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+Project Gutenberg's The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 3 of 6, by Eugčne Sue
+
+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: The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 3 of 6
+
+Author: Eugčne Sue
+
+Illustrators: G. Mercier
+              Bicknell
+              Léon Poiteau
+              Adrian Marcel
+
+Release Date: September 22, 2010 [EBook #33802]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS, V.3 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Christine Aldridge and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(Stanford University, SUL Books in the Public Domain)
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.
+
+2. Passages in Gothic Bold are surrounded by +plus+ signs.
+
+3. Other transcription notes appear at the end of this e-text.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Took my head between his hands._
+Original Etching by Mercier.]
+
+
+
+
++The Mysteries of Paris.+
+
+
+  _ILLUSTRATED WITH ETCHINGS
+  BY MERCIER, BICKNELL, POITEAU,
+  AND ADRIAN MARCEL._
+
+                 _BY EUGENE SUE_
+
+
+      _IN SIX VOLUMES_
+        _VOLUME III._
+
+
+        _PRINTED FOR
+   FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO.
+           BOSTON_
+
+
+      +Edition de Luxe+
+
+_This edition is limited to one thousand copies,
+of which this is_
+
+          No.______
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+      CHAPTER                                             PAGE
+         I. THE TEMPLE                                      11
+        II. THE ARREST                                      52
+       III. JACQUES FERRAND                                108
+        IV. THE OFFICE                                     116
+         V. THE CLIENTS                                    137
+        VI. THE ANONYMOUS LETTER                           167
+       VII. REFLECTIONS                                    197
+      VIII. THE BACHELORS' BREAKFAST                       211
+        IX. ST. LAZARE                                     225
+         X. MONT SAINT-JEAN                                240
+        XI. LA LOUVE AND LA GOUALEUSE                      255
+       XII. THE PROTECTRESS                                285
+      XIII. THE FORCED FRIENDSHIP                          300
+       XIV. CECILY                                         313
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+                                                          PAGE
+      TOOK MY HEAD BETWEEN HIS HANDS             _Frontispiece_
+      DREW CAREFULLY OUT A SHEET OF PAPER                   35
+      MOREL FELL BACK ON THE STOOL                          83
+      HE WILL SCOLD YOU AWFULLY                            134
+      M. D'HARVILLE HAD BLOWN HIS BRAINS OUT               222
+      LA GOUALEUSE IN THE PRISON                           279
+
+
+
+
+THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE TEMPLE.
+
+
+To the deep snow which had fallen during the past night had succeeded a
+very sharp wind, so that the ordinarily muddy pavement was hard and dry,
+as Rigolette and Rodolph wended onwards to the immense and singular
+bazar called the Temple, the young girl leaning unceremoniously on the
+arm of her cavalier, who, on his part, appeared as much at his ease as
+though they had been old familiar friends.
+
+"What a funny old woman Madame Pipelet is!" observed the grisette to her
+companion; "and what very odd things she says!"
+
+"Well, I thought her remarks very striking, as well as appropriate."
+
+"Which of them, neighbour?"
+
+"Why, when she said 'Young people would be young people,' and '_Vive
+l'amour!_'"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well! I only mean to say those are precisely my sentiments."
+
+"Your sentiments?"
+
+"Yes, I should like nothing better than to pass my youth with you,
+taking '_Vive l'amour!_' for my motto."
+
+"I dare say, for certainly you are not hard to please."
+
+"Why, where would be the harm,--are we not near neighbours? Of course we
+are, or else I should not be seen walking out with you in this manner in
+broad day."
+
+"Then you allow me to hope--"
+
+"Hope what?"
+
+"That you will learn to love me."
+
+"Oh, bless you, I do love you already!"
+
+"Really?"
+
+"To be sure I do. Why, how can I help it? You are good and gay; though
+poor yourself, you have done all in your power by interesting rich
+people in the fate of the Morels; your appearance pleases me; and you
+have altogether a nice look, and a sort of air such as one is glad to
+find in a person we expect to go about with a great deal. So there, I
+think, are abundant reasons for my loving you."
+
+Then, suddenly breaking into loud fits of laughter, Rigolette abruptly
+exclaimed, "Look there, only look at that fat woman with the furred
+shoes! What does she remind you of? I'll tell you,--of a great sack
+being drawn along by two cats without tails!" and again she laughed
+merrily.
+
+"I would rather look at you, my pretty neighbour, than at all the fat
+old women or tailless cats in Europe. I am so delighted to find you
+already love me."
+
+"I only tell you the truth; if I disliked you, I should speak just as
+plainly. I cannot reproach myself with ever having deceived or flattered
+any one; but, if a person pleases me, I tell them so directly."
+
+Again interrupting the thread of her discourse, the grisette drew up
+suddenly before the windows of a shop, saying, "Oh, do pray only look at
+that pretty clock and those two handsome vases! I had already saved up
+three francs and a half, and had put it in my money-box, to buy such a
+set as that. In five or six years I might have been able to buy them."
+
+"Saved up, do you say? Then, I suppose, you earn--"
+
+"At least thirty sous a day,--sometimes forty; but I never reckon upon
+more than thirty, which is the more prudent; and I regulate all my
+expenses accordingly," said Rigolette, with an air as important as
+though she was settling the financial budget.
+
+"But with thirty sous a day, how do you manage to live?"
+
+"Oh, bless you! that is easily reckoned. Shall I tell you how I manage,
+neighbour? I fancy you are rather extravagant in your notions; so,
+perhaps, it may serve as a lesson for you."
+
+"Yes, pray do."
+
+"Well, then, thirty sous a day make five and forty francs a month, do
+they not?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, then, out of that I pay twelve francs for lodging; that leaves me
+twenty-three francs for food, etc."
+
+"Is it possible? Twenty-three francs for one month's food!"
+
+"Yes, really, all that! Certainly, for such a person as myself, it does
+seem an enormous sum; but then, you see, I deny myself nothing."
+
+"Oh, you little glutton!"
+
+"Ah! but then, remember, I include the food for both my birds in that
+sum."
+
+"Certainly it seems less exorbitant, when you come to reckon, for three
+than for one; but just tell me how you manage day by day, that I may
+profit by your good example."
+
+"Well, then, be attentive, and I will go over the different things I
+spend in it. First of all, one pound of bread, that costs four sous;
+then two sous' worth of milk make six; four sous' worth of vegetables in
+winter, or fruit and salad in summer,--I am very found of salad,
+because, like vegetables, it is such a nice clean thing to prepare, and
+does not soil the hands; there goes ten sous at once; then three sous
+for butter, or oil and vinegar, to season the salad with, that makes
+thirteen sous; a pail of nice fresh water,--oh, I must have that! it is
+my principal extravagance,--that brings it to fifteen sous, don't you
+see? Then add two or three sous a week for chickweed and seed for my
+birds, who generally have part of my bread and milk; all this comes to
+exactly twenty-three francs a month, neither more nor less."
+
+"And do you never eat meat?"
+
+"Meat, indeed! I should think not. Why, it costs from ten to twelve sous
+a pound! A likely thing for me to buy! Besides, there is all the
+nuisance and smell of cooking; instead of which, milk, vegetables, or
+fruit, are always ready when you wish for them. I tell you what is a
+favourite dish of mine, without being troublesome to prepare, and which
+I excel in making."
+
+"Oh, pray let me know what it is?"
+
+"Why, I get some beautiful ripe, rosy apples, and put them at the top of
+my little stove; when they are quite tender, I bruise them with a little
+milk, and just a taste of sugar. It is a dish for an emperor. If you
+behave well, I will let you taste it some day."
+
+"Prepared by your hands, it can scarcely fail being excellent; but let
+us keep to our reckoning. Let me see, we counted twenty-three francs for
+living, etc., and twelve francs for lodging; that makes thirty-five
+francs a month."
+
+"Well, then, out of the forty-five or fifty francs I earn, there remains
+from ten to fifteen francs a month for my wood and oil during the
+winter, as well as for my clothes and washing; that is to say, for soap
+and other requisites; because, excepting my sheets, I wash my own
+things; that is another of my extravagances,--a good laundress would
+pretty well ruin me; while, as I am a very quick and good ironer, the
+expense is principally that of my own time. During the five winter
+months I burn a load and a half of wood, while I consume about four or
+five sous' worth of oil for my lamp daily; that makes it cost me about
+eighty francs a year for fire and lights."
+
+"So that you have, in fact, scarcely one hundred francs to clothe
+yourself, and find you in pocket money."
+
+"No more; yet out of that sum I managed to save my three francs and a
+half."
+
+"But your gowns, your shoes,--this smart little cap?"
+
+"As for caps, I never wear one but when I go out, so that is not
+ruinous; and, at home, I go bareheaded. As for my gowns and boots, have
+I not got the Temple to go to for them?"
+
+"Ah, yes, this convenient, handy Temple! So you buy there?"
+
+"All sorts of pretty and excellent dresses. Why, only imagine, great
+ladies are accustomed to give their old, cast-off gowns, etc., to their
+maids. When I say old, I mean that, perhaps, they have worn them for a
+month or two, just to ride out in the carriage. Well, and then the
+ladies' maids sell them to the persons who have shops at the Temple for
+almost nothing. Just look at the nice dark merino dress I have on; well,
+I only gave fourteen francs for it, when, I make no doubt, it cost at
+least sixty, and had scarcely been put on. I altered it to fit myself;
+and I flatter myself it does me credit."
+
+"Indeed, it does, and very great credit, too. Yes, I begin to see now,
+thanks to the Temple, you really may contrive to make a hundred francs a
+year suffice for your dress."
+
+"To be sure; why, I can buy in the summer sweet pretty gowns for five or
+six francs; boots, like these I have on, and almost new, for two or
+three francs a pair; just look at my boots. Now, would not any one say
+they had been made for me?" said Rigolette, suddenly stopping, and
+holding up one of her pretty little feet, really very nicely set off by
+the well-fitting boot she wore.
+
+"It is, indeed, a charming foot; but you must have some difficulty in
+getting fitted. However, I suppose, at the Temple, they keep shoes and
+boots of all sizes, from a woman's to a child's."
+
+"Ah, neighbour, I begin to find out what a terrible flatterer you are.
+However, after what I have told you, you must see now that a young girl,
+who is careful, and has only herself to keep, may manage to live
+respectably on thirty sous a day; to be sure, the four hundred and fifty
+francs I brought out of prison with me helped me on famously, for when
+people saw that I had my own furniture in my apartments, they felt more
+confidence in entrusting me with work to take home. I was some time,
+though, before I met with employment. Fortunately for me, I had kept by
+me as much money as enabled me to live three months without earning
+anything."
+
+"Shall I own to you that, under so gay and giddy a manner, I scarcely
+expected to hear so much sound sense as that uttered by your pretty
+mouth, my good neighbour?"
+
+"Ah! but let me tell you that, when one is all alone in the world, and
+has no wish to be under any obligation, it is quite necessary, as the
+proverb says, to mind how we build our nest, to take care of it when it
+is built."
+
+"And certainly yours is as charming a nest as the most fastidious bird
+could desire."
+
+"Yes, isn't it? for, as I say, I never refuse myself anything. Now, I
+consider my chamber as above my means; in fact, too handsome for one
+like me; then I have two birds; always, at least, two pots of flowers on
+my mantelpiece, without reckoning those on the window-ledges; and yet,
+as I told you, I had actually got three francs and a half in my
+money-box, towards the ornaments I hoped some day to be able to buy for
+my mantelpiece."
+
+"And what became of this store?"
+
+"Oh, why, lately, when I saw the poor Morels so very, very wretched, I
+said to myself, 'What is the use of hoarding up these stupid pieces of
+money, and letting them lie idle in a money-box, when good and honest
+people are actually starving for want of them?' So I took out the three
+francs, and lent them to Morel. When I say lent, I mean I told him I
+only lent them, to spare his feelings; but, of course, I never meant to
+have them back again."
+
+"Yes, but my dear neighbour, you cannot refuse to let them repay you,
+now they are so differently situated."
+
+"Why, no; I think if Morel were to offer them to me now, I should not
+refuse them; it will, at any rate, enable me to begin my store for
+buying the chimney ornaments I do so long to possess. You would scarcely
+believe how silly I am; but I almost dream of a beautiful clock, such a
+one as I showed you just now, and two lovely vases, one on each side."
+
+"But, then, you should think a little of the future."
+
+"What future?"
+
+"Suppose you were to be ill, for instance."
+
+"Me ill? Oh, the idea!" And the fresh, hearty laugh of Rigolette
+resounded through the street.
+
+"Well, why should you not be?"
+
+"Do I look like a person likely to be sick?"
+
+"Certainly I never saw a more bright or blooming countenance."
+
+"Well, then, what could possibly have put it into your head to talk such
+nonsense as to suppose I could ever be ill?"
+
+"Nay, but--"
+
+"Why, I am only eighteen years of age, and, considering the sort of life
+I lead, there is no chance of such a thing. I rise at five o'clock,
+winter or summer; I am never up after ten, or, at latest, eleven; I eat
+sufficient to satisfy my appetite, which certainly is not a very great
+one; I do not suffer from exposure to cold; I work all day, singing as
+merrily as a lark; and at night I sleep like a dormouse. My heart is
+free, light, and happy. My employers are so well satisfied with what I
+do for them, that I am quite sure not to want for work; so what is there
+for me to be ill about? It really is too amusing to hear you try to talk
+sense, and only utter nonsense! Me ill!" And, at the very absurdity of
+the idea, Rigolette again burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, so
+loud and prolonged that a stout gentleman who was walking before her,
+carrying a dog under his arm, turned around quite angrily, believing all
+this mirth was excited by his presence.
+
+Resuming her composure, Rigolette slightly curtseyed to the stout
+individual, and pointing to the animal under his arm, said:
+
+"Is your dog so very tired, sir?"
+
+The fat man grumbled out some indistinct reply, and continued on his
+way.
+
+"My dear neighbour," said Rodolph, "are you losing your senses?"
+
+"It is your fault if I am."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Because you talk such nonsense to me."
+
+"Do you call my saying that perhaps you might be ill, talking
+foolishly?"
+
+And, once more overcome by the irresistible mirth awakened by the
+absurdity of Rodolph's suggestion, Rigolette again relapsed into long
+and hearty fits of laughter; while Rodolph, deeply struck by this blind,
+yet happy reliance upon the future, felt angry with himself for having
+tried to shake it, though he almost shuddered as he pictured to himself
+the havoc a single month's illness would make in this peaceful mode of
+life. Then the implicit reliance entertained by Rigolette on the
+stability of her employ, and her youthful courage, her sole treasures,
+struck Rodolph as breathing the very essence of pure and contented
+innocence; for the confidence expressed by the young dressmaker arose
+neither from recklessness nor improvidence, but from an instinctive
+dependence and belief in that divine justice which would never forsake a
+virtuous and industrious creature,--a simple girl, whose greatest crime
+was in relying too confidently on the blessed gifts of youth and health,
+the precious boon of a heavenly benefactor. Do the birds of the air
+remember, as they flit on gay and agile wing amidst the blue skies of
+summer, or skim lightly over the sweet-smelling fields of blooming
+lucerne, that bleak, cold winter must follow so much enjoyment?
+
+"Then," said Rodolph to the grisette, "it seems you have no wish for
+anything more than you already possess?"
+
+"No, really I have not."
+
+"Positively, nothing you desire?"
+
+"No, I tell you. Stay, yes, now I recollect, there are those sweet
+pretty chimney ornaments; but I shall be sure to have them some of these
+days, though I do not know exactly when; but still, they do so run in my
+head, that, sooner than be disappointed, I will sit up all night to
+work."
+
+"And besides these ornaments?"
+
+"Oh, nothing more; no, I cannot recollect any one other thing I care for
+more especially now."
+
+"Why now, particularly?"
+
+"Because, yesterday, if you had asked me the same question, I should
+have replied, there was nothing I wanted more than an agreeable
+neighbour in your apartments, to give me an opportunity of showing all
+the little acts of kindness I have been accustomed to perform, and to
+receive nice little attentions in return."
+
+"Well, but you know, my dear neighbour, we have already entered into an
+agreement to be mutually serviceable to each other; you will look after
+my linen for me, and I shall clean up and polish your chamber for you;
+and besides attending to my linen, you are to wake me every morning
+early by tapping against the wainscot."
+
+"And do you think you have named all I shall expect you to do?"
+
+"What else can I do?"
+
+"Oh, bless you, you have not yet come to the end of your services! Why,
+do you not intend to take me out every Sunday, either to the Boulevards
+or beyond the barriers? You know that is the only day I can enjoy a
+little pleasure."
+
+"To be sure I do; and when summer comes we will go into the country."
+
+"No, no, I hate the country! I cannot bear to be anywhere but in Paris.
+Yet I used, once upon a time, to go, out of good nature, with a young
+friend of mine, who was with me in prison, to visit Meudon and St.
+Germain. My friend was a very nice, good girl, and because she had such
+a sweet voice, and was always singing, people used to call her the
+Goualeuse."
+
+"And what has become of her?"
+
+"I don't know. She spent all the money she brought with her out of
+prison, without seeming to have much pleasure for it; she was inclined
+to be mournful and serious, though kind and sympathising to every one.
+At the time we used to go out together I had not met with any work to
+do, but directly I procured employment, I never allowed myself a
+holiday. I gave her my address, but, as she never came to see me, I
+suppose she, like myself, was too busy to spare the time. But I dare say
+you don't care to hear any more about her; I only mentioned it because I
+wanted to show you that it is no use asking me to go into the country
+with you, for I never did, and never will go there, except with the
+young friend I was telling you about; but whenever you can afford to
+take me out to dinner or to the play, I shall be quite ready to
+accompany you, and when it does not suit you to spend the money, or when
+you have none to spend, why then we will take a walk, and have a good
+look at the shops, which is almost the nicest thing I know, unless it is
+buying at them. And I promise you, you shall have no reason to feel
+ashamed of my appearance, let us go out among ever such company. Oh,
+when I wear my dark blue levantine silk gown, I flatter myself I _do_
+look like somebody! It is such a love of a dress, and fits me so
+beautifully! I never wear it but on Sundays, and then I put on such a
+love of a lace cap, trimmed with shaded orange-colour riband, which
+looks so well with dark hair like mine; then I have some such elegant
+boots of satin hue, made for me, not bought at the Temple! And last of
+all comes such a shawl! Oh, neighbour, I doubt if you ever walked with
+any one in such perfect beauty; it is a real _bourre-de-soie_, in
+imitation of cashmere. I quite expect we shall be stared at and admired
+by every one as we go along; the men will look back as they pass me, and
+say, 'Upon my word that's an uncommon pretty-looking girl,--she is, 'pon
+honour!' Then the women will cry, 'What a stylish-looking man! Do you
+see that tall, thin person? I declare, he has such a fashionable
+appearance that he might pass as somebody if he liked; what a becoming
+and handsome moustachio he has!' And between ourselves, neighbour, I
+quite agree with these remarks, and especially about the moustachio, for
+I dearly love to see a man wear them. Unfortunately M. Germain did not
+wear a moustachio, on account of the situation he held; I believe his
+employer did not permit his young men to wear them. To be sure, M.
+Cabrion did wear moustachios, but then, his were quite red, like his
+great bushy beard, and I hate those huge beards; and besides, I did not
+like Cabrion for two other reasons; one was, he used to play all kinds
+of scampish tricks out in the street, and the other thing I disliked
+was his tormenting poor old Pipelet as he did. Certainly, M. Giraudeau,
+the person who lived next to me before M. Cabrion, was rather a
+smart-looking man, and dressed very well; but then he squinted, and at
+first that used to put me out very much, because he always seemed to be
+looking past me at some one by my side, and I always found myself,
+without thinking of it, turning around to see who it could be."
+
+And here Rigolette indulged in another peal of merry laughter.
+
+As Rodolph listened to all this childish and voluble talk, he felt
+almost at a loss how to estimate the pretensions of the grisette to be
+considered of first-rate prudence and virtue; sometimes the very absence
+of all reserve in her communications, and the recollection of the great
+bolt on her door, made him conclude that she bore a general and platonic
+affection only for every occupant of the chamber adjoining her own, and
+that her interest in them was nothing more than that of a sister; but
+again he smiled at the credulity which could believe such a thing
+possible, when the unprotected condition of the young dressmaker, and
+the fascinations of Messrs. Giraudeau, Cabrion, and Germain were taken
+into account. Still, the frankness and originality of Rigolette made him
+pause in the midst of his doubts, and refuse to allow him to judge
+harshly of the ingenuous and light-hearted being who tripped beside him.
+
+"I am delighted at the way you have disposed of my Sundays," said
+Rodolph, gaily. "I see plainly we shall have some capital treats."
+
+"Stop a little, Mr. Extravagance, and let me tell you how I mean to
+regulate our expenses; in the summer we can dine beautifully, either at
+the Chartreuse or the Montmartre hermitage, for three francs, then half
+a dozen quadrilles or waltzes, and a ride upon the wooden horses,--oh, I
+do so love riding on horseback!--well, that will bring it altogether to
+about five francs, not a farthing more, I assure you. Do you waltz?"
+
+"Yes, very well."
+
+"I am glad of that. M. Cabrion always trod on my toes, so that he quite
+put me out; and then, too, by way of a joke, he used to throw
+fulminating balls about on the ground; so at last the people at the
+Chartreuse would not allow us to be admitted there."
+
+"Oh, I promise you to be very well behaved whenever we are met together;
+and as for the fulminating balls, I promise you never to have anything
+to do with them; but when winter comes, how shall we manage then?"
+
+"Why, in the winter we shall be able to dine very comfortably for forty
+sous. I think people never care so much for eating in the winter as
+summer; so then we shall have three francs left to pay for our going to
+the play, for I shall not allow you to exceed a hundred sous for the
+whole of our expenses, and that is a great deal of money to spend in
+pleasure; but then, if you were out alone, it would cost you much more
+at the tavern or billiard-rooms, where you would only meet a parcel of
+low, ignorant men, smelling of tobacco enough to choke you. Is it not
+much better for you to pass a pleasant day with a nice little, cheerful,
+good-tempered companion, who, in return for the holiday you so agreeably
+pass with her, will contrive to make up the extra expense she costs you
+by hemming your handkerchiefs, and looking after your domestic affairs?"
+
+"Nothing can be more advantageous, as far as I am concerned; but suppose
+any of my friends should meet me walking with my pretty neighbour, what
+then?"
+
+"What then! Why, they would just look at you, and then at me; and then
+they would smile and say, 'That's a lucky fellow, that Rodolph!'"
+
+"You know my name, do you?"
+
+"Why, of course, when I heard that the chamber adjoining mine was let,
+I inquired the name of the person who had taken it."
+
+"Yes, I dare say every one who met us out together would remark, as you
+observe, what a lucky fellow I was; then the next thing would be to envy
+me."
+
+"So much the better."
+
+"They would believe I was perfectly happy."
+
+"Of course, of course they would."
+
+"All the while I should only be so in appearance."
+
+"Well, what does that signify? As long as people think you happy, what
+does it matter whether you are really so or not? Men neither require nor
+care for more than outward show."
+
+"But your reputation might suffer."
+
+Rigolette burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
+
+"The reputation of a grisette!" said she. "Do you suppose that any
+person believes in such a phenomenon? Ah, if I had either father,
+mother, brother, or sister, for their sakes I should fear what people
+might say of me, and be anxious about the world's opinion; but I am
+alone in the world, and have no person to consider but myself, so, while
+I know myself to be free from blame or reproach, I care not for what any
+one may say of me, or think either."
+
+"But still I should be very unhappy."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To pass for being a happy as well as a lucky fellow, when, after the
+fashion of Papa Crétu's dinner, I should be expected to make a meal off
+a dry crust, while all the tempting dishes contained in a cookery-book
+were being read to me."
+
+"Oh, nonsense! you will be quite contented to live as I describe. You
+will find me so grateful for every little act of kindness, so easily
+pleased, and so little troublesome, that I know you will say, 'Why,
+after all, I may as well spend my Sunday with her as with any one else.'
+If you have any time in the evening, and have no objection to come and
+sit with me, you can have the use of my fire and light. If it would not
+tire you to read aloud, you would amuse me by reading some nice novel or
+romance. Better do that than lose your money at cards or billiards;
+otherwise, if you are occupied at your office, or prefer going to a
+café, you can just bid me good night when you come in, if I happen still
+to be up; but should I have gone to bed, why then I will wish you good
+morning at an early hour next day, by tapping against your wainscot to
+awaken you. Why, M. Germain, my last fellow lodger, used to pass all his
+evenings with me in that manner, and never complained of their being
+dull. He read me all Walter Scott's novels in the course of the winter,
+which was really very amusing. Sometimes, when it chanced to be a wet
+Sunday, he would go and buy something at the pastry-cook's, and we used
+to have a nice little dinner in my room; and afterwards we amused
+ourselves with reading; and we liked that almost as well as going to the
+theatre. You see by this that I am not hard to please, but, on the
+contrary, am always ready to do what I can to make things pleasant and
+agreeable. And then you were talking about illness. Oh, if ever you
+should be ill, then, indeed, I should be a comfort to you, a real Sister
+of Charity! Only ask the Morels what sort of a nurse I am. You don't
+half know your own good fortune, M. Rodolph; you have drawn a real prize
+in the lottery of good luck to have me for a neighbour, I can assure
+you."
+
+"I quite agree with you; but I always was lucky. Apropos of your late
+fellow lodger, M. Germain, where is he at present?"
+
+"In Paris, I believe."
+
+"Then you do not see much of him now?"
+
+"No, he has never been to see me since he quitted the house."
+
+"But where is he living? And what is he doing at present?"
+
+"Why do you want to know?"
+
+"Because," said Rodolph, smiling, "I am jealous of him, and I wish--"
+
+"Jealous!" exclaimed Rigolette, bursting into a fit of laughter. "La,
+bless you, there is no occasion for that, poor fellow!"
+
+"But, seriously, my good neighbour, I wish most particularly to obtain
+M. Germain's address, or to be enabled to meet him. You know where he
+lives; and without any boast, I think I have good reason to expect you
+would trust me with the secret of his residence, and to believe me quite
+incapable of revealing again the information I ask of you, assuring you
+most solemnly it is for his own interest more than mine I am solicitous
+of finding him."
+
+"And seriously, my good neighbour, although it is probable and possible
+your intentions towards M. Germain are as you report them, I am not at
+liberty to give you the address of M. Germain, he having strictly and
+expressly forbidden my so doing to any person whatever; therefore, when
+I refuse to tell _you_, you may be quite sure it is because I really am
+not at liberty to do so; and that ought not to make you feel offended
+with me. If you had entrusted me with a secret, you would be pleased,
+would you not, to have me as careful of it, and determined not to reveal
+it, as I am about M. Germain's affair?"
+
+"Nay, but--"
+
+"Neighbour, once and for all, do not say anything more on this subject.
+I have made a promise which I will keep faithfully and honourably; so
+now you know my mind, and if you ask me a hundred times, I shall answer
+you just the same."
+
+Spite of her thoughtlessness and frivolity, the young dressmaker
+pronounced these last words with so much firmness that, to his great
+regret, Rodolph perceived the impossibility of gaining the desired
+information respecting Germain through her means; and his mind revolted
+at the idea of laying any snare to entrap her into a betrayal of her
+secret; he therefore, after a slight pause, gaily replied:
+
+"Well, let us say no more about it, then; but, upon my life, I don't
+wonder at you, who can so well keep the secrets of others, guarding your
+own so closely."
+
+"Me have secrets?" cried Rigolette. "I only wish I had some more secrets
+of my own; it must be very amusing to have secrets."
+
+"Do you really mean to assert that you have not a 'nice little secret'
+about some love-affair?"
+
+"Love-affair!"
+
+"Are you going to persuade me you have never been in love?" said
+Rodolph, looking fixedly at Rigolette, the better to read the truth in
+her telltale features.
+
+"Been in love? Why, of course I have, with M. Giraudeau, M. Cabrion, M.
+Germain, and you!"
+
+"Are you sure you loved them just as you do me, neither more nor less?"
+
+"Oh, really, I cannot tell you so very exactly! If anything, I should
+say less; because I had to become accustomed to the squinting eyes of M.
+Giraudeau, the disagreeable jokes and red beard of M. Cabrion, and the
+low spirits and constant dejection of M. Germain, for the poor young man
+was very sad, and always seemed to have a heavy load on his mind, while
+you, on the contrary, took my fancy directly I saw you."
+
+"Come now, my pretty neighbour, you must not be angry with me; I am
+going to speak candidly and sincerely, like an old friend."
+
+"Oh, don't be afraid to say anything to me; I am very good-natured; and
+besides, I feel certain you are too kind; you could never have the heart
+to say anything to me that would give me pain."
+
+"You are quite right; but do tell me truly, have you never had any
+lovers?"
+
+"Lovers! I should think not! What time have I for such things?"
+
+"What has time got to do with it?"
+
+"Why, everything, to be sure. In the first place, I should be jealous as
+a tigress; and I should be continually worrying myself with one idea or
+another; and let me ask you whether you think it is likely I could
+afford to lose two or three hours a day in fretting and grieving. And
+then, suppose my lover were to turn out false! Oh, what tears it would
+cost me; how wretched I should be! All that sort of thing would put me
+sadly behindhand with my work, I can tell you."
+
+"Well, but all lovers are not faithless and a cause of grief and sorrow
+to their mistress."
+
+"Oh, bless you! It would be still worse for me, if he were all goodness
+and truth. Why, then I should not be able to live without him for a
+single hour; and as most probably he would be obliged to remain all day
+in his office, or shop, or manufactory, I should be like some poor,
+restless spirit all the time of his absence. I should imagine all sorts
+of things, picture to myself his being at that moment pleasantly engaged
+in company with one he loved better than myself. And then, if he forsook
+me, oh, Heaven only knows what I might be tempted to do in my despair,
+or what might become of me. One thing is very certain, that my work
+would suffer for it; and then what should I do? Why, quietly as I live
+at present, it is much as I can manage to live by working from twelve to
+fifteen hours a day. Where should I be, if I were to lose three or four
+days a week by tormenting myself? How could I ever catch up all that
+time? Oh, I never could; it would be quite impossible! I should be
+obliged, then, to take a situation, to live under the control of a
+mistress; but no, no, I will never bring myself to that,--I love my
+liberty too well."
+
+"Your liberty?"
+
+"Yes, I might go as forewoman to the person who keeps the warehouse for
+which I work; she would give me four hundred francs a year, with board
+and lodging."
+
+"And you will not accept it?"
+
+"No, indeed! I should then be the slave and servant of another; whereas,
+however humble my home, at least there is no one there to control me. I
+am free to come and go as I please. I owe nothing to any one. I have
+good health, good courage, good heart, and good spirits; and now that I
+can say a good neighbour also, what is there left to desire?"
+
+"Then you have never thought of marriage?"
+
+"Marriage, indeed! Why, what would be the use of my thinking about it,
+when, poor as I am, I could not expect to meet with a husband better off
+than myself? Look at the poor Morels; just see the consequences of
+burthening yourself with a family before you have the means of providing
+for one; whilst, so long as there is only oneself to provide for, one
+can always manage somehow."
+
+"And do you never build castles in the air?--never dream?"
+
+"Dream? Oh, yes!--of my chimney ornaments; but, besides them, what can I
+have to wish for?"
+
+"But, suppose now some relation you never heard of in your life were to
+die, and leave you a nice little fortune--twelve hundred francs a year,
+for instance--you have made five hundred sufficient to supply all your
+wants?"
+
+"Perhaps it might prove a good thing; perhaps a bad one."
+
+"How could it be a bad one?"
+
+"Because I am happy and contented as I am; but I do not know what I
+might be if I came to be rich. I can assure you that, when, after a hard
+day's work, I go to bed in my own snug little room, when my lamp is
+extinguished, and by the glimmer of the few cinders left in my stove I
+see my neat, clean little apartment, my curtains, my chest of drawers,
+my chairs, my birds, my watch, my table covered with the work confided
+to me, left all ready to begin the first thing in the morning, and I say
+to myself, all this is mine,--I have no one to thank for it but
+myself,--oh, neighbour, the very thoughts lull me into such a happy
+state of mind that I fall asleep believing myself the most fortunate
+creature on earth to be so surrounded with comforts. But, I declare,
+here we are at the Temple! You must own it is a beautiful object?"
+
+Although not partaking of the profound admiration expressed by Rigolette
+at the first glimpse of the Temple, Rodolph was, nevertheless, much
+struck by the singular appearance of this enormous bazar with its many
+diverging passages and dependencies. Towards the middle of the Rue du
+Temple, not far from the fountain which stands in the corner of a large
+square, may be seen an immense parallelogram, built of wood, and
+surmounted with a slated roof. This building is the Temple, bounded on
+the left by the Rue du Petit Thouars, and on the right by the Rue
+Percée; it leads to a large circular building,--a colossal rotunda,
+surrounded with a gallery, forming a sort of arcade. A long opening,
+intersecting this parallelogram in its length and breadth, divides it
+into two equal parts, which are again divided and subdivided into an
+infinity of small lateral and transverse openings, crossing each other
+in all directions, and sheltered by the roof of the building from all
+severity of weather. In this bazar new merchandise is generally
+prohibited; but the smallest fragment of any sort of material, the
+merest morsel of iron, brass, lead, or pewter, will here find both a
+buyer and a seller.
+
+Here are to be found dealers in pieces of every coloured cloth, of all
+ages, qualities, shades, and capabilities, for the service of such as
+wish to repair or alter damaged or ill-fitting garments. Some of the
+shops present huge piles of old shoes, some trodden down of heel,
+others twisted, torn, worn, split, and in holes, presenting a mass of
+nameless, formless, colourless objects, among which are grimly visible
+some species of fossil soles about an inch thick, studded with thick
+nails, resembling the door of a prison and hard as a horse's hoof, the
+actual skeletons of shoes whose other component parts have long since
+been consumed by the devouring hand of Time. Yet all this mouldy, dried
+up accumulation of decaying rubbish will find a willing purchaser, an
+extensive body of merchants trading in this particular line.
+
+Then there are the vendors of gimps, fringes, bindings, cords, tassels,
+and edgings of silk, cotton, or thread, arising out of the demolition of
+curtains past all cure and defying all reparation. Other enterprising
+individuals devote themselves to the sale of females' hats and bonnets,
+these articles only reaching their emporium by the means of the dealers
+in old clothes, and after having performed the strangest journeys and
+undergone the most surprising transformations, the most singular changes
+of colour.
+
+In order that the article traded in may not take up too much room in a
+warehouse ordinarily the size of a large box, these bonnets are
+carefully folded in half, then flattened and laid upon each other as
+closely as they can be packed, with the exception of the brim. They are
+treated in every respect the same as herrings, requiring to be stowed in
+a cask. By these means it is almost incredible what a quantity of these
+usually fragile articles may be accommodated in a small space of about
+four feet square.
+
+Should a purchaser present himself, the various specimens are removed
+from the high pressure to which they have been exposed, the vendor, with
+a _dégagé_ air, gives the crown a dexterous blow with his fist, which
+makes the centre rise to its accustomed situation, then presses the
+front out upon his knee, concluding by holding up, with an air of
+intense satisfaction at his own ingenuity, an object so wild, so
+whimsical, and withal so irresistibly striking, as to remind one of
+those traditional costumes ascribed for ages past to fishwomen,
+apple-women, or any whose avocation involves the necessity of carrying a
+basket on the head.
+
+Farther on, at the sign of the Goűt du Jour, beneath the arcades of the
+Rotunda, elevated at the end of the large opening which intersects the
+Temple and divides it into two parts, are suspended myriads of vestments
+of all colours, forms, and fashions, even more various and extraordinary
+in their respective styles than the bonnets just described. There may be
+seen stylish coats of unbleached linen, adorned with three rows of brass
+buttons _ŕ la hussarde_, and sprucely ornamented with a small fur collar
+of fox-skin; great-coats, originally bottle-green, but changed, by age
+and service, to the hue of the pistachio nut, edged with black braid,
+and set off with a bright flaming lining of blue and yellow plaid,
+giving quite a fresh and youthful appearance, and producing the most
+genteel and tasty effect; coats that, when new, bore the appellation, as
+regards their cut, of being _ŕ queue de Morue_, of a dark drab colour,
+with velvet, shag, or plush collar, and further decorated with buttons,
+once silver-gilt, but now changed to a dull coppery hue. In the same
+emporium may be observed sundry pelisses or polonaises of
+maroon-coloured cloth, with cat-skin collar, trimmed with braiding, and
+rich in brandenburgs, tassels, and cords. Not far from these are
+displayed a great choice of dressing-gowns most artistically constructed
+out of old cloaks, whose triple collars and capes have been removed, the
+inside lined with remnants of printed cotton, the most in request being
+blue or dark green, made up here and there with pieces of various
+distinct shades, and embroidered with old braid, and lined with red
+cotton, on which is traced a flowing design in vivid orange, collar and
+cuffs similarly adorned; a cord for the waist, made out of an old
+bell-rope, serves as a finish to these elegant _déshabillés_ so
+exultingly worn by Robert Macaire. We shall briefly pass over a mass of
+costumes more or less uncouth, in the midst of which may be found some
+real and authentic relics of royalty or greatness, dragged by the
+revolution of time from the palaces of the rich and mighty to the dingy
+shelves of the Rotunda of the Temple.
+
+These displays of old shoes, hats, and coats are the grotesque parts of
+the bazar,--the place where rags and faded finery seek to set up their
+claim to notice. But it must be allowed, or rather distinctly asserted,
+that the vast establishment we are describing is of immense utility to
+the poor or persons in mediocre circumstances. There they may purchase,
+at an amazing decrease of price, most excellent articles, nearly new,
+and whose wear has been little or none. One side of the Temple was
+devoted to articles of bedding, and contained piles of blankets, sheets,
+mattresses, and pillows. Farther on were carpets, curtains, every
+description of useful household utensil. Close at hand were stores of
+wearing apparel, shoes, stockings, caps, and bonnets, for all ages, as
+well as all classes and conditions.
+
+All these articles were scrupulously clean and devoid of anything that
+could offend or shock the most fastidious person. Those who have never
+visited this bazar will scarcely credit in how short a space of time,
+and with how little money, a cart may be filled with every requisite for
+the complete fitting out of two or three utterly destitute families.
+
+Rodolph was particularly struck with the manner, at once attentive,
+eager, and cheerful, of the various dealers, as, standing at the door of
+their shops, they solicited the patronage and custom of the passers-by.
+Their mode of address, at once familiar and respectful, seemed
+altogether unlike the tone of the present day. Scarcely had Rigolette
+and her companion entered that part of the place devoted to the sale of
+bedding, than they were surrounded by the most seducing offers and
+solicitations.
+
+"Walk in, sir, and look at my mattresses, if you please," said one.
+"They are quite new. I will just open a corner to show you how
+beautifully white and soft the wool is,--more like the wool of a lamb
+than a sheep."
+
+"My pretty lady, step in and see my beautiful, fine white sheets. They
+are better than new, for the first stiffness has been taken out of them.
+They are soft as a glove, and strong as iron."
+
+"Come, my new-married couple, treat yourselves to one of my handsome
+counterpanes. Only see how soft, light, and warm it is,--quite as good
+as eider-down,--every bit the same as new,--never been used twenty
+times. Now, then, my good lady, persuade your husband to treat you to
+one. Let me have the pleasure of serving you, and I will fit you up for
+housekeeping as cheaply as you can desire. Oh, you'll be pleased, I
+know,--you'll come again to see Mother Bouvard! You will find I keep
+everything. I bought a splendid lot of second-hand goods yesterday. Pray
+walk in and let me have the pleasure of showing them to you. Come, you
+may as well see if you don't buy. I shall charge you nothing for looking
+at them."
+
+"I tell you what, neighbour," said Rodolph to Rigolette, "this fat old
+lady shall have the preference. She takes us for husband and wife. I am
+so pleased with her for the idea that I decide upon laying out my money
+at her shop."
+
+"Well, then, let it be the fat old lady," said Rigolette. "I like her
+appearance, too."
+
+Rigolette and her companion then went into Mother Bouvard's. By a
+magnanimity, perhaps unexampled before in the Temple, the rivals of
+Mother Bouvard made no disturbance at the preference awarded to her. One
+of her neighbours, indeed, went so far as to say:
+
+[Illustration: _Drew carefully out a sheet of paper._
+Original Etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+"So long as it is Mother Bouvard, and no one else, that has this
+customer; she has a family, and is the dowager and the honour of the
+Temple."
+
+It was, indeed, impossible to have a face more prepossessing, more open,
+and more frank than that of the dowager of the Temple.
+
+"Here, my pretty little woman," she said to Rigolette, who was looking
+at sundry articles with the eye of a connoisseur, "this is the
+second-hand bargain I told you of: two bed furnitures and bedding
+complete, and as good as new. If you would like a small old _secrétaire_
+very cheap, here is one (and Mother Bouvard pointed to one). I had it in
+the same lot. I do not usually buy furniture, but I could not refuse
+this, for the poor people of whom I had it appeared to be so very
+unhappy! Poor lady! it was the sale of this piece of furniture which
+seemed to cut her to the very heart. I dare say it was a family piece of
+'furniture.'"
+
+At these words, and whilst the shopkeeper was settling with Rigolette as
+to the prices of the various articles of purchase, Rodolph was
+attentively looking at the _secrétaire_ which Mother Bouvard had pointed
+out. It was one of those ancient pieces of rosewood furniture, almost
+triangular in shape, closed by a front panel, which let down, and,
+supported by two long brass hinges, served for a writing-table. In the
+centre of this panel, which was inlaid with ornaments of wood of
+different patterns, Rodolph observed a cipher let in, of ebony, and
+which consisted of an M. and an R., intertwined and surmounted with a
+count's coronet. He conjectured, therefore, that the last possessor of
+this piece of furniture was a person in an elevated rank of society. His
+curiosity increased, and he looked at the _secrétaire_ with redoubled
+scrutiny; he opened the drawers mechanically, one after the other, when,
+having some difficulty in drawing out the last, and trying to discover
+the obstacle, he perceived, and drew carefully out, a sheet of paper,
+half shut up between the drawer and the bottom of the opening. Whilst
+Rigolette was concluding her bargain with Mother Bouvard, Rodolph was
+engrossed in examining what he had found. From the numerous erasures
+which covered this paper, he perceived that it was the copy of an
+unfinished letter. Rodolph, with considerable difficulty, made out what
+follows:
+
+      "SIR: Be assured that the most extreme misery alone could compel
+    me to the step which I now take. It is not mistaken pride which
+    causes my scruples, but the absolute want of any and every claim
+    on you for the service which I am about to ask. The sight of my
+    daughter, reduced, as well as myself, to the most frightful
+    destitution, has made me throw aside all hesitation. A few words
+    only as to the cause of the misfortunes which have overwhelmed
+    me. After the death of my husband, all my fortune was three
+    hundred thousand francs (12,000_l._), which was placed by my
+    brother with M. Jacques Ferrand, the notary; I received at
+    Angers, whither I had settled with my daughter, the interest of
+    this sum, remitted to me by my brother. You know, sir, the
+    horrible event which put an end to his days. Ruined, as it
+    seems, by secret and unfortunate speculations, he put an end to
+    his existence eight months since. After this sad event, I
+    received a few lines, written by him in desperation before this
+    awful deed. 'When I should peruse them,' he wrote, 'he should no
+    longer exist.' He terminated this letter by informing me that he
+    had not any acknowledgment of the sum which he had placed, in my
+    name, with M. Jacques Ferrand, as that individual never gave any
+    receipt, but was honour and piety itself; that, therefore, it
+    would be sufficient for me to present myself to that gentleman,
+    and my business would be regularly and satisfactorily adjusted.
+    As soon as I was able to turn my attention to anything besides
+    the mournful end of my poor brother, I came to Paris, where I
+    knew no one, sir, but yourself, and you only by the connection
+    that had subsisted between yourself and my husband. I have told
+    you that the sum deposited with M. Jacques Ferrand was my entire
+    fortune, and that my brother forwarded to me every six months
+    the interest which arose from that sum. More than a year had
+    elapsed since the last payment, and, consequently, I went to M.
+    Jacques Ferrand to ask the amount of him, as I was greatly in
+    want of it. Scarcely was I in his presence, than, without any
+    consideration of my grief, he accused my brother of having
+    borrowed two thousand francs of him, which he had lost by his
+    death, adding, that not only was suicide a crime before God and
+    man, but, also, that it was an act of robbery, of which he, M.
+    Jacques Ferrand, was the victim. I was indignant at such
+    language, for the remarkable probity of my poor brother was well
+    known; he had, it is true, unknown to me and his friends, lost
+    his fortune in hazardous speculations, but he had died with an
+    unspotted reputation, deeply regretted by all, and not leaving
+    any debt except to his notary. I replied to M. Ferrand, that I
+    authorised him at once to take the two thousand francs, which he
+    claimed from my brother, from the three hundred thousand francs
+    of mine, which had been deposited with him. At these words, he
+    looked at me with an air of utter astonishment, and asked me
+    what three hundred thousand francs I alluded to. 'To those which
+    my brother placed in your hands eighteen months ago, sir, and of
+    which I have, till now, received the interest paid by you
+    through my brother,' I replied, not comprehending his question.
+    The notary shrugged his shoulders, smiled disdainfully, as if my
+    words were not serious, and replied that, so far from depositing
+    any money with him, my brother had borrowed two thousand francs
+    from him.
+
+      "It is impossible for me to express to you my horror at this
+    reply. 'What, then, has become of this sum?' I exclaimed. 'My
+    daughter and myself have no other resource, and, if we are
+    deprived of that, nothing remains for us but complete
+    wretchedness. What will become of us?' 'I really don't know,'
+    replied the notary, coldly. 'It is most probable that your
+    brother, instead of placing this sum with me, as you say, has
+    used it in those unfortunate speculations in which, unknown to
+    any one, he was engaged.' 'It is false, sir!' I exclaimed. 'My
+    brother was honour itself, and, so far from despoiling me and my
+    daughter, he would have sacrificed himself for us. He would
+    never marry, in order that he might leave all he had to my
+    child.' 'Dare you to assert, madame, that I am capable of
+    denying a deposit confided in me?' inquired the notary, with
+    indignation, which seemed so honourable and sincere that I
+    replied, 'No, certainly not, sir; your reputation for probity is
+    well known; but yet I can never accuse my brother of so cruel an
+    abuse of confidence.' 'What are your proofs of this claim?'
+    inquired M. Ferrand. 'I have none, sir. Eighteen months since,
+    my brother, who undertook the management of my affairs, wrote to
+    me, saying, "I have an excellent opportunity of obtaining six
+    per cent.; send me your power of attorney to sell your stock, and
+    I will deposit the three hundred thousand francs, which I will
+    make up, with M. Jacques Ferrand, the notary." I sent the papers
+    which he asked for to my brother, and a few days afterwards he
+    informed me that the investment was made by you, and at the end
+    of six months he remitted to me the interest due.' 'At least,
+    then, you have some letters on this subject, madame?' 'No, sir;
+    they were only on family matters, and I did not preserve them.'
+    'Unfortunately, madame, I cannot do anything in this matter,'
+    replied the notary. 'If my honesty was not beyond all suspicion,
+    all attack, I should say to you, the courts of law are open to
+    you,--attack me; the judges will have to choose between the word
+    of an honourable man, who for thirty years has had the esteem of
+    worthy men, and the posthumous declaration of a man who, after
+    being ruined in most foolish undertakings, has found refuge only
+    in suicide. I say to you now, attack me, madame, if you dare,
+    and your brother's memory will be dishonoured! But I believe you
+    will have the good sense to resign yourself to a misfortune
+    which, no doubt, is very severe, but to which I am an entire
+    stranger.' 'But, sir, I am a mother! If my fortune is lost, my
+    daughter and I have nothing left but a small stock of furniture;
+    if that is sold, we have nothing left, sir,--nothing, but the
+    most frightful destitution staring us in the face.' 'You have
+    been cheated,--it is a misfortune, but I can do nothing in the
+    matter,' answered the notary. 'Once more, madame, your brother
+    has deceived you. If you doubt between his word and mine, attack
+    me; go to law, and the judges will decide.' I quitted the
+    notary's in the deepest despair. What could I do in this
+    extremity? I had no means of proving the validity of my claim; I
+    was convinced of the strict honour of my brother, and confounded
+    at the assertion of M. Ferrand, and having no person to whom I
+    could turn for advice (for you were travelling), and knowing
+    that I must have money to pay for legal opinions and advice, and
+    desiring to preserve the very little that I had left, I dared
+    not commence a suit at law. It was at this juncture--"
+
+This sketch of the letter ended here, for what followed was covered with
+ink erasures, which completely blotted out the lines. At the bottom of
+the page, and in the corner, Rodolph found this kind of memorandum:
+
+    "To write to the Duchesse de Lucenay, for M. de Saint-Remy."
+
+Rodolph remained deeply thoughtful after the perusal of this fragment of
+a letter, in which he had found two names whose connection struck him.
+Although the fresh infamy which appeared to accuse Jacques Ferrand was
+not proved, yet this man had proved himself so pitiless towards the
+unhappy Morel, had behaved so shamefully to Louise, his daughter, that
+the denial of a deposit, protected by certain impunity, on the part of
+such a wretch, appeared to him by no means improbable. This mother, who
+claimed a fortune which had disappeared so strangely, was, doubtless,
+used to a life of ease and comfort. Ruined by a sudden blow, and knowing
+no one in Paris, as the letter said, what must have been the existence
+of these two females, perhaps utterly destitute and alone in the midst
+of this vast metropolis!
+
+The prince had, as we know, promised sure occupation to madame, by
+giving her accidentally, and to employ her mind, a part to play in some
+future work of charity, being certain to find sure misery for her to
+curtail before his next meeting with that lady. He thought that,
+perhaps, chance might bring before him some unfortunate and worthy
+person, who would, as he trusted, interest the heart and imagination of
+Madame d'Harville. The sketch of the letter which he held in his hands,
+and the copy of which had, doubtless, never been sent to the person
+whose assistance was implored, evinced a high and resigned mind, which
+would revolt from an offer of alms. So, then, how many precautions, how
+many plans, how much delicacy, must be employed to conceal the source of
+such generous succour, or to make it accepted! And, then, how much
+address to introduce oneself to such a female, in order to judge if she
+really merited the interest which she seemed capable of inspiring!
+Rodolph foresaw in the development of this mysterious affair a multitude
+of new and touching emotions, which would singularly attract Madame
+d'Harville in the way he had previously proposed to her.
+
+"Well, husband," said Rigolette, gaily, to Rodolph, "what is there so
+interesting in that piece of paper, which you are reading there?"
+
+"My little wife," replied Rodolph, "you are very inquisitive; I will
+tell you by and by. Have you bought all you want?"
+
+"Yes; and your poor friends will be set up like kings. There is nothing
+to do now but to pay; Madame Bouvard has made every allowance, I must do
+her that credit."
+
+"My little wife, an idea occurs to me; whilst I am paying, suppose you
+go and choose the clothes for Madame Morel and her children? I confess
+my ignorance on the subject of such purchases. You can tell them to
+bring everything here, and then all the things will be together, and the
+poor people will have everything at once."
+
+"You are right, husband. Wait here, and I shall not be long; I know two
+shopkeepers here, where I am a regular customer, and I shall find in
+their shops all I require."
+
+And Rigolette went out, saying:
+
+"Madame Bouvard, take care of my husband, and do not flirt with him,
+mind, whilst I am gone."
+
+And then came the laugh, and away the merry maiden ran.
+
+"I must say, sir," said Mother Bouvard to Rodolph, "that you have a
+capital little manager there. _Peste!_ she knows how to make a bargain!
+And then she is so prettily behaved and pretty-looking! red and white,
+with those large, beautiful black eyes, and such hair!"
+
+"Is she not charming? and ain't I a happy husband, Madame Bouvard?"
+
+"As happy a husband as she is a wife, I am sure of that."
+
+"You are not mistaken. But tell me how much I owe you."
+
+"Your little lady would only give me three hundred and thirty francs for
+the whole; as true as heaven's above us, I only make fifteen francs by
+the bargain, for I did not try to get the things as cheaply as I might,
+for I hadn't the heart to bate 'em down; the people who sold 'em seemed
+so uncommon miserable!"
+
+"Really! Were they the same people that you bought this little
+_secrétaire_ of?"
+
+"Yes, sir; and it cuts my heart to think of it! Only imagine, the day
+before yesterday there came here a young and still pretty girl, but so
+pale and thin one could almost see through her; and you know that pains
+people that have any feeling at all. Although she was, as they say, neat
+as a new-made pin, her old threadbare black worsted shawl, her black
+stuff gown, which was also worn bare, her straw bonnet, in the month of
+January, for she was in mourning, all showed what we call great
+distress, for I am sure she was a real lady. At last, blushing up to the
+very eyes, she asked me if I would buy two beds and bedding complete,
+and a little old _secrétaire_. I said that, as I sold, of course I
+bought, and that if they would suit me I would have them, but that I
+must see the things. She then asked me to go with her to her apartment,
+not far off, on the other side of the Boulevards, in a house on the Quay
+of St. Martin's Canal. I left my niece in the shop, and followed the
+lady until we reached a smallish house at the bottom of a court; we went
+up to the fourth floor, and, the lady having knocked, the door was
+opened by a young girl about fourteen years of age, who was also in
+mourning, and equally pale and thin, but still very, very pretty, so
+much so that I was quite astonished."
+
+"Well, and this young girl?"
+
+"Was the daughter of the lady in mourning. Though it was very cold, yet
+a thin gown of black cotton with white spots, and a small, shabby
+mourning shawl, that was all she had on her."
+
+"And their rooms were wretched?"
+
+"Imagine, sir, two little rooms, very neat, but nearly empty, and so
+cold that I was almost froze; there was not a spark of fire in the
+grate, nor any appearance of there having been any for a very long time.
+All the furniture was two beds, two chairs, a chest of drawers, an old
+portmanteau, and the small _secrétaire_, and on the chest was a parcel,
+wrapped in a pocket-handkerchief. This small parcel was all the mother
+and child had left when their furniture was once sold. The landlord had
+taken the two bedsteads, the chairs, a trunk, and a table, for what was
+due to him, as the porter said, who had gone up-stairs with us. Then the
+lady begged me fairly to estimate the mattresses, sheets, curtains, and
+quilts; and, as I am an honest woman, sir, although it is my business to
+buy cheap and sell dear, yet, when I saw the poor young thing with her
+eyes full of tears, and her mother, who, in spite of her affected
+calmness, seemed to be weeping in her heart, I offered for the things
+fifteen francs more than they were worth to sell again, I swear I did; I
+agreed, too, just to oblige them, to take this small _secrétaire_,
+although it is not a sort of thing I ever deal in."
+
+"I will buy it of you, Madame Bouvard."
+
+"Will you though? So much the better, sir, for it is else likely to stay
+with me for some time; I took it, as I say, only to oblige the poor
+lady. I told her then what I would give for the things, and I expected
+that she would haggle a bit and ask me something more, I did. Then it
+was that I saw she was not one of the common; she was in downright
+misery, she was, and no mistake about it, I am sure! I says to her,
+'It's worth so much,' She answers me, and says, 'Very well; let us go
+back to your shop, and you can pay me there, for we shall not return
+here again to this house.' Then she says to her daughter, who was
+sitting on the trunk a-crying, 'Claire, take this bundle.' I remember
+her name, and I'm sure she called her Claire. Then the young lady got
+up, but, as she was crossing the room, as she came to the little
+_secrétaire_ she went down on her knees before it, and, dear heart! how
+the poor thing did sob! 'Courage, my dear child; remember some one sees
+you,' said her mother to her, in a low voice, but yet I heard her. You
+may tell, sir, they were poor, but very proud notwithstanding. When the
+lady gave me the key of the little _secrétaire_, I saw a tear in her red
+eyes, and it seemed as if her very heart bled at parting with this old
+piece of furniture; but she tried to keep up her courage, and not seem
+downcast before strangers. Then she told the porter that I should come
+and take away all that the landlord did not keep, and after that we came
+back here. The young lady gave her arm to her mother, and carried in her
+hand the small bundle, which contained all they possessed in the world.
+I handed them their three hundred and fifteen francs, and then I never
+saw them again."
+
+"But their name?"
+
+"I don't know; the lady sold me the things in the presence of the
+porter, and so I had no occasion to ask her name, for what she sold
+belonged to her."
+
+"But their new address?"
+
+"I don't know that either."
+
+"No doubt they know at their old lodging?"
+
+"No, sir; for, when I went back to get the things, the porter told me,
+speaking of the mother and daughter, 'that they were very quiet people,
+very respectable, and very unfortunate,--I hope no misfortune has
+happened to them! They appeared to be very calm and composed, but I am
+sure they were quite in despair.' 'And where are they gone now to
+lodge?' I asked. '_Ma foi_, I don't know!' was the answer; 'they left
+without telling me, and I am sure they will not return here.'"
+
+The hopes which Rodolph had entertained for a moment vanished; how could
+he go to work to discover these two unfortunate females, when all the
+trace he had of them was that the young daughter's name was Claire, and
+the fragment of a letter, of which we have already made mention, and at
+the bottom of which were these words:
+
+    "To write to Madame de Lucenay, for M. de Saint-Remy?"
+
+The only, and very remote chance of discovering the traces of these
+unfortunates was through Madame de Lucenay, who, fortunately, was on
+intimate terms with Madame d'Harville.
+
+"Here, ma'am, be so good as to take your money," said Rodolph to the
+shopkeeper, handing her a note for five hundred francs.
+
+"I will give you the change, sir. What is your address?"
+
+"Rue du Temple, No. 17."
+
+"Rue du Temple, No. 17; oh, very well, very well, I know it."
+
+"Have you ever been to that house?"
+
+"Often. First I bought the furniture of a woman there, who lent money on
+wages; it is not a very creditable business, to be sure, but that's no
+affair of mine,--she sells, I buy, and so that's settled. Another time,
+not six weeks ago, I went there again for the furniture of a young man,
+who lived on the fourth floor, and was moving away."
+
+"M. François Germain, perhaps?" said Rodolph.
+
+"Just so. Did you know him?"
+
+"Very well; and, unfortunately, he has not left his present address in
+the Rue du Temple, so I do not know where to find him. But where shall
+we find a cart to take the goods?"
+
+"As it is not far, a large truck will do, and old Jérome is close by, my
+regular commissionaire. If you wish to know the address of M. François
+Germain, I can help you."
+
+"What? Do you know where he lives?"
+
+"Not exactly, but I know where you may be sure to meet with him."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"At the notary's where he works."
+
+"At a notary's?"
+
+"Yes, who lives in the Rue du Sentier."
+
+"M. Jacques Ferrand?" exclaimed Rodolph.
+
+"Yes; and a very worthy man he is. There is a crucifix and some holy
+boxwood in his study; it looks just as if one was in a sacristy."
+
+"But how did you know that M. Germain worked at this notary's?"
+
+"Why, this way: this young man came to me to ask me to buy his little
+lot of furniture all of a lump. So that time, too, though rather out of
+my line, I bought all his kit, and brought it here, because he seemed a
+nice young fellow, and I had a pleasure in obliging him. Well, I bought
+him right clean out, and I paid him well; he was, no doubt, very well
+satisfied, for, a fortnight afterwards, he came again, to buy some bed
+furniture from me. A commissionaire, with a truck, went with him,
+everything was packed: well, but, at the moment he was going to pay me,
+lo and behold! he had forgotten his purse; but he looked so like an
+honest man that I said to him, 'Take the things with you,--never mind, I
+shall be passing your way, and will call for the money.' 'Very good,'
+says he; 'but I am never at home, so call to-morrow in the Rue du
+Sentier, at M. Jacques Ferrand's, the notary, where I am employed, and I
+will pay you.' I went next day, and he paid me; only, what was very odd
+to me was that he sold his things, and then, a fortnight afterwards, he
+buys others."
+
+Rodolph thought that he was able to account for this singular fact.
+Germain was desirous of destroying every trace from the wretches who
+were pursuing him: fearing, no doubt, that his removal might put them on
+the scent of his fresh abode, he had preferred, in order to avoid this
+danger, selling his goods, and afterwards buying others.
+
+The prince was overjoyed to think of the happiness in store for Madame
+Georges, who would thus, at length, see again that son so long and
+vainly sought.
+
+Rigolette now returned, with a joyful eye and smiling lips.
+
+"Well, did not I tell you so?" she exclaimed. "I am not deceived: we
+shall have spent six hundred and forty francs all together, and the
+Morels will be set up like princes. Here come the shopkeepers; are they
+not loaded? Nothing will now be wanting for the family; they will have
+everything requisite, even to a gridiron, two newly tinned saucepans,
+and a coffee-pot. I said to myself, since they are to have things done
+so grandly, let them be grand; and, with all that, I shall not have lost
+more than three hours. But come, neighbour, pay as quickly as you can,
+and let us be gone. It will soon be noon, and my needle must go at a
+famous rate to make up for this morning."
+
+Rodolph paid, and quitted the Temple with Rigolette.
+
+At the moment when the grisette and her companion were entering the
+passage, they were almost knocked over by Madame Pipelet, who was
+running out, frightened, troubled, and aghast.
+
+"Mercy on us!" said Rigolette, "what ails you, Madame Pipelet? Where are
+you running to in that manner?"
+
+"Is it you, Mlle. Rigolette?" exclaimed Anastasie; "it is Providence
+that sends you; help me to save the life of Alfred."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"The darling old duck has fainted. Have mercy on us! Run for me, and get
+me two sous' worth of absinthe at the dram-shop,--the strongest, mind;
+it is his remedy when he is indisposed in the pylorus,--that generally
+sets him up again. Be kind, and do not refuse me, I can then return to
+Alfred; I am all over in such a fluster."
+
+Rigolette let go Rodolph's arm, and ran quickly to the dram-shop.
+
+"But what has happened, Madame Pipelet?" inquired Rodolph, following the
+porteress into the lodge.
+
+"How can I tell, my worthy sir? I had gone out to the mayor's, to
+church, and the cook-shop, to save Alfred so much trotting about; I
+returned, and what should I see but the dear old cosset with his legs
+and arms all in the air! There, M. Rodolph," said Anastasie, opening the
+door of her dog-hole, "say if that is not enough to break one's heart!"
