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The Mysteries of Paris V2

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"In pacing before the little door of the garden, to my great
astonishment I saw it open. I entered that way, and I carried the key
to the cabinet of M. Ferrand, where it was ordinarily kept. This was,
next to his bed-chamber, the most retired place in the house: it was
there he gave his secret audiences. You will see, sir, why I give you
these details. Knowing all the ways of the house very well, after
having crossed the dining-room, which was lighted, I entered into the
saloon in the dark, then to the cabinet, as I said before. The door of
his chamber opened at the moment I placed the key on the table. Hardly
had my master perceived me by the light which was burning in his
chamber, than he closed the door quickly on a person whom I could not
see. Then he threw himself on me, seized me by the throat as if he
wished to strangle me, and said to me in a low tone, at once furious
and alarmed, 'You were spying; you listened at the door; what did you
hear? Answer, answer! or I'll strangle you.' But changing his mind,
without giving me time to say a word, he pushed me backward into the
dining-room. The office was open; he threw me into it brutally, and
locked the door."

"And you heard nothing of his conversation?"

"Nothing, sir: if I had known he had anybody in the room, I should
have taken care not to have entered the cabinet; he forbade even Mrs.
Seraphin to do so."

"And when you came out of the office, what did he say to you?"

"It was the housekeeper who came to conduct me, and I did not see him
again that night. The alarm I had experienced had made me very ill.
The next morning, as I came downstairs, I met M. Ferrand. I shuddered
in thinking of his threats of the evening previous; what was my
surprise when he said to me, almost calmly, 'You know I forbid any one
to come into my cabinet when I have some one in my chamber; but for
the short time that you have to remain here, it is useless to scold
any more,' and he passed into his office. This moderation surprised
me, after the violence of the previous evening. I went on with my
usual duties; I went to put in order his sleeping apartment. In
arranging some clothes in a dark closet near the alcove, I was
suddenly taken very ill; I felt that I was about to faint. In falling,
I grasped at a cloak which was hanging against the wall. I dragged it
along with me; it covered me completely as I lay upon the floor. When
I came to myself, the glass door of this closet was shut. I heard the
voice of M. Ferrand. He spoke very loud. Recollecting the scene of the
previous evening, I thought myself killed if I stirred. I supposed
that, concealed under the mantle which had fallen on me, my master, in
shutting the door, had not perceived me. If he discovered me, how
could I make him believe that my presence was accidental? I held my
breath, and, in spite of myself, I heard the end of this conversation,
which doubtless had been commenced for some time."

"Who was the person who was talking with him?" asked Rudolph.

"I am ignorant, sir; I did not know the voice."

"And what did they say?"

"The conversation had lasted for some time, doubtless, for this is all
I heard. 'Nothing can be plainer,' said this unknown voice. 'A queer
fish, called Bras-Rouge (Red-Arm), a determined smuggler, has brought
me, for the affair I have just spoken about, in connection with a
family of fresh-water pirates, who are established at the point of a
little island near Aspires. They are the greatest bandits in the land;
the father and grandfather have both been guillotined, two of the sons
are to the galleys for life; but the mother, three sons, and two
daughters are left, all as great villains one as the other. It is said
that at night, to rob on both sides of the Seine, they come down in
their boats sometimes as far as Barky. They are folks who will kill
the first comer for a crown; but we have no need of them; it suffices
if they will give hospitality to your country lady. The Martial (the
name of my pirates) will pass in her eyes for an honest family of
fishermen. I will go on your account, and make two or three visits to
your young lady; I will order her certain potions, and at the end of
eight days she will make acquaintance with Aspires Cemetery. In the
villages, a death passes like a letter through the post-office, while
at Paris they scrutinize too closely. But when will you send your
country girl to the island, so that I can advise the Martial what part
they have to play?' 'She will arrive to-morrow, and the day after she
will be there,' answered Ferrand; 'and I will inform her that the
Doctor Vincent will take care of her on my account.' 'Agreed for the
name of Vincent,' said the voice; 'I like that as well as any other.'"

"What is this new mystery of crime and infamy?" said Rudolph, more and
more surprised.

