Other People's Money Part 21

"She was an excellent woman, although the grief she had felt at the loss of her husband had somewhat deranged her faculties.

"As soon as it was decided that I was to remain, she desired to inspect my trousseau. I had none to show her, possessing nothing in the world but the rags on my back. As long as I had remained with the laundress, I had finished wearing out her old dresses; and I had never worn any other under-clothing save that which I borrowed, 'by authority,' from the clients,-an economical system adopted by many laundresses.

"Dismayed at my state of dest.i.tution, my new mistress sent for a seamstress, and at once ordered wherewith to dress and change me.

"Since the death of the poor gardeners, this was the first time that any one paid any attention to me, except to exact some service of me. I was moved to tears; and, in the excess of my grat.i.tude, I would gladly have died for that kind old lady.

"This feeling gave me the courage and the constancy required to bear with her whimsical nature. She had singular manias, disconcerting fancies, ridiculous and often exorbitant exactions. I lent myself to it all as best I could.

"As she already had two servants, a cook and a chambermaid, I had myself no special duties in the house. I accompanied her when she went out riding. I helped to wait on her at table, and to dress her. I picked up her handkerchief when she dropped it; and, above all, I looked for her snuff-box, which she was continually mislaying.

"She was pleased with my docility, took much interest in me, and, that I might read to her, she made me learn to read, for I hardly knew my letters. And the old man whom she gave me for a teacher, finding me intelligent, taught me all he knew, I imagine, of French, of geography, and of history.

"The chambermaid, on the other hand, had been commissioned to teach me to sew, to embroider, and to execute all sorts of fancy-work; and she took the more interest in her lessons, that little by little she shifted upon me the most tedious part of her work.

"I would have been happy in that pretty house at La Jonchere, if I had only had some society better suited to my age than the old women with whom I was compelled to live, and who scolded me for a loud word or a somewhat abrupt gesture. What would I not have given to have been allowed to play with the young girls whom I saw on Sundays pa.s.sing in crowds along the road!

"As time went on, my old mistress became more and more attached to me, and endeavored in every way to give me proofs of her affection. I sat at table with her, instead of waiting on her, as at first. She had given me clothes, so that she could take me and introduce me anywhere.

"She went about repeating everywhere that she was as fond of me as of a daughter; that she intended to set me up in life; and that certainly she would leave a part of her fortune to me.

"Alas! She said it too loud, for my misfortune,-so loud, that the news reached at last the ears of some nephews of hers in Paris, who came once in a while to La Jonchere.

"They had never paid much attention to me up to this time. Those speeches opened their eyes: they noticed what progress I had made in the heart of their relative; and their cupidity became alarmed.

"Trembling lest they should lose an inheritance which they considered as theirs, they united against me, determined to put a stop to their aunt's generous intentions by having me sent off.

"But it was in vain, that, for nearly a year, their hatred exhausted itself in skillful manoeuvres.

"The instinct of preservation stimulating my perspicacity I had penetrated their intentions, and I was struggling with all my might. Every day, to make myself more indispensable, I invented some novel attention.

"They only came once a week to La Jonchere: I was there all the time. I had the advantage. I struggled successfully, and was probably approaching the end of my troubles, when my poor old mistress was taken sick. After forty-eight hours, she was very low. She was fully conscious, but for that very reason she could appreciate the danger; and the fear of death made her crazy.

"Her nieces had come to sit by her bedside; and I was expressly forbidden to enter the room. They had understood that this was an excellent opportunity to get rid of me forever.

"Evidently gained in advance, the physicians declared to my poor benefactress that the air of La Jonchere was fatal to her, and that her only chance of recovery was to establish herself in Paris. One of her nephews offered to have her taken to his house in a litter. She would soon get well, they said; and she could then go to finish her convalescence in some southern city.

"Her first word was for me. She did not wish to be separated from me, she protested, and insisted absolutely upon taking me with her. Her nephews represented gravely to her that this was an impossibility; that she must not think of burdening herself with me; that the simplest thing was to leave me at La Jonchere; and that, moreover, they would see that I should get a good situation.

"The sick woman struggled for a long time, and with an energy of which I would not have thought her capable.

"But the others were pressing. The physicians kept repeating that they could not answer for any thing, if she did not follow their advice. She was afraid of death. She yielded, weeping.

"The very next morning, a sort of litter, carried by eight men, stopped in front of the door. My poor mistress was laid into it; and they carried her off, without even permitting me to kiss her for the last time.

