"Have you never danced since your marriage with any one but your +husband?" + +"Never. His arm is the only one on which I have leaned; I have never +felt the touch of another man." + +"Has your physician never felt your pulse?" + +"Now you are laughing at me." + +"No, madame, I admire you, because I comprehend you. But you let a man +hear your voice, you let yourself be seen, you--in short, you permit +our eyes to admire you--" + +"Ah!" she said, interrupting him, "that is one of my griefs. Yes, I +wish it were possible for a married woman to live secluded with her +husband, as a mistress lives with her lover, for then--" + +"Then why were you, two hours ago, on foot, disguised, in the rue +Soly?" + +"The rue Soly, where is that?" + +And her pure voice gave no sign of any emotion; no feature of her face +quivered; she did not blush; she remained calm. + +"What! you did not go up to the second floor of a house in the rue des +Vieux-Augustins at the corner of the rue Soly? You did not have a +hackney-coach waiting near by? You did not return in it to the flower- +shop in the rue Richelieu, where you bought the feathers that are now +in your hair?" + +"I did not leave my house this evening." + +As she uttered that lie she was smiling and imperturbable; she played +with her fan; but if any one had passed a hand down her back they +would, perhaps, have found it moist. At that instant Auguste +remembered the instructions of the vidame. + +"Then it was some one who strangely resembled you," he said, with a +credulous air. + +"Monsieur," she replied, "if you are capable of following a woman and +detecting her secrets, you will allow me to say that it is a wrong, a +very wrong thing, and I do you the honor to say that I disbelieve +you." + +The baron turned away, placed himself before the fireplace and seemed +thoughtful. He bent his head; but his eyes were covertly fixed on +Madame Jules, who, not remembering the reflections in the mirror, cast +two or three glances at him that were full of terror. Presently she +made a sign to her husband and rising took his arm to walk about the +salon. As she passed before Monsieur de Maulincour, who at that moment +was speaking to a friend, he said in a loud voice, as if in reply to a +remark: "That woman will certainly not sleep quietly this night." +Madame Jules stopped, gave him an imposing look which expressed +contempt, and continued her way, unaware that another look, if +surprised by her husband, might endanger not only her happiness but +the lives of two men. Auguste, frantic with anger, which he tried to +smother in the depths of his soul, presently left the house, swearing +to penetrate to the heart of the mystery. Before leaving, he sought +Madame Jules, to look at her again; but she had disappeared. + +What a drama cast into that young head so eminently romantic, like all +who have not known love in the wide extent which they give to it. He +adored Madame Jules under a new aspect; he loved her now with the fury +of jealousy and the frenzied anguish of hope. Unfaithful to her +husband, the woman became common. Auguste could now give himself up to +the joys of successful love, and his imagination opened to him a +career of pleasures. Yes, he had lost the angel, but he had found the +most delightful of demons. He went to bed, building castles in the +air, excusing Madame Jules by some romantic fiction in which he did +not believe. He resolved to devote himself wholly, from that day +forth, to a search for the causes, motives, and keynote of this +mystery. It was a tale to read, or better still, a drama to be played, +in which he had a part. + + + +CHAPTER II + +FERRAGUS + +A fine thing is the task of a spy, when performed for one's own +benefit and in the interests of a passion. Is it not giving ourselves +the pleasure of a thief and a rascal while continuing honest men? But +there is another side to it; we must resign ourselves to boil with +anger, to roar with impatience, to freeze our feet in the mud, to be +numbed, and roasted, and torn by false hopes. We must go, on the faith +of a mere indication, to a vague object, miss our end, curse our luck, +improvise to ourselves elegies, dithyrambics, exclaim idiotically +before inoffensive pedestrians who observe us, knock over old apple- +women and their baskets, run hither and thither, stand on guard +beneath a window, make a thousand suppositions. But, after all, it is +a chase, a hunt; a hunt in Paris, a hunt with all its chances, minus +dogs and guns and the tally-ho! Nothing compares with it but the life +of gamblers. But it needs a heart big with love and vengeance to +ambush itself in Paris, like a tiger waiting to spring upon its prey, +and to enjoy the chances and contingencies of Paris, by adding one +special interest to the many that abound there. But for this we need a +many-sided soul--for must we not live in a thousand passions, a +thousand sentiments? + +Auguste de Maulincour flung himself into this ardent existence +passionately, for he felt all its pleasures and all its misery. He +went disguised about Paris, watching at the corners of the rue Pagevin +and the rue des Vieux-Augustins. He hurried like a hunter from the rue +de Menars to the rue Soly, and back from the rue Soly to the rue de +Menars, without obtaining either the vengeance or the knowledge which +would punish or reward such cares, such efforts, such wiles. But he +had not yet reached that impatience which wrings our very entrails and +makes us sweat; he roamed in hope, believing that Madame Jules would +only refrain for a few days from revisiting the place where she knew +she had been detected. He devoted the first days therefore, to a +careful study of the secrets of the street. A novice at such work, he +dared not question either the porter or the shoemaker of the house to +which Madame Jules had gone; but he managed to obtain a post of +observation in a house directly opposite to the mysterious apartment. +He studied the ground, trying to reconcile the conflicting demands of +prudence, impatience, love, and secrecy. + +Early in the month of March, while busy with plans by which he +expected to strike a decisive blow, he left his post about four in the +afternoon, after one of those patient watches from which he had +learned nothing. He was on his way to his own house whither a matter +relating to his military service called him, when he was overtaken in +the rue Coquilliere by one of those heavy showers which instantly +flood the gutters, while each drop of rain rings loudly in the puddles +of the roadway. A pedestrian under these circumstances is forced to +stop short and take refuge in a shop or cafe if he is rich enough to +pay for the forced hospitality, or, if in poorer circumstances, under +a /porte-cochere/, that haven of paupers or shabbily dressed persons. +Why have none of our painters ever attempted to reproduce the +physiognomies of a swarm of Parisians, grouped, under stress of +weather, in the damp /porte-cochere/ of a building? First, there's the +musing philosophical pedestrian, who observes with interest all he +sees,--whether it be the stripes made by the rain on the gray +background of the atmosphere (a species of chasing not unlike the +capricious threads of spun glass), or the whirl of white water which +the wind is driving like a luminous dust along the roofs, or the +fitful disgorgements of the gutter-pipes, sparkling and foaming; in +short, the thousand nothings to be admired and studied with delight by +loungers, in spite of the porter's broom which pretends to be sweeping +out the gateway. Then there's the talkative refugee, who complains and +converses with the porter while he rests on his broom like a grenadier +on his musket; or the pauper wayfarer, curled against the wall +indifferent to the condition of his rags, long used, alas, to contact +with the streets; or the learned pedestrian who studies, spells, and +reads the posters on the walls without finishing them; or the smiling +pedestrian who makes fun of others to whom some street fatality has +happened, who laughs at the muddy women, and makes grimaces at those +of either sex who are looking from the windows; and the silent being +who gazes from floor to floor; and the working-man, armed with a +satchel or a paper bundle, who is estimating the rain as a profit or +loss; and the good-natured fugitive, who arrives like a shot +exclaiming, "Ah! what weather, messieurs, what weather!" and bows to +every one; and, finally, the true /bourgeois/ of Paris, with his +unfailing umbrella, an expert in showers, who foresaw this particular +one, but would come out in spite of his wife; this one takes a seat in +the porter's chair. According to individual character, each member of +this fortuitous society contemplates the skies, and departs, skipping +to avoid the mud,--because he is in a hurry, or because he sees other +citizens walking along in spite of wind and slush, or because, the +archway being damp and mortally catarrhal, the bed's edge, as the +proverb says, is better than the sheets. Each one has his motive. No +one is left but the prudent pedestrian, the man who, before he sets +forth, makes sure of a scrap of blue sky through the rifting clouds. + +Monsieur de Maulincour took refuge, as we have said, with a whole +family of fugitives, under the porch of an old house, the court-yard +of which looked like the flue of a chimney. The sides of its +plastered, nitrified, and mouldy walls were so covered with pipes and +conduits from all the many floors of its four elevations, that it +might have been said to resemble at that moment the /cascatelles/ of +Saint-Cloud. Water flowed everywhere; it boiled, it leaped, it +murmured; it was black, white, blue, and green; it shrieked, it +bubbled under the broom of the portress, a toothless old woman used to +storms, who seemed to bless them as she swept into the street a mass +of scraps an intelligent inventory of which would have revealed the +lives and habits of every dweller in the house,--bits of printed +cottons, tea-leaves, artificial flower-petals faded and worthless, +vegetable parings, papers, scraps of metal. At every sweep of her +broom the old woman bared the soul of the gutter, that black fissure +on which a porter's mind is ever bent. The poor lover examined this +scene, like a thousand others which our heaving Paris presents daily; +but he examined it mechanically, as a man absorbed in thought, when, +happening to look up, he found himself all but nose to nose with a man +who had just entered the gateway. + +In appearance this man was a beggar, but not the Parisian beggar,-- +that creation without a name in human language; no, this man formed +another type, while presenting on the outside all the ideas suggested +by the word "beggar." He was not marked by those original Parisian +characteristics which strike us so forcibly in the paupers whom +Charlet was fond of representing, with his rare luck in observation,-- +coarse faces reeking of mud, hoarse voices, reddened and bulbous +noses, mouths devoid of teeth but menacing; humble yet terrible +beings, in whom a profound intelligence shining in their eyes seems +like a contradiction. Some of these bold vagabonds have blotched, +cracked, veiny skins; their foreheads are covered with wrinkles, their +hair scanty and dirty, like a wig thrown on a dust-heap. All are gay +in their degradation, and degraded in their joys; all are marked with +the stamp of debauchery, casting their silence as a reproach; their +very attitude revealing fearful thoughts. Placed between crime and +beggary they have no compunctions, and circle prudently around the +scaffold without mounting it, innocent in the midst of crime, and +vicious in their innocence. They often cause a laugh, but they always +cause reflection. One represents to you civilization stunted, +repressed; he comprehends everything, the honor of the galleys, +patriotism, virtue, the malice of a vulgar crime, or the fine +astuteness of elegant wickedness. Another is resigned, a perfect +mimer, but stupid. All have slight yearnings after order and work, but +they are pushed back into their mire by society, which makes no +inquiry as to what there may be of great men, poets, intrepid souls, +and splendid organizations among these vagrants, these gypsies of +Paris; a people eminently good and eminently evil--like all the masses +who suffer--accustomed to endure unspeakable woes, and whom a fatal +power holds ever down to the level of the mire. They all have a dream, +a hope, a happiness,--cards, lottery, or wine. + +There was nothing of all this in the personage who now leaned +carelessly against the wall in front of Monsieur de Maulincour, like +some fantastic idea drawn by an artist on the back of a canvas the +front of which is turned to the wall. This tall, spare man, whose +leaden visage expressed some deep but chilling thought, dried up all +pity in the hearts of those who looked at him by the scowling look and +the sarcastic attitude which announced an intention of treating every +man as an equal. His face was of a dirty white, and his wrinkled +skull, denuded of hair, bore a vague resemblance to a block of +granite. A few gray locks on either side of his head fell straight to +the collar of his greasy coat, which was buttoned to the chin. He +resembled both Voltaire and Don Quixote; he was, apparently, scoffing +but melancholy, full of disdain and philosophy, but half-crazy. He +seemed to have no shirt. His beard was long. A rusty black cravat, +much worn and ragged, exposed a protuberant neck deeply furrowed, with +veins as thick as cords. A large brown circle like a bruise was +strongly marked beneath his eyes, He seemed to be at least sixty years +old. His hands were white and clean. His boots were trodden down at +the heels, and full of holes. A pair of blue trousers, mended in +various places, were covered with a species of fluff which made them +offensive to the eye. Whether it was that his damp clothes exhaled a +fetid odor, or that he had in his normal condition the "poor smell" +which belongs to Parisian tenements, just as offices, sacristies, and +hospitals have their own peculiar and rancid fetidness, of which no +words can give the least idea, or whether some other reason affected +them, those in the vicinity of this man immediately moved away and +left him alone. He cast upon them and also upon the officer a calm, +expressionless look, the celebrated look of Monsieur de Talleyrand, a +dull, wan glance, without warmth, a species of impenetrable veil, +beneath which a strong soul hides profound emotions and close +estimation of men and things and events. Not a fold of his face +quivered. His mouth and forehead were impassible; but his eyes moved +and lowered themselves with a noble, almost tragic slowness. There +was, in fact, a whole drama in the motion of those withered eyelids. + +The aspect of this stoical figure gave rise in Monsieur de Maulincour +to one of those vagabond reveries which begin with a common question +and end by comprising a world of thought. The storm was past. Monsieur +de Maulincour presently saw no more of the man than the tail of his +coat as it brushed the gate-post, but as he turned to leave his own +place he noticed at his feet a letter which must have fallen from the +unknown beggar when he took, as the baron had seen him take, a +handkerchief from his pocket. The young man picked it up, and read, +involuntarily, the address: "To Monsieur Ferragusse, Rue des Grands- +Augustains, corner of rue Soly." + +The letter bore no postmark, and the address prevented Monsieur de +Maulincour from following the beggar and returning it; for there are +few passions that will not fail in rectitude in the long run. The +baron had a presentiment of the opportunity afforded by this windfall. +He determined to keep the letter, which would give him the right to +enter the mysterious house to return it to the strange man, not +doubting that he lived there. Suspicions, vague as the first faint +gleams of daylight, made him fancy relations between this man and +Madame Jules. A jealous lover supposes everything; and it is by +supposing everything and selecting the most probable of their +conjectures that judges, spies, lovers, and observers get at the truth +they are looking for. + +"Is the letter for him? Is it from Madame Jules?" + +His restless imagination tossed a thousand such questions to him; but +when he read the first words of the letter he smiled. Here it is, +textually, in all the simplicity of its artless phrases and its +miserable orthography,--a letter to which it would be impossible to +add anything, or to take anything away, unless it were the letter +itself. But we have yielded to the necessity of punctuating it. In the +original there were neither commas nor stops of any kind, not even +notes of exclamation,--a fact which tends to undervalue the system of +notes and dashes by which modern authors have endeavored to depict the +great disasters of all the passions:-- + + Henry,--Among the manny sacrifisis I imposed upon myself for your + sake was that of not giving you anny news of me; but an + iresistible voise now compells me to let you know the wrong you + have done me. I know beforehand that your soul hardened in vise + will not pitty me. Your heart is deaf to feeling. Is it deaf to + the cries of nature? But what matter? I must tell you to what a + dredful point you are gilty, and the horror of the position to + which you have brought me. Henry, you knew what I sufered from my + first wrong-doing, and yet you plunged me into the same misery, + and then abbandoned me to my dispair and sufering. Yes, I will say + it, the belif I had that you loved me and esteemed me gave me + corage to bare my fate. But now, what have I left? Have you not + made me loose all that was dear to me, all that held me to life; + parents, frends, onor, reputation,--all, I have sacrifised all to + you, and nothing is left me but shame, oprobrum, and--I say this + without blushing--poverty. Nothing was wanting to my misfortunes + but the sertainty of your contempt and hatred; and now I have them + I find the corage that my project requires. My decision is made; + the onor of my famly commands it. I must put an end to my + suferins. Make no remarks upon my conduct, Henry; it is orful, I + know, but my condition obliges me. Without help, without suport, + without one frend to comfort me, can I live? No. Fate has desided + for me. So in two days, Henry, two days, Ida will have seased to + be worthy of your regard. Oh, Henry! oh, my frend! for I can never + change to you, promise me to forgive me for what I am going to do. + Do not forget that you have driven me to it; it is your work, and + you must judge it. May heven not punish you for all your crimes. I + ask your pardon on my knees, for I feel nothing is wanting to my + misery but the sorow of knowing you unhappy. In spite of the + poverty I am in I shall refuse all help from you. If you had loved + me I would have taken all from your friendship; but a benfit given + by pitty /my soul refussis/. I would be baser to take it than he + who offered it. I have one favor to ask of you. I don't know how + long I must stay at Madame Meynardie's; be genrous enough not to + come there. Your last two vissits did me a harm I cannot get ofer. + I cannot enter into particlers about that conduct of yours. You + hate me,--you said so; that word is writen on my heart, and + freeses it with fear. Alas! it is now, when I need all my corage, + all my strength, that my faculties abandon me. Henry, my frend, + before I put a barrier forever between us, give me a last pruf of + your esteem. Write me, answer me, say you respect me still, though + you have seased to love me. My eyes are worthy still to look into + yours, but I do not ask an interfew; I fear my weakness and my + love. But for pitty's sake write me a line at once; it will give + me the corage I need to meet my trubbles. Farewell, orther of all + my woes, but the only frend my heart has chosen and will never + forget. + +Ida. + + +This life of a young girl, with its love betrayed, its fatal joys, its +pangs, its miseries, and its horrible resignation, summed up in a few +words, this humble poem, essentially Parisian, written on dirty paper, +influenced for a passing moment Monsieur de Maulincour. He asked +himself whether this Ida might not be some poor relation of Madame +Jules, and that strange rendezvous, which he had witnessed by chance, +the mere necessity of a charitable effort. But could that old pauper +have seduced this Ida? There was something impossible in the very +idea. Wandering in this labyrinth of reflections, which crossed, +recrossed, and obliterated one another, the baron reached the rue +Pagevin, and saw a hackney-coach standing at the end of the rue des +Vieux-Augustins where it enters the rue Montmartre. All waiting +hackney-coaches now had an interest for him. + +"Can she be there?" he thought to himself, and his heart beat fast +with a hot and feverish throbbing. + +He pushed the little door with the bell, but he lowered his head as he +did so, obeying a sense of shame, for a voice said to him secretly:-- + +"Why are you putting your foot into this mystery?" + +He went up a few steps, and found himself face to face with the old +portress. + +"Monsieur Ferragus?" he said. + +"Don't know him." + +"Doesn't Monsieur Ferragus live here?" + +"Haven't such a name in the house." + +"But, my good woman--" + +"I'm not your good woman, monsieur, I'm the portress." + +"But, madame," persisted the baron, "I have a letter for Monsieur +Ferragus." + +"Ah! if monsieur has a letter," she said, changing her tone, "that's +another matter. Will you let me see it--that letter?" + +Auguste showed the folded letter. The old woman shook her head with a +doubtful air, hesitated, seemed to wish to leave the lodge and inform +the mysterious Ferragus of his unexpected visitor, but finally said:-- + +"Very good; go up, monsieur. I suppose you know the way?" + +Without replying to this remark, which he thought might be a trap, the +young officer ran lightly up the stairway, and rang loudly at the door +of the second floor. His lover's instinct told him, "She is there." + +The beggar of the porch, Ferragus, the "orther" of Ida's woes, opened +the door himself. He appeared in a flowered dressing-gown, white +flannel trousers, his feet in embroidered slippers, and his face +washed clean of stains. Madame Jules, whose head projected beyond the +casing of the door in the next room, turned pale and dropped into a +chair. + +"What is the matter, madame?" cried the officer, springing toward her. + +But Ferragus stretched forth an arm and flung the intruder back with +so sharp a thrust that Auguste fancied he had received a blow with an +iron bar full on his chest. + +"Back! monsieur," said the man. "What do you want there? For five or +six days you have been roaming about the neighborhood. Are you a spy?" + +"Are you Monsieur Ferragus?" said the baron. + +"No, monsieur." + +"Nevertheless," continued Auguste, "it is to you that I must return +this paper which you dropped in the gateway beneath which we both took +refuge from the rain." + +While speaking and offering the letter to the man, Auguste did not +refrain from casting an eye around the room where Ferragus received +him. It was very well arranged, though simply. A fire burned on the +hearth; and near it was a table with food upon it, which was served +more sumptuously than agreed with the apparent conditions of the man +and the poorness of his lodging. On a sofa in the next room, which he +could see through the doorway, lay a heap of gold, and he heard a +sound which could be no other than that of a woman weeping. + +"The paper belongs to me; I am much obliged to you," said the +mysterious man, turning away as if to make the baron understand that +he must go. + +Too curious himself to take much note of the deep examination of which +he was himself the object, Auguste did not see the half-magnetic +glance with which this strange being seemed to pierce him; had he +encountered that basilisk eye he might have felt the danger that +encompassed him. Too passionately excited to think of himself, Auguste +bowed, went down the stairs, and returned home, striving to find a +meaning in the connection of these three persons,--Ida, Ferragus, and +Madame Jules; an occupation equivalent to that of trying to arrange +the many-cornered bits of a Chinese puzzle without possessing the key +to the game. But Madame Jules had seen him, Madame Jules went there, +Madame Jules had lied to him. Maulincour determined to go and see her +the next day. She could not refuse his visit, for he was now her +accomplice; he was hands and feet in the mysterious affair, and she +knew it. Already he felt himself a sultan, and thought of demanding +from Madame Jules, imperiously, all her secrets. + +In those days Paris was seized with a building-fever. If Paris is a +monster, it is certainly a most mania-ridden monster. It becomes +enamored of a thousand fancies: sometimes it has a mania for building, +like a great seigneur who loves a trowel; soon it abandons the trowel +and becomes all military; it arrays itself from head to foot as a +national guard, and drills and smokes; suddenly, it abandons military +manoeuvres and flings away cigars; it is commercial, care-worn, falls +into bankruptcy, sells its furniture on the place de Chatelet, files +its schedule; but a few days later, lo! it has arranged its affairs +and is giving fetes and dances. One day it eats barley-sugar by the +mouthful, by the handful; yesterday it bought "papier Weymen"; to-day +the monster's teeth ache, and it applies to its walls an +alexipharmatic to mitigate their dampness; to-morrow it will lay in a +provision of pectoral paste. It has its manias for the month, for the +season, for the year, like its manias of a day. + +So, at the moment of which we speak, all the world was building or +pulling down something,--people hardly knew what as yet. There were +very few streets in which high scaffoldings on long poles could not be +seen, fastened from floor to floor with transverse blocks inserted +into holes in the walls on which the planks were laid,--a frail +construction, shaken by the brick-layers, but held together by ropes, +white with plaster, and insecurely protected from the wheels of +carriages by the breastwork of planks which the law requires round all +such buildings. There is something maritime in these masts, and +ladders, and cordage, even in the shouts of the masons. About a dozen +yards from the hotel Maulincour, one of these ephemeral barriers was +erected before a house which was then being built of blocks of free- +stone. The day after the event we have just related, at the moment +when the Baron de Maulincour was passing this scaffolding in his +cabriolet on his way to see Madame Jules, a stone, two feet square, +which was being raised to the upper storey of this building, got loose +from the ropes and fell, crushing the baron's servant who was behind +the cabriolet. A cry of horror shook both the scaffold and the masons; +one of them, apparently unable to keep his grasp on a pole, was in +danger of death, and seemed to have been touched by the stone as it +passed him. + +A crowd collected rapidly; the masons came down the ladders swearing +and insisting that Monsieur de Maulincour's cabriolet had been driven +against the boarding and so had shaken their crane. Two inches more +and the stone would have fallen on the baron's head. The groom was +dead, the carriage shattered. 'Twas an event for the whole +neighborhood, the newspapers told of it. Monsieur de Maulincour, +certain that he had not touched the boarding, complained; the case +went to court. Inquiry being made, it was shown that a small boy, +armed with a lath, had mounted guard and called to all foot-passengers +to keep away. The affair ended there. Monsieur de Maulincour obtained +no redress. He had lost his servant, and was confined to his bed for +some days, for the back of the carriage when shattered had bruised him +severely, and the nervous shock of the sudden surprise gave him a +fever. He did not, therefore, go to see Madame Jules. + +Ten days after this event, he left the house for the first time, in +his repaired cabriolet, when, as he drove down the rue de Bourgogne +and was close to the sewer opposite to the Chamber of Deputies, the +axle-tree broke in two, and the baron was driving so rapidly that the +breakage would have caused the two wheels to come together with force +enough to break his head, had it not been for the resistance of the +leather hood. Nevertheless, he was badly wounded in the side. For the +second time in ten days he was carried home in a fainting condition to +his terrified grandmother. This second accident gave him a feeling of +distrust; he thought, though vaguely, of Ferragus and Madame Jules. To +throw light on these suspicions he had the broken axle brought to his +room and sent for his carriage-maker. The man examined the axle and +the fracture, and proved two things: First, the axle was not made in +his workshop; he furnished none that did not bear the initials of his +name on the iron. But he could not explain by what means this axle had +been substituted for the other. Secondly, the breakage of the +suspicious axle was caused by a hollow space having been blown in it +and a straw very cleverly inserted. + +"Eh! Monsieur le baron, whoever did that was malicious!" he said; "any +one would swear, to look at it, that the axle was sound." + +Monsieur de Maulincour begged the carriage-maker to say nothing of the +affair; but he felt himself warned. These two attempts at murder were +planned with an ability which denoted the enmity of intelligent minds. + +"It is war to the death," he said to himself, as he tossed in his bed, +--"a war of savages, skulking in ambush, of trickery and treachery, +declared in the name of Madame Jules. What sort of man is this to whom +she belongs? What species of power does this Ferragus wield?" + +Monsieur de Maulincour, though a soldier and brave man, could not +repress a shudder. In the midst of many thoughts that now assailed +him, there was one against which he felt he had neither defence nor +courage: might not poison be employed ere long by his secret enemies? +Under the influence of fears, which his momentary weakness and fever +and low diet increased, he sent for an old woman long attached to the +service of his grandmother, whose affection for himself was one of +those semi-maternal sentiments which are the sublime of the +commonplace. Without confiding in her wholly, he charged her to buy +secretly and daily, in different localities, the food he needed; +telling her to keep it under lock and key and bring it to him herself, +not allowing any one, no matter who, to approach her while preparing +it. He took the most minute precautions to protect himself against +that form of death. He was ill in his bed and alone, and he had +therefore the leisure to think of his own security,--the one necessity +clear-sighted enough to enable human egotism to forget nothing! + +But the unfortunate man had poisoned his own life by this dread, and, +in spite of himself, suspicion dyed all his hours with its gloomy +tints. These two lessons of attempted assassination did teach him, +however, the value of one of the virtues most necessary to a public +man; he saw the wise dissimulation that must be practised in dealing +with the great interests of life. To be silent about our own secret is +nothing; but to be silent from the start, to forget a fact as Ali +Pacha did for thirty years in order to be sure of a vengeance waited +for for thirty years, is a fine study in a land where there are few +men who can keep their own counsel for thirty days. Monsieur de +Maulincour literally lived only through Madame Jules. He was +perpetually absorbed in a sober examination into the means he ought to +employ to triumph in this mysterious struggle with these mysterious +persons. His secret passion for that woman grew by reason of all these +obstacles. Madame Jules was ever there, erect, in the midst of his +thoughts, in the centre of his heart, more seductive by her presumable +vices than by the positive virtues for which he had made her his idol. + +At last, anxious to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, he thought +he might without danger initiate the vidame into the secrets of his +situation. The old commander loved Auguste as a father loves his +wife's children; he was shrewd, dexterous, and very diplomatic. He +listened to the baron, shook his head, and they both held counsel. The +worthy vidame did not share his young friend's confidence when Auguste +declared that in the time in which they now lived, the police and the +government were able to lay bare all mysteries, and that if it were +absolutely necessary to have recourse to those powers, he should find +them most powerful auxiliaries. + +The old man replied, gravely: "The police, my dear boy, is the most +incompetent thing on this earth, and government the feeblest in all +matters concerning individuals. Neither the police nor the government +can read hearts. What we might reasonably ask of them is to search for +the causes of an act. But the police and the government are both +eminently unfitted for that; they lack, essentially, the personal +interest which reveals all to him who wants to know all. No human +power can prevent an assassin or a poisoner from reaching the heart of +a prince or the stomach of an honest man. Passions are the best +police." + +The vidame strongly advised the baron to go to Italy, and from Italy +to Greece, from Greece to Syria, from Syria to Asia, and not to return +until his secret enemies were convinced of his repentance, and would +so make tacit peace with him. But if he did not take that course, then +the vidame advised him to stay in the house, and even in his own room, +where he would be safe from the attempts of this man Ferragus, and not +to leave it until he could be certain of crushing him. + +"We should never touch an enemy until we can be sure of taking his +head off," he said, gravely. + +The old man, however, promised his favorite to employ all the +astuteness with which Heaven had provided him (without compromising +any one) in reconnoitring the enemy's ground, and laying his plans for +future victory. The Commander had in his service a retired Figaro, the +wiliest monkey that ever walked in human form; in earlier days as +clever as a devil, working his body like a galley-slave, alert as a +thief, sly as a woman, but now fallen into the decadence of genius for +want of practice since the new constitution of Parisian society, which +has reformed even the valets of comedy. This Scapin emeritus was +attached to his master as to a superior being; but the shrewd old +vidame added a good round sum yearly to the wages of his former +provost of gallantry, which strengthened the ties of natural affection +by the bonds of self-interest, and obtained for the old gentleman as +much care as the most loving mistress could bestow on a sick friend. +It was this pearl of the old-fashioned comedy-valets, relic of the +last century, auxiliary incorruptible from lack of passions to +satisfy, on whom the old vidame and Monsieur de Maulincour now relied. + +"Monsieur le baron will spoil all," said the great man in livery, when +called into counsel. "Monsieur should eat, drink, and sleep in peace. +I take the whole matter upon myself." + +Accordingly, eight days after the conference, when Monsieur de +Maulincour, perfectly restored to health, was breakfasting with his +grandmother and the vidame, Justin entered to make his report. As soon +as the dowager had returned to her own apartments he said, with that +mock modesty which men of talent are so apt to affect:-- + +"Ferragus is not the name of the enemy who is pursuing Monsieur le +baron. This man--this devil, rather--is called Gratien, Henri, Victor, +Jean-Joseph Bourignard. The Sieur Gratien Bourignard is a former ship- +builder, once very rich, and, above all, one of the handsomest men of +his day in Paris,--a Lovelace, capable of seducing Grandison. My +information stops short there. He has been a simple workman; and the +Companions of the Order of the Devorants did, at one time, elect him +as their chief, under the title of Ferragus XXIII. The police ought to +know that, if the police were instituted to know anything. The man has +moved from the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and now roosts rue Joquelet, +where Madame Jules Desmarets goes frequently to see him; sometimes her +husband, on his way to the Bourse, drives her as far as the rue +Vivienne, or she drives her husband to the Bourse. Monsieur le vidame +knows about these things too well to want me to tell him if it is the +husband who takes the wife, or the wife who takes the husband; but +Madame Jules is so pretty, I'd bet on her. All that I have told you is +positive. Bourignard often plays at number 129. Saving your presence, +monsieur, he's a rogue who loves women, and he has his little ways +like a man of condition. As for the rest, he wins sometimes, disguises +himself like an actor, paints his face to look like anything he +chooses, and lives, I may say, the most original life in the world. I +don't doubt he has a good many lodgings, for most of the time he +manages to evade what Monsieur le vidame calls "parliamentary +investigations." If monsieur wishes, he could be disposed of +honorably, seeing what his habits are. It is always easy to get rid of +a man who loves women. However, this capitalist talks about moving +again. Have Monsieur le vidame and Monsieur le baron any other +commands to give me?" + +"Justin, I am satisfied with you; don't go any farther in the matter +without my orders, but keep a close watch here, so that Monsieur le +baron may have nothing to fear." + +"My dear boy," continued the vidame, when they were alone, "go back to +your old life, and forget Madame Jules." + +"No, no," said Auguste; "I will never yield to Gratien Bourignard. I +will have him bound hand and foot, and Madame Jules also." + +That evening the Baron Auguste de Maulincour, recently promoted to +higher rank in the company of the Body-Guard of the king, went to a +ball given by Madame la Duchesse de Berry at the Elysee-Bourbon. +There, certainly, no danger could lurk for him; and yet, before he +left the palace, he had an affair of honor on his hands,--an affair it +was impossible to settle except by a duel. + +His adversary, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, considered that he had +strong reasons to complain of Monsieur de Maulincour, who had given +some ground for it during his former intimacy with Monsieur de +Ronquerolles' sister, the Comtesse de Serizy. That lady, the one who +detested German sentimentality, was all the more exacting in the +matter of prudery. By one of those inexplicable fatalities, Auguste +now uttered a harmless jest which Madame de Serizy took amiss, and her +brother resented it. The discussion took place in the corner of a +room, in a low voice. In good society, adversaries never raise their +voices. The next day the faubourg Saint-Germain and the Chateau talked +over the affair. Madame de Serizy was warmly defended, and all the +blame was laid on Maulincour. August personages interfered. Seconds of +the highest distinction were imposed on Messieurs de Maulincour and de +Ronquerolles and every precaution was taken on the ground that no one +should be killed. + +When Auguste found himself face to face with his antagonist, a man of +pleasure, to whom no one could possibly deny sentiments of the highest +honor, he felt it was impossible to believe him the instrument of +Ferragus, chief of the Devorants; and yet he was compelled, as it +were, by an inexplicable presentiment, to question the marquis. + +"Messieurs," he said to the seconds, "I certainly do not refuse to +meet the fire of Monsieur de Ronquerolles; but before doing so, I here +declare that I was to blame, and I offer him whatever excuses he may +desire, and publicly if he wishes it; because when the matter concerns +a woman, nothing, I think, can degrade a man of honor. I therefore +appeal to his generosity and good sense; is there not something rather +silly in fighting without a cause?" + +Monsieur de Ronquerolles would not allow of this way of ending the +affair, and then the baron, his suspicions revived, walked up to him. + +"Well, then! Monsieur le marquis," he said, "pledge me, in presence of +these gentlemen, your word as a gentleman that you have no other +reason for vengeance than that you have chosen to put forward." + +"Monsieur, that is a question you have no right to ask." + +So saying, Monsieur de Ronquerolles took his place. It was agreed, in +advance, that the adversaries were to be satisfied with one exchange +of shots. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, in spite of the great distance +determined by the seconds, which seemed to make the death of either +party problematical, if not impossible, brought down the baron. The +ball went through the latter's body just below the heart, but +fortunately without doing vital injury. + +"You aimed too well, monsieur," said the baron, "to be avenging only a +paltry quarrel." + +And he fainted. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, who believed him to be a +dead man, smiled sardonically as he heard those words. + +After a fortnight, during which time the dowager and the vidame gave +him those cares of old age the secret of which is in the hands of long +experience only, the baron began to return to life. But one morning +his grandmother dealt him a crushing blow, by revealing anxieties to +which, in her last days, she was now subjected. She showed him a +letter signed F, in which the history of her grandson's secret +espionage was recounted step by step. The letter accused Monsieur de +Maulincour of actions that were unworthy of a man of honor. He had, it +said, placed an old woman at the stand of hackney-coaches in the rue +de Menars; an old spy, who pretended to sell water from her cask to +the coachmen, but who was really there to watch the actions of Madame +Jules Desmarets. He had spied upon the daily life of a most +inoffensive man, in order to detect his secrets,--secrets on which +depended the lives of three persons. He had brought upon himself a +relentless struggle, in which, although he had escaped with life three +times, he must inevitably succumb, because his death had been sworn +and would be compassed if all human means were employed upon it. +Monsieur de Maulincour could no longer escape his fate by even +promising to respect the mysterious life of these three persons, +because it was impossible to believe the word of a gentleman who had +fallen to the level of a police-spy; and for what reason? Merely to +trouble the respectable life of an innocent woman and a harmless old +man. + +The letter itself was nothing to Auguste in comparison to the tender +reproaches of his grandmother. To lack respect to a woman! to spy upon +her actions without a right to do so! Ought a man ever to spy upon a +woman whom he loved?--in short, she poured out a torrent of those +excellent reasons which prove nothing; and they put the young baron, +for the first time in his life, into one of those great human furies +in which are born, and from which issue the most vital actions of a +man's life. + +"Since it is war to the knife," he said in conclusion, "I shall kill +my enemy by any means that I can lay hold of." + +The vidame went immediately, at Auguste's request, to the chief of the +private police of Paris, and without bringing Madame Jules' name or +person into the narrative, although they were really the gist of it, +he made the official aware of the fears of the family of Maulincour +about this mysterious person who was bold enough to swear the death of +an officer of the Guards, in defiance of the law and the police. The +chief pushed up his green spectacles in amazement, blew his nose +several times, and offered snuff to the vidame, who, to save his +dignity, pretended not to use tobacco, although his own nose was +discolored with it. Then the chief took notes and promised, Vidocq and +his spies aiding, to send in a report within a few days to the +Maulincour family, assuring them meantime that there were no secrets +for the police of Paris. + +A few days after this the police official called to see the vidame at +the Hotel de Maulincour, where he found the young baron quite +recovered from his last wound. He gave them in bureaucratic style his +thanks for the indications they had afforded him, and told them that +Bourignard was a convict, condemned to twenty years' hard labor, who +had miraculously escaped from a gang which was being transported from +Bicetre to Toulon. For thirteen years the police had been endeavoring +to recapture him, knowing that he had boldly returned to Paris; but so +far this convict had escaped the most active search, although he was +known to be mixed up in many nefarious deeds. However, the man, whose +life was full of very curious incidents, would certainly be captured +now in one or other of his several domiciles and delivered up to +justice. The bureaucrat ended his report by saying to Monsieur de +Maulincour that if he attached enough importance to the matter to wish +to witness the capture of Bourignard, he might come the next day at +eight in the morning to a house in the rue Sainte-Foi, of which he +gave him the number. Monsieur de Maulincour excused himself from going +personally in search of certainty,--trusting, with the sacred respect +inspired by the police of Paris, in the capability of the authorities. + +Three days later, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing in the +newspapers about the projected arrest, which was certainly of enough +importance to have furnished an article, Monsieur de Maulincour was +beginning to feel anxieties which were presently allayed by the +following letter:-- + + Monsieur le Baron,--I have the honor to announce to you that you + need have no further uneasiness touching the affair in question. + The man named Gratien Bourignard, otherwise called Ferragus, died + yesterday, at his lodgings, rue Joquelet No. 7. The suspicions we + naturally conceived as to the identity of the dead body have been + completely set at rest by the facts. The physician of the + Prefecture of police was despatched by us to assist the physician + of the arrondissement, and the chief of the detective police made + all the necessary verifications to obtain absolute certainty. + Moreover, the character of the persons who signed the certificate + of death, and the affidavits of those who took care of the said + Bourignard in his last illness, among others that of the worthy + vicar of the church of the Bonne-Nouvelle (to whom he made his + last confession, for he died a Christian), do not permit us to + entertain any sort of doubt. + +Accept, Monsieur le baron, etc., etc. + + +Monsieur de Maulincour, the dowager, and the vidame breathed again +with joy unspeakable. The good old woman kissed her grandson leaving a +tear upon his cheek, and went away to thank God in prayer. The dear +soul, who was making a novena for Auguste's safety, believed her +prayers were answered. + +"Well," said the vidame, "now you had better show yourself at the ball +you were speaking of. I oppose no further objections." + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WIFE ACCUSED + +Monsieur de Maulincour was all the more anxious to go to this ball +because he knew that Madame Jules would be present. The fete was given +by the Prefect of the Seine, in whose salons the two social worlds of +Paris met as on neutral ground. Auguste passed through the rooms +without finding the woman who now exercised so mighty an influence on +his fate. He entered an empty boudoir where card-tables were placed +awaiting players; and sitting down on a divan he gave himself up to +the most contradictory thoughts about her. A man presently took the +young officer by the arm, and looking up the baron was stupefied to +behold the pauper of the rue Coquilliere, the Ferragus of Ida, the +lodger in the rue Soly, the Bourignard of Justin, the convict of the +police, and the dead man of the day before. + +"Monsieur, not a sound, not a word," said Bourignard, whose voice he +recognized. The man was elegantly dressed; he wore the order of the +Golden-Fleece, and a medal on his coat. "Monsieur," he continued, and +his voice was sibilant like that of a hyena, "you increase my efforts +against you by having recourse to the police. You will perish, +monsieur; it has now become necessary. Do you love Madame Jules? Are +you beloved by her? By what right do you trouble her peaceful life, +and blacken her virtue?" + +Some one entered the card-room. Ferragus rose to go. + +"Do you know this man?" asked Monsieur de Maulincour of the new-comer, +seizing Ferragus by the collar. But Ferragus quickly disengaged +himself, took Monsieur de Maulincour by the hair, and shook his head +rapidly. + +"Must you have lead in it to make it steady?" he said. + +"I do not know him personally," replied Henri de Marsay, the spectator +of this scene, "but I know that he is Monsieur de Funcal, a rich +Portuguese." + +Monsieur de Funcal had disappeared. The baron followed but without +being able to overtake him until he reached the peristyle, where he +saw Ferragus, who looked at him with a jeering laugh from a brilliant +equipage which was driven away at high speed. + +"Monsieur," said Auguste, re-entering the salon and addressing de +Marsay, whom he knew, "I entreat you to tell me where Monsieur de +Funcal lives." + +"I do not know; but some one here can no doubt tell you." + +The baron, having questioned the prefect, ascertained that the Comte +de Funcal lived at the Portuguese embassy. At this moment, while he +still felt the icy fingers of that strange man in his hair, he saw +Madame Jules in all her dazzling beauty, fresh, gracious, artless, +resplendent with the sanctity of womanhood which had won his love. +This creature, now infernal to him, excited no emotion in his soul but +that of hatred; and this hatred shone in a savage, terrible look from +his eyes. He watched for a moment when he could speak to her unheard, +and then he said:-- + +"Madame, your /bravi/ have missed me three times." + +"What do you mean, monsieur?" she said, flushing. "I know that you +have had several unfortunate accidents lately, which I have greatly +regretted; but how could I have had anything to do with them?" + +"You knew that /bravi/ were employed against me by that man of the rue +Soly?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Madame, I now call you to account, not for my happiness only, but for +my blood--" + +At this instant Jules Desmarets approached them. + +"What are you saying to my wife, monsieur?" + +"Make that inquiry at my own house, monsieur, if you are curious," +said Maulincour, moving away, and leaving Madame Jules in an almost +fainting condition. + +There are few women who have not found themselves, once at least in +their lives, /a propos/ of some undeniable fact, confronted with a +direct, sharp, uncompromising question,--one of those questions +pitilessly asked by husbands, the mere apprehension of which gives a +chill, while the actual words enter the heart like the blade of a +dagger. It is from such crises that the maxim has come, "All women +lie." Falsehood, kindly falsehood, venial falsehood, sublime +falsehood, horrible falsehood,--but always the necessity to lie. This +necessity admitted, ought they not to know how to lie well? French +women do it admirably. Our manners and customs teach them deception! +Besides, women are so naively saucy, so pretty, graceful, and withal +so true in lying,--they recognize so fully the utility of doing so in +order to avoid in social life the violent shocks which happiness might +not resist,--that lying is seen to be as necessary to their lives as +the cotton-wool in which they put away their jewels. Falsehood becomes +to them the foundation of speech; truth is exceptional; they tell it, +if they are virtuous, by caprice or by calculation. According to +individual character, some women laugh when they lie; others weep; +others are grave; some grow angry. After beginning life by feigning +indifference to the homage that deeply flatters them, they often end +by lying to themselves. Who has not admired their apparent superiority +to everything at the very moment when they are trembling for the +secret treasures of their love? Who has never studied their ease, +their readiness, their freedom of mind in the greatest embarrassments +of life? In them, nothing is put on. Deception comes as the snow from +heaven. And then, with what art they discover the truth in others! +With what shrewdness they employ a direct logic in answer to some +passionate question which has revealed to them the secret of the heart +of a man who was guileless enough to proceed by questioning! To +question a woman! why, that is delivering one's self up to her; does +she not learn in that way all that we seek to hide from her? Does she +not know also how to be dumb, through speaking? What men are daring +enough to struggle with the Parisian woman?--a woman who knows how to +hold herself above all dagger thrusts, saying: "You are very +inquisitive; what is it to you? Why do you wish to know? Ah! you are +jealous! And suppose I do not choose to answer you?"