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The Mysteries of Paris V2

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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."

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