+
+Lamentable spectacle! With his bell-crowned hat still on his head, even
+further on than usual, for the ambiguous castor, pushed down, no doubt,
+by violence, to judge by a transverse gap, covered M. Pipelet's eyes,
+who was on his back on the ground at the foot of his bed. The fainting
+was over, and Alfred was beginning to make some slight gesticulations
+with his hands, as if he sought to repulse somebody or something, and
+then he tried to push off this troublesome visor, with which he had been
+bonneted.
+
+"He kicks,--that's a beautiful symptom! He comes to!" exclaimed the
+porteress, who, stooping down, bawled in his ears, "What's the matter
+with my Alfred? It's his 'Stasie who is with him. How goes it now?
+There's some absinthe coming, that will set you up." Then, assuming a
+falsetto voice of much endearment, she added: "What, did they abuse and
+assassinate him,--the dear old darling, the delight of his 'Stasie, eh?"
+
+Alfred heaved an immense sigh, and, with a mighty groan, uttered the
+fatal word:
+
+"Cabrion!"
+
+And his tremulous hands again seemed desirous of repulsing the fearful
+vision.
+
+"Cabrion! What, that cussed painter again?" exclaimed Madame Pipelet.
+"Alfred dreamed of him all night long, so that he kicked me almost to
+death. This monster is his nightmare; not only does he poison his days,
+but he poisons his nights also,--he pursues him in his very sleep; yes,
+sir, as though Alfred was a malefactor, and this Cabrion, whom may
+Heaven confound! was his unceasing remorse."
+
+Rodolph smiled, discreetly detecting some new freak of Rigolette's
+former neighbour.
+
+"Alfred! answer me; don't remain mute, you frighten me," said Madame
+Pipelet; "let's try and get you up. Why, lovey, do you keep thinking of
+that vagabond fellow? You know that, when you think of that fellow, it
+has the same effect on you that cabbage has,--it fills up your pylorus
+and stifles you."
+
+"Cabrion!" repeated M. Pipelet, pushing up, with an effort, the hat
+which had fallen so low over his eyes, which he rolled around him with
+an affrighted air.
+
+Rigolette entered, carrying a small bottle of absinthe.
+
+"Thankee, ma'amselle, you are so kind!" said the old body; and then she
+added, "Come, deary, suck this down, that will make you all right."
+
+And Anastasie, presenting the phial quickly to M. Pipelet's lips,
+contrived to make him swallow the absinthe. In vain did Alfred struggle
+vigorously. His wife, taking advantage of the victim's weakness, held up
+his head firmly with one hand, whilst with the other she introduced the
+neck of the little bottle between his teeth, and compelled him to
+swallow the absinthe, after which she exclaimed, triumphantly:
+
+"Ther-r-r-r-e, now-w-w! you're on your pins again, my ducky!"
+
+And Alfred, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, opened his
+eyes, rose, and inquired, in accents of alarm:
+
+"Have you seen him?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Is he gone?"
+
+"Who, Alfred?"
+
+"_Cabrion!_"
+
+"Has he dared--" asked the porteress.
+
+M. Pipelet, as mute as the statue of the commandant, like that
+redoubtable spectre, bowed his head twice with an affirmative air.
+
+"What! has M. Cabrion been here?" inquired Rigolette, repressing a
+violent desire to laugh.
+
+"What! has the monster been unchained on Alfred?" said Madame Pipelet.
+"Oh, if I had been there with my broom, he should have swallowed it,
+handle and all! But tell us, Alfred, all about this horrid affair."
+
+M. Pipelet made signs with his hand that he was about to speak, and they
+listened to the man with the bell-crowned hat in religious silence,
+whilst he expressed himself in these terms, and in a voice of deep
+emotion:
+
+"My wife had left me, to save me the trouble of going out, according to
+the request of monsieur," bowing to Rodolph, "to the mayor's, to church,
+and the cook-shop."
+
+"The dear old darling had had the nightmare all night, and I wished to
+save him the journey," said Anastasie.
+
+"This nightmare was sent me as a warning from on high," responded the
+porter, religiously. "I had dreamed of Cabrion, and I was to suffer from
+Cabrion. Here was I sitting quietly in front of my table, reflecting on
+an alteration which I wished to make in the upper leather of this boot
+confided to my hands, when I heard a noise, a rustling, at the window of
+my lodge,--was it a presentiment, a warning from on high? My heart beat,
+I lifted up my head, and, through the pane of glass, I saw--I saw--"
+
+"Cabrion!" exclaimed Anastasie, clasping her hands.
+
+"Cabrion!" replied M. Pipelet, gloomily. "His hideous face was there,
+pressed close against the window, and he was looking at me with eyes
+like a cat's--what do I say?--a tiger's! just as in my dream. I tried to
+speak, but my tongue clave to my mouth; I tried to rise, I was nailed to
+my seat. My boot fell from my hands, and, as in all the critical and
+important events of my life, I remained perfectly motionless. Then the
+key turned in the lock, the door opened,--Cabrion entered!"
+
+"He entered? Owdacious monster!" replied Madame Pipelet, as much
+astonished as her spouse at such audacity.
+
+"He entered slowly," resumed Alfred, "stopped a moment at the threshold,
+as if to fascinate me with his look, atrocious as it was, then he
+advanced towards me, pausing at each step, and piercing me through with
+his eye, but not uttering a word,--straight, mute, and threatening as a
+phantom!"
+
+"I declare, my very heart aches to hear him," said Anastasie.
+
+"I remained still more motionless, and glued to my chair; Cabrion still
+advanced slowly towards me, fixing his eye as the serpent glares at the
+bird; he so frightened me that, in spite of myself, I kept my eye on
+him; he came close to me, and then I could no longer endure his
+revolting aspect, it was too much, and I could not. I shut my eyes, and
+then I felt that he dared to place his hands upon my hat, which he took
+by the crown and lifted gently off my head, leaving it bare. I began to
+be seized with vertigo, my breathing was suspended, there was a singing
+in my ears, and I was completely fastened to my seat, and I closed my
+eyes still closer and closer. Then Cabrion stooped, took my head between
+his hands, which were as cold as death, and on my forehead, covered with
+an icy damp, he deposited a brazen kiss, indecent wretch!"
+
+Anastasie lifted her hands towards heaven.
+
+"My enemy, the most deadly, imprinted a kiss on my forehead; such a
+monstrosity overcame and paralysed me. Cabrion profited by my stupor to
+place my hat on my head, and then, with a blow of his fist, drove it
+down over my eyes, as you saw. This last outrage destroyed me; the
+measure was full, all about me was turning around, and I fainted at the
+moment when I saw him, from under the rim of my hat, leave the lodge as
+quietly and slowly as he had entered."
+
+Then, as if the recital had exhausted all his strength, M. Pipelet fell
+back in his chair, raising his hands to heaven in a manner of mute
+imprecation. Rigolette went out quickly; she could not restrain herself
+any longer; her desire to laugh almost stifled her. Rodolph had the
+greatest difficulty to keep his countenance.
+
+Suddenly there was a confused murmur, such as announces the arrival of a
+mob, heard from the street, and a great noise came from the door at the
+top of the entrance, and then butts of grounded muskets were heard on
+the steps of the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE ARREST.
+
+
+"Good gracious! M. Rodolph," exclaimed Rigolette, running in, pale and
+trembling, "a commissary of police and the guard have come here."
+
+"Divine justice watches over me," said M. Pipelet, in a transport of
+pious gratitude. "They have come to arrest Cabrion; unfortunately it is
+too late."
+
+A commissary of police, wearing his tricoloured scarf around his waist
+underneath his black coat, entered the lodge. His countenance was
+impressive, magisterial, and serious.
+
+"M. le Commissaire is too late; the malefactor has escaped," said M.
+Pipelet, in a sorrowful voice; "but I will give you his
+description,--villainous smile, impudent look, insulting--"
+
+"Of whom do you speak?" inquired the magistrate.
+
+"Of Cabrion, M. le Commissaire; but, perhaps, if you make all haste, it
+is not yet too late to catch him," added M. Pipelet.
+
+"I know nothing about any Cabrion," said the magistrate, impatiently.
+"Does one Jérome Morel, a working lapidary, live in this house?"
+
+"Yes, mon commissaire," said Madame Pipelet, putting herself into a
+military attitude.
+
+"Conduct me to his apartment."
+
+"Morel, the lapidary!" said the porteress, excessively surprised; "why,
+he is the mildest lambkin in the world. He is incapable of--"
+
+"Does Jérome Morel live here or not?"
+
+"He lives here, sir, with his family, in one of the attics."
+
+"Lead me to his attic."
+
+Then, addressing himself to a man who accompanied him, the magistrate
+said:
+
+"Let two of the municipal guard wait below, and not leave the entrance.
+Send Justing for a hackney-coach."
+
+The man left the lodge to put these orders in execution.
+
+"Now," continued the magistrate, addressing himself to M. Pipelet, "lead
+me to Morel."
+
+"If it is all the same to you, mon commissaire, I will do that for
+Alfred; he is indisposed from Cabrion's behaviour, which, just as the
+cabbage does, troubles his pylorus."
+
+"You or your husband, it is no matter which. Go forward."
+
+And, preceded by Madame Pipelet, he ascended the staircase, but soon
+stopped when he saw Rodolph and Rigolette following him.
+
+"Who are you, and what do you want?" he inquired.
+
+"They are two lodgers in the fourth story," said Madame Pipelet.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir, I did not know that you belonged to the house,"
+said he to Rodolph.
+
+The latter, auguring well from the polite behaviour of the magistrate,
+said to him:
+
+"You are going to see a family in a state of deep misery, sir. I do not
+know what fresh stroke of ill fortune threatens this unhappy artisan,
+but he has been cruelly tried last night,--one of his daughters, worn
+down by illness, is dead before his eyes,--dead from cold and misery."
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"It is, indeed, the fact, mon commissaire," said Madame Pipelet. "But
+for this gentleman who speaks to you, and who is a king of lodgers, for
+he has saved poor Morel from prison by his generosity, the whole family
+of the lapidary must have died of hunger."
+
+The commissary looked at Rodolph with equal surprise and interest.
+
+"Nothing is more easily explained, sir," said Rodolph. "A person who is
+very charitable, learning that Morel, whose honour and honesty I will
+guarantee to you, was in a most deplorable and unmerited state of
+distress, authorised me to pay a bill of exchange for which the bailiffs
+were about to drag off to prison this poor workman, the sole support of
+his numerous family."
+
+The magistrate, in his turn, struck by the noble physiognomy of Rodolph,
+as well as the dignity of his manners, replied:
+
+"I have no doubt of Morel's probity. I only regret I have to fulfil a
+painful duty in your presence, sir, who have so deeply interested
+yourself in this family."
+
+"What do you mean, sir?"
+
+"From the services you have rendered to the Morels, and your language, I
+see, sir, that you are a worthy person. Having, besides, no reason for
+concealing the object of the warrant which I have to execute, I will
+confess to you that I am about to apprehend Louise Morel, the lapidary's
+daughter."
+
+The recollection of the rouleau of gold, offered to the bailiffs by the
+young girl, occurred to Rodolph.
+
+"Of what is she then accused?"
+
+"She lies under a charge of child-murder."
+
+"She! she! Oh, her poor father!"
+
+"From what you have told me, sir, I imagine that, under the miserable
+circumstances in which this artisan is, this fresh blow will be terrible
+for him. Unfortunately, I must carry out the full instructions with
+which I am charged."
+
+"But it is at present only an accusation?" asked Rodolph. "Proofs, no
+doubt, are still wanting?"
+
+"I cannot tell you more on that point. Justice has been informed of this
+crime, or rather the presumptive crime, by the statement of an
+individual most respectable in every particular, Louise Morel's master."
+
+"Jacques Ferrand, the notary?" said Rodolph, with indignation.
+
+"Yes, sir--"
+
+"M. Jacques Ferrand is a wretch, sir!"
+
+"I am pained to see that you do not know the person of whom you speak,
+sir. M. Jacques Ferrand is one of the most honourable men in the world;
+his rectitude is universally recognised."
+
+"I repeat to you, sir, that this notary is a wretch. It was he who
+sought to send Morel to prison because his daughter repulsed his
+libidinous proposals. If Louise is only accused on the denunciation of
+such a man, you must own, sir, that the charge deserves but very little
+credit."
+
+"It is not my affair, sir, and I am very glad of it, to discuss the
+depositions of M. Ferrand," said the magistrate, coldly. "Justice is
+informed in this matter, and it is for a court of law to decide. As for
+me, I have a warrant to apprehend Louise Morel, and that warrant I must
+put into execution."
+
+"You are quite right, sir, and I regret that an impulse of feeling,
+however just, should have made me forget for a moment that this was
+neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. One word only: the
+corpse of the child which Morel has lost is still in the attic, and I
+have offered my apartments to the family to spare them the sad spectacle
+of the dead body. You will, therefore, find the lapidary, and possibly
+his daughter, in my rooms. I entreat you, sir, in the name of humanity,
+do not apprehend Louise abruptly in the midst of the unhappy family only
+a short time since snatched from their state of utter wretchedness.
+Morel has had so many shocks during this night that it is really to be
+feared his reason may sink under it; already his wife is dangerously
+ill, and such a blow would kill him."
+
+"Sir, I have always executed my orders with every possible
+consideration, and I shall act similarly now."
+
+"Will you allow me, sir, to ask you one favour? It is this: the young
+female who is following us occupies an apartment close to mine, which, I
+have no doubt, she would place at your disposal. You could, in the first
+instance, send for Louise, and, if necessary, for Morel afterwards, that
+his daughter may take leave of him. You will thus save a poor sick and
+infirm mother from a very distressing scene."
+
+"Most willingly, sir, if it can be so arranged."
+
+The conversation we have just described was carried on in an undertone,
+whilst Rigolette and Madame Pipelet kept away discreetly a few steps'
+distance from the commissary and Rodolph. The latter then went to the
+grisette, whom the presence of the commissary had greatly affrighted,
+and said to her:
+
+"My good little neighbour, I want another service from you,--I want you
+to leave your room at my disposal for the next hour."
+
+"As long as you please, M. Rodolph. You have the key. But, oh, say what
+is the matter?"
+
+"I will tell you all by and by. But I want something more; you must
+return to the Temple, and tell them not to bring our purchases here for
+the next hour."
+
+"To be sure I will, M. Rodolph; but has any fresh misfortune befallen
+the Morels?"
+
+"Alas! yes, something very sad indeed, which you will learn but too
+soon."
+
+"Well, then, neighbour, I will run to the Temple. Alas, alas! I was
+thinking that, thanks to your kindness, these poor people had been quite
+relieved from their trouble!" said the grisette, who then descended the
+staircase very quickly.
+
+Rodolph had been very desirous of sparing Rigolette the distressing
+scene of Louise Morel's arrest.
+
+"Mon commissaire," said Madame Pipelet, "since my king of lodgers will
+direct you, I may return to my Alfred. I am uneasy about him, for when I
+left him he had hardly recovered from his indisposition which Cabrion
+had caused."
+
+"Go, go," said the magistrate, who was thus left alone with Rodolph.
+
+They both ascended to the landing-place on the fourth story, at the door
+of the chamber in which the lapidary and his family had been temporarily
+established.
+
+Suddenly the door opened. Louise, pale and in tears, came out quickly.
+
+"Adieu, adieu, father!" she exclaimed. "I will come back again, but I
+must go now."
+
+"Louise, my child, listen to me a moment," said Morel, following his
+daughter, and endeavouring to detain her.
+
+At the sight of Rodolph and the magistrate, Louise and the lapidary
+remained motionless.
+
+"Ah, sir, you, our kind benefactor!" said the artisan, recognising
+Rodolph, "assist me in preventing Louise from leaving us. I do not know
+what is the matter with her, but she quite frightens me, she is so
+determined to go. Now there is no occasion for her to return to her
+master, is there, sir? Did you not say to me, 'Louise shall not again
+leave you, and that will recompense you for much that you have
+suffered?' Ah! at that kind promise, I confess that for a moment I had
+forgot the death of my poor little Adčle; but I must not again be
+separated from thee, Louise, oh, never, never!"
+
+Rodolph was wounded to the heart, and was unable to utter a word in
+reply.
+
+The commissary said sternly to Louise:
+
+"Is your name Louise Morel?"
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the young girl, quite overcome.
+
+"You are Jérome Morel, her father?" added the magistrate, addressing the
+lapidary.
+
+Rodolph had opened the door of Rigolette's apartment.
+
+"Yes, sir; but--"
+
+"Go in there with your daughter."
+
+And the magistrate pointed to Rigolette's chamber, into which Rodolph
+had already entered.
+
+Reassured by his preserver, the lapidary and Louise, astonished and
+uneasy, did as the commissary desired them.
+
+The commissary shut the door, and said with much feeling to Morel:
+
+"I know that you are honest and unfortunate, and it is, therefore, with
+regret that I tell you that I am here in the name of the law to
+apprehend your daughter."
+
+"All is discovered,--I am lost!" cried Louise, in agony, and throwing
+herself into her father's arms.
+
+"What do you say? What do you say?" inquired Morel, stupefied. "You are
+mad! What do you mean by lost? Apprehend you! Why apprehend you? Who has
+come to apprehend you?"
+
+"I, and in the name of the law;" and the commissary showed his scarf.
+
+"Oh, wretched, wretched girl!" exclaimed Louise, falling on her knees.
+
+"What! in the name of the law?" said the artisan, whose reason, severely
+shaken by this fresh blow, began to totter. "Why apprehend my daughter
+in the name of the law? I will answer for Louise, I will,--this my
+child, my good child, ain't you, Louise? What! apprehend you, when our
+good angel has restored you to us to console us for the death of our
+poor, dear little Adčle? Come, come, this can't be. And then, to speak
+respectfully, M. le Commissaire, they apprehend none but the bad, you
+know; and my Louise is not bad. So you see, my dear, the good gentleman
+is mistaken. My name is Morel, but there are other Morels; you are
+Louise, but there are other Louises; so you see, M. le Commissaire,
+there is a mistake, certainly some mistake!"
+
+"Unhappily there is no mistake. Louise Morel, take leave of your
+father!"
+
+"What! are you going to take my daughter away?" exclaimed the workman,
+furious with grief, and advancing towards the magistrate with a menacing
+air.
+
+Rodolph seized the lapidary by the arm, and said to him:
+
+"Be calm, and hope for the best; your daughter will be restored to you;
+her innocence must be proved; she cannot be guilty."
+
+"Guilty of what? She is not guilty of anything. I will put my hand in
+the fire if--" Then, remembering the gold which Louise had brought to
+pay the bill with, Morel cried, "But the money--that money you had this
+morning, Louise!" And he gave his daughter a terrible look.
+
+Louise understood it.
+
+"I rob!" she exclaimed; and her cheeks suffused with generous
+indignation, her tone and gesture, reassured her father.
+
+"I knew it well enough!" he exclaimed. "You see, M. le Commissaire, she
+denies it; and I swear to you, that she never told me a lie in her life;
+and everybody that knows her will say the same thing as I do. She lie!
+Oh, no, she is too proud to do that! And, then, the bill has been paid
+by our benefactor. The gold she does not wish to keep, but will return
+it to the person who lent it to her, desiring him not to tell any one;
+won't you, Louise?"
+
+"Your daughter is not accused of theft," said the magistrate.
+
+"Well, then, what is the charge against her? I, her father, swear to you
+that she is innocent of whatever crime they may accuse her of, and I
+never told a lie in my life either."
+
+"Why should you know what she is charged with?" said Rodolph, moved by
+his distress. "Louise's innocence will be proved; the person who takes
+so great an interest in you will protect your daughter. Come, come!
+Courage, courage! This time Providence will not forsake you. Embrace
+your daughter, and you will soon see her again."
+
+"M. le Commissaire," cried Morel, not attending to Rodolph, "you are
+going to deprive a father of his daughter without even naming the crime
+of which she is accused! Let me know all! Louise, why don't you speak?"
+
+"Your daughter is accused of child-murder," said the magistrate.
+
+"I--I--I--child-mur--I don't--you--"
+
+And Morel, aghast, stammered incoherently.
+
+"Your daughter is accused of having killed her child," said the
+commissary, deeply touched at this scene; "but it is not yet proved that
+she has committed this crime."
+
+"Oh, no, I have not, sir! I have not!" exclaimed Louise, energetically,
+and rising; "I swear to you that it was dead. It never breathed,--it was
+cold. I lost my senses,--this is my crime. But kill my child! Oh, never,
+never!"
+
+"Your child, abandoned girl!" cried Morel, raising his hands towards
+Louise, as if he would annihilate her by this gesture and imprecation.
+
+"Pardon, father, pardon!" she exclaimed.
+
+After a moment's fearful silence, Morel resumed, with a calm that was
+even more frightful:
+
+"M. le Commissaire, take away that creature; she is not my child!"
+
+The lapidary turned to leave the room; but Louise threw herself at his
+knees, around which she clung with both arms; and, with her head thrown
+back, distracted and supplicating, she exclaimed:
+
+"Father, hear me! Only hear me!"
+
+"M. le Commissaire, away with her, I beseech you! I leave her to you,"
+said the lapidary, struggling to free himself from Louise's embrace.
+
+"Listen to her," said Rodolph, holding him; "do not be so pitiless."
+
+"To her! To her!" repeated Morel, lifting his two hands to his forehead,
+"to a dishonoured wretch! A wanton! Oh, a wanton!"
+
+"But, if she were dishonoured through her efforts to save you?" said
+Rodolph to him in a low voice.
+
+These words made a sudden and painful impression on Morel, and he cast
+his eyes on his weeping child still on her knees before him; then, with
+a searching look, impossible to describe, he cried in a hollow voice,
+clenching his teeth with rage:
+
+"The notary?"
+
+An answer came to Louise's lips. She was about to speak, but paused,--no
+doubt a reflection,--and, bending down her head, remained silent.
+
+"No, no; he sought to imprison me this morning!" continued Morel, with a
+violent burst. "Can it be he? Ah, so much the better, so much the
+better! She has not even an excuse for her crime; she never thought of
+me in her dishonour, and I may curse her without remorse."
+
+"No, no; do not curse me, my father! I will tell you all,--to you alone,
+and you will see--you will see whether or not I deserve your
+forgiveness."
+
+"For pity's sake, hear her!" said Rodolph to him.
+
+"What will she tell me,--her infamy? That will soon be public, and I can
+wait till then."
+
+"Sir," said Louise, addressing the magistrate, "for pity's sake, leave
+me alone with my father, that I may say a few words to him before I
+leave him, perhaps for ever; and before you, also, our benefactor, I
+will speak; but only before you and my father."
+
+"Be it so," said the magistrate.
+
+"Will you be pitiless, and refuse this last consolation to your child?"
+asked Rodolph of Morel. "If you think you owe me any gratitude for the
+kindness which I have been enabled to show you, consent to your
+daughter's entreaties."
+
+After a moment's sad and angry silence, Morel replied:
+
+"I will."
+
+"But where shall we go!" inquired Rodolph; "your family are in the other
+room."
+
+"Where shall we go," exclaimed the lapidary, with a bitter irony, "where
+shall we go? Up above,--up above, into the garret, by the side of the
+body of my dead daughter; that spot will well suit a confession, will it
+not? Come along, come, and we will see if Louise will dare to tell a lie
+in the presence of her sister's corpse. Come! Come along!"
+
+And Morel went out hastily with a wild air, and turning his face from
+Louise.
+
+"Sir," said the commissary to Rodolph, in an undertone, "I beg you for
+this poor man's sake not to protract this conversation. You were right
+when you said his reason was touched; just now his look was that of a
+madman."
+
+"Alas, sir, I am equally fearful with yourself of some fresh and
+terrible disaster! I will abridge as much as I can this most painful
+farewell."
+
+And Rodolph rejoined the lapidary and his daughter.
+
+However strange and painful Morel's determination might appear, it was
+really the only thing that, under the circumstances, could be done. The
+magistrate consented to await the issue of this conversation in
+Rigolette's chamber; the Morel family were occupying Rodolph's
+apartment, and there was only the garret at liberty; and it was into
+this horrid retreat that Louise, her father, and Rodolph betook
+themselves. Sad and affecting sight!
+
+In the middle of the attic which we have already described, there lay,
+stretched on the idiot's mattress, the body of the little girl who had
+died in the morning, now covered by a ragged cloth. The unusual and
+clear light, reflected through the narrow skylight, threw the figures of
+the three actors in this scene into bold relief. Rodolph, standing up,
+was leaning with his back against the wall, deeply moved. Morel, seated
+at the edge of his working-bench, with his head bent, his hands hanging
+listless by his sides, whilst his gaze, fixed and fierce, rested on, and
+did not quit, the mattress on which the remains of his poor little Adčle
+were deposited. At this spectacle, the anger and indignation of the
+lapidary subsided, and were changed to inexpressible bitterness; his
+energy left him, and he was utterly prostrated beneath this fresh blow.
+Louise, who was ghastly pale, felt her strength forsake her. The
+revelation she was about to make terrified her. Still she ventured,
+tremblingly, to take her father's hand,--that miserable and shrivelled
+hand, withered and wasted by excess of toil. The lapidary did not
+withdraw it, and then his daughter, sobbing as if her heart would burst,
+covered it with kisses, and felt it slightly pressed against her lips.
+Morel's wrath had ended, and then his tears, long repressed, flowed
+freely and bitterly.
+
+"Oh, father, if you only knew!" exclaimed Louise; "if you only knew how
+much I am to be pitied!"
+
+"Oh, Louise, this, this will be the heaviest bitter in my cup for the
+rest of my life,--all my life long," replied the lapidary, weeping
+terribly. "You, you in prison,--in the same bench with criminals; you so
+proud when you had a right to be proud! No," he resumed in a fresh burst
+of grief and despair, "no; I would rather have seen you in your shroud
+beside your poor little sister!"
+
+"And I, I would sooner be there!" replied Louise.
+
+"Be silent, unhappy girl, you pain me. I was wrong to say so; I have
+been too harsh. Come, speak; but in the name of Heaven, do not lie.
+However frightful the truth may be, yet tell it me all; let me learn it
+from your lips, and it will be less cruel. Speak, for, alas! our moments
+are counted, they are waiting for you down below. Ah, just Heaven, what
+a sad, sad parting!"
+
+"My father, I will tell you all,--everything," replied Louise, taking
+courage; "but promise me--and our kind benefactor must promise me
+also--not to repeat this to any person,--to any person. If he knew that
+I had told!--oh," and she shuddered as she spoke, "you would be
+destroyed, destroyed as I am; for you know not the power and ferocity of
+this man."
+
+"What man?"
+
+"My master!"
+
+"The notary?"
+
+"Yes," said Louise in a whisper, and looking around her as if she feared
+to be overheard.
+
+"Take courage," said Rodolph; "no matter how cruel and powerful this man
+may be, we will defeat him! Besides, if I reveal what you are about to
+tell us, it would only be in the interest of yourself or your father."
+
+"And me too, Louise, if I speak, it would be in endeavouring to save
+you. But what has this villain done?"
+
+"This is not all," said Louise, after a moment's reflection; "in this
+recital there will be a person implicated who has rendered me a great
+service, who has shown the utmost kindness to my father and family; this
+person was in the employ of M. Ferrand when I entered his service, and
+he made me take an oath not to disclose his name."
+
+Rodolph, believing that she referred to Germain, said to Louise:
+
+"If you mean François Germain, make your mind tranquil, his secret shall
+be kept by your father and myself."
+
+Louise looked at Rodolph with surprise.
+
+"Do you know him?" said she.
+
+"What! was the good, excellent young man, who lived here for three
+months, employed at the notary's when you went to his service?" said
+Morel. "The first time you met him here, you appeared as if you had
+never seen him before."
+
+"It was agreed between us, father; he had serious reasons why he did not
+wish it known that he was working at M. Ferrand's. It was I who told him
+of the room to let on the fourth story here, knowing that he would be a
+good neighbour for you."
+
+"But," inquired Rodolph, "who, then, placed your daughter at the
+notary's?"
+
+"During the illness of my wife, I said to Madame Burette--the woman who
+advanced money on pledges, who lived in this house--that Louise wished
+to get into service in order to assist us. Madame Burette knew the
+notary's housekeeper, and gave me a letter to her, in which she
+recommended Louise as a very good girl. Cursed letter! it was the cause
+of all our misfortune. This was the way, sir, that my daughter got into
+the notary's service."
+
+"Although I know some of the causes which excited M. Ferrand's hatred
+against your father," said Rodolph to Louise, "I beg you to tell me as
+shortly as possible what passed between you and the notary after your
+entering into his service; it may, perhaps, be useful for your defence."
+
+"When I first went into M. Ferrand's house," said Louise, "I had nothing
+to complain of with respect to him. I had a great deal to do, and the
+housekeeper often scolded me, and the house was very dull; but I endured
+everything very patiently. Service is service, and, perhaps, elsewhere I
+should have other disagreeables. M. Ferrand was a very stern-looking
+person; he went to mass, and frequently had priests in his house. I did
+not at all distrust him; for at first he hardly ever looked at me, spoke
+short and cross, especially when there were any strangers. Except the
+porter who lived at the entrance, in the same part of the house as the
+office is in, I was the only servant, with Madame Séraphin, the
+housekeeper. The pavilion that we occupied was isolated between the
+court and the garden. My bedroom was high up. I was often afraid, being,
+as I was, always alone, either in the kitchen, which is underground, or
+in my bedroom. One day I had worked very late mending some things that
+were required in a hurry, and then I was going to bed, when I heard
+footsteps moving quietly in the little passage at the end of which my
+room was situated; some one stopped at my door. At first I supposed it
+was the housekeeper; but, as no one entered, I began to be alarmed. I
+dared not move, but I listened; however, I heard no one; yet I was sure
+that there was some one behind my door. I asked twice who was there, but
+no one answered; I then pushed my chest of drawers against the door,
+which had neither lock nor bolt. I still listened, but nothing stirred;
+so at the end of half an hour, which seemed very long to me, I threw
+myself on my bed, and the night passed quietly. The next morning I asked
+the housekeeper's leave to have a bolt put on my door, which had no
+fastening, telling her of my fright on the previous night, and she told
+me I had been dreaming, and that, if I wanted a bolt, I must ask M.
+Ferrand for it. When I asked him, he shrugged up his shoulders, and said
+I was crazy; so I did not dare say any more about it. Some time after
+this, the misfortune about the diamond happened. My father in his
+despair did not know what to do. I told Madame Séraphin of his distress,
+and she replied; 'Monsieur is so charitable, perhaps he will do
+something for your father.' The same afternoon, when I was waiting at
+table, M. Ferrand said to me, suddenly, 'Your father is in want of
+thirteen hundred francs; go and tell him to come to my office this
+evening, and he shall have the money.' At this mark of kindness I burst
+into tears, and did not know how to thank him, when he said, with his
+usual bluntness, 'Very good, very good; oh, what I do is nothing!' The
+same evening, after my work, I came to my father to tell him the good
+news; the next day--"
+
+"I had the thirteen hundred francs, giving him my acceptance in blank at
+three months' date," said Morel. "I did like Louise, and wept with
+gratitude, called this man my benefactor. Oh, what a wretch must he be
+thus to destroy the gratitude and veneration I entertained for him!"
+
+"This precaution of making you give him a blank acceptance, at a date
+falling due so soon that you could not meet it, must have raised your
+suspicion?" said Rodolph.
+
+"No, sir, I only thought the notary took it for security, that was all;
+besides, he told me that I need not think about repaying this sum in
+less than two years; but that, every three months, the bill should be
+renewed for the sake of greater regularity. It was, however, duly
+presented here on the day it became due, but, as you may suppose, was
+not paid. The usual course of law was followed up, and judgment was
+obtained against me in the name of a third party. All this I was desired
+not to feel any uneasiness respecting, as it had been caused by an error
+on the part of the officer in whose hands the bill had been placed."
+
+"His motive is very evident," said Rodolph; "he wished to have you
+entirely in his power."
+
+"Alas, sir, it was from the very day in which he obtained judgment that
+he commenced! But, go on, Louise, go on. I scarcely know where I am. My
+head seems giddy and bewildered, and at times my memory entirely fails
+me. I fear my senses are leaving me, and that I shall become mad. Oh,
+this is too much--too hard to bear!"
+
+Rodolph having succeeded in tranquillising the lapidary, Louise thus
+proceeded:
+
+"With a view to prove my gratitude to M. Ferrand for all his kindness
+towards my family, I redoubled my endeavours to serve him well and
+faithfully. From that time the housekeeper appeared to take an utter
+aversion to me, and to embrace every opportunity of rendering me
+uncomfortable, continually exposing me to anger by withholding from me
+the various orders given by M. Ferrand. All this made me extremely
+miserable, and I would gladly have sought another place; but the
+knowledge of my father's pecuniary obligation to my master prevented my
+following my inclinations.
+
+"The money had now been lent about three months, and, though M. Ferrand
+still continued harsh and unkind to me in the presence of Madame
+Séraphin, he began casting looks of a peculiar and embarrassing
+description at me whenever he could do so unobserved, and would smile
+and seem amused when he perceived the confusion it occasioned me."
+
+"Take notice, I beg, sir, that it was at this very time the necessary
+legal proceedings, for enabling him at any moment to deprive me of my
+liberty, were going on."
+
+"One day," said Louise, in continuation, "the housekeeper went out
+directly after dinner, contrary to her usual custom; the clerks, none of
+whom lived in the house, were dismissed from further duty for the day,
+and retired to their respective homes; the porter was sent out on a
+message, leaving M. Ferrand and myself alone in the house. I was doing
+some needlework Madame Séraphin had given me, and by her orders was
+sitting in a small antechamber, from whence I could hear if I was
+wanted. After some time the bell of my master's bedroom rang; I went
+there immediately, and upon entering found him standing before the fire.
+As I approached he turned around suddenly and caught me in his arms.
+Alarm and surprise at first deprived me of power to move; but, spite of
+his great strength, I at last struggled so successfully, that I managed
+to free myself from his grasp, and, running back with all speed to the
+room I had just quitted, I hastily shut the door, and held it with all
+my force. Unfortunately, the key was on the other side."
+
+"You hear, sir,--you hear," said Morel to Rodolph, "the manner in which
+this generous benefactor behaved to the daughter of the man he affected
+to serve!"
+
+"At the end of a few minutes," continued Louise, "the door yielded to
+the efforts of M. Ferrand. Fortunately, the lamp by which I had been
+working was within my reach, and I precipitately extinguished it. The
+antechamber was at some distance from his bedchamber, and we were,
+therefore, left in utter darkness. At first he called me by name; but,
+finding that I did not reply, he exclaimed, in a voice trembling with
+rage and passion, 'If you try to escape from me, your father shall go to
+prison for the thirteen hundred francs he owes, and is unable to pay.' I
+besought him to have pity on me, promised to do all in my power to serve
+him faithfully, and with gratitude for all his goodness to my family,
+but declared that no consideration on earth should induce me to disgrace
+myself or those I belonged to."
+
+"There spoke my Louise," said Morel, "or, rather, as she would have
+spoken in her days of proud innocence. How, then, if such were your
+sentiments--But go on, go on."
+
+"I was still concealed by the darkness, which I trusted would preserve
+me, when I heard the door closed which led from the antechamber, and
+which my master had contrived to find by groping along the wall. Thus,
+having me wholly in his power, he returned to his chamber for a light,
+with which he quickly returned, and then commenced a fresh attack, the
+particulars of which, my dearest father, I will not venture to
+describe; suffice it, that promises, threats, violence, all were tried;
+but anger, fear, and despair armed me with fresh strength, and, while I
+continually eluded his grasp, and fled for safety from room to room, his
+rage at my determined resistance knew no bounds. In his fury he even
+struck me with such frenzied violence as to leave my features streaming
+with blood."
+
+"You hear! you hear!" exclaimed the lapidary, raising his clasped hands
+towards heaven, "and are crimes like this to go unpunished? Shall such a
+monster escape and not pay a heavy penalty for his wickedness?"
+
+"Trust me," said Rodolph, who seemed profoundly meditating on what he
+heard, "trust me, this man's time and hour will come. But continue your
+painful narration, my poor girl, and shrink not from telling us even its
+blackest details."
+
+"The struggle between us had now gone on so long that my strength began
+to fail me. I was conscious of my own inability to resist further, when
+the porter, who had returned home, rang the bell twice,--the usual
+signal when letters arrived and required to be fetched from his hands.
+Fearing that, if I did not obey the summons, the porter would bring the
+letters himself, M. Ferrand said, 'Go; utter but one word, and to-morrow
+sees your father in prison. If you endeavour to quit this house, the
+consequences will fall on him; and, as for you, I will take care no one
+shall take you into their house, for, without exactly affirming it, I
+will contrive to make every one think you have robbed me. Then, should
+any person refer to me for your character, I shall speak of you as an
+idle, unworthy girl whom I could keep no longer.'
+
+"The following day after this scene, spite of the menaces of my master,
+I ran home to complain to my father of the unkind usage I received,
+without daring, however, to tell him all. His first desire was for me
+to quit the house of M. Ferrand without delay. But, then, a prison
+would close upon my poor parent; added to which, my small earnings had
+become indispensably necessary to our family since the illness of my
+mother, and the bad character promised me by M. Ferrand might possibly
+have prevented me from finding another service for a very long time."
+
+"Yes," said Morel, with gloomy bitterness, "we were selfish and cowardly
+enough to allow our poor child to return to that accursed roof. Oh, I
+spoke truly when I said, 'Want, want, what mean, what degrading acts do
+you not force us to commit!'"
+
+"Alas, dear father, did you not try by every possible means to procure
+these thirteen hundred francs? And, that being impossible, there was
+nothing left but to submit ourselves to our fate."
+
+"Go on, go on; your parents have been your executioners, and we are far
+more guilty than yourself of all the fearful consequences!" exclaimed
+the lapidary, concealing his face with his hands.
+
+"When I next saw my master," said Louise, "he had resumed the harsh and
+severe manner with which he ordinarily treated me. He made not the
+slightest reference to the scene I have just related, while his
+housekeeper persisted in her accustomed tormenting and unkind behaviour
+towards me, giving me scarcely sufficient food to maintain my strength,
+and even locking the bread up so that I could not help myself to a
+morsel; she would even carry her cruelty so far as to wilfully spoil and
+damage the morsels left by herself and M. Ferrand for my repasts, I
+always taking my meals after my master and the housekeeper, who
+invariably sat down to table together. My nights were as painful as my
+days. I durst not indulge in sleep, lest I should be surprised by the
+entrance of the notary. I had no means of securing my chamber door, and
+the chest of drawers with which I used to fasten myself in had been
+taken away, leaving me only a small table, a chair, and my box. With
+these articles I barricaded the door as well as I could, and merely lay
+down in my clothes, ready to start up at the least noise. Some time
+elapsed, however, without my having any further alarm as regarded M.
+Ferrand, who seemed to have altogether forgotten me, and seldom bestowed
+even a look on me. By degrees my fears died away, and I became almost
+persuaded I had nothing more to dread from the persecutions of my
+master. One Sunday I had permission to visit my home, and with extreme
+delight hastened to announce the happy change that had taken place to my
+parents. Oh, how we all rejoiced to think so! Up to that moment, my dear
+father, you know all that occurred. What I have still to tell you,"
+murmured Louise, as her voice sunk into an inarticulate whisper, "is so
+dreadful that I have never dared reveal it."
+
+"I was sure, ah, too sure," cried Morel, with a wildness of manner and
+rapidity of utterance which startled and alarmed Rodolph, "that you were
+hiding something from me. Too plainly did I perceive, by your pale and
+altered countenance, that your mind was burthened with some heavy
+secret. Many a time have I said so to your mother; but she, poor thing!
+would not listen to me, and even blamed me for making myself
+unnecessarily miserable. So you see, that weakly, and selfish to escape
+from trouble ourselves, we allowed our poor, helpless child to remain
+under this monster's roof. And to what have we reduced our poor girl?
+Why, to be classed with the felons and criminals of a prison! See, see
+what comes of parents sacrificing their children. And, then, too, be it
+remembered--after all--who knows? True, we are poor--very poor, and may
+be guilty--yes, yes, quite right, guilty of throwing our daughter into
+shame and disgrace. But, then, see how wretched and distressed we were!
+Besides, such as we--" Then, as if suddenly striving to collect his
+bewildered ideas, Morel struck his forehead, exclaiming, "Alas! I know
+not what I say. My brain burns and my senses seem deserting me. A sort
+of bewilderment seems to come over me as though I were stupefied with
+drink. Alas, alas! I am going mad!" So saying, the unhappy man buried
+his face between his hands.
+
+Unwilling that Louise should perceive the extent of his apprehensions as
+regarded the agitated state of the lapidary, and how much alarm he felt
+at his wild, incoherent language, Rodolph gravely replied:
+
+"You are unjust, Morel; it was not for herself alone, but for her aged
+and afflicted parent, her children, and you, that your poor wife dreaded
+the consequences of Louise's quitting the notary's house. Accuse no one;
+but let all your just anger, your bitter curses, fall on the head that
+alone deserves it,--on that hypocritical monster who offered a weak and
+helpless girl the alternative of infamy or ruin; perhaps destruction;
+perhaps death to those she most tenderly loved,--on the fiend who could
+thus abuse the power he held, thus prey upon the tenderest, holiest
+feelings of a loving daughter, thus shamelessly outrage every moral and
+religious duty. But patience; as I before remarked, Providence
+frequently reserves for crimes so black as this a fearful and astounding
+retribution."
+
+As Rodolph uttered these words, he spoke with a tone so expressive of
+his own conviction of the certain vengeance of Heaven, that Louise gazed
+at her preserver with a surprise not unmingled with fear.
+
+"Go on, my poor girl," resumed Rodolph, addressing Louise; "conceal
+nothing from us: it is more important than you can be aware that you
+should relate the most minute details of your sad story."
+
+Thus encouraged, Louise proceeded:
+
+"I began, therefore, as I told you, to regain my tranquillity, when one
+evening both M. Ferrand and his housekeeper went out. They did not dine
+at home. I was quite alone in the house. As usual, my allowance of
+bread, wine, and water was left for me, and every place carefully
+locked. When I had finished my work, I took the food placed for me, and,
+having made my meal, I retired to my bedroom, thinking it less dull than
+remaining down-stairs by myself. I took care to leave a light in the
+hall for my master, as when he dined out no one ever sat up for him.
+Once in my chamber, I seated myself and commenced my sewing; but,
+contrary to my usual custom, I found the greatest difficulty in keeping
+myself awake. A heavy drowsiness seemed to steal over, and a weight like
+lead seemed to press on my eyelids. Alas, dear father!" cried Louise,
+interrupting herself as though frightened at her own recital, "I feel
+sure you will not credit what I am about to say, you will believe I am
+uttering falsehoods; and yet, here, over the lifeless body of my poor
+little sister, I swear to the truth of each word I speak."
+
+"Explain yourself, my good girl," said Rodolph.
+
+"Indeed, sir," answered Louise, "you ask me to do that I have been
+vainly trying to accomplish during the last seven months. In vain have I
+racked my brains to endeavour to account for the events of that fatal
+night. Sometimes I have almost grown distracted while trying to clear up
+this fearful and mysterious occurrence."
+
+"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed the lapidary, suddenly rousing from one of
+those fits of almost apathetic stupor into which he had occasionally
+fallen from the very commencement of this narration, "what dreadful
+thing is she going to tell us?"
+
+"This lethargic feeling," continued Louise, "so completely overpowered
+me, that, unable any longer to resist it, I at length, contrary to my
+usual custom, fell asleep upon my chair. This is all I recollect
+before--before--Oh, forgive me, father, forgive me! indeed, indeed, I am
+not guilty; yet--"
+
+"I believe you--I believe you; but proceed."
+
+"I know not how long I slept; but when I awoke it was to shame and
+dishonour, for I found M. Ferrand beside me."
+
+"'Tis false! 'tis false!" screamed the lapidary, in a tone of frenzied
+violence. "Confess that you yielded to violence or to the dread of
+seeing me dragged to prison, but do not seek to impose on me by
+falsehoods such as this."
+
+"Father! father! I call Heaven to witness I am telling you the truth
+only."
+
+"I tell you 'tis a base falsehood. Why should the notary have wished to
+throw me in prison, since you had freely yielded to his wishes?"
+
+"Yielded! Oh, no, dear father, I would have died first! So deep was my
+sleep that it resembled that of death. It may seem to you both
+extraordinary and impossible, and I assure you that, up to the present
+hour, I myself have never been able to understand it or account for
+it--"
+
+"But I can do so at once," said Rodolph, interrupting Louise. "This
+crime alone was wanting to complete the heavy calendar of that man's
+offences. Accuse not your daughter, Morel, of seeking to deceive you.
+Tell me, Louise, when you made your meal, before ascending to your
+chamber, did you not remark something peculiar in the taste of the wine
+given you to drink? Try and recollect this circumstance."
+
+After reflecting a short time, Louise replied:
+
+"Yes, I do indeed remember," answered she, "that the wine and water left
+for me as usual had a somewhat bitter taste; but I did not pay much
+attention to it, because the housekeeper would frequently, when
+spitefully inclined, amuse herself with throwing salt or pepper into
+what I drank."
+
+"But, on the day you were describing, your wine had a bitter taste?"
+
+"It had, sir, but not sufficiently so to prevent my drinking it; and I
+attributed it to the wine being turned."
+
+Morel, with fixed eye and haggard look, listened both to the questions
+of Rodolph and the answers of Louise without appearing to understand to
+what they tended.
+
+"And before falling asleep on your chair, did not your head seem
+unusually heavy, and your limbs weary?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir, I felt a fullness and throbbing in my temples, an icy
+coldness seemed to fill my veins, and a feeling of unusual discomfort
+oppressed me."
+
+"Wretch, villainous wretch!" exclaimed Rodolph. "Are you aware, Morel,
+what this man made your poor child take in her wine?"
+
+The artisan gazed at Rodolph without replying to his question.
+
+"His accomplice, the housekeeper, had mingled in Louise's drink some
+sort of stupefying drug, most probably opium, by which means both the
+bodily and mental powers of your unfortunate daughter were completely
+paralysed for several hours; and when she awoke from this lethargic
+state it was to find herself dishonoured and disgraced."
+
+"Ah, now," exclaimed Louise, "my misfortune is explained. You see, dear
+father, I am less guilty than you thought me. Father! dear, dear father!
+look upon me, bestow one little look of pity and of pardon on your poor
+Louise!"
+
+But the glance of the lapidary was fixed and vacant; his honest mind
+could not comprehend the idea of so black, so monstrous a crime as that
+ascribed to the notary, and he gazed with blank wonder at the words he
+heard, as though quite unable to affix any meaning to them. And besides,
+during the latter part of the discourse, his intellect became evidently
+shaken, his ideas became a shapeless, confused mass of wandering
+recollections; a mere chaotic mass of griefs and sorrows possessed his
+brain, and he sank into a state of mental prostration, which is to
+intellect what darkness is to the sight,--the formidable symptoms of a
+weakened brain. After a pause of some length, Morel replied, in a low,
+hasty tone:
+
+"Yes, yes; it is bad, very, very bad; cannot be worse!" and then
+relapsed into his former apathy; while Rodolph, watching him with pained
+attention, perceived that the energy, even of indignation, was becoming
+exhausted within the mind of the miserable father, in the same manner as
+excess of grief will frequently dry up the relief of tears. Anxious to
+put an end as quickly as possible to the present trying scene, Rodolph
+said to Louise:
+
+"Proceed, my poor child, and let us have the remainder of this tissue of
+horrors."
+
+"Alas, sir! what you have heard is as nothing to that which follows.
+When I perceived M. Ferrand by my side I uttered a cry of terror. My
+first impulse was to rush from the room, but M. Ferrand forcibly
+detained me; and I still felt so weak, so stupefied with the medicine
+you speak of as having been mingled in my drink, that I was powerless as
+an infant. 'Why do you wish to escape from me now?' inquired M. Ferrand,
+with an air of surprise which filled me with dread. 'What fresh caprice
+is this? Am I not here by your own free will and consent?' 'Oh, sir!'
+exclaimed I, 'this is most shameful and unworthy, to take advantage of
+my sleep to work my ruin; but my father shall know all!' Here my master
+interrupted me by bursting into loud laughter. 'Upon my word, young
+lady,' said he, 'you are very amusing. So you are going to say that I
+availed myself of your being asleep to effect your undoing. But who do
+you suppose will credit such a falsehood? It is now four in the morning,
+and since ten o'clock last night I have been here. You must have slept
+long and soundly not to have discovered my presence sooner. Come, come,
+no more attempts at shyness, but confess the truth, that I came hither
+with your perfect good-will and consent. You must be less capricious or
+we shall not keep good friends, I fear. Your father is in my power. You
+have no longer any cause to fly me. Be obedient to my wishes and we
+shall do very well together; but resist me, and the consequences shall
+fall heavily on you, and your family likewise.' 'I will tell my dear
+father of your conduct,' sobbed I; 'he will avenge me, and the laws will
+punish you.' M. Ferrand looked at me as though at a loss to comprehend
+me. 'Why, you have lost your senses,' cried he; 'what, in Heaven's name,
+can you tell your father? That you thought proper to invite me to your
+bedroom? But, invent any tale you please, you will soon find what sort
+of a reception it will meet with. Why, your father will not look at you,
+much more believe you.' 'But you know,' cried I, 'you well know, sir, I
+gave no permission for your being here. You are well aware you entered
+my chamber without my knowledge, and are now here against my will.'
+'Against your will! And is it possible you have the effrontery to utter
+such a falsehood, to dare insinuate that I have employed force to gain
+my ends? Do you wish to be convinced of the folly of such an imputation?
+Why, by my orders, Germain, my cashier, returned here last night at ten
+o'clock to complete some very important papers, and until one o'clock
+this morning he was writing in the chamber directly under yours; would
+he not then have been sure to have heard the slightest sound, much less
+the repetition of such a struggle as we had together a little while ago,
+my saucy little beauty, when you were not quite in as complying a humour
+as I found you in last evening? Germain must have heard you during the
+stillness of the night had you but called for assistance. Ask him, when
+you see him, whether any such sound occurred; he will tell you no, and
+that he worked on uninterruptedly during the very hours you are accusing
+me of forcibly entering your bedchamber.'"
+
+"Ah!" cried Rodolph, "the villain had evidently taken every precaution
+to prevent detection."
+
+"He had, indeed. As for me, sir," continued Louise, "I was so
+thunderstruck with horror at these assertions of M. Ferrand, that I knew
+not what to reply. Ignorant of my having taken anything to induce sleep,
+I felt wholly unable to account for my having slept so unusually heavy
+and long. Appearances were strongly against me; what would it avail for
+me to publish the dreadful story? No one would believe me innocent. How,
+indeed, could I hope or expect they should, when even to myself the
+events of that fatal night continued an impenetrable mystery?"
+
+Even Rodolph remained speechless with horror at this fearful revelation
+of the diabolical hypocrisy of M. Ferrand.
+
+"Then," said he, after a pause of some minutes, "you never ventured to
+inform your father of the infamous treatment you had received?"
+
+"No," answered she, "for I dreaded lest he might suppose I had willingly
+listened to the persuasions of my master; and I also feared that, in the
+first burst of his indignation, my poor father would forget that not
+only his own freedom, but the very existence of his family, depended
+upon the pleasure of M. Ferrand."
+
+"And probably," continued Rodolph, desirous if possible to save Louise
+the painful confession, "probably, yielding to constraint, and the dread
+of endangering the safety of your father and family by a refusal, you
+continued to be the victim of this monster's brutality?"
+
+Louise spoke not, but her cast-down eyes, and the deep blushes which
+dyed her pale cheek, answered most painfully in the affirmative.
+
+"And was his conduct afterwards less barbarous and unfeeling than
+before?"
+
+"Not in the least. And when, by chance, my master had the curé and
+vicaire of Bonne Nouvelle to dine with him, the better to avert all
+suspicion from himself, he would scold me severely in their presence,
+and even beg M. le Curé to admonish me, assuring him that some day or
+other I should fall into ruin; that I was a girl of free and bold
+manners, and that he could not make me keep my distance with the young
+men in his office; that I was an idle, unworthy person, whom he only
+kept out of charity and pity for my father, who was an honest man with a
+large family, whom he had greatly served and obliged. With the exception
+of that part of the statement which referred to my father, the rest was
+utterly false. I never, by any chance, saw the clerks belonging to his
+office, as it was situated in a building entirely detached from the
+house."
+
+"And, when alone with M. Ferrand, how did he account for his treatment
+of you before the curé?"
+
+"He assured me he was only jesting. However, the curé believed him, and
+reprehended me very severely, saying that a person must be vicious
+indeed to go astray in so godly a household, where I had none but the
+most holy and religious examples before my eyes. I knew not what answer
+to make to this address; I felt my cheeks burn and my eyes involuntarily
+cast down. All these indications of shame and confusion were construed
+to my disadvantage, until, at length, sick at heart, and weary, and
+disgusted, my very life seemed a burden to me, and many times I felt
+tempted to destroy myself; but the thoughts of my parents, my poor
+brothers and sisters, that my small earnings helped to maintain,
+deterred me from ending my sorrows by death. I therefore resigned myself
+to my wretched fate, finding one consolation, amidst the degradation of
+my lot, in the thought that, at least, I had preserved my father from
+the horrors of a prison. But a fresh misfortune overwhelmed me; I became
+_enceinte_. I now felt myself lost indeed. A secret presentiment assured
+me that, when M. Ferrand became aware of a circumstance which ought, at
+least, to have rendered him less harsh and cruel, he would treat me
+even more unkindly than before. I was still, however, far from expecting
+what afterwards occurred."
+
+At this moment, Morel, recovering from his temporary abstraction, gazed
+around him, as though trying to collect his ideas, then, pressing his
+hand upon his forehead, looked at his daughter with an inquiring glance,
+and said:
+
+"I fancy I have been ill, or something is wrong with my
+head--grief--fatigue--tell me, my child--what were you saying just now?
+I seem almost unable to recollect."
+
+"When," continued Louise, unheeding her father's look, "when M. Ferrand
+discovered that I was likely to become a mother--"
+
+Here the lapidary waved his hand in despairing agony, but Rodolph calmed
+him by an imploring look.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Morel, "let me hear all; 'tis fit and right the tale
+should be told. Go on, go on, my girl, and I will listen from beginning
+to end."
+
+Louise went on. "I besought M. Ferrand to tell me by what means I should
+conceal my shame, and the consequence of a crime of which he was the
+author. Alas, dear father, I can scarcely hope or believe you will
+credit what I am about to tell you."
+
+"What did he say? Speak."
+
+"Interrupting me with much indignation and well-feigned surprise, he
+affected not to understand my meaning, and even inquired whether I had
+not lost my senses. Terrified, I exclaimed, 'Oh, sir, what is to become
+of me? Alas, if you have no pity on me, pity at least the poor infant
+that must soon see the light!'
+
+"'What a lost, depraved character!' cried M. Ferrand, raising his
+clasped hands towards heaven. 'Horrible, indeed! Why, you poor, wretched
+girl, is it possible that you have the audacity to accuse me of
+disgracing myself by any illicit acquaintance with a person of your
+infamous description? Can it be that you have the hardihood to lay the
+fruits of your immoral conduct and gross irregularity at my door,--I,
+who have repeated a hundred times, in the presence of respectable
+witnesses, that you would come to ruin some day, vile profligate that
+you are? Quit my house this instant, or I will drive you out!'"
+
+Rodolph and Morel were struck with horror; a system of wickedness like
+this seemed to freeze their blood.
+
+"By Heaven!" said Rodolph, "this surpasses any horrors that imagination
+could have conceived."
+
+Morel did not speak, but his eyes expanded fearfully, whilst a
+convulsive spasm contracted his features. He quitted the stool on which
+he was sitting, opened a drawer suddenly, and, taking out a long and
+very sharp file, fixed in a wooden handle, he rushed towards the door.
+Rodolph, guessing his thoughts, seized his arm, and stopped his
+progress.
+
+"Morel, where are you going? You will do a mischief, unhappy man!"
+
+"Take care," exclaimed the infuriated artisan, struggling, "or I shall
+commit two crimes instead of one!" and the madman threatened Rodolph.
+
+"Father, it is our benefactor!" exclaimed Louise.
+
+"He is jesting at us; he wants to save the notary," replied Morel, quite
+crazed, and struggling with Rodolph. At the end of a second, the latter
+disarmed him, carefully opened the door, and threw the file out on the
+staircase. Louise ran to the lapidary, embraced him, and said:
+
+"Father, it is our benefactor! You have raised your hand against
+him,--recover yourself."
+
+These words recalled Morel to himself, and hiding his face in his hands,
+he fell mutely on his knees before Rodolph.
+
+[Illustration: _Morel fell back on the stool._
+Original Etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+"Rise, rise, unhappy father," said Rodolph, in accents of great
+kindness; "be patient, be patient, I understand your wrath and share
+your hatred; but, in the name of your vengeance, do not compromise your
+daughter!"
+
+"Louise!--my daughter!" cried the lapidary, rising, "but what can
+justice--the law--do against that? We are but poor wretches, and were we
+to accuse this rich, powerful, and respected man, we should be laughed
+to scorn. Ha! ha! ha!" and he laughed convulsively, "and they would be
+right. Where would be our proofs?--yes, our proofs? No one would believe
+us. So, I tell you--I tell you," he added, with increased fury, "I tell
+you that I have no confidence but in the impartiality of my knife."
+
+"Silence, Morel! your grief distracts you," said Rodolph to him
+sorrowfully; "let your daughter speak; the moments are precious; the
+magistrate waits; I must know all,--all, I tell you; go on, my child."
+
+Morel fell back on the stool, overwhelmed with his anguish.
+
+"It is useless, sir," continued Louise, "to tell you of my tears, my
+prayers. I was thunderstruck. This took place at ten o'clock in the
+morning in M. Ferrand's private room. The curate was coming to breakfast
+with him, and entered at the moment when my master was assailing me with
+reproach and accusations. He appeared much put out at the sight of the
+priest."
+
+"What occurred then?"
+
+"Oh, he soon recovered himself, and exclaimed, call him by name, 'Well,
+Monsieur l'Abbé, I said so, I said this unhappy girl would be undone.
+She is ruined, ruined for ever; she has just confessed to me her fault
+and her shame, and entreated me to save her. Only think that, from
+commiseration, I have received such a wanton into my house!' 'How,' said
+the abbé to me with indignation, 'in spite of the excellent counsels
+which your master has given you a hundred times in my presence, have
+you really sunk so low? Oh, it is unpardonable! My friend, my friend,
+after the kindness you have evinced towards this wretched girl and her
+family, any pity would be weakness. Be inexorable,' said the abbé, the
+dupe, like the rest of the world, of M. Ferrand's hypocrisy."
+
+"And you did not unmask the scoundrel on the spot?" asked Rodolph.
+
+"Ah, no! monsieur, I was terrified, my head was in a whirl, I did not
+dare, I could not pronounce a word,--yet I was anxious to speak and
+defend myself. 'But sir--' I cried. 'Not one word more, unworthy
+creature,' said M. Ferrand, interrupting me. 'You heard M. l'Abbé. Pity
+would be weakness. In an hour you leave my house!' Then, without
+allowing me time to reply, he led the abbé into another room. After the
+departure of M. Ferrand," resumed Louise, "I was almost bereft of my
+senses for a moment. I was driven from his house, and unable to find any
+home elsewhere, in consequence of my condition, and the bad character
+which my master would give with me. I felt sure, too, that in his rage
+he would send my father to prison; and I did not know what to do. I went
+to my room, and there I wept bitterly. At the end of two hours M.
+Ferrand appeared. 'Is your bundle made up?' said he. 'Pardon,' I
+exclaimed, falling at his feet, 'do not turn me from your house in my
+present condition. What will become of me? I have no place to turn to.'
+'So much the better; this is the way that God punishes loose behaviour
+and falsehood.' 'Dare you say that I tell falsehood?' I asked,
+indignantly, 'dare you say that it is not you who have caused my ruin?'
+'Leave my house this moment, you wretch, since you persist in your
+calumnies!' he replied in a terrible voice; 'and to punish you I will
+to-morrow send your father to the gaol.' 'Well, no, no!' said I,
+terrified; 'I will not again accuse you, sir; that I promise you; but
+do not drive me away from the house. Have pity on my father. The little
+I earn here helps to support my family. Keep me here; I will say
+nothing. I will endeavour to hide every thing; and when I can no longer
+do so, oh, then, but not till then, send me away!' After fresh
+entreaties on my part, M. Ferrand consented to keep me with him; and I
+considered that a great favour in my wretched condition. During the time
+that followed this cruel scene, I was most wretched, and miserably
+treated; only sometimes M. Germain, whom I seldom saw, kindly asked me
+what made me unhappy; but shame prevented me from confessing anything to
+him."
+
+"Was not that about the time when he came to reside here?"
+
+"Yes, sir, he was looking out for an apartment near the Rue du Temple or
+de l'Arsenal. There was one to let here, and I told him of that one
+which you now occupy, sir, and it suited him exactly. When he quitted
+it, about two months ago, he begged me not to mention his new address
+here, but that they knew it at M. Ferrand's."
+
+The necessity under which Germain was to conceal himself from those who
+were trying to find him explained all these precautions to Rodolph.
+
+"And it never occurred to you to make a confidant of Germain?" he said
+to Louise.
+
+"No, sir, he was also a dupe to the hypocrisy of M. Ferrand; he called
+him harsh and exacting; but he thought him the honestest man on the face
+of the earth."
+
+"When Germain was lodging here, did he never hear your father at times
+accuse the notary of desiring to seduce you?"
+
+"My father never expressed his fears before strangers; and besides, at
+this period, I deceived his uneasiness, and comforted him by the
+assurances that M. Ferrand no longer thought of me. Alas! my poor father
+will now forgive me those falsehoods? I only employed them to
+tranquillise your mind, father dear, that was all."
+
+Morel made no reply; he only leaned his forehead on his two arms,
+crossed on his working-board, and sobbed bitterly.
+
+Rodolph made a sign to Louise not to address herself to her father, and
+she continued thus:
+
+"I led from this time a life of tears and perpetual anguish. By using
+every precaution, I had contrived to conceal my condition from all eyes;
+but I could not hope thus to hide it during the last two months. The
+future became more and more alarming to me, as M. Ferrand had declared
+that he would not keep me any longer in the house; and therefore I
+should be deprived of the small resources which assisted our family to
+live. Cursed and driven from my home by my father, for, after the
+falsehoods I had told him to set his mind at ease, he would believe me
+the accomplice, and not the victim of M. Ferrand, what was to become of
+me? where could I find refuge or place myself in my condition? I then
+had a criminal idea; but, fortunately, I recoiled from putting it into
+execution. I confess this to you, sir, because I will not keep any thing
+concealed, not even that which may tell against myself; and thus I may
+show you the extremities to which I was reduced by the cruelty of M.
