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Mysteries of Paris, V3

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"He has been so generous to you!"

"It is not that which makes me love him so much--it is because he said to
me that I had a heart and honor! yes, and at a time when I was as ferocious
as a wild beast, when I despised myself as the vilest of the vile, he made
me comprehend that there was still some good in me, since, my punishment
inflicted, I had repented, and after having suffered the utmost extremity
of want without being guilty of theft, I had industriously labored to gain
an honest livelihood: wishing to injure no one, although every one looked
upon me as a finished scoundrel, which was not very encouraging. It is
true, in most instances, all that is necessary to keep one in the right
path are words of encouragement and kindness. Is it not so, Martial? So
when M. Rudolph said these words to me, my heart beat high and proudly.
Since then I would go through fire to do a good action. Oh! that the
opportunity might offer! you would see--and to whom the thanks? the thanks
to M. Rudolph."

"Truly, since you are a thousand times better than you used to be, you
should not have such evil presentiments. Your dream signifies nothing."

"Well, we shall see. I do not purposely search for a misfortune; there can
be for me no greater one than that which has already happened; never to see
him more. M. Rudolph! I who thought never more to quit him. In my sphere, I
would have been at his service, body and soul, always ready. Well, perhaps
he is wrong. You know, Martial, that I am but an earth-worm in comparison
with him; well, sometimes it happens that the most insignificant can be
useful to the most powerful. If that should be the case, I would never
pardon him for depriving himself of my services."

"Who knows? one day, perhaps, he will recall you."

"Oh, no! he said to me, 'My good fellow, you must promise me that you will
never endeavor to see me again; by so doing, you will render me a service.'
You understand, Martial, I have promised; on the honor of a man, I will
keep my word; but it is hard."

"Once at our destination, you will forget, by degrees, your sorrow. We will
work, we will live retired and tranquil, like good farmers, except
occasionally trying our skill, as marksmen, on the Arabs. Ah! there La
Louve will help us."

"If it should come to blows, I am at home there, Martial," said the
Slasher, slightly animated. I am unmarried, and I have been a trooper."

"And I a poacher!"

"But you--you have a wife, and these two children whom you have adopted. As
for me, I have nothing but my hide, and since it can no longer serve as a
screen for M. Rudolph, I have no regard for it. So, if we should be obliged
to give them their change, it's my affair."

"Ah! we'll both have something to do with it."

"No; I alone--thunder! leave the Bedouins to me."

"Good; I would rather hear you speak thus than you did a short time since.
Come, Slasher, we will be true brothers, and you can converse with me of
your sorrow, if it endures, for I have my own. The recollection of this day
will last all my life. One cannot see his mother, his sister, as I have
seen mine, without forever bearing it in remembrance. Our situations are so
similar that it is good for us to be together. We will not fear to look
danger in the face; well, we will be half farmers, half soldiers. If we can
start any game, we will hunt. If you wish to live alone, you can do so, and
we will be near neighbors: if otherwise, we will all live together. We will
bring up the children like honest people, and you shall be, almost, their
uncle, while we will be brothers. How does it suit you?" said Martial,
offering his hand to the Slasher.

"It suits me well, my good Martial; and then, sorrow shall kill me or I
will kill it, as the saying is."

"It will not kill you--we shall grow old in our wilderness, and every night
we will say, brother, _thanks_ to M. Rudolph--that shall be our prayer
for him."

"Martial, you put balsam on my wound."

"Good; this foolish dream, you will think no more of it, I hope?"

"I will endeavor."

"Ah! well, you will call for us at four o'clock? the diligence starts at
five."

"It is agreed upon. But here we are in Paris; I will stop the coach, and go
on foot to the Barrière Charenton; I will await M. Rudolph, to see him
pass."

The carriage stopped, and the Slasher got out.

"Don't forget, at four o'clock, my good comrade," said Martial: "at four
o'clock!"

The Slasher had forgotten that it was the morning after Mid-Lent. So he was
much surprised at the spectacle, at the same time fantastic and hideous,
which was presented to his view when he walked through a part of the
exterior boulevard which he crossed on his way to the Barridre Charenton.




CHAPTER XXIX.

THE HAND OF HEAVEN.


The Slasher in a few moments was carried along, in spite of himself, by a
dense crowd, a popular torrent, which, descending from the taverns of the
Faubourg de la Glacière, collected around the approaches to the Barrière,
to pour out afterward on the Boulevard Saint Jacques, where the execution
was to take place. Although it was broad daylight, yet still could be heard
at a distance the resounding music of the orchestras of the drinking dens,
where, above all, could be distinguished the sonorous vibrations of the
cornets-à-piston.

