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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysteries of Paris V2, by Eugene Sue
+#14 in our series by Eugene Sue
+
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+
+Title: The Mysteries of Paris V2
+
+Author: Eugene Sue
+
+Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6602]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on December 30, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS V2 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Beth L. Constantine, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SAUCEPAN THROWN IN DEFIANCE]
+
+
+
+
+THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS
+
+
+
+_IN THREE VOLUMES_
+
+
+VOLUME TWO
+
+
+
+By EUGENE SUE
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE EXECUTION.
+
+
+The surprised lapidary rose and opened the door. Two men entered the
+garret. One of them was tall and thin, with a face mean and pimpled,
+surrounded by thick, grayish whiskers; he held in his hand a stout
+loaded cane, and wore a shapeless hat and a large green greatcoat,
+covered with mud, and buttoned close up to the neck; the black velvet
+collar, much worn, exposed to view his long, bare, red throat, which
+resembled a vulture's. This man was one Malicorne. The other was short
+and thick-set, his countenance equally mean, and his hair red. He was
+dressed with an attempt at finery, quite ridiculous. Bright studs
+fastened the front of his shirt, whose cleanliness was more than
+doubtful; a long gold chain, passed across his second-hand plaid stuff
+waistcoat, was left to view by a velveteen jacket, of a yellowish-gray
+color. This man's name was Bourdin.
+
+"Oh, what a stink of misery and death is here!" said Malicorne,
+stopping at the threshold.
+
+"The fact is, it does not smell of musk. What habits!" repeated
+Bourdin, turning up his nose in disgust and disdain. He then advanced
+toward the artisan, who looked at him with mingled surprise and
+indignation.
+
+Through the half-open door was seen Hoppy's evil, watchful, and
+cunning face, who, having followed the strangers, unknown to them, was
+narrowly watching and listening attentively.
+
+"What do you want?" challenged the lapidary, roughly, disgusted with
+the rudeness of the two men.
+
+"Jerome Morel," responded Bourdin.
+
+"I am he."
+
+"Working jeweler?"
+
+"The same."
+
+"Are you quite sure?"
+
+"Once more, I am that person; you annoy me--what do you want? Explain,
+or leave the room!"
+
+"Oh, you are coming the _bounce_, are you? I say, Malicorne,"
+said this man, turning toward his companion, "there is no catch here;
+it is not like the haul at Viscount de Saint-Remy's."
+
+"No, but when there is much, the door is shut against you, as we found
+in the Rue de---. The bird had watched the net, and would not be
+taken; while such vermin as these stick to their _cribs_ like a
+snail to his shell."
+
+"It is my opinion that they only require to be jugged to cram
+themselves."
+
+"Still the costs will be more than ever the creditor _wolf_ will
+get here; however, that's his look-out."
+
+"Hold!" said Morel with indignation; "if you were not drunk, as you
+surely are, I should be very angry. Instantly leave my room!"
+
+"How very sharp you are this morning, old lopsides!" cried Malicorne,
+insultingly alluding to the deformity in the lapidary's person.
+
+"Do you hear, Malicorne?--he has the impudence to call this place a
+_room_--a hole where I would not put my dog."
+
+"For heaven's sake!" cried Madeleine, so alarmed, that till then she
+had not spoken a word, "call for assistance; perhaps they are thieves.
+Take care of the diamonds!"
+
+In truth, seeing these two strangers, of doubtful appearance, approach
+nearer and nearer to the bench on which lay the jewels, Morel, fearing
+some evil intention, ran forward, and with both hands covered the
+precious stones.
+
+Hoppy, always on the watch, and listening, hearing Madeleine's words,
+and seeing the movement of the artisan, said to himself; "They say he
+is a cutter of false stones; if so, he would not fear their being
+stolen. Just as well to know that. _I take!_ Then again, Mother
+Mathieu, who comes here so often, is a dealer in _real_; and
+those she has in her casket are real diamonds. I will put the Owl up
+to this!" added Red Arm's son.
+
+"If you do not leave this room instantly, I will call the police,"
+said Morel.
+
+The children, frightened at this scene, began to cry, while the old
+idiot started upright in her bed.
+
+"If any one has a right to call the police, we're the men. Do you
+hear, Mister Sideways?" said Bourdin.
+
+"You'll see the police lend a hand to take you, if you don't go
+quietly," added Malicorne; "we have not the magistrate with us, it is
+true; but if you wish to enjoy his society, you shall have a taste of
+one, just out of his bed, quite hot and heavy. Bourdin will go and
+fetch him."
+
+"To prison! Me?" cried the astounded Morel.
+
+"Yes, to Clichy."
+
+"To Clichy!" repeated the artisan, with a wild look.
+
+"Is he hard of hearing?" asked Malicorne.
+
+"Well, then, to the debtor's prison, if you like that better,"
+explained Bourdin.
+
+"You--you--are--can it be?--the lawyer! Oh, my God!"
+
+The artisan, pale as death, fell back on his stool, unable to utter
+another word.
+
+"We are the officers who are to take you, if we can; do you understand
+now, old fellow?"
+
+"Morel, it is for the bill in the hands of Louise's master! We are all
+lost!" said Madeleine, with a sorrowful voice.
+
+"This is the warrant," said Malicorne, taking from his dirty pocket-book
+a stamped writ.
+
+After having mumbled over in the usual way a part of this document, in
+a voice hardly intelligible, he pronounced distinctly the last words,
+unfortunately too well understood by the artisan.--
+
+"As final judgment, the court condemns Jerome Morel to pay to Pierre
+Petit-Jean, merchant,[Footnote: The crafty notary incompetent to
+proceed in his own name, had got from the unfortunate Morel a blank
+acceptance, and had introduced a third party's name.] by all his
+goods, and even with his body, the sum of thirteen hundred francs,
+with lawful interest, dated from the day of the protest; and he is
+besides condemned to pay all other and extra costs. Given and judged
+at Paris, the 30th of September," etc., etc.
+
+"And Louise, then? Louise!" cried Morel, almost distracted, without
+appearing to have heard what had just been read. "Where is she? She
+must have left the lawyer, since he sends me to prison. Louise! my
+child! what has become of her?"
+
+"Who is this Louise?" said Bourdin.
+
+"Let him alone," said Malicorne. "Don't you see he's coming the
+artful?" Then, approaching Morel, he added: "Come, to the
+right-about-face, march; I want to breathe the air, I am poisoned here!"
+
+"Morel, do not go!" said Madeleine, wildly. "Kill them, the thieves!
+Oh, you are a coward! You will let them take you, and abandon us to
+our fate."
+
+"Act as though you were at home, madame," said Bourdin, sarcastically;
+"but if your husband lifts his hand against me, I will give him
+something to remember it by," continued he, twisting his loaded stick
+round and round.
+
+Occupied solely with thoughts of Louise, Morel heard nothing of what
+was said. Suddenly, an expression of bitter joy lighting up his face,
+he cried out, "Louise has quitted the lawyer's house. I shall go to
+prison with a light heart!" But then, glancing round him, he
+exclaimed, "But my wife, and her mother, and my poor children--who
+will support them? They will not trust me with stones to cut in
+prison; for it will be supposed that my own misconduct has sent me
+there. Does this lawyer desire the death of all of us?"
+
+"Once for all, let us be off!" said Bourdin; "I am sick of all this.
+Come, dress yourself and march."
+
+"My good gentleman, forgive what I have just said to you," cried
+Madeleine, still in bed; "you will not have the cruelty to take away
+Morel; what do you think will become of me, with my five children, and
+my idiot mother? There she is, huddled up on her mattress. She is
+foolish, my good gentlemen; she is quite out of her mind."
+
+"The old woman that is shorn?"
+
+"Sure enough she is shaved," said Malicorne; "I thought she had on a
+white scull-cap."
+
+"My dear children, throw yourselves at the feet of these two
+gentlemen," said Madeleine, hoping, by a last effort, to soften the
+bailiffs, "entreat them not to take away your poor father--our only
+hope." But in spite of the order of their mother, the children,
+frightened and crying, dared not leave their beds.
+
+At the unusual noise, and the sight of the two bailiffs, whom she did
+not know, the idiot began to utter deafening howls, crouching herself
+against the wall. Morel appeared careless to all that was passing
+around him; the blow was so frightful, so unexpected, the consequences
+of this arrest appeared so terrible, that he could scarcely believe in
+its reality. Already weakened by privations of every description, his
+strength failed him; he remained pale and haggard, seated on his
+stool, as though incapable of speech or motion, his head drooping on
+his breast, and his arms hanging listlessly down.
+
+"Confound it! when will all this end?" cried Malicorne; "think you
+that we come here for fun? Off with you, or I shall make you!" So
+saying, the bailiff put his hand on the artisan's shoulder, and shook
+him roughly. The threat and action alarmed the children; the three
+little boys left their mattress half naked, and came, in a flood of
+tears, to throw themselves at the feet of the bailiffs, and, with
+clasped hands, cried, in tones of touching earnestness, "Pray, pray do
+not kill father."
+
+At sight of these unhappy children, shivering with cold and fear,
+Bourdin, in spite of his natural callousness, and the constant sight
+of scenes like the present, felt something akin to compassion; his
+companion, unpitying, brutally disengaged his leg from the grasp of
+the kneeling supplicants.
+
+"Hands off, you young ragamuffins! A pretty business ours would be
+truly, if we had always to do with such beggars!"
+
+A fearful addition was made to the horrors of this scene. The elder of
+the little girls, who had remained in the straw with her sick sister,
+cried out, "Oh, mother, mother! I do not know what is the matter with
+Adele! She is quite cold, and she stares so at me and she don't
+breathe!"
+
+The poor consumptive child had just quietly expired, without a murmur,
+her looks resting on her sister, whom she tenderly loved.
+
+No language can describe the heart-rending cry of anguish uttered by
+the diamond-cutter's wife at this frightful announcement, for she
+understood it all. It was one of those stifling, convulsive screams,
+torn from the depth of a mother's heart.
+
+"My sister seems as though she were dead!" continued the child. "Oh,
+how she frightens me! She still looks at me, but how cold her face
+is!" Saying this, the poor child suddenly rose from the side of her
+dead sister, and, running terrified, threw herself into the arms of
+her mother; while the distracted parent, forgetful that her paralyzed
+limbs were incapable of sustaining her, made a violent effort to rise,
+and ran toward the corpse; but her strength failed her, and she fell
+on the floor, uttering a last cry of despair. That cry found an echo
+in Morel's heart, and roused him from his stupor; with one step he
+reached the bed's side, snatching from it his child, four years old.
+She was dead! Cold and want had hastened her end, although her
+complaint, brought on by the want of common necessaries, was beyond
+cure. Her poor little limbs were already cold and stiff. Morel, his
+gray hair almost standing on end with despair and fright, remained
+motionless, holding his dead child in his arms, whom he contemplated
+with fixed, tearless eyes, bloodshot with agony.
+
+"Morel! Morel! give my Adele to me!" shrieked the unhappy mother,
+holding out her arms toward her husband; "it is not true that she is
+dead: you shall see--I will warm her in my arms!"
+
+The idiot's curiosity was excited by the haste with which the two
+bailiffs approached the lapidary, who would not part with the body of
+his infant. The old woman ceased to howl, rose from her bed, slowly
+approached Morel, and passing her hideous and stupid face over his
+shoulder, gazed vacantly on the corpse of her grandchild. The features
+of the idiot retained their usual expression of ferocity. After a
+little time, she uttered a sort of hoarse, hollow groan, like a hungry
+beast, and returning to her bed, she threw herself upon it, crying
+out, "I am hungry! I am hungry!"
+
+"You see, gentlemen, this poor little girl, just four years old--
+Adele; yes, she was named Adele. Only last night, she fondly returned
+my caresses--and now--look at her! You will, perhaps, say that I have
+one less to feed, and that I ought not to murmur," said the artisan,
+with a haggard look.
+
+The poor man's reason began to totter under so many repeated shocks.
+
+"Morel, I want my child; I will have her!" said Madeleine.
+
+"True, true," replied the lapidary, "each in turn, that is but fair!"
+He went and laid the child in the arms of his wife. Then, hiding his
+face between his hands, he groaned bitterly. Madeleine, almost as
+frenzied as her husband, laid the child in the straw of her couch, and
+watched it with a sort of savage jealousy; while the other children
+were kneeling round in tears.
+
+The bailiffs, for a moment softened by the death of the child, soon
+returned to their accustomed brutality of conduct. "Oh, look here, my
+friend," said Malicorne to the lapidary, "your child is dead; it is
+unfortunate, but we are all mortal; we cannot help it, nor can you, so
+there's an end of it. We have an extra job to do to-day--a
+_swell_ to grab."
+
+Morel did not hear the man. Completely lost in mournful contemplation,
+the artisan said to himself, in a hollow and broken voice: "It will be
+necessary to bury my poor little girl--to watch her here till they
+come to carry her away. But how?--we have nothing! And the coffin!--
+who will give us credit? Oh, a little coffin for a child of four years
+old ought not to cost much! And then we shall want no bearers! One can
+take it under his arm. Ha! ha! ha!" added he, with a frightful burst
+of laughter, "how lucky I am! She might perhaps have lived to be
+eighteen, Louise's age, and no one would have given me credit for a
+large coffin!"
+
+"Egad! this chap seems as though he would lose his senses!" said
+Bourdin to Malicorne. "Look at him; he quite frightens me! and how the
+old idiot howls with hunger! What a queer lot!"
+
+"We must, however, make a finish; although the arrest of this beggar
+is only for seventy-six francs, seventy-five centimes, it is only
+right that we should swell the costs to two hundred and forty or fifty
+francs. It is the _wolf_ who pays."
+
+"You mean who has to _fork out_--for this poor devil here will
+have to pay the fiddler, since it is he that must dance."
+
+"By the time he has paid his creditor two thousand five hundred
+francs, for principal, interest, costs, and all, he will be warm."
+
+"It will not be then as now, for it freezes," said the bailiff,
+blowing his fingers. "Come, old fellow, pack up and let us be off; you
+can blubber as you go along. Who the devil can help the youngun's
+kicking the bucket!"
+
+"Besides, when people are so poor, they have no right to have
+children."
+
+"A good idea!" said Malicorne. Then slapping Morel on the shoulder, he
+continued: "Come, come, old boy, we can wait no longer; since you
+cannot pay, off to prison with you!"
+
+"Prison!" said a pure, youthful voice; "Morel to prison!" A young,
+bright, rosy brunette suddenly entered the garret.
+
+"Oh, Miss Dimpleton!" said one of the children, crying; "you are so
+good; save papa! they want to take him to prison, and little sister is
+dead."
+
+"Adele dead!" exclaimed the girl, whose large, brilliant black eyes
+were veiled in tears. "Your father to prison? This cannot be."
+Stupefied by surprise, she looked alternately at the lapidary, his
+wife, and the bailiffs.
+
+"My pretty girl," said Bourdin approaching Miss Dimpleton, "you're
+cool, you must try to make this poor man listen to reason; his little
+girl is dead, but nevertheless he must come with us to Clichy--to the
+debtors' prison. We are sheriffs' officers."
+
+"It is, then, all true," said the girl.
+
+"Quite true. The mother has the little one in her bed--they cannot
+take it from her; and while she is hugging it there, the father ought
+to take the opportunity of slipping out."
+
+"My God! my God! what misery," said Miss Dimpleton. "What is to be
+done?"
+
+"Pay, or go to prison! there is no other way, unless you have notes
+for two or three thousand francs to lend them," said Malicorne, in a
+careless tone; "if you have them, _shell out_, and we will
+_cut_, devilish glad to get away."
+
+"Oh, this is dreadful!" said Miss Dimpleton, with indignation; "daring
+to jest with such dreadful misfortunes."
+
+"Well then, joking aside," replied the other bailiff, "if you would do
+some good, endeavor to prevent the woman from seeing us take away her
+husband. You will thus save each of them a very disagreeable quarter
+of an hour."
+
+The advice was good, though coarsely given, and Miss Dimpleton,
+following it, approached Madeleine, who, distracted with grief, did
+not appear to notice the young girl, as she knelt down beside the bed
+with the children.
+
+Meanwhile, Morel had only recovered from his temporary delirium to
+sink under the most painful reflections. Having become calm, he could
+view far too clearly the horror of his situation. The notary must be
+pitiless, since he had gone to such extremity; the bailiffs did but do
+their duty. The artisan was therefore resigned.
+
+"Come, come, let's be marching some time to-day," said Bourdin to him.
+
+"I cannot leave these diamonds here, my wife is half mad," said Morel,
+pointing to the stones scattered upon the bench; "the person for whom
+I work will come for them this morning, or in the course of the day.
+Their amount is considerable."
+
+"Good!" said Hoppy, who still remained near the half-open door: "good,
+good! Screech-Owl shall know that."
+
+"Grant me only till to-morrow," urged Morel, "that I may restore the
+diamonds."
+
+"Impossible! We must go immediately."
+
+"But I cannot, by leaving the diamonds here, run the risk of their
+being lost."
+
+"Take them with you, a coach waits at the door, which you will have to
+pay for, with the other expenses. We can call on the owner of the
+stones; if he is not at home you can place them in the registry at
+Clichy; they will be as safe there as in the bank. Come, make haste;
+we will slip away before your wife or children are aware of it."
+
+"Grant me only till to-morrow, that I may bury my child!" entreated
+Morel, with a supplicating voice, half stifled with the sobs he
+endeavored to restrain.
+
+"No! we have already lost more than an hour waiting here."
+
+"This burying still worries you, then?" added Malicorne.
+
+"Oh! yes, it makes me sad," said Morel, with bitterness; "you so much
+fear to grieve people. Well, then, a last farewell!"
+
+"There, again! confound you, make haste!" said Malicorne, with brutal
+impatience.
+
+"How long have you had the order to arrest me?"
+
+"The judgment was signed four months since; but it was only yesterday
+that our officer received instructions from the lawyer to put it in
+execution."
+
+"Yesterday only. Why was it delayed so long?"
+
+"How can I tell? Come, pack up."
+
+"Yesterday! and Louise not yet here! Where can she be? what has become
+of her?" said the lapidary, taking from the bench a card-box filled
+with cotton, in which he arranged the jewels. "But never mind that; in
+prison I shall have plenty of time for thinking."
+
+"Come, pack up the duds to take with you, and make haste and dress
+yourself."
+
+"I have no clothes to pack up: I have only these diamonds to take
+away, and place in the prison registry."
+
+"Well, then, dress yourself."
+
+"I have no other clothes than these."
+
+"Going out in these rags?" said Bourdin.
+
+"You will be ashamed of me, doubtless," said the lapidary, bitterly.
+
+"No, it is of no consequence, since we go in your coach," answered
+Malicorne.
+
+"Father, father! mother is calling you," said one of the children.
+
+"You hear?" muttered Morel, rapidly, appealing to one of the bailiffs;
+"do not be inhuman; grant me a last favor. I have not the courage to
+say farewell to my wife and children; it would break my heart. If they
+see you take me away they will run after me, and I would avoid that. I
+therefore beg of you to say aloud that you will return in three or
+four days, and pretend to go away; you can wait for me on the landing
+below; I will come to you in less than five minutes. That will spare
+me the pain of saying farewell. I will no longer resist, I promise
+you. I shall go stark mad; I was nearly so just now."
+
+"Not so green!--you want to give us the slip!" said Malicorne, "want
+to bolt, old son!"
+
+"Oh, God! God!" cried Morel, with mournful indignation.
+
+"I don't think he intends to chouse us," said Bourdin, in a low tone
+to his companion; "let us do as he wishes, or we'll never get away. I
+will wait outside the door, there is no other outlet from the garret--
+he cannot escape us."
+
+"Very well; but he needn't be so particular about leaving the mucky
+crib!" Then, addressing Morel in a low voice, he said: "Now then, look
+sharp, and we will wait for you below. Make haste, and offer some
+pretense for our going."
+
+"I thank you," said Morel.
+
+"Very well, it shall be so," said Bourdin, in a loud voice, and
+looking significantly at the artisan; "in such case, as you promise to
+pay in a short time, we will leave you for the present, and call again
+in four or five days; but then you must be punctual."
+
+"Yes, gentlemen, I trust I shall then be able to pay you."
+
+The bailiffs left the room; while Hoppy, for fear of being seen, had
+disappeared down the staircase at the same time the bailiffs quitted
+the garret.
+
+"Madame Morel, do you hear?" said Miss Dimpleton, trying to withdraw
+the attention of the mother from her melancholy abstraction; "they
+will not take away your husband--the two men are gone."
+
+"Mother, don't you hear? they will not take father away," said the
+eldest of the boys.
+
+"Morel, listen to me," murmured Madeleine, in a state of delirium.
+"Take one of the large diamonds and sell it--no one will know it, and
+we shall be saved. Our Adele will no longer feel cold; she will not be
+dead."
+
+Taking advantage of a moment when none belonging to him were observing
+his actions, the lapidary cautiously left the room. The bailiff was
+waiting for him upon a sort of little landing, covered also by the
+roof. Upon this landing, opened the door of a loft, which had formerly
+been part of the garret occupied by the Morels, and in which Pipelet
+kept his stock of leather; and the worthy porter called this place his
+_box at the play_, because, by means of a hole made in the wall
+between two laths, he was sometimes a witness to the sad scenes that
+passed in the Morels' room. The bailiff noticed the door of the loft;
+in a moment he thought that most likely his prisoner had reckoned upon
+that outlet for escape, or to hide himself.
+
+"Come, march, old fellow!" said he, beginning to descend the stair,
+and making a sign to the lapidary to follow.
+
+"One minute more, I beseech!" said Morel; and he fell on his knees
+upon the floor. Through a chink in the door, he threw a last look upon
+his family, and clasping his hands, he uttered, in a low, heart-rending
+voice, while tears flowed down his haggard cheeks: "Farewell,
+my dear children--my poor wife! may heaven preserve you all!
+Farewell!"
+
+"Make haste and cut that sermon," said Bourdin, brutally, "Malicorne
+is quite right; you needn't make so much fuss about leaving the
+stinking kennel. What a hole! what a hole!"
+
+Morel rose to follow the bailiff, when the words "Father! father!"
+sounded on the staircase.
+
+"Louise!" exclaimed the lapidary, raising his hands toward heaven; "I
+can then clasp you to my breast before I go!"
+
+"I thank thee, God, I am in time!" said the voice, approaching nearer
+and nearer, and light steps were heard rapidly ascending the stairs.
+
+"Be calm, my dear," said a third voice, sharp, asthmatic, and out of
+breath, coming from a lower part of the house;
+
+"I will lay in wait, if I must, in the alley, with my broom and my old
+darling, and they sha'n't leave here till you have spoken to them, the
+contemptible beggars!"
+
+The reader has doubtless recognized Mrs. Pipelet, who, less nimble
+than Louise, followed her slowly. An instant after, the lapidary's
+daughter was in her father's arms.
+
+"It is indeed you, Louise, my darling Louise!" said Morel, crying;
+"but how pale you are! For mercy's sake what ails you?"
+
+"Nothing, nothing, father," stammered Louise. "I have run so fast.
+Here is the money!"
+
+"How is this?"
+
+"You are free!"
+
+"So you know?"
+
+"Yes, yes! Here, sir, take the money," said the young girl, giving a
+rouleau of gold to Malicorne.
+
+"But this money, Louise--this money?"
+
+"You shall know all presently; don't be uneasy. Come and comfort dear
+mother."
+
+"No, not now!" exclaimed Morel, placing himself before the door,
+remembering that Louise was still in ignorance of the death of the
+little girl; "wait, I must speak to you. Now, about this money?"
+
+"Stay!" said Malicorne, as he finished counting the gold, and while
+putting it in his pocket; "sixty-four, sixty-five--that will just make
+thirteen hundred francs. Have you no more than that, my little dear?"
+
+"Why, you only owe thirteen hundred francs?" said Louise, addressing
+her father, with a stupefied air.
+
+"Yes," said the lapidary.
+
+"Stop!" rejoined the catchpole; "the bill is for thirteen hundred
+francs. Well, the bill is paid; but the expenses? Without the
+execution, they are already eleven hundred and forty francs."
+[Footnote: We append some curious facts about imprisonment for debt,
+taken from "_Le Pauvre Jacques_," a paper published by the
+Society of Christian Morality Prison Committee:--
+
+"A protest and a warrant is legally set down as at 4 francs 35
+centimes for the first, and 4 francs 70 centimes for the other, but is
+generally increased by the warrant-officers to 10fr. 40c., and 16fr.
+40c. respectively. Thus 26fr. 80c. illegally obtained for what should
+have been but 9fr. 50c. The law sets down bailiff fees thus:--Stamp
+and registry, 3fr. 50c.; hackney-coach, 5fr.; arresting and
+imprisonment, 60fr. 25c.; turnkey's fee, 8fr. Total 76fr. 75c. One
+bill of charges taken as the average of those sent in by sheriffs'
+officers, swells the above to 240 francs!"
+
+In the same paper is this paragraph:--
+
+"M---, bailiff, has written to desire correction of the article on the
+Hanged Woman. He did not kill her, he says. We did not say that he did
+_kill_ that unfortunate woman. We reprint that article:--
+
+"M---, bailiff, having writ out for a cabinet-maker in the Rue de la
+Lune, was seen by the latter from the house windows. He called out to
+his wife.--'I am lost, for there they come to arrest me!' His wife
+heard this, and fastened the door, while her husband hid him self in
+the loft. The bailiff called in a locksmith. The wife's room door was
+forced, and they found the woman had hanged herself! The sight of
+the corpse did not delay or prevent the officer hunting for the husband.
+'I arrest you.' 'I have no money.' 'To prison, then.' 'Very well, let me
+give my wife good-bye.' 'That be hanged, like she is herself. She's
+dead.' What can you complain of, M---? we only print your own words,
+which minutely and blackly paint this frightful picture."
+
+This same paper quotes three or four hundred facts, of which the
+following is a fair sample:--
+
+"On collection of a 300 franc debt a warrant-officer charged 964
+francs! The debtor, a workman with five children, lay seven months in
+prison."
+
+For two reasons, the present writer quotes from "_Le Pauvre
+Jacques_," firstly, to show that the chapter just read falls below
+reality; and again, to prove that, if merely in a philanthropic point
+of view, the maintenance of such a state of things (the exorbitance of
+extras, illegally extorted by public servants,) often paralyzes the
+most generous intentions. For instance, with 1,000 francs there might
+be three or four honest though unfortunate workmen restored to their
+families from a prison whither petty debts of 250 or 500 francs had
+driven them; but these sums being tripled by a shameful exaggeration
+of costs, the most charitable persons often recoil from doing a good
+deed at the thought of two-thirds of their bounty merely going to
+sheriffs and their officers. And yet, there are few hardships more
+worthy of relief than those befalling such unfortunate people as we
+speak of.]
+
+"Gracious heaven!" cried Louise; "I thought it was only thirteen
+hundred francs in all! But, sir, we will very soon pay you the
+remainder; this is a pretty good sum on account--is it not, father?"
+
+"Soon!--very well; bring the money to the office, and we will then let
+your father go. Come, let's be off."
+
+"You will take him away?"
+
+"At once. This is on account. When the rest is paid, he will be free.
+Go on, Bourdin; let us get out of this."
+
+"Mercy! mercy!" shrieked Louise.
+
+"Oh, what a row! here it is--the old game over again: it is enough to
+make one sweat in the depth of winter--on my honor!" said the bailiff,
+in a brutal tone. Then advancing toward Morel, he continued: "If you
+don't come along at once, I will take you by the collar, and bundle
+you down. This wind-up is beastly!"
+
+"Oh, poor father! when I had hoped to save you!" said Louise,
+overwhelmed.
+
+"No, no! hope nothing for me! Heaven is not just!" cried the lapidary,
+in a voice of deep despair, and stamping his feet with rage.
+
+"Peace! heaven is just! There is Providence for honest men!" said a
+soft, yet manly voice.
+
+The same instant Rudolph appeared at the door of the little recess,
+from whence he had, unseen, witnessed the greater part of the scenes
+we have just related. He was very pale, and deeply moved. At this
+sudden interposition, the bailiffs drew back with surprise; while
+Morel and his daughter stared at the prince vacantly. Taking from his
+pocket a small parcel of folded bank notes, Rudolph selected three,
+and giving them to Malicorne, said to him: "Here are two thousand five
+hundred francs; give back to this girl the money you have just
+received from her."
+
+More and more surprised, the bailiff took the notes hesitatingly,
+examined them very suspiciously, turning them over and over, and
+finally pocketed them. But as his alarm and surprise began to subside,
+so did his natural coarseness return, and eying Rudolph from head to
+foot with an impertinent stare, he exclaimed, "Your notes are good;
+but how came the likes of you with so large a sum? I hope, at least,
+it is your own!" added he.
+
+Rudolph was very humbly dressed, and covered with dust--thanks to his
+stay in Pipelet's loft.
+
+"I have bidden you restore that gold to the young girl," answered
+Rudolph, in a sharp, stern voice.
+
+"Bid me! Who gives you the right to order me?" cried the bailiff,
+advancing toward Rudolph, in a threatening manner.
+
+"The gold! the gold!" said the prince, seizing the fellow's wrist so
+violently that he winced under the iron hold, and cried out,
+
+"Oh, you hurt me! Hands off!"
+
+"Restore the gold! you are paid. Take yourself off, without further
+insolence, or I will kick you to the foot of the stairs."
+
+"Very well; here is the gold," said Malicorne, giving it to the girl;
+"but mind what you are about, young man--don't fancy you are going to
+do as you like with me, because you happen to be the strongest."
+
+"That's right. Who are you, to give yourself such airs?" said Bourdin,
+sheltering himself behind his companion. "Who are you?"
+
+"Who is he? He is my tenant, the king of tenants, you foul-mouthed
+wretches!" cried Mrs. Pipelet, who appeared at last, quite out of
+breath, still wearing the Brutus wig. In her hand she held an earthen
+pot filled with boiling soup, which she was kindly taking to the
+Morels.
+
+"What does this old polecat want?" said Bourdin.
+
+"If you dare to pass any of your blackguard remarks upon me, I'll make
+you feel my nails--and my teeth too, if necessary!" screamed Mrs.
+Pipelet: "and more than that, my lodger, my prince of lodgers, will
+pitch you from the top to the bottom of the staircase, as he says! And
+I will sweep you away like a heap of rubbish, as you are!"
+
+"This old woman will rouse all the people in the house against us. We
+are paid, and our expenses also; let us be off!" said Bourdin to
+Malicorne.
+
+"Here are your documents," said the last-named individual, throwing a
+bundle of papers at Morel's feet.
+
+"Pick them up, and deliver them properly! You are paid for being
+civil," said Rudolph, seizing the bailiff with his vigorous hand,
+while the other he pointed to the papers.
+
+Convinced by this new and formidable grasp that he could not struggle
+against so powerful an adversary, the bailiff stooped down grumbling,
+picked up the bundle of papers, and gave them to Morel, who took them
+mechanically. The lapidary believed himself under the influence of a
+dream.
+
+"Mind, young fellow, although you have an arm as strong as a porter's,
+never come under our lash!" said Malicorne. Shaking his fist at
+Rudolph, he nimbly jumped down the stairs, followed by his companion,
+who looked behind him with fear.
+
+Mrs. Pipelet, burning for revenge on the bailiffs, for the insults
+offered to Rudolph, looked at her saucepan with an air of inspiration,
+and cried out, heroically: "Morel's debts are paid; they will now have
+plenty to eat, and no longer stand in need of my soup--heads!" Leaning
+over the banisters, the old woman emptied the contents of her saucepan
+on the backs of the bailiffs, who had just arrived at the first-floor
+landing.
+
+"Oh, you are caught, I see!" added the portress. "They are soaked
+through like two sops! He! he! this is capital!"
+
+"A thousand million thunders!" cried Malicorne, wet through with Mrs.
+Pipelet's culinary preparation. "Will you take care what you are about
+up there, you old baggage!"
+
+"Alfred!" retorted Mrs. Pipelet, bawling in a voice sharp enough to
+split the tympanum of a deaf man. "Alfred! have at 'em, old darling!
+They wanted to behave improperly to thy 'Stasie! (Anastasia). Those
+rascals would take liberties with me! Pitch into them with your broom!
+call the oyster-woman and the potboy next door to help you. Quick!--
+quick!--after them! Murder! police! thieves! Hish!--hish!--hish!
+bravo! Halloo! go it, old darling! Broom!--broom!" By way of a
+formidable finish to these hootings, which she had accompanied with a
+violent stamping of her feet, Mrs. Pipelet, carried away by the
+intoxication of her victory, hurled from the top to the bottom of the
+staircase her earthenware saucepan, which, breaking with a loud,
+crashing noise, the very moment the bailiffs, stunned by the frightful
+cries, were taking the stairs four at a time, added greatly to their
+fears.
+
+"Ha! ha! I rayther think you have got enough for once!" cried
+Anastasia laughing loudly, and folding her arms in an attitude of
+triumph.
+
+While Mrs. Pipelet was thus venting her rage upon the bailiffs, Morel,
+overcome with gratitude, had thrown himself at Rudolph's feet.
+
+"Ah, sir, you have saved our lives! To whom do we owe this
+unlooked-for succor?"
+
+"'_To HIM who watches over and protects honest men_,' as our
+immortal Beranger says."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+MISS DIMPLETON.
+
+
+Louise, the lapidary's daughter, was possessed of remarkable
+loveliness; tall and graceful, she resembled the classic Juno for
+regularity of features, and the huntress Diana for the finish of her
+tall figure. In spite of her sunburned complexion, her rough and
+freckled hands, beautifully formed, but hardened by domestic labor; in
+spite of her humble garments, this girl possessed a nobility of
+exterior.
+
+We will not attempt to describe the gratitude and surprise of this
+family, so abruptly snatched from a fearful fate; in the first burst
+of happiness, even the death of the little girl was forgotten. Rudolph
+alone remarked the extreme paleness of Louise, and the utter
+abstraction with which she seemed oppressed, in spite of her father's
+deliverance. Wishing to completely satisfy the Morels as to
+apprehensions about the future, and to explain a liberality which
+might otherwise betray suspicions as to the character he thought
+proper to assume, Rudolph said to the lapidary, whom he took to the
+landing (while Miss Dimpleton broke to Louise the news of her sister's
+death):
+
+"Yesterday morning a young lady came to see you."
+
+"Yes, sir, and appeared much distressed at the situation in which she
+found us."
+
+"It is to her you must return thanks, and not to me."
+
+"Is it indeed true, sir? That young lady--"
+
+"Is your benefactress. I have often waited upon her with goods from
+our warehouse. The day before yesterday, while I was here engaging an
+apartment on the fourth story, I learned from the portress your cruel
+position. Knowing this lady's charity, I went to her. She came, so
+that she might herself judge of the extent of your misfortunes, with
+which she was painfully moved; but as your situation might be the
+result of misconduct, she begged of me as soon as possible, to make
+some inquiries respecting you, as she was desirous of apportioning her
+benefits according to your deserts."
+
+"Good and excellent lady! I had reason to say--"
+
+"As you observed to Madeleine: 'If the rich knew,' is it not so?"
+
+"How, sir!--you know the name of my wife! Who told you that?"
+
+"Since six o' clock this morning," said Rudolph, interrupting Morel,
+"I have been concealed in the little loft which adjoins your garret."
+
+"You, sir!"
+
+"Yes, and I have heard all that passed, my honest man."
+
+"Oh, sir! but why were you there?"
+
+"I could employ no better means of getting at your real character and
+sentiments. I wished to see and hear all, without your knowledge. The
+porter had spoken to me of this little nook, and offered it to me that
+I might keep my wood in it. This morning I requested him to permit me
+to visit it; I remained there an hour, and I feel convinced that there
+does not exist a character more worthy, noble, and courageously
+resigned than yours."
+
+"Nay, sir, indeed I cannot see much merit in my conduct; I was born
+honest, and cannot act otherwise than I have done."
+
+"I know it; and for that reason I do not praise your conduct but
+appreciate it. I had quitted the loft to release you from the bailiffs
+when I heard your daughter's voice. I wished to leave her the pleasure
+of saving you; unhappily the rapacity of the bailiffs prevented poor
+Louise from enjoying so sweet a delight. I then made my appearance.
+Fortunately, I yesterday recovered several sums of money that were due
+to me, and I was able to give an advance to your benefactress by
+paying for you this unfortunate debt. But your misfortunes are so
+great, so unmerited, so nobly sustained, that the interest felt for
+you and deserved, will not stop here. I can, in the name of your
+preserving angel, assure you of future repose with happiness to you
+and yours."
+
+"Is it possible? But at least tell me her name, sir--the name of this
+preserving angel, as you have called her."
+
+"Yes, she is an angel; and you have still reason to say that the great
+and the lowly have their troubles."
+
+"Is this lady, then, unhappy?"
+
+"Who is there without their sorrows? But I see no cause to withhold
+her name. This lady is called--"
+
+Remembering that Mrs. Pipelet knew that Lady d'Harville had come to
+her house to inquire for the Commander, Rudolph, hearing the
+indiscreet gossiping of the portress, said after a moment's
+reflection: "I will tell you the name of this lady on one condition--"
+
+"Oh, pray, speak, sir!"
+
+"It is, that you will repeat it to no one. You understand!--to no
+one."
+
+"Oh, I will solemnly promise that to you. But cannot I at least offer
+my thanks to this savior of the unhappy?"
+
+"I will ask Lady d'Harville, and I doubt not she will give her
+consent."
+
+"Then this lady is--"
+
+"The Marchioness d'Harville."
+
+"Oh, I shall never forget that name! It shall be my saint, my
+adoration! To think that, thanks to her, my wife and children are
+saved! saved!--no, not all, not all, my poor little Adele, we shall
+never see her again. Alas! but it is necessary to remember that any
+day we might have lost her, for she was doomed." Here the poor
+lapidary brushed the tears from his eyes.
+
+"As regards the last sad duties to be performed for this little one,"
+said Rudolph, "trust to my advice; this is what must be done: I do not
+yet occupy my room, which is large, wholesome, and well aired. There
+is already a bed in it; we will convey thither all that is necessary
+for yourself and family to be established there till Lady d'Harville
+has arranged where to lodge you suitably. Your child's body will
+remain in the garret, where it shall to-night, as is customary, be
+attended and watched by a priest. I will go and request M. Pipelet to
+undertake the management of these sad duties."
+
+"But, sir, it is not necessary to deprive you of your room. Now that
+we are in peace, and I no longer fear being taken to prison, our
+humble apartment appears to me a palace, particularly if my dear
+Louise remains with us, to attend to the family as formerly."
+
+"Your Louise will not again leave you. You said not long ago it would
+be a luxury to have her always with you; as some recompense for your
+past sufferings, she shall never leave you again."
+
+"Oh, sir, can it be possible? It surely cannot be a reality! My senses
+seem lulled in a sweet dream. I have never thought much of religion,
+but this sudden change from so much misery to so much happiness shows
+the hand of an overruling Providence."
+
+"And if a father's grief could be assuaged by promises of reward or
+recompense," said Rudolph, "I should remind you, that although the
+Almighty hand has removed one of your daughters from you, He has
+mercifully restored another."
+
+"True, true, sir. Henceforth we shall have our dear Louise to content
+us for the loss of poor little Adele."
+
+"You will accept my chamber, will you not? If you refuse, how can you
+manage the mournful duties toward the poor child that is gone? Think
+also of your wife, whose mind is already so distracted--to leave her
+for four-and-twenty hours with such an afflicting spectacle before her
+eyes!"
+
+"You think of everything--of all! How kind you are, sir!"
+
+"It is your benefactress you must thank, for her goodness inspires me.
+I say to you as she would say, and I am sure she would approve of all;
+so it is agreed that you will accept the offer of my room. Now tell
+me, this Jacques Ferrand--"
+
+A dark frown passed across Morel's face.
+
+"This Jacques Ferrand," continued Rudolph, "is the same lawyer who
+resides in the Rue du Sentier?"
+
+"Yes, sir; do you know him?" Then, his fears newly awakened on the
+subject of Louise, Morel exclaimed: "Since you have heard all that
+passed, sir, say, say--have I not a right to hate this man? And who
+knows, if my child, my Louise--"
+
+He could not proceed; he hid his face with his hands. Rudolph
+understood his fears.
+
+"The lawyer's proceedings," said he to him, "ought to reassure you, as
+he doubtless ordered your arrest to be revenged for the scorn of your
+daughter; I have good reason, too, to believe that he is a dishonest
+man. If he is so," resumed Rudolph, after a moment's silence, "let us
+believe that Providence will punish him. If the justice of Heaven
+often appears to slumber it awakens some time or other."
+
+"He is very rich, and very hypocritical, sir."
+
+"In your deepest despair, a guardian angel came to your assistance,
+and plucked you from inevitable ruin; so, at a moment when least
+expected, the Almighty Avenger may call upon the lawyer to atone for
+his past crimes if he be guilty."
+
+At this moment Miss Dimpleton came from the garret, wiping her eyes.
+Rudolph said to the young girl, "Will it not, my good neighbor, be
+better that M. Morel should occupy my room, with his family, until his
+benefactress, whose agent I am, shall have provided a suitable
+lodging?"
+
+Miss Dimpleton regarded Rudolph with a look of unfeigned surprise.
+"Oh, sir! are you really in earnest when you make so generous an
+offer?"
+
+"Yes, but on one condition, which will depend on yourself."
+
+"Oh, depend upon all that is in my power!"
+
+"I had some accounts required in haste, to arrange for my employers;
+they will come for them soon. Now, if you will be so neighborly as to
+permit me to work in your room, on a corner of your table, I should
+not disturb your work in the least, and the Morel family can, with the
+assistance of M. and Mrs. Pipelet, immediately be settled in my room."
+
+"Oh, if it be only that, sir, most willingly; neighbors ought to
+assist each other. You have set so good an example by what you have
+done for that poor Morel, that I am at your service, sir."
+
+"No, no, call me neighbor. If you use any ceremony toward me, I shall
+not have courage to intrude on you," said Rudolph.
+
+"Well, then, it shall be so, I will call you 'neighbor,' because you
+really are so."
+
+"Father, father!" cried one of Morel's little boys, coming out of the
+garret, "mother is calling you; come directly, pray do." The lapidary
+hastily entered the room.
+
+"Now, neighbor," said Rudolph to Miss Dimpleton, "you must render me a
+still further service."
+
+"With all my heart, if it be in my power."
+
+"You are, I am sure, an excellent little housewife. It is necessary to
+purchase immediately all that is wanted for Morel's family to be
+properly clothed, bedded, and settled in my room, for there is only
+sufficient for myself as a bachelor, that was brought yesterday. How
+can we manage to procure instantly all I wish for the Morels?"
+
+Miss Dimpleton thought for a moment, and answered: "In a couple of
+hours you can have all your want; good clothes ready-made, warm and
+neat, with good clean linen for all the family: two little beds for
+the children, and one for the grandmother--in short, all that is
+necessary; but it will cost a great deal of money."
+
+"You don't say so! How much?"
+
+"Oh, at least--at the very least--five or six hundred francs."
+
+"For everything?"
+
+"Yes, it is a great sum of money, you see," said Miss Dimpleton
+opening her large eyes, and shaking her bead.
+
+"And we can procure all these things--"
+
+"In two hours."
+
+"You must be a fairy, neighbor."
+
+"Oh, no, it is quite easy. The Temple is only two steps from here,
+where you will find all of which you are in want." "The Temple?"
+
+"Yes, the Temple."
+
+"What place is that?"
+
+"Don't know the Temple, neighbor?"
+
+"No."
+
+"It is, nevertheless, here where people like you and I furnish our
+rooms, and clothe ourselves, when we would be economical. Things are
+cheaper there than elsewhere, and quite as good."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"I assure you. Come, now, I suppose--But what did you pay for this
+great-coat?"
+
+"I do not know exactly."
+
+"What, neighbor, can't tell how much your great-coat cost you?"
+
+"I acknowledge to you in confidence," said Rudolph, smiling, "that I
+owe for it; now do you understand that I cannot know?"
+
+"Oh, neighbor, neighbor, I fear you are a spendthrift!"
+
+"Alas! neighbor!"
+
+"You must alter in that respect, if you wish us to be good friends;
+and I already see that we shall be such, you appear so kind! You shall
+see that you will be glad to have me for a neighbor; for on that
+account we can assist each other. I will take care of your linen, and
+you will help me clean my room. I rise very early, and will call you,
+so that you may not be late at your shop. I'll knock at the wall until
+you say to me: 'Good-morning, neighbor.'"
+
+"It is agreed; you shall wake me, take care of my linen, and I will
+clean your room."
+
+"And you will be very neat?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And when you wish to make any purchase, you will go to the Temple,
+because here is an example; your greatcoat cost, I suppose, eighty
+francs; very well, you could have had it at the Temple for thirty."
+
+"Why, that is marvelous! Then you think that with five or six hundred
+francs, these poor Morels--"
+
+"Will be stocked with everything, first-class, for a long time to
+come."
+
+"Neighbor, an idea has just struck me."
+
+"Well, what is it about?"
+
+"Do you understand household affairs--are you clever at making
+purchases?"
+
+"Yes--rather so," said Miss Dimpleton, with a look of simplicity.
+
+"Take my arm, and let us go to the Temple and buy wherewith to clothe
+the Morels; will that suit you?"
+
+"Oh, what happiness! Poor creatures!--but where's the money?"
+
+"I have sufficient."
+
+"Five hundred francs?"
+
+"The benefactress of the Morels has given me _carte blanche;_
+nothing is to be spared that these poor people require. Is there even
+a place where better things are to be had than at the Temple?"
+
+"You will find nowhere better; then there is everything, and all
+ready-made--little frocks for the children, and dresses for their
+mother."
+
+"Then let us go at once to the Temple, neighbor."
+
+"Oh! but--"
+
+"What's wrong?"
+
+"Nothing; but you see, my time is everything to me; and I am already a
+little behindhand, in occasionally nursing the poor woman Morel; and
+you may imagine that an hour in one way and an hour in another makes
+in time a day; a day brings thirty sous, and if we earn nothing one
+must still live all the same. But, pshaw! never mind; I must spare
+from my nights; and then, again, parties of pleasure are rare, and I
+will make this a joyful day; it will seem to me that I am rich, and
+that it is with my own money I am buying such good things for these
+poor Morels. Very well, as soon as I have put on my shawl and cap, I
+shall be at your service, neighbor."
+
+"Suppose, during the time, I bring my papers to your room?"
+
+"Willingly, and then you will see my apartment," said Miss Dimpleton,
+with pride; "for it is already put in order, and that will prove to
+you that I am an early riser, and that if you are sleepy and idle so
+much the worse for you, for I shall be a troublesome neighbor."
+
+So saying, light as a bird, she flew down the stairs, followed by
+Rudolph, who went to his room to brush off the dust he had carried
+away from Pipelet's loft. We will hereafter disclose to the reader how
+Rudolph was not yet informed of the abduction of Fleur-de-Marie from
+Bouqueval farm, and why he had not visited the Morels the day after
+the conversation with Lady d'Harville.
+
+Rudolph, for the sake of appearances, furnished himself with a large
+roll of papers, which he carried into Miss Dimpleton's room.
+
+Miss Dimpleton was nearly of the same age as Goualeuse, her former
+prison-friend. There was between these girls the same difference that
+exists between laughter and tears; between joyful carelessness and
+melancholy reverie; between daring improvidence and serious, incessant
+anticipation of the future: between a nature exquisitely delicate,
+elevated, poetic, morbidly sensitive, incurably wounded by remorse,
+and a disposition gay, lively, happy, unreflective, although good and
+compassionate; for, far from being selfish, Miss Dimpleton only cared
+for the griefs of others; with them she sympathized entirely, devoting
+herself, soul and body, to those who suffered; but, to use a common
+expression, her _back turned_ on them, she thought no more about
+them. Often she interrupted a lively laugh to weep passionately, and
+checked her tears to laugh again. A real child of Paris, Miss
+Dimpleton preferred tumult to quiet, bustle to repose, the sharp,
+ringing harmony of the orchestra at the balls of the _Chartreuse_
+and the _Colysee_, to the soft murmur of wind, water, and trees;
+the deafening tumult of the streets of Paris, to the silence of the
+country; the dazzling of the fireworks, the glittering of the flowers,
+the crash of the rockets, to the serenity of a lovely night--starlit,
+clear, and still. Alas! yes, this good girl preferred the black mud of
+the streets of the capital to the verdure of its flowery meadows; its
+pavements miry or tortuous, to the fresh and velvet moss of the paths
+in the woods, perfumed by violets; the suffocating dust at the City
+gates, or the Boulevards, to the waving of the golden ears of corn,
+enameled by the scarlet of the wild poppy and the azure of the
+bluebell.
+
+Miss Dimpleton never left home but on Sundays, and every morning laid
+in her provisions of chick-weed, bread, hempseed, and milk for her
+birds and herself, as Mrs. Pipelet observed. But she lived in Paris
+for the sake of Paris; she would have been miserable elsewhere than in
+the capital.
+
+After a few words upon the personal appearance of the grisette, we
+will introduce Rudolph into his neighbor's apartment.
+
+Miss Dimpleton had scarcely attained her eighteenth year; rather below
+the middle size, her figure was so gracefully formed and voluptuously
+rounded, harmonizing so well with a sprightly and elastic step, that
+an inch more in height would have spoiled the graceful symmetry that
+distinguished her. The movement of her pretty little feet, incased in
+faultless boots of black cloth, with a rather stout sole, reminded you
+of the quick, pretty, and cautious tread of the quail or wagtail. She
+did not seem to walk, but to pass over the pavement as if she were
+gliding over its surface. This step, so peculiar to _grisettes_,
+at once nimble, attractive, and as if somewhat alarmed, may be
+attributed to three causes; their desire to be thought pretty, their
+fear of a too-plainly expressed admiration, and the desire they always
+have not to lose a minute in their peregrinations.
+
+Rudolph had never seen Miss Dimpleton but by the somber light in
+Morel's garret, or on the landing, equally obscure; he was therefore
+dazzled by the brilliant freshness of the girl, when he entered
+silently her room, lit by two large windows. He remained for an
+instant motionless, struck by the charming picture before him.
+Standing before a glass, placed over the chimney-piece, Miss Dimpleton
+had just finished tying under her chin the strings of a small cap of
+bordered tulle, trimmed with cherry-colored ribbons. The cap, which
+fitted tightly, was placed far back on her head, and thus revealed two
+large thick braids of glossy hair, shining like jet, and falling very
+low in front. Her eyebrows, well-defined, seemed as if traced in ink,
+and were arched above large black eyes, full of vivacity and
+expression; her firm and downy cheeks were tinted with a lovely bloom,
+like a ripe peach sprinkled with the dew of morning. Her small,
+upturned, and saucy nose would have made the fortune of a Lisette or
+Marton; her mouth, rather large, with rosy lips and small white teeth,
+was full of laughter and sport; her cheeks were dimpled and also her
+chin, not far from which was a little speck of beauty, a dark mole,
+_killingly_ placed at the corner of her mouth. Between a very low
+worked collar and the border of the little cap, gathered in by a
+cherry-colored ribbon, was seen beautiful hair, so carefully twisted
+and turned up, that its roots were as clear and as black as if they
+had been painted on the ivory of that tempting neck. A plum-colored
+merino dress, with a plain back and tight sleeves, skillfully made by
+herself, covered a bust so dainty and supple, that the young girl
+never wore a corset--for economy's sake. An ease and unusual freedom
+in the smallest action of the shoulders and body, resembling the
+facile, undulating motions of a cat, evinced this peculiarity. Imagine
+a gown fitting tightly to a form rounded and polished as marble, and
+we must agree that Miss Dimpleton could easily dispense with the
+accessory to the dress of which we have spoken. The band of a small
+apron of dark green levantine formed a girdle round a waist which
+might have been spanned with your two hands.
+
+[Illustration: THE ROTUNDA]
+
+Supposing herself to be quite alone (for Rudolph still remained at the
+door motionless and unperceived), Miss Dimpleton, after having
+smoothed the bands of her hair with her small white hand, placed her
+little foot upon a chair, and stooped down to tighten her boot-lace.
+This attitude disclosed to Rudolph a snow-white cotton stocking, and
+half of a beautifully formed leg.
+
+After this detailed account we may conclude that Miss Dimpleton had
+put on her prettiest cap and apron, to do honor to her neighbor on
+their visit to the Temple. The person of the pretended merchant's
+clerk was quite to her taste: his face, benevolent, proud, and noble,
+pleased her greatly: and then he had shown so much compassion toward
+the poor Morels, in giving up his room to them, that, thanks to his
+kindness of heart, and perhaps also to his good looks, Rudolph had
+made great steps in the confidence of the grisette, who, according to
+her ideas of the necessity of reciprocal obligations imposed on
+neighbors, esteemed herself fortunate that Rudolph had succeeded the
+commission-traveler, Cabrion, and Francois Germain; for she had begun
+to feel that the next room had been too long empty, and she feared,
+above all, that it would not be _agreeably_ occupied.
+
+Rudolph took advantage of his being unperceived, to throw a curious
+look around this room, which he found deserved more praise than Mrs.
+Pipelet had given to the extreme neatness of Miss Dimpleton's humble
+home. Nothing could be gayer or better arranged than this little room.
+A gray paper, with green flowers, covered the walls; the red-waxed
+floor shone like a mirror; a saucepan of white earthenware was on the
+hob, where was also arranged a small quantity of wood, cut so fine and
+small that you could well compare each piece to a large match. Upon
+the stone mantelpiece, representing gray marble, were placed for
+ornament two common flower-pots, painted an emerald green; a little
+wooden stand held a silver watch, which served in lieu of a clock. On
+one side shone a brass candle-stick, bright as gold, ornamented with
+an end of wax candle; on the other side, was one of those lamps formed
+of a cylinder, with a tin reflector, mounted upon a steel stem, with a
+leaden stand. A tolerably large glass, in a frame of black wood,
+surmounted the mantel.
+
+Curtains of green and gray chintz, bordered with worsted galloon, cut
+out and arranged by Miss Dimpleton, and placed on slight rods of black
+iron, draperied the windows; and the bed was covered with a quilt of
+the same make and material. Two glass-fronted cupboards, painted white
+and varnished, were placed each side of the recess; no doubt
+containing the household utensils--the portable stove, the broom,
+etc., etc.; for none of these necessaries destroyed the harmonious
+arrangement of the room.
+
+A walnut chest of drawers, beautifully grained and well polished, four
+chairs of the same wood, a large table with one of those green cloth
+covers sometimes seen in country cottages, a straw-bottom armchair,
+with a footstool--such was the unpretending furniture. There was, too,
+in the recess in one of the windows, the cage of the two canaries,
+faithful companions of Miss Dimpleton. By one of those notable
+inventions which arise only in the minds of poor people, the cage was
+set in the middle of a large chest, a foot in depth, upon the table:
+this chest, which Miss Dimpleton called the garden of her birds, was
+filled with earth, covered with moss during the winter, and in the
+spring with turf and flowers. Rudolph gazed into this apartment with
+interest and curiosity; he perfectly comprehended the joyous humor of
+this young girl; he pictured the silence disturbed by the warbling
+birds, and the singing of Miss Dimpleton. In the summer, doubtless,
+she worked near the open window, half hidden by a verdant curtain of
+sweet pea, nasturtium, and blue and white morning-glories; in the
+winter, she sat by the side of the stove, enlivened by the soft light
+of her lamp.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rudolph was thus far in these reflections, when, looking mechanically
+at the door, he noticed a strong bolt--a bolt that would not have been
+out of place on the door of a prison. This bolt caused him to reflect.
+It had two meanings, two distinct uses: to shut the door _upon_
+lovers within--to shut the door _against_ lovers without. One of
+these uses would utterly contradict the assertions of Mrs. Pipelet--
+the other would confirm them. Rudolph had just arrived at these
+conclusions, when Miss Dimpleton, turning her head, perceived him,
+and, without changing her position, said: "What, neighbor! there you
+are then!" Instantly the pretty leg disappeared under the ample skirt
+of the currant-colored gown, and Miss Dimpleton added: "Caught you,
+Cunning!"
+
+"I am here, admiring in silence."
+
+"And what do you admire, neighbor?"
+
+"This pretty little room, for you are lodged like a queen."
+
+"Nay, you see, this is my enjoyment. I seldom go out; so at least I
+may please myself at home."
+
+"But I do not find fault. What tasteful curtains! and the drawers--as
+good as mahogany. You must have spent heaps of money here."
+
+"Oh, pray don't remind me of it! I had four hundred and twenty-six
+francs when I left prison, and almost all is gone."
+
+"When you left prison?"
+
+"Yes; it is quite a story. But you do not, I hope, think I was in
+prison for any crime?"
+
+"Certainly not; but how was it?"
+
+"After the cholera, I found myself alone in the world; I was then, I
+believe, about ten years of age."
+
+"Until that time, who had taken care of you?"
+
+"Oh, very good people; but they died of the cholera (here the large
+black eyes became tearful); the little they left was sold to discharge
+two or three small debts, and I found that no one would shelter me.
+Not knowing what to do I went to the guard-house, opposite where I had
+resided, and said to the sentinel: 'Soldier, my parents are dead, and
+I do not know where to go. What must I do?' The sub-officer came and
+took me to the magistrate, who sent me to prison as a vagabond, which
+I was allowed to quit at sixteen years of age."
+
+"But your parents?"
+
+"I do not know who was my father; I was six years old when I lost my
+mother, who had taken me from the Foundling Hospital, where she had
+been compelled at first to place me. The kind people of whom I have
+spoken lived in our house; they had no children, and seeing me an
+orphan, took care of me."
+
+"And how did they live? What was their condition in life?"
+
+"Papa Cretu, so I always called him, was a house-painter, and the
+female who lived with him worked at her needle."
+
+"Then they were tolerably well off?"
+
+"Oh, as well off as most people in their station. Though not married,
+they called each other husband and wife. They had their ups and downs;
+to-day in abundance, if there was plenty of work; to-morrow
+straitened, if there was not any; but that did not prevent them from
+being contented and gay (at this remembrance Miss Dimpleton's face
+brightened). There was nowhere near a house like it--always cheerful,
+always singing; and with all that, good and kind beyond belief! What
+was theirs, was for others also. Mamma Cretu was a plump body of
+thirty, clean as a new penny, lively as an eel, merry as a finch. Her
+husband was a regular jolly old King Cole; he had a large nose, a
+large mouth, always a paper cap on his head, and a face so droll--oh,
+so droll, that you could not look at him without laughing! When he
+returned home after work he did nothing but sing, make faces, and
+gambol like a child. He made me dance, and jump upon his knees; he
+played with me as if he were my own age, and his wife entirely spoilt
+me. Both required of me but one thing--to be good-humored; and in
+that, thank God! I never disappointed them; so they baptized me,
+Dimpleton (not Simpleton, neighbor!) and the cap fitted. As to gayety,
+they set me the example: never did I see them sad. If they uttered
+reproaches at all, it was the wife said to her husband: 'Stop, Cretu,
+you make me laugh too much!' or he said to her 'Hold your tongue,
+Ramonette (I do not know why he called her Ramonette), you will make
+me ill, you are so funny!' And as for me, I laughed to see them laugh.
+That's how I was brought up, and how my character was formed; I trust
+I have profited by it!"
+
+"To perfection, neighbor! Then they never quarreled?"
+
+"Never; oh, the biggest kind of never! Sunday, Monday, sometimes
+Tuesday, they had, as they called it, an outing, and took me always
+with them. Papa Cretu was a very good workman; when employed, he could
+earn what he pleased, and so could his wife too. As soon as they had
+sufficient for the Sunday and Monday, and could live till then, well
+or ill, they were satisfied. After that if they were on short
+allowance, they were still contented. I remember that when we had only
+bread and water, Papa Cretu used to take out of his library--"
+
+"He had a library?"
+
+"So he called a little chest, where he put his collections of new
+songs: for he bought all the new songs, and knew them all. When there
+was nothing in the house but bread, he would take from his library an
+old cookery-book, and say to us: 'Let us see what we will have to eat
+today--this or that?' and he would read to us a list of many good
+things. Each chose their dish. Papa Cretu would then take an empty
+stewpan, and with the drollest manner, and the funniest jests in the
+world, pretend to put in all the ingredients necessary to make a good
+stew, and seemed to pour it into a plate, also empty, which he would
+place on the table, always with grimaces that made us hold our sides,
+then taking his book again, he would read, for example, the receipt
+for a good fricassee of chicken that we had chosen, and that made our
+mouths water; we then eat our bread (while he read) laughing like so
+many mad things."
+
+"And were they in debt?"
+
+"Not at all! As long as they had money they feasted: when they had
+none they dined on _water-color_ as Papa Cretu called it."
+
+"And did they not think of the future?"
+
+"Oh, yes, they thought of it; but then our present and future were
+like Sunday and Monday--summer we spent gayly and happily outside the
+City, the winter we got over at home."
+
+"Since these poor people agreed so well together, why did they not
+marry?"
+
+"One of their friends once asked the same question, before me."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"They answered: 'If we should ever have children, we will marry; but
+we are very well as we are. What is the good of compelling us to do
+that which we now do willingly? Besides, it is expensive, and we have
+no money to spare.' But see how I am gossiping! as I always do on the
+subject of those good people, who were so kind to me, for I never tire
+of speaking of them. Here, neighbor, be civil enough to take my shawl,
+which is on the bed, and fasten it under the collar of my dress with
+this large pin, and we will then go, for we shall be some time
+selecting all you wish to purchase for the Morels."
+
+Rudolph hastened to obey the instructions; he took from the bed a
+large plaid shawl, and carefully arranged it on his neighbor's lovely
+shoulders.
+
+"Now then, lift up the collar a little, press the dress and shawl
+close together and stick in the pin. Above all, take care not to prick
+me."
+
+The prince executed the given instructions with zealous nicety; then
+he observed, smilingly, to the grisette, "Oh, Miss Dimpleton, I must
+not be your _femme de chambre_--there is danger in it!"
+
+"Yes, yes," answer Miss Dimpleton, gayly, "there is great danger of my
+having a pin run into me! But now," added she, after they had left the
+room and locked the door after them; "here, neighbor, take the key; it
+is so very heavy, that I always fear it will tear my pocket. It is
+quite a pistol for size!" And then she laughed merrily.
+
+Rudolph accordingly took possession of an enormous key--such a one as
+is sometimes seen in those allegorical representations where the
+vanquished offer the keys of their cities to the conquerors. Although
+Rudolph believed himself sufficiently changed by years not to be
+recognized by Polidori, he yet pulled up the collar of his coat before
+passing the door of the quack Bradamanti.
+
+"Neighbor, don't forget to tell M. Pipelet that some goods will be
+brought here, which must be taken to your room," said Miss Dimpleton.
+
+"You are right, neighbor; we will step into the lodge as we pass by."
+
+Pipelet, his everlasting immense hat, as usual, on his head, dressed
+in his green coat, was sitting gravely before a table, on which were
+spread pieces of leather and fragments of old shoes; he was occupied
+in putting a new sole to a boot, which he did with that serious and
+meditative air which characterized all his doings. Anastasia was
+absent from the lodge.
+
+"Well, M. Pipelet," said Miss Dimpleton, "I trust things will be
+better now! Thanks to my neighbor, the poor Morels were rescued from
+trouble just as those heartless bailiffs were about to drag the
+unhappy man to prison."
+
+"Oh! these bailiffs are really without hearts, or manners either,
+mademoiselle," added Pipelet, in an angry voice, flourishing the boot
+he was repairing, in which he had thrust his left hand and arm.
+
+"No! I do not fear to repeat, in the face of heaven and man, that they
+are without manners; they took advantage of the darkness of the
+staircase to make rude remarks on my wife's very person. On hearing
+the cries of her offended modesty, in spite of myself, I yielded to
+the impulse of my temper. I do not disguise it, my first movement was
+to remain perfectly motionless."
+
+"But afterward you followed them, I hope, M. Pipelet?" said Miss
+Dimpleton, who had some trouble to preserve a serious air.
+
+"I thought of it," answered Pipelet, with a deep sigh; "but when those
+shameless ruffians passed before my door, my blood rose, and I could
+not hinder myself from putting my hand before my eyes, to hide the
+monsters from my sight! But that does not surprise me; I knew
+something unfortunate would happen to me to-day, for I dreamed--last
+night--of Monster Cabrion!"
+
+Miss Dimpleton smiled, as Pipelet's painful sighs were mingled with
+the taps of the hammer, which he vigorously applied to the sole of the
+old boot.
+
+"You truly acted the part of a wise man, my dear M. Pipelet, that of
+despising offenses, and holding it beneath you to revenge them. But
+let us forget these miserable bailiffs. Will you be kind enough to do
+me a favor?" asked Rudolph.
+
+"Man is born to assist his fellow-man," replied Pipelet, in a
+sententious and melancholy tone: "and more particularly so when his
+fellow-man is so good a lodger as yourself."
+
+"It will be necessary to take up to my room different things which
+will be brought here presently for the Morels."
+
+"Be assured I will take charge of them," replied Pipelet, "and
+faithfully carry out your wishes."
+
+"And afterward," said Rudolph, sadly, "you must obtain a priest to
+watch by the little girl the Morels have lost in the night. Go and
+register her death, and order a decent funeral. Here is money; spare
+not, for Morel's benefactress, whose mere agent I am, wishes all to go
+well."
+
+"Make your mind quite easy, sir," replied Pipelet; "directly my wife
+comes back, I will go to the mayor, the church, and the ham-and-beef
+shop--to the church for the soul of the dead, to the cook-shop for the
+body of the living," added Pipelet, philosophically and poetically.
+"You may consider it done--already done, in both cases, my good sir."
+
+At the entrance, Rudolph and Miss Dimpleton found themselves face to
+face with Anastasia, who had returned from market, bearing a heavy
+basket of provisions.
+
+"Well done!" exclaimed the portress, looking at them both with a
+knowing and significant air; "already arm-in-arm! That's your sort!
+Young people will be young people--and where's the harm? To a pretty
+lass, a handsome lad! If you don't enjoy yourselves while young, you
+will find it difficult to do so when you get old! My poor dear Alfred
+and I, for instance, when we were young, didn't we go the pace--But
+now, oh, dear! oh, dear!--Well, never mind; go along, my dears, and
+make yourselves happy while you can. Love forever!" The old woman
+disappeared in the darkness of the alley, calling out, "Alfred, do not
+grumble, old darling. Here is 'Stasie who brings you good things--rare
+dainties!"
+
+The young couple had left the house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+To the mind of Rudolph, for Miss Dimpleton was too little prone to
+mournful impressions to long reflect on the matter, the troubles of
+the Morels had ceased; but in the grim reality, a calamity, ten fold
+severer than their direst poverty, was gathering and forming nearer
+them, ready to burst upon their heads almost before the gay young
+couple would return from their stroll. What this great evil was, and
+what fate befalls other characters yet to be introduced, will
+presently be revealed, in shadow and by sunshine.
+
+The Slasher, the Schoolmaster, the Screech-Owl, Hoppy, and the other
+wretches whose misdeeds blacken these pages, form the foil; while
+Fleur-de-Marie, Clemence d'Harville, Miss Dimpleton, and Mrs. George
+are the gems which will be seen to shed their luster and charm over
+the no less interesting pages of the Second Division of this work,
+entitled, "_Part Second:_ NOON."
+
+
+
+
+PART II.
+
+NOON.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE ARREST.
+
+
+To the snow of the past night had succeeded a very sharp wind; so that
+the pavement of the streets, usually muddy, was almost dry, as Rudolph
+and Miss Dimpleton directed their steps toward the extensive and
+singular bazaar called the Temple. The girl leaned without ceremony
+upon the arm of her cavalier, with as little restraint as though they
+had been intimate for a long time.
+
+"Isn't Mrs. Pipelet funny," said the grisette to Rudolph, "with the
+odd remarks she makes?"
+
+"Indeed, neighbor, I think she is quite right."
+
+"In what?"
+
+"Why when she said: 'Young people will be young people--and where's
+the harm?--Love forever!'"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well! I mean to say that I perfectly agree with her."
+
+"Agree with her!"
+
+"Yes, I should like nothing better than to pass my youth with you,
+taking '_Love forever_!' for my motto."
+
+"I believe it: you are not difficult to please."
+
+"Where is the harm? We are neighbors."
+
+"If we were not neighbors, I should not walk out with you in this
+way."
+
+"Then allow me to hope--"
+
+"Hope what?" "That you will learn to love me."
+
+"I love you already."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"To be sure I do and for a very simple reason. You are good and
+lively; although poor yourself, you do all you can for those
+unfortunate Morels, in interesting rich people in their behalf; you
+have a face that pleases me much, and a well-turned figure, which is
+agreeable and flattering to me, as I shall frequently accept your arm.
+Here are, I think, many reasons that I should love you."
+
+Then interrupting herself to enjoy a hearty laugh, Miss Dimpleton
+cried: "Look! look at that fat woman, with her old furrowed shoes; one
+could imagine her drawn along by two cats without tails!" And again
+she laughed merrily.
+
+"I prefer looking at you, neighbor; I am so happy in thinking you
+already love me."
+
+"I tell you so, because it is so; if you did not please me, I should
+say so all the same. I cannot reproach myself with having ever
+deceived or flattered any one; when people please me, I tell them so
+at once."
+
+Then, interrupting herself again, to stop before a shop-window, the
+grisette exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, look at that beautiful clock, and those two pretty vases! I have
+already saved up three francs and a half toward buying some like them.
+In five or six years I may be able to manage it."
+
+"Saved up, neighbor? Then you earn--"
+
+"At least thirty sous a day--sometimes forty, but I only reckon upon
+thirty; it is more prudent, and I regulate my expenses accordingly,"
+said Miss Dimpleton, with an air as important as though it related to
+the transactions of a financier.
+
+"But with thirty sous a day, how can you manage to live?"
+
+"The reckoning is not difficult; shall I explain it to you, neighbor?
+You appear rather extravagant, so it may serve you as an example."
+
+"Let's hear it."
+
+"Thirty sous a day will make forty-five francs a month, will it not?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, then, by that account I have twelve francs for lodging, and
+twenty-three francs for living."
+
+"Twenty-three francs for a month's living!"
+
+"Yes, quite as much. I acknowledge that, for a person like myself, it
+is enormous; but then, you see, I refuse myself nothing."
+
+"Oh, you little glutton!"
+
+"Ah, but I also include food for my birds."
+
+"Certainly, if you reckon for three, it is less extravagant. But let
+me hear the detail of your every-day management, that I may benefit by
+the instruction."
+
+"Listen then. A pound of bread, that is four sous; milk, two sous--
+that makes six; four sous for vegetables in winter, or fruit and salad
+in summer (I dote on salad and vegetables, because they do not soil
+the hands)--there is already ten sous; three sous for butter or oil
+and vinegar, as seasoning--thirteen sous; two pailfuls of water (oh,
+that is my luxury!) that will make fifteen sous; add to that two sous
+for chickweed and hempseed for my two birds, which usually share with
+me my bread and milk--that is twenty-two or twenty-three francs a
+month, neither more nor less."
+
+"And do you never eat meat?"
+
+"Oh, Lord! Meat indeed! that costs ten to twelve sous a pound; how can
+I think of that? Besides, it smells of the kitchen, of the stewpan;
+instead of which, milk, fruit, and vegetables require no cooking. I
+will tell you a dish I am very fond of, not troublesome, and which I
+make to perfection."
+
+"Hold up the dish!"
+
+"I put fine potatoes in the oven of my stove; when they are done, I
+mash them with a little butter and milk, and a pinch of salt. It is a
+meal for the gods! If you are well behaved I will let you taste them
+some day."
+
+"Prepared by your pretty hands, it cannot fail to be excellent. But
+let us see neighbor; we have already reckoned twenty-three francs for
+living, and twelve francs for lodging--that makes thirty-five francs a
+month."
+
+"Well, then, out of the forty-five or fifty francs I earn, there
+remain to me ten or fifteen francs for wood and oil during winter, as
+well as for my dress and washing--that is to say for soap--as,
+excepting my sheets, I wash for myself: that is another luxury--a
+laundress would pretty well ruin me; and as I also iron very well, I
+thereby save my money. During the five winter months I burn a load and
+a half of wood, and four or five sous-worth of oil in the day for my
+lamp; that makes nearly eighteen francs a year for my light and fire."
+
+"So that there remain to you more than a hundred francs for your
+clothing?"
+
+"Yes; and it is from that I have saved the three francs and a half."
+
+"But your dresses--your shoes and stockings--this pretty cap?"
+
+"My caps I only wear when I go out, and that does not ruin me, for I
+make them myself; at home I am satisfied with my hair. As to my
+dresses and boots--is there not the Temple?"--"Oh, yes, that
+contentment, excellent Temple! Well, you buy there--"
+
+"Very good and pretty dresses. You must know that rich ladies are
+accustomed to give their old dresses to their waiting maids--when I
+say old, I mean that maybe they have worn them in their carriages a
+month or two--and their servants go and sell them to people who keep
+shops at the Temple for almost nothing. Thus, you see, I have a nice
+merino dress that I bought for fifteen francs, which perhaps cost
+sixty; it has hardly been put on and is beautifully fine. I altered it
+to fit me, and I flatter myself it does me credit."
+
+"Indeed you do it much credit! Thanks to the resources of the Temple,
+I begin to think you can manage to dress respectably with a hundred
+francs a year."
+
+"To be sure I can. Why, I can buy charming dresses for five or six
+francs; and boots, the same that I have on now, and almost new, for
+two or three francs. Look! would not any one say that they were made
+for me?" said Miss Dimpleton, stooping and showing the tip of her
+pretty little foot, very nicely set off by the well-made and well-fitting
+boot.
+
+"The foot is charming, truly; but you must find a difficulty in
+fitting it. After that you will doubtless tell me that they sell
+children's shoes at the Temple."
+
+"You are a sad flatterer, neighbor; however, after what I have told
+you, you will acknowledge that a girl, quite alone and well, can live
+respectably on thirty sous a day? I must tell you, by-the-by, the four
+hundred and fifty francs which I brought from prison assisted
+materially in establishing me. When once known that I possessed
+furniture, it inspired confidence and I had work intrusted to me to
+take home; but it was necessary to wait a long time before I could
+meet with employment. Fortunately I kept sufficient money to live upon
+for three months, without earning anything."
+
+"Spite of your gay, heedless manner, allow me to say that you possess
+a great deal of good sense, neighbor."
+
+"Nay, when one is alone in the world, and would not be under
+obligation to any one, you must exercise some management to build your
+nest well, and take care of it when it is built, as the saying is."
+
+"And your nest is delightful!"
+
+"Is it not? for, as I have said, I refuse myself nothing; I consider I
+have a lodging above my station. Then, again, I have birds; in summer
+always at least two pots of flowers on the mantelpiece, besides the
+boxes in the windows; and then, as I told you, I had three francs or
+more in my money-box, toward ornaments I hoped one day to be able to
+purchase for the chimney-piece."
+
+"And what became of these savings?"
+
+"Why, latterly I have seen those poor Morels so unhappy, so very
+unhappy, that I said to myself: 'There is no sense in having these
+ugly pieces of money idling in a box, whilst poor people are perishing
+of hunger beside you,' so I lent them to Morel. When I say lent, I
+mean I told him I only lent them, in order to spare his feelings, for
+I assure you I gave them freely."
+
+"Yes, neighbor, but as they are no longer in want, you surely will not
+refuse to allow them to repay you?"
+
+"True, I shall not refuse it; it will be something toward the purchase
+of chimney-ornaments--my dream."
+
+"And then, again, you ought to think a little of the future."
+
+"The future?"
+
+"Should you fall ill, for instance."
+
+And, at the bare idea, Miss Dimpleton burst into an immoderate fit of
+laughter, so loud, that a fat man, who was walking before her,
+carrying a dog under his arm, turned round quite angrily, believing
+himself to be the butt. Miss Dimpleton, resuming her composure, made a
+half-courtesy to the stout person, and pointing to the animal under
+his arm, said: "Is your dog so very tired, sir?"
+
+The fat man grumbled something, and continued to walk.
+
+"Come, come, neighbor," said Rudolph; "are you losing your senses?"
+
+"It is your fault if I am."
+
+"My fault?"
+
+"Yes; because you say such silly things to me."
+
+"What, because I tell you that you may fall ill?"
+
+"I ill?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Am I a likely-looking person to be sick then?"
+
+"Never have I beheld a face more rosy and fresh!"
+
+"Very well then, why do you think I shall be ill?"
+
+"Nay, but--"
+
+"At eighteen years of age, leading the life I do, how can that be
+possible? I rise at five o'clock, winter and summer; I go to bed at
+ten or eleven; I eat to satisfy my hunger, which is not very great, it
+is true; I sing like a lark all day, and at night I sleep like a
+dormouse: I have a mind free, joyful, and contented, with the
+certainty of plenty of work, because my employers are pleased with
+what I have done. Why should I be sick! What an idea! Well, I never!"
+
+And Miss Dimpleton again relapsed into long and hearty laughter.
+Rudolph, struck with this blind, yet happy confidence in the future,
+reproached himself with having attempted to shake it. He thought, with
+horror, that an illness of a month could ruin this merry, peaceful
+mode of existence. Miss Dimpleton's deep faith in her health and her
+eighteen years, her only treasures, appeared to Rudolph something akin
+to holiness; for, on the young girl's part, it was neither
+carelessness nor improvidence, but an instinctive reliance on the
+commiseration of Divine justice, which could not abandon an
+industrious and virtuous creature, whose only error was a too
+confident dependence on the youth and health she enjoyed. The birds,
+as they cleave with gay and agile wings the azure skies in spring, or
+skim lightly over the blooming fields, do they think of the cheerless
+winter?
+
+"Then," said Rudolph to the grisette, "you are not ambitious to
+possess more than you have?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Absolutely nothing?"
+
+"No--that is to say, I should like to have my chimney-ornaments, and I
+shall have them, though I do not know when; but I have it in my head
+to possess them, and I will, if I should have to sit up to work all
+night to do it."
+
+"And besides these ornaments--"
+
+"I want for nothing; I cannot recollect a single thing more that I
+care about possessing now."
+
+"How now?"
+
+"Because, if you had asked me the same question yesterday, I should
+have told you I was longing for a suitable neighbor; so that I could
+arrange with him comfortably, as I have always done, to perform little
+services for him, that he might return nice little attentions to me."
+
+"Well, it is already agreed, my pretty neighbor, that you shall take
+charge of my linen, and that I shall clean your room--without naming
+your waking me early in the morning, by tapping at the wall."
+
+"And do you think that will be all?'
+
+"What else is there?"
+
+"Oh, bless your heart, you have not arrived at the end of what I
+expect of you. Is it not necessary that on Sundays you take me for a
+walk on the Boulevards?--you know that is the only day I have for
+recreation."
+
+"To be sure. In summer we will go into the country."
+
+"No, I detest the country. I like no place so well as Paris.
+Nevertheless, I went, once upon a time, out of good nature, with a
+young friend of mine, who was my companion in prison, to visit Meudon
+and Saint-Germain. My friend was a very pleasant, good girl, whom they
+called Sweet-throat, because she was always singing."
+
+"And what has become of her?"
+
+"I do not know. She spent all the money she brought from prison,
+without appearing to be much amused; she was always sad, but
+sympathizing and charitable. When we used to go out together, I had
+not then any work; but when I succeeded in obtaining some, I did not
+stir from home. I gave her my address, but as she has not been to see
+me, doubtless she has also some occupation, and, like me, is too busy
+to get out. I only mention this to let you know, neighbor, that I love
+Paris above every other place. So whenever you can, on Sunday, you may
+take me to dine at the ordinary, sometimes to the play; or, if you
+have not any money, you can take me to see the fashionable shops,
+which will amuse me almost as much. Rest satisfied, that in our little
+excursions I shall not disgrace you. You will see how smart I shall
+look in my pretty dress of blue levantine, that I only wear on
+Sundays: it suits me to perfection. With that I wear a pretty little
+cap, trimmed with lace and orange-colored ribbon, which does not
+contrast badly with my black hair; satin boots, that I have made for
+me; an elegant shawl of silk imitation Cashmere! Indeed, I expect,
+neighbor, people will turn round to look after us as we pass along.
+Men will say: 'Really, that is a pretty little girl, upon my word!'
+And the women, on their part, will exclaim: 'Look at that tall young
+man! what an elegant shape! He has an air that is truly fashionable!
+and his little brown mustache becomes him exceedingly!' And I shall be
+of their opinion, for I adore mustaches. Unfortunately, M. Germain did
+not wear one, because of the situation he held. M. Cabrion did, but
+then it was red, like his long beard, and I do not like those great
+beards; besides, he made himself so ridiculously conspicuous in the
+streets, and teased poor M. Pipelet so much. Now, M. Giraudeau, who
+was my neighbor before M. Cabrion, dressed well, and altogether had a
+very good appearance, but he squinted. At first it annoyed me very
+much, because he always appeared to be looking at some one at the side
+of me, and without thinking, I often turned round to see who--" And
+again Miss Dimpleton laughed.
+
+Rudolph, as he listened to this prattle, asked himself, for the third
+or fourth time, what he ought to think of the _virtue_ of Miss
+Dimpleton. Sometimes the frankness of the grisette, and the
+remembrance of the large bolt, made him almost believe that she loved
+her neighbors merely as _brothers_ or _companions_, and that
+Mrs. Pipelet had caluminated her; then again he smiled at his
+credulity, in thinking it probable that a girl so young, so pretty, so
+solitary, should have escaped the seductions of Giraudeau, Cabrion,
+and Germain. Still, for all that, Miss Dimpleton's frankness and
+originality disposed him to think favorably of her.
+
+"You delight me, neighbor, by your manner of disposing of my Sundays,"
+said Rudolph, gayly; "we will have some famous treats."
+
+"Stop a moment, Mr. Spendthrift. I warn you that I shall keep house.
+In summer, we can dine very well--yes, very well--for three francs, at
+the Chartreuse or at the Montmartre Hermitage, half a dozen country
+dances, or valses included, with a ride upon the wooden horses:--oh, I
+do so love riding on horseback! That will makeup your five francs--not
+a farthing more, I assure you. Do you valse?"
+
+"Very well."
+
+"Oh, this pleases me! M. Cabrion always trod on my feet, and then for
+fun he would throw fulminating balls on the ground, which was the
+reason they would not let him go any more to the Chartreuse."
+
+"Be assured, I will answer for my discretion wherever we go together;
+and as to the fulminating balls, I will have nothing to do with them.
+But in winter, what shall we do?" "In winter, we are less hungry, and
+can dine luxuriously for forty sous; then we shall have three francs
+left for the play, for I would not have you exceed a hundred sous--
+that is indeed too much to spend in pleasure; but if alone, you would
+spend much more at the wine-shop or the billiard-rooms, with low
+fellows, who smell horribly of tobacco. Is it not better to pass the
+day pleasantly with a young friend, very laughter-loving and discreet,
+who will save you some expense, by hemming your cravats, and taking
+care of your other little domestic affairs?"
+
+"It is clearly a gaining for me, neighbor; only if my friends should
+meet me with my pretty little friend on my arm, what then?"
+
+"Well, they will look at us and say: 'He is not at all unlucky, that
+rogue Rudolph!'"
+
+"You know my name?"
+
+"Why, to be sure I do. When I learned that the next room was let, I
+asked to whom!"
+
+"Yes, when people meet us together, no doubt, as you say, they will
+remark: 'What a lucky fellow that Rudolph is!' and will envy me."
+
+"So much the better."
+
+"They will think me perfectly happy."
+
+"Of course they will; and so much the better!"
+
+"And if I should not be so happy as I seem?"
+
+"What does that matter, provided they believe it; men require nothing
+further than mere outward show."
+
+"But your reputation?"
+
+Miss Dimpleton burst into an immoderate fit of laughter.
+
+"The reputation of a grisette! Would any one believe in such a
+phenomenon?" answered she. "If I had father or mother, brother or
+sister, for them I should be careful of what people would say: but I
+am alone in the world, and it's my own look out. As long as I am
+satisfied with myself, I don't care a snap for others!"
+
+"But still I should be very uncomfortable."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"In being thought happy in having you for a companion, while, on the
+contrary, I love you. It would be something like taking dinner with
+Papa Cretu--eating dry bread, whilst a cookery book was being read to
+me."
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense! You will be very happy to live after my fashion.
+I shall prove so mild, grateful, and unwearying, that you will say:
+'After all, it is as well to pass my Sunday, with her as with any one
+else.' If you should be disengaged in the evenings, during the week,
+and it would not annoy you, you might pass them in my room, and have
+the advantage of my fire and lamp, you could hire romances, and read
+them aloud to me. Better than go and lose your money at billiards.
+Otherwise, if you were kept late at your business, or you liked better
+to go to the _cafe_, you could wish me good-night on your return,
+if I were still up. But should I be in bed, at an early hour next day
+I would say good-morning, by tapping at the wall to waken you. M.
+Germain, my last neighbor, spent all his evenings in that manner with
+me, and did not complain; he read all Walter Scott's works to me,
+which were very interesting. Sometimes on Sunday, when the weather was
+bad, instead of leaving home, he bought something nice, and we made a
+downright banquet in my room; after which we amused ourselves with
+reading, and I was almost as much pleased as if I had been at the
+theater. This is to show you that it would not be difficult to live
+with me, and that I will do what I can to make things pleasant and
+agreeable. And then, you, who talk of illness, if ever you should be
+laid up, I'll be a real Sister of Charity; only ask the Morels what
+sort of a nurse I am! So, you see, you are not aware of all your
+happiness; it is as good as a lucky hit in the lottery to have me for
+a neighbor."
+
+"That is true, I have always been lucky; but, speaking of M. Germain,
+where is he now?"
+
+"In Paris, I believe."
+
+"Then you never see him now?"
+
+"Since he left this house, he has not been to see me."
+
+"But where does he live, and what is he doing?"
+
+"Why do you ask those questions, neighbor?"
+
+"Because I feel jealous of him," said Rudolph, smiling, "and I would--"
+
+"Jealous!" exclaimed Miss Dimpleton, laughing. "There is no reason for
+that, poor fellow!"
+
+"Seriously, then, I have the greatest interest in knowing the address
+of M. Germain; you know where he lives, and I may, without boasting,
+add, that I am incapable of abusing the secret I ask of you; it will
+be for his interest also." "Seriously, neighbor, I believe you wish
+every good to M. Germain, but he made me promise not to give his
+address to any one; therefore, be assured, that as I do not give it to
+you, it is because I cannot. You ought not to be angry with me; if you
+had intrusted a secret to me, you would be pleased to find I acted as
+I am now doing."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Stop, neighbor! Once for all, do not speak to me any more on that
+subject; I have made a promise, I intend to keep it, and, whatever you
+may say to me, I shall still answer you in the same way."
+
+In spite of her giddiness and frivolity, the girl pronounced these
+last words so decisively, that Rudolph felt, to his great regret, that
+he would never obtain from her the desired information about Germain;
+and he felt a repugnance to employ artifice in surprising her
+confidence. He paused a moment, and then resumed: "Do not let us speak
+of it again, neighbor. Upon my soul, you keep so well the secrets of
+others, that I am no longer surprised at your keeping your own."
+
+"Secrets! I have secrets! I wish I had some; it must be so very
+amusing."
+
+"Do you mean to say that you have not a little secret of the heart?"
+
+"A secret of the heart!"
+
+"In a word, have you never loved?" said Rudolph, looking steadfastly
+at Miss Dimpleton, to read the truth in her tell-tale face.
+
+"Loved!--have I not loved M. Giraudeau, M. Cabrion, M. Germain, and
+you?"
+
+"And did you love them the same as you love me--neither more nor
+less?"
+
+"Oh, I cannot tell you that, exactly--less, perhaps; for I had to
+habituate myself to the squint of M. Giraudeau, to the red beard and
+disagreeable jests of M. Cabrion, and the melancholy of M. Germain,
+for he was so very sad, poor young man: while you, on the contrary,
+pleased me instantly."
+
+"You will not feel angry, neighbor, if I speak to you as a friend?"
+
+"Oh, no, don't be afraid--I am very good-natured; and then you are so
+kind, that I am sure you have not the heart to say anything that would
+cause me pain."
+
+"Certainly not; but now, frankly, have you never had--a lover?"
+
+"Lovers! Now, is that very likely? Have I time for that?"
+
+"But what has time to do with it?"
+
+"Everything. First of all, I should be as jealous as a tiger, and I
+should be constantly worrying myself with one idea or the other. Then,
+again, do I earn money enough to enable me to lose two or three hours
+a day in grief and tears?--and if he deceived me, what weeping, what
+sorrow! All that would throw me pretty well behindhand, you may
+guess."
+
+"But all lovers are not unfaithful, and do not cause their mistresses
+to weep."
+
+"That would be still worse. If he were very good and loving, could I
+live a moment away from him? And then, as most likely he would be
+obliged to stay all day, either at the desk, manufactory, or shop, I
+should be like a poor restless spirit during his absence. I should
+invent a thousand chimeras; imagine that others loved him, and that he
+was with them. Heaven only knows what I might be tempted to do in my
+despair! Certain it is, that my work would be neglected, and what
+would become of me then? I can manage, quiet as I am, to live by
+working twelve or fourteen hours a day; but, were I to lose two or
+three days in the week by tormenting myself, how could I make up the
+lost time? Impossible! I must then take a situation. Oh, no, I love my
+liberty too well."
+
+"Your liberty?"
+
+"Yes; I could enter as forewoman to the person who now employs me; I
+should receive four hundred francs a year, with board and lodging."
+
+"And you will not accept that?"
+
+"No, indeed. I should be dependent on others; instead of which,
+however humble my home may be, it is my own. I owe no one anything; I
+have courage, health and gayety: with an agreeable neighbor like
+yourself, what do I want more?"
+
+"Then you have never thought of marrying?"
+
+"I marry! I could only expect to meet with a husband as poor as
+myself; and look at the unhappy Morels--see where it ends! When you
+have but yourself to look to, you can always manage somehow."
+
+"Then you never build castles in the air--never dream?"
+
+"Yes, I dream of my chimney-ornaments; besides them what can I
+desire?"
+
+"But suppose, now, some relation, of whom you have never heard, should
+die and leave you a fortune--say twelve hundred francs a year--to you,
+who live upon five hundred francs----"
+
+"It might prove a good thing--perhaps an evil."
+
+"An evil?"
+
+"I am very happy as I am; I can enjoy the life I now lead, but I do
+not know how I should pass my time if I were rich. After a hard day's
+work, I go to bed, my lamp extinguished, and, by a few light embers
+that remain in my stove, I see my room neat--curtains, drawers,
+chairs, birds, watch, and my table spread with goods intrusted to me--
+and then I say to myself, `All this I owe to myself.' Truly, neighbor,
+these thoughts cradle me softly, and sometimes I go to sleep with
+pride, always with content. But here we are at the Temple! You must
+confess, now, that it is a very superb show!"
+
+Although Rudolph did not participate in the deep veneration expressed
+by Miss Dimpleton at the sight of the Temple, he was nevertheless
+struck by the singular appearance of this enormous bazaar, with its
+numerous divisions and passages. Toward the middle of the Rue du
+Temple, not far from a fountain which was placed in the angle of a
+large square, might be seen an immense parallelogram built of timber,
+surmounted with a slated roof. That building is the Temple. Bounded on
+the left by the Rue du Petit Thouars, on the right by the Rue Percee,
+it finished in a vast rotunda, surrounded with a gallery, forming a
+sort of arcade. A long opening, intersecting this parallelogram in its
+length, divided it in two equal parts; these were in their turn
+divided and subdivided by little lateral and transverse courts,
+sheltered from the rain by the roof of the edifice. In this bazaar new
+merchandise is generally prohibited; but the smallest rag of any
+stuff, the smallest piece of iron, brass, or steel, there found its
+buyer or seller.
+
+There you saw dealers in scraps of cloth of all colors, ages, shades,
+qualities, and fashion, to assimilate either with worn-out or ill-fitting
+garments. Some of the shops presented mountains of old shoes,
+some trodden down at heel, others twisted, torn, split, and in holes,
+presenting a mass of nameless, formless, colorless objects, among
+which were grimly visible some species of _fossil_ soles, about
+an inch thick, studded with thick nails, like a prison door, and hard
+as a horseshoe, the actual skeletons of shoes whose other component
+parts had long since been devoured by Time. Yet all this moldy, rusty,
+dried-up accumulation of decaying rubbish found a willing purchaser,
+an extensive body of _merchants_ trading in this particular line.
+
+There existed retailers of trimming, fringes, cords, ravelings of
+silk, cotton, or thread, during the destruction of curtains, etc.,
+rendered unfit for use. Other industrious persons occupied themselves
+in the business of women's bonnets; these bonnets never came to their
+shop but in the bags of the retailer, after the most singular changes,
+the most extraordinary transformations, the most unheard-of
+discolorations. To prevent the merchandise taking up too much room in
+a shop usually of the size of a large box, they folded these bonnets
+in two, after which they smoothed them and pressed them down
+excessively tight--saving the salt, it is positively the same process
+as is used in the preservation of herrings: thus you may imagine how
+much, thanks to this method of stowage, may be contained in a space of
+four square feet.
+
+When the purchaser presents himself, they withdraw these bags from the
+pressure to which they are subject; the merchant, with a careless air,
+gives a slight push with his fist to the bottom of the crown, to raise
+it up, smooths the front upon his knee, and presents to your eyes an
+object at once whimsically fantastical, which recalls confusedly to
+your memory those fabulous head-dresses favored by box-keepers, aunts
+of opera dancers, or duennas of provincial theaters. Further on, at
+the sign of the _Gout du jour_, under the arcades of the Rotunda,
+elevated at the end of the wide opening which separates the Temple in
+two parts, were hanging, like _exotics_, numerous clothes, in
+color, shape, and make still more extravagant than those of the
+bonnets just described. Here were seen frock-coats, flashily set off
+by three rows of hussar-jacket buttons, and warmly ornamented with a
+little fur collar of fox's skin. Great-coats, formerly of bottle-green,
+rendered by time _invisible_, edged with a black cord, and
+brightened by a lining of plaid, blue and yellow, which had a most
+laughable effect. Coats, formerly styled the "swallow-tails," of a
+reddish-brown, with a handsome collar of plush, ornamented with
+buttons, once gilt, but now of a copper color. There were also to be
+seen Polish cloaks, with collars of cat-skin, frogged, and faced with
+old black cotton-velvet; not far from these were dressing-gowns,
+cunningly made of watchmen's old great-coats, from which were taken
+the many capes, and lined with pieces of printed cotton; the better
+sort were of dead blue and dark green, patched up with sundry pieces
+of variegated colors, and fastened round the waist with an old woolen
+bell-rope serving for a girdle, making a finish to these elegant
+_deshabilles_, so exultingly worn by Robert Macaire.
+
+We shall briefly pass over a variety of "loud" costumes, more or less
+uncouth, in the midst of which might here and there be seen some
+authentic relics of royalty or greatness, dragged by the revolution of
+time from palaces and noble halls, to figure on the dingy shelves of
+the Rotunda.
+
+These exhibitions of old shoes, old hats, and ridiculous old dresses,
+were on the grotesque side of the bazaar--the quarter for beggars,
+ostentatiously decked out and disguised; but it must be allowed, or
+rather distinctly asserted, that this vast establishment was of
+immense use to the humble classes, or those of limited means. There
+they might purchase, at an amazing reduction in price, excellent
+things, almost new, the actual depreciation in value being almost
+imaginary. On one side of the Temple, set apart for bedding, there
+were heaps of coverlets, sheets, mattresses, and pillows. Further on
+were carpets, curtains, and all sorts of kitchen utensils, besides
+clothes, shoes, and head-dresses for all classes and ages. These
+objects, generally of perfect cleanliness, offered nothing repugnant
+to the sight.
+
+One could scarcely believe, before visiting the bazaar, how little
+time and money were requisite to fill a cart with all that is
+necessary to the complete fitting out of two or three families who
+wanted everything.
+
+Rudolph was struck by the manner, at once eager, obliging, and merry,
+with which the various dealers, standing outside their shops,
+solicited the custom of the passers-by; these manners, stamped with a
+sort of respectful familiarity, seemed to belong to another age.
+Scarcely had Miss Dimpleton and her companion appeared in the long
+passage occupied by those who sold bedding, than they were surrounded
+by the most seductive offers.
+
+"Sir, come in and see my mattresses; they are better than new! I will
+unsew a corner, that you may examine the stuffing; you will think it
+lambs'-wool, it is so white and soft!"
+
+"My pretty little lady, I have sheets of fine holland, finer than at
+first, for their stiffness has been taken out of them; they are as
+soft as a glove, strong as steel!"
+
+"Come, my elegant new-married couple, buy of me a counterpane. See how
+soft, warm, and light they are--you would imagine them of eider-down;
+nearly new--have not been used twenty times. Look, my little lady;
+decide for your husband; give me your custom--I will furnish very
+cheaply for you--you will be satisfied--you will come again to Mother
+Bouvard. You will find all you want in my shop; yesterday I made
+beautiful purchases--you shall see them all. Come in, anyhow; it will
+not cost anything to look."
+
+"By my faith, neighbor," said Rudolph to Miss Dimpleton, "this good
+fat woman shall have the preference. She takes us for young married
+people; the supposition flatters me, and I decide for her shop."
+
+"To the good fat woman's, then," answered Miss Dimpleton; "her face
+pleases me too."
+
+The grisette and her companion then entered Mother Bouvard's shop. By
+a magnanimity perhaps unexampled anywhere but at the Temple, the
+rivals of Mother Bouvard did not rebel at the preference accorded her;
+one of the neighbors, indeed, had the generosity to say, "So long as
+it is Mother Bouvard, and no other, who has this customer, it is very
+well: she has a family, and is the oldest inhabitant of the Temple,
+and an honor to it." It was, besides, impossible to have a face more
+prepossessing, open, and joyous than hers.
+
+"Here, my pretty little lady," said she to Miss Dimpleton, who
+examined everything with the manner of one capable of judging, "this
+is the purchase of which I spoke; two beds, completely fitted up, and
+as good as new. If by chance you want a little old secretary, and not
+dear, there is one," and she pointed to it, "that I had in the same
+lot. Although I do not generally buy furniture, I could not refuse to
+take it, as the person of whom I had all this seemed so unhappy. Poor
+lady! it was the parting with that, above all, that appeared to rend
+her heart; an old piece of furniture very long with the family."
+
+At these words, while the shopkeeper and Miss Dimpleton were debating
+the prices of different articles, Rudolph looked more attentively at
+the piece of furniture which Mother Bouvard had pointed out. It was
+one of those old secretaries of rosewood, in shape nearly triangular,
+shut in by a panel in front, which, thrown back, and supported by two
+long brass hinges, could be used as a writing-desk. In the middle of
+the panel, inlaid with different-colored wood, Rudolph noticed a
+cipher in ebony, an M. and R. interlaced, and surmounted by the
+coronet of a count. He imagined its last possessor to belong to an
+elevated class of society. His curiosity increased; he examined the
+secretary with renewed attention; he opened mechanically the drawers,
+one after the other, when, finding some difficulty in opening the
+last, and seeking the cause, he discovered and drew out carefully a
+sheet of paper, partly entangled between the drawer and the bottom of
+the secretary. While Miss Dimpleton was finishing her purchases with
+Mother Bouvard, Rudolph narrowly scrutinized the paper; from the many
+erasures it was easily to be seen that it was an unfinished draught of
+a letter. Rudolph, with difficulty, read as follows:
+
+"Sir,--Be assured that misfortunes the most frightful could alone
+compel me to address you. It is not from ill-placed pride I feel these
+scruples, but the absolute want of any claim to the service I venture
+to ask of you. The sight of my daughter, reduced, like myself, to the
+most painful privation, urges me to the task. A few words will explain
+the cause of the misfortunes which overwhelm me. After the death of my
+husband, there remained to me a fortune of three hundred thousand
+francs, placed by my brother with M. Jacques Ferrand, notary. I
+received at Angers, where I had retired with my daughter, the interest
+of this sum in remittances from my brother. You remember, sir, the
+frightful event that put an end to his existence: ruined, as it
+appeared, by secret and unfortunate speculations, he destroyed himself
+eight months since. Before this melancholy event, I received from him
+a few lines, written in despair, in which he said, when I read them he
+should have ceased to exist; he finished by informing me that he
+possessed no document relative to the sum placed in my name with M.
+Jacques Ferrand, as that individual never gave a receipt, but was
+honor and goodness itself, and it would only be necessary for me to
+call on him for the affairs to be satisfactorily arranged. As soon as
+I could possibly turn my attention to anything but the fearful death
+of my brother, I came to Paris, where I knew no one but yourself, sir,
+and that indirectly, by business you had had with my husband. I told
+you that the sum placed with M. Jacques Ferrand comprised the whole of
+my fortune, and that my brother sent me, every six months, the
+interest derived from that sum. More than a year having passed since
+the last payment, I consequently called on the notary, to demand that
+of which I stood greatly in want. Scarcely had I made myself known,
+than, without respecting my grief, he accused my brother of having
+borrowed from him two thousand francs, which he had entirely lost by
+his death; adding, that not only was his suicide a crime toward God
+and man, but that it was still further an act of dishonesty, of which
+he was the victim. This odious speech made me indignant. The upright
+conduct of my brother was well known; he had, it is true, without the
+knowledge of myself or his friends, lost his fortune in hazardous
+speculations, but he died with his reputation unsullied, regretted by
+every one, and leaving no debts, save that to his notary. I replied to
+M. Ferrand that I authorized him to take instantly, from the sum he
+had in his charge of mine, the two thousand francs my brother was
+indebted to him. At these words he looked at me in stupefied manner,
+and asked me of what money I spoke. 'The three hundred thousand francs
+that my brother placed in your hands eighteen months since, sir; the
+interest of which you have remitted, through him,' said I not
+comprehending his question. The notary shrugged his shoulders, smiled
+in pity, as though my assertion was not true, and answered me that, so
+far from having placed money with him, he had borrowed two thousand
+francs.
+
+"It is impossible to explain to you my terror at this answer. 'But
+what, then, has become of this sum?' asked I. 'My daughter and myself
+have no other resource; if it be taken from us, there remains but the
+greatest misery. What will become of us?' 'I know nothing about it,'
+said the notary coolly: 'it is most likely that your brother, instead
+of placing this sum with me, as he told you, made use of it in those
+unfortunate speculations to which he gave himself up, without the
+knowledge of any one.' 'It is false, sir!' I exclaimed; 'my brother
+was honor's self. Far from despoiling myself and child, he sacrificed
+himself to us. He would never marry, that he might leave all he
+possessed to my child.' 'Dare you assume, then, madame, that I am
+capable of denying a trust reposed in me?' asked the notary, with an
+indignation so apparently honorable and sincere, that I replied, 'No,
+sir; without doubt your reputation for probity is well known; but,
+notwithstanding, I cannot accuse my brother of so cruel an abuse of
+confidence.' 'Upon what deeds do you found this demand on me?' asked
+M. Ferrand. 'None, sir; eighteen months since, my brother, who took
+upon himself the management of my affairs, wrote to me, saying, 'I
+have an excellent opportunity of realizing six per cent.; send me your
+warrant of attorney; I will deposit three hundred thousand francs,
+which I have concluded about, with M. Ferrand, the notary.' I sent the
+power of attorney; and, a few days after, he informed me that he had
+effected the deposit with you, and at the end of six months he sent me
+the interest of that sum. 'At least you have some letters from him on
+the subject, madame?' 'No, sir; as they related only to business, I
+did not preserve them.' 'I, unhappily, madame, know nothing of all
+this,' replied the notary; 'if my character was not above all
+suspicion, all attack, I should say to you, 'The law is open to you--
+proceed against me; the judges will have to choose between an
+honorable man, who for thirty years has enjoyed the esteem of persons
+of consideration, and the posthumous declaration of a man who, after
+ruining himself in the most hazardous speculations, found refuge only
+in suicide.' In short, I say to you now, attack me, madame, if you
+dare, and the memory of your brother will be dishonored! But I should
+think that you will nave the good sense to be resigned to a
+misfortune, doubtless very great, but to which I am a stranger.' 'But,
+sir, I am a mother; if my fortune is lost to me, my daughter and
+myself have only the resource of some little furniture; that sold,
+there remains but misery, sir, appalling misery!' 'You have,
+unfortunately, been cheated; I can do nothing,' replied the notary.
+'Again I tell you, madame, your brother deceived you. If you hesitate
+between my word and his, proceed against me; the law is open to you--I
+abide by its decision.' I left the office of the notary in the deepest
+despair. What remained for me to do in this extremity. Without any
+document to prove the validity of my claim, convinced of the strict
+honesty of my brother, confounded by the assurance of M. Ferrand,
+having no one from whom I could ask advice (you were then traveling),
+knowing that money was necessary to have the opinion of counsel, and
+wishing carefully to preserve the little which was left to me, I dared
+not undertake the commencement of a lawsuit. It was then--"
+
+This copy of a letter ended here, for strokes not decipherable,
+covered some lines which followed: at last, at the bottom, in a corner
+of the page, Rudolph read the following memorandum: "_Write to the
+Duchess de Lucenay, for M. de Saint-Remy_."
+
+Rudolph remained thoughtful after the perusal of this fragment of a
+letter, in which he had found two names whose connection struck him.
+Although the additional infamy with which M. Ferrand appeared to be
+accused was not proved, this man had shown himself so pitiless towards
+the unfortunate Morel, so infamous to Louise, his daughter, that a
+denial of the deposit, protected as he was from certain discovery, did
+not appear strange, coming from such a wretch. This mother, who
+claimed a fortune which had so strangely disappeared, no doubt
+accustomed to the comforts of life, was ruined by a blow so sudden:
+knowing no one at Paris, as the letter said, what could now be the
+existence of these two females, deprived of everything, alone in the
+heart of this immense city?
+
+The prince had, as we know, promised to Lady d'Harville _some
+intrigues_, which he hazarded for the purpose of occupying her
+mind, and a part to perform in some future work of charity, feeling
+certain of finding, before his again meeting the lady, some grief to
+assuage: he trusted that perhaps chance might throw in his path some
+worthy, unfortunate person, who could, agreeably to his project,
+interest the heart and imagination of Lady d'Harville. The wording of
+the letter that he held in his hands, a copy of which, without doubt,
+had never been sent to the person from whom assistance was implored,
+showed a character proud and resigned, to whom the offer of charity
+would be no doubt repugnant. In that case, what precautions and
+delicate deceptions would be necessary to hide the source of a
+generous succor, or to make it acceptable! And then, what address to
+gain introduction to this lady, so that you might judge if she really
+merited the interest it seemed she ought to inspire! Rudolph foresaw a
+crowd of emotions, new, curious, and touching, which ought singularly
+to amuse Lady d'Harville, as he had promised her.
+
+"Well, _husband_," said Miss Dimpleton, gayly, "what is that
+scrap of paper you are reading?"
+
+"My little _wife_," answered Rudolph, "you are very curious. I
+will tell you presently. Have you concluded your purchases?"
+
+"Certainly, and your poor friends will be established like kings.
+There remains only to pay. Mother Bouvard is very accommodating, it
+must be allowed."
+
+"My little _wife_, an idea has just struck me; while I am paying,
+will you go and choose clothing for Mrs. Morel and her children; I
+confess my ignorance on the subject of such purchases. You can tell
+them to bring the things here, as there need be but one journey, and
+the poor people will have all at the same time."
+
+"You are always right, _husband_. Wait for me, I shall not be
+long; I know two shopkeepers with whom I always deal, and I shall find
+there all that I want." Miss Dimpleton went out, saying, "Mother
+Bouvard, I trust my _husband_ to you; do not make love to him."
+And, laughing, she hastily disappeared.
+
+"Indeed, sir," said Mother Bouvard to Rudolph, after the departure of
+Miss Dimpleton, "you must allow that you possess a famous little
+manager. She understands well how to buy. So pretty! Red and white,
+with beautiful large black eyes, and hair to match!"
+
+"Is she not charming? Am I not a happy husband, Mother Bouvard?"
+
+"As happy a husband as she is a wife, I am quite sure."
+
+"You are not mistaken there; but tell me, how much do I owe you?"
+
+"Your little lady would not go beyond three hundred and thirty francs
+for all. As there is a heaven above, I only clear fifteen francs, for
+I did not buy them so cheaply as I might; I had not the heart to beat
+them down, the people who sold them appeared so very unhappy!"
+
+"Indeed! were they not the same persons of whom you bought the little
+secretary?"
+
+"Yes, sir; and its break my heart only to think of it. There came here
+the day before yesterday, a lady, still young and beautiful, but so
+pale and thin, that it gave you pain to see her. Although she was neat
+and clean, her old threadbare, black worsted shawl, her black stuff
+gown, also much worn and frayed, her straw bonnet in the month of
+January, for she was in mourning, proclaimed what is termed a
+_shabby genteel_ appearance, but I am sure she was of real
+quality. At length she inquired, with a blush, if I would purchase two
+beds complete, and an old secretary. I replied, that as I sold I must
+buy, and that, if they suited me, I would have them. She then begged
+me to go with her, not far from here, on the other side of the street,
+to a house on the quay of the Canal Saint Martin. I left my shop in
+charge of my niece, and followed the lady. We came to a shabby-looking
+house, quite at the bottom of a court; we went up to the fourth story,
+the lady knocked, and a young girl of fourteen opened the door; she
+was also in mourning, and equally pale and thin, but in spite of this,
+beautiful as the day--so beautiful, that I was enraptured!"
+
+"Well, and this young girl?"
+
+"Was the daughter of the lady in mourning. Although so cold she had on
+nothing more than a black cotton dress with white spots, and a little
+black shawl quite worn out."
+
+"And their lodging was wretched?"
+
+"Imagine, sir, two little rooms, very clean, but almost empty, and so
+cold that I was nearly frozen; a fireplace where you could not
+perceive the least appearance of ashes; there had not been a fire for
+a long time. The whole of the furniture consisted of two beds, two
+chairs, a chest of drawers, an old trunk, and the little secretary.
+Upon the trunk was a bundle in a handkerchief. This bundle was all
+that remained to the mother and daughter, when once their furniture
+was sold. The landlord selected the two bedsteads, the chairs, trunk,
+and table, for what they were indebted to him, as the porter said who
+came up with us. When the lady begged me to put a fair value on the
+mattress, sheets, curtains, and blankets, on the faith of an honest
+woman, sir, although I live by buying cheap and selling dear, when I
+saw the poor young lady, her eyes filled with tears, and her mother,
+in spite of her calmness, appearing to weep inwardly, I estimated them
+within fifteen francs of their value to sell again, I assure you; I
+even consented, to oblige them, to take the little secretary, although
+it is not in my line of business."
+
+"I will buy it of you, Mother Bouvard."
+
+"Will you though? So much the better, sir; it would have remained on
+my hands a long time, and I only took it to serve the lady. I then
+told her what I would give for the things, and I expected she would
+ask me more than I had offered; but no, she said not a word about it.
+This still more satisfied me that she was no common person; _genteel
+poverty_, sir, be assured. I said, 'So much,' she answered, 'Thank
+you! now let us return to your shop, and you can then pay me, as I
+shall not come back again to this house.' Then, speaking to her
+daughter, who was sitting on the trunk, crying, she said, 'Claire,
+take the bundle.' I remember the name well. The young lady rose up,
+but in passing by the side of the little secretary, she threw herself
+on her knees before it, and began to sob. 'Courage, my child, they are
+looking at us,' said her mother, in a low tone, but yet I heard her.
+You can understand, sir, they are poor but proud people. When the lady
+gave me the key of the little secretary, I noticed a tear in her eyes,
+her heart seemed breaking at parting with the old piece of furniture;
+but she still tried to preserve her calmness and dignity before
+strangers. She then gave the porter to understand that I was to take
+away all the landlord did not keep, and afterward we returned here.
+The young lady gave her arm to her mother, and carried in her hand the
+little bundle which contained their all. I paid them three hundred and
+fifteen francs, and have not since seen them."
+
+"But their name?"
+
+"I do not know: the lady sold me the things in the presence of the
+porter; I had not the necessity to ask her name, as what she sold
+belonged to herself."
+
+"But their new abode?"
+
+"That, also, I do not know."
+
+"Perhaps they can inform me at their old lodging?"
+
+"No, sir; for when I returned to fetch away the things, the porter
+said, speaking of the mother and daughter; 'They are very quiet
+people, but very unhappy; some misfortunes have happened to them. They
+always appeared calm; but I am sure they were in a state of despair.'
+'And where are they going to lodge at this late hour?' I asked him.
+'In truth, I know nothing,' answered he; 'it is, however, quite
+certain they will not return here.'"
+
+The hopes that Rudolph had entertained for a moment vanished. How
+could he discover these two unhappy females, having only as a clew the
+name of the young girl, Claire, and the fragment of a letter, of which
+we have spoken, at the bottom of which were the words: "_Write to
+Madame de Lucenay, for M. de Saint-Remy_."