+Ferrand. If I had given way to such a thought, would he not have been
+the accomplice of my crime?"
+
+After a moment's silence, Louise resumed with great effort, and in a
+trembling voice:
+
+"I had heard say by the porteress that a quack doctor lived in the
+house,--and,--"
+
+She could not finish.
+
+Rodolph recollected that, at his first interview with Madame Pipelet, he
+had received from the postman, in her absence, a letter written on
+coarse paper, in a feigned hand, and on which he had remarked the traces
+of tears.
+
+"And you wrote to him, unhappy girl, three days since? You wept over
+your letter; and the handwriting was disguised."
+
+Louise looked at Rodolph in great consternation.
+
+"How did you know that, sir?"
+
+"Do not alarm yourself; I was alone in Madame Pipelet's lodge when they
+brought in the letter; and I remarked it quite accidentally."
+
+"Yes, sir, it was mine. In this letter, which bore no signature, I wrote
+to M. Bradamanti, saying that, as I did not dare to go to him, I would
+beg him to be in the evening near the Château d'Eau. I had lost my
+senses. I sought fearful advice from him; and I left my master's house
+with the intention of following them; but, at the end of a minute, my
+reason returned to me, and I saw what a crime I was about to commit. I
+returned to the house, and did not attend the appointment I had written
+for. That evening an event occurred, the consequences of which caused
+the misfortune which has overwhelmed me. M. Ferrand thought I had gone
+out for a couple of hours, whilst, in reality, I had been gone but a
+very short time. As I passed before the small garden gate, to my great
+surprise I saw it half open. I entered by it, and took the key into M.
+Ferrand's private room, where it was usually kept. This apartment was
+next to his bedroom, the most retired place in the house; and it was
+there he had his private meetings with clients and others, transacting
+his every-day business in the office. You will see, sir, why I give you
+these particulars. As I very well knew the ways of the apartments, after
+having crossed the dining-room, which was lighted up, I entered into the
+salon without any candle, and then into the little closet, which was on
+this side of his sleeping-room. The door of this latter opened at the
+moment when I was putting the key on a table; and the moment my master
+saw me by the light of the lamp, which was burning in his chamber, then
+he suddenly shut the door on some person whom I could not see, and
+then, in spite of the darkness, rushed towards me and, seizing me by the
+throat as if he would strangle me, said, in a low voice, and in a tone
+at once savage and alarmed, 'What! listening!--spying at the door! What
+did you hear? Answer me,--answer directly, or I'll strangle you.' But,
+suddenly changing his idea, and not giving me time to say a word, he
+drove me back into the dining-room; the office door was open, and he
+brutally thrust me in and shut the door."
+
+"And you did not hear the conversation?"
+
+"Not a word, sir; if I had known that there was any one in his room with
+him, I should have been careful not to have gone there. He even forbade
+Madame Séraphin from doing so."
+
+"And, when you left the office, what did he say to you?"
+
+"It was the housekeeper who let me out, and I did not see M. Ferrand
+again that night. His violence to me, and the fright I had undergone,
+made me very ill indeed. The next day, at the moment when I went
+down-stairs, I met M. Ferrand, and I shuddered when I remembered his
+threats of the night before; what then was my surprise when he said to
+me calmly, 'You knew that I forbid any one to enter my private room when
+I have any person there; but, for the short time longer you will stay
+here, it is useless to scold you any more.' And then he went into his
+study. This mildness astonished me after his violence of the previous
+evening. I went on with my work as usual, and was going to put his
+bedchamber to rights. I had suffered a great deal all night, and was
+weak and exhausted. Whilst I was hanging up some clothes in a dark
+closet at the end of the room near the bed, I was suddenly seized with a
+painful giddiness, and felt as if I should lose my senses; as I fell, I
+tried to support myself by grasping at a large cloak which hung against
+the wainscot; but in my fall I drew this cloak down on me, and was
+almost entirely covered by it. When I came to myself, the glass door of
+the above closet was shut. I heard M. Ferrand's voice,--he was speaking
+aloud. Remembering the scene of the previous evening, I thought I should
+be killed if I stirred. I suppose that, hidden by the cloak which had
+fallen on me, my master did not perceive me when he shut the door of
+this dark wardrobe. If he found me, how could I account for, and make
+him believe, this singular accident? I, therefore, held my breath, and
+in spite of myself, overheard the conclusion of this conversation which,
+no doubt had begun some time."
+
+"And who was the person who was talking with the notary and shut up in
+this room with him?" inquired Rodolph of Louise.
+
+"I do not know, sir; I did not recognise the voice."
+
+"And what were they saying?"
+
+"No doubt they had been conversing some time; but all I heard was this:
+'Nothing more easy,' said the unknown voice; 'a fellow named Bras Rouge
+has put me, for the affair I mentioned to you just now, in connection
+with a family of "fresh-water pirates,"[1] established on the point of a
+small islet near Asničres. They are the greatest scoundrels on earth;
+the father and grandfather were guillotined; two of the sons were
+condemned to the galleys for life; but there are still left a mother,
+three sons, and two daughters, all as infamous as they can possibly be.
+They say that at night, in order to plunder on both sides of the Seine,
+they sometimes come down in their boats as low as Bercy. They are
+ruffians, who will kill any one for a crown-piece; but we shall not want
+their aid further than their hospitality for your lady from the country.
+The Martials--that is the name of these pirates--will pass in her eyes
+for an honest family of fishers. I will go, as if from you, to pay two
+or three visits to your young lady. I will order her a few comforting
+draughts; and at the end of a week or ten days, she will form an
+acquaintance with the burial-ground of Asničres. In villages, deaths are
+looked on as nothing more than a letter by the post, whilst in Paris
+they are a little more curious in such matters. But when do you send
+your young lady from the provinces to the isle of Asničres, for I must
+give the Martials notice of the part they have to play?' 'She will
+arrive here to-morrow, and next day I shall send her to them,' replied
+M. Ferrand; 'and I shall tell her that Doctor Vincent will pay her a
+visit at my request.' 'Ah, Vincent will do as well as any other name,'
+said the voice."
+
+  [1] We shall hear more particulars of these worthies in another
+  chapter.
+
+"What new mystery of crime and infamy?" said Rodolph, with increased
+astonishment.
+
+"New? No, sir, you will see that it is in connection with another crime
+that you know of," resumed Louise, who thus continued: "I heard a
+movement of chairs,--the interview had ended. 'I do not ask the secret
+of you,' said M. Ferrand, 'you behave to me as I behave to you.' 'Thus
+we may mutually serve without any power mutually to injure each other,'
+answered the voice. 'Observe my zeal! I received your letter at ten
+o'clock last night, and here I am this morning. Good-by, accomplice; do
+not forget the isle of Asničres, the fisher Martial, and Doctor Vincent.
+Thanks to these three magic words, your country damsel has only eight
+days to look forward to.' 'Wait,' said M. Ferrand, 'whilst I go and undo
+the safety-bolt, which I have drawn to in my closet, and let me look out
+and see that there is no one in the antechamber, in order that you may
+go out by the side path in the garden by which you entered.' M. Ferrand
+went out for a moment, and then returned; and I heard him go away with
+the person whose voice I did not know. You may imagine my fright, sir,
+during this conversation, and my despair at having unintentionally
+discovered such a secret. Two hours after this conversation, Madame
+Séraphin came to me in my room, whither I had gone, trembling all over,
+and worse than I had been yet. 'My master is inquiring for you,' said
+she to me; 'you are better off than you deserve to be. Come, go
+down-stairs. You are very pale; but what you are going to hear will give
+you a colour.' I followed Madame Séraphin, and found M. Ferrand in his
+private study. When I saw him, I shuddered in spite of myself, and yet
+he did not look so disagreeable as usual. He looked at me steadfastly
+for some time, as if he would read the bottom of my thoughts. I lowered
+my eyes. 'You seem very ill?' he said. 'Yes, sir,' I replied, much
+surprised at being thus addressed. 'It is easily accounted for,' added
+he; 'it is the result of your condition and the efforts you make to
+conceal it; but, in spite of your falsehoods, your bad conduct, and your
+indiscretion yesterday,' he added, in a milder tone, 'I feel pity for
+you. A few days more, and it will be impossible to conceal your
+situation. Although I have treated you as you deserve before the curate
+of the parish, such an event in the eyes of the world will be the
+disgrace of a house like mine; and, moreover, your family will be deeply
+distressed. Under these circumstances I will come to your aid.' 'Ah!
+sir,' I cried, 'such kind words from you make me forget everything.'
+'Forget what?' asked he, hastily. 'Nothing,--nothing,--forgive me, sir!'
+I replied, fearful of irritating him, and believing him kindly disposed
+towards me. 'Then attend to me,' said he; 'you will go to see your
+father to-day, and tell him that I am going to send you into the country
+for two or three months, to take care of a house which I have just
+bought. During your absence I will send your wages to him. To-morrow you
+will leave Paris. I will give you a letter of introduction to Madame
+Martial, the mother of an honest family of fishers, who live near
+Asničres. You will say you came from the country and nothing more. You
+will learn hereafter my motive for this introduction, which is for your
+good. Madame Martial will treat you as one of the family, and a medical
+man of my acquaintance, Dr. Vincent, will give you all you require in
+your situation. You see how kind I am to you!'"
+
+"What a horrible snare!" exclaimed Rodolph; "I see it all now. Believing
+that overnight you had listened to some secret, no doubt very important
+for him, he desired to get rid of you. He had probably an interest in
+deceiving his accomplice by describing you as a female from the country.
+What must have been your alarm at this proposal?"
+
+"It was like a violent blow; it quite bereft me of sense. I could not
+reply, but looked at M. Ferrand aghast; my head began to wander. I
+should, perhaps, have risked my life by telling him that I had overheard
+his projects in the morning, when fortunately I recollected the fresh
+perils to which such an avowal would expose me. 'You do not understand
+me, then?' he said, impatiently. 'Yes, sir,--but,' I added, all
+trembling, 'I should prefer not going into the country.' 'Why not? You
+will be taken every care of where I send you.' 'No, no, I will not go; I
+would rather remain in Paris, and not go away from my family; I would
+rather confess all to them, and die with them, if it must be so.' 'You
+refuse me, then?' said M. Ferrand, repressing his rage, and looking
+fixedly at me. 'Why have you so suddenly changed your mind? Not a minute
+ago you accepted my offer.' I saw that if he guessed my motive I was
+lost, so I replied that I did not then think that he desired me to leave
+Paris and my family. 'But you dishonour your family, you wretched girl!'
+he exclaimed, and unable any longer to restrain himself, he seized me by
+the arms, and shook me so violently that I fell. 'I will give you until
+the day after to-morrow,' he cried, 'and then you shall go from here to
+the Martials, or go and inform your father that I have turned you out of
+my house, and will send him to gaol to-morrow.' He then left me,
+stretched on the floor, whence I had not the power to rise. Madame
+Séraphin had run in when she heard her master raise his voice so loud,
+and with her assistance, and staggering at every step, I regained my
+chamber, where I threw myself on my bed, and remained until night, so
+entirely was I prostrated by all that had happened. By the pains that
+came on about one o'clock in the morning, I felt assured that I should
+be prematurely a mother."
+
+"Why did you not summon assistance?"
+
+"Oh, I did not dare. M. Ferrand was anxious to get rid of me, and he
+would certainly have sent for Dr. Vincent, who would have killed me at
+my master's instead of killing me at the Martials, or else M. Ferrand
+would have stifled me, and said that I had died in my confinement. Alas,
+sir, perhaps these were vain terrors, but they came over me at this
+moment and caused my suffering; otherwise I would have endured the
+shame, and should never have been accused of killing my child. Instead
+of calling for help, and for fear my cries should be heard, I stuffed my
+mouth full with the bedclothes. At length, after dreadful anguish,
+alone, in the midst of darkness, the child was born, and,--dead,--I did
+not kill it!--indeed, I did not kill it,--ah, no! In the midst of this
+fearful night I had one moment of bitter joy, and that was when I
+pressed my child in my arms."
+
+And the voice of Louise was stifled with sobs.
+
+Morel had listened to his daughter's recital with a mournful apathy and
+indifference which alarmed Rodolph. However, seeing her burst into
+tears, the lapidary, who was still leaning on his work-board with his
+two hands pressed against his temples, looked at Louise steadfastly, and
+said:
+
+"She weeps,--she weeps,--why is she weeping?" Then, after a moment's
+hesitation, "Ah, yes,--I know, I know,--the notary,--isn't it? Go on my
+poor Louise,--you are my daughter,--I love you still,--just now I did
+not recognise you,--my eyes were darkened with my tears,--oh, my
+head,--how badly it aches,--my head, my head!"
+
+"You do not believe me guilty, do you, father, do you?"
+
+"Oh, no, no!"
+
+"It is a terrible misfortune; but I was so fearful of the notary."
+
+"The notary? Ah, yes, and well you might be; he is so wicked, so very
+wicked!"
+
+"But you will forgive me now?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"Really and truly?"
+
+"Yes--ah, yes! Ah! I love you the same as ever,--although I cannot--not
+say--you see--because--oh, my head, my head!"
+
+Louise looked at Rodolph in extreme alarm.
+
+"He is suffering deeply; but let him calm himself. Go on."
+
+Louise, after looking twice or thrice at Morel with great disquietude,
+thus resumed:
+
+"I clasped my infant to my breast, and was astonished at not hearing it
+breathe. I said to myself, 'The breathing of a baby is so faint that it
+is difficult to hear it.' But then it was so cold. I had no light, for
+they never would leave one with me. I waited until the dawn came, trying
+to keep it warm as well as I could; but it seemed to me colder and
+colder. I said to myself then; 'It freezes so hard that it must be the
+cold that chills it so.' At daybreak I carried my child to the window
+and looked at it; it was stiff and cold. I placed my mouth to its mouth,
+to try and feel its breath. I put my hand on its heart; but it did not
+beat; it was dead."
+
+And Louise burst into tears.
+
+"Oh! at this moment," she continued, "something passed within me which
+it is impossible to describe. I only remember confusedly what
+followed,--it was like a dream,--it was at once despair, terror, rage,
+and above all, I was seized with another fear; I no longer feared M.
+Ferrand would strangle me, but I feared that, if they found my child
+dead by my side, I should be accused of having killed it. Then I had but
+one thought, and that was to conceal the corpse from everybody's sight;
+and then my dishonour would not be known, and I should no longer have to
+dread my father's anger. I should escape from M. Ferrand's vengeance,
+because I could now leave his house, obtain another situation, and gain
+something to help and support my family. Alas! sir, such were the
+reasons which induced me not to say any thing, but try and hide my
+child's remains from all eyes. I was wrong, I know; but, in the
+situation in which I was, oppressed on all sides, worn out by suffering,
+and almost mad, I did not consider to what I exposed myself if I should
+be discovered."
+
+"What torture! what torture!" said Rodolph with deep sympathy.
+
+"The day was advancing," continued Louise, "and I had but a few moments
+before me until the household would be stirring. I hesitated no longer,
+but, wrapping up the unhappy babe as well as I could, I descended the
+staircase silently, and went to the bottom of the garden to try and make
+a hole in the ground to bury it; but it had frozen so hard in the night
+that I could not dig up the earth. So I concealed the body in the bottom
+of a sort of cellar, into which no one entered during the winter, and
+then I covered it up with an empty box which had held flowers, and
+returned to my apartment, without any person having seen me. Of all I
+tell you, sir, I have but a very confused recollection. Weak as I was,
+it is inexplicable to me how I had strength and courage to do all I did.
+At nine o'clock Madame Séraphin came to inquire why I had not risen. I
+told her that I was so very ill, and prayed of her to allow me to remain
+in bed during the day, and that on the following day I should quit the
+house, as M. Ferrand had dismissed me. At the end of an hour's time, he
+came himself. 'You are worse to-day. Ah! that is the consequence of your
+obstinacy,' said he; 'if you had taken advantage of my kind offer, you
+would to-day have been comfortably settled with some worthy people, who
+would have taken every care of you; but I will not be so cruel as to
+leave you without help in your present situation; and this evening
+Doctor Vincent shall come and see you.' At this threat I shuddered; but
+I replied to M. Ferrand that I was wrong to refuse his offers the
+evening before, and that I would now accept them; but that, being too
+ill to move then, I could not go until the day after the next to the
+Martials, and that it was useless to send for Doctor Vincent. I only
+sought to gain time, for I had made up my mind to leave the house, and
+go the next day to my father, whom I hoped to keep in ignorance of all.
+Relying on my promise, M. Ferrand was almost kind to me, and, for the
+first time in his life, recommended Madame Séraphin to take care of me.
+I passed the day in mental agony, trembling every instant lest the body
+of my child should be accidentally discovered. I was only anxious that
+the frost should break up, so that, the ground not being so hard, I
+might be able to dig it up. The snow began to fall, and that gave me
+some hopes. I remained all day in bed, and when the night came, I waited
+until every one should be asleep, and then I summoned strength enough to
+rise and go to the wood-closet, where I found a chopper, with which I
+hoped to dig a hole in the ground which was covered with snow. After
+immense trouble I succeeded, and then, taking the body, I wept bitterly
+over it, and buried it as well as I could in the little box that had
+held flowers. I did not know the prayer for the dead; but I said a Pater
+and an Ave, and prayed to the good God to receive it into Paradise. I
+thought my courage would fail me when I was covering the mould over the
+sort of bier I had made. A mother burying her own child! At length I
+completed my task, and ah, what it cost me! I covered the place all over
+with snow, that it might conceal every trace of what I had done. The
+moon had lighted me; yet, when all was done, I could hardly resolve to
+go away. Poor little innocent!--in the icy ground,--beneath the snow!
+Although it was dead, yet I still seemed to fear that it must feel the
+cold. At length I returned to my chamber; and when I got into bed I was
+in a violent fever. In the morning M. Ferrand sent to know how I found
+myself. I replied that I was a little better, and that I felt sure I
+should be strong enough to go next day into the country. I remained the
+whole of the day in bed, hoping to acquire a little strength, and in the
+evening I arose and went down into the kitchen to warm myself. I was
+then quite alone, and then went out into the garden to to say a last
+prayer. As I went up to my room I met M. Germain on the landing-place of
+the study in which he wrote sometimes, looking very pale. He said to me
+hastily, placing a rouleau of money in my hand, 'They are going to
+arrest your father to-morrow morning for an over-due bill of thirteen
+hundred francs; he is unable to pay it; but here is the money. As soon
+as it is light, run to him. It was only to-day that I found out what
+sort of a man M. Ferrand is; and he is a villain. I will unmask him.
+Above all, do not say that you have the money from me.'
+
+"M. Germain did not even give me time to thank him, but ran quickly
+down-stairs. This morning," continued Louise, "before any one had risen
+at M. Ferrand's, I came here with the money which M. Germain had given
+me to save my father; but it was not enough, and but for your
+generosity, I could not have rescued him from the bailiff's hands.
+Probably, after I had left, they went into my room and, having
+suspicions, have now sent to arrest me. One last service, sir," said
+Louise, taking the rouleau of gold from her pocket, "will you give back
+this money to M. Germain; I had promised him not to say to any one that
+he was employed at M. Ferrand's; but, since you know it, I have not
+broken my confidence. Now, sir, I repeat to you before God, who hears
+me, that I have not said a word that is not quite true; I have not tried
+to hide my faults, and--"
+
+But, suddenly interrupting herself, Louise exclaimed with alarm:
+
+"Sir, sir, look at my father! what can be the matter with him?"
+
+Morel had heard the latter part of this narration with a dull
+indifference, which Rodolph had accounted for by attributing it to the
+heavy additional misfortune which had occurred to him. After such
+violent and repeated shocks, his tears must have dried up, his
+sensibility have become lost; he had not even the strength left to feel
+anger, as Rodolph thought; but Rodolph was mistaken. As the flame of a
+candle which is nearly extinguished dies away and recovers, so Morel's
+reason, already much shaken, wavered for some time, throwing out now and
+then some small rays of intelligence, and then suddenly all was
+darkness.
+
+Absolutely unconscious of what was said or passing around him, for some
+time the lapidary had become quite insane. Although his hand-wheel was
+placed on the other side of his working-table, and he had not in his
+hands either stones or tools, yet the occupied artisan was feigning the
+operations of his daily labour, and affecting to use his implements. He
+accompanied this pantomime with a sort of noise with his tongue against
+the roof of his mouth, in imitation of the noise of his lathe in its
+rotatory motions.
+
+"But, sir," said Louise again, with increasing fright, "look, pray look
+at my father!"
+
+Then, approaching the artisan, she said to him:
+
+"Father! father!"
+
+Morel gazed on his daughter with that troubled, vague, distracted,
+wandering look which characterises the insane, and without discontinuing
+his assumed labour, he replied, in a low and melancholy tone:
+
+"I owe the notary thirteen hundred francs; it is the price of Louise's
+blood,--so I must work, work, work!--oh, I'll pay, I'll pay, I'll pay!"
+
+"Can it be possible? This cannot be,--he is not mad,--no, no!" exclaimed
+Louise, in a heart-rending voice. "He will recover,--it is but a
+momentary fit of absence!"
+
+"Morel, my good fellow," said Rodolph to him, "we are here. Your
+daughter is near you,--she is innocent."
+
+"Thirteen hundred francs!" said the lapidary, not attending to Rodolph,
+but going on with his sham employment.
+
+"My father!" exclaimed Louise, throwing herself at his feet, and
+clasping his hands in her own, in spite of his resistance, "it is I--it
+is your Louise!"
+
+"Thirteen hundred francs," he repeated, wresting his hands from the
+grasp of his daughter. "Thirteen hundred francs,--and if not," he added,
+in a low and as it were, confidential tone, "and if not, Louise is to be
+guillotined."
+
+And again he imitated the turning of his lathe.
+
+Louise gave a piercing shriek.
+
+"He is mad!" she exclaimed, "he is mad! and it is I--it is I who am the
+cause! Oh! Yet it is not my fault,--I did not desire to do ill,--it was
+that monster."
+
+"Courage, courage, my poor girl," said Rodolph, "let us hope that this
+attack is but momentary. Your father has suffered so much; so many
+troubles, all at once, were more than he could bear. His reason wanders
+for a moment; it will soon be restored."
+
+"But my mother, my grandmother, my sisters, my brothers, what will
+become of them all?" exclaimed Louise, "Now they are deprived of my
+father and myself, they must die of hunger, misery and despair!"
+
+"Am I not here?--make your mind, easy; they shall want for nothing.
+Courage, I say to you. Your disclosure will bring about the punishment
+of a great criminal. You have convinced me of your innocence, and I have
+no doubt but that it will be discovered and proclaimed."
+
+"Ah, sir, you see,--dishonour, madness, death,--see the miseries which
+that man causes, and yet no one can do any thing against him! Nothing!
+The very thought completes all my wretchedness."
+
+"So far from that, let the contrary thought help to support you."
+
+"What mean you, sir?"
+
+"Take with you the assurance that your father, yourself, and your family
+shall be avenged."
+
+"Avenged!"
+
+"Yes, that I swear to you," replied Rodolph, solemnly; "I swear to you
+that his crimes shall be exposed, and this man shall bitterly expiate
+the dishonour, madness, and death which he has caused. If the laws are
+powerless to reach him, if his cunning and skill equal his misdeeds,
+then his cunning must be met by cunning, his skill must be counteracted
+by skill, his misdeeds faced by other misdeeds, but which shall be to
+his but a just and avenging retribution, inflicted on a guilty wretch by
+an inexorable hand, when compared to a cowardly and base murder."
+
+"Ah, sir, may Heaven hear you! It is no longer myself whom I seek to
+avenge, but a poor, distracted father,--my child killed in its birth--"
+
+Then, trying another effort to turn Morel from his insanity, Louise
+again exclaimed:
+
+"Adieu, father! They are going to lead me to prison, and I shall never
+see you again. It is your poor Louise who bids you adieu. My father! my
+father! my father!"
+
+To this distressing appeal there was no response. In that poor,
+destroyed mind there was no echo,--none. The paternal cords, always the
+last broken, no longer vibrated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The door of the garret opened; the commissary entered.
+
+"My moments are numbered, sir," said he to Rodolph. "I declare to you
+with much regret that I cannot allow this conversation to be protracted
+any longer."
+
+"This conversation is ended, sir," replied Rodolph, bitterly, and
+pointing to the lapidary. "Louise has nothing more to say to her
+father,--he has nothing more to hear from his daughter,--he is a
+lunatic."
+
+"I feared as much. It is really frightful!" exclaimed the magistrate.
+
+And approaching the workman hastily, after a minute's scrutiny, he was
+convinced of the sad reality.
+
+"Ah, sir," said he sorrowfully to Rodolph, "I had already expressed my
+sincerest wishes that the innocence of this young girl might be
+discovered; but after such a misfortune I will not confine myself to
+good wishes,--no,--no! I will speak of this honest and distressed
+family; I will speak of this fearful and last blow which has overwhelmed
+it; and do not doubt but that the judges will have an additional motive
+to find the accused innocent."
+
+"Thanks, thanks, sir!" said Rodolph; "by acting thus it will not be a
+mere duty that you fulfil, but a holy office which you undertake."
+
+"Believe me, sir, our duty is always such a painful one that it is most
+grateful to us to be interested in any thing which is worthy and good."
+
+"One word more, sir. The disclosures of Louise Morel have fully
+convinced me of her innocence. Will you be so kind as inform me how her
+pretended crime was discovered, or rather denounced?"
+
+"This morning," said the magistrate, "a housekeeper in the service of M.
+Ferrand, the notary, came and deposed before me that, after the hasty
+departure of Louise Morel, whom she knew to be seven months advanced in
+the family way, she went into the young girl's apartment, and was
+convinced that she had been prematurely confined; footsteps had been
+traced in the snow, which had led to the detection of the body of a
+new-born child buried in the garden. After this declaration I went
+myself to the Rue du Sentier, and found M. Jacques Ferrand most
+indignant that such a scandalous affair should have happened in his
+house. The curé of the church Bonne Nouvelle, whom he had sent for, also
+declared to me that Louise Morel had owned her fault in his presence one
+day, when, on this account, she was imploring the indulgence and pity of
+her master; that, besides, he had often heard M. Ferrand give Louise
+Morel the most serious warnings, telling her that, sooner or later, she
+would be lost,--'a prediction,' added the abbé, 'which has been
+unfortunately fulfilled.' The indignation of M. Ferrand," continued the
+magistrate, "seemed to me so just and natural, that I shared in it. He
+told me that, no doubt, Louise Morel had taken refuge with her father. I
+came hither instantly, for the crime being flagrant, I was empowered to
+proceed by immediate apprehension."
+
+Rodolph with difficulty restrained himself when he heard of the
+indignation of M. Ferrand, and said to the magistrate:
+
+"I thank you a thousand times, sir, for your kindness, and the support
+you promise Louise. I will take care that this poor man, as well as his
+wife's mother, are sent to a lunatic asylum."
+
+Then, addressing Louise, who was still kneeling close to her father,
+endeavouring, but vainly, to recall him to his senses:
+
+"Make up your mind, my poor girl, to go without taking leave of your
+mother,--spare her the pain of such a parting. Be assured that she shall
+be taken care of, and nothing shall in future be wanting to your family,
+for a woman shall be found who will take care of your mother and occupy
+herself with your brothers, and sisters, under the superintendence of
+your kind neighbour, Mlle. Rigolette. As for your father, nothing shall
+be spared to make his return to reason as rapid as it is complete.
+Courage! Believe me, honest people are often severely tried by
+misfortune, but they always come out of these struggles more pure, more
+strong, and more respected."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two hours after the apprehension of Louise, the lapidary and the old
+idiot mother were, by Rodolph's orders, taken to the Bicętre by David,
+where they were to be kept in private rooms and to receive particular
+care. Morel left the house in the Rue du Temple without resistance;
+indifferent as he was, he went wherever they led him,--his lunacy was
+gentle, inoffensive, and melancholy. The grandmother was hungry, and
+when they showed her bread and meat she followed the bread and meat. The
+jewels of the lapidary, entrusted to his wife, were the same day given
+to Madame Mathieu (the jewel-matcher), who fetched them. Unfortunately
+she was watched and followed by Tortillard, who knew the value of the
+pretended false stones in consequence of the conversation he had
+overheard during the time Morel was arrested by the bailiffs. The son of
+Bras Rouge discovered that she lived, Boulevard Saint-Denis, No. 11.
+
+Rigolette apprised Madeleine Morel, with considerable delicacy, of the
+fit of lunacy which had attacked the lapidary, and of Louise's
+imprisonment. At first, Madeleine wept bitterly, and uttered terrible
+shrieks; then, the first burst of her grief over, the poor creature,
+weak and overcome, consoled herself as well as she could by seeing that
+she and her children were surrounded by the many comforts which she owed
+to the generosity of their benefactor.
+
+As to Rodolph, his thoughts were very poignant when he considered the
+disclosures of Louise. "Nothing is more common," he said, "than this
+corrupting of the female servant by the master, either by consent or
+against it; sometimes by terror and surprise, sometimes by the imperious
+nature of those relations which create servitude. This depravity,
+descending from the rich to the poor, despising (in its selfish desire)
+the sanctity of the domestic hearth,--this depravity, still most
+deplorable when it is voluntarily submitted to, becomes hideous,
+frightful, when it is satisfied with violence. It is an impure and
+brutal slavery, an ignoble and barbarous tyranny over a fellow-creature,
+who in her fright replies to the solicitations of her master by her
+tears, and to his declarations with a shudder of fear and disgust. And
+then," continued Rodolph, "what is the consequence to the female? Almost
+invariably there follow degradation, misery, prostitution, theft, and
+sometimes infanticide! And yet the laws are, as yet, strangers to this
+crime! Every accomplice of a crime has the punishment of that crime;
+every receiver is considered as guilty as the thief. That is justice.
+But when a man wantonly seduces a young, innocent, and pure girl,
+renders her a mother, abandons her, leaving her but shame, disgrace,
+despair, and driving her, perchance, to infanticide, a crime for which
+she forfeits her life, is this man considered as her accomplice? Pooh!
+What, then, follows? Oh, 'tis nothing,--nothing but a little
+love-affair! the whim of the day for a pair of bright eyes. Then she is
+left, and he looks out for the next. Still more, it is just possible
+that the man may be of an original, an inquisitive turn, perhaps, at
+the same time, an excellent brother and son, and may go to the bar of
+the criminal court and see his paramour tried for her life! If by chance
+he should be subpoenaed as a witness, he may amuse himself by saying
+to the persons desirous of having the poor girl executed as soon as
+possible, for the greater edification of the public morals, 'I have
+something important to disclose to justice.' 'Speak!' 'Gentlemen of the
+jury,--This unhappy female was pure and virtuous, it is true. I seduced
+her,--that is equally true; she bore me a child,--that is also true.
+After that, as she has a light complexion, I completely forsook her for
+a pretty brunette,--that is still more true; but, in doing so, I have
+only followed out an imprescriptible right, a sacred right which society
+recognizes and accords to me.' 'The truth is, this young man is
+perfectly in the right,' the jury would say one to another; 'there is no
+law which prevents a young man from seducing a fair girl, and then
+forsaking her for a brunette; he is a gay young chap, and that's all.'
+'Now, gentlemen of the jury, this unhappy girl is said to have killed
+her child,--I will say our child,--because I abandoned her; because,
+finding herself alone and in the deepest misery, she became frightened,
+and lost her senses! And wherefore? Because having, as she says, to
+bring up and feed her child, it was impossible that she could continue
+to work regularly at her occupation, and gain a livelihood for herself
+and this pledge of our love! But I think these reasons quite unworthy of
+consideration, allow me to say, gentlemen of the jury. Could she not
+have gone to the Lying-in Hospital, if there was room for her? Could she
+not, at the critical moment, have gone to the magistrate of her district
+and made a declaration of her shame, so that she might have had
+authority for placing her child in the Enfants Trouvés? In fact, could
+she not, whilst I was playing billiards at the coffee-house, whilst
+awaiting my other mistress, could she not have extricated herself from
+this affair by some genteeler mode than this? For, gentlemen of the
+jury, I will admit that I consider this way of disposing of the pledge
+of our loves as rather too unceremonious and rude, under the idea of
+thus quietly escaping all future care and trouble. What, is it enough
+for a young girl to lose her character, brave contempt, infamy, and have
+an illegitimate child? No; but she must also educate the child, take
+care of it, bring it up, give it a business, and make an honest man of
+it, if it be a boy, like its father; or an honest girl, who does not
+turn wanton like her mother. For, really, maternity has its sacred
+duties, and the wretches who trample them under foot are unnatural
+mothers, who deserve an exemplary and notable punishment; as a proof of
+which, gentlemen of the jury, I beg you will unhesitatingly hand over
+this miserable woman to the executioner, and you will thus do your duty
+like independent, firm, and enlightened citizens. _Dixi!_' 'This
+gentleman looks at the question in a very moral point of view,' will say
+some hatmaker or retired furrier, who is foreman of the jury; 'he has
+done, i'faith, what we should all have done in his place; for the girl
+is very pretty, though rather pallid in complexion. This gay spark, as
+the song says:
+
+      "'"Has kissed and has prattled with fifty fair maids,
+           And changed them as oft, do you see;"
+
+and there is no law against that. As to this unfortunate girl, after
+all, it is her own fault! Why did she not repulse him? Then she would
+not have committed a crime,--a monstrous crime! which really puts all
+society to the blush.' And the hatter or the furrier would be
+right,--perfectly right. What is there to criminate this gentleman? Of
+what complicity, direct or indirect, moral or material, can he be
+charged? This lucky rogue has seduced a pretty girl, and he it is who
+has brought her there; he does not deny it; where is the law that
+prevents or punishes him? Society merely says: There are gay young
+fellows abroad,--let the pretty girls beware! But if a poor wretch,
+through want or stupidity, constraint, or ignorance of the laws which he
+cannot read, buys knowingly a rag which has been stolen, he will be sent
+to the galleys for twenty years as a receiver, if such be the punishment
+for the theft itself. This is logical, powerful reasoning,--'Without
+receivers there would be no thieves, without thieves there would be no
+receivers.' No, no more pity, then--even less pity--for him who excites
+to the evil than he who perpetrates it. Let the smallest degree of
+complicity be visited with terrible punishment! Good; there is in that a
+serious and fertile thought, high and moral. We should bow before
+Society which had dictated such a law; but we remember that this
+Society, so inexorable towards the smallest complicity of crime against
+things, is so framed that a simple and ingenuous man, who should try to
+prove that there is at least moral similarity, material complicity,
+between the fickle seducer and the seduced and forsaken girl, would be
+laughed at as a visionary. And if this simple man were to assert that
+without a father there would, in all probability, not be offspring,
+Society would exclaim against the atrocity,--the folly! And it would be
+right,--quite right; for, after all, this gay youth who might say these
+fine things to the jury, however little he might like tragic emotions,
+might yet go tranquilly to see his mistress executed,--executed for
+child-murder, a crime to which he was an accessory; nay more, the
+author, in consequence of his shameless abandonment! Does not this
+charming protection, granted to the male portion of society for certain
+gay doings suggested by the god of Love, show plainly that France still
+sacrifices to the Graces, and is still the most gallant nation in the
+world?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+JACQUES FERRAND.
+
+
+At the period when the events were passing which we are now relating, at
+one end of the Rue du Sentier a long old wall extended, covered with a
+coat of whitewash, and the top garnished with a row of broken
+flint-glass bottles; this wall, bounding on one side the garden of
+Jacques Ferrand, the notary, terminated with a _corps de logis_ facing
+the street, only one story high, with garrets. Two large escutcheons of
+gilt copper, emblems of the notarial residence, flanked the worm-eaten
+_porte cochčre_, of which the primitive colour was no longer to be
+distinguished under the mud which covered it. This entrance led to an
+open passage; on the right was the lodge of an old porter, almost deaf,
+who was to the body of tailors what M. Pipelet was to the body of
+boot-makers; on the left a stable, used as a cellar, washhouse,
+woodhouse, and the establishment of a rising colony of rabbits belonging
+to the porter, who was dissipating the sorrows of a recent widowhood by
+bringing up these domestic animals. Beside the lodge was the opening of
+a twisting staircase, narrow and dark, leading to the office, as was
+announced to the clients by a hand painted black, whose forefinger was
+directed towards these words, also painted in black upon the wall, "The
+Office on the first floor."
+
+On one side of a large paved court, overgrown with grass, were empty
+stables; on the other side, a rusty iron gate, which shut in the garden;
+at the bottom the pavilion, inhabited only by the notary. A flight of
+eight or ten steps of disjointed stones, which were moss-grown and
+time-worn, led to this square pavilion, consisting of a kitchen and
+other underground offices, a ground floor, a first floor, and the top
+rooms, in one of which Louise had slept. The pavilion also appeared in a
+state of great dilapidation. There were deep chinks in the walls; the
+window-frames and outside blinds, once painted gray, had become almost
+black by time; the six windows on the first floor, looking out into the
+courtyard, had no curtains; a sort of greasy and opaque deposit covered
+the glass; on the ground floor there were visible through the
+window-panes more transparent, faded yellow cotton curtains, with red
+bindings.
+
+On the garden side the pavilion had only four windows. The garden,
+overgrown with parasitical plants, seemed wholly neglected. There was no
+flower border, not a bush; a clump of elms; five or six large green
+trees; some acacias and elder-trees; a yellowish grass-plat, half
+destroyed by moss and the scorch of the sun; muddy paths, choked up with
+weeds; at the bottom, a sort of half cellar; for horizon, the high,
+naked, gray walls of the adjacent houses, having here and there
+skylights barred like prison windows,--such was the miserable appearance
+of the garden and dwelling of the notary.
+
+To this appearance, or rather reality, M. Ferrand attached great
+importance. In the eyes of the vulgar, carelessness about comfort almost
+always passes for disinterestedness; dirt, for austerity. Comparing the
+vast financial luxury of some notaries, or the costly toilets of their
+wives, to the dull abode of M. Ferrand, so opposed to elegance, expense,
+or splendour, clients felt a sort of respect for, or rather blind
+confidence in, a man who, according to his large practice and the
+fortune attributed to him, could say, like many of his professional
+brethren, my carriage, my evening party, my country-house, my box at
+the opera, etc. But, far from this, Jacques Ferrand lived with rigid
+economy; and thus deposits, investments, powers of attorney, in fact,
+all matters of trust and business requiring the most scrupulous and
+recognised integrity, accumulated in his hands.
+
+Living thus meanly as he did, the notary lived in the way he liked. He
+detested the world, show, dearly purchased pleasures; and, even had it
+been otherwise, he would unhesitatingly have sacrificed his dearest
+inclinations to the appearances which he found it so profitable to
+assume.
+
+A word or two on the character of the man. He was one of the children of
+the large family of misers. Misers are generally exhibited in a
+ridiculous and whimsical light; the worst do not go beyond egotism or
+harshness. The greater portion increase their fortune by continually
+investing; some (they are but few) lend at thirty per cent.; the most
+decided hardly venture any risk with their means; but it is almost an
+unheard-of thing for a miser to proceed to crime, even murder, in the
+acquisition of fresh wealth.
+
+That is easily accounted for; avarice is especially a negative passion.
+The miser, in his incessant calculations, thinks more of becoming richer
+by not disbursing; in tightening around him, more and more, the limits
+of strict necessity, than he does of enriching himself at the cost of
+another; he is especially the martyr to preservation. Weak, timid,
+cunning, distrustful, and, above all, prudent and circumspect, never
+offensive, indifferent to the ills of his neighbour,--the miser at least
+never alludes to these ills,--he is, before all and above all, the man
+of certainty and surety; or, rather, he is only a miser because he
+believes only in the substantial, the hard gold which he has locked up
+in his chest. Speculations and loans, on even undoubted security, tempt
+him but little, for, how improbable soever it may be, they always offer
+a chance of loss, and he prefers rather to lose the interest of his
+money than expose his capital. A man so timorous will, therefore, seldom
+have the savage energy of the wretch who risks the galleys or his neck
+to lay hands on the wealth of another.
+
+Risk is a word erased from the vocabulary of the miser. It is in this
+sense that Jacques Ferrand was, let us say, a very singular exception,
+perhaps a new variety of the genus Miser; for Jacques Ferrand did risk,
+and a great deal. He relied on his craft, which was excessive; on his
+hypocrisy, which was unbounded; on his intellect, which was elastic and
+fertile; on his boldness, which was devilish, in assuring him impunity
+for his crimes, and they were already numerous.
+
+Jacques Ferrand was a twofold exception. Usually these adventurous,
+energetic spirits, which do not recoil before any crime that will
+procure gold, are beset by turbulent passions--gaming, dissipation,
+gluttony, or other pleasures. Jacques Ferrand knew none of these violent
+and stormy desires; cunning and patient as a forger, cruel and resolute
+as an assassin, he was as sober and regular as Harpagon. One passion
+alone was active within him, and this we have seen too fatally exhibited
+in his early conduct to Louise. The loan of thirteen hundred francs to
+Morel at high interest was, in Ferrand's hands, a snare--a means of
+oppression and a source of profit. Sure of the lapidary's honesty, he
+was certain of being repaid in full some day or other. Still Louise's
+beauty must have made a deep impression on him to have made him lay out
+of a sum of money so advantageously placed.
+
+Except this weakness, Jacques Ferrand loved gold only. He loved gold for
+gold's sake; not for the enjoyments it procured,--he was a stoic; not
+for the enjoyments it might procure,--he was not sufficiently poetical
+to enjoy speculatively, like some misers. With regard to what belonged
+to himself, he loved possession for possession's sake; with regard to
+what belonged to others, if it concerned a large deposit, for instance,
+liberally confided to his probity only, he experienced in returning this
+deposit the same agony, the same despair, as the goldsmith, Cardillac,
+did in separating himself from a casket of jewels which his own
+exquisite taste had fashioned into a _chef-d'oeuvre_ of art. With the
+notary, his character for extreme probity was his _chef-d'oeuvre_ of
+art; a deposit was to him a jewel, which he could not surrender but with
+poignant regrets. What care, what cunning, what stratagems, what skill,
+in a word, what art, did he use to attract this sum into his own strong
+box, still maintaining that extreme character for honour, which was
+beset with the most precious marks of confidence, like the pearls and
+diamonds in the golden diadems of Cardillac. The more this celebrated
+goldsmith approached perfection, they say, the more value did he attach
+to his ornaments, always considering the last as his _chef-d'oeuvre_,
+and being utterly distressed at giving it up. The more Jacques Ferrand
+grew perfect in crime, the more he clung to the open and constant marks
+of confidence which were showered upon him, always considering his last
+deceit as his _chef-d'oeuvre_.
+
+We shall see in the sequel of this history that, by the aid of certain
+means really prodigious in plan and carrying out, he contrived to
+appropriate to himself, with impunity, several very considerable sums.
+His secret and mysterious life gave him incessant and terrible emotions,
+such as gaming gives to the gambler. Against all other men's fortunes
+Jacques Ferrand staked his hypocrisy, his boldness, his head; and he
+played on velvet, as it is called, far out of the reach of human
+justice, which he vulgarly and energetically characterised as a chimney
+which might fall on one's head; for him to lose was only not to gain;
+and, moreover, he was so criminally gifted that, in his bitter irony, he
+saw a continued gain in boundless esteem, the unlimited confidence
+which he inspired, not only in a multitude of rich clients, but also in
+the smaller tradespeople and workmen of his district. A great many of
+these placed their money with him, saying, "He is not charitable, it is
+true; he is a devotee, and that's a pity; but he is much safer than the
+government or the savings-banks." In spite of his uncommon ability, this
+man had committed two of those mistakes from which the most skilful
+rogues do not always escape; forced by circumstances, it is true, he had
+associated with himself two accomplices. This immense fault, as he
+called it, had been in part repaired; neither of his two associates
+could destroy him without destroying themselves, and neither would have
+reaped from denunciation any other profit but of drawing down justice on
+themselves as well as on the notary; on this score he was quite easy.
+Besides, he was not at the end of his crimes, and the disadvantages of
+accompliceship were balanced by the criminal aid which at times he still
+obtained.
+
+A few words as to the personal appearance of M. Ferrand, and we will
+introduce the reader into the notary's study, where we shall encounter
+some of the principal personages in this recital.
+
+M. Ferrand was fifty years of age, but did not appear forty; he was of
+middle height, with broad and stooping shoulders, powerful, thickset,
+strong-limbed, red-haired, and naturally as hirsute as a bear. His hair
+was flat on his temples, his forehead bald, his eyebrows scarcely
+perceptible; his bilious complexion was almost concealed by innumerable
+red spots, and, when strong emotion agitated him, his yellow and murky
+countenance was injected with blood, and became a livid red. His face
+was as flat as a death's head, as is vulgarly said; his nose thick and
+flat; his lips so thin, so imperceptible, that his mouth seemed incised
+in his face, and, when he smiled with his villainous and revolting air,
+his teeth seemed as though supplied by black and rotten fangs. His
+pallid face had an expression at once austere and devout, impassible and
+inflexible, cold and reflective; whilst his small, black, animated,
+peering, and restless eyes were lost behind large green spectacles.
+
+Jacques Ferrand saw admirably well; but, sheltered by his glasses, he
+had an immense advantage; he could observe without being observed; and
+well he knew how often a glance is unwittingly full of meaning. In spite
+of his imperturbable audacity, he had met twice or thrice in his life
+certain potent and magnetic looks, before which his own had compulsorily
+been lowered; and in some important circumstances it is fatal to lower
+the eyes before the man who interrogates, accuses, or judges you. The
+large spectacles of M. Ferrand were thus a kind of covert retrenchment,
+whence he could reconnoitre and observe every movement of the enemy; and
+all the world was the notary's enemy, because all the world was, more or
+less, his dupe; and accusers are but enlightened or disgusted dupes. He
+affected a negligence in his dress almost amounting to dirtiness, or
+rather, he was naturally so; his chin shaven only every two or three
+days, his grimy and wrinkled head, his broad nails encircled in black,
+his unpleasant odour, his threadbare coat, his greasy hat, his coarse
+neckcloth, his black-worsted stockings, his clumsy shoes, all curiously
+betokened his worthiness with his clients, by giving him an air of
+disregard of the world, and an air of practical philosophy, which
+delighted them.
+
+They said: "What tastes, what passions, what feelings, what weaknesses,
+must the notary sacrifice to obtain the confidence he inspires! He
+gains, perhaps, sixty thousand francs (2,400_l._) a year, and his
+household consists of a servant and an old housekeeper. His only
+pleasure is to go on Sundays to mass and vespers, and he knows no opera
+comparable to the grave chanting of the organ, no worldly society which
+is worth an evening quietly passed at his fireside corner with the curé
+of the parish after a frugal dinner; in fine, he places his enjoyment
+in probity, his pride in honour, his happiness in religion."
+
+Such was the opinion of the contemporaries of M. Jacques Ferrand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE OFFICE.
+
+
+The office of M. Ferrand resembled all other offices, and his clerks all
+other clerks. It was approached through an antechamber, furnished with
+four old chairs. In the office, properly so-called, surrounded by rows
+of shelves, ornamented with pasteboard boxes, containing the papers of
+the clients of M. Ferrand, five young men, stooping over black wooden
+desks, were laughing, gossiping, or scribbling perpetually. A
+waiting-room, also filled with pasteboard boxes, and in which the chief
+clerk was constantly stationed, and another room, which, for greater
+secrecy, was kept unoccupied, between the notary's private room and the
+waiting-room, completed the total of this laboratory of deeds of every
+description.
+
+An old cuckoo-clock, placed between the two windows of the office, had
+just struck two o'clock, and a certain bustle prevailed amongst the
+clerks; a part of their conversation will inform the reader as to the
+cause of this excitement.
+
+"Well, if any one had told me that François Germain was a thief," said
+one of the young men, "I should have said, 'That's a lie!'"
+
+"So should I."
+
+"And I."
+
+"And I. It really quite affected me to see him arrested and led away by
+the police. I could not eat any breakfast; but I have been rewarded by
+not having to eat the daily mess doled out by Mother Séraphin, for, as
+the song goes:
+
+      'To eat the allowance of old Séraphin,
+        One must have a twist indeed.'"
+
+"Capital! why, Chalamel, you are beginning your poetry already."
+
+"I demand Chalamel's head!"
+
+"Folly apart, it is very terrible for poor Germain."
+
+"Seventeen thousand francs (680_l._) is a lump of money!"
+
+"I believe you!"
+
+"And yet, for the fifteen months that Germain has been cashier, he was
+never a farthing deficient in making up his books."
+
+"I think the governor was wrong to arrest Germain, for the poor fellow
+swore that he had only taken thirteen hundred francs (52_l._) in gold,
+and that, moreover, he brought back the thirteen hundred francs this
+morning, to return them to the money-chest, at the very moment when our
+master sent for the police."
+
+"Ah, that's the bore of people of such ferocious honesty as our
+governor, they have no pity!"
+
+"But they ought to think twice before they ruin a poor young fellow,
+who, up to this time, has behaved with strict honesty."
+
+"M. Ferrand said he did it for an example."
+
+"Example? What? It is none to the honest, and the dishonest know well
+enough what they expose themselves to if they are found out in any
+delinquencies."
+
+"Our house seems to produce lots of jobs for the police officers."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, this morning there was poor little Louise, and now poor Germain."
+
+"I confess that Germain's affair was not quite clear to me."
+
+"But he confessed?"
+
+"He confessed that he had taken thirteen hundred francs, certainly; but
+he declared most vehemently that he had not taken the other fifteen
+thousand francs in bank-notes, and the other seven hundred francs which
+are short in the strong box."
+
+"True; and, if he confessed one thing, why shouldn't he confess
+another?"
+
+"Exactly so; for a man is as much punished for five hundred francs as he
+is for fifteen thousand francs."
+
+"Yes; only they retain the fifteen thousand francs, and, when they leave
+prison, this forms a little fund to start upon; and, as the swan of
+Cambrai sings:
+
+      'To get a jolly lot of "swag"
+       A cove must dip deep in the lucky-bag.'"
+
+"I demand Chalamel's head!"
+
+"Can't you talk sense for five minutes?"
+
+"Ah, here's Jabulot! won't he be astonished?"
+
+"What at, my boys? what at? Anything fresh about poor Louise?"
+
+"You would have known, roving blade, if you had not been so long in your
+rounds."
+
+"What, you think it is but a step from here to the Rue de Chaillot?"
+
+"I never said so."
+
+"Well, what about that gallant don, the famous Viscount de Saint-Rémy?"
+
+"Has he not been here yet?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, his horses were harnessed, and he sent me word by his _valet de
+chambre_, that he would come here directly. But he didn't seem best
+pleased, the servant said. Oh, my boys! such a lovely little house,
+furnished most magnificently, like one of the dwellings of the olden
+time that Faublas writes about. Oh, Faublas! he is my hero--my model!"
+said the clerk, putting down his umbrella and taking off his clogs.
+
+"You are right, Jabulot; for, as that sublime old blind man, Homer,
+said:
+
+      'Faublas, that amorous hero, it is said,
+       Forsook the duchess for the waiting-maid.'"
+
+"Yes; but then, she was a theatrical 'waiting-maid,' my lads."
+
+"I demand Chalamel's head!"
+
+"But about this Viscount de Saint-Rémy? Jabulot says his mansion is
+superb."
+
+"Pyramidic!"
+
+"Then, I'll be bound, he has debts not a few, and arrests to match, this
+viscount."
+
+"A bill of thirty-four thousand francs (1,360_l._) has been sent here by
+the officer. It is made payable at the office. This is his creditors'
+doing; I don't know why or wherefore."
+
+"Well, I should say that this dandy viscount would pay now, because he
+came from the country last night, where he has been concealed these
+three days, in order to escape from the bailiffs."
+
+"How is it, then, that they have not seized the furniture already?"
+
+"Why? oh, he's too cunning! The house is not his own; all the furniture
+is in the name of his _valet de chambre_, who is said to let it to him
+furnished; and, in the same way, his horses and carriages are in his
+coachman's name, who declares that he lets to the viscount his splendid
+turn-out at so much a month. Ah, he's a 'downy' one, is M. de
+Saint-Rémy! But what were you going to tell me? what has happened here
+fresh?"
+
+"Why, imagine the governor coming in here two hours ago in a most awful
+passion. 'Germain is not here?' he exclaimed. 'No, sir.' 'Well, the
+rascal has robbed me last night of seventeen thousand francs!' says the
+governor."
+
+"Germain--rob--ah, come, that's 'no go!'"
+
+"You will hear. 'What, sir, are you sure? but it cannot be,' we all
+cried out. 'I tell you, gentlemen,' said the governor, 'that yesterday I
+put in the drawer of the bureau at which he writes, fifteen notes of one
+thousand francs each, and two thousand francs in gold, in a little box,
+and it is all gone.' At this moment old Marriton, the porter, came in,
+and he said, 'Sir, the police are coming; where is Germain?' 'Wait a
+bit,' said the governor to the porter; 'as soon as M. Germain returns,
+send him into the office, without saying a word. I will confront him
+before you all, gentlemen,' said the governor. At the end of a quarter
+of an hour in comes poor Germain, as if nothing had happened. Old Mother
+Séraphin had brought in our morning mess. Germain made his bow to the
+governor, and wished us all 'good morning,' as usual. 'Germain, don't
+you take your breakfast?' inquired M. Ferrand. 'No, thank you, sir, I am
+not hungry.' 'You're very late this morning.' 'Yes, sir; I was obliged
+to go to Belleville this morning.' 'No doubt to hide the money you have
+stolen from me!' M. Ferrand said, in a terrible voice."
+
+"And Germain?"
+
+"The poor fellow turned as pale as death, and stammered out,
+'Pray--pray, sir, do not ruin me--'"
+
+"What! he had stolen--"
+
+"Listen, Jabulot: 'Do not ruin me,' says he to the governor. 'What! you
+confess it, then, you villain?' 'Yes, sir; but here is the money; I
+thought I could replace it before you came into the office this morning;
+but, unfortunately, a person who had a small sum of mine, and whom I
+expected to find at home last night, had been at Belleville these two
+days, and I was compelled to go there this morning; that made me late.
+Pray, sir, forgive me,--do not destroy me! When I took the money I knew
+I could return it this morning; and here are the thirteen hundred francs
+in gold.' 'What do you mean by thirteen hundred francs?' exclaimed M.
+Ferrand; 'what's the use of talking of thirteen hundred francs? You have
+stolen, from the bureau in my room, fifteen thousand francs that were in
+a green pocket-book, and two thousand francs in gold.' 'I? Never!' cried
+poor Germain, quite aghast. 'I took thirteen hundred francs in gold, but
+not a farthing more. I did not even see the pocket-book in the drawer;
+there were only two thousand francs, in gold, in a box.' 'Oh, shameless
+liar!' cried the governor; 'you confess to having plundered thirteen
+hundred francs, and may just as well have stolen more; that will be for
+the law to decide. I shall be without mercy for such an infamous breach
+of trust; you shall be an example.' In fact, my dear Jabulot, the police
+came in at that moment, with the commissary's chief clerk, to draw up
+the depositions, and they laid hands on poor Germain; and that's all
+about it."
+
+"Really, you do surprise me! I feel as if some one had given me a thump
+on the head. Germain--Germain, who seemed such an honest fellow,--a chap
+to whom one would have given absolution without confession."
+
+"I should say that he had some presentiment of his misfortune."
+
+"How?"
+
+"For some days past he seemed to have something on his mind."
+
+"Perhaps about Louise."
+
+"Louise?"
+
+"Why, I only repeat what Mother Séraphin said this morning."
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"What? that he was Louise's lover, and the father of her child."
+
+"Sly dog! Do you think so?"
+
+"Why--why--why--"
+
+"Pooh! pooh!"
+
+"That's not the case."
+
+"How do you know, Master Jabulot?"
+
+"Because it is not a fortnight ago that Germain told me, in confidence,
+that he was over head and ears in love with a little needle-woman, a
+very correct lass, whom he had known in the house where he lived; and,
+when he talked of her, the tears came in his eyes."
+
+"Why, Jabulot, you are getting quite poetical."
+
+"He says Faublas is his hero, and he is not 'wide awake' enough to know
+that a man may be in love with one woman and a lover of another at the
+same time; for, as the tender Fénélon says, in his Instructions to the
+Duke of Burgundy:
+
+      'A spicy blade, of the right cock-feather,
+       May love a blonde and brunette together.'"
+
+"I demand Chalamel's head!"
+
+"I tell you that Germain spoke in earnest."
+
+At this moment the head clerk entered the office.
+
+"Well, M. Jabulot," said he, "have you completed your rounds?"
+
+"Yes, M. Dubois; I have been to M. de Saint-Remy, and he will come and
+pay immediately."
+
+"And as to the Countess Macgregor?"
+
+"Here is her answer."
+
+"And the Countess d'Orbigny?"
+
+"She returns her compliments to our employer. She only arrived from
+Normandy yesterday morning, and did not know that her reply was required
+so soon; here is a note from her. I also called on the Marquis
+d'Harville's steward, as he desired me to receive the money for drawing
+up the contract which I witnessed at their house the other day."
+
+"You should have told him there was no hurry."
+
+"I did, but the steward insisted on paying. Here is the money. Oh! I had
+almost forgotten to say, M. Badinot said that M. Ferrand had better do
+as they had agreed; it was the best thing to do."
+
+"He did not write an answer?"
+
+"No, sir; he said he had not time."
+
+"Very well."
+
+"M. Charles Robert will come in the course of the morning to speak to
+our master. It seems that he fought a duel yesterday with the Duke de
+Lucenay."
+
+"And is he wounded?"
+
+"I think not, or else they would have told me so at the house."
+
+"Hark! there's a carriage stopping at the door."
+
+"Oh, what fine horses! how full of spirits they are!"
+
+"And that fat English coachman, with his white wig, and brown livery
+striped with silver, and his epaulettes like a colonel!"
+
+"It must be some ambassador's."
+
+"And the _chasseur_, look how he is bedizened all over with silver!"
+
+"And what moustachios!"
+
+"Oh," said Jabulot, "it is the Viscount de Saint-Remy's carriage!"
+
+"What! is that the way he does it? Oh, my!"
+
+Soon after the Viscount de Saint-Remy entered the office.
+
+We have already described the handsome appearance, elegance of style,
+and aristocratical demeanour of M. de Saint-Remy, when he was on his way
+to the farm of Arnouville (the estate of Madame de Lucenay), where he
+had found a retreat from the pursuit of the bailiffs, Malicorne and
+Bourdin. The viscount, who entered unceremoniously into the office, with
+his hat on his head, a haughty and disdainful look, and his eyes half
+closed, asked, with an air of extreme superciliousness, and without
+looking at anybody:
+
+"Where is the notary?"
+
+"M. Ferrand is engaged in his private room," said the chief clerk. "If
+you will please to wait a moment, sir, he will see you."
+
+"What do you mean by wait a moment?"
+
+"Why, sir--"
+
+"There is no why in the case, sir. Go and tell him that M. de Saint-Remy
+is here; and I am much surprised that this notary should make me dance
+attendance in his waiting-room. It is really most annoying."
+
+"Will you walk into this side room, sir?" said the chief clerk, "and I
+will inform M. Ferrand this instant."
+
+M. de Saint-Remy shrugged his shoulders, and followed the head clerk. At
+the end of a quarter of an hour, which seemed very tedious to him, and
+which converted his spleen into anger, the viscount was introduced into
+the notary's private apartment.
+
+Nothing could be more striking than the contrast between these two men,
+both of them profound physiognomists, and habituated to judge at a
+glance of the persons with whom they had business. M. de Saint-Remy saw
+Jacques Ferrand for the first time, and was struck with the expression
+of his pallid, harsh, and impassive features,--the look concealed by the
+large green spectacles; the skull half hid beneath an old black silk
+cap. The notary was seated at his writing-desk, in a leathern armchair,
+beside a low fireplace, almost choked up with ashes, and in which were
+two black and smoking logs of wood. Curtains of green cotton, almost in
+rags, hung on small iron rings at the windows, and, concealing the lower
+window-panes, threw over the room, which was naturally dark, a livid and
+unpleasant hue. Shelves of black wood were filled with deed-boxes, all
+duly labelled. Some cherry-wood chairs, covered with threadbare Utrecht
+velvet; a clock in a mahogany case; a floor yellow, damp, and chilling;
+a ceiling full of cracks, and festooned with spiders' webs,--such was
+the _sanctum sanctorum_ of M. Jacques Ferrand. Hardly had the viscount
+made two steps into his cabinet, or spoken a word, than the notary, who
+knew him by reputation, conceived an intense antipathy towards him. In
+the first place, he saw in him, if we may say so, a rival in rogueries;
+and then he hated elegance, grace, and youth in other persons, and more
+especially when these advantages were attended with an air of insolent
+superiority. The notary usually assumed a tone of rude and almost coarse
+abruptness with his clients, who liked him the better for being in
+behaviour like a boor of the Danube. He made up his mind to double this
+brutality towards M. de Saint-Remy, who, only knowing the notary by
+report also, expected to find an attorney either familiar or a fool; for
+the viscount always imagined men of such probity as M. Ferrand had the
+reputation for, as having an exterior almost ridiculous, but, so far
+from this, the countenance and appearance of the attorney at law struck
+the viscount with an undefinable feeling,--half fear, half aversion.
+Consequently, his own resolute character made M. de Saint-Remy increase
+his usual impertinence and effrontery. The notary kept his cap on his
+head, and the viscount did not doff his hat, but exclaimed, as he
+entered the room, with a loud and imperative tone:
+
+"_Pardieu_, sir! it is very strange that you should give me the trouble
+to come here, instead of sending to my house for the money for the bills
+I accepted from the man Badinot, and for which the fellow has issued
+execution against me. It is true you tell me that you have also another
+very important communication to make to me; but then, surely, that is no
+excuse for making me wait for half an hour in your antechamber: it is
+really most annoying, sir!"
