Frederique Volume II Part 40

"He ain't in; he went away this morning, and won't be back to-day."

"Monsieur Bouqueton must be here, then, and what we have to say to his friend Saint-Germain, we can say to him just as well."

The woman looked at us distrustfully, then said:

"Yes, Monsieur Bouqueton's here--since this morning. Wait, while I go and call him. Go into that room; I'll tell him some friends of Monsieur Saint-Germain want to see him."

We entered a room on the ground floor, taking care not to go near the window, so that we might not be seen from outside.

After a few minutes, we heard heavy steps coming downstairs; they stopped at the door of the room in which we were, and Monsieur Dauberny appeared.

He gazed at us for several seconds in amazement; but, on scrutinizing me more closely, he seemed disturbed. However, he tried to recover himself, and said:

"What can I do for you, messieurs?"

"We have come in search of Mignonne Landernoy, a young woman whom you caused to be kidnapped yesterday morning as she was coming away from Pere-Lachaise."

Dauberny could not control a sudden start; but he affected an air of tranquillity, and replied:

"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, monsieur. I suppose that you mistake me for somebody else."

"No, I know you quite well. Search your memory. You saw me once at your house in Paris; you are Monsieur Dauberny; Bouqueton is the name you a.s.sume in your love intrigues! I know you perfectly, monsieur, as you see!"

Frederique's husband looked at me for some instants, then a.s.sumed a mocking expression, and rejoined:

"And you are my wife's lover--the man who lives with her at Fontenay-sous-Bois. You see that I know you too."

"If your wife has a liaison in which her heart is engaged, monsieur, your abominable conduct makes her only too excusable."

"Monsieur!"

"Let us have done with this! Where is Mignonne? Give that young woman up to us; we will not leave this house without her."

"I don't know what you mean, and I order you to leave the house."

Instead of complying, Balloquet and I walked up to Monsieur Dauberny, and I held before his eyes the hand in which was Annette's ring.

"What about this--do you know what this means?" I said.

At sight of the ring, Dauberny turned a greenish white and fell into a chair. Balloquet seized his arm.

"It was I," he said, "who attended the unhappy Annette, the woman you murdered! She is dead; but I received her full confidence, and we are familiar with your crime to its smallest details."

Dauberny could not speak. Great drops of sweat rolled down his forehead; he took a key from his bosom and held it out to us with a trembling hand, stammering almost inaudibly:

"On the second floor. Mignonne is on the second floor."

I motioned to Balloquet to stay with Dauberny, while I flew upstairs to the second floor. I found two doors; the one at the rear was locked. I opened it and found Mignonne on her knees, praying, in a corner of the room. When she heard the door open, she gave a shriek and ran toward the window; but I called her by name; she recognized my voice, and fell unconscious to the floor. Poor girl! joy sometimes kills. I took her in my arms and carried her downstairs. The air revived her; when we reached the yard, she opened her eyes and smiled at me.

"You have saved me again!" she cried.

Balloquet heard our voices and joined us. I told him to take Mignonne to the cab; then I returned to Dauberny, who was still in the lower room, pale and trembling, like a criminal awaiting his doom.

"Monsieur," said I, "we will hold our peace concerning your crime; but you must go away, leave France, and never let your wife see you again."

He motioned that he would obey me, and I made haste to join my friends.

Ballangier was like one mad with joy; he seized Mignonne's hands and kissed them, and I made haste to tell the young woman that but for Ballangier we should have known absolutely nothing of her abduction, and that he was her savior.

Thereupon she gave Ballangier her hand.

"Poor boy!" she said.

She told us that the night before, in a narrow, lonely street, two men, who doubtless were watching for her, had suddenly seized her and taken her to a cab which was waiting a few yards away. To prevent her crying out, one of them held a handkerchief over her mouth; but that precaution was unnecessary in the carriage, as terror had deprived her of the use of her senses.

On recovering consciousness, she found herself in the little house at Montmartre. A man, whom from her description I identified as Faisande, was with her, and tried to allay her fears.

"You will see my friend Bouqueton to-night," he said. "You will come to an understanding with him, for he's a good fellow; he seems to be in love with you."

Mignonne threw herself at his feet, imploring him to set her free. He contented himself with locking her in a room, where the shockingly ugly old hag brought her food. The evening pa.s.sed, and no one came. Mignonne did not close her eyes during the night. At last, about eight in the morning, another man, whom she recognized as the one who had insulted her on the street, appeared before her and informed her that she must be his mistress. Mignonne repulsed him with horror, and he left her, saying:

"Weep, shriek--it will do no good; you will be much wiser to make the best of it; we will dine together this evening, and I will pa.s.s the night with you."

Mignonne, alone once more, had determined to die rather than yield to that man; having no weapon, she had resolved to jump out of the window when he returned to her room. Then she prayed--and it was at that moment that I arrived. It was time.

At last we were at my rooms once more. Frederique was awaiting us; she embraced Mignonne, then insisted that I should tell her all. I had not the strength to speak. The intensely exciting scenes that I had pa.s.sed through had inflamed my wound; I was in terrible pain, and I swooned.

L

A PRESENTATION

It seems that I was ill a week; my wound threw me into a fever; then, I was delirious, and a scratch that should have amounted to nothing became a serious matter as a result of the events following my duel.

But I became convalescent at last, I was restored to health and happiness; for Frederique was there, beside my bed, watching for my first glance. Tears fell from her eyes when I held out my hand to her.

"Saved!" she cried; "saved! Ah! Balloquet was right when he said that you were cured; but I dared not believe him!"

I saw two other persons stealing softly toward the bed; they were Mignonne and Ballangier. I shook their hands; I tried to thank them; but Frederique begged me not to speak yet. I could smile at them, and that was something.

Madame Dauberny had learned from Balloquet how we had succeeded in rescuing Mignonne. He had not concealed from her that Monsieur Bouqueton was poor Annette's murderer. Frederique had taken an oath never again to live under the same roof with that man. For my part, I did not believe that he would ever venture to reappear in society.

Health returns quickly when the heart is at peace. A few days later, I was walking on the boulevards, leaning on Frederique's arm.