"Two hours later, the cook and the chambermaid were dismissed. As to myself, the nephew who had promised to look after me put a twenty-franc-piece in my hand saying, 'Here are your eight days in advance. Pack up your things immediately, and clear out!'"

It was impossible that Mlle. Lucienne should not be deeply moved whilst thus stirring the ashes of her past. She showed no evidence of it, however, except, now and then, a slight alteration in her voice.

As to Maxence, he would vainly have tried to conceal the pa.s.sionate interest with which he was listening to these unexpected confidences.

"Have you, then, never seen your benefactress again?" he asked.

"Never," replied Mlle. Lucienne. "All my efforts to reach her have proved fruitless. She does not live in Paris now. I have written to her: my letters have remained without answer. Did she ever get them? I think not. Something tells me that she has not forgotten me."

She remained silent for a few moments, as if collecting herself before resuming the thread of her narrative. And then, "It was thus brutally," she resumed, "that I was sent off. It would have been useless to beg, I knew; and, moreover, I have never known how to beg. I piled up hurriedly in two trunks and in some bandboxes all I had in the world,-all I had received from the generosity of my poor mistress; and, before the stated hour, I was ready. The cook and the chambermaid had already gone. The man who was treating me so cruelly was waiting for me. He helped me carry out my boxes and trunks, after which he locked the door, put the key in his pocket; and, as the American omnibus was pa.s.sing, he beckoned to it to stop. And then, before entering it, "'Good luck, my pretty girl!' he said with a laugh.

"This was in the month of January, 1866. I was just thirteen. I have had since more terrible trials, and I have found myself in much more desperate situations: but I do not remember ever feeling such intense discouragement as I did that day, when I found myself alone upon that road, not knowing which way to go. I sat down on one of my trunks. The weather was cold and gloomy: there were few persons on the road. They looked at me, doubtless wondering what I was doing there. I wept. I had a vague feeling that the well-meant kindness of my poor benefactress, in bestowing upon me the blessings of education, would in reality prove a serious impediment in the life-struggle which I was about to begin again. I thought of what I suffered with the laundress; and, at the idea of the tortures which the future still held in store for me, I desired death. The Seine was near: why not put an end at once to the miserable existence which I foresaw?

"Such were my reflections, when a woman from Rueil, a vegetable-vender, whom I knew by sight, happened to pa.s.s, pushing her hand-cart before her over the muddy pavement. She stopped when she saw me; and, in the softest voice she could command, "'What are you doing there, my darling?' she asked.

"In a few words I explained to her my situation. She seemed more surprised than moved.

"'Such is life,' she remarked,-'sometimes up, sometimes down.'

"And, stepping up nearer, "'What do you expect to do now?' she interrogated in a tone of voice so different from that in which she had spoken at first, that I felt more keenly the horror of my altered situation.

"'I have no idea,' I replied.

"After thinking for a moment, "'You can't stay there,' she resumed: 'the gendarmes would arrest you. Come with me. We will talk things over at the house; and I'll give you my advice.'

"I was so completely crushed, that I had neither strength nor will. Besides, what was the use of thinking? Had I any choice of resolutions? Finally, the woman's offer seemed to me a last favor of destiny.

"'I shall do as you say, madame,' I replied.

"She proceeded at once to load up my little baggage on her cart. We started; and soon we arrived 'home.'

"What she called thus was a sort of cellar, at least twelve inches lower than the street, receiving its only light through the gla.s.s door, in which several broken panes had been replaced by sheets of paper. It was revoltingly filthy, and filled with a sickening odor. On all sides were heaps of vegetables,-cabbages, potatoes, onions. In one corner a nameless heap of decaying rags, which she called her bed; in the centre, a small cast-iron stove, the worn-out pipe of which allowed the smoke to escape in the room.

"'Anyway,' she said to me, 'you have a home now!'

"I helped her to unload the cart. She filled the stove with coal, and at once declared that she wanted to inspect my things.

"My trunks were opened; and it was with exclamations of surprise that the woman handled my dresses, my skirts, my stockings.

"'The mischief!' she exclaimed, 'you dressed well, didn't you?'

"Her eyes sparkled so, that a strong feeling of mistrust arose in my mind. She seemed to consider all my property as an unexpected G.o.dsend to herself. Her hands trembled as she handled some piece of jewelry; and she took me to the light that she might better estimate the value of my ear-rings.

