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+Project Gutenberg's The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 4 of 6, by Eugene 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: Eugene Sue
+
+Illustrators: G. Mercier
+              Bicknell
+              Leon Poiteau
+              Adrian Marcel
+
+Release Date: September 22, 2010 [EBook #33803]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** 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)
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.
+
+2. Passages in Gothic Bold are surrounded by +plus+ signs.
+
+3. Other transcription notes appear at the end of this e-text.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _The Abduction._
+Original Etching by Mercier.]
+
+
+
+
++The Mysteries of Paris.+
+
+  _ILLUSTRATED WITH ETCHINGS
+  BY MERCIER, BICKNELL, POITEAU,
+  AND ADRIAN MARCEL._
+
+                 _BY EUGENE SUE_
+
+
+      _IN SIX VOLUMES
+         VOLUME IV._
+
+
+       _PRINTED FOR
+  FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO.
+          BOSTON_
+
+
+     +Edition de Luxe+
+
+_This edition is limited to one thousand copies,
+of which this is_
+
+          No.____
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+    CHAPTER                                               PAGE
+          I. RIGOLETTE'S FIRST SORROW                       11
+         II. THE WILL                                       33
+        III. L'ILE DU RAVAGEUR                              48
+         IV. THE FRESHWATER PIRATE                          60
+          V. THE MOTHER AND SON                             82
+         VI. FRANCOIS AND AMANDINE                         101
+        VII. A LODGING-HOUSE                               119
+       VIII. THE VICTIMS OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE           132
+         IX. THE RUE DE CHAILLOT                           156
+          X. THE COMTE DE SAINT-REMY                       170
+         XI. THE INTERVIEW                                 185
+        XII. THE SEARCH                                    204
+       XIII. THE ADIEUX                                    226
+        XIV. RECOLLECTIONS                                 239
+         XV. THE BOATS                                     262
+        XVI. THE HAPPINESS OF MEETINGS                     273
+       XVII. DOCTOR GRIFFON                                298
+      XVIII. THE PORTRAIT                                  305
+        XIX. THE AGENT OF SAFETY                           315
+         XX. THE CHOUETTE                                  321
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+                                                          PAGE
+      THE ABDUCTION                              _Frontispiece_
+      THE BRIGAND DASHED AT HIS BROTHER                     87
+      HE EXHIBITED SUCH FEROCIOUS JOY                      168
+      WAS ABOUT TO EMBRACE HIS FATHER                      199
+
+
+
+
+THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+RIGOLETTE'S FIRST SORROW.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+"In order to sing without compunction, when we have near us persons so
+much to be pitied," she said, naively, "we must have been as charitable
+to them as possible."
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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
+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.
+
+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?
+
+But let us leave the lofty stilts of our utopianisms, and return to the
+cause of Rigolette's first sorrow.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+Francois 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+                                  "PRISON OF THE CONCIERGERIE.
+
+      "MADEMOISELLE:--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 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 Jerome
+    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 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 depot 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 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 _secretaire_
+    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
+    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 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!
+
+                                            "FRANCOIS GERMAIN.
+
+      "P. S.--If you reply, address your letter to me at the prison
+    of La Force."
+
+We may now divine the cause of Rigolette's first sorrow.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Such was the moral position of Rigolette when Rodolph entered her
+chamber, having first rapped very discreetly at the door.
+
+"Good morning, neighbour," said Rodolph to Rigolette; "do not let me
+disturb you."
+
+"Not at all, neighbour. On the contrary, I am delighted to see you, for
+I have had something to vex me dreadfully."
+
+"Why, in truth, you look very pale, and appear as though you had been
+weeping."
+
+"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 _couleur-de-rose_."
+
+"And what do you propose to do, my little neighbour?"
+
+"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. Honore, 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."
+
+"I had thought of that."
+
+"You, neighbour?"
+
+"Here is an order."
+
+"How fortunate! Can't you procure me also an order for the prison of
+poor, unhappy Germain? He would be so delighted!"
+
+"I will also find you the means of seeing Germain."
+
+"Oh, thank you, M. Rodolph."
+
+"You will not be afraid, then, of going to his prison?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Bravo, neighbour; I like your indignation."
+
+"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."
+
+"You administer justice very expeditiously," said Rodolph, smiling.
+
+"Because it makes my blood boil. And, as Germain 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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, yes, M. Rodolph, I never blab."
+
+"Well, then, no one must know--not even Germain himself--that he has
+friends who are watching over him,--for he has friends."
+
+"Really!"
+
+"Very powerful and devoted."
+
+"It would give him much courage to know that."
+
+"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."
+
+"I understand, M. Rodolph."
+
+"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."
+
+"I understand, M. Rodolph."
+
+"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."
+
+"Make yourself easy, neighbour, I will forget nothing; I have an
+excellent memory. But, when we talk of goodness, it is you who are so
+good and kind. If any one is in trouble, then you come directly."
+
+"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."
+
+"And where are you lodging, now you have given up your chamber to the
+Morels?"
+
+"I live in a furnished lodging."
+
+"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."
+
+"I am only there at nights, and then--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Courage, courage! Your spirits will return when your friend is
+acquitted."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I will only ask you to trust the letter with me until to-morrow
+morning."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Not at all. We will have a coach."
+
+"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 Cretu has piped a little to
+try me; I endeavoured to answer him, but, after a minute or two, I
+began to cry. Ramonette then began; but I could not answer one any
+better than the other."
+
+"What singular names you have given your birds: Papa Cretu and
+Ramonette!"
+
+"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 Cretu and Ramonette were gay, and sang
+like birds."
+
+"Ah, now, yes, I remember, your adopted parents were called so."
+
+"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."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"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
+Cretu! 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 Cretu. 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."
+
+"What a bold resolve!"
+
+"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 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.[1] I did not change, because I never will call those birds by
+any other name than Cretu 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?"
+
+  [1] Colibri is a celebrated chanson of Beranger, the especial
+  poet of grisettes.--_English Translator_.
+
+"You are right a thousand times over. And Germain did not turn these
+names into a jest, eh?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"We shall go and return in a coach."
+
+"True; we shall go and return very quickly, and that will be so much
+gained."
+
+"But, now I think of it, what are you to do? Your work will suffer from
+your visits to the prison."
+
+"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 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.
+
+"And you have no fear that you will be overfatigued?"
+
+"Bah! Not at all; I shall manage it. And, besides, it can't last for
+ever."
+
+"Here is your shawl, neighbour."
+
+"Fasten it; and mind you don't prick me."
+
+"Ah, the pin is bent."
+
+"Well, then, clumsy, take another then,--from the pincushion. Ah, I
+forgot! Will you do me a great favour, neighbour?"
+
+"Command me, neighbour."
+
+"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."
+
+"Where are your pens?"
+
+"There,--on the table; the knife is in the drawer. Wait until I light my
+taper, for it begins to grow dusk."
+
+"Yes, I shall see better how to mend the pen."
+
+"And I how to tie my cap."
+
+Rigolette lighted a lucifer-match, and lighted a wax-end in a small
+bright candlestick.
+
+"The deuce,--a wax-light! Why, neighbour, what extravagance!"
+
+"Oh, what I burn costs but a very small trifle more than a candle, and
+it's so much cleaner!"
+
+"Not much dearer?"
+
+"Indeed, they are not! I buy these wax-ends by the pound, and a half a
+pound lasts nearly a year."
+
+"But," said Rodolph, who was mending the pen very carefully, whilst the
+grisette was tying on her cap before the glass, "I do not see any
+preparations for your dinner."
+
+"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."
+
+"Then you will not take a dinner with me quietly after we have been to
+Germain's?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"It is, neighbour; and I assure you I will not forget the engagement.
+But you refuse me this to-day?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Then, for to-day I renounce the pleasure."
+
+"There is my parcel, neighbour. Now go out first, and I will lock the
+door."
+
+"Here's a capital pen for you; and now for the parcel."
+
+"Mind you don't rumple it; it is _pout-de-soie_, 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."
+
+And Rodolph descended the staircase, followed by Rigolette.
+
+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 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.
+
+Anastasie soon appeared on the threshold of the lodge, and exclaimed, at
+her husband's appearance:
+
+"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!"
+
+At this voice, so dear to his heart, M. Pipelet raised his head. His
+features were impressed with a bitter agony.
+
+"What did the commissary say to you?" inquired Anastasie.
+
+"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."
+
+"What, the commissary?"
+
+"The commissary," exclaimed M. Pipelet, with fierce indignation,--"the
+commissary laughed in my teeth!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+"Good-for-nothing magistrate!" exclaimed Madame Pipelet.
+
+"It is all over, Anastasie,--all is ended,--hope ceases. There's no
+justice in France; I am really atrociously sacrificed."
+
+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 Francois
+Germain's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE WILL.
+
+
+Francois 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. Honore, 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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+At the end of about an hour, the _fiacre_, returning from the Rue St.
+Honore, 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.
+
+Owing to the extreme amenity of his disposition, the son of the
+Schoolmaster was unusually beloved, and the _confrere_ 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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Come, come, my good neighbour, try and exert yourself; you must not
+indulge such thoughts as these."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Because in the Rue du Temple he had the benefit of your advice and
+assistance."
+
+"Oh, pray look here!" cried Rigolette, pointing to the bed. "Only
+see,--the poor fellow never went 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?"
+
+"On the contrary, he would but be too much delighted with such a mark of
+your affection."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+And here Rigolette, in a faltering voice, read as follows:
+
+"'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?"
+
+"Undoubtedly; does not Germain expressly say that among the papers you
+will find a letter particularly addressed to yourself?"
+
+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:
+
+      "MADEMOISELLE:--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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"He must, indeed, have suffered deeply; but, trust me, his worst
+misfortunes are over."
+
+"Alas, M. Rodolph, I trust it may prove so! Still, to be in prison, and
+accused of theft!"
+
+"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."
+
+"His mother! Has he, then, still a mother?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, thank you, M. Rodolph! I promise you to guard the secret as
+carefully as you could do."
+
+Rigolette then proceeded with the perusal of Germain's letter; it
+continued thus:
+
+    "'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 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.'
+
+"What does that last part mean, M. Rodolph?" asked Rigolette, much
+surprised.
+
+"Proceed with the letter; we shall see by and by."
+
+Rigolette thus resumed:
+
+    "'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.'
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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
+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."
+
+"But still it astonished you, did it not?"
+
+"Why, M. Rodolph, I ascribed it to his melancholy, and I fancied his low
+spirits prevented his joking like the others."
+
+"And you felt angry with him, did you not, for always being so sad?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"To be sure; and it seems a thing to be proud of, to be loved by so
+excellent a young man!"
+
+"Whose love you will, no doubt, return one of these days?"
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+At this moment some one knocked at the door.
+
+"Who's there?" inquired Rodolph.
+
+"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.)
+
+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 _tapis-franc_ 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.
+
+Barbillon, the pretended hackney-coachman, who had driven the
+Schoolmaster and the Chouette to the hollow way of Bouqueval,--Barbillon,
+the assassin of the 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 _tapis-franc_ 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.
+
+"What do you want?" inquired Rodolph.
+
+"Here's a letter for Ma'am Mathieu, and I must give it to her myself,"
+was Barbillon's reply.
+
+"She does not live here,--it's opposite," said Rodolph.
+
+"Thank ye, master. They told me the left-hand door; but I've mistook."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Ma'am Mathieu?" inquired Barbillon.
+
+"That's me, my man."
+
+"Here's a letter, and I waits for an answer."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, missus. Please to remember the porter!"
+
+"Oh, you must ask them as sent you; they are richer than I am." And she
+shut the door.
+
+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:
+
+"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.'"[2]
+
+  [2] "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."
+
+"Let's mizzle,[3] then; for I must get back to Asnieres early, or else
+my brother Martial will smell summut."
+
+  [3] "Let's be quick, then."
+
+And the two robbers, after having exchanged these words in their own
+slang, went towards the Rue St. Denis.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some minutes afterwards Rigolette and Rodolph left Germain's, got into
+the hackney-coach, and reached the Rue du Temple.
+
+The coach stopped.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What's the matter?" inquired Rodolph, quickly, whilst Rigolette was
+collecting several things out of the vehicle.
+
+"A terrible circumstance, monseigneur!"
+
+"Speak, in heaven's name!"
+
+"M. the Marquis d'Harville--"
+
+"You alarm me!"
+
+"Had several friends to breakfast with him this morning. He was in high
+spirits, had never been more joyous, when a fatal imprudence--"
+
+"Pray come to the point--pray!"
+
+"And playing with a pistol, which he did not believe to be loaded--"
+
+"Wounded himself seriously."
+
+"Monseigneur!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Something dreadful!"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"He is dead!"
+
+"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:
+
+"Alas! what ails you, M. Rodolph?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Is it, then, some dreadful misfortune?" said Rigolette, trembling all
+over.
+
+"Very dreadful, indeed!" replied the squire.
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, M. Rodolph, I assure you that I share in the grief you now
+experience! I thank you very much for having accompanied me; but I
+shall soon see you again, sha'n't I?"
+
+"Yes, my child, very soon."
+
+"Good evening, M. Rodolph," added Rigolette, and then disappeared down
+the passage with the various things she had brought away from Germain's
+room.
+
+The prince and Murphy got into the hackney-coach, which took them to the
+Rue Plumet. Rodolph immediately wrote the following note to Clemence:
+
+      "MADAME:--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.
+
+      "Believe, madame, in my deep and lasting devotion,
+
+                                                    "RODOLPH."
+
+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,
+Clemence had forgotten to inform the prince that she had met
+Fleur-de-Marie at St. Lazare.
+
+Our readers may, perhaps, remember that, on the previous evening, the
+Chouette had been menacing Madame Seraphin, 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 Seraphin.
+
+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 Seraphin, was then a prisoner in St.
+Lazare, under the name of La Goualeuse; and that if he did not give ten
+thousand francs (400_l._) 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 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 Seraphin'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 Asnieres, 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 Seraphin went
+with all speed to the Martials.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+L'ILE DU RAVAGEUR.
+
+
+The following scenes took place during the evening of the day in which
+Madame Seraphin, 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 Asnieres.
+
+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.
+
+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 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:
+
+"Let him go wrong if he will,--we shall watch him. Have we not gaolers,
+turnkeys, and executioners?"
+
+Thus for him who (and it is as rare as it is meritorious) 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?
+
+"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."
+
+A criminal desires to speak.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.[4]
+
+  [4] 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:
+
+  "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.'"
+
+  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.
+
+  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 re-establishing 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?
+
+  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.
+
+The ancestor of the Martial family who first established himself on this
+islet, on payment of a moderate rent, was a _ravageur_ (a
+river-scavenger). The ravageurs, as well as the _debardeurs_ and
+_dechireurs_ of boats, remain nearly the whole of the day plunged in
+water up to the waist in the exercise of their trade. The _debardeurs_
+bring ashore the floating wood. The _dechireurs_ break up the rafts
+which have brought the wood. Equally aquatic as these other two
+occupations, the business of a _ravageur_ is different. Going into the
+water as far as possible, the _ravageur_, 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 _ravageurs_, indeed, often find in the sand fragments of
+gold and silver jewelry, brought into the Seine 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 _ravageur_ (and a sad
+exception to his comrades), the inhabitants of the river's banks called
+it the Ile du Ravageur.
+
+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:
+
+         "AU RENDEZVOUS DES RAVAGEURS.
+      GOOD WINE, GOOD EELS, AND FRIED FISH.
+         BOATS LET BY THE DAY OR HOUR."
+
+We thus see that the head of this depraved family added to his visible
+or hidden pursuits those of a public-house 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 _ravageur_, but really a freshwater pirate in the Seine and
+its banks. Francois, 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
+(_Calebasse_), 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.
+
+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 of the poplars, and the hoarse
+murmurs of the main stream.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 (_Calebasse_). 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.
+
+Francois, the youngest of the Martial sons, was sitting on a low stool
+repairing an _aldrel_, 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.
+
+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 Francois. 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 Francois 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.
+
+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:
+
+"Come, haven't you done taking the mark out of that shirt?"
+
+The little girl bowed her head without making any reply, and, by the aid
+of her fingers and scissors, hastily finished taking out the red cotton
+threads which marked the letters in the linen.
+
+After a few minutes Amandine, addressing the widow timidly, showed her
+the shirt, and said:
+
+"Mother, I have done it."
+
+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:
+
+"You stupid brat!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The fire was going out for want of fuel.
+
+"Francois, a log," said Calabash.
+
+The young mender of forbidden nets looked into a nook beside the
+chimney, and replied:
+
+"There are no more there."
+
+"Then go to the wood-pile," said Calabash.
+
+Francois murmured some unintelligible words, but did not stir.
+
+"Do you hear me, Francois?" inquired Calabash, harshly.
+
+The felon's widow laid on her knees a towel she was also unmarking, and
+looked at her son. He had lowered 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.
+
+"I say, are you deaf, Francois?" said Calabash, in an irritated tone.
+"Mother, you see!"
+
+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. Francois
+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. Francois had
+seen his mother's gesture, and, rising suddenly, sprung out of the reach
+of the threatening stick.
+
+"Do you want mother to break your back?" exclaimed Calabash.
+
+The widow, still holding the willow stick in her hand, pinching her pale
+lips together more and more, looked at Francois 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.
+
+"Mind yourself, mother's going to begin, and then it will be too late!"
+said the tall sister.
+
+"I don't care!" replied Francois, turning pale. "I'd rather be beaten as
+I was the day before yesterday, than--go to the wood-pile--and at
+night--again."
