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diff --git a/33803-h/33803-h.htm b/33803-h/33803-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b3b727 --- /dev/null +++ b/33803-h/33803-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15248 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Mysteries of Paris, by +Eugene Sue. (In Six Volumes, Volume IV.) + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1 {margin-left: 1em; + margin-right: auto; + text-align: left; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 0; +} + + h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +div.frontmatter {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; + margin-top: 0; padding-top: 3em; + clear: both; max-width: 24em; } +div.tns {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + +p.title {margin-left: 5em; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 3em; + font-size: 110%; text-align: left;} +p.volume {text-align: center; padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 3em;} +p.edition {text-align: center; font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold;} +p.ending {margin: auto; padding-top: 2em; font-size: 90%; font-weight: bold; + text-align: center;} +p.indent {text-indent: 1em;} +p.sigs {margin-top: 0; text-align: right; padding-right: 1.5em;} + +.tr { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 5%; + margin-bottom: 5%; + padding: 1em; + background-color: #f6f2f2; + color: black; + border: dotted black 1px; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +td.tcol1 {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em; vertical-align: top;} +td.tcol2 {text-align: left; padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -2em; padding-right: 2em; vertical-align: top;} +td.tcol3 {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allcaps {font-size: 90%;} + +.pad8 {padding-left: 8em;} + +.artist {font-size: 80%;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i0h {display: block; margin-left: .25em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 4 of 6, by Eugène 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 4 of 6 + +Author: Eugène Sue + +Illustrators: G. Mercier + Bicknell + Léon Poiteau + Adrian Marcel + +Release Date: September 22, 2010 [EBook #33803] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS, V.4 *** + + + + +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) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="500" height="324" alt="The Abduction. +Original Etching by Mercier." title="The Abduction" /> +<span class="caption"><i>The Abduction.</i><br /> +<span class="artist">Original Etching by Mercier.</span></span> +</div> + + + + +<div class="frontmatter"> +<h1>The Mysteries of Paris.</h1> + +<p class="title"><i>ILLUSTRATED WITH ETCHINGS<br /> +BY MERCIER, BICKNELL, POITEAU,<br /> +AND ADRIAN MARCEL.</i><br /> +<span class="pad8"><span class="smcap"><i>By</i></span> <i>EUGENE SUE</i></span></p> + + +<p class="volume"><i>IN SIX VOLUMES<br /> +VOLUME IV.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><i>PRINTED FOR<br /> +FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO.<br /> +BOSTON</i></p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="edition"><i>Edition De Luxe.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>This edition is limited to one thousand copies, +of which this is</i></p> + +<p class="edition"><i>No.______</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="tcol1">CHAPTER</td><td class="tcol2"> </td><td class="tcol3">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">I.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">Rigolette's First Sorrow</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">II.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Will</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">III.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">L'Ile du Ravageur</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">IV.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Freshwater Pirate</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">V.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Mother and Son</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">VI.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">François and Amandine</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">VII.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">A Lodging-house</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1"> VIII.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Victims of Misplaced Confidence</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">IX.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Rue de Chaillot</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">X.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Comte de Saint-Remy</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">XI.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Interview</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">XII.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Search</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1"> XIII.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Adieux</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">XIV.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">Recollections</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">XV.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Boats</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">XVI.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Happiness of Meetings</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1"> XVII.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">Doctor Griffon</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">XVIII.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Portrait</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">XIX.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Agent of Safety</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol1">XX.</td><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The Chouette</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#Page_321">321</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td class="tcol2"> </td><td class="tcol3">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The abduction</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">The brigand dashed at his brother</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#image87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">He exhibited such ferocious joy</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#image168">168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcol2"><span class="smcap">Was about to embrace his father</span></td><td class="tcol3"><a href="#image199">199</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_MYSTERIES_OF_PARIS" id="THE_MYSTERIES_OF_PARIS"></a>THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h5>RIGOLETTE'S FIRST SORROW.</h5> + + +<p>Rigolette's apartment was still in all its extreme +nicety; the large silver watch placed over the mantelpiece, +in a small boxwood stand, denoted the hour of +four. The severe cold weather having ceased, the thrifty +little needlewoman had not lighted her stove.</p> + +<p>From the window, a corner of blue sky was scarcely +perceptible over the masses of irregularly built roofs, +garrets, and tall chimneys, which bounded the horizon +on the other side of the street. Suddenly a sunbeam, +which, as it were, wandered for a moment between two +high gables, came for an instant to purple with its +bright rays the windows of the young girl's chamber.</p> + +<p>Rigolette was at work, seated by her window; and the +soft shadow of her charming profile stood out from +the transparent light of the glass as a cameo of rosy +whiteness on a silver ground. Brilliant hues played on +her jet black hair, twisted in a knot at the back of her +head, and shaded with a warm amber colour the ivory +of her industrious little fingers, which plied the needle +with incomparable activity. The long folds of her brown +gown, confined at the waist by the bands of her green +apron, half concealed her straw-seated chair, and her +pretty feet rested on the edge of a stool before her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>Like a rich lord, who sometimes amuses himself in +hiding the walls of a cottage beneath splendid hangings, +the setting sun for a moment lighted up this little +chamber with a thousand dazzling fires, throwing his +golden tints on the curtains of gray and green stuff, +and making the walnut-tree furniture glisten with brightness, +and the dry-rubbed floor look like heated copper; +whilst it encircled in a wire-work of gold the grisette's +bird-cage. But, alas! in spite of the exciting splendour +of this sun-ray, the two canaries (male and female) +flitted about uneasily, and, contrary to their usual habit, +did not sing a note. This was because, contrary to her +usual habit, Rigolette did not sing. The three never +warbled without one another; almost invariably the +cheerful and matin song of the latter called forth that +of the birds, who, more lazy, did not leave their nests as +early as their mistress. Then there were rivalries,—contentions +of clear, sonorous, pearly, silvery notes, in +which the birds had not always the advantage.</p> + +<p>Rigolette did not sing, because, for the first time in +her life, she experienced a sorrow. Up to this time, the +sight of the misery of the Morels had often affected her; +but such sights are too familiar to the poorer classes to +cause them any very lasting melancholy. After having, +almost every day, succoured these unfortunates as far as +was in her power, sincerely wept with and for them, the +young girl felt herself at the same time moved and satisfied,—moved +by their misfortunes, and satisfied at having +shown herself pitiful. But this was not a sorrow. +Rigolette's natural gaiety soon regained its empire; and +then, without egotism, but by a simple fact of comparison, +she found herself so happy in her little chamber, +after leaving the horrible den of the Morels, that her +momentary sadness speedily disappeared.</p> + +<p>This lightness of impression was so little affected by +personal feeling, that, by a mode of extremely delicate +reasoning, the grisette considered it almost a duty to aid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +those more unhappy than herself, that she might thus +unscrupulously enjoy an existence so very precarious and +entirely dependent on her labour, but which, compared +with the fearful distress of the lapidary's family, appeared +to her almost luxurious.</p> + +<p>"In order to sing without compunction, when we have +near us persons so much to be pitied," she said, naïvely, +"we must have been as charitable to them as possible."</p> + +<p>Before we inform our reader the cause of Rigolette's +first sorrow, we are desirous to assure him, or her, completely +as to the virtue of this young girl. We are sorry +to use the word virtue,—a serious, pompous, solemn +word, which almost always brings with it ideas of painful +sacrifice, of painful struggle against the passions, of +austere meditations on the final close of all things here +below. Such was not the virtue of Rigolette. She had +neither deeply struggled nor meditated; she had worked, +and laughed, and sung. Her prudence, as she called it, +when speaking frankly and sincerely to Rodolph, was +with her a question of time,—she had not the leisure +to be in love. Particularly lively, industrious, and +orderly, order, work, and gaiety had often, unknown +to herself, defended, sustained, saved her.</p> + +<p>It may be deemed, perchance, that this morality is +light, frivolous, casual; but of what consequence is the +cause, so that the effect endures? Of what consequence +are the directions of the roots of a plant, provided the +flower blooms pure, expanded, and full of perfume?</p> + +<p>Apropos of our utopianisms, as to the encouragement, +help, and recompenses which society ought to grant to +artisans remarkable for their eminent social qualities, +we have alluded to that protection of virtue (one of the +projects of the Emperor, by the way). Let us suppose +this admirable idea realised. One of the real philanthropists +whom the Emperor proposed to employ in +searching after worth has discovered Rigolette. Abandoned +without advice, without aid, exposed to all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +perils of poverty, to all the seductions with which +youth and beauty are surrounded, this charming girl +has remained pure; her honest, hard-working life might +serve for a model and example. Would not this young +creature deserve, not a mere recompense, not succour +only, but some impressive words of approbation and +encouragement, which would give her a consciousness +of her own worth, exalt her in her own eyes, and lay on +her obligations for the future? At least she would +know that she was followed by eyes full of solicitude +and protection in the difficult path in which she is +progressing with so much courage and serenity; she +would know that, if one day the want of work or sickness +threatened to destroy the equilibrium of the poor +and occupied life, which depends solely on work and +health, a slight help, due to her former deserts, would +be given to her.</p> + +<p>People, no doubt, will exclaim against the impossibility +of this tutelary surveillance, which would surround persons +particularly worthy of interest through their previous +excellent lives. It seems to us that society has +already resolved this problem. Has it not already imagined +the superintendence of the police, for life or for a +period, for the most useful purpose of constantly controlling +the conduct of dangerous persons, noted for the +infamy of their former lives? Why does not society +exercise also a superintendence of moral charity?</p> + +<p>But let us leave the lofty stilts of our utopianisms, and +return to the cause of Rigolette's first sorrow.</p> + +<p>With the exception of Germain, a well-behaved, open-hearted +young man, the grisette's neighbours had all, at +first, begun on terms of familiarity, believing her offers +of good neighbourship were little flirtations; but these +gentlemen had been compelled to admit, with as much +astonishment as annoyance, that they found in Rigolette +an amiable and mirthful companion for their Sunday +excursions, a pleasant neighbour, and a kind-hearted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +creature, but not a mistress. Their surprise and their +annoyance, at first very great, gradually gave way before +the frank and even temper of the grisette; and then, as +she had sagaciously said to Rodolph, her neighbours +were proud on Sundays to have on their arms a pretty +girl, who was an honour to them in every way (Rigolette +was quite regardless of appearances), and who only +cost them the share of the moderate pleasures, whose +value was doubled by her presence and nice appearance. +Besides, the dear girl was so easily contented! In her +days of penury she dined well and gaily off a morsel of +warm cake, which she nibbled with all the might of her +little white teeth; after which, she amused herself so +much with a walk on the boulevards or in the arcades.</p> + +<p>If our readers feel but little sympathy with Rigolette, +they will at least confess that a person must be very +absurd, or very cruel, to refuse once a week these simple +amusements to so delightful a creature, who, besides +having no right to be jealous, never prevented her cavaliers +from consoling themselves for her cruelty by +flirtations with other damsels.</p> + +<p>François Germain alone never founded any vain hopes +on the familiarity of the young girl, but, either from +instinct of heart or delicacy of mind, he guessed from +the first day how very agreeable the singular companionship +of Rigolette might be made.</p> + +<p>What might be imagined happened, and Germain fell +passionately in love with his neighbour, without daring +to say a word to her of his love.</p> + +<p>Far from imitating his predecessors, who, convinced +of the vanity of their pursuit, had consoled themselves +with other loves, without being on that account the less +on good terms with their neighbour, Germain had most +supremely enjoyed his intimacy with the young girl, +passing with her not only his Sunday but every evening +when he was not engaged. During these long hours +Rigolette was, as usual, merry and laughing; Germain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +tender, attentive, serious, and often somewhat sad. This +sadness was his only drawback, for his manners, naturally +good, were not to be compared with the foppery +of M. Girandeau, the commercial traveller, alias bagman, +or with the noisy eccentricities of Cabrion; but M. +Girandeau by his unending loquacity, and the painter +by his equally interminable fun, took the lead of Germain, +whose quiet composure rather astonished his little +neighbour, the grisette.</p> + +<p>Rigolette then had not, as yet, testified any decided +preference for any one of her beaux; but as she was +by no means deficient in judgment, she soon discovered +that Germain alone united all the qualities requisite for +making a reasonable woman happy.</p> + +<p>Having stated all these facts, we will inquire why +Rigolette was sad, and why neither she nor her birds +sang. Her oval and fresh-looking face was rather pale; +her large black eyes, usually gay and brilliant, were +slightly dulled and veiled; whilst her whole look bespoke +unusual fatigue. She had been working nearly all the +night; from time to time she looked sorrowfully at a +letter which lay open on a table near her. This letter +had been addressed to her by Germain, and contained as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sigs">"<span class="smcap">Prison of the Conciergerie</span>.</p> + +<p class="indent">"<span class="smcap">Mademoiselle</span>:—The place from which I address you will +sufficiently prove to you the extent of my misfortune,—I am +locked up as a robber. I am guilty in the eyes of all the world, +and yet I am bold enough to write to you! It is because it +would, indeed, be dreadful to me to believe that you consider me +as a degraded criminal. I beseech you not to condemn me until +you have perused this letter. If you discard me, that will be the +final blow, and will indeed overwhelm me. I will tell you all that +has passed. For some time I had left the Rue du Temple, but +I knew through poor Louise that the Morel family, in whom you +and I took such deep interest, were daily more and more wretched. +Alas, my pity for these poor people has been my destruction! +I do not repent it, but my fate is very cruel. Last night I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +stayed very late at M. Ferrand's, occupied with business of +importance. In the room in which I was at work was a bureau, +in which my employer shut up every day the work I had done. +This evening he appeared much disturbed and troubled, and said +to me, 'Do not leave until these accounts are finished, and then +put them in the bureau, the key of which I will leave with you;' +and then he left the room. When my work was done I opened +the drawer to put it away, when, mechanically, my eyes were +attracted by an open letter, on which I read the name of Jérome +Morel, the lapidary. I confess that, seeing that it referred to +this unfortunate man, I had the indiscretion to read this letter; +and I learnt that the artisan was to be arrested next day on an +overdue bill of thirteen hundred francs, at the suit of M. Ferrand, +who, under an assumed name, had imprisoned him. This information +was from an agent employed by M. Ferrand. I knew +enough of the situation of the Morel family to be aware of the +terrible blow which the imprisonment of their only support must +inflict upon them, and I was equally distressed and indignant. +Unfortunately I saw in the same drawer an open box, with two +thousand francs in gold in it. At this moment I heard Louise +coming up the stairs, and without reflecting on the seriousness of +my offence, but profiting by the opportunity which chance offered, +I took thirteen hundred francs, went to her in the passage, and +put the money in her hand, saying, 'They are going to arrest +your father to-morrow at daybreak, for thirteen hundred francs,—here +they are. Save him, but do not say that the money comes +from me. M. Ferrand is a bad man.' You see, mademoiselle, my +intention was good, but my conduct culpable. I conceal nothing +from you, but this is my excuse. By dint of saving for a long +time I had realised, and placed with a banker, the sum of fifteen +hundred francs, but the cashier of the banker never came to the +office before noon. Morel was to be arrested at daybreak, and +therefore it was necessary that she should have the money so as +to pay it in good time; if not, even if I could have gone in the +day to release him from prison, still he would be arrested and +carried off in presence of his wife, whom such a blow must +have killed. Besides, the heavy costs of the writ would have +been added to the expenses of the lapidary. You will understand, +I dare say, that all these new misfortunes would not have +befallen me if I had been able to restore the thirteen hundred +francs I had taken back again to the bureau before M. Ferrand +discovered anything; unfortunately, I fell into that mistake. I +left M. Ferrand's, and was no longer under the impression of +indignation and pity which had impelled me to the step. I began +to reflect upon all the dangers of my position. A thousand fears<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +then came to assail me. I knew the notary's severity, and he +might come after I left and search in his bureau and discover +the theft; for in his eyes—in the eyes of the world—it is a +theft. These thoughts overwhelmed me, and, late as it was, +I ran to the banker's to supplicate him to give me my money +instantly. I should have found an excuse for this urgent request, +and then I should have returned to M. Ferrand and replaced the +money I had taken. By an unlucky chance, the banker had gone +to Belleville for two days, to his country-house, where he was +engaged in some plantations. Everything seemed to conspire +against me. I waited for daybreak with intense anxiety, and +hastened to Belleville,—the banker had just left for Paris. I +returned, saw him, obtained my money, hastened to M. Ferrand; +everything was discovered. But this is only a portion of +my misfortunes. The notary at once accused me of having +robbed him of fifteen thousand francs in bank-notes, which, he +declared, were in the drawer of the bureau, with the two thousand +francs in gold. This was a base accusation,—an infamous lie! +I confess myself guilty of the first abstraction, but, by all that is +most sacred in the world, I swear to you, mademoiselle, that I am +innocent of the second. I never saw a bank-note in the drawer. +There were only two thousand francs in gold, from which I took +the thirteen hundred francs I have mentioned. This is the truth, +mademoiselle. I am under this terrible accusation, and yet I +affirm that you ought to know me incapable of a lie. But will +you,—do you believe me? Alas, as M. Ferrand said, 'he who +has taken a small sum may equally have taken a large amount, +and his word does not deserve belief.' I have always seen you so +good and devoted to the unhappy, mademoiselle, and I know you +are so frank and liberal-minded, that your heart will guide you in +the just appreciation of the truth, I hope. I do not ask any more. +Give credit to my words, and you will find in me as much to pity +as to blame; for, I repeat to you, my intention was good, and +circumstances impossible to foresee have destroyed me. Oh, +Mlle. Rigolette, I am very unhappy! If you knew in the midst +of what a set of persons I am doomed to exist until my trial is +over! Yesterday they took me to a place which they call the +dépôt of the prefecture of police. I cannot tell you what I felt +when, after having gone up a dark staircase, I reached a door with +an iron wicket, which was opened and soon closed upon me. I +was so troubled in my mind that I could not, at first, distinguish +anything. A hot and fetid air came upon me, and I heard a loud +noise of voices mingled with sinister laughs, angry exclamations, +and depraved songs. I remained motionless at the door for +awhile, looking at the stone flooring of the apartment, and neither<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +daring to advance nor lift up my eyes, thinking that everybody +was looking at me. They were not, however, thinking of me; for +a prisoner more or less does not at all disturb these men. At last I +ventured to look up, and, oh, what horrid countenances! What +ragged wretches! What dirty and bespattered garments! All +the exterior marks of misery and vice! There were forty or fifty +seated, standing, or lying on benches secured to the wall,—vagrants, +robbers, assassins, and all who had been apprehended +during the night and day. When they perceived me I found +a sad consolation in seeing that they did not recognise me as +belonging or known to them. Some of them looked at me with +an insulting and derisive air, and then began to talk amongst +themselves in a low tone, and in some horrible jargon, not one +word of which did I understand. After a short time one of the +most brutal amongst them came, and, slapping me on the shoulder, +asked me for money to pay my footing. I gave them some +silver, hoping thus to purchase repose; but it was not enough, and +they demanded more, which I refused. Then several of them surrounded +me and assailed me with threats and imprecations, and +were proceeding to extremities, when, fortunately for me, a turnkey +entered, who had been attracted by the noise. I complained +to him, and he insisted on their restoring to me the money I had +given them already, adding that, if I liked to pay a small fee, +I should go to what is called the pistole; that is, be in a cell to +myself. I accepted the offer gratefully, and left these ruffians in +the midst of their loud menaces for the future; 'for,' said they, +'we are sure to meet again, when I could not get away from +them.' The turnkey conducted me to a cell, where I passed the +rest of the night. It is from here that I now write to you, Mlle. +Rigolette. Directly after my examination I shall be taken to +another prison, called La Force, where I expect to meet many +of my companions in the station-house. The turnkey, interested +by my grief and tears, has promised me to forward this letter to +you, although such kindnesses are strictly forbidden. I ask, +Mlle. Rigolette, a last service of your friendship, if, indeed, you +do not blush now for such an intimacy. In case you will kindly +grant my request, it is this: With this letter you will receive +a small key, and a line for the porter of the house I live in, Boulevard +St. Denis, No. 11. I inform him that you will act as if it +were myself with respect to everything that belongs to me, and +that he is to attend to your instructions. He will take you to +my room, and you will have the goodness to open my <i>secrétaire</i> +with the key I send you herewith. In this you will find a large +packet containing different papers, which I beg of you to take +care of for me. One of them was intended for you, as you will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +see by the address; others have been written of you, in happier +days. Do not be angry. I did not think they would ever come +to your knowledge. I beg you, also, to take the small sum of +money which is in this drawer, as well as a satin bag, which contains +a small orange silk handkerchief, which you wore when we +used to go out on Sundays, and which you gave me on the day +I quitted the Rue du Temple. I should wish that, excepting a +little linen which you will be so good as send to me at La +Force, you would sell the furniture and things I possess; for, +whether acquitted or found guilty, I must of necessity be obliged +to quit Paris. Where shall I go? What are my resources? God +only knows. Madame Bouvard, the saleswoman of the Temple, +who has already sold and bought for me many things, will perhaps +take all the furniture, etc., at once. She is a very fair-dealing +woman, and this would save you a great deal of trouble, +for I know how precious your time is. I have paid my rent in +advance, and I have, therefore, only to ask you to give a small +present to the porter. Excuse, mademoiselle, the trouble of these +details; but you are the only person in the world to whom I dare +and can address myself. I might, perhaps, have asked one of M. +Ferrand's clerks to do this service for me, as we were on friendly +terms, but I feared his curiosity as to certain papers. Several +concern you, as I have said, and others relate to the sad events +in my life. Ah, believe me, Mlle. Rigolette, if you grant me +this last favour, this last proof of former regard, it will be my +only consolation under the great affliction in which I am plunged; +and, in spite of all, I hope you will not refuse me. I also beg of +you to give me permission to write to you sometimes. It will be +so consoling, so comforting to me, to be able to pour out my heavy +sorrows into a kind heart. Alas, I am alone in the world,—no +one takes the slightest interest in me! This isolation was +before most painful to me. Think what it must be now! And +yet I am honest, and have the consciousness of never having +injured any one, and of always having, at the peril of my life, +testified my aversion for what is wicked and wrong; as you will +see by the papers, which I pray of you to take care of, and which +you may read. But when I say this, who will believe me? M. +Ferrand is respected by all the world; his reputation for probity +is long established; he has a just cause of accusation against me, +and he will crush me. I resign myself at once to my fate. Now, +Mlle. Rigolette, if you do believe me, you will not, I hope, feel +any contempt for me, but pity me; and you will, perhaps, carry +your generosity so far as to come one day,—some Sunday (alas, +what recollections that word brings up!)—some Sunday, to see +me in the reception-room of my prison. But no, no; I never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +could dare to see you in such a place! Yet you are so good, so +kind, that—if—I am compelled to break off this letter and +send it to you at once, with the key, and a line for the porter, +which I write in great haste. The turnkey has come to tell me +that I am going directly before the magistrate. Adieu, adieu, +Mlle. Rigolette! Do not discard me, for my hope is in you, and +in you only!</p> + +<p class="sigs">"<span class="smcap">François Germain</span>.</p> + +<p class="indent">"P. S.—If you reply, address your letter to me at the prison +of La Force."</p> +</div> + +<p>We may now divine the cause of Rigolette's first +sorrow.</p> + +<p>Her excellent heart was deeply wounded at a misfortune +of which she had no suspicion until that +moment. She believed unhesitatingly in the entire +veracity of the statement of Germain, the unfortunate +son of the Schoolmaster.</p> + +<p>Not very strait-laced, she thought her old neighbour +exaggerated his fault immensely. To save the unhappy +father of a family, he had momentarily appropriated a +sum which he thought he could instantly refund. This +action, in the grisette's eyes, was but generous.</p> + +<p>By one of those contradictions common to women, +and especially to women of her class, this young girl, +who until then had not felt for Germain more than her +other neighbours, but a kind and mirthful friendship, +now experienced for him a decided preference. As soon +as she knew that he was unfortunate, unjustly accused, +and a prisoner, his remembrance effaced that of all his +former rivals. Yet Rigolette did not all at once feel +intense love, but a warm and sincere affection, full of +pity and determined devotion,—a sentiment which was +the more new with her in consequence of the better +sensations it brought with it.</p> + +<p>Such was the moral position of Rigolette when +Rodolph entered her chamber, having first rapped +very discreetly at the door.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, neighbour," said Rodolph to Rigolette; +"do not let me disturb you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not at all, neighbour. On the contrary, I am delighted +to see you, for I have had something to vex me +dreadfully."</p> + +<p>"Why, in truth, you look very pale, and appear as +though you had been weeping."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I have been weeping, and for a good reason. +Poor Germain! There—read!" And Rigolette handed +the letter of the prisoner to Rodolph. "Is not that +enough to break one's heart? You told me you took an +interest in him,—now's the time to prove it!" she +added, whilst Rodolph was attentively reading the +letter. "Is that wicked old M. Ferrand at war with +all the world? First he attacked that poor Louise, and +now he assails Germain. Oh, I am not ill-natured; but +if some great harm happened to this notary, I should +really be glad! To accuse such an honest young man +of having stolen fifteen thousand francs from him! +Germain, too! He who was honesty itself! And +such a steady, serious young man; and so sad, too! +Oh, he is indeed to be pitied, in the midst of all these +wretches in his prison! Ah, M. Rodolph, from to-day +I begin to see that life is not all <i>couleur-de-rose</i>."</p> + +<p>"And what do you propose to do, my little neighbour?"</p> + +<p>"What do I mean to do? Why, of course, all that +Germain asks of me, and as quickly as possible. I +should have been gone before now, but for this work, +which is required in great haste, and which I must take +instantly to the Rue St. Honoré, on my way to Germain's +room, where I am going to get the papers he +speaks of. I have passed part of the night at work, +that I might be forward. I shall have so many things +to do besides my usual work that I must be excessively +methodical. In the first place, Madame Morel is very +anxious that I should see Louise in prison. That will +be a hard task, but I shall try to do it. Unfortunately, +I do not know to whom I should address myself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I had thought of that."</p> + +<p>"You, neighbour?"</p> + +<p>"Here is an order."</p> + +<p>"How fortunate! Can't you procure me also an +order for the prison of poor, unhappy Germain? He +would be so delighted!"</p> + +<p>"I will also find you the means of seeing Germain."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, M. Rodolph."</p> + +<p>"You will not be afraid, then, of going to his prison?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; although my heart will beat very +violently the first time. But that's nothing. When +Germain was free, was he not always ready to anticipate +all my wishes, and take me to the theatre, for a walk, +or read to me of an evening? Well, and now he is in +trouble, it is my turn. A poor little mouse like me cannot +do much, I know that well enough; but all I can do +I will do, that he may rely upon. He shall find that +I am a sincere friend. But, M. Rodolph, there is one +thing which pains me, and that is that he should doubt +me,—that he should suppose me capable of despising +him! I!—and for what, I should like to know? That +old notary accuses him of robbery. I know it is not +true. Germain's letter has proved to me that he is +innocent, even if I had thought him guilty. You have +only to see him, and you would feel certain that he is +incapable of a bad action. A person must be as wicked +as M. Ferrand to assert such atrocious falsehoods."</p> + +<p>"Bravo, neighbour; I like your indignation."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I wish I were a man, that I might go to +this notary and say to him, 'Oh, you say that Germain +has robbed you, do you? Well, then, that's for you! +And that he cannot steal from you, at all events?' +And thump—thump—thump, I would beat him till +I couldn't stand over him."</p> + +<p>"You administer justice very expeditiously," said +Rodolph, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Because it makes my blood boil. And, as Germain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +says in his letter, all the world will side with his employer, +because he is rich and looked up to, whilst +Germain is poor and unprotected, unless you will come +to his assistance, M. Rodolph,—you who know such +benevolent persons. Do not you think that something +could be done?"</p> + +<p>"He must await his sentence. Once acquitted, as I +believe he will be, he will not want for proofs of the +interest taken in him. But listen, neighbour; for I +know I may rely on your discretion."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, M. Rodolph, I never blab."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, no one must know—not even Germain +himself—that he has friends who are watching over +him,—for he has friends."</p> + +<p>"Really!"</p> + +<p>"Very powerful and devoted."</p> + +<p>"It would give him much courage to know that."</p> + +<p>"Unquestionably; but perhaps he might not keep it +to himself. Then M. Ferrand, alarmed, would be on his +guard,—his suspicions would be aroused; and, as he is +very cunning, it would become very difficult to catch +him, which would be most annoying; for not only must +Germain's innocence be made clear, but his denouncer +must be unmasked."</p> + +<p>"I understand, M. Rodolph."</p> + +<p>"It is the same with Louise; and I bring you this +order to see her, that you may beg of her not to tell any +person what she disclosed to me. She will know what +that means."</p> + +<p>"I understand, M. Rodolph."</p> + +<p>"In a word, let Louise beware of complaining in +prison of her master's wickedness. This is most +important. But she must conceal nothing from the +barrister who will come from me to talk with her as to +the grounds of her defence. Be sure you tell her all this."</p> + +<p>"Make yourself easy, neighbour, I will forget nothing; +I have an excellent memory. But, when we talk of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +goodness, it is you who are so good and kind. If any +one is in trouble, then you come directly."</p> + +<p>"I have told you, my good little neighbour, that I am +but a poor clerk; but when I meet with good persons +who deserve protection, I instantly tell a benevolent +individual who has entire confidence in me, and they +are helped at once. That's all I do in the matter."</p> + +<p>"And where are you lodging, now you have given up +your chamber to the Morels?"</p> + +<p>"I live in a furnished lodging."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I should hate that! To be where all the +world has been before you, it is as if everybody had +been in your place."</p> + +<p>"I am only there at nights, and then—"</p> + +<p>"I understand,—it is less disagreeable. Yet I +shouldn't like it, M. Rodolph. My home made me so +happy, I had got into such a quiet way of living, that I +did not think it was possible I should ever know a +sorrow. And yet, you see—But no, I cannot describe +to you the blow which Germain's misfortune has brought +upon me. I have seen the Morels, and others beside, +who were very much to be pitied certainly. But, at +best, misery is misery; and amongst poor folk, who look +for it, it does not surprise them, and they help one +another as well as they can. To-day it is one, to-morrow +it is another. As for oneself, what with courage and +good spirit, one extricates oneself. But to see a poor +young man, honest and good, who has been your friend +for a long time,—to see him accused of robbery, and +imprisoned and huddled up with criminals!—ah, really, +M. Rodolph, I cannot get over that; it is a misfortune I +had never thought of, and it quite upsets me."</p> + +<p>"Courage, courage! Your spirits will return when +your friend is acquitted."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he must be acquitted. The judges have +only to read his letter to me, and that would be enough,—would +it not, M. Rodolph?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Really, this letter has all the appearance of truth. +You must let me have a copy of it, for it will be necessary +for Germain's defence."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, M. Rodolph. If I did not write such a +scrawl, in spite of the lessons which good Germain gave +me, I would offer to copy it myself; but my writing is +so large, so crooked, and has so many, many faults."</p> + +<p>"I will only ask you to trust the letter with me until +to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"There it is; but you will take great care of it, I +hope. I have burnt all the notes which M. Cabrion and +M. Girandeau wrote me in the beginning of our acquaintance, +with flaming hearts and doves at the top of the +paper, when they thought I was to be caught by their +tricks and cajoleries; but this poor letter of Germain's I +will keep carefully, as well as the others, if he writes me +any more; for they, you know, M. Rodolph, will show +in my favour that he has asked these small services,—won't +they, M. Rodolph?"</p> + +<p>"Most assuredly; and they will prove that you are +the best little friend any one can desire. But, now I +think of it, instead of going alone to Germain's room, +shall I accompany you?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure, neighbour. The night is coming on, +and, in the evening, I do not like to be alone in the +streets; besides that, I have my work to carry nearly as +far as the Palais Royal. But perhaps it will fatigue +and annoy you to go so far?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. We will have a coach."</p> + +<p>"Really! Oh, how pleased I should be to go in a +coach if I had not so much to make me melancholy! +And I really must be melancholy, for this is the first +day since I have been here that I have not sung during +the day. My birds are really quite astonished. Poor +little dears! They cannot make it out. Two or three +times Papa Crétu has piped a little to try me; I endeavoured +to answer him, but, after a minute or two, I began<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +to cry. Ramonette then began; but I could not answer +one any better than the other."</p> + +<p>"What singular names you have given your birds: +Papa Crétu and Ramonette!"</p> + +<p>"Why, M. Rodolph, my birds are the joy of my +solitude,—my best friends; and I have given them the +names of the worthy couple who were the joy of my +childhood, and were also my best friends, not forgetting +that, to complete the resemblance, Papa Crétu and +Ramonette were gay, and sang like birds."</p> + +<p>"Ah, now, yes, I remember, your adopted parents were +called so."</p> + +<p>"Yes, neighbour, they are ridiculous names for birds, +I know; but that concerns no one but myself. And +besides, it was in this very point that Germain showed +his good heart."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"Why, M. Girandeau and M. Cabrion—especially M. +Cabrion—were always making their jokes on the names +of my birds. To call a canary Papa Crétu! There +never was such nonsense as M. Cabrion made of it, and +his jests were endless. If it was a cock bird, he said, +'Why, that would be well enough to call him Crétu. As +to Ramonette, that's well enough for a hen canary, for +it resembles Ramona.' In fact, he quite wore my +patience out, and for two Sundays I would not go +out with him in order to teach him a lesson; and I +told him very seriously, that if he began his tricks, +which annoyed me so much, we should never go out +together again."</p> + +<p>"What a bold resolve!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was really a sacrifice on my part, M. Rodolph, +for I was always looking forward with delight to +my Sundays, and I was very much tried by being kept +in all alone in such beautiful weather. But that's nothing. +I preferred sacrificing my Sundays to hearing M. +Cabrion continue to make ridicule of those whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +I respected. Certainly, after that, but for the idea I +attached to them, I should have preferred giving my +birds other names; and, you must know, there is one +name which I adore,—it is Colibri.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> I did not change, +because I never will call those birds by any other name +than Crétu and Ramonette; if I did, I should seem to +make a sacrifice, that I forgot my good, adopted parents,—don't +you think so, M. Rodolph?"</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Colibri is a celebrated chanson of Béranger, the especial poet of grisettes.—<i>English +Translator</i>.</p></div> +</div> + +<p>"You are right a thousand times over. And Germain +did not turn these names into a jest, eh?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, the first time he heard them he +thought them droll, like every one else, and that was +natural enough. But when I explained to him my reasons, +as I had many times explained them to M. Cabrion, +tears started to his eyes. From that time I said to +myself, M. Germain is very kind-hearted, and there is +nothing to be said against him, but his weeping so. +And so, you see, M. Rodolph, my reproaching him with +his sadness has made me unhappy now. Then I could +not understand why any one was melancholy, but now +I understand it but too well. But now my packet is +completed, and my work is ready for delivery. Will +you hand me my shawl, neighbour? It is not cold +enough to take a cloak, is it?"</p> + +<p>"We shall go and return in a coach."</p> + +<p>"True; we shall go and return very quickly, and +that will be so much gained."</p> + +<p>"But, now I think of it, what are you to do? Your +work will suffer from your visits to the prison."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no; I have made my calculations. In the +first place, I have my Sundays to myself, so I shall go +and see Louise and Germain on those days; that will +serve me for a walk and a change. Then, in the week, +I shall go again to the prison once or twice. Each time +will occupy me three good hours, won't it? Well, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +manage this comfortably, I shall work an hour more +every day, and go to bed at twelve o'clock instead of +eleven o'clock; that will be a clear gain of seven or +eight hours a week, which I can employ in going to see +Louise and Germain. You see I am richer than I +appear," added Rigolette, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"And you have no fear that you will be overfatigued?"</p> + +<p>"Bah! Not at all; I shall manage it. And, besides, +it can't last for ever."</p> + +<p>"Here is your shawl, neighbour."</p> + +<p>"Fasten it; and mind you don't prick me."</p> + +<p>"Ah, the pin is bent."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, clumsy, take another then,—from the +pincushion. Ah, I forgot! Will you do me a great +favour, neighbour?"</p> + +<p>"Command me, neighbour."</p> + +<p>"Mend me a good pen, with a broad nib, so that when +I return I may write to poor Germain, and tell him I +have executed all his commissions. He will have my +letter to-morrow morning in the prison, and that will +give him pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Where are your pens?"</p> + +<p>"There,—on the table; the knife is in the drawer. +Wait until I light my taper, for it begins to grow dusk."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I shall see better how to mend the pen."</p> + +<p>"And I how to tie my cap."</p> + +<p>Rigolette lighted a lucifer-match, and lighted a +wax-end in a small bright candlestick.</p> + +<p>"The deuce,—a wax-light! Why, neighbour, what +extravagance!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what I burn costs but a very small trifle more +than a candle, and it's so much cleaner!"</p> + +<p>"Not much dearer?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, they are not! I buy these wax-ends by the +pound, and a half a pound lasts nearly a year."</p> + +<p>"But," said Rodolph, who was mending the pen very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +carefully, whilst the grisette was tying on her cap +before the glass, "I do not see any preparations for +your dinner."</p> + +<p>"I have not the least appetite. I took a cup of milk +this morning, and I shall take another this evening, +with a small piece of bread, and that will be enough for +me."</p> + +<p>"Then you will not take a dinner with me quietly +after we have been to Germain's?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, neighbour; but I am not in spirits,—my +heart is too heavy,—another time with pleasure. +But the evening when poor Germain leaves his prison, +I invite myself, and afterwards you shall take me to the +theatre. Is that a bargain?"</p> + +<p>"It is, neighbour; and I assure you I will not forget +the engagement. But you refuse me this to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, M. Rodolph. I should be a very dull companion, +without saying a word about the time it would +occupy me; for, you see, at this moment, I really cannot +afford to be idle, or waste one single quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>"Then, for to-day I renounce the pleasure."</p> + +<p>"There is my parcel, neighbour. Now go out first, +and I will lock the door."</p> + +<p>"Here's a capital pen for you; and now for the +parcel."</p> + +<p>"Mind you don't rumple it; it is <i>pout-de-soie</i>, and +soon creases. Hold it in your hand,—carefully,—there, +in that way; that's it. Now go, and I will +show you a light."</p> + +<p>And Rodolph descended the staircase, followed by +Rigolette.</p> + +<p>At the moment when the two neighbours were passing +by the door of the porter's lodge they saw M. Pipelet, +who, with his arms hanging down, was advancing towards +them from the bottom of the passage, holding in one hand +the sign which announced his Partnership of Friendship +with Cabrion, and in the other the portrait of the confounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +painter. Alfred's despair was so overwhelming +that his chin touched his breast, so that the wide crown +of his bell-shaped hat was easily seen. Seeing him thus, +with his head lowered, coming towards Rodolph and +Rigolette, he might have been compared to a ram, or +a brave Breton, preparing for combat.</p> + +<p>Anastasie soon appeared on the threshold of the +lodge, and exclaimed, at her husband's appearance:</p> + +<p>"Well, dearest old boy, here you are! And what did +the commissary say to you? Alfred, Alfred, mind +what you're doing, or you'll poke your head against my +king of lodgers. Excuse him, M. Rodolph. It is that +vagabond of a Cabrion, who uses him worse and worse. +He'll certainly turn my dear old darling into a donkey! +Alfred, love, speak to me!"</p> + +<p>At this voice, so dear to his heart, M. Pipelet raised +his head. His features were impressed with a bitter +agony.</p> + +<p>"What did the commissary say to you?" inquired +Anastasie.</p> + +<p>"Anastasie, we must collect the few things we possess, +embrace our friends, pack up our trunk, and expatriate +ourselves from Paris,—from France,—from my beautiful +France; for now, assured of impunity, the monster +is capable of pursuing me everywhere, throughout the +length and breadth of the departments of the kingdom."</p> + +<p>"What, the commissary?"</p> + +<p>"The commissary," exclaimed M. Pipelet, with fierce +indignation,—"the commissary laughed in my teeth!"</p> + +<p>"At you,—a man of mature age, with an air so +respectable that you would appear as silly as a goose +if one did not know your virtues?"</p> + +<p>"Well, notwithstanding that, when I had respectfully +deposed in his presence my mass of complaints and vexations +against that infernal Cabrion, the magistrate, after +having looked and laughed—yes, laughed, and, I may +add, laughed indecorously—at the sign and the portrait<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +which I brought with me as corroborative testimony,—the +magistrate replied, 'My good fellow, this Cabrion is +a wag,—a practical joker. But pay no attention to his +pleasantries. I advise you to laugh at him, and heartily, +too, for really there is ample cause to do so.' 'To laugh +at it, sir-r-r!' I exclaimed,—'to laugh at it, when grief +consumes me,—when this scamp poisons my very existence; +he placards me, and will drive me out of my wits. +I demand that they imprison, exile the monster,—at least +from my street!' At these words the commissary +smiled, and politely pointed to the door. I understood +the magistrate, sighed, and—and—here I am!"</p> + +<p>"Good-for-nothing magistrate!" exclaimed Madame +Pipelet.</p> + +<p>"It is all over, Anastasie,—all is ended,—hope +ceases. There's no justice in France; I am really +atrociously sacrificed."</p> + +<p>And, by way of peroration, M. Pipelet dashed the sign +and portrait to the farther end of the passage with all +his force. Rodolph and Rigolette had in the shade +smiled at M. Pipelet's despair. After having said +a few words of consolation to Alfred, whom Anastasie +was trying to calm as well as she could, the king of +lodgers left the house in the Rue du Temple with +Rigolette, and they both got into a coach to go to +François Germain's.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h5>THE WILL.</h5> + + +<p>François Germain resided No. 11 Boulevard St. +Denis. It may not be amiss to recall to the reader, +who has probably forgotten the circumstance, that Madame +Mathieu, the diamond-matcher, whose name has +been already mentioned as the person for whom Morel +the lapidary worked, lodged in the same house as Germain. +During the long ride from the Rue du Temple +to the Rue St. Honoré, where dwelt the dressmaker +for whom Rigolette worked, Rodolph had ample opportunities +of more fully appreciating the fine natural disposition +of his companion. Like all instinctively noble +and devoted characters, she appeared utterly unconscious +of the delicacy and generosity of her conduct, all she +said and did seeming to her as the most simple and +matter-of-course thing possible.</p> + +<p>Nothing would have been more easy than for Rodolph +to provide liberally both for Rigolette's present and +future wants, and thus to have enabled her to carry her +consoling attentions to Louise and Germain, without +grieving over the loss of that time which was necessarily +taken from her work,—her sole dependence; but the +prince was unwilling to diminish the value of the grisette's +devotion by removing all the difficulties, and, +although firmly resolved to bestow a rich reward on the +rare and beautiful qualities he hourly discovered in her, +he determined to follow her to the termination of this +new and interesting trial. It is scarcely necessary to +say that, had the health of the young girl appeared to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +suffer in the smallest degree from the increase of labour +she so courageously imposed on herself, in order to dedicate +a portion of each week to the unhappy daughter of +the lapidary and the son of the Schoolmaster, Rodolph +would instantaneously have stepped forward to her aid; +and he continued to study with equal pleasure and emotion +the workings of a nature so naturally disposed to +view everything on its sunny side, so full of internal +happiness, and so little accustomed to sorrow that occasionally +she would smile, and seem the mirthful creature +nature had made her, spite of all the grief by which +she was surrounded.</p> + +<p>At the end of about an hour, the <i>fiacre</i>, returning +from the Rue St. Honoré, stopped before a modest, +unpretending sort of house, situated No. 11 Boulevard +St. Denis. Rodolph assisted Rigolette to alight. The +young sempstress then proceeded to the porter's lodge, +where she communicated Germain's intentions, without +forgetting the promised gratuity.</p> + +<p>Owing to the extreme amenity of his disposition, the +son of the Schoolmaster was unusually beloved, and the +<i>confrère</i> of M. Pipelet was deeply grieved to learn that +so quiet and well-conducted a lodger was about to quit +the house, and to that purpose the worthy porter warmly +expressed himself. Having obtained a light, Rigolette +proceeded to rejoin her companion, having first arranged +with the porter that he should not follow her up-stairs +till a time she indicated should have elapsed, and then +merely to receive his final orders. The chamber occupied +by Germain was situated on the fourth floor. When +they reached the door, Rigolette handed the key to +Rodolph, saying:</p> + +<p>"Here, will you open the door? My hand trembles +so violently, I cannot do it. I fear you will laugh at +me. But, when I think that poor Germain will never +more enter this room, I seem as though I were about to +pass the threshold of a chamber of death."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come, come, my good neighbour, try and exert yourself; +you must not indulge such thoughts as these."</p> + +<p>"I know it is wrong; but, indeed, I cannot help it." +And here Rigolette tried to dry up the tears with which +her eyes were filled.</p> + +<p>Without being equally affected as his companion, +Rodolph still experienced a deep and painful emotion +as he penetrated into this humble abode. Well aware of +the detestable pertinacity with which the accomplices +of the Schoolmaster pursued, and were possibly still pursuing, +Germain, he pictured to himself the many hours +the unfortunate youth was constrained to pass in this +cheerless solitude. Rigolette placed the light on the +table. Nothing could possibly be more simple than +the fittings-up of the apartment itself. Its sole furniture +consisted of a small bed, a chest of drawers, a walnut-tree +bureau, four rush-bottomed chairs, and a table; +white calico curtains hung from the windows and around +the bed. The only ornament the mantelpiece presented +was a water-bottle and glass. The bed was made; but, +by the impression left on it, it would seem that Germain +had thrown himself on it without undressing on the +night previous to his arrest.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow!" said Rigolette, sadly, as she examined +each minute detail of the interior of the apartment; "it +is very easy to see I was not near him. His room is +tidy, to be sure, but not as neat as it ought to be. Everything +is covered with dust. The curtains are smoke-dried, +the windows want cleaning, and the floor is not +kept as it should be. Oh, dear, what a difference! +The Rue du Temple was not a better room, but it had +a much more cheerful look, because everything was kept +so bright and clean,—like in my apartment!"</p> + +<p>"Because in the Rue du Temple he had the benefit of +your advice and assistance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pray look here!" cried Rigolette, pointing to +the bed. "Only see,—the poor fellow never went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +to bed at all the last night he was here! How uneasy +he must have been! See, he has left his handkerchief +on his pillow, quite wet with his tears! I can see that +plainly enough." Then, taking up the handkerchief, +she added, "Germain has kept a small, orange-coloured +silk cravat I gave him once during our happy days. I have +a great mind to keep this handkerchief in remembrance +of his misfortune. Do you think he would be angry?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, he would but be too much delighted +with such a mark of your affection."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but we must not indulge in such thoughts now; +let us attend to more serious matters. I will make up +a parcel of linen from the contents of those drawers, +ready to take to the prison, and Mother Bouvard, whom +I will send to-morrow, will see to the rest; but first of +all I will open the bureau, in order to get out the papers +and money Germain wished me to take charge of."</p> + +<p>"But, now I think of it, Louise Morel gave me +back yesterday the thirteen hundred francs in gold she +received from Germain, to pay the lapidary's debt, +which I had already discharged. I have this money +about me; it justly belongs to Germain, since he repaid +the notary what he withdrew from the cash-box. I will +place it in your hands, in order that you may add it to +the sum entrusted to your care."</p> + +<p>"Just as you like, M. Rodolph, although really I +should prefer not having so large a sum in my possession, +really there are so many dishonest people nowadays! +As for papers, that's quite another thing; I'll +willingly take charge of as many papers as you please, +but money is such a dangerous thing!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right; then I tell you what we will +do—eh, neighbour? I will be banker, and undertake +the responsibility of guarding this money. Should Germain +require anything, you can let me know; I will +leave you my address, and whatever you send for shall +be punctually and faithfully sent."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, yes, that will be very much better! How +good of you to offer, for I could not have ventured to +propose such a thing to you! So that is settled; I will +beg of you, also, to take whatever this furniture sells +for. And now let us see about the papers," continued +Rigolette, opening the bureau and pulling out several +drawers. "Ah, I dare say this is it! See what a large +packet! But, oh, good gracious, M. Rodolph, do pray +look what mournful words these are written on the +outside!"</p> + +<p>And here Rigolette, in a faltering voice, read as +follows:</p> + +<p>"'In the event of my dying by either a violent or +natural death, I request whoever may open this bureau +to carry these papers to Mlle. Rigolette, dressmaker, No. +17 Rue du Temple.' Do you think, M. Rodolph, that I +may break the seals of the envelope?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly; does not Germain expressly say that +among the papers you will find a letter particularly +addressed to yourself?"</p> + +<p>The agitated girl broke the seals which secured the +outward cover, and from it fell a quantity of papers, one +of which, bearing the superscription of Mlle. Rigolette, +contained these words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indent">"<span class="smcap">Mademoiselle</span>:—When this letter reaches your hands, I +shall be no more, if, as I fear, I should perish by a violent death, +through falling into a snare similar to that from which I lately +escaped. A few particulars herein enclosed, and entitled 'Notes +on My Life,' may serve to discover my murderers."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Ah, M. Rodolph," cried Rigolette, interrupting herself, +"I am no longer astonished poor Germain was so +melancholy! How very dreadful to be continually +pursued by such ideas!"</p> + +<p>"He must, indeed, have suffered deeply; but, trust +me, his worst misfortunes are over."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Alas, M. Rodolph, I trust it may prove so! Still, +to be in prison, and accused of theft!"</p> + +<p>"Make yourself quite easy about him; his innocence +once proved, instead of returning to his former seclusion +and loneliness, he will regain his friends. You, first +and foremost, and then a dearly loved mother, from +whom he has been separated from his childhood."</p> + +<p>"His mother! Has he, then, still a mother?"</p> + +<p>"He has, but she has long believed him lost to her +for ever. Imagine her delight at seeing him again, +cleared from the unworthy charge now brought against +him. You see I was right in saying that his greatest +troubles were over; do not mention his mother to him. +I entrust you with the secret, because you take so generous +an interest in the fate of Germain that it is but +due to your devotedness that you should be tranquillised +as to his future fate."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, M. Rodolph! I promise you to guard +the secret as carefully as you could do."</p> + +<p>Rigolette then proceeded with the perusal of Germain's +letter; it continued thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"'Should you deign, mademoiselle, to cast your eyes over these +notes, you will find that I have been unfortunate all my life, +always unhappy, except during the hours I have passed with you; +you will find sentiments I should never have ventured to express +by words fully revealed in a sort of memorandum, entitled "My +Only Days of Happiness." Nearly every evening, after quitting +you, I thus poured forth the cheering thoughts with which your +affection inspired me, and which only sweetened the bitterness of +a cup full even to overflowing. That which was but friendship +in you, was, in my breast, the purest, the sincerest love; but of +that love I have never spoken. No, I reserved its full disclosure +till the moment should arrive when I could be but as an object +of your sorrowing recollection. No, never would I have sought +to involve you in a destiny as thoroughly miserable as my own. +But, when your eye peruses these pages, there will be nothing to +fear from the power of my ill-starred fate. I shall have been +your faithful friend, your adoring lover, but I shall no longer be +dangerous to your future happiness in either sense. I have but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +one last wish and desire, and I trust that you will kindly accomplish +it. I have witnessed the noble courage with which you +labour day by day, as well as the care and management requisite +to make your hard-earned gain suffice for your moderate wants. +Often have I shuddered at the bare idea of your being reduced +by illness (brought on, probably, by overattention to your work) +to a state too frightful to dwell upon. And it is no small consolation +to me to believe it in my power to spare you, not only a +considerable share of personal inconvenience, but also to preserve +you from evils your unsuspicious nature dreams not of.'</p> +</div> + +<p>"What does that last part mean, M. Rodolph?" asked +Rigolette, much surprised.</p> + +<p>"Proceed with the letter; we shall see by and by."</p> + +<p>Rigolette thus resumed:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'I know upon how little you can live, and of what service +even a small sum would be to you in any case of emergency. I +am very poor myself, but still, by dint of rigid economy, I have +managed to save fifteen hundred francs, which are placed in the +hands of a banker; it is all I am worth in the world, but by my +will, which you will find with this, I have ventured to bequeath +it to you; and I trust you will not refuse to accept this last +proof of the sincere affection of a friend and brother, from whom +death will have separated you when this meets your eye.'</p> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, M. Rodolph," cried Rigolette, bursting into +tears, "this is too much! Kind, good Germain, thus +to consider my future welfare! What an excellent +heart he must have!"</p> + +<p>"Worthy and noble-minded young man!" rejoined +Rodolph, with deep emotion. "But calm yourself, my +good girl. Thank God, Germain is still living! And, +by anticipating the perusal of his last wishes, you will +at least have learned how sincerely he loved you,—nay, +still loves you!"</p> + +<p>"And only to think," said Rigolette, drying up her +tears, "that I should never once have suspected it! +When first I knew M. Girandeau and M. Cabrion, they +were always talking to me of their violent love, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +flames, and darts, and such stuff; but finding I took no +notice of them, they left off wearying me with such nonsense. +Now, on the contrary, Germain never named +love to me. When I proposed to him that we should +be good friends, he accepted the offer as frankly as it +was made, and ever after that we were always excellent +companions and neighbours; but—now I don't mind +telling you, M. Rodolph, that I was not sorry Germain +never talked to me in the same silly strain."</p> + +<p>"But still it astonished you, did it not?"</p> + +<p>"Why, M. Rodolph, I ascribed it to his melancholy, +and I fancied his low spirits prevented his joking like +the others."</p> + +<p>"And you felt angry with him, did you not, for always +being so sad?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the grisette, ingenuously; "no, I excused +him, because it was the only fault he had. But now +that I have read his kind and feeling letter, I cannot +forgive myself for ever having blamed him even for that +one thing."</p> + +<p>"In the first place," said Rodolph, smiling, "you find +that he had many and just causes for his sadness; and +secondly, that, spite of his melancholy, he did love you +deeply and sincerely."</p> + +<p>"To be sure; and it seems a thing to be proud of, to +be loved by so excellent a young man!"</p> + +<p>"Whose love you will, no doubt, return one of these +days?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that, M. Rodolph, though it is +very likely, for poor Germain is so much to be pitied. +I can imagine myself in his place. Suppose, just when +I fancied myself despised and forsaken by all the world, +some one whom I loved very dearly should evince for +me more regard than I had ventured to hope for, don't +you think it would make me very happy?" Then, after +a short silence, Rigolette continued, with a sigh, "On the +other hand, we are both so poor that, perhaps, it would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +be very imprudent. Ah, well, M. Rodolph, I must not +think of such things. Perhaps, too, I deceive myself. +One thing, however, is quite sure, and that is, that so +long as Germain remains in prison I will do all in my +power for him. It will be time enough when he has +regained his liberty for me to determine whether 'tis +love or friendship I feel for him. Until then it would +only torment me needlessly to try to make up my mind +what I had better do. But it is getting late, M. Rodolph. +Will you have the goodness to collect all those papers, +while I make up a parcel of linen? Ah, I forgot the +little bag containing the little orange-coloured cravat I +gave him. No doubt it is here—in this drawer. Oh, +yes, this is it. Oh, see, what a pretty bag! How nicely +embroidered! Poor Germain! I declare he has kept +such a trifle as this little handkerchief with as much care +as though it had been some holy relic. I well remember +the last time I had it around my throat; and when I +gave it to him, poor fellow, how very pleased he was!"</p> + +<p>At this moment some one knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" inquired Rodolph.</p> + +<p>"Want to speak to Ma'am Mathieu," replied a harsh, +hoarse voice, and in a tone which is peculiar to the +lowest orders. (Madame Mathieu was the matcher of +precious stones to whom we have before referred.)</p> + +<p>This voice, whose accent was peculiar, awoke some +vague recollections in Rodolph's breast; and, desirous +of elucidating them, he took the light, and went himself +to open the door. He found himself confronted by a +man who was one of the frequenters of the <i>tapis-franc</i> +of the ogress, and recognised him instantly, so deeply +was the print of vice stamped upon him, so completely +marked on his beardless and youthful features. It +was Barbillon.</p> + +<p>Barbillon, the pretended hackney-coachman, who had +driven the Schoolmaster and the Chouette to the hollow +way of Bouqueval,—Barbillon, the assassin of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +husband of the unhappy milkwoman, who had set the +labourers of the farm at Arnouville on against La +Goualeuse. Whether this wretch had forgotten Rodolph's +face, which he had never seen but once at the +<i>tapis-franc</i> of the ogress, or that the change of dress +prevented him from recognising the Chourineur's conqueror, +he did not evince the slightest surprise at his +appearance.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" inquired Rodolph.</p> + +<p>"Here's a letter for Ma'am Mathieu, and I must give +it to her myself," was Barbillon's reply.</p> + +<p>"She does not live here,—it's opposite," said Rodolph.</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, master. They told me the left-hand door; +but I've mistook."</p> + +<p>Rodolph did not recollect the name of the diamond-matcher, +which Morel the lapidary had only mentioned +once or twice, and thus had no motive for interesting +himself in the female to whom Barbillon came with his +message; but yet, although ignorant of the ruffian's +crimes, his face was so decidedly repulsive that he +remained at the threshold of the door, curious to see the +person to whom Barbillon brought the letter.</p> + +<p>Barbillon had scarcely knocked at the door opposite +to Germain's, than it opened, and the jewel-matcher, a +stout woman of about fifty, appeared with a candle in +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Ma'am Mathieu?" inquired Barbillon.</p> + +<p>"That's me, my man."</p> + +<p>"Here's a letter, and I waits for an answer."</p> + +<p>And Barbillon made a step forward to enter the doorway, +but the woman made him a sign to remain where +he was, and unsealed the letter, which she read by the +light of the candle she held, and then replied with an +air of satisfaction:</p> + +<p>"Say it's all right, my man, and I will bring what is +required. I will be there at the same hour as usual. +My respects to the lady."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, missus. Please to remember the porter!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must ask them as sent you; they are richer +than I am." And she shut the door.</p> + +<p>Rodolph returned to Germain's room, when he saw +Barbillon run quickly down the staircase. The ruffian +found on the boulevard a man of low-lived, brutal +appearance, waiting for him in front of a shop. +Although the passers-by could hear (it is true they +could not comprehend), Barbillon appeared so delighted +that he could not help saying to his companion:</p> + +<p>"Come and 'lush a drain of red tape,' Nicholas; the +old mot swallows the bait, hook and all. She'll show +at the Chouette's. Old Mother Martial will lend a hand +to peel her of the swag, and a'terwards we can box the +'cold meat' in your 'barkey.'"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> "Come and let's have some brandy together, Nicholas. The old woman +falls easily into the snare. She will come to the Chouette's; Mother Martial +will help us to take her jewels from her forcibly, and then we can remove +the dead body away in your boat."</p></div> +</div> + +<p>"Let's mizzle,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> then; for I must get back to Asnières +early, or else my brother Martial will smell summut."</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> "Let's be quick, then."</p></div> +</div> + +<p>And the two robbers, after having exchanged these +words in their own slang, went towards the Rue St. +Denis.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>Some minutes afterwards Rigolette and Rodolph left +Germain's, got into the hackney-coach, and reached the +Rue du Temple.</p> + +<p>The coach stopped.</p> + +<p>At the moment when the door opened, Rodolph +recognised by the light of the dram-shop lamps his +faithful Murphy, who was waiting for him at the door +of the entrance.</p> + +<p>The squire's presence always announced some serious +and sudden event, for it was he alone who knew at all +times where to find the prince.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" inquired Rodolph, quickly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +whilst Rigolette was collecting several things out of +the vehicle.</p> + +<p>"A terrible circumstance, monseigneur!"</p> + +<p>"Speak, in heaven's name!"</p> + +<p>"M. the Marquis d'Harville—"</p> + +<p>"You alarm me!"</p> + +<p>"Had several friends to breakfast with him this morning. +He was in high spirits, had never been more joyous, +when a fatal imprudence—"</p> + +<p>"Pray come to the point—pray!"</p> + +<p>"And playing with a pistol, which he did not believe +to be loaded—"</p> + +<p>"Wounded himself seriously."</p> + +<p>"Monseigneur!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Something dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"He is dead!"</p> + +<p>"D'Harville! Ah, how horrible!" exclaimed Rodolph, +in a tone so agonised that Rigolette, who was at the +moment quitting the coach with the parcels, said:</p> + +<p>"Alas! what ails you, M. Rodolph?"</p> + +<p>"Some very distressing information I have just told +my friend, mademoiselle," said Murphy to the young +girl, for the prince was so overcome that he could +not reply.</p> + +<p>"Is it, then, some dreadful misfortune?" said +Rigolette, trembling all over.</p> + +<p>"Very dreadful, indeed!" replied the squire.</p> + +<p>"Yes, most awful!" said Rodolph, after a few +moment's silence; then recollecting Rigolette, he said +to her, "Excuse me, my dear neighbour, if I do not go +up to your room with you. To-morrow I will send you +my address, and an order to go to see Germain in his +prison. I will soon see you again."</p> + +<p>"Ah, M. Rodolph, I assure you that I share in the +grief you now experience! I thank you very much for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +having accompanied me; but I shall soon see you again, +sha'n't I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my child, very soon."</p> + +<p>"Good evening, M. Rodolph," added Rigolette, and +then disappeared down the passage with the various +things she had brought away from Germain's room.