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The Mysteries of Paris V2

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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.'

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