+
+"And why?" asked Calabash, impatiently.
+
+"I am--afraid of the wood-pile--I--" answered the boy, shuddering as he
+spoke.
+
+"Afraid--you stupid! And of what?"
+
+Francois shook his head, but did not reply.
+
+"Will you answer? What are you afraid of?"
+
+"I don't know. But I am frightened."
+
+"Why, you've been there a hundred times, and last night, too."
+
+"I won't go there any more."
+
+"Mother's going to begin."
+
+"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."
+
+"Once more--why not?" inquired Calabash.
+
+"Why, because--"
+
+"Because--?"
+
+"Because there's some one--"
+
+"There's some one--"
+
+"Buried there!" said Francois, with a shudder.
+
+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.
+
+"Some one buried by the wood-pile?" said Calabash, shrugging her
+shoulders.
+
+"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 Francois.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"And, of course, you told your brother, your dear friend Martial, of
+your grand discovery, didn't you?" asked Calabash, with brutal irony.
+
+Francois made no reply.
+
+"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."
+
+"If you call me a spy, I'll tell my brother Martial everything!" said
+Francois, much enraged. "I haven't told him yet, for I haven't seen him
+since; but, when he comes here this evening, I'll--"
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE FRESHWATER PIRATE.
+
+
+After a silence of several minutes, the criminal's widow said to her
+daughter:
+
+"Go and get some wood; we will set the wood-pile to rights when Nicholas
+and Martial return home this evening."
+
+"Martial! Do you mean to tell him also that--"
+
+"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.
+
+During the preceding scene, Amandine, deeply disquieted concerning the
+fate of Francois, 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
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+The widow shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I believe," answered the frightened child, without venturing to look
+up, "it means taking things that are not ours."
+
+"Oh, you little fool! It means stealing, not taking. Do you
+understand?--stealing!"
+
+"Thank you, sister!"
+
+"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.
+
+The widow received this pleasantry with cold indifference.
+
+"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?"
+
+The widow bowed her head, in token of assent.
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes, sister," answered the trembling child; "I will be sure to do as
+you wish me."
+
+"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 Asnieres, 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?"
+
+"Because, sister, my heart failed me, and I was afraid."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, but, sister, you know the handkerchief was for you, not me; and you
+made me do it. Besides, it was not money."
+
+"What difference does that make?"
+
+"Oh, why, taking a handkerchief is not half so wicked as stealing
+money!"
+
+"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 Francois against everything either you or I order them
+to do. Do you think this can last much longer?"
+
+"No!" said the mother, in a harsh, abrupt voice.
+
+"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--"
+
+Here the widow, who had been buried in profound reflection, suddenly
+interrupted her daughter by saying:
+
+"You think something profitable might be got out of the old fellow who
+lives in the doctor's house, do you not?"
+
+"Yes, mother!"
+
+"He looks poor and shabby as any common beggar!"
+
+"And, for all that, he is a nobleman."
+
+"A nobleman?"
+
+"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."
+
+"How do you know that he has gold?"
+
+"A little while ago I was at the post-office at Asnieres, to inquire
+whether there was any letter for us from Toulon--"
+
+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:
+
+"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 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--"
+
+A loud barking of dogs here interrupted Calabash.
+
+"Listen, mother," cried she; "no doubt the dogs hear the sound of a boat
+approaching; it must be either Martial or Nicholas."
+
+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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"And the man you were to meet on the Quai de Billy?" inquired Calabash,
+while the widow regarded her son in silence.
+
+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.
+
+"Did you take all that from him?" cried Calabash.
+
+"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?"
+
+"No," said his sister.
+
+"So much the better; we will put away the swag before he sees it;
+leastways, if he can be kept from knowing about it."
+
+"What! Are you afraid of him, you coward?" asked Calabash, provokingly.
+
+Nicholas shrugged his shoulders significantly; then replied:
+
+"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, my weazen-slicer (knife) has rather too keen an edge for
+that!"
+
+"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!"
+
+This reproach seemed quite thrown away upon Nicholas, who, affecting not
+to have heard it, exclaimed:
+
+"Come, come! Let's unload the boat at once. Where is Francois, mother?
+He could help us a good deal."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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 Francois.
+
+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.
+
+"Which road did you take to-night?" inquired the widow of her son.
+
+"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 Francois 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."
+
+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.
+
+Little Francois 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.
+
+"The case,--the case!" cried Calabash, with savage eagerness. "Come,
+let's rip it open, and know what's in it."
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+Huddling close to each other, their eyes glittering with excitement, the
+breathing short and quick, Francois 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 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.
+
+"Nicholas has not done amiss!" cried Calabash, unfolding a piece of
+mousseline-de-laine.
+
+"No, faith!" returned the plunderer, opening, in his turn, a parcel of
+silk handkerchiefs; "I shall manage to pay myself for my trouble."
+
+"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."
+
+"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. Honore, will take the rest of the
+swag."
+
+"Amandine," whispered Francois 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?"
+
+"Oh, yes; and what a sweet pretty _marmotte_ it would make for me!"
+replied the child, in rapture at the very idea.
+
+"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."
+
+"Mother Burette would give at least five hundred francs for the lot,"
+said the widow, after closely examining each article.
+
+"Then, I'll be sworn," answered Nicholas, "if she'll give that, the
+things are worth at least fifteen hundred 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."
+
+"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."
+
+"There is nothing else," said Nicholas, coming to the bottom of the box.
+
+"Now, let us put everything away," said the widow.
+
+"I shall keep this shawl for myself," exclaimed Calabash.
+
+"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!"
+
+"You are so mighty particular yourself--about taking whatever you have a
+fancy to, arn't you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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 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."
+
+These words entirely appeased Calabash, who forthwith accepted the shawl
+without further scruple.
+
+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 Francois, who had
+been contemplating them with longing looks, saying:
+
+"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."
+
+The delighted children clapped their hands with joy, and triumphantly
+waved the stolen handkerchiefs which had just been presented to them.
+
+"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?"
+
+Francois and Amandine looked at each other, then hung down their heads,
+and made no answer.
+
+"Answer, can't you?" persisted Calabash, roughly. "I ask you whether you
+ever received such presents from Martial?"
+
+"No," answered Francois, gazing with intense delight on his bright red
+silk handkerchief, "Brother Martial never gives us anything."
+
+To which Amandine replied, in a low yet firm voice:
+
+"Ah, Francois, that is because Martial has nothing to give anybody."
+
+"He might have as much as other people if he chose to steal it, mightn't
+he, Francois?" said Nicholas, brutally.
+
+"Yes, brother," replied Francois. Then, as if glad to quit the subject,
+he resumed his ecstatic contemplation of his handkerchief, saying:
+
+"Oh, what a real beauty it is! What a fine cravat it will make for
+Sundays, won't it?"
+
+"That it will," answered Amandine. "And just see, Francois, how charming
+I shall look with my sweet pretty handkerchief tied around my head,--so,
+brother."
+
+"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."
+
+"So they will," cried Francois. "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?"
+
+"No, Francois, I don't find that makes any difference. But I am quite
+glad I have got such a nice new pretty _marmotte_ as that will make, all
+the same."
+
+"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."
+
+"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 iron; and, besides that, your pretty silk
+handkerchiefs shall be taken from you."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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 blade. Contemplating this murderous weapon
+with a sort of savage pleasure, he said to the widow:
+
+"There's my bread-earner,--what an edge it has! Talking of bread,
+mother, just hand me some of that beside you."
+
+"And talking of knives, too," replied Calabash, "Francois has found
+out--you know what--in the wood-pile!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Nicholas, not understanding her.
+
+"Why, he saw--one of the feet!"
+
+"Phew!" whistled Nicholas; "what, of the man?"
+
+"Yes," answered the widow, concisely, at the same time placing a large
+slice of meat on her son's plate.
+
+"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."
+
+"It must all be thrown into the river to-night," said the widow.
+
+"That is the surest way to get rid of further bother," said Nicholas.
+
+"Yes," chimed in Calabash, "throw it in the river, with a heavy stone
+fastened to it, with part of an old boat-chain."
+
+"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."
+
+The widow drew back her glass, shook her head, and said to her son:
+
+"Tell me of the man you met on the Quai de Billy."
+
+"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 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."
+
+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 Seraphin to the Martials, whom he
+hoped to find the ready instruments of his fresh crime.
+
+"'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 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 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."
+
+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
+Seraphin, by causing the 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
+Seraphin, 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 Seraphin, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"That is not all," he continued. "I have begun another affair with the
+Chouette and Barbillon of the Rue aux Feves. 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."
+
+"Fifty thousand francs!" cried the mother and daughter, whose eyes
+sparkled with cupidity.
+
+"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 Elysees. We shall be concealed there. Calabash may
+come with us, and take care of my boat along the side of the Seine. 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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Because he's so downy there's no proofs against him. But betray
+others?--never!"
+
+The widow shook her head, as if she were only half convinced of Bras
+Rouge's probity. After a few moments' reflection she said:
+
+"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."
+
+"Will not the devil's thunder ever rid us of him?" exclaimed Nicholas,
+half drunk, and striking his long knife savagely on the table.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"There are other means--"
+
+"This is the best!" said the ruffian.
+
+"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.
+
+The widow added, "To-morrow he will quit the island for ever."
+
+"How?" inquired Nicholas and Calabash at the same time.
+
+"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."
+
+"And what then, mother?" asked Nicholas.
+
+"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."
+
+"But he is as obstinate as a mule, and is likely enough to insist upon
+staying, because of the children," observed Calabash.
+
+"He's a regular hound; but a row don't frighten him," said Nicholas.
+
+"One? No!" said the widow. "But every day--day by day--it is hell in
+earth, and he will give way."
+
+"Suppose he don't?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Really, mother!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And if the other way does not succeed, either, mother?" said Nicholas.
+
+"There is one which always succeeds," replied the widow.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE MOTHER AND SON.
+
+
+Unaware of the evil designs of his family, Martial entered the kitchen
+slowly.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+La Louve's lover was very much like Francois 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 at the
+extremity, his blue and bold eyes, gave to his masculine features a
+singularly resolute expression.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Where are the children?" were Martial's first words, as he sat down to
+table.
+
+"Where they ought to be," replied Calabash, surlily.
+
+"Where are the children, mother?" said Martial again, without taking the
+slightest notice of his sister's reply.
+
+"Gone to bed," replied the widow, in a harsh tone.
+
+"Haven't they had their supper, mother?"
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+"So much the worse," responded the widow.
+
+"Yes, so much the worse; for I like to have them beside me when I am at
+supper."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Nicholas, then, taking up the willow stick which the widow had used to
+beat Francois, went up to the dog, and, striking him sharply, said, "Get
+out, you brute, Miraut!"
+
+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.
+
+At the cry of the beaten dog, Martial rose, opened the door of the
+kitchen, made the dog go out, and then 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.
+
+"Calabash, take the wine away," said the widow to her daughter.
+
+She hastened to comply, when Martial said, "Stay, I haven't done my
+supper."
+
+"So much the worse," said the widow, taking the bottle away herself.
+
+"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!"
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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----"
+
+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 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:
+
+"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."
+
+"A bone for me to pick?"
+
+"Yes; and I'll thrash you more soundly than I did last time."
+
+"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."
+
+"He walloped me, because, like a coward, he took me off my guard,"
+exclaimed Nicholas, turning pale with rage.
+
+"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."
+
+"And suppose I choose to talk of La Louve?" inquired Calabash.
+
+"Why, I'll pull your ears to put you on your guard; and if you begin
+again, why, so will I."
+
+"And suppose I speak of her?" said the widow, slowly.
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes,--I!"
+
+"You?" said Martial, making a violent effort over himself; "you?"
+
+"You'll beat me, too, I suppose,--won't you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You?" exclaimed the ruffian, rising, and drawing his dangerous Spanish
+knife; "you give me a hiding?"
+
+[Illustration: _The Brigand dashed at his brother._
+Original Etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Nicholas, no steel!" repeated the widow.
+
+"Let him alone!" cried Calabash, taking up the ravageur's hatchet.
+
+Nicholas, still brandishing his formidable knife, watched for a moment
+when he could spring on his brother.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Villain, you have broken my arm!" he shouted, grasping with his left
+hand the right arm, which hung useless by his side.
+
+"No; for I felt my stick rebound!" replied Martial, kicking, as he
+spoke, the knife underneath the dresser.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Then addressing the widow, who was still stupefied with this
+manoeuvre, as skilful as it was sudden, Martial said to her, calmly,
+"Now, mother, you and I are alone."
+
+"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."
+
+"And I will tell you all I have on my mind."
+
+"If you live to be a hundred years old, I tell you you shall remember
+this night."
+
+"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?"
+
+"What have I?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Since your father's death you have acted nothing but a coward's part."
+
+"I?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"And what track are you following now? You steal game, you steal
+fish,--thefts without danger,--a coward's thefts!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Why, you fight--and for money--men who are weaker than yourself."
+
+"Because they have beaten men weaker than themselves."
+
+"A coward's trade,--a coward's trade!"
+
+"Why, there are more honest pursuits, it is true. But it is not for you
+to tell me this!"
+
+"Then why did you not take up with those honest trades, instead of
+coming here skulking and feeding out of my saucepans?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"And what do you say of your mother?"
+
+"I say--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I say she is dead."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Avenging them?"
+
+"Yes, by showing yourself a real Martial, spitting at the headsman's
+knife and the red cassock, and ending like father, mother, brother,
+sister--"
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Why didn't you remain in the woods?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what is that to you?"
+
+"To me? Why, I will not allow them to become depraved like Ambroise,
+Nicholas, and Calabash."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"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 the
+guillotined!' or, 'You brother of the felon!' I had battles daily, and I
+grew tired of it."
+
+"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. Francois is
+already one of us, or nearly. Let the occasion serve, and he'll be one
+of the band."
+
+"I tell you, no!"
+
+"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!"[5]
+
+  [5] These frightful facts are, unfortunately, not exaggerated.
+  The following is from the admirable report of M. de Bretigneres
+  on the Penitentiary Colony of Mettray (March 12, 1843):
+
+"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."
+
+"That's a pity!"
+
+"And as you may be spoiled amongst us, why, to-morrow you shall leave
+this place, and never return to it."
+
+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?"
+
+"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. 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."
+
+"Do you think to frighten me?"
+
+"I only tell you what will happen."
+
+"I don't heed it. I shall stay!"
+
+"You will stay?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In spite of us?"
+
+"In spite of you, of Calabash, of Nicholas, and all blackguards like
+him."
+
+"Really, you make me laugh."
+
+From the lips of this woman, with her repulsive and ferocious look,
+these words were horrible.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, you remain until the moment when you can take away the children?"
+
+"Exactly as you say."
+
+"Take away the children?"
+
+"When I say to them 'Come!' they will come; and quickly too, I promise
+you."
+
+The widow shrugged her shoulders, and replied:
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand times over, yes!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"I have my suspicions; but I do not wish to know."
+
+"You shall know. He steals!"
+
+"So much the worse for him!"
+
+"And for you!"
+
+"For me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I apprehended as a receiver,--as your accomplice? Where's the proofs?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"I will prove the contrary."
+
+"We will accuse you as our accomplice."
+
+"Accuse me! And why?"
+
+"To pay you off for staying amongst us against our will."
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah! You remain? Listen then, again! Do you remember last year a person
+who passed the Christmas night here?"
+
+"Christmas night?" said Martial, trying to recall his memory.
+
+"Try and remember,--try!"
+
+"I do not recollect."
+
+"Don't you recollect that Bras Rouge brought here in the evening a
+well-dressed man, who was desirous of concealing himself?"
+
+"Yes, now I remember. I went up to bed and left him taking his supper
+with you. He passed the night here, and, before daybreak, Nicholas took
+him to St. Ouen."
+
+"You are sure Nicholas took him to St. Ouen?"
+
+"You told me so next morning."
+
+"On Christmas night you were here?"
+
+"Yes; and what of that?"
+
+"Why, that night this man, who had a good deal of money about him, was
+murdered in this house."
+
+"Mur--! He! Here?"
+
+"And robbed and buried by the little wood-pile."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Ask Francois what he saw this morning in the wood-pile."
+
+"Francois! And what did he see?"
+
+"A man's foot sticking out of the ground. Take a lantern; go and
+convince your eyes!"
+
+"No," said Martial, wiping his brow, which had burst forth in a cold
+sweat. "No, I do not believe you. You say it to--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Merciless wretch!" said Martial, hiding his face in his hands.
+
+"Now will you go?" said the widow, with a devilish smile.
+
+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 sister declared him to be their
+accomplice. The widow was rejoiced at the depression of her son:
+
+"You have one means of getting out of the difficulty: denounce us!"
+
+"I ought, but I will not; and you know that right well."
+
+"That is why I have told you all this. Now, will you go?"
+
+Martial, wishing to soften this hag, said to her, in a subdued voice:
+
+"Mother, I do not believe you are capable of this murder!"
+
+"As you please; but go!"
+
+"I will go on one condition."
+
+"No condition at all!"
+
+"You shall put the children apprentices somewhere in the country."
+
+"They shall remain here!"
+
+"But, mother, when you have made them like Nicholas, Calabash, Ambroise,
+my father,--what good will that be to you?"
+
+"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, Francois and Amandine will help him.
+They have already been pelted with stones,--young as they are,--and they
+must revenge themselves!"
+
+"Mother, you love Calabash and Nicholas, don't you?"