</p> + +<p>The prince and Murphy got into the hackney-coach, +which took them to the Rue Plumet. Rodolph immediately +wrote the following note to Clémence:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indent">"<span class="smcap">Madame</span>:—I have this instant learned the sudden blow +which has struck you, and deprived me of one of my best friends. +I forbear any attempt to portray my horror and my regret. Yet I +must mention to you certain circumstances unconnected with this +cruel event. I have just learned that your stepmother, who has +been, no doubt, in Paris for several days, returns this evening to +Normandy, taking with her Polidori. No doubt but this fact +will convince you of the peril which threatens your father; and +pray allow me to give you some advice, which I think requisite. +After the appalling event of this morning, every one must but too +easily conceive your anxiety to quit Paris for some time; go, +therefore, go at once, to Aubiers, so that you may arrive there +before your stepmother, or, at least, as soon as she. Make yourself +easy, madame, for I shall watch at a distance, as well as +close, the abominable projects of your stepmother. Adieu, +madame; I write these few lines to you in great haste. My +heart is lacerated when I remember yesterday evening, when I +left him,—him,—more tranquil and more happy than he had +been for a very long time.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Believe, madame, in my deep and lasting devotion,</p> + +<p class="sigs">"<span class="smcap">Rodolph</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Following the prince's advice, three hours after she +had received this letter, Madame d'Harville, accompanied +by her daughter, was on the road to Normandy. A post-chaise, +despatched from Rodolph's mansion, followed in +the same route. Unfortunately, in the troubled state into +which this complication of events and the hurry of her +departure had driven her, Clémence had forgotten to +inform the prince that she had met Fleur-de-Marie at +St. Lazare.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>Our readers may, perhaps, remember that, on the +previous evening, the Chouette had been menacing +Madame Séraphin, and threatening to unfold the whole +history of La Goualeuse's existence, affirming that she +knew (and she spoke truth) where the young girl then +was. The reader may also recollect that, after this conversation, +the notary, Jacques Ferrand, dreading the +disclosure of his criminal course, believed that he had +a strong motive for effecting the disappearance of La +Goualeuse, whose existence, once known, would compromise +him fatally. He had, in consequence, written +to Bradamanti, one of his accomplices, to come to him +that they might together arrange a fresh plot, of which +Fleur-de-Marie was to be the victim. Bradamanti, occupied +by the no less pressing interests of Madame d'Harville's +stepmother, who had her own sinister motives for +taking the charlatan with her to M. d'Orbigny, finding +it, no doubt, more profitable to serve his ancient female +ally, did not attend to the notary's appointment, but set +out for Normandy without seeing Madame Séraphin.</p> + +<p>The storm was gathering over the head of Jacques +Ferrand. During the day the Chouette had returned to +reiterate her threats; and to prove that they were not +vain, she declared to the notary that the little girl, +formerly abandoned by Madame Séraphin, was then a +prisoner in St. Lazare, under the name of La Goualeuse; +and that if he did not give ten thousand francs (400<i>l.</i>) +in three days, this young girl would receive the papers +which belonged to her, and which would instruct her +that she had been confided in her infancy to the care of +Jacques Ferrand. According to his custom, the notary +denied all boldly, and drove the Chouette away as an +impudent liar, although he was perfectly convinced, and +greatly alarmed at the dangerous drift of her threats. +Thanks to his numerous connections, the notary found +means to ascertain that very day (during the conversation +of Fleur-de-Marie and Madame d'Harville) that La<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +Goualeuse was actually a prisoner in St. Lazare, and so +marked for her good conduct that they were expecting +her discharge every moment. Thus informed, Jacques +Ferrand, having determined on his deadly scheme, felt +that, in order to carry it into execution, Bradamanti's +help was more than ever indispensable; and thereon +came Madame Séraphin's vain attempts to see the +doctor. Having at length heard, in the evening, of +the departure of the charlatan, the notary, driven to +act by the imminence of his fears and danger, recalled +to mind the Martial family, those freshwater pirates +established near the bridge of Asnières, with whom +Bradamanti had proposed to place Louise, in order to +get rid of her undetected. Having absolutely need of +an accomplice to carry out his deadly purposes against +Fleur-de-Marie, the notary took every precaution not to +be compromised in case a fresh crime should be committed; +and, the day after Bradamanti's departure for +Normandy, Madame Séraphin went with all speed to the +Martials.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h5>L'ILE DU RAVAGEUR.</h5> + + +<p>The following scenes took place during the evening of +the day in which Madame Séraphin, in compliance with +Jacques Ferrand the notary's orders, went to the Martials, +the freshwater pirates established at the point of +a small islet of the Seine, not far from the bridge of +Asnières.</p> + +<p>The Father Martial had died, like his own father, on +the scaffold, leaving a widow, four sons, and two daughters. +The second of these sons was already condemned +to the galleys for life, and of the rest of this numerous +family there remained in the Ile du Ravageur (a name +which was popularly given to this place; why, we will +hereafter explain) the Mother Martial; three sons, the +eldest (La Louve's lover) twenty-five years of age, the +next twenty, and the youngest twelve; two girls, one +eighteen years of age, the second nine.</p> + +<p>The examples of such families, in whom there is +perpetuated a sort of fearful inheritance of crime, are +but too frequent. And this must be so. Let us repeat, +unceasingly, society thinks of punishing, but never of +preventing, crime. A criminal is sentenced to the +galleys for life; another is executed. These felons will +leave young families; does society take any care or +heed of these orphans,—these orphans, whom it has +made so, by visiting their father with a civil death, or +cutting off his head? Does it substitute any careful +or preserving guardianship after the removal of him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +whom the law has declared to be unworthy, infamous,—after +the removal of him whom the law has put to +death? No; "the poison dies with the beast," says +society. It is deceived; the poison of corruption is so +subtle, so corrosive, so contagious, that it becomes almost +invariably hereditary; but, if counteracted in time, it +would never be incurable. Strange contradiction! Dissection +proves that a man dies of a malady that may +be transmitted, and then, by precautionary measures, +his descendants are preserved from the affection of +which he has been the victim. Let the same facts be +produced in the moral order of things; let it be demonstrated +that a criminal almost always bequeaths to his +son the germ of a precocious depravity. Will society +do for the safety of this young soul what the doctor +does for the body, when it is a question of contending +against hereditary vitiation? No; instead of curing +this unhappy creature, we leave him to be gangrened, +even to death; and then, in the same way as the people +believe the son of the executioner to be an executioner, +perforce, also, they will believe the son of a criminal +also a criminal. And then we consider that the result +of an inheritance inexorably fatal, which is really a +corruption caused by the egotistical neglect of society. +Thus, if, in spite of the evil mark on his name, the +orphan, whom the law has made so, remains, by chance, +industrious and honest, a barbarous prejudice will still +reflect on him his father's offences; and thus subjected +to undeserved reprobation, he will scarcely find employment. +And, instead of coming to his aid, to save him +from discouragement, despair, and, above all, the dangerous +resentments of injustice, which sometimes drive +the most generous disposition to revolt to ill, society +will say:</p> + +<p>"Let him go wrong if he will,—we shall watch him. +Have we not gaolers, turnkeys, and executioners?"</p> + +<p>Thus for him who (and it is as rare as it is meritorious)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +preserves himself pure in spite of the worst examples, +is there any support, any encouragement? Thus +for him who, plunged from his birth in a focus of +domestic depravity, is vitiated quite young, what hope +is there of cure?</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I will cure him, the orphan I have made," +replies society; "but in my own way,—by and by. +To extirpate the smallpox, to cut out the imposthume, +it must come to a head."</p> + +<p>A criminal desires to speak.</p> + +<p>"Prisons and galleys, they are my hospitals. In +incurable cases there is the executioner. As to the cure +of my orphan," adds society, "I will reflect upon it. +Let the germ of hereditary corruption ripen; let it +increase; let it extend its ravages far and wide. When +our man shall be rotten to the heart, when crime oozes +out of him at every pore, when a robbery or desperate +murder shall have placed him at the same bar of infamy +at which his father stood, then we will cure this inheritor +of crime,—as we cured his progenitor. At the galleys +or on the scaffold the son will find his father's seat still +warm."</p> + +<p>Society thus reasons; and it is astonished, and indignant, +and frightened, to see how robberies and murders +are handed down so fatally from generation to generation.</p> + +<p>The dark picture which is now to follow—The +Freshwater Pirates—is intended to display what the +inheritance of evil in a family may be when society does +not come legally or officially to preserve the unfortunate +victims of the law from the terrible consequences of the +sentence executed against the father.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> In proportion as we advance in this work, its moral aim is attacked with +so much bitterness, and, as we think, with so much injustice, that we ask +permission to dwell a little on the serious and honourable idea which hitherto +has sustained and guided us. Many serious, delicate, and lofty minds, being +desirous of encouraging us in our endeavours, and having forwarded to us +the flattering testimonials of their approval, it is due, perhaps, to these +known and unknown friends to reply over again to the blind accusations +which have reached, we may say, even to the bosom of the legislative +assembly. To proclaim the odious immorality of our work is to proclaim +decidedly, it appears to us, the odiously immoral tendencies of the persons +who honour us with the deepest sympathies. It is in the name of these +sympathies, as well as in our own, that we shall endeavour to prove, by an +example selected from amongst others, that this work is not altogether +destitute of generous and practical ideas. We gave, some time back, the +sketch of a model farm founded by Rodolph, in order to encourage, teach, +and remunerate poor, honest, and industrious labourers. We add to this: +Honest men who are unfortunate deserve, at least, as much interest as +criminals; yet there are numerous associations intended for the patronage +of young prisoners, or those discharged, but there is no society founded for +the purpose of giving succour to poor young persons whose conduct has been +invariably exemplary. So that it is absolutely necessary to have committed +an offence to become qualified for these institutions, which are, unquestionably, +most meritorious and salutary. And we make a peasant of the Bouqueval +farm to say: +</p><p> +"It is humane and charitable not to make the wicked desperate, but it is +also requisite that the good should not be without hope. If a stout, sturdy, +honest fellow, desirous of doing well, and of learning all he can, were to +present himself at the farm for young ex-thieves, they would say to him, +'My lad, haven't you stolen some trifle, or been somewhat dissolute?' 'No!' +'Well, then, this is no place for you.'" +</p><p> +This discordance of things had struck minds much superior to our own, +and, thanks to them, what we considered as an utopianism was realised. +Under the superintendence of one of the most distinguished and most +honourable men of the age, M. le Comte Portalis, and under the able direction +of a real philanthropist with a generous heart and an enlightened and +practical mind, M. Allier, a society has been established for the purpose of +succouring poor and honest persons of the Department of the Seine, and of +employing them in agricultural colonies. This single and sole result is +sufficient to affirm the moral idea of our work. We are very proud and very +happy to have been met in the midst of our ideas, our wishes, and our hopes +by the founders of this new work of charity; for we are one of the most +obscure, but most convinced, propagators of these two great truths,—that it +is the duty of society to prevent evil, and to encourage and recompense good, +as much as in it lies. +</p><p> +Whilst we are speaking of this new work of charity, whose just and moral +idea ought to have a salutary and fruitful result, let us hope that its founders +will perchance think of supplying another vacancy, by extending hereafter +their tutelary patronage, or, at least, their solicitude, over young children +whose fathers have been executed, or condemned to an infamous sentence +involving civil death, and who, we will repeat, are made orphans by the act +and operation of the law. Such of these unfortunate children as shall be +already worthy of interest from their wholesome tendencies and their misery +will still more deserve particular notice, in consequence of their painful, +difficult, and dangerous position. Let us add: The family of a condemned +criminal, almost always victims of cruel repulses, apply in vain for labour, +and are compelled, in order to escape universal reprobation, to fly from the +spot where they have hitherto found work. Then, exasperated and enraged +by injustice, already branded as criminals, for faults of which they are +innocent, frequently at the end of all honourable resource, these unfortunates +would sink and die of famine if they remained honest. If they have, +on the other hand, already undergone an almost inevitable corruption, ought +we not to try and rescue them whilst there is yet time? The presence of +these orphans of the law in the midst of other children protected by the +society of whom we have spoken, would be, moreover, a useful example to +all. It would show that if the guilty is unfailingly punished, his family +lose nothing, but rather gain in the esteem of the world, if by dint of courage +and virtues they achieve the reëstablishing of a tarnished name. Shall we +say that the legislature desires to render the chastisement still more terrible +by virtually striking the criminal father in the fortune of his innocent son? +That would be barbarous, immoral, irrational. Is it not, on the contrary, of +the highest moral consequence to prove to the people that there is no +hereditary succession of evil; that the original stain is not ineffaceable? +</p><p> +Let us venture to hope that these reflections will appear deserving of +some attention from the new Society of Patronage. Unquestionably it is +painful to think that the state never takes the initiative in these questions +so vital and so deeply interesting to social organisation.</p></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>The ancestor of the Martial family who first established +himself on this islet, on payment of a moderate +rent, was a <i>ravageur</i> (a river-scavenger). The ravageurs, +as well as the <i>débardeurs</i> and <i>déchireurs</i> of boats, remain +nearly the whole of the day plunged in water up to the +waist in the exercise of their trade. The <i>débardeurs</i> +bring ashore the floating wood. The <i>déchireurs</i> break +up the rafts which have brought the wood. Equally +aquatic as these other two occupations, the business of +a <i>ravageur</i> is different. Going into the water as far +as possible, the <i>ravageur</i>, or mud-lark, draws up, by aid +of a long drag, the river sand from beneath the mud; then, +collecting it in large wooden bowls, he washes it like a +person washing for gold dust, and extracts from it metallic +particles of all kinds,—iron, copper, lead, tin, pewter, +brass,—the results of the relics of all sorts of utensils. +The <i>ravageurs</i>, indeed, often find in the sand fragments +of gold and silver jewelry, brought into the Seine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +either by the sewers which are washed by the stream, +or by the masses of snow or ice collected in the streets, +and which are cast into the river. We do not know by +what tradition or custom these persons, usually honest +and industrious, are called by a name so formidable. +Martial, the father, the first inhabitant of this islet, +being a <i>ravageur</i> (and a sad exception to his comrades), +the inhabitants of the river's banks called it the Ile du +Ravageur.</p> + +<p>The dwelling of these freshwater pirates was placed +at the southern end of the island. In daytime there +was visible, on a sign-board over the door:</p> + +<p class="center">"AU RENDEZVOUS DES RAVAGEURS.<br /> +GOOD WINE, GOOD EELS, AND FRIED FISH.<br /> +BOATS LET BY THE DAY OR HOUR."</p> + +<p>We thus see that the head of this depraved family +added to his visible or hidden pursuits those of a public-house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +keeper, fisherman, and letter of boats. The felon's +widow continued to keep the house, and reprobates, +vagrants, escaped convicts, wandering wild-beast showmen, +and scamps of every description came there to +pass Sundays and other days not marked with a red +letter in the calendar, in parties of pleasure. Martial +(La Louve's lover), the eldest son of the family, the +least guilty of all the family, was a river poacher, and +now and then, as a real champion, and for money paid, +took the part of the weak against the strong. One of +his brothers, Nicholas, the intended accomplice of Barbillon +in the murder of the jewel-matcher, was in appearance +a <i>ravageur</i>, but really a freshwater pirate in the +Seine and its banks. François, the youngest son of +the executed felon, rowed visitors who wished to go +on the river in a boat. We have alluded to Ambroise +Martial, condemned to the galleys for burglary at night +with attempt to murder. The eldest daughter, nicknamed +Calabash (<i>Calebasse</i>), helped her mother in the +kitchen, and waited on the company. Her sister, +Amandine, nine years of age, was also employed in the +house according to her years and strength.</p> + +<p>At the period in question it was a dull night out of +doors; heavy, gray, opaque clouds, driven by the wind, +showed here and there in the midst of their openings a +few patches of dark blue spotted with stars. The outline +of the islet, bordered by high and ragged poplars, +was strongly and darkly defined in the clear haze of the +sky and in the white transparency of the river. The +house, with its irregular gables, was completely buried +in the shade; two windows in the ground floor only +were lighted, and these windows showed a deep red +light, which was reflected like long trails of fire in the +little ripples which washed the landing-place close to +the house. The chains of the boats which were moored +there made a continual clashing, that mingled unpleasantly +with the gusts of the wind in the branches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +of the poplars, and the hoarse murmurs of the main +stream.</p> + +<p>A portion of the family was assembled in the kitchen +of the house. This was a large low-roofed apartment. +Facing the door were two windows, under which a long +stove extended. To the left hand there was a high +chimney; on the right a staircase leading to the upper +story. At the side of this staircase was the entrance to +a large room, containing several tables for the use of the +guests at the cabaret. The light of a lamp, joined to +the flame of the fire, was strongly reflected by a number +of saucepans and other copper utensils suspended against +the wall, or ranged on shelves with a quantity of earthenware; +and a large table stood in the middle of the kitchen. +The felon's widow, with three of her children, was seated +in the corner near the fireplace.</p> + +<p>This woman, tall and meagre, seemed about five and +forty years of age. She was dressed in black, with a +mourning handkerchief tied about her head, concealing +her hair, and surrounding her flat, livid, and wrinkled +brows; her nose was long and straight; her cheek-bones +prominent; her cheeks furrowed; her complexion bilious +and sallow; the corners of her mouth, always curved +downwards, rendered still harsher the expression of her +countenance, as chilling, sinister, and immovable as a +marble mask. Her gray eyebrows surmounted her dull +blue eyes.</p> + +<p>The felon's widow was employed with needlework, as +well as her two daughters. The eldest girl was tall and +forbidding like her mother, with her features, calm, harsh, +and repulsive, her thin nose, her ill-formed mouth, and +her pale look. Her yellow complexion, which resembled +a ripe quince, had procured for her the name of Calabash +(<i>Calebasse</i>). She was not in mourning, but wore a +brown gown, whilst a cap of black tulle did not conceal +two bands of scanty hair of dull and dingy light brown.</p> + +<p>François, the youngest of the Martial sons, was sitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +on a low stool repairing an <i>aldrel</i>, a thin-meshed net +forbidden to be used on the Seine. In spite of the tan +of his features, this boy seemed in perfect health; a +forest of red hair covered his head; his face was round, +his lips thick, his forehead projecting, his eyes quick and +piercing. He was not like his mother or his elder sister, +but had a subdued and sly look, as from time to time, +through the thick mass of hair that fell over his eyes, he +threw a stealthy and fearful glance at his mother, or +exchanged a look of intelligence and affection with his +little sister, Amandine.</p> + +<p>The latter was seated beside her brother, and was +occupied, not in marking, but in unmarking, some linen +stolen on the previous evening. She was nine years old, +and was as like her brother as her sister was like her +mother. Her features, without being more regular, were +less coarse than those of François. Although covered +with freckles, her complexion was remarkably clear, her +lips thick and red, her hair also red, but silky, and her +eyes, though small, were of a clear bright blue. When +Amandine's look met that of her brother, she turned a +glance towards the door, and then François replied by +sigh; after which, calling his sister's attention by a slight +gesture, he counted with the end of his needle ten loops +of the net. This was meant to imply, in the symbolical +language of children, that their brother Martial would +not return until ten o'clock that evening.</p> + +<p>Seeing these two women so silent and ill-looking, and +the two poor little mute, frightened, uneasy children, we +might suppose they were two executioners and two victims. +Calabash, perceiving that Amandine had ceased +from her occupation for a moment, said, in a harsh +tone:</p> + +<p>"Come, haven't you done taking the mark out of that +shirt?"</p> + +<p>The little girl bowed her head without making any +reply, and, by the aid of her fingers and scissors, hastily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +finished taking out the red cotton threads which marked +the letters in the linen.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes Amandine, addressing the widow +timidly, showed her the shirt, and said:</p> + +<p>"Mother, I have done it."</p> + +<p>Without making any reply, the widow threw her +another piece of linen. The child did not catch it +quickly enough, and it fell on the ground. Her tall +sister gave her, with her hand as hard as wood, a sharp +slap on the arm, saying:</p> + +<p>"You stupid brat!"</p> + +<p>Amandine resumed her seat, and set to work actively, +after having exchanged with her brother a glance of her +eye, into which a tear had started.</p> + +<p>The same silence continued to reign in the kitchen. +Without, the wind still moaned and dashed about the +sign in front of the house. This dismal creaking, +and the dull boiling of a pot placed over the fire, were +the only sounds that were heard. The two children +observed, with secret fright, that their mother did not +speak. Although she was habitually taciturn, this +complete silence, and a certain drawing in of the +lips, announced to them that the widow was in what +they called her white passion, that is to say, was a prey +to concentrated irritation.</p> + +<p>The fire was going out for want of fuel.</p> + +<p>"François, a log," said Calabash.</p> + +<p>The young mender of forbidden nets looked into a +nook beside the chimney, and replied:</p> + +<p>"There are no more there."</p> + +<p>"Then go to the wood-pile," said Calabash.</p> + +<p>François murmured some unintelligible words, but did +not stir.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear me, François?" inquired Calabash, +harshly.</p> + +<p>The felon's widow laid on her knees a towel she was +also unmarking, and looked at her son. He had lowered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +his head, but he guessed he felt, if we may use the +expression, the fierce look his mother cast upon him, +and, fearful of encountering her dreaded countenance, +the boy remained without stirring.</p> + +<p>"I say, are you deaf, François?" said Calabash, in an +irritated tone. "Mother, you see!"</p> + +<p>The tall sister seemed to be happy in finding fault +with the two children, and to seek for them the punishment +which the widow pitilessly inflicted. Amandine, +without being observed, gently touched her brother's +elbow, to make him quietly do what Calabash desired. +François did not stir. The elder sister still looked +at her mother as demanding the punishment of the +offender, and the widow understood her. With her +long lean finger she pointed to a stick of stout and +pliant willow placed in a recess near the chimney. +Calabash stooped forward, took up this staff of chastisement, +and handed it to her mother. François had +seen his mother's gesture, and, rising suddenly, sprung +out of the reach of the threatening stick.</p> + +<p>"Do you want mother to break your back?" exclaimed +Calabash.</p> + +<p>The widow, still holding the willow stick in her hand, +pinching her pale lips together more and more, looked at +François with a fixed eye, but without uttering a syllable. +By the slight tremor of Amandine's hands, with her head +bent downwards, and the redness which suddenly overspread +her neck, it was easy to see that the child, although +habituated to such scenes, was alarmed at the fate +that threatened her brother, who had taken refuge in a +corner of the kitchen, and seemed frightened and irritated.</p> + +<p>"Mind yourself, mother's going to begin, and then it +will be too late!" said the tall sister.</p> + +<p>"I don't care!" replied François, turning pale. "I'd +rather be beaten as I was the day before yesterday, than—go +to the wood-pile—and at night—again."</p> + +<p>"And why?" asked Calabash, impatiently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am—afraid of the wood-pile—I—" answered +the boy, shuddering as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Afraid—you stupid! And of what?"</p> + +<p>François shook his head, but did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Will you answer? What are you afraid of?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But I am frightened."</p> + +<p>"Why, you've been there a hundred times, and last +night, too."</p> + +<p>"I won't go there any more."</p> + +<p>"Mother's going to begin."</p> + +<p>"So much the worse for me," exclaimed the lad. +"But she may beat me, kill me, and I'll not go near +the wood-pile—not at night."</p> + +<p>"Once more—why not?" inquired Calabash.</p> + +<p>"Why, because—"</p> + +<p>"Because—?"</p> + +<p>"Because there's some one—"</p> + +<p>"There's some one—"</p> + +<p>"Buried there!" said François, with a shudder.</p> + +<p>The felon's widow, in spite of her impassiveness, could +not repress a sudden start; her daughter did the same. +It seemed as though the two women were struck with an +electric shock.</p> + +<p>"Some one buried by the wood-pile?" said Calabash, +shrugging her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I tell you that just now, whilst I was piling up some +wood, I saw in a dark corner near the wood-pile a dead +man's bone; it was sticking a little way out of the +ground where it was damp, just by the corner," added +François.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear him, mother? Why, the boy's a fool!" +said Calabash, making a signal to the widow. "They +are mutton-bones I put there for washing-lye."</p> + +<p>"It was not a mutton-bone," replied the boy, with +alarm, "it was a dead person's bones,—a dead man's +bones. I saw quite plainly a foot that stuck out of the +ground."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And, of course, you told your brother, your dear +friend Martial, of your grand discovery, didn't you?" +asked Calabash, with brutal irony.</p> + +<p>François made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Nasty little spy!" said Calabash, savagely; "because +he is as cowardly as a cur, and would as soon see us +scragged, as our father was scragged before us."</p> + +<p>"If you call me a spy, I'll tell my brother Martial +everything!" said François, much enraged. "I haven't +told him yet, for I haven't seen him since; but, when he +comes here this evening, I'll—"</p> + +<p>The child could not finish; his mother came up to +him, calm and inexorable as ever. Although she habitually +stooped a little, her figure was still tall for a woman. +Holding the willow wand in one hand, with the other +the widow took her son by the arm, and, in spite of +alarm, resistance, prayers, and tears of the child, she +dragged him after her, and made him ascend the staircase +at the further end of the kitchen. After a moment's +interval, there was heard heavy trampling, mingled with +cries and sobs. Some minutes afterwards this noise +ceased. A door shut violently; the felon's widow descended. +Then, as impassive as ever, she put the stick +in its usual place, seated herself close to the fireplace, +and resumed her occupation, without saying a word.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h5>THE FRESHWATER PIRATE.</h5> + + +<p>After a silence of several minutes, the criminal's +widow said to her daughter:</p> + +<p>"Go and get some wood; we will set the wood-pile +to rights when Nicholas and Martial return home this +evening."</p> + +<p>"Martial! Do you mean to tell him also that—"</p> + +<p>"The wood, I say!" repeated the widow, abruptly +interrupting her daughter, who, accustomed to yield to +the imperious and iron rule of her mother, lighted a +lantern, and went out.</p> + +<p>During the preceding scene, Amandine, deeply disquieted +concerning the fate of François, whom she +tenderly loved, had not ventured either to lift up her +eyes, or dry her tears, which fell, drop by drop, on +to her lap. Her sobs, which she dared not give utterance +to, almost suffocated her, and she strove even to +repress the fearful beatings of her heart. Blinded by +her fast gathering tears, she sought to conceal her emotion +by endeavouring to pick the mark from the chemise +given to her, but, from the nervous trembling of her +hand, she ran the scissors into her finger sufficiently +deep to cause considerable effusion of blood; but the +poor child thought much less of the pain she experienced +than of the certain punishment which awaited +her for staining the linen with her blood. Happily +for her, the widow was too deeply absorbed in profound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +reflection to take any notice of what had occurred. +Calabash now returned, bearing a basket filled with +wood. To the inquiring look of her mother, she returned +an affirmative nod of the head, which was +intended to acquaint her with the fact of the dead +man's foot being actually above the ground. The widow +compressed her lips, and continued the work she was +occupied upon; the only difference perceptible in her +being that she plied her needle with increased rapidity. +Calabash, meanwhile, renewed the fire, superintended +the state of the cookery progressing in the saucepan +beside the hearth, and then resumed her seat near her +mother.</p> + +<p>"Nicholas is not here yet," said she to her parent. +"It is to be hoped that the old woman who this morning +engaged him to meet a gentleman from Bradamanti has +not led him into any scrape. She had such a very offhand +way with her; she would neither give any explanation +as to the nature of the business Nicholas was wanted +for, nor tell her name, or where she came from."</p> + +<p>The widow shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You do not consider Nicholas is in any danger, I +see, mother. And, after all, I dare say you are quite +right! The old woman desired him to be on the Quai +de Billy, opposite the landing-place, about seven o'clock +in the evening, and wait there for a person who wished +to speak with him, and who would utter the word +'Bradamanti' as a sort of countersign. Certainly +there is nothing very perilous in doing so much. No +doubt Nicholas is late from having to-day found, as he +did yesterday, something on the road. Look at this +capital linen which he contrived to filch from a boat, +in which a laundress had just left it!" So saying, she +pointed to one of the pieces of linen Amandine was +endeavouring to pick the mark out of. Then, addressing +the child, she said, "What do folks mean when +they talk of filching?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I believe," answered the frightened child, without +venturing to look up, "it means taking things that are +not ours."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you little fool! It means stealing, not taking. +Do you understand?—stealing!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sister!"</p> + +<p>"And when one can steal as cleverly as Nicholas, +there is no need to want for anything. Look at that +linen he filched yesterday; how comfortably it set us +all up; and that, too, with no other trouble than just +taking out the marks; isn't it true, mother?" added +Calabash, with a burst of laughter, which displayed her +decayed and irregular teeth, yellow and jaundiced as +her complexion.</p> + +<p>The widow received this pleasantry with cold indifference.</p> + +<p>"Talking of fitting ourselves up without any expense," +continued Calabash, "it strikes me we might possibly do +so at another shop. You know quite well that an old +man has come, within the last few days, to live in the +country-house belonging to M. Griffon, the doctor of +the hospital at Paris. I mean that lone house about +a hundred steps from the river's side, just opposite the +lime-kilns,—eh, mother? You understand me, don't +you?"</p> + +<p>The widow bowed her head, in token of assent.</p> + +<p>"Well, Nicholas was saying yesterday that it was +very likely a good job might be made out of it," pursued +Calabash. "Now I have ascertained, this very morning, +that there is good booty to be found there. The best +way will be to send Amandine to watch the place a +little; no one will take notice of a child like her; and +she could pretend to be just playing about, and amusing +herself; all the time she can take notice of everything, +and will be able to tell us all she sees or hears. Do +you hear what I say?" added Calabash, roughly addressing +Amandine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, sister," answered the trembling child; "I will +be sure to do as you wish me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is what you always say; but you never do +more than promise, you little slink! That time that I +desired you to take a five-franc piece out of the grocer's +till at Asnières, while I managed to keep the man occupied +at the other end of the shop, you did not choose to +obey me; and yet you might have done it so easily; no +one ever mistrusts a child. Pray what was your reason +for not doing as you were bid?"</p> + +<p>"Because, sister, my heart failed me, and I was +afraid."</p> + +<p>"And yet, the other day, you took a handkerchief out +of the peddler's pack, when the man was selling his +goods inside the public-house. Pray did he find it out, +you silly thing?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, sister, you know the handkerchief was for +you, not me; and you made me do it. Besides, it was +not money."</p> + +<p>"What difference does that make?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, why, taking a handkerchief is not half so wicked +as stealing money!"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word," said Calabash, contemptuously, +"these are mighty fine notions! I suppose it is Martial +stuffs your head with all this rubbish. I suppose +you will run open-mouthed to tell him every word we +have said,—eh, little spy? But Lord bless you! We +are not afraid of you or Martial either; you can neither +eat us nor drink us, that is one good thing." Then, +addressing herself to the widow, Calabash continued, +"I tell you what, mother, that fellow will get himself +into no good by trying to rule, and domineer, and lay +down the law here, as he does; both Nicholas and +myself are determined not to submit to it. He sets +both Amandine and François against everything either +you or I order them to do. Do you think this can last +much longer?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No!" said the mother, in a harsh, abrupt voice.</p> + +<p>"Ever since his Louve has been sent to St. Lazare, +Martial has gone on like a madman, savage as a bear +with every one. Pray is it our fault? Can we help his +sweetheart being put in prison? Only let her show her +face here when she comes out, and I'll serve her in such +a way she sha'n't forget one while! I'll match her! +I'll—"</p> + +<p>Here the widow, who had been buried in profound +reflection, suddenly interrupted her daughter by saying:</p> + +<p>"You think something profitable might be got out of +the old fellow who lives in the doctor's house, do you +not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother!"</p> + +<p>"He looks poor and shabby as any common beggar!"</p> + +<p>"And, for all that, he is a nobleman."</p> + +<p>"A nobleman?"</p> + +<p>"True as you're alive! And, what's more, he carries +a purse full of gold, spite of his always going into Paris, +and returning, on foot, leaning on an old stick, just for +all the world like a poor wretch that had not a sou in +the world."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that he has gold?"</p> + +<p>"A little while ago I was at the post-office at +Asnières, to inquire whether there was any letter for +us from Toulon—"</p> + +<p>At these words, which recalled the circumstance of +her son's confinement in the galleys, the brows of the +widow were contracted with a dark frown, while a half +repressed sigh escaped her lips. Unheeding these signs +of perturbation, Calabash proceeded:</p> + +<p>"I was waiting my turn, when the old man who lives +at the doctor's house entered the office. I knew him +again directly, by his white hair and beard, his dark complexion, +and thick black eyebrows. He does not look +like one that would be easily managed, I can tell you; +and, spite of his age, he has the appearance of a determined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +old fool that would die sooner than yield. He +walked straight up to the postmistress. 'Pray,' said he, +'have you any letters from Angers for M. le Comte de +Remy?' 'Yes,' replied the woman, 'here is one.' +'Then it is for me,' said the old man; 'here is my passport.' +While the postmistress was examining it, he +drew out a green silk purse, to pay the postage; and, +I promise you, one end was stuffed with gold till it +looked as large as an egg. I know it was gold, for I +saw the bright, yellow pieces shining through the +meshes of the purse; and I am quite certain there +must have been at least forty or fifty louis in it!" +cried Calabash, her eyes glowing with a covetous eagerness +to possess herself of such a treasure. "And only +to think," continued she, "of a person, with all that +money in his pocket, going about like an old beggar! +No doubt he is some old miser, too rich to be able to +count his hoards. One good thing, mother, we know +his name; that may assist us in gaining admittance into +the house. As soon as Amandine can find out for us +whether he has any servants or not—"</p> + +<p>A loud barking of dogs here interrupted Calabash.</p> + +<p>"Listen, mother," cried she; "no doubt the dogs +hear the sound of a boat approaching; it must be +either Martial or Nicholas."</p> + +<p>At the mention of Martial's name, the features of +Amandine expressed a sort of troubled joy. After +waiting for some minutes, during which the anxious +looks of the impatient child were fixed on the door, +she saw, to her extreme regret, Nicholas, the future +accomplice of Barbillon, make his appearance. The +physiognomy of the youth was at once ignoble and +ferocious; small in figure, short in stature, and mean +in appearance, no one would have deemed him a likely +person to pursue the dangerous and criminal path he +trod. Unhappily, a sort of wild, savage energy supplied +the place of that physical force in which the hardened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +youth was deficient. Over his blue loose frock he wore +a kind of vest, without sleeves, made of goatskin, +covered with long brown hair. As he entered, he threw +on the ground a lump of copper, which he had with +difficulty carried on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"A famous good night I have made of it, mother!" +said he, in a hoarse and hollow voice, after he had freed +himself from his burden. "Look there! There's a +prize. Well, I've got three more lumps of copper, +quite as big as that, in my boat, a bundle of clothes, +and a case filled with something, I know not what, +for I did not waste my time in opening it. Perhaps +I have been robbed on my way home; we shall +see."</p> + +<p>"And the man you were to meet on the Quai de +Billy?" inquired Calabash, while the widow regarded +her son in silence.</p> + +<p>The only reply made by the young man consisted in +his plunging his hand into the pocket of his trousers, +and jingling a quantity of silver.</p> + +<p>"Did you take all that from him?" cried Calabash.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't; he shelled out two hundred francs of +his own accord; and he will fork out eight hundred +more as soon as I have—But that's enough; let's, +first of all, unload my boat; we can jabber afterwards. +Is not Martial here?"</p> + +<p>"No," said his sister.</p> + +<p>"So much the better; we will put away the swag +before he sees it; leastways, if he can be kept from +knowing about it."</p> + +<p>"What! Are you afraid of him, you coward?" +asked Calabash, provokingly.</p> + +<p>Nicholas shrugged his shoulders significantly; then +replied:</p> + +<p>"Afraid of him? No, I should rather think not! +But I have a strong suspicion he means to sell us,—that +is my only fear; as for any other sort of dread,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +my weazen-slicer (knife) has rather too keen an edge +for that!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, when he is not here, you are full of boast and +brag; but only let him show his face, and you are quiet +as a mouse!"</p> + +<p>This reproach seemed quite thrown away upon +Nicholas, who, affecting not to have heard it, +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Come, come! Let's unload the boat at once. +Where is François, mother? He could help us a +good deal."</p> + +<p>"Mother has locked him up, after having preciously +flogged him; and, I can tell you, he will have to go to +bed without any supper."</p> + +<p>"Well and good as far as that goes; but still, he +might lend a hand in unloading the boat,—eh, mother? +Because, then myself and Calabash could fetch all in at +once."</p> + +<p>The widow raised her hand, and pointed with her +finger towards the ceiling. Her daughter perfectly +comprehended the signal, and departed at once to +fetch François.</p> + +<p>The countenance of the widow Martial had become +less cloudy since the arrival of Nicholas, whom she +greatly preferred to Calabash, but by no means entertaining +for him the affection she felt for her Toulon son, +as she designated him; for the maternal love of this +ferocious woman appeared to increase in proportion to +the criminality of her offspring. This perverse preference +will serve to account for the widow's indifference +towards her two younger children, neither of whom +exhibited any disposition to evil, as well as her perfect +hatred of Martial, her eldest son, who, although not +leading an altogether irreproachable life, might still +have passed for a perfectly honest and well-conducted +person if placed in comparison with Nicholas, Calabash, +or his brother, the felon at Toulon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Which road did you take to-night?" inquired the +widow of her son.</p> + +<p>"Why, as I returned from the Quai de Billy, where, +you know, I had to go to meet the gentleman who +appointed to see me there, I spied a barge moored alongside +the quay; it was as dark as pitch. 'Halloa!' says +I, 'no light in the cabin? No doubt,' says I, 'all hands +are ashore. I'll just go on board, and have a look; if I +meet any one, it's easy to ask for a bit of string, and +make up a fudge about wanting to splice my oar.' So +up the side I climbs, and ventures into the cabin. Not +a soul was there; so I began collecting all I could find: +clothes, a great box, and, on the deck, four quintals of +copper. So, you may guess, I was obliged to make two +journeys. The vessel was loaded with copper and iron; +but here comes François and Calabash. Now, then, let's +be off to the boat. Here, you young un, you Amandine! +Look sharp, and make yourself useful; you can carry +the clothes; we must get new things, you know, before +we can throw aside our old ones."</p> + +<p>Left alone, the widow busied herself in preparations +for the family supper. She placed on the table bottles, +glasses, earthenware, plates, with forks and spoons of +silver; and, by the time this occupation was completed, +her offspring returned heavily laden.</p> + +<p>Little François staggered beneath the weight of copper +which he carried on his shoulders, and Amandine was +almost buried beneath the mass of stolen garments which +she bore on her head, while Nicholas and Calabash +brought in between them a wooden case, on the top +of which lay the fourth lump of copper.</p> + +<p>"The case,—the case!" cried Calabash, with savage +eagerness. "Come, let's rip it open, and know what's +in it."</p> + +<p>The lumps of copper were flung on the ground. +Nicholas took the heavy hatchet he carried in his belt, +and introduced its strong iron head between the lid and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +the box which he had set down in the middle of the +kitchen, and endeavoured with all his strength to force +it open. The red and flickering light of the fire illumined +this scene of pillage, while, from without, the loud +gusts of the night wind increased in violence.</p> + +<p>Nicholas, meanwhile, attired in his goatskin vest, +stooped over the box, and essayed with all his might +to wrench off the top, breaking out into the most +horrible and blasphemous expressions, as he found the +solidity of the fastenings resist all his endeavours to +arrive at a knowledge of its contents; and Calabash, +her eyes inflamed by covetousness, her cheeks flushed +by the excitement of plunder, knelt down beside the +case, on which she leaned her utmost weight, in order +to give more power to the action of the lever employed +by Nicholas. The widow, separated from the group by +the table, on the other side of which she was standing, +in her eagerness to behold the spoils, threw herself +almost across the table, the better to gaze on the booty; +her longing eyes sparkled with eagerness to learn the +value of it. And finally—though unhappily, too true +to human nature—the two children, whose naturally +good inclinations had so often triumphed over the sea +of vice and domestic corruption by which they were +surrounded, even they, forgetting at once both their +fears and their scruples, were alike infected by the +same fatal curiosity.</p> + +<p>Huddling close to each other, their eyes glittering +with excitement, the breathing short and quick, François +and Amandine seemed of all the party most impatient +to ascertain the contents of the case, and the most +irritated and out of patience with the slow progress +made by Nicholas in his attempts to break it open. At +length the lid yielded to the powerful and repeated +blows dealt on it by the vigorous arm of the young +man, and as its fragments fell on the ground a loud, +exulting cry rose from the joyful and almost breathless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +group, who, joining in one wild mass, from the mother +to the little girl, rushed forward, and with savage +haste threw themselves on the opened box, which, +forwarded, doubtless, by some house in Paris to a +fashionable draper and mercer residing near the +banks of the river, contained a large assortment of +the different materials employed in female attire.</p> + +<p>"Nicholas has not done amiss!" cried Calabash, +unfolding a piece of mousseline-de-laine.</p> + +<p>"No, faith!" returned the plunderer, opening, in his +turn, a parcel of silk handkerchiefs; "I shall manage +to pay myself for my trouble."</p> + +<p>"Levantine, I declare!" cried the widow, dipping +into the box, and drawing forth a rich silk. "Ah, +that is a thing that fetches a price as readily as a loaf +of bread."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bras Rouge's receiver, who lives in the Rue du +Temple, will buy all the finery, and be glad of it. And +Father Micou, the man who lets furnished lodgings in +the Quartier St. Honoré, will take the rest of the swag."</p> + +<p>"Amandine," whispered François to his little sister, +"what a beautiful cravat one of those handsome silk +handkerchiefs Nicholas is holding in his hand would +make, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; and what a sweet pretty <i>marmotte</i> it would +make for me!" replied the child, in rapture at the +very idea.</p> + +<p>"Well, it must be confessed, Nicholas," said Calabash, +"that it was a lucky thought of yours to go on board +that barge,—famous! Look, here are shawls, too! +How many, I wonder? One, two, three. And just +see here, mother! This one is real Bourre de Soie."</p> + +<p>"Mother Burette would give at least five hundred +francs for the lot," said the widow, after closely examining +each article.</p> + +<p>"Then, I'll be sworn," answered Nicholas, "if she'll +give that, the things are worth at least fifteen hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +francs. But, as the old saying is, 'The receiver's as +bad as the thief.' Never mind; so much the worse for +us! I'm no hand at splitting differences; and I shall +be quite flat enough this time to let Mother Burette +have it all her own way, and Father Micou also, for +the matter of that; but then, to be sure, he is a friend."</p> + +<p>"I don't care for that, he'd cheat you as soon as +another; I'm up to the old dealer in marine stores. +But then these rascally receivers know we cannot do +without them," continued Calabash, putting on one of +the shawls, and folding it around her, "and so they +take advantage of it."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing else," said Nicholas, coming to the +bottom of the box.</p> + +<p>"Now, let us put everything away," said the widow.</p> + +<p>"I shall keep this shawl for myself," exclaimed Calabash.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will, will you?" cried Nicholas, roughly; +"that depends whether I choose to let you or not. You +are always laying your clutches on something or other; +you are Madame Free-and-Easy!"</p> + +<p>"You are so mighty particular yourself—about taking +whatever you have a fancy to, arn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's as different as different can be! I filch +at the risk of my life; and if I had happened to have +been nabbed on board the barge, you would not have +been trounced for it."</p> + +<p>"La! Well, don't make such a fuss,—take your shawl! +I'm sure I don't want it; I was only joking about it," +continued Calabash, flinging the shawl back into the +box; "but you never can stand the least bit of fun."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't speak because of the shawl; I am not +stingy enough to squabble about a trumpery shawl. One +more or less would make no difference in the price +Mother Burette would give for the things; she buys in +the lump, you know," continued Nicholas; "only I consider +that, instead of calling out you should keep the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +shawl, it would have been more decent to have asked me +to give it you. There—there it is—keep it—you may +have it; keep it, I say, or else I'll just fling it into the +fire to make the pot boil."</p> + +<p>These words entirely appeased Calabash, who forthwith +accepted the shawl without further scruple.</p> + +<p>Nicholas appeared seized with a sudden fit of generosity, +for, ripping off the fag end from one of the pieces +of silk, he contrived to separate two silk handkerchiefs, +which he threw to Amandine and François, who had +been contemplating them with longing looks, saying:</p> + +<p>"There! that's for you brats; just a little taste to +give you a relish for prigging; it's a thing you'll take +to more kindly if it's made agreeable to you. And now, +get off to bed. Come, look sharp, I've got a deal to say +to mother. There—you shall have some supper brought +up-stairs to you."</p> + +<p>The delighted children clapped their hands with joy, +and triumphantly waved the stolen handkerchiefs which +had just been presented to them.</p> + +<p>"What do you say now, you little stupids?" said +Calabash to them; "will you ever go and be persuaded +by Martial again? Did he ever give you beautiful silk +handkerchiefs like those, I should be glad to know?"</p> + +<p>François and Amandine looked at each other, then +hung down their heads, and made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Answer, can't you?" persisted Calabash, roughly. +"I ask you whether you ever received such presents +from Martial?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered François, gazing with intense delight +on his bright red silk handkerchief, "Brother Martial +never gives us anything."</p> + +<p>To which Amandine replied, in a low yet firm voice:</p> + +<p>"Ah, François, that is because Martial has nothing to +give anybody."</p> + +<p>"He might have as much as other people if he chose to +steal it, mightn't he, François?" said Nicholas, brutally.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, brother," replied François. Then, as if glad +to quit the subject, he resumed his ecstatic contemplation +of his handkerchief, saying:</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a real beauty it is! What a fine cravat it +will make for Sundays, won't it?"</p> + +<p>"That it will," answered Amandine. "And just see, +François, how charming I shall look with my sweet +pretty handkerchief tied around my head,—so, brother."</p> + +<p>"What a rage the little children at the lime-kilns will +be in when they see you pass by!" said Calabash, fixing +her malignant glances on the poor children to ascertain +whether they comprehended the full and spiteful meaning +of her words,—the hateful creature seeking, by the +aid of vanity, to stifle the last breathings of virtue +within their young minds. "The brats at the lime-kilns," +continued she, "will look like beggar children +beside you, and be ready to burst with envy and jealousy +at seeing you two looking like a little lady and gentleman +with your pretty silk handkerchiefs."</p> + +<p>"So they will," cried François. "Ah, and I like my +new cravat ever so much the better, Sister Calabash, +now you have told me that the children at the kilns will +be so mad with me for being smarter than they; don't +you, Amandine?"</p> + +<p>"No, François, I don't find that makes any difference. +But I am quite glad I have got such a nice new pretty +<i>marmotte</i> as that will make, all the same."</p> + +<p>"Go along with you, you little mean-spirited thing!" +cried Calabash, disdainfully; "you have not a grain of +proper pride in you." Then, snatching from the table a +morsel of bread and cheese, she thrust them into the +children's hands, saying, "Now, get off to bed,—there +is a lanthorn; take care you don't set fire to anything, +and be sure to put it out before you go to sleep."</p> + +<p>"And hark ye," added Nicholas, "remember that if +you dare to say one word to Martial of the box, the copper, +or the clothes, I'll make you dance upon red-hot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +iron; and, besides that, your pretty silk handkerchiefs +shall be taken from you."</p> + +<p>After the departure of the children, Nicholas and +his sister concealed the box, with its contents, the +clothes, and lumps of copper, in a sort of cellar below +the kitchen, the entrance to which was by a low flight of +steps not far from the fireplace.</p> + +<p>"That'll do!" cried the hardened youth. "And now, +mother, give us a glass of your very best brandy; none +of your poor, every-day stuff, but some of the real right +sort, and plenty of it. Faith! I think I've earned a +right to eat and to drink whatever you happen to have +put by for grand occasions. Come, Calabash, look sharp, +and let's have supper. Never mind Martial, he may +amuse himself with picking the bones we may leave; +they are good enough for him. Now, then, for a bit of +gossip over the affair of the individual I went to meet +on the Quai de Billy, because that little job must be +settled at once if I mean to pouch the money he promised +me. I'll tell you all about it, mother, from beginning +to end. But first give me something to moisten +my throat. Give me some drink, I say! Devilish hard +to be obliged to ask so many times, considering what I +have done for you all to-day! I tell you I can stand +treat, if that's what you are waiting for."</p> + +<p>And here Nicholas again jingled the five-franc pieces +he had in his pocket; then flinging his goatskin waistcoat +and black woollen cap into a distant part of the +room, he seated himself at table before a huge dish of +ragout made of mutton, a piece of cold veal, and a salad. +As soon as Calabash had brought wine and brandy, the +widow, still gloomy and imperturbable, took her place at +one side of the table, having Nicholas on her right hand +and her daughter on her left; the other side of the table +had been destined for Martial and the two younger children. +Nicholas then drew from his pocket a long and +wide Spanish knife, with a horn handle and a trenchant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +blade. Contemplating this murderous weapon with a +sort of savage pleasure, he said to the widow:</p> + +<p>"There's my bread-earner,—what an edge it has! +Talking of bread, mother, just hand me some of that +beside you."</p> + +<p>"And talking of knives, too," replied Calabash, +"François has found out—you know what—in the +wood-pile!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Nicholas, not understanding +her.</p> + +<p>"Why, he saw—one of the feet!"</p> + +<p>"Phew!" whistled Nicholas; "what, of the man?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the widow, concisely, at the same +time placing a large slice of meat on her son's plate.</p> + +<p>"That's droll enough," returned the young ruffian; +"I'm sure the hole was dug deep enough; but I suppose +the ground has sunk in a good deal."</p> + +<p>"It must all be thrown into the river to-night," said +the widow.</p> + +<p>"That is the surest way to get rid of further bother," +said Nicholas.</p> + +<p>"Yes," chimed in Calabash, "throw it in the river, +with a heavy stone fastened to it, with part of an old +boat-chain."</p> + +<p>"We are not quite such fools as that either," returned +Nicholas, pouring out for himself a brimming glass of +wine. Then, holding the bottle up, he said, addressing +the widow: "Come, mother, let's touch glasses, and +drink to each other. You seem a cup too low, and it +will cheer you up."</p> + +<p>The widow drew back her glass, shook her head, and +said to her son:</p> + +<p>"Tell me of the man you met on the Quai de Billy."</p> + +<p>"Why, this is it," said Nicholas, without ceasing to +eat and drink: "When I got to the landing-place, I fastened +my boat, and went up the steps of the quay as the +clock was striking seven at the military bakehouse at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +Chaillot. You could not see four yards before you, but +I walked up and down by the parapet wall for a quarter +of an hour, when I heard footsteps moving softly behind +me. I stopped, and a man, completely wrapped up in a +mantle, approached me, coughing as he advanced. As I +paused, he paused; and all I could make out of him was +that his cloak hid his nose, and his hat fell over his +eyes."</p> + +<p>We will inform our readers that this mysterious personage +was Jacques Ferrand, the notary, who, anxious +to get rid of Fleur-de-Marie, had, that same morning, +despatched Madame Séraphin to the Martials, whom +he hoped to find the ready instruments of his fresh +crime.</p> + +<p>"'Bradamanti,' said the man to me," continued +Nicholas; "that was the password agreed upon by the +old woman, that I might know my man. 'Ravageur,' +says I, as was agreed. 'Is your name Martial?' he +asked. 'Yes, master.' 'A woman was at your isle to-day: +what did she say to you?' 'That you wished to +speak to me on the part of M. Bradamanti.' 'You have +a boat?' 'We have four, that's our number: boatmen +and ravageurs, from father to son, at your service.' +'This is what I want you to do if you are not +afraid—' 'Afraid of what, master?' 'Of seeing a +person accidentally drowned. Only you must assist with +the accident. Do you understand?' 'Perfectly, master; +we must make some individual have a draught of +the Seine, as if by accident? I'll do it; only, as the +dish to be dressed is a dainty one, why, the seasoning +will cost rather dear.' 'How much for two?' 'For +two? What! are there two persons who are to have a +mess of broth in the river?' 'Yes.' 'Five hundred +francs a head, master; that's not too dear.' 'Agreed, +for a thousand francs.' 'Money down, master?' 'Two +hundred francs now, and the rest afterwards.' 'Then +you doubt me, master?' 'No; you may pocket the two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +hundred francs, without completing the bargain.' 'And +you may say, after it's done, "Don't you wish you may +get it?"' 'That as may be; but does it suit you? yes +or no. Two hundred francs down, and on the evening +of the day after to-morrow, here, at nine o'clock, I will +give you the eight hundred francs.' 'And who will inform +you that I have done the trick with these two persons?' +'I shall know; that is my affair. Is it a +bargain?' 'Yes, master.' 'Here are two hundred +francs. Now listen to me; you will know again the old +woman who was at your house this morning?' 'Yes, +master.' 'To-morrow, or next day at latest, you will +see her come, about four o'clock in the evening, on the +bank in face of your island with a young fair girl. The +old woman will make a signal to you by waving her +handkerchief.' 'Yes, master.' 'What time does it take +to go from the bank-side to your island?' 'Twenty +minutes, quite.' 'Your boats are flat-bottomed?' 'Flat +as your hand, master.' 'Then you must make, very +skilfully, a sort of large hole in the bottom of one of +these boats, so that, when you open it, the water may +flow in rapidly. Do you understand?' 'Quite well, +master; how clever you are! I have by me a worn-out +old boat, half rotten, that I was going to break up, but +it will just do for this one more voyage.' 'You will then +leave the island with this boat, with the hole prepared; +let a good boat follow you, conducted by some one of +your family. Go to the shore, accost the old woman +and the fair young girl, and take them on board the +boat with the hole in it; then go back towards your +island; but, when you are at some distance from the +bank, pretend to stoop for some purpose, open the hole, +and leap into the other boat, whilst the old woman and +the fair young girl—' 'Drink out of the same cup,—that's +it,—eh, master?' 'But are you sure you will +not be interrupted? Suppose some customers should +come to your house?' 'There is no fear, master. At<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +this time, and especially in winter, no one comes, it is +our dead time of year; and, if they come, that would +not be troublesome; on the contrary, they are all good +friends.' 'Very well. Besides, you in no way compromise +yourselves; the boat will be supposed to have +sunk from old age, and the old woman who brings the +young girl will disappear with her. In order to be quite +assured that they are drowned (by accident, mind! quite +by accident), you can, if they rise to the surface, or if +they cling to the boat, appear to do all in your power to +assist them, and—' 'Help them—to sink again! +Good, master!' 'It will be requisite that the passage +be made after sunset, in order that it may be quite dark +when they fall into the water.' 'No, master; for if one +does not see clear, how shall we know if the two women +swallow their doses at one gulp, or want a second?' +'True; and, therefore, the accident will take place before +sunset.' 'All right, master; but the old woman has +no suspicion, has she?' 'Not the slightest. When she +arrives, she will whisper to you: "The young girl is to +be drowned; a little while before you sink the boat, +make me a signal, that I may be ready to escape with +you." You will reply to the old woman in such a way as +to avoid all suspicion.' 'So that she may suppose the +young 'un only is going to swallow the dose?' 'But +which she will drink as well as the fair girl.' 'It's +"downily" arranged, master.' 'But mind the old +woman has not the slightest suspicion.' 'Be easy on +that score, master; she will be done as nicely as possible.' +'Well, then, good luck to you, my lad! If I am +satisfied, perhaps I shall give you another job.' 'At +your service, master.' Then," said the ruffian, in conclusion, +"I left the man in the cloak, and 'prigged the +swag' I've just brought in."</p> + +<p>We may glean from Nicholas's recital that the notary +was desirous, by a twofold crime, of getting rid at once +of Fleur-de-Marie and Madame Séraphin, by causing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +latter to fall into the snare which she thought was only +spread for the Goualeuse. It is hardly necessary to repeat +that, justly alarmed lest the Chouette should inform +Fleur-de-Marie at any moment that she had been abandoned +by Madame Séraphin, Jacques Ferrand believed he +had a paramount interest in getting rid of this young +girl, whose claims might mortally injure him both in his +fortune and in his reputation. As to Madame Séraphin, +the notary, by sacrificing her, got rid of one of his accomplices +(Bradamanti was the other), who might ruin +him, whilst they ruined themselves, it is true; but +Jacques Ferrand believed that the grave would keep +his secrets better than any personal interests.</p> + +<p>The felon's widow and Calabash had listened attentively +to Nicholas, who had not paused except to swallow +large quantities of wine, and then he began to talk with +considerable excitement.</p> + +<p>"That is not all," he continued. "I have begun +another affair with the Chouette and Barbillon of the +Rue aux Fêves. It is a capital job, well planted; and if +it does not miss fire, it will bring plenty of fish to net, +and no mistake. It is to clean out a jewel-matcher, +who has sometimes as much as fifty thousand francs in +jewelry in her basket."</p> + +<p>"Fifty thousand francs!" cried the mother and +daughter, whose eyes sparkled with cupidity.</p> + +<p>"Yes—quite. Bras Rouge is in it with us. He +yesterday opened upon the woman with a letter which +we carried to her—Barbillon and I—at her house, +Boulevard St. Denis. He's an out-and-outer, Bras Rouge +is! As he appears—and, I believe, is—well-to-do, +nobody mistrusts him. To make the jewel-matcher +bite he has already sold her a diamond worth four +hundred francs. She'll not be afraid to come towards +nightfall to his cabaret in the Champs Elysées. We +shall be concealed there. Calabash may come with us, +and take care of my boat along the side of the Seine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +If we are obliged to carry her off, dead or alive, that +will be a convenient conveyance, and one that leaves no +traces. There's a plan for you! That beggar Bras +Rouge is nothing but a good 'un!"</p> + +<p>"I have always distrusted Bras Rouge," said the +widow. "After that affair of the Rue Montmartre +your brother Ambroise was sent to Toulon, and Bras +Rouge was set at liberty."</p> + +<p>"Because he's so downy there's no proofs against +him. But betray others?—never!"</p> + +<p>The widow shook her head, as if she were only +half convinced of Bras Rouge's probity. After a few +moments' reflection she said:</p> + +<p>"I like much better that affair of the Quai de Billy +for to-morrow or next day evening,—the drowning the +two women. But Martial will be in the way as usual."</p> + +<p>"Will not the devil's thunder ever rid us of him?" +exclaimed Nicholas, half drunk, and striking his long +knife savagely on the table.</p> + +<p>"I have told mother that we had enough of him, and +that we could not go on in this way," said Calabash. +"As long as he is here we can do nothing with the +children."</p> + +<p>"I tell you that he is capable of one day denouncing +us,—the villain!" said Nicholas. "You see, mother, if +you would have believed me," he added, with a savage +and significant air, "all would have been settled!"</p> + +<p>"There are other means—"</p> + +<p>"This is the best!" said the ruffian.</p> + +<p>"Now? No!" replied the widow, with a tone so +decided that Nicholas was silent, overcome by the influence +of his mother, whom he knew to be as criminal, as +wicked, but still more determined than himself.</p> + +<p>The widow added, "To-morrow he will quit the island +for ever."</p> + +<p>"How?" inquired Nicholas and Calabash at the same +time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When he comes in pick a quarrel with him,—but +boldly, mind,—out to his face, as you have never yet +dared to do. Come to blows, if necessary. He is +powerful, but you will be two, for I will help you. +Mind, no steel,—no blood! Let him be beaten, but +not wounded."</p> + +<p>"And what then, mother?" asked Nicholas.</p> + +<p>"We shall then explain afterwards. We will tell +him to leave the island next day; if not, that the +scenes of the night before will occur over and over +again. I know him; these perpetual squabbles disgust +him; until now we have let him be too quiet."</p> + +<p>"But he is as obstinate as a mule, and is likely +enough to insist upon staying, because of the children," +observed Calabash.</p> + +<p>"He's a regular hound; but a row don't frighten +him," said Nicholas.</p> + +<p>"One? No!" said the widow. "But every day—day +by day—it is hell in earth, and he will give way."</p> + +<p>"Suppose he don't?"</p> + +<p>"Then I have another sure means to make him go +away,—this very night or to-morrow at farthest," +replied the widow, with a singular smile.</p> + +<p>"Really, mother!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I prefer rather to annoy him with a row; +and, if that don't do, why, then, it must be the other +way."</p> + +<p>"And if the other way does not succeed, either, +mother?" said Nicholas.</p> + +<p>"There is one which always succeeds," replied the +widow.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door opened, and Martial entered. It +blew so strong without that they had not heard the +barkings of the dogs at the return of the first-born +son of the felon's widow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h5>THE MOTHER AND SON.</h5> + + +<p>Unaware of the evil designs of his family, Martial +entered the kitchen slowly.</p> + +<p>Some few words let fall by La Louve in her conversation +with Fleur-de-Marie have already acquainted +the reader with the singular existence of this man. +Endowed with excellent natural instincts, incapable +of an action positively base or wicked, Martial did not, +however, lead a regular life: he poached on the water; +but his strength and his boldness inspired so much fear +that the keepers of the river shut their eyes on this +irregularity.</p> + +<p>To this illegal occupation Martial joined another that +was equally illicit. A redoubtable champion, he willingly +undertook—and more from excess of courage, +from love of the thing, than for gain—to avenge in +pugilistic or single-stick encounters those victims who +had been overcome by too powerful opponents.</p> + +<p>We should add that Martial was very particular in +the selection of those causes which he pleaded by +strength of fist, and usually took the part of the weak +against the strong.</p> + +<p>La Louve's lover was very much like François and +Amandine. He was of middle height, stout, and broad-shouldered; +his thick red hair, cropped short, came in +five points over his open brow; his close, harsh, short +beard, his broad, bluff cheeks, his projecting nose, flattened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +at the extremity, his blue and bold eyes, gave to +his masculine features a singularly resolute expression.</p> + +<p>He was covered with an old glazed hat; and, despite +the cold, he had only a worn-out blouse over his vest, +and a pair of velveteen trousers, which had seen considerable +service. He held in his hand a very thick, +knotted stick, which he put down beside him near the +dresser.</p> + +<p>A large dog, half terrier, half hound, with crooked +legs and a black hide, marked with bright red, came in +with Martial, but he remained close to the door, not +daring to approach the fire, nor the guests who were +sitting at table, experience having proved to old Miraut +(that was the name of Martial's poaching companion) +that he, as well as his master, did not possess much of +the sympathy of the family.</p> + +<p>"Where are the children?" were Martial's first +words, as he sat down to table.</p> + +<p>"Where they ought to be," replied Calabash, surlily.</p> + +<p>"Where are the children, mother?" said Martial +again, without taking the slightest notice of his sister's +reply.</p> + +<p>"Gone to bed," replied the widow, in a harsh tone.</p> + +<p>"Haven't they had their supper, mother?"</p> + +<p>"What's that to you?" exclaimed Nicholas, brutally, +after having swallowed a large glass of wine to increase +his courage, for his brother's disposition and strength +had a very strong effect on him.</p> + +<p>Martial, as indifferent to the attacks of Nicholas as to +those of Calabash, then said to his mother, "I'm sorry +the children are gone to bed so soon."</p> + +<p>"So much the worse," responded the widow.</p> + +<p>"Yes, so much the worse; for I like to have them +beside me when I am at supper."</p> + +<p>"And we, because they were troublesome and +annoyed us, have sent them off," cried Nicholas; +"and if you don't like it, why, you can go after them."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>Martial, astonished, looked steadfastly at his brother. +Then, as if convinced of the futility of a quarrel, he +shrugged his shoulders, cut off a slice of bread and a +piece of meat.</p> + +<p>The dog had come up towards Nicholas, although +keeping at a very respectful distance; and the ruffian, +irritated at the disdain with which his brother treated +him, and hoping to wear out his patience by ill-using +his dog, gave Miraut a savage kick, which made the +poor brute howl fearfully. Martial turned red, clasped +in his hand the knife he held, and struck violently +on the table with the handle; but, again controlling +himself, he called the dog to him, saying, quietly, "Here, +Miraut!" The hound came, and crouched at his master's +feet.</p> + +<p>This composure quite upset Nicholas's plans, who was +desirous of pushing his brother to extremities, in order +to produce an explosion. So he added, "I hate dogs—I +do; and I won't have this dog remain here." Martial's +only reply was to pour out a glass of wine, and drink it +off slowly. Exchanging a rapid glance with Nicholas, +the widow encouraged him by a signal to continue his +hostilities towards Martial, hoping, as we have said, that +a violent quarrel would arise that would lead to a rupture +and complete separation.</p> + +<p>Nicholas, then, taking up the willow stick which the +widow had used to beat François, went up to the dog, +and, striking him sharply, said, "Get out, you brute, +Miraut!"</p> + +<p>Up to this time Nicholas had often shown himself +sulkily offensive towards Martial, but he had never +dared to provoke him with so much audacity and +perseverance. La Louve's lover, thinking they were +desirous of driving him to extremities for some secret +motive, quelled every impulse of temper.</p> + +<p>At the cry of the beaten dog, Martial rose, opened the +door of the kitchen, made the dog go out, and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +returned, and went on with his supper. This incredible +patience, so little in harmony with Martial's usual demeanour, +puzzled and nonplussed his aggressors, who +looked at each other with amazement. He, affecting to +appear wholly unconscious of what was passing around +him, ate away with great appetite, keeping profound +silence.