It needs the pencil of Callot, or Rembrandt, or of Goya to portray the
bizarre, hideous, almost fantastical appearance of this multitude. Almost
all, men, women, children, were dressed in old masquerading costumes; those
who had not been able to obtain this luxury had fastened on their clothes
old rags, of flaunting colors; some young men were attired in women's
apparel, torn and soiled with mud; all these faces, haggard from debauch
and vice, bloated by intoxication, sparkled with savage joy, in thinking
that, after a night of drunken orgies, they were going to see the two women
put to death, for whom the scaffold was raised. The scum of the population
of Paris, an immense mob, was composed of bandits and abandoned women, who
demand each day from crime their daily bread, and who each night return
well filled to their dens. The exterior boulevard being very contracted at
this place, the closely-packed crowd entirely blocked up the passageway. In
spite of his athletic strength, the Slasher was obliged to remain almost
immovable in the midst of this compact mass; he submitted. The prince,
leaving the Rue Plumet at ten o'clock, as they had told him, would not
leave the Barrière Charenton until about eleven, and it was not yet seven.
Although formerly he had associated with the degraded classes to which this
mob belonged, the Slasher, on again finding himself among them, felt
invincible disgust. Crowded, by the reflux of the mob, against the wall of
one of the wine shops, which swarm on these boulevards, through the open
window from whence escaped the deafening sound of a brass band, the Slasher
saw, against his will, a strange spectacle. In a long low room (one end of
which was occupied by the musicians), surrounded by benches and tables
covered with the remains of a repast, broken plates, and overturned
bottles, a dozen men and women disguised, half drunk, were dancing _La
Chahut_ a dance which was never performed except at the end of the _ball_,
when the municipal guards had retired. Among the depraved couples who
figured in the revel, the Slasher remarked two who won applause above all
by the disgusting immodesty of their postures, gestures, and words. The
first couple were composed of a man nearly disguised as a bear, by means of
a waistcoat and trousers of black sheepskin. The head of the animal,
doubtless too heavy to carry, had been replaced by a kind of hood of long
hair, which entirely covered the face; two holes near the eyes, and a large
slit over the mouth, allowed him to see, speak, and breathe. This masked
man, one of the prisoners who had escaped from La Force (among whom were
also Barbillon and the two murderers arrested at the _tapisfranc_ at the
comencement of this story), was Nicholas Martial, the son and brother of
the women for whom the scaffold was erected close at hand. Dragged into
this act of inhuman insensibility by one of his companions, a formidable
ruffian, this wretch dared, with the aid of his disguise, to yield himself
to the last joys of the carnival. The woman with whom he danced was dressed
as a sutler, with a leathern cap rather the worse for wear, the ribbons
torn, a kind of jacket of faded red cloth, ornamented with three rows of
brass buttons, hussar-fashion; a green petticoat and pantaloons of white
calico; her black hair fell in disorder on her face; her ghastly and livid
features expressed impudence and effrontery. The _vis-à-vis_ of these
dancers were not less vile. The man of very tall stature, disguised as
Robert Macaire, had daubed his bony face with soot in such a manner that he
was not recognizable; besides a large band covered his left eye, and the
dead white of the right one, standing out in relief with the black face,
made it still more hideous. The lower part of the visage of Skeleton
(doubtless he has been recognized) disappeared entirely in a high cravat
made of an old red shawl. He wore, according to the tradition, a gray hat,
rasped, flattened, dirty, and without a crown; a green coat in tatters;
madder-colored pantaloons, patched in a thousand places, and tied around
the ankles with twine; this assassin, overdoing the most grotesque and most
impudent positions of the _Chahut_, now to the right, now to the left,
backward and forward, with his long limbs hard as iron, folded and unfolded
them with so much vigor and elasticity, that one would have said they were
hung on springs. Worthy corypheus of this Saturnalian, his partner, a tall,
brazen creature dressed as a _débardeur_ wearing a cap stuck on a powdered
wig with a long tail, had on a vest and trousers of green velvet, fastened
around her waist by an orange scarf, whose long ends floated behind. A fat,
masculine-looking woman, the Ogress of the _tapis-franc_, seated on one of
the benches, held on her lap the plaid cloaks of this creature and the
sutler, while they danced with their worthy companions. Among the other
dancers was remarked a little cripple dressed as a devil with the aid of a
black knit guernsey, much too large for him, red drawers, and a horrible
grinning green mask. Notwithstanding his infirmity, this little monster was
of surprising agility; his precocious depravity reached, if it did not
surpass, that of his frightful companions, and he gamboled away with equal
effrontery opposite his partner, a fat woman disguised as a shepherdess,
who excited still more the impudence of her partner by her shouts of
laughter.

