The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Iii Part 11

"What did he say? Speak."

"Interrupting me with much indignation and well-feigned surprise, he affected not to understand my meaning, and even inquired whether I had not lost my senses. Terrified, I exclaimed, 'Oh, sir, what is to become of me? Alas, if you have no pity on me, pity at least the poor infant that must soon see the light!'

"'What a lost, depraved character!' cried M. Ferrand, raising his clasped hands towards heaven. 'Horrible, indeed! Why, you poor, wretched girl, is it possible that you have the audacity to accuse me of disgracing myself by any illicit acquaintance with a person of your infamous description? Can it be that you have the hardihood to lay the fruits of your immoral conduct and gross irregularity at my door,--I, who have repeated a hundred times, in the presence of respectable witnesses, that you would come to ruin some day, vile profligate that you are? Quit my house this instant, or I will drive you out!'"

Rodolph and Morel were struck with horror; a system of wickedness like this seemed to freeze their blood.

"By Heaven!" said Rodolph, "this surpa.s.ses any horrors that imagination could have conceived."

Morel did not speak, but his eyes expanded fearfully, whilst a convulsive spasm contracted his features. He quitted the stool on which he was sitting, opened a drawer suddenly, and, taking out a long and very sharp file, fixed in a wooden handle, he rushed towards the door.

Rodolph, guessing his thoughts, seized his arm, and stopped his progress.

"Morel, where are you going? You will do a mischief, unhappy man!"

"Take care," exclaimed the infuriated artisan, struggling, "or I shall commit two crimes instead of one!" and the madman threatened Rodolph.

"Father, it is our benefactor!" exclaimed Louise.

"He is jesting at us; he wants to save the notary," replied Morel, quite crazed, and struggling with Rodolph. At the end of a second, the latter disarmed him, carefully opened the door, and threw the file out on the staircase. Louise ran to the lapidary, embraced him, and said:

"Father, it is our benefactor! You have raised your hand against him,--recover yourself."

These words recalled Morel to himself, and hiding his face in his hands, he fell mutely on his knees before Rodolph.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Morel fell back on the stool._ Original Etching by Adrian Marcel.]

"Rise, rise, unhappy father," said Rodolph, in accents of great kindness; "be patient, be patient, I understand your wrath and share your hatred; but, in the name of your vengeance, do not compromise your daughter!"

"Louise!--my daughter!" cried the lapidary, rising, "but what can justice--the law--do against that? We are but poor wretches, and were we to accuse this rich, powerful, and respected man, we should be laughed to scorn. Ha! ha! ha!" and he laughed convulsively, "and they would be right. Where would be our proofs?--yes, our proofs? No one would believe us. So, I tell you--I tell you," he added, with increased fury, "I tell you that I have no confidence but in the impartiality of my knife."

"Silence, Morel! your grief distracts you," said Rodolph to him sorrowfully; "let your daughter speak; the moments are precious; the magistrate waits; I must know all,--all, I tell you; go on, my child."

Morel fell back on the stool, overwhelmed with his anguish.

"It is useless, sir," continued Louise, "to tell you of my tears, my prayers. I was thunderstruck. This took place at ten o'clock in the morning in M. Ferrand's private room. The curate was coming to breakfast with him, and entered at the moment when my master was a.s.sailing me with reproach and accusations. He appeared much put out at the sight of the priest."

"What occurred then?"

"Oh, he soon recovered himself, and exclaimed, call him by name, 'Well, Monsieur l'Abbe, I said so, I said this unhappy girl would be undone.

She is ruined, ruined for ever; she has just confessed to me her fault and her shame, and entreated me to save her. Only think that, from commiseration, I have received such a wanton into my house!' 'How,' said the abbe to me with indignation, 'in spite of the excellent counsels which your master has given you a hundred times in my presence, have you really sunk so low? Oh, it is unpardonable! My friend, my friend, after the kindness you have evinced towards this wretched girl and her family, any pity would be weakness. Be inexorable,' said the abbe, the dupe, like the rest of the world, of M. Ferrand's hypocrisy."