+
+M. Ferrand, quite unmoved, finished a calculation he was engaged in,
+wiped his pen methodically in a moist sponge which encircled his
+inkstand of cracked earthenware, and raised towards the viscount his
+icy, earthy, flat face, shaded by his spectacles. He looked like a
+death's head in which the eye-holes had been replaced by large, fixed,
+staring green eyeballs. After having looked at the viscount for a moment
+or two, the notary said to him, in a harsh and abrupt tone:
+
+"Where's the money?"
+
+This coolness exasperated M. de Saint-Rémy.
+
+He--he, the idol of the women, the envy of the men, the model of the
+first society in Paris, the dreaded duellist--produced no effect on a
+wretched attorney-at-law! It was horrid; and, although he was only
+_tęte-ŕ-tęte_ with Jacques Ferrand, his pride revolted.
+
+"Where are the bills?" inquired the viscount, abruptly.
+
+With the point of one of his fingers, as hard as iron, and covered with
+red hair, the notary rapped on a large leathern pocket-book which lay
+close beside him. Resolved on being as laconic, although trembling with
+rage, M. de Saint-Remy took from the pocket of his upper coat a Russian
+leather pocket-book, with gold clasps, from which he drew forth forty
+notes of a thousand francs each, and showed them to the notary.
+
+"How many are there?" he inquired.
+
+"Forty thousand francs."
+
+"Hand them to me!"
+
+"Take them! and let this have a speedy termination. Ply your trade, pay
+yourself, and give me the bills," said the viscount, as he threw the
+notes on the table, with an impatient air.
+
+The notary took up the bank-notes, rose, went close to the window to
+examine them, turning and re-turning them over and over, one by one,
+with an attention so scrupulous, and really so insulting for M. de
+Saint-Rémy, that the viscount actually turned pale with rage. Jacques
+Ferrand, as if he had guessed the thoughts which were passing in the
+viscount's mind, shook his head, turned half towards him, and said to
+him, with an indefinable accent:
+
+"I have seen--"
+
+M. de Saint-Remy, confused for a moment, said, drily:
+
+"What?"
+
+"Forged bank-notes," replied the notary, continuing his scrutiny of a
+note, which he had not yet examined.
+
+"What do you mean by that remark, sir?"
+
+Jacques Ferrand paused for a moment, looked steadfastly at the viscount
+through his glasses, then, shrugging his shoulders slightly, he
+continued to investigate the notes, without uttering a syllable.
+
+"Monsieur Notary! I would wish you to learn that, when I ask a question,
+I have an answer!" cried M. de Saint-Remy, exasperated at the coolness
+of Jacques Ferrand.
+
+"These notes are good," said the notary, turning towards his bureau,
+whence he took a small bundle of stamped papers, to which were annexed
+two bills of exchange; then, putting down one of the bank-notes for one
+thousand francs and three rouleaus, of one hundred francs each, on the
+table, he said to M. de Saint-Remy, pointing to the money and the bills
+with his finger:
+
+"Here's your change out of the forty thousand francs; my client has
+desired me to deduct the expenses."
+
+The viscount had contained himself with great difficulty whilst Jacques
+Ferrand was making out the account, and, instead of taking up the money,
+he exclaimed, in a voice that literally shook with passion:
+
+"I beg to know, sir, what you meant by saying, whilst you looked at the
+bank-notes which I handed to you, that you 'had seen forged notes?'"
+
+"What I meant?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Because I sent for you to come here on a matter of forgery."
+
+And the notary fixed his green spectacles on the viscount.
+
+"And how can this forgery in any way affect me?"
+
+After a moment's silence, M. Ferrand said to the viscount, with a stern
+air:
+
+"Are you aware, sir, of the duties which a notary fulfils?"
+
+"Those duties appear to me, sir, very simple indeed; just now I had
+forty thousand francs, now I have thirteen hundred francs left."
+
+"You are facetious, sir; I will tell you that a notary is, in temporal
+matters, what a confessor is in spiritual affairs; by virtue of his
+position, he often becomes possessed of disgraceful secrets."
+
+"Go on, I beg, sir."
+
+"He is often brought into contact with rogues."
+
+"Go on, sir."
+
+"He ought, as well as he can, to prevent an honourable name from being
+dragged through the mud."
+
+"What is all this to me?"
+
+"Your father's name is deservedly respected; you, sir, dishonour it."
+
+"How dare you, sir, to address such language to me?"
+
+"But for the interest which the gentleman, of whom I speak, inspires in
+the minds of all honest men, instead of being summoned before me, you
+would, at this moment, be standing before a police-magistrate."
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"Two months since, you discounted, through an agent, a bill for
+fifty-eight thousand francs (2,320_l._), accepted by the house of
+Meulaert & Company, of Hamburg, in favour of a certain William Smith,
+payable in three months, at the bank of M. Grimaldi, of Paris."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"That bill was a forgery."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"That bill was a forgery! the firm of Meulaert never gave such a bill to
+William Smith, and never had such a transaction with such an
+individual."
+
+"Can this be true?" exclaimed M. de Saint-Rémy, with equal surprise and
+indignation; "then I have been most infamously deceived, sir, for I took
+the bill as ready money."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From M. William Smith himself; the house of Meulaert is so well known,
+and I was so firmly convinced myself of the honour of M. William Smith,
+that I took the bill in payment of a debt he owed me."
+
+"William Smith never existed,--he is an imaginary personage."
+
+"Sir, you insult me!"
+
+"His signature is forged and false, as well as all the rest of the
+bill."
+
+"I assert that M. William Smith is alive; but I must have been the dupe
+of a horrible abuse of confidence."
+
+"Poor young man!"
+
+"Explain yourself, sir."
+
+"The actual holder of the bill is convinced you committed the forgery."
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"He declares that he has proof of this; and he came to me the day before
+yesterday, requesting me to see you, and offer to give up this forged
+document, under certain conditions. Up to this point all was
+straightforward, but what follows is not so, and I only speak to you now
+according to my instructions. He requires one hundred thousand francs
+(4,000_l._) down this very day, or else to-morrow, at twelve o'clock at
+noon, the forged bill will be handed over to the king's
+attorney-general."
+
+"This is infamous, sir!"
+
+"It is more,--it is absurd. You are a ruined man; you were all but
+arrested for the sum which you have just paid me, and which you have
+scraped up I cannot tell from where; and this I have told to the holder
+of the bill, who replied, that a certain great and very rich lady would
+not allow you to remain in this embarrassment."
+
+"Enough, sir! enough!"
+
+"More infamous! more absurd! agreed."
+
+"Well, sir, and what is required of me?"
+
+"Why, to work out infamously an action infamously commenced. I have
+consented to communicate this proposition to you, although it disgusts
+me, as an honest man ought to feel disgust on such an occasion; but now
+it is your affair. If you are guilty, choose between a criminal court
+and the means of ransom offered to you; my duty is only an official one,
+and I will not dirty my fingers any further in so foul a transaction.
+The third party is called M. Petit-Jean, an oil merchant, who lives on
+the banks of the Seine, Quai de Billy, No. 10. Make your arrangements
+with him; you are fit to meet if you are a forger, as he declares."
+
+M. de Saint-Remy had entered Jacques Ferrand's study with a lip all
+scorn, and a head all pride. Although he had in his life committed
+some shameful actions, he still retained a certain elevation of race,
+and an instinctive courage, which had never forsaken him. At the
+beginning of this conversation, considering the notary as an adversary
+beneath him, he had been content to treat him with disdain; but, when
+Jacques Ferrand began to talk of forgery, he felt annihilated; in his
+turn he felt himself rode over by the notary. But for the entire command
+of self which he possessed, he could not have concealed the terrible
+impression which this unexpected revelation disclosed to him, for it
+might have incalculable consequences to him,--consequences unsuspected
+by the notary himself. After a moment of silence and reflection, he
+resigned himself,--he, so haughty, so irritable, so vain of his
+self-possession!--to beg of this coarse man, who had so roughly
+addressed to him the stern language of probity:
+
+"Sir, you give me a proof of your interest, for which I thank you, and I
+regret that any hasty expressions should have escaped me," said M. de
+Saint-Remy, with a tone of cordiality.
+
+"I do not take the slightest interest in or for you," replied the
+notary, brutally. "Your father is the soul of honour, and I would not
+wish that in the depth of that solitude in which he lives, as they tell
+me, at Angers, he should learn that his name has been exposed,
+tarnished, degraded, in a court of justice, that's all."
+
+"I repeat to you, sir, that I am incapable of the infamy which is
+attributed to me."
+
+"You may tell that to M. Petit-Jean."
+
+"But I confess that, in the absence of M. Smith, who has so unworthily
+abused my confidence, that--"
+
+"The scoundrel Smith!"
+
+"The absence of M. Smith places me in a cruel embarrassment. I am
+innocent,--let them accuse me, I will prove myself guiltless; but such
+an accusation, even, must always disgrace a gentleman."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Be so good as to use the sum I have just handed to you in part payment
+to the person who holds the acceptance."
+
+"That money belongs to a client and is sacred."
+
+"In two or three days I will repay you."
+
+"You will not be able."
+
+"I have resources."
+
+"You have none; not visible at least. Your household furniture, your
+horses, do not belong to you, as you declare; this has to me the
+appearance of a disgraceful fraud."
+
+"You are severe, sir; but, admitting what you say, do you not suppose
+that I shall turn everything into money in such a desperate extremity?
+Only, as it will be impossible for me to procure, between this and noon
+to-morrow, the one hundred thousand francs, I entreat you to employ the
+money I have just handed to you in procuring this unfortunate bill, or,
+at least, as you are very rich, advance the money. Do not leave me in
+such a position."
+
+"Me? Why, is the man mad?"
+
+"Sir, I beseech you, in my father's name, which you have mentioned to
+me, be so kind as to--"
+
+"I am kind to those who deserve it," said the notary, harshly. "An
+honest man myself, I hate swindlers, and should not be sorry to see one
+of those high-minded gentlemen, without faith or honour, impious and
+reprobate, put in the pillory, as an example to others; but I hear your
+horses, who are impatient to depart, M. le Vicomte," said the notary,
+with a smile that displayed his black fangs.
+
+At this moment some one knocked at the door of the apartment.
+
+"Who's there?" inquired Jacques Ferrand.
+
+"Madame the Countess d'Orbigny," said the chief clerk.
+
+"Request her to wait a moment."
+
+"The stepmother of the Marchioness d'Harville?" exclaimed M. de
+Saint-Remy.
+
+"Yes, sir; she has an appointment with me,--so, your servant, sir."
+
+"Not a word of this, sir!" cried M. de Saint-Remy, in a menacing voice.
+
+"I told you, sir, that a notary is as discreet as a confessor."
+
+Jacques Ferrand rang, and the clerk appeared.
+
+"Show Madame d'Orbigny in." Then, addressing the viscount, "Take these
+thirteen hundred francs, sir; they will be something towards an
+arrangement with M. Petit-Jean."
+
+Madame d'Orbigny (formerly Madame Roland) entered at the moment when M.
+de Saint-Remy went out, his features convulsed with rage at having so
+uselessly humiliated himself before the notary.
+
+"Ah, good day, M. de Saint-Remy," said Madame d'Orbigny; "what a time it
+is since I saw you!"
+
+"Why, madame, since D'Harville's marriage, at which I was present, I do
+not think I have had the pleasure of meeting you," said M. de
+Saint-Remy, bowing, and assuming an affable and smiling demeanour. "You
+have remained in Normandy ever since, I think?"
+
+"Why, yes! M. d'Orbigny will only live in the country, and what he likes
+I like; so you see in me a complete country wife. I have not been in
+Paris since the marriage of my dear stepdaughter with that excellent M.
+d'Harville. Do you see him frequently?"
+
+"D'Harville has grown very sullen and morose; he is seldom seen in the
+world," said M. de Saint-Remy, with something like impatience, for the
+conversation was most irksome to him, both because of its untimeliness
+and that the notary seemed amused at it; but Madame d'Harville's
+stepmother, enchanted at thus meeting with a dandy of the first water,
+was not the woman to allow her prey to escape her so easily.
+
+"And my dear stepdaughter," she continued,--"she, I hope, is not as
+morose as her husband?"
+
+"Madame d'Harville is all the fashion, and has the world at her feet, as
+a lovely woman should have. But I take up your time, and--"
+
+"Not at all, I assure you. It is quite agreeable to me to meet the
+'observed of all observers,'--the monarch of fashion,--for, in ten
+minutes, I shall be as _au fait_ of Paris as if I had never left it. And
+your dear M. de Lucenay, who was also present at M. d'Harville's
+marriage?"
+
+"A still greater oddity. He has been travelling in the East, and
+returned in time to receive a sword-wound yesterday,--nothing serious,
+though."
+
+"Poor dear duke! And his wife, always lovely and fascinating?"
+
+"Madame, I have the honour to be one of her profoundest admirers, and my
+testimony would, therefore, be received with suspicion. I beg, on your
+return to Aubiers, you will not forget my regards to M. d'Orbigny."
+
+"He will, I am sure, be most sensible of your kindness; he often talks
+of you, and says you remind him of the Duke de Lauzun."
+
+"His comparison is a eulogy in itself, but, unfortunately, infinitely
+more flattering than true. Adieu, madame, for I fear I must not ask to
+be allowed to pay my respects to you before your departure."
+
+"I should lament to give you the trouble of calling on me, for I have
+pitched my tent for a few days in a furnished hôtel; but if, in the
+summer or autumn, you should be passing our way, _en route_ to some of
+those fashionable châteaus where the leaders of _ton_ dispute the
+pleasure of receiving you, pray give us a few days of your society, if
+it be only by way of contrast, and to rest yourself with us poor rustic
+folk from the whirl of your high life of fashion and distinction; for
+where you are it is always delightful to be."
+
+"Madame!"
+
+"I need not say how delighted M. d'Orbigny and myself would be to
+receive you; but adieu, sir, I fear the kind attorney (she pointed to
+Ferrand) will grow impatient at our gossip."
+
+"Quite the reverse, madame, quite the reverse," said Ferrand, with an
+emphasis that redoubled the repressed rage of M. de Saint-Remy.
+
+[Illustration: _He will scold you awfully._
+Original Etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+"Is not M. Ferrand a terrible man?" said Madame d'Orbigny, affectedly.
+"Mind now, I tell you, that, if he has charge of your affairs, he will
+scold you awfully. He is the most unpitying man--But that's my nonsense;
+on the contrary, why, such an exquisite as you to have M. Ferrand for
+his solicitor is a proof of reformation, for we know very well that he
+never allows his clients to do foolish things; if they do, he gives up
+their business. Oh, he will not be everybody's lawyer!" Then, turning to
+Jacques Ferrand: "Do you know, most puritanical solicitor, that you have
+made a splendid conversion there? If you reform the exquisite of
+exquisites, the King of the Mode--"
+
+"It is really a conversion, madame. The viscount left my study a very
+different man from what he entered it."
+
+"There, I tell you that you perform miracles!"
+
+"Ah, madame, you flatter me," said Jacques Ferrand, with emphasis.
+
+M. de Saint-Remy made a low bow to Madame d'Orbigny, and then, as he
+left the notary, desirous of trying once more to excite his pity, he
+said to him, in a careless tone, which, however, betrayed deep anxiety:
+
+"Then, my dear M. Ferrand, you will not grant me the favour I ask?"
+
+"Some wild scheme, no doubt. Be inexorable, my dear Puritan," cried
+Madame d'Orbigny, laughing.
+
+"You hear, sir? I must not contradict such a handsome lady."
+
+"My dear M. Ferrand, let us speak seriously of serious things, and, you
+know, this is a most serious matter. Do you really refuse me?" inquired
+the viscount, with an anxiety which he could not altogether dissemble.
+
+The notary was cruel enough to appear to hesitate; M. de Saint-Remy had
+an instant's hope.
+
+"What, man of iron, do you yield?" said Madame d'Harville's stepmother,
+laughing still. "Do you, too, yield to the charm of the irresistible?"
+
+"_Ma foi_, madame! I was on the point of yielding, as you say; but you
+make me blush for my weakness," added M. Ferrand. And then, addressing
+himself to the viscount, he said to him, with an accent of which
+Saint-Remy felt all the meaning, "Well then, seriously," (and he dwelt
+on the word), "it is impossible."
+
+"Ah, the Puritan! Hark to the Puritan!" said Madame d'Orbigny.
+
+"See M. Petit-Jean. He will think precisely as I do, I am sure, and,
+like me, will say to you 'No!'"
+
+M. de Saint-Remy rushed out in despair.
+
+After a moment's reflection he said to himself, "It must be so!" Then he
+added, addressing his chasseur, who was standing with the door of his
+carriage opened, "To the Hôtel de Lucenay."
+
+Whilst M. de Saint-Remy is on his way to see the duchess, we will
+present the reader at the interview between M. Ferrand and the
+stepmother of Madame d'Harville.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE CLIENTS.
+
+
+The reader may have forgotten the portrait of the stepmother of Madame
+d'Harville as drawn by the latter. Let us then repeat, that Madame
+d'Orbigny was a slight, fair, delicate woman, with eyelashes almost
+white, round and palish blue eyes, with a soft voice, a hypocritical
+air, insidious and insinuating manners. Any one who studied her
+treacherous and perfidious countenance would detect therein craft and
+cruelty.
+
+"What a delightful young man M. de Saint-Remy is!" said Madame d'Orbigny
+to Jacques Ferrand, when the viscount had left them.
+
+"Delightful! But, madame, let us now proceed to our business. You wrote
+to me from Normandy that you desired to consult me upon most serious
+matters."
+
+"Have you not always been my adviser ever since the worthy Doctor
+Polidori introduced me to you? By the way, have you heard from him
+recently?" inquired Madame d'Orbigny, with an air of complete
+carelessness.
+
+"Since he left Paris he has not written me a single line," replied the
+notary, with an air of similar indifference.
+
+Let the reader understand that these two persons lied most unequivocally
+to each other. The notary had seen Polidori (one of his two accomplices)
+recently, and had proposed to him to go to Asničres, to the Martials,
+the fresh-water pirates, of whom we shall presently speak,--had proposed
+to him, we say, to poison Louise Morel, under the name of Doctor
+Vincent. Madame d'Harville's stepmother, on her side, had come to Paris
+in order to have a secret meeting with this scoundrel, who had been for
+a long time concealed, as we have said, under the name of César
+Bradamanti.
+
+"But it is not the good doctor of whom we have to discourse," continued
+Madame d'Harville's stepmother. "You see me very uneasy. My husband is
+indisposed; his health becomes weaker and weaker every day. Without
+experiencing serious alarm, his condition gives me much concern,--or
+rather, gives him much concern," said Madame d'Orbigny, drying her eyes,
+which were slightly moistened.
+
+"What is the business, madame?"
+
+"He is constantly talking of making his last arrangements,--of his will."
+Here Madame d'Orbigny concealed her face in her pocket-handkerchief for
+some minutes.
+
+"It is very afflicting, no doubt," said the notary; "but the precaution
+has nothing terrible in itself. And what may be M. d'Orbigny's
+intentions, madame?"
+
+"Dear sir! How do I know? You may suppose that when he commences the
+subject I do not allow him to dwell on it long."
+
+"Well, then, he has not up to this time told you anything positive?"
+
+"I think," replied Madame d'Orbigny, with a deep sigh,--"I think that he
+wishes to leave me not only all that the law will allow him to bequeath
+to me, but--But, really, I pray of you, do not let us talk of that."
+
+"Of what, then, shall we talk?"
+
+"Alas, you are right, pitiless man! I must, in spite of myself, return
+to the sad subject that brings me here to see you. Well, then, M.
+d'Orbigny's inclination extends so far that he desires to sell a part of
+his estate and present me with a large sum."
+
+"But his daughter--his daughter?" exclaimed M. Ferrand, harshly. "I
+must tell you that, during the last year, M. d'Harville has placed his
+affairs in my hands, and I have lately purchased a splendid estate for
+him. You know my blunt way of doing business? Whether M. d'Harville is
+my client or not is no matter. I stand up only for justice. If your
+husband makes up his mind to behave to his daughter in a way that I do
+not approve, I tell you plainly he must not reckon on my assistance.
+Upright and downright, such has always been my line of conduct."
+
+"And mine, also! Therefore it is that I am always saying to my husband
+what you now say to me, 'Your daughter has behaved very ill to you, that
+is but too true; but that is no reason why you should disinherit her.'"
+
+"Very good,--quite right! And what answer does he make to that?"
+
+"He replies, 'I shall leave my daughter twenty-five thousand livres of
+annual income (1,000_l._); she had more than a million (40,000_l._) from
+her mother. Her husband has an enormous fortune of his own; and,
+therefore, why should I not leave you the residue of my fortune,--you,
+my tender love, the sole support, the only comfort of my declining
+years, my guardian angel?' I repeat these very flattering words to you,"
+said Madame d'Orbigny, with an air of modesty, "to prove to you how kind
+M. d'Orbigny is to me. But, in spite of that, I have always refused his
+offers; and, as he perceives that, he has compelled me to come and seek
+you."
+
+"But I do not know M. d'Orbigny."
+
+"But he, like all the world, knows your high character."
+
+"But why should he send you to me?"
+
+"To put an end to all my scruples and refusals, he said to me, 'I will
+not ask you to consult my notary, because you will think him too much
+devoted to my service; but I will trust myself entirely to the decision
+of a man of whose extreme probity of character I have heard you so
+frequently speak in praise,--M. Jacques Ferrand. If he considers your
+delicacy compromised by your consent to my wishes, we will not say
+another word on the subject; otherwise, you must comply without a word.'
+'I consent!' I replied to M. d'Orbigny. And so now you are the
+arbitrator between us. 'If M. Ferrand approves,' added my husband, 'I
+will send him ample power to realise in my name my rents and
+investments, and he shall keep the proceeds in his hands as a deposit;
+and thus, after my decease, my tender love, you will at least have an
+existence worthy of you.'"
+
+Perhaps M. Ferrand never had greater need of his spectacles than at this
+moment; for, had he not worn them, Madame d'Orbigny would doubtless have
+been struck with the sparkle of the notary's eyes, which seemed to dart
+fire when the word deposit was pronounced. However, he replied, in his
+usual coarse way:
+
+"It is very tiresome. This is the tenth or twelfth time that I have been
+made the arbitrator in a similar matter, always under the pretence of my
+honesty,--that is the only word in people's mouths. My honesty!--my
+honesty! What a fine quality, forsooth!--which only brings me in a great
+deal of tiresome trouble."
+
+"My good M. Ferrand! Come, do not repulse me. You will write at once to
+M. d'Orbigny, who only awaits your letter to send you full powers to act
+for him, and to realise the sum required."
+
+"Which amounts to how much?"
+
+"Why, I think he said four or five hundred thousand francs" (16,000_l._
+or 20,000_l._).
+
+"The sum, after all, is not so much as I thought. You are devoted to M.
+d'Orbigny. His daughter is very rich; you have nothing. That is not
+just; and I really think you should accept it."
+
+"Really, do you think so, indeed?" said Madame d'Orbigny, who was the
+dupe, like the rest of the world, of the proverbial probity of the
+notary, and who had not been enlightened by Polidori in this particular.
+
+"You may accept," he repeated.
+
+"I will accept, then," said Madame d'Orbigny, with a sigh.
+
+The chief clerk knocked at the door.
+
+"Who is there?" inquired M. Ferrand.
+
+"Madame the Countess Macgregor."
+
+"Request her to wait a moment."
+
+"I will go, then, my dear M. Ferrand," said Madame d'Orbigny. "You will
+write to my husband, since he wishes it, and he will send you the
+requisite authority by return of post?"
+
+"I will write."
+
+"Adieu, my worthy and excellent counsellor!"
+
+"Ah, you do not know, you people of the world, how disagreeable it is to
+take charge of such deposits,--the responsibility which we then assume.
+I tell you that there is nothing more detestable in the world than this
+fine character for probity, which brings down upon one all these
+turmoils and troubles."
+
+"And the admiration of all good people."
+
+"Thank Heaven, I place otherwise than here below the hopes of the reward
+at which I aim!" said M. Ferrand, in a hypocritical tone.
+
+To Madame d'Orbigny succeeded Sarah Macgregor.
+
+Sarah entered the cabinet of the notary with her usual coolness and
+assurance. Jacques Ferrand did not know her, nor the motives of her
+visit, and he therefore scrutinised her carefully in the hope of
+catching another dupe. He looked most attentively at the countess; and,
+despite the imperturbability of this marble-fronted woman, he observed a
+slight working of the eyebrows, which betrayed a repressed
+embarrassment. The notary rose from his seat, handed a chair, and,
+motioning to Sarah to sit down, thus accosted her:
+
+"You have requested of me, madame, an interview for to-day. I was very
+much engaged yesterday, and could not reply until this morning. I beg
+you will accept my apology for the delay."
+
+"I was desirous of seeing you, sir, on a matter of the greatest
+importance. Your reputation for honesty, kindness, and complaisance has
+made me hope that the step I have taken with you will be successful."
+
+The notary bent forward slightly in his chair.
+
+"I know, sir, that your discretion is perfect."
+
+"It is my duty, madame."
+
+"You are, sir, a man of rigid, moral, and incorruptible character."
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"Yet, sir, if you were told that it depended on you to restore
+life--more than life, reason--to an unhappy mother, should you have the
+courage to refuse her?"
+
+"If you will state the circumstances, madame, I shall be better able to
+reply."
+
+"It is fourteen years since, at the end of the month of December, 1824,
+a man in the prime of life, and dressed in deep mourning, came to ask
+you to take, by way of life-annuity, the sum of a hundred and fifty
+thousand francs (6,000_l._), which it was desired should be sunk in
+favour of a child of three years of age, whose parents were desirous of
+remaining unknown."
+
+"Well, madame?" said the notary, careful not to reply in the
+affirmative.
+
+"You assented, and took charge of this sum, agreeing to insure the child
+a yearly pension of eight thousand francs (320_l._). Half this income
+was to accumulate for the child's benefit until of age; the other half
+was to be paid by you to the person who took care of this little girl."
+
+"Well, madame?"
+
+"At the end of two years," said Sarah, unable to repress a slight
+emotion, "on the 28th of November, 1827, the child died."
+
+"Before we proceed any farther, madame, with this conversation, I must
+know what interest you take in this matter?"
+
+"The mother of this little girl, sir, was--my sister.[2] I have here
+proofs of what I advance: the declaration of the poor child's death, the
+letters of the person who took charge of her, and the acknowledgment of
+one of your clients with whom you have placed the hundred and fifty
+thousand francs."
+
+  [2] It is, perhaps, unnecessary to remind the reader that the
+  child in question is Fleur-de-Marie, daughter of Rodolph and
+  Sarah, and that the latter, in speaking of a pretended sister,
+  tells a falsehood necessary for her plans, as will be seen. Sarah
+  was convinced, as was Rodolph, also, of the death of the little
+  girl.
+
+"Allow me to see those papers, madame."
+
+Somewhat astonished at not being believed on her word, Sarah drew from a
+pocket-book several papers, which the notary examined with great
+attention.
+
+"Well, madame, what do you desire? The declaration of decease is
+perfectly in order. The hundred and fifty thousand francs came to my
+client, M. Petit-Jean, on the death of the child. It is one of the
+chances of life-annuities, as I remarked to the person who placed the
+affair in my hands. As to the pension, it was duly paid by me up to the
+time of the child's decease."
+
+"I am ready to declare, sir, that nothing could be more satisfactory
+than your conduct throughout the whole of the affair. The female who had
+charge of the child is also entitled to our gratitude, for she took the
+greatest care of my poor little niece."
+
+"True, madame. And I was so much satisfied with her conduct, that,
+seeing her out of place after the death of the child, I took her into my
+employment; and, since that time, she has remained with me."
+
+"Is Madame Séraphin in your service, sir?"
+
+"She has been my housekeeper these fourteen years, and I must ever speak
+in her praise."
+
+"Since that is the case, sir, she may be of the greatest use to us, if
+you will kindly grant me a request, which may appear strange, perhaps
+even culpable, at first sight, but when you know the motive--"
+
+"A culpable request, madame, is what I cannot believe you capable of
+addressing to me."
+
+"Sir, I am acquainted with the rectitude of your principles; but all my
+hope--my only hope--is in your pity. Under any event, I may rely on your
+discretion?"
+
+"Madame, you may."
+
+"Well, then, I will proceed. The death of this poor child was so great a
+shock to her mother, that her grief is as great now as it was fourteen
+years since, and, having then feared for her life, we are now in dread
+for her reason."
+
+"Poor mother!" said M. Ferrand, in a tone of sympathy.
+
+"Oh, yes, poor unhappy mother, indeed, sir! for she could only blush at
+the birth of her child at the time when she lost it; whilst now
+circumstances are such, that, if the child were still alive, my sister
+could render her legitimate, be proud of her, and never again allow her
+to quit her. Thus this incessant regret, coming to add to her other
+sorrows, we are afraid every hour lest she should be bereft of her
+senses."
+
+"It is unfortunate that nothing can be done in the matter."
+
+"Yes, sir--"
+
+"What, madame?"
+
+"Suppose some one told the poor mother, 'Your child was reported to be
+dead, but she did not die: the woman who had charge of her when she was
+little could vouch for this.'"
+
+"Such a falsehood, madame, would be cruel. Why give so vain a hope to
+the poor mother?"
+
+"But, supposing it were not a falsehood, sir? or, rather, if the
+supposition could be realised?"
+
+"By a miracle? If it only required my prayers to be united with your own
+to obtain this result, I would give them to you from the bottom of my
+heart,--believe me, madame. Unfortunately, the register of decease is
+strictly regular."
+
+"Oh, yes, sir, I know well enough that the child is dead; and yet, if
+you will agree, that misfortune need not be irreparable."
+
+"Is this some riddle, madame?"
+
+"I will speak more clearly. If my sister were to-morrow to recover her
+daughter, she would be certain not only to be restored to health, but to
+be wedded to the father of her child, who is now as free as herself. My
+niece died at six years old. Separated from her parents from a very
+tender age, they have not the slightest recollection of her. Suppose a
+young girl of seventeen was produced (my niece would be about that
+age),--a young girl (such as there are many) forsaken by her
+parents,--and it was said to my sister, 'Here's your daughter, for you
+have been imposed upon. Important interests have required that she
+should have been said to be dead. The female who brought her up and a
+respectable notary will confirm these facts, and prove to you that it is
+really she--'"
+
+Jacques Ferrand, after having allowed the countess to speak on without
+interruption, rose abruptly, and exclaimed, with an indignant air:
+
+"Madame, this is infamous!"
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"To dare to propose such a thing to me--to me! A supposititious child,
+the destruction of a registry of decease; a criminal act, indeed! It is
+the first time in my life that I was ever subjected to so outrageous a
+proposal,--a proposal I have not merited, and you know it!"
+
+"But, sir, what wrong does this do to any one? My sister and the
+individual she desires to marry are widow and widower, and childless,
+both bitterly lamenting the child they have lost. To deceive them is to
+restore them to happiness, to life, is to ensure a happy destiny to some
+poor, forsaken girl; and it becomes, therefore, a noble, a generous
+action, and not a crime!"
+
+"Really, madame, I marvel to see how the most execrable projects may be
+coloured, so as to pass for beautiful pictures!"
+
+"But, sir, reflect--"
+
+"I repeat to you, madame, that it is infamous! And it is shameful to see
+a lady of your rank lend herself to such abominable machinations,--to
+which, I trust, your sister is a stranger."
+
+"Sir--"
+
+"Enough, madame, enough! I am not a polished gentleman, I am not, and I
+shall speak my mind bluntly."
+
+Sarah gave the notary a piercing look with her jet-black eyes, and said,
+coldly:
+
+"You refuse?"
+
+"I pray, madame, that you will not again insult me."
+
+"Beware!"
+
+"What! Threats?"
+
+"Threats! And that you may learn they are not vain ones, learn, first,
+that I have no sister--"
+
+"What, madame?"
+
+"I am the mother of this child!"
+
+"You?"
+
+"I--I made a circuitous route to reach my end--coined a tale to excite
+your interest; but you are pitiless. I raise the mask, you are for war.
+Well, war be it then!"
+
+"War! Because I refuse to associate myself with you in a criminal
+machination! What audacity!"
+
+"Listen to me, sir! Your reputation as an honest man is established,
+acknowledged, undisputed--"
+
+"Because deserved; and, therefore, you must have lost your reason to
+make me such a proposal as you have done, and then threaten me because I
+will not accede to it."
+
+"I know, sir, better than any one how much reputations for immaculate
+virtue are to be distrusted; they often mask wantonness in women and
+roguery in men."
+
+"Madame?"
+
+"Ever since our conversation began,--I do not know why, but I have
+mistrusted your claim to the esteem and consideration which you enjoy."
+
+"Really, madame, your mistrust does honour to your penetration!"
+
+"Does it not? For this mistrust is based on mere nothings--on
+instinct--on inexplicable presentiments; but these intimations have
+rarely beguiled me."
+
+"Madame, let us terminate this conversation."
+
+"First learn my determination. I begin by telling you that I am
+convinced of the death of my poor daughter. But, no matter, I shall
+pretend that she is not dead: the most unlikely things do happen. You
+are at this moment in a position of which very many must be envious, and
+would be delighted at any weapon with which to assail you. I will supply
+one."
+
+"You?"
+
+"I, by attacking you under some absurd pretext, some irregularity in the
+declaration of death; say--no matter what--I will insist that my child
+is not dead. As I have the greatest interest in making it believed that
+she is still alive, though lost, this action will be useful to me in
+giving a wide circulation to the affair. A mother who claims her child
+is always interesting; and I should have with me those who envy
+you,--your enemies, and every sensitive and romantic mind."
+
+"This is as mad as it is malevolent! What motive could I have in making
+your daughter pass for dead, if she were not really defunct?"
+
+"That is true enough, and the motive may be difficult to find; but,
+then, have we not the attorneys and barristers at our elbows? Now I
+think of it (excellent idea!), desirous of sharing with your client the
+sum sunk in the annuity on this unfortunate child, you caused her
+disappearance."
+
+The unabashed notary shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"If I had been criminal enough for that, instead of causing its
+disappearance, I should have killed it!"
+
+Sarah started with surprise, remained silent for a moment, and then
+said, with bitterness:
+
+"For a pious man, this is an idea of crime deeply reflective! Can I by
+chance, then, have hit the mark when I fired at random? I must think of
+this,--and think I will. One other word. You see the sort of woman I am:
+I crush without remorse all obstacles that lie in my onward path.
+Reflect well, then, for to-morrow this must be decided on. You may do
+what I ask you with impunity. In his joy, the father of my daughter will
+not think of doubting the possibility of his child's restoration, if our
+falsehoods, which will make him happy, are adroitly combined. Besides,
+he has no other proofs of the death of our daughter than those I wrote
+to him of fourteen years ago, and I could easily persuade him that I had
+deceived him on this subject; for then I had real causes of complaint
+against him. I will tell him that in my grief I was desirous of breaking
+every existing tie that bound us to each other. You cannot, therefore,
+be compromised in any way. Affirm only, irreproachable man. Affirm that
+all was in former days concerted between us,--you and me and Madame
+Séraphin,--and you will be credited. As to the fifteen thousand francs
+sunk in an annuity for my child, that is my affair solely. They will
+remain acquired by your client, who must be kept profoundly ignorant of
+this; and, moreover, you shall yourself name your own recompense."
+
+Jacques Ferrand maintained all his _sang-froid_ in spite of the
+singularity of his situation, remarkable and dangerous as it was. The
+countess, really believing in the death of her daughter, had proposed to
+the notary to pass off the dead child as living, whom, living, he had
+declared to have died fourteen years before. He was too clever, and too
+well acquainted with the perils of his position, not to understand the
+effect of all Sarah's threats. His reputation, although admirably and
+laboriously built up, was based on a substructure of sand. The public
+detaches itself as easily as it becomes infatuated, liking to have the
+right to trample under foot him whom but just now it elevated to the
+skies. How could the consequences of the first assault on the reputation
+of Jacques Ferrand be foreseen? However absurd the attack might be, its
+very boldness might give rise to suspicions. Wishing to gain time to
+determine on the mode by which he would seek to parry the dangerous
+blow, the notary said, frigidly, to Sarah:
+
+"You have given me, madame, until to-morrow at noon; I give you until
+the next day to renounce a plot whose serious nature you do not seem to
+have contemplated. If, between this and then, I do not receive from you
+a letter informing me that you have abandoned this criminal and crazy
+enterprise, you will learn to your cost that Justice knows how to
+protect honest people who refuse guilty associations, and what may
+happen to the concoctors of hateful machinations."
+
+"You mean to say, sir, that you ask from me one more day to reflect on
+my proposals? That is a good sign, and I grant the delay. The day after
+to-morrow, at this hour, I will come here again, and it shall be between
+us peace or war,--I repeat it,--but a 'war to the knife,' without mercy
+or pity."
+
+And Sarah left the room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"All goes well," she said. "This miserable girl, in whom Rodolph
+capriciously takes so much interest, and has sent to the farm at
+Bouqueval, in order, no doubt, to make her his mistress hereafter, is no
+longer to be feared,--thanks to the one-eyed woman who has freed me from
+her. Rodolph's adroitness has saved Madame d'Harville from the snare
+into which I meant she should fall; but it is impossible that she can
+escape from the fresh plot I have laid for her, and thus she must be for
+ever lost to Rodolph. Thus, saddened, discouraged, isolated from all
+affection, will he not be in a frame of mind such as will best suit my
+purpose of making him the dupe of a falsehood to which, by the notary's
+aid, I can give every impress of truth? And the notary will aid me, for
+I have frightened him. I shall easily find a young orphan girl,
+interesting and poor, who, taught her lesson by me, will fill the
+character of our child so bitterly mourned by Rodolph. I know the
+expansiveness, the generosity of his heart,--yes, to give a name, a rank
+to her whom he will believe to be his daughter, till now forsaken and
+abandoned, he will renew those bonds between us which I believed
+indissoluble. The predictions of my nurse will be at length realised,
+and I shall thus and then attain the constant aim of my life,--a crown!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sarah had scarcely left the notary before M. Charles Robert entered,
+after alighting from a very dashing cabriolet. He went like a person on
+most intimate terms to the private room of Jacques Ferrand.
+
+The commandant, as Madame Pipelet called him, entered without ceremony
+into the notary's cabinet, whom he found in a surly, bilious mood, and
+who thus accosted him:
+
+"I reserve the afternoon for my clients; when you wish to speak to me
+come in the morning, will you?"
+
+"My dear lawyer" (this was a standing pleasantry of M. Robert), "I have
+a very important matter to talk about in the first place, and, in the
+next, I was anxious to assure you in person against any alarms you might
+have--"
+
+"What alarms?"
+
+"What! Haven't you heard?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Of my duel--"
+
+"Your duel?"
+
+"With the Duke de Lucenay. Is it possible you have not heard of it?"
+
+"Quite possible."
+
+"Pooh! pooh!"
+
+"But what did you fight about?"
+
+"A very serious matter, which called for bloodshed. Only imagine that,
+at a very large party, M. de Lucenay actually said that I had a phlegmy
+cough!"
+
+"That you had--"
+
+"A phlegmy cough, my dear lawyer; a complaint which is really most
+ridiculously absurd!"
+
+"And did you fight about that?"
+
+"What the devil would you have a man fight about? Can you imagine that a
+man could stand calmly and hear himself charged with having a phlegmy
+cough? And before a lovely woman, too! Before a little marchioness,
+who--who--In a word, I could not stand it!"
+
+"Really!"
+
+"The military men, you see, are always sensitive. My seconds went, the
+day before yesterday, to try and obtain some explanation from those of
+the duke. I put the matter perfectly straight,--a duel or an ample
+apology."
+
+"An ample apology for what?"
+
+"For the phlegmy cough, _pardieu!_--the phlegmy cough that he fastened
+on me."
+
+The notary shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"The duke's seconds said, 'We bear testimony to the honourable
+character of M. Charles Robert, but M. de Lucenay cannot, ought not, and
+will not retract.' 'Then, gentlemen,' replied my seconds, 'M. de Lucenay
+is obstinately determined to assert that M. Charles Robert has a phlegmy
+cough?' 'Yes, gentlemen, but he does not therefore mean in the slightest
+way to impugn the high respectability of M. Charles Robert.' 'Then let
+him retract--' 'No, gentlemen, M. de Lucenay acknowledges M. Robert as a
+most decidedly worthy gentleman, but still asserts that he has a phlegmy
+cough.' You see there was no means of arranging so serious an affair."
+
+"To be sure not. You were insulted in the point which a man holds
+dearest."
+
+"Wasn't I? Well, time and place were agreed on; and yesterday morning we
+met at Vincennes, and everything passed off in the most honourable
+manner possible. I touched M. de Lucenay slightly in the arm, and the
+seconds declared that honour was satisfied. Then the duke, with a loud
+voice, said, 'I never retract before a meeting, but, afterwards, it is a
+very different thing. It is, therefore, my duty, and my honour impels me
+to declare, that I falsely accused M. Charles Robert of having a phlegmy
+cough. Gentlemen, I not only declare that my honourable opponent had not
+a phlegmy cough, but I trust he never will have one.' Then the duke
+extended his hand in the most cordial manner, saying,'Are you now
+satisfied?' 'We are friends through life and death,' I replied; and it
+was really due to him to say so. The duke has behaved to perfection.
+Either he might have said nothing, or contented himself with declaring
+that I had not the phlegmy cough. But to express his wish that I might
+never have it, was a most delicate attention on his part."
+
+"This is what I call courage well employed! But what do you want?"
+
+"My dear cashkeeper" (this was another of M. Robert's habitual
+pleasantries), "it is a matter of great importance to me. You know
+that, according to our agreement, I have advanced to you three hundred
+and fifty thousand francs (14,000_l._) to complete a particular payment
+you had; and it was stipulated that I was to give you three months'
+notice of my wish to withdraw that money, the interest of which you pay
+me regularly."
+
+"Go on."
+
+"Well," said M. Robert, hesitatingly, "I--no--that is--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, it is only a whim of becoming a landed proprietor."
+
+"Come to the point, pray! You annoy me."
+
+"In a word, then, I am anxious to become a landed proprietor. And, if
+not inconvenient to you, I should like--that is I should wish--to have
+my funds now in your hands; and I came to say so."
+
+"Ah, ah!"
+
+"That does not offend you, I hope?"
+
+"Why should I be offended?"
+
+"Because you might think--"
+
+"I might think--?"
+
+"That I am the echo of certain reports--"
+
+"What reports?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. Mere folly."
+
+"But, tell me--"
+
+"Oh, there can be no certainty in the gossip about you!"
+
+"What gossip?"
+
+"Oh, it is false from beginning to end. But there are chatterers who say
+that you are mixed up in some unpleasant transactions. Idle gossip, I am
+quite certain. It is just the same as the report that you and I
+speculated on the Exchange together. These reports soon died away. For I
+will always say that--"
+
+"So you suppose that your money is not safe with me?"
+
+"Oh, no--no! But, at this moment, I should like to have it in my own
+hands."
+
+"Wait a moment." M. Ferrand shut the drawer of his bureau, and rose.
+
+"Where are you going, my dear cashkeeper?"
+
+"To fetch what will convince you of the truth of the reports as to the
+embarrassment of my affairs," said the notary, ironically; and, opening
+the door of a small private staircase, which enabled him to go into the
+pavilion at the back without passing through the office, he disappeared.
+He had scarce left the room, when the head clerk rapped again.
+
+"Come in," said Charles Robert.
+
+"Is not M. Ferrand here?"
+
+"No, my worthy pounce and parchment" (another joke of M. Robert).
+
+"There is a lady with a veil on, who wishes to see my employer this
+moment on a very urgent affair."
+
+"Worthy quill-driver, the excellent employer will be here in a moment,
+and I will inform him. Is the lady handsome?"
+
+"One must be very keen-sighted to discover; for she has on a black veil,
+so thick that it is impossible to see her face."
+
+"Really, really, I will make her show her face as I go out. I'll tell
+the governor as soon as he returns."
+
+The clerk left the room.
+
+"Where the devil has the attorney at law vanished?" said M. Charles
+Robert. "To examine the state of his finances, no doubt. If these
+reports are groundless, so much the better. And, when all is said and
+done, they can but be false reports. Men of Jacques Ferrand's honesty
+always have so many people jealous of them! Still, at the same time, I
+should just as well like to have my own cash. I will certainly buy the
+château in question. There are towers and Gothic turrets quite _ŕ la
+Louis Quatorze_, the real _renaissance_, and, in a word, all that is
+most _rococo_. It would give me a kind of landed proprietor's sort of
+air which would be capital. It would not be like my _amour_ with that
+flirt of a Madame d'Harville. Has she really cut me? Can she really have
+given me the 'go-by?' No, no! I am not trifled with as that stupid
+porteress in the Rue du Temple, with her bob-wig, says. Yet this
+agreeable little flirtation has cost me at least one thousand crowns.
+True, the furniture is left, and I have quite enough in my power to
+compromise the marchioness. But here comes the lawyer!"
+
+M. Ferrand returned, holding in his hands some papers, which he handed
+to M. Charles Robert.
+
+"Here," said he, "are three hundred and fifty thousand francs in
+bank-bills. In a few days we will balance the account of interest. Give
+me a receipt."
+
+"What!" exclaimed M. Robert, astonished; "do not go to think that--"
+
+"I don't think anything."
+
+"But--"
+
+"The receipt!"
+
+"Dear cashkeeper!"
+
+"Write it; and tell the persons who talk to you of my embarrassments,
+how I reply to such suspicions."
+
+"The fact is that, as soon as they hear this, your credit will be more
+solid than ever. But, really, take the money back again; I do not want
+it at this moment. I told you it was three months hence."
+
+"Monsieur Charles Robert, no man suspects me twice."
+
+"You are angry?"
+
+"The receipt,--the receipt!"
+
+"Man of iron, that you are!" said M. Charles Robert. "There!" he added,
+writing the receipt. "There is a lady, closely veiled, who desires to
+speak to you directly on a very urgent affair. Won't I have a good look
+at her as I go out! There's your receipt; is it all right?"
+
+"Quite. Now I'll thank you to go out this way."
+
+"And so not see the lady?"
+
+"Precisely so."
+
+And the notary rang; and when the chief clerk made his appearance, he
+said:
+
+"Ask the lady to walk in. Good day, M. Robert."
+
+"Well, I see I must give up the chance of seeing her. Don't bear malice,
+lawyer. Believe me, if--"
+
+"There--there; that'll do. Good-bye." And the notary shut the door on M.
+Charles Robert.
+
+After the lapse of a few moments, the chief clerk introduced the Duchess
+de Lucenay, very simply attired, wearing a large shawl, and her features
+entirely concealed by a thick veil of black lace, depending from her
+watered silk bonnet of the same colour.
+
+Madame de Lucenay, a good deal agitated, walked slowly towards the
+notary's bureau, who advanced a few paces to meet her.
+
+"Who are you, madame; and what may be your business with me?" said
+Jacques Ferrand, abruptly; for Sarah's menaces and M. Charles Robert's
+suspicions had a good deal ruffled him. Moreover, the duchess was clad
+so simply, that the notary did not see any reason why he should not be
+rude. As she did not immediately reply, he continued, abruptly:
+
+"Will you be so kind as to inform me, madame?"
+
+"Sir," she said, in a faltering voice, and endeavouring to conceal her
+face in the folds of her veil, "Sir, may I entrust you with a secret of
+extreme importance?"
+
+"You may trust me with anything, madame. But it is requisite that I
+should know and see to whom I speak."
+
+"That, sir, perhaps, is not necessary. I know that you are probity and
+honour itself--"
+
+"To the point, madame,--to the point. I have some one waiting for me.
+Who are you?"
+
+"My name is of no consequence, sir. One--of--my friends,--a
+relative,--has just left you."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"M. Florestan de Saint-Remy."
+
+"Ah!" said the notary; and he cast a scrutinising and steadfast glance
+on the duchess. Then he added, "Well, madame?"
+
+"M. de Saint-Remy has told me--all,--sir!"
+
+"What has he told you, madame?"
+
+"All!"
+
+"What all?"
+
+"Sir; you know--"
+
+"I know many things about M. de Saint-Remy."
+
+"Alas, sir, this is a terrible thing!"
+
+"I know many terrible things about M. de Saint-Remy."
+
+"Oh, sir, he was right when he told me that you were pitiless."
+
+"For swindlers and forgers like him,--yes, I am pitiless. So this
+Saint-Remy is a relative of yours? Instead of owning it, you ought to
+blush at it. Do you mean to try and soften me with your tears? It is
+useless,--not to add that you have undertaken a very disgraceful task
+for a respectable female."
+
+At this coarse insolence the pride and patrician blood of the duchess
+revolted. She drew herself up, threw back her veil; and then, with a
+lofty air, imperious glance, and firm voice, said:
+
+"I am the Duchess de Lucenay, sir!"
+
+The lady then assumed the lofty look of her station; and her appearance
+was so imposing that the notary, controlled, fascinated, receded a pace,
+quite overcome, took off mechanically the black silk cap that covered
+his cranium, and made a low bow.
+
+In truth, nothing could be more charming and aristocratic than the face
+and figure of Madame de Lucenay, although she was turned thirty, and her
+features were pale and somewhat agitated. But then she had full, brown
+eyes, sparkling and bold; splendid black hair; a nose thin and arched;
+a lip red and disdainful; a dazzling complexion; teeth of ivory; and a
+form tall and slender, graceful, and full of distinction,--the carriage
+of a goddess in the clouds, as the immortal Saint-Simon says. With her
+hair powdered, and a costume of the eighteenth century, Madame de
+Lucenay would have represented, physically and morally, one of those gay
+and careless duchesses of the Regency who carried on their flirtations
+(or worse) with so much audacity, giddiness, and real kindness of heart,
+who confessed their peccadilloes from time to time with so much candour
+and naďveté, that the most punctilious said, with a smile, "She is,
+doubtless, light and culpable; but she is so kind--so delightful; loves
+with so much intensity, passion, and fidelity,--as long as she does
+love,--that we cannot really be angry with her. After all, she only
+injures herself, and makes so many others happy!" Except the powder and
+the large skirts to her dress, such also was Madame de Lucenay, when not
+depressed by sombre thoughts. She entered the office of M. Jacques
+Ferrand like a plain tradesman's wife; in the instant she came forth as
+a great, proud, and irritated lady. Jacques Ferrand had never in his
+life seen a woman of such striking beauty,--so haughty and bold, and so
+noble in her demeanour. The look of the duchess, her glorious eyes,
+encircled with an imperceptible bow of azure, her rosy nostrils, much
+dilated, betokened her ardent nature.
+
+Although old, ugly, ignoble, and sordid, Jacques Ferrand was as capable
+as any one of appreciating the style of beauty of Madame de Lucenay. The
+hatred and rage which the notary felt against M. de Saint-Remy was
+increased by the admiration which his proud and lovely mistress inspired
+in him. Devoured by all his repressed passions, he said to himself, in
+an agony of rage, that this gentleman forger, whom he had compelled
+almost to fall at his feet when he threatened him with the assizes,
+could inspire such love in such a woman that she actually risked the
+present step in his behalf, which might prove fatal to her reputation.
+As he thus thought, the notary felt his boldness, which had been for a
+moment paralysed, restored to him. Hatred, envy, a kind of savage and
+burning resentment, lighted up his eyes, his forehead, and his cheeks.
+Seeing Madame de Lucenay on the point of commencing so delicate a
+conversation, he expected from her caution and management. What was his
+astonishment! She spoke with as much assurance and haughtiness as if she
+were discoursing about the simplest thing in the world; and as if,
+before a man of his sort, she had no care for reserve or those
+concealments which she would assuredly have maintained with her equals.
+In fact, the coarse brutality of the notary wounded her to the quick,
+and had led Madame de Lucenay to quit the humble and supplicating part
+she was acting with much difficulty to herself. Returned to herself, she
+thought it beneath her to descend to the least concealment with a mere
+scribbler of acts and deeds. High-spirited, charitable, generous,
+overflowing with kindness, warm-heartedness, and energy, in spite of her
+faults,--but the daughter of a mother of no principle, and who had even
+disgraced the noble and respectable, though fallen position of an
+_émigrée_,--Madame de Lucenay, in her inborn contempt for certain
+classes, would have said with the Roman empress who took her bath in the
+presence of a male slave, "He is not a man!"
+
+"Monsieur Notary," said the duchess, with a determined air, to Jacques
+Ferrand, "M. de Saint-Remy is one of my friends, and has confided to me
+the embarrassment under which he is at this moment suffering, from a
+twofold treachery of which he is the victim. All is arranged as to the
+money. How much is required to terminate these miserable annoyances?"
+
+Jacques Ferrand was actually aghast at this cavalier and deliberate
+manner of entering on this affair.
+
+"One hundred thousand francs are required," he repeated, after having in
+some degree surmounted his surprise.
+
+"You shall have your one hundred thousand francs; so send, at once,
+these annoying papers to M. de Saint-Remy."
+
+"Where are the one hundred thousand francs, Madame la Duchesse?"
+
+"Have I not said you should have them, sir?"
+
+"I must have them to-morrow, and before noon, madame; or else
+proceedings will be instantly commenced for the forgery."
+
+"Well, do you pay this sum, which I will repay to you."
+
+"But madame, it is impossible."
+
+"But, sir, you will not tell me, I imagine, that a notary, like you,
+cannot find one hundred thousand francs by to-morrow morning?"
+
+"On what securities, madame?"
+
+"What do you mean? Explain!"
+
+"Who will be answerable to me for this sum?"
+
+"I will."
+
+"Still, madame--"
+
+"Need I say that I have an estate four leagues from Paris, which brings
+me in eighty thousand francs (3,200_l._) a year? That will suffice, I
+should think, for what you call your securities?"
+
+"Yes, madame, when the mortgage is properly secured."
+
+"What do you mean? Some formality of law, no doubt? Do it, sir, do it."
+
+"Such a deed cannot be drawn up in less than a fortnight, and we must
+have your husband's assent, madame."
+
+"But the estate is mine, and mine only," said the duchess, impatiently.
+
+"No matter, madame, you have a husband; and mortgage deeds are very long
+and very minute."
+
+"But, once again, sir, you will not ask me to believe that it is so
+difficult to find one hundred thousand francs in two hours?"
+
+"Then, madame, apply to the notary you usually employ, or your steward;
+as for me, it is impossible."
+
+"I have my reasons for keeping this secret," said Madame de Lucenay,
+haughtily. "You know the rogues who seek to take advantage of M. de
+Saint-Remy, and that is the reason why I address myself to you."
+
+"Your confidence does me much honour, madame; but I cannot do what you
+ask of me."
+
+"You have not this sum?"
+
+"I have much more than that sum, in bank-notes or bright and good gold,
+here in my chest."
+
+"Then why waste time about it? You require my signature, I suppose?
+Well, let me give it to you, and let us end the matter."
+
+"Even admitting, madame, that you were Madame de Lucenay--"
+
+"Come to the Hôtel de Lucenay in one hour, sir, and I will sign whatever
+may be requisite."
+
+"And will the duke sign, also?"
+
+"I do not understand, sir."
+
+"Your signature, alone, would be worthless to me, madame."
+
+Jacques Ferrand delighted, with cruel joy, in the manifest impatience of
+the duchess, who, under the appearance of coolness and hauteur,
+repressed really painful agony.
+
+For an instant she was at her wits' end. On the previous evening, her
+jeweller had advanced her a considerable sum on her jewels, some of
+which had been confided to Morel, the lapidary. This sum had been
+employed in paying the bills of M. de Saint-Remy, and thus disarming the
+other creditors; M. Dubreuil, the farmer of Arnouville, was more than a
+year's rent in advance on the farm; and, then, the time was so
+pressing. Still more unfortunately for Madame de Lucenay, two of her
+friends, to whom she could have had recourse in this moment of distress,
+were then absent from Paris. In her eyes, the viscount was innocent of
+the forgery. He had said, and she had believed him, that he was the
+victim of two rogues; but yet his position was not the less terrible. He
+accused! He led to prison! And, even if he took flight, his name would
+be no less dishonoured by the suspicion that would light on him. At
+these distressing thoughts, Madame de Lucenay trembled with affright.
+She blindly loved this man, at the same time so degraded, and gifted
+with such strong seductive powers; and her passion for him was one of
+those affections which women, of her character and her temperament,
+ordinarily experience when they attain an age of maturity.
+
+Jacques Ferrand carefully watched every variation in the physiognomy of
+Madame de Lucenay, who seemed to him more lovely and attractive at every
+moment, and awakened still more his ardent feeling. Yet he felt a fierce
+pleasure in tormenting, by his refusals, this female, who could only
+entertain disgust and contempt for him. The lady had spurned the idea of
+saying a word to the notary that might seem like a supplication; yet,
+when she found the uselessness of other attempts, which she had
+addressed to him who alone could save M. de Saint-Remy, she said, at
+length, trying to repress all evidence of emotion:
+
+"Since you have the sum of money which I ask of you, sir, and my
+guarantee is sufficient, why do you refuse it to me?"
+
+"Because men have their caprices, as well as ladies, madame."
+
+"Well, what is this caprice which thus impels you to act against your
+own interest? For I repeat, sir, that whatever may be your conditions, I
+accept them."
+
+"You will accept all my conditions, madame?" said the notary, with a
+singular expression.
+
+"All,--two, three, four thousand francs, more, if you please. For you
+must know, sir," added the duchess, in a tone almost confidential, "I
+have no resource but in you, sir, and in you only. It will be impossible
+for me at this moment to find elsewhere what I require for to-morrow,
+and I must have it, as you know,--I must absolutely have it. Thus I
+repeat to you that, whatever terms you require for this service, I
+accept them; nothing will be a sacrifice to me,--nothing."
+
+The breath of the notary became thick, and, in his ignoble blindness, he
+interpreted the last words of Madame de Lucenay in an unworthy manner.
+He saw, through his darkened understanding, a woman as bold as some of
+the females of the old court,--a woman driven to her wits' end for fear
+of the dishonour of him whom she loved, and capable, perhaps, of any
+sacrifice to save him. It was even more stupid than infamous to think
+so, but, as we have said already, Jacques Ferrand sometimes, though
+rarely, forgot himself.
+
+He quitted his chair abruptly, and approached Madame de Lucenay, who,
+surprised, rose when he did, and looked at him with much astonishment.
+
+"Nothing will be a sacrifice to you, say you? To you, who are so
+lovely?" he exclaimed, with a voice trembling and broken with agitation,
+as he went towards the duchess. "Well, then, I will lend you this sum,
+on one condition,--one condition only,--and I swear to you--"
+
+He could not finish his declaration.
+
+By one of those singular contradictions of human nature, at the sight of
+the singularly ugly features of M. Ferrand, at the strange and whimsical
+thoughts which arose in Madame de Lucenay's mind, at his ridiculous
+pretensions, which she guessed in spite of her disquietude and anxiety,
+she burst into a fit of laughter, so hearty, so loud, and so excessive,
+that the disconcerted notary reeled back. Then, without allowing him a
+moment to utter another word, the duchess gave way still more to her
+increasing mirth, lowered her veil, and, between two bursts of
+irrepressible laughter, she said to the notary, overwhelmed by hatred,
+rage, and fury:
+
+"Really, I should much rather prefer asking this advance from M. de
+Lucenay."
+
+She then left the room, laughing so heartily that, even when the door of
+his room was closed, the notary heard her still.
+
+Jacques Ferrand no sooner recovered his reason than he cursed his
+imprudence; but he became reassured on reflecting that the duchess could
+not allude to this adventure without compromising herself. Still, the
+day had been unpropitious, and he was plunged in thought when the door
+of his study opened, and Madame Séraphin entered in great agitation.
+
+"Ah, Ferrand," she exclaimed, "you were right when you declared that,
+one day or other, we should be ruined for having allowed her to live!"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"That cursed little girl!"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"A one-eyed woman, whom I did not know, and to whom Tournemine gave the
+little chit to get rid of her, fourteen years ago, when we wished to
+make her pass for dead--Ah, who would have thought it!"
+
+"Speak! Speak! Why don't you speak?"
+
+"This one-eyed woman has been here, was down-stairs just now, and told
+me that she knew it was I who had delivered up the little brat."
+
+"Malediction! Who could have told her? Tournemine is at the galleys."
+
+"I denied it, and treated the one-eyed woman as a liar. But bah! she
+declares she knows where the girl is now, and that she has grown up,
+that she has her, and that it only depends on her to discover
+everything."
+
+"Is hell, then, unchained against me to-day?" exclaimed the notary, in a
+fit of rage. "What shall I say to this woman? What shall I offer her to
+hold her tongue? Does she seem well off?"
+
+"As I treated her like a beggar, she shook her hand-basket, and there
+was money inside of it."
+
+"And she knows where this young girl is now?"
+
+"So she says."
+
+"And she is the daughter of the Countess Sarah Macgregor!" said the
+stupefied notary; "and just now she offered me so much to declare that
+her daughter was not dead; and the girl is alive, and I can restore her
+to her mother! But, then, the false register of her death! If a search
+were made, I am ruined! This crime may put others on the scent."
+
+After a moment's silence, he said to Madame Séraphin:
+
+"This one-eyed woman knows where the child is?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And the woman will call again?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Write to Polidori, to come to me this evening, at nine o'clock."
+
+"What! Will you rid yourself of the young girl and the old woman, too?
+Ferrand, that will be too much at once!"
+
+"I bid you write to Polidori, to come here this evening, at nine
+o'clock!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the end of this day, Rodolph said to Murphy: "Desire M. de Graün to
+despatch a courier this instant; Cecily must be in Paris in six days."
+
+"What! that she-devil again? The diabolical wife of poor David, as
+beautiful as she is infamous! For what purpose, monseigneur?"
+
+"For what purpose, Sir Walter Murphy? Ask that question, in a month
+hence, of the notary, Jacques Ferrand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE ANONYMOUS LETTER.
+
+
+Towards ten o'clock in the evening of the same day in which
+Fleur-de-Marie was carried off by the Chouette and Schoolmaster, a man
+on horseback arrived at the Bouqueval farm, representing himself as
+coming from M. Rodolph to tranquillise Madame Georges as to the safety
+of her young friend, and to assure her of her safe return ere long. The
+man further stated that M. Rodolph, having very important reasons for
+making the request, particularly desired no letters might be addressed
+to him at Paris for the present; but that, in the event of Madame
+Georges having anything particular to communicate, the messenger now
+sent would take charge of it, and deliver it punctually.