+
+"Well, if I do, what then?"
+
+"Suppose the children imitate them, and their crimes are detected?"
+
+"Well, what then?"
+
+"They will come to the scaffold, like my father."
+
+"What then? What then?"
+
+"And does not their probable fate make you tremble?"
+
+"That fate will be mine, neither better nor worse. I rob, they rob; I
+kill, they kill. Whoever takes the 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!"
+
+"But the children,--the children!"
+
+"The children will grow up, and, but for you, they would have been quite
+formed already. Francois is almost ready, and, when you are gone,
+Amandine will make up for lost time."
+
+"Mother, I entreat of you, consent to having the children sent away from
+here, and put in apprenticeship at a distance."
+
+"I tell you that they are in apprenticeship here!"
+
+The felon's widow uttered these last words so immovably that Martial
+lost all hope of mollifying this soul of bronze.
+
+"Since it is so," he replied, "hear me in my turn, mother,--I remain!"
+
+"Ha! ha!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh! That's it, is it?"
+
+"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 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!"
+
+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.
+
+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 Francois 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.
+
+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.
+
+As cunning as she was penetrating, the widow, perceiving 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:
+
+"I see your plan. You will not inform against us yourself, but you will
+contrive that the children shall do so."
+
+"I?"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"A long way off,--and where?" inquired the widow, looking steadfastly at
+her son.
+
+"Let me take them away,--where is no consequence to you."
+
+"How will you and they live?"
+
+"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."
+
+"No, no! I prefer their remaining with me. I shall then be perfectly
+sure of them."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, I know it. Oh, how I wish you were a thousand miles away! Why
+didn't you remain in your woods?"
+
+"I offer to rid you of myself and the children."
+
+"What! Would you leave La Louve here, whom you love so much?" asked the
+widow, suddenly.
+
+"That's my affair. I know what I shall do. I have my plans."
+
+"If I let you take away Amandine and Francois, will you never again set
+foot in Paris?"
+
+"Before three days have passed, we shall have departed, and be as dead
+to you."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Agreed!"
+
+"Agreed! Give me the key of the cellar, that I may let Nicholas out!"
+
+"No; let him sleep his liquor off, and I'll give you the key to-morrow
+morning."
+
+"And Calabash?"
+
+"Ah, that's another affair! Let her out when I have gone. I can't bear
+the sight of her."
+
+"Go, and may hell confound you!"
+
+"That's your farewell, mother?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Fortunately your last!" said Martial.
+
+"My last!" responded the widow.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+FRANCOIS AND AMANDINE.
+
+
+Francois 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.
+
+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 Francois, 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.
+
+Amandine, seated at the edge of the bed, was trying how to dress her
+head _en marmotte_, with the stolen silk handkerchief, the gift of her
+brother Nicholas. Francois 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,
+Francois for an instant neglected to present the bit of glass in such a
+way that her face could be reflected in it.
+
+"Lift the looking-glass higher," said Amandine; "I 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?"
+
+"Oh, capitally,--excellently! What a handsome rosette! You'll make me
+just such a one for my cravat, won't you?"
+
+"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."
+
+Francois then went through this difficult manoeuvre 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.
+
+Very simple and unsophisticated under any other circumstances, this
+coquetry became guilt when displayed in reference to the produce of a
+robbery of which Francois 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+It may be supposed, therefore, that the instincts of morality in these
+children were doubtful and precarious, especially those of Francois, 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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"How well you look in that handkerchief, sister!" said Francois; "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!'"
+
+"But, I say, Francois," said Amandine, after a moment's reflection, "if
+they knew that the handkerchiefs we wear were stolen, they would call us
+little thieves."
+
+"Well, and what should we care if they did call us little thieves?"
+
+"Why, not at all, if it were not true. But now--"
+
+"Since Nicholas gave us these handkerchiefs, we didn't steal them!"
+
+"No; but he took them out of a barge; and Brother Martial says no one
+ought to steal."
+
+"But, as Nicholas states, that is no affair of ours."
+
+"Do you think so, Francois?"
+
+"Of course I do."
+
+"Still, it seems to me that I would rather the person who really owns
+them had given them to us. What do you say, Francois?"
+
+"Oh, it's all one to me! They were given to us, and so they're ours."
+
+"Are you sure of that?"
+
+"Why, yes--yes; make yourself easy about that."
+
+"So much the better, then, for we are not doing what Brother Martial
+forbids, and we have such nice handkerchiefs!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, Francois, 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, Francois, I should have been sent to
+prison."
+
+"But you weren't caught; so it's just the same as if you had not
+stolen."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And in prison how unhappy we must be."
+
+"On the contrary--"
+
+"How do you mean on the contrary?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"A fat cripple?"
+
+"Why, yes, who came here the end of last autumn from Father Micou, with
+a man who had monkeys and two women."
+
+"Ah, yes, a stout, lame man, who spent such a deal of money."
+
+"I believe you; he paid for everybody. Don't you 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?"
+
+"Yes; and in the evening the beautiful fireworks they let off,
+Francois?"
+
+"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."
+
+"So much as that, Francois?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"How rich he must be!"
+
+"Not at all. What he spent was money he had gained in prison, from which
+he had just come."
+
+"Gained all that money in prison?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Then he wasn't afraid of prison, Francois?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Are you sure he said that, Francois,--the stout lame man?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But then, Francois, it can't be so bad to steal, if people are so well
+off in prison."
+
+"Oh, the deuce! I don't know. Here it is only Brother Martial who says
+it is wrong to steal; perhaps he is wrong."
+
+"Never mind if he is, Francois. We ought to believe him, for he loves us
+so much!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, Francois, 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.
+
+"It's quite true, though," answered Francois, extricating himself gently
+from Amandine. "Why are my mother and Calabash always so savage to us?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Is that our fault?"
+
+"Oh, no! But what would you have?"
+
+"_Ma foi!_ 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?"
+
+"Ah, what would Martial say to that?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Poor Francois! for only having said you saw a dead man's bone by the
+wood-pile."
+
+"Yes, a foot that was sticking out of the ground," said Francois,
+shuddering with fright; "I am quite sure of it."
+
+"Perhaps there was a burying-ground there once."
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right; for don't you remember that such a thing did nearly
+happen once?"
+
+"When?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"So young and so wicked, Francois?"
+
+"Tortillard is much younger, and he would be quite as wicked as he, if
+he were strong enough."
+
+"Oh, yes, he's very, very wicked! The other day he beat me, because I
+would not play with him."
+
+"He beat you, did he? Then, the first time he comes--"
+
+"No, no, Francois; it was only in jest."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Yes, quite sure."
+
+"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 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!'"
+
+"Muffs?"
+
+"Yes; in slang that means fools, simpletons."
+
+"Yes, to be sure."
+
+"Forty francs in gold! What a many fine things I could buy with that!
+Couldn't you, Amandine?"
+
+"That I could."
+
+"What should you buy?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But for yourself,--for yourself."
+
+"I should like a crucifixion, like those image-sellers had on Sunday,
+you know, under the church porch at Asnieres."
+
+"Yes; and, now I think of it, we must not tell mother or Calabash that
+we went into a church."
+
+"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, Francois?"
+
+"Yes; and what beautiful silver candlesticks!"
+
+"And the picture of the holy Virgin, how kind she looks!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Tell me, Francois, do you remember last year, at the Fete-Dieu, when we
+saw from here the little communicants, with their white veils, pass over
+the bridge?"
+
+"What nice nosegays they had!"
+
+"How they sang in a soft tone, holding the ribands of their banners!"
+
+"And how the silver lace of their banners shone in the sunshine! What a
+deal of money it must have cost!"
+
+"Oh, how beautiful it was! Wasn't it, Francois?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And the little boys had their banners, too, hadn't they, Francois? Ah,
+Francois, how I was thumped that day for asking our mother why we did
+not go in the procession, like the other children!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Oh, and as for that, they should kill me before I would rob in a
+church; and you, too, Francois?"
+
+"There, or anywhere; what difference does it make, when once one has
+made up one's mind?"
+
+"Why, I don't know; but I should be so frightened, I could never do it."
+
+"Because of the priests?"
+
+"No; but because of the portrait of the holy Virgin, who seems so kind
+and good."
+
+"What consequence is a portrait? It won't eat or drink, you silly
+child!"
+
+"That's very true; but then I really couldn't. It is not my fault."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes; but then, you know, Brother Martial said, as Nicholas did, that
+there was no occasion to salute the priests."
+
+At this moment Francois 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.
+
+"What! Not in bed yet, little gossips?"
+
+"No, brother, we waited until you came, that we might see you, and wish
+you good night," said Amandine.
+
+"And then we heard you speaking very loud below, as if there were a
+quarrel," added Francois.
+
+"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."
+
+"For us, brother?"
+
+"Should you like to go away from here, and come with me a long way off?"
+
+"Oh, yes, brother!"
+
+"Yes, brother!"
+
+"Well, then, in two or three days we shall all three leave the island."
+
+"Oh, how delightful!" exclaimed Amandine, clapping her hands with joy.
+
+"And where shall we go to?" inquired Francois.
+
+"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."
+
+"Then I sha'n't go fishing with you any more, brother?"
+
+"No, my boy, you will be put apprentice to a carpenter or locksmith. You
+are strong and handy, and with 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?"
+
+"Why, brother,--I--"
+
+"Come, come! Speak out."
+
+"Why, I'd rather not leave you, but stay with you, and fish, and mend
+your nets, than go and learn a trade."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"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."
+
+Martial shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"So, then, you would rather be an idler, a scamp, a vagabond,--eh?" said
+he, in a stern voice; "and then, perhaps, a thief?"
+
+"No, brother; but I should like to live with you elsewhere, as we live
+here, that's all."
+
+"Yes, that's it; eat, drink, sleep, and amuse yourself with fishing,
+like an independent gentleman,--eh?"
+
+"Yes, I should like it."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, yes, brother; I should like very much to learn anything rather than
+stay here. I should dearly like to go with you and Francois."
+
+"But what have you got on your head, my child?" inquired Martial,
+observing Amandine's very fine head-dress.
+
+"A handkerchief that Nicholas gave me."
+
+"And he gave me one, too," said Francois, with an air of pride.
+
+"And where did these handkerchiefs come from? I should be very much
+surprised to learn that Nicholas bought them to make you a present of."
+
+The two children lowered their eyes, and made no reply. After a second,
+Francois said, with a resolute air, "Nicholas gave them to us. We do not
+know where they came from, do we, Amandine?"
+
+"No, no, brother," replied Amandine, stammering, and turning very red,
+not daring to look Martial in the face.
+
+"Don't tell lies," said Martial, harshly.
+
+"We don't tell lies," replied Francois, doggedly.
+
+"Amandine, my child, tell the truth," said Martial, mildly.
+
+"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."
+
+"And which he had stolen?"
+
+"I think so, brother,--out of a barge."
+
+"So then, Francois, you lie?" said Martial.
+
+The boy bent down his head, but made no reply.
+
+"Give me this handkerchief, Amandine; and yours, too, Francois."
+
+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. Francois drew his slowly out of his pocket,
+and then gave it to his brother, as his sister had done.
+
+"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."
+
+"It is a pity those handkerchiefs were so pretty!" said Francois.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are not angry, brother?" said Amandine, timidly.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Good night, brother!"
+
+Martial kissed the children. They were now alone.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Francois,--you seem very sorrowful!" said
+Amandine.
+
+"Why, brother has taken my nice handkerchief; and besides, didn't you
+hear what he said?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"He means to take us with him, and put us apprentice."
+
+"And ain't you glad?"
+
+"_Ma foi_, no!"
+
+"Would you rather stay here and be beaten every day?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But didn't you understand? Why, brother said that if we remained here
+longer we should become evil-disposed."
+
+"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!"
+
+"But here they are always beating us, brother!"
+
+"They beat us because we listen to Martial more than to any one else."
+
+"Oh, he is so kind to us!"
+
+"Yes, he is kind,--very kind,--I don't say he ain't; 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."
+
+"Why, he has nothing. What he gains he gives our mother to pay for his
+eating, drinking, and lodging."
+
+"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."
+
+"But we must steal for that; and how that would grieve dear, good
+Martial!"
+
+"Well, so much the worse!"
+
+"Oh, Francois! And then we should be taken up and put into prison."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, if he'll take us with him into the woods," said Francois, "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."
+
+The conversation of Francois and Amandine was interrupted. Some one
+outside double-locked their door.
+
+"They have fastened us in," said Francois.
+
+"Oh, what can it be for, brother? What are they going to do to us?"
+
+"It is Martial, perhaps."
+
+"Listen, listen,--how his dog barks!" said Amandine, listening.
+
+After a few minutes, Francois added:
+
+"It sounds as if some one were knocking at his door with a hammer.
+Perhaps they want to force it open!"
+
+"Yes; but how the dog barks still!"
+
+"Listen, Francois! 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!"
+
+"Amandine, I hear nothing now," said Francois, going towards the door.
+
+The two children held their breath, and listened anxiously.
+
+"They are coming from my brother's room," said Francois, in a low voice;
+"I hear them walking in the passage."
+
+"Let us throw ourselves on our beds; mother would kill us if she found
+us out of bed," said Amandine, terrified.
+
+"No," said Francois, still listening; "they have just passed by our
+door, and are running down the staircase."
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear, what can it be?"
+
+"Ah, now they are opening the kitchen door."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"Yes, yes; I know the sound."
+
+"Martial's dog is still howling," said Amandine, listening. Suddenly she
+exclaimed, "Francois, our brother calls us."
+
+"Martial?"
+
+"Yes; don't you hear him? Don't you hear him now?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, as to that, if I could hinder them," exclaimed Francois,
+resolutely, "I would, even if they were to cut me to pieces!"
+
+"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, Francois."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+Francois 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.
+
+A little assured, and excited by intense curiosity, Francois ventured to
+open the window a little way, and tried to look out through the leaves
+of the blind.
+
+"Mind, brother!" said Amandine, in a low voice, and sitting up when she
+heard Francois open the shutter.
+
+"Can you see anything?" she added.
+
+"No, the night is too dark."
+
+"Don't you hear anything?"
+
+"No, the wind is too high."
+
+"Come in, then; come in."
+
+"Oh, now I see something!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"The light of a lantern, which moves backwards and forwards."
+
+"Who's carrying it?"
+
+"I can only see the light. Ah, she comes nearer,--she is speaking!"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Listen,--listen! It is Calabash."
+
+"What does she say?"
+
+"She says the ladder must be fixed securely."
+
+"Oh, it was then in taking away the high ladder that was placed against
+our shutter that they made that noise just now."
+
+"I don't hear anything now."
+
+"What have they done with the ladder?"
+
+"I can't see it now."
+
+"Can you hear anything?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Francois, perhaps they are going to use it to enter our Brother
+Martial's room by the window!"
+
+"Very likely."
+
+"If you could open our window a little more you might see."
+
+"I am afraid."
+
+"Only a little bit."
+
+"Oh, no, no! If mother saw us!"
+
+"It is so dark, there is no danger."
+
+Francois, much against his will, did as his sister requested, and
+pushing the shutter back, looked out.
+
+"Well, brother?" said Amandine, surmounting her fears, and approaching
+Francois on tiptoe.
+
+"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."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Nicholas is going up the ladder with his axe in his hand. I see it
+glitter."
+
+"Ah, you are not in bed, then, but watching us!" exclaimed the widow,
+addressing Francois and his sister from outside. As she was returning to
+the kitchen she saw the light, which escaped through the open window.
+
+The unfortunate children had neglected putting out the lantern.
+
+"I am coming," added the widow, in a terrible voice; "I am coming to
+you, you little spies!"
+
+Such were the events which passed in the Isle du Ravageur on the evening
+of the day before that on which Madame Seraphin was to take
+Fleur-de-Marie thither.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A LODGING-HOUSE.
+
+
+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 Traversiere St. Honore, and at the other into the Cour St.
+Guillaume.
+
+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 _garni_, 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 _garni_.
+
+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.
+
+Father Micou was a stout man, about fifty years of age, with a mean and
+cunning countenance, a mulberry 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Come in!" he cried.
+
+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.)
+
+"Ah, is it you, my fine fellow?" said Micou, cordially.
+
+"Yes, Father Micou, I have come to see you on a trifle of business."
+
+"Then shut the door,--shut the door."
+
+"My dog and cart are there outside with the stuff."
+
+"What do you bring me, double tripe (sheet lead)?"
+
+"No, Father Micou."
+
+"What is it, scrapings? but no, you're too downy now, you've left off
+work. Perhaps it is a bit of hard (iron)?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Go and fetch the flap, and let's weigh it."
+
+"You must lend a hand, daddy, for I've hurt my arm."
+
+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.
+
+"What's the matter with your arm, my man?"
+
+"Nothing,--only a sprain."
+
+"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."
+
+"Thank ye, Father Micou."
+
+"Go and fetch the flap, and I'll come and help you, idle-bones."
+
+At twice the copper was brought out of the cart, drawn by an enormous
+dog, and conveyed into the shop.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"And they're all pretty well at home,--eh?" inquired the receiver,
+weighing the copper; "mother and sister, both pretty bobbish?"
+
+"Yes, Father Micou."
+
+"And the little uns?"
+
+"Yes, the little uns, too. And your nephew, Andre, where is he?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"_Ma foi!_ I don't know."
+
+"Don't know?"
+
+"No," replied Nicholas, assuming an indifferent air; "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."