"And you did not unmask the scoundrel on the spot?" asked Rodolph.

"Ah, no! monsieur, I was terrified, my head was in a whirl, I did not dare, I could not p.r.o.nounce a word,--yet I was anxious to speak and defend myself. 'But sir--' I cried. 'Not one word more, unworthy creature,' said M. Ferrand, interrupting me. 'You heard M. l'Abbe. Pity would be weakness. In an hour you leave my house!' Then, without allowing me time to reply, he led the abbe into another room. After the departure of M. Ferrand," resumed Louise, "I was almost bereft of my senses for a moment. I was driven from his house, and unable to find any home elsewhere, in consequence of my condition, and the bad character which my master would give with me. I felt sure, too, that in his rage he would send my father to prison; and I did not know what to do. I went to my room, and there I wept bitterly. At the end of two hours M.

Ferrand appeared. 'Is your bundle made up?' said he. 'Pardon,' I exclaimed, falling at his feet, 'do not turn me from your house in my present condition. What will become of me? I have no place to turn to.'

'So much the better; this is the way that G.o.d punishes loose behaviour and falsehood.' 'Dare you say that I tell falsehood?' I asked, indignantly, 'dare you say that it is not you who have caused my ruin?'

'Leave my house this moment, you wretch, since you persist in your calumnies!' he replied in a terrible voice; 'and to punish you I will to-morrow send your father to the gaol.' 'Well, no, no!' said I, terrified; 'I will not again accuse you, sir; that I promise you; but do not drive me away from the house. Have pity on my father. The little I earn here helps to support my family. Keep me here; I will say nothing. I will endeavour to hide every thing; and when I can no longer do so, oh, then, but not till then, send me away!' After fresh entreaties on my part, M. Ferrand consented to keep me with him; and I considered that a great favour in my wretched condition. During the time that followed this cruel scene, I was most wretched, and miserably treated; only sometimes M. Germain, whom I seldom saw, kindly asked me what made me unhappy; but shame prevented me from confessing anything to him."

"Was not that about the time when he came to reside here?"

"Yes, sir, he was looking out for an apartment near the Rue du Temple or de l'a.r.s.enal. There was one to let here, and I told him of that one which you now occupy, sir, and it suited him exactly. When he quitted it, about two months ago, he begged me not to mention his new address here, but that they knew it at M. Ferrand's."

The necessity under which Germain was to conceal himself from those who were trying to find him explained all these precautions to Rodolph.

"And it never occurred to you to make a confidant of Germain?" he said to Louise.

"No, sir, he was also a dupe to the hypocrisy of M. Ferrand; he called him harsh and exacting; but he thought him the honestest man on the face of the earth."

"When Germain was lodging here, did he never hear your father at times accuse the notary of desiring to seduce you?"

"My father never expressed his fears before strangers; and besides, at this period, I deceived his uneasiness, and comforted him by the a.s.surances that M. Ferrand no longer thought of me. Alas! my poor father will now forgive me those falsehoods? I only employed them to tranquillise your mind, father dear, that was all."

Morel made no reply; he only leaned his forehead on his two arms, crossed on his working-board, and sobbed bitterly.

Rodolph made a sign to Louise not to address herself to her father, and she continued thus:

"I led from this time a life of tears and perpetual anguish. By using every precaution, I had contrived to conceal my condition from all eyes; but I could not hope thus to hide it during the last two months. The future became more and more alarming to me, as M. Ferrand had declared that he would not keep me any longer in the house; and therefore I should be deprived of the small resources which a.s.sisted our family to live. Cursed and driven from my home by my father, for, after the falsehoods I had told him to set his mind at ease, he would believe me the accomplice, and not the victim of M. Ferrand, what was to become of me? where could I find refuge or place myself in my condition? I then had a criminal idea; but, fortunately, I recoiled from putting it into execution. I confess this to you, sir, because I will not keep any thing concealed, not even that which may tell against myself; and thus I may show you the extremities to which I was reduced by the cruelty of M.

Ferrand. If I had given way to such a thought, would he not have been the accomplice of my crime?"

