The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Iii Part 13

"My father!" exclaimed Louise, throwing herself at his feet, and clasping his hands in her own, in spite of his resistance, "it is I--it is your Louise!"

"Thirteen hundred francs," he repeated, wresting his hands from the grasp of his daughter. "Thirteen hundred francs,--and if not," he added, in a low and as it were, confidential tone, "and if not, Louise is to be guillotined."

And again he imitated the turning of his lathe.

Louise gave a piercing shriek.

"He is mad!" she exclaimed, "he is mad! and it is I--it is I who am the cause! Oh! Yet it is not my fault,--I did not desire to do ill,--it was that monster."

"Courage, courage, my poor girl," said Rodolph, "let us hope that this attack is but momentary. Your father has suffered so much; so many troubles, all at once, were more than he could bear. His reason wanders for a moment; it will soon be restored."

"But my mother, my grandmother, my sisters, my brothers, what will become of them all?" exclaimed Louise, "Now they are deprived of my father and myself, they must die of hunger, misery and despair!"

"Am I not here?--make your mind, easy; they shall want for nothing.

Courage, I say to you. Your disclosure will bring about the punishment of a great criminal. You have convinced me of your innocence, and I have no doubt but that it will be discovered and proclaimed."

"Ah, sir, you see,--dishonour, madness, death,--see the miseries which that man causes, and yet no one can do any thing against him! Nothing!

The very thought completes all my wretchedness."

"So far from that, let the contrary thought help to support you."

"What mean you, sir?"

"Take with you the a.s.surance that your father, yourself, and your family shall be avenged."

"Avenged!"

"Yes, that I swear to you," replied Rodolph, solemnly; "I swear to you that his crimes shall be exposed, and this man shall bitterly expiate the dishonour, madness, and death which he has caused. If the laws are powerless to reach him, if his cunning and skill equal his misdeeds, then his cunning must be met by cunning, his skill must be counteracted by skill, his misdeeds faced by other misdeeds, but which shall be to his but a just and avenging retribution, inflicted on a guilty wretch by an inexorable hand, when compared to a cowardly and base murder."

"Ah, sir, may Heaven hear you! It is no longer myself whom I seek to avenge, but a poor, distracted father,--my child killed in its birth--"

Then, trying another effort to turn Morel from his insanity, Louise again exclaimed:

"Adieu, father! They are going to lead me to prison, and I shall never see you again. It is your poor Louise who bids you adieu. My father! my father! my father!"

To this distressing appeal there was no response. In that poor, destroyed mind there was no echo,--none. The paternal cords, always the last broken, no longer vibrated.

The door of the garret opened; the commissary entered.

"My moments are numbered, sir," said he to Rodolph. "I declare to you with much regret that I cannot allow this conversation to be protracted any longer."

"This conversation is ended, sir," replied Rodolph, bitterly, and pointing to the lapidary. "Louise has nothing more to say to her father,--he has nothing more to hear from his daughter,--he is a lunatic."

"I feared as much. It is really frightful!" exclaimed the magistrate.

And approaching the workman hastily, after a minute's scrutiny, he was convinced of the sad reality.

"Ah, sir," said he sorrowfully to Rodolph, "I had already expressed my sincerest wishes that the innocence of this young girl might be discovered; but after such a misfortune I will not confine myself to good wishes,--no,--no! I will speak of this honest and distressed family; I will speak of this fearful and last blow which has overwhelmed it; and do not doubt but that the judges will have an additional motive to find the accused innocent."

"Thanks, thanks, sir!" said Rodolph; "by acting thus it will not be a mere duty that you fulfil, but a holy office which you undertake."

"Believe me, sir, our duty is always such a painful one that it is most grateful to us to be interested in any thing which is worthy and good."

"One word more, sir. The disclosures of Louise Morel have fully convinced me of her innocence. Will you be so kind as inform me how her pretended crime was discovered, or rather denounced?"

"This morning," said the magistrate, "a housekeeper in the service of M.

Ferrand, the notary, came and deposed before me that, after the hasty departure of Louise Morel, whom she knew to be seven months advanced in the family way, she went into the young girl's apartment, and was convinced that she had been prematurely confined; footsteps had been traced in the snow, which had led to the detection of the body of a new-born child buried in the garden. After this declaration I went myself to the Rue du Sentier, and found M. Jacques Ferrand most indignant that such a scandalous affair should have happened in his house. The cure of the church Bonne Nouvelle, whom he had sent for, also declared to me that Louise Morel had owned her fault in his presence one day, when, on this account, she was imploring the indulgence and pity of her master; that, besides, he had often heard M. Ferrand give Louise Morel the most serious warnings, telling her that, sooner or later, she would be lost,--'a prediction,' added the abbe, 'which has been unfortunately fulfilled.' The indignation of M. Ferrand," continued the magistrate, "seemed to me so just and natural, that I shared in it. He told me that, no doubt, Louise Morel had taken refuge with her father. I came hither instantly, for the crime being flagrant, I was empowered to proceed by immediate apprehension."

Rodolph with difficulty restrained himself when he heard of the indignation of M. Ferrand, and said to the magistrate:

"I thank you a thousand times, sir, for your kindness, and the support you promise Louise. I will take care that this poor man, as well as his wife's mother, are sent to a lunatic asylum."