"New? no, sir; you will see that it has reference to a crime that you
do know," answered Louise; and she continued, "I heard the movement of
chairs; the conversation was at an end. 'I do not ask you to be
secret,' said M. Ferrand; 'you hold me as I hold you.' 'That proves
that we can serve, but never injure one another,' answered the voice;
'see my zeal. I received your letter last night at ten o'clock; this
morning I am here. Farewell, accomplice; do not forget the Island of
Asnieres, the fisher Martial, and Dr. Vincent. Thanks to these three
magical words, your country girl has only eight days left.' 'Stop,'
said M. Ferrand, 'while I go and unbolt the door of my cabinet, and
see if there is any one in the ante-chamber, that you may go out by
the garden, as you came in.' M. Ferrand went out a moment, and then
returned, and finally I heard him go off with the unknown person. You
may imagine my alarm, sir, during this conversation, and my horror at
knowing such a secret. Two hours after this conversation, Mrs.
Seraphin came to seek me in my chamber, where I had gone more
trembling and sick than I had yet been. 'M. Ferrand wants you,' said
she; 'you have more good luck than you deserve; come, descend. You are
very pale; what you are going to learn will give you more color.'

"I followed Mrs. Seraphin; M. Ferrand was in his cabinet. At seeing
him, I shuddered in spite of myself; yet he had a less wicked look
than usual; he looked at me fixedly for a long time, as if he wished
to read my thoughts. I cast down my eyes. 'You appear very ill,' said
he. 'Yes, sir,' I answered, astonished that he did not address me
familiarly as usual. 'It is very plain,' added he, 'it is in
consequence of your situation; but notwithstanding your lies, your bad
conduct, and your indiscretion of yesterday,' added he, in a softened
tone, 'I have pity on you. Although I have treated you as you deserved
before the cure of the parish, such an affair as this will be a
scandal to my house; and, moreover, your family will be in despair. I
consent, under these circumstances to come to your assistance.' 'Ah,
sir,' I cried, 'these words of kindness on your part make me forget
all.' 'Forget what?' asked he sharply. 'Nothing, nothing; pardon me,
sir,' answered I, fearing to irritate him, and believing in his
professions of pity. 'Listen to me,' said he; 'you will go to see your
father to-day; you will announce to him that I am going to send you
for two or three months in the country to take charge of a house I
have just bought; during your absence I will send him your wages.
To-morrow you will leave Paris; I will give you a letter of
recommendation for Mrs. Martial, the mother of a family of honest
fishermen who live near Asnieres. You will require to say you came
from the country, nothing more. Later you will know the object of this
letter, all for your interest. Mrs. Martial will treat you as her
child; a physician, a friend of mine, Dr. Vincent, will take you under
his charge. You see how good I am for you!'"

"What a horrible plot!" cried Rudolph. "Now I comprehend all.
Believing that the evening previous you had become possessed of a
secret of great importance to him, he wished to get rid of you. He had
probably some interest in deceiving his accomplice, in representing
you as a girl from the country. What must have been your affright at
this proposition!"

"It was a great blow. I was completely bewildered; I knew not what to
answer; I looked at M. Ferrand with affright; my mind wandered. I was
about, perhaps, to risk my life in telling him that I had overheard
his projects in the morning, when, happily, I recollected the new
dangers to which this would expose me. 'You do not comprehend me,
then?' asked he, with impatience. 'Yes, sir, but,' said I, trembling,
'I prefer not to go to the country.' 'Why not? You will be perfectly
well taken care of where I shall send you. 'No, no, I will not go; I
prefer to remain in Paris, near my family; I had rather confess all,
die with shame, if it is necessary.' 'You refuse me!' said M. Ferrand,
restraining his anger, and looking at me with attention. 'Why have you
changed your mind so quickly? Just now you accepted.' I saw that if he
suspected me I was lost; I answered that I did not think that he meant
me to leave Paris and my family. 'But you will dishonor your family,
wretch,' cried he; and not being able any longer to contain himself,
he seized me by the arm, and pushed me so violently that I fell. 'I
give you until after to-morrow,' cried he; 'to-morrow you shall leave
this to go to the Martials, or to tell your father I have sent you
away, and that he goes the same day to prison.' I remained alone,
stretched on the earth; I had not the strength to get up. Mrs.
Seraphin came, and with her assistance I regained my chamber. I threw
myself on my bed; I remained there until night."

* * * * * * *

"Amid the horrors of this frightful, solitary night, I had a moment of
bitter joy: it was when I pressed my child in my arms." And the voice
of Louise was suffocated with her tears.