+
+This pretended envoy on the part of Rodolph was, in fact, an emissary
+sent by Sarah, who, by this stratagem, effected the twofold purpose of
+quieting the apprehensions of Madame Georges and also obtaining a delay
+of several days ere Rodolph learned that the Goualeuse had been carried
+off; during which interval Sarah hoped to have induced the notary,
+Jacques Ferrand, to promote her unworthy attempt to impose a
+supposititious child on Rodolph, after the manner which has already been
+related. Nor was this all the evil planned by the countess; she ardently
+desired to get rid of Madame d'Harville, on whose account she
+entertained very serious misgivings, and whose destruction she had so
+nearly compassed, but for the timely interposition of Rodolph.
+
+On the day following that in which the marquis followed his wife into
+the house in the Rue du Temple, Tom repaired thither, and, by skilfully
+drawing Madame Pipelet into conversation, contrived to learn from her
+how a young and elegantly dressed lady, upon the point of being
+surprised by her husband, had been preserved through the presence of
+mind and cleverness of a lodger in the house, named M. Rodolph.
+
+Once informed of this circumstance, and possessing no positive proof of
+the assignation made by Clémence with M. Charles Robert, Sarah conceived
+a plan evidently more hateful than the former: she resolved to despatch
+a second anonymous letter to M. d'Harville, calculated to bring about a
+complete rupture between himself and Rodolph; or, failing that, to
+infuse into the mind of the marquis suspicions so unworthy of his wife
+and friend as should induce him to forbid Madame d'Harville ever
+admitting the prince into her society.
+
+This black and malignant epistle was couched in the following terms:
+
+    "... You have been grossly deceived the other day; your wife,
+    being apprised of your following her, invented a tale of
+    imaginary beneficence; the real purpose of her visit to the Rue
+    du Temple was to fulfil an assignation with an august personage,
+    who has hired a room on the fourth floor in the house situated
+    Rue du Temple,--this illustrious individual being known only at
+    his lodging under the simple name of Rodolph. Should you doubt
+    these facts, which may probably appear to you too improbable to
+    deserve credit, go to No. 17 Rue du Temple, and make due
+    inquiries; obtain a description of the face and figure of the
+    august personage alluded to; and you will be compelled to own
+    yourself the most credulous and easily duped husband that was
+    ever so royally supplanted in the affections of his wife.
+    Despise not this advice, if you would not have the world believe
+    you carry your devotion to your prince rather too far."
+
+This infamous concoction was put into the post by Sarah herself, about
+five o'clock in the afternoon of the day which had witnessed her
+interview with the notary.
+
+On this same day, after having given renewed directions to M. de Graün
+to expedite the arrival of Cecily in Paris by every means in his power,
+Rodolph prepared to pass the evening with the Ambassadress of ----, and
+on his return to call on Madame d'Harville, for the purpose of informing
+her he had found a charitable intrigue worthy even of her coöperation.
+
+We shall now conduct our readers to the hôtel of Madame d'Harville. The
+following dialogue will abundantly prove that, in adopting a tone of
+kind and gentle conciliation towards a husband she had hitherto treated
+with such invariable coldness and reserve, the heart of Madame
+d'Harville had already determined to practise the sound and virtuous
+sentiments dictated by Rodolph. The marquis and his lady had just
+quitted the dinner-table, and the scene we are about to describe took
+place in the elegant little salon we have already spoken of. The
+features of Clémence wore an expression of kindness almost amounting to
+tenderness, and even M. d'Harville appeared less sad and dejected than
+usual. It only remains to premise that the marquis had not as yet
+received the last infamous production of the pen of Sarah Macgregor.
+
+"What are your arrangements for this evening?" inquired M. d'Harville,
+almost mechanically, of his wife.
+
+"I have no intention of going out. And what are your own plans?"
+
+"I hardly know," answered he, with a sigh. "I feel more than ordinarily
+averse to gaiety, and I shall pass my evening, as I have passed many
+others, alone."
+
+"Nay, but why alone, since I am not going out?"
+
+M. d'Harville gazed at his wife as though unable to comprehend her. "I
+am aware," said he, "that you mentioned your intention to pass this
+evening at home; still, I--"
+
+"Pray go on, my lord."
+
+"I did not imagine you would choose to have your solitude broken in
+upon. I believe you have always expressed a wish to be alone when you
+did not receive company?"
+
+"Perhaps I may have done so," said Clémence, with a smile; "but let me,
+for once, plead my sex's privilege of changing my mind, and so, even at
+the risk of astonishing you by my caprice, I will own that I should
+greatly prefer sharing my solitude with you,--that is, if it would be
+quite agreeable to you."
+
+"Oh, how very good of you," exclaimed M. d'Harville, with much delight,
+"thus to anticipate my most ardent desire, which I durst not have
+requested had you not so kindly encouraged me!"
+
+"Ah, my lord, your very surprise is a severe reproach to me."
+
+"A reproach! Oh, not for worlds would I have you so understand me! But
+to find you so kindly considerate, so attentive to my wishes, after my
+cruel and unjust conduct the other day, does, I confess, both shame and
+surprise me; though the surprise is of the most gratifying and
+delightful sort."
+
+"Come, come, my lord," said Madame d'Harville, with a smile of heavenly
+sweetness, "let the past be for ever forgotten between us."
+
+"Can you, Clémence," said M. d'Harville, "can you bring yourself to
+forget that I have dared to suspect you; that, hurried on by a wild,
+insensate jealousy, I meditated violence I now shudder to think of?
+Still, what are even these deep offences to the greater and more
+irreparable wrong I have done you?"
+
+"Again I say," returned Clémence, making a violent effort to command
+herself, "let us forget the past."
+
+"What do I hear? Can you,--oh, is it possible you will pardon me, and
+forget all the past?"
+
+"I will try to do so, and I fear not but I shall succeed."
+
+"Oh, Clémence! Can you, indeed, be so generous? But no, no,--I dare not
+hope it! I have long since resigned all expectation that such happiness
+would ever be mine."
+
+"And now you see how wrong you were in coming to such a conclusion."
+
+"But how comes this blessed change? Or do I dream? Speak to me,
+Clémence! Tell me I am not deceiving myself,--that all is not mere
+illusion! Speak! Say that I may trust my senses!"
+
+"Indeed you may; I mean all I have said."
+
+"And, now I look at you, I see more kindness in your eye,--your manner
+is less cold,--your voice tremulous. Oh, tell me, tell me, is this
+indeed true? Or am I the sport of some illusion?"
+
+"Nay, my lord, all is true, and safely to be believed. I, too, have need
+of pardon at your hands, and therefore I propose that we mutually
+exchange forgiveness."
+
+"You, Clémence! You need forgiveness! Oh, for what, or wherefore?"
+
+"Have I not been frequently unkind, unrelenting, and perhaps even cruel,
+towards you? Ought I not to have remembered that it required a more than
+ordinary share of courage to act otherwise than you did,--a virtue more
+than human to renounce the hope of exchanging a cheerless, solitary
+life, for one of wedded sympathy and happiness? Alas, when we are in
+grief or suffering, it is so natural to trust to the kindness and
+goodness of others! Hitherto your fault has been in depending too much
+on my generosity; henceforward it shall be my aim to show you, you have
+not trusted in vain."
+
+"Oh, go on! Go on! Continue still to utter such heavenly words!"
+exclaimed M. d'Harville, gazing in almost ecstasy on the countenance of
+his wife, and clasping his hands in fervid supplication. "Let me again
+hear you pronounce my pardon, and it will seem as though a new existence
+were opening upon me."
+
+"Our destinies are inseparably united, and death only can dissever us.
+Believe me, it shall for the future be my study to render life less
+painful to you than it has been."
+
+"Merciful Heaven! Do I hear aright? Clémence, can it be you who have
+spoken these dear, these enchanting words?"
+
+"Let me conjure you to spare me the pain and humiliation of hearing you
+express so much astonishment at my speaking as my duty prompts me to do;
+indeed, your reluctance to credit my assertions grieves me more than I
+can describe. How cruel a censure does it imply upon my past conduct!
+Ah, who will pity and soothe you in your severe trials, if not I? I seem
+inspired by some holy voice, speaking within my breast, to reflect upon
+my past conduct. I have deeply meditated on all that has happened, as
+well as on the future. My faults rise up in judgment against me; but
+with them come also the whisperings of my awakened feelings, teaching me
+how to repair my past errors."
+
+"Your errors, my poor injured Clémence! Alas, you were not to blame!"
+
+"Yes, I was. I ought frankly to have appealed to your honour to release
+me from the painful necessity of living with you as your wife; and that,
+too, on the day following our marriage,--"
+
+"Clémence, for pity's sake no more!"
+
+"Otherwise, in accepting my position, I ought to have elevated it by my
+entire submission and devotion. Under the circumstances in which I was
+placed, instead of allowing my coldness and proud reserve to act as a
+continual reproach, I should have directed all my endeavours to console
+you for so heavy a misfortune, and have forgotten everything but the
+severe affliction under which you laboured. By degrees I should have
+become attached to my work of commiseration, and, probably, the very
+cares and sacrifices it would have required to fulfil my voluntary duty;
+for which your grateful appreciation would have been a rich reward. I
+might, at last--But what ails you, my lord? Are you ill? Surely you are
+weeping!"
+
+"But they are tears of pure delight. Ah, you can scarcely imagine what
+new emotions are awakened in my heart! Heed not my tears, beloved
+Clémence; trust me, they flow from an excess of happiness, arising from
+those dear words you just now uttered. Never did I seem so guilty in my
+own eyes as I now appear, for having selfishly bound you to such a life
+as mine!"
+
+"And never did I find myself more disposed to forget the past, and to
+bury all reference to it in oblivion; the sight of your gently falling
+tears, even, seems to open to me a source of happiness hitherto unknown
+to me. Courage! Courage! Let us, in place of that bright and prosperous
+life denied us by Providence, seek our enjoyment in the discharge of the
+serious duties allotted us. Let us be mutually indulgent and forbearing
+towards each other; and, should our resolution fail, let us turn to our
+child, and make her the depositary of all our affections. Thus shall we
+secure to ourselves an unfailing store of holy, of tranquil joys."
+
+"Sure, 'tis some angel speaks!" cried M. d'Harville, contemplating his
+wife with impassioned looks. "Oh, Clémence, you little know the pleasure
+and the pain you cause me. The severest reproach you ever addressed
+me--your hardest word or most merited rebuke never touched me as does
+this angelic devotion, this disregard of self, this generous sacrifice
+of personal enjoyment. Even despite myself, I feel hope spring up within
+me. I dare hardly trust myself to believe the blessed future which
+suggests itself to my imagination."
+
+"Ah, you may safely and implicitly believe all I say, Albert! I declare
+to you, by all that is sacred and solemn, that I have firmly taken the
+resolution I spoke of, and that I will adhere to it in strictest word
+and deed. Hereafter I may even be enabled to give you further pledges of
+my truth."
+
+"Pledges!" exclaimed M. d'Harville, more and more excited by a happiness
+so wholly unlocked for. "What need have I of any pledges? Do not your
+look, your tone, the heavenly expression of goodness which animates your
+countenance, the rapturous pulsations of my own heart, all convince me
+of the truth of your words? But, Clémence, man, you know, is a creature
+not easily satisfied; and," added the marquis, approaching his wife's
+chair, "your noble, generous conduct inspires me with the boldness, the
+courage, to hope--to hope,--yes, Clémence, to venture to hope for that
+which, only yesterday, I should have considered it even worse than
+madness to presume to think of."
+
+"For mercy's sake, explain yourself!" said Clémence, alarmed at the
+impassioned words and glances of her husband.
+
+"Yes," cried he, seizing her hand, "yes, by dint of tender, untiring,
+unwearied love,--Clémence, do you understand me?--I say, by dint of love
+such as mine I venture to hope to obtain a return of my affection. I
+dare to anticipate being loved by you,--not with a cold, lukewarm
+regard, but with a passion ardent as my own for you. Ah, you know not
+the real nature of such a love as I would inspire you with! Alas! I
+never even dared to breathe it in your ears,--so frigid, so repulsive
+were you to me. Never did you bestow on me a look, a word of kindness,
+far less make my heart leap with such joy as thrilled through my breast
+but now, when your words of sweet and gentle tenderness drew happy tears
+from my eyes, and which, still ringing in my ears, make me almost beside
+myself with gladness; and, amid the intoxicating delight which floats
+through my brain, comes the proud consciousness of having earned even so
+rich a reward by the deep, the passionate ardour of my love for you. Oh,
+Clémence, when you will let me only tell you half I have suffered,--how
+I have writhed in despairing anguish at your coldness, your disdain,
+how I have watched and sighed in vain for one encouraging glance,--you
+will own that, for patient devotion to one beloved object, I am inferior
+to none. Whence arose that melancholy, that avoidance of all society,
+our best friends have so fruitlessly sought to rouse me from? Can you
+not guess the cause? Ah, it originated in desolation of spirit and
+despair of ever obtaining your love. Yes, dearest Clémence, to that
+overwhelming dread was owing the sombre taciturnity, the dislike to
+company, the desponding gloom, which excited so many different
+conjectures. Think, too, how much my sufferings must have been increased
+by the fact that she, the beloved object of my heart's idolatry, was my
+own,--legally, irrevocably mine,--dwelling beneath the same roof, yet
+more completely alienated from me than though we dwelt in the opposite
+parts of the earth. But my burning sighs, my bitter tears, reached not
+you; or, I feel almost persuaded, they would have moved even you to pity
+me. And now it seems to me that you must have divined my sufferings, and
+have come, like an angel of goodness as you are, to whisper in my ears
+bright promises of days of unclouded happiness. No longer shall I be
+doomed to gaze in unavailing yet doting admiration on your graceful
+beauty; no more shall I account myself most blessed yet most accursed in
+possessing a creature of matchless excellence, whose charms of mind and
+body, alas! I am forbidden to consider as mine; but now the envious
+barrier which has thus long divided us is about to be withdrawn, and the
+treasure my beating heart tells me is all my own will henceforward be
+freely, indisputably mine! Will it not, dear Clémence? Speak to me, and
+confirm that which the busy throbbings of my joyful heart tell me to
+hope for and expect, as the reward of all I have so long endured!"
+
+As M. d'Harville uttered these last words, he seized the hand of his
+wife, and covered it with passionate kisses; while Clémence, much
+grieved at the mistake her husband had fallen into, could not avoid
+withdrawing her hand with a mixture of terror and disgust. And the
+expression of her countenance so plainly bespoke her feelings, that M.
+d'Harville saw at once the fearful error he had committed. The blow fell
+with redoubled force after the tender visions he had so lately conjured
+up. A look of intense agony replaced the bright exultation of his
+countenance exhibited a little while since, when Madame d'Harville,
+eagerly extending her hand towards him, said, in an agitated tone:
+
+"Albert, receive my solemn promise to be unto you as the most tender and
+affectionate sister,--but nothing more. Forgive me, I beseech you, if,
+inadvertently, my words have inspired you with hopes which can never be
+realised."
+
+"Never?" exclaimed M. d'Harville, fixing on his wife a look of
+despairing entreaty.
+
+"Never!" answered she. The single word, with the tone in which it was
+spoken, proved but too well the irrevocable decision Clémence had
+formed.
+
+Brought back, by the influence of Rodolph, to all her nobleness of
+character, Madame d'Harville had firmly resolved to bestow on her
+husband every kind and affectionate attention; but to love him she felt
+utterly out of her power; and to this immutable resolution she was
+driven by a power more forcible than either fear, contempt, or even
+dislike,--it was a species of repugnance almost amounting to horror.
+
+After a painful silence of some duration, M. d'Harville passed his hand
+across his moist eyelids and said, in a voice of bitterness:
+
+"Let me entreat your pardon for the unintentional mistake I have made.
+Oh, refuse not to forgive me for having ventured to believe that
+happiness could exist for me!"
+
+And again a long pause ensued, broken at last by D'Harville's
+vehemently exclaiming, "What a wretch am I!"
+
+"Albert," said Clémence, gently, "for worlds would I not reproach you;
+yet is my promise of being unto you the most loving and affectionate of
+sisters unworthy any estimation? You will receive from the tender cares
+of devoted friendship more solid happiness than love could afford. Look
+forward to brighter days. Hitherto you have found me almost indifferent
+to your sorrows; you shall henceforward find me all zeal and solicitude
+to alleviate them, and eager to share with you every grief or cause of
+suffering, whether of body or of mind."
+
+At this moment a servant, throwing open the folding doors, announced:
+
+"His Highness the Grand Duke of Gerolstein."
+
+M. d'Harville started; then, by a powerful effort, recovering his
+self-command, he advanced to meet his visitor.
+
+"I am singularly fortunate, madame," said Rodolph, approaching Clémence,
+"to find you at home to-night; and I am still more delighted with my
+good fortune, since it procures me the pleasure of meeting you, also, my
+dear Albert," continued he, turning to the marquis, and shaking him
+cordially by the hand.
+
+"It is, indeed, some time since I have had the honour of paying my
+respects to your royal highness."
+
+"If the truth must be spoken, my dear Albert," said the prince,
+smilingly, "you are somewhat platonic in your friendships, and, relying
+on the certain attachment of your friends, care very little about either
+giving or receiving any outward proof of affection."
+
+By a breach of etiquette, which somewhat annoyed Madame d'Harville, a
+servant here entered the room with a letter for the marquis. It was the
+anonymous epistle of Sarah, accusing Rodolph of being the lover of
+Madame d'Harville.
+
+The marquis, out of deference for the prince, put away with his hand
+the small silver salver presented to him by the servant, saying, in an
+undertone:
+
+"Another time,--another time."
+
+"My dear Albert," said Rodolph, in a voice of the most genuine
+affection, "why all this ceremony with me?"
+
+"My lord!"
+
+"With Madame d'Harville's permission, let me beg of you to read your
+letter without delay."
+
+"I assure you, my lord, it is not of the slightest consequence."
+
+"Again I say, Albert, read your letter all the same for my being here."
+
+"But, my lord, indeed--"
+
+"Nay, I ask you to do so; or, if you will have it, I desire you to read
+it immediately."
+
+"If your highness commands it, my duty is obedience," said the marquis,
+taking the letter from the salver.
+
+"Yes, I positively command you to treat me as one old friend ought to
+treat another." Then turning towards Madame d'Harville, while the
+marquis was breaking the seal of the fatal letter, the contents of which
+were, of course, unknown to Rodolph, he said, smilingly, to Madame
+d'Harville:
+
+"What a triumph for you, madame, to bend this untractable spirit, and
+make it bow to your very caprice!"
+
+M. d'Harville having opened Sarah's infamous letter, approached the
+wax-lights burning on the mantelpiece, the better to read it. His
+features bore no visible mark of agitation as he perused the vile
+scrawl. A slight trembling of the hand alone was visible, as, after a
+short hesitation, he refolded the paper and placed it in the pocket of
+his waistcoat.
+
+"At the risk of passing for a perfect Goth," said he, with a smile, to
+Rodolph, "I will ask you to excuse me, my lord, while I retire to reply
+to this letter, which is more important than it at first appeared."
+
+"Shall I not see you again this evening?"
+
+"I am fearful I shall not have that honour, my lord; and I trust your
+royal highness will condescend to excuse me."
+
+"What a slippery person you are!" cried Rodolph, gaily. "Will you not,
+madame, endeavour to prevent his quitting us?"
+
+"Nay, I dare not attempt that your highness has failed to accomplish."
+
+"But seriously, my dear Albert, endeavour to come back as soon as you
+have concluded your letter; or, if that is not possible, promise to give
+me a few minutes in the morning. I have a thousand things to say to
+you."
+
+"Your highness overwhelms me with kindness," answered the marquis, as,
+bowing profoundly, he withdrew, leaving Clémence and the prince alone.
+
+"Your husband has some heavy care on his mind," observed Rodolph to the
+marquise; "his smile appeared to me a forced one."
+
+"At the moment of your highness's arrival, M. d'Harville was much
+excited, and he has had great difficulty in concealing his agitation
+from you."
+
+"My visit was, probably, _mal ŕ propos_?"
+
+"Oh, no, my lord! You came just in time to spare me the conclusion of a
+most painful conversation."
+
+"Indeed! May I inquire the subject of it?"
+
+"I had explained to M. d'Harville the line of conduct I had determined
+to pursue towards him for the future, assuring him of my future sympathy
+and affectionate attention to his happiness."
+
+"How happy you must have rendered him by such gratifying words!"
+
+"He did, indeed, at first, seem most truly happy; and so was I,
+likewise; for his tears and his joys caused in me a feeling of delight
+I never before experienced. Once I fancied I did but indulge a just
+revenge each time I addressed to him a reproach or a sarcasm; but it was
+a weak and impotent mode of torture, which always recoiled upon myself,
+as my better judgment pointed out the unworthiness of such conduct;
+while just now how great was the difference! I had inquired of my
+husband if he were going out, to which he mournfully replied that he had
+no intention of so doing, but should pass the evening alone, as he most
+frequently did. Ah, my lord, could you but have seen his surprise when I
+offered to be his companion, and how suddenly did the gloomy expression
+of his features give place to a bright glow of happiness! Ah, you were
+quite right, there is nothing more really delightful than preparing
+happy surprises for those around us."
+
+"But how could so much kindness on your part have brought about the
+painful conversation you were alluding to just now?"
+
+"Alas, my lord!" said Clémence, blushing deeply, "M. d'Harville, not
+satisfied with the hopes I felt myself justified in holding out, allowed
+himself to form others of a nature too tender to admit of their being
+realised, and in proportion to my consciousness of my utter inability to
+respond to such sentiments had been my anxiety not to arouse them; and,
+greatly as I had felt touched by the warmth of my husband's gratitude
+for my proffered affection, I was even still more terrified and alarmed
+by the passionate ardour of his manner and expressions; and when,
+carried away by the impetuosity of his feelings, he pressed his lips
+upon my hand, a cold shudder pervaded my whole frame, and I found it
+impossible to conceal the disgust and alarm I experienced. Doubtless
+this manifestation of my invincible repugnance pained him deeply, and I
+much lament having been unable to prevent his perceiving my feelings.
+But now that the blow has fallen, it will, at least, serve to convince
+M. d'Harville of the utter impossibility of my ever being more to him
+than the most tender and devoted friend."
+
+"I pity him most sincerely, without being able to blame you in the
+slightest degree for the part you have acted. There are certain feelings
+which must ever be held sacred. But poor Albert! With his noble,
+generous spirit, his frank, confiding nature, his warm, enthusiastic
+heart,--if you only knew how long I have been vainly trying to discover
+the cause of the hidden melancholy which was evidently preying upon his
+health. Well, we must trust to the soothing effects of time and reason.
+By degrees he will become more sensible of the value of the affection
+you offer him, and he will resign himself as he did before, when he had
+not the consolatory hopes you now present to his view."
+
+"Hopes which I solemnly assure you, my lord, it is my fixed
+determination to realise in their fullest extent."
+
+"And now let us turn our attention to others who are also called upon to
+suffer and taste of heavy sorrows. You know I promised to occupy you in
+a charitable work, which should have all the charm of a romance of real
+life; and I am here to perform my promise."
+
+"What, already, my lord? Indeed, you rejoice me greatly."
+
+"It was a most fortunate idea of mine to hire the small chamber I told
+you of in the Rue du Temple; you can scarcely imagine all the curious
+and interesting objects it has made me acquainted with. In the first
+place your poor protégées in the garrets are now enjoying that happiness
+your presence secured to them. They have still some severe trials to
+undergo; but I will not enter upon the painful details at the present
+moment. One of these days you shall learn how many direful evils may be
+heaped upon one unfortunate family."
+
+"How grateful they must feel towards you!"
+
+"Nay, 'tis your name is ever on their lips, loaded with praises and
+blessings."
+
+"Ah, my lord, is it then in my name you have succoured them?"
+
+"To increase the value of the gift, I confess I did presume to name you
+as their benefactress. Besides, what have I done more than carry out
+your promises?"
+
+"I cannot allow of even this pious fraud, and to-morrow they shall learn
+from me whom they have to thank. I will tell them the extent of their
+obligations to you."
+
+"Oh, pray do no such thing, or you will spoil all my fine schemes.
+Remember that I have a small apartment in the house; that for the sake
+of much good I hope to effect, I am anxious to preserve a strict
+_incognito_ there. Recollect, also, that the Morels are now beyond the
+reach of further distress; and, finally, let me remind you that there
+are other claimants for your benevolence. And now for the subject of our
+present intrigue. I want your generous aid and assistance in behalf of a
+mother and daughter, who from former affluence are at this moment
+reduced to the most abject penury, in consequence of having been most
+villainously despoiled of their just rights."
+
+"Poor things! And where do these unfortunate beings reside, my lord?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Then how did you become acquainted with their misfortunes?"
+
+"Yesterday I was at the Temple,--perhaps, Madame la Marquise, you do not
+know what sort of place the Temple is?"
+
+"Indeed, my lord, I do not."
+
+"It is a bazaar of the most amusing description. Well, I went there for
+the purpose of making several purchases in company with a female lodger
+who occupies an apartment adjoining my own--"
+
+"Indeed! A female neighbour?"
+
+"Yes, my next-door neighbour on the fourth floor. Don't you recollect I
+told you I had a chamber in the Rue du Temple?"
+
+"Pardon me, my lord, I had quite forgotten that circumstance."
+
+"I must tell you that this same neighbour is one of the prettiest little
+mantua-makers you ever saw. She is called Rigolette, is for ever
+laughing, and never was in love."
+
+"Upon my word, a most uncommon specimen of her class!"
+
+"She even admits that her indifference to the tender passion arises less
+from prudence than because she has not time to think about love or
+lovers, both of which she says would take up too much of her time; as,
+working from twelve to fifteen hours daily, it is with difficulty she
+manages to earn twenty-five sous a day, yet on that trifling sum she
+lives contentedly."
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"Possible! Why, she even launches out into luxuries,--has a couple of
+birds, who consume as much food as herself, arranges her chamber with
+the most scrupulous and pretty neatness, while her dress would make a
+modern belle grow pale with envy."
+
+"And all this effected upon five and twenty sous a day? It is almost
+difficult to believe it."
+
+"I assure you my fair neighbour is a pattern of industry, order,
+economy, and practical philosophy; and as such I beg to recommend her to
+your notice in her capacity of dressmaker, in which she is reported to
+have much skill. If you will honour her with your commands, her fortune
+will be surely made; although there is no occasion for your carrying
+your beneficence so far as to wear the dresses you permit her to make."
+
+"Oh, I will take care to give her employment immediately. Poor girl!
+living honestly and contentedly upon a sum squandered by the rich for
+the most trifling whim or caprice."
+
+"Well, now then that you have undertaken to interest yourself in my
+deserving young neighbour, let us proceed to the little adventure I was
+about to relate to you. I went, as I told you, to the Temple with Mlle.
+Rigolette in order to purchase many articles necessary for the comfort
+of the poor family in the garret, when, accidentally examining the
+drawers of an old _secrétaire_ exposed for sale, I found the fragment of
+a letter in a female hand, in which the writer bitterly deplored the
+destitution to which herself and daughter were exposed in consequence of
+the villainy of the person in whose hands their money had been placed. I
+inquired of the mistress of the shop how she became possessed of the
+piece of furniture in question. She told me it was part of a lot of very
+common household goods she purchased of a person still young, who had
+evidently disposed of all her effects from stern necessity, and being
+without any other means of raising money. Both mother and daughter,
+continued my informant, seemed much superior to their condition, and
+each bore their distress with a proud yet calm fortitude."
+
+"And do you not know where these poor ladies can be found, my lord?"
+
+"I do not, unfortunately, at the present moment, but I have given
+directions to M. de Graün to use every effort to discover them, and, if
+needs must be, even to apply to the police for assistance. It is just
+probable that the unfortunate parent and child, finding themselves
+stripped of their little stock of furniture, may have sought refuge in
+some obscure lodging; and if so, there is every chance of discovering
+their abode, since the keepers of lodging-houses are obliged to write a
+daily report of every fresh inmate they receive."
+
+"What a singular combination of events!" said Madame d'Harville, much
+astonished: "Your account is, indeed, a most interesting one."
+
+"You have not heard all yet. In a corner of the fragment of writing
+found in the old _secrétaire_, are these words, 'To write to Madame de
+Lucenay.'"
+
+"Oh, how fortunate!" exclaimed Madame d'Harville, with much animation.
+"No doubt the duchess can tell me all about these unfortunate ladies.
+But then," added she, thoughtfully, "I do not see, after all, how we
+shall be able to describe them, as we do not even know their name."
+
+"Nay, it will be easy to inquire whether she is acquainted with a widow
+still in the prime of life, whose air and manner indicate her being far
+superior to her present circumstances, and who has a daughter about
+sixteen years of age named Claire. I am sure it was Claire the woman
+told me the younger female was called."
+
+"How very strange! That is my child's name; and furnishes an additional
+reason for my interesting myself in their misfortunes."
+
+"I forgot to tell you that the brother of this unhappy widow died by his
+own hands a very few months ago."
+
+Madame d'Harville was silent for some minutes, as though reflecting
+deeply; at length she said:
+
+"If Madame de Lucenay be in any way acquainted with this unfortunate
+family, these particulars will be quite sufficient to identify them;
+besides which the lamentable end of the brother must have fixed every
+circumstance connected with them more strongly in her memory. How
+impatient I feel to question the duchess on the subject! I will write
+her a note this very evening, begging of her not to go out to-morrow
+till I have seen her. Who can these interesting people be? From your
+account, my lord, I should say they certainly belong to the higher class
+of society, and must, therefore, feel their present distress so much the
+more keenly. Alas, to such as they the falling into such utter
+destitution must inflict a deeper, keener sting!"
+
+"And all their sufferings have arisen from the knavery of an
+unprincipled scoundrel,--a notary, named Jacques Ferrand. But I am in
+possession of other acts of villainy on his part equally black with
+this."
+
+"That is the name of the person acting as the legal adviser both of my
+husband and mother-in-law," exclaimed Clémence; "and, indeed, my lord, I
+think you must be mistaken in your opinion of him, for he is universally
+regarded as a person of the strictest honour and probity."
+
+"I assure you I have the most irrefragable proofs of what I assert.
+Meanwhile let me beg of you to be perfectly silent as to the character I
+assign this man, who is as subtle as unprincipled; and the better to
+unmask his nefarious practices, it is necessary he should be allowed to
+think himself secure from all danger; a few days will enable me to
+perfect my schemes for bringing him to a severe reckoning. He it was who
+brought such unmerited affliction upon the interesting females I have
+been telling you of, by defrauding them of a large sum, which, it
+appears, was consigned to his care by the brother of the unfortunate
+widow."
+
+"And this money?"
+
+"Was their sole dependence."
+
+"This is, indeed, a crime of the most heinous description!"
+
+"'Tis, indeed, of blackest die," exclaimed Rodolph, "having nothing to
+extenuate it, and originating neither in passion nor necessity. The
+pangs of hunger will often instigate a man to commit a theft, the thirst
+for revenge lead on to murder; but this legal hypocrite is passing rich,
+and invested, by common consent, with a character of almost priestly
+sanctity, while his countenance and manners are moulded with such
+studious art as to inspire and command universal confidence. The
+assassin kills you at a blow,--this villain tortures, prolongs your
+sufferings, and leaves you, after the death-blow has been inflicted, to
+sink under the gnawing agonies of want, misery, and despair. Nothing is
+safe from the cupidity of such a man as Ferrand: the inheritance of the
+orphan, the hard-earned savings of the laborious poor,--all excite alike
+his unprincipled avarice; and that which in other men arises out of the
+impulse of the moment is with this wretch the result of a cold and
+unrelenting calculation. You entrust him with your wealth,--to see it is
+to covet it, and with him to desire is to possess himself, without the
+smallest scruple. Totally unheeding your future wretchedness, the
+grasping deceiver deprives you of your property, and without a pang
+consigns you to beggary and destitution. Suppose that, by a long course
+of labour and privations, you have contrived to amass a provision
+against the wants and infirmities of old age; well, no sooner is this
+cold-blooded hypocrite made the depositary of your little treasure, than
+he unhesitatingly appropriates it, leaving you to drag on a miserable
+existence, without a morsel of bread but such as the hand of charity
+doles out to you. Nor is this all. Let us consider the fearful
+consequences of these infamous acts of spoliation. Take the case of the
+widow of whom we were speaking just now,--imagine her dying of grief and
+a crushed spirit, the results of her heavy afflictions; she leaves a
+young and helpless girl to struggle alone in the world,--a weak and
+delicate being, whose very loveliness increases her dangers and
+difficulties. Without friends or support, unaccustomed to the rough
+realities of life, the poor orphan has but to choose between starvation
+and dishonour. In an evil hour she falls, and becomes a lost, degraded
+creature. And thus Jacques Ferrand, by his dishonest appropriation of
+the things committed to his charge, occasions not only the death of the
+mother, but the dishonour of the child; he destroys the body of the one
+and the soul of the other,--and again, I say, not with the merciful
+despatch of the assassin's dagger, but by the slow tortures of lingering
+cruelty!"
+
+Clémence listened in profound silence, not unmixed with surprise, at
+hearing Rodolph express himself with so much indignation and bitterness.
+Accustomed only to witness the most urbane suavity in the tone and
+manner of her guest, she felt more than ordinarily struck by his
+vehement and excited language; which, however, seemed to show his
+intense abhorrence of all crooked and nefarious dealings.
+
+"I must entreat your pardon, madame," said the prince, after a pause,
+"for having permitted myself to use so much warmth in the presence of a
+lady; but, in truth, I could not restrain my indignation when I
+reflected on all the horrible dangers which may overwhelm your future
+protégées. But, be assured, it is quite impossible to exaggerate those
+fearful consequences brought about by ruin and misery."
+
+"Indeed! Indeed, my lord, you rather merit my thanks, for having so
+powerfully and energetically augmented, if possible, the tender pity I
+feel for this unfortunate parent, whose heart is, doubtless, wrung with
+anguish rather for her young and innocent daughter than for herself. It
+is, in truth, a fearful situation. But we shall soon be enabled to
+relieve her mind, and rescue her from her present misery, shall we not,
+my lord? Oh, yes, I feel assured we shall,--and henceforward their
+happiness shall be my care. I am rich,--though not so much so as I could
+wish, now that I perceive how worthily wealth may be employed; but
+should there be occasion for further aid than I am enabled to afford, I
+will apply to M. d'Harville in their behalf. I will render him so happy,
+that he shall find it impossible to refuse any of my new caprices, and I
+foresee that I shall have plenty of them. You told me, did you not, my
+lord, that our protégées are proud? So much the better. I am better
+pleased to find them so; for pride under unmerited misfortune always
+betokens a great and elevated mind. But I shall be able to overreach
+them, for I will so contrive that they shall be relieved from their
+present misery without ever guessing to what channel they owe their
+deliverance from misery. You think I shall find it difficult to deceive
+them? So much the better. Oh, I have my own plans of action, I can
+assure you, my lord; and you will see that I shall be deficient neither
+in cunning nor address."
+
+"I fully anticipate the most Machiavelian system of ruse and deep
+combination," said Rodolph, smiling.
+
+"But we must, first of all, discover where they are. Oh, how I wish
+to-morrow were come! When I leave Madame de Lucenay, I shall go directly
+to their old residence, make inquiries of their late neighbours, collect
+all the information I can, and form my own conclusions from all I see
+and hear. I should feel so proud and delighted to work out all the good
+I intend to these poor ladies, without being assisted by any person; and
+I shall accomplish it,--I feel sure I shall. This adventure affects me
+greatly. Poor things! I seem even to feel a livelier interest in their
+misfortunes when I think of my own child."
+
+Deeply touched at this charitable warmth, Rodolph smiled with sincere
+commiseration at seeing a young creature of scarcely twenty years of
+age, seeking to lose, amid occupations so pure and noble, the sense of
+the severe domestic afflictions which bore so heavily upon her. The eyes
+of Clémence sparkled with enthusiasm, a delicate carnation tinged her
+pale cheek, while the animation of her words and gestures imparted
+additional beauty to her lovely countenance.
+
+The close and silent scrutiny of Rodolph did not escape the notice of
+Madame d'Harville. She blushed, looked down for a few minutes, then,
+raising her eyes in sweet confusion, said:
+
+"I see, my lord, you are amused at my girlish eagerness. But, in truth,
+I am impatient to taste those sources of delight which are about to gild
+an existence hitherto so replete with grief and sadness, and,
+unfortunately, so useless to every one. Alas, this was not the life my
+early dreams had pictured to me,--the one great passion of life I must
+for ever renounce! Though young, I must live, and act, and think, as
+though scores of years had passed over my head. Alas, alas!" continued
+Clémence, with a sigh, "to me is denied the dear domestic joys my heart
+could so fondly have prized." After a minute's pause she resumed: "But
+why should I dwell on such vain and fruitless regrets? Thanks to you, my
+lord, charity will replace the void left in my heart by disappointed
+affection. Already have I owed to your counsels the enjoyment of the
+most touching emotions. Your words, my lord, affect me deeply, and
+exercise unbounded influence over me. The more I meditate on what you
+have advanced, the more I search into its real depth and value, the more
+I am struck by its vast power and truth, the more just and valuable does
+it appear to me. Then, when I reflect that, not satisfied with
+sympathising with sufferings of which you can form no idea from actual
+experience, you aid me with the most salutary counsels, and guide me,
+step by step, in the new and delightful path of virtue and goodness
+pointed out by you to relieve a weary and worn-out heart, oh, my lord,
+what treasure of all that is good must your mind contain! From what
+source have you drawn so large a supply of tender pity for the woes of
+all?"
+
+"Nay, the secret of my sincere commiseration with the woes of others
+consists in my having deeply suffered myself,--nay, in still sighing
+over heavy sorrows none can alleviate or cure."
+
+"You, my lord! Surely you cannot have tasted thus bitterly of grief and
+misfortune?"
+
+"Yes, 'tis even so. I sometimes think that I have been made to taste of
+nearly every bitter which fills our cup of worldly sorrows, the better
+to fit me for sympathising with all descriptions of worldly trials.
+Wounded and sorely afflicted as a friend, a husband, and a parent, what
+grief can there be in which I am not qualified to participate?"
+
+"I always understood, my lord, that your late wife, the grand duchess,
+left no child?"
+
+"True; but, before I became her husband, I was the father of a daughter,
+who died quite young. And, however you may smile at the idea, I can with
+truth assert that the loss of that child has poisoned all my subsequent
+days. And this grief increases with my years. Each succeeding hour but
+redoubles the poignancy of my regrets, which, far from abating, appear
+to grow,--strengthen, even as my daughter would have done had she been
+spared me. She would now have been in her seventeenth year."
+
+"And her mother," asked Clémence, after a trifling hesitation, "is she
+still living?"
+
+"Oh, name her not, I beseech you!" exclaimed Rodolph, whose features
+became suddenly overcast at this reference to Sarah. "She to whom you
+allude is a vile, unworthy woman, whose feelings are completely buried
+beneath the cold selfishness and ambition of her nature. Sometimes I
+even ask myself whether it is not better that my child has been removed
+by death than for her to have been contaminated by the example of such a
+mother."
+
+Clémence could not restrain a feeling of satisfaction at hearing Rodolph
+thus express himself. "In that case," said she, "I can imagine how
+doubly you must bewail the loss of your only object of affection!"
+
+"Oh, how I should have doted on my child! For it seems to me that, among
+princes, there is always mixed up with the affection we bear a son, a
+sort of interested regard for the being destined to perpetuate our
+race,--a kind of political calculation. But a daughter!--oh, she is
+loved for herself alone! And when, alas! one is weary of witnessing the
+many fearful pictures of fallen humanity an intercourse with the world
+compels us to behold, what joy to turn from the dark pictures of guilt
+and crime to refresh ourselves by the contemplation of a young and
+innocent mind, and to delight in watching the unfolding of all those
+pure and tender feelings so guilelessly true to nature! The proudest,
+the happiest mother feels not half the exquisite joy of a father in
+observing the gradual development of a daughter's character. A mother
+will dwell with far greater rapture on the bold and manly qualities of a
+son. For have you never remarked that the cause which still further
+cements the doting affection of a mother for her son, or a father for
+his daughter, is the feeling of either requiring or bestowing aid and
+protection? Thus, the mother looks upon her son in the light of a future
+support and protection; while the father beholds in his young and
+helpless daughter a weak and fragile creature, clinging to him for
+safety, counsel, and protection from all the storms of life."
+
+"True, my lord,--most true!"
+
+"But what avails it thus to dwell on sources of delight for ever lost to
+me?" cried Rodolph, in a voice of the deepest dejection. His mournful
+tones sunk into the very heart of Clémence, who could not restrain a
+tear, which trickled slowly down her cheek. After a short pause, during
+which the prince, making a powerful effort to restrain himself, and
+feeling almost ashamed of allowing his feelings thus to get the better
+of him in the presence of Madame d'Harville, said, with a smile of
+infinite sadness, "Your pardon, madame, for thus allowing myself to be
+drawn away by the remembrance of my past griefs!"
+
+"I beseech you, my lord, make no apology to me; but, on the contrary,
+believe that I most sincerely sympathise with your very natural regrets.
+Have I not a right to share your griefs, for have I not made you a
+participator in mine? My greatest pain is, that the only consolation I
+could offer you would be vain and useless to assuage your grief."
+
+"Not so; the very expression of your kind commiseration is grateful and
+beneficial to me; and I find it a relief to disburden my mind, and tell
+you all I suffer. But, courage!" added Rodolph, with a faint and
+melancholy smile; "the conversation of this evening entirely reassures
+me on your account. A safe and healthful path is opened to you, by
+following which you will escape the trials and dangers so fatal to many
+of your sex, and, still more so, for those as highly endowed as
+yourself. You will have much to endure, to struggle against, and contend
+with; but in proportion to the difficulties of your position will be
+your merit in overcoming them. You are too young and lovely to escape
+without a severe ordeal; but, should your courage ever fail you, the
+recollection, not only of the good you have done, but also that you
+propose to effect, will serve to strengthen your virtuous resolutions,
+and arm you with fresh courage."
+
+Madame d'Harville melted into tears.
+
+"At least," said she, "promise me your counsels and advice shall never
+fail me. May I depend on this, my lord?"
+
+"Indeed, indeed, you may. Whether near or afar off, believe that I shall
+ever feel the most lively interest in your welfare and well-doing; and,
+so far as in me lies, will I devote my best services to promote your
+happiness, or that of the man whom I glory in calling my dearest
+friend."
+
+"Thanks, my lord," said Clémence, drying her tears, "for this consoling
+promise. But for your generous aid, I feel too well that my own strength
+would fail me. Still I bind myself now, and in your presence,
+faithfully and courageously to perform my duty, however hard or painful
+that duty may be."
+
+As Clémence uttered these last words, a small door, concealed by the
+hangings, suddenly opened; and M. d'Harville, pale, agitated, and
+evidently labouring under considerable excitement, appeared before
+Madame d'Harville and Rodolph. The latter involuntarily started, while a
+faint cry escaped the lips of the astonished wife.
+
+The first surprise over, the marquis handed to Rodolph the letter
+received from Sarah, saying:
+
+"Here, my lord, is the letter I but just now received in your presence.
+Have the kindness to cast your eyes over it, and afterwards commit it to
+the flames."
+
+Clémence gazed on her husband with utter astonishment.
+
+"Most infamous!" exclaimed Rodolph, indignantly, as he finished the
+perusal of the vile scrawl.
+
+"Nay, my lord, there is an act more dastardly even than the sending an
+anonymous letter; and that act I have committed."
+
+"For the love of heaven, explain yourself!"
+
+"Instead of at once fearlessly and candidly showing you this letter, I
+concealed its contents from you. I feigned calmness and tranquillity,
+while jealousy, rage, and despair filled my heart. Nor is this all. To
+what detestable meanness do you suppose, my lord, my ungoverned passions
+led me? Why, to enact the part of a spy,--to hide myself basely and
+contemptibly behind this door, to overhear your conversation and espy
+your actions. Yes, hate me, despise me as you will, I merit all for
+having insulted you by a suspicion. Oh, the writer of these fiendish
+letters knew well the culpable weakness of him to whom they were
+addressed. But, after all I have heard,--for not a word has escaped me,
+and I now know the nature of the interest which attracts you to frequent
+the Rue du Temple,--after having, by my mean and unworthy jealousy,
+given support to the base calumny by believing it even for an instant,
+how can I hope for pardon, though I sue for it upon my knees? Still,
+still, I venture to implore from you, so superior to myself in nobleness
+and generosity of soul, pity, and, if you can, forgiveness for the wrong
+I have done you!"
+
+"No more of this, my dear Albert," said Rodolph, extending his hands
+towards his friend with the most touching cordiality; "you have nothing
+to ask pardon for. Indeed, I feel quite delighted to find you have
+discovered the secrets of Madame d'Harville and myself. Now that all
+further restraint is at an end, I shall be able to lecture you as much
+and as frequently as I choose. But, what is better still, you are now
+installed as the confidant of Madame d'Harville,--that is to say, you
+now know what to expect from a heart so pure, so generous, and so noble
+as hers."
+
+"And you, Clémence," said M. d'Harville, sorrowfully, to his wife, "can
+you forgive me my last unworthy act, in addition to the just causes you
+already have to hate and despise me?"
+
+"On one condition," said she, extending her hand towards her husband,
+which he warmly and tenderly pressed, "that you promise to aid me in all
+my schemes for promoting and securing your happiness!"
+
+"Upon my word, my dear marquis," exclaimed Rodolph, "our enemies have
+shown themselves bunglers after all! They have afforded you an
+opportunity you might never otherwise have obtained, of rightly
+appreciating the tender devotion of your incomparable wife, whose
+affection for you, I venture to say, has shone out more brightly and
+steadily under the machinations of those who seek to render us
+miserable, than amidst all the former part of your wedded life; so that
+we are enabled to take a sweet revenge for the mischief intended to be
+effected: that is some consolation, while awaiting a fuller atonement
+for this diabolical attempt. I strongly suspect the quarter from which
+this scheme has emanated; and however patiently I may bear my own
+wrongs, I am not of a nature to suffer those offered to my friends to
+remain unpunished. This, however, is my affair. Adieu, madame,--our
+intrigue is discovered; and you will be no more at liberty to work alone
+in befriending your protégées. But, never mind! Before long we will get
+up some mysterious enterprise, impossible to be found out; and we will
+even defy the marquis, with all his penetration, to know more than we
+choose to tell him."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After accompanying Rodolph to his carriage with reiterated thanks and
+praises, the marquis retired to his apartments without again seeing
+Clémence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+REFLECTIONS.
+
+
+It would be difficult to describe the tumultuous and opposing sentiments
+that agitated M. d'Harville when alone. He reflected with delight on the
+detection of the unworthy falsehood charged upon Rodolph and Clémence;
+but he was, at the same time, thoroughly convinced that he must for ever
+forego the hope of being loved by her. The more Clémence had proved
+herself, in her conversation with Rodolph, resigned, full of courage,
+and bent on acting rightly, the more bitterly did M. d'Harville reproach
+himself for having, in his culpable egotism, chained the lot of his
+unhappy young wife to his own. Far from being consoled by the
+conversation he had overheard, he fell into a train of sorrowful thought
+and indescribable anguish.
+
+Riches, without occupation, bring with them this wretchedness. Nothing
+can divert it, nothing relieve it, from the deepest feelings of mental
+torture. Not being compulsorily preoccupied by cares for the future or
+daily toil, it is utterly exposed to heavy moral affliction. Able to
+acquire all that money can purchase, it desires or regrets with intense
+violence--
+
+      "What gold could never buy."
+
+The mental torture of M. d'Harville was intense, for, after all, what he
+desired was only what was just, and actually legal,--the society, if not
+the love, of his wife.
+
+But, when placed beside the inexorable refusal of Clémence, he asked
+himself if there was not the bitterest derision in these words of the
+law: The wife belongs to her husband.
+
+To what influence, to what means could he have recourse to subdue this
+coldness, this repugnance, which turned his whole existence into one
+long punishment, since he could not--ought not--would not love any woman
+but his wife?
+
+He could not but see in this, as in many other positions of conjugal
+life, the simple will of the husband or the wife imperatively
+substituted, without appeal or possibility of prevention, for the
+sovereign will of the law.
+
+To the paroxysms of vain anger there succeeded a melancholy depression.
+The future weighed him down, heavy, dull, and chill. He only saw before
+him the grief that would doubtless render more frequent the attacks of
+his fearful malady.
+
+"Oh," he exclaimed, at once in tears and despair, "it is my fault,--it
+is my fault! Poor, unhappy girl! I deceived her,--shamefully deceived
+her! She must,--she ought to hate me; and yet but now she displayed the
+deepest interest in me, and, instead of contenting myself with that, my
+mad passion led me away, and I became tender. I spoke of my love, and
+scarcely had my lips touched her hand than she became startled, and
+bounded with fright. If I could for a moment have doubted the invincible
+repugnance with which I inspire her, what she said to the prince must
+for ever destroy that illusion. Ah, it is frightful,--frightful! By what
+right has she confided to him this hideous secret? It is an unworthy
+betrayal! By what right?--alas, by the right the victim has to complain
+of its executioner! Poor girl! So young,--so loving! All she could find
+most cruel to say against the horrid existence I have entailed upon her
+was, that such was not the lot of which she had dreamed, and that she
+was very young to renounce all hopes of love! I know Clémence, and the
+word she gave me,--the word she gave to the prince,--she will abide by
+for ever. She will be to me the tenderest of sisters! Well, is not my
+position still most enviable? To the cold and constrained demeanour
+which existed between us will succeed affectionate and gentle
+intercourse, whilst she might have treated me always with icy disdain of
+which it was impossible that I could complain. So, then, I will console
+myself by the enjoyment of what she offers to me. Shall I not be too
+happy then?--too happy? Ah, how weak I am! How cowardly! Is she not my
+wife, after all? Is she not mine and mine only? Does not the law
+recognise my right over her? My wife refuses, but is not the right on my
+side?" he interrupted himself, with a burst of sardonic laughter.
+
+"Oh, yes,--be violent, eh? What, another infamy? But what can I do? For
+I love her yet,--love her to madness! I love her and her only! I want
+but her,--her love, and not the lukewarm regard of a sister. Ah, at last
+she must have pity; she is so kind, and she will see how unhappy I am!
+But no, no! Never! Mine is a case of estrangement which a woman never
+can surmount. Disgust,--yes, disgust,--I cannot but see it,--disgust! I
+must convince myself that it is my horrid infirmity that frightens her,
+and always must,--always must!" exclaimed M. d'Harville, in his fearful
+excitement.
+
+After a moment of gloomy silence, he continued:
+
+"This anonymous attack, which accused the prince and my wife, comes from
+the hand of an enemy; and yet, but an hour ago, before I saw through it,
+I suspected him. Him!--to believe him capable of such base treachery!
+And my wife, too, I included in the same suspicion! Ah, jealousy is
+incurable! And yet I must not abuse myself. If the prince, who loves me
+as his best and dearest friend, has made Clémence promise to occupy her
+mind and heart in charitable works, if he promises her his advice, his
+support, it is because she requires advice, needs support. And, indeed,
+lovely and young, and surrounded as she is, and without that love in her
+heart which protects and even almost excuses her wrongs through mine,
+which are so atrocious, must she not fall? Another torturing thought!
+What I have suffered when I thought her guilty,--fallen,--Heaven knows
+what agony! But, no; the fear is vain! Clémence has sworn never to fail
+in her duties, and she will keep her promise,--strictly keep it! But at
+what a price! At what a price! But now, when she turned towards me with
+affectionate language, what agony did I feel at the sight of her gentle,
+sad, and resigned smile! How much this return to me must have cost! Poor
+love! how lovely and affecting she seemed at that moment! For the first
+time I felt a fierce remorse, for, up to that moment, her haughty
+coldness had sufficiently avenged her. Oh, wretch!--wretch that I am!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After a long and sleepless night, spent in bitter reflections, the
+agitation of M. d'Harville ceased, as if by enchantment. He had come to
+an unalterable resolution. He awaited daybreak with excessive
+impatience.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Early in the morning he rang for his _valet de chambre_.
+
+When old Joseph entered his master's room, to his great surprise he
+heard him hum a hunting song,--a sign, as rare as certain, that M.
+d'Harville was in good humour.
+
+"Ah, M. le Marquis," said the faithful old servant, quite affected,
+"what a charming voice you have! What a pity that you do not sing more
+frequently!"
+
+"Really, Joseph, have I a charming voice?" said M. d'Harville, smiling.
+
+"If M. le Marquis had a voice as hoarse as a night raven or as harsh as
+a rattle, I should still think he had a charming voice."
+
+"Be silent, you flatterer!"
+
+"Why, when you sing, M. le Marquis, it is a sign you are happy, and then
+your voice sounds to me the most beautiful music in the world."
+
+"In that case, Joseph, my old friend, prepare to open your long ears."
+
+"What do you mean, sir?"
+
+"You may enjoy every day the music which you call charming, and of which
+you seem so fond."
+
+"What! You will be happy every day, M. le Marquis?" exclaimed Joseph,
+clasping his hands with extreme delight.
+
+"Every day, my old Joseph, happy every day. Yes, no more sorrow,--no
+more sadness. I can tell you, the only and discreet confidant of my
+troubles, that I am at the height of happiness. My wife is an angel of
+goodness, and has asked my forgiveness for her past estrangement,
+attributing it (can you imagine?) to jealousy."
+
+"To jealousy?"
+
+"Yes, absurd suspicions, excited by anonymous letters."
+
+"How shameful!"
+
+"You understand? Women have so much self-love,--a little more and we
+should have been separated; but, fortunately, last evening she explained
+all frankly to me, and I disabused her mind. To tell you her extreme
+delight would be impossible, for she loves me,--oh, yes, she loves me!
+The coldness she evinced towards me lay as cruelly on herself as on me,
+and now, at length, our distressing separation has ended. Only conceive
+my delight!"
+
+"Can it be true?" cried Joseph, with tears in his eyes. "Can it really
+be true, M. le Marquis? And now your life will be happy, for it was only
+my lady's love that you required, or, rather, since her estrangement was
+your sole misery, as you told me."
+
+"And to whom but you should I have told it, my worthy old Joseph? Do
+not you possess, also, a still sadder secret? But do not let us say
+anything more of sorrows now,--it is too bright a time. You see,
+perhaps, that I have been weeping? It is because this happiness has come
+over me so suddenly, when I so little anticipated it! How weak I am!--am
+I not?"
+
+"Well, well, M. le Marquis, you may weep for joy as much as you please,
+for you have wept long enough for pain; and now see, do not I do as you
+do? They are right sort of tears, and I would not give them for ten
+years more of life. I have now but one fear, and that is, not to be able
+to prevent myself from falling at the feet of Madame la Marquise the
+first time I see her."
+
+"Silly old fellow! Why you are as weak as your master. And now I have
+but one fear."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"That this will not last; I am too happy. What now is wanting to me?"
+
+"Nothing,--nothing, M. le Marquis,--absolutely nothing."
+
+"That is why I mistrust such perfect happiness,--too complete."
+
+"Alas! If that is all, why, M. le Marquis--But no, I dare not."
+
+"I understand you. Well, I believe your fears are vain. The change which
+my happiness causes me is so intense, so complete, that I am almost sure
+of being nearly cured."
+
+"How?"
+
+"My doctor has told me a hundred times that a violent emotion is
+frequently sufficient either to bring on or to cure this terrible
+malady."
+
+"You are right, monsieur,--you are cured, and what a blessing that is!
+Ah, as you say, M. le Marquis, the marquise is a good angel come down
+from heaven; and I begin myself to be almost alarmed lest the happiness
+is too great; but now I think of it, if you only want a small matter
+just to annoy you, thank God, I have just the very thing!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"One of your friends has very luckily had a sword-wound, very slight, to
+be sure; but that's all the same, it is quite enough for you, as you
+desire to make a small black spot in your too happy day."
+
+"What do you mean, and of whom do you speak?"
+
+"The Duke de Lucenay."
+
+"Is he wounded?"
+
+"A scratch in the arm. M. the Duke came yesterday to call on you, sir,
+and told me he should come again this morning, and invite himself to a
+cup of tea."
+
+"Poor Lucenay! And why did you not tell me this?"
+
+"I could not see you last night, M. le Marquis."
+
+After a moment's reflection, M. d'Harville resumed:
+
+"You are right, this slight regret will, doubtless, satisfy jealous
+Fate. But an idea has come across me; I should like to get up a
+bachelors' breakfast this morning of all the friends of M. de Lucenay,
+to celebrate the fortunate result of his duel; not anticipating such a
+meeting, he will be delighted."
+
+"A capital idea, M. le Marquis. _Vive la joie!_ Let us make up for lost
+time. For how many shall I desire the _maître d'hôtel_ to lay covers?"
+
+"For six, in the small winter dining-room."
+
+"And the invitations?"
+
+"I will write them. Let a groom get his horse ready, and take them
+instantly. It is very early, and he will find everybody at home. Ring."
+
+Joseph rang the bell.
+
+M. d'Harville entered into his cabinet, and wrote the following letter,
+with no other alteration than the name of each invited guest.
+
+      "MY DEAR ----: This is a circular, and is also an impromptu.
+    Lucenay is coming to breakfast with me this morning, expecting
+    only a _tęte-ŕ-tęte_. Will you join me and several friends, whom
+    I also invite, in giving him an agreeable surprise?
+
+      "Twelve punctually.
+
+                                              "M. D'HARVILLE."
+
+A servant entered.
+
+"Desire some one to get on horseback, and deliver these notes directly,"
+said M. d'Harville; and then, addressing Joseph, "Write the addresses:
+M. le Vicomte de Saint-Remy,--Lucenay cannot get on without him," said
+M. d'Harville to himself; "M. de Monville, one of the duke's travelling
+companions; Lord Douglas, his beloved partner at whist; the Baron de
+Sézannes, one of the friends of his childhood. Have you done?"
+
+"Yes, M. le Marquis."
+
+"Send them off, then, without losing a minute's time," said M.
+d'Harville.
+
+"Ah, Philippe, request M. Doublet to come and speak to me."
+
+Philippe left the room.
+
+"Well, what is the matter with you?" inquired M. d'Harville of Joseph,
+who looked at him with astonishment.
+
+"I cannot get over it, sir; I never saw you in such spirits,--so lively;
+and then you, who are usually so pale, have got such a colour, and your
+eyes sparkle."
+
+"Happiness, my old friend,--happiness, and nothing else; and you must
+assist me in my little plot. You must go and learn of Mlle. Juliette,
+Madame d'Harville's waiting-woman, who has the care of her diamonds."
+
+"Yes, M. le Marquis, it is Mlle. Juliette who has the charge of them,
+for it is not eight days since I helped her to clean them."
+
+"Ask her to tell you the name of her lady's jeweller, but not to say a
+word on the subject to her mistress."
+
+"Ah, I understand,--a surprise."
+
+"Go as quickly as possible. Here is M. Doublet."
+
+And the steward entered as Joseph quitted the apartment.
+
+"I have the honour to attend the orders of M. le Marquis."
+
+"My dear M. Doublet, I am going to alarm you," said M. d'Harville,
+smiling; "I shall compel you to utter fearful cries of distress."
+
+"Me, sir?"
+
+"You."
+
+"I will endeavour to give satisfaction to M. le Marquis."
+
+"I am going to spend an enormous sum, M. Doublet."
+
+"Why not, M. le Marquis? We are well able to do so."
+
+"I have been planning a considerable extent of building. I propose to
+annex a gallery in the garden, on the right wing of the hôtel. After
+having hesitated at this folly, of which I have not before spoken to
+you, I have made up my mind on the point, and I wish you to send to-day
+to my architect, desiring him to come and talk over the plans with me.
+Well, M. Doublet, you do not seem to object to the outlay."
+
+"I can assure your lordship that I have no objection whatsoever."
+
+"This gallery is destined for fętes, and I wish to have it erected as
+though by enchantment; and, as enchantments are very dear, we must sell
+fifteen or twenty thousand livres of income in order to meet the
+expenditure, for I wish the work to be begun as speedily as possible."
+
+"I have always said there is nothing which M. le Marquis wants, unless
+it be a certain taste. That for building has the advantage of having the
+buildings always left; as to money, M. le Marquis need not alarm
+himself, and he may, if he pleases, build the gallery."
+
+Joseph returned.
+
+"Here, M. le Marquis, is the address of the jeweller, whose name is M.
+Baudoin," said he to M. d'Harville.
+
+"My dear M. Doublet, will you go to this jeweller's, and desire him to
+bring here in an hour a river of diamonds, worth, say, two thousand
+louis? Women never have too many jewels, now they wear gowns decorated
+with them. You can arrange with the jeweller as to the payment."
+
+"Yes, M. le Marquis; and I do not even yet begin to groan. Diamonds are
+like buildings,--they remain. And then, no doubt, the surprise will
+greatly please Madame la Marquise, without counting the pleasure that
+you yourself will experience. It is as I had the honour of saying the
+other day, there is not in the world any person whose existence can be
+more delightful than that of M. le Marquis."
+
+"My dear M. Doublet," said M. d'Harville, with a smile, "your
+congratulations are always so peculiarly apropos."
+
+"That is their only merit, M. le Marquis; and they possess that merit,
+perhaps, because they proceed from the heart. I will run to the
+jeweller."
+
+As soon as he was alone, M. d'Harville began to pace up and down his
+cabinet, with his arms folded, and his eye fixed and meditative. His
+features suddenly changed, and no longer expressed that somewhat
+feverish contentment of which the steward and his old servant had been
+the dupes, but assumed a calm, sad, and chilling resolution. Afterwards,
+having paced up and down for a short time, he sunk into a chair heavily,
+and, as though weighed down with sorrow, placed his elbows on his desk,
+and hid his face in his hands. After a moment he rose suddenly, wiped a
+tear which moistened his red eyelid, and said with effort:
+
+"Come, come! Courage, courage!"
+
+He then wrote to several persons on very trifling matters, and postponed
+various meetings for some days. The marquis had concluded this
+correspondence when Joseph again entered, so gay, and so forgetful of
+himself, as to hum a tune in his turn.
+
+"M. Joseph, what a charming voice you have!" said his master, jestingly.
+
+"_Ma foi!_ so much the worse, M. le Marquis, for I don't care about it.
+I am singing so merrily within, that my music must be heard without."
+
+"Send these letters to the post."
+
+"Yes, M. le Marquis; but where will you receive the gentlemen who are
+expected this morning?"
+
+"Here, in my cabinet; they will smoke after breakfast, and then the
+smell of the tobacco will not reach Madame d'Harville."
