Mysteries of Paris Volume II Part 110

"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 a.s.sure 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 a.s.sistance. 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 a.s.sured of the sagacity of the companions of her solitude.

"Without doubt, nothing is more intelligent than grat.i.tude. 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?"