--in short, a +woman who possesses the hundred and thirty-seven methods of saying +/No/, and incommensurable variations of the word /Yes/. Is not a +treatise on the words /yes/ and /no/, a fine diplomatic, philosophic, +logographic, and moral work, still waiting to be written? But to +accomplish this work, which we may also call diabolic, isn't an +androgynous genius necessary? For that reason, probably, it will never +be attempted. And besides, of all unpublished works isn't it the best +known and the best practised among women? Have you studied the +behavior, the pose, the /disinvoltura/ of a falsehood? Examine it. + +Madame Desmarets was seated in the right-hand corner of her carriage, +her husband in the left. Having forced herself to recover from her +emotion in the ballroom, she now affected a calm demeanor. Her husband +had then said nothing to her, and he still said nothing. Jules looked +out of the carriage window at the black walls of the silent houses +before which they passed; but suddenly, as if driven by a determining +thought, when turning the corner of a street he examined his wife, who +appeared to be cold in spite of the fur-lined pelisse in which she was +wrapped. He thought she seemed pensive, and perhaps she really was so. +Of all communicable things, reflection and gravity are the most +contagious. + +"What could Monsieur de Maulincour have said to affect you so keenly?" +said Jules; "and why does he wish me to go to his house and find out?" + +"He can tell you nothing in his house that I cannot tell you here," +she replied. + +Then, with that feminine craft which always slightly degrades virtue, +Madame Jules waited for another question. Her husband turned his face +back to the houses, and continued his study of their walls. Another +question would imply suspicion, distrust. To suspect a woman is a +crime in love. Jules had already killed a man for doubting his wife. +Clemence did not know all there was of true passion, of loyal +reflection, in her husband's silence; just as Jules was ignorant of +the generous drama that was wringing the heart of his Clemence. + +The carriage rolled on through a silent Paris, bearing the couple,-- +two lovers who adored each other, and who, gently leaning on the same +silken cushion, were being parted by an abyss. In these elegant coupes +returning from a ball between midnight and two in the morning, how +many curious and singular scenes must pass,--meaning those coupes with +lanterns, which light both the street and the carriage, those with +their windows unshaded; in short, legitimate coupes, in which couples +can quarrel without caring for the eyes of pedestrians, because the +civil code gives a right to provoke, or beat, or kiss, a wife in a +carriage or elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere! How many secrets must be +revealed in this way to nocturnal pedestrians,--to those young fellows +who have gone to a ball in a carriage, but are obliged, for whatever +cause it may be, to return on foot. It was the first time that Jules +and Clemence had been together thus,--each in a corner; usually the +husband pressed close to his wife. + +"It is very cold," remarked Madame Jules. + +But her husband did not hear her; he was studying the signs above the +shop windows. + +"Clemence," he said at last, "forgive me the question I am about to +ask you." + +He came closer, took her by the waist, and drew her to him. + +"My God, it is coming!" thought the poor woman. "Well," she said +aloud, anticipating the question, "you want to know what Monsieur de +Maulincour said to me. I will tell you, Jules; but not without fear. +Good God! how is it possible that you and I should have secrets from +one another? For the last few moments I have seen you struggling +between a conviction of our love and vague fears. But that conviction +is clear within us, is it not? And these doubts and fears, do they not +seem to you dark and unnatural? Why not stay in that clear light of +love you cannot doubt? When I have told you all, you will still desire +to know more; and yet I myself do not know what the extraordinary +words of that man meant. What I fear is that this may lead to some +fatal affair between you. I would rather that we both forget this +unpleasant moment. But, in any case, swear to me that you will let +this singular adventure explain itself naturally. Here are the facts. +Monsieur de Maulincour declared to me that the three accidents you +have heard mentioned--the falling of a stone on his servant, the +breaking down of his cabriolet, and his duel about Madame de Serizy-- +were the result of some plot I had laid against him. He also +threatened to reveal to you the cause of my desire to destroy him. Can +you imagine what all this means? My emotion came from the sight of his +face convulsed with madness, his haggard eyes, and also his words, +broken by some violent inward emotion. I thought him mad. That is all +that took place. Now, I should be less than a woman if I had not +perceived that for over a year I have become, as they call it, the +passion of Monsieur de Maulincour. He has never seen me except at a +ball; and our intercourse has been most insignificant,--merely that +which every one shares at a ball. Perhaps he wants to disunite us, so +that he may find me at some future time alone and unprotected. There, +see! already you are frowning! Oh, how cordially I hate society! We +were so happy without him; why take any notice of him? Jules, I +entreat you, forget all this! To-morrow we shall, no doubt, hear that +Monsieur de Maulincour has gone mad." + +"What a singular affair!" thought Jules, as the carriage stopped under +the peristyle of their house. He gave his arm to his wife and together +they went up to their apartments. + +To develop this history in all its truth of detail, and to follow its +course through many windings, it is necessary here to divulge some of +love's secrets, to glide beneath the ceilings of a marriage chamber, +not shamelessly, but like Trilby, frightening neither Dougal nor +Jeannie, alarming no one,--being as chaste as our noble French +language requires, and as bold as the pencil of Gerard in his picture +of Daphnis and Chloe. + +The bedroom of Madame Jules was a sacred plot. Herself, her husband, +and her maid alone entered it. Opulence has glorious privileges, and +the most enviable are those which enable the development of sentiments +to their fullest extent,--fertilizing them by the accomplishment of +even their caprices, and surrounding them with a brilliancy that +enlarges them, with refinements that purify them, with a thousand +delicacies that make them still more alluring. If you hate dinners on +the grass, and meals ill-served, if you feel a pleasure in seeing a +damask cloth that is dazzlingly white, a silver-gilt dinner service, +and porcelain of exquisite purity, lighted by transparent candles, +where miracles of cookery are served under silver covers bearing coats +of arms, you must, to be consistent, leave the garrets at the tops of +the houses, and the grisettes in the streets, abandon garrets, +grisettes, umbrellas, and overshoes to men who pay for their dinners +with tickets; and you must also comprehend Love to be a principle +which develops in all its grace only on Savonnerie carpets, beneath +the opal gleams of an alabaster lamp, between guarded walls silk-hung, +before gilded hearths in chambers deadened to all outward sounds by +shutters and billowy curtains. Mirrors must be there to show the play +of form and repeat the woman we would multiply as love itself +multiplies and magnifies her; next low divans, and a bed which, like a +secret, is divined, not shown. In this coquettish chamber are fur- +lined slippers for pretty feet, wax-candles under glass with muslin +draperies, by which to read at all hours of the night, and flowers, +not those oppressive to the head, and linen, the fineness of which +might have satisfied Anne of Austria. + +Madame Jules had realized this charming programme, but that was +nothing. All women of taste can do as much, though there is always in +the arrangement of these details a stamp of personality which gives to +this decoration or that detail a character that cannot be imitated. +To-day, more than ever, reigns the fanaticism of individuality. The +more our laws tend to an impossible equality, the more we shall get +away from it in our manners and customs. Thus, rich people are +beginning, in France, to become more exclusive in their tastes and +their belongings, than they have been for the last thirty years. +Madame Jules knew very well how to carry out this programme; and +everything about her was arranged in harmony with a luxury that suits +so well with love. Love in a cottage, or "Fifteen hundred francs and +my Sophy," is the dream of starvelings to whom black bread suffices in +their present state; but when love really comes, they grow fastidious +and end by craving the luxuries of gastronomy. Love holds toil and +poverty in horror. It would rather die than merely live on from hand +to mouth. + +Many women, returning from a ball, impatient for their beds, throw off +their gowns, their faded flowers, their bouquets, the fragrance of +which has now departed. They leave their little shoes beneath a chair, +the white strings trailing; they take out their combs and let their +hair roll down as it will. Little they care if their husbands see the +puffs, the hairpins, the artful props which supported the elegant +edifices of the hair, and the garlands or the jewels that adorned it. +No more mysteries! all is over for the husband; no more painting or +decoration for him. The corset--half the time it is a corset of a +reparative kind--lies where it is thrown, if the maid is too sleepy to +take it away with her. The whalebone bustle, the oiled-silk +protections round the sleeves, the pads, the hair bought from a +coiffeur, all the false woman is there, scattered about in open sight. +/Disjecta membra poetae/, the artificial poesy, so much admired by +those for whom it is conceived and elaborated, the fragments of a +pretty woman, litter every corner of the room. To the love of a +yawning husband, the actual presents herself, also yawning, in a +dishabille without elegance, and a tumbled night-cap, that of last +night and that of to-morrow night also,--"For really, monsieur, if you +want a pretty cap to rumple every night, increase my pin-money." + +There's life as it is! A woman makes herself old and unpleasing to her +husband; but dainty and elegant and adorned for others, for the rival +of all husbands,--for that world which calumniates and tears to shreds +her sex. + +Inspired by true love, for Love has, like other creations, its +instinct of preservation, Madame Jules did very differently; she found +in the constant blessing of her love the necessary impulse to fulfil +all those minute personal cares which ought never to be relaxed, +because they perpetuate love. Besides, such personal cares and duties +proceed from a personal dignity which becomes all women, and are among +the sweetest of flatteries, for is it not respecting in themselves the +man they love? + +So Madame Jules denied to her husband all access to her dressing-room, +where she left the accessories of her toilet, and whence she issued +mysteriously adorned for the mysterious fetes of her heart. Entering +their chamber, which was always graceful and elegant, Jules found a +woman coquettishly wrapped in a charming /peignoir/, her hair simply +wound in heavy coils around her head; a woman always more simple, more +beautiful there than she was before the world; a woman just refreshed +in water, whose only artifice consisted in being whiter than her +muslins, sweeter than all perfumes, more seductive than any siren, +always loving and therefore always loved. This admirable understanding +of a wife's business was the secret of Josephine's charm for Napoleon, +as in former times it was that of Caesonia for Caius Caligula, of +Diane de Poitiers for Henri II. If it was largely productive to women +of seven or eight lustres what a weapon is it in the hands of young +women! A husband gathers with delight the rewards of his fidelity. + +Returning home after the conversation which had chilled her with fear, +and still gave her the keenest anxiety, Madame Jules took particular +pains with her toilet for the night. She wanted to make herself, and +she did make herself enchanting. She belted the cambric of her +dressing-gown round her waist, defining the lines of her bust; she +allowed her hair to fall upon her beautifully modelled shoulders. A +perfumed bath had given her a delightful fragrance, and her little +bare feet were in velvet slippers. Strong in a sense of her advantages +she came in stepping softly, and put her hands over her husband's +eyes. She thought him pensive; he was standing in his dressing-gown +before the fire, his elbow on the mantel and one foot on the fender. +She said in his ear, warming it with her breath, and nibbling the tip +of it with her teeth:-- + +"What are you thinking about, monsieur?" + +Then she pressed him in her arms as if to tear him away from all evil +thoughts. The woman who loves has a full knowledge of her power; the +more virtuous she is, the more effectual her coquetry. + +"About you," he answered. + +"Only about me?" + +"Yes." + +"Ah! that's a very doubtful 'yes.'" + +They went to bed. As she fell asleep, Madame Jules said to herself:-- + +"Monsieur de Maulincour will certainly cause some evil. Jules' mind is +preoccupied, disturbed; he is nursing thoughts he does not tell me." + +It was three in the morning when Madame Jules was awakened by a +presentiment which struck her heart as she slept. She had a sense both +physical and moral of her husband's absence. She did not feel the arm +Jules passed beneath her head,--that arm in which she had slept, +peacefully and happy, for five years; an arm she had never wearied. A +voice said to her, "Jules suffers, Jules is weeping." She raised her +head, and then sat up; felt that her husband's place was cold, and saw +him sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, his head resting +against the back of an arm-chair. Tears were on his cheeks. The poor +woman threw herself hastily from her bed and sprang at a bound to her +husband's knees. + +"Jules! what is it? Are you ill? Speak, tell me! Speak to me, if you +love me!" and she poured out a hundred words expressing the deepest +tenderness. + +Jules knelt at her feet, kissed her hands and knees, and answered with +fresh tears:-- + +"Dear Clemence, I am most unhappy! It is not loving to distrust the +one we love. I adore you and suspect you. The words that man said to +me to-night have struck to my heart; they stay there in spite of +myself, and confound me. There is some mystery here. In short, and I +blush to say it, your explanations do not satisfy me. My reason casts +gleams into my soul which my love rejects. It is an awful combat. +Could I stay there, holding your head, and suspecting thoughts within +it to me unknown? Oh! I believe in you, I believe in you!" he cried, +seeing her smile sadly and open her mouth as if to speak. "Say +nothing; do not reproach me. Besides, could you say anything I have +not said myself for the last three hours? Yes, for three hours, I have +been here, watching you as you slept, so beautiful! admiring that +pure, peaceful brow. Yes, yes! you have always told me your thoughts, +have you not? I alone am in that soul. While I look at you, while my +eyes can plunge into yours I see all plainly. Your life is as pure as +your glance is clear. No, there is no secret behind those transparent +eyes." He rose and kissed their lids. "Let me avow to you, dearest +soul," he said, "that for the last five years each day has increased +my happiness, through the knowledge that you are all mine, and that no +natural affection even can take any of your love. Having no sister, no +father, no mother, no companion, I am neither above nor below any +living being in your heart; I am alone there. Clemence, repeat to me +those sweet things of the spirit you have so often said to me; do not +blame me; comfort me, I am so unhappy. I have an odious suspicion on +my conscience, and you have nothing in your heart to sear it. My +beloved, tell me, could I stay there beside you? Could two heads +united as ours have been lie on the same pillow when one was suffering +and the other tranquil? What are you thinking of?" he cried abruptly, +observing that Clemence was anxious, confused, and seemed unable to +restrain her tears. + +"I am thinking of my mother," she answered, in a grave voice. "You +will never know, Jules, what I suffer in remembering my mother's dying +farewell, said in a voice sweeter than all music, and in feeling the +solemn touch of her icy hand at a moment when you overwhelm me with +those assurances of your precious love." + +She raised her husband, strained him to her with a nervous force +greater than that of men, and kissed his hair, covering it with tears. + +"Ah! I would be hacked in pieces for you! Tell me that I make you +happy; that I am to you the most beautiful of women--a thousand women +to you. Oh! you are loved as no other man ever was or will be. I don't +know the meaning of those words 'duty,' 'virtue.' Jules, I love you +for yourself; I am happy in loving you; I shall love you more and more +to my dying day. I have pride in my love; I feel it is my destiny to +have one sole emotion in my life. What I shall tell you now is +dreadful, I know--but I am glad to have no child; I do not wish for +any. I feel I am more wife than mother. Well, then, can you fear? +Listen to me, my own beloved, promise to forget, not this hour of +mingled tenderness and doubt, but the words of that madman. Jules, you +/must/. Promise me not to see him, not to go to him. I have a deep +conviction that if you set one foot in that maze we shall both roll +down a precipice where I shall perish--but with your name upon my +lips, your heart in my heart. Why hold me so high in that heart and +yet so low in reality? What! you who give credit to so many as to +money, can you not give me the charity of faith? And on the first +occasion in our lives when you might prove to me your boundless trust, +do you cast me from my throne in your heart? Between a madman and me, +it is the madman whom you choose to believe? oh, Jules!" She stopped, +threw back the hair that fell about her brow and neck, and then, in a +heart-rending tone, she added: "I have said too much; one word should +suffice. If your soul and your forehead still keep this cloud, however +light it be, I tell you now that I shall die of it." + +She could not repress a shudder, and turned pale. + +"Oh! I will kill that man," thought Jules, as he lifted his wife in +his arms and carried her to her bed. + +"Let us sleep in peace, my angel," he said. "I have forgotten all, I +swear it!" + +Clemence fell asleep to the music of those sweet words, softly +repeated. Jules, as he watched her sleeping, said in his heart:-- + +"She is right; when love is so pure, suspicion blights it. To that +young soul, that tender flower, a blight--yes, a blight means death." + +When a cloud comes between two beings filled with affection for each +other and whose lives are in absolute unison, that cloud, though it +may disperse, leaves in those souls a trace of its passage. Either +love gains a stronger life, as the earth after rain, or the shock +still echoes like distant thunder through a cloudless sky. It is +impossible to recover absolutely the former life; love will either +increase or diminish. + +At breakfast, Monsieur and Madame Jules showed to each other those +particular attentions in which there is always something of +affectation. There were glances of forced gaiety, which seemed the +efforts of persons endeavoring to deceive themselves. Jules had +involuntary doubts, his wife had positive fears. Still, sure of each +other, they had slept. Was this strained condition the effect of a +want of faith, or was it only a memory of their nocturnal scene? They +did not know themselves. But they loved each other so purely that the +impression of that scene, both cruel and beneficent, could not fail to +leave its traces in their souls; both were eager to make those traces +disappear, each striving to be the first to return to the other, and +thus they could not fail to think of the cause of their first +variance. To loving souls, this is not grief; pain is still far-off; +but it is a sort of mourning, which is difficult to depict. If there +are, indeed, relations between colors and the emotions of the soul, +if, as Locke's blind man said, scarlet produces on the sight the +effect produced upon the hearing by a blast of trumpets, it is +permissible to compare this reaction of melancholy to mourning tones +of gray. + +But even so, love saddened, love in which remains a true sentiment of +its happiness, momentarily troubled though it be, gives enjoyments +derived from pain and pleasure both, which are all novel. Jules +studied his wife's voice; he watched her glances with the freshness of +feeling that inspired him in the earliest days of his passion for her. +The memory of five absolutely happy years, her beauty, the candor of +her love, quickly effaced in her husband's mind the last vestiges of +an intolerable pain. + +The day was Sunday,--a day on which there was no Bourse and no +business to be done. The reunited pair passed the whole day together, +getting farther into each other's hearts than they ever yet had done, +like two children who in a moment of fear, hold each other closely and +cling together, united by an instinct. There are in this life of two- +in-one completely happy days, the gift of chance, ephemeral flowers, +born neither of yesterday nor belonging to the morrow. Jules and +Clemence now enjoyed this day as though they forboded it to be the +last of their loving life. What name shall we give to that mysterious +power which hastens the steps of travellers before the storm is +visible; which makes the life and beauty of the dying so resplendent, +and fills the parting soul with joyous projects for days before death +comes; which tells the midnight student to fill his lamp when it +shines brightest; and makes the mother fear the thoughtful look cast +upon her infant by an observing man? We all are affected by this +influence in the great catastrophes of life; but it has never yet been +named or studied; it is something more than presentiment, but not as +yet clear vision. + +All went well till the following day. On Monday, Jules Desmarets, +obliged to go to the Bourse on his usual business, asked his wife, as +usual, if she would take advantage of his carriage and let him drive +her anywhere. + +"No," she said, "the day is too unpleasant to go out." + +It was raining in torrents. At half-past two o'clock Monsieur +Desmarets reached the Treasury. At four o'clock, as he left the +Bourse, he came face to face with Monsieur de Maulincour, who was +waiting for him with the nervous pertinacity of hatred and vengeance. + +"Monsieur," he said, taking Monsieur Desmarets by the arm, "I have +important information to give you. Listen to me. I am too loyal a man +to have recourse to anonymous letters with which to trouble your peace +of mind; I prefer to speak to you in person. Believe me, if my very +life were not concerned, I should not meddle with the private affairs +of any household, even if I thought I had the right to do so." + +"If what you have to say to me concerns Madame Desmarets," replied +Jules, "I request you to be silent, monsieur." + +"If I am silent, monsieur, you may before long see Madame Jules on the +prisoner's bench at the court of assizes beside a convict. Now, do you +wish me to be silent?" + +Jules turned pale; but his noble face instantly resumed its calmness, +though it was now a false calmness. Drawing the baron under one of the +temporary sheds of the Bourse, near which they were standing, he said +to him in a voice which concealed his intense inward emotion:-- + +"Monsieur, I will listen to you; but there will be a duel to the death +between us if--" + +"Oh, to that I consent!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour. "I have the +greatest esteem for your character. You speak of death. You are +unaware that your wife may have assisted in poisoning me last Saturday +night. Yes, monsieur, since then some extraordinary evil has developed +in me. My hair appears to distil an inward fever and a deadly languor +through my skull; I know who clutched my hair at that ball." + +Monsieur de Maulincour then related, without omitting a single fact, +his platonic love for Madame Jules, and the details of the affair in +the rue Soly which began this narrative. Any one would have listened +to him with attention; but Madame Jules' husband had good reason to be +more amazed than any other human being. Here his character displayed +itself; he was more amazed than overcome. Made a judge, and the judge +of an adored woman, he found in his soul the equity of a judge as well +as the inflexibility. A lover still, he thought less of his own +shattered life than of his wife's life; he listened, not to his own +anguish, but to some far-off voice that cried to him, "Clemence cannot +lie! Why should she betray you?" + +"Monsieur," said the baron, as he ended, "being absolutely certain of +having recognized in Monsieur de Funcal the same Ferragus whom the +police declared dead, I have put upon his traces an intelligent man. +As I returned that night I remembered, by a fortunate chance, the name +of Madame Meynardie, mentioned in that letter of Ida, the presumed +mistress of my persecutor. Supplied with this clue, my emissary will +soon get to the bottom of this horrible affair; for he is far more +able to discover the truth than the police themselves." + +"Monsieur," replied Desmarets, "I know not how to thank you for this +confidence. You say that you can obtain proofs and witnesses; I shall +await them. I shall seek the truth of this strange affair +courageously; but you must permit me to doubt everything until the +evidence of the facts you state is proved to me. In any case you shall +have satisfaction, for, as you will certainly understand, we both +require it." + +Jules returned home. + +"What is the matter, Jules?" asked his wife, when she saw him. "You +look so pale you frighten me!" + +"The day is cold," he answered, walking with slow steps across the +room where all things spoke to him of love and happiness,--that room +so calm and peaceful where a deadly storm was gathering. + +"Did you go out to-day?" he asked, as though mechanically. + +He was impelled to ask the question by the last of a myriad of +thoughts which had gathered themselves together into a lucid +meditation, though jealousy was actively prompting them. + +"No," she answered, in a tone that was falsely candid. + +At that instant Jules saw through the open door of the dressing-room +the velvet bonnet which his wife wore in the mornings; on it were +drops of rain. Jules was a passionate man, but he was also full of +delicacy. It was repugnant to him to bring his wife face to face with +a lie. When such a situation occurs, all has come to an end forever +between certain beings. And yet those drops of rain were like a flash +tearing through his brain. + +He left the room, went down to the porter's lodge, and said to the +porter, after making sure that they were alone:-- + +"Fouguereau, a hundred crowns if you tell me the truth; dismissal if +you deceive me; and nothing at all if you ever speak of my question +and your answer." + +He stopped to examine the man's face, leading him under the window. +Then he continued:-- + +"Did madame go out this morning?" + +"Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in +about half an hour ago." + +"That is true, upon your honor?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"You will have the money; but if you speak of this, remember, you will +lose all." + +Jules returned to his wife. + +"Clemence," he said, "I find I must put my accounts in order. Do not +be offended at the inquiry I am going to make. Have I not given you +forty thousand francs since the beginning of the year?" + +"More," she said,--"forty-seven." + +"Have you spent them?" + +"Nearly," she replied. "In the first place, I had to pay several of +our last year's bills--" + +"I shall never find out anything in this way," thought Jules. "I am +not taking the best course." + +At this moment Jules' own valet entered the room with a letter for his +master, who opened it indifferently, but as soon as his eyes had +lighted on the signature he read it eagerly. The letter was as +follows:-- + + Monsieur,--For the sake of your peace of mind as well as ours, I + take the course of writing you this letter without possessing the + advantage of being known to you; but my position, my age, and the + fear of some misfortune compel me to entreat you to show + indulgence in the trying circumstances under which our afflicted + family is placed. Monsieur Auguste de Maulincour has for the last + few days shown signs of mental derangement, and we fear that he + may trouble your happiness by fancies which he confided to + Monsieur le Vidame de Pamiers and myself during his first attack + of frenzy. We think it right, therefore, to warn you of his + malady, which is, we hope, curable; but it will have such serious + and important effects on the honor of our family and the career of + my grandson that we must rely, monsieur, on your entire + discretion. + + If Monsieur le Vidame or I could have gone to see you we would not + have written. But I make no doubt that you will regard this prayer + of a mother, who begs you to destroy this letter. + + Accept the assurance of my perfect consideration. + +Baronne de Maulincour, /nee/ de Rieux. + + +"Oh! what torture!" cried Jules. + +"What is it? what is in your mind?" asked his wife, exhibiting the +deepest anxiety. + +"I have come," he answered, slowly, as he threw her the letter, "to +ask myself whether it can be you who have sent me that to avert my +suspicions. Judge, therefore, what I suffer." + +"Unhappy man!" said Madame Jules, letting fall the paper. "I pity him; +though he has done me great harm." + +"Are you aware that he has spoken to me?" + +"Oh! have you been to see him, in spite of your promise?" she cried in +terror. + +"Clemence, our love is in danger of perishing; we stand outside of the +ordinary rules of life; let us lay aside all petty considerations in +presence of this great peril. Explain to me why you went out this +morning. Women think they have the right to tell us little falsehoods. +Sometimes they like to hide a pleasure they are preparing for us. Just +now you said a word to me, by mistake, no doubt, a no for a yes." + +He went into the dressing-room and brought out the bonnet. + +"See," he said, "your bonnet has betrayed you; these spots are +raindrops. You must, therefore, have gone out in a street cab, and +these drops fell upon it as you went to find one, or as you entered or +left the house where you went. But a woman can leave her own home for +many innocent purposes, even after she has told her husband that she +did not mean to go out. There are so many reasons for changing our +plans! Caprices, whims, are they not your right? Women are not +required to be consistent with themselves. You had forgotten +something,--a service to render, a visit, some kind action. But +nothing hinders a woman from telling her husband what she does. Can we +ever blush on the breast of a friend? It is not a jealous husband who +speaks to you, my Clemence; it is your lover, your friend, your +brother." He flung himself passionately at her feet. "Speak, not to +justify yourself, but to calm my horrible sufferings. I know that you +went out. Well--what did you do? where did you go?" + +"Yes, I went out, Jules," she answered in a strained voice, though her +face was calm. "But ask me nothing more. Wait; have confidence; +without which you will lay up for yourself terrible remorse. Jules, my +Jules, trust is the virtue of love. I owe to you that I am at this +moment too troubled to answer you: but I am not a false woman; I love +you, and you know it." + +"In the midst of all that can shake the faith of man and rouse his +jealousy, for I see I am not first in your heart, I am no longer thine +own self--well, Clemence, even so, I prefer to believe you, to believe +that voice, to believe those eyes. If you deceive me, you deserve--" + +"Ten thousand deaths!" she cried, interrupting him. + +"I have never hidden a thought from you, but you--" + +"Hush!" she said, "our happiness depends upon our mutual silence." + +"Ha! I /will/ know all!" he exclaimed, with sudden violence. + +At that moment the cries of a woman were heard,--the yelping of a +shrill little voice came from the antechamber. + +"I tell you I will go in!" it cried. "Yes, I shall go in; I will see +her! I shall see her!" + +Jules and Clemence both ran to the salon as the door from the +antechamber was violently burst open. A young woman entered hastily, +followed by two servants, who said to their master:-- + +"Monsieur, this person would come in in spite of us. We told her that +madame was not at home. She answered that she knew very well madame +had been out, but she saw her come in. She threatened to stay at the +door of the house till she could speak to madame." + +"You can go," said Monsieur Desmarets to the two men. "What do you +want, mademoiselle?" he added, turning to the strange woman. + +This "demoiselle" was the type of a woman who is never to be met with +except in Paris. She is made in Paris, like the mud, like the +pavement, like the water of the Seine, such as it becomes in Paris +before human industry filters it ten times ere it enters the cut-glass +decanters and sparkles pure and bright from the filth it has been. She +is therefore a being who is truly original. Depicted scores of times +by the painter's brush, the pencil of the caricaturist, the charcoal +of the etcher, she still escapes analysis, because she cannot be +caught and rendered in all her moods, like Nature, like this fantastic +Paris itself. She holds to vice by one thread only, and she breaks +away from it at a thousand other points of the social circumference. +Besides, she lets only one trait of her character be known, and that +the only one which renders her blamable; her noble virtues are hidden; +she prefers to glory in her naive libertinism. Most incompletely +rendered in dramas and tales where she is put upon the scene with all +her poesy, she is nowhere really true but in her garret; elsewhere she +is invariably calumniated or over-praised. Rich, she deteriorates; +poor, she is misunderstood. She has too many vices, and too many good +qualities; she is too near to pathetic asphyxiation or to a dissolute +laugh; too beautiful and too hideous. She personifies Paris, to which, +in the long run, she supplies the toothless portresses, washerwomen, +street-sweepers, beggars, occasionally insolent countesses, admired +actresses, applauded singers; she has even given, in the olden time, +two quasi-queens to the monarchy. Who can grasp such a Proteus? She is +all woman, less than woman, more than woman. From this vast portrait +the painter of manners and morals can take but a feature here and +there; the /ensemble/ is infinite. + +She was a grisette of Paris; a grisette in all her glory; a grisette +in a hackney-coach,--happy, young, handsome, fresh, but a grisette; a +grisette with claws, scissors, impudent as a Spanish woman, snarling +as a prudish English woman proclaiming her conjugal rights, coquettish +as a great lady, though more frank, and ready for everything; a +perfect /lionne/ in her way; issuing from the little apartment of +which she had dreamed so often, with its red-calico curtains, its +Utrecht velvet furniture, its tea-table, the cabinet of china with +painted designs, the sofa, the little moquette carpet, the alabaster +clock and candlesticks (under glass cases), the yellow bedroom, the +eider-down quilt,--in short, all the domestic joys of a grisette's +life; and in addition, the woman-of-all-work (a former grisette +herself, now the owner of a moustache), theatre-parties, unlimited +bonbons, silk dresses, bonnets to spoil,--in fact, all the felicities +coveted by the grisette heart except a carriage, which only enters her +imagination as a marshal's baton into the dreams of a soldier. Yes, +this grisette had all these things in return for a true affection, or +in spite of a true affection, as some others obtain it for an hour a +day,--a sort of tax carelessly paid under the claws of an old man. + +The young woman who now entered the presence of Monsieur and Madame +Jules had a pair of feet so little covered by her shoes that only a +slim black line was visible between the carpet and her white +stockings. This peculiar foot-gear, which Parisian caricaturists have +well-rendered, is a special attribute of the grisette of Paris; but +she is even more distinctive to the eyes of an observer by the care +with which her garments are made to adhere to her form, which they +clearly define. On this occasion she was trigly dressed in a green +gown, with a white chemisette, which allowed the beauty of her bust to +be seen; her shawl, of Ternaux cashmere, had fallen from her +shoulders, and was held by its two corners, which were twisted round +her wrists. She had a delicate face, rosy cheeks, a white skin, +sparkling gray eyes, a round, very promising forehead, hair carefully +smoothed beneath her little bonnet, and heavy curls upon her neck. + +"My name is Ida," she said, "and if that's Madame Jules to whom I have +the advantage of speaking, I've come to tell her all I have in my +heart against her. It is very wrong, when a woman is set up and in her +furniture, as you are here, to come and take from a poor girl a man +with whom I'm as good as married, morally, and who did talk of making +it right by marrying me before the municipality. There's plenty of +handsome young men in the world--ain't there, monsieur?--to take your +fancy, without going after a man of middle age, who makes my +happiness. Yah! I haven't got a fine hotel like this, but I've got my +love, I have. I hate handsome men and money; I'm all heart, and--" + +Madame Jules turned to her husband. + +"You will allow me, monsieur, to hear no more of all this," she said, +retreating to her bedroom. + +"If the lady lives with you, I've made a mess of it; but I can't help +that," resumed Ida. "Why does she come after Monsieur Ferragus every +day?" + +"You are mistaken, mademoiselle," said Jules, stupefied; "my wife is +incapable--" + +"Ha! so you're married, you two," said the grisette showing some +surprise. "Then it's very wrong, monsieur,--isn't it?--for a woman who +has the happiness of being married in legal marriage to have relations +with a man like Henri--" + +"Henri! who is Henri?" said Jules, taking Ida by the arm and pulling +her into an adjoining room that his wife might hear no more. + +"Why, Monsieur Ferragus." + +"But he is dead," said Jules. + +"Nonsense; I went to Franconi's with him last night, and he brought me +home--as he ought. Besides, your wife can tell you about him; didn't +she go there this very afternoon at three o'clock? I know she did, for +I waited in the street, and saw her,--all because that good-natured +fellow, Monsieur Justin, whom you know perhaps,--a little old man with +jewelry who wears corsets,--told me that Madame Jules was my rival. +That name, monsieur, sounds mighty like a feigned one; but if it is +yours, excuse me. But this I say, if Madame Jules was a court duchess, +Henri is rich enough to satisfy all her fancies, and it is my business +to protect my property; I've a right to, for I love him, that I do. He +is my /first/ inclination; my happiness and all my future fate depends +on it. I fear nothing, monsieur; I am honest; I never lied, or stole +the property of any living soul, no matter who. If an empress was my +rival, I'd go straight to her, empress as she was; because all pretty +women are equals, monsieur--" + +"Enough! enough!" said Jules. "Where do you live?" + +"Rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14, monsieur,--Ida Gruget, +corset-maker, at your service,--for we make lots of corsets for men." + +"Where does the man whom you call Ferragus live?" + +"Monsieur," she said, pursing up her lips, "in the first place, he's +not a man; he is a rich monsieur, much richer, perhaps, than you are. +But why do you ask me his address when your wife knows it? He told me +not to give it. Am I obliged to answer you? I'm not, thank God, in a +confessional or a police-court; I'm responsible only to myself." + +"If I were to offer you ten thousand francs to tell me where Monsieur +Ferragus lives, how then?" + +"Ha! n, o, /no/, my little friend, and that ends the matter," she +said, emphasizing this singular reply with a popular gesture. "There's +no sum in the world could make me tell you. I have the honor to bid +you good-day. How do I get out of here?" + +Jules, horror-struck, allowed her to go without further notice. The +whole world seemed to crumble beneath his feet, and above him the +heavens were falling with a crash. + +"Monsieur is served," said his valet. + +The valet and the footman waited in the dining-room a quarter of an +hour without seeing master or mistress. + +"Madame will not dine to-day," said the waiting-maid, coming in. + +"What's the matter, Josephine?" asked the valet. + +"I don't know," she answered. "Madame is crying, and is going to bed. +Monsieur has no doubt got some love-affair on hand, and it has been +discovered at a very bad time. I wouldn't answer for madame's life. +Men are so clumsy; they'll make you scenes without any precaution." + +"That's not so," said the valet, in a low voice. "On the contrary, +madame is the one who--you understand? What times does monsieur have +to go after pleasures, he, who hasn't slept out of madame's room for +five years, who goes to his study at ten and never leaves it till +breakfast, at twelve. His life is all known, it is regular; whereas +madame goes out nearly every day at three o'clock, Heaven knows +where." + +"And monsieur too," said the maid, taking her mistress's part. + +"Yes, but he goes straight to the Bourse. I told him three times that +dinner was ready," continued the valet, after a pause. "You might as +well talk to a post." + +Monsieur Jules entered the dining-room. + +"Where is madame?" he said. + +"Madame is going to bed; her head aches," replied the maid, assuming +an air of importance. + +Monsieur Jules then said to the footmen composedly: "You can take +away; I shall go and sit with madame." + +He went to his wife's room and found her weeping, but endeavoring to +smother her sobs with her handkerchief. + +"Why do you weep?" said Jules; "you need expect no violence and no +reproaches from me. Why should I avenge myself? If you have not been +faithful to my love, it is that you were never worthy of it." + +"Not worthy?" The words were repeated amid her sobs and the accent in +which they were said would have moved any other man than Jules. + +"To kill you, I must love more than perhaps I do love you," he +continued. "But I should never have the courage; I would rather kill +myself, leaving you to your--happiness, and with--whom!--" + +He did not end his sentence. + +"Kill yourself!" she cried, flinging herself at his feet and clasping +them. + +But he, wishing to escape the embrace, tried to shake her off, +dragging her in so doing toward the bed. + +"Let me alone," he said. + +"No, no, Jules!" she cried. "If you love me no longer I shall die. Do +you wish to know all?" + +"Yes." + +He took her, grasped her violently, and sat down on the edge of the +bed, holding her between his legs. Then, looking at that beautiful +face now red as fire and furrowed with tears,-- + +"Speak," he said. + +Her sobs began again. + +"No; it is a secret of life and death. If I tell it, I--No, I cannot. +Have mercy, Jules!" + +"You have betrayed me--" + +"Ah! Jules, you think so now, but soon you will know all." + +"But this Ferragus, this convict whom you go to see, a man enriched by +crime, if he does not belong to you, if you do not belong to him--" + +"Oh, Jules!" + +"Speak! Is he your mysterious benefactor?--the man to whom we owe our +fortune, as persons have said already?" + +"Who said that?" + +"A man whom I killed in a duel." + +"Oh, God! one death already!" + +"If he is not your protector, if he does not give you money, if it is +you, on the contrary, who carry money to him, tell me, is he your +brother?" + +"What if he were?" she said. + +Monsieur Desmarets crossed his arms. + +"Why should that have been concealed from me?" he said. "Then you and +your mother have both deceived me? Besides, does a woman go to see her +brother every day, or nearly every day?" + +His wife had fainted at his feet. + +"Dead," he said. "And suppose I am mistaken?" + +He sprang to the bell-rope; called Josephine, and lifted Clemence to +the bed. + +"I shall die of this," said Madame Jules, recovering consciousness. + +"Josephine," cried Monsieur Desmarets. "Send for Monsieur Desplein; +send also to my brother and ask him to come here immediately." + +"Why your brother?" asked Clemence. + +But Jules had already left the room. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHERE GO TO DIE? + +For the first time in five years Madame Jules slept alone in her bed, +and was compelled to admit a physician into that sacred chamber. These +in themselves were two keen pangs. Desplein found Madame Jules very +ill. Never was a violent emotion more untimely. He would say nothing +definite, and postponed till the morrow giving any opinion, after +leaving a few directions, which were not executed, the emotions of the +heart causing all bodily cares to be forgotten. + +When morning dawned, Clemence had not yet slept. Her mind was absorbed +in the low murmur of a conversation which lasted several hours between +the brothers; but the thickness of the walls allowed no word which +could betray the object of this long conference to reach her ears. +Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, went away at last. The stillness of +the night, and the singular activity of the senses given by powerful +emotion, enabled Clemence to distinguish the scratching of a pen and +the involuntary movements of a person engaged in writing. Those who +are habitually up at night, and who observe the different acoustic +effects produced in absolute silence, know that a slight echo can be +readily perceived in the very places where louder but more equable and +continued murmurs are not distinct. At four o'clock the sound ceased. +Clemence rose, anxious and trembling. Then, with bare feet and without +a wrapper, forgetting her illness and her moist condition, the poor +woman opened the door softly without noise and looked into the next +room. She saw her husband sitting, with a pen in his hand, asleep in +his arm-chair. The candles had burned to the sockets. She slowly +advanced and read on an envelope, already sealed, the words, "This is +my will." + +She knelt down as if before an open grave and kissed her husband's +hand. He woke instantly. + +"Jules, my friend, they grant some days to criminals condemned to +death," she said, looking at him with eyes that blazed with fever and +with love. "Your innocent wife asks only two. Leave me free for two +days, and--wait! After that, I shall die happy--at least, you will +regret me." + +"Clemence, I grant them." + +Then, as she kissed her husband's hands in the tender transport of her +heart, Jules, under the spell of that cry of innocence, took her in +his arms and kissed her forehead, though ashamed to feel himself still +under subjection to the power of that noble beauty. + +On the morrow, after taking a few hours' rest, Jules entered his +wife's room, obeying mechanically his invariable custom of not leaving +the house without a word to her. Clemence was sleeping. A ray of light +passing through a chink in the upper blind of a window fell across the +face of the dejected woman. Already suffering had impaired her +forehead and the freshness of her lips. A lover's eye could not fail +to notice the appearance of dark blotches, and a sickly pallor in +place of the uniform tone of the cheeks and the pure ivory whiteness +of the skin,--two points at which the sentiments of her noble soul +were artlessly wont to show themselves. + +"She suffers," thought Jules. "Poor Clemence! May God protect us!" + +He kissed her very softly on the forehead. She woke, saw her husband, +and remembered all. Unable to speak, she took his hand, her eyes +filling with tears. + +"I am innocent," she said, ending her dream. + +"You will not go out to-day, will you?" asked Jules. + +"No, I feel too weak to leave my bed." + +"If you should change your mind, wait till I return," said Jules. + +Then he went down to the porter's lodge. + +"Fouguereau, you will watch the door yourself to-day. I wish to know +exactly who comes to the house, and who leaves it." + +Then he threw himself into a hackney-coach, and was driven to the +hotel de Maulincour, where he asked for the baron. + +"Monsieur is ill," they told him. + +Jules insisted on entering, and gave his name. If he could not see the +baron, he wished to see the vidame or the dowager. He waited some time +in the salon, where Madame de Maulincour finally came to him and told +him that her grandson was much too ill to receive him. + +"I know, madame, the nature of his illness from the letter you did me +the honor to write, and I beg you to believe--" + +"A letter to you, monsieur, written by me!" cried the dowager, +interrupting him. "I have written you no letter. What was I made to +say in that letter, monsieur?" + +"Madame," replied Jules, "intending to see Monsieur de Maulincour +to-day, I thought it best to preserve the letter in spite of its +injunction to destroy it. There it is." + +Madame de Maulincour put on her spectacles, and the moment she cast +her eyes on the paper she showed the utmost surprise. + +"Monsieur," she said, "my writing is so perfectly imitated that, if +the matter were not so recent, I might be deceived myself. My grandson +is ill, it is true; but his reason has never for a moment been +affected. We are the puppets of some evil-minded person or persons; +and yet I cannot imagine the object of a trick like this. You shall +see my grandson, monsieur, and you will at once perceive that he is +perfectly sound in mind." + +She rang the bell, and sent to ask if the baron felt able to receive +Monsieur Desmarets. The servant returned with an affirmative answer. +Jules went to the baron's room, where he found him in an arm-chair +near the fire. Too feeble to move, the unfortunate man merely bowed +his head with a melancholy gesture. The Vidame de Pamiers was sitting +with him. + +"Monsieur le baron," said Jules, "I have something to say which makes +it desirable that I should see you alone." + +"Monsieur," replied Auguste, "Monsieur le vidame knows about this +affair; you can speak fearlessly before him." + +"Monsieur le baron," said Jules, in a grave voice, "you have troubled +and well-nigh destroyed my happiness without having any right to do +so. Until the moment when we can see clearly which of us should +demand, or grant, reparation to the other, you are bound to help me in +following the dark and mysterious path into which you have flung me. I +have now come to ascertain from you the present residence of the +extraordinary being who exercises such a baneful effect on your life +and mine. On my return home yesterday, after listening to your +avowals, I received that letter." + +Jules gave him the forged letter. + +"This Ferragus, this Bourignard, or this Monsieur de Funcal, is a +demon!" cried Maulincour, after having read it. "Oh, what a frightful +maze I put my foot into when I meddled in this matter! Where am I +going? I did wrong, monsieur," he continued, looking at Jules; "but +death is the greatest of all expiations, and my death is now +approaching. You can ask me whatever you like; I am at your orders." + +"Monsieur, you know, of course, where this man is living, and I must +know it if it costs me all my fortune to penetrate this mystery. In +presence of so cruel an enemy every moment is precious." + +"Justin shall tell you all," replied the baron. + +At these words the vidame fidgeted on his chair. Auguste rang the +bell. + +"Justin is not in the house!" cried the vidame, in a hasty manner that +told much. + +"Well, then," said Auguste, excitedly, "the other servants must know +where he is; send a man on horseback to fetch him. Your valet is in +Paris, isn't he? He can be found." + +The vidame was visibly distressed. + +"Justin can't come, my dear boy," said the old man; "he is dead. I +wanted to conceal the accident from you, but--" + +"Dead!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour,--"dead! When and how?" + +"Last night. He had been supping with some old friends, and, I dare +say, was drunk; his friends--no doubt they were drunk, too--left him +lying in the street, and a heavy vehicle ran over him." + +"The convict did not miss /him/; at the first stroke he killed," said +Auguste. "He has had less luck with me; it has taken four blows to put +me out of the way." + +Jules was gloomy and thoughtful. + +"Am I to know nothing, then?" he cried, after a long pause. "Your +valet seems to have been justly punished. Did he not exceed your +orders in calumniating Madame Desmarets to a person named Ida, whose +jealousy he roused in order to turn her vindictiveness upon us?" + +"Ah, monsieur! in my anger I informed him about Madame Jules," said +Auguste. + +"Monsieur!" cried the husband, keenly irritated. + +"Oh, monsieur!" replied the baron, claiming silence by a gesture, "I +am prepared for all. You cannot tell me anything my own conscience has +not already told me. I am now expecting the most celebrated of all +professors of toxicology, in order to learn my fate. If I am destined +to intolerable suffering, my resolution is taken. I shall blow my +brains out." + +"You talk like a child!" cried the vidame, horrified by the coolness +with which the baron said these words. "Your grandmother would die of +grief." + +"Then, monsieur," said Jules, "am I to understand that there exist no +means of discovering in what part of Paris this extraordinary man +resides?" + +"I think, monsieur," said the old vidame, "from what I have heard poor +Justin say, that Monsieur de Funcal lives at either the Portuguese or +the Brazilian embassy. Monsieur de Funcal is a nobleman belonging to +both those countries. As for the convict, he is dead and buried. Your +persecutor, whoever he is, seems to me so powerful that it would be +well to take no decisive measures until you are sure of some way of +confounding and crushing him. Act prudently and with caution, my dear +monsieur. Had Monsieur de Maulincour followed my advice, nothing of +all this would have happened." + +Jules coldly but politely withdrew. He was now at a total loss to know +how to reach Ferragus. As he passed into his own house, the porter +told him that Madame had just been out to throw a letter into the post +box at the head of the rue de Menars. Jules felt humiliated by this +proof of the insight with which the porter espoused his cause, and the +cleverness by which he guessed the way to serve him. The eagerness of +servants, and their shrewdness in compromising masters who compromised +themselves, was known to him, and he fully appreciated the danger of +having them as accomplices, no matter for what purpose. But he could +not think of his personal dignity until the moment when he found +himself thus suddenly degraded. What a triumph for the slave who could +not raise himself to his master, to compel his master to come down to +his level! Jules was harsh and hard to him. Another fault. But he +suffered so deeply! His life till then so upright, so pure, was +becoming crafty; he was to scheme and lie. Clemence was scheming and +lying. This to him was a moment of horrible disgust. Lost in a flood +of bitter feelings, Jules stood motionless at the door of his house. +Yielding to despair, he thought of fleeing, of leaving France forever, +carrying with him the illusions of uncertainty. Then, again, not +doubting that the letter Clemence had just posted was addressed to +Ferragus, his mind searched for a means of obtaining the answer that +mysterious being was certain to send. Then his thoughts began to +analyze the singular good fortune of his life since his marriage, and +he asked himself whether the calumny for which he had taken such +signal vengeance was not a truth. Finally, reverting to the coming +answer, he said to himself:-- + +"But this man, so profoundly capable, so logical in his every act, who +sees and foresees, who calculates, and even divines, our very +thoughts, is he likely to make an answer? Will he not employ some +other means more in keeping with his power? He may send his answer by +some beggar; or in a carton brought by an honest man, who does not +suspect what he brings; or in some parcel of shoes, which a shop-girl +may innocently deliver to my wife. If Clemence and he have agreed upon +such means--" + +He distrusted all things; his mind ran over vast tracts and shoreless +oceans of conjecture. Then, after floating for a time among a thousand +contradictory ideas, he felt he was strongest in his own house, and he +resolved to watch it as the ant-lion watches his sandy labyrinth. + +"Fouguereau," he said to the porter, "I am not at home to any one who +comes to see me. If any one calls to see madame, or brings her +anything, ring twice. Bring all letters addressed here to me, no +matter for whom they are intended." + +"Thus," thought he, as he entered his study, which was in the +entresol, "I forestall the schemes of this Ferragus. If he sends some +one to ask for me so as to find out if Clemence is alone, at least I +shall not be tricked like a fool." + +He stood by the window of his study, which looked upon the street, and +then a final scheme, inspired by jealousy, came into his mind. He +resolved to send his head-clerk in his own carriage to the Bourse with +a letter to another broker, explaining his sales and purchases and +requesting him to do his business for that day. He postponed his more +delicate transactions till the morrow, indifferent to the fall or rise +of stocks or the debts of all Europe. High privilege of love!--it +crushes all things, all interests fall before it: altar, throne, +consols! + +At half-past three, just the hour at which the Bourse is in full blast +of reports, monthly settlements, premiums, etc., Fouguereau entered +the study, quite radiant with his news. + +"Monsieur, an old woman has come, but very cautiously; I think she's a +sly one. She asked for monsieur, and seemed much annoyed when I told +her he was out; then she gave me a letter for madame, and here it is." + +Fevered with anxiety, Jules opened the letter; then he dropped into a +chair, exhausted. The letter was mere nonsense throughout, and needed +a key. It was virtually in cipher. + +"Go away, Fouguereau." The porter left him. "It is a mystery deeper +than the sea below the plummet line! Ah! it must be love; love only is +so sagacious, so inventive as this. Ah! I shall kill her." + +At this moment an idea flashed through his brain with such force that +he felt almost physically illuminated by it. In the days of his +toilsome poverty before his marriage, Jules had made for himself a +true friend. The extreme delicacy with which he had managed the +susceptibilities of a man both poor and modest; the respect with which +he had surrounded him; the ingenious cleverness he had employed to +nobly compel him to share his opulence without permitting it to make +him blush, increased their friendship. Jacquet continued faithful to +Desmarets in spite of his wealth. + +Jacquet, a nobly upright man, a toiler, austere in his morals, had +slowly made his way in that particular ministry which develops both +honesty and knavery at the same time. A clerk in the ministry of +Foreign Affairs, he had charge of the most delicate division of its +archives. Jacquet in that office was like a glow-worm, casting his +light upon those secret correspondences, deciphering and classifying +despatches. Ranking higher than a mere /bourgeois/, his position at +the ministry was superior to that of the other subalterns. He lived +obscurely, glad to feel that such obscurity sheltered him from +reverses and disappointments, and was satisfied to humbly pay in the +lowest coin his debt to the country. Thanks to Jules, his position had +been much ameliorated by a worthy marriage. An unrecognized patriot, a +minister in actual fact, he contented himself with groaning in his +chimney-corner at the course of the government. In his own home, +Jacquet was an easy-going king,--an umbrella-man, as they say, who +hired a carriage for his wife which he never entered himself. In +short, to end this sketch of a philosopher unknown to himself, he had +never suspected and never in all his life would suspect the advantages +he might have drawn from his position,--that of having for his +intimate friend a broker, and of knowing every morning all the secrets +of the State. This man, sublime after the manner of that nameless +soldier who died in saving Napoleon by a "qui vive," lived at the +ministry. + +In ten minutes Jules was in his friend's office. Jacquet gave him a +chair, laid aside methodically his green silk eye-shade, rubbed his +hands, picked up his snuff-box, rose, stretched himself till his +shoulder-blades cracked, swelled out his chest, and said:-- + +"What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?" + +"Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret,--a secret of life and +death." + +"It doesn't concern politics?" + +"If it did, I shouldn't come to you for information," said Jules. "No, +it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely +silent." + +"Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession. Don't you know me by this +time?" he said, laughing. "Discretion is my lot." + +Jules showed him the letter. + +"You must read me this letter, addressed to my wife." + +"The deuce! the deuce! a bad business!" said Jacquet, examining the +letter as a usurer examines a note to be negotiated. "Ha! that's a +gridiron letter! Wait a minute." + +He left Jules alone for a moment, but returned immediately. + +"Easy enough to read, my friend! It is written on the gridiron plan, +used by the Portuguese minister under Monsieur de Choiseul, at the +time of the dismissal of the Jesuits. Here, see!" + +Jacquet placed upon the writing a piece of paper cut out in regular +squares, like the paper laces which confectioners wrap round their +sugarplums; and Jules then read with perfect ease the words that were +visible in the interstices. They were as follows:-- + + "Don't be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be + troubled; and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions. + However ill you may be, you must have the courage to come here + to-morrow; find strength in your love for me. Mine for you has + induced me to submit to a cruel operation, and I cannot leave my + bed. I have had the actual cautery applied to my back, and it was + necessary to burn it in a long time; you understand me? But I + thought of you, and I did not suffer. + + "To baffle Maulincour (who will not persecute us much longer), I + have left the protecting roof of the embassy, and am now safe from + all inquiry in the rue des Enfants-Rouges, number 12, with an old + woman, Madame Etienne Gruget, mother of that Ida, who shall pay + dear for her folly. Come to-morrow, at nine in the morning. I am + in a room which is reached only by an interior staircase. Ask for + Monsieur Camuset. Adieu; I kiss your forehead, my darling." + +Jacquet looked at Jules with a sort of honest terror, the sign of a +true compassion, as he made his favorite exclamation in two separate +and distinct tones,-- + +"The deuce! the deuce!" + +"That seems clear to you, doesn't it?" said Jules. "Well, in the +depths of my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes +itself heard above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of +all agony until to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall +know all; I shall be happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me +then, Jacquet." + +"I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o'clock. We will go +together; I'll wait for you, if you like, in the street. You may run +some danger, and you ought to have near you some devoted person who'll +understand a mere sign, and whom you can safely trust. Count on me." + +"Even to help me in killing some one?" + +"The deuce! the deuce!" said Jacquet, repeating, as it were, the same +musical note. "I have two children and a wife." + +Jules pressed his friend's hand and went away; but returned +immediately. + +"I forgot the letter," he said. "But that's not all, I must reseal +it." + +"The deuce! the deuce! you opened it without saving the seal; however, +it is still possible to restore it. Leave it with me and I'll bring it +to you /secundum scripturam/." + +"At what time?" + +"Half-past five." + +"If I am not yet in, give it to the porter and tell him to send it up +to madame." + +"Do you want me to-morrow?" + +"No. Adieu." + +Jules drove at once to the place de la Rotonde du Temple, where he +left his cabriolet and went on foot to the rue des Enfants-Rouges. He +found the house of Madame Etienne Gruget and examined it. There, the +mystery on which depended the fate of so many persons would be cleared +up; there, at this moment, was Ferragus, and to Ferragus all the +threads of this strange plot led. The Gordian knot of the drama, +already so bloody, was surely in a meeting between Madame Jules, her +husband, and that man; and a blade able to cut the closest of such +knots would not be wanting. + +The house was one of those which belong to the class called +/cabajoutis/. This significant name is given by the populace of Paris +to houses which are built, as it were, piecemeal. They are nearly +always composed of buildings originally separate but afterwards united +according to the fancy of the various proprietors who successively +enlarge them; or else they are houses begun, left unfinished, again +built upon, and completed,--unfortunate structures which have passed, +like certain peoples, under many dynasties of capricious masters. +Neither the floors nor the windows have an /ensemble/,--to borrow one +of the most picturesque terms of the art of painting; all is discord, +even the external decoration. The /cabajoutis/ is to Parisian +architecture what the /capharnaum/ is to the apartment,--a poke-hole, +where the most heterogeneous articles are flung pell-mell. + +"Madame Etienne?" asked Jules of the portress. + +This portress had her lodge under the main entrance, in a sort of +chicken coop, or wooden house on rollers, not unlike those sentry- +boxes which the police have lately set up by the stands of hackney- +coaches. + +"Hein?" said the portress, without laying down the stocking she was +knitting. + +In Paris the various component parts which make up the physiognomy of +any given portion of the monstrous city, are admirably in keeping with +its general character. Thus porter, concierge, or Suisse, whatever +name may be given to that essential muscle of the Parisian monster, is +always in conformity with the neighborhood of which he is a part; in +fact, he is often an epitome of it. The lazy porter of the faubourg +Saint-Germain, with lace on every seam of his coat, dabbles in stocks; +he of the Chaussee d'Antin takes his ease, reads the money-articles in +the newspapers, and has a business of his own in the faubourg +Montmartre. The portress in the quarter of prostitution was formerly a +prostitute; in the Marais, she has morals, is cross-grained, and full +of crotchets. + +On seeing Monsieur Jules this particular portress, holding her +knitting in one hand, took a knife and stirred the half-extinguished +peat in her foot-warmer; then she said:-- + +"You want Madame Etienne; do you mean Madame Etienne Gruget?" + +"Yes," said Jules, assuming a vexed air. + +"Who makes trimmings?