+
+At this moment the noise of carriage wheels was heard in the courtyard
+of the hôtel.
+
+"It is Madame la Marquise going out; she ordered her carriage very early
+this morning," said Joseph.
+
+"Run and request her to be so kind and come here before she goes out."
+
+"Yes, M. le Marquis."
+
+The domestic had scarcely left the room when M. d'Harville approached a
+mirror, and looked at himself attentively.
+
+"Well, well," said he, in a hoarse voice, "it is there,--the flushed
+cheeks--the bright look--joy or fever, it is little consequence which,
+so that they are deceived; now, then, for the smile on the lips,--there
+are so many sorts of smiles! But who can distinguish the false from the
+true? Who can peep beneath the false mask, and say, 'That laugh hides a
+dark despair, that noisy gaiety conceals a thought of death?' Who could
+guess that? No one,--fortunately, no one,--no one! Ah, yes, love would
+never be mistaken; his instinct would enlighten him. But I hear my
+wife,--my wife! Now, then, sinister actor, play thy part."
+
+Clémence entered M. d'Harville's apartment.
+
+"Good morrow, dear brother Albert," she said, in a tone full of
+sweetness. Then, observing the smiling expression of her husband's
+countenance, "But what is it, my dear, that gives you such a smiling
+air?"
+
+"It was because, when you entered, my dear sister, I was thinking of
+you, and, moreover, I was under the influence of an excellent
+resolution."
+
+"That does not surprise me."
+
+"What took place yesterday,--your extreme generosity, the prince's noble
+conduct,--has given me much food for reflection, and I am
+converted,--entirely converted to your ideas."
+
+"Indeed! That is a happy change!" exclaimed Madame d'Harville. "Ah! I
+was sure that, when I appealed to your heart, to your reason, you would
+understand me; and now I have no doubt about the future."
+
+"Nor I either, Clémence, I assure you. Yes, since my resolution last
+night, the future, which seemed so vague and sombre, is singularly
+brightened and simplified."
+
+"Nothing can be more natural, my dear. Now we both go towards the same
+end, like a brother and sister, mutually dependent on each other; at the
+end of our career we shall find each other what we are to-day. The
+feeling will be unalterable. In a word, I wish you to be happy; and you
+shall be, for I have resolved it there," said Clémence, placing her
+finger on her forehead. Then she added, with charming emphasis, lowering
+her hand to her heart, "No, I mistake, it is here. That is the good
+thought that will watch over you incessantly, and myself also; and you
+shall see, my brother, in what the obstinacy of a devoted heart
+consists."
+
+"Dear Clémence!" said M. d'Harville with repressed emotion; then, after
+a moment's silence, he continued, in a gay tone:
+
+"I sent to beg you to come here before you went out, to tell you that I
+could not take tea with you this morning. I have some friends to
+breakfast,--a sort of impromptu,--to celebrate the fortunate result of a
+duel of poor Lucenay, who, by the way, was only very slightly wounded by
+his adversary."
+
+Madame d'Harville blushed when she reflected on the origin of this
+duel,--an absurd remark addressed in her presence by the Duke de Lucenay
+to M. Charles Robert. It reminded her of an _erreur_ of which she was
+ashamed, and, to escape from the pain she felt, she said to her husband:
+
+"What a singular chance! M. de Lucenay is coming to breakfast with you,
+and I am going, perhaps rather indiscreetly, to invite myself this
+morning to Madame de Lucenay's; for I have a great deal to say to her
+about my two unknowns. From her, it is my intention to go to the prison
+of St. Lazare with Madame de Blinval, for you do not know all my
+projects; at this time I am intriguing to get admittance into the
+workroom of the young prisoner-girls."
+
+"You are really insatiable," said M. d'Harville, with a smile; and then
+he added, with a painful emotion, which, despite his efforts, betrayed
+itself a little, "Then I shall see you no more to-day."
+
+"Does it annoy you that I should go out so early?" asked Clémence,
+quickly, astonished at the tone of his voice. "If you wish it, I can put
+off my visit to Madame de Lucenay."
+
+The Marquis had nearly betrayed himself, but continued, in an
+affectionate tone:
+
+"Yes, my dear little sister, I am as annoyed to see you go out, as I
+shall be impatient to see you return, and these are faults of which I
+shall never be corrected."
+
+"And you are quite right, dear; for if you did I should be very, very
+sorry."
+
+The sound of a bell, announcing a visit, was now heard.
+
+"Here is one of your guests, no doubt," said Madame d'Harville. "I leave
+you; but, by the way, what are you going to do in the evening? If you
+have no better engagement, I require you to accompany me to the Italian
+Opera; perhaps now you will like the music better."
+
+"I am at your orders with the utmost pleasure."
+
+"Are you going out by and by? Shall I see you before dinner?"
+
+"I shall not go out; you will find me here."
+
+"Well, then, on my return, I shall come and inquire if your bachelors'
+breakfast has been amusing."
+
+"Adieu, Clémence!"
+
+"Adieu, dear! We shall soon meet again. I leave you a clear house, and
+wish you may be as merry as possible. Be very gay and lively, mind."
+
+Having cordially shaken her husband's hand, Clémence went out of one
+door as M. de Lucenay entered by another.
+
+"She wished me to be as merry as possible, and bade me be gay! In the
+word adieu, in that last cry of my soul in its agony, in that word of
+complete and eternal separation, she has understood that we should meet
+again soon,--this evening,--and leaves me tranquilly, and with a smile!
+It does honour to my dissimulation. By heaven, I did not think that I
+was so good an actor! But here is Lucenay."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE BACHELORS' BREAKFAST.
+
+
+M. de Lucenay came into the room.
+
+The duke's wound had been so slight, that he did not even carry his arm
+in a sling. His countenance was, as usual, mirthful, yet proud; his
+motion perpetual; and his restlessness, as usual, unconquerable. In
+spite of his awkwardness, his ill-timed pleasantries, and in spite of
+his immense nose, which gave his face a grotesque and odd character, M.
+de Lucenay was not, as we have already said, a vulgar person, thanks to
+a kind of natural dignity and bold impertinence, which never forsook
+him.
+
+"How indifferent you must think me to what concerns you, my dear Henry!"
+said M. d'Harville, extending his hand to M. de Lucenay; "but it was
+only this morning that I heard of your unfortunate adventure."
+
+"Unfortunate! Pooh--pooh, marquis! I had my money's worth, as they say.
+I really never laughed so in my life. The worthy M. Robert was so
+religiously determined to maintain that he never had a phlegmy cough, in
+all his life,--but you do not know! This was the cause of the duel. The
+other evening at the ---- embassy, I asked him, before your wife and the
+Countess Macgregor, how his phlegmy cough was? _Inde irć!_ for, between
+ourselves, he had nothing of the kind; but it was all the same, and, you
+may suppose, to have such a thing alluded to before pretty women was
+very provoking."
+
+"How foolish! Yet it is so like you! But who is this M. Robert?"
+
+"_Ma foi!_ I have not the slightest idea in the world. He is a person
+whom I met at the Spas; he passed by us in the winter garden at the
+embassy, and I called to him to play off this foolish jest, to which he
+gallantly replied the next day by giving me a touch with his
+sword-point. This is the history of our acquaintance. But let us speak
+no more of such follies. I have come to ask you for a cup of tea."
+
+So saying, M. de Lucenay flung himself down full length on the sofa;
+after which, poking the point of his cane between the wall and the frame
+of a picture hanging over his head, he began to move it about, and try
+and balance the frame.
+
+"I expected you, my dear Henry; and I have got up a surprise for you,"
+said M. d'Harville.
+
+"Ah, bah! and in what way?" exclaimed M. de Lucenay, giving to the
+picture a very doubtful kind of balance.
+
+"You will unquestionably unhook that picture, and let it down on your
+head."
+
+"_Pardieu!_ I believe you are right. What an eagle's eye you have! But,
+tell me, what is this surprise of yours?"
+
+"I have invited some of our friends to come and breakfast with us!"
+
+"Really! Well, that is capital! Bravo, marquis,--bravissimo!
+ultra-bravissimo!" exclaimed M. de Lucenay, in a lusty voice, and
+beating the sofa cushions with his cane with all his might. "And who
+shall we have,--Saint-Remy? No, I recollect; he has been in the country
+for some days. What the devil can he be pattering about in the country
+in the mid-winter for?"
+
+"Are you sure he is not in Paris?"
+
+"Quite sure; for I wrote to him to go out with me, and learned he was
+absent; and so I fell back upon Lord Douglas, and Sézannes."
+
+"Nothing can be better; they breakfast with us."
+
+"Bravo! bravo! bravo!" exclaimed M. de Lucenay again, with lusty lungs;
+and then, wriggling and twisting himself on the sofa, he accompanied his
+cries with a series of fishlike bounds and springs, which would have
+made a boatman envious. The acrobatic exercises of the Duke de Lucenay
+were interrupted by the arrival of M. de Saint-Remy.
+
+"There was no occasion to ask if Lucenay was here," said the viscount,
+gaily; "one could hear him below stairs."
+
+"What! Is it you, graceful sylvan, country swain,--wolf of the woods?"
+exclaimed the duke, in his surprise, and sitting up suddenly. "I thought
+you were in the country!"
+
+"I came back yesterday; and, having this instant received D'Harville's
+invitation, I have hastened hither, quite delighted to make one in so
+pleasant a surprise." And M. de Saint-Remy extended his hand to M. de
+Lucenay, and then to the marquis.
+
+"Let me thank you for your speed, my dear Saint-Remy. Is it not natural?
+The friends of Lucenay ought to rejoice in the fortunate result of this
+duel, which, after all, might have had very serious results."
+
+"But," resumed the duke, doggedly, "what on earth have you been doing in
+the country in the middle of winter, Saint-Remy? It mystifies me."
+
+"How inquisitive he is!" said the viscount, addressing M. d'Harville;
+and then, turning to the duke, "I am anxious to wean myself gradually
+from Paris, as I am soon to quit it."
+
+"Ah, yes, the beautiful idea of attaching you to the legation from
+France to Gerolstein! Pray leave off those silly ideas of diplomacy! You
+will never go. My wife says so, everybody says the same."
+
+"I assure you that Madame de Lucenay is mistaken, as well as all the
+rest of the world."
+
+"She told you, in my presence, that it was a folly."
+
+"How many have I committed in my life?"
+
+"Yes, elegant, charming follies, true;--such as people said would ruin
+you in your Sardanapalian magnificences,--that I admit. But to go and
+bury yourself alive in such a court,--at Gerolstein! What an idea! Psha!
+It is a folly, an absurdity; and you have too much good sense to commit
+absurdities."
+
+"Take care, my dear Lucenay. When you abuse this German court, you will
+get up a quarrel with D'Harville, the intimate friend of the grand duke
+regnant, who, moreover, received me with the best possible grace at the
+embassy, where I was presented to him."
+
+"Really, my dear Henry," said M. d'Harville, "if you knew the grand duke
+as I know him, you would understand that Saint-Remy could have no
+repugnance to passing some time at Gerolstein."
+
+"I believe you, marquis, although they do say that he is very haughty
+and very peculiar, your grand duke; but that will not hinder a don like
+Saint-Remy, the finest sifting of the finest flour, from being unable to
+live anywhere but in Paris. It is in Paris only that he is duly
+appreciated."
+
+The other guests of M. d'Harville now arrived, when Joseph entered, and
+said a few words in a low voice to his master.
+
+"Gentlemen," said the marquis, "will you allow me?--it is my wife's
+jeweller, who has brought some diamonds to select for her,--a surprise.
+You understand that, Lucenay? We are husbands of the old sort, you and
+I."
+
+"Ah, _pardieu_! If it is a surprise you mean," shouted the duke, "my
+wife gave me one yesterday, and a famous one too!"
+
+"Some magnificent present?"
+
+"She asked me for a hundred thousand francs (4,000_l._)."
+
+"And you are such a magnifico--you--"
+
+"Lent them to her; they are advanced as mortgage on her Arnouville
+estate. Right reckonings make good friends,--but that's by the by. To
+lend in two hours a hundred thousand francs to a friend who requires
+that sum is what I call pretty, but rare. Is it not prodigal, you who
+are a connoisseur in loans?" said the duke, laughingly, to Saint-Remy,
+little thinking of the cutting purport of his words.
+
+In spite of his effrontery, the viscount blushed slightly, and then
+replied, with composure:
+
+"A hundred thousand francs?--that is immense! What could a woman ever
+want with such a sum as a hundred thousand francs? As for us men, that
+is quite a different matter."
+
+"_Ma foi!_ I really do not know what she could want with such a sum as
+that. But that's not my affair. Some arrears for the toilet, probably?
+The tradespeople hungry and annoying,--that's her affair. And, as you
+know very well, my dear Saint-Remy, that, as it was I who lent my wife
+the money, it would have been in the worst possible taste in me to have
+inquired the purpose for which she required it."
+
+"Yet," said the viscount, with a laugh, "there is usually a singular
+curiosity on the part of those who lend money to know what is done with
+it."
+
+"_Parbleu!_ Saint-Remy," said M. d'Harville, "you have such exquisite
+taste, that you must help me to choose the ornament I intend for my
+wife. Your approbation will consecrate my choice; your decisions are
+sovereign in all that concerns the fashion."
+
+The jeweller entered, bringing with him several caskets of gems in a
+large leather bag.
+
+"Ah, it is M. Baudoin!" said M. de Lucenay.
+
+"At your grace's service."
+
+"I am sure that it is you who ruined my wife with your dazzling and
+infernal temptations," said M. de Lucenay.
+
+"Madame la Duchesse has only had her diamonds reset this winter," said
+the jeweller, slightly embarrassed; "and now, as I came to M. le
+Marquis, I left them with her grace."
+
+M. de Saint-Remy knew that Madame de Lucenay, to aid him, had changed
+her jewels for false stones. He was disagreeably embarrassed at this
+rencontre, but said, boldly:
+
+"How curious these husbands are!--don't answer any inquisitive
+interrogatories, M. Baudoin."
+
+"Curious; _ma foi!_ no," said the duke; "it is my wife who pays. She can
+afford all her whims, for she is much richer than I am."
+
+During this conversation, M. Baudoin had displayed on a table several
+superb necklaces of rubies and diamonds.
+
+"What a fine water, and how exquisitely those stones are cut!" said Lord
+Douglas.
+
+"Alas, sir!" said the jeweller, "I employed in this work one of the most
+skilful lapidaries in Paris, named Morel; but, unfortunately, he has
+become insane, and I shall never find such another workman. My matcher
+of stones says that, in all probability, it was his wretched condition
+that deprived the man of his senses, poor fellow!"
+
+"Wretched condition! What! do you trust diamonds to people in distress?"
+
+"Certainly, sir; and there is no instance of a lapidary having ever
+pilfered anything, however miserable and destitute his condition."
+
+"How much for this necklace?" inquired M. d'Harville.
+
+"M. le Marquis will observe that the stones are of a splendid water and
+cut, and nearly all of a size."
+
+"These oratorical prefaces threaten your purse," said M. de Saint-Remy,
+with a laugh. "Now, my dear D'Harville, look out for a high price."
+
+"Come, M. Baudoin, have a conscience, and ask the price you mean to
+take!" said M. d'Harville.
+
+"I will not haggle with your lordship. The lowest price is forty-two
+thousand francs (11,680_l._)."
+
+"Gentlemen," exclaimed M. de Lucenay, "let us who are married admire
+D'Harville in silence. A man who contrives a surprise for his wife to
+the amount of forty-two thousand francs! _Diable!_ we must not noise
+that abroad, or it would be a detestable precedent."
+
+"Laugh on, gentlemen, as much as you please," said the marquis, gaily.
+"I love my wife, and am not ashamed to confess it; on the contrary, I
+boast of it."
+
+"It is plain enough to be seen," said M. de Saint-Remy; "such a present
+speaks more eloquently than all the protestation in the world."
+
+"I will take this necklace, then," said M. d'Harville, "if the setting
+of black enamel seems to you in good taste, Saint-Remy."
+
+"Oh, it sets off the brilliancy of the stones; it is exquisitely
+devised."
+
+"Then this it shall be," said M. d'Harville. "You will settle, M.
+Baudoin, with M. Doublet, my man of business."
+
+"M. Doublet told me as much, my lord marquis," said the jeweller, who
+quitted the apartment, after having packed up his bag without counting
+the jewels which he had brought (such was his confidence), and
+notwithstanding M. de Saint-Remy had for a long time and curiously
+handled and examined them during the interview.
+
+M. d'Harville gave the necklace to Joseph, who was waiting, and said to
+him, in a low tone:
+
+"Mlle. Juliette must put these diamonds cleverly away with those of her
+mistress, so that la marquise may not suspect; and then her surprise
+will be the greater."
+
+At this moment the _maître d'hôtel_ announced that the breakfast was
+ready; and the guests, passing into the dining-room, seated themselves.
+
+"Do you know, my dear D'Harville," said M. de Lucenay, "that this house
+is one of the most elegant and best arranged in Paris?"
+
+"It is very convenient, certainly, but we want room; I have a plan to
+add a gallery on the garden. Madame d'Harville wishes to give some grand
+balls, and our salons are not large enough. Then, I think, nothing is
+more inconvenient than the encroachments of fętes on the apartments one
+usually occupies, and from which, on such occasions, you are necessarily
+driven."
+
+"I am quite of D'Harville's opinion," said M. de Saint-Remy; "nothing is
+more wretched, more tradesmanlike, than these movings, compelled by the
+coming of balls and concerts. To give fętes, really of the first class,
+without inconveniencing oneself, there must be devoted to their uses
+peculiar and special suites of apartments; and then vast and splendid
+rooms, devoted to a magnificent ball, ought to assume an appearance
+wholly distinct from that of ordinary salons. There is the same
+difference between these two sets of apartments as between a monumental
+fresco-painting and a sketch on a painter's easel."
+
+"He is right," said M. d'Harville. "What a pity, gentlemen, that
+Saint-Remy has not twelve or fifteen hundred thousand livres a year!
+What wonders he would create for our admiration!"
+
+"Since we have the happiness to possess a representative government,"
+said the Duke de Lucenay, "the country ought to vote a million or two a
+year to Saint-Remy, and authorise him to represent in Paris the French
+taste and elegance, which should decide the taste and elegance of all
+Europe,--all the world."
+
+"Adopted!" cried the guests in chorus.
+
+"And we would raise these annual millions as compulsory taxes on those
+abominable misers, who, being possessors of colossal fortunes, should be
+marked down, accused, and convicted of living like gripe-farthings,"
+added M. de Lucenay.
+
+"And as such," added M. d'Harville, "condemned to defray those
+splendours which they ought to display."
+
+"Not including that these functions of high priest, or, rather, grand
+master of elegance, which would devolve on Saint-Remy," continued M. de
+Lucenay, "would have, by imitation, an enormous influence on the general
+taste."
+
+"He would be the type which all would seek to resemble."
+
+"That is evident."
+
+"And, in endeavouring to imitate him, taste would become purified."
+
+"At the time of the Renaissance taste became universally excellent,
+because it was modelled on that of the aristocracy, which was
+exquisite."
+
+"By the serious turn which the question has taken," said M. d'Harville,
+gaily, "I see that we have only to address a petition to the Chambers
+for the establishment of the office of grand master of French elegance."
+
+"And as the Deputies have credit for possessing very elevated, very
+artistic, and very magnificent ideas, of course it will be voted by
+acclamation."
+
+"Whilst we are waiting the decision which shall establish as a right the
+supremacy which Saint-Remy exercises in fact," said M. d'Harville, "I
+will ask him his opinion as to the gallery which I propose to erect; for
+I have been struck with his ideas as to the right splendour of fętes."
+
+"My faint lights are at your service, D'Harville."
+
+"And when shall we commence our magnificences, my dear fellow?"
+
+"Next year, I suppose, for I intend to begin my works without delay."
+
+"How full of projects you are!"
+
+"_Ma foi!_ I have others also; I contemplate an entire alteration of
+Val-Richer."
+
+"Your estate in Burgundy?"
+
+"Yes; there is much that may be done there, if, indeed, God grants me
+life."
+
+"Poor old fellow!"
+
+"Have you not recently bought a farm near Val-Richer to complete your
+ring-fence?"
+
+"Yes, a very nice thing, to which I was advised by my notary."
+
+"And who is this rare and precious notary who advises such admirable
+purchases?"
+
+"M. Jacques Ferrand."
+
+At this name a slight shudder came over M. de Saint-Remy, and he frowned
+imperceptibly.
+
+"Is he really the honest man they call him?" he inquired, carelessly, of
+M. d'Harville, who then remembered what Rodolph had related to Clémence
+about the notary.
+
+"Jacques Ferrand? What a question! Why, his honesty is a proverb," said
+M. de Lucenay.
+
+"As respected as respectable."
+
+"And very pious; which does him no harm."
+
+"Excessively stingy; which is a guarantee for his clients."
+
+"In fact, he is one of the notaries of the 'old rock,' who ask you whom
+you take them for when you ask them for a receipt for the money which
+you place in their hands."
+
+"That would have no effect on me; I would trust him with my whole
+fortune."
+
+"But where the deuce did Saint-Remy imbibe his doubts with respect to
+this honest man, whose integrity is proverbial?"
+
+"I am but the echo of certain vague reports; besides, I have no reason
+for running down this phoenix of notaries. But to return to your
+plans, D'Harville, what is it you wish to build at Val-Richer? I have
+heard that the château is excessively beautiful."
+
+"Make yourself easy, my dear Saint-Remy, for you shall be consulted, and
+sooner than you expect, perhaps, for I take much pleasure in such works.
+I think that there is nothing more interesting than to have those
+affairs in hand, which expand as you examine them, and they advance,
+giving you occupation for years to come. To-day one project, next year
+another, after that something else springs up. Add to this a charming
+woman whom one adores, and who shares your every taste and pleasure,
+then, _ma foi!_ life passes sweetly enough."
+
+"I think so, _pardieu_! Why, it then makes earth a perfect paradise."
+
+"Now, gentlemen," said D'Harville, when the breakfast was finished, "if
+you will smoke a cigar in my cabinet, you will find some excellent
+Havannahs there."
+
+They rose from the table, and returned to the cabinet of the marquis.
+The door of his bedchamber, which communicated with it, was open. We
+have said the only decoration of the room consisted of two small racks
+of very beautiful arms.
+
+M. de Lucenay, having lighted a cigar, followed the marquis into his
+room.
+
+"You see, I am still a great lover of good weapons," said D'Harville to
+him.
+
+"Yes, and I see you have here some splendid English and French guns. _Ma
+foi!_ I hardly know which to admire most. Douglas," exclaimed M. de
+Lucenay, "come and see if these fowling-pieces are not equal to your
+crack Mantons."
+
+Lord Douglas, Saint-Remy, and the two other guests went into the
+marquis's room to examine the arms.
+
+M. d'Harville, taking down a duelling-pistol, cocked it, and said,
+laughingly:
+
+"Here, gentlemen, is the universal panacea for all the ills,--spleen,
+disgust, weariness."
+
+And as he spoke, jestingly, he placed the muzzle to his lips.
+
+"_Ma foi!_ I prefer another specific," said Saint-Remy; "that is only
+good in the most desperate cases."
+
+"Yes, but it is so speedy," said M. d'Harville. "Click! and it is done!"
+
+"Pray be cautious, D'Harville; these jokes are always so rash and
+dangerous; and accident happens in an instant," said M. de Lucenay.
+
+"My dear fellow, do you think I would do so if it were loaded?"
+
+"Of course not, but it is always imprudent."
+
+"See, gentlemen, how it is done. You introduce the muzzle delicately
+between the teeth, and then--"
+
+"How foolish you are, D'Harville, to place it so!" said M. de Lucenay.
+
+"You place your finger on the trigger--" continued M. d'Harville.
+
+"What a child! What folly at your age!"
+
+"A small touch on the lock," added the marquis, "and one goes--"
+
+As he spoke the pistol went off. M. d'Harville had blown his brains out.
+
+It is impossible to paint the horror,--the stupor, of M. d'Harville's
+guests.
+
+[Illustration: _M. d'Harville had blown his brains out._
+Original Etching by Mercier.]
+
+Next day the following appeared in one of the newspapers:
+
+    "Yesterday an event, as unforeseen as deplorable, put all the
+    Faubourg St. Germain in a state of excitement. One of those
+    imprudent acts, which every year produce such sad accidents, has
+    caused this terrible misfortune. The following are the facts
+    which we have gathered, the authenticity of which may be relied
+    upon.
+
+    "The Marquis d'Harville, the possessor of an immense fortune,
+    and scarcely twenty-six years of age, universally known for his
+    kind-hearted benevolence, and married but a few years to a wife
+    whom he idolised, had some friends to breakfast with him; on
+    leaving the table, they went into M. d'Harville's sleeping
+    apartment, where there were several firearms of considerable
+    value. Whilst the guests were looking at some choice
+    fowling-pieces, M. d'Harville in jest took up a pistol which he
+    thought was not loaded, and placed the muzzle to his lips.
+    Though warned by his friends, he pressed on the trigger,--the
+    pistol went off, and the unfortunate young gentleman dropped
+    down dead, with his skull horribly fractured. It is impossible
+    to describe the extreme consternation of the friends of M.
+    d'Harville, with whom but a few instants before he had been
+    talking of various plans and projects, full of life, spirits,
+    and animation. In fact, as if all the circumstances of this sad
+    event must be still more cruel by the most painful contrasts,
+    that very morning M. d'Harville, desirous of agreeably
+    surprising his wife, had purchased a most expensive ornament,
+    which he intended as a present to her. It was at this very
+    moment, when, perhaps, life had never appeared more smiling and
+    attractive, that he fell a victim to this most distressing
+    accident.
+
+    "All reflections on such a dreadful event are useless. We can
+    only remain overwhelmed at the inscrutable decrees of
+    Providence."
+
+We quote this journal in order to show the general opinion which
+attributed the death of Clémence's husband to fatal and lamentable
+imprudence.
+
+Is there any occasion to say that M. d'Harville alone carried with him
+to the tomb the mysterious secret of his voluntary death,--yes,
+voluntary and calculated upon, and meditated with as much calmness as
+generosity, in order that Clémence might not conceive the slightest
+suspicion as to the real cause of his suicide?
+
+Thus the projects of which M. d'Harville had talked with his steward and
+his friends,--those happy confidences to his old servant, the surprise
+which he proposed for his wife, were all but so many precautions for the
+public credulity.
+
+How could it be supposed that a man so preoccupied as to the future, so
+anxious to please his wife, could think of killing himself? His death
+was, therefore, attributed to imprudence, and could not be attributed to
+anything else.
+
+As to his determination, an incurable despair had dictated that. By
+showing herself as affectionate towards him, and as tender as she had
+formerly been cold and disdainful, by again appearing to entertain a
+high regard, Clémence had awakened in the heart of her husband deep
+remorse.
+
+Seeing her so sadly resigned to a long life without love, passed with a
+man visited by an incurable and frightful malady, and utterly persuaded
+that, after her solemn conversation, Clémence could never subdue the
+repugnance with which he inspired her, M. d'Harville was seized with a
+profound pity for his wife, and an entire disgust for himself and for
+life.
+
+In the exasperation of his anguish, he said to himself:
+
+"I only love,--I never can love,--but one woman in the world, and she is
+my own wife. Her conduct, full of noble-heartedness and high mind, would
+but increase my mad passion, if it be possible to increase it. And she,
+my wife, can never belong to me! She has a right to despise,--to hate
+me! I have, by base deceit, chained this young creature to my hateful
+lot! I repent it bitterly. What, then, should I do for her? Free her
+from the hateful ties which my selfishness has riveted upon her. My
+death alone can break those rivets; and I must, therefore, die by my own
+hand!"
+
+This was why M. d'Harville had accomplished this great,--this terrible
+sacrifice.
+
+The inexorable immutability of the law sometimes makes certain terrible
+positions irremediable, and, as in this case (as divorce was
+unattainable), only allows the injury to be effaced by an additional
+crime.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ST. LAZARE.
+
+
+The prison of St. Lazare, especially devoted to female thieves and
+prostitutes, is daily visited by many ladies, whose charity, whose
+names, and whose social position command universal respect. These
+ladies, educated in the midst of the splendours of fortune,--these
+ladies, properly belonging to the best society,--come every week to pass
+long hours with the miserable prisoners of St. Lazare; watching in these
+degraded souls for the least indication of an aspiration towards good,
+the least regret for a past criminal life, and encouraging the good
+tendencies, urging repentance, and, by the potent magic of the words,
+Duty, Honour, Virtue, withdrawing from time to time one of these
+abandoned, fallen, degraded, despised creatures, from the depths of
+utter pollution.
+
+Accustomed to delicacy and the most polished breeding of the highest
+circles, these courageous females quit their homes, after having pressed
+their lips on the virgin foreheads of their daughters, pure as the
+angels of heaven, and go into dark prisons to brave the coarse
+indifference or infamous language of these thieves and lost women.
+
+Faithful to their tasks of high morality, they boldly plunge into the
+tainted soil, place their hands on those gangrened hearts, and, if any
+feeble pulsation of honour reveals to them a slight hope of recovery,
+they contend for and snatch from irrevocable perdition the wretched soul
+of which they have never despaired.
+
+Having said so much by way of introduction to the new scenes to which we
+are about to direct attention, we will introduce the reader to St.
+Lazare, an immense edifice of imposing and repulsive aspect, situated in
+the Faubourg St. Denis.
+
+Ignorant of the shocking drama that was passing at her own house, Madame
+d'Harville had gone to the prison, after having received certain
+information from Madame de Lucenay as to the two unhappy females whom
+the cupidity of Jacques Ferrand had plunged into misery. Madame de
+Blinval, one of the patronesses of the charity of the young prisoners,
+being on this day unable to accompany Clémence to St. Lazare, she had
+gone thither alone. She was received with great attention by the
+governor and the several female superintendents, who were distinguished
+by their black garments and the blue riband with the silver medal which
+they wore around their necks. One of these superintendents, a female of
+mature age, with a serious but kind expression of countenance, remained
+alone with Madame d'Harville, in a small room attached to the registry
+office.
+
+We may easily suppose that there is often unrecognised devotion,
+understanding, commiseration, and sagacity amongst the respectable
+females who devote themselves to the humble and obscure function of
+superintendent of the prisoners. Nothing can be more excellent, more
+practical, than the notions of order, work, and duty which they
+endeavour to instil into the prisoners, in the hope that these
+instructions may survive their term of imprisonment. In turns indulgent
+and firm, patient and severe, but always just and impartial, these
+females, incessantly in contact with the prisoners, end, after the
+lengthened experience of years, by acquiring such a knowledge of the
+physiognomy of these unfortunates that they can judge of them almost
+invariably from the first glance, and can at once classify them
+according to their degree of immorality.
+
+Madame Armand, the inspectress who remained with Madame d'Harville,
+possessed in a remarkable degree this almost supernatural prescience as
+to the character of the prisoners; her words and decisions had very
+great weight in the establishment.
+
+Madame Armand said to Clémence:
+
+"Since madame wishes me to point out to her such of our prisoners as
+have by good conduct, or sincere repentance, deserved that an interest
+should be taken in them, I believe I can mention to her a poor girl whom
+I believe to be more unfortunate than culpable; for I am not deceived
+when I say that it is not too late to save this young girl, an unhappy
+creature of not more than sixteen or seventeen years of age."
+
+"And for what is she imprisoned?"
+
+"She is guilty of being found in the Champs Elysées in the evening. As
+it is prohibited to such females, under very severe penalties, to
+frequent, by day or night, certain public places, and as the Champs
+Elysées are in the number of the forbidden promenades, she was
+apprehended."
+
+"And does she appear to you interesting?"
+
+"I never saw features more regular, more ingenuous. Picture to yourself,
+my lady, the face of a Virgin; and what adds still more to the
+expression of modesty in her countenance is that, on coming here, she
+was dressed like a peasant girl of the environs of Paris."
+
+"She is, then, a country girl?"
+
+"No, my lady; the inspectors knew her again. She had lived for some
+weeks in a horrible abode in the Cité, from which she has been absent
+for two or three months; but, as she had not demanded the erasure of her
+name from the police registries, she comes under the power of that body,
+which has sent her hither."
+
+"But, perhaps, she had quitted Paris to try and reinstate herself?"
+
+"I think so, madame; and it is therefore I have taken such an interest
+in her. I have questioned her as to her past life, inquired if she came
+from the country, and told her to hope, as I did myself, that she might
+still return to a course of good life."
+
+"And what reply did she make?"
+
+"Lifting her full and melancholy blue eyes on me, filled with tears, she
+said, with angelic sweetness, 'I thank you, madame, for your kindness;
+but I cannot say one word as to the past; I was apprehended,--I was
+doing wrong, and I do not therefore complain.' 'But where do you come
+from? Where have you been since you quitted the Cité? If you went into
+the country to seek an honest livelihood, say so, and prove it. We will
+write to the prefect to obtain your liberty, your name will be scratched
+off the police register, and you will be encouraged in your good
+resolutions.' 'I beseech you, madame, do not ask me; I cannot answer
+you,' she replied. 'But, on leaving this house, would you return again
+to that place of infamy?' 'Oh, never!' she exclaimed. 'What, then, will
+you do?' 'God only knows!' she replied, letting her head fall on her
+bosom."
+
+"Very singular! And she expresses herself--"
+
+"In very excellent terms, madame; her deportment is timid and
+respectful, but without servility; nay, more, in spite of the extreme
+gentleness of her voice and look, there is in her accent and her
+attitude a sort of proud sorrow which puzzles me. If she did not belong
+to that wretched class of which she forms one, I should say that her
+haughtiness announces a soul which has a consciousness of dignity."
+
+"But this is all a romance!" exclaimed Clémence, deeply interested, and
+finding, as Rodolph had told her, that nothing was more interesting than
+to do good. "And how does she behave with the other prisoners? If she
+is endowed with that dignity of soul that you imagine, she must suffer
+excessively in the midst of her wretched associates."
+
+"Madame, for me, who observe all from my position, and from habit, all
+about this young girl is a subject of astonishment. Although she has
+been here only three days, yet she already possesses a sort of influence
+over the other prisoners."
+
+"In so short a time?"
+
+"They feel for her not only interest, but almost respect."
+
+"What! these unhappy women--"
+
+"Have sometimes the instinct of a remarkable delicacy in recognising and
+detecting noble qualities in others; only, they frequently hate those
+persons whose superiority they are compelled to admit."
+
+"But do they hate this poor girl?"
+
+"Far from it, my lady; none of them knew her before she came here. They
+were at first struck with her appearance. Her features, although of
+singular beauty, are, if I may so express myself, covered with a
+touching and sickly paleness; and this melancholy and gentle countenance
+at first inspired them with more interest than jealousy. Then she is
+very silent, another source of surprise for these creatures, who, for
+the most part, always endeavour to banish thought by making a noise,
+talking, and moving about. In fact, although reserved and retiring, she
+showed herself compassionate, which prevented her companions from taking
+offence at her coldness of manner. This is not all: about a month since,
+an intractable creature, nicknamed La Louve (the she-wolf), such is her
+violent and brutal character, became a resident here. She is a woman of
+twenty years of age, tall, masculine, with good-looking but strongly
+marked features, and we are sometimes compelled to place her in the
+black-hole to subdue her violence. The day before yesterday, only, she
+came out of the cell, still irritated at the punishment she had
+undergone; it was meal-time, the poor girl of whom I speak could not
+eat, and said, sorrowfully, to her companions, 'Who will have my bread?'
+'I will!' said La Louve. 'I will!' then said a creature almost deformed,
+called Mont Saint-Jean, who is the laughing-stock and, sometimes in
+spite of us, the butt of the other prisoners, although several months
+advanced in pregnancy. The young girl gave her bread to this latter, to
+the extreme anger of La Louve. 'It was I who asked you for the allowance
+first!' she exclaimed, furiously. 'That is true; but this poor woman is
+about to become a mother, and wants it more than you do,' replied the
+young girl. La Louve, notwithstanding, snatched the bread from the hands
+of Mont Saint-Jean, and began to wave her knife about, and to vociferate
+loudly. As she is very evil-disposed and much feared, no one dared take
+the part of the poor Goualeuse, although all the prisoners silently
+sided with her."
+
+"What do you call her name, madame?"
+
+"La Goualeuse; it is the name, or rather the nickname, under which they
+brought her here who is my protégée, and will, I hope, my lady, soon be
+yours. Almost all of them have borrowed names."
+
+"This is a very singular one."
+
+"It signifies in their horrid jargon 'the singer,' for the young girl
+has, they told me, a very delightful voice; and I believe it, for her
+speaking tones are sweetness itself."
+
+"But how did she escape from this wretch, La Louve?"
+
+"Rendered still more furious by the composure of La Goualeuse, she
+rushed towards her, uttering menaces, and with her uplifted knife in her
+hand. All the prisoners cried out with fear; La Goualeuse alone, looking
+at this fierce creature without alarm, smiled at her bitterly and said,
+in her sweet voice, 'Oh, kill me! Kill me! I am willing to die. But do
+not make me suffer too great pain!' These words, they told me, were
+uttered with a simplicity so affecting, that almost all the prisoners
+burst into tears."
+
+"I can imagine so," said Madame d'Harville, deeply moved.
+
+"The worst characters," continued the inspectress, "have, fortunately,
+occasional good feelings. When she heard these words, bearing the stamp
+of such painful resignation, La Louve, touched (as she afterwards
+declared) to her inmost core, threw her knife on the ground, fell at her
+feet and exclaimed, 'It was wrong--shameful to threaten you, Goualeuse,
+for I am stronger than you! You are not afraid of my knife; you are
+bold--brave! I like brave people; and now, from this day forth, if any
+dare to molest you, let them beware, for I will defend you.'"
+
+"What a singular being!"
+
+"This incident strengthened La Goualeuse's influence still more and
+more. A thing almost unexampled here, none of the prisoners accost her
+familiarly. The majority are respectful to her, and even proffer to do
+for her all the little services that prisoners can render to one
+another. I spoke to some of the women of her dormitory, to learn the
+reason of this deference which was evinced towards her. 'It is hardly
+explicable to ourselves,' they replied; 'but it is easy to perceive she
+is not one of us.' 'But who told you so?' 'No one told us; it is easy to
+discover it.' 'By what?' 'By a thousand things. In the first place,
+before she goes to bed, she goes down on her knees and says her prayers;
+and if she pray, as La Louve says, why, she must have a right to do
+so.'"
+
+"What a strange observation!"
+
+"These unhappy creatures have no religious feeling, and still they never
+utter here an impious or irreligious word. You will see, madame, in all
+our rooms small altars, where the statue of the Virgin is surrounded
+with offerings and ornaments which they have made. Every Sunday they
+burn a quantity of wax candles before them in _ex-voto_. Those who
+attend the chapel behave remarkably well; but generally the very sight
+of holy places frightens them. To return to La Goualeuse; her companions
+said to me, 'We see that she is not one of us, by her gentle ways, her
+sadness, and the manner in which she talks.' 'And then,' added La Louve
+(who was present at this conversation), abruptly, 'it is quite certain
+that she is not one of us, for this morning, in the dormitory, without
+knowing why, we were all ashamed of dressing ourselves before her.'"
+
+"What remarkable delicacy in the midst of so much degradation!"
+exclaimed Madame d'Harville.
+
+"Yes, madame, in the presence of men, and amongst themselves, modesty is
+unknown to them, and yet they are painfully confused at being seen half
+dressed by us or the charitable visitors who come, like your ladyship,
+to the prison. Thus the profound instinct of modesty, which God has
+implanted in us, reveals itself even in these fallen creatures, at the
+sight of those persons whom they can respect."
+
+"It is at least consolatory to find some good and natural feelings,
+which are stronger even than depravity."
+
+"Assuredly it is; and these women are capable of devoted attachments
+which, were they worthily placed, would be most honourable. There is
+also another sacred feeling with them, who respect nothing, fear
+nothing, and that is maternity. They honour it, rejoice at it; and they
+are admirable mothers, considering nothing a sacrifice to keep their
+children near them. They will undergo any trouble, difficulty, or danger
+that they may bring them up; for, as they say, these little beings are
+the only ones who do not despise them."
+
+"Have they, then, so deep a sense of their abject condition?"
+
+"They are not half so much despised by others as they despise
+themselves. With those who sincerely repent, the original blot of sin is
+ineffaceable in their own eyes, even if they should find themselves in a
+better position; others go mad, so irremediably is this idea imprinted
+in their minds; and I should not be surprised, madame, if the heartfelt
+grief of La Goualeuse is attributable to something of this nature."
+
+"If so, how she must suffer!--a remorse which nothing can soothe!"
+
+"Fortunately, madame, this remorse is more frequent than is commonly
+believed. The avenging conscience is never completely lulled to sleep;
+or, rather, strange as it may appear, sometimes it would seem that the
+soul is awake whilst the body is in a stupor; and this remark I again
+made last night in reference to my protégée."
+
+"What! La Goualeuse?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Frequently, when the prisoners are asleep, I walk through the
+dormitories. You would scarcely believe, my lady, how the countenances
+of these women differ in expression whilst they are slumbering. A good
+number of them, whom I have seen during the day, saucy, careless, bold,
+insolent, have appeared entirely changed when sleep has removed from
+their features all exaggeration of bravado; for, alas, vice has its
+pride! Oh, madame, what sad revelations on those dejected, mournful, and
+gloomy faces! What painful sighs, involuntarily elicited by some dream.
+I was speaking to your ladyship just now of the girl they call La
+Louve,--an untamed, untamable creature. It is but a fortnight since that
+she abused me in the vilest terms before all the prisoners. I shrugged
+up my shoulders, and my indifference whetted her rage. Then, in order to
+offend me more sorely, she began to say all sorts of disgraceful things
+of my mother, whom she had often seen come here to visit me."
+
+"What a shameful creature!"
+
+"I confess that, although this attack was not worth minding, yet it made
+me feel uncomfortable. La Louve perceived this, and rejoiced in it. The
+same night, about midnight, I went to inspect the dormitories; I went to
+La Louve's bedside (she was not to be put in the dark cell until next
+day) and I was struck with her calmness,--I might say the sweetness of
+her countenance,--compared with the harsh and daring expression which is
+habitual to it. Her features seemed suppliant, filled with regret and
+contrition; her lips were half open, her breast seemed oppressed,
+and--what appeared to me incredible, for I thought it impossible--two
+tears, two large tears, were in the eyes of this woman, whose
+disposition was of iron! I looked at her in silence for several minutes,
+when I heard her say, 'Pardon! Pardon! Her mother!' I listened more
+attentively, but all I could catch, in the midst of a murmur scarcely
+intelligible, was my name, 'Madame Armand,' uttered with a sigh."
+
+"She repented, during her sleep, of having uttered this bad language
+about your mother."
+
+"So I believe; and that made me less severe. No doubt she desired,
+through a miserable vanity, to increase her natural insolence in her
+companions' eyes, whilst, perhaps, a good instinct made her repent in
+her sleep."
+
+"And did she evince any repentance for her bad behaviour next day?"
+
+"Not the slightest, but conducted herself as usual, and was coarse,
+rude, and obstinate; but I assure your ladyship that nothing disposes us
+more to pity than the observations I have mentioned to you. I am
+persuaded (I may deceive myself, perhaps) that, during their sleep,
+these unfortunates become better, or rather return to themselves, with
+all their faults, it is true, but also with certain good instincts, no
+longer masked by the detestable assumption of vice. From all I have
+observed, I am led to believe that these creatures are generally less
+wicked than they affect to be; and, acting upon this conviction, I have
+often attained results it would have been impossible to realise, if I
+had entirely despaired of them."
+
+Madame d'Harville could not conceal her surprise at so much good sense,
+and so much just reasoning, joined to sentiments of humanity so noble
+and so practical, in an obscure inspectress of degraded women.
+
+"But my dear madame," observed Clémence, "you must have a great deal of
+courage, and much strength of mind, not to be repulsed by the
+ungratefulness of the task, which must so very seldom reward you by
+satisfactory results!"
+
+"The consciousness of fulfilling a duty sustains and encourages, and
+sometimes we are recompensed by happy discoveries; now and then we find
+some rays of light in hearts which have hitherto been supposed to be in
+utter darkness."
+
+"Yet, madame, persons like you are very rarely met with?"
+
+"No, I assure your ladyship, others do as I do, with more success and
+intelligence than I have. One of the inspectresses of the other division
+of St. Lazare, which is occupied by females charged with different
+crimes, would interest you much more. She told me this morning of the
+arrival of a young girl accused of infanticide. I never heard anything
+more distressing. The father of the unhappy girl, a hard-working, honest
+lapidary, has gone mad with grief on hearing his daughter's shame. It
+seems that nothing could be more frightful than the destitution of all
+this family, who lived in a wretched garret in the Rue du Temple."
+
+"The Rue du Temple!" exclaimed Madame d'Harville, much astonished; "what
+is the workman's name?"
+
+"His daughter's name is Louise Morel."
+
+"'Tis as I thought, then!"
+
+"She was in the service of a respectable lawyer named M. Jacques
+Ferrand."
+
+"This poor family has been recommended to me," said Clémence, blushing;
+"but I was far from expecting to see it bowed down by this fresh and
+terrible blow. And Louise Morel--"
+
+"Declares her innocence, and affirms her child was born dead; and it
+seems as if hers were accents of truth. Since your ladyship takes an
+interest in this family, if you would be so good as to see the poor
+girl, perhaps this mark of your kindness might soothe her despair, which
+they tell me is really alarming."
+
+"Certainly I will see her; then I shall have two protégées instead of
+one, Louise Morel and La Goualeuse, for all you tell me relative to this
+poor girl interests me excessively. But what must be done to obtain her
+liberty? I will then find a situation for her. I will take care of her
+in future."
+
+"With your connections, madame, it will be very easy for you to obtain
+her liberty the day after to-morrow, for it is at the discretion of the
+Prefect of Police, and the application of a person of consequence would
+be decisive with him. But I have wandered from the observation which I
+made on the slumber of La Goualeuse; and, with reference to this, I must
+confess that I should not be astonished if, to the deeply painful
+feeling of her first error, there is added some other grief no less
+severe."
+
+"What mean you, madame?"
+
+"Perhaps I am deceived; but I should not be astonished if this young
+girl, rescued by some circumstance from the degradation in which she was
+first plunged, has now some honest love, which is at the same time her
+happiness and her torment."
+
+"What are your reasons for believing this?"
+
+"The determined silence which she keeps as to where she has passed the
+three months which followed her departure from the Cité makes me think
+that she fears being discovered by the persons with whom she in all
+probability found a shelter."
+
+"Why should she fear this?"
+
+"Because then she would have to own to a previous life, of which they
+are no doubt ignorant."
+
+"True; her peasant's dress."
+
+"And then a subsequent circumstance has confirmed my suspicions.
+Yesterday evening, when I was walking my round of inspection in the
+dormitory, I went up to La Goualeuse's bed. She was in a deep sleep,
+and, unlike her companions, her features were calm and tranquil. Her
+long, light hair, half disengaged from their bands, fell in profusion
+down her neck and shoulders. Her two small hands were clasped, and
+crossed over her bosom, as if she had gone to sleep whilst praying. I
+looked for some moments with interest at her lovely face, when, in a low
+voice, and with an accent at once respectful, sad, and impassioned, she
+uttered a name."
+
+"And that name?"
+
+After a moment's silence, Madame Armand replied, gravely:
+
+"Although I consider that anything learnt during sleep is sacred, yet
+you interest yourself so generously in this unfortunate girl, madame,
+that I will confide this name to your secrecy. It was Rodolph."
+
+"Rodolph!" exclaimed Madame d'Harville, thinking of the prince. Then,
+reflecting that, after all, his highness the Grand Duke of Gerolstein
+could have no connection with the Rodolph of the poor Goualeuse, she
+said to the inspectress, who seemed astonished at her exclamation:
+
+"The name has surprised me, madame, for, by a singular chance, it is
+that of a relation of mine; but what you tell me of La Goualeuse
+interests me more and more. Can I see her to-day? now--directly?"
+
+"Yes, madame, I will go, as you wish it, and ask her; I can also learn
+more of Louise Morel, who is in the other side of the prison."
+
+"I shall, indeed, be greatly obliged to you, madame," replied Madame
+d'Harville, who the next moment was alone.
+
+"How strange!" she said. "I cannot account for the singular impression
+which this name of Rodolph makes upon me! I am really quite insane! What
+connection can there be between him and such a creature?" Then, after a
+moment's silence, the marchioness added, "He was right; how all this
+does interest me! The mind, the heart, expand when they are occupied so
+nobly! 'Tis as he said; we seem to participate somewhat in the power of
+Providence when we aid those who deserve it; and, then, these excursions
+into a world of which we had no idea are so attractive,--so amusing, as
+he said so pleasantly! What romance could give me such deep feelings,
+excite my curiosity to such a pitch? This poor Goualeuse, for instance,
+has inspired me with deep pity, after all I have heard of her; and I
+will blindly follow up this commiseration, for the inspectress has too
+much experience to be deceived with respect to our protégée. And the
+other unhappy girl,--the artisan's daughter, whom the prince has so
+generously succoured in my name! Poor people! their bitter suffering has
+served as a pretext to save me. I have escaped shame, perhaps death, by
+a hypocritical falsehood. This deceit weighs on my mind, but I will
+expiate my fault by my charity, though that may be too easy a mode. It
+is so sweet to follow Rodolph's noble advice! It is to love as well as
+to obey him. Oh, I feel it with rapture! His breath, alone, animates and
+fertilises the new existence which he has given me in directing me to
+console those who suffer. I experience an unalloyed delight in acting
+but as he directs, in having no ideas but his; for I love him,--ah, yes,
+I love him! And yet he shall always be in ignorance of this, the
+lasting passion of my life."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Whilst Madame d'Harville is waiting for La Goualeuse, we will conduct
+the reader into the presence of the prisoners.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+MONT SAINT-JEAN.
+
+
+It was just two o'clock by the dial of the prison of St. Lazare. The
+cold, which had lasted for several days, had been succeeded by soft,
+mild, and almost spring weather; the rays of the sun were reflected in
+the water of the large square basin, with its stone corners, formed in
+the centre of a courtyard planted with trees, and surrounded by dark,
+high walls pierced with a great many iron-barred windows. Wooden benches
+were fastened here and there in this large paved enclosure, which served
+for the walking-place of the prisoners. The ringing of a bell announcing
+the hour of recreation, the prisoners came in throngs by a thick
+wicket-door which was opened to them. These women, all clad alike, wore
+black skull-caps and long loose gowns of blue woollen cloth, fastened
+around the waist by a band and iron buckle. There were there two hundred
+prostitutes, sentenced for breach of the particular laws which control
+them and place them out of the pale of the common law. At first sight
+their appearance had nothing striking, but, after regarding them with
+further attention, there might be detected in each face the almost
+ineffaceable stigmas of vice, and particularly that brutishness which
+ignorance and misery invariably engender. Whilst contemplating these
+masses of lost creatures, we cannot help recollecting with sorrow that
+most of them have been pure and honest, at least at some former period.
+We say "most of them," because there are some who have been corrupted,
+vitiated, depraved, not only from their youth, but from tenderest
+infancy,--even from their very birth, if we may say so; and we shall
+prove it as we proceed.
+
+We ask ourselves, then, with painful curiosity, what chain of fatal
+causes could thus debase these unhappy creatures, who have known shame
+and chastity? There are so many declivities, alas, which verge to that
+fall! It is rarely the passion of the depraved for depravity; but
+dissipation, bad example, perverse education, and, above all, want,
+which lead so many unfortunates to infamy; and it is the poor classes
+alone who pay to civilisation this impost on soul and body.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the prisoners came into the yard, running and crying out, it was
+easy to discern that it was not alone the pleasure of leaving their work
+that made them so noisy. After having hurried forth by the only gate
+which led to this yard, the crowd spread out and made a ring around a
+misshapen being, whom they assailed with shouts. She was a small woman,
+from thirty-six to forty years of age; short, round-shouldered,
+deformed, and with her neck buried between shoulders of unequal height.
+They had snatched off her black cap, and her hair, which was flaxen, or
+rather a pale yellow, coarse, matted, and mingled with gray, fell over
+her low and stupid features. She was clad in a blue loose gown, like the
+other prisoners, and had under her right arm a small bundle, wrapped up
+in a miserable, ragged, checked pocket-handkerchief. With her left elbow
+she endeavoured to ward off the blows aimed at her. Nothing could be
+more lamentably ludicrous than the visage of this unhappy woman. She was
+hideous and distorted in figure, with projecting features, wrinkled,
+tanned, and dirty, which were pierced with two holes for nostrils, and
+two small, red, bloodshot eyes. By turns wrathful and imploring, she
+scolded and entreated; but they laughed even more at her complaints than
+her threats. This woman was the plaything of the prisoners. One thing
+ought, however, to have protected her from such ill-usage,--she was
+evidently about to become a mother; but her ugliness, her imbecility,
+and the custom they had of considering her as a victim intended for
+common sport, rendered her persecutors implacable, in spite of their
+usual respect for maternity.
+
+Amongst the fiercest enemies of Mont Saint-Jean (that was the unhappy
+wretch's name), La Louve was conspicuous. La Louve was a strapping girl
+of twenty, active, and powerfully grown, with regular features. Her
+coarse black hair was varied by reddish shades, whilst her blood
+suffused her skin with its hue; a brown down shaded her thin lips; her
+chestnut eyebrows, thick and projecting, were united over her large and
+fierce eyes. There was something violent, savage, and brutal in the
+expression of this woman's physiognomy,--a sort of habitual sneer, which
+curled her upper lip during a fit of rage, and, exposing her white and
+wide-apart teeth, accounted for her name of La Louve (the she-wolf). Yet
+in that countenance there was more of boldness and insolence than
+cruelty; and, in a word, it was seen that, rather become vicious than
+born so, this woman was still susceptible of certain good impulses, as
+the inspectress had told Madame d'Harville.
+
+"Alas! alas! What have I done?" exclaimed Mont Saint-Jean, struggling in
+the midst of her companions. "Why are you so cruel to me?"
+
+"Because it is so amusing."
+
+"Because you are only fit to be teased."
+
+"It is your business."
+
+"Look at yourself, and you will see that you have no right to complain."
+
+"But you know well enough that I don't complain as long as I can help
+it; I bear it as long as I can."
+
+"Well, we'll let you alone, if you will tell us why you call yourself
+Mont Saint-Jean."
+
+"Yes, yes; come, tell us all that directly."
+
+"Why, I've told you a hundred times. It was an old soldier that I loved
+a long while ago, and who was called so because he was wounded at the
+battle of Mont Saint-Jean; so I took his name. That's it; now are you
+satisfied? You will make me repeat the same thing over, and over, and
+over!"
+
+"If your soldier was like you, he was a beauty!"
+
+"I suppose he was in the Invalids?"
+
+"The remains of a man--"
+
+"How many glass eyes had he?"
+
+"And wasn't his nose of block tin?"
+
+"He must have been short of two arms and two legs, besides being deaf
+and blind, if he took up with you."
+
+"I am ugly,--a monster, I know that as well as you can tell me. Say what
+you like,--make game of me, if you choose, it's all one to me; only
+don't beat me, that's all, I beg!"
+
+"What have you got in that old handkerchief?" asked La Louve.
+
+"Yes, yes! What is it?"
+
+"Show it up directly!"
+
+"Let's see! Let's see!"
+
+"Oh, no, I beg!" exclaimed the miserable creature, squeezing up the
+little bundle in her hands with all her might.
+
+"What! Must we take it from you?"
+
+"Yes, snatch it from her, La Louve!"
+
+"Oh, you won't be so wicked? Let it go! Let it go, I say!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Why, it's the beginning of my baby linen; I make it with the old bits
+of linen which no one wants, and I pick up. It's nothing to you, is it?"
+
+"Oh, the baby linen of Mont Saint-Jean's little one! That must be a rum
+set out!"
+
+"Let's look at it."
+
+"The baby clothes! The baby clothes!"
+
+"She has taken measure of the keeper's little dog, no doubt."
+
+"Here's your baby clothes," cried La Louve, snatching the bundle from
+Mont Saint-Jean's grasp.
+
+The handkerchief, already torn, was now rent to tatters, and a quantity
+of fragments of stuff of all colours, and old pieces of linen half cut
+out, flew around the yard, and were trampled under feet by the
+prisoners, who holloaed and laughed louder than before.
+
+"Here's your rags!"
+
+"Why, it is a ragpicker's bag."
+
+"Patterns from the ragman's."
+
+"What a shop!"
+
+"And to sew all that rubbish!"
+
+"Why, there's more thread than stuff."
+
+"What nice embroidery!"
+
+"Here, pick up your rags and tatters, Mont Saint-Jean."
+
+"Oh, how wicked! Oh, how cruel!" exclaimed the poor ill-used creature,
+running in every direction after the pieces, which she endeavoured to
+pick up in spite of pushes and blows. "I never did anybody any harm,"
+she added, weeping. "I have offered, if they would let me alone, to do
+anything I could for anybody, to give them half my allowance, although I
+am always so hungry; but, no! no! it's always so. What can I do to be
+left in peace? They haven't even pity of a poor woman in the family way.
+They are more cruel than the beasts. Oh, the trouble I had to collect
+these little bits of linen! How else can I make the clothes for my baby,
+for I have no money to buy them with? What harm was there in picking up
+what nobody else wanted when it was thrown away?" Then Mont Saint-Jean
+exclaimed suddenly, with a ray of hope, "Oh, there you are, Goualeuse!
+Now, then, I'm safe; do speak to them for me; they will listen to you, I
+am sure, for they love you as much as they hate me."
+
+La Goualeuse was the last of the prisoners who entered the enclosure.
+
+Fleur-de-Marie wore the blue woollen gown and black skull-cap of the
+prisoners; but even in this coarse costume she was still charming. Yet,
+since her carrying off from the farm of Bouqueval (the consequences of
+which circumstance we will explain hereafter), her features seemed
+greatly altered; her pale cheeks, formerly tinged with a slight colour,
+were as wan as the whiteness of alabaster; the expression, too, of her
+countenance had changed, and was now imprinted with a kind of dignified
+grief. Fleur-de-Marie felt that to bear courageously the painful
+sacrifices of expiation is almost to attain restored position.
+
+"Ask a favour for me, Goualeuse," said poor Mont Saint-Jean,
+beseechingly, to the young girl; "see how they are flinging about the
+yard all I had collected, with so much trouble, to begin my baby linen
+for my child. What good can it do them?"
+
+Fleur-de-Marie did not say a word, but began very actively to pick up,
+one by one, from under the women's feet, all the rags she could collect.
+One prisoner ill-temperedly kept her foot on a sort of little bed-gown
+of coarse woollen cloth. Fleur-de-Marie, still stooping, looked up at
+the woman, and said to her in a sweet tone:
+
+"I beg of you let me pick it up. I ask it in the name of this poor woman
+who is weeping."
+
+The prisoner removed her foot. The bed-gown was rescued, as well as most
+of the other scraps, which La Goualeuse acquired piece by piece. There
+remained to obtain a small child's cap, which two prisoners were
+struggling for, and laughing at. Fleur-de-Marie said to them:
+
+"Be all good, pray do. Let me have the little cap."
+
+"Oh, to be sure! It's for a harlequin in swaddling-clothes this cap is!
+It is made of a bit of gray stuff, with points of green and black
+fustian, and lined with a bit of an old mattress cover."
+
+The description was exact, and was hailed with loud and long-continued
+shoutings.
+
+"Laugh away, but let me have it," said Mont Saint-Jean; "and pray do not
+drag it in the mud as you have some of the other things. I'm sorry
+you've made your hands so dirty for me, Goualeuse," she added, in a
+grateful tone.
+
+"Let me have the harlequin's cap," said La Louve, who obtained
+possession of it, and waved it in the air as a trophy.
+
+"Give it to me, I entreat you," said Goualeuse.
+
+"No! You want to give it back to Mont Saint-Jean."
+
+"Certainly I do."
+
+"Oh, it is not worth while, it is such a rag."
+
+"Mont Saint-Jean has nothing but rags to dress her child in, and you
+ought to have pity upon her, La Louve," said Fleur-de-Marie, in a
+mournful voice, and stretching out her hand towards the cap.
+
+"You sha'n't have it!" answered La Louve, in a brutal tone; "must
+everybody always give way to you because you are the weakest? You come,
+I see, to abuse the kindness that is shown to you."
+
+"But," said La Goualeuse, with a smile full of sweetness, "where would
+be the merit of giving up to me, if I were the stronger of the two?"
+
+"No, no; you want to wheedle me over with your smooth, canting words;
+but it won't do,--you sha'n't have it, I tell you."
+
+"Come, come, now, La Louve, do not be ill-natured."
+
+"Let me alone! You tire me to death!"
+
+"Oh, pray do!"
+
+"I will not!"
+
+"Yes, do,--let me beg of you!"
+
+"Now, don't put me in a passion," exclaimed La Louve, thoroughly
+irritated. "I have said no, and I mean no."
+
+"Take pity on the poor thing, see how she is crying!"
+
+"What is that to me? So much the worse for her; she is our pain-bearer"
+(_souffre douleur_).
+
+"So she is," murmured out a number of the prisoners, instigated by the
+example of La Louve. "No, no, she ought not to have her rags back! So
+much the worse for Mont Saint-Jean."
+
+"You are right," said Fleur-de-Marie, with bitterness; "it is so much
+the worse for her; she is your pain-bearer, she ought to submit herself
+to your pleasure,--her tears and sighs amuse and divert you!--and you
+must have some way of passing your time. Were you to kill her on the
+spot, she would have no right to say anything. You speak truly, La
+Louve, this is just and fair, is it not? Here is a poor, weak,
+defenceless woman; alone in the midst of so many, she is quite unable to
+defend herself, yet you all combine against her! Certainly your
+behaviour towards her is most just and generous!"
+
+"And I suppose you mean to say we are all a parcel of cowards?" retorted
+La Louve, carried away by the violence of her disposition and extreme
+impatience at anything like contradiction. "Answer me, do you call us
+cowards, eh? Speak out, and let us know your meaning," continued she,
+growing more and more incensed.
+
+A murmur of displeasure against La Goualeuse, not unmixed with threats,
+arose from the assembled crowd. The offended prisoners thronged around
+her, vociferating their disapprobation, forgetting, or remembering but
+as a fresh cause of offence, the ascendency she had until the present
+moment exercised over them.