+
+The only chance, and that was a very faint one, of tracing these
+unfortunates, rested in Madame de Lucenay, who, fortunately, was on
+intimate terms with Lady d'Harville.
+
+"Here, madame, pay yourself," said Rudolph to the shopkeeper, giving
+her a note for five hundred francs.
+
+"I will give you the difference, sir."
+
+"Where can I engage a cart to carry the things?"
+
+"If it be not very far, a large truck will be sufficient; Father
+Jerome has one, quite close by; I always employ him. What is your
+address?"
+
+"No. 17, Rue du Temple."
+
+"Rue du Temple, No. 17. Yes, yes, I know the house."
+
+"You have been there?"
+
+"Many times. First, I bought some clothes of a pawnbroker who lived
+there. It is true, she did not carry on a large business, but that was
+no affair of mine: she sold, I bought, and we were quits. Another
+time, not six months ago, I went again for the furniture of a young
+man who lived on the fourth story, and who was going to remove."
+
+"M. Francois Germain, perhaps," said Rudolph.
+
+"The same. Do you know him?"
+
+"Very well. Unhappily, he has not left in the Rue du Temple his
+present address, and I do not know where to find him."
+
+"If that be all, I can remove the difficulty."
+
+"You know where he lives?"
+
+"Not exactly; but I know where you will be sure to meet with him."
+
+"Where is that?"--
+
+"At a notary's, where he is employed."
+
+"At a notary's?"
+
+"Yes; who lives in the Rue du Sentier."
+
+"M. Jacques Ferrand!" exclaimed Rudolph.
+
+"The same; a worthy man; he has a crucifix and a bit of the true cross
+in his office, which reminds one of a sacristy."
+
+"But how do you know that M. Germain is with the notary?"
+
+"Why, in this way. The young man came to me, and proposed that I
+should buy all his furniture; although not in my way of business, I
+agreed, and afterward retailed them here; for, as it suited the young
+man, I did not like to refuse. Well, then, I bought him clean out, and
+gave him a good price; he was, doubtless, satisfied with me, for at
+the end of a fortnight he came to buy a bedstead and bedding. He
+brought with him a truck and a porter; they packed up all; but just as
+he was about to pay he found he had forgotten his purse. He appeared
+such an honest young man, that I said to him: 'Take the things with
+you, all the same; I will call for the money.''Very well,' he said;
+'but I am seldom at home; call, therefore, tomorrow, in the Rue du
+Sentier, at M. Jacques Ferrand's the notary, where I am employed, and
+I will then pay you.' I went the next day, and he paid me. Only, what
+I thought so odd, was, his selling me all his goods, and buying others
+in a fortnight after."
+
+Rudolph thought he could account for the cause of this singularity.
+Germain, wishing that the wretches who pursued him should lose all
+traces, of him, had sold his goods, thinking that if he removed them
+it might give a clew to his new abode, and had preferred, to avoid
+this evil, purchasing others, and taking them himself to his lodgings.
+Rudolph started with joy when he thought of the happiness for Mrs.
+George, who was at last about to see this son, so long and vainly
+sought.
+
+Miss Dimpleton now returned with joyful eyes and smiling lips.
+
+"Well, did I not tell you?" she exclaimed. "I was not wrong: we have
+spent, in all, six hundred and forty francs, and the Morels will be
+housed like princes. See! the shopkeepers are coming: are they not
+loaded? Nothing is wanted for the use of the family--even to a
+gridiron, two beautiful saucepans newly tinned, and a coffee-pot. I
+said to myself, since everything is to be had, it shall be so; and,
+besides all that, I have spent three hours. But make haste and pay,
+neighbor, and let us go. It is almost noon, and my needle must go at a
+pretty rate to overtake this morning!"
+
+Rudolph paid, and left the Temple with Miss Dimpleton. As the grisette
+and her companion entered the passage of the house, they were almost
+thrown down by Mrs. Pipelet, who was running out, troubled,
+frightened, aghast.
+
+"Gracious heaven!" said Miss Dimpleton, "what is the matter with you,
+Mrs. Pipelet? Where are you running to in that manner?"
+
+"Is that you, Miss Dimpleton?" exclaimed Anastasia.
+
+"Providence has sent you. Help me! save the life of Alfred!"
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"That poor old darling has fainted! Have pity upon us! run and fetch
+two sous worth of absinthe--very strong; that is the remedy when he is
+indisposed in the pylorus. Be kind; do not refuse me, and I can return
+to Alfred. I am quite confused!"
+
+Miss Dimpleton left Rudolph's arm, and ran off to the dram-shop.
+
+"But what has happened, Mrs. Pipelet?" asked Rudolph, following the
+portress, who returned to the lodge.
+
+"How should I know, my worthy sir? I left home to go to the mayor's,
+the church, and the cook-shop, to prevent Alfred from tiring himself.
+I returned; what did I see? the dear old man with his legs and arms
+all in the air! Look, M. Rudolph!" said Anastasia, opening the door of
+the room, "is not that a sight to break one's heart?"
+
+Lamentable spectacle! With his enormous hat still on his head, even
+further on than usual, for the questionable _castor,_ pushed
+down, no doubt, by violence, if we may judge by a transverse gap,
+covered Pipelet's eyes, who was on his back on the floor, at the foot
+of his bed.
+
+The fainting was over, and Alfred was beginning to make some slight
+movements with his hands, as though he wished to repulse some one or
+some thing; and then he tried to remove his troublesome visor.
+
+"He kicks! that is a good sign; he recovers!" cried the portress--and
+stooping down, she bawled in his ears: "What is the matter with my
+Alfred? It is his 'Stasie who is here. How are you now? They are
+coming to bring you some absinthe; that will put you to rights." Then,
+assuming a caressing tone of voice, she added: "Have they abused you,
+killed you, my dear old darling--eh?"
+
+Alfred sighed deeply, and with a groan uttered a fatal word:
+"_Cabrion!_" His trembling hands seemed as though desirous of
+repulsing a frightful vision.
+
+"Cabrion! that devil of a painter again!" exclaimed Mrs. Pipelet.
+"Alfred all night dreamed so much about him, that he kicked me
+dreadfully. That monster is his nightmare! Not only has he poisoned
+his days, but his nights also; he persecutes him even in his sleep--
+yes, sir, as though Alfred was a malefactor, and this Cabrion, whom
+may the devil confound! is his remorseless enemy."
+
+Rudolph smiled, as he foresaw some new trick on the part of Miss
+Dimpleton's former neighbor.
+
+"Alfred, answer me; do not remain dumb--you alarm me," said Mrs.
+Pipelet; "let us get you up. Why will you think on that beggarly
+fellow? You know that, when you think of him, it has the same effect
+on you as when you eat cabbage--it fills up your gizzard, and stifles
+you!"
+
+"Cabrion!" repeated Pipelet, lifting with difficulty his hat from his
+eyes, which he rolled about with a frightened air.
+
+Miss Dimpleton entered, carrying a small bottle of absinthe.
+
+"Thank you, mademoiselle; you are very kind," said the old woman. Then
+she added: "Here, darling, pop it down; it will bring you to
+yourself."
+
+And Anastasia, presenting the vial quickly to Pipelet's lips, insisted
+on his swallowing the contents. Alfred in vain struggled courageously:
+his wife, profiting by the weakness of her victim, held his head with
+a firm grasp in one hand, and with the other introduced the neck of
+the vial between his teeth, and forced him to drink the absinthe;
+after which she cried triumphantly: "Well done! you are again on your
+pins, my cherished one!"
+
+Alfred, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, opened his
+eyes, stood up, and asked in a trembling voice: "Have you seen him?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Is he gone?"
+
+"Alfred, whom do you mean?"
+
+"Cabrion!"
+
+"Has he dared--" cried the portress.
+
+Pipelet, as dumb as the statue of the Commander in _Don
+Giovanni,_ bowed his head twice in the affirmative.
+
+"M. Cabrion, has he been here?" asked Miss Dimpleton, restraining with
+difficulty an inclination to laugh.
+
+"That monster! has he been let loose upon Alfred?" cried Mrs. Pipelet.
+"Oh, if I had been here with my broom, he should have eaten it up, to
+the very handle! But speak, Alfred; relate to us this horrible
+affair."
+
+Pipelet made a sign with his hand that he was about to speak, and they
+listened to the man of the immense hat in religious silence. Pie
+expressed himself in these terms, with a voice deeply agitated: "My
+wife had just left me to complete the orders given by you, sir (bowing
+to Rudolph), to call at the mayor's and the cook-shop."
+
+"The dear old man had the nightmare all night, and I wished him to
+rest," said Anastasia.
+
+"This nightmare was sent me as a warning from above," said the porter,
+solemnly. "I had dreamed of Cabrion--I was to suffer by Cabrion. Here
+was I sitting quietly before the table, thinking of an alteration that
+I wished to make in this boot confided to me, when I heard a noise, a
+rustling at the window of my lodge--was it a presentiment--a warning
+from above? My heart beat; I raised my head, and through the window I
+saw--saw--"
+
+"Cabrion!" cried Anastasia, clasping her hands.
+
+"Cabrion!" replied Pipelet, in a hollow tone. "His hideous face was
+there, close to the window, looking at me with his cat's eyes--what do
+I say? tiger's eyes! just as in my dream. I tried to speak, but my
+tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth: I would have risen--I was glued
+to my seat; the boot fell from my hands, and, as in every critical and
+important event of my life, I remained completely motionless. Then the
+key turned in the lock; the door opened, and Cabrion entered!"
+
+"He entered? what effrontery!" said Mrs. Pipelet, as much astonished
+as her husband at such audacity.
+
+"Cabrion advanced slowly, his looks fixed on me, as a serpent glares
+on the bird, like a phantom--on, on, chilling, lowering!"
+
+"I'm goose-flesh all over!" groaned Anastasia.
+
+"He came quite close to me; I could no longer endure his revolting
+aspect; it was too much, I could hold out no longer. I shut my eyes,
+and I then felt that he dared to put his hands on my hat, took it
+slowly off my head, and left it naked! I was seized with giddiness--my
+breathing was suspended--a ringing came in my ears--I was more than
+ever glued to my seat--I shut my eyes more firmly. Then Cabrion
+stooped, took my bald head between his hands, cold as death, and upon
+my forehead, bathed in sweat, imprinted a lascivious kiss!"
+
+Anastasia lifted her arms toward heaven.
+
+"My most inveterate enemy kissed my forehead! A monstrosity so
+unparalleled overcame and paralyzed me. Cabrion profited by my stupor
+to replace my hat on my head: then, with a blow on the crown, bonneted
+me as you saw. The last outrage quite overpowered me--the measure was
+full; everything about me turned round, and I fainted at the moment
+when I saw him, from under the rim of my hat, leave the room as
+quietly and slowly as he had entered."
+
+Then, as though this recital had exhausted his strength, Pipelet fell
+back on his chair, raising his hands to heaven in the attitude of mute
+imprecation. Miss Dimpleton left the room suddenly; her desire to
+laugh almost stifled her, and she could no longer restrain herself.
+Rudolph himself had with difficulty preserved his gravity.
+
+Suddenly a confused murmur, such as announces the assembling of a
+multitude, was heard in the street; a tumult arose at the end of the
+passage, and then musket-butts sounded on the door-step.
+
+"Good heaven, M. Rudolph!" cried Miss Dimpleton, running back, pale
+and trembling; "here are a commissary of police and the guard!"
+
+"Divine justice watches over me!" said Pipelet, in a burst of
+religious gratitude; "they come to arrest Cabrion! Unhappily, it is
+too late!"
+
+A commissary of police, known by a scarf worn under his black coat,
+entered the lodge. His countenance was grave, dignified, and severe.
+
+"M. le Commissaire, you are too late; the malefactor has fled!" said
+Pipelet, sadly; "but I can give you his description. Villainous smile,
+impudent manners--"
+
+"Of whom do you speak?" asked the officer.
+
+"Of Cabrion, M. le Commissaire, and if you make all haste, there may
+be yet time to get hold of him," answered Pipelet.
+
+"I do not know who this Cabrion is," said the officer, impatiently.
+"Does Jerome Morel, working lapidary, live in this house?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Pipelet, standing at the salute.
+
+"Conduct me to his apartment."'
+
+"Morel, the lapidary!" resumed the portress, quite surprised; "he is
+as gentle as a lamb, and incapable of--"
+
+"Does Jerome Morel live here or not?"
+
+"He does live here, sir, with his family, in the attic."
+
+"Show me, then, to this garret."
+
+Then, addressing a man who accompanied him, the magistrate said: "Let
+the two municipal guards wait below, and not leave the alley. Send
+Justin for a coach." The man left to execute these orders.
+
+"Now," said the magistrate, addressing Pipelet, "conduct me to Morel."
+
+"If it be all the same to you, sir, I will go instead of Alfred, who
+is indisposed from the persecution of Cabrion; who, just as cabbage
+does, troubles his gizzard."
+
+"You, or your husband, it matters little which--go on." Preceded by
+Mrs. Pipelet, he began to ascend the stairs; but he soon stopped,
+perceiving that he was followed by Rudolph and Miss Dimpleton.
+
+"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded he.
+
+"They are the two fourth-floors," said Mrs. Pipelet.
+
+"Pardon me, sir, I did not know that you belonged to the house," said
+he, to Rudolph; who, auguring well from the politeness of the
+magistrate, said, "You will find a family in great distress, sir. I do
+not know what new misfortune menaces the unhappy artisan, but he has
+been cruelly tried last night; one of his children, worn out by
+illness, is dead beneath his eyes--dead from cold and misery."
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"It is the truth," said Mrs. Pipelet. "If it had not been for the
+gentleman who now speaks to you, and who is a king of lodgers, for he
+has saved, by his goodness, poor Morel from prison, the whole family
+of the lapidary must have died from hunger."
+
+The commissary looked at Rudolph with as much interest as surprise.
+
+"Nothing is more simple, sir," said the latter. "A person who is very
+charitable, knowing that Morel, to whose worth I pledge my honor, was
+in a position as deplorable as it was unmerited, instructed me to pay
+a bill of exchange, for which the bailiffs were about to drag to
+prison this poor man, the sole support of a large family."
+
+Struck in his turn by the noble appearance of Rudolph, and the dignity
+of his manner, the magistrate replied, "I do not doubt the probity of
+Morel; I only regret being compelled to fulfill a painful duty before
+you, sir, who have shown so lively an interest in this family."
+
+"What can you mean, sir?"
+
+"After the services you have rendered the Morels, and from your
+language, I know that you are a worthy man. Having, besides, no reason
+to conceal the object of the mandate I am about to execute, I will
+acknowledge that I am about to arrest Louise Morel, the lapidary's
+daughter."
+
+The rouleau of gold that she had offered to the bailiffs came to the
+mind of Rudolph.
+
+"Of what is she accused?"
+
+"She is accused of infanticide."
+
+"She, she! Oh, her poor father!"
+
+"From what you have told me, sir, I conceive that, under the
+circumstances in which the artisan is placed, this new blow will be
+terrible for him. Unfortunately I must obey my orders."
+
+"But it is only a simple accusation!" cried Rudolph. "The proofs are
+wanting, without doubt?"
+
+"I cannot explain myself further on this subject. The authorities have
+been informed of this crime, or rather, the presumption, by the
+declarations of a man in every way respectable--the master of Louise
+Morel."
+
+"Jacques Ferrand, the notary," said Rudolph indignantly.
+
+"Yes, sir. But why this vivacity?"
+
+"M. Jacques Ferrand, the notary, is a scoundrel, sir!"
+
+"I see with pain that you do not know of whom you speak. M. Jacques
+Ferrand is the most honorable man in the world; of most exemplary
+piety, and known probity."
+
+"I repeat to you, sir, that the notary is a scoundrel. He wished to
+imprison Morel, because his daughter repulsed his infamous
+propositions. If Louise is only accused on the testimony of such a
+man--acknowledge, sir, that it merits but little belief."
+
+"It does not belong to me, sir, and it does not become me, to discuss
+the value of the testimony of M. Ferrand," said the officer coldly.
+"Justice has taken cognizance of the affair; the tribunals will
+decide. As to me, I have orders to arrest Louise Morel, and I shall do
+it."
+
+"You are right, sir. I regret that a movement of indignation, perhaps
+legitimate, has made me forget that this is neither the time nor place
+for such a discussion. One word alone: the body of the child he has
+lost is in the garret. I have offered my room to this family, to spare
+them the sad sight of the corpse; hence it is, probably, in my chamber
+you will find the artisan and his daughter. I conjure you, sir, in the
+name of humanity, do not arrest Louise suddenly in the midst of these
+misfortunes. Morel has gone through so many shocks this night, that
+his reason will give way: his wife is also dangerously sick--such a
+blow will kill her. If you will permit me, I'll ask you a favor. This
+is what I propose. The young girl who follows us with the door-keeper
+occupies a room adjoining mine; I do not doubt but that she will place
+it at your disposal. You can at first send for Louise; then, if it
+must be, for Morel, that his daughter may bid him farewell. You will
+at least spare a poor, sick, and infirm mother a heart-rending scene.
+
+"If this can be arranged so, sir, willingly."
+
+The conversation had taken place in an undertone, while Rigolette and
+Mrs. Pipelet held themselves discreetly at some distance off.
+
+Rudolph descended, and said to the former: "My poor neighbor, I must
+ask another favor; you must let me have your room at my disposal for
+an hour."
+
+"As long as you please, M. Rudolph. You have my key. But, what is the
+matter?"
+
+"I will tell you directly. This is not all: you must be kind enough to
+return to the Temple to tell them to delay sending home our purchases
+for an hour." "Willingly, M. Rudolph; but is there a new misfortune
+happened to the Morels?"
+
+"Alas! yes; you will know it only too soon."
+
+"Come, neighbor, I fly to the Temple. I, thanks to you, thought them
+out of trouble," said the grisette, descending rapidly the stairs.
+
+Rudolph wished to spare Rigolette the sad spectacle of the arrest of
+Louise. "Officer," said Mrs. Pipelet, "since my prince of lodgers
+accompanies you, I can go and find Alfred. He alarms me: he has hardly
+recovered from his attack of--Cabrion."
+
+"Go--go!" said the magistrate; who remained alone with Rudolph. Both
+arrived on the landing place of the fourth, opposite the door of the
+room where the artisan and his family were temporarily placed.
+
+Suddenly this door was opened. Louise, pale and weeping, came out
+quickly. "Adieu, adieu! father," cried she; "I will return--I must go
+now."
+
+"Louise, my child, listen to me, then," answered Morel, following his
+daughter, and trying to detain her.
+
+At the sight of Rudolph and the magistrate they remained immovable.
+
+"Ah, sir! you, our savior," said the artisan, recognizing Rudolph;
+"aid me to prevent Louise from going. I do not know what is the matter
+with her, she makes me afraid; she wishes to go away. Is it not so,
+sir, that she must not return any more to her master? Did you not say,
+'Louise shall quit you no more--this shall be your recompense'? Oh! at
+this delightful promise, I avow it, for a moment I have forgotten the
+death of my poor little Adele; but to be separated from you, Louise,
+never, never!"
+
+Rudolph felt himself overcome; be had not strength to utter a word.
+
+The officer said severely to Louise, "Are you Louise Morel?"
+
+"Yes, sir!" answered the young girl, amazed. Rudolph had opened the
+chamber of Rigolette.
+
+"You are Jerome Morel, her father?" added the magistrate addressing
+the artisan.
+
+"Yes, sir! but--"
+
+"Enter there with your daughter." And the magistrate pointed to the
+chamber of Rigolette, where Rudolph already was. Reassured by his
+presence, the artisan and Louise, astonished and troubled, obeyed; the
+officer shut the door, and said to Morel, with emotion, "I know your
+honesty and misfortunes; it is, then, with regret I inform you that,
+in the name of the law, I come to arrest your daughter."
+
+"All is discovered--I am lost!" cried Louise, throwing herself in the
+arms of her father.
+
+"What do you say? what do you say?" said Morel, stupefied. "Are you
+mad? why lost? arrest you! why arrest you? who will arrest you?"
+
+"I--in the name of the law!" and the officer showed his scarf.
+
+"Oh, unfortunate! unfortunate that I am!" cried Louise, falling on her
+knees.
+
+"How, in the name of the law?" said the artisan, whose mind began to
+wander; "why arrest my daughter in the name of the law? I answer for
+Louise, I--she is my daughter, my worthy daughter--is it not true,
+Louise? How arrest you, when our guardian angel restores you to us, to
+console us for the death of my little Adele? Come now! it cannot be!
+And besides, sir, speaking with respect, only criminals are arrested,
+do you understand--and Louise, my daughter, is not a criminal. Very
+sure, do you see, my child, this gentleman is mistaken. My name is
+Morel; there are more Morels than me. You are Louise--but there are
+more of the same name. That's it, you see, sir; there is a mistake!"
+
+"Unfortunately, there is no mistake! Louise Morel, say farewell to
+your father."
+
+"You carry away my daughter, will you?" cried the workman, furious
+from grief, and advancing toward the magistrate with a threatening
+air.
+
+Rudolph seized him by the arm, and said, "Calm yourself, and hope;
+your daughter shall be returned to you--her innocence shall be proved;
+she is doubtless not culpable."
+
+"Of what? she can be culpable of nothing. I would place my hand in the
+fire that"--then recollecting the gold that Louise had brought to pay
+the note, Morel cried, "But that money, that money, Louise?" and he
+cast on his daughter a terrible look.
+
+Louise understood it. "I steal!" cried she, and the cheeks colored
+with generous indignation. Her tone of voice, her gesture, satisfied
+her father.
+
+"I knew it!" he cried. "Do you see, sir--she denies it--and never in
+her life has she lied, I swear to you. Ask every one who knows her,
+and they will say the same. She lie? she is too proud for that.
+Besides, the bill was paid by our benefactor. She don't want gold; she
+was going to return it to the person who lent it, wasn't you, Louise?"
+
+"Your daughter is not accused of theft," said the magistrate.
+
+"But of what is she accused, then? I, her father, swear that, whatever
+she is accused of, she is innocent; and all my life I have never
+lied."
+
+"What good will it do to know what she is accused of?" said Rudolph to
+him; "her innocence shall be proven--the person who interests herself
+so much in you will protect your daughter. Come, come. This time,
+again, Providence will not fail you. Embrace your daughter--you will
+soon see her again."
+
+"M. le Commissaire," cried Morel, without listening to Rudolph, "a
+daughter is not taken away from a father without at least telling him
+of what she is accused! I wish to know all! Louise, will you speak?"
+
+"Your daughter is accused--of infanticide," said the magistrate.
+
+"I--I--do not comprehend--I--you--"
+
+"Your daughter is accused of having killed her child," said the
+officer, much overcome at this scene.
+
+"But it is not yet proved that she has committed this crime."
+
+"Oh, no, it is not so, sir, it is not so," cried Louise, with force,
+and raising herself up: "I swear to you it was dead. It breathed no
+more; it was frozen; I lost all consciousness; that is my crime. But
+kill my child, oh, never!"
+
+"Your child, wretch!" cried Morel, raising his hands to Louise, as if
+he wished to annihilate her with this gesture and terrible
+imprecation.
+
+"Pardon, father, pardon!" cried she.
+
+After a moment of frightful silence, Morel went on with a calmness
+still more frightful.
+
+"Sir, take away this creature; she is not my child."
+
+He wished to go out; Louise threw herself at his knees, which she
+embraced with both arms, and, with face upward, frantic and
+supplicating, she cried, "Father, listen to me, only listen to me."
+
+"Officer, take her away, I abandon her to you," said the artisan,
+making every effort to disengage himself from the embraces of Louise.
+
+"Listen to her," said Rudolph, stopping him; "do not be now without
+pity."
+
+"She, she!" repeated Morel, burying his face in his hands, "she
+dishonored! oh! infamous, infamous!"
+
+"Is she dishonored to save you?" whispered Rudolph.
+
+These words made a startling impression on Morel; he looked at his
+weeping child, still kneeling at his feet, then, interrogating her
+with a look impossible to describe, he cried in a hollow voice, his
+teeth grinding with rage, "The notary!"
+
+An answer came to the lips of Louise. She was about to speak, but, on
+reflection, she stopped, bent her head, and remained silent.
+
+"But no--he wished to imprison me this morning," continued Morel; "it
+is not he? oh, so much the better! so much the better. She has no
+excuse for her fault; I can curse her without remorse."
+
+"No, no! do not curse me, my father; to you I will tell all; to you
+alone; and you will see--you will see if I do not deserve your
+pardon."
+
+"Listen to her for the sake of pity," said Rudolph.
+
+"What can she tell me? her infamy? it will soon be public; I will
+wait."
+
+"Sir!" cried Louise to the magistrate, "in mercy let me say a few
+words to my father before leaving him, perhaps forever. And before you
+also, our savior, I will speak, but only before you and my father."
+
+"I consent," said the magistrate.
+
+"Will you, then, be insensible? will you refuse this last consolation
+to your child?" asked Rudolph. "If you think you owe me some return
+for the favors I have directed toward you, grant the prayer of your
+daughter."
+
+After a moment of mournful silence, Morel answered, "Let us go."
+
+"But where shall we go?" asked Rudolph; "your family is in the next
+room."
+
+"Where shall we go?" cried the artisan, with bitter irony, "where
+shall we go? up there--up there, in the garret, alongside of the body
+of my child. The place is well chosen for this confession--is it not?
+Come--we will see if Louise will dare to lie in the sight of her
+sister. Come!" Morel went out precipitately, with a wild stare,
+without looking at Louise."
+
+"Sir," whispered the officer to Rudolph, "do not prolong this
+interview. You said truly, his reason will not sustain it; just now
+his look was that of a madman."
+
+"Alas! sir, I fear, like you, a terrible and new misfortune: I will
+shorten as much as possible the touching adieus." And Rudolph rejoined
+the artisan and his daughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+CONFESSION.
+
+
+Dark and gloomy spectacle.
+
+In the garret reposed, on the couch of the idiot, the corpse of the
+little child. An old piece of sheet covered it. Rudolph standing with
+his back to the wall, was painfully affected. Morel, seated on his
+work-bench, his head down, hands hanging; his looks, fixed, wild, were
+constantly bent on the bed where reposed the remains of the little
+Adele.
+
+At this sight, the anger, the indignation of the artisan became
+weaker, and changed into a sadness of inexpressible bitterness; his
+energy abandoned him--he sunk under this new blow. Louise, of a mortal
+paleness, felt her strength fail her. The revelation that she was
+about to make frightened her. Yet she took tremblingly the hand of her
+father--that poor, thin hand, deformed by excess of labor.
+
+He did not withdraw it. Then his daughter, bursting into tears,
+covered it with kisses, and soon felt it press lightly against her
+lips.
+
+The anger of Morel had ceased; his tears, for a long time retained,
+flowed at last. "My father, if you knew--if you knew how much I am to
+be pitied."
+
+"Oh! stop; you see, this will be the grief of all my life, Louise--of
+all my life," answered the artisan, weeping. "You in prison--in the
+dock--you, so proud-when you had the right to be so. No," continued
+he, in a new access of desperate grief, "no, I should prefer to seeing
+you under the winding-sheet, alongside your poor little sister."
+
+"And I, also, wish it were so," answered Louise.
+
+"Hush, unfortunate child, you give me pain. I was wrong to say that; I
+went too far. Come, speak, but tell the truth. However frightful it
+may be, tell me all. If I hear it from you, it will appear less cruel
+to me. Speak; alas! our moments are counted; you are waited for. Oh!
+the sad, sad parting."
+
+"My father, I will tell you all," said Louise, resolutely; "but
+promise me, and you, our benefactor, promise also, not to repeat this
+to any one. If he knew that I had spoken, do you see--oh! you would be
+lost--lost like me; for you do not know the power and ferocity of this
+man."
+
+"Of what man?"
+
+"My master."
+
+"The notary?"
+
+"Yes," said Louise, in a low tone, and looking around her, as if she
+were afraid of being overheard.
+
+"Compose yourself," answered Rudolph. "This man is cruel and powerful,
+but no matter; we will face him. Besides, if I reveal what you are
+about to tell us, it will be only in your interest or in that of your
+father."
+
+"And, Louise, if I speak, it will be to try to save you. But what has
+this wicked man done?"
+
+"This is not all," said Louise, after a moment's reflection; "this sad
+tale concerns some one who has rendered me a great service--who has
+been for my father and family full of kindness--this person was
+employed at M. Ferrand's when I went; I have sworn not to mention the
+name."
+
+"If you mean Francois Germain, be easy; his secret will be kept by
+your father and myself," said Rudolph.
+
+Louise looked at Rudolph with surprise.
+
+"You know him?" said she.
+
+"The good and excellent young man who lived here for three months, and
+was employed at the notary's when you went there?" said Morel. "The
+first time you saw him here you appeared not to know him."
+
+"That was agreed upon between us. He had grave reasons to conceal that
+he worked for M. Ferrand. It was I who told him of the chamber on the
+fourth story, knowing he would be a good neighbor for you."
+
+"But," said Rudolph, "who placed your daughter with the notary?"
+
+"When my wife was taken sick, I had said to Madame Burette, the
+pawnbroker, who lives in this house, that Louise wished to go to
+service to aid us. Madame Burette knew the housekeeper of the notary;
+she gave me a letter to her, in which she strongly recommended Louise.
+Cursed--cursed be that letter; it has caused all our misfortunes. So,
+sir, this is the way my daughter went there."
+
+"Although I am informed of some of the facts which have caused the
+hatred of M. Ferrand toward your father," said Rudolph to Louise, "I
+beg you will relate to me in a few words what passed between you and
+the notary since you entered his service. This may serve to defend
+you."
+
+"During the first months of my stay at M. Ferrand's I had no reason to
+complain of him. I had much work to do; the housekeeper was often very
+rough toward me; the house was gloomy; but I endured all with
+patience; servitude is servitude, otherwise I should have had other
+disagreements. M. Ferrand had a stern look. He went to mass; he often
+received priests. I did not mistrust him. At first he hardly looked at
+me. He spoke very cross to me; above all, in the presence of
+strangers.
+
+"Except the porter who lodged on the street, in the building where the
+office is, I was the only domestic with Mrs. Seraphin, the
+housekeeper. The building we occupied was an old isolated ruin,
+between the court and garden. My chamber was quite up to the top. Very
+often I was afraid to remain alone all the evening, either in the
+kitchen, which was underground, or in my chamber. In the night, I
+sometimes thought I heard extraordinary noises in the room under mine,
+which no one occupied, and where M. Germain alone often came to work
+during the day. Two of the windows of this story were walled up, and
+one of the doors, very thick, was strengthened with bars of iron. The
+housekeeper told me afterward that M. Ferrand kept his strong box
+there.
+
+"One night I had sat up very late to finish some mending, which was
+very urgent; I was about to go to bed, when I heard some one walking
+very softly in the corridor at the end of which was my chamber: they
+stopped at my door; at first I thought it was the housekeeper, but as
+she did not come in, it made me afraid; I dared not stir; I listened,
+no one stirred; I was, however, sure there was some one behind the
+door; I asked twice who was there--no one answered. More and more
+alarmed, I pushed my chest of drawers against the door, which had
+neither lock nor bolt. I still listened--nothing stirred; at the end
+of half-an-hour, which appeared very long, I threw myself on my bed;
+the night passed tranquilly. The next morning I asked the housekeeper
+for permission to put a bolt on my door, as there was no lock,
+relating to her my fears of the last night; she answered that I had
+dreamed, that I must speak to M. Ferrand about it; at my demand he
+shrugged his shoulders, and told me I was a fool. I did not dare to
+say anything more.
+
+"Some time after this happened the affair of the diamond. My father,
+almost desperate, knew not what to do. I related his trouble to Mrs.
+Seraphin; she answered, 'M. Ferrand is so charitable that perhaps he
+will do something for your father.' The same evening I waited on
+table; M. Ferrand said to me, bluntly, 'Your father has need of
+thirteen hundred francs; go this night and tell him to come to my
+office to-morrow; he shall have the money. He is an honest man, and
+deserves that one should interest himself for him.' At this act of
+kindness I burst into tears; I did not know how to thank my master. He
+said to me, in his ordinary rough manner, 'It is well, it is well;
+what I have done is very simple." In the evening I came to tell the
+good news to my father, and the next day----"
+
+"I had the money, against a bill at three months' date, accepted in
+blank by me," said Morel. "I did like Louise; I wept with gratitude: I
+called him my benefactor. Oh! he must needs have been wicked indeed to
+destroy the gratitude and veneration I vowed to him."
+
+"This precaution to make you sign a bill in blank, at such a date that
+you could not pay it, did not awaken your suspicions?" asked Rudolph.
+
+[Illustration: THE ARRIVAL OF THE SOLDIERS]
+
+"No, sir, I thought that the notary only took it for security;
+besides, he told me I need not think of paying it under two years;
+every three months it should be renewed for the sake of being regular;
+yet, at the end of the first term, it was presented, and not being
+paid, he obtained a judgment against me under another name; but he
+told me not to be troubled, that it was an error of his clerk."
+
+"He wished thus to have you in his power," said Rudolph.
+
+"Alas! yes, sir; for it was from the date of his judgment he began to--but
+continue, Louise, continue: I do not know where I am. My head
+turns. I shall become mad; it is too much--too much!"
+
+Rudolph soothed him, and Louise continued: "I redoubled my zeal to
+show my gratitude. The housekeeper then held me in great aversion; she
+often placed me in the wrong by not repeating the orders that M.
+Ferrand gave her for me; I suffered from this, and would have
+preferred another place, but the obligation of my father to my master
+prevented my leaving. It was now three months since he had lent the
+money; he continued to scold me before Mrs. Seraphin, yet he looked at
+me sometimes behind her back in such a manner as to embarrass me, and
+he smiled in seeing me blush."
+
+"You comprehend, sir, he was then about to obtain a judgment against
+me."
+
+"One day," continued Louise, "the housekeeper went out after dinner,
+as was her custom; the clerks had left the office; they lodged
+elsewhere. M. Ferrand sent the porter on an errand; I remained in the
+house alone with my master; I was working in the ante-chamber; he rang
+for me. I entered his room; he was standing before the fireplace; I
+drew near; he turned quickly, and took me by the arm. I was alarmed. I
+ran into the ante-chamber, and shut the door, holding it with all my
+strength; the key was on his side."
+
+"You understand, sir. You hear," said Morel to Rudolph, "the conduct
+of this worthy benefactor."
+
+"At the end of a few moments the door yielded to his efforts,"
+continued Louise. "I blew out the light--he called me. I made no
+answer. He then said, in a voice trembling with rage, 'If you resist,
+I will send your father to prison for the money he owes and cannot
+pay.' I begged him to have pity on me; promised to do everything I
+could to serve him, and show my gratitude, but I declared nothing
+could induce me to degrade myself."
+
+"Yes; this is the language of Louise," said Morel, "of my Louise, when
+she had the right to be proud. But now? Continue--continue."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The next morning after this scene, in spite of the threats of my
+master, I came here and told my father all. He wished to make me leave
+the house at once--but there was the prison. The little that I earned
+was indispensable to the family, since the illness of my mother; and
+the bad character which M. Ferrand threatened to give me would prevent
+my seeking or obtaining another place for a long time, perhaps."
+
+"Yes," said Morel, with great bitterness, "we had the cowardice, the
+selfishness, to let our child return there. Oh! poverty, poverty! how
+many crimes it causes to be committed!"
+
+"Alas! father! did you not try all means to obtain the money? That
+being impossible, we had to submit."
+
+"Go on, go on, continue. Your parents have been your executioners; we
+are guiltier than you are," said the artisan, concealing his face in
+his hands.
+
+"When I saw my master again," said Louise, "he acted toward me as
+usual, cross and harshly; he said not a word of the past; the
+housekeeper continued to torment me; she hardly gave me enough to eat,
+locked up the bread; sometimes, out of wickedness, she would defile
+the remains of the dinner before my eyes, for she always ate with
+Ferrand. At night I hardly slept. I feared at each moment to see the
+notary enter my room! He had taken away the drawers with which I had
+barricaded my door; there only remained a chair, a little table, and
+my trunk; I always retired to bed dressed. For some time he left me
+tranquil; he did not even look at me. I began to be at ease, thinking
+that he thought no more of me. One Sunday he allowed me to go out; I
+came to announce this good news to my parents. We were all very happy!
+It is up to this moment you have known all. What remains to tell," and
+the voice of Louise trembled, "is frightful! I have always concealed
+it from you."
+
+"Oh, I was very sure of it--very sure that you concealed a secret from
+me," cried Morel, with a kind of wandering, and a singular volubility
+of expression which astonished Rudolph. "Your pallor and expression
+should have enlightened me. A hundred times I have spoken to your
+mother; but she always repelled me. Look at us well! look at us! To
+escape a prison, we leave our daughter at this monster's. And where
+does our child go to? To the dock! Because one is poor--yes--but the
+others--the others." Then, stopping as if to collect his thoughts,
+Morel struck himself on the forehead, and cried, "Stop, I do not know
+what I say. My head pains dreadfully. It seems to me I am drunk." And
+he concealed his face in his hands.
+
+Rudolph, not wishing to let Louise see how much he was alarmed at the
+incoherent language of her father, said, gravely, "You are not just,
+Morel; it was not for herself alone, but for her mother, for her
+children, for yourself, that your poor wife feared the consequences of
+Louise leaving the notary. Accuse no one. Let all the maledictions,
+all your hatred, fall on one man--this monster of hypocrisy, who
+placed a girl between dishonor and ruin; the death, perhaps, of her
+father and his family; on this master, who abused in an infamous
+manner his power as a master. But, patience; I have told you
+Providence often reserves for great crimes a surprising and frightful
+vengeance."
+
+The words of Rudolph were stamped with such force and conviction, in
+speaking of this providential vengeance, that Louise looked at him
+with surprise, almost with fear.
+
+"Continue, my child," said he: "conceal nothing; this is more
+important than you think."
+
+"I began, then, to feel some security," said Louise, "when one night
+Ferrand and his housekeeper both went out, each their own way. They
+did not dine at home; I remained alone. As usual, they left me some
+bread and water, and wine. My work finished, I dined; and then,
+fearing to remain alone in the apartments, I went up to my own room,
+after having lighted M. Ferrand's lamp. When he went out at night no
+one waited for him. I began to sew, and, what was very unusual, by
+degrees, sleep overpowered me. Oh, father," cried Louise, "you will
+not believe me--you will accuse me of falsehood; and yet, on the
+corpse of my little sister, I swear I tell you the truth."
+
+"Explain yourself," said Rudolph.
+
+"Alas! sir, for seven months I sought in vain to explain to myself
+this frightful night. I have almost lost my reason in trying to
+explore this mystery."
+
+"Oh!" cried the artisan, "what is she going to say?"
+
+"Contrary to my custom, I fell asleep on my chair," continued Louise.
+"That is the last thing I recollect. Before--before--oh, father,
+pardon! I swear to you I am not culpable."
+
+"I believe you, I believe you; but speak!"
+
+"I do not know how long I slept; when I awoke I was still in my
+chamber, but--"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Oh! the wretch, the wretch," cried Rudolph. "Do you know, Morel, what
+he gave her to drink?" The artisan looked at Rudolph, but made no
+reply. "The housekeeper, his accomplice, had put in the drink of
+Louise a soporific--opium, without doubt; the strength, the senses of
+your child have been paralyzed for some hours; when she awoke from
+this lethargic sleep, the crime was committed."
+
+"Ah! now," cried Louise, "my misfortune is explained; you see, father,
+I am less guilty than I appear. Father, father! answer me!"
+
+The look of the artisan was of a frightful vagueness.
+
+Such horrible perversity could not be understood by so honest and
+simple-hearted a man. He could hardly comprehend the dreadful
+revelation. And, besides, it must be said, that for some moments his
+reason had deserted him; at each moment his ideas became more obscure;
+then he fell into that vacuity of thought which is to the mind what
+night is to the sight: formidable symptoms of mental alienation. Yet
+Morel answered, in a quick, dull, and a mournful tone, "Oh! yes, it is
+very wicked, very wicked, wicked."
+
+And he fell back into his apathy. Rudolph looked at him with anxiety:
+he thought that the intensity of indignation began to be exhausted
+with him; the same as after violent griefs tears are often wanting.
+Wishing to terminate as soon as possible this sad conversation,
+Rudolph said to Louise:
+
+"Courage, my child; finish unveiling this tissue of horrors."
+
+"Alas! sir, what you have heard is nothing as yet."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Ah! all precautions were taken to conceal his enormity!" said
+Rudolph.
+
+"Yes, sir, and I was ruined. To all that he said to me I could find no
+answer. Ignorant what drink I had taken, I could not explain my long
+sleep. Appearances were against me. If I complained, every one would
+condemn me; it must be so, for to me all was an impenetrable mystery."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE CRIME
+
+
+Rudolph remained confounded at the detestable villainy of Ferrand.
+"Then," said he to Louise, "you did not dare to complain to your
+father of the odious conduct of the notary?"
+
+"No, sir; I feared he would have thought me the accomplice instead of
+the victim; and besides, I feared that, in his anger, my father would
+forget that his liberty, the existence of his family, depended
+entirely upon my master."
+
+"And was his conduct less brutal toward you afterward?"
+
+"No, sir. To drive away suspicion, when by chance he had the Cure of
+Bonne Nouvelle and his vicar to dinner, my master addressed me before
+them with severe reproaches; he prayed the Cure to admonish me; he
+said that sooner or later I should be lost; that my manners were too
+free with his clerks; that I was idle; that he kept me out of charity
+for my father, an honest man with a family, whom he had served. All
+this was false. I never saw the clerks; they were in a separate
+building from us."
+
+"And when you found yourself alone with M. Ferrand, how did he explain
+his conduct toward you before the Cure?
+
+"He assured me that he joked. But the Cure took these accusations for
+serious; he told me severely that one must be doubly vicious to act
+thus in a holy house, where I had religious examples continually under
+my eyes. To that I did not know what to answer; I held down my head,
+blushing. My silence, my confusion, turned still more against me; my
+life was such a burden that several times I was on the point of
+destroying myself; but I thought of my father, my mother, my brothers
+and sisters, whom I helped to support. I resigned myself; in the midst
+of my degradation I found a consolation--at least my father was saved
+from prison. A new misfortune overwhelmed me--I was _enceinte;_ I
+saw myself altogether lost. I do not know why, I had a presentiment
+that M. Ferrand, in learning an event which should have rendered him
+less cruel toward me, would increase his bad treatment; I was,
+however, far from supposing what would happen."
+
+Morel recovered from his momentary aberration, looked around him with
+astonishment, passed his hand over his face, collected his thoughts,
+and said to his daughter, "It seems to me I have forgotten myself for
+a moment--fatigue--sorrow. What did you say?"
+
+"When M. Ferrand was informed of my situation--"
+
+The artisan made a movement of despair. Rudolph calmed him with a
+look.
+
+"Go on; I will listen to the end," said Morel. "Go on, go on."
+
+Louise resumed:--"I asked M. Ferrand by what means I could conceal my
+shame. Interrupting me with indignation, and a feigned surprise, he
+pretended not to understand me; he asked me if I were mad; frightened,
+I cried, 'But, my God, what do you wish to become of me now? If you
+have no pity on me, have at least some pity on your child!' 'What a
+horror!' cried he, raising his hands toward heaven. 'How, wretch! You
+have the audacity to accuse me of being corrupt enough to descend to a
+girl of your class! you have effrontery enough to accuse me!--I, who
+have a hundred times repeated before the most respectable witnesses
+that you would be ruined, vile wanton. Leave my house this moment--I
+thrust you from my door.'"
+
+Rudolph and Morel remained horror-struck; such atrocity overpowered
+them.
+
+"Oh! I confess," said Rudolph, "this passes all conception."
+
+Morel said nothing; his eyes became enlarged in a fearful manner: a
+convulsive spasm contracted his features; he descended from the bench
+where he was seated, opened quickly a drawer, and took out a strong,
+very sharp, file, with a wooden handle, and rushed toward the door.
+
+Rudolph, divining his thoughts, seized him by the arm and stopped him.
+
+"Morel, where are you going? You will ruin yourself, unfortunate man."
+
+"Take care!" cried the artisan, furiously struggling; "I shall commit
+two crimes instead of one!" and the madman threatened Rudolph.
+
+"Father, it is our savior!" cried Louise.
+
+"He is mocking us! bah, bah! he wishes to save the notary!" answered
+Morel, completely wild, and contending with Rudolph. At the end of a
+second, he succeeded in disarming him, opened the door, and threw the
+instrument on the staircase.
+
+Louise ran to the artisan, held him in her arms, and said, "Father, he
+is our benefactor; you have raised your hand on him; come to
+yourself."
+
+These words recalled Morel to himself; he covered his face with his
+hands, and, without saying a word, he fell at Rudolph's feet.
+
+"Rise, unfortunate father!" said Rudolph kindly. "Patience, patience;
+I understand your fury, I partake of your hatred; but, in the name
+even of your vengeance, do not compromise it."
+
+"Good heavens!" cried the artisan, raising himself up. "What can
+justice--law--do in such a case? Poor as we are, when we go and accuse
+the powerful, rich, and respected man, they will laugh in our face--
+ah, ah, ah!" and he laughed convulsively. "And they will be right.
+Where are our proofs--yes, our proofs? They will not believe us.
+Therefore, I tell you," cried he, in another storm of madness, "I tell
+you I have no confidence but in the impartiality of the knife!"
+
+"Silence, Morel; grief makes you wander," said Rudolph suddenly. "Let
+your daughter speak; moments are precious--the magistrate waits; I
+must know all--I tell you, all. Continue, my child."
+
+"It is useless, sir," said Louise, "to speak to you of my tears, my
+prayers. I was disregarded. This took place at ten o'clock in the
+morning, in the cabinet of M. Ferrand. The priest was to breakfast
+with him that morning; he entered at the moment my master was loading
+me with reproaches and outrages. He appeared much vexed at the sight
+of the priest."
+
+"And what did he say then?"
+
+"He soon made up his mind what course to pursue; he cried, pointing to
+me, 'Well, reverend sir, I said truly that this creature would be
+ruined. She is lost--lost forever; she has just acknowledged to me her
+fault and her shame, begging me to save her. And to think that I,
+through pity, have received such a wretch into my house.' 'How,' said
+the priest to me, with indignation, 'in spite of the salutary counsels
+which your master has given you so often before me, you have thus
+degraded yourself? Oh, this is unpardonable. My friend, after the
+kindness you have shown her and her family, pity would be a weakness.
+Be inexorable,' said the priest, a dupe, like everybody else, of the
+hypocrisy of M. Ferrand."
+
+"And you did not at once unmask the scoundrel?" said Rudolph.
+
+"I was terrified, my head turned; I dared not, I could not pronounce a
+word, yet I wished to speak, to defend myself. 'But, sir'--I cried.
+'Not a word more, unworthy creature!' said M. Ferrand, interrupting
+me. 'You have heard the worthy priest: pity would be weakness. In an
+hour, you leave my house!' Then, without giving me time to answer, he
+led the priest into another room.
+
+"After the departure of M. Ferrand," continued Louise, "I was for a
+moment, as it were, delirious. I saw myself driven from his house, not
+able to get another place, on account of my situation and the bad
+character my master would give me. I did not doubt but that in his
+anger he would imprison my father; I did not know what would become of
+me. I went for refuge and to weep, to my chamber. At the end of two
+hours M. Ferrand appeared. 'Is your trunk ready?' said he. 'Have
+mercy!' I cried, falling at his feet 'Do not send me away in the state
+in which I am; what will become of me? I can find no other place.' 'So
+much the better; God will thus punish your conduct and your lies.' 'You
+dare to say that I lie!' cried I indignantly; 'you dare to say you
+are not the cause of my ruin?' 'Leave my house at once, you infamous
+creature, since you persist in your calumnies!' cried he, in a
+terrible voice. 'And to punish you, to-morrow I will imprison your
+father.' 'Well--no, no!' said I, aghast; 'I will accuse you no longer,
+sir--I promise it; but do not drive me away--have pity on my father;
+the little that I earn here supports my family. Keep me here--I will
+say nothing--I will conceal everything as long as I can, and then--you
+can send me away.'
+
+"After renewed supplications, M. Ferrand consented to my prayers: I
+regarded it as a great favor, so frightful was my condition. Yet, for
+the five months which followed this cruel scene, I was very unhappy,
+very cruelly treated. Sometimes only M. Germain, whom I saw but
+seldom, interrogated me with kindness on the subject of my sorrows;
+but shame forbade my confession."
+
+"Is it not about this time that he came to live here?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He wished for a room near the Temple or the Arsenal; there
+was one to be let here, it suited him."
+
+"And you never thought of confiding your sorrows to M. Germain?" asked
+Rudolph.
+
+"No, sir; he was also a dupe of M. Ferrand's; he said he was hard and
+exacting, but he thought him the most honest man in the world. I
+passed these five months in tears, in continual agony. With care, I
+had concealed my situation from all eyes, but I could hope to do so no
+longer. The future was for me most dreadful; M. Ferrand had declared
+he would not keep me any longer with him. I was thus about to be
+deprived of the small resource that aided our family to live. Cursed,
+driven away by my father--for, after the falsehoods that I had told
+him to dissipate his suspicions, he would not believe me to be the
+victim of M. Ferrand--what was to become of me? where was I to fly?
+where to find a refuge? I had then a very wicked idea. I confess this,
+sir, because I wish to conceal nothing, even that which may cast
+suspicion on me, and also to show you to what an extremity I was
+reduced by the cruelty of M. Ferrand. If I had yielded to a fatal
+thought, would he not have been an accomplice of my crime?"
+
+After a moment's silence, Louise resumed, with an effort, and in a
+trembling voice, "I had heard from the portress that a quack lived in
+the house--and--" She could not finish.
+
+Rudolph remembered that at his first call on Mrs. Pipelet he had
+received from the postman, in her absence, a letter written on coarse
+paper, in a disguised hand, and on which he had remarked the traces of
+tears. "And you did write him, unhappy child, three days since? On
+this letter you have wept; your writing was disguised."
+
+Louise looked at Rudolph with affright. "How do you know, sir?"
+
+"Calm yourself. I was alone in the lodge of Mrs. Pipelet when this
+letter was handed in, and it was my chance to receive it."
+
+"Yes, sir; in this letter, without signature, I wrote to M.
+Bradamanti, that, not daring to come to him, I begged he would meet me
+that evening near the Château dead. I was half crazy. I wished to ask
+his fearful advice. I left my master's house to meet him; but my
+reason returned. I regained the house; I did not see him. Thus the
+scene took place, from the consequences of which I am now suffering--
+M. Ferrand believing me gone out for two hours, while after a very
+short time I returned."
+
+"In pacing before the little door of the garden, to my great
+astonishment I saw it open. I entered that way, and I carried the key
+to the cabinet of M. Ferrand, where it was ordinarily kept. This was,
+next to his bed-chamber, the most retired place in the house: it was
+there he gave his secret audiences. You will see, sir, why I give you
+these details. Knowing all the ways of the house very well, after
+having crossed the dining-room, which was lighted, I entered into the
+saloon in the dark, then to the cabinet, as I said before. The door of
+his chamber opened at the moment I placed the key on the table. Hardly
+had my master perceived me by the light which was burning in his
+chamber, than he closed the door quickly on a person whom I could not
+see. Then he threw himself on me, seized me by the throat as if he
+wished to strangle me, and said to me in a low tone, at once furious
+and alarmed, 'You were spying; you listened at the door; what did you
+hear? Answer, answer! or I'll strangle you.' But changing his mind,
+without giving me time to say a word, he pushed me backward into the
+dining-room. The office was open; he threw me into it brutally, and
+locked the door."
+
+"And you heard nothing of his conversation?"
+
+"Nothing, sir: if I had known he had anybody in the room, I should
+have taken care not to have entered the cabinet; he forbade even Mrs.
+Seraphin to do so."
+
+"And when you came out of the office, what did he say to you?"
+
+"It was the housekeeper who came to conduct me, and I did not see him
+again that night. The alarm I had experienced had made me very ill.
+The next morning, as I came downstairs, I met M. Ferrand. I shuddered
+in thinking of his threats of the evening previous; what was my
+surprise when he said to me, almost calmly, 'You know I forbid any one
+to come into my cabinet when I have some one in my chamber; but for
+the short time that you have to remain here, it is useless to scold
+any more,' and he passed into his office. This moderation surprised
+me, after the violence of the previous evening. I went on with my
+usual duties; I went to put in order his sleeping apartment. In
+arranging some clothes in a dark closet near the alcove, I was
+suddenly taken very ill; I felt that I was about to faint. In falling,
+I grasped at a cloak which was hanging against the wall. I dragged it
+along with me; it covered me completely as I lay upon the floor. When
+I came to myself, the glass door of this closet was shut. I heard the
+voice of M. Ferrand. He spoke very loud. Recollecting the scene of the
+previous evening, I thought myself killed if I stirred. I supposed
+that, concealed under the mantle which had fallen on me, my master, in
+shutting the door, had not perceived me. If he discovered me, how
+could I make him believe that my presence was accidental? I held my
+breath, and, in spite of myself, I heard the end of this conversation,
+which doubtless had been commenced for some time."
+
+"Who was the person who was talking with him?" asked Rudolph.
+
+"I am ignorant, sir; I did not know the voice."
+
+"And what did they say?"
+
+"The conversation had lasted for some time, doubtless, for this is all
+I heard. 'Nothing can be plainer,' said this unknown voice. 'A queer
+fish, called Bras-Rouge (Red-Arm), a determined smuggler, has brought
+me, for the affair I have just spoken about, in connection with a
+family of fresh-water pirates, who are established at the point of a
+little island near Aspires. They are the greatest bandits in the land;
+the father and grandfather have both been guillotined, two of the sons
+are to the galleys for life; but the mother, three sons, and two
+daughters are left, all as great villains one as the other. It is said
+that at night, to rob on both sides of the Seine, they come down in
+their boats sometimes as far as Barky. They are folks who will kill
+the first comer for a crown; but we have no need of them; it suffices
+if they will give hospitality to your country lady. The Martial (the
+name of my pirates) will pass in her eyes for an honest family of
+fishermen. I will go on your account, and make two or three visits to
+your young lady; I will order her certain potions, and at the end of
+eight days she will make acquaintance with Aspires Cemetery. In the
+villages, a death passes like a letter through the post-office, while
+at Paris they scrutinize too closely. But when will you send your
+country girl to the island, so that I can advise the Martial what part
+they have to play?' 'She will arrive to-morrow, and the day after she
+will be there,' answered Ferrand; 'and I will inform her that the
+Doctor Vincent will take care of her on my account.' 'Agreed for the
+name of Vincent,' said the voice; 'I like that as well as any other.'"
+
+"What is this new mystery of crime and infamy?" said Rudolph, more and
+more surprised.
+
+"New? no, sir; you will see that it has reference to a crime that you
+do know," answered Louise; and she continued, "I heard the movement of
+chairs; the conversation was at an end. 'I do not ask you to be
+secret,' said M. Ferrand; 'you hold me as I hold you.' 'That proves
+that we can serve, but never injure one another,' answered the voice;
+'see my zeal. I received your letter last night at ten o'clock; this
+morning I am here. Farewell, accomplice; do not forget the Island of
+Asnieres, the fisher Martial, and Dr. Vincent. Thanks to these three
+magical words, your country girl has only eight days left.' 'Stop,'
+said M. Ferrand, 'while I go and unbolt the door of my cabinet, and
+see if there is any one in the ante-chamber, that you may go out by
+the garden, as you came in.' M. Ferrand went out a moment, and then
+returned, and finally I heard him go off with the unknown person. You
+may imagine my alarm, sir, during this conversation, and my horror at
+knowing such a secret. Two hours after this conversation, Mrs.
+Seraphin came to seek me in my chamber, where I had gone more
+trembling and sick than I had yet been. 'M. Ferrand wants you,' said
+she; 'you have more good luck than you deserve; come, descend. You are
+very pale; what you are going to learn will give you more color.'
+
+"I followed Mrs. Seraphin; M. Ferrand was in his cabinet. At seeing
+him, I shuddered in spite of myself; yet he had a less wicked look
+than usual; he looked at me fixedly for a long time, as if he wished
+to read my thoughts. I cast down my eyes. 'You appear very ill,' said
+he. 'Yes, sir,' I answered, astonished that he did not address me
+familiarly as usual. 'It is very plain,' added he, 'it is in
+consequence of your situation; but notwithstanding your lies, your bad
+conduct, and your indiscretion of yesterday,' added he, in a softened
+tone, 'I have pity on you. Although I have treated you as you deserved
+before the cure of the parish, such an affair as this will be a
+scandal to my house; and, moreover, your family will be in despair. I
+consent, under these circumstances to come to your assistance.' 'Ah,
+sir,' I cried, 'these words of kindness on your part make me forget
+all.' 'Forget what?' asked he sharply. 'Nothing, nothing; pardon me,
+sir,' answered I, fearing to irritate him, and believing in his
+professions of pity. 'Listen to me,' said he; 'you will go to see your
+father to-day; you will announce to him that I am going to send you
+for two or three months in the country to take charge of a house I
+have just bought; during your absence I will send him your wages.
+To-morrow you will leave Paris; I will give you a letter of
+recommendation for Mrs. Martial, the mother of a family of honest
+fishermen who live near Asnieres. You will require to say you came
+from the country, nothing more. Later you will know the object of this
+letter, all for your interest. Mrs. Martial will treat you as her
+child; a physician, a friend of mine, Dr. Vincent, will take you under
+his charge. You see how good I am for you!'"
+
+"What a horrible plot!" cried Rudolph. "Now I comprehend all.
+Believing that the evening previous you had become possessed of a
+secret of great importance to him, he wished to get rid of you. He had
+probably some interest in deceiving his accomplice, in representing
+you as a girl from the country. What must have been your affright at
+this proposition!"
+
+"It was a great blow. I was completely bewildered; I knew not what to
+answer; I looked at M. Ferrand with affright; my mind wandered. I was
+about, perhaps, to risk my life in telling him that I had overheard
+his projects in the morning, when, happily, I recollected the new
+dangers to which this would expose me. 'You do not comprehend me,
+then?' asked he, with impatience. 'Yes, sir, but,' said I, trembling,
+'I prefer not to go to the country.' 'Why not? You will be perfectly
+well taken care of where I shall send you. 'No, no, I will not go; I
+prefer to remain in Paris, near my family; I had rather confess all,
+die with shame, if it is necessary.' 'You refuse me!' said M. Ferrand,
+restraining his anger, and looking at me with attention. 'Why have you
+changed your mind so quickly? Just now you accepted.' I saw that if he
+suspected me I was lost; I answered that I did not think that he meant
+me to leave Paris and my family. 'But you will dishonor your family,
+wretch,' cried he; and not being able any longer to contain himself,
+he seized me by the arm, and pushed me so violently that I fell. 'I
+give you until after to-morrow,' cried he; 'to-morrow you shall leave
+this to go to the Martials, or to tell your father I have sent you
+away, and that he goes the same day to prison.' I remained alone,
+stretched on the earth; I had not the strength to get up. Mrs.
+Seraphin came, and with her assistance I regained my chamber. I threw
+myself on my bed; I remained there until night."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Amid the horrors of this frightful, solitary night, I had a moment of
+bitter joy: it was when I pressed my child in my arms." And the voice
+of Louise was suffocated with her tears.
+
+Morel had listened to the story of his daughter with an apathy and
+indifference which alarmed Rudolph. Yet, seeing her in tears, he
+looked fixedly at her and said: "She weeps--she weeps; why, then, does
+she weep? Oh, yes; I know, I know--the notary. Continue, my poor
+Louise; you are my child. I love you still--just now I did not know
+you; my tears obscured my sight. Oh, my head--my head--it gives me
+great pain."
+
+"You see I am not culpable; is it not so, father?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"It is a great sorrow--but I feared the notary so much!"
+
+"The notary? Oh! I believe you--he is so bad--so wicked!"
+
+"You pardon me now?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Truly?"
+
+"Yes, truly. Oh, I love you still--go--although--I cannot--say--do you
+see--because--oh! my head! my bead!"
+
+Louise looked at Rudolph with alarm.
+
+"He suffers; let him compose himself. Continue."
+
+"I pressed my child to my heart. I was astonished not to hear it
+breathe, but I said to myself, the respiration of so young a child can
+hardly be heard; and yet it seemed to me that it was very cold. I had
+no light. I waited until dawn, trying to warm it as well as I could,
+At daylight I found it was stiff--icy. I placed my hand on its heart;
+it did not beat--it was dead."
+
+And Louise burst into bitter sobs.
+
+"Oh! at this moment," continued she, "thoughts passed impossible to
+describe, I remember it confusedly as a dream; it was at once despair,
+terror, anger, and, above all, I was seized with another alarm; I no
+longer dreaded that Ferrand would strangle me, but I feared that if my
+child was found dead at my side I should be accused of having killed
+it. Then I had but one thought, that of concealing it from all eyes;
+in that way my dishonor would not be known; I would no longer have to
+dread the anger of my father; I should escape the vengeance of
+Ferrand; then I could leave his house, procure another place, and
+continue to earn something toward the support of my family. Alas! sir,
+such are the reasons which induced me to acknowledge nothing, to
+conceal the body of my child from all eyes. It was wrong, certainly;
+but the position I was in, overwhelmed on all sides, crushed by long
+sufferings, almost delirious, I did not reflect to what I exposed
+myself if I was discovered."
+
+"What tortures! what tortures!" said Rudolph, overcome.
+
+"Daylight increased," continued Louise, "in a short time every one
+would be awake in the house. I hesitated no longer. I wrapped up my
+child as well as I could; I descended very softly; I went to the end
+of the garden to make a hole in the ground to bury it, but it had
+frozen all night--the earth was too hard. Then I hid the body at the
+bottom of a kind of cellar where no one entered in winter. I covered
+it with an empty flower-box, and I returned to my room without seeing
+any one. Of all I tell you, sir, I have but a confused idea. Feeble as
+I was, I can as yet hardly comprehend how I had the nerve to do all
+this. At nine o'clock, Mrs. Seraphin came to know why I was not yet
+up. I said that I was so ill, that I begged her to let me remain in
+bed all day; the next day I would quit the house, since M. Ferrand
+sent me away. At the end of one hour he came himself. 'You are worse;
+this is the consequence of your self-will,' said he. 'If you had
+profited by my offers, to-day you would have been established with
+kind people, who would have taken every care of you; however, I will
+not be so inhuman as to let you suffer; to-night Dr. Vincent will come
+to see you.' At this threat I shuddered with fear. I answered that I
+was wrong the night before to refuse his offers; that I accepted them;
+but that, as yet being too ill to leave, I would go the next day but
+one to the Martials; and that it was useless to send for Dr. Vincent.
+I only wished to gain time; I was decided to leave the house, and to
+go to my father. I hoped in this manner he would be ignorant of all.
+But, deceived by my promise, M. Ferrand was almost affectionate toward
+me, and recommended me, for the first time in his life, to the care of
+Mrs. Seraphin.
+
+"I passed the day in mental agony, trembling at each moment that
+chance would cause a discovery of the body of my child. I only desired
+one thing--that the cold might cease, so that I might be able to dig a
+grave. It snowed--that gave me hopes. I remained all day in bed. The
+night being come, I waited until every one was asleep. I had strength
+to get up to go to the wood pile to look for a hatchet to cut some
+wood to make a hole in the frozen ground. After infinite trouble I at
+last succeeded; then I took the body, I wept over it again, and I
+buried it as I could in the little flower-box. I did not know the
+prayer for the dead; I said a pater and an ave, praying God to receive
+it. I thought my courage would have failed me when I covered it with
+the earth. A mother interring her child! At length I succeeded. Oh!
+what it cost me! I placed the snow over the grave, so that nothing
+should be seen. The moon gave me light. When all was finished, I could
+not make up my mind to come away. Poor little thing! in the frozen
+ground--under the snow. Although it was dead, it seemed to me that it
+must feel the cold. At length I returned to my chamber. I went to my
+bed with a violent fever. In the morning M. Ferrand sent to know how I
+was. I answered that I felt rather better, and that I should certainly
+be ready to leave for the country the next day. I remained all this
+day still in bed, in order to gain strength. In the evening I arose. I
+went to the kitchen to warm myself. I remained late, all alone. I went
+to the garden to say a last prayer. At the moment I ascended toward my
+chamber, I met M. Germain on the landing-place of the cabinet, where
+he sometimes worked; he was very pale. He said to me, quickly, placing
+a rouleau in my hand, 'Your father will be arrested early to-morrow
+morning; here is the money; as soon as it is day run to his house. It
+is only to-day I have found out Ferrand; he is a bad man; I will
+unmask him. Do not, above all, say that you have this money from me.'
+And M. Germain, not giving me time to thank him, descended the stairs
+quickly."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MADNESS.
+
+
+Louise continued: "This morning, before any one was up, I came here
+with the money, but it was not sufficient; and, without your
+generosity, he would not have escaped the bailiffs. Probably, after my
+departure, some one had gone to my room and discovered some traces
+which had led to this discovery. A last service I ask of you, sir,"
+said Louise, drawing out the rouleau of gold from her pocket; "will
+you hand this money to M. Germain? I promised him not to tell any one
+that he was employed at Ferrand's; but since you know it, I have not
+been indiscreet. Now, sir, I repeat, before God, who hears me, and
+before you, I have not said a word that is not true. I have not sought
+to "--but, interrupting herself suddenly, Louise, much alarmed, cried,
+"Oh, sir! look at my father! look at him! What is the matter with
+him?"
+
+Morel had listened to the last part of this narrative with somber
+indifference, which Rudolph had explained to himself by attributing it
+to the overwhelming grief of this unhappy man. After so many violent
+shocks, so oft repeated, his tears were dried up, his sensibility
+blunted--he has not even strength enough left to vent his indignation,
+thought Rudolph.
+
+He was mistaken. Like the flickering light of a lamp about to expire,
+the reason of Morel, already strongly shaken, vacillated for some
+time, showed forth now and then some last rays of intelligence, and
+then suddenly became obscured.
+
+Absolutely a stranger to what was said, to what passed around him, for
+some moments the artisan had become mad!
+
+Although his wheel was placed the other side of his work-table, and he
+had in his hands neither diamonds nor tools, the artisan, attentively
+occupied, imitated his ordinary occupations. He accompanied this
+pantomime with a clacking noise with his tongue, like the wheel when
+in operation.
+
+"Oh, sir!" said Louise, with increased alarm; "look at my father!"
+Then, approaching him, she said, "Father! father!"
+
+Morel looked at his daughter with that vacant stare peculiar to
+lunatics. Without ceasing for a moment his imaginary occupation, he
+answered, in a soft and mournful voice, "I owe thirteen hundred francs
+to the notary, the price of Louise's blood. I must work, work, work!
+Oh! I will pay, pay, pay!"
+
+"This is not possible! This cannot last! He is not altogether mad is
+he?" cried Louise, in a heart-rending tone, "He will come to himself--
+it is only momentary----"
+
+"Morel, my friend," said Rudolph, "we are here. Your daughter is
+alongside of you; she is innocent."
+
+"Thirteen hundred francs," said the artisan, without looking at
+Rudolph, and continuing his imaginary occupation.
+
+"Father," cried Louise, throwing herself at his feet, and taking hold
+of his hands, "it is I, Louise!"
+
+"Thirteen hundred francs," repeated he, endeavoring to disengage
+himself from Louise; "thirteen hundred francs, or else," added he, in
+a low and confidential tone, "or else Louise is guillotined," and he
+began to turn his wheel.
+
+Louise uttered a piercing cry. "He is mad," cried she, "he is mad! and
+it is I--I--who am the cause. Oh, yet it Is not my fault; I did not
+wish to do wrong; it is this monster!"
+
+"Come, poor child, courage!" said Rudolph, "let us hope. This madness
+will be but momentary. Your father has suffered too much, his reason
+has become weakened, he will get better."
+
+"But my mother--my grandmother--my brothers and sister! what will
+become of them?" cried Louise. "See, they are deprived of both my
+father and myself. They will die with hunger, with poverty, and
+despair!"
+
+"Am I not here? Be calm, they shall want for nothing. Courage, I pray
+you: your revelation will cause the punishment of a great criminal.
+You have convinced me of your innocence; it shall certainly be known
+and acknowledged."
+
+"Oh, sir, you see dishonor--madness--death; these are the evils he has
+caused--this man; nothing can be done to him--nothing. Ah, this
+thought completes all my troubles!"
+
+"Far from that; let a contrary thought aid you in supporting them."
+
+"What do you say, sir?"
+
+"Carry with you the certainty that you shall be avenged."
+
+"Avenged!"
+
+"Yes, I swear to you," answered Rudolph, with solemnity, that, his
+crimes proved, this man shall severely expiate the dishonor, madness,
+and death he has caused. If the laws are powerless, if his cunning and
+address equal his misdeeds, to his cunning shall be opposed cunning--
+to his misdeeds, misdeeds--but which shall be to them what the just
+and avenging punishment, inflicted on the culpable by an inexorable
+hand, is to the cowardly and concealed murder."
+
+"Ah, sir, may God hear you! It is not myself I wish to revenge, it is
+my crazy father; it is"--then, turning to her father, she cried,
+"Father, farewell. They take me to prison--I shall never see you more;
+it is your Louise who bids you farewell--father, father, father!"
+
+At this touching appeal nothing responded; nothing responded in this
+poor annihilated mind--nothing. The paternal cords, always the last
+broken, vibrated no more.
+
+The garret door opened, and the officer entered.
+
+"My time is up, sir," said he to Rudolph. "I declare to you, with
+regret, that it is impossible for me to wait any longer."
+
+"The conversation is terminated, sir," answered Rudolph bitterly,
+pointing to the artisan. "Louise has nothing more to say to her
+father; he has nothing more to hear from his daughter--he is mad."
+
+"Good God! just what I feared. Ah, it is frightful," cried the
+magistrate; and approaching quickly to the artisan, after a moment's
+examination he was convinced of the sad reality. "Ah, sir," said he,
+sadly, to Rudolph, "I have already made sincere wishes that the
+innocence of this young girl may be proved; but now I will not confine
+myself to wishes--no, no, I will tell of this last dreadful blow; and,
+do not doubt it, the judges will have a motive the more to find her
+innocent."
+
+"Well, well, sir," said Rudolph, "in acting thus, it is not only your
+duty you fulfill, but you are performing a worthy part."
+
+"Believe me, sir, some of our missions are so painful, that it is with
+happiness, with gratitude, that we interest ourselves in what is good
+and virtuous."
+
+"One word more, sir. The revelations of Louise Morel have evidently
+proved to me her innocence. Can you inform me how her pretended crime
+has been discovered, or rather denounced?"
+
+"This morning," said the magistrate, "a woman in the employ of M.
+Ferrand, notary, came and declared to me that, after the precipitate
+flight of Louise Morel, who she knew was _enceinte_, she had gone
+up into the chamber of this young girl, and that she had there found
+traces of a clandestine accouchement; after some investigations, some
+footsteps in the snow had led to the discovery of a newborn child
+interred in the garden. On the relation of this woman, I went to the
+Rue du Sentier. I found M. Jacques Ferrand very indignant that such a
+thing should have occurred in his house. The priest of Bonne Nouvelle
+Church, whom he had sent for, also declared to me that the girl Morel
+had acknowledged her fault before him one day; that she had implored
+the pity and indulgence of her master, and that, still more, he had
+often heard M. Ferrand give Louise Morel the most severe reprimands,
+predicting that, sooner or later, she would be ruined. 'A prediction
+which had just been realized so unfortunately,' added the priest. The
+indignation of M. Ferrand," continued the magistrate, "appeared to me
+so real, that I partook of it. He told me that, without doubt, Louise
+Morel had taken refuge at her father's. I came here at once; the crime
+being flagrant, I had the right to proceed to an immediate arrest."
+
+Rudolph restrained himself in hearing the indignation of M. Ferrand
+spoken of. He said to the magistrate, "I thank you a thousand times,
+sir, for your kindness and for the assistance you tender Louise. I
+shall conduct this unfortunate man to a lunatic hospital, as well as
+the mother of his wife." Then, addressing Louise, who yet kneeled
+before her father, trying in vain to restore him to reason, "Be
+resigned, my child, to go without embracing your mother; spare her
+this touching farewell. Be assured as to her welfare--nothing shall
+henceforth be wanting. I will find a woman who will take care of your
+mother, and your brothers and sisters, under the superintendence of
+your good neighbor, Miss Dimpleton. As to your father, nothing shall
+be spared, that his cure shall be rapid and complete. Courage, then;
+believe me, virtuous people are often harshly tried by misfortunes,
+but they always come out of these struggles purer, stronger, and more
+respected."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two hours after the arrest of Louise, the artisan and the old idiot
+were, by the orders of Rudolph, conducted to Charenton; they were to
+have chamber treatment, and receive particular care and attention.
+Morel left the house without assistance; indifferent, he went where
+they took him; his madness was inoffensive and sad. The grand mother
+had hunger; they showed her food; she followed this food.
+
+The diamonds and rubies confided to the wife of the artisan were the
+same day given to Mrs. Mathieu, the broker, who came to get them.
+Unfortunately, this woman was watched and followed by Tortillard, who
+knew the value of the pretended false jewels, from a conversation he
+had overheard when Morel was arrested by the bailiffs. The son of
+Bras-Rouge (Red Arm) ascertained that she lived at No. 11 Boulevard
+Saint Denis.
+
+Miss Dimpleton informed Mrs. Morel, with much tact, of the lunacy of
+her husband and the imprisonment of Louise. At first she wept much,
+uttering sorrowful cries. Then, the first spasms of grief over, the
+poor creature, weak and unsettled, consoled herself by degrees in
+seeing herself and children surrounded by comforts which they owed to
+the generosity of their benefactor.
+
+Rudolph's thoughts were bitter in thinking of the revelations of
+Louise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+JACQUES FERRAND.
+
+
+At the time when the events passed which we relate, at one of the
+extremities of the Rue du Sentier could have been seen a long wall,
+much cracked, and covered with a coating of plaster, the top protected
+with pieces of broken glass. This wall, forming the boundary on this
+side of the garden of Jacques Ferrand, the notary, extended to a
+building situated on the street, of only one story and a garret. Two
+large brass plates, the sign of the notary's office, flanked the
+worm-eaten gate, the primitive appearance of which was no longer to be
+distinguished under the mud which covered it. This door led to a
+covered passage; on the right was the lodge of an old porter, half
+deaf, who was to the fraternity of tailors what Pipelet was to the
+boot-maker; on the left a stable, which served the purposes of a
+cellar, wash-house, wood-house, and of a growing colony of rabbits,
+lodged in a manger by the porter, who consoled himself from the pangs
+of a recent bereavement, in the death of his wife, by raising these
+domestic animals.
+
+Alongside the lodge was the crooked, narrow, and obscure staircase,
+leading to the office, as the clients were informed by a hand painted
+black, the forefinger pointing to these words on the wall "Office--
+Second Floor." On one side of a large paved court, overgrown with
+grass, were to be seen the unoccupied carriage-houses, on the other, a
+rusty iron railing, which inclosed the garden; at the end the
+pavillion, where the notary alone dwelt.
+
+A flight of eight or ten steps of tottering, disjointed stones,
+covered with moss and worn by time, led to this house, composed of a
+kitchen, and other offices under ground, two floors and an attic,
+where Louise had slept.
+
+This pavilion appeared also in a great state of decay; immense cracks
+were to be seen in the walls; the windows and blinds, once painted
+gray, had become with age almost black; the six windows of the first
+story, looking upon the court, had no curtains; the glasses were
+almost incrusted with dirt; on the ground floor they were rather
+cleaner, and were hung with faded yellow curtains, red-flowered. On
+the side toward the garden the pavilion had but four windows; two were
+walled up.
+
+This garden, overgrown with wild briers, seemed abandoned; not a
+single border, not a bed; a cluster of elms, five or six large trees,
+some acacias and alders, a yellow grass-plot, walks encumbered with
+brambles, and bounded by a high wall. Such was the sad aspect of the
+garden and habitation.
+
+To this appearance, or rather to this reality, Ferrand attached great
+importance. To vulgar eyes, a carelessness of comfort and prosperity
+passes almost always for disinterestedness; uncleanliness for
+austerity.
+
+Comparing the grand financial luxury of some notaries, or the reported
+toilets of their wives, to the gloomy mansion of M. Ferrand, so
+contemptuous of elegance and splendor, the clients felt a kind of
+respect, or, rather, of blind confidence for this man, who, from the
+number of his employers and the fortune he was supposed to possess,
+could have said, like many of his brethren, "My equipage, my
+country-house, my opera-box," etc., and who, far from that, lived with
+great economy; thus deposits, legacies on trust, investments, all those
+affairs in fine which depend upon the most tried integrity, or the
+most perfect good faith, flowed into the hands of Ferrand. In living
+as he did, the notary consulted his taste. He detested society, pomp,
+pleasures dearly bought; had it been otherwise, he would have, without
+hesitation, sacrificed his most lively wishes to the appearances which
+it was important to give himself. Some words on the character of this
+man. He was a son of the grand family of misers. Avarice is, above
+all, a negative, passive passion. Yet Jacques Ferrand risked, and
+risked much.
+
+He counted on his cunning--it was extreme; on his hypocrisy--it was
+profound; on his understanding--it was fertile and pliable; on his
+audacity--it was infernal--to assure impunity to his crimes, and they
+were already numerous.
+
+One single passion, or rather appetite, but most disgraceful, ignoble,
+shameful, but almost ferocious, raised him often to frenzy--lust.
+
+Save this weakness, Jacques Ferrand loved but gold He loved gold for
+the sake of gold.
+
+Not for the enjoyments it procured; he was stoical.
+
+Notwithstanding his great cunning, this man had committed two or three
+errors which the most crafty criminals hardly ever escape from.
+
+Forced by circumstances, it is true, he had two accomplices: this
+great fault, as he said himself, had been repaired in part; neither of
+his accomplices could betray him without betraying themselves; nor
+could any advantage be derived from their denouncing the notary and
+themselves to public vindictiveness. He was therefore on this head
+quite at rest.
+
+Some words now on the personal appearance of Ferrand, and we will
+introduce the reader into the notary's study, where he will find out
+the principal personages. Ferrand had passed his fiftieth year. He did
+not appear more than forty; he was of medium size, round-shouldered,
+square-built, strong, thick-set, red-haired, shaggy as a bear. His
+hair lay smooth on his temples, the top of his head was bald, his
+eyebrows hardly to be perceived; his bilious-looking skin was covered
+with large freckles; but when any lively emotion agitated it, this
+yellow, clayey visage filled with blood, and became a livid red.
+
+His face was as flat as a death's-head, his nose crushed down, his
+lips so thin, so imperceptible, that his mouth seemed cut in his face;
+when he smiled in a wicked and sinister manner, the ends of his teeth
+could be seen, black and decayed. Closely shaved to his temples, this
+man's countenance had an expression austere, sanctified, impassible,
+rigid, cold and reflecting; his little black eyes--quick, piercing,
+restless,--were hidden by large green spectacles.
+
+Jacques Ferrand had excellent sight, but under the shelter of his
+spectacles he had great advantages, observing without being observed;
+he knew how much a glance of the eye is often and involuntarily
+significant. In spite of his imperturbable audacity, he had
+encountered, two or three times in his life, certain powerful looks,
+before which he had been forced to quail. Now, in some circumstances,
+it is fatal to cast down your eye before the man who interrogates,
+accuses, or judges you. The large spectacles of Ferrand were therefore
+a kind of covered breastwork, from whence he could attentively examine
+the maneuvers of the enemy; for many such he had to encounter, because
+many found themselves more or less his dupes.
+
+He affected in his dress a negligence which reached to uncleanliness,
+or, rather, it was naturally rusty and mean. His face, shaved but once
+in two or three days, his dirty bald head, his black nails, old
+snuff-colored-coats, greasy hats, threadbare cravats, black woolen hose,
+and coarse shoes, recommended him singularly to his clients, by giving him
+an air of detachment from the world, and a perfume of practical
+philosophy, which charmed them. "To what pleasures--what passions--
+could the notary," said they, "sacrifice the confidence which was
+shown him? He gained, perhaps, sixty thousand francs a year, and his
+household was composed of a servant and an old housekeeper; his sole
+pleasure was to go every Sunday to mass and vespers; he knew no opera
+comparable to the solemn sounds of the organ, no company which could
+equal an evening passed at his fireside with the parish priest, after
+a frugal dinner. Finally, he placed his delight in his probity, his
+pride in his honor, his happiness in his religion."
+
+Such was the opinion of many concerning Jacques Ferrand, this good and
+excellent man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE OFFICE.
+
+
+His office resembled all offices, his clerks all other clerks. It was
+reached by an ante-chamber, furnished with four old chairs. In the
+office, properly so called, surrounded by shelves furnished with paper
+boxes, containing documents belonging to the clients of the notary,
+five young men, bending over desks of black wood, laughed, talked, or
+scribbled incessantly. An adjoining room, in which usually remained
+the head clerk, then an empty room, which, for the sake of secrecy,
+separated the notary's sanctum from the other offices, such was this
+laboratory of all kinds and sorts. Two o'clock had just struck by an
+old cuckoo clock, placed between the two windows of the office;
+agitation seemed to reign among the clerks, which some fragments of
+their conversation will explain.
+
+"Certainly, if any one had told me that Francois Germain was a thief,"
+said one of the young men, "I should have answered, `You are a liar!'"
+
+"And I!"
+
+"And I also!"
+
+"I! It produced such an effect on me to see him arrested and taken
+away by the guard that I could not eat my breakfast. I was
+recompensed, however, for it spared me from eating the daily mess of
+Mother Seraphin."
+
+"Seventeen thousand francs--it is a sum!"
+
+"A famous sum!"
+
+"And to think that for seventeen months, since he has been cashier, he
+never has been wanting a centime in his cash account!"
+
+"As for me, I think master was wrong to arrest Germain, since the poor
+fellow swore that he had only taken thirteen hundred francs in gold."
+
+"Yes. And so much the more, that he brought back the amount this
+morning at the moment the master had sent for the guard!"
+
+"That is the consequence of being of such a rigid probity as master.
+Such people are always without pity."
+
+"Never mind; one ought always to think twice before ruining a poor
+young man who always conducted himself well until now."
+
+"M. Ferrand would reply to that, 'It was for the sake of example.'"
+
+"Example of what? It is of no use to those who are honest; and those
+who are not, know well enough that they are likely to be discovered if
+they steal."
+
+"This house is, however, a good customer for the officer."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Why, this morning poor Louise; just now Germain."
+
+"As for me, the affair of Germain don't appear too clear."
+
+"But he has acknowledged it!"
+
+"He confessed that he had taken thirteen hundred francs--yes; but he
+maintained that he had not taken the remaining fifteen thousand francs
+in bank bills, and the remaining seven hundred francs that were
+missing."
+
+"Exactly; since he acknowledged one thing, why not the other?"
+
+"It is true, one is as much punished for five hundred as for fifteen
+thousand francs.".
+
+"Yes; but one keeps the fifteen thousand francs, and on coming out of
+prison, that makes a nice little establishment, a rogue would say."
+
+"Not so bad."
+
+"One may well say there is something in that."
+
+"And Germain, who always defended master when we called him a Jesuit!"
+
+"It is nevertheless true. 'Why hasn't master a right to go to mass?'
+he would say: 'you have the right to stay away.'"
+
+"Stop, here is Chalomel; now he will be astonished!"
+
+"About what! what! My good fellow, is there anything new concerning
+poor Louise?"
+
+"You would have known, lazybones, if you hadn't been absent so long."
+
+"Hold; you think it is only a hop, skip, and a jump from here to the
+Rue de Chaillot."
+
+"Well; this famous Viscount de Saint Remy?"
+
+"Has he not come yet?"
+
+"No."
+
+"His carriage was all ready, and his valet told me that he would come
+at once; but he did not appear pleased, the domestic said. Oh! that is
+a fine hotel; one might say it had belonged to the lords of the olden
+time, as are spoken of in Faublas. Oh! Faublas! he is my hero, my
+model!" said Chalomel, putting away his umbrella and taking off his
+overshoes.
+
+"I believe that this viscount is in debt, and there are writs out
+against him."
+
+"A writ for thirty-four thousand francs, which has been sent here,
+since it is here he must come to pay it; the creditor prefers it, why,
+I know not."
+
+"He must be able to pay it now, because he returned last night from
+the country, where he has been concealed for three days to escape the
+bailiffs."
+
+"But why did they not levy on his furniture?"
+
+"He is not such an ass! The house is not his; the furniture is in the
+name of his valet, who is looked upon as hiring him furnished
+lodgings, in the same way that his horses and carriages are in the
+name of his coachman, who says he lets them out to the viscount at so
+much per month. Oh! he is cunning, this Viscount de Saint Remy. But
+what is that you were talking about? Has anything new happened here?"
+
+"Just imagine--about two hours since, master came in here like a
+madman: 'Germain is not here?' cried he. 'No, sir.' 'Well! the
+scoundrel has robbed me, last night, of seventeen thousand francs!'
+continued the governor."
+
+"Germain steal! Come, come, draw it mild."
+
+"You shall see. 'How sir! are you sure? It is not possible!' we all
+cried.
+
+"'I tell you, gentlemen, that I put yesterday in the desk where he
+works fifteen notes of a thousand francs, besides two thousand francs
+in gold in a small box; all has disappeared.' At this moment Marriton,
+the porter, came in and said, 'The guard is coming.'"
+
+"And Germain?"
+
+"Stop a moment. The governor said to the porter. 'As soon as Germain
+comes, send him here, without telling him anything. I wish to confound
+him before you, gentlemen,' continued the governor. At the end of
+fifteen minutes poor Germain arrived, as if nothing was the matter.
+Mother Seraphin came to bring us our breakfast; she saluted the
+governor, and said good-day to us very tranquilly. 'Germain, do you
+not breakfast?' said M. Ferrand. 'No, sir, I am not hungry, I thank
+you.' 'You come very late!' 'Yes, sir, I have been to Belleville this
+morning.' 'To conceal, doubtless the money you have stolen from me,'
+cried M. Ferrand with a terrible voice."
+
+"And Germain?"
+
+"Oh! the poor boy became as pale as death, stammering, 'Sir, I beg
+you, do not ruin me."
+
+"He had stolen?"
+
+"Now, do wait, Chalomel. 'Do not ruin me,' said he to the governor.
+'You acknowledge then, wretch?' 'Yes, sir; but here is the money that
+is wanting. I thought I should be able to return it this morning
+before you were up; unfortunately, a friend, who had a small sum of
+mine, and whom I thought to find at home last night, had been at
+Belleville for two days. I was obliged to go there this morning, which
+has caused my delay. Pardon me, sir, do not ruin me! In taking this
+money, I knew I could return it this morning. Here are the thirteen
+hundred francs in gold.' 'You have robbed me of fifteen notes of one
+thousand francs each, that were in a green book, and two thousand
+francs in gold!' 'I! never!' cried poor Germain. 'I took the thirteen
+hundred francs, but not one penny more. I have seen no pocket-book in
+the drawer; there was only two thousand francs in gold in a box.' 'Oh!
+the infamous liar!' cried the master. 'You have stolen thirteen
+hundred francs, you could well steal more; justice will decide. Oh! I
+shall be without pity for such a frightful breach of confidence. It
+will be an example.' Finally, the guard arrived with an officer to
+make out a commitment; they carried him off, and that's all!"
+
+"Can it be possible? Germain, the cream of honest people!"
+
+"It has appeared to us quite as singular."
+
+"After all, it must be confessed, Germain was reserved; he never would
+tell where he lived."
+
+"That is true."
+
+"He always had a mysterious air"
+
+"That's no reason why he should steal the money."
+
+"Doubtless. It is a remark I make."
+
+"Ah! well, this is news! It is as if some one had given me a stunner
+on the head--Germain--who looked so honest; who would have died
+without confession!"
+
+"One would have said that he had a presentiment of his misfortune."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"For some time past he looked as if something troubled him."
+
+"It was, perhaps, concerning Louise."
+
+"Louise?"
+
+"Oh! I only repeat what Mother Seraphin said this morning,"
+
+"What?"
+
+"That he was the lover of Louise, and the--"
+
+"Oh! the cunning fellow."
+
+"Stop, stop, stop!"
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"It is not true!"
+
+"How do you know that, Chalomel?"
+
+"It is not two weeks since, that Germain told me, in confidence, that
+he was dead in love with a little sewing girl, whom he had known in
+the house where he lived; he had tears in his eyes when he spoke to me
+about her."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"He says that Faublas is his hero, and yet he is simple enough, stupid
+enough, not to comprehend that one can be in love with one and the
+love of another."
+
+"I tell you that Germain spoke seriously."
+
+At this moment the chief clerk entered the office.
+
+"Well," said he. "Chalomel, have you finished all your errands?"
+
+"Yes, M. Dubois, I have been to M. de Saint Remy: he will be here
+shortly to pay."
+
+"And to Countess M'Gregor?"
+
+"Likewise; here is the answer."
+
+"And to Countess d'Orbigny?"
+
+"She is much obliged; she arrived yesterday from Normandy, she did not
+expect an answer so soon; here is her letter. I have also been to the
+Marquis d'Harville's steward, as he required, for the charges of the
+contract I signed the other day at the hotel."
+
+"You told him that it was not pressing?"
+
+"Yes, but he would pay it. There is the money. Ah! I forgot that this
+card was here, below, at the porter's; the words in pencil written
+underneath by the porter; this gentleman asked for M. Ferrand; he left
+this."
+
+"'WALTER MURPHY,'" read the chief clerk; and then in pencil, "'_Will
+return at three o'clock on important business_.' I do not know this
+name."
+
+"Oh! I forgot," continued Chalomel; "M. Badinot said it was all right,
+that M. Ferrand should do as he pleased; that would be always right."
+
+"He did not give a written answer?"
+
+"No, sir, he said he hadn't time."
+
+"Very well."
+
+"M. Charles Robert will also come in the course of the day to speak to
+the governor; it appears he fought a duel yesterday with the Duke of
+Lucenay."
+
+"Is he wounded?"
+
+"I believe not, or they would have told me of it at his house."
+
+"Look! here is a carriage stopping."
+
+"Oh! the fine horses, are they not mettlesome."
+
+"And the fat English coachman, with his white wig and brown livery,
+with silver lace and epaulets like a colonel!"
+
+"An embassador, surely."
+
+"And the chasseur, has not he enough silver lace?"
+
+"And grand mustachios."
+
+"Hold!" said Chalomel, "it is the carriage of the Viscount de Saint
+Remy."
+
+"Ain't it stylish? Whew!"
+
+Soon afterward Saint Remy entered the office. We have described the
+charming face, the exquisite elegance, the ravishing bearing of Saint
+Remy, arrived the previous evening from Arnouville Farm, belonging to
+the Duchess Lucenay, where he had found a refuge from the bailiffs.
+
+Saint Remy entered the office hastily, his hat on, his manner haughty
+and proud, his eyes half closed, asking, in a very impertinent way,
+without looking at any one, "The notary? where is he?"
+
+"M. Ferrand is busy in his private office," answered the head clerk;
+"if you will wait a moment, sir, he will receive you."
+
+"I wait?"
+
+"But, sir----"
+
+"There are no 'but, sirs'; go and tell him that M. de Saint Remy is
+here. I find it very singular that this notary makes me wait in his
+antechamber; it smells of the stove."
+
+"Please to pass into the next room, sir," said the clerk; "I will go
+at once and inform M. Ferrand."
+
+Saint Remy shrugged his shoulders, and followed the head clerk. At the
+end of a quarter of an hour, which seemed to him very long, and
+changed his contempt into rage, Saint Remy was introduced into the
+cabinet of the notary. Nothing could be more curious than the contrast
+of these two men, both profound physiognomists, and generally
+accustomed to judge at a first glance with whom they had to deal.
+
+Saint Remy saw Jacques Ferrand for the first time. He was struck with
+the characteristics of this wan, rigid, impassible face; the
+expression concealed by the large green spectacles, the head
+half-hidden in an old black silk cap.
+
+The notary was seated before his desk in a leathern arm-chair, beside
+a broken-down fireplace, filled with ashes, in which were smoking two
+black stumps. Curtains of green muslin, almost in tatters, suspended
+from iron rods, concealed the lower part of the windows, and cast into
+this cabinet, already dark enough, a dull and disagreeable light.
+Shelves of black wood, filled with labeled boxes; some chairs of
+cherry wood, covered with yellow Utrecht velvet; a mahogany clock; a
+yellow, moist, and slippery floor; a ceiling filled with cracks, and,
+ornamented with garlands of spider-webs; such was the sanctum
+sanctorum of Jacques Ferrand.
+
+The viscount had not advanced two steps, had not said a single word,
+before the notary who knew him by reputation, hated him already. In
+the first place, he saw in him, so to speak, a rival in knavery; and,
+although Ferrand was of a mean and ignoble appearance himself, he did
+not the less detest in others elegance, grace, and youth; above all
+when an air deeply insolent accompanied these advantages.
+
+The notary ordinarily affected a sort of rudeness, almost gross,
+toward his clients, who only felt more esteem for him for these
+boorish manners. He promised himself to redouble this brutality toward
+the viscount.
+
+He, knowing M. Ferrand only by reputation, expected to find in him a
+kind of scrivener, good-natured or ridiculous, the viscount figuring
+to himself always that men of proverbial probity must be simpletons.
+Far from this, the other's looks imposed on the viscount an
+undefinable feeling, half fear, half hatred, although he had no
+serious reason to fear or hate him. Thus, in consequence of his
+resolute character, Saint Remy increased his insolence and habitual
+foppery of manner. The notary kept his cap upon his head; the viscount
+retained his hat, and cried from the door in a loud, sharp voice:
+
+"It is, by Jove! very strange, that you give me the trouble to come
+here, instead of sending to me for the money for the bills I have
+indorsed for this Badinot, for which the fellow has sued me. You
+should not expose me to wait a quarter of an hour in your antechamber;
+that is not so polite as it might be."
+
+Ferrand, without paying the least attention, finished a calculation he
+was making, wiped his pen methodically on the sponge which lay near
+his ink-stand, and raised toward the viscount his cold, unearthly,
+flattened face, encumbered with the green spectacles.
+
+It looked like a death's head, whose eyes had been replaced by great,
+fixed, glassy sockets. After having looked at him for a moment in
+silence, he said to the viscount, in a rough, short tone, "Where is
+the money?"
+
+Such coolness exasperated Saint Remy.
+
+He-he! the idol of the women, the envy of men, the paragon of the best
+company in Paris, the renowned duelist, not to produce more effect on
+a miserable notary! It was odious; although he was _tete-a-tete_
+with Jacques Ferrand, his self-pride revolted.
+
+"Where are the bills?"
+
+With the ends of his fingers, hard as iron, and covered with red hair,
+the notary, without answering, struck on a large portfolio of leather
+placed near him.
+
+Decided to be equally laconic, although bursting with rage, the
+viscount took from the pocket of his coat a small book of Russian
+leather, clasped with golden hasps, drew out forty-one thousand franc
+notes and showed them to the notary.
+
+"How much?" asked he.
+
+"Forty thousand francs."
+
+"Give them to me."
+
+"Here, and let us finish quickly, sir; do your business, pay yourself,
+hand me back the papers," said the viscount, throwing the packet
+impatiently on the table.
+
+The notary took them, arose and examined them near the window, turning
+them over one by one with an attention so scrupulous and so insulting
+to Saint Remy, that he grew pale with rage.
+
+The notary, as if he had suspected the thoughts which agitated the
+viscount, shook his head, half turned toward him, and said, in an
+undefinable tone, "There are such things as--"
+
+For a moment astonished, Saint Remy replied, dryly, "What?"
+
+"Counterfeits," answered the notary, continuing to examine those he
+held closely.
+
+"For what purpose do you make this remark to me, Sir?"
+
+Jacques Ferrand stopped a moment, looked steadily at the viscount
+through his glasses; then, shrugging his shoulders, he turned again to
+counting and examining the bills.
+
+"By George, Master Notary, you must know, when I ask a question, I am
+always answered!" cried Saint Remy, irritated beyond measure at the
+calmness of Jacques Ferrand.
+
+"_These_ are good," said the notary, turning toward his bureau,
+whence he took a bundle of stamped papers, to which were annexed two
+bills of exchange; he afterward placed one of the notes for a thousand
+francs and three rouleaux of one hundred francs on the back of the
+papers; then he said to Saint Remy, pointing his finger to the money
+and bills, "There is what is to come to you from the forty thousand
+francs; my client has ordered me to collect the bill of costs."
+
+The viscount had with great difficulty contained himself while Jacques
+Ferrand arranged his accounts. Instead of answering him and taking the
+money, he cried, in a voice trembling with anger, "I ask you, sir, why
+you said to me, respecting the bank bills that I have just given you,
+_that there were such things as forged notes?_"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Because I have sent for you here concerning a forgery." The notary
+turned his green glasses full on the viscount.
+
+"How does this forgery affect me?"
+
+After a moment's pause Ferrand said, with a severe tone, "Are you
+acquainted, sir, with the duties of a notary?"
+
+"The duties are perfectly clear to me, sir. I had just now forty
+thousand francs; I have now remaining but thirteen hundred."
+
+"You are very jocose, sir. I will tell you, that a notary is to
+temporal affairs what a confessor is to spiritual ones; from his
+profession he often knows ignoble secrets."
+
+"What next, sir?"
+
+"He is often obliged to be in relations with rogues."
+
+"What after this, sir?"
+
+"He ought, as much as in his power, to prevent an honorable name from
+being dragged in the mire."
+
+"What have I in common with all this?"
+
+"Your father has left you a respected name, which you dishoner, sir!"
+
+"What do you dare to say?"
+
+"But for the interest that this name inspires to all honest people,
+instead of being cited here before me, you would have been at this
+moment before the police."
+
+"I do not comprehend you."
+
+"About two months since, you discounted, through the agency of a
+broker, a bill for fifty-eight thousand francs, drawn by the house of
+Meulaert and Co., of Hamburgh, in favor of one William Smith, and
+payable in three months, at Grimaldi's, banker, in Paris."
+
+"Well!"
+
+"That bill is a forgery."
+
+"That is not true."
+
+"This bill is a forgery! the house of Meulaert has never contracted
+any engagement with William Smith; they do not know him."
+
+"Can it be true!" cried Saint Remy, with as much surprise as
+indignation, "but then I have been horribly deceived, sir, for I
+received this bill as ready money."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From William Smith himself; the house of Meulaert is so well known, I
+knew so well myself the probity of Smith, that I accepted this bill in
+payment of a debt he owed me."
+
+"William Smith has never existed; it is an imaginary person."
+
+"Sir, you insult me!"
+
+"His signature is as false as the others."
+
+"I tell you, sir, that William Smith does exist; but I have, without
+doubt, been the dupe of a horrible breach of confidence."
+
+"Poor young man!"
+
+"Explain yourself!" cried Saint Remy, whose anxiety and humiliation
+were increased by this ironical pity.
+
+"In a word, the actual holder of the bill is convinced that you have
+committed the forgery."
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"He pretends to have the proof; two days ago he came to me to beg me
+to send for you here, and to propose to return you this forged note,
+under an arrangement. So far, all was right; this is not; and I only
+tell you for information. He asks one hundred thousand francs. Today
+even, or to-morrow at noon, the forgery will be made known to the
+public prosecutor."
+
+"This is indignity!"
+
+"And what is more, absurdity. You are ruined. You were prosecuted for
+a sum that you have just paid me, from some resource I do not know of:
+this is what I told to this third party. He answered, 'That a certain
+great lady, who is very rich, would not leave you in this
+embarrassment.'"
+
+"Enough, sir, enough!"
+
+"Another indignity! another absurdity! we agree."
+
+"In short, sir, what do they want?"
+
+"Unworthily to take advantage of an unworthy action. I have consented
+to make this proposition known to you, in branding it as an honest man
+ought to brand it. Now it is your affair. If you are guilty, choose
+between the court of assize or the terms proposed. My part is
+altogether professional. I will have nothing more to do with so dirty
+a business. The third party's name is M. Petit Jean, oil merchant; he
+lives on the banks of the Seine, No. 10, Quai de Billy. Settle with
+him. You are worthy of each other, if you are a forger, as he
+affirms."
+
+Saint Remy had entered the notary's with an insolent voice and lofty
+head. Although he had committed in his life some disgraceful actions,
+there remained in him still a certain pride of lineage--a natural
+courage which had never failed him. At the commencement of this
+conversation, regarding the notary as an adversary quite unworthy of
+him, he treated him with contempt.
+
+When Jacques Ferrand spoke of forgery, the viscount felt himself
+crushed. He found the notary had the advantage in his turn. Except for
+his great self-command, he could not have concealed the great
+impression made upon him by this unexpected accusation, for the
+consequences might be most fatal to him, of which even the notary had
+no idea.
+
+After a moment's reflection and silence, he determined--though so
+proud, so irritable, so vain of his bravery--to throw himself on the
+mercy of this vulgar man, who had so roughly spoken the austere
+language of probity. "Sir, you give me a proof of interest for which I
+thank you; I regret the harshness of my opening words," said Saint
+Remy, in a cordial manner.
+
+"I do not interest myself in you at all," answered the notary,
+brutally. "Your father was honor itself; I did not wish to see his
+name in the court of assizes, that's all."
+
+"I repeat to yon, sir, that I am incapable of the infamy of which I am
+accused."
+
+"You can tell that to M. Petit Jean."
+
+"But I avow that the absence of Mr. Smith, who has so unworthily taken
+advantage of my good faith--"
+
+"Infamous Smith!"
+
+"The absence of Mr. Smith places me in a cruel position; I am
+innocent; let them accuse me, I will prove it, but such an accusation
+always injures a gallant man."
+
+"What next?"
+
+"Be generous enough to use the sum I have just paid you to quiet, in
+part, this third person."
+
+"This money belongs to my client--it is sacred."
+
+"But in two or three days I will repay you."
+
+"You cannot do it."
+
+"I have resources."
+
+"None available, at least. Your furniture, your horses, no longer
+belong to you, as you may say; which to me has the appearance of
+fraud."
+
+"You are very hard, sir. But admitting this, will I not turn
+everything into money, in a situation so desperate? Only as it is
+impossible for me to procure between this and to-morrow one hundred
+thousand francs, I conjure you, employ this money to withdraw this
+unhappy draught. Or you, who are so rich, make me an advance; do not
+leave me in such a position."
+
+"I make myself responsible for a hundred thousand francs for you!
+Really, are you a fool?"
+
+"Sir, I supplicate you, in the name of my father, of whom you have
+spoken, be so kind as to--"
+
+"I am kind for those who deserve it," said the notary, rudely; "an
+honest man; I hate sharpers; and I should not be sorry to see one of
+you fine gentlemen, who are without law or gospel, impious and
+debauched, some fine day, standing in the pillory as an example for
+others. But, I hear, your horses are very restless, sir viscount,"
+said the notary, smiling, and showing his black teeth.
+
+At this moment some one knocked at the door. "Who is it?" asked
+Jacques Ferrand.
+
+"Her ladyship the Countess d'Orbigny," said the clerk.
+
+"Beg her to wait a moment."
+
+"It is the step-mother of the Marquise d'Harville," cried Saint Remy.
+
+"Yes, sir. She has an appointment with me; so, good-morning."
+
+"Not a word of this, sir," said Saint Remy, in a threatening tone.
+
+"I have told you, sir, that a notary was as discreet as a confessor."
+
+Jacques Ferrand rang the bell, and the clerk appeared.
+
+"Show in her ladyship." Then, addressing the viscount, he added, "Take
+these thirteen hundred francs, sir; it will be so much on account with
+M. Petit Jean."
+
+Lady d'Orbigny (formerly Madame Roland) entered as the viscount went
+out, his features contracted with rage for having uselessly humiliated
+himself before the notary.
+
+"Oh, good-morning, Saint Remy!" said the countess; "it is a long time
+since I have seen you."
+
+"Yes, madame; since the marriage of D'Harville, of which I was a
+witness, I have not had the honor to meet you," said Saint Remy,
+bowing, and suddenly assuming a most smiling and affable expression.
+"Since then, you have always remained in Normandy?"
+
+"Dear me! yes. M. d'Orbigny cannot live now but in the country; and
+where he lives, I live. Thus you see in me a true 'county lady.' I
+have not been to Paris since the marriage of my dear step-daughter
+with excellent D'Harville. Do you see him often?"
+
+"D'Harville has become very savage and very morose. I meet him very
+seldom in society," said Saint Remy, with a shade of impatience; for
+this conversation was insupportable, both from its inopportuneness,
+and because the notary seemed to be much amused. But the stepmother of
+Madame d'Harville, enchanted at this meeting with a beau of society,
+was not the woman to let her prey escape so easily.
+
+"And my dear step-daughter," continued she, "is not, I hope, as savage
+as her husband?"
+
+"Madame d'Harville is very fashionable, and always much sought after,
+as a pretty woman should be; but I fear, madame, I trespass on your
+time, and--"
+
+"Not at all, I assure you. I am quite fortunate to meet the 'mold of
+form, the glass of fashion;' in ten minutes I shall know all about
+Paris, as if I had never left it. And your dear friend, De Lucenay,
+who was with you a witness of D'Harville's marriage?"
+
+"More of an original than ever; he set out for the East, and he
+returned just in time to receive yesterday morning a thrust from a
+sword; of no great harm, however."
+
+"The poor duke! and his wife, still beautiful and ravishing?"
+
+"You know, madame, that I have the honor to be one of her best
+friends; my testimony on this subject would be suspected. Will you,
+madame, on your return to Aubiers, do me the honor to remember me to
+M. d'Orbigny?"
+
+"He will be very sensible of your kind recollections, I assure you,
+for he often asks after you and your success. He says you remind him
+of the Duke de Lauzun."
+
+"This comparison alone is quite an eulogium; but, unfortunately for
+me, it is much more kind than true. Adieu, madame; for I dare not hope
+that you will do me the honor to receive me before your departure."
+
+"I should be distressed if you should take the trouble to call upon
+me. I am for a few days at furnished lodgings; but if, this summer or
+fall, you pass our way to some of the fashionable country-seats, grant
+us a few days only by way of contrast, and to rest yourself with some
+poor country-folks from the giddy round of the chateau life, so
+elegant and so extravagant; for it is always holidays where you go."
+
+"Madame----"
+
+"I need not tell you how happy D'Orbigny and myself would be to
+receive you; but adieu, sir: I fear that the benevolent humorist,"
+pointing to the notary, "will become tired of our talk."
+
+"Just the contrary, madame, just the contrary," said Ferrand, in an
+accent which redoubled the restrained rage of the viscount.
+
+"Acknowledge that M. Ferrand is a terrible man," continued Madame
+d'Orbigny; "but take care, since he is, fortunately for you, charged
+with your affairs, he will scold you furiously; he is without pity.
+But what do I say? A man like you to have M. Ferrand for notary--it is
+a sign of amendment: for every one knows he never lets his clients
+commit any follies without informing them of it. Oh! he does not wish
+to be the notary of every one." Then, addressing Jacques Ferrand, she
+said, "Do you know, Mr. Puritan, that this is a superb conversion you
+have made here--to render wise and prudent the king of fashion!"
+
+"It is exactly a conversion, madame; M. le Vicomte leaves ray cabinet
+altogether different from what he entered it."
+
+"When I say you perform miracles, it is not astonishing: you are a
+saint."
+
+"Oh, madame, you flatter me," said Jacques Ferrand.
+
+Saint Remy profoundly saluted Madame d'Orbigny; and at the moment of
+leaving the notary, wishing to try a last effort to soften him, he
+said, in a careless manner, which nevertheless disclosed profound
+anxiety:
+
+"Decidedly, my dear M. Ferrand, you will not grant me what I ask?"
+
+"Some folly, without doubt! Be inexorable, my dear Puritan," cried
+Madame d'Orbigny, laughing. "You hear, sir; I cannot act contrary to
+the advice of so handsome a lady."
+
+"My dear M. Ferrand, let us speak seriously of serious things, and you
+know that this is so. You refuse decidedly?" asked the viscount, with
+anguish he could not conceal.
+
+The notary was cruel enough to appear to hesitate; Saint Remy had a
+moment of hope.
+
+"How, man of iron, you relent?" said the step-mother of Madame
+d'Harville, laughing; "you submit also to the charms of the
+irresistible?"
+
+"Faith, madame, I was on the point of yielding, as you say, but you
+make me blush for my weakness," said Ferrand; then turning to the
+viscount, with an expression of which he comprehended all the
+signification, he continued, "There, seriously, it is impossible; I
+will not suffer that, through caprice, you should commit such an
+absurdity. M. le Vicomte, I regard myself as the mentor of my clients;
+I have no other family, and I should regard myself as an accomplice of
+any errors I should allow them to commit."
+
+"Oh! the Puritan, the Puritan!" cried Madame d'Orbigny.
+
+"Yet, see M. Petit Jean; he will think, I am sure, as I do; and, like
+me, he will refuse."
+
+Saint Remy left in a state of desperation. After a moment's thought,
+he said, "It must be!" Then, addressing his footman, who held open the
+door of the carriage, "To Lucenay House." While Saint Remy is on his
+way to the duchess, we will be present with the reader at the
+interview between Ferrand and the stepmother of Madame d'Harville.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE WILL.
+
+
+Madame D'Orbigny was a slender blonde, with eyebrows nearly white, and
+pale blue eyes, almost round; her speech honeyed, her look
+hypocritical, her manners insinuating and insidious.
+
+"What a charming young man is the Viscount de Saint Remy!" said she to
+Jacques Ferrand, when the viscount had gone.
+
+"Charming; but, madame, let us talk of business. You wrote me from
+Normandy that you wished to consult me on some grave affairs."
+
+"Have you not always been my adviser since good Dr. Polidori referred
+me to you? Apropos, have you heard from him?" asked Madame d'Orbigny,
+in a careless manner.
+
+"Since his departure from Paris he has not written me once," answered
+the notary, no less indifferently. We must inform the reader that
+these two personages lied most boldly to each other. The notary had
+seen Polidori recently (one of his two accomplices), and had proposed
+to him to go to Asnieres, to the Martials, the freshwater pirates (of
+whom we shall speak presently), under the name of Dr. Vincent, to
+poison Louise Morel. The stepmother of Madame d'Harville came to Paris
+expressly to have a conference with this scoundrel, who now went by
+the name of Caesar Bradamanti.
+
+"But it is not concerning the good doctor," said Madame d'Orbigny,
+"you see me much troubled; my husband is sick--he grows worse daily.
+Without causing me serious fears, his condition troubles me, or,
+rather, troubles him," continued she, wiping her tearless eyes.
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"He continually speaks of his final arrangements--of his will." Here
+Madame d'Orbigny hid her face in her handkerchief for some moments.
+
+"That is sad, doubtless," said the notary; "but this precaution is not
+alarming. What are his intentions, madame?"
+
+"How can I tell? You know well, when he touches on this subject I
+change it."
+
+"But has he said nothing positive?"
+
+"I believe," said Madaine d'Orbigny, in a most disinterested manner,
+"I believe he wishes not only to give me all the law allows--but--oh!
+hold, I beg you, let us not speak of this!"
+
+"What shall we speak of?"
+
+"Alas! you are right, relentless man; we must return to the sad
+subject which brought me here. Well, D'Orbigny carries his kindness so
+far as to wish to convert a part of his fortune, and give me a
+considerable sum."
+
+"But his daughter--his daughter?" cried Ferrand, with severity. "I
+ought to tell you that, for a year past, M. d'Harville has given me
+charge of his affairs. I have lately bought for him a magnificent
+property. You know my roughness in business. It imports little to me
+that M. d'Harville is my client; that which I plead is the cause of
+justice. If your husband takes toward his daughter, Madame d'Harville,
+a determination which seems to me not proper, I tell you plainly he
+must not count on me. Straightforward! such has always been my line of
+conduct."
+
+"And mine also. Thus I repeat to my husband always just as you have
+said: 'Your daughter has treated you badly; so be it; but that is no
+reason to disinherit her.'"
+
+"Very well--all right; and what did he answer?"
+
+"He answered, 'I will leave my daughter twenty-five thousand francs a
+year. She had more than a million from her mother; her husband has an
+enormous income. Can I not leave the rest to you, my tender friend,
+the sole support, the sole consolation of my old age, my guardian
+angel?' I repeat these too flattering words," said Madame d'Orbigny,
+with a modest sigh, "to show you his goodness toward me; yet I have
+always refused his offers; seeing which, he decided to beg me to come
+and find you."
+
+"But I do not know M. d'Orbigny."
+
+"But he, like every one else, knows your probity."
+
+"But how did he address you to me?"
+
+"To silence my scruples. He said, 'I do not ask you to consult my
+notary, you will think him too much under my orders; but I will leave
+it to the decision of a man whose honesty is proverbial, M. Ferrand.
+If he finds your delicacy compromised by your acceptance of my offer,
+we will talk no more about it; if not, you acquiesce.' 'I consent,'
+said I, and in this way you have become our arbitrator. 'If he
+approves,' added my husband, 'I will send him a power of attorney to
+realize, in my name, my real estate and bank stock; he will keep this
+sum on deposit, and, after my death, you will at least have an income
+worthy of you."