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, monsieur," she said, issuing from her cage, and laying +her hand on Jules' arm and leading him to the end of a long passage- +way, vaulted like a cellar, "go up the second staircase at the end of +the court-yard--where you will see the windows with the pots of pinks; +that's where Madame Etienne lives." + +"Thank you, madame. Do you think she is alone?" + +"Why shouldn't she be alone? she's a widow." + +Jules hastened up a dark stairway, the steps of which were knobby with +hardened mud left by the feet of those who came and went. On the +second floor he saw three doors but no signs of pinks. Fortunately, on +one of the doors, the oiliest and darkest of the three, he read these +words, chalked on a panel: "Ida will come to-night at nine o'clock." + +"This is the place," thought Jules. + +He pulled an old bellrope, black with age, and heard the smothered +sound of a cracked bell and the barking of an asthmatic little dog. By +the way the sounds echoed from the interior he knew that the rooms +were encumbered with articles which left no space for reverberation,-- +a characteristic feature of the homes of workmen and humble +households, where space and air are always lacking. + +Jules looked out mechanically for the pinks, and found them on the +outer sill of a sash window between two filthy drain-pipes. So here +were flowers; here, a garden, two yards long and six inches wide; +here, a wheat-ear; here, a whole life epitomized; but here, too, all +the miseries of that life. A ray of light falling from heaven as if by +special favor on those puny flowers and the vigorous wheat-ear brought +out in full relief the dust, the grease, and that nameless color, +peculiar to Parisian squalor, made of dirt, which crusted and spotted +the damp walls, the worm-eaten balusters, the disjointed window- +casings, and the door originally red. Presently the cough of an old +woman, and a heavy female step, shuffling painfully in list slippers, +announced the coming of the mother of Ida Gruget. The creature opened +the door and came out upon the landing, looked up, and said:-- + +"Ah! is this Monsieur Bocquillon? Why, no? But perhaps you're his +brother. What can I do for you? Come in, monsieur." + +Jules followed her into the first room, where he saw, huddled +together, cages, household utensils, ovens, furniture, little +earthenware dishes full of food or water for the dog and the cats, a +wooden clock, bed-quilts, engravings of Eisen, heaps of old iron, all +these things mingled and massed together in a way that produced a most +grotesque effect,--a true Parisian dusthole, in which were not lacking +a few old numbers of the "Constitutionel." + +Jules, impelled by a sense of prudence, paid no attention to the +widow's invitation when she said civilly, showing him an inner room:-- + +"Come in here, monsieur, and warm yourself." + +Fearing to be overheard by Ferragus, Jules asked himself whether it +were not wisest to conclude the arrangement he had come to make with +the old woman in the crowded antechamber. A hen, which descended +cackling from a loft, roused him from this inward meditation. He came +to a resolution, and followed Ida's mother into the inner room, +whither they were accompanied by the wheezy pug, a personage otherwise +mute, who jumped upon a stool. Madame Gruget showed the assumption of +semi-pauperism when she invited her visitor to warm himself. Her fire- +pot contained, or rather concealed two bits of sticks, which lay +apart: the grating was on the ground, its handle in the ashes. The +mantel-shelf, adorned with a little wax Jesus under a shade of squares +of glass held together with blue paper, was piled with wools, bobbins, +and tools used in the making of gimps and trimmings. Jules examined +everything in the room with a curiosity that was full of interest, and +showed, in spite of himself, an inward satisfaction. + +"Well, monsieur, tell me, do you want to buy any of my things?" said +the old woman, seating herself in a cane arm-chair, which appeared to +be her headquarters. In it she kept her handkerchief, snuffbox, +knitting, half-peeled vegetables, spectacles, calendar, a bit of +livery gold lace just begun, a greasy pack of cards, and two volumes +of novels, all stuck into the hollow of the back. This article of +furniture, in which the old creature was floating down the river of +life, was not unlike the encyclopedic bag which a woman carries with +her when she travels; in which may be found a compendium of her +household belongings, from the portrait of her husband to /eau de +Melisse/ for faintness, sugarplums for the children, and English +court-plaster in case of cuts. + +Jules studied all. He looked attentively at Madame Gruget's yellow +visage, at her gray eyes without either brows or lashes, her toothless +mouth, her wrinkles marked in black, her rusty cap, her still more +rusty ruffles, her cotton petticoat full of holes, her worn-out +slippers, her disabled fire-pot, her table heaped with dishes and +silks and work begun or finished, in wool or cotton, in the midst of +which stood a bottle of wine. Then he said to himself: "This old woman +has some passion, some strong liking or vice; I can make her do my +will." + +"Madame," he said aloud, with a private sign of intelligence, "I have +come to order some livery trimmings." Then he lowered his voice. "I +know," he continued, "that you have a lodger who has taken the name of +Camuset." The old woman looked at him suddenly, but without any sign +of astonishment. "Now, tell me, can we come to an understanding? This +is a question which means fortune for you." + +"Monsieur," she replied, "speak out, and don't be afraid. There's no +one here. But if I had any one above, it would be impossible for him +to hear you." + +"Ha! the sly old creature, she answers like a Norman," thought Jules, +"We shall agree. Do not give yourself the trouble to tell falsehoods, +madame," he resumed, "In the first place, let me tell you that I mean +no harm either to you or to your lodger who is suffering from cautery, +or to your daughter Ida, a stay-maker, the friend of Ferragus. You +see, I know all your affairs. Do not be uneasy; I am not a detective +policeman, nor do I desire anything that can hurt your conscience. A +young lady will come here to-morrow-morning at half-past nine o'clock, +to talk with this lover of your daughter. I want to be where I can see +all and hear all, without being seen or heard by them. If you will +furnish me with the means of doing so, I will reward that service with +the gift of two thousand francs and a yearly stipend of six hundred. +My notary shall prepare a deed before you this evening, and I will +give him the money to hold; he will pay the two thousand to you +to-morrow after the conference at which I desire to be present, as you +will then have given proofs of your good faith." + +"Will it injure my daughter, my good monsieur?" she asked, casting a +cat-like glance of doubt and uneasiness upon him. + +"In no way, madame. But, in any case, it seems to me that your +daughter does not treat you well. A girl who is loved by so rich a man +as Ferragus ought to make you more comfortable than you seem to be." + +"Ah, my dear monsieur, just think, not so much as one poor ticket to +the Ambigu, or the Gaiete, where she can go as much as she likes. It's +shameful! A girl for whom I sold my silver forks and spoons! and now I +eat, at my age, with German metal,--and all to pay for her +apprenticeship, and give her a trade, where she could coin money if +she chose. As for that, she's like me, clever as a witch; I must do +her that justice. But, I will say, she might give me her old silk +gowns,--I, who am so fond of wearing silk. But no! Monsieur, she dines +at the Cadran-Bleu at fifty francs a head, and rolls in her carriage +as if she were a princess, and despises her mother for a Colin-Lampon. +Heavens and earth! what heedless young ones we've brought into the +world; we have nothing to boast of there. A mother, monsieur, can't be +anything else but a good mother; and I've concealed that girl's ways, +and kept her in my bosom, to take the bread out of my mouth and cram +everything into her own. Well, well! and now she comes and fondles one +a little, and says, 'How d'ye do, mother?' And that's all the duty she +thinks of paying. But she'll have children one of these days, and then +she'll find out what it is to have such baggage,--which one can't help +loving all the same." + +"Do you mean that she does nothing for you?" + +"Ah, nothing? No, monsieur, I didn't say that; if she did nothing, +that would be a little too much. She gives me my rent and thirty-six +francs a month. But, monsieur, at my age,--and I'm fifty-two years +old, with eyes that feel the strain at night,--ought I to be working +in this way? Besides, why won't she have me to live with her? I should +shame her, should I? Then let her say so. Faith, one ought to be +buried out of the way of such dogs of children, who forget you before +they've even shut the door." + +She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, and with it a lottery +ticket that dropped on the floor; but she hastily picked it up, +saying, "Hi! that's the receipt for my taxes." + +Jules at once perceived the reason of the sagacious parsimony of which +the mother complained; and he was the more certain that the widow +Gruget would agree to the proposed bargain. + +"Well, then, madame," he said, "accept what I offer you." + +"Did you say two thousand francs in ready money, and six hundred +annuity, monsieur?" + +"Madame, I've changed my mind; I will promise you only three hundred +annuity. This way seems more to my own interests. But I will give you +five thousand francs in ready money. Wouldn't you like that as well?" + +"Bless me, yes, monsieur!" + +"You'll get more comfort out of it; and you can go to the Ambigu and +Franconi's at your ease in a coach." + +"As for Franconi, I don't like that, for they don't talk there. +Monsieur, if I accept, it is because it will be very advantageous for +my child. I sha'n't be a drag on her any longer. Poor little thing! +I'm glad she has her pleasures, after all. Ah, monsieur, youth must be +amused! And so, if you assure me that no harm will come to anybody--" + +"Not to anybody," replied Jules. "But now, how will you manage it?" + +"Well, monsieur, if I give Monsieur Ferragus a little tea made of +poppy-heads to-night, he'll sleep sound, the dear man; and he needs +it, too, because of his sufferings, for he does suffer, I can tell +you, and more's the pity. But I'd like to know what a healthy man like +him wants to burn his back for, just to get rid of a tic douleureux +which troubles him once in two years. However, to come back to our +business. I have my neighbor's key; her lodging is just above mine, +and in it there's a room adjoining the one where Monsieur Ferragus is, +with only a partition between them. My neighbor is away in the country +for ten days. Therefore, if I make a hole to-night while Monsieur +Ferragus is sound asleep, you can see and hear them to-morrow at your +ease. I'm on good terms with a locksmith,--a very friendly man, who +talks like an angel, and he'll do the work for me and say nothing +about it." + +"Then here's a hundred francs for him. Come to-night to Monsieur +Desmaret's office; he's a notary, and here's his address. At nine +o'clock the deed will be ready, but--silence!" + +"Enough, monsieur; as you say--silence! Au revoir, monsieur." + +Jules went home, almost calmed by the certainty that he should know +the truth on the morrow. As he entered the house, the porter gave him +the letter properly resealed. + +"How do you feel now?" he said to his wife, in spite of the coldness +that separated them. + +"Pretty well, Jules," she answered in a coaxing voice, "do come and +dine beside me." + +"Very good," he said, giving her the letter. "Here is something +Fouguereau gave me for you." + +Clemence, who was very pale, colored high when she saw the letter, and +that sudden redness was a fresh blow to her husband. + +"Is that joy," he said, laughing, "or the effect of expectation?" + +"Oh, of many things!" she said, examining the seal. + +"I leave you now for a few moments." + +He went down to his study, and wrote to his brother, giving him +directions about the payment to the widow Gruget. When he returned, he +found his dinner served on a little table by his wife's bedside, and +Josephine ready to wait on him. + +"If I were up how I should like to serve you myself," said Clemence, +when Josephine had left them. "Oh, yes, on my knees!" she added, +passing her white hands through her husband's hair. "Dear, noble +heart, you were very kind and gracious to me just now. You did me more +good by showing me such confidence than all the doctors on earth could +do me with their prescriptions. That feminine delicacy of yours--for +you do know how to love like a woman--well, it has shed a balm into my +heart which has almost cured me. There's truce between us, Jules; +lower your head, that I may kiss it." + +Jules could not deny himself the pleasure of that embrace. But it was +not without a feeling of remorse in his heart; he felt himself small +before this woman whom he was still tempted to think innocent. A sort +of melancholy joy possessed him. A tender hope shone on her features +in spite of their grieved expression. They both were equally unhappy +in deceiving each other; another caress, and, unable to resist their +suffering, all would then have been avowed. + +"To-morrow evening, Clemence." + +"No, no; to-morrow morning, by twelve o'clock, you will know all, and +you'll kneel down before your wife--Oh, no! you shall not be +humiliated; you are all forgiven now; you have done no wrong. Listen, +Jules; yesterday you did crush me--harshly; but perhaps my life would +not have been complete without that agony; it may be a shadow that +will make our coming days celestial." + +"You lay a spell upon me," cried Jules; "you fill me with remorse." + +"Poor love! destiny is stronger than we, and I am not the accomplice +of mine. I shall go out to-morrow." + +"At what hour?" asked Jules. + +"At half-past nine." + +"Clemence," he said, "take every precaution; consult Doctor Desplein +and old Haudry." + +"I shall consult nothing but my heart and my courage." + +"I shall leave you free; you will not see me till twelve o'clock." + +"Won't you keep me company this evening? I feel so much better." + +After attending to some business, Jules returned to his wife,-- +recalled by her invincible attraction. His passion was stronger than +his anguish. + +The next day, at nine o'clock Jules left home, hurried to the rue des +Enfants-Rouges, went upstairs, and rang the bell of the widow Gruget's +lodgings. + +"Ah! you've kept your word, as true as the dawn. Come in, monsieur," +said the old woman when she saw him. "I've made you a cup of coffee +with cream," she added, when the door was closed. "Oh! real cream; I +saw it milked myself at the dairy we have in this very street." + +"Thank you, no, madame, nothing. Take me at once--" + +"Very good, monsieur. Follow me, this way." + +She led him up into the room above her own, where she showed him, +triumphantly, an opening about the size of a two-franc piece, made +during the night, in a place, which, in each room, was above a +wardrobe. In order to look through it, Jules was forced to maintain +himself in rather a fatiguing attitude, by standing on a step-ladder +which the widow had been careful to place there. + +"There's a gentleman with him," she whispered, as she retired. + +Jules then beheld a man employed in dressing a number of wounds on the +shoulders of Ferragus, whose head he recognized from the description +given to him by Monsieur de Maulincour. + +"When do you think those wounds will heal?" asked Ferragus. + +"I don't know," said the other man. "The doctors say those wounds will +require seven or eight more dressings." + +"Well, then, good-bye until to-night," said Ferragus, holding out his +hand to the man, who had just replaced the bandage. + +"Yes, to-night," said the other, pressing his hand cordially. "I wish +I could see you past your sufferings." + +"To-morrow Monsieur de Funcal's papers will be delivered to us, and +Henri Bourignard will be dead forever," said Ferragus. "Those fatal +marks which have cost us so dear no longer exist. I shall become once +more a social being, a man among men, and more of a man than the +sailor whom the fishes are eating. God knows it is not for my own sake +I have made myself a Portuguese count!" + +"Poor Gratien!--you, the wisest of us all, our beloved brother, the +Benjamin of the band; as you very well know." + +"Adieu; keep an eye on Maulincour." + +"You can rest easy on that score." + +"Ho! stay, marquis," cried the convict. + +"What is it?" + +"Ida is capable of everything after the scene of last night. If she +should throw herself into the river, I would not fish her out. She +knows the secret of my name, and she'll keep it better there. But +still, look after her; for she is, in her way, a good girl." + +"Very well." + +The stranger departed. Ten minutes later Jules heard, with a feverish +shudder, the rustle of a silk gown, and almost recognized by their +sound the steps of his wife. + +"Well, father," said Clemence, "my poor father, are you better? What +courage you have shown!" + +"Come here, my child," replied Ferragus, holding out his hand to her. + +Clemence held her forehead to him and he kissed it. + +"Now tell me, what is the matter, my little girl? What are these new +troubles?" + +"Troubles, father! it concerns the life or death of the daughter you +have loved so much. Indeed you must, as I wrote you yesterday, you +/must/ find a way to see my poor Jules to-day. If you knew how good he +has been to me, in spite of all suspicions apparently so legitimate. +Father, my love is my very life. Would you see me die? Ah! I have +suffered so much that my life, I feel it! is in danger." + +"And all because of the curiosity of that miserable Parisian?" cried +Ferragus. "I'd burn Paris down if I lost you, my daughter. Ha! you may +know what a lover is, but you don't yet know what a father can do." + +"Father, you frighten me when you look at me in that way. Don't weigh +such different feelings in the same scales. I had a husband before I +knew that my father was living--" + +"If your husband was the first to lay kisses on your forehead, I was +the first to drop tears upon it," replied Ferragus. "But don't feel +frightened, Clemence, speak to me frankly. I love you enough to +rejoice in the knowledge that you are happy, though I, your father, +may have little place in your heart, while you fill the whole of +mine." + +"Ah! what good such words do me! You make me love you more and more, +though I seem to rob something from my Jules. But, my kind father, +think what his sufferings are. What may I tell him to-day?" + +"My child, do you think I waited for your letter to save you from this +threatened danger? Do you know what will become of those who venture +to touch your happiness, or come between us? Have you never been aware +that a second providence was guarding your life? Twelve men of power +and intellect form a phalanx round your love and your existence,-- +ready to do all things to protect you. Think of your father, who has +risked death to meet you in the public promenades, or see you asleep +in your little bed in your mother's home, during the night-time. Could +such a father, to whom your innocent caresses give strength to live +when a man of honor ought to have died to escape his infamy, could +/I/, in short, I who breathe through your lips, and see with your +eyes, and feel with your heart, could I fail to defend with the claws +of a lion and the soul of a father, my only blessing, my life, my +daughter? Since the death of that angel, your mother, I have dreamed +but of one thing,--the happiness of pressing you to my heart in the +face of the whole earth, of burying the convict,--" He paused a +moment, and then added: "--of giving you a father, a father who could +press without shame your husband's hand, who could live without fear +in both your hearts, who could say to all the world, 'This is my +daughter,'--in short, to be a happy father." + +"Oh, father! father!" + +"After infinite difficulty, after searching the whole globe," +continued Ferragus, "my friends have found me the skin of a dead man +in which to take my place once more in social life. A few days hence, +I shall be Monsieur de Funcal, a Portuguese count. Ah! my dear child, +there are few men of my age who would have had the patience to learn +Portuguese and English, which were spoken fluently by that devil of a +sailor, who was drowned at sea." + +"But, my dear father--" + +"All has been foreseen, and prepared. A few days hence, his Majesty +John VI., King of Portugal will be my accomplice. My child, you must +have a little patience where your father has had so much. But ah! what +would I not do to reward your devotion for the last three years,-- +coming religiously to comfort your old father, at the risk of your own +peace!" + +"Father!" cried Clemence, taking his hands and kissing them. + +"Come, my child, have courage still; keep my fatal secret a few days +longer, till the end is reached. Jules is not an ordinary man, I know; +but are we sure that his lofty character and his noble love may not +impel him to dislike the daughter of a--" + +"Oh!" cried Clemence, "you have read my heart; I have no other fear +than that. The very thought turns me to ice," she added, in a heart- +rending tone. "But, father, think that I have promised him the truth +in two hours." + +"If so, my daughter, tell him to go to the Portuguese embassy and see +the Comte de Funcal, your father. I will be there." + +"But Monsieur de Maulincour has told him of Ferragus. Oh, father, what +torture, to deceive, deceive, deceive!" + +"Need you say that to me? But only a few days more, and no living man +will be able to expose me. Besides, Monsieur de Maulincour is beyond +the faculty of remembering. Come, dry your tears, my silly child, and +think--" + +At this instant a terrible cry rang from the room in which Jules +Desmarets was stationed. + +The clamor was heard by Madame Jules and Ferragus through the opening +of the wall, and struck them with terror. + +"Go and see what it means, Clemence," said her father. + +Clemence ran rapidly down the little staircase, found the door into +Madame Gruget's apartment wide open, heard the cries which echoed from +the upper floor, went up the stairs, guided by the noise of sobs, and +caught these words before she entered the fatal chamber:-- + +"You, monsieur, you, with your horrid inventions,--you are the cause +of her death!" + +"Hush, miserable woman!" replied Jules, putting his handkerchief on +the mouth of the old woman, who began at once to cry out, "Murder! +help!" + +At this instant Clemence entered, saw her husband, uttered a cry, and +fled away. + +"Who will save my child?" cried the widow Gruget. "You have murdered +her." + +"How?" asked Jules, mechanically, for he was horror-struck at being +seen by his wife. + +"Read that," said the old woman, giving him a letter. "Can money or +annuities console me for that?" + + Farewell, mother! I bequeeth you what I have. I beg your pardon + for my forlts, and the last greef to which I put you by ending my + life in the river. Henry, who I love more than myself, says I have + made his misfortune, and as he has drifen me away, and I have lost + all my hops of merrying him, I am going to droun myself. I shall + go abov Neuilly, so that they can't put me in the Morg. If Henry + does not hate me anny more after I am ded, ask him to berry a pore + girl whose hart beet for him only, and to forgif me, for I did + rong to meddle in what didn't consern me. Tak care of his wounds. + How much he sufered, pore fellow! I shall have as much corage to + kill myself as he had to burn his bak. Carry home the corsets I + have finished. And pray God for your daughter. + +Ida. + + +"Take this letter to Monsieur de Funcal, who is upstairs," said Jules. +"He alone can save your daughter, if there is still time." + +So saying he disappeared, running like a man who has committed a +crime. His legs trembled. The hot blood poured into his swelling heart +in torrents greater than at any other moment of his life, and left it +again with untold violence. Conflicting thoughts struggled in his +mind, and yet one thought predominated,--he had not been loyal to the +being he loved most. It was impossible for him to argue with his +conscience, whose voice, rising high with conviction, came like an +echo of those inward cries of his love during the cruel hours of doubt +he had lately lived through. + +He spent the greater part of the day wandering about Paris, for he +dared not go home. This man of integrity and honor feared to meet the +spotless brow of the woman he had misjudged. We estimate wrongdoing in +proportion to the purity of our conscience; the deed which is scarcely +a fault in some hearts, takes the proportions of a crime in certain +unsullied souls. The slightest stain on the white garment of a virgin +makes it a thing ignoble as the rags of a mendicant. Between the two +the difference lies in the misfortune of the one, the wrong-doing of +the other. God never measures repentance; he never apportions it. As +much is needed to efface a spot as to obliterate the crimes of a +lifetime. These reflections fell with all their weight on Jules; +passions, like human laws, will not pardon, and their reasoning is +more just; for are they not based upon a conscience of their own as +infallible as an instinct? + +Jules finally came home pale, despondent, crushed beneath a sense of +his wrong-doing, and yet expressing in spite of himself the joy his +wife's innocence had given him. He entered her room all throbbing with +emotion; she was in bed with a high fever. He took her hand, kissed +it, and covered it with tears. + +"Dear angel," he said, when they were alone, "it is repentance." + +"And for what?" she answered. + +As she made that reply, she laid her head back upon the pillow, closed +her eyes, and remained motionless, keeping the secret of her +sufferings that she might not frighten her husband,--the tenderness of +a mother, the delicacy of an angel! All the woman was in her answer. + +The silence lasted long. Jules, thinking her asleep, went to question +Josephine as to her mistress's condition. + +"Madame came home half-dead, monsieur. We sent at once for Monsieur +Haudry." + +"Did he come? What did he say?" + +"He said nothing, monsieur. He did not seem satisfied; gave orders +that no one should go near madame except the nurse, and said he should +come back this evening." + +Jules returned softly to his wife's room and sat down in a chair +before the bed. There he remained, motionless, with his eyes fixed on +those of Clemence. When she raised her eyelids she saw him, and +through those lids passed a tender glance, full of passionate love, +free from reproach and bitterness,--a look which fell like a flame of +fire upon the heart of that husband, nobly absolved and forever loved +by the being whom he had killed. The presentiment of death struck both +their minds with equal force. Their looks were blended in one anguish, +as their hearts had long been blended in one love, felt equally by +both, and shared equally. No questions were uttered; a horrible +certainty was there,--in the wife an absolute generosity; in the +husband an awful remorse; then, in both souls the same vision of the +end, the same conviction of fatality. + +There came a moment when, thinking his wife asleep, Jules kissed her +softly on the forehead; then after long contemplation of that +cherished face, he said:-- + +"Oh God! leave me this angel still a little while that I may blot out +my wrong by love and adoration. As a daughter, she is sublime; as a +wife, what word can express her?" + +Clemence raised her eyes; they were full of tears. + +"You pain me," she said, in a feeble voice. + +It was getting late; Doctor Haudry came, and requested the husband to +withdraw during his visit. When the doctor left the sick-room Jules +asked him no question; one gesture was enough. + +"Call in consultation any physician in whom you place confidence; I +may be wrong." + +"Doctor, tell me the truth. I am a man, and I can bear it. Besides, I +have the deepest interest in knowing it; I have certain affairs to +settle." + +"Madame Jules is dying," said the physician. "There is some moral +malady which has made great progress, and it has complicated her +physical condition, which was already dangerous, and made still more +so by her great imprudence. To walk about barefooted at night! to go +out when I forbade it! on foot yesterday in the rain, to-day in a +carriage! She must have meant to kill herself. But still, my judgment +is not final; she has youth, and a most amazing nervous strength. It +may be best to risk all to win all by employing some violent reagent. +But I will not take upon myself to order it; nor will I advise it; in +consultation I shall oppose it." + +Jules returned to his wife. For eleven days and eleven nights he +remained beside her bed, taking no sleep during the day when he laid +his head upon the foot of the bed. No man ever pushed the jealousy of +care and the craving for devotion to such an extreme as he. He could +not endure that the slightest service should be done by others for his +wife. There were days of uncertainty, false hopes, now a little +better, then a crisis,--in short, all the horrible mutations of death +as it wavers, hesitates, and finally strikes. Madame Jules always +found strength to smile at her husband. She pitied him, knowing that +soon he would be alone. It was a double death,--that of life, that of +love; but life grew feebler, and love grew mightier. One frightful +night there was, when Clemence passed through that delirium which +precedes the death of youth. She talked of her happy love, she talked +of her father; she related her mother's revelations on her death-bed, +and the obligations that mother had laid upon her. She struggled, not +for life, but for her love which she could not leave. + +"Grant, O God!" she said, "that he may not know I want him to die with +me." + +Jules, unable to bear the scene, was at that moment in the adjoining +room, and did not hear the prayer, which he would doubtless have +fulfilled. + +When this crisis was over, Madame Jules recovered some strength. The +next day she was beautiful and tranquil; hope seemed to come to her; +she adorned herself, as the dying often do. Then she asked to be alone +all day, and sent away her husband with one of those entreaties made +so earnestly that they are granted as we grant the prayer of a little +child. + +Jules, indeed, had need of this day. He went to Monsieur de Maulincour +to demand the satisfaction agreed upon between them. It was not +without great difficulty that he succeeded in reaching the presence of +the author of these misfortunes; but the vidame, when he learned that +the visit related to an affair of honor, obeyed the precepts of his +whole life, and himself took Jules into the baron's chamber. + +Monsieur Desmarets looked about him in search of his antagonist. + +"Yes! that is really he," said the vidame, motioning to a man who was +sitting in an arm-chair beside the fire. + +"Who is it? Jules?" said the dying man in a broken voice. + +Auguste had lost the only faculty that makes us live--memory. Jules +Desmarets recoiled with horror at this sight. He could not even +recognize the elegant young man in that thing without--as Bossuet +said--a name in any language. It was, in truth, a corpse with whitened +hair, its bones scarce covered with a wrinkled, blighted, withered +skin,--a corpse with white eyes motionless, mouth hideously gaping, +like those of idiots or vicious men killed by excesses. No trace of +intelligence remained upon that brow, nor in any feature; nor was +there in that flabby flesh either color or the faintest appearance of +circulating blood. Here was a shrunken, withered creature brought to +the state of those monsters we see preserved in museums, floating in +alchohol. Jules fancied that he saw above that face the terrible head +of Ferragus, and his own anger was silenced by such a vengeance. The +husband found pity in his heart for the vacant wreck of what was once +a man. + +"The duel has taken place," said the vidame. + +"But he has killed many," answered Jules, sorrowfully. + +"And many dear ones," added the old man. "His grandmother is dying; +and I shall follow her soon into the grave." + +On the morrow of this day, Madame Jules grew worse from hour to hour. +She used a moment's strength to take a letter from beneath her pillow, +and gave it eagerly to her husband with a sign that was easy to +understand,--she wished to give him, in a kiss, her last breath. He +took it, and she died. Jules fell half-dead himself and was taken to +his brother's house. There, as he deplored in tears his absence of the +day before, his brother told him that this separation was eagerly +desired by Clemence, who wished to spare him the sight of the +religious paraphernalia, so terrible to tender imaginations, which the +Church displays when conferring the last sacraments upon the dying. + +"You could not have borne it," said his brother. "I could hardly bear +the sight myself, and all the servants wept. Clemence was like a +saint. She gathered strength to bid us all good-bye, and that voice, +heard for the last time, rent our hearts. When she asked pardon for +the pain she might unwillingly have caused her servants, there were +cries and sobs and--" + +"Enough! enough!" said Jules. + +He wanted to be alone, that he might read the last words of the woman +whom all had loved, and who had passed away like a flower. + + "My beloved, this is my last will. Why should we not make wills + for the treasures of our hearts, as for our worldly property? Was + not my love my property, my all? I mean here to dispose of my + love: it was the only fortune of your Clemence, and it is all that + she can leave you in dying. Jules, you love me still, and I die + happy. The doctors may explain my death as they think best; I + alone know the true cause. I shall tell it to you, whatever pain + it may cause you. I cannot carry with me, in a heart all yours, a + secret which you do not share, although I die the victim of an + enforced silence. + + "Jules, I was nurtured and brought up in the deepest solitude, far + from the vices and the falsehoods of the world, by the loving + woman whom you knew. Society did justice to her conventional + charm, for that is what pleases society; but I knew secretly her + precious soul, I could cherish the mother who made my childhood a + joy without bitterness, and I knew why I cherished her. Was not + that to love doubly? Yes, I loved her, I feared her, I respected + her; yet nothing oppressed my heart, neither fear nor respect. I + was all in all to her; she was all in all to me. For nineteen + happy years, without a care, my soul, solitary amid the world + which muttered round me, reflected only her pure image; my heart + beat for her and through her. I was scrupulously pious; I found + pleasure in being innocent before God. My mother cultivated all + noble and self-respecting sentiments in me. Ah! it gives me + happiness to tell you, Jules, that I now know I was indeed a young + girl, and that I came to you virgin in heart. + + "When I left that absolute solitude, when, for the first time, I + braided my hair and crowned it with almond blossoms, when I added, + with delight, a few satin knots to my white dress, thinking of the + world I was to see, and which I was curious to see--Jules, that + innocent and modest coquetry was done for you! Yes, as I entered + the world, I saw /you/ first of all. Your face, I remarked it; it + stood out from the rest; your person pleased me; your voice, your + manners all inspired me with pleasant presentiments. When you came + up, when you spoke to me, the color on your forehead, the tremble + in your voice,--that moment gave me memories with which I throb as + I now write to you, as I now, for the last time, think of them. + Our love was at first the keenest of sympathies, but it was soon + discovered by each of us and then, as speedily, shared; just as, + in after times, we have both equally felt and shared innumerable + happinesses. From that moment my mother was only second in my + heart. Next, I was yours, all yours. There is my life, and all my + life, dear husband. + + "And here is what remains for me to tell you. One evening, a few + days before my mother's death, she revealed to me the secret of + her life,--not without burning tears. I have loved you better + since the day I learned from the priest as he absolved my mother + that there are passions condemned by the world and by the Church. + But surely God will not be severe when they are the sins of souls + as tender as that of my mother; only, that dear woman could never + bring herself to repent. She loved much, Jules; she was all love. + So I have prayed daily for her, but never judged her. + + "That night I learned the cause of her deep maternal tenderness; + then I also learned that there was in Paris a man whose life and + whose love centred on me; that your fortune was his doing, and + that he loved you. I learned also that he was exiled from society + and bore a tarnished name; but that he was more unhappy for me, + for us, than for himself. My mother was all his comfort; she was + dying, and I promised to take her place. With all the ardor of a + soul whose feelings had never been perverted, I saw only the + happiness of softening the bitterness of my mother's last moments, + and I pledged myself to continue her work of secret charity,--the + charity of the heart. The first time that I saw my father was + beside the bed where my mother had just expired. When he raised + his tearful eyes, it was to see in me a revival of his dead hopes. + I had sworn, not to tell a lie, but to keep silence; and that + silence what woman could have broken it? + + "There is my fault, Jules,--a fault which I expiate by death. I + doubted you. But fear is so natural to a woman; above all, a woman + who knows what it is that she may lose. I trembled for our love. + My father's secret seemed to me the death of my happiness; and the + more I loved, the more I feared. I dared not avow this feeling to + my father; it would have wounded him, and in his situation a wound + was agony. But, without a word from me, he shared my fears. That + fatherly heart trembled for my happiness as much as I trembled for + myself; but it dared not speak, obeying the same delicacy that + kept me mute. Yes, Jules, I believed that you could not love the + daughter of Gratien Bourignard as you loved your Clemence. Without + that terror could I have kept back anything from you,--you who + live in every fold of my heart? + + "The day when that odious, unfortunate young officer spoke to you, + I was forced to lie. That day, for the second time in my life, I + knew what pain was; that pain has steadily increased until this + moment, when I speak with you for the last time. What matters now + my father's position? You know all. I could, by the help of my + love, have conquered my illness and borne its sufferings; but I + cannot stifle the voice of doubt. Is it not probable that my + origin would affect the purity of your love and weaken it, + diminish it? That fear nothing has been able to quench in me. + There, Jules, is the cause of my death. I cannot live fearing a + word, a look,--a word you may never say, a look you may never + give; but, I cannot help it, I fear them. I die beloved; there is + my consolation. + + "I have known, for the last three years, that my father and his + friends have well-nigh moved the world to deceive the world. That + I might have a station in life, they have bought a dead man, a + reputation, a fortune, so that a living man might live again, + restored; and all this for you, for us. We were never to have + known of it. Well, my death will save my father from that + falsehood, for he will not survive me. + + "Farewell, Jules, my heart is all here. To show you my love in its + agony of fear, is not that bequeathing my whole soul to you? I + could never have the strength to speak to you; I have only enough + to write. I have just confessed to God the sins of my life. I have + promised to fill my mind with the King of Heaven only; but I must + confess to him who is, for me, the whole of earth. Alas! shall I + not be pardoned for this last sigh between the life that was and + the life that shall be? Farewell, my Jules, my loved one! I go to + God, with whom is Love without a cloud, to whom you will follow + me. There, before his throne, united forever, we may love each + other throughout the ages. This hope alone can comfort me. If I am + worthy of being there at once, I will follow you through life. My + soul shall bear your company; it will wrap you about, for /you/ + must stay here still,--ah! here below. Lead a holy life that you + may the more surely come to me. You can do such good upon this + earth! Is it not an angel's mission for the suffering soul to shed + happiness about him,--to give to others that which he has not? I + bequeath you to the Unhappy. Their smiles, their tears, are the + only ones of which I cannot be jealous. We shall find a charm in + sweet beneficence. Can we not live together still if you would + join my name--your Clemence--in these good works? + + "After loving as we have loved, there is naught but God, Jules. + God does not lie; God never betrays. Adore him only, I charge you! + Lead those who suffer up to him; comfort the sorrowing members of + his Church. Farewell, dear soul that I have filled! I know you; + you will never love again. I may die happy in the thought that + makes all women happy. Yes, my grave will be your heart. After + this childhood I have just related, has not my life flowed on + within that heart? Dead, you will never drive me forth. I am proud + of that rare life! You will know me only in the flower of my + youth; I leave you regrets without disillusions. Jules, it is a + happy death. + + "You, who have so fully understood me, may I ask one thing more of + you,--superfluous request, perhaps, the fulfilment of a woman's + fancy, the prayer of a jealousy we all must feel,--I pray you to + burn all that especially belonged to /us/, destroy our chamber, + annihilate all that is a memory of our happiness. + + "Once more, farewell,--the last farewell! It is all love, and so + will be my parting thought, my parting breath." + +When Jules had read that letter there came into his heart one of those +wild frenzies of which it is impossible to describe the awful anguish. +All sorrows are individual; their effects are not subjected to any +fixed rule. Certain men will stop their ears to hear nothing; some +women close their eyes hoping never to see again; great and splendid +souls are met with who fling themselves into sorrow as into an abyss. +In the matter of despair, all is true. + + + +CHAPTER V + +CONCLUSION + + +Jules escaped from his brother's house and returned home, wishing to +pass the night beside his wife, and see till the last moment that +celestial creature. As he walked along with an indifference to life +known only to those who have reached the last degree of wretchedness, +he thought of how, in India, the law ordained that widows should die; +he longed to die. He was not yet crushed; the fever of his grief was +still upon him. He reached his home and went up into the sacred +chamber; he saw his Clemence on the bed of death, beautiful, like a +saint, her hair smoothly laid upon her forehead, her hands joined, her +body wrapped already in its shroud. Tapers were lighted, a priest was +praying, Josephine kneeling in a corner, wept, and, near the bed, were +two men. One was Ferragus. He stood erect, motionless, gazing at his +daughter with dry eyes; his head you might have taken for bronze: he +did not see Jules. + +The other man was Jacquet,--Jacquet, to whom Madame Jules had been +ever kind. Jacquet felt for her one of those respectful friendships +which rejoice the untroubled heart; a gentle passion; love without its +desires and its storms. He had come to pay his debt of tears, to bid a +long adieu to the wife of his friend, to kiss, for the first time, the +icy brow of the woman he had tacitly made his sister. + +All was silence. Here death was neither terrible as in the churches, +nor pompous as it makes its way along the streets; no, it was death in +the home, a tender death; here were pomps of the heart, tears drawn +from the eyes of all. Jules sat down beside Jacquet and pressed his +hand; then, without uttering a word, all these persons remained as +they were till morning. + +When daylight paled the tapers, Jacquet, foreseeing the painful scenes +which would then take place, drew Jules away into another room. At +this moment the husband looked at the father, and Ferragus looked at +Jules. The two sorrows arraigned each other, measured each other, and +comprehended each other in that look. A flash of fury shone for an +instant in the eyes of Ferragus. + +"You killed her," thought he. + +"Why was I distrusted?" seemed the answer of the husband. + +The scene was one that might have passed between two tigers +recognizing the futility of a struggle and, after a moment's +hesitation, turning away, without even a roar. + +"Jacquet," said Jules, "have you attended to everything?" + +"Yes, to everything," replied his friend, "but a man had forestalled +me who had ordered and paid for all." + +"He tears his daughter from me!" cried the husband, with the violence +of despair. + +Jules rushed back to his wife's room; but the father was there no +longer. Clemence had now been placed in a leaden coffin, and workmen +were employed in soldering the cover. Jules returned, horrified by the +sight; the sound of the hammers the men were using made him +mechanically burst into tears. + +"Jacquet," he said, "out of this dreadful night one idea has come to +me, only one, but one I must make a reality at any price. I cannot let +Clemence stay in any cemetery in Paris. I wish to burn her,--to gather +her ashes and keep her with me. Say nothing of this, but manage on my +behalf to have it done. I am going to /her/ chamber, where I shall +stay until the time has come to go. You alone may come in there to +tell me what you have done. Go, and spare nothing." + +During the morning, Madame Jules, after lying in a mortuary chapel at +the door of her house, was taken to Saint-Roch. The church was hung +with black throughout. The sort of luxury thus displayed had drawn a +crowd; for in Paris all things are sights, even true grief. There are +people who stand at their windows to see how a son deplores a mother +as he follows her body; there are others who hire commodious seats to +see how a head is made to fall. No people in the world have such +insatiate eyes as the Parisians. On this occasion, inquisitive minds +were particularly surprised to see the six lateral chapels at Saint- +Roch also hung in black. Two men in mourning were listening to a +mortuary mass said in each chapel. In the chancel no other persons but +Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, and Jacquet were present; the servants +of the household were outside the screen. To church loungers there was +something inexplicable in so much pomp and so few mourners. But Jules +had been determined that no indifferent persons should be present at +the ceremony. + +High mass was celebrated with the sombre magnificence of funeral +services. Beside the ministers in ordinary of Saint-Roch, thirteen +priests from other parishes were present. Perhaps never did the /Dies +irae/ produce upon Christians, assembled by chance, by curiosity, and +thirsting for emotions, an effect so profound, so nervously glacial as +that now caused by this hymn when the eight voices of the precentors, +accompanied by the voices of the priests and the choir-boys, intoned +it alternately. From the six lateral chapels twelve other childish +voices rose shrilly in grief, mingling with the choir voices +lamentably. From all parts of the church this mourning issued; cries +of anguish responded to the cries of fear. That terrible music was the +voice of sorrows hidden from the world, of secret friendships weeping +for the dead. Never, in any human religion, have the terrors of the +soul, violently torn from the body and stormily shaken in presence of +the fulminating majesty of God, been rendered with such force. Before +that clamor of clamors all artists and their most passionate +compositions must bow humiliated. No, nothing can stand beside that +hymn, which sums all human passions, gives them a galvanic life beyond +the coffin, and leaves them, palpitating still, before the living and +avenging God. These cries of childhood, mingling with the tones of +older voices, including thus in the Song of Death all human life and +its developments, recalling the sufferings of the cradle, swelling to +the griefs of other ages in the stronger male voices and the quavering +of the priests,--all this strident harmony, big with lightning and +thunderbolts, does it not speak with equal force to the daring +imagination, the coldest heart, nay, to philosophers themselves? As we +hear it, we think God speaks; the vaulted arches of no church are mere +material; they have a voice, they tremble, they scatter fear by the +might of their echoes. We think we see unnumbered dead arising and +holding out their hands. It is no more a father, a wife, a child,-- +humanity itself is rising from its dust. + +It is impossible to judge of the catholic, apostolic, and Roman faith, +unless the soul has known that deepest grief of mourning for a loved +one lying beneath the pall; unless it has felt the emotions that fill +the heart, uttered by that Hymn of Despair, by those cries that crush +the mind, by that sacred fear augmenting strophe by strophe, ascending +heavenward, which terrifies, belittles, and elevates the soul, and +leaves within our minds, as the last sound ceases, a consciousness of +immortality. We have met and struggled with the vast idea of the +Infinite. After that, all is silent in the church. No word is said; +sceptics themselves /know not what they are feeling/. Spanish genius +alone was able to bring this untold majesty to untold griefs. + +When the solemn ceremony was over, twelve men came from the six +chapels and stood around the coffin to hear the song of hope which the +Church intones for the Christian soul before the human form is buried. +Then, each man entered alone a mourning-coach; Jacquet and Monsieur +Desmarets took the thirteenth; the servants followed on foot. An hour +later, they were at the summit of that cemetery popularly called Pere- +Lachaise. The unknown twelve men stood in a circle round the grave, +where the coffin had been laid in presence of a crowd of loiterers +gathered from all parts of this public garden. After a few short +prayers the priest threw a handful of earth on the remains of this +woman, and the grave-diggers, having asked for their fee, made haste +to fill the grave in order to dig another. + +Here this history seems to end; but perhaps it would be incomplete if, +after giving a rapid sketch of Parisian life, and following certain of +its capricious undulations, the effects of death were omitted. Death +in Paris is unlike death in any other capital; few persons know the +trials of true grief in its struggle with civilization, and the +government of Paris. Perhaps, also, Monsieur Jules and Ferragus XXIII. +may have proved sufficiently interesting to make a few words on their +after life not entirely out of place. Besides, some persons like to be +told all, and wish, as one of our cleverest critics has remarked, to +know by what chemical process oil was made to burn in Aladdin's lamp. + +Jacquet, being a government employee, naturally applied to the +authorities for permission to exhume the body of Madame Jules and burn +it. He went to see the prefect of police, under whose protection the +dead sleep. That functionary demanded a petition. The blank was +brought that gives to sorrow its proper administrative form; it was +necessary to employ the bureaucratic jargon to express the wishes of a +man so crushed that words, perhaps, were lacking to him, and it was +also necessary to coldly and briefly repeat on the margin the nature +of the request, which was done in these words: "The petitioner +respectfully asks for the incineration of his wife." + +When the official charged with making the report to the Councillor of +State and prefect of police read that marginal note, explaining the +object of the petition, and couched, as requested, in the plainest +terms, he said:-- + +"This is a serious matter! my report cannot be ready under eight +days." + +Jules, to whom Jacquet was obliged to speak of this delay, +comprehended the words that Ferragus had said in his hearing, "I'll +burn Paris!" Nothing seemed to him now more natural than to annihilate +that receptacle of monstrous things. + +"But," he said to Jacquet, "you must go to the minister of the +Interior, and get your minister to speak to him." + +Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; +it was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet +was a persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally +reached the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom +he had made the private secretary of his own minister say a word. +These high protectors aiding, he obtained for the morrow a second +interview, in which, being armed with a line from the autocrat of +Foreign affairs to the pacha of the Interior, Jacquet hoped to carry +the matter by assault. He was ready with reasons, and answers to +peremptory questions,--in short, he was armed at all points; but he +failed. + +"This matter does not concern me," said the minister; "it belongs to +the prefect of police. Besides, there is no law giving a husband any +legal right to the body of his wife, nor to fathers those of their +children. The matter is serious. There are questions of public utility +involved which will have to be examined. The interests of the city of +Paris might suffer. Therefore if the matter depended on me, which it +does not, I could not decide /hic et nunc/; I should require a +report." + +A /report/ is to the present system of administration what limbo or +hades is to Christianity. Jacquet knew very well the mania for +"reports"; he had not waited until this occasion to groan at that +bureaucratic absurdity. He knew that since the invasion into public +business of the /Report/ (an administrative revolution consummated in +1804) there was never known a single minister who would take upon +himself to have an opinion or to decide the slightest matter, unless +that opinion or matter had