</p> + +<p>"Calabash, take the wine away," said the widow to +her daughter.</p> + +<p>She hastened to comply, when Martial said, "Stay, I +haven't done my supper."</p> + +<p>"So much the worse," said the widow, taking the +bottle away herself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's another thing!" answered La Louve's +lover. And pouring out a large glass of water, he +drank it, smacking his tongue, and exclaiming, "Capital +water!"</p> + +<p>This excessive calmness irritated the burning anger +of Nicholas, already heated by copious libations; but +still he hesitated at making a direct attack, well knowing +the vast power of his brother. Suddenly he cried +out, as if delighted at the idea, "Martial, you were quite +right to turn the dog out. It is a good habit to begin to +give way, for you have but to wait a bit, and you will +see us kick your sweetheart out just as we have driven +away your dog."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; for if La Louve is impudent enough to +come to the island when she leaves gaol," added Calabash, +who quite understood Nicholas's motive, "I'll +serve her out."</p> + +<p>"And I'll give her a dip in the mud by the hovel at +the end of the island," continued Nicholas; "and, if she +gets out, I'll give her a few rattlers over the nob with +my wooden shoe, the——"</p> + +<p>This insult addressed to La Louve, whom he loved +with savage ardour, triumphed over the pacific resolutions +of Martial; he frowned, and the blood mounted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +to his cheeks, whilst the veins in his brow swelled and +distended like cords. Still, he had so much control over +himself as to say to Nicholas, in a voice slightly altered +by his repressed wrath:</p> + +<p>"Take care of yourself! You are trying to pick a +quarrel, and you will find a bone to pick that will be +too tough for you."</p> + +<p>"A bone for me to pick?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I'll thrash you more soundly than I did +last time."</p> + +<p>"What! Nicholas," said Calabash, with a sardonic +grin, "did Martial thrash you? Did you hear that, +mother? I'm not astonished that Nicholas is so afraid +of him."</p> + +<p>"He walloped me, because, like a coward, he took me off +my guard," exclaimed Nicholas, turning pale with rage.</p> + +<p>"You lie! You attacked me unexpectedly; I knocked +you flat, and then showed you mercy. But if you talk +of my mistress,—I say, mind you, of my mistress,—this +time I look it over,—you shall carry my marks for +many a long day."</p> + +<p>"And suppose I choose to talk of La Louve?" +inquired Calabash.</p> + +<p>"Why, I'll pull your ears to put you on your guard; +and if you begin again, why, so will I."</p> + +<p>"And suppose I speak of her?" said the widow, +slowly.</p> + +<p>"You?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—I!"</p> + +<p>"You?" said Martial, making a violent effort over +himself; "you?"</p> + +<p>"You'll beat me, too, I suppose,—won't you?"</p> + +<p>"No; but, if you speak to me unkindly of La Louve, +I'll give Nicholas a hiding he shall long remember. So +now, mind! It is his affair as well as yours."</p> + +<p>"You?" exclaimed the ruffian, rising, and drawing +his dangerous Spanish knife; "you give me a hiding?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 317px;"><a name="image87" id="image87"></a> +<img src="images/i087.jpg" width="317" height="500" alt="The Brigand dashed at his brother. +Original Etching by Adrian Marcel." title="The Brigand dashed at his brother." /> +<span class="caption"><i>The Brigand dashed at his brother.</i><br /> +<span class="artist">Original Etching by Adrian Marcel.</span></span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nicholas, no steel!" cried the widow, quickly, leaving +her seat, and trying to seize her son's arm; but +he, drunk with wine and passion, repulsed his mother +savagely, and rushed at his brother.</p> + +<p>Martial receded rapidly, laid hold of the thick, +knotted stick which he had put down by the dresser, +as he entered, and betook himself to the defensive.</p> + +<p>"Nicholas, no steel!" repeated the widow.</p> + +<p>"Let him alone!" cried Calabash, taking up the +ravageur's hatchet.</p> + +<p>Nicholas, still brandishing his formidable knife, +watched for a moment when he could spring on his +brother.</p> + +<p>"I tell you," he exclaimed, "you and your trollop, +La Louve, that I'll slash your eyes out; and here goes +to begin! Help, mother! Help, Calabash! Let's make +cold meat of the scamp; he's been in our way too long +already!" And, believing the moment favourable for +his attack, the brigand dashed at his brother with his +uplifted knife.</p> + +<p>Martial, who was a dexterous cudgeller, retreated a +pace rapidly, raising his stick, which, as quick as lightning, +cut a figure of eight, and fell so heavily on the right +forearm of Nicholas that he, seized with a sudden and +overpowering pain, dropped his trenchant weapon.</p> + +<p>"Villain, you have broken my arm!" he shouted, +grasping with his left hand the right arm, which hung +useless by his side.</p> + +<p>"No; for I felt my stick rebound!" replied Martial, +kicking, as he spoke, the knife underneath the dresser.</p> + +<p>Then, taking advantage of the pain which Nicholas +was suffering, he seized him by the collar, and thrust +him violently backwards, until he had reached the door +of the little cellar we have alluded to, which he opened +with one hand, whilst, with the other, he thrust his +brother into it, and locked him in, all stupefied as he +was with this sudden attack.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, turning round upon the two women, he seized +Calabash by the shoulders, and, in spite of her resistance, +her shrieks, and a blow from the hatchet, which cut his +head slightly, he shut her up in the lower room of the +cabaret, which communicated with the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Then addressing the widow, who was still stupefied +with this manœuvre, as skilful as it was sudden, Martial +said to her, calmly, "Now, mother, you and I are alone."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are alone," replied the widow, and her +usually immobile features became excited, her sallow +skin grew red, a gloomy fire lighted up her dull eye, +whilst anger and hate gave to her countenance a terrible +expression. "Yes, we two are alone now!" she repeated, +in a menacing voice. "I have waited for this moment; +and at length you shall know all that I have on my +mind."</p> + +<p>"And I will tell you all I have on my mind."</p> + +<p>"If you live to be a hundred years old, I tell you you +shall remember this night."</p> + +<p>"I shall remember it, unquestionably. My brother +and sister have tried to murder me, and you have done +nothing to prevent them. But come, let me hear what +you have against me?"</p> + +<p>"What have I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Since your father's death you have acted nothing +but a coward's part."</p> + +<p>"I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a coward's! Instead of remaining with us to +support us, you went off to Rambouillet, to poach in the +woods with that man who sells game whom you knew +at Bercy."</p> + +<p>"If I had remained here, I should have been at the +galleys like Ambroise, or on the point of going there +like Nicholas. I would not be a robber like the rest, +and that is the cause of your hatred."</p> + +<p>"And what track are you following now? You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +steal game, you steal fish,—thefts without danger,—a +coward's thefts!"</p> + +<p>"Fish, like game, is no man's property. To-day +belongs to one, to-morrow to another. It is his who +can take it. I don't steal. As to being a coward—"</p> + +<p>"Why, you fight—and for money—men who are +weaker than yourself."</p> + +<p>"Because they have beaten men weaker than themselves."</p> + +<p>"A coward's trade,—a coward's trade!"</p> + +<p>"Why, there are more honest pursuits, it is true. +But it is not for you to tell me this!"</p> + +<p>"Then why did you not take up with those honest +trades, instead of coming here skulking and feeding out +of my saucepans?"</p> + +<p>"I give you the fish I catch, and what money I have. +It isn't much, but it's enough; and I don't cost you anything. +I have tried to be a locksmith to earn more; but +when one has from one's infancy led a vagabond life on +the river and in the woods, it is impossible to confine +oneself to one spot. It is a settled thing, and one's life +is decided. And then," added Martial, with a gloomy +air, "I have always preferred living alone on the water +or in the forest. There no one questions me; whilst +elsewhere men twit me about my father, who was (can +I deny it?) guillotined,—of my brother, a galley-slave,—of +my sister, a thief!"</p> + +<p>"And what do you say of your mother?"</p> + +<p>"I say—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I say she is dead."</p> + +<p>"You do right; it is as if I were, for I renounce you, +dastard! Your brother is at the galleys; your grandfather +and your father finished their lives daringly on +the scaffold, mocking the priest and the executioner! +Instead of avenging them you tremble!"</p> + +<p>"Avenging them?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, by showing yourself a real Martial, spitting at +the headsman's knife and the red cassock, and ending +like father, mother, brother, sister—"</p> + +<p>Accustomed as he was to the savage excitement of +his mother, Martial could not forbear shuddering. The +countenance of the widow as she uttered the last +words was fearful. She continued, with increasing +wrath:</p> + +<p>"Oh, coward! and even worse than coward! You +wish to be honest! Honest? Why, won't you ever +be despised, repulsed, as the son of an assassin or the +brother of a felon? But you, instead of rousing your +revenge and wrath, this makes you frightened! Instead +of biting, you run away! When they guillotined your +father, you left us,—coward! And you knew we could +not leave the island to go into the city, because they call +after us, and pelt us with stones, like mad dogs. Oh, +they shall pay for it, I can tell you,—they shall pay +for it!"</p> + +<p>"A man?—ten men would not make me afraid! +But to be called after by all the world as the son and +brother of criminals! Well, I could not endure it. I +preferred going into the woods and poaching with Pierre, +who sells game."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you remain in the woods?"</p> + +<p>"I returned because I got into trouble with a keeper, +and besides on the children's account, because they are +of an age to take to evil from example."</p> + +<p>"And what is that to you?"</p> + +<p>"To me? Why, I will not allow them to become +depraved like Ambroise, Nicholas, and Calabash."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>"And if they were left with you, then they would not +fail to become so. I went apprentice to try and gain a +livelihood, so that I might take them into my own care +and leave the island with the children; but in Paris +everything was known, and it was always, 'You son of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +the guillotined!' or, 'You brother of the felon!' I had +battles daily, and I grew tired of it."</p> + +<p>"But you didn't grow tired of being honest,—that +answered so well! Instead of having the pluck to come +to us, and do as we do,—as the children will do, in +spite of you,—yes, in spite of you! You think to +cajole them with your preaching! But we are always +here. François is already one of us, or nearly. Let +the occasion serve, and he'll be one of the band."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, no!"</p> + +<p>"You will see,—yes! I know what I say. He has +vice in him; but you spoil him. As to Amandine, as +soon as she is fifteen she will begin on her own account! +Ah, they throw stones at us! Ah, they pursue us like +mad dogs! They shall see what our family is made of! +Except you, dastard; for here you are the only one who +brings down shame upon us!"<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> These frightful facts are, unfortunately, not exaggerated. The following +is from the admirable report of M. de Bretignères on the Penitentiary +Colony of Mettray (March 12, 1843): +</p><p> +"The civil condition of our colonists it is important to state. Amongst +them we count thirty-two natural children; thirty-four whose fathers and +mothers are re-married; fifty-one whose parents are in prison; 124 whose +parents have not been pursued by justice, but are in the utmost distress. +These figures are eloquent, and full of instruction. They allow us to go +from effects to causes, and give us the hope of arresting the progress of an +evil whose origin is thus arrived at. The number of parents who are criminals +enable us to appreciate the education which the children have received +under the tutelage of such instructors. Taught evil by their fathers, the +sons have become wicked by their orders, and have believed they were acting +properly in following their example. Arrested by the hand of the law, they +resign themselves to share the destiny of their family in prison, to which +they only bring the emulation of vice; and it is absolutely necessary that a +ray of divine light should still exist within these rude and coarse natures, in +order that all the germs of honesty should not be utterly destroyed."</p></div> +</div> + +<p>"That's a pity!"</p> + +<p>"And as you may be spoiled amongst us, why, to-morrow +you shall leave this place, and never return to it."</p> + +<p>Martial looked at his mother with surprise, then, after +a moment's silence, said, "Was it for this that you tried +to get up a quarrel with me at supper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to show you what you might expect if you +would stay here in spite of us,—a hell upon earth,—I +tell you, a hell! Every day a quarrel and blows—struggles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +And we shall not be alone as we were this, +evening; we shall have friends who will help us. And +you will not hold out for a week."</p> + +<p>"Do you think to frighten me?"</p> + +<p>"I only tell you what will happen."</p> + +<p>"I don't heed it. I shall stay!"</p> + +<p>"You will stay?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"In spite of us?"</p> + +<p>"In spite of you, of Calabash, of Nicholas, and all +blackguards like him."</p> + +<p>"Really, you make me laugh."</p> + +<p>From the lips of this woman, with her repulsive and +ferocious look, these words were horrible.</p> + +<p>"I tell you I will remain here until I find the means +of gaining my livelihood elsewhere with the children. +Alone, I should not long be unemployed, for I could +return to the woods; but, on their account, I may be +some time in finding what I am seeking for. In the +meanwhile, here I remain."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you remain until the moment when you can +take away the children?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly as you say."</p> + +<p>"Take away the children?"</p> + +<p>"When I say to them 'Come!' they will come; and +quickly too, I promise you."</p> + +<p>The widow shrugged her shoulders, and replied:</p> + +<p>"Listen! I told you a short time since that, even if +you were to live for a hundred years, you should recollect +this night. I will explain those words. But, before +I do so, have you quite made up your mind?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand times over, yes!"</p> + +<p>"In a little while, however, you will say 'No! No! +No! A thousand times, no!' Listen to me attentively! +Do you know the trade your brother follows?"</p> + +<p>"I have my suspicions; but I do not wish to know."</p> + +<p>"You shall know. He steals!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So much the worse for him!"</p> + +<p>"And for you!"</p> + +<p>"For me?"</p> + +<p>"He commits robberies at night, with forcible entry,—burglary; +a case of the galleys. We receive what +he plunders. If we are discovered, we shall be sentenced +to the same punishment as he is, as receivers, +and you too. They will sweep away the whole family, +and the children will be turned out into the streets, +where they will learn the trade of their father and +grandfather as well as here."</p> + +<p>"I apprehended as a receiver,—as your accomplice? +Where's the proofs?"</p> + +<p>"No one knows how you live. You are vagabondising +on the water; you have the reputation of a bad +fellow; you dwell with us, and who will believe that +you are ignorant of our thefts and receivings?"</p> + +<p>"I will prove the contrary."</p> + +<p>"We will accuse you as our accomplice."</p> + +<p>"Accuse me! And why?"</p> + +<p>"To pay you off for staying amongst us against our +will."</p> + +<p>"Just now you tried to make me frightened in one +way, now you are trying another tack. But it won't +do. I will prove that I never robbed. I remain."</p> + +<p>"Ah! You remain? Listen then, again! Do you +remember last year a person who passed the Christmas +night here?"</p> + +<p>"Christmas night?" said Martial, trying to recall his +memory.</p> + +<p>"Try and remember,—try!"</p> + +<p>"I do not recollect."</p> + +<p>"Don't you recollect that Bras Rouge brought here +in the evening a well-dressed man, who was desirous of +concealing himself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, now I remember. I went up to bed and left +him taking his supper with you. He passed the night<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +here, and, before daybreak, Nicholas took him to St. +Ouen."</p> + +<p>"You are sure Nicholas took him to St. Ouen?"</p> + +<p>"You told me so next morning."</p> + +<p>"On Christmas night you were here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and what of that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that night this man, who had a good deal of +money about him, was murdered in this house."</p> + +<p>"Mur—! He! Here?"</p> + +<p>"And robbed and buried by the little wood-pile."</p> + +<p>"It is not true!" cried Martial, becoming pale with +horror, and unable to believe in this fresh crime of his +family. "You mean to frighten me. Once more, it is +not true?"</p> + +<p>"Ask François what he saw this morning in the +wood-pile."</p> + +<p>"François! And what did he see?"</p> + +<p>"A man's foot sticking out of the ground. Take a +lantern; go and convince your eyes!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Martial, wiping his brow, which had burst +forth in a cold sweat. "No, I do not believe you. You +say it to—"</p> + +<p>"To prove to you that, if you remain here in spite +of us, you risk every moment being apprehended as an +accomplice in robbery and murder. You were here on +Christmas night, and we shall declare that you helped us +to do this job. How will you prove the contrary?"</p> + +<p>"Merciless wretch!" said Martial, hiding his face in +his hands.</p> + +<p>"Now will you go?" said the widow, with a devilish +smile.</p> + +<p>Martial was overwhelmed. He, unfortunately, could +not doubt what his mother had said to him. The wandering +life he led, his dwelling with so criminal a +family, must induce the most horrible suspicions of +him, and these suspicions would be converted into certainty +in the eyes of justice, if his mother, brother, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +sister declared him to be their accomplice. The widow +was rejoiced at the depression of her son:</p> + +<p>"You have one means of getting out of the difficulty: +denounce us!"</p> + +<p>"I ought, but I will not; and you know that right +well."</p> + +<p>"That is why I have told you all this. Now, will +you go?"</p> + +<p>Martial, wishing to soften this hag, said to her, in a +subdued voice:</p> + +<p>"Mother, I do not believe you are capable of this +murder!"</p> + +<p>"As you please; but go!"</p> + +<p>"I will go on one condition."</p> + +<p>"No condition at all!"</p> + +<p>"You shall put the children apprentices somewhere in +the country."</p> + +<p>"They shall remain here!"</p> + +<p>"But, mother, when you have made them like Nicholas, +Calabash, Ambroise, my father,—what good will +that be to you?"</p> + +<p>"To make good 'jobs' by their assistance. We are +not too many now. Calabash will remain here with me +to keep the cabaret. Nicholas is alone. Once properly +instructed, François and Amandine will help him. They +have already been pelted with stones,—young as they +are,—and they must revenge themselves!"</p> + +<p>"Mother, you love Calabash and Nicholas, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if I do, what then?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose the children imitate them, and their crimes +are detected?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what then?"</p> + +<p>"They will come to the scaffold, like my father."</p> + +<p>"What then? What then?"</p> + +<p>"And does not their probable fate make you tremble?"</p> + +<p>"That fate will be mine, neither better nor worse. +I rob, they rob; I kill, they kill. Whoever takes the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +mother will take the young ones; we will not leave each +other. If our heads fall, theirs will fall in the same +basket, and we shall all take leave at once! We will +not retreat! You are the only coward in the family, +and we drive you from us!"</p> + +<p>"But the children,—the children!"</p> + +<p>"The children will grow up, and, but for you, they +would have been quite formed already. François is +almost ready, and, when you are gone, Amandine will +make up for lost time."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I entreat of you, consent to having the +children sent away from here, and put in apprenticeship +at a distance."</p> + +<p>"I tell you that they are in apprenticeship here!"</p> + +<p>The felon's widow uttered these last words so immovably +that Martial lost all hope of mollifying this soul of +bronze.</p> + +<p>"Since it is so," he replied, "hear me in my turn, +mother,—I remain!"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>"Not in this house. I shall be assassinated by Nicholas, +or poisoned by Calabash. But, as I have no means +of lodging elsewhere, I and the children will occupy the +hovel at the end of the island; the door of that is +strong, and I will make it still more secure. Once +there, I will barricade myself, and, with my gun, my +stick, and my dog, I am afraid of no one. To-morrow +morning I will take the children with me. During the +day they will be with me, either in my boat or elsewhere; +and, at night, they shall sleep near me in the +hovel. We can live on the fish I catch until I find some +means of placing them, and find it I will."</p> + +<p>"Oh! That's it, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Neither you, nor my brother, nor Calabash can prevent +this, can you? If your robberies and murders are +discovered during my abode on the island, so much the +worse; but I'll chance it. I will declare that I came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +back and remained here in consequence of the children, +to prevent them from becoming infamous. They will +decide. The children shall not remain another day in +this abode; and I defy you and your gang to drive me +from this island!"</p> + +<p>The widow knew Martial's resolution, and the children, +who loved their eldest brother as much as they +feared her, would certainly follow him unhesitatingly +whenever and wherever he called them. As to himself, +well armed and most determined, always on his guard, +in his boat during the day, and secure and barricaded in +the hovel on the island at night, he had nothing to fear +from the malevolence of his family.</p> + +<p>Martial's project, then, might be realised in every +particular; but the widow had many reasons for preventing +its execution. In the first place, as honest +work-people sometimes consider the number of their +children as wealth, in consequence of the services +which they derive from them, the widow relied on +Amandine and François to assist her in her atrocities. +Then, what she had said of her desire to avenge her +husband and son was true. Certain beings, nurtured, +matured, hardened in crime, enter into open revolt, into +war of extermination, against society, and believe that, +lay fresh crimes, they shall avenge themselves for the +just penalties which have been exacted from them +and those belonging to them. Then, too, the sinister +designs of Nicholas against Fleur-de-Marie, and afterwards +against the jewel-matcher, might be thwarted by +Martial's presence.</p> + +<p>The widow had hoped to effect an immediate separation +between herself and Martial, either by keeping up +and aiding Nicholas's quarrel, or by disclosing to him +that, if he obstinately persisted in remaining in the +island, he ran the risk of being suspected as an accomplice +in many crimes.</p> + +<p>As cunning as she was penetrating, the widow, perceiving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +that she had failed, saw that she must have +recourse to treachery to entrap her son in her bloody +snare, and she therefore replied, after a lengthened +pause, with assumed bitterness:</p> + +<p>"I see your plan. You will not inform against us +yourself, but you will contrive that the children shall +do so."</p> + +<p>"I?"</p> + +<p>"They know now that there is a man buried here; +they know that Nicholas has robbed. Once apprenticed +they would talk, we should be apprehended, and we +should all suffer,—you with us. That is what would +happen if I listened to you, and allowed you to place +the children elsewhere. Yet you say you do not wish +us any harm? I do not ask you to love me; but do not +hasten the hour of our apprehension!"</p> + +<p>The milder tone of the widow made Martial believe +that his threats had produced a salutary effect on her, +and he fell into the fearful snare.</p> + +<p>"I know the children," he replied; "and I am sure +that, in desiring them to say nothing, not a word will +they say. Besides, in one way or another, I shall be +always with them, and I will answer for their silence."</p> + +<p>"Can we answer for the chatter of children, especially +in Paris, where people are so curious and so gossiping? +It is as much that they should not betray us, as that +they should assist us in our plans, that I desire to keep +them here."</p> + +<p>"Don't they go sometimes to the villages, and even to +Paris? Who could prevent them from talking if they +were inclined to talk? If they were a long way off, +why, so much the better; for what they would then say +would do us no harm."</p> + +<p>"A long way off,—and where?" inquired the widow, +looking steadfastly at her son.</p> + +<p>"Let me take them away,—where is no consequence +to you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How will you and they live?"</p> + +<p>"My old master, the locksmith, is a worthy man, and +I will tell him as much as he need know, and, perhaps, +he will lend me something for the sake of the children; +with that I will go and apprentice them a long way off. +We will leave in two days, and you will hear no more +of us."</p> + +<p>"No, no! I prefer their remaining with me. I shall +then be perfectly sure of them."</p> + +<p>"Then I will take up my quarters in the hovel on the +island until something turns up. I have a way and a +will of my own, and you know it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it. Oh, how I wish you were a thousand +miles away! Why didn't you remain in your +woods?"</p> + +<p>"I offer to rid you of myself and the children."</p> + +<p>"What! Would you leave La Louve here, whom you +love so much?" asked the widow, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"That's my affair. I know what I shall do. I have +my plans."</p> + +<p>"If I let you take away Amandine and François, will +you never again set foot in Paris?"</p> + +<p>"Before three days have passed, we shall have departed, +and be as dead to you."</p> + +<p>"I prefer that to having you here, and always distrusting +you and them. So, since I must give way, take +them, and be off as quickly as possible, and never let me +see you more!"</p> + +<p>"Agreed!"</p> + +<p>"Agreed! Give me the key of the cellar, that I may +let Nicholas out!"</p> + +<p>"No; let him sleep his liquor off, and I'll give you +the key to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"And Calabash?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's another affair! Let her out when I have +gone. I can't bear the sight of her."</p> + +<p>"Go, and may hell confound you!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's your farewell, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Fortunately your last!" said Martial.</p> + +<p>"My last!" responded the widow.</p> + +<p>Her son lighted a candle, then opened the kitchen +door, whistled to his dog, who ran in, quite delighted at +being admitted, and followed his master to the upper +story of the house.</p> + +<p>"Go,—your business is settled!" muttered the widow, +shaking her clenched hand at her son, as he went up the +stairs; "but it is your own act."</p> + +<p>Then, by Calabash's assistance, who brought her a +bundle of false keys, the widow unlocked the cellar +door where Nicholas was, and set him at liberty.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<h5>FRANÇOIS AND AMANDINE.</h5> + + +<p>François and Amandine slept in a room immediately +over the kitchen, and at the end of a passage which communicated +with several other apartments that were used +as "company rooms" for the guests who frequented the +cabaret. After having eaten their frugal supper, instead +of putting out their lantern, as the widow had +ordered them, the two children watched, leaving their +door ajar, for their brother Martial's passing on his way +to his own chamber.</p> + +<p>Placed on a crippled stool, the lantern shed its dull +beams through the transparent horn. Walls of plaster, +with here and there brown deal boards, a flock-bed for +François, a little old child's bed, much too short, for +Amandine, a pile of broken chairs and dismembered +benches, mementoes of the turbulent visitors to the +cabaret of the Isle du Ravageur,—such was the interior +of this dog-hole.</p> + +<p>Amandine, seated at the edge of the bed, was trying +how to dress her head <i>en marmotte</i>, with the stolen silk +handkerchief, the gift of her brother Nicholas. François +was on his knees, holding up a piece of broken glass to +his sister, who, with her head half turned, was employed +in spreading out the large rosette which she had made +in tying the two ends of the kerchief together. Wonder-struck +at this head-dress, François for an instant neglected +to present the bit of glass in such a way that her +face could be reflected in it.</p> + +<p>"Lift the looking-glass higher," said Amandine; "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +can't see myself at all now! There, that's it,—that'll +do! Hold it so a minute! Now I've done it! Well, +look! How have I done my head?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, capitally,—excellently! What a handsome +rosette! You'll make me just such a one for my +cravat, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, directly. But let me walk up and down a +little. You can go before me—backwards—holding +the glass up, just in that way. There—so! I can +then see myself as I walk."</p> + +<p>François then went through this difficult manœuvre +to the great satisfaction of Amandine, who strutted up +and down in all her pride and dignity, under the large +bow of her head attire.</p> + +<p>Very simple and unsophisticated under any other circumstances, +this coquetry became guilt when displayed +in reference to the produce of a robbery of which François +and Amandine were not ignorant. Another proof +of the frightful facility with which children, however +well disposed, become corrupted almost imperceptibly +when they are continually immersed in a criminal +atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Then, the sole mentor of these unfortunate children, +their brother Martial, was by no means irreproachable +himself, as we have already said. Incapable, it is true, +of a theft or a murder, still he led a vagabond and ill-regulated +life. Undoubtedly his mind revolted at the +crimes of his family. He loved these two children very +fondly, and protected them from ill-treatment, endeavouring +to withdraw them from the pernicious influences +of the family; but not taking his stand on the foundations +of rigorous and sound morality, his advice was but +an ineffective safeguard to these children. They refused +to commit certain bad actions, not from honest sentiments, +but in order to obey Martial, whom they loved, +and to disobey their mother, whom they dreaded and +hated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>As to ideas of right and wrong, they had none, familiarised +as they were with the infamous examples which +they had every day under their eyes; for, as we have +said, this country cabaret, haunted by the refuse of the +lowest order, was the theatre of most disgraceful orgies +and most disgusting debaucheries; and Martial, opposed +as he was to thefts and murders, appeared perfectly indifferent +to these infamous saturnalia.</p> + +<p>It may be supposed, therefore, that the instincts of +morality in these children were doubtful and precarious, +especially those of François, who had reached that dangerous +time of life when the mind pauses, and, oscillating +between good and evil, might be in a moment lost or +saved.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>"How well you look in that handkerchief, sister!" +said François; "it is very pretty. When we go to play +on the shore by the chalk-burner's lime-kiln you must +dress yourself in this manner, to make the children jealous +who pelt us with stones and call us little guillotines. +And I shall put on my nice red cravat, and we +will say to them, 'Never mind, you haven't such pretty +silk handkerchiefs as we have!'"</p> + +<p>"But, I say, François," said Amandine, after a +moment's reflection, "if they knew that the handkerchiefs +we wear were stolen, they would call us little +thieves."</p> + +<p>"Well, and what should we care if they did call us +little thieves?"</p> + +<p>"Why, not at all, if it were not true. But now—"</p> + +<p>"Since Nicholas gave us these handkerchiefs, we +didn't steal them!"</p> + +<p>"No; but he took them out of a barge; and Brother +Martial says no one ought to steal."</p> + +<p>"But, as Nicholas states, that is no affair of ours."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so, François?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Still, it seems to me that I would rather the person +who really owns them had given them to us. What do +you say, François?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all one to me! They were given to us, and +so they're ours."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes—yes; make yourself easy about that."</p> + +<p>"So much the better, then, for we are not doing what +Brother Martial forbids, and we have such nice handkerchiefs!"</p> + +<p>"But, Amandine, if he had known the other day that +Calabash had made you take the plaid handkerchief +from the peddler's pack whilst his back was turned?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, François, don't talk about it; I have been so +very sorry. But I was really forced to do it, for my +sister pinched me until the blood came, and looked at +me so—oh, in such a way! And yet my heart failed +me twice, and I thought I never could do it. The peddler +didn't find it out; yet, if they had caught me, François, +I should have been sent to prison."</p> + +<p>"But you weren't caught; so it's just the same as if +you had not stolen."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And in prison how unhappy we must be."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary—"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean on the contrary?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you know the fat cripple who lodges at Father +Micou's, the man who buys all Nicholas's things, and +keeps a lodging-house in the Passage de la Brasserie?"</p> + +<p>"A fat cripple?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, who came here the end of last autumn +from Father Micou, with a man who had monkeys and +two women."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, a stout, lame man, who spent such a deal +of money."</p> + +<p>"I believe you; he paid for everybody. Don't you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +recollect the rows on the water when I pulled them, and +the man with the monkeys brought his organ, that they +might have music in the boat?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and in the evening the beautiful fireworks +they let off, François?"</p> + +<p>"And the fat cripple was not stingy, either. He +gave me ten sous for myself. He drank nothing but +our best wine, and they had chickens at every meal. +He spent full eighty francs."</p> + +<p>"So much as that, François?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!"</p> + +<p>"How rich he must be!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. What he spent was money he had +gained in prison, from which he had just come."</p> + +<p>"Gained all that money in prison?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he said he had seven hundred francs beside, +and that, when that was all gone, he should try another +good 'job;' and if he were taken, he didn't care, +because he should go back to his jolly 'pals in the +Stone Jug,' as he said."</p> + +<p>"Then he wasn't afraid of prison, François?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary; he told Calabash that they were +a party of friends and merrymakers all together; and +that he had never had a better bed and better food than +when he was in prison. Good meat four times a week, +fire all the winter, and a lump of money when he left +it; whilst there are fools of honest workmen who are +starving with cold and hunger, for want of work."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure he said that, François,—the stout +lame man?"</p> + +<p>"I heard him, for I was rowing him in the punt +whilst he told his story to Calabash and the two women, +who said that it was the same thing in the female +prisons they had just left."</p> + +<p>"But then, François, it can't be so bad to steal, if +people are so well off in prison."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the deuce! I don't know. Here it is only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +Brother Martial who says it is wrong to steal; perhaps +he is wrong."</p> + +<p>"Never mind if he is, François. We ought to believe +him, for he loves us so much!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he loves us; and, when he is by, there is no +fear of our being beaten. If he had been here this +evening, our mother would not have thrashed me so. +An old beast! How savage she is! Oh, how I hate +her—hate her! And how I wish I was grown up, that +I might pay her back the thumps she gives us, especially +to you, who can't bear them as well as I can."</p> + +<p>"Oh, François, hold your tongue; it quite frightens +me to hear you say that you would beat mother!" +cried the poor little child, weeping, and throwing +her arms around her brother's neck, and kissing him +affectionately.</p> + +<p>"It's quite true, though," answered François, extricating +himself gently from Amandine. "Why are my +mother and Calabash always so savage to us?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," replied Amandine, wiping her eyes +with the back of her hand. "It is, perhaps, because +they sent Brother Ambroise to the galleys, and guillotined +our father, that they are unjust towards us."</p> + +<p>"Is that our fault?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! But what would you have?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi!</i> If I am always to have beatings,—always, +always, at last I should rather steal, as they do, I should. +What do I gain by not being a thief?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, what would Martial say to that?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but for him, I should have said yes a long time +ago, for I am tired of being thumped for ever; why, this +evening, my mother was more savage than ever; she +was like a fury! It was pitch dark. She didn't say +a word; and I felt nothing but her clammy hand holding +me by the scruff of my neck, whilst with the other +she beat me; and whilst she did so, her eyes seemed to +glare in the dark."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor François! for only having said you saw a dead +man's bone by the wood-pile."</p> + +<p>"Yes, a foot that was sticking out of the ground," +said François, shuddering with fright; "I am quite +sure of it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps there was a burying-ground there once."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps; but then, why did mother say she'd be +the death of me, if I said a word about the bone to our +Brother Martial? I rather think it is some one who +has been killed in a quarrel, and that they have buried +him there, that no one might know anything about it."</p> + +<p>"You are right; for don't you remember that such a +thing did nearly happen once?"</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember once when M. Barbillon +wounded with a knife that tall man, who is so very +thin, that he showed himself for money?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the walking skeleton, as they call him? Yes; +and mother came and separated them; if she hadn't, I +think Barbillon would have killed the tall, thin man. +Did you see how Barbillon foamed at the mouth? and +his eyes seemed ready to start from his head. Oh, he +does not mind who he cuts and slashes with his knife,—he's +such a headstrong, passionate fellow!"</p> + +<p>"So young and so wicked, François?"</p> + +<p>"Tortillard is much younger, and he would be quite +as wicked as he, if he were strong enough."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he's very, very wicked! The other day he +beat me, because I would not play with him."</p> + +<p>"He beat you, did he? Then, the first time he +comes—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, François; it was only in jest."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite sure."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, for, if not—But I don't know +how he manages, the scamp! But he always has so +much money. He's so lucky! When he came here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +with the Chouette, he showed us pieces of gold of +twenty francs; and didn't he look knowing as he said, +'Oh, you might have the same, if you were not such +little muffs!'"</p> + +<p>"Muffs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; in slang that means fools, simpletons."</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"Forty francs in gold! What a many fine things I +could buy with that! Couldn't you, Amandine?"</p> + +<p>"That I could."</p> + +<p>"What should you buy?"</p> + +<p>"Let's see," said the little girl, bending her head, and +meditating. "I should first buy Brother Martial a good +thick outside coat, that would keep him warm in his +boat."</p> + +<p>"But for yourself,—for yourself."</p> + +<p>"I should like a crucifixion, like those image-sellers +had on Sunday, you know, under the church porch at +Asnières."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and, now I think of it, we must not tell +mother or Calabash that we went into a church."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, for she has always forbidden us to go +into a church. What a pity! For church is such +a nice place inside, isn't it, François?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and what beautiful silver candlesticks!"</p> + +<p>"And the picture of the holy Virgin, how kind she +looks!"</p> + +<p>"And did you look at the fine lamps, and the handsome +cloth on the large table at the bottom, when the +priest was saying mass with his two friends, dressed like +himself, and who gave him water and wine?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me, François, do you remember last year, at +the Fête-Dieu, when we saw from here the little communicants, +with their white veils, pass over the bridge?"</p> + +<p>"What nice nosegays they had!"</p> + +<p>"How they sang in a soft tone, holding the ribands +of their banners!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And how the silver lace of their banners shone in +the sunshine! What a deal of money it must have +cost!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, how beautiful it was! Wasn't it, François?"</p> + +<p>"I believe you! And the communicants with their +bows of white satin on the arm, and their wax candles, +with red velvet and gold on the part by which they hold +them."</p> + +<p>"And the little boys had their banners, too, hadn't +they, François? Ah, François, how I was thumped +that day for asking our mother why we did not go in +the procession, like the other children!"</p> + +<p>"And it was then she forbade us from ever going into +a church when we should go into the town, or to Paris; +'Unless it was to rob the poor-box, or the pockets of +the people who were hearing mass,' Calabash said, grinning, +and showing her nasty yellow teeth. Oh, what a +bad thing she is!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, and as for that, they should kill me before +I would rob in a church; and you, too, François?"</p> + +<p>"There, or anywhere; what difference does it make, +when once one has made up one's mind?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I don't know; but I should be so frightened, +I could never do it."</p> + +<p>"Because of the priests?"</p> + +<p>"No; but because of the portrait of the holy Virgin, +who seems so kind and good."</p> + +<p>"What consequence is a portrait? It won't eat or +drink, you silly child!"</p> + +<p>"That's very true; but then I really couldn't. It is +not my fault."</p> + +<p>"Talking of priests, Amandine, do you remember +that day when Nicholas gave me two such hard boxes +on the ear, because he saw me make a bow to the +curate, who passed on the bank? I had seen everybody +salute him, and so I saluted him; I didn't think +I was doing any wrong."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; but then, you know, Brother Martial said, as +Nicholas did, that there was no occasion to salute the +priests."</p> + +<p>At this moment François and Amandine heard footsteps +in the passage. Martial was going to his chamber, +without any mistrust, after his conversation with his +mother, believing that Nicholas was safely locked up +until the next morning. Seeing a ray of light coming +from out the closet in which the children slept, Martial +came into the room. They both ran to him, and +he embraced them affectionately.</p> + +<p>"What! Not in bed yet, little gossips?"</p> + +<p>"No, brother, we waited until you came, that we +might see you, and wish you good night," said Amandine.</p> + +<p>"And then we heard you speaking very loud below, +as if there were a quarrel," added François.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Martial, "I had some dispute with Nicholas, +but it was nothing. Besides, I am glad to see you +awake, as I have some good news for you."</p> + +<p>"For us, brother?"</p> + +<p>"Should you like to go away from here, and come +with me a long way off?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, brother!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, brother!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, in two or three days we shall all three +leave the island."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how delightful!" exclaimed Amandine, clapping +her hands with joy.</p> + +<p>"And where shall we go to?" inquired François.</p> + +<p>"You will see, Mr. Inquisitive; no matter; but where +you will learn a good trade, which will enable you to +earn your living, be sure of that."</p> + +<p>"Then I sha'n't go fishing with you any more, +brother?"</p> + +<p>"No, my boy, you will be put apprentice to a carpenter +or locksmith. You are strong and handy, and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +a good heart; and working hard, at the end of a year +you may already have earned something. But you don't +seem to like it: why, what ails you now?"</p> + +<p>"Why, brother,—I—"</p> + +<p>"Come, come! Speak out."</p> + +<p>"Why, I'd rather not leave you, but stay with you, +and fish, and mend your nets, than go and learn a +trade."</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to be shut up in a workshop all day is so +very dull; and then it must be so tiresome to be an +apprentice."</p> + +<p>Martial shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"So, then, you would rather be an idler, a scamp, a +vagabond,—eh?" said he, in a stern voice; "and then, +perhaps, a thief?"</p> + +<p>"No, brother; but I should like to live with you +elsewhere, as we live here, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it; eat, drink, sleep, and amuse yourself +with fishing, like an independent gentleman,—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should like it."</p> + +<p>"Very likely; but you must prefer something else. +You see, my poor dear lad, that it is quite time I took +you away from here; for, without perceiving it, you +have become as idle as the rest. My mother was right,—I +fear you have vice in you. And you, Amandine, +shouldn't you like to learn some business?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, brother; I should like very much to learn +anything rather than stay here. I should dearly like to +go with you and François."</p> + +<p>"But what have you got on your head, my child?" +inquired Martial, observing Amandine's very fine head-dress.</p> + +<p>"A handkerchief that Nicholas gave me."</p> + +<p>"And he gave me one, too," said François, with an +air of pride.</p> + +<p>"And where did these handkerchiefs come from? I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +should be very much surprised to learn that Nicholas +bought them to make you a present of."</p> + +<p>The two children lowered their eyes, and made no +reply. After a second, François said, with a resolute +air, "Nicholas gave them to us. We do not know where +they came from, do we, Amandine?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, brother," replied Amandine, stammering, +and turning very red, not daring to look Martial in the +face.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell lies," said Martial, harshly.</p> + +<p>"We don't tell lies," replied François, doggedly.</p> + +<p>"Amandine, my child, tell the truth," said Martial, +mildly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, to tell the whole truth," replied Amandine, +timidly, "these fine handkerchiefs came out of a +box of things that Nicholas brought in this evening in +his boat."</p> + +<p>"And which he had stolen?"</p> + +<p>"I think so, brother,—out of a barge."</p> + +<p>"So then, François, you lie?" said Martial.</p> + +<p>The boy bent down his head, but made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Give me this handkerchief, Amandine; and yours, +too, François."</p> + +<p>The little girl took off her head-dress, gave a last look +at the large bow, which was not untied, and gave the +handkerchief to Martial, repressing a sigh of regret. +François drew his slowly out of his pocket, and then +gave it to his brother, as his sister had done.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning," he said, "I will return these +handkerchiefs to Nicholas. You ought not to have taken +them, children. To profit by a robbery is as if one robbed +oneself."</p> + +<p>"It is a pity those handkerchiefs were so pretty!" +said François.</p> + +<p>"When you have learned a trade, and earn money by +your work, you will buy some as good. Go to bed, my +dears,—it is very late."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are not angry, brother?" said Amandine, +timidly.</p> + +<p>"No, no, my love, it is not your fault. You live with +ill-disposed persons, and you do as they do unconsciously. +When you are with honest persons, you will do as they +do; and you'll soon be with such, or the devil's in it. +So now, good night!"</p> + +<p>"Good night, brother!"</p> + +<p>Martial kissed the children. They were now alone.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you, François,—you seem +very sorrowful!" said Amandine.</p> + +<p>"Why, brother has taken my nice handkerchief; and +besides, didn't you hear what he said?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"He means to take us with him, and put us +apprentice."</p> + +<p>"And ain't you glad?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, no!"</p> + +<p>"Would you rather stay here and be beaten every +day?"</p> + +<p>"Why, if I am beaten I am not made to work. I am +all day in the boat, fishing, or playing, or waiting on the +customers, who sometimes give me something, as the stout +lame man did. It is much more amusing than to be +from morning till night shut up in a workshop working +like a dog."</p> + +<p>"But didn't you understand? Why, brother said that +if we remained here longer we should become evil-disposed."</p> + +<p>"Ah! bah! That's all one to me, since the other +children call us already little thieves,—little guillotines! +And then to work is too tiresome!"</p> + +<p>"But here they are always beating us, brother!"</p> + +<p>"They beat us because we listen to Martial more than +to any one else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is so kind to us!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is kind,—very kind,—I don't say he ain't;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +and I am very fond of him. No one dares to be unkind +to us when he is by. He takes us out with him,—that's +true; but that's all; he never gives us anything."</p> + +<p>"Why, he has nothing. What he gains he gives our +mother to pay for his eating, drinking, and lodging."</p> + +<p>"Nicholas has something. You may be sure if we +attend to what he and mother say, they would not make +our lives so uncomfortable, but give us pretty things, as +they did to-day. They would not distrust us, and we +should have money like Tortillard."</p> + +<p>"But we must steal for that; and how that would +grieve dear, good Martial!"</p> + +<p>"Well, so much the worse!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, François! And then we should be taken up and +put into prison."</p> + +<p>"To be in a prison or shut up in a workshop all day is +the same thing. Besides, the Gros-Boiteux says they +amuse themselves very much in prison."</p> + +<p>"But how sorry Martial would be; only think of that! +And then it is on our account that he returned here, and +remains with us! For himself only he would not have +any difficulty, but could go again and be a poacher in +the woods which he is so very fond of."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if he'll take us with him into the woods," said +François, "that would be better than anything else. I +should be with him I am so fond of, and should not +work at any business that would tire me."</p> + +<p>The conversation of François and Amandine was +interrupted. Some one outside double-locked their +door.</p> + +<p>"They have fastened us in," said François.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what can it be for, brother? What are they +going to do to us?"</p> + +<p>"It is Martial, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Listen, listen,—how his dog barks!" said Amandine, +listening.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes, François added:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It sounds as if some one were knocking at his door +with a hammer. Perhaps they want to force it open!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but how the dog barks still!"</p> + +<p>"Listen, François! It is as if they were nailing +something. Oh, dear, oh, dear, how frightened I am! +What are they doing to our brother? And how the dog +howls still!"</p> + +<p>"Amandine, I hear nothing now," said François, +going towards the door.</p> + +<p>The two children held their breath, and listened +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"They are coming from my brother's room," said +François, in a low voice; "I hear them walking in the +passage."</p> + +<p>"Let us throw ourselves on our beds; mother would +kill us if she found us out of bed," said Amandine, +terrified.</p> + +<p>"No," said François, still listening; "they have just +passed by our door, and are running down the staircase."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, oh, dear, what can it be?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, now they are opening the kitchen door."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I know the sound."</p> + +<p>"Martial's dog is still howling," said Amandine, +listening. Suddenly she exclaimed, "François, our +brother calls us."</p> + +<p>"Martial?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; don't you hear him? Don't you hear him +now?"</p> + +<p>And at this moment, in spite of the thickness of the +two closed doors, the powerful voice of Martial, who +called to the children from his room, reached them.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, we can't go to him; we are locked in," said +Amandine. "They must be doing something wrong to +him, as he calls us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that, if I could hinder them," exclaimed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +François, resolutely, "I would, even if they were to cut +me to pieces!"</p> + +<p>"But our brother does not know that they have +double-locked our door, and he will believe that we +would not go to his help. Call out to him that we are +locked in, François."</p> + +<p>The lad was just going to do as his sister bade him, +when a violent blow was struck outside the shutter of +the window of the room in which the two children were.</p> + +<p>"They are coming in by the window to kill us!" +cried Amandine, and, in her fright, she threw herself +on her bed and hid her head between her hands.</p> + +<p>François remained motionless, although he shared his +sister's terror. However, after the violent blow we have +mentioned, the shutter was not opened, and the most +profound silence reigned throughout the house. Martial +had ceased calling to the children.</p> + +<p>A little assured, and excited by intense curiosity, +François ventured to open the window a little way, and +tried to look out through the leaves of the blind.</p> + +<p>"Mind, brother!" said Amandine, in a low voice, +and sitting up when she heard François open the +shutter.</p> + +<p>"Can you see anything?" she added.</p> + +<p>"No, the night is too dark."</p> + +<p>"Don't you hear anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, the wind is too high."</p> + +<p>"Come in, then; come in."</p> + +<p>"Oh, now I see something!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"The light of a lantern, which moves backwards and +forwards."</p> + +<p>"Who's carrying it?"</p> + +<p>"I can only see the light. Ah, she comes nearer,—she +is speaking!"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Listen,—listen! It is Calabash."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What does she say?"</p> + +<p>"She says the ladder must be fixed securely."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was then in taking away the high ladder that +was placed against our shutter that they made that noise +just now."</p> + +<p>"I don't hear anything now."</p> + +<p>"What have they done with the ladder?"</p> + +<p>"I can't see it now."</p> + +<p>"Can you hear anything?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"François, perhaps they are going to use it to enter +our Brother Martial's room by the window!"</p> + +<p>"Very likely."</p> + +<p>"If you could open our window a little more you +might see."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid."</p> + +<p>"Only a little bit."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no! If mother saw us!"</p> + +<p>"It is so dark, there is no danger."</p> + +<p>François, much against his will, did as his sister +requested, and pushing the shutter back, looked +out.</p> + +<p>"Well, brother?" said Amandine, surmounting her +fears, and approaching François on tiptoe.</p> + +<p>"By the gleam of the lantern," said he, "I see +Calabash, who is holding the foot of the ladder, which +is resting against Martial's window."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Nicholas is going up the ladder with his axe in his +hand. I see it glitter."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are not in bed, then, but watching us!" +exclaimed the widow, addressing François and his +sister from outside. As she was returning to the +kitchen she saw the light, which escaped through the +open window.</p> + +<p>The unfortunate children had neglected putting out +the lantern.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am coming," added the widow, in a terrible voice; +"I am coming to you, you little spies!"</p> + +<p>Such were the events which passed in the Isle du +Ravageur on the evening of the day before that on +which Madame Séraphin was to take Fleur-de-Marie +thither.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<h5>A LODGING-HOUSE.</h5> + + +<p>The Passage de la Brasserie, a dark street, narrow, +and but little known, although situated in the centre of +Paris, runs at one end into the Rue Traversière St. +Honoré, and at the other into the Cour St. Guillaume.</p> + +<p>Towards the middle of this damp thoroughfare, muddy, +dark, and unwholesome, and where the sun but rarely +penetrates, there was a furnished house (commonly +called a <i>garni</i>, lodging-house, in consequence of the low +price of the apartments). On a miserable piece of paper +might be read, "Chambers and small rooms furnished." +To the right hand, in a dark alley, was the door of a +store, not less obscure, in which constantly resided the +principal tenant of this <i>garni</i>.</p> + +<p>Father Micou was ostensibly a dealer in old metal +("marine stores"), but secretly purchased and received +stolen metal, iron, lead, brass, and tin. When we mention +that Father Micou was connected in business and +friendship with the Martial family, we give a tolerable +idea of his morality. The tie that binds—the sort of +affiliation, the mysterious communion, which connects—the +malefactors of Paris, is at once curious and +fearful. The common prisons are the great centres +whence flow, and to which reflow, incessantly those +waves of corruption which gradually gain on the capital, +and leave there such pernicious waifs and strays.</p> + +<p>Father Micou was a stout man, about fifty years of +age, with a mean and cunning countenance, a mulberry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +nose, and wine-flushed cheeks. He wore a fur cap and +an old green long-skirted coat. Over his small stove, +near which he was standing, there was a board fastened +to the wall, and bearing a row of figures, to which were +affixed the keys of the chambers of the absent lodgers. +The panes of glass in the door which opened on to the +street were so painted that from the outside no one +could see what was going on within.</p> + +<p>The whole of this extensive store was very dark. +From the damp walls there hung rusty chains of all +sizes; and the floor was strewed with iron and other +metals. Three blows struck at the door in a particular +way attracted the attention of the landlord, huckster, +receiver.</p> + +<p>"Come in!" he cried.</p> + +<p>It was Nicholas, the son of the felon's widow. He +was very pale, his features looked even more evil than +they did on the previous evening, and yet he feigned a +kind of overgaiety during the following conversation. +(This scene takes place on the day after his quarrel with. +Martial.)</p> + +<p>"Ah, is it you, my fine fellow?" said Micou, cordially.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Father Micou, I have come to see you on a +trifle of business."</p> + +<p>"Then shut the door,—shut the door."</p> + +<p>"My dog and cart are there outside with the stuff."</p> + +<p>"What do you bring me, double tripe (sheet lead)?"</p> + +<p>"No, Father Micou."</p> + +<p>"What is it, scrapings? but no, you're too downy +now, you've left off work. Perhaps it is a bit of hard +(iron)?"</p> + +<p>"No, Daddy Micou, it's some flap (sheet copper). +There must be, at least, a hundred and fifty pounds +weight, as much as my dog could stagger along with."</p> + +<p>"Go and fetch the flap, and let's weigh it."</p> + +<p>"You must lend a hand, daddy, for I've hurt my +arm."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>And, at the recollection of his contest with his brother +Martial, the ruffian's features expressed, at once, the +resentment of hatred and savage joy, as if his vengeance +were already satisfied.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with your arm, my man?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing,—only a sprain."</p> + +<p>"You must heat an iron in the fire, and plunge it red-hot +into the water, then put your arm in the water as +hot as you can bear it. It is an iron-dealer's remedy, +but none the worse for that."</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, Father Micou."</p> + +<p>"Go and fetch the flap, and I'll come and help you, +idle-bones."</p> + +<p>At twice the copper was brought out of the cart, +drawn by an enormous dog, and conveyed into the shop.</p> + +<p>"That cart of yours is a good idea," said the worthy +Micou, as he adjusted the wooden frames of an enormous +pair of scales that hung from a beam in the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"Yes; when I've anything to bring, I put my dog +and cart into the punt, and harness them as we come +along. A hackney-coach might, perhaps, tell a tale, but +my dog never chatters."</p> + +<p>"And they're all pretty well at home,—eh?" inquired +the receiver, weighing the copper; "mother and sister, +both pretty bobbish?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Father Micou."</p> + +<p>"And the little uns?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the little uns, too. And your nephew, André, +where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Don't mention him; he was out on a spree yesterday. +Barbillon and Gros-Boiteux brought him back this morning. +He is out for a walk now towards the General +Post-office in the Rue St. Jacques Rousseau. And +your brother, Martial, is he just such a rum un as ever?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi!</i> I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Don't know?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Nicholas, assuming an indifferent air;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +"we have seen nothing of him for the last two days. +Perhaps he's gone poaching in the woods again; unless +his boat, which was very, very old, has sunk in the river, +with him in it."</p> + +<p>"At which you would not be dreadfully affected, you +bad lot, for you can't bear your brother, I know."</p> + +<p>"True; we have strange likes and dislikes. How +many pounds of metal d'ye make?"</p> + +<p>"You're right to a hair, just a hundred and fifty +pounds, my lad."</p> + +<p>"And you owe me—"</p> + +<p>"Just thirty francs."</p> + +<p>"Thirty francs! when copper is twenty sous a pound? +Thirty francs!"</p> + +<p>"Say thirty-five francs, and there's an end of the +matter, or go to the devil with you! you, and your +copper, and your dog, and your cart."</p> + +<p>"But, Father Micou, you are really chiselling me down; +that's not the right thing by no means."</p> + +<p>"If you'll tell me how you came by your copper, I'll +give you fifteen sous a pound for it."</p> + +<p>"That's the old strain. You are all alike, a regular +lot of cheats. How can you bear to 'do' your friends in +this way? But that's not all; if I swap with you for +some things, you ought to give me good measure."</p> + +<p>"To a hair's turn. What do you want? Chains and +hooks for your punts?"</p> + +<p>"No, I want four or five sheets of stout iron, as if to +line shutters with."</p> + +<p>"I've just the thing, a quarter of an inch thick; a +pistol-ball wouldn't go through it."</p> + +<p>"Just what I want."</p> + +<p>"What size?"</p> + +<p>"Why, altogether about seven or eight feet square."</p> + +<p>"Good, and what else?"</p> + +<p>"Three bars of iron, from three to four feet long, and +two inches square."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have just broken up an iron wicket; nothing can +be better for you. What next?"</p> + +<p>"Two strong hinges and a latch, so that I can open +or shut an opening two feet square when I wish."</p> + +<p>"A trap, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"No, a valve."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand what you can want with a +valve."</p> + +<p>"Never you mind; I know what I want."</p> + +<p>"That's all right; you have only to choose; there's +a heap of hinges. What's the next thing?"</p> + +<p>"That's all."</p> + +<p>"And not much, either."</p> + +<p>"Get it all ready, Father Micou, and I'll take it as +I come back; for I've got some other places to call +at."</p> + +<p>"With your cart? Why, you dog, I saw a bundle +underneath. What, some little trifle you have taken +from the world's wardrobe? Ah, you sly rogue!"</p> + +<p>"Just as you say, Father Micou; but you don't +deal in such things. Don't keep me waiting for the +iron goods, for I must be back at the island before +noon."</p> + +<p>"I'll be ready. It is only eight, and, if you are not +going far, come back in an hour, and you shall find +everything prepared,—money and goods. Won't you +take a drain?"</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, I won't say no, for I think you owe it +me."</p> + +<p>Father Micou took from an old closet a bottle of +brandy, a cracked glass, and a cup without a handle, +and filled them.</p> + +<p>"Here's to you, Daddy Micou!"</p> + +<p>"And to you likewise, my boy, and the ladies at +home!"</p> + +<p>"Thank ye. And the lodging-house goes on well, +eh?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Middling,—middling. I have always some lodgers +for whom I am always fearing a visit from the commissary; +but they pay in proportion."</p> + +<p>"How d'ye mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, are you stupid? I sometimes lodge as I buy, +and don't ask them for their passport, any more than I +ask you for your bill of parcels."</p> + +<p>"Good; but to them you let as dear as you have +bought cheaply of me."</p> + +<p>"I must look out. I have a cousin who has a handsome +furnished house in the Rue St. Honoré. His +wife is a milliner in a large way, and employs, perhaps, +twenty needlewomen, either in the house, or having the +work at home."</p> + +<p>"I say, old boy, I dare say there's some pretty uns +among 'em?"</p> + +<p>"I believe you. There's two or three that I have +seen bring home work sometimes,—my eyes, ain't they +pretty, though? One little one in particular, who works +at home, and is always a-laughing, and they calls her +Rigolette, oh, my pippin, what a pity one ain't twenty +years old all over again!"</p> + +<p>"Halloa, daddy, how you are going it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right, my boy,—all right!"</p> + +<p>"'Walker!' old boy. And you say your cousin—"</p> + +<p>"Does uncommon well with his house, and, as it is +the same number as that of the little Rigolette—"</p> + +<p>"What, again?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right and proper."</p> + +<p>"'Walker!'"</p> + +<p>"He won't have any lodgers but those who have passports +and papers; but if any come who haven't got 'em, +he sends me those customers."</p> + +<p>"And they pays accordingly?"</p> + +<p>"In course."</p> + +<p>"But they are all in our line who haven't got their +riglar papers?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By no manner of means! Why, very lately, my +cousin sent me a customer,—devil burn me if I can +make him out! Another drain?"</p> + +<p>"Just one; the liquor's good. Here's t'ye again, +Daddy Micou!"</p> + +<p>"Here's to you again, my covey! I was saying that +the other day my cousin sent me a customer whom I +can't make out. Imagine a mother and daughter, who +looked very queer and uncommon seedy; they had their +whole kit in a pocket-handkerchief. Well, there warn't +much to be expected out of this, for they had no papers, +and they lodge by the fortnight; yet, since they've been +here, they haven't moved any more than a dormouse. +No men come to see them; and yet they're not bad-looking, +if they weren't so thin and pale, particularly +the daughter, about sixteen,—with such a pair of black +eyes,—oh, such eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Halloa, dad! You're off again. What do these +women do?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you I don't know; they must be respectable, +and yet, as they receive letters without any address, it +looks queer."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"They sent, this morning, my nephew André to the +<i>Poste-Restante</i> to inquire for a letter addressed to 'Madame +X. Z.' The letter was expected from Normandy, +from a town called Aubiers. They wrote that down on +paper, so that André might get the letter by giving these +particulars. You see, it does not look quite the thing +for women to take the name of 'X.' and 'Z.' And yet +they never have any male visitors."</p> + +<p>"They won't pay you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my fine fellow, they don't catch an old bird like +me with chaff. They took a room without a fireplace, +and I made them pay the twenty francs down for the +fortnight. They are, perhaps, ill, for they have not +been down for the last two days. It is not indigestion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +that ails them, for I don't think they have cooked +anything since they came here."</p> + +<p>"If you had all such customers, Father Micou—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they go and come. If I lodge people without +passports, why, I also have different people. I have +now two travelling gents, a postman, the leader of the +band at the Café des Aveugles, and a lady of fortune,—all +most respectable persons, such as save the reputation +of a house, if the commissary is inclined to look a little +too closely into things; they are not night-lodgers, but +tenants of the broad sunshine."</p> + +<p>"When it comes into your alley, Father Micou."</p> + +<p>"You're a wag. Another drain, yes, just one more."</p> + +<p>"Well, it must be my last, for then I must cut. By +the way, doesn't Robin, the Gros-Boiteux, lodge here +still?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, up-stairs, on the same landing as the mother +and daughter. He's pretty nearly run through his +money he earned in gaol."</p> + +<p>"I say, mind your eye,—he's outlawed."</p> + +<p>"I know it, but I can't get rid of him. I think he's +got something in hand, for little Tortillard came here +the other night along with Barbillon. I'm afraid he'll +do something to my lodgers, so, when his fortnight is +up, I shall bundle him, telling him his room is taken for +an ambassador, or the husband of Madame Saint-Ildefonse, +my independent lady."</p> + +<p>"An independent lady?"</p> + +<p>"I believe you! Three rooms and a cabinet in the +front,—nothing less,—newly furnished, to say nothing +of an attic for her servant. Eighty francs a month, and +paid in advance by her uncle, to whom she gives one of +her spare rooms when he comes up from the country. +But I believe his country-house is about the Rue Vivienne, +or the Rue St. Honoré."</p> + +<p>"I twig! She's independent because the old fellow +pays."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hush! Here's her maid."</p> + +<p>A middle-aged woman, wearing a white apron of +very doubtful cleanliness, entered the dealer's warehouse.</p> + +<p>"What can I do for you, Madame Charles?"</p> + +<p>"Father Micou, is your nephew within?"</p> + +<p>"He has gone to the post-office; but I expect him in +immediately."</p> + +<p>"M. Badinot wishes him to take this letter to its +address instantly. There's no answer, but it is in great +haste."</p> + +<p>"In a quarter of an hour he will be on his way +thither, madame."</p> + +<p>"He must make great haste."</p> + +<p>"He shall, be assured."</p> + +<p>The servant went away.</p> + +<p>"Is she the maid of one of your lodgers, Father +Micou?"</p> + +<p>"She is the <i>bonne</i> of my independent lady, Madame +Saint-Ildefonse. But M. Badinot is her uncle; he came +from the country yesterday," said the respectable Micou, +who was looking at the letter, and then added, reading +the address, "Look, now, what grand acquaintances! +Why, I told you they were high folks; he writes to a +viscount."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bah!"</p> + +<p>"See here, then, 'To Monsieur the Vicomte de Saint-Remy, +Rue de Chaillot. In great haste. Private.' I +hope, when we lodge independent persons who have +uncles who write to viscounts, we may allow some few +of our other lodgers higher up in the house to be +without passports, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I believe you. Well, then, Father Micou, we shall +soon be back. I shall fasten my dog and cart to your +door, and carry what I have; so be ready with the +goods and the money, so that I may cut at once."</p> + +<p>"I'll be ready. Four good iron plates, each two feet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +square, three bars of iron two feet long, and two hinges +for your valve. This valve seems very odd to me; but +it's no affair of mine. Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and my money?