+
+Never, perhaps, had Ferrand felt more the value of his spectacles than
+at this moment. Without them, Madame d'Orbigny would have seen how his
+eyes sparkled at the word "deposit."
+
+He answered, however, in a morose tone, "This is troublesome; this is
+for the tenth or twelfth time that I have been chosen an arbiter,
+always under pretext of my probity; that is the only word in their
+mouths--my probity! my probity! Great advantage; it only gives me
+trouble and--"
+
+"My good M. Ferrand, come, don't scold; you will write to M.
+d'Orbigny; he awaits your letter, to send you his full power to
+realize the sum."
+
+"How much is it?"
+
+"He said, I believe, that it was about four or five hundred thousand
+francs."
+
+"The amount is not so large as I thought. After all, you have devoted
+yourself to M. d'Orbigny. His daughter is very rich--you have nothing;
+I can approve of this. It appears to me you might accept."
+
+"Really, you think so?" said Madame d'Orbigny, dupe, like every one
+else, of the proverbial honesty of the notary, and not undeceived in
+this respect by Polidori.
+
+"You may accept," said he.
+
+"I shall accept then," said Madame d'Orbigny, with a sigh.
+
+The clerk knocked at the door. "Who is it?" demanded Ferrand.
+
+"Her ladyship, the Countess M'Gregor."
+
+"Let her wait a moment."
+
+"I leave you, then, my dear M. Ferrand," said Madame d'Orbigny; "you
+will write to my husband, since he desires it, and he will send you
+full powers tomorrow."
+
+"I will write."
+
+"Adieu, my worthy and good counselor."
+
+"Ah! you people of the world do not know how disagreeable it is to
+take charge of such deposits--the responsibility which bears on us. I
+tell you there is nothing more detestable than this fine reputation
+for probity which brings one nothing but drudgery."
+
+"And the admiration of good people."
+
+"Praise the Lord! I place otherwise than here below the recompense I
+seek for," said Ferrand, in a sanctified tone.
+
+To Madame d'Orbigny succeeded Countess Sarah M'Gregor.
+
+Sarah entered the cabinet of the notary with her habitual coolness and
+assurance. Jacques Ferrand did not know her; he was ignorant of the
+object of her visit. He observed her very closely, in the hope to make
+a new dupe; and, notwithstanding the impassibility of the marble face,
+he remarked a slight tremor, which appeared to him to betray concealed
+embarrassment.
+
+The notary arose from his chair, and handed a seat to the countess,
+saying, "You asked for a meeting, madame, yesterday. I was so much
+occupied that I could not send you an answer until this morning; I
+make you a thousand excuses."
+
+"I desired to see you, sir, on business of the greatest importance.
+Your reputation has made me hope my business with you will be
+successful."
+
+The notary bowed in his chair. "I know, sir, that your discretion is
+well tried."
+
+"It is my duty, madame."
+
+"You are, sir, a rigid and incorruptible man."
+
+"Granted, madame."
+
+"Yet, if one should say to you, sir, it depends on you to restore
+life--more than life--reason to an unhappy mother, would you have the
+courage to refuse?"
+
+"State facts, madame, I will answer."
+
+"About fourteen years since, in December, 1824, a young man, dressed
+in mourning, came to propose to you to take, for an annuity, the sum
+of one hundred and fifty thousand francs, for a child of three years,
+whose parents desired to remain unknown."
+
+"Continue, madame," said the notary, avoiding a direct answer.
+
+"You consented to receive this amount, and to assure the child an
+income of eight thousand francs. The one-half of this amount was to be
+added to the capital until its majority; the other half was to be paid
+by you to the person who should take charge of this little girl."
+
+"Continue, madame."
+
+"At the end of two years," said Sarah, without being able to conquer a
+slight emotion, "the 28th November, 1827, this child died."
+
+"Before continuing this conversation, madame, I shall ask you what
+interest you have in this affair?"
+
+"The mother of this little girl is my _sister_, sir; I have here,
+for proof of what I advance, the publication of the death of this poor
+little thing, the letters from the person who had care of her, the
+receipt of one of your clients, with whom you placed the fifty
+thousand crowns."
+
+"Let me see these papers, madame."
+
+Quite astonished not to be believed at her word, Sarah drew from a
+portfolio several papers, which the notary closely examined.
+
+"Ah, well, madame, what do you want? The notice of the death is quite
+correct; the fifty thousand crowns became the property of M. Petit
+Jean, my client, by the death of the child; as to the interests, they
+were always punctually paid by me until its decease."
+
+"Nothing can be more correct than your conduct in this affair; sir, I
+am pleased to acknowledge it. The woman to whom the child was confided
+has also a right to our gratitude; she has taken the greatest care of
+my poor little niece."
+
+"That is true, madame; I was so much pleased with her conduct, that,
+after the death of the child, I took her in my service; she is still
+there."
+
+"Mrs. Seraphin is in your service, sir?"
+
+"For fourteen years, as housekeeper."
+
+"Since it is thus, sir, she can be of great assistance, if you will
+grant a demand which will appear strange, perhaps, even culpable at
+first; but, when you shall know with what intention--"
+
+"A culpable demand, madame; I do not think you are any more capable of
+making than I am of hearing it."
+
+"I know, sir, that you are the last person to whom one should address
+such a request; but I place all my hopes--my sole hope--in your pity.
+In every case I rely on your discretion."
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"I continue, then. The death of this poor little girl has cast her
+mother into such a state, her grief is as poignant at the present day
+as it was fourteen years since; and, after having feared for her life,
+to-day we fear for her reason."
+
+"Poor mother!" said Ferrand, with a sigh.
+
+"Oh! yes, very unfortunate mother, sir; for she could only blush at
+the birth of her daughter, at the time she lost her; while now
+circumstances are such, that my sister, if her child still lived,
+could own her, be proud of her, never leave her. Thus, this incessant
+regret, joined to other griefs, makes us fear for her reason."
+
+"Unfortunately, nothing can be done for her."
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"How, madame?"
+
+"Suppose some one should come and say to the poor mother. 'Your child
+was supposed to be dead; she is not; the woman who had care of her
+infancy can affirm it.'"
+
+"Such a falsehood would be cruel, madame. Why cause vain hopes to this
+poor mother?"
+
+"But if this was not a falsehood, sir; or, rather, if this supposition
+could be realized?"
+
+"By a miracle! If it only needed, to obtain it, my prayers joined to
+yours, I would pray from the bottom of my heart. Alas! there can be no
+doubt of her death."
+
+"I know it, alas! sir, the child is dead: and yet, if you wish it, the
+evil is not irreparable."
+
+"It is an enigma, madame."
+
+"I will speak, then, more plainly. If my sister finds to-morrow her
+child, not only will she be restored to health, but, what is more, she
+is sure to marry the father of this child, now as free as she is. My
+niece died at six years. Separated from her parents at this tender
+age, they have no recollection of her. Suppose that a young girl of
+seventeen could be found; that my sister should be told, 'Here is your
+child; you have been deceived; certain interests required that she
+should be thought dead. The woman who had charge of her, a respectable
+notary will affirm, will prove to you that it is she--'"
+
+Jacques Ferrand, after having allowed the countess to speak without
+interrupting her, rose suddenly, and cried, in an indigant manner,
+"Enough, enough, madame. Oh! this is infamous."
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"To dare to propose to me--to me--to palm off a child--a criminal
+action! It is the first time in my life that I have received such an
+outrage, and I have not deserved it--heaven knows."
+
+"But, who is wronged by it? My sister and the person she desires to
+marry are single; both regret bitterly the child they have lost; to
+deceive them is to restore to them happiness--life; it is to assure
+some forsaken young girl a most happy lot: thus it is a noble,
+generous action, and not a crime."
+
+"Truly," cried the notary, with increasing indignation, "I see how the
+most execrable projects can be colored with--"
+
+"But reflect."
+
+"I repeat to you, madame, that it is infamous. It is a shame to see a
+woman of your rank contriving such abominations, to which your sister,
+I hope, is a stranger."
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"Enough, madame, enough! I am not a gallant, not I. I tell you the
+naked truth."
+
+Sarah cast on the notary one of her dark looks, and said coldly, "You
+refuse?"
+
+"No new insult, madame!"
+
+"Take care!"
+
+"Threats?"
+
+"Threats! and to prove to you that they will not be in vain, learn, in
+the first place, that I have no sister."
+
+"What, madame?"
+
+"I am the mother of this child."
+
+"You?"
+
+"I invented this fable to interest you. You are without pity: I raise
+the mask. You want war! well, war be it."
+
+"War! because I refuse to lend myself to a criminal act? what
+audacity!"
+
+"Listen to me, sir; your reputation as an honest man is great--known
+far and near."
+
+"Because it is merited. You must have lost your reason before you
+would have dared to make such a proposition?"
+
+"Better than any one, I know, sir, how much one ought to suspect these
+reputations of such strict virtue, which often conceal the gallantries
+of women and the scoundrelism of men."
+
+"You dare to say this, madame?"
+
+"Since the commencement of our conversation, I do not know wherefore,
+I doubted that you deserve the consideration and esteem which you
+enjoy."
+
+"Truly, madame, this doubt does honor to your perspicacity."
+
+"Does it not so? for this doubt is founded on nothing--on mere
+instinct--on inexplicable presentiments; but rarely has this boding
+deceived me."
+
+"Let us finish this conversation, madame."
+
+"Before we do so, know my determination. I begin by telling you, that
+I am convinced of the death of my poor child; but, no matter, I will
+pretend she is not dead; the most unlikely events are often brought
+about. You are at this moment in such a position that you must have
+many envious rivals; they will regard it as a piece of good fortune to
+attack you. I will furnish means to them."
+
+"You!"
+
+"I, in attacking you under an absurd pretext, on an irregularity in
+the registry of death, let us say--no matter, I will maintain my child
+is not dead. As I have the greatest interest in having it believed
+that she still lives, although lost, this process will serve me in
+giving much notoriety to this affair; a mother who reclaims her child
+is always interesting; I shall have on my side those who are envious
+of you, your enemies, and all those who are feeling and romantic."
+
+"This is as foolish as wicked. Why should I? For what interest should
+I say your child is dead, if she were not?"
+
+"That is true, the motive is sufficiently embarrassing to find.
+Happily, lawyers are plenty. But a thought! ah! an excellent one:
+wishing to divide with your client the sum paid for the annuity, you
+have caused the child to be carried off."
+
+The notary, without moving a muscle of his face, shrugged his
+shoulders. "If I had been criminal enough to do that, instead of
+sending her off, I would have killed her!"
+
+[Illustration: THE DUEL]
+
+Sarah shuddered with surprise, remained silent for a moment, then
+resumed with bitterness: "For a holy man, that is a thought of crime
+profoundly deep! Have I touched to the quick in shooting at random?
+This sets me thinking. One last word: you see what kind of a woman I
+am--I crush without pity all who cross my path. Reflect well; to-morrow
+you must decide! you can do with impunity what you are asked.
+In his joy, the father of my child would not discuss the probability
+of such a resurrection, if our falsehoods, which will render him so
+happy, are adroitly combined. He has, besides, no other proofs of the
+death of our child, than what I wrote to him fourteen years since; it
+will be easy for me to persuade him that I deceived him on this
+subject; for then I had just cause of complaint against him. I will
+tell him that in my anger I wished to break, in his eyes, the last
+link which still held us together. You cannot therefore in any way be
+compromised; affirm only, irreproachable man, affirm that all has been
+concerted between you and me and Mrs. Seraphin, and you will be
+believed. As to the money placed with you, that concerns me alone; it
+shall remain with your client, who must be ignorant of all this;
+finally, you shall name your own recompense."
+
+Jacques Ferrand preserved all his coolness, notwithstanding his
+position, so strange and dangerous for him. The countess, believing
+really in the death of her child, came to ask him to represent as
+living this child, whom he had himself _passed for dead_ fourteen
+years before. He was too cunning, and knew too well the perils of his
+situation, not to comprehend the bearing of Sarah's threats. Although
+admirably constructed, the edifice of the notary's reputation was
+built on sand. The public as easily detach as they attach themselves,
+and are pleased with the right to trample under foot those whom they
+once had exalted to the skies. How foresee the consequences of the
+first attack on the reputation of Jacques Ferrand? However ridiculous
+this attack might be, its boldness alone might awaken suspicion.
+
+The pertinacity of Sarah, and her obduracy, alarmed the notary. This
+mother had not shown for a moment any feeling in speaking of her
+child; she had only seemed to consider her death as the loss of a
+means of action. Such dispositions are implacable in their objects,
+and in their vengeance. Wishing to give himself time to seek some
+means to avoid the dangerous blow, Ferrand said coldly to Sarah, "You
+have asked until noon to-morrow. It is I, madame, who give you until
+the next day to renounce a project, of which you know not the gravity.
+If, meanwhile, I do not receive a letter from you in which you
+announce that you have abandoned this foolish and criminal
+undertaking, you will learn to your cost that justice knows how to
+protect honest people who refuse to lend themselves to culpable acts."
+
+"That is to say, sir, that you demand one day more to reflect on my
+proposition? That is a good sign; I grant it to you. The day after
+to-morrow, at this hour, I will return here, and it shall be between us
+peace or war; I repeat it to you, a war to the knife, without mercy or
+pity;" and Sarah disappeared.
+
+"All goes well," said she to herself. "This miserable young girl, for
+whom Rudolph was so much interested--thanks to old One Eye, who has
+delivered me from her, is no longer to be feared. The skill of Rudolph
+has saved Madame d'Harville from the snare I placed for her, but it is
+impossible she can escape from the new plot I have contrived; she will
+then be forever lost to him. Then, sad, discouraged, isolated from all
+ties, will he not be in such a disposition of mind, that he will not
+desire anything better than to be the dupe of a falsehood, to which,
+with the aid of the notary, I can give every appearance of truth? And
+the notary will assist me for I have alarmed him. I can easily find a
+young orphan girl, interesting and poor who, instructed by me, will
+fill the part of our child, so bitterly regretted by Rudolph. I know
+the grandeur and generosity of his heart. Yes, to give a name and rank
+to her whom he believes to be his daughter, until then unhappy and
+abandoned, he will renew those ties which I had thought indissoluble.
+The predictions of my nurse will at length be realized, and I shall
+have this time surely attained the constant aim of my life--a crown."
+Hardly had Sarah left the mansion of the notary, than Charles Robert
+entered it, descending from an elegant cabriolet: he turned toward the
+private cabinet, as one having free admission.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+CHARLES ROBERT.
+
+
+The new-comer entered without any ceremony the notary's office, who
+was in a very thoughtful and splenetic mood, and who said to him very
+roughly, "I reserve the afternoon for my clients; when you wish to
+speak to me, come in the morning."
+
+"My dear scribbler" (this was one of the pleasantries of M. Robert),
+"it is concerning an important affair, in the first place, and then I
+wish to assure you myself concerning the fears that you might have."
+
+"What fears?"
+
+"Do you not know?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"My duel with the Duke de Lucenay. Are you ignorant of it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Why this duel?"
+
+"Something very serious, which required blood. Just imagine that, in
+the face of the whole embassy, M. de Lucenay allowed himself to say to
+me, to my face, that I had a cough, a complaint that must be very
+ridiculous."
+
+"You fought for this?"
+
+"And what the devil would you have one to fight for? Do you think that
+one could, in cold blood, hear one's self accused of having a cough?
+and before a charming woman, too; what is more, before a little
+marchioness, who, in brief--it could not be overlooked."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"We soldiers, you understand, we are always on the look out. My
+seconds, the day before yesterday, had an interview with those of the
+duke. I had the question placed very plainly; a duel or a retraction."
+
+"A retraction of what?"
+
+"Of the cough, by Jove, which he allowed himself to attribute to me."
+The notary shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"On their side the duke's seconds said, 'We render justice to the
+honorable character of M. Charles Robert; but his grace of Lucenay
+cannot, ought not, will not retract.' 'Then, gentlemen,' responded my
+seconds, 'M. de Lucenay still continues to insist that M. Charles
+Robert has a cough?' 'Yes, gentlemen; but he does not intend it as an
+attack upon M. Robert's reputation.' 'Then let him retract.' 'No,
+gentlemen; M. de Lucenay recognizes M. Robert for a gallant man, but
+he insists that he has a cough.' You see there was no way of arranging
+so serious an affair."
+
+"None. You were insulted in that which a man holds to be most
+respectable."
+
+"So they agreed on the day and hour of meeting, and yesterday morning
+at Vincennes, all passed in the most honorable manner. I touched the
+duke slightly in the arm with my sword; the seconds declared my honor
+satisfied. Then the duke said, in a loud voice, 'I never retract
+before an affair; afterward, it is different: it is therefore my duty
+to proclaim that I falsely accused M. Charles Robert of having a
+cough. Gentlemen, I confess, not only that my loyal adversary has no
+cough, but I affirm that he is incapable of ever having it.' Then the
+duke extended his hand to me cordially, saying, 'Are you content?
+Henceforth we are friends in life until death.' I answered, that I
+owed him as much. The duke has done everything that was right. He
+might have said nothing at all, or contented himself with saying that
+I had not the cough; but to affirm that I never could have one was a
+very delicate proceeding on his part."
+
+"This is what I call courage well employed. But what do you mean?"
+
+"My dear banker" (another pleasantry of M. Robert), "it concerns
+something of great importance to me. You know that in our agreement,
+when I advanced you 350,000 francs, in order that you might finish the
+purchase of your notariat, it was stipulated that, by giving you three
+months' notice, I could withdraw from you this amount for which you
+now pay interest."
+
+"What next?"
+
+"Well!" said M. Robert, with hesitation, "I; no, but--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"You perceive it is pure caprice; an idea to become a landed
+proprietor, my dear law-writer."
+
+"Explain yourself; you annoy me."
+
+"In a word, I have been offered a territorial acquisition, and, if it
+is not disagreeable to you I should wish, that is to say, I should
+desire, to withdraw my funds from you; and I come to give you notice,
+according to our agreement."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+"It does not make you angry, I hope!"
+
+"Why should it?"
+
+"Because you might think--"
+
+"I may think?"
+
+"That I am the echo of rumors."
+
+"What rumors?"
+
+"No, nothing; absurdities."
+
+"But, tell me then?"
+
+"It is no reason because there _are_ reports in circulation about
+you----"
+
+"About me?"
+
+"There is not a word of truth in it--that you have been doing some bad
+business; pure scandal, no doubt, like when we speculated on the
+'Change together. That report soon fell to the ground; for I wish that
+you and I might become----"
+
+"Then you think your money is no longer safe with me?"
+
+"Not so; but I prefer to have it in my hands."
+
+"Wait a minute."
+
+Ferrand shut the drawer of his bureau, and rose.
+
+"Where are you going to, my dear banker?"
+
+"To look for something to convince you of the truth of the rumors
+concerning me," said the notary, ironically. And opening a little
+private staircase which led to the pavilion, without going through the
+office, he disappeared.
+
+Hardly had he gone when the clerk knocked at the door. "Come in," said
+Charles Robert.
+
+"Is not M. Ferrand here?"
+
+"No, my worthy blue-baggist."
+
+"A veiled lady wishes to speak to master instantly, on very pressing
+business."
+
+"Worthy fellow, your master will return directly; I will tell him. Is
+she pretty?"
+
+"One must be a wizard to find this out; she wears a black veil, so
+thick that her face cannot be seen."
+
+"Good, good! I'll take a look at her when I go out."
+
+The clerk left the room.
+
+"Where the devil is he gone to?" said Charles to himself. "If these
+reports are absurd, so much the better. Never mind, I prefer to have
+my money. I will buy the chateau they have spoken to me of, with
+Gothic towers of the time of Louis XIV.; that will give me a noble
+appearance. It will not be like my affair with this prude of a Madame
+d'Harville--fine game! Oh, no; I have not made my expenses, as the
+stupid old portress in the Rue du Temple said, with her fantastic
+periwig. This pleasantry has cost meat least a thousand crowns. It is
+true, the furniture remains; and I can compromise the marquise. But
+here is the scrivener."
+
+Ferrand returned, holding in his hand some papers, which he gave to
+Robert.
+
+"Here," said he to him, "are three hundred and fifty thousand francs
+in Treasury notes. In a few days we will regulate the interest. Write
+me a receipt."
+
+"Eh!" cried Charles, stupefied. "Oh! now don't think, at least, that
+I--"
+
+"I think nothing."
+
+"But--"
+
+"This receipt!"
+
+"Dear sir."
+
+"Write; and tell the people who speak to you of my embarrassments how
+I answer such suspicions."
+
+"The fact is, as soon as this is known, your credit will only be the
+more solid. But, really, take the money; I cannot use it now; I said
+in three months."
+
+"M. Charles Robert, no one shall suspect me twice."
+
+"You are angry?"
+
+"The receipt."
+
+"Oh, obstinacy!" said Charles Robert; then he added, writing the
+receipt, "There is a lady closely veiled, who wishes to speak to you
+on some very pressing business. I shall take a good look at her when I
+pass. Here is your receipt; is it right?"
+
+"Very well; now go away by the little staircase."
+
+"But the lady?"
+
+"It is just to prevent your seeing her."
+
+The notary rang for the clerk, saying to him, "Show the lady in.
+Adieu, M. Robert."
+
+"Well, I must renounce seeing her. No ill-feeling, eh! scrivener?"
+
+"Believe as much."
+
+"Well, well! adieu."
+
+The notary shut the door on Charles Robert.
+
+After a few moments the clerk introduced the Duchess de Lucenay, very
+modestly dressed, wrapped in a large shawl, her face completely
+concealed by a thick veil of black lace, which covered her moire hat
+of the same color.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE DUCHESS DE LUCENAY.
+
+
+Madame de Lucenay slowly approached the desk, in an agitated manner;
+he advanced to meet her.
+
+"Who are you, madame, and what do you want with me?" said the notary,
+roughly, whose temper, already fretted by the threat of Sarah, was
+exasperated at the suspicions of Robert. Besides, the duchess was so
+modestly dressed, that the notary saw no reason why he should be civil
+to her. As she hesitated to speak, he said, even more harshly, "Will
+you explain yourself, madame?"
+
+"Sir," said she, in a trembling voice, trying to conceal her face
+under the folds of her veil, "Sir, can one confide a secret to you of
+the highest importance?"
+
+"Anything can be confided to me, madame, but I must see and know to
+whom I speak."
+
+"That, perhaps, is not necessary. I know that you are honor and
+loyalty itself."
+
+"Just so, madame, just so; there is some one there waiting. Who are
+you?"
+
+"My name is of no importance, sir. One of my friends--of my relations--
+has just left you."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"M. Floreston de Saint Remy."
+
+"Ah!" said the notary, casting on the duchess an inquisitive and
+searching glance; then he resumed: "Well, madame!"
+
+"M. de Saint Remy has told me everything, sir."
+
+"What did he tell you?"
+
+"All!"
+
+"But what did he say?"
+
+"You know well."
+
+"I know many things about M. de Saint Remy."
+
+"Alas! sir, a terrible thing."
+
+"I know a great many terrible things about M. de Saint Remy."
+
+"Ah! sir, he told me truly--you are without pity."
+
+"For cheats and forgers like him, yes, I am without pity. Is Saint
+Remy your relation? Instead of confessing it, you ought to blush. Do
+you come here to weep, to soften me? It is useless; without saying
+that you are performing a wretched part for an honest woman, if you
+are one."
+
+This brutal insolence was revolting to the pride and patrician blood
+of the duchess. She drew herself up, threw her veil back, and with a
+proud look, and a firm, imperious voice, she said, "Sir, I am the
+Duchess of Lucenay."
+
+This woman assumed so haughty an air, her appearance became so
+imposing, that the notary, overcome, charmed, fell back astonished;
+took off, mechanically, his black silk cap, and saluted her
+profoundly.
+
+Nothing could be, indeed, more graceful and more majestic than the
+face and bearing of Madame de Lucenay; yet she was then over thirty
+years of age, with a pale face, appearing slightly fatigued; but she
+had large sparkling brown eyes, splendid black hair, a fine arched
+nose, a proud and ruby lip, dazzling complexion, very white teeth,
+tall and slender figure, a form like a "goddess on the clouds," as the
+immortal St. Simon says.
+
+She had entered the notary's as a timid woman; all at once she showed
+herself a grand, proud, and irritated lady. Never had Jacques Ferrand
+in his life met with a woman of so much insolent beauty, at once so
+bold and so noble. Although old, ugly, mean, and sordid, Jacques
+Ferrand was as capable as any one else of appreciating the style of
+beauty of Madame de Lucenay. His hatred and his rage against Saint
+Remy augmented with his admiration of the charming duchess. He thought
+to himself that this gentleman forger, who had almost kneeled before
+him, inspired such love in this grand lady, that she risked a step
+which might ruin her. At these thoughts the notary felt his audacity,
+which for a moment was paralyzed, restored. Hatred, envy, a kind of
+burning, savage resentment kindled in his looks, on his forehead, and
+his cheeks--the most shameful and wicked passions. Seeing Madame de
+Lucenay on the point of commencing a conversation so delicate, he
+expected on her part some turnings, expedients. What was his surprise!
+She spoke to him with as much assurance and pride as if it was
+concerning the most natural thing in the world, and as if before a man
+of his species, she had no thought of the reserve and fitness which
+she had certainly shown to her equals. In fact, the gross insolence of
+the notary, in wounding her to the quick, had forced Madame de
+Lucenay, to quit the humble and imploring part that she had at first
+assumed with much trouble; returned to her own dignity, she believed
+it to be beneath her to descend to the least concealment with this
+scribbler of deeds.
+
+"Sir notary," said the duchess, resolutely, to Jacques Ferrand, "M. de
+Saint Remy is one of my friends; he has confided to me the
+embarrassing situation in which he finds himself, from the
+inconvenience of a double piece of villainy of which he is the victim.
+Everything can be managed with money. How much is necessary to
+terminate these miserable, shuffling tricks?"
+
+Jacques Ferrand was completely astounded with this cavalier and
+deliberate manner of opening the business.
+
+"They ask a hundred thousand francs," answered he, as soon as he had
+recovered from his astonishment.
+
+"You shall have your hundred thousand francs; and you will send at
+once the bad papers to M. de Saint Remy."
+
+"Where are the hundred thousand francs, your grace?"
+
+"Did I not tell you that you should have them, sir?"
+
+"They must be had to-morrow, before noon, madame; otherwise a
+complaint of forgery will be made."
+
+"Well, give this amount; I will be accountable for it; as for you I
+will pay you well."
+
+"But, madame, it is impossible."
+
+"You will not tell me, I hope, that a notary like you cannot procure a
+hundred thousand francs any day?"
+
+"On what security, madame?"
+
+"What does that mean? Explain yourself."
+
+"Who is to be answerable for this amount?" "I."
+
+"But, madame--"
+
+"Is it necessary for me to tell you that I have property yielding
+eighty thousand livres rent, at four leagues from Paris? That will
+suffice, I believe, for that which you call guarantee?"
+
+"Yes, madame, by means of a mortgage."
+
+"What does that mean again? Some formality, doubtless. Make it, sir,
+make it."
+
+"Such a deed cannot be drawn up under two weeks, and it needs the
+consent of your husband, madame."
+
+"But this is my property, mine--mine alone," said the duchess,
+impatiently.
+
+"No matter, madame; you are in the power of your husband, and a deed
+of mortgage is very long and very minute."
+
+"But once more, sir, you cannot make me believe that it so difficult
+to procure one hundred thousand francs in two hours."
+
+"Then, madame, apply to your own notary, to your steward; with me, it
+is impossible."
+
+"I have reasons, sir, to keep this a secret," said Madame de Lucenay,
+heartily. "You know the rogues who wish to rob M. de Saint Remy; it is
+on this account I address myself to you."
+
+"Your confidence infinitely honors me, madame; but I cannot do what
+you ask."
+
+"You have not this amount?"
+
+"I have much more than this sum in bank bills, or in gold--here--here,
+in my safe."
+
+"Oh, what a waste of words! Is it my signature you wish? I give it
+you; let us finish."
+
+"In admitting, madame, that you are the Duchess of Lucenay."
+
+"Come in an hour's time to the Hôtel de Lucenay, sir: I will sign at
+home what is necessary to be signed."
+
+"Will his grace sign also?"
+
+"I do not understand you, sir."
+
+"Your signature alone is of no value to me, madame."
+
+Jacques Ferrand enjoyed with cruel delight the impatience of the
+duchess, who, under the appearance of _sang froid_ and disdain,
+concealed the most painful anguish. She was for a moment at the end of
+her resources. The evening previous, her jeweler had advanced her a
+considerable sum on her diamonds, some of which were confided to
+Morel, the artisan. This sum had served to pay the bills of Saint
+Remy, and disarm other creditors; Dubreul, the farmer at Arnouville,
+was more than a year in advance, and besides, time was wanting;
+unfortunately for Madame de Lucenay, two of her friends, to whom she
+could have had recourse in an extreme situation, were then absent from
+Paris. In her eyes, the viscount was innocent; he had told her, and
+she believed it, that he was the dupe of two rogues; but her situation
+was none the less terrible. He accused, he dragged to prison! Then,
+even if he should take to flight would his name be any less dishonored
+by such a suspicion?
+
+"Since you possess the sum I ask for, sir, and my guarantee is
+sufficient, why do you refuse me?"
+
+"Because men have their caprices as well as women, madame."
+
+"But what is this caprice, which makes you act thus against your
+interest? for, I repeat to you, make your conditions; whatever they
+may be, I accept them!"
+
+"Your grace will accept all the conditions?" said the notary, with a
+singular expression.
+
+"All! two, three, four thousand francs--more, if you will; for I tell
+you," added the duchess, frankly, in a tone almost affectionate, "I
+have no resource but in you, sir--in you alone. It will be impossible
+for me to find elsewhere that which I ask you for to-morrow; and it
+must be--you understand--it must be absolutely. Thus, I repeat to you,
+whatever condition you impose on me for this service, I accept."
+
+In his blindness, he had interpreted in an unworthy manner the last
+words of the duchess. It was an idea as stupid as it was infamous; but
+we have already said that sometimes Jacques Ferrand became a tiger or
+a wolf; then the beast overpowered the man. He arose quickly and
+advanced toward the duchess. She, thunder-struck, rose at the same
+moment and regarded him with astonishment.
+
+"You will not regard the cost?" cried he, in a broken voice,
+approaching still nearer to the duchess. "Well, this sum I will lend
+to you on one condition, one single condition--and I swear that----"
+He could not finish his declaration.
+
+By one of those strange contradictions of human nature at the sight of
+the hideous face of M. Ferrand, at the mere thought of what his
+conditions might be, Madame de Lucenay, notwithstanding her
+inquietudes and troubles, burst out in a laugh so frank, so loud, so
+mirthful, that the notary recoiled confounded.
+
+Without giving him time to utter a word, the duchess, abandoning
+herself more and more to her hilarity, pulled down her veil, and
+between two renewed bursts of laughter, said to the notary, who was
+almost blind with rage, hatred, and fury, "I prefer, upon the whole,
+to ask this favor openly of the duke." She then went out, continuing
+to laugh so loudly that, though the door of the cabinet was closed,
+the notary could still hear her.
+
+Jacques Ferrand returned to his senses only to curse his imprudence
+bitterly. Yet, by degrees he reassured himself in thinking that the
+duchess could not speak of this interview without gravely compromising
+herself.
+
+Nevertheless, it was a bad day for him. He was buried in the blackest
+thoughts, when the private door of his cabinet was opened, and Mrs.
+Seraphin entered wildly.
+
+"Oh, Ferrand!" cried she, clasping her hands, "you were right enough
+in saying that we should some day regret having spared her life!"
+
+"Whose?"
+
+"That cursed little girl's."
+
+"How?"
+
+"A one-eyed woman, whom I did not know, to whom Tournemine delivered
+the little girl to rid us of her, fourteen years ago, when we said she
+was dead. Oh, who would have thought it!"
+
+"Speak!"
+
+"This woman has just been here; she was below just now. She told me
+she knew it was I who gave up the child."
+
+"Malediction! who could have told her? Tournemine is at the galleys."
+
+"I denied everything, treating her as a liar. But she maintains that
+she has found this child again, now grown up; that she knows where she
+is, and that it only depends upon herself to discover everything."
+
+"Is hell unchained against me to-day?" cried the notary, in a fit of
+rage that rendered him hideous.
+
+"What shall be said to the woman? What must we promise, to keep her
+silent?"
+
+"Does she look as if she were poor?"
+
+"As I treated her like a beggar, she shook her reticule--there was
+money in it."
+
+"And she knows where this young girl is now?"
+
+"She declares she knows."
+
+"And she is the daughter of Countess M'Gregor!" said the notary to
+himself, "who just now offered me so much to say that her child was
+not dead! And the child lives. I can restore her to her! Yes; but this
+false certificate of death--if any inquiry is made, I am lost! This
+crime may put them on the scent of others." After a moment's thought,
+he said to Madame Seraphin, "This one-eyed woman knows where the girl
+is?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And this woman will return to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Write to Polidori to be here to-night at nine o'clock."
+
+"Do you mean to get rid of the girl and the old woman? It will be too
+much for one time, Ferrand!"
+
+"I tell you to write to Folidori to be here to-night by nine o'clock."
+
+
+
+At the close of this day, Rudolph said to Murphy, who had not been
+able to see the notary, "Let M. de Graun send a courtier off at once.
+Cicily must be in Paris in six days."
+
+"Once more that infernal she-devil! the execrable wife of poor David,
+as handsome as she is infamous! For what good, your highness?"
+
+"For what good, Sir Walter? In a month's time you may ask this
+question of the notary, Jacques Ferrand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+DENUNCIATION.
+
+
+About ten o'clock in the evening of the day on which Fleur-de-Marie
+had been carried off by Screech-owl and the Schoolmaster, a man on
+horseback arrived at the farm, coming, as he said, on the part of
+Rudolph, to reassure Mrs. George as to the disappearance of her young
+_protegee_, who would return to her in a few days. For several
+very important reasons, added this man, Rudolph begged Mrs. George, in
+the event of her having anything to send him, not to write him at
+Paris, but to hand the letter to the courier, who would take charge of
+it.
+
+This courier was an emissary of Sarah's. By this she tranquilized Mrs.
+George, and retarded thus for some days the moment when Rudolph must
+hear of the abduction. In this interval, Sarah hoped to force the
+notary to favor the unworthy scheme of which we have spoken. This was
+not all. Sarah wished also to get rid of Madame d'Harville, who
+inspired her with serious fears, and who would have been lost but for
+Rudolph's rescue.
+
+On the day when the marquis had followed his wife to the house in the
+Rue du Temple, where she was to meet Charles Robert, but where Rudolph
+led her to the Morels, and thus changed the assignation into a call in
+charity, Sarah's brother Tom went there, easily set Mrs. Pipelet
+jabbering, and learned that a young lady, on the point of being
+surprised by her husband, had been saved, thanks to a lodger in the
+house named Rudolph. Informed of this circumstance, Sarah, possessing
+no material proof of the rendezvous that Lady d'Harville had given to
+Charles Robert, conceived another odious plan. It was concocted to
+send an anonymous letter to the marquis, in order to effect a complete
+rupture between him and Rudolph, or, at least, to make the marquis so
+suspicious as to forbid any further intercourse between the prince and
+his wife.
+
+This letter was thus couched:
+
+"You have been deceived most shamefully. The other day, your wife,
+advised that you were following her, pretended an imaginary visit of
+charity; she went to meet a very _august personage_, who has
+hired in the Rue du Temple a room in the fourth story, under the name
+of Rudolph. If you doubt these facts, strange as they may appear, go
+to the Rue du Temple, No. 17, and inform yourself; paint to yourself
+the features of the _august person_ spoken of, and you will easily
+acknowledge that you are the most credulous, good-natured husband
+who has ever been so _sovereignly_ deceived. Do not neglect
+this advice; otherwise it will be supposed that you, also are too much.
+
+    "THE FRIEND OF PRINCES."
+
+This note was put in the post at five o'clock by Sarah, on the day of
+her interview with the notary. The same evening, Rudolph went to pay a
+visit to a foreign embassy: after which it was his intention to go to
+Madame d'Harville's to announce to her that he had found a charitable
+intrigue worthy of her. We will conduct the reader to Madame
+d'Harville's. It will be seen, from the following conversation, that
+this young lady, in showing herself generous and compassionate towards
+her husband, whom she had until then treated with extreme coldness,
+followed already the noble counsels of Rudolph.
+
+The marquis and his wife had just left the table; the scene passed in
+the little saloon of which we have spoken; the expression of Clemence
+d'Harville was affectionate and kind; D'Harville seemed less sad than
+usual. He had not yet received the now infamous letter from Sarah.
+
+"What are you going to do to-night?" said he, mechanically, to his
+wife.
+
+"I shall not go out; pray what are your plans?"
+
+"I do not know," answered he, with a sigh. "Society is insupportable
+to me. I will pass this evening, like so many other evenings, alone."
+
+"Why alone, since I am not going out?"
+
+M. d'Harville looked at his wife with surprise. "Doubtless, but--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I know that you often prefer solitude when you do not go out."
+
+"Yes; but as I am very capricious," said Clemence, smiling, "at
+present I prefer to partake my solitude with you, if it is agreeable
+to you."
+
+"Really," cried D'Harville, with emotion, "how kind you are to
+anticipate what I dared not express."
+
+"Do you know, dear, that your astonishment has almost an air of
+reproach?"
+
+"A reproach? Oh, no, no! not after my unjust and cruel suspicions the
+other day. To find you so forgiving, it is, I confess, a surprise for
+me; but a surprise the most delightful."
+
+"Let us forget the past," said she to her husband, with an angelic
+smile.
+
+"Clemence, can you forget?" answered he, sadly. "Have I not dared to
+suspect you? To tell you to what extremity a blind jealousy has
+impelled me? But what is all this compared to other wrongs, still
+greater, more irreparable?"
+
+"Let us forget the past, I say," repeated Clemence, restraining her
+emotion.
+
+"What do I hear? The past also--can you forget it?"
+
+"I hope to do so."
+
+"Can it be true, Clemence, you can be so generous? But no, no, I
+cannot believe in so much happiness; I had renounced it forever."
+
+"You were wrong, you see."
+
+"What a change! Is it a dream? Oh, tell me I am not mistaken."
+
+"No, no, you are not mistaken."
+
+"And, truly, your look is less cold; your voice almost falters. Oh,
+say, is it true? Am I not under an illusion?"
+
+"No; for I also have need of pardon."
+
+"You!"
+
+"Have I not been cruel towards you! Ought I not to have thought that
+you must have needed a rare courage, a virtue more than human, to act
+differently from what you did? Isolated, unhappy, how resist the
+desire of seeking some consolation in a marriage which pleased you?
+Alas! when one suffers, one is so disposed to believe in the
+generosity of others! Your error has been, until now, to count on
+mine. Well, henceforth I will try to give you reason."
+
+"Oh, speak, speak once more!" said D'Harville, his hands clasped in a
+kind of ecstasy.
+
+"Our existence is forever united. I will do all in my power to render
+your life less bitter."
+
+"Is it you I hear?"
+
+"I beg you do not be so much astonished; it gives me pain; it is a
+bitter censure on my past conduct. Who else should pity you? Who
+should lend you a friendly and helping hand, if not I? A happy
+inspiration I have received. I have reflected, well reflected, on the
+past, on the future. I have seen my errors, and I have found, I
+believe, the means to repair them."
+
+"Your errors, poor wife?"
+
+"Yes; I should have, the next day after our marriage, appealed to your
+honor, and frankly demanded a separation."
+
+"Ah, Clemence, pity, pity!"
+
+"Otherwise, since I accepted my position, I should have augmented it
+by submission, instead of causing you constant self-reproach by my
+haughty and taciturn coldness. I should have endeavored to console you
+for a fearful malady, by only remembering your misfortune. By degrees
+I should have become attached to my work of commiseration, by reason
+even of the cares, perhaps the sacrifices, which it would have cost
+me; your gratitude had rewarded me, and then--but what is the matter?
+You weep!"
+
+"Yes, I weep--weep with joy. You do not know how many new emotions
+your words cause me. Oh, Clemence, let me weep!"
+
+"Never more than at this moment have I comprehended how culpable I
+have been in chaining you to my sad destiny!"
+
+"And never have I felt more decided to forget. These gentle tears that
+you shed make me acquainted with a happiness of which I was ignorant.
+Courage, dear, courage; in default of a fortunate and smiling destiny,
+let us seek our satisfaction in the accomplishment of the serious
+duties that fate imposes. Let us be indulgent to one another; if we
+falter, let us regard the cradle of our child, let us concentrate on
+her all our affections, and we shall yet have some joys, melancholy
+and holy."
+
+"An angel, she is an angel!" cried D'Harville, joining his hands and
+looking at his wife with affectionate admiration. "Oh! you do not know
+the pain and pleasure you cause me, Clemence! you do not know that
+your harshest words formerly, your most severe reproaches, alas! the
+most merited, have never so much overwhelmed me as this adorable,
+generous resignation, and yet, in spite of myself, you make hope
+spring up again. You do not know the future that I dare imagine."
+
+"And you can have blind and entire faith in what I tell you, Albert.
+This resolution is taken firmly; it shall never fail, I swear it to
+you. Before long I may give you new guarantees of my word."
+
+"Guarantees?" cried D'Harville, more and more excited by happiness so
+unlooked for, "guarantees! have I need of them? Your look, your voice,
+this beaming expression of goodness which still graces you, the
+throbbings of my heart, all, all prove to me that what you say is
+true. But you know, Clemence, man is insatiable in his hopes," added
+the marquis. "Your noble and touching words give me courage to hope,
+yes, to hope what yesterday I regarded as an insensate dream."
+
+"Albert, I swear to you I shall always be the most devoted of friends,
+the most tender of sisters; but nothing more. Pardon, pardon, if
+unknowingly my words have ever given you hopes which can never be
+realized."
+
+"Never?" cried D'Harville, fixing on her a desperate and supplicating
+look.
+
+"Never!" answered Clemence.
+
+This single word, the tone of voice, revealed an irrevocable
+resolution. Clemence, brought back to noble resolutions by the
+influence of Rudolph, was firmly resolved to surround her husband with
+the most touching attentions; but she felt that she was incapable of
+ever loving him. An impression still stronger than fright, contempt,
+hatred, separated Clemence from her husband forever. It was a
+repugnance invincible. After a moment of mournful silence, D'Harville
+passed his hand over his eyes, and said to his wife, bitterly:
+
+"Pardon me for deceiving myself; pardon me for having abandoned myself
+to a hope, mad as it was foolish. Oh! I am very unfortunate!"
+
+"My friend," said Clemence to him gently, "I do not wish to reproach
+you; yet do you reckon as nothing my promise to be for you the most
+tender of sisters? You will owe to the most devoted friendship
+attentions that love could not give you. Hope for better days. Until
+now you have found me almost indifferent to your sorrows; you shall
+see how I shall compassionate you, and what consolations you will find
+in my affection."
+
+A servant entered, and said to Clemence, "His Royal Highness the Grand
+Duke of Gerolstein asks if your ladyship will receive him?"
+
+Clemence looked at her husband, who, recovering his coolness, said to
+her, "Of course." The servant retired.
+
+"Pardon me, my friend," said Clemence; "I did not say that I would not
+receive. Besides, it is a long time since you have seen the prince; he
+will be happy to find you here. I shall, also, be much pleased to see
+him; yet I avow, that just now I am so agitated that I should have
+preferred to receive his visit some other day."
+
+"I can comprehend it; but what could we do? Here he is." At the same
+moment, Rudolph was announced.
+
+"I am a thousand times happy, madame, to have the honor to meet you,"
+said Rudolph; "and I doubly appreciate my good fortune, since it also
+procures me the pleasure of seeing you, my dear Albert," added he,
+turning toward the marquis, whom he cordially shook by the hand.
+
+"It is a long time since I have had the honor to pay your highness my
+respects."
+
+"And whose fault is it, invisible lord? The last time I came to pay my
+respects to Madame d'Harville, I asked for you; you were absent. It is
+now three weeks that you have forgotten me; it is very wrong."
+
+"Be merciless, your highness," said Clemence, smiling: "M. d'Harville
+is the more guilty, since he has for your highness the most profound
+respect, and he might make that doubted by his negligence."
+
+"Well! see my vanity, madame; whatever D'Harville might do, it would
+always be impossible for me to doubt his affection; but I ought not to
+say this. I am encouraging him in such conduct."
+
+"Believe me, your highness, that some unforeseen circumstances alone
+have prevented me from profiting oftener by your kindness toward me."
+
+"Between ourselves, my dear Albert, I believe you a little too
+platonic in friendship; very sure that you are loved, you are not
+pliant enough to give or receive proofs of attachment."
+
+Through a breach of etiquette, which rather annoyed Madame d'Harville,
+a servant entered, bringing a letter to the marquis. It was the
+anonymous denunciation of Sarah, which accused the prince of being the
+lover of Madame d'Harville.
+
+The marquis, out of deference to the prince, pushed back with his hand
+the silver salver which the servant handed him, and said, in an
+undertone, "Not now, not now."
+
+"My dear Albert," said the prince, in the most affectionate tone, "do
+you stand on ceremony with me?"
+
+"But, your highness--"
+
+"With the permission of Madame d'Harville, I beg you to read this
+letter!"
+
+"I assure your highness that there is nothing pressing."
+
+"Once more, Albert, read this letter!"
+
+"But--"
+
+"I entreat you--I wish it."
+
+"Since your royal highness requires it," said the marquis, taking the
+letter from the salver.
+
+"Certainly. I require you to treat me as a friend."
+
+Then turning toward the marchioness, while M. d'Harville broke the
+seal of this fatal letter, the contents of which Rudolph could not
+have imagined, he added, smiling, "What a triumph for you, madame, to
+cause this will, so stern, always to yield!"
+
+D'Harville drew near one of the candelabra on the chimney-piece, and
+opened the letter. Rudolph and Clemence conversed together, while
+D'Harville twice read the letter. His countenance remained composed; a
+nervous trembling, almost imperceptible, agitated his hands alone;
+after a moment's hesitation, he put the note into his waistcoat
+pocket.
+
+"At the risk of passing for a savage," said he to Rudolph, smiling, "I
+shall ask permission to go and answer this letter--more important than
+I thought at first."
+
+"Shall I not see you again to-night?"
+
+"I do not think that I can have that honor; I hope your royal highness
+will excuse me."
+
+"What a man!" said Rudolph gayly. "Will you not try to retain him,
+madame!"
+
+"I dare not attempt what your highness has attempted in vain."
+
+"Seriously, my dear Albert, try to return to us as soon as your letter
+is written; if not, promise to grant me an interview some morning. I
+have a thousand things to say to you."
+
+"Your royal highness overwhelms me," said the marquis, bowing
+profoundly as he retired.
+
+"Your husband is preoccupied," said Rudolph to the marchioness, "his
+smile appeared constrained."
+
+"When your royal highness arrived D'Harville was profoundly affected;
+he had great trouble to conceal it."
+
+"I have arrived, perhaps, at an inopportune moment."
+
+"No, you have even spared me the conclusion of a painful
+conversation."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"I have told D'Harville the new line of conduct that I was resolved to
+follow, promising him support and consolation."
+
+"How happy he should be!"
+
+"At first he was as much so as myself; for his tears and joy produced
+an emotion to which I had, as yet, been a stranger. Formerly I thought
+I revenged myself by addressing him a reproach, a sarcasm. Sad
+revenge! My sorrow afterward has only been more bitter. While just
+now--what a difference! I asked my husband if he were going out: he
+answered me sadly, that he should pass the evening alone, as was
+usually the case. When I offered to remain with him--Oh! if you could
+have seen his astonishment! how his expression, always sad, became at
+once radiant. Ah! you were right--nothing is more pleasing than to
+contrive such surprises of happiness!"
+
+"But how did these proofs of goodness on your part lead to this
+painful conversation of which you have spoken?"
+
+"Alas!" said Clemence, blushing, "to these hopes succeeded hopes more
+tender, which I was very guarded not to excite, because it will always
+be impossible for me to realize them."
+
+"I comprehend; he loves you tenderly."
+
+"As much as I was at first touched with his gratitude, so much was I
+alarmed at his protestations of love. I could not conceal my alarm. I
+caused him a sad blow in manifesting thus my invincible repugnance to
+his love, I regret it. But, at least, D'Harville is now forever
+convinced that he has only to expect from me the most devoted
+friendship."
+
+"I pity him, without being able to blame you; there are
+susceptibilities, thus to speak, which are sacred. Poor Albert, so
+good, so kind! If you knew how much I have been afflicted, for a long
+time past, with his sadness and dejection, although ignorant of the
+cause. Let us leave all to time, to reason. By degrees he will
+recognize the value of the affection you offer him, and he will be
+resigned to it, as he was resigned before having the touching
+consolations which you offer him."
+
+"And which shall never be wanting, I swear to your highness."
+
+"Now let us think of the other unfortunates. I have promised you a
+good work, having all the charm of a romance in action. I come to
+fulfill my engagement."
+
+"Already! what happiness!"
+
+"Ah! it was a kind of happy inspiration that induced me to take that
+poor room in the house of the Rue du Temple, of which I have spoken to
+you. You cannot imagine all that I find curious and interesting! In
+the first place, your _proteges_ of the garret enjoy the comforts
+your presence had promised them; they have, however, yet to undergo
+some sad trials; but I do not wish to make you sad. Some day you shall
+know how many horrible calamities may overwhelm one single family."
+
+"What must be their gratitude toward you!" "It is your name they
+bless."
+
+"Your highness has succored them in my name?"
+
+"To render the charity sweeter to them. Besides, I have only realized
+your promises."
+
+"Oh! I will go and undeceive them: tell them it is to you they owe--"
+
+"Do not do that! you know I have a room in that house: be guarded
+against any new cowardly acts of your enemies, or of mine; and since
+the Morels are now out of the reach of want, think of others. Let us
+think of our intrigue. It concerns a poor mother and her daughter,
+who, formerly in affluence, are at this time, in consequence of an
+infamous spoliation, reduced to the most frightful misery."
+
+"Unfortunate women! and where do they live, your highness?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"But how did you find out their situation?"
+
+"Yesterday I went to the temple. Your ladyship does not know what the
+Temple is?"
+
+"No, my lord."
+
+"It is a bazaar very amusing to see. I went there to make some
+purchases with my neighbor of the fourth floor."
+
+"Your neighbor?"
+
+"Have I not my room in the Rue du Temple?"
+
+"I forgot."
+
+"This neighbor is a charming little grisette; she calls herself
+Rigolette; this Miss Dimpleton is always laughing, and never had a
+lover."
+
+"What virtue for a grisette!"
+
+"It is not exactly from virtue that she is virtuous, but because, she
+says, she has no time to be in love; for she must work from twelve to
+fifteen hours a-day to earn twenty-five sous, on which she lives."
+
+"She can live on so small an amount?"
+
+"Rather; and she has even articles of luxury; two birds who eat more
+than she does; her little room is as neat as possible, and her dress
+really quite coquettish."
+
+"Live on twenty-five sous a-day! she is a prodigy."
+
+"A real prodigy of order, labor, economy, and practical philosophy, I
+assure you; hence, I recommend her to you. She is, she says, a very
+skillful seamstress. At all events, you would not be ashamed to wear
+the clothes she may make."
+
+"To-morrow I will send her some work. Poor girl! to live on so small a
+sum, and, so to speak, be unknown to us, who are rich, whose smallest
+caprices cost a hundred times that amount."
+
+"I am rejoiced that you have determined to interest yourself in my
+little _protegee_. I will now explain our new adventure. I had
+gone to the Temple with Rigolette, to purchase some furniture designed
+for the poor people in the garret, when, upon accidentally examining
+an old secretary which was for sale, I found the draft of a letter
+written by a female to some individual, in which she complained that
+herself and daughter were reduced to the greatest misery, on account
+of the dishonesty of a lawyer. The secretary was part of a lot of
+furniture, which a woman of middle age had been compelled by her
+penury to sell; and I was told by the dealer that the woman and her
+daughter seemed to belong to the upper classes of society, and to bear
+their reverses with great fortitude and pride."
+
+"And you do not know their abode?"
+
+"Unfortunately, no. But I have given orders to M. de Graun to endeavor
+to discover it, even if he is obliged to apply to the police. It is
+possible that, stripped of every thing, the mother and daughter have
+sought refuge in some miserably furnished lodgings. If it should be
+so, we have some hope, for the landlords report every evening the
+strangers who arrive in the course of the day."
+
+"What a singular concurrence of circumstances!" said Madame
+d'Harville, with astonishment.
+
+"This is not all. In a corner of this letter, found in the old
+secretary were these words, '_Write to Madame de Lucenay_.'"
+
+"What good fortune! perhaps we can find out something from the
+duchess," cried Madame d'Harville, with vivacity; then she continued,
+with a sigh, "But I am ignorant of the name of this woman--how
+designate her to Madame de Lucenay?"
+
+"You must ask if she does not know a widow, still young, of
+distinguished appearance, whose daughter, aged sixteen or seventeen,
+is named Claire."
+
+"I remember the name. The name of my own daughter! It seems to me a
+motive the more to interest me in their misfortunes."
+
+"I forgot to tell you that the brother of this widow committed suicide
+some months ago."
+
+"If Madame de Lucenay knows this family," said Madame d'Harville,
+"such information will suffice to bring them to her mind. How desirous
+I am of going to see her. I will write her a note to-night, so that I
+shall be sure to find her to-morrow morning. Who can these women be?
+From what you know of them, they appear to belong to the upper classes
+of society. And to find themselves reduced to such distress! Ah! for
+them poverty must be doubly frightful!"
+
+"By the robbery of a notary, a miserable scoundrel, of whom I already
+know many other misdeeds--Jacques Ferrand."
+
+"My husband's notary!" cried Clemence; "the notary of my step-mother!
+But you are deceived, my lord; he is looked upon as one of the most
+honorable men in the world."
+
+"I have proofs to the contrary. But do not, I pray you, say a word on
+this subject to any one; he is as crafty as he is criminal, and to
+unmask him, I have need that he shall not suspect, or rather, that he
+shall go on with impunity a short time longer. Yes; it is he who has
+despoiled these unfortunates, by denying a deposit which, from all
+appearances, had been placed in his hands by the brother of this
+widow."
+
+"And this sum?"
+
+"Was their sole resource! Oh! what a crime--what a crime!" cried
+Rudolph; "a crime that nothing can excuse--neither want nor passion.
+Often does hunger cause robbery, vengeance, murder. But this notary
+was already rich; and, clothed by society with a character almost
+holy, which imposes, ay, forces confidence, this man is induced to
+crime by a cold and implacable cupidity. The assassin only kills you
+once, and quickly, with his knife; he kills you slowly, by all the
+horrors of despair and misery into which he plunges you. For a man
+like this Ferrand, no patrimony of the orphan or savings of the poor
+are sacred! You confide to him gold; this gold tempts him; he makes
+you a beggar. By the force of privations and toil, you have assured to
+yourself bread, and an asylum for your old age; _the will_ of
+this man tears from your old age this bread and shelter. This is not
+all. See the fearful effects of these infamous spoliations; this widow
+of whom we speak may die of sorrow and distress; her daughter, young
+and handsome, without support, without resources, accustomed to a
+competency, unfit, from her education, to gain a living, soon finds
+herself between starvation and dishonor! she is lost! By this robbery,
+Jacques Ferrand is the cause of the death of the mother, the ruin of
+the child! he has killed the body of one, he has killed the soul of
+the other; and this, once more I say it, not at once, like other
+homicides, but with cruelty, and slowly."
+
+[Illustration: BETWEEN DISHONOR AND HUNGER]
+
+Clemence had never heard Rudolph speak with so much bitterness and
+indignation; she listened in silence, struck by these words of
+eloquence, doubtless very sad, but which discovered a vigorous hatred
+of evil.
+
+"Pardon me, madame," said Rudolph, after a moment's pause; "I cannot
+restrain my indignation in thinking of the cruel fate which your
+future _protegees_ may have realized. Ah! believe me, the
+consequences of ruin and poverty are very seldom exaggerated."
+
+"Oh! on the contrary, I thank your highness for having, by these
+terrible words, still more augmented, if that is possible, the sincere
+commiseration I feel for these unfortunates. Alas! it is above all for
+her daughter she must suffer! oh! it is frightful. But we will save
+them--we will assure their future. I am rich, but not as much so as I
+could wish, now that I see a new use for money; but, if it is
+necessary, I will speak to D'Harville; I will make him so happy that
+he cannot refuse any of my new caprices. Our _protegees_ are
+proud, your highness says; I like them better for it: pride in
+misfortune always proves an elevated mind. I will find the means to
+save them, without their knowing that they owe the succor they receive
+to a benefactor. It will be difficult; so much the better! Oh! I have
+already a project; you shall see, your highness, you shall see that I
+am not wanting in address and cunning."
+
+"I already foresee the most Machiavelian combinations," said Rudolph,
+smiling.
+
+"But we must first discover them; how I wish it was to-morrow! On
+having Madame de Lucenay I will go to their old lodgings, I will
+question their neighbors; I will see for myself. I will ask
+information from everybody. I will compromise myself, if it is
+necessary! I shall be so proud to obtain by myself, and by myself
+alone, the result I desire: oh! I will succeed; this adventure is so
+touching. Poor women: it seems to me I feel more interest in them when
+I think of my child."
+
+Rudolph, touched with this charitable eagerness, smiled sadly on
+seeing this lady, so handsome, so lovely, trying to forget in noble
+occupations the domestic troubles which afflicted her; the eyes of
+Clemence sparkled with vivacity, her cheeks were slightly suffused;
+the animation of her gesture, of her speech, gave new attraction to
+her ravishing countenance. She perceived that Rudolph was
+contemplating her in silence. She blushed, cast down her eyes; then,
+raising them in charming confusion, she said, "You laugh at my
+enthusiasm? It is because I am impatient to taste those holy joys
+which are about to reanimate my existence, until now sad and useless.
+Such, without doubt, was not the life I dreamed of; there is a
+sentiment, a happiness, more lively still that I can never know;
+although still very young, I must renounce it!" added Clemence,
+suppressing a sigh. "But thanks to you, my deliverer, always thanks to
+you, I have created for myself other interests; charity shall replace
+love. I am already indebted to your advice for such touching emotions!
+Your words, your highness, have so much influence! The more I
+meditate, the more I reflect on your ideas, the more I find them just,
+great, and fruitful. Oh! how much goodness your mind discloses! from
+what source have you, then, drawn these feelings of tender
+commiseration?"
+
+"I have suffered much, I still suffer! This is the reason I know the
+cause of many sorrows."
+
+"Your highness unhappy!"
+
+"Yes, for one would say that, to prepare me to solace all kinds of
+sorrow, fate has willed I should undergo them all. A lover, it has
+struck me through the first woman that I loved with all the blind
+confidence of youth; a husband, through my wife; a son, it has struck
+me through my father; a father, through my child!"
+
+"I thought that the grand duchess did not leave you any child?"
+
+"She did not; but before my marriage with her I had a daughter, who
+died very young. Well! strange as it may appear to you, the loss of
+this child, whom I had hardly seen, is the sorrow of my life. The
+older I become, the more profound my regrets! Each year redoubles the
+bitterness. It seems to increase as her years would have increased.
+Now she would have been seventeen!"
+
+"And does her mother still live?" asked Clemence.
+
+"Oh! do not speak of her!" cried Rudolph. "Her mother is an unworthy
+creature, a being bronzed by egotism and ambition. Sometimes I ask
+myself if it were not better my child should be dead, than to have
+remained in the hands of her mother."
+
+Clemence experienced a kind of satisfaction in hearing Rudolph express
+himself thus. "Oh! I conceive," cried she, "how you doubly regret your
+daughter!"
+
+"I should have loved her so well! and, besides, it seems to me that
+among us princes there is always in our love for a son a kind of
+interest of race and name; but a daughter is loved for herself alone.
+And when one has seen, alas! humanity under the most sinister aspects,
+what delight to contemplate a pure and lovely being! to inhale her
+virgin purity, to watch over her with tender care! A mother the most
+fond and most proud of her daughter cannot experience this feeling;
+she is herself too similar to taste these ineffable delights; she will
+appreciate much more the manly qualities of a bold and noble boy. For,
+do you not find that that which renders, perhaps, still more touching
+the love of a mother for her son, a father for his daughter, is, that
+there is always in these affections a feeble being who has need of
+protection. The son protects the mother, the father protects the
+daughter."
+
+"Oh, it is true."
+
+"But, alas! why understand the ineffable joys, when one can never
+experience them?" said Rudolph, dejectedly. "But pardon me, madame; my
+regrets and my souvenirs have, in spite of myself, carried me away;
+you will excuse me?"
+
+"Ah! believe I partake of your sorrows. Have I not the right? Have you
+not partaken of mine? Unfortunately, the consolations that I can offer
+you are in vain."
+
+"No, no; the expression of your interest is sweet and salutary to me.
+It is weakness, but I cannot hear a young girl spoken of without
+thinking of her whom I have lost."
+
+"These thoughts are so natural! Hold, my lord; since I have seen you,
+I have accompanied, in visits to the prisons, a lady of my
+acquaintance, who is a patroness of the work of the young women
+confined at Saint Lazare; this house contains many culprits. If I were
+not a mother, I should have judged them, doubtless, with still more
+severity, while I now feel for them pity; much softened in thinking
+that, perhaps, they had not been lost, except for the state of poverty
+and neglect they had been in from their infancy. I do not know why,
+but after these thoughts it seemed to me I loved my child the more."
+
+"Come, courage," said Rudolph, with a melancholy smile: "this
+conversation leaves me quite reassured as to you. A salutary path is
+open to you; in following it, you will pass through, without
+stumbling, these years of trial, so dangerous for women, above all for
+a woman gifted as you are; your reward shall be great; you will still
+have to struggle and suffer-for you are very young--but you will renew
+your strength in thinking of the good you have done--of that which you
+still do."
+
+Madame d'Harville burst into tears. "At least," said she, "your
+assistance, your counsels, will never fail me?" "Far or near, I shall
+always take the deepest interest in all that concerns you; always, as
+much as depends upon me, I will contribute to your happiness: to the
+man's to whom I have vowed the most constant friendship."
+
+"Oh! thank your highness for this promise," said Clemence, drying her
+tears; "without your generous support, my strength would abandon me;
+but, believe me, I swear it here, I will constantly accomplish my
+duty."
+
+On these words, a small door, concealed behind the tapestry, was
+opened roughly. Clemence uttered a cry. Rudolph shuddered. D'Harville
+appeared pale and profoundly affected: his eyes were wet with tears.
+The first astonishment over, the marquis said to Rudolph, giving him
+Sarah's letter, "Your highness, here is the infamous letter which I
+received just now before you. I pray you to burn it after you have
+read it."
+
+Clemence looked at her husband with alarm. "Oh, this is infamous!"
+cried Rudolph, indignantly. "Yet there is something still more
+infamous than this anonymous scurrility--it is my own conduct." "What
+do you mean to say?" "A little while ago, instead of showing you this
+letter frankly, boldly, I concealed it from you; I pretended to be
+calm, while I had jealousy, anger, and despair in my heart; this is
+not all. Do you know what I did, my lord? I shamefully went and
+concealed myself behind this door to listen to you--to spy--yes, I
+have been wretch enough to doubt your honor. Oh! the author of this
+letter knows to whom he addresses it; he knows how weak my head is.
+Well, my lord, say, after hearing what I have just heard--for I have
+not lost a word of your conversation, and know why you go to the Rue
+du Temple--ought I not, on my knees, ask for pardon and pity? and I do
+it, my lord. I do it, Clemence; I have no more hope but in your
+generosity."
+
+"My dear Albert, what have I to pardon?" said Rudolph, extending both
+hands with the most touching cordiality. "_Now_ you know our
+secrets, I am delighted. I can preach to you at my leisure. I am your
+confidant by compulsion, and, what is still better, you are the
+confidant of Madeline d'Harville; that is to say, you now know all you
+have to expect from that noble heart."
+
+"And, Clemence, will you pardon me also?"
+
+"Yes: on condition that you will assist me in assuring your own
+happiness," and she extended her hand to her husband, who pressed it
+with emotion.
+
+"My dear marquis," cried Rudolph, "our enemies are unlucky; thanks to
+them, we are only the more intimate from the past. You never have more
+justly appreciated Madame d'Harville: she has never been more devoted
+to you; acknowledge that we are well avenged of the envious and
+wicked. That will answer while waiting for something better, for I
+divine from whence this came, and I am not accustomed to suffer
+patiently the injuries done to my friends. But this regards me. Adieu,
+madame; here is our _intrigue_ discovered; you will no longer be
+alone in assisting your _protegees_: be assured we will get up
+some new mysterious enterprise, which the marquis must be very cunning
+to discover."
+
+After having accompanied the prince to his carriage, to thank him
+again, the marquis retired to his own apartments without seeing
+Clemence again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+REFLECTIONS.
+
+
+It would be difficult to describe the tumultuous and contrary
+sentiments which agitated D'Harville when he found himself alone. He
+acknowleged with joy the falsity of the accusation against Rudolph and
+Clemence, but he was also convinced that he must renounce the hope of
+being loved by her. The more in her conversation with Rudolph Clemence
+had shown herself courageous and resolute to do good, the more he
+bitterly reproached himself for having, with guilty egotism, linked
+this unhappy lady to his fate. Far from being consoled from the
+conversation he had just heard, he fell into a state of sadness, of
+inexpressible despondency. There is in a life of opulence without
+employment this terrible disadvantage: nothing turns its attention,
+nothing protects the mind from brooding on its sorrows, on itself.
+Never being compelled to occupy itself with the necessities of the
+future, or the labors of each day, it remains entirely a prey to great
+mental afflictions. Being able to possess all that gold can procure,
+it desires or regrets violently that which gold alone cannot procure.
+
+The grief of D'Harville was desperate; for, after all, he desired
+nothing but what was just and lawful.
+
+To transports of vain anger succeeded a feeling of gloomy dejection.
+"Oh!" cried he, at once softened and cast down, "it is my fault, my
+fault! poor unhappy woman, I have deceived her, unworthily deceived
+her! She can, she ought to hate me; and yet, just now, again she
+evinced the most touching interest for me; but, instead of contenting
+myself with that, my foolish passions have carried me away. I became
+tender; I have spoken to her of my love, and hardly had my lips
+touched her hand, than she trembled with affright. If I could still
+have had any doubt of the invincible repugnance with which I inspire
+her, what she has just now said to the prince leaves me no illusion.
+Oh! it is frightful--frightful!
+
+"And by what right did she confide to him this hideous secret? it is
+an unworthy betrayal of confidence? By what right? Alas! by the same
+right as prisoners have to complain of their executioner. Poor girl!
+so young and lovely, all that she could find to say that was cruel
+against the horrible fate to which I have doomed her, is that such was
+not the lot she had dreamed of, and that she was very young to
+renounce love! I know Clemence; the word she has given me, which she
+has given to the prince, she will henceforth keep; she will be for me
+the most affectionate sister. Well! my position is not worthy of envy!
+to the cold and constrained feeling which existed between us, are
+going to succeed the most affectionate and the kindest relations,
+while she might have continued to treat me with a frozen contempt,
+without my daring to complain. Another torture! How I have suffered,
+my God! when I thought her guilty!--what terrible agony! But no, this
+fear is vain; Clemence has sworn not to fail in her duties; she will
+keep her promises; but at what a price! Just now, when she returned to
+me with her affectionate words, how her sad, soft, melancholy smile
+caused me pain! How much this return to her executioner must have cost
+her! Poor woman, how handsome she looked! For the first time I felt
+acute remorse, for until then her haughty coldness was her revenge.
+Oh, unfortunate man, unfortunate man that I am!"
+
+After a long sleepless night of bitter reflections, the agitation of
+D'Harville ceased as by enchantment.
+
+He awaited the day with impatience. As soon as it was morning, he rang
+for his valet, old Joseph. On entering the room, the latter heard his
+master, to his great astonishment, humming a hunting-song, a sign, as
+rare as it was sure, of D'Harville's good-humor.
+
+"Ah!" said the faithful servant, quite softened, "what a good voice
+your lordship has! what a shame you do not sing oftener!" "Really,
+Joseph, have I a good voice?" said D'Harville, laughing.
+
+"My lord might have a voice as hoarse as an owl or a rattle, I should
+still think he had a good voice."
+
+"Hold your tongue, flatterer!"
+
+"When your lordship sings, it is a sign you are contented; and then
+your voice appears to me the most charming music in the world."
+
+"In that case, Joseph, learn to open your long ears."
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"You can enjoy this charming music every day."
+
+"You will be happy every day, my lord?" cried Joseph, clasping his
+hands with astonished delight.
+
+"Every day, my old Joseph! happy every day. Yes, no more sorrow--no
+more sadness. I can tell this to you, who are sole and discreet
+confidant of all my sorrows! I am overjoyed with happiness! My wife is
+an angel of goodness! she has asked pardon for her past coldness,
+attributing it to--can you guess?--to jealousy!"
+
+"To jealousy?"
+
+"Yes; absurd suspicions, caused by anonymous letters."
+
+"What indignity!"
+
+"You comprehend? women have so much self-love! It needed nothing more
+to separate us; but, happily, last night we had an explanation. I
+undeceived her; to tell you of her joy would be impossible; for she
+loves me! oh, how she loves me! Thus, this cruel separation has
+ceased; judge of my joy!"
+
+"Can it be true?" cried Joseph, with tears in his eyes. "Then, my
+lord, you are forever happy, since the love of her ladyship was alone
+wanting, as you have told me."
+
+"And to whom should I have told it, my poor old Joseph? Do you not
+possess a still more sorrowful secret? But let us not talk of sorrow;
+the day is too happy. You see, perhaps, I have wept! it is thus, you
+see, happiness overpowers me! I so little expected it! How weak I am!"
+
+"Yes, yes, my lord can well weep for joy, who has wept so much for
+sorrow. Hold! am I not acting as you are? Brave tears! I would not
+part with them for ten years of my life. I have only one fear: it is
+that I shall hardly be able to keep from throwing myself at my lady's
+feet the first time I see her."
+
+"Old fool! you are as unreasonable as your master. Now I have a fear
+that this will not last. I am too happy! what is wanting?"
+
+"Nothing, my lord, absolutely nothing."
+
+"It is on this account I am mistrustful of happiness so perfect--so
+complete!"
+
+"Alas! if it was not for--but no, I dare not."
+
+"I understand you: well, believe your fears are vain; the change that
+my happiness causes me is so great, so profound, that I am almost sure
+of being saved."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"My physician has told me a hundred times, that often a violent mental
+shock sufficed to induce or cure my malady. Why should not emotions of
+happiness produce the same effect?"
+
+"If you believe this, my lord, it will be so--it is so--you are cured!
+Why this is, indeed, a blessed day! Ah! as you say, her ladyship is a
+good angel descended from heaven; and I begin to be almost alarmed
+myself; it is, perhaps, too much felicity for one day; but I must
+think--if to reassure you it only needs a small sorrow--I have it!"
+
+"How?"
+
+"One of your friends has received, very fortunately and seasonably, as
+it happens, a sword cut--not at all serious, it is true; but no
+matter, it is enough to make you a little sorry, that there may be, as
+you desire it, a little trouble on this happy day. It is true, that in
+regard to that, it had been better if the thrust had been more
+dangerous; but we must be contented as it is."
+
+"Will you be quiet? Of whom do you speak?"
+
+"Of his grace the Duke of Lucenay. He is wounded! a scratch on the
+arm. He came yesterday to see you, and he said he would come this
+morning and ask for a cup of tea."
+
+"Poor Lucenay! why did you not tell me?"
+
+"Last night I was not able to see my lord."
+
+After a moment's thought, D'Harville replied, "You are right; this
+light sorrow will doubtless satisfy jealous destiny. But an idea has
+just struck me; I have a mind to have this morning a bachelor
+breakfast, all friends of M. de Lucenay, to congratulate him on the
+happy result of his duel: he will be enchanted."
+
+"Joy forever! Make up lost time. How many covers, so that I can give
+the orders?"
+
+"Six, in the little winter breakfast parlor."
+
+"And the invitations?"
+
+"I will go and write them. A man from the stables can take them round
+on horseback. It is early; they will all be found at home. Ring."
+
+D'Harville entered his cabinet, and wrote the following notes, without
+any other address than the name of the invited:--
+
+ "My Dear * * *--This is a circular; an impromptu affair is in
+ agitation. Lucenay is to come and breakfast with me this morning; he
+ counts only on a _tete-a-tete_; cause him a very agreeable
+ surprise by joining me, and a few other of his friends, whom I have
+ also advised.
+
+ "At noon precisely.
+
+   "A. D'HARVILLE."
+
+"Let some one mount a horse immediately," said D'Harville, to a
+servant who answered the bell, "and deliver these letters." Then,
+turning to Joseph, he directed him to address them as follows: "M. le
+Vicomte de Saint Remy. Lucenay cannot do without him," said D'Harville
+to himself. "M. de Monville--one of his traveling companions. Lord
+Douglas--his faithful partner at whist. Baron de Sezannes--the friend
+of his youth. Have you written?"
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Send these letters without losing a moment," said D'Harville.
+
+"Ah, Philippe! ask M. Doublet to come to me." The servant retired.
+"Well! what is the matter?" asked D'Harville of Joseph, who looked at
+him with amazement.
+
+"I cannot get over it, sir! I never saw you so gay; and, besides, you,
+who are commonly so pale, have a fine color--your eyes sparkle."
+
+"Happiness! old Joseph, happiness! Oh! now you must assist me in a
+scheme. You must go and find out from Juliette who has charge of her
+ladyship's diamonds."
+
+"Yes, it is Mademoiselle Juliette, my lord, who takes care of them; I
+helped her, not a week ago, to clean them."
+
+"You go and ask her the name and address of the jeweler of her
+mistress; but she must not say a word on the subject to my lady."
+
+"Ah! I understand! A surprise."
+
+"Go quickly. Here is M. Doublet. My dear M. Doublet, I am going to
+frighten you," said he, laughing. "I am going to make you utter cries
+of distress."
+
+"Me! my lord?"
+
+"You!"
+
+"I will do all in my power to satisfy your lordship."
+
+"I am going to spend a great deal of money, M. Doublet--an enormous
+amount of money."
+
+"What of that, my lord? We are able to do it--well able to do it."
+
+"For a long time I've been possessed with the notion of building. I
+have it in contemplation to add a gallery on the garden to the right
+wing of the hotel. After a long hesitation, I have quite decided. You
+must tell my architect to-day so that he can come and talk over the
+plans. Well, M. Doublet, you don't groan over this expense?"
+
+"I can assure your lordship that I do not groan."
+
+"This gallery will be destined for _fetes_; I wish it to be
+built, as it were, by enchantment; now, enchantments being very dear,
+you must sell fifteen or twenty thousand livres of stock, to be ready
+to furnish the funds, for I wish the work commenced as soon as
+possible." Joseph entered.
+
+"Here is the address of the jeweler, my lord; his name is Baudoin."
+
+"My dear M. Doublet, you will go, I beg you, to this jeweler, and tell
+him to bring here, in an hour, a diamond necklace worth about two
+thousand louis. Women can never have too many jewels, now that dresses
+are trimmed with them. You will arrange with the jeweler for the
+payment."
+
+"Yes, my lord. It is on account of the surprise that I do not groan
+this time. Diamonds are like buildings, the value remains; and,
+besides, this surprise to the marchioness! It is as I had the honor to
+say the other day--there is not in the world a happier man than your
+lordship."
+
+"Good M. Doublet!" said D'Harville, smiling; "his felicitations are
+always so inconceivably _apropos_"
+
+"It is their sole merit, my lord; and they have, perhaps, this merit
+because they come from the bottom of the heart. I go to the jeweler,"
+said Doublet, retiring.
+
+As soon as he was gone, D'Harville paced the floor, his arms folded,
+his eyes fixed and meditative.
+
+Suddenly his countenance changed; it no longer expressed the content
+of which the attendant and the old servant had just been the dupe, but
+a calm, cold, and mournful resolution. After having walked some time,
+he seated himself, as if overcome by the weight of his troubles, with
+his face buried in his hands. Then he suddenly arose, wiped away a
+tear which moistened his burning eyelid, and said, with an effort,
+"Come, courage."
+
+He wrote letters to several persons about insignificant objects, but
+in the letters he appointed or put off different meetings several
+days. This correspondence finished, Joseph came in; he was so gay that
+he so far forgot himself as to sing in his turn.
+
+"Joseph, you have a very fine voice," said his master smiling.
+
+"So much the worse, my lord, for I never knew it; something sings so
+loudly within that it must be heard without."
+
+"You will put these letters in the post-office."
+
+"Yes, my lord; but where will you receive these gentlemen?"
+
+"Here in my cabinet; they will smoke after breakfast, and the odor of
+the tobacco will not reach her lady-ship."
+
+At this moment the noise of a carriage was heard in the courtyard.
+
+"It is her ladyship going out; she ordered the horses this morning at
+an early hour," said Joseph.
+
+"Run and beg her to come here before she goes out."
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+Hardly had the domestic gone, than D'Harville approached a glass, and
+examined himself minutely. "Well, well," said he in a gloomy tone;
+"that's right--the cheeks flushed, the eye sparkling--joy or fear--no
+matter--as long as they are deceived. Let us see now--a smile on the
+lips. There are so many kinds of smiles. But who can distinguish the
+false from the real? who can penetrate under this lying mask, to say,
+this smile conceals a black despair? no one, happily, no one! Stay,
+yes, love could never be mistaken; no, its instinct would enlighten
+it. But I hear my wife--my wife! Come to your post, inauspicious
+buffoon."
+
+"Good-day, Albert," said Madame d'Harville, with a sweet smile, giving
+him her hand. "But what is the matter, my friend? You appear so happy
+and gay!"
+
+"It is, that at the moment you came in, dear little sister, I was
+thinking of you. Besides, I was under the influence of an excellent
+resolution."
+
+"That does not surprise me."
+
+"What took place yesterday--your admirable generity, the noble conduct
+of the prince--gave me much to think about, and I am a convert to your
+ideas. You would not have excused me last night if I had too easily
+renounced your love, I am sure, Clemence."
+
+"What language, what a happy change!" cried Madame d'Harville. "Oh! I
+was very sure that in addressing myself to your heart, to your reason,
+you would comprehend me. Now I have no longer any doubt for the
+future."
+
+"Nor I, Clemence, I assure you. Yes, since the resolution I have taken
+last night, the future, which seemed to me dark and gloomy, has become
+singularly cleared up--simplified."
+
+"Nothing is more natural, my friend; now we move toward one object,
+leaning fraternally on each other: at the end of our career we will
+find ourselves as we are to-day. In fine, I desire that you shall be
+happy, and this shall be so, for I have placed it there," said
+Clemence, putting her finger on his forehead, ere she resumed, with a
+charming expression, lowering her hand to his heart: "No, I am
+mistaken; it is here that this good thought will incessantly watch for
+you, and for me also; and you shall see what is the obstinacy of a
+devoted heart."
+
+"Dear Clemence," answered D'Harville, with constrained emotion; then,
+after a pause, he added gayly, "I begged you to come here before your
+departure to inform you that I could not take tea with you this
+morning. I have a number of persons to breakfast with me; it is a kind
+of impromptu assemblage to congratulate M. de Lucenay on the happy
+issue of his duel."
+
+"What a coincidence! M. de Lucenay comes to breakfast with you, while
+I go, perhaps very indiscreetly, to invite myself to do the same with
+Madame de Lucenay; for I have much to say to her about my unknown
+_protegees_. From there I intend to go to the prison of Saint
+Lazare, with Madame de Blinval, for you do not know all my ambition;
+at this moment I am intriguing to be admitted into the Discharged
+Prisoners' Aid Society."
+
+"Truly, you are insatiable," said the marquis; "thus," added he,
+restraining with great difficulty his emotion, "thus I shall see you
+no more--to-day!" he hastened to add.
+
+"Are you vexed that I go out this morning so early?" asked Madame
+d'Harville, quickly, astonished at the tone of his voice. "If you ask
+it, I will put off my visit to Madame de Lucenay."
+
+The marquis was on the point of betraying himself; but said, in the
+most affectionate manner, "Yes, my dear, I am as much vexed to see you
+go out as I shall be impatient to see you return; these are defects I
+shall never correct myself of."
+
+"And you will do well, dear; for I should be very angry."
+
+A bell announcing a visit resounded throughout the hotel.
+
+"Here are, doubtless, some of your guests," said Madame d'Harville; "I
+leave you--by the way, what are you going to do to-night? If you have
+not disposed of your evening, I wish you would accompany me to the
+opera; perhaps, now, music will please you more!"
+
+"I place myself under your orders with the greatest pleasure."
+
+"Are you going out soon? Shall I see you again before dinner?"
+
+"I am not going out. You will find me here."
+
+"Then, when I return, I will come and see if your bachelor breakfast
+has been amusing."
+
+"Adieu, Clemence."
+
+"By, 'by! I leave you the field clear; I wish you much pleasure. Be
+very gay!" And after having cordially pressed the hand of her husband,
+Clemence went out by one door a moment before M. de Lucenay entered by
+another.
+
+"She wishes me much amusement--she tells me to be gay--she went away
+tranquilly--smiling! this does honor to my dissimulation. By Jove! I
+did not think myself so good an actor. But here is Lucenay."
+
+The Duke de Lucenay entered the room; his wound had been so slight
+that he did not carry his arm in a sling. He was one of those men
+whose countenances are always cheerful and contemptuous, movements
+always restless, and mania to make a bustle insurmountable. Yet,
+notwithstanding his caprices, his pleasantries in very bad taste, and
+his enormous nose, he was not a vulgar man, thanks to a kind of
+natural dignity and courageous impertinence which never abandoned him.
+
+"How indifferent you must suppose me to be as regards anything
+concerning you, my dear Henry!" said D'Harville, extending his hand to
+Lucenay; "but it was only this morning I heard of your disagreeable
+adventure."
+
+"Disagreeable! come now, marquis! I got the worth of my money, as they
+say. I never laughed so much in my life! M. Robert appeared so
+solemnly determined not to pass for having a cold. You don't know what
+was the cause of the duel? The other night at the embassy, I asked
+him, before your wife and the Countess M'Gregor, how he got on with
+his cough; between us, he had not this inconvenience. But never mind.
+You understand--to say that before handsome women is annoying."
+
+"What folly! I recognize you there. But who is this M. Robert?"
+
+"I' faith! I don't know anything about him; he is a gentleman whom I
+met at the watering-places; he passed before us in the winter-garden
+at the embassy; I called him to play off this joke; he answered the
+second day after by giving me, very gallantly, a nice little thrust
+with his sword. But don't let us talk of this nonsense. I come to beg
+a cup of tea." Saying this, Lucenay threw himself at full length on
+the sofa; after which, introducing the end of his cane between the
+wall and the frame of a picture placed over his head, he commenced
+moving it backward and forward.
+
+"I expected you, my dear Henry, and I have arranged a little surprise
+for you."
+
+"Oh, what is it?" cried Lucenay, pushing the picture into a very
+ticklish position.
+
+"You'll end by pulling that picture on your head."
+
+"That's true, by Jove! you have the eye of an eagle. But your
+surprise, what is it?"
+
+"I have sent for some friends to breakfast with us."
+
+"Ah, good! marquis, bravo! bravissimo! archibravissimo!" screamed
+Lucenay, striking heavy blows on the sofa cushions. "And whom shall we
+have?"
+
+"Saint Remy."
+
+"No; he has been in the country for some days."
+
+"What the devil can he manage to do in the country in winter! Are you
+sure he is not in Paris?"
+
+"Very sure; I wrote him to be my second; he was absent; I fell back on
+Lord Douglas and Sezannes."
+
+"That is fortunate; they breakfast with us."
+
+"Bravo! bravo!" cried Lucenay, anew. Then he turned and twisted
+himself on the sofa, accompanying his loud cries with a series of
+somersaults that would have astonished a rope-dancer. The acrobatic
+evolutions were interrupted by the arrival of Saint Remy.
+
+"I have no need to ask if Lucenay is here," said the viscount, gayly.
+"He can be heard below."
+
+"How! is it you? beautiful sylvan! countryman! wolf's cub!" cried the
+duke, much surprised; "I thought you were in the country."
+
+"I came back, yesterday; I received the invitation just now, and here
+I am, quite delighted at this surprise," and Saint Remy gave his hand
+to Lucenay, and then to the marquis.
+
+"I take this very kind in you, my dear Saint Remy. Is it not natural
+that the friends of Lucenay should rejoice at the happy issue of this
+duel, which, after all, might have had a very grievous result?"
+
+"But," resumed the duke obstinately, "what have you been doing in the
+country in midwinter, Saint Remy? that beats me."
+
+"How curious he is!" said the viscount, addressing D'Harville. "I wish
+to wean myself from Paris, since I must so soon quit it."
+
+"Ah! yes, this beautiful whim to attach yourself to the legation of
+France at Gerolstein. None of your nonsense and stuff about diplomacy;
+you will never go there. My wife says so, and everybody repeats it."
+
+"I assure you that Madame de Lucenay is mistaken, like every one
+else."
+
+"She told you before me that it was a folly!"
+
+"I have committed so many in my lifetime!"
+
+"Elegant and charming follies, very well, so as to ruin yourself, as
+they say, by your Sardanapalus's magnificence--I admit that; but to go
+and bury yourself in such a hole of a court as Gerolstein! Come, now,
+this is folly, and you are too sensible to do a stupid thing."
+
+"Take care, my dear Lucenay; in abusing this German court you will
+have a quarrel with D'Harville, the intimate friend of the grand duke,
+who, besides, received me most kindly the other night at the embassade
+of----where I was presented to him."
+
+"Really! my dear Henry," said D'Harville, "if you knew the grand duke
+as I know him, you would comprehend that Saint Remy could have no
+repugnance to go and pass some time at Gerolstein,"
+
+"I believe you, marquis, although, your grand duke is said to be
+proudly original; but that doesn't prevent that a beau like Saint
+Remy, the finest flower among blossoms, cannot live, excepting at
+Paris; his value is only known at Paris."
+
+The other guests had just arrived, when Joseph entered, and said a few
+words in a low tone to his master.
+
+"Gentlemen, will you allow me," said the marquis; "it is the jeweler
+who brings me some diamonds to choose for my wife--a surprise. You
+know, Lucenay, you and I being husbands of the old schools."
+
+"Oh! if you talk of a surprise," cried the duke, "my wife gave me one
+yesterday; a famous one, I tell you."
+
+"Some splendid present?"
+
+"She asked me for a hundred thousand francs."
+
+"And as you are a magnifico, you--"
+
+"Lent them! they will be mortgaged on her Arnonville farm--short
+accounts make long friends. But never mind; to lend in two hours one
+hundred thousand francs to some one who wants them, is generous and
+rare. Is it not, spendthrift? You who are an expert at loans," said
+the Duke de Lucenay, laughing, without dreaming of the bearing of his
+speech.
+
+Notwithstanding his audacity, the viscount at first slightly blushed,
+but he said with effrontery, "One hundred thousand francs! enormous.
+How can a woman ever have need of such an amount. With men that's
+another story."
+
+"I don't know what she wanted with the money. It is all the same to
+me. Some bills, probably some urgent creditors; that's her look-out.
+And, besides, you well know, my dear Saint Remy, that in lending her
+my money, it would have been in the worst taste in the world to ask
+what she wanted it for."
+
+"It is, however, a very excusable curiosity in those who lend, to wish
+to know what the borrower wants to do with the money," said the
+viscount, laughing.
+
+"Saint Remy," said D'Harville, "you, who have such excellent taste,
+must aid me in choosing the set I intend for my wife; your approbation
+will sanction my choice--be it law."
+
+The jeweler entered, carrying several caskets in a large leather bag.
+
+"Ah! here is M. Baudoin!" said Lucenay.
+
+"At your grace's service."
+
+"I am sure that it is you who ruin my wife with your infernal and
+dazzling temptations," said Lucenay.
+
+"Her grace has only had her diamonds reset this winter," said the
+jeweler, slightly embarrassed. "I have this moment left them with her
+grace, on my way here."
+
+Saint Remy knew that Madame de Lucenay, to assist him, had changed her
+diamonds for false ones; this conversation was very disagreeable to
+him, but he said boldly, "How curious these husbands are! do not
+answer, M. Baudoin."
+
+"Curious! goodness, no," answered the duke; "my wife pays; she is
+richer than I am."
+
+During this conversation, Baudoin had displayed on a bureau several
+admirable necklaces of rubies and diamonds.
+
+"How splendid! how divinely the stones are cut!" said Lord Douglas.
+
+"Alas! my lord," answered the jeweler, "I employed in this work one of
+the best artisans in Paris; unfortunately, he has gone mad, and I
+shall never find his equal. My broker tells me that it is probably
+misery which has turned his brain, poor man."
+
+"Misery! you confide diamonds to a man in poverty!"
+
+"Certainly, my lord, and I have never known an instance of an artisan
+concealing or secreting anything confided to him, however poor he
+might be."
+
+"How much for this necklace?" asked D'Harville.
+
+"Your lordship will remark that the stones are of splendid cutting,
+and the purest water, almost all of the same size."
+
+"Here are some wordy precautions most menacing for your purse," said
+Saint Remy, laughing; "expect now, D'Harville, some exorbitant price."
+
+"Come, M. Baudoin, your lowest price?" said D'Harville.
+
+"I do not wish to make your lordship haggle, so I say the lowest is
+forty-two thousand francs."
+
+"Gentlemen!" cried Lucenay, "let us admire D'Harville in silence. To
+arrange a surprise for his wife for forty-two thousand francs! The
+devil! don't go and noise that abroad; it will be a detestable
+example."
+
+"Laugh as much as you please, gentlemen," said the marquis, gayly. "I
+am in love with my wife, I do not conceal it; I boast of it!"
+
+"That is easily seen," said Saint Remy; "such a present speaks more
+than all the protestations in the world."
+
+"I take this necklace, then," said D'Harville, "if you approve of the
+black enamel setting, Saint Remy."
+
+"It sets off to advantage the brilliancy of the stones; they are
+beautifully arranged."
+
+"I decide, then, for this necklace," said D'Harville. "You will have
+to settle with M. Doublet, my steward, Baudoin."
+
+"M. Doublet has advised me, my lord," said the jeweler, and he went
+out, after having put in his sack, without counting them, the
+different sets of jewels which he had brought, and which Saint Remy
+had for a long time handled and examined during this conversation.
+
+D'Harville, in giving this necklace to Joseph, who awaited his orders,
+whispered to him, "Mlle. Juliette must put these diamonds quietly with
+her lady's, without her suspecting it, so that the surprise will be
+complete."
+
+At this moment the butler announced that breakfast was served; the
+guests passed into the breakfast-room and seated themselves at the
+table.
+
+"Do you know, my dear D'Harville," said the duke, "that this house is
+one of the most elegant and best arranged in Paris?"
+
+"It is commodious enough, but it wants space; my project is to add a
+gallery on the garden. Madame d'Harville desires to give some grand
+balls, and our three saloons are not large enough; besides, I find
+nothing more inconvenient than the encroachments made by a fete on the
+apartments which one habitually occupies, and from which, for the
+time, you are exiled."
+
+"I am of your opinion," said Saint Remy; "nothing is in worse taste,
+more in the 'city' fashion, than these forced removals by authority of
+a ball or concert. To give fetes really splendid, without any
+inconvenience to one's self, a particular suite of apartments must be
+arranged exclusively for them; and, besides, vast and splendid
+saloons, destined for grand balls, ought to have a different character
+from rooms in ordinary occupation: there is between the two species of
+apartments the same difference as between a splendid fresco and a
+cabinet picture."
+
+"He is right," said D'Harville; "what a pity that Saint Remy has not
+twelve or fifteen hundred thousand livres a year! what wonders we
+should enjoy!"
+
+"Since we have the happiness to enjoy a representative government,"
+said the Duke de Lucenay, "ought not the country to vote a million a
+year to Saint Remy, and charge him to represent at Paris French taste
+and fashion, which would thus decide the fashion of Europe and the
+world?"
+
+"Adopted!" was cried in chorus.
+
+"And this million should be annually raised in form of a tax on those
+abominable misers who, possessors of enormous fortunes, shall be
+arraigned, tried, and convicted of living like skinflints," added
+Lucenay.
+
+"And as such," said D'Harville, "condemned to defray the magnificences
+which they ought to display."
+
+"While waiting for the decision which will legalize the supremacy
+which Saint Remy now exercises in fact," said D'Harville, "I ask his
+advice for the gallery I am about to construct."
+
+"My feeble lights are at your disposal, D'Harville."
+
+"And when shall this inauguration take place, my dear fellow?"
+
+"Next year, I suppose, for I am going to commence immediately."
+
+"What a man of projects you are!"
+
+"I have many others. I contemplate a complete change at Val Richer."
+
+"Your estate in Burgundy?"
+
+"Yes; there are some admirable plans to execute there, if my life is
+spared."
+
+"Poor old man! But have you not lately bought a farm near Val Richer
+to add to your estate?"
+
+"Yes, a very good affair that my notary advised."
+
+"Who is this rare and precious notary who advises such good things?"
+
+"M. Jacques Ferrand."
+
+At this name a slight shade passed over the viscount's brow.
+
+"Is he really as honest a man as he is reputed to be?" asked he,
+carelessly, of D'Harville, who then remembered what Rudolph had
+related to Clemence concerning the notary.
+
+"Jacques Ferrand? what a question; why, he is a man of antique
+probity!" said Lucenay. "As respected as respectable. Very pious--that
+hurts no one. Excessively avaricious--which is a guarantee for his
+clients."
+
+"He is, in fine, one of our notaries of the old school, who ask you
+for whom you take them when you speak of a receipt for money confided
+to them."
+
+"For no other cause than that I would confide my whole fortune to
+him."
+
+"But where the devil, Saint Remy, did you get your doubts concerning
+this worthy man, of proverbial integrity?"
+
+"I am only the echo of vague rumors, otherwise I have no reason to
+defame this phenix of notaries. But to return to your projects,
+D'Harville; what are you going to build at Val Richer? The chateau is
+said to be superb."
+
+"You shall be consulted, my dear Saint Remy, and sooner, perhaps, than
+you think, for I delight in these works; it seems to me there is
+nothing more pleasant than to have your plans spread out for years to
+come. To day this project--in a year this one--still later some other:
+add to this a charming wife whom one adores, is the motive of all your
+plans, and life passes gently enough."
+
+"I believe you; it is a real paradise on earth."
+
+"Now," said D'Harville, when breakfast was over, "if you will smoke a
+cigar in my cabinet, you will find some excellent ones there."
+
+They arose from the table and returned to the cabinet of the marquis:
+the door of his sleeping apartment, which communicated with it, was
+open. The sole ornament of this room was a panoply of arms. Lucenay,
+having lighted a cigar, followed the marquis into his chamber.
+
+"Here are some splendid guns, truly; faith, I do not know which to
+prefer, the French or the English."
+
+"Douglas," cried Lucenay, "come and see if these guns will not compare
+with the best Mantons."
+
+Lord Douglas, Saint Remy, and the two other guests entered the chamber
+of the marquis to examine the arms.
+
+D'Harville took a pistol, cocked it, and said, laughing, "Here,
+gentlemen, is the universal panacea for all woes, the spleen, or
+ennui." He placed the muzzle laughingly to his mouth.
+
+"I prefer another specific," said Saint Remy; "this is only good in
+desperate cases."
+
+"Yes, but it is so prompt," said D'Harville. "Click! and it is done;
+the will is not more rapid. Really! it is marvelous."
+
+"Take care, D'Harville, such jokes are always dangerous, and accidents
+might happen," said Lucenay, seeing the marquis again place the pistol
+to his lips.
+
+"Do you think that if it was loaded I would play these tricks?"
+
+"Doubtless, no, but it is always wrong."
+
+"Look here, sirs, this is the way they do it; the barrel is introduced
+delicately between the teeth, and then--"
+
+"How foolish you are, D'Harville, when you once get a-going," said
+Lucenay, shrugging his shoulders.
+
+"The finger is placed on the trigger," added D'Harville.
+
+"Is he not a child--childish at his age?"
+
+"A little movement on the lock," continued the marquis, "and one goes
+straight to the land of spirits."
+
+With these words the pistol went off.
+
+D'Harville had blown his brains out!
+
+We will renounce the task; we cannot describe the affright, the
+amazement, of the guests. The next day was seen in a newspaper:
+
+"Yesterday an event, as unforeseen as deplorable, agitated the whole
+Faubourg St. Germain. One of those imprudent acts, which lead every
+year to such fatal accidents, has caused a most lamentable affair.
+Here are the facts which we have gathered, the authenticity of which
+we can guarantee.
+
+"The Marquis D'Harville, possessor of an immense fortune, hardly
+twenty-six years of age, noted for the elevation of his character and
+the goodness of his heart, married to a lady whom he adored, had
+invited a few friends to breakfast. On leaving the table, they passed
+into the sleeping apartment of M. d'Harville, where were displayed
+several valuable arms. In showing some of his guests, M. d'Harville,
+in jest, placed a pistol, which he did not know was loaded, to his
+lips. In his security, he drew the trigger; it went off, and the
+unhappy young nobleman fell dead, with his skull fractured. The
+frightful consternation of the surrounding friends may easily be
+imagined, to whom, but a moment before, in the bloom of youth, he had
+just been conversing of his projects for the future. And as if all the
+circumstances attending this painful event should be more cruel from
+contrast, the same morning M. d'Harville, wishing to surprise his
+wife, had just purchased a valuable necklace. And it is just at this
+moment, when, perhaps, life never appeared more smiling, more
+desirable, that he falls a victim to a deplorable accident.
+
+"Before such a misfortune all reflections are useless; we can only
+remain, as it were, annihilated by the inscrutable decrees of
+Providence."
+
+We quote the papers merely to show that general belief attributed the
+death of D'Harville to a deplorable accident. It is hardly necessary
+to say, that D'Harville carried with him to the tomb the mysterious
+secret of this voluntary death. Yes, voluntary; calculated and
+meditated with as much coolness as genorosity, so that Clemence could
+not have the slightest suspicion of the true cause of this suicide.
+
+Thus the project of which D'Harville had conversed with his friends
+and his intendant, his confidential communications to his old servant,
+the surprise which he arranged for his wife, were just so many snares
+laid for public credulity.
+
+How could a man be supposed about to kill himself, who was so much
+occupied with plans for the future--so desirous of pleasing his wife?
+His death was therefore attributed, and could only be attributed, to
+an imprudence. As to the resolution, an incurable despair had dictated
+it.
+
+"My death alone can dissolve these ties--it must be--I shall kill
+myself." And this is the reason why D'Harville had accomplished this
+grave and melancholy sacrifice.
+
+If a suitable law of divorce had existed, would he have committed
+suicide? No! He would have repaired in part the evil he had done;
+restored his wife to liberty, permitted her to find happiness in
+another union. The inexorable immutability of the law, then, often
+renders certain faults irremediable; or, as in this case, only allows
+them to be effaced by a new crime.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+SAINT LAZARE.
+
+
+We think we ought to inform the most scrupulous of our readers that
+the prison of Saint Lazare, specially devoted to prostitutes and
+female thieves, is daily visited by several ladies, whose charities,
+name, and social position command general respect. These ladies,
+brought up amid the splendors of fortune, who with good reason are
+classed among the most elevated in society, come every week to pass
+long hours with the miserable prisoners. Observing in these degraded
+beings the least aspiration after virtue, the least regret for a past
+crime, they encourage the better tendencies and repentance; and, by
+the powerful magic of the words "duty," "honor," "virtue," sometimes
+they rescue from the depths of degradation one abandoned, despised,
+ruined being.
+
+Accustomed to the refinements of the best society, these courageous
+women leave their houses, pressing their lips to the virginal cheeks
+of their daughters, pure as the angels of heaven, and go to the gloomy
+prisons to brave the gross indifference, or the criminal conversation,
+of thieves and prostitutes.
+
+Faithful to their mission of high morality, they valiantly descend
+into the infected receptacle, place the hand on all these ulcerated
+hearts, and if some feeble pulsation of honor reveals to them the
+slightest hope of saving them, they contend and tear from an almost
+irrevocable perdition the wretch of whom they do not despair. The
+scrupulous reader, to whom we address ourselves, will calm, then, his
+sensibility, in thinking that he will only hear and see, after all,
+what these venerated women see and hear every day.
+
+After having, we hope, appeased the reader's scruples, we introduce
+him to Saint Lazare, an immense edifice, of imposing and gloomy
+aspect, situated in the Rue de Faubourg Saint Denis.
+
+Ignorant of the terrible drama that was passing at home, Madame
+d'Harville had gone to the prison, after having obtained some
+information from Madame de Lucenay concerning the two unhappy women
+whom the cupidity of Jacques Ferrand had plunged into distress. Madame
+de Blinval, one of the patronesses before spoken of, not being able to
+accompany Clemence to Saint Lazare, she came alone. She was received
+with much kindness by the director, and by several inspectresses,
+known by their black dresses and a blue ribbon with a silver medal.
+
+One of these, a woman of advanced age, of a soft and grave expression,
+remained alone with Madame d'Harville, in a small room adjoining the
+office.
+
+Madame Armand, the inspectress who had remained alone with Madame
+d'Harville, possessed to an extreme degree of foreknowledge and
+insight into the character of the prisoners. Her word and judgment was
+of paramount authority in the house.
+
+She said to Clemence: "Since your ladyship has been kind enough to
+request me to point out those inmates who, from good conduct or
+sincere repentance, should merit your interest, I believe I can
+recommend one unfortunate, whom I believe more unhappy than culpable;
+for I do not think I deceive myself in affirming, that it is not too
+late to save this girl, a poor child of sixteen, or seventeen at
+most."
+
+[Illustration: THE INSPECTION OF THE DORMITORY]
+
+"For what has she been confined?"
+
+"She is guilty of being found on the Champs Elysees in the evening. As
+it is forbidden her class, under very severe penalties, to frequent,
+either day or night, certain places, and the Champs Elysees is among
+the number of these prohibited places, she was arrested."
+
+"And she appears interesting to you?"
+
+"I have never seen more regular or more ingenuous features. Imagine,
+my lady, a picture of the Virgin. What gave still more to her
+appearance a most modest expression was, that when she came here she
+was dressed like a peasant girl of the environs of Paris."
+
+"She is, then, a country girl?"
+
+"No, my lady. The inspectors recognized her. She lived in a horrible
+house in the city, from which she was absent two or three months but
+as she had not her name erased from the police registers, she remained
+under the control of the officers, who sent her here."
+
+"But perhaps she left Paris to endeavor to reinstate herself?"
+
+"I think so. I felt at once interested in her. I interrogated her as
+to the past; I asked her if she came from the country, telling her to
+be of good cheer, if, as I hoped, she wished to return to the paths of
+virtue."
+
+"What did she reply?"
+
+"Lifting on me her large blue, melancholy eyes, full of tears, she
+said to me, in a tone of angelic sweetness, 'I thank you, madame, for
+your kindness, but I cannot speak of the past; I have been arrested--I
+was wrong--I do not complain.' 'But where do you come from? Where have
+you been since you left the city; if you have been to the country to
+seek an honest existence, say so; prove it: we will write to the
+police to obtain your discharge. You shall be erased from the police
+lists, and your good resolutions shall be encouraged.' 'I entreat you,
+madame, do not question me; I cannot answer you,' she replied. 'But
+when you leave here, do you wish to return to that horrible house
+again?' 'Oh, never,' she cried, 'What will you do then?' 'Heaven
+knows!' she replied, letting her head fall on her breast."
+
+"This is very strange! She expresses herself--"
+
+"In very good terms, madame; her deportment is timid, respectful, but
+without meanness. I will say more. Notwithstanding the extreme
+sweetness of her voice and her look, there is at times in her accent,
+in her attitude, a kind of sorrowful pride which confounds me. If she
+did not belong to the unhappy class of which she is a part, I should
+almost think that this pride is that of a soul conscious of its
+elevation."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+MONT SAINT JEAN.
+
+
+The clock of the prison struck two.
+
+To the severe frost which had reigned for some days, a temperature
+soft, mild, almost spring-like, had succeeded; the sunbeams were
+reflected on the water of a large square basin, with a stone margin,
+situated in the middle of the yard, planted with trees, and surrounded
+by high, gloomy walls, pierced with a number of grated windows; wooden
+benches were placed here and there in this vast inclosure, which
+served as the prisoners' exercise ground.
+
+The tinkling of a bell announcing the hour of recreation, the
+prisoners noisily rushed into the court through a strong wicket-door
+which was opened for them. These women, dressed in uniform, wore black
+caps and long blue woolen frocks, confined by a belt and iron buckle.
+There were two hundred prostitutes there, condemned for infringements
+of the laws which register them, and place them without the common
+law.
+
+At the sight of this collection of lost creatures, one cannot prevent
+the sad thought, that many among them have been pure and virtuous, at
+least some time. We make this restriction, because a great number have
+been vitiated, corrupted, depraved, not only from their youth, but
+from their most tender infancy.
+
+When the prisoners rushed into the court, screeching and shouting, it
+was easy to see that joy alone at escaping from labor did not render
+them so noisy. After having pushed through the only door that led to
+the yard, the crowd separated, and made a circle around a deformed
+being, whom they overwhelmed with hootings.
+
+She was a woman of about thirty-six or forty, short, thick-set,
+crooked, her neck sunk between unequal shoulders. They had pulled off
+her cap, and her hair, of a rather faded yellow, uncombed, tangled,
+striped with gray, fell over her low and stupid face. She was dressed
+in a blue frock, like the other prisoners, and carried under her arm a
+bundle tied up in a miserable, ragged handkerchief. She tried to ward
+off the threatened blows with her left arm.
+
+Nothing could be more sadly grotesque than the features of this poor
+creature. It was a ridiculous and hideous face, lengthened to a snout,
+wrinkled, tanned, and dirty, pierced with nostrils, and small red
+eyes, squinting and bloodshot; by turns supplicating or angry, she
+implored and scolded; but they laughed more at her complaints than at
+her threats. This woman was the butt of the prisoners. One fact alone,
+however, should have saved her from their bad treatment; she was about
+to become a mother. But her ugliness and imbecility, and the habit
+they had of looking upon her as a victim devoted to the general
+amusement, rendered her persecutors implacable, notwithstanding their
+ordinary respect for maternity.
+
+Among the most furious of the enemies of Mont Saint Jean (this was the
+name of the drudge) could have been remarked La Louve--a tall girl of
+about twenty, active, masculine, with rather regular features; her
+coarse, black hair was shaded with red; her face was disfigured with
+pimples; her thick lips were slightly covered with a bluish down; her
+dark eyebrows, very thick and heavy, met above her large brown eyes;
+something violent, ferocious, and brutal in her expression, a kind of
+habitual laugh, which, lifting her upper lip when she was angry,
+showing her white and scattering teeth, explains her surname of La
+Louve (She-Wolf). Nevertheless, this face expressed more audacity and
+insolence than cruelty--in a word, rather vicious than thoroughly bad,
+this woman was yet susceptible of some good feelings.
+
+"Oh, dear, what have I done to you?" cried Mont Saint Jean. "Why do
+you treat me so?"
+
+"Because it amuses us. Because you are only fit to be tormented. It is
+your trade. Look at yourself; you will see you have no right to
+complain."
+
+"But you know I do not complain until I can't stand it any longer."
+
+"Well, we'll leave you alone if you will tell us why you are called
+Mont Saint Jean."
+
+"Yes, yes, tell us that."
+
+"I have told you this-a hundred times. An old soldier, whom I once
+loved, was called so because he was wounded in the battle of Mont
+Saint Jean. I took his name. Are you content now? You make me repeat
+the same things."
+
+"If he looked like you he was a beauty! He must have been one of the
+invalids."
+
+"I am ugly, I know. Say what you please: all the same to me; but don't
+strike me, that's all I ask."
+
+"What have you got in that old handkerchief?" said La Louve.
+
+"Yes, yes, what is it? Come, show it."
+
+"Oh no, I entreat you!" said the poor creature, holding the bundle
+tightly in her hands.
+
+"You must give it up."
+
+"Yes; take it from her, La Louve."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Well, it is baby's clothes I have commenced for my child. I make them
+with the old pieces of linen I pick up. It is of no consequence to
+you, is it?"
+
+"Oh, let us see the baby-linen of Mont Saint Jean! Come, come," cried
+La Louve, snatching the bundle from the hands of Mont Saint Jean.
+
+The wretched handkerchief was torn to pieces in the struggle, and its
+contents, composed of rags and bits of stuff of all colors, were
+strewn on the ground and trampled under foot, amid shouts of laughter.
+
+"What rags! What trash! An old rag shop! Takes more thread than stuff!
+Here, pick up your duds, Mont Saint Jean!"
+
+"How wicked you are! How bad you must be!" cried the poor creature
+running here and there after the scraps and rags, which she tried to
+pick up, notwithstanding the blows they gave her. "I have never harmed
+any one," said she, weeping. "I have offered, if they would let me
+alone, to do anything for them they wanted; to give them half of my
+rations, although I am very hungry. Ah, well! no, no, it is just the
+same. But what must I do for peace? They have not even pity on a poor
+woman in my condition! They must be more savage than wild beasts! I
+had so much trouble to collect those little scraps of linen. How do
+you think I shall do, since I have no money to buy anything?" Suddenly
+she cried, in an accent of joy, "Oh, now you have come, La Goualeuse,
+I am saved! Speak to them for me! They will listen to you, surely, for
+they love you as much as they hate me."
+
+The Goualeuse (the Songstress) arriving, the last of the prisoners had
+entered the yard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+GOUALEUSE AND LOUISE.
+
+
+Before we continue the account of this horrible scene, we must return
+to the Marchioness d'Harville and Madame Armand, whose conversation
+had been for a moment interrupted. At the ringing of the bell, the
+inspectress had hastened to one of the doors which opened into the
+prison yard, to be ready to prevent by her presence, or calm by her
+authority, any tumult or quarrels that might arise among the scholars,
+whose passions, restrained for some time by discipline and employment,
+only wanted the hour of idleness and recreation to be aroused and
+excited. Madame Armand had witnessed, in mournful silence, the cruel
+treatment of which Mont Saint Jean was a victim, and she had already
+advanced to snatch her from her tormentors, when Fleur-de-Marie
+appeared.
+
+"She is saved!" said she to herself, and returned to the parlor where
+Madame d'Harville awaited her.
+
+"But this is quite a romance that you have just related," cried the
+latter, without giving Madame Armand time to apologize for her
+absence. "What are the relations of this girl, whose beauty, language,
+and manners form such a strange contrast to her past degradation and
+present situation with the other prisoners? If she is endowed with the
+elevation of mind that you suppose, she must suffer much from
+associating with her miserable companions."
+
+"Everything concerning this girl is a subject of astonishment. Hardly
+has she been here three days, yet already she possesses a kind of
+influence over the other prisoners."
+
+"In so short a time?"
+
+"They show her not only interest, but almost respect."
+
+"How? These unfortunates--"
+
+"Have sometimes an instinct of singular delicacy in perceiving the
+noble qualities of others; yet they often hate those whose superiority
+they are obliged to admit."
+
+"But they do not hate this young girl?"
+
+"Far from that, madame; not one of them knew her before she entered
+here. They were at first struck with her beauty. Her features,
+although of rare beauty, are, it is true, veiled with a touching,
+unhealthy paleness. This sweet and melancholy face inspired them at
+first with more interest than jealousy. Then she became very quiet--
+another subject of astonishment for these creatures, who, for the most
+part, endeavor always to drown the voice of conscience by force of
+noise and tumult. In short, although dignified and reserved, she
+showed herself compassionate, which prevented her companions from
+being exasperated at her coldness. This is not all. A month ago there
+came here an unruly creature, called La Louve, so violent, audacious,
+and ferocious is her character. She is a girl of about twenty; tall,
+masculine, rather a fine face, but very coarse. We are often obliged
+to put her in confinement to subdue her turbulence. Only the day
+before yesterday she came out of the cell, very much irritated at the
+punishment she had just received. It was meal-time: the poor girl of
+whom I have spoken did not eat; she said sadly to her companions, 'Who
+wants my bread?' 'I,' said La Louve, first. 'I,' said a poor deformed
+creature afterward, called Mont Saint Jean, who serves as a
+laughingstock, and sometimes, in spite of us, as a butt to the other
+prisoners. The girl gave her bread to the latter, to the great rage of
+La Louve. 'I asked you first,' cried she furiously. 'It is true, but
+this poor woman has more need of it than you,' answered the girl. La
+Louve snatched the bread from the hands of Mont Saint Jean, and began
+to vociferate, brandishing her knife. As she is very irascible, and
+very much feared, no one dared to take the part of poor Goualeuse."
+
+"What do you call her, madame?"
+
+"La Goualeuse. It is the name, or rather surname, under which she has
+been confined here. Almost all of them have similar borrowed names."