+
+"She calls us cowards, you see!"
+
+"What business has she to find fault with us?"
+
+"Is she better than we are, I should like to know?"
+
+"Ah, we have all been too kind to her!"
+
+"And now she wants to give herself fine lady airs, and to domineer over
+us! If we choose to torment Mont Saint-Jean, what need has she to
+interfere?"
+
+"Since it has come to this, I tell you what, Mont Saint-Jean, you shall
+fare the worse for it for the future."
+
+"Take this to begin with!" said one of the most violent of the party,
+giving her a blow.
+
+"And if you meddle again with what does not concern you, La Goualeuse,
+we will serve you the same."
+
+"Yes, that we will."
+
+"But that is not all!" said La Louve. "La Goualeuse must ask our pardon
+for having called us cowards. She must and she shall! If we don't put a
+stop to her goings on, she will soon leave us without the power of
+saying our soul is our own, and we are great fools not to have seen this
+sooner."
+
+"Make her ask our pardon."
+
+"On her knee."
+
+"On both knees."
+
+"Or we will serve her precisely the same as we did her protégée, Mont
+Saint-Jean!"
+
+"Down on her knees! Down with her!"
+
+"Lo! we are cowards, are we?"
+
+"Dare to say it again!"
+
+Fleur-de-Marie allowed this tumult to pass away, ere she replied to the
+many furious voices that were raging around her. Then, casting a mild
+and melancholy glance at the exasperated crowd, she said to La Louve,
+who persisted in vociferating, "Will you dare to call us cowards again?"
+
+"You? Oh, no, not you! I call this poor woman, whom you have so roughly
+treated, whom you have dragged through the mud, and whose clothes you
+have nearly torn off, a coward. Do you not see how she trembles, and
+dares not even look at you? No, no! I say again, 'tis she who is a
+coward, for being thus afraid of you."
+
+Fleur-de-Marie had touched the right chord; in vain might she have
+appealed to their sense of justice and duty, in order to allay their
+bitter irritation against poor Mont Saint-Jean; the stupid or
+brutalised minds of the prisoners would alike have been inaccessible to
+her pleadings; but, by addressing herself to that sentiment of
+generosity, which is never wholly extinct, even in the most depraved
+characters, she kindled a spark of pity, that required but skilful
+management to fan into a flame of commiseration, instead of hatred and
+violence. La Louve, amid their continued murmurings against La Goualeuse
+and her protégée, felt, and confessed, that their conduct had been both
+unwomanly and cowardly.
+
+Fleur-de-Marie would not carry her first triumph too far. She contented
+herself with merely saying:
+
+"Surely, if this poor creature, whom you call yours, to tease, to
+torment, to ill-use,--in fact, your _souffre douleur_,--be not worthy of
+your pity, her infant has done nothing to offend you. Did you forget,
+when striking the mother, that the unborn babe might suffer from your
+blows? And when she besought your mercy, 'twas not for herself, but her
+child. When she craves of you a morsel of bread, if, indeed, you have it
+to spare, 'tis not to satisfy her own hunger she begs it, but that her
+infant may live; and when, with streaming eyes, she implored of you to
+spare the few rags she had with so much difficulty collected together,
+it arose from a mother's love for that unseen treasure her heart so
+loves and prizes. This poor little patchwork cap, and the pieces of old
+mattresses she has so awkwardly sewed together, no doubt appear to you
+fit objects of mirth; but, for my own part, I feel far more inclined to
+cry than to laugh at seeing the poor creature's instinctive attempts to
+provide for her babe. So, if you laugh at Mont Saint-Jean, let me come
+in for my share of your ridicule."
+
+Not the faintest attempt at a smile appeared on any countenance, and La
+Louve continued, with fixed gaze, to contemplate the little cap she
+still held in her hand.
+
+"I know very well," said Fleur-de-Marie, drying her eyes with the back
+of her white and delicate hand,--"I know very well that you are not
+really ill-natured or cruel, and that you merely torment Mont Saint-Jean
+from thoughtlessness. But consider that she and her infant are one. If
+she held it in her arms, not only would you carefully avoid doing it the
+least injury, but I am quite sure, if it were cold, you would even take
+from your own garments to cover it. Would not you, La Louve? Oh, I know
+you would, every one of you!"
+
+"To be sure we would,--every one pities a tender baby."
+
+"That is quite natural."
+
+"And if it cried with hunger, you would take the bread from your own
+mouth to feed it with. Would not you, La Louve?"
+
+"That I would, and willingly, too! I am not more hard-hearted than other
+people!"
+
+"Nor more are we!"
+
+"A poor, helpless, little creature!"
+
+"Who could have the heart to think of harming it?"
+
+"They must be downright monsters!"
+
+"Perfect savages!"
+
+"Worse than wild beasts!"
+
+"I told you so," resumed Fleur-de-Marie. "I said you were not
+intentionally unkind; and you have proved that you are good and pitying
+towards Mont Saint-Jean. The fault consisted in your not reflecting
+that, although her child is yet unborn, it is still liable to harm from
+any mischief that befalls its mother. That is all the wrong you have
+done."
+
+"All the wrong we have done!" exclaimed La Louve, much excited. "But I
+say it is not all. You were right, La Goualeuse. We acted like a set of
+cowards; and you alone deserve to be called courageous, because you did
+not fear to tell us so, or shrink from us after you had told us. It is
+nonsense to seek to deny the fact that you are not a creature like
+us,--it is no use trying to persuade ourselves you are like such beings
+as we are, so we may as well give it up. I don't like to own it, but it
+is so; and I may just as well confess it. Just now, when we were all in
+the wrong, you had courage enough, not only to refuse to join us, but to
+tell us of our fault."
+
+"That is true enough; and the fair-faced girl must have had a pretty
+stock of courage to tell us the truth so plainly to our faces."
+
+"But, bless you, these blue-eyed people, who look so soft and gentle, if
+once they are worked up--"
+
+"They become courageous as lions."
+
+"Poor Mont Saint-Jean! She has good reason to be thankful to her!"
+
+"What she says is true enough. We could not injure the mother without
+harming the child also."
+
+"I never thought of that."
+
+"Nor I either."
+
+"But you see La Goualeuse did,--she never forgets anything."
+
+"The idea of hurting an infant! horrible! Is it not?"
+
+"I'm sure there is not one of us would do it for anything that could be
+offered us."
+
+Nothing is more variable than popular passion, or more abrupt than its
+rapid transition from bad to good, and even the reverse. The simple yet
+touching arguments of Fleur-de-Marie had effected a powerful reaction in
+favour of Mont Saint-Jean, who shed tears of deep joy. Every heart
+seemed moved; for, as we have already said, the womanly feelings of the
+prisoners had been awakened, and they now felt a solicitude for the
+unhappy creature in proportion as they had formerly held her in dislike
+and contempt. All at once, La Louve, violent and impetuous in all her
+actions, twisted the little cap she held in her hand into a sort of
+purse, and feeling in her pocket brought out twenty sous, which she
+threw into the purse; then presenting it to her companions, exclaimed:
+
+"Here is my twenty sous towards buying baby clothes for Mont
+Saint-Jean's child. We will cut them out and make them ourselves, in
+order that the work may cost nothing."
+
+"Oh, yes, let us."
+
+"To be sure,--let us all join!"
+
+"I will for one."
+
+"What a capital idea!"
+
+"Poor creature!"
+
+"Though she is so frightfully ugly, yet she has a mother's feelings the
+same as another."
+
+"La Goualeuse was right. It is really enough to make one cry one's eyes
+out, to see what a wretched collection of rags the poor creature has
+scraped together for her baby."
+
+"Well, I'll give thirty sous."
+
+"And I ten."
+
+"I'll give twenty sous."
+
+"I've only got four sous, but I'll give them."
+
+"I have no money at all; but I'll sell my allowance for to-morrow, and
+put whatever any one will give for it into the collection. Who'll buy my
+to-morrow's rations?"
+
+"I will," said La Louve. "So, here I put in ten sous for you; but you
+shall keep your rations. And now, Mont Saint-Jean shall have baby
+clothes fit for a princess."
+
+To express the joy and gratitude of Mont Saint-Jean would be wholly
+impossible. The most intense delight and happiness illumined her
+countenance, and rendered even her usual hideous features interesting.
+Fleur-de-Marie was almost as happy, though compelled to say, when La
+Louve handed to her the collecting-cap:
+
+"I am very sorry I have not a single sou of money, but I will work as
+long as you please at making the clothes."
+
+"Oh, my dear heavenly angel!" cried Mont Saint-Jean, throwing herself on
+her knees before La Goualeuse, and striving to kiss her hand. "What have
+I ever done to merit such goodness on your part, or the charity of these
+kind ladies? Gracious Father! Do I hear aright? Baby things! and all
+nice and comfortable for my child! A real, proper set of baby clothes!
+Everything I can require! Who would ever have thought of such a thing? I
+am sure I never should. I shall lose my senses with joy! Only to think
+that a poor, miserable wretch like myself, the make-game of everybody,
+should all at once, just because you spoke a few soft, sweet words out
+of that heavenly mouth, have such wonderful blessings! See how your
+words have changed those who meant to harm me, but who now pity me and
+are my friends; and I feel as though I could never thank them enough, or
+express my gratitude! Oh, how very, very kind of them! How wrong of me
+to be offended and angry with what they said! How stupid and ungrateful
+I must have been not to perceive that they were only playing with
+me,--that they had no intention of harming me. Oh, no! It was all meant
+for my good. Here is a proof of it. Oh, for the future, if they like to
+knock me about ever so, I will not so much as cry out! Oh, I was too
+impatient when I complained before; but I will make up for it next
+time!"
+
+"Eighty-eight francs seven sous!" said La Louve, finishing her reckoning
+of the collection gathered by handing about the little bonnet. "Who will
+be treasurer till we lay out the money? We must not entrust it to Mont
+Saint-Jean, she is too simple."
+
+"Let La Goualeuse take charge of it!" cried a unanimous burst of voices.
+
+"No," said Fleur-de-Marie; "the best way will be to beg of the
+inspectress, Madame Armand, to take charge of the sum collected, and to
+buy the necessary articles for Mont Saint-Jean's confinement; and
+then,--who knows?--perhaps Madame Armand may take notice of the good
+action you have performed, and report it, so as to be the means of
+shortening the imprisonment of all whose names are mentioned as being
+concerned in it. Tell me, La Louve," added Fleur-de-Marie, taking her
+companion by the arm, "are you not better satisfied with yourself than
+you were just now, when you were throwing about all Mont Saint-Jean's
+poor baby's things?"
+
+La Louve did not immediately reply. To the generous excitement which a
+few moments before animated her features, succeeded a sort of half
+savage air of defiance. Unable to comprehend the cause of this sudden
+change, Fleur-de-Marie looked at her with surprise.
+
+"Come here, La Goualeuse," said La Louve at last, with a gloomy tone; "I
+want to speak to you."
+
+Then abruptly quitting the other prisoners, she led Fleur-de-Marie to a
+reservoir of water, surrounded by a stone coping, which had been
+hollowed out in the midst of an adjoining meadow. Near the water was a
+bench, also of stone, on which La Louve and La Goualeuse placed
+themselves, and were thus, in a manner, beyond the observation or
+hearing of their companions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+LA LOUVE AND LA GOUALEUSE.
+
+
+We firmly believe in the influence of certain master minds so far
+sympathising with the masses, so powerful over them as to impose on them
+the bias of good or evil. Some, bold, enthusiastic, indomitable,
+addressing themselves to the worst passions, will rouse them, as the
+storm raises the foam of the sea; but, like all tempests, these are as
+ephemeral as they are furious; to these terrible effervescences will
+succeed the sullen reversion of sadness and restlessness, which will
+obtain supremacy over the most miserable conditions. The reaction of
+violence is always severe; the waking after an excess is always painful.
+
+La Louve, if you will, personifies this fatal influence.
+
+Other organisations, more rare, because their generous instincts must be
+fertilised by intelligence, and with them the mind is on an equality
+with the heart,--others, we say, will inspire good, as well as some
+inspire evil. Their wholesome influence will gently penetrate into the
+soul, as the warm rays of the sun penetrate the body with invigorating
+heat, as the arid and burning earth imbibes the fresh and grateful dew
+of night.
+
+Fleur-de-Marie, if you will, personifies this benevolent influence.
+
+The reaction to good is not so sudden as the reaction to evil; its
+effects are more protracted. It is something delicious, inexplicable,
+which gradually extends itself, calms and soothes the most hardened
+heart, and gives it the feeling of inexpressible serenity. Unfortunately
+the charm ceases.
+
+After having seen celestial brightness, ill-disposed persons fall back
+into the darkness of their habitual life; the recollections of sweet
+emotions which have for a moment surprised them are gradually effaced.
+Still they sometimes seek vaguely to recall them, even as we try to
+murmur out the songs with which our happy infancy was cradled. Thanks to
+the good action with which she had inspired them, the companions of La
+Goualeuse had tasted of the passing sweetness of these feelings, in
+which even La Louve had participated; but this latter, for reasons we
+shall describe hereafter, remained a shorter time than the other
+prisoners under this benevolent feeling. If we are surprised to hear and
+see Fleur-de-Marie, hitherto so passively, so painfully resigned, act
+and speak with courage and authority, it was because the noble precepts
+she had imbibed during her residence at the farm at Bouqueval had
+rapidly developed the rare qualities of her admirable disposition.
+Fleur-de-Marie understood that it is not sufficient to bewail the
+irreparable past, and that it is only in doing or inspiring good that a
+reinstatement can be hoped for.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We have said that La Louve was sitting on a wooden bench, beside La
+Goualeuse. The close proximity of these two young girls offered a
+singular contrast.
+
+The pale rays of a winter sun were shed over them; the pure sky was
+speckled in places with small, white, and fleecy clouds; some birds,
+enlivened by the warmth of the temperature, were warbling in the black
+branches of the large chestnut-trees in the yard; two or three sparrows,
+more bold than their fellows, came and drank in a small rivulet formed
+by the overflow of the basin; the green moss covered the stones of the
+fountain, and between their joints, here and there, were tufts of grass
+and some small creepers, spared by the frost. This description of a
+prison-basin may seem puerile; but Fleur-de-Marie did not lose one of
+the details, but with her eyes fixed mournfully on the little verdant
+corner, and on this limpid water in which the moving whiteness of the
+clouds over the azure of the heavens was reflected, in which the golden
+rays of a lovely sun broke with beautiful lustre, she thought with a
+sigh of the magnificence of the Nature which she loved, which she
+admired so poetically, and of which she was still deprived.
+
+"What did you wish to say to me?" asked La Goualeuse of her companion,
+who, seated beside her, was gloomy and silent.
+
+"We must have an explanation," said La Louve, sternly; "things cannot go
+on as they are."
+
+"I do not understand you, La Louve."
+
+"Just now, in the yard, referring to Mont Saint-Jean, I said to myself,
+'I won't give way any more to La Goualeuse,' and yet I do give way now."
+
+"But--"
+
+"But I tell you it cannot continue so."
+
+"In what have I offended you, La Louve?"
+
+"Why, I am not the same person I was when you came here; no, I have
+neither courage, strength, nor boldness."
+
+Then suddenly checking herself, La Louve pulled up the sleeve of her
+gown, and showing La Goualeuse her white arm, powerful, and covered with
+black down, she showed her, on the upper part of it, an indelible
+tattooing, representing a blue dagger half plunged in a red heart; over
+this emblem were these words:
+
+         MORT AUX LÂCHES!
+             MARTIAL
+      P. L. V. (_pour la vie_.)
+        (DEATH TO COWARDS!
+             MARTIAL
+            FOR LIFE!)
+
+"Do you see that?" asked La Louve.
+
+"Yes; and it is so shocking, it quite frightens me," said La Goualeuse,
+turning away her head.
+
+"When Martial, my lover, wrote, with a red-hot needle, these words on my
+arm, 'Death to Cowards!' he thought me brave; if he knew my behaviour
+for the last three days, he would stick his knife in my body, as this
+dagger is driven into this heart,--and he would be right, for he wrote
+here, 'Death to Cowards!' and I am a coward."
+
+"What have you done that is cowardly?"
+
+"Everything."
+
+"Do you regret the good resolution you made just now?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I cannot believe you."
+
+"I say I do regret it,--for it is another proof of what you can do with
+all of us. Didn't you understand what Mont Saint-Jean meant when she
+went on her knees to thank you?"
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"She said, speaking of you, that with nothing you turned us from evil to
+good. I could have throttled her when she said it, for, to our shame, it
+was true. Yes, in no time you change us from black to white. We listen
+to you,--give way to our first feelings, and are your dupes, as we were
+just now."
+
+"My dupe! for having generously succoured this poor woman?"
+
+"Oh, it has nothing to do with all that," exclaimed La Louve, with rage.
+"I have never till now stooped my head before a breathing soul. La Louve
+is my name, and I am well named: more than one woman bears my marks, and
+more than one man, too; and it shall never be said that a little chit
+like you can place me beneath her feet."
+
+"Me! and in what way?"
+
+"How do I know! You come here, and first begin by insulting me."
+
+"Insult you?"
+
+"Yes,--you ask who'll have your bread. I first say--_I._ Mont Saint-Jean
+did not ask for it till afterwards, and yet you give her the preference.
+Enraged at that, I rushed at you with my uplifted knife--"
+
+"And I said to you, 'Kill me, if you like, but do not let me linger
+long,' and that is all."
+
+"That is all? Yes, that is all. And yet these words made me drop my
+knife,--made me--ask your pardon,--yes, pardon of you who insulted me.
+Is that natural? Why, when I recovered my senses, I was ashamed of
+myself. The evening you came here, when you were on your knees to say
+your prayers,--why, instead of making game of you, and setting all the
+dormitory on you, did I say, 'Let her alone; she prays, and has a right
+to pray?' Then the next day, why were I and all the others ashamed to
+dress ourselves before you?"
+
+"I do not know, La Louve."
+
+"Indeed!" replied the violent creature, with irony. "You don't know!
+Why, no doubt, it is because, as we have all of us said, jokingly, that
+you are of a different sort from us. You think so, don't you?"
+
+"I have never said that I thought so."
+
+"No, you have not said so; but you behave just as if it were so."
+
+"I beg of you to listen to me."
+
+"No, I have been already too foolish to listen to you--to look at you.
+Till now, I never envied any one. Well, two or three times I have been
+surprised at myself. Am I growing a fool or a coward? I have found
+myself envious of your face, so like the Holy Virgin's; of your gentle
+and mournful look. Yes, I have even been envious of your chestnut hair
+and your blue eyes. I, who detest fair women, because I am dark myself,
+wish to resemble you. I! La Louve! I! Why, it is but eight days since,
+and I would have marked any one who dared but say so. Yet it is not your
+lot that would tempt one, for you are as full of grief as a Magdalene.
+Is it natural, I say, eh?"
+
+"How can I account to you for the impression I make upon you?"
+
+"Oh, you know well enough what you do, though you look as if you were
+too delicate to be touched."
+
+"What bad design can you suppose me capable of?"
+
+"How can I tell? It is because I do not understand anything of all this
+that I mistrust you. Another thing, too: until now I have always been
+merry or passionate, and never thoughtful, but you--you have made me
+thoughtful. Yes, there are words which you utter, that, in spite of
+myself, have shaken my very heart, and made me think of all sorts of sad
+things."
+
+"I am sorry, La Louve, if I ever made you sad; but I do not remember
+ever having said anything--"
+
+"Oh," cried La Louve, interrupting her companion with angry impatience,
+"what you do is sometimes as affecting as what you say! You are so
+clever!"
+
+"Do not be angry, La Louve, but explain what you mean."
+
+"Yesterday, in the workroom, I noticed you,--you bent your head over the
+work you were sewing, and a large tear fell on your hand. You looked at
+it for a minute, and then you lifted your hand to your lips, as if to
+kiss and wipe it away. Is this true?"
+
+"Yes," said La Goualeuse, blushing.
+
+"There was nothing in this; but at the moment you looked so unhappy, so
+very miserable, that I felt my very heart turned, as it were, inside
+out. Tell me, do you find this amusing? Why, now, I have been as hard as
+flint on all occasions. No one ever saw me shed a tear,--and yet, only
+looking at your chit face, I felt my heart sink basely within me! Yes,
+for this is baseness,--pure cowardice; and the proof is, that for three
+days I have not dared to write to Martial, my lover, my conscience is so
+bad. Yes, being with you has enfeebled my mind, and this must be put an
+end to,--there's enough of it; this will else do me mischief, I am sure.
+I wish to remain as I am, and not become a joke and despised thing to
+myself."
+
+"You are angry with me, La Louve?"
+
+"Yes, you are a bad acquaintance for me; and if it continues, why, in a
+fortnight's time, instead of calling me the She-wolf, they would call me
+the Ewe! But no, thank ye, it sha'n't come to that yet,--Martial would
+kill me; and so, to make an end of this matter, I will break up all
+acquaintance with you; and that I may be quite separated from you, I
+shall ask to be put in another room. If they refuse me, I will do some
+piece of mischief to put me in wind again, and that I may be sent to the
+black-hole for the remainder of my time here. And this was what I had to
+say to you, Goualeuse."
+
+Timidly taking her companion's hand, who looked at her with gloomy
+distrust, Fleur-de-Marie said:
+
+"I am sure, La Louve, that you take an interest in me, not because you
+are cowardly, but because you are generous-hearted. Brave hearts are the
+only ones which sympathise in the misfortunes of others."
+
+"There is neither generosity nor courage in it," said La Louve,
+coarsely; "it is downright cowardice. Besides, I don't choose to have it
+said that I sympathise with any one. It ain't true."
+
+"Then I will not say so, La Louve; but since you have taken an interest
+in me, you will let me feel grateful to you, will you not?"
+
+"Oh, if you like! This evening, I shall be in another room than yours,
+or alone in the dark hole, and I shall soon be out, thank God!"
+
+"And where shall you go when you leave here?"
+
+"Why, home, to be sure, to the Rue Pierre-Lescat. I have my furniture
+there."
+
+"And Martial?" said La Goualeuse, who hoped to keep up the conversation
+with La Louve, by interesting her in what she most cared for; "shall you
+be glad to see him again?"
+
+"Yes, oh, yes!" she replied, with a passionate air. "When I was taken
+up, he was just recovering from an illness,--a fever which he had from
+being always in the water. For seventeen days and seventeen nights I
+never left him for a moment, and I sold half my kit in order to pay the
+doctor, the drags and all. I may boast of that, and I do boast of it. If
+my man lives, it is I who saved him. Yesterday I burnt another candle
+for him. It is folly,--a mere whim,--but yet it is all one, and we have
+sometimes very good effects in burning candles for a person's recovery."
+
+"And, Martial, where is he now? What is he doing?"
+
+"He is still on an island, near the bridge, at Asničres."
+
+"On an island?"
+
+"Yes, he is settled there, with his family, in a lone house. He is
+always at loggerheads with the persons who protect the fishing; but when
+he is once in his boat, with his double-barrelled gun, why, they who
+approach him had better look out!" said La Louve, proudly.
+
+"What, then, is his occupation?"
+
+"He poaches in the night; and then, as he is as bold as a lion, when
+some coward wishes to get up a quarrel with another, why, he will lend
+his hand."
+
+"Where did you first know Martial?"
+
+"At Paris. He wished to be a locksmith,--a capital business,--always
+with red-hot iron and fire around you; dangerous you may suppose, but
+then that suited him. But he, like me, was badly disposed, and could not
+agree with his master; and then, too, they were always throwing his
+father and one of his brothers in his teeth. But that's nothing to you.
+The end of it was, that he returned to his mother, who is a very devil
+in sin and wickedness, and began to poach on the river. He cannot see me
+at Paris, and in the daytime I go to see him in his island, the Ile du
+Ravageur, near Asničres. It's very near; though if it were farther off,
+I would go all the same, even if I went on my hands and knees, or swam
+all the way, for I can swim like an otter."
+
+"You must be very happy to go into the country," said La Goualeuse, with
+a sigh; "especially if you are as fond as I am of walking in the
+fields."
+
+"I prefer walking in the woods and large forests with my man."
+
+"In the forests! Oh, ain't you afraid?"
+
+"Afraid! Oh, yes, afraid! I should think so! What can a she-wolf fear?
+The thicker and more lonely the forest, the better I should like it. A
+lone hut in which I should live with Martial as a poacher, to go with
+him at night to set the snares for the game, and then, if the keepers
+came to apprehend us, to fire at them, both of us, whilst my man and I
+were hid in underwood,--ah, that would indeed be happiness!"
+
+"Then you have lived in the woods, La Louve?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Who gave you these ideas, then?"
+
+"Martial."
+
+"How did he acquire them?"
+
+"He was a poacher in the forest of Rambouillet; and it is not a year ago
+that he was supposed to have fired at a keeper who had fired at him, the
+vagabond! However, there was no proof of the fact, but Martial was
+obliged to leave that part of the country. Then he came to Paris to try
+and be a locksmith, and then I first saw him. As he was too wild to be
+on good terms with his master, he preferred returning to his relations
+at Asničres, and poach in the river; it is not so slavish. Still he
+always regrets the woods, and some day or other will return to them.
+From his talking to me of poaching and forests, he has crammed my head
+with these ideas, and I now think that is the life I was born for. But
+it is always so. What your man likes, you like. If Martial had been a
+thief, I should have been a thief. When one has a man, we like to be
+like him."
+
+"And where are your own relations, La Louve?"
+
+"How should I know?"
+
+"Is it long since you saw them?"
+
+"I don't know whether they are dead or alive."
+
+"Were they, then, so very unkind to you?"
+
+"Neither kind nor unkind. I was about eleven years old, I think, when my
+mother went off with a soldier. My father, who was a day-labourer,
+brought home a mistress with him into our garret, and two boys she
+had,--one six, and the other my own age. She was a barrow-woman. She
+went on pretty well at first, but after a time, whilst she was out with
+her fruit, a fish-woman used to come and drink with my father, and this
+the apple-woman found out. Then, from this time, every evening, we had
+such battles and rows in the house that I and the two boys were half
+dead with fright. We all three slept together, for we had but one room.
+One day,--it was her birthday, Sainte Madeleine's fęte,--and she scolded
+him because he had not congratulated her on it. From one word another
+arose, and my father concluded by breaking her head with the handle of
+the broom. I really thought he had killed her. She fell like a lump of
+lead, but _la mčre_ Madeleine was hard-lived, and hard-headed also.
+After that she returned my father with interest all the blows he had
+given her, and once bit him so savagely in the hand that the piece of
+flesh remained between her teeth. I must say that these contests were
+what we may call the _grandes eaux_ at Versailles. On common and
+working-days the skirmishes were of a lighter sort,--there were
+bruises, but no blood."
+
+"Was this woman unkind to you?"
+
+"Mčre Madeleine? No; on the contrary. She was a little hasty, but,
+otherwise, a good sort of woman enough. But at last my father got tired,
+and left her and the little furniture we had. He came out of Burgundy,
+and most probably returned to his own country. I was fifteen or sixteen
+at this time."
+
+"And were you still with the old mistress of your father?"
+
+"Where else should I be? Then she took up with a tiler, who came to
+lodge with us. Of the two boys of Mčre Madeleine, one, the eldest, was
+drowned at the Ile des Cygnes, and the other went apprentice to a
+carpenter."
+
+"And what did you do with this woman?"
+
+"Oh, I helped to draw her barrow, made the soup, and carried her man his
+dinner; and when he came home drunk, which happened oftener than was his
+turn, I helped Mčre Madeleine to keep him in order, for we still lived
+in the same apartment. He was as vicious as a sandy-haired donkey, when
+he was tipsy, and tried to kill us. Once, if we had not snatched his axe
+from him, he would certainly have murdered us both. Mčre Madeleine had a
+cut on the shoulder, which bled till the room looked like a
+slaughter-house."
+
+"And how did you become--what--we--are?" said Fleur-de-Marie,
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Why, little Charley, Madeleine's son, who was afterwards drowned at the
+Ile des Cygnes, was my first lover, almost from the time when he, his
+mother, and his brother, came to lodge with us when we were but mere
+children; after him the tiler was my lover, who threatened else to turn
+me out-of-doors. I was afraid that Mčre Madeleine would also send me
+away if she discovered anything. She did, however; but as she was
+really a good creature, she said, 'As it is so, and you are sixteen
+years old, and fit for nothing, for you are too self-willed to take a
+situation or learn a business, you shall go with me and be inscribed in
+the police-books; as you have no relations, I will answer for you, as I
+brought you up, as one may say; and that will give you a position
+authorised by the government, and you will have nothing to do but to be
+merry and dress smart. I shall have no uneasiness about you, and you
+will no longer be a charge to me. What do you say to it, my girl?' 'Why,
+I think indeed you are right,' was my answer; 'I had not thought of
+that.' Well, we went to the Bureau des Moeurs. She answered for me, in
+the usual way, and from that time I was _inscrite_. I met Mčre Madeleine
+a year afterwards. I was drinking with my man, and we asked her to join
+us, and she told us that the tiler had been sentenced to the galleys.
+Since then I have never seen her, but some one, I don't remember who,
+declared that she had been seen at the Morgue three months ago. If it
+were true, really so much the worse, for Mčre Madeleine was a good sort
+of woman,--her heart was in her hand, and she had no more gall than a
+pigeon."
+
+Fleur-de-Marie, though plunged young in an atmosphere of corruption, had
+subsequently breathed so pure an air that she experienced a deeply
+painful sensation at the horrid recital of La Louve. And if we have had
+the sad courage to make it, it has been because all the world should
+know that, hideous as it is, it is still a thousand times less revolting
+than other countless realities.
+
+Ignorance and misery often conduct the lower classes to these fearful
+degradations, human and social.
+
+Yes; there is a crowd of hovels and dens, where children and adults,
+girls and boys, legitimate children and bastards, lying pell-mell on the
+same mattress, have continually before their eyes these infamous
+examples of drunkenness, violence, debauch, and murder. Yes, and too
+frequently unnatural crimes at the tenderest age add to this
+accumulation of horrors.
+
+The rich may shroud their vices in shadow and mystery, and respect the
+sanctity of the domestic hearth, but the most honest artisans, occupying
+nearly always a single chamber with their family, are compelled, from
+want of beds and space, to make their children sleep together, sons and
+daughters, close to themselves, husbands and wives.
+
+If we shudder at the fatal consequences of such necessity almost
+inevitably imposed on poor, but honest artisans, what must it be with
+workpeople depraved by ignorance or misconduct? What fearful examples do
+they not present to unhappy children, abandoned, or rather excited, from
+their tenderest youth to every brutal impulse and animal propensity?
+Have they even the idea of what is right, decent, and modest? Must they
+not be as strange to social laws as the savages of the New World? Poor
+creatures! Corrupted at their very birth, who in the prisons, whither
+their wanderings and idleness often lead them, are already stigmatised
+by the coarse and terrible metaphor, "Graines de Bagne" (Seeds of the
+Gaol)! and the metaphor is a correct one. This sinister prediction is
+almost invariably accomplished: the Galleys or the Bridewell, each sex
+has its destiny.
+
+We do not intend here to justify any profligacy. Let us only compare the
+voluntary degradation of a female carefully educated in the bosom of a
+wealthy family, which has set her none but the most virtuous examples.
+Let us compare, we say, this degradation with that of La Louve, a
+creature, as it were, reared in vice, by vice, and for vice, and to whom
+is pointed out, not without reason, prostitution as a condition
+protected by the government! This is true. There is a bureau where she
+is registered, certificated, and signs her name. A bureau where a
+mother has a right to authorise the prostitution of her daughter; a
+husband the prostitution of his wife. This place is termed the "Bureau
+des Moeurs" (the Office of Manners). Must not society have a vice most
+deeply rooted, incurable in the place of the laws which regulate
+marriage, when power,--yes, power,--that grave and moral abstraction, is
+obliged, not only to tolerate, but to regulate, to legalise, to protect,
+to render it less injurious and dangerous, this sale of body and soul;
+which, multiplied by the unbridled appetites of an immense population,
+acquires daily an almost incalculable amount.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Goualeuse, repressing the emotion which this sad confession of her
+companion had made in her, said to her, timidly:
+
+"Listen to me without being angry."
+
+"Well, what have you to say? I think I have gossiped enough; but it is
+no matter, as it is the last time we shall talk together."
+
+"Are you happy, La Louve?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Does the life you lead make you happy?"
+
+"Here,--at St. Lazare?"
+
+"No; when you are at home and free."
+
+"Yes, I am happy."
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Always."
+
+"You would not change your life for any other?"
+
+"For any other? What--what other life can there be for me?"
+
+"Tell me, La Louve," continued Fleur-de-Marie, after a moment's silence,
+"don't you sometimes like to build castles in the air? It is so amusing
+in prison."
+
+"Castles in the air! About what?"
+
+"About Martial."
+
+"About my man?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"_Ma foi!_ I never built any."
+
+"Let me build one for you and Martial."
+
+"Bah! What's the use of it?"
+
+"To pass away time."
+
+"Well, let's have your castle in the air."
+
+"Well, then, only imagine that a lucky chance, such as sometimes occurs,
+brings you in contact with a person who says, 'Forsaken by your father
+and mother, your infancy was surrounded by such bad examples that you
+must be pitied, as much as blamed, for having become--'"
+
+"Become what?"
+
+"What you and I have become," replied Goualeuse, in a soft voice; and
+then she continued, "Suppose, then, that this person were to say to you,
+'You love Martial; he loves you. Do you and he cease to lead an improper
+life,--instead of being his mistress, become his wife.'"
+
+La Louve shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Do you think he would have me for his wife?"
+
+"Except poaching, he has never committed any guilty act, has he?"
+
+"No; he is a poacher in the river, as he was in the woods, and he is
+right. Why, now, ain't fish like game, for those to have who can catch
+them? Where do they bear the proprietor's mark?"
+
+"Well, suppose that, having given up the dangerous trade of marauding on
+the river, he desires to become an honest man; suppose he inspires, by
+the frankness of his good resolutions, so much confidence in an unknown
+benefactor that he gives him a situation,--let us see, our castle is in
+the air,--gives him a situation--say as gamekeeper, for instance. Why, I
+should suppose that, as he had been a poacher, nothing could better suit
+his taste; it is the same occupation, but in the right way."
+
+"Yes, _ma foi!_ it would be still to live in the woods."
+
+"Only he would not have the situation but on condition that he would
+marry you, and take you with him."
+
+"I go with Martial?"
+
+"Yes; why, you said you should be so happy to live together in the
+depths of the forest. Shouldn't you prefer, instead of the miserable hut
+of the poacher, in which you would hide like guilty creatures, to have a
+neat little cottage, which you would take care of as the active and
+hard-working housekeeper?"
+
+"You are making game of me. Can this be possible?"
+
+"Who knows what may happen? But it's only a castle in the air."
+
+"Ah, if it's only that, all very well!"
+
+"La Louve, I think that I already see you established in your little
+home in the depths of the forest, with your husband and two or three
+children. Children,--what happiness! Are they not?"
+
+"The children of my man!" exclaimed La Louve, with intense eagerness.
+"Ah, yes! They would be dearly loved,--they would!"
+
+"How they would keep you company in your solitude! And, then, when they
+grew up they would be able to render you great service: the youngest
+would pick up the dead branches for fuel; the eldest would go into the
+grass of the forest to watch a cow or two, which they would give you as
+a reward for your husband's activity, for as he had been a poacher he
+would make a better keeper."
+
+"To be sure; that's true enough. But really your castles in the air are
+very amusing. Go on, Goualeuse."
+
+"They would be very much satisfied with your husband, and you would have
+some allowances from your master, a poultry-yard, a garden; and, in
+fact, you would have to work very hard, La Louve, from morning till
+night."
+
+"Oh, if that were all, if I once had my good man near me, I should not
+be afraid of work! I have stout arms."
+
+"And you would have plenty to employ them, I will answer for that. There
+is so much to do,--so much to do! There is the stable to clean, the
+meals to get ready, the clothes to mend; to-day is washing day, next day
+there's the bread to bake, or perhaps the house to clean from top to
+bottom; and, then, the other keepers would say, 'There is no such
+manager as Martial's wife; from the cellar to the garret, in her house,
+it is a pattern of cleanliness, and the children are taken such care of!
+But then she is so very industrious, Madame Martial.'"
+
+"Really though, La Goualeuse, is it true? I should call myself Madame
+Martial," said La Louve, with a sort of pride,--"Madame Martial!"
+
+"Which is better than being called La Louve,--is it not?"
+
+"_Pardieu!_ Why, there's no doubt but I should rather be called by my
+man's name than the name of a wild beast; but--bah!--bah! _louve_ I was
+born, _louve_ I shall die!"
+
+"Who knows? Who can say? Not to shrink from a life that is hard, but
+honest, will ensure success. So, then, work would not frighten you?"
+
+"Oh, certainly not! It is not a husband and four or five brats to take
+care of that would give me any trouble!"
+
+"But then it would not be all work; there are moments for rest. In the
+winter evenings, when the children were put to bed, and your husband
+smoked his pipe whilst he was cleaning his gun or caressing his dogs,
+you would have a little leisure."
+
+"Leisure,--sit with my arms crossed before me! _Ma foi!_ No, I would
+rather mend the linen, by the side of the fire in the evening. That is
+not a very hard job, and in winter the days are so short."
+
+As Fleur-de-Marie proceeded, La Louve forgot more and more of the
+present for the dreams of the future, as deeply interested as La
+Goualeuse had been before her, when Rodolph had talked to her of the
+rustic delights of the Bouqueval farm. La Louve did not attempt to
+conceal the wild tastes with which her lover had inspired her.
+Remembering the deep and wholesome impression which she had experienced
+from the smiling picture of Rodolph in relation to a country life,
+Fleur-de-Marie was desirous of trying the same means of action on La
+Louve, thinking, with reason, that, if her companion was so far affected
+at the sketch of a rude, poor, and solitary life, as to desire ardently
+such an existence, she merited interest and pity. Delighted to see her
+companion listen to her with attention, La Goualeuse continued, smiling:
+
+"And then you see, Madame Martial,--let me call you so,--what does it
+matter--"
+
+"Quite the contrary; it flatters me." Then La Louve shrugged her
+shoulders, and, smiling, also added, "What folly to play at madame! Are
+we children? Well, it's all the same; go on,--it's quite amusing. You
+said--"
+
+"I was saying, Madame Martial, that in speaking of your life, the winter
+in the thickest of the woods, we were only alluding to the worst of the
+seasons."
+
+"_Ma foi!_ No, that is not the worst. To hear the wind whistle all night
+in the forest, and the wolves howl from time to time far off, very far
+off,--I shouldn't tire of that; provided I was at the fireside with my
+man and my children, or even quite alone, if my man was going his
+rounds. Ah, I am not afraid of a gun! If I had my children to defend, I
+could do that,--the wolf would guard her cubs!"
+
+"Oh, I can well believe you! You are very brave--you are; but I am a
+coward. I prefer spring to the winter, when the leaves are green, when
+the pretty wild flowers bloom, and they smell so sweet, so sweet that
+the air is quite scented; and then your children would roll about so
+merrily in the fresh grass; and then the forest would be so thick that
+you could hardly see your house in the midst of the foliage,--I can
+fancy that I see it now. In front of the house is a vine full of leaves,
+which your husband has planted, and which shades the bank of turf where
+he sleeps during the noonday heat, whilst you are going backwards and
+forwards desiring the children not to wake their father. I don't know
+whether you have remarked it, but in the heat of summer about midday
+there is in the woods as deep silence as at midnight, you don't hear the
+leaves shake, nor the birds sing."
+
+"Yes, that's true," replied La Louve, almost mechanically, who became
+more and more forgetful of the reality, and almost believed she saw
+before her the smiling pictures which the poetical imagination of
+Fleur-de-Marie, so instinctively amorous of the beauties of nature,
+presented before her.
+
+Delighted at the deep attention which her companion lent her, La
+Goualeuse continued, allowing herself to be drawn on by the charm of the
+thoughts which she called up:
+
+"There is one thing which I love almost as well as the silence of the
+woods, and that is the noise of the heavy drops of rain falling on the
+leaves; do you like that, too?"
+
+"Oh, yes! I am very fond of a summer shower."
+
+"So am I; and when the trees, the moss, and the grass, are all
+moistened, what a delightfully fresh odour they give out! And then, how
+the sun, as it passes over the trees, makes all the little drops of
+water glisten as they hang from the leaves! Have you ever noticed that?"
+
+"Yes; I remember it now because you tell me of it. Yet, how droll all
+this is! But, Goualeuse, you talk so well that one seems to see
+everything,--to see everything just as you talk; and then, I really do
+not know how to explain it all. But now, what you say seems good, it is
+quite pleasant,--just like the rain we were talking of."
+
+"Oh, don't suppose that we are the only creatures who love a summer
+shower! The dear little birds, how delighted they are! How they shake
+their feathers, whilst they warble so joyously; not more joyously,
+though, than your children,--your children as free, and gay, and
+light-hearted as they! And then, look! as the day declines the youngest
+children run across the wood to meet the elder, who brings back the two
+heifers from pasture, for they have heard the tinkling of the bell in
+the distance!"
+
+"Yes, Goualeuse, and I think I see the smallest and boldest, whom his
+brother has put astride on the back of one of the cows."
+
+"And one would say that the poor animal knows what burden she bears, she
+steps so carefully. But it is supper-time; your eldest child, whilst he
+has been tending the cows at pasture, has amused himself with gathering
+for you a basket of beautiful strawberries, which he has brought quite
+fresh under a thick covering of wild violets."
+
+"Strawberries and violets,--ah, what a lovely smell they have! But where
+the deuce did you find all these ideas, La Goualeuse?"
+
+"In the woods, where the strawberries ripen and the violets blow, you
+have only to look and gather them--But let us go on with our
+housekeeping. It is night, and you must milk your heifers, prepare your
+supper under the shelter of the vine, for you hear your husband's dogs
+bark, and then their master's voice, who, tired as he is, comes home
+singing,--and who could not sing when on a fine summer's eve with
+cheerful heart you return to the house where a good wife and five
+children are waiting for you?--eh, Madame Martial?"
+
+"True, true; one could not but sing," replied La Louve, becoming more
+and more thoughtful.
+
+"Unless one weeps for joy," continued Fleur-de-Marie, herself much
+touched, "and such tears are as sweet as songs. And then, when night has
+completely come, what a pleasure to sit in the arbour and enjoy the
+calmness of a fine evening, to breathe the sweet odour of the forest,
+to hear the prattle of the children, to look at the stars, then the
+heart is so full,--so full that it must pour out its prayer; it must
+thank him to whom we are indebted for the freshness of the evening, the
+sweet scent of the woods, the gentle brightness of the starry sky! After
+this thanksgiving or this prayer, we go to sleep tranquilly till the
+next day, and then again thank our Creator. And this poor, hard-working,
+but calm and honest life, is the same each and every day."
+
+"Every day!" repeated La Louve, with her head drooping on her chest, her
+look fixed, her breast oppressed, "for it is true the good God is good
+to give us wherewithal to live upon, and to make us happy with so
+little."
+
+"Well, tell me now," continued Fleur-de-Marie, gently,--"tell me, ought
+not he to be blessed, after God, who should give you this peaceable and
+laborious life, instead of the wretched existence you lead in the mud of
+the streets of Paris?"
+
+This word Paris suddenly recalled La Louve to reality.
+
+A strange phenomenon had taken place in the mind of this creature.
+
+The simple painting of a humble and rude condition--the mere recital by
+turns--lighted up by the soft rays from the domestic hearth, gilded by
+some joyful sunbeams, refreshed by the breeze of the great woods, or
+perfumed by the odour of wild flowers,--this narrative had made on La
+Louve a more profound or more sensible impression than could an
+exhortation of the most pious morality have effected.
+
+In truth, in proportion as Fleur-de-Marie spoke, La Louve had longed to
+be, and meant to be, an indefatigable manager, a worthy wife, an
+affectionate and devoted mother.
+
+To inspire, even for an instant, a violent, immoral, and degraded woman
+with a love of home, respect for duty, a taste for labour, and gratitude
+towards her Creator; and that, by only promising her what God gives to
+all, the sun, the sky, and the depths of the forest,--what society owes
+to those who lack a roof and a loaf,--was, indeed, a glorious triumph
+for Fleur-de-Marie! Could the most severe moralist--the most
+overpowering preacher--have obtained more in threatening, in their
+monotonous and menacing orations, all human vengeances--all divine
+thunders?
+
+The painful anger with which La Louve was possessed when she returned to
+the reality, after having allowed herself to be charmed by the new and
+wholesome reverie in which, for the first time, Fleur-de-Marie had
+plunged her, proved the influence of her words on her unfortunate
+companion. The more bitter were La Louve's regrets when she fell back
+from this consoling delusion to the horrors of her real position, the
+greater was La Goualeuse's triumph. After a moment's silence and
+reflection, La Louve raised her head suddenly, passed her hand over her
+brow, and rose threatening and angry.
+
+"See, see! I had reason to mistrust you, and to desire not to listen to
+you, because it would turn to ill for me! Why did you talk thus to me?
+Why make a jest of me? Why mock me? And because I have been so weak as
+to say to you that I should like to live in the depths of a forest with
+my man. Who are you, then, that you should make a fool of me in this
+way? You, miserable girl, don't know what you have done! Now, in spite
+of myself, I shall always be thinking of this forest, the house,
+and--and--the children--and all that happiness which I shall never
+have--never--never! And if I cannot forget what you have told me, why,
+my life will be one eternal punishment,--a hell,--and that by your
+fault! Yes, by your fault!"
+
+"So much the better! Oh, so much the better!" said Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"You say, so much the better!" exclaimed La Louve, with her eyes
+glaring.
+
+"Yes,--so much the better! For if your present miserable life appears to
+you a hell, you will prefer that of which I have spoken to you."
+
+"What is the use of preferring it, since it is not destined for me? What
+is the use of regretting that I walk the streets, since I shall die in
+the streets?" exclaimed La Louve, more and more irritated, and taking in
+her powerful grasp the small hand of Fleur-de-Marie. "Answer--answer!
+Why do you try to make me desire that which I cannot have."
+
+"To desire an honest and industrious life is to be worthy of that life,
+as I have already told you," replied Fleur-de-Marie, without attempting
+to disengage her hand.
+
+"Well, and what then? Suppose I am worthy, what does that prove? How
+much the better off will that make me?"
+
+"To see realised what you consider as a dream," answered Fleur-de-Marie,
+in a tone so serious and full of conviction that La Louve, again under
+control, let go La Goualeuse's hand, and gazed at her in amazement.
+
+"Listen to me, La Louve," said Fleur-de-Marie, in a voice full of
+feeling; "do you think me so wicked as to excite such ideas and hopes in
+you, if I were not sure that, whilst I made you blush at your present
+condition, I gave you the means to quit it?"
+
+"You! You can do this?"
+
+"I! No; but some one who is good, and great, and powerful."
+
+"Great and powerful?"
+
+"Listen, La Louve. Three months ago I was, like you, a lost, an
+abandoned creature. One day he of whom I speak to you with tears of
+gratitude,"--and Fleur-de-Marie wiped her eyes,--"one day he came to me,
+and he was not afraid, abased and despised as I was, to say comforting
+words to me, the first I had ever heard. I told him my sufferings, my
+miseries, my shame; I concealed nothing from him, just as you have
+related to me all your past life, La Louve. After having listened to me
+with kindness, he did not blame, but pitied me; he did not even reproach
+me with my disgraceful position, but talked to me of the calm and pure
+life which was found in the country."
+
+"As you did just now?"
+
+"Then my situation appeared to me the more frightful, in proportion as
+the future he held out to me seemed more beautiful."
+
+"Like me?"
+
+"Yes, and so I said as you did,--What use, alas! is it to make me fancy
+this paradise,--me, who am chained to hell? But I was wrong to despair;
+for he of whom I speak is so good, so just, that he is incapable of
+making a false hope shine in the eyes of a poor creature who asked no
+one for pity, happiness, or hope."
+
+"And what did he do for you?"
+
+"He treated me like a sick child. I was, like you, immersed in a
+corrupted air, and he sent me to breathe a wholesome and reviving
+atmosphere. I was also living amongst hideous and criminal beings, and
+he confided me to persons as good as himself, who have purified my soul
+and elevated my mind; for he communicates to all those who love and
+respect him a spark of his own refined intelligence. Yes, if my words
+move you, La Louve, if my tears make your tears flow, it is that his
+mind and thought inspire me. If I speak to you of the happier future
+which you will obtain by repentance, it is because I can promise you
+this future in his name, although, at this moment, he is ignorant of the
+engagement I make. In fact, I say to you, Hope! because he always
+listens to the voice of those who desire to become better; for God sent
+him on earth to make people believe in his providence!"
+
+[Illustration: _La Goualeuse in the prison._
+Original Etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+As she spoke, Fleur-de-Marie's countenance became radiant, and her pale
+cheeks suffused with a delicate carnation; her beautiful eyes
+sparkled, and she appeared so touchingly beautiful that La Louve gazed
+on her with respectful admiration, and said:
+
+"Where am I? Do I dream? Who are you, then? Oh, I was right when I said
+you were not one of us! But, then, you talk so well,--you, who can do so
+much, you, who know such powerful people, how is it that you are here, a
+prisoner with us?"
+
+Fleur-de-Marie was about to reply, when Madame Armand came up and
+interrupted her, to conduct her to Madame d'Harville. La Louve remained
+overwhelmed with surprise, and the inspectress said to her:
+
+"I see, with pleasure, that the presence of La Goualeuse in the prison
+has brought good fortune to you and your companions. I know you have
+made a subscription for poor Mont Saint-Jean; that is kind and
+charitable, La Louve, and will be of service to you. I was sure that you
+were better than you allowed yourself to appear. In recompense for this
+kind action, I think I can promise you that the term of your
+imprisonment shall be shortened by several days."
+
+Madame Armand then walked away, followed by Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We must not be astonished at the almost eloquent language of
+Fleur-de-Marie, when we remember that her mind, so wonderfully gifted,
+had rapidly developed itself, thanks to the education and instruction
+she had received at Bouqueval farm.
+
+The young girl was, indeed, strong in her experience.
+
+The sentiments she had awakened in the heart of La Louve had been
+awakened in her own heart by Rodolph, and under almost similar
+circumstances.
+
+Believing that she detected some good instincts in her companion, she
+had endeavoured to lure her back to honesty, by proving to her
+(according to Rodolph's theory, applied to the farm at Bouqueval) that
+it was her interest to become honest, by pointing out to her restitution
+to the paths of rectitude in smiling and attractive colours.
+
+And here let us repeat that, in our opinion, an incomplete as well as
+stupid and inefficacious mode is employed to inspire the poor and
+ignorant classes with a hatred of evil and a love of good.
+
+In order to turn them away from the bad path, they are incessantly
+threatened with divine and human vengeance; incessantly a sinister clank
+is sounded in their ears: prison-keep, fetters, handcuffs; and, in the
+distance, in dark shadow, at the extreme horizon of crime, they have
+their attention directed to the executioner's axe glittering amidst the
+glare of everlasting flames. We observe that the intimidation is
+constant, fearful, and appalling. To him who does ill, imprisonment,
+infamy, punishment. This is just. But to him who does well does society
+award noble gifts, glorious distinctions? No.
+
+Does society encourage resignation, order, probity, in that immense mass
+of artisans who are for ever doomed to toil and privation, and almost
+always to profound misery, by benevolent rewards? No.
+
+Is the scaffold which the criminal ascends a protection for the man of
+integrity? No.
+
+Strange and fatal symbol! Justice is represented as blind, bearing in
+one hand a sword to punish, and in the other scales in which she weighs
+accusation and defence. This is not the image of Justice. This is the
+image of Law, or, rather, of the man who condemns or acquits according
+to his conscience. Justice should hold in one hand a sword, and in the
+other a crown,--one to strike the wicked, and the other to recompense
+the good. The people would then see that, if there is a terrible
+punishment for evil, there is a brilliant recompense for good; whilst as
+it is, in their plain and simple sense, the people seek in vain for the
+contrary side of tribunals, gaols, galleys, and scaffolds. The people
+see plainly a criminal justice, consisting of upright, inflexible,
+enlightened men, always employed in searching out, detecting, and
+punishing the evil-doers. They do not see the virtuous justice,
+consisting of upright, inflexible, and enlightened men, always searching
+out and rewarding the honest man. All says to him, Tremble! Nothing says
+to him, Hope! All threatens him; nothing consoles him!
+
+The state annually expends many millions for the sterile punishment of
+crimes. With this enormous sum it keeps prisoners and gaolers,
+galley-slaves and galley-sergeants, scaffolds and executioners. This is
+necessary? Agreed. But how much does the state disburse for the rewards
+(so salutary, so fruitful) for honest men? Nothing. And this is not all,
+as we shall demonstrate when the course of this recital shall conduct us
+to the state prison; how many artisans of irreproachable honesty would
+attain the summit of their wishes if they were assured of enjoying one
+day the bodily comforts of prisoners, always certain of good food, good
+bed, and good shelter? And yet, in the name of their dignity, as honest
+men, long and painfully tried, have they not a right to claim the same
+care and comforts as criminals,--such, for instance, as Morel, the
+lapidary, who had toiled for twenty years, industrious, honest, and
+resigned, in the midst of bitter misery and sore temptations? Do not
+such men deserve sufficiently well of society, that society should try
+and find them out, and if not recompense them, for the honour of
+humanity, at least support them in the painful and difficult path which
+they tread so courageously? Is the man of worth so modest that he finds
+greater security than the thief or assassin? and are not these always
+detected by criminal justice? Alas, it is a utopia, but it is consoling!
+
+Suppose, for the moment, a society were so organised that it would hold
+an assizes of virtue, as we have assizes of crime,--a public ministry
+pointing out noble actions, disclosing them to the view of all, as we
+now denounce crimes to the avenging power of the laws. We will give two
+instances--two justices--and let our readers say which is most fruitful
+in instruction, in consequences, in positive results. One man has killed
+another, for the purpose of robbing him; at break of day they stealthily
+erect the guillotine in an obscure corner of Paris and cut off the
+assassin's head before the dregs of the populace, which laughs at the
+judge, the sufferer, and the executioner. This is the last resort of
+society. This is the chastisement she bestows on the greatest crime
+which can be committed against her. This is the most terrible, the most
+wholesome warning she can give to her population,--the only one, for
+there is no counterpoise to this keen axe, dripping with blood; no,
+society has no spectacle, mild and benevolent, to oppose to this
+funereal scene.
+
+Let us go on with our utopia. Would it not be otherwise if almost every
+day the people had before their eyes some illustrious virtues greatly
+glorified and substantially rewarded by the state? Would it not be to
+encourage good continually, if we often saw an august, imposing, and
+venerable tribunal summon before it, in presence of an immense
+multitude, a poor and honest artisan, whose long, intelligent, and
+enduring life should be described, whilst he was thus addressed:
+
+"For twenty years you have manfully struggled against misfortune, your
+family has been brought up by you in the principles of honour and
+rectitude, your superior virtues have greatly distinguished you,--you
+merit praise and recompense. Society, always vigilant, just, and
+all-powerful, never leaves in oblivion either good or evil. Every man is
+recompensed according to his works. The state assures to you a pension
+sufficient for your wants. Obtaining this deserved mark of public
+notice, you will end in leisure and ease a life which is an example to
+all; and thus are and will be exalted those who, like yourself, shall
+have struggled for many years with an admirable persistence in good, and
+given proof of rare and grand moral qualities. Your example will
+encourage a great many to imitate you; hope will lighten the painful
+burden which their destiny imposes on them for so many years of their
+life. Animated by a salutary emulation, they will energetically struggle
+to accomplish the most arduous duties, in order that one day they may be
+distinguished from the rest, and rewarded as you are."
+
+We ask, which of the two sights--the beheaded assassin, or the good man
+rewarded--would act on the million with more salutary and more fruitful
+effect?
+
+No doubt many delicate minds will be indignant at the bare thought of
+these ignoble substantial rewards awarded to the most ethereal thing in
+the world,--Virtue! They will find all sorts of arguments, more or less
+philosophical, platonic, theological, and especially economic, against
+such a proposition; such as, "Virtue is its own reward;" "Virtue is a
+priceless gem;" "The satisfaction of the conscience is the noblest of
+recompenses;" and, finally, this triumphant and unanswerable objection,
+"The eternal happiness which awaits the just in another life ought to be
+sufficient to encourage mankind to do well." To this we reply that
+society, in order to intimidate and punish the guilty, does not appear
+to us to rely entirely and exclusively on the divine vengeance, which
+they tell us will visit them in another world. Society anticipates the
+last judgment by human judgments. Awaiting the inexorable hour of the
+archangels in armour, with sounding trumpets and fiery swords, society
+modestly comforts herself with--_gens-d'armes_.
+
+We repeat, to terrify the wicked, we materialise, or rather we reduce to
+human, perceptible, and visible proportions, the anticipated effects of
+divine wrath. Why should we not do the same with the divine rewards to
+worthy and virtuous people?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But let us leave these mad, absurd, stupid, impracticable utopianisms,
+like real utopianisms, as they are. Society is as well as it is. Ask
+those merry souls, who, with uncertain step, stupid look, and noisy
+laugh, have just quitted the gay banquet, if it is not.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE PROTECTRESS.
+
+
+The inspectress soon entered with Goualeuse into the little room where
+Clémence was staying. The pale cheek of the young girl was still
+slightly coloured in consequence of her conversation with La Louve.
+
+"Madame la Marquise, pleased with the excellent character I have given
+of you," said Madame Armand to Fleur-de-Marie, "has desired to see you,
+and will, perhaps, be so good as to have you released from here before
+the expiration of your time."
+
+"I thank you, madame," replied Fleur-de-Marie, timidly, to Madame
+Armand, who left her alone with the marchioness.
+
+The latter, struck by the candid expression of her protégée's features,
+and by her carriage, so full of grace and modesty, could not help
+remembering that La Goualeuse had pronounced the name of Rodolph in her
+sleep, and that the inspectress believed the youthful prisoner to be a
+prey to deep and hidden love. Although perfectly convinced that it could
+not be a question as to the Grand Duke Rodolph, Clémence acknowledged to
+herself that, with regard to beauty, La Goualeuse was worthy of a
+prince's love.
+
+At the sight of her protectress, whose physiognomy, as we have said,
+displayed excessive goodness, Fleur-de-Marie felt herself
+sympathetically attracted towards her.
+
+"My girl," said Clémence to her, "whilst commending the gentleness of
+your disposition and the discreetness of your behaviour, Madame Armand
+complains of your want of confidence in her."
+
+Fleur-de-Marie bowed her look, but did not reply.
+
+"The peasant's dress in which you were clad when you were apprehended,
+your silence on the subject of the place where you resided before you
+were brought here, prove that you conceal certain particulars from us."
+
+"Madame--"
+
+"I have no right to your confidence, my poor child, nor would I ask you
+any question that would distress you; but, as I am assured that if I
+request your discharge from prison it will be accorded to me, before I
+do so I should wish to talk to you of your own plans, your resources for
+the future. Once free, what do you propose to do? If, as I doubt not,
+you decide on following the good path you have already entered upon,
+have confidence in me, and I will put you in the way of gaining an
+honest subsistence."
+
+La Goualeuse was moved to tears at the interest which Madame d'Harville
+evinced for her. After a moment's hesitation, she replied:
+
+"You are very good, madame, to show so much benevolence towards me,--so
+generous, that I ought, perhaps, to break the silence which I have
+hitherto kept on the past, to which I was forced by an oath--"
+
+"An oath?"
+
+"Yes, madame, I have sworn to be secret to justice, and the persons
+employed in this prison, as to the series of events by which I was
+brought hither. Yet, madame, if you will make me a promise--"
+
+"Of what nature?"
+
+"To keep my secret. I may, thanks to you, madame, without breaking my
+oath, comfort most worthy persons who, no doubt, are excessively uneasy
+on my account."
+
+"Rely on my discretion. I will only say what you authorise me to
+disclose."
+
+"Oh, thanks, madame! I was so fearful that my silence towards my
+benefactors would appear like ingratitude!"
+
+The gentle accents of Fleur-de-Marie, and her well-selected phrases,
+struck Madame d'Harville with fresh surprise.
+
+"I will not conceal from you," said she, "that your demeanour, your
+language, all surprise me in a remarkable degree. How could you, with an
+education which appears polished,--how could you--"
+
+"Fall so low, you would say, madame?" said Goualeuse, with bitterness.
+"Alas! It is but a very short time that I have received this education.
+I owe this benefit to a generous protector, who, like you, madame,
+without knowing me, without even having the favourable recommendation
+which you have received in my favour, took pity upon me--"
+
+"And who is this protector?"
+
+"I do not know, madame."
+
+"You do not know?"
+
+"He only makes himself known, they tell me, by his inexhaustible
+goodness. Thanks be to Heaven, he found me in his path!"
+
+"And when did you first meet?"
+
+"One night,--in the Cité, madame," said Goualeuse, lowering her eyes, "a
+man was going to beat me; this unknown benefactor defended me
+courageously; this was my first meeting with him."
+
+"Then he was one of the people?"
+
+"The first time I saw him he had the dress and language; but
+afterwards--"
+
+"Afterwards?"
+
+"The way in which he spoke to me, the profound respect with which he was
+treated by the persons to whom he confided me, all proved to me that he
+had only assumed the exterior disguise of one of the men who are seen
+about the Cité."
+
+"But with what motive?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"And do you know the name of this mysterious protector?"
+
+"Oh, yes, madame," said La Goualeuse, with excitement; "thank Heaven!
+For I can incessantly bless and adore that name. My preserver is called
+M. Rodolph, madame."
+
+Clémence blushed deeply.
+
+"And has he no other name," she asked, quickly, of Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"I know no other, madame. In the farm, where he sent me, he was only
+known as M. Rodolph."
+
+"And his age?"
+
+"Still young, madame."
+
+"And handsome?"
+
+"Oh, yes! Handsome,--noble as his own heart."
+
+The grateful and impassioned accent with which Fleur-de-Marie uttered
+these words caused a deeply painful sensation in Madame d'Harville's
+bosom. An unconquerable and inexplicable presentiment told her that it
+was indeed the prince. "The remarks of the inspectress were just,"
+thought Clémence. "Goualeuse loves Rodolph; that was the name which she
+pronounced in her sleep. Under what strange circumstance had the prince
+and this unfortunate girl met? Why did Rodolph go disguised into the
+Cité?"