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you shall have your money. But now I look at +you in the light—now I get a good view of you—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—but you seem as if something was +the matter."</p> + +<p>"I do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense! If anything ails me it is that I'm +hungry."</p> + +<p>"You're hungry? Like enough; but it rather looks +as if you wanted to appear very lively, whilst all the +while there's something that worries you; and it must +be <i>something</i>, for it ain't a trifle that puts you +out."</p> + +<p>"I tell you you're mistaken, Father Micou," said +Nicholas, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"Why, you quite tremble!"</p> + +<p>"It's my arm that pains me."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't forget my prescription, that will cure +you."</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, I'll soon be back." And the ruffian went +on his way.</p> + +<p>The receiver, after having concealed the lumps of +copper behind his counter, occupied himself in collecting +the various things which Nicholas had requested, when +another individual entered his shop. It was a man +about fifty years of age, with a keen, sagacious face, a +thick pair of gray whiskers, and gold spectacles. He +was extremely well dressed; the wide sleeves of his +brown paletot, with black velvet cuffs, showing his hands +covered with thin coloured kid gloves, and his boots +bore evidence of having been on the previous evening +highly polished.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was M. Badinot, the independent lady's uncle, that +Madame Saint-Ildefonse, whose social position formed +the pride and security of Père Micou. The reader may, +perchance, recollect that M. Badinot, the former attorney, +struck off that respectable list, then a Chevalier +d'Industrie, and agent in equivocal matters, was the spy +of Baron de Graün, and had given that diplomatist +many and very precise particulars as to many personages +connected with this tale.</p> + +<p>"Madame Charles has just given you a letter to +send?" said M. Badinot, to the dealer in <i>et ceteras</i>.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; my nephew I expect every moment, and +he shall go directly."</p> + +<p>"No, give me the letter again, I have changed my +mind. I shall go myself to the Comte de Saint-Remy," +said M. Badinot, pronouncing this aristocratic name very +emphatically, and with much importance.</p> + +<p>"Here's the letter, sir; have you any other commission?"</p> + +<p>"No, Père Micou," said M. Badinot, with a protecting +air, "but I have something to scold you about."</p> + +<p>"Me, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Very much, indeed."</p> + +<p>"About what, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Madame de Saint-Ildefonse pays very expensively +for your first floor. My niece is a lodger to whom +the greatest respect ought to be paid; she came highly +recommended to your house, and, having a great aversion +to the noise of carriages, she hoped she should be +here as if she were in the country."</p> + +<p>"So she is; it is quite like a village here. You ought +to know, sir,—you who live in the country,—this is a +real village."</p> + +<p>"A village! Very like, indeed! Why, there is always +such an infernal din in the house."</p> + +<p>"Still, it is impossible to find a quieter house. Above +the lady, there is the leader of the band at the Café des<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +Aveugles, and a gentleman traveller; over that, another +traveller; over that—"</p> + +<p>"I am not alluding to those persons; they are very +quiet, and appear very respectable. My niece has no +fault to find with them; but in the fourth, there is a +stout lame man, whom Madame de Saint-Ildefonse met +yesterday tipsy on the stairs; he was shrieking like a +savage, and she nearly had a fit, she was so much +alarmed. If you think that, with such lodgers, your +house resembles a village—"</p> + +<p>"Sir, I assure you I only wait the opportunity to turn +this stout lame man out-of-doors; he has paid his last +fortnight in advance, otherwise I should already have +turned him out."</p> + +<p>"You should not have taken in such a lodger."</p> + +<p>"But, except him, I hope madame has nothing to +complain of. There is a twopenny postman, who is the +cream of honest fellows, and overhead, beside the chamber +of the stout lame man, a lady and daughter, who do +not move any more than dormice."</p> + +<p>"I repeat, Madame de Saint-Ildefonse only complains +of this stout lame man, who is the nightmare of the +house; and I warn you that, if you keep such a fellow +in your house, you will find all your respectable lodgers +leave you."</p> + +<p>"I will send him away, you may be assured. I have +no wish to keep him."</p> + +<p>"You will only do what's right, for else your house +will be forsaken."</p> + +<p>"Which will not answer my purpose at all; so, sir, +consider the stout lame man as gone, for he has only +four more days to stay here."</p> + +<p>"Which is four days too many; but it is your +affair. At the first outbreak, my niece leaves your +house."</p> + +<p>"Be assured, sir—"</p> + +<p>"It is all for your own interest,—and look to it, for I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +am not a man of many words," said M. Badinot, with a +patronising air, and he went out.</p> + +<p>Need we say that this female and her young daughter, +who lived so lonely, were the two victims of the notary's +cupidity? We will now conduct the reader to the miserable +retreat in which they lived.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<h5>THE VICTIMS OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h5> + + +<p>Let the reader picture to himself a small chamber on +the fourth floor of the wretched house in the Passage de +la Brasserie. Scarcely could the faint glimmers of early +morn force their pale rays through the narrow casements +forming the only window to this small apartment; the +three panes of glass that apology for a window contained +were cracked and almost the colour of horn, a dingy and +torn yellow paper adhered in some places to the walls, +while from each corner of the cracked ceiling hung long +and thick cobwebs; and to complete the appearance of +wretchedness so evident in this forlorn spot, the flooring +was broken away, and, in many places, displayed the +beams which supported it, as well as the lath and plaster +forming the ceiling of the room beneath. A deal +table, a chair, an old trunk, without hinges or lock, a +truckle-bed, with a wooden headboard, covered by a thin +mattress, coarse sheets of unbleached cloth, and an old +rug,—such was the entire furniture of this wretched +chamber.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> "The average punishment awarded to such as are convicted of breach +of trust is two months' imprisonment and a fine of twenty-five francs."—<i>Art. +406 and 408 of the "Code Penal."</i></p></div> +</div> + +<p>On the chair sat the Baroness de Fermont, and in the +bed reposed her daughter, Claire de Fermont. Such were +the names of these two victims of the villainy of Jacques +Ferrand. Possessing but one bed, the mother and child +took it by turns to sleep. Too much uneasiness and too +many bitter cares prevented Madame de Fermont from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +enjoying the blessing of repose; but her daughter's +young and elastic nature easily yielded to the natural impulse +which made her willingly seek in short slumbers a +temporary respite from the misery by which she was +surrounded during her waking hours. At the present +moment she was sleeping peacefully.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be imagined more touchingly affecting +than the picture of misery imposed by the avarice of the +notary on two females hitherto accustomed to every comfort, +and surrounded in their native city by that respect +which is ever felt for honourable and honoured families.</p> + +<p>Madame de Fermont was about six and thirty years of +age, with a countenance at once expressive of gentleness +and intelligence, mingled with an indescribably noble and +majestic air. Her features, which had once boasted +extreme beauty, were now pale and careworn; her dark +hair was separated on her forehead, and formed two +thick, lustrous bandeaux, which, after shading her pallid +countenance, were twisted in with her back hair, whose +tresses the hand of sorrow had already mingled with +gray. Dressed in an old shabby black dress, patched +and pieced in various places, Madame de Fermont, her +head supported by her hand, was surveying her child +with looks of ineffable tenderness.</p> + +<p>Claire was but sixteen years of age, and her gentle and +innocent countenance, thin and sorrowful as that of her +mother, looked still more pallid as contrasted with the +coarse, unbleached linen which covered her bolster, filled +only with sawdust. The once brilliant complexion of the +poor girl had sickened beneath the privations she endured; +and, as she slept, the long, dark lashes which +fringed her large and lustrous eyes stood out almost unnaturally +upon her sunken cheek; the once fresh and +rosy lips were now dry, cracked, and colourless, yet, half +opened as they were, they displayed the faultless regularity +of her pearly teeth.</p> + +<p>The harsh contact of the rough linen which covered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +her bed had caused a temporary redness about the neck, +shoulders, and arms of the poor girl, whose fine and +delicate skin was marbled and spotted by the friction +both of the miserable sheets and rug. A sensation of +uneasiness and discomfort seemed to pervade even her +slumbers; for the clearly defined eyebrows, occasionally +contracted, as though the sleeper were under the influence +of an uneasy dream, and the pained expression +observable on the features, foretold the deadly nature of +the disease at work within.</p> + +<p>Madame de Fermont had long ceased to find relief in +tears, but, like her suffering daughter, she found that +weakness, languor, and dejection, which is ever the precursor +of severe illness, rapidly and daily increasing; +but, unwilling to alarm Claire, and wishing, if possible, +even to conceal the frightful truth from herself, the +wretched mother struggled against the first approaches +of her malady, while, from a similar feeling of devotion +and affection, Claire sought to hide from her parent the +extreme suffering she herself experienced.</p> + +<p>To attempt to describe the tortures endured by the +tender mother, as, during the greater part of the night, +she watched her slumbering child, her thoughts alternately +dwelling on the past, the present, and the future, +would be to paint the sharpest, bitterest, wildest agony +that ever crossed the brain of a loving and despairing +mother; to give alternately her reminiscences of bygone +happiness, her shuddering dread of impending evil, her +fearful anticipations, her bitter regrets, and utter despondency, +mingled with bursts of frenzied rage against the +author of all her sorrows, vain supplications, eager, earnest +prayers, ending at last fearfully and dreadfully in +openly expressed mistrust of the omnipotence and justice +of the Great Being who could thus remain insensible to +the cry which arose from a mother's breaking heart, +to that holy plea whose sound should reach the throne +of grace,—"Pity, pity, for my child!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How cold she is!" cried the poor mother, lightly +touching with her icy hand the equally chill arm of her +child; "how very, very cold! and scarcely an hour ago +just as hot! Alas, 'tis the cruel fever which has seized +upon her! Happily the dear creature is as yet unconscious +of her malady! Gracious heaven, she is becoming +cold as death itself! What shall I do to bring warmth +to her poor frame? The bed-coverings are so slight! A +good thought! I will throw my old shawl over her. +But no, no! I dare not remove it from the door over +which I have hung it, lest those men so brutally intoxicated +should endeavour, as they did yesterday, to look +into the room through the disjointed panels or openings +in the framework.</p> + +<p>"What a horrible place we have got into! Oh, if I +had but known by what description of persons it was +inhabited before I paid the fortnight in advance! Certainly, +we would not have remained here. But, alas, I +knew it not; and when we have no vouchers for our +respectability, it is so difficult to obtain furnished lodgings. +Who could ever have thought I should have been +at a loss,—I who quitted Angers in my own carriage, +deeming it unfit my daughter should travel by any +public conveyance? How could I have imagined that +I should experience any difficulty in obtaining every +requisite testimonial of my honour and honesty?"</p> + +<p>Then bursting into a fit of anger, she exclaimed, +"'Tis too, too hard, that because this unprincipled, +hard-hearted notary chooses to strip us of all our +possessions, I have no means of punishing him! Yes; +had I money I might sue him legally for his misconduct. +But would not that be to bring obloquy and +contempt on the memory of my good, my noble-minded +brother; to have it publicly proclaimed that he consummated +his ruin by taking away his own life, after +having squandered my fortune and that of my child; +to hear him accused of reducing us to want and wretchedness?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +Oh, never,—never! Still, however dear and +sacred is the memory of a brother, should not the welfare +of my child be equally so?</p> + +<p>"And wherefore, too, should I give rise to useless +tales of family misery, unprovided as I am with any +proofs against the notary? Oh, it is, indeed, a cruel,—a +most cruel case. Sometimes, too, when irritated, +goaded by my reflections almost to madness, I find +myself indulging in bitter plaints against my brother, +and think his conduct more culpable than even the +notary's, as though it were any alleviation of my woes +to have two names to execrate instead of one. But +quickly do I blush at my own base and unworthy suspicions +of one so good, so honourable, so noble-minded +as my poor brother! This infamous notary knows not +all the fearful consequences of his dishonesty. He +fancies he has but taken from us our worldly goods, +while he has plunged a dagger in the hearts of two +innocent, unoffending victims, condemned by his villainy +to die by inches. Alas, I dare not breathe into the ear +of my poor child the full extent of my fears, lest her +young mind should be unable to support the blow!</p> + +<p>"But I am ill,—very, very ill; a burning fever is in +my veins; and 'tis only with the greatest energy and +resolution I contrive to resist its approaches. But too +certainly do I feel aware that the germs of a possibly +mortal disease are in me. I am aware of its gaining +ground hourly. My throat is parched, my head burns +and throbs with racking pains. These symptoms are +even more dangerous than I am willing to own even to +myself. Merciful God! If I were to be ill,—seriously, +fatally ill,—if I should die! But no, no!" almost +shrieked Madame Fermont, with wild excitement; "I +cannot,—I will not die! To leave Claire at sixteen +years of age, alone, and without resource, in the midst +of Paris! Impossible! Oh, no, I am not ill; I have +mistaken the effects of sorrow, cold, and want of rest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +for the precursory symptoms of illness. Any person +similarly placed would have experienced the same. It +is nothing, nothing worth noticing. There must be no +weakness on my part. 'Tis by yielding to such dismal +anticipations that one becomes really attacked by the +very malady we dread. And besides, I have not time +to be ill. Oh, no! On the contrary, I must immediately +exert myself to find employment for Claire and myself, +since the wretch who gave us the prints to colour has +dared to—"</p> + +<p>After a short silence, Madame de Fermont, leaving +her last sentence unfinished, indignantly added:</p> + +<p>"Horrible idea! To ask the shame of my child in +return for the work he doles out to us, and to harshly +withdraw it because I will not suffer my poor Claire to +go to his house unaccompanied, and work there during +the evening alone with him! Possibly I may succeed +in obtaining work elsewhere, either in plain or ornamental +needlework. Yet it is so very difficult when we +are known to no one; and very recently I tried in vain. +Persons are afraid of entrusting their materials to those +who live in such wretched lodgings as ours. And yet I +dare not venture upon others more creditable; for what +would become of us were the small sum we possess once +exhausted? What could we do? We should be utterly +penniless; as destitute as the veriest beggar that ever +walked the earth.</p> + +<p>"And then to think I once was among the richest and +wealthiest! Oh, let me not think of what has been; +such considerations serve but to increase the already +excited state of my brain. It will madden me to recollect +the past; and I am wrong—oh, very wrong—thus +to dwell on ideas that sadden and depress instead of +raising and invigorating my enfeebled mind. Had I +gone on thus weakly indulging regrets, I might, indeed, +have fallen ill,—for I am by no means so at present. +No, no," continued the unfortunate parent, placing her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +fingers upon the wrist of her left hand, "my fever has +left me,—my pulse beats tranquilly."</p> + +<p>Alas! the quick, irregular, and hurried pulsation +perceptible beneath the parched yet icy skin allowed +not of such flattering hopes; and, after pausing in deep +and heartfelt wretchedness for a short space, the unhappy +Madame de Fermont thus continued:</p> + +<p>"Wherefore, O God of Mercies, thus visit with thine +anger two wretched and helpless creatures, utterly unconscious +of having merited thy displeasure? What +has been the crime that has thus drawn down such +heavy punishments upon our heads? Was not my child +a model of innocent piety, as her father was of honour? +Have I not ever scrupulously fulfilled my duties both as +wife and mother? Why, then, permit us to become the +victims of a vile, ignoble wretch,—my sweet, my innocent +child more especially? Oh, when I remember that, +but for the nefarious conduct of this notary, the rising +dawn of my daughter's existence would have been clear +and unclouded, I can scarcely restrain my tears. But +for his base treachery we should now be in our own +home, without further care or sorrow than such as arose +from the painful and unhappy circumstances attending +the death of my poor brother. In two or three years' +time I should have begun to think of marrying my sweet +Claire, that is, if I could have found any one worthy of +so good, so pure-minded, and so lovely a creature as +herself. Who would not have rejoiced in obtaining such +a bride? And further, after having merely reserved to +myself a trifling annuity, sufficient to have enabled me +to live somewhere in the neighbourhood, I intended, on +her marriage, to bestow on her the whole of my remaining +possessions, amounting to at least one hundred +thousand crowns; for I should have been enabled to +lay by something. And, when a lovely and beautiful +young creature, like my Claire, gifted with all the +advantages of a superior education, can, in addition,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +boast of a dowry of more than one hundred thousand +crowns—"</p> + +<p>Then, as she again returned to the realities of her +present position, altogether overcome by the painful contrast, +Madame de Fermont exclaimed, almost frantically:</p> + +<p>"Still, it is not to be supposed that, because the +notary so wills it, I shall sit tamely by and see my only +and beloved child reduced to the most abject misery, +entitled as she is to a life of the most unalloyed felicity. +If I can obtain no redress from the laws of my country, +I will not permit the infamous conduct of this man to +escape unpunished. For if I am driven to desperation, +if I find no means of extricating my daughter and myself +from the deplorable condition to which the villainy of +this man has brought us, I cannot answer for myself, +or what I may do. I may be driven by madness to +retaliate on this man, even by taking his life. And +what if I did, after all I have endured, after all the +scalding tears he has caused me to shed, who could +blame me? At least I should be secure of the pity and +sympathy of all mothers who loved their children as I +do my Claire. Yes; but, then, what would be her +position,—left alone, friendless, unexperienced, and +destitute? Oh, no, no, that is my principal dread; +therefore do I fear to die.</p> + +<p>"And for that same reason dare I not harm the traitor +who has wrought our ruin. What would become of her +at sixteen?—pure and spotless as an angel, 'tis true. +But then she is so surpassingly lovely; and want, desolation, +cold, and misery are fearful things to oppose alone +and unaided. How fearful a conflict might be presented +to one of her tender years, and into how terrible an +abyss might she not fall? Oh, want,—fatal word! As +I trace it, a crowd of sickening images rise before me, +and distract my senses. Destitution, dreadful as it is +to all, is still more formidable to those who have lived +surrounded not only with every comfort, but even luxury.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +One thing I cannot pardon myself for, and that is that, +in the face of all these overwhelming trials, I have not +yet been able to subdue my unfortunate pride; and I +feel persuaded that nothing but the sight of my child, +actually perishing before my eyes for want of bread, +could induce me to beg. How weak, how selfish and +cowardly! Still—"</p> + +<p>Then, as her thoughts wandered to the source of all +her present sufferings and anguish, she mournfully +continued:</p> + +<p>"The notary has reduced me to a state of beggary; I +must, therefore, yield to the stern necessity of my situation. +There must be an end of all delicacy as well as +scruples. They might have been well enough in bygone +days; but my duty is now to stretch forth my hand to +solicit charitable aid for both my daughter and myself. +And if I fail in procuring work, I must make up my +mind to implore the charity of my fellow creatures, +since the roguery of the notary has left me no alternative. +Doubtless in that, as in other trades, there is an +art, an expertness to be acquired, and which experience +alone can bestow. Never mind," continued she, with a +sort of feverish wildness, "one must learn one's craft, +and only practice can make perfect. Surely mine must +be a tale to move even the most unfeeling. I have to +tell of misfortunes alike severe and unmerited,—of an +angelic child, but sixteen years of age, exposed to every +evil of life. But then it requires a practised hand to set +forth all these qualifications, so as best to excite sympathy +and compassion. No matter; I shall manage it, +I feel quite sure. And, after all," exclaimed the half +distracted woman, with a gloomy smile, "what have I +so much to complain of? Fortune is perishable and +precarious; and the notary will, at least, if he has taken +my money, have compelled me to adopt a trade."</p> + +<p>For several minutes Madame de Fermont remained +absorbed in her reflections, then resumed more calmly:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have frequently thought of inquiring for some situation. +What I seem to covet is just such a place as +a female has here who is servant to a lady living on +the first floor. Had I that situation I might probably +receive wages sufficient to maintain Claire; and I might +even, through the intervention of the mistress I served, +be enabled to obtain occupation for my daughter, who +then would remain here. Neither should I be obliged to +quit her. Oh, what joy, could it be so arranged! But +no, no, that would be happiness too great for me to +expect; it would seem like a dream. And then, again, +if I obtained the place, the poor woman now occupying +it must be turned away. Possibly she is as poor and +destitute as ourselves. Well, what if she be? No +scruple has arisen to save us from being stripped of our +all, and my child's preservation outweighs all fastidious +notions of delicacy in my breast. The only difficulty +consists in obtaining an introduction to the lady on +the first floor, and contriving to dispossess the servant +of a place which would be to me the very perfection of +ease and comfort."</p> + +<p>Several loud and hasty knocks at the door startled +Madame de Fermont, and made her daughter spring up +with a sudden cry.</p> + +<p>"For heaven's sake, dear mother," asked poor Claire, +trembling with fear, "what is the matter?" And then, +without giving her agitated parent time to recover herself, +the terrified girl threw her arms around her mother's +neck, as if she sought for safety in that fond, maternal +bosom, while Madame de Fermont, pressing her child +almost convulsively to her breast, gazed with terror at +the door.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, mamma," again moaned Claire, "what was +that noise that awoke me? And why do you seem so +much alarmed?"</p> + +<p>"I know not, my child, what it was. But calm yourself, +there is nothing to fear; some one merely knocked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +at the door,—possibly to bring us a letter from the +post-office."</p> + +<p>At this moment the worm-eaten door shook and +rattled beneath the blows dealt against it by some +powerful fist.</p> + +<p>"Who is there?" inquired Madame de Fermont, in a +trembling tone.</p> + +<p>A harsh, coarse, and vulgar voice replied, "Holloa, +there! What, are you so deaf there's no making you +hear? Holloa, I say, open your door; and let's have +a look at you. Hip, hip, holloa! Come, sharp's the +word; I'm in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"I know you not," exclaimed Madame de Fermont, +striving to command herself sufficiently to speak with a +steady voice; "what is it you seek here?"</p> + +<p>"Not know me? Why, I'm your opposite neighbour +and fellow lodger, Robin. I want a light for my pipe. +Come, cut about. Whoop, holloa! Don't go to sleep +again, or I must come in and wake you."</p> + +<p>"Merciful heavens!" whispered the mother to her +daughter, "'tis that lame man, who is nearly always +intoxicated."</p> + +<p>"Now, then, are you going to give me a light? +Because, I tell you fairly, one I will have if I knock +your rickety old door to pieces."</p> + +<p>"I have no light to give you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother and nonsense! If you have no candle +burning you must have the means of lighting one. +Nobody is without a few lucifer matches, be they ever +so poor. Do you or do you not choose to give me a +light?"</p> + +<p>"I beg of you to go away."</p> + +<p>"You don't choose to open your door, then? Once,—twice,—mind, +I will have it."</p> + +<p>"I request you to quit my door immediately, or I will +call for assistance."</p> + +<p>"Once,—twice,—thrice,—you will not? Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +then, here goes! Now I'll smash your old timbers, +into morsels too small for you to pick up. Hu!—hu!—hallo! +Well done! Bravo!"</p> + +<p>And suiting the action to the word, the ruffian +assailed the door so furiously that he quickly drove +it in, the miserable lock with which it was furnished +having speedily broken to pieces.</p> + +<p>The two women shrieked loudly; Madame de Fermont, +in spite of her weakness, rushed forward to meet +the ruffian at the moment when he was entering the +room, and stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Sir, this is most shameful; you must not enter +here," exclaimed the unhappy mother, keeping the door +closed as well as she could. "I will call for help." +And she shuddered at the sight of this man, with his +hideous and drunken countenance.</p> + +<p>"What's all this? What's all this?" said he. +"Oughtn't neighbours to be obliging? You ought +to have opened; I shouldn't have broken anything."</p> + +<p>Then with the stupid obstinacy of intoxication, he +added, reeling on his tottering legs:</p> + +<p>"I wanted to come in, and I will come in; and I +won't go out until I've lighted my pipe."</p> + +<p>"I have neither fire nor matches. In heaven's name, +sir, do go away."</p> + +<p>"That's not true. You tell me that I may not see +the little girl who's in bed. Yesterday you stopped up +all the holes in the door. She's a pretty chick, and I +should like to see her. So mind, or I shall hurt you if +you don't let me enter quietly. I tell you I will see the +little girl in her bed, and I will light my pipe, or I'll +smash everything before me, and you into the bargain."</p> + +<p>"Help, help, help!" exclaimed Madame de Fermont, +who felt the door yielding before the broad shoulders of +the Gros-Boiteux.</p> + +<p>Alarmed by her cries, the man retreated a step; and +clenching his fist at Madame de Fermont, he said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You shall pay me for this, mind. I will come back +to-night and wring your tongue out, and then you can't +squall out."</p> + +<p>And the Gros-Boiteux, as he was called at the Isle du +Ravageur, went down the staircase, uttering horrible +threats.</p> + +<p>Madame de Fermont, fearing that he might return, +and seeing that the lock was broken, dragged the table +across the room, in order to barricade it. Claire had +been so alarmed, so agitated, at this horrible scene, that +she had fallen on her bed almost senseless, and overcome +by a nervous attack. Her mother, forgetting her own +fears, ran to her, embraced her, gave her a little water +to drink, and by her caresses and attentions revived her. +When she saw her gradually recovering she said to +her:</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself; don't be alarmed, my dearest child, +this wicked man has gone." Then the unfortunate +mother exclaimed, in a tone of indescribable indignation +and grief, "And it is that notary who is the first cause +of all our sufferings."</p> + +<p>Claire looked about her with as much astonishment as +fear.</p> + +<p>"Take courage, my child," said Madame de Fermont, +embracing her tenderly; "the wretch has gone."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, if he should come back again! You +see, though you cried so loud for help, no one came. +Oh, pray let us leave this house, or I shall die with +fear!"</p> + +<p>"How you tremble; you are quite in a fever."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said the young girl, to reassure her mother, +"it is nothing—only fright,—and that will soon pass +away. And you,—how do you feel? Give me your +hands. Oh, how they burn! It is, indeed, you who are +suffering; and you try to conceal it from me!"</p> + +<p>"Don't think so; I feel better than I did. It is only +the fright that man caused me which makes me so. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +was sleeping soundly in my chair, and only awoke when +you did."</p> + +<p>"Yet, mamma, your poor eyes look so red and +inflamed!"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, my dear, one does not sleep so +refreshingly in a chair."</p> + +<p>"And you really do not suffer?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, I assure you. And you?"</p> + +<p>"Nor I either. I only tremble with fear. Pray, +mamma, let us leave this house!"</p> + +<p>"And where shall we go to? You know what trouble +we had to find this miserable chamber; for, unfortunately, +we have no papers,—and, besides, we have paid a fortnight +in advance. They will not return our money; and +we have so very, very little left, that we must take all +possible care of it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps M. de Saint-Remy will answer you in a day +or two."</p> + +<p>"I cannot hope for that. It is so long since I wrote +to him."</p> + +<p>"He cannot have received your letter. Why did not +you write to him again? From here to Angers is not +so far, and we should soon have his answer."</p> + +<p>"My poor child, you know how much that has cost +me already!"</p> + +<p>"But there's no risk; and he is so good in spite of +his roughness. Wasn't he one of the oldest friends of +my father? And then he is a relation of ours."</p> + +<p>"But he is poor himself,—his fortune is very small. +Perhaps he does not reply to us that he may avoid the +pain of a refusal."</p> + +<p>"But he may not have received your letter, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"And if he has received it, my dear,—one of two +things, either he is himself in too painful a position to +come to our aid, or he feels no interest in us. What, +then, is the use of exposing ourselves to a refusal or +humiliation?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come, come, courage, mamma; we have still a hope +left. Perhaps this very morning will bring us a kind +answer."</p> + +<p>"From M. d'Orbigny?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; the letter of which you had made the rough +copy was so simple and touching. It showed our miserable +condition so naturally that he will have pity on us. +Really, I don't know why, but something tells me you +are wrong to despair of him."</p> + +<p>"He has so little motive for taking any interest in us. +It is true he formerly knew your father, and I have often +heard my poor brother speak of M. d'Orbigny as a man +with whom he was on good terms before the latter left +Paris to retire into the country with his young +wife."</p> + +<p>"It is that which makes me hope. He has a young +wife, and she will be compassionate. And then in the +country one can do so much good. He will take you, I +should think, as a housekeeper, and I could work in the +needle-room. Then M. d'Orbigny is very rich, and in a +great house there is always so much to do."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but we have so little claim on his kind +interest!"</p> + +<p>"We are so unfortunate!"</p> + +<p>"It is true that is a claim in the eyes of charitably +disposed persons."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope that M. d'Orbigny and his wife are so."</p> + +<p>"Then if we do not have any or an unfavorable +answer from him, I will overcome my false shame, and +write to the Duchesse de Lucenay."</p> + +<p>"The lady of whom M. de Saint-Remy has spoken so +often, and whose kindness and generosity he so much, +praised?"</p> + +<p>"The same,—daughter of the Prince de Noirmont. +He knew her when she was very young, and treated her +almost always as if she were his own child, for he was +on terms of the closest intimacy with the prince. Madame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +de Lucenay must have many acquaintances, and, no doubt, +could easily find situations for us."</p> + +<p>"No doubt, mamma. But I understand your delicacy; +you do not know her, whilst, at least, my father +and my uncle both knew a little of M. d'Orbigny."</p> + +<p>"Well, but in case Madame de Lucenay cannot do +anything for us, I have still another resource."</p> + +<p>"What is that, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"A very poor one,—a very weak hope, perhaps. +But why should I not try it? M. de Saint-Remy's +son is—"</p> + +<p>"Has M. de Saint-Remy a son?" exclaimed Claire, +interrupting her mother with great astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, he has a son."</p> + +<p>"Yet he never spoke of him when he used to come to +Angers."</p> + +<p>"True, and, for reasons which you cannot understand, +M. de Saint-Remy, having quitted Paris fifteen +years ago, has not seen his son since that period."</p> + +<p>"Fifteen years without seeing his father! Is that +possible?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, yes! As you see, the son of M. de Saint-Remy, +being very much sought after in society, and very rich—"</p> + +<p>"Very rich, whilst his father is poor?"</p> + +<p>"All young M. de Saint-Remy's wealth came from his +mother."</p> + +<p>"What of that,—how could he leave his father?"</p> + +<p>"His father would not accept anything from him."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"That is a question to which I cannot reply, my dear +child; but I have heard it said by my poor brother that +this young man was reputed vastly generous. Young +and generous, he ought to be good. Learning from me +that my husband had been his father's intimate friend, +perhaps he will interest himself in trying to find us +work or employment. He has such high and extensive +connections, that this would be no trouble to him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And then, perhaps, too, we could learn from him if +M. de Saint-Remy, his father, had not quitted Angers +before you wrote to him: that would account for his +silence."</p> + +<p>"I think, my dear, that M. de Saint-Remy has not +kept up any connection with—Still, we cannot but try."</p> + +<p>"Unless M. d'Orbigny replies to you favourably, and +I repeat, I don't know why, but I have hopes, in spite of +myself."</p> + +<p>"It is now many days, my dear, since I wrote to him, +telling him all the causes of our misfortunes, and yet to +this time we have no reply,—none. A letter put in the +post before four o'clock in the evening reaches Aubiers +next morning, and thus we might have had his answer +five days ago."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, before he replies, he is considering in what +way he can best be useful to us."</p> + +<p>"May Heaven hear thee, my child!"</p> + +<p>"It appears to me plain enough, mamma, if he could +not do anything for us, he could have written at once, +and said so."</p> + +<p>"Unless he will do nothing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, is that possible? to refuse to answer +us, and leave us in hope for four days—eight days, +perhaps; for when one is miserable we always hope."</p> + +<p>"Alas, my child, there is sometimes so much indifference +for the miseries persons have never known!"</p> + +<p>"But your letter—"</p> + +<p>"My letter cannot give him any idea of our actual +disquietude, our constant sufferings; my letter will not +depict to him our unhappy life, our constant humiliations, +our existence in this horrid house,—the fright we have +but this instant experienced. My letter will not describe +the horrible future which is in store for us, if—But, +my love, do not let us talk of that. You tremble,—you +are cold."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma, don't mind me; but tell me, suppose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +all fails us, the little money we have in the box is spent,—is +it possible that, in a city as rich as Paris, we shall +both die of hunger and misery—for want of work, and +because a wicked man has taken from you all you had +in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, be silent, my unfortunate child!"</p> + +<p>"But really, mamma, is it possible?"</p> + +<p>"Alas!"</p> + +<p>"But God, who knows all, who can do all, will he +abandon us, who have never offended him?"</p> + +<p>"I entreat you, my dearest girl, do not give way to +these distressing ideas. I would prefer seeing you hope, +without great reason, either. Come, come, comfort me +rather with your consoling ideas; I am but too apt to be +discouraged, as you well know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, let us hope, that is best. No doubt the +porter's nephew will return to-day from the <i>Poste-Restante</i> +with a letter. Another errand to pay out of your little +stock, and through my fault. If I had not been so weak +yesterday and to-day we should have gone to the post-office +ourselves, as we did the day before yesterday; but +you will not leave me here alone and go yourself."</p> + +<p>"How could I, my dear? Only think, just now, +that horrid man who burst open the door! Suppose you +had been alone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, pray don't talk of it; it quite frightens +me only to think of it."</p> + +<p>At this moment some one knocked suddenly at the +door.</p> + +<p>"Heaven, it is he again!" exclaimed Madame de +Fermont, still under her first fears; and she pushed the +table against the door with all her strength. Her fears +ceased when she heard the voice of Father Micou:</p> + +<p>"Madame, my nephew, André, has come from the +<i>Poste-Restante</i>. He has brought a letter with an 'X' +and a 'Z.' It comes a long way; there are eight sous +for postage, and commission makes twenty sous."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mamma, a letter from the country,—we are saved! +It is from M. de Saint-Remy or M. d'Orbigny. Poor +mother! You will not suffer any more; you will no +longer be uneasy about me, you will be so happy! God +is just! God is good!" exclaimed the young girl, and a +ray of hope lighted up her mild and lovely face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, thank you; give it to me quickly!" said +Madame de Fermont, moving the table as well as she +could, and half opening the door.</p> + +<p>"Twenty sous," said the man, giving her the anxiously +desired letter.</p> + +<p>"I will pay you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, madame, there's no hurry, I am going up higher; +in ten minutes I shall be down again, and can call for the +money as I pass."</p> + +<p>"The letter is from Normandy, with the postmark +of 'Les Aubiers.' It is from Madame d'Orbigny!" +exclaimed Madame de Fermont, examining the address, +"To Madame X. Z., <i>Poste-Restante</i>, à Paris."</p> + +<p>"Well, mamma, am I right? Oh, how my heart +beats!"</p> + +<p>"Our good or bad fate is in it," said Madame de Fermont; +and twice her trembling hand was extended to +break the seal; she had not courage.</p> + +<p>How can we describe the terrible agony to which they +are a prey who, like Madame de Fermont, expect a letter +which brings them either hope or despair? The burning, +fevered excitement of the player whose last pieces +of gold are hazarded on a card, and who, breathless, with +inflamed eye, awaits for a decisive cast which brings his +ruin or his fortune,—this emotion, violent as it is, may +perhaps give some idea of the painful anguish of which +we speak. In a second the soul is elevated to the most +radiant hope or relapses into the most mortal discouragement. +According as he hopes to be aided, or fears to be +refused, the unhappy wretch suffers in turn emotions of +a most contrary nature,—unutterable feelings of happiness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +and gratitude to the generous heart which pities +his miserable condition—bitter and intense resentment +against selfish indifference!</p> + +<p>When it is a question of deserving sufferers, those +who give often would perhaps give always, and those +who always refuse would perhaps give frequently, if they +knew or saw that the hope of benevolent aid or the fear +of a haughty refusal—that their decision, indeed—can +excite all that is distressing or encouraging in the hearts +of their petitioners.</p> + +<p>"What weakness!" said Madame de Fermont, with a +deep sigh, seating herself by her daughter; "once again, +my poor Claire, our destiny is in this envelope; I burn +with anxiety to know its contents, and yet I dare not +read it. If it be a refusal, alas, it will be soon +enough!"</p> + +<p>"And if it be a promise of assistance, then, mamma—If +this poor little letter contain consoling words, which +shall assure us for the future, by promising us a humble +employment in the establishment of M. d'Orbigny, every +moment lost is a moment of happiness lost,—is it +not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my love; but on the other hand—"</p> + +<p>"No, mamma, you are mistaken; I told you that M. +d'Orbigny had only delayed so long that he might mention +something certain to you. Let me see the letter, +mamma. I am sure I can guess if it is good or bad by +the writing. And I am sure," said Claire, looking at +the letter, "that it is a kind and generous hand, accustomed +to execute benevolence towards those who suffer."</p> + +<p>"I entreat you, Claire, not to give way to vain hopes; +for, if you do, I shall not have the courage to open the +letter."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, without opening it, I can tell +you almost word for word what it contains. Listen: +'Madame,—Your fate and that of your daughter are +so worthy of interest, that I beg you will come to me, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +case you should like to undertake the superintendence of +my house.'"</p> + +<p>"Pray, my dearest, I beseech you, do not give way to +vain hopes; the disappointment would be terrible!" said +Madame de Fermont, taking the letter.</p> + +<p>"Come, dear mamma," said Claire, smiling, and +excited by one of those feelings of certainty so natural +to her age, "give me the letter; I have courage to +read it!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Madame de Fermont, "I will read it! It +is from the Comtesse d'Orbigny."</p> + +<p>"So much the better," replied Claire.</p> + +<p>"We shall see." And Madame de Fermont read as +follows in a trembling voice:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indent">"'<span class="smcap">Madame</span>:—M. the Comte d'Orbigny, who has been a +great invalid for some time, could not reply to you during my +absence—'"</p> +</div> + +<p>"You see, mamma, it was no one's fault."</p> + +<p>"Listen, listen!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"'On arriving from Paris this morning, I hasten to write to +you, madame, after having discussed your letter with M. d'Orbigny. +He recollects but very indistinctly the intimacy you +allude to as having subsisted between him and your brother. +As to the name of your husband, madame, it is not unknown to +M. d'Orbigny; but he cannot recall to mind under what circumstances +he has heard it. The spoliation of which you so unhesitatingly +accuse M. Jacques Ferrand, whom we have the happiness +to call our solicitor, is, in the eyes of M. d'Orbigny, a cruel calumny, +whose effects you have by no means calculated upon. My +husband, as well as myself, madame, know and admire the extreme +probity of the respectable and pious individual whom you so +blindly assail; and I am compelled to tell you, madame, that M. +d'Orbigny, whilst he regrets the painful situation in which you +are placed, and the real cause of which it is not his business to +find out, feels it impossible to afford you the assistance requested. +Accept, madame, with the expression of M. d'Orbigny's regrets, +my best compliments.</p> + +<p class="sigs">"'<span class="smcap">Comtesse d'Orbigny</span>.'"</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>The mother and daughter looked at each other perfectly +stupefied, and incapable of uttering a word. Father +Micou rapped at the door, and said:</p> + +<p>"Madame, may I come in for the postage and commission? +It's twenty sous."</p> + +<p>"Ah, true, such good news is worth a sum on which +we exist for two days," said Madame de Fermont, with +a bitter smile, laying the letter down on her daughter's +bed, and going towards an old trunk without a lock, to +which she stooped down and opened. "We are robbed!" +exclaimed the unhappy woman, with alarm. "Nothing—not +a sou left!" she added, in a mournful voice; +and, overwhelmed, she supported herself on the trunk.</p> + +<p>"What do you say, mamma,—the bag with the money +in it?"</p> + +<p>But Madame de Fermont, rising suddenly, opened the +room door, and, addressing the receiver, who was on +the landing-place:</p> + +<p>"Sir," she said, whilst her eyes sparkled, and her +cheeks were flushed with indignation and alarm, "I had +a bag of silver in this trunk; it was stolen from me, no +doubt, the day before yesterday, when I went out for an +hour with my daughter. The money must be restored, +I tell you,—you are responsible for it!"</p> + +<p>"You've been robbed! That's false, I know. My +house is respectable," said the fellow, in an insolent and +brutal tone; "you only say that in order not to pay me +my postage and commission."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, sir, that this money was all I possessed in +the world; it has been stolen from me, and I must have +it found and restored, or I will lodge an information. +Oh, I will conceal nothing—I will respect nothing—I +tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Very fine, indeed! You who have got no papers. Go +and lay your information,—go at once. Why don't +you? I defy you, I do!"</p> + +<p>The wretched woman was thunderstruck. She could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +not go out and leave her daughter alone, confined to her +bed as she was by the fright the Gros-Boiteux had occasioned +her in the morning, and particularly after the +threats with which the receiver of stolen goods had +menaced her. He added:</p> + +<p>"This is a fudge! You'd as much a bag of silver there +as a bag of gold. Will you pay me for the letter,—will +you or won't you? Well, it's just the same to me. +When you go by my door, I'll snatch off your old black +shawl from your shoulders. It's a precious shabby one; +but I daresay I can make twenty sous out of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir," exclaimed Madame de Fermont, bursting +into tears, "I beseech you have pity upon us! This +small sum is all we possess, my daughter and I, and, +that stolen, we have nothing left—nothing—I say +nothing, but—to die of starvation!"</p> + +<p>"What can I do? If it's true that you have been +robbed, and of silver, too (which appears to me very unlikely), +why, the silver has been melted long since, rely +on it."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!</i>"</p> + +<p>"The chap who did the trick was not so soft, rely on +it, as to mark the pieces, and keep 'em here, to lead to +his own detection. Supposing it's any one in the house, +which I don't believe (for, as I was a-saying this morning +to the uncle of the lady on the first floor, this is +really a village), if any one has robbed you, it is a pity. +You may lay a hundred informations, but you won't recover +a centime. You won't do any good by that, I tell +you, and you may believe me. Well, but I say—" exclaimed +the receiver, stopping short, and seeing Madame +de Fermont stagger. "What's the matter? How pale +you are! Mademoiselle, your mother's taken ill!" +added Micou, just advancing in time to catch the unhappy +mother, who, overcome by this last shock, felt +her senses forsake her,—the forced energy which had +supported her so long failed before this fresh blow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mother, dear, oh, what ails you?" exclaimed +Claire, still in her bed.</p> + +<p>The receiver, still vigorous in spite of his fifty years, +seized with a momentary feeling of pity, took Madame +de Fermont in his arms, pushed the door open with his +knee, and, entering the chamber, said:</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, mademoiselle, for entering whilst you +are in bed, but I was obliged to bring in your mother; +she has fainted, but it won't last long."</p> + +<p>On seeing the man enter, Claire shrieked loudly, and +the unhappy girl hid herself as well as she could under +the bedclothes. The huckster seated Madame de Fermont +in a chair beside the bed, and then went out, leaving +the door ajar, for the Gros-Boiteux had broken the +lock.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>One hour after this last shock, the violent malady +which had so long hung over and threatened Madame de +Fermont had developed itself. A prey to a burning +fever and to fearful delirium, the unhappy woman was +placed beside her daughter, who, horror-struck, aghast, +alone, and almost as ill as her mother, had neither money +nor recourse, and was in an agony of fear every moment +lest the ruffian who lodged on the same floor should +enter the apartment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<h5>THE RUE DE CHAILLOT.</h5> + + +<p>We will precede M. Badinot by some hours, as in haste +he proceeded from the Passage de la Brasserie to the +Vicomte de Saint-Remy. The latter, as we have said, +lived in the Rue de Chaillot, and occupied a delightful +small house, built between the court and the garden in +this quarter, so solitary, although so close to the Champs +Elysées, the most fashionable promenade in Paris.</p> + +<p>It is useless to enumerate the advantages which M. de +Saint-Remy, who was decidedly a man <i>à bonnes fortunes</i>, +derived from the position of a residence so sagaciously +selected. We will only say that a gentleman (or a lady) +could enter very privately by a small door in the large +garden which opened into a back lane absolutely deserted, +communicating from the Rue Marboeuf to the Rue de +Chaillot. By wonderful chance, one of the finest nursery-grounds +in Paris having also in this quiet passage a +way out that was little frequented, the mysterious visitors +of M. de Saint-Remy, in case of a surprise or sudden +rencounter, were armed with a most plausible and +bucolical excuse for their visit to the lonely alley: they +were there (they might say if they pleased) to choose +some rare flowers from the celebrated gardener who was +so renowned for the beauty of his conservatories. The +visitors need only thus tell half falsehoods; for the vicomte, +plentifully imbued with all the tastes of most +costly luxuries, had a delightful greenhouse, which extended +along the side of the alley we have alluded to.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +The small private door opened on this delightful winter +garden, which terminated in a boudoir (forgive the superannuated +expression), which was on the ground floor +of the house.</p> + +<p>We may say, therefore, without metaphor, that a +female who passed this dangerous threshold, to enter +M. de Saint-Remy's house, ran to her ruin through a +flowery path; for, in the winter particularly, this lonely +alley was bordered with real bushes of bright and perfumed +flowers. Madame de Lucenay, jealous as a woman +deeply in love always is, had demanded the key of this +small door.</p> + +<p>If we dwell somewhat on the general aspect of this +dwelling, it is that it reflected (if we may be allowed +the expression) one of those degrading existences which +from day to day become happily more rare, but which +it may be as well to note down as one of the peculiarities +of the epoch.</p> + +<p>The interior of M. de Saint-Remy's house presented +(viewed in this light) a curious appearance, or rather +the house was separated into two distinct zones,—the +ground floor, where he received his female visitors; the +first story, where he received his gambling companions +or his dinner or hunting associates; in a word, what he +called his friends. Thus on the ground floor was a bedchamber, +which was nothing but gold, mirrors, flowers, +satin, and lace; then a small music-room, in which was +a harp and piano (M. de Saint-Remy was an excellent +musician); a cabinet of pictures; and then the boudoir, +which communicated with the conservatory; a dining-room +for two persons, who were served and passed away +the dishes and plates by a turning window; a bath-room, +a model of luxury and Oriental refinement; and, close +at hand, a small library, a portion of which was arranged +after the catalogue of that which La Mettrie had collected +for Frederic the Great. Such was this apartment.</p> + +<p>It would be unavailing to say that all these rooms,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +furnished with exquisite taste, and with a Sardanapalian +luxury, had as ornaments Watteaus little known; Bouchers +never engraved; wanton subjects, formerly purchased at +enormous prices. There were, besides, groups modelled +in terra-cotta, by Clodien, and here and there, on plinths +of jasper or antique breccia, some rare copies, in white +marble, of the most jovial and lovely bacchanals of the +Secret Museum of Naples.</p> + +<p>Add to this, in summer there were in perspective the +green recesses of a well-planted garden, lonely, replete +with flowers and birds, watered by a small and sparkling +fountain, which, before it spread itself on the verdant +turf, fell from a black and shaggy rock, scintillated like a +strip of silver gauze, and dashed into a clear basin like +mother-of-pearl, where beautiful white swans wantoned +with grace and freedom.</p> + +<p>Then, when the mild and serene night came on, what +shade, what perfume, what silence, was there in those +odorous clumps, whose thick foliage served as a dais for +the rustic seats formed of reeds and Indian mats.</p> + +<p>During the winter, on the contrary, except the glass +door which opened to the hothouse, all was kept close +shut. The transparent silk of the blinds, the net lace of +the curtains, made the daylight still more mysterious. +On all the pieces of furniture large tufts of exotic plants +seemed to put forth their large flowers, resplendent with +gold and enamel.</p> + +<p>In order to do the honours of this temple, which +seemed raised to antique Love, or the denuded divinities +of Greece, behold a man, young, handsome, elegant, +and distinguished,—by turns witty and tender, romantic +or libertine; now jesting and gay to folly, now full of +charm and grace; an excellent musician, gifted with +one of those impassioned, vibrating voices which women +cannot hear without experiencing a deep impression, +almost physical,—in fact, a man essentially made for +love,—such was the vicomte. In Athens, no doubt, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +would have been admired, exalted, deified, as was Alcibiades; +in our days, and at the period of which we write, +the vicomte was nothing more than a base forger, a contemptible +swindler.</p> + +<p>The first story of M. de Saint-Remy's house was +exceedingly masculine in its whole appearance. It was +there he received his many friends, all of whom were of +the very highest society. There was nothing effeminate, +nothing coquettish. The furniture was plain, but elegant, +the ornaments being first-rate weapons of all sorts, pictures +of race-horses, who had won for the vicomte a +great number of magnificent gold and silver vases, +which were placed on the tables and sideboards.</p> + +<p>The smoking-room and play-room were closed by a +cheerful dining-room, where eight persons (the number +to which the guests were rigidly confined when there +was a first-class dinner) had often appreciated the +excellence of the cook, and the no less high merit of +the wine of the vicomte, before they faced him at some +high game of whist for five or six hundred louis, or shook +the noisy dice-box at infernal hazard or roulette.</p> + +<p>These two widely opposite shades of M. de Saint-Remy +disclosed, the reader will follow us into the regions below, +to the very comfortable apartment of Edwards Patterson, +the master of the horse of M. de Saint-Remy, who had +invited M. Boyer to breakfast. A very pretty English +maid-servant having withdrawn after she had brought +in the silver teapot, these two worthies remained alone.</p> + +<p>Edwards was about forty years of age, and never +did more skilful or stouter coachman make a seat +groan under his most imposing rotundity; never did +powdered wig enclose a more rubicund visage; and +never did a more knowing and competent driver hold +in his four fingers and thumb the reins of a four-in-hand. +As good a judge of a horse as Tattersal (and in his +youth he had been as good a trainer as the old and +celebrated Chiffney), Edwards had been to the vicomte<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +a most excellent coachman, and a man perfectly capable +of superintending the training of race-horses on which +he had betted heavily.</p> + +<p>When he did not assume his sumptuous brown and +silver livery on the emblazoned hammercloth of his box, +Edwards very much resembled an honest English farmer; +and it is under this aspect that we shall present him to +the reader, adding, at the same time, that beneath this +round and red visage there lurked all the pitiless and +devilish cunning of the horse-dealer.</p> + +<p>M. Boyer, his guest, the confidential servant of the +vicomte, was a tall, thin man, with gray, smooth hair, +bald forehead, cunning glance, with a countenance calm, +discreet, and reserved. He expressed himself in somewhat +choice phraseology, with polite, easy manners; he +was tolerably well informed, his political opinions being +legitimist, and he could take his part as first violin in an +amateur quartette. From time to time, and with the +best air in the world, he took a pinch of snuff from a +gold snuff-box, set around with fine pearls, after which +he negligently shook with the back of his hand (as white +and carefully attended to as his master's) the particles +of snuff from the frill of his fine Holland shirt.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, my dear Edwards," said Boyer, "that +your maid, Betty, really does your meals in a very fair +manner! <i>Ma foi!</i> now and then one gets tired of high +living."</p> + +<p>"The fact is that Betty is a very good girl," said +Edwards, who spoke very good French. "I shall take +her with me into my establishment, if I make up my +mind to set up in housekeeping; and on this point, since +we are alone, my dear Boyer, let us talk of business +matters which you know as well as I do."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, tolerably," said Boyer, modestly taking a +pinch of snuff, "one learns them so naturally, when they +are the affairs of others that occupy us."</p> + +<p>"I want your advice on a very important point, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +that's the reason I have begged you to come and take a +cup of tea with me."</p> + +<p>"I'm at your service, my dear Edwards."</p> + +<p>"You know that, besides the race-horses, I had an +agreement with M. le Vicomte to the complete providing +of his stable, horses, and men, that is to say, eight horses +and five or six grooms and boys, for twenty-four thousand +francs (nine thousand guineas) a year, including my +wages."</p> + +<p>"That was moderate enough."</p> + +<p>"For four years M. le Vicomte paid me very regularly; +but about the middle of last year he said to me, +'Edwards, I owe you about twenty-four thousand francs. +What value, at the lowest, do you set on my horses and +carriages?' 'Monsieur le Vicomte, the eight horses +ought to fetch three thousand francs (120<i>l.</i>) each, one +with another, and that would make (and it's true, Boyer, +for the pair of phaeton horses cost five hundred guineas) +exactly twenty-four thousand francs for the horses. As +to the carriages, there are four, let us say, for twelve +thousand francs; that, added to the twenty-four thousand +francs for the horses, makes thirty-six thousand francs.' +'Well,' replied the vicomte, 'buy the whole of me at +that price, on condition that for the twelve thousand +francs which you will owe me, paid as it were in advance, +you shall keep and place at my disposal horses, servants, +and carriages for six months.'"</p> + +<p>"And you very wisely acceded to the proposal, Edwards? +It was a golden gain to you."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. In another fortnight the six months will +have expired, and I become proprietor of the horses and +carriages."</p> + +<p>"Nothing plainer. The agreement was drawn up by +M. Badinot, the vicomte's man of business, what do you +want with my advice?"</p> + +<p>"What should I do? To sell the horses and carriages +in consequence of M. le Vicomte's departure? All<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +would sell well, as he is known as one of the first judges +in Paris; or ought I to set up as a horse-dealer with my +stud, which would make a capital beginning? What +is your opinion—your advice?"</p> + +<p>"I advise you to do what I shall do myself."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"I am in the same position as yourself."</p> + +<p>"You?"</p> + +<p>"M. le Vicomte detests details. When I entered in +his service I had, by savings and inheritance, sixty thousand +francs (2,400<i>l.</i>). I paid the expenses of the house +as you did of the stables; and every year M. le Vicomte +paid me without examining my account. At nearly the +same time as yourself I found myself out of pocket +about twenty thousand francs on my own account, and, +to the tradespeople, sixty thousand francs. Then M. le +Vicomte made me the same proposition as to yourself, +in order to reimburse me. I was to sell the furniture +of the house, including the plate, which is very handsome, +very fine paintings, etc., the whole estimated +at a hundred and forty thousand francs (5,600<i>l.</i>). There +were eighty thousand francs to pay, and there remained +sixty thousand francs which I was to disburse until they +were quite exhausted, in the expenses of the table, the +servants' wages, etc., and in nothing else. These were +the terms of the agreement."</p> + +<p>"Because on that outlay you have a profit."</p> + +<p>"As a matter of course; for I made all the agreements +with the tradespeople, whom I shall not pay until +after the sale," said Boyer, taking a huge pinch of snuff; +"so that at the end of this month—"</p> + +<p>"The furniture is yours, as the horses and carriages +are mine."</p> + +<p>"Precisely so. M. le Vicomte has gained by this, by +living for the last few months as he likes to live, <i>en +grand seigneur</i>,—and that in the very teeth of his +creditors; for furniture, plate, horses, carriages, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +had all been paid for ready money when he came of +age, have now become the property of yourself and +myself."</p> + +<p>"And so M. le Vicomte is really ruined?"</p> + +<p>"In five years."</p> + +<p>"And M. le Vicomte inherited—"</p> + +<p>"Only a miserable million (40,000<i>l.</i>), ready money," +said M. Boyer, with a disdainful air, and taking a pinch +of snuff. "Add to this two hundred thousand francs +of debts (8,000<i>l.</i>), about—that's pretty well! It was, +therefore, to tell you, my dear Edwards, that I had an +intention of letting this house, so admirably furnished as +it is, to some English family, linen, glass, china, silver, +conservatory. Some of your country-people would pay +a good rent for it?"</p> + +<p>"Unquestionably. Why don't you do so?"</p> + +<p>"Why, there's considerable risk, and so I make up +my mind to sell the whole at once. M. le Vicomte is +also known as a connoisseur in first-class furniture and +objects of art, so that anything that he has selected +will always fetch double its value, and I am safe to +realise a large sum. Do as I do, Edwards, and realise—realise. +Don't risk your profits in speculation. You, +first coachman of M. le Vicomte de Saint-Remy,—why, +there'll be a competition for you. And yesterday I just +heard of a minor who has recently been emancipated, a +cousin of Madame la Duchesse de Lucenay, the young +Duc de Montbrison, who has just arrived from Italy +with his tutor, and is forming his establishment. Two +hundred and fifty thousand livres of income (10,000<i>l.</i>) +from land, my dear Edwards, two hundred and fifty +thousand livres a year,—just entering into life,—twenty +years of age only,—with all the illusions of +simple confidence, and all the desires of expenditure,—prodigal +as a prince. I know the steward; and I tell +you, in confidence, he has all but concluded with me as +first <i>valet de chambre</i>. He patronises me,—the fool!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +And M. Boyer shrugged his shoulders, whilst he inhaled +another large pinch of snuff.</p> + +<p>"You hope to get rid of him?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Parbleu</i>, he is a jackanapes,—an ass! He places +me there as if he ought not to have any fears of me. +Before two months I shall be in his place."</p> + +<p>"Two hundred and fifty thousand livres a year in +land!" replied Edwards, reflecting; "and a young man! +It is a good house?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you there is everything to make a man comfortable. +I will speak to my protector for you," said +M. Boyer, with irony. "Take the place; it is a fortune +which has roots to it, and one may hold on by it for a +long time. It is not like the unfortunate million of +M. le Vicomte, a snowball, and nothing else,—a ray +of a Parisian sun, and that's all. I soon saw that I +should only be a bird of passage here. It's a pity, for +the establishment did us credit; and, to the last moment, +I will serve M. le Vicomte with the respect and esteem +due to him."</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, my dear Boyer, I thank you, and accept +your proposition. And, now I think of it, suppose I +were to propose the stud of M. le Vicomte to this young +duke! It is all ready, and known and admired all over +Paris."</p> + +<p>"True, you may make a profitable affair of it."</p> + +<p>"And you, why don't you propose to him this house +so admirably fitted up in every way? What could he +find better?"</p> + +<p>"Bravo! Edwards, you are a man of sense decidedly; +you have suggested a most excellent idea. We must +ask the vicomte; he is such a good master that he will +not refuse to speak for us to the young duke. He may +say that, as he is going on the legation of Gerolstein, to +which he is attached, he wishes to get rid of his whole +establishment. Let us see. One hundred and sixty +thousand francs for the house furnished, twenty thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +francs for plate and pictures, fifty thousand francs +for stable and carriages, that makes two hundred and +thirty thousand francs; and it is a bargain for a young +man who wishes to be set up at once in the first +style."</p> + +<p>"And the horses!"</p> + +<p>"And the capital table! Gallefroi, his cook, will +leave a hundred times better off than when he came +here first. M. le Vicomte has given him capital instruction,—has +regularly refined him!"</p> + +<p>"They say, too, that M. le Vicomte is such a capital +player?"</p> + +<p>"Admirable! Gaining large sums with even more +indifference than he loses them! And yet I never saw +any one lose with better taste!"</p> + +<p>"And the women, Boyer,—the women! Ah, you +could tell a tale! You have the sole <i>entrée</i> to the +apartments of the ground floor—"</p> + +<p>"I have my secrets as you have yours, my dear +fellow."</p> + +<p>"Mine?"</p> + +<p>"When M. le Vicomte ran his horses, had you not +your confidences? I will not attack the honesty of the +jockeys of your opponents; but there were reports—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, my dear Boyer, a gentleman never compromises +the reputation of a jockey who is against him, +and has the weakness to listen—"</p> + +<p>"Then a gallant never compromises the reputation +of a woman who has been kind to him. So, I say, let's +keep our secrets, or, rather, the secrets of M. le Vicomte, +my dear Edwards."</p> + +<p>"Ah, good! What will he do now?"</p> + +<p>"He is going to Germany in a good travelling carriage, +with seven or eight thousand francs, which he +knows when to lay his hand upon. Oh, I have no fears +for the vicomte! He is one of those personages who +always fall on their feet, as they say."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And he has no future expectancies?"</p> + +<p>"None; for his father has nothing but just enough to +live upon."</p> + +<p>"His father?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"M. le Vicomte's father is not dead?"</p> + +<p>"He was not dead five or six months ago when M. le +Vicomte wrote to him for some family papers."</p> + +<p>"But we never see him here?"</p> + +<p>"For reasons good. For fifteen years he has resided +in the country at Angers."</p> + +<p>"But M. le Vicomte never visits him?"</p> + +<p>"His father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Never—never!"</p> + +<p>"Have they quarrelled, then?"</p> + +<p>"What I am going to tell you is no secret, for I have +it from the old man of business of M. the Prince de +Noirmont."</p> + +<p>"Father of Madame de Lucenay?" said Edwards, +with a knowing glance at Boyer, who, appearing not to +understand him, replied coolly:</p> + +<p>"Madame la Duchesse de Lucenay is the daughter +of M. the Prince de Noirmont. The father of M. le +Vicomte was bosom friend of the prince. Madame la +Duchesse was then very young, and M. de Saint-Remy, +senior, who was very fond of her, treated her as if she +were his own child. I learnt these details from Simon, +the prince's man of business; and I may speak unhesitatingly, +for the adventure I am about to narrate to you +was, at the time, the talk of all Paris. In spite of his +sixty years, the father of M. le Vicomte is a man of +iron disposition, with the courage of a lion, of probity +which I call almost fabulous. He had scarcely any +property of his own, and had married the vicomte's +mother for love. She was a young person of good +fortune, possessing about a million of francs, at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +melting of which we have had the honour to be present." +And M. Boyer bowed. Edwards imitated him.</p> + +<p>"The marriage was a very happy one, until the +moment when the father of M. le Vicomte found—accidentally, +as they say—some letters, which proved +that, during one of his absences three or four years +after his marriage, his wife had had an attachment for +a certain Polish count."</p> + +<p>"That often happens to these Poles. When I was +at the Marquis de Senneval's, the marquise, a regular +she-devil—"</p> + +<p>"My dear Edwards," interrupted M. Boyer, "you +should learn the alliances of our great families before +you speak, or you will sadly blunder."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Madame la Marquise de Senneval is sister of M. le +Duc de Montbrison, into whose establishment you wish +to enter."</p> + +<p>"Ah, the devil!"</p> + +<p>"Judge of the effect if you had spoken thus of her +before tattling people! You would not have remained +in the house twenty-four hours."</p> + +<p>"True, Boyer; I must endeavour to 'get up' my +peerage."</p> + +<p>"I resume. The father of M. le Vicomte discovered, +after twelve or fifteen years of a marriage very happy +until then, that he had this Polish count to complain of. +Fortunately, or unfortunately, M. le Vicomte was born +nine months after his father, or rather M. le Comte de +Saint-Remy, had returned from this unpropitious journey, +so that he could not be certain, in spite of the greatest +probabilities, whether or not M. le Vicomte could fairly +charge him with paternity. However, the comte separated +instantly from his wife, would not touch a stiver +of the fortune she had brought him, and returned into +the country with about eighty thousand francs which he +possessed of his own. But you have yet to learn the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +rancour of this diabolical character. Although the outrage +had been perpetrated fifteen years when he detected +it, the father of M. le Vicomte, accompanied by M. de +Fermont, one of his relatives, sought out this Polonese +seducer, and found him at Venice, after having sought +for him during eighteen months in every city in Europe."</p> + +<p>"What determination!"</p> + +<p>"A demon's rancour, I say, my dear Edwards! At +Venice there was a ferocious duel, in which the Pole +was killed. All passed off honourably; but they tell +me that, when the father of M. le Vicomte saw the +Pole fall at his feet mortally wounded, he exhibited such +ferocious joy that his relative, M. de Fermont, was +obliged to take him away from the place of combat; +the comte wishing, as he declared, to see his enemy die +before his eyes."</p> + +<p>"What a man! What a man!"</p> + +<p>"The comte returned to Paris, saw his wife, told her +he had killed the Pole, and went back into the country. +Since that time he never saw her or her son, and resided +at Angers, where he lived, as they say, like a regular old +wolf, with what was left of his eighty thousand francs, +which had been sweated down not a little, as you may +suppose, by his chase after the Pole. At Angers he saw +no one, unless it were the wife and daughter of his +relative, M. de Fermont, who has been dead some years +now. Besides, it was an unfortunate family, for the +brother of Madame de Fermont blew his brains out +some months ago."</p> + +<p>"And the mother of M. le Vicomte?"</p> + +<p>"He lost her a long time ago; that's the reason that, +when he attained his majority, M. le Vicomte came into +his mother's fortune. So, you see, my dear Edwards, +that, as to inheritance, the vicomte has nothing, or +almost less than nothing, to expect from his father."</p> + +<p>"Who, moreover, detests him."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="image168" id="image168"></a> +<img src="images/i168.jpg" width="500" height="326" alt="He exhibited such ferocious joy. +Original Etching by Mercier." title="He exhibited such ferocious joy." /> +<span class="caption"><i>He exhibited such ferocious joy.</i><br /> +<span class="artist">Original Etching by Mercier.</span></span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He never would see him after the discovery in question, +being fully persuaded, no doubt, that he is the son +of the Pole."</p> + +<p>The conversation of these two personages was interrupted +by a gigantic footman, elaborately powdered, +although it was scarcely eleven o'clock.</p> + +<p>"M. Boyer, M. le Vicomte has rung his bell twice," +said the giant.</p> + +<p>Boyer appeared immensely distressed at having apparently +been inattentive to his duty, rose hastily, and followed +the footman with as much haste and respect as +if he had not been himself, in his proper person, the +proprietor of his master's house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<h5>THE COMTE DE SAINT-REMY.</h5> + + +<p>It was about two hours after Boyer had left Edwards +to go to M. de Saint-Remy, when the father of the latter +knocked at the door of the house in the Rue de Chaillot.