"And so, when she asked me if I had any money, determined to hide at least my twenty-franc-piece, which was my sole fortune, I replied boldly, 'No.'

"'That's a pity,' she grumbled.

"But she wished to know my history, and I was compelled to tell it to her. One thing only surprised her,-my age; and in fact, though only thirteen, I looked fully sixteen.

"When I had done, "'Never mind!' she said. 'It was lucky for you that you met me. You are at least certain now of eating every day; for I am going to take charge of you. I am getting old: you'll help me to drag my cart. If you are as smart as you are pretty, we'll make money.'

"Nothing could suit me less. But how could I resist? She threw a few rags upon the floor; and on them I had to sleep. The next day, wearing my meanest dress, and a pair of wooden shoes which she had bought for me, and which bruised my feet horribly, I had to harness myself to the cart by means of a leather strap, which cut my shoulders and my chest. She was an abominable creature, that woman; and I soon found out that her repulsive features indicated but too well her ign.o.ble instincts. After leading a life of vice and shame, she had, with the approach of old age, fallen into the most abject poverty, and had adopted the trade of vegetable-vender, which she carried on just enough to escape absolute starvation. Enraged at her fate, she found a detestable pleasure in ill-treating me, or in endeavoring to stain my imagination by the foulest speeches.

"Ah, if I had only known where to fly, and where to take refuge! But, abusing my ignorance, that execrable woman had persuaded me, that, if I attempted to go out alone, I would be arrested. And I knew no one to whom I could apply for protection and advice. And then I began to learn that beauty, to a poor girl, is a fatal gift. One by one, the woman had sold every thing I had,-dresses, underclothes, jewels; and I was now reduced to rags almost as mean as when I was with the laundress.

"Every morning, rain or shine, hot or cold, we started, wheeling our cart from village to village, all along the Seine, from Courbevoie to Pont-Marly. I could see no end to this wretched existence, when one evening the commissary of police presented himself at our hovel, and ordered us to follow him.

"We were taken to prison; and there I found myself thrown among some hundred women, whose faces, words, and gestures frightened me. The vegetable-woman had committed a theft; and I was accused of complicity. Fortunately I was easily able to demonstrate my innocence; and, at the end of two weeks, a jailer opened the door to me, saying, 'Go: you are free!'"

Maxence understood now the gently ironical smile with which Mlle. Lucienne had heard him a.s.sert that he, too, had been very unhappy. What a life hers had been! And how could such things be within a step of Paris, in the midst of a society which deems its organization too perfect to consent to modify it!

Mlle. Lucienne went on, speaking somewhat faster, "I was indeed free; but of what use could my freedom be to me? I knew not which way to go. A mechanical instinct took me back to Rueil. I fancied I would be safer among people who all knew me, and that I might find shelter in our old lodgings. But this last hope was disappointed. Immediately after our arrest, the owner of the building had thrown out every thing it contained, and had rented it to a hideous beggar, who offered me, with a giggle, to become his housekeeper. I ran off as fast as I could.

"The situation was certainly more horrible now than the day when I had been turned out of my benefactress' house. But the eight months I had just spent with the horrible woman had taught me anew how to bear misery, and had nerved up my energy.

"I took out from a fold of my dress, where I had kept it constantly hid, the twenty-franc-piece I had received; and, as I was hungry, I entered a sort of eating and lodging house, where I had occasionally taken a meal. The proprietor was a kind-hearted man. When I had told him my situation, he invited me to remain with him until I could find something better. On Sundays and Mondays the customers were plenty; and he was obliged to take an extra servant. He offered me that work to do, promising, in exchange, my lodging and one meal a day. I accepted. The next day being Sunday, I commenced the arduous duties of a bar-maid in a low drinking house. My pourboires amounted sometimes to five or ten francs; I had my board and lodging free; and at the end of three months I had been able to provide myself with some decent clothing, and was commencing to acc.u.mulate a little reserve, when the lodging-house keeper, whose business had unexpectedly developed itself to a considerable extent, concluded to engage a man-waiter, and urged me to look elsewhere for work. I did so. An old neighbor of ours told me of a situation at Bougival, where she said I would be very comfortable. Overcoming my repugnance, I applied, and was accepted. I was to get thirty francs a month.