been winnowed, sifted, and plucked to bits +by the paper-spoilers, quill-drivers, and splendid intellects of his +particular bureau. Jacquet--he was one of those who are worthy of +Plutarch as biographer--saw that he had made a mistake in his +management of the affair, and had, in fact, rendered it impossible by +trying to proceed legally. The thing he should have done was to have +taken Madame Jules to one of Desmaret's estates in the country; and +there, under the good-natured authority of some village mayor to have +gratified the sorrowful longing of his friend. Law, constitutional and +administrative, begets nothing; it is a barren monster for peoples, +for kings, and for private interests. But the peoples decipher no +principles but those that are writ in blood, and the evils of legality +will always be pacific; it flattens a nation down, that is all. +Jacquet, a man of modern liberty, returned home reflecting on the +benefits of arbitrary power. + +When he went with his report to Jules, he found it necessary to +deceive him, for the unhappy man was in a high fever, unable to leave +his bed. The minister of the Interior mentioned, at a ministerial +dinner that same evening, the singular fancy of a Parisian in wishing +to burn his wife after the manner of the Romans. The clubs of Paris +took up the subject, and talked for a while of the burials of +antiquity. Ancient things were just then becoming a fashion, and some +persons declared that it would be a fine thing to re-establish, for +distinguished persons, the funeral pyre. This opinion had its +defenders and its detractors. Some said that there were too many such +personages, and the price of wood would be enormously increased by +such a custom; moreover, it would be absurd to see our ancestors in +their urns in the procession at Longchamps. And if the urns were +valuable, they were likely some day to be sold at auction, full of +respectable ashes, or seized by creditors,--a race of men who +respected nothing. The other side made answer that our ancestors were +much safer in urns than at Pere-Lachaise, for before very long the +city of Paris would be compelled to order a Saint-Bartholomew against +its dead, who were invading the neighboring country, and threatening +to invade the territory of Brie. It was, in short, one of those futile +but witty discussions which sometimes cause deep and painful wounds. +Happily for Jules, he knew nothing of the conversations, the witty +speeches, and arguments which his sorrow had furnished to the tongues +of Paris. + +The prefect of police was indignant that Monsieur Jacquet had appealed +to a minister to avoid the wise delays of the commissioners of the +public highways; for the exhumation of Madame Jules was a question +belonging to that department. The police bureau was doing its best to +reply promptly to the petition; one appeal was quite sufficient to set +the office in motion, and once in motion matters would go far. But as +for the administration, that might take the case before the Council of +state,--a machine very difficult indeed to move. + +After the second day Jacquet was obliged to tell his friend that he +must renounce his desire, because, in a city where the number of tears +shed on black draperies is tariffed, where the laws recognize seven +classes of funerals, where the scrap of ground to hold the dead is +sold at its weight in silver, where grief is worked for what it is +worth, where the prayers of the Church are costly, and the vestry +claim payment for extra voices in the /Dies irae/,--all attempt to get +out of the rut prescribed by the authorities for sorrow is useless and +impossible. + +"It would have been to me," said Jules, "a comfort in my misery. I +meant to have died away from here, and I hoped to hold her in my arms +in a distant grave. I did not know that bureaucracy could send its +claws into our very coffins." + +He now wished to see if room had been left for him beside his wife. +The two friends went to the cemetery. When they reached it they found +(as at the doors of museums, galleries, and coach-offices) /ciceroni/, +who proposed to guide them through the labyrinth of Pere-Lachaise. +Neither Jules nor Jacquet could have found the spot where Clemence +lay. Ah, frightful anguish! They went to the lodge to consult the +porter of the cemetery. The dead have a porter, and there are hours +when the dead are "not receiving." It is necessary to upset all the +rules and regulations of the upper and lower police to obtain +permission to weep at night, in silence and solitude, over the grave +where a loved one lies. There's a rule for summer and a rule for +winter about this. + +Certainly, of all the porters in Paris, the porter of Pere-Lachaise is +the luckiest. In the first place, he has no gate-cord to pull; then, +instead of a lodge, he has a house,--an establishment which is not +quite ministerial, although a vast number of persons come under his +administration, and a good many employees. And this governor of the +dead has a salary, with emoluments, and acts under powers of which +none complain; he plays despot at his ease. His lodge is not a place +of business, though it has departments where the book-keeping of +receipts, expenses, and profits, is carried on. The man is not a +/suisse/, nor a concierge, nor actually a porter. The gate which +admits the dead stands wide open; and though there are monuments and +buildings to be cared for, he is not a care-taker. In short, he is an +indefinable anomaly, an authority which participates in all, and yet +is nothing,--an authority placed, like the dead on whom it is based, +outside of all. Nevertheless, this exceptional man grows out of the +city of Paris,--that chimerical creation like the ship which is its +emblem, that creature of reason moving on a thousand paws which are +seldom unanimous in motion. + +This guardian of the cemetery may be called a concierge who has +reached the condition of a functionary, not soluble by dissolution! +His place is far from being a sinecure. He does not allow any one to +be buried without a permit; he must count his dead. He points out to +you in this vast field the six feet square of earth where you will one +day put all you love, or all you hate, a mistress, or a cousin. Yes, +remember this: all the feelings and emotions of Paris come to end +here, at this porter's lodge, where they are administrationized. This +man has registers in which his dead are booked; they are in their +graves, and also on his records. He has under him keepers, gardeners, +grave-diggers, and their assistants. He is a personage. Mourning +hearts do not speak to him at first. He does not appear at all except +in serious cases, such as one corpse mistaken for another, a murdered +body, an exhumation, a dead man coming to life. The bust of the +reigning king is in his hall; possibly he keeps the late royal, +imperial, and quasi-royal busts in some cupboard,--a sort of little +Pere-Lachaise all ready for revolutions. In short, he is a public man, +an excellent man, good husband and good father,--epitaph apart. But so +many diverse sentiments have passed before him on biers; he has seen +so many tears, true and false; he has beheld sorrow under so many +aspects and on so many faces; he has heard such endless thousands of +eternal woes,--that to him sorrow has come to be nothing more than a +stone an inch thick, four feet long, and twenty-four inches wide. As +for regrets, they are the annoyances of his office; he neither +breakfasts nor dines without first wiping off the rain of an +inconsolable affliction. He is kind and tender to other feelings; he +will weep over a stage-hero, over Monsieur Germeuil in the "Auberge +des Adrets," the man with the butter-colored breeches, murdered by +Macaire; but his heart is ossified in the matter of real dead men. +Dead men are ciphers, numbers, to him; it is his business to organize +death. Yet he does meet, three times in a century, perhaps, with an +occasion when his part becomes sublime, and then he /is/ sublime +through every hour of his day,--in times of pestilence. + +When Jacquet approached him this absolute monarch was evidently out of +temper. + +"I told you," he was saying, "to water the flowers from the rue +Massena to the place Regnault de Saint-Jean-d'Angely. You paid no +attention to me! /Sac-a-papier/! suppose the relations should take it +into their heads to come here to-day because the weather is fine, what +would they say to me? They'd shriek as if they were burned; they'd say +horrid things of us, and calumniate us--" + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, "we want to know where Madame Jules is +buried." + +"Madame Jules /who/?" he asked. "We've had three Madame Jules within +the last week. Ah," he said, interrupting himself, "here comes the +funeral of Monsieur le Baron de Maulincour! A fine procession, that! +He has soon followed his grandmother. Some families, when they begin +to go, rattle down like a wager. Lots of bad blood in Parisians." + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, touching him on the arm, "the person I spoke +of is Madame Jules Desmarets, the wife of the broker of that name." + +"Ah, I know!" he replied, looking at Jacquet. "Wasn't it a funeral +with thirteen mourning coaches, and only one mourner in the twelve +first? It was so droll we all noticed it--" + +"Monsieur, take care, Monsieur Desmarets is with me; he might hear +you, and what you say is not seemly." + +"I beg pardon, monsieur! you are quite right. Excuse me, I took you +for heirs. Monsieur," he continued, after consulting a plan of the +cemetery, "Madame Jules is in the rue Marechal Lefebre, alley No. 4, +between Mademoiselle Raucourt, of the Comedie-Francaise, and Monsieur +Moreau-Malvin, a butcher, for whom a handsome tomb in white marble has +been ordered, which will be one of the finest in the cemetery--" + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, interrupting him, "that does not help us." + +"True," said the official, looking round him. "Jean," he cried, to a +man whom he saw at a little distance, "conduct these gentlemen to the +grave of Madame Jules Desmarets, the broker's wife. You know where it +is,--near to Mademoiselle Raucourt, the tomb where there's a bust." + +The two friends followed the guide; but they did not reach the steep +path which leads to the upper part of the cemetery without having to +pass through a score of proposals and requests, made, with honied +softness, by the touts of marble-workers, iron-founders, and +monumental sculptors. + +"If monsieur would like to order /something/, we would do it on the +most reasonable terms." + +Jacquet was fortunate enough to be able to spare his friend the +hearing of these proposals so agonizing to bleeding hearts; and +presently they reached the resting-place. When Jules beheld the earth +so recently dug, into which the masons had stuck stakes to mark the +place for the stone posts required to support the iron railing, he +turned, and leaned upon Jacquet's shoulder, raising himself now and +again to cast long glances at the clay mound where he was forced to +leave the remains of the being in and by whom he still lived. + +"How miserably she lies there!" he said. + +"But she is not there," said Jacquet, "she is in your memory. Come, +let us go; let us leave this odious cemetery, where the dead are +adorned like women for a ball." + +"Suppose we take her away?" + +"Can it be done?" + +"All things can be done!" cried Jules. "So, I shall lie there," he +added, after a pause. "There is room enough." + +Jacquet finally succeeded in getting him to leave the great enclosure, +divided like a chessboard by iron railings and elegant compartments, +in which were tombs decorated with palms, inscriptions, and tears as +cold as the stones on which sorrowing hearts had caused to be carved +their regrets and coats of arms. Many good words are there engraved in +black letters, epigrams reproving the curious, /concetti/, wittily +turned farewells, rendezvous given at which only one side appears, +pretentious biographies, glitter, rubbish and tinsel. Here the +floriated thyrsus, there a lance-head, farther on Egyptian urns, now +and then a few cannon; on all sides the emblems of professions, and +every style of art,--Moorish, Greek, Gothic,--friezes, ovules, +paintings, vases, guardian-angels, temples, together with innumerable +/immortelles/, and dead rose-bushes. It is a forlorn comedy! It is +another Paris, with its streets, its signs, its industries, and its +lodgings; but a Paris seen through the diminishing end of an opera- +glass, a microscopic Paris reduced to the littleness of shadows, +spectres, dead men, a human race which no longer has anything great +about it, except its vanity. There Jules saw at his feet, in the long +valley of the Seine, between the slopes of Vaugirard and Meudon and +those of Belleville and Montmartre, the real Paris, wrapped in a misty +blue veil produced by smoke, which the sunlight tendered at that +moment diaphanous. He glanced with a constrained eye at those forty +thousand houses, and said, pointing to the space comprised between the +column of the Place Vendome and the gilded cupola of the Invalides:-- + +"She was wrenched from me there by the fatal curiosity of that world +which excites itself and meddles solely for excitement and +occupation." + +Twelve miles from where they were, on the banks of the Seine, in a +modest village lying on the slope of a hill of that long hilly basin +the middle of which great Paris stirs like a child in its cradle, a +death scene was taking place, far indeed removed from Parisian pomps, +with no accompaniment of torches or tapers or mourning-coaches, +without prayers of the Church, in short, a death in all simplicity. +Here are the facts: The body of a young girl was found early in the +morning, stranded on the river-bank in the slime and reeds of the +Seine. Men employed in dredging sand saw it as they were getting into +their frail boat on their way to their work. + +"/Tiens/! fifty francs earned!" said one of them. + +"True," said the other. + +They approached the body. + +"A handsome girl! We had better go and make our statement." + +And the two dredgers, after covering the body with their jackets, went +to the house of the village mayor, who was much embarrassed at having +to make out the legal papers necessitated by this discovery. + +The news of this event spread with the telegraphic rapidity peculiar +to regions where social communications have no distractions, where +gossip, scandal, calumny, in short, the social tale which feasts the +world has no break of continuity from one boundary to another. Before +long, persons arriving at the mayor's office released him from all +embarrassment. They were able to convert the /proces-verbal/ into a +mere certificate of death, by recognizing the body as that of the +Demoiselle Ida Gruget, corset-maker, living rue de la Corderie-du- +Temple, number 14. The judiciary police of Paris arrived, and the +mother, bearing her daughter's last letter. Amid the mother's moans, a +doctor certified to death by asphyxia, through the injection of black +blood into the pulmonary system,--which settled the matter. The +inquest over, and the certificates signed, by six o'clock the same +evening authority was given to bury the grisette. The rector of the +parish, however, refused to receive her into the church or to pray for +her. Ida Gruget was therefore wrapped in a shroud by an old peasant- +woman, put into a common pine-coffin, and carried to the village +cemetery by four men, followed by a few inquisitive peasant-women, who +talked about the death with wonder mingled with some pity. + +The widow Gruget was charitably taken in by an old lady who prevented +her from following the sad procession of her daughter's funeral. A man +of triple functions, the bell-ringer, beadle, and grave-digger of the +parish, had dug a grave in the half-acre cemetery behind the church,-- +a church well known, a classic church, with a square tower and pointed +roof covered with slate, supported on the outside by strong corner +buttresses. Behind the apse of the chancel, lay the cemetery, enclosed +with a dilapidated wall,--a little field full of hillocks; no marble +monuments, no visitors, but surely in every furrow, tears and true +regrets, which were lacking to Ida Gruget. She was cast into a corner +full of tall grass and brambles. After the coffin had been laid in +this field, so poetic in its simplicity, the grave-digger found +himself alone, for night was coming on. While filling the grave, he +stopped now and then to gaze over the wall along the road. He was +standing thus, resting on his spade, and looking at the Seine, which +had brought him the body. + +"Poor girl!" cried the voice of a man who suddenly appeared. + +"How you made me jump, monsieur," said the grave-digger. + +"Was any service held over the body you are burying?" + +"No, monsieur. Monsieur le cure wasn't willing. This is the first +person buried here who didn't belong to the parish. Everybody knows +everybody else in this place. Does monsieur--Why, he's gone!" + +Some days had elapsed when a man dressed in black called at the house +of Monsieur Jules Desmarets, and without asking to see him carried up +to the chamber of his wife a large porphyry vase, on which were +inscribed the words:-- + + + INVITA LEGE + CONJUGI MOERENTI + FILIOLAE CINERES + RESTITUIT + AMICIS XII. JUVANTIBUS + MORIBUNDUS PATER. + + +"What a man!" cried Jules, bursting into tears. + +Eight days sufficed the husband to obey all the wishes of his wife, +and to arrange his own affairs. He sold his practice to a brother of +Martin Falleix, and left Paris while the authorities were still +discussing whether it was lawful for a citizen to dispose of the body +of his wife. + +***** + +Who has not encountered on the boulevards of Paris, at the turn of a +street, or beneath the arcades of the Palais-Royal, or in any part of +the world where chance may offer him the sight, a being, man or woman, +at whose aspect a thousand confused thoughts spring into his mind? At +that sight we are suddenly interested, either by features of some +fantastic conformation which reveal an agitated life, or by a singular +effect of the whole person, produced by gestures, air, gait, clothes; +or by some deep, intense look; or by other inexpressible signs which +seize our minds suddenly and forcibly without our being able to +explain even to ourselves the cause of our emotion. The next day other +thoughts and other images have carried out of sight that passing +dream. But if we meet the same personage again, either passing at some +fixed hour, like the clerk of a mayor's office, or wandering about the +public promenades, like those individuals who seem to be a sort of +furniture of the streets of Paris, and who are always to be found in +public places, at first representations or noted restaurants,--then +this being fastens himself or herself on our memory, and remains there +like the first volume of a novel the end of which is lost. We are +tempted to question this unknown person, and say, "Who are you?" "Why +are you lounging here?" "By what right do you wear that pleated +ruffle, that faded waistcoat, and carry that cane with an ivory top; +why those blue spectacles; for what reason do you cling to that cravat +of a dead and gone fashion?" Among these wandering creations some +belong to the species of the Greek Hermae; they say nothing to the +soul; /they are there/, and that is all. Why? is known to none. Such +figure are a type of those used by sculptors for the four Seasons, for +Commerce, for Plenty, etc. Some others--former lawyers, old merchants, +elderly generals--move and walk, and yet seem stationary. Like old +trees that are half uprooted by the current of a river, they seem +never to take part in the torrent of Paris, with its youthful, active +crowd. It is impossible to know if their friends have forgotten to +bury them, or whether they have escaped out of their coffins. At any +rate, they have reached the condition of semi-fossils. + +One of these Parisian Melmoths had come within a few days into a +neighborhood of sober, quiet people, who, when the weather is fine, +are invariably to be found in the space which lies between the south +entrance of the Luxembourg and the north entrance of the Observatoire, +--a space without a name, the neutral space of Paris. There, Paris is +no longer; and there, Paris still lingers. The spot is a mingling of +street, square, boulevard, fortification, garden, avenue, high-road, +province, and metropolis; certainly, all of that is to be found there, +and yet the place is nothing of all that,--it is a desert. Around this +spot without a name stand the Foundling hospital, the Bourbe, the +Cochin hospital, the Capucines, the hospital La Rochefoucauld, the +Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the hospital of the Val-de-Grace; in short, all +the vices and all the misfortunes of Paris find their asylum there. +And (that nothing may lack in this philanthropic centre) Science there +studies the tides and longitudes, Monsieur de Chateaubriand has +erected the Marie-Therese Infirmary, and the Carmelites have founded a +convent. The great events of life are represented by bells which ring +incessantly through this desert,--for the mother giving birth, for the +babe that is born, for the vice that succumbs, for the toiler who +dies, for the virgin who prays, for the old man shaking with cold, for +genius self-deluded. And a few steps off is the cemetery of Mont- +Parnasse, where, hour after hour, the sorry funerals of the faubourg +Saint-Marceau wend their way. This esplanade, which commands a view of +Paris, has been taken possession of by bowl-players; it is, in fact, a +sort of bowling green frequented by old gray faces, belonging to +kindly, worthy men, who seem to continue the race of our ancestors, +whose countenances must only be compared with those of their +surroundings. + +The man who had become, during the last few days, an inhabitant of +this desert region, proved an assiduous attendant at these games of +bowls; and must, undoubtedly, be considered the most striking creature +of these various groups, who (if it is permissible to liken Parisians +to the different orders of zoology) belonged to the genus mollusk. The +new-comer kept sympathetic step with the /cochonnet/,--the little bowl +which serves as a goal and on which the interest of the game must +centre. He leaned against a tree when the /cochonnet/ stopped; then, +with the same attention that a dog gives to his master's gestures, he +looked at the other bowls flying through the air, or rolling along the +ground. You might have taken him for the weird and watchful genii of +the /cochonnet/. He said nothing; and the bowl-players--the most +fanatic men that can be encountered among the sectarians of any faith +--had never asked the reason of his dogged silence; in fact, the most +observing of them thought him deaf and dumb. + +When it happened that the distances between the bowls and the +/cochonnet/ had to be measured, the cane of this silent being was used +as a measure, the players coming up and taking it from the icy hands +of the old man and returning it without a word or even a sign of +friendliness. The loan of his cane seemed a servitude to which he had +negatively consented. When a shower fell, he stayed near the +/cochonnet/, the slave of the bowls, and the guardian of the +unfinished game. Rain affected him no more than the fine weather did; +he was, like the players themselves, an intermediary species between a +Parisian who has the lowest intellect of his kind and an animal which +has the highest. + +In other respects, pallid and shrunken, indifferent to his own person, +vacant in mind, he often came bareheaded, showing his sparse white +hair, and his square, yellow, bald skull, like the knee of a beggar +seen through his tattered trousers. His mouth was half-open, no ideas +were in his glance, no precise object appeared in his movements; he +never smiled; he never raised his eyes to heaven, but kept them +habitually on the ground, where he seemed to be looking for something. +At four o'clock an old woman arrived, to take him Heaven knows where; +which she did by towing him along by the arm, as a young girl drags a +wilful goat which still wants to browse by the wayside. This old man +was a horrible thing to see. + +In the afternoon of the day when Jules Desmarets left Paris, his +travelling-carriage, in which he was alone, passed rapidly through the +rue de l'Est, and came out upon the esplanade of the Observatoire at +the moment when the old man, leaning against a tree, had allowed his +cane to be taken from his hand amid the noisy vociferations of the +players, pacifically irritated. Jules, thinking that he recognized +that face, felt an impulse to stop, and at the same instant the +carriage came to a standstill; for the postilion, hemmed in by some +handcarts, had too much respect for the game to call upon the players +to make way for him. + +"It is he!" said Jules, beholding in that human wreck, Ferragus +XXIII., chief of the Devorants. Then, after a pause, he added, "How he +loved her!--Go on, postilion." + + + + +ADDENDUM + + Note: Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is + entitled The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with + the Golden Eyes. In other addendum references all three stories + are usually combined under the title The Thirteen. + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Bourignard, Gratien-Henri-Victor-Jean-Joseph + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + +Desmartes, Jules + Cesar Birotteau + +Desmartes, Madame Jules + Cesar Birotteau + +Desplein + The Atheist's Mass + Cousin Pons + Lost Illusions + The Government Clerks + Pierrette + A Bachelor's Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Honorine + +Gruget, Madame Etienne + The Government Clerks + A Bachelor's Establishment + +Haudry (doctor) + Cesar Birotteau + A Bachelor's Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Cousin Pons + +Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de + Father Goriot + The Duchesse of Langeais + +Marsay, Henri de + The Duchesse of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve + +Maulincour, Baronne de + A Marriage Settlement + +Meynardie, Madame + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + +Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de + Father Goriot + Eugenie Grandet + Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Commission in Lunacy + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Modeste Mignon + The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + +Pamiers, Vidame de + The Duchesse of Langeais + Jealousies of a Country Town + +Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Duchess of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + +Serizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + The Duchesse of Langeais + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac + diff --git a/old/frrgs10.zip b/old/frrgs10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ffcd892 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/frrgs10.zip diff --git a/old/frrgs10h.htm b/old/frrgs10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41a2a92 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/frrgs10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4218 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> + +<html> +<head> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +</head> + +<body bgcolor="#FFFFFF" text="#000000"> + +<h1>**The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac**<br> +#54 in our series by Balzac</h1> +<pre> +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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We need your donations. + + +Ferragus + +by Honore de Balzac + +Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + +February, 1999 [Etext #1649] +[Most recently updated December 29, 2002] + +</pre> +<p>Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com + and Bonnie Sala </p> +<p> </p> +<p></p> +<p></p> +<p>FERRAGUS, + CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS</p> +<p>by HONORE DE BALZAC</p> +<p></p> +<p> Translated By Katharine Prescott Wormeley</p> +<p> </p> +<p></p> +<p> + DEDICATION</p> +<p>To Hector Berlioz.</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 align="center"></h3> +<h3 align="center">PREFACE</h3> +<p>Thirteen men were banded together in Paris under the Empire, all + imbued with one and the same sentiment, all gifted with sufficient + energy to be faithful to the same thought, with sufficient honor among + themselves never to betray one another even if their interests + clashed; and sufficiently wily and politic to conceal the sacred ties + that united them, sufficiently strong to maintain themselves above the + law, bold enough to undertake all things, and fortunate enough to + succeed, nearly always, in their undertakings; having run the greatest + dangers, but keeping silence if defeated; inaccessible to fear; + trembling neither before princes, nor executioners, not even before + innocence; accepting each other for such as they were, without social + prejudices,--criminals, no doubt, but certainly remarkable through + certain of the qualities that make great men, and recruiting their + number only among men of mark. That nothing might be lacking to the + sombre and mysterious poesy of their history, these Thirteen men have + remained to this day unknown; though all have realized the most + chimerical ideas that the fantastic power falsely attributed to the + Manfreds, the Fausts, and the Melmoths can suggest to the imagination. + To-day, they are broken up, or, at least, dispersed; they have + peaceably put their necks once more under the yoke of civil law, just + as Morgan, that Achilles among pirates, transformed himself from a + buccaneering scourge to a quiet colonist, and spent, without remorse, + around his domestic hearth the millions gathered in blood by the lurid + light of flames and slaughter.</p> +<p></p> +<p></p> +<p></p> + +<p>Since the death of Napoleon, circumstances, about which the author + must keep silence, have still farther dissolved the original bond of + this secret society, always extraordinary, sometimes sinister, as + though it lived in the blackest pages of Mrs. Radcliffe. A somewhat + strange permission to relate in his own way a few of the adventures of + these men (while respecting certain susceptibilities) has only + recently been given to him by one of those anonymous heroes to whom + all society was once occultly subjected. In this permission the writer + fancied he detected a vague desire for personal celebrity.</p> +<p>This man, apparently still young, with fair hair and blue eyes, whose + sweet, clear voice seemed to denote a feminine soul, was pale of face + and mysterious in manner; he conversed affably, declared himself not + more than forty years of age, and apparently belonged to the very + highest social classes. The name which he assumed must have been + fictitious; his person was unknown in society. Who was he? That, no + one has ever known.</p> +<p>Perhaps, in confiding to the author the extraordinary matters which he + related to him, this mysterious person may have wished to see them in + a manner reproduced, and thus enjoy the emotions they were certain to + bring to the hearts of the masses,--a feeling analogous to that of + Macpherson when the name of his creation Ossian was transcribed into + all languages. That was certainly, for the Scotch lawyer, one of the + keenest, or at any rate the rarest, sensations a man could give + himself. Is it not the incognito of genius? To write the "Itinerary + from Paris to Jerusalem" is to take a share in the human glory of a + single epoch; but to endow his native land with another Homer, was not + that usurping the work of God?</p> +<p>The author knows too well the laws of narration to be ignorant of the + pledges this short preface is contracting for him; but he also knows + enough of the history of the THIRTEEN to be certain that his present + tale will never be thought below the interest inspired by this + programme. Dramas steeped in blood, comedies filled with terror, + romantic tales through which rolled heads mysteriously decapitated, + have been confided to him. If readers were not surfeited with horrors + served up to them of late in cold blood, he might reveal the calm + atrocities, the surpassing tragedies concealed under family life. But + he chooses in preference gentler events,--those where scenes of purity + succeed the tempests of passion; where woman is radiant with virtue + and beauty. To the honor of the THIRTEEN be it said that there are + such scenes in their history, which may have the honor of being some + day published as a foil of tales to listeners,--that race apart from + others, so curiously energetic, and so interesting in spite of its + crimes.</p> +<p>An author ought to be above converting his tale, when the tale is + true, into a species of surprise-game, and of taking his readers, as + certain novellists do, through many volumes and from cellar to cellar, + to show them the dry bones of a dead body, and tell them, by way of + conclusion, that THAT is what has frightened them behind doors, hidden + in the arras, or in cellars where the dead man was buried and + forgotten. In spite of his aversion for prefaces, the author feels + bound to place the following statement at the head of this narrative. + Ferragus is a first episode which clings by invisible links to the + "History of the THIRTEEN," whose power, naturally acquired, can alone + explain certain acts and agencies which would otherwise seem + supernatural. Although it is permissible in tellers of tales to have a + sort of literary coquetry in becoming historians, they ought to + renounce the benefit that may accrue from an odd or fantastic title-- + on which certain slight successes have been won in the present day. + Consequently, the author will now explain, succinctly, the reasons + that obliged him to select a title to his book which seems at first + sight unnatural.</p> +<p>FERRAGUS is, according to ancient custom, a name taken by the chief or + Grand Master of the Devorants. On the day of their election these + chiefs continue whichever of the dynasties of their Order they are + most in sympathy with, precisely as the Popes do, on their accession, + in connection with pontifical dynasties. Thus the Devorants have + "Trempe-la Soupe IX.," "Ferragus XXII.," "Tutanus XIII.," + "Masche-Fer + IV.," just as the Church has Clement XIV., Gregory VII., Julius II., + Alexander VI., etc.</p> +<p>Now, then, who are the Devorants? "Devorant" is the name of one of + those tribes of "Companions" that issued in ancient times from the + great mystical association formed among the workers of Christianity to + rebuild the temple at Jerusalem. Companionism (to coin a word) still + exists in France among the people. Its traditions, powerful over minds + that are not enlightened, and over men not educated enough to cast + aside an oath, might serve the ends of formidable enterprises if some + rough-hewn genius were to seize hold of these diverse associations. + All the instruments of this Companionism are well-nigh blind. From + town to town there has existed from time immemorial, for the use of + Companions, an "Obade,"--a sort of halting-place, kept by a "Mother," + an old woman, half-gypsy, with nothing to lose, knowing everything + that happens in her neighborhood, and devoted, either from fear or + habit, to the tribe, whose straggling members she feeds and lodges. + This people, ever moving and changing, though controlled by immutable + customs, has its eyes everywhere, executes, without judging it, a + WILL,--for the oldest Companion still belongs to an era when men had + faith. Moreover, the whole body professes doctrines that are + sufficiently true and sufficiently mysterious to electrify into a sort + of tribal loyalty all adepts whenever they obtain even a slight + development. The attachment of the Companions to their laws is so + passionate that the diverse tribes will fight sanguinary battles with + each other in defence of some question of principle.</p> +<p>Happily for our present public safety, when a Devorant is ambitious, + he builds houses, lays by his money, and leaves the Order. There is + many a curious thing to tell about the "Compagnons du Devoir" + [Companions of the Duty], the rivals of the Devorants, and about the + different sects of working-men, their usages, their fraternity, and + the bond existing between them and the free-masons. But such details + would be out of place here. The author must, however, add that under + the old monarchy it was not an unknown thing to find a "Trempe-la- + Soupe" enslaved to the king sentenced for a hundred and one years to + the galleys, but ruling his tribe from there, religiously consulted by + it, and when he escaped from his galley, certain of help, succor, and + respect, wherever he might be. To see its grand master at the galleys + is, to the faithful tribe, only one of those misfortunes for which + providence is responsible, and which does not release the Devorants + from obeying a power created by them to be above them. It is but the + passing exile of their legitimate king, always a king for them. Thus + we see the romantic prestige attaching to the name of Ferragus and to + that of the Devorants completely dissipated.</p> +<p>As for the THIRTEEN, they were all men of the stamp of Trelawney, Lord + Byron's friend, who was, they say, the original of his "Corsair." + They + were all fatalists, men of nerve and poesy, weary of leading flat and + empty lives, driven toward Asiatic enjoyments by forces all the more + excessive because, long dormant, they awoke furious. One of them, + after re-reading "Venice Preserved," and admiring the sublime union + of + Pierre and Jaffier, began to reflect on the virtues shown by men who + are outlawed by society, on the honesty of galley-slaves, the + faithfulness of thieves among each other, the privileges of exorbitant + power which such men know how to win by concentrating all ideas into a + single will. He saw that Man is greater than men. He concluded that + society ought to belong wholly to those distinguished beings who, to + natural intelligence, acquired wisdom, and fortune, add a fanaticism + hot enough to fuse into one casting these different forces. That done, + their occult power, vast in action and in intensity, against which the + social order would be helpless, would cast down all obstacles, blast + all other wills, and give to each the devilish power of all. This + world apart within the world, hostile to the world, admitting none of + the world's ideas, not recognizing any law, not submitting to any + conscience but that of necessity, obedient to a devotion only, acting + with every faculty for a single associate when one of their number + asked for the assistance of all,--this life of filibusters in lemon + kid gloves and cabriolets; this intimate union of superior beings, + cold and sarcastic, smiling and cursing in the midst of a false and + puerile society; this certainty of forcing all things to serve an end, + of plotting a vengeance that could not fail of living in thirteen + hearts; this happiness of nurturing a secret hatred in the face of + men, and of being always in arms against this; this ability to + withdraw to the sanctuary of self with one idea more than even the + most remarkable of men could have,--this religion of pleasure and + egotism cast so strong a spell over Thirteen men that they revived the + society of Jesuits to the profit of the devil.</p> +<p>It was horrible and stupendous; but the compact was made, and it + lasted precisely because it appeared to be so impossible.</p> +<p>There was, therefore, in Paris a brotherhood of THIRTEEN, who belonged + to each other absolutely, but ignored themselves as absolutely before + the world. At night they met, like conspirators, hiding no thought, + disposing each and all of a common fortune, like that of the Old Man + of the Mountain; having their feet in all salons, their hands in all + money-boxes, and making all things serve their purpose or their fancy + without scruple. No chief commanded them; no one member could arrogate + to himself that power. The most eager passion, the most exacting + circumstance, alone had the right to pass first. They were Thirteen + unknown kings,--but true kings, more than ordinary kings and judges + and executioners,--men who, having made themselves wings to roam + through society from depth to height, disdained to be anything in the + social sphere because they could be all. If the present writer ever + learns the reasons of their abdication of this power, he will take + occasion to tell them.[*]</p> +<p>[*] See Theophile Gautier's account of the society of the "Cheval + Rouge." Memoir of Balzac. Roberts Brothers, Boston.</p> +<p>Now, with this brief explanation, he may be allowed to begin the tale of certain + episodes in the history of the THIRTEEN, which have more particularly attracted + him by the Parisian flavor of their details and the whimsicality of their contrasts.</p> +<p> </p> +<h1 align="center"></h1> +<h1 align="center"></h1> +<h1 align="center">FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS</h1> +<h1 align="center"> </h1> +<h2 align="center"></h2> +<h2 align="center">CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3 align="center">MADAME JULES</h3> +<h3 align="center"> </h3> +<p>Certain streets in Paris are as degraded as a man covered with infamy; also, + there are noble streets, streets simply respectable, young streets on the morality + of which the public has not yet formed an opinion; also cut-throat streets, + streets older than the age of the oldest dowagers, estimable streets, streets + always clean, streets always dirty, working, laboring, and mercantile streets. + In short, the streets of Paris have every human quality, and impress us, by + what we must call their physiognomy, with certain ideas against which we are + defenceless. There are, for instance, streets of a bad neighborhood in which + you could not be induced to live, and streets where you would willingly take + up your abode. Some streets, like the rue Montmartre, have a charming head, + and end in a fish's tail. The rue de la Paix is a wide street, a fine street, + yet it wakens none of those gracefully noble thoughts which come to an impressible + mind in the middle of the rue Royale, and it certainly lacks the majesty which + reigns in the Place Vendome.</p> +<p>If you walk the streets of the Ile Saint-Louis, do not seek the reason of the + nervous sadness that lays hold upon you save in the solitude of the spot, the + gloomy look of the houses, and the great deserted mansions. This island, the + ghost of <i>fermiers-generaux</i>, is the Venice of Paris. The Place de la + Bourse is voluble, busy, degraded; it is never fine except by moonlight at two + in the morning. By day it is Paris epitomized; by night it is a dream of Greece. + The rue Traversiere-Saint-Honore--is not that a villainous street? Look at the + wretched little houses with two windows on a floor, where vice, crime, and misery + abound. The narrow streets exposed to the north, where the sun never comes more + than three or four times a year, are the cut-throat streets which murder with + impunity; the authorities of the present day do not meddle with them; but in + former times the Parliament might perhaps have summoned the lieutenant of police + and reprimanded him for the state of things; and it would, at least, have issued + some decree against such streets, as it once did against the wigs of the Chapter + of Beauvais. And yet Monsieur Benoiston de Chateauneuf has proved that the mortality + of these streets is double that of others! To sum up such theories by a single + example: is not the rue Fromentin both murderous and profligate!</p> +<p>These observations, incomprehensible out of Paris, will doubtless be understood + by musing men of thought and poesy and pleasure, who know, while rambling about + Paris, how to harvest the mass of floating interests which may be gathered at + all hours within her walls; to them Paris is the most delightful and varied + of monsters: here, a pretty woman; farther on, a haggard pauper; here, new as + the coinage of a new reign; there, in this corner, elegant as a fashionable + woman. A monster, moreover, complete! Its garrets, as it were, a head full of + knowledge and genius; its first storeys stomachs repleted; its shops, actual + feet, where the busy ambulating crowds are moving. Ah! what an ever-active life + the monster leads! Hardly has the last vibration of the last carriage coming + from a ball ceased at its heart before its arms are moving at the barriers and + it shakes itself slowly into motion. Doors open; turning on their hinges like + the membrane of some huge lobster, invisibly manipulated by thirty thousand + men or women, of whom each individual occupies a space of six square feet, but + has a kitchen, a workshop, a bed, children, a garden, little light to see by, + but must see all. Imperceptibly, the articulations begin to crack; motion communicates + itself; the street speaks. By mid-day, all is alive; the chimneys smoke, the + monster eats; then he roars, and his thousand paws begin to ramp. Splendid spectacle! + But, O Paris! he who has not admired your gloomy passages, your gleams and flashes + of light, your deep and silent <i>cul-de-sacs</i>, who has not listened to + your murmurings between midnight and two in the morning, knows nothing as yet + of your true poesy, nor of your broad and fantastic contrasts.</p> +<p>There are a few amateurs who never go their way heedlessly; who savor + their Paris, so to speak; who know its physiognomy so well that they + see every wart, and pimple, and redness. To others, Paris is always + that monstrous marvel, that amazing assemblage of activities, of + schemes, of thoughts; the city of a hundred thousand tales, the head + of the universe. But to those few, Paris is sad or gay, ugly or + beautiful, living or dead; to them Paris is a creature; every man, + every fraction of a house is a lobe of the cellular tissue of that + great courtesan whose head and heart and fantastic customs they know + so well. These men are lovers of Paris; they lift their noses at such + or such a corner of a street, certain that they can see the face of a + clock; they tell a friend whose tobacco-pouch is empty, "Go down that + passage and turn to the left; there's a tobacconist next door to a + confectioner, where there's a pretty girl." Rambling about Paris is, + to these poets, a costly luxury. How can they help spending precious + minutes before the dramas, disasters, faces, and picturesque events + which meet us everywhere amid this heaving queen of cities, clothed in + posters,--who has, nevertheless, not a single clean corner, so + complying is she to the vices of the French nation! Who has not + chanced to leave his home early in the morning, intending to go to + some extremity of Paris, and found himself unable to get away from the + centre of it by the dinner-hour? Such a man will know how to excuse + this vagabondizing start upon our tale; which, however, we here sum up + in an observation both useful and novel, as far as any observation can + be novel in Paris, where there is nothing new,--not even the statue + erected yesterday, on which some young gamin has already scribbled his + name.</p> +<p>Well, then! there are streets, or ends of streets, there are houses, + unknown for the most part to persons of social distinction, to which a + woman of that class cannot go without causing cruel and very wounding + things to be thought of her. Whether the woman be rich and has a + carriage, whether she is on foot, or is disguised, if she enters one + of these Parisian defiles at any hour of the day, she compromises her + reputation as a virtuous woman. If, by chance, she is there at nine in + the evening the conjectures that an observer permits himself to make + upon her may prove fearful in their consequences. But if the woman is + young and pretty, if she enters a house in one of those streets, if + the house has a long, dark, damp, and evil-smelling passage-way, at + the end of which flickers the pallid gleam of an oil lamp, and if + beneath that gleam appears the horrid face of a withered old woman + with fleshless fingers, ah, then! and we say it in the interests of + young and pretty women, that woman is lost. She is at the mercy of the + first man of her acquaintance who sees her in that Parisian slough. + There is more than one street in Paris where such a meeting may lead + to a frightful drama, a bloody drama of death and love, a drama of the + modern school.</p> +<p>Unhappily, this scene, this modern drama itself, will be comprehended + by only a small number of persons; and it is a pity to tell the tale + to a public which cannot enter into its local merit. But who can + flatter himself that he will ever be understood? We all die unknown-- + 'tis the saying of women and of authors.</p> +<p>At half-past eight o'clock one evening, in the rue Pagevin, in the days when + that street had no wall which did not echo some infamous word, and was, in the + direction of the rue Soly, the narrowest and most impassable street in Paris + (not excepting the least frequented corner of the most deserted street),--at + the beginning of the month of February about thirteen years ago, a young man, + by one of those chances which come but once in life, turned the corner of the + rue Pagevin to enter the rue des Vieux-Augustins, close to the rue Soly. There, + this young man, who lived himself in the rue de Bourbon, saw in a woman near + whom he had been unconsciously walking, a vague resemblance to the prettiest + woman in Paris; a chaste and delightful person, with whom he was secretly and + passionately in love,--a love without hope; she was married. In a moment his + heart leaped, an intolerable heat surged from his centre and flowed through + all his veins; his back turned cold, the skin of his head crept. He loved, he + was young, he knew Paris; and his knowledge did not permit him to be ignorant + of all there was of possible infamy in an elegant, rich, young, and beautiful + woman walking there, alone, with a furtively criminal step. <i>She</i> in + that mud! at that hour!</p> +<p>The love that this young man felt for that woman may seem romantic, + and all the more so because he was an officer in the Royal Guard. If + he had been in the infantry, the affair might have seemed more likely; + but, as an officer of rank in the cavalry, he belonged to that French + arm which demands rapidity in its conquests and derives as much vanity + from its amorous exploits as from its dashing uniform. But the passion + of this officer was a true love, and many young hearts will think it + noble. He loved this woman because she was virtuous; he loved her + virtue, her modest grace, her imposing saintliness, as the dearest + treasures of his hidden passion. This woman was indeed worthy to + inspire one of those platonic loves which are found, like flowers amid + bloody ruins, in the history of the middle-ages; worthy to be the + hidden principle of all the actions of a young man's life; a love as + high, as pure as the skies when blue; a love without hope and to which + men bind themselves because it can never deceive; a love that is + prodigal of unchecked enjoyment, especially at an age when the heart + is ardent, the imagination keen, and the eyes of a man see very + clearly.</p> +<p>Strange, weird, inconceivable effects may be met with at night in Paris. Only + those who have amused themselves by watching those effects have any idea how + fantastic a woman may appear there at dusk. At times the creature whom you are + following, by accident or design, seems to you light and slender; the stockings, + if they are white, make you fancy that the legs must be slim and elegant; the + figure though wrapped in a shawl, or concealed by a pelisse, defines itself + gracefully and seductively among the shadows; anon, the uncertain gleam thrown + from a shop-window or a street lamp bestows a fleeting lustre, nearly always + deceptive, on the unknown woman, and fires the imagination, carrying it far + beyond the truth. The senses then bestir themselves; everything takes color + and animation; the woman appears in an altogether novel aspect; her person becomes + beautiful. Behold! she is not a woman, she is a demon, a siren, who is drawing + you by magnetic attraction to some respectable house, where the worthy <i>bourgeoise</i>, + frightened by your threatening step and the clack of your boots, shuts the door + in your face without looking at you.</p> +<p>A vacillating gleam, thrown from the shop-window of a shoemaker, suddenly illuminated + from the waist down the figure of the woman who was before the young man. Ah! + surely, <i>she</i> alone had that swaying figure; she alone knew the secret + of that chaste gait which innocently set into relief the many beauties of that + attractive form. Yes, that was the shawl, and that the velvet bonnet which she + wore in the mornings. On her gray silk stockings not a spot, on her shoes not + a splash. The shawl held tightly round the bust disclosed, vaguely, its charming + lines; and the young man, who had often seen those shoulders at a ball, knew + well the treasures that the shawl concealed. By the way a Parisian woman wraps + a shawl around her, and the way she lifts her feet in the street, a man of intelligence + in such studies can divine the secret of her mysterious errand. There is something, + I know not what, of quivering buoyancy in the person, in the gait; the woman + seems to weigh less; she steps, or rather, she glides like a star, and floats + onward led by a thought which exhales from the folds and motion of her dress. + The young man hastened his step, passed the woman, and then turned back to look + at her. Pst! she had disappeared into a passage-way, the grated door of which + and its bell still rattled and sounded. The young man walked back to the alley + and saw the woman reach the farther end, where she began to mount--not without + receiving the obsequious bow of an old portress--a winding staircase, the lower + steps of which were strongly lighted; she went up buoyantly, eagerly, as though + impatient.</p> +<p>"Impatient for what?" said the young man to himself, drawing back + to + lean against a wooden railing on the other side of the street. He + gazed, unhappy man, at the different storeys of the house, with the + keen attention of a detective searching for a conspirator.</p> +<p>It was one of those houses of which there are thousands in Paris, + ignoble, vulgar, narrow, yellowish in tone, with four storeys and + three windows on each floor. The outer blinds of the first floor were + closed. Where was she going? The young man fancied he heard the tinkle + of a bell on the second floor. As if in answer to it, a light began to + move in a room with two windows strongly illuminated, which presently + lit up the third window, evidently that of a first room, either the + salon or the dining-room of the apartment. Instantly the outline of a + woman's bonnet showed vaguely on the window, and a door between the + two rooms must have closed, for the first was dark again, while the + two other windows resumed their ruddy glow. At this moment a voice + said, "Hi, there!" and the young man was conscious of a blow on his + shoulder.</p> +<p>"Why don't you pay attention?" said the rough voice of a workman, + carrying a plank on his shoulder. The man passed on. He was the voice + of Providence saying to the watcher: "What are you meddling with? + Think of your own duty; and leave these Parisians to their own + affairs."</p> +<p>The young man crossed his arms; then, as no one beheld him, he + suffered tears of rage to flow down his cheeks unchecked. At last the + sight of the shadows moving behind the lighted windows gave him such + pain that he looked elsewhere and noticed a hackney-coach, standing + against a wall in the upper part of the rue des Vieux-Augustins, at a + place where there was neither the door of a house, nor the light of a + shop-window.</p> +<p>Was it she? Was it not she? Life or death to a lover! This lover + waited. He stood there during a century of twenty minutes. After that + the woman came down, and he then recognized her as the one whom he + secretly loved. Nevertheless, he wanted still to doubt. She went to + the hackney-coach, and got into it.</p> +<p>"The house will always be there and I can search it later," thought + the young man, following the carriage at a run, to solve his last + doubts; and soon he did so.</p> +<p>The carriage stopped in the rue de Richelieu before a shop for + artificial flowers, close to the rue de Menars. The lady got out, + entered the shop, sent out the money to pay the coachman, and + presently left the shop herself, on foot, after buying a bunch of + marabouts. Marabouts for her black hair! The officer beheld her, + through the window-panes, placing the feathers to her head to see the + effect, and he fancied he could hear the conversation between herself + and the shop-woman.</p> +<p>"Oh! madame, nothing is more suitable for brunettes: brunettes have something + a little too strongly marked in their lines, and marabouts give them just that + <i>flow</i> which they lack. Madame la Duchesse de Langeais says they give + a woman something vague, Ossianic, and very high-bred."</p> +<p>"Very good; send them to me at once."</p> +<p>Then the lady turned quickly toward the rue de Menars, and entered her + own house. When the door closed on her, the young lover, having lost + his hopes, and worse, far worse, his dearest beliefs, walked through + the streets like a drunken man, and presently found himself in his own + room without knowing how he came there. He flung himself into an arm- + chair, put his head in his hands and his feet on the andirons, drying + his boots until he burned them. It was an awful moment,--one of those + moments in human life when the character is moulded, and the future + conduct of the best of men depends on the good or evil fortune of his + first action. Providence or fatality?--choose which you will.