</p> + +<p>M. de Saint-Remy, senior, was a tall man, still active +and vigorous in spite of his age. The extreme darkness +of his complexion contrasted singularly with the peculiar +whiteness of his beard and hair; his thick eyebrows +still remained black, and half covered his piercing eyes +deeply sunk in his head. Although from a kind of misanthropic +feeling he wore clothes which were extremely +shabby, yet there was in his entire appearance something +so calm and dignified as to inspire general respect.</p> + +<p>The door of his son's house opened, and he went in.</p> + +<p>A porter in dress livery of brown and silver, with his +hair carefully powdered, and dressed in silk stockings, +appeared on the threshold of an elegant lodge, which +resembled the smoky cave of the Pipelets as much as +does the tub of a stocking-darner the splendid shop of a +fashionable dressmaker.</p> + +<p>"M. de Saint-Remy?" said the comte, in an abrupt +tone.</p> + +<p>The porter, instead of replying, scrutinised with impertinent +curiosity the white beard, the threadbare frock coat, +and the napless hat of the unknown, who held a stout +cane in his hand.</p> + +<p>"M. de Saint-Remy?" again said the comte, impatiently, +and much irritated at the insolent demeanour of +the porter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>"M. le Vicomte is not at home."</p> + +<p>So saying, the co-mate of M. Pipelet opened the door, +and, with a significant gesture, invited the unknown to +retire.</p> + +<p>"I will wait for him," said the comte, and he moved +forward.</p> + +<p>"Holloa! Come, I say, my friend, that's not the way +people enter other people's houses!" exclaimed the +porter, running after the comte, and taking him by +the arm.</p> + +<p>"What, fellow!" replied the old man, with a threatening +air, and lifting his cane, "dare you to lay your +hands on me?"</p> + +<p>"I dare do more than that if you do not be off +quickly. I tell you the vicomte is not within; so now +go away, will you?"</p> + +<p>At this moment Boyer, attracted by the sound of +contending voices, appeared on the steps which led +to the house.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this noise?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"M. Boyer, it is this man, who will go into the house, +although I have told him that M. le Vicomte is not +within."</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue!" said the comte. And then +addressing Boyer, who had come towards them, "I +wish to see my son. He is out, and therefore I will +wait for him."</p> + +<p>We have already said that Boyer was neither ignorant +of the existence nor the misanthropy of his master's +father; and being, moreover, a physiognomist, he did +not for a moment doubt the comte's identity, but, bowing +respectfully, replied:</p> + +<p>"If M. le Comte will follow me, I will conduct him—"</p> + +<p>"Very well!" said M. de Saint-Remy, who followed +Boyer, to the extreme amazement of the porter.</p> + +<p>Preceded by the <i>valet de chambre</i>, the comte reached +the first story, and followed his guide across the small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +sitting-room of Florestan de Saint-Remy (we shall in +future call the viscount by his baptismal name to distinguish +him more easily from his father) until they +reached a small antechamber communicating with the +sitting-room, and sitting immediately over the boudoir +on the ground floor.</p> + +<p>"M. le Vicomte was obliged to go out this morning," +said Boyer. "If M. le Comte will be so kind as to wait +a little for him, he will not be long before he comes in." +And the <i>valet de chambre</i> quitted the apartment.</p> + +<p>Left alone, the count looked about him with entire +indifference; but suddenly he started, his face became +animated, his cheeks grew purple, and anger agitated +his features. His eyes had lighted on the portrait of +his wife, the mother of Florestan de Saint-Remy! He +folded his arms across his breast, bowed his head, as if +to escape this sight, and strode rapidly up and down the +room.</p> + +<p>"This is strange!" he said. "That woman is dead—I +killed her lover—and yet my wound is as deep, as +sensitive, as the first day I received it; my thirst of +vengeance is not yet quenched; my savage misanthropy, +which has all but entirely isolated me from the world, +has left me alone, and in constant contemplation of the +thought of my injury. Yes; for the death of the accomplice +of this infamy has avenged the outrage, but not +effaced its memory from my remembrance. Oh, yes! I +feel that what renders my hatred inextinguishable is the +thought that, for fifteen years, I was a dupe; that for +fifteen years I treated with respect and esteem a wretched +woman who had infamously betrayed me; that I have +loved her son—the son of crime—as if he had indeed +been my own child; for the aversion with which Florestan +now inspires me proves but too clearly that he is the +offspring of adultery! And yet I have not the absolute +conviction of his illegitimacy: it is just possible that he +is still my child! And sometimes that thought is agony<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +to me! If he were indeed my son! Then my abandonment +of him, the coldness I have always testified towards +him, my constant refusals to see him, are unpardonable. +But, after all, he is rich, young, happy; and of what use +should I be to him? Yes; but then, perchance, his tenderness +might have soothed the bitter anguish which his +mother has caused me!"</p> + +<p>After a moment of deep reflection the comte shrugged +his shoulders and continued:</p> + +<p>"Still these foolish suppositions, weak as useless, which +revive all my suffering! Let me be a man, and overcome +the absurd and painful emotion which I experience when +I think that I am again about to see him whom, for ten +years, I have loved with the most mad idolatry,—whom +I have loved as my son; he—he—the son of the man +whose blood I saw flow with such intense joy! And they +would not let me be present at his last agony,—at his +death! Ah, they know not what it was to have been +stricken as deeply as I was! Then, too, to think that +my name—always honoured and respected—should +have been so often mentioned with scoff and derision, as +is always mentioned that of a wronged husband! To +think that my name—a name of which I had always +been so proud—should now belong to a man whose +father's heart I could have plucked out! Ah, I only +wonder I do not go mad when I think of it!"</p> + +<p>M. de Saint-Remy continued walking up and down in +great agitation, and mechanically lifted up the curtain +which separated the apartment in which he was from +Florestan's private sitting-room, and advanced several +strides into that chamber.</p> + +<p>He had disappeared for the moment, when a small +door hidden in the hangings of the wall opened softly, +and Madame de Lucenay, wrapped in a large green cashmere +shawl, having a very plain black velvet bonnet on, +entered the salon, which the comte had but that instant +quitted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is necessary to offer some explanation of this unexpected +visit.</p> + +<p>Florestan de Saint-Remy on the previous evening made +an appointment with the duchess for the next morning. +She having, as we have said, a key of the little gate in +the narrow lane, had, as usual, entered by the conservatory, +relying on finding Florestan on the ground floor +boudoir; but, not finding him there, she believed (as had +before occurred) that the vicomte was engaged in his +cabinet.</p> + +<p>A secret staircase led from the boudoir to the story +above. Madame de Lucenay went up without hesitation, +supposing that M. de Saint-Remy had given orders, as +usual, to be denied to everybody. Unluckily, a threatening +call from M. Badinot had compelled Florestan to go +out hastily, and he had forgotten his rendezvous with +Madame de Lucenay. She, not seeing any person, was +about to enter the cabinet, when the curtain was thrown +on one side, and the duchess found herself confronted +with Florestan's father.</p> + +<p>She could not repress a shriek.</p> + +<p>"Clotilde!" exclaimed the comte, greatly astonished.</p> + +<p>Intimately acquainted with the Prince de Noirmont, +father of Madame de Lucenay, M. de Saint-Remy had +known her from her childhood, and, during her girlhood, +calling her, as he now did, by her baptismal name. The +duchess, motionless with surprise, continued gazing on +the old man with his white beard and mean attire, whose +features she could not recall to mind.</p> + +<p>"You, Clotilde!" repeated the comte, in an accent +of painful reproach; "you here, in my son's house!"</p> + +<p>These last words confirmed the vague reminiscence +of Madame de Lucenay, who then recognised Florestan's +father, and said:</p> + +<p>"M. de Saint-Remy?"</p> + +<p>The position was so plain and declaratory that the +duchess, whose peculiar and resolute character is known<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +to the reader, disdained to have recourse to falsehood, +in order to account for her appearance there; and, +relying on the really paternal affection which the comte +had always testified for her, she said to him, with that +air at once graceful, cordial, and decided, which was so +peculiarly her own:</p> + +<p>"Come, now, do not scold; you are my old, very old +friend. Recollect you called me your dear little Clotilde +at least twenty years ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I called you so then; but—"</p> + +<p>"I know beforehand all you would say: you know my +motto, 'What is, is what will be.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clotilde!"</p> + +<p>"Spare your reproaches, and let me rather express +my extreme delight at seeing you again: your presence +reminds me of so many things,—my poor dear father, +in the first place, and then—heigho! my 'sweet fifteen!' +Oh, how delightful it is to be fifteen!"</p> + +<p>"It is because your father was my friend that—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said the duchess, interrupting M. de Saint-Remy, +"he was so very fond of you! You remember he +always called you the man with the green ribands, and +you always told him, 'You spoil Clotilde; mind, I tell +you so;' and he replied, whilst he kissed me, 'I really +do believe I spoil her, and I must make all haste and +double my spoiling, for very soon the world will deprive +me of her to spoil her in their turn.' Dear father! What +a friend I lost!" and a tear started to the lovely eyes +of Madame de Lucenay; then, extending her hand to +M. de Saint-Remy, she said, in a faltering voice, "But +indeed, in truth, I am happy, very happy, to see you +again, you call up such precious remembrances,—memories +so dear to my heart!"</p> + +<p>The comte, although he had long been acquainted +with her original and decisive disposition, was really +amazed at the ease with which Clotilde reconciled herself +to her exceedingly delicate position, which was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +other than to meet her lover's father in her lover's +house.</p> + +<p>"If you have been in Paris for any time," continued +Madame de Lucenay, "it is very naughty of you not to +have come and seen me before this; for we should have +had such long talks over the past; for you must know +that I have reached an age when there is an excessive +pleasure in saying to old friends, 'Don't you +remember!'"</p> + +<p>Assuredly the duchess could not have discoursed with +more confirmed tranquillity if she were receiving a +morning visit at the Hôtel de Lucenay. M. de Saint-Remy +could not prevent himself from saying with +severity:</p> + +<p>"Instead of talking of the past, it would be more fitting +to discourse of the present. My son is expected +every instant, and—"</p> + +<p>"No," said Clotilde, interrupting him, "I have the +key of the little door of the conservatory, and his arrival +is always announced by a ring of the bell when he +returns by the principal entrance; and at that sound I +shall disappear as mysteriously as I arrived, and will +leave you to all your pleasure, at again seeing Florestan. +What a delightful surprise you will give him! For it is +so long since you forsook him. Really, now I think of +it, it is I who have to reproach you."</p> + +<p>"Me? Reproach me?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly. What guide, what aid had he, when he +entered on the world? whilst there are a thousand +things for which a father's counsels are indispensable. +So, really and truly, it is very wrong of you—"</p> + +<p>Here Madame de Lucenay, yielding to the whimsicality +of her character, could not help laughing most +heartily, and saying to the comte:</p> + +<p>"It must be owned that our position is at least an odd +one, and that it is very funny that it should be I who +am sermonising you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, it does seem very strange to me, I assure you; +but I deserve neither your sermons nor your praises. I +have come to my son's house, but not for my son's sake. +At his age, he has not, or has no longer, any need of my +advice."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You ought to know the reason for which I hold +the world, and Paris, especially, in such horror," said +the comte, with a painful and distressing expression; +"and you may therefore believe that nothing but circumstances +of the utmost importance could have induced +me to leave Angers and have come hither—to this +house. But I have been forced to overcome my repugnance, +and have recourse to everybody who could aid or +help me in a search which is most interesting to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then," said Madame de Lucenay, with affectionate +eagerness, "I beg you will make use of me; +dispose of me in any way in which I can be useful to +you. Do you want any interest? Because De Lucenay +must have some degree of influence; for, the days when +I go to dine with my great-aunt, De Montbrison, he entertains +the deputies; and men don't do that without some +motives; and the trouble ought to be recompensed by +some contingent advantages, such as a certain amount of +influence over persons, who, in their turn, have a great +deal of interest. So, I repeat, if we can assist you, rely +on us. Then there is my cousin, the young Duke de +Montbrison, who, being a peer himself, is connected with +all the young peers. If he can do anything, why, I am +sure you have but to command him. In a word, dispose +of me and mine. You know whether or not I deserve +the title of a warm and devoted friend!"</p> + +<p>"I know it well, and do not refuse your aid, although—"</p> + +<p>"Come, my dear Alcestis, we know how the world +wags, and let us act as if we did. Whether we are here +or elsewhere, it is of little consequence, I imagine, as to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +the affair which interests you, and which now interests +me very much because it is yours. Let us then talk of +it, and tell me all I request of you."</p> + +<p>So saying, the duchess approached the fireplace, leaned +on the mantelpiece, and placed on the fender one of the +prettiest feet in the world, which were, at the moment, +somewhat chilled. With perfect tact Madame de Lucenay +seized the opportunity of saying no more about the +vicomte, and of engaging M. de Saint-Remy to talk of a +subject to which he attached such great importance. +Clotilde's conduct would have been very different in +the presence of his mother, and to her she would have +avowed with pleasure and pride how long he had been +so dear to, so beloved by, her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>In spite of his strictness and surliness, M. de Saint-Remy +yielded to the influence of the cavalier and cordial +demeanour of this lady, whom he had seen and loved +when a child, and he almost forgot that he was talking +to the mistress of his son. Besides, how could he resist +the contagion of example, while the subject of a position +which was inexpressibly embarrassing did not seem disturbed, +or even think she ought to be disturbed, by +the difficulty of the situation in which she unexpectedly +found herself?</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you do not know, Clotilde," said the comte, +"that I have been living at Angers for a very long +time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it."</p> + +<p>"In spite of the solitude I sought, I had selected that +city because one of my relations lived there,—M. de +Fermont,—who, after the heavy blow that had smitten +me, behaved to me like a brother. After having accompanied +me to almost every city in Europe, where I hoped +to meet with the man I desired to slay, he served me for +second in the duel—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that terrible duel; my father told me all concerning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +it!" answered the duchess, in a sad tone of +voice. "But, fortunately, Florestan is ignorant of that +duel, as well as the cause that led to it."</p> + +<p>"I wished to let him still respect his mother," replied +the comte, stifling a sigh. He then continued: "Some +years afterwards, M. de Fermont died at Angers in my +arms, leaving a daughter and a wife, whom, in spite of +my misanthropy, I was obliged to love, because nothing +in the world could be more pure, more noble, than these +two excellent creatures. I lived alone in a remote +quarter of the city; but when my fits of black melancholy +gave me some respite, I went to Madame de +Fermont to talk with her and her daughter of him we +had both lost. As whilst he was alive, so still I came +to soothe and calm myself in that gentle friendship in +whose bosom I had henceforth concentrated all my +affections. The brother of Madame de Fermont dwelt +in Paris, and managed all his sister's affairs after her +husband's decease. He had placed about a hundred +thousand crowns (12,000<i>l.</i>), which was all the widow's +fortune, with a notary.</p> + +<p>"After some time another and fearful shock affected +Madame de Fermont. Her brother, M. de Renneville, +killed himself about eight months ago. I did all in my +power to comfort her. Her first sorrow somewhat +abated, she went to Paris to arrange her affairs. After +some time I learned that, by her orders, they were selling +off the furniture she had in her small abode at +Angers, and that the money was applied to the payment +of a few little debts she had left there. This disturbed +me, and, on inquiry, I learned that this unhappy lady +and her daughter were in dire distress,—the victims, +no doubt, of a bankruptcy. If Madame de Fermont +could, in such straits, rely on any one, it was on me, +and yet I never received any information or application +from her. It was when I lost this acquaintance that +was so delightful to me that I felt all its value. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +cannot imagine my suffering and my uneasiness after +the departure of Madame de Fermont and her daughter. +Their father—husband—had been a brother to me, +and I was resolved, therefore, to find them again, to +learn how it was they had not addressed me in their +ruin, poor as I was; and therefore I set out, leaving at +Angers a person who, if anything was learned, would +inform me instantly of the news."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday a letter from Angers reached me,—they +know nothing. When I reached Paris I began my +researches. I went first to the old servant of Madame +de Fermont's brother; then they told me she lived on +the Quai of the Canal St. Martin."</p> + +<p>"Well, that address—"</p> + +<p>"Had been theirs; but they had moved, and where +to was not known. Unfortunately, up to the present +time, my researches have been useless. After a thousand +vain attempts before I utterly despaired, I resolved +to come here. Perhaps Madame de Fermont, who, from +some inexplicable motive, has not asked from me aid or +assistance, may have had recourse to my son as to the +son of her husband's best friend. No doubt this hope +has but very slight foundation; but I will not neglect +any chance that may enable me to discover the poor +woman and her child."</p> + +<p>The Duchess de Lucenay, who had been listening to +the comte with the utmost attention, said, suddenly:</p> + +<p>"Really it would be very singular if these should be +the same persons in whom Madame d'Harville takes so +much interest."</p> + +<p>"What persons?" inquired the comte.</p> + +<p>"The widow of whom you speak is still young, is she +not?—her face very striking?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Her daughter, as lovely as an angel, and about sixteen +at most?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, yes."</p> + +<p>"And her name is Claire?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, for mercy's sake, say, where are they?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! I know not."</p> + +<p>"You know not?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you all I know. A lady of my acquaintance, +Madame d'Harville, came to me to inquire whether +or not I knew a widow lady whose daughter was named +Claire, and whose brother had committed suicide. Madame +d'Harville inquired of me because she had seen +these words, 'Write to Madame de Lucenay,' written at +the bottom of a rough sketch of a letter which this +unfortunate lady was writing to some stranger of whom +she was asking assistance."</p> + +<p>"She wished to write to you; and wherefore to you?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot solve your question."</p> + +<p>"But she knew you, it would seem," said M. de Saint-Remy, +struck with a sudden idea.</p> + +<p>"What mean you?"</p> + +<p>"She had heard me speak of your father a hundred +times, as well as of you and your generous and excellent +heart. In her misfortune, it occurred to her to address +you."</p> + +<p>"That really does explain this."</p> + +<p>"And Madame d'Harville—tell me, how did she get +this sketch of a letter into her possession?"</p> + +<p>"That I do not know; all I can say is, that, without +knowing whither this poor mother and child had +gone for refuge, she was, I believe, on the trace of +them."</p> + +<p>"Then I rely on you, Clotilde, to introduce me to +Madame d'Harville. I must see her this very day."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! Her husband has just been the victim +of a most afflicting accident: a pistol which he did not +know to be loaded went off in his hands, and he was +killed on the spot."</p> + +<p>"How horrible!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The marquise went instantly to pass the first months +of her mourning with her father in Normandy."</p> + +<p>"Clotilde, I beseech you, write to her to-day; ask her +for all the information in her power, and, as she takes +an interest in these poor women, say she cannot find a +warmer auxiliary than myself; that my only desire is to +find the widow of my friend, and share with her and her +daughter the little I possess. They are now all my +family."</p> + +<p>"Ever the same, always generous and devoted! Rely +on me. I will write to-day to Madame d'Harville. +Where shall I address my answer?"</p> + +<p>"To Asnières <i>Poste-Restante</i>."</p> + +<p>"How odd! Why do you live there, and not in +Paris?"</p> + +<p>"I detest Paris, because of the recollections it excites +in me!" said M. de Saint-Remy, with a gloomy air. +"My old physician, Doctor Griffon, with whom I have +kept up a correspondence, has a small house on the +banks of the Seine, near Asnières, which he does not +occupy in the winter; he offered it to me; it is almost +close to Paris, and there I could be undisturbed, and +find the solitude I desire. So I accepted it."</p> + +<p>"I will then write to you at Asnières, and I can give +you some information which may be useful to you, and +which I had from Madame d'Harville. Madame de Fermont's +ruin has been occasioned by the roguery of the +notary in whose hands all your deceased relative's fortune +was deposited. The notary denied that the money +was ever placed in his hands."</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel! And his name?"</p> + +<p>"M. Jacques Ferrand," replied the duchess, without +being able to conceal her inclination to laugh.</p> + +<p>"How strange you are, Clotilde!" said the comte, +surprised and annoyed; "nothing can be more serious, +more sad than this, and yet you laugh."</p> + +<p>In fact, Madame de Lucenay, at the recollection of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +amorous declaration of the notary, had been unable to +repress her hilarity.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, my dear sir," she replied, "but this +notary is such a singular being, and they tell such odd +stories about him; but, in truth, if his reputation as an +honest man is not more deserved than his reputation as +a religious man (and I declare that is hypocrisy) he is a +great wretch."</p> + +<p>"And he lives—"</p> + +<p>"Rue du Sentier."</p> + +<p>"I will call upon him. What you tell me confirms +certain other suspicions."</p> + +<p>"What suspicions?"</p> + +<p>"From certain information as to the death of the brother +of my poor friend, I should be almost tempted to believe +that that unhappy man, instead of committing suicide, +had been the victim of assassination."</p> + +<p>"And what can make you suppose that?"</p> + +<p>"Several reasons, which would be too long to detail to +you now. I will leave you. Do not forget the promises +of service which you have made me in your own and +your husband's name."</p> + +<p>"What, will you go without seeing Florestan?"</p> + +<p>"You may suppose how painful this interview would +be to me. I would brave it only in the hope of finding +some information as to Madame de Fermont, being unwilling +to neglect anything to discover her. Now, then, +adieu!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are pitiless!"</p> + +<p>"Do you not know?"</p> + +<p>"I know that your son was never in greater need of +your advice."</p> + +<p>"What, is he not rich—happy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he is ignorant of mankind. Blindly extravagant, +because he is generous and confiding in everything, +and everywhere and always free and noble, I fear +people take advantage of his liberality. If you but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +knew the nobleness of his heart! I have never dared +to preach to him on the subject of his expenditure and +want of care: in the first place, because I am as inconsiderate +as himself, and next, in the second place, for +other reasons; whilst you, on the contrary—"</p> + +<p>Madame de Lucenay could not finish. The voice of +Florestan de Saint-Remy was heard. He entered hastily +into the cabinet next to the room in which they were, +and, after having shut the door suddenly, he said, in a +broken voice, to some one who accompanied him:</p> + +<p>"But it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"I tell you again," replied the clear and sharp voice +of M. Badinot, "I tell you again that, if not, why, in four +hours you will be apprehended; for, if he has not the +cash forthwith, our man will lodge his complaint with +the king's attorney-general; and you know the result of +a forgery like this,—the galleys, the galleys, my poor +dear vicomte!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<h5>THE INTERVIEW.</h5> + + +<p>It is impossible to paint the look which Madame de +Lucenay and the father of Florestan exchanged at these +terrible words,—"The galleys, the galleys, my poor dear +vicomte!" The comte became deadly pale, and leant +on the back of an armchair, whilst his knees seemed to +sink beneath him. His venerable and respected name,—his +name dishonoured by the man whom he accused of +being the fruit of adultery!</p> + +<p>The first feeling over, the contracted features of the +old man, a threatening gesture which he made as he +advanced towards the adjoining apartment, betrayed a +resolution so alarming that Madame de Lucenay seized +his hand, and said, in an accent of the most perfect +conviction:</p> + +<p>"He is innocent; I will swear it. Listen in silence."</p> + +<p>The comte paused. He wished to believe what the +duchess said to him, and she was entirely persuaded of +Florestan's untarnished honour. To obtain fresh sacrifices +from this woman, so blindly generous,—sacrifices +which alone could save him from arrest,—and the prosecution +of Jacques Ferrand, the vicomte had affirmed to +Madame de Lucenay that, duped by a scoundrel from +whom he had taken a forged bill in exchange, he ran the +risk of being considered as the forger's accomplice, as +having himself put this bill into circulation. Madame de +Lucenay knew that the vicomte was imprudent, extravagant, +reckless; but she never for an instant supposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +him capable, not only of a base or an infamous action, +but even of the slightest indiscretion. Twice lending him +considerable sums under very trying circumstances, she +had wished to render him a friendly service, the vicomte +expressly accepting these loans under the condition that +he should return them; for there were persons, he said, +who owed him double that amount; and his style of +living made it seem probable.</p> + +<p>Besides, Madame de Lucenay, yielding to the impulse +of her natural kindness, had only thought of how she +could be useful to Florestan, without ever reflecting as to +whether or not he would ever return the sums thus +advanced. He said so, and she did not doubt him; for, +otherwise, would he have accepted such large amounts? +When, then, she thus answered for Florestan's honour, +entreating the old comte to listen to his son's conversation, +the duchess thought that it was a question of the +breach of honour of which the vicomte had declared +himself the victim, and that he must stand forth completely +exonerated in the eyes of his father.</p> + +<p>"Again I declare," continued Florestan, in a troubled +voice, "this Petit-Jean is a scamp; he assured me that +he had no other bills in his hands but those which I received +from him yesterday and three days previously. I +believed this one was still in circulation, and only due +three months hence, in London, at the house of Adams +and Company."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said the sarcastic voice of Badinot, "I +know, my dear vicomte, that you had managed the affair +very cleverly, so that your forgeries would not be detected +until you were a long way off; but you tried to +'do' those who were more cunning than yourself."</p> + +<p>"And you dare to say that to me, now, rogue as you +are," exclaimed Florestan, furious with anger, "when +was it not you yourself who brought me into contact +with the person who negotiated these bills?"</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear aristocrat," replied Badinot, coolly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +"be cool! You very skilfully counterfeit commercial +signatures; but, although they are so adroitly done, that +is no reason why you should treat your friends with disagreeable +familiarity; and, if you give way to unseemly +fits of temper, I shall leave you, and then you may +arrange this matter by yourself."</p> + +<p>"And do you think it possible for a man to be calm +in such a position as that in which I find myself? If +what you say be true, if this charge be to-day preferred +at the office of the attorney-general, I am lost!"</p> + +<p>"It is really as I tell you, unless you have again recourse +to your charming, blue-eyed Providence."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Then make up your mind to the worst. It is a pity; +it was the last bill; and for five and twenty thousand +miserable francs (1,000<i>l.</i>) to go and take the air at +Toulon is awkward, absurd, foolish! How could a +clever fellow like you allow yourself to be thus taken +aback?"</p> + +<p>"What can I do? What can I do? Nothing here +is my own, and I have not twenty louis in the world +left."</p> + +<p>"Your friends?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I am in debt to every one who could lend me. +Do you think else that I am such a fool as to have waited +until to-day before I applied to them?"</p> + +<p>"True; but, come, let us discuss the matter quietly; +that is the best way of arriving at a reasonable conclusion. +Just now, I wish to explain to you how you had +been met by a party more clever than yourself, but you +did not attend to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me now, if that will do any good."</p> + +<p>"Let us recapitulate. You said to me two months +since, 'I have bills on different banking-houses, at long +dates, for a hundred and thirteen thousand francs +(4,520<i>l.</i>), and, my dear Badinot, I wish you to find +me the means of cashing them.'"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, and then—"</p> + +<p>"Listen: I asked you to let me see these bills; a +certain something made me suspect that they were +forged, although so admirably done. I did not suspect, +it is true, that you were so expert in calligraphy; but, +employing myself in looking after your fortune when +you had no longer any fortune to look after, I found +you were completely done up! I had arranged the deed +by which your horses, your carriages, and the furniture +of this house became the property of Boyer and Edwards. +Thus, then, there was no wonder at my astonishment +when I found you in possession of commercial securities +to such a considerable amount, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind your astonishment, but come to the +point."</p> + +<p>"I am close upon it. I have enough experience or +timidity not to be very anxious to mix myself up with +affairs of this nature; I therefore advised you to consult +a third party, who, no less clear-sighted than myself, +suspected the trick you desired to play him."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! He would not have discounted the +bills if he had believed them forged."</p> + +<p>"How much money down did you get for these +hundred and thirteen thousand francs?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five thousand francs in ready money, and +the rest in small debts to collect."</p> + +<p>"And how much of these small debts did you +collect?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, as you very well know; they were fictitious; +but still he risked twenty-five thousand francs."</p> + +<p>"How green you are, my dear vicomte! Having my +commission of a hundred louis to receive of you if the +affair came off, I took very good care not to say a word +to No. 3 as to the real state of your affairs. Thus he +believed you entirely at your ease, and he, moreover, +knew how you were adored by a certain great lady, +immensely rich, who would not allow you to be left in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +any difficulties, and thus he was quite sure of recovering +at least as much as he advanced. He ran a risk, certainly, +of losing something, but he also ran a chance +of gaining very considerably; and his calculation was +correct, for, the other day, you counted out to him a +hundred thousand francs, good and sound, in order to +retire the bill for fifty-eight thousand francs; and, +yesterday, thirty thousand francs for the second; for +that he contented himself, it is true, with the actual +amount. How you raised these thirty thousand francs +yesterday, devil fetch me, if I can guess! But you are +a wonderful fellow! You see, now, that, to wind up +the account, if Petit-Jean forces you to pay the last bill +of twenty-five thousand francs, he will have received +from you a hundred and fifty-five thousand francs for +the twenty-five thousand which he originally handed to +you. So I was quite right when I said that you had +met with a person even more clever than yourself."</p> + +<p>"But why did he say that this last bill which he +presents to-day was negotiated?"</p> + +<p>"That you might not take the alarm, he told you also +that, except that of fifty-eight thousand francs, the others +were in circulation; the first being paid, yesterday comes +the second, and to-day the third."</p> + +<p>"Scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"Listen: every one for himself; but let us talk +coolly. This must prove to you that Petit-Jean (and, +between ourselves, I should not be astonished to find +out that, in spite of his sanctity, Jacques Ferrand went +snacks in the speculation), this must prove, I say, that +Petit-Jean, led on by your first payments, speculates on +this last bill, as he has speculated on the others, quite +certain that your friends will not allow you to be handed +over to a court of assizes. It is for you to see whether +or not these friendships are yet drained dry, or if there +are yet a few more drops to be squeezed out; for if, in +three hours, the twenty-five thousand francs are not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +forthcoming, noble vicomte, you will be in the 'Stone +Jug.'"</p> + +<p>"Which you keep saying to me—"</p> + +<p>"In order that you may thoroughly comprehend me, +and agree, perhaps, to try and draw another feather +from the wing of this generous duchess."</p> + +<p>"I repeat, it is useless to think of such a thing. Any +hope of finding twenty-five thousand francs in three +hours, after the sacrifices she has already made, would +be madness to expect."</p> + +<p>"To please you, happy mortal, impossibilities would +be attempted!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she has already tried impossibilities; for it was +one to borrow a hundred thousand francs from her husband, +and to succeed; but such phenomena are not expected +twice in a lifetime. Now, my dear Badinot, up +to this time you have had no cause to complain of me. +I have always been generous. Try and obtain some +delay from this wretch, Petit-Jean. You know very +well I always find a way of recompensing those who +serve me; and when once this last affair is got over +I will try again, and you shall be satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Petit-Jean is as inflexible as you are unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"I!"</p> + +<p>"Try once more to interest your generous friend in +your sad fate. Devil take it! Why not tell her plump +all about it; not, as you have already, that you have +been the dupe of forgers, but that you are a forger +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I will never make to her any such confession; it +would be to shame myself for no advantage."</p> + +<p>"Do you prefer, then, that she should learn the fact +to-morrow by the <i>Gazette des Tribunaux</i>."</p> + +<p>"I have three hours before me, and can fly."</p> + +<p>"Where can you go without money? But look at +the other side of the matter. This last forged bill +retired, you will be again in a splendid position; you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +will only have a few debts. Come, promise me that +you will again speak to your duchess. You are such +a fellow for the women! You know how to make yourself +interesting in spite of your errors; and, let the +worst come to the worst, they will like you a little the +worse, or not at all; but they will extricate you from +your mess. Come, come, see your lovely and loving +friend once more. I will run to Petit-Jean, and I feel +sure I shall get a respite of an hour or two."</p> + +<p>"Hell! Must I, then, drink the draught of shame to +the very dregs?"</p> + +<p>"Come, come, good luck; be tender, passionate, +charming. I will run to Petit-Jean; you will find me +there until three o'clock; later than that will be useless; +the attorney-general's office closes at four o'clock." +And M. Badinot left the apartment.</p> + +<p>When the door was closed, they heard Florestan +exclaim in accents of the deepest despair: "<i>Mon +Dieu! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!</i>"</p> + +<p>During this conversation, which unveiled to the +comte the infamy of his son, and to Madame de +Lucenay the infamy of the man she had so blindly +loved, both had remained motionless, scarcely breathing, +beneath this fearful disclosure. It would be impossible +to depict the mute eloquence of the agonising +scene which took place between this young lady and the +comte when he had no longer any possible doubt as to +Florestan's crime. Extending his arms to the room in +which his son was, the old man smiled with bitterest sarcasm, +casting an overwhelming look on Madame de Lucenay, +which seemed to say, "And this is the man for whom +you have braved all shame,—made every sacrifice! This +is he whom you have reproached me for abandoning?"</p> + +<p>The duchess understood the reproach, and, bowing +her head, she felt all the weight of her shame. The +lesson was terrible. By degrees, however, a haughty +indignation succeeded to the cruel anxiety which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +contracted the features of Madame de Lucenay. The +inexcusable faults of this lady were at least palliated by +the sincerity and disinterestedness of her love, by the +boldness of her devotion and the boundlessness of her +generosity, by the frankness of her character, and by +her inexorable aversion from all that was contemptible +and base.</p> + +<p>Still too young, too handsome, too <i>recherché</i>, to feel +the humiliation of having been merely made a tool of, +when once the feeling of love was suddenly crushed +within her, this haughty and decided woman felt no +longer hatred or anger, but instantaneously, and without +any transition, a deadly disgust, an icy disdain, at once +destroyed all that affection hitherto so strong. She was +no longer the mistress, unworthily deceived by her lover, +but the lady of high blood and rank detecting a man of +her circle to be a swindler and a forger, and driving him +forth. Supposing that there were even some extenuating +circumstances for the ignominy of Florestan, Madame de +Lucenay would not have admitted them; for, in her estimation, +the man who crossed certain bounds of honour, +whether from vice, weakness, or persuasion, no longer +had an existence in her eyes, honourable demeanour +being with her a question of existence or non-existence. +The only painful feeling which the duchess experienced +was excited by the terrible effect which this unexpected +revelation produced on her old friend, the comte.</p> + +<p>For some moments he seemed neither to see nor hear; +his eyes were fixed, his head bowed, his arms hanging +by his side, his face livid as death; whilst from time to +time a convulsive sigh heaved his breast. With such a +man, as resolute as energetic, such a condition was more +alarming than the most violent transports of anger. Madame +de Lucenay regarded him with great uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Courage, my dear friend," she said to him, in a low +voice, "for you,—for me,—for this man,—I know +what remains for me to do."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old man looked steadfastly at her, and then, as +if aroused from his stupor by a violent internal commotion, +he raised his head, his features assumed a menacing +appearance, and, forgetting that his son could hear +him, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"And I, too, for you,—for me,—and for this man,—I +know what remains for me to do."</p> + +<p>"Who is there?" inquired Florestan, surprised.</p> + +<p>Madame de Lucenay, fearing to find herself in the +vicomte's presence, disappeared by the little door, and +descended the secret staircase. Florestan having again +asked who was there, and receiving no reply, entered +the salon. He found the comte there alone. The old +man's long beard had so greatly altered him, and he +was so miserably clad, that his son, who had not seen +him for several years, not recognising him at the +moment, advanced towards him with a menacing air.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing there? Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"The husband of that woman!" replied the comte, +pointing to the picture of Madame de Saint-Remy.</p> + +<p>"My father!" exclaimed Florestan, recoiling in +alarm, as he recalled the features of the comte, so +long forgotten.</p> + +<p>Standing erect, with threatening air, angry look, his +forehead scarlet, the comte looked down upon his son, +who, with his head bent down, dared not raise his eyes +towards him. Still, M. de Saint-Remy, for some motive, +made a violent effort to remain calm, and conceal his +real feelings and resentment.</p> + +<p>"My father!" said Florestan, half choked. "You +were there?"</p> + +<p>"I was there."</p> + +<p>"You heard, then?"</p> + +<p>"All!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried the vicomte, in agony, and hiding his +face in his hands.</p> + +<p>There was a minute's silence. Florestan, at first as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +much astonished as annoyed at the unexpected appearance +of his father, began to reflect upon what advantage +he could derive from this incident.</p> + +<p>"All is not lost," he said to himself; "my father's +presence is a stroke of fate. He knows all; he will not +have his name dishonoured. He is not rich, but he +must possess more than twenty-five thousand francs. +A little skill, and I may leave my duchess at peace, +and be saved!" Then, giving to his handsome features +an expression of grief and dejection, moistening his eye +with the tears of repentance, assuming his most touching +tone of voice, he exclaimed, clasping his hands with a +gesture of despair:</p> + +<p>"Ah, father, I am indeed wretched! After so many +years,—to see you—at such a moment! I must appear +to you most culpable; but deign to listen to me! I +beseech you, allow me, not to justify myself, but to +explain to you my conduct! Will you, my father?"</p> + +<p>M. de Saint-Remy made no reply; his features +remained rigid; but, seating himself, his chin leaning +on the palm of his hand, he contemplated the vicomte in +silence. Had Florestan known the motives which filled +the mind of his father with fury and vengeance, alarmed +by the apparent composure of the comte, he would not, +doubtless, have tried to dupe him. But, ignorant of the +suspicions respecting the legitimacy of his birth, and of +his mother's lapse of virtue, he had no doubt of the success +of his deceit, thinking his father, who was very +proud of his name, was capable of making any sacrifice +rather than allow it to be dishonoured.</p> + +<p>"My father," resumed Florestan, timidly, "allow me +to endeavour, not to exculpate myself, but to tell you by +what a series of involuntary temptations I have done, in +spite of myself,—such—an infamous action."</p> + +<p>The vicomte took his father's silence for tacit consent, +and continued:</p> + +<p>"When I had the misfortune to lose my mother—my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +poor mother!—I was alone, without advice or support. +Master of a considerable fortune, used to luxury from +my cradle, it became to me a necessity. Ignorant how +difficult it is to earn money, I was immeasurably prodigal. +Unfortunately, my expenses, foolish as they were, +were remarkable for their elegance. By my taste, I +eclipsed men ten times richer than myself. This first +success intoxicated me, and I became a man of extravagance, +as one becomes a man of arms, or a statesman. +Yes, I liked luxury, not from vulgar ostentation, but I +liked it as a painter loves his art. Like every artist, +I was jealous of my work, and my work was to me luxury. +I sacrificed everything to its perfection. I wished +to have it beautiful and complete in everything, from my +stable to my drawing-room, from my coat to my house. +I wished my life to be the emblem of taste and elegance. +In fact, as an artist, I sought the applause of the mob +and the admiration of the élite. This success is rare, +but I acquired it."</p> + +<p>As he spake, Florestan's features gradually lost their +hypocritical assumption, and his eyes kindled with enthusiasm. +He looked in his father's face, and, thinking it +was somewhat softened, continued:</p> + +<p>"Oracle and regulator of the world, my praise or +blame were law: I was quoted, copied, boasted of, +admired, and that by the best circle in Paris, which +is to say in Europe—in the world. The women participated +in the general enthusiasm, and the loveliest contended +for the pleasure of being invited to certain fêtes +which I gave, and everywhere wonder was expressed at +the incomparable elegance and taste displayed at these +fêtes, which millionaires could not equal. In fine, I was +the monarch of fashion. This word will tell you all, my +father, if you comprehend it."</p> + +<p>"I do comprehend it, and I am sure that at the +galleys you will invent some refined elegance in your +fashion of wearing your chain that will become the mode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +in your gang, and will be called <i>à la</i> Saint-Remy," said +the old man, with cutting irony, adding, "and Saint-Remy,—that +is my name!" And again he was silent.</p> + +<p>Florestan had need of all his self-control to conceal +the wound which this bitter sarcasm inflicted. He +continued in a more humble tone:</p> + +<p>"Alas! Father, it is not from pride that I revive the +recollection of my success, for, I repeat to you, it is that +success which has undone me. Sought, envied, and flattered, +not by interested parasites, but by persons much +superior in position to myself, I no longer calculated my +fortune must be expended in a few years; that I did not +heed. Could I renounce this favourite, dazzling life, in +which pleasures succeeded pleasures, every kind of intoxication +to every kind of enchantment? Ah, if you knew, +father, what it is to be hailed as the hero of the day, +to hear the murmur which greets your entrance into the +salon, to hear the women say, 'That is he! There he +is!'—oh, if you knew—"</p> + +<p>"I know," said the old man, without moving from his +attitude,—"I know. Yes, the other day, in a public +place, there was a crowd; suddenly a murmur was +heard, like that which greets you when you enter some +place; then the women's eyes were all turned eagerly +on a very handsome young man, just as they are turned +towards you, and they pointed him out to one another, +saying, 'That's he! There he is!' just as if they were +directing attention to you."</p> + +<p>"And this man, my father?"</p> + +<p>"Was a forger they were conveying to gaol."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Florestan, with concentrated rage. +Then affecting the deepest affliction, he added, "My +father, you are pitiless,—what shall I then say to you? +I do not seek to deny my errors, I only desire to explain +to you the fatal infatuation which has caused them. +Well, then, even if you should overwhelm me still with +your bitterest sarcasms, I will endeavour to go through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +with this confession,—I will endeavour to make you +comprehend this feverish excitement which has destroyed +me, because then, perchance, you may pity me,—yes, for +there is pity for a madman, and I was mad! Shutting +my eyes, I abandoned myself to the dazzling whirl into +which I was drawn, and drew with me the most charming +women, the most delightful men. How could I check +myself? As easily say to the poet who exhausts himself, +and whose genius preys upon his health, 'Pause in +the midst of the inspiration which urges you!' No! +He could not—I could not, abdicate the royalty which +I exercised, and return shamed, ruined, and mocked at, +into the unknown mob, giving this triumph to those who +envied me, and whom, until then, I had defied, controlled, +overpowered! No! No! I could not, voluntarily, at +least.</p> + +<p>"Then came the fatal day, when, for the first time, +money failed me. I was surprised as much as if such a +moment never could have arrived. Yet I had still my +horses, my carriages, the furniture of this house. When +my debts were paid there would, perhaps, still remain to +me about sixty thousand francs. What could I do in +such misery? It was then, father, that I made my first +step in the path of disgrace; until this time I was honourable,—I +had only spent what belonged to me, but +then I began to incur debts which I had no chance of +paying. I sold all I had to two of my domestics in order +to pay my debt to them, and to be enabled to continue +for six months longer, in spite of my creditors, to enjoy +the luxury which intoxicated me.</p> + +<p>"To supply my play debts and extravagant outlay I first +borrowed of the Jews, then, to pay the Jews, of my +friends, then, to pay my friends, of my mistresses. +These resources exhausted, there was another period of +my life; from an honest man I became a gambler, but, +as yet, I was not criminal—I still hesitated—I desired +to take a violent resolution. I had proved in several<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +duels that I did not fear death. I determined to kill +myself!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! Bah! Really?" said the comte, with fierce +irony.</p> + +<p>"You do not believe me, father?"</p> + +<p>"It was too soon or too late!" replied the old man, +still unmoved, and in the same attitude.</p> + +<p>Florestan, believing that he had moved his father by +speaking to him of his project for committing suicide, +thought it necessary to increase the effect by a <i>coup de +théâtre</i>. He opened a drawer, took from it a small +bottle of greenish glass, and said to the comte, depositing +it on the table:</p> + +<p>"An Italian quack sold me this poison."</p> + +<p>"And was this poison for yourself?" said the old +man, still having his chin in the palm of his hand.</p> + +<p>Florestan understood the force of the remark, his +features expressed real indignation; for this time he +spoke the truth. One day he took it into his head to kill +himself,—an ephemeral fancy! Persons of his stamp +are usually too cowardly to make up their minds calmly, +and without witnesses, to the death which they face as a +point of honour in a duel. He therefore exclaimed, with +an accent of truth:</p> + +<p>"I have fallen very low, but not so low as that. It +was for myself that I reserved this poison."</p> + +<p>"And then were afraid of it?" asked the comte, without +changing his posture.</p> + +<p>"I confess I recoiled before this trying extremity,—nothing +was yet desperate. The persons to whom I owed +money were rich and could wait. At my age, and with +my connections, I hoped for a moment, if not to repair +my fortunes, at least to acquire for myself an honourable +position, an independence which would have supplied my +present situation. Many of my friends, perhaps less +qualified than myself, had made rapid progress in diplomacy. +I had ambition. I had but to make it known, +and I was attached to the legation to Gerolstein. Unfortunately, +a few days after this nomination, a gaming +debt, contracted with a man who detested me, placed me +in a cruel dilemma. I had exhausted my last resources. +A fatal idea flashed across my mind. Believing that I +was assured of impunity, I committed an infamous action. +You see, my father, I conceal nothing from you. I avow +the ignominy of my conduct,—I do not seek to extenuate +anything. Two alternatives are now before me, and I am +equally inclined to either. The one is to kill myself, and +leave your name dishonoured; for if I do not pay this +very day the twenty-five thousand francs, the accusation +is made, and all is made public, and, dead or alive, I am +disgraced. The second is to throw myself into your arms, +father, to say to you, 'Save your son,—save your name +from infamy;' and I swear to you to depart for Africa +to-morrow, and die a soldier's death, or return to you +completely restored in reputation. What I say to you, +father, is true,—in face of the extremity which overwhelms +me, I have no other resource. Decide: shall I +die covered with shame, or, thanks to you, live to repair +my fault? These are not the threats of a young man. +I am twenty-five; I bear your name, and I have sufficient +courage either to kill myself, or to become a soldier; for +I will not go to the galleys."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;"><a name="image199" id="image199"></a> +<img src="images/i199.jpg" width="320" height="500" alt="Was about to embrace his father. +Etching by Marcel after the drawing by Frank T. Merrill." title="Was about to embrace his father." /> +<span class="caption"><i>Was about to embrace his father.</i><br /> +<span class="artist">Etching by Marcel after the drawing by Frank T. Merrill.</span></span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>The comte rose from his seat, saying:</p> + +<p>"I do not desire to have my name dishonoured."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my father!" exclaimed the vicomte, with +warmth, and was about to embrace his father, when +the old man, repressing his enthusiasm, said:</p> + +<p>"You are expected until three o'clock at the man's +house who has the forged bill?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, and it is now two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Let us go into your cabinet; give me writing materials."</p> + +<p>"They are here, father."</p> + +<p>The comte sat down and wrote, with a firm hand:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indent">"I undertake to pay this evening, at ten o'clock, the twenty-five +thousand francs which my son owes.</p> + +<p class="sigs">"<span class="smcap">Comte de Saint-Remy</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Your creditor merely wants his money; my guarantee +will obtain a further delay. Let him go to M. +Dupont, the banker, at No. 7 in the Rue Richelieu, and +he will assure him of the validity of this promise."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my father! How can I ever—"</p> + +<p>"Expect me this evening; at ten o'clock I will bring +the money. Let your creditor be here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, and the day after I will set out for +Africa. You shall see that I am not ungrateful! Then, +perhaps, when I am again restored to honour you will +accept my thanks?"</p> + +<p>"You owe me nothing. I have said that my name +shall not be dishonoured again; nor shall it be," said +M. de Saint-Remy, in reply, taking up his cane, and +moving towards the door.</p> + +<p>"My father, at least shake hands with me!" said +Florestan.</p> + +<p>"Here this evening at ten o'clock," said the comte, +refusing his hand.</p> + +<p>"Saved!" exclaimed Florestan, joyously,—"saved!" +Then he continued, after a moment's reflection: "Saved—almost—no +matter—it is always so. Perhaps this +evening I shall tell him of the other thing. He is in the +vein, and will not allow a first sacrifice to become useless +for lack of a second. Yet why should I tell him? +Who will ever know it? Yet, if nothing should be discovered, +I shall keep the money he will give me to pay +this last debt. I had some work to move him. The +bitterness of his sarcasms made me suspicious of his good +resolution; but my threat of suicide, the fear of seeing +his name dishonoured, decided him. That was the way +to hit him. No doubt he is not so poor as he appears to +be. But his arrival was indeed a godsend. Now, then, +for the man of law!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>He rang the bell, and M. Boyer appeared.</p> + +<p>"How was it that you did not inform me that my +father was here? Really, this is most negligent."</p> + +<p>"Twice I endeavoured to address your lordship when +you came in by the garden gate with M. Badinot, but +your lordship made me a sign with your hand not to +interrupt you. I did not venture to insist. I should be +very much grieved if your lordship should impute negligence +to me."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Desire Edwards to harness Orion or +Ploughboy in the cabriolet immediately."</p> + +<p>M. Boyer made a respectful bow. As he was about +to quit the room, some one knocked. He looked at the +vicomte with an inquiring air.</p> + +<p>"Come in!" said Florestan.</p> + +<p>A second <i>valet de chambre</i> appeared, bearing in his +hand a small silver-gilt waiter. M. Boyer took hold +of the waiter with a kind of jealous haste, and presented +it to the vicomte, who took from it a thick packet, +sealed with black wax.</p> + +<p>The two servants withdrew discreetly.</p> + +<p>Florestan broke open the envelope. It contained +twenty-five thousand francs in treasury bills, but not a +word of writing.</p> + +<p>"Decidedly," he exclaimed, in a joyful tone, "the day +is propitious! Saved this time, and at this moment +completely saved! I will run to the jeweller; and yet," +he added, "perhaps—no—let us wait—he cannot +have any suspicion of me. Twenty-five thousand francs +is a pleasant sum to have by one! <i>Pardieu!</i> I was a +fool ever to doubt the luck of my star; at the moment +when it seemed most obscure, has it not burst forth +more brilliant than ever? But where does this money +come from? The writing of the address is unknown to +me. Let me examine the seal,—the cipher. Yes, yes, +I cannot mistake; an N and an L,—it is Clotilde! +How could she know? And not a word,—that's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +strange! How very opportune, though! Ah, <i>mon +Dieu!</i> now I remember. I had an appointment with +her this morning. That Badinot's threats drove it out +of my head. I forgot Clotilde. After having waited for +me down-stairs, no doubt she went away; and this is, +unquestionably, a delicate way of making me understand +that she fears I may forget her through some pecuniary +embarrassment. Yes, it is an indirect reproach that I +have not applied to her as usual. Good Clotilde! Always +the same,—generous as a queen! What a pity I +was ever driven to ask her,—her still so handsome! +I sometimes regret it, but I only did it in a direful +extremity, and on sheer compulsion."</p> + +<p>"Your lordship's cabriolet is at the door," said M. +Boyer, on entering the room.</p> + +<p>"Who brought this letter?" Florestan inquired.</p> + +<p>"I do not know, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will ask below. But tell me, was there no +one in the ground floor?" asked the vicomte, looking +significantly at Boyer.</p> + +<p>"There is no one there now, my lord."</p> + +<p>"I was not mistaken," thought Florestan; "Clotilde +waited for me, and is now gone."</p> + +<p>"If your lordship would have the goodness to grant +me two minutes," said Boyer.</p> + +<p>"Speak, but be quick!"</p> + +<p>"Edwards and myself have learnt that the Duc de +Montbrison is desirous of forming an establishment. If +your lordship would but just be so kind to propose your +own ready furnished, with the stable in first-rate order, +it would be a most admirable opportunity for Edwards +and myself to get the whole off our hands, and, perhaps, +for your lordship a good reason for disposing of them."</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardieu!</i> Boyer, you are right. As for me, I should +prefer such an arrangement. I will see Montbrison, and +speak to him. What are your terms?"</p> + +<p>"Your lordship will easily understand that we are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +desirous of profiting as much as possible by your generosity."</p> + +<p>"And turn your bargain to the best advantage? Nothing +can be plainer! Let us see,—what's the price?"</p> + +<p>"The whole, two hundred and sixty thousand francs +(10,400<i>l.</i>), my lord."</p> + +<p>"And you and Edwards will thus clear—"</p> + +<p>"About forty thousand francs (1,600<i>l.</i>), my lord."</p> + +<p>"A very nice sum! But so much the better, for, +after all, I am very much satisfied with you, and, if I +had to make my will, I should have bequeathed that +sum to you and Edwards."</p> + +<p>And the vicomte went out, first to call on his creditor, +then on Madame de Lucenay, whom he did not suspect +of having been present at his conversation with Badinot.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<h5>THE SEARCH.</h5> + + +<p>The Hôtel de Lucenay was one of those royal residences +of the Faubourg St. Germain, which the space +employed, and, as it were, lost, make so vast. A +modern house might, with ease, be contained in the +limits devoted to the staircase of one of these palaces, +and a whole quarter might be built in the extent they +occupy.</p> + +<p>About nine o'clock in the evening of this day the two +vast folding-doors of this hôtel opened on the arrival of +a magnificent chariot, which, after having taken a dashing +turn in the spacious courtyard, stopped before the +large covered flight of steps which led to the first antechamber. +Whilst the hoofs of two powerful and high-couraged +horses sounded on the echoing pavement, a +gigantic footman opened the door, emblazoned with +armorial bearings, and a young man alighted gracefully +from this brilliant carriage, and no less gracefully +walked up the five or six steps of the entrance. This +young man was the Vicomte de Saint-Remy.</p> + +<p>On leaving his creditor, who, satisfied with the undertaking +of Florestan's father, had granted the required +delay, and was to come and receive his money at ten +o'clock in the Rue de Chaillot, M. de Saint-Remy had +gone to Madame de Lucenay's, to thank her for the +fresh service she had rendered him, and, not having +seen the duchess during the morning, he came triumphant, +certain of finding her in <i>prima sera</i>, the hour +which she constantly reserved for him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<p>By the attention of the footmen in the antechamber, +who hastened to open the glass door as soon as they +saw Florestan's carriage, by the profoundly respectful +air with which the rest of the livery all rose as the +vicomte passed by, and by certain, yet almost imperceptible +touches, it was evident that here was the second, +or, rather, the real master of the house.</p> + +<p>When the Duc de Lucenay returned home, with his +umbrella in his hand and his feet protected by clumsy +goloshes (he hated going out in a carriage in the daytime), +the same domestic evolutions were gone through +with similar respect; still, in the eyes of a keen observer, +there was a vast difference between the reception +accorded to the husband and that reserved for the lover.</p> + +<p>A corresponding attention displayed itself in the footman's +waiting-room when Florestan entered it, and one +of the valets instantly arose to announce him to Madame +de Lucenay.</p> + +<p>The vicomte had never been more joyous, never felt +himself more at his ease, more confident of himself, +more assured of conquest. The victory he had obtained +over his father in the morning, the fresh proof of attachment +on the part of Madame de Lucenay, the joy at +having escaped, as it were, by a miracle, from a terrible +situation, his renewed confidence in his star, gave his +handsome features an expression of boldness and good +humour which rendered it still more captivating.</p> + +<p>In fact, he had never felt himself more himself. And +he was right. Never had his slender and graceful figure +displayed a finer carriage, never had his look been more +elevated, never had his pride been more deliciously +tickled by the thought, "The great lady—the mistress +of this palace is mine—is at my feet! This very +morning she waited for me in my own house!"</p> + +<p>Florestan had given way to these excessively vain-glorious +reflections as he traversed three or four apartments, +which led to a small room in which the duchess<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +usually sat. A last look at himself in a glass which he +passed completed the excellent opinion which Florestan +had of himself. The <i>valet de chambre</i> opened the folding-doors +of the salon, and announced, "Monsieur the +Vicomte de Saint-Remy!"</p> + +<p>It is impossible to paint the astonishment and indignation +of the duchess. She believed the comte had not +concealed from his son that she also had overheard all.</p> + +<p>We have already said that, on discovering Florestan's +infamy, Madame de Lucenay's love, suddenly quenched, +had changed into the most frigid disdain. We have also +said that, in the midst of her errors, her frailties, Madame +de Lucenay had preserved pure and intact her +feelings of rectitude, honour, and chivalric frankness, +whose strength and requirements were excessively strong. +She possessed the better qualities of her faults, the +virtues of her vices.</p> + +<p>Treating love as cavalierly as a man treats it, she +pushed as far, nay, further, than a man, devotion, generosity, +courage, and, above all, intense horror of all +baseness. Madame de Lucenay, being about to go to +a party in the evening, was, although without her +diamonds, dressed with her accustomed taste and magnificence; +and her splendid costume, the rouge she wore +without attempt at concealment, like a court lady, up to +her eyelids, her beauty, which was especially brilliant at +candle-light, her figure of a goddess walking in the +clouds, rendered still more striking that noble air which +no one displayed to greater advantage than she did, and +which she carried, if requisite, to a height of insolence +that was overwhelming.</p> + +<p>We know the haughty and resolute disposition of the +duchess, and we may imagine her physiognomy, her +look, when the vicomte, advancing towards her, conceited, +smiling, confident, said, in a tone of love:</p> + +<p>"Dearest Clotilde, how good you are! How you—"</p> + +<p>The vicomte could not finish. The duchess was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +seated, and had not risen; but her gesture, her glance, +betokened contempt, at once so calm and crushing that +Florestan stopped short. He could not utter another +word, nor advance another step. He had never before +seen Madame de Lucenay under this aspect. He could +not believe that it was the same woman, whom he had +always found gentle, tender, and passionately submissive; +for nothing is more humble, more timid, than a +determined woman in the presence of the man whom +she loves and who controls her.</p> + +<p>His first surprise past, Florestan was ashamed of his +weakness; his habitual audacity resumed its ascendency, +and, making a step towards Madame de Lucenay in order +to take her hand, he said, in his most insinuating tone:</p> + +<p>"Clotilde, what ails you? I never saw you look so +lovely, and yet—"</p> + +<p>"Really, this is too impudent!" exclaimed the +duchess, recoiling with such disgust and hauteur that +Florestan was again overcome with surprise.</p> + +<p>Resuming some assurance, he said to her:</p> + +<p>"Will you, at least, Clotilde, tell me the cause of this +change, sudden, singular as it is? What have I done? +How have I offended?"</p> + +<p>Without making any reply, Madame de Lucenay +looked at him, as is vulgarly said, from head to foot, +with so insulting an expression that Florestan felt red +with the anger which displayed itself upon his brow, and +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I am aware, madame, that it is thus you habitually +break off. Is it a rupture that you now desire?"</p> + +<p>"The question is singular!" said Madame de Lucenay, +with a sarcastic laugh. "Learn, sir, that when a lackey +robs me, I do not break with him, I turn him away."</p> + +<p>"Madame!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a truce to this!" said the duchess, in a stern +and peremptory tone. "Your presence disgusts me! +Why are you here? Have you not had your money?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is true, then, as I guessed, the twenty-five thousand +francs—"</p> + +<p>"Your last forgery is withdrawn, is it not? The +honour of your family's name is saved,—that is well,—go!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! believe me—"</p> + +<p>"I very much regret that money, for it might have +succoured so many honest families; but it was necessary +to think of the shame to your father and to +myself."</p> + +<p>"So then, Clotilde, you know all? Ah, then, now +nothing is left me but to die!" exclaimed Florestan, +in a most pathetic and despairing tone.</p> + +<p>A burst of derisive laughter from the duchess hailed +this tragic exclamation, and she added, between two fits +of fresh hilarity:</p> + +<p>"I could never have believed infamy could appear so +ridiculous!"</p> + +<p>"Madame!" cried Florestan, his features contracted +with rage.</p> + +<p>The two folding-doors opened with a loud noise, and +M. le Duc de Montbrison was announced.</p> + +<p>In spite of his self-command, Florestan could scarcely +repress the violence of his resentment, which any man +more observing than the duke must certainly have +perceived.</p> + +<p>M. de Montbrison was scarcely eighteen years of age. +Let our readers imagine a most engaging countenance, +like that of a young girl, white and red, whose vermilion +lips and downy chin were slightly shaded by a nascent +beard. Let them add to this large brown eyes, as yet +timid, but which in time would gleam like a falcon's, a +figure as graceful as that of the duchess herself, and +then, perhaps, they may have some idea of this young +duke, the Cherubino as complete in idea as ever countess +or waiting-maid decked in a woman's cap, after having +remarked the ivory whiteness of his neck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>The vicomte had the weakness or the audacity to +remain.</p> + +<p>"How kind of you, Conrad, to think of me this +evening!" said Madame de Lucenay, in a most affectionate +voice, and extending her hand to the young +duke, who was about to shake hands with his cousin, +but Clotilde raised her hand a little, and said to him +gaily:</p> + +<p>"Kiss it, cousin,—you have your gloves on."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, my dear cousin," said the young man, +as he applied his lips to the naked and charming hand +that was offered to him.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do this evening, Conrad?" +inquired Madame de Lucenay, without seeming to take +the slightest notice in the world of Florestan.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, cousin; when I leave you, I shall go to the +club."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you shall not; you shall accompany us, M. de +Lucenay and me, to Madame de Senneval's; she gives a +party, and has frequently asked me to introduce you to +her."</p> + +<p>"I shall be but too happy."</p> + +<p>"Then, too, I must tell you frankly that I don't like +to see you begin so early with your habits and tastes for +clubs. You are possessed of everything necessary in +order to be everywhere welcomed, and even sought after, +in the world, and you ought, therefore, to mix with it as +much as possible."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are right, cousin."</p> + +<p>"And as I am on the footing of a grandmother with +you, my dear Conrad, I am determined to exact a great +deal from you. You are emancipated, it is true, but I +believe you will want a guardian for a long time to come, +and you must, therefore, consider me in that light."</p> + +<p>"Most joyfully, happily, cousin!" said the young duke, +emphatically.</p> + +<p>It is impossible to describe the mute rage of Florestan,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +who was standing up, and leaning with his elbow on the +mantelpiece. Neither the duke nor Clotilde paid the +slightest attention to him. Knowing the rapidity with +which Madame de Lucenay decided, he imagined she was +pushing her boldness and contempt so far as to commence +at once, and in his presence, a regular flirtation +with the Duc de Montbrison.</p> + +<p>It was not so. The duchess felt for her cousin +nothing beyond a truly maternal affection, having +almost seen him born. But the young duke was so +handsome, and seemed so happy at the agreeable +reception of his cousin, that the jealousy, or, rather, +pride of Florestan was aroused. His heart writhed +beneath the cruel wounds of envy, excited by Conrad +de Montbrison, who, rich and handsome, was beginning +so splendidly that life of pleasures, enjoyments, and +fêtes, from which he, ruined, undone, despised, dishonoured, +was expelled.</p> + +<p>M. de Saint-Remy was brave with that bravery of the +head, if we may so call it, which will urge a man, by +anger or by vanity, to face a duel. But, vitiated and +corrupted, he had not the courage of the heart which +triumphs over bad inclinations, or which, at least, gives +the energy which enables a man to escape infamy by a +voluntary death. Furious at the bitter contempt of the +duchess, believing he saw a successor in the young duke, +M. de Saint-Remy resolved to confront Madame de +Lucenay with all insolence, and, if need were, to seek a +quarrel with Conrad.</p> + +<p>The duchess, irritated at Florestan's audacity, did not +look towards him, and M. de Montbrison, in his anxious +attention to his cousin, forgetting something of his high +breeding, had not saluted or spoken a word to the +vicomte, with whom he was acquainted. The latter, +advancing to Conrad, whose back was towards him, +touched his arm lightly, and said, in a dry and ironical +tone:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good evening, sir; a thousand pardons for not +having observed you before."</p> + +<p>M. de Montbrison, perceiving that he had really failed +in politeness, turned around instantly, and said cordially +to the vicomte:</p> + +<p>"Really, sir, I am ashamed; but I hope that my +cousin, who caused my forgetfulness, will be my excuse, +and—"</p> + +<p>"Conrad," interposed the duchess, immeasurably +annoyed at Florestan's impudence, persisting as he +did in remaining, as it were, to brave her,—"Conrad, +that will do; make no apologies; it is not worth while."</p> + +<p>M. de Montbrison, believing that his cousin was +reproaching him in joke for being somewhat too +formal, said, in a gay tone, to the vicomte, who was +livid with rage:</p> + +<p>"I will not say more, sir, since my cousin forbids me. +You see her guardianship has begun."</p> + +<p>"And will not stop when it begins, my dear sir, be +assured of that. Thus, with this notice (which Madame +la Duchesse will hasten to fulfil, I have no doubt)—with +this notice, I say, I have it in my mind to make you a +proposal."</p> + +<p>"To me, sir?" said Conrad, beginning to take offence +at the sardonic tone of Florestan.