+
+"It is very singular."
+
+"It signifies, in their hideous slang, the Songstress; for this young
+girl has, they say, a very fine voice; and I readily believe it, for
+her tone is enchanting."
+
+"And how did she escape from this villainous Louve?"
+
+"Rendered still more furious by La Goualeuse's coolness, she ran
+toward her with an oath and uplifted knife. All the prisoners screamed
+with terror. Goualeuse alone regarded without fear this formidable
+creature. Smiling bitterly, she said, in her angelic voice, 'Oh, kill
+me! kill me! I desire it; but do not make me suffer much.' These
+words, it was reported to me, were pronounced with a simplicity so
+touching, that almost all the prisoners had tears in their eyes."
+
+"I believe it, said Lady d'Harville, painfully affected.
+
+"The worst characters," answered the inspectress, "happily have
+sometimes moments of reflection--a kind of return to the correct path.
+On hearing these words, expressed with such resignation, La Louve,
+touched to the heart, as she afterward said, threw her knife on the
+ground, trampled it under foot, and cried, 'I was wrong to threaten
+you, Songstress, for I am stronger than you; you were not afraid of my
+knife; you are courageous--I love courage; so now, if any one attempts
+to hurt you, I'll defend you.'"
+
+"What a singular character."
+
+"The example of La Louve increased the influence of La Goualeuse; and
+at present, a thing almost without a precedent, hardly any of the
+prisoners address her familiarly; the greater part respect her, and
+even offer to render her any little service that can be rendered among
+prisoners. I asked some of the prisoners who slept in the same room
+with her, what was the cause of the deference shown her. 'That's more
+than we can tell,' they answered; 'it is plain to be seen she is not
+one of our sort.' 'But who told you so?' 'No one told us; we see.' 'By
+what?' 'In a thousand things. For instance, last night, before she
+went to bed, she went on her knees and said her prayers; as she prays,
+so La Louve says, she must have a right to pray!'"
+
+"What a strange observation!"
+
+"These poor creatures have no sentiment of religion, yet they never
+utter here a sacrilegious or impious word. You will see, madame, in
+all our rooms a kind of altar, where the statue of the Virgin is
+surrounded with offerings and ornaments made by themselves. But to
+return to La Goualeuse. Her companions said to me, 'We see that she is
+not our sort, from her soft manners, her sadness, the way in which she
+speaks.' And then said La Louve, who was present at this conversation,
+'It must be that she is not one of us; for this morning, in our
+sleeping-room, without knowing why, we were ashamed to dress ourselves
+before her!"
+
+"What strange delicacy in the midst of so much degradation!" cried
+Lady d'Harville. "They have a profound sense of their degradation?"
+
+"No one can despise them as much as they despise themselves. Among
+some of them, whose repentance is sincere, this original stain of vice
+remains indelible in their eyes, even when they find themselves in a
+better situation; others become insane, so much does the sense of
+their former aberration remain fixed and implacable. I should not be
+surprised if the profound sorrow of the Goualeuse proceeds from some
+such cause."
+
+"If this should be so, what torture for her! a remorse which nothing
+can soothe!"
+
+"Happily, madame, for the honor of the human race, this remorse occurs
+oftener than is supposed; avenging conscience never completely sleeps,
+or rather, strange thing, sometimes one would say that the spirit
+watches while the body sleeps. It is an observation that I made only
+this night again in reference to my _protegee_. Very, often, when
+the prisoners are asleep, I make the rounds of the sleeping
+apartments. Your ladyship cannot imagine how much the physiognomies of
+these women differ in expression while they sleep. A great number of
+them, whom I had seen during the day careless, bold, brazen, impudent,
+seemed completely to have changed when sleep had deprived their
+features of all the audacity of wickedness; for vice, alas! has its
+pride. Oh, what sorrowful revelations on these countenances, then
+dejected, melancholy, and sad! What involuntary starts! What mournful
+sighs torn from them by a dream, doubtless impressed with an
+inexorable reality! I spoke to you just now, madame, of this girl
+called La Louve. About fifteen days ago she insulted me brutally
+before all the prisoners. I shrugged my shoulders; my indifference but
+exasperated her. Then she thought to wound me by uttering something
+disgraceful concerning my mother, whom she had often seen here on a
+visit to me. Ah, how horrid! I acknowledge, stupid as this attack was,
+she hurt me. La Louve saw it, and triumphed. That night I went to make
+an inspection in the sleeping apartment; I reached the bed of La
+Louve, who was to be put in the cell next morning; I was struck with
+the sweetness of her face, compared with the hard and insolent
+expression which was habitual to her; her features seemed
+supplicating, full of sadness and contrition; her lips were half-open,
+her breathing oppressed; finally, a thing which appeared to me
+incredible, for I thought it impossible, tears--tears fell from her
+eyes. I looked at her in silence for some moments, when I heard her
+pronounce these words, 'Pardon! pardon her, mother!' I listened more
+attentively, but all that I could hear was my name, Madame Armand,
+pronounced with a sigh."
+
+"She repented, during her sleep, of having abused your mother?"
+
+"I thought so, and it made me less severe."
+
+"And the next day, did she express any regret for her past conduct?"
+
+"None; she showed herself as wild as ever."
+
+"But, madame, you must need great courage, much strength of mind, not
+to recoil before the unpleasantness of a task which brings such rare
+returns!"
+
+"The consciousness of fulfilling a duty sustains and encourages me--
+besides, sometimes, one is recompensed by some happy discovery."
+
+"No matter; women like you, madame, are seldom to be found."
+
+"No, no; I assure you what I do others do, and with more success and
+intelligence than I. One of the inspectresses of the other quarter of
+Saint Lazaro, destined for those accused of other crimes, will
+interest you much more. She related to me the arrival, this morning,
+of a young girl, accused of infanticide. Never have I heard anything
+more touching. The father of the poor unfortunate has become insane
+from grief, on learning the shame of his child. It appears that
+nothing could be more frightful than the poverty of this family, who
+lived in a wretched garret in the Rue du Temple!"
+
+"The Rue du Temple!" cried Madame d'Harville, astonished. "What is the
+name of the family?"
+
+"Morel. Her name is Louise Morel."
+
+"This poor family has been recommended to me," said Clemence,
+blushing, "but I was far from expecting to hear such terrible news--
+and Louise Morel--"
+
+"Says she is innocent; she swears her child was dead; and her words
+have the accent of truth. Since you have interested yourself in her
+family, if you would have the kindness to see her, this mark of your
+goodness would calm her despair, which they say is fearful."
+
+"Certainly, I will see her, and the Goualeuse also; for all you tell
+me about this poor girl affects me sincerely. But what must I do to
+obtain her liberty? Then I will find her a place; I will take charge
+of her."
+
+"With the relations your ladyship has, it will be very easy for you to
+get her discharge to-day or to-morrow; it depends entirely on the
+prefect of the police. The recommendation of a person of quality would
+be decisive with him. But I have wandered far, madame, from the
+observation that I made on the slumber of the Goualeuse. On this
+subject, I must confess, that I should not be astonished that, to the
+sentiments of profound grief for her first fault, is joined another
+sorrow, not less cruel."
+
+"What do you mean to say, madame?"
+
+"Perhaps I am deceived; but I should not be astonished that this young
+girl, emancipated, as it were, from the degradation into which she was
+first plunged, had experienced perhaps a virtuous love, which was at
+once her happiness and misery."
+
+"Why do you think so?"
+
+"The obstinate silence she keeps as to the place where she passed the
+three months which followed her departure from the City, makes me
+think that she fears to be reclaimed by the persons with whom,
+perhaps, she found a refuge."
+
+"And why this fear?"
+
+"Because she would then have to avow a past life, of which they are
+doubtless ignorant."
+
+"Really, this peasant's dress--"
+
+"Besides, another circumstance has strengthened my suspicions. Last
+night, as I made my inspection, I drew near the Goualeuse's bed; she
+slept profoundly; her face was calm and serene; her thick flaxen hair,
+half escaping from under her cap, fell in profusion on her neck and
+shoulders. She had her small hands clasped over her bosom, as if she
+had fallen asleep while in the act of prayer. I contemplated with
+compassion this angelic countenance, when, in a low voice, and in a
+tone at once respectful, sorrowful and endearing, she pronounced a
+name."
+
+"And this name?"
+
+After a moment's silence, Madame Armand said gravely, "Although I
+consider as sacred that which one hears another express in their
+sleep, you interest yourself so generously in this unfortunate,
+madame, that I can confide to you this secret. The name was Rudolph."
+
+"Rudolph!" cried Madame d'Harville, thinking of the prince. Then,
+reflecting that, after all, the Grand Duke of Gerolstein could have no
+connection with the Rudolph of poor Goualeuse, she said to the
+inspectress, who seemed astonished at her exclamation, "This name
+surprised me, madame, for by a singular chance, one of my relations
+bears it also; but all you have told me of the Goualeuse interests me
+more and more. Can I not see her to-day? Now?"
+
+"Yes, madame, I will go, if you wish, to find her, I can also ask
+about Louise Morel, who is in the other part of the prison."
+
+"I shall be much obliged," answered Madame d'Harville, and she
+remained alone.
+
+"It is singular," said she; "I cannot account for the strange
+impression which the name of Rudolph caused me. Truly, I am mad!
+between _him_ and such a creature, what relations can exist?"
+Then, after a pause, she added, "He was right! how much all this
+interests me! the mind, the heart, expand when they are applied to
+such noble occupations! As he says, it seems as if one participated in
+the power of Providence, when relieving those who are deserving. And
+these excursions in a world of whose existence we have no suspicion
+are so interesting, so _amusing_, as _he_ was pleased to
+say! What romance could give me such touching emotions, excite to this
+point my curiosity! This poor Goualeuse, for example, inspires me with
+profound pity, and this unfortunate daughter of the artisan, whom the
+prince had so generously relieved in my name! Poor people! their
+frightful misery served as a pretext to save me. I have escaped shame,
+death, perhaps, by a hypocritical falsehood; this deceit oppresses me;
+but I will expiate it by force of benefactions. This will be easy! it
+is so sweet to follow the noble counsels of Rudolph, it is rather to
+love than to obey him! Oh! I feel it--I know it. I experience a sweet
+delight in acting through him; for I love him. Oh, yes, I love him!
+yet he will be for ever ignorant of this eternal passion of my life."
+
+While Madame d'Harville awaits the Goualeuse, we will return to the
+prison-yard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+WOLF AND LAMB.
+
+
+Fleur-de-Marie, the Songstress, wore the blue dress and black cap of
+the prisoners; but even in this common costume she was charming. Yet
+since she was carried off from the farm of Bouqueval, her features
+were much altered; her natural paleness, slightly tinted with rose,
+was now as dead as the whitest alabaster; her expression had also
+changed; it had now assumed a kind of dignified sadness.
+Fleur-de-Marie knew that to endure courageously the grievous sacrifices
+of expiation is almost to obtain a kind of regeneration.
+
+"Ask their pardon for me, La Goualeuse," said Mont Saint Jean. "See
+how they drag in the dirt all that I had collected with so much
+trouble; what good can it do them?"
+
+Fleur-de-Marie did not say a word, but she began actively to collect,
+one by one, from under the feet of the prisoners, all the rags she
+could find. One of the prisoners retaining mischievously under her
+foot a piece of coarse muslin, Fleur-de-Marie, stooping, raised her
+enchanting face toward this woman, and said, in her sweet voice, "I
+beg you to let me take this, in the name of the poor weeping woman."
+
+The prisoner withdrew her foot. The muslin was saved, as well as all
+the other rags, which the Goualeuse secured piece by piece. There
+remained only one little cap, which two of them were contending for,
+laughing.
+
+Fleur-de-Marie said to them, "Come, be good now, and give her that
+little cap."
+
+"My eye! is it for a baby harlequin, this cap? Made of gray stuff,
+with peaks of green and black fustian, and a bedtick lining!" This
+description of the cap was received with shouts of laughter.
+
+"Laugh at it as much as you please, but give it to me," said Mont
+Saint Jean; "don't drag it in the gutter, as you did the rest. I beg
+your pardon, La Goualeuse, for having made you soil your hands for
+me," added she, in a grateful voice.
+
+"Give me the harlequin cap," said La Louve, who caught it, and shook
+it in the air as a trophy.
+
+"I entreat you to give it to me," said La Goualeuse.
+
+"No; because you will give it to Mont Saint Jean."
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"Ah! bah! such a fag! it's not worth the trouble."
+
+"It is because Mont Saint Jean has nothing but rags to dress her child
+with that you should have pity on her, La Louve," said Fleur-de-Marie,
+sadly, extending her hand toward the cap.
+
+"You sha'n't have it!" answered La Louve, brutally; "must one always
+give up to you because you are the weakest? You take advantage of
+this."
+
+"Where would be the merit of giving it to me if I were the strongest?"
+answered La Goualeuse, with a smile full of grace.
+
+"No, no, you wish to twist me about again with your little soft voice;
+you sha'n't have it."
+
+"Come, now, La Louve, don't be naughty."
+
+"Leave me alone, you tire me."
+
+"I entreat you!"
+
+"Stop! don't make me angry--I have said no, and no it is!" cried La
+Louve, very much irritated.
+
+"Have pity upon her; see how she weeps!"
+
+"What is that to me? So much the worse for her; she is our target."
+
+"That's true, that's true, don't give it up," murmured several of the
+prisoners, carried away by the example of La Louve.
+
+"You are right--so much the worse for her!" said Fleur-de-Marie, with
+bitterness. "She is your butt; she ought to be resigned to it; her
+groans amuse you, her tears make you laugh. You must pass the time in
+some way; if you should kill her on the spot, she has no right to say
+anything. You are right, La Louve--it is just! this poor woman has
+done no harm; she cannot defend herself; she is one against the whole--
+you overpower her--that is very brave and very generous."
+
+"Are we cowards, then?" cried La Louve, carried away by the violence
+of her character, and by her impatience of all contradiction. "Will
+you answer? are we cowards, eh?" said she, more and more irritated.
+
+Murmurs, very threatening for the Goualeuse, began to be heard. The
+offended prisoners approached and surrounded her, vociferating,
+forgetting or revolting against the ascendancy that the young girl had
+until then obtained over them.
+
+"She calls us cowards! By what right does she scold us? Is it because
+she is greater than we are? We have been too good to her, and now she
+wants to put on airs with us. If we choose to torment Mont Saint Jean,
+what has she got to say about it? Since it is so, you shall be worse
+beaten than before, do you hear, Mont Saint Jean?"
+
+"Hold, here is one to begin with," said one of them, giving her a
+blow. "And if you meddle with what don't concern you, La Goualeuse,
+we'll treat you in the same way."
+
+"Yes, yes!"
+
+"This isn't all!" cried La Louve; "La Goualeuse must ask our pardon
+for having called us cowards! If not, and we let her go on, she'll
+finish by eating us up; we are very stupid not to see that. She must
+ask our pardon. On her knee! on both knees! or we'll treat her like
+Mont Saint Jean, her _protegee_. On your knees--on your knees!
+Oh! we are cowards, are we?"
+
+Fleur-de-Marie was not alarmed at these furious cries; she let the
+storm rage, but as soon as she could be heard, casting a calm and
+melancholy glance around her, she replied to La Louve, who vociferated
+anew, "Dare to repeat that we are cowards!"
+
+"You? no, no; it is this poor woman whose clothes you have torn, whom
+you have beaten, dragged in the mire, who is a coward! Do you not see
+how she weeps, how she trembles in looking at you? It is she who is a
+coward, since she is afraid of you."
+
+The discernment of Fleur-de-Marie served her perfectly. She might have
+invoked justice and duty to disarm the stupid and brutal conduct of
+the prisoners, they would not have listened to her; but in addressing
+them with this sentiment of natural generosity, which is never extinct
+even in the most contemptible natures, she awoke a feeling of pity.
+
+La Louve and her companions still murmured; Fleur-de-Marie continued:
+"Your target does not deserve compassion, you say; but her child
+deserves it. Alas! does it not feel the blows given to the mother?
+When she cries for mercy, it is not for herself, it is for her child!
+When she asks for some of your bread, if you have too much, because
+she has more hunger than usual, it is not for her, but for her child!
+When she begs you, with tears in her eyes, to spare these rags, which
+she has had so much trouble to collect, it is not for her, but for her
+child! This poor little cap, which you have made so much fun of, is
+laughable, perhaps; yet only to look at it makes me feel like weeping.
+I avow it. Laugh at us both, Mont Saint Jean and me, if you will." The
+prisoners did not laugh. La Louve even looked sadly at the little cap
+she held in her hand. "Come, now!" continued Fleur-de-Marie, wiping
+her eyes with the back of her white and delicate hand; "I know you are
+not so hard. You torment Mont Saint Jean from want of employment, not
+from cruelty. But you forget that she has her child. Could she hold it
+in her arms that it should protect her, not only would you not strike
+her, for fear of hurting the poor innocent, but if it was cold, you
+would give to its mother all you could to cover it, eh, La Louve?"
+
+"It is true: who would not pity a child?"
+
+"It is very plain."
+
+"If it was hungry you would take the bread out of your own mouth;
+would you not, La Louve?"
+
+"Yes, and willingly. I am no worse than others."
+
+"Nor we neither."
+
+"A poor little innocent!"
+
+"Who would have a heart to hurt it?"
+
+"Must be a monster!"
+
+"No hearts!"
+
+"Wild beasts!"
+
+"I told you truly," said Fleur-de-Marie. "That you were not cruel. You
+are kind; your error is not reflecting that Mont Saint Jean deserves
+as much compassion as though she had her child in her arms, that's
+all."
+
+"That's all!" cried La Louve, with warmth; "no, that's not all. You
+were right, La Goualeuse; we were cowards, and you were brave in
+daring to tell us so; and you are brave in not trembling after having
+told us. You see we were right in constantly insisting that _you
+were not one of us_--it must always come to that. It vexes me; but
+so it is. We were all wrong just now. You were pluckier than the whole
+gang of us!"
+
+"That's true; this little blonde must have had courage to tell us the
+truth right in our faces."
+
+"After all, it is true, when we strike Mont Saint Jean, we do strike
+her child."
+
+"I didn't think of that."
+
+"Nor I either."
+
+"But La Goualeuse thinks of everything."
+
+"And to strike a child is shameful!"
+
+"There isn't one of us capable of doing it."
+
+"Nothing is more easily moved than popular passion-nothing more abrupt
+and rapid than the return from evil to good and from good to evil." The
+few simple and touching words from Fleur-de-Marie had caused a sudden
+reaction in favor of Mont Saint Jean, who wept gently.
+
+Suddenly La Louve, violent and hasty in everything, took the little
+cap she held in her hand, made a kind of purse of it, fumbled in her
+pocket, and drew out twenty sous, threw them into the cap, and cried,
+presenting it to her companions, "I give twenty sous toward buying
+baby-linen for Mont Saint Jean. We'll cut it all out and sew it
+ourselves, so that the making-up sha'n't cost a copper!"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"That's it! let us club together."
+
+"I'm agreed!"
+
+"Famous idea!"
+
+"Poor woman!"
+
+"She is as ugly as a monster; but she is a mother, like any one else."
+
+"I give ten sous."
+
+"I thirty."
+
+"I twenty."
+
+"I four sous; got no more."
+
+"I have nothing; but I will sell my ration for tomorrow-who'll buy?"
+
+"I," said La Louve; "I put ten sous for you; but you'll keep your
+ration, and Mont Saint Jean's baby shall be togged out like a
+princess."
+
+To express the surprise and joy of Mont Saint Jean would be
+impossible; her grotesque and ugly visage became almost touching.
+Happiness and gratitude beamed the Fleur-de-Marie was also very happy,
+although she had been obliged to say to La Louve, when she held the
+little cap toward her, "I have no money; but I will work as much as
+you like."
+
+"Oh! my good little angel from Paradise," cried Mont Saint Jean,
+falling at the feet of La Goualeuse, and trying to take her hand to
+kiss it. "What is it I have done that you should be so charitable
+toward me, and all these _ladies_ also? Is it possible, my good
+angel? For my child--everything that I want! Who could have believed
+it? I shall go off my head, I am sure. Why, I was just now the
+scapegoat of every one! In a moment, because you said something in
+your dear little voice of a seraph, you turn them from evil to good;
+and now they love me, and I love them. They are so good! I was wrong
+to get angry. Wasn't I a fool, and unjust, and ungrateful? All they
+have done to me was only for a laugh; they didn't wish me any harm--it
+was for my good; for here is the proof. Why, now, if they were to kill
+me on the spot, I would not say a word."
+
+"We have eighty-four francs and seven sous," said La Louve, having
+finished counting the money she had collected. "Who will be treasurer?
+Mustn't give it to Mont Saint Jean; she is too stupid."
+
+"Let Goualeuse take charge of the money," they all cried unanimously.
+
+"If you listen to me," said Fleur-de-Marie, "you will beg Madame
+Armand, the inspectress, to take charge of this sum, and make the
+necessary purchases; and then she will know the good action you have
+done, and, perhaps, will ask to have your time reduced. Well, La
+Louve," added she, taking her companion by the arm, "don't you now
+feel happier than when you were casting to the winds, just now, the
+poor rags of Mont Saint Jean?"
+
+La Louve at first did not answer. To the generous warmth which had for
+a moment animated her features had succeeded a kind of savage
+defiance.
+
+Fleur-de-Marie looked at her with surprise, not understanding this
+sudden change.
+
+"La Goualeuse, come; I want to talk to you," said La Louve, in a
+sullen manner; and leaving the other prisoners, she led Fleur-de-Marie
+near to the basin which was in the center of the court. La Louve and
+her companion seated themselves, isolated from the rest of their
+companions.
+
+The winter's sun shed its pale rays upon them, the blue sky was
+partially obscured by white and fleecy clouds; some birds, deceived by
+the mildness of the atmosphere, were warbling in the black branches of
+the large chestnut-trees in the court; two or three sparrows, bolder
+than the rest, came to drink and to bathe in a little brook which
+flowed from the fountain; the stone margin was covered with green
+moss, and here and there from the interstices rose some tufts of green
+herbs, which the frost had spared. This description of the prison
+basin may seem trifling, but Fleur-de-Marie lost not one of these
+details; with her eyes fixed sadly on the clouds as they broke the
+azure of the sky, or reflected the golden rays of the sun, she
+thought, with a sigh, of the magnificence of nature, which she much
+loved, admired poetically, and of which she was deprived.
+
+"What do you wish to say to me?" asked La Goualeuse of her companion,
+who, seated alongside of her, remained somber and silent.
+
+"It is necessary that we have a settlement," cried La Louve, harshly,
+"this can't go on."
+
+"I don't understand you, La Louve."
+
+"Just now, in the court, I said to myself, 'I will not yield to La
+Goualeuse,' and yet I have again given way to you." "But--"
+
+"I tell you this can't last so."
+
+"What have you against me, La Louve?"
+
+"Why, I am no longer the same since your arrival; no, I have no more
+courage, strength, or hardihood."
+
+Interrupting herself, she pushed up the sleeve of her dress and showed
+to La Goualeuse her strong white arm, pointing out to her, pricked in
+with indelible ink, a poniard half plunged in a red heart; over this
+emblem were these words:
+
+"Death to Dastards! MARTIAL. For life!"
+
+"Do you see that?" cried La Louve.
+
+"Yes; it makes me afraid," said La Goualeuse, turning away her head.
+
+"When Martial, my lover, wrote this with a red-hot needle, he thought
+me brave; if he knew my conduct for three days past, he would drive
+his knife in my body, as this poniard is planted in this heart; and he
+would be right, for be has written there '_Death to Dastards_'
+and I am one."
+
+"What have you done cowardly?"
+
+"Everything."
+
+"Do you regret what you have done just now?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"I do not believe you."
+
+"I tell you that I regret it, for it is another proof of the power you
+have over us all. Did you not hear what Mont Saint Jean said when she
+was on her knees to thank you?"
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"She said, in speaking of us, that with nothing you turn us from evil
+to good. I could have strangled her when she said that, for, to our
+shame, it is true. Yes, in a moment you change us from black to white:
+we listen to you, we give way to our impulses, and we are your dupes."
+
+"My dupe--because you have generously assisted this poor woman!"
+
+"It shall not be said," cried La Louve, "that a little girl like you
+can trample me under foot."
+
+"I! how?"
+
+"Do I know how? You come here--you commence by offending me."
+
+"Offend you?"
+
+"Yes: you ask who wants your bread: I answer first 'I.' Mont Saint
+Jean only asks for it afterward and you give her the preference.
+Furious at this, I rush on you with my knife raised."
+
+"And I said to you, 'Kill me if you will, but do not make me suffer
+too much,'" answered La Goualeuse; "that was all."
+
+"That was all! Yes, that was all! and yet, these words alone caused
+the knife to fall from my hands; made me ask pardon from you, who had
+offended me. Is it natural? Why, when I return to my senses, I pity
+myself. And the night when you arrived here, when you knelt to say
+your prayers, why, instead of laughing at you and arousing the whole
+company--why was it that I said, 'Leave her alone; she prays because
+she has the right to do so.' And, the next morning, why were we all
+ashamed to dress before you?"
+
+"I do not know, La Louve."
+
+"Really!" said this violent creature, with irony, "you don't know! It
+is, doubtless, as we have told you sometimes in jest, that you are of
+another family than ours. Perhaps you believe that?"
+
+"I never said so."
+
+"You never said so, but you act so."
+
+"I pray you to listen to me."
+
+"No! it has been of no service for me to listen to you--to look at
+you. Up to now I have never envied any one. Well, two or three times I
+have surprised myself in envying--can anything be more sneaking?--in
+envying your face--like the Holy Virgin's! your soft, sad manner! Yes,
+I have envied even your fair hair, and your blue eyes. I--who have
+always detested fair faces, since I am a brunette--wish to resemble
+you!"
+
+"No, La Louve! me?"
+
+"A week ago I should have left my mark on any one who would have dared
+to tell me this. However, I do not envy you your lot; you are as sad
+as a Magdalen. Is it natural? speak!"
+
+"How can you expect me to account to you for the impressions I cause?"
+
+"Oh, you know well enough what you do with your touch-me-not air."
+
+"But what design can I have?"
+
+"Do you think I know? It is exactly because I cannot understand all
+this that I suspect you. There is another thing: until now I have
+always been gay or angry, but never a thinker; and you have made me
+think. Yes, there are some words you say which, in spite of me, have
+touched my heart, and make me think all manner of sad things."
+
+"I am sorry to have made you sad, La Louve; but I do not remember to
+have said any--"
+
+"Oh!" cried La Louve; "what you do is often as touching as what you
+say! You are so malignant!"
+
+"Do not be angry, La Louve! explain yourself."
+
+"Yesterday, in the workshop, I saw you plainly. You had your eyes
+down, fixed on your work; a tear fell on your hand; you looked at it
+for a moment, and then you carried your hand to your lips, as if to
+kiss away this tear; is it not true?"
+
+"It is true," said La Goualeuse, blushing.
+
+"That has the appearance of nothing! But, at that moment you looked so
+unhappy--so unhappy, that I felt myself all heartache--every feeling
+stirred up. Say now? do you think this is amusing? I have always been
+as hard as a rock about everything concerning myself. No one can boast
+of ever having seen me weep; and it must be that in looking at your
+little face I should feel cowardice at my heart! Yes, for all that is
+pure cowardice; and the proof is, that for three days I have not dared
+to write to Martial, my conscience accuses me so much. Yes, keeping
+company with you has weakened my character; it must stop; I have
+enough of it; I wish to remain as I am, and not have people laugh at
+me."
+
+"Why should they laugh at you?"
+
+"Because they would see me acting a stupid good-natured part, who made
+them all tremble here! No, no, I am twenty; I am as handsome as you,
+in my style; I am wicked; I am feared, and that's what I want. I laugh
+at the rest. Perish all who say the contrary!"
+
+"You are angry with me, La Louve!"
+
+"Yes, you are for me a bad acquaintance; if this is continued, in
+fifteen days, instead of being called Wolf, they will call me Sheep.
+Thank you! it's not me they'll baptize so. Martial would kill me. In
+short, I want none of your company; I am going to ask to be put in
+another hall; if they refuse, I'll flare up so that they will put me
+in the dungeon until my time is out. That's what I have to say to you,
+La Goualeuse."
+
+"I assure you, La Louve," said Fleur-de-Marie, "that you feel an
+interest in me, not because you are soft, but because you are
+generous--brave hearts alone feel the misfortunes of others."
+
+"There is neither generosity nor courage in this," said La Louve,
+brutally; "it is cowardice. Besides, I do not wish you to tell me that
+I am touched--softened; it is not true."
+
+"I will not say so any more, La Louve; but since you have shown some
+interest for me, you will let me be grateful to you for it, will you
+not?"
+
+"To-night I shall be in another hall from you, or alone in the
+dungeon; and soon I shall be away from here."
+
+"And where will you go?"
+
+"Home; Rue Pierre Lescot. I have my own furnished room."
+
+"And Martial!" said La Goualeuse, who hoped to continue the
+conversation by speaking of an object interesting to her; "you'll be
+very happy to see him?"
+
+"Yes; oh, yes!" answered she. "When I was arrested he was recovering
+from sickness--a fever which he had, because he is always on the
+water. For sixteen or seventeen nights I never left him for a moment.
+I sold half that I possessed to pay for a doctor and medicines. I can
+boast of it; and I do boast of it. If my man lives, he owes it to me.
+I yesterday burned a candle before the Virgin for him. It is foolish;
+but never mind, some very good effects have proceeded from this, for
+he is convalescent."
+
+"Where is he now? what does he do?"
+
+"He lives near the Asnieres Bridge, on the shore."
+
+"On the shore?"
+
+"Yes, with his family, in a solitary house. He is always warring with
+the river-keepers; and when once he is in his boat, with his
+double-barreled gun, it's no good to approach him!" said La Louve,
+proudly.
+
+"What is his trade?"
+
+"He fishes by stealth at night; his father had some
+_misunderstanding_ with justice. He has still a mother, two
+sisters, and a brother. It would be better for him not to have such a
+brother, for he is a scoundrel, who will be guillotined one of these
+days; his sisters also. However, never mind, their necks belong to
+themselves."
+
+"Where did you first meet Martial?"
+
+"In Paris. He wished to learn the trade of a locksmith; a fine trade,
+always red-hot iron and fire around one, and danger, too; that suited
+him, but, like me, he had a bad head--couldn't agree with the
+slow-pokes: so he returned to his family, and began to maraud on the
+river. He came to Paris to see me, and I went to see him at Asnieres; it
+is very near; but if it had been further, I should have gone, even if I
+had been obliged to go on my hands and knees."
+
+"You will be very happy to go to the country, you, La Louve," said the
+Goualeuse, sighing; "above all, if you love, as I do, to walk in the
+fields."
+
+"I prefer to walk in the woods--in the large forests, with Martial!"
+
+"In forests? are you not afraid?"
+
+"Afraid! Is a wolf afraid? The thicker and darker the forest, the more
+I like it. A lonely hut, where I should live with Martial, who should
+be a poacher; to go with him at night, to set traps for the game; and
+then, if the guards come to arrest us, to fire on them, hiding in the
+bushes--ah! that's what I like!"
+
+"You have lived in a, forest. La Louve?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Who gave you such ideas?"
+
+"Martial. He was a poacher in Rambouillet Wood. About a year ago he
+was _looked upon_ as having fired upon a guard who had fired upon
+him--villain of a guard! It was not proved in court, but Martial was
+obliged to leave. So he then came to Paris to learn a trade; as I
+said, he left and went to maraud on the river; it is less slavish. But
+he always regrets the woods, and will return there some day or other."
+
+"And, La Louve, where are your parents?"
+
+"Do you think I know!"
+
+"Is it a long time since you have seen them?"
+
+"I do not know if they are dead or alive."
+
+Fleur-de-Marie, although plunged very young into an atmosphere of
+corruption, had since respired an air so pure, that she experienced a
+painful oppression at the horrid story of La Louve. Suppressing the
+emotion which the sad confession of her companion had caused her, she
+said to her, timidly, "Listen to me without being angry."
+
+"Come, say on; I hope I have talked enough; but, in truth, all the
+same, since it is the last time we shall converse together."
+
+"Are you happy, La Louve?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"With the life you lead?"
+
+"Here at Saint Lazare?"
+
+"No; at your home, when you are free."
+
+"Yes, I am happy."
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Always."
+
+"You would not change your lot for any other?"
+
+"For what other? There's no other lot for me."
+
+"Tell me, La Louve," continued Fleur-de-Marie, after a moment's
+silence, "do you not sometimes like to build castles in the air here
+in prison? It is so amusing."
+
+"Castles in the air?"
+
+"About Martial."
+
+"Martial?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Ma foi, I never have."
+
+"Let me build one for you and Martial."
+
+"What's the use?"
+
+"To pass the time."
+
+"Well, let us see this castle."
+
+"Just imagine, for example, that by chance you should meet some one
+who should say to you, 'Abandoned by your father and mother, your
+childhood has been surrounded by bad examples; that you must be pitied
+as much as blamed for having become--'"
+
+"Having become what?"
+
+"What you and I--have become," answered Goualeuse, in a soft voice.
+"Suppose this person were to say to you, 'You love Martial--he loves
+you; leave your present mode of life, and become his wife.'"
+
+La Louve shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Do you think he would take me for his wife?"
+
+"Except his poaching, has he ever committed any other culpable
+action?"
+
+"No; he is a poacher on the river, as he was in the woods; and he is
+right. Are not fish, like game, the property of those who can take
+them? Where is the mark of their owner?"
+
+"Well, suppose, having renounced this, he wishes to become an honest
+man; suppose that he inspired, by the frankness of his good
+resolutions, enough confidence in an unknown benefactor to be given a
+place--as gamekeeper, for instance. To a poacher, it would be to his
+liking. It is the same trade, only lawful."
+
+"Lord! yes; it is life in the woods."
+
+"Only this place would be given to him on the sole condition that he
+would marry you and take you with him."
+
+"I go with Martial?"
+
+"Yes; you would be happy, you say, to live together in a forest. Would
+you not like better, instead of a miserable poacher's hut where you
+would hide yourselves like criminals, to have a nice little cottage,
+of which you should be the active, industrious housekeeper?"
+
+"You make fun of me. Can this be possible?"
+
+[Illustration: THE SCAFFOLD]
+
+"Who knows? though it is only a castle."
+
+"Ah, true; very well."
+
+"I say, La Louve, it seems to me I already see you established in your
+cottage in the forest, with your husband, and two or three children.
+What happiness!"
+
+"Children! Martial!" cried La Louve; "oh, yes, they would be
+_proudly_ loved."
+
+"How much company they would be for you in your solitude. Then, when
+they began to grow up, they could render you some assistance. The
+smallest could pick up the dead branches for your fire; the largest
+could drive to pasture the cow which has been given to your husband
+for his activity; for, having been a poacher himself, he would make
+all the better gamekeeper."
+
+"Just so; that's true. Ah, these castles in the air are amusing. Tell
+me some more, La Goualeuse."
+
+"They will be very much pleased with your husband. You will receive
+from his master some presents; a nice garden. But marry! you will have
+to work, La Louve, from morning to night." "Oh, if that was all, once
+along with Martial, work wouldn't make me afraid. I have strong arms."
+
+"And you would have enough to occupy them, I answer for it. There is
+so much to do. There are the meals to prepare, clothes to mend; one
+day the washing, another day the baking, or the house to clean from
+top to bottom; so that the other gamekeepers would say, 'Oh, there is
+not a housekeeper like Martial's wife; from cellar to garret her house
+is as nice as a new pin; and the children always so neat and clean. It
+is because she is so industrious.'"
+
+"Tell me, La Goualeuse, is it true I would be called Madame Martial?"
+
+"It is a great deal better than to be called La Louve, is it not?"
+
+"Certainly; I prefer the name of any man to the name of a beast. But,
+bah! bah! wolf I am born, and wolf I shall die."
+
+"Who knows? Do not recoil from a hard but honest life that brings
+happiness. So, work would not alarm you?"
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"And then, besides, it is not all labor: there are moments of repose.
+In the winter evenings, while your children are asleep, and your
+husband smoking his pipe, cleaning his gun, or caressing his dogs, you
+could have a nice quiet time."
+
+"Bah! bah! a quiet time, sit with my arms folded. Goodness, no; I
+would prefer to mend the family linen in the evening, in the
+chimney-corner; that is not so tiresome. The days are so short in
+winter."
+
+At the words of Fleur-de-Marie, La Louve forgot more and more of the
+present in these dreams of the future. La Louve did not conceal the
+wild tastes with which her lover had inspired her. Fleur-de-Marie had
+thought, with reason, that if her companion would suffer herself to be
+sufficiently moved at this picture of a rough, poor, and solitary
+life, to ardently desire to live such a one, this woman would deserve
+interest and pity.
+
+Enchanted at seeing her companion listen with curiosity, La Goualeuse
+continued, smiling: "And, then you see _Madame Martial_--let me
+call you so, what do you care?"
+
+"On the contrary, it flatters me," said La Louve, shrugging her
+shoulders, but smiling. "What folly--to play _Madame!_ What
+children we are! Never mind, go on--it is amusing. You said, then----"
+
+"I say, Madame Martial, that in speaking of your mode of living in
+winter, in the woods, we only think of the worst part of the season."
+
+"No, that is not the worst. To hear the wind whistle at night in the
+forest, and from time to time the wolves howl, far off--far off; I
+would not find it tiresome, not I, if I am alongside of a good fire,
+with my man and my brats; or even all alone with my children, while he
+is gone to make his rounds. Oh! a gun doesn't frighten me. If I had my
+children to defend, I'd be good then. La Louve would take good care of
+her cubs!"
+
+"Oh! I believe you--you are very brave; but coward me prefers spring
+to winter. Oh! the spring, Madame Martial, the spring! when the leaves
+burst forth; when the pretty wood-flowers blossom, which smell so
+good--so good, that the air is perfumed. Then it is that your children
+will tumble gayly on the new grass, and the forest will become so
+thick and bushy, that your house can hardly be seen for the foliage; I
+think I can see it from here. There is a bower before the door that
+your husband has planted, which shades the seat of turf where he
+sleeps during the heat of the day, while you go and come, and tell the
+children not to wake their father. I do not know if you have remarked
+it, but at noon in the middle of summer, it is as silent in the woods
+as during the night. Not a leaf stirs, not a bird is heard to sing."
+
+"That is true," repeated La Louve, mechanically, who, forgetting more
+and more the reality, believed almost that she saw displayed before
+her eyes the smiling pictures described by the poetic imagination of
+Fleur-de-Marie, instinctively a lover of the beauties of nature.
+
+Delighted with the profound attention which her companion lent her,
+she continued, allowing herself to be carried away by the charm of the
+thoughts she evoked. "There is one thing that I like almost as well as
+the silence of the woods; it is the patter of the large drops of rain
+in the summer, falling on the leaves; do you like this also?"
+
+"Oh yes--I like also, very much, the summer rain."
+
+"When the trees, moss, and grass are all well moistened, what a fine
+fresh odor! And then, how the sun, peeping through the trees, makes
+all the drops of water sparkle which hang from the leaves after the
+shower. Have you remarked this also?"
+
+"Yes, but I didn't remember it till you told it me. How droll it is!
+you tell it so well, La Goualeuse, that one seems to see everything as
+you speak; and--I do not know how to explain this to you; but what you
+have said--smells good--is refreshing--like the summer rain of which
+you spoke."
+
+Thus, like the beautiful and the good, poetry is often contagious. La
+Louve's brutal and savage nature had to submit in everything to the
+influence of Fleur-de-Marie. She added, smiling, "We must not believe
+that we are alone in loving the summer rain. How happy the birds are!
+how they shake their wings in warbling joyously--not more joyously,
+however, than your children, free, gay, and lively as they are: see
+how, at the close of day, the youngest runs through the woods to meet
+his brother, who brings the heifers from the pasture; they soon heard
+the tinkling of their bells."
+
+"Why, La Goualeuse, it seems to me that I can see the smallest, yet
+the boldest, who has been placed by his brother, who sustains him,
+astride the back of one of the cows."
+
+"And one would say that the poor beast knew what burden she was
+bearing, she walks with so much precaution.
+
+"But now it is supper time: your eldest, while the cattle were
+grazing, has amused himself in filling a basket for you with wild
+strawberries, which he has brought covered with violets."
+
+"Strawberries and violets--oh! that must be a balm. But where the
+mischief do you get such ideas, La Goualeuse?"
+
+"In the woods, where the strawberries ripen, where the violets bloom;
+it is only to look and collect, Madame Martial. But let us speak of
+the housekeeping: it is night, you must milk your cows, prepare the
+supper under the arbor, for you hear your husband's dogs bark, and
+soon the voice of their master, who, tired as he is, comes home
+singing. And why should he not sing, when, on a fine summer evening,
+with a contented mind, he regains his house, where a good wife and
+fine children await him?"
+
+"True, one could not do otherwise than sing," said La Louve, becoming
+more and more thoughtful.
+
+"At least, if one does not weep from joy," continued Fleur-de-Marie,
+herself affected. "And such tears are as sweet as songs. And then,
+when night has closed in, what happiness to remain under the arbor, to
+enjoy the serenity of a fine evening; to breathe the perfume of the
+forest; to hear the children prattle; to look at the stars! Then the
+heart is so full that it must be relieved by prayer. How not thank Him
+to whom one owes the freshness of the night, the perfume of the woods,
+the sweet light of the starry heavens? After these thanks or this
+prayer, you go to sleep peacefully until the morning, and then again
+you thank the Creator; for this poor, industrious, but calm and honest
+life, is that of every day."
+
+"Of every day!" repeated La Louve, her head on her bosom, her eyes
+fixed, her breathing oppressed; "for it is true, God is good to give
+us the power to live happy on so little."
+
+"Well, now, say," continued Fleur-de-Marie, gently, "say, ought he not
+be blessed and thanked next to Heaven, who would give you this
+peaceful and industrious life, instead of the miserable one you lead
+in the mud in the streets of Paris?"
+
+The word "Paris" called La Louve to the reality.
+
+A strange phenomenon had just been occurring in the mind, the soul of
+this creature. A natural picture of an humble working life, a simple
+recital, now lighted up by the soft glimmerings of a domestic
+fireside, gilded by some joyous rays of the sun, refreshed by the
+gentle winds of the forest, or perfumed by the odor of wild flowers,
+had made on La Louve an impression more profound, more striking, than
+all the exhortations of transcendent morality could have effected.
+Yes, as Fleur-de-Marie spoke, La Louve had yearned to be an
+indefatigable housekeeper, an honest wife, a pious and devoted mother.
+To inspire, even for a moment, a violent, immoral, degraded woman,
+with a love of family, the respect of duty, the desire to labor,
+gratitude toward the Creator, and that by promising her merely what
+God gives to all, the sun of Heaven and the shade of the forest, what
+man owes to the sweat of his brow, bread and shelter--was it not a
+triumph for Fleur-de-Marie? Would the moralist the most severe, the
+preacher the most fulminating, have obtained more by their menacing
+threats of every vengeance, human and Divine?
+
+The angry feelings shown by La Louve when she awoke from her dream to
+the reality, showed the effects or influence of the words of her
+companion. The more her regrets were bitter on awakening to the sense
+of her horrible position, the more the triumph of the Goualeuse was
+manifest.
+
+After a moment of silent reflection, La Louve suddenly raised her
+head, passed her hand over her face, and arose from her seat,
+threatening and angry.
+
+"You see that I had reason to avoid you, and not listen to you,
+because it only does me harm! Why have you talked in this way to me?--
+to laugh at me? to torment me? And because I was fool enough to tell
+you that I would like to live in a forest with Martial! But who are
+you, then? Why do you turn my head in this way? You do not know what
+you have done, unlucky girl! Now in spite of myself, I shall always be
+thinking of that wood, that house, those children, all that happiness,
+which I never shall have--never, never! And if I cannot forget what
+you have told me, my life will be a torment, a hell; and all by your
+fault--yes, by your fault!"
+
+"So much the better!--oh! so much the better!" said Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"You dare to say so?" cried La Louve, with threatening eyes.
+
+"Yes, so much the better; for if your miserable mode of living from
+henceforth proves a hell, you will prefer that of which I have
+spoken."
+
+"And what good for me to prefer it, since I cannot enjoy it? why
+regret being a girl of the streets, since I must die one?" cried La
+Louve, more and more irritated, seizing hold of the small hand of
+Fleur-de-Marie. "Answer--answer! Why have you made me wish for a life
+I cannot have?"
+
+"To wish for an honest and industrious life is to be worthy of such a
+life, I have told you," answered Fleur-de-Marie, without seeking to
+disengage her hand.
+
+"Well, what then, when I shall be worthy? what does it prove? how
+advance me?"
+
+"To see realized that which you regard as a dream," said Fleur-de-Marie,
+in a voice so serious and convincing that La Louve, again
+overpowered, abandoned the hand of La Goualeuse, and remained struck
+with astonishment. "Listen to me, La Louve," added Marie, in a voice
+full of compassion; "do not think me so cruel as to awaken in you
+these thoughts, these hopes, if I were not sure, in making you ashamed
+of your present condition, to give you the means to escape from it."
+
+"You cannot do that!"
+
+"I--no; but some one who is good, great, almost all-powerful."
+
+"All-powerful?"
+
+"Listen again, La Louve. Three months since, like you, I was a poor,
+lost, abandoned creature. One day, he, of whom I speak with tears of
+gratitude,"--Fleur-de-Marie wiped her tears--"came to me; he was not
+afraid, debased and despised although I was, to speak to me words of
+consolation--the first I ever heard! I told him my sufferings, misery,
+and shame, without concealing anything, just as you have now related
+to me your life, La Louve. After having listened to me with kindness,
+he did not blame--but pitied me, he did not deride me for my
+degradation, but extolled the happy and peaceful life of the country."
+
+"Like you just now."
+
+"Then my situation appeared the more frightful, as the possible future
+which he pointed out seemed to me more enchanting."
+
+"Like me also."
+
+"Yes; and like you I said, 'What good, alas! to show this Paradise to
+me, who am condemned to a hell upon earth?' But I was wrong to
+despair; for he of whom I speak is sovereignly just, sovereignly good,
+and incapable of causing a false hope to shine in the eyes of a poor
+creature who asked neither pity, nor hope, nor happiness from any
+one."
+
+"And what did he do for you?"
+
+"He treated me like a sick child; I was, like you, plunged in air
+corrupt, he sent me to respire a salubrious and vivifying atmosphere;
+I lived also among hideous and criminal beings; he confided me to
+beings made after his own image, who have purified my soul, elevated
+my mind; for, to all those he loves and respects, he gives a spark of
+his celestial intelligence. Yes, if my words move you, La Louve, if my
+tears cause your tears to flow, it is his mind, his thoughts inspire
+me! if I speak to you of a future more happy, which you will obtain by
+repentance, it is because I can promise you this future in his name,
+although he is now ignorant of the engagement I make. In short, if I
+say to you, 'Hope!' it is because he always hears the voice of those
+who desire to become better; for God has sent him on this earth to
+further the belief in Providence."
+
+Thus speaking, the countenance of Fleur-de-Marie became glowing and
+inspired; her pale cheeks were colored for a moment with a slight
+carnation; her beautiful blue eyes softly sparkled; she beamed forth a
+beauty so noble, so touching, that La Louve, profoundly affected at
+this conversation, looked at her companion with admiration, and cried,
+"Where am I? Do I dream? I have never heard nor seen anything like
+this; it is not possible! but who are you, once more? oh! I said truly
+that you were not one of us! But how is it that you who speak so well,
+who can do so much, who know such powerful people, are here, a
+prisoner with us? is it to tempt us? You are, then, for good--what the
+devil is for evil!"
+
+Fleur-de-Marie was about to reply, when Madame Armand came and
+interrupted her to conduct her to Madame d'Harvile. She said to La
+Louve, who remained dumb from surprise, "I see with pleasure that the
+presence of La Goualeuse in this prison has been beneficial to you and
+your companions. I know that you have made a collection for poor Mont
+Saint Jean; that is good and charitable, La Louve. It shall be
+reckoned to you. I was sure that you were better than you appeared to
+be. In recompense for your good action, I think I can promise you that
+your imprisonment shall be abridged by many days." And Madame Armand
+departed, followed by Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE PROTECTRESS.
+
+
+The inspectress entered, with Goualeuse, the room where Clemence was;
+the pale cheeks of the girl were slightly flushed from her earnest
+conversation with La Louve.
+
+"My lady the marchioness, pleased with the excellent accounts I have
+given of you," said Madame Armand to Fleur-de-Marie, "desires to see
+you, and perhaps will deign to obtain permission for you to leave here
+before the expiration of your time."
+
+"I thank you, madame," answered Fleur-de-Marie, timidly, to Madame
+Armand, who left her alone with the noble lady.
+
+Clemence, struck with the beautiful features of her _protegee_,
+and her graceful and modest bearing, could not help remembering that
+the Goualeuse had, in her sleep, pronounced the name of Rudolph, and
+that the inspectress believed her to be preyed upon by a deep and
+concealed love. Although perfectly convinced that the Grand Duke
+Rudolph could not be in question, Clemence allowed that, at least in
+point of beauty, La Goualeuse was worthy of the love of a prince. At
+the sight of her protectress, whose expression, as we have said, was
+that of ineffable goodness, Fleur-de-Marie felt herself irresistibly
+drawn toward her.
+
+"My child," said Clemence, "in praising much the sweetness of your
+disposition and the exemplary propriety of your conduct, Madame Armand
+complains of your want of confidence in her."
+
+Fleur-de-Marie held down her head without replying.
+
+"The peasant dress in which you were clothed when you were arrested,
+your silence on the subject of where you resided before you came here,
+prove that you conceal something."
+
+"Madame--"
+
+"I have no right to your confidence, my poor child; I wish to ask you
+no improper questions; only I am assured, that if I ask your release
+from prison it will be granted. Before I ask, I wish to talk with you
+of your projects and resources for the future. Once free, what will
+you do? If, as I doubt not, you are decided to follow in the good path
+you have entered, have confidence in me--I will put you in a way to
+gain your living honorably."
+
+La Goualeuse was affected to tears at the interest Madame d'Harville
+evinced for her. She said, after a moment's thought, "You deign,
+madame, to show yourself so benevolent and generous, that I ought,
+perhaps, to break the silence which I have hitherto preserved as to
+the past. An oath compelled me."
+
+"An oath?"
+
+"Yes, madame; I have sworn to conceal from justice, and from the
+persons employed in this prison, in what manner I have been brought
+here; yet, if you will, madame, make me a promise--"
+
+"What promise?"
+
+"To keep my secret. I can, thanks to you, madame, without breaking my
+oath, relieve some respectable people, who, doubtless, are very uneasy
+about me."
+
+"Count on my discretion; I will only tell what you authorize me to
+say."
+
+"Oh, thank you, madame! I feared so much that my silence toward my
+benefactors would look like ingratitude."
+
+The sweet tears of Fleur-de-Marie, her language, so well chosen,
+struck Madame d'Harville with renewed astonishment.
+
+"I cannot conceal from you," said she, "that your bearing, your words,
+all astonish me much. How, with an education such as you appear to
+have had, how could you---"
+
+"Fall so low, madame?" said the Goualeuse, bitterly.
+
+"Yes, alas!"
+
+"It is but a short time since I received it. I owe it to a generous
+protector, who, like you, madame, without knowing me, without ever
+having the favorable accounts which they have given you here of me,
+took compassion on me."
+
+"And who is this protector?"
+
+"I am ignorant, madame."
+
+"You are ignorant?"
+
+"He has only made himself known to me by his inexhaustible goodness.
+Thanks to heaven! I found myself in his way."
+
+"Where did you meet him?"
+
+"One night, in the city, madame," said La Goualeuse, casting down her
+eyes, "a man wanted to strike me; this unknown benefactor courageously
+defended me. Such was my first encounter with him."
+
+"He was, then, a man of the common order?"
+
+"The first time I saw him he had their dress and language, but
+afterward--"
+
+"Afterward?"
+
+"The manner in which he spoke to me, the profound respect shown him by
+the people to whom he confided me, all proved to me that he had
+disguised himself as one of the men who frequent the city."
+
+"But for what purpose?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"And the name of this mysterious protector, do you know it?"
+
+"Oh, yes, madame, thank heaven!" said Goualeuse, with warmth; "for I
+can bless and adore without ceasing this name. My deliverer is known
+as Rudolph, madame."
+
+Clemence blushed deeply.
+
+"And has he no other name?" asked she, quickly, of Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"I do not know, madame. At the farm where he sent me, he was only
+known by the name of Rudolph."
+
+"And his age?"
+
+"He is still young, madame."
+
+"And handsome?"
+
+"Oh, yes! handsome, noble--as his heart."
+
+The grateful, feeling manner with which Fleur-de-Marie pronounced
+these words, caused a disagreeable sensation to Madame d'Harville. An
+invincible, an inexplicable presentiment told her that this Rudolph
+was the prince.
+
+"The observations of the inspectress were well founded," thought
+Clemence. "The Goualeuse loves Rudolph; it was his name she pronounced
+in her sleep. Under what strange circumstances had the prince and this
+poor girl met? Why did Rudolph go disguised into the city?" She could
+not resolve these questions; only she remembered that Sarah had
+formerly, wickedly and falsely, related to her some pretended
+eccentricities of Rudolph, and of his strange amours. Was it not,
+indeed, strange that he had taken from a life of misery this creature,
+of ravishing beauty and of no common mind?
+
+Clemence had noble qualities, but she was a woman, and she loved
+Rudolph profoundly, although she had determined to bury this secret in
+the very depths of her heart. Without reflecting that this, no doubt,
+was one of those generous actions which the prince was accustomed to
+do secretly; without reflecting that, perhaps, she confounded with
+love a sentiment of warm gratitude; without reflecting, finally, that
+of this sentiment, even if it were more tender, Rudolph might be
+ignorant, the lady, in the first feeling of bitterness and injustice,
+could not prevent herself considering the Goualeuse as a rival. Her
+pride revolted in feeling that she blushed; that she suffered, in
+spite of herself, at a rivalry so abject. She resumed, then, in a cold
+manner, which cruelly contrasted with the affectionate benevolence of
+her first words, "And how is it, girl, that your protector leaves you
+in prison? How did you get here?"
+
+"Madame," said Fleur-de-Marie, timidly, struck with this change of
+language: "have I displeased you in any way?"
+
+"How could you have displeased me?" demanded Madame d'Harville, with
+haughtiness.
+
+"It seems to me that just now you spoke to me with more kindness,
+madame."
+
+"Truly, girl, must I weigh each of my words, since I consent to
+interest myself in you? I have the right, I think, to address you
+questions?"
+
+Hardly were these words pronounced than Clemence, for many reasons,
+regretted their severity. In the first place, by a praiseworthy return
+of generosity; then because she thought, by offending her rival, she
+could learn nothing more of what she wished to know.
+
+In effect, the countenance of La Goualeuse, one moment open and
+confiding, became instantly reserved.
+
+Like the sensitive plant, which at the first touch closes its delicate
+leaves, and folds them within its bosom, the heart of Fleur-de-Marie
+contracted painfully.
+
+Clemence resumed gently, not to awaken the suspicions of her
+_protegee_ by too sudden a change. "In truth, I repeat to you, I
+cannot comprehend that, having so much to praise in your benefactor,
+you should be a prisoner here; how, after having sincerely returned to
+the paths of rectitude, could you cause yourself to be arrested in a
+place to you interdicted? All this seems to me extraordinary. You
+speak of an oath which so far has imposed silence upon you; but this
+oath even is so strange!"
+
+"I have told the truth, madame."
+
+"I am sure of it; one has only to see and hear you to believe you
+incapable of a falsehood. But, what is incomprehensible in your
+situation, augments, irritates my impatient curiosity; it is only to
+that that you must attribute the sharpness of my words just now. Come,
+I avow I was wrong; for, although I had no other right to your
+confidence than my earnest wish to be useful to you, you have offered
+to tell me that which you have told to no one, and I am very sensible,
+believe me, my poor child, of this proof of your faith in the interest
+I have for you. Hence, I promise you, in guarding scrupulously your
+secret, if you confide it to me, I will do all in my power to meet
+your wishes."
+
+Thanks to this palliating speech, Madame d'Harville regained the
+confidence of La Goualeuse, for a moment impaired. Fleur-de-Marie, in
+her innocence, reproached herself for having misinterpreted the words
+which had wounded her.
+
+"Pardon me, madame," said she; "I was doubtless wrong not to tell you
+at once what you wished to know; but you asked me the name of my
+rescuer; in spite of myself, I cannot resist the pleasure of speaking
+of him."
+
+"Nothing is better; it proves how grateful you are toward him. But why
+have you left the good people with whom he had placed you? Does your
+oath have reference to this?"
+
+"Yes, madame; but thanks to you, I believe now, still keeping my word,
+I shall be able to satisfy my benefactors as to my disappearance."
+"Come, my poor child, I listen."  "It is about three months since M.
+Rudolph placed me at a farm situated four or five leagues hence."  "He
+conducted you there himself?"  "Yes, madame; he confided me to the
+care of a lady as good as she was venerable, whom I soon loved as a
+mother. She and the cure of the village, at the request of M. Rudolph,
+took charge of my education."  "And M. Rudolph often came to the
+farm?"  "No, madame; he came there only three times while I was
+there."  Clemence could not conceal a thrill of joy.  "And when he
+came to see you, it made you very happy, did it not?"  "Oh, yes,
+madame! it was for me more than happiness: It was a sentiment mixed
+with gratitude, respect, admiration, and even a little fear."  "Fear!"
+"From him to me--from him to others--the distance is so great!"  "But
+what is his rank?"  "I am ignorant if he has any rank, madame."  "Yet
+you speak of the distance which exists between him and others."  "Oh,
+madame! that which places him above the rest of the world is the
+elevation of his character--his inexhaustible generosity for those who
+suffer; it is the enthusiasm with which he inspires everybody. The
+wicked even cannot hear his name without trembling; they respect him
+as much as they fear him. But pardon me, madame, for having again
+spoken of him--I ought to be silent; for I should give you but an
+imperfect idea of him whom I ought to content myself with adoring to
+myself. As well attempt to express by words the grandeur of Heaven!
+This comparison is perhaps sacrilegious, madame. But will it offend to
+compare to Goodness itself the man who has given me a consciousness of
+good and evil--who has dragged me from the abyss--to whom I owe a new
+existence?"  "I do not blame you, my child; I comprehend your
+feelings. But how have you abandoned this farm, where you were so
+happy?"
+
+"Alas, it was not voluntary, madame!"
+
+"Who forced you, then?"
+
+"One night, a short time since," said Fleur-de-Marie, trembling at the
+recital, "I went to the parsonage of the village, when a wicked woman,
+who had treated me cruelly in my childhood, and a man, her accomplice,
+who was concealed with her in a ravine, threw themselves upon me,
+wrapped me up, and carried me off in a carriage."
+
+"For what purpose?"
+
+"I do not know, madame. My waylayers were acting, I think, under the
+orders of some powerful persons."
+
+"What then ensued?"
+
+"Hardly had the vehicle moved, than the bad woman, whose name was La
+Chouette (Screech-Owl), cried, 'I have got some vitriol; I am going to
+wash the face of La Goualeuse, to disfigure her.'"
+
+"How horrid! Unfortunate child! What saved you from that danger?"
+
+"The accomplice of this woman, a blind man, called the Schoolmaster."
+
+"He defended you?"
+
+"Yes, madame, on this occasion and on another. This time a struggle
+ensued between him and La Chouette. Availing himself of his strength,
+he forced her to throw out of the window the bottle which contained
+the vitriol. This was the first service he rendered me, after having
+assisted in carrying me off. The night was very dark. At the end of an
+hour and a half the carriage stopped, I believe on the high road which
+crosses the plain of Saint Denis; a man on horseback waited for us
+here. 'Well,' said he, 'have you got her at last?' 'Yes, we have her,'
+answered La Chouette, who was furious at having been prevented from
+disfiguring me. 'If you wish to get rid of this little thing there is
+a good way; I will stretch her on the road--drive the wheels of the
+carriage over her head--it will look as if she was run over by
+accident.'"
+
+"Oh, this is frightful!"
+
+"Alas, madame! La Chouette was well capable of doing what she said.
+Happily, the man on horseback said that he did not wish to harm me;
+that it was only necessary to keep me shut up for two months in some
+place where I could neither get out nor write to any one. Then La
+Chouette proposed to take me to a man called Bras-Rouge, who kept a
+tavern in the Champs Elysees. In this tavern there were several
+subterranean chambers; one of them, La Chouette said, could answer for
+my prison. The man on horseback accepted this proposition. Then he
+promised me that, after remaining two months with Bras-Rouge, I should
+be so provided for that I would not regret the farm at Bouqueval."
+
+"What a strange mystery!"
+
+"This man gave some money to La Chouette, promising her some more when
+I should be taken from Bras-Rouge, and set out on a gallop. We
+continued our route toward Paris. A short time before we arrived at
+the gates, the Schoolmaster said to La Chouette, 'You wish to shut up
+La Goualeuse in one of Bras-Rouge's cellars; you know very well that,
+being near the river, these cellars in winter are always inundated. Do
+you wish to drown her?' 'Yes,' answered La Chouette."
+
+"But what had you done to this horrible woman?"
+
+"Nothing, madame: and yet, since my infancy, she has always shown this
+feeling toward me. The Schoolmaster answered, 'I will not have the
+Goualeuse drowned; she shall not go to Bras-Rouge.' La Chouette was as
+much surprised as I was, madame, to hear this man defend me thus. She
+became furious, and swore that she would take me to Bras-Rouge in
+spite of him. 'I defy you,' said he,' for I have La Goualeuse by the
+arm; I will not let her go, and I'll strangle you if you come near
+her.' But what do you mean to do with her?' cried La Chouette, 'since
+she must be put out of the way for two months.' 'There is a way,' said
+the Schoolmaster; 'we are going to the Champs Elysees; we will stop
+the carriage near the guard-house; you will go and look for Bras-Rouge
+at his tavern. It is midnight; you will find him there; bring him with
+you; he will take La Goualeuse to the post, and declare she is a gay
+girl, whom he found near his tavern. As they are condemned to three
+months' imprisonment when they are caught on the Champs Elysees, and
+Goualeuse is still on the police lists, she will be arrested, and sent
+to Saint Lazare, where she will be as well guarded and concealed as in
+the cellar of Bras-Rouge.' 'But,' replied La Chouette, 'the Goualeuse
+will not suffer herself to be arrested; once at the guard-house, she
+will tell all, she will denounce us. Supposing, even, that she is
+imprisoned, she will write to her protectors; all will be discovered.'
+'No, she will go to prison willingly,' answered the School-master; 'she
+must swear that she will not denounce us to any one as long as she
+remains at Saint Lazare, nor afterward either. She owes as much to me,
+for I have prevented her being disfigured by you, and drowned at
+Bras-Rouge's; but if after having sworn not to speak, she should do
+it, we will set the farm at Bouqueval a-fire.' Then, addressing me, he
+said, 'Decide! swear the oath I ask, you shall go to prison for two
+months; otherwise I abandon you to La Chouette, who will take you to
+the cellar, where you'll be drowned. Come, decide. I know If you swear
+you will keep your oath.'"
+
+"And you have sworn?"
+
+"Alas! yes, madame; I feared so much to be disfigured by La Chouette,
+or to be drowned in a cellar; that appeared to me so frightful. Any
+other kind of death would nave appeared less fearful. I should not,
+perhaps, have endeavored to escape."
+
+"What a gloomy idea at your age!" said Madame d'Harville, looking at
+La Goualeuse with surprise. "Once away from this place, returned to
+your benefactors, will you not be very happy? Has not your repentance
+effaced the past?"
+
+"Can the past be effaced? Can the past be forgotten? Can repentance
+destroy the memory, madame?" cried Fleur-de-Marie, in a tone so
+despairing that Clemence shuddered.
+
+"But all faults can be redeemed, unhappy child!"
+
+"But the recollection of the stain--madame, does it not become more
+and more terrible in measure as the mind is purified, as the soul
+becomes elevated? Alas! the more you mount the deeper appears the
+abyss from which you have emerged."
+
+"Then you renounce all hope of re-establishment and pardon?"
+
+"On the part of others--no, madame; your goodness proves that
+indulgence is never wanting to the penitent."
+
+"You will, then, be the only one without pity toward yourself?"
+
+"Others may be ignorant, may pardon and forget what I have been. I,
+madame, never can forget."'
+
+"And sometimes you wish to die?"
+
+"Sometimes!" said La Goualeuse, smiling bitterly, "yes, madame,
+sometimes."
+
+"Yet you feared to be disfigured by that horrible woman? you cling to
+your beauty, then, poor child? That announces that life has some
+charms for you. Courage, then--courage!"
+
+"It is, perhaps, a weakness to think so; but if I were handsome, as
+you say, madame, I should wish to die handsome, in pronouncing the
+name of my benefactor."
+
+The eyes of Madame d'Harville filled with tears.
+
+Fleur-de-Marie had said these words so simply; her angelic features,
+pale and cast down, her mournful smile, were so much in unison with
+her words, that no one could doubt the reality of her gloomy desire.
+Madame d'Harville was endowed with too much sensibility not to feel
+what was fatal and inflexible in this thought of La Goualeuse-_ "I
+shall never forget what I have been" _--a fixed, constant idea,
+which would predominate and torture the life of Fleur-de-Marie.
+Clemence, ashamed at having for a moment misunderstood the generosity,
+always so disinterested, of the prince, also regretted that she should
+have had for a moment a feeling of jealousy toward La Goualeuse, who
+had expressed, with so much warmth, her gratitude toward her
+protector. Strange thing--the admiration which this poor prisoner
+showed so vividly for Rudolph, augmented, perhaps, still more the
+profound love which Clemence was forever to conceal from him. She
+resumed, to drive away her thoughts: "I hope that, in future, you will
+be less severe toward yourself. But let us speak of your oath; now I
+can understand your silence. You did not wish to denounce the
+wretches?"
+
+"Although the Schoolmaster took part in my abduction, he had twice
+defended me--I was afraid of being ungrateful toward him."
+
+"And you lent yourself to the designs of these monsters?"
+
+"Yes, madame, I was so much alarmed! La Chouette went to seek
+Bras-Rouge; he took me to the guard-house, saying he found me roving
+about his inn; I did not deny it; I was arrested, and brought here."
+
+"But your friends at the farm must be very much alarmed."
+
+"Alas, madame, in my fright I did not reflect that my oath would
+prevent me from informing them; now it gives me much pain, but I
+believe that, without breaking my oath, I can beg you to write to
+Madame George, at the farm of Bouqueval, to have no uneasiness about
+me, without telling her where I am, for I have promised to be silent."
+
+"My child, these precautions will become useless if, at my
+recommendation, you are pardoned; to-morrow you shall return to the
+farm, without having broken your oath; you can then consult your
+benefactors, to know how far you are restricted by this oath, drawn
+from you by threats."
+
+"You think, madame, that, thanks to your kindness, I can hope to leave
+here soon?"
+
+"You deserve so much interest, that I shall succeed, I am sure, and I
+doubt not that after to-morrow you can go yourself to reassure your
+benefactors."
+
+"How can I have merited so much kindness on your ladyship's part? How
+can I show my gratitude?"
+
+"By continuing to conduct yourself as you have done. I only regret I
+can do nothing for your future welfare-it is a pleasure that your
+friends have reserved."
+
+Madame Armand entered suddenly, with an alarmed air.
+
+"Madame," said she to Clemence, with hesitation, "I am grieved at the
+message I have to deliver to you."
+
+"What do you mean to say, madame?"
+
+"The Duke de Lucenay is below-he comes from your house, madame."
+
+"You frighten me; what is it?"
+
+"I am ignorant, madame, but M. de Lucenay has information for you, he
+says, as sad, as it was unforeseen. He learned at his wife's that you
+were here and he came in all haste."
+
+"Sad news!" said Madame d'Harville. Then suddenly she cried in a
+heart-rending tone, "My daughter-my child, perhaps! Oh, speak,
+madame!"
+
+"I am ignorant, madame."
+
+"Oh! in mercy, madame, take me to M. de Lucenay," cried Madame
+d'Harville, going out, quite bewildered, and followed by Madame
+Armand.
+
+"Poor mother!" said the Gonaleuse, sadly; "oh, now, it is impossible!
+At the moment even when she was showing so much benevolence toward me,
+such a blow to fall! No, no-once more, it is impossible!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+A FORGED INTIMACY.
+
+
+We will conduct the reader to the house in the Rue du Temple, the day
+of the suicide of M. d'Harville, about three o'clock in the afternoon.
+Pipelet, the porter, alone in the lodge, was occupied in mending a
+boot. The chaste porter was dejected and melancholy. As a soldier, in
+the humiliation of his defeat, passes his hand sadly over his scars,
+Pipelet breathed a profound sigh, stopped his work, and moved his
+trembling finger over the transverse fracture of his huge hat, made by
+an insolent hand. Then all the chagrin, inquietude, and fears of
+Alfred Pipelet were awakened in thinking of the inconceivable and
+incessant pursuits of the author.
+
+Pipelet had not a very extended or elevated mind; his imagination was
+not the most lively nor the most poetical, but he possessed a very
+solid, very logical, very common sense.
+
+Cabrion, a painter, formerly a tenant, had seen fit to make the porter
+a butt of the most audacious practical jokes, inundating him with
+caricatures, laughable labels, and startling appearances before his
+unexpectant appalled sight. Unfortunately, by a natural consequence of
+the rectitude of his judgment, not being able to comprehend practical
+jokes, Pipelet endeavored to find some reasonable motive for the
+outrageous conduct of Cabrion, and on this subject he posed himself
+with a thousand insoluble questions. Thus, sometimes, a new Paschal,
+he felt himself seized with a vertigo in trying to sound the
+bottomless abyss which the infernal genius of the painter had dug
+under his feet. How many times, in the overflowings of his
+imagination, he had been forced to commune within himself thanks to
+the frenzied skepticism of Madame Pipelet, who, only looking at facts,
+and disdaining to seek after causes, grossly considered the
+incomprehensible conduct of Cabrion toward Alfred as simple
+comicality.
+
+Pipelet, a serious man, could not admit of such an interpretation; he
+groaned at the blindness of his wife; his dignity as a man revolted at
+the thought that he could be the plaything of a combination so vulgar
+as a _lark!_ He was absolutely convinced that the unheard-of
+conduct of Cabriori concealed some mysterious plot under a frivolous
+appearance.
+
+It was to solve this fatal problem that the man in the big hat
+exhausted his powerful logic. "I would sooner lay my head on the
+scaffold," said this austere man, who, as soon as he touched them,
+increased immensely the importance of any propositions. "I would
+sooner lay my head upon the scaffold than admit that, in the mere
+intention of a stupid pleasantry, Cabrion could be so obstinately
+exasperated against me; a _farce_ is only played for the gallery.
+Now, in his last undertaking, this obnoxious creature had no witness;
+he acted alone and in obscurity, as always; he clandestinely
+introduced himself into the solitude of my lodge to deposit on my
+forehead a hideous kiss! I ask any disinterested person, for what
+purpose? It was not from bravado--no one saw him; it was not from
+pleasure--the laws of nature opposed it; it was not from friendship--I
+have but one enemy in the world--it is he. It must, then, be
+acknowledged that there is a mystery there which my reason cannot
+penetrate! Then to what does this diabolical plot, concerted and
+pursued with a persistence which alarms me, tend? That I cannot
+comprehend: it is this impossibility to raise the veil, which, by
+degrees, is undermining and consuming me."
+
+Such were the painful reflections of Pipelet at the moment when we
+present him to our readers. The honest porter had just torn open his
+bleeding wounds, by carry--his hand mechanically to the fracture of
+his hat, when a piercing voice, coming from one of the upper stories
+of the house, made these words resound again: "Mr. Pipelet, quick!
+quick! come up! make haste!"
+
+"I do not know that voice," said Alfred, after a moment of anxious
+listening, and he let his arm, inclosed in the boot he was mending,
+fall on his knees.
+
+"Mr. Pipelet! make haste!" repeated the voice, in a pressing tone.
+
+"That voice is completely strange to me. It is masculine; it calls me,
+that I can affirm. It is not a sufficient reason that I should abandon
+my lodge. Leave it--desert it in the absence of my wife--never!" cried
+Alfred, heroically, "never!"
+
+"Mr. Pipelet," said the voice, "come up quick, Mrs. Pipelet is off in
+a swoon."
+
+"Anastasia!" cried Alfred, rising from his seat: then be fell back
+again, saying to himself, "child that I am--it is impossible; my wife
+went out an hour ago. Yes, but might she not have returned without my
+seeing her? This would be rather irregular; but I must declare that it
+is possible."
+
+"Mr. Pipelet, come up; I have your wife in my arms!"
+
+"Some one has my wife in their arms!" said Pipelet, rising abruptly.
+
+"I cannot unlace Mrs. Pipelet all alone!" added the voice.
+
+These words produced a magical effect upon Alfred: his face flushed,
+his chastity revolted.
+
+"The masculine and unknown voice speaks of unlacing Anastasia!" cried
+he: "I oppose it, I forbid it!" and he rushed out of the lodge; but on
+the threshold he stopped.
+
+Pipelet found himself in one of those horribly critical, and eminently
+dramatical positions, so often described by poets. On the one hand,
+duty retained him in his lodge: on the other, his chaste and conjugal
+susceptibility called him to the upper stories of the house. In the
+midst of these terrible perplexities, the voice said:
+
+"You don't come, Mr. Pipelet? so much the worse--I cut the strings,
+and I shut my eyes!"
+
+This threat decided Pipelet.
+
+"Mossieur!" cried he, in a stentorian voice, "in the name of honor I
+conjure you to cut nothing--to leave my wife intact! I come!" and
+Alfred rushed upstairs, leaving, in his alarm, the door of the lodge
+open. Hardly had he left it, than a man entered quickly, took from the
+table a hammer, jumped on the bed, at the back part of the obscure
+alcove, and vanished. This operation was done so quickly, that the
+porter, remembering almost immediately that he had left the door open,
+returned precipitately, shut it, and carried off the key, without
+suspecting that any one could have entered in this interval. After
+this measure of precaution, Alfred started again to the assistance of
+Anastasia, crying, with all his strength, "Cut nothing--I am coming--
+here I am--I place my wife under the safeguard of your delicacy!"
+
+Hardly had he mounted the first flight, before he heard the voice of
+Anastasia, not from the upper story, but in the alley.
+
+The voice, shriller than ever cried, "Alfred! here you leave the lodge
+alone! Where are you, old gadabout?"
+
+At this moment, Pipelet was about placing his right foot on the
+landing-place of the first story; he remained petrified, his head
+turned toward the bottom of the stairs, his mouth open, his eyes
+fixed, his foot raised.
+
+"Alfred!" cried Mrs. Pipelet anew.
+
+"Anastasia is below--she is not above, occupied in being sick," said
+Pipelet to himself, faithful to his logical argumentation. "But then
+this unknown and masculine voice, who threatened to unlace her, is an
+impostor. He has been playing a cruel game with my emotions! What is
+his design? There is something extraordinary going on here! No matter:
+do your duty, happen what may! After having responded to my wife, I
+shall mount to enlighten this mystery and verify this voice."
+
+Pipelet descended, very much troubled, and found himself face to face
+with his wife.
+
+"It is you?" said he.
+
+"Well! yes, it is me; who would you have it to be?"
+
+"It is you--my eyes do not deceive me!"
+
+"Ah, now! what is the matter, that makes your big eyes look like
+billiard balls? You look at me as if you were going to eat me."
+
+"Your presence reveals to me that something has been passing here--
+things--"
+
+"What things? Come, give me the key of the lodge; why do you leave it?
+I come from the office of the Normandy diligences, where I went in a
+hack, to carry the trunk of M. Bradamanti, who did not wish it to be
+known that he was about to leave town to-night, and who could not
+depend on that little scoundrel Tortillard (Hoppy)--and he is right!"
+
+Saying these words, Mrs. Pipelet took the key, which her husband held
+in his hand, opened the lodge, and went in before her husband.
+
+Hardly had they entered, when a person, descending the staircase
+lightly, passed rapidly and unperceived before the lodge. It was the
+"masculine voice" which had so deeply excited the inquietudes of
+Alfred.
+
+Pipelet rested himself heavily on his chair, and said to his wife in a
+trembling voice, "Anastasia, I do not feel at my accustomed ease;
+things occurring here--events--"
+
+"Now you repeat that again; but things occur everywhere; what is the
+matter? Come, let us see--why, you are all wet--all in a perspiration!
+what effort have you been making? He's all a-trickling--the old
+darling!"
+
+"Yes, I perspire, as I have reason to;" Pipelet passed his hand over
+his face, dripping with moisture; "for there are regular revolutionary
+events passing here."
+
+"Again I ask, what is it? You never can remain quiet. You must always
+be trotting about like a cat, instead of remaining in your chair to
+take care of the lodge."
+
+"If I trot, it is for you."
+
+"For me?"
+
+"Yes; to spare you an outrage for which we both should have groaned
+and blushed, I have deserted a post which I consider as sacred as the
+sentry-box."
+
+"Some one wished to commit an outrage on me--on me!"
+
+"It was not on you, since the outrage of which you were threatened was
+to have been accomplished upstairs, and you were gone out--"
+
+"May Old Harry run away with me, if I understand a single word of what
+you are singing there. Ah, ah! is it that you are decidedly losing your
+noddle? I shall begin to think that you are absent-minded--the fault
+of that beggarly Cabrion! Since his games of the other day, I don't
+know you; you look struck all of a heap. That being will be always
+your nightmare."
+
+Hardly had Anastasia pronounced the words than a strange thing came to
+pass. Alfred remained sitting, his face turned toward the bed. The
+lodge was lighted by the sickly light of a winter's day, and by a
+lamp. At the moment his wife pronounced the name Cabrion, Pipelet
+thought he saw in the shade of the alcove the immovable, cunning face
+of the painter. It was he, his pointed hat, long hair, thin face,
+satanic smile, queer beard, and paralyzing gaze. For a moment, Pipelet
+thought himself in a dream; he passed his hand over his eyes,
+believing that he was the victim of an illusion. It was not an
+illusion. Nothing could be more real than this apparition. Frightful
+thing! nobody could be seen, but only a head, of which the living
+flesh stood out in bold relief from the obscurity of the alcove. At
+this sight Pipelet fell over backward, without saying a word; he
+raised his right arm toward the bed, and pointed at this terrible
+vision, with a gesture so alarming, that Mrs. Pipelet turned to seek
+the cause of an alarm of which she soon partook, in spite of her
+habitual courage. She recoiled two steps, seized with force the hand
+of Alfred, and cried, "Cabrion!"
+
+"Yes," murmured Pipelet, in a hollow voice, almost extinct, shutting
+his eyes.
+
+The stupor of the pair paid the greatest honor to the talent of the
+artist who had so admirably painted on the pasteboard the features of
+Cabrion. Her first surprise over, Anastasia, as bold as a lion, ran to
+the bed, got on it, and tore the picture from the wall.
+
+The amazon crowned this valiant enterprise by shouting, as a war-cry,
+her favorite exclamation, "Go ahead!"
+
+Alfred, with his eyes closed, his hands stretched forth, remained
+immovable, as he had always been accustomed to do in the critical
+moments of his life. The convulsive oscillations of his hat alone
+revealed, from time to time, the continued violence of his interior
+emotions.
+
+"Open your eyes, old darling," said Mrs. Pipelet, triumphantly; "it's
+nothing! it's a picture; the portrait of that scoundrel Cabrion! Look,
+see how I stamp upon him!" and Anastasia, in her indignation, threw
+the picture on the ground, and trampled it under her feet, crying,
+"That's the way I would like to treat his flesh and bones, the
+wretch!" then picking it up, "see!" said she, "now it has my marks;
+look now!"
+
+Alfred shook his head negatively, without saying a word, and making a
+sign to his wife to take away the detested picture.
+
+"Has ever any one seen such impudence? This is not all; he has
+written at the bottom, in red letters, 'Cabrion, to his good friend
+Pipelet, for life,'" said the portress, examining the picture by the
+light.
+
+"His good friend for life!" murmured Alfred; raising his hands as if
+to call heaven to witness this new outrageous irony.
+
+[Illustration: Louise in Prison]
+
+"But how could he do it?" said Anastasia. "This portrait was not there
+this morning when I made the bed, very sure. You took the key with you
+just now: nobody could have entered while you were absent? How, then,
+once more, could this portrait get there? Could it be you, by chance,
+who put it there, old darling?"
+
+At this monstrous hypothesis, Alfred bounced from his seat; he opened
+his eyes wide and threatening.
+
+"I fasten in my alcove the portrait of this evil-doer, who, not
+content with persecuting me by his odious presence, pursues me at
+night in my dreams--the daytime in a picture! Would you make me mad,
+Anastasia? mad enough to be chained?"
+
+"Well! for the sake of making peace, you might have agreed with
+Cabrion during my absence. Where would be the great harm?"
+
+"I make up with--oh, merciful powers! you hear her?"
+
+"And then, he might have given you his portrait, as a pledge of
+friendship. If this is so, do not deny it."
+
+"Anastasia!"
+
+"If this is so, it must be confessed you are as capricious as a pretty
+woman."
+
+"Wife!"
+
+"In short, it must have been you who placed the portrait!"
+
+"I--oh!"
+
+"But who is it then?"
+
+"You, madame."
+
+"I!"
+
+"Yes," cried Pipelet wildly, "it is you; I have reason to believe it
+is you. This morning, having my back turned toward the bed I could see
+nothing."
+
+"But, old darling, I tell you it must be you, otherwise I shall think
+it was the devil."
+
+"I have not left the lodge, and when I went upstairs to answer to the
+call of the masculine organ, I had the key; the door was shut. You
+opened it; deny that!"
+
+"Ma foi; it is true!"
+
+"You confess, then?"
+
+"I confess that I comprehend nothing. It's a game, and it is prettily
+played."
+
+"A game!" cried Pipelet, carried away by frenzied indignation. "Ah!
+there you are again! I tell you, I, that all this conceals some
+abominable plot; there is something under all this--a plot. The abyss
+is hidden under flowers--they try to stun me to prevent my seeing the
+precipice from which they wish to plunge me. It only remains for me to
+place myself under the protection of the laws. Happily, the Lord is on
+our side;" and Pipelet turned toward the door,
+
+"Where are you going, old darling?"
+
+"To the commissary's, to lodge my complaint, and this portrait as
+proof of the persecutions I am overwhelmed with."
+
+"But what will you complain of?"
+
+"What will I complain of? How! my most inveterate enemy shall find
+means by proceeding fraudulently to force me to have his portrait in
+my house, even on my nuptial bed, and the magistrates will not take me
+under the aegis? Give me the portrait, Anastasia--give it to me--not
+the side where the painting is, the sight revolts me! The traitor
+cannot deny it; it is in his hand; Cabrion to his good friend Pipelet,
+for life. For life! Yes, that's it; for my life, without doubt, he
+pursues me, and he will finish by having it. I live in continual
+alarm: I shall think that this infernal being is here, always here--
+under the floor, in the walls, in the ceiling! at night he sees me
+reposing in the arms of my wife; in the daytime he is standing behind
+me, always with his satanic smile; and who will tell me that even at
+this moment he is not here, concealed somewhere, like a venomous
+insect? Come, now! are you there, monster? Are you here?" cried
+Pipelet, accompanying this furious imprecation with a circular
+movement of the head, as if he had wished to interrogate all parts of
+the lodge.
+
+"I am here, good friend!" said most affectionately the well-known
+voice of Cabrion.
+
+These words seemed to come from the bottom of the alcove, merely from
+the effects of ventriloquism; for the infernal artist was standing
+outside the door of the lodge, enjoying the smallest details of this
+scene; however, after having pronounced these last words, he prudently
+made off, not without leaving, as we shall see, a new subject of rage,
+astonishment, and meditation to his victim. Mrs. Pipelet, always
+courageous and skeptical, looked under the bed, and in every hole and
+corner, without success, while M. Pipelet, undone by the last blow,
+had fallen on the chair in a state of utter despair.
+
+"It's nothing, Alfred," said Anastasia; "the scoundrel was concealed
+behind the door, and while I looked one way, he escaped the other.
+Patience, I'll catch him one of these days, and then, let him look
+out! he shall taste the handle of my broom!"
+
+The door opened, and Mrs. Seraphin, housekeeper of Jacques Ferrand,
+entered.
+
+"Good-day, Mrs. Seraphin," said Mrs. Pipelet, who, wishing to conceal
+from a stranger her domestic sorrows, assumed a very gracious and
+smiling air; "what can I do to serve you?"
+
+"First, tell me, then, what is your new sign?"
+
+"New sign?"
+
+"The little sign."
+
+"A little sign?"
+
+"Yes, black with red letters, which is nailed over the door of your
+alley."
+
+"In the street?"
+
+"Why, yes, in the street, just over your door."
+
+"My dear Mrs. Seraphin, may I never speak again, if I understand a
+word; and you, old darling?" Alfred remained dumb.
+
+"In truth, it concerns Mr. Pipelet," said Mrs. Seraphin; "he must
+explain this to me."
+
+Alfred uttered a sort of low, inarticulate groan, shaking his hat, a
+pantomime signifying that Alfred found himself incapable of explaining
+anything to others, being sufficiently preoccupied with an infinity of
+problems, each one more difficult of solution than the other.
+
+"Pay no attention, Mrs. Seraphin," said Anastasia. "Poor Alfred has
+got the cramp; that makes him--"
+
+"But what is this sign, then, of which you speak?"
+
+"Perhaps our neighbor--"
+
+"No, no; I tell you it is a little sign nailed over your door."
+
+"Come, you want to joke."
+
+"Not at all; I saw it as I came in. There is written on it in large
+letters, 'Pipelet and Cabrion, Dealers in Friendship, etc. Apply
+within.'"
+
+"That's written over our door, do you hear, Alfred?"
+
+Pipelet looked at Mrs. Seraphin with a wild stare. He did not
+comprehend; he did not wish to comprehend.
+
+"It is in the street--on a sign!" repeated Mrs. Pipelet, confounded at
+this new audacity.
+
+"Yes, for I have just read it. Then I said to myself, 'What a funny
+thing! Pipelet is a cobbler by trade, and he informs the passer-by
+that he is engaged in a _commerce d'amitie_ with Cabrion. What
+does it signify? There is something concealed, it is clear; but as
+the sign says inquire within, Mrs. Pipelet will explain it." "But look
+there," cried Mrs. Seraphin, suddenly, "your husband looks as if he
+was sick; take care, he will fall backward!"
+
+Mrs. Pipelet received Alfred in her arms, in a fainting state. This
+last blow had been too violent; the man nearly lost all consciousness
+as he pronounced these words:
+
+"The creature has publicly posted me."
+
+"I told you, Mrs. Seraphin, Alfred has the cramp, without speaking of
+an unchained blackguard, who undermines him with his sorry tricks. The
+poor old darling cannot resist it! Happily, I have a drop of bitters
+here; probably it will put him on his legs."
+
+In fact, thanks to the infallible remedy of Mrs. Pipelet, Alfred by
+degrees recovered his senses; but, alas! hardly had he come to, than
+he had to undergo another trial.
+
+A middle-aged person, neatly dressed, and with a pleasing face, opened
+the door, and said, "I have just seen on a sign placed over this door,
+'Pipelet and Cabrion, Dealers in Friendship.' Can you, if you please,
+do me the honor to inform me what this means--you being the porter of
+this house?"
+
+"What this means!" cried Pipelet in a thundering voice, giving vent to
+his indignation, too long suppressed; "this means that Mr. Cabrion is
+an infamous impostor, sir!"
+
+The man, at this sudden and furious explosion, drew back a step.
+Alfred, much exasperated, with a fiery look and purple face, had
+stretched his body half out of the lodge, and leaned his contracted
+hands on the lower half of the door, while the figures of Mrs.
+Seraphin and Anastasia could be vaguely seen in the background, in the
+semi-obscure light of the lodge.
+
+"Learn, sir," cried Pipelet, "that I have no dealings with this
+scoundrel Cabrion, and that of friendship still less than any other!"
+
+"It is true; and you must be very queer, old noodle that you are to
+come and ask such a question," cried Madame Pipelet, sharply, showing
+her quarrelsome face over the shoulder of her husband.
+
+"Madame!" said the man sententiously, falling back another step,
+"notices are made to be read; you put them up, I read; I have the
+right to do so, but you have no right to say such rude things."
+
+"Rude things yourself, you beggarly wretch!" replied Anastasia,
+showing her teeth. "You are a low-bred fellow. Alfred, your boot-tree,
+till I take the length of his muzzle, to teach him to come and play
+the Joe Miller at his age, old clown!"
+
+"Insults when one comes to ask the meaning of a notice placed over
+your own door? It shall not pass over in this way, madame!"
+
+"But, sir!" cried the unhappy porter.
+
+"But, sir," answered the quiz, pretending to be angry, "be as friendly
+as you please with your Mr. Cabrion, but zounds! don't stick it in
+large letters under the noses of the passers-by! I find myself under
+the necessity of telling you that you are a pitiful wretch, and that I
+shall go and make my complaint to the authorities!" and the quiz
+departed in a great rage.
+
+"Anastasia!" said Mr. Pipelet, in a sorrowful tone, "I shall not
+survive this, I feel it; I am wounded to death. I have no hope of
+escaping him. You see, my name is publicly stuck up alongside of this
+wretch. He dares to say that I have a friendly trade with him, and the
+public will believe it. I inform you--I say it--I communicate it; it
+is monstrous, it is enormous it is an infernal idea: but it must
+finish; the measure is full; either he or I must fall in this
+struggle!" and, overcoming his habitual apathy, Pipelet, determined on
+a vigorous resolution, seized the portrait of Cabrion, and rushed
+toward the door.
+
+"Where are you going to, Alfred?"
+
+"To the commissary's. At the same time I am going to tear down this
+infamous sign; then with this portrait and this sign in my hand, I
+will cry to the commissary, 'Defend me! avenge me! deliver me from
+Cabrion!'"
+
+"Well said, old darling; stir yourself, shake yourself; if you cannot
+get the sign down, ask the next door to help you, and lend you his
+ladder."
+
+"Rascally Cabrion! Oh, if I had him, and I could do it, I'd fry him on
+my stove. I should like so much to see him suffer. Yes, people are
+guillotined who do not deserve it as much as he does. The wretch! I
+should like to see him on the scaffold, the villain!"
+
+Alfred showed under these circumstances the most sublime equanimity.
+Notwithstanding his great causes of revenge against Cabrion, he had
+the generosity to feel sentiments akin to pity for him.
+
+"No," said he; "no; even if I could, I would not ask for his head."
+
+"As for me, I would. Go do it!" cried the ferocious Anastasia.
+
+"No," replied Alfred; "I do not like blood; but I have a right to
+claim the perpetual seclusion of this evil-doer; my repose requires
+it; my health commands it; the law accords me this reparation;
+otherwise, I leave la France--ma belle France! That is what they'll
+gain!"
+
+And Alfred, swallowed up in his grief, walked majestically out of the
+lodge, like one of those imposing victims of ancient fatality.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+CECILY.
+
+
+Before we relate the conversation between Mrs. Seraphin and Mrs.
+Pipelet, we will inform the reader that Anastasia, without suspecting
+the least in the world the virtue and devotion of the notary, blamed
+extremely the severity he had shown toward Louise Morel and Germain.
+Naturally she included Mrs. Seraphin in her reprobation; but like a
+skillful politician, for reasons which we will show by and by, she
+concealed her feeling for the housekeeper under a most cordial
+reception. After having formally disapproved of the unworthy conduct
+of Cabrion, Mrs. Seraphin added, "What has become of M. Bradamanti
+(Polidori)? Last night I wrote to him--no answer; this morning I came
+to find him--no one. I hope this time I shall be more fortunate."
+
+Mrs. Pipelet feigned to be very much vexed.
+
+"Ah!" cried she, "you must have bad luck."
+
+"How?"
+
+"M. Bradamanti has not come in."
+
+"It is insupportable!"
+
+"It is vexing, my poor Mrs. Seraphin!"
+
+"I have so much to say to him."
+
+"It is just like fate."
+
+"So much the more, as I have to invent so many pretexts for coming
+here; for if M. Ferrand ever suspected that I knew a quack, he being
+so devout and scrupulous, you can judge of the scene."
+
+"Just like Alfred. He is so prudish, that he is startled at
+everything." "And you do not know when Bradamanti will come in?"
+
+"He made an appointment for six or seven o'clock in the evening, for
+he told me to say to the person to call again if he had not returned.
+Come back this evening, you will be sure to find him." Anastasia added
+to herself: "You can count on this: in one hour he will be on the road
+to Normandy."
+
+"I will return then to-night," said Mrs. Seraphin, much annoyed; "but
+I have something else to say to you, my dear Mrs. Pipelet. You know
+what has happened to this wench of a Louise, whom every one thought so
+virtuous?"
+
+"Don't speak of it," answered Mrs. Pipelet, raising her eyes with
+compunction, "it makes my hair stand on end."
+
+"I want to tell you that we have no servant; and that if by chance you
+should hear a girl spoken of, virtuous, hard-working, honest, you will
+be very kind if you will address her to me. Good subjects are so
+difficult to find, that one has to look on all sides for them."
+
+"Be quite easy, Mrs. Seraphin. If I hear of any one, I will inform
+you. Good places are as difficult to find as good subjects;" then she
+added mentally, "Very likely I'd send you a poor girl to be starved to
+death in your hovel! Your master is too miserly and too wicked--to
+denounce, in one breath, poor Louise and poor M. Germain."
+
+"I need not tell you," said Mrs. Seraphin, "how quiet our house is; a
+girl gains much by getting there, and this Louise must have been an
+incarnate imp to have turned out so bad, notwithstanding all the good
+and holy advice M. Ferrand gave her."
+
+"Certainly, so depend upon me; if I hear any one spoken of that I
+think will answer, I will send them to you."
+
+"There is one thing more," said Mrs. Seraphin; "M. Ferrand prefers
+that this servant should have no family, because, you comprehend,
+having no occasion to go out, she will run less risk; so, if by chance
+she could be found, monsieur would prefer an orphan, I suppose; in the
+first place, because it would be a good action, and then because,
+having no friends, she would have no pretext to go out. This miserable
+Louise is a good lesson for him, my poor Mrs. Pipelet! That's what
+makes him so hard to please in the choice of a domestic. Such a
+scandalous affair in a pious house like ours--how horrid! well,
+goodbye; to-night, when I go to see M. Bradamanti, I'll call upon
+Madame Burette."
+
+"Good-bye, Mrs. Seraphin--you will certainly see him to-night."
+
+Mrs. Seraphin took her departure.
+
+"Isn't she crazy after Bradamanti!" said Mrs. Pipelet. "What can she
+want with him? and wasn't he crazy for fear he should see her before
+he left for Normandy? I was afraid she wouldn't go, as M. Bradamanti
+expects the lady who came last night; I couldn't see her, but this
+time I'll try to unmask her. But who can this lady of M. Bradamanti's
+be? A lady or a common woman? I'd like to know, for I am as curious as
+a magpie. It is not my fault--I'm made so. It is my character. Ah,
+hold! an idea, a famous one too--to find out her name! I'll try it.
+But who comes there? Ah! it is my prince of lodgers. Hail, Mr.
+Rudolph," said Mrs. Pipelet, putting herself in the attitude of
+carrying arms, the back of her left hand to her wig.
+
+It was Rudolph, as yet ignorant of the death of M. d'Harville. "Good-day,
+Madame Pipelet," said he on entering. "Is Mile. Rigolette at home?
+I wish to speak to her."
+
+"The poor little puss is always at home at her work! Does she ever
+take a holiday?"
+
+"And how is Morel's wife? Does she cheer up any?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Rudolph, many thanks to you, or to the protector of whom you
+are the agent, she and her children are so happy now! They are like
+fish _in_ water; they have fire, air, good beds, good food, a
+nurse to take care of them, without reckoning little Rigolette, who
+working like a little beaver, without appearing to, keeps them under
+her eye? and, besides, a negro doctor has been to see them. Mr.
+Rudolph, I said to myself, 'Ah! but this is the coalheaver doctor,
+this black man; he can feel their pulse without soiling his hands!'
+But never mind, color is skin deep; he seems to be a first-rate hand,
+all the same. He ordered a potion for Madame Morel, which relieved her
+at once."
+
+"Poor woman, she must be very sad."
+
+"Oh! yes, Mr. Rudolph, what else? her husband mad, and then her Louise
+in prison. Louise is her heart's grief; for an honest family it is
+terrible; and when I think that just now Mother Seraphin came here to
+say such things about her. If I had not a gudgeon to make her swallow,
+old Seraphin would not have got off so easy, but for a quarter of an
+hour I gave her fair words. Didn't she have the brass to come and ask
+me if I knew of any young body to take the place of Louise, at that
+beggar of a notary's? Ain't he close and miserly? Just imagine, they
+want an orphan, if she can be found. Do you know why, Mr. Rudolph?
+Because she would never want to go out. But that is not it--trash, a
+lie! The truth is, that they want to get hold of a girl who, having no
+one to advise her, could be ground out of her wages at their pleasure.
+Isn't it true?"
+
+"Yes, yes," answered Rudolph, in a thoughtful manner.
+
+Learning that Mrs. Seraphin sought an orphan to take the place of
+Louise, Rudolph foresaw in this circumstance a means, perhaps certain
+of obtaining the punishment of the notary. While Mrs. Pipelet was
+speaking, he arranged in his mind the part a tool of his might play,
+as a principal instrument in the just punishment which he wished to
+inflict on the executioner of Louise Morel.
+
+"I was sure you would think as I did," said Madame Pipelet; "yes, I
+repeat it, and I would sooner die than send any one to them. Am I not
+right, Mr. Rudolph?"
+
+"Mrs. Pipelet, will you render me a great service?"
+
+"Lord o' mercy! Mr. Rudolph, do you wish me to throw myself across the
+fire, curl my wig with boiling oil? or would you prefer I should bite
+some one? Speak, I am wholly yours! I and my heart are your slaves,
+except--"
+
+"Make yourself easy, Mrs. Pipelet; this is not what I mean. I want a
+place for a young orphan. She is a stranger; she has never been at
+Paris, and I wish to send her to M. Ferrand's."
+
+"You suffocate me! How? In his barrack? to that Old miser's?"
+
+"It is nevertheless a situation. If the girl should not like it, she
+can leave; but, at least, she will for the time earn her living, and I
+shall be easy on her account."
+
+"Marry! Mr. Rudolph, it's your affair: you are warned. If,
+notwithstanding, you find the place good, you are the master; and,
+besides, I must be just--speaking of the notary--if there's something
+against, there's also something for him. He is as miserly as a dog,
+hard as an ass, bigoted as a sacristan, it is true; but he is as
+honest as one can be. He gives small wages, but he pays like a man.
+The food is bad. In fine, it is a house where one must work like a
+horse, but where there is no risk of a young girl's reputation. Louise
+was an exception."
+
+"Madame Pipelet, I am going to confide a secret to your honor."
+
+"On the faith of Anastasia Pipelet, whose maiden name was Galimard, as
+true as there is a holiness in heaven, and Alfred wears only green
+coats, I shall be as dumb as a fish."
+
+"You must not say a word to Mr. Pipelet."
+
+"I swear it on the head of my old darling! If the motive is honest."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Pipelet!"
+
+"It is between ourselves, my prince of lodgers. Go on."
+
+"The girl of whom I have spoken has committed a fault."
+
+"I twig! If I had not at fifteen married Alfred, I should have perhaps
+committed fifty-hundreds of faults! I, that you see--I was a regular
+saltpeter mine unchained! Happily, Pipelet extinguished me in his
+virtue; without that I should have committed follies. If your girl has
+only committed one fault, there is yet some hope."
+
+"I think so also. The girl was a servant in Germany, at one of my
+relatives'; the son of this relative has been the accomplice of the
+fault: you comprehend?"
+
+"Whew! I comprehend-as if I had committed the _faux pas_ myself."
+
+"The mother drove away the servant; but the young man was mad enough
+to leave his paternal home, and bring this poor girl to Paris."
+
+"Oh, these young folks--"
+
+"After this came reflections--all the wiser as the money they had was
+all gone. My young relative called upon me; I consented to give him
+enough to return to his mother, but on condition that he should leave
+this girl here, and I would endeavor to place her."
+
+"I could not have done better for my own son, if Pipelet had been
+pleased to grant me one."
+
+"I am enchanted with your approbation; only as the young girl has no
+recommendations, and is a stranger, it is very difficult to find a
+place. If you would tell Mrs. Seraphin that one of your relations in
+Germany had addressed and recommended this young girl to you, and the
+notary would take her in his service, I should be doubly pleased.
+Cecily--that is her name--having been only led astray, would be made
+correct, certainly, in a house so strict as that of the notary. It is
+for this reason I wish to see her enter the service of M. Ferrand. I
+need not tell you that, presented by you--a person so respectable--"
+
+"Oh! Mr. Rudolph--"
+
+"So estimable--"
+
+"Oh, my prince of lodgers-"
+
+"She will be certainly accepted by Madame Seraphin; while, presented
+by me--"
+
+"Understood! It is as if I presented a young man. Oh, well! done! it
+suits me. Stick old Seraphin! So much the better! I have a bone to
+pick with her. I will answer for the affair, Mr. Rudolph! I'll make
+her see stars at noon. I'll tell her I had a cousin, ever so long ago,
+settle in Germany, one of the Galimards--my family name; that I have
+just received the news that she is defunct, her husband also, and that
+their daughter, now an orphan, will be on my hands immediately."
+
+"Very well. You will take Cecily yourself to M. Ferrand, without
+saying anything more to Mrs. Seraphin. As it is twenty years since you
+have seen your cousin, you will have nothing to answer, except that
+since her departure for Germany you have received no news from her."
+
+"Ah, now! but if the young woman only jabbers German?"
+
+"She speaks French perfectly; I will give her her lesson; all you have
+to do is to recommend her strongly to Mrs. Seraphin; or, rather, I
+think, no--for she would suspect, perhaps, that you wished to force
+her. You know it suffices often merely to ask for a thing to have it
+refused."
+
+"To whom do you tell this? That's the way I always served cajolers. If
+they had asked nothing, I do not say--"
+
+"That always happens. You must say, then, that Cecily is an orphan and
+a stranger, very young and very handsome; that she is going to be a
+heavy charge for you; that you feel but slight affection for her, as
+you had quarreled with your cousin, and that you are not much obliged
+for such a present as she has made you."
+
+"Oh, my! how cunning you are. But be easy--we two'll fix the pair. I
+say, Mr. Rudolph, how we understand each other. When I think that if
+you had been of my age in the time when I was a train of powder--_ma
+foi_, I don't know--and you?"
+
+"Hush! if Mr. Pipelet--"
+
+"Oh, yes! poor dear man! You don't know a new infamy of Cabrion's? But
+I will tell you directly. As to your young girl, be easy; I bet that
+I'll lead old Seraphin to ask me to place my relation with them."
+
+"If you succeed, my dear Mrs. Pipelet, there is a hundred francs for
+you. I am not rich, but--"
+
+"Do you mock at me, Mr. Rudolph? Do you think I do this from
+interested feelings? It is pure friendship--a hundred francs!"
+
+"But remember that if I had this girl for a long time under my charge
+it would cost me more than that at the end of some months."
+
+"It is only to oblige you that I shall take the hundred francs, Mr.
+Rudolph; but it was a famous ticket in the lottery for us when you
+came to this house. I can cry from the roof, you are the prince of
+lodgers. Holloa! a hack! It is doubtless the little lady for M.
+Bradamanti. She came yesterday; I could not see her. I am going to
+trifle with her, to make her show her face; without counting that I
+have invented a way to find out her name. You'll see me work; it will
+amuse you."
+
+"No, no, Mrs. Pipelet, the name and face of this lady are of no
+importance to me," said Rudolph, retreating to the back part of the
+lodge.
+
+"Madame!" cried Anastasia, rushing out before the lady who entered,
+"where are you going, madame?"
+
+"To M. Bradamanti's," said the female, visibly annoyed at thus being
+stopped in the passage.
+
+"He is not at home."
+
+"It is impossible; I have an appointment with him."
+
+"He is not at home."
+
+"You are mistaken."
+
+"I am not mistaken at all," trying all the time to catch a glimpse of
+her face. "M. Bradamanti has gone out, certainly gone out--very
+certainly gone out--that is to say, except for a lady."
+
+"Well! it is I! you annoy me; let me pass."
+
+"Your name, madame? I shall soon know if it is the person M.
+Bradamanti told me to pass in. If you have not that name, you must
+step over my body before you shall enter."
+
+"He told you my name?" cried the lady, with as much surprise as
+inquietude.
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"What imprudence!" murmured the lady; then, after a moment's pause,
+she added impatiently, in a low voice, as if she feared to be
+overheard, "Well! I am Lady d'Orbigny!"
+
+At this name Rudolph started. It was the stepmother of Madame
+d'Harville. Instead of remaining in the shade he advanced; and, by the
+light of the day and the lamp, he easily recognized her, from the
+description Clemence had more than once given him.
+
+"Lady d'Orbigny!" repeated Mrs. Pipelet, "that's the name; you can go
+up, madame."
+
+The step-mother of Clemence passed rapidly before the lodge.
+
+"Look at that!" cried the portress, in a triumphant manner; "gammoned
+the citizen! know her name--she is called D'Orbigny; my means were not
+bad, Mr. Rudolph? But what is the matter? You are quite pensive!"
+
+"This lady has been here before?" asked Rudolph.
+
+"Yes, last night; as soon as she was gone, M. Bradamanti went out,
+probably to take his place in the diligence for to-day; for on his
+return, last night, he begged me to go with his trunk to the office,
+as he could not depend upon that little devil Tortillard."
+
+"And where is M. Bradamanti going to? do you know?"
+
+"To Normandy--to Alencon."
+
+Rudolph remembered that the estate of Aubiers, where M. d'Orbigny
+resided, was situated in Normandy. There could be no doubt the quack
+was going to see the father of Clemence for no good purpose.
+
+"It is the departure of M. Bradamanti that will finely provoke old
+Seraphin!" said Madame Pipelet. "She is like a mad wolf after M.
+Cesar, who avoids her as much as he can; for he told me to conceal
+from her that he was going to leave to-night; thus, when she returns,
+she will find nobody at home! I'll profit by this to speak of your
+young woman. Apropos, how is she called--Ciec?"
+
+"Cecely."
+
+"It is the same as if you said Cecile with an _i_ at the end. All
+the same; I must put a piece of paper in my snuff-box to remember this
+name--Cici--Casi--Cecily, good, I have it."
+
+"Now I go to see Mlle. Rigolette," said Rudolph; and, singularly
+preoccupied with the visit of Madame d'Orbigny to Polidori, he
+ascended to the fourth story.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+RIGOLETTE'S FIRST GRIEF.
+
+
+Rigolette's chamber shone with coquettish nicety; a heavy silver
+watch, placed on the chimney, marked four o'clock; the very cold
+weather having passed, the economical workwoman had not put any fire
+in her stove. Hardly could one see from the window any part of the
+sky, the rough, irregular mass of roofs, garrets, and high chimneys,
+on the other side of the street, forming the horizon.
+
+Suddenly a ray of the sun, astray as it were, glancing between two
+high roofs, came to light up, for some moments, with its purple tints,
+the windows of the room.
+
+Rigolette was working, seated near the casement, sewing, with her feet
+on a stool, placed before her. Thus, as a noble amuses himself
+sometimes, through caprice, in concealing the walls of a cottage by
+the most splendid draperies, for a moment the setting sun illuminated
+the little apartment with a thousand sparkling fires, cast its golden
+rays on the gray and green chintz curtains, made the highly-polished
+furniture sparkle, the waxed floor to glisten like brass, and
+surrounded with gilded wire the bird-cage.
+
+But, alas! notwithstanding the provoking joyousness of this ray of the
+sun, its two canaries flew about with an unquiet air, and, contrary to
+custom, did not sing.
+
+It was because, contrary to custom, also, Rigolette did not sing. None
+of the three warbled without the others. Almost always the fresh and
+matinal song of one awoke the song of the others, who, more lazy, did
+not leave their nests at so early an hour. Then it was a challenge, a
+contest of clear, sonorous, brilliant, silvery notes, in which the
+birds did not always have the advantage.
+
+Rigolette sung no more, because, for the first time in her life, she
+experienced a _sorrow_.
+
+Until then, the sight of the misery of the Morels had often afflicted
+her, but such scenes are too familiar to the poorer classes to make
+any durable impression.
+
+After having each day assisted these unfortunates as much as was in
+her power, sincerely wept with them, and for them, the girl felt
+affected, yet satisfied; affected with their misfortunes, and
+satisfied with her conduct toward them. But this was no _sorrow_.
+
+Soon the natural gayety of her character resumed its empire. And
+besides, without egotism, but from comparison, she found herself so
+happy in her little chamber, on leaving the horrible den of the
+Morels, that her ephemeral sadness was soon dissipated.
+
+Before we inform the reader of the cause of the first grief of
+Rigolette, we wish to assure him completely as to the virtue of this
+young girl. We regret to use the word virtue--a grave, pompous, and
+solemn word, which always carries along with it ideas of a grievous
+sacrifice, of a painful contest with the passions, austere meditations
+on the end of things here below. Such was not the virtue of Rigolette.
+She had neither struggled nor meditated. She had worked, laughed, and
+sung.
+
+It depended on a question of time. She had no leisure to be in love.
+
+Before all--gay, industrious, managing--order, work, gayety, had,
+unknown to her, defended, sustained, and saved her. Perhaps this
+morality will be found light, easy, and joyous; but what matters the
+cause, provided the effect subsists? What matters the direction of the
+roots, if the flower blooms brilliant and perfumed. But let us descend
+from our Utopian sphere, and return to the cause of Rigolette's first
+grief.
+
+Except Germain, a good and serious young man, the neighbors of the
+grisette had taken, at first, her familiarity and neighborly kindness
+for very significant encouragement; but these gentlemen had been
+obliged to acknowledge, with as much surprise as vexation, that they
+found in Rigolette an amiable and gay companion for their Sunday
+recreations, a kind neighbor, and "nice little girl," but nothing
+more. Their surprise and their vexation quailed by degrees to the
+frank and charming disposition of the grisette, and her neighbors were
+proud on Sunday to have on their arm a pretty girl who did them honor
+(Rigolette cared little for appearances), and who only cost the
+partaking of their modest pleasures, which her presence and
+sprightliness enhanced. Besides, the dear girl was so easily
+contented; in the days of penury she dined so well and so gayly on a
+piece of hot cake, nipped with all the force of her little white
+teeth; after which she amused herself so much with a walk on the
+boulevards or streets.
+
+Francois Germain alone founded no foolish hopes on the girl's
+familiarity. Either from penetration or delicacy of mind, he saw at
+once all that could be agreeable in the mode of living offered by
+Rigolette. That which, of course, would happen, happened. He became
+desperately in love with his neighbor, without daring to speak of this
+love. Far from imitating his predecessors, who, soon convinced of the
+vanity of their pursuits, had consoled themselves elsewhere, Germain
+had deliciously enjoyed his intimacy with the girl, passing with her
+not only Sundays, but every evening that he was not occupied.
+
+During these long hours, Rigolette had conducted herself, as always,
+lively and gay; Germain tender, attentive, serious, and often a little
+melancholy. This sadness was the only inconvenience; for his manners,
+naturally uncommon, could not be compared to the ridiculous
+pretensions of Girandeau, the traveling clerk, nor to the noisy
+eccentricities of Cabrion; M. Girandeau by his inexhaustible
+loquacity, and the painter by his hilarity not less so, had the
+advantage of Germain, whose gentle gravity awed a little his lively
+neighbor.
+
+Rigolette had not, until now, any marked preference for either of her
+three lovers; but as she was not wanting in judgment, she found that
+Germain alone united all the qualities necessary to make a reasonable
+woman happy.
+
+These antecedents disposed of, we will say why Rigolette was sad, and
+why neither she nor her birds sung.
+
+Her round, blooming face was rather pale; her large black eyes,
+ordinarily bright and sparkling, were cast down and dull; her
+expression showed unaccustomed fatigue. She had worked more than half
+the night. From time to time she regarded sadly a letter placed open
+upon a table beside her; this letter was from Germain, and contained
+what follows:
+
+"Conciergerie Prison.
+
+"MADEMOISELLE.--The place whence I write will tell you the extent of
+my misfortune. I am incarcerated as a thief--I am criminal in the eyes
+of the world, though I dare to write to you. It would be frightful for
+me to think that you also looked upon me as a degraded and guilty
+being. I implore you, do not condemn me before having read this
+letter. If you cast me off, this last blow will overwhelm me quite.
+
+"For some time past I have not lived in the Rue du Temple, but I knew
+through poor Louise that the Morel family, in whom we were so much
+interested, were more and more wretched. Alas I my pity for these poor
+people has ruined me! I do not repent it, but my fate is a cruel one.