</p> +<p>This young man belonged to a good family, whose nobility was not very + ancient; but there are so few really old families in these days, that + all men of rank are ancient without dispute. His grandfather had + bought the office of counsellor to the Parliament of Paris, where he + afterwards became president. His sons, each provided with a handsome + fortune, entered the army, and through their marriages became attached + to the court. The Revolution swept the family away; but one old + dowager, too obstinate to emigrate, was left; she was put in prison, + threatened with death, but was saved by the 9th Thermidor and + recovered her property. When the proper time came, about the year + 1804, she recalled her grandson to France. Auguste de Maulincour, the + only scion of the Carbonnon de Maulincour, was brought up by the good + dowager with the triple care of a mother, a woman of rank, and an + obstinate dowager. When the Restoration came, the young man, then + eighteen years of age, entered the Maison-Rouge, followed the princes + to Ghent, was made an officer in the body-guard, left it to serve in + the line, but was recalled later to the Royal Guard, where, at twenty- + three years of age, he found himself major of a cavalry regiment,--a + splendid position, due to his grandmother, who had played her cards + well to obtain it, in spite of his youth. This double biography is a + compendium of the general and special history, barring variations, of + all the noble families who emigrated having debts and property, + dowagers and tact.</p> +<p>Madame la Baronne de Maulincour had a friend in the old Vidame de + Pamiers, formerly a commander of the Knights of Malta. This was one of + those undying friendships founded on sexagenary ties which nothing can + weaken, because at the bottom of such intimacies there are certain + secrets of the human heart, delightful to guess at when we have the + time, insipid to explain in twenty words, and which might make the + text of a work in four volumes as amusing as the Doyen de Killerine,-- + a work about which young men talk and judge without having read it.</p> +<p>Auguste de Maulincour belonged therefore to the faubourg Saint-Germain through + his grandmother and the vidame, and it sufficed him to date back two centuries + to take the tone and opinions of those who assume to go back to Clovis. This + young man, pale, slender, and delicate in appearance, a man of honor and true + courage, who would fight a duel for a yes or a no, had never yet fought upon + a battle-field, though he wore in his button-hole the cross of the Legion of + honor. He was, as you perceive, one of the blunders of the Restoration, perhaps + the most excusable of them. The youth of those days was the youth of no epoch. + It came between the memories of the Empire and those of the Emigration, between + the old traditions of the court and the conscientious education of the <i>bourgeoisie</i>; + between religion and fancy-balls; between two political faiths, between Louis + XVIII., who saw only the present, and Charles X., who looked too far into the + future; it was moreover bound to accept the will of the king, though the king + was deceiving and tricking it. This unfortunate youth, blind and yet clear-sighted, + was counted as nothing by old men jealously keeping the reins of the State in + their feeble hands, while the monarchy could have been saved by their retirement + and the accession of this Young France, which the old doctrinaires, the <i>emigres</i> + of the Restoration, still speak of slightingly. Auguste de Maulincour was a + victim to the ideas which weighed in those days upon French youth, and we must + here explain why.</p> +<p>The Vidame de Pamiers was still, at sixty-seven years of age, a very brilliant + man, having seen much and lived much; a good talker, a man of honor and a gallant + man, but who held as to women the most detestable opinions; he loved them, and + he despised them. <i>Their</i> honor! <i>their</i> feelings! Ta-ra-ra, rubbish + and shams! When he was with them, he believed in them, the ci-devant "monstre"; + he never contradicted them, and he made them shine. But among his male friends, + when the topic of the sex came up, he laid down the principle that to deceive + women, and to carry on several intrigues at once, should be the occupation of + those young men who were so misguided as to wish to meddle in the affairs of + the State. It is sad to have to sketch so hackneyed a portrait, for has it not + figured everywhere and become, literally, as threadbare as that of a grenadier + of the Empire? But the vidame had an influence on Monsieur de Maulincour's destiny + which obliges us to preserve his portrait; he lectured the young man after his + fashion, and did his best to convert him to the doctrines of the great age of + gallantry.</p> +<p>The dowager, a tender-hearted, pious woman, sitting between God and + her vidame, a model of grace and sweetness, but gifted with that + well-bred persistency which triumphs in the long run, had longed to + preserve for her grandson the beautiful illusions of life, and had + therefore brought him up in the highest principles; she instilled into + him her own delicacy of feeling and made him, to outward appearance, a + timid man, if not a fool. The sensibilities of the young fellow, + preserved pure, were not worn by contact without; he remained so + chaste, so scrupulous, that he was keenly offended by actions and + maxims to which the world attached no consequence. Ashamed of this + susceptibility, he forced himself to conceal it under a false + hardihood; but he suffered in secret, all the while scoffing with + others at the things he reverenced.</p> +<p>It came to pass that he was deceived; because, in accordance with a + not uncommon whim of destiny, he, a man of gentle melancholy, and + spiritual in love, encountered in the object of his first passion a + woman who held in horror all German sentimentalism. The young man, in + consequence, distrusted himself, became dreamy, absorbed in his + griefs, complaining of not being understood. Then, as we desire all + the more violently the things we find difficult to obtain, he + continued to adore women with that ingenuous tenderness and feline + delicacy the secret of which belongs to women themselves, who may, + perhaps, prefer to keep the monopoly of it. In point of fact, though + women of the world complain of the way men love them, they have little + liking themselves for those whose soul is half feminine. Their own + superiority consists in making men believe they are their inferiors in + love; therefore they will readily leave a lover if he is inexperienced + enough to rob them of those fears with which they seek to deck + themselves, those delightful tortures of feigned jealousy, those + troubles of hope betrayed, those futile expectations,--in short, the + whole procession of their feminine miseries. They hold Sir Charles + Grandison in horror. What can be more contrary to their nature than a + tranquil, perfect love? They want emotions; happiness without storms + is not happiness to them. Women with souls that are strong enough to + bring infinitude into love are angelic exceptions; they are among + women what noble geniuses are among men. Their great passions are rare + as masterpieces. Below the level of such love come compromises, + conventions, passing and contemptible irritations, as in all things + petty and perishable.</p> +<p>Amid the hidden disasters of his heart, and while he was still seeking + the woman who could comprehend him (a search which, let us remark in + passing, is one of the amorous follies of our epoch), Auguste met, in + the rank of society that was farthest from his own, in the secondary + sphere of money, where banking holds the first place, a perfect being, + one of those women who have I know not what about them that is saintly + and sacred,--women who inspire such reverence that love has need of + the help of a long familiarity to declare itself.</p> +<p>Auguste then gave himself up wholly to the delights of the deepest and most + moving of passions, to a love that was purely adoring. Innumerable repressed + desires there were, shadows of passion so vague yet so profound, so fugitive + and yet so actual, that one scarcely knows to what we may compare them. They + are like perfumes, or clouds, or rays of the sun, or shadows, or whatever there + is in nature that shines for a moment and disappears, that springs to life and + dies, leaving in the heart long echoes of emotion. When the soul is young enough + to nurture melancholy and far-off hope, to find in woman more than a woman, + is it not the greatest happiness that can befall a man when he loves enough + to feel more joy in touching a gloved hand, or a lock of hair, in listening + to a word, in casting a single look, than in all the ardor of possession given + by happy love? Thus it is that rejected persons, those rebuffed by fate, the + ugly and unfortunate, lovers unrevealed, women and timid men, alone know the + treasures contained in the voice of the beloved. Taking their source and their + element from the soul itself, the vibrations of the air, charged with passion, + put our hearts so powerfully into communion, carrying thought between them so + lucidly, and being, above all, so incapable of falsehood, that a single inflection + of a voice is often a revelation. What enchantments the intonations of a tender + voice can bestow upon the heart of a poet! What ideas they awaken! What freshness + they shed there! Love is in the voice before the glance avows it. Auguste, poet + after the manner of lovers (there are poets who feel, and poets who express; + the first are the happiest), Auguste had tasted all these early joys, so vast, + so fecund. SHE possessed the most winning organ that the most artful woman of + the world could have desired in order to deceive at her ease; <i>she</i> had + that silvery voice which is soft to the ear, and ringing only for the heart + which it stirs and troubles, caresses and subjugates.</p> +<p>And this woman went by night to the rue Soly through the rue Pagevin! + and her furtive apparition in an infamous house had just destroyed the + grandest of passions! The vidame's logic triumphed.</p> +<p>"If she is betraying her husband we will avenge ourselves," said + Auguste.</p> +<p>There was still faith in that "if." The philosophic doubt of Descartes + is a politeness with which we should always honor virtue. Ten o'clock + sounded. The Baron de Maulincour remembered that this woman was going + to a ball that evening at a house to which he had access. He dressed, + went there, and searched for her through all the salons. The mistress + of the house, Madame de Nucingen, seeing him thus occupied, said:--</p> +<p>"You are looking for Madame Jules; but she has not yet come."</p> +<p>"Good evening, dear," said a voice.</p> +<p>Auguste and Madame de Nucingen turned round. Madame Jules had arrived, + dressed in white, looking simple and noble, wearing in her hair the + marabouts the young baron had seen her choose in the flower-shop. That + voice of love now pierced his heart. Had he won the slightest right to + be jealous of her he would have petrified her then and there by saying + the words, "Rue Soly!" But if he, an alien to her life, had said those + words in her ear a thousand times, Madame Jules would have asked him + in astonishment what he meant. He looked at her stupidly.</p> +<p>For those sarcastic persons who scoff at all things it may be a great + amusement to detect the secret of a woman, to know that her chastity + is a lie, that her calm face hides some anxious thought, that under + that pure brow is a dreadful drama. But there are other souls to whom + the sight is saddening; and many of those who laugh in public, when + withdrawn into themselves and alone with their conscience, curse the + world while they despise the woman. Such was the case with Auguste de + Maulincour, as he stood there in presence of Madame Jules. Singular + situation! There was no other relation between them than that which + social life establishes between persons who exchange a few words seven + or eight times in the course of a winter, and yet he was calling her + to account on behalf of a happiness unknown to her; he was judging + her, without letting her know of his accusation.</p> +<p>Many young men find themselves thus in despair at having broken + forever with a woman adored in secret, condemned and despised in + secret. There are many hidden monologues told to the walls of some + solitary lodging; storms roused and calmed without ever leaving the + depths of hearts; amazing scenes of the moral world, for which a + painter is wanted. Madame Jules sat down, leaving her husband to make + a turn around the salon. After she was seated she seemed uneasy, and, + while talking with her neighbor, she kept a furtive eye on Monsieur + Jules Desmarets, her husband, a broker chiefly employed by the Baron + de Nucingen. The following is the history of their home life.</p> +<p>Monsieur Desmarets was, five years before his marriage, in a broker's + office, with no other means than the meagre salary of a clerk. But he + was a man to whom misfortune had early taught the truths of life, and + he followed the strait path with the tenacity of an insect making for + its nest; he was one of those dogged young men who feign death before + an obstacle and wear out everybody's patience with their own beetle- + like perseverance. Thus, young as he was, he had all the republican + virtue of poor peoples; he was sober, saving of his time, an enemy to + pleasure. He waited. Nature had given him the immense advantage of an + agreeable exterior. His calm, pure brow, the shape of his placid, but + expressive face, his simple manners,--all revealed in him a laborious + and resigned existence, that lofty personal dignity which is imposing + to others, and the secret nobility of heart which can meet all events. + His modesty inspired a sort of respect in those who knew him. Solitary + in the midst of Paris, he knew the social world only by glimpses + during the brief moments which he spent in his patron's salon on + holidays.</p> +<p>There were passions in this young man, as in most of the men who live + in that way, of amazing profundity,--passions too vast to be drawn + into petty incidents. His want of means compelled him to lead an + ascetic life, and he conquered his fancies by hard work. After paling + all day over figures, he found his recreation in striving obstinately + to acquire that wide general knowledge so necessary in these days to + every man who wants to make his mark, whether in society, or in + commerce, at the bar, or in politics or literature. The only peril + these fine souls have to fear comes from their own uprightness. They + see some poor girl; they love her; they marry her, and wear out their + lives in a struggle between poverty and love. The noblest ambition is + quenched perforce by the household account-book. Jules Desmarets went + headlong into this peril.</p> +<p>He met one evening at his patron's house a girl of the rarest beauty. + Unfortunate men who are deprived of affection, and who consume the + finest hours of youth in work and study, alone know the rapid ravages + that passion makes in their lonely, misconceived hearts. They are so + certain of loving truly, all their forces are concentrated so quickly + on the object of their love, that they receive, while beside her, the + most delightful sensations, when, as often happens, they inspire none + at all. Nothing is more flattering to a woman's egotism than to divine + this passion, apparently immovable, and these emotions so deep that + they have needed a great length of time to reach the human surface. + These poor men, anchorites in the midst of Paris, have all the + enjoyments of anchorites; and may sometimes succumb to temptations. + But, more often deceived, betrayed, and misunderstood, they are rarely + able to gather the sweet fruits of a love which, to them, is like a + flower dropped from heaven.</p> +<p>One smile from his wife, a single inflection of her voice sufficed to + make Jules Desmarets conceive a passion which was boundless. Happily, + the concentrated fire of that secret passion revealed itself artlessly + to the woman who inspired it. These two beings then loved each other + religiously. To express all in a word, they clasped hands without + shame before the eyes of the world and went their way like two + children, brother and sister, passing serenely through a crowd where + all made way for them and admired them.</p> +<p>The young girl was in one of those unfortunate positions which human + selfishness entails upon children. She had no civil status; her name + of "Clemence" and her age were recorded only by a notary public. As + for her fortune, that was small indeed. Jules Desmarets was a happy + man on hearing these particulars. If Clemence had belonged to an + opulent family, he might have despaired of obtaining her; but she was + only the poor child of love, the fruit of some terrible adulterous + passion; and they were married. Then began for Jules Desmarets a + series of fortunate events. Every one envied his happiness; and + henceforth talked only of his luck, without recalling either his + virtues or his courage.</p> +<p>Some days after their marriage, the mother of Clemence, who passed in + society for her godmother, told Jules Desmarets to buy the office and + good-will of a broker, promising to provide him with the necessary + capital. In those days, such offices could still be bought at a modest + price. That evening, in the salon as it happened of his patron, a + wealthy capitalist proposed, on the recommendation of the mother, a + very advantageous transaction for Jules Desmarets, and the next day + the happy clerk was able to buy out his patron. In four years + Desmarets became one of the most prosperous men in his business; new + clients increased the number his predecessor had left to him; he + inspired confidence in all; and it was impossible for him not to feel, + by the way business came to him, that some hidden influence, due to + his mother-in-law, or to Providence, was secretly protecting him.</p> +<p>At the end of the third year Clemence lost her godmother. By that time + Monsieur Jules (so called to distinguish him from an elder brother, + whom he had set up as a notary in Paris) possessed an income from + invested property of two hundred thousand francs. There was not in all + Paris another instance of the domestic happiness enjoyed by this + couple. For five years their exceptional love had been troubled by + only one event,--a calumny for which Monsieur Jules exacted vengeance. + One of his former comrades attributed to Madame Jules the fortune of + her husband, explaining that it came from a high protection dearly + paid for. The man who uttered the calumny was killed in the duel that + followed it.</p> +<p>The profound passion of this couple, which survived marriage, obtained + a great success in society, though some women were annoyed by it. The + charming household was respected; everybody feted it. Monsieur and + Madame Jules were sincerely liked, perhaps because there is nothing + more delightful to see than happy people; but they never stayed long + at any festivity. They slipped away early, as impatient to regain + their nest as wandering pigeons. This nest was a large and beautiful + mansion in the rue de Menars, where a true feeling for art tempered + the luxury which the financial world continues, traditionally, to + display. Here the happy pair received their society magnificently, + although the obligations of social life suited them but little.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, Jules submitted to the demands of the world, knowing + that, sooner or later, a family has need of it; but he and his wife + felt themselves, in its midst, like green-house plants in a tempest. + With a delicacy that was very natural, Jules had concealed from his + wife the calumny and the death of the calumniator. Madame Jules, + herself, was inclined, through her sensitive and artistic nature, to + desire luxury. In spite of the terrible lesson of the duel, some + imprudent women whispered to each other that Madame Jules must + sometimes be pressed for money. They often found her more elegantly + dressed in her own home than when she went into society. She loved to + adorn herself to please her husband, wishing to show him that to her + he was more than any social life. A true love, a pure love, above all, + a happy love! Jules, always a lover, and more in love as time went by, + was happy in all things beside his wife, even in her caprices; in + fact, he would have been uneasy if she had none, thinking it a symptom + of some illness.</p> +<p>Auguste de Maulincour had the personal misfortune of running against this passion, + and falling in love with the wife beyond recovery. Nevertheless, though he carried + in his heart so intense a love, he was not ridiculous; he complied with all + the demands of society, and of military manners and customs. And yet his face + wore constantly, even though he might be drinking a glass of champagne, that + dreamy look, that air of silently despising life, that nebulous expression which + belongs, though for other reasons, to <i>blases</i> men,--men dissatisfied + with hollow lives. To love without hope, to be disgusted with life, constitute, + in these days, a social position. The enterprise of winning the heart of a sovereign + might give, perhaps, more hope than a love rashly conceived for a happy woman. + Therefore Maulincour had sufficient reason to be grave and gloomy. A queen has + the vanity of her power; the height of her elevation protects her. But a pious + <i>bourgeoise</i> is like a hedgehog, or an oyster, in its rough wrappings.</p> +<p>At this moment the young officer was beside his unconscious mistress, + who certainly was unaware that she was doubly faithless. Madame Jules + was seated, in a naive attitude, like the least artful woman in + existence, soft and gentle, full of a majestic serenity. What an abyss + is human nature! Before beginning a conversation, the baron looked + alternately at the wife and at the husband. How many were the + reflections he made! He recomposed the "Night Thoughts" of Young in + a + second. And yet the music was sounding through the salons, the light + was pouring from a thousand candles. It was a banker's ball,--one of + those insolent festivals by means of which the world of solid gold + endeavored to sneer at the gold-embossed salons where the faubourg + Saint-Germain met and laughed, not foreseeing the day when the bank + would invade the Luxembourg and take its seat upon the throne. The + conspirators were now dancing, indifferent to coming bankruptcies, + whether of Power or of the Bank. The gilded salons of the Baron de + Nucingen were gay with that peculiar animation that the world of + Paris, apparently joyous at any rate, gives to its fetes. There, men + of talent communicate their wit to fools, and fools communicate that + air of enjoyment that characterizes them. By means of this exchange + all is liveliness. But a ball in Paris always resembles fireworks to a + certain extent; wit, coquetry, and pleasure sparkle and go out like + rockets. The next day all present have forgotten their wit, their + coquetry, their pleasure.</p> +<p>"Ah!" thought Auguste, by way of conclusion, "women are what + the + vidame says they are. Certainly all those dancing here are less + irreproachable actually than Madame Jules appears to be, and yet + Madame Jules went to the rue Soly!"</p> +<p>The rue Soly was like an illness to him; the very word shrivelled his + heart.</p> +<p>"Madame, do you ever dance?" he said to her.</p> +<p>"This is the third time you have asked me that question this winter," + she answered, smiling.</p> +<p>"But perhaps you have never answered it."</p> +<p>"That is true."</p> +<p>"I knew very well that you were false, like other women."</p> +<p>Madame Jules continued to smile.</p> +<p>"Listen, monsieur," she said; "if I told you the real reason, + you + would think it ridiculous. I do not think it false to abstain from + telling things that the world would laugh at."</p> +<p>"All secrets demand, in order to be told, a friendship of which I am + no doubt unworthy, madame. But you cannot have any but noble secrets; + do you think me capable of jesting on noble things?"</p> +<p>"Yes," she said, "you, like all the rest, laugh at our purest + sentiments; you calumniate them. Besides, I have no secrets. I have + the right to love my husband in the face of all the world, and I say + so,--I am proud of it; and if you laugh at me when I tell you that I + dance only with him, I shall have a bad opinion of your heart."</p> +<p>"Have you never danced since your marriage with any one but your + husband?"</p> +<p>"Never. His arm is the only one on which I have leaned; I have never + felt the touch of another man."</p> +<p>"Has your physician never felt your pulse?"</p> +<p>"Now you are laughing at me."</p> +<p>"No, madame, I admire you, because I comprehend you. But you let a man + hear your voice, you let yourself be seen, you--in short, you permit + our eyes to admire you--"</p> +<p>"Ah!" she said, interrupting him, "that is one of my griefs. + Yes, I + wish it were possible for a married woman to live secluded with her + husband, as a mistress lives with her lover, for then--"</p> +<p>"Then why were you, two hours ago, on foot, disguised, in the rue + Soly?"</p> +<p>"The rue Soly, where is that?"</p> +<p>And her pure voice gave no sign of any emotion; no feature of her face + quivered; she did not blush; she remained calm.</p> +<p>"What! you did not go up to the second floor of a house in the rue des + Vieux-Augustins at the corner of the rue Soly? You did not have a + hackney-coach waiting near by? You did not return in it to the flower- + shop in the rue Richelieu, where you bought the feathers that are now + in your hair?"</p> +<p>"I did not leave my house this evening."</p> +<p>As she uttered that lie she was smiling and imperturbable; she played + with her fan; but if any one had passed a hand down her back they + would, perhaps, have found it moist. At that instant Auguste + remembered the instructions of the vidame.</p> +<p>"Then it was some one who strangely resembled you," he said, with + a + credulous air.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," she replied, "if you are capable of following a + woman and + detecting her secrets, you will allow me to say that it is a wrong, a + very wrong thing, and I do you the honor to say that I disbelieve + you."</p> +<p>The baron turned away, placed himself before the fireplace and seemed + thoughtful. He bent his head; but his eyes were covertly fixed on + Madame Jules, who, not remembering the reflections in the mirror, cast + two or three glances at him that were full of terror. Presently she + made a sign to her husband and rising took his arm to walk about the + salon. As she passed before Monsieur de Maulincour, who at that moment + was speaking to a friend, he said in a loud voice, as if in reply to a + remark: "That woman will certainly not sleep quietly this night." + Madame Jules stopped, gave him an imposing look which expressed + contempt, and continued her way, unaware that another look, if + surprised by her husband, might endanger not only her happiness but + the lives of two men. Auguste, frantic with anger, which he tried to + smother in the depths of his soul, presently left the house, swearing + to penetrate to the heart of the mystery. Before leaving, he sought + Madame Jules, to look at her again; but she had disappeared.</p> +<p>What a drama cast into that young head so eminently romantic, like all who + have not known love in the wide extent which they give to it. He adored Madame + Jules under a new aspect; he loved her now with the fury of jealousy and the + frenzied anguish of hope. Unfaithful to her husband, the woman became common. + Auguste could now give himself up to the joys of successful love, and his imagination + opened to him a career of pleasures. Yes, he had lost the angel, but he had + found the most delightful of demons. He went to bed, building castles in the + air, excusing Madame Jules by some romantic fiction in which he did not believe. + He resolved to devote himself wholly, from that day forth, to a search for the + causes, motives, and keynote of this mystery. It was a tale to read, or better + still, a drama to be played, in which he had a part.</p> +<p> </p> +<h2 align="center"></h2> +<h2 align="center">CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3 align="center">FERRAGUS</h3> +<p>A fine thing is the task of a spy, when performed for one's own benefit and + in the interests of a passion. Is it not giving ourselves the pleasure of a + thief and a rascal while continuing honest men? But there is another side to + it; we must resign ourselves to boil with anger, to roar with impatience, to + freeze our feet in the mud, to be numbed, and roasted, and torn by false hopes. + We must go, on the faith of a mere indication, to a vague object, miss our end, + curse our luck, improvise to ourselves elegies, dithyrambics, exclaim idiotically + before inoffensive pedestrians who observe us, knock over old apple- women and + their baskets, run hither and thither, stand on guard beneath a window, make + a thousand suppositions. But, after all, it is a chase, a hunt; a hunt in Paris, + a hunt with all its chances, minus dogs and guns and the tally-ho! Nothing compares + with it but the life of gamblers. But it needs a heart big with love and vengeance + to ambush itself in Paris, like a tiger waiting to spring upon its prey, and + to enjoy the chances and contingencies of Paris, by adding one special interest + to the many that abound there. But for this we need a many-sided soul--for must + we not live in a thousand passions, a thousand sentiments? </p> +<p>Auguste de Maulincour flung himself into this ardent existence + passionately, for he felt all its pleasures and all its misery. He + went disguised about Paris, watching at the corners of the rue Pagevin + and the rue des Vieux-Augustins. He hurried like a hunter from the rue + de Menars to the rue Soly, and back from the rue Soly to the rue de + Menars, without obtaining either the vengeance or the knowledge which + would punish or reward such cares, such efforts, such wiles. But he + had not yet reached that impatience which wrings our very entrails and + makes us sweat; he roamed in hope, believing that Madame Jules would + only refrain for a few days from revisiting the place where she knew + she had been detected. He devoted the first days therefore, to a + careful study of the secrets of the street. A novice at such work, he + dared not question either the porter or the shoemaker of the house to + which Madame Jules had gone; but he managed to obtain a post of + observation in a house directly opposite to the mysterious apartment. + He studied the ground, trying to reconcile the conflicting demands of + prudence, impatience, love, and secrecy.</p> +<p>Early in the month of March, while busy with plans by which he expected to + strike a decisive blow, he left his post about four in the afternoon, after + one of those patient watches from which he had learned nothing. He was on his + way to his own house whither a matter relating to his military service called + him, when he was overtaken in the rue Coquilliere by one of those heavy showers + which instantly flood the gutters, while each drop of rain rings loudly in the + puddles of the roadway. A pedestrian under these circumstances is forced to + stop short and take refuge in a shop or cafe if he is rich enough to pay for + the forced hospitality, or, if in poorer circumstances, under a <i>porte-cochere</i>, + that haven of paupers or shabbily dressed persons. Why have none of our painters + ever attempted to reproduce the physiognomies of a swarm of Parisians, grouped, + under stress of weather, in the damp <i>porte-cochere</i> of a building? First, + there's the musing philosophical pedestrian, who observes with interest all + he sees,--whether it be the stripes made by the rain on the gray background + of the atmosphere (a species of chasing not unlike the capricious threads of + spun glass), or the whirl of white water which the wind is driving like a luminous + dust along the roofs, or the fitful disgorgements of the gutter-pipes, sparkling + and foaming; in short, the thousand nothings to be admired and studied with + delight by loungers, in spite of the porter's broom which pretends to be sweeping + out the gateway. Then there's the talkative refugee, who complains and converses + with the porter while he rests on his broom like a grenadier on his musket; + or the pauper wayfarer, curled against the wall indifferent to the condition + of his rags, long used, alas, to contact with the streets; or the learned pedestrian + who studies, spells, and reads the posters on the walls without finishing them; + or the smiling pedestrian who makes fun of others to whom some street fatality + has happened, who laughs at the muddy women, and makes grimaces at those of + either sex who are looking from the windows; and the silent being who gazes + from floor to floor; and the working-man, armed with a satchel or a paper bundle, + who is estimating the rain as a profit or loss; and the good-natured fugitive, + who arrives like a shot exclaiming, "Ah! what weather, messieurs, what + weather!" and bows to every one; and, finally, the true <i>bourgeois</i> + of Paris, with his unfailing umbrella, an expert in showers, who foresaw this + particular one, but would come out in spite of his wife; this one takes a seat + in the porter's chair. According to individual character, each member of this + fortuitous society contemplates the skies, and departs, skipping to avoid the + mud,--because he is in a hurry, or because he sees other citizens walking along + in spite of wind and slush, or because, the archway being damp and mortally + catarrhal, the bed's edge, as the proverb says, is better than the sheets. Each + one has his motive. No one is left but the prudent pedestrian, the man who, + before he sets forth, makes sure of a scrap of blue sky through the rifting + clouds.</p> +<p>Monsieur de Maulincour took refuge, as we have said, with a whole family of + fugitives, under the porch of an old house, the court-yard of which looked like + the flue of a chimney. The sides of its plastered, nitrified, and mouldy walls + were so covered with pipes and conduits from all the many floors of its four + elevations, that it might have been said to resemble at that moment the <i>cascatelles</i> + of Saint-Cloud. Water flowed everywhere; it boiled, it leaped, it murmured; + it was black, white, blue, and green; it shrieked, it bubbled under the broom + of the portress, a toothless old woman used to storms, who seemed to bless them + as she swept into the street a mass of scraps an intelligent inventory of which + would have revealed the lives and habits of every dweller in the house,--bits + of printed cottons, tea-leaves, artificial flower-petals faded and worthless, + vegetable parings, papers, scraps of metal. At every sweep of her broom the + old woman bared the soul of the gutter, that black fissure on which a porter's + mind is ever bent. The poor lover examined this scene, like a thousand others + which our heaving Paris presents daily; but he examined it mechanically, as + a man absorbed in thought, when, happening to look up, he found himself all + but nose to nose with a man who had just entered the gateway.</p> +<p>In appearance this man was a beggar, but not the Parisian beggar,-- + that creation without a name in human language; no, this man formed + another type, while presenting on the outside all the ideas suggested + by the word "beggar." He was not marked by those original Parisian + characteristics which strike us so forcibly in the paupers whom + Charlet was fond of representing, with his rare luck in observation,-- + coarse faces reeking of mud, hoarse voices, reddened and bulbous + noses, mouths devoid of teeth but menacing; humble yet terrible + beings, in whom a profound intelligence shining in their eyes seems + like a contradiction. Some of these bold vagabonds have blotched, + cracked, veiny skins; their foreheads are covered with wrinkles, their + hair scanty and dirty, like a wig thrown on a dust-heap. All are gay + in their degradation, and degraded in their joys; all are marked with + the stamp of debauchery, casting their silence as a reproach; their + very attitude revealing fearful thoughts. Placed between crime and + beggary they have no compunctions, and circle prudently around the + scaffold without mounting it, innocent in the midst of crime, and + vicious in their innocence. They often cause a laugh, but they always + cause reflection. One represents to you civilization stunted, + repressed; he comprehends everything, the honor of the galleys, + patriotism, virtue, the malice of a vulgar crime, or the fine + astuteness of elegant wickedness. Another is resigned, a perfect + mimer, but stupid. All have slight yearnings after order and work, but + they are pushed back into their mire by society, which makes no + inquiry as to what there may be of great men, poets, intrepid souls, + and splendid organizations among these vagrants, these gypsies of + Paris; a people eminently good and eminently evil--like all the masses + who suffer--accustomed to endure unspeakable woes, and whom a fatal + power holds ever down to the level of the mire. They all have a dream, + a hope, a happiness,--cards, lottery, or wine.</p> +<p>There was nothing of all this in the personage who now leaned + carelessly against the wall in front of Monsieur de Maulincour, like + some fantastic idea drawn by an artist on the back of a canvas the + front of which is turned to the wall. This tall, spare man, whose + leaden visage expressed some deep but chilling thought, dried up all + pity in the hearts of those who looked at him by the scowling look and + the sarcastic attitude which announced an intention of treating every + man as an equal. His face was of a dirty white, and his wrinkled + skull, denuded of hair, bore a vague resemblance to a block of + granite. A few gray locks on either side of his head fell straight to + the collar of his greasy coat, which was buttoned to the chin. He + resembled both Voltaire and Don Quixote; he was, apparently, scoffing + but melancholy, full of disdain and philosophy, but half-crazy. He + seemed to have no shirt. His beard was long. A rusty black cravat, + much worn and ragged, exposed a protuberant neck deeply furrowed, with + veins as thick as cords. A large brown circle like a bruise was + strongly marked beneath his eyes, He seemed to be at least sixty years + old. His hands were white and clean. His boots were trodden down at + the heels, and full of holes. A pair of blue trousers, mended in + various places, were covered with a species of fluff which made them + offensive to the eye. Whether it was that his damp clothes exhaled a + fetid odor, or that he had in his normal condition the "poor smell" + which belongs to Parisian tenements, just as offices, sacristies, and + hospitals have their own peculiar and rancid fetidness, of which no + words can give the least idea, or whether some other reason affected + them, those in the vicinity of this man immediately moved away and + left him alone. He cast upon them and also upon the officer a calm, + expressionless look, the celebrated look of Monsieur de Talleyrand, a + dull, wan glance, without warmth, a species of impenetrable veil, + beneath which a strong soul hides profound emotions and close + estimation of men and things and events. Not a fold of his face + quivered. His mouth and forehead were impassible; but his eyes moved + and lowered themselves with a noble, almost tragic slowness. There + was, in fact, a whole drama in the motion of those withered eyelids.</p> +<p>The aspect of this stoical figure gave rise in Monsieur de Maulincour + to one of those vagabond reveries which begin with a common question + and end by comprising a world of thought. The storm was past. Monsieur + de Maulincour presently saw no more of the man than the tail of his + coat as it brushed the gate-post, but as he turned to leave his own + place he noticed at his feet a letter which must have fallen from the + unknown beggar when he took, as the baron had seen him take, a + handkerchief from his pocket. The young man picked it up, and read, + involuntarily, the address: "To Monsieur Ferragusse, Rue des Grands- + Augustains, corner of rue Soly."</p> +<p>The letter bore no postmark, and the address prevented Monsieur de + Maulincour from following the beggar and returning it; for there are + few passions that will not fail in rectitude in the long run. The + baron had a presentiment of the opportunity afforded by this windfall. + He determined to keep the letter, which would give him the right to + enter the mysterious house to return it to the strange man, not + doubting that he lived there. Suspicions, vague as the first faint + gleams of daylight, made him fancy relations between this man and + Madame Jules. A jealous lover supposes everything; and it is by + supposing everything and selecting the most probable of their + conjectures that judges, spies, lovers, and observers get at the truth + they are looking for.</p> +<p>"Is the letter for him? Is it from Madame Jules?"</p> +<p>His restless imagination tossed a thousand such questions to him; but when + he read the first words of the letter he smiled. Here it is, textually, in all + the simplicity of its artless phrases and its miserable orthography,--a letter + to which it would be impossible to add anything, or to take anything away, unless + it were the letter itself. But we have yielded to the necessity of punctuating + it. In the original there were neither commas nor stops of any kind, not even + notes of exclamation,--a fact which tends to undervalue the system of notes + and dashes by which modern authors have endeavored to depict the great disasters + of all the passions:--</p> +<blockquote> + <p> Henry,--Among the manny sacrifisis I imposed upon myself for your sake was + that of not giving you anny news of me; but an iresistible voise now compells + me to let you know the wrong you have done me. I know beforehand that your + soul hardened in vise will not pitty me. Your heart is deaf to feeling. Is + it deaf to the cries of nature? But what matter? I must tell you to what a + dredful point you are gilty, and the horror of the position to which you have + brought me. Henry, you knew what I sufered from my first wrong-doing, and + yet you plunged me into the same misery, and then abbandoned me to my dispair + and sufering. Yes, I will say it, the belif I had that you loved me and esteemed + me gave me corage to bare my fate. But now, what have I left? Have you not + made me loose all that was dear to me, all that held me to life; parents, + frends, onor, reputation,--all, I have sacrifised all to you, and nothing + is left me but shame, oprobrum, and--I say this without blushing--poverty. + Nothing was wanting to my misfortunes but the sertainty of your contempt and + hatred; and now I have them I find the corage that my project requires. My + decision is made; the onor of my famly commands it. I must put an end to my + suferins. Make no remarks upon my conduct, Henry; it is orful, I know, but + my condition obliges me. Without help, without suport, without one frend to + comfort me, can I live? No. Fate has desided for me. So in two days, Henry, + two days, Ida will have seased to be worthy of your regard. Oh, Henry! oh, + my frend! for I can never change to you, promise me to forgive me for what + I am going to do. Do not forget that you have driven me to it; it is your + work, and you must judge it. May heven not punish you for all your crimes. + I ask your pardon on my knees, for I feel nothing is wanting to my misery + but the sorow of knowing you unhappy. In spite of the poverty I am in I shall + refuse all help from you. If you had loved me I would have taken all from + your friendship; but a benfit given by pitty <i>my soul refussis</i>. I + would be baser to take it than he who offered it. I have one favor to ask + of you. I don't know how long I must stay at Madame Meynardie's; be genrous + enough not to come there. Your last two vissits did me a harm I cannot get + ofer. I cannot enter into particlers about that conduct of yours. You hate + me,--you said so; that word is writen on my heart, and freeses it with fear. + Alas! it is now, when I need all my corage, all my strength, that my faculties + abandon me. Henry, my frend, before I put a barrier forever between us, give + me a last pruf of your esteem. Write me, answer me, say you respect me still, + though you have seased to love me. My eyes are worthy still to look into yours, + but I do not ask an interfew; I fear my weakness and my love. But for pitty's + sake write me a line at once; it will give me the corage I need to meet my + trubbles. Farewell, orther of all my woes, but the only frend my heart has + chosen and will never forget.</p> + <p>Ida.</p> +</blockquote> +<p> This life of a young girl, with its love betrayed, its fatal joys, its pangs, + its miseries, and its horrible resignation, summed up in a few words, this humble + poem, essentially Parisian, written on dirty paper, influenced for a passing + moment Monsieur de Maulincour. He asked himself whether this Ida might not be + some poor relation of Madame Jules, and that strange rendezvous, which he had + witnessed by chance, the mere necessity of a charitable effort. But could that + old pauper have seduced this Ida? There was something impossible in the very + idea. Wandering in this labyrinth of reflections, which crossed, recrossed, + and obliterated one another, the baron reached the rue Pagevin, and saw a hackney-coach + standing at the end of the rue des Vieux-Augustins where it enters the rue Montmartre. + All waiting hackney-coaches now had an interest for him.</p> +<p>"Can she be there?" he thought to himself, and his heart beat fast + with a hot and feverish throbbing.</p> +<p>He pushed the little door with the bell, but he lowered his head as he + did so, obeying a sense of shame, for a voice said to him secretly:--</p> +<p>"Why are you putting your foot into this mystery?"</p> +<p>He went up a few steps, and found himself face to face with the old + portress.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Ferragus?" he said.</p> +<p>"Don't know him."</p> +<p>"Doesn't Monsieur Ferragus live here?"</p> +<p>"Haven't such a name in the house."</p> +<p>"But, my good woman--"</p> +<p>"I'm not your good woman, monsieur, I'm the portress."</p> +<p>"But, madame," persisted the baron, "I have a letter for Monsieur + Ferragus."</p> +<p>"Ah! if monsieur has a letter," she said, changing her tone, "that's + another matter. Will you let me see it--that letter?"</p> +<p>Auguste showed the folded letter. The old woman shook her head with a + doubtful air, hesitated, seemed to wish to leave the lodge and inform + the mysterious Ferragus of his unexpected visitor, but finally said:--</p> +<p>"Very good; go up, monsieur. I suppose you know the way?"</p> +<p>Without replying to this remark, which he thought might be a trap, the + young officer ran lightly up the stairway, and rang loudly at the door + of the second floor. His lover's instinct told him, "She is there."</p> +<p>The beggar of the porch, Ferragus, the "orther" of Ida's woes, opened + the door himself. He appeared in a flowered dressing-gown, white + flannel trousers, his feet in embroidered slippers, and his face + washed clean of stains. Madame Jules, whose head projected beyond the + casing of the door in the next room, turned pale and dropped into a + chair.</p> +<p>"What is the matter, madame?" cried the officer, springing toward + her.</p> +<p>But Ferragus stretched forth an arm and flung the intruder back with + so sharp a thrust that Auguste fancied he had received a blow with an + iron bar full on his chest.</p> +<p>"Back! monsieur," said the man. "What do you want there? For + five or + six days you have been roaming about the neighborhood. Are you a spy?"</p> +<p>"Are you Monsieur Ferragus?" said the baron.</p> +<p>"No, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Nevertheless," continued Auguste, "it is to you that I must + return + this paper which you dropped in the gateway beneath which we both took + refuge from the rain."</p> +<p>While speaking and offering the letter to the man, Auguste did not + refrain from casting an eye around the room where Ferragus received + him. It was very well arranged, though simply. A fire burned on the + hearth; and near it was a table with food upon it, which was served + more sumptuously than agreed with the apparent conditions of the man + and the poorness of his lodging. On a sofa in the next room, which he + could see through the doorway, lay a heap of gold, and he heard a + sound which could be no other than that of a woman weeping.</p> +<p>"The paper belongs to me; I am much obliged to you," said the + mysterious man, turning away as if to make the baron understand that + he must go.</p> +<p>Too curious himself to take much note of the deep examination of which + he was himself the object, Auguste did not see the half-magnetic + glance with which this strange being seemed to pierce him; had he + encountered that basilisk eye he might have felt the danger that + encompassed him. Too passionately excited to think of himself, Auguste + bowed, went down the stairs, and returned home, striving to find a + meaning in the connection of these three persons,--Ida, Ferragus, and + Madame Jules; an occupation equivalent to that of trying to arrange + the many-cornered bits of a Chinese puzzle without possessing the key + to the game. But Madame Jules had seen him, Madame Jules went there, + Madame Jules had lied to him. Maulincour determined to go and see her + the next day. She could not refuse his visit, for he was now her + accomplice; he was hands and feet in the mysterious affair, and she + knew it. Already he felt himself a sultan, and thought of demanding + from Madame Jules, imperiously, all her secrets.</p> +<p>In those days Paris was seized with a building-fever. If Paris is a + monster, it is certainly a most mania-ridden monster. It becomes + enamored of a thousand fancies: sometimes it has a mania for building, + like a great seigneur who loves a trowel; soon it abandons the trowel + and becomes all military; it arrays itself from head to foot as a + national guard, and drills and smokes; suddenly, it abandons military + manoeuvres and flings away cigars; it is commercial, care-worn, falls + into bankruptcy, sells its furniture on the place de Chatelet, files + its schedule; but a few days later, lo! it has arranged its affairs + and is giving fetes and dances. One day it eats barley-sugar by the + mouthful, by the handful; yesterday it bought "papier Weymen"; to-day + the monster's teeth ache, and it applies to its walls an + alexipharmatic to mitigate their dampness; to-morrow it will lay in a + provision of pectoral paste. It has its manias for the month, for the + season, for the year, like its manias of a day.</p> +<p>So, at the moment of which we speak, all the world was building or + pulling down something,--people hardly knew what as yet. There were + very few streets in which high scaffoldings on long poles could not be + seen, fastened from floor to floor with transverse blocks inserted + into holes in the walls on which the planks were laid,--a frail + construction, shaken by the brick-layers, but held together by ropes, + white with plaster, and insecurely protected from the wheels of + carriages by the breastwork of planks which the law requires round all + such buildings. There is something maritime in these masts, and + ladders, and cordage, even in the shouts of the masons. About a dozen + yards from the hotel Maulincour, one of these ephemeral barriers was + erected before a house which was then being built of blocks of free- + stone. The day after the event we have just related, at the moment + when the Baron de Maulincour was passing this scaffolding in his + cabriolet on his way to see Madame Jules, a stone, two feet square, + which was being raised to the upper storey of this building, got loose + from the ropes and fell, crushing the baron's servant who was behind + the cabriolet. A cry of horror shook both the scaffold and the masons; + one of them, apparently unable to keep his grasp on a pole, was in + danger of death, and seemed to have been touched by the stone as it + passed him.</p> +<p>A crowd collected rapidly; the masons came down the ladders swearing + and insisting that Monsieur de Maulincour's cabriolet had been driven + against the boarding and so had shaken their crane. Two inches more + and the stone would have fallen on the baron's head. The groom was + dead, the carriage shattered. 'Twas an event for the whole + neighborhood, the newspapers told of it. Monsieur de Maulincour, + certain that he had not touched the boarding, complained; the case + went to court. Inquiry being made, it was shown that a small boy, + armed with a lath, had mounted guard and called to all foot-passengers + to keep away. The affair ended there. Monsieur de Maulincour obtained + no redress. He had lost his servant, and was confined to his bed for + some days, for the back of the carriage when shattered had bruised him + severely, and the nervous shock of the sudden surprise gave him a + fever. He did not, therefore, go to see Madame Jules.</p> +<p>Ten days after this event, he left the house for the first time, in + his repaired cabriolet, when, as he drove down the rue de Bourgogne + and was close to the sewer opposite to the Chamber of Deputies, the + axle-tree broke in two, and the baron was driving so rapidly that the + breakage would have caused the two wheels to come together with force + enough to break his head, had it not been for the resistance of the + leather hood. Nevertheless, he was badly wounded in the side. For the + second time in ten days he was carried home in a fainting condition to + his terrified grandmother. This second accident gave him a feeling of + distrust; he thought, though vaguely, of Ferragus and Madame Jules. To + throw light on these suspicions he had the broken axle brought to his + room and sent for his carriage-maker. The man examined the axle and + the fracture, and proved two things: First, the axle was not made in + his workshop; he furnished none that did not bear the initials of his + name on the iron. But he could not explain by what means this axle had + been substituted for the other. Secondly, the breakage of the + suspicious axle was caused by a hollow space having been blown in it + and a straw very cleverly inserted.</p> +<p>"Eh! Monsieur le baron, whoever did that was malicious!" he said; + "any + one would swear, to look at it, that the axle was sound."</p> +<p>Monsieur de Maulincour begged the carriage-maker to say nothing of the + affair; but he felt himself warned. These two attempts at murder were + planned with an ability which denoted the enmity of intelligent minds.</p> +<p>"It is war to the death," he said to himself, as he tossed in his + bed, + --"a war of savages, skulking in ambush, of trickery and treachery, + declared in the name of Madame Jules. What sort of man is this to whom + she belongs? What species of power does this Ferragus wield?"</p> +<p>Monsieur de Maulincour, though a soldier and brave man, could not + repress a shudder. In the midst of many thoughts that now assailed + him, there was one against which he felt he had neither defence nor + courage: might not poison be employed ere long by his secret enemies? + Under the influence of fears, which his momentary weakness and fever + and low diet increased, he sent for an old woman long attached to the + service of his grandmother, whose affection for himself was one of + those semi-maternal sentiments which are the sublime of the + commonplace. Without confiding in her wholly, he charged her to buy + secretly and daily, in different localities, the food he needed; + telling her to keep it under lock and key and bring it to him herself, + not allowing any one, no matter who, to approach her while preparing + it. He took the most minute precautions to protect himself against + that form of death. He was ill in his bed and alone, and he had + therefore the leisure to think of his own security,--the one necessity + clear-sighted enough to enable human egotism to forget nothing!</p> +<p>But the unfortunate man had poisoned his own life by this dread, and, + in spite of himself, suspicion dyed all his hours with its gloomy + tints. These two lessons of attempted assassination did teach him, + however, the value of one of the virtues most necessary to a public + man; he saw the wise dissimulation that must be practised in dealing + with the great interests of life. To be silent about our own secret is + nothing; but to be silent from the start, to forget a fact as Ali + Pacha did for thirty years in order to be sure of a vengeance waited + for for thirty years, is a fine study in a land where there are few + men who can keep their own counsel for thirty days. Monsieur de + Maulincour literally lived only through Madame Jules. He was + perpetually absorbed in a sober examination into the means he ought to + employ to triumph in this mysterious struggle with these mysterious + persons. His secret passion for that woman grew by reason of all these + obstacles. Madame Jules was ever there, erect, in the midst of his + thoughts, in the centre of his heart, more seductive by her presumable + vices than by the positive virtues for which he had made her his idol.</p> +<p>At last, anxious to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, he thought + he might without danger initiate the vidame into the secrets of his + situation. The old commander loved Auguste as a father loves his + wife's children; he was shrewd, dexterous, and very diplomatic. He + listened to the baron, shook his head, and they both held counsel. The + worthy vidame did not share his young friend's confidence when Auguste + declared that in the time in which they now lived, the police and the + government were able to lay bare all mysteries, and that if it were + absolutely necessary to have recourse to those powers, he should find + them most powerful auxiliaries.</p> +<p>The old man replied, gravely: "The police, my dear boy, is the most + incompetent thing on this earth, and government the feeblest in all + matters concerning individuals. Neither the police nor the government + can read hearts. What we might reasonably ask of them is to search for + the causes of an act. But the police and the government are both + eminently unfitted for that; they lack, essentially, the personal + interest which reveals all to him who wants to know all. No human + power can prevent an assassin or a poisoner from reaching the heart of + a prince or the stomach of an honest man. Passions are the best + police."