</p> + +<p>"To you yourself. I leave in a few days for the +legation to Gerolstein, to which I am attached. I wish, +therefore, to get my house, completely furnished, and my +stable, entirely arranged, off my hands; and you might +find it a suitable arrangement;" and the vicomte insolently +emphasised his last words, looking Madame de +Lucenay full in the face. "It would be very piquant, +would it not, Madame la Duchesse?"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, sir," said M. de Montbrison, +more and more astonished.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you, Conrad, why you cannot accept the +offer that is made you," said Clotilde.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And why, Madame la Duchesse, cannot the duke +accept my offer?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Conrad, what is offered you for sale is +already sold to others. So, you understand, you would +have the inconvenience of being robbed just as if you +were in a wood."</p> + +<p>Florestan bit his lips with rage.</p> + +<p>"Take care, madame!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"What, threats! and here, sir?" exclaimed Conrad.</p> + +<p>"Pooh, pooh! Conrad, pay no attention," said +Madame de Lucenay, taking a lozenge from a sweetmeat +box with the utmost composure; "a man of +honour ought not and cannot have any future communication +with that person. If he likes, I will tell +you why."</p> + +<p>A tremendous explosion would no doubt have +occurred, when the two folding-doors again opened, +and the Duc de Lucenay entered, noisily, violently, +hurriedly, as was "his usual custom in the afternoon," +as well as the forenoon.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear! What, dressed already?" said he to +his wife. "Why, how surprising! Quite astonishing! +Good evening, Saint-Remy; good evening, Conrad. +Ah, you see the most miserable of men; that is to +say, I neither sleep nor eat, but am completely 'done +up.' Can't reconcile myself to it. Poor D'Harville, +what an event!" And M. de Lucenay threw himself +back in a sort of small sofa with two backs, and, crossing +his left knee over his right, took his foot in his +hand, whilst he continued to utter the most distressing +exclamations.</p> + +<p>The excitement of Conrad and Florestan had +time to calm down, without being perceived by M. de +Lucenay, who was the least clear-sighted man in the +world.</p> + +<p>Madame de Lucenay, not from embarrassment, for +she was never embarrassed, as we know, but because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +Florestan's presence was as disgusting as it was insupportable, +said to the duke:</p> + +<p>"We are ready to go as soon as you please. I am +going to introduce Conrad to Madame de Senneval."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" cried the duke, letting go his foot to +seize one of the cushions, on which he struck violently +with his two fists, to the great alarm of Clotilde, who, +at the sudden cries of her husband, started from her +chair.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, what ails you?" she inquired; "you +frighten me exceedingly."</p> + +<p>"No," replied the duke, thrusting the cushion from +him, rising suddenly, and walking up and down with +rapid strides and gesticulations, "I cannot get over the +idea of the death of poor dear D'Harville; can you, +Saint-Remy?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it was a frightful event!" said the vicomte, +who, with hatred and rage in his heart, kept his eye on +M. de Montbrison; but this latter, after the last words +of his cousin, turned away from a man so deeply +degraded, not from want of feeling, but from pride.</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake, my lord," said the duchess to +her husband, "do not regret the loss of M. d'Harville in +so noisy and really so singular a manner. Ring, if you +please for my carriage."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is really true," said M. de Lucenay, seizing +the bell-rope, "really true that, three days ago, he was +full of life and health, and, to-day, what remains of +him? Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!"</p> + +<p>These three last exclamations were accompanied by +three such violent pulls that the bell-rope, which the +duke held in his hand whilst he was gesticulating, broke +away from the upper spring, fell on a candelabra filled +with lighted wax candles, knocked two of them out of +the sconces, one of which, falling on the mantelpiece, +broke a lovely little cup of old Sèvres china; whilst the +other, falling on the ground, rolled on a fur hearth rug,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +which took flame, but was soon extinguished under +Conrad's foot.</p> + +<p>At the same moment, two <i>valets de chambre</i>, summoned +by the furious ringing, entered hastily, and found +M. de Lucenay with the bell-rope in his hand, the +duchess laughing heartily at this ridiculous fall of the +wax lights, and M. de Montbrison sharing her mirth. +M. de Saint-Remy alone did not laugh. M. de Lucenay, +quite accustomed to such accidents, preserved his usual +seriousness, and, throwing the bell-rope to one of the +men, said:</p> + +<p>"The duchess's carriage."</p> + +<p>Clotilde, having somewhat recovered her composure, +said:</p> + +<p>"Really, my lord, there is no man in the world but +yourself capable of exciting laughter at so lamentable an +event."</p> + +<p>"Lamentable! Say fearful. Why, now, only yesterday, +I was recollecting how many persons in my own +family I would rather should have died than poor +D'Harville. First, there's my nephew, D'Emberval, +who stutters so annoyingly; then there's your Aunt +Mérinville, who is always talking about her nerves +and her headache, and who always gobbles up every +day, whilst she is waiting for dinner, a mess of broth +like a porter's wife. Are you very fond of your Aunt +Mérinville?"</p> + +<p>"Really, my lord, have you lost your wits?" said the +duchess, shrugging her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It's true enough, though," continued the duke; +"one would give twenty indifferent persons for one +friend; eh, Saint-Remy?"</p> + +<p>"Unquestionably."</p> + +<p>"It is the old story of the tailor over again. Do you +know it, Conrad,—the story of the tailor?"</p> + +<p>"No, cousin."</p> + +<p>"You will understand the allegory at once. A tailor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +was going to be hanged; he was the only tailor in the +village. What were the inhabitants to do? They said +to the judge, 'Please your judgeship, we have only one +tailor, and we have three shoemakers; if it is all the +same to you, please to hang one of the three shoemakers +in the place of the tailor, for two shoemakers are +enough.' Do you understand the allegory, Conrad?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, cousin."</p> + +<p>"And you, Saint-Remy?"</p> + +<p>"Quite."</p> + +<p>"Her grace's carriage!" said one of the servants.</p> + +<p>"But, I say, why haven't you put on your diamonds?" +asked M. de Lucenay, abruptly; "with that dress they +would look remarkably well."</p> + +<p>Saint-Remy shuddered.</p> + +<p>"For the one poor time we are going out together," +continued the duke, "you might have done us the honour +to wear your diamonds. The duchess's diamonds +are particularly fine. Did you ever see them, Saint-Remy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he knows them well enough!" said Clotilde; +and then she added, "Your arm, Conrad."</p> + +<p>M. de Lucenay followed the duchess with Saint-Remy, +who could scarcely repress his anger.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you coming with us to the Sennevals, Saint-Remy?" +inquired M. de Lucenay.</p> + +<p>"No, impossible," he replied, briefly.</p> + +<p>"By the way, Saint-Remy, there's Madame de Senneval, +too,—what, do I say one? There's two—whom I +would willingly sacrifice, for her husband is also on +my list."</p> + +<p>"What list?"</p> + +<p>"That of the people whom I should not have cared to +see die, provided D'Harville had been left to us."</p> + +<p>At the moment when they were in the anteroom, and +M. de Montbrison was helping the duchess on with her +mantle, M. de Lucenay, addressing his cousin, said to him:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Since you are coming with us, Conrad, desire your +carriage to follow ours; unless you will decide on coming, +Saint-Remy, and then you shall take me, and I will +tell you another story quite as good as that of the +tailor."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Saint-Remy, dryly, "I cannot +accompany you."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, good night, my dear fellow. Have you +and my wife quarrelled, for she is getting into her +carriage without saying a word to you?"</p> + +<p>And at this moment, the duchess's berline having +drawn up at the steps, she entered it.</p> + +<p>"Now, cousin," said Conrad, waiting for M. de +Lucenay with an air of deference.</p> + +<p>"Get in! Get in!" said the duke, who had stopped +a moment, and, from the door, was contemplating the +elegant equipage of the vicomte. "Are those your +grays, Saint-Remy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And your jolly-looking Edwards! He's what I call +a right sort of coachman. How well he has his horses +in hand! To do justice, there is no one who, like Saint-Remy, +does things in such devilish high style!"</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, Madame de Lucenay and your +cousin are waiting for you," said M. de Saint-Remy, +with bitterness.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardieu!</i> and that's true. What a forgetful rascal +I am! <i>Au revoir</i>, Saint-Remy. Ah, I forgot," said +the duke, stopping half way down the steps, "if you +have nothing better to do, come and dine with us to-morrow. +Lord Dudley has sent us some grouse from +Scotland, and they are out-of-the-way things, you know. +You'll come, won't you?" And the duke sprang into +the carriage which contained his wife and Conrad.</p> + +<p>Saint-Remy remained alone on the steps, and saw the +carriage drive away. His own then drove up. He got +into it, casting on that house which he had so often<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +entered as master, and which now he so ignominiously +quitted, a look of anger, hatred, and despair.</p> + +<p>"Home!" he said, abruptly.</p> + +<p>"To the hôtel!" said the footman to Edwards, as he +closed the door.</p> + +<p>We may imagine how bitter and desolating were +Saint-Remy's thoughts as he returned to his house. At +the moment when he reached it, Boyer, who awaited +him at the portico, said to him:</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte is above, and waits for M. le Vicomte."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"And there is also a man whom your lordship +appointed at ten o'clock,—a M. Petit-Jean."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Oh, what an evening party!" said +Florestan, as he went up-stairs to see his father, whom +he found in the salon on the first floor, the same room +in which their meeting of the morning had taken place. +"A thousand pardons, my father, that I was not awaiting +you when you arrived; but I—"</p> + +<p>"Is the man here who holds the forged bill?" inquired +the comte, interrupting his son.</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, he is below."</p> + +<p>"Desire him to come up."</p> + +<p>Florestan rang, and Boyer appeared.</p> + +<p>"Desire M. Petit-Jean to come up."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord," and Boyer withdrew.</p> + +<p>"How good you are, father, to remember your kind +promise!"</p> + +<p>"I always remember what I promise."</p> + +<p>"What gratitude do I owe you! How can I ever +prove to you—"</p> + +<p>"I will not have my name dishonoured! It shall not +be!"</p> + +<p>"It shall not be! No, it shall never be, I swear to +you, my father!"</p> + +<p>The comte looked strangely at his son, and repeated:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, it shall never be!" Then he added, with a +sarcastic air, "You are a prophet."</p> + +<p>"I read my resolution in my heart."</p> + +<p>Florestan's father made no rejoinder. He walked up +and down the room with his two hands thrust into the +pockets of his long coat. He was very pale.</p> + +<p>"M. Petit-Jean," said Boyer, introducing a man of a +mean, sordid, and crafty look.</p> + +<p>"Where is the bill?" inquired the comte.</p> + +<p>"Here it is, sir," said Petit-Jean (Jacques Ferrand +the notary's man of straw), handing the bill to the +comte.</p> + +<p>"Is this it?" said the latter, showing the bill to his +son.</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>The comte took from his waistcoat pocket twenty-five +notes of a thousand francs each, handed them to his son, +and said:</p> + +<p>"Pay!"</p> + +<p>Florestan paid, and took the bill with a deep sigh of +the utmost satisfaction. M. Petit-Jean put the notes +carefully in an old pocket-book, made his bow, and +retired. M. de Saint-Remy left the salon with him, +whilst Florestan was very carefully tearing up the bill.</p> + +<p>"At least Clotilde's twenty-five thousand francs are +still in my pocket, and if nothing is revealed, that is a +comfort. But how she treated me! But what can my +father have to say to the man Petit-Jean?"</p> + +<p>The noise of a door being double-locked made the +vicomte start. His father returned to the room. His +pallor had even increased.</p> + +<p>"I fancied, father, I heard you lock the door of my +cabinet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did."</p> + +<p>"And why, my dear father?" asked Florestan, greatly +amazed.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>And the comte placed himself so that his son could +not pass out by the secret staircase which led to the +ground floor.</p> + +<p>Florestan, greatly disquieted, now observed the sinister +look of his father, and followed all his movements with +mistrust. Without being able to account for it, he felt +a vague alarm.</p> + +<p>"What ails you, father?"</p> + +<p>"This morning when you saw me, your only thought +was, 'My father will not allow his name to be dishonoured; +he will pay if I can but contrive to wheedle +him by some feigned words of repentance.'"</p> + +<p>"Can you indeed think—"</p> + +<p>"Do not interrupt me. I have not been your dupe; +you have neither shame, regret, nor remorse. You are +vicious to the very core, you have never felt one +honest aspiration, you have not robbed as long as +you have been in possession of wherewithal to gratify +your caprices,—that is what is called the probity of rich +persons of your stamp. Then came the want of delicate +feeling, then meannesses, then crime, then forgery. This +is but the first period of your life,—it is bright and +pure in comparison with that which would be yet to +come."</p> + +<p>"If I did not change my conduct, assuredly; but I +shall change it, father, I have sworn to you."</p> + +<p>"You will not change it."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"You will not change it! Expelled from society in +which you have hitherto lived, you would become very +quickly criminal, like the wretches amongst whom you +would be cast, a thief inevitably, and, if your need were, +an assassin. That would be your future life."</p> + +<p>"I an assassin?—I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, because you are a coward!"</p> + +<p>"I have had duels, and have evinced—"</p> + +<p>"I tell you, you are a coward! You have already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +preferred infamy to death. A day would come in which +you would prefer the impunity for fresh crimes to the +life of another. This must not be,—I will not allow it. +I have come in time, at least, to save my name from +public dishonour hereafter. There must be an end to +this."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, dearest father? How an end +to this? What would you imply?" exclaimed Florestan, +still more alarmed at the fearful expression and the +increased pallor of his father's countenance.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a violent blow struck on the +cabinet door. Florestan made a motion to go and open +it, in order to put an end to a scene which terrified him; +but the comte seized him with a hand of iron, and held +him fast.</p> + +<p>"Who knocks?" inquired the comte.</p> + +<p>"In the name of the law, open! Open!" said a +voice.</p> + +<p>"That forgery, then, was not the last," exclaimed the +comte, in a low voice, and looking at his son with a +terrible air.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my father, I swear it!" exclaimed Florestan, +endeavouring, but vainly, to extricate himself from the +vigorous grasp of his father.</p> + +<p>"In the name of the law, open!" repeated the voice.</p> + +<p>"What is it you seek?" demanded the comte.</p> + +<p>"I am a commissary of police, and I have come to +make a search after a robbery of diamonds, of which +M. de Saint-Remy is accused. M. Baudoin, a jeweller, +has proofs. If you do not open, sir, I shall be compelled +to force open the door."</p> + +<p>"Already a thief! I was not then deceived," said +the comte, in a low voice. "I came to kill you,—I +have delayed too long."</p> + +<p>"Kill me?"</p> + +<p>"There is already too much dishonour on my name,—it +must end. I have here two pistols; you must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +blow out your brains, or I will blow them out, and I +will say that you killed yourself in despair in order +to escape from shame."</p> + +<p>And, with a fearful <i>sang-froid</i>, the comte drew a +pistol from his pocket, and, with the hand that was +free, presented it to his son, saying:</p> + +<p>"Now an end to this, if, indeed, you are not a +coward!"</p> + +<p>After repeated and ineffectual attempts to free himself +from the comte's hand, his son fell back aghast and +livid with fear. He saw by the fearful look, the inexorable +demeanour of his father, that he had no pity to +expect from him.</p> + +<p>"My father!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You must die!"</p> + +<p>"I repent!"</p> + +<p>"It is too late. Hark! They are forcing in the +door!"</p> + +<p>"I will expiate my faults!"</p> + +<p>"They are entering! Must I then kill you with my +own hand?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon!"</p> + +<p>"The door gives way! You will then have it so!"</p> + +<p>And the comte placed the muzzle of the weapon +against Florestan's breast.</p> + +<p>The noise without announced that the door of the +cabinet could not long resist. The vicomte saw he +was lost. A sudden and desperate resolution lighted +up his countenance. He no longer struggled with his +father, and he said to him, with equal firmness and +resignation:</p> + +<p>"You are right, my father! Give me the pistol! +There is infamy enough on my name! The life in store +for me is frightful, and is not worth the trouble of a +struggle. Give me the pistol! You shall see if I am +a coward!" and he put forth his hand to take the +pistol. "But, at least, one word,—one single word<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +of consolation,—pity,—farewell!" said Florestan; and +his trembling lips, his paleness, his agitated features, all +betokened the terrible emotion of this frightful moment.</p> + +<p>"But what if he were, indeed, my son!" thought the +comte, with terror, and hesitating to hand him the deadly +instrument. "If he were my son I ought to hesitate +before such a sacrifice."</p> + +<p>A loud cracking of the cabinet door announced that +it was being forced.</p> + +<p>"My father, they are coming! Oh, now I feel that +death is indeed a benefit. Yes, now I thank you! But, +at least, your hand,—and forgive me!"</p> + +<p>In spite of his sternness, the comte could not repress +a shudder, as he said, in a voice of emotion:</p> + +<p>"I forgive you."</p> + +<p>"My father, the door opens; go to them, that, at +least, they may not even suspect you. Besides, if they +enter here, they will prevent me from completing,—adieu!"</p> + +<p>The steps of several persons were heard in the next +room. Florestan placed the muzzle of the pistol to his +heart. It went off at the instant when the comte, to +avoid the horrid sight, turned away his head, and +rushed out of the salon, whose curtains closed upon +him.</p> + +<p>At the sound of this explosion, at the sight of the +comte, pale and haggard, the commissary stopped short +at the threshold of the door, making a sign to his agents +to pause also.</p> + +<p>Informed by Boyer that the vicomte was shut up with +his father, the magistrate understood all, and respected +his deep grief.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" exclaimed the comte, hiding his face in +his hands. "Dead!" he repeated in a tone of agony. +"It was just,—better death than infamy! But it is +horrible!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the magistrate, sorrowfully, after a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +minutes' silence, "spare yourself a painful spectacle,—leave +the house. And now I have another duty to +fulfil, even more painful than that which summoned +me hither."</p> + +<p>"You are quite right, sir," said M. de Saint-Remy; +"as to the sufferer by this robbery, you will request +him to call on M. Dupont, the banker."</p> + +<p>"In the Rue Richelieu? He is very well known," +replied the magistrate.</p> + +<p>"What is the estimated value of the stolen diamonds?"</p> + +<p>"About thirty thousand francs. The person who +bought them, and by whom the fraud was detected, +gave that amount for them to your son."</p> + +<p>"I can still pay it, sir. Let the jeweller go to my +banker the day after to-morrow, and I will have it all +arranged."</p> + +<p>The commissary bowed. The comte left the room.</p> + +<p>After the departure of the latter, the magistrate, +deeply affected by this unlooked-for scene, went slowly +towards the salon, the curtains of which were closed. +He moved them on one side with agitation.</p> + +<p>"Nobody!" he exclaimed, amazed beyond measure, +and looking around him, unable to see the least trace +of the tragic event which he believed had just occurred.</p> + +<p>Then, seeing a small door in the panel of the apartment, +he went towards it. It was fastened in the side +of the secret staircase.</p> + +<p>"It was a trick, and he has escaped by this door!" he +exclaimed, with vexation.</p> + +<p>And in fact, the vicomte, having in his father's presence +placed the pistol on his heart, had very dexterously +fired it under his arm, and rapidly made off.</p> + +<p>In spite of the most careful search throughout the +house, they could not discover Florestan.</p> + +<p>During the conversation with his father and the commissary,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +he had quickly gained the boudoir, then the +conservatory, then the lone alley, and so to the Champs +Elysées.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>The picture of this ignoble degradation in opulence is +a sad thing.</p> + +<p>We are aware of it. But for want of warnings, the +richer classes have also fatally their miseries, vices, +crimes. Nothing is more frequent and more afflicting +than those insensate, barren prodigalities which we have +now described, and which always entail ruin, loss of +consideration, baseness, or infamy. It is a deplorable, +sad spectacle, just like contemplating a flourishing field +of wheat destroyed by a herd of wild beasts. No doubt +that inheritance, property, are, and ought to be, inviolable, +sacred. Wealth acquired or transmitted ought to +be able to shine with impunity and magnificently in the +eyes of the poor and suffering masses. We must, too, +see those frightful disproportions which exist between +the millionaire Saint-Remy, and the artisan Morel. But, +inasmuch as these inevitable disproportions are consecrated, +protected by the law, so those who possess such +wealth ought morally to be accountable to those who +have only probity, resignation, courage, and desire to +labour.</p> + +<p>In the eyes of reason, human right, and even of a +well-understood social interest, a great fortune should +be a hereditary deposit, confided to prudent, firm, skilful, +generous hands, which, entrusted at the same time +to fructify and expend this fortune, know how to fertilise, +vivify, and ameliorate all that should have the felicity to +find themselves within the scope of its splendid and +salutary rays.</p> + +<p>And sometimes it is so, but the instances are very +rare. How many young men, like Saint-Remy, masters +at twenty of a large patrimony, spend it foolishly in +idleness, in waste, in vice, for want of knowing how to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +employ their wealth more advantageously either for +themselves or for the public. Others, alarmed at the +instability of human affairs, save in the meanest manner. +Thus there are those who, knowing that a fixed +fortune always diminishes, give themselves up, fools or +rogues, to that hazardous, immoral gaming, which the +powers that be encourage and patronise.</p> + +<p>How can it be otherwise? Who imparts to inexperienced +youth that knowledge, that instruction, those +rudiments of individual and social economy? No one.</p> + +<p>The rich man is thrown into the heart of society with +his riches, as the poor man with his poverty. No one +takes any more care of the superfluities of the one than +of the wants of the other. No one thinks any more of +making the one moralise than the other. Ought not +power to fulfil this great and noble task?</p> + +<p>If, taking to its pity the miseries, the continually +increasing troubles, of the still resigned workmen, repressing +a rivalry injurious to all, and, addressing itself +finally to the imminent question of the organisation of +labour, it gave itself the salutary lesson of the association +of capital and labour; and if there were an honourable, +intelligent, equitable association, which should +assure the well-doing of the artisan, without injuring +the fortune of the rich, and which, establishing between +the two classes the bonds of affection and gratitude, +would for ever keep safeguard over the tranquillity of +the state,—how powerful, then, would be the consequences +of such a practical instruction!</p> + +<p>Amongst the rich, who then would hesitate as to +the dishonourable, disastrous chances of stock-jobbing, +the gross pleasures of avarice, the foolish vanities of +a ruinous dissipation; or, a means at once remunerative +and beneficial, which would shed ease, morality, +happiness, and joy, over scores of families?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<h5>THE ADIEUX.</h5> + + +<p>The day after that on which the Comte de Saint-Remy +had been so shamefully tricked by his son, a +touching scene took place at St. Lazare at the hour of +recreation amongst the prisoners.</p> + +<p>On this day, during the walk of the other prisoners, +Fleur-de-Marie was seated on a bench close to the fountain +of the courtyard, which was already named "La +Goualeuse's Bench." By a kind of taciturn agreement, +the prisoners had entirely given up this seat to her, as +she had evinced a marked preference for it,—for the +young girl's influence had decidedly increased. La +Goualeuse had selected this bench, situated close to +the basin, because the small quantity of moss which +velveted the margin of the reservoir reminded her of +the verdure of the fields, as the clear water with which +it was filled reminded her of the small river of Bouqueval. +To the saddened gaze of a prisoner a tuft of grass +is a meadow, a flower is a garden.</p> + +<p>Relying on the kind promises of Madame d'Harville, +Fleur-de-Marie had for two days expected her release +from St. Lazare. Although she had no reason for +being anxious about the delay in her discharge, the +young girl, from her experience in misfortune, scarcely +ventured to hope for a speedy liberation. Since her +return amongst creatures whose appearance revived at +each moment in her mind the incurable memory of her +early disgrace, Fleur-de-Marie's sadness had become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +more and more overwhelming. This was not all. A +new subject of trouble, distress, and almost alarm to her, +had arisen from the impassioned excitement of her +gratitude towards Rodolph.</p> + +<p>It was strange, but she only fathomed the depth of +the abyss into which she had been plunged, in order to +measure the distance which separated her from him +whose perfection appeared to her more than human, +from this man whose goodness was so extreme, and his +power so terrible to the wicked. In spite of the respect +with which her adoration for him was imbued, sometimes, +alas! Fleur-de-Marie feared to detect in this +adoration the symptoms of love, but of a love as secret +as it was deep, as chaste as it was secret, and as hopeless +as it was chaste. The unhappy girl had not thought of +reading this withering revelation in her heart until after +her interview with Madame d'Harville, who was herself +smitten with a love for Rodolph, of which he himself was +ignorant.</p> + +<p>After the departure and the promises of the marquise, +Fleur-de-Marie should have been transported with joy +on thinking of her friends at Bouqueval, of Rodolph +whom she was again about to see. But she was not. +Her heart was painfully distressed, and to her memory +occurred incessantly the severe language, the haughty +scrutiny, the angry looks, of Madame d'Harville, as the +poor prisoner had been excited to enthusiasm when +alluding to her benefactor. By singular intuition La +Goualeuse had thus detected a portion of Madame +d'Harville's secret.</p> + +<p>"The excess of my gratitude to M. Rodolph offended +this young lady, so handsome and of such high rank," +thought Fleur-de-Marie; "now I comprehend the severity +of her words, they expressed a jealous disdain. +She jealous of me! Then she must love him, and I must +love, too—him? Yes, and my love must have betrayed +itself in spite of me! Love him,—I—I—a creature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +fallen for ever, ungrateful and wretched as I am! Oh, +if it were so, death were a hundred times preferable!"</p> + +<p>Let us hasten to say that the unhappy girl, thus a +martyr to her feelings, greatly exaggerated what she +called her love.</p> + +<p>To her profound gratitude towards Rodolph was united +involuntary admiration of the gracefulness, strength, and +manly beauty which distinguished him from other men. +Nothing could be less gross, more pure, than this admiration; +but it existed in full and active force, because +physical beauty is always attractive. And then the +voice of blood, so often denied, mute, unknown, or misinterpreted, +is sometimes in full force, and these throbs +of passionate tenderness which attracted Fleur-de-Marie +towards Rodolph, and which so greatly startled her, +because in her ignorance she misinterpreted their tendency, +these feelings resulted from mysterious sympathies, +as palpable, but as inexplicable, as the resemblance of +features. In a word, Fleur-de-Marie, on learning that +she was Rodolph's daughter, could have accounted to +herself for the strong affection she had for him, and +thus, completely enlightened on the point, she would +have admired without a scruple her father's manly +beauty.</p> + +<p>Thus do we explain Fleur-de-Marie's dejection. Although +she was every instant awaiting, according to +Madame d'Harville's promise, her release from St. +Lazare, Fleur-de-Marie, melancholy and pensive, was +seated on her bench near the basin, looking with a kind +of mechanical interest at the sports of some bold little +birds who came to play on the margin of the stone-work. +She had ceased for an instant to work at a baby's nightgown, +which she had just finished hemming. Need we +say that this nightgown belonged to the lying-in clothes +so generously offered to Mont Saint-Jean by the prisoners, +through the kind intervention of Fleur-de-Marie? +The poor misshapen protégée of La Goualeuse was sitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +at her feet, working at a small cap, and, from time to +time, casting at her benefactress a look at once grateful, +timid, and confiding, such a look as a dog throws at his +master. The beauty, attraction, and delicious sweetness +of Fleur-de-Marie had inspired this fallen creature with +sentiments of the most profound respect.</p> + +<p>There is always something holy and great in the aspirations +of a heart, which, although degraded, yet feels for +the first time sensations of gratitude; and, up to this time, +no one had ever given Mont Saint-Jean the opportunity +of even testifying whether or not she could comprehend +the religious ardour of a sentiment so wholly unknown +to her. After some moments Fleur-de-Marie shuddered +slightly, wiped a tear from her eyes, and resumed her +sewing with much activity.</p> + +<p>"You will not then leave off your work even during the +time for rest, my good angel?" said Mont Saint-Jean to +La Goualeuse.</p> + +<p>"I have not given you any money towards buying +your lying-in clothes, and I must therefore furnish my +part with my own work," replied the young girl.</p> + +<p>"Your part! Why, but for you, instead of this good +white linen, this nice warm wrapper for my child, I +should have nothing but the rags they dragged in the +mud of the yard. I am very grateful to my companions +who have been so very kind to me; that's quite true! +But you!—ah, you!—how can I tell you all I feel?" +added the poor creature, hesitating, and greatly embarrassed +how to express her thought. "There," she said, +"there is the sun, is it not? That is the sun?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mont Saint-Jean; I am attending to you," replied +Fleur-de-Marie, stooping her lovely face towards +the hideous countenance of her companion.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you'll laugh at me," she replied, sorrowfully. +"I want to say something, and I do not know how."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, say it, Mont Saint-Jean!"</p> + +<p>"How kind you look always," said the prisoner, looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +at Fleur-de-Marie in a sort of ecstasy; "your eyes +encourage me,—those kind eyes! Well, then, I will try +and say what I wish: There is the sun, is it not? It is so +warm, it lights up the prison, it is very pleasant to see +and feel, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"But I have an idea,—the sun didn't make itself, and +if we are grateful to it, why, there is greater reason still +why—"</p> + +<p>"Why we should be grateful to him who created it; +that is what you mean, Mont Saint-Jean? You are +right; and we ought to pray to, adore him,—he is +God!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is my idea!" exclaimed the prisoner, joyously. +"That is it! I ought to be grateful to my companions, +but I ought to pray to, adore you, Goualeuse, +for it is you who made them so good to me, instead of +being so unkind as they had been."</p> + +<p>"It is God you should thank, Mont Saint-Jean, and +not me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes, it is you, I see you; and it is you who +did me such kindness, by yourself and others."</p> + +<p>"But if I am as good as you say, Mont Saint-Jean, it +is God who has made me so, and it is he, therefore, +whom we ought to thank."</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed, it may be so since you say it!" replied +the prisoner, whose mind was by no means decided; +"and if you desire it, let it be so; as you please."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my poor Mont Saint-Jean, pray to him constantly, +that is the best way of proving to me that you +love me a little."</p> + +<p>"If I love you, Goualeuse? Don't you remember, +then, what you said to those other prisoners to prevent +them from beating me?—'It is not only her whom you +beat, it is her child also!' Well, it is all the same as the +way I love you; it is not only for myself that I love +you, but also for my child."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thanks, thanks, Mont Saint-Jean, you please me +exceedingly when you say that." And Fleur-de-Marie, +much moved, extended her hand to her companion.</p> + +<p>"What a pretty, little, fairy-like hand! How white and +small!" said Mont Saint-Jean, receding as though she +were afraid to touch it with her coarse and clumsy hands.</p> + +<p>Yet, after a moment's hesitation, she respectfully applied +her lips to the end of the slender fingers which +Fleur-de-Marie extended to her, then, kneeling suddenly, +she fixed on her an attentive, concentrated look.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit here by me," said La Goualeuse.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, indeed; never, never!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Respect discipline, as my brave Mont Saint-Jean +used to say; soldiers together, officers together, each +with his equals."</p> + +<p>"You are crazy; there is no difference between us +two."</p> + +<p>"No difference! And you say that when I see you, as +I do now, as handsome as a queen. Oh, what do you +mean now? Leave me alone, on my knees, that I may +look at you as I do now. Who knows, although I am +a real monster, my child may perhaps resemble you? +They say that sometimes happens from a look."</p> + +<p>Then by a scruple of incredible delicacy in a creature +of her position, fearing, perhaps, that she had humiliated +or wounded Fleur-de-Marie by her strange desire, Mont +Saint-Jean added, sorrowfully:</p> + +<p>"No, no, I was only joking, Goualeuse; I never could +allow myself to look at you with such an idea,—unless +with your free consent. If my child is as ugly as I am, +what shall I care? I sha'n't love it any the less, poor +little, unhappy thing; it never asked to be born, as they +say. And if it lives what will become of it?" she +added, with a mournful and reflective air. "Alas, yes, +what will become of us?"</p> + +<p>La Goualeuse shuddered at these words. In fact,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +what was to become of the child of this miserable, degraded, +abased, poor, despised creature?</p> + +<p>"What a fate! What a future!"</p> + +<p>"Do not think of that, Mont Saint-Jean," said Fleur-de-Marie; +"let us hope that your child will find benevolent +friends in its way."</p> + +<p>"That chance never occurs twice, Goualeuse," replied +Mont Saint-Jean, bitterly, and shaking her head. "I have +met with you, that is a great chance; and then—no +offence—I should much rather my child had had that +good luck than myself, and that wish is all I can do for +it!"</p> + +<p>"Pray, pray, and God will hear you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will pray, if that is any pleasure to you, +Goualeuse, for it may perhaps bring me good luck. Indeed, +who could have thought, when La Louve beat me, +and I was the butt of all the world, that I should meet +with my little guardian angel, who with her pretty soft +voice would be even stronger than all the rest, and that +La Louve who is so strong and so wicked—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but La Louve became very good to you as soon +as she reflected that you were doubly to be pitied."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is very true, thanks to you; I shall never +forget it. But, tell me, Goualeuse, why did she the +other day request to have her quarters changed,—La +Louve, she, who, in spite of her passionate temper, +seemed unable to do without you?"</p> + +<p>"She is rather wilful."</p> + +<p>"How odd! A woman, who came this morning from +the quarter of the prison where La Louve now is, says +that she is wholly changed."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Instead of quarrelling and contending with everybody, +she is sad, quite sad, and sits by herself, and if +they speak to her she turns her back and makes no +answer. It is really wonderful to see her quite still, +who used always to be making such a riot; and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +the woman says another thing, which I really cannot +believe."</p> + +<p>"And what is that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that she had seen La Louve crying; La Louve +crying,—that's impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Poor Louve! It was on my account she changed +her quarters; I vexed her without intending it," said La +Goualeuse, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"You vex any one, my good angel?"</p> + +<p>At this moment, the inspectress, Madame Armand, +entered the yard. After having looked for Fleur-de-Marie, +she came towards her with a smiling and satisfied +air.</p> + +<p>"Good news, my child."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, madame?" said La Goualeuse, +rising.</p> + +<p>"Your friends have not forgotten you, they have obtained +your discharge; the governor has just received +the information."</p> + +<p>"Can it be possible, madame? Ah, what happiness!"</p> + +<p>Fleur-de-Marie's emotion was so violent that she +turned pale, placed her hand on her heart, which throbbed +violently, and fell back on the seat.</p> + +<p>"Don't agitate yourself, my poor girl," said Madame +Armand, kindly. "Fortunately these shocks are not +dangerous."</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame, what gratitude!"</p> + +<p>"No doubt it is Madame d'Harville who has obtained +your liberty. There is an elderly female charged to conduct +you to the persons who are interested in you. Wait +for me, I will return for you; I have some directions to +give in the work-room."</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to paint the expression of extreme +desolation which overcast the features of Mont Saint-Jean, +when she learned that her good angel, as she called +La Goualeuse, was about to quit St. Lazare. This +woman's grief was less caused by the fear of becoming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +again the ill-used butt of the prison, than by her anguish +at seeing herself separated from the only being who had +ever testified any interest in her.</p> + +<p>Still seated at the foot of the bench, Mont Saint-Jean +lifted both her hands to the sides of her matted and +coarse hair, which projected in disorder from the sides of +her old black cap, as if to tear them out; then this deep +affliction gave way to dejection, and she drooped her head +and remained mute and motionless, with her face hidden +in her hands, and her elbows resting on her knees.</p> + +<p>In spite of her joy at leaving the prison, Fleur-de-Marie +could not help shuddering when she thought for +an instant of the Chouette and the Schoolmaster, recollecting +that these two monsters had made her swear +never to inform her benefactors of her wretched fate. +But these dispiriting thoughts were soon effaced from +Fleur-de-Marie's mind before the hope of seeing Bouqueval +once more, with Madame Georges and Rodolph, to +whom she meant to intercede for La Louve and Martial. +It even seemed to her that the warm feeling which she +reproached herself for having of her benefactor, being no +longer nourished by sadness and solitude, would be +calmed down as soon as she resumed her rustic occupations, +which she so much delighted in sharing with the +good and simple inhabitants of the farm.</p> + +<p>Astonished at the silence of her companion, a silence +whose source she did not suspect, La Goualeuse touched +her gently on the shoulder, saying to her:</p> + +<p>"Mont Saint-Jean, as I am now free, can I be in any +way useful to you?"</p> + +<p>The prisoner trembled as she felt La Goualeuse's +hand upon her, let her hands drop on her knees, and +turned towards the young girl, her face streaming with +tears. So bitter a grief overspread the features of +Mont Saint-Jean that their ugliness had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" said La Goualeuse. "You +are weeping!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are going away!" murmured the poor prisoner, +with a voice broken by sobs. "And I had never thought +that you would go away, and that I should never see you +more,—never, no, never!"</p> + +<p>"I assure you that I shall always think of your good +feeling towards me, Mont Saint-Jean."</p> + +<p>"Oh, and to think how I loved you, when I was sitting +there at your feet on the ground! It seemed as if +I was saved,—that I had nothing more to fear! It +was not for the blows which the other women may, perhaps, +begin again to give me that I said that I have led +a hard life; but it seemed to me that you were my good +fortune, and would bring good luck to my child, just +because you had pity on me. But, then, when one is +used to be ill-treated, one is then more sensible than +others to kindness." Then, interrupting herself, to +burst again into a loud fit of sobs,—"Well, well, it's +done,—it's finished,—all over! And so it must be +some day or other. I was wrong to think any +otherwise. It's done—done—done!"</p> + +<p>"Courage! Courage! I will think of you, as you +will remember me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that, they may tear me to pieces before +they shall ever make me forget you! I may grow old,—as +old as the streets,—but I shall always have your +angel face before me. The first word I will teach my +child shall be your name, Goualeuse; for but for you it +would have perished with cold."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Mont Saint-Jean!" said Fleur-de-Marie, +deeply affected by the attachment of this unhappy +woman. "I cannot promise to do anything for +you, although I know some very charitable persons; but, +for your child, it is a different thing; it is wholly innocent; +and the persons of whom I speak will, perhaps, +take charge of it, and bring it up, when you can resolve +on parting from it."</p> + +<p>"Part from it! Never, oh, never!" exclaimed Mont<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +Saint-Jean, with excitement. "What would become of +me now, when I have so built upon it?"</p> + +<p>"But how will you bring it up? Boy or girl, it ought +to be made honest; and for that—"</p> + +<p>"It must eat honest bread. I know that, Goualeuse,—I +believe it. It is my ambition; and I say so to +myself every day. So, in leaving here, I will never put +my foot under a bridge again. I will turn rag-picker, +street-sweeper,—something honest; for I owe that, if +not to myself, at least to my child, when I have the +honour of having one," she added, with a sort of pride.</p> + +<p>"And who will take care of your child whilst you +are at work?" inquired the Goualeuse. "Will it not +be better, if possible, as I hope it will be, to put it in +the country with some worthy people, who will make +a good country girl or a stout farmer's boy of it? +You can come and see it from time to time; and one +day you may, perhaps, find the means to live near it +constantly. In the country, one lives on so little!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but to separate myself from it,—to separate +myself from it! It would be my only joy,—I, who +have nothing else in the world to love,—nothing that +loves me!"</p> + +<p>"You must think more of it than of yourself, my poor +Mont Saint-Jean. In two or three days I will write to +Madame Armand, and if the application I mean to make +in favour of your child should succeed, you will have no +occasion to say to it, as you said so painfully just now, +'Alas! What will become of it?'"</p> + +<p>Madame Armand interrupted this conversation, and +came to seek Fleur-de-Marie. After having again burst +into sobs, and bathed with her despairing tears the +young girl's hands, Mont Saint-Jean fell on the seat +perfectly overcome, not even thinking of the promise +which Fleur-de-Marie had just made with respect to +her child.</p> + +<p>"Poor creature!" said Madame Armand, as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +quitted the yard, accompanied by Fleur-de-Marie, "her +gratitude towards you gives me a better opinion of her."</p> + +<p>Learning that La Goualeuse was discharged, the other +prisoners, far from envying her this favour, displayed +their delight. Some of them surrounded Fleur-de-Marie, +and took leave of her with adieux full of +cordiality, frankly congratulating her on her speedy +release from prison.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say," said one, "this little fair girl +has made us pass an agreeable moment, when we agreed +to make up the basket of clothes for Mont Saint-Jean. +That will be remembered at St. Lazare."</p> + +<p>When Fleur-de-Marie had quitted the prison buildings, +the inspectress said to her:</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear child, go to the clothing-room, and +leave your prison clothes. Put on your peasant girl's +clothes, whose rustic simplicity suits you so well. +Adieu! You will be happy, for you are going to be +under the protection of good people, and leave these +walls, never again to return to them. But I am really +hardly reasonable," said Madame Armand, whose eyes +were moistened with tears. "I really cannot conceal +from you how much I am attached to you, my poor +girl!" Then, seeing the tears in Fleur-de-Marie's eyes, +the inspectress added, "But we must not sadden your +departure thus."</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame, is it not through your recommendation +that this young lady to whom I owe my liberty has +become interested in me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I am happy that I did so; my presentiments +had not deceived me."</p> + +<p>At this moment a clock struck.</p> + +<p>"That is the hour of work; I must return to the +rooms. Adieu! Once more adieu, my dear child!"</p> + +<p>Madame Armand, as much affected as Fleur-de-Marie, +embraced her tenderly, and then said to one +of the women employed in the establishment:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take mademoiselle to the vestiary."</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour afterwards, Fleur-de-Marie, +dressed like a peasant girl, as we have seen her at +the farm at Bouqueval, entered the waiting-room, +where Madame Séraphin was expecting her. The +housekeeper of the notary, Jacques Ferrand, had come +to seek the unhappy girl, and conduct her to the Isle +du Ravageur.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<h5>RECOLLECTIONS.</h5> + + +<p>Jacques Ferrand had quickly and readily obtained +the liberty of Fleur-de-Marie, which, indeed, only required +a simple official order. Instructed by the +Chouette of La Goualeuse being at St. Lazare, he +had immediately applied to one of his clients, an +honourable and influential man, saying that a young +female who had once erred, but afterwards sincerely +repented, being now confined in St. Lazare, was in +danger of forgetting her good resolutions, in consequence +of her association with the other prisoners. This +young girl having been (added the notary) strongly +recommended to him by persons of high respectability, +who wanted to take care of her when she quitted the +prison, he besought his client, in the name of religion, +virtue, and the future return to goodness of the poor +girl, to interest himself in obtaining her liberation. +And, further to screen himself from all chance of +future consequences, the notary most earnestly charged +his client not to allow his name to transpire in the business +on any account, as he was desirous of avoiding any +mention of having been employed in the furtherance of +so good and charitable a work.</p> + +<p>This request, which was attributed to the unassuming +modesty and benevolence of Jacques Ferrand, a man +equally esteemed for his piety as for honour and probity, +was strictly complied with, the liberation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +Fleur-de-Marie being asked and obtained in the +client's name alone; and by way of evincing a still +greater regard for the shrinking delicacy of the notary's +nature, the order for quitting the prison was sent under +cover to Jacques Ferrand, that he might send it on to +the parties interesting themselves for the young girl. +And when Madame Séraphin presented the order to the +directors of the prison, she stated herself to have been +sent by the parties feeling a desire to save the young +person it referred to.</p> + +<p>From the favourable manner in which the matron of +the prison had spoken to Madame d'Harville of Fleur-de-Marie, +not a doubt existed as to its being to that +lady La Goualeuse was indebted for her return to +freedom. There was, therefore, no chance of the +appearance of Madame Séraphin exciting any mistrust +in the mind of her victim. Madame Séraphin +could so well assume the look and manner of what +is commonly styled "a nice motherly kind of person," +that it required a more than ordinary share of penetration +to discover a strong proportion of falsehood, deceit, +and cunning behind the smooth glance or the hypocritical +smile; but, spite of the hardened villainy with +which she had shared so long and deeply in the nefarious +practices of her employer, Madame Séraphin, old and hackneyed +as she was, could not view without emotion the +exquisite loveliness of the being her own hand had surrendered, +even as a child, to the cruel care of the Chouette, +and whom she was now leading to an inevitable +death.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," cried Madame Séraphin, speaking +in a tone of honeyed sweetness, as Fleur-de-Marie drew +near, "I suppose you are very glad to get away from +prison."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed, ma'am. I presume it is Madame +d'Harville who has had the goodness to obtain my +liberty for me?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are not mistaken in your guess. But, come, we +are already a little behindhand, and we have still some +distance to go."</p> + +<p>"We are going to Madame Georges at the farm at +Bouqueval, are we not, madame?" cried La Goualeuse.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, certainly, by all means!" answered the +<i>femme de charge</i>, in order to avert all suspicion from +the mind of her victim. "Yes, my dear, we are going +into the country, as you say;" and then added, with a +sort of good-humoured teasing, "But that is not all; +before you see Madame Georges, a little surprise awaits +you—Come, come, our coach is waiting below! Ah, +how you will be astonished by and by! Come, then, let +us go. Your most obedient servant, gentlemen!"</p> + +<p>And, with a multitude of bows and salutations from +Madame Séraphin to the registrar, his clerk, and all the +various members of the establishment then and there +assembled, she descended the stairs with La Goualeuse, +followed by an officer, to command the opening of the +gates through which they had to pass. The last had +just closed behind them, and the two females found +themselves beneath the vast porch which looks out upon +the street of the Faubourg St. Denis, when they nearly +ran against a young female, who appeared hurrying +towards the prison, as though full of anxiety to visit +one of its inmates. It was Rigolette, as pretty and +light-footed as ever, her charming face set off by a +simple yet becoming cap, tastefully ornamented with +cherry-coloured riband; while her dark brown hair +was laid in bright glossy bands down each clear and +finely rounded cheek. She was wrapped in a plaid +shawl, over which fell a snowy muslin collar, secured +by a small knot of riband. On her arm she carried +a straw basket; while, thanks to her light, careful way +of picking her steps, her thick-soled boots were scarcely +soiled; and yet the poor girl had walked far that +day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rigolette!" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, as she recognised +her old prison companion, and the sharer in her +rural excursions.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The reader will, perhaps, recollect that in the recital made by La Goualeuse +to Rodolph, at their first meeting at the ogress's, of the early events +of her life, she spoke to him of Rigolette, who, a friendless child like herself, +had been (with her) confined in a <i>maison de detention</i> until she had reached the +age of sixteen.</p></div> +</div> + +<p>"La Goualeuse!" returned the grisette, and with one +accord the two girls threw themselves into each other's +arms.</p> + +<p>Nothing more touchingly beautiful could be imagined +than the contrast between these two young creatures, +both so lovely, though differing so entirely from one +another in appearance: the one exquisitely fair, with +large, melancholy blue eyes, and an outline of feature +of faultless purity, the pale, pensive, intellectual cast +of the whole countenance reminding the observer of +one of those sweet designs of a village maid by +Greuze,—the same clear delicacy of complexion, the +same ineffable mixture of graceful pensiveness and +candid innocence; the other a sparkling brunette, +with round rosy cheek and bright black eyes, set off by +a laughing, dimpled face and mirthful air,—the very +impersonation of youthful gaiety and light-heartedness, +the rare and touching specimen of happy poverty, +of contented labour, and honest industry!</p> + +<p>After the first burst of their affectionate greetings had +passed away, the two girls regarded each other with close +and tender scrutiny. The features of Rigolette were radiant +with the joy she experienced at this unexpected meeting; +Fleur-de-Marie, on the contrary, felt humbled and +confused at the sight of her early friend, which recalled +but too vividly to her mind the few days of +peaceful calm she had known previous to her first +degradation.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear Goualeuse!" exclaimed the grisette, +fixing her bright eyes with intense delight on her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +companion. "To think of meeting you at last, after so +long an absence!"</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed, a delightful surprise!" replied Fleur-de-Marie. +"It is so very long since we have seen each +other."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but now," said Rigolette, for the first time +remarking the rustic habiliments of La Goualeuse, "I +can account for seeing nothing of you during the last +six months,—you live in the country, I see?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Fleur-de-Marie, casting down her +eyes, "I have done so for some time past."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose that, like me, you have come to see +some friend in this prison?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," stammered poor Fleur-de-Marie, blushing up +to her eyes with shame and confusion; "I was going—I +mean I have just been seeing some one, and, of course, +am now returning home."</p> + +<p>"You live a good way out of Paris, I dare say? Ah, +you dear, kind girl! It is just like you to come all this +distance to perform a good action. Do you remember +the poor lying-in woman to whom you gave, not only +your mattress, with the necessary baby-clothes, but even +what money you had left, and which we meant to have +spent in a country excursion; for you were then crazy +for the country, my pretty village maid?"</p> + +<p>"And you, who cared nothing about it, how very good-natured +and obliging of you to go thither, merely for the +sake of pleasing me!"</p> + +<p>"Well, but I pleased myself at the same time. Why, +you, who were always inclined to be grave and serious, +when once you got among the fields, or found yourself +in the thick shade of a wood, oh, then, what a wild, +overjoyed little madcap you became! Nobody would +have fancied it the same person,—flying after the +butterflies,—crowding your hands and apron with +more flowers than either could hold. It made me +quite delighted to see you! It was quite treat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +enough for a week to recollect all your happiness and +enjoyment. But do let me have another look at you: +how sweetly pretty you look in that nice little round +cap! Yes, decidedly, you were cut out to be +a country girl,—just as much as I was to be a Paris +grisette. Well, I hope you are happy, since you have +got the sort of line you prefer; and, certainly, after all, +I cannot say I was so very much astonished at your +never coming near me. 'Oh,' said I, 'that dear Goualeuse +is not suited for Paris; she is a true wild flower, +as the song says; and the air of great cities is not +for them. So,' said I, 'my pretty, dear Goualeuse has +found a place in some good honest family who live in +the country.' And I was right, was I not, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Fleur-de-Marie, nearly sinking with confusion, +"quite right."</p> + +<p>"There is only one thing I have to reproach you for."</p> + +<p>"Reproach me?" inquired Fleur-de-Marie, looking +tearfully at her companion.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you ought to have let me know before you +went. You should have said 'good-bye,' if you were +only leaving me at night to return in the morning; or, +at any rate, you should have sent me word how you +were going on."</p> + +<p>"I—I—quitted Paris so suddenly," stammered out +Fleur-de-Marie, becoming momentarily more and more +embarrassed, "that, indeed—I—was not able—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not at all angry! I don't speak of it to +scold you! I am far too happy in meeting you unexpectedly; +and, besides, I commend you for getting out +of such a dangerous place as Paris, where it is so difficult +to earn a quiet livelihood; for, you know, two poor +friendless girls like you and me might be led into +mischief, without thinking of, or intending, any harm. +When there is no person to advise, it leaves one so +very defenceless; and then come a parcel of deceitful, +flattering men, with their false promises, when, perhaps,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +want and misery are staring you in the face. There, +for instance, do you recollect that pretty girl called +Julie?—and Rosine, who had such a beautiful fair +skin, and such coal black eyes?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I recollect them very well!"</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear Goualeuse, you will be extremely +sorry to hear that they were both led astray, seduced, +and deserted, till at last, from one unfortunate step to +another, they have become like the miserable creatures +confined in this prison!"</p> + +<p>"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, hanging +down her head, and blushing the deep blush of shame.</p> + +<p>Rigolette, misinterpreting the real cause of her friend's +exclamation, continued:</p> + +<p>"I admit that their conduct is wrong, nay wicked; +but then, you know, my dear Goualeuse, because you +and I have been so fortunate as to preserve ourselves +from harm,—you, because you have been living with +good and virtuous people in the country, out of the +reach of temptation; and I, because I had no time to +waste in listening to a set of make-believe lovers; and +also because I found greater pleasure in having a few +birds, and in trying to get things a little comfortable +and snug around me,—I say, it is not for you and me +to be too severe with others; and God alone knows +whether opportunity, deceit, and destitution may not +have had much to do in causing the misery and disgrace +of Julie and Rosine! And who can say whether, in +their place, we might not have acted as they have done?"</p> + +<p>"Alas!" cried Fleur-de-Marie, "I accuse them not; +on the contrary, I pity them from my heart!"</p> + +<p>"Come, come, my dear child!" interrupted Madame +Séraphin, impatiently offering her arm to her victim, +"you forget that I said we were already behind our time."</p> + +<p>"Pray, madame, grant us a little more time," said +Rigolette. "It is so very long since I saw my dear +Goualeuse!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should be glad to do so," replied Madame Séraphin, +much annoyed at this meeting between the two friends; +"but it is now three o'clock, and we have a long way to +go. However, I will manage to allow you ten minutes +longer gossip. So pray make the best of your time."</p> + +<p>"And tell me, I pray, of yourself," said Fleur-de-Marie, +affectionately pressing the hands of Rigolette +between her own. "Are you still the same merry, +light-hearted, and happy creature I always knew +you?"</p> + +<p>"I was happy and gay enough a few days ago; but +now—"</p> + +<p>"You sorrowful? I can hardly believe it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but indeed I am! Not that I am at all +changed from what you always found me,—a regular +Roger Bontemps,—one to whom nothing was a trouble. +But then, you see, everybody is not like me; so that, +when I see those I love unhappy, why, naturally, that +makes me unhappy, too."</p> + +<p>"Still the same kind, warm-hearted girl!"</p> + +<p>"Why, who could help being grieved as I am? Just +imagine my having come hither to visit a poor young +creature,—a sort of neighbouring lodger in the house +where I live,—as meek and mild as a lamb she was, +poor thing! Well, she has been most shamefully and +unjustly accused,—that she has; never mind of what +just now! Her name is Louise Morel. She is the +daughter of an honest and deserving man, a lapidary, +who has gone mad in consequence of her being put in +prison."</p> + +<p>At the name of Louise Morel, one of the victims of +the notary's villainy, Madame Séraphin started, and +gazed earnestly at Rigolette. The features of the grisette +were, however, perfectly unknown to her; nevertheless, +from that instant, the <i>femme de charge</i> listened with +an attentive ear to the conversation of the two girls.</p> + +<p>"Poor thing," continued the Goualeuse; "how happy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +it must make her to find that you have not forgotten +her in her misfortunes!"</p> + +<p>"And that is not all; it really seems as though some +spell hung over me! But, truly and positively, this is +the second poor prisoner I have left my home to-day to +visit! I have come a long way, and also from a prison,—but +that was a place of confinement for men."</p> + +<p>"You, Rigolette,—in a prison for men?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have, indeed. I have a very dejected customer +there, I can assure you. There,—you see my +basket; it is divided in two parts, and each of my poor +friends has an equal share in its contents. I have got +some clean things here for poor Louise, and I have left +a similar packet with Germain,—that is the name of +my other poor captive. I cannot help feeling ready to +cry when I think of our last interview. I know it will +do no good, but still, for all that, the tears will come +into my eyes."</p> + +<p>"But what is it that distresses you so much?"</p> + +<p>"Why, because, you see, poor Germain frets so much +at being mixed up in his prison with the many bad characters +that are there, that it has quite broken his spirits; +he seems to have no taste, no relish for anything, has +quite lost his appetite, and is wasting away daily. So, +when I perceived the change, I said to myself: 'Oh, +poor fellow, I see he eats nothing. I must make him +something nice and delicate to tempt his appetite a +little; he shall have one of those little dainties he used +to be so fond of when he and I were next-room neighbours.' +When I say dainties, of course I don't mean +such as rich people expect by that name. No, no, my +dish was merely some beautiful mealy potatoes, mashed +with a little milk and sugar. Well, my dear Goualeuse, +I prepared this for him, put it in a nice little china basin +and took it to him in his prison, telling him I had +brought him a little titbit he used once to be fond of, +and which I hoped he would like as well as in former<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +days. I told him I had prepared it entirely myself, +hoping to make him relish it. But alas, no! What do +you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, instead of increasing his appetite, I only set +him crying; for, when I displayed my poor attempts at +cookery, he seemed to take no notice of anything but the +basin, out of which he had been accustomed to see me +take my milk when we supped together; and then he +burst into tears, and, by way of making matters still +better, I began to cry, too, although I tried all I could +to restrain myself. You see how everything went +against me. I had gone with the intention of enlivening +his spirits, and, instead of that, there I was +making him more melancholy than ever."</p> + +<p>"Still, the tears he shed were, no doubt, sweet and +consoling tears!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind what sort of tears they were, that +was not the way I meant to have consoled him. But la! +All this while I am talking to you of Germain as if you +knew him. He is an old acquaintance of mine, one of +the best young men in the world, as timid and gentle as +any young girl could be, and whom I loved as a friend +and a brother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then, of course, his troubles became yours +also."</p> + +<p>"To be sure. But just let me show you what a good +heart he must have. When I was coming away, I asked +him as usual what orders he had for me, saying jokingly, +by way of making him smile, that I was his little housekeeper, +and that I should be very punctual and exact in +fulfilling whatever commissions he gave me, in order to +remain in his employ. So then he, trying to smile in +his turn, asked me to bring him one of Walter Scott's +romances, which he had formerly read to me while I +worked,—that romance was called 'Ivan—' 'Ivanhoe,' +that's it. I was so much amused with this book that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +Germain read it twice over to me. Poor Germain! +How very, very kind and attentive he was!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he wished to keep it as a reminiscence of +bygone days?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt of it; for he bade me go to the library +from whence we had had it, and to purchase the very +same volumes that had so much entertained us, and +which we had read together,—not merely to hire them,—yes, +positively to buy them out and out; and you +may imagine that was something of a sacrifice for him, +for he is no richer than you or I."</p> + +<p>"He must have a noble and excellent heart to have +thought of it," said the Goualeuse, deeply touched.</p> + +<p>"I declare you are as much affected by it as I was, my +dear, kind Goualeuse! But then, you see, the more I +felt ready to cry, the more I tried to laugh; for, to shed +tears twice during a visit, intended to be so very cheering +and enlivening as mine was, was rather too bad. So, +to drive all those thoughts out of my head, I began to +remind him of the amusing story of a Jew,—a person +we read about in the romance I was telling you of. But +the more I rattled away, and the greater nonsense I +tried to talk, the faster the large round tears gathered +in his eyes, and he kept looking at me with such an +expression of misery as quite broke my heart. And so—and +so—at last my voice quite failed me, and I could +do nothing but mingle my sobs with his. He had not +regained his composure when I left him, and I felt quite +provoked with myself for my folly. 'If that is the way,' +said I,'that I comfort and cheer up poor Germain, I +think I had better stay away!' Really, when I remember +all the fine things I intended to have said and done, +by way of keeping up his spirits, I feel quite spiteful +towards myself for having so completely failed."</p> + +<p>At the name of Germain, another victim of the +notary's unprincipled persecution, Madame Séraphin +redoubled her before close attention.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And what has this poor young man done to deserve +being put in prison?" inquired Fleur-de-Marie.</p> + +<p>"What has he done?" exclaimed Rigolette, whose +grief became swallowed up in indignation; "why, he has +had the misfortune to fall into the hands of a wicked old +notary,—the same as persecutes poor Louise."</p> + +<p>"Of her whom you have come to see?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure; she lived as servant with this notary, +and Germain was also with him as cashier. It is too +long a story to tell you now, how or of what he unjustly +accuses the poor fellow; but one thing is quite certain, +and that is, that the wretch of a notary pursues these +two unfortunate beings, who have never done him the +least harm, with the most determined malice and hatred. +However, never mind,—a little patience, 'every one in +their turn,'—that's all." Rigolette uttered these last +words with a peculiarity of manner and expression that +created considerable uneasiness in the mind of Madame +Séraphin. Instead, therefore, of preserving the distance +she had hitherto observed, she at once joined in the conversation, +saying to Fleur-de-Marie, with a kind and +maternal air:</p> + +<p>"My dear girl, it is really growing too late for us to +wait any longer,—we must go; we are waited for, I +assure you, with much anxiety. I am sorry to hurry +you away, because I can well imagine how much you +must be interested in what your friend is relating; for +even I, who know nothing of the two young persons she +refers to, cannot help feeling my very heart ache for +their undeserved sufferings. Is it possible there can be +people in the world as wicked as the notary you were +mentioning? Pray, my dear mademoiselle, what may +be the name of this bad man,—if I may make so bold +as to ask?"</p> + +<p>Although Rigolette entertained not the slightest suspicion +of the sincerity of Madame Séraphin's affected +sympathy, yet, recollecting how strictly Rodolph had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +enjoined her to observe the utmost secrecy respecting +the protection he bestowed on both Germain and Louise, +she regretted having been led away by her affectionate +zeal for her friends to use such words,—"Patience; +every one has his turn!"</p> + +<p>"His name, madame, is Ferrand,—M. Jacques Ferrand, +Notary," replied Rigolette, skilfully adding, by way +of compensation for her indiscreet warmth, "and it is +the more wicked and shameful of him to torment Louise +and Germain as he does, because the poor things have +not a friend upon earth but myself, and, God knows, +it is little I can do besides wishing them well out of +their troubles!"</p> + +<p>"Dear me,—poor things!" observed Madame Séraphin. +"Well, I'm sure I hoped it was otherwise when I +heard you say, 'Patience; every one has their turn!' +I supposed you reckoned for certain upon some powerful +protector to defend these people against that dreadful +notary."</p> + +<p>"Alas, no, madame!" answered Rigolette, hoping to +destroy any suspicion Madame Séraphin might still harbour; +"such, I am sorry to say, is not the case. For +who would be generous and disinterested enough to take +the part of two poor creatures like my unfortunate friends +against a rich and powerful man like M. Ferrand?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there are many good and noble-minded persons +capable of performing so good an action," pursued Fleur-de-Marie, +after a moment's consideration, and with ill-restrained +excitement; "I myself know one to whom it +is equally a duty and a pleasure to succour and assist all +who are in need or difficulty,—one who is beloved and +valued by all good persons, as he is dreaded and hated +by the bad."</p> + +<p>Rigolette gazed on the Goualeuse with deep astonishment, +and was just on the point of asserting that she, +too (alluding to Rodolph), knew some one capable of +courageously espousing the cause of the weak against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +the strong; but, faithful to the injunctions of her +neighbour (as she styled the prince), she contented +herself with merely saying, "Really, do you indeed +know anybody capable of generously coming forward +in defence of poor oppressed individuals, such as we +have been talking of?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do. And, although I have already to +solicit his goodness in favour of others also in severe +trouble, yet, I am quite sure that, did he but know of +the undeserved misfortunes of Louise and Germain, he +would both rescue them from misery and punish their +wicked persecutor; for his goodness and justice are +inexhaustible."</p> + +<p>Madame Séraphin surveyed her victim with surprise. +"This girl," said she, mentally, "might be even more +dangerous than we thought for. And, even if I had +been weak enough to feel inclined to pity her, what I +have just heard would have rendered the little 'accident,' +which is to rid us of her, quite inevitable."</p> + +<p>"Then, dear Goualeuse, since you have so valuable an +acquaintance, I beseech of you to recommend poor Louise +and Germain to his notice," said Rigolette, wisely considering +that her two protégées would be all the better +for obtaining two protectors instead of one. "And pray +say that they do not in the least deserve their present +wretched fate."</p> + +<p>"Make yourself perfectly easy," returned Fleur-de-Marie; +"I promise to try to interest M. Rodolph in +favour of your poor friends."</p> + +<p>"Who did you say?" exclaimed Rigolette, "M. Rodolph?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied La Goualeuse; "do you know him?"</p> + +<p>"M. Rodolph?" again repeated Rigolette, perfectly +bewildered; "is he a travelling clerk?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't know what he is. But why are you +so much astonished?"</p> + +<p>"Because I know a M. Rodolph!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is not the same."</p> + +<p>"Well, describe yours. What is he like?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place, he is young."</p> + +<p>"So is mine."</p> + +<p>"With a countenance full of nobleness and goodness."