+Yesterday, I remained quite late at M. Ferrand's, occupied with some
+pressing writings. In the room where I worked was a desk; each day my
+patron locked up in it the work I had done. This night he appeared
+restless and agitated; he said to me, 'Do not go until these accounts
+are finished; you will place them in the desk, of which I leave you
+the key,' and he went out.
+
+"My work being finished I opened the drawer to put it away;
+mechanically my eyes fell upon an open letter, where I read the name
+of Jerome Morel, the artisan. I confess, seeing that it referred to
+that unfortunate man, I had the indiscretion to read this letter; I
+thus learned that the artisan was to be arrested the next morning for
+a note of thirteen hundred francs, at the suit of M. Ferrand, who,
+under an assumed name, would cause him to be imprisoned. This notice
+was from the agent of my patron. I knew the situation of the family
+well enough to foresee what a horrible blow this would be for them. I
+was as sorry as I was indignant. Unfortunately, I saw in the same
+drawer an open box containing some gold; there was about two thousand
+francs. At this moment I heard Louise on the staircase; without
+reflecting on the gravity of my action, profiting by the occasion
+which chance offered, I took thirteen hundred francs; I went into the
+passage and placed the money in the hand of Louise, telling her, 'Your
+father is to be arrested to-morrow at daylight for thirteen hundred
+francs: here they are; save him, but do not say you had this money
+from me. M. Ferrand is a bad man.'
+
+"You see, mademoiselle, my intention was good though my conduct was
+culpable; I conceal nothing. Now hear my excuse.
+
+"During a long time, by economy, I have saved and placed at a banker's
+the small sum of fifteen hundred francs. About a week ago he notified
+me that the term of his obligation toward me being arrived, he held my
+funds subject to my order, if I did not wish them to remain with him.
+
+"I thus possessed more than I took from the notary. I could the next
+day replace it; but the cashier of the bank did not reach his office
+before twelve o'clock, and at daybreak they were to arrest poor Morel.
+It was necessary to place him in a situation to pay, otherwise, even
+if I were to go and take him from prison, the arrest might have
+already killed his wife; besides, the very considerable expenses
+attending this would have been at the cost of the artisan. You
+comprehend that all these misfortunes would not have happened, if I
+could have returned the thirteen hundred francs before M. Ferrand
+discovered their loss.
+
+"I left the house, no longer under the impression of indignation and
+pity which had made me act in this manner. I reflected on all the
+dangers of my position; a thousand fears assailed me. I knew the
+severity of the notary; he could, after my departure, return and go to
+the bureau, find out the _theft_; for in his eyes, to the eyes of
+everybody, it is a theft.
+
+"These ideas quite upset me; although it was late, I ran to the
+banker's to beg him to return my money instantly. I should have
+explained this extraordinary demand; afterward I would have returned
+to M. Ferrand, and replaced the money I had taken.
+
+"The banker, by a fatal chance, had been for two days at Belleville,
+his country house. I awaited the daylight with increasing agony; at
+length I arrived at Belleville. Everything seemed leagued against me;
+the banker had left for Paris; I flew back, I got my money; I went to
+M. Ferrand's--all was discovered.
+
+"But this is only a part of my misfortunes; now the notary accuses me
+of having stolen fifteen thousand francs in notes, which were, he
+said, in the drawer with the two thousand francs in gold. It is a
+false accusation, an infamous lie. I avow myself guilty of the first
+charge; but by all that is sacred, I swear to you, mademoiselle, that
+I am innocent of the second. I have seen no bills in the drawer; there
+was only the gold, as I said before.
+
+"Such is the truth, mademoiselle; I am under the charge of an
+overwhelming accusation, and yet I affirm that you ought to think me
+incapable of telling a falsehood. But who will believe me? Alas! as M.
+Ferrand told me, he who has stolen a small sum can easily steal a
+large one, and his words deserve no confidence.
+
+"I have always found you so good and devoted to the unfortunate,
+mademoiselle, I know you are so faithful and frank, that your heart
+will guide you, I hope, in the appreciation of the truth--I ask
+nothing more. Give faith to my words, and you will find me as much to
+be pitied as blamed; for, I repeat, my intention was good;
+circumstances impossible to foresee have ruined me.
+
+"Oh, Mile. Rigolette, I am very unhappy. If you knew what kind of
+people I am destined to live among until the day of my trial!
+Yesterday they took me to a place which is called the station-house of
+the Prefecture of Police. I cannot tell you what I experienced when,
+after having mounted a gloomy staircase, I arrived before a door with
+an iron wicket, which they opened, and soon closed upon me. I was so
+much troubled, that at first I could distinguish nothing. A hot,
+disagreeable air struck me in the face; I heard a great noise of
+voices mingled with sinister laughs, accents of rage and low songs; I
+held myself immovable near the door, looking at the stone flaggings,
+daring neither to advance nor raise my eyes, believing that every one
+was looking at me. They did not trouble themselves about me; one
+prisoner more or less is of no consequence to them; at length I raised
+my head. What horrible figures! how many clothed in rags! how many
+ragged clothes soiled with mud! All the externals of vice and misery.
+There were about forty or fifty, seated, standing, or lying on benches
+fastened to the walls; vagabonds, robbers, assassins, in fine, all who
+had been arrested that night or day.
+
+"When they perceived me, I found a sad consolation in seeing that they
+did not recognize me as one of their fellows. Some of them looked at
+me with an insolent and jeering air; then they began to talk among
+themselves, in a low tone, and in a hideous language I did not
+comprehend. At the end of a short time, the most audacious of them
+came and struck me on the shoulder, and asked me for some money to pay
+my footing.
+
+"I gave them some money, in hopes to purchase repose; it was not
+enough; they required more; I refused. Then several of them surrounded
+me, loading me with threats and insults; they were about to throw
+themselves upon me, when happily, attracted by the noise, a keeper
+entered. I complained to him; he made them give up the money I had
+given them, and told me that, if I wished, I could, for a small
+amount, be put alone in a cell. I accepted with gratitude, and left
+these bandits in the midst of their threats for the future. The keeper
+placed me in a cell, where I passed the rest of the night. It is hence
+that I write to you this morning, Mlle. Rigolette. Immediately after
+my examination, I shall be conducted to another prison, which is
+called La Force, where I fear I shall meet many of my lock-up
+companions. The keeper, interested by my grief and tears, has promised
+me to send you this letter, although it is strictly forbidden. I
+expect, Mlle. Rigolette, a last service of our old friendship, if now
+you should not blush at this friendship.
+
+"If you are willing to grant my demand, here it is.
+
+"You will receive with this a small key, and a line for the porter of
+the house where I reside, Boulevard Saint Denis, No. 11. I inform him
+that you can dispose of all that belongs to me, and that he must obey
+your orders. He will show you my room. You will have the kindness to
+open my secretary with the key I send you; you will find a large
+envelope covering many papers, which I wish you to take care of; one
+of them was destined for you, as you will see by the address; others
+have been written concerning you, in our happy days. Do not be angry--
+you never else would have known it.
+
+"I beg you also to take the small sum of money which is in the
+secretary, also a sachet of satin, inclosing a little cravat of orange
+silk, that you wore on our last Sunday walk, and gave me the day I
+left the Rue du Temple. I wish that, with the exception of some linen,
+which you will send to La Force, you would sell the furniture and
+effects I possess: acquitted or condemned, I shall not be the less
+ruined and obliged to leave Paris. Where shall I go? What are my
+resources? Heaven only knows!
+
+"Madame Bouvard, as saleswoman in the Temple, who has already sold and
+bought for me, will doubtless arrange all this: she's an honest woman;
+this arrangement will spare you much embarrassment, for I know how
+precious your time is.
+
+"I have paid my rent in advance; I beg you to give a small gratuity to
+the porter. Pardon me, mademoiselle, for imposing on you with these
+details, but you are the only person in the world to whom I dare and
+can address myself.
+
+"I might have asked this service from one of the clerks at M.
+Ferrand's, but I feared his discretion respecting sundry papers: many
+of them concerning you, as I have already told you; others have
+reference to some sad events of my life.
+
+"Oh! believe me, Mlle. Rigolette, if you grant it, this last proof of
+your former affection will be my sole consolation in the great trouble
+which crushes me; in spite of myself, I hope you will not refuse me.
+
+"I ask, also, permission to write you sometimes--it will be so
+soothing, so precious, to be able to pour out, to disclose to a
+benevolent heart, the sorrows which overwhelm me.
+
+"Alas! I am alone in the world; no one feels any interest in me. This
+isolated condition was always painful--judge now what it is!
+
+"And yet I am honest; and I have the consciousness of never having
+injured any one; of having always, even at the peril of my life, shown
+my aversion for evil, as you will see by the papers, which I beg you
+to keep and read. But when I say this, who will believe me? M. Ferrand
+is respected by everybody; his reputation is well established; he will
+crush me; I resign myself, in advance, to my fate.
+
+"In brief, Mlle. Rigolette, if you believe me, you will not have, I
+hope, any contempt for me; you will pity me, and you will sometimes
+think of a sincere friend; then, if I cause you much--much pity,
+perhaps you will push your generosity so far as to come, some day-_a
+Sunday_ (alas! what recollections does not the word awaken)--to
+brave the reception-room of my prison.
+
+"But, no, no! to see you in such a place--I never can dare. Yet you
+are so kind, that--
+
+"I am obliged to stop, and send you this, with the key and the note to
+the porter, which I shall write in haste, as the keeper has come to
+tell me I am to be taken before the judge. Adieu, adieu, Mlle.
+Rigolette.
+
+"Do not cast me off. I have no hope but in you--in you alone.
+
+  "FRANCOIS GERMAIN.
+
+"P.S.--If you answer address your letter to the prison of La Force."
+
+The reader can now comprehend the cause of the first grief of La
+Rigolette. Her excellent heart was profoundly affected at a calamity
+of which she had not had until then any suspicion. She believed
+implicitly in the entire veracity of the story of Germain. Not very
+severe, she even found that her old neighbor enormously exaggerated
+his fault. To save an unfortunate father, he had taken the money,
+which he knew he could return. This action, in the eyes of the
+grisette, was only generous.
+
+By one of those inconsistencies natural to women, and above all, to
+those of her class, this girl, who until then had felt for Germain, as
+for her other neighbors, a joyous and cordial friendship, now
+acknowledged a decided preference.
+
+As soon as she knew he was unfortunate, unjustly accused, and a
+prisoner, she thought no more of his rivals.
+
+With Rigolette it was not yet love; it was a lively, sincere
+affection, filled with commiseration and resolute devotion: a very new
+sentiment for her, from the bitterness which was joined to it. Such
+was her mental situation when Rudolph entered her room, after having
+discreetly knocked at the door.
+
+"Good-day, my neighbor," said Rudolph; "I hope I do not disturb you?"
+
+"No, neighbor; I am, on the contrary, very glad to see you, for I have
+much sorrow!"
+
+"Why do I find you pale? you seem to have been weeping!"
+
+"I should think I have wept! There is reason for it. Poor Germain!
+Here, read;" and Rigolette handed to Rudolph the letter. "If this is
+not enough to break one's heart! You told me you were interested in
+him. Now is the time to show it," added she, while Rudolph read
+attentively. "Is this villain, Ferrand, thirsting for the blood of
+everybody? First it was Louise, now it is Germain. Oh! I am not cruel;
+but if some misfortune should happen to this notary I should be
+content! To accuse such an honest young man of having stolen one
+thousand three hundred francs! Germain! truth and honesty itself, and
+then so regular, so mild, so sad--is he not to be pitied, among all
+these scoundrels-in prison! Oh! M. Rudolph, from to-day I begin to see
+that all is not _couleur de rose_ in life."
+
+"And what do you mean to do my neighbor?"
+
+"Do? why, everything he asks, and as soon as possible. I should have
+already been off, but for this work, which I must finish and take to
+the Rue Saint Honore as I go to Germain's room to get the papers he
+speaks of. I have passed a part of the night in working, so as to gain
+some hours in advance. I am going to have so many things to do,
+besides my work, that I must get in readiness. In the first place,
+Madame Morel wishes me to see Louise in her prison? It is, perhaps,
+very difficult, but I will try. Unfortunately, I do not know who to
+address myself to."
+
+"I have thought of that."
+
+"You, my neighbor?"
+
+"Here is a magistrate's order."
+
+"What happiness! Can you not get me one also for the prison of this
+unfortunate Germain? it will give him so much pleasure."
+
+"I will give you, also, the means to see Germain."
+
+"Oh, thank you, M. Rudolph."
+
+"You are not afraid, then, to go to the prison?"
+
+"Very certain my heart will beat the first time. But never mind. When
+Germain was happy, did I not always find him ready to anticipate all
+my wishes? To take me to the theater, or a walk? to read to me at
+night? to assist me in arranging my flowers? to wax my floor? Well!
+now he is in trouble, it is my turn; a poor little mouse like me can't
+do much, I know; but all I can do I will do--he can count on it; he
+shall see whether I am a good friend! M. Rudolph, there is one thing
+that vexes me; it is his suspicion--he believes me capable of
+despising him! I ask you why? This old miser of a notary accuses him
+of theft; but what is that to me? I know it is not true. The letter of
+Germain proves as clear as day that he is innocent, whom I should
+never have thought guilty. Only to see him, to know him, shows he is
+incapable of a wrong action. One must be as wicked as M. Ferrand to
+maintain such false assertions."
+
+"Bravo, neighbor, I like your indignation!"
+
+"Oh! stop--I wish I was a man, to go see this notary, and say to him:
+'Oh! you maintain that Germain has robbed you; well, look here, take
+that, you old liar, he won't steal this from you.' And I'd beat him to
+a mummy."
+
+"You'd have very expeditious justice," said Rudolph, smiling at the
+animation of Rigolette.
+
+"It is so revolting; and, as Germain says in his letter, everybody
+will take the master's part against him, because his master is rich,
+and thought much of, while Germain is a poor young man without
+protection; unless you come to his assistance, M. Rudolph, who know so
+many benevolent persons. Can nothing be done?"
+
+"He must wait for his trial. Once acquitted, as I think he will be,
+numerous proofs of interest will be shown him, I assure you. But
+listen, my neighbor. I know from experience that I can count on your
+discretion."
+
+"Oh, yes, M. Rudolph. I have never been a babbler."
+
+"Well, no one must know, even Germain himself must be ignorant that he
+has friends who are watching over him, for he has friends."
+
+"Really."
+
+"Very powerful and very devoted."
+
+"It would give him so much courage to know it."
+
+"Doubtless; but perhaps he could not keep the secret. Then, M.
+Ferrand, alarmed, would be on his guard, his suspicions aroused; and
+as he is very cunning, he would make it difficult to get at him; which
+would be lamentable, for not only must the innocence of Germain be
+proved, but his calumniator unmasked."
+
+"I understand you, M. Rudolph."
+
+"Just so with Louise; I bring you this permission to see her, so that
+you can tell her not to speak to any one of what she had revealed to
+me. She will know what this means."
+
+"That is sufficient, M. Rudolph."
+
+"In a word, Louise must be careful not to complain in her prison of
+the conduct of her master; it is very important. But she must conceal
+nothing from the lawyer who will be sent by me to prepare for her
+defense; recommend all this to her."
+
+"Be quite easy, neighbor; I will forget nothing. I have a good memory.
+But I speak of kindness, when it is you who are good and generous! If
+any one's in trouble, you are there at once!"
+
+"I have told you, neighbor, I am only a poor clerk. When, in roving
+about, I find good people who deserve protection, I inform a
+benevolent person who has all confidence in me, and they are
+assisted."
+
+"Where do you lodge, now that you have given up your room to the
+Morels?"
+
+"I lodge--in furnished lodgings."
+
+"Oh, how I detest that. To be where everybody else has been--it is as
+if everybody had been in your own room."
+
+"I am only there at night, and then--"
+
+"I conceive--it is less disagreeable. My home, M. Rudolph, rendered me
+so happy; I had arranged a life so tranquil, that I should not have
+believed it possible to have a sorrow. Yet you see! No, I cannot tell
+you what a blow the misfortunes of Germain have caused me. I have seen
+the Morels and others--much to be pitied, it is true; but misery is
+misery. Among poor folks they expect it; it does not surprise them,
+and they help one another as they can. But to see a poor young man,
+honest, and good, who has been your friend for a long time, accused of
+theft, and imprisoned pell-mell with rogues and cut-throats! Oh, M.
+Rudolph! it is true I have no strength against this; it is a
+misfortune I have never thought of; it upsets me."
+
+Rigolette's large eyes filled with tears.
+
+"Courage, courage! your gayety will return when your friend is
+acquitted."
+
+"Oh, he must be acquitted! They will only have to read to the judges
+the letter which he has written me--that will be enough, will it not,
+M. Rudolph?"
+
+"In reality, this simple and touching letter has all the marks of
+truth. You must let me take a copy; it will be useful in his defense."
+
+"Certainly, M. Rudolph. If I did not write like a real cat, in spite
+of the lessons Germain gave me, I should propose to copy it for you;
+but my writing is so coarse, so crooked, and besides, there are so
+many--so many faults."
+
+"I only ask you to lend me this letter until tomorrow."
+
+"There it is, neighbor; but you will take good care of it? I have
+burned all the _billets doux_ which M. Cabrion and M. Girandeau
+wrote me at the commencement of our acquaintance, with bleeding hearts
+and doves on the top of the paper; but this poor letter of Germain, I
+will take good care of; it and others also, if he writes them. For, in
+truth M. Rudolph, it is a proof in my favor that he asks these little
+services."
+
+"Without doubt it proves that you are the best little friend that one
+can have. But I reflect--instead of going by and by alone to M.
+Germain's, shall I accompany you?"
+
+"With pleasure, neighbor. Night approaches, and I prefer not to be
+alone in the streets after dark, especially as I have to go near the
+Palais Royal. But to go so far will be tiresome and fatiguing to you,
+perhaps?"
+
+"Not at all; we will take a hack."
+
+"Really! Oh, how it would amuse me to go in a carriage, if I had not
+so much sorrow. And I must have sorrow, for this is the first day
+since I lived here that I have not sung. My birds are all astonished.
+Poor little things! they do not know what it means; two or three times
+Papa Cretu has sung a little to entice me. I wished to amuse him; but
+after a moment I began to weep; Ramonette then tried, but I could
+answer no more."
+
+[Illustration: MENACED IN PRISON]
+
+"What singular names you have given your birds--Papa Cretu, Ramonette?"
+
+"M. Rudolph, my birds are the joy of my solitude; they are my best
+friends. I have given them the names of good people who were the joy
+of my childhood, my best friends. Without reckoning, to finish the
+resemblance, that Papa Cretu and Ramonette were as gay and tuneful as
+the birds of heaven. My adopted parents were thus called. They are
+ridiculous names for birds, I know; but it only concerns me. Now, it
+was on this very subject that I saw Germain had a good heart."
+
+"He had, eh?"
+
+"Certainly; M. Girandeau and M. Cabrion--M. Cabrion, above all--were
+forever making jokes on the names of my birds. 'To call a canary Papa
+Cretu, did you ever?' M. Cabrion never finished, and then he would
+laugh--such laughs. 'If it were a cock,' said he, 'very well, you I
+might call it Cretu (combed). It is the same with the other one;
+Ramonette sounds too much like Ramoneur (chimney sweep).' At length he
+made me so angry that I would not go out with him for two Sundays,
+just to teach him; and I told him, very seriously, that if he
+recommenced his jokes, which were unpleasant to me, we should never go
+out together again."
+
+"What a courageous resolution!"
+
+"It cost me a good deal, M. Rudolph--I looked so eagerly for my Sunday
+excursions. I had a sorrowful heart, I tell you, to remain home all
+alone of a fine day; but never mind, I preferred rather to sacrifice
+my Sunday than to continue to hear M. Cabrion make fun of what I
+respected. Except for this, and the ideas attached to it, I would have
+preferred to give other names to my birds. There is, above all, one
+name I should have loved to adoration--Humming-Bird. Well, I cannot do
+it, because I never shall call my birds otherwise than Cretu and
+Ramonette; it would seem to me that I sacrificed them, that I forgot
+my kind adopted parents-wouldn't it, M. Rudolph?"
+
+"You are right-a thousand times right. Germain did not make fun of
+these names?"
+
+"On the contrary; only the first time it appeared droll to him, as to
+every one else--it is very simple; but when I explained my reasons, as
+I had explained them to M. Cabrion, the tears came into his eyes. From
+that day I said, `M. Germain has a kind heart; he has nothing against
+him but his sadness.' And do you see, M. Rudolph, that he has brought
+me misfortune to reproach him for his sadness. Then I did not
+comprehend how one could be sad. Now I comprehend it but too well. But
+now my work is finished, will you give me my shawl, neighbor It is not
+cold enough for a cloak, is it?"
+
+"We shall go in a carriage, and I will bring you back."
+
+"It is true, we shall go and return quicker; it will be so much time
+gained."
+
+"But, on reflection, how are you going to manage? Your work will
+suffer from your visit to the prisons?"
+
+"Oh no, no! I have laid my plans. In the first place, I have my
+Sundays; I will go and see Louise and Germain on these days--it will
+serve me for a walk and recreation; then, in the week, I shall go to
+the prison once or twice; each time will cost me three good hours a
+day. Well, to make up for this, I will work one hour more each day,
+and I will go to bed at twelve o'clock instead of eleven; that will
+give me a clear gain of seven or eight hours each week, which I can
+use in going to see Louise and Germain. You see, I am richer than I
+appear to be," added Rigolette, smiling.
+
+"And do you not fear this will fatigue you?"
+
+"Bah! I can do it--one can do anything; and, besides, it will not last
+forever."
+
+"Here is your shawl, neighbor. I shall not be so indiscreet as to
+bring my lips too close to this charming neck."
+
+"Oh, neighbor! take care, you prick me."
+
+"Come, the pin is crooked."
+
+"Well, take another--there, on the pincushion. Oh, I forget! Will you
+do me a favor, neighbor?"
+
+"Command, neighbor."
+
+"Make me a good pen, very coarse, so that I can, on my return, write
+to poor Germain that his commissions are executed. He shall have my
+letter to-morrow morning early."
+
+"And where are your pens?"
+
+"There, on the table; the knife is in the drawer. Stop, I am going to
+light my candle, for it grows quite dark."
+
+"I shall want it to mend the pen."
+
+"And, besides, I can't see to tie my bonnet."
+
+Rigolette took a match, and lit an end of candle, which was in a very
+shining candlestick.
+
+"Dear me! wax candle, neighbor--what luxury!"
+
+"The little I burn costs me a trifle more than a tallow candle, but it
+is so much neater."
+
+"Not much dearer?"
+
+"Oh, no. I buy these ends of candles by the pound, and a half-pound
+serves me a month."
+
+"But," said Rudolph, mending the pen carefully, while the grisette
+tied her bonnet before the glass, "I see no preparations for your
+dinner."
+
+"I haven't a shadow of hunger. I took a cup of milk this morning; I
+will take another to-night, with a little bread! I shall have enough."
+
+"Will you not come and eat dinner with me when we come away from
+Germain's?"
+
+"I thank you, neighbor; I have my heart too full; another time with
+pleasure. What do you say to the evening of the day that poor Germain
+comes out of prison? I invite myself, and afterward we will go to the
+play. Is it agreed?"
+
+"It is, neighbor; I assure you that I shall not forget this
+engagement. But to-day you refuse me?"
+
+"Yes, M. Rudolph; I should be too stupid to-day; besides, it would
+take up too much time. Only think--it is now, if ever, that I must not
+be lazy."
+
+"Come, I will give up this pleasure for to-day."
+
+"Here, take my bundle, neighbor; go before, I will shut the door."
+
+"Here is an excellent pen--now, your bundle."
+
+"Take care you don't tumble it--it is poult de soie--it shows the
+folds--hold it in your hand--that way--lightly. Well, pass on, I will
+light you."
+
+Rudolph descended, preceded by Rigolette. As they passed the lodge
+they saw Pipelet, who, with his arms hanging down, advanced toward
+them from the bottom of the alley. In one hand he held the sign, which
+announced to the public that he would "deal in friendship" with
+Cabrion; and in the other, the portrait of the infernal painter.
+
+The despair of Alfred was so overwhelming that his chin rested on his
+breast, and nothing could be seen but the top of his hat. On seeing
+him approach, with his head down, toward Rudolph and Rigolette, one
+would have said it was a goat or a negro butt preparing for combat.
+Anastasia appeared on the threshold, and cried at the sight of her
+husband. "Well, old darling! here you are, hey? What did the
+commissary say to you? Alfred, pay attention; now you are going to
+poke yourself against my prince of lodgers. Who has stolen your eyes?
+Pardon, M. Rudolph; that beggar Cabrion stupefies him more and more--
+he certainly will make him turn to a jackass, my poor love! Alfred,
+answer!"
+
+At this voice, so dear to his heart, Pipelet raised his head; his
+features were imprinted with a melancholy bitterness.
+
+"What did the commissary say to you?" repeated Anastasia.
+
+"Anastasia, we must collect the little that we possess, clasp our
+friends in our arms, pack our trunks, and expatriate ourselves from
+France-from my 'belle France!'-for, sure now of impunity, the monster
+is capable of pursuing me everywhere."
+
+"Then, the commissary!"
+
+"The commissary!" cried Pipelet, with savage indignation; "the
+commissary laughed in my face."
+
+"Your face! an aged man, who has so respectable an air, that you'd
+look as stupid as a goose if one did not know your virtues."
+
+"Well, notwithstanding that, when I had respectfully deposed before
+him my heap of complaints and griefs against this infernal Cabrion,
+this magistrate, after looking at and laughing--yes, laughing--I say,
+laughing indecently--over the sign and portrait which I produced as
+justificatory of my complaint, replied, 'My good man, this Cabrion is
+a funny fellow--a jester--pay no attention to his jokes. I advise you
+now, in a friendly manner, to laugh at them, for really there is
+cause.' 'To laugh!' cried I; 'to laugh! but grief is devouring me--my
+existence is imbittered by those scoundrels--they pester me--they will
+cause me to lose my reason--I demand that they be locked up--exiled,
+at least from my street.' At these words the commissary smiled, and
+obligingly showed me the door. I understood this gesture of the
+magistrate, and here I am."
+
+"Magistrate of nothing at all!" cried Mrs. Pipelet.
+
+"All is finished! Anastasia, all is finished! No more hope! There is
+no longer any justice in France! I am atrociously sacrificed!" and by
+way of peroration, Pipelet threw, with all his strength, the portrait
+and sign to the end of the alley. Rudolph and Rigolette had, in the
+obscurity, slightly smiled at Pipelet's despair. After having
+addressed some words of consolation to Alfred, whom Anastasia was
+calming in the best way she could, the "prince of lodgers" left the
+house of the Rue du Temple with Rigolette, and got into a hackney
+coach to go to the residence of Francois Germain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE WILL.
+
+
+Francois Germain lived on the Boulevard Saint Denis, No. 11. During
+the long ride from the Rue du Temple to the Rue Saint Honore, where
+the woman lived who supplied Rigolette with work, Rudolph was able to
+appreciate still more the girl's excellent feelings. Like all
+characters instinctively good and devoted, she was not conscious of
+the delicacy and generosity of her conduct, which seemed to her quite
+natural.
+
+Nothing would have been easier for Rudolph than to have made a liberal
+provision for Rigolette, as well for her present wants as the future,
+so that she could have gone charitably to console Louise and Germain,
+without counting the time she lost in these visits from her work, her
+only resource; but the prince feared to weaken the merit of the
+grisette's devotion in rendering it too easy; quite decided to
+recompense the rare and charming qualities which he had discovered in
+her, he wished to follow her to the end of this new and interesting
+trial. At the end of an hour the carriage, on its return from her Rue
+Saint Honore, stopped on the Boulevard Saint Denis, No. 11, before a
+house of modest appearance.
+
+Rudolph assisted Rigolette to alight; she entered the porter's lodge
+and communicated to him the intentions of Germain, without forgetting
+the promised gratuity. From his amenity of disposition, the clerk was
+everywhere loved. The _confrere_ of Pipelet was much concerned to
+learn that the house should lose so honest and quiet a lodger: such
+were his expressions. The grisette, furnished with a light, rejoined
+her companion; the porter was to follow, after a little while, to
+receive instructions. The chamber of Germain was on the fourth story.
+On arriving at the door, Rigolette said to Rudolph, giving him the
+key, "Here, neighbor, open--my hand trembles too much. You will laugh
+at me; but, in thinking that poor Germain will never return here, it
+seems to me I am about to enter a chamber of the dead."
+
+"Come, be reasonable now, neighbor--have no such ideas!"
+
+"I was wrong, but it was stronger than I;" and she wiped away a tear.
+
+Without being as much moved as his companion, Rudolph nevertheless
+experienced a painful impression on entering the modest apartment. He
+knew that the unfortunate young man must have passed many sad hours
+in this solitude. Rigolette placed the light on a table. Nothing could be
+more plain than the furniture of this sleeping-room, composed of a
+bed, a chest of drawers, a secretary of black walnut, four straw-bottomed
+chairs, and a table; white cotton curtains covered the windows and the
+bed recess; the only ornaments on the mantelpiece were a decanter
+and a glass. From the appearance of the bed, which was made, it
+could be seen that Germain had thrown himself upon it without taking
+off his clothes the night preceding his arrest.
+
+"Poor fellow," said Rigolette, sadly, examining, with interest, the
+interior of the chamber: "it is easy to see that lie no longer has me
+for a neighbor. It is in order, but not neat; there is dust
+everywhere, the curtains are smoked, the windows are dirty, the floor
+is not washed. Oh! what a difference! Rue du Temple was not handsome,
+but it was more gay, because everything shone with neatness, like my
+own room."
+
+"It was because you were there, to give your advice."
+
+"But see, now," cried Rigolette, showing the bed, "he did not go to
+rest the other night, so much was he disturbed. Look here! his
+handkerchief, which he has left, has been steeped in tears. That is
+plain to be seen;" and she took it, adding, "Germain has kept a little
+orange silk cravat of mine, which I gave him when we were happy; I am
+sure he will not be angry."
+
+"On the contrary, he will be very happy at this proof of your
+affection."
+
+"Now let us think of serious matters; I will make a package of linen,
+which I shall find in the drawers, to take to him in prison; Mother
+Bouvard, whom I shall send here to-morrow, will manage the rest.
+First, however, I'll open the secretary and take out the papers and
+money which M. Germain begged me keep for him."
+
+"But while I think of it," said Rudolph, "Louise Morel gave me,
+yesterday, one thousand three hundred francs in gold, which Germain
+had given her to pay the debt of her father, which I had already done;
+I have this money; it belongs to Germain, since he has paid back the
+notary; I will give it to you; you can add it to the rest."
+
+"As you please, M. Rudolph; yet I would rather not have so large a sum
+with me at home, there are so many robbers nowadays. Papers are very
+well--there is nothing to fear; but money is dangerous."
+
+"Perhaps you are right, neighbor; shall I take charge of this sum? If
+Germain has need of anything, you must let me know at once. I will
+leave you my address, and I will send you what he wants."
+
+"I should not have dared to ask this service from you; it will be much
+better, neighbor. I will give you also the money I shall receive from
+the sale of his effects. Let us see the papers," said the girl,
+opening the secretary and several drawers. "Ah, it is probably this.
+Here is a large envelope. Oh, my gracious! look here, M. Rudolph, how
+sad it is what's written on this." And she read, in a faltering tone:
+
+"In case I should die a violent death, or otherwise, I beg the person
+who should open this secretary to carry these papers to Mlle.
+Rigolette, seamstress, Rue du Temple, No. 17."
+
+"Can I break the seal, M. Rudolph?"
+
+"Doubtless; does he not say that among these papers there is one
+particularly addressed to you?"
+
+The girl broke the seal. Several papers were inclosed; one of them,
+bearing the superscription, "_To Mademoiselle Rigolette_"
+contained these words: "Mademoiselle--When you read this letter, I
+shall no longer exist. If, as I fear, I die a violent death, in
+falling a victim to willful murder, some information, under the title
+of _Notes of my Life_ may give a clew to my assassins."
+
+"Ah! M. Rudolph," said Rigolette, "I am no longer astonished that he
+was so sad. Poor Germain! always pursued by such ideas!"
+
+"Yes; he must have been much afflicted. But his worst days are over,
+believe me."
+
+"I hope so, M. Rudolph. But, however, to be in prison, accused of
+robbery!"
+
+"Be comforted. Once his innocence recognized, instead of falling into
+an isolated state, he will find friends. You, in the first place; then
+a beloved mother, from whom he has been separated since his
+childhood."
+
+"His mother! He has still a mother?"
+
+"Yes. She thinks him lost to her. Judge of her joy when she will see
+him again. Do not speak to him of his mother. I confide this secret to
+you, because you interest yourself so generously in his favor."
+
+"I thank you, M. Rudolph; you may be assured I will keep your secret,"
+and Rigolette continued the reading of the letter:
+
+"If you will, mademoiselle, look over these notes, you will see that I
+have been all my life very unhappy, except during the time I passed
+with you. What I should never have dared to tell you, you will find
+written here, entitled '_My sole days of happiness._'
+
+"Almost every evening, on leaving you, I thus poured out the consoling
+thoughts that your affection inspired, and which alone tempered the
+bitterness of my life. What was friendship when with you, became love
+when absent from you. I have concealed this until this moment, when I
+shall be no more for you than perhaps a sad souvenir. My destiny was
+so unhappy, that I should never have spoken to you of this sentiment;
+although sincere and profound, it would only have made you unhappy.
+
+"One wish alone remains to be fulfilled, and I hope that you will
+accomplish it. I have seen with what admirable courage you work, and
+how much method and economy was necessary for you to live on the small
+amount you earn so industriously. Often, without telling, you, I have
+trembled in thinking that a malady, caused, perhaps, by excess of
+labor, might reduce you to a situation so frightful that I could not
+even think of it without alarm. It is very grateful to me to think
+that I can at least spare you the horrors, and, perhaps, in a great
+degree, the miseries, which you, in the thoughtlessness of youth, do
+not foresee, happily."
+
+"What does he mean, M. Rudolph?" said Rigolette, astonished.
+
+"Continue, we shall see."
+
+"I know on how little you can live, and what a resource the smallest
+sum would be to you in a time of difficulty. I am very poor, but, by
+economy, I have set aside one thousand five hundred francs, deposited
+at a banker's; it is all that I possess. By my will, which you will
+find here, I bequeath it to you; accept it from a friend, a good
+brother, who is no more."
+
+"Oh! M. Rudolph," said Rigolette, bursting into tears, and giving the
+letter to the prince, "this gives me too much pain. Good Germain, thus
+to think of me! Oh! what a heart! what an excellent heart!"
+
+"Worthy and good young man!" replied Rudolph, with emotion. "But calm
+yourself, my child. Germain is not dead; this anticipation will only
+serve as a witness of his love for you."
+
+"It is true. To be beloved by so good a young man is very flattering,
+is it not, M. Rudolph?"
+
+"And some day, perhaps, you will participate in this love?"
+
+"M. Rudolph, it is very trying; poor Germain is so much to be pitied!
+I'll put myself in his place--if at the moment when I thought myself
+abandoned, despised by all the world, a person, a good friend, came to
+me, still more kind than I could hope for--I should be so happy!"
+After a moment's pause, Rigolette resumed with a sigh, "On the other
+hand, we are both so poor, that perhaps it would not be reasonable.
+Look here, M. Rudolph, I do not wish to think of that; perhaps I am
+mistaken; but I will do all I can for Germain, as long as he remains
+in prison. Once free, it will always be time enough to see if it is
+love or friendship I feel for him; then if it is love, neighbor, it
+will be love. But it grows late, M. Rudolph; will you collect these
+papers, while I make up a bundle of linen? Oh! I forgot the sachet
+inclosing the little orange cravat, which I have given him. It is in
+this drawer, without a doubt. Oh! see how pretty it is, all
+embroidered! Poor Germain has guarded it like a relic! I well remember
+the last time I wore it, and when I gave it to him. He was so happy,
+so happy."
+
+At this moment some one knocked at the door.
+
+"Who is there?" demanded Rudolph.
+
+"I want to speak to Madame Mathieu," answered a hoarse and husky
+voice, with an accent which denoted the speaker to be one of the
+lowest order. Madame Mathieu was a diamond broker living in this
+house, who employed Morel.
+
+This voice, singularly accented, awakened some vague recollections in
+the mind of Rudolph. Wishing to enlighten them, he went and opened the
+door. He found himself face to face with a fellow whom he recognized
+at once, so fully and plainly was the stamp of crime marked on his
+youthful and besotted face.
+
+Either this wretch had forgotten the features of Rudolph, whom he had
+seen only once, or the change of dress prevented him from recognizing
+him, for he manifested no astonishment at his appearance.
+
+"What do you want?" said Rudolph.
+
+"Here is a letter for Madame Mathieu. I must give it into her own
+hands," answered the man.
+
+"She does not live here: inquire opposite," said Rudolph.
+
+"Thank you, friend; they told me it was the door to the left; I am
+mistaken."
+
+Rudolph did not know the name of the diamond broker; he had therefore
+no motive to interest himself about the woman to whom the rogue came
+as a messenger. Nevertheless, although he was ignorant of the crimes
+of this bandit, his face had such a guilty look of perversity, that he
+remained on the threshold of the door, curious to see the person to
+whom he brought this letter. Hardly had the man knocked at the
+opposite door when it was opened, and the broker, a large woman of
+about fifty years of age, appeared, holding a candle in her hand.
+
+"Madame Mathieu?" said the messenger.
+
+"That's my name."
+
+"Here is a letter; I want an answer." He made a step in advance, as if
+to enter the room; but she made a motion for him not to advance,
+unsealed the letter, read it, and answered, with a satisfied air:
+
+"You will say it is all right, my lad; I will bring what they wish; I
+will go to-morrow at the same time as before. Give my compliments to
+this lady."
+
+"Yes, ma'am. Don't forget the messenger."
+
+"Go ask those who sent you; they are richer than I am;" and she closed
+the door.
+
+Rudolph re-entered Germain's room, seeing the messenger rapidly
+descending the staircase.
+
+The latter met on the boulevard a man of a villainous and ferocious
+appearance, who waited for him before a shop. Although several persons
+might have heard him, but not understood him, it is true, he appeared
+so much pleased that he could not help saying to his companion, "Come,
+toss off your tipple, Nick! the old girl's toddled into the trap;
+she'll meet Screech Owl; Mother Martial will give us a lift in
+squeezing the sparklers out of her, and then we will carry the cold
+meat away in your boat."
+
+"Look sharp, then; I must be at Asnieres early; I am afraid my brother
+Martial will suspect something." And the rogues, after having held
+this conversation, quite unintelligible to those who might have heard
+it, directed their steps toward the Rue Saint Denis.
+
+A few moments after, Rigolette and Rudolph left the abode of Germain,
+got into the carriage, and drove to the Rue du Temple. When the
+carriage stopped, and the portress came to open the door, Rudolph saw
+by the street light a friend of his, who was waiting for him at the
+passage door.
+
+That presence announced some great event, or, at least, something
+unexpected, for he alone knew where to find the prince.
+
+"What is the matter, Murphy?" said Rudolph, quickly, while Rigolette
+collected the papers in the vehicle.
+
+"A great misfortune, your highness!"
+
+"Speak, for Heaven's sake!"
+
+"The Marquis d'Harville."
+
+"You alarm me!"
+
+"He gave a breakfast this morning to several of his friends.
+Everything was going off well; he, above all, had never been more gay,
+when a fatal imprudence--"
+
+"Go on, go on!"
+
+"In playing with a pistol which he did not know was loaded--"
+
+"He has wounded himself?"
+
+"Worse!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Something very terrible!"
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"He is dead!"
+
+"D'Harville! oh, this is frightful!" cried Rudolph in such a heart-rending
+tone, that Rigolette, who had just descended from the carriage
+with her bundles, said: "What is the matter, M. Rudolph?"
+
+"Some very bad news that I have just told my friend, mademoiselle,"
+said Murphy to the girl, for the prince was so much affected that he
+could not answer.
+
+"Is it some really great misfortune?" asked Rigolette, tremblingly.
+
+"A very great misfortune," answered the other.
+
+"Oh! this is frightful!" said Rudolph, after a silence of some
+moments; then, recollecting Rigolette, he said to her: "Pardon me, my
+child, if I do not go with you to your room; to-morrow I will send you
+my address, and a permit to go to Germain's prison. I will soon see
+you again."
+
+"Oh! M. Rudolph, I assure you I am very sorry for the bad news you
+have heard. I thank you for having accompanied me to-night. Good-bye."
+
+The prince and Murphy got into the coach, which took them to the Rue
+Plumet.
+
+Immediately Rudolph wrote to Clemence the following note:
+
+"Madame,--I learn this moment the unexpected blow which has
+overwhelmed you, and takes from me one of my best friends: I shall not
+endeavor to describe my sorrow.
+
+"Yet I must inform you of things foreign to this cruel event. I have
+just learned that your step-mother, who has been for some days in
+Paris, without doubt, leaves to-night for Normandy, taking with her
+Polidori, alias Bradamanti. This will tell you of the dangers your
+father is threatened with, and allow me to give you some advice. After
+the frightful affair of this morning, your desire to leave Paris will
+be nothing extraordinary. So set off at once for Aubiers, to arrive
+there, if not before, at least as soon as your step-mother. Be
+assured, madame, far or near, I shall still watch over you; the
+abominable projects of your step-mother shall be baffled.
+
+"Adieu, madame: I write this in haste. My heart is almost broken when
+I think of last evening, when I left him more tranquil, more happy,
+than he had been for a long time.
+
+"Believe me, madame, in my profound and sincere devotion.
+
+  "RUDOLPH."
+
+Following this advice, Madame d'Harville, three hours after the
+receipt of this letter, was on the road to Normandy. A post-chaise,
+which left Rudolph's, followed the same route.
+
+Unfortunately, from the trouble into which she was plunged by this
+complication of events, and the precipitation of her departure,
+Clemence forgot to acquaint the prince that she had met Fleur-de-Marie
+at Saint Lazare.
+
+It will be remembered, perhaps, that the evening previous, La Chouette
+had threatened Mrs. Seraphin to disclose the fact of the existence of
+La Goualeuse, affirming that she knew (and she told the truth) where
+the young girl then was. It will also be remembered that after this
+conversation Jacques Ferrand, fearing the revelation of his criminal
+misdeeds, had determined that it was for his interest to put the
+Goualeuse out of the way, whose existence, once known, might
+compromise him dangerously. He had, therefore, caused to be written to
+Bradamanti a note to summon him to come and hatch some new schemes, of
+which Fleur-de-Marie was to be the victim.
+
+Bradamanti, occupied with the interests, not less pressing, of the
+stepmother of Madame d'Harville, who had her own reasons for
+conducting the quack to the bedside of M. d'Orbigny, doubtless finding
+it more to his advantage to serve his old friend, paid no attention to
+the invitation of the notary, and set out for Normandy without seeing
+Mrs. Seraphin.
+
+The storm gathered around Jacques Ferrand; in the course of the day La
+Chouette had returned to reiterate her threats, and, to prove that
+they were not in vain, she had declared to the notary that the little
+girl, formerly abandoned by Mrs. Seraphin, was then a prisoner at
+Saint Lazare, under the name of La Goualeuse, and that if they did not
+give her ten thousand francs in three days, this girl should receive
+some papers which would inform her that she had been in her infancy
+confided to the care of Jacques Ferrand.
+
+According to his custom, the notary denied all this with audacity, and
+drove off La Chouette as an impudent liar, although he was convinced
+and frightened by her threats.
+
+In the course of the day the notary found means to assure himself that
+the Goualeuse was a prisoner at Saint Lazare, and so noted for her
+good conduct that her release was expected soon.
+
+Furnished with this information, Jacques Ferrand, having arranged a
+most diabolical scheme, felt that, to execute it, the assistance of
+Bradamanti was more and more indispensable; hence the frequent
+attempts of Mrs. Seraphin to see the quack. Learning the same evening
+of his departure, forced to act by the imminence of his fears and
+danger, he remembered the Martial family--those river pirates
+established near Asnieres Bridge, to whom Bradamanti had proposed to
+send Louise Morel, in order to get rid of her with impunity.
+
+Having absolutely need of an accomplice, to carry out his wicked
+designs against Fleur-de-Marie, the notary took every precaution, in
+the case a new crime should be committed; and the next morning, after
+the departure of Bradamanti for Normandy, Mrs. Seraphin went in great
+haste to see the Martials.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE RIVER PIRATE'S HAUNT.
+
+
+The following scenes took place on the evening of the day that Mrs.
+Seraphin had, according to the notary's orders, paid a visit to the
+Martials, established on the point of a small island, not far from
+Asnieres Bridge. Martial, the father, who had died on the scaffold
+like his own father, left a widow, four sons, and two daughters. The
+second of these sons was already condemned to the galleys for life. Of
+this numerous family there remained on the island the mother; three
+sons; the eldest (the lover of La Louve) twenty-five, the other
+twenty, the youngest twelve; two daughters; one eighteen, the second
+nine. Instances of such families, wherein is perpetuated a kind of
+frightful inheritance in crime, are but too frequent. This must be so,
+because society thinks only of punishing, never of preventing the
+evil.
+
+The gloomy picture which follows, of the river pirates, has for its
+object to show what, in a family, inheritance of evil may be, when
+society either legally or kindly does not interfere to preserve the
+unfortunate, orphaned by the law, from the terrible consequences of
+the judgment visited on their father.
+
+The head of the Martial family, who had first settled on this little
+island, was a dredger (_ravageur_).
+
+They, as well as the _debardeurs_, and the _dechireurs_ of
+boats, remain almost the entire day plunged in the water to their
+waists, to follow their trade.
+
+The _debardeurs_ bring to land floating wood.
+
+The _dechireurs_ knock to pieces the rafts which bring down the
+wood. Quite as aquatic as the preceding operatives, the labor of
+_ravageurs_ has a very different object. Advancing in the water
+as far as they can, they are enabled, by means of long rakes, to drag
+the mud and sand from the bed of the river; then, collecting this in
+large wooden bowls, they wash it, and thus collect a large quantity of
+pieces of metal of all kinds, iron, copper, lead, and brass.
+
+Often they find in the sand fragments of gold or silver jewels,
+carried into the Seine either by the gutters or from the masses of
+snow and ice collected in the streets in winter and thrown into the
+river. We do not know by virtue of what tradition, or by what usage,
+these industrious people, generally honest, peaceable, and laborious,
+are so formidably named.
+
+Old Martial first inhabitant of the island, being a ravageur (a sorry
+exception), the people living on the banks of the river called it the
+ravageur's island.
+
+The dwelling of the river pirates is situated at the south end of the
+isle. On a sign which hangs near the door can be seen:
+
+        "THE DREDGERS' ARMS.
+  Good Wines, Fish fried and boiled.
+           Boats to Let."
+
+It will be seen that to his other business the head of this family
+had added an innkeeper's, fisherman's, and the keeping of boats for
+hire. The widow of this executed criminal continued to keep the house.
+Vagabonds, wandering quacks, and itinerate keepers of animals came to
+pass Sundays and other non-working days in parties of pleasure.
+
+Martial (the lover of La Louve), the eldest son of the family, least
+vicious of all, fished by stealth, and, for pay, took the part of the
+weak against the strong.
+
+One of his brothers, Nicholas, the future accomplice of Barbillon in
+the murder of the diamond broker, was apparently a ravageur, but in
+fact a pirate along the Seine and its banks. Finally, Francois, the
+youngest son, took care of those who wished to go boating.
+
+We will just mention Ambrose Martial, imprisoned for life for robbery
+and attempt at murder The eldest girl, nicknamed Calabash, assisted
+her mother in the kitchen and to wait upon the guests; her sister,
+Amandine, aged nine years, gave what aid she could to them.
+
+On this night, thick, heavy clouds, driven by the winds, obscured the
+sky; hardly one star could be seen through the increasing gloom. The
+house, with its irregular gables, was completely buried in darkness,
+except the two windows of the ground-floor, from which streamed a red
+light, reflected like long trains of fire on the troubled waters near
+the landing-place, close to the house. The chains of the boats moored
+there mingled their rattling with the mournful sighing of the wind
+through the poplars, and the heavy splashing of the water on the
+shore. Part of the family was assembled in the kitchen, a large, low
+room; opposite the door were two windows, between which was a large
+dresser; on the left, a high fireplace; to the right, a staircase
+which led to the upper story; at the side of this, the entrance to a
+large room, furnished with several tables, destined for the guests.
+The light of a lamp, joined to the flames of the hearth, shone on a
+number of saucepans and other cooking utensils of copper, hung on the
+walls, or arranged on shelves with crockery; a large table stood in
+the center of the kitchen. The widow was seated by the fire with her
+three children. Tall and thin, she appeared to be about forty-five
+years of age. She was dressed in black; a mourning kerchief, tied
+round her head with two loose ear-like ends, concealed her hair, and
+almost covered her pale, wrinkled forehead; her nose was long,
+straight, and pointed; her cheek-bones prominent, and cheeks fallen
+in; her yellow, sickly-looking skin was deeply marked with the small-pox;
+the corner of her mouth, always drawn down, rendered still harsher
+the expression of her cold, stern, sinister-looking face, immovable
+as a mask of marble. Her dull blue eyes were surmounted by gray
+brows. She and her two daughters were occupied with some sewing.
+
+The eldest resembled her mother--the same cold, calm, wicked look; her
+thin nose, mouth, and pale look. Only her earthy skin, yellow as
+saffron, gave her the nickname of Calabash. She wore no mourning: her
+dress was brown; her black lace cap displayed two bands of uncommonly
+light flaxen hair, with no luster. Francois, the youngest son, was
+seated on a bench, mending a small mesh, a very destructive sort of
+fishing net, strictly forbidden use on the Seine. Notwithstanding his
+sunburned appearance, his skin was fair; red hair covered his head;
+his features were well turned, his lips thick, his forehead
+projecting, his eyes sharp and piercing: there was no resemblance to
+his mother or eldest sister. His expression was timid yet cunning;
+from time to time, through, the kind of mane which fell over his face,
+he cast obliquely on his mother a look of defiance, or exchanged with
+his sister Amandine a glance of intelligence and affection.
+
+She, seated by his side, was occupied, not in marking, but in
+unmarking some linen stolen the night previous. She was nine years
+old, and resembled her brother as much as her sister did her mother;
+her features, without being any more regular, were less coarse than
+Francois'; although covered with freckles, her skin was of dazzling
+purity; her lips were thick, but vermilion, her hair red, but fine,
+silky, and brilliant; her eyes small, but soft and expressive.
+
+When they exchanged looks, Amandine pointed to the door; at the sign
+Francois answered by a sigh; then, calling the attention of his sister
+by a rapid gesture, he counted distinctly from the end of his netting
+needle ten threads of the net. This meant, in their own symbolical
+language, that their brother Martial would not return before ten
+o'clock.
+
+On seeing these two quiet, wicked-looking women, and these two poor,
+restless, mute, trembling little children, one could easily guess they
+were two tormentors and two victims.
+
+Calabash, noticing that Amandine had ceased a moment from work, said
+to her, in a harsh voice, "Will you soon have done with that chemise?"
+
+The child held down her head without replying; with fingers and
+scissors, she quickly finished picking out the marks made with red
+cotton, and then handing the work to her mother, said timidly, "Mamma,
+I have finished it."
+
+Without making any reply, the widow threw her another piece of linen.
+The child could not catch it in time, and let it fall. Her sister gave
+her, with her iron hand, a heavy slap on the arm, saying "Little
+stupid fool!"
+
+Amandine resumed her work, after having exchanged a hasty glance with
+her brother; a tear glistened in her eye. The same silence continued
+to reign in the kitchen. The wind howled without, and the sign creaked
+mournfully on its hinges. The only sounds within were the bubbling of
+a saucepan placed before the fire. The two children observed with
+secret alarm that their mother did not speak. Although she was
+habitually very quiet, this complete taciturnity and certain
+contractions of her lips announced that the widow was in that which
+they called her white rage, that is to say, a prey to some
+concentrated irritation.
+
+The fire appeared to be going out from want of fuel.
+
+"Francois, a stick of wood!" said Calabash.
+
+The young net-mender looked behind the chimney-piece, and answered,
+"There is no more there."
+
+"Go to the wood-pile," said Calabash.
+
+Francois murmured some unintelligible words, but did not stir.
+
+"Francois, did you hear me?" said Calabash sharply.
+
+The widow placed on her knees a napkin, which she was unmarking, and
+looked at her son.
+
+He had his head down, but he thought he felt the terrible look of his
+mother was upon him. Fearing to meet her formidable face, the child
+remained immovable.
+
+"Are you deaf, Francois'?" resumed Calabash, much irritated.
+
+"Mother--do you see?"
+
+Amandine, without being perceived, nudged her brother to urge him
+tacitly to obey Calabash. Francois did not stir. The eldest sister
+looked at her mother, as if to demand the punishment of the offender.
+The widow understood her, and pointed with her long, bony finger to a
+long willow switch, which stood in the corner.
+
+Calabash leaned back, took this instrument of correction, and handed
+it to her mother.
+
+Francois had perfectly understood the gesture of his mother; he jumped
+up quickly, and with one bound was out of his mother's reach.
+
+"You want mother to beat you soundly?" cried Calabash, "do you?"
+
+The widow, holding the rod in her hand, bit her lips, and looked at
+Francois with a steady eye, without pronouncing a word. From the
+slight agitation of Amandine's hands, who sat with her head down,
+while her neck was suffused with red, it could be seen that the child,
+although accustomed to such scenes, was alarmed at the fate which
+awaited her brother, who, having taken refuge in a corner of the
+kitchen, seemed alarmed and yet rebellious.
+
+"Take care of yourself; mother will get up, and then it will be too
+late," said Calabash.
+
+"All the same to me," answered Francois, turning pale. "I prefer to be
+beaten, as I was yesterday, to going to the wood-pile at night."
+
+"And why?" said Calabash, impatiently.
+
+"I am afraid of the wood-pile!" answered Francois, shuddering in spite
+of himself.
+
+"You are afraid, fool! of what?"
+
+Francois hung his head without answering.
+
+"Will you speak? What are you afraid of?"
+
+"I don't know; but I'm afraid."
+
+"You have been there a hundred times, and even last night?"
+
+"I don't want to go there any more."
+
+"There's mother; she's getting up."
+
+"So much the worse for me," cried the child. "Let her beat me; let her
+kill me; but I will not go to the wood-pile--at night, above all."
+
+"But, once more, I ask you, why not?" said Calabash.
+
+"Well, because there's some one--"
+
+"Some one?"
+
+"Buried there," murmured the trembling boy.
+
+The widow, notwithstanding her impassibility, could not repress a
+slight shudder; her daughter imitated her; one would have said that
+the two had received an electric shock.
+
+"Some one buried in the wood-house!" said Calabash, shrugging her
+shoulders.
+
+"Yes," said Francois, in a voice so low that he could hardly be heard.
+
+"Liar!" cried Calabash.
+
+"I tell you that not long ago, while piling the wood, I saw, in a dark
+corner of the wood-house, a dead man's bone; it stuck out of the
+ground, which was damp round about," replied Francois.
+
+"Do you hear him, mother? Is he not a fool?" said Calabash, making a
+significant sign to the widow. "They are some mutton bones I threw
+there."
+
+"It was not a mutton bone," answered the child; "it was bones buried--
+dead men's bones: a foot which stuck out of the ground. I saw it."
+
+"And you instantly told this to your brother, your good friend
+Martial--did you not?" said Calabash. Francois did not answer.
+
+"Wicked little spy!" cried Calabash, furiously. "Because he is as
+cowardly as a cow, he will get us guillotined, as father was."
+
+"Since you call me a spy," cried Francois, exasperated, "I shall tell
+everything to Martial. I have not told him yet, for I have not seen
+him since; but when he returns to-night, I--"
+
+The child dared not finish, for his mother advanced toward him, calm
+but inexorable. Although she habitually held herself much bent over,
+her size was very large for a woman. Holding the switch in one hand,
+with the other the widow took her son by the arm, and, in spite of the
+alarm, resistance, prayers, and tears of the child, dragging him after
+her, she compelled him to mount the stairs. In a moment was heard the
+sound of heavy blows, mingled with cries and sobs. When this noise
+ceased, a door was shut violently, and the widow descended. She placed
+the whip in its place, seated herself alongside of the fire, and
+resumed her work without saying a word.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+THE PIRATES.
+
+
+After a few moments' silence, the widow said to her daughter, "Go and
+get some wood; we will arrange the woodhouse to-night, on the return
+of Nicholas and Martial."
+
+"Martial! Will you also tell him that?"
+
+"Some wood," repeated the widow, interrupting her daughter.
+
+She, accustomed to this iron will, lighted a lantern and went out. At
+the moment she opened the door it could be seen that the night was
+very dark, and one could hear the whistling of the wind through the
+poplars, the clanging of the chains which held the boats, and the wash
+of the river. These noises were profoundly sad.
+
+During the preceding scene, Amandine, painfully affected at the fate
+of Francois, whom she loved tenderly, had dared neither to raise her
+eyes nor wipe her tears, which fell drop by drop obscuring her sight.
+In her haste to finish the work which was given her, she had wounded
+her hand with the scissors; the blood flowed freely, but the poor
+child thought less of the pain than the punishment which she might
+expect for having stained the linen with her blood. Happily, the
+widow, absorbed in profound thought, perceived nothing. Calabash
+returned bringing a basket filled with wood. At a look from her
+mother, she answered by a nod, intended to say that the dead man's
+foot did appear above the earth.
+
+The widow bit her lip and continued to work, but she appeared to
+handle the needle more quickly. Calabash replenished the fire, and
+resumed her seat alongside of her mother.
+
+"Nicholas does not come," said she. "I hope the old woman who was here
+this morning, in giving him a rendezvous with Bradamanti, has not got
+him into some bad scrape. She had such a queer air; she would not
+explain or tell her name, or where she came from." The widow shrugged
+her shoulders.
+
+"You think there is no danger for Nicholas, mother? After all,
+perhaps, you are right. The old woman said he must be on the Quai de
+Billy at seven in the evening, opposite the dock, where he would find
+a man who wished to speak to him, and who would say 'Bradamanti' for
+password. Really, that does not seem so very dangerous. If Nicholas is
+late, it is, perhaps, because he has found something on the way, as he
+did yesterday--this linen, boned from a washing-boat;" and she showed
+one of the pieces of linen which Amandine was unmarking; then,
+speaking to the child, she said, "What does boning mean?"
+
+"This means to take," answered the child, without raising her eyes.
+
+"It means to steal, little fool; do you hear, to steal?"
+
+"Yes, sister."
+
+"And when one knows how to bone like Nicholas there is always
+something to gain. The linen he picked up yesterday has only cost us
+the trouble of picking out the marks--eh, mother?" said Calabash, with
+a burst of laughter which displayed her decayed teeth, as yellow as
+her skin. The widow did not laugh.
+
+"_Apropos_ of getting things gratis," continued Calabash, "we
+can, perhaps, furnish ourselves from another shop. You know that an
+old man, two or three days since, came to live in the country-house of
+M. Griffion, the physician of the Paris Hospital--the lonely house a
+few steps from the river, opposite the plaster quarry?" The widow
+bowed her head.
+
+"Nicholas said yesterday that now there was, perhaps, a good job to be
+done there. And I know, since this morning, that there is some booty
+there for certain. I must send Amandine to wander around the house;
+they will pay no attention to her; she will pretend to be playing,
+will look well about her, and then come and let us know what she has
+seen. Do you hear what I say?"
+
+"Yes, sister, I will go," answered the trembling child.
+
+"You always say 'I will' but you never do it, you sly puss. The time I
+told you to take the five francs from the counter of the grocer at
+Asnieres, while I kept him busy at the other end of his shop--it was
+very easy; no one suspects a child--why didn't you obey?"
+
+"Sister, my heart failed me: I did not dare."
+
+"The other day you dared to steal a handkerchief from the peddler's
+pack while he was selling at the tavern. Did he find it out, fool?"
+
+"Sister, you forced me--it was for you; and, besides, it was not
+money."
+
+"What of that?"
+
+"To take a handkerchief is not so bad as to take money."
+
+"On my word! Martial teaches you these whims doesn't he?" said
+Calabash, in an ironical manner. "You'll go and tell him everything,
+little spy! Do you think we are afraid that he'll eat us?" Then,
+addressing the widow, Calabash added, "Mother, this will end badly for
+him; he wants to lay down the law here. Nicholas is furious against
+him; so am I. He sets Amandine and Francois against us, against you.
+Can it be borne?"
+
+"No!" said the mother, in a short, harsh voice.
+
+"It is especially since his Louve was Saint-Lazared that he has gone
+on like a madman. Is it our fault that she is in prison? When she is
+once out of prison, let her come here, and I will serve her out--good
+measure--though she is strong."
+
+The widow, after a moment's pause, said to her daughter, "You think
+there is something to be done with the old man who lives in the
+doctor's house?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+"He looks like a beggar."
+
+"That doesn't prevent his being a noble."
+
+"A noble?"
+
+"Yes; or that he should have gold in his purse, although he goes to
+Paris on foot every day, and returns in the same manner, with his
+heavy stick for his carriage."
+
+"How do you know that he has gold?"
+
+"The other day I was at the post-office, to see if there were any
+letters from Toulon."
+
+At these words, which brought to her mind her son at the galleys, the
+widow knit her brows and suppressed a sigh.
+
+Calabash continued: "I awaited my turn, when the old man we speak of
+came in. I twigged him at once by his beard, as white as his hair, and
+his black eyebrows. In spite of his hair, he must be a determined old
+man. He said, 'Have you any letters from Angers for the Count of Saint
+Remy?' 'Yes,' was the answer, 'here is one.' 'It is for me,' said he;
+'here is my passport.' While the postmaster examined it, the old man
+drew out his purse to pay the postage. At one end I saw the gold
+glittering through the meshes, at least forty or fifty louis," cried
+Calabash, her eyes twinkling, "and yet he is dressed like a beggar. He
+is one of those old misers who are stuffed with gold. Come, mother, we
+know his name; it may serve us to get into the crib when Amandine
+finds out if he has any servants."
+
+A violent barking of the dogs interrupted Calabash. "Oh, the dogs
+bark," said she; "they hear a boat. It is either Martial or Nicholas."
+
+After a few moments the door opened, and Nicholas Martial made his
+appearance. His face was ignoble and ferocious; small, thin, pitiful,
+it could hardly be imagined that he followed so dangerous a calling;
+but an indomitable energy supplied the place of the physical strength
+which was wanting. Over his blue slop he wore a great-coat, without
+sleeves, made of goat-skin with long hair. On entering he threw on the
+ground a roll of copper which he had on his shoulder.
+
+"Good-night, and good booty, mother," cried he, in a cracked voice;
+"there are three more rolls in my boat, a bundle of clothes, and a box
+filled with I don't know what, for I have not amused myself by opening
+it. Perhaps I am sold--we shall see."
+
+"And what about the man at the Quai de Billy?" asked Calabash, while
+the widow looked at her son without saying a word.
+
+He, for sole answer, put his hand in his pocket and jingled together a
+number of pieces of silver.
+
+"You took all that from him?" cried Calabash.
+
+"No, he shelled out himself two hundred francs, and he will come down
+with eight hundred more when I shall have--but enough; let us unload
+the boat; we can jaw afterward. Isn't Martial here?"
+
+"No," said the sister.
+
+"So much the better; we will lock up the booty without him; just as
+well he shouldn't know."
+
+"You are afraid of him, coward!" said Calabash, crossly.
+
+"Afraid of him? me!" He shrugged his shoulders. "I am afraid he'll
+sell us, that's all. As to the fear, my sticker has too sharp a
+tongue."
+
+"Oh, when he is not here, you brag; let him but come, that shuts your
+bill."
+
+Nicholas appeared insensible to this reproach, and said, "Come, quick!
+quick! to the boat. Where is Francois, mother? He could help us."
+
+"Mother has shut him upstairs, after having dressed him nicely; he
+goes to bed without supper," said Calabash.
+
+"Good; but let him come and help us unload the boat all the same--eh,
+mother? Calabash, him, and me, in a twist, will have all housed."
+
+The widow pointed upward. Calabash understood, and went to look for
+Francois.
+
+The gloomy visage of Mother Martial had become slightly relaxed since
+the arrival of Nicholas; she liked him better than Calabash, but not
+as well as she did her Toulon son, as she called him; for the maternal
+love of this ferocious creature increased in proportion to the
+criminality of her offspring. This perverse preference sufficiently
+explains the dislike of the widow to her youngest children, who
+displayed no bad tendencies, and her profound hatred for Martial, her
+eldest son, who, without leading a blameless life, might have passed
+for a very honest man if he had been compared to Nicholas, Calabash,
+or his brother, the galley--slave at Toulon.
+
+[Illustration: THE PILLAGE ]
+
+"Where have you been plundering to-night?" asked the widow.
+
+"On returning from the Quai de Billy, I cast a sheep's-eye upon a
+barge fastened to the quay near the Invalides Bridge. It was dark; I
+said, no light in the cabin--the sailors are on shore--I'll go on
+board; if I meet any one, I'll ask for a piece of seizing to mend my
+oar. I went into the cabin--nobody; then I took what I could, some
+clothes, a large box, and, on the deck, four rolls of copper; for I
+returned twice. The barge was loaded with copper and iron. But here
+come Francois and Calabash. Quick, to the boat! Come, be moving--you,
+too, Amandine. You can carry the clothes. A dog learns to carry before
+he is taught hunting."
+
+Left alone, the widow busied herself in preparing the supper for the
+family, placing on the table glasses, bottles, plates, and silver
+forks and spoons. Just as she finished her preparation, her children
+returned heavily laden. The weight of the two rolls, which he carried
+on his shoulders, seemed almost to crush Francois. Amandine was hardly
+visible under the bundle of clothes which she carried on her head.
+Nicholas and Calabash carried between them a deal box, on the top of
+which was placed the fourth roll of copper.
+
+"The box, the box!" cried Calabash, with impatience. "Let us air the
+case!" The copper was thrown on the ground. Nicholas, armed with a
+hatchet, endeavored to get it under the cover, so as to force it up.
+The red flickering light from the earth illuminated this scene of
+pillage; without, the wind howled with renewed violence. Nicholas,
+kneeling before the box, tried to break it, and uttered the most
+horrible oaths on seeing his efforts useless. Her eyes glistening with
+cupidity, her cheeks flushing, Calabash kneeled on the box, and
+assisted Nicholas with all her strength. The widow, separated from the
+group by the table, where she stood at full length, also had her eager
+gaze fixed on the stolen object.
+
+Finally, a thing, alas! too human, the two children, whose good
+natural instincts had so often triumphed over the cursed influence of
+this abominable domestic corruption, forgetting their scruples and
+their fears, gave way to the attractions of a fatal curiosity. Leaning
+against one another, their eyes sparkling, their breathing oppressed,
+Francois and Amandine were not less anxious to know the contents of
+the box than their brother or sister. At length the top was forced
+off.
+
+"Ah!" cried the family, in a joyful tone. And all, from the mother to
+the little girl, crowded around the stolen case. Without doubt,
+consigned by some Paris merchant to some of his country customers, it
+contained a large quantity of articles for women's use.
+
+"Nicholas is not sold!" cried Calabash, unrolling a piece of muslin de
+laine.
+
+"No," answered the pirate, shaking out a package of foulards; "no, I
+have paid my expenses."
+
+"Levantine! that will sell like bread," said the widow, putting her
+hand in the box. "The Bras-Rouge's fence, who lives in the Rue du
+Temple, will buy the stuffs, and Daddy Micou, who keeps furnished
+lodgings in the Quartier Saint Honore, will arrange for the copper."
+
+"Amandine!" whispered Francois to his little sister; "what a pretty
+cravat this would make."
+
+"Yes, and it would make a very fine scarf," answered the child, with
+admiration. "I must say you had some luck, getting on board the
+barge," said Calabash; "look here, famous shawls; three real silk! Do
+look, mother?"
+
+"Burette will give at least five hundred francs for the whole," said
+the widow, after a close examination.
+
+"Then it must be worth at least fifteen hundred francs," said
+Nicholas, "but a receiver is as bad as a thief! Bah! I do not know how
+to cheat. I shall be soft enough this time again to do just as Burette
+wishes, and Micou also; but he is a friend."
+
+"Never mind; the seller of old iron is a robber, just like the rest,
+but these rascally receivers know one has need of them," said
+Calabash, trying on one of the shawls, "and they abuse it."
+
+"There's nothing more," said Nicholas, reaching the bottom of the box.
+
+"Now all must be repacked," said the widow.
+
+"I'll keep this shawl," said Calabash.
+
+"You'll keep it!" cried Nicholas, brutally, "if I give it to you. You
+are always taking--you--Miss Free-and-easy."
+
+"Oh! you then refrain from taking?"
+
+"I? I nail at the risk of my skin. It's not you who'd have been jugged
+if they'd caught me on the barge."
+
+"Well, there's your shawl! I don't care about it," said Calabash,
+sharply throwing it back into the case.
+
+"It is not on account of the shawl that I speak; I am not mean enough
+to value a shawl; for one, more or less, old Burette will not change
+her price; she buys in a lump," said Nicholas. "But instead of saying
+that you'd take the shawl you might ask if I would give it you. Come,
+keep it--keep it, I tell you; or if you won't, I'll pitch it into the
+fire to make the pot boil."
+
+These words soothed Calabash's bad temper, and she took the shawl.
+Nicholas was, doubtless, in a generous mood; for, tearing off with his
+teeth two of the handsomest handkerchiefs, he threw them to Francois
+and Amandine.
+
+"That's for you, my kids, to put you in the notion to go on the lay.
+Appetite comes with eating. Now go to bed; I want to talk with mother.
+Your supper shall be brought upstairs." The children clapped their
+hands, and waved triumphantly the stolen handkerchiefs which had just
+been given them.
+
+"Well, you little blockheads!" said Calabash, "will you listen any
+more to Martial? Has he ever given you such handsome things?" Francois
+and Amandine looked at each other; then hung their heads without
+replying.
+
+"Speak!" said Calabash, harshly; "has he ever made you presents?"
+
+"Well, no; he never has," said Francois, looking at his red
+handkerchief with delight. Amandine said, in a very low tone, "Brother
+Martial does not make us presents, because he hasn't the means."
+
+"If he would steal, he'd have them," said Nicholas; "eh, Francois?"
+
+"Yes, brother," answered Francois. Then he added: "Oh, the beautiful
+silk! What a fine cravat for Sunday?"
+
+"What a fine head-dress!" said Amandine.
+
+"Not to say how wild the children of the lime-burner will be when they
+see you pass," said Calabash, looking at the children to see if they
+comprehended the bearing of the words. The abominable creature thus
+called vanity to her assistance to stifle the last scruples of
+conscience. "The beggars will burst with envy: while you, with your
+fine silk, will look like little gentry."
+
+"That's true," answered Francois. "I am much more content with my fine
+cravat, since the little lime-burners will be so jealous; ain't you,
+Amandine?"
+
+"I am content with my fine kerchief."
+
+"You'll never be anything but a noodle!" said Calabash, disdainfully;
+and taking from the table a piece of bread and cheese, she gave it to
+the children and said, "Go upstairs to bed. Here is a lantern. Take
+care of the fire, and put out the light before you go to sleep."
+
+"And," added Nicholas, "remember, if you say a word to Martial about
+the box, or the copper, or the clothes, you shall have a dance, so
+that you'll take fire; not to say taking away the silks."
+
+After the departure of the children, Nicholas and his sister hid the
+stolen articles in a little cellar under the kitchen.
+
+"Mother! some drink, and let it be choice," cried the robber. "I have
+well earned my day. Serve supper, Calabash; Martial shall gnaw our
+bones--good enough for him. Now let us talk of the customer, 'Quai de
+Billy,' for to-morrow or next day that must come off, if I wish to
+pocket the money he promised. I am going to tell you, mother; but some
+drink--thunder! let's have some drink. I'll stand some."
+
+Nicholas rattled the money which he had in his pocket anew; then,
+throwing off his goatskin jacket and his black woolen cap, he seated
+himself at table before a ragout of mutton, a piece of cold veal, and
+salad.
+
+When Calabash had brought some wine and brandy, the widow seated
+herself at the table, having Nicholas on her right and Calabash on her
+left; opposite were the unoccupied places of Martial and the two
+children. The thief drew from his pocket a long, broad knife, with a
+horn handle and sharp blade. Looking at this murderous weapon with a
+kind of ferocious satisfaction, he said to the widow, "My rib-tickler
+still cuts well! Pass me the bread, mother!"
+
+"Speaking of knives," said Calabash, "Francois saw something in the
+woodhouse."
+
+"What?" said Nicholas, not understanding her.
+
+"He saw one of the trotters--"
+
+"Of the man?" cried Nicholas.
+
+"Yes," said the widow, putting a slice of meat on the plate of her
+son.
+
+"That's queer, for the hole was very deep," said the brigand, "but
+since that time should have been heaped up."
+
+"We must throw the lot into the river to-night," said the widow."
+
+"It is more sure," answered Nicholas.
+
+"We can tie a stone to it with a piece of old chain," added Calabash.
+
+"Not so foolish!" said Nicholas, pouring out drink; "come, drink with
+us, mother; it will make you more lively."
+
+The widow shook her head, drew back her glass, and said to her son,
+"And the man at the Quai de Billy?"
+
+"Well," said Nicholas, continuing to eat and drink. "On arriving at
+the wharf, I tied up my boat, and mounted on the wharf; seven o'clock
+struck at the military bakehouse of Chaillot; I could hardly see my
+hand before my face. I walked up and down for about fifteen minutes,
+when I heard some one walk softly behind me. I stopped; a man wrapped
+in a cloak approached, coughing; he halted. All that I know of his
+face is, that his cloak hid his nose, and his hat covered his eyes."
+
+(This mysterious personage was Jacques Ferrand, who, wishing to make
+away with Fleur-de-Marie, had that morning dispatched Mrs. Seraphin to
+the Martials, whom he hoped to make his instruments in this new
+crime.)
+
+"'Bradamanti,' said the tax-payer," continued Nicholas; "the password
+agreed upon with the old woman. 'Ravageur,' I replied. 'Is your name
+Martial?' said he to me. 'Rather!' 'A woman came to your island this
+morning; what did she say?' 'That you had something to say to me from
+M. Bradamanti.' 'Do you wish to gain some money?' 'Yes, much.' 'Have
+you a boat?' 'Four! it is our business; boatmen and ravageurs from
+father to son, at your service.' 'I'll tell you what is to be done--if
+you are not afraid--' 'Afraid--of what?' 'To see some one _drowned
+by accident_; only it is necessary to assist the _accident_.
+Do you comprehend?' 'Oh, you want to make some cove drink of the Seine
+by chance! that suits me; but, as it is rather a delicate draught, the
+seasoning will cost rather dear.' 'How much for two?' 'For two! will
+there be two persons to make soup of in the river?' 'Yes.' 'Five
+hundred francs a-head, and not dear.' 'Agreed for a thousand francs.'
+'Pay in advance?' 'Two hundred in advance, the remainder afterward.'
+'You are afraid to trust me?' 'No, you can pocket my two hundred
+francs without fulfilling our agreement.' 'And you, old friend, once
+the affair finished, when I ask you for the remainder, can answer me--
+go to the deuce!' 'You must run your chance; does this suit you, yes
+or no? Two hundred francs down, and the night after to-morrow, here,
+at nine o'clock, I will give you eight hundred francs.' 'And who shall
+tell you that I have made these two persons drink?' 'I shall know it:
+that's my affair! Is it a bargain?' 'It is.' 'Here's your money. Now
+listen to me; you will know the old woman again who came to see you
+this morning?' 'Yes.' 'To-morrow, or the day after at furthest, you
+will see her arrive, about four o'clock in the afternoon, on the shore
+opposite your island with a young girl; the old woman will make you a
+signal by waving her handkerchief.' 'Yes.' 'How long does it take to
+go from the shore to your island?' 'Twenty good minutes.' 'Your boats
+have flat bottoms.' 'Flat as your hand.' 'You must make a hole in the
+bottom of one of your boats, so as to be able, by opening it, to make
+it sink in a twinkling; do you comprehend?' 'Very well; you are the
+devil! I have an old boat that I was about to break up; it will just
+answer for this last voyage.' 'You set out, then, from your island
+with this boat; a good boat follows you, conducted by some one of your
+family. You land; you take the old woman and the young girl on board
+your boat, and you set off for the island; but, at a reasonable
+distance from the shore, you feign to stoop to fix something; you open
+the hole, and you jump lightly into the other boat, while the old
+woman and the young girl--' 'Drink out of the same cup--that's it.'
+'But are you sure of not being disturbed should there be any guests at
+your tavern?' 'No fear, at this time, in winter, above all, no one
+comes; it is our dead season; and if any one should come, they would
+not be in the way; on the contrary--all tried friends.' 'Very well!
+Besides, you will not be at all compromised; the boat will sink
+through age, and the old woman with it. In fine, to be well assured
+that both of them are drowned (remember, by accident), you should, if
+they appear again, or if they cling to the boat, appear to do all in
+your power to assist them, and--' 'Aid them--to dive again! Good
+again.' 'It is better that the job take place after sunset, so that it
+be dark when they fall into the water.' 'No, for if one cannot see
+clear, how can they know whether the two women have drunk their fill,
+or want some more?' 'That is true; then the accident must happen
+before dark.' 'Very good; but does the old woman suspect anything?'
+'No. On arriving she will whisper in your ear: We must drown the girl;
+a short time before you sink the boat, make me a sign, so that I can
+escape with you. You must answer in such a manner as to calm any
+suspicions.' 'So that she thinks to lead the girl to drink?' 'And she
+will drink with her.' 'It is wisely arranged.' 'Above all, let the old
+woman suspect nothing.' 'Be easy; she shall swallow it like honey.'
+'Well, good luck! If I am pleased, perhaps I shall employ you again.'
+'At your service.' Thereupon," said the brigand, ending his story, "I
+left the man in the cloak, got into my boat, and, passing by the
+barge, I picked up the booty you have seen."
+
+It will be seen from this recital, that the notary wished, by a double
+crime, to get rid of Fleur-de-Marie and of Mrs. Seraphin at the same
+time, by making the latter fall into the snare she believed only laid
+for La Goualeuse. The reasons for putting the latter out of the way
+are known to the reader; and in sacrificing Mrs. Seraphin, he silenced
+one of his accomplices (Bradamanti was the other), who could at any
+time ruin him by ruining themselves, it is true; but Jacques Ferrand
+thought his secrets better guarded by the tomb than by personal
+interest. The widow and Calabash had attentively listened to Nicholas,
+who had only interrupted himself to drink to excess. For this reason
+he began to talk with singular warmth.
+
+"That's not all; I have managed another affair with La Chouette and
+Barbillon, of the Rue aux Feves. It is a famous plant, knowingly got
+up, and if we don't fail, there'll be something to try, I tell you. It
+is in contemplation to rob a diamond broker, who has sometimes as much
+as fifty thousand francs' value in her box."
+
+"Fifty thousand francs!" cried mother and daughter, their eyes
+sparkling with cupidity.
+
+"Yes, that's all! Bras-Rouge is in the game. Yesterday he decoyed the
+broker by a letter which Barbillon and I took to her on the Boulevard
+Saint Denis. Brass-Rouge is a famous fellow! No one suspects him. To
+make her bite, he has already sold her a diamond for four hundred
+francs. She will not fail to come, at dusk, to his tavern in the
+Champs Elysees. We will be there concealed. Calabash may come also, to
+take care of my boat. If it is necessary to pack up the broker, dead
+or alive, this will be a nice carriage, and leave no traces behind.
+There's a plan for you! Rouge of a Bras-Rouge, what a college-bred
+scamp!"
+
+"I am always suspicious of Bras-Rouge," said the widow. "After the
+affair of the Rue Montmartre, your brother Ambrose was sent to Toulon,
+and Bras-Rouge was released."
+
+"Because there was no proof against him, he is so cunning! But betray
+others--never!"
+
+The widow shook her head, as if she had been only half convinced of
+the probity of Bras-Rouge. "I prefer," said she, "the affair of the
+Quai de Billy--the women-drowning. But Martial will be in the way, as
+he always is."
+
+"The devil's thunder will not rid us of him then?" cried Nicholas,
+half drunk, sticking his long knife with fury in the table.
+
+"I told mother that we had had enough of him; that it could not last,"
+said Calabash; "as long as he is here, we can make nothing out of the
+children."
+
+"I tell you he is capable of denouncing us any day, the sneak," said
+Nicholas. "Do you see, mother; if you'd have agreed," added he, in a
+ferocious manner, looking at the widow, "all would have been settled."
+
+"There are other means."
+
+"This is the best."
+
+"At present, no," answered the widow, with a tone so absolute that
+Nicholas was quiet, ruled by her influence. She added, "To-morrow
+morning he leaves the island forever."
+
+"How?" said Calabash and Nicholas in a breath.
+
+"He will soon come in; seek a quarrel--boldly--as you have never dared
+to do. Come to blows, if needs be. He is strong, but you will be two,
+and I will help you. Above all, no knives--no blood; let him be
+beaten, not wounded."
+
+"And what then?" asked Nicholas.
+
+"We'll have an explanation; we will tell him to leave the island to-morrow,
+otherwise we'll repeat this again to-morrow night; such continual
+quarrels will disgust him, I know; we have let him be too quiet."
+
+"But he is stubborn as a mule; he'll remain on account of the
+children," said Calabash.
+
+"He is dead beat, but an attack will not scare him," added Nicholas.
+
+"Oh, yes," said the widow; "but every day, every day is too much; he
+will give up."
+
+"And if he will not?"
+
+"Then I have another plan to force him to leave tonight, or to-morrow
+morning at latest," answered the widow, with a strange smile.
+
+"Truly, mother?"
+
+"Yes; but I would rather frighten him by quarreling and fighting; if I
+do not then succeed, I'll try the other way."
+
+"And if the other way don't answer, mother?" said Nicholas.
+
+"There is still another, which always does," replied the widow.
+
+Suddenly the door opened and Martial entered. It blew so hard outside
+that they had not heard the barking of the dogs announcing the arrival
+of the gallows widow's first-born.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+MOTHER AND SON.
+
+
+Ignorant of these evil designs, Martial slowly entered into the
+kitchen.
+
+A few words of La Louve, in her conversation with Fleur-de-Marie, have
+already informed us of the singular life of this man. Endowed with
+good natural instincts, incapable of an action positively bad or
+wicked, Martial did not conduct himself as he should have done. He
+fished contrary to law, and his strength and audacity inspired so much
+terror in the river-keepers, that they shut their eyes on his
+proceedings.
+
+The lover of La Louve resembled Francois and Amandine very much; he
+was of middling stature, but robust and broad-shouldered; his thick,
+red hair, cut short, laid in points on his open forehead; his thick,
+heavy beard, his large cheeks, square nose, bold blue eyes, gave to
+him a singularly resolute expression.
+
+He wore an old tarpaulin glazed hat; and, notwithstanding the cold,
+had nothing on but a wretched blouse over his well-worn vest and
+coarse velveteen trousers. He held in his hand an enormous knotty
+stick, which he placed alongside of him on the table.
+
+A large dog, with crooked legs, came in with Martial; but he remained
+near the door, not daring to approach the fire, or the people at the
+table; experience had proved to old Miraut, that he was, as well as
+his master, not in very good odor with the family.
+
+"Where are the children?" were the first words of Martial, as he took
+his seat at the table.
+
+"They are where they are," answered Calabash, sharply.
+
+"Where are the children, mother?" repeated Martial, without paying any
+attention to his sister.
+
+"Gone to bed," answered the widow, dryly.
+
+"Have they supped, mother?"
+
+"What's that to you?" cried Nicholas, brutally, after having swallowed
+a large glass of wine, to augment his audacity.
+
+Martial as indifferent to the attacks of Nicholas as he was to
+Calabash's, said to his mother, "I am sorry the children have already
+gone to bed, for I like to have them alongside of me when I sup."
+
+"And we, as they trouble us, packed them off," cried Nicholas; "if it
+don't please you, go and look for them!"
+
+Martial, much surprised, looked fixedly at his brother. Then, as if
+reflecting on the folly of a quarrel, he shrugged his shoulders, cut a
+piece of bread with his knife, and helped himself to a slice of meat.
+The terrier had drawn nearer to Nicholas, although still at a very
+respectful distance; the bandit, irritated at the contemptuous
+indifference of his brother, and hoping to make him lose his patience
+by striking the dog, gave Miraut a furious kick, which made him howl
+piteously. Martial became purple, pressed in his contracted hands the
+knife which he held, and struck violently on the table; but, still
+containing himself, he called his dog, and said gently, "Here,
+Miraut." The terrier came and laid down at his master's feet. This
+moderation defeated the projects of Nicholas, who wished to push his
+brother to extremities to bring about a rupture. So he added, "I don't
+like dogs--I won't have your dog here." For answer, Martial poured out
+a glass of wine, and drank it slowly.
+
+Exchanging a rapid glance with Nicholas, the widow encouraged him by a
+sign to continue his hostilities, hoping that a violent quarrel would
+bring about a rupture and a complete separation.
+
+Nicholas went and took the willow switch which stood in the corner,
+and, approaching the terrier, struck him, crying, "Get out of this,
+Miraut!" Up to this time, Nicholas had often shown his animosity
+toward Martial, but never before had he dared to provoke him with so
+much audacity and perseverance. At the yelp from his dog, Martial
+rose, opened the door, put the terrier outside, and returned to
+continue his supper. This incredible patience, little in harmony with
+the ordinary character of Martial, confounded his aggressors. They
+looked at each other, very much surprised. He, appearing completely a
+stranger to what was passing, ate heartily, and kept profound silence.
+
+"Calabash, take away the wine," said the widow to her daughter. She
+hastened to obey, when Martial said, "Stop! I have not finished my
+supper."
+
+"So much the worse!" said the widow, taking away the bottle.
+
+"Ah! as you like," answered he, and pouring out a large glass of
+water, he drank it, and smacking his lips, cried, "That's famous
+water!" This imperturbable coolness still more irritated Nicholas,
+already much excited by his frequent libations; nevertheless, he
+recoiled before a direct attack, knowing the superior strength of his
+brother; suddenly he cried:
+
+"You have done well to knock under, with your dog, Martial; it is a
+good habit to get into; for you must expect to see La Louve kicked
+out, just as we have kicked out your dog."
+
+"Oh, yes--for if she has the misfortune to come to the island when she
+comes out of prison," said Calabash, comprehending the intention of
+Nicholas, "I will box her soundly."
+
+"And I'll give her a ducking in the mud, near the hovel at the other
+end of the island," added Nicholas; "and if she comes up again, I'll
+put her under again with a kick--the hussy."
+
+This insult, addressed to La Louvs whom he loved with unqualified
+passion, triumphed over the pacific resolutions of Martial; he knit
+his brows, his blood rushed to his face, the veins on his forehead and
+neck swelled like ropes; yet he still had command over himself to say
+to Nicholas, in a voice altered by suppressed rage. "Take care--you
+seek a quarrel, and you will find a new trick that you do not look
+for."
+
+"A trick--to me?"
+
+"Yes, better than the last."
+
+"How? Nicholas," said Calabash, with well-feigned attachment, "has
+Martial beat you? I say, mother, do you hear? I am no more astonished
+that Nicholas is afraid of him."
+
+"He whipped me, because he took me unawares," cried Nicholas, becoming
+pale with rage.
+
+"You lie! You attacked me slyly, I kicked you, and I took pity on you,
+but if you undertake to speak again of La Louve--understand well, of
+my Louve--then I'll have no mercy--you shall carry my marks for a long
+time."
+
+"And if I wish to speak of La Louve, I?" said Calabash.
+
+"I will give you a couple of boxes just to warm you; and if you go on,
+I'll go on to warm you."
+
+"And if I speak of her?" said the widow, slowly.
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes, me!"
+
+"You?" said Martial, making a violent effort to contain himself,
+"you?"
+
+"You will beat me also, is it not so?"
+
+"No! but if you speak of La Louve I'll thrash Nicholas; now go on, it
+is your affair, and his also."
+
+"You," cried the enraged bandit, raising his dangerous knife, "you
+thrash me?"
+
+"Nicholas, no knife!" cried the widow, endeavoring to seize the arm of
+her son. But he, drunk with wine and anger, pushed his mother rudely
+on one side, and rushed at his brother. Martial fell back quickly,
+seized his heavy knotted stick, and put himself on the defensive.
+
+"Nicholas, no knife!" repeated the widow.
+
+"Let him alone!" cried Calabash, arming herself with a hatchet.
+
+Nicholas, brandishing his formidable knife, watched a favorable moment
+to throw himself on his brother. "I tell you," he cried, "that I'll
+crush you and your Louve, both. Now, mother--now, Calabash! let us
+cool him; this has lasted too long!" And, believing the time favorable
+for his attack, the brigand rushed toward his brother with his knife
+raised.
+
+Martial, very expert with a club, retreated quickly, lifted his stick,
+made a quick turn with it in the air, describing the figure eight, and
+let it fall heavily on the arm of Nicholas, who, hurt severely,
+dropped his knife. "Brigand, you have broken my arm!" cried he, taking
+hold of his arm with his left hand.
+
+"No, I felt my club rebound," answered Martial, kicking the knife
+under the table. Then, profiting by the situation of Nicholas, he took
+him by the collar, pushed him roughly backward toward the door of the
+little cellar, opened it with one hand, and with the other threw him
+in and shut the door.
+
+Returning afterward to the two women, he took Calabash by the
+shoulders, and, in spite of her resistance, her cries, and a blow from
+the hatchet which wounded him slightly in the hand, he locked her in
+the lower room of the tavern, which was adjoining the kitchen; then,
+addressing the widow, still stupefied at this maneuver, as skillful as
+it was unexpected, he said, coldly, "Now, mother, for us two."
+
+"Well! yes; for us two," cried the widow, and her stoical face became
+animated, her wan complexion became suffused, her eyes sparkled, anger
+and hatred gave a terrible character to her features. "Yes; now for us
+two!" said she, in a threatening tone; "I expected this moment--you
+shall know at last what I have on my heart."
+
+"And I also will tell you."
+
+"If you live a hundred years you shall recollect this night."
+
+"I shall remember it! My brother and sister wished to murder me; you
+did nothing to prevent it. But come, speak: what have you against me?"
+
+"What's my grudge?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Since the death of your father, you have done nothing but cowardly
+acts."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes, coward! Instead of staying with us to sustain us, you fled to
+Rambouillet, to poach in the woods with the game-peddler you knew at
+Bercy."
+
+"If I remained here, I should now have been at the galleys, like
+Ambrose, or fit to go, like Nicholas; I did not wish to be a robber
+like the others. Hence your hatred."
+
+"And what was your trade? You stole game; you stole fish; no danger in
+that, coward!"
+
+"Fish, as well as game, belong to no one; to-day in one place, to-morrow
+in another; it is for who can get it. I do not steal; as for being a
+coward---"
+
+"You fight for money men who are weaker than you are!"
+
+"Because they have beaten those who are weaker than they are!"
+
+"Trade of a coward! Trade of a coward!"
+
+"There are more honest, it is true; it is not for you to tell me of
+it."
+
+"Why have you not followed these honest callings, instead of lounging
+here and living at my expense?"
+
+"I give you the first fish I take, and what money I have--it is not
+much, but it is enough. I cost you nothing. I have tried to be a
+locksmith, to gain more; but when one from his infancy has idled on
+the river and in the woods, one can't do anything else; it is done for
+life. And besides, I have always preferred to live alone, on the river
+or in the woods; there no one questions me. Instead of that, in other
+places, if any one should ask me of my father, must I not answer--
+guillotined! of my brother--galley-slave! of my sister--thief!"
+
+"And of your mother, what would you say!"
+
+"I'd say she was dead."
+
+"And you would do well; it is all as--I disown you, coward! Your
+brother is at the galleys. Your grandfather and father have bravely
+finished on the scaffold, in defying the priest and the executioner.
+Instead of avenging them, you tremble!"
+
+"Avenge them!"
+
+"Yes, to show yourself a real Martial, spit on the knife of Jack Ketch
+and his red cap, and finish like father and mother, brother and
+sister."
+
+Habituated as Martial was to the ferocious bombast of his mother, he
+could not refrain from shuddering.
+
+She resumed, with increasing fury, "Oh! coward, still more 'creatur'
+than coward! You wish to be honest. Honest? is it that you shall not
+always be despised, as the son of a murderer, brother of a galley-slave;
+but you, instead of hugging vengeance, you are afraid; instead
+of biting, you fly; when they cut off your father's head, you left us,
+coward! And you knew we could not leave the island without being
+hunted and howled after like mad dogs. Oh, they shall pay for it, they
+shall pay for it!"
+
+"One man--ten men can't make me afraid! but to be pointed at by
+everybody as the son and brother of condemned criminals--well, no! I
+could not stand it. I preferred to go and poach with Pierre the
+game-seller."
+
+"Why did you not remain in your woods?"
+
+"I came back on account of my affair with the guard, and above all, on
+account of the children, because they were of an age to be ruined by
+bad example!"
+
+"What is that to you?"
+
+"To me? because I do not wish to see them become like Ambrose,
+Nicholas, and Calabash."
+
+"Not possible!"
+
+"And alone with you all, they would not have failed, I made myself an
+apprentice to try to earn something, to take them with me, and leave
+the island; but at Paris every one knew it; it was always son of the
+guillotined, brother of the galley slave. I had continual fights. It
+tired me."
+
+"And that did not tire you to be honest; that succeeded so well,
+instead of having the heart to return to us, to do as we do--as the
+children shall do in spite of you--yes, in spite of you. You think you
+will stuff them with your preachings, but we are here. Francois
+already belongs to us nearly--the first occasion, and he shall be of
+the band."
+
+"I tell you no."
+
+"You will see. I know it. There is vice at the bottom; but you
+restrain him. Amandine, when she is once fifteen, will go alone. Ah!
+they have thrown stones at us, they have hunted us like mad dogs. They
+shall see what our family is--except you, coward; for you alone make
+us blush!"
+
+"It is a pity."
+
+"And as you may be spoiled here with us, to-morrow you will go from
+this never to return."
+
+Martial looked at his mother with surprise; after a moment's pause he
+said, "You tried to get up a quarrel at supper to arrive at this."
+
+"Yes, to show you what you may expect if you will stay here in spite
+of us--a hell--do you understand?--a hell upon earth. Every day
+disputes, blows, fights; and we shall not be alone like to-night; we
+will have friends to help us; you'll not hold on a week."
+
+"You think to frighten me?"
+
+"I tell you what will happen to you."
+
+"No matter. I remain."
+
+"You will remain here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In spite of us?"
+
+"In spite of you, and Calabash, and Nicholas, and all others of the
+same kidney."
+
+"Stop; you make me laugh."
+
+"I tell you I'll remain here until I find the means to earn my living
+elsewhere with the children; alone, I should not be embarrassed. I
+should return to the woods; but, on their account, I want more time to
+find out what I want. Until then I remain."
+
+"Ah! you remain until you can take away the children?"
+
+"As you say!"
+
+"Take away the children?"
+
+"When I say to them come, they will come, and running too, I answer
+for it."
+
+The widow shrugged her shoulders, and replied, "Listen to me. I told
+you, just now, if you were to live a thousand years, you would
+remember this night. I am going to explain to you why; but once more,
+have you well decided not to go?"
+
+"Yes! yes! a thousand times, yes!"
+
+"Directly you will say no! a thousand times, no! Listen to me well. Do
+you know what trade your brother follows?"
+
+"I suspect, but I do not want to know."
+
+"You shall know. He steals."
+
+"So much the worse for him."
+
+"And for you."
+
+"For me?"
+
+"He is a burglar, a galley affair; we receive his plunder; if it is
+discovered, we shall be condemned to the same punishment as receivers,
+and you also; the family will be carried off, and the children will be
+turned into the streets, where they will learn the trade of your
+father and grandfather quite as well as here."
+
+"I arrested as a receiver, as your accomplice! On what proof?"
+
+"No one knows how you live; you are a vagrant on the water--you have
+the reputation of a bad man--you live with us. Who will you make
+believe that you are ignorant of our doings?"
+
+"I will prove the contrary."
+
+"We will accuse you as our accomplice."
+
+"Accuse me! why?"
+
+"To reward you for remaining here in spite of us."
+
+"Just now you wished to alarm me in one way; now it is in another;
+that don't take. I shall prove that I have never stolen. I remain."
+
+"Ah! you remain? Listen, then, once more; do you remember what
+happened last Christmas night?"
+
+"Christmas night?" said Martial, endeavoring to collect his thoughts.
+
+"Recollect well."
+
+"I do not recollect."
+
+"You do not remember that Bras-Rouge brought here at night a man well
+dressed, who wished to be concealed?"
+
+"Yes, now I remember; I went upstairs to bed, and I left him at supper
+with you. He passed the night here; before daylight Nicholas took him
+to Saint Ouen."
+
+"You are sure Nicholas took him to Saint Ouen."
+
+"You told me so the next morning!"
+
+"Christmas night you were then here?"
+
+"Yes. Well?"
+
+"On that night that man, who had much money with him, was killed in
+this house."
+
+"He! Here!"
+
+"And robbed, and buried in the little wood-house."
+
+"It is not true," cried Martial, becoming pale with alarm, and not
+willing to believe in this new crime of his kindred. "You wish to
+alarm me. Once more I say it is not true."
+
+"Ask your pet, Francois, what he saw in the wood-house."
+
+"Francois, what did he see?"
+
+"One of the feet of the man sticking out of the ground. Take the
+lantern; go there, and satisfy yourself."
+
+"No," said Martial, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. "No, I do not
+believe you. You tell me that to---"
+
+"To prove to you that, if you live here in spite of us, you run the
+risk every moment to be arrested as an accomplice in murder and
+robbery. You were here Christmas night; we will say how you gave us
+your aid; how can you prove the contrary?"
+
+"Oh!" said Martial, hiding his face in his hands.
+
+"Now will you go?" said the widow, with a sarcastic smile.
+
+Martial was thunderstruck; he did not doubt the truth of what his
+mother had said; the roving life he led, his residence with a family
+so criminal, might cause heavy suspicions to fall upon him, and these
+might be changed into certainties in the eyes of justice, if his
+mother, his brother, his sister, pointed to him as their accomplice.
+The widow enjoyed the situation of her son.
+
+"You have the means to escape from this; denounce us!"
+
+"I ought to do it, but I shall not; you know it well!"
+
+"It is for this I have told you all. Now will you go?"
+
+Martial tried to soften his mother; with a mellowed voice he said,
+"Mother, I do not believe you capable of this murder."
+
+"As you like, but go away."
+
+"I will go on one condition."
+
+"No conditions."
+
+"You will place the children as apprentices far from this, in the
+provinces."
+
+"They shall remain here."
+
+"Come now, mother; when you have made them like Nicholas, Ambrose,
+father--what good will it do you?"
+
+"To do some good business with their aid. We are not yet too many.
+Calabash remains here with me to keep the tavern. Nicholas is alone;
+once taught, Francois and Amandine will help him. They threw stones at
+them also, children as they were; they must revenge themselves."
+
+"Mother, you love Calabash and Nicholas, don't you?"
+
+"What then?"
+
+"They will go to the scaffold like father."
+
+"What then, what then?"
+
+"And does not their fate make you tremble?"
+
+"Their fate shall be mine--neither better nor worse. I steal, they
+steal; I kill, they kill. Who takes the mother will take the children.
+We will not be separated. If our heads fall, they shall fall in the
+same basket, where they will say adieu! We will not turn back; you are
+the only coward in the family; we drive you away. Get out!"
+
+"But the children--the children!"
+
+"The children will grow up. I tell you, except for you, they would
+have been already formed. Francois is almost ready; when you are gone,
+Amandine shall make up for lost time."
+
+"Mother, I entreat you, consent to send the children away as
+apprentices far from here."
+
+"How many times must I tell you that they are in apprenticeship here?"
+
+The widow articulated these words in such a stern manner that Martial
+lost all hope of softening this heart of bronze.
+
+"Since it is thus," said he, in a resolute and brief tone, "listen to
+me in your turn, mother; I remain."
+
+"Ah, ah!"
+
+"Not in this house. I should be murdered by Nicholas, or poisoned by
+Calabash; but, as I have not the means to lodge elsewhere, the
+children and I will live in the hovel at the other end of the island:
+the door is strong; I will make it stronger. Once there, well
+barricaded, with my gun, my dog, and my club, I fear no one. To-morrow
+morning I will take away the children; they will come with me,
+sometimes in my boat, sometimes on the mainland. At night they shall
+sleep near me in the cabin; we will live on my fishing. This shall
+continue until I find a place for them; and I will find one."
+
+"Ah! is it so?"
+
+"Neither you, nor my brother, nor Calabash can prevent it. If your
+thefts and your murders are discovered while I am still on the island,
+so much the worse; I must run my chance. I shall explain that I
+returned: that I remained on account of the children, to prevent their
+becoming rogues. They can judge. But may the thunder crush me if I
+leave this island, and if the children remain one day more in this
+house! Yes, I defy you--defy you and yours to drive me from the
+island!"
+
+The widow knew the resolution of Martial; the children loved their
+eldest brother as much as they feared him; they would follow him,
+then, without hesitation, when he wished it. As to him, well armed,
+resolute, always on his guard--in his boat during the day, barricaded
+during the in his cabin--he had nothing to fear from any evil designs
+of his family. The project of Martial could then, on all points, be
+realized. But the widow had many reasons to prevent the execution.
+
+In the first place, like as honest artisans consider sometimes the
+number of their children as riches, on account of their services, so
+the widow counted on Amandine and Francois to assist her in her
+crimes. Then, what she had said of her desire to avenge her husband
+and her son was true. Certain beings, nursed, become aged, hardened in
+crime, enter into open revolt, into a murderous warfare against
+society, and believe by new acts of guilt to avenge themselves for the
+just punishment which has overtaken them and theirs. And then, in
+fine, the wicked designs of Nicholas against Fleur-de-Marie, and still
+later against the diamond broker, might be defeated by the presence of
+Martial. The widow had hoped to bring about an immediate separation
+between herself and Martial, either by fomenting the quarrel with
+Nicholas, or by revealing to him what risk he ran by remaining on the
+island. As cunning as she was acute, the widow, perceiving that she
+was mistaken, felt that it was necessary to have recourse to perfidy
+to entrap her son in a bloody snare. She resumed then, after a long
+silence, and with affected bitterness: "I see your plan; you do not
+wish to denounce us yourself--you wish to do it through the children."
+
+"I?"
+
+"They know now that there is a man buried here; they know that
+Nicholas has stolen: once in apprenticeship, they will speak; we shall
+be taken, and we shall all be executed--you, as well as we; that's
+what will happen if I listen to you--if I allow you to place the
+children elsewhere. And yet you say you don't wish us any harm! I do
+not ask you to love me; but do not hasten the moment when we shall be
+taken."
+
+The softened tones of the widow made Martial believe that his threats
+had produced a salutary effect: he fell into a frightful snare.
+
+"I know the children," replied he. "I am sure if I tell them to say
+nothing they will be quiet; besides, I shall always be with them, and
+will answer for their silence."
+
+"Can any one answer for the words of a child? at Paris, above all,
+where people are so curious and talkative? It is as much to keep them
+silent as to aid us that I wish to keep them here."
+
+"Do they not go to the village and to Paris now? Who prevents them
+from speaking, if they wish to speak? If they were far away from here,
+so much the better: what they might say would be of no consequence."
+
+"Far from here! and where is that?" said the widow, looking steadily
+at her son.
+
+"Let me take them away; no consequence to you."
+
+"How would you live?"
+
+"My old master, the locksmith, is a good man. I will tell him what is
+necessary, and perhaps he will lend me something on account of the
+children; with that I'll go and bind them out far away from this. We
+set out in two days, and you will never hear more of us."
+
+"No; I prefer to have them with me. I shall be more sure of them."
+
+"Then I establish myself to-morrow at the hovel, waiting for something
+better. I have a head also, and you know it."
+
+"Yes, I know it. Oh, how I wish to see you far away from this! Why did
+you not stay in your woods?"
+
+"I offer to rid you both of myself and the children."
+
+"You would leave La Louve, then--she whom you love so well?"
+
+"That's my business: I know what I have to do; I have a plan."
+
+"If I let you take them away, will you never return to Paris?"
+
+"In three days we will be off, and like the dead for you."
+
+"I prefer to have it so, rather than you should always be here, and be
+suspicious of them. Come, since it must be so, take them away, and
+clear out as soon as possible, that I may never see you again."
+
+"Is this settled?"
+
+"It is. Give me the key of the cellar, so that I can release
+Nicholas."
+
+"No he can sleep off his wine there."
+
+"And Calabash?"
+
+"It is different. You can open the door after I have gone to bed; it
+makes me feel bad to see her."
+
+"Go; and may the devil confound you!"
+
+"Is it your good-night, mother?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Happily, it will be the last," said Martial.
+
+"The last," replied the widow.
+
+Her son lighted a candle, and, opening the kitchen door, whistled to
+his dog, which came bounding in, and followed his master to the upper
+story of the mansion.
+
+"Go! your account is finished," muttered the mother, shaking her fist
+at her son, who had just gone upstairs, "you have brought it upon
+yourself." Then, assisted by Calabash, who went to look for a bunch of
+false keys, the widow picked the lock of the cellar where Nicholas was
+confined, and set him at liberty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+FRANCOIS AND AMANDINE.
+
+
+Francois and Amandine slept in a room situated immediately over the
+kitchen, at the extremity of a corridor, into which opened several
+other rooms, serving as private dining-rooms to the frequenters of the
+tavern. After having partaken of their frugal supper, instead of
+extinguishing their lantern, according to the orders of the widow, the
+two children had watched, leaving their door open, to see Martial when
+he should come to his room. Placed on a rickety stool, the lantern
+shed a sickly light through the miserable room. Walls of plaster, a
+cot for Francois, a child's bedstead, very old, and much too short for
+Amandine, a heap of broken chairs and benches, the result of some of
+the drunken brawls and turbulent conduct which had taken place at the
+tavern; such was the interior of this den.
+
+Amandine, seated on the edge of the cot, tried to dress her head with
+the stolen gift of her brother Nicholas, Francois, kneeling, presented
+a fragment of looking-glass to his sister, who, with her head half-turned
+round, was occupied in tying the ends of the silk into a large
+rosette. Very attentive, and very much struck with this coiffure,
+Francois neglected for a moment to hold the glass in such a position
+that his sister could see. "Raise the glass higher now--I cannot see;
+there--so--good. Wait a little; now I have finished. Look! how do you
+think it looks?"
+
+"Oh, very well--very well! What a fine tie! You'll make one just like
+it with my cravat, won't you?"
+
+"Yes, directly; but let me walk a little. You go before--backward;
+hold the glass up so that I can see myself as I walk." Francois
+executed this difficult maneuver very well, to the great satisfaction
+of Amandine, who strutted up and down triumphantly, under the rosette
+and ears of her _foulard._ Very innocent under any other
+circumstances, this conduct become culpable, as Francois and Amandine
+both knew the prize was stolen; another proof of the frightful
+facility with which children, even well endowed, are corrupted almost
+without knowing it, when they are continually plunged in a criminal
+atmosphere.
+
+And, besides, the sole mentor of these little unfortunates, their
+brother Martial, was not himself irreproachable, as we have said:
+incapable of committing a theft or murder, he did not the less lead an
+irregular and wandering life. They refused to commit certain bad
+actions, not from honesty, but to obey Martial, whom they tenderly
+loved, and to disobey their mother, whom they feared and hated. It is
+hard to say how much the perceptions of morality with these children
+were doubtful, vacillating, precarious; with Francois particularly,
+arrived at that dangerous period where the mind, hesitating, undecided
+between good and evil, perhaps in one moment may be lost or saved.
+
+"How this red becomes you, sister!" said Francois. "How pretty it is!
+When we go and play on the shore in front of the plaster-kilns, you
+must dress yourself so, to make the children wild, who are always
+throwing stones at us and calling us little _guillotines._ I'll
+put on my fine red cravat, and we will tell them, 'Never mind, you
+haven't such handsome handkerchiefs as these.'"
+
+"But I say, Francois," said Amandine, after a pause, "if they knew
+that they were stolen, they would call us little thieves."
+
+"Who cares if they do?"
+
+"When it is not true, it's all the same; but now--"
+
+"Since Nicholas has given us these, we have not stolen them."
+
+"Yes, but he did; he took them from a boat; and brother Martial says
+we must not steal."
+
+"But since Nicholas has stolen them, it is none of our business."
+
+"You think so, Francois?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"Yet it seems to me that I should have preferred that the person to
+whom they belonged should have given them to us. Don't you think so,
+Francois?"
+
+"Oh, it's all the same to me. They have been given to us, and that's
+enough."
+
+"You are very sure?"
+
+"Why, yes, yes; do be quiet."
+
+"Then, so much the better; we have not done what brother Martial
+forbids, and we have fine handkerchiefs."
+
+"I say, Amandine, if he knew that the other day Calabash made you take
+that handkerchief from the peddler's pack, when his back was turned!"
+
+"Oh, Francois, do not speak of that!" said the poor child, whose eyes
+were filled with tears: "brother Martial would love me no more. He
+would leave us all alone here."
+
+"Don't be afraid, I will not tell him," he said, laughing.
+
+"Oh, don't laugh at that. Francois; I am sorry enough; but I had to do
+it. Sister pinched me till the blood came, and then she looked at me
+so--so! and yet twice my heart failed me; I thought I could never do
+it. Finally, the peddler saw nothing, and sister kept the kerchief. If
+he had seen me, Francois, they would have put me in prison."
+
+"They did not see you; it is just the same as if you had not stolen."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"And in prison, how unhappy one must be!"
+
+"On the contrary."
+
+"How, Francois, on the contrary?"
+
+"Look here! you know the big lame man who lives at Paris with Pere
+Micou; the man who sells for Nicholas; who keeps furnished lodgings,
+Passage de la Brasserie?"
+
+"A big lame man?"
+
+"Why, yes; who came here at the end of the autumn from Pere Micou,
+with a man with monkeys, and two women."
+
+"Oh, yes, yes; the lame man who spent so much money?"
+
+"I think so; he paid for everybody."
+
+"Do you recollect the excursion on the water?"
+
+[Illustration: THE BRIGAND'S ATTACK ON HIS BROTHER]
+
+"I went with them, and the man with the monkeys took his organ on
+board to have some music in the boat."
+
+"And then, at night, what fine fireworks they had, Francois!"
+
+"Yes; and he was no miser: he gave me ten sous! He drank nothing but
+sealed wine; they had chickens at all their meals; they had at least
+eighty francs' worth."
+
+"As much as that, Francois?" "Oh, yes."
+
+"He was very rich, then?"
+
+"Not at all; what he spent was the money which he earned in prison,
+from whence he had just come."
+
+"He gained all that money in prison?"
+
+"Yes; he said he had seven hundred francs left; that when all was
+gone, he would do some good job, and if they took him, he didn't care,
+because he would return to the prison and join his good friends
+there."
+
+"He wasn't afraid of the prison, then, Francois?".
+
+"Just the contrary; he told Calabash that they were all jolly
+together; that he never had a better bed or better food than in
+prison: good meat four times a week, fire all winter, and a good sum
+when he came out, while there are so many stupid fools of honest
+workmen who were starving for want of work."
+
+"Did the lame man say that?"
+
+"I heard him; for I was rowing in the boat while he told this to
+Calabash and the two women, who said it was the same thing in the
+prison for women; they had just come out."
+
+"But, then, Francois, it can't be so wicked to steal, if one is so
+well off in prison?"
+
+"I don't know; here, there is no one but brother Martial who says it
+is wrong to steal, perhaps he is mistaken."
+
+"Never mind, we must believe him, Francois; he loves us so much!"
+
+"He loves us, it is true! when he is here no one dares to beat us. If
+he had been here to-night, mother wouldn't have whipped me. Old beast!
+ain't she wicked? Oh! I hate her--hate her. How I wish I was a man, to
+pay her back all the blows she has given me, and you, who can't bear
+it as well as I can."
+
+"Oh! Francois, hush, you make me afraid, to hear you say that you
+would like to strike mother!" cried the poor little thing, weeping,
+and throwing her arms around the neck of her brother, whom she
+embraced tenderly.
+
+"No, it is true," answered Francois, repulsing his sister gently; "why
+are mother and Calabash always so severe and cross to us?"
+
+"I do not know," said Amandine, wiping her eyes; "it is, perhaps,
+because they guillotined father and sent Ambrose to the galleys."
+
+"Is that our fault?"
+
+"No; but--"
+
+"If I am always to receive blows in the end, I would rather steal, as
+they wish me to; what good does it do me not to steal?"
+
+"And what would Martial say?"