After a moment's silence, Louise resumed with great effort, and in a trembling voice:

"I had heard say by the porteress that a quack doctor lived in the house,--and,--"

She could not finish.

Rodolph recollected that, at his first interview with Madame Pipelet, he had received from the postman, in her absence, a letter written on coa.r.s.e paper, in a feigned hand, and on which he had remarked the traces of tears.

"And you wrote to him, unhappy girl, three days since? You wept over your letter; and the handwriting was disguised."

Louise looked at Rodolph in great consternation.

"How did you know that, sir?"

"Do not alarm yourself; I was alone in Madame Pipelet's lodge when they brought in the letter; and I remarked it quite accidentally."

"Yes, sir, it was mine. In this letter, which bore no signature, I wrote to M. Bradamanti, saying that, as I did not dare to go to him, I would beg him to be in the evening near the Chateau d'Eau. I had lost my senses. I sought fearful advice from him; and I left my master's house with the intention of following them; but, at the end of a minute, my reason returned to me, and I saw what a crime I was about to commit. I returned to the house, and did not attend the appointment I had written for. That evening an event occurred, the consequences of which caused the misfortune which has overwhelmed me. M. Ferrand thought I had gone out for a couple of hours, whilst, in reality, I had been gone but a very short time. As I pa.s.sed before the small garden gate, to my great surprise I saw it half open. I entered by it, and took the key into M.

Ferrand's private room, where it was usually kept. This apartment was next to his bedroom, the most retired place in the house; and it was there he had his private meetings with clients and others, transacting his every-day business in the office. You will see, sir, why I give you these particulars. As I very well knew the ways of the apartments, after having crossed the dining-room, which was lighted up, I entered into the salon without any candle, and then into the little closet, which was on this side of his sleeping-room. The door of this latter opened at the moment when I was putting the key on a table; and the moment my master saw me by the light of the lamp, which was burning in his chamber, then he suddenly shut the door on some person whom I could not see, and then, in spite of the darkness, rushed towards me and, seizing me by the throat as if he would strangle me, said, in a low voice, and in a tone at once savage and alarmed, 'What! listening!--spying at the door! What did you hear? Answer me,--answer directly, or I'll strangle you.' But, suddenly changing his idea, and not giving me time to say a word, he drove me back into the dining-room; the office door was open, and he brutally thrust me in and shut the door."

"And you did not hear the conversation?"

"Not a word, sir; if I had known that there was any one in his room with him, I should have been careful not to have gone there. He even forbade Madame Seraphin from doing so."

"And, when you left the office, what did he say to you?"

"It was the housekeeper who let me out, and I did not see M. Ferrand again that night. His violence to me, and the fright I had undergone, made me very ill indeed. The next day, at the moment when I went down-stairs, I met M. Ferrand, and I shuddered when I remembered his threats of the night before; what then was my surprise when he said to me calmly, 'You knew that I forbid any one to enter my private room when I have any person there; but, for the short time longer you will stay here, it is useless to scold you any more.' And then he went into his study. This mildness astonished me after his violence of the previous evening. I went on with my work as usual, and was going to put his bedchamber to rights. I had suffered a great deal all night, and was weak and exhausted. Whilst I was hanging up some clothes in a dark closet at the end of the room near the bed, I was suddenly seized with a painful giddiness, and felt as if I should lose my senses; as I fell, I tried to support myself by grasping at a large cloak which hung against the wainscot; but in my fall I drew this cloak down on me, and was almost entirely covered by it. When I came to myself, the gla.s.s door of the above closet was shut. I heard M. Ferrand's voice,--he was speaking aloud. Remembering the scene of the previous evening, I thought I should be killed if I stirred. I suppose that, hidden by the cloak which had fallen on me, my master did not perceive me when he shut the door of this dark wardrobe. If he found me, how could I account for, and make him believe, this singular accident? I, therefore, held my breath, and in spite of myself, overheard the conclusion of this conversation which, no doubt had begun some time."

"And who was the person who was talking with the notary and shut up in this room with him?" inquired Rodolph of Louise.