Morel had listened to the story of his daughter with an apathy and
indifference which alarmed Rudolph. Yet, seeing her in tears, he
looked fixedly at her and said: "She weeps--she weeps; why, then, does
she weep? Oh, yes; I know, I know--the notary. Continue, my poor
Louise; you are my child. I love you still--just now I did not know
you; my tears obscured my sight. Oh, my head--my head--it gives me
great pain."

"You see I am not culpable; is it not so, father?"

"Yes, yes."

"It is a great sorrow--but I feared the notary so much!"

"The notary? Oh! I believe you--he is so bad--so wicked!"

"You pardon me now?"

"Yes."

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly. Oh, I love you still--go--although--I cannot--say--do you
see--because--oh! my head! my bead!"

Louise looked at Rudolph with alarm.

"He suffers; let him compose himself. Continue."

"I pressed my child to my heart. I was astonished not to hear it
breathe, but I said to myself, the respiration of so young a child can
hardly be heard; and yet it seemed to me that it was very cold. I had
no light. I waited until dawn, trying to warm it as well as I could,
At daylight I found it was stiff--icy. I placed my hand on its heart;
it did not beat--it was dead."

And Louise burst into bitter sobs.

"Oh! at this moment," continued she, "thoughts passed impossible to
describe, I remember it confusedly as a dream; it was at once despair,
terror, anger, and, above all, I was seized with another alarm; I no
longer dreaded that Ferrand would strangle me, but I feared that if my
child was found dead at my side I should be accused of having killed
it. Then I had but one thought, that of concealing it from all eyes;
in that way my dishonor would not be known; I would no longer have to
dread the anger of my father; I should escape the vengeance of
Ferrand; then I could leave his house, procure another place, and
continue to earn something toward the support of my family. Alas! sir,
such are the reasons which induced me to acknowledge nothing, to
conceal the body of my child from all eyes. It was wrong, certainly;
but the position I was in, overwhelmed on all sides, crushed by long
sufferings, almost delirious, I did not reflect to what I exposed
myself if I was discovered."

"What tortures! what tortures!" said Rudolph, overcome.

"Daylight increased," continued Louise, "in a short time every one
would be awake in the house. I hesitated no longer. I wrapped up my
child as well as I could; I descended very softly; I went to the end
of the garden to make a hole in the ground to bury it, but it had
frozen all night--the earth was too hard. Then I hid the body at the
bottom of a kind of cellar where no one entered in winter. I covered
it with an empty flower-box, and I returned to my room without seeing
any one. Of all I tell you, sir, I have but a confused idea. Feeble as
I was, I can as yet hardly comprehend how I had the nerve to do all
this. At nine o'clock, Mrs. Seraphin came to know why I was not yet
up. I said that I was so ill, that I begged her to let me remain in
bed all day; the next day I would quit the house, since M. Ferrand
sent me away. At the end of one hour he came himself. 'You are worse;
this is the consequence of your self-will,' said he. 'If you had
profited by my offers, to-day you would have been established with
kind people, who would have taken every care of you; however, I will
not be so inhuman as to let you suffer; to-night Dr. Vincent will come
to see you.' At this threat I shuddered with fear. I answered that I
was wrong the night before to refuse his offers; that I accepted them;
but that, as yet being too ill to leave, I would go the next day but
one to the Martials; and that it was useless to send for Dr. Vincent.
I only wished to gain time; I was decided to leave the house, and to
go to my father. I hoped in this manner he would be ignorant of all.
But, deceived by my promise, M. Ferrand was almost affectionate toward
me, and recommended me, for the first time in his life, to the care of
Mrs. Seraphin.

"I passed the day in mental agony, trembling at each moment that
chance would cause a discovery of the body of my child. I only desired
one thing--that the cold might cease, so that I might be able to dig a
grave. It snowed--that gave me hopes. I remained all day in bed. The
night being come, I waited until every one was asleep. I had strength
to get up to go to the wood pile to look for a hatchet to cut some
wood to make a hole in the frozen ground. After infinite trouble I at
last succeeded; then I took the body, I wept over it again, and I
buried it as I could in the little flower-box. I did not know the
prayer for the dead; I said a pater and an ave, praying God to receive
it. I thought my courage would have failed me when I covered it with
the earth. A mother interring her child! At length I succeeded. Oh!
what it cost me! I placed the snow over the grave, so that nothing
should be seen. The moon gave me light. When all was finished, I could
not make up my mind to come away. Poor little thing! in the frozen
ground--under the snow. Although it was dead, it seemed to me that it
must feel the cold. At length I returned to my chamber. I went to my
bed with a violent fever. In the morning M. Ferrand sent to know how I
was. I answered that I felt rather better, and that I should certainly
be ready to leave for the country the next day. I remained all this
day still in bed, in order to gain strength. In the evening I arose. I
went to the kitchen to warm myself. I remained late, all alone. I went
to the garden to say a last prayer. At the moment I ascended toward my
chamber, I met M. Germain on the landing-place of the cabinet, where
he sometimes worked; he was very pale. He said to me, quickly, placing
a rouleau in my hand, 'Your father will be arrested early to-morrow
morning; here is the money; as soon as it is day run to his house. It
is only to-day I have found out Ferrand; he is a bad man; I will
unmask him. Do not, above all, say that you have this money from me.'
And M. Germain, not giving me time to thank him, descended the stairs
quickly."