"The place might have been a good one. There were only three in the family,-the gentleman and his wife, and a son of twenty-five. Every morning, father and son left for Paris by the first train, and only came home to dinner at about six o'clock. I was therefore alone all day with the woman. Unfortunately, she was a cross and disagreeable person, who, never having had a servant before, felt an insatiable desire of showing and exercising her authority. She was, moreover, extremely suspicious, and found some pretext to visit regularly my trunks once or twice a week, to see if I had not concealed some of her napkins or silver spoons. Having told her that I had once been a laundress, she made me wash and iron all the clothes in the house, and was forever accusing me of using too much soap and too much coal. Still I liked the place well enough; and I had a little room in the attic; which I thought charming, and where I spent delightful evenings reading or sewing.

"But luck was against me. The young gentleman of the house took a fancy to me, and determined to make me his mistress. I discouraged him in a way; but he persisted in his loathsome attention, until one night he broke into my room, and I was compelled to shout for help with all my might, before I could get rid of him.

"The next day I left that house; but I tried in vain to find another situation in Bougival. I resolved then to seek a place in Paris. I had a big trunk full of good clothes, and about a hundred francs of savings; and I felt no anxiety.

"When I arrived in Paris, I went straight to an intelligence-office. I was extremely well received by a very affable old woman who promised to get me a good place, and, in the mean time, solicited me to board with her. She kept a sort of boarding-house for servants out of place; and there were there some fifty or sixty of us, who slept at night in long dormitories.

"Time went by, and still I did not find that famous place. The board was expensive, too, for my scanty means; and I determined to leave. I started in quest of new lodgings, followed by a porter, carrying my trunk; but as I was crossing the Boulevard, not getting quick enough out of the way of a handsome private carriage which was coming at full trot, I was knocked down, and trampled under the horses's feet."

Without allowing Maxence to interrupt her, "I had lost consciousness," went on Mlle. Lucienne. "When I came to my senses, I was sitting in a drugstore; and three or four persons were busy around me. I had no fracture, but only some severe contusions, and a deep cut on the head.

"The physician who had attended me requested me to try and walk; but I could not even stand on my feet. Then he asked me where I lived, that I might be taken there; and I was compelled to own that I was a poor servant out of place, without a home or a friend to care for me.

"'In that case,' said the doctor to the druggist, 'we must send her to the hospital.'

"And they sent for a cab.

"In the mean time, quite a crowd had gathered outside, and the conduct of the person who was in the carriage that had run over me was being indignantly criticised. It was a woman; and I had caught a glimpse of her at the very moment I was falling under the horses' feet. She had not even condescended to get out of her carriage; but, calling a policeman, she had given him her name and address, adding, loud enough to be heard by the crowd, 'I am in too great a hurry to stop. My coachman is an awkward fellow, whom I shall dismiss as soon as I get home. I am ready to pay any thing that may be asked.'

"She had also sent one of her cards for me. A policeman handed it to me; and I read the name, Baronne de Thaller.

"'That's lucky for you,' said the doctor. 'That lady is the wife of a very rich banker; and she will be able to help you when you get well.'

"The cab had now come. I was carried into it; and, an hour later, I was admitted at the hospital, and laid on a clean, comfortable bed.

"But my trunk!-my trunk, which contained all my things, all I had in the world, and, worse still, all the money I had left. I asked for it, my heart filled with anxiety. No one had either seen or heard of it. Had the porter missed me in the crowd? or had he basely availed himself of the accident to rob me? This was hard to decide.

"The good sisters promised that they would have it looked after, and that the police would certainly be able to find that man whom I had engaged near the intelligence-office. But all these a.s.surances failed to console me. This blow was the finishing one. I was taken with fever; and for more than two weeks my life was despaired of. I was saved at last: but my convalescence was long and tedious; and for over two months I lingered with alternations of better and of worse.

"Yet such had been my misery for the past two years, that this gloomy stay in a hospital was for me like an oasis in the desert. The good sisters were very kind to me; and, when I was able, I helped them with their lighter work, or went to the chapel with them. I shuddered at the thought that I must leave them as soon as I was entirely well; and then what would become of me? For my trunk had not been found, and I was dest.i.tute of all.

"And yet I had, at the hospital, more than one subject for gloomy reflections. Twice a week, on Thursdays and Sundays, visitors were admitted; and there was not on those days a single patient who did not receive a relative or a friend. But I, no one, nothing, never!