</p> + +<p>"Precisely," exclaimed Rigolette, whose amazement +increased. "Oh, it must be the very man! Is your M. +Rodolph rather dark-complexioned, with a small moustache?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes."</p> + +<p>"Is he tall and thin, with a beautiful figure, and quite +a fashionable, gentlemanly sort of air,—wonderfully so, +considering he is but a clerk? Now, then, does your M. +Rodolph answer to that description?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," answered Fleur-de-Marie; "and I feel +quite sure that we both mean the same. The only thing +that puzzles me is your fancying he is a clerk."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I know he is. He told me so himself."</p> + +<p>"And you know him intimately?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he is my next-door neighbour."</p> + +<p>"M. Rodolph is?"</p> + +<p>"I mean next-room neighbour; because he occupies +an apartment on the fourth floor, next to mine."</p> + +<p>"He—M. Rodolph—lodges in the next room to +you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. But what do you find so astonishing in +a thing as simple as that? He only earns about fifteen +or eighteen hundred francs a year, and, of course, he +could not afford a more expensive lodging,—though, +certainly, he does not strike me as being a very careful +or economical person; for, bless his dear heart, he actually +does not know the price of the clothes he wears."</p> + +<p>"No, no, it cannot be the same M. Rodolph I am +acquainted with," said Fleur-de-Marie, reflecting seriously; +"oh, no, quite impossible!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose yours is a pattern of order and exactness?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He of whom I spoke, I must tell you, Rigolette," +said Fleur-de-Marie, with enthusiasm, "is all-powerful; +his name is never pronounced but with love and veneration; +there is something awe-inspiring in his very aspect, +giving one the desire to kneel in his presence and offer +humble respect to his goodness and greatness."</p> + +<p>"Ah, then, it is no use trying the comparison any further, +my dear Goualeuse; for my M. Rodolph is neither +powerful, great, nor imposing. He is very good-natured +and merry, and all that; but oh, bless you, as for being +a person one would be likely to go on one's knees to, why, +he is quite the reverse. He cares no more for ceremony +than I do, and even promised me to come and help +me clean my apartment and polish the floor. And then, +instead of being awe-inspiring, he settled with me to +take me out of a Sunday anywhere I liked to go. So +that, you see, he can't be a very great person. But, +bless you, what am I thinking of? It seems as if my +heart were wholly engrossed by my Sunday pleasures, +instead of recollecting these poor creatures shut up and +deprived of their liberty in a prison. Ah, poor dear +Louise—and poor Germain, too! Until they are restored +to freedom there is no happiness for me!"</p> + +<p>For several minutes Fleur-de-Marie remained plunged +in a deep reverie; she all at once recalled to her remembrance +that, at her first interview with Rodolph, at the +house of the ogress, his language and manners resembled +those of the usual frequenters of the <i>tapis-franc</i>. Was +it not, then, possible that he might be playing the part +of the travelling clerk, for the sake of some scheme he +had in view? The difficulty consisted in finding any +probable cause for such a transformation. The grisette, +who quickly perceived the thoughtful meditation in which +Fleur-de-Marie was lost, said, kindly:</p> + +<p>"Never mind puzzling your poor brains on the subject, +my dear Goualeuse; we shall soon find out whether we +both know the same M. Rodolph. When you see yours,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +speak of me to him; when I see mine, I will mention +you; by these means we shall easily discover what conclusion +to come to."</p> + +<p>"Where do you live, Rigolette?"</p> + +<p>"No. 17 Rue du Temple."</p> + +<p>"Come!" said Madame Séraphin (who had attentively +listened to all this conversation) to herself, "that +is not a bad thing to know. This all-powerful and mysterious +personage, M. Rodolph, who is, no doubt, passing +himself off for a travelling clerk, occupies an apartment +adjoining that of this young mantua-maker, who appears +to me to know much more than she chooses to own to; +and this defender of the oppressed, it seems, is lodging +in the same house with Morel and Bradamanti. Well, +well, if the grisette and the travelling clerk continue to +meddle with what does not concern them, I shall know +where to lay my hand upon them."</p> + +<p>"As soon as ever I have spoken with M. Rodolph," +said the Goualeuse, "I will write to you, and give you +my address where to send your answer; but tell me +yours over again, I am afraid of forgetting it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, how fortunate! I declare I have got one +of my cards with me! I remember a person I work for +asked me to leave her one, to give a friend who wished +to employ me. So I brought it out for that purpose; +but I will give it to you, and carry her one another +time." And here Rigolette handed to Fleur-de-Marie +a small card, on which was written, in beautiful text-hand, +"Mademoiselle Rigolette, Dressmaker, 17 Rue du +Temple." "There's a beauty!" continued the grisette. +"Oh, isn't it nicely done? Better, a good deal, than +printing! Ah, poor dear Germain wrote me a number +of cards long ago! Oh, he was so kind, so attentive! +I don't know how it could have happened that I never +found out half his good qualities till he became unfortunate; +and now I continually reproach myself with +having learned to love him so late."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You love Germain, then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, that I do! Why, you know, I must have +some pretext for visiting him in prison. Am I not an +odd sort of girl?" said Rigolette, choking a rising sigh, +and smiling, like an April shower, amid the tears which +glittered in her large dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"You are good and generous-hearted, as you ever +were!" said Fleur-de-Marie, tenderly pressing her friend's +hands within her own.</p> + +<p>Madame Séraphin had evidently learned all she cared +to know, and feeling very little interest in any further +disclosure of Rigolette's love for young Germain, hastily +approaching Fleur-de-Marie, she abruptly said:</p> + +<p>"Come, my dear child, do not keep me waiting another +minute, I beg; it is very late, and I shall be +scolded, as it is, for being so much behind my time; we +have trifled away a good quarter of an hour, and must +endeavour to make up for it."</p> + +<p>"What a nasty cross old body that is!" said Rigolette, +in a whisper, to Fleur-de-Marie. "I don't like the looks +of her at all!" Then, speaking in a louder voice, she +added, "Whenever you come to Paris, my dear Goualeuse, +be sure to come and see me. I should be so delighted to +have you all to myself for a whole day, to show you my +little home and my birds; for I have got some, such +sweet pretty ones! Oh, that is my chief indulgence and +expense!"</p> + +<p>"I will try to come and see you, but certainly I will +write you. So good-bye, my dear, dear Rigolette! Adieu! +Oh, if you only knew how happy I feel at having met +with you again!"</p> + +<p>"And, I am sure, so do I; but I trust we shall soon +see each other again; and, besides, I am so impatient to +know whether your M. Rodolph is the same as mine. +Pray write to me very soon upon this subject, will you? +Promise you will!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will! Adieu, dear Rigolette!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Farewell, my very dear Goualeuse!"</p> + +<p>And again the two poor girls, each striving to conceal +their distress at parting, indulged in a long and affectionate +embrace. Rigolette then turned away, to enter the +prison for the purpose of visiting Louise, according to +the kind permission obtained for her by Rodolph, while +Fleur-de-Marie, with Madame Séraphin, got into the +coach which was waiting for them. The coachman was +instructed to proceed to Batignolles, and to stop at the +barrier. A cross-road of inconsiderable length conducted +from this spot almost directly to the borders of the Seine, +not far from the Isle du Ravageur. Wholly unacquainted +with the locality of Paris, Fleur-de-Marie was unable to +detect that the vehicle did not take the road to the Barrier +St. Denis; it was only when the coach stopped at +Batignolles, and she was requested by Madame Séraphin +to alight, that she said:</p> + +<p>"It seems to me, madame, that we are not in the +road to Bouqueval; and how shall we be able to walk +from hence to the farm?"</p> + +<p>"All that I can tell you, my dear child," answered the +<i>femme de charge</i>, kindly, "is, that I am obeying their +orders given me by your benefactors, and that you will +pain them greatly if you keep your friends waiting."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not for worlds would I be so presuming and +ungrateful as to oppose their slightest wish!" exclaimed +poor Fleur-de-Marie, with kindling warmth, "and I beseech +you, madame, to pardon my seeming hesitation; +but, since you plead the commands of my revered protectors, +depend upon my following you blindly and +silently whithersoever you are pleased to take me. Only +tell me, is Madame Georges quite well?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, in most excellent health and spirits!"</p> + +<p>"And M. Rodolph?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly well, also."</p> + +<p>"Then you know him? But, madame, when I was +speaking to Rigolette concerning him just now, you did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +not seem to be acquainted with him; at least, you did +not say so."</p> + +<p>"Because, in pursuance with the directions given me, +I affected to be ignorant of the person you alluded to."</p> + +<p>"And did M. Rodolph, himself, give you those orders?"</p> + +<p>"Why, what a dear, curious little thing this is!" said +the <i>femme de charge</i>, smilingly; "I must mind what I +am about, or, with her innocent ways of putting questions, +she will find out all my secrets!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, madame, I am ashamed of seeming so inquisitive, +but if you could only imagine how my heart +beats with joy at the bare thoughts of seeing my beloved +friends again, you would pardon me; but, as we have +only to walk on to the place whither you are taking me, +I shall soon be able to gratify my wishes, without tormenting +you by further inquiries."</p> + +<p>"To be sure you will, my dear, for I promise you that +in a quarter of an hour we shall have reached the end +of our journey."</p> + +<p>The <i>femme de charge</i>, having now left behind the last +houses in the village of Batignolles, conducted Fleur-de-Marie +across a grassy road, bordered on each side by +lofty walnut-trees. The day was warm and fine, the sky +half covered by the rich purple clouds of the setting sun, +which now cast its declining rays on the heights of the +<i>colombes</i>, situated on the other side of the Seine. As +Fleur-de-Marie approached the banks of the river, a delicate +bloom tinged her pale cheeks, and she seemed to +breathe with delight the pure fresh air that blew from +the country. Indeed, so strongly was the look of happiness +imprinted on her countenance, that even Madame +Séraphin could not avoid noticing it.</p> + +<p>"You seem full of joy, my dear child; I declare it is +quite a pleasure to see you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed, I am overflowing with gratitude and +eagerness at the thoughts of seeing my dear Madame +Georges so soon, and perhaps, too, M. Rodolph! I trust<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +I may, for, besides my own happiness at beholding him, +I want to speak to him in favour of several poor unfortunate +persons I should be so glad to recommend to his +kindness and protection. How, then, can I be sad when +I have so many delightful things to look forward to? +Oh, who could be unhappy, with such a prospect as mine? +And see, too, how gay and beautiful the sky is, all covered +with bright, golden clouds! And the dear soft green +grass,—I think it seems greener than ever, spite of the +season. And look—look out there! See, where the +river flows behind those willow-trees! Oh, how wide +and sparkling it seems; and, when the sun shines on it, +it almost dazzles my eyes to gaze on it! It seems like a +sheet of gold. Ah, I saw it shining in the same way in +the basin of the prison a little while ago! God does not +forget even the poor prisoners, but allows them to have a +sight of his wondrous works. Though they are separated +by high stone walls from their fellow creatures, the glorious +sun shows them his golden face, and sparkles and +glitters upon the water there, the same as in the gardens +of a king!" added Fleur-de-Marie, with pious gratitude. +Then, incited by a reference to her captivity still more to +appreciate the charms of liberty, she exclaimed, with a +burst of innocent delight: "Oh, pray, madame, do look +there, just in the middle of the river, at that pretty little +island, bordered with willows and poplars, and that sweet +little white house, almost close to the water's edge! How +delicious it must be to live there in the summer, when +all the leaves are on the trees and the birds sing so +sweetly among the branches! Oh, how quiet and cool it +must be in that nice place!"</p> + +<p>"Well, really, now, my dear," said Madame Séraphin, +with a grim smile, "it is singular enough your being so +much struck with that little isle!"</p> + +<p>"Why, madame?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is there we are actually going to."</p> + +<p>"Going to that island?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; does that astonish you?"</p> + +<p>"Rather so, madame."</p> + +<p>"But suppose you found your friends there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose, I say, you found all your friends had assembled +there, to welcome you on your release from +prison, should you not then be greatly surprised?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it were but possible! My dear Madame +Georges?—M. Rodolph?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, my dear, I am just like a baby in +your hands, and you turn and twist me just as you please; +it is useless for me to try to conceal anything, for, with +your little winning ways, you find out all secrets."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall soon see them again? Dear madame, +how can I ever thank you sufficiently for your goodness +to a poor girl like me? Feel how my heart beats! It is +all with joy and happiness!"</p> + +<p>"Well, well, my love, be as wild with delight as you +please, but pray do not hurry on so very fast. You forget, +you little mad thing, that my old bones cannot run +as fast as your nimble young feet."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, madame; but I cannot help being +quite impatient to arrive where we are going."</p> + +<p>"To be sure you cannot; don't fancy I mean to blame +you for it; quite the contrary."</p> + +<p>"The road slopes a little now, madame, and it is rather +rough, too; will you accept of my arm to assist you +down?"</p> + +<p>"I never refuse a good offer, my dear; for I am somewhat +infirm, as well as old, while you are young and +active."</p> + +<p>"Then pray lean all your weight on me, madame; +don't be afraid of tiring me."</p> + +<p>"Many thanks, my child! Your help was really very +serviceable, for the descent is so extremely rapid just +here. Now, then, we are once more on smooth, level +ground."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, madame, can it, indeed, be true that I am about +to meet my dear Madame Georges? I can scarcely +persuade myself it is reality."</p> + +<p>"A little patience,—another quarter of an hour, and +then you will see whether it is true or false."</p> + +<p>"But what puzzles me," said Fleur-de-Marie, after a +moment's reflection, "is, why Madame Georges should +have thought proper to meet me here, instead of at the +farm."</p> + +<p>"Still curious, my dear child, still wanting to know +everybody's reasons."</p> + +<p>"How very foolish and unreasonable I am, am I not, +madame?" said Fleur-de-Marie, smiling.</p> + +<p>"And, by way of punishing you, I have a great mind +to tell you what the surprise is that your friends have +prepared for you."</p> + +<p>"For me, madame, a surprise?"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, you little chatterbox! You will make me +reveal the secret, in spite of myself."</p> + +<p>We shall now leave Madame Séraphin and her victim +proceeding along the road which led to the river's side, +while we precede them, by a few minutes, to the Isle du +Ravageur.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> + +<h5>THE BOATS.</h5> + + +<p>During the night the appearance of the isle inhabited +by the Martial family was very gloomy, but by the bright +light of day nothing could be more smiling than this +accursed spot. Bordered by willows and poplars, almost +entirely covered with thick grass, in which wound several +paths of yellow sand, the islet included a kitchen-garden +and a good number of fruit-trees. In the midst of the +orchard was to be seen the hovel, with the thatched roof, +into which Martial had expressed his intention to retire +with François and Amandine. On this side, the isle +terminated at its point by a kind of stockade, formed of +large piles, driven in to prevent the soil from wearing +away.</p> + +<p>In front of the house, and almost touching the landing-place, +was a small arbour of green trellis-work, +intended to support in summer-time the creeping shoots +of the young vines and hops,—a cradle of verdure, beneath +which were arranged tables for the visitors. At +one end of the house, painted white and covered with +tiles, a wood-house, with a loft over it, formed at the +angle a small wing, much lower than the main body of +the building. Almost precisely over this wing there +appeared a window, with the shutters covered with iron +plates, and strengthened without by two transverse iron +bars attached to the wall by strong clamps.</p> + +<p>Three boats were undulating in the water, fastened to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +posts at the landing-place. Seated in one of these boats, +Nicholas was making sure that the valve he had introduced +performed its part properly. Standing on a bench +at the mouth of the arbour, Calabash, with her hands +placed over her eyes so as to shade away the sun, was +looking out in the direction in which Madame Séraphin +and Fleur-de-Marie were to come to reach the isle.</p> + +<p>"I don't see any one yet, old or young," said Calabash, +getting off the bench and speaking to Nicholas. +"It will be just as it was yesterday; we may as well +wait for the King of Prussia. If these women do not +come in half an hour, we can't wait any longer; Bras-Rouge's +'dodge' is much better, and he'll be waiting for +us. The diamond-matcher is to be at his place in the +Champs Elysées at five o'clock. We ought to be there +before her; the Chouette said so this morning."</p> + +<p>"You are right," replied Nicholas, leaving the boat. +"May thunder smite the old devil's kin, who has given +us all the trouble for nothing! The valve works capitally. +It appears we shall only have one instead of two +jobs."</p> + +<p>"Besides, Bras-Rouge and Barbillon will want us; +they can do nothing by their two selves."</p> + +<p>"True, again; for, whilst the job is doing, Bras-Rouge +must keep watch outside the cabaret, and Barbillon is +not strong enough to drag the matcher into the cellar, +for the old —— will fight for it, I know!"</p> + +<p>"Didn't the Chouette say that, for a joke, she had got +the Schoolmaster at 'school' in the cellar?"</p> + +<p>"Not in this one; in another much deeper, and which +is filled with water at spring-tides."</p> + +<p>"How the Schoolmaster must rage and foam there in +the cellar! There all alone, and blind, too!"</p> + +<p>"That is no matter, for, if he saw as clear as ever, +he could see nothing there; the cellar is as dark as an +oven."</p> + +<p>"Still, when he has done singing all the songs he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +knows, to pass away the time, his days must hang +precious heavy on his hands."</p> + +<p>"The Chouette says that he amuses himself with rat-hunting, +and that the cellar is full of game."</p> + +<p>"I say, Nicholas, talking of certain persons who must +be tired, and fume, and fret," remarked Calabash, with +a savage smile, and pointing to the window fastened up +with the iron plates, "there is one there who must be +ready to devour his own flesh and blood."</p> + +<p>"Bah! He's asleep. Since the morning he hasn't +stirred, and his dog is silent."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he has strangled him for food. For two +days, they must both be desperate hungry and thirsty up +there together."</p> + +<p>"That is their affair. Martial may still last a long +time in this way, if it amuses him. When it is done, +why, we shall say he died of his complaint, and there'll +be an end of that affair."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. As mother went to Asnières this +morning, she met Père Férot, the fisherman, and, as he +was very much astonished at not having seen his friend +Martial for the last two days, mother told him that Martial +was confined to his bed, and was so ill that his life +was despaired of. Daddy Férot swallowed all, like so +much honey; he'll tell everybody else, and when the +thing's done and over, why, it'll all seem nat'ral +enough."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he won't die directly; this way is a tedious +one."</p> + +<p>"What else is to be done? There was no way of +doing otherwise. That devil of a Martial, when he's +put up, is as full of mischief as the old one himself, and +as strong as a bull; particularly when he suspects anything, +it is dangerous to approach him; but, now his +door is well nailed up on the outside, what can he do? +His window is strongly fastened with iron, too."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, he might have driven out the bars by cutting +away the plaster with his knife, and he would have done +it, only I got up the ladder, and chopped at his fingers +with the bill-hook every time he tried to go to work."</p> + +<p>"What a pleasant watch!" said the ruffian, with a +chuckle; "it must have been vastly amusing!"</p> + +<p>"Why, it was to give you time to come with the iron +plates you went to get from Père Micou."</p> + +<p>"What a rage the dear brother must have been +in!"</p> + +<p>"He ground his teeth like a lunatic. Two or three +times he tried to drive me away from the iron bars with +his stick, but then, as he had only one hand at liberty, +he could not work and release the iron bars, which was +what he was trying at."</p> + +<p>"Fortunately, there's no fireplace in his room, and the +door is solid, and his hands finely cut; if not, he would +work his way through the floor."</p> + +<p>"What! Through those heavy beams? No, no, +there's no chance of his escaping; the shutters are +covered with iron plates and strengthened with two +bars of iron, the door is nailed up outside with large +boat-nails three inches long. His coffin is more solid +than if it were made of oak and lead."</p> + +<p>"I say, though, when La Louve comes out of prison, +and makes her way here, to see her man, as she calls +him?"</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall say, 'Look for him.'"</p> + +<p>"By the way, do you know that, if mother had not +shut up those young 'rips' of children, they would have +gnawed their ways through the door, like young rats, to +free Martial? That little vagabond François is quite +furious since he suspects we have packed away his +tall brother."</p> + +<p>"But, you know, they mustn't be left in the room up-stairs +whilst we leave the island; the window is not +barred, and they have only to drop down outside."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>At this moment the attention of Nicholas and Calabash +was attracted by the sound of cries and sobs which +came from the house. They saw the door of the ground +floor, which had been open until then, close violently, +and a minute afterwards the pale and sinister countenance +of Mère Martial appeared through the bars of the +kitchen window. With her long lean arm the culprit's +widow made a sign to her children to come to her.</p> + +<p>"There's a row, I know; I'll bet that it is François, +who's giving himself some airs again," said Nicholas. +"That beggar Martial! But for him, this young scamp +would be by himself. You keep a good look-out, and, +if you see the two women coming, give me a call."</p> + +<p>Whilst Calabash again mounted the bench, and looked +out for the arrival of Séraphin and the Goualeuse, +Nicholas entered the house. Little Amandine was on +her knees in the centre of the kitchen, sobbing and +asking pardon for her Brother François. Enraged +and threatened, the lad, ensconced in one of the angles +of the apartment, had Nicholas's hatchet in his hand, +and appeared determined this time to offer the most +desperate resistance to his mother's wishes. Impassive +as usual, showing Nicholas the cellar, the widow made a +sign to her son to shut François up there.</p> + +<p>"I will never be shut up there!" cried the boy, in a +determined tone. "You want to make us die of hunger, +like Brother Martial."</p> + +<p>The widow looked at Nicholas with an impatient air, +as if to reproach him for not instantly executing her +commands, as, with another imperious gesture, she +pointed to François. Seeing his brother advance +towards him, the young boy brandished the axe with +a desperate air and cried:</p> + +<p>"If you try to shut me up there, whether it is mother, +brother, or Calabash, so much the worse. I shall strike, +and the hatchet cuts."</p> + +<p>Nicholas felt as the widow did the pressing necessity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +there was to prevent the two children from going to +Martial's succour whilst the house was left to itself, as +well as to put them out of the way of seeing the scenes +which were about to pass, for their window looked onto +the river in which they were about to drown Fleur-de-Marie. +But Nicholas was as cowardly as he was ferocious, +and, afraid of receiving a blow from the dangerous +hatchet with which his young brother was armed, hesitated +to approach him. The widow, angry at his +hesitation, pushed him towards François; but Nicholas, +again retreating, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"But, mother, if he cuts me? You know I want all +my arms and fingers at this time, and I feel still the +thump that brute Martial gave me."</p> + +<p>The widow shrugged her shoulders, and advanced +towards François.</p> + +<p>"Don't come near me, mother," shrieked the boy in +a fury, "or you'll pay dear for all the beatings you have +given me and Amandine!"</p> + +<p>"Let 'em shut us up; don't strike mother!" cried +Amandine, in fear.</p> + +<p>At this moment Nicholas saw upon a chair a large +blanket which he used to wrap his booty in at times, +and, taking hold of and partly unfolding it, he threw it +completely over François's head, who, in spite of his +efforts, finding himself entangled under its folds, could +not make use of his weapon. Nicholas then seized hold +of him, and, with his mother's help, carried him into the +cellar. Amandine had continued kneeling in the centre +of the kitchen, and, as soon as she saw her brother overcome, +she sprang up and, in spite of her fright, went to +join him in the dark hole. The door was then double-locked +on the brother and sister.</p> + +<p>"It will still be that infernal Martial's fault, if these +children behave in this outrageous manner to us," said +Nicholas.</p> + +<p>"Nothing has been heard in his room since this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +morning," said the widow, with a pensive air, and she +shuddered, "nothing!"</p> + +<p>"That's a sign, mother, that you were right to say to +Père Férot, the fisherman at Asnières, that Martial had +been so dangerously ill as to be confined to his bed for +the last two days; for now, when all is known, it will +not astonish anybody."</p> + +<p>After a moment's silence, as and if she wished to +escape a painful thought, the widow replied, suddenly:</p> + +<p>"Didn't the Chouette come here whilst I was at +Asnières?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't she stay and accompany us to Bras-Rouge's? +I mistrust her."</p> + +<p>"Bah! You mistrust everybody, mother; you are +always fancying they are going to play you some +trick. To-day it is the Chouette, yesterday it was +Bras-Rouge."</p> + +<p>"Bras-Rouge is at liberty,—my son is at Toulon, yet +they committed the same robbery."</p> + +<p>"You are always saying this. Bras-Rouge escaped +because he is as cunning as a fox—that's it; the +Chouette did not stay, because she had an appointment +at two o'clock, near the Observatory, with the +tall man in black, at whose desire she has carried off +this young country girl, by the help of the Schoolmaster +and Tortillard; and Barbillon drove the hackney-coach +which the tall man in black had hired for the job. So +how, mother, do you suppose the Chouette would inform +against us, when she tells us the 'jobs' she has in hand, +and we do not tell her ours? for she knows nothing of +this drowning job that is to come off directly. Be easy, +mother; wolves don't eat each other, and this will be +a good day's work; and when I recollect, too, that the +jewel-matcher has often about her twenty to thirty thousand +francs' worth of diamonds in her bag, and that, in +less than two hours, we shall have her in Bras-Rouge's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +cellar! Thirty thousand francs' worth of diamonds, +mother! Think of that!"</p> + +<p>"And, whilst we lay hands on this woman, Bras-Rouge +is to remain outside the cabaret?" inquired +the widow, with an air of suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Well, and where would you have him, I should like +to know? If any one comes to his house, mustn't he be +outside the door to answer them, and prevent them from +entering the place whilst we are doing our 'job?'"</p> + +<p>"Nicholas! Nicholas!" cried Calabash, at this moment +from outside, "here come the two women!"</p> + +<p>"Quick, quick, mother! Your shawl! I will land you +on the other side, and that will be so much done," said +Nicholas.</p> + +<p>The widow had replaced her mourning head-dress with +a high black cap, in which she now made her appearance. +At the instigation of Nicholas, she wrapped herself in a +large plaid shawl, with gray and white checks; and, after +having carefully closed and secured the kitchen door, she +placed the key behind one of the window-shutters on the +ground-floor, and followed her son, who was hastily +pursuing his way to the landing-place. Almost involuntarily, +as she quitted the island, she cast a long and +meditative look at Martial's window; and the train of +thought to which its firmly nailed and iron-bound exterior +gave rise seemed, to judge by their effect, to be of a +very mingled and complicated character, for she knitted +her brows, pursed her lips, and then, after a sudden +convulsive shudder, she murmured, in a low hesitating +voice:</p> + +<p>"It is his own fault—it is his own fault!"</p> + +<p>"Nicholas, do you see them? Just down there, along +the path,—a country girl and an old woman!" exclaimed +Calabash, pointing to the other side of the river, where +Madame Séraphin and Fleur-de-Marie were descending a +narrow, winding path which passed by a high bank, on +the top of which were the lime-kilns.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Let us wait for the signal; don't let us spoil the job +by too much haste," said Nicholas.</p> + +<p>"What! Are you blind? Don't you recognise the stout +woman who came the day before yesterday? Look at +her orange shawl; and the little country girl, what a +hurry she seems in! She's a good little thing, I know; +and it's plain she has no idea of what is going to happen +to her, or she wouldn't hasten on at that pace, I'm +thinking."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I recollect the stout woman now. It's all right, +then—all right! Although they are so much behind the +time I had almost given up the job as bad. But let us +quite understand the thing, Calabash. I shall take the +old woman and the young girl in the boat with a valve +to it; you will follow me close on, stern to stern; and +mind and row steadily, so that, with one spring, I may +jump from one boat to the other, as soon as I have +opened the pipe and the water begins to sink the boat."</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid about me, it is not the first time I've +pulled a boat, is it?"</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid of being drowned, you know I can +swim; but, if I did not jump well into the other boat, +why, the women, in their struggles against drowning, +might catch hold of me and—much obliged to you, +but I have no fancy for a bath with the two ladies."</p> + +<p>"The old woman waves her handkerchief," said +Calabash; "there they are on the bank."</p> + +<p>"Come, come along, mother, let's push off," said +Nicholas, unmooring. "Come you into the boat with +the valve, then the two women will not have any fear; +and you, Calabash, jump into t'other, and use your arms, +my girl, and pull a good one. Ah, by the way, take the +boat-hook and put it beside you, it is as sharp as a lance, +and it may be useful," added the ruffian, as he placed +beside Calabash in the boat a long hook with a sharp +iron point.</p> + +<p>A few moments, and the two boats, one rowed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +Nicholas and the other by Calabash, reached the shore +where, for some moments, Madame Séraphin and Fleur-de-Marie +had been waiting. Whilst Nicholas was fastening +his boat to a post on the bank, Madame Séraphin +approached him, and said, in a low and rapid tone:</p> + +<p>"Say that Madame Georges is waiting for us at the +island,—you understand?" And then, in a louder +voice, she added, "We are rather late, my lad."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my good lady, Madame Georges has been asking +for you several times."</p> + +<p>"You see, my dear young lady, Madame Georges is +waiting for us," said Madame Séraphin, turning to +Fleur-de-Marie, who, in spite of her confidence, had +felt considerable repugnance at the sight of the +sinister countenances of Calabash, Nicholas, and the +widow; but the mention of Madame Georges reassured +her, and she replied:</p> + +<p>"I am just as impatient to see Madame Georges; +fortunately, it is not a long way across."</p> + +<p>"How delighted the dear lady will be!" said Madame +Séraphin. Then, addressing Nicholas, "Now, then, my +lad, bring your boat a little closer that we may get in." +Adding, in an undertone, "The girl must be drowned, +mind; if she comes up thrust her back again into the +water."</p> + +<p>"All right, ma'am; and don't be alarmed yourself, +but, when I make you the signal, give me your hand, +she'll then pass under all alone, for everything's ready, +and you have nothing to fear," replied Nicholas, in a +similar tone; and then, with savage brutality, unmoved +by Fleur-de-Marie's youth and beauty, he put his hand +out to her. The young girl leaned lightly on him and +entered the boat.</p> + +<p>"Now you, my good lady," said Nicholas to Madame +Séraphin, offering her his hand in turn.</p> + +<p>Was it presentiment, or mistrust, or only fear that she +could not spring quickly enough out of the little bark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +in which Nicholas and the Goualeuse were, that made +Jacques Ferrand's housekeeper say to Nicholas, shrinking +back, "No, I'll go in the boat with mademoiselle?" +And she took her seat by Calabash.</p> + +<p>"Just as you please," said Nicholas, exchanging an +expressive look with his sister as, with a vigorous +thrust with his oar, he drove his boat from the bank.</p> + +<p>His sister did the same directly Madame Séraphin +was seated beside her. Standing, looking fixedly on +the bank, indifferent to the scene, the widow, pensive +and absorbed, fixed her look obstinately on Martial's +window, which was discernible from the landing-place +through the poplars. During this time the two boats, +in the first of which were Nicholas and Fleur-de-Marie +and in the other Calabash and Madame Séraphin, left +the bank slowly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<h5>THE HAPPINESS OF MEETING.</h5> + + +<p>Before the reader is made acquainted with the +<i>dénouement</i> of the drama then passing in Nicholas's +boat, we shall beg leave to retrace our steps.</p> + +<p>Shortly after Fleur-de-Marie had quitted St. Lazare +in company of Madame Séraphin, La Louve also left +that prison. Thanks to the recommendations of Madame +Armand and the governor, who were desirous of recompensing +her for her kindness towards Mont Saint-Jean, +the few remaining days the beloved of Martial had still +to remain in confinement were remitted her. A complete +change had come over this hitherto depraved, +degraded, and intractable being. Forever brooding over +the description of the peaceful, wild, and retired life, +so beautifully depictured by Fleur-de-Marie, La Louve +entertained the utmost horror and disgust of her past +life. To bury herself with Martial in the deep shades +of some vast forest, such was her waking and dreaming +thought,—the one fixed idea of her existence, against +which all her former evil inclinations had in vain struggled +when, separating herself from La Goualeuse, whose +growing influence she feared, this singular creature had +retired to another part of St. Lazare.</p> + +<p>To complete this sincere though rapid conversion, +still more assured by the ineffectual resistance attempted +by the perverse and froward habits of her companion, +Fleur-de-Marie, following the dictates of her own natural +good sense, had thus reasoned:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"La Louve, a violent and determined creature, is +passionately fond of Martial. She would, then, hail +with delight the means of quitting the disgraceful life +she now, for the first time, views with shame and disgust, +for the purpose of entirely devoting herself to the +rude, unpolished man whose taste she so entirely partakes +of, and who seeks to hide himself from the world, +as much from inclination as from a desire of escaping +from the universal reprobation in which his family is +viewed."</p> + +<p>Assisted by these small materials, gleaned during her +conversation with La Louve, Fleur-de-Marie, in giving a +right direction to the unbridled passion and restraining +the daring hardihood of the reckless creature, had positively +converted a lost, wretched being into an honest +woman; for what could the most virtuous of her sex +have desired more than to bestow her undivided affections +on the man of her choice, to dwell with him in +the silence and solitude of woods, where hard labour, +privations and poverty, would all be cheerfully borne +and shared for his dear sake, to whom her heart was +given?</p> + +<p>And such was the constant, ardent prayer of La +Louve. Relying on the assistance which Fleur-de-Marie +had assured her of in the name of an unknown benefactor, +La Louve determined to make her praiseworthy +proposal to her lover, not, indeed, without the keen and +bitter apprehension of being rejected by him, for La +Goualeuse, while she brought her to blush for her past +life, awakened her to a just sense also of her position as +regarded Martial.</p> + +<p>Once at liberty, La Louve thought only of seeing +"her man," as she called him. He took exclusive +possession of her mind; she had heard nothing of him +for several days. In the hopes of meeting with him in +the Isle du Ravageur, and with the determination of +waiting there until he came, should she fail to find him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +at first, she paid the driver of a cabriolet liberally to +conduct her with all speed to the bridge of Asnières, +which she crossed about a quarter of an hour before +Madame Séraphin and Fleur-de-Marie (they having +walked from the barrier) had reached the banks of the +river near the lime-kilns. As Martial did not present +himself to ferry La Louve across to the Isle du Ravageur, +she applied to an old fisherman, named Father Férot, +who lived close by the bridge.</p> + +<p>It was about four o'clock in the day when a cabriolet +stopped at the entrance of a small street in the village +of Asnières. La Louve leaped from it at one bound, +threw a five-franc piece to the driver, and proceeded +with all haste to the dwelling of old Férot, the ferryman. +La Louve, no longer dressed in her prison garb, +wore a gown of dark green merino, a red imitation of +cashmere shawl with large, flaming pattern, and a net +cap trimmed with riband; her thick, curly hair was +scarcely smoothed out, her impatient longing to see +Martial having rendered an ordinary attention to her +toilet quite impossible. Any other female would, after +so long a separation, have exerted her very utmost +to appear becomingly adorned at her first interview +with her lover; but La Louve knew little and cared +less for all these coquettish arts, which ill accorded +with her excitable nature. Her first, her predominating +desire was to see "her man" as quickly as possible, and +this impetuous wish was caused, not alone by the fervour +of a love which, in minds as wild and unregulated as +hers, sometimes leads on to madness, but also from a +yearning to pour into the ear of Martial the virtuous +resolutions she had formed, and to reveal to him the +bright vista of happiness opened to both by her conversation +with Fleur-de-Marie.</p> + +<p>The flying steps of La Louve soon conducted her +to the fisherman's cottage, and there, seated tranquilly +before the door, she found Father Férot, an old, white-headed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +man, busily employed mending his nets. Even +before she came close up to him, La Louve cried out:</p> + +<p>"Quick, quick, Father Férot! Your boat! Your +boat!"</p> + +<p>"What! Is it you, my girl? Well, how are you? +I have not seen you this long while."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know; but where is your boat? and take +me across to the isle as fast as you can row."</p> + +<p>"My boat? Well to be sure! Now, how very unlucky! +As if it was to be so. Bless you, my girl, it is quite out +of my power to ferry you across to-day."</p> + +<p>"But why? Why is it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, my son has taken my boat to go up +to the boat-races held at St. Ouen. Bless your heart, I +don't think there's a boat left all along the river's side."</p> + +<p>"Distraction!" exclaimed La Louve, stamping her +foot and clenching her hand. "Then all is lost; I shall +not be able to see him!"</p> + +<p>"'Pon my honour and word, it's true, though," said +old Férot. "I am extremely sorry I am unable to ferry +you over, because, no doubt, by your going on so, he is +very much worse."</p> + +<p>"Who is much worse? Who?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Martial!"</p> + +<p>"Martial!" exclaimed La Louve, snatching the sleeve +of old Férot's jacket, "My man ill?"</p> + +<p>"Bless me! Did you not know it?"</p> + +<p>"Martial? Do you mean Martial?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure I do; but don't hold me so tight, you'll +tear my blouse. Now be quiet, there's a good girl. I +declare you frighten me, you stare about so wildly."</p> + +<p>"Ill! Martial ill? And how long has he been so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, two or three days."</p> + +<p>"'Tis false! He would have written and told me of +it, had it been so."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but then, don't you see? He's been too bad to +handle a pen."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Too ill to write! And he is on the isle! Are you +sure—quite sure he is there?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I'll tell you. You must know, this morning, +I meets the widow Martial. Now you are aware, my +girl, that most, in general, when I notice her coming one +way, I make it my business to go the other, for I am not +particular fond of her,—I can't say I am. So then—"</p> + +<p>"But my man—my man! Tell me of him!"</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit,—I'm coming to him. So when I found +I couldn't get away from the mother, and, to speak the +honest truth, that woman makes me afraid to seem to +slight her. She has a sort of an evil look about her, +like one as could do you any manner of harm for only +wishing for; I can't account for it, I don't know what +it is, for I am not timorous by nature, but somehow the +widow Martial does downright scare me. Well, says I, +thinking just to say a few words and pass on, 'I haven't +seen anything of your son Martial these last two or three +days,' says I, 'I suppose he's not with you just now?' +upon which she fixed her eyes upon me with such a look! +'Tis well they were not pistols, or they would have shot +me, as folks say."</p> + +<p>"You drive me wild! And then—and what said +she?"</p> + +<p>Father Férot was silent for a minute or two, and then +added:</p> + +<p>"Come, now, you are a right sort of a girl; if you +will only promise me to be secret, I will tell you all I +know."</p> + +<p>"Concerning my man?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, to be sure, for Martial is a good fellow, though +somewhat thoughtless; and it would be a sore pity +should any mischance befall him through that old +wretch of a mother or his rascally brother!"</p> + +<p>"But what is going on? What have his mother or +brother done? And where is he, eh? Speak, I tell +you! Speak!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, well, have a little patience! And, I say, do just +let my blouse alone! Come, take your hands off, there's +a good girl; if you keep interrupting me, and tear my +clothes in this way, I shall never be able to finish +my story, and you will know nothing at last."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how you try my patience!" exclaimed La Louve, +stamping her foot with intense passion.</p> + +<p>"And you promise never to repeat a word of what I +am about to tell you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, I never will!"</p> + +<p>"Upon your word of honour?"</p> + +<p>"Father Férot, you will drive me mad!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a hot-headed girl it is! Well, now, then, +this is what I have got to say; but, first and foremost, I +must tell you that Martial is more than ever at variance +with his family; and, if he were to get some foul play at +their hands, I should not be at all surprised; and that +makes me the more sorry my boat is not at hand to help +you across the water, for, if you reckon upon either +Nicholas or Calabash taking you over to the isle, why, +you'll just find yourself disappointed, that's all."</p> + +<p>"I know that as well as you do; but what did my +man's mother tell you? He was in the isle, then, when +he fell ill, was he not?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you put me out so with your questions; let +me tell my story my own way. This morning I says to +the widow,'Why,' says I,'I have seen nothing of Martial +these last two or three days. I mark his boat is +still moored,—he don't seem to use it as usual; I suppose +he's gone away a bit? Maybe he's in Paris upon +his business?' Upon which the widow gave me, oh, +such a devil's look! So says she,'He's bad a-bed in the +isle, and we don't look for him to get better!' 'Oh, +oh!' says I to myself,'that's it, is it? It's three days +since—' Holla! stop, I say!" cried old Férot, interrupting +himself; "where the deuce are you going? +What is the girl after now?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>Believing the life of Martial in danger from the +inhabitants of the isle, and unable longer to endure +the twaddle of the old fisherman, La Louve rushed, half +frantic with rage and fear, towards the banks of the +Seine. Some topographical descriptions will be requisite +for the perfect understanding of the ensuing scene.</p> + +<p>The Isle du Ravageur was nearer to the left bank of +the river than it was to the right, from which Fleur-de-Marie +and Madame Séraphin had embarked. La Louve +stood on the left bank. Without being extremely high, +the surface of the isle completely prevented those on one +side the river from seeing what was passing on the opposite +bank; thus La Louve had been unable to witness +the embarkation of La Goualeuse, while the Martial +family had been equally prevented from seeing La +Louve, who, at that very instant, was rushing in wild +desperation along the banks of the other side of the +river.</p> + +<p>Let us also recall to the reader, that the country-house +belonging to Doctor Griffon, and temporarily occupied by +the Count Saint-Remy was midway between the land +and that part of the shore where La Louve arrived half +wild with apprehension and impatience. Unconsciously +she rushed past two individuals, who, struck with +her excited manner and haggard looks, turned back to +watch her proceedings. These two personages were the +Count Saint-Remy and Doctor Griffon.</p> + +<p>The first impulse of La Louve, upon learning the +danger which threatened her lover, was to hurry +towards the spot from whence the peril proceeded; +but, as she reached the water's edge, she became painfully +sensible of the difficulties that stood in the way of +her reaching the opposite land. As the old fisherman +had assured her, she well knew the folly of expecting +any strangers to pass by, and none of the Martial family +would take the trouble of rowing over to fetch her to +the isle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>Heated and breathless, her eyes sparkling with eager +excitement, she stopped opposite that point of the isle +which, taking a sudden bend in this direction, was the +nearest approach from the shore. Through the leafless +branches of the willows and poplars, La Louve could see +the roof of the very house where Martial perhaps lay +dying.</p> + +<p>At this distracting idea La Louve uttered a wild cry +of desperation, then, snatching off her shawl and cap, +she slipped out of her gown; and, undressed as she was +to her petticoat, she threw herself intrepidly into the +river, waded until she got out of her depth, and then, +fearlessly striking out, she swam determinedly towards +the isle, affording a strange spectacle of wild and desperate +energy. At each fresh impulsion of the arms +the long, thick hair of La Louve, unfastened by the violent +exercise she was using, shook and waved about her +head like the rich mane of a war-horse. But for the +fixedness of her gaze, constantly riveted on the house +which contained Martial, and the contraction of her features, +drawn together by almost the convulsive agonies of +fear and dreadful anticipation of arriving too late, the +poacher's mistress might have been supposed to have +been merely enjoying the cool refreshment of the water +for her own sport and diversion, so boldly and freely did +she swim.</p> + +<p>Tattooed in remembrance of her lover, her white but +sinewy arms, strong as those of a man, divided the +waters with a stroke which sent the sparkling element +in rushing streams of liquid pearls over her broad shoulders +and strong, expansive chest, resembling a block of +half-submerged marble. All at once, from the other +side of the isle, rose a cry of distress,—a cry of agony +at once fearful and despairing. La Louve started, and +suddenly stopped in her rapid course; then supporting +herself with one hand, with the other she pushed back +her thick, dripping hair, and listened. Again the cry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +was repeated, but more feebly, supplicatory, convulsive, +and expiring; and then the most profound silence reigned +around.</p> + +<p>"'Tis Martial—'tis his cry! He calls me to his +aid!" exclaimed La Louve, swimming with renewed +vigour, for, in her excited state of mind, the voice which +had rent the air, and sent a pang through her whole +frame, seemed to her to be that of her lover.</p> + +<p>The count and the doctor, whom La Louve had rushed +so quickly by, were quite unable to overtake her in time +to prevent her daring attempt; but both arrived immediately +opposite the isle at the moment when those +frightful cries were heard. Both stopped, as perfectly +shocked and startled as La Louve had been. Observing +the desperate energy with which she battled with the +water, they exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"The unfortunate creature means to drown herself!"</p> + +<p>But their fears were vain. Martial's mistress swam +like an otter, and, with a few more vigorous strokes, the +intrepid creature had reached the land. She gained her +feet, and, to assist her in climbing up the bank, she took +hold of one of the stakes used as a sort of protecting +stockade at the extremity of the isle, when at that instant, +as partially in the water and holding on by one +hand, she saw drifting along the form of a young female, +dressed after the fashion of the country girls who come +to Paris with their wares. The body floated slowly on +with the current, which drove it against the piles, while +the garments served to render it buoyant. To cling to +one of the strongest stakes, and with the hand left free +to snatch at the clothes of the female as it was passing, +was the instantaneous impulse of La Louve,—an impulse +executed as rapidly as conceived. In her extreme +eagerness, however, she drew the unfortunate being she +sought to save so suddenly and violently towards herself +and within the small enclosure formed by the piles, that +the body sunk completely under water, though here it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +was shallow enough to walk to land. Gifted with skill +and strength far from common, La Louve raised La +Goualeuse (for she it was, although not as yet recognised +by her late friend), took her up in her powerful arms as +though she had been a child, and laid her on the grassy +banks of the isle.</p> + +<p>"Courage! Courage!" shouted M. de Saint-Remy, +from the opposite side, having, as well as Doctor Griffon, +witnessed this bold deliverance. "We will make +all haste to cross the bridge of Asnières, and bring a +boat to your assistance."</p> + +<p>After thus speaking, both the count and his companion +proceeded as quickly as they were able in the +direction of the bridge; but La Louve heard not the +words addressed to her.</p> + +<p>Let us again repeat, that, from the right bank of the +Seine, on which Nicholas, Calabash, and their mother +assembled after the commission of their atrocious crime, +it was impossible, owing to its steepness, to observe what +was passing on the opposite shore. Fleur-de-Marie, +abruptly drawn by La Louve within the piles, having +first sunk completely from the eyes of her murderers, +was thus in safety from any further pursuit on their +part, they believing that she had effectually perished.</p> + +<p>A few instants after, the current, as it swept by, carried +with it a second body, floating near to the surface +of the water; but La Louve perceived it not. It was +the corpse of Madame Séraphin, the notary's <i>femme de +charge</i>. She, however, was perfectly dead.</p> + +<p>It was as much the interest of Nicholas and Calabash +as it was of Jacques Ferrand to remove so formidable a +witness as well as sharer of their crime; seizing the +opportunity, therefore, when the boat sunk with Fleur-de-Marie, +to spring into that rowed by his sister, and in +which was Madame Séraphin, he contrived to give the +small vessel so great a shock as almost threw the <i>femme +de charge</i> into the water, and, while struggling to recover<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +herself, he managed to thrust her overboard, and then +to finish her with his boat-hook.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>Breathless and exhausted, La Louve, kneeling on the +grass beside Fleur-de-Marie, tried to recover her strength, +and, at the same time, to make out the features of her she +had saved from certain death. Who can describe her +surprise, her utter astonishment, as she recognised +her late prison companion,—she who had exercised so +beneficial an influence on her mind, and produced so complete +a change in her conduct and ideas? In the first +bewilderment of her feelings even Martial was forgotten.</p> + +<p>"La Goualeuse!" exclaimed she, as, with head bent +down, her hair dishevelled, her garments streaming with +wet, she, kneeling, contemplated the unhappy girl +stretched almost dying before her on the grass.</p> + +<p>Pale, motionless, her half closed eyes vacant and senseless, +her beautiful hair glued to her pallid brows, her lips +blue and livid, her small, delicate hands stiff and cold, +La Goualeuse might well have passed for dead to any but +the watchful eye of affection.</p> + +<p>"La Goualeuse!" again cried La Louve. "What a +singular chance that I should have come hither to relate +to my man all the good and harm she has done me with +her words and promises, as well as the resolution I have +taken, and to find the poor thing thus to give me the +meeting! Poor girl! She is cold and dead. But, no, +no!" exclaimed La Louve, stooping still more closely +over Fleur-de-Marie, and, as she did so, finding a faint—indeed, +almost imperceptible—breath escape her lips; +"no, she lives! Merciful Father, she breathes! And +'tis I have snatched her from death! I, who never yet +saved any one! Oh, how happy the thought makes me! +My heart glows with a new delight. How thankful I +feel that none but I saved her! Ha! but my man,—I +must save him also. Perhaps he is even now in his +death-throes—his mother and brother are even wretches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +enough to murder him! What shall I do? I cannot +leave this poor creature here,—I will carry her to the +widow's house. She must and she shall succour the poor +Goualeuse and let me see Martial, or I will smash everything +in my way. No mother, brother, or sister shall +hinder me from going wherever my man is!"</p> + +<p>And, springing up as she spoke, La Louve raised +Fleur-de-Marie in her strong arms. Charged with this +slender burthen, she hurried towards the house, never for +a moment doubting that, spite of their hard and wicked +natures, the widow and her daughter would bestow on +Fleur-de-Marie every requisite care.</p> + +<p>When Martial's mistress had reached that point of the +isle from which both sides of the Seine were distinguishable, +Nicholas, his mother, and Calabash had quitted the +place, certain of the accomplishment of their double +crime; they then repaired, in all haste, to the house of +Bras-Rouge.</p> + +<p>At this moment a man who, hidden in one of the recesses +of the river concealed by the lime-kiln, had, without +being seen himself, witnessed the whole progress of +this horrible scene, also disappeared; believing, as well +as the guilty perpetrators, that the fell deed had been +fully achieved. This man was Jacques Ferrand.</p> + +<p>One of Nicholas's boats was rocking to and fro, moored +to a stake on the river's bank, just by where Madame +Séraphin and La Goualeuse had embarked.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had Jacques Ferrand quitted the lime-kiln to +return to Paris than M. de Saint-Remy and Doctor Griffon +hastily crossed the bridge of Asnières, for the purpose of +reaching the isle; which they contemplated doing by +means of Nicholas's boat, which they had discerned from +afar.</p> + +<p>To the extreme astonishment of La Louve, when she +arrived at the house in the Isle du Ravageur, she found +the door shut and fastened. Placing the still inanimate +form of Fleur-de-Marie beneath the porch, she more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +closely examined the dwelling. The window of Martial's +chamber was well known to her; what was her surprise +to find the shutters belonging to it closed, and sheets of +tin nailed over them, strongly secured from without by +two bars of iron!</p> + +<p>Suspecting a part of the cause of this, La Louve, in a +loud, hoarse voice of mingled fury and deep tenderness, +screamed out as loudly as she could:</p> + +<p>"Martial! My man!"</p> + +<p>No answer was returned.</p> + +<p>Terrified at this silence, La Louve began pacing round +and round the house like a wild beast who scents the +spot whither her mate has been entrapped, and with deep +roars and savage growls demands admittance to him.</p> + +<p>Still pursuing her agitated search, La Louve kept +shouting from time to time, "My man! Are you there, +my man?" And in her desperate fury she shook and +rattled the bars of the kitchen windows, beat against +the walls, and knocked long and loudly at the door. All +at once a dull, indistinct noise was heard from withinside +the house. Eagerly and attentively La Louve +listened; the noise, however, ceased.</p> + +<p>"My man heard me! I must and will get in somehow, +if I gnaw the door away with my teeth."</p> + +<p>And again she reiterated her frantic cries and adjurations +to Martial. Several faint blows struck inside the +closed shutters of Martial's chamber replied to the yells +and screams of La Louve.</p> + +<p>"He is there!" cried she, suddenly stopping beneath +the window of her lover. "He is there! I am sure of +it; and if all other means fail I will strip off that tin +with my nails, but I will wrench those shutters open!"</p> + +<p>So saying, she glanced frantically around in search of +something to aid her efforts to free her lover, when her +eye caught sight of a ladder partly hanging against one +of the outside shutters of the sitting-room. Hastily pulling +the shutter, the more quickly to disengage the ladder,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +the key of the outer door, left by the widow on the sill +of the window, fell to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if this be only the right key!" cried La Louve, +trying it in the lock of the entrance door; "I can go +straight up stairs to his chamber. Oh, it turns! It +opens!" exclaimed La Louve, with delight; "and my +man is saved!"</p> + +<p>Once in the kitchen she was struck by the cries of the +two children, who, shut up in the cellar, and hearing an +unusual noise, called loudly for help. The widow, persuaded +that no person would visit the isle or her dwelling, +had contented herself with double-locking the door +upon François and Amandine, leaving the key in the +lock.</p> + +<p>Released by La Louve, the two children hurried from +the cellar to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Oh, La Louve!" exclaimed François, "save our dear +Brother Martial; they want him to die! For two days +he has been shut up in his room!"</p> + +<p>"They have not wounded him, have they?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, I think not!"</p> + +<p>"I have arrived just in time, it seems," cried La +Louve, rushing towards the staircase, and hastily mounting +the stairs. Then, suddenly stopping, she exclaimed, +"Ah, but La Goualeuse! I quite forgot her. Amandine, +my child, light a fire directly; and then do you and your +brother fetch a poor, half-drowned girl you will find lying +outside the door under the porch, and place her before +the fire. She would have been quite dead, if I had not +saved her. François, quick! Bring me a crowbar, a +hatchet, an axe, anything, that I may break in the door +that confines my man!"</p> + +<p>"There is the cleaver we split wood with, but it is too +heavy for you," said the lad, dragging forward an enormous +chopper.</p> + +<p>"Too heavy! I don't even feel it!" cried La Louve, +swinging the ponderous weapon, which, at another time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +she would have had much difficulty in lifting, as though +it had been a feather.</p> + +<p>Then, proceeding with hurried steps up-stairs, she +called out to the children:</p> + +<p>"Go and fetch the young girl I told you of, and place +her by the fire."</p> + +<p>And, with two bounds, La Louve reached the corridor, +at the end of which was situated the apartment of +Martial.</p> + +<p>"Courage! Courage, my man! Your Louve is here!" +cried she, and, lifting the cleaver with both hands, she +dashed it furiously against the door.</p> + +<p>"It is fastened on the outside," moaned Martial, in a +feeble voice; "draw out the nails,—you cannot open it +otherwise."</p> + +<p>Throwing herself upon her knees in the passage, by +the help of the edge of the cleaver, her nails, which she +almost tore bleeding from their roots, and her fingers, +which were lacerated and torn, La Louve contrived to +extract the huge nails which fastened the door all around. +At length her heroic exertions were crowned with success,—the +door yielded to her efforts, and Martial, pale, +bleeding, and almost exhausted, fell into the arms of his +mistress.</p> + +<p>"At last—I have you—I hold you—I press you to +my heart!" exclaimed La Louve, as she received and +tenderly pressed Martial in her arms, with a joy of +possession that partook almost of savage energy. She +supported, or, rather, carried him to a bench placed in +the corridor. For several minutes Martial remained +weak and haggard, endeavouring to recover from the +violent surprise which had proved nearly too much for +his exhausted strength. La Louve had come to the succour +of her lover at the very instant when, worn-out and +despairing, he felt himself dying,—less from want of +food than air, which it was impossible to obtain in so +small an apartment, unprovided with a chimney or any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +other outlet, and hermetically closed, thanks to the +fiendish contrivance of Calabash, who had stopped even +the most trifling crevices in the door and window with +pieces of old rag.</p> + +<p>Trembling with joy and apprehension, her eyes streaming +with tears, La Louve, kneeling beside Martial, watched +his slightest movements, and intently gazed on his features. +The unfortunate youth seemed gradually to +recover as his lungs inhaled a freer and more healthful +atmosphere. After a few convulsive shudderings he +raised his languid head, heaved a deep sigh, and, opening +his eyes, looked eagerly around him.</p> + +<p>"Martial! 'Tis I!—your Louve! How are you +now?"</p> + +<p>"Better!" replied he, in a feeble voice.</p> + +<p>"Thank God! Will you have a little water or some +vinegar?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," replied Martial, speaking more naturally; +"air, air! Oh, I want only air!"</p> + +<p>At the risk of gashing the backs of her hands, La +Louve drove them through the four panes of a window +she could not have opened without first removing a +large and heavy table.</p> + +<p>"Now I breathe! I breathe freely! And my head +seems quite relieved!" said Martial, entirely recovering +his senses and voice.</p> + +<p>Then, as if recalling for the first time the service his +mistress had rendered him, he exclaimed, with a burst of +ineffable gratitude:</p> + +<p>"But for you, my brave Louve, I should soon have +been dead!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind thinking of that! But tell me, how +do you find yourself now?"</p> + +<p>"Better—much better!"</p> + +<p>"You are hungry, I doubt not?"</p> + +<p>"No; I feel myself too weak for that. What I have +suffered most cruelly from has been want of air. At<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +last I felt suffocating, strangling, choking. Oh, it was +dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"But now?"</p> + +<p>"I live again. I come forth from the very tomb +itself; and that, too, thanks to you!"</p> + +<p>"And these cuts upon your poor bleeding hands! +For God's sake, what have they done to you?"</p> + +<p>"Nicholas and Calabash, not daring to attack me +openly a second time, fastened me up in my chamber +to allow me to perish of hunger in it. I tried to prevent +their nailing up my shutters, and my sister chopped +my fingers with a hatchet."</p> + +<p>"The monsters! They wished to make it appear that +you had died of sickness. Your mother had spread the +report of your being in a hopeless state. Your mother, +my man,—your own mother!"</p> + +<p>"Hold!" cried Martial, with bitterness; "mention +her not." Then for the first time remarking the wet +garments and singular state of La Louve's attire, he +added, "But what has happened to you? Your hair is +dripping wet; you have only your underclothes on; and +they are drenched through."</p> + +<p>"No matter, no matter what has happened to me, +since you are saved. Oh, yes,—saved!"</p> + +<p>"But explain to me how you became thus wet +through."</p> + +<p>"I knew you were in danger, and finding no boat—"</p> + +<p>"You swam to my rescue?"</p> + +<p>"I did. But your hands? Give them to me that I +may heal them with my kisses! You are in pain, I fear? +Oh, the monsters! And I not here to help you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my brave Louve!" exclaimed Martial, enthusiastically; +"bravest and best of all brave creatures!"</p> + +<p>"Did not your hand trace on my arm 'Death to the +cowardly?' See!" cried La Louve, showing her tattooed +arm, on which these very words were indelibly +engraved.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, you are bold and intrepid; but the cold has +seized you,—you tremble!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is not with cold."</p> + +<p>"Never mind,—go in there. You will find Calabash's +cloak; wrap yourself well in it."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"I insist!"</p> + +<p>In an instant La Louve, who had quickly flown at +her lover's second command, returned wrapped in a +plaid mantle.</p> + +<p>"To think you ran the risk of drowning yourself,—and +all for me!" resumed Martial, gazing on her with +enthusiastic delight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not altogether for you. A poor girl was +nearly perishing in the river, and I saved her as I +landed."</p> + +<p>"Saved her also. And where is she?"</p> + +<p>"Below with the children, who are taking care of her."</p> + +<p>"And who is she?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, you can scarcely credit what a singular +and lucky chance brought me to her rescue! She was +one of my companions at St. Lazare,—a most extraordinary +sort of girl. Oh, you don't half know—"</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"Only conceive my both hating and loving her; +for she had introduced happiness and death into my +heart and thoughts."</p> + +<p>"Who? This girl?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and all on your account."</p> + +<p>"On mine?"</p> + +<p>"Hark ye, Martial!" Then interrupting her proposed +speech, La Louve continued, "No, no; I never, +never can—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I had a request to make to you, and for that purpose +I came hither; because when I quitted Paris I +knew nothing of your danger."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then speak,—pray do!"</p> + +<p>"I dare not."</p> + +<p>"Dare not,—after all you have done for me?"</p> + +<p>"No; for then it would appear as though I claimed +a right to be rewarded."</p> + +<p>"A right to be rewarded? And have you not already +earned that right? Do I not already owe you much? +And did you not tend my sick bed with unfailing watchfulness, +both night and day during my illness of the +past year?"</p> + +<p>"Are you not 'my man,—my own dear man?'"</p> + +<p>"And for the reason that I am and ever shall be +'your man,' are you not bound to speak openly and +candidly to me?"</p> + +<p>"For ever, Martial?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for ever; as true as my name is Martial. I +shall never care for any other woman in the world but +you, my brave Louve. Never mind what you may have +been, or what you may have done; that is nobody's +affair but mine. I love you, and you love me; and, +moreover, I owe you my life. But somehow, do you +know, since you have been in prison I have not been like +the same person. All sorts of fresh thoughts have come +into my mind. I have thought it well over, and I have +resolved that you shall no more be what you have been."</p> + +<p>"What can you mean?"</p> + +<p>"That I will never more quit you; neither will I part +from François and Amandine."</p> + +<p>"Your young sister and brother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; from this day forward I must be as a second +father to these poor children. Don't you see, by imposing +on myself fresh duties, I am compelled to alter and +amend what is amiss in my way of conducting myself? +But I consider it my positive task to take charge of +these young things, or they will be made artful thieves. +And the only way to save them is to take them from +here."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where to?"</p> + +<p>"That I know not; but certainly far from Paris."</p> + +<p>"And me?"</p> + +<p>"You? Why, of course, you go with me!"</p> + +<p>"With you?" exclaimed La Louve, with joyful surprise,—she +could not credit the reality of such happiness. +"And shall I never again be parted from +you?"</p> + +<p>"No, my brave girl—never! You will help me to +bring up my little sister and young brother. I know your +heart. When I say to you, 'I greatly wish my poor +little Amandine to grow up a virtuous and industrious +woman. Just talk to her about it, and show her what +to do,' I am quite sure and certain that you will be to +her all the best mother could be to her own child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thanks, Martial,—thanks, thanks!"</p> + +<p>"We shall live like honest workpeople. Never fear +but we shall find work; for we will toil like slaves to +content our employers; but, at least, these children will +not be depraved and degraded beings like their parents. +I shall not continually hear myself taunted with my +father and brother's disgraceful end, neither shall I go +through streets where you are known. But what is the +matter,—what ails you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Martial, I feel as though I should go mad."</p> + +<p>"Mad!—for what?"</p> + +<p>"For joy."</p> + +<p>"And why should you go mad with joy?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because,—it is too much—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that what you propose is too great happiness +for one like me to hope for. Oh, indeed, indeed, it is +more than I can bear! But who knows? Perhaps saving +La Goualeuse has brought me good luck,—that's +it, I am sure and certain."</p> + +<p>"Still, I ask you, what is the matter, and why are you +thus agitated?" exclaimed Martial.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Martial, Martial, the very thing you have been +proposing—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I was going to ask you."</p> + +<p>"To quit Paris?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied she, in a hurried tone; "and to try +your consent to accompany you to the forests, where we +should have a nice, neat little house, and children whom +I should love as La Louve would the children of her man—or, +if you would permit me," continued La Louve, in a +faltering voice, "instead of calling you 'my man,' to say +'my husband?' For," added she, confusedly and rapidly, +"for without that change, we should not obtain the place."</p> + +<p>Martial, in his turn, regarded La Louve with deep +astonishment, unable to comprehend her meaning.</p> + +<p>"What place are you speaking of?" said he, at +length.</p> + +<p>"Of that of gamekeeper."</p> + +<p>"That I should have?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And who would give it to me?"</p> + +<p>"The protector of the young girl I saved."</p> + +<p>"They do not know me."</p> + +<p>"But I have told her all about you, and she will +recommend us to her protector."</p> + +<p>"And what have you told her about me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Martial, can you not guess? Of what could I +speak but of your goodness—and my love for you?"</p> + +<p>"My excellent Louve!"</p> + +<p>"And then, you know, being in prison together makes +folks talk to each other, and open their hearts in the +way of confidence. Besides which, there was something +so gentle and engaging about this young creature, that I +could not help feeling drawn towards her, even in spite +of myself; for I very quickly discovered she was a very +different person to such as you and I have been used to."</p> + +<p>"And who is she?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know not, neither can I guess; but certainly I +never met with any one like her. Bless you, she can +read the very thoughts of your heart, the same as if she +were a fairy. I merely told her of my love for you, and +she immediately interested herself in us. She made me +feel ashamed of my past life; not by saying harsh and +severe things,—you know very well that would not +have done much good with me,—but by talking of +the pleasures of a life passed in hard but peaceful +labour, tranquilly within the quiet shades of deep +forests, where you might be occupied according to your +tastes and inclinations; only, instead of your being a +poacher, she made you a gamekeeper, and in place of +my being only your mistress, she pictured me as your +true and lawful wife. And then we were to have fine, +healthy children who ran joyfully to meet you when you +returned at night, followed by your faithful dogs, and +carrying your gun on your shoulder. Then we all sat +down so gay and happy, to eat our supper beneath the +cool shade of the large trees that overhung our cottage +door, while the fresh wind blew, and the moon peeped at +us from amongst the thick branches, and the little ones +prattled and you related to us all you had seen and done +during the day, while wandering in the forests; until, +at last, cheerful and contented, we retired to rest, to rise +the following day, and with light hearts to recommence +our labours. I cannot tell you how it was, but I listened +and listened to these delightful pictures till I quite believed +in their reality. I seemed bound by a spell when +she spoke of happiness like this, though I tried ever so +much against it. I always found it impossible to disbelieve +that it would surely come to pass. Oh, but you +have no idea how beautifully she described it all! I +fancied I saw it—you—our children—our forest +home. I rubbed my eyes, but it was ever before them, +although a waking dream."