+
+"Oh! except for him I should have said 'yes' long ago, for I am tired
+of being flogged; now to-night, mother never was so wicked--she was
+like a fury--it was very dark, dark; she said not a word, I only felt
+her cold hand, which held me by the neck, while with the other she
+beat me, and I thought I saw her eyes glisten."
+
+"Poor Francois! because you said you saw a dead man's bones in the
+wood-house?"
+
+"Yes, a foot which stuck out of the earth," said Francois, shuddering
+with affright: "I am sure of it."
+
+"Perhaps formerly there was a burying-ground there?"
+
+"Must think so; but, then, why did mother say she would whip me again
+if I spoke of it to Martial? I tell you what, it is likely some one
+has been killed in a dispute, and been buried there so it should not
+be known." "You are right! for, do you remember, such a thing once
+liked to have happened?"
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"You know the time that Barbillon struck the man with the knife--the
+tall man, who is so thin--so thin that he shows himself for money?"
+
+"Ah! yes, the Living Skeleton, as they call him; mother came and
+separated them, otherwise Barbillon would, perhaps, have killed the
+great skeleton! Did you see how he foamed, and how his eyes stuck out
+of his head?"
+
+"Oh! he is not afraid to stick a knife into one for nothing."
+
+"He is a madcap!"
+
+"Oh! yes, so young, and so wicked, Francois!"
+
+"Tortillard is much younger; and he would be quite as bad, if he had
+the strength."
+
+"Oh! yes, he is very bad. The other day he struck me because I would
+not play with him."
+
+"He struck you? good--the next time he comes--"
+
+"No, no, Francois, it was only in fun."
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"Yes, very sure."
+
+"Very well--or--but I do not know where he gets so much money from;
+when he came here with La Chouette, he showed us some gold pieces of
+twenty francs."
+
+"How impudent he looked when he told us, 'You could have just the
+same, if you were not little duffers.'"
+
+"Duffers?"
+
+"Yes, that means stupid fools."
+
+"Oh, yes! true."
+
+"Forty francs--in gold--how many fine things I would buy with that!
+And you, Amandine?"
+
+"Oh! I likewise."
+
+"And what would you buy?"
+
+"Let me see," said the child, in a meditative manner; "in the first
+place I would get a warm coat for brother Martial, so that he should
+not be cold in his boat."
+
+"But for yourself--for yourself?"
+
+"I would like an infant Saviour, in wax, with his lamb and cross, like
+the image-man had on Sunday, you know, at the door of the church of
+Asnieres."
+
+"I hope no one will tell mother Calabash that they saw us at church."
+
+"True, she has so often forbidden us to enter one. It is a pity, for a
+church is very nice inside, is it not, Francois?"
+
+"Yes, what fine candlesticks!"
+
+"And the picture of the Holy Virgin! how good she looks!"
+
+"And the lamps; and the fine cloth on the table at the end, where the
+priest said mass, with his two friends dressed like himself, who gave
+him water and wine."
+
+"Say, Francois, do you recollect last year, the Fete-Dieu, when we saw
+from here all the little communicants, in their white veils, pass over
+the bridge?"
+
+"What handsome flowers they had!"
+
+"How they sung, and held the ribbons of their banners!"
+
+"And how the silver fringes of the banners glistened in the sun! That
+must have cost a deal of money!"
+
+"Goodness--how handsome it was, Francois!"
+
+"I believe you, and the communicants with their badges of white satin
+on the arm, and wax candles with velvet and gold handles."
+
+"The little boys had banners also, had they not, Francois?"
+
+"Oh! was I not whipped that day because I asked mother why we did not
+walk in the procession, like other children!"
+
+"Then it was that she told us never to enter a church, unless it was
+to steal the money-box for the poor, 'or from the pockets of people
+listening to mass,' added Calabash, laughing and showing her old,
+yellow teeth."
+
+"Bad creature, she is!"
+
+"Oh, before I would steal in a church, they should kill me! Don't you
+say so, Francois?"
+
+"There, or elsewhere--what is the difference when one has decided?"
+
+"I do not know, but I should have more fear; I never could."
+
+"On account of the priests?"
+
+"No, perhaps on account of the picture of the Holy Virgin, who looks
+so good and kind."
+
+"What of that?--the picture can't eat you, little fool!"
+
+"True; but I could not; it is not my fault."
+
+"Speaking of priests, Amandine, do you remember the day when Nicholas
+struck me so hard, because he saw me bow to the cure who was passing
+on the shore? I had seen him saluted--I did the same; I did not think
+there was any harm."
+
+"Yes; but that time Martial said just the same as Nicholas--that we
+had no need to make a salute to a priest."
+
+At this moment Francois and Amandine heard some one walk in the
+corridor.
+
+Martial reached his chamber without any further trouble, after his
+conversation with the widow, believing Nicholas locked up until the
+next morning. Seeing a ray of light issuing from the door of the
+children's room, he went in. They both ran to him and embraced him
+tenderly.
+
+"Not yet gone to bed, little chatterers?"
+
+"No, brother; we waited for you to come and say good-night," said
+Amandine.
+
+"And, besides, some one was talking very loud downstairs, as if it was
+a quarrel," added Francois.
+
+"Yes," said Martial, "I had a dispute with Nicholas, but it is
+nothing. I am glad to find you up; I have some good news to tell you."
+
+"Us, brother?"
+
+"Would you like to go with me away from here--far away?"
+
+"Oh yes, brother!"
+
+"Well, in two or three days all three of us leave the island."
+
+"How glad I am!" cried Amandine, clapping her hands.
+
+"But where shall we go to?" asked Francois.
+
+"You shall see, inquisitive; but never mind, wherever we go, you shall
+learn a good trade, which will make you able to earn your living, that
+is sure."
+
+"Shall I not go any more fishing with you, brother?"
+
+"No, my boy; you shall go as an apprentice to a cabinet-maker or a
+locksmith. You are strong and active; with courage, and by working
+hard, at the end of a year you will be able to earn something. Oh,
+come now, what is the matter? You do not appear to be pleased."
+
+"Because, brother, I--"
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+"Would rather remain with you, fish, mend your nets, than learn a
+trade."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"To be shut up in a shop all day is so gloomy; and to be an apprentice
+is so tiresome." Martial shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You would rather be idle, a vagabond, a rover," said he severely,
+"before becoming a robber?"
+
+"No, brother; but I would rather live here with you, as we live here--
+that's all."
+
+"Yes, that's it--to eat, drink, sleep, and amuse yourself with
+fishing, like a lazybones."
+
+"I like that better."
+
+"It is very probable; but you must like something else. Look here, my
+poor Francois, it is high time that I take you from this place;
+without knowing it, you will become as bad as the others. Mother was
+right--I am afraid you are rather vicious. But you, Amandine, wish to
+learn a trade?"
+
+"Oh, yes, brother; I would rather learn one than stay here. I shall be
+so glad to go away with you and Francois?"
+
+"But what have you got on your head?" said Martial, remarking the
+triumphant head-dress of Amandine.
+
+"A handkerchief which Nicholas gave me."
+
+"He gave me one also," said Francois proudly.
+
+"And where did they come from? It would surprise me if Nicholas should
+have bought them for you."
+
+The children hung their heads, without replying. After a moment's
+pause, Francois said resolutely, "Nicholas gave them to us; we don't
+know where they came from, do we, Amandine?"
+
+"No, no, brother," answered she, stammering and blushing, and not
+daring to raise her eyes."
+
+"Do not tell a lie!" said Martial sweetly.
+
+"We do not lie!" added Francois, boldly.
+
+"Amandine, my child, tell the truth," said Martial, gently.
+
+"Well, to tell the whole truth," answered Amandine, timidly, "they
+came from a box of goods which Nicholas brought to-night in his boat."
+
+"Stolen?"
+
+"I think so, brother, from a barge."
+
+"You see, Francois, you told a lie!" said Martial. The boy held down
+his head, without answering.
+
+"Give me the handkerchief, Amandine; give me yours, also, Francois."
+
+The little girl took off her head-dress, took a last look at the
+enormous rosette, and gave it to Martial, stifling a sigh of regret.
+Francois drew his slowly from his pocket, and, like his sister,
+returned it to Martial.
+
+"To-morrow morning," said he, "I will give these to Nicholas. You
+should not have taken them, my children; to profit by a theft is the
+same as to be the thief."
+
+"It's a pity--they are so handsome!" said Francois.
+
+"When you have learned a trade, and earn money, you can buy some quite
+as handsome. Come, go to bed; it is late, children."
+
+"You are not angry, brother?" said Amandine timidly.
+
+"No, no, my girl; it is not your fault. You live with rogues--you do
+as they do without knowing it. When you are with honest people, you
+will do as they do; and you soon shall be there--or deuce take me!
+Good-night!"
+
+"Good-night, brother;" and, embracing them both, Martial departed.
+
+"What is the matter, Francois? you look so sad!" said Amandine.
+
+"Brother has taken my handkerchief; and, besides, did you not hear?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"He wants to make us apprentices."
+
+"Are you not glad?"
+
+"Faith, no!"
+
+"You would rather remain here, and be beaten every day?"
+
+"I am beaten; but I don't have to work. I am all day in the boat, or
+fishing or playing, or serving the company, who sometimes give me
+something for drink, as the lame man did; it is much more amusing than
+to be shut up from morning till night in a shop, to work like a dog."
+
+"But did you not hear brother say, if we remained here any longer we
+would become bad?"
+
+"All the same to me, since other children call us already little
+thieves. Work is too tiresome."
+
+"But here they always beat us!"
+
+"They beat us because we listen more to Martial than to them."
+
+"He is so good to us."
+
+"He is good, he is good, I do not deny; so I love him well. They do
+not dare to harm us before him. He takes us out to walk, it is truer
+but that is all; he never gives us anything."
+
+"Brother, he has nothing; what he earns he gives to our mother for
+board."
+
+"Nicholas has something. I am sure that if we were to listen to him
+and mother, he would not treat us so; he would give us fine things,
+like to-day; he would no longer suspect us; we should have money, like
+Tortillard."
+
+"But we should have to steal, and that would cause brother Martial so
+much sorrow!"
+
+"Can't help that!"
+
+"Oh, Francois! Besides, if they caught us, we should go to prison."
+
+"In prison, or shut up all day in a shop, is the same thing. Besides,
+the lame man said they amused them--selves so much in prison."
+
+"But the sorrow we would cause to Martial--don't you think of that? It
+is on our account he came back here, and now remains; alone, he could
+easily get along: he could return and poach in the woods he likes so
+well."
+
+"Well! let him take us in the woods with him," said Francois: "that
+would be best of all; I would be with him I love so much, and I should
+not have to work at a trade I cannot bear."
+
+The conversation of Francois and Amandine was interrupted. Their door
+locked on the outside with a double turn.
+
+"We are shut up!" cried Francois.
+
+"Oh! what for, brother? What are they going to do with us?"
+
+"Perhaps it is Martial."
+
+"Listen, listen, his dog barks!" said Amandine.
+
+"It sounds to me as if they were hammering something," said Francois;
+"perhaps they are trying to break open Martial's door!"
+
+"Yes, yes, his dog barks all the time."
+
+"Listen, Francois! now it sounds like driving nails. Oh, dear, I am
+afraid. What could brother have done? now hear how his dog howls!"
+
+"Amandine, I hear nothing now," said Francois, approaching the door.
+
+The two children, holding their breath, listened with anxiety.
+
+"Now they return," said Francois, in a low tone, "I hear them walking
+in the corridor."
+
+"Let us jump into bed; mother would kill us if she found us up," said
+Amandine.
+
+"No!" answered Francois, still listening: "they have just passed our
+door; they are running downstairs; now they open the kitchen door."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Yes, yes; I know the noise it makes."
+
+"Martial's dog keeps on howling," said Amandine; then suddenly she
+cried, "Francois, brother calls us."
+
+"Martial?"
+
+"Yes, don't you hear him?" And, notwithstanding the thickness of the
+two closed doors, the stentorian voice of Martial, calling to the
+children, could be heard. "We cannot go to him--we are locked up,"
+said Amandine: "they wish to do him some harm, for he calls to us."
+
+"Oh, if I could," cried Francois, resolutely, "I would prevent them,
+if they were to cut me to pieces! But brother does not know that we
+are locked up; he will think that we will not help him."
+
+"Call to him, Francois, that we are shut up."
+
+He was about to follow the advice of his sister, when a violent blow
+shook the blind on the outside of the little window of their room.
+
+"They are coming that way to kill us!" cried Amandine, and, in her
+fright, she threw herself on the bed, and covered her face with her
+hands.
+
+Francois remained immovable, although he partook of the alarm of his
+sister. Yet, after the violent blow of which we have spoken, the blind
+was not opened; the most profound silence reigned throughout the
+house.
+
+Martial had ceased to call the children.
+
+Somewhat recovered and excited by deep curiosity, Francois ventured to
+half open the window, and tried to see without through the slats of
+the blinds.
+
+"Take care, brother," whispered Amandine, who, hearing Francois open
+the window had partly raised herself up. "Do you see anything?"
+
+"No; the night is too dark."
+
+"Do you hear nothing?"
+
+"No; the wind blows too hard."
+
+"Come back, come back then!"
+
+"Ah! now I see something."
+
+"What?"
+
+"The light of a lantern; it comes and goes."
+
+"Who carries it?"
+
+"I only see the light."
+
+"Oh! now it comes nearer; some one speaks."
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"Listen, listen! it is Calabash."
+
+"What does she say?"
+
+"She tells them to hold the foot of the ladder steady."
+
+"Oh! do you see, it was in taking away the long ladder which was
+against our window that they made such a noise just now."
+
+"I hear nothing more."
+
+"What are they doing with the ladder now?"
+
+"I can't see anything more."
+
+"Do you hear nothing?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh, Francois, it is, perhaps, to get into brother Martial's room by
+the window that they have taken the ladder?"
+
+"That may be."
+
+"If you would open the shutter a little to see--"
+
+"I dare not."
+
+"Only a little."
+
+"Oh! no, no. If mother should see it--"
+
+"It is so dark there is no danger."
+
+Francois, yielding to the entreaties of his sister, opened the blinds
+and looked out.
+
+"Well, brother?" said Amandine, overcoming her fears, and approaching
+Francois on tiptoe.
+
+"By the light of the lantern," said he; "I see Calabash holding the
+foot of the ladder, placed against Martial's window."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Nicholas goes up the ladder; he has his hatchet in his hands; I see
+it shine."
+
+"Hullo, you are not gone to bed! you are spying us!" cried the widow
+suddenly, calling to Francois and his sister. Just as she was going
+into the kitchen she saw the light from the half-opened window. The
+unfortunate children had neglected to extinguish their light. "I am
+coming up," added the widow, in a terrible voice; "I am coining to
+you, little spies."
+
+Such are the events which took place at the Ravageur's Island, the
+evening before Mrs. Seraphin was to conduct thither Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+FURNISHED ROOMS.
+
+
+Brasserie passage, a dark and gloomy passage, but little known,
+although situated in the center of Paris, extended on one side from
+the Rue Traversiere Saint Honore to the Cour Saint Guillaume on the
+other. About the middle of this wet, muddy, dark, and gloomy street,
+where the sun scarcely ever penetrates, stood a furnished house.
+
+On a rascally-looking sign was to be seen, "_Furnished Rooms_;"
+on the right of an obscure alley opened the door of a shop not less
+obscure, where the proprietor was generally to be found. This man,
+whose name has been several times mentioned on Ravageur's Island, was
+Micou; openly a seller of old iron; but secretly he bought and sold
+stolen metal, such as iron, lead, copper, and tin. To say that Micou
+was in business and friendly relations with the Martials, is
+sufficiently to appreciate his morality.
+
+Micou was a corpulent man of about fifty years of age, with a low,
+cunning look, a pimply nose, and bloated cheeks; he wore an otter-skin
+cap, and was wrapped up in an old green garrick. Over the little iron
+stove near which he was warming himself, a board with numbers painted
+on it was nailed against the wall; there were suspended the keys of
+the rooms whose lodgers were absent. The window looking into the
+street was soaped in such a manner that those without could not see
+what was going on within the shop; this window was heavily barred with
+iron. Throughout this large shop reigned great obscurity: on the damp
+and blackish walls were suspended rusty chains of all sorts and sizes;
+the floor was nearly covered with fragments and clippings of iron and
+lead. Three peculiar knocks at the door attracted the attention of
+Micou.
+
+"Come in!" cried he, and Nicholas appeared. He was very pale; his face
+seemed still more sinister-looking than the evening previous, and yet
+it will be seen he feigned a kind of noisy gayety during the following
+conversation. This scene took place the morning after his quarrel with
+his brother Martial.
+
+"Oh! here you are, good fellow!" said the lodging-house keeper,
+cordially.
+
+"Yes, Daddy Micou; I come to have some business with you."
+
+"Shut the door."
+
+"My dog and little cart are there--with the swag."
+
+"What do you bring me? folded tripe (stolen sheet-lead)?"
+
+"No, Micou."
+
+"It is not dredge, you are too cunning now; you are no longer a
+_ravageur_; perhaps it is iron?"
+
+"No, Micou; it is copper. There must be at least one hundred and fifty
+pounds; my dog has as much as he can draw."
+
+"Go and bring the stuff; we will weigh it."
+
+"You must help me, Micou; I have a lame arm."
+
+"What is the matter with your arm?"
+
+"Nothing--a bruise."
+
+"You must make some iron red hot, put it into some water, and bathe
+your arm in this almost boiling water; it is a dealer-in-old-iron's
+remedy, but it is excellent."
+
+"Thank you, Daddy Micou."
+
+"Come, let us bring in the metal: I will help you, lazybones!"
+
+The copper was then brought in from a little cart drawn by an enormous
+dog, and placed in the shop.
+
+"That barrow is a good idea," said Micou, adjusting the scales.
+
+"Yes; when I have anything to bring, I put my dog and cart into my
+boat, and I harness him when I land. A jarvey might blab: my dog
+can't."
+
+"All well at home?" demanded the receiver, weighing the copper: "your
+mother and sister are in good health?"
+
+"Yes, Micou."
+
+"The children also?"
+
+"The children also."
+
+"And your nephew Andre, where is he?"
+
+"Don't speak of it! he was in luck yesterday. Barbillon and the Big
+Cripple took him away; he only came back this morning; he is already
+gone on an errand to the post-office, Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau."
+
+"And your brother Martial, is still savage?"
+
+"I do not know anything about him."
+
+"You don't know anything about him?"
+
+"No," said Nicholas, affecting an indifferent manner; "for two days we
+have not seen him; perhaps he has returned to his old trade of a
+poacher--unless his boat, which was very old, has sunk in the river,
+and he with--"
+
+"That don't give you much concern, good-for-nothing, for you can't
+feel it much!"
+
+"It is true, one has his own ideas. How many pounds of copper are
+there?"
+
+"You made a good guess--one hundred and forty-eight pounds, my boy."
+
+"And you will owe me--"
+
+"Exactly thirty francs."
+
+"Thirty francs, when copper is a franc a pound? Thirty francs!"
+
+"We will say thirty-five, and don't turn up your nose, or I will send
+you to the devil--you, copper, dog and cart."
+
+"But, Micou you cheat me too much! there's no sense in it."
+
+"Prove to me this copper belongs to you, and I will give you fifteen
+sous a pound for it."
+
+"Always the same song. You are all alike; get out, you nest of
+thieves! Can one gouge a friend in such style? But this is not all. If
+I take your merchandise in exchange, you should give me good measure
+at least!"
+
+"Just so! What do you want? chains or hooks for your boat?"
+
+"No; I want four or five iron plates, very strong, such as would
+answer to line window-shutters with."
+
+"I have just what you want--the third of an inch thick; a pistol ball
+could not go through."
+
+"Just the thing!"
+
+"What size?"
+
+"In all, seven or eight feet square."
+
+"Good! what else do you want?"
+
+"Three iron bars, three to four feet long, and two inches square."
+
+"I tore down the other day some grating from a window; that will suit
+you like a glove. What next?"
+
+"Two strong hinges and a latch; to fix and shut at will, a wicket two
+feet square."
+
+"A trap, you mean to say?"
+
+"No; a wicket."
+
+"I cannot comprehend what you can want with it?"
+
+"That is possible, but I can."
+
+"Very well, you have only to choose; there are the hinges. What else
+do you need?"
+
+"That's all."
+
+"It is not much."
+
+"Get my goods ready at once, Daddy Micou, I will take them as I pass;
+I have some more errands to do."
+
+"With your cart? I say, I saw a bale of goods in the bottom; is it
+something more that you have taken from everybody's cupboard, little
+glutton?"
+
+"As you say, Daddy Micou: but you don't eat this; don't make me wait
+for my iron, for I must be back to the island by twelve o'clock."
+
+"Don't be uneasy, it is eight o'clock; if you are not going far, in an
+hour you can return, all will be ready, Will you take a drop?"
+
+"To be sure; you can well afford to pay it!"
+
+Daddy Micou took out of an old chest a bottle of brandy, a cracked
+glass, a cup without a handle, and poured out the liquor.
+
+"Your health, old 'un!"
+
+"Yours, my boy, and the ladies' at home!"
+
+"Thank you; and your lodgings come on well?"
+
+"So, so. I have always some lodgers for whom I fear the visits of the
+grabs; but they pay more in consequence."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"How stupid you are! Sometimes I lodge as I buy; to such I no more ask
+for their passports than I ask you for an invoice."
+
+"Understood! but to those you let as dear as you buy of me cheap."
+
+"Must take care of one's self. I have a cousin who keeps a fine hotel
+in the Rue Saint Honore, while his wife is a mantua-maker, who employs
+as many as twenty assistants, either at her shop, or at their own
+homes."
+
+"Say now, old obstinacy, there must be some pretty ones there?"
+
+"I guess so! there are two or three that I have seen sometimes
+bringing in their work. Crimini! ain't they nice! One little puss, who
+works at home, always laughing, called Rigolette. Oh, my lark! what a
+pity I ain't twenty!"
+
+"Come, come, papa, put yourself out, or I'll cry fire!"
+
+"But she is virtuous, my boy; she is virtuous."
+
+"Get out! and you say that your cousin--"
+
+"Keeps a very good house, and, as she is of the same number as little
+Rigolette--"
+
+"Virtuous?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Over!"
+
+"She will not have lodgers without passports or papers; but if any
+present themselves, knowing I am not very particular, she sends them
+to me."
+
+"And they pay in consequence?"
+
+"Always."
+
+"But are they all friends of the family, those who have no papers?"
+
+"No. Ah, now, speaking of that, my cousin sent me, a few days ago, a
+customer. May the devil burn me, if I can understand it! Come, another
+turn?"
+
+"Agreed; the liquor is good. Your health, Micou!"
+
+"Yours, lad! I say, then, that the other day my cousin sent me a
+customer whom I cannot make out. Just imagine a mother and her
+daughter, who had a very seedy look, it is true; they carried their
+luggage in a handkerchief. Well, although they must, of course, be
+nobody, since they had no papers, and they lodge by the fortnight;
+since they have been here they do not stir out; no one comes to see
+them, my pal--no one! and yet, if they were not so thin and so pale,
+they'd be two fine women, the little one above all. She is not more
+than fifteen at least; she is as white as a white rabbit, with large
+black eyes--large as that! What eyes! what eyes!"
+
+"You'll get on fire again; I'll call the engines! What do these women
+do for a living?"
+
+"I tell you I comprehend nothing about it; they must be virtuous, and
+yet no papers; without counting that they receive letters without
+address, their name must be bad to write."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"They sent, this morning, my nephew Andre to the office of the letters
+to be called for, to reclaim a letter addressed to Madame X. Z. The
+letter was to come from Normandy, from a place called Aubiers. They
+wrote that on a piece of paper, so that Andre might get the letter.
+You see they can be no great things, women who take the name of X and
+a Z."
+
+"They will never pay you."
+
+"It is not for an old ape like me to learn to make faces. They have
+taken a room without a fireplace, for which I make them pay twenty
+francs a fortnight, and in advance. They are, perhaps, sick; for two
+days they have not come down. It certainly is not from indigestion;
+for I do not think they have cooked anything since they have been
+here."
+
+"If you had only such lodgers as they, Micou--"
+
+"That comes and goes. If I lodge people without passports, I lodge
+great folks also; I have at this moment two traveling clerks, a
+post-office carrier, the leader of the orchestra of the Cafe des Aveugles,
+and an independent lady, all very genteel people. They save the
+reputation of the house, if the police wish to examine too closely;
+they are not lodgers by night, not they; they are lodgers in the full
+light of the sun."
+
+"Whenever it shines in your passage, Daddy--"
+
+"Joker, one more turn."
+
+"And the last, for I must take my hook. By-the-bye, does Robin, the
+big lame man, lodge here yet?"
+
+"Upstairs, next door to the mother and daughter. He has consumed all
+his prison money, and I believe he has none left."
+
+"I say, look out; he's broke his ticket-of-leave."
+
+"I know it well; but I can't get rid of him. I believe he is after
+something. Little Tortillard, the son of Bras-Rouge, came here the
+other night with Barbillon, to look for him. I am afraid he will do
+some harm to my good lodgers that damnable Robin. As soon as his term
+is up, I shall put him out, telling him his room is engaged by an
+embassador, or by the husband of Madame de Saint Ildefonso?"
+
+"The lady?"
+
+"I should think so! Three rooms and a cabinet on the front, nearly
+furnished, without counting a garret for her female servant, eighty
+francs a month, and paid in advance by her uncle, to whom she gives
+one of her rooms as a stopping-place when he comes from the country.
+After all, I believe his country house is the Rue Vivienne, Rue Saint
+Honore, or in the environs of those places."
+
+"Understood! she is an independent lady, because the old one pays her
+rent."
+
+"Hush, here is her maid."
+
+A woman rather advanced in life, wearing a white apron of doubtful
+purity, entered the shop. "What can I do for you, Madame Charles?"
+
+"Daddy Micou, your nephew is not here?"
+
+"He has gone on an errand to the post-office; he will soon return."
+
+"M. Badinot wishes he would take this letter to its address; there is
+no answer, but it is very urgent."
+
+"In a quarter of an hour it shall be on the way."
+
+"Let him hurry."
+
+"Be easy." The maid retired.
+
+"That's the servant of one of your lodgers, Micou?"
+
+"Madame Saint Ildefonso's. But M. Badinot is her uncle; he came
+yesterday from the country, "answered Micou. "But see, now, what fine
+acquaintances they have! I told you they were people of style; he
+writes to a viscount."
+
+"No!"
+
+"Well, look: 'To his Lordship the Viscount of Saint Remy, Rue de
+Chaillot. Haste, haste! (_Private_).' I hope that when one lodges
+people who have uncles who write to viscounts, one can very well
+overlook a poor devil in the fourth story who has no passport!"
+
+"I think so. Well, good-bye for the present, Micou; I am going to
+fasten my dog and cart to your door; I will carry what I have to carry
+myself. Have my goods and money ready on my return."
+
+"All shall be ready. But, I say, before you go I must tell you, since
+you have been here, I have watched you."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I don't know, but you seem to have something the matter with you."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You are a fool. I am hungry."
+
+"Hungry! it is possible, but I should say that you wish to appear
+lively, but at the bottom there is something that bites and pinches
+you--conscience, as they say; and to trouble you it must bite hard,
+for you are no prude."
+
+"I tell you, you are crazy, Micou," said Nicholas, shuddering in spite
+of himself.
+
+"One would say that you tremble."
+
+"My arm pains me."
+
+"Then don't forget my recipe: it will cure you."
+
+"Thank you, Father Micou. Good-bye," said Nicholas, taking his
+departure.
+
+The receiver, after having concealed the copper, busied himself in
+collecting the different articles for Nicholas, when a new personage
+entered the shop. He was a man of about fifty, with a knowing face,
+heavy gray whiskers, and gold spectacles; he was dressed with some
+care; the large sleeves of his brown paletot, with velvet cuffs,
+displayed his straw-colored gloves; his boots undoubtedly the evening
+previous had been brilliantly polished.
+
+Such was M. Badinot, the uncle of Madame de Saint Ildefonso, whose
+social position was the pride and security of Micou the Fence.
+
+Badinot, formerly a lawyer, but struck off the rolls, and now a
+chevalier d'industrie, and agent of equivocal affairs, served as a spy
+for the Baron de Graün (Rudolph's friend), and gave the diplomatist a
+great deal of information concerning several characters of this
+narration.
+
+"Madame Charles has just given you a letter?" said Badinot to the
+receiver.
+
+"Yes, sir; my nephew will soon return; in a moment he will be off
+again."
+
+"No, give me the letter; I have changed my mind; I will go myself to
+the Viscount de Saint Remy," said Badinot, emphasizing purposely the
+aristocratic address.
+
+"Here is the letter, sir; have you no other commission?"
+
+"No, friend Micou," said Badinot, with a patronizing air; "but I have
+reproaches to make to you."
+
+"To me, sir?"
+
+"Very grave reproaches."
+
+"How, sir?"
+
+"Certainly Madame de Saint Ildefonso pays very dear for your first
+floor. My niece is one of those lodgers to whom one should pay the
+greatest respect; she came with confidence to this house, disliking
+the noise of the large streets; she hoped she would be here as in the
+country."
+
+"And she is; just like a village. You ought to find it so, sir, who
+live in the country--it is just like a real village here."
+
+"A village? Very fine--always the most infernal noise."
+
+"Yet it is impossible to find a more quiet house. Over madame, there
+is the leader of the orchestra of the Cafe des Aveugles and a
+traveling clerk; over them another clerk; over him again, there is--"
+
+"It is not of these persons I complain; they are very quiet; my niece
+finds no inconvenience from them; but in the fourth story there is a
+lame man, whom Madame de Saint Ildefonso met yesterday drunk on the
+staircase; he uttered horrible, savage cries; she almost fainted, she
+was so much alarmed. If you think with such occupants your house
+resembles a village--"
+
+"I swear to you, sir, that I only wait an opportunity to put this lame
+man out of doors; he has paid me his term in advance, otherwise he
+would have been already shown how to get out."
+
+"You should not have taken him for a lodger."
+
+"But I hope madame has no other cause of complaint? There is a
+postman, who is the very cream of honest people! and over him,
+alongside of the lame man, a woman and her daughter, who keep as close
+as mice."
+
+"I repeat, Madame de Saint Iledefonso only complains of the lame man;
+he is the nightmare of the whole house, that knave! and I warn you, if
+you keep him, he will cause all the respectable people to leave."
+
+"I will send him off, be assured--I do not hold to him."
+
+"And you will do well, for they will not remain."
+
+"Which would not answer my purpose. So, sir, you may regard the lame
+man as off, for he only has four days to remain here."
+
+"That is too many; however, it is your business. At the very first
+insult my niece leaves the house."
+
+"Be assured."
+
+"All this is for your interest; profit by it, for I only speak once,"
+said Badinot, in a patronizing manner, as he left the shop.
+
+Is it not needless for us to say that this woman and girl who lived so
+solitary, were victims of the cupidity of the notary? We will conduct
+the reader into the miserable room they occupied.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE VICTIMS OF AN ABUSE OF TRUST.
+
+
+Let the reader imagine a closet situated on the fourth story of the
+house. A pale, gloomy light hardly penetrated this narrow apartment,
+through a little window of cracked, dirty glass, with a single
+shutter; a yellowish, dilapidated paper covered the walls; from the
+broken ceiling hung long spider-webs. The floor, broken in several
+places, showed the beams and laths of the room below. A deal table, a
+chair, an old trunk without a lock, and a flock bed with coarse sheets
+and an old woolen covering--such was the furniture. On the chair was
+seated the Baroness de Fermont. In the bed reposed Claire de Fermont
+(such were the names of the two victims of Jacques Ferrand).
+
+Possessing but one narrow bed, the mother and daughter slept by turns,
+dividing thus the hours of the night. The mother had too much anguish,
+too many inquietudes, to get much repose; but the daughter found some
+moments of rest and forgetfulness.
+
+She was now asleep. Nothing could be more touching, more sorrowful,
+than the sight of this misery, imposed by the cupidity of the notary
+on two women, until then accustomed to the sweet enjoyments of a life
+of ease, and surrounded in their native town with that consideration
+which an honorable and honored family always inspire.
+
+The Baroness de Fermont was about thirty-six years of age; her
+countenance at once expresses mildness and excellence; her features,
+formerly of remarkable beauty, are now sadly changed; her black hair,
+divided on her forehead and confined behind her head, already shows
+some tresses of silver. Clothed in a dress of mourning, tattered in
+several places, the Baroness de Fermont, with her hand supporting her
+head, leaned against the wretched bed of her child, and regarded her
+with inexpressible anguish.
+
+Claire was only sixteen; her complexion had lost its dazzling purity;
+her beautiful dark eyelashes reached to her hollow cheeks. Once humid
+and rosy, but now dry and pale, her lips, half-opened, displayed the
+enamel of her teeth; the rude contact of the bedclothes had given a
+red appearance in several places to the delicate neck, arms, and
+shoulders of the young girl. From time to time a slight shudder passed
+over her, as if she had some painful dream. For a long period the
+Baroness de Fermont had not wept; she looked on her daughter with a
+dry and inflamed eye, consumed by a slow fever, which was undermining
+her. Each day she found herself weaker; but fearing to alarm Claire,
+and not willing, we may say, to alarm herself, she struggled with all
+her strength against the first symptoms of her sickness. Through
+motives of similar generosity, the daughter endeavored to conceal her
+sufferings. These two unhappy creatures, afflicted with the same
+griefs, were yet to be afflicted with the same disease.
+
+In misfortunes there are often moments when the future prospect is so
+frightful, that the most energetic minds dare not look it in the face,
+but shut their eyes, and endeavor to deceive themselves by mad
+illusions. Such was the position of the Fermonts. To express the
+tortures of this woman, during the long hours when she was thus
+contemplating her sleeping child, thinking of the past, the present,
+and the future, would be to describe what, in the holy and sacred
+griefs of a mother, there is the most poignant, the most desperate,
+the most insane; enchanting recollections, sinister fears, terrible
+foresights, bitter regrets, extreme dejectedness, ejaculations of
+powerless rage against the author of so much misery, vain
+supplications, violent prayers, and, finally, frightful doubts of the
+all-powerful justice of Him who remains inexorable to this cry,
+dragged from the bottom of the maternal heart--to this sacred cry, of
+which the echo ought to reach Heaven, "Pity for my child!"
+
+"How cold she is now!" said the poor mother, touching lightly the icy
+hand and arm of her daughter. "She is very cold; one hour ago she was
+burning; it is fever; happily, she does not know she has it. How cold
+she is! this covering is so thin! I would put my old shawl on the bed;
+but if I take it from the door, where I have hung it, some of those
+drunken men will come and look through the cracks, as they did
+yesterday. What a horrible house! If I had known what kind of place it
+was before I paid in advance, we should not have stayed here; but I
+did not know--when one has no papers--could I think that I should ever
+have need of a passport? When I left Angers in my own carriage, could
+I have thought--but this infamous--because the notary has pleased to
+rob me, I am reduced to the most frightful extremity, and against him
+I can do nothing. Oh, the notary, he does not know the frightful
+consequences of his robbery!
+
+"Alas! yes, I never dare tell my child my fears--not to grieve her;
+but I suffer; I have fever; I can hardly sustain myself; I feel within
+me the germs of a malady--dangerous, perhaps--my bosom is on fire; my
+heart throbs. Oh, if I should fall sick--if I should die! No, no! I
+will not--I cannot die--leave Claire--alone, abandoned in Paris--can
+it be possible? No! I am not sick, after all--what do I feel? A little
+heat, a heaviness about the head, caused, no doubt, from my
+uneasiness--from cold--oh, it is nothing serious!
+
+"Come, come, no more of such weakness. It is by cherishing such ideas,
+it is in listening thus, that one falls really sick. And I have the
+time, truly! Must I not occupy myself in finding some work for Claire
+and myself, since this man, who gave us engravings to color--"
+
+Then, after a pause, she added, with indignation, "Oh! this is
+abominable, to offer this work at the price of Claire's--to take from
+us this miserable means of existence, because I would not allow my
+child to go and work at his rooms! Perhaps we may find work elsewhere;
+but when one knows nobody, it is so difficult! When one is so
+miserably lodged they inspire no confidence; and yet, the small sum
+that remains once gone, what shall we do? what will become of us?
+
+"If the laws leave this crime unpunished, I will not--for, if fate
+pushes me to the end--if I do not find the means to emerge from the
+atrocious position in which this wretch has placed me and my child, I
+do not know what I shall do--I shall be capable of killing him--I--
+this man--then they can do what they will with me. Yes--but my child?
+my child?
+
+"To leave her alone, abandoned--ah! no, I do not wish to die! for
+this, I cannot kill this man. What would become of her? She, at
+sixteen--she is young, and pure as an angel; but she is handsome--but
+misery, hunger, abandonment--what may they not cause? and then--and
+then--into what abyss may she not fall?
+
+"Oh! it is frightful--poverty! frightful enough for any one; but
+perhaps more so for those who have always lived in opulence. I cannot
+beg--I must absolutely see my child starve before I can beg! What a
+coward--yet--"
+
+Two or three violent knocks at the door made her tremble, and awoke
+her daughter with a start.
+
+"Mamma, what is that?" cried Claire, sitting up in bed; then, throwing
+her arms around her mother's neck, who, very much alarmed, pressed her
+child to her bosom, "Mamma, what is it?" repeated Claire.
+
+"I do not know, my child; but do not be afraid, it is nothing: some
+one knocked; it is, perhaps, the letter we expect."
+
+At this moment the worm-eaten door shook again, under repeated blows
+with the fist.
+
+"Who is there?" said Madame de Fermont in a trembling voice.
+
+A coarse, rough voice answered, "Are you deaf, neighbors?"
+
+"What do you want? I do not know you," said Madame de Fermont, trying
+to conceal the agitation of her voice.
+
+"I am Robin, your neighbor; give me some fire to light my pipe: come,
+make haste!"
+
+"It is that lame man, who is always drunk," said the mother to her
+child.
+
+"Are you going to give me any fire! or I'll break all open, in the
+name of thunder?"
+
+"Sir, I have no fire."
+
+"You must have some matches, then; everybody has them; do you open--
+come?"
+
+"Sir, go away."
+
+"You won't open?--one, two--"
+
+"I beg you to go away, or I will call."
+
+"Once--twice--three times--no, you won't! Then I'll break all down,
+then."
+
+And the wretch gave such a furious kick against the door, he burst it
+in, the miserable lock breaking at the first assault. The two women
+screamed with alarm. Madame de Fermont, notwithstanding her weakness,
+threw herself before the rough, and barred his entrance.
+
+"This is outrageous: you shall not come in," cried the unhappy mother;
+"I shall cry for help."
+
+"For what--for what?" answered he: "mustn't we be neighborly? If you
+had opened, I should not have broken in."
+
+Then, with the stupid obstinacy of drunkenness, he added staggering,
+"I wish to come in; I will come in, and I will not go out until I
+light my pipe."
+
+"I have neither fire nor matches. In the name of heaven, sir, retire."
+
+"It's not true; you say that so I sha'n't see the little one in bed.
+Yesterday you stopped up all the holes in the door. She is pretty; I
+want to see her. Take care of yourself; I'll scratch your face if you
+don't let me come in. I tell you that I will see the little one in
+bed, and I will light my pipe, or I'll smash everything, and you along
+with it!"
+
+"Help! help!" cried Madame de Fermont, who felt the door giving way
+under the violent push of the lame man.
+
+Intimidated by the cries, the man stepped backward and shook his fist
+at Madame de Fermont, saying, "You shall pay me for this; I will
+return to-night--I'll catch hold of your tongue, and you cannot cry."
+
+And the Big Cripple, as they called him at Ravageurs' Island,
+descended the stairs, uttering horrible oaths. Madame de Fermont,
+fearing that he might return, and seeing the lock broken, drew the
+table against the door to barricade it. Claire had been so alarmed at
+this horrible scene that she had fallen on her cot almost without
+emotion, with a violent attack of the nerves. Madame de Fermont,
+forgetting her own alarm, ran to her daughter, pressed her in her
+arms, made her drink a little water, and, with the most tender
+caresses, succeeded in calming her.
+
+"Be composed, my poor child--the bad man has gone away." Then the
+wretched mother cried, with a touching accent, "Yet it is this notary
+who is the cause of all our troubles. Compose yourself, my child,"
+resumed she, tenderly embracing her daughter; "this wretch is gone."
+
+"Oh, mamma, if he should come back again? You see you have called for
+help, and no one has come. Oh! I entreat you; let us leave this house.
+I shall die here with fear."
+
+"How you tremble! you have a fever!"
+
+"No, no," said the young girl, to pacify her mother; "it is nothing;
+it is fright; it will pass over; and you, how are you? Give me your
+hands. How burning hot they are! Ah! you are suffering; you wish to
+conceal it from me."
+
+"Do not think so: I am better than ever; it is the emotion which this
+man has caused me which makes me thus. I slept on the chair very
+soundly; I only awoke when you did."
+
+"Yet, mamma, your poor eyes are very red, much inflamed!"
+
+"Ah! well, my child, on a chair sleep is not so refreshing, you know!"
+
+"Really, do you not suffer?"
+
+"No, no, I assure you; and you?"
+
+"Nor I; only I tremble still from fear. I entreat you, mamma, let us
+leave this house."
+
+"And where shall we go to? You know with how much trouble we found
+this wretched place; and, besides, we have paid two weeks in advance;
+they will not return us our money; and we have so little left--so
+little, that we should manage as closely as possible."
+
+"Perhaps some day M. de Saint Remy will answer your letter."
+
+"I no longer hope it; it is so long since I have written."
+
+"He might not have received your letter: why do you not write him
+again? From hence to Angers is not so far; we shall soon have an
+answer."
+
+"My poor child, you know how much this has cost me already."
+
+"What do you risk? he is so good, notwithstanding his roughness. Was
+he not one of my father's old friends, and, besides, he is our
+relation."
+
+"But he is poor himself; his fortune is very small. Perhaps he does
+not reply, to avoid the mortification of being obliged to refuse us."
+
+"But if he has not received your letter, mamma?"
+
+"And if he has received it, my child; of two things choose one: either
+he is in such a situation that he cannot come to our aid, or he feels
+no interest for us; then why expose ourselves to a refusal or a
+humiliation?"
+
+"Come, courage, mamma, we have one hope left. Perhaps this morning
+will bring us a happy answer."
+
+"From Lord d'Orbigny?"
+
+"Without doubt. This letter, of which you formerly made a draught, was
+so simple, so touching--exposed so naturally our misfortunes, that he
+will have pity on us. Really, I do not know what tells me you are
+wrong to despair of assistance."
+
+"He has so little reason to interest himself about us: he had, it is
+true, formerly known your father, and I had often heard my brother
+speak of Lord d'Orbigny as of a man with whom he had been on friendly
+terms before he left Paris with his young wife."
+
+"It is just on that account that I have hopes; he has a young wife,
+she will be compassionate; and, besides, in the country one can do so
+much good. He will take you, I suppose, for housekeeper; I will take
+care of the linen. Since Lord d'Orbigny is very rich, in a large house
+there is always employment."
+
+"Yes; but we have so little right to his interest. We are so
+unfortunate."
+
+"That is frequently a title in the eyes of charitable people. Let us
+hope that Lord d'Orbigny and his wife are so."
+
+"Well, in case we need expect nothing from him, I will overcome my
+false shame, and will write to the Duchess de Lucenay--this lady of
+whom M. de Saint Remy spoke so often, whose generosity and good heart
+he so often praised. Yes, the daughter of the Prince de Noirmont. He
+knew her when she was very small, and he treated her almost as his
+child, for he was intimately connected with the prince. Madame de
+Lucenay must have many-acquaintances; she could, perhaps, find us a
+place."
+
+"Doubtless, mamma, but I understand your reserve; you do not know her
+at all, while my poor father and uncle knew Lord d'Orbigny a little."
+
+"Finally, in the case that Madame d'Orbigny can do nothing for us, I
+will have recourse to a last resource."
+
+"What is it, mamma?"
+
+"It is a very weak one--a very foolish hope, perhaps; but why not try
+it? the son of M. de Saint Remy is---"
+
+"M. de Saint Remy has a son!" cried Claire, with astonishment.
+
+"Yes, my child, he has a son."
+
+"He never spoke of him--he never came to Angers."
+
+"True, for reasons you cannot know. M. de Saint Remy, having left
+Paris fifteen years ago, has not seen his son since."
+
+"Fifteen years without seeing his father! can it be possible?"
+
+"Alas! yes, you see. I tell you that the son of M. de Saint Remy,
+being well known in the fashionable world, and very rich--"
+
+"Very rich! and his father is poor?"
+
+"All the fortune of M. de Saint Remy, the son, came from his mother."
+
+"But no matter; how can he leave his father--"
+
+"His father would accept nothing from him."
+
+"Why is that?"
+
+"This is once more a question to which I cannot reply, my dear child;
+but I heard my poor brother say that the generosity of this young man
+was generally praised. Young and generous, he ought to be good. Thus,
+learning from me that my husband was the intimate friend of his
+father, perhaps he might interest himself in procuring us some work or
+employment; he has so many brilliant and numerous relations, that this
+would be easy."
+
+"And then we could find out from him, perhaps, if M. de Saint Remy,
+his father, should have left Angers before you wrote to him; that
+would explain his silence."
+
+"I believe that M. de Saint Remy, my child, has no intercourse with
+his father. In fine, it is only to try."
+
+"Unless M. d'Orbigny should answer you in a favorable manner; and I
+repeat it, I do not know why, but, in spite of myself, I have hope."
+
+"But already many days have elapsed, my child, since I have written,
+and nothing--nothing yet. A letter put in the office before four
+o'clock in the afternoon, arrives the next morning at Aubiere; five
+days have now passed since we might have received an answer."
+
+"Perhaps he is thinking, before he writes, in what way he can be
+useful to us."
+
+"God hear you, my child!"
+
+"It appears very plain to me, mamma, if he could do nothing for us, he
+would have informed you at once."
+
+"Unless he will do nothing at all."
+
+"Ah, mamma, can it be possible? not deign to answer us, and leave us
+to hope four days, eight days perhaps--for when one is unfortunate
+they hope always."
+
+"Alas! my child, there is sometimes so much indifference for the woes
+which one does not know!"
+
+"But your letter."
+
+"My letter cannot give him an idea of our troubles, of our sufferings
+of each moment. Can my letter picture to him our unfortunate life, our
+humiliations of every description, our existence in this frightful
+house, the alarm we have experienced even just now? Can my letter
+describe to him the horrible future which awaits us, if--but stop, my
+child, do not let us speak of this. Mon Dieu! you tremble--you are
+cold."
+
+"No, mamma; pay no attention to it; but tell me, suppose everything
+fails, that the little money which remains in that trunk is spent, can
+it be possible that in a rich place like Paris we should both die of
+hunger and misery, for want of work, and because a bad man has taken
+what you had?"
+
+"Hush, poor child."
+
+"But, mamma, could It be?"
+
+"Alas!"
+
+"But God, who knows all, who can do all, how could He abandon us, He
+whom we have not offended?"
+
+"I entreat you, my child, do not have such gloomy ideas; I would
+rather see you hope, even against hope. Come, rouse me up with your
+dear illusions; but I am but too apt to be discouraged, you know
+well."
+
+"Yes, yes; let us hope; it is better. The nephew of the porter will
+soon return from the post-office with a letter. One more errand to pay
+from your little treasure, and through my fault. If I had not been so
+feeble to-day and yesterday, we could have gone ourselves, as we did
+before, but you would not leave me alone here to go yourself."
+
+"Could I, my child? Judge then, just now this wretch who broke in the
+door, if you had been alone."
+
+"Oh! mamma, hush; only to think of it makes me shudder."
+
+At this moment some one knocked sharply at the door.
+
+"Heavens, it is he," cried Madame de Fermont, and she pushed with all
+her strength the table against the door. Her fears, however, ceased
+when she heard the voice of Micou.
+
+"Madame, my nephew, Andre, has come from the post-office. It is a
+letter with an X and a Z for address; it comes from a distance. There
+are eight sous postage and the commission--it is 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 shall suffer no more, no
+longer be uneasy about me; you shall be happy. God is just--God is
+good!" cried the young girl, and a ray of hope lighted up her sweet
+and charming face.
+
+"Oh! sir, thank you; give--give me quickly," said Madame de Fermont,
+pushing back the table and half opening the door.
+
+"It is twenty sous, madame," said the fence, showing the letter so
+impatiently desired.
+
+"I am going to pay you, sir."
+
+"Oh! madame, there is no hurry. I am going to the roof; in ten minutes
+I will descend, and take the money as I pass." Micou handed the letter
+to Madame de Fermont, and disappeared.
+
+"The letter is from Normandy. On the stamp is _Aubiers_; it is
+from M. d'Orbigny!" cried Madame de Fermont examining the address.
+
+"Well, mamma, was I right?"
+
+"Oh, how my heart beats! Our good or bad fortune is, however, here,"
+said Madame de Ferment, in a faltering voice, showing the letter.
+
+Twice her trembling hand approached the seal to break it. She had not
+the courage. Can one hope to paint the terrible anguish suffered by
+those who, like Madame de Fermont, await from a letter hope or
+despair?
+
+The burning and feverish emotion of a player whose last pieces of gold
+are staked on a single card, and who, breathless, the eye inflamed,
+awaits the decisive throw which saves or ruins him forever: this
+emotion, so violent, would hardly give an idea of the terrible anguish
+of which we speak. In an instant the soul is lifted up with the most
+radiant hopes, or plunged into the blackest despair. The unfortunate
+being passes in turn through the most contrary emotions; ineffable
+feelings of happiness and gratitude toward the generous heart which
+had pity on his sorrows--a sad and bitter resentment against the
+selfish or indifferent.
+
+"What weakness!" said Madame de Fermont, with a sad smile, seating
+herself on the bed of her daughter: "once more, my poor Claire, our
+fate is there. I burn to know it, and I dare not. If it is a refusal,
+alas! it will be always soon enough."
+
+"And if it should be a promise of succor? say, mamma; if this poor
+little letter contains good and consoling words, which will assure us
+as to the future, in promising us a modest employ in the house of M.
+d'Orbigny, each minute we lose, is it not a moment of happiness lost?"
+
+"Yes, my child; but if, on the contrary--"
+
+"No, mamma; you are mistaken, I am sure of it--when I told you that M.
+d'Orbigny would not have waited, so long to answer your letter, except
+to give you a favorable answer. Let me look at the letter, mamma; I am
+sure to guess, only from the writing, if the news is good or bad.
+Hold, I am sure of it now," said Claire, taking the letter; "you have
+only to look at the bold, good, and strong hand, to see that the
+writer must be accustomed to give to those who suffer."
+
+"I entreat you, Claire, no more of these foolish hopes, or I can never
+open the letter."
+
+"My God! good little mamma, without opening it I can tell you what it
+contains; listen: 'Madame, your condition and that of your daughter is
+so worthy of interest, that I beg you will have the goodness to come
+immediately to me, in case you would like to take charge of my
+house.'"
+
+"My child, once more I entreat you--no insane hopes; the reverse will
+be frightful. Come, courage," said Madame de Fermont, taking the
+letter from her daughter, and preparing to break the seal.
+
+"Courage for you--very well!" said Claire, smiling, and carried away
+by a feeling of confidence so natural at her age. "As for me, I have
+no need of it: I am so sure of what I advance. Stop, do you wish me to
+open the letter? shall I read it? give it me, timid mamma."
+
+"Yes--I would rather--here. But no, no; it is better that I should."
+Madame de Fermont broke the seal with indescribable emotion. Her
+daughter, also, in spite of her apparent confidence, could hardly
+breathe.
+
+"Read it aloud, mamma," said she.
+
+"The letter is not long; it is from the Countess d'Orbigny," said
+Madame de Fermont looking at the signature.
+
+"So much the better; it is good. Do you see, mamma, this excellent
+young lady has been pleased to answer you herself."
+
+"We shall see."
+
+"MADAME-M. le Comte d'Orbigny, very much indisposed for some time
+past, could not reply to you during my absence."
+
+"You see, mamma, it was not his fault."
+
+"Listen, listen."
+
+"Having arrived this morning from Paris, I hasten to write to you,
+madame, after having conferred on the subject of your letter with M.
+d'Orbigny. He has but a faint recollection of the relation which you
+suppose to have existed between him and your brother. As to the name
+of your husband, madame, it is not unknown to M. d'Orbigny; but he
+cannot recollect under what circumstances he heard it mentioned. The
+pretended spoliation, of which so lightly you accuse M. Jacques
+Ferrand, whom we have the good fortune to have for a notary, is, in
+the eyes of M. d'Orbigny, a cruel calumny, of which, doubtless, you
+have not counted the bearing. My husband, as well as myself, madame,
+know and admire the well-known probity of the respectable and pious
+man you attack so blindly. This is to inform you, madame, that M.
+d'Orbigny, feeling, doubtless, for the unfortunate position in which you
+are placed, and of which it is not in his province to find out the
+real cause, finds it out of his power to assist you.
+
+"Be pleased to receive, madame, with this expression of the regrets of
+M. d'Orbigny the assurance of my most distinguished sentiments.
+
+    "COMTESSE D'ORSIGNY."
+
+The mother and daughter looked at each other, incapable of uttering a
+word.
+
+Micou knocked at the door and said, "Madame, can I come in for the
+postage and commission? It is twenty sous."
+
+"Oh! it is right; such good news! well worth what we spend in two days
+for our living," said Madame de Fermont, with a bitter smile; and
+leaving the letter on the bed, she went toward an old trunk without a
+lock, stooped down, and opened it. "We are robbed!" cried the unhappy
+woman, with horror. "Nothing--no more;" added she, in a mournful tone.
+And powerless, she leaned on the trunk.
+
+"What do you say, mamma? The bag of money?"
+
+But Madame de Fermont arose quickly, went out of the chamber, and,
+addressing the receiver, she said, with a sparkling eye, and cheeks
+colored with indignation and alarm, "Sir, I had a bag of money in this
+trunk; some one has robbed me--yesterday, doubtless, for I went out
+for an hour with my daughter. This money must be found. Do you hear?
+You are responsible."
+
+"Some one robbed you! It is not true; my house is honest," said the
+receiver, harshly and insolently. "You say that, so as not to pay me
+the twenty sous."
+
+"I tell you that this money, all that I possessed in the world, some
+one has stolen; it must be found, or I'll make a complaint. Oh! I
+shall spare nothing, respect nothing--I notify you!"
+
+"That would be very fine of you, who have no papers; go and make your
+complaint; go at once! I defy you." The unhappy woman was overcome.
+She could not go out and leave her daughter alone in bed, since the
+fright she had received in the morning, and, above all, after the
+threats addressed to her by the receiver. He continued, "It is a
+cheat; you had no more a bag of silver than a bag of gold; you don't
+want to pay me the postage, hey? Good! all the same; when you pass
+before my door, I will tear off your old black shawl from your
+shoulders; it is very threadbare, but it is worth at least twenty
+sous."
+
+"Oh! sir," cried Madame de Fermont, bursting into tears, "have pity on
+us. This small sum was all we had--my daughter and I; that stolen, we
+have nothing left--nothing, do you understand? nothing-but to starve."
+"What would you have me to do? If it is true that you are robbed, and
+silver, too, it has been spent long since: the money--"
+
+"Alas!"
+
+"The lad who stole them would not have been simple enough to mark the
+money and keep it here, so that he might be caught--if it is some one
+in this house, which I do not believe--for, as I said only this
+morning to the uncle of the lady on the first floor, here is no place
+for plunder! if you are robbed, it is your misfortune. For should you
+make a hundred thousand complaints, you would not recover a sou--you
+would gain nothing by it, I tell you--believe me. Well," cried the
+receiver, seeing Madame de Fermont stagger, "what's the matter? You
+turn pale? Take care of your mother, she is sick," added he, advancing
+in time to save her from falling. The fictitious energy which had so
+long sustained her gave way under this new affliction.
+
+"Mother, what is the matter?" cried Claire, still in bed.
+
+The receiver, yet active and strong for his age, seized with a
+transitory feeling of pity, took Madame de Fermont in his arms, pushed
+open the door, and entered, saying, "Mademoiselle, pardon me for
+coming in while you are in bed, but I must bring in your mother; she
+has fainted; it can't last."
+
+On seeing this man enter, Claire uttered a cry of alarm, and concealed
+herself as well as she could under the bedclothes. The receiver seated
+Madame de Fermont on the chair near the bed, and retired, leaving the
+door half-open, the Big Cripple having broken the lock.
+
+One hour after this, the violent malady, which for so long a time had
+threatened Madame de Fermont, showed itself. Attacked by a violent
+fever and frightful delirium, the unfortunate woman was laid in the
+bed of her child, who, alone, alarmed and almost as ill as her mother,
+had neither money nor resources, and feared at any moment to see the
+ruffian enter who lived upon the same floor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+IN THE RUE DE CHAILLOT.
+
+
+We will precede, by some hours, M. Badinot, who had gone in haste to
+the Viscount de Saint Remy. This last mentioned person lived in the
+Rue de Chaillot, occupying a charming little house in this solitary
+quarter, very near the Champs Elysees, the most fashionable promenade
+in Paris. It is useless to enumerate the advantages which M. de Saint
+Remy derived from a position so wisely chosen. We will only say, a
+person could enter his house very secretly, through a little
+garden-door, which opened on a small and very lonesome street.
+
+In fine, by a miraculous chance, one of the finest horticultural
+establishments in Paris had also, in this out-of-the-way passage, an
+exit not much used. The mysterious visitors of Saint Remy, in case of
+a surprise or unlooked-for renconter, were armed with a pretext
+perfectly plausible and rural for having adventured in the lane. They
+went (they might say) to choose rare flowers at a celebrated florist's
+renowned for the beauty of his conservatories. These visitors,
+besides, would only have told half a falsehood; the viscount, with
+distinguished taste, had a charming green-house, which extended, in
+part, along the little street we have spoken of; the little door
+opened into this delicious winter garden, which reached a boudoir
+situated on the ground-floor of the house.
+
+Madame de Lucenay had demanded a key of this little door. The interior
+of the mansion of Saint Remy presented a singular appearance; it was
+divided into two establishments--the ground-floor, where he received
+ladies; the first story, where he received gentlemen to dinner and
+play: in fine, those he called his friends.
+
+Thus, on the ground-floor was a room which shone with gold, mirrors,
+flowers, silks, and lace; a small music-room, where were a harp and
+pianos (Saint Remy was an excellent musician), a cabinet of pictures
+and curiosities the boudoir communicating with the green-house, a
+dining-room, a bathing-room, and a small library. It is useless to say
+that all these rooms, furnished with exquisite taste, had for
+ornaments some Watteaus but little known, some Bouchers unheard of,
+groups of statuary in biscuit; and on their stands of jasper, a few
+valuable copies, in white marble, of some of the finest groups of the
+"Musee." Joined to this, in summer, for perspective, the deep shade of
+a verdant green; quiet, loaded with flowers, peopled with birds,
+watered by a little brook of living water, which, before it spreads
+itself over the short grass, falls from a black and rustic rock,
+shining like a ribbon of silver gauze, and is lost in a pearly wave,
+in a limpid basin, where two fine swans show their graceful forms.
+
+And when night came, calm and serene, how much shade, how much
+perfume, what silence in sweet-scented groves, whose thick foliage
+served as a canopy to the rustic sofas made of reeds and Indian mats.
+
+In the winter, on the contrary, except the glass which opened into the
+conservatory, all was closed; the transparent silk of the blinds, the
+heavy mass of lace and muslin curtains, rendered the light still more
+mysterious; on every disposable place large masses of exotics seemed
+to spring out of vases glittering with gold and enamel.
+
+Such was the viscount. At Athens he would have been, doubtless,
+admired, exalted, deified, as the equal of Aleibiades; at the time of
+which we speak, the viscount was nothing more than an unworthy forger,
+a miserable cheat.
+
+The first story had an entirely different appearance, altogether
+masculine. There was nothing coquettish, nothing feminine; the
+furniture was of a style simple and serene; for ornaments, fire-arms,
+pictures of race-horses, which had earned for the viscount a good
+number of gold and silver vases, placed on the tables; the
+_tabogie_ (smoking-room) and the saloon for play joined a
+lively-looking dining-room, where eight persons (the number always
+strictly limited when it was a question of a choice meal) had often
+appreciated the excellence of the cook, and the not less excellent merit
+of the cellar, before commencing with him some games of whist for five
+or six hundred louis, or to rattle the noisy dice box.
+
+The apartments being thus thrown open to the reader, he will now
+please to follow us to more familiar regions, to enter the carriage
+court, and mount the little staircase which leads to the very
+comfortable room of Edward Patterson, chief of the stables.
+
+This illustrious coachman had invited to breakfast M. Boyer,
+confidential valet de chambre of the viscount. A very pretty English
+servant-girl having retired, after having brought in a silver teapot,
+our two gentlemen were left alone.
+
+Edward was about forty years of age; never did a more skillful or
+fatter coachman cause his seat to groan under a rotundity more
+imposing, nor to ornament with a powdered wig a face more rubicund,
+nor to collect more elegantly, in his left hand, the quadruple ribbons
+of a four-in-hand; as good a judge of horses as Tattersall of London,
+having been, in his youth, as good a trainer as the celebrated elder
+Chifney, the viscount had found in Edward a rare thing, an excellent
+coachman and a man very capable of directing the training of some
+race-horses which he had had for wagers. Edward, when he did not
+display his sumptuous brown and silver livery on the emblazoned
+hammer-cloth of his seat, looked very much like an honest English
+farmer; it is under this guise we now shall present him to our
+readers, adding, that in his broad and red face one could easily
+perceive the diabolical and unmerciful cunning of a horse-jockey.
+
+M. Boyer, his guest, the confidential valet, was a tall, slender man,
+with gray hair, rather bald, and with a sly, cool, discreet, and
+reserved expression; he used very choice language, had polite, easy
+manners, rather literary, political opinions of the Conservative
+stamp, and could creditably play his part of first violin in a quartet
+of amateurs; at short intervals he took, with the best grace in the
+world, a pinch of snuff from a golden box mounted with fine pearls,
+after which he brushed negligently, with the back of his hand, the
+folds of his fine linen shirt, quite as fine as that of his master.
+
+"Do you know, my dear Edward," said Boyer, "that your servant, Betty,
+makes quite a supportable plain cook?"
+
+"She is a good girl," said Edward, who spoke French perfectly, "and I
+shall take her with me if I should decide on housekeeping; and on this
+subject, since we are here alone, my dear Boyer, let us talk business;
+you understand it very well."
+
+"Why, yes, a little," said Boyer, modestly, and taking a pinch of
+snuff. "That is learned so naturally, when one occupies himself with
+the affairs of others."
+
+"I have then, very important advice to ask of you; it is on this
+account that I begged the favor of your company to a cup of tea this
+morning."
+
+"Quite at your service, my dear Edward."
+
+"You know that besides the race-horses, I had a contract with my lord
+for the complete maintenance of his stables, cattle, and people; that
+is to say, eight horses and five or six grooms and jockeys, for the
+sum of twenty-four thousand francs a year, my wages included."
+
+"It was reasonable."
+
+"During four years, my lord punctually paid me; but about the middle
+of last year he said to me, 'Patterson, I owe you about twenty-four
+thousand francs; how much do you estimate, at the lowest price, my
+horses and vehicles?' 'My lord, the eight horses would not sell for
+less than three thousand francs each, one with the other, and then
+they would be given away' (and it is true, Boyer, for the phaeton pair
+cost five hundred guineas), 'that would make twenty-four thousand
+francs for the horses. As to the carriages, there are four, say twelve
+thousand francs, which, in all, would make thirty-six thousand
+francs.' 'Well,' answered my lord, 'buy them all from me at this
+price, on condition that, for the twelve thousand francs remaining
+after your claim is paid, you will keep and leave at my disposition,
+horses, servants and carriages for six months.'"
+
+"And you wisely agreed to the bargain? It was a golden affair."
+
+"Certainly it was; in two weeks the six months will have expired, and
+I enter into possession."
+
+"Nothing can be plainer. The papers were drawn up by M. Badinot,
+the viscount's agent. In what have you need of my advice?"
+
+"What ought I to do? Sell the establishment on account of my lord's
+departure (and it will sell well), or shall I set up as a horse-dealer,
+with my stable, which will make a fine beginning? What do you advise?"
+
+"I advise you to do what I shall do myself."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I am in the same position that you are."
+
+"How?"
+
+"My lord detests details. When I came here I had, through economy, and
+by inheritance, some sixty thousand francs. I paid the expenses of the
+house, as you did the stables. About the same time that you did, I
+found myself in advance some twenty thousand francs; and for those who
+furnished the supplies, some sixty thousand. Then the viscount
+proposed to me, as he did to you, to reimburse myself by buying of him
+the furniture of the house, comprising the plate--which is fine--the
+pictures, and so on, the whole estimated at the very lowest price, one
+hundred and forty thousand francs. There were eighty thousand francs
+to pay; with the remainder I engaged, as long as it lasted, to defray
+the expenses of the table, servants, and so forth, and for nothing
+else: it was a condition of the bargain."
+
+"Because that on these expenses you would gain something more."
+
+"Necessarily; for I have made arrangements with those who furnish the
+supplies that I will 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."
+
+"Evidently. My lord has gained by this, to live as he always liked to
+live, to the last moment--as a tip-top don--in the very teeth of his
+creditors, for furniture, silver, horses, vehicles, all had been paid
+for at his coming of age, and had become my property and yours."
+
+"Then my lord is ruined?"
+
+"In five years."
+
+"And how much did he inherit?"
+
+"Only a poor little million, cash down," said M. Boyer, quite
+disdainfully, taking another pinch of snuff. "Add to this million
+about two hundred thousand francs of debts, it is passable. It is
+then, to tell you, my dear Edward, that I have had an idea of letting
+this house, admirably furnished as it is, to some English people. Some
+of your compatriots would have paid well for it."
+
+"Without doubt. Why do you not do it?"
+
+"Yes, but I fancy things are risky, so I have decided to sell. My lord
+is so well known as a connoisseur, that everything would bring a
+double price, so that I should realize a round sum. Do as I shall,
+Edward; realize, realize, and do not adventure your earnings in
+speculations. You chief coachman of the Viscount de Saint Remy! It
+will be, who can get you. Only yesterday some one spoke to me of a
+minor just of age, a cousin of the Duchess de Lucenay, young Duke de
+Montbrison, arrived from Italy with his tutor, and about seeing life.
+Two hundred and fifty thousand livres income, in good land; and just
+entering into life--twenty years old. All the illusions of confidence--all
+the infatuation of expense--prodigal as a prince. I know the
+intendant. I can tell you this in confidence: he has already nearly
+agreed with me as first valet de chambre. He countenances me, the
+flat!" And M. Boyer shrugged his shoulders again, having recourse to
+his snuff-box.
+
+"You hope to foist him out?"
+
+"Rather! he is imbecile or impertinent. He puts me there as if he had
+no fear of me! Before two months are over I shall be in his place."
+
+"Two hundred and fifty thousand livres income!" said Edward,
+reflecting, "and a young man. It is a good seat."
+
+"I will tell you what there is to do. I will speak for you to my
+protector," said M. Boyer, ironically. "Enter there--it is a fortune
+which has roots, to which one can hang on for a long time. Not this
+miserable million of the viscount's--a real snowball--one ray of
+Parisian sun, and all is over. I saw here that I should only be a bird
+of passage: it is a pity, for this house does us honor; and up to the
+last moment, I will serve my lord with the respect and esteem which
+are his due."
+
+"My dear Boyer, I thank you, and accept your proposition; but suppose
+I was to propose to the young duke this stable? It is all ready; it is
+known and admired by all Paris."
+
+"Exactly so; you might make a mint."
+
+"But why do you not propose this house to him, so admirably furnished?
+What can he find better?"
+
+"Edward, you are a man of mind; it does not surprise me, but you give
+me an excellent idea. We must address ourselves to my lord, he is so
+good a master that he would not refuse to speak for us to the young
+duke. He can tell him that, leaving for the Legation of Gerolstein,
+where he is an _attache_, he wishes to dispose of his whole
+establishment. Let us see: one hundred and sixty thousand francs for
+the house, all furnished, plate and pictures; fifty thousand francs
+for the stables and carriages; that makes two hundred and thirty
+thousand to two hundred and forty thousand francs. It is an excellent
+affair for a young man who wants everything. He would spend three
+times this amount before he could get anything half so elegant and
+select together as this establishment; for it must be acknowledged,
+Edward, there is no one can equal my lord in knowing how to live."
+
+"And horses!"
+
+"And good cheer! Godefroi, his cook, leaves here a hundred times
+better than when he came. My lord has given him excellent counsels--
+has enormously refined him."
+
+"Besides, they say my lord is such a good player."
+
+"Admirable! Gaining large sums with even more indifference than he
+loses; and yet I have never seen any one lose more gallantly."
+
+"What is he going to do now?"
+
+"Set out for Germany, in a good traveling carriage, with seven or
+eight thousand francs, which he knows how to get. Oh! I feel no
+embarrassment about my lord: he is one who always falls on his feet,
+as they say."
+
+"And he has no more money to inherit?"
+
+"None; for his father has only a small competency."
+
+"His father?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"My lord's father is not dead?"
+
+"He was not about five or six months since. We wrote to him for some
+family papers."
+
+"But he never comes here?"
+
+"For a good reason. These fifteen years he has lived in the country,
+at Angers."
+
+"But my lord never goes to see him?"
+
+"His father?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Never, never--not he!"
+
+"Have they quarreled?"
+
+"What I am going to tell you is no secret, for I had it from the
+confidential agent of the Prince de Noirmont."
+
+"The father of Madame de Lucenay?" said Edward, with a cunning and
+significant look, of which Boyer, faithful to his habits of reserve
+and discretion, took no notice, but resumed, coldly:
+
+"The Duchess de Lucenay is the daughter of the Prince de Noirmont; the
+father of my lord was intimately connected with the prince. The
+duchess was then very young, and Saint Remy the elder treated her as
+familiarly as if she had been his own child. Notwithstanding his sixty
+years, he is a man of iron character, courageous as a lion, and of a
+probity that I shall permit myself to designate as marvelous. He
+possessed almost nothing, and had married, from love, the mother of
+the viscount, a young person rather rich, who brought a million, at
+the christening of which we have just had the honor to assist," and
+Boyer made a low bow. Edward did the same.
+
+"The marriage was very happy until the moment when my lord's father
+found, as was said, by chance, some devilish letters, which proved
+evidently that, during an absence, some three or four years after his
+marriage, his wife had had a tender weakness for a certain Polish
+count."
+
+"That often happens to the Poles. When I lived with the Marquis de
+Senneval, Madame the Marchioness--_une enragee_--"
+
+Boyer interrupted his companion. "You should know, my dear Edward, the
+alliances of our great families before you speak, otherwise you
+reserve for yourself cruel mistakes."
+
+"How?"
+
+"The Marchioness of Senneval is the sister of the Duke of Montbrison,
+where you desire to engage."
+
+"Oh!--the devil!"
+
+"Judge of the effect if you had spoken of her in this manner before
+the envious or detractors: you would not have remained twenty-four
+hours in the house."
+
+"It is true, Boyer. I will try to know the alliances."
+
+"I resume. The father of my lord discovered, then, after twelve or
+fifteen years of a marriage until then happy, that he had reason to
+complain of a Polish count. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the
+viscount was born nine months after his father, or rather, Saint Remy
+had returned from this fatal journey, so that he could not be certain
+whether it was his child or not. Nevertheless, the count separated at
+once from his wife, not wishing to touch a sou of the fortune she had
+brought him, and retired to the country, with about eighty thousand
+francs which he possessed; but you shall see the rancor of this
+diabolical character. Although the outrage was dated back fifteen
+years when he discovered it, yet he set off, accompanied by M. de
+Fermont, one of his relations, in pursuit of the Pole, and found him
+at Venice, after having sought for him in almost all the cities of
+Europe."
+
+"What an obstinate!"
+
+"A devilish rancor, I tell you, my dear Edward! At Venice, a terrible
+duel was fought, in which the Pole was killed. All was done fairly;
+but, my lord's father showed, they say, such ferocious joy at seeing
+the Pole mortally wounded, that his relation, M. de Fermont, was
+obliged to drag him away; the count wishing to see, as he said, his
+enemy expire under his eyes."
+
+"What a man! what a man!"
+
+"The count returned to Paris, went to the house of his wife, announced
+to her that he had just returned from killing the Pole, and left her.
+Since then, he has never seen her nor his son, but has lived at
+Angers, like a real 'wehr-wolf' as they say, with what remains of his
+eighty thousand francs, well curtailed, as you may suppose, by his
+race after this Pole. At Angers he sees no one, except the wife and
+daughter of his relation, M. de Fermont, who has been dead for some
+years. And, besides, it would seem as if this was an unfortunate
+family, for the brother of Madame de Fermont blew his brains out a few
+weeks since, it is said."
+
+"And the viscount's mother?"
+
+"He lost her a long time since. It is on that account that my lord, on
+his coming of age, has enjoyed the fortune of his mother. So you
+plainly see, my dear Edward, that as regards inheritance, my lord has
+nothing, or almost nothing, to expect from his father."
+
+"Who besides must detest him?"
+
+"He would never see him after the fatal discovery, persuaded that he
+is the son of the Pole."
+
+The conversation of the two personages was interrupted by a footman of
+gigantic size, carefully powdered, although it was hardly eleven
+o'clock.
+
+"His lordship has rung twice," said the giant.
+
+Boyer appeared distressed at this neglect; he arose precipitately, and
+followed the servant with as much eagerness and respect as if he had
+not been the proprietor of the mansion of his master.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE OLD COUNT DE SAINT REMY.
+
+
+Two hours had passed since Boyer had gone to attend the viscount, when
+the father of the last mentioned knocked at the gate of the house in
+the Rue de Chaillot.
+
+The Count de Saint Remy was a man of tall stature, still active and
+vigorous, notwithstanding his age; the almost copper color of his skin
+contrasted strangely with the silvery whiteness of his beard and hair;
+his heavy, still black eyebrows overshadowed piercing but sunken eyes.
+Although, from a kind of misanthropy, he wore clothes quite rusty,
+there was in his whole appearance that which commanded respect. The
+door of his son's house flew open, and he entered. A porter in a grand
+livery of brown and silver, profusely powdered, and wearing silk
+stockings, appeared on the threshold of an elegant lodge, which had as
+much resemblance to the smoky den of the Pipelets as a cobbler's stall
+could have to the sumptuous shop of a fashionable "emporium."
+
+"M. de Saint Remy?" demanded the viscount, in a low tone.
+
+The porter, instead of replying, examined with much contempt the white
+beard, the threadbare coat, and the old hat of the stranger, who held
+in his hand a large cane.
+
+"M. de Saint Remy?" repeated the count, impatiently, shocked at the
+impertinent examination of the porter.
+
+"Not at home." So saying, Pipelet's rival drew the cord, and with a
+significant gesture, invited the unknown to retire.
+
+"I will wait," said the count, and he passed on.
+
+"Stay, friend! one does not enter that way into houses!" cried the
+porter, running after and taking him by the arm.
+
+"How, scoundrel!" answered the old man, raising his cane; "you dare to
+touch me!"
+
+"I will dare something else, if you do not walk out at once. I have
+told you that my lord was out, so walk off."
+
+At this moment, Boyer, attracted by the sound of voices, made his
+appearance. "What is the matter?" demanded he.
+
+"M. Boyer, this man will absolutely enter, although I have told him
+that my lord is out."
+
+"Let us put a stop to this," replied the count, addressing Boyer; "I
+wish to see my son---if he has gone out, I will wait."
+
+We have said that Boyer was ignorant neither of the existence nor of
+the misanthropy of the father, and sufficiently a physiognomist, he
+did not for a moment doubt the identity of the count, but bowed low to
+him, and answered, "If your lordship will be so good as to follow me,
+I am at his orders."
+
+"Go on," said Saint Remy, who accompanied Boyer, to the profound
+dismay of the porter.
+
+Preceded by the valet, the count arrived on the first story, and still
+following his guide, was ushered into a little saloon, situated
+immediately over the boudoir of the ground floor.
+
+"My lord has been obliged to go out this morning," said Boyer, "and if
+your lordship will have the kindness to wait, it will not be long
+before he returns." And the valet disappeared.
+
+Remaining alone, the count looked around him with indifference, until
+suddenly he discovered the picture of his wife, the mother of
+Florestan de Saint Remy. He folded his arms on his heart, held down
+his head, as if to avoid the sight of this victim, and walked about
+with rapid steps.
+
+"And yet I am not certain---he may be my son---sometimes this doubt is
+frightful to me. If he is my son, then my abandoning him, my refusal
+ever to see him, are unpardonable. And then to think my name--of which
+I have ever been so proud--belongs to the son of a man whose heart I
+could have torn out! Oh! I do not know why I am not bereft of my
+senses when I think of it." Saint Remy, continuing to walk with
+agitation, raised mechanically the curtain which separated the saloon
+from Florestan's study and entered the apartment.
+
+He had hardly disappeared for a moment, than a small door, concealed
+by the tapestry, opened softly, and Madame de Lucenay, wrapped in a
+shawl of green Cashmere, and wearing a very plain black velvet bonnet,
+entered the saloon which the count had just left. The duchess, as we
+have said before, had a key to the little private garden-door; not
+finding Florestan in the apartments below, she had supposed that,
+perhaps, he was in his study, and without any fear had come up by a
+small staircase which led from the boudoir to the first story.
+Unfortunately, a very threatening visit from M. Badinot had obliged
+him to go out precipitately.
+
+Madame de Lucenay, seeing no one, was about to enter the cabinet, when
+the curtains were thrown back, and she found herself face to face with
+the father of Florestan. She could not restrain a cry of alarm.
+
+"Clotilde!" cried the count, stupefied.
+
+The duchess remained immovable, contemplating with surprise the old
+white-bearded man, so badly clothed, whose features did not appear
+altogether strange.
+
+"You, Clotilde!" repeated the count, in a tone of sorrowful reproach,
+"you here--in my son's house?"
+
+These last words decided Madame de Lucenay; she at length recognized
+the father of Florestan, and cried, "M. de Saint Remy!" Her position
+was so plain and significant, that the duchess disdained to have
+recourse to a falsehood to explain the motive of her presence in this
+house; counting on the paternal affection which the count had formerly
+shown her, she extended her hand, and said, with an air--gracious,
+cordial, and fearless--which belonged only to her, "Come, do not
+scold! you are my oldest friend! Do you remember, more than twenty
+years ago, you called me your dear Clotilde?"
+
+"Yes, I called you thus, but--"
+
+"I know in advance all that you will say to me; you know my motto;
+_What is, is; what shall be, shall be._"
+
+"Ah, Clotilde!"
+
+"Spare me your reproaches; let me rather speak to you of my joy at
+seeing you! your presence recalls so many things; my poor father, in
+the first place; and then my fifteenth year. Ah! fifteen--sweet
+fifteen!"
+
+"It was because your father was my friend, that--"
+
+"Oh, yes!" answered the duchess, interrupting him, "he loved you so
+much! Do you remember he called you, laughingly 'Green Ribbon.' You
+always said to him, 'You will spoil Clotilde; take care!' and he would
+answer, embracing me, 'I believe I spoil her; and I must hurry and
+spoil her more, for soon fashion will carry her off, and spoil her in
+its turn.' Excellent father that I lost!"
+
+A tear glistened in the fine eyes of Madame de Lucenay, and giving her
+hand to Saint Remy, she said to him, in an agitated voice, "True, I am
+happy, very happy to see you again; you awaken souvenirs so precious,
+so dear to my heart! If you have been in Paris for any time,"
+continued Madame de Lucenay, "it was very unkind in you not to come to
+see me; we should have talked so much of the past; for you know I
+begin to arrive at the age when there is a great charm in talking to
+old friends."
+
+Perhaps the duchess could not have spoken with more nonchalance if she
+had been receiving a visit at Lucenay House.
+
+Saint Remy could not refrain from saying, earnestly, "Instead of
+talking of the past, let us talk of the present. My son may come in at
+any moment, and--"
+
+"No!" said Clotilde, interrupting him, "I have the key of the private
+door, and his arrival is always announced by a bell when he comes in
+by the gate; at this noise I shall disappear as mysteriously as I
+came, and leave you alone. What a sweet surprise you are going to
+cause him! you, who have for so long a time abandoned him!"
+
+"Hold! I have reproaches to make you."
+
+"To me, to me?"
+
+"Certainly! What guide, what assistance had I on entering into
+society? and, for a thousand things, the counsels of a father are
+indispensable. Thus, frankly, it has been very wrong in you to--"
+
+Here Madame de Lucenay, giving way to the peculiarity of her
+character, could not prevent herself from laughing heartily, and
+saying to the count: "You must avow that the position is at least
+singular, and that it is very piquant that I should preach to you!"
+
+"It is rather strange; but I deserve neither your sermons nor your
+praises. I come to my son; but it is not on account of my son. At his
+age he can no longer need my counsels."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"You must know for what reasons I detest society and hold Paris in
+horror!" said the count. "Nothing but circumstances of the last
+importance could have induced me to leave Angers, and, above all, to
+come here--in this house! But I have conquered my repugnance, and have
+recourse to every one who can aid me in researches of great interest
+to me."
+
+"Oh! then," said Madame de Lucenay, with most affectionate eagerness,
+"I beg you dispose of me, if I can be of any use to you. Is there need
+of any applications? M. de Lucenay ought to have a certain influence:
+for, on the days when I go to dine with my great Aunt de Montbrison,
+he gives a dinner at home to some deputies; this is not done without
+some motive; this inconvenience must be paid for by some probable
+advantage. Once more, if we can serve you, command us. There is my
+young cousin, Duke de Montbrison, connected with all the nobility,
+perhaps he could do something? In this case, I offer him to you. In a
+word, dispose of me and mine: you know if I can call myself a devoted
+friend!"
+
+"I know it; and I do not refuse your assistance; although, however--"
+
+"Come, my dear _Alceste_, we are people of the world, let us act
+like such, whether we are here or elsewhere, it is of no import, I
+suppose, to the affair which interests you, and which now interests me
+extremely, since it is yours. Let us speak of this, and sincerely; I
+require it."
+
+Thus saying, the duchess approached the fireplace, and, leaning
+against it, she put out the prettiest little foot in the world to warm
+it.
+
+With perfect tact, Madame de Lucenay seized the occasion to speak no
+more of the viscount, and to converse with M. de Saint Remy on a
+subject to which he attached much importance.
+
+"You are ignorant, perhaps, Clotilde," said the count, "that for a
+long time past I have lived at Angers?"
+
+"No--I knew it."
+
+"Notwithstanding the isolated state I sought, I had chosen this city,
+because one of my relations dwelt there, M. de Fermont, who, during my
+troubles, acted as a brother toward me, having acted as a second in a
+duel."
+
+"Yes, a terrible duel; my father told me of it," said Madame de
+Lucenay, sadly; "but happily, Florestan is ignorant of this duel, and
+also of the cause that led to it."
+
+"I was willing to let him respect his mother," answered the count,
+and, suppressing a sigh, he continued, and related to Madame de
+Lucenay the history of Madame de Fermont up to the time of her leaving
+Angers for Paris.
+
+That history, if the old count had known and related it all, would
+have run thus. Baron de Ferment's brother, ruined by concealed
+speculations, had left three hundred thousand francs with Jacques
+Ferrand. But when the baroness, upon her brother's suicide in
+desperation, and her husband's death, had claimed it from that
+honorable man, the notary had challenged her to produce proofs, of
+which she had not one, and had, moreover, met her with a demand for
+two thousand francs, a debt of the baron's to the notary. So she began
+to suffer every hardship from this abuse of trust. Presuming this, we
+let the count proceed:
+
+"At the end of some time," said he, "I learned that the furniture of
+the house which she occupied at Angers was sold by her orders, and
+that this sum had been employed to pay some debts left by Madame de
+Fermont. Uneasy at this circumstance, I inquired, and learned vaguely
+that this unfortunate woman and her daughter were in distress--the
+victims, doubtless, of a bankruptcy. If Madame de Fermont could, in
+such an extremity, count on any one, it was on me. Yet I received no
+news from her. You cannot imagine my sufferings--my inquietude. It was
+absolutely necessary that I should find them, to know why they did not
+apply to me, poor as I was. I set out for Paris, leaving a person at
+Angers, who, if by chance any information was obtained, was to advise
+me."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Yesterday I had a letter from Angers; nothing was known. On arriving
+here I commenced my researches. I went first to the former residence
+of the brother of Madame de Fermont. Here they told me she lived by
+the Canal Saint Martin."
+
+"And this--"
+
+"Had been her lodgings; but she had left, and they were ignorant of
+her new abode. Since then all my inquiries have been useless; and I
+have come here, in hopes that she may have applied to the son of her
+old friend. I am afraid that even this will be in vain."
+
+For some minutes Madame de Lucenay had listened to the count with
+redoubled attention; suddenly she said, "Truly, it would be singular
+if these should be the same as those Madame d'Harville is so much
+interested for."
+
+"Who?" asked the count.
+
+"The widow of whom you speak is still young, and of a noble presence?"
+
+"She is so. But how do you know?"
+
+"Her daughter handsome as an angel, and about sixteen?"
+
+"Yes, yes!"
+
+"And is named Claire?"
+
+"Oh, in mercy, speak! where are they?"
+
+"Alas, I know not!"
+
+"You do not know?"
+
+"A lady of my acquaintance, Madame d'Harville, came to me to ask if I
+know a widow who had a daughter named Claire, and whose brother
+committed suicide. Madame d'Harville came to me because she had seen
+these words, 'Write to Madame de Lucenay,' traced on the fragment of a
+letter which this unhappy woman had written to a person unknown, whose
+aid she entreated."
+
+"She intended to write to you! Why?"
+
+"I am ignorant; I do not know her."
+
+"But she knew you!" cried Saint Remy, struck with a sudden idea.
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"A hundred times she has heard me speak of your father, of you, of
+your generous and excellent heart. In her trouble, she must have
+thought of you."
+
+"This can be thus explained."
+
+"And how did Madame d'Harville get possession of this letter?"
+
+"I am ignorant; all I know is, that, without knowing where this poor
+mother and child had taken refuge, she was, I believe, on their
+track."
+
+"Then I count upon you, Clotilde, to introduce me to Madame
+d'Harville; I must see her to-day."
+
+"Impossible. Her husband has just fallen a victim to a frightful
+accident. A gun, which he did not know was loaded, went off while in
+his hands, and killed him on the spot."
+
+"Oh, this is horrible!"
+
+"She departed immediately, to pass her first mourning at her father's
+in Normandy."
+
+"Clotilde, I conjure you to write to her to-day; ask for whatever
+information she may possess. Since she interests herself for these
+poor women, tell her she cannot have a warmer auxiliary than me; my
+sole desire is to find the widow of my friend, and to partake with her
+and her daughter the little I possess. It is now my sole family."
+
+"Always the same---always generous and devoted! Count on me; I will
+write to-day to Madame d'Harville. Where shall I send her answer?"
+
+"To Asnieres, poste restante."
+
+"What eccentricity! Why do you lodge there and not at Paris?"
+
+"I hate Paris, on account of the souvenirs it awakens," answered Saint
+Remy, with a gloomy air. "My old physician, Dr. Griffin, has a small
+country-house on the banks of the Seine, near Asnieres; he does not
+live there in winter, and offered it to me; it is almost a suburb of
+Paris; I could, after my researches, find there the solitude which
+pleases me; I have accepted."
+
+"I will write you, then, at Asnieres; I can, besides, give you now
+some information which may perhaps serve you, which I received from
+Madame d'Harville. The ruin of Madame de Fermont has been caused by
+the roguery of the notary who had the charge of her fortune. He denies
+the deposit."
+
+"The scoundrel! What is the fellow's name?"
+
+"Jacques Ferrand," said the duchess, without being able to conceal her
+desire to laugh.
+
+"What a strange being you are, Clotilde! There is nothing in all this
+but what is serious and sad, yet you laugh!" said the count, surprised
+and vexed.
+
+"Pardon me, my friend," answered the duchess; "the notary is such a
+singular man, and they tell such strange things of him. But,
+seriously, if his reputation as an honest man is no more merited than
+his reputation as a pious man (and I declare this usurped), he is a
+wretch!"
+
+"And he lives---"
+
+"Rue du Gentier."
+
+"He shall have a visit from me. What you have told me coincides with
+certain suspicions."
+
+"What suspicions?"
+
+"From what I can learn respecting the death of the brother of my poor
+friend, I am almost led to believe that this unfortunate man, instead
+of committing suicide, has been the victim of an assassination."
+
+"Goodness! what makes you suppose this?"
+
+"Several reasons, too long to tell you. I leave you now."
+
+"You leave without seeing Florestan?"
+
+"This interview would be too painful for me--you must comprehend. I
+only braved it in the hopes of obtaining some information about Madame
+de Fermont, wishing to neglect no means to find her. Now adieu!"
+
+"Oh, you are without pity!"
+
+"Do you not know?"
+
+"I know that your son has never had more need of your counsels."
+
+"Is he not rich--happy?"
+
+"Yes; but he does not know mankind. Blindly prodigal, because he is
+confiding and generous--in everything, everywhere, and always truly
+noble. I fear he is abused. If you knew what a noble heart he has! I
+have never dared to lecture him on the subject of his expense and
+extravagance; in the first place, because I am at least as foolish as
+he is; and then for other reasons; but you on the contrary could--"
+
+Madame de Lucenay did not finish; suddenly she heard the voice of
+Florestan de Saint Remy. He entered precipitately into the cabinet
+adjoining the saloon. After having quickly shut the door, he said, in
+an agitated voice, to some one who accompanied him, "But it is
+impossible!"
+
+"But I repeat to you," answered the clear and piercing voice of M.
+Badinot, "I repeat to you, that, without this, in four hours you will
+be arrested. For if he has not this money, our man will go and make a
+complaint to the attorney-general, and you know the penalty of a
+forgery like this--the galleys, my poor lord!"
+
+It is impossible to describe the look which Madame de Lucenay and the
+father of Florestan exchanged on hearing these terrible words.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+FATHER AND SON.
+
+
+On hearing these fearful words addressed to his son by Badinot, the
+count changed color, and clung to a chair for support. His venerable
+and respected name dishonored by a man whom he had reason to doubt was
+his son? His first feeling overcome, the angry looks of the old man,
+and a threatening gesture which he made as he advanced toward the
+study revealed a resolution so alarming that Madame de Lucenay caught
+him by the hand, stopped him, and said, in a low tone, with the most
+profound conviction, "He is innocent; I swear to you! Listen in
+silence."
+
+The count stood still; he wished to believe what the duchess had said
+was true.
+
+She, on her part, was persuaded of his honesty. To obtain new
+sacrifices from this woman, so blindly generous--sacrifices which
+alone had saved him from the threats of Jacques Ferrand--the viscount
+had sworn to Madame de Lucenay, that, dupe of a scoundrel from whom he
+had received in payment the forged bill, he ran the risk of being
+regarded as an accomplice of the forger, having himself put it in
+circulation.
+
+Madame de Lucenay knew that the viscount was imprudent, prodigal, and
+careless; but never for a moment had she supposed him capable of an
+infamous action, not even the slightest indiscretion.
+
+By twice lending him considerable sums under very peculiar
+circumstances, she had wished to render him a friendly service, the
+viscount only accepting this money on the express condition of
+returning it; for there was due to him, he said, more than twice this
+amount.
+
+His apparent luxurious manner of living allowed her to believe it.
+Besides, Madame de Lucenay, yielding to her natural kind impulses, had
+only thought of being useful to Florestan, without any care whether he
+could repay or not. He affirmed it, and she did not doubt. In
+answering for the viscount's honor, in supplicating the old count to
+listen to the conversation of his son, the duchess thought that he was
+going to speak of the abuse of confidence of which he had been a
+victim, and that he would be thus entirely exculpated in the eyes of
+his father.
+
+"Once more," continued Florestan, in an agitated voice, "I say this
+Petit Jean is a scoundrel; he assured me that he had no other bills
+than those I withdrew yesterday, and three days ago. I thought this
+one was in circulation: it was payable three months after date, at
+Adams & Co., London?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said the clear and sharp voice of Badinot. "I know, my
+dear viscount, that you have adroitly managed your affairs; your
+forgeries were not to be discovered until you were far away. But you
+have been caught by those more cunning than yourself."
+
+"Oh! it is very well to tell me this now, wretch that you are!" cried
+Florestan, furiously; "did you not yourself introduce this person to
+me, who has negotiated the paper?"
+
+"Come, my dear aristocrat," answered Badinot, coldly, "be calm! You
+are very skillful in counterfeiting commercial signatures; it is
+really wonderful; but that is no reason why you should treat your
+friends with disagreeable familiarity. If you go on in this way--I
+leave you to arrange as you please."
+
+"Do you think one can preserve calmness in such a position? If what
+you tell me is true--if this complaint is lodged against me to-day, I
+am lost."
+
+"It is exactly as I tell you, unless you should have recourse again to
+your charming providence with the blue eyes."
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+"Then be resigned. It is a pity it was the last note! for twenty-five
+thousand paltry francs, to go and take the air of the south at Toulon--it
+is ridiculous, absurd, stupid! How could a cunning man like you
+suffer yourself to be thus cornered?"
+
+"What is to be done? what is to be done? nothing here belongs to me; I
+have not twenty louis of my own."
+
+"Your friends?"
+
+"Oh! I owe to all who could lend me; do you think me such a fool as to
+have waited until to-day to ask them?"
+
+"That is true; pardon me--come, let us talk tranquilly, it is the best
+way to arrive at a reasonable solution. Just now I wanted to tell you
+how you were attacked by those who were more cunning than yourself.
+You did not listen to me."
+
+"Well, speak, if it can be of any use."
+
+"Let us recapitulate: you said to me about two months since, 'I have
+about one hundred and thirteen thousand francs in bills on different
+banking-houses, which have some time to run; can you find means to
+negotiate them for me, my dear Badinot--'"
+
+"Well! what next?"
+
+"Stop! I asked to see them. Something told me that the bills were
+forgeries, although perfectly well done. I did not suspect that you,
+it is true, possessed a caligraphic talent so far advanced; but having
+the charge of your fortunes, ever since you had no more fortune, I
+knew you were completely ruined. I had drawn up the deed by which your
+horses, your carriages, the furniture of this hotel, belonged to Boyer
+and Patterson. It was not wonderful for me to be astonished at seeing
+you possess commercial securities of so much value, was it?"
+
+"Do me the favor to spare me your astonishment and let us arrive at
+the facts."
+
+"Here they are. I had not enough experience or timidity to care to
+meddle directly in affairs of that description; I recommended a third
+person to you, who, not less sharp-sighted than I am, suspected the
+game you wished to play."
+
+"That is impossible-he would not have discounted these bills if he had
+thought them false."
+
+"How much money did he give you for the one hundred and thirteen
+thousand francs?"
+
+"Twenty-five thousand francs cash, and the remainder in debts to be
+recovered."
+
+"And how much did you ever recover from these?"
+
+"Nothing, you know well enough; they were imaginary; but he certainly
+risked twenty-five thousand francs."
+
+"How unfledged you are, my dear lord! Having my commission of a
+hundred louis to receive, I took good care not to tell this third
+person the real state of your affairs. He thought you still quite
+rich, and he knew, besides, that you were adored by a great lady, who
+was very rich, and who would never have you in embarrassment; he was
+then pretty sure to get back what he advanced; he ran some risk, to be
+sure; but he also had a chance of making a great deal of money, and
+his calculation was a good one; for, the other day you paid him one
+hundred thousand francs to withdraw the forgery of fifty-eight
+thousand francs, and yesterday thirty thousand francs for the second;
+for this last, he had been contented with receiving its real value.
+How you procured these thirty thousand francs yesterday may the devil
+run away with me if I know! for you are a man unique. So you see that
+at the end of the account, if Petit Jean forces you to pay the last
+draft for twenty-five thousand francs, he will have received from you
+one hundred and fifty-five thousand francs for twenty-five thousand
+francs which he paid you; now, I had reason to say that you were in
+the hands of those more cunning than yourself."
+
+"But why did he tell me that this last bill, which he presented to-day,
+was negotiated?"
+
+"Not to alarm you; he also had told you that, with the exception of
+the fifty-eight thousand francs, the others were in circulation; the
+first, once paid, yesterday came the second, and to-day the third."
+
+"The scoundrel!"
+
+"Listen to me, then: every one for himself, as a celebrated lawyer
+said, and I like the maxim. But let us talk coolly: this proves to you
+that Petit Jean (and, between us, I should not be surprised if,
+notwithstanding his holy reputation, Jacques Ferrand was half
+concerned in these speculations), this proves to you, I say, that
+Petit Jean, allured by your first payments, speculates on this last
+bill, quite sure that your friends will not allow you to be dragged
+before the judges. It is for you to see if these friends are so well
+used, so drained, that not another golden drop can be squeezed from
+them, for, if in three hours you have not the twenty-five thousand
+francs, my noble lord, you are caged."
+
+"If you were to repeat this to me forever--"
+
+"Perhaps you would consent to pluck a last feather from the wing of
+that generous duchess."
+
+"I repeat to you, it must not be thought of. To find in three hours
+twenty-five thousand francs more, after all the sacrifices she has
+already made--it would be madness to think of it."
+
+"To please you, fortunate mortal, one would try an impossibility."
+
+"Oh! she has already tried it: this was to borrow one hundred thousand
+francs from her husband, and she succeeded; but these are experiments
+that cannot be tried twice. Let us see, my dear Badinot, until now you
+have never had any reason to complain of me. I have always been
+generous; try to obtain some delay from this miserable Petit Jean. You
+know I always can find means to recompense those who serve me; this
+last affair once hushed, I will take a new flight--you shall be
+content with me."
+
+"Petit Jean is as inflexible as you are unreasonable."
+
+"I!"
+
+"Try only to interest once more your generous friend in your sad fate.
+The devil! Tell her right out the truth; not as you have already said,
+that you are the dupe, but that you are the forger himself."
+
+"No, never will I make such an acknowledgment; it would be shame
+without any advantage."
+
+"Do you prefer that she should learn it to-morrow by the 'Police
+Gazette'?"
+
+"I have three hours left--I can fly."
+
+"Where will you go without money? Judge now! on the contrary, this
+last forgery taken up, you will find yourself in a superb position;
+you would have no more debts. Come, come, promise me to speak once
+more to the duchess. You are such a rake, you know how to make
+yourself so interesting in spite of your faults; at the very worst,
+perhaps, you will be esteemed the less, or even no more, but you will
+be lifted out of this scrape. Come, promise me to see your friend, and
+I will run to Petit Jean, and do my best to obtain an hour or two
+more."
+
+"Hell! must I drink of shame to the very dregs?"
+
+"Come now! good luck--be tender, charming, fond; I run to Petit Jean:
+you will find me here until three o'clock; later it will no longer be
+in time: the public prosecutor's office is closed after four o'clock."
+
+Badinot took his departure.
+
+When the door was closed, Florestan was heard to cry, in profound
+despair, "Lost!"
+
+During this conversation, which unmasked to the count the infamy of
+his son, and to Madame de Lucenay the infamy of the man whom she had
+so blindly loved, both remained immovable, scarcely breathing, under
+the weight of this frightful revelation.
+
+It would be impossible to describe the mute eloquence of the sorrowful
+scene which passed between this young woman and the count, when there
+was no longer any doubt of the crime of Florestan. Extending his arm
+toward the room where his son remained, the old man smiled with bitter
+irony, cast a withering look on Madame de Lucenay, and seemed to say
+to her:
+
+"Behold him for whom you have braved all shame, made every sacrifice!
+Behold him you have reproached me for abandoning!"
+
+The duchess understood the look; for a moment she hung her head under
+the weight of her shame. The lesson was terrible.
+
+Then by degrees, to the cruel anxiety which had contracted the
+features of Madame de Lucenay succeeded a kind of noble indignation.
+The inexcusable faults of this woman were at least palliated by the
+fidelity of her love, by the boldness of her devotion, by the grandeur
+of her generosity, by the frankness of her character, and by her
+inexorable aversion for everything that was cowardly and dishonest.
+
+Still too young, too handsome, too much sought after, to experience
+the humility of having been made use of, this proud and decided woman,
+once the illusion of love having vanished, felt neither hatred nor
+anger; instantaneously, without any transition, a mortal disgust, an
+icy disdain, killed her affection, until then so lively; it was no
+longer a woman deceived by her lover, but it was the lady of fashion
+discovering that a man of her society was a cheat and a forger.
+
+In supposing even that some circumstances might have extenuated the
+ignominy of Florestan, Madame de Lucenay would not have admitted them;
+according to her views, the man who overstepped certain limits of
+honor, either through vice or weakness, no longer existed in her eyes,
+honor being for her a question of existence or non-existence. The only
+sorrowful feeling experienced by the duchess, was excited by the
+terrible effect which this unexpected revelation produced on the
+count, her old friend. For some moments he appeared not to see nor
+hear; his eyes were fixed, his head hung down, his arms suspended, his
+paleness livid, and from time to time a convulsive sigh escaped from
+his bosom. With a man as resolute as he was energetic, such a state of
+dejection was more alarming than the most furious bursts of rage.
+
+Madame de Lucenay looked at him with much anxiety. "Courage, my
+friend," said she to him, in a low tone, "for you, for me, for this
+man--I know what remains for me to do."
+
+The old man looked at her fixedly; then, as if he had been aroused
+from his stupor by some violent shock, he raised his head, his
+features assumed a threatening appearance, and, forgetting that his
+son might hear him, he cried: "And I, also, for you, for me, for this
+man--I know what I have to do."
+
+"Who is there?" cried Florestan, surprised.
+
+Madame de Lucenay, fearing to meet the viscount, disappeared through
+the small door, and descended the private staircase.
+
+Florestan, having again demanded who was there, and receiving no
+answer, entered the saloon.
+
+The long beard of the old man changed him so much, he was so poorly
+dressed, that his son, who had not seen him for many years, did not at
+first recognize him; he advanced rapidly toward him with a menacing
+air, and said, "Who are you? What do you want here?"
+
+"I am the husband of that woman!" answered the count, showing the
+portrait of Madame de Saint Remy.
+
+"My father!" cried Florestan, retreating in alarm; and he endeavored
+to recall to mind the features so long forgotten. Erect, formidable,
+his looks irritated, his face purple with rage, his white hair thrown
+back, his arms crossed on his breast, the count, over-awed, confounded
+his son, who, with his head down, dared not to raise his eyes upon
+him. Yet Saint Remy, from some secret motive, made a violent effort to
+remain calm and to conceal his feelings of resentment.
+
+"Father!" said Florestan, in a faltering voice, "you were there!" "I
+was there."
+
+"You have heard--"
+
+"All."
+
+"Oh!" cried the viscount, mournfully, concealing his face in his
+hands.
+
+There was a moment's pause. Florestan, at first as much astonished as
+vexed at the unexpected apparition of his father, soon began to think
+what he could make out of this incident. "All is not lost," said he to
+himself; "the presence of my father is a stroke of fate. He knows all;
+he will not have his name dishonored; he is not rich, but be must have
+more than twenty-five thousand francs. Let us play close--address,
+emotion, and a little tenderness. I will let the duchess alone, and I
+am saved!"
+
+Then, giving to his charming features an expression of mournful
+dejection, moistening his eyes with the tears of repentance, assuming
+his most thrilling tones, his most pathetic manner, he cried, joining
+his hands with a gesture of despair: "Oh, my father: I am very
+unhappy! after so many years--to see you again, and at such a moment!
+I must appear so culpable to you! But deign to listen to me, I entreat
+you--I supplicate you; permit me, not to justify myself, but to
+explain to you my conduct; will you, my father?"
+
+Old Saint Remy answered not a word: his features remained immovable:
+he seated himself, and with his chin resting on the palm of his hand,
+looked at his son in silence.
+
+If Florestan had known the thoughts which filled the mind of his
+father with hatred, fury, and vengeance, alarmed at the apparent
+calmness of the count, he would not have tried to dupe him.
+
+But, ignorant of the suspicions attached to his birth, ignorant of the
+fault of his mother, Florestan doubted not the success of his trick,
+believing he had only to soften a father who, at once a misanthrope
+and very proud of his name, would be capable, rather than see his name
+dishonored, to decide on any sacrifice.
+
+"My father," he resumed timidly, "permit me to try, not to exculpate
+myself, but to tell you how, from involuntary misleadings, I have
+reached, almost in spite of myself, actions--infamous--I acknowledge."
+The viscount took the silence of his father for a tacit consent, and
+continued:
+
+"When I had the misfortune to lose my mother--my poor mother, who
+loved me so well--I was not twenty. I found myself alone, without
+counsel, without protection. Master of a considerable fortune,
+accustomed to luxury from my childhood, I had made it a habit, a want.
+Ignorant of the difficulty of earning money, I lavished it without
+measure. Unfortunately--and I say unfortunately, because this ruined
+me--my expenses, foolish as they were, by their elegance were
+remarkable. By good taste I eclipsed people who were ten times richer
+than I was. This first success intoxicated me. I became a man of
+luxury as one becomes a warrior or a statesman; yes, I loved luxury,
+not from vulgar ostentation, but I loved it as the painter loves a
+picture, as the poet loves poetry; like every other artist, I was
+jealous of my work; and my work was my luxury. I sacrificed everything
+to its perfection. I wished it fine, grand, complete, splendidly
+harmonious in everything, from my stables to my table, from my dress
+to my house. I wished in everything to be a model of taste and
+elegance. As an artist, in fine, I was greedy of the applause of the
+crowd, and of the admiration of people of fashion; this success, so
+rare, I obtained."
+
+In speaking thus, the features of Florestan lost by degrees their
+hypocritical expression; his eyes shone with a kind of enthusiasm; he
+told the truth; he had been at first reduced by this rather uncommon
+manner of understanding luxury. He looked inquiringly at his father;
+he thought he appeared rather softened.
+
+He resumed, with growing warmth: "Oracle and regulator of the
+fashions, my praise or censure made the law; I was quoted, copied,
+extolled, admired, and that by the best company in Paris, that is to
+say, Europe, the world. The women partook of the general infatuation;
+the most charming disputed for the pleasure of coming to some very
+select fetes which I gave; and everywhere, and always, nothing was
+heard but of the incomparable elegance and exquisite taste of these
+fetes, which the millionaires could neither equal nor eclipse; in
+fine, I was the Glass of Fashion. This word will tell you all, my
+father, if you understand it."
+
+"I understand it, and I am sure that at the galleys you will invent
+some refined elegance in the manner of carrying your chain, that will
+become the fashion in the yard, and will be called a la Saint Remy,"
+said the old man, with bitter irony; then he added, "and Saint Remy is
+my name!"
+
+It caused Florestan to exercise much control over himself to conceal
+the wound caused by this sarcasm.
+
+He continued, in a more humble tone: "Alas! my father, it is not from
+pride that I recall the fact of this success; for, I repeat to you,
+this success ruined me. Sought after, envied, flattered, praised, not
+by interested parasites, but by people whose position much surpassed
+mine, and over whom I only had the advantage derived from elegance--
+which is to luxury what taste is to the arts--my head was turned; I
+did not calculate that my fortune must be spent in a few years; little
+did I heed it. Could I renounce this feverish, dazzling life, in which
+pleasure succeeded to pleasure, enjoyments to enjoyments, fetes to
+fetes, intoxications of all sorts to enchantments of all sorts? Oh, if
+you knew, my father, what it is to be everywhere noticed as the hero
+of the day; to hear the whisperings which announce your entrance into
+a saloon; to hear the women say, 'It is he!--there he is!' Oh! if you
+knew----"
+
+"I know," said the old man, interrupting his son, and without changing
+his position; "I know. Yes, the other day, in a public square, there
+was a crowd, suddenly I heard a noise, like that with which you are
+received when you go anywhere; then the looks of all, the women
+especially, were fixed on a very handsome young man, just as they are
+fixed on you, and they pointed him out, just as they do you, saying,
+'It is he! there he is!' just exactly as they say of you."
+
+"But this man, my father?"
+
+"Was a forger they were placing in the pillory."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Florestan, with suppressed rage; then, feigning
+profound affliction, he added: "My father, have you no pity--what can
+I say to you now? I do not seek to deny my faults--I only wish to
+explain to you the fatal cause of them. Ah, well! yes, should you
+again overwhelm me with cruel sarcasms, I will try to go to the end of
+this confession--I will try to make you understand this feverish
+vanity which has ruined me, because then, perhaps, you will pity me.
+Yes, for one pities a fool--and I was a fool. Shutting my eyes, I
+abandoned myself to the dazzling vortex, into which I dragged along
+with me the most charming women, the most amiable men. Stop myself--
+could I do it? As well say to the poet who exhausts himself, and whose
+genius is consuming his health, 'Pause in the midst of the inspiration
+which carries you away!' No! I could not; I--I! abdicate this royalty
+which I exercised, and return, ruined, ashamed, mocked, to the state
+of a plebeian--unknown; give this triumph to my rivals, whom I had
+until then defied, ruled, crushed! No, no, I could not! not
+voluntarily, at least. The fatal day came, when, for the first time,
+my money was wanting. I was as surprised as if this moment never could
+happen. Yet I had still my horses, my carriages, and the furniture of
+this house. My debts paid, I should still have sixty thousand francs--
+perhaps--what should I do with this trifle? Then, my father, I took
+the first step in infamy. I was still honest. I had only spent what
+belonged to me; but then I began to contract debts which I could not
+pay. I sold all I possessed to two of my people, in order to settle
+with them, and to be able, for six months longer, to enjoy this luxury
+which intoxicated me, in spite of my creditors. To provide for my
+wants at play and foolish expenses, I borrowed, in the first place,
+from the Jews; then, to pay the Jews, from my friends. These resources
+exhausted, commenced a new era of my life. From an honest man I had
+become a chevalier d'industrie, but I was not yet criminal. However, I
+hesitated. I wished to take a violent resolution. I had proved in
+several duels that I was not afraid of death. I thought I would kill
+myself."
+
+"Indeed?" said the count, ironically.
+
+"You do not believe me, my father?"
+
+"It was too soon, or too late!" added the old man, quite immovable,
+and in the same attitude.
+
+Florestan, thinking he had alarmed his father in speaking to him of
+his project of suicide, thought it necessary to get up the scene again
+for a little stage effect. He opened a closet and took from it a
+little green crystal vial, and said to the count, placing it on the
+mantelpiece: "An Italian quack sold me this poison."
+
+"And--it was for yourself?" said the old man, still leaning on his
+elbow.
+
+Florestan understood the bearing of his father's words. His face now
+expressed real indignation, for he spoke the truth. One day, he had
+had the idea of killing himself--an ephemeral fantasy; people of his
+stamp are too cowardly to resolve coldly and without witnesses upon
+death, which they will boldly meet in a duel through a point of honor.
+He cried, then, in a tone of truth, "I have fallen very low, but at
+least not so low as that, my father! It was for myself I reserved the
+poison!"
+
+"And you were afraid?" said the count, without change of position.
+
+"I confess it, I recoiled before this dreadful extremity; nothing was
+yet desperate, the persons whom I owed were rich, and could wait. At
+my age, with my relations, I hoped for a moment, if not to repair my
+fortune, at least to assure myself an honorable independent position
+in its place. Several of my friends, perhaps, less capable than myself
+had made rapid strides in diplomacy. I had a velleity of ambition. I
+had only to request, and I was attached to the legation of Gerolstein.
+Unfortunately, some days after this nomination, a gambling debt
+contracted with a man I hated placed me in the most cruel
+embarrassment. I had exhausted every resource. A fatal idea occurred
+to me. Believing myself certain of impunity, I committed an infamous
+action. You see, my father, I conceal nothing from you. I confess the
+ignominy of my conduct. I seek to extenuate nothing. One of two
+resolutions remains for me to take, and I have now to decide which.
+The first is to kill myself, and to leave your name dishonored, for if
+I do not pay to-day even the twenty-five thousand francs, the
+complaint is made, the affair known, and, dead or living, I am ruined.
+The second means is to throw myself in the hands of my father, to say
+to you, save your son, save your name from infamy, and I swear to
+leave to-morrow for Africa, to enlist as a soldier, and either to be
+killed or to return some day honorably reinstated. What I now tell
+you, my father, is true. In face of the extremity which overwhelms me,
+I have no other way. Decide; either I die covered with shame, or
+thanks to you, I will live to repair my faults. These are not the
+threats and words of a young man, my father. I am now twenty-five; I
+bear your name; I have courage enough either to kill myself, or to
+become a soldier, for I will not go to the galleys."
+
+The count arose.
+
+"I will not have my name dishonored," said he coldly to Florestan.
+
+"Oh, my father! my savior!" cried the viscount, warmly; and he was
+about to throw himself into the arms of his father, when he, with an
+icy gesture, checked the impulse.
+
+"They wait for you until three o'clock, at the house of this man who
+has the forgery?"
+
+"Yes, my father; and it is now two o'clock."
+
+"Let us pass into your cabinet--give me something to write with."