No charge being brought against Tortillard, and Bras-Rouge having been
provisionally left in prison, the child, on the demand of his father, had
been reclaimed by Micou the receiver.

As secondary figures of the picture which we have endeavored to paint, let
the reader imagine all that is lowest, most shameless, and most monstrous
in this idle, reckless, rapacious, sanguinary debauch, which shows itself
more hostile to social order, and to which we have wished to call the
attention of reflecting persons on terminating this recital. May this last
horrible scene symbolize the imminent peril which continually menaces
society! Yes, let one reflect that the cohesion, the dreaded increase of
this race of robbers and murderers is a kind of living protest against the
defects of restraining laws, and, above all, against the absence of
preventive measures, of provident legislation, of preservative
institutions, destined to overlook and guard from infancy this crowd of
unfortunates, abandoned or perverted by frightful examples. Once more,
these disinherited beings, made neither better nor worse than other
creatures, do not become thus incurably corrupted but in the filth of
misery, ignorance, and brutality, where they crawl into existence. Still
more excited by the laughter, by the bravos of the crowd collected at the
windows, the actors of the abominable orgies which we now relate shouted to
the orchestra to play a last _galop_. The musicians, delighted at the
prospect of a termination to their labors, yielded to the general wish, and
played with energy a lively tune. At the vibrating sounds of the brazen
instruments, the excitement increased, the dancers appeared to be seized
with a sort of frenzy, and, following Skeleton, and his partner, commenced
a _ronde infernale_, uttering savage shouts. A thick dust, raised by
these furious shufflings, arose from the floor, and cast a kind of red
cloud around this whirlwind of men and women, who turned with giddy
rapidity. Soon--for these heads excited by wine, by the rapid motion, by
their own cries, it was no longer inebriety--it was delirium, it was
frenzy; room was wanting.

Skeleton cried with a breathless voice, "Clear the door! We are going
out--up on the boulevard."

"Yes, yes!" cried the dense crowd at the windows, "a _galop_ to the
Barrière Saint Jacques!"

"It will soon be time for them to shorten the two motts!"

"The executioner throws a double ace; it is _low!_"

"Accompanied by the French horn!"

"We will dance the cotillon by the guillotine!"

"Go ahead of the women without any head!" cried Tortillard.

"It will enliven the condemned."

"I invite the widow."

"I invite the daughter."

"That will make Jack Ketch gay."

"He will dance La Chahut in his shop with customers."

"Death to the nobs. Long live the leary coves and nailers!" cried Skeleton,
in a roar.

These jests, and cannibal threats, accompanied by vulgar songs, cries,
whistlings, shouts, were augmented still more when the band had made, by
its impetuous violence, a large opening through the middle of this compact
crowd. Then it was a frightful pell-mell; then were heard howlings,
imprecations, and bursts of mad laughter, which no longer appeared human.

The tumult was suddenly carried to its height by two new incidents.

The vehicle containing the condemned, accompanied by its escort of cavalry,
appeared in the distance at the corner of the boulevard; then all the mob
rushed in this direction, uttering a howl of ferocious satisfaction.

At this moment, also, the crowd was met by a courier coming from the
Boulevard des Invalides, and galloping toward the Barrière de Charenton. He
was dressed in a light blue jacket, with a yellow collar, laced with silver
on all the seams; but as a sign of deep mourning, he wore black breeches,
with heavy boots; his cap, also, bordered with silver was surrounded with a
crape. In fine, on the horses blinkers were, in relief, the sovereign arms
of Gerolstein.

The courier walked his horse; but, his progress becoming more and more
embarrassed, was almost obliged to stop when he found himself in the midst
of the crowd of which we have spoken. Although he cried "Take care!" and
guided his horse with the greatest precaution, cries, threats, abuses, soon
arose against him.

"Does he want to get on our backs with his camel, this fellow?"

"A silver door-plate on his body!" cried Tortillard, under his green mask
with its red tongue.

"If he gives us any cheek, we'll put him on his feet."

"And we'll cut off the jingles of his jacket to melt them," said Nicholas.