+
+"At which you would not be dreadfully affected, you bad lot, for you
+can't bear your brother, I know."
+
+"True; we have strange likes and dislikes. How many pounds of metal d'ye
+make?"
+
+"You're right to a hair, just a hundred and fifty pounds, my lad."
+
+"And you owe me--"
+
+"Just thirty francs."
+
+"Thirty francs! when copper is twenty sous a pound? Thirty francs!"
+
+"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."
+
+"But, Father Micou, you are really chiselling me down; that's not the
+right thing by no means."
+
+"If you'll tell me how you came by your copper, I'll give you fifteen
+sous a pound for it."
+
+"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."
+
+"To a hair's turn. What do you want? Chains and hooks for your punts?"
+
+"No, I want four or five sheets of stout iron, as if to line shutters
+with."
+
+"I've just the thing, a quarter of an inch thick; a pistol-ball wouldn't
+go through it."
+
+"Just what I want."
+
+"What size?"
+
+"Why, altogether about seven or eight feet square."
+
+"Good, and what else?"
+
+"Three bars of iron, from three to four feet long, and two inches
+square."
+
+"I have just broken up an iron wicket; nothing can be better for you.
+What next?"
+
+"Two strong hinges and a latch, so that I can open or shut an opening
+two feet square when I wish."
+
+"A trap, you mean?"
+
+"No, a valve."
+
+"I don't understand what you can want with a valve."
+
+"Never you mind; I know what I want."
+
+"That's all right; you have only to choose; there's a heap of hinges.
+What's the next thing?"
+
+"That's all."
+
+"And not much, either."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Thank ye, I won't say no, for I think you owe it me."
+
+Father Micou took from an old closet a bottle of brandy, a cracked
+glass, and a cup without a handle, and filled them.
+
+"Here's to you, Daddy Micou!"
+
+"And to you likewise, my boy, and the ladies at home!"
+
+"Thank ye. And the lodging-house goes on well, eh?"
+
+"Middling,--middling. I have always some lodgers for whom I am always
+fearing a visit from the commissary; but they pay in proportion."
+
+"How d'ye mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Good; but to them you let as dear as you have bought cheaply of me."
+
+"I must look out. I have a cousin who has a handsome furnished house in
+the Rue St. Honore. His wife is a milliner in a large way, and employs,
+perhaps, twenty needlewomen, either in the house, or having the work at
+home."
+
+"I say, old boy, I dare say there's some pretty uns among 'em?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Halloa, daddy, how you are going it!"
+
+"Oh, it's all right, my boy,--all right!"
+
+"'Walker!' old boy. And you say your cousin--"
+
+"Does uncommon well with his house, and, as it is the same number as
+that of the little Rigolette--"
+
+"What, again?"
+
+"Oh, it's all right and proper."
+
+"'Walker!'"
+
+"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."
+
+"And they pays accordingly?"
+
+"In course."
+
+"But they are all in our line who haven't got their riglar papers?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Just one; the liquor's good. Here's t'ye again, Daddy Micou!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Halloa, dad! You're off again. What do these women do?"
+
+"I tell you I don't know; they must be respectable, and yet, as they
+receive letters without any address, it looks queer."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"They sent, this morning, my nephew Andre to the _Poste-Restante_ 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 Andre 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."
+
+"They won't pay you."
+
+"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 that ails them,
+for I don't think they have cooked anything since they came here."
+
+"If you had all such customers, Father Micou--"
+
+"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 Cafe 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."
+
+"When it comes into your alley, Father Micou."
+
+"You're a wag. Another drain, yes, just one more."
+
+"Well, it must be my last, for then I must cut. By the way, doesn't
+Robin, the Gros-Boiteux, lodge here still?"
+
+"Yes, up-stairs, on the same landing as the mother and daughter. He's
+pretty nearly run through his money he earned in gaol."
+
+"I say, mind your eye,--he's outlawed."
+
+"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."
+
+"An independent lady?"
+
+"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.
+Honore."
+
+"I twig! She's independent because the old fellow pays."
+
+"Hush! Here's her maid."
+
+A middle-aged woman, wearing a white apron of very doubtful cleanliness,
+entered the dealer's warehouse.
+
+"What can I do for you, Madame Charles?"
+
+"Father Micou, is your nephew within?"
+
+"He has gone to the post-office; but I expect him in immediately."
+
+"M. Badinot wishes him to take this letter to its address instantly.
+There's no answer, but it is in great haste."
+
+"In a quarter of an hour he will be on his way thither, madame."
+
+"He must make great haste."
+
+"He shall, be assured."
+
+The servant went away.
+
+"Is she the maid of one of your lodgers, Father Micou?"
+
+"She is the _bonne_ 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."
+
+"Oh, bah!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I'll be ready. Four good iron plates, each two feet 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?"
+
+"Yes, and my money?"
+
+"Oh, you shall have your money. But now I look at you in the light--now
+I get a good view of you--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I don't know--but you seem as if something was the matter."
+
+"I do?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, nonsense! If anything ails me it is that I'm hungry."
+
+"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 _something_, for it ain't a trifle that puts you
+out."
+
+"I tell you you're mistaken, Father Micou," said Nicholas, shuddering.
+
+"Why, you quite tremble!"
+
+"It's my arm that pains me."
+
+"Well, don't forget my prescription, that will cure you."
+
+"Thank ye, I'll soon be back." And the ruffian went on his way.
+
+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.
+
+It was M. Badinot, the independent lady's uncle, that Madame
+Saint-Ildefonse, whose social position formed the pride and security of
+Pere 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
+Grauen, and had given that diplomatist many and very precise particulars
+as to many personages connected with this tale.
+
+"Madame Charles has just given you a letter to send?" said M. Badinot,
+to the dealer in _et ceteras_.
+
+"Yes, sir; my nephew I expect every moment, and he shall go directly."
+
+"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.
+
+"Here's the letter, sir; have you any other commission?"
+
+"No, Pere Micou," said M. Badinot, with a protecting air, "but I have
+something to scold you about."
+
+"Me, sir?"
+
+"Very much, indeed."
+
+"About what, sir?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"A village! Very like, indeed! Why, there is always such an infernal din
+in the house."
+
+"Still, it is impossible to find a quieter house. Above the lady, there
+is the leader of the band at the Cafe des Aveugles, and a gentleman
+traveller; over that, another traveller; over that--"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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."
+
+"You should not have taken in such a lodger."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I will send him away, you may be assured. I have no wish to keep him."
+
+"You will only do what's right, for else your house will be forsaken."
+
+"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."
+
+"Which is four days too many; but it is your affair. At the first
+outbreak, my niece leaves your house."
+
+"Be assured, sir--"
+
+"It is all for your own interest,--and look to it, for I am not a man
+of many words," said M. Badinot, with a patronising air, and he went
+out.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE VICTIMS OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE.[6]
+
+
+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.
+
+  [6] "The average punishment awarded to such as are convicted
+  of breach of trust is two months' imprisonment and a fine of
+  twenty-five francs."--_Art. 406 and 408 of the "Code Penal."_
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The harsh contact of the rough linen which covered 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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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?
+Oh, never,--never! Still, however dear and sacred is the memory of a
+brother, should not the welfare of my child be equally so?
+
+"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!
+
+"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, 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--"
+
+After a short silence, Madame de Fermont, leaving her last sentence
+unfinished, indignantly added:
+
+"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.
+
+"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 fingers upon the wrist of her left
+hand, "my fever has left me,--my pulse beats tranquilly."
+
+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:
+
+"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, boast of a dowry
+of more than one hundred thousand crowns--"
+
+Then, as she again returned to the realities of her present position,
+altogether overcome by the painful contrast, Madame de Fermont
+exclaimed, almost frantically:
+
+"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.
+
+"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. 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--"
+
+Then, as her thoughts wandered to the source of all her present
+sufferings and anguish, she mournfully continued:
+
+"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."
+
+For several minutes Madame de Fermont remained absorbed in her
+reflections, then resumed more calmly:
+
+"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."
+
+Several loud and hasty knocks at the door startled Madame de Fermont,
+and made her daughter spring up with a sudden cry.
+
+"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.
+
+"Mamma, mamma," again moaned Claire, "what was that noise that awoke me?
+And why do you seem so much alarmed?"
+
+"I know not, my child, what it was. But calm yourself, there is nothing
+to fear; some one merely knocked at the door,--possibly to bring us a
+letter from the post-office."
+
+At this moment the worm-eaten door shook and rattled beneath the blows
+dealt against it by some powerful fist.
+
+"Who is there?" inquired Madame de Fermont, in a trembling tone.
+
+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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Merciful heavens!" whispered the mother to her daughter, "'tis that
+lame man, who is nearly always intoxicated."
+
+"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."
+
+"I have no light to give you."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I beg of you to go away."
+
+"You don't choose to open your door, then? Once,--twice,--mind, I will
+have it."
+
+"I request you to quit my door immediately, or I will call for
+assistance."
+
+"Once,--twice,--thrice,--you will not? Well, 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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Then with the stupid obstinacy of intoxication, he added, reeling on his
+tottering legs:
+
+"I wanted to come in, and I will come in; and I won't go out until I've
+lighted my pipe."
+
+"I have neither fire nor matches. In heaven's name, sir, do go away."
+
+"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."
+
+"Help, help, help!" exclaimed Madame de Fermont, who felt the door
+yielding before the broad shoulders of the Gros-Boiteux.
+
+Alarmed by her cries, the man retreated a step; and clenching his fist
+at Madame de Fermont, he said:
+
+"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."
+
+And the Gros-Boiteux, as he was called at the Isle du Ravageur, went
+down the staircase, uttering horrible threats.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+Claire looked about her with as much astonishment as fear.
+
+"Take courage, my child," said Madame de Fermont, embracing her
+tenderly; "the wretch has gone."
+
+"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!"
+
+"How you tremble; you are quite in a fever."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Don't think so; I feel better than I did. It is only the fright that
+man caused me which makes me so. I was sleeping soundly in my chair,
+and only awoke when you did."
+
+"Yet, mamma, your poor eyes look so red and inflamed!"
+
+"Why, you see, my dear, one does not sleep so refreshingly in a chair."
+
+"And you really do not suffer?"
+
+"No, no, I assure you. And you?"
+
+"Nor I either. I only tremble with fear. Pray, mamma, let us leave this
+house!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Perhaps M. de Saint-Remy will answer you in a day or two."
+
+"I cannot hope for that. It is so long since I wrote to him."
+
+"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."
+
+"My poor child, you know how much that has cost me already!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"But he may not have received your letter, mamma!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Come, come, courage, mamma; we have still a hope left. Perhaps this
+very morning will bring us a kind answer."
+
+"From M. d'Orbigny?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes; but we have so little claim on his kind interest!"
+
+"We are so unfortunate!"
+
+"It is true that is a claim in the eyes of charitably disposed persons."
+
+"Let us hope that M. d'Orbigny and his wife are so."
+
+"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."
+
+"The lady of whom M. de Saint-Remy has spoken so often, and whose
+kindness and generosity he so much, praised?"
+
+"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 de
+Lucenay must have many acquaintances, and, no doubt, could easily find
+situations for us."
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, but in case Madame de Lucenay cannot do anything for us, I have
+still another resource."
+
+"What is that, mamma?"
+
+"A very poor one,--a very weak hope, perhaps. But why should I not try
+it? M. de Saint-Remy's son is--"
+
+"Has M. de Saint-Remy a son?" exclaimed Claire, interrupting her mother
+with great astonishment.
+
+"Yes, my dear, he has a son."
+
+"Yet he never spoke of him when he used to come to Angers."
+
+"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."
+
+"Fifteen years without seeing his father! Is that possible?"
+
+"Alas, yes! As you see, the son of M. de Saint-Remy, being very much
+sought after in society, and very rich--"
+
+"Very rich, whilst his father is poor?"
+
+"All young M. de Saint-Remy's wealth came from his mother."
+
+"What of that,--how could he leave his father?"
+
+"His father would not accept anything from him."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I think, my dear, that M. de Saint-Remy has not kept up any connection
+with--Still, we cannot but try."
+
+"Unless M. d'Orbigny replies to you favourably, and I repeat, I don't
+know why, but I have hopes, in spite of myself."
+
+"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."
+
+"Perhaps, before he replies, he is considering in what way he can best
+be useful to us."
+
+"May Heaven hear thee, my child!"
+
+"It appears to me plain enough, mamma, if he could not do anything for
+us, he could have written at once, and said so."
+
+"Unless he will do nothing."
+
+"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."
+
+"Alas, my child, there is sometimes so much indifference for the
+miseries persons have never known!"
+
+"But your letter--"
+
+"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."
+
+"No, mamma, don't mind me; but tell me, suppose 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?"
+
+"Oh, be silent, my unfortunate child!"
+
+"But really, mamma, is it possible?"
+
+"Alas!"
+
+"But God, who knows all, who can do all, will he abandon us, who have
+never offended him?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, yes, let us hope, that is best. No doubt the porter's nephew will
+return to-day from the _Poste-Restante_ 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."
+
+"How could I, my dear? Only think, just now, that horrid man who burst
+open the door! Suppose you had been alone?"
+
+"Oh, mamma, pray don't talk of it; it quite frightens me only to think
+of it."
+
+At this moment some one knocked suddenly at the door.
+
+"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:
+
+"Madame, my nephew, Andre, has come from the _Poste-Restante_. 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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Twenty sous," said the man, giving her the anxiously desired letter.
+
+"I will pay you, sir."
+
+"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."
+
+"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., _Poste-Restante_, a Paris."
+
+"Well, mamma, am I right? Oh, how my heart beats!"
+
+"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.
+
+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 and gratitude to the generous heart which pities
+his miserable condition--bitter and intense resentment against selfish
+indifference!
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, my love; but on the other hand--"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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 case you
+should like to undertake the superintendence of my house.'"
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"No," said Madame de Fermont, "I will read it! It is from the Comtesse
+d'Orbigny."
+
+"So much the better," replied Claire.
+
+"We shall see." And Madame de Fermont read as follows in a trembling
+voice:
+
+      "'MADAME:--M. the Comte d'Orbigny, who has been a great invalid
+    for some time, could not reply to you during my absence--'"
+
+"You see, mamma, it was no one's fault."
+
+"Listen, listen!
+
+    "'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.
+
+                                       "'COMTESSE D'ORBIGNY.'"
+
+The mother and daughter looked at each other perfectly stupefied, and
+incapable of uttering a word. Father Micou rapped at the door, and said:
+
+"Madame, may I come in for the postage and commission? It's twenty
+sous."
+
+"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.
+
+"What do you say, mamma,--the bag with the money in it?"
+
+But Madame de Fermont, rising suddenly, opened the room door, and,
+addressing the receiver, who was on the landing-place:
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+The wretched woman was thunderstruck. She could 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:
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"_Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_"
+
+"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.
+
+"Mother, dear, oh, what ails you?" exclaimed Claire, still in her bed.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE RUE DE CHAILLOT.
+
+
+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 Elysees, the most fashionable
+promenade in Paris.
+
+It is useless to enumerate the advantages which M. de Saint-Remy, who
+was decidedly a man _a bonnes fortunes_, 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. 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+It would be unavailing to say that all these rooms, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 a most excellent coachman,
+and a man perfectly capable of superintending the training of
+race-horses on which he had betted heavily.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Do you know, my dear Edwards," said Boyer, "that your maid, Betty,
+really does your meals in a very fair manner! _Ma foi!_ now and then one
+gets tired of high living."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I want your advice on a very important point, and that's the reason I
+have begged you to come and take a cup of tea with me."
+
+"I'm at your service, my dear Edwards."
+
+"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."
+
+"That was moderate enough."
+
+"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_l._) 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.'"
+
+"And you very wisely acceded to the proposal, Edwards? It was a golden
+gain to you."
+
+"No doubt. In another fortnight the six months will have expired, and I
+become proprietor of the horses and carriages."
+
+"Nothing plainer. The agreement was drawn up by M. Badinot, the
+vicomte's man of business, what do you want with my advice?"
+
+"What should I do? To sell the horses and carriages in consequence of M.
+le Vicomte's departure? All 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?"
+
+"I advise you to do what I shall do myself."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"I am in the same position as yourself."
+
+"You?"
+
+"M. le Vicomte detests details. When I entered in his service I had, by
+savings and inheritance, sixty thousand francs (2,400_l._). 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_l._). 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."
+
+"Because on that outlay you have a profit."
+
+"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--"
+
+"The furniture is yours, as the horses and carriages are mine."
+
+"Precisely so. M. le Vicomte has gained by this, by living for the last
+few months as he likes to live, _en grand seigneur_,--and that in the
+very teeth of his creditors; for furniture, plate, horses, carriages,
+which had all been paid for ready money when he came of age, have now
+become the property of yourself and myself."
+
+"And so M. le Vicomte is really ruined?"
+
+"In five years."
+
+"And M. le Vicomte inherited--"
+
+"Only a miserable million (40,000_l._), 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_l._), 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?"
+
+"Unquestionably. Why don't you do so?"
+
+"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_l._) 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 _valet de chambre_. He patronises
+me,--the fool!" And M. Boyer shrugged his shoulders, whilst he inhaled
+another large pinch of snuff.
+
+"You hope to get rid of him?"
+
+"_Parbleu_, 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."
+
+"Two hundred and fifty thousand livres a year in land!" replied Edwards,
+reflecting; "and a young man! It is a good house?"
+
+"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."
+
+"_Ma foi_, 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."
+
+"True, you may make a profitable affair of it."