CHAPTER IV.

MADNESS.


Louise continued: "This morning, before any one was up, I came here
with the money, but it was not sufficient; and, without your
generosity, he would not have escaped the bailiffs. Probably, after my
departure, some one had gone to my room and discovered some traces
which had led to this discovery. A last service I ask of you, sir,"
said Louise, drawing out the rouleau of gold from her pocket; "will
you hand this money to M. Germain? I promised him not to tell any one
that he was employed at Ferrand's; but since you know it, I have not
been indiscreet. Now, sir, I repeat, before God, who hears me, and
before you, I have not said a word that is not true. I have not sought
to "--but, interrupting herself suddenly, Louise, much alarmed, cried,
"Oh, sir! look at my father! look at him! What is the matter with
him?"

Morel had listened to the last part of this narrative with somber
indifference, which Rudolph had explained to himself by attributing it
to the overwhelming grief of this unhappy man. After so many violent
shocks, so oft repeated, his tears were dried up, his sensibility
blunted--he has not even strength enough left to vent his indignation,
thought Rudolph.

He was mistaken. Like the flickering light of a lamp about to expire,
the reason of Morel, already strongly shaken, vacillated for some
time, showed forth now and then some last rays of intelligence, and
then suddenly became obscured.

Absolutely a stranger to what was said, to what passed around him, for
some moments the artisan had become mad!

Although his wheel was placed the other side of his work-table, and he
had in his hands neither diamonds nor tools, the artisan, attentively
occupied, imitated his ordinary occupations. He accompanied this
pantomime with a clacking noise with his tongue, like the wheel when
in operation.

"Oh, sir!" said Louise, with increased alarm; "look at my father!"
Then, approaching him, she said, "Father! father!"

Morel looked at his daughter with that vacant stare peculiar to
lunatics. Without ceasing for a moment his imaginary occupation, he
answered, in a soft and mournful voice, "I owe thirteen hundred francs
to the notary, the price of Louise's blood. I must work, work, work!
Oh! I will pay, pay, pay!"

"This is not possible! This cannot last! He is not altogether mad is
he?" cried Louise, in a heart-rending tone, "He will come to himself--
it is only momentary----"

"Morel, my friend," said Rudolph, "we are here. Your daughter is
alongside of you; she is innocent."

"Thirteen hundred francs," said the artisan, without looking at
Rudolph, and continuing his imaginary occupation.

"Father," cried Louise, throwing herself at his feet, and taking hold
of his hands, "it is I, Louise!"

"Thirteen hundred francs," repeated he, endeavoring to disengage
himself from Louise; "thirteen hundred francs, or else," added he, in
a low and confidential tone, "or else Louise is guillotined," and he
began to turn his wheel.

Louise uttered a piercing cry. "He is mad," cried she, "he is mad! and
it is I--I--who am the cause. Oh, yet it Is not my fault; I did not
wish to do wrong; it is this monster!"

"Come, poor child, courage!" said Rudolph, "let us hope. This madness
will be but momentary. Your father has suffered too much, his reason
has become weakened, he will get better."

"But my mother--my grandmother--my brothers and sister! what will
become of them?" cried Louise. "See, they are deprived of both my
father and myself. They will die with hunger, with poverty, and
despair!"

"Am I not here? Be calm, they shall want for nothing. Courage, I pray
you: your revelation will cause the punishment of a great criminal.
You have convinced me of your innocence; it shall certainly be known
and acknowledged."

"Oh, sir, you see dishonor--madness--death; these are the evils he has
caused--this man; nothing can be done to him--nothing. Ah, this
thought completes all my troubles!"

"Far from that; let a contrary thought aid you in supporting them."