</p> +<p>The vidame strongly advised the baron to go to Italy, and from Italy + to Greece, from Greece to Syria, from Syria to Asia, and not to return + until his secret enemies were convinced of his repentance, and would + so make tacit peace with him. But if he did not take that course, then + the vidame advised him to stay in the house, and even in his own room, + where he would be safe from the attempts of this man Ferragus, and not + to leave it until he could be certain of crushing him.</p> +<p>"We should never touch an enemy until we can be sure of taking his + head off," he said, gravely.</p> +<p>The old man, however, promised his favorite to employ all the + astuteness with which Heaven had provided him (without compromising + any one) in reconnoitring the enemy's ground, and laying his plans for + future victory. The Commander had in his service a retired Figaro, the + wiliest monkey that ever walked in human form; in earlier days as + clever as a devil, working his body like a galley-slave, alert as a + thief, sly as a woman, but now fallen into the decadence of genius for + want of practice since the new constitution of Parisian society, which + has reformed even the valets of comedy. This Scapin emeritus was + attached to his master as to a superior being; but the shrewd old + vidame added a good round sum yearly to the wages of his former + provost of gallantry, which strengthened the ties of natural affection + by the bonds of self-interest, and obtained for the old gentleman as + much care as the most loving mistress could bestow on a sick friend. + It was this pearl of the old-fashioned comedy-valets, relic of the + last century, auxiliary incorruptible from lack of passions to + satisfy, on whom the old vidame and Monsieur de Maulincour now relied.</p> +<p>"Monsieur le baron will spoil all," said the great man in livery, + when + called into counsel. "Monsieur should eat, drink, and sleep in peace. + I take the whole matter upon myself."</p> +<p>Accordingly, eight days after the conference, when Monsieur de + Maulincour, perfectly restored to health, was breakfasting with his + grandmother and the vidame, Justin entered to make his report. As soon + as the dowager had returned to her own apartments he said, with that + mock modesty which men of talent are so apt to affect:--</p> +<p>"Ferragus is not the name of the enemy who is pursuing Monsieur le + baron. This man--this devil, rather--is called Gratien, Henri, Victor, + Jean-Joseph Bourignard. The Sieur Gratien Bourignard is a former ship- + builder, once very rich, and, above all, one of the handsomest men of + his day in Paris,--a Lovelace, capable of seducing Grandison. My + information stops short there. He has been a simple workman; and the + Companions of the Order of the Devorants did, at one time, elect him + as their chief, under the title of Ferragus XXIII. The police ought to + know that, if the police were instituted to know anything. The man has + moved from the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and now roosts rue Joquelet, + where Madame Jules Desmarets goes frequently to see him; sometimes her + husband, on his way to the Bourse, drives her as far as the rue + Vivienne, or she drives her husband to the Bourse. Monsieur le vidame + knows about these things too well to want me to tell him if it is the + husband who takes the wife, or the wife who takes the husband; but + Madame Jules is so pretty, I'd bet on her. All that I have told you is + positive. Bourignard often plays at number 129. Saving your presence, + monsieur, he's a rogue who loves women, and he has his little ways + like a man of condition. As for the rest, he wins sometimes, disguises + himself like an actor, paints his face to look like anything he + chooses, and lives, I may say, the most original life in the world. I + don't doubt he has a good many lodgings, for most of the time he + manages to evade what Monsieur le vidame calls "parliamentary + investigations." If monsieur wishes, he could be disposed of + honorably, seeing what his habits are. It is always easy to get rid of + a man who loves women. However, this capitalist talks about moving + again. Have Monsieur le vidame and Monsieur le baron any other + commands to give me?"</p> +<p>"Justin, I am satisfied with you; don't go any farther in the matter + without my orders, but keep a close watch here, so that Monsieur le + baron may have nothing to fear."</p> +<p>"My dear boy," continued the vidame, when they were alone, "go + back to + your old life, and forget Madame Jules."</p> +<p>"No, no," said Auguste; "I will never yield to Gratien Bourignard. + I + will have him bound hand and foot, and Madame Jules also."</p> +<p>That evening the Baron Auguste de Maulincour, recently promoted to + higher rank in the company of the Body-Guard of the king, went to a + ball given by Madame la Duchesse de Berry at the Elysee-Bourbon. + There, certainly, no danger could lurk for him; and yet, before he + left the palace, he had an affair of honor on his hands,--an affair it + was impossible to settle except by a duel.</p> +<p>His adversary, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, considered that he had + strong reasons to complain of Monsieur de Maulincour, who had given + some ground for it during his former intimacy with Monsieur de + Ronquerolles' sister, the Comtesse de Serizy. That lady, the one who + detested German sentimentality, was all the more exacting in the + matter of prudery. By one of those inexplicable fatalities, Auguste + now uttered a harmless jest which Madame de Serizy took amiss, and her + brother resented it. The discussion took place in the corner of a + room, in a low voice. In good society, adversaries never raise their + voices. The next day the faubourg Saint-Germain and the Chateau talked + over the affair. Madame de Serizy was warmly defended, and all the + blame was laid on Maulincour. August personages interfered. Seconds of + the highest distinction were imposed on Messieurs de Maulincour and de + Ronquerolles and every precaution was taken on the ground that no one + should be killed.</p> +<p>When Auguste found himself face to face with his antagonist, a man of + pleasure, to whom no one could possibly deny sentiments of the highest + honor, he felt it was impossible to believe him the instrument of + Ferragus, chief of the Devorants; and yet he was compelled, as it + were, by an inexplicable presentiment, to question the marquis.</p> +<p>"Messieurs," he said to the seconds, "I certainly do not refuse + to + meet the fire of Monsieur de Ronquerolles; but before doing so, I here + declare that I was to blame, and I offer him whatever excuses he may + desire, and publicly if he wishes it; because when the matter concerns + a woman, nothing, I think, can degrade a man of honor. I therefore + appeal to his generosity and good sense; is there not something rather + silly in fighting without a cause?"</p> +<p>Monsieur de Ronquerolles would not allow of this way of ending the + affair, and then the baron, his suspicions revived, walked up to him.</p> +<p>"Well, then! Monsieur le marquis," he said, "pledge me, in presence + of + these gentlemen, your word as a gentleman that you have no other + reason for vengeance than that you have chosen to put forward."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, that is a question you have no right to ask."</p> +<p>So saying, Monsieur de Ronquerolles took his place. It was agreed, in + advance, that the adversaries were to be satisfied with one exchange + of shots. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, in spite of the great distance + determined by the seconds, which seemed to make the death of either + party problematical, if not impossible, brought down the baron. The + ball went through the latter's body just below the heart, but + fortunately without doing vital injury.</p> +<p>"You aimed too well, monsieur," said the baron, "to be avenging + only a + paltry quarrel."</p> +<p>And he fainted. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, who believed him to be a + dead man, smiled sardonically as he heard those words.</p> +<p>After a fortnight, during which time the dowager and the vidame gave + him those cares of old age the secret of which is in the hands of long + experience only, the baron began to return to life. But one morning + his grandmother dealt him a crushing blow, by revealing anxieties to + which, in her last days, she was now subjected. She showed him a + letter signed F, in which the history of her grandson's secret + espionage was recounted step by step. The letter accused Monsieur de + Maulincour of actions that were unworthy of a man of honor. He had, it + said, placed an old woman at the stand of hackney-coaches in the rue + de Menars; an old spy, who pretended to sell water from her cask to + the coachmen, but who was really there to watch the actions of Madame + Jules Desmarets. He had spied upon the daily life of a most + inoffensive man, in order to detect his secrets,--secrets on which + depended the lives of three persons. He had brought upon himself a + relentless struggle, in which, although he had escaped with life three + times, he must inevitably succumb, because his death had been sworn + and would be compassed if all human means were employed upon it. + Monsieur de Maulincour could no longer escape his fate by even + promising to respect the mysterious life of these three persons, + because it was impossible to believe the word of a gentleman who had + fallen to the level of a police-spy; and for what reason? Merely to + trouble the respectable life of an innocent woman and a harmless old + man.</p> +<p>The letter itself was nothing to Auguste in comparison to the tender + reproaches of his grandmother. To lack respect to a woman! to spy upon + her actions without a right to do so! Ought a man ever to spy upon a + woman whom he loved?--in short, she poured out a torrent of those + excellent reasons which prove nothing; and they put the young baron, + for the first time in his life, into one of those great human furies + in which are born, and from which issue the most vital actions of a + man's life.</p> +<p>"Since it is war to the knife," he said in conclusion, "I shall + kill + my enemy by any means that I can lay hold of."</p> +<p>The vidame went immediately, at Auguste's request, to the chief of the + private police of Paris, and without bringing Madame Jules' name or + person into the narrative, although they were really the gist of it, + he made the official aware of the fears of the family of Maulincour + about this mysterious person who was bold enough to swear the death of + an officer of the Guards, in defiance of the law and the police. The + chief pushed up his green spectacles in amazement, blew his nose + several times, and offered snuff to the vidame, who, to save his + dignity, pretended not to use tobacco, although his own nose was + discolored with it. Then the chief took notes and promised, Vidocq and + his spies aiding, to send in a report within a few days to the + Maulincour family, assuring them meantime that there were no secrets + for the police of Paris.</p> +<p>A few days after this the police official called to see the vidame at + the Hotel de Maulincour, where he found the young baron quite + recovered from his last wound. He gave them in bureaucratic style his + thanks for the indications they had afforded him, and told them that + Bourignard was a convict, condemned to twenty years' hard labor, who + had miraculously escaped from a gang which was being transported from + Bicetre to Toulon. For thirteen years the police had been endeavoring + to recapture him, knowing that he had boldly returned to Paris; but so + far this convict had escaped the most active search, although he was + known to be mixed up in many nefarious deeds. However, the man, whose + life was full of very curious incidents, would certainly be captured + now in one or other of his several domiciles and delivered up to + justice. The bureaucrat ended his report by saying to Monsieur de + Maulincour that if he attached enough importance to the matter to wish + to witness the capture of Bourignard, he might come the next day at + eight in the morning to a house in the rue Sainte-Foi, of which he + gave him the number. Monsieur de Maulincour excused himself from going + personally in search of certainty,--trusting, with the sacred respect + inspired by the police of Paris, in the capability of the authorities.</p> +<p>Three days later, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing in the + newspapers about the projected arrest, which was certainly of enough + importance to have furnished an article, Monsieur de Maulincour was + beginning to feel anxieties which were presently allayed by the + following letter:--</p> +<p> Monsieur le Baron,--I have the honor to announce to you that you + need have no further uneasiness touching the affair in question. + The man named Gratien Bourignard, otherwise called Ferragus, died + yesterday, at his lodgings, rue Joquelet No. 7. The suspicions we + naturally conceived as to the identity of the dead body have been + completely set at rest by the facts. The physician of the + Prefecture of police was despatched by us to assist the physician + of the arrondissement, and the chief of the detective police made + all the necessary verifications to obtain absolute certainty. + Moreover, the character of the persons who signed the certificate + of death, and the affidavits of those who took care of the said + Bourignard in his last illness, among others that of the worthy + vicar of the church of the Bonne-Nouvelle (to whom he made his + last confession, for he died a Christian), do not permit us to + entertain any sort of doubt.</p> +<p>Accept, Monsieur le baron, etc., etc.</p> +<p> + Monsieur de Maulincour, the dowager, and the vidame breathed again + with joy unspeakable. The good old woman kissed her grandson leaving a + tear upon his cheek, and went away to thank God in prayer. The dear + soul, who was making a novena for Auguste's safety, believed her + prayers were answered.</p> +<p>"Well," said the vidame, "now you had better show yourself at + the ball you were speaking of. I oppose no further objections."</p> +<p> </p> +<h2 align="center"></h2> +<h2 align="center">CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3 align="center">THE WIFE ACCUSED</h3> +<p>Monsieur de Maulincour was all the more anxious to go to this ball because + he knew that Madame Jules would be present. The fete was given by the Prefect + of the Seine, in whose salons the two social worlds of Paris met as on neutral + ground. Auguste passed through the rooms without finding the woman who now exercised + so mighty an influence on his fate. He entered an empty boudoir where card-tables + were placed awaiting players; and sitting down on a divan he gave himself up + to the most contradictory thoughts about her. A man presently took the young + officer by the arm, and looking up the baron was stupefied to behold the pauper + of the rue Coquilliere, the Ferragus of Ida, the lodger in the rue Soly, the + Bourignard of Justin, the convict of the police, and the dead man of the day + before.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, not a sound, not a word," said Bourignard, whose voice + he recognized. The man was elegantly dressed; he wore the order of the Golden-Fleece, + and a medal on his coat. "Monsieur," he continued, and his voice was + sibilant like that of a hyena, "you increase my efforts against you by + having recourse to the police. You will perish, monsieur; it has now become + necessary. Do you love Madame Jules? Are you beloved by her? By what right do + you trouble her peaceful life, and blacken her virtue?"</p> +<p> Some one entered the card-room. Ferragus rose to go.</p> +<p> "Do you know this man?" asked Monsieur de Maulincour of the new-comer, + seizing Ferragus by the collar. But Ferragus quickly disengaged himself, took + Monsieur de Maulincour by the hair, and shook his head rapidly.</p> +<p> "Must you have lead in it to make it steady?" he said.</p> +<p> "I do not know him personally," replied Henri de Marsay, the spectator + of this scene, "but I know that he is Monsieur de Funcal, a rich Portuguese."</p> +<p> Monsieur de Funcal had disappeared. The baron followed but without being able + to overtake him until he reached the peristyle, where he saw Ferragus, who looked + at him with a jeering laugh from a brilliant equipage which was driven away + at high speed.</p> +<p> "Monsieur," said Auguste, re-entering the salon and addressing de + Marsay, whom he knew, "I entreat you to tell me where Monsieur de Funcal + lives."</p> +<p> "I do not know; but some one here can no doubt tell you."</p> +<p> The baron, having questioned the prefect, ascertained that the Comte de Funcal + lived at the Portuguese embassy. At this moment, while he still felt the icy + fingers of that strange man in his hair, he saw Madame Jules in all her dazzling + beauty, fresh, gracious, artless, resplendent with the sanctity of womanhood + which had won his love.<br> + This creature, now infernal to him, excited no emotion in his soul but that + of hatred; and this hatred shone in a savage, terrible look from his eyes. He + watched for a moment when he could speak to her unheard, and then he said:--</p> +<p> "Madame, your <i>bravi</i> have missed me three times."</p> +<p> "What do you mean, monsieur?" she said, flushing. "I know that + you have had several unfortunate accidents lately, which I have greatly regretted; + but how could I have had anything to do with them?"</p> +<p> "You knew that <i>bravi</i> were employed against me by that man of + the rue Soly?"</p> +<p> "Monsieur!"</p> +<p> "Madame, I now call you to account, not for my happiness only, but for + my blood--"</p> +<p> At this instant Jules Desmarets approached them.</p> +<p> "What are you saying to my wife, monsieur?"</p> +<p> "Make that inquiry at my own house, monsieur, if you are curious,"<br> + said Maulincour, moving away, and leaving Madame Jules in an almost fainting + condition.</p> +<p> There are few women who have not found themselves, once at least in their + lives, <i>a propos</i> of some undeniable fact, confronted with a direct, + sharp, uncompromising question,--one of those questions pitilessly asked by + husbands, the mere apprehension of which gives a chill, while the actual words + enter the heart like the blade of a dagger. It is from such crises that the + maxim has come, "All women lie." Falsehood, kindly falsehood, venial + falsehood, sublime falsehood, horrible falsehood,--but always the necessity + to lie. This necessity admitted, ought they not to know how to lie well? French + women do it admirably. Our manners and customs teach them deception!<br> + Besides, women are so naively saucy, so pretty, graceful, and withal so true + in lying,--they recognize so fully the utility of doing so in order to avoid + in social life the violent shocks which happiness might not resist,--that lying + is seen to be as necessary to their lives as the cotton-wool in which they put + away their jewels. Falsehood becomes to them the foundation of speech; truth + is exceptional; they tell it, if they are virtuous, by caprice or by calculation. + According to individual character, some women laugh when they lie; others weep; + others are grave; some grow angry. After beginning life by feigning indifference + to the homage that deeply flatters them, they often end by lying to themselves. + Who has not admired their apparent superiority to everything at the very moment + when they are trembling for the secret treasures of their love? Who has never + studied their ease, their readiness, their freedom of mind in the greatest embarrassments + of life? In them, nothing is put on. Deception comes as the snow from heaven. + And then, with what art they discover the truth in others!<br> + With what shrewdness they employ a direct logic in answer to some passionate + question which has revealed to them the secret of the heart of a man who was + guileless enough to proceed by questioning! To question a woman! why, that is + delivering one's self up to her; does she not learn in that way all that we + seek to hide from her? Does she not know also how to be dumb, through speaking? + What men are daring enough to struggle with the Parisian woman?--a woman who + knows how to hold herself above all dagger thrusts, saying: "You are very + inquisitive; what is it to you? Why do you wish to know? Ah! you are jealous! + And suppose I do not choose to answer you?"--in short, a woman who possesses + the hundred and thirty-seven methods of saying <i>No</i>, and incommensurable + variations of the word <i>Yes</i>. Is not a treatise on the words <i>yes</i> + and <i>no</i>, a fine diplomatic, philosophic, logographic, and moral work, + still waiting to be written? But to accomplish this work, which we may also + call diabolic, isn't an androgynous genius necessary? For that reason, probably, + it will never be attempted. And besides, of all unpublished works isn't it the + best known and the best practised among women? Have you studied the behavior, + the pose, the <i>disinvoltura</i> of a falsehood? Examine it.</p> +<p> Madame Desmarets was seated in the right-hand corner of her carriage, her + husband in the left. Having forced herself to recover from her emotion in the + ballroom, she now affected a calm demeanor. Her husband had then said nothing + to her, and he still said nothing. Jules looked out of the carriage window at + the black walls of the silent houses before which they passed; but suddenly, + as if driven by a determining thought, when turning the corner of a street he + examined his wife, who appeared to be cold in spite of the fur-lined pelisse + in which she was wrapped. He thought she seemed pensive, and perhaps she really + was so.<br> + Of all communicable things, reflection and gravity are the most contagious.</p> +<p> "What could Monsieur de Maulincour have said to affect you so keenly?"<br> + said Jules; "and why does he wish me to go to his house and find out?"</p> +<p> "He can tell you nothing in his house that I cannot tell you here,"<br> + she replied.</p> +<p> Then, with that feminine craft which always slightly degrades virtue, Madame + Jules waited for another question. Her husband turned his face back to the houses, + and continued his study of their walls. Another question would imply suspicion, + distrust. To suspect a woman is a crime in love. Jules had already killed a + man for doubting his wife.<br> + Clemence did not know all there was of true passion, of loyal reflection, in + her husband's silence; just as Jules was ignorant of the generous drama that + was wringing the heart of his Clemence.</p> +<p> The carriage rolled on through a silent Paris, bearing the couple,-- two lovers + who adored each other, and who, gently leaning on the same silken cushion, were + being parted by an abyss. In these elegant coupes returning from a ball between + midnight and two in the morning, how many curious and singular scenes must pass,--meaning + those coupes with lanterns, which light both the street and the carriage, those + with their windows unshaded; in short, legitimate coupes, in which couples can + quarrel without caring for the eyes of pedestrians, because the civil code gives + a right to provoke, or beat, or kiss, a wife in a carriage or elsewhere, anywhere, + everywhere! How many secrets must be revealed in this way to nocturnal pedestrians,--to + those young fellows who have gone to a ball in a carriage, but are obliged, + for whatever cause it may be, to return on foot. It was the first time that + Jules and Clemence had been together thus,--each in a corner; usually the husband + pressed close to his wife.</p> +<p> "It is very cold," remarked Madame Jules.</p> +<p> But her husband did not hear her; he was studying the signs above the shop + windows.</p> +<p> "Clemence," he said at last, "forgive me the question I am + about to ask you."</p> +<p> He came closer, took her by the waist, and drew her to him.</p> +<p> "My God, it is coming!" thought the poor woman. "Well," + she said aloud, anticipating the question, "you want to know what Monsieur + de Maulincour said to me. I will tell you, Jules; but not without fear.<br> + Good God! how is it possible that you and I should have secrets from one another? + For the last few moments I have seen you struggling between a conviction of + our love and vague fears. But that conviction is clear within us, is it not? + And these doubts and fears, do they not seem to you dark and unnatural? Why + not stay in that clear light of love you cannot doubt? When I have told you + all, you will still desire to know more; and yet I myself do not know what the + extraordinary words of that man meant. What I fear is that this may lead to + some fatal affair between you. I would rather that we both forget this unpleasant + moment. But, in any case, swear to me that you will let this singular adventure + explain itself naturally. Here are the facts.<br> + Monsieur de Maulincour declared to me that the three accidents you have heard + mentioned--the falling of a stone on his servant, the breaking down of his cabriolet, + and his duel about Madame de Serizy-- were the result of some plot I had laid + against him. He also threatened to reveal to you the cause of my desire to destroy + him. Can you imagine what all this means? My emotion came from the sight of + his face convulsed with madness, his haggard eyes, and also his words, broken + by some violent inward emotion. I thought him mad. That is all that took place. + Now, I should be less than a woman if I had not perceived that for over a year + I have become, as they call it, the passion of Monsieur de Maulincour. He has + never seen me except at a ball; and our intercourse has been most insignificant,--merely + that which every one shares at a ball. Perhaps he wants to disunite us, so that + he may find me at some future time alone and unprotected. There, see! already + you are frowning! Oh, how cordially I hate society! We were so happy without + him; why take any notice of him? Jules, I entreat you, forget all this! To-morrow + we shall, no doubt, hear that Monsieur de Maulincour has gone mad."</p> +<p> "What a singular affair!" thought Jules, as the carriage stopped + under the peristyle of their house. He gave his arm to his wife and together + they went up to their apartments.</p> +<p> To develop this history in all its truth of detail, and to follow its course + through many windings, it is necessary here to divulge some of love's secrets, + to glide beneath the ceilings of a marriage chamber, not shamelessly, but like + Trilby, frightening neither Dougal nor Jeannie, alarming no one,--being as chaste + as our noble French language requires, and as bold as the pencil of Gerard in + his picture of Daphnis and Chloe.</p> +<p> The bedroom of Madame Jules was a sacred plot. Herself, her husband, and her + maid alone entered it. Opulence has glorious privileges, and the most enviable + are those which enable the development of sentiments to their fullest extent,--fertilizing + them by the accomplishment of even their caprices, and surrounding them with + a brilliancy that enlarges them, with refinements that purify them, with a thousand + delicacies that make them still more alluring. If you hate dinners on the grass, + and meals ill-served, if you feel a pleasure in seeing a damask cloth that is + dazzlingly white, a silver-gilt dinner service, and porcelain of exquisite purity, + lighted by transparent candles, where miracles of cookery are served under silver + covers bearing coats of arms, you must, to be consistent, leave the garrets + at the tops of the houses, and the grisettes in the streets, abandon garrets, + grisettes, umbrellas, and overshoes to men who pay for their dinners with tickets; + and you must also comprehend Love to be a principle which develops in all its + grace only on Savonnerie carpets, beneath the opal gleams of an alabaster lamp, + between guarded walls silk-hung, before gilded hearths in chambers deadened + to all outward sounds by shutters and billowy curtains. Mirrors must be there + to show the play of form and repeat the woman we would multiply as love itself + multiplies and magnifies her; next low divans, and a bed which, like a secret, + is divined, not shown. In this coquettish chamber are fur- lined slippers for + pretty feet, wax-candles under glass with muslin draperies, by which to read + at all hours of the night, and flowers, not those oppressive to the head, and + linen, the fineness of which might have satisfied Anne of Austria.</p> +<p> Madame Jules had realized this charming programme, but that was nothing. All + women of taste can do as much, though there is always in the arrangement of + these details a stamp of personality which gives to this decoration or that + detail a character that cannot be imitated.<br> + To-day, more than ever, reigns the fanaticism of individuality. The more our + laws tend to an impossible equality, the more we shall get away from it in our + manners and customs. Thus, rich people are beginning, in France, to become more + exclusive in their tastes and their belongings, than they have been for the + last thirty years.<br> + Madame Jules knew very well how to carry out this programme; and everything + about her was arranged in harmony with a luxury that suits so well with love. + Love in a cottage, or "Fifteen hundred francs and my Sophy," is the + dream of starvelings to whom black bread suffices in their present state; but + when love really comes, they grow fastidious and end by craving the luxuries + of gastronomy. Love holds toil and poverty in horror. It would rather die than + merely live on from hand to mouth.</p> +<p> Many women, returning from a ball, impatient for their beds, throw off their + gowns, their faded flowers, their bouquets, the fragrance of which has now departed. + They leave their little shoes beneath a chair, the white strings trailing; they + take out their combs and let their hair roll down as it will. Little they care + if their husbands see the puffs, the hairpins, the artful props which supported + the elegant edifices of the hair, and the garlands or the jewels that adorned + it.<br> + No more mysteries! all is over for the husband; no more painting or decoration + for him. The corset--half the time it is a corset of a reparative kind--lies + where it is thrown, if the maid is too sleepy to take it away with her. The + whalebone bustle, the oiled-silk protections round the sleeves, the pads, the + hair bought from a coiffeur, all the false woman is there, scattered about in + open sight.<br> + <i>Disjecta membra poetae</i>, the artificial poesy, so much admired by those + for whom it is conceived and elaborated, the fragments of a pretty woman, litter + every corner of the room. To the love of a yawning husband, the actual presents + herself, also yawning, in a dishabille without elegance, and a tumbled night-cap, + that of last night and that of to-morrow night also,--"For really, monsieur, + if you want a pretty cap to rumple every night, increase my pin-money."</p> +<p> There's life as it is! A woman makes herself old and unpleasing to her husband; + but dainty and elegant and adorned for others, for the rival of all husbands,--for + that world which calumniates and tears to shreds her sex.</p> +<p> Inspired by true love, for Love has, like other creations, its instinct of + preservation, Madame Jules did very differently; she found in the constant blessing + of her love the necessary impulse to fulfil all those minute personal cares + which ought never to be relaxed, because they perpetuate love. Besides, such + personal cares and duties proceed from a personal dignity which becomes all + women, and are among the sweetest of flatteries, for is it not respecting in + themselves the man they love?</p> +<p> So Madame Jules denied to her husband all access to her dressing-room, where + she left the accessories of her toilet, and whence she issued mysteriously adorned + for the mysterious fetes of her heart. Entering their chamber, which was always + graceful and elegant, Jules found a woman coquettishly wrapped in a charming + <i>peignoir</i>, her hair simply wound in heavy coils around her head; a woman + always more simple, more beautiful there than she was before the world; a woman + just refreshed in water, whose only artifice consisted in being whiter than + her muslins, sweeter than all perfumes, more seductive than any siren, always + loving and therefore always loved. This admirable understanding of a wife's + business was the secret of Josephine's charm for Napoleon, as in former times + it was that of Caesonia for Caius Caligula, of Diane de Poitiers for Henri II. + If it was largely productive to women of seven or eight lustres what a weapon + is it in the hands of young women! A husband gathers with delight the rewards + of his fidelity.</p> +<p> Returning home after the conversation which had chilled her with fear, and + still gave her the keenest anxiety, Madame Jules took particular pains with + her toilet for the night. She wanted to make herself, and she did make herself + enchanting. She belted the cambric of her dressing-gown round her waist, defining + the lines of her bust; she allowed her hair to fall upon her beautifully modelled + shoulders. A perfumed bath had given her a delightful fragrance, and her little + bare feet were in velvet slippers. Strong in a sense of her advantages she came + in stepping softly, and put her hands over her husband's eyes. She thought him + pensive; he was standing in his dressing-gown before the fire, his elbow on + the mantel and one foot on the fender.<br> + She said in his ear, warming it with her breath, and nibbling the tip of it + with her teeth:--</p> +<p> "What are you thinking about, monsieur?"</p> +<p> Then she pressed him in her arms as if to tear him away from all evil thoughts. + The woman who loves has a full knowledge of her power; the more virtuous she + is, the more effectual her coquetry.</p> +<p> "About you," he answered.</p> +<p> "Only about me?"</p> +<p> "Yes."</p> +<p> "Ah! that's a very doubtful 'yes.'"</p> +<p> They went to bed. As she fell asleep, Madame Jules said to herself:--</p> +<p> "Monsieur de Maulincour will certainly cause some evil. Jules' mind is + preoccupied, disturbed; he is nursing thoughts he does not tell me."</p> +<p> It was three in the morning when Madame Jules was awakened by a presentiment + which struck her heart as she slept. She had a sense both physical and moral + of her husband's absence. She did not feel the arm Jules passed beneath her + head,--that arm in which she had slept, peacefully and happy, for five years; + an arm she had never wearied. A voice said to her, "Jules suffers, Jules + is weeping." She raised her head, and then sat up; felt that her husband's + place was cold, and saw him sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, + his head resting against the back of an arm-chair. Tears were on his cheeks. + The poor woman threw herself hastily from her bed and sprang at a bound to her + husband's knees.</p> +<p> "Jules! what is it? Are you ill? Speak, tell me! Speak to me, if you + love me!" and she poured out a hundred words expressing the deepest tenderness.</p> +<p> Jules knelt at her feet, kissed her hands and knees, and answered with fresh + tears:--</p> +<p> "Dear Clemence, I am most unhappy! It is not loving to distrust the one + we love. I adore you and suspect you. The words that man said to me to-night + have struck to my heart; they stay there in spite of myself, and confound me. + There is some mystery here. In short, and I blush to say it, your explanations + do not satisfy me. My reason casts gleams into my soul which my love rejects. + It is an awful combat.<br> + Could I stay there, holding your head, and suspecting thoughts within it to + me unknown? Oh! I believe in you, I believe in you!" he cried, seeing her + smile sadly and open her mouth as if to speak. "Say nothing; do not reproach + me. Besides, could you say anything I have not said myself for the last three + hours? Yes, for three hours, I have been here, watching you as you slept, so + beautiful! admiring that pure, peaceful brow. Yes, yes! you have always told + me your thoughts, have you not? I alone am in that soul. While I look at you, + while my eyes can plunge into yours I see all plainly. Your life is as pure + as your glance is clear. No, there is no secret behind those transparent eyes." + He rose and kissed their lids. "Let me avow to you, dearest soul," + he said, "that for the last five years each day has increased my happiness, + through the knowledge that you are all mine, and that no natural affection even + can take any of your love. Having no sister, no father, no mother, no companion, + I am neither above nor below any living being in your heart; I am alone there. + Clemence, repeat to me those sweet things of the spirit you have so often said + to me; do not blame me; comfort me, I am so unhappy. I have an odious suspicion + on my conscience, and you have nothing in your heart to sear it. My beloved, + tell me, could I stay there beside you? Could two heads united as ours have + been lie on the same pillow when one was suffering and the other tranquil? What + are you thinking of?" he cried abruptly, observing that Clemence was anxious, + confused, and seemed unable to restrain her tears.</p> +<p> "I am thinking of my mother," she answered, in a grave voice. "You + will never know, Jules, what I suffer in remembering my mother's dying farewell, + said in a voice sweeter than all music, and in feeling the solemn touch of her + icy hand at a moment when you overwhelm me with those assurances of your precious + love."</p> +<p> She raised her husband, strained him to her with a nervous force greater than + that of men, and kissed his hair, covering it with tears.</p> +<p> "Ah! I would be hacked in pieces for you! Tell me that I make you happy; + that I am to you the most beautiful of women--a thousand women to you. Oh! you + are loved as no other man ever was or will be. I don't know the meaning of those + words 'duty,' 'virtue.' Jules, I love you for yourself; I am happy in loving + you; I shall love you more and more to my dying day. I have pride in my love; + I feel it is my destiny to have one sole emotion in my life. What I shall tell + you now is dreadful, I know--but I am glad to have no child; I do not wish for + any. I feel I am more wife than mother. Well, then, can you fear?<br> + Listen to me, my own beloved, promise to forget, not this hour of mingled tenderness + and doubt, but the words of that madman. Jules, you <i>must</i>. Promise me + not to see him, not to go to him. I have a deep conviction that if you set one + foot in that maze we shall both roll down a precipice where I shall perish--but + with your name upon my lips, your heart in my heart. Why hold me so high in + that heart and yet so low in reality? What! you who give credit to so many as + to money, can you not give me the charity of faith? And on the first occasion + in our lives when you might prove to me your boundless trust, do you cast me + from my throne in your heart? Between a madman and me, it is the madman whom + you choose to believe? oh, Jules!" She stopped, threw back the hair that + fell about her brow and neck, and then, in a heart-rending tone, she added: + "I have said too much; one word should suffice. If your soul and your forehead + still keep this cloud, however light it be, I tell you now that I shall die + of it."</p> +<p> She could not repress a shudder, and turned pale.</p> +<p> "Oh! I will kill that man," thought Jules, as he lifted his wife + in his arms and carried her to her bed.</p> +<p> "Let us sleep in peace, my angel," he said. "I have forgotten + all, I swear it!"</p> +<p> Clemence fell asleep to the music of those sweet words, softly repeated. Jules, + as he watched her sleeping, said in his heart:--</p> +<p> "She is right; when love is so pure, suspicion blights it. To that young + soul, that tender flower, a blight--yes, a blight means death."</p> +<p> When a cloud comes between two beings filled with affection for each other + and whose lives are in absolute unison, that cloud, though it may disperse, + leaves in those souls a trace of its passage. Either love gains a stronger life, + as the earth after rain, or the shock still echoes like distant thunder through + a cloudless sky. It is impossible to recover absolutely the former life; love + will either increase or diminish.</p> +<p> At breakfast, Monsieur and Madame Jules showed to each other those particular + attentions in which there is always something of affectation. There were glances + of forced gaiety, which seemed the efforts of persons endeavoring to deceive + themselves. Jules had involuntary doubts, his wife had positive fears. Still, + sure of each other, they had slept. Was this strained condition the effect of + a want of faith, or was it only a memory of their nocturnal scene? They did + not know themselves. But they loved each other so purely that the impression + of that scene, both cruel and beneficent, could not fail to leave its traces + in their souls; both were eager to make those traces disappear, each striving + to be the first to return to the other, and thus they could not fail to think + of the cause of their first variance. To loving souls, this is not grief; pain + is still far-off; but it is a sort of mourning, which is difficult to depict. + If there are, indeed, relations between colors and the emotions of the soul, + if, as Locke's blind man said, scarlet produces on the sight the effect produced + upon the hearing by a blast of trumpets, it is permissible to compare this reaction + of melancholy to mourning tones of gray.</p> +<p> But even so, love saddened, love in which remains a true sentiment of its + happiness, momentarily troubled though it be, gives enjoyments derived from + pain and pleasure both, which are all novel. Jules studied his wife's voice; + he watched her glances with the freshness of feeling that inspired him in the + earliest days of his passion for her.<br> + The memory of five absolutely happy years, her beauty, the candor of her love, + quickly effaced in her husband's mind the last vestiges of an intolerable pain.</p> +<p> The day was Sunday,--a day on which there was no Bourse and no business to + be done. The reunited pair passed the whole day together, getting farther into + each other's hearts than they ever yet had done, like two children who in a + moment of fear, hold each other closely and cling together, united by an instinct. + There are in this life of two- in-one completely happy days, the gift of chance, + ephemeral flowers, born neither of yesterday nor belonging to the morrow. Jules + and Clemence now enjoyed this day as though they forboded it to be the last + of their loving life. What name shall we give to that mysterious power which + hastens the steps of travellers before the storm is visible; which makes the + life and beauty of the dying so resplendent, and fills the parting soul with + joyous projects for days before death comes; which tells the midnight student + to fill his lamp when it shines brightest; and makes the mother fear the thoughtful + look cast upon her infant by an observing man? We all are affected by this influence + in the great catastrophes of life; but it has never yet been named or studied; + it is something more than presentiment, but not as yet clear vision.</p> +<p> All went well till the following day. On Monday, Jules Desmarets, obliged + to go to the Bourse on his usual business, asked his wife, as usual, if she + would take advantage of his carriage and let him drive her anywhere.</p> +<p> "No," she said, "the day is too unpleasant to go out."</p> +<p> It was raining in torrents. At half-past two o'clock Monsieur Desmarets reached + the Treasury. At four o'clock, as he left the Bourse, he came face to face with + Monsieur de Maulincour, who was waiting for him with the nervous pertinacity + of hatred and vengeance.</p> +<p> "Monsieur," he said, taking Monsieur Desmarets by the arm, "I + have important information to give you. Listen to me. I am too loyal a man to + have recourse to anonymous letters with which to trouble your peace of mind; + I prefer to speak to you in person. Believe me, if my very life were not concerned, + I should not meddle with the private affairs of any household, even if I thought + I had the right to do so."</p> +<p> "If what you have to say to me concerns Madame Desmarets," replied + Jules, "I request you to be silent, monsieur."</p> +<p> "If I am silent, monsieur, you may before long see Madame Jules on the + prisoner's bench at the court of assizes beside a convict. Now, do you wish + me to be silent?"</p> +<p> Jules turned pale; but his noble face instantly resumed its calmness, though + it was now a false calmness. Drawing the baron under one of the temporary sheds + of the Bourse, near which they were standing, he said to him in a voice which + concealed his intense inward emotion:--</p> +<p> "Monsieur, I will listen to you; but there will be a duel to the death + between us if--"</p> +<p> "Oh, to that I consent!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour. "I have + the greatest esteem for your character. You speak of death. You are unaware + that your wife may have assisted in poisoning me last Saturday night. Yes, monsieur, + since then some extraordinary evil has developed in me. My hair appears to distil + an inward fever and a deadly languor through my skull; I know who clutched my + hair at that ball."</p> +<p> Monsieur de Maulincour then related, without omitting a single fact, his platonic + love for Madame Jules, and the details of the affair in the rue Soly which began + this narrative. Any one would have listened to him with attention; but Madame + Jules' husband had good reason to be more amazed than any other human being. + Here his character displayed itself; he was more amazed than overcome. Made + a judge, and the judge of an adored woman, he found in his soul the equity of + a judge as well as the inflexibility. A lover still, he thought less of his + own shattered life than of his wife's life; he listened, not to his own anguish, + but to some far-off voice that cried to him, "Clemence cannot lie! Why + should she betray you?"</p> +<p> "Monsieur," said the baron, as he ended, "being absolutely + certain of having recognized in Monsieur de Funcal the same Ferragus whom the + police declared dead, I have put upon his traces an intelligent man.<br> + As I returned that night I remembered, by a fortunate chance, the name of Madame + Meynardie, mentioned in that letter of Ida, the presumed mistress of my persecutor. + Supplied with this clue, my emissary will soon get to the bottom of this horrible + affair; for he is far more able to discover the truth than the police themselves."</p> +<p> "Monsieur," replied Desmarets, "I know not how to thank you + for this confidence. You say that you can obtain proofs and witnesses; I shall + await them. I shall seek the truth of this strange affair courageously; but + you must permit me to doubt everything until the evidence of the facts you state + is proved to me. In any case you shall have satisfaction, for, as you will certainly + understand, we both require it."</p> +<p> Jules returned home.</p> +<p> "What is the matter, Jules?" asked his wife, when she saw him. "You + look so pale you frighten me!"</p> +<p> "The day is cold," he answered, walking with slow steps across the + room where all things spoke to him of love and happiness,--that room so calm + and peaceful where a deadly storm was gathering.</p> +<p> "Did you go out to-day?" he asked, as though mechanically.</p> +<p> He was impelled to ask the question by the last of a myriad of thoughts which + had gathered themselves together into a lucid meditation, though jealousy was + actively prompting them.</p> +<p> "No," she answered, in a tone that was falsely candid.</p> +<p> At that instant Jules saw through the open door of the dressing-room the velvet + bonnet which his wife wore in the mornings; on it were drops of rain. Jules + was a passionate man, but he was also full of delicacy. It was repugnant to + him to bring his wife face to face with a lie. When such a situation occurs, + all has come to an end forever between certain beings. And yet those drops of + rain were like a flash tearing through his brain.</p> +<p> He left the room, went down to the porter's lodge, and said to the porter, + after making sure that they were alone:--</p> +<p> "Fouguereau, a hundred crowns if you tell me the truth; dismissal if + you deceive me; and nothing at all if you ever speak of my question and your + answer."</p> +<p> He stopped to examine the man's face, leading him under the window.<br> + Then he continued:--</p> +<p> "Did madame go out this morning?"</p> +<p> "Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in + about half an hour ago."</p> +<p> "That is true, upon your honor?"</p> +<p> "Yes, monsieur."</p> +<p> "You will have the money; but if you speak of this, remember, you will + lose all."</p> +<p> Jules returned to his wife.</p> +<p> "Clemence," he said, "I find I must put my accounts in order. + Do not be offended at the inquiry I am going to make. Have I not given you forty + thousand francs since the beginning of the year?"</p> +<p> "More," she said,--"forty-seven."</p> +<p> "Have you spent them?"</p> +<p> "Nearly," she replied. "In the first place, I had to pay several + of our last year's bills--"</p> +<p> "I shall never find out anything in this way," thought Jules. "I + am not taking the best course."</p> +<p> At this moment Jules' own valet entered the room with a letter for his master, + who opened it indifferently, but as soon as his eyes had lighted on the signature + he read it eagerly. The letter was as follows:--</p> +<p> Monsieur,--For the sake of your peace of mind as well as ours, I take the + course of writing you this letter without possessing the advantage of being + known to you; but my position, my age, and the fear of some misfortune compel + me to entreat you to show indulgence in the trying circumstances under which + our afflicted family is placed. Monsieur Auguste de Maulincour has for the last + few days shown signs of mental derangement, and we fear that he may trouble + your happiness by fancies which he confided to Monsieur le Vidame de Pamiers + and myself during his first attack of frenzy. We think it right, therefore, + to warn you of his malady, which is, we hope, curable; but it will have such + serious and important effects on the honor of our family and the career of my + grandson that we must rely, monsieur, on your entire discretion.</p> +<p> If Monsieur le Vidame or I could have gone to see you we would not have written. + But I make no doubt that you will regard this prayer of a mother, who begs you + to destroy this letter.</p> +<p> Accept the assurance of my perfect consideration.</p> +<p> Baronne de Maulincour, <i>nee</i> de Rieux.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> "Oh! what torture!" cried Jules.</p> +<p> "What is it? what is in your mind?" asked his wife, exhibiting the + deepest anxiety.</p> +<p> "I have come," he answered, slowly, as he threw her the letter, + "to ask myself whether it can be you who have sent me that to avert my + suspicions. Judge, therefore, what I suffer."</p> +<p> "Unhappy man!" said Madame Jules, letting fall the paper. "I + pity him; though he has done me great harm."</p> +<p> "Are you aware that he has spoken to me?"</p> +<p> "Oh! have you been to see him, in spite of your promise?" she cried + in terror.</p> +<p> "Clemence, our love is in danger of perishing; we stand outside of the + ordinary rules of life; let us lay aside all petty considerations in presence + of this great peril. Explain to me why you went out this morning. Women think + they have the right to tell us little falsehoods.<br> + Sometimes they like to hide a pleasure they are preparing for us. Just now you + said a word to me, by mistake, no doubt, a no for a yes."</p> +<p> He went into the dressing-room and brought out the bonnet.</p> +<p> "See," he said, "your bonnet has betrayed you; these spots + are raindrops. You must, therefore, have gone out in a street cab, and these + drops fell upon it as you went to find one, or as you entered or left the house + where you went. But a woman can leave her own home for many innocent purposes, + even after she has told her husband that she did not mean to go out. There are + so many reasons for changing our plans! Caprices, whims, are they not your right? + Women are not required to be consistent with themselves. You had forgotten something,--a + service to render, a visit, some kind action. But nothing hinders a woman from + telling her husband what she does. Can we ever blush on the breast of a friend? + It is not a jealous husband who speaks to you, my Clemence; it is your lover, + your friend, your brother." He flung himself passionately at her feet. + "Speak, not to justify yourself, but to calm my horrible sufferings. I + know that you went out. Well--what did you do? where did you go?"</p> +<p> "Yes, I went out, Jules," she answered in a strained voice, though + her face was calm. "But ask me nothing more. Wait; have confidence; without + which you will lay up for yourself terrible remorse. Jules, my Jules, trust + is the virtue of love. I owe to you that I am at this moment too troubled to + answer you: but I am not a false woman; I love you, and you know it."</p> +<p> "In the midst of all that can shake the faith of man and rouse his jealousy, + for I see I am not first in your heart, I am no longer thine own self--well, + Clemence, even so, I prefer to believe you, to believe that voice, to believe + those eyes. If you deceive me, you deserve--"</p> +<p> "Ten thousand deaths!" she cried, interrupting him.</p> +<p> "I have never hidden a thought from you, but you--"</p> +<p> "Hush!" she said, "our happiness depends upon our mutual silence."</p> +<p> "Ha! I <i>will</i> know all!" he exclaimed, with sudden violence.</p> +<p> At that moment the cries of a woman were heard,--the yelping of a shrill little + voice came from the antechamber.</p> +<p> "I tell you I will go in!" it cried. "Yes, I shall go in; I + will see her! I shall see her!"</p> +<p> Jules and Clemence both ran to the salon as the door from the antechamber + was violently burst open. A young woman entered hastily, followed by two servants, + who said to their master:--</p> +<p> "Monsieur, this person would come in in spite of us. We told her that + madame was not at home. She answered that she knew very well madame had been + out, but she saw her come in. She threatened to stay at the door of the house + till she could speak to madame."</p> +<p> "You can go," said Monsieur Desmarets to the two men. "What + do you want, mademoiselle?" he added, turning to the strange woman.</p> +<p> This "demoiselle" was the type of a woman who is never to be met + with except in Paris. She is made in Paris, like the mud, like the pavement, + like the water of the Seine, such as it becomes in Paris before human industry + filters it ten times ere it enters the cut-glass decanters and sparkles pure + and bright from the filth it has been. She is therefore a being who is truly + original. Depicted scores of times by the painter's brush, the pencil of the + caricaturist, the charcoal of the etcher, she still escapes analysis, because + she cannot be caught and rendered in all her moods, like Nature, like this fantastic + Paris itself. She holds to vice by one thread only, and she breaks away from + it at a thousand other points of the social circumference.<br> + Besides, she lets only one trait of her character be known, and that the only + one which renders her blamable; her noble virtues are hidden; she prefers to + glory in her naive libertinism. Most incompletely rendered in dramas and tales + where she is put upon the scene with all her poesy, she is nowhere really true + but in her garret; elsewhere she is invariably calumniated or over-praised. + Rich, she deteriorates; poor, she is misunderstood. She has too many vices, + and too many good qualities; she is too near to pathetic asphyxiation or to + a dissolute laugh; too beautiful and too hideous. She personifies Paris, to + which, in the long run, she supplies the toothless portresses, washerwomen, + street-sweepers, beggars, occasionally insolent countesses, admired actresses, + applauded singers; she has even given, in the olden time, two quasi-queens to + the monarchy. Who can grasp such a Proteus? She is all woman, less than woman, + more than woman. From this vast portrait the painter of manners and morals can + take but a feature here and there; the <i>ensemble</i> is infinite.</p> +<p> She was a grisette of Paris; a grisette in all her glory; a grisette in a + hackney-coach,--happy, young, handsome, fresh, but a grisette; a grisette with + claws, scissors, impudent as a Spanish woman, snarling as a prudish English + woman proclaiming her conjugal rights, coquettish as a great lady, though more + frank, and ready for everything; a perfect <i>lionne</i> in her way; issuing + from the little apartment of which she had dreamed so often, with its red-calico + curtains, its Utrecht velvet furniture, its tea-table, the cabinet of china + with painted designs, the sofa, the little moquette carpet, the alabaster clock + and candlesticks (under glass cases), the yellow bedroom, the eider-down quilt,--in + short, all the domestic joys of a grisette's life; and in addition, the woman-of-all-work + (a former grisette herself, now the owner of a moustache), theatre-parties, + unlimited bonbons, silk dresses, bonnets to spoil,--in fact, all the felicities + coveted by the grisette heart except a carriage, which only enters her imagination + as a marshal's baton into the dreams of a soldier. Yes, this grisette had all + these things in return for a true affection, or in spite of a true affection, + as some others obtain it for an hour a day,--a sort of tax carelessly paid under + the claws of an old man.</p> +<p> The young woman who now entered the presence of Monsieur and Madame Jules + had a pair of feet so little covered by her shoes that only a slim black line + was visible between the carpet and her white stockings. This peculiar foot-gear, + which Parisian caricaturists have well-rendered, is a special attribute of the + grisette of Paris; but she is even more distinctive to the eyes of an observer + by the care with which her garments are made to adhere to her form, which they + clearly define. On this occasion she was trigly dressed in a green gown, with + a white chemisette, which allowed the beauty of her bust to be seen; her shawl, + of Ternaux cashmere, had fallen from her shoulders, and was held by its two + corners, which were twisted round her wrists. She had a delicate face, rosy + cheeks, a white skin, sparkling gray eyes, a round, very promising forehead, + hair carefully smoothed beneath her little bonnet, and heavy curls upon her + neck.