+
+"And you, why don't you propose to him this house so admirably fitted up
+in every way? What could he find better?"
+
+"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 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."
+
+"And the horses!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"They say, too, that M. le Vicomte is such a capital player?"
+
+"Admirable! Gaining large sums with even more indifference than he loses
+them! And yet I never saw any one lose with better taste!"
+
+"And the women, Boyer,--the women! Ah, you could tell a tale! You have
+the sole _entree_ to the apartments of the ground floor--"
+
+"I have my secrets as you have yours, my dear fellow."
+
+"Mine?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Hush, my dear Boyer, a gentleman never compromises the reputation of a
+jockey who is against him, and has the weakness to listen--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, good! What will he do now?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And he has no future expectancies?"
+
+"None; for his father has nothing but just enough to live upon."
+
+"His father?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"M. le Vicomte's father is not dead?"
+
+"He was not dead five or six months ago when M. le Vicomte wrote to him
+for some family papers."
+
+"But we never see him here?"
+
+"For reasons good. For fifteen years he has resided in the country at
+Angers."
+
+"But M. le Vicomte never visits him?"
+
+"His father?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Never--never!"
+
+"Have they quarrelled, then?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Father of Madame de Lucenay?" said Edwards, with a knowing glance at
+Boyer, who, appearing not to understand him, replied coolly:
+
+"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 melting of which we have had the honour to be
+present." And M. Boyer bowed. Edwards imitated him.
+
+"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."
+
+"That often happens to these Poles. When I was at the Marquis de
+Senneval's, the marquise, a regular she-devil--"
+
+"My dear Edwards," interrupted M. Boyer, "you should learn the alliances
+of our great families before you speak, or you will sadly blunder."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Madame la Marquise de Senneval is sister of M. le Duc de Montbrison,
+into whose establishment you wish to enter."
+
+"Ah, the devil!"
+
+"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."
+
+"True, Boyer; I must endeavour to 'get up' my peerage."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"What determination!"
+
+"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."
+
+"What a man! What a man!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And the mother of M. le Vicomte?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Who, moreover, detests him."
+
+[Illustration: _He exhibited such ferocious joy._
+Original Etching by Mercier.]
+
+"He never would see him after the discovery in question, being fully
+persuaded, no doubt, that he is the son of the Pole."
+
+The conversation of these two personages was interrupted by a gigantic
+footman, elaborately powdered, although it was scarcely eleven o'clock.
+
+"M. Boyer, M. le Vicomte has rung his bell twice," said the giant.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE COMTE DE SAINT-REMY.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The door of his son's house opened, and he went in.
+
+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.
+
+"M. de Saint-Remy?" said the comte, in an abrupt tone.
+
+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.
+
+"M. de Saint-Remy?" again said the comte, impatiently, and much
+irritated at the insolent demeanour of the porter.
+
+"M. le Vicomte is not at home."
+
+So saying, the co-mate of M. Pipelet opened the door, and, with a
+significant gesture, invited the unknown to retire.
+
+"I will wait for him," said the comte, and he moved forward.
+
+"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.
+
+"What, fellow!" replied the old man, with a threatening air, and lifting
+his cane, "dare you to lay your hands on me?"
+
+"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?"
+
+At this moment Boyer, attracted by the sound of contending voices,
+appeared on the steps which led to the house.
+
+"What is the meaning of this noise?" he inquired.
+
+"M. Boyer, it is this man, who will go into the house, although I have
+told him that M. le Vicomte is not within."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"If M. le Comte will follow me, I will conduct him--"
+
+"Very well!" said M. de Saint-Remy, who followed Boyer, to the extreme
+amazement of the porter.
+
+Preceded by the _valet de chambre_, the comte reached the first story,
+and followed his guide across the small 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.
+
+"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 _valet de chambre_ quitted the
+apartment.
+
+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.
+
+"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 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!"
+
+After a moment of deep reflection the comte shrugged his shoulders and
+continued:
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+It is necessary to offer some explanation of this unexpected visit.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+She could not repress a shriek.
+
+"Clotilde!" exclaimed the comte, greatly astonished.
+
+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.
+
+"You, Clotilde!" repeated the comte, in an accent of painful reproach;
+"you here, in my son's house!"
+
+These last words confirmed the vague reminiscence of Madame de Lucenay,
+who then recognised Florestan's father, and said:
+
+"M. de Saint-Remy?"
+
+The position was so plain and declaratory that the duchess, whose
+peculiar and resolute character is known 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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, I called you so then; but--"
+
+"I know beforehand all you would say: you know my motto, 'What is, is
+what will be.'"
+
+"Oh, Clotilde!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"It is because your father was my friend that--"
+
+"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!"
+
+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
+other than to meet her lover's father in her lover's house.
+
+"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!'"
+
+Assuredly the duchess could not have discoursed with more confirmed
+tranquillity if she were receiving a morning visit at the Hotel de
+Lucenay. M. de Saint-Remy could not prevent himself from saying with
+severity:
+
+"Instead of talking of the past, it would be more fitting to discourse
+of the present. My son is expected every instant, and--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Me? Reproach me?"
+
+"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--"
+
+Here Madame de Lucenay, yielding to the whimsicality of her character,
+could not help laughing most heartily, and saying to the comte:
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"I know it well, and do not refuse your aid, although--"
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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?
+
+"Perhaps you do not know, Clotilde," said the comte, "that I have been
+living at Angers for a very long time?"
+
+"Yes, I know it."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Yes, that terrible duel; my father told me all concerning 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."
+
+"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_l._), which was all the widow's
+fortune, with a notary.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, that address--"
+
+"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."
+
+The Duchess de Lucenay, who had been listening to the comte with the
+utmost attention, said, suddenly:
+
+"Really it would be very singular if these should be the same persons in
+whom Madame d'Harville takes so much interest."
+
+"What persons?" inquired the comte.
+
+"The widow of whom you speak is still young, is she not?--her face very
+striking?"
+
+"Yes, but how do you know?"
+
+"Her daughter, as lovely as an angel, and about sixteen at most?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"And her name is Claire?"
+
+"Oh, for mercy's sake, say, where are they?"
+
+"Alas! I know not."
+
+"You know not?"
+
+"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."
+
+"She wished to write to you; and wherefore to you?"
+
+"I cannot solve your question."
+
+"But she knew you, it would seem," said M. de Saint-Remy, struck with a
+sudden idea.
+
+"What mean you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"That really does explain this."
+
+"And Madame d'Harville--tell me, how did she get this sketch of a letter
+into her possession?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Then I rely on you, Clotilde, to introduce me to Madame d'Harville. I
+must see her this very day."
+
+"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."
+
+"How horrible!"
+
+"The marquise went instantly to pass the first months of her mourning
+with her father in Normandy."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"To Asnieres _Poste-Restante_."
+
+"How odd! Why do you live there, and not in Paris?"
+
+"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 Asnieres, 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."
+
+"I will then write to you at Asnieres, 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."
+
+"The scoundrel! And his name?"
+
+"M. Jacques Ferrand," replied the duchess, without being able to conceal
+her inclination to laugh.
+
+"How strange you are, Clotilde!" said the comte, surprised and annoyed;
+"nothing can be more serious, more sad than this, and yet you laugh."
+
+In fact, Madame de Lucenay, at the recollection of the amorous
+declaration of the notary, had been unable to repress her hilarity.
+
+"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."
+
+"And he lives--"
+
+"Rue du Sentier."
+
+"I will call upon him. What you tell me confirms certain other
+suspicions."
+
+"What suspicions?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what can make you suppose that?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What, will you go without seeing Florestan?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Ah, you are pitiless!"
+
+"Do you not know?"
+
+"I know that your son was never in greater need of your advice."
+
+"What, is he not rich--happy?"
+
+"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 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--"
+
+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:
+
+"But it is impossible."
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE INTERVIEW.
+
+
+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!
+
+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:
+
+"He is innocent; I will swear it. Listen in silence."
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Now, my dear aristocrat," replied Badinot, coolly, "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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"It is really as I tell you, unless you have again recourse to your
+charming, blue-eyed Providence."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"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_l._) 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?"
+
+"What can I do? What can I do? Nothing here is my own, and I have not
+twenty louis in the world left."
+
+"Your friends?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, tell me now, if that will do any good."
+
+"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_l._), and, my dear Badinot, I wish you to find me
+the means of cashing them.'"
+
+"Well, and then--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Never mind your astonishment, but come to the point."
+
+"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."
+
+"Impossible! He would not have discounted the bills if he had believed
+them forged."
+
+"How much money down did you get for these hundred and thirteen thousand
+francs?"
+
+"Twenty-five thousand francs in ready money, and the rest in small debts
+to collect."
+
+"And how much of these small debts did you collect?"
+
+"Nothing, as you very well know; they were fictitious; but still he
+risked twenty-five thousand francs."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"But why did he say that this last bill which he presents to-day was
+negotiated?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Scoundrel!"
+
+"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 forthcoming, noble vicomte, you
+will be in the 'Stone Jug.'"
+
+"Which you keep saying to me--"
+
+"In order that you may thoroughly comprehend me, and agree, perhaps, to
+try and draw another feather from the wing of this generous duchess."
+
+"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."
+
+"To please you, happy mortal, impossibilities would be attempted!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Petit-Jean is as inflexible as you are unreasonable."
+
+"I!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"I will never make to her any such confession; it would be to shame
+myself for no advantage."
+
+"Do you prefer, then, that she should learn the fact to-morrow by the
+_Gazette des Tribunaux_."
+
+"I have three hours before me, and can fly."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"Hell! Must I, then, drink the draught of shame to the very dregs?"
+
+"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.
+
+When the door was closed, they heard Florestan exclaim in accents of the
+deepest despair: "_Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_"
+
+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?"
+
+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 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.
+
+Still too young, too handsome, too _recherche_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"And I, too, for you,--for me,--and for this man,--I know what remains
+for me to do."
+
+"Who is there?" inquired Florestan, surprised.
+
+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.
+
+"What are you doing there? Who are you?"
+
+"The husband of that woman!" replied the comte, pointing to the picture
+of Madame de Saint-Remy.
+
+"My father!" exclaimed Florestan, recoiling in alarm, as he recalled the
+features of the comte, so long forgotten.
+
+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.
+
+"My father!" said Florestan, half choked. "You were there?"
+
+"I was there."
+
+"You heard, then?"
+
+"All!"
+
+"Ah!" cried the vicomte, in agony, and hiding his face in his hands.
+
+There was a minute's silence. Florestan, at first as much astonished as
+annoyed at the unexpected appearance of his father, began to reflect
+upon what advantage he could derive from this incident.
+
+"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:
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+The vicomte took his father's silence for tacit consent, and continued:
+
+"When I had the misfortune to lose my mother--my 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 elite. This success is
+rare, but I acquired it."
+
+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:
+
+"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 fetes which I gave, and everywhere wonder
+was expressed at the incomparable elegance and taste displayed at these
+fetes, 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."
+
+"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 in your gang, and will be called _a la_ Saint-Remy,"
+said the old man, with cutting irony, adding, "and Saint-Remy,--that is
+my name!" And again he was silent.
+
+Florestan had need of all his self-control to conceal the wound which
+this bitter sarcasm inflicted. He continued in a more humble tone:
+
+"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--"
+
+"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."
+
+"And this man, my father?"
+
+"Was a forger they were conveying to gaol."
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 duels that I did not fear death. I determined to
+kill myself!"
+
+"Ah! Bah! Really?" said the comte, with fierce irony.
+
+"You do not believe me, father?"
+
+"It was too soon or too late!" replied the old man, still unmoved, and
+in the same attitude.
+
+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 _coup de theatre_. He opened a drawer, took from it a small
+bottle of greenish glass, and said to the comte, depositing it on the
+table:
+
+"An Italian quack sold me this poison."
+
+"And was this poison for yourself?" said the old man, still having his
+chin in the palm of his hand.
+
+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:
+
+"I have fallen very low, but not so low as that. It was for myself that
+I reserved this poison."
+
+"And then were afraid of it?" asked the comte, without changing his
+posture.
+
+"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."
+
+[Illustration: _Was about to embrace his father._
+Etching by Marcel after the drawing by Frank T. Merrill.]
+
+The comte rose from his seat, saying:
+
+"I do not desire to have my name dishonoured."
+
+"Oh, my father!" exclaimed the vicomte, with warmth, and was about to
+embrace his father, when the old man, repressing his enthusiasm, said:
+
+"You are expected until three o'clock at the man's house who has the
+forged bill?"
+
+"Yes, father, and it is now two o'clock."
+
+"Let us go into your cabinet; give me writing materials."
+
+"They are here, father."
+
+The comte sat down and wrote, with a firm hand:
+
+      "I undertake to pay this evening, at ten o'clock, the
+    twenty-five thousand francs which my son owes.
+
+                                        "COMTE DE SAINT-REMY."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, my father! How can I ever--"
+
+"Expect me this evening; at ten o'clock I will bring the money. Let your
+creditor be here."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"My father, at least shake hands with me!" said Florestan.
+
+"Here this evening at ten o'clock," said the comte, refusing his hand.
+
+"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!"
+
+He rang the bell, and M. Boyer appeared.
+
+"How was it that you did not inform me that my father was here? Really,
+this is most negligent."
+
+"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."
+
+"Very well. Desire Edwards to harness Orion or Ploughboy in the
+cabriolet immediately."
+
+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.
+
+"Come in!" said Florestan.
+
+A second _valet de chambre_ 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.
+
+The two servants withdrew discreetly.
+
+Florestan broke open the envelope. It contained twenty-five thousand
+francs in treasury bills, but not a word of writing.
+
+"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! _Pardieu!_ 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 strange! How very opportune, though! Ah,
+_mon Dieu!_ 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."
+
+"Your lordship's cabriolet is at the door," said M. Boyer, on entering
+the room.
+
+"Who brought this letter?" Florestan inquired.
+
+"I do not know, my lord."
+
+"Well, I will ask below. But tell me, was there no one in the ground
+floor?" asked the vicomte, looking significantly at Boyer.
+
+"There is no one there now, my lord."
+
+"I was not mistaken," thought Florestan; "Clotilde waited for me, and is
+now gone."
+
+"If your lordship would have the goodness to grant me two minutes," said
+Boyer.
+
+"Speak, but be quick!"
+
+"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."
+
+"_Pardieu!_ 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?"
+
+"Your lordship will easily understand that we are desirous of profiting
+as much as possible by your generosity."
+
+"And turn your bargain to the best advantage? Nothing can be plainer!
+Let us see,--what's the price?"
+
+"The whole, two hundred and sixty thousand francs (10,400_l._), my
+lord."
+
+"And you and Edwards will thus clear--"
+
+"About forty thousand francs (1,600_l._), my lord."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE SEARCH.
+
+
+The Hotel 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.
+
+About nine o'clock in the evening of this day the two vast folding-doors
+of this hotel 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.
+
+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 _prima sera_,
+the hour which she constantly reserved for him.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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 usually sat. A last look at himself in a glass which
+he passed completed the excellent opinion which Florestan had of
+himself. The _valet de chambre_ opened the folding-doors of the salon,
+and announced, "Monsieur the Vicomte de Saint-Remy!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Dearest Clotilde, how good you are! How you--"
+
+The vicomte could not finish. The duchess was 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.
+
+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:
+
+"Clotilde, what ails you? I never saw you look so lovely, and yet--"
+
+"Really, this is too impudent!" exclaimed the duchess, recoiling with
+such disgust and hauteur that Florestan was again overcome with
+surprise.
+
+Resuming some assurance, he said to her:
+
+"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?"
+
+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:
+
+"I am aware, madame, that it is thus you habitually break off. Is it a
+rupture that you now desire?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Madame!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"It is true, then, as I guessed, the twenty-five thousand francs--"
+
+"Your last forgery is withdrawn, is it not? The honour of your family's
+name is saved,--that is well,--go!"
+
+"Ah! believe me--"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+A burst of derisive laughter from the duchess hailed this tragic
+exclamation, and she added, between two fits of fresh hilarity:
+
+"I could never have believed infamy could appear so ridiculous!"
+
+"Madame!" cried Florestan, his features contracted with rage.
+
+The two folding-doors opened with a loud noise, and M. le Duc de
+Montbrison was announced.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The vicomte had the weakness or the audacity to remain.
+
+"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:
+
+"Kiss it, cousin,--you have your gloves on."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Nothing, cousin; when I leave you, I shall go to the club."
+
+"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."
+
+"I shall be but too happy."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, you are right, cousin."
+
+"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."
+
+"Most joyfully, happily, cousin!" said the young duke, emphatically.
+
+It is impossible to describe the mute rage of Florestan, 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.
+
+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 fetes, from which he, ruined, undone,
+despised, dishonoured, was expelled.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Good evening, sir; a thousand pardons for not having observed you
+before."
+
+M. de Montbrison, perceiving that he had really failed in politeness,
+turned around instantly, and said cordially to the vicomte:
+
+"Really, sir, I am ashamed; but I hope that my cousin, who caused my
+forgetfulness, will be my excuse, and--"
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"I will not say more, sir, since my cousin forbids me. You see her
+guardianship has begun."
+
+"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."
+
+"To me, sir?" said Conrad, beginning to take offence at the sardonic
+tone of Florestan.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I do not understand you, sir," said M. de Montbrison, more and more
+astonished.
+
+"I will tell you, Conrad, why you cannot accept the offer that is made
+you," said Clotilde.
+
+"And why, Madame la Duchesse, cannot the duke accept my offer?"