+
+"Here, my father." The count seated himself before the desk of his
+son, and wrote with a firm hand:
+
+"I engage to pay this night, at ten o'clock, the 25,000 francs which
+are owed by my son.
+
+  "COUNT DE SAINT REMY."
+
+"Your creditor insists upon having the money; notwithstanding his
+threats, this engagement of mine will make him consent to a new delay;
+he can go to Mr. Dupont, banker, in the Rue de Richelieu, No. 7, who
+will inform him of the value of this note."
+
+"Oh, father! however can--"
+
+"You may expect me to-night; at ten o'clock. I will bring you the
+money. Let your creditor be here."
+
+"Yes, father, and after to-morrow, I start for Africa. You shall see
+if I am ungrateful. Then, perhaps, when I have reinstated myself, you
+will accept my thanks."
+
+"You owe me nothing; I have said my name shall be no further
+dishonored; it shall not be," said M. de Saint Remy, calmly; and
+taking his cane, which he had placed on the bureau, he turned toward
+the door.
+
+"Father, your hand at least!" said Florestan, in a supplicating tone.
+
+"Here, to-night, at ten-o'clock," replied the count, refusing his
+hand. And he departed.
+
+"Saved!" cried Florestan, joyfully, "saved!" then, after a moment's
+reflection, he added, "saved! almost. No matter; so far good. Perhaps
+to-night I will acknowledge the other thing; he is in train; he will
+not stop halfway and let his sacrifice be useless, because he refuses
+a second. Yet why tell him? Who will know it? Never mind; if nothing
+is discovered, I will keep the money that he will give me to pay this
+last debt. I had a great deal of trouble to move him, this devil of a
+man! The bitterness of his sarcasms made me doubt my success; but my
+threat of suicide, the fear of having his name dishonored, decided
+him; that was the lucky stroke. He is, doubtless, not so poor as he
+pretends to be, if he possesses a hundred thousand francs. He must
+have saved money, living as he does. Once more, I say his coming was a
+lucky chance. He has a cross look, but, at the bottom, I think he is a
+good fellow; but I must hasten to this bailiff." He rang the bell.
+Boyer appeared.
+
+"Why did you not inform me that my father was here? you are very
+negligent."
+
+"Twice I endeavored to speak to you when you came through the garden
+with M. Badinot; but, probably, preoccupied by your conversation with
+M. Badinot, you made a motion with the hand not to be interrupted. I
+did not permit myself to insist. I should be deeply wounded if my lord
+could believe me guilty of negligence."
+
+"Very well; tell Edward to harness immediately Orion--no--Plower, to
+the cabriolet."
+
+Boyer bowed respectfully; as he was about to retire, some one knocked
+at the door.
+
+"Come in!" said Florestan.
+
+A second valet appeared, holding in his hand a small salver. Boyer
+took hold of the salver with a kind of jealous officiousness, and came
+and presented it to the viscount, who took from it a rather voluminous
+envelope, sealed with black wax. The valets retired ceremoniously. The
+viscount opened the package. It contained twenty-five thousand francs,
+in treasury notes; with no other information.
+
+"Decidedly," cried he, with joy, "the day is lucky--sacred! this time,
+completely saved. I shall go to the jeweler's--and yet--perhaps--no,
+let us wait--they can have no suspicion of me--twenty-five thousand
+francs are good to keep; pardieu! I was a fool ever to doubt my star;
+at the moment it seems most obscured does it not appear more brilliant
+than ever? But where does this money come from? the writing of the
+address is unknown to me; let me look at the seal--the cipher; yes,
+yes, I am not mistaken--an N and an L--it is Clotilde! How has she
+known?--and not a word--it is strange! How apropos! Oh I reflect--I
+made a rendezvous for this morning--these threats of Badinot upset me.
+I had forgotten Clotilde--after having waited some time, she has gone.
+Doubtless, this is sent as a delicate hint that she fears I shall
+forget her on account of my monetary embarrassments. Yes, it is an
+indirect reproach for not addressing myself to her as usual. Good
+Clotilde--always the same!--generous as a queen! What a pity to come
+again from her--still so handsome! Sometimes I regret it; but I have
+never asked her until, at the last extremity, I have been forced to
+it."
+
+"The cabriolet is ready," said Boyer.
+
+"Who brought this letter?"
+
+"I am uninformed, my lord."
+
+"Exactly--I will ask at the door; but tell me, is there no one below?"
+added the viscount, looking at Boyer in a significant manner.
+
+"There is no longer any one, my lord."
+
+"I was not deceived," thought Florestan. "Clotilde has waited for me,
+and has gone away."
+
+"Will my lord have the goodness to grant me two minutes?" said Boyer.
+
+"Speak, but make haste."
+
+"Mr. Patterson and I have understood that his Grace the Duke of
+Montbrison was about to establish himself; if your lordship would have
+the goodness to propose to let him have his house all furnished, as
+well as the stables, it would be a good occasion for us to dispose of
+all; and, perhaps, might also suit my lord."
+
+"You are right, Boyer! I should much prefer it. I will see Montbrison,
+and will speak to him about it. What are your conditions?"
+
+"Your lordship understands that we ought to try to profit as much as
+we can by his generosity."
+
+"And gain by your bargain? nothing can be plainer! Come, what is the
+price?"
+
+"For the whole, two hundred and sixty thousand francs, my lord."
+
+"How much do you and Patterson make?"
+
+"About forty thousand francs, my lord."
+
+"Very pretty! However, so much the better; for, after all, I am
+satisfied with you, and if I had had a will to make, I should have
+left this sum to you and Patterson." The viscount went out to go, in
+the first place, to his creditor and Madame de Lucenay, whom he did
+not suspect of having overheard his conversation with Badinot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+THE INTERVIEW.
+
+
+Lucenay House was one of those princely habitations of the Faubourg
+Saint Germain which the unobstructed view renders so magnificent. A
+modern house could have been placed with ease in the space occupied by
+the staircase of one of these palaces; and an entire ward on the
+ground they covered.
+
+Toward nine o'clock in the evening of this same day, the enormous
+gateway was opened to a glittering carriage, which, after having
+described a scientific curve in the immense court stopped before a
+covered porch, which led to an antechamber.
+
+While the stampings of the two vigorous and mettlesome horses
+resounded on the pavement, a gigantic footman opened the emblazoned
+door, and a young man descended slowly from this brilliant vehicle,
+and not less slowly mounted the five or six steps of the porch.
+
+This was the Viscount de Saint Remy.
+
+On leaving his creditor, who, satisfied with the engagement made by
+the Count de Saint Remy, had granted the delay asked, and agreed to
+come to Rue Chaillot at ten o'clock, Florestan was come to thank
+Madame de Lucenay for the new service she had rendered; but, not
+having met the duchess in the morning, he came in great spirits,
+certain to find her at the hour she habitually reserved for him.
+
+From the obsequiousness of the two footmen in the antechamber who ran
+to open the door as soon as they recognized the carriage; from the
+profoundly respectful air with which the rest of the liveried servants
+spontaneously arose as the viscount passed, one could easily see that
+he was looked upon as the second, if not the real master of the
+mansion.
+
+When the Duke de Lucenay entered his house, his umbrella in his hand,
+and his feet in huge overshoes (he detested riding in the daytime),
+the same domestic evolutions were repeated, and always respectfully;
+yet to the eyes of an observer, there was a great difference of
+expression between the reception given to the husband, and that which
+was reserved for the _cicisbeo_.
+
+The same respectful eagerness was manifested in the saloon of the
+valets when Florestan entered there; in a moment, one of them preceded
+him, to announce him to Madame de Lucenay.
+
+Never had Florestan been more conceited; never did he feel more easy,
+more sure of himself, more irresistible. The victory which he had
+gained in the morning over his father; the new proof of attachment
+from Madame de Lucenay; the joy at having so miraculously escaped from
+so cruel a position; his renewed confidence in his star, gave to his
+handsome face an expression of boldness and good humor which rendered
+him still more seducing. In fine, he never was more pleased with
+himself; and he had reason.
+
+A last glance in a mirror completed the excellent opinion that
+Florestan had of himself.
+
+The valet opened the folding doors of the saloon, and announced, "His
+lordship the Viscount de Saint Remy."
+
+The astonishment and indignation of the duchess were indescribable.
+She thought the count must have told his son that she also had
+overheard all.
+
+We have said before, that, on learning the infamy of Florestan, the
+love of Madame de Lucenay was at once changed into utter disdain.
+
+Being engaged out that evening, she was, although without diamonds,
+dressed with her usual taste and magnificence: this splendid toilet;
+the rouge which she wore boldly; her beauty, quite striking at night;
+her figure of "the goddess sailing on clouds," rendered still more
+striking a dignity, which no one possessed more than she did, and
+which she pushed, when it was necessary, to a most superlative
+haughtiness.
+
+The proud, determined character of the duchess is known to the reader;
+let him imagine her look, when the viscount, smiling, advanced toward
+her, and said in loving tones, "My dear Clotilde, how kind you are!
+how much you----" The viscount could not finish.
+
+The duchess was seated, and had not stirred; but her actions, the
+glance of her eye, revealed a contempt at once so calm and so
+withering, that Florestan stopped short. He could not say a word, or
+make a step in advance. Never had Madame de Lucenay conducted herself
+thus toward him. He could not believe it to be the same woman whom he
+had always found so tender and affectionate. His first surprise over,
+Florestan was ashamed of his weakness; he resumed his habitual
+audacity; making a step toward Madame de Lucenay to take her hand, he
+said to her in the most caressing manner, "Clotilde, how is this? I
+have never seen you so handsome, and yet--"
+
+"Oh! this is too impudent!" cried the duchess, recoiling with such
+unequivocal disgust and pride, that Florestan once more was surprised
+and confounded.
+
+However, assuming a little assurance, he said to her: "You will inform
+me, at least, Clotilde, the cause of this sudden change? What have I
+done? What do you wish?"
+
+Without replying to him, Madame de Lucenay looked at him from head to
+foot, with an expression so insulting that Florestan felt the flush of
+resentment mount to his forehead, and he cried, "I know, madame, you
+are habitually very hasty in your ruptures. Is it a rupture you wish?"
+
+"The pretension is curious!" said Madame de Lucenay, with a burst of
+sardonic laughter. "Know that when a lackey robs me--I do not break
+with him--I turn him out."
+
+"Madame!"
+
+"Let us put a stop to this," said the duchess, in a decided and
+haughty tone. "Your presence is repugnant to me! What do you want
+here? Have you not got your money?"
+
+"I was right then. I guessed it was you. These twenty-five thousand
+francs--"
+
+"Your last forgery is withdrawn, is it not? The honor of your family
+name is saved. It is saved. Go away. Ah! believe--I much regret this
+money--it would have succored so many honest people; but it was
+necessary to think of your father's shame and of mine."
+
+"Then, Clotilde, you know all! Oh! look you now; nothing remains for
+me but to die," cried Florestan in the most pathetic and despairing
+tone.
+
+A burst of indignant laughter from the duchess replied to this
+tragical exclamation, and she added, between two fits of hilarity, "I
+never could have thought that infamy could make itself so ridiculous!"
+
+"Madame!" cried Florestan, almost blind with rage.
+
+The folding doors were thrown open suddenly, and a valet announced,
+"His Grace the Duke de Montbrison!"
+
+Notwithstanding his habitual self-command, Florestan could hardly
+restrain himself, which a man more accustomed to society than the duke
+would certainly have remarked. Montbrison was scarcely eighteen.
+
+Let the reader imagine the charming face of a young girl, fair, white,
+and red, whose rosy lips and smooth chin shall be slightly shaded with
+an incipient beard; add to this, large brown eyes, still slightly
+timid, a figure as graceful as that of the duchess, and he will have,
+perhaps, an idea of the appearance of this young duke, the most ideal
+Cherubino that a Countess and a Susanna had ever put on a woman's cap,
+after admiring the whiteness of his ivory neck.
+
+The viscount had the weakness or the audacity to remain.
+
+"How kind you are, Conrad, to have thought of me tonight!" said Madame
+de Lucenay in the most affectionate tone, extending her beautiful hand
+to the young duke who hastened to shake hands with his cousin; but
+Clotilde shrugged her shoulders, and said to him gayly, "You may kiss
+them, cousin: you wear your gloves."
+
+"Pardon me, cousin," said the youth; and he pressed his lips on the
+charming hand she presented him.
+
+"What are you going to do this evening, Conrad?" demanded the duchess,
+without taking the least notice of Florestan.
+
+"Nothing, cousin; when I leave here, I am going to my club."
+
+"Not at all: you shall accompany M. de Lucenay and me to Madame de
+Senneval's; it is her night; she has already asked me several times to
+present you."
+
+"Cousin, I shall be too happy to place myself under your orders."
+
+"And besides, frankly, I do not like to see you so soon accustom
+yourself to this taste for clubs; you have every requisite to be
+perfectly well received and even sought after in society. So you must
+go oftener."
+
+"Yes, cousin."
+
+"And as I am with you pretty much on the footing of a grandmother, my
+dear Conrad, I am disposed to be very maternal. You are emancipated it
+is true; but still I think you will have need for a long time of a
+tutor. And you must absolutely accept of me."
+
+"With joy, with delight, my cousin!" said the young duke with
+vivacity.
+
+It is impossible to describe the mute rage of Florestan, who remained
+standing, leaning against the chimney-piece.
+
+Neither the duke nor Clotilde paid any attention to him. Knowing how
+quickly Madame de Lucenay decided on anything, he imagined that she
+pushed her audacity and contempt so far that she wished to play the
+coquette openly and before him with the young duke.
+
+It was not so; the duchess felt for her young cousin an affection
+quite maternal. But the young duke was so handsome, he seemed so happy
+at the gracious reception of his young cousin, that Florestan was
+exasperated by jealousy, or rather by pride; his heart writhed under
+the cruel stings of envy, inspired by Conrad de Montbrison, who, rich
+and charming, entered so splendidly this life of pleasures, which he
+was leaving--he, ruined, despised, disgraced.
+
+Saint Remy was brave--with the bravery of the head, if we may so
+express it, which, through anger or vanity, causes one to face a duel;
+but vile and corrupted, he had not that courage of the heart which
+triumphs over evil propensities, or which at least gives one the
+energy to escape infamy by a voluntary death.
+
+Furious at the sovereign contempt of the duchess, thinking he saw a
+successor in the young duke, Saint Remy resolved to match the
+insolence of Clotilde, and, if it was necessary, to select a quarrel
+with Conrad. The duchess, irritated at the audacity of Florestan, did
+not look at him; and Montbrison, in his attraction toward his cousin,
+forgetting the usages of society, had neither bowed nor said a word to
+the viscount, whom he knew perfectly.
+
+He advanced toward Conrad, whose back was turned toward him, touched
+his arm lightly, and said, in an ironical and dry tone, "Good-evening,
+your grace; a thousand pardons for not having perceived you before."
+
+Montbrison, feeling that he had been wanting in politeness, turned
+quickly, and said, cordially, "Sir, I am confused, truly, but I dare
+hope that my cousin, who has caused my want of attention, will be
+pleased to make my excuses, and--"
+
+"Conrad!" said the duchess, incensed at the impudence of Florestan,
+who persisted in remaining and braving her; "Conrad, it is right; no
+excuses; it is not worth the trouble."
+
+Montbrison, believing that his cousin reproached him in a playful
+manner for being too formal, said gayly to the viscount, who was white
+with rage, "I shall not insist, sir, since my cousin forbids. You see
+her tutelage commences."
+
+"And this tutelage will not stop there, my dear sir, be quite assured.
+Thus, in this view of the case (which her grace the duchess will
+readily approve, I do not doubt), an idea has just struck me to make
+you a proposition."
+
+"Me, sir?" said Conrad, beginning to dislike the sneering tone of
+Florestan.
+
+"You. I leave in some days for Gerolstein. I wish to dispose of my
+house, all furnished, and my stables; you also should make _an
+arrangement_." The viscount emphasized these last words, looking at
+Madame de Lucenay. "It would be very piquant, would it not, your
+grace?"
+
+"I do not comprehend you, sir," said Montbrison, more and more
+astonished.
+
+"I will tell you, Conrad, why you cannot accept the offer which has
+been made you," said Clotilde.
+
+"And why cannot his grace accept my offer, madame?"
+
+"My dear Conrad, that which is proposed to be sold to you is already
+sold to others. You comprehend? You would have the inconvenience of
+being robbed as on the highway."
+
+Florestan bit his lips with rage. "Take care, madame," cried he.
+
+"How? threats here?" said Conrad.
+
+"Come now, Conrad, pay no attention," said Madame de Lucenay, eating a
+bonbon imperturbably. "A man of honor ought not, nor may not, commit
+himself with this gentleman. If he insists, I will tell you
+wherefore."
+
+A terrible scene was perhaps about to take place, when the doors were
+again thrown open, and the Duke de Lucenay entered, and, according to
+custom, with much noise and disturbance.
+
+"How, my dear! not ready?" said he to his wife. "Why, it is
+astonishing--surprising! Good-evening, Saint Remy; good-evening,
+Conrad. Oh, you see before you the most despairing of men--that is to
+say, I cannot sleep; I cannot eat; I am stupefied; I cannot get used
+to it. Poor D'Harville, what an event!" And M. de Lucenay, throwing
+himself backward on a sofa, threw his hat from him with a gesture of
+despair, and, crossing his left leg over the right knee, he took his
+foot in his hand, continuing to utter exclamations of grief.
+
+The emotions of Conrad and Florestan had time to be subdued before M.
+de Lucenay, the least observing man in the world, had perceived
+anything.
+
+Madame de Lucenay, not from embarrassment--she was not a woman to be
+untimely embarrassed--but the presence of Florestan was repugnant and
+unsupportable, said to the duke, "When you are ready, we will go. I am
+to present Conrad to Madame de Senneval."
+
+"No!" said the duke; and, throwing down a cushion, he arose quickly,
+and began to walk about, violently gesticulating. "I cannot help but
+think of poor D'Harville; can you, Saint Remy?"
+
+"Truly, a frightful event!" said the viscount, who, with hatred and
+rage in his heart, sought the looks of Montbrison; but he, after the
+last words of his cousin, not from want of courage, but from pride,
+turned away from a man so terribly debased.
+
+"Pray, my lord," said the duchess to her husband, "do not regret M.
+d'Harville in a manner so noisy, and, above all, so singularly. Ring,
+if you please, for my servants."
+
+"Only to think," said M. de Lucenay, seizing hold of the bell-pull,
+"three days ago he was full of life, and now, what remains of him?
+Nothing, nothing, nothing!" These last three exclamations were
+accompanied by three pulls of the bell so violent, that the cord broke
+which he held in his hand, separated from the upper string, and fell
+upon a candelabra filled with waxlights, and overturned two; one fell
+upon the mantelpiece, and broke a beautiful little vase of Sevres
+china; the other rolled on the ground, and set fire to a rug of
+ermine, which, for a moment in a blaze, was almost immediately
+extinguished by Conrad.
+
+At the same moment, two valets, summoned by the loud ringing, arrived
+in haste, and found M. de Lucenay with the bell rope in his hand, the
+duchess laughing violently at this ridiculous cascade of candies, and
+Montbrison partaking the hilarity of his cousin.
+
+Saint Remy alone did not laugh.
+
+[Illustration: CAPITAL AND LABOR IN HARMONY ]
+
+Lucenay, quite habituated to such accidents, preserved a serious
+countenance; he threw the rope to one of the servants, and said, "The
+coach!"
+
+When he became a little more calm, the duchess said, "Really, sir,
+there is no one else in the world but yourself who could have caused a
+laugh at so lamentable an event."
+
+"Lamentable! you may well say frightful! horrible! Now, only see,
+since yesterday I have been thinking how many persons there are, even
+in my own family, who I would rather should have died than poor
+D'Harville. My nephew Emberval, for instance, who is so tiresome with
+his stammering; or your aunt Merinville, who is always talking of her
+nerves, her blues, and who swallows every day, while waiting for her
+dinner, an abominable potpie, just like a bricklayer's wife! Do you
+think much of your aunt Merinville?"
+
+"Hush! your grace is crazy!" said the duchess, shrugging her
+shoulders.
+
+"But it is true," answered the duke; "one would give a hundred
+indifferent persons for a friend. Is it not so, Saint Remy?"
+
+"Doubtless."
+
+"It is always that old story of the tailor. Do you know, Conrad, the
+story of the tailor?"
+
+"No, cousin."
+
+"You will understand at once the allegory. A tailor was condemned to
+be hung; there was no other tailor in the village; what do the
+inhabitants do? They said to the judge, 'Your honor, we have only one
+tailor, and we have three shoemakers; if it is all the same to you to
+hang one of the shoemakers in the place of the tailor, we shall have
+quite enough with two shoemakers.' Do you comprehend the allegory,
+Conrad?"
+
+'Yes, cousin."
+
+"And you, Saint Remy?"
+
+"I also."
+
+"The coach," said one of the servants.
+
+"Oh! but why do you not wear your diamonds?" said M. de Lucenay,
+unexpectedly; "with this dress they would look devilish well."
+
+Saint Remy shuddered.
+
+"For one poor little time that we go out together," continued the
+duke, "you might have honored me with your diamonds. They are really
+very handsome. Have you ever seen them, Saint Remy?"
+
+"Yes; his lordship knows them by heart," said Clotilde. "Give me your
+arm, Conrad."
+
+Lucenay followed the duchess with Saint Remy, who was almost beside
+himself with rage.
+
+"Are you not coming with us to the Sennevals'?" said Lucenay to him.
+
+"No, impossible," answered he hastily.
+
+"By the way, Saint Remy, Madame de Senneval is another one--what do I
+say, one?--two-whom I would sacrifice willingly; for her husband is
+also on my list."
+
+"What list?"
+
+"Of those persons whom I would willingly see die, if poor D'Harville
+could have remained."
+
+While Montbrison was assisting his cousin with her mantle, Lucenay
+said to him, "Since you are going with us, Conrad, order your carriage
+to follow ours, unless you will go, Saint Remy; then you can give me a
+place, and I will tell you a story worth two of the tailor's."
+
+"I thank you," said Florestan, dryly: "I cannot accompany you."
+
+"Then, good-bye. Have you had a dispute with my wife? See, she is
+getting into the carriage without speaking to you!"
+
+"Cousin!" said Conrad, waiting through deference for the duke.
+
+"Get in, get in," cried he: and stopping for a moment in the porch, he
+admired the viscount's equipage.
+
+"Are these your sorrels, Saint Remy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And your fat driver--what a figure! Just see how he holds his horses
+in his hands! I must confess, there is no one but a Saint Remy who has
+the best of everything."
+
+"Madame de Lucenay and her cousin are waiting," said Florestan, with
+bitterness.
+
+"It is true; how rude I am! Soon again, Saint Remy. Oh, I forgot; if
+you have nothing better to do, come and dine with us to-morrow. Lord
+Dudley has sent me from Scotland some grouse and heathcocks. Just
+imagine something monstrous. It is agreed, is it not?"
+
+The duke joined his wife and Conrad. Saint Remy remained alone, and
+saw the carriage depart; his own drew up, and as he took his seat he
+cast a look of rage, hatred, and despair on this house, where he had
+so often entered as a master, and which he now left, ignominiously
+driven away.
+
+"Home," he said, roughly.
+
+"To the hotel," said the footman to Patterson, shutting the door.
+
+The bitter and sorrowful thoughts of Florestan on his way home can
+easily be imagined. As he entered, Boyer, who was waiting for him at
+the lodge, said, "My lord, the count is upstairs."
+
+"It is well."
+
+"There is also a man there, to whom the count has given an appointment
+at ten o'clock."
+
+"Well, well. Oh, what a day!" said Florestan, as he was going upstairs
+to meet his father, whom he found in the saloon where the morning's
+interview had taken place. "A thousand pardons, father, for not being
+here when you arrived; but I----"
+
+"The man who holds this forged draft is here?"
+
+"Yes, father, below."
+
+"Send for him to come up."
+
+Florestan rang the bell; Boyer answered.
+
+"Tell M. Petit Jean to come here."
+
+"Yes, my lord;" and Boyer disappeared.
+
+"How kind you are, father, to remember your promise!"
+
+"I always remember what I promise."
+
+"How grateful! How can I ever prove----"
+
+"I will not have my name dishonored; it shall not be."
+
+"It shall not be; no; and it shall never be more, I swear to you,
+father."
+
+The count looked at his son in a singular manner, and repeated, "No,
+it shall never be more!" Then, with a sneering laugh, he added, "You
+are a conjuror!"
+
+"I read my resolution in my heart."
+
+The count made no reply, but walked up and down the room with his
+hands in the large pockets of his overcoat.
+
+"M. Petit Jean," said Boyer, introducing a man with a low and cunning
+expression of face.
+
+"Where is that bill?" said the count.
+
+"Here it is, sir," said Petit Jean (a man of straw of Jacques Ferrand)
+presenting it.
+
+"Is that it?" said the count to his son.
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+The count drew from the pocket of his waistcoat twenty-five notes of
+one thousand francs each, handed them to his son, and said, "Pay!"
+
+Florestan paid, and took the draft with a profound sigh of
+satisfaction.
+
+M. Petit Jean placed the bills carefully in an old pocket-book, and
+retired. Saint Remy went with him out of the room, while Florestan
+prudently tore up the note.
+
+"At least the twenty-five thousand francs from Clotilde remain. If
+nothing is discovered, it is a consolation. But how she has treated
+me! Now, what can my father have to say to Petit Jean?"
+
+The noise of a key turned in a lock made the viscount shudder.
+
+His father re-entered; his pallor had increased.
+
+"I thought I heard some one lock the door of my cabinet, father?"
+
+"Yes, I locked it."
+
+"You, father!" cried Florestan, surprised.
+
+The count placed himself so that his son could not descend the private
+stairs which led to out-doors.
+
+Florestan, alarmed, began to remark the sinister look of his father,
+and followed all his movements with anxiety. Without being able to
+explain it, he felt alarmed. "Father, what is the matter?"
+
+"This morning, on seeing me, your sole thought has been this: Father
+will not have his name dishonored; he will pay, if I can manage to
+make him believe in my assumed repentance."
+
+"Oh! can you think that--"
+
+"Do not interrupt me. I have been your dupe; you have neither shame
+nor regret, nor remorse: you are rotten to the heart; you have never
+had an honest sentiment; you have not robbed as long as you had enough
+to satisfy your caprices; that is what is called probity by rich
+people of your stamp; then followed want of decency, then baseness,
+crime, and forgery. This is only the first period of your life--it is
+beautiful and pure compared to that which awaits you."
+
+"If I did not change my conduct, I acknowledge; but I will change,
+father. I have sworn it to you."
+
+"You would not change."
+
+"But--"
+
+"You could not change! Driven from the society to which you have been
+accustomed, you would soon become criminal, like the wretches with
+whom you would associate: a robber inevitably, and, if necessary, an
+assassin. There is your future life."
+
+"I an assassin!"
+
+"Yes, because you are a coward!"
+
+"I have fought duels, and I have proved--"
+
+"I tell you, you are a coward! You have preferred infamy to death! A
+day will come when you will prefer the impunity of your new crimes to
+the life of others! That cannot be; I arrive in time to save,
+henceforth, at least, my name from public dishonor. It must be
+finished."
+
+"How, father, finished! what do you mean to say?" cried Florestan,
+more and more alarmed at the expression of his father and his
+increasing paleness.
+
+Suddenly some one knocked violently at the door of the cabinet.
+Florestan made a movement, as if to open it, but his father seized him
+with an iron hand, and withheld him.
+
+"Who knocks?" demanded the former.
+
+"In the name of the law, open, open!" said a voice.
+
+"This forgery was not, then, the last?" said the count, in a low
+voice, looking at his son with a terrible scowl.
+
+"Yes, father, I swear it," answered Florestan, trying in vain to
+release himself from the hold.
+
+"In the name of the law open!" repeated the voice.
+
+"What do you want?" demanded the count.
+
+"I am an officer of police; I come to make a search on account of a
+robbery of diamonds, of which M. de Saint Remy is accused. M. Baudoin,
+jeweler, has the proofs. If you do not open, sir, I shall be obliged
+to break in the door."
+
+"A robber already! I was not deceived," said the count, in a low tone.
+"I came to kill you--I have delayed too long."
+
+"To kill me!"
+
+"My name is enough dishonored! let us finish: I have two pistols here--
+you are going to blow out your brains, otherwise I will do it for
+you, and I will say you killed yourself to escape shame."
+
+And the count, with frightful _sang-froid_, drew from his pocket
+a pistol, and with his disengaged hand gave it to his son, saying:
+
+"Come, proceed, if you are not a coward."
+
+After new and fruitless efforts to escape from the bands of the count,
+his son fell backward, overcome with fright and pale with horror. From
+the terrible and inexorable looks of his father, he saw there was no
+pity to expect from him.
+
+"Father!" he cried.
+
+"You must die!"
+
+"I repent!"
+
+"It is too late! Do you hear? they will break down the door!"
+
+"I will expiate my faults!"
+
+"They are going to enter! Must I, then, kill you?"
+
+"Pardon!"
+
+"The door will give way! You will have it so." And the count placed
+the pistol against the breast of his son.
+
+The viscount saw that he was lost. He took a sudden and desperate
+resolution; no longer struggling with his father, he said, with
+firmness and resignation, "You are right, my father; give me this
+pistol. There is infamy enough attached to my name; the life that
+awaits me is frightful, it is not worth contending for. Give me the
+pistol. You shall see if I am a coward." And he extended his hand.
+"But, at least, a word, one single word of consolation, of pity, of
+farewell," said Florestan. His trembling lips and ashy paleness
+evinced the emotion of his trying situation.
+
+"If this should be my son!" thought the count, hesitating to give him
+the instrument, "if this is my son, I ought still less to hesitate at
+this sacrifice." The door of the cabinet was broken in with a
+tremendous crash.
+
+"Father--they come--oh! I feel now that death is a benefaction.
+Thanks, thanks! but at least your hand, and pardon me!"
+
+Notwithstanding his firmness, the count could not prevent a shudder,
+and said, in a broken voice, "I pardon you."
+
+"Father, the door opens; go to them; do not let them suspect you, at
+least. And then, if they enter here, they will prevent me from
+finishing. Adieu."
+
+The footsteps of several persons were heard in the adjoining
+apartment.
+
+Florestan pointed the pistol to his heart.
+
+It was discharged at the moment when the count, to escape this
+horrible scene had turned away, and rushed out of the room, the
+curtains closing after him.
+
+At the noise of the explosion, at the sight of the count, pale and
+trembling, the commissary stopped suddenly at the threshold of the
+door, making a sign for his officers not to advance.
+
+Informed by Badinot that the viscount was closeted with his father,
+the magistrate at once comprehended everything, and respected his
+great sorrow.
+
+"Dead," cried the count, concealing his face in his hand; "dead!"
+repeated he, overwhelmed. "It was right--better death than infamy, but
+it is frightful!"
+
+"My lord," said the magistrate, sadly after a few moments' silence,
+"spare yourself a sorrowful spectacle; leave this house. Now there
+remains for me a duty to perform still more painful than that which
+brought me here."
+
+"You are right, sir," said Saint Remy. "As to the victim of the
+robbery, you can tell him to call at M. Dupont's, banker."
+
+"Rue du Richelieu. He is well known," answered the magistrate.
+
+"At what amount are the stolen diamonds estimated?"
+
+"At about thirty thousand francs, my lord; the person who bought them,
+through whom the robbery was discovered, gave that amount for them to
+your son."
+
+"I can yet pay this, sir. Let the jeweler call the day after to-morrow
+on my banker; I will settle with him."
+
+The commissary bowed, and the count departed. As soon as he was gone,
+the magistrate, profoundly touched at this unexpected scene, turned
+toward the saloon, the curtains of which were down. He raised them
+with emotion.
+
+"Nobody!" cried he, astonished, looking round the room, and not seeing
+the least trace of the tragic event which was supposed to have
+occurred.
+
+Then, remarking the small door in the tapestry, he ran thither. It was
+locked on the other side. "A trick," cried he in a rage; "he has
+undoubtedly made his escape in this way."
+
+And, in fact, the viscount, before his father, pointed the pistol at
+his heart, but he had afterwards very dexterously discharged it under
+his arm, and immediately fled.
+
+Notwithstanding the most active researches in all parts of the house,
+he was not to be found.
+
+During the conversation between his father and the commissary, he had
+rapidly gained the boudoir, thence the conservatory, the back street
+and finally the Champs Elysees.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+GOOD-BYE IN PRISON.
+
+
+The morning after these last-mentioned events a touching scene took
+place in Saint Lazare, at the hour of the recreation of the prisoners.
+
+On this day, during the promenade of her companions, Fleur-de-Marie
+was seated on a bench near the basin, already called hers. By a sort
+of tacit agreement, the prisoners abandoned this place, which she
+loved, for the sweet influence of the girl had much increased.
+Goualeuse preferred this seat near the fountain, because the moss
+which grew around the border of the reservoir recalled to her mind the
+verdure of the fields, and even the limpid water with which it was
+filled made her think of the little river of Bouqueval village.
+
+To the sad gaze of a prisoner, a tuft of grass is a meadow, a flower
+is a garden.
+
+Confiding in the kind promise of Madame d'Harville, Fleur-de-Marie had
+been expecting for two days to leave Saint Lazare. Although she had no
+reason for inquietude at the delay, she from her habitual misfortunes,
+hardly dared to hope soon for freedom.
+
+Naturally, from the expectation of so soon seeing her friends at
+Bouqueval and Rudolph, Fleur-de-Marie should have been transported
+with joy.
+
+It was not so. Her heart beat sadly; her thoughts returned without
+ceasing to the words and lofty looks of Madame d'Harville, when the
+poor prisoner had spoken with so much enthusiasm of her benefactor.
+
+With singular intuition, Goualeuse had thus discovered a part of the
+lady's secret.
+
+"The warmth of my gratitude for M. Rudolph has wounded this young
+lady, so handsome, and of a rank so elevated," thought Fleur-de-Marie.
+"Now I comprehend the bitterness of her words! she expressed
+disdainful jealousy! She, jealous of me! then she loves him, and I
+love him, also! My love must have betrayed itself in spite of me! To
+love him--I--a creature forever ruined! ungrateful, and wretch that I
+am! Oh! if that were so, rather death a hundred times."
+
+Let us hasten to say, the unhappy child, who seemed doomed to every
+kind of martyrdom, exaggerated what she called her love. To her
+profound gratitude toward Rudolph was joined an involuntary admiration
+of the grace, strength, and beauty which distinguished him above all;
+nothing less material, nothing more pure than this admiration, but it
+existed lively and powerful, because physical beauty is always
+attractive.
+
+And then, besides, the voice of blood, so often denied, mute, unknown,
+or disowned, sometimes makes itself heard; these bursts of passionate
+tenderness, which drew Fleur-de-Marie toward Rudolph, and alarmed her
+because in her ignorance she misconstrued their tendency, resulted
+from mysterious sympathies as evident, but also as inexplicable, as
+the resemblance of features. In a word, Fleur-de-Marie, learning that
+she was Rudolph's daughter, could have at once accounted for her
+feelings toward him; then, completely enlightened, she could admire
+without any scruple the beauty of her father.
+
+Thus is explained the dejectedness of Fleur-de-Marie, although she
+expected at any moment to leave Saint Lazare.
+
+Fleur-de-Marie, melancholy and pensive, was then seated on a bench
+near the basin, regarding with a kind of mechanical interest the
+gambols of two daring birds that came to sport on the curbstone. She
+ceased for a moment to work on a little child's frock which she was
+hemming. It is necessary to say that this belonged to the generous
+offering made to Mont Saint Jean by the prisoners, thanks to the
+touching intervention of Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+The poor, deformed _protegee_ of La Goualeuse was seated at her
+feet; quite busy in making a little cap; from time to time she cast on
+her benefactress a look at once grateful, timid, and devoted--the look
+of a dog to his master.
+
+The beauty, charms, and adorable sweetness of Fleur-de-Marie inspired
+this degraded woman with as much affection as respect.
+
+There is always something holy and grand, even in the aspirations of a
+heart debased, which, for the first time, opens itself to gratitude;
+and, until then, no one had caused Mont Saint Jean to experience the
+religious ardor of a sentiment so new to her. At the end of a few
+moments, Fleur-de-Marie shuddered slightly, wiped away a tear, and
+resumed her sewing.
+
+"You will not, then, take a little rest during the recreation, my
+angel?" said Mont Saint Jean to Goualeuse.
+
+"As I have given no money to buy the lavette, I must furnish my
+proportion in work," answered the girl.
+
+"Your part! why, without you, instead of this fine white linen, and
+warm fustian, to clothe my child, I should only have had those rags
+which were trampled in the mud. I am very grateful toward my
+companions; they have been very kind to me, it is true: but you! oh,
+you! How, then, shall I explain myself?" added the poor creature,
+hesitatingly, and very much embarrassed to express her thoughts.
+"Hold!" resumed she; "there is the sun, is it not? there is the sun!"
+
+"Yes, Mont Saint Jean, I listen," answered Fleur-de-Marie, inclining
+her enchanting face toward the hideous visage of her companion.
+
+"You will laugh at me," answered she, sadly; "I want to speak, and I
+don't know how."
+
+"Say on, Mont Saint Jean."
+
+"Have you not the eyes of an angel!" said the prisoner, looking at
+Fleur-de-Marie in a kind of ecstasy; "your beautiful eyes encourage
+me. Come, I will try to say what I wish. There is the sun, is it not?
+It is very warm, it makes our prison gay, it is pleasant to see and
+feel, is it not?"
+
+"Without doubt."
+
+"Well, let us suppose--this sun did not make itself, and if one is
+grateful to it, so much the more reason--"
+
+"To be grateful toward Him who created it, you mean, Mont Saint Jean!
+You are right; hence, you should pray to Him, adore Him--it is God."
+
+"That's it, there's my idea," cried the prisoner, joyfully; "that's
+it; I ought to be grateful to my companions, but I ought to pray to
+you, adore you, La Goualeuse, for it is you who have rendered them
+good to me, instead of being wicked as they were."
+
+"But, if I am good, as you say, Mont Saint Jean, it is God who has
+made me so; it is, then, He whom you must thank."
+
+"Ah! marry--perhaps so, then, since you say so," answered the
+prisoner; "if it pleases you to have it so, very well."'
+
+"Yes, my poor Mont Saint Jean, pray to Him often. This will be the
+best way of proving to me that you love me a little."
+
+"Love you, La Goualeuse! But, do you not recollect what you told the
+others, to prevent them from beating me? 'It is not her alone you
+beat, it is also her child.' Well! for the same reason, I do not love
+you for myself alone, but also for my child."
+
+"Thank you, thank you, Mont Saint Jean; you give me pleasure to hear
+you say that."
+
+At this moment, Madame Armand, the inspectress, entered the court.
+After having sought for Fleur-de-Marie with her eyes, she came to her
+with a satisfied and smiling air. "Good news, my child!"
+
+"What do you say, madame?" cried La Goualeuse, rising.
+
+"Your friends have not forgotten you; they have obtained your liberty.
+The director has just received the notice."
+
+"Can it be possible, madame! Oh! what happiness!" The emotion of
+Fleur-de-Marie was so violent, that she turned pale, put her hand to
+her heart, which beat violently, and fell back on her seat.
+
+"Calm yourself, my child," said Madame Armand, kindly: "happily, such
+shocks are without danger."
+
+"Ah, madame, how grateful I ought to be!"
+
+"It is, doubtless, Madame d'Harville who has obtained your liberty.
+There is an old lady here who is charged to conduct you to your
+friends. Wait for me; I will return for you; I have a few words to say
+in the workroom." It would be difficult to describe the expression of
+deep grief which spread over the features of Mont Saint Jean on
+learning that her good angel was to leave Saint Lazare.
+
+The grief of this woman was caused less by the fear of a renewal of
+her torments, than by the sorrow at parting from the sole being who
+had ever evinced any interest for her. Still seated at the foot of the
+bench, she took bold of the two tufts of tangled hair which escaped
+from under her old black cap, as if to tear them out; then, this
+violent affliction giving way to dejection, she let her head fall, and
+remained dumb and immovable, with her face buried in her hands.
+
+Notwithstanding her joy at leaving the prison, Fleur-de-Marie could
+not prevent a shudder at the remembrance of La Chouette and the Maître
+d'Ecole; recollecting that these two monsters had made her swear not
+to inform her benefactors of her sad fate.
+
+But these sad thoughts were soon dispelled at the hope of seeing
+Bouqueval, Madame George, and Rudolph again; to the latter she wished
+to recommend La Louve and Martial; it even seemed to her that the
+sentiment which she reproached herself for having felt towards her
+benefactor, being no longer nourished by sorrow and by solitude, would
+be calmed and modified as soon as she should resume the rustic
+occupations which she loved so much to partake with the good and
+honest inhabitants of the farm.
+
+Astonished at the silence of her companion, of which she did not
+suspect the cause, she touched her slightly on the shoulder, and said,
+
+"Mont Saint Jean, since I am now free, can I be of any service to
+you?"
+
+On feeling the hand of La Goualeuse, the prisoner shuddered, let her
+arms fall, and turned toward the young girl, her face streaming with
+tears.
+
+"Listen to me, Mont Saint Jean," said Fleur-de Marie, touched at the
+affection of this poor creature. "I can promise you nothing for
+yourself, although I know some very charitable people; but for your
+child it is different; it is innocent of every evil; he, and the
+persons of whom I speak, would, perhaps, take the charge of it when
+you can part with it."
+
+"Part from it--never, oh, never!" cried Mont Saint Jean, with warmth.
+"What would become of me then, now that I have counted on him?"
+
+"But how will you support it? son or daughter, it must be honest, and
+for that----"
+
+"It must eat honest bread, is it not so, La Goualeuse? I think so; it
+is my ambition. I say it to myself every day, thus: on leaving here I
+shall not let the grass grow under my feet. I will become a rag-picker,
+a crossing-sweeper, but I'll be correct; one owes that, if not
+to one's self, at least to one's children, when one has the honor of
+having any," said she with a kind of pride. "And who will take care of
+your child while you work?" answered La Goualeuse; "would it not be
+better, if that is possible, as I hope it is, to place it in the
+country with some good people, who would make it a good farmer's girl
+or a plowboy? You can come from time to time to see it, and some day,
+perhaps, you would find the means to remain altogether--in the country
+it costs so little to live."
+
+"But to part with it, to part with it! All my joy is in it. I, who
+have no one to love me!" "You must think more for it than for
+yourself, my poor Mont Saint Jean; in two or three days I will write
+to Madame Armand, and if the demand I mean to make in favor of your
+child succeeds, you will never have occasion to say again, what you
+said just now, 'Alas! what will become of it?'"
+
+The inspectress, Madame Armand, interrupted this conversation; she
+came to seek Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+After having again burst into sobs, and bathed with tears of despair
+the hands of the girl, Mont Saint Jean fell back on the bench quite
+overcome with sorrow, not even thinking of the promise just made to
+her by Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"Poor creature!" said Madame Armand, leaving the yard, followed by La
+Goualeuse; "poor creature, her gratitude toward you gives me a better
+opinion of her."
+
+On learning that Fleur-de-Marie was pardoned, the other prisoners,
+instead of being jealous, expressed their joy; some of them surrounded
+her, and bade her farewell in a cordial manner, congratulating her
+frankly on her quick deliverance from prison.
+
+"All the same," said one of them, "she has made us do some good; it
+was when we collected for Mont Saint Jean. This will be remembered in
+Saint Lazare."
+
+When Fleur-de-Marie had left the prison buildings under the conduct of
+the inspectress, the latter said to her, "Now, my child, go to the
+wardrobe, where you will leave your prison garments, and resume the
+peasant's costume, which, from its rustic simplicity, becomes you so
+well; adieu. You go to be happy, for you go under the protection of
+worthy people, and you leave this house never to return. But--hold--I
+am not unreasonable," said Madame Armand, whose eyes were bathed in
+tears, "it is impossible for me to conceal from you how much I am
+already attached to you, poor child!" Then, seeing Fleur-de-Marie much
+affected, she added, "You do not wish me thus to sadden your
+departure?"
+
+"Ah! madame, is it not to your recommendation that this young lady, to
+whom I owe my liberty, interested herself in my fate?"
+
+"Yes, and I am happy at what I have done; my presentiments have not
+deceived me." At this moment a bell rang. "Ah! this is the signal for
+them to resume their work; I must go in. Adieu! once more adieu, my
+dear child!"
+
+And Madame Armand, quite as much affected as Fleur-de-Marie, embraced
+her tenderly; she then said to one of the attendants, "Conduct her to
+the wardrobe."
+
+A quarter of an hour afterward, Fleur-de-Marie, clothed as a peasant,
+entered the office where Mrs. Seraphin awaited her. This woman,
+housekeeper of Jacques Ferrand, came to take the unfortunate child to
+Ravageur's Island.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+REMEMBRANCES.
+
+
+Jacque Ferrand had easily and promptly obtained the liberty of
+Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+Instructed by La Chouette of the sojourn of La Goualeuse in Saint
+Lazare, he had immediately addressed himself to one of his clients, an
+influential man, telling him that a girl, led astray but sincerely
+repentant, and recently confined in Saint Lazare, ran the risk, from
+contact with the other prisoners, of having her good resolutions
+weakened. This girl had been strongly recommended to him by some
+respectable people, who would take charge of her as soon as she left
+the prison. Jacques Ferrand had added, he begged his all-powerful
+client, in the name of morality, of religion, and of the future
+rehabilitation of this unfortunate, to solicit her discharge. Finally,
+the notary, so as to completely conceal his part in the transaction,
+particularly requested his client not to name him in the
+accomplishment of this good work; this wish, attributed to the
+philanthropic modesty of Jacques Ferrand, was scrupulously observed;
+the release of Fleur-de-Marie was demanded and obtained solely in the
+name of the client, who, as soon as it was received, sent it to
+Jacques Ferrand that he might address it to the protectors of the
+girl.
+
+Mrs. Seraphin, on giving this order to the directors of the prison,
+added that she was charged to conduct La Goualeuse to her friends.
+From the excellent account given by the inspectress to Madame
+d'Harville, no one doubted that she owed her freedom to the
+intervention of the marchioness. Thus the notary's housekeeper could
+in no way excite the suspicions of her victim.
+
+Mrs. Seraphin had, as occasion required, the air of a good soul; it
+required very close observation to remark something insidious, false
+and cruel in her crafty look, her hypocritical smile.
+
+In spite of her profound wickedness, which had made her the accomplice
+or confidante of her master's crimes, Mrs. Seraphin could not help
+being struck with the touching beauty of this girl, delivered by
+herself when quite a child to La Chouette, whom she was then about to
+conduct to certain death.
+
+"Well, my dear," said she, in honeyed tones, "you must be delighted to
+get out of prison."
+
+"Oh! yes, ma'am; and, doubtless, I owe my deliverance to the
+protection of Madame d'Harville, who has been so kind to me?"
+
+"You are not mistaken. But come, we are rather late, and we have got a
+long road to travel."
+
+"We are going to Bouqueval Farm, to Madame George, ma'am?" cried La
+Goualeuse.
+
+"Yes, certainly, we are going to the country--to Madame George," said
+the housekeeper, to drive away every suspicion from the mind of
+Fleur-de-Marie; then she added, with malicious good nature, "But this is
+not all; before you see Madame George, a little surprise awaits you.
+Come, come, our hack is below. What delight you must feel at leaving
+this place, dear. Come, let us go. Your servant, sirs." And Mrs. Seraphin,
+after having exchanged salutations with the warders, descended with La
+Goualeuse, followed by an officer to open the doors. The last one was
+closed on the two females, and they found themselves under the large
+porch which faces the Rue du Faubourg Saint Denis, when they met a
+girl who was coming, doubtless, to visit a prisoner. It was Rigolette,
+ever neat and coquettish. A little plain cap, very clean, and trimmed
+with cherry-colored ribbons, which harmonized wonderfully with her
+jet-black hair, surrounded her pretty face; a very white collar was
+turned over her long brown tartan. She carried on her arm a straw
+basket, and, thanks to her neat and graceful manner of walking, her
+thick-soled boots were of marvelous cleanliness, although she came,
+alas, very far.
+
+"Rigolette!" cried Fleur-de-Marie, at once recognizing her.
+
+"La Goualeuse!" exclaimed the grisette in her turn. And the girls
+threw themselves into each other's arms. Nothing could be more
+enchanting than the contrast between these young creatures of sixteen,
+tenderly embracing, both so charming, and yet so different in
+expression and beauty. The one fair, with large, blue, melancholy
+eyes, and a profile of angelic pureness; the other a lively brunette,
+with round and rosy cheeks, pretty black eyes, a charming picture of
+youth and gayety, a rare and touching example of happiness in
+indigence, of virtue in destitution, and of joy in industry.
+
+When Fleur-de-Marie, dragged up, rather than brought up, had run away
+from a hag known as Old One-eye, she had been arrested and committed
+to prison for eight years. Taught sewing there, she had saved up some
+three hundred francs. Ignorant, childishly fond of flowers and the
+open air of the country, she had made Rigolette's acquaintance, with
+hardly a deeper object than to have a companion in her jaunts. Her
+money spent, Fleur-de-Marie had fallen in with the Ogress, the keeper
+of the Lapin Blanc Tavern, who had kept her for the sinful purposes
+which had blemished all her life.
+
+After an exchange of their mutual caresses, the girls looked at each
+other. Rigolette was joyful at the encounter, Fleur-de-Marie confused.
+
+The sight of her friend recalled to her mind the few days of calm
+enjoyment which had preceded her first degradation. "It is you--what
+happiness!" said the grisette.
+
+"Goodness me! what a delightful surprise, it is so long since we have
+seen one another," answered La Goualeuse.
+
+"Oh! now I am no longer astonished at not having met you for six
+months," remarked Rigolette, observing the rustic clothes of La
+Goualeuse; "you live in the country?"
+
+"Yes, since some time," said Fleur-de-Marie, casting down her eyes.
+
+"And you come, like me, to see some one in prison?"
+
+"Yes--I came--I came to see some one," answered Fleur-de-Marie,
+stammering and blushing with shame.
+
+"And you are returning home, far from Paris, without doubt. Dear
+little Goualeuse, always good, I recognize you there. Do you remember
+the poor woman to whom you gave your mattress, linen, and the small
+amount of money you had, which we were about to spend in the country?
+for then you were crazy after the country, you little village girl!"
+
+"And you did not like it much, Rigolette. How kind you were, for it
+was on my account you went."
+
+"And for mine also; for you, who were always a little serious, became
+so contented, gay, and lively, once in the midst of the fields or
+woods; if it were only to see you there, it was pleasure to me. But
+let me look at you again! How this little round cap becomes you! how
+pretty you look. Decidedly, it was your vocation to wear a peasant's
+cap, as it was mine to wear the grisette's. Now you are according to
+your wishes, you must be happy, it does not surprise me. When I did
+not see you any more, I said to myself, 'Good little Goualeuse is not
+made for Paris; she is a real flower of the forest, as the song says,
+and these flowers cannot live in the capital; the air is not good
+enough for them. La Goualeuse has got a place with some good people in
+the country.' This is what you have done, is it not?"
+
+"Yes," said Fleur-de-Marie, blushing.
+
+"Only I have a reproach to make you."
+
+"To me?"
+
+"You should have advised me; one does not leave in this way, at least,
+without sending some word."
+
+"I--I left Paris so quick," said Fleur-de-Marie, more and more
+confused, "that I could not."
+
+"Oh! I did not wish it; I am too happy to see you again. In truth, you
+did right to leave Paris, it is so difficult to live here quietly,
+without reckoning that a poor girl, isolated as we are, might turn to
+evil without wishing it. When one has nobody to advise with, one has
+so few means of defense; the men make such fine promises; and then,
+sometimes poverty is so hard. Do you remember little Julie, who was so
+pretty? and Rosine, the blonde with black eyes?"
+
+"Yes, I recollect them."
+
+"Well! my poor Goualeuse, they have both been deceived, then
+abandoned, and, finally, from misfortune, to misfortune, they have
+fallen to be such wretched women as are shut up here."
+
+"Oh!" cried Fleur-de-Marie, who held down her head and became purple
+with shame.
+
+Rigolette, deceived in the sense of the exclamation of her friend,
+resumed: "Don't be as sad as me, don't cry."
+
+"You have sorrows?"
+
+"I? Oh, you know me, a regular Roger Bontemps. I am not changed, but,
+unfortunately, everybody is not like me; and as others have their
+troubles, that causes me to have some."
+
+"Always kind!"
+
+"Now just imagine, I came here for a poor girl--a neighbor--a very
+lamb, who is accused wrongfully, and much to be pitied; she is Louise
+Morel, daughter of an honest workman who has become crazy from his
+misfortunes." At the name of Louise Morel, one of the victims of the
+notary, Mrs. Seraphin shuddered and looked at Rigolette attentively.
+The face of the grisette was absolutely unknown to her; nevertheless,
+from that moment she paid great attention to the conversation.
+
+"Poor thing," replied the songstress, "how happy she must be at your
+not forgetting her in her trouble."
+
+"This is not all--it is a fatality, just as you met me, I came a great
+distance--and from another prison--a prison for men."
+
+"You?"
+
+"Oh! yes, I have there another very sad friend. You see my basket"
+(and she showed it) "is divided in two; each one has a side; to-day I
+bring Louise a little linen, and just now I carried something to poor
+Germain; my prisoner is called Germain. I cannot think of what has
+just passed between us without having a desire to weep; it is foolish--I
+know it is of no use, but indeed, it is my nature."
+
+"And why do you feel like weeping?"
+
+"Only think, Germain is so unfortunate as to be associated with all
+the prison rogues; it quite overcomes him; he has a taste for nothing,
+eats nothing, and is growing thinner every day. I saw that, and I said
+to myself, 'He is not hungry; I will make him a nice little dainty
+bit, which he liked so much when he was my neighbor; that will give
+him an appetite.' When I say a dainty bit, just understand me, it was
+just some nice potatoes, mashed up with a little milk and sugar; I
+filled a pretty cup with it, and just now I took it to him in prison,
+telling him that I had prepared this myself, just as I used to do in
+our happy days--you understand; I thought, perhaps, I could thus
+induce him to eat, but it caused him to weep; when he saw the cup in
+which I had so often taken my milk before him, he burst into tears;
+and, more than the bargain, I finished by doing as he did, although I
+tried all I could to prevent it; you see my luck. I thought I was
+doing good--consoling him, and I made him more sad than before."
+
+"Yes, but those tears must have been so sweet to him?"
+
+"All the same, I should have preferred to console him differently; but
+I speak of him without telling you who he is; he was an old neighbor
+of mine, the most honest lad in the world, as gentle and timid as a
+young girl, and whom I loved as a companion, as a brother."
+
+"Oh! then I can imagine how his sorrows are yours."
+
+"But you will see what a good heart he has. When I left him, I asked
+him, as I always do, for his commissions, saying to him with a laugh,
+just to raise his spirits a little, that I was his little housekeeper,
+and that I should be very exact, very active, to keep his custom. Then
+he, trying to smile, asked me to bring him one of the romances of
+Walter Scott, which he used to read to me in the evenings when I
+worked. This romance is called 'Ivan--Ivanhoe:' yes, that is the name.
+I liked this book so much, that he read it to me twice. He begged me
+to go to the same library, not to hire, but to buy the volumes we used
+to read together--yes, to buy them--and you may judge it is a
+sacrifice for him, for he is as poor as we are."
+
+"Excellent heart!" said Goualeuse, quite affected.
+
+"There! you are as much moved as I was, when he gave me this
+commission, my good little Goualeuse; but you comprehend, the more I
+felt a desire to weep, the more I tried to laugh; for to weep twice in
+a visit made expressly to enliven him was too much. So to drive this
+gloom away, I recalled to his mind the comic story of a Jew, one of
+the characters of this romance, which formerly had so much amused us.
+But the more I talked, the more he looked at me with the big, big
+tears in his eyes. It touched my heart. I had restrained my tears for
+a quarter of an hour; I ended by doing as he did. When I left him he
+was sobbing; and I said to myself, furious at my stupidity, 'If this
+is the way I cheer and console him, it is hardly worth while to go and
+see him; I, who promised myself to make him laugh! It is astonishing
+how I have succeeded!'"
+
+At the name of Francois Germain, Mrs. Seraphin redoubled her
+attention.
+
+"And what has this young man done to be in prison?" asked
+Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"He!" cried Rigolette, whose compassion gave place to indignation; "he
+is persecuted by an old monster of a notary, who is also the denouncer
+of Louise."
+
+"Of Louise, whom you came here to see?"
+
+"The same. She was the servant of the notary, and Germain was his
+cashier. It would be too long a story to tell you of what they
+unjustly accuse this poor boy. But what is quite sure is, that this
+bad man is very angry with these two unfortunates, who have never
+injured him. But patience--patience; every dog has his day."
+
+Rigolette pronounced these last words with an expression which made
+Mrs. Seraphin uneasy. Engaging in the conversation, instead of
+remaining quiet, she said to Fleur-de-Marie in a wheedling manner, "My
+dear child, it is late; we must go; we are waited for. I can well
+comprehend that what your friend says interests you, for I, who do not
+know this young girl and this young man, am much affected. Is it
+possible people can be so wicked! And what is the name of this bad
+notary of whom you speak, please?"
+
+Rigolette had no reason to be suspicious of Mrs. Seraphin;
+nevertheless, remembering the recommendations of Rudolph, who had
+enjoined on her the greatest reserve on the subject of the secret
+protection which he extended to Germain and Louise, she regretted she
+had suffered herself to say, "Patience--every dog has his day."
+
+"This bad man is one M. Ferrand, madame," answered Rigolette; adding
+very adroitly, to repair her slight indiscretion, "and it is so much
+the more wicked in him to persecute Louise and Germain thus, as they
+have no one to interest themselves in their behalf except me, who can
+be of no use to them."
+
+"What a pity!" said Mrs. Seraphin. "I had hoped the contrary when you
+said 'But patience.' I thought that you reckoned on some protector to
+sustain these two unfortunates against this wicked notary."
+
+"Alas! no, madame," answered Rigolette, in order to completely lull
+the suspicions of Mrs. Seraphin. "Who would be generous enough to take
+the part of these two poor young folks against a rich and powerful man
+like M. Ferrand?"
+
+"Oh, there are hearts generous enough for that!" cried Fleur-de-Marie,
+after a moment's reflection, and with constrained warmth.
+
+"I know some one who makes it a duty to protect those who suffer, and
+defend them, for he of whom I speak is as charitable to honest people,
+as he is formidable to the wicked."
+
+Rigolette looked at Goualeuse with astonishment, and was on the point
+of saying (thinking of Rudolph) that she also knew some one who
+courageously took the part of the weak against the strong; but, still
+faithful to the requests of her neighbor, she answered Fleur-de-Marie,
+"Really! you do know some one generous enough to come to the aid of
+the poor?"
+
+"Yes. And although I have already implored his pity, his benevolence
+for other persons, I am sure if he knew the unmerited misfortunes of
+Louise and M. Germain, he would save them and punish their persecutor;
+for his justice and goodness are almost as inexhaustible as God's."
+
+Mrs. Seraphin looked at her victim with surprise.
+
+"This little girl would be still more dangerous than we thought," said
+she to herself. "If I had taken pity on her, what she has just said
+would render the accident inevitable which will rid us of her."
+
+"My good little Goualeuse, since you have such a good acquaintance, I
+beg you will recommend my Louise and my Germain to him, for they do
+not deserve their fate," said Rigolette, thinking that her friends
+might gain by having two defenders instead of one.
+
+"Be tranquil; I promise you to do what I can for your _proteges_
+with M. Rudolph," said Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"M. Rudolph!" cried Rigolette, strangely surprised.
+
+"Certainly," said La Goauleuse.
+
+"M. Rudolph, a traveling clerk?"
+
+"I do not know what he is. But why this astonishment?"
+
+"Because I know a M. Rudolph also."
+
+"Perhaps it is not the same."
+
+"Let us see; what does he look like?"
+
+"Young?"
+
+"Exactly!"
+
+"A face full of nobleness and goodness?"
+
+"That's it; just like mine!" said Rigolette, more and more surprised;
+and she added, "Is he dark? Has he small mustaches?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is he tall and slender, fine figure, and an air too stylish for a
+traveling clerk? Does yours look just so?"
+
+"Without a doubt it is he," answered Fleur-de-Marie; "only, what is
+strange is, that you think him a traveling clerk."
+
+"As to that, I am sure of it; he told me so."
+
+"You know him?"
+
+"I know him. He is my neighbor!"
+
+"M. Rudolph?"
+
+"He has a chamber on the fourth floor, alongside of mine."
+
+"He! he!"
+
+"What is so astonishing in all this? It is very simple: he only earns
+fifteen or eighteen hundred francs a year; he can only hire a modest
+room, although he has very little regularity about him, for he does
+not know what his clothes cost him, my dear."
+
+"No, no; it is not the same," said Fleur-de-Marie, reflecting.
+
+"Yours, then, is a phoenix for order?"
+
+"He of whom I speak, Rigolette," said Fleur-de-Marie, with enthusiasm,
+"is all-powerful; his name is only pronounced with love and
+veneration, his appearance is imposing, and one is almost tempted to
+kneel before his grandeur and his goodness."
+
+"Then I am at fault, my poor Goualeuse; I say as you do, it is not the
+same; for mine is neither all-powerful nor imposing. He is a very good
+sort, very lively, and no one kneels before him--just the contrary;
+for he has promised to help me wax my floor, and take me a walk on
+Sunday. You see he is no great lord. But what am I thinking about? I
+have truly the heart for a walk! And Louise and my poor Germain, as
+long as they are in prison, there can be no pleasure for me."
+
+For some moments, Fleur-de-Marie reflected profoundly; she recalled to
+her mind that when she first saw Rudolph he had the appearance and
+language of the guests of the Ogress, her keeper. Might he not play
+the part of a traveling clerk with Rigolette? What could be the object
+of this new transformation? The grisette, seeing the pensive air of
+Fleur-de-Marie, said:
+
+"There is no use of cracking your head on this account, my good
+Goualeuse, we shall soon find out if we know the same M. Rudolph; when
+you see yours, speak to him of me; when I see mine, I will speak to
+him of you. In this way we can satisfy ourselves at once."
+
+"And where do you live, Rigolette?"
+
+"Rue du Temple, No. 17."
+
+"Now this is strange, and worth remembering," said Madame Seraphin to
+herself, having attentively listened to this conversation. "This M.
+Rudolph, a mysterious and all-powerful personage, who doubtless makes
+himself pass for a clerk, occupies a room adjoining that of this
+little sewing-girl, who knows more than she chooses to say. Good,
+good; if the grisette and the pretended clerk meddle with what does
+not concern them, we know where to find them."
+
+"When I have spoken to M. Rudolph I will write you,'" said La
+Goualeuse; "and I will give you my address, so that you can answer:
+but repeat your address, for fear I should forget it."
+
+"Here, I have one of my cards that I leave at my customers';" and she
+gave Fleur-de-Marie a little card, on which was written, in
+magnificent italics, "Mademoiselle Rigolette, Dressmaker, 17, Rue du
+Temple."
+
+"It is just as if it were printed, is it not?" added the grisette.
+
+"It was poor Germain who wrote them for me--he was so kind, so
+thoughtful. Now, look you, it seems as if it were done purposely; one
+would say I never found out his good qualities until he was
+unfortunate, and now I am always reproaching myself for having put off
+so long loving him."
+
+"You love him, then?"
+
+"Oh, dear, yes. I must have a pretext to go and see him in prison.
+Confess that I am a strange girl!" said Rigolette, stifling a sigh,
+and laughing through her tears, as the poets say.
+
+"You are as good and generous as ever," said Fleur-de-Marie, pressing
+tenderly the hands of her friend.
+
+Old Seraphin had doubtless heard enough of the conversation of the
+young girl, for she said, almost roughly, to Fleur-de-Marie, "Come,
+come, my dear, let us go; it is late; here is a quarter of an hour
+lost."
+
+"What a surly look this old woman has! I don't like her face,"
+whispered Rigolette to Fleur-de-Marie. Then she added, aloud, "When
+you come to Paris, my good Goualeuse, do not forget me; your visit
+will give me so much pleasure. I shall be so happy to pass a day with
+you, to show you my housekeeping, my room, my birds! I have birds--it
+is my luxury."
+
+"I will try to come and see you, but I will certainly write. Good-bye,
+Rigolette, good-bye. If you knew how happy I am to have met you!"
+
+"And I too! But this shall not be the last time, I hope; and then I am
+so impatient to know if your M. Rudolph is the same as mine. Write me
+soon on this subject, I entreat you!"
+
+"Yes, yes. Adieu, Rigolette."
+
+"Adieu, my good little Goualeuse;" and the two girls embraced each
+other tenderly, concealing their emotion. Rigolette entered the prison
+to see Louise, and Fleur-de-Marie got into a hackney-coach with old
+Seraphin, who ordered the coachman to go to Batignolles, and to stop
+at the city gate.
+
+A cross-road led from this place almost in a straight line to the
+banks of the Seine, not far from the Ravageurs' Island. Fleur-de-Marie,
+being unacquainted with Paris, did not perceive that the carriage was
+driven on a different road from that to Saint Denis. It was only when the
+vehicle stopped at Batignolles that she said to Mrs. Seraphin, who
+invited her to get out--
+
+"But it seems to me, madame, that this is not the road to Bouqueval;
+and then, how can we go from hence to the farm on foot?"
+
+'"All I can say to you, my dear," answered the housekeeper, "is, that
+I execute the orders of your benefactors, and that you would cause
+them much trouble if you hesitate to follow me."
+
+"Oh! madame, do not think it," cried Fleur-de-Marie; "you are sent by
+them--I have no question to ask--I follow you blindly; only tell me if
+Madame George is well!"
+
+"She is perfectly so."
+
+"And--M. Rudolph?"
+
+"Perfectly well also."
+
+"You know him, then, ma'am? Yet just now, when I spoke of him with
+Rigolette, you said nothing."
+
+"Because I must say nothing--I have my orders."
+
+"Did he give them to you?"
+
+"Isn't she curious, the dear; isn't she curious?" said the
+housekeeper, laughing.
+
+"You are right; pardon my questions, ma'am. Since we go on foot to the
+place to which you conduct me," added Fleur-de-Marie, sweetly, "I
+shall know what I so much desire to know."
+
+"In fact, my dear, before a quarter of an hour we shall have arrived."
+
+The housekeeper, having left behind her the last houses of Batignolles
+followed, with Fleur-de-Marie, a grassy footpath. The day was calm and
+beautiful, the sky toward the west half concealed by red and purple
+clouds; the sun, beginning to decline, cast his oblique rays on the
+heights of Colombe, on the other side of the Seine. As Fleur-de-Marie
+drew near the banks of the river, her pale cheeks became slightly
+colored; she inhaled with delight the sharp, pure air of the country,
+and cried, in a burst of artless joy, "Oh! there in the middle of the
+river, do you see that pretty little island covered with willows and
+poplars, with the white house on the shore? How charming this
+habitation must be in summer, when all the trees are covered with
+leaves! What repose, what refreshing air must be found there."
+
+"Verily!" said Mrs. Seraphin with a strange smile, "I am delighted
+that you find the island pretty."
+
+"Why, madame?"
+
+"Because we are going there."
+
+"To that island?"
+
+"Yes; does it surprise you?"
+
+"A little, ma'am."
+
+"And if you should find your friends there?"
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"Your friends collected there, to celebrate your deliverance from
+prison! would you not be more agreeably surprised?"
+
+"Can it be possible: M. Rudolph? Ah! is it true I go to see Madame
+George? I cannot believe it."
+
+"Yet a little patience--in fifteen minutes you will see her, and then
+you will believe."
+
+"What I cannot comprehend," added Fleur-de-Marie, thoughtfully, "is
+that Madame George awaits me there, instead of at the farm."
+
+"Always so curious, the dear--always so curious!"
+
+"How indiscreet I am, ma'am!" said Fleur-de-Marie, smiling.
+
+"To punish you, I have a mind to tell you of a surprise that your
+friends intend for you."
+
+"A surprise? for me, madame?"
+
+"Hold, leave me alone, little spy--you will make me speak in spite of
+myself."
+
+We will leave Mrs. Seraphin and her victim on the road which led to
+the river. We will precede them both for some moments to the island.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+ON THE BOAT.
+
+
+At night, the appearance of the island inhabited by the Martial family
+was gloomy, but in the brilliant sunlight nothing could be more
+charming and cheerful than the cursed dwelling-place.
+
+Bordered by willows and poplars and almost entirely covered with thick
+grass, intersected with winding paths of yellow gravel, the island
+contained a small vegetable garden and a number of fruit trees. In
+this orchard was situated the thatched roof dwelling where Martial had
+wished to retire, with Francois and Amandine. From this place the
+island terminated at its point by a breakwater, formed of large piles,
+to prevent the washing away of the earth.
+
+Before the house was an arbor of green trellis work, reaching quite to
+the landing-place, destined to support during the summer the hop-vine
+and honeysuckle under whose shade were arranged the seats and tables
+of the guests.
+
+At one of the extremities of the main building, painted white and
+covered with tiles, a woodhouse, surmounted by a granary, formed a
+wing, much lower than the principal edifice. Immediately over this
+wing was a window with shutters covered with plates of iron, and
+fastened exteriorly by two bars of the same material.
+
+Three boats were lying at the landing-place, and at the bottom of one
+of them Nicholas was trying how the trap worked which he had arranged.
+
+Mounted on a bench outside of the arbor, Calabash, with her eyes
+shaded with her hand, was looking in the direction where she expected
+Seraphin and Fleur-de-Marie to appear.
+
+"No one yet, neither old nor young," said Calabash, descending from
+her bench, and addressing Nicholas; "it will be as yesterday! Like
+poor fellows waiting for their ship to come in! If these women don't
+come before a half hour, we must go: the affair of Bras-Rouge is
+better worth our while; he is waiting for us. The broker is to be at
+his house in the Champs Elysees at five-o'clock--we must be there
+before him. This very morning La Chouette repeated it to us."
+
+"You are right," answered Nicholas, leaving his boat. "May the thunder
+crush this old woman, who physics us for no purpose! The trap works
+like a charm--of the two jobs perhaps we shall have neither."
+
+"Besides, Bras-Rouge and Barbillon have need of us--of themselves they
+can do nothing."
+
+"It is true; for while one does the business, Red-Arm must remain
+outside his tavern to watch, and Barbillon is not strong enough to
+drag the broker into the cellar alone; this old woman will kick."
+
+"Did not La Chouette tell us, laughingly, that she kept the Maitre
+d'Ecole as a boarder in this cellar?"
+
+"Not in this one; in another which is much deeper, and inundated when
+the river is high."
+
+"Mustn't he vegetate there, in that cellar! To be there all alone and
+blind as he is, after the accident to him!"
+
+"He will see clear there, if he sees nowhere else: the cellar is as
+dark as a furnace."
+
+"All the same; when he has sung all the songs he knows to amuse
+himself, the time must appear devilishly long to him."
+
+"La Chouette says that he amuses himself in hunting rats, and that
+this cellar is very full of game."
+
+"I say, Nicholas, speaking of individuals who must be rather wearied,
+fatigued," said Calabash with a ferocious smile, pointing with her
+finger to the window just described, "there is one there who must be
+sucking his own blood."
+
+"Bah! he is asleep. Since this morning he has made no noise; and his
+dog is silent."
+
+"Perhaps he has strangled it for food; these two days past they must
+have been almost mad with hunger up there."
+
+"It is their business. Martial may endure all this as long as he
+pleases, if it amuses him; when he has finished, we will say that he
+died from a severe illness; there will be no difficulty."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Most surely. On going this morning to Asnieres, mother met Ferot, the
+fisherman; as he expressed his surprise at not having seen his friend
+Martial for two days, she told him that Martial did not leave his bed,
+he was so ill, and his life was despaired of. He swallowed all that
+just like honey; he will tell it to others--and when the affair
+happens it will seem all natural."
+
+"Yes, but he will not die at once; it takes a long time in this way."
+
+"There is no other way to manage it. This madman, Martial, when he has
+a mind, is as wicked as the devil, and as strong as a bull in the
+bargain; had he suspected us, we could not have approached him without
+danger; while with his door once well nailed up on the outside, what
+can he do? His window was already ironed."
+
+"He could loosen the bars by breaking away the plaster with his knife,
+which he would have done, if, mounted on a ladder, I had not mangled
+his hands with the hatchet every time he commenced his work!"
+
+"What a duty!" said the other, chuckling; "how much you must have been
+amused!"
+
+"I had to give you time to arrive with the iron plate and bars which
+you went to Micou's for."
+
+"How he must have foamed. Dear brother!"
+
+"He ground his teeth like a madman; two or three times he tried to
+push me off with blows from his club, but then, having but one hand
+free, he could not work at the grating."
+
+"Fortunately, there is no fireplace in the room!"
+
+"Yes, and the door is strong and his hands wounded! but for this he
+would be capable of making a hole through the plank."
+
+"No, no, there is no danger that he can escape. His bier is more solid
+than if it were made of oak and lead."
+
+"I say--when La Louve gets out of prison, and comes here to seek her
+man, as she calls him?"
+
+"Well! we will tell her to look for him."
+
+"Apropos, do you know that if mother had not shut up these scamps of
+children, they would have been capable of gnawing the door like rats,
+to deliver Martial! That little scoundrel, Francois, is a real devil
+since he suspects that we have shut up our big brother."
+
+"But are you going to leave them in the room upstairs while we are
+away from the island? Their window is not grated--they have only to
+descend from the outside."
+
+At this moment cries and sobs in the house attracted the attention of
+Nicholas and Calabash. They saw the opened door of the ground-floor
+shut violently: a moment after the pale and sinister face of the widow
+appeared at the kitchen-window. With her long, bony arm she beckoned
+her children to come to the house.
+
+"Come, there is a squabble! I bet it is Francois who kicks," said
+Nicholas.
+
+"Scoundrel of a Martial! except for him the boy would have been all
+alone. Watch well, and if you see the two females coming, call me."
+
+While Calabash, mounted on the bench, awaited their approach, Nicholas
+entered the house. Little Amandine, kneeling in the middle of the
+kitchen, wept, and asked pardon for her brother Francois. He,
+irritated and threatening, stood in one of the corners of the room,
+brandishing a hatchet. He seemed this time to make a desperate
+resistance to the wishes of his mother.
+
+As usual, quiet and calm, she pointed to the half-open door leading to
+the cellar, and made a sign to her son that she wished Francois shut
+up there.
+
+"I will not go there!" cried the determined child, whose eyes sparkled
+like those of a wild cat; "you wish to let us die with hunger, like
+brother Martial."
+
+"Mamma, for the love of God, leave us upstairs in our own room, as you
+did yesterday," asked the little girl in a supplicating tone, clasping
+her hands; "in the dark cellar we shall be so much afraid!"
+
+The widow looked at Nicholas in an impatient manner, as if to reproach
+him for not having executed her orders, and she again pointed to
+Francois.
+
+Seeing his brother approach, the young boy brandished his hatchet in a
+desperate manner, and cried, "If you want to shut me up there, whether
+it is brother, mother, or Calabash--I strike, and the hatchet cuts!"
+
+Both Nicholas and the widow felt the necessity of preventing the two
+children from going to the assistance of Martial during their absence,
+and also to conceal from them what was about to take place on the
+river. But Nicholas, as cowardly as he was ferocious, and not caring
+to receive a blow from the dangerous hatchet with which his brother
+was armed, hesitated to approach him.
+
+The widow, vexed at the hesitation of her eldest son, pushed him
+roughly by the shoulder toward Francois.
+
+But Nicholas, again drawing back, cried, "If he wounds me, what shall
+I do, mother? You know well enough I am about to need the use of both
+my arms, and I still feel the blow that Martial has given me."
+
+The widow shrugged her shoulders with contempt, and made a step toward
+Francois.
+
+"Do not come near me, mother!" cried the enraged boy, "or you shall be
+paid for all the blows you have given me and Amandine."
+
+"Brother, rather let yourself be locked up. Oh! do not strike our
+mother!" cried Amandine, terrified.
+
+At this moment Nicholas saw on a chair a large woolen coverlet, which
+was used for the ironing-table; he seized it, and adroitly threw it
+over the head of Francois, who, in spite of all his efforts, finding
+himself entangled in its thick folds, could make no use of his arms.
+Then Nicholas threw himself upon him, and, with the aid of his mother,
+carried him into the cellar. Amandine had remained kneeling in the
+middle of the kitchen. As soon as she saw the fate of her brother, she
+arose quickly, and, notwithstanding her alarm, went of her own accord
+to join him in his gloomy prison. The door was double-locked on the
+brother and sister.
+
+"It is the fault of Martial, if these children are like unchained
+devils against us," cried Nicholas.
+
+"Nothing has been heard in his chamber since this morning," said the
+widow, in a thoughtful manner, and she shuddered; "nothing."
+
+"That proves, mother, that you did well to say to Ferot, the fisherman
+of Asnieres, that Martial was sick in bed, and like to die. In this
+way, when all is over, no one will be astonished." After a moment's
+pause, as if she wished to escape a horrible thought, the widow said,
+roughly, "Did La Chouette come here while I was at Asnieres?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+"Why did she not remain and go with us to Bras-Rouge? I am suspicious
+of her."
+
+"Bah! you suspect everybody, mother: to-day it is La Chouette;
+yesterday it was Bras-Rouge."
+
+"Bras-Rouge is at liberty; my son is at Toulon; they both committed
+the same robbery."
+
+"You always repeat that old story. Bras-Rouge escaped because he is as
+cunning as a steel trap, that's all. La Chouette did not remain here,
+because she had an appointment at two o'clock, near the Observatory,
+with the tall man in black, on whose account she carried off this girl
+from the country, with the assistance of the Maitre d'Ecole and
+Tortillard; and it was even Barbillon who drove the hack which this
+tall man in black hired for the occasion. Come, now, mother, why
+should La Chouette inform against us, since she tells us what jobs she
+has in hand, and we do not tell her ours? for she knows nothing of our
+proposed drowning scrape. Be tranquil, mother--dog don't eat dog. The
+day's work will be a good one. When I think that the broker has often
+twenty or thirty thousand francs' worth of diamonds in her bag, and
+that in two hours' time we shall have her in Red Arm's cellar. Thirty
+thousand francs in diamonds! only think of it."
+
+"And while we hold the broker, Bras-Rouge remains outside?" said the
+widow, with an air of suspicion.
+
+"And where should he be? If any one should come in, must he not
+answer, and prevent them approaching the place where we are doing our
+job?"
+
+"Nicholas, Nicholas!" cried Calabash, from without, "here are the two
+women."
+
+"Quick, quick, mother! your shawl! I will row you over--it will be so
+much done," said Nicholas.
+
+The widow had replaced her morning-cap with one of black tulle. She
+wrapped herself in a large shawl of white and gray tartan, locked the
+kitchen door, placed the key behind one of the shutters, and followed
+her son to the landing-place.
+
+Almost in spite of herself, before she left the island, she cast a
+long, lingering look at Martial's window, knit her brows, bit her
+lips, then, after a sudden fit of shivering, she murmured to herself,
+"It is his fault--his own fault."
+
+"Nicholas! do you see them? there, just by that rising ground," cried
+Calabash, pointing to the other side of the river, where Mrs. Seraphin
+and Fleur-de-Marie appeared, descending a small path leading to the
+shore, near a small elevation, on which was placed a plaster-kiln.
+
+"Let us wait for the signal, and have no bungling," said Nicholas.
+
+"Are you blind? Don't you recognize the fat woman who came here the
+day before yesterday? Look at her orange shawl, and see what a hurry
+the little peasant girl is in! poor little puss--it is plain to see
+she don't know what is coming."
+
+"Yes, I see the fat woman now. Come, it looks like work."
+
+"The old woman is making a sign with her handkerchief," said Calabash:
+"there they are on the shore."
+
+"Come, come, step on board, mother," cried Nicholas, unfastening the
+boat: "come in the boat with the hole, so that the women will not
+suspect anything. And you, Calabash, jump into the other one, my girl--
+row strong. Oh! hold, take my hook, put it alongside of you--it is
+pointed like a lance--it may be of use--now, push ahead!" said the
+bandit, placing in the boat a long boathook, one end of which
+terminated with a sharp spike of iron.
+
+In a few moments the two boats touched the shore, where Mrs. Seraphin
+and Fleur-de-Marie had been waiting impatiently.
+
+While Nicholas was tying his boat to a post, Mrs. Seraphin approached
+him, and whispered, hurriedly, "Say that Madame George awaits us;"
+then she said in a loud tone, "We are a little behindhand, my lad."
+
+"Yes, my good lady; Madame George has asked for you several times."
+
+"You see, my dear, Madame George is waiting for us," said Mrs.
+Seraphin, turning toward Fleur-de-Marie, who, notwithstanding her
+confidence, had felt her heart beat at the appearance of the sinister
+faces of the widow, Calabash and Nicholas.
+
+But the name of Madame George reassured her, and she answered, "I am
+also very impatient to see her; happily, the passage is short."
+
+"Won't the dear lady be happy!" said Mrs. Seraphin. Then, turning
+toward Nicholas, she added: "Come, bring your boat a little nearer,
+that we can embark;" and, in a low tone, she whispered, "The little
+one must be drowned; if she comes up, put her under again."
+
+"It is settled; don't you be afraid; when I make a sign, give me your
+hand. She will sink all alone--all is prepared--you have nothing to
+fear," answered Nicholas, in a low tone. Then, with savage
+imperturbability, without being touched either with the beauty or
+youth of Fleur-de-Marie, he offered her his arm.
+
+The girl leaned lightly on him, and entered the boat. "Now your turn,
+my good lady," said Nicholas to Mrs. Seraphin. And he offered to
+assist her.
+
+Whether it was a presentiment, suspicion, or only a fear that she
+could not jump quick enough from the boat where La Goualeuse and
+Nicholas were seated when it should sink, the housekeeper of Jacques
+Ferrand said to Nicholas, drawing back, "On second thoughts, I will go
+in the boat of mademoiselle." And she took a seat alongside of
+Calabash.
+
+"Very good," said Nicholas, exchanging a glance with his sister; and,
+with the end of his oar, he shoved off his boat, his sister doing the
+same as soon as Mrs. Seraphin had taken her seat. Standing on the
+shore, erect, immovable, indifferent to this scene, the widow, pensive
+and absorbed, kept her eyes fixed on Martial's window, which could be
+distinguished, through the poplar trees, from the shore.
+
+During this time the two boats moved slowly off toward the opposite
+side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+DOES NOT A MEETING LIKE THIS MAKE AMENDS?
+
+
+Before we acquaint the reader with the continuation of the drama which
+passed on the boats, we will go back a little. A few moments after
+Fleur-de-Marie had left Saint Lazare with Mrs. Seraphin, La Louve had
+also quitted the prison.
+
+Thanks to the recommendation of Madame Armand and of the director, who
+wished to recompense her for her good action toward Mont Saint Jean,
+she had been also pardoned and dismissed. A complete change had taken
+place in this creature, heretofore so headstrong, vile, and corrupted.
+
+Keeping constantly in mind the description made by Fleur-de-Marie of a
+peaceful and solitary life, La Louve held in disgust her past crimes.
+
+Confiding in the aid which Fleur-de-Marie had promised her in the name
+of her unknown benefactor, La Louve determined to make this laudable
+proposition to her lover, not without the bitter fear of a refusal,
+for the Goualeuse, in leading her to blush for the past, had also
+given her a consciousness of her position toward Martial.
+
+Once free, La Louve only thought of seeing him. She had received no
+news from him for many days. In the hope of meeting him on Ravageurs'
+Island, she decided to wait there if she did not find him; she got
+into a cab, and was rapidly driven to the Bridge of Asnieres, which
+she crossed about fifteen minutes before Mrs. Seraphin and
+Fleur-de-Marie, coming on foot, had arrived on the shore near the
+plaster-kiln.
+
+As Martial did not come to take La Louve in his boat to the island,
+she applied to the old fisherman named Ferot, who lived near the
+bridge.
+
+At four o'clock in the afternoon, a cab stopped at the entrance of a
+little street of Asnieres village. La Louve gave five francs to the
+coachman. Jumped to the ground, and ran hastily to the abode of Ferot.
+
+Having thrown off her prison dress, she wore a robe of dark green
+merino, a red shawl, imitation cashmere, and a lace cap trimmed with
+ribbons: her thick crispy hair was scarcely smoothed. In her
+impatience to see Martial, she had dressed herself with more haste
+than care. On reaching the house of the fisherman, she found him
+seated at the door mending his nets.
+
+As soon as she saw him, she cried out, "Your boat, Ferot--quick,
+quick."
+
+"Ah! is it you? Good-day, good-day. You have not been here for a long
+time."
+
+"Yes, but your boat--quick--to the island."
+
+"Ah, well! fate will have it so; my good girl, it is impossible to-day."
+
+"How?"
+
+"My boy has taken my boat to go with the others to a rowing match at
+Saint Ouen. There is not a single boat left on the whole shore from
+this to the docks."
+
+"Zounds!" cried La Louve, stamping and clinching her fists; "it
+happens so expressly for me!"
+
+"It's true, on my word. I am very sorry I cannot convey you to the
+island, for, without doubt, he must be worse."
+
+"Worse! Who?"
+
+"Martial."
+
+"Martial?" cried La Louve, seizing Ferot by the collar; "is Martial
+sick?"
+
+"Did you not know it?"
+
+"Martial?"
+
+"Yes, certainly; but you will tear my blouse; do be quiet."
+
+"He is sick. Since when?"
+
+"Two or three days ago."
+
+"It is false; he would have written to me."
+
+"Ah, well, yes! he is too sick to write."
+
+"Too sick to write! And he is on the island; you are sure of that?"
+
+"Don't get me into a scrape; this is the story: this morning I said to
+the widow, 'For two days past I have not seen Martial, his boat is
+there. Is he in the city?' Thereupon the widow looked at me with her
+wicked eyes: 'He is sick on the island; and so sick that he will never
+come off again.' I said to myself, 'How can that be? Three days ago--'
+Well," said Ferot, interrupting himself, "where are you going to--
+where the devil is she running to now?"
+
+Believing the life of Martial menaced by the inhabitants of the
+island, La Louve, overcome with alarm, and transported with rage,
+listened no longer to the fisherman, but ran along the Seine.
+
+Some topographical details are indispensable to understand the
+following scene.
+
+The island approached nearer the left side of the river than the right
+shore, from whence Fleur-de-Marie and Mrs. Seraphin had embarked. La
+Louve was on the left side. Without being very steep, the hills on the
+island concealed, all its length, the view of one shore from the
+other. Thus, La Louve had not seen the embarkation of La Goualeusea,
+and the Martial family, of course, could not see her as she ran along
+the shore on the opposite side.
+
+We recall to the reader that the country-house belonging to Doctor
+Griffon, where the Count de Saint Remy temporarily dwelt, was built on
+the hillside, near the shore where La Louve was wandering,
+half-distracted.
+
+She passed, without seeing them, near two persons, who, struck with
+her haggard look, turned to follow her at a distance. These two
+persons were the Count de Saint Remy and Doctor Griffon.
+
+The first impulse of La Louve, on learning the peril of her lover, had
+been to run impetuously toward the place where she knew he was in
+danger. But as she approached the island, she thought of the
+difficulty of getting there. As the old fisherman had told her, she
+could not count on any strange boat, and no one from the Martial
+family would come for her.
+
+Breathless, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling, she stopped opposite
+a point of the island which, forming a curve at this place, was
+nearest to the mainland. Through the leafless branches of the willows
+and poplars, La Louve could see the roof of the house, where, perhaps,
+Martial was dying. At this sight, uttering a fearful groan, she tore
+off her shawl and cap, and slipping down her robe, keeping on her
+petticoat, she threw herself into the river, and waded until she lost
+her footing, when she began to swim vigorously toward the island.
+
+It was the climax of savage energy.
+
+At each stroke, the thick and long hair of La Louve, untied by the
+violence of her movements, shook about her head like a shaggy mane of
+copper color.
+
+Suddenly, from the other side of the island, resounded a cry of
+distress, of terrible, desperate agony. La Louve shuddered, and
+stopped short. Then, treading water, with one hand she pushed back her
+thick hair, and listened. A new cry was heard, but more feeble, more
+supplicating, convulsive, expiring and all relapsed into a profound
+silence. "My Martial!" cried La Louve, swimming again with all her
+strength. She thought she had recognized the voice of Martial.
+
+The count and doctor had not been able to follow La Louve quick enough
+to prevent what she accomplished. They arrived opposite to the island
+at the moment that the two fearful screams were heard, and stopped, as
+much alarmed as La Louve. Seeing her struggle intrepidly against the
+current, they cried, "The poor thing will be drowned!" These fears
+were vain; she swam like an otter; still a few more strokes, and she
+reached the land. She was getting out of the water by the assistance
+of the poles, which, as we have said, formed a breakwater at the end
+of the island, when she perceived the body of a young girl, dressed as
+a peasant, sustained by her clothes, floating down the current.
+
+To grasp with one hand the poles, and with the other to seize hold of
+the girl by her dress, such was the movement of La Louve, as rapid as
+thought. Then she drew her so violently toward her and within the
+stakes, that, for a moment, she disappeared under the water, which was
+of no great depth at this place.
+
+Endued with no common strength and address, La Louve raised up La
+Goualeuse (for it was she), whom she had not yet recognized, took her
+up in her robust arms, as one would have taken a child, made some
+steps in the water, and, finally, laid her on the green bank of the
+island.
+
+"Courage, courage!" cried M. de Saint Remy to her, as a witness, as
+well as Dr. Griffon, of this bold act. "We are going to cross the
+bridge, and will come to your aid in a boat." La Louve did not hear
+these words. Let us repeat, that from the right shore of the Seine,
+where Nicholas, Calabash, and their mother remained after the
+consummation of their horrible crime, nothing could be seen of the
+other side, owing to the height of the island. Fleur-de-Marie,
+suddenly drawn within the row of piles by La Louve, having plunged for
+a moment, and not reappearing to the sight of her murderers, they
+believed their victim drowned and ingulfed.
+
+Some few moments afterward, the current brought down another body, in
+an eddy, which La Louve did not perceive. It was the corpse of the
+notary's housekeeper. Dead--quite dead--this one.
+
+Nicholas and Calabash had as much interest as Jacques Ferrand to get
+rid of this witness, the accomplice of their new crime; so when the
+boat with the hole sunk with Fleur-de-Marie, Nicholas, springing into
+the boat of his sister, nearly upset it, and seizing a favorable
+moment, threw the housekeeper into the river, and dispatched her with
+the boat-hook.
+
+Out of breath and exhausted, La Louve, kneeling on the ground
+alongside of Fleur-de-Marie, recruited her strength, and examined the
+features of her whom she had rescued from death. Let her surprise be
+imagined when she recognized her companion of the prison, who had
+exercised upon her destiny an influence so rapid, so ameliorating. In
+her surprise, for a moment she forgot Martial.
+
+"La Goualeuse!" cried she.
+
+With bended body, leaning on her hands and knees, her hair disheveled,
+her clothes dripping with water, she contemplated the unhappy child,
+extended, almost expiring on the ground. Pale, inanimate, her eyes
+half open and without expression, her beautiful flaxen hair falling
+flat over her forehead, her blue lips, her small hands, already stiff
+and icy--one would have thought her dead. "La Goualeuse!" repeated La
+Louve, "what chance! I who came to tell my Martial the good and evil
+she had done me with her words and promises; the resolution that I had
+taken. Poor little thing! I find her here dead. But, no, no," cried La
+Louve, approaching still nearer to Fleur-de-Marie, and feeling an
+almost imperceptible breath escape from her mouth; "No! she breathes
+still! I have saved her from death! that has never happened to me
+before, to save any one. Ah! that does me good; it makes me warm. Yes,
+but my Martial I must save also. Perhaps, at this moment, he is
+expiring; his mother and brother are capable of killing him. Yet I
+cannot leave this poor little thing here. I will carry her to the
+widow's; she must take care of her, and show me Martial, or I will
+break everything--I will kill everybody! Oh! neither mother, brother,
+nor sister do I care for, when I know my Martial is there!"
+
+And immediately getting up, La Louve carried Fleur-de-Marie in her
+arms. With this light burden she ran toward the house, not doubting
+but that the widow and her daughter, notwithstanding their wickedness,
+would lend their assistance to Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+When she reached the highest part of the island, whence could be seen
+both shores of the Seine, Nicholas, his mother, and Calabash, were far
+off, going in all haste to Bras-Rouge's tavern.
+
+At this moment also, a man, who, concealed in the plaster-kiln, had
+invisibly assisted at this horrible tragedy, disappeared, believing,
+with the murderers, that the crime was executed. This man was Jacques
+Ferrand. One of Nicholas's boats was tied to a pile near the place
+where La Goualeuse and old Seraphin had embarked. Hardly had Jacques
+Ferrand left the plaster-kiln to return to Paris, than M. de Saint
+Remy and Dr. Griffon hastily crossed the Bridge of Asnieres, running
+toward the island, thinking to reach it by Nicholas's boat, which they
+had seen from afar.
+
+To her great surprise, on arriving at the house of the Ravageurs, La
+Louve found the door closed. Placing the still inanimate body of
+Fleur-de-Marie under the arbor, she drew near the house. She knew the
+window of Martial's chamber. What was her surprise, to see the
+shutters covered with iron plates, and fastened with bars of the same
+material!
+
+Suspecting partly the truth, La Louve uttered a hoarse, resounding cry
+and began to call with all her strength, "Martial! my love!"
+
+No one answered. Alarmed at this silence, La Louve began to walk
+around the building like a savage beast who scents his mate, and
+seeks, with roaring, the entrance of the den where he is confined.
+
+From time to time she cried, "My man--are you there, my man?" In her
+rage she shook the bars of the kitchen window--she knocked against the
+wall--she kicked against the door.
+
+All at once a hollow sound answered from the interior of the house. La
+Louve shuddered--listened. The noise ceased.
+
+"My man has heard me! I must enter, even if I have to gnaw the door
+with my teeth!" And again she uttered her savage cries.
+
+Several blows, feebly struck on the inside of the window shutters of
+Martial's room, answered to her shouts.
+
+"He is there!" cried she, stopping suddenly under her lover's window,
+"he is there! If needs must, I will tear off the iron shutters with my
+nails, but I will open them."
+
+So saying, she saw a large ladder placed behind one of the blinds of
+the lower rooms; in drawing this blind violently toward her, La Louve
+caused the key to fall which the widow had concealed on the window
+bench. "If it unlocks," said La Louve, trying the key in the lock, "I
+can go up to his chamber. It opens," cried she, with joy; "my friend
+is saved!"
+
+Once in the kitchen, she was struck by the cries of the children, who
+shut up in the cellar and hearing an extraordinary noise, called for
+help.
+
+The widow, believing no one would come to the island or house during
+her absence, had contented herself with locking Francois and Amandine
+in the cellar, leaving the key in the lock.
+
+Set at liberty by La Louve, the brother and sister rushed
+precipitately from the cellar, crying, "Oh, La Louve, save brother
+Martial! they wish to kill him; two days he has been walled up in his
+room."
+
+"They have not wounded him?"
+
+"No, no; we believe not."
+
+"I arrive in time!" cried La Louve, rushing to the staircase: then
+suddenly stopping, she said, "And La Goualeuse! whom I forgot.
+Amandine, some fire at once; you and your brother, bring here, near
+the chimney-place, a poor girl who was drowning. I saved her. She is
+under the arbor. Francois, a pair of pincers, a hatchet, an iron bar,
+so that I can break down the door of my Martial!"
+
+"Here is an ax to split wood, but it is too heavy for you," said the
+young boy.
+
+"Too heavy!" sneered La Louve, and she lifted with ease the iron mace,
+which, under any other circumstances, she could hardly have raised
+from the ground. Then, mounting the stairs four at a time, she
+repeated to the children, "Run and bring in the girl, and place her
+near the fire." In two bounds, La Louve was at the bottom of the
+corridor, at Martial's door. "Courage, my friend--here is your Louve!"
+cried she, and raising the ax with both hands, with a furious blow she
+shook the door.
+
+"It is nailed on the outside. Draw out the nails," cried Martial, in a
+feeble voice.
+
+Throwing herself on her knees in the corridor, with the aid of the
+pincers and of her nails, which she tore, and her fingers, which she
+cut, La Louve succeeded in drawing out the spikes which fastened the
+door. At length the door was opened. Martial, pale, his hands covered
+with blood, fell almost lifeless into the arms of his darling.
+
+"At length I see you! I hold you! I have you!" cried La Louve,
+receiving Martial in her arms with joy and savage energy; then
+sustaining him, almost carrying him, she led him to a seat placed in
+the corridor.
+
+During some moments Martial remained weak and feeble, endeavoring to
+recover from this violent shock, which had exhausted his failing
+strength. La Louve saved her lover at the moment when, in a state of
+despair, he felt himself about to die, less from the want of food than
+from the deprivation of air, impossible to be renewed in a small room
+without a chimney, without any aperture, and hermetically closed
+through the atrocious foresight of Calabash, who had stopped up with
+old linen even the smallest fissures of the door and window.
+
+Palpitating with happiness and anguish, her eyes wet with tears, La
+Louve, on her knees, watched the smallest movements of Martial. By
+degrees he seemed to recover, as he breathed the pure and salubrious
+air. After a slight shudder, he raised his weary head, uttered a long
+sigh, and opened his eyes.
+
+"Martial, it is I! your Louve; how do you feel?"
+
+"Better," answered he, in a feeble voice.
+
+"What will you have? water, vinegar?"
+
+"No, no," cried Martial, less and less oppressed. "Air! oh, some air!
+nothing but air!"
+
+La Louve, at the risk of cutting her hand, broke the glass of a window
+which she could not open without moving a heavy table.
+
+"Now I breathe! I breathe! my head is relieved," said Martial, coming
+quite to himself. Then, as if for the first time recalling to mind the
+services she had rendered him, he cried, in a tone of ineffable
+gratitude, "Without you, I should have died, my good Louve!"
+
+"Well, well; how are you now?"
+
+"Better and better."
+
+"Are you hungry?"
+
+"No, I am too weak. I suffered most from want of air; finally, I
+suffocated! it was frightful!"
+
+"And now?"
+
+"I live again! I come out from the tomb; and I come out--thanks to
+you."
+
+"But your hands, your poor hands! these wounds? Who did this?--curse
+them!"
+
+"Nicholas and Calabash, not daring to attack me openly a second time,
+shut me in my chamber, and left me to die with hunger. I tried to
+prevent them from nailing up my window--my sister cut my hands with
+the hatchet!"
+
+"The monsters! they wished to have it believed that you were dead from
+some sickness; your mother had already spread the report that you were
+in a dying state. Your mother, my man, your mother!"
+
+"Hold! do not speak to me of her," said Martial, bitterly; then, for
+the first time, remarking the wet clothes and strange attire of La
+Louve, he cried, "What has happened to you?--your hair is streaming
+with water. You are without your dress."
+
+"What matters it? You are saved--saved!"
+
+"But explain to me why you are wet."
+
+"I knew you were in danger--I could find no boat."
+
+"And you swam here?"
+
+"Yes. But your hands; let me kiss them. You suffer--the monsters! And
+I was not here!"
+
+"Oh! my brave Louve," cried Martial, with enthusiasm; "brave among all
+brave creatures."
+
+"Did you not write here 'death to dastards'?"
+
+And La Louve showed her arm, where these words were written in
+indelible characters.
+
+"Intrepid! But you feel the cold, you tremble."
+
+"It is not the cold."
+
+"Never mind. Go in there; take Calabash's cloak to wrap yourself in."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I wish it."
+
+In a second, La Louve was enveloped in a plaid cloak, and returned.
+
+"For me, to run the risk of drowning!" repeated Martial, looking at
+her with pride.
+
+"No risk! A poor girl was almost drowned. I saved her. On reaching the
+island--"
+
+"You saved her also--where is she?"
+
+"Below with the children; they are taking care of her."
+
+"And who is this young girl?"
+
+"If you knew what a chance--what happy chance! She was one of my
+chums in Saint Lazare--a very extraordinary girl, you be sure!"
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Imagine that I loved her and hated her because--she at the same time
+planted both death and happiness in my heart."
+
+"She?"
+
+"Yes; concerning you."
+
+"Me?"
+
+"Listen, Martial." Then, interrupting herself, she added, "No, no. I
+shall never dare."
+
+"What is it then?"
+
+"I wished to ask something of you. I came to see you on this account;
+for when I left Paris I did not know that you were in danger."
+
+"Well, speak."
+
+"I dare not."
+
+"You dare not--after what you have just done for me!"
+
+"Exactly; it would seem as if I asked a recompense."
+
+"Asked a recompense! And do I not owe you one? Did you not take care
+of me, night and day, during my sickness last year?"
+
+"Are you not my Martial?"
+
+"Then you should speak to me frankly, because I am your Martial, and
+will be always."
+
+"Always, Martial?"
+
+"Always! true as I am called Martial. For me, there shall be no other
+woman in the world but you, La Louve No matter what you have been--
+that's my lookout. I love you--you love me; and I owe my life to you.
+But since you have been in prison, I am no longer the same; much has
+happened; I have reflected; and you shall no more be what you have
+been."
+
+"What do you mean to say?"
+
+"I never wish to leave you again. Neither do I wish to leave Francois
+and Amandine."
+
+"Your little brother and sister?"
+
+"Yes; from this day I must be to them a father--you comprehend. This
+gives me duties to perform, and tames me. I am obliged to take charge
+of them. They wished to make finished thieves of them; to save them, I
+shall take them away."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"I don't know; but certainly far from Paris."
+
+"And me?"
+
+"You? I will take you also."
+
+"Take me also?" cried La Louve, in a joyous delirium. She could not
+believe in so much happiness. "I shall not leave you?"
+
+"No, my brave Louve, never. You shall aid me to bring up these
+children. I know you. On saying to you, I wish that my poor little
+Amandine should be a virtuous girl, I know what you will be for her; a
+good mother."
+
+"Oh! thank you, Martial, thank you!"
+
+"We will live as honest work-folks; be easy, we will find work; we
+will toil like negroes. At least, these children shall not be gallows'
+birds, like their father and mother. I shall not hear myself called
+any more the son and brother of a _guillotine_; in fine, I shall
+no more pass through the streets where I am known. But what is the
+matter?"
+
+"Martial, I am afraid I shall become crazy."
+
+"Crazy?"
+
+"Crazy with joy!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because this is too much."
+
+"What?"
+
+"What you ask me. Oh! it is too much. Saving the Goualeuse, this has
+brought me this happiness; it must be so."
+
+"But once more, what is the matter?"
+
+"What you have just said. Oh, Martial, Martial!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I came to ask you!"
+
+"To leave Paris?"
+
+"Yes," answered she, quickly; "to go with you in the woods, where we
+would have a nice little house, children whom I should love; oh! how I
+should love them! how your Louve would love the children of her
+Martial; or, rather, if you wished it," said La Louve, trembling, "I
+would call you my husband; for we shall not have the place unless you
+consent to this," she hastened to add, quickly.
+
+Martial, in his turn, looked at La Louve with astonishment, not in the
+least understanding her words. "Of what place do you speak?"
+
+"A gamekeeper's."
+
+"That I shall have?--and who will give it to me?"
+
+"The protectors of the girl whom I have saved."
+
+"Who is she, then?"
+
+I don't know; I can't understand anything; but in my life I have never
+seen, never heard anything like her; she is like a fairy to read what
+one has in the heart. When I told her how much I loved you, instantly,
+on that account, she became interested, not by using hard words (you
+know how I would have stood that), but by speaking to me of a very
+laborious, hard life, tranquilly passed with you according to your
+taste, in the midst of the forest; only, according to her idea,
+instead of being a poacher you were a gamekeeper, and I your wife; and
+then our children were to run to meet you when you returned at night
+from your rounds, with dogs, your gun on your shoulder; and then we
+should sup at the door of the cabin, in the cool of the evening, under
+the large trees; and then we would retire to rest so happy, so
+peaceful. What shall I say? in spite of myself I listened; it was like
+a charm. If you knew--she spoke so well, so well--that--all that she
+said, I thought I could see; I dreamed wide awake!"
+
+"Oh! yes; it would be a happy life," said Martial, sighing in his
+turn; "without being altogether black at heart, poor Francois has
+associated too much with Calabash and Nicholas; so that the good air
+of the woods will be much better for him than the air of the city.
+Amandine could help you in the house; I would be a good keeper, as I
+was a famous poacher. I should have you for a manager, my brave Louve;
+and then, as you say, with children, what should we need? When once
+one is accustomed to the forest, one is quite at home; a hundred years
+would pass as one day; but, see now, I am a fool. Hold! you should not
+have spoken to me of this life; it only causes regrets, that's all."
+
+"I let you go on, because you say exactly what I did to La Goualeuse."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Yes, in listening to these fairy tales, I said to her, 'What a pity
+that these castles in the air, La Goualeuse, are not the truth!' Do
+you know what she answered, Martial?" said La Louve, her eyes
+sparkling with joy.
+
+"No."
+
+"'Let Martial marry you; promise both of you to live an honest life,
+and this place, which causes you so much envy, I am almost sure to
+obtain for you on leaving the prison,' was her answer."
+
+"A gamekeeper's place for me?"
+
+"Yes, for you."
+
+"But you are right-it is a dream. If it only were needful that I
+should marry you to obtain this place, my brave Louve, it should be
+done to-morrow, if I had the means; for, from to-day you are my wife--
+my true wife."
+
+"Martial, I your real wife?"
+
+"My real, my sole wife, and I wish you to call me your husband--it is
+just the same as if the mayor had joined us."
+
+"Oh! La Goualeuse was right; it makes one so proud to say, 'My
+husband!' Martial--you shall see your Louve keeping house, at work!
+you shall see."
+
+"But this place--do you believe?"
+
+"Poor little Goualeuse, if she is deceived it is others' faults; for
+she appeared to believe what she told me. Besides, just now, on
+leaving the prison, the inspectress told me that the protectors of La
+Goualeuse, people of high rank, had taken her from the prison this
+very day: that proves that she has benefactors, and that she can do
+what she has promised."
+
+"Oh!" cried Martial, suddenly, rising from his seat, "I do not know
+what we are thinking about."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"This girl is below, dying, perhaps; and instead of helping her, we
+are here."
+
+"Be satisfied; Francois and Amandine are with her; they would have
+called us if there had been any danger. But you are right; let us go
+to her; you must see her, she to whom, perhaps, we shall owe our
+happiness." And Martial, leaning on the arm of La Louve, descended the
+stairs.
+
+Before they enter the kitchen, we will relate what passed since
+Fleur-de-Marie had been confided to the care of the children.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+DR. GRIFFON.
+
+
+Francois and Amandine had just carried Fleur-de-Marie into the kitchen
+near the fire, when Saint Remy and Dr. Griffon, who had crossed over
+in Nicholas's boat, entered the house. While the children stirred up
+the fire and threw on some dry fagots, which, soon kindling, gave out
+a cheerful blaze, Dr. Griffon exercised all his skill to restore the
+girl.
+
+"The poor child is hardly seventeen," cried the count, profoundly
+affected; then, turning toward the doctor, he said, "Well, what do you
+think, my friend?"
+
+"I can hardly feel the pulse; but, what is very singular, the skin of
+the face is not colored blue in this subject, as is ordinarily the
+case in asphyxia from submersion," answered the doctor with
+imperturbable coolness, looking at Fleur-de-Marie with an air
+profoundly meditative.
+
+Dr. Griffon was a tall, thin man, very pale, and completely bald,
+except two very scanty tufts of black hair, most carefully gathered
+from behind, and laid flat on his forehead; his face, wrinkled and
+furrowed by hard study, expressed intelligence reflection, and
+coldness.
+
+Of immense knowledge, of consummate experience, a skillful and
+renowned practitioner, principal physician of a large hospital, Dr.
+Griffon had but one defect--that of making, if we may express it, a
+complete oversight of the patient, and only attending to the disease:
+young or old, male or female, rich or poor, no matter; he thought only
+of the medical fact, more or less curious or interesting in a
+scientific point of view, which the _subject_ offered.
+
+For him there only existed _subjects_.
+
+"What a charming face! How handsome she is, notwithstanding this
+frightful pallor!" said Saint Remy, contemplating Fleur-de-Marie with
+sadness. "Have you ever seen, my dear doctor, features more regular or
+more lovely? And so young--so young!"
+
+"The age is nothing," said the physician, roughly; "no more than the
+presence of water in the lungs, which formerly was thought to be
+mortal. They were most grossly deceived: the admirable experiments of
+Goodwin, of the famous Goodwin, have proved it."
+
+"But, doctor--"
+
+"But it is a fact," answered M. Griffon, absorbed by the love of his
+art. "To ascertain the presence of a foreign liquid in the lungs,
+Goodwin plunged some cats and dogs into a tub of ink for some seconds,
+drew them out living, and dissected my gentlemen some time afterward.
+Well, he convinced himself that the ink had penetrated into the lungs,
+and that the presence of liquid in the organs of respiration does not
+cause death."
+
+The count knew the physician to be an excellent man at heart, but that
+his frenzied passion for the sciences often made him appear
+hard-hearted and almost cruel.
+
+"Have you, at least, any hope?" asked he, with impatience.
+
+"The extremities of the subject are very cold," said the doctor;
+"there is but little hope."
+
+"Oh, to die at her age, poor child--it is frightful!"
+
+"The pupil fixed, dilated," answered the immovable doctor, raising
+with his finger the moveless eyelid of Fleur-de-Marie.
+
+"Strange man," cried the count, almost with indignation; "one would
+think you without feeling; and yet I have seen you watch by my bedside
+night after night. If I had been your brother, you could not have been
+more devoted."
+
+The doctor, quite occupied in administering to Fleur-de-Marie,
+answered the count, without looking at him, and with settled calmness,
+"Do you believe that one meets every day with such a malignant fever,
+so marvelously complicated, so curious to study, as the one you had?
+It was admirable, my good friend, admirable! Stupor, delirium,
+twitchings of the sinews, syncopes--your deadly fever united the most
+varied symptoms. Your constitution was also a rare thing, very rare,
+and eminently interesting; you were also affected, in a partial and
+momentary manner, with paralysis. If it were only for this fact, your
+disease had a right to all my attention; you presented to me a
+magnificent study; for, frankly, my dear friend, all I desire in this
+world is to come across just such another fine case--but one has no
+such luck twice."
+
+[Illustration: FEELING FOR THE BEATING OF THE PULSE]
+
+The count shrugged his shoulders impatiently. It was at this moment
+that Martial descended, leaning on the arm of La Louve, who had, as
+the reader knows, thrown over her wet clothes a plaid cloak belonging
+to Calabash.
+
+Struck with the pale looks of the lover of La Louve, and remarking his
+hands covered with coagulated blood, the count cried, "Who is this
+man?"
+
+"_My husband!_" answered La Louve, looking at Martial with an
+expression of happiness and noble pride impossible to describe.
+
+"You have a good intrepid wife, sir," said the count to him. "I saw
+her save this unfortunate child with rare courage."
+
+"Oh, yes, sir; good and intrepid is _my wife!_" answered Martial,
+dwelling on the last words, and looking at La Louve in his turn with
+an air at once tender and affectionate. "Yes, intrepid; for she also
+saved my life!"
+
+"Yours!" said the astonished count.
+
+"See his hands, his poor hands!" said La Louve, wiping the tears which
+softened the indignant sparkling of her eyes.
+
+"Oh, this is horrible!" cried the count. "This poor fellow has had his
+hands literally chopped up. Look, doctor!"
+
+Turning his head slightly, and looking over his shoulder at the
+numerous wounds which Calabash had made, the doctor said, "Open and
+shut your hand."
+
+Martial executed this movement with much pain.
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders, continued to occupy himself with
+Fleur-de-Marie, and said disdainfully, and as if with regret, "Those
+wounds are absolutely nothing serious. None of the tendons are
+injured; in a week the subject can use his hands."
+
+"Then, sir, my husband will not be a cripple?" cried La Louve with
+gratitude.
+
+The doctor shook his head.
+
+"And La Goualeuse will live, will she not?" asked La Louve. "Oh, she
+must live, my husband and I owe her so much!" Then turning toward
+Martial, "Poor little thing! There is she of whom I spoke--she who
+perhaps will be the cause of our happiness--she who gave me the idea
+of telling you all I have said. See what chance has done, that I
+should save her--and here too!"
+
+"She is our Providence!" said Martial, struck with the beauty of La
+Goualeuse. "What an angelic face! Oh, she will live! will she not,
+doctor?"
+
+"I don't know," answered the physician; "but, in the first place, she
+ought to remain here. Can she have the necessary attentions?"
+
+"Here!" cried La Louve. "Why, they murder here!"
+
+"Hush, hush!" said Martial.
+
+The count and doctor looked at La Louve with surprise.
+
+"This house has a bad reputation; it surprises me the less," whispered
+the physician to Saint Remy.