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes!" said Martial, sighing; "that would, indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +be a sweet and pleasant life! Without being +bad at heart, poor François has been quite enough in the +society of Calabash and Nicholas to make it far better +he should dwell in the solitude of woods and forests, +rather than be exposed to the further contamination of +great towns. Amandine would help you in your household +duties, and I should make a capital gamekeeper, +from the very fact of my having been a poacher of some +notoriety. I should have you for my housekeeper and +companion, my good Louve; and then, as you know, we +should have our children also. Bless their little hearts, +I doubt not our having a fine flock about us! And what +more could we wish for or desire? When once we got +used to a forest life, it would seem as though we had +always lived there; and fifty or a hundred years would +glide away like a single day. But you must not talk to +me of such happiness; it makes one so full of sadness +and regrets that it cannot be realised. No, no, don't let +us ever mention it again; because, don't you see, La +Louve, it comes over one like—I should soon work +myself up to madness if I allowed my thoughts to dwell +on it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Martial, I let you go on because I thought I was +quite as bad myself. I said just those very words to La +Goualeuse."</p> + +<p>"Did you, really?"</p> + +<p>"I did, indeed. For, after listening to all these tales +of enchantment, I said to her, 'What a pity, La Goualeuse, +that these castles in the air, as you call them, are +not true!' And what do you think, Martial," asked La +Louve, her eyes flashing with joy, "what do you think +she answered me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"'Why,' said she, 'only let Martial marry you, and +give me your promise to live honestly and virtuously +henceforward, and directly I quit the prison I will exert +myself to get the place I have been speaking of for him.'"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get me a gamekeeper's place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I declare to you, Martial, she said so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but as you say, that can be but a dream—a +mere fancy. If, indeed, nothing were requisite for our +obtaining the place but our being married, my good girl, +that should be done to-morrow, if I had the means; +though, from this very day and hour, I consider you as +my true and lawful wife."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Martial! I your lawful wife?"</p> + +<p>"The only woman who shall ever bear that title. +And, for the future, I wish you to call me 'husband;' +for such I am in word and heart, as firmly and lastingly +as though we had been before the <i>maire</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, La Goualeuse was right. A woman feels so +proud and happy to say 'My husband!' Oh, Martial, +you shall see what a good, faithful, devoted wife I will +be to you; how hard I will work! Oh, I shall be so +delighted to labour for you!"</p> + +<p>"And do you really think there is any chance of our +getting this place?"</p> + +<p>"If the poor dear Goualeuse deceives herself about it, +it is that others deceive her; for she seemed quite sure +of being able to fulfil her promises. And besides, when +I was quitting the prison a little while ago, the inspectress +told me that the protectors of La Goualeuse, who +were people of rank and consequence, had removed her +from confinement that very day. Now that proved +her having powerful friends; so that she can keep her +word to us if she likes."</p> + +<p>"But," cried Martial, suddenly rising, "I don't know +what we have been thinking of all this time!"</p> + +<p>"Thinking about—what do you mean, Martial?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the poor girl you saved from drowning is +down-stairs—perhaps dying; and, instead of rendering +her any assistance, we are attending to our own affairs +up-stairs."</p> + +<p>"Make yourself perfectly easy; François and Amandine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +are there watching her, and they would have come +to call us had there been any danger or necessity. +Still you are right; let us go to her. You must see her +to whom we shall, perhaps, owe all our future happiness."</p> + +<p>And Martial, supported by La Louve, descended to the +lower part of the house. Before they have reached +the kitchen, let us in a few words describe what had +occurred there from the time when Fleur-de-Marie had +been confided to the charge of the two children.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<h5>DOCTOR GRIFFON.</h5> + + +<p>François and Amandine had contrived to convey +Fleur-de-Marie near the fire, when M. de Saint-Remy +and Doctor Griffon, who had crossed the river in +Nicholas's boat, entered the house. Whilst the children +were making the fire burn up, Doctor Griffon +bestowed on the young girl his utmost care.</p> + +<p>"The poor girl cannot be more than seventeen at +most!" exclaimed the count, who was looking on. +"What do you think of her, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Her pulse is scarcely perceptible; but, strange to +say, the skin of the face is not livid in the subject, as is +usually the case in asphyxia from submersion," replied +the doctor, with professional calmness, and contemplating +Fleur-de-Marie with a deeply meditative air.</p> + +<p>Doctor Griffon was a tall, thin man, pallid and completely +bald, except two tufts of thin black hair, carefully +brushed back on the poll, and flattened on the temples. +His countenance, wrinkled and furrowed by the fatigues +of study, was calm, intelligent, and reflective. Profoundly +learned, of great experience, and a skilful +practitioner, first surgeon at a civil hospital, where +we shall again encounter him, Doctor Griffon had but +one defect, that of completely abstracting himself from +the patient, and only considering the disease. Young or +old, rich or poor, was no matter,—he only thought of +medical fact, more or less remarkable, which the subject +presented. For him there was nothing but subjects.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What a lovely face! How beautiful she is in spite +of this frightful paleness!" said M. de Saint-Remy. +"Did you ever see milder or more expressive features, +my dear doctor? And so young—so young!"</p> + +<p>"Age is no consequence," said the doctor, abruptly, +"no more than the presence of water in the lungs, +which was formerly thought fatal. It was a gross +error, which the admirable experiments of Goodwin—the +famous Goodwin—incontestably detected and +exposed."</p> + +<p>"But doctor—"</p> + +<p>"But it is a fact," replied M. Griffon, absorbed by the +love of his art. "To detect the presence of any foreign +liquid in the lungs, Goodwin plunged some cats and dogs +several times into tubs filled with ink for some seconds, +taking them out alive, and then, after a time, dissected +the animals. Well, he was convinced from the dissection +that the ink had penetrated the lungs, and +that the presence of this liquid in the respiratory +organs had not caused the death of the subject."</p> + +<p>The count knew the doctor was a worthy creature at +heart, but that his mad passion for science made him +often appear harsh and cruel.</p> + +<p>"Have you any hope?" inquired M. de Saint-Remy, +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"The extremities of the subject are very cold," said +the doctor; "there is but very slight hope."</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor child! To die at that age is indeed +terrible!"</p> + +<p>"Pupil fixed—dilated!" observed the doctor, impassive, +and pushing up the frigid eyelid of Fleur-de-Marie +with his forefinger.</p> + +<p>"What a singular man!" exclaimed the comte, almost +with indignation. "One would suppose you pitiless, and +yet I have seen you watch by my bedside for nights +together. Had I been your brother, you could not have +been more generously devoted to me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + +<p>Doctor Griffon, still occupied in doing all that was +requisite and possible for Fleur-de-Marie, replied to the +comte without looking at him, and with imperturbable +phlegm:</p> + +<p>"<i>Parbleu!</i> Do you think one meets with an intermittent +fever so wonderfully complicated as that you +had! It was wonderful, my dear friend—astonishing! +Stupor, delirium, muscular action of the tendons, syncopes,—that +important fever combined the most varied +symptoms. You were, indeed, affected by a partial and +momentary attack of paralysis; and, if it had presented +nothing else, why, your attack was entitled to all the +attention in my power. You presented a magnificent +study; and, truth to say, my dear friend, what I desire +most in the world is to meet with such another glorious +fever. But that is a piece of good fortune that never +occurs twice!"</p> + +<p>At this moment Martial descended, leaning on the +arm of La Louve, who still retained over her wet clothes +the plaid cloak which belonged to Calabash. Struck +with the paleness of Martial, and remarking his hands +covered with dried blood, the comte exclaimed, "Who is +this man?"</p> + +<p>"My husband!" replied La Louve, looking at Martial +with an expression of happiness and noble pride impossible +to describe.</p> + +<p>"You have a good and intrepid wife, sir," said the +comte to him. "I saw her save this unfortunate young +girl with singular courage."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, my wife is good and intrepid," replied +Martial, with emphasis, and regarding La Louve with an +air at once full of love and tenderness. "Yes, intrepid; +for she has also come in time to save my life."</p> + +<p>"Your life?" exclaimed the comte.</p> + +<p>"Look at his hands—his poor hands!" said La +Louve, wiping away the tears which softened the wild +brightness of her eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Horrible!" cried the comte. "See, doctor, how his +hands are hacked!"</p> + +<p>Doctor Griffon, turning his head slightly, and looking +over his shoulder at Martial's hands, said to him, "Open +and shut your hand."</p> + +<p>Martial did so with considerable pain. The doctor +shrugged his shoulders, and continued his attentions +to Fleur-de-Marie, saying merely, and as if with +regret:</p> + +<p>"There's nothing serious in those cuts,—there's no +tendon injured. In a week the subject will be able to +use his hands again."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, my husband will not be crippled?" said +La Louve, with gratitude.</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head affirmatively.</p> + +<p>"And La Goualeuse will recover—won't she, sir?" +inquired La Louve. "Oh, she must live, for I and my +husband owe her so much!" Then turning towards +Martial, "Poor dear girl! There she is, as I told you,—she +who will, perhaps, be the cause of our happiness; +for it was she who gave me the idea of coming and saying +to you all I have said. What a chance that I should +save her—and here, too!"</p> + +<p>"She is a providence," said Martial, struck by the +beauty of La Goualeuse. "What an angel's face! Oh, +she will recover, will she not, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say," replied the doctor. "But, in the first +place, can she remain here? Will she have all necessary +attention?"</p> + +<p>"Here?" cried La Louve; "why, they commit +murder here!"</p> + +<p>"Silence—silence!" said Martial.</p> + +<p>The comte and the doctor looked at La Louve with +surprise.</p> + +<p>"This house in the isle has a bad reputation hereabouts, +and I am not astonished at it," observed the +doctor, in a low tone, to M. de Saint-Remy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have, then, been the victim of some violence?" +observed the comte to Martial. "How did you come by +those wounds?"</p> + +<p>"They are nothing—nothing, sir. I had a quarrel—a +struggle ensued, and I was wounded. But this +young peasant girl cannot remain in this house," he +added, with a gloomy air. "I cannot remain here myself—nor +my wife, nor my brother, nor my sister, whom +you see. We are going to leave the isle, never to return +to it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how nice!" exclaimed the two children.</p> + +<p>"Then what are we to do?" said the doctor, looking +at Fleur-de-Marie. "It is impossible to think of conveying +the subject to Paris in her present state of +prostration. But then my house is quite close at hand, +my gardener's wife and her daughter are capital nurses; +and since this asphyxia by submersion interests you, +my dear Saint-Remy, why, you can watch over the +necessary attentions, and I will come and see her every +day."</p> + +<p>"And you assume the harsh and pitiless man," +exclaimed the comte, "when, as your proposal proves, +you have one of the noblest hearts in the world!"</p> + +<p>"If the subject sinks under it, as is possible, there +will be an opportunity for a most interesting dissection, +which will allow me to confirm once again Goodwin's +assertions."</p> + +<p>"How horridly you talk!" cried the comte.</p> + +<p>"For those who know how to read, the dead body is +a book in which they learn to save the lives of the +diseased!" replied Dr. Griffon, stoically.</p> + +<p>"At last, then, you do good?" said M. de Saint-Remy, +with bitterness; "and that is important. What +consequence is the cause provided that benefit results? +Poor child! The more I look at her the more she +interests me."</p> + +<p>"And well does she deserve it, I can tell you, sir,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +observed La Louve, with excitement, and approaching +him.</p> + +<p>"Do you know her?" inquired the comte.</p> + +<p>"Do I know her, sir? Why, it is to her I owe the +happiness of my life; and I have not done for her half +what she has done for me." And La Louve looked +passionately towards her husband,—she no longer called +him her man!</p> + +<p>"And who is she?" asked M. de Saint-Remy.</p> + +<p>"An angel, sir,—all that is good in this world. +Yes; and although she is dressed as a country girl, +there is no merchant's wife, no great lady, who can discourse +as well as she can, with her sweet little voice +just like music. She is a noble girl, I say,—full of +courage and goodness."</p> + +<p>"By what accident did she fall into the water?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then she is not a peasant girl?" asked the comte.</p> + +<p>"A peasant girl,—look at her small white hands, +sir!"</p> + +<p>"True," observed M. de Saint-Remy; "what a strange +mystery! But her name—her family?"</p> + +<p>"Come along," said the doctor, breaking into the +conversation; "we must convey the subject into the +boat."</p> + +<p>Half an hour after this, Fleur-de-Marie, who had not +yet recovered her senses, was in the doctor's abode, +lying in a good bed, and maternally watched by M. +Griffon's gardener's wife, to whom was added La Louve. +The doctor promised M. de Saint-Remy, who was more +and more interested in La Goualeuse, to return to see +her again in the evening. Martial went to Paris with +François and Amandine, La Louve being unwilling to +quit Fleur-de-Marie before she had been pronounced out +of danger.</p> + +<p>The Isle du Ravageur remained deserted. We shall +presently find its sinister inhabitants at Bras-Rouge's,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +where they were to be joined by the Chouette for the +murder of the diamond-matcher. In the meantime we +will conduct the reader to the rendezvous which Tom, +Sarah's brother, had with the horrible hag, the Schoolmaster's +accomplice.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + +<h5>THE PORTRAIT.</h5> + + +<p>Thomas Seyton, the brother of the Countess Sarah +Macgregor, was walking impatiently on the boulevards +near the Observatory, when he saw the Chouette arrive. +The horrible beldame had on a white cap and her usual +plaid shawl. The point of a stiletto, as round as a thick +swan's quill, and very sharp, having perforated a hole +at the bottom of her large straw basket which she carried +on her arm, the extremity of this murderous weapon, +which had belonged to the Schoolmaster, might be seen +projecting. Thomas Seyton did not perceive that the +Chouette was armed.</p> + +<p>"It has just struck three by the Luxembourg," said the +old woman. "Here I am, like the hand of the clock."</p> + +<p>"Come," replied Thomas Seyton. And, preceding +her, he crossed some open fields; and turning down a +deserted alley near the Rue Cassini, he stopped half way +down the lane, which was barred by a turnstile, opened +a small door, motioned to the Chouette to follow him; +and, after having advanced with her a few steps down +a path overgrown by thick trees, he said, "Wait here," +and disappeared.</p> + +<p>"That is, if you don't keep me on the 'waiting lay' +too long," responded the Chouette; "for I must be at +Bras Rouge's at five o'clock to meet the Martials, and +help silence the diamond-matcher. It's very well I have +my 'gulley' (poniard). Oh, the vagabond, he has got +his nose out of window!" added the hag, as she saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +the point of the stiletto coming through the seam in the +basket. And taking the weapon, which had a wooden +handle, from the basket, she replaced it so that it was +completely concealed. "This is <i>fourline's</i> tool," she +continued, "and he has asked me for it so many times +to kill the rats who came skipping about him in his +cellar. Poor things! They have no one but the old +blind man to divert them and keep them company. +They ought not to be hurt if they play about a bit; and +so I will not let him hurt the dears, and I keep his tool +to myself. Besides, I shall soon want it for this woman, +perhaps. Thirty thousand francs' worth of diamonds,—what +a 'haul' for each of us! It'll be a good day's +work, and not like that of the other day with that old +notary whom I thought to squeeze. It was no use to +threaten him if he would not 'stand some blunt' that I +would lay information that it was his housekeeper who +had sent La Goualeuse to me by Tournemine when she +was a little brat. Nothing frightened the old brute, he +called me an old hag, and shoved me out-of-doors. +Well, well, I'll send an anonymous letter to these people +at the farm where Pegriotte was, to inform them +that it was the notary who formerly abandoned her to +me. Perhaps they know her family; and when she gets +out of St. Lazare, why, the matter will get too hot for +that old brute, Jacques Ferrand. Some one comes,—ah, +it is the pale lady who was dressed in men's clothes at +the <i>tapis-franc</i> of the ogress, and with the tall fellow +who just left me, the same that the <i>fourline</i> and I robbed +by the excavations near Notre-Dame," added the Chouette, +as she saw Sarah appear at the extremity of the +walk. "Here's another job for me, I see; and this +little lady must have something to do with our having +carried off La Goualeuse from the farm. If she pays +well for another job of work, why, that will be 'the +ticket.'"</p> + +<p>As Sarah approached the Chouette, whom she saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +again for the first time since their rencontre at the <i>tapis-franc</i>, +her countenance expressed the disdain, the disgust, +which persons of a certain rank feel when they +come in contact with low wretches whom they take as +tools or accomplices.</p> + +<p>Thomas Seyton, who, until now, had actively served +the criminal machinations of his sister, although he considered +them as all but futile, had refused any longer to +continue this contemptible part, consenting, nevertheless, +for the first and last time to put his sister in +communication with the Chouette, without himself interfering +in the fresh projects they might plan. The +countess, unable to win back Rodolph to her by breaking +the bonds or the affections which she believed so dear to +him, hoped, as we have seen, to render him the dupe of +a base deceit, the success of which might realise the +vision of this obstinate, ambitious, and cruel woman. +Her design was to persuade Rodolph that their daughter +was not dead, and to substitute an orphan for the child.</p> + +<p>We know that Jacques Ferrand—having formally +refused to participate in this plot in spite of Sarah's +menaces—had resolved to make away with Fleur-de-Marie, +as much from the fear of the Chouette's disclosure, +as from fear of the obstinate persistence of the countess. +But the latter had by no means abandoned her design, +feeling persuaded that she should corrupt or intimidate +the notary when she should be assured of having obtained +a young girl capable of filling the character which +she desired her to assume.</p> + +<p>After a moment's silence Sarah said to the Chouette, +"You are adroit, discreet, and resolute?"</p> + +<p>"Adroit as a monkey, resolute as a bulldog, and mute +as a fish; such is the Chouette, and such the devil made +her; at your service if you want her,—and you do," +replied the old wretch, quickly. "I hope we have +managed well with the young country wench who is now +in St. Lazare for two good months."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We are not talking of her, but of something +else."</p> + +<p>"Anything you please, my handsome lady, provided +there's money at the end of what you mean to propose, +and then we shall be as right as my fingers."</p> + +<p>Sarah could not control a movement of disgust. "You +must know," she resumed, "many people in the lower +ranks of life,—persons who are in misfortune?"</p> + +<p>"There are more of them than there are of millionaires; +you may pick and choose. We have plentiful +wretchedness in Paris."</p> + +<p>"I want to meet with a poor orphan girl, and particularly +if she lost her parents young. She must be +good-looking, of gentle disposition, and not more than +seventeen years of age."</p> + +<p>The Chouette gazed at Sarah with amazement.</p> + +<p>"Such an orphan girl must be by no means difficult +to meet with," continued the countess; "there are so +many foundling children!"</p> + +<p>"Why, my good lady, you forget La Goualeuse. She +is the very thing."</p> + +<p>"Who is La Goualeuse?"</p> + +<p>"The young thing we carried off from Bouqueval."</p> + +<p>"We are not talking of her now, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"But hear me, and be sure you pay me well for my +advice. You want an orphan girl, as quiet as a lamb, +as handsome as daylight, and who is only seventeen, you +say?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, take La Goualeuse when she leaves St. +Lazare; she is the very thing for you, as if we had +made her on purpose. For she was about six years of +age when that scamp, Jacques Ferrand (and it's now +ten years ago), gave her to me with a thousand francs, +in order to get rid of her,—that is to say, it was Tournemine, +who is now at the galleys at Rochefort, who +brought her to me, saying there was no doubt she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +some child they wanted to get rid of or pass off for +dead."</p> + +<p>"Jacques Ferrand, do you say?" exclaimed Sarah, +in a voice so choked that the Chouette receded several +paces. "The notary, Jacques Ferrand, gave you this +child—and—?" She could not finish, her emotion +was too violent; and with her two clasped hands extended +towards the Chouette, she trembled convulsively, +surprise and joy agitating her features.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what it is that makes you so much in +earnest, my good lady," replied the old hag; "but it is +a very simple story. Ten years ago Tournemine, an old +pal of mine, said to me: 'Have you a mind to take +charge of a little girl that they want to get out of the +way? No matter whether she slips her wind or not. +There's a thousand francs for the job, and do what you +like with the 'kinchin.'"</p> + +<p>"Ten years ago?" cried Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Ten years."</p> + +<p>"A little fair girl?"</p> + +<p>"A little fair girl."</p> + +<p>"With blue eyes?"</p> + +<p>"Blue eyes—as blue as blue bells."</p> + +<p>"And it was she who was at the farm?"</p> + +<p>"And we packed her up and carted her off to St. Lazare. +I must say, though, that I didn't expect to find her—Pegriotte—in +the country as I did, though."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>mon Dieu!</i> <i>mon Dieu!</i>" exclaimed Sarah, falling +on her knees, and elevating her hands and eyes to +heaven, "Thy ways are inscrutable, and I bow down before +thy providence! Oh, if such happiness be possible! +But, no, I cannot yet believe it; it would be too fortunate! +No!" Then rising suddenly she said to the +Chouette, who was gazing at her with the utmost astonishment, +"Follow me!" And Sarah walked before her +with hasty steps.</p> + +<p>At the end of the alley she ascended several steps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +that led by a glass door to a small room sumptuously +furnished. At the moment when the Chouette was +about to enter, Sarah made a sign to her to remain +outside, and then rang the bell violently. A servant +appeared.</p> + +<p>"I am not at home to anybody, and let no one enter +here,—no one, do you hear?"</p> + +<p>The servant bowed and retired. Sarah, for the +sake of greater security, pushed to the bolt. The +Chouette heard the order given to the servant, and +saw Sarah fasten the bolt. The countess then turning +towards her, said: "Come in quickly, and shut the +door."</p> + +<p>The Chouette did as she was bidden.</p> + +<p>Hastily opening a <i>secrétaire</i>, Sarah took from it an +ebony coffer, which she placed on a writing-table in the +centre of the room, and beckoned the Chouette towards +her. The coffer was filled with small caskets lying one +upon the other, and containing splendid jewelry. Sarah +was in so much haste to arrive at the bottom of the +coffer, that she hastily scattered over the table these +jewel-cases, splendidly filled with necklaces, bracelets, +tiaras of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, which sparkled +with a thousand fires.</p> + +<p>The Chouette was dazzled. She was armed, was alone +with the countess; escape was easy—certain. An infernal +idea shot through the brain of this monster. But +to put this new crime into execution it was necessary to +extricate her stiletto from her basket, and approach +Sarah without exciting her suspicions.</p> + +<p>With the craft of the tiger-cat, who grovels along +treacherously towards its prey, the beldame profited by +the countess's preoccupation to move imperceptibly around +the table which separated her from her victim. The +Chouette had already begun her perfidious movement, +when she was compelled suddenly to stop short. Sarah +took a locket from the bottom of the box, leaned over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +the table, and, handing it to the Chouette with a trembling +hand, said:</p> + +<p>"Look at this portrait."</p> + +<p>"It is Pegriotte!" exclaimed the Chouette, struck +with the strong resemblance; "it is the little girl who +was handed to me! I think I see her just as she was +when Tournemine brought her to me. That's just like +her long curling hair, which I cut off and sold directly, +<i>ma foi!</i>"</p> + +<p>"You recognise her; it is really she? Oh, I conjure +you, do not deceive me—do not deceive me!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you, my good lady, it is Pegriotte, as if I saw +herself there," said the Chouette, trying to draw nearer +to Sarah without being remarked. "And even now she +is very like this portrait; if you saw her you would be +struck by the likeness."</p> + +<p>Sarah had not uttered one cry of pain or alarm when +she learned that her daughter had been for ten years +leading a wretched existence, forsaken as she was. Not +one feeling of remorse was there when she reflected that +she herself had snatched her away disastrously from the +peaceful retreat in which Rodolph had placed her. This +unnatural mother did not eagerly question the Chouette +with terrible anxiety as to the past life of the child. +No! In her heart ambition had long since stifled every +sentiment of maternal tenderness. It was not joy at +again being restored to a lost daughter that transported +her,—it was the hope of seeing at length realised the +vain dream of her whole existence. Rodolph had felt +deeply interested in this unfortunate girl, had protected +her without knowing her; what would then be his feelings +when he discovered that she was—his daughter? +He was free—the countess was a widow! Sarah +already saw the sovereign crown sparkling on her +brow.</p> + +<p>The Chouette, still stealing on with slow steps, had at +length reached one end of the table, and had her stiletto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +perpendicularly in her basket, its handle on a level with +the opening, and within her clutch. She was but a step +or two from the countess.</p> + +<p>"Do you know how to write?" inquired Sarah of her; +and, pushing from her the casket and gems, she opened +a blotting-book, which was by an inkstand.</p> + +<p>"No, madame; I do not!" replied the Chouette, at +all risks.</p> + +<p>"I will write, then, at your dictation. Tell me all +the circumstances of the abandonment of this little +girl."</p> + +<p>And Sarah, sitting in an armchair before the writing-table, +took up a pen, and made a sign to the Chouette to +come close to her. The old wretch's one eye sparkled. +At last she was standing up, close to the seat on which +Sarah was sitting, and, stooping over a table, was preparing +to write.</p> + +<p>"I will read aloud, and then," said the countess, "you +can correct any mistakes."</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame," replied the Chouette, narrowly +watching every motion of Sarah; and she furtively +introduced her hand into her basket, that she might +be able to grasp the poniard without being observed.</p> + +<p>The countess commenced writing.</p> + +<p>"I declare that—"</p> + +<p>Then interrupting herself, and turning towards the +Chouette, who was at the moment touching the handle +of her poniard, Sarah added:</p> + +<p>"At what period was the child brought to you?"</p> + +<p>"In the month of February, 1827."</p> + +<p>"And by whom?" continued Sarah, turning towards +the Chouette.</p> + +<p>"By Pierre Tournemine, now at the galleys at +Rochefort. It was Madame Séraphin, the notary's +housekeeper, who brought the young girl to him."</p> + +<p>The countess continued writing, and then read +aloud:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I declare that, in the month of February, 1827, a +person named—"</p> + +<p>The Chouette had drawn the poniard; already had +she raised her arm to strike her victim between the +shoulders; Sarah turned again. The Chouette, that +she might not be off her guard, leaned her right +hand, armed as it was, on the back of Sarah's armchair, +and then stooped towards her, as if in attitude +to reply to her question.</p> + +<p>"Tell me again the name of the man who handed the +child to you?" said the countess.</p> + +<p>"Pierre Tournemine," repeated Sarah, as she wrote it +down, "at this time at the galleys of Rochefort, brought +me a child, which had been confided to him by the +housekeeper of—"</p> + +<p>The countess could not finish. The Chouette having +got rid of her basket by allowing it to slide from her +arm onto the floor, threw herself on the countess with +equal fury and rapidity; and having grasped the back +of her neck with her left hand, forced her face down on +the table, and then with her right hand drove the +stiletto in between her two shoulders.</p> + +<p>This atrocious assassination was so promptly effected +that the countess did not utter a cry—a moan. Still +sitting, she remained with her head and the front +of her body on the table. Her pen fell from her +fingers.</p> + +<p>"Just the very blow which <i>fourline</i> gave the little old +man in the Rue du Roule!" said the monster. "One +more who will never wag tongue again! Her account +is settled!" And the Chouette, gathering up the jewels +together, huddled them into her basket, not perceiving +that her victim still breathed.</p> + +<p>The murder and robbery effected, the horrid old +devil opened the glass door, ran swiftly along the tree-covered +path, went out by the small side door, and +reached the lone tract of ground. Near the Observatory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +she took a hackney-coach, which drove her to +Bras-Rouge's in the Champs Elysées.</p> + +<p>The widow Martial, Nicholas, Calabash, and Barbillon +had, as we know, an appointment with the Chouette in +this den of infamy, in order to rob and murder the +diamond-matcher.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> + +<h5>THE AGENT OF SAFETY.</h5> + + +<p>The reader already knows the Bleeding Heart in the +Champs Elysées, near the Court de la Reine, in one of +the deep ditches which, a few years since, were close +to this promenade. The inhabitants of the Isle du +Ravageur had not yet arrived.</p> + +<p>After the departure of Bradamanti, who had, as we +know, accompanied Madame d'Harville's stepmother +into Normandy, Tortillard had returned to his father. +Placed as a sentinel at the top of the staircase, the little +cripple was to announce the arrival of the Martials by +a certain cry, Bras-Rouge being at this moment in secret +conference with an <i>agent-de-sûreté</i> named Narcisse Borel, +whom the reader may perchance remember to have seen +at the <i>tapis-franc</i> of the ogress, when he came there to +arrest two miscreants accused of murder.</p> + +<p>This agent, a man about forty years of age, was thickset +and powerful, with a high colour, a keen, quick eye, +his face entirely shaven, in order that he might better +assume the various disguises necessary for his dangerous +expeditions; for it was frequently necessary for him to +unite the transformations of the actor to the courage and +energy of the soldier, in order to seize on certain ruffians +with whom he had to contend in cunning and determination. +Narcisse Borel was, in a word, one of the most +useful and most active instruments of that providence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +on a small scale which is modestly and commonly termed +the police.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>We will return to the conversation between Narcisse +Borel and Bras-Rouge, which appeared to be very animated.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the agent of safety; "you are accused of +profiting by your double-faced position, and of taking +with impunity a share in the booty of a band of most +dangerous malefactors, and then giving false information +respecting them to the protective police. Take +care, Bras-Rouge; for if you are detected no mercy will +be shown you!"</p> + +<p>"Alas! I know I am accused of this; and it is very +distressing for me, my good M. Narcisse," replied Bras-Rouge, +whilst his weasel's face assumed a hypocritical +air of vexation. "But I hope that this day will at last +do me justice, and my good faith will be recognised."</p> + +<p>"That remains to be proved."</p> + +<p>"How can I be distrusted—have I not given proofs? +Was it I or was it not who, at the time, enabled you to +apprehend Ambroise Martial, one of the most dangerous +malefactors in Paris, in the very fact?"</p> + +<p>"All this is very fine and good; but Ambroise was +warned they were going to arrest him, and if I had not +been earlier than the hour you told me of, he would have +escaped."</p> + +<p>"Do you think me capable, M. Narcisse, of having +secretly told him of your coming?"</p> + +<p>"I only know that I received from the scoundrel a +pistol-shot aimed full at me, but which, fortunately, only +grazed my arm."</p> + +<p>"Why, to be sure, M. Narcisse, in your profession you +must be occasionally exposed to such mistakes!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you call these mistakes, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; for, no doubt, the wicked fellow intended +to lodge the ball in your body."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In the arm, body, or head, no matter, I don't complain +of that; every profession has its disagreeables."</p> + +<p>"And its pleasures, too, M. Narcisse, and its pleasures. +For instance, when a man as cunning, as skilful, and +as courageous as you, has been for a long time on +the track of a gang of villains, whom he follows from +quarter to quarter, from lurking-place to lurking-place, +with a good bloodhound like your poor servant to command, +Bras-Rouge, and, finally, marks them down and +comes upon them in a trap from which not one of them +can escape, why, then, you must say, M. Narcisse, that +there is great pleasure in it,—the joy of a sportsman,—not +including the service he renders to justice!" added +the host of the Bleeding Heart, with a grave air.</p> + +<p>"I should fully agree with you if the bloodhound were +faithful, but I fear it is not."</p> + +<p>"Ah, M. Narcisse, you think—"</p> + +<p>"I think that, instead of putting us on the track, you +amuse yourself with setting us on a false scent, and +abuse the confidence placed in you. Every day you +promise to aid us to lay hands on the gang, and that +day never arrives."</p> + +<p>"What if the day arrives to-day, M. Narcisse, as I am +sure it will? What if I bring together in a parcel Barbillon, +Nicholas Martial, the widow, her daughter, and +the Chouette? Will that or will it not be a good +sweep of the net? Will you then mistrust me any +longer?"</p> + +<p>"No; and you will have rendered a real service; for +there are very strong presumptive facts against this +gang,—suspicions almost assured, but, unfortunately, no +proofs."</p> + +<p>"So, then, a small fag-end of actual crime, which +would allow of their being apprehended, would help +amazingly to unravel the difficult skein,—eh, M. Narcisse?"</p> + +<p>"Most decidedly. And you assure me that there has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +not been the slightest incitement on your part towards +the <i>coup</i> which they are now going to attempt?"</p> + +<p>"No, on my honour! It is the Chouette, who came +to me to propose inveigling the diamond-matcher here +when that infernal hag learned from my son that Morel, +the lapidary, who lives in the Rue du Temple, was a +workman in real stones, and not in false, and that +Mother Mathieu had frequently considerable value about +her person, I acceded to the proposition, and suggested +to the Chouette that the Martials and Barbillon should +join her, so that I might be able to put the whole party +into your hands."</p> + +<p>"And the Schoolmaster,—that fellow who is so dangerous, +so powerful, and so ferocious, and who was +always with the Chouette,—one of the frequenters of +the <i>tapis-franc</i>?"</p> + +<p>"The Schoolmaster?" said Bras-Rouge, feigning astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a convict escaped from the galleys at Rochefort, +Anselm Duresnel by name, sentenced for life. We +know now that he disfigured himself on purpose, that +he might not be recognised. Have you no trace of +him?"</p> + +<p>"None," replied Bras-Rouge, boldly, for he had his +reasons for the lie, the Schoolmaster being at this very +moment shut up in one of the cellars of the cabaret.</p> + +<p>"There is every reason to believe that the Schoolmaster +is the author of fresh murders. He would be an +important capture."</p> + +<p>"No one knows what has become of him for the last +six weeks."</p> + +<p>"And that's the reason you are reproached with +having lost all trace of him."</p> + +<p>"Always reproaches, M. Narcisse, always!"</p> + +<p>"Not for want of ample cause! And how goes on the +smuggling?"</p> + +<p>"Is it not necessary that I should know something of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> +all kinds of persons—smugglers as well as others—in +order to put you on the scent? I disclosed to you that +pipe to introduce liquids, established outside the Barrière +du Trône, and coming into a house in the street."</p> + +<p>"I know that," said Narcisse, interrupting Bras-Rouge; +"but for one that you denounce, you allow ten +to escape, and continue your traffic with impunity. I am +sure you eat at two mangers, as the saying is."</p> + +<p>"Oh, M. Narcisse, I am incapable of an appetite so +dishonest!"</p> + +<p>"That is not all: in the Rue du Temple, No. 17, +there lives a woman named Burette, who lends money +on deposit, who, they say, is a private receiver of stolen +goods on your account."</p> + +<p>"What would you have me do, M. Narcisse? The +world is so slanderous,—says so many wicked things! +Once again, I say, it is necessary for me to mix with as +many rogues as possible, that I even seem one of themselves—so +much the worse for them—in order that +they may not have any suspicions; but it cuts me to the +heart to imitate them,—cuts me to the heart. I must, +indeed, be devoted to the service, to give myself up to +such a thing as that."</p> + +<p>"Poor, dear man! I pity you with all my soul!"</p> + +<p>"You are laughing at me, M. Narcisse; but, if that +was believed, why has there not been a search made at +Mother Burette's and in my house?"</p> + +<p>"You know well enough,—that we might not alarm +the ruffians, whom, for so long a time, you have promised +to deliver into our hands."</p> + +<p>"And I am now about to deliver them, M. Narcisse; +before an hour you will have them all handcuffed, and +that without much trouble, for there are three women. +As to Barbillon and Nicholas Martial, they are as savage +as tigers, but as cowardly as pullets."</p> + +<p>"Tigers or pullets," said Narcisse, half opening his +long frock coat, and showing the butts of two pistols in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +the pockets of his trousers, "I have wherewithal here for +them."</p> + +<p>"You will do well to have two of your men with you, +M. Narcisse. When they see themselves caught, the +most cowardly sometimes show fight."</p> + +<p>"I shall station two of my men in the small parlour +at the entrance, by the side of the room into which you +are to introduce the jewel-matcher. At the first cry, I +shall appear at one door, and my two men at the other."</p> + +<p>"You must be speedy, then, for I expect the gang here +every moment, M. Narcisse."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I will go at once and place my men, provided +that all this is not another humbug."</p> + +<p>The conversation was cut short by the peculiar whistle +intended as a signal. Bras-Rouge looked out of a window +to see whom it was that Tortillard announced.</p> + +<p>"Ah, ha! It is the Chouette already. Well, do you +believe me now, M. Narcisse?"</p> + +<p>"Why, this looks something like; but it is not all. +But we shall see. And now to station my men."</p> + +<p>And the agent of safety disappeared at a side door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> + +<h5>THE CHOUETTE.</h5> + + +<p>The precipitation of the Chouette's step, the fierce +throbbings of a fever of rapine and murder which still +animated her, had suffused her hideous features with a +deep purple, whilst her green eye sparkled with savage +joy. Tortillard followed her, hopping and skipping. At +the moment when she descended the last steps of the +stairs, Bras-Rouge's son, from pure mischief, put his foot +on the long and dragging skirts of the Chouette's gown. +This sudden stoppage made the old woman stumble, and, +unable to catch hold of the baluster, she fell on her +knees, her two hands extended, and dropping her precious +basket, whence escaped a gold bracelet set with +emeralds and pearls. The Chouette having, in her fall, +somewhat excoriated her fingers, picked up the bracelet, +which had not escaped the keen sight of Tortillard, and, +recovering her feet, turned furiously to the little cripple, +who approached her with a hypocritical air, saying to +her:</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me! Did your foot slip?"</p> + +<p>Without making any reply, the Chouette seized Tortillard +by the hair, and, stooping to a level with his cheek, +she bit it with such fury that the blood spurted out beneath +her teeth. Strange, however, Tortillard, in spite +of his usual vindictiveness, in spite of feeling such intense +pain, did not utter a murmur or a cry. He only wiped his +bleeding cheek, and said, with a forced laugh:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope next time you will not kiss me so hard,—eh, +La Chouette?"</p> + +<p>"Wicked little brat! Why did you tread on my gown +on purpose to make me fall?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Oh! How could you think so? I swear I +didn't do it on purpose, my dear Chouette! Don't think +your little Tortillard would do you any harm; he loves +you too well for that. You should never beat him, or +scold him, or bite him, for he is as fond of you as if he +were a poor little dog, and you were his mistress!" said +the boy, in a gentle and insinuating tone.</p> + +<p>Deceived by Tortillard's hypocrisy, the Chouette +believed him, and replied:</p> + +<p>"Well, well, if I was wrong to bite you, why, let it go +for all the other times you have deserved it, you little +villain! But, <i>vive la joie</i>! To-day I bear no malice. +Where is your old rogue of a father?"</p> + +<p>"In the house. Shall I go and find him for you?"</p> + +<p>"No; are the Martials here?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet."</p> + +<p>"Then I have time to go down and visit <i>fourline</i>. I +want to speak to old No-Eyes."</p> + +<p>"Will you go into the Schoolmaster's cellar?" +inquired Tortillard, scarcely concealing his diabolical +delight.</p> + +<p>"What's that to you?"</p> + +<p>"To me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you ask me the question with such an odd +air."</p> + +<p>"Because I was thinking of something odd."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that you ought, at least, to have brought him +a pack of cards to pass away his time," replied Tortillard, +with a cunning look; "that would divert him a little; +now he has nothing to play at but not to be bitten by the +rats; and he always wins at that game, and after awhile +it becomes tiresome."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Chouette laughed heartily at Tortillard's wit, and +said to the cripple:</p> + +<p>"Love of a baby boy to his mammy! I do not know +any chap who has more vice than this scamp. Go and +get me a candle, that you may light me down to see <i>fourline</i>, +and you can help me to open his door. You know +that I can hardly push it by myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, no, it is so very dark in the cellar," said +Tortillard, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"What! What! You who are as wicked as devil +to be a coward? I like to see that, indeed! Go directly, +and tell your father that I shall be with him almost +immediately; that I am with <i>fourline</i>; and that we are +talking of putting up the banns for our marriage. He, +he, he!" added the disgusting wretch, grinning. "So +make haste, and you shall be bridesman, and, if you are +a good boy, you shall have my garter."</p> + +<p>Tortillard went, with a sulky air, to fetch a light. +Whilst she was waiting for him, the Chouette, perfectly +intoxicated with the success of her robbery, put her hand +into her basket to feel the precious jewels it enclosed. It +was for the purpose of temporarily concealing this treasure +that she desired to descend into the Schoolmaster's +cellar, and not, according to her habit, to enjoy the torments +of her new victim.</p> + +<p>We will presently explain why, with Bras-Rouge's +connivance, the Chouette had immured the Schoolmaster +in the very subterranean cave into which this miscreant +had formerly precipitated Rodolph.</p> + +<p>Tortillard, holding a light, now appeared at the door +of the cabaret. The Chouette followed him into the lower +room, in which opened the trap with the folding-doors, +with which we are already acquainted. Bras-Rouge's +son, sheltering the light in the hollow of his hand, and +preceding the old woman, slowly descended a stone staircase, +which led to a sharp declivity, at the end of which +was the thick door of the cellar which had so nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +proved Rodolph's grave. When he reached the bottom +of the staircase, Tortillard pretended to hesitate in +following the Chouette.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, you little vagabond, go on!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is so dark; and you go so fast, Chouette! +And, indeed, I'd rather go back again, and leave you the +light."</p> + +<p>"And then, foolish imp, how am I to open the cellar +door by myself? Will you come on?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am so frightened!"</p> + +<p>"If I begin with you! Mind—"</p> + +<p>"If you threaten me, I'll go back again!" and Tortillard +retreated several paces.</p> + +<p>"Well, listen to me, now,—be a good boy," said +the Chouette, repressing her anger, "and I'll give you +something."</p> + +<p>"Well, what?" said Tortillard, coming up to her. +"Speak to me so always, and I'll do anything you wish +me, Mother Chouette."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, I'm in a hurry!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but promise me that I may have some fun +with the Schoolmaster."</p> + +<p>"Another time; I haven't time to-day."</p> + +<p>"Only a little bit,—just let me tease him for five +minutes?"</p> + +<p>"Another time; I tell you that I want to return +up-stairs as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p>"Why, then, do you want to open the door of his +apartment?"</p> + +<p>"That's no affair of yours. Come, now, have done +with this. Perhaps the Martials are come by this +time, and I must have some talk with them. So be +a good boy, and you sha'n't be sorry for it. Come +along."</p> + +<p>"I must love you very much, Chouette, for you +make me do just what you like," said Tortillard, slowly +advancing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> + +<p>The dim, wavering light of the candle, which but +imperfectly lighted this gloomy way, reflected the black +profile of this hideous brat on the slimy walls, which +were full of crevices and reeking with damp. At the +end of this passage, through the half obscurity, might +be seen the low and crumbling arch of the entrance to +the cellar, the thick door strengthened with iron bars, +and, standing out in the shade, the red shawl and white +cap of the Chouette.</p> + +<p>By the united exertions of the two, the door opened +harshly on its rusty hinges; a puff of humid vapour +escaped from this den, as dark as midnight. The light, +placed on the ground, threw its faint beams on the first +steps of the stone staircase, the bottom of which was +completely lost in the darkness. A cry, or, rather, a +savage roar, came from the depths of the cave.</p> + +<p>"Ah, there's <i>fourline</i> wishing his mamma good-morning!" +said the Chouette, with a sneer.</p> + +<p>And she descended several steps, in order to conceal +her basket in some hole.</p> + +<p>"I'm hungry!" exclaimed the Schoolmaster, in a +voice that shook with rage; "do you wish to kill me +like a mad dog?"</p> + +<p>"What's the deary lovey hungry?" said the Chouette, +with a laugh of mockery; "then smell its +thumb."</p> + +<p>There was a sound like that of a chain twisted violently; +then a groan of mute, repressed passion.</p> + +<p>"Take care! Take care, or you'll have a bump in +your leg, as you had at Bouqueval farm, poor dear pa!" +said Tortillard.</p> + +<p>"He's right, the boy is,—keep yourself quiet, <i>fourline</i>," +continued the hag; "the ring and chain are solid, +old No-Eyes, for they came from Father Micou's, and he +sells nothing but the best goods. It is your fault, too; +why did you allow yourself to be bound whilst you were +asleep? We only had then to put the ring and chain in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +this place, and bring you down here in the cool to preserve +you, old darling."</p> + +<p>"That's a pity! He'll grow mouldy," said Tortillard.</p> + +<p>Again the clank of the chain was heard.</p> + +<p>"He, he, <i>fourline</i>! Why, he's dancing like a cockchafer +tied by the claw," said the beldame, "I think I +see him!"</p> + +<p>"Cockchafer, cockchafer, fly away home! Fly, fly, +fly! Your husband is the Schoolmaster!" sung Tortillard.</p> + +<p>This increased the Chouette's hilarity. Having deposited +her basket in a hole formed by the lowering of +the wall of the staircase, she stood erect, and said:</p> + +<p>"You see, <i>fourline</i>—"</p> + +<p>"He don't see," said Tortillard.</p> + +<p>"The brat's right. Will you hear, <i>fourline</i>? There +was no occasion, when we came away from the farm, to +be such a booby as to turn compassionate, and prevent +me from marking Pegriotte's face with my vitriol; and +then, too, you talked of your conscience, which was getting +troubled. I saw you were growing lily-livered, and +meant to come the 'honest dodge;' and so, some of these +odd-come-shortlies, you would have turned 'nose' (informer), +and have 'made a meal' of us, old No-Eyes; +and then—"</p> + +<p>"Then old No-Eyes will make a meal of you, for he +is hungry, Chouette," said Tortillard, suddenly, and with +all his strength pushing the old woman by her back.</p> + +<p>The Chouette fell forward with a horrible imprecation. +She might have been distinctly heard as she rolled from +the top to the bottom of the staircase.</p> + +<p>"Bump, bump, bump, bump! There's the Chouette +for you—there she is! Why don't you jump upon her, +old buffer?" added Tortillard.</p> + +<p>Then, seizing the basket from under the stone where +he had seen the old woman place it, he scampered up the +stairs, exclaiming, with a shout of savage joy:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here's a pull worth more than that you had before,—eh, +Chouette? This time you won't bite me till the +blood comes,—eh? Ah, you thought I bore no spite—much +obliged—my cheek bleeds still!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have her! I have her!" cried the Schoolmaster, +from the depth of the cave.</p> + +<p>"If you have her, old lad, I cry snacks," said Tortillard, +with a laugh.</p> + +<p>And he stopped on the top step of the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Help!" shrieked the Chouette, in a strangling +voice.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Tortillard!" said the Schoolmaster, "thanks. +And, to reward you, you shall hear the night-bird +(Chouette) shriek! Listen, boy,—listen to the bird of +death!"</p> + +<p>"Bravo! Here I am in the dress-boxes!" said Tortillard, +seating himself on the top of the stairs.</p> + +<p>As he said this, he raised the light to endeavour to +see the fearful scene which was going on in the depths +of the cavern; but the darkness was too thick, so faint +a light could not disperse it: Bras-Rouge's son could not +see anything. The struggle with the Schoolmaster and +the Chouette was mute, deadly, without a word, without +a cry; only from time to time was heard the hard +breathing, or the stifled groan, which always accompanies +violent and desperate efforts. Tortillard, seated on +the step, began to stamp his feet with that cadence +peculiar to an audience impatient to see the beginning +of a play; then he uttered the cry so familiar to the +frequenters of the gallery of the minor theatres:</p> + +<p>"Music! Music! Play up! Up with the curtain!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, now I have hold of you, as I desired," murmured +the Schoolmaster, from the recess of the cellar; +"and you were going—"</p> + +<p>A desperate movement of the Chouette interrupted +him; she struggled with all the energy which the fear +of death inspires.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Louder! Can't hear!" bawled Tortillard.</p> + +<p>"It is in vain you try to gnaw my hand, I will hold +you as I like," said the Schoolmaster. Then, having, +no doubt, succeeded in keeping the Chouette down, he +added, "That's it! Now listen—"</p> + +<p>"Tortillard, call your father!" shrieked the Chouette, +with a faltering, exhausted voice. "Help! Help!"</p> + +<p>"Turn her out, the old thing! She won't let us +hear," said the little cripple, with a shout of laughter; +"put her out!"</p> + +<p>The Chouette's cries were not audible from this cavern, +low as it was. The wretched creature, seeing that +there was no chance of help from Bras-Rouge's son, +resolved to try a last effort.</p> + +<p>"Tortillard, go and fetch help, and I will give you +my basket; it is full of jewels. There it is, under +a stone."</p> + +<p>"How generous! Thank ye, madame. Why, haven't +I got it already? Hark! Don't you hear how it +rattles?" said Tortillard, shaking it. "But now, if +you'll give us half a pound of gingerbread nuts, I'll +go and fetch pa."</p> + +<p>"Have pity on me, and I will—"</p> + +<p>The Chouette was unable to conclude. Again there +was a profound silence. The little cripple again began +to beat time on the stone staircase on which he was +seated, accompanying the noise of his feet with the +repeated cry:</p> + +<p>"Why don't you begin? Up with the curtain! +Music! Music!"</p> + +<p>"In this way, Chouette, you can no longer disturb +me with your cries," said the Schoolmaster, after a few +minutes, during which he had, no doubt, gagged the +old woman. "You know very well," he continued, in +a slow, hollow voice, "that I do not wish to end this all +at once; torture for torture! You have made me suffer +enough, and I must speak at length to you before I kill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +you,—yes, at length. It will be very terrible for you, +agonising!"</p> + +<p>"Come, no stuff and nonsense, old parson," said Tortillard, +raising himself half up from his seat; "punish her, but +don't do her any harm. You say you'll kill her,—that's +only a hum; I am very fond of my Chouette; I have +only lent her to you, and you must give her back again. +Don't spoil her,—I won't have my Chouette spoiled,—if +you do, I'll go and fetch pa!"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, and she shall only have what she deserves, +a profitable lesson," said the Schoolmaster, in order to +assure Tortillard, and for fear the cripple should go and +fetch assistance.</p> + +<p>"All right! Bravo! Now the play's going to begin!" +said Bras-Rouge's son, who did not seriously believe that +the Schoolmaster intended to kill the Chouette.</p> + +<p>"Let us discourse a little, Chouette," continued the +Schoolmaster, in a calm voice. "In the first place, you +see, since that dream at the Bouqueval farm, which +brought all my crimes before my eyes, since that +dream, which did all but drive me mad,—which will +drive me mad, for, in my solitude, in the deep isolation +in which I live, all my thoughts dwell on this +dream, in spite of myself,—a strange change has come +over me; yes, I have a horror of my past ferocity. In +the first place, I would not allow you to make a martyr +of La Goualeuse, though that was nothing. Chaining +me here in the cellar, making me suffer from cold and +hunger, and detaining me for your wicked suggestions, +you have left me to all the fear of my own reflections. +Oh, you do not know what it is to be left alone,—always +alone,—with a dark veil over your eyes, as the pitiless +man said who punished me. Oh, it is horrid! It was +in this very cavern that I flung him, in order to kill him; +and this cavern is the place of my punishment, it may +be my grave. I repeat that this is horrid! All that +that man predicted to me has come to pass; he said to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +me, 'You have abused your strength,—you will be the +plaything, the sport of the most weak.' And it has +been so. He said to me, 'Henceforward separated from +the exterior world, face to face with the eternal remembrance +of your crimes, one day you will repent those +crimes.' And that day has come; the loneliness has +purified me; I could not have believed it possible. +Another proof that I am perhaps less wicked than +formerly, is that I feel inexpressible joy in holding +you here, monster! Not to avenge myself, but to +avenge your victims,—yes, I shall have accomplished a +duty when, with my own hands, I shall have punished +my accomplice. A voice says to me, that, if +you had fallen into my power earlier, much blood, much +blood would have been spared. I have now a horror of +my past murders; and yet, is it not strange? It is without +fear, it is even with security, that I am now about to +perpetrate on you a fearful murder, with most fearful +refinements. Say, say! Do you understand that?"</p> + +<p>"Bravo! Well played, old No-Eyes! He gets on," +exclaimed Tortillard, applauding. "It is really something +to laugh at."</p> + +<p>"To laugh at?" continued the Schoolmaster, in a +hollow voice. "Keep still, Chouette; I must complete +my explanation as to how I gradually came to repentance. +This revelation will be hateful to you, heart of +stone, and will prove to you also how remorseless +I ought to be in the vengeance which I should wreak on +you in the name of our victims. I must be quick. My +delight at grasping you thus makes my blood throb in +my veins,—my temples beat with violence, just as when, +by thinking of my dream, my reason wanders. Perhaps +one of my crises will come on; but I shall have time +to make the approaches of death frightful to you by +compelling you to hear me."</p> + +<p>"At him, Chouette!" cried Tortillard. "At him! +And reply boldly! Why, you don't know your part.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +Tell the 'old one' to prompt you, my worthy elderly +damsel."</p> + +<p>"It is useless for you to struggle and bite me," said +the Schoolmaster, after another pause. "You shall not +escape me,—you have bitten my fingers to the bone; +but I will pull your tongue out, if you stir. Let us continue +our discourse. When I have been alone—alone +in the night and silence—I have begun to experience +fits of furious, impotent rage; and, for the first time, +my senses wandered. Oh! though I was awake, I +again dreamed the dream—you know—the dream. +The little old man in the Rue du Roule, the drowned +woman, the cattle-dealer, and you—soaring over these +phantoms! I tell you it was horrible! I am blind, +and my thoughts assume a form, a body, in order to +represent to me incessantly, and in a visible, palpable +manner, the features of my victims. I should not have +dreamed this fearful vision, had not my mind, continually +absorbed by the remembrance of my past crimes, +been troubled with the same fantasies. Unquestionably, +when one is deprived of sight, the ideas that beset us +form themselves into images in the brain. Yet sometimes, +by dint of viewing them with resigned terror, it +would appear that these menacing spectres have pity on +me,—they grow dim—fade away—vanish. Then I +feel myself awakened from my horrid dream, but so +weak—cast down—prostrated—that—would you +believe it? ah, how you will laugh, Chouette!—that +I weep! Do you hear? I weep! You don't laugh? +Laugh! Laugh! Laugh, I say!"</p> + +<p>The Chouette gave a dull and stifled groan.</p> + +<p>"Louder," said Tortillard; "can't hear."</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued the Schoolmaster, "I weep, for I +suffer and rage in vain. I say to myself, 'To-morrow, +next day, for ever, I shall be a prey to the same attacks +of delirium and gloomy desolation. 'What a life! Oh, +what a life! And I would not choose death rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +than be buried alive in this abyss which incessantly +pervades my thoughts! Blind, alone, and a prisoner,—what +can relieve me from my remorse? Nothing, nothing! +When the fantasies disappear for a moment, +and do not pass and repass the black veil constantly +before my eyes, there are other tortures,—other overwhelming +reflections. I say to myself, 'If I had +remained an honest man, I should be at this moment +free, tranquil, happy, beloved, and honoured by my connections, +instead of being blind and chained in this +dungeon at the mercy of my accomplices.' Alas! the +regret of happiness lost from crime is the first step +towards repentance; and when to repentance is joined +an expiation of fearful severity,—an expiation which +changes life into a long, sleepless night, filled with +avenging hallucinations or despairing reflections,—perhaps +then man's pardon succeeds to remorse and expiation."</p> + +<p>"I say, old chap," exclaimed Tortillard, "you are +borrowing a bit from M. Moissard's part! Come, no +cribbing—gammon!"</p> + +<p>The Schoolmaster did not hear Bras-Rouge's son.</p> + +<p>"You are astonished to hear me speak thus, Chouette? +If I had continued to imbrue myself either in bloody +crimes or the fierce drunkenness of the life of the galleys, +this salutary change would never have come over +me I know full well. But alone, blind, stung with +remorse, which eats into me, of what else could I think? +Of new crimes,—how to commit them? Escape,—how +to escape? And, if I escaped, whither should I +go? What should I do with my liberty? No; I must +henceforth live in eternal night, between the anguish of +repentance and the fear of formidable apparitions which +pursue me. Sometimes, however, a faint ray of hope +comes to lighten the depth of my darkness, a moment of +calm succeeds to my torments,—yes, for sometimes I +am able to drive away the spectres which beset me by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +opposing to them the recollections of an honest and +peaceable past, by ascending in thought to my youthful +days, to my hours of infancy. Happily, the greatest +wretches have, at least, some years of peace and innocence +to oppose to their criminal and blood-stained +years. None are born wicked; the most infamous have +had the lovely candour of infancy,—have tasted the +sweet joys of that delightful age. And thus, I again +say, I sometimes find a bitter consolation in saying to +myself, 'I am, at this hour, doomed to universal execration, +but there was a time when I was beloved, protected, +because I was inoffensive and good. Alas! I must, +indeed, take refuge in the past, when I can, for it is +there only that I can find calm.'"</p> + +<p>As he uttered these last words, the tones of the +Schoolmaster lost their harshness; this man of iron +appeared deeply moved, and he added:</p> + +<p>"But now the salutary influence of these thoughts is +such that my fury is appeased; courage, power will fail +me to punish you. No, it is not I who will shed your +blood."</p> + +<p>"Well said, old buck! So, you see, Chouette, it was +only a lark," cried Tortillard, applauding.</p> + +<p>"No, it is not I who will shed your blood," continued +the Schoolmaster; "it would be a murder, excusable +perhaps, but still a murder; and I have enough with +three spectres; and then—who knows?—perhaps one +day you will repent also?"</p> + +<p>And, as he spake thus, the Schoolmaster had mechanically +given the Chouette some liberty of movement. +She took advantage of it to seize the stiletto which she +had thrust into her stays after Sarah's murder, and +aimed a violent blow with this weapon at the ruffian, in +order to disengage herself from him. He uttered a cry +of extreme pain.</p> + +<p>The ferocity of his hatred, his vengeance, his rage, +his bloody instincts, suddenly aroused and exasperated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> +by this attack, now all burst forth suddenly, terribly, +and carried with it his reason, already so strongly shaken +by so many shocks.</p> + +<p>"Ah, viper, I feel your teeth!" he exclaimed in a +voice that shook with passion, and seizing, with all his +might, the Chouette, who had thought thus to escape +him. "You are in this dungeon, then?" he added, +with an air of madness. "But I will crush the viper +or screech-owl. No doubt you were waiting for the +coming of the phantoms. Yes; for the blood beats in +my temples,—? my ears ring,—my head turns—as +when they are about to appear! Yes; I was not +deceived; here they are,—they advance from the +depths of darkness,—they advance! How pale they +are; and their blood, how it flows,—red and smoking! +It frightens you,—you struggle. Well, be still, you +shall not see the phantoms,—no, you shall not see +them. I have pity on you; I will make you blind. +You shall be, like me,—eyeless!"</p> + +<p>Here the Schoolmaster paused. The Chouette uttered +a cry so horrible that Tortillard, alarmed, bounded off +the step, and stood up. The horrid shrieks of the +Chouette served to place the copestone on the fury of +the Schoolmaster.</p> + +<p>"Sing," he said, in a low voice, "sing, Chouette,—night-bird! +Sing your song of death! You are happy; +you do not see three phantoms of those we have assassinated,—the +little old man in the Rue du Roule, the +drowned woman, the cattle-dealer. I see them; they +approach; they touch me. Ah, so cold,—so cold! +Ah!"</p> + +<p>The last gleam of sense of this unhappy wretch was +lost in this cry of condemnation. He could no longer +reason, but acted and roared like a wild beast, and only +obeyed the savage instinct of destruction for destruction. +A hurried trampling was now heard, interrupted +frequently at intervals with a heavy sound, which appeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> +like a box of bones bounding against a stone, +upon which it was intended to be broken. Sharp, +convulsive shrieks, and a burst of hellish laughter +accompanied each of these blows. Then there was +a gasp of agony. Then—nothing.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a distant noise of steps and voices reached +the depths of the subterranean vault. Tortillard, frozen +with terror by the fearful scene at which he had been +present without seeing it, perceived several persons holding +lights, who descended the staircase rapidly. In a +moment the cave was full of agents of safety, led by +Narcisse Borel. The Municipal Guards followed. Tortillard +was seized on the first steps of the cellar, with +the Chouette's basket still in his hand.</p> + +<p>Narcisse Borel, with some of his men, descended into +the Schoolmaster's cavern. They all paused, struck by +the appalling sight. Chained by the leg to an enormous +stone placed in the middle of the cave, the Schoolmaster, +with his hair on end, his long beard, foaming mouth, +was moving like a wild beast about his den, drawing after +him by the two legs the dead carcase of the Chouette, +whose head was horribly fractured. It required desperate +exertions to snatch her from his grasp and manacle +him. After a determined resistance they at length conveyed +him into the low parlour of the cabaret, a large +dark room, lighted by a solitary window. There, handcuffed +and guarded, were Barbillon, Nicholas Martial, his +mother and sister. They had been apprehended at the +very moment when laying violent hands on the jewel-matcher +to cut her throat. She was recovering herself +in another room. Stretched on the ground, and +hardly restrained by two men, the Schoolmaster, slightly +wounded, but quite deranged, was roaring like a wild bull.</p> + +<p>Barbillon, with his head hanging down, his face +ghastly, lead-coloured, his lips colourless, eye fixed +and savage, his long and straight hair falling on +the collar of his blouse, torn in the struggle, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +seated on a bench, his wrists, enclosed in handcuffs, +resting on his knees. The juvenile appearance of this +fellow (he was scarcely eighteen years of age), the regularity +of his beardless features, already emaciated and +withered, were rendered still more deplorable by the +hideous stamp which debauchery and crime had imprinted +on his physiognomy. Impassive, he did not +say a word. It could not be determined whether this +apparent insensibility was owing to stupor or to a calm +energy; his breathing was rapid, and, at times, he wiped +away the perspiration from his pale brow with his +fettered hands.</p> + +<p>By his side was Calabash, whose cap had been torn +off, and her yellowish hair, tied behind with a piece of +tape, hung down in several scanty and tangled meshes. +More savage than subdued, her thin and bilious cheeks +were somewhat suffused, as she looked disdainfully at +her brother, Nicholas, who was in a chair in front of her. +Anticipating the fate that awaited him, this scoundrel +was dejected. With drooping head and trembling knees +he was overcome with fright; his teeth chattered convulsively, +and he heaved heavy groans.</p> + +<p>The Mother Martial, the only one unmoved, exhibited +every proof that she had lost nothing of her accustomed +audacity. With head erect, she looked unshrinkingly +around her. However, at the sight of Bras-Rouge,—whom +they brought into the low room, after having +made him accompany the commissary and his clerk in +the minute search they had made all over the place,—the +widow's features contracted, in spite of herself, and +her small and usually dull eyes lighted up like those +of an infuriated viper; her pinched-up lips became +livid, and she twisted her manacled arms. Then, as if +sorry she had made this mute display of impotent rage, +she subdued her emotion, and became cold and calm +again.</p> + +<p>Whilst the commissary and his clerk were writing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +their depositions, Narcisse Borel, rubbing his hands, cast +a satisfied look on the important capture he had made, +and which freed Paris from a band of dangerous criminals; +but, confessing to himself how useful Bras-Rouge +had really been in the affair, he could not help casting +on him an expressive and grateful look.</p> + +<p>Tortillard's father was to share until after trial +the confinement and lot of those he had informed +against, and, like them, he was handcuffed; and even +more than them did he assume a trembling air of consternation, +twisting his weasel's features with all his +might, in order to give them a despairing expression, +and heaving tremendous sighs. He embraced Tortillard, +as if he should find some consolation in his paternal +caresses.</p> + +<p>The little cripple did not seem much moved by these +marks of tenderness; he had just learned that, for a +time, he would be moved off to the prison for young +offenders.</p> + +<p>"What a misery to have a dear child!" cried Bras-Rouge, +pretending to be greatly affected. "It is we +two who are most unfortunate, madame, for we shall be +separated from our children."</p> + +<p>The widow could no longer preserve her calmness; +and having no doubt of Bras-Rouge's treachery, which +she had foretold, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I was sure it was you who had sold my son at +Toulon. There, Judas!" and she spat in his face. +"You sell our heads! Well, they shall see the right +sort of deaths,—deaths of true Martials!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we shan't shrink before the carline (guillotine)," +added Calabash, with savage excitement.</p> + +<p>The widow, glancing towards Nicholas, said to her +daughter, with an air of unutterable contempt:</p> + +<p>"That coward there will dishonour us on the scaffold!"</p> + +<p>Some minutes afterwards the widow and Calabash,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +accompanied by two policemen, got into a hackney-coach +to go to St. Lazare; Barbillon, Nicholas, and +Bras Rouge were conveyed to La Force, whilst the +Schoolmaster was conveyed to the Conciergerie, where +there are cells for the reception of lunatics.</p> + + +<p class="ending">END OF VOLUME IV.</p> + +<div class="tr"> +<h4>Transcriber's Notes:</h4> + +<p>This e-text was prepared from numbered edition 505 of the 1000 printed.</p> + +<p>In the original text the title "The Mysteries of Paris" and the "Edition +de Luxe" are printed in Bold Gothic Font.</p> + +<p>Minor punctuation and capitalization corrections have been made +without comment.</p> + +<p>Minor typographical errors of single words, otherwise spelled +correctly throughout the text have been made without comment.</p> + +<p>p. 87, "that'll" to "that" (that I'll slash your eyes out;)</p> + +<p>p. 188, "caligraphy" to "calligraphy" (expert in calligraphy)</p> + +<p>Word Variations appearing in the original text which have been +retained:</p> + +<div class="tns"> +<p>"Bras Rouge" and "Bras-Rouge"<br /> +"Halloa" and "Holloa" and "Holla"<br /> +"Ile du Ravageur" and "Isle du Ravageur"<br /> +"rencontre" and "rencounter"<br /> +"work-people" and "workpeople"</p> +</div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Footnotes, originally at the bottom of a printed page, have been placed +directly below the paragraph in which their anchor symbol appears.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 4 of 6, by +Eugène Sue + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS, V.4 *** + +***** This file should be named 33803-h.htm or 33803-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/8/0/33803/ + +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) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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