</p> +<p> "My name is Ida," she said, "and if that's Madame Jules to + whom I have the advantage of speaking, I've come to tell her all I have in my + heart against her. It is very wrong, when a woman is set up and in her furniture, + as you are here, to come and take from a poor girl a man with whom I'm as good + as married, morally, and who did talk of making it right by marrying me before + the municipality. There's plenty of handsome young men in the world--ain't there, + monsieur?--to take your fancy, without going after a man of middle age, who + makes my happiness. Yah! I haven't got a fine hotel like this, but I've got + my love, I have. I hate handsome men and money; I'm all heart, and--"</p> +<p> Madame Jules turned to her husband.</p> +<p> "You will allow me, monsieur, to hear no more of all this," she + said, retreating to her bedroom.</p> +<p> "If the lady lives with you, I've made a mess of it; but I can't help + that," resumed Ida. "Why does she come after Monsieur Ferragus every + day?"</p> +<p> "You are mistaken, mademoiselle," said Jules, stupefied; "my + wife is incapable--"</p> +<p> "Ha! so you're married, you two," said the grisette showing some + surprise. "Then it's very wrong, monsieur,--isn't it?--for a woman who + has the happiness of being married in legal marriage to have relations with + a man like Henri--"</p> +<p> "Henri! who is Henri?" said Jules, taking Ida by the arm and pulling + her into an adjoining room that his wife might hear no more.</p> +<p> "Why, Monsieur Ferragus."</p> +<p> "But he is dead," said Jules.</p> +<p> "Nonsense; I went to Franconi's with him last night, and he brought me + home--as he ought. Besides, your wife can tell you about him; didn't she go + there this very afternoon at three o'clock? I know she did, for I waited in + the street, and saw her,--all because that good-natured fellow, Monsieur Justin, + whom you know perhaps,--a little old man with jewelry who wears corsets,--told + me that Madame Jules was my rival.<br> + That name, monsieur, sounds mighty like a feigned one; but if it is yours, excuse + me. But this I say, if Madame Jules was a court duchess, Henri is rich enough + to satisfy all her fancies, and it is my business to protect my property; I've + a right to, for I love him, that I do. He is my <i>first</i> inclination; + my happiness and all my future fate depends on it. I fear nothing, monsieur; + I am honest; I never lied, or stole the property of any living soul, no matter + who. If an empress was my rival, I'd go straight to her, empress as she was; + because all pretty women are equals, monsieur--"</p> +<p> "Enough! enough!" said Jules. "Where do you live?"</p> +<p> "Rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14, monsieur,--Ida Gruget, corset-maker, + at your service,--for we make lots of corsets for men."</p> +<p> "Where does the man whom you call Ferragus live?"</p> +<p> "Monsieur," she said, pursing up her lips, "in the first place, + he's not a man; he is a rich monsieur, much richer, perhaps, than you are.<br> + But why do you ask me his address when your wife knows it? He told me not to + give it. Am I obliged to answer you? I'm not, thank God, in a confessional or + a police-court; I'm responsible only to myself."</p> +<p> "If I were to offer you ten thousand francs to tell me where Monsieur + Ferragus lives, how then?"</p> +<p> "Ha! n, o, <i>no</i>, my little friend, and that ends the matter," + she said, emphasizing this singular reply with a popular gesture. "There's + no sum in the world could make me tell you. I have the honor to bid you good-day. + How do I get out of here?"</p> +<p> Jules, horror-struck, allowed her to go without further notice. The whole + world seemed to crumble beneath his feet, and above him the heavens were falling + with a crash.</p> +<p> "Monsieur is served," said his valet.</p> +<p> The valet and the footman waited in the dining-room a quarter of an hour without + seeing master or mistress.</p> +<p> "Madame will not dine to-day," said the waiting-maid, coming in.</p> +<p> "What's the matter, Josephine?" asked the valet.</p> +<p> "I don't know," she answered. "Madame is crying, and is going + to bed.<br> + Monsieur has no doubt got some love-affair on hand, and it has been discovered + at a very bad time. I wouldn't answer for madame's life.<br> + Men are so clumsy; they'll make you scenes without any precaution."</p> +<p> "That's not so," said the valet, in a low voice. "On the contrary, + madame is the one who--you understand? What times does monsieur have to go after + pleasures, he, who hasn't slept out of madame's room for five years, who goes + to his study at ten and never leaves it till breakfast, at twelve. His life + is all known, it is regular; whereas madame goes out nearly every day at three + o'clock, Heaven knows where."</p> +<p> "And monsieur too," said the maid, taking her mistress's part.</p> +<p> "Yes, but he goes straight to the Bourse. I told him three times that + dinner was ready," continued the valet, after a pause. "You might + as well talk to a post."</p> +<p> Monsieur Jules entered the dining-room.</p> +<p> "Where is madame?" he said.</p> +<p> "Madame is going to bed; her head aches," replied the maid, assuming + an air of importance.</p> +<p> Monsieur Jules then said to the footmen composedly: "You can take away; + I shall go and sit with madame."</p> +<p> He went to his wife's room and found her weeping, but endeavoring to smother + her sobs with her handkerchief.</p> +<p> "Why do you weep?" said Jules; "you need expect no violence + and no reproaches from me. Why should I avenge myself? If you have not been + faithful to my love, it is that you were never worthy of it."</p> +<p> "Not worthy?" The words were repeated amid her sobs and the accent + in which they were said would have moved any other man than Jules.</p> +<p> "To kill you, I must love more than perhaps I do love you," he continued. + "But I should never have the courage; I would rather kill myself, leaving + you to your--happiness, and with--whom!--"</p> +<p> He did not end his sentence.</p> +<p> "Kill yourself!" she cried, flinging herself at his feet and clasping + them.</p> +<p> But he, wishing to escape the embrace, tried to shake her off, dragging her + in so doing toward the bed.</p> +<p> "Let me alone," he said.</p> +<p> "No, no, Jules!" she cried. "If you love me no longer I shall + die. Do you wish to know all?"</p> +<p> "Yes."</p> +<p> He took her, grasped her violently, and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding + her between his legs. Then, looking at that beautiful face now red as fire and + furrowed with tears,--</p> +<p> "Speak," he said.</p> +<p> Her sobs began again.</p> +<p> "No; it is a secret of life and death. If I tell it, I--No, I cannot.<br> + Have mercy, Jules!"</p> +<p> "You have betrayed me--"</p> +<p> "Ah! Jules, you think so now, but soon you will know all."</p> +<p> "But this Ferragus, this convict whom you go to see, a man enriched by + crime, if he does not belong to you, if you do not belong to him--"</p> +<p> "Oh, Jules!"</p> +<p> "Speak! Is he your mysterious benefactor?--the man to whom we owe our + fortune, as persons have said already?"</p> +<p> "Who said that?"</p> +<p> "A man whom I killed in a duel."</p> +<p> "Oh, God! one death already!"</p> +<p> "If he is not your protector, if he does not give you money, if it is + you, on the contrary, who carry money to him, tell me, is he your brother?"</p> +<p> "What if he were?" she said.</p> +<p> Monsieur Desmarets crossed his arms.</p> +<p> "Why should that have been concealed from me?" he said. "Then + you and your mother have both deceived me? Besides, does a woman go to see her + brother every day, or nearly every day?"</p> +<p> His wife had fainted at his feet.</p> +<p> "Dead," he said. "And suppose I am mistaken?"</p> +<p> He sprang to the bell-rope; called Josephine, and lifted Clemence to the bed.</p> +<p> "I shall die of this," said Madame Jules, recovering consciousness.</p> +<p> "Josephine," cried Monsieur Desmarets. "Send for Monsieur Desplein; + send also to my brother and ask him to come here immediately."</p> +<p> "Why your brother?" asked Clemence.</p> +<p> But Jules had already left the room.</p> +<p> </p> +<h2 align="center"> </h2> +<h2 align="center"> </h2> +<h2 align="center"> CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3 align="center"> WHERE GO TO DIE?</h3> +<p> For the first time in five years Madame Jules slept alone in her bed, and + was compelled to admit a physician into that sacred chamber. These in themselves + were two keen pangs. Desplein found Madame Jules very ill. Never was a violent + emotion more untimely. He would say nothing definite, and postponed till the + morrow giving any opinion, after leaving a few directions, which were not executed, + the emotions of the heart causing all bodily cares to be forgotten.</p> +<p> When morning dawned, Clemence had not yet slept. Her mind was absorbed in + the low murmur of a conversation which lasted several hours between the brothers; + but the thickness of the walls allowed no word which could betray the object + of this long conference to reach her ears.<br> + Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, went away at last. The stillness of the night, + and the singular activity of the senses given by powerful emotion, enabled Clemence + to distinguish the scratching of a pen and the involuntary movements of a person + engaged in writing. Those who are habitually up at night, and who observe the + different acoustic effects produced in absolute silence, know that a slight + echo can be readily perceived in the very places where louder but more equable + and continued murmurs are not distinct. At four o'clock the sound ceased.<br> + Clemence rose, anxious and trembling. Then, with bare feet and without a wrapper, + forgetting her illness and her moist condition, the poor woman opened the door + softly without noise and looked into the next room. She saw her husband sitting, + with a pen in his hand, asleep in his arm-chair. The candles had burned to the + sockets. She slowly advanced and read on an envelope, already sealed, the words, + "This is my will."<br> +</p> +<p> She knelt down as if before an open grave and kissed her husband's hand. He + woke instantly.</p> +<p> "Jules, my friend, they grant some days to criminals condemned to death," + she said, looking at him with eyes that blazed with fever and with love. "Your + innocent wife asks only two. Leave me free for two days, and--wait! After that, + I shall die happy--at least, you will regret me."</p> +<p> "Clemence, I grant them."</p> +<p> Then, as she kissed her husband's hands in the tender transport of her heart, + Jules, under the spell of that cry of innocence, took her in his arms and kissed + her forehead, though ashamed to feel himself still under subjection to the power + of that noble beauty.</p> +<p> On the morrow, after taking a few hours' rest, Jules entered his wife's room, + obeying mechanically his invariable custom of not leaving the house without + a word to her. Clemence was sleeping. A ray of light passing through a chink + in the upper blind of a window fell across the face of the dejected woman. Already + suffering had impaired her forehead and the freshness of her lips. A lover's + eye could not fail to notice the appearance of dark blotches, and a sickly pallor + in place of the uniform tone of the cheeks and the pure ivory whiteness of the + skin,--two points at which the sentiments of her noble soul were artlessly wont + to show themselves.</p> +<p> "She suffers," thought Jules. "Poor Clemence! May God protect + us!"</p> +<p> He kissed her very softly on the forehead. She woke, saw her husband, and + remembered all. Unable to speak, she took his hand, her eyes filling with tears.</p> +<p> "I am innocent," she said, ending her dream.</p> +<p> "You will not go out to-day, will you?" asked Jules.</p> +<p> "No, I feel too weak to leave my bed."</p> +<p> "If you should change your mind, wait till I return," said Jules.</p> +<p> Then he went down to the porter's lodge.</p> +<p> "Fouguereau, you will watch the door yourself to-day. I wish to know + exactly who comes to the house, and who leaves it."</p> +<p> Then he threw himself into a hackney-coach, and was driven to the hotel de + Maulincour, where he asked for the baron.</p> +<p> "Monsieur is ill," they told him.</p> +<p> Jules insisted on entering, and gave his name. If he could not see the baron, + he wished to see the vidame or the dowager. He waited some time in the salon, + where Madame de Maulincour finally came to him and told him that her grandson + was much too ill to receive him.</p> +<p> "I know, madame, the nature of his illness from the letter you did me + the honor to write, and I beg you to believe--"</p> +<p> "A letter to you, monsieur, written by me!" cried the dowager, interrupting + him. "I have written you no letter. What was I made to say in that letter, + monsieur?"</p> +<p> "Madame," replied Jules, "intending to see Monsieur de Maulincour + to-day, I thought it best to preserve the letter in spite of its injunction + to destroy it. There it is."</p> +<p> Madame de Maulincour put on her spectacles, and the moment she cast her eyes + on the paper she showed the utmost surprise.</p> +<p> "Monsieur," she said, "my writing is so perfectly imitated + that, if the matter were not so recent, I might be deceived myself. My grandson + is ill, it is true; but his reason has never for a moment been affected. We + are the puppets of some evil-minded person or persons; and yet I cannot imagine + the object of a trick like this. You shall see my grandson, monsieur, and you + will at once perceive that he is perfectly sound in mind."</p> +<p> She rang the bell, and sent to ask if the baron felt able to receive Monsieur + Desmarets. The servant returned with an affirmative answer.<br> + Jules went to the baron's room, where he found him in an arm-chair near the + fire. Too feeble to move, the unfortunate man merely bowed his head with a melancholy + gesture. The Vidame de Pamiers was sitting with him.</p> +<p> "Monsieur le baron," said Jules, "I have something to say which + makes it desirable that I should see you alone."</p> +<p> "Monsieur," replied Auguste, "Monsieur le vidame knows about + this affair; you can speak fearlessly before him."</p> +<p> "Monsieur le baron," said Jules, in a grave voice, "you have + troubled and well-nigh destroyed my happiness without having any right to do + so. Until the moment when we can see clearly which of us should demand, or grant, + reparation to the other, you are bound to help me in following the dark and + mysterious path into which you have flung me. I have now come to ascertain from + you the present residence of the extraordinary being who exercises such a baneful + effect on your life and mine. On my return home yesterday, after listening to + your avowals, I received that letter."</p> +<p> Jules gave him the forged letter.</p> +<p> "This Ferragus, this Bourignard, or this Monsieur de Funcal, is a demon!" + cried Maulincour, after having read it. "Oh, what a frightful maze I put + my foot into when I meddled in this matter! Where am I going? I did wrong, monsieur," + he continued, looking at Jules; "but death is the greatest of all expiations, + and my death is now approaching. You can ask me whatever you like; I am at your + orders."</p> +<p> "Monsieur, you know, of course, where this man is living, and I must + know it if it costs me all my fortune to penetrate this mystery. In presence + of so cruel an enemy every moment is precious."</p> +<p> "Justin shall tell you all," replied the baron.</p> +<p> At these words the vidame fidgeted on his chair. Auguste rang the bell.</p> +<p> "Justin is not in the house!" cried the vidame, in a hasty manner + that told much.</p> +<p> "Well, then," said Auguste, excitedly, "the other servants + must know where he is; send a man on horseback to fetch him. Your valet is in + Paris, isn't he? He can be found."</p> +<p> The vidame was visibly distressed.</p> +<p> "Justin can't come, my dear boy," said the old man; "he is + dead. I wanted to conceal the accident from you, but--"</p> +<p> "Dead!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour,--"dead! When and how?"</p> +<p> "Last night. He had been supping with some old friends, and, I dare say, + was drunk; his friends--no doubt they were drunk, too--left him lying in the + street, and a heavy vehicle ran over him."</p> +<p> "The convict did not miss <i>him</i>; at the first stroke he killed," + said Auguste. "He has had less luck with me; it has taken four blows to + put me out of the way."</p> +<p> Jules was gloomy and thoughtful.</p> +<p> "Am I to know nothing, then?" he cried, after a long pause. "Your + valet seems to have been justly punished. Did he not exceed your orders in calumniating + Madame Desmarets to a person named Ida, whose jealousy he roused in order to + turn her vindictiveness upon us?"</p> +<p> "Ah, monsieur! in my anger I informed him about Madame Jules," said + Auguste.</p> +<p> "Monsieur!" cried the husband, keenly irritated.</p> +<p> "Oh, monsieur!" replied the baron, claiming silence by a gesture, + "I am prepared for all. You cannot tell me anything my own conscience has + not already told me. I am now expecting the most celebrated of all professors + of toxicology, in order to learn my fate. If I am destined to intolerable suffering, + my resolution is taken. I shall blow my brains out."</p> +<p> "You talk like a child!" cried the vidame, horrified by the coolness + with which the baron said these words. "Your grandmother would die of grief."</p> +<p> "Then, monsieur," said Jules, "am I to understand that there + exist no means of discovering in what part of Paris this extraordinary man resides?"</p> +<p> "I think, monsieur," said the old vidame, "from what I have + heard poor Justin say, that Monsieur de Funcal lives at either the Portuguese + or the Brazilian embassy. Monsieur de Funcal is a nobleman belonging to both + those countries. As for the convict, he is dead and buried. Your persecutor, + whoever he is, seems to me so powerful that it would be well to take no decisive + measures until you are sure of some way of confounding and crushing him. Act + prudently and with caution, my dear monsieur. Had Monsieur de Maulincour followed + my advice, nothing of all this would have happened."</p> +<p> Jules coldly but politely withdrew. He was now at a total loss to know how + to reach Ferragus. As he passed into his own house, the porter told him that + Madame had just been out to throw a letter into the post box at the head of + the rue de Menars. Jules felt humiliated by this proof of the insight with which + the porter espoused his cause, and the cleverness by which he guessed the way + to serve him. The eagerness of servants, and their shrewdness in compromising + masters who compromised themselves, was known to him, and he fully appreciated + the danger of having them as accomplices, no matter for what purpose. But he + could not think of his personal dignity until the moment when he found himself + thus suddenly degraded. What a triumph for the slave who could not raise himself + to his master, to compel his master to come down to his level! Jules was harsh + and hard to him. Another fault. But he suffered so deeply! His life till then + so upright, so pure, was becoming crafty; he was to scheme and lie. Clemence + was scheming and lying. This to him was a moment of horrible disgust. Lost in + a flood of bitter feelings, Jules stood motionless at the door of his house.<br> + Yielding to despair, he thought of fleeing, of leaving France forever, carrying + with him the illusions of uncertainty. Then, again, not doubting that the letter + Clemence had just posted was addressed to Ferragus, his mind searched for a + means of obtaining the answer that mysterious being was certain to send. Then + his thoughts began to analyze the singular good fortune of his life since his + marriage, and he asked himself whether the calumny for which he had taken such + signal vengeance was not a truth. Finally, reverting to the coming answer, he + said to himself:--</p> +<p> "But this man, so profoundly capable, so logical in his every act, who + sees and foresees, who calculates, and even divines, our very thoughts, is he + likely to make an answer? Will he not employ some other means more in keeping + with his power? He may send his answer by some beggar; or in a carton brought + by an honest man, who does not suspect what he brings; or in some parcel of + shoes, which a shop-girl may innocently deliver to my wife. If Clemence and + he have agreed upon such means--"</p> +<p> He distrusted all things; his mind ran over vast tracts and shoreless oceans + of conjecture. Then, after floating for a time among a thousand contradictory + ideas, he felt he was strongest in his own house, and he resolved to watch it + as the ant-lion watches his sandy labyrinth.</p> +<p> "Fouguereau," he said to the porter, "I am not at home to any + one who comes to see me. If any one calls to see madame, or brings her anything, + ring twice. Bring all letters addressed here to me, no matter for whom they + are intended."</p> +<p> "Thus," thought he, as he entered his study, which was in the entresol, + "I forestall the schemes of this Ferragus. If he sends some one to ask + for me so as to find out if Clemence is alone, at least I shall not be tricked + like a fool."</p> +<p> He stood by the window of his study, which looked upon the street, and then + a final scheme, inspired by jealousy, came into his mind. He resolved to send + his head-clerk in his own carriage to the Bourse with a letter to another broker, + explaining his sales and purchases and requesting him to do his business for + that day. He postponed his more delicate transactions till the morrow, indifferent + to the fall or rise of stocks or the debts of all Europe. High privilege of + love!--it crushes all things, all interests fall before it: altar, throne, consols!</p> +<p> At half-past three, just the hour at which the Bourse is in full blast of + reports, monthly settlements, premiums, etc., Fouguereau entered the study, + quite radiant with his news.</p> +<p> "Monsieur, an old woman has come, but very cautiously; I think she's + a sly one. She asked for monsieur, and seemed much annoyed when I told her he + was out; then she gave me a letter for madame, and here it is."</p> +<p> Fevered with anxiety, Jules opened the letter; then he dropped into a chair, + exhausted. The letter was mere nonsense throughout, and needed a key. It was + virtually in cipher.</p> +<p> "Go away, Fouguereau." The porter left him. "It is a mystery + deeper than the sea below the plummet line! Ah! it must be love; love only is + so sagacious, so inventive as this. Ah! I shall kill her."</p> +<p> At this moment an idea flashed through his brain with such force that he felt + almost physically illuminated by it. In the days of his toilsome poverty before + his marriage, Jules had made for himself a true friend. The extreme delicacy + with which he had managed the susceptibilities of a man both poor and modest; + the respect with which he had surrounded him; the ingenious cleverness he had + employed to nobly compel him to share his opulence without permitting it to + make him blush, increased their friendship. Jacquet continued faithful to Desmarets + in spite of his wealth.</p> +<p> Jacquet, a nobly upright man, a toiler, austere in his morals, had slowly + made his way in that particular ministry which develops both honesty and knavery + at the same time. A clerk in the ministry of Foreign Affairs, he had charge + of the most delicate division of its archives. Jacquet in that office was like + a glow-worm, casting his light upon those secret correspondences, deciphering + and classifying despatches. Ranking higher than a mere <i>bourgeois</i>, his + position at the ministry was superior to that of the other subalterns. He lived + obscurely, glad to feel that such obscurity sheltered him from reverses and + disappointments, and was satisfied to humbly pay in the lowest coin his debt + to the country. Thanks to Jules, his position had been much ameliorated by a + worthy marriage. An unrecognized patriot, a minister in actual fact, he contented + himself with groaning in his chimney-corner at the course of the government. + In his own home, Jacquet was an easy-going king,--an umbrella-man, as they say, + who hired a carriage for his wife which he never entered himself. In short, + to end this sketch of a philosopher unknown to himself, he had never suspected + and never in all his life would suspect the advantages he might have drawn from + his position,--that of having for his intimate friend a broker, and of knowing + every morning all the secrets of the State. This man, sublime after the manner + of that nameless soldier who died in saving Napoleon by a "qui vive," + lived at the ministry.</p> +<p> In ten minutes Jules was in his friend's office. Jacquet gave him a chair, + laid aside methodically his green silk eye-shade, rubbed his hands, picked up + his snuff-box, rose, stretched himself till his shoulder-blades cracked, swelled + out his chest, and said:--</p> +<p> "What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?"</p> +<p> "Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret,--a secret of life and death."</p> +<p> "It doesn't concern politics?"</p> +<p> "If it did, I shouldn't come to you for information," said Jules. + "No, it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely + silent."</p> +<p> "Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession. Don't you know me by this + time?" he said, laughing. "Discretion is my lot."</p> +<p> Jules showed him the letter.</p> +<p> "You must read me this letter, addressed to my wife."</p> +<p> "The deuce! the deuce! a bad business!" said Jacquet, examining + the letter as a usurer examines a note to be negotiated. "Ha! that's a + gridiron letter! Wait a minute."</p> +<p> He left Jules alone for a moment, but returned immediately.</p> +<p> "Easy enough to read, my friend! It is written on the gridiron plan, + used by the Portuguese minister under Monsieur de Choiseul, at the time of the + dismissal of the Jesuits. Here, see!"</p> +<p> Jacquet placed upon the writing a piece of paper cut out in regular squares, + like the paper laces which confectioners wrap round their sugarplums; and Jules + then read with perfect ease the words that were visible in the interstices. + They were as follows:--</p> +<p> "Don't be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be troubled; + and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions.<br> + However ill you may be, you must have the courage to come here to-morrow; find + strength in your love for me. Mine for you has induced me to submit to a cruel + operation, and I cannot leave my bed. I have had the actual cautery applied + to my back, and it was necessary to burn it in a long time; you understand me? + But I thought of you, and I did not suffer.</p> +<p> "To baffle Maulincour (who will not persecute us much longer), I have + left the protecting roof of the embassy, and am now safe from all inquiry in + the rue des Enfants-Rouges, number 12, with an old woman, Madame Etienne Gruget, + mother of that Ida, who shall pay dear for her folly. Come to-morrow, at nine + in the morning. I am in a room which is reached only by an interior staircase. + Ask for Monsieur Camuset. Adieu; I kiss your forehead, my darling."</p> +<p> Jacquet looked at Jules with a sort of honest terror, the sign of a true compassion, + as he made his favorite exclamation in two separate and distinct tones,--</p> +<p> "The deuce! the deuce!"</p> +<p> "That seems clear to you, doesn't it?" said Jules. "Well, in + the depths of my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes itself + heard above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of all agony until + to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall know all; I shall be + happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me then, Jacquet."</p> +<p> "I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o'clock. We will go together; + I'll wait for you, if you like, in the street. You may run some danger, and + you ought to have near you some devoted person who'll understand a mere sign, + and whom you can safely trust. Count on me."</p> +<p> "Even to help me in killing some one?"</p> +<p> "The deuce! the deuce!" said Jacquet, repeating, as it were, the + same musical note. "I have two children and a wife."</p> +<p> Jules pressed his friend's hand and went away; but returned immediately.</p> +<p> "I forgot the letter," he said. "But that's not all, I must + reseal it."</p> +<p> "The deuce! the deuce! you opened it without saving the seal; however, + it is still possible to restore it. Leave it with me and I'll bring it to you + <i>secundum scripturam</i>."</p> +<p> "At what time?"</p> +<p> "Half-past five."</p> +<p> "If I am not yet in, give it to the porter and tell him to send it up + to madame."</p> +<p> "Do you want me to-morrow?"</p> +<p> "No. Adieu."</p> +<p> Jules drove at once to the place de la Rotonde du Temple, where he left his + cabriolet and went on foot to the rue des Enfants-Rouges. He found the house + of Madame Etienne Gruget and examined it. There, the mystery on which depended + the fate of so many persons would be cleared up; there, at this moment, was + Ferragus, and to Ferragus all the threads of this strange plot led. The Gordian + knot of the drama, already so bloody, was surely in a meeting between Madame + Jules, her husband, and that man; and a blade able to cut the closest of such + knots would not be wanting.</p> +<p> The house was one of those which belong to the class called <i>cabajoutis</i>. + This significant name is given by the populace of Paris to houses which are + built, as it were, piecemeal. They are nearly always composed of buildings originally + separate but afterwards united according to the fancy of the various proprietors + who successively enlarge them; or else they are houses begun, left unfinished, + again built upon, and completed,--unfortunate structures which have passed, + like certain peoples, under many dynasties of capricious masters.<br> + Neither the floors nor the windows have an <i>ensemble</i>,--to borrow one + of the most picturesque terms of the art of painting; all is discord, even the + external decoration. The <i>cabajoutis</i> is to Parisian architecture what + the <i>capharnaum</i> is to the apartment,--a poke-hole, where the most heterogeneous + articles are flung pell-mell.</p> +<p> "Madame Etienne?" asked Jules of the portress.</p> +<p> This portress had her lodge under the main entrance, in a sort of chicken + coop, or wooden house on rollers, not unlike those sentry- boxes which the police + have lately set up by the stands of hackney- coaches.</p> +<p> "Hein?" said the portress, without laying down the stocking she + was knitting.</p> +<p> In Paris the various component parts which make up the physiognomy of any + given portion of the monstrous city, are admirably in keeping with its general + character. Thus porter, concierge, or Suisse, whatever name may be given to + that essential muscle of the Parisian monster, is always in conformity with + the neighborhood of which he is a part; in fact, he is often an epitome of it. + The lazy porter of the faubourg Saint-Germain, with lace on every seam of his + coat, dabbles in stocks; he of the Chaussee d'Antin takes his ease, reads the + money-articles in the newspapers, and has a business of his own in the faubourg + Montmartre. The portress in the quarter of prostitution was formerly a prostitute; + in the Marais, she has morals, is cross-grained, and full of crotchets.</p> +<p> On seeing Monsieur Jules this particular portress, holding her knitting in + one hand, took a knife and stirred the half-extinguished peat in her foot-warmer; + then she said:--</p> +<p> "You want Madame Etienne; do you mean Madame Etienne Gruget?"</p> +<p> "Yes," said Jules, assuming a vexed air.</p> +<p> "Who makes trimmings?"</p> +<p> "Yes."</p> +<p> "Well, then, monsieur," she said, issuing from her cage, and laying + her hand on Jules' arm and leading him to the end of a long passage- way, vaulted + like a cellar, "go up the second staircase at the end of the court-yard--where + you will see the windows with the pots of pinks; that's where Madame Etienne + lives."</p> +<p> "Thank you, madame. Do you think she is alone?"</p> +<p> "Why shouldn't she be alone? she's a widow."</p> +<p> Jules hastened up a dark stairway, the steps of which were knobby with hardened + mud left by the feet of those who came and went. On the second floor he saw + three doors but no signs of pinks. Fortunately, on one of the doors, the oiliest + and darkest of the three, he read these words, chalked on a panel: "Ida + will come to-night at nine o'clock."</p> +<p> "This is the place," thought Jules.</p> +<p> He pulled an old bellrope, black with age, and heard the smothered sound of + a cracked bell and the barking of an asthmatic little dog. By the way the sounds + echoed from the interior he knew that the rooms were encumbered with articles + which left no space for reverberation,-- a characteristic feature of the homes + of workmen and humble households, where space and air are always lacking.</p> +<p> Jules looked out mechanically for the pinks, and found them on the outer sill + of a sash window between two filthy drain-pipes. So here were flowers; here, + a garden, two yards long and six inches wide; here, a wheat-ear; here, a whole + life epitomized; but here, too, all the miseries of that life. A ray of light + falling from heaven as if by special favor on those puny flowers and the vigorous + wheat-ear brought out in full relief the dust, the grease, and that nameless + color, peculiar to Parisian squalor, made of dirt, which crusted and spotted + the damp walls, the worm-eaten balusters, the disjointed window- casings, and + the door originally red. Presently the cough of an old woman, and a heavy female + step, shuffling painfully in list slippers, announced the coming of the mother + of Ida Gruget. The creature opened the door and came out upon the landing, looked + up, and said:--</p> +<p> "Ah! is this Monsieur Bocquillon? Why, no? But perhaps you're his brother. + What can I do for you? Come in, monsieur."</p> +<p> Jules followed her into the first room, where he saw, huddled together, cages, + household utensils, ovens, furniture, little earthenware dishes full of food + or water for the dog and the cats, a wooden clock, bed-quilts, engravings of + Eisen, heaps of old iron, all these things mingled and massed together in a + way that produced a most grotesque effect,--a true Parisian dusthole, in which + were not lacking a few old numbers of the "Constitutionel."</p> +<p> Jules, impelled by a sense of prudence, paid no attention to the widow's invitation + when she said civilly, showing him an inner room:--</p> +<p> "Come in here, monsieur, and warm yourself."</p> +<p> Fearing to be overheard by Ferragus, Jules asked himself whether it were not + wisest to conclude the arrangement he had come to make with the old woman in + the crowded antechamber. A hen, which descended cackling from a loft, roused + him from this inward meditation. He came to a resolution, and followed Ida's + mother into the inner room, whither they were accompanied by the wheezy pug, + a personage otherwise mute, who jumped upon a stool. Madame Gruget showed the + assumption of semi-pauperism when she invited her visitor to warm himself. Her + fire- pot contained, or rather concealed two bits of sticks, which lay apart: + the grating was on the ground, its handle in the ashes. The mantel-shelf, adorned + with a little wax Jesus under a shade of squares of glass held together with + blue paper, was piled with wools, bobbins, and tools used in the making of gimps + and trimmings. Jules examined everything in the room with a curiosity that was + full of interest, and showed, in spite of himself, an inward satisfaction.</p> +<p> "Well, monsieur, tell me, do you want to buy any of my things?" + said the old woman, seating herself in a cane arm-chair, which appeared to be + her headquarters. In it she kept her handkerchief, snuffbox, knitting, half-peeled + vegetables, spectacles, calendar, a bit of livery gold lace just begun, a greasy + pack of cards, and two volumes of novels, all stuck into the hollow of the back. + This article of furniture, in which the old creature was floating down the river + of life, was not unlike the encyclopedic bag which a woman carries with her + when she travels; in which may be found a compendium of her household belongings, + from the portrait of her husband to <i>eau de Melisse</i> for faintness, sugarplums + for the children, and English court-plaster in case of cuts.</p> +<p> Jules studied all. He looked attentively at Madame Gruget's yellow visage, + at her gray eyes without either brows or lashes, her toothless mouth, her wrinkles + marked in black, her rusty cap, her still more rusty ruffles, her cotton petticoat + full of holes, her worn-out slippers, her disabled fire-pot, her table heaped + with dishes and silks and work begun or finished, in wool or cotton, in the + midst of which stood a bottle of wine. Then he said to himself: "This old + woman has some passion, some strong liking or vice; I can make her do my will."</p> +<p> "Madame," he said aloud, with a private sign of intelligence, "I + have come to order some livery trimmings." Then he lowered his voice. "I + know," he continued, "that you have a lodger who has taken the name + of Camuset." The old woman looked at him suddenly, but without any sign + of astonishment. "Now, tell me, can we come to an understanding? This is + a question which means fortune for you."</p> +<p> "Monsieur," she replied, "speak out, and don't be afraid. There's + no one here. But if I had any one above, it would be impossible for him to hear + you."</p> +<p> "Ha! the sly old creature, she answers like a Norman," thought Jules, + "We shall agree. Do not give yourself the trouble to tell falsehoods, madame," + he resumed, "In the first place, let me tell you that I mean no harm either + to you or to your lodger who is suffering from cautery, or to your daughter + Ida, a stay-maker, the friend of Ferragus. You see, I know all your affairs. + Do not be uneasy; I am not a detective policeman, nor do I desire anything that + can hurt your conscience. A young lady will come here to-morrow-morning at half-past + nine o'clock, to talk with this lover of your daughter. I want to be where I + can see all and hear all, without being seen or heard by them. If you will furnish + me with the means of doing so, I will reward that service with the gift of two + thousand francs and a yearly stipend of six hundred.<br> + My notary shall prepare a deed before you this evening, and I will give him + the money to hold; he will pay the two thousand to you to-morrow after the conference + at which I desire to be present, as you will then have given proofs of your + good faith."</p> +<p> "Will it injure my daughter, my good monsieur?" she asked, casting + a cat-like glance of doubt and uneasiness upon him.</p> +<p> "In no way, madame. But, in any case, it seems to me that your daughter + does not treat you well. A girl who is loved by so rich a man as Ferragus ought + to make you more comfortable than you seem to be."</p> +<p> "Ah, my dear monsieur, just think, not so much as one poor ticket to + the Ambigu, or the Gaiete, where she can go as much as she likes. It's shameful! + A girl for whom I sold my silver forks and spoons! and now I eat, at my age, + with German metal,--and all to pay for her apprenticeship, and give her a trade, + where she could coin money if she chose. As for that, she's like me, clever + as a witch; I must do her that justice. But, I will say, she might give me her + old silk gowns,--I, who am so fond of wearing silk. But no! Monsieur, she dines + at the Cadran-Bleu at fifty francs a head, and rolls in her carriage as if she + were a princess, and despises her mother for a Colin-Lampon.<br> + Heavens and earth! what heedless young ones we've brought into the world; we + have nothing to boast of there. A mother, monsieur, can't be anything else but + a good mother; and I've concealed that girl's ways, and kept her in my bosom, + to take the bread out of my mouth and cram everything into her own. Well, well! + and now she comes and fondles one a little, and says, 'How d'ye do, mother?' + And that's all the duty she thinks of paying. But she'll have children one of + these days, and then she'll find out what it is to have such baggage,--which + one can't help loving all the same."</p> +<p> "Do you mean that she does nothing for you?"</p> +<p> "Ah, nothing? No, monsieur, I didn't say that; if she did nothing, that + would be a little too much. She gives me my rent and thirty-six francs a month. + But, monsieur, at my age,--and I'm fifty-two years old, with eyes that feel + the strain at night,--ought I to be working in this way? Besides, why won't + she have me to live with her? I should shame her, should I? Then let her say + so. Faith, one ought to be buried out of the way of such dogs of children, who + forget you before they've even shut the door."</p> +<p> She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, and with it a lottery ticket + that dropped on the floor; but she hastily picked it up, saying, "Hi! that's + the receipt for my taxes."</p> +<p> Jules at once perceived the reason of the sagacious parsimony of which the + mother complained; and he was the more certain that the widow Gruget would agree + to the proposed bargain.</p> +<p> "Well, then, madame," he said, "accept what I offer you."</p> +<p> "Did you say two thousand francs in ready money, and six hundred annuity, + monsieur?"</p> +<p> "Madame, I've changed my mind; I will promise you only three hundred + annuity. This way seems more to my own interests. But I will give you five thousand + francs in ready money. Wouldn't you like that as well?"</p> +<p> "Bless me, yes, monsieur!"</p> +<p> "You'll get more comfort out of it; and you can go to the Ambigu and + Franconi's at your ease in a coach."</p> +<p> "As for Franconi, I don't like that, for they don't talk there.<br> + Monsieur, if I accept, it is because it will be very advantageous for my child. + I sha'n't be a drag on her any longer. Poor little thing!<br> + I'm glad she has her pleasures, after all. Ah, monsieur, youth must be amused! + And so, if you assure me that no harm will come to anybody--"</p> +<p> "Not to anybody," replied Jules. "But now, how will you manage + it?"</p> +<p> "Well, monsieur, if I give Monsieur Ferragus a little tea made of poppy-heads + to-night, he'll sleep sound, the dear man; and he needs it, too, because of + his sufferings, for he does suffer, I can tell you, and more's the pity. But + I'd like to know what a healthy man like him wants to burn his back for, just + to get rid of a tic douleureux which troubles him once in two years. However, + to come back to our business. I have my neighbor's key; her lodging is just + above mine, and in it there's a room adjoining the one where Monsieur Ferragus + is, with only a partition between them. My neighbor is away in the country for + ten days. Therefore, if I make a hole to-night while Monsieur Ferragus is sound + asleep, you can see and hear them to-morrow at your ease. I'm on good terms + with a locksmith,--a very friendly man, who talks like an angel, and he'll do + the work for me and say nothing about it."</p> +<p></p> +"Then here's a hundred francs for him. Come to-night to Monsieur Desmaret's +office; he's a notary, and here's his address. At nine o'clock the deed will be +ready, but--silence!" +<p> "Enough, monsieur; as you say--silence! Au revoir, monsieur."</p> +<p> Jules went home, almost calmed by the certainty that he should know the truth + on the morrow. As he entered the house, the porter gave him the letter properly + resealed.</p> +<p> "How do you feel now?" he said to his wife, in spite of the coldness + that separated them.</p> +<p> "Pretty well, Jules," she answered in a coaxing voice, "do + come and dine beside me."</p> +<p> "Very good," he said, giving her the letter. "Here is something + Fouguereau gave me for you."</p> +<p> Clemence, who was very pale, colored high when she saw the letter, and that + sudden redness was a fresh blow to her husband.</p> +<p> "Is that joy," he said, laughing, "or the effect of expectation?"</p> +<p> "Oh, of many things!" she said, examining the seal.</p> +<p> "I leave you now for a few moments."</p> +<p> He went down to his study, and wrote to his brother, giving him directions + about the payment to the widow Gruget. When he returned, he found his dinner + served on a little table by his wife's bedside, and Josephine ready to wait + on him.</p> +<p> "If I were up how I should like to serve you myself," said Clemence, + when Josephine had left them. "Oh, yes, on my knees!" she added, passing + her white hands through her husband's hair. "Dear, noble heart, you were + very kind and gracious to me just now. You did me more good by showing me such + confidence than all the doctors on earth could do me with their prescriptions. + That feminine delicacy of yours--for you do know how to love like a woman--well, + it has shed a balm into my heart which has almost cured me. There's truce between + us, Jules; lower your head, that I may kiss it."</p> +<p> Jules could not deny himself the pleasure of that embrace. But it was not + without a feeling of remorse in his heart; he felt himself small before this + woman whom he was still tempted to think innocent. A sort of melancholy joy + possessed him. A tender hope shone on her features in spite of their grieved + expression. They both were equally unhappy in deceiving each other; another + caress, and, unable to resist their suffering, all would then have been avowed.</p> +<p> "To-morrow evening, Clemence."</p> +<p> "No, no; to-morrow morning, by twelve o'clock, you will know all, and + you'll kneel down before your wife--Oh, no! you shall not be humiliated; you + are all forgiven now; you have done no wrong. Listen, Jules; yesterday you did + crush me--harshly; but perhaps my life would not have been complete without + that agony; it may be a shadow that will make our coming days celestial."</p> +<p> "You lay a spell upon me," cried Jules; "you fill me with remorse."</p> +<p> "Poor love! destiny is stronger than we, and I am not the accomplice + of mine. I shall go out to-morrow."</p> +<p> "At what hour?" asked Jules.</p> +<p> "At half-past nine."</p> +<p> "Clemence," he said, "take every precaution; consult Doctor + Desplein and old Haudry."</p> +<p> "I shall consult nothing but my heart and my courage."</p> +<p> "I shall leave you free; you will not see me till twelve o'clock."</p> +<p> "Won't you keep me company this evening? I feel so much better."</p> +<p> After attending to some business, Jules returned to his wife,-- recalled by + her invincible attraction. His passion was stronger than his anguish.</p> +<p> The next day, at nine o'clock Jules left home, hurried to the rue des Enfants-Rouges, + went upstairs, and rang the bell of the widow Gruget's lodgings.</p> +<p> "Ah! you've kept your word, as true as the dawn. Come in, monsieur,"<br> + said the old woman when she saw him. "I've made you a cup of coffee with + cream," she added, when the door was closed. "Oh! real cream; I saw + it milked myself at the dairy we have in this very street."</p> +<p> "Thank you, no, madame, nothing. Take me at once--"</p> +<p> "Very good, monsieur. Follow me, this way."</p> +<p> She led him up into the room above her own, where she showed him, triumphantly, + an opening about the size of a two-franc piece, made during the night, in a + place, which, in each room, was above a wardrobe. In order to look through it, + Jules was forced to maintain himself in rather a fatiguing attitude, by standing + on a step-ladder which the widow had been careful to place there.</p> +<p> "There's a gentleman with him," she whispered, as she retired.</p> +<p> Jules then beheld a man employed in dressing a number of wounds on the shoulders + of Ferragus, whose head he recognized from the description given to him by Monsieur + de Maulincour.</p> +<p> "When do you think those wounds will heal?" asked Ferragus.</p> +<p> "I don't know," said the other man. "The doctors say those + wounds will require seven or eight more dressings."</p> +<p> "Well, then, good-bye until to-night," said Ferragus, holding out + his hand to the man, who had just replaced the bandage.</p> +<p> "Yes, to-night," said the other, pressing his hand cordially. "I + wish I could see you past your sufferings."</p> +<p> "To-morrow Monsieur de Funcal's papers will be delivered to us, and Henri + Bourignard will be dead forever," said Ferragus. "Those fatal marks + which have cost us so dear no longer exist. I shall become once more a social + being, a man among men, and more of a man than the sailor whom the fishes are + eating. God knows it is not for my own sake I have made myself a Portuguese + count!"</p> +<p> "Poor Gratien!--you, the wisest of us all, our beloved brother, the Benjamin + of the band; as you very well know."</p> +<p> "Adieu; keep an eye on Maulincour."</p> +<p> "You can rest easy on that score."</p> +<p> "Ho! stay, marquis," cried the convict.</p> +<p> "What is it?"</p> +<p> "Ida is capable of everything after the scene of last night. If she should + throw herself into the river, I would not fish her out. She knows the secret + of my name, and she'll keep it better there. But still, look after her; for + she is, in her way, a good girl."</p> +<p> "Very well."</p> +<p> The stranger departed. Ten minutes later Jules heard, with a feverish shudder, + the rustle of a silk gown, and almost recognized by their sound the steps of + his wife.</p> +<p> "Well, father," said Clemence, "my poor father, are you better? + What courage you have shown!"</p> +<p> "Come here, my child," replied Ferragus, holding out his hand to + her.</p> +<p> Clemence held her forehead to him and he kissed it.</p> +<p> "Now tell me, what is the matter, my little girl? What are these new + troubles?"</p> +<p> "Troubles, father! it concerns the life or death of the daughter you + have loved so much. Indeed you must, as I wrote you yesterday, you <i>must</i> + find a way to see my poor Jules to-day. If you knew how good he has been to + me, in spite of all suspicions apparently so legitimate.<br> + Father, my love is my very life. Would you see me die? Ah! I have suffered so + much that my life, I feel it! is in danger."</p> +<p> "And all because of the curiosity of that miserable Parisian?" cried + Ferragus. "I'd burn Paris down if I lost you, my daughter. Ha! you may + know what a lover is, but you don't yet know what a father can do."</p> +<p> "Father, you frighten me when you look at me in that way. Don't weigh + such different feelings in the same scales. I had a husband before I knew that + my father was living--"</p> +<p> "If your husband was the first to lay kisses on your forehead, I was + the first to drop tears upon it," replied Ferragus. "But don't feel + frightened, Clemence, speak to me frankly. I love you enough to rejoice in the + knowledge that you are happy, though I, your father, may have little place in + your heart, while you fill the whole of mine."</p> +<p> "Ah! what good such words do me! You make me love you more and more, + though I seem to rob something from my Jules. But, my kind father, think what + his sufferings are. What may I tell him to-day?"</p> +<p> "My child, do you think I waited for your letter to save you from this + threatened danger? Do you know what will become of those who venture to touch + your happiness, or come between us? Have you never been aware that a second + providence was guarding your life? Twelve men of power and intellect form a + phalanx round your love and your existence,-- ready to do all things to protect + you. Think of your father, who has risked death to meet you in the public promenades, + or see you asleep in your little bed in your mother's home, during the night-time. + Could such a father, to whom your innocent caresses give strength to live when + a man of honor ought to have died to escape his infamy, could <i>I</i>, in + short, I who breathe through your lips, and see with your eyes, and feel with + your heart, could I fail to defend with the claws of a lion and the soul of + a father, my only blessing, my life, my daughter? Since the death of that angel, + your mother, I have dreamed but of one thing,--the happiness of pressing you + to my heart in the face of the whole earth, of burying the convict,--" + He paused a moment, and then added: "--of giving you a father, a father + who could press without shame your husband's hand, who could live without fear + in both your hearts, who could say to all the world, 'This is my daughter,'--in + short, to be a happy father."</p> +<p> "Oh, father! father!"</p> +<p> "After infinite difficulty, after searching the whole globe,"<br> + continued Ferragus, "my friends have found me the skin of a dead man in + which to take my place once more in social life. A few days hence, I shall be + Monsieur de Funcal, a Portuguese count. Ah! my dear child, there are few men + of my age who would have had the patience to learn Portuguese and English, which + were spoken fluently by that devil of a sailor, who was drowned at sea."</p> +<p> "But, my dear father--"</p> +<p> "All has been foreseen, and prepared. A few days hence, his Majesty John + VI., King of Portugal will be my accomplice. My child, you must have a little + patience where your father has had so much. But ah! what would I not do to reward + your devotion for the last three years,-- coming religiously to comfort your + old father, at the risk of your own peace!"</p> +<p> "Father!" cried Clemence, taking his hands and kissing them.</p> +<p> "Come, my child, have courage still; keep my fatal secret a few days + longer, till the end is reached. Jules is not an ordinary man, I know; but are + we sure that his lofty character and his noble love may not impel him to dislike + the daughter of a--"</p> +<p> "Oh!" cried Clemence, "you have read my heart; I have no other + fear than that. The very thought turns me to ice," she added, in a heart- + rending tone. "But, father, think that I have promised him the truth in + two hours."</p> +<p> "If so, my daughter, tell him to go to the Portuguese embassy and see + the Comte de Funcal, your father. I will be there."</p> +<p> "But Monsieur de Maulincour has told him of Ferragus. Oh, father, what + torture, to deceive, deceive, deceive!"</p> +<p> "Need you say that to me? But only a few days more, and no living man + will be able to expose me. Besides, Monsieur de Maulincour is beyond the faculty + of remembering. Come, dry your tears, my silly child, and think--"</p> +<p> At this instant a terrible cry rang from the room in which Jules Desmarets + was stationed.</p> +<p> The clamor was heard by Madame Jules and Ferragus through the opening of the + wall, and struck them with terror.</p> +<p> "Go and see what it means, Clemence," said her father.</p> +<p> Clemence ran rapidly down the little staircase, found the door into Madame + Gruget's apartment wide open, heard the cries which echoed from the upper floor, + went up the stairs, guided by the noise of sobs, and caught these words before + she entered the fatal chamber:--</p> +<p> "You, monsieur, you, with your horrid inventions,--you are the cause + of her death!"</p> +<p> "Hush, miserable woman!" replied Jules, putting his handkerchief + on the mouth of the old woman, who began at once to cry out, "Murder!<br> + help!"</p> +<p> At this instant Clemence entered, saw her husband, uttered a cry, and fled + away.</p> +<p> "Who will save my child?" cried the widow Gruget. "You have + murdered her."</p> +<p> "How?" asked Jules, mechanically, for he was horror-struck at being + seen by his wife.</p> +<p> "Read that," said the old woman, giving him a letter. "Can + money or annuities console me for that?"</p> +<p> Farewell, mother! I bequeeth you what I have. I beg your pardon for my forlts, + and the last greef to which I put you by ending my life in the river. Henry, + who I love more than myself, says I have made his misfortune, and as he has + drifen me away, and I have lost all my hops of merrying him, I am going to droun + myself. I shall go abov Neuilly, so that they can't put me in the Morg. If Henry + does not hate me anny more after I am ded, ask him to berry a pore girl whose + hart beet for him only, and to forgif me, for I did rong to meddle in what didn't + consern me. Tak care of his wounds.<br> + How much he sufered, pore fellow! I shall have as much corage to kill myself + as he had to burn his bak. Carry home the corsets I have finished. And pray + God for your daughter.</p> +<p> Ida.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> "Take this letter to Monsieur de Funcal, who is upstairs," said + Jules.<br> + "He alone can save your daughter, if there is still time."</p> +<p> So saying he disappeared, running like a man who has committed a crime. His + legs trembled. The hot blood poured into his swelling heart in torrents greater + than at any other moment of his life, and left it again with untold violence. + Conflicting thoughts struggled in his mind, and yet one thought predominated,--he + had not been loyal to the being he loved most. It was impossible for him to + argue with his conscience, whose voice, rising high with conviction, came like + an echo of those inward cries of his love during the cruel hours of doubt he + had lately lived through.</p> +<p> He spent the greater part of the day wandering about Paris, for he dared not + go home. This man of integrity and honor feared to meet the spotless brow of + the woman he had misjudged. We estimate wrongdoing in proportion to the purity + of our conscience; the deed which is scarcely a fault in some hearts, takes + the proportions of a crime in certain unsullied souls. The slightest stain on + the white garment of a virgin makes it a thing ignoble as the rags of a mendicant. + Between the two the difference lies in the misfortune of the one, the wrong-doing + of the other. God never measures repentance; he never apportions it. As much + is needed to efface a spot as to obliterate the crimes of a lifetime. These + reflections fell with all their weight on Jules; passions, like human laws, + will not pardon, and their reasoning is more just; for are they not based upon + a conscience of their own as infallible as an instinct?