+
+The marquise could not resolve these questions. She only remembered what
+Sarah had wickedly and mendaciously told her as to the pretended
+eccentricities of Rodolph. Was it not, in fact, strange that he should
+have extricated from the dregs of society a girl of such excessive
+loveliness, and evidently so intelligent and sensible?
+
+Clémence had noble qualities, but she was a woman, and deeply loved
+Rodolph, although she had resolved to bury that secret in her heart's
+very core.
+
+Without reflecting that this was unquestionably but one of those
+generous actions which the prince was accustomed to do by stealth,
+without considering that she was, perchance, confounding with love a
+sentiment that was but excess of gratitude, without considering that,
+even if this feeling were more tender, Rodolph must be ignorant of it,
+the marchioness, in the first moment of bitterness and injustice, could
+not help looking on Goualeuse as her rival. Her pride revolted when she
+believed she was suffering, in spite of herself, with such a humiliating
+rivalry; and she replied, in a tone so harsh as to contrast cruelly with
+the affectionate kindness of her first words:
+
+"And how is it, then, mademoiselle, that your protector leaves you in
+prison? How comes it that you are here?"
+
+"Oh, madame," said Fleur-de-Marie, struck at this sudden change of tone,
+"have I done anything to displease you?"
+
+"In what could you have displeased me?" asked Madame d'Harville,
+haughtily.
+
+"It appeared to me just now that you spoke to me so kindly, madame."
+
+"Really, mademoiselle, is it necessary that I should weigh every word I
+utter? Since I take an interest in you, I have, I think, a right to ask
+you certain questions!"
+
+Scarcely had Clémence uttered these words, than she regretted their
+severity; first from a praiseworthy return of generosity, and then
+because she thought by being harsh with her rival she might not learn
+any more of what she was so anxious to know. In fact, Goualeuse's
+countenance, just now so open and confiding, became suddenly alarmed.
+Like the sensitive plant, which, on the first touch, curls up its leaves
+and withdraws within itself, the heart of Fleur-de-Marie became
+painfully contracted. Clémence replied, gently, in order that she might
+not awaken her protégée's suspicions by too sudden a return to a milder
+tone:
+
+"Really I must repeat that I cannot understand why, having so much to
+praise your benefactor for, you are left here a prisoner. How is it
+that, after having returned with all sincerity to the paths of
+rectitude, you could have been apprehended, at night, in a forbidden
+place? All this, I confess to you, appears to me very extraordinary. You
+speak of an oath, which has bound you to silence; but this very oath is
+so strange!"
+
+"I have spoken the truth, madame--"
+
+"I am sure of that; it is only to see and hear you to be convinced that
+you are incapable of falsehood; but what is so incomprehensible in your
+situation makes me the more curious and impatient to have it cleared up;
+and to this alone must you attribute the abruptness of my language just
+now. I was wrong, I feel I was, for, although I have no claim to your
+confidence beyond my anxious desire to be of service to you, yet you
+have offered to disclose to me what you have not yet told to any person;
+and I can assure you, my poor girl, that this proof of your confidence
+in the interest I feel for you touches me very nearly. I promise you to
+keep your secret most scrupulously, if you confide it to me, and I will
+do everything in my power to effect what you may wish to have done."
+
+Thanks to this skilful patching up (the phrase will be excused, we
+trust), Madame d'Harville regained La Goualeuse's confidence, which had
+been for a moment repressed. Fleur-de-Marie, in her candour, reproached
+herself for having wrongly interpreted the words which had wounded her.
+
+"Excuse me, madame," she said to Clémence; "I was, no doubt, wrong not
+to tell you at once what you desired to know, but you asked me for the
+name of my preserver, and, in spite of myself, I could not resist the
+pleasure of speaking of him."
+
+"Nothing could be more praiseworthy, and it proves how truly grateful
+you are to him. Tell me how it was that you left the worthy people with
+whom you were, no doubt, placed by M. Rodolph? Is it to this event that
+the oath you were compelled to take, refers?"
+
+"Yes, madame; but, thanks to you, I think I may still keep my word
+faithfully, and, at the same time, inform my benefactors as to my
+disappearance."
+
+"Now, then, my poor girl, I am all attention to you."
+
+"It is three months nearly since M. Rodolph placed me at a farm, which
+is situated four or five leagues from Paris--"
+
+"Did M. Rodolph take you there himself?"
+
+"Yes, madame, and confided me to the charge of a worthy lady, as good as
+she was venerable; and I loved her like my mother. She and the curé of
+the village, at the request of M. Rodolph, took charge of my education."
+
+"And M.--Rodolph,--did he often come to the farm?"
+
+"No, madame, he only came three times during the whole time I was
+there."
+
+Clémence's heart throbbed with joy.
+
+"And when he came to see you that made you very happy, did it not?"
+
+"Oh, yes, madame! It was more than happiness to me; it was a feeling
+mingled with gratitude, respect, adoration, and even a degree of fear."
+
+"Of fear?"
+
+"Between him and me, between him and others, the distance is so great!"
+
+"But what, then, was his rank?"
+
+"I do not know that he had any rank, madame."
+
+"Yet you allude to the distance which exists between him and others."
+
+"Oh, madame, what places him above all the rest of the world is the
+elevation of his character, his inexhaustible generosity towards those
+who suffer, the enthusiasm which he inspires in every one. The wicked,
+even, cannot hear his name without trembling, and respect as much as
+they dread him! But forgive me, madame, for still speaking of him. I
+ought to be silent, for I seek to give you an adequate idea of him who
+ought to be adored in silence. I might as well try to express by words
+the goodness of Heaven!"
+
+"This comparison--"
+
+"Is, perhaps, sacrilegious, madame; but will it offend the good God to
+compare to him one who has given me the consciousness of good and evil,
+one who has snatched me from the abyss, one, in fact, to whom I owe a
+new existence?"
+
+"I do not blame you, my child; I can understand all your noble
+exaggerations. But how was it that you abandoned this farm, where you
+must have been so happy?"
+
+"Alas, not voluntarily, madame!"
+
+"Who, then, forced you away?"
+
+"One evening, some days since," said Fleur-de-Marie, trembling even as
+she spoke, "I was going towards the parsonage-house in the village, when
+a wicked woman, who had used me very cruelly during my infancy, and a
+man, her accomplice, who had concealed themselves in a ravine, threw
+themselves upon me, and, after having gagged me, carried me off in a
+hackney-coach."
+
+"For what purpose?"
+
+"I know not, madame. My ravishers, as I think, were acting in conformity
+to orders from some powerful personages."
+
+"What followed this?"
+
+"Scarcely was the hackney-coach in motion, than the wicked creature, who
+is called La Chouette, exclaimed, 'I have some vitriol here, and I'll
+rub La Goualeuse's face, to disfigure her with it!'"
+
+"Oh, horrible! Unhappy girl! And who has saved you from this danger?"
+
+"The woman's confederate, a blind man called the Schoolmaster."
+
+"And he defended you?"
+
+"Yes, madame, this and another time also. On this occasion there was a
+struggle between him and La Chouette: exerting his strength, the
+Schoolmaster compelled her to throw out of window the bottle which held
+the vitriol. This was the first service he rendered me, after having,
+however, aided in carrying me off. The night was excessively dark. At
+the end of an hour and a half the coach stopped, as I think, on the
+highroad which traverses the Plain St. Denis, and here was a man on
+horseback, evidently awaiting us. 'What!' said he, 'have you got her at
+last?' 'Yes, we've got her,' answered La Chouette, who was furious
+because she had been hindered from disfiguring me. 'If you wish to get
+rid of the little baggage at once, it will be a good plan to stretch her
+on the ground, and let the coach wheels pass over her skull. It will
+appear as if she had been accidentally killed.'"
+
+"You make me shudder."
+
+"Alas, madame, La Chouette was quite capable of doing what she said!
+Fortunately, the man on horseback replied that he would not have any
+harm done to me, and all he wanted was to have me confined somewhere for
+two months in a place whence I could neither go out nor be allowed to
+write to any one. Then La Chouette proposed to take me to a man's called
+Bras Rouge, who keeps a tavern in the Champs Elysées. In this tavern
+there are several subterranean chambers, and one of these, La Chouette
+said, would serve me for a prison. The man on horseback agreed to this
+proposition; and he promised me that, after remaining two months at Bras
+Rouge's, I should be properly taken care of, and not be sorry for having
+quitted the farm at Bouqueval."
+
+"What a strange mystery!"
+
+"This man gave money to La Chouette, and promised her more when she
+should bring me from Bras Rouge's, and then galloped away. Our
+hackney-coach continued its way on to Paris; and a short time before we
+reached the barrier the Schoolmaster said to La Chouette, 'You want to
+shut Goualeuse up in one of Bras Rouge's cellars, when you know very
+well that, being so close to the river's side, these cellars are always
+under water in the winter! Do you wish to drown her?' 'Yes,' replied La
+Chouette."
+
+"Poor girl! What had you ever done to this horrid woman?"
+
+"Nothing, madame; and from my very infancy she had always been so full
+of hatred towards me. The Schoolmaster replied, 'I won't have Goualeuse
+drowned! She sha'n't go to Bras Rouge's!' La Chouette was as astonished
+as I was, madame, to hear this man defend me thus, and she flew into a
+violent rage, and swore she would take me to Bras Rouge's in spite of
+the Schoolmaster. 'I defy you!' said he, 'for I have got Goualeuse by
+the arm, and I will not let go my hold of her; and, if you come near
+her, I'll strangle you!' 'What do you mean, then, to do with her,' cried
+La Chouette, 'since she must be concealed somewhere for two months, so
+that no one may know where she is?' 'There's a way,' said the
+Schoolmaster. 'We are going by the Champs Elysées; we will stop the
+coach a little way off the guard-house, and you shall go to Bras Rouge's
+tavern. It is midnight, and you will be sure to find him; bring him
+here, and he shall lead La Goualeuse to the guard-house, declaring that
+she is a _fille de la Cité_, whom he has found loitering about his
+house. As girls are sentenced to three months' imprisonment if found in
+the Champs Elysées, and as La Goualeuse is still on the police books,
+she will be apprehended and sent to St. Lazare, where she will be better
+taken care of and concealed than in Bras Rouge's cellar.' 'But,'
+answered La Chouette, 'Goualeuse will not allow herself to be arrested
+even at the _corps-de-garde_. She will declare that we have carried her
+off, and give information against us; and, supposing even that she goes
+to prison, she will write to her protectors, and all will be
+discovered.' 'No, she will go to prison willingly,' answered the
+Schoolmaster; 'and she shall take an oath not to give any information
+against any person as long as she is in St. Lazare, nor afterwards,
+either. This is a debt she owes me, for I prevented you from disfiguring
+her, La Chouette, and saved her from being drowned at Bras Rouge's; but
+if, after having sworn not to speak, she dares to do so, we will attack
+the farm at Bouqueval with fire and blood!' Then, addressing me, the
+Schoolmaster added,'Decide, then: take the oath I demand of you, and you
+shall get off for three months in prison; if not, I abandon you to La
+Chouette, who will take you to Bras Rouge's, where you will be drowned,
+and we will set Bouqueval farm on fire. So, come, decide. I know, if you
+take the oath, you will keep it.'"
+
+"And you did swear?"
+
+"Alas, yes, madame! I was so fearful they would do my protectors at the
+farm an injury, and then I so much dreaded being drowned by La Chouette
+in a cellar, it seemed so frightful to me; another death would have
+seemed to me less horrid, and, perhaps, I should not have tried to
+escape it."
+
+"What a dreadful idea at your age!" said Madame d'Harville, looking at
+La Goualeuse with surprise. "When you have left this place, and have
+been restored to your benefactors, shall you not be very happy? Has not
+your repentance effaced the past?"
+
+"Can the past ever be effaced? Can the past ever be forgotten? Can
+repentance kill memory, madame?" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, in a tone so
+despairing that Clémence shuddered.
+
+"But all faults are retrieved, unhappy girl!"
+
+"And the remembrance of stain, madame, does not that become more and
+more terrible in proportion as the soul becomes purer, in proportion as
+the mind becomes more elevated? Alas, the higher we ascend, the deeper
+appears the abyss which we have quitted!"
+
+"Then you renounce all hope of restoration--of pardon?"
+
+"On the part of others--no, madame, your kindness proves to me that
+remorse will find indulgence."
+
+"But you will be pitiless towards yourself?"
+
+"Others, madame, may not know, pardon, or forget what I have been, but I
+shall never forget it!"
+
+"And do you sometimes desire to die?"
+
+"Sometimes!" said Goualeuse, smiling bitterly. Then, after a moment's
+silence, she added, "Sometimes,--yes, madame."
+
+"Still you were afraid of being disfigured by that horrid woman; and so
+you wish to preserve your beauty, my poor little girl. That proves that
+life has still some attraction for you; so courage! Courage!"
+
+"It is, perhaps, weakness to think of it, but if I were handsome, as you
+say, madame, I should like to die handsome, pronouncing the name of my
+benefactor."
+
+Madame d'Harville's eyes filled with tears. Fleur-de-Marie had said
+these last words with so much simplicity; her angelic, pale, depressed
+features, her melancholy smile, were all so much in accord with her
+words, that it was impossible to doubt the reality of her sad desire.
+Madame d'Harville was endued with too much delicacy not to feel how
+miserable, how fatal, was this thought of La Goualeuse: "I shall never
+forget what I have been!"--the fixed, permanent, incessant idea which
+controlled and tortured Fleur-de-Marie's life. Clémence, ashamed at
+having for an instant misconstrued the ever disinterested generosity of
+the prince, regretted also that she had for a moment allowed herself to
+be actuated by any feeling of absurd jealousy against La Goualeuse,
+who, with such pure excitement, expressed her gratitude towards her
+protector. It was strange that the admiration which this poor prisoner
+felt so deeply towards Rodolph perhaps increased the profound love which
+Clémence must for ever conceal from him. She said, to drive away these
+thoughts:
+
+"I trust that, for the future, you will be less severe towards yourself.
+But let us talk of this oath, for now I can explain your silence. You
+will not denounce these wretches?"
+
+"Although the Schoolmaster shared in my carrying off, yet he twice
+defended me, and I would not be ungrateful towards him."
+
+"Then you lent yourself to the plans of these monsters?"
+
+"Yes, madame, I was so frightened! The Chouette went to seek for Bras
+Rouge, who conducted me to the guard-house, saying he had found me
+roving near his cabaret. I did not deny it, and so they took me into
+custody and brought me here."
+
+"But your friends at the farm must be in the utmost anxiety about you!"
+
+"Alas, madame, in my great alarm, I did not reflect that my oath would
+prevent me from assuring them of my safety. Now that makes me wretched!
+But I think (and hope you think so, too) that, without breaking my word,
+I may beg of you to write to Madame Georges at the farm of Bouqueval,
+and assure her that she need have no fears for me, without informing her
+where I am; for I have promised to be silent."
+
+"My child, these precautions will be useless if, at my recommendation,
+you are pardoned. To-morrow you will return to the farm without having
+betrayed your oath by that; and you may consult your friends hereafter
+to know how far you are bound by a promise which was extorted from you
+by a threat."
+
+"You believe then, madame, that, thanks to your kindness, I may hope to
+leave here very soon?"
+
+"You deserve my interest so much that I am sure I shall succeed, and I
+have no doubt but that the day after to-morrow you may rely on going in
+person to your benefactors."
+
+"So soon! Madame, how have I deserved so much goodness on your part? How
+can I ever repay your kindness?"
+
+"By continuing to behave as you have done. I only regret that I cannot
+do anything towards your future existence; that is a pleasure which your
+friends have reserved for themselves."
+
+At this moment Madame Armand entered abruptly, and with a troubled air.
+
+"Madame la Marquise," she said, addressing Clémence with hesitation, "I
+am deeply pained with a message I have to convey to you."
+
+"What do you mean, madame?"
+
+"The Duke de Lucenay is below, just come from your house, madame."
+
+"La, how you frighten me! What's the matter?"
+
+"I do not know, madame; but M. de Lucenay has, he told me, some very
+distressing information to communicate to you. He learnt from the
+duchess, his lady, that you were here, and has come in great haste."
+
+"Distressing information!" said Madame d'Harville to herself; then she
+suddenly shrieked out, in agonised accents, "My daughter, my daughter,
+my daughter, perhaps! Oh, speak, madame!"
+
+"I do not know, your ladyship."
+
+"Oh, for mercy's sake--for mercy's sake, take me to M. de Lucenay!"
+cried Madame d'Harville, rushing out with a bewildered air, followed by
+Madame Armand.
+
+"Poor mother! She fears for her child!" said La Goualeuse, following
+Clémence with her eyes. "Oh, no, it is impossible! At the very moment
+when she was so benevolent and kind to me such a blow could not strike
+her! No, no; once again I say it is impossible!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE FORCED FRIENDSHIP.
+
+
+We shall now conduct the reader to the house in the Rue du Temple, about
+three o'clock on the day in which M. d'Harville terminated his
+existence. At the time mentioned, the conscientious and indefatigable M.
+Pipelet sat alone in his lodge, occupied in repairing the boot which
+had, more than once, fallen from his hand during Cabrion's last attack;
+the physiognomy of the delicate-minded porter was dejected, and
+exhibited a more than usually melancholy air.
+
+All at once a loud and shrill voice was heard calling from the upper
+part of the house, exclaiming, in tones which reëchoed down the
+staircase:
+
+"M. Pipelet! M. Pipelet! Make haste! Come up as fast as you can! Madame
+Pipelet is taken very ill!"
+
+"God bless me!" cried Alfred, rising from his stool. "Anastasie ill!"
+But, quickly resuming his seat, he said to himself, "What a simpleton I
+must be to believe such a thing! My wife has been gone out more than an
+hour! Ah, but may she not have returned without my observing it?
+Certainly, such a mode of proceeding would be somewhat irregular, but I
+am not the less bound to admit that it is possible."
+
+"M. Pipelet!" called out the up-stairs voice again. "Pray come as
+quickly as you can; I am holding your wife in my arms!"
+
+"Holloa!" said Pipelet, springing up abruptly. "Somebody got my wife in
+his arms!"
+
+"I really cannot manage to unlace Madame Pipelet's stays by myself!"
+screamed out the voice, in tones louder than before.
+
+These words perfectly electrified Alfred, and the blush of offended
+modesty empurpled his melancholy features.
+
+"Sir-r-r!" cried he in a stentorian voice, as he rushed frantically from
+his lodge. "Sir-r-r! I adjure you, in the name of Honour, to leave my
+wife and her stays alone! I come! I come!"
+
+And so saying, Alfred dashed into the dark labyrinth called a staircase,
+forgetting, in his excitement, to close the door of the lodge after him.
+
+Scarcely had he quitted it than an individual entered quickly, snatched
+from the table the cobbler's hammer, sprung on the bed, and, by means of
+four small tacks, previously inserted into each corner of a thick
+cardboard he carried with him, nailed the cardboard to the back of the
+dark recess in which stood Pipelet's bed; then disappeared as quickly as
+he had come. So expeditiously was the operation performed, that the
+porter, having almost immediately recollected his omission respecting
+the closing the lodge door, hastily descended, and both shut and locked
+it; then putting the key in his pocket, returned with all speed to
+succour his wife above-stairs, without the slightest suspicion crossing
+his mind that any foot had trod there since his own. Having taken this
+precautionary measure, Alfred again darted off to the assistance of
+Anastasie, exclaiming, with all the power of his lungs:
+
+"Sir-r-r! I come! Behold me! I place my wife beneath the safeguard of
+your delicacy!"
+
+But a fresh surprise awaited the worthy porter, and had well-nigh caused
+him to fall from the height he had ascended to the sill of his own
+lodge,--the voice of her he expected to find fainting in the arms of
+some unknown individual was now heard, not from the upper part of the
+house, but at the entrance! In well-known accents, but sharper and
+shriller than usual, he heard Anastasie exclaim:
+
+"Why, Alfred! What do you mean by leaving the lodge? Where have you got
+to, you old gossip?"
+
+At this appeal, M. Pipelet managed to descend as far as the first
+landing, where he remained petrified with astonishment, gazing downwards
+with fixed stare, open mouth, and one foot drawn up in the most
+ludicrous manner.
+
+"Alfred, I say!" screamed Madame Pipelet, a second time, in a voice loud
+enough to awake the dead.
+
+"Anastasie down there? Then it is impossible she can be ill up-stairs,"
+said Pipelet, mentally, faithful to his system of close and logical
+argumentation. "Whose, then, was the manly voice that spoke of her
+illness, and of his undoing her stays? An impostor, doubtless, to whom
+my distraction and alarm have been a matter of amusement; but what
+motive could he have had in thus working upon my susceptible feelings?
+Something very extraordinary is going on here. However, as soon as I
+have been to answer my wife's inquiry, I will return to clear up this
+mystery, and to discover the person whose voice summoned me in such
+haste."
+
+In considerable agitation did M. Pipelet descend, and find himself in
+his wife's presence.
+
+"It is you, then, this time?" inquired he.
+
+"Of course it is me; who did you expect it was?"
+
+"'Tis you, indeed! My senses do not deceive me!"
+
+"Alfred, what is the matter with you? Why do you stand there, staring
+and opening your mouth, as if you meant to swallow me?"
+
+"Because your presence reveals to me that strange things are passing
+here, so strange that--"
+
+"Oh, stuff and nonsense! Give me the key of the lodge! What made you
+leave it when I was out? I have just come from the office where the
+diligence starts from for Normandy. I went there in a coach to take M.
+Bradamanti's trunk, as he did not wish that little rascal, Tortillard,
+to know anything about it, since, it seems, he had rather no one should
+be acquainted with the fact of his leaving Paris this evening; and, as
+for his mistrusting the boy, why, I don't wonder at it."
+
+Saying these words, Madame Pipelet took the key from her husband's hand,
+opened the lodge, and entered it before her partner; but scarcely were
+they both safe within its dark recesses, than an individual, lightly
+descending the staircase, passed swiftly and unobserved before the
+lodge. This personage was Cabrion, who, having managed to steal
+up-stairs, had so powerfully worked upon the porter's tender
+susceptibilities. M. Pipelet threw himself into his chair, saying to his
+wife, in a voice of deep emotion:
+
+"Anastasie; I do not feel myself comfortable to-day; strange and
+mysterious things are going on in this house."
+
+"What! Are you going to break out again? What an old fool you are! Why,
+strange things happen in every house. What has come over you? Come,
+let's look at you! Well, I declare, you are all of a sweat, just as if
+you had been dragged out of the water! What have you been doing since I
+left you? Overexerting yourself, I am sure, and I forbid you ever doing
+so. La! Look how the great drops pour from him, poor old chick!"
+
+"And well they may!" exclaimed M. Pipelet, passing his hand over his
+face, bathed in its own dew; "well may I sweat,--ay, even blood and
+water,--for there are facts connected with this house past belief or
+comprehension. First, you summon me up-stairs, and, at the same moment,
+I find you waiting below! Oh, it is too, too much for my poor brain!"
+
+"Deuce take me, if I can comprehend one word of all you are saying!
+Lord, help us! It is to be hoped your poor old brain is not cracked. I
+tell you what, if you go on so, I shall just set you down for cracked;
+and all through that scamp of a Cabrion,--the devil take him! Ever since
+that last trick he played the other day, I declare you have not been
+yourself, so flustered and bewildered! Do you mean to live in fear and
+dread of that abominable painter all your days?"
+
+But scarcely had Anastasie uttered these words than a fearful thing
+occurred. Alfred continued sitting, with his face turned towards the
+bed, while the lodge was dimly illumined by the faint glimmer of a
+winter's afternoon and a lamp that stood burning on the table, near
+Alfred's work. By these doubtful lights, M. Pipelet, just as his wife
+pronounced the name of Cabrion, imagined he saw, in the shadow of the
+recess, the half stolid, half chuckling features of his enemy. Alas! Too
+truly, there he was. His steeple-crowned hat, his flowing locks, thin
+countenance, sardonic smile, pointed beard, and look of fiendish malice,
+all were there, past all mistake. For a moment, M. Pipelet believed
+himself under the influence of a dream, and passed his hand across his
+eyes, in hopes that the illusion might disperse; but no; there was
+nothing illusive in what his eyes glared so fearfully upon,--nothing
+could be more real or positive. Yet, horror of horrors! This object
+seemed merely to possess a head, which, without allowing any part of the
+body to appear, grinned a satanic smile from the dark draperies of the
+recess in which stood the bed. At this horrific vision M. Pipelet fell
+back, without uttering a word. With uplifted arm he pointed towards the
+source of his terrors, but with so strong a manifestation of intense
+alarm that Madame Pipelet, spite of her usual courage and
+self-possession, could not help feeling a dread of--she knew not what.
+She staggered back a few steps, then, seizing Alfred by the hand,
+exclaimed:
+
+"Cabrion!"
+
+"I know it!" groaned forth M. Pipelet, in a deep, hollow voice, shutting
+his eyes to exclude the frightful spectre.
+
+Nothing could have borne more flattering tribute to the talent which had
+so admirably delineated the features of Cabrion than the overwhelming
+terror his pasteboard likeness occasioned to the worthy couple in the
+lodge; but the first surprise of Anastasie over, she, bold as a lioness,
+rushed to the bed, sprang upon it, and, though not without some
+trepidation, tore the painting from the wall, against which it had been
+nailed; then, crowning her valiant deed by her accustomed favourite
+expression, the amazon triumphantly exclaimed:
+
+"Get along with you!"
+
+Alfred, on the contrary, remained with closed eyes and extended hands,
+fixed and motionless, according to his wont during the most critical
+passages of his life; the continued oscillation of his bell-crowned hat
+alone revealing, from time to time, the violence of his internal
+emotions.
+
+"Open your eyes, my old duck!" cried Madame Pipelet, triumphantly. "It
+is nothing to be afraid of, only a picture, a portrait of that scoundrel
+Cabrion. Look here, lovey,--look at 'Stasie stamping on it!" continued
+the indignant wife, throwing the painting on the ground, and jumping
+upon it with all her force; then added, "Ah, I wish I had the villain
+here, to serve the same! I'll warrant I'd mark him for life!" Then,
+picking up the portrait, she said, "Well, I've served you out, anyhow!
+Just look, old dear, if I haven't!"
+
+But poor Alfred, with a disconsolate shake of the head, made signs that
+he had rather not, and further intimating, by expressive gestures, his
+earnest desire that his wife would remove the detested likeness of his
+bitter foe far from his view.
+
+"Well," cried the porteress, examining the portrait by the aid of the
+lamp, "was there ever such imperance? Why, Alfred, the vile feller has
+presumed to write in red letters at the bottom of the picture, 'To my
+dear friend Pipelet; presented by his friend for life, Cabrion!'"
+
+"For life!" groaned Pipelet; then, heaving a deep sigh, he added, "Yes,
+'tis my life he aims at; and he will finish by taking it. I shall exist,
+from this day forward, in a state of continual alarm, believing that the
+fiend who torments me is ever near,--hid, perhaps, in the floor, the
+wall, the ceiling, and thence watches me throughout the day; or even at
+night, when sleeping in the chaste arms of my wife, his eye is still on
+me. And who can tell but he is at this very instant behind me, gazing
+with that well-known sardonic grin; or crouched down in some corner of
+the room, like a deadly reptile! Say, you monster, are you there? Are
+you there, I demand?" cried M. Pipelet, accompanying this furious
+adjuration by a sort of circular motion of the head, as though wishing
+to interrogate every nook and corner of the lodge.
+
+"Yes, dear friend, here I am!" answered the well-known voice of Cabrion,
+in blandly affectionate tones.
+
+By a simple trick in ventriloquism, these words were made to appear as
+though issuing from the recess in which stood the bed; but the malicious
+joker was in reality close to the door of the lodge, enjoying every
+particular look and word that passed within. However, after uttering the
+last few words, he prudently disappeared with all haste, though not (as
+will be seen) without leaving his victim a fresh subject for rage,
+astonishment, and meditation.
+
+Madame Pipelet, still skeptical and courageous, carefully examined under
+the bed, as well as in every corner of the lodge, but, discovering no
+trace of the enemy, actually went out into the alley to prosecute her
+researches; while M. Pipelet, completely crushed by this last blow,
+fell back into his chair in a state of boundless despair.
+
+"Never mind, Alfred!" said Anastasie, who always exhibited great
+determination upon all critical occasions. "Bless you! The villain had
+managed to hide himself somewhere near the door, and, while we were
+looking in one direction, he managed to slip out in another. But just
+wait a bit: I shall catch him one of these days, and then see if I don't
+make him taste my broomstick! Let him take care, that's all!"
+
+The door opened as she concluded this animating address, and Madame
+Séraphin, the housekeeper of the notary, Jacques Ferrand, entered the
+lodge.
+
+"Good day, Madame Séraphin," said Madame Pipelet, who, in her extreme
+anxiety to conceal her domestic troubles from a stranger, assumed all at
+once a most gracious and winning manner; "what can I have the pleasure
+of doing for you?"
+
+"Why, first of all, tell me what is the meaning of your new sign?"
+
+"Our new sign?"
+
+"Yes; the small printed board."
+
+"Printed board!"
+
+"To be sure; that black board with red letters, hung over the door
+leading from the alley up to your lodge."
+
+"What, out in the street?"
+
+"In the street, I tell you, precisely over your door."
+
+"I wish I may die if I understand a single word of what you are talking
+about! Do you, old dear?"
+
+Alfred spoke not.
+
+"Certainly," continued Madame Séraphin, "since it relates to M. Pipelet,
+he can best explain to me what this board means."
+
+Alfred uttered a sort of heavy, inarticulate groan, while his
+bell-crowned hat recommenced its convulsive agitations. This pantomimic
+action was meant to express that Alfred was in no condition to explain
+anything to anybody, having his mind already sufficiently burdened with
+an infinity of problematical questions he sought in vain to solve.
+
+"Don't take any notice of poor dear Alfred, Madame Séraphin; he has got
+the cramp in his stomach, and that makes him so very--But what is this
+board of which you were speaking? Very likely it has just been put up by
+the man who keeps the wine-shop at the corner."
+
+"I tell you again it is no such thing. It is a small painted board, hung
+up over your door,--I mean the door leading from the alley to the
+street."
+
+"Ah, you are laughing at us!"
+
+"Indeed I am not. I saw it just now, as I came in; on it is written, in
+large letters, 'Pipelet and Cabrion, dealers in Friendship and similar
+Articles. Inquire of the Porter.'"
+
+"Gracious goodness! Do you hear that, Alfred? Do you hear what is
+written up over our door?"
+
+Alfred gazed at Madame Séraphin with a bewildered look, but he neither
+understood nor sought to understand her meaning.
+
+"Do you mean to say," continued Madame Pipelet, confounded by this fresh
+audacity, "that you positively saw a little board out in the street with
+all that about Alfred and Cabrion, and dealing in friendship?"
+
+"I tell you I have just seen it, and read with my own eyes what I
+described to you. 'Well,' said I to myself, 'this is droll enough! M.
+Pipelet is a shoemaker by trade, but here he writes up publicly that he
+is a dealer in friendship along with a M. Cabrion! What can all this
+mean? There is something meant more than meets the eye!' Still, as the
+board further directed all persons desirous of knowing more to apply to
+the porter, 'Oh,' thinks I, 'Madame Pipelet can explain all this to me!'
+But, look, look!" cried Madame Séraphin, suddenly breaking off in her
+remarks. "Your husband is taken ill! Mind what you are about, or he will
+fall backwards!"
+
+Madame Pipelet flew to her afflicted partner, and was just in time to
+receive him, half fainting, in her arms. The last blow had been too
+overwhelming,--the man in the bell-crowned hat had but just strength
+left to murmur forth, "The scoundrel has, then, publicly placarded me!"
+
+"I told you, Madame Séraphin, that poor Alfred was suffering dreadful
+with the cramp in his stomach, besides being worried to death by a
+crack-brained vagabond, who is at him night and day: he'll be the death
+of my poor old duck at last. Never mind, darling, I've got a nice little
+drop of aniseed to give you; so drink it, and see if you can't shake
+your old feathers and be yourself again!"
+
+Thanks to the timely application of Madame Pipelet's infallible remedy,
+Alfred gradually recovered his senses; but, alas, scarcely was he
+restored to full consciousness ere he was subjected to another and
+equally cruel trial of his feelings!
+
+An individual of middle age, respectably dressed, and possessing a
+countenance so simple, or rather so silly, as to render it impossible to
+suspect him of any malice prepense or intended irony, opened the upper
+and glazed part of the lodge door, saying, with the most genuine air of
+mystification:
+
+"I have just read on a small board placed over the door, at the entrance
+to the alley, the following words: 'Pipelet and Cabrion, dealers in
+Friendship and similar Articles. Inquire of the Porter.' Will you oblige
+me by explaining the meaning of those words, if you are, as I presume
+you to be, the porter in question?"
+
+"The meaning!" exclaimed M. Pipelet, in a voice of thunder, and giving
+vent at length to his so long restrained indignation; "the meaning is
+simply, sir-r-r, that M. Cabrion is an infamous scoundrel,--an
+impostor!"
+
+The simple-looking interrogator drew back, in dread of the consequences
+that might follow this sudden and furious burst of wrath, while, wrought
+up to a state of fury, Alfred leaned over the half door of the lodge,
+his glaring eyeballs and clenched hands indicating the intensity of his
+feelings; while the figures of Madame Séraphin and Anastasie were dimly
+revealed amid the murky shades of the small room.
+
+"Let me tell you, sir-r-r!" cried M. Pipelet, addressing the
+placid-looking man at the door, "that I have no dealings with that
+beggar Cabrion, and certainly none in the way of friendship!"
+
+"No, that I'm sure you have not!" screamed out Madame Pipelet, in
+confirmation of her husband's words; adding, as she displayed her
+forbidding countenance over her husband's shoulder, "and I wonder very
+much where that old dunderhead has come from to ask such a stupid
+question?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, madame," said the guileless-looking individual thus
+addressed, again withdrawing another step to escape the concentrated
+anger of the enraged pair; "placards are made to be read,--you put out a
+board, which I read,--now allow me to say that I am not to blame for
+perusing what you set up purposely to attract attention, but that you
+are decidedly wrong to insult me so grossly when I civilly come to you,
+as your own board desires, for information."
+
+"Oh, you old fool! Get along with you!" exclaimed Anastasie, with a most
+hideous distortion of visage.
+
+"You are a rude, unmannerly woman!"
+
+"Alfred, deary, just fetch me your boot-jack: I'll give that old
+chatterer such a mark that his own mother shall not know her darling
+again!"
+
+"Really, madame, I can't say I understand receiving such rough treatment
+when I come, by your own directions, to make inquiries respecting what
+you or your husband have publicly notified in the streets."
+
+"But, sir-r-r--!" cried the unhappy porter.
+
+"Sir!" interrupted the hitherto placid inquirer, now worked up into
+extreme rage, "Sir! You may carry your friendship with your M. Cabrion
+as far as you please, but, give me leave to tell you, you have no
+business to parade yourself or your friendships in the face of everybody
+in the streets. And I think it right, sir, to let you know a bit of my
+mind; which is, that you are a boasting braggart, and that I shall go at
+once and lay a formal complaint against you at the police office."
+Saying which, the individual departed in an apparently towering passion.
+
+"Anastasie," moaned out poor Pipelet, in a dolorous voice, "I shall
+never survive all this! I feel but too surely that I am struck with
+death,--I have not a hope of escape! You hear my name is publicly
+exposed in the open streets, in company with that scoundrel's! He has
+dared to placard the hideous tale of my having entered into a treaty of
+friendship with him! And the innocent, unsuspecting public will read the
+hateful statement--remember it--repeat it--spread the detestable report!
+Oh, monstrous, enormous, devilish invention! None but a fiend could have
+had such a thought. But there must be an end to this. The measure is
+full,--ay, to overflowing; and things have come to such a pass that
+either this accursed painter or myself must perish in the deadly
+struggle!" And, wrought up to such a state of vigorous resolution as to
+completely conquer his usual apathy, M. Pipelet seized the portrait of
+Cabrion and rushed towards the door.
+
+"Where are you going, Alfred?" screamed the wife.
+
+"To the commissary of police, and, at the same time, to tear down that
+vile board! Then, bearing the board in one hand and the portrait in the
+other, I will cry aloud to the commissary, 'Defend, avenge an injured
+man! Deliver me from Cabrion!'"
+
+"So do, old darling! There, hold up your head and pluck up courage! And
+I tell you what, if the board is too high for you to reach, ask the man
+at the wine-shop to lend you his small ladder. That blackguard of a
+Cabrion! I only wish I had him in my power, I'd fry him for half an hour
+in my largest stew-pan! Why, scores of people have been publicly
+executed who did not deserve death a quarter as much as he does! The
+villain! I should like to see him just ready to have the guillotine
+dropped upon his head. Wouldn't I give him my blessing in a friendly
+way? A rascal!"
+
+Alfred, amid all his woes, yet displayed a rare magnanimity, contrasting
+strongly with the vindictive spirit of his partner.
+
+"No, no," said he; "spite of the wrongs he has done me, I would not,
+even if his life were in my power, 'demand his head!'"
+
+"But I would! I would! I would!" vociferated the ferocious Anastasie.
+"If he had fifty heads, I would demand every one of them! I would not
+leave him one! But go along; make haste, Alfred, and set the commissary
+of police to work upon him."
+
+"No," cried Alfred, "I desire not his blood; but I have a right to
+demand the perpetual imprisonment of this malicious being. My repose
+requires it,--my health peremptorily calls for it. The laws of my
+country must either grant me this reparation for all I have suffered, or
+I quit France. Yes, beautiful and beloved France! I turn my back on you
+for ever! And that is all an ungrateful nation would gain by neglecting
+to heal the wounds of my tortured mind;" and, bending beneath the weight
+of his grief, Alfred majestically quitted the lodge, like one of the
+ancient victims of all-conquering Fatality.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+CECILY.
+
+
+Before we introduce the reader to the conversation between Madame
+Séraphin and Madame Pipelet, we must premise that Anastasie, without
+entertaining the very slightest suspicion of the virtue and piety of the
+notary, felt the greatest indignation at the severity manifested by him
+in the case both of Louise Morel and M. Germain; and, as a natural
+consequence, the angry porteress included Madame Séraphin in the same
+censure; but still, like a skilful politician, Madame Pipelet, for
+reasons we shall hereafter explain, concealed her dislike to the
+_femme-de-charge_ under the appearance of the greatest cordiality. After
+having explicitly declared her extreme disapprobation of the conduct
+pursued by Cabrion, Madame Séraphin went on to say:
+
+"By the way, what has become of M. Bradamanti Polidori? I wrote to him
+yesterday evening, but got no reply; this morning I came to see him, but
+he was not to be found. I trust I shall be more fortunate this time."
+
+Madame Pipelet affected the most lively regret.
+
+"Really," cried she, "you are doomed to be unlucky!"
+
+"How so?"
+
+"M. Bradamanti has not yet returned."
+
+"Upon my word, this is enough to tire a saint!"
+
+"So it is, I declare, Madame Séraphin. I'm sure I'm as sorry about it as
+if it was my own self."
+
+"I had so much to say to him."
+
+"It is all for the world as though you were bewitched!"
+
+"Why, yes, it is so much the more vexatious, because I have to find all
+manner of excuses to run down here; for, if once M. Ferrand were to find
+out that I came to consult a quack doctor, he who is so devout, so
+scrupulous in all things, we should have a fearful scene!"
+
+"La! He is just like Alfred, who is so silly that really he is afraid of
+everything and everybody!"
+
+"And you do not know, I suppose, when M. Bradamanti will return home?"
+
+"No, not precisely; but I know very well that he expects some one about
+six or seven o'clock this evening, for he told me to request the person
+to call again, should he not be at home at the time mentioned. So, if
+you will call again in the evening, you will be sure to see him."
+
+But, as Anastasie said these words, she mentally added, "I would not
+have you too sure of that; in an hour's time he will be on his road to
+Normandy!"
+
+"Very well, then," said Madame Séraphin, with an air of considerable
+chagrin. Then, pausing a brief space, she added, "I had also something
+to say to you, my dear Madame Pipelet. You know, I suppose, what
+happened to that girl, Louise Morel, whom everybody thought so good and
+virtuous--"
+
+"Oh, pray don't mention her!" replied Madame Pipelet, rolling her eyes
+with affected horror. "It makes one's hair stand on end."
+
+"I merely alluded to her by way of saying that we are now quite without
+a servant, and that, if you should chance to hear of a well-disposed,
+honest, and industrious young person, I should take it as a favour if
+you would send her to us. Upon my word, girls of good character are so
+difficult to be met with that one had need search in twenty places at
+once to find one."
+
+"Depend upon it, Madame Séraphin, that, should I hear of anybody likely
+to suit you, I will let you know; but, in my opinion, good situations
+are more rare even than good servants." Then, again relapsing into a fit
+of abstraction, Anastasie added, though mentally, "A likely story that I
+should send any young girl to be starved to death in your dungeon of a
+house; your master is too stingy and hard-hearted! The idea of throwing
+that poor Louise and M. Germain both in prison!"
+
+"I need not tell you," continued Madame Séraphin, "what a still, quiet
+house ours is; any young person must be improved by living in a family
+where there is continually something to be learned; and that Louise must
+have been naturally a depraved creature, to turn out badly spite of the
+good and religious advice bestowed on her by M. Ferrand."
+
+"No doubt; but depend upon it that, directly I hear of a young person
+likely to suit you, I will be sure to let you know."
+
+"There is just one thing more I should like to mention," resumed Madame
+Séraphin, "and that is, that M. Ferrand would greatly prefer taking a
+person who had no relatives or friends, because then, you understand,
+having no motive for wishing to go out, she would be less exposed to
+danger, neither would her mind be so likely to be upset; so that, if you
+should happen to meet with an orphan, I think M. Ferrand would prefer
+taking her, in the first place, because it would be doing a good action;
+and, secondly, as, having neither friends nor followers, she could not
+have any excuse for wishing to go out. I assure you that wretched girl,
+Louise, gave M. Ferrand a severe lesson, I can tell you, Madame Pipelet,
+and one that will make him very careful what sort of a servant he
+engages. Only imagine such a scandalous affair occurring in a house like
+ours! Dreadful! Well, then, I will call again this evening to see M.
+Bradamanti, and, at the same time, I can have a little conversation with
+Mother Burette."
+
+"Then I will say adieu, Madame Séraphin, till this evening, when you
+will be quite sure of finding M. Bradamanti."
+
+Madame Séraphin returned the salutation, and quitted the lodge.
+
+"What a deuce of a worry she is in about Bradamanti!" said Madame
+Pipelet, when her visitor had disappeared. "I wonder what she wants with
+him? And then, too, M. Bradamanti is just as anxious to avoid seeing her
+before he starts for Normandy. I was dreadfully afraid she meant to
+stick here till he did return home, and that would have been the more
+awkward, as M. Bradamanti expects the same lady who came last night; I
+could not manage to have a squint at her then, but I am determined
+to-night to stare her regularly out of countenance, like I did the lady
+who came on the sly to visit my five-farthing commandant. Ah, the screw!
+the nipcheese! He has never ventured to show his face here since.
+However, by way of teaching him better, I shall make good use of his
+wood; yes, yes, my fine gentleman, it shall keep the lodge warm, as well
+as air your shut-up apartments. A disappointed puppy! Ha, ha, ha! Go,
+and be hanged with your paltry twelve francs a month! Better learn to
+pay people honest wages, than go flaunting about in a bright green
+dressing-gown, like a great lanky grasshopper! But who the plague can
+this lady of M. Bradamanti's be, I wonder? Is she respectable, or
+t'other? I should like to know, for I am as curious as a magpie; but
+that is not my fault; I am as God made me, so I can't help it. I know
+one's disposition is born with us, and so the blame does not lie at my
+door. Stop a bit; I've just thought of a capital plan to find out who
+this lady really is; and, what's more, I'll engage it turns out
+successful. Who is that I see coming? Ah, my king of lodgers! Your
+servant, M. Rodolph!" cried Madame Pipelet, saluting him, after the
+military fashion, by placing the back of her left hand to her wig.
+
+It was, in truth, Rodolph, who, as yet ignorant of the death of M.
+d'Harville, approached gaily, saying:
+
+"Good day to you, Madame Pipelet! Can you tell me if Mlle. Rigolette is
+at home? I have something to say to her, if she is."
+
+"At home, poor girl! Why, when is she ever out? When does she lose an
+hour, or idle instead of working?"
+
+"And how gets on Morel's unfortunate wife? Does she appear more
+reconciled to her misfortunes?"
+
+"Yes, M. Rodolph, I am glad to say she does; and how can she be
+otherwise, when, thanks to you, or the generous friend whose agent you
+are, she is supplied with every comfort, both for herself and her
+children, who are as happy as fishes in the sea? Why, they want for
+nothing; they have good air, good food, good fires, and good beds, with
+a nurse to take care of them, besides Mlle. Rigolette, who, although
+working like a little busy bee, and without seeming to take part in
+their proceedings, never loses sight of them, bless you! And they have
+had a black doctor to see them, who says he comes from you. 'Well,' says
+I, when I looked at him, 'you are a funny one for a doctor, you are! I
+suppose, Mr. Nigger, you are physician to a company of charcoalmen,
+because there is no fear of your blacking your hands when you feel their
+pulse?' But la, M. Rodolph, I'm only joking! For what difference does
+colour make? Leastways your blacky seems to be a first-rate clever man,
+spite of his dingy face, for the first thing he did was to order a
+composing draught for Morel's wife, which did her a world of good!"
+
+"Poor thing! I doubt not she is still very miserable?"
+
+"Why, yes, M. Rodolph, naturally enough she is, for she has plenty of
+grief before her: her husband in a madhouse, and her daughter in prison!
+Ah, that poor Louise! That is the sorest of her heartaches; such a blow
+as that to an honest family, such as theirs has always been, is not to
+be got over so easily. And that Madame Séraphin, housekeeper to the
+notary, who has caused all this misery, has just been here, saying all
+manner of cruel things about the poor girl. If I had not had my own game
+to play, she should not have told the tale quite her own way; but I've
+got a pill for her to swallow by and by, so I'll let her off easy. Why,
+only conceive her assurance in coming to ask me if I could not recommend
+her some young person to supply the place of Louise in the establishment
+of that old brute of a notary. What a blessed pair the master and his
+housekeeper are! Just fancy their preferring an orphan, if they can
+obtain one, to be their servant! Don't you see through that, M. Rodolph?
+They pretend that their reason for wishing for an orphan is, because,
+having neither parents nor friends, she would never wish to go out, and
+would be more free from interruption; but that is not it, that is all a
+fudge; the truth is, they think that, if they could get a poor,
+friendless girl into their clutches, having nobody to see her righted,
+they could cheat her out of her wages as much as they liked. Now is not
+that true, M. Rodolph?"
+
+"No doubt," replied the person addressed, with the air of one who is
+thinking deeply on a subject.
+
+The information thus afforded him as to Madame Séraphin seeking an
+orphan girl, to replace Louise as servant in the family of M. Ferrand,
+appeared to present the almost certain means of accomplishing the just
+punishment of the notary; and, while Madame Pipelet was yet speaking, he
+was arranging every point of the part he had mentally destined for
+Cecily, whom he purposed making the principal instrument in effecting
+the retributive justice he meant to inflict on the vile persecutor of
+Louise Morel.
+
+"Oh, I was quite sure you would be of my opinion," continued Madame
+Pipelet, "and that you would agree with me in thinking that their only
+reason for desiring to engage an orphan girl is, that they may do her
+out of her wages; and, I can tell you, I would sooner drop down dead
+than send any poor, friendless creature to such a house! Certainly, I
+don't happen to know of any one, but, if I knew of fifty, they should
+not enter into such a wretched house, if I could hinder them. Don't you
+think I'm right, M. Rodolph?"
+
+"Madame Pipelet, will you do me a great favour?"
+
+"Do you a favour, M. Rodolph? Lord love your heart and soul! Just say
+what there is I can do for you, and then see whether I will or no. Come,
+what is it? Shall I jump into the fire? or curl my best wig with boiling
+oil? or is there anybody I can worry, bite, pinch, or scold for you?
+Only say the word. I am wholly at your service, heart and body, your
+most humble slave; always stipulating that in my service there shall be
+no offence to Alfred's prior claims on me."
+
+"Oh, my dear Madame Pipelet, make yourself perfectly easy! I want you to
+manage a little affair for me, which is this: I have got to place out a
+young orphan girl, who is utterly a stranger to Paris; and I wish very
+much, with your assistance, to obtain for her the situation vacant in M.
+Ferrand's establishment."
+
+"You don't mean it? La, I never can think you are in earnest! What! Send
+a poor, friendless girl to live with such a miserly wretch as that
+hard-hearted old notary? No, no, M. Rodolph, that was not what you
+wanted me to do, I'm sure!"
+
+"But, indeed, it is; why, a place is a place, and, if the young person I
+mentioned to you should not like it, she is not obliged to stay there;
+and then, don't you see, she would at once be able to maintain herself,
+while I should have no further uneasiness about her?"
+
+"Oh, as far as that goes, M. Rodolph, it is your affair, not mine; and,
+whatever happens, remember I warned you. If, after all you have heard,
+you still think the place would suit your young friend, why, of course,
+you can please yourself; and, then, to be sure, as far as regards the
+notary, there are always two sides to every picture, a for and against
+to every tale; he is hard-hearted as a flint-stone, obstinate as a
+jackass, bigoted as a Jesuit, that's true enough; but then he is of the
+most scrupulous punctuality in all his affairs; he gives very low wages,
+but, then, he pays on the nail; the living is very bad at his house,
+still it is the same one day as another. In a word, though it is a house
+where a servant must work like a horse, yet, at the same time, it is one
+of those dull, quiet, stupid places, where there is certainly nothing to
+tempt a girl to get into mischief. Certainly, Louise managed to go
+wrong, but that was all a chance."
+
+"Madame Pipelet, I am going to confide a great secret to your honour."
+
+"Well, then, upon the word and honour of Anastasie Pipelet, whose maiden
+name was Gulimard, as true as there is a God and heaven, and that Alfred
+always wears green coats, I will be silent as a stockfish!"
+
+"You must not breathe a word to M. Pipelet."
+
+"That I won't, I swear by the head of that dear old duck himself, if it
+relates to a proper and correct affair."
+
+"Surely, Madame Pipelet, you have too good an opinion of me to suppose,
+for a minute, that I would insult your chaste ears with anything that
+was not?"
+
+"Well, then, go it! Let's know all about it, and, I promise you, Alfred
+shall never be the wiser, be it what it may. Bless you! he is as easy to
+cheat as a child of six years old."
+
+"I rely implicitly on you; therefore listen to my words."
+
+"I will, my king of lodgers; and remember that we are now sworn friends
+for life or for death. So go on with your story."
+
+"The young person I spoke to you about has, unfortunately, committed one
+serious fault."
+
+"I was sure of it! Why, Lord bless you, if I had not married Alfred when
+I was fifteen years of age, I dare say I should have committed, fifties
+and hundreds of faults! I? There, just as you see. I was like a barrel
+of gunpowder at the very sight or mention of a smart young fellow.
+Luckily for me, Pipelet extinguished the warmth of my nature in the
+coolness of his own virtue; if he had not, I can't say what might have
+happened, for I did dearly love the gay deceivers! I merely mention this
+to say that, if the young person has only done wrong once, then there
+are great hopes of her."
+
+"I trust, indeed, she will atone for her past misconduct. She was living
+in service, in Germany, with a relation of mine, and the partner of her
+crime was the son of this relative. Do you understand?"
+
+"Do I? Don't I? Go along with you! I understand as well as though I had
+committed the fault myself."
+
+"The angry mistress, upon discovering her servant's guilt, drove her
+from her house; but the young man was weak enough to quit his paternal
+roof, and to bring the unfortunate girl to Paris."
+
+"Well, la, M. Rodolph! What else could you expect? Why, young people
+will be young people. I'm sure I--"
+
+"After this act of folly came stern reflection, rendered still more
+severe by the fact of the slender stock of money he possessed being
+exhausted. In this dilemma, my young relation applied to me; and I
+consented to furnish him with the means of returning home, on condition
+of his leaving behind him the companion of his flight, whom I undertook
+to place out in some respectable capacity."
+
+"Well, I declare, I could not have done more for a son, if it had
+pleased Heaven--and Pipelet--that I should have had one!"
+
+"I am delighted that you approve of my conduct; still, as the young girl
+is a stranger, and has no one to give her a recommendation, I fear it
+will be rather difficult to get her placed. Now, if you would tell
+Madame Séraphin that a relation of yours, living in Germany, has sent
+her to you, with a very excellent character, the notary would, possibly,
+take her into his service; and I should be doubly delighted. Cecily (for
+that is her name), having only once gone astray, would, doubtless, soon
+regain the right path in a house as severe and saintly as that of the
+notary's; and it is for that reason I am desirous of seeing the poor
+girl enter into the service of M. Ferrand; and, of course, if introduced
+by so respectable a person as yourself, Madame Pipelet, there would be
+no fear of her obtaining the place."
+
+"Oh, M. Rodolph!"
+
+"Yes, indeed, my good madame, I am sure that one word from so justly
+esteemed an individual as you--"
+
+"Oh, my king of lodgers!"
+
+"I repeat that, if you would patronise the young girl so far as to
+introduce her to Madame Séraphin, I have no fears but that she would be
+accepted; whereas, you know, if I were to accompany her to the notary's
+house--"
+
+"I see what you mean; to be sure, it would look just as queer as if I
+were to introduce a young man. Well, I will do what you wish; it will be
+serving old Séraphin out as she deserves. I can tell you I have had a
+crow to pluck with her a long time, and this seems a famous way of
+serving her out; besides, it's a good lark, any way. So look upon the
+thing as done, M. Rodolph. I'll cram the old woman well. I will tell her
+that a relation of my own, long established in Germany, has just died,
+as well as her husband, leaving a daughter wholly dependent on me."
+
+"Capital! Well, then, without saying anything more to Madame Séraphin,
+you shall take Cecily to M. Ferrand. All you will have to say is, that,
+not having seen or heard anything of your relation during the last
+twenty years, you consider it best to let her speak for herself."
+
+"Ah, but then, if the girl only jabbers German?"
+
+"I assure you she speaks French perfectly well. I will give her proper
+instructions, therefore you need do nothing more than strongly recommend
+her to Madame Séraphin,--or, stay, upon second thoughts, perhaps you had
+better not say any more than you have done on the subject, for fear she
+should suspect you want to force the girl upon her. You know that,
+frequently, the very asking a thing produces a refusal."
+
+"I should think I did, too! Why, that was the way I got rid of all the
+flattering lovers that came about me. If they had never asked me a
+favour, I don't know what I might have done."
+
+"It is always the case; therefore say nothing more to Madame Séraphin
+than just this, that Cecily is an orphan, and a stranger here, very
+young and very pretty, that she will be a heavy burden to you, and that
+you are not particularly fond of her, in consequence of having long
+since quarrelled with her mother, and, consequently, not retaining a
+very great affection for the charge bequeathed to your care."
+
+"What a deep one you are! But never mind, there's a pair of us! I say,
+M. Rodolph, is it not odd you and I should understand each other so
+well? Ah, we two should have suited one another to a hair! Gracious, M.
+Rodolph, when I think what might have happened, if we had chanced to
+have met when I was such a tender-hearted, susceptible young creature,
+and so fond of handsome young men,--don't you fancy we should have
+seemed like made for one another,--eh, M. Rodolph?"
+
+"Hush! Suppose M. Pipelet--"
+
+"I forgot him, poor old duck! His brain is half turned since this last
+abominable prank of Cabrion's; but I'll tell you about that another
+time. As for your young relation, make yourself quite easy; I will
+undertake to play my part so well that old Séraphin shall come to me,
+and beg to have her as a servant."
+
+"And if you succeed, Madame Pipelet, I have one hundred francs quite at
+your service. I am not rich, but--"
+
+"Are you making fun of me, M. Rodolph, or do you imagine I am doing what
+I do for the sake of gain? I declare to God it's out of nothing but pure
+friendship! One hundred francs! That's handsome, however!"
+
+"Why, I consider it but an act of justice, as well as gratitude, to
+offer you a sum which, if left several months on my hands, the girl must
+soon have cost me."
+
+"Ah, well, then, since I can serve you by accepting your hundred francs,
+of course I have no further objection, M. Rodolph; but we drew a famous
+prize in the lottery when you came into the house, and I don't care who
+hears me say it, for I'd as lief cry it on the housetops. You are the
+very prince and king of good lodgers! Halloa, there is a hackney-coach!
+No doubt, the lady M. Bradamanti expects; I could not manage to see her
+well when she came yesterday, but I'll have a precious good stare at her
+this time; added to which, I've got a capital plan for finding out her
+name. Come, you shall see me go to work; it will be a famous lark for
+us!"
+
+"No, I thank you, Madame Pipelet; I have not the slightest curiosity
+respecting either the name or features of this lady," returned Rodolph,
+withdrawing to the very end of the lodge.
+
+"Where do you wish to go, madame?" cried Anastasie, rushing towards the
+female, who was entering.
+
+"I am going to M. Bradamanti's," returned the person addressed, visibly
+annoyed at having her progress thus arrested.
+
+"He is not at home."
+
+"You are mistaken."
+
+"Oh, no, I am not!" said the porteress, skilfully contriving so to place
+herself as to command a perfect view of the stranger's features. "M.
+Bradamanti has gone out, positively, absolutely gone out; that is to
+say, he is not at home, except to one lady."
+
+"'Tis I, he expects me; and pray, my good woman, allow me to pass; you
+are really troublesome!"
+
+"Your name, madame, if you please? I shall soon see if it is the name of
+the person M. Bradamanti desired me to admit. Should yours not be the
+right name, you don't go up-stairs, unless you first trample on my
+body!"
+
+"Is it possible he could be so imprudent as to tell you my name?" cried
+the female, with as much surprise as uneasiness.
+
+"Certainly he did, madame, or how should I know it?"
+
+"How very thoughtless!" murmured the stranger. Then, after a momentary
+hesitation, she said, impatiently, in a low voice, and as if fearful of
+being overheard, "My name is D'Orbigny."
+
+Rodolph started at the word, as it reached his ear, for it was the name
+of Madame d'Harville's mother-in-law. Advancing, therefore, from the
+dark corner in which he stood, he managed, by the light of the lamp, to
+obtain a clear view of the stranger, in whose features he easily traced
+the portrait so skilfully drawn by Clémence of the author of all her
+sufferings.
+
+"Madame d'Orbigny!" repeated Madame Pipelet, in a loud tone. "Ah, then
+you may go up-stairs; that is the name M. Bradamanti gave me."
+
+Madame d'Harville's mother-in-law waited for no second bidding, but
+rapidly passed by the lodge.
+
+"Well done us!" shouted the porteress, with a triumphant air; "I have
+caught my fish, done the great lady! Now, then, I know her name,--she is
+Madame d'Orbigny. That wasn't a bad scheme of mine, was it, M. Rodolph?
+But what the plague is the matter with you? How sad and thoughtful you
+have grown all of a minute!"
+
+"This lady has been to see M. Bradamanti before, has she not?"
+
+"Yes, she was here yesterday evening; and, directly she was gone, M.
+Bradamanti went out, most probably, to take his place in the diligence
+for to-day, because, when he came back, he asked me to take his trunk to
+the coach office, as he could not trust that little rascal, Tortillard."
+
+"And do you know where M. Bradamanti is going?"
+
+"To Normandy, by way of Alençon."
+
+Rodolph called to his remembrance that Aubiers, the seat of M.
+d'Orbigny, was situated in Normandy. There was no longer a doubt that
+the charlatan was proceeding to the paternal home of Clémence, and, as a
+matter of course, to aid and assist in some scheme of wickedness.
+
+"The departure of M. Bradamanti will put old Séraphin out preciously!"
+resumed Madame Pipelet. "I can't make out what she wants with him; but
+she seems as much bent upon seeing him as he is on avoiding her; for he
+charged me particularly not to tell her that he leaves Paris to-night at
+six o'clock. So, when she calls again, she will find nobody at home;
+that will give me an opportunity of talking to her about your young
+person. Let's see, what is her name? Cissy--"
+
+"Cecily!"
+
+"Ah, I see! Just clap two more letters to the word I said,--that'll do.
+I must tie a knot in the corner of my handkerchief, that I may be able
+to recollect this bother of a name. Ciss--Cissy--Cecily--I've got it!"
+
+"Well, now, I think it is time for me to visit Mlle. Rigolette," said
+Rodolph to Madame Pipelet, as he quitted the lodge.
+
+"And when you come down-stairs, M. Rodolph, I hope you will just speak a
+word or two to my dear old darling of a husband. He has had a deal of
+trouble lately, and I know it will be a great relief to him to tell you
+all about it. That beast of a Cabrion has been at his old tricks
+again!"
+
+"Be assured, Madame Pipelet, I shall always be ready to sympathise with
+your worthy husband in all his troubles."
+
+And with these words Rodolph, strangely preoccupied with the recent
+visit of Madame d'Orbigny to Polidori, slowly pursued his way to the
+apartment of Mlle. Rigolette.
+
+
+END OF VOLUME III.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+
+This e-text was prepared from numbered edition 505 of the 1000 printed.
+
+Minor punctuation and capitalization corrections have been made without
+comment.
+
+Minor typographical errors of single words, otherwise spelled correctly
+throughout the text have been made without comment.
+
+Contents, corrected printers error of Chapter III page reference from
+page 109 to page 108.
+
+p. 26, removed duplicate "and" (strictly and expressly forbidden)
+
+p. 86, changed "ask" to "asked" ("...on the spot?" asked Rodolph.)
+
+Word Variations appearing in the original text which have been retained:
+
+"Duchess" and "Duchesse"
+"good-by" and "good-bye"
+"Halloa" and "Holloa"
+"Saint-Remy" and "Saint Rémy"
+
+Words using the [oe] ligature, which have been herein represented as
+"oe": "subpoenaed", "_chef-d'oeuvre_", "phoenix", "Bureau des
+Moeurs"
+
+Throughout the text, illustrations and their captions were placed on
+facing pages. For the purpose of this e-text these pages have been
+combined into one entry.
+
+Footnotes, originally at the bottom of a printed page, have been placed
+directly below the paragraph in which their anchor symbol appears.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 3 of 6, by
+Eugčne Sue
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS, V.3 ***
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