+
+"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."
+
+Florestan bit his lips with rage.
+
+"Take care, madame!" he cried.
+
+"What, threats! and here, sir?" exclaimed Conrad.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+Madame de Lucenay, not from embarrassment, for she was never
+embarrassed, as we know, but because Florestan's presence was as
+disgusting as it was insupportable, said to the duke:
+
+"We are ready to go as soon as you please. I am going to introduce
+Conrad to Madame de Senneval."
+
+"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.
+
+"Monsieur, what ails you?" she inquired; "you frighten me exceedingly."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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 Sevres china; whilst the other, falling on the ground, rolled on a
+fur hearth rug, which took flame, but was soon extinguished under
+Conrad's foot.
+
+At the same moment, two _valets de chambre_, 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:
+
+"The duchess's carriage."
+
+Clotilde, having somewhat recovered her composure, said:
+
+"Really, my lord, there is no man in the world but yourself capable of
+exciting laughter at so lamentable an event."
+
+"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 Merinville, 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 Merinville?"
+
+"Really, my lord, have you lost your wits?" said the duchess, shrugging
+her shoulders.
+
+"It's true enough, though," continued the duke; "one would give twenty
+indifferent persons for one friend; eh, Saint-Remy?"
+
+"Unquestionably."
+
+"It is the old story of the tailor over again. Do you know it,
+Conrad,--the story of the tailor?"
+
+"No, cousin."
+
+"You will understand the allegory at once. A tailor 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?"
+
+"Yes, cousin."
+
+"And you, Saint-Remy?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Her grace's carriage!" said one of the servants.
+
+"But, I say, why haven't you put on your diamonds?" asked M. de Lucenay,
+abruptly; "with that dress they would look remarkably well."
+
+Saint-Remy shuddered.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, he knows them well enough!" said Clotilde; and then she added,
+"Your arm, Conrad."
+
+M. de Lucenay followed the duchess with Saint-Remy, who could scarcely
+repress his anger.
+
+"Aren't you coming with us to the Sennevals, Saint-Remy?" inquired M. de
+Lucenay.
+
+"No, impossible," he replied, briefly.
+
+"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."
+
+"What list?"
+
+"That of the people whom I should not have cared to see die, provided
+D'Harville had been left to us."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Thank you," said Saint-Remy, dryly, "I cannot accompany you."
+
+"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?"
+
+And at this moment, the duchess's berline having drawn up at the steps,
+she entered it.
+
+"Now, cousin," said Conrad, waiting for M. de Lucenay with an air of
+deference.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"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!"
+
+"My dear fellow, Madame de Lucenay and your cousin are waiting for you,"
+said M. de Saint-Remy, with bitterness.
+
+"_Pardieu!_ and that's true. What a forgetful rascal I am! _Au revoir_,
+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.
+
+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 entered as master, and which now he so ignominiously
+quitted, a look of anger, hatred, and despair.
+
+"Home!" he said, abruptly.
+
+"To the hotel!" said the footman to Edwards, as he closed the door.
+
+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:
+
+"M. le Comte is above, and waits for M. le Vicomte."
+
+"Very well."
+
+"And there is also a man whom your lordship appointed at ten o'clock,--a
+M. Petit-Jean."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Is the man here who holds the forged bill?" inquired the comte,
+interrupting his son.
+
+"Yes, father, he is below."
+
+"Desire him to come up."
+
+Florestan rang, and Boyer appeared.
+
+"Desire M. Petit-Jean to come up."
+
+"Yes, my lord," and Boyer withdrew.
+
+"How good you are, father, to remember your kind promise!"
+
+"I always remember what I promise."
+
+"What gratitude do I owe you! How can I ever prove to you--"
+
+"I will not have my name dishonoured! It shall not be!"
+
+"It shall not be! No, it shall never be, I swear to you, my father!"
+
+The comte looked strangely at his son, and repeated:
+
+"No, it shall never be!" Then he added, with a sarcastic air, "You are a
+prophet."
+
+"I read my resolution in my heart."
+
+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.
+
+"M. Petit-Jean," said Boyer, introducing a man of a mean, sordid, and
+crafty look.
+
+"Where is the bill?" inquired the comte.
+
+"Here it is, sir," said Petit-Jean (Jacques Ferrand the notary's man of
+straw), handing the bill to the comte.
+
+"Is this it?" said the latter, showing the bill to his son.
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+The comte took from his waistcoat pocket twenty-five notes of a thousand
+francs each, handed them to his son, and said:
+
+"Pay!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+The noise of a door being double-locked made the vicomte start. His
+father returned to the room. His pallor had even increased.
+
+"I fancied, father, I heard you lock the door of my cabinet?"
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+"And why, my dear father?" asked Florestan, greatly amazed.
+
+"I will tell you."
+
+And the comte placed himself so that his son could not pass out by the
+secret staircase which led to the ground floor.
+
+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.
+
+"What ails you, father?"
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Can you indeed think--"
+
+"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."
+
+"If I did not change my conduct, assuredly; but I shall change it,
+father, I have sworn to you."
+
+"You will not change it."
+
+"But--"
+
+"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."
+
+"I an assassin?--I?"
+
+"Yes, because you are a coward!"
+
+"I have had duels, and have evinced--"
+
+"I tell you, you are a coward! You have already 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."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Who knocks?" inquired the comte.
+
+"In the name of the law, open! Open!" said a voice.
+
+"That forgery, then, was not the last," exclaimed the comte, in a low
+voice, and looking at his son with a terrible air.
+
+"Yes, my father, I swear it!" exclaimed Florestan, endeavouring, but
+vainly, to extricate himself from the vigorous grasp of his father.
+
+"In the name of the law, open!" repeated the voice.
+
+"What is it you seek?" demanded the comte.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Kill me?"
+
+"There is already too much dishonour on my name,--it must end. I have
+here two pistols; you must 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."
+
+And, with a fearful _sang-froid_, the comte drew a pistol from his
+pocket, and, with the hand that was free, presented it to his son,
+saying:
+
+"Now an end to this, if, indeed, you are not a coward!"
+
+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.
+
+"My father!" he exclaimed.
+
+"You must die!"
+
+"I repent!"
+
+"It is too late. Hark! They are forcing in the door!"
+
+"I will expiate my faults!"
+
+"They are entering! Must I then kill you with my own hand?"
+
+"Pardon!"
+
+"The door gives way! You will then have it so!"
+
+And the comte placed the muzzle of the weapon against Florestan's
+breast.
+
+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:
+
+"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 of consolation,--pity,--farewell!" said
+Florestan; and his trembling lips, his paleness, his agitated features,
+all betokened the terrible emotion of this frightful moment.
+
+"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."
+
+A loud cracking of the cabinet door announced that it was being forced.
+
+"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!"
+
+In spite of his sternness, the comte could not repress a shudder, as he
+said, in a voice of emotion:
+
+"I forgive you."
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Informed by Boyer that the vicomte was shut up with his father, the
+magistrate understood all, and respected his deep grief.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Sir," said the magistrate, sorrowfully, after a few 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."
+
+"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."
+
+"In the Rue Richelieu? He is very well known," replied the magistrate.
+
+"What is the estimated value of the stolen diamonds?"
+
+"About thirty thousand francs. The person who bought them, and by whom
+the fraud was detected, gave that amount for them to your son."
+
+"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."
+
+The commissary bowed. The comte left the room.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"It was a trick, and he has escaped by this door!" he exclaimed, with
+vexation.
+
+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.
+
+In spite of the most careful search throughout the house, they could not
+discover Florestan.
+
+During the conversation with his father and the commissary, he had
+quickly gained the boudoir, then the conservatory, then the lone alley,
+and so to the Champs Elysees.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The picture of this ignoble degradation in opulence is a sad thing.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+How can it be otherwise? Who imparts to inexperienced youth that
+knowledge, that instruction, those rudiments of individual and social
+economy? No one.
+
+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?
+
+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!
+
+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?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE ADIEUX.
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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 fallen for ever, ungrateful and wretched as I
+am! Oh, if it were so, death were a hundred times preferable!"
+
+Let us hasten to say that the unhappy girl, thus a martyr to her
+feelings, greatly exaggerated what she called her love.
+
+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.
+
+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 protegee of La Goualeuse was sitting
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You will not then leave off your work even during the time for rest, my
+good angel?" said Mont Saint-Jean to La Goualeuse.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, Mont Saint-Jean; I am attending to you," replied Fleur-de-Marie,
+stooping her lovely face towards the hideous countenance of her
+companion.
+
+"Ah, you'll laugh at me," she replied, sorrowfully. "I want to say
+something, and I do not know how."
+
+"Oh, yes, say it, Mont Saint-Jean!"
+
+"How kind you look always," said the prisoner, looking 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?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"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--"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"It is God you should thank, Mont Saint-Jean, and not me."
+
+"Yes, yes, yes, it is you, I see you; and it is you who did me such
+kindness, by yourself and others."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Come and sit here by me," said La Goualeuse.
+
+"Oh, no, indeed; never, never!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Respect discipline, as my brave Mont Saint-Jean used to say; soldiers
+together, officers together, each with his equals."
+
+"You are crazy; there is no difference between us two."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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?"
+
+La Goualeuse shuddered at these words. In fact, what was to become of
+the child of this miserable, degraded, abased, poor, despised creature?
+
+"What a fate! What a future!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Pray, pray, and God will hear you."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Yes, but La Louve became very good to you as soon as she reflected that
+you were doubly to be pitied."
+
+"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?"
+
+"She is rather wilful."
+
+"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."
+
+"How?"
+
+"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 the woman says another
+thing, which I really cannot believe."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"Why, that she had seen La Louve crying; La Louve crying,--that's
+impossible!"
+
+"Poor Louve! It was on my account she changed her quarters; I vexed her
+without intending it," said La Goualeuse, with a sigh.
+
+"You vex any one, my good angel?"
+
+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.
+
+"Good news, my child."
+
+"What do you mean, madame?" said La Goualeuse, rising.
+
+"Your friends have not forgotten you, they have obtained your discharge;
+the governor has just received the information."
+
+"Can it be possible, madame? Ah, what happiness!"
+
+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.
+
+"Don't agitate yourself, my poor girl," said Madame Armand, kindly.
+"Fortunately these shocks are not dangerous."
+
+"Ah, madame, what gratitude!"
+
+"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."
+
+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
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Mont Saint-Jean, as I am now free, can I be in any way useful to you?"
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter?" said La Goualeuse. "You are weeping!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"I assure you that I shall always think of your good feeling towards me,
+Mont Saint-Jean."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Courage! Courage! I will think of you, as you will remember me."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Part from it! Never, oh, never!" exclaimed Mont Saint-Jean, with
+excitement. "What would become of me now, when I have so built upon it?"
+
+"But how will you bring it up? Boy or girl, it ought to be made honest;
+and for that--"
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?'"
+
+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.
+
+"Poor creature!" said Madame Armand, as she quitted the yard,
+accompanied by Fleur-de-Marie, "her gratitude towards you gives me a
+better opinion of her."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+When Fleur-de-Marie had quitted the prison buildings, the inspectress
+said to her:
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, madame, is it not through your recommendation that this young lady
+to whom I owe my liberty has become interested in me?"
+
+"Yes, and I am happy that I did so; my presentiments had not deceived
+me."
+
+At this moment a clock struck.
+
+"That is the hour of work; I must return to the rooms. Adieu! Once more
+adieu, my dear child!"
+
+Madame Armand, as much affected as Fleur-de-Marie, embraced her
+tenderly, and then said to one of the women employed in the
+establishment:
+
+"Take mademoiselle to the vestiary."
+
+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 Seraphin 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+RECOLLECTIONS.
+
+
+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.
+
+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
+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 Seraphin
+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.
+
+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 Seraphin
+exciting any mistrust in the mind of her victim. Madame Seraphin 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 Seraphin, 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.
+
+"Well, my dear," cried Madame Seraphin, speaking in a tone of honeyed
+sweetness, as Fleur-de-Marie drew near, "I suppose you are very glad to
+get away from prison."
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed, ma'am. I presume it is Madame d'Harville who has had
+the goodness to obtain my liberty for me?"
+
+"You are not mistaken in your guess. But, come, we are already a little
+behindhand, and we have still some distance to go."
+
+"We are going to Madame Georges at the farm at Bouqueval, are we not,
+madame?" cried La Goualeuse.
+
+"Oh, yes, certainly, by all means!" answered the _femme de charge_, 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!"
+
+And, with a multitude of bows and salutations from Madame Seraphin 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.
+
+"Rigolette!" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, as she recognised her old prison
+companion, and the sharer in her rural excursions.[7]
+
+  [7] 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 _maison de detention_ until she had
+  reached the age of sixteen.
+
+"La Goualeuse!" returned the grisette, and with one accord the two girls
+threw themselves into each other's arms.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Dear, dear Goualeuse!" exclaimed the grisette, fixing her bright eyes
+with intense delight on her companion. "To think of meeting you at
+last, after so long an absence!"
+
+"It is, indeed, a delightful surprise!" replied Fleur-de-Marie. "It is
+so very long since we have seen each other."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes," answered Fleur-de-Marie, casting down her eyes, "I have done so
+for some time past."
+
+"And I suppose that, like me, you have come to see some friend in this
+prison?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"Yes," said Fleur-de-Marie, nearly sinking with confusion, "quite
+right."
+
+"There is only one thing I have to reproach you for."
+
+"Reproach me?" inquired Fleur-de-Marie, looking tearfully at her
+companion.
+
+"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."
+
+"I--I--quitted Paris so suddenly," stammered out Fleur-de-Marie,
+becoming momentarily more and more embarrassed, "that, indeed--I--was
+not able--"
+
+"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, 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?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I recollect them very well!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, hanging down her head, and
+blushing the deep blush of shame.
+
+Rigolette, misinterpreting the real cause of her friend's exclamation,
+continued:
+
+"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?"
+
+"Alas!" cried Fleur-de-Marie, "I accuse them not; on the contrary, I
+pity them from my heart!"
+
+"Come, come, my dear child!" interrupted Madame Seraphin, impatiently
+offering her arm to her victim, "you forget that I said we were already
+behind our time."
+
+"Pray, madame, grant us a little more time," said Rigolette. "It is so
+very long since I saw my dear Goualeuse!"
+
+"I should be glad to do so," replied Madame Seraphin, 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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"I was happy and gay enough a few days ago; but now--"
+
+"You sorrowful? I can hardly believe it."
+
+"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."
+
+"Still the same kind, warm-hearted girl!"
+
+"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."
+
+At the name of Louise Morel, one of the victims of the notary's
+villainy, Madame Seraphin started, and gazed earnestly at Rigolette. The
+features of the grisette were, however, perfectly unknown to her;
+nevertheless, from that instant, the _femme de charge_ listened with an
+attentive ear to the conversation of the two girls.
+
+"Poor thing," continued the Goualeuse; "how happy it must make her to
+find that you have not forgotten her in her misfortunes!"
+
+"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."
+
+"You, Rigolette,--in a prison for men?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But what is it that distresses you so much?"
+
+"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 days. I
+told him I had prepared it entirely myself, hoping to make him relish
+it. But alas, no! What do you think?"
+
+"Oh, what?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Still, the tears he shed were, no doubt, sweet and consoling tears!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, then, of course, his troubles became yours also."
+
+"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 Germain read it twice over to me. Poor
+Germain! How very, very kind and attentive he was!"
+
+"I suppose he wished to keep it as a reminiscence of bygone days?"
+
+"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."
+
+"He must have a noble and excellent heart to have thought of it," said
+the Goualeuse, deeply touched.
+
+"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."
+
+At the name of Germain, another victim of the notary's unprincipled
+persecution, Madame Seraphin redoubled her before close attention.
+
+"And what has this poor young man done to deserve being put in prison?"
+inquired Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"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."
+
+"Of her whom you have come to see?"
+
+"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 Seraphin. 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:
+
+"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?"
+
+Although Rigolette entertained not the slightest suspicion of the
+sincerity of Madame Seraphin's affected sympathy, yet, recollecting how
+strictly Rodolph had 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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Dear me,--poor things!" observed Madame Seraphin. "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."
+
+"Alas, no, madame!" answered Rigolette, hoping to destroy any suspicion
+Madame Seraphin 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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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 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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Madame Seraphin 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."
+
+"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 protegees 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."
+
+"Make yourself perfectly easy," returned Fleur-de-Marie; "I promise to
+try to interest M. Rodolph in favour of your poor friends."
+
+"Who did you say?" exclaimed Rigolette, "M. Rodolph?"
+
+"Yes," replied La Goualeuse; "do you know him?"
+
+"M. Rodolph?" again repeated Rigolette, perfectly bewildered; "is he a
+travelling clerk?"
+
+"I really don't know what he is. But why are you so much astonished?"
+
+"Because I know a M. Rodolph!"
+
+"Perhaps it is not the same."
+
+"Well, describe yours. What is he like?"
+
+"In the first place, he is young."
+
+"So is mine."
+
+"With a countenance full of nobleness and goodness."
+
+"Precisely," exclaimed Rigolette, whose amazement increased. "Oh, it
+must be the very man! Is your M. Rodolph rather dark-complexioned, with
+a small moustache?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, but I know he is. He told me so himself."
+
+"And you know him intimately?"
+
+"Why, he is my next-door neighbour."
+
+"M. Rodolph is?"
+
+"I mean next-room neighbour; because he occupies an apartment on the
+fourth floor, next to mine."