"And we'll rip you open if you are not satisfied, dirty footman," added
Skeleton, addressing the courier, and seizing the bridle of his horse, for
the crowd had become so dense that the bandit had relinquished his project
of dancing to the barrier.

The courier, a vigorous and resolute man, said to Skeleton, raising the
handle of his whip, "If you do not let go the bridle of my horse, I will
cut you across the face."

"You, you pitiful scoundrel?"

"Yes; I am walking my horse; I cry 'Take care!' you have no right to stop
me. The carriage of my lord follows me. I already hear the cracking of the
whips. Let me pass."

"Your lord?" said Skeleton. "What is your lord to me? I will knock him down
if it pleases me. I never have stabbed a lord: this gives me a desire to do
it."

"There are no more lords--Hooraw for the Revolution!" cried Tortillard, and
humming the lines of the _Parisienne_:

"Onward! on! upon their cannon!"

he caught hold of one of the courier's boots, and bearing with all his
weight, made him shake in his seat. A blow with the butt of his whip on the
head of Tortillard paid him for his audacity. But immediately the enraged
mob threw themselves upon the courier; he dashed the spurs into the sides
of his horse, and endeavored to disengage himself, but could not succeed;
neither was he able to draw his hunting-knife. Dismounted, thrown backward,
amid their cries and enraged shouts, he would have been killed, had it not
been for the arrival of Rudolph's carriage, which diverted the attention of
these wretches.

For some time the prince's coupé, drawn by four post-horses, went only at a
walk, and one of the two footmen, in mourning (on account of the Countess
M'Gregor's death) seated behind, had prudently descended, and stood near
one of the doors, the carriage being a very low one. The postilions cried,
"Look out!" and advanced with caution. Rudolph, as well as his daughter,
was dressed in deep mourning; holding one of her hands, he looked at her
with unspeakable happiness; the sweet, charming face of Fleur-de-Marie
appeared to advantage in her little black crape bonnet, which set off her
fair complexion and the brilliant tints of her beautiful flaxen hair; one
would have said that the azure of this fine day was reflected in her large
eyes, which never had been of a softer and more transparent blue. Although
her sweet smiling face expressed calmness and happiness, yet, when she
looked at her father, a shade of melancholy, sometimes even of indefinable
sadness, cast this shadow on the features of Fleur-de-Marie, when the eyes
of her father were turned away.

"You are displeased at my calling you so early this morning, and for having
advanced the moment of departure?" said Rudolph, smiling.

"Oh, no! father dear--the morning is so beautiful!"

"That was my thought; and our day's journey will be better divided by
leaving early, and you will be less fatigued. Murphy, my aids-de-camp, and
the carriage with your women, will join us at our first stopping-place,
where you will repose."

"Dear father, it is I only of whom you are always thinking."

"Yes, darling, it is impossible for me to have any other thought," said the
prince, smiling; then he added, with a burst of tenderness, "Oh! I love you
so much--I love you so much--your forehead--quick."

Fleur-de-Marie leaned toward her father, and Rudolph kissed her beautiful
forehead.

It was at this moment that the carriage, approaching the crowd, had
lessened its speed. Rudolph, much astonished let down the window, and said
in German to the foot-man who stood near the door, "Well, Franz, what is
the matter? what is this tumult?"

"There is such a crowd that the horses cannot your highness."

"And what is the reason of the crowd?"

"I have just heard that there is an execution about to take place, your
highness."

"Oh! this is frightful!" cried Rudolph, throwing himself back in the
carriage.

"What is the matter, father?" said Fleur-de-Marie, with anxiety.

"Nothing--nothing, my child."

"But these threatening cries--do you hear? they approach. What is that?"

"Franz, order the postilions to turn and go to Charenton by another road,
whatever it may be," said Rudolph.

"It is too late, your highness! we are in the crowd. They have stopped the
horses. Some ill-looking people--" The footman could not say another word.
The crowd, exasperated by the sanguinary shouts of Skeleton and Nicholas,
suddenly surrounded the carriage. In spite of the efforts and threats of
the postilions, the horses were stopped, and Rudolph saw himself surrounded
on all sides by horrible, threatening, and furious faces: pre-eminent among
all, from his great height, was Skeleton, who advanced to the carriage
door.

"Father, take care!" cried Fleur-de-Marie, throwing her arms around
Rudolph's neck.

"Is it you, then, who are the lord?" said the Skeleton, thrusting his
hideous head into the carriage.