"But I am mistaken. I was commencing to get well, when one Sunday I saw by my bedside an old man, dressed all in black, of alarming appearance, wearing blue spectacles, and holding under his arm an enormous portfolio, crammed full of papers.

"'You are Mlle. Lucienne, I believe,' he asked.

"'Yes,' I replied, quite surprised.

"'You are the person who was knocked down by a carriage on the corner of the Boulevard and the Faubourg St. Martin?'

"'Yes sir.'

"'Do you know whose equipage that was?'

"'The Baronne de Thaller's, I was told.'

"He seemed a little surprised, but at once, "'Have you seen that lady, or caused her to be seen in your behalf?'

"'No.'

"'Have you heard from her in any manner?'

"'No.'

"A smile came back upon his lips.

"'Luckily for you I am here,' he said. 'Several times already I have called; but you were too unwell to hear me. Now that you are better, listen.'

"And thereupon, taking a chair, he commenced to explain his profession to me.

"He was a sort of broker; and accidents were his specialty. As soon as one took place, he was notified by some friends of his at police headquarters. At once he started in quest of the victim, overtook her at home or at the hospital, and offered his services. For a moderate commission he undertook, if needs be, to recover damages. He commenced suit when necessary; and, if he thought the case tolerably safe, he made advances. He stated, for instance, that my case was a plain one, and that he would undertake to obtain four or five thousand francs, at least, from Mme. de Thaller. All he wanted was my power of attorney. But, in spite of his pressing instances, I declined his offers; and he withdrew, very much displeased, a.s.suring me that I would soon repent.

"Upon second thought, indeed, I regretted to have followed the first inspiration of my pride, and the more so, that the good sisters whom I consulted on the subject told me that I was wrong, and that my reclamation would be perfectly proper. At their suggestion, I then adopted another line of conduct, which, they thought, would as surely bring about the same result.

"As briefly as possible, I wrote out the history of my life from the day I had been left with the gardeners at Louveciennes. I added to it a faithful account of my present situation; and I addressed the whole to Mme. de Thaller.

"'You'll see if she don't come before a day or two,' said the sisters.

"They were mistaken. Mme. de Thaller came neither the next nor the following days; and I was still awaiting her answer, when, one morning, the doctor announced that I was well enough to leave the hospital.

"I cannot say that I was very sorry. I had lately made the acquaintance of a young workwoman, who had been sent to the hospital in consequence of a fall, and who occupied the bed next to mine. She was a girl of about twenty, very gentle, very obliging, and whose amiable countenance had attracted me from the first.

"Like myself, she had no parents. But she was rich, very rich. She owned the furniture of the room, a sewing-machine, which had cost her three hundred francs, and, like a true child of Paris, she understood five or six trades, the least lucrative of which yielded her twenty-five or thirty cents a day. In less than a week, we had become good friends; and, when she left the hospital, "'Believe me,' she said: 'when you come out yourself, don't waste your time looking for a place. Come to me: I can accommodate you. I'll teach you what I know; and, if you are industrious, you'll make your living, and you'll be free.'

"It was to her room that I went straight from the hospital, carrying, tied in a handkerchief, my entire baggage,-one dress, and a few undergarments that the good sisters had given me.

"She received me like a sister, and after showing me her lodging, two little attic-rooms shining with cleanliness, "'You'll see,' she said, kissing me, 'how happy we'll be here.'"

It was getting late. M. Fortin had long ago come up and put out the gas on the stairs. One by one, every noise had died away in the hotel. Nothing now disturbed the silence of the night save the distant sound of some belated cab on the Boulevard. But neither Maxence nor Mlle. Lucienne were noticing the flight of time, so interested were they, one in telling, and the other in listening to, this story of a wonderful existence. However, Mlle. Lucienne's voice had become hoa.r.s.e with fatigue. She poured herself a gla.s.s of water, which she emptied at a draught, and then at once, "Never yet," she resumed, "had I been agitated by such a sweet sensation. My eyes were full of tears; but they were tears of grat.i.tude and joy. After so many years of isolation, to meet with such a friend, so generous, and so devoted: it was like finding a family. For a few weeks, I thought that fate had relented at last. My friend was an excellent workwoman; but with some intelligence, and the will to learn, I soon knew as much as she did.

"There was plenty of work. By working twelve hours, with the help of the thrice-blessed sewing-machine, we succeeded in making six, seven, and even eight francs a day. It was a fortune.

"Thus several months elapsed in comparative comfort.