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The Mysteries of Paris V2

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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!"

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