+
+"He--M. Rodolph--lodges in the next room to you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"No, no, it cannot be the same M. Rodolph I am acquainted with," said
+Fleur-de-Marie, reflecting seriously; "oh, no, quite impossible!"
+
+"I suppose yours is a pattern of order and exactness?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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 _tapis-franc_. 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:
+
+"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, 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."
+
+"Where do you live, Rigolette?"
+
+"No. 17 Rue du Temple."
+
+"Come!" said Madame Seraphin (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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"You love Germain, then?"
+
+"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.
+
+"You are good and generous-hearted, as you ever were!" said
+Fleur-de-Marie, tenderly pressing her friend's hands within her own.
+
+Madame Seraphin 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:
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Indeed I will! Adieu, dear Rigolette!"
+
+"Farewell, my very dear Goualeuse!"
+
+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 Seraphin, 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 Seraphin to
+alight, that she said:
+
+"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?"
+
+"All that I can tell you, my dear child," answered the _femme de
+charge_, 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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, in most excellent health and spirits!"
+
+"And M. Rodolph?"
+
+"Perfectly well, also."
+
+"Then you know him? But, madame, when I was speaking to Rigolette
+concerning him just now, you did not seem to be acquainted with him; at
+least, you did not say so."
+
+"Because, in pursuance with the directions given me, I affected to be
+ignorant of the person you alluded to."
+
+"And did M. Rodolph, himself, give you those orders?"
+
+"Why, what a dear, curious little thing this is!" said the _femme de
+charge_, smilingly; "I must mind what I am about, or, with her innocent
+ways of putting questions, she will find out all my secrets!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+The _femme de charge_, 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 _colombes_, 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 Seraphin could not avoid noticing it.
+
+"You seem full of joy, my dear child; I declare it is quite a pleasure
+to see you."
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"Well, really, now, my dear," said Madame Seraphin, with a grim smile,
+"it is singular enough your being so much struck with that little isle!"
+
+"Why, madame?"
+
+"Because it is there we are actually going to."
+
+"Going to that island?"
+
+"Yes; does that astonish you?"
+
+"Rather so, madame."
+
+"But suppose you found your friends there?"
+
+"Oh, what do you mean?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, if it were but possible! My dear Madame Georges?--M. Rodolph?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"I beg your pardon, madame; but I cannot help being quite impatient to
+arrive where we are going."
+
+"To be sure you cannot; don't fancy I mean to blame you for it; quite
+the contrary."
+
+"The road slopes a little now, madame, and it is rather rough, too; will
+you accept of my arm to assist you down?"
+
+"I never refuse a good offer, my dear; for I am somewhat infirm, as well
+as old, while you are young and active."
+
+"Then pray lean all your weight on me, madame; don't be afraid of tiring
+me."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"A little patience,--another quarter of an hour, and then you will see
+whether it is true or false."
+
+"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."
+
+"Still curious, my dear child, still wanting to know everybody's
+reasons."
+
+"How very foolish and unreasonable I am, am I not, madame?" said
+Fleur-de-Marie, smiling.
+
+"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."
+
+"For me, madame, a surprise?"
+
+"Be quiet, you little chatterbox! You will make me reveal the secret, in
+spite of myself."
+
+We shall now leave Madame Seraphin 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE BOATS.
+
+
+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 Francois 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.
+
+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.
+
+Three boats were undulating in the water, fastened to 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 Seraphin and Fleur-de-Marie were to come to
+reach the isle.
+
+"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 Elysees at five o'clock. We ought to be there before
+her; the Chouette said so this morning."
+
+"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."
+
+"Besides, Bras-Rouge and Barbillon will want us; they can do nothing by
+their two selves."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Didn't the Chouette say that, for a joke, she had got the Schoolmaster
+at 'school' in the cellar?"
+
+"Not in this one; in another much deeper, and which is filled with water
+at spring-tides."
+
+"How the Schoolmaster must rage and foam there in the cellar! There all
+alone, and blind, too!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Still, when he has done singing all the songs he knows, to pass away
+the time, his days must hang precious heavy on his hands."
+
+"The Chouette says that he amuses himself with rat-hunting, and that the
+cellar is full of game."
+
+"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."
+
+"Bah! He's asleep. Since the morning he hasn't stirred, and his dog is
+silent."
+
+"Perhaps he has strangled him for food. For two days, they must both be
+desperate hungry and thirsty up there together."
+
+"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."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"Of course I do. As mother went to Asnieres this morning, she met Pere
+Ferot, 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 Ferot 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."
+
+"Yes, but he won't die directly; this way is a tedious one."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"What a pleasant watch!" said the ruffian, with a chuckle; "it must have
+been vastly amusing!"
+
+"Why, it was to give you time to come with the iron plates you went to
+get from Pere Micou."
+
+"What a rage the dear brother must have been in!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I say, though, when La Louve comes out of prison, and makes her way
+here, to see her man, as she calls him?"
+
+"Well, we shall say, 'Look for him.'"
+
+"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 Francois is quite
+furious since he suspects we have packed away his tall brother."
+
+"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."
+
+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 Mere
+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.
+
+"There's a row, I know; I'll bet that it is Francois, 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."
+
+Whilst Calabash again mounted the bench, and looked out for the arrival
+of Seraphin 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 Francois. 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 Francois
+up there.
+
+"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."
+
+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 Francois. Seeing his brother advance towards
+him, the young boy brandished the axe with a desperate air and cried:
+
+"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."
+
+Nicholas felt as the widow did the pressing necessity 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 Francois; but Nicholas, again retreating, exclaimed:
+
+"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."
+
+The widow shrugged her shoulders, and advanced towards Francois.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Let 'em shut us up; don't strike mother!" cried Amandine, in fear.
+
+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 Francois'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.
+
+"It will still be that infernal Martial's fault, if these children
+behave in this outrageous manner to us," said Nicholas.
+
+"Nothing has been heard in his room since this morning," said the
+widow, with a pensive air, and she shuddered, "nothing!"
+
+"That's a sign, mother, that you were right to say to Pere Ferot, the
+fisherman at Asnieres, 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."
+
+After a moment's silence, as and if she wished to escape a painful
+thought, the widow replied, suddenly:
+
+"Didn't the Chouette come here whilst I was at Asnieres?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+"Why didn't she stay and accompany us to Bras-Rouge's? I mistrust her."
+
+"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."
+
+"Bras-Rouge is at liberty,--my son is at Toulon, yet they committed the
+same robbery."
+
+"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 cellar!
+Thirty thousand francs' worth of diamonds, mother! Think of that!"
+
+"And, whilst we lay hands on this woman, Bras-Rouge is to remain outside
+the cabaret?" inquired the widow, with an air of suspicion.
+
+"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?'"
+
+"Nicholas! Nicholas!" cried Calabash, at this moment from outside, "here
+come the two women!"
+
+"Quick, quick, mother! Your shawl! I will land you on the other side,
+and that will be so much done," said Nicholas.
+
+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:
+
+"It is his own fault--it is his own fault!"
+
+"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 Seraphin 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.
+
+"Let us wait for the signal; don't let us spoil the job by too much
+haste," said Nicholas.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Don't be afraid about me, it is not the first time I've pulled a boat,
+is it?"
+
+"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."
+
+"The old woman waves her handkerchief," said Calabash; "there they are
+on the bank."
+
+"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.
+
+A few moments, and the two boats, one rowed by Nicholas and the other
+by Calabash, reached the shore where, for some moments, Madame Seraphin
+and Fleur-de-Marie had been waiting. Whilst Nicholas was fastening his
+boat to a post on the bank, Madame Seraphin approached him, and said, in
+a low and rapid tone:
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, my good lady, Madame Georges has been asking for you several
+times."
+
+"You see, my dear young lady, Madame Georges is waiting for us," said
+Madame Seraphin, 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:
+
+"I am just as impatient to see Madame Georges; fortunately, it is not a
+long way across."
+
+"How delighted the dear lady will be!" said Madame Seraphin. 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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Now you, my good lady," said Nicholas to Madame Seraphin, offering her
+his hand in turn.
+
+Was it presentiment, or mistrust, or only fear that she could not spring
+quickly enough out of the little bark 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.
+
+"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.
+
+His sister did the same directly Madame Seraphin 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
+Seraphin, left the bank slowly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE HAPPINESS OF MEETING.
+
+
+Before the reader is made acquainted with the _denouement_ of the drama
+then passing in Nicholas's boat, we shall beg leave to retrace our
+steps.
+
+Shortly after Fleur-de-Marie had quitted St. Lazare in company of Madame
+Seraphin, 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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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 at first, she paid the driver of a
+cabriolet liberally to conduct her with all speed to the bridge of
+Asnieres, which she crossed about a quarter of an hour before Madame
+Seraphin 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 Ferot, who lived close by the
+bridge.
+
+It was about four o'clock in the day when a cabriolet stopped at the
+entrance of a small street in the village of Asnieres. 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 Ferot, 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.
+
+The flying steps of La Louve soon conducted her to the fisherman's
+cottage, and there, seated tranquilly before the door, she found Father
+Ferot, an old, white-headed man, busily employed mending his nets. Even
+before she came close up to him, La Louve cried out:
+
+"Quick, quick, Father Ferot! Your boat! Your boat!"
+
+"What! Is it you, my girl? Well, how are you? I have not seen you this
+long while."
+
+"I know, I know; but where is your boat? and take me across to the isle
+as fast as you can row."
+
+"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."
+
+"But why? Why is it?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Distraction!" exclaimed La Louve, stamping her foot and clenching her
+hand. "Then all is lost; I shall not be able to see him!"
+
+"'Pon my honour and word, it's true, though," said old Ferot. "I am
+extremely sorry I am unable to ferry you over, because, no doubt, by
+your going on so, he is very much worse."
+
+"Who is much worse? Who?"
+
+"Why, Martial!"
+
+"Martial!" exclaimed La Louve, snatching the sleeve of old Ferot's
+jacket, "My man ill?"
+
+"Bless me! Did you not know it?"
+
+"Martial? Do you mean Martial?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ill! Martial ill? And how long has he been so?"
+
+"Oh, two or three days."
+
+"'Tis false! He would have written and told me of it, had it been so."
+
+"Ah, but then, don't you see? He's been too bad to handle a pen."
+
+"Too ill to write! And he is on the isle! Are you sure--quite sure he is
+there?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"But my man--my man! Tell me of him!"
+
+"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."
+
+"You drive me wild! And then--and what said she?"
+
+Father Ferot was silent for a minute or two, and then added:
+
+"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."
+
+"Concerning my man?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"But what is going on? What have his mother or brother done? And where
+is he, eh? Speak, I tell you! Speak!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, how you try my patience!" exclaimed La Louve, stamping her foot
+with intense passion.
+
+"And you promise never to repeat a word of what I am about to tell you?"
+
+"No, no, I never will!"
+
+"Upon your word of honour?"
+
+"Father Ferot, you will drive me mad!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 Ferot, interrupting himself; "where the deuce are you going?
+What is the girl after now?"
+
+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.
+
+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 Seraphin 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 was repeated, but
+more feebly, supplicatory, convulsive, and expiring; and then the most
+profound silence reigned around.
+
+"'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.
+
+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:
+
+"The unfortunate creature means to drown herself!"
+
+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 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.
+
+"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 Asnieres, and bring a boat to
+your assistance."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 Seraphin, the notary's
+_femme de charge_. She, however, was perfectly dead.
+
+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 Seraphin, he contrived to give the small vessel so great a
+shock as almost threw the _femme de charge_ into the water, and, while
+struggling to recover herself, he managed to thrust her overboard, and
+then to finish her with his boat-hook.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+One of Nicholas's boats was rocking to and fro, moored to a stake on the
+river's bank, just by where Madame Seraphin and La Goualeuse had
+embarked.
+
+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
+Asnieres, for the purpose of reaching the isle; which they contemplated
+doing by means of Nicholas's boat, which they had discerned from afar.
+
+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
+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!
+
+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:
+
+"Martial! My man!"
+
+No answer was returned.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"My man heard me! I must and will get in somehow, if I gnaw the door
+away with my teeth."
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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,
+the key of the outer door, left by the widow on the sill of the window,
+fell to the ground.
+
+"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!"
+
+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
+Francois and Amandine, leaving the key in the lock.
+
+Released by La Louve, the two children hurried from the cellar to the
+kitchen.
+
+"Oh, La Louve!" exclaimed Francois, "save our dear Brother Martial; they
+want him to die! For two days he has been shut up in his room!"
+
+"They have not wounded him, have they?"
+
+"No, no, I think not!"
+
+"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. Francois, quick! Bring me a crowbar, a hatchet, an
+axe, anything, that I may break in the door that confines my man!"
+
+"There is the cleaver we split wood with, but it is too heavy for you,"
+said the lad, dragging forward an enormous chopper.
+
+"Too heavy! I don't even feel it!" cried La Louve, swinging the
+ponderous weapon, which, at another time, she would have had much
+difficulty in lifting, as though it had been a feather.
+
+Then, proceeding with hurried steps up-stairs, she called out to the
+children:
+
+"Go and fetch the young girl I told you of, and place her by the fire."
+
+And, with two bounds, La Louve reached the corridor, at the end of which
+was situated the apartment of Martial.
+
+"Courage! Courage, my man! Your Louve is here!" cried she, and, lifting
+the cleaver with both hands, she dashed it furiously against the door.
+
+"It is fastened on the outside," moaned Martial, in a feeble voice;
+"draw out the nails,--you cannot open it otherwise."
+
+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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Martial! 'Tis I!--your Louve! How are you now?"
+
+"Better!" replied he, in a feeble voice.
+
+"Thank God! Will you have a little water or some vinegar?"
+
+"No, no," replied Martial, speaking more naturally; "air, air! Oh, I
+want only air!"
+
+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.
+
+"Now I breathe! I breathe freely! And my head seems quite relieved!"
+said Martial, entirely recovering his senses and voice.
+
+Then, as if recalling for the first time the service his mistress had
+rendered him, he exclaimed, with a burst of ineffable gratitude:
+
+"But for you, my brave Louve, I should soon have been dead!"
+
+"Oh, never mind thinking of that! But tell me, how do you find yourself
+now?"
+
+"Better--much better!"
+
+"You are hungry, I doubt not?"
+
+"No; I feel myself too weak for that. What I have suffered most cruelly
+from has been want of air. At last I felt suffocating, strangling,
+choking. Oh, it was dreadful!"
+
+"But now?"
+
+"I live again. I come forth from the very tomb itself; and that, too,
+thanks to you!"
+
+"And these cuts upon your poor bleeding hands! For God's sake, what have
+they done to you?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"No matter, no matter what has happened to me, since you are saved. Oh,
+yes,--saved!"
+
+"But explain to me how you became thus wet through."
+
+"I knew you were in danger, and finding no boat--"
+
+"You swam to my rescue?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Oh, my brave Louve!" exclaimed Martial, enthusiastically; "bravest and
+best of all brave creatures!"
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes, you are bold and intrepid; but the cold has seized you,--you
+tremble!"
+
+"Indeed, it is not with cold."
+
+"Never mind,--go in there. You will find Calabash's cloak; wrap yourself
+well in it."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I insist!"
+
+In an instant La Louve, who had quickly flown at her lover's second
+command, returned wrapped in a plaid mantle.
+
+"To think you ran the risk of drowning yourself,--and all for me!"
+resumed Martial, gazing on her with enthusiastic delight.
+
+"Oh, no, not altogether for you. A poor girl was nearly perishing in the
+river, and I saved her as I landed."
+
+"Saved her also. And where is she?"
+
+"Below with the children, who are taking care of her."
+
+"And who is she?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Only conceive my both hating and loving her; for she had introduced
+happiness and death into my heart and thoughts."
+
+"Who? This girl?"
+
+"Yes; and all on your account."
+
+"On mine?"
+
+"Hark ye, Martial!" Then interrupting her proposed speech, La Louve
+continued, "No, no; I never, never can--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Then speak,--pray do!"
+
+"I dare not."
+
+"Dare not,--after all you have done for me?"
+
+"No; for then it would appear as though I claimed a right to be
+rewarded."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Are you not 'my man,--my own dear man?'"
+
+"And for the reason that I am and ever shall be 'your man,' are you not
+bound to speak openly and candidly to me?"
+
+"For ever, Martial?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What can you mean?"
+
+"That I will never more quit you; neither will I part from Francois and
+Amandine."
+
+"Your young sister and brother?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"That I know not; but certainly far from Paris."
+
+"And me?"
+
+"You? Why, of course, you go with me!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, thanks, Martial,--thanks, thanks!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Oh, Martial, I feel as though I should go mad."
+
+"Mad!--for what?"
+
+"For joy."
+
+"And why should you go mad with joy?"
+
+"Because--because,--it is too much--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Still, I ask you, what is the matter, and why are you thus agitated?"
+exclaimed Martial.
+
+"Oh, Martial, Martial, the very thing you have been proposing--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I was going to ask you."
+
+"To quit Paris?"
+
+"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."
+
+Martial, in his turn, regarded La Louve with deep astonishment, unable
+to comprehend her meaning.
+
+"What place are you speaking of?" said he, at length.
+
+"Of that of gamekeeper."
+
+"That I should have?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And who would give it to me?"
+
+"The protector of the young girl I saved."
+
+"They do not know me."
+
+"But I have told her all about you, and she will recommend us to her
+protector."
+
+"And what have you told her about me?"
+
+"Oh, Martial, can you not guess? Of what could I speak but of your
+goodness--and my love for you?"