+
+"You have, then, been the victim of violence?" asked the count. "Who
+wounded you in this manner?" "It is nothing, sir. I had a dispute
+here, a fight ensued, and I have been wounded. But this girl cannot
+remain in the house," added he, in a gloomy manner. "I shall not
+remain myself, neither my wife nor my brother, nor my sister. We leave
+the island never to return."
+
+"Oh, what joy!" cried both the children.
+
+"Then what must we do?" said the doctor, regarding Fleur-de-Marie. "It
+is impossible to think of transporting this subject in this state of
+prostration. Yet, happily, my house is close at hand, and my
+gardener's wife and daughter will make excellent nurses. Since this
+asphyxia from submersion interests you, you can overlook her
+attendants, my dear Saint Remy, and I will come and see her every
+day."
+
+"And you play the part of a hard-hearted, unmerciful man," cried the
+count, "when you have a most generous heart, as this proposition
+proves."
+
+"If the subject sinks, as is possible, there will be a most
+interesting autopsy, which will allow me to confirm once more the
+assertions of Goodwin."
+
+"What you say is frightful!" said the count.
+
+"For him who knows how to read it, the human body is a book where one
+learns to save the life of the sick," said Dr. Griffon, stoically.
+
+"However, you do good," said Saint Remy, bitterly; "that is the
+important thing. What matters the cause, as long as the benefit
+exists! Poor child, the more I look at her, the more she interests
+me."
+
+"And she deserves it, sir," cried La Louve, passionately, drawing
+near.
+
+"You know her?" said the count.
+
+"Know her, sir? To her I owe the happiness of my life; in saving her I
+have not done as much for her as she has done for me."
+
+"And who is she?" asked the count.
+
+"An angel, sir; all that is good in the world. Yes, although she is
+dressed as a peasant girl there is not a grand lady who can talk as
+well as she can, with her soft little voice, just like music. She is a
+noble girl, and courageous and good."
+
+"How did she fall in the water?"
+
+"I do not know, sir."
+
+"She is not a peasant girl, then?" asked the count.
+
+"A peasant girl! Look at her small white hands, sir!"
+
+"It is true," said Saint Remy. "What a singular mystery! But her name,
+her family?"
+
+"Come," said the doctor, interrupting the conversation, "the subject
+must be carried to the boat."
+
+Half an hour afterward, Fleur-de-Marie, who had not yet recovered her
+senses, was taken to the physician's house, placed in a warm bed, and
+maternally watched by the gardener's wife, assisted by La Louve. The
+doctor promised Saint Remy, who was more and more interested in La
+Goualeuse, to return the same evening to visit her.
+
+Martial went to Paris with Francois, and Amandine, La Louve not being
+willing to leave Fleur-de-Marie until she was out of danger.
+
+The island remained deserted. We shall soon meet with its wretched
+occupants at Bras-Rouge's, where they had agreed to meet La Chouette,
+to murder the diamond dealer.
+
+In the meanwhile we would conduct the reader to the appointment that
+Tom, the brother of the Countess Macgregor, had made with the horrible
+old woman, the Schoolmaster's accomplice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THE LIKENESS.
+
+
+Thomas Seyton walked impatiently up and down on one of the boulevards,
+near the Observatory, till he saw La Chouette appear.
+
+The old wretch had on a white cap, and was wrapped up in a large red
+plaid shawl; the point of a very sharp dagger stuck through the bottom
+of the straw basket which she carried on her arm; but Tom did not
+perceive it.
+
+"Three o'clock is striking from the Luxembourg," said the old woman.
+"I am punctual, I think?"
+
+"Come," answered Seyton; and walking before her, he crossed some waste
+ground, entered a deserted street situated near the Rue Cassini,
+stopped about the middle of the passage, where it was obstructed by a
+turnstile, opened a small gate, made a sign for La Chouette to follow
+him, and, after having taken a few steps in an alley shaded with large
+trees, said, "Wait here," and disappeared.
+
+"I hope he won't make me lose too much time," said La Chouette; "I
+must be at Bras-Rouge's at five, to settle the broker. Ah! speaking of
+that, my scoundrelly needle has his nose out of the window," added the
+old woman, seeing the point of the dagger sticking through the basket.
+"So much for not having put on his cap." And taking it from the
+basket, she placed it in such a manner that it was completely
+concealed.
+
+"It is a tool of my man's," said she. "Did he not ask me for it to
+kill the rats, which come and laugh at him in his cellar? Poor
+beasts!--not for him. They have only the old blind man to divert them,
+and keep them company! The least they can do is to nibble him a
+little. Hence I don't wish him to do any harm to the small deer, and I
+keep the tickler. Besides, I shall soon want it for the broker,
+perhaps. Thirty thousand francs' worth of diamonds--a treasure for
+each of us! A good day's work; not like the other day. That fool of a
+notary whom I wanted to pluck--I did threaten him, if he would not
+give me money, to inform that it was his housekeeper who gave me La
+Goualeuse, through Tournemine, when she was quite small; but nothing
+frightens him. He called me an old liar, and turned me out of doors.
+Good, good--I will have a letter written to those people at the farm,
+where Pegriotte was sent, and inform them it was the notary who
+abandoned her. They know, perhaps, her family, and when she leaves
+Saint Lazare, it will be hot work for this hound of a Ferrand. But
+some one comes--a little pale lady whom I have seen before," added La
+Chouette, seeing Sarah appear at the other end of the alley. "Some
+more business to be done; it must be on account of this little lady
+that we carried La Goualeuse away from the farm. If she pays well for
+anything new, I'm on it, safe!"
+
+On approaching La Chouette, whom she saw for the first time since a
+previous meeting, the countenance of Sarah expressed that disdain
+which people of a certain class feel when they are obliged to come in
+contact with wretches whom they use as instruments or accomplices.
+
+Seyton, who until now had actively assisted the criminal machinations
+of his sister, considering them useless, had refused to continue this
+miserable game, consenting, nevertheless, to grant his sister, for the
+last time, an interview with La Chouette, without wishing to take part
+in any new schemes.
+
+Having been unable to bring Rudolph back to her by breaking the ties
+which she thought dear to him, the countess hoped, as we have said, to
+render him the dupe of an infamous trick, the success of which might
+realize the dream of this opinionated, ambitious, and cruel woman. It
+was in contemplation to persuade Rudolph that the daughter, whom he
+had supposed dead, was alive, and to substitute some orphan in the
+place of his daughter.
+
+The reader knows that Jacques Ferrand, having formally refused to
+enter into this plot, in spite of Sarah's threats, had resolved to
+make away with Fleur-de-Marie, as much from dread of the revelations
+of La Chouette, as from fear of the countess. But she had not
+renounced her designs, for she was almost certain of corrupting or
+intimidating the notary, when she had secured a girl capable of
+playing the part designed for her.
+
+After a moment's silence, Sarah said to La Chouette, "Are you adroit,
+discreet, and resolute?"
+
+"Adroit as a monkey, resolute as a dog, dumb as a fish; there's La
+Chouette, just as the devil has made her, ready to serve you if she is
+capable--and she is rather," answered the hag in a lively manner. "I
+hope we have famously decoyed the young country girl, who is safely
+fastened up in Saint Lazare for two good months."
+
+"The question is no longer of her, but of other things."
+
+"As you wish, my little lady. As long as there is money at the end of
+what you are about to propose, we shall be like two fingers of a
+hand."
+
+Sarah could not suppress a movement of disgust. "You must know," said
+she, "some common people--some unfortunate family."
+
+"There are more of them than millionaires; plenty to pick from; there
+is a rich misery in Paris."
+
+"You must find for me a young orphan girl, one who lost her parents
+very early. She must be of an agreeable face, of a sweet temper, and
+not more than seventeen."
+
+La Chouette looked at Sarah with astonishment.
+
+"Such an orphan cannot be difficult to find," resumed the countess;
+"there are so many foundlings."
+
+"My little lady, have you not forgotten La Goualeuse? Just what you
+want."
+
+"Whom do you mean by La Goualeuse?"
+
+"The young person whom we carried off from Bouqueval."
+
+"I tell you, we have nothing to do with her!"
+
+"But listen to me, then; and above all, reward me with good advice;
+you wish an orphan, as gentle as a lamb, beautiful as day, and not
+seventeen."
+
+"Without doubt."
+
+"Well, then, take La Goualeuse when she comes out of Saint Lazare;
+just what you want--as if made to order; for she was only six years
+old when Jacques Ferrand (about ten years ago) gave her to me, with a
+thousand francs, to get rid of her. It was a man named Tournemine, now
+in the galleys at Rochefort, who brought her to me, saying, that she
+was doubtless a child they wanted to get rid of, or pass for dead."
+
+"Jacques Ferrand, say you!" cried Sarah, in a voice so changed that La
+Chouette stepped back with alarm. "The notary, Jacques Ferrand,"
+repeated she, "gave you this child, and"--she could not finish. Her
+emotion was too violent; with her hands stretched toward La Chouette,
+trembling violently, surprise and joy were expressed on her
+countenance.
+
+"But I did not know you were going to fire up in this manner, my
+little lady," said the old woman. "Yet it is very plain. Ten years
+ago, an old acquaintance, Toarnemine, said to me, 'Do you wish to take
+charge of a little girl that some one wants to get rid of? If she
+lives or dies, all the same there is a thousand francs to gain; you
+may do with the child what you please.'"
+
+"Ten years ago?" cried Sarah.
+
+"Ten years."
+
+"Fair?"
+
+"Fair."
+
+"With blue eyes?"
+
+"With blue eyes, blue as bluebells."
+
+"And it is she who, at the farm--"
+
+"We packed up for Saint Lazare. I must say that I did not expect to
+find her there."
+
+"Oh! heaven!" cried Sarah, falling on her knees, and raising her hands
+and eyes toward heaven; "your ways are impenetrable. I bow before
+mysterious Providence. Oh! if such happiness were possible--but no, I
+cannot believe it; it would be too much--no!" Then, suddenly rising,
+she said to La Chouette, who looked at her with amazement, "Come."
+
+She walked before the hag with hurried steps. At the end of the alley,
+she ascended some steps leading to the glass door of a cabinet,
+sumptuously furnished.
+
+At the moment when La Chouette was about to enter, Sarah made her a
+sign to remain without. Then she rung the bell violently. A servant
+appeared.
+
+"I am not at home to any one--let no one in, do you understand?
+absolutely no one."
+
+The domestic retired, and to be more secure the lady locked the door.
+
+La Chouette heard the orders given to the servant, and saw Sarah lock
+the door. The countess, turning to her, said, "Come in quickly, and
+shut the door."
+
+La Chouette obeyed. Hastily opening a secretary, Sarah took from it an
+ebony casket, which she placed on a desk in the middle of the room,
+and made a sign for La Chouette to come near her. The casket contained
+many jewel-boxes placed one on the other, inclosing magnificent
+ornaments.
+
+Sarah was so impatient to reach the bottom of the casket, that she
+threw out on the table the boxes, splendidly furnished with necklaces,
+bracelets, and diadems, where rubies, emeralds, and diamonds sparkled
+with a thousand fires. La Chouette was astonished. She was armed, she
+was shut up alone with the countess, her flight was easy, secure. An
+infernal idea crossed the mind of this monster. But to execute this
+new misdeed, she had to get her poniard from the basket, and draw near
+to Sarah, without exciting her suspicions. With the cunning of a
+tiger-cat, who crawls treacherously on its prey, the old woman
+profited by the pre-occupation of the countess to steal round the
+bureau which separated her from her victim. She had already commenced
+this treacherous evolution, when she was obliged to stop suddenly.
+Sarah drew a medallion from the bottom of the box, leaned on the
+table, handed it to La Chouette with a trembling hand, and said, "Look
+at this portrait."
+
+"It is La Pegriotte!" cried La Chouette, struck with the great
+likeness; "the little girl who was given to me; I see her as she was
+when Tournemine brought her to me. There is her thick curly hair which
+I cut off at once, and sold well, ma foi!"
+
+"You recognize her? Oh! I conjure you do not deceive me!"
+
+"I tell you, my little lady, that it is La Pegriotte; it is as if I
+could see her before me," said La Chouette, trying to approach Sarah
+without being remarked; "even now she looks like this portrait. If you
+saw her, you would be struck with it."
+
+Sarah had experienced no sorrow, no fright on learning that her child
+had, during ten years, lived miserable and abandoned. No remorse on
+thinking that she herself had torn her from the peaceful retreat where
+Rudolph had placed her. This unnatural mother did not at once
+interrogate La Chouette with terrible anxiety as to the past life of
+her child. No; ambition with Sarah had for a long time stifled
+maternal tenderness.
+
+It was not joy at finding her daughter which transported her, it was
+the certain hope of seeing realized the proud dream of all her life.
+Rudolph was interested for this unfortunate creature, had protected
+without knowing her, what would be his joy when he discovered her to
+be his child! He was single, the countess a widow--Sarah already saw
+glisten before her eyes a sovereign's crown. La Chouette, still
+advancing with cautious steps, had already reached one end of the
+table, and placed her dagger perpendicularly in her basket, the handle
+close to the opening, quite ready. She was only a few steps from the
+countess, when the latter suddenly said, "Do you know how to write?"
+And pushing back with her hand the boxes and jewels, she opened a
+blotter placed before an inkstand.
+
+"No, madame, I cannot write," answered La Chouette at all hazard.
+
+"I am going to write then, from your dictation. Tell me all the
+circumstances attending the abandonment of this little girl." And
+Sarah, seating herself in an armchair before the desk, took a pen and
+made a motion for the old woman to draw near to her.
+
+The eyes of La Chouette twinkled. At length she was standing erect
+alongside of Sarah's seat. She, bending over the table, prepared to
+write.
+
+"I will read aloud slowly," said the countess, "you will correct my
+mistakes."
+
+"Yes, madame," answered La Chouette, watching every movement.
+
+Then she slipped her right hand into her basket, so as to take hold of
+the dagger without being seen. The lady began to write, "I declare
+that--"
+
+But interrupting herself, and turning toward La Chouette, who already
+had hold of the handle of her dagger, Sarah added, "At what time was
+this child delivered to you?"
+
+"In the month of February, 1827."
+
+"By whom?" asked Sarah, with her face still turned toward La Chouette.
+
+"By Pierre Tournemine, now in the galleys at Rochefort. Mrs. Seraphin,
+housekeeper of the notary, gave the little girl to him."
+
+The countess turned to write and read in a loud voice: "I declare that
+in the month of February, 1827, a man named--"
+
+La Chouette had drawn out her dagger. Already she raised it to strike
+her victim between the shoulders. Sarah again turned.
+
+La Chouette, not to be discovered, placed her right arm on the back of
+the chair, and leaned toward her to answer her new question.
+
+"I have forgotten the name of the man who confided the child to you."
+
+"Pierre Tournemine," answered La Chouette.
+
+"Pierre Tournemine," repeated Sarah, continuing to write--"now in the
+galleys at Rochefort, placed in my hands a child who had been confided
+to him by the housekeeper of--"
+
+The countess could not finish. La Chouette, after having softly
+disencumbered herself of the basket by dropping it on the ground, had
+thrown herself on the countess with as much rapidity as fury; with her
+left hand she caught her by the throat, and holding her face down to
+the table, she had, with her right hand, planted the dagger between
+the shoulders.
+
+This horrible deed was executed so quickly that the countess did not
+utter a single cry or groan. Still seated, she remained with her face
+on the table. The pen had fallen from her hand.
+
+"The same blow as Fourline gave the little old man in the Rue du
+Roule," said the monster. "Another one who will talk no more--her
+account is made."
+
+And gathering in haste the jewels, which she threw into her basket,
+she did not perceive that her victim still breathed.
+
+The murder and robbery accomplished, the horrible old woman opened the
+glass-door, disappeared rapidly in the green alley, went out by the
+small door, and reached the waste ground. Near the Observatory, she
+took a cab, which conveyed her to Bras-Rouge's. Widow Martial,
+Nicholas, Calabash, and Barbillon had, as the reader knows, made an
+appointment to meet La Chouette in this den, to rob and kill the
+diamond broker.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THE DETECTIVE.
+
+
+The "Bleeding Heart Tavern" was situated on the Champs Elysees, near
+the Cours la Reine, in one of the vast moats which bounded this
+promenade some years since. The inhabitants of the island had not yet
+appeared. Since the departure of Bradamanti, who had accompanied the
+step-mother of Madame d'Harville to Normandy, Tortillard had returned
+to his father's house.
+
+Placed as lookout on the top of the staircase leading down to the inn,
+the little cripple was to notify the arrival of the Martials by a
+concerted signal, Bras-Rouge being then in secret conference with
+Narcisse Borel, a police-officer.
+
+This man, about forty years, strong and thickset, had his skin
+stained, a sharp and piercing eye, and face completely shaved, so as
+to be able to assume the different disguises necessary to his
+dangerous expeditions; for it was often necessary for him to unite the
+sudden transformations of a comedian with the energy and courage of
+the soldier, to surprise certain bandits whom he was obliged to match
+in courage and determination. Narcisse Borel was, in a word, one of
+the most useful, the most active instruments of the providence, on a
+small scale, modestly and vulgarly called the police.
+
+Let us return to the interview between Borel and Bras-Rouge. Their
+conversation seemed very animated.
+
+"Yes," said the plain-clothes constable, "you are accused of profiting
+by your position in a double manner, by taking part with impunity in
+the robberies of a band of very dangerous malefactors, and of giving
+false information concerning them to the police. Take care, Bras-Rouge;
+if this should be proved, they would have no mercy on you."
+
+"Alas! I know I am accused of this; and it is afflicting, my good M.
+Narcisse," replied Bras-Rouge, giving to his weasel face an expression
+of hypocritical sorrow. "But I hope that to-day they will render me
+justice, and that my good faith will be certainly acknowledged."
+
+"We shall see."
+
+"How can I be suspected? Have I not given proofs? Was it not I--yes or
+no--who, in time past secured you Ambrose Martial, one of the most
+dangerous malefactors in Paris? For, as it is said, that runs in his
+race, and the Martials come from below, where they will soon return."
+
+"All this is very fine; but Ambrose was informed that he was about to
+be arrested; if I had not advanced the hour indicated by you, he would
+have escaped."
+
+"Do you believe me capable, M. Narcisse, of having secretly given him
+information of your intentions?"
+
+"All I know is, that I received a pistol shot from the rascal, which,
+very fortunately, only went through my arm."
+
+"Marry! M. Narcisse, it is very certain that in your calling one is
+exposed to such mistakes."
+
+"Oh! you call that a mistake?"
+
+"Certainly; for doubtless the scoundrel wanted to plant the ball in
+your body."
+
+"In the arms, body, or head, no matter; it is not of that I complain;
+every trade has its offsets."
+
+"And its pleasures also, M. Narcisse; and its pleasures! For instance,
+when a man as cunning, as adroit, as courageous as you are, is for a
+long time on the tracks of a nest of robbers; follows them from place
+to place--from house to house, with a good bloodhound like your
+servant Bras-Rouge, and he succeeds in getting them into a trap from
+which not one can escape, acknowledge, M. Narcisse, that there is
+great pleasure in it--a huntsman's joy--without counting the service
+rendered to justice," added the landlord of the "Bleeding Heart."
+
+"I should be of your opinion, if the bloodhound was faithful, but I am
+afraid he is not."
+
+"Oh! M. Narcisse, can you think--"
+
+"I think that instead of putting us on the scent, you amuse yourself
+by deceiving us, and you abuse the confidence placed in you. Every day
+you promise to aid us to place our hands on the band; that day never
+comes."
+
+"What if this day comes to-day, M. Narcisse, as I am sure it will; and
+if I let you pick up Barbillon, Nicholas Martial, the widow, her
+daughter, and La Chouette, will it be a good haul or not? Will you
+still suspect me?"
+
+"No; and you will have rendered real service; for we have against this
+band strong presumptions, almost certain suspicions, but,
+unfortunately, no proofs."
+
+"Hold a moment--caught in the very act, allowing you to nab them so,
+will aid furiously to display their cards, M. Narcisse?"
+
+"Doubtless; and you assure me you are not in the plan they have on
+hand?"
+
+"No, on my honor. It is La Chouette who came and proposed to me to
+entice the broker here, when she learned through my son, that Morel,
+the lapidary, who lived in the Rue du Temple, cut real instead of
+false stones, and that Mother Mathieu had often about her jewels of
+value. I accepted the affair, proposing for La Chouette to add
+Barbillon and the Martials, so as to have the whole gang in hand."
+
+"And what of the Schoolmaster, this man so dangerous, so strong, and
+so ferocious, who was always with La Chouette? one of the old hands of
+the Lapin Blanc?"
+
+"The Schoolmaster?" said Bras-Rouge, feigning astonishment.
+
+"Yes, a galley-slave escaped from Rochefort, named Anselme Duresnel,
+condemned for life. He has disfigured himself so as not to be
+recognized. Have you no information of him?"
+
+"None," answered Bras-Rouge, intrepidly, who had his reasons for this
+falsehood, for the Schoolmaster was then shut up in one of the cellars
+of the tavern.
+
+"There is every reason to believe that the Schoolmaster is the author
+of some late murders. It would be an important capture. For six weeks
+past, no one knows what has become of him."
+
+"Thus we are reproached for having lost sight of him. Always
+reproaches, M. Narcisse! always."
+
+"Not without reason. How's your smuggling?"
+
+"Must I not know all sorts of folks, smugglers as well as anybody
+else, to put you on the scent? I informed you of the pipe which,
+beginning outside of the Barriere du Trone, ended in a house in the
+street, to introduce untaxed liquor."
+
+"I know all that," said Narcisse, interrupting Bras-Rouge; but for one
+you denounce, you let, perhaps, ten escape, and you continue your
+trade with impunity. I am sure you feed out of two mangers, as the
+saying is."
+
+"Oh! M. Narcisse, I am incapable of such dishonest hunger."
+
+"And this is not all. In the Rue du Temple, No. 17, lives one Burette,
+pawnbroker, who is accused of being your private receiver."
+
+"What would you have me do, M. Borel? one says so many things, the
+world is so wicked. Once more I say, I must mix with the greatest
+number of scoundrels possible. I must even do as they do, worse than
+they, to avoid suspicions; but it cuts me to the heart to imitate
+them--to the heart--I must be well devoted to the service to follow
+such a trade."
+
+"Poor dear man! I pity you with all my heart."
+
+"You laugh, M. Borel. But if all these stories are believed, why do
+they not pay Mother Burette and myself a visit?"
+
+"You know well why--not to startle these bandits whom you have for so
+long a time promised to deliver to us."
+
+"And I am going to deliver them to you, M. Narcisse; in one hour's
+time you shall have them bound, and without much trouble, for there
+are three women. Barbillon and Nicholas Martial are as ferocious as
+tigers, but cowardly as chickens."
+
+"Tigers or chickens," said Borel, opening his long riding coat and
+showing the butt-ends of two pistols, which stuck out of his trousers
+pockets, "I have something here to serve them."
+
+"You will do well to take two of your men with you, M. Borel; when
+they find themselves cornered, the greatest cowards become sometimes
+tigers."
+
+"I will place two of my men in the little lower room, alongside of the
+one where you will put the broker. At the first cry, I will appear at
+one door, my two men at the other."
+
+"You must make haste, for the band may arrive any moment, M. Borel."
+
+"So be it; I go to place my men. I hope it will not be for nothing
+this time."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the concerted signal. Bras-Rouge
+looked out of a window to see whom Tortillard announced.
+
+"Look! here is La Chouette, already! Well! do you believe me now, M.
+Narcisse?"
+
+"This is something, but not all; we shall see. I go to place my men."
+
+The detective disappeared through a side door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+SCREECH-OWL.
+
+
+Her rapidity of step, the ferocious ardor of a desire for rapine and
+murder which she still possessed, had flushed her hideous visage; her
+one green eye sparkled with savage joy.
+
+Tortillard followed her, jumping and limping. Just as she was
+descending the last steps of the stairs, the son of Bras-Rouge,
+through a wicked frolic, placed his foot on the trailing folds of La
+Chouette's dress. This caused the old woman to stumble; not being able
+to catch hold of the balusters, she fell on her knees, her hands both
+stretched out, abandoning her precious basket, from whence escaped a
+golden bracelet set with diamonds and fine pearls. La Chouette,
+having, in her fall, excoriated her fingers a little, picked up the
+bracelet, which had not escaped the quick eyesight of Tortillard, rose
+and threw herself furiously on the little cripple, who approached her
+with a hypocritical air, saying, "Oh! bless us! your foot slipped!"
+
+Without answering, La Chouette seized him by the hair, and, stooping
+down, bit him in the cheek; the blood spurted from the wound. Strange
+as it may appear, Tortillard, notwithstanding his wickedness, and the
+great pain he endured, uttered not a complaint nor cry. He wiped his
+bleeding face, and said, with a forced laugh:
+
+"I would rather you would not kiss me so hard another time, La
+Chouette."
+
+"Wicked little devil, why did you step on my gown to make me fall?"
+
+"I? Oh, now! I swear to you that I did not do it on purpose, my good
+Chouette; as if your little Tortillard would wish to hurt you; he
+loves you too well for that. You did well to beat him, affront him,
+bite him; he is attached to you like a poor little dog to his master,"
+said the child in a caressing and coaxing voice.
+
+Deceived by the hypocrisy, La Chouette answered, "Very well! if I have
+bitten you wrongfully, it shall be punishment for some other time,
+when you have deserved it. Come, to-day I bear no malice. Where is
+your cheat of a father?"
+
+"In the house; shall I call him?"
+
+"No; have the Martials come yet?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Then I have time to go and see my man; I want to speak to old
+No-eyes."
+
+"Are you going to the cellar?" asked Tortillard, hardly concealing his
+diabolical joy.
+
+"What is that to you?"
+
+"To me?"
+
+"Yes; you asked me that in such a droll way."
+
+"Because I thought of something funny."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That you must have brought a pack of cards along to amuse him,"
+answered Tortillard, in a cunning manner; "it will be a little change
+for him; he only plays at biting with the rats; in that game he always
+wins, and in the end it tires him."
+
+La Chouette laughed violently at this witticism, and said to the
+little cripple, "Mamma's little monkey. I do not know a blackguard
+that is more wicked than you are. You little rogue, go, get me a
+candle; you shall light me down, help me to open his door; you know
+that I can't move it alone."
+
+"Oh, no, it is too dark in the cellar," said Tortillard, shaking his
+head.
+
+"How? you, as wicked as the devil, a coward; I would like to see that!
+Come, go quick, and say to your father, I will soon return; that I am
+with my pet; that we are talking about the publication of our bans of
+marriage," added the monster, chuckling. "Come, make haste, you shall
+be groomsman, and if you are a good boy, you shall have my garter."
+
+Tortillard went to get a light, and La Chouette, elated with the
+success of her robbery, amused herself while he was gone in handling
+the precious jewels in her basket. It was to conceal temporarily this
+treasure that she wished to visit the Schoolmaster in his cellar, and
+not to torment, as was her usual custom, her victim. We will mention
+presently why, with the consent of Bras-Rouge, La Chouette had
+confined the Schoolmaster in the subterranean hole.
+
+Tortillard, holding a light, reappeared at the cellar door. La
+Chouette followed him to the lower room, into which opened the large
+trap-door already described.
+
+The son of Bras-Rouge, protecting his light with the hollow of his
+hand, and preceding the old woman, descended slowly a flight of steep
+stone steps, leading to the entrance of the cellar.
+
+Arrived at the foot, Tortillard appeared to hesitate about following
+La Chouette.
+
+"Well! lazybones, go on," said she, turning round.
+
+"It is so dark, and besides, you go so fast, La Chouette; I'd rather
+go back, and leave you the candle."
+
+"And the door, imbecile? Can I open it alone! Will you go on?"
+
+"No, I am too much afraid."
+
+"If I come to you, take care."
+
+"Oh, now you threaten me, I'll go back."
+
+And he retreated a few steps.
+
+"Well! listen; be a good boy," answered La Chouette, restraining her
+anger, "I will give you something."
+
+"Very well," said the boy, drawing near, "speak so to me, and you will
+make me do all you can wish, Mother Chouette."
+
+"Look alive, I am in a hurry."
+
+"Yes, but promise that you will let me torment the Schoolmaster."
+
+"Some other day; now I have no time."
+
+"Only a little; just to make him foam."
+
+"Some other time, I say; I must return at once."
+
+"Why, then, do you open the door of his prison?"
+
+"None of your business. Come, now, will you finish? The Martials,
+perhaps, are already above; I want to speak to them. Be a good boy,
+and you sha'n't be sorry; go on."
+
+"I must love you well, La Chouette, for you can make me do just as you
+please," said Tortillard, advancing slowly. The trembling, sickly
+light of the candle, only made darkness visible in this gloomy
+passage, reflecting the black shadow of the hideous boy on the green
+and crumbling walls streaming with humidity.
+
+At the end of the passage, through the obscurity, could be perceived
+the low, broken arch of the entrance to the cellar, its heavy door
+secured with bands of iron, and contrasting strongly in the shade with
+the plaid shawl and white bonnet of La Chouette.
+
+With their united efforts, the door opened, creaking, on its rusty
+hinges. A puff of humid vapor escaped from this hole, which was as
+dark as night.
+
+The candle, placed on the ground, cast a ray of light on the first
+steps of the stone staircase, while the lower part was lost in total
+obscurity.
+
+A cry, or rather a savage howl, came up from the depths of the cellar.
+
+"Oh, there is my darling, who says 'good-day' to his mamma," said La
+Chouette, ironically; and she descended a few steps to conceal her
+prize in some corner.
+
+"I am hungry!" cried the Schoolmaster, in a voice trembling with rage;
+"do you mean I am to die here like a mad beast?"
+
+"You are hungry, poor puss!" said La Chouette, shouting with laughter.
+"Well, suck your thumb!"
+
+The noise of a chain shaken violently was heard; then a sigh of
+restrained rage.
+
+"Take care! take care! you will hurt your leg, poor dear papa!" said
+Tortillard.
+
+"The child is right; keep quiet, old pal," said the old woman; "the
+chain and rings are strong, old No-eyes; they come from old Micou, who
+only sells first rate articles. It is your own fault; for why did you
+allow yourself to be tied when you were asleep? Afterward there was
+nothing to be done, but to slip on the chain, and bring you down here,
+in this nice cool place, to preserve you, my sweet!"
+
+"It's a shame--he'll grow mouldy," said Tortillard.
+
+The chains were heard rattling anew.
+
+"Oh, oh! he jumps like a ladybird, tied by the paw," cried the old
+woman. "I think I can see him."
+
+"Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home! your house is on fire, and the
+Schoolmaster is burning!" chanted Tortillard.
+
+This variation augmented the hilarity of La Chouette. Having placed
+her basket in a hole under one of the steps, she said, "Look here, my
+man."
+
+"He does not see," answered Tortillard.
+
+"The boy is right. Ah, well! Do you hear? You should not have hindered
+me, when we returned from the farm, from washing Pegriotte's face with
+vitriol. You should not have played the good dog, simpleton. And then,
+to talk of your conscience, which was becoming prudish. I saw that
+your cake was all dough; that some day or other you might peach,
+Mister Eyeless, and then--"
+
+"Old No-eyes will nip you, Screech-Owl, for he is hungry," cried
+Tortillard, suddenly, pushing, with all his strength, the old woman by
+the back.
+
+La Chouette fell forward, uttering a dreadful imprecation, and rolled
+to the foot of the steps.
+
+"Lick 'em, Towser! La Chouette is yours! Jump on her, old man," added
+Tortillard.
+
+Then, seizing hold of the basket, which he had seen the old woman
+hide, he ran up the stairs precipitately, crying with savage joy,
+"There is a push worth double what I gave you a while ago, La
+Chouette! This time you can't bite me. Oh! you thought I didn't care;
+thank you, I bleed still."
+
+"I have her, oh, I have her!" cried the Schoolmaster from the depths
+of the cellar.
+
+"If you have her, old man, fair play," said the boy, chuckling, as he
+stopped on the top step of the staircase.
+
+"Help!" cried La Chouette, in a strangled voice.
+
+"Thank you, Tortillard," answered the Schoolmaster; "thank you," and he
+uttered an aspiration of fearful joy.
+
+"Oh! I pardon you the harm you have done me, and to reward you, you
+shall hear La Chouette sing! Listen to the bird of death--'
+
+"Bravo, bravo! here am I in the dress circle, private box," said
+Tortillard, seating himself at the top of the stairs. He raised the
+light to endeavor to see what was going on in the cellar, but the
+darkness was too great; so faint a light could not dissipate it.
+Bras-Rouge's hopeful could distinguish nothing. The struggle between
+the Schoolmaster and La Chouette was silent and furious, without a
+word, without a cry. Only, from time to time, could be heard a hard
+breathing or suffocating respiration, which always accompanies violent
+and continued struggles.
+
+Tortillard, seated on the stone step, began to stamp his feet in the
+manner peculiar to spectators anxious for the commencement of a play;
+then he uttered the familiar cry of the "gods" in the penny-gaffs.
+"Hoist that rag! trot 'em out! Begin, begin! Music, music!"
+
+"Oh, I have you as I wish," murmured the Schoolmaster from the bottom
+of the cellar, "and you shall--"
+
+A desperate movement of La Chouette interrupted him. She struggled
+with that energy which is caused by the fear of death.
+
+"Speak up, we can't hear," cried Tortillard.
+
+"You have a fine chance in my hand. I have you as I wish to have you,"
+continued the Schoolmaster. Then, having doubtless succeeded in
+holding La Chouette, he added, "That's it. Now listen--"
+
+"Tortillard, call your father!" cried La Chouette, in a breathless,
+exhausted tone. "Help, help!"
+
+"Turn out that old woman! turn her out! We can't hear," said the
+little cripple, screaming with laughter. "Silence! out with her!"
+
+The cries of La Chouette could not reach the upper apartments. The
+wretch, seeing she had no aid to expect from the son of Bras-Rouge,
+tried a last effort.
+
+"Tortillard, go for help; and I will give you my basket, it is full of
+jewels. It is there under a stone."
+
+"How generous you are! Thank you, ma'am! Don't you know that I have
+your swag? Hold, don't you hear it jingle?" said Tortillard shaking
+it. "But give me two sous to buy some hot cake and I'll go seek papa."
+
+"Have pity on me, and I--" La Chouette could not proceed. Again there
+was a pause.
+
+The little cripple recommenced the stamping of his feet, and cried,
+"Why don't you begin? Up with the curtain! Go ahead, will you, now?
+Music, music!"
+
+"La Chouette, you can no longer deafen me with your cries," said the
+Schoolmaster, after some minutes, during which he had succeeded in
+gagging the old woman. "You know well," resumed he, in a slow and
+hollow tone, "that I do not wish to finish you at once. Torture for
+torture. You have made me suffer enough. I must talk to you a long
+time before I kill you--yes, a long time. It will be frightful for
+you! What agony!"
+
+"Come, none of your nonsense, old man," cried Tortillard, half rising.
+"Correct her; but do not hurt her. You speak of killing her; it's only
+a joke, is it not! I like my Chouette. I have lent her to you, but you
+must return her to me. Don't damage her. I will not have any one harm
+my Chouette, or I will go and call papa."
+
+"Be not alarmed; she shall only have what she deserves--a profitable
+lesson," said the robber, to reassure Tortillard, fearing that the
+cripple would go for help.
+
+"Very good! bravo! Now the play begins," said the boy, who did not
+believe that the Schoolmaster seriously meditated to destroy La
+Chouette.
+
+"Let us talk a little," resumed the Schoolmaster, in a calm voice, to
+the old woman. "In the first place, since a dream I had at the farm of
+Bouqueval, which brought before my eyes all our crimes, which almost
+made me mad, which will make me mad--for in the solitude and profound
+state of isolation in which I live, all my thoughts, in spite of
+myself, tend toward this dream--a strange change has taken place
+within me. Yes, I have thought with horror of my past wickedness. In
+the first place, I did not allow you to disfigure the Goualeuse. That
+was nothing. By chaining me here in this cave, by making me suffer
+cold and hunger, but by delivering me from your provocation, you have
+left me alone to all the horrors of my thoughts. Oh! you do not know
+what it is to be alone, always alone, with a black veil over the eyes,
+as the implacable man said who punished me." (This was Rudolph who had
+had him blinded.) "It is fearful! See now! In this cellar I wished to
+kill him, but this cellar is the place of my punishment. It will be
+perhaps my grave!
+
+"I repeat to you, this is frightful. All that man predicted is
+realized. He told me: 'You have abused your strength: you shall be the
+plaything of the weakest.' This has been. He told me: 'Henceforth,
+separated from the exterior world, face to face with the eternal
+remembrance of your crimes, one day you will repent them.' That day
+has arrived; solitude has confirmed it. I could not have thought it
+possible. Another proof that I am, perhaps, less wicked than formerly,
+is, that I experience an indescribable joy in holding you there,
+monster, not to avenge myself, but to avenge our victims. Yes, I shall
+have accomplished a duty, when, with my own hand, I shall have
+punished my accomplice. A voice tells me, that if you had fallen
+sooner into my power, much blood might have been spared. I feel now a
+horror of my past murders, and yet, strange! it is without fear, it is
+with security that I intend to execute on you a frightful murder, with
+horrible refinement of cruelty. Speak, speak! can you realize this?"
+
+"Bravo, bravo! well played, first old man. You warm up," cried
+Tortillard, applauding. "This is only a joke, though?"
+
+"Only a joke?" answered the Schoolmaster, in a hollow voice. "Be
+still, La Chouette; I must finish explaining to you how, little by
+little, I came to repent. This revelation will be odious to you, heart
+of iron, and it will also prove to you how merciless I ought to be in
+the vengeance I wish to exercise on you in the name of our victims. I
+must hurry on. The joy of having you thus makes my blood run wild, my
+head throb with violence, as when I think of my dream. My mind
+wanders; perhaps one of my attacks is coming on; but I shall have time
+to render the approaches of death more frightful, in forcing you to
+hear me."
+
+"Bold, La Chouette!" cried Tortillard; "be bold with your answer.
+Don't you know your part? Come, tell the devil to prompt you, my old
+dear."
+
+"Oh! you do well to struggle and bite," said the Schoolmaster, after a
+pause; "you shall not escape; you have cut my ringers to the bone, but
+I will tear your tongue out if you stir. Let us continue to converse.
+
+"On finding myself alone--constantly alone in obscurity and silence--I
+began to have fits of furious rage; powerless, for the first time I
+lost my senses, my head wandered. Yes, although awake, I have dreamed
+the dream you know: the dream of the old man in the Rue de Roule--the
+woman drowned--the drover--all murdered! and you, soaring above all
+these phantoms! I tell you, it is frightful. I am blind; yet my
+thoughts assume a form, a body, and represent continually to me in a
+visible manner, almost palpable, the features of my victims.
+
+"I should not have this fearful dream, but that my mind, continually
+absorbed by the recollection of my past crimes, is troubled with the
+same visions.
+
+"Doubtless, when one is deprived of sight, besetting ideas trace
+themselves almost materially on the brain. Yet, sometimes, by force of
+contemplating them with resigned alarm, it seems to me that these
+menacing specters have pity on me; they grow dim, fade away, and
+disappear. Then I think I awake from a vivid dream; but I feel myself
+weak, exhausted, broken, and will you believe it--oh! how you will
+laugh, La Chouette--I weep--do you hear? I weep. You do not laugh? But
+laugh! I say, laugh!" La Chouette uttered a stifled groan.
+
+"Louder," cried Tortillard; "we can't hear."
+
+"Yes," continued the Schoolmaster, "I wept, for I suffered, and rage
+is fruitless. I say to myself, to-morrow, and to-morrow, forever I
+shall be a prey to the same delirium, the same mournful desolation.
+What a life! oh, what a life! Better I had chosen death, than to be
+interred alive in this abyss, which incessantly racks my thoughts!
+Blind, solitary, and a prisoner! what can distract my thoughts?
+Nothing--nothing.
+
+"When the phantoms cease for a moment to pass and repass on the black
+veil which I have before my eyes, there are other tortures--there are
+overwhelming comparisons. I say to myself, 'if I had remained an
+honest man, at this moment I should be free, tranquil, happy, loved,
+and honored by mine own, instead of being blind and chained in this
+dungeon, at the mercy of my accomplices.'
+
+"Alas! the regret of happiness, lost by crime, is the first step
+toward repentance. And when to this repentance is added an expiation
+of frightful severity--an expiation which changes life into a long
+sleep filled with avenging hallucinations of desperate reflections,
+perhaps then the pardon of man will follow remorse and expiation."
+
+"Take care, old man!" cried Tortillard; "you are cutting into the
+parson's part! Found out, found out!"
+
+The Schoolmaster paid no attention. "Does it astonish you to hear me
+talk thus, La Chouette? If I had continued to harden myself, either by
+other bloody misdeeds, or by the savage drunkenness of a galley-slave's
+life, this salutary change in me had never taken place, I know
+well. But alone--blind--and tortured with a visible remorse, what
+could I think of? New crimes--how commit them? An escape--how escape?
+And if I escaped, where 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 alarm of horrifying apparitions by which I am
+pursued. Yet sometimes a feeble ray of hope shines in the midst of the
+gloom--a moment of calm succeeds to my torments: yes, for sometimes I
+succeed in conjuring the specters which besiege me, by opposing to
+them the recollections of a past life, honest and peaceful--by
+carrying back my thoughts to the days of my childhood.
+
+"Happily, you see the blackest villains have had, at least, some years
+of peace and innocence to offer in opposition to their long years of
+crime and blood. We are not born wicked.
+
+"The most perverse have had the amiable simplicity of childhood--have
+known the sweet joys of that charming age. So, I repeat, sometimes I
+feel a bitter consolation in saying, 'Though I am at this moment the
+object of universal execration, there was a time when I was beloved
+and cherished, because I was inoffensive and good.'
+
+"Alas! I must take refuge in the past, when I can; there alone can I
+find any repose."
+
+On pronouncing these last words, the voice of the Schoolmaster had
+lost its roughness; the formidable man seemed profoundly affected; he
+went on: "Now, you see, the salutary influence of these thoughts is
+such that my rage is appeased; courage, strength, the will, all fail
+me to punish you; no, it is not for me to shed your blood."
+
+"Bravo, old one! Now you see, La Chouette, that it was only a joke,"
+cried Tortillard, applauding.
+
+"No, it is not for me to shed your blood," resumed the Schoolmaster;
+"it would be a murder--excusable, perhaps, but still a murder; and I
+have enough with three specters! And then, who knows, you, even you!
+will repent some day."
+
+Speaking thus, he mechanically relaxed his grasp.
+
+La Chouette profited by it to seize hold of the dagger, which she had
+placed in her bosom, after the murder of the countess, and to strike a
+violent blow with it in order to disembarrass herself of him
+altogether.
+
+He uttered a cry of great anguish. The savage frenzy of his rage,
+vengeance, and hatred, his sanguinary instincts suddenly aroused, and
+exasperated at this attack, made an unexpected and terrible explosion,
+under which his reason sunk, already much shattered by so many trials.
+
+"Ah! viper, I felt your tooth!" cried he, in a voice trembling with
+rage, and tightly grasping La Chouette, who had thought to escape.
+"You crawl in the cellar," added he, more and more wandering, "but I
+am going to crush you, Screech-Owl. You waited, doubtless, the coming
+of the phantoms; my ears tingle, my head turns, as when they are about
+to come. Yes, I am not deceived. Oh! there they are; out of the
+darkness they approach--they approach! How pale they are, yet their
+blood, how it flows, red and smoking. They frighten you--you struggle.
+Oh, well! be tranquil, you shall not see them; I have pity on you; I
+shall make you blind. You shall be like me, without eyes!" Here he
+paused.
+
+[Illustration: THE COUNTESS SARAH HAS JUST BEEN ASSASSINATED]
+
+La Chouette uttered a yell so horrible that Tortillard, alarmed,
+jumped from his seat, and stood erect.
+
+The frightful screams of La Chouette seemed to increase the insanity
+of the Schoolmaster.
+
+"Sing," said he, in a low voice, "sing, La Chouette, sing your song of
+death. You are happy; you will never more see the phantoms of our
+victims; the old man of the Rue de la Roule, the drowned woman, the
+drover. But I see them, they come; they touch me. Oh! how cold they
+are, oh!"
+
+The last spark of intelligence in this poor wretch was extinguished in
+this cry of horror. Then he reasoned no more, spoke not; he behaved
+and roared like a wild beast: he only obeyed the savage instinct of
+destruction for destruction's sake. Horrible, frightful events took
+place in the gloom of the cellar.
+
+A quick, rapid tramping was heard, interrupted at frequent intervals
+by a dull sound, like that of a bag of bones which rebounded on a
+stone against which one wished to break it. Acute moans, and bursts of
+infernal laughter, accompanied each of these blows. Then there was a
+death-rattle of agony. Then nothing could be heard but the furious
+trampling; nothing but the heavy and rebounding blows, which still
+continued.
+
+Soon a distant noise of footsteps and voices reached even to the
+depths of the cellar. Numerous lights appeared at the extremity of the
+subterranean passage. Tortillard, frozen with terror by the frightful
+tragedy which he had heard, but not seen, perceived several persons
+rapidly descend the staircase. In a moment, the cellar was invaded by
+several police officers, at the head of whom was Narcisse Borel;
+municipal guards closed the march. Tortillard was seized on the upper
+steps of the cellar, holding still in his hand La Chouette's basket.
+
+Narcisse Borel, followed by some of his men, descended into the
+cellar. All stopped, struck with such a horrible spectacle. Chained by
+the leg to an enormous stone placed in the middle of the dungeon, the
+Schoolmaster, horrible, monstrous, his hair knotted, his beard long,
+his mouth foaming, clothed with bloody rags, turned like a wild beast
+around his dungeon, dragging after him, by the feet, the corpse of La
+Chouette, whose head was horribly mutilated, broken, and crushed. It
+needed a violent struggle to take from him the bleeding remains of his
+accomplice, and to secure him.
+
+After a vigorous resistance, they succeeded in transporting him to the
+lower room of the tavern, a dull, gloomy apartment, lighted by a
+single window. There were found, handcuffed and guarded, Barbillon,
+Nicholas Martial, his mother and sister. They had been arrested just
+at the moment they were dragging off the diamond broker to murder her.
+She was recovering in another room. Stretched on the ground, and held,
+with great difficulty, by two officers, the Schoolmaster, slightly
+wounded in the arm by La Chouette, but completely insensible, roared
+and bellowed like a baited bull. At times he almost raised himself
+from the earth by his convulsive movements.
+
+Barbillon, with lowered head, livid face, discolored lips, fixed and
+savage eye, his long black hair falling on the collar of his blouse,
+torn in the struggle, was seated on a bench; his arms, confined by
+handcuffs, rested on his knees. The juvenile appearance of this
+scoundrel (he was hardly eighteen), and the regularity of his
+features, rendered still more deplorable the hideous stamp with which
+debauchery and crime had marked his countenance. Unmoved, he said not
+a word. This apparent insensibility was due to stupidity or to a
+frigid energy; his breathing was rapid, and from time to time, with
+his shackled hands, he wiped the sweat from his pale forehead.
+
+Alongside of him was placed Calabash; her cap had been torn, her
+yellowish hair, tied behind with a string, hung down her back in many
+tangled and disordered tresses. More enraged than dispirited, her thin
+and jaundiced cheeks somewhat colored, she regarded with disdain the
+affliction of her brother Nicholas, placed on a chair opposite.
+
+Foreseeing the fate which awaited him, this bandit, sinking within
+himself, his head hanging, his knees trembling, was almost dead with
+affright; his teeth chattered convulsively, and he uttered low and
+mournful groans. Alone, among all, the widow, standing with her back
+to the wail, had lost nothing of her audacity. With her head erect,
+she cast a firm look around her. Her mask of bronze betrayed not the
+slightest emotion. Yet, at the sight of Bras-Rouge, who was brought
+into the lower room, after having assisted in the minute search which
+the commissary had just made throughout the whole house--yet, at the
+sight of Bras-Rouge, we repeat, the features of the widow contracted
+in spite of herself; her small eyes, ordinarily dull, sparkled with
+rage; her compressed lips became bloodless: she stiffened her manacled
+hands. Then, as if she had regretted this mute manifestation of rage
+and impotent hatred, she conquered her emotion, and became of icy
+calmness.
+
+While the commissary drew up his report, Narcisse Borel, rubbing his
+hands, cast a complacent look on the important capture he had just
+made, which delivered Paris from a band of dangerous criminals; but
+feeling of what utility Bras-Rouge had been in this expedition, he
+could not help expressing to him by a glance his gratitude.
+
+The father of Tortillard was obliged to partake, until after their
+judgment, the prison and fate of those whom he had denounced; like
+them, he wore handcuffs; still more than them, he had a trembling,
+alarmed air, uttering sorrowful groans, and giving to his weasel face
+every expression of terror. He embraced Tortillard, as if he sought
+some consolation in these paternal caresses.
+
+The little cripple showed but little sensibility at these proofs of
+tenderness; he had just learned that, until further orders, he was to
+be sent to the prison for young offenders.
+
+"What a misfortune to part with my darling son!" cried Bras-Rouge,
+feigning to weep; "it is we who are the most unfortunate, Ma'am
+Martial, for they separate us from our children."
+
+The widow could no longer contain herself; not doubting the treason of
+Bras-Rouge, which she had prophesied, she cried, "I was sure that you
+sold my son who is at Toulon. There, Judas!" and she spat in his face.
+"You sell our heads; so be it; they will see handsome corpses-corpses
+of the real Martials!"
+
+"Yes; we will not budge before the scaffold," added Calabash, with
+savage pride.
+
+The widow, pointing to Nicholas with a withering glance of contempt,
+said to her daughter, "This coward will dishonor us on the scaffold!"
+
+Some moments afterward, the widow and Calabash, accompanied by two
+police, were placed in a cab and sent to Saint Lazare. The three men
+were conducted to La Force. The Schoolmaster was transported to the
+depot of the Conciergerie, where there are cells destined to receive
+temporarily the insane.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+THE INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+Some days after the murder of Mrs. Seraphin, the death of La Chouette,
+and the arrest of the band of malefactors surprised at Bras-Rouge's,
+Rudolph repaired to the house in the Rue du Temple.
+
+We have said that--intending to overcome cunning by cunning, and to
+expose the concealed crimes of Jacques Ferrand to the punishment they
+merited, notwithstanding the address and hypocrisy with which he
+disguised them--Rudolph had caused to be brought from her prison in
+Germany a girl named Cecily.
+
+She was a very beautiful quadroon, whose story ran briefly thus: Owned
+by a Louisiana planter, he had refused permission for her to marry
+another of his slaves, known as David, because he had, sultan-like,
+set his own choice upon her. David, by intelligence, and a long stay
+in France, had attained the position of surgeon on the plantation, and
+resisted his master with all the strength of his love for the girl. He
+was flogged, and Cecily locked up. At this juncture, Rudolph's yacht
+was off the plantation. He heard the story, and, landing in the night
+with a boat's crew, carried off David and Cecily in the planter's
+teeth, leaving him a large sum in indemnification. The slaves were
+wedded in France, but David won no happiness. He became Rudolph's
+physician-in-chief, worthily filling the post; but Cecily's
+three-part-white blood revolted at her union with a negro, and she
+flung herself into the first arms open to her. Her life was a series
+of scandals, so that David would have killed her; but Rudolph induced
+him to prefer her life imprisonment in Germany. Thence she is now
+brought.
+
+Having arrived the evening previous, this creature, as handsome as she
+was perverted, as enchanting as she was dangerous, had received
+detailed instructions from Baron de Graun.
+
+It will be remembered that after the last interview between Rudolph
+and Mrs. Pipelet, the latter having adroitly proposed Cecily to Mrs.
+Seraphin to replace Louise Morel as servant to the notary, the
+housekeeper had willingly received her overtures, and promised to
+speak on the subject to Jacques Ferrand, which she had done in terms
+the most favorable to Cecily, the very same morning of the day on
+which she (Mrs. Seraphin) had been drowned at Ravageurs' Island.
+
+Rudolph went to learn the result of Cecily's offer. To his great
+astonishment, on entering the lodge, he found, although it was eleven
+o'clock in the morning, Pipelet in bed, and Anastasia standing beside
+him, offering him drink.
+
+Alfred, whose forehead and eyes disappeared under a formidable cotton
+cap, not answering Anastasia, she concluded he was asleep, and closed
+the curtains of his bed. On turning she saw Rudolph. Immediately she
+carried, according to custom, the back of her open left hand against
+her wig.
+
+"Your servant, my prince of lodgers. You find me overturned, amazed,
+grown thin! There are famous doings in the house, without counting
+that Alfred has been in bed since yesterday."
+
+"And what is the matter?"
+
+"Why ask?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Always the same. The monster yearns more and more after Alfred; he
+alarms me so that I do not know what more to do."
+
+"Cabrion again?"
+
+"Again."
+
+"He is the devil, then!"
+
+"I shall begin to think so, M. Rudolph; for the blackguard always
+guesses when I am out. Hardly do I turn on my heels than he is here on
+the back of my darling, who does not know how to defend himself any
+more than a child. Yesterday again, while I was gone to M. Ferrand's,
+the notary's--there is the place to hear news--"
+
+"And Cecily?" said Rudolph hastily. "I came to know--"
+
+"Stop, my prince of lodgers; do not fluster me. I have so many things
+to tell you that I shall lose myself if you break my thread."
+
+"Well, I listen."
+
+"In the first place, as concerns this house; just imagine that
+yesterday they came and arrested Mother Burette."
+
+"The pawnbroker on the second floor?"
+
+"Yes. It appears that she had many droll trades besides that of a
+pawnbroker! She was a fencess, melter-downess, shoplifteress,
+smasheress, forgeress, coineress, everything that rhymes with
+dishonestness. The worst of all is, that her old beau, Bras-Rouge, is
+also arrested. I told you there was a real earthquake in the house."
+
+"What! Bras-Rouge also arrested?"
+
+"Yes; in his tavern on the Champs-Elysees. All are boxed, even to his
+son Tortillard, the wicked little cripple. They say there has been a
+whole heap of murderers there; that they were a band of assassins;
+that La Chouette, one of the friends of old Burette, has been
+strangled; and that if help had not arrived in time, Mathieu the
+diamond broker would have been murdered. Ain't this news?"
+
+"Bras-Rouge arrested! La Chouette dead!" said Rudolph to himself, with
+astonishment. "Poor Fleur-de-Marie is avenged."
+
+"So much for this. Without excepting the new infamy of Cabrion, I am
+going at once to finish with that brigand. You will see what
+impudence! When old Burette was arrested, and we knew that Bras-Rouge,
+our landlord, was trapped, I said to my old darling, 'You must trot
+right off to the proprietor, and tell him that Bras-Rouge is locked
+up.' Alfred set out. At the end of two hours he came back to me, in
+such a state--white as a sheet, and blowing like an ox!"
+
+"What was the matter?"
+
+"You shall see, M. Rudolph. Only fancy, that six steps from here is a
+large white wall; my darling, on leaving the house, looked by chance
+on this wall; what does he see written there with charcoal, in large
+letters? 'Pipelet & Cabrion!'--the two names joined by a short
+_and_. This mark of union with this scoundrel sticks in his
+stomach the most. That began to upset him; ten steps further, what
+does he see on the great door of the Temple? 'Pipelet & Cabrion!'
+always with the sign of union. On he goes; at each step, M. Rudolph,
+he saw written these cursed names on the walls of the houses, on the
+doors, everywhere, 'Pipelet & Cabrion.' He began to see stars; he
+thought every one was looking at him; he pulled his hat down to his
+nose, he was so much ashamed. He went on the boulevard, thinking that
+Cabrion had confined his indecencies to the Rue du Temple. All along
+the boulevard, on each place where there was room to write, always
+'Pipelet & Cabrion,' to the death! Finally, the poor dear man arrived
+at the proprietor's so bewildered, that, after having stuttered and
+stammered for a quarter of an hour, he could not understand one word
+of all that Alfred said; so he sent him back, calling him an old
+imbecile, and told him to send me to explain the thing. Alfred
+retired, coming back by another route, in order to avoid the names he
+had seen written on the walls. But--"
+
+"Pipelet and Cabrion that road too?"
+
+"As you say, my prince of lodgers. In this way the poor dear man
+arrived, stupefied, amazed, wishing to exile himself. He told me his
+story; I calmed him as well as I could. I left him, and went with
+Cecily to the notary's. You think this is all? Oh, no! Hardly was my
+back turned than Cabrion, who had watched my departure, had the
+impudence to send here two great hussies who attacked Alfred. My hair
+stands on an end. I will tell you all this directly. Let us finish
+with the notary. I set out, then, in a coach with Cecily, as you are
+advised. She wore her pretty German peasant's costume, 'as she had
+just arrived, and had not time to change it,' as I was to tell M.
+Ferrand. You will believe me, if you please, my prince of lodgers, I
+have seen many pretty girls; I have seen myself in my springtime; but
+never have I seen (myself included) a young person who could hold a
+candle to Cecily. She has, above all, in the look of her large,
+wicked, black eyes, something--I don't know what; but, for sure, there
+is something striking. What eyes!
+
+"Alfred is not tender, but the first time that she looked at him be
+became as red as a carrot; for nothing in the world would he have
+looked a second time--he wriggled on his chair for an hour afterward
+as if he had been seated on a thorn; he told me afterward that the
+look had recalled to his mind all the histories of that impudent
+Bradamanti about the savagesses, which made him blush so much, my old
+prude of an Alfred."
+
+"But the notary? the notary?"
+
+"Yes, M. Rudolph. It was about seven in the evening when we reached M.
+Ferrand's; I told the porter to tell his master that Mrs. Pipelet was
+there with the servant whom old Seraphin had spoken about, and told me
+to bring. Hereupon the porter uttered a sigh, and asked me if I knew
+what had happened to Mrs. Seraphin. I said no. Oh, M. Rudolph, here is
+another earthquake!"
+
+"What now?"
+
+"Old Seraphin was drowned in an excursion to the country which she had
+made with one of her relations."
+
+"Drowned! A party to the country in winter?" said Rudolph, surprised.
+
+"Yes, M. Rudolph, drowned. It astonishes me more than it grieves me;
+for since the misfortune of poor Louise, whom she denounced, I hated
+Seraphin. I said to myself, 'She is drowned, is she; after all, it
+won't kill me.' That's my character."
+
+"And M. Ferrand?"
+
+"The porter at first said he thought I could not see his master, and
+begged me to wait in the lodge, but at the end of a moment he returned
+for me; we crossed the court, and entered a chamber. There was only a
+single candle burning. The notary was seated at the chimney-corner,
+where smoked the remains of a firebrand. What a hovel! I have never
+seen M. Ferrand. Isn't he horrid? Here is another one who might in
+vain have offered me the throne of Araby to prove false to Alfred."
+
+"And did he appear struck with the beauty of Cecily?"
+
+"Can any one know, with his green spectacles? such an old sacristan
+ought to be no judge of women. Yet when we both entered, he made a
+kind of start from his chair; it was, doubtless, astonishment at
+seeing the Alsatian costume of Cecily; for she had (only ten million
+times better) the air of one of those little broom girls, with her
+short petticoats, and her pretty legs in blue stockings with red
+clocks! my eye, what calves! and such slender ankles! and the little
+foot! the notary was bewildered at seeing her."
+
+"It was doubtless the strange costume which astonished him."
+
+"Must think so; but the funny moment drew near. Happily I remembered
+the maxim you taught me, M. Rudolph; it was my salvation."
+
+"What maxim?"
+
+"You know: 'Hide your desire if you want it granted.' Then I said to
+myself, I must rid my prince of lodgers of his German, by placing her
+with the master of Louise; and I said to the notary, without giving
+him time to draw breath: 'Pardon me, sir, if my niece comes dressed in
+the costume of her country; but she has just arrived: she has no other
+clothes than these, and I have no means of getting her others, as it
+would hardly be worth while; for we came only to thank you for having
+said to Mrs. Seraphin that you would consent to see Cecily, from the
+good recommendations I had given her: yet I do not think she can suit,
+sir.'"
+
+"Very well, Mrs. Pipelet."
+
+"'Why will your niece not suit me?' said the notary, who, seated in
+the chimney-corner, seemed to look at us from under his spectacles.
+'Because Cecily begins to be home-sick, sir. She has only been here
+three days, yet she wishes to return, even if she has to beg her way
+back, and sell brooms like her countrywomen.' 'But you, her relation,
+will not suffer this?' 'I am her relation, it is true; but she is an
+orphan; she is twenty years old, and she is mistress of her own
+actions.' 'Bah! bah! mistress of her own actions; at her age she
+should obey her relation,' answered he, roughly.
+
+"Hereupon Cecily began to cry and tremble, pressing against me; the
+notary made her afraid, very likely."
+
+"And Ferrand?"
+
+"He grumbled and muttered: 'To abandon a girl at her age is to ruin
+her. To return to Germany as a beggar, it is fine! Do you, her aunt,
+allow such conduct?' 'Well, well,' said I to myself, 'you're right.
+I'll place Cecily with you, or I'll lose my name.' 'I am her aunt, it
+is true,' answered I, 'but it is a very unfortunate relationship for
+me; I have enough on my hands; I would be just as well pleased to have
+my niece go away as to have her on my hands. May Old Nick run away
+with such relations who send you such great girls as this without
+paying the postage.' To crown all, there was Cecily, who seemed to be
+up to trap, bursting into tears. Thereupon the notary assumed a
+sniveling tone, like a preacher, and said to me: 'You will have to
+account above for the trust that Providence has placed in your hands;
+it would be a crime to expose this young girl to perdition. I consent
+to aid you in your charitable work, if your niece promises me to be
+industrious, honest, and pious; and above all, never to go out. I will
+have pity on her, and take her in my service.' 'No, no, I would rather
+go back to my country,' said Cecily, still weeping."
+
+"Her dangerous duplicity did not fail her," thought Rudolph; "the
+diabolical creature has, I see, perfectly comprised the orders of
+Baron de Graun."
+
+Then the prince said aloud, "Did Ferrand appear vexed at the
+perverseness of Cecily?"
+
+"Yes, M. Rudolph; he muttered between his teeth, and said to her
+hastily, 'It is not a question, mademoiselle, of what you prefer, but
+of what is suitable and decent Heaven will not abandon you, if you
+lead an honest life and fulfill your religious duties. You will be
+here in a house as strict as holy; if your aunt really loves you, she
+will profit by my offer; at first you will have but small wages, but
+if by your conduct and zeal you deserve more, perhaps I will increase
+them."
+
+"Good! thought I to myself; the notary is caught! here is Cecily fixed
+at your house, you heartless old miser. Seraphin was in your service
+for many years, and you have not even the appearance of remembering
+that she was drowned the day before yesterday. And I said aloud:
+'Doubtless, sir, the place is advantageous, but if the young woman is
+homesick?' 'That will pass away,' answered the notary; 'come, do you
+decide--yes or no? If you consent, bring your niece to-morrow night at
+this hour, and she can enter at once into my service--my porter will
+instruct her. As to wages, I commence by giving her twenty francs a
+month and board and lodging.' 'Oh, sir, you'll add five francs more?'
+'No, by and by--if I am content--we shall see. But I must inform you,
+that your niece must never go out, and must have no one to come and
+see her.' 'Oh, sir, who would come to see her? She knows no one but me
+in Paris, and I have my own door to take care of; it has incommoded me
+enough to come with her to-day-you will never see me again-she will be
+as much of a stranger as if she had never come out of her own country.
+As to her not going out, there is a very simple way--let her wear her
+own costume; she would never dare go out in the street dressed in that
+outdacious manner.' 'You are right,' said the notary; 'it is, besides,
+respectable to dress in the costume of one's country. She may, then,
+remain in her Alsatian dress. 'Come,' said I to Cecily, who, with her
+head down, wept continually; 'you must decide, my child; a good place,
+in an honest house, is not to be found every day; besides, if you
+refuse, you must make your own arrangements; I'll have no more to do
+with them.' Then Cecily answered sighing, 'that she consented to
+remain; but on condition that if in a fortnight her homesickness
+troubled her too much, she might go away.' 'I do not wish to keep you
+by force,' said the notary; 'and I am not embarrassed to find
+servants. Here is your handsel; your aunt will only have to bring you
+to-morrow night.' Cecily had not ceased to weep. I accepted for her
+the advance of forty sous from the old screw, and we returned here."
+
+"Very well, Mrs. Pipelet; I do not forget my promise. Here is what I
+promised if you should succeed in getting a situation for this girl,
+who embarrassed me."
+
+"Wait until to-morrow, my prince of lodgers," said Mrs. Pipelet,
+refusing the money; "for, perhaps, he will change his mind when I take
+Cecily to him this evening."
+
+"I do not think he will change his mind; but where is she?"
+
+"In the cabinet belonging to M. Robert's apartments; in obedience to
+your orders she does not stir from them; she seems as resigned as a
+lamb, although she has eyes--oh! what eyes! But, apropos of M. Robert,
+isn't he an intriguer? When he came himself to superintend the packing
+of his furniture, did he not tell me that if there came any letters
+here addressed to Madame Vincent, they were for him, and to send them
+to No. 5 Rue Mondovi. He to be addressed under the name of a woman,
+the beautiful bird! how cunning it is! But this is not all; did he not
+have the impudence to ask me what had become of his wood? 'Your wood!
+why not your forest at once?' I answered. Now it is true, for two mean
+cart-loads of nothing at all--one of drift and the other new wood, for
+he did not buy all new wood--the save-penny made a fuss! His wood? 'I
+burned all your wood,' said I, 'to save your furniture from the damp;
+otherwise mushrooms would have sprung up on your embroidered cap, and
+on your glowworm robe de chambre that you wore so often while you were
+waiting for the little lady who quizzed you."
+
+A heavy plaintive groan from Alfred interrupted. "There is my beauty
+dreaming, he is going to wake up; you will allow me, my prince of
+lodgers?"
+
+"Certainly; I have, besides, some more questions to ask."
+
+"Well! my sweet, how do you feel?" said Mrs. Pipelet to her husband,
+opening the curtains; "here is M. Rudolph! he knows the new infamy of
+Cabrion: he pities you with all his heart."
+
+"Oh, sir!" said Alfred, turning his head in a languishing manner
+toward Rudolph; "this time I shall not get over it; the monster has
+stabbed me to the heart. I am the subject of the placards of the
+capital; my name can be read on all the walls side by side with this
+scoundrel's. 'Pipelet & Cabrion,' with an enormous _and_! I!
+united to this infernal blackguard in the eyes of the capital of
+Europe!"
+
+"M. Rudolph knows it; but what he does not know is your adventure of
+last night with those two strapping women."
+
+"Oh! sir, he kept his most monstrous infamy for the last; this passed
+all bounds," said Alfred, in a mournful tone.
+
+"Come, my dear M. Pipelet, relate to me this new misfortune."
+
+"All he had done previously was nothing to this, sir. He succeeded in
+his object--thanks to proceedings the most shameful. I do not know if
+I have the strength to relate it! confusion and shame will impede me
+at each step."
+
+Pipelet being painfully raised in the bed, modestly buttoned up his
+flannel waistcoat, and commenced in these terms: "My wide had just
+gone out; absorbed in the bitterness caused by the prostitution of my
+name written on all the walls of the capital, I sought to distract
+myself by endeavoring to sole a boot, twenty times taken up and twenty
+times abandoned, thanks to the obstinate persecutions of my tormentor.
+I was seated before a table when I saw the door of my lodge open, and
+a woman enter. This woman was wrapped in a cloak, with a hood; I arose
+politely from my seat, and touched my hat. At this moment, a second
+woman, also enveloped in a cloak with a hood, entered my lodge, and
+locked the door inside.
+
+"Although astonished at the familiarity of this procedure, and the
+silence which the two women preserved, I again rose from my chair, and
+again carried my hand to my hat. Then, sir; no, no, I never can--my
+modesty revolts."
+
+"Come, Old Modesty, you are among men; go on then!"
+
+"Then," resumed Alfred, becoming crimson, "the mantles fell, and what
+did I see? Two species of sirens or nymphs, with no other clothing
+than a tunic of leaves, the head also crowned with foliage; I was
+petrified. Then they both advanced toward me, extending their arms, if
+to invite me to precipitate myself into them."
+
+"The hussies!" said Anastasia.
+
+"The advances of these barefaced individuals revolted me," resumed
+Alfred, animated by chaste indignation; "and, following habit, which
+never abandons me in the most critical circumstances of my life, I
+remained completely immovable on my chair; when, profiting by my
+stupor, the two sirens approached me by a kind of slow whirl, spinning
+round on their legs, and moving their arms. I became more and more
+immovable. They reached me, they twisted their arms around me."
+
+"Twisted their arms around an aged married man! Oh, if I had been
+there with my broomstick," cried Anastasia, "I'd have given a cadence,
+and spinning of legs to some purpose."
+
+"When I felt myself embraced," continued Alfred, "my blood made one
+rush--I was half dead. Then one of the sirens--the boldest, a large,
+tall blonde--leaned on my shoulder, raised my hat, and uncovered my
+head, all to music, spinning on her legs and moving her arms; then her
+accomplice drew a pair of scissors from among the leaves, collected
+together an enormous lock of all the hair that remained behind my
+head, and cut it off. All, sir, all; always with the spinning around
+on her legs; then she said to me, singing, 'It is for Cabrion!' and
+the other impudence repeated in chorus, 'It is for Cabrion! It is for
+Cabrion!'"
+
+After a pause, accompanied by a grievous sigh, Alfred went on with his
+story:
+
+"During this scandalous spoliation, I raised my eyes, and saw looking
+through the window of the lodge the infernal face of Cabrion, with his
+beard and pointed hat. He laughed, he was hideous! To escape this
+odious vision, I shut my eyes. When I opened them again, all had
+disappeared. I found myself on my chair, my head uncovered, and
+completely devastated! You see, sir, Cabrion has gained his end by
+force of cunning, audacity, and obstinacy; and by what means! He
+wished to make me pass for his friend; he began by putting up a notice
+here that we would carry on a friendly trade together. Not content
+with that, at this very moment my name is connected with his on all
+the walls of the capital. There is not, at this moment, an inhabitant
+of Paris who can have any doubt of my intimacy with this wretch; he
+wished some of my hair, he has it; all thanks to the impudent
+exactions of these brazen sirens. Now, sir, you must see, there only
+remains for me a flight from France--ma belle France! where I thought
+to live and die."
+
+Alfred threw himself backward on his bed, and clasped his hands.
+
+"But just the contrary, old darling; now that he has your hair, he
+will leave you quiet."
+
+"Leave me quiet!" cried Pipelet, with a convulsive start; "but you do
+not know him; he is insatiable. Now who knows what he will next want
+from me?"
+
+Rigolette, appearing at the entrance of the lodge, put an end to the
+lamentations.
+
+"Do not enter, mademoiselle!" cried Pipelet, faithful to his habits of
+chaste susceptibility. "I am in bed." So saying, he drew one of the
+sheets to his chin. Rigolette stopped discreetly at the threshold.
+
+"I was just going to see you, neighbor," said Rudolph to her. "Will
+you wait one moment?" Then, addressing Anastasia, "Do not forget to
+conduct Cecily to-night to M. Ferrand's."
+
+"Be tranquil, my prince of lodgers; at seven o'clock she shall be
+installed there. Now that Madame Morel can walk, I will ask her to
+stay in the lodge, for Alfred would not, for an empire, remain alone."
+
+The rosy cheeks of Rigolette had become paler and paler; her charming
+face, until now so fresh, so round, had lengthened a little; her
+piquant countenance, ordinarily so animated and lively, was become
+serious and still more sad since the last interview between the
+grisette and Fleur-de-Marie at the gate of the prison of Saint Lazare.
+
+"How happy I am to see you, neighbor," said she to Rudolph, when he
+came out of the lodge. "I have many things to tell you."
+
+"In the first place, how do you do? Let me look at your pretty face.
+Is it still gay and rosy? Alas! no; I find you pale. I am sure you
+work too much."
+
+"Oh! no, M. Rudolph; I assure you I am now used to this little
+increase of work. What changes me is grief. Every time I see poor
+Germain I become still more sad."
+
+"He is then very much depressed?"
+
+"More than ever, M. Rudolph; and what is annoying is, that everything
+that I do to console him increases his despondency; it is like a
+spell." A tear obscured her large black eyes.
+
+"Explain this to me."
+
+"For instance, yesterday I went to see him to take a book he wished to
+have, because it was a romance that we used to read together in our
+happy days. At the sight of this book, he burst into tears, which did
+not surprise me, it was very natural. Dear memento of our evenings, so
+quiet, so pleasant, seated by my stove, in my snug little room, to
+compare with this frightful life in prison. Poor Germain! it is very
+cruel!"
+
+"Be comforted," said Rudolph to the young girl. "When Germain gets out
+of prison, and his innocence is acknowledged, be will find his mother
+and friends, and he will soon forget, in their society and yours, the
+terrible moments of trial."
+
+"Yes, but until then, M. Rudolph, he is going to be still more
+tormented. And besides, this is not all."
+
+"What is there besides?"
+
+"As he is the only honest man among all these bandits, they are
+prejudiced against him, because he cannot agree with them. A turnkey,
+a very good man, told me to advise Germain, for his own sake, to be
+less proud, to try to be a little more familiar with the men; but he
+cannot. They are stronger than he is, and I fear that some day they
+will injure him." Then, suddenly, interrupting herself, she said,
+drying her tears, "But see now, I only think of myself, and forget to
+speak to you about La Goualeuse."
+
+"La Goualeuse?" said Rudolph, with surprise.
+
+"The day before yesterday, on going to see Louise at Saint Lazare, I
+met her."
+
+"The Goualeuse?"
+
+"Yes, M. Rudolph."
+
+"In Saint Lazare?"
+
+"She came out with an old lady."
+
+"It is impossible!" cried Rudolph, astonished.
+
+"I assure you it was she, neighbor."
+
+"You must be mistaken."
+
+"No, no; although she was dressed as a peasant girl, I knew her at
+once. She is still very handsome, although pale; and she has the same
+soft, melancholy manner as formerly."
+
+"Come to Paris without my knowledge! I cannot believe it. What was she
+doing at Saint Lazare?"
+
+"The same as I was; visiting a prisoner, doubtless. I had no time to
+ask more questions; the old woman who accompanied her had such a cross
+look, and was in such a hurry. So you know La Goualeuse also, M.
+Rudolph?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Then, there is no more doubt that it is you of whom she spoke."
+
+"Of me?"
+
+"Yes. I related to her the misfortunes of Louise and Germain, both so
+good, so virtuous, and so persecuted by that villain Jacques Ferrand,
+taking care not to tell what you forbid, that you interested yourself
+in them; then La Goualeuse told me that if a generous person whom she
+knew was informed of the unhappy and undeserved fate of my poor
+prisoners, he would certainly come to their assistance. I asked the
+name of this person, and she named you, M. Rudolph."
+
+"It is she, it is she!"
+
+"You may suppose that we were both much astonished at this discovery,
+or resemblance of names. We promised to write if our Rudolph was the
+same person. And it appears that you are the same, M. Rudolph."
+
+"Yes. I have also interested myself for this poor child. But what you
+have told me of her presence in Paris surprises me so much that if you
+had not given me so many details of your interview with her, I should
+have persisted in believing that you were mistaken. But, adieu,
+neighbor; what you have just told me about La Goualeuse obliges me to
+leave you. Remain still reserved toward Louise and Germain as regards
+the protection of unknown friends. This secrecy is more necessary than
+ever. Apropos, how are the Morel family?"
+
+"Better and better, M. Rudolph. The mother is on her feet again; the
+children improve daily. All owe their life to you--their happiness.
+You are so generous to them!"
+
+"And how is poor Morel?"
+
+"Better. I had news from him yesterday. He seems occasionally to have
+some lucid moments; there is great hope of restoring him to reason."
+
+"Come, courage: I shall soon see you again. Have you need of anything?
+Do you still earn enough to support yourself?"
+
+"Oh, yes, M. Rudolph; I take a little from my hours of rest, and it is
+not much damage for I hardly sleep now."
+
+"Alas! my poor little neighbor, I much fear that Papa Cretu and
+Ramonette will not sing much more if they wait for you to begin."
+
+"You are not mistaken, M. Rudolph; my birds and I sing no more, for--
+now you are going to laugh! well, it seems to me that they comprehend
+that I am sad; yes, instead of warbling gayly when I arrive, they
+utter such low, plaintive notes, that they appear to wish to console
+me. I am foolish to believe this, am I not, M. Rudolph?"
+
+"Not at all: I am sure that your good friends, the birds, love you too
+much not to perceive your sorrow."
+
+"Really, the poor little things are so intelligent!" said Rigolette,
+naively, much satisfied at being assured of the sagacity of the
+companions of her solitude.
+
+"Without doubt, nothing is more intelligent than gratitude. Come, once
+more, adieu. Soon, neighbor, I hope your pretty eyes will become
+sparkling, your cheeks very rosy, and your songs so gay--so gay--that
+Papa Cretu and Ramonette will hardly be able to follow you."
+
+"May what you have said be true, M. Rudolph," answered Rigolette, with
+a heavy sigh. "Good-bye!"
+
+"Good-bye, for the present!"
+
+Rudolph could not comprehend how Madame George had, without advising
+him, sent or brought Fleur-de-Marie to Paris; he returned home, to
+send an express to the farm at Bouqueval. The moment he entered the
+Rue de Plumet, he saw a postchaise stop before the door of the hotel;
+it was Murphy, who had just returned from Normandy. The squire had
+gone there, as we have stated, to unmask the sinister projects of the
+step-mother of Madame d'Harville, and Bradamanti, her accomplice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+MURPHY AND POLIDORI.
+
+
+Radiant with joy was the face of Sir Walter Murphy. On descending from
+the carriage, he handed to one of the servants a pair of pistols, took
+off his long riding, coat, and, without losing time to change his
+dress, he followed Rudolph, who, very impatient, had preceded him to
+his apartment.
+
+"Good news, your highness, good news!" cried the squire, when he found
+himself alone with Rudolph. "The wretches are unmasked! Lord d'Orbigny
+is saved! You sent me off in time; one hour later, a new crime would
+have been committed."
+
+"And Madame d'Harville?"
+
+"She is overjoyed at regaining her father's affection, and at having
+arrived in time, thanks in your advice, to save him from certain
+death."
+
+"Polidori?"
+
+"Was once more the worthy accomplice of the stepmother of Madame
+d'Harville. But what a monster is this step-mother! what audacity! And
+Polidori! Oh, my lord, you have often been pleased to thank me for
+what you call the proofs of my devotedness."
+
+"I have always had proofs of your friendship, my good Sir Walter."
+
+"Well, never, your highness, never--no, never has this friendship been
+put to a severer test than in this affair," said the squire, in a half
+joking manner.
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Disguises as coalheavers, and so on, were nothing, absolutely
+nothing, compared to the journey I have just made with this infernal
+Polidori."
+
+"What do you say? Polidori--"
+
+"I have brought him with me."
+
+"With you?"
+
+"With me. Judge what a companion! during twelve hours, side by side
+with the man I despise and hate the most in the world! I would as soon
+travel with a serpent; my antipathy--"
+
+"And where is Polidori now?"
+
+"In the house of the Allee des Veuves, under good, sure guard."
+
+"Did he make no resistance to following you?"
+
+"None. I left him the choice of being arrested on the spot by the
+French authorities, or being my prisoner in the Allee des Veuves. He
+did not hesitate."
+
+"You were right; it is better to have him thus in our own hands. You
+are a man of gold, my friend; but relate to me your journey; I am
+impatient to know how this unworthy woman and her depraved accomplice
+have been unmasked."
+
+"Nothing could be plainer. I had only to follow your instructions to
+the letter to terrify and crush these wretches. In this case, your
+highness has saved, as usual, people of worth, and punished the
+wicked; noble Providence that you are!"
+
+"Sir Walter, Sir Walter, do you remember the flatteries of Baron de
+Graun?" said Rudolph, smiling.
+
+"Well, let it pass. I will commence then; or, rather, you will first
+please to read this letter, from Madame d'Harville, which will inform
+you of all that occurred previous to my arrival."
+
+"A letter? give it to me quickly."
+
+Murphy, handing Rudolph the letter, added, "As it was agreed upon,
+instead of accompanying the lady to her father's I alighted at an inn,
+a short distance from the chateau, where I was to stay until her
+ladyship sent for me."
+
+Rudolph read what follows, with tender and impatient solicitude:
+
+"YOUR HIGHNESS,--To all I owe you already, I add the life of my
+father!
+
+"I shall let facts speak for themselves; they will tell you better
+than I can, what new treasures of gratitude toward you I have
+collected in my heart.
+
+"Comprehending all the importance of the counsels which you gave me
+through Sir Walter Murphy, who rejoined me on the road to Normandy,
+just as I left Paris, I arrived in all haste at the Chateau des
+Aubiers.
+
+"I do not know why, but the features of the servants who received me
+appeared sinister; I did not see among them any of the old servitors
+of our house; no one knew me; I was obliged to announce myself. I
+learned that, some days before, my father was quite ill, and my
+stepmother had just returned from Paris with a physician. No more
+doubt--it was Dr. Polidori!
+
+"Wishing to be conducted at once to my father, I asked where an old
+valet was, to whom he was much attached. This man had left the chateau
+some time before; this information was given me by a butler, who had
+conducted me to my apartments, saying 'that he would go and inform my
+step-mother of my arrival.'
+
+"Was it an illusion or prejudice? it seemed to me that my arrival was
+disagreeable even to the servants. Everything in the chateau seemed
+mournful and sad. In the disposition of mind in which I found myself,
+one seeks to draw conclusions from the merest trifles. I remarked
+everywhere traces of disorder, of negligence, as if it had been
+thought useless to take care of a dwelling so soon to be abandoned.
+
+"My anxiety increased each moment. After having settled my daughter
+and her governess in my apartment, I was about to go to my father when
+my step-mother entered. Notwithstanding her duplicity and the command
+which she ordinarily has over herself, she appeared uneasy at my
+arrival.
+
+"M. d'Orbigny did not expect your visit, madame," said she to me. "He
+is so ill, that such a surprise might be fatal. I think it, then,
+suitable to leave him in ignorance of your presence; he cannot, in any
+way--" I did not allow her to finish.
+
+"A great misfortune has happened, madame," said I; 'M. d'Harville is
+dead! victim of a fatal imprudence! After such a deplorable event, I
+cannot remain in Paris, and I have come to pass at my father's my
+mourning."
+
+"You are a widow! Oh! what overpowering good fortune!' cried my
+step-mother, in a rage. From what you know of the unhappy marriage,
+which this woman schemed for me, your highness will comprehend the
+atrocity of her exclamation.
+
+"It is because I feared that you would be also as overpoweringly
+fortunate as I am, madame, that I came here," said I, perhaps
+imprudently; "I wish to see my father."
+
+"Your unexpected appearance may do your father much harm," cried she,
+placing herself before me, to bar the passage. 'I will not allow you
+to enter his chamber until I have informed him of your return, with
+all the precautions his situation requires.'
+
+"I was in a state of cruel perplexity. A sudden surprise might,
+indeed, prove dangerous to my father; but this woman, ordinarily so
+cold, so much the mistress of herself, seemed so alarmed at my
+presence; I had so many reasons to doubt the sincerity of her
+solicitude for the health of him whom she had married from cupidity;
+finally, the presence of Dr. Polidori, my mother's murderer, caused a
+terror so great that, believing the life of my father to be
+threatened, I did not hesitate between the hope of saving him and the
+fear of causing him any serious emotions.
+
+"'I will see my father at once,' said I to my stepmother.
+
+"And although she caught me by the arms, I passed out.
+
+"Losing her self-possession completely, this woman again endeavored to
+stop me. This incredible resistance redoubled my alarm. I disengaged
+myself from her hands. Knowing the apartment of my father, I ran
+thither rapidly; I entered. Oh, your highness! on my life, I shall
+never forget the scene presented to my view. My father, almost
+unrecognizable, pale, thin, suffering painted on every feature, with
+his head leaning on a pillow, was stretched out in a large arm-chair.
+
+"At the chimney-corner, standing near him, was Dr. Polidori, prepared
+to pour in a cup, which a nurse presented to him, some drops of a
+liquid contained in a little glass bottle which he held in his hand.
+
+"His long red beard gave a still more sinister expression to his face.
+I entered so precipitately, that he made a gesture of surprise,
+exchanged a look of intelligence with my step-mother, who followed in
+haste, and instead of giving my father the potion which he had
+prepared for him, he quickly placed it on the chimney-piece.
+
+"Guided by an instinct which I cannot yet account for, my first
+movement was to seize the vial.
+
+"Remarking the surprise and alarm of my step-mother and Polidori, I
+felicitated myself on my action. My father, stupefied, seemed
+irritated, at seeing me, as I expected. Polidori cast a ferocious
+glance at me; notwithstanding the presence of my father and that of
+the nurse, I feared that this wretch, seeing his crime almost
+discovered, would carry matters to extremities.
+
+"I felt the need of help at this decisive moment; I rang the bell; one
+of the servants appeared; I begged him to say to my valet (who had his
+instructions) to go and bring some things I had left at the inn; Sir
+Walter Murphy knew that, not to arouse the suspicions of my
+stepmother, I would employ this subterfuge to bring him to me.
+
+"The surprise of my father and my step-mother was such that the
+servant retired before they could say a word; I was reassured; in a
+few moments Sir Walter would be near me.
+
+"'What does this mean?' said my father, at length, in a feeble but
+imperious and angry tone, 'You here, Clemence, without being sent for?
+And then, hardly arrived, you take possession of the vial which
+contains the potion that the doctor was about to give me; will you
+explain this folly?'
+
+"'Leave the room,' said my step-mother to the nurse. 'Calm yourself,
+dear,' said she, addressing my father; 'you know the least emotion may
+injure you. Since your daughter comes here in spite of you, and her
+presence is disagreeable, give me your arm, I will conduct you to the
+little saloon; and leave our good doctor to make Madame d'Harville
+understand the imprudence (not to say anything worse) of her conduct.'
+
+"And she cast a significant look at her accomplice. I comprehended the
+design of my step-mother. She wished to lead my father away, and leave
+me alone with Polidori, who, in this extreme case, would have
+doubtless employed violence to force from me the vial, which might
+furnish evident proof of his designs. 'You are right,' said my father;
+'since she comes and persecutes me even in my own room, without any
+respect for my wishes, I will leave the place free to her
+importunacy.' And rising with an effort, he accepted the offered arm,
+and made some steps toward the small saloon. At this moment, Polidori
+advancing toward me, I drew nearer my father and said, 'I will explain
+to you the cause of my unexpected arrival, and what is strange in my
+conduct. I am a widow. I know your days are threatened, father.'
+
+"He walked painfully, with his body bent. At these words, he stopped,
+stood erect, and looking at me with profound astonishment, cried, 'You
+are a widow? my days threatened? What does all this mean?'
+
+"'And who dares to threaten the days of M. d'Orbigny, madame?'
+audaciously asked my step-mother. 'Who threatens them?' added
+Polidori.
+
+"'You, sir; you, madame,' I answered. 'What an insult!' cried my
+step-mother, advancing toward me. 'What I say, I will prove, madame.'
+'Such an accusation is frightful!' said my father.
+
+"'I shall leave this house at once, since in it I am exposed to such
+atrocious calumnies!' said Dr. Polidori, with the assumed indignation
+of a man whose honor was outraged. Beginning to feel the danger of his
+position, he doubtless wished to fly. As he opened the door, he found
+himself face to face with Sir Walter Murphy."
+
+Rudolph, stopping a moment, extended his hand to the squire, and said:
+"Very timely, my old friend; your presence must have been like a
+thunderbolt to this Wretch." "That is the word, your highness; he
+became livid, and retreated two steps, looking at me in a kind of
+stupor; he seemed astounded. To meet me in Normandy at such a moment!
+he thought it was a dream. But continue, my lord; you will see that
+this infernal Countess d'Orbigny had also her turn of a thunderbolt,
+thanks to what you told me of her visit to the quack Bradamanti
+Polidori in the house of the Rue du Temple; for, after all, it is you
+who act; or, rather, I was only the instrument of your thought."
+
+Rudolph smiled, and went on with the perusal of the letter of Madame
+d'Harville.
+
+"At the sight of Sir Walter, Polidori was petrified; my step-mother
+fell from one surprise into another; my father, alarmed at this scene,
+and weakened by sickness, was obliged to seat himself in a chair. Sir
+Walter double-locked the door by which he entered; and, placing
+himself before the one which opened into another apartment, so that
+the doctor could not escape, he said to my father, with the most
+profound respect:
+
+"'I ask a thousand pardons, my lord, for the liberty I take; but
+imperious necessity, dictated solely by you? interest (as you will
+soon acknowledge) obliges me to act thus. My name is Sir Walter
+Murphy, as this wretch can testify, who, at my sight, trembles with
+fear; I am the confidential adviser of his Royal Highness, the
+Grand-Duke of Gerolstein.'
+
+"'It is true,' said Dr. Polidori, confusedly, quite beside himself
+with alarm. 'But, sir, what do you come here for? What do you want?'
+
+"'Sir Walter Murphy,' said I, addressing my father, 'comes to aid me
+in unmasking these wretches, to whose machinations you were near
+falling a victim.' Then, handing to Sir Walter the vial, I added, 'I
+have had the good fortune to become possessed of this at the moment
+Dr. Polidori was about administering to my father its contents.'
+
+"'A chemist from the neighboring town shall analyze before you the
+contents of this bottle, which I am going to place in your lordship's
+hands, and if it be proved that it contains a slow poison,' said Sir
+Walter to my father, 'there can remain no more doubt of the danger you
+have run, which the affection of your daughter has happily prevented.'
+
+"My poor father looked at his wife, Dr. Polidori, Sir Walter, and
+myself in a bewildered manner; his features expressed deep agony, I
+read upon his careworn face the violent struggle which tore his heart.
+Without doubt he was resisting with all his strength growing and
+terrible suspicions, fearing to be obliged to recognize the guilt of
+my step-mother; at length, concealing his face in his hands, he cried,
+'Oh! all this is horrible--impossible! Is this, then, a dream?'
+
+"'No, it is not a dream!' cried my step-mother, audaciously: 'nothing
+is more real than this atrocious calumny, previously concocted, to
+ruin an unhappy woman, whose sole crime has been consecrating her life
+to you. Come, come, my friend, let us not remain a second longer
+here!' added she, addressing herself to my father; 'perhaps your
+daughter will not have the insolence to detain you in spite of
+yourself.'
+
+"'Yes, yes, let us go,' said my father, almost wild; 'this is not
+true--cannot be true; I wish to hear nothing further; my reason would
+give way; frightful suspicions would arise in my mind, empoison the
+few days remaining for me to live, and nothing could console me for
+such an abominable discovery!'
+
+"My father seemed so suffering, so despairing, that at any sacrifice,
+I would have put a stop to a scene so cruel for him. Sir Walter
+divined my thoughts; but, wishing to do full and entire justice, he
+answered my father.
+
+"'Yet a few words, my lord; you are about to experience the
+affliction, doubtless very painful, of discovering that a woman whom
+you believe attached to you by gratitude, has always been a monstrous
+hypocrite; but you will find certain consolation in the affection of
+your daughter, who has always been true."
+
+"'This passes all bounds!' cried my step-mother, in a rage; 'by what
+right, sir, on what proofs, dare you utter such frightful calumnies?
+You say the vial contains poison. I deny it, sir; and I will deny it
+until you prove the contrary; and even if Dr. Polidori might have by
+accident mistaken one medicine for another, is that a reason to dare
+to accuse me of having wished, with him as an accomplice--oh! no, no,
+I cannot finish--an idea so horrible is already a crime. Once more,
+sir, I defy you to say on what proofs you and madame dare to sustain
+this frightful calumny,' said my step-mother, with incredible
+audacity. 'Yes, on what proofs?' cried my unfortunate father. 'The
+torture I suffer must be brought to a close.'
+
+"'I have not come here without proofs, my lord,' said Sir Walter. 'And
+these proofs the answers of this wretch will furnish directly.' Then
+Sir Walter spoke to Dr. Polidori in German, who seemed to have
+recovered a little assurance, but lost it immediately."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What did you say to him?" demanded Rudolph, laying aside the letter
+for a moment.
+
+"Some significant words to this effect: 'You escaped by flight the
+sentence pronounced against you in the grand duchy; you live in the
+Rue du Temple, under the false name of Bradamanti; your present
+occupation is unknown; you poisoned the count's first wife; three days
+ago Madame d'Orbigny came to bring you here to poison her husband. His
+serene highness is in Paris, and has the proofs of all I advance. If
+you confess the truth, so as to convict this miserable woman, you may
+hope, not pardon, but some mitigation of the punishment you deserve;
+you must follow me to Paris, where I will place you in security, until
+his royal highness decides your fate. Otherwise two things; one, the
+prince will demand you from the government, or this moment I will send
+to the neighboring town for a magistrate; this vial containing poison,
+shall be placed in his hands; you will be arrested at once, your
+lodgings in the Rue du Temple searched; you know how much that will
+compromise you, and French justice shall follow its course. Choose
+then.' These revelations, accusations, and threats, that he knew
+well-founded, succeeding one another so rapidly, confounded this
+miscreant, who did not expect to find me so well informed. In the hope of
+lessening the punishment which awaited him, he did not hesitate to
+sacrifice his accomplice, and answered, 'Interrogate me--I will tell
+the truth concerning this woman.'"
+
+"Well, well, my worthy friend, I expected no less from you."
+
+"During my interview with Polidori, the features of Madame d'Orbigny
+changed their expression of assurance alarmingly, although she did not
+understand German. She saw, from the increasing dejection of her
+confederate, from his supplicating attitude, that I had him in my
+power. In great anxiety, she endeavored to catch the eye of Polidori,
+in order to give him courage or to implore his discretion, but he
+avoided her glances."
+
+"And the count?"
+
+"His emotion was indescribable; with his contracted fingers he
+clutched, convulsively, the arm of his chair, the perspiration
+standing on his forehead: he hardly breathed; his burning and glazed
+eyes were fixed on mine; his agony equaled that of his wife. The
+continuation of the letter of Madame d'Harville will instruct your
+highness as to the end of this painful scene."
+
+Rudolph resumed the perusal of the letter. "After a conversation in
+German, which lasted for some moments, Sir Walter said to Polidori,
+'Now answer, was it not madame,' and he pointed at my step-mother,
+'who, at the time of the illness of my lord's first wife, introduced
+you in the house as a physician?' 'Yes, it was she,' answered
+Polidori.
+
+"'In order to serve the fearful projects of madame, have you not been
+criminal enough to render mortal (by your homicidal prescriptions) the
+slight illness of the Countess d'Orbigny?' 'Yes,' said Polidori.
+
+"My father uttered a heart-rending sigh, raised his two hands toward
+heaven, and let them fall, quite overwhelmed. 'Falsehoods and infamy!'
+cried my stepmother; 'all this is false; they conspire to ruin me!'
+'Silence, madame!' said Sir Walter, in an imposing voice; then,
+continuing to question Polidori:
+
+"'Is it true, that three days ago, madame went to seek you at No. 17
+Rue du Temple, where you reside, concealed under the false name of
+Bradamanti?'
+
+"'That is true.'
+
+"'Did not madame propose to you to come here to murder the Count
+d'Orbigny, as you had murdered his wife?'
+
+"'Alas! I cannot deny it,' said Polidori. "'At this overwhelming
+revelation, my father arose on his feet; he showed the door to my
+step-mother; then, extending his arms toward me, he cried, in a broken
+voice, 'In the name of your unfortunate mother, pardon me, pardon me!
+I have caused you much suffering; but I swear to you I was a stranger
+to the crime which has conducted her to the tomb.'
+
+"And before I could prevent him, he fell at my feet.
+
+"When Sir Walter and myself raised him, he had fainted. I rang for the
+servants. Sir Walter took the doctor by the arm, and went out with
+him, saying to my step-mother, 'Believe me, madame, you had better
+leave this house before an hour, or I will deliver you up to justice.'
+
+"The wretched woman left the room in a state of alarm and rage which
+your highness will easily conceive.
+
+"When my father recovered his senses, all that had taken place
+appeared like a horrid dream. I was under the sad necessity of
+relating to him my first suspicions concerning the premature death of
+my mother--suspicions which your highness's knowledge of the previous
+crimes of Dr. Polidori changed into certainty.
+
+"I was obliged, also, to tell my father how my stepmother had carried
+her hatred even to my marriage, and what had been her object in
+causing me to marry M. d'Harville.
+
+"As much as my father had shown himself weak and blind respecting this
+woman, just so much he wished to treat her without mercy; he accused
+himself, with despair, of having been the accomplice of this monster,
+in giving her his hand after the death of my mother. He wished to give
+her up to justice; I represented to him the odious notoriety of such
+proceedings. I engaged him to drive her away forever from his
+presence, allowing her just enough for her support, since she bore his
+name.
+
+"I had great trouble in procuring my father's consent to this; he
+wished me to turn her out of the house. This mission would be doubly
+painful; I thought that Sir Walter, perhaps, would act for me. He
+consented."
+
+"And I consented with joy," said Murphy to Rudolph; "nothing pleases
+me more than to give to the wicked this kind of extreme unction."
+
+"And what did this woman say?"
+
+"Madame d'Harville had carried her goodness so far as to ask from her
+father a pension of one hundred louis for this creature. This appeared
+to me not goodness, but weakness; it was bad enough to rob justice of
+such a dangerous woman. I went to find the count; he coincided
+entirely with me; it was agreed that we should give, in all, twenty-five
+louis to the infamous wretch, so that she might subsist until she
+found employment. 'And what kind of employment can the Countess
+d'Orbigny find?' demanded she, insolently. 'That's your business; you
+might be something like a nurse or housekeeper; but, believe me, seek
+the most humble and obscure calling; for if you have the audacity to
+tell your title, which you owe to a crime, people will be astonished
+to see the Countess d'Orbigny reduced to such a condition; they will
+inquire, and you can judge of the consequences, if you are fool enough
+to noise abroad the past. Conceal yourself in some distant place;
+cause yourself to be forgotten; become Madame Pier re or Madame
+Jacques, and repent--if you can.' 'And do you think, sir,' said she to
+me, 'that I shall not claim the advantages secured to me by my
+marriage contract?' 'Certainly, madame, nothing can be more just; it
+would be unworthy of M. d'Orbigny not to execute his promises, and not
+to recognize all that you have done for him, and all you would have
+done. Sue, sue; address yourself to justice; I have no doubt the
+decision will be against your husband. A quarter of an hour after our
+conversation, the creature was on the road to the neighboring town."
+
+"You are right; it is painful to allow such a woman to escape with
+impunity; but the scandal of such a trial for this old man, already so
+much debilitated, is not to be thought of."
+
+"I have easily persuaded my father to leave Les Aubiers to-day,"
+resumed Rudolph, continuing to read the letter from Madame d'Harville:
+"too many sad recollections attend him here; although his health is
+delicate, the journey and change of air may be of service, as the
+physician says who has taken the place of Dr. Polidori. My father
+wished that he should analyze the contents of the vial, without
+informing him of what had passed; he answered that he could only do
+this at his own house, but that in two hours we should know the
+result. This was, that several doses of this liquid, prepared with
+infernal skill, would, in a given time, produce death, without leaving
+any traces.
+
+"In a few hours I leave with my father and daughter for Fontainebleau;
+we will remain there for some time; then, according to the wish of my
+father, we return to Paris, but not to my own house; it will be
+impossible for me to live there after the deplorable accident which
+has taken place.
+
+"Thus, as I have said, on commencing this letter, events show all that
+I owe to your highness's solicitude. Warned by you, aided by your
+advice, strong in the co-operation of your excellent and courageous
+Sir Walter, I have been able to snatch my father from certain death,
+and I am assured of the return of his tenderness.
+
+"Adieu! it is impossible for me to say more, my heart is too full: too
+many emotions agitate it; I should badly express all that I feel.
+
+   "D'ORBIGNY D'HARVILLE.
+
+"I open this letter in haste, your highness, to repair a neglect of
+which I am ashamed. In seeking, by your noble advice, to do some good,
+I went to the prison of Saint Lazare to visit the poor prisoners. I
+found there an unfortunate child in whom you are interested; Her
+angelic sweetness and pious resignation are the admiration of the
+matron who overlooks the inmates. To inform you where the Goualeuse
+(such I believe is her name) can be found is to request you to obtain
+her liberty. This unfortunate girl will relate to you by what a
+concourse of sinister circumstances, carried away from the asylum
+where you had placed her, she has been thrown into this prison, where
+she is appreciated for the purity of her conduct. Permit me also to
+recall to your highness's mind my two future _protegees_ the
+unhappy mother and daughter--despoiled by the notary Ferrand, Where
+are they? Have you had any information concerning them? Oh, I pray you
+endeavor to discover them, so that on my return to Paris I can pay
+them the debt which I have contracted toward all unfortunates!"
+
+"Goualeuse has, then, left the farm of Bouqueval?" cried Murphy, as
+much astonished as Rudolph at this new revelation.
+
+"I heard but just now that she was seen coming out of Saint Lazare,"
+answered Rudolph. "I am lost in conjecture; the silence of Madame
+George confounds and distresses me. Poor little Fleur-de-Marie, what
+new misfortunes have happened to you? Let a man on horseback be sent
+off at once to the farm, and write to Madame George that I beg her to
+come at once to Paris. Say also to M. de Graun, I wish an order to
+enter Saint Lazare. From what Madame d'Harville writes, Fleur-de-Marie
+is confined there; but no," said Rudolph, reflecting, "she is no
+longer a prisoner, for Rigolette saw her come out in company with an
+aged woman. Can it be Madame George? Otherwise, who is the woman?
+Where is the Goualeuse gone to?"
+
+"Patience, my lord; before to-night you shall know all about it.
+To-morrow you will have to interrogate this scoundrel Polidori; he has,
+he said, important communications to make to you, but to you alone."
+
+"The interview will be hateful to me," said Rudolph, sadly; "for I
+have never seen this man since the fatal day--when--"
+
+Rudolph could not finish; he concealed his face in his hands.
+
+"Why consent to what Polidori demands? Threaten him with the French
+courts, or an extradition on the Government; he must resign himself to
+confess to me what he is only willing to confess to you."
+
+"You are right, my good friend; for the sight of this wretch would
+render still more torturing these terrible recollections, to which are
+attached so many incurable griefs; from the death of my father to that
+of my poor little girl--I do not know but that the more I advance in
+life, the more I feel the loss of this child. How I should have adored
+her! how dear and precious to me had been this fruit of my first love,
+of my first and pure belief, or, rather, my young illusions!"
+
+"Stay, my lord; I see with pain the increasing sway which these
+regrets, as fruitless as cruel, have upon your mind."
+
+After a pause, Rudolph said to Murphy: "I can now make a confession to
+you, my old friend. I love--yes, I love passionately a woman worthy of
+the most noble and devoted affection. Ah! it is since my heart is
+opened anew to all the delights of love, since I am predisposed to
+tender emotions, that I feel more vividly the loss of my daughter."
+
+"Nothing can be plainer, my lord; and, pardon the comparison, but, in
+the same manner as certain men are joyous and benevolent in their
+intoxication, you are good and generous in your love."
+
+"Yet my hatred of the wicked is also become deep; my aversion to Sarah
+increases, doubtless with my grief for the death of my child. I
+imagine that this bad mother has neglected her; that her ambitious
+hopes once ruined by my marriage, the countess, in her selfish
+egotism, has abandoned our child to mercenary hands, and that my
+daughter perhaps died from want of care. It is also my fault; I did
+not then know the extent of the sacred duties of paternity. When the
+true character of Sarah was suddenly revealed to me, I should have at
+once taken my daughter from her, to watch over her with love and
+solicitude. I ought to have foreseen that the countess could never be
+more than an unnatural mother. It is my fault, my fault!"
+
+"Grief causes your highness to err. Could you, after such a fatal
+event had happened, defer for one day the long journey imposed on
+you--as--"
+
+"As an expiation! You are right, my friend," said Rudolph,
+sorrowfully.
+
+"Have you heard anything from the countess since my departure, my
+lord?"
+
+"No: since her infamous accusations, which twice came near proving the
+ruin of Madame d'Harville, I have no news of her. Her presence here
+annoys me; it seems that my evil spirit is near me, that some new
+misfortune threatens me."
+
+"Patience, your highness, patience. Happily, Germany is interdicted
+for her, and Germany expects us."
+
+"Yes; we will soon depart. At least, during my short stay at Paris I
+shall have accomplished a sacred duty: I shall have made some steps
+more in the worthy path which an august and merciful will pointed out
+to me for my redemption. As soon as the son of Madame George shall be
+restored to her arms, innocent and free; as soon as Jacques Ferrand
+shall be convicted and punished for his crimes; as soon as I shall be
+assured of the future comforts of all the honest and industrious
+creatures who, by their resignation, their courage, and their probity,
+have deserved my interest, we will return to Germany--my journey will
+not have been fruitless."
+
+"Above all, if you succeed in unmasking that abominable Jacques
+Ferrand, the corner-stone of so many crimes."
+
+"Although the end justifies the means, and scruples should have no
+weight as regards this scoundrel, sometimes I regret having employed
+Cecily in this just and avenging reparation."
+
+"She ought to arrive soon."
+
+"She has arrived."
+
+"Cecily?"
+
+"Yes; I did not wish to see her. De Graun has given her very detailed
+instructions; she has promised to conform to them."
+
+"Will she keep this promise?"
+
+"Everything seems to promise it--the hope of a mitigation of her
+punishment, and the fear of being sent immediately back to Germany;
+for De Graun has her well watched; at the slightest misstep he will
+demand her of the government."
+
+"It is just. She has arrived like an escaped convict: when they know
+what crimes caused her perpetual imprisonment, they would give her up
+at once."
+
+"Besides, De Graun was almost alarmed at the sagacity with which
+Cecily comprehended, or rather, guessed the part, inflaming and yet
+platonic, she was to play at the notary's.
+
+"But can she be introduced to him as early as you wish, through Mrs.
+Pipelet? People of the species of Jacques Ferrand are so suspicious."
+
+"I had, with reason, counted on the appearance of Cecily to combat and
+conquer this suspicion."
+
+"Has he already seen her?"
+
+"Yesterday. From the account given by Mrs. Pipelet, I do not doubt but
+that he was fascinated by the Creole; he took her at once into his
+service."
+
+"Come, my lord, our game is won."
+
+"I hope so; a ferocious cupidity and a savage thirst have led the
+executioner of Louise Morel to the most frightful misdeeds. It is in
+them that he will find the punishment of his crimes. A punishment
+which will not be barren for his victims; for you see the aim of all
+the efforts of the Creole."
+
+"Cecily! Never did greater depravity, never a more dangerous
+corruption, never a blacker soul serve to the accomplishment of a
+project of higher morality, or of a more equitable end; and David, my
+lord?"
+
+"He approves of all. With all the contempt and horror which he has for
+this creature, he only sees in her the instrument of a just vengeance.
+'If this cursed woman can ever merit any compassion after all the
+injury she has done me,' said he to me, 'it will be in devoting
+herself to the punishment of this scoundrel, for whom she must be an
+exterminating demon.'" A servant having tapped at the door, Murphy
+went out, and returned, bringing in two letters, one of which seemed
+intended for Rudolph.
+
+"It is a line from Madame George!" cried he, reading it rapidly.
+
+"Well, Goualeuse?"
+
+"No more doubt," cried Rudolph, after having read the letter; "another
+mysterious plot. The same evening on which the poor child disappeared,
+at the moment Madame George was about to inform me of the event, a
+man, whom she did not know, arrived express on horseback, came to her,
+as from me, to reassure her, saying I was informed of the sudden
+departure of Fleur-de-Marie, and that some day I would bring her back
+to the farm. Notwithstanding this notice, Madame George, uneasy at my
+silence respecting her _protegee_ cannot, she writes me, resist
+her desire to have some news of her cherished daughter, as she calls
+the poor child."
+
+"This is strange, my lord."
+
+"For what end should she have been carried off?"
+
+"My lord," said Murphy, suddenly, "the Countess M'Gregor is no
+stranger to this affair."
+
+"Sarah? What makes you think so?"
+
+"Compare this with her denunciations to Madame d'Harville."
+
+"You are right," cried Rudolph, a new light bursting upon him; it's
+evident: I comprehend now; yes, always the same calculation. The
+countess persists in believing, that by succeeding in breaking every
+tie of affection, she will make me feel the want of her. This is as
+odious as useless. Yet such an unworthy prosecution must have an end.
+It is not only against me, but against all who merit respect,
+interest, and pity, that this woman directs her attacks. You will send
+M. de Graun at once, officially, to the countess; he will declare to
+her that I am advised of the part she has taken in the abduction of
+Fleur-de-Marie, and that if she does not give me the necessary
+information, so that I can recover this unhappy child, I shall act
+without pity, and then it is to justice M. de Graun must address
+himself."
+
+"From the letter of Madame d'Harville, the Goualeuse must be confined
+at Saint Lazare."
+
+"Yes, but Rigolette affirms that she saw her free, coming out of this
+prison. There is a mystery to be cleared up."
+
+"I will go at once and give your highness's orders to Baron de Graun;
+but allow me to open this letter; it is from my correspondent at
+Marseilles, to whom I recommended the Chourineur, to facilitate the
+passage of the poor fellow to Algiers."
+
+"Well! has he gone?"
+
+"Here is something singular."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"After having waited at Marseilles a long time for a vessel to depart
+for Algiers, the Chourineur, who seemed every day more sad and
+thoughtful, suddenly declared, the day being fixed for his departure,
+that he preferred to return to Paris."
+
+"How singular!"
+
+"Although my correspondent had, as was agreed upon, placed a
+considerable sum of money at the disposal of the Chourineur, he only
+took what was absolutely necessary for him to return to Paris, where
+he will soon arrive, as they write me."
+
+"Then he will explain to us himself why he has changed his mind, but
+send De Graun at once to the Countess M'Gregor, and go yourself to
+Saint Lazare to gain some information concerning Fleur-de-Marie." In
+an hour's time the Baron de Graun returned from the countess's.
+
+Notwithstanding his habitual and official _sang froid_, the
+diplomatist seemed troubled; hardly had the usher announced him, than
+Rudolph remarked his paleness. "Well! De Graun, what is the matter?
+have you seen her?"
+
+"Oh! my lord."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Will your royal highness pardon me for informing you so suddenly of
+an event so fatal, so unlooked for, so--
+
+"The countess is dead?"
+
+"No, my lord, but her life is despaired of; she has been stabbed with
+a dagger."
+
+"Oh! it is frightful!" cried Rudolph, touched with pity,
+notwithstanding his aversion to Sarah. "Who has committed this crime?"
+
+"No one knows, my lord; the murder was accompanied by robbery; some
+one entered the apartment and carried off a large quantity of jewels."
+
+"And how is she now?"
+
+"Her life is almost despaired of, my lord; she has not yet recovered
+her consciousness. Her brother is in a state of distraction."
+
+"You must go every day to inquire after her, my dear De Graun."
+
+At this moment Murphy returned from Saint Lazare.
+
+"Learn sad news!" said Rudolph to him; "the countess has been wounded!
+her life is in great danger."
+
+"Oh! my lord; although she is very culpable, yet I cannot but pity
+her."
+
+"Yes; such an end would be frightful! And the Goualeuse?"
+
+"Set at liberty yesterday, my lord, supposed by the intervention of
+Madame d'Harville."
+
+"But it is impossible! Madame d'Harville begs me, on the contrary, to
+make the necessary arrangements to get her out of prison."
+
+"Doubtless; and yet, an aged woman, of respectable, appearance, came
+to Saint Lazare, bringing the order to set Fleur-de-Marie at liberty.
+Both have left the prison."
+
+"This is what Rigolette told me; but this aged woman, who is she?
+where have they gone to? what is this new mystery? The countess alone
+can enlighten us; and she is in a state to give us no information. May
+she not carry this secret with her to the grave?"
+
+"But her brother, Thomas Seyton, could certainly throw some light upon
+the affair. He has always been her adviser."
+
+"His sister is dying; some new plot is on foot; he will not speak;
+but," said Rudolph, reflecting, "we must find out the name of the
+person who applied for her release; thus we can learn something."
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Try, then, to know and see this person as soon as possible, my dear
+De Graun; if you do not succeed, put your M. Badinot on the trail;
+spare nothing to discover the poor child."
+
+"Your highness may count on my zeal."
+
+"My lord," said Murphy, "it is, perhaps, as well that the Chourineur
+returns; we may need his services for these researches."
+
+"You are right; and now I am impatient to see arrive at Paris my brave
+deliverer, the gallant, 'Slasher,' for I shall never forget that to
+him I owe my life."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Forced to extend the unfoldings of the evil and good machinations of
+the Grand-Duke Rudolph and his enemies into another volume, we do so,
+promising that even more singular characters, even more striking
+actions and engaging scenes, will be found in "Part Third: Night."
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysteries of Paris V2, by Eugene Sue
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS V2 ***
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