</p> +<p> Jules finally came home pale, despondent, crushed beneath a sense of his wrong-doing, + and yet expressing in spite of himself the joy his wife's innocence had given + him. He entered her room all throbbing with emotion; she was in bed with a high + fever. He took her hand, kissed it, and covered it with tears.</p> +<p> "Dear angel," he said, when they were alone, "it is repentance."</p> +<p> "And for what?" she answered.</p> +<p> As she made that reply, she laid her head back upon the pillow, closed her + eyes, and remained motionless, keeping the secret of her sufferings that she + might not frighten her husband,--the tenderness of a mother, the delicacy of + an angel! All the woman was in her answer.</p> +<p> The silence lasted long. Jules, thinking her asleep, went to question Josephine + as to her mistress's condition.</p> +<p> "Madame came home half-dead, monsieur. We sent at once for Monsieur Haudry."</p> +<p> "Did he come? What did he say?"</p> +<p> "He said nothing, monsieur. He did not seem satisfied; gave orders that + no one should go near madame except the nurse, and said he should come back + this evening."</p> +<p> Jules returned softly to his wife's room and sat down in a chair before the + bed. There he remained, motionless, with his eyes fixed on those of Clemence. + When she raised her eyelids she saw him, and through those lids passed a tender + glance, full of passionate love, free from reproach and bitterness,--a look + which fell like a flame of fire upon the heart of that husband, nobly absolved + and forever loved by the being whom he had killed. The presentiment of death + struck both their minds with equal force. Their looks were blended in one anguish, + as their hearts had long been blended in one love, felt equally by both, and + shared equally. No questions were uttered; a horrible certainty was there,--in + the wife an absolute generosity; in the husband an awful remorse; then, in both + souls the same vision of the end, the same conviction of fatality.</p> +<p> There came a moment when, thinking his wife asleep, Jules kissed her softly + on the forehead; then after long contemplation of that cherished face, he said:--</p> +<p> "Oh God! leave me this angel still a little while that I may blot out + my wrong by love and adoration. As a daughter, she is sublime; as a wife, what + word can express her?"</p> +<p> Clemence raised her eyes; they were full of tears.</p> +<p> "You pain me," she said, in a feeble voice.</p> +<p> It was getting late; Doctor Haudry came, and requested the husband to withdraw + during his visit. When the doctor left the sick-room Jules asked him no question; + one gesture was enough.</p> +<p> "Call in consultation any physician in whom you place confidence; I may + be wrong."</p> +<p> "Doctor, tell me the truth. I am a man, and I can bear it. Besides, I + have the deepest interest in knowing it; I have certain affairs to settle."</p> +<p> "Madame Jules is dying," said the physician. "There is some + moral malady which has made great progress, and it has complicated her physical + condition, which was already dangerous, and made still more so by her great + imprudence. To walk about barefooted at night! to go out when I forbade it! + on foot yesterday in the rain, to-day in a carriage! She must have meant to + kill herself. But still, my judgment is not final; she has youth, and a most + amazing nervous strength. It may be best to risk all to win all by employing + some violent reagent.<br> + But I will not take upon myself to order it; nor will I advise it; in consultation + I shall oppose it."</p> +<p> Jules returned to his wife. For eleven days and eleven nights he remained + beside her bed, taking no sleep during the day when he laid his head upon the + foot of the bed. No man ever pushed the jealousy of care and the craving for + devotion to such an extreme as he. He could not endure that the slightest service + should be done by others for his wife. There were days of uncertainty, false + hopes, now a little better, then a crisis,--in short, all the horrible mutations + of death as it wavers, hesitates, and finally strikes. Madame Jules always found + strength to smile at her husband. She pitied him, knowing that soon he would + be alone. It was a double death,--that of life, that of love; but life grew + feebler, and love grew mightier. One frightful night there was, when Clemence + passed through that delirium which precedes the death of youth. She talked of + her happy love, she talked of her father; she related her mother's revelations + on her death-bed, and the obligations that mother had laid upon her. She struggled, + not for life, but for her love which she could not leave.</p> +<p> "Grant, O God!" she said, "that he may not know I want him + to die with me."</p> +<p> Jules, unable to bear the scene, was at that moment in the adjoining room, + and did not hear the prayer, which he would doubtless have fulfilled.</p> +<p> When this crisis was over, Madame Jules recovered some strength. The next + day she was beautiful and tranquil; hope seemed to come to her; she adorned + herself, as the dying often do. Then she asked to be alone all day, and sent + away her husband with one of those entreaties made so earnestly that they are + granted as we grant the prayer of a little child.</p> +<p> Jules, indeed, had need of this day. He went to Monsieur de Maulincour to + demand the satisfaction agreed upon between them. It was not without great difficulty + that he succeeded in reaching the presence of the author of these misfortunes; + but the vidame, when he learned that the visit related to an affair of honor, + obeyed the precepts of his whole life, and himself took Jules into the baron's + chamber.</p> +<p> Monsieur Desmarets looked about him in search of his antagonist.</p> +<p> "Yes! that is really he," said the vidame, motioning to a man who + was sitting in an arm-chair beside the fire.</p> +<p> "Who is it? Jules?" said the dying man in a broken voice.</p> +<p> Auguste had lost the only faculty that makes us live--memory. Jules Desmarets + recoiled with horror at this sight. He could not even recognize the elegant + young man in that thing without--as Bossuet said--a name in any language. It + was, in truth, a corpse with whitened hair, its bones scarce covered with a + wrinkled, blighted, withered skin,--a corpse with white eyes motionless, mouth + hideously gaping, like those of idiots or vicious men killed by excesses. No + trace of intelligence remained upon that brow, nor in any feature; nor was there + in that flabby flesh either color or the faintest appearance of circulating + blood. Here was a shrunken, withered creature brought to the state of those + monsters we see preserved in museums, floating in alchohol. Jules fancied that + he saw above that face the terrible head of Ferragus, and his own anger was + silenced by such a vengeance. The husband found pity in his heart for the vacant + wreck of what was once a man.</p> +<p> "The duel has taken place," said the vidame.</p> +<p> "But he has killed many," answered Jules, sorrowfully.</p> +<p> "And many dear ones," added the old man. "His grandmother is + dying; and I shall follow her soon into the grave."</p> +<p> On the morrow of this day, Madame Jules grew worse from hour to hour.<br> + She used a moment's strength to take a letter from beneath her pillow, and gave + it eagerly to her husband with a sign that was easy to understand,--she wished + to give him, in a kiss, her last breath. He took it, and she died. Jules fell + half-dead himself and was taken to his brother's house. There, as he deplored + in tears his absence of the day before, his brother told him that this separation + was eagerly desired by Clemence, who wished to spare him the sight of the religious + paraphernalia, so terrible to tender imaginations, which the Church displays + when conferring the last sacraments upon the dying.</p> +<p> "You could not have borne it," said his brother. "I could hardly + bear the sight myself, and all the servants wept. Clemence was like a saint. + She gathered strength to bid us all good-bye, and that voice, heard for the + last time, rent our hearts. When she asked pardon for the pain she might unwillingly + have caused her servants, there were cries and sobs and--"</p> +<p> "Enough! enough!" said Jules.</p> +<p> He wanted to be alone, that he might read the last words of the woman whom + all had loved, and who had passed away like a flower.</p> +<p> "My beloved, this is my last will. Why should we not make wills for the + treasures of our hearts, as for our worldly property? Was not my love my property, + my all? I mean here to dispose of my love: it was the only fortune of your Clemence, + and it is all that she can leave you in dying. Jules, you love me still, and + I die happy. The doctors may explain my death as they think best; I alone know + the true cause. I shall tell it to you, whatever pain it may cause you. I cannot + carry with me, in a heart all yours, a secret which you do not share, although + I die the victim of an enforced silence.</p> +<p> "Jules, I was nurtured and brought up in the deepest solitude, far from + the vices and the falsehoods of the world, by the loving woman whom you knew. + Society did justice to her conventional charm, for that is what pleases society; + but I knew secretly her precious soul, I could cherish the mother who made my + childhood a joy without bitterness, and I knew why I cherished her. Was not + that to love doubly? Yes, I loved her, I feared her, I respected her; yet nothing + oppressed my heart, neither fear nor respect. I was all in all to her; she was + all in all to me. For nineteen happy years, without a care, my soul, solitary + amid the world which muttered round me, reflected only her pure image; my heart + beat for her and through her. I was scrupulously pious; I found pleasure in + being innocent before God. My mother cultivated all noble and self-respecting + sentiments in me. Ah! it gives me happiness to tell you, Jules, that I now know + I was indeed a young girl, and that I came to you virgin in heart.</p> +<p> "When I left that absolute solitude, when, for the first time, I braided + my hair and crowned it with almond blossoms, when I added, with delight, a few + satin knots to my white dress, thinking of the world I was to see, and which + I was curious to see--Jules, that innocent and modest coquetry was done for + you! Yes, as I entered the world, I saw <i>you</i> first of all. Your face, + I remarked it; it stood out from the rest; your person pleased me; your voice, + your manners all inspired me with pleasant presentiments. When you came up, + when you spoke to me, the color on your forehead, the tremble in your voice,--that + moment gave me memories with which I throb as I now write to you, as I now, + for the last time, think of them.<br> + Our love was at first the keenest of sympathies, but it was soon discovered + by each of us and then, as speedily, shared; just as, in after times, we have + both equally felt and shared innumerable happinesses. From that moment my mother + was only second in my heart. Next, I was yours, all yours. There is my life, + and all my life, dear husband.</p> +<p> "And here is what remains for me to tell you. One evening, a few days + before my mother's death, she revealed to me the secret of her life,--not without + burning tears. I have loved you better since the day I learned from the priest + as he absolved my mother that there are passions condemned by the world and + by the Church.<br> + But surely God will not be severe when they are the sins of souls as tender + as that of my mother; only, that dear woman could never bring herself to repent. + She loved much, Jules; she was all love.<br> + So I have prayed daily for her, but never judged her.</p> +<p> "That night I learned the cause of her deep maternal tenderness; then + I also learned that there was in Paris a man whose life and whose love centred + on me; that your fortune was his doing, and that he loved you. I learned also + that he was exiled from society and bore a tarnished name; but that he was more + unhappy for me, for us, than for himself. My mother was all his comfort; she + was dying, and I promised to take her place. With all the ardor of a soul whose + feelings had never been perverted, I saw only the happiness of softening the + bitterness of my mother's last moments, and I pledged myself to continue her + work of secret charity,--the charity of the heart. The first time that I saw + my father was beside the bed where my mother had just expired. When he raised + his tearful eyes, it was to see in me a revival of his dead hopes.<br> + I had sworn, not to tell a lie, but to keep silence; and that silence what woman + could have broken it?</p> +<p> "There is my fault, Jules,--a fault which I expiate by death. I doubted + you. But fear is so natural to a woman; above all, a woman who knows what it + is that she may lose. I trembled for our love.<br> + My father's secret seemed to me the death of my happiness; and the more I loved, + the more I feared. I dared not avow this feeling to my father; it would have + wounded him, and in his situation a wound was agony. But, without a word from + me, he shared my fears. That fatherly heart trembled for my happiness as much + as I trembled for myself; but it dared not speak, obeying the same delicacy + that kept me mute. Yes, Jules, I believed that you could not love the daughter + of Gratien Bourignard as you loved your Clemence. Without that terror could + I have kept back anything from you,--you who live in every fold of my heart?</p> +<p> "The day when that odious, unfortunate young officer spoke to you, I + was forced to lie. That day, for the second time in my life, I knew what pain + was; that pain has steadily increased until this moment, when I speak with you + for the last time. What matters now my father's position? You know all. I could, + by the help of my love, have conquered my illness and borne its sufferings; + but I cannot stifle the voice of doubt. Is it not probable that my origin would + affect the purity of your love and weaken it, diminish it? That fear nothing + has been able to quench in me.<br> + There, Jules, is the cause of my death. I cannot live fearing a word, a look,--a + word you may never say, a look you may never give; but, I cannot help it, I + fear them. I die beloved; there is my consolation.</p> +<p> "I have known, for the last three years, that my father and his friends + have well-nigh moved the world to deceive the world. That I might have a station + in life, they have bought a dead man, a reputation, a fortune, so that a living + man might live again, restored; and all this for you, for us. We were never + to have known of it. Well, my death will save my father from that falsehood, + for he will not survive me.</p> +<p> "Farewell, Jules, my heart is all here. To show you my love in its agony + of fear, is not that bequeathing my whole soul to you? I could never have the + strength to speak to you; I have only enough to write. I have just confessed + to God the sins of my life. I have promised to fill my mind with the King of + Heaven only; but I must confess to him who is, for me, the whole of earth. Alas! + shall I not be pardoned for this last sigh between the life that was and the + life that shall be? Farewell, my Jules, my loved one! I go to God, with whom + is Love without a cloud, to whom you will follow me. There, before his throne, + united forever, we may love each other throughout the ages. This hope alone + can comfort me. If I am worthy of being there at once, I will follow you through + life. My soul shall bear your company; it will wrap you about, for <i>you</i> + must stay here still,--ah! here below. Lead a holy life that you may the more + surely come to me. You can do such good upon this earth! Is it not an angel's + mission for the suffering soul to shed happiness about him,--to give to others + that which he has not? I bequeath you to the Unhappy. Their smiles, their tears, + are the only ones of which I cannot be jealous. We shall find a charm in sweet + beneficence. Can we not live together still if you would join my name--your + Clemence--in these good works?</p> +<p> "After loving as we have loved, there is naught but God, Jules.<br> + God does not lie; God never betrays. Adore him only, I charge you!<br> + Lead those who suffer up to him; comfort the sorrowing members of his Church. + Farewell, dear soul that I have filled! I know you; you will never love again. + I may die happy in the thought that makes all women happy. Yes, my grave will + be your heart. After this childhood I have just related, has not my life flowed + on within that heart? Dead, you will never drive me forth. I am proud of that + rare life! You will know me only in the flower of my youth; I leave you regrets + without disillusions. Jules, it is a happy death.</p> +<p> "You, who have so fully understood me, may I ask one thing more of you,--superfluous + request, perhaps, the fulfilment of a woman's fancy, the prayer of a jealousy + we all must feel,--I pray you to burn all that especially belonged to <i>us</i>, + destroy our chamber, annihilate all that is a memory of our happiness.</p> +<p> "Once more, farewell,--the last farewell! It is all love, and so will + be my parting thought, my parting breath."</p> +<p> When Jules had read that letter there came into his heart one of those wild + frenzies of which it is impossible to describe the awful anguish.<br> + All sorrows are individual; their effects are not subjected to any fixed rule. + Certain men will stop their ears to hear nothing; some women close their eyes + hoping never to see again; great and splendid souls are met with who fling themselves + into sorrow as into an abyss.<br> + In the matter of despair, all is true.</p> +<h2 align="center"> </h2> +<h2 align="center"> </h2> +<h2 align="center"> CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3 align="center"> CONCLUSION</h3> +<p> </p> +<p> Jules escaped from his brother's house and returned home, wishing to pass + the night beside his wife, and see till the last moment that celestial creature. + As he walked along with an indifference to life known only to those who have + reached the last degree of wretchedness, he thought of how, in India, the law + ordained that widows should die; he longed to die. He was not yet crushed; the + fever of his grief was still upon him. He reached his home and went up into + the sacred chamber; he saw his Clemence on the bed of death, beautiful, like + a saint, her hair smoothly laid upon her forehead, her hands joined, her body + wrapped already in its shroud. Tapers were lighted, a priest was praying, Josephine + kneeling in a corner, wept, and, near the bed, were two men. One was Ferragus. + He stood erect, motionless, gazing at his daughter with dry eyes; his head you + might have taken for bronze: he did not see Jules.<br> +</p> +<p> The other man was Jacquet,--Jacquet, to whom Madame Jules had been ever kind. + Jacquet felt for her one of those respectful friendships which rejoice the untroubled + heart; a gentle passion; love without its desires and its storms. He had come + to pay his debt of tears, to bid a long adieu to the wife of his friend, to + kiss, for the first time, the icy brow of the woman he had tacitly made his + sister.</p> +<p> All was silence. Here death was neither terrible as in the churches, nor pompous + as it makes its way along the streets; no, it was death in the home, a tender + death; here were pomps of the heart, tears drawn from the eyes of all. Jules + sat down beside Jacquet and pressed his hand; then, without uttering a word, + all these persons remained as they were till morning.</p> +<p> When daylight paled the tapers, Jacquet, foreseeing the painful scenes which + would then take place, drew Jules away into another room. At this moment the + husband looked at the father, and Ferragus looked at Jules. The two sorrows + arraigned each other, measured each other, and comprehended each other in that + look. A flash of fury shone for an instant in the eyes of Ferragus.</p> +<p> "You killed her," thought he.</p> +<p> "Why was I distrusted?" seemed the answer of the husband.</p> +<p> The scene was one that might have passed between two tigers recognizing the + futility of a struggle and, after a moment's hesitation, turning away, without + even a roar.</p> +<p> "Jacquet," said Jules, "have you attended to everything?"</p> +<p> "Yes, to everything," replied his friend, "but a man had forestalled + me who had ordered and paid for all."</p> +<p> "He tears his daughter from me!" cried the husband, with the violence + of despair.</p> +<p> Jules rushed back to his wife's room; but the father was there no longer. + Clemence had now been placed in a leaden coffin, and workmen were employed in + soldering the cover. Jules returned, horrified by the sight; the sound of the + hammers the men were using made him mechanically burst into tears.</p> +<p> "Jacquet," he said, "out of this dreadful night one idea has + come to me, only one, but one I must make a reality at any price. I cannot let + Clemence stay in any cemetery in Paris. I wish to burn her,--to gather her ashes + and keep her with me. Say nothing of this, but manage on my behalf to have it + done. I am going to <i>her</i> chamber, where I shall stay until the time + has come to go. You alone may come in there to tell me what you have done. Go, + and spare nothing."</p> +<p> During the morning, Madame Jules, after lying in a mortuary chapel at the + door of her house, was taken to Saint-Roch. The church was hung with black throughout. + The sort of luxury thus displayed had drawn a crowd; for in Paris all things + are sights, even true grief. There are people who stand at their windows to + see how a son deplores a mother as he follows her body; there are others who + hire commodious seats to see how a head is made to fall. No people in the world + have such insatiate eyes as the Parisians. On this occasion, inquisitive minds + were particularly surprised to see the six lateral chapels at Saint- Roch also + hung in black. Two men in mourning were listening to a mortuary mass said in + each chapel. In the chancel no other persons but Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, + and Jacquet were present; the servants of the household were outside the screen. + To church loungers there was something inexplicable in so much pomp and so few + mourners. But Jules had been determined that no indifferent persons should be + present at the ceremony.</p> +<p> High mass was celebrated with the sombre magnificence of funeral services. + Beside the ministers in ordinary of Saint-Roch, thirteen priests from other + parishes were present. Perhaps never did the <i>Dies irae </i>produce upon + Christians, assembled by chance, by curiosity, and thirsting for emotions, an + effect so profound, so nervously glacial as that now caused by this hymn when + the eight voices of the precentors, accompanied by the voices of the priests + and the choir-boys, intoned it alternately. From the six lateral chapels twelve + other childish voices rose shrilly in grief, mingling with the choir voices + lamentably. From all parts of the church this mourning issued; cries of anguish + responded to the cries of fear. That terrible music was the voice of sorrows + hidden from the world, of secret friendships weeping for the dead. Never, in + any human religion, have the terrors of the soul, violently torn from the body + and stormily shaken in presence of the fulminating majesty of God, been rendered + with such force. Before that clamor of clamors all artists and their most passionate + compositions must bow humiliated. No, nothing can stand beside that hymn, which + sums all human passions, gives them a galvanic life beyond the coffin, and leaves + them, palpitating still, before the living and avenging God. These cries of + childhood, mingling with the tones of older voices, including thus in the Song + of Death all human life and its developments, recalling the sufferings of the + cradle, swelling to the griefs of other ages in the stronger male voices and + the quavering of the priests,--all this strident harmony, big with lightning + and thunderbolts, does it not speak with equal force to the daring imagination, + the coldest heart, nay, to philosophers themselves? As we hear it, we think + God speaks; the vaulted arches of no church are mere material; they have a voice, + they tremble, they scatter fear by the might of their echoes. We think we see + unnumbered dead arising and holding out their hands. It is no more a father, + a wife, a child,-- humanity itself is rising from its dust.</p> +<p> It is impossible to judge of the catholic, apostolic, and Roman faith, unless + the soul has known that deepest grief of mourning for a loved one lying beneath + the pall; unless it has felt the emotions that fill the heart, uttered by that + Hymn of Despair, by those cries that crush the mind, by that sacred fear augmenting + strophe by strophe, ascending heavenward, which terrifies, belittles, and elevates + the soul, and leaves within our minds, as the last sound ceases, a consciousness + of immortality. We have met and struggled with the vast idea of the Infinite. + After that, all is silent in the church. No word is said; sceptics themselves<i> + know not what they are feeling</i>. Spanish genius alone was able to bring + this untold majesty to untold griefs.</p> +<p> When the solemn ceremony was over, twelve men came from the six chapels and + stood around the coffin to hear the song of hope which the Church intones for + the Christian soul before the human form is buried.<br> + Then, each man entered alone a mourning-coach; Jacquet and Monsieur Desmarets + took the thirteenth; the servants followed on foot. An hour later, they were + at the summit of that cemetery popularly called Pere- Lachaise. The unknown + twelve men stood in a circle round the grave, where the coffin had been laid + in presence of a crowd of loiterers gathered from all parts of this public garden. + After a few short prayers the priest threw a handful of earth on the remains + of this woman, and the grave-diggers, having asked for their fee, made haste + to fill the grave in order to dig another.</p> +<p> Here this history seems to end; but perhaps it would be incomplete if, after + giving a rapid sketch of Parisian life, and following certain of its capricious + undulations, the effects of death were omitted. Death in Paris is unlike death + in any other capital; few persons know the trials of true grief in its struggle + with civilization, and the government of Paris. Perhaps, also, Monsieur Jules + and Ferragus XXIII.<br> + may have proved sufficiently interesting to make a few words on their after + life not entirely out of place. Besides, some persons like to be told all, and + wish, as one of our cleverest critics has remarked, to know by what chemical + process oil was made to burn in Aladdin's lamp.</p> +<p> Jacquet, being a government employee, naturally applied to the authorities + for permission to exhume the body of Madame Jules and burn it. He went to see + the prefect of police, under whose protection the dead sleep. That functionary + demanded a petition. The blank was brought that gives to sorrow its proper administrative + form; it was necessary to employ the bureaucratic jargon to express the wishes + of a man so crushed that words, perhaps, were lacking to him, and it was also + necessary to coldly and briefly repeat on the margin the nature of the request, + which was done in these words: "The petitioner respectfully asks for the + incineration of his wife."</p> +<p> When the official charged with making the report to the Councillor of State + and prefect of police read that marginal note, explaining the object of the + petition, and couched, as requested, in the plainest terms, he said:--</p> +<p> "This is a serious matter! my report cannot be ready under eight days."</p> +<p> Jules, to whom Jacquet was obliged to speak of this delay, comprehended the + words that Ferragus had said in his hearing, "I'll burn Paris!" Nothing + seemed to him now more natural than to annihilate that receptacle of monstrous + things.</p> +<p> "But," he said to Jacquet, "you must go to the minister of + the Interior, and get your minister to speak to him."</p> +<p> Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; it was + granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet was a persistent + man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally reached the private secretary + of the minister of the Interior, to whom he had made the private secretary of + his own minister say a word.<br> + These high protectors aiding, he obtained for the morrow a second interview, + in which, being armed with a line from the autocrat of Foreign affairs to the + pacha of the Interior, Jacquet hoped to carry the matter by assault. He was + ready with reasons, and answers to peremptory questions,--in short, he was armed + at all points; but he failed.</p> +<p> "This matter does not concern me," said the minister; "it belongs + to the prefect of police. Besides, there is no law giving a husband any legal + right to the body of his wife, nor to fathers those of their children. The matter + is serious. There are questions of public utility involved which will have to + be examined. The interests of the city of Paris might suffer. Therefore if the + matter depended on me, which it does not, I could not decide <i>hic et nunc</i>; + I should require a report."</p> +<p> A <i>report</i> is to the present system of administration what limbo or + hades is to Christianity. Jacquet knew very well the mania for "reports"; + he had not waited until this occasion to groan at that bureaucratic absurdity. + He knew that since the invasion into public business of the <i>Report</i> + (an administrative revolution consummated in 1804) there was never known a single + minister who would take upon himself to have an opinion or to decide the slightest + matter, unless that opinion or matter had been winnowed, sifted, and plucked + to bits by the paper-spoilers, quill-drivers, and splendid intellects of his + particular bureau. Jacquet--he was one of those who are worthy of Plutarch as + biographer--saw that he had made a mistake in his management of the affair, + and had, in fact, rendered it impossible by trying to proceed legally. The thing + he should have done was to have taken Madame Jules to one of Desmaret's estates + in the country; and there, under the good-natured authority of some village + mayor to have gratified the sorrowful longing of his friend. Law, constitutional + and administrative, begets nothing; it is a barren monster for peoples, for + kings, and for private interests. But the peoples decipher no principles but + those that are writ in blood, and the evils of legality will always be pacific; + it flattens a nation down, that is all.<br> + Jacquet, a man of modern liberty, returned home reflecting on the benefits of + arbitrary power.</p> +<p> When he went with his report to Jules, he found it necessary to deceive him, + for the unhappy man was in a high fever, unable to leave his bed. The minister + of the Interior mentioned, at a ministerial dinner that same evening, the singular + fancy of a Parisian in wishing to burn his wife after the manner of the Romans. + The clubs of Paris took up the subject, and talked for a while of the burials + of antiquity. Ancient things were just then becoming a fashion, and some persons + declared that it would be a fine thing to re-establish, for distinguished persons, + the funeral pyre. This opinion had its defenders and its detractors. Some said + that there were too many such personages, and the price of wood would be enormously + increased by such a custom; moreover, it would be absurd to see our ancestors + in their urns in the procession at Longchamps. And if the urns were valuable, + they were likely some day to be sold at auction, full of respectable ashes, + or seized by creditors,--a race of men who respected nothing. The other side + made answer that our ancestors were much safer in urns than at Pere-Lachaise, + for before very long the city of Paris would be compelled to order a Saint-Bartholomew + against its dead, who were invading the neighboring country, and threatening + to invade the territory of Brie. It was, in short, one of those futile but witty + discussions which sometimes cause deep and painful wounds.<br> + Happily for Jules, he knew nothing of the conversations, the witty speeches, + and arguments which his sorrow had furnished to the tongues of Paris.</p> +<p> The prefect of police was indignant that Monsieur Jacquet had appealed to + a minister to avoid the wise delays of the commissioners of the public highways; + for the exhumation of Madame Jules was a question belonging to that department. + The police bureau was doing its best to reply promptly to the petition; one + appeal was quite sufficient to set the office in motion, and once in motion + matters would go far. But as for the administration, that might take the case + before the Council of state,--a machine very difficult indeed to move.</p> +<p> After the second day Jacquet was obliged to tell his friend that he must renounce + his desire, because, in a city where the number of tears shed on black draperies + is tariffed, where the laws recognize seven classes of funerals, where the scrap + of ground to hold the dead is sold at its weight in silver, where grief is worked + for what it is worth, where the prayers of the Church are costly, and the vestry + claim payment for extra voices in the <i>Dies irae,</i>--all attempt to get + out of the rut prescribed by the authorities for sorrow is useless and impossible.</p> +<p> "It would have been to me," said Jules, "a comfort in my misery. + I meant to have died away from here, and I hoped to hold her in my arms in a + distant grave. I did not know that bureaucracy could send its claws into our + very coffins."</p> +<p> He now wished to see if room had been left for him beside his wife.<br> + The two friends went to the cemetery. When they reached it they found (as at + the doors of museums, galleries, and coach-offices) <i>ciceroni</i>, who proposed + to guide them through the labyrinth of Pere-Lachaise.<br> + Neither Jules nor Jacquet could have found the spot where Clemence lay. Ah, + frightful anguish! They went to the lodge to consult the porter of the cemetery. + The dead have a porter, and there are hours when the dead are "not receiving." + It is necessary to upset all the rules and regulations of the upper and lower + police to obtain permission to weep at night, in silence and solitude, over + the grave where a loved one lies. There's a rule for summer and a rule for winter + about this.</p> +<p> Certainly, of all the porters in Paris, the porter of Pere-Lachaise is the + luckiest. In the first place, he has no gate-cord to pull; then, instead of + a lodge, he has a house,--an establishment which is not quite ministerial, although + a vast number of persons come under his administration, and a good many employees. + And this governor of the dead has a salary, with emoluments, and acts under + powers of which none complain; he plays despot at his ease. His lodge is not + a place of business, though it has departments where the book-keeping of receipts, + expenses, and profits, is carried on. The man is not a <i>suisse</i>, nor + a concierge, nor actually a porter. The gate which admits the dead stands wide + open; and though there are monuments and buildings to be cared for, he is not + a care-taker. In short, he is an indefinable anomaly, an authority which participates + in all, and yet is nothing,--an authority placed, like the dead on whom it is + based, outside of all. Nevertheless, this exceptional man grows out of the city + of Paris,--that chimerical creation like the ship which is its emblem, that + creature of reason moving on a thousand paws which are seldom unanimous in motion.</p> +<p> This guardian of the cemetery may be called a concierge who has reached the + condition of a functionary, not soluble by dissolution!<br> + His place is far from being a sinecure. He does not allow any one to be buried + without a permit; he must count his dead. He points out to you in this vast + field the six feet square of earth where you will one day put all you love, + or all you hate, a mistress, or a cousin. Yes, remember this: all the feelings + and emotions of Paris come to end here, at this porter's lodge, where they are + administrationized. This man has registers in which his dead are booked; they + are in their graves, and also on his records. He has under him keepers, gardeners, + grave-diggers, and their assistants. He is a personage. Mourning hearts do not + speak to him at first. He does not appear at all except in serious cases, such + as one corpse mistaken for another, a murdered body, an exhumation, a dead man + coming to life. The bust of the reigning king is in his hall; possibly he keeps + the late royal, imperial, and quasi-royal busts in some cupboard,--a sort of + little Pere-Lachaise all ready for revolutions. In short, he is a public man, + an excellent man, good husband and good father,--epitaph apart. But so many + diverse sentiments have passed before him on biers; he has seen so many tears, + true and false; he has beheld sorrow under so many aspects and on so many faces; + he has heard such endless thousands of eternal woes,--that to him sorrow has + come to be nothing more than a stone an inch thick, four feet long, and twenty-four + inches wide. As for regrets, they are the annoyances of his office; he neither + breakfasts nor dines without first wiping off the rain of an inconsolable affliction. + He is kind and tender to other feelings; he will weep over a stage-hero, over + Monsieur Germeuil in the "Auberge des Adrets," the man with the butter-colored + breeches, murdered by Macaire; but his heart is ossified in the matter of real + dead men.<br> + Dead men are ciphers, numbers, to him; it is his business to organize death. + Yet he does meet, three times in a century, perhaps, with an occasion when his + part becomes sublime, and then he <i>is</i> sublime through every hour of + his day,--in times of pestilence.</p> +<p> When Jacquet approached him this absolute monarch was evidently out of temper.</p> +<p> "I told you," he was saying, "to water the flowers from the + rue Massena to the place Regnault de Saint-Jean-d'Angely. You paid no attention + to me! <i>Sac-a-papier</i>! suppose the relations should take it into their + heads to come here to-day because the weather is fine, what would they say to + me? They'd shriek as if they were burned; they'd say horrid things of us, and + calumniate us--"</p> +<p> "Monsieur," said Jacquet, "we want to know where Madame Jules + is buried."</p> +<p> "Madame Jules <i>who</i>?" he asked. "We've had three Madame + Jules within the last week. Ah," he said, interrupting himself, "here + comes the funeral of Monsieur le Baron de Maulincour! A fine procession, that!<br> + He has soon followed his grandmother. Some families, when they begin to go, + rattle down like a wager. Lots of bad blood in Parisians."</p> +<p> "Monsieur," said Jacquet, touching him on the arm, "the person + I spoke of is Madame Jules Desmarets, the wife of the broker of that name."</p> +<p> "Ah, I know!" he replied, looking at Jacquet. "Wasn't it a + funeral with thirteen mourning coaches, and only one mourner in the twelve first? + It was so droll we all noticed it--"</p> +<p> "Monsieur, take care, Monsieur Desmarets is with me; he might hear you, + and what you say is not seemly."</p> +<p> "I beg pardon, monsieur! you are quite right. Excuse me, I took you for + heirs. Monsieur," he continued, after consulting a plan of the cemetery, + "Madame Jules is in the rue Marechal Lefebre, alley No. 4, between Mademoiselle + Raucourt, of the Comedie-Francaise, and Monsieur Moreau-Malvin, a butcher, for + whom a handsome tomb in white marble has been ordered, which will be one of + the finest in the cemetery--"</p> +<p> "Monsieur," said Jacquet, interrupting him, "that does not + help us."</p> +<p> "True," said the official, looking round him. "Jean," + he cried, to a man whom he saw at a little distance, "conduct these gentlemen + to the grave of Madame Jules Desmarets, the broker's wife. You know where it + is,--near to Mademoiselle Raucourt, the tomb where there's a bust."</p> +<p> The two friends followed the guide; but they did not reach the steep path + which leads to the upper part of the cemetery without having to pass through + a score of proposals and requests, made, with honied softness, by the touts + of marble-workers, iron-founders, and monumental sculptors.</p> +<p> "If monsieur would like to order <i>something</i>, we would do it on + the most reasonable terms."</p> +<p> Jacquet was fortunate enough to be able to spare his friend the hearing of + these proposals so agonizing to bleeding hearts; and presently they reached + the resting-place. When Jules beheld the earth so recently dug, into which the + masons had stuck stakes to mark the place for the stone posts required to support + the iron railing, he turned, and leaned upon Jacquet's shoulder, raising himself + now and again to cast long glances at the clay mound where he was forced to + leave the remains of the being in and by whom he still lived.</p> +<p> "How miserably she lies there!" he said.</p> +<p> "But she is not there," said Jacquet, "she is in your memory. + Come, let us go; let us leave this odious cemetery, where the dead are adorned + like women for a ball."</p> +<p> "Suppose we take her away?"</p> +<p> "Can it be done?"</p> +<p> "All things can be done!" cried Jules. "So, I shall lie there," + he added, after a pause. "There is room enough."</p> +<p> Jacquet finally succeeded in getting him to leave the great enclosure, divided + like a chessboard by iron railings and elegant compartments, in which were tombs + decorated with palms, inscriptions, and tears as cold as the stones on which + sorrowing hearts had caused to be carved their regrets and coats of arms. Many + good words are there engraved in black letters, epigrams reproving the curious, + <i>concetti</i>, wittily turned farewells, rendezvous given at which only + one side appears, pretentious biographies, glitter, rubbish and tinsel. Here + the floriated thyrsus, there a lance-head, farther on Egyptian urns, now and + then a few cannon; on all sides the emblems of professions, and every style + of art,--Moorish, Greek, Gothic,--friezes, ovules, paintings, vases, guardian-angels, + temples, together with innumerable <i>immortelles</i>, and dead rose-bushes. + It is a forlorn comedy! It is another Paris, with its streets, its signs, its + industries, and its lodgings; but a Paris seen through the diminishing end of + an opera- glass, a microscopic Paris reduced to the littleness of shadows, spectres, + dead men, a human race which no longer has anything great about it, except its + vanity. There Jules saw at his feet, in the long valley of the Seine, between + the slopes of Vaugirard and Meudon and those of Belleville and Montmartre, the + real Paris, wrapped in a misty blue veil produced by smoke, which the sunlight + tendered at that moment diaphanous. He glanced with a constrained eye at those + forty thousand houses, and said, pointing to the space comprised between the + column of the Place Vendome and the gilded cupola of the Invalides:--</p> +<p> "She was wrenched from me there by the fatal curiosity of that world + which excites itself and meddles solely for excitement and occupation."</p> +<p> Twelve miles from where they were, on the banks of the Seine, in a modest + village lying on the slope of a hill of that long hilly basin the middle of + which great Paris stirs like a child in its cradle, a death scene was taking + place, far indeed removed from Parisian pomps, with no accompaniment of torches + or tapers or mourning-coaches, without prayers of the Church, in short, a death + in all simplicity.<br> + Here are the facts: The body of a young girl was found early in the morning, + stranded on the river-bank in the slime and reeds of the Seine. Men employed + in dredging sand saw it as they were getting into their frail boat on their + way to their work.</p> +<p> "<i>Tiens</i>! fifty francs earned!" said one of them.</p> +<p> "True," said the other.</p> +<p> They approached the body.</p> +<p> "A handsome girl! We had better go and make our statement."</p> +<p> And the two dredgers, after covering the body with their jackets, went to + the house of the village mayor, who was much embarrassed at having to make out + the legal papers necessitated by this discovery.</p> +<p> The news of this event spread with the telegraphic rapidity peculiar to regions + where social communications have no distractions, where gossip, scandal, calumny, + in short, the social tale which feasts the world has no break of continuity + from one boundary to another. Before long, persons arriving at the mayor's office + released him from all embarrassment. They were able to convert the <i>proces-verbal</i> + into a mere certificate of death, by recognizing the body as that of the Demoiselle + Ida Gruget, corset-maker, living rue de la Corderie-du- Temple, number 14. The + judiciary police of Paris arrived, and the mother, bearing her daughter's last + letter. Amid the mother's moans, a doctor certified to death by asphyxia, through + the injection of black blood into the pulmonary system,--which settled the matter. + The inquest over, and the certificates signed, by six o'clock the same evening + authority was given to bury the grisette. The rector of the parish, however, + refused to receive her into the church or to pray for her. Ida Gruget was therefore + wrapped in a shroud by an old peasant- woman, put into a common pine-coffin, + and carried to the village cemetery by four men, followed by a few inquisitive + peasant-women, who talked about the death with wonder mingled with some pity.</p> +<p> The widow Gruget was charitably taken in by an old lady who prevented her + from following the sad procession of her daughter's funeral. A man of triple + functions, the bell-ringer, beadle, and grave-digger of the parish, had dug + a grave in the half-acre cemetery behind the church,-- a church well known, + a classic church, with a square tower and pointed roof covered with slate, supported + on the outside by strong corner buttresses. Behind the apse of the chancel, + lay the cemetery, enclosed with a dilapidated wall,--a little field full of + hillocks; no marble monuments, no visitors, but surely in every furrow, tears + and true regrets, which were lacking to Ida Gruget. She was cast into a corner + full of tall grass and brambles. After the coffin had been laid in this field, + so poetic in its simplicity, the grave-digger found himself alone, for night + was coming on. While filling the grave, he stopped now and then to gaze over + the wall along the road. He was standing thus, resting on his spade, and looking + at the Seine, which had brought him the body.</p> +<p> "Poor girl!" cried the voice of a man who suddenly appeared.</p> +<p> "How you made me jump, monsieur," said the grave-digger.</p> +<p> "Was any service held over the body you are burying?"</p> +<p> "No, monsieur. Monsieur le cure wasn't willing. This is the first person + buried here who didn't belong to the parish. Everybody knows everybody else + in this place. Does monsieur--Why, he's gone!"</p> +<p> Some days had elapsed when a man dressed in black called at the house of Monsieur + Jules Desmarets, and without asking to see him carried up to the chamber of + his wife a large porphyry vase, on which were inscribed the words:--</p> +<p> </p> +<p> INVITA LEGE CONJUGI MOERENTI FILIOLAE CINERES RESTITUIT AMICIS XII. JUVANTIBUS + MORIBUNDUS PATER.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> "What a man!" cried Jules, bursting into tears.</p> +<p> Eight days sufficed the husband to obey all the wishes of his wife, and to + arrange his own affairs. He sold his practice to a brother of Martin Falleix, + and left Paris while the authorities were still discussing whether it was lawful + for a citizen to dispose of the body of his wife.</p> +<p align="center"> *****</p> +<p> Who has not encountered on the boulevards of Paris, at the turn of a street, + or beneath the arcades of the Palais-Royal, or in any part of the world where + chance may offer him the sight, a being, man or woman, at whose aspect a thousand + confused thoughts spring into his mind? At that sight we are suddenly interested, + either by features of some fantastic conformation which reveal an agitated life, + or by a singular effect of the whole person, produced by gestures, air, gait, + clothes; or by some deep, intense look; or by other inexpressible signs which + seize our minds suddenly and forcibly without our being able to explain even + to ourselves the cause of our emotion. The next day other thoughts and other + images have carried out of sight that passing dream. But if we meet the same + personage again, either passing at some fixed hour, like the clerk of a mayor's + office, or wandering about the public promenades, like those individuals who + seem to be a sort of furniture of the streets of Paris, and who are always to + be found in public places, at first representations or noted restaurants,--then + this being fastens himself or herself on our memory, and remains there like + the first volume of a novel the end of which is lost. We are tempted to question + this unknown person, and say, "Who are you?" "Why are you lounging + here?" "By what right do you wear that pleated ruffle, that faded + waistcoat, and carry that cane with an ivory top; why those blue spectacles; + for what reason do you cling to that cravat of a dead and gone fashion?" + Among these wandering creations some belong to the species of the Greek Hermae; + they say nothing to the soul; <i>they are there</i>, and that is all. Why? + is known to none. Such figure are a type of those used by sculptors for the + four Seasons, for Commerce, for Plenty, etc. Some others--former lawyers, old + merchants, elderly generals--move and walk, and yet seem stationary. Like old + trees that are half uprooted by the current of a river, they seem never to take + part in the torrent of Paris, with its youthful, active crowd. It is impossible + to know if their friends have forgotten to bury them, or whether they have escaped + out of their coffins. At any rate, they have reached the condition of semi-fossils.</p> +<p></p> +One of these Parisian Melmoths had come within a few days into a neighborhood +of sober, quiet people, who, when the weather is fine, are invariably to be found +in the space which lies between the south entrance of the Luxembourg and the north +entrance of the Observatoire, --a space without a name, the neutral space of Paris. +There, Paris is no longer; and there, Paris still lingers. The spot is a mingling +of street, square, boulevard, fortification, garden, avenue, high-road, province, +and metropolis; certainly, all of that is to be found there, and yet the place +is nothing of all that,--it is a desert. Around this spot without a name stand +the Foundling hospital, the Bourbe, the Cochin hospital, the Capucines, the hospital +La Rochefoucauld, the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the hospital of the Val-de-Grace; +in short, all the vices and all the misfortunes of Paris find their asylum there.<br> +And (that nothing may lack in this philanthropic centre) Science there studies +the tides and longitudes, Monsieur de Chateaubriand has erected the Marie-Therese +Infirmary, and the Carmelites have founded a convent. The great events of life +are represented by bells which ring incessantly through this desert,--for the +mother giving birth, for the babe that is born, for the vice that succumbs, for +the toiler who dies, for the virgin who prays, for the old man shaking with cold, +for genius self-deluded. And a few steps off is the cemetery of Mont- Parnasse, +where, hour after hour, the sorry funerals of the faubourg Saint-Marceau wend +their way. This esplanade, which commands a view of Paris, has been taken possession +of by bowl-players; it is, in fact, a sort of bowling green frequented by old +gray faces, belonging to kindly, worthy men, who seem to continue the race of +our ancestors, whose countenances must only be compared with those of their surroundings. +<p> The man who had become, during the last few days, an inhabitant of this desert + region, proved an assiduous attendant at these games of bowls; and must, undoubtedly, + be considered the most striking creature of these various groups, who (if it + is permissible to liken Parisians to the different orders of zoology) belonged + to the genus mollusk. The new-comer kept sympathetic step with the <i>cochonnet</i>,--the + little bowl which serves as a goal and on which the interest of the game must + centre. He leaned against a tree when the <i>cochonnet</i> stopped; then, + with the same attention that a dog gives to his master's gestures, he looked + at the other bowls flying through the air, or rolling along the ground. You + might have taken him for the weird and watchful genii of the <i>cochonnet</i>. + He said nothing; and the bowl-players--the most fanatic men that can be encountered + among the sectarians of any faith --had never asked the reason of his dogged + silence; in fact, the most observing of them thought him deaf and dumb.</p> +<p> When it happened that the distances between the bowls and the <i>cochonnet</i> + had to be measured, the cane of this silent being was used as a measure, the + players coming up and taking it from the icy hands of the old man and returning + it without a word or even a sign of friendliness. The loan of his cane seemed + a servitude to which he had negatively consented. When a shower fell, he stayed + near the <i>cochonnet</i>, the slave of the bowls, and the guardian of the + unfinished game. Rain affected him no more than the fine weather did; he was, + like the players themselves, an intermediary species between a Parisian who + has the lowest intellect of his kind and an animal which has the highest.</p> +<p> In other respects, pallid and shrunken, indifferent to his own person, vacant + in mind, he often came bareheaded, showing his sparse white hair, and his square, + yellow, bald skull, like the knee of a beggar seen through his tattered trousers. + His mouth was half-open, no ideas were in his glance, no precise object appeared + in his movements; he never smiled; he never raised his eyes to heaven, but kept + them habitually on the ground, where he seemed to be looking for something.<br> + At four o'clock an old woman arrived, to take him Heaven knows where; which + she did by towing him along by the arm, as a young girl drags a wilful goat + which still wants to browse by the wayside. This old man was a horrible thing + to see.</p> +<p> In the afternoon of the day when Jules Desmarets left Paris, his travelling-carriage, + in which he was alone, passed rapidly through the rue de l'Est, and came out + upon the esplanade of the Observatoire at the moment when the old man, leaning + against a tree, had allowed his cane to be taken from his hand amid the noisy + vociferations of the players, pacifically irritated. Jules, thinking that he + recognized that face, felt an impulse to stop, and at the same instant the carriage + came to a standstill; for the postilion, hemmed in by some handcarts, had too + much respect for the game to call upon the players to make way for him.</p> +<p> "It is he!" said Jules, beholding in that human wreck, Ferragus + XXIII., chief of the Devorants. Then, after a pause, he added, "How he + loved her!--Go on, postilion."</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 align="center"> </h3> +<h3 align="center"> </h3> +<h3 align="center"> </h3> +<h3 align="center"> ADDENDUM</h3> +<p> Note: Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is entitled The Duchesse + de Langeais and part three is The Girl with the Golden Eyes. In other addendum + references all three stories are usually combined under the title The Thirteen.</p> +<p> The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy.</p> +<p> Bourignard, Gratien-Henri-Victor-Jean-Joseph The Girl with the Golden Eyes</p> +<p> Desmartes, Jules Cesar Birotteau</p> +<p> Desmartes, Madame Jules Cesar Birotteau</p> +<p> Desplein The Atheist's Mass Cousin Pons Lost Illusions The Government Clerks + Pierrette A Bachelor's Establishment The Seamy Side of History Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Honorine</p> +<p> Gruget, Madame Etienne The Government Clerks A Bachelor's Establishment</p> +<p> Haudry (doctor) Cesar Birotteau A Bachelor's Establishment The Seamy Side + of History Cousin Pons</p> +<p> Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de Father Goriot The Duchesse of Langeais</p> +<p> Marsay, Henri de The Duchesse of Langeais The Girl with the Golden Eyes The + Unconscious Humorists Another Study of Woman The Lily of the Valley Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town Ursule Mirouet A Marriage Settlement Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Letters of Two Brides The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon The Secrets of a Princess The Gondreville Mystery A Daughter + of Eve</p> +<p> Maulincour, Baronne de A Marriage Settlement</p> +<p> Meynardie, Madame Scenes from a Courtesan's Life</p> +<p> Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de Father Goriot Eugenie Grandet Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris The Commission + in Lunacy Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Modeste Mignon The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman A Daughter of Eve The Member for Arcis</p> +<p> Pamiers, Vidame de The Duchesse of Langeais Jealousies of a Country Town</p> +<p> Ronquerolles, Marquis de The Imaginary Mistress The Duchess of Langeais The + Girl with the Golden Eyes The Peasantry Ursule Mirouet A Woman of Thirty Another + Study of Woman The Member for Arcis</p> +<p> Serizy, Comtesse de A Start in Life The Duchesse of Langeais Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Another Study of Woman The + Imaginary Mistress</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Ferragus, by Honore de Balzac</p> +<pre>******This file should be named frrgs10h.htm or frrgs10h.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, frrgs11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, frrgs10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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