+
+"My excellent Louve!"
+
+"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."
+
+"And who is she?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, yes!" said Martial, sighing; "that would, indeed, be a sweet and
+pleasant life! Without being bad at heart, poor Francois 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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Did you, really?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"'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.'"
+
+"Get me a gamekeeper's place?"
+
+"Yes; I declare to you, Martial, she said so."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, Martial! I your lawful wife?"
+
+"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 _maire_."
+
+"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!"
+
+"And do you really think there is any chance of our getting this place?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But," cried Martial, suddenly rising, "I don't know what we have been
+thinking of all this time!"
+
+"Thinking about--what do you mean, Martial?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Make yourself perfectly easy; Francois and Amandine 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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+DOCTOR GRIFFON.
+
+
+Francois 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.
+
+"The poor girl cannot be more than seventeen at most!" exclaimed the
+count, who was looking on. "What do you think of her, doctor?"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"But doctor--"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Have you any hope?" inquired M. de Saint-Remy, impatiently.
+
+"The extremities of the subject are very cold," said the doctor; "there
+is but very slight hope."
+
+"Ah, poor child! To die at that age is indeed terrible!"
+
+"Pupil fixed--dilated!" observed the doctor, impassive, and pushing up
+the frigid eyelid of Fleur-de-Marie with his forefinger.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"_Parbleu!_ 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!"
+
+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?"
+
+"My husband!" replied La Louve, looking at Martial with an expression of
+happiness and noble pride impossible to describe.
+
+"You have a good and intrepid wife, sir," said the comte to him. "I saw
+her save this unfortunate young girl with singular courage."
+
+"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."
+
+"Your life?" exclaimed the comte.
+
+"Look at his hands--his poor hands!" said La Louve, wiping away the
+tears which softened the wild brightness of her eyes.
+
+"Horrible!" cried the comte. "See, doctor, how his hands are hacked!"
+
+Doctor Griffon, turning his head slightly, and looking over his shoulder
+at Martial's hands, said to him, "Open and shut your hand."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Then, sir, my husband will not be crippled?" said La Louve, with
+gratitude.
+
+The doctor shook his head affirmatively.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"I cannot say," replied the doctor. "But, in the first place, can she
+remain here? Will she have all necessary attention?"
+
+"Here?" cried La Louve; "why, they commit murder here!"
+
+"Silence--silence!" said Martial.
+
+The comte and the doctor looked at La Louve with surprise.
+
+"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.
+
+"You have, then, been the victim of some violence?" observed the comte
+to Martial. "How did you come by those wounds?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, how nice!" exclaimed the two children.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"How horridly you talk!" cried the comte.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"And well does she deserve it, I can tell you, sir," observed La Louve,
+with excitement, and approaching him.
+
+"Do you know her?" inquired the comte.
+
+"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!
+
+"And who is she?" asked M. de Saint-Remy.
+
+"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."
+
+"By what accident did she fall into the water?"
+
+"I do not know, sir."
+
+"Then she is not a peasant girl?" asked the comte.
+
+"A peasant girl,--look at her small white hands, sir!"
+
+"True," observed M. de Saint-Remy; "what a strange mystery! But her
+name--her family?"
+
+"Come along," said the doctor, breaking into the conversation; "we must
+convey the subject into the boat."
+
+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 Francois and Amandine, La Louve being unwilling to quit
+Fleur-de-Marie before she had been pronounced out of danger.
+
+The Isle du Ravageur remained deserted. We shall presently find its
+sinister inhabitants at Bras-Rouge's, 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE PORTRAIT.
+
+
+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.
+
+"It has just struck three by the Luxembourg," said the old woman. "Here
+I am, like the hand of the clock."
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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 _fourline's_ 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 _tapis-franc_ of the ogress, and with
+the tall fellow who just left me, the same that the _fourline_ 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.'"
+
+As Sarah approached the Chouette, whom she saw again for the first time
+since their rencontre at the _tapis-franc_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+After a moment's silence Sarah said to the Chouette, "You are adroit,
+discreet, and resolute?"
+
+"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."
+
+"We are not talking of her, but of something else."
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"There are more of them than there are of millionaires; you may pick and
+choose. We have plentiful wretchedness in Paris."
+
+"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."
+
+The Chouette gazed at Sarah with amazement.
+
+"Such an orphan girl must be by no means difficult to meet with,"
+continued the countess; "there are so many foundling children!"
+
+"Why, my good lady, you forget La Goualeuse. She is the very thing."
+
+"Who is La Goualeuse?"
+
+"The young thing we carried off from Bouqueval."
+
+"We are not talking of her now, I tell you."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"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
+some child they wanted to get rid of or pass off for dead."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Ten years ago?" cried Sarah.
+
+"Ten years."
+
+"A little fair girl?"
+
+"A little fair girl."
+
+"With blue eyes?"
+
+"Blue eyes--as blue as blue bells."
+
+"And it was she who was at the farm?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, _mon Dieu!_ _mon Dieu!_" 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.
+
+At the end of the alley she ascended several steps 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.
+
+"I am not at home to anybody, and let no one enter here,--no one, do you
+hear?"
+
+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."
+
+The Chouette did as she was bidden.
+
+Hastily opening a _secretaire_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 the table, and, handing it to the Chouette with a
+trembling hand, said:
+
+"Look at this portrait."
+
+"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, _ma foi!_"
+
+"You recognise her; it is really she? Oh, I conjure you, do not deceive
+me--do not deceive me!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+The Chouette, still stealing on with slow steps, had at length reached
+one end of the table, and had her stiletto 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.
+
+"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.
+
+"No, madame; I do not!" replied the Chouette, at all risks.
+
+"I will write, then, at your dictation. Tell me all the circumstances of
+the abandonment of this little girl."
+
+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.
+
+"I will read aloud, and then," said the countess, "you can correct any
+mistakes."
+
+"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.
+
+The countess commenced writing.
+
+"I declare that--"
+
+Then interrupting herself, and turning towards the Chouette, who was at
+the moment touching the handle of her poniard, Sarah added:
+
+"At what period was the child brought to you?"
+
+"In the month of February, 1827."
+
+"And by whom?" continued Sarah, turning towards the Chouette.
+
+"By Pierre Tournemine, now at the galleys at Rochefort. It was Madame
+Seraphin, the notary's housekeeper, who brought the young girl to him."
+
+The countess continued writing, and then read aloud:
+
+"I declare that, in the month of February, 1827, a person named--"
+
+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.
+
+"Tell me again the name of the man who handed the child to you?" said
+the countess.
+
+"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--"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Just the very blow which _fourline_ 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.
+
+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
+she took a hackney-coach, which drove her to Bras-Rouge's in the Champs
+Elysees.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE AGENT OF SAFETY.
+
+
+The reader already knows the Bleeding Heart in the Champs Elysees, 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.
+
+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
+_agent-de-surete_ named Narcisse Borel, whom the reader may perchance
+remember to have seen at the _tapis-franc_ of the ogress, when he came
+there to arrest two miscreants accused of murder.
+
+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 on a
+small scale which is modestly and commonly termed the police.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We will return to the conversation between Narcisse Borel and
+Bras-Rouge, which appeared to be very animated.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"That remains to be proved."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Do you think me capable, M. Narcisse, of having secretly told him of
+your coming?"
+
+"I only know that I received from the scoundrel a pistol-shot aimed full
+at me, but which, fortunately, only grazed my arm."
+
+"Why, to be sure, M. Narcisse, in your profession you must be
+occasionally exposed to such mistakes!"
+
+"Ah, you call these mistakes, eh?"
+
+"Certainly; for, no doubt, the wicked fellow intended to lodge the ball
+in your body."
+
+"In the arm, body, or head, no matter, I don't complain of that; every
+profession has its disagreeables."
+
+"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.
+
+"I should fully agree with you if the bloodhound were faithful, but I
+fear it is not."
+
+"Ah, M. Narcisse, you think--"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Most decidedly. And you assure me that there has not been the
+slightest incitement on your part towards the _coup_ which they are now
+going to attempt?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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 _tapis-franc_?"
+
+"The Schoolmaster?" said Bras-Rouge, feigning astonishment.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"There is every reason to believe that the Schoolmaster is the author of
+fresh murders. He would be an important capture."
+
+"No one knows what has become of him for the last six weeks."
+
+"And that's the reason you are reproached with having lost all trace of
+him."
+
+"Always reproaches, M. Narcisse, always!"
+
+"Not for want of ample cause! And how goes on the smuggling?"
+
+"Is it not necessary that I should know something of 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 Barriere du Trone, and coming into a house in the street."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, M. Narcisse, I am incapable of an appetite so dishonest!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Poor, dear man! I pity you with all my soul!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Tigers or pullets," said Narcisse, half opening his long frock coat,
+and showing the butts of two pistols in the pockets of his trousers, "I
+have wherewithal here for them."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"You must be speedy, then, for I expect the gang here every moment, M.
+Narcisse."
+
+"Very well, I will go at once and place my men, provided that all this
+is not another humbug."
+
+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.
+
+"Ah, ha! It is the Chouette already. Well, do you believe me now, M.
+Narcisse?"
+
+"Why, this looks something like; but it is not all. But we shall see.
+And now to station my men."
+
+And the agent of safety disappeared at a side door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE CHOUETTE.
+
+
+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:
+
+"Oh, dear me! Did your foot slip?"
+
+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:
+
+"I hope next time you will not kiss me so hard,--eh, La Chouette?"
+
+"Wicked little brat! Why did you tread on my gown on purpose to make me
+fall?"
+
+"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.
+
+Deceived by Tortillard's hypocrisy, the Chouette believed him, and
+replied:
+
+"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, _vive la
+joie_! To-day I bear no malice. Where is your old rogue of a father?"
+
+"In the house. Shall I go and find him for you?"
+
+"No; are the Martials here?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Then I have time to go down and visit _fourline_. I want to speak to
+old No-Eyes."
+
+"Will you go into the Schoolmaster's cellar?" inquired Tortillard,
+scarcely concealing his diabolical delight.
+
+"What's that to you?"
+
+"To me?"
+
+"Yes, you ask me the question with such an odd air."
+
+"Because I was thinking of something odd."
+
+"What?"
+
+"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."
+
+The Chouette laughed heartily at Tortillard's wit, and said to the
+cripple:
+
+"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 _fourline_, and you can help me to open his door. You know that I
+can hardly push it by myself."
+
+"Well, no, it is so very dark in the cellar," said Tortillard, shaking
+his head.
+
+"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 _fourline_; 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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 proved Rodolph's grave. When he reached the
+bottom of the staircase, Tortillard pretended to hesitate in following
+the Chouette.
+
+"Well, now, you little vagabond, go on!" she said.
+
+"Why, it is so dark; and you go so fast, Chouette! And, indeed, I'd
+rather go back again, and leave you the light."
+
+"And then, foolish imp, how am I to open the cellar door by myself? Will
+you come on?"
+
+"No, I am so frightened!"
+
+"If I begin with you! Mind--"
+
+"If you threaten me, I'll go back again!" and Tortillard retreated
+several paces.
+
+"Well, listen to me, now,--be a good boy," said the Chouette, repressing
+her anger, "and I'll give you something."
+
+"Well, what?" said Tortillard, coming up to her. "Speak to me so always,
+and I'll do anything you wish me, Mother Chouette."
+
+"Come, come, I'm in a hurry!"
+
+"Yes; but promise me that I may have some fun with the Schoolmaster."
+
+"Another time; I haven't time to-day."
+
+"Only a little bit,--just let me tease him for five minutes?"
+
+"Another time; I tell you that I want to return up-stairs as quickly as
+possible."
+
+"Why, then, do you want to open the door of his apartment?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I must love you very much, Chouette, for you make me do just what you
+like," said Tortillard, slowly advancing.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Ah, there's _fourline_ wishing his mamma good-morning!" said the
+Chouette, with a sneer.
+
+And she descended several steps, in order to conceal her basket in some
+hole.
+
+"I'm hungry!" exclaimed the Schoolmaster, in a voice that shook with
+rage; "do you wish to kill me like a mad dog?"
+
+"What's the deary lovey hungry?" said the Chouette, with a laugh of
+mockery; "then smell its thumb."
+
+There was a sound like that of a chain twisted violently; then a groan
+of mute, repressed passion.
+
+"Take care! Take care, or you'll have a bump in your leg, as you had at
+Bouqueval farm, poor dear pa!" said Tortillard.
+
+"He's right, the boy is,--keep yourself quiet, _fourline_," 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 this place, and
+bring you down here in the cool to preserve you, old darling."
+
+"That's a pity! He'll grow mouldy," said Tortillard.
+
+Again the clank of the chain was heard.
+
+"He, he, _fourline_! Why, he's dancing like a cockchafer tied by the
+claw," said the beldame, "I think I see him!"
+
+"Cockchafer, cockchafer, fly away home! Fly, fly, fly! Your husband is
+the Schoolmaster!" sung Tortillard.
+
+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:
+
+"You see, _fourline_--"
+
+"He don't see," said Tortillard.
+
+"The brat's right. Will you hear, _fourline_? 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--"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Bump, bump, bump, bump! There's the Chouette for you--there she is! Why
+don't you jump upon her, old buffer?" added Tortillard.
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+"Oh, I have her! I have her!" cried the Schoolmaster, from the depth of
+the cave.
+
+"If you have her, old lad, I cry snacks," said Tortillard, with a laugh.
+
+And he stopped on the top step of the stairs.
+
+"Help!" shrieked the Chouette, in a strangling voice.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Bravo! Here I am in the dress-boxes!" said Tortillard, seating himself
+on the top of the stairs.
+
+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:
+
+"Music! Music! Play up! Up with the curtain!"
+
+"Oh, now I have hold of you, as I desired," murmured the Schoolmaster,
+from the recess of the cellar; "and you were going--"
+
+A desperate movement of the Chouette interrupted him; she struggled with
+all the energy which the fear of death inspires.
+
+"Louder! Can't hear!" bawled Tortillard.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Tortillard, call your father!" shrieked the Chouette, with a faltering,
+exhausted voice. "Help! Help!"
+
+"Turn her out, the old thing! She won't let us hear," said the little
+cripple, with a shout of laughter; "put her out!"
+
+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.
+
+"Tortillard, go and fetch help, and I will give you my basket; it is
+full of jewels. There it is, under a stone."
+
+"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."
+
+"Have pity on me, and I will--"
+
+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:
+
+"Why don't you begin? Up with the curtain! Music! Music!"
+
+"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 you,--yes, at length. It will be very terrible for
+you, agonising!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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
+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?"
+
+"Bravo! Well played, old No-Eyes! He gets on," exclaimed Tortillard,
+applauding. "It is really something to laugh at."
+
+"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."
+
+"At him, Chouette!" cried Tortillard. "At him! And reply boldly! Why,
+you don't know your part. Tell the 'old one' to prompt you, my worthy
+elderly damsel."
+
+"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!"
+
+The Chouette gave a dull and stifled groan.
+
+"Louder," said Tortillard; "can't hear."
+
+"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 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."
+
+"I say, old chap," exclaimed Tortillard, "you are borrowing a bit from
+M. Moissard's part! Come, no cribbing--gammon!"
+
+The Schoolmaster did not hear Bras-Rouge's son.
+
+"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 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.'"
+
+As he uttered these last words, the tones of the Schoolmaster lost their
+harshness; this man of iron appeared deeply moved, and he added:
+
+"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."
+
+"Well said, old buck! So, you see, Chouette, it was only a lark," cried
+Tortillard, applauding.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+The ferocity of his hatred, his vengeance, his rage, his bloody
+instincts, suddenly aroused and exasperated by this attack, now all
+burst forth suddenly, terribly, and carried with it his reason, already
+so strongly shaken by so many shocks.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Whilst the commissary and his clerk were writing 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+The widow could no longer preserve her calmness; and having no doubt of
+Bras-Rouge's treachery, which she had foretold, she exclaimed:
+
+"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!"
+
+"Yes; we shan't shrink before the carline (guillotine)," added Calabash,
+with savage excitement.
+
+The widow, glancing towards Nicholas, said to her daughter, with an air
+of unutterable contempt:
+
+"That coward there will dishonour us on the scaffold!"
+
+Some minutes afterwards the widow and Calabash, 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.
+
+
+END OF VOLUME IV.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+
+This e-text was prepared from numbered edition 505 of the 1000 printed.
+
+Minor punctuation and capitalization corrections have been made without
+comment.
+
+Minor typographical errors of single words, otherwise spelled correctly
+throughout the text have been made without comment.
+
+p. 87, "that'll" to "that" (that I'll slash your eyes out;)
+
+p. 188, "caligraphy" to "calligraphy" (expert in calligraphy)
+
+Word Variations appearing in the original text which have been retained:
+
+"Bras Rouge" (10) and "Bras-Rouge" (49)
+"Halloa" (3) and "Holloa" (3) and "Holla" (1)
+"Ile du Ravageur" (2) and "Isle du Ravageur" (13)
+"rencontre" (1) and "rencounter" (1)
+"work-people" (1) and "workpeople" (1)
+
+Words using the [oe] ligature, which have been here represented as "oe":
+"manoeuvre".
+
+Throughout the text, illustrations and their captions were placed on
+facing pages. For the purpose of this e-text these pages have been
+combined into one entry.
+
+Footnotes, originally at the bottom of a printed page, have been placed
+directly below the paragraph in which their anchor symbol appears.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 4 of 6, by
+Eugene Sue
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