"What do you say, sir?"

"Carry with you the certainty that you shall be avenged."

"Avenged!"

"Yes, I swear to you," answered Rudolph, with solemnity, that, his
crimes proved, this man shall severely expiate the dishonor, madness,
and death he has caused. If the laws are powerless, if his cunning and
address equal his misdeeds, to his cunning shall be opposed cunning--
to his misdeeds, misdeeds--but which shall be to them what the just
and avenging punishment, inflicted on the culpable by an inexorable
hand, is to the cowardly and concealed murder."

"Ah, sir, may God hear you! It is not myself I wish to revenge, it is
my crazy father; it is"--then, turning to her father, she cried,
"Father, farewell. They take me to prison--I shall never see you more;
it is your Louise who bids you farewell--father, father, father!"

At this touching appeal nothing responded; nothing responded in this
poor annihilated mind--nothing. The paternal cords, always the last
broken, vibrated no more.

The garret door opened, and the officer entered.

"My time is up, sir," said he to Rudolph. "I declare to you, with
regret, that it is impossible for me to wait any longer."

"The conversation is terminated, sir," answered Rudolph bitterly,
pointing to the artisan. "Louise has nothing more to say to her
father; he has nothing more to hear from his daughter--he is mad."

"Good God! just what I feared. Ah, it is frightful," cried the
magistrate; and approaching quickly to the artisan, after a moment's
examination he was convinced of the sad reality. "Ah, sir," said he,
sadly, to Rudolph, "I have already made sincere wishes that the
innocence of this young girl may be proved; but now I will not confine
myself to wishes--no, no, I will tell of this last dreadful blow; and,
do not doubt it, the judges will have a motive the more to find her
innocent."

"Well, well, sir," said Rudolph, "in acting thus, it is not only your
duty you fulfill, but you are performing a worthy part."

"Believe me, sir, some of our missions are so painful, that it is with
happiness, with gratitude, that we interest ourselves in what is good
and virtuous."

"One word more, sir. The revelations of Louise Morel have evidently
proved to me her innocence. Can you inform me how her pretended crime
has been discovered, or rather denounced?"

"This morning," said the magistrate, "a woman in the employ of M.
Ferrand, notary, came and declared to me that, after the precipitate
flight of Louise Morel, who she knew was _enceinte_, she had gone
up into the chamber of this young girl, and that she had there found
traces of a clandestine accouchement; after some investigations, some
footsteps in the snow had led to the discovery of a newborn child
interred in the garden. On the relation of this woman, I went to the
Rue du Sentier. I found M. Jacques Ferrand very indignant that such a
thing should have occurred in his house. The priest of Bonne Nouvelle
Church, whom he had sent for, also declared to me that the girl Morel
had acknowledged her fault before him one day; that she had implored
the pity and indulgence of her master, and that, still more, he had
often heard M. Ferrand give Louise Morel the most severe reprimands,
predicting that, sooner or later, she would be ruined. 'A prediction
which had just been realized so unfortunately,' added the priest. The
indignation of M. Ferrand," continued the magistrate, "appeared to me
so real, that I partook of it. He told me that, without doubt, Louise
Morel had taken refuge at her father's. I came here at once; the crime
being flagrant, I had the right to proceed to an immediate arrest."

Rudolph restrained himself in hearing the indignation of M. Ferrand
spoken of. He said to the magistrate, "I thank you a thousand times,
sir, for your kindness and for the assistance you tender Louise. I
shall conduct this unfortunate man to a lunatic hospital, as well as
the mother of his wife." Then, addressing Louise, who yet kneeled
before her father, trying in vain to restore him to reason, "Be
resigned, my child, to go without embracing your mother; spare her
this touching farewell. Be assured as to her welfare--nothing shall
henceforth be wanting. I will find a woman who will take care of your
mother, and your brothers and sisters, under the superintendence of
your good neighbor, Miss Dimpleton. As to your father, nothing shall
be spared, that his cure shall be rapid and complete. Courage, then;
believe me, virtuous people are often harshly tried by misfortunes,
but they always come out of these struggles purer, stronger, and more
respected."

* * * * * * *

Two hours after the arrest of Louise, the artisan and the old idiot
were, by the orders of Rudolph, conducted to Charenton; they were to
have chamber treatment, and receive particular care and attention.
Morel left the house without assistance; indifferent, he went where
they took him; his madness was inoffensive and sad. The grand mother
had hunger; they showed her food; she followed this food.

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