At this insolence, Rudolph would have given way to the natural violence of
his charcter, had it not been for the presence of his daughter; but he
restrained himself, and answered cooly, "What do you want? Why do you stop
my carriage?"

"Because it pleases us," said Skeleton, placing his bony hands on the door.
"Every one in his turn; yesterday you trampled on the poor man; today the
poor man will trample on you, if you stir."

"Father, we are lost!" murmured Fleur-de-Marie in a low voice.

"Compose yourself--I comprehend," said the prince; "it is the last day of
the carnival. These people are drunk. I will soon get rid of them."

"We must make him get out, and his mott also," cried Nicholas. "Why should
they trample on poor folks?"

"You appear to be drunk, and doubtless have a desire to drink more," said
Rudolph, taking a purse from his pocket. "Here, this is for you; do not
detain my carriage any longer." And he threw out his purse. Tortillard
caught it.

"Exactly; you are going a journey; your pockets must be well lined, so hand
out some more money or I will kill you. I have nothing to risk. I ask you
for your money or your life in broad daylight. It is a rare old game!" said
Skeleton, completely intoxicated with wine and rage; and he roughly opened
the door. The patience of Rudolph was exhausted; uneasy for Fleur-de-Marie,
whose alarm increased at each moment, and thinking that a decided stand
would overawe this wretch, whom he thought intoxicated, he sprung from his
carriage to seize Skeleton by the throat. At first the latter drew back
quickly, taking from his pocket a long knife; then he threw himself upon
Rudolph. Fleur-de-Marie, seeing the poniard of the villain raised against
her father, uttered a piercing scream, sprung out of the carriage, and
clasped her arms around him. Without the aid of the Slasher, they would
have perished. He, at the commencement of the affray, having recognized the
livery of the prince, had succeeded, after superhuman efforts, in
approaching the Skeleton. At the moment that he threatened the prince with
his knife, the Slasher with one hand grasped the arm of the villain, and
with the other seized him by the throat, and gave him the trip backward.
Although taken by surprise, Skeleton turned, recognized the Slasher, and
cried, "Blue Cap of La Force! this time I kill you;" and throwing himself
furiously on the Slasher, he plunged the knife into his breast.

The Slasher staggered, but did not fall; the crowd supported him.

"The guard! here is the guard!" cried several voices.

At these words, at sight of the assassination of the Slasher, the dense
crowd, fearing to be compromised in the murder, dispersed as by
enchantment, and fled in all directions. When the guard arrived, guided by
the courier, who had succeeded in making his escape when the mob had
abandoned him to surround the carriage, there only remained on the mournful
scene Rudolph, his daughter, and the Slasher covered with blood. The two
footmen had seated him on the ground, with his back against a tree. All
this had passed a thousand times more rapidly than it is possible to write
it, at some steps from the wine shop whence had issued Skeleton and his
band. The prince, pale and agitated, supported the fainting Fleur-de-Marie
in his arms, while the postilions readjusted the traces, which had been
injured.

"Quick!" said the prince to his people, who were occupied in assisting the
Slasher. "Carry this unfortunate man into this tavern. And you," added he,
addressing his courier, "get on the box, and drive with all speed to the
hotel for Dr. David. He was not to leave before eleven o'clock: you will
find him there."

Some minutes afterward, the carriage was rapidly driven off, and the two
domestics carried the Slasher into the saloon where the orgies had taken
place, and where still remained some of the women who had figured in it.

"My poor child," said Rudolph to his daughter, "I will lead you to a
chamber in this house, and you will await me there; for I cannot abandon
solely to the care of my people this courageous man, who has once more
saved my life."

"Oh! father, I entreat you, do not leave me!" cried Fleur-de-Marie with
alarm, clinging to the arm of Rudolph. "Do not leave me alone. I would die
with fear. I will go where you go--"

"But this is a frightful sight!"

"But, thanks to this man, you live for me, father; at least, permit me to
unite with you in thanking and consoling him."

The perplexity of the prince was great; his daughter seemed so much alarmed
at remaining alone, that he was obliged to allow her to accompany him to
the room where the Slasher had been carried. The master of the tavern,
assisted by several of the women who had remained (among whom was the
Ogress of the White Rabbit), had in haste laid the wounded man upon a
mattress, and then stanched his wound with napkins. The Slasher had just
opened his eyes, when Rudolph entered. At the sight of the prince, his
countenance of deathlike paleness, brightened up a little; he smiled
painfully, and said to him, in a feeble voice:

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