Then, addressing Louise, who was still kneeling close to her father, endeavouring, but vainly, to recall him to his senses:

"Make up your mind, my poor girl, to go without taking leave of your mother,--spare her the pain of such a parting. Be a.s.sured that she shall be taken care of, and nothing shall in future be wanting to your family, for a woman shall be found who will take care of your mother and occupy herself with your brothers, and sisters, under the superintendence of your kind neighbour, Mlle. Rigolette. As for your father, nothing shall be spared to make his return to reason as rapid as it is complete.

Courage! Believe me, honest people are often severely tried by misfortune, but they always come out of these struggles more pure, more strong, and more respected."

Two hours after the apprehension of Louise, the lapidary and the old idiot mother were, by Rodolph's orders, taken to the Bicetre by David, where they were to be kept in private rooms and to receive particular care. Morel left the house in the Rue du Temple without resistance; indifferent as he was, he went wherever they led him,--his lunacy was gentle, inoffensive, and melancholy. The grandmother was hungry, and when they showed her bread and meat she followed the bread and meat. The jewels of the lapidary, entrusted to his wife, were the same day given to Madame Mathieu (the jewel-matcher), who fetched them. Unfortunately she was watched and followed by Tortillard, who knew the value of the pretended false stones in consequence of the conversation he had overheard during the time Morel was arrested by the bailiffs. The son of Bras Rouge discovered that she lived, Boulevard Saint-Denis, No. 11.

Rigolette apprised Madeleine Morel, with considerable delicacy, of the fit of lunacy which had attacked the lapidary, and of Louise's imprisonment. At first, Madeleine wept bitterly, and uttered terrible shrieks; then, the first burst of her grief over, the poor creature, weak and overcome, consoled herself as well as she could by seeing that she and her children were surrounded by the many comforts which she owed to the generosity of their benefactor.

As to Rodolph, his thoughts were very poignant when he considered the disclosures of Louise. "Nothing is more common," he said, "than this corrupting of the female servant by the master, either by consent or against it; sometimes by terror and surprise, sometimes by the imperious nature of those relations which create servitude. This depravity, descending from the rich to the poor, despising (in its selfish desire) the sanct.i.ty of the domestic hearth,--this depravity, still most deplorable when it is voluntarily submitted to, becomes hideous, frightful, when it is satisfied with violence. It is an impure and brutal slavery, an ign.o.ble and barbarous tyranny over a fellow-creature, who in her fright replies to the solicitations of her master by her tears, and to his declarations with a shudder of fear and disgust. And then," continued Rodolph, "what is the consequence to the female? Almost invariably there follow degradation, misery, prost.i.tution, theft, and sometimes infanticide! And yet the laws are, as yet, strangers to this crime! Every accomplice of a crime has the punishment of that crime; every receiver is considered as guilty as the thief. That is justice.

But when a man wantonly seduces a young, innocent, and pure girl, renders her a mother, abandons her, leaving her but shame, disgrace, despair, and driving her, perchance, to infanticide, a crime for which she forfeits her life, is this man considered as her accomplice? Pooh!

What, then, follows? Oh, 'tis nothing,--nothing but a little love-affair! the whim of the day for a pair of bright eyes. Then she is left, and he looks out for the next. Still more, it is just possible that the man may be of an original, an inquisitive turn, perhaps, at the same time, an excellent brother and son, and may go to the bar of the criminal court and see his paramour tried for her life! If by chance he should be subpoenaed as a witness, he may amuse himself by saying to the persons desirous of having the poor girl executed as soon as possible, for the greater edification of the public morals, 'I have something important to disclose to justice.' 'Speak!' 'Gentlemen of the jury,--This unhappy female was pure and virtuous, it is true. I seduced her,--that is equally true; she bore me a child,--that is also true.

After that, as she has a light complexion, I completely forsook her for a pretty brunette,--that is still more true; but, in doing so, I have only followed out an imprescriptible right, a sacred right which society recognizes and accords to me.' 'The truth is, this young man is perfectly in the right,' the jury would say one to another; 'there is no law which prevents a young man from seducing a fair girl, and then forsaking her for a brunette; he is a gay young chap, and that's all.'

'Now, gentlemen of the jury, this unhappy girl is said to have killed her child,--I will say our child,--because I abandoned her; because, finding herself alone and in the deepest misery, she became frightened, and lost her senses! And wherefore? Because having, as she says, to bring up and feed her child, it was impossible that she could continue to work regularly at her occupation, and gain a livelihood for herself and this pledge of our love! But I think these reasons quite unworthy of consideration, allow me to say, gentlemen of the jury. Could she not have gone to the Lying-in Hospital, if there was room for her? Could she not, at the critical moment, have gone to the magistrate of her district and made a declaration of her shame, so that she might have had authority for placing her child in the Enfants Trouves? In fact, could she not, whilst I was playing billiards at the coffee-house, whilst awaiting my other mistress, could she not have extricated herself from this affair by some genteeler mode than this? For, gentlemen of the jury, I will admit that I consider this way of disposing of the pledge of our loves as rather too unceremonious and rude, under the idea of thus quietly escaping all future care and trouble. What, is it enough for a young girl to lose her character, brave contempt, infamy, and have an illegitimate child? No; but she must also educate the child, take care of it, bring it up, give it a business, and make an honest man of it, if it be a boy, like its father; or an honest girl, who does not turn wanton like her mother. For, really, maternity has its sacred duties, and the wretches who trample them under foot are unnatural mothers, who deserve an exemplary and notable punishment; as a proof of which, gentlemen of the jury, I beg you will unhesitatingly hand over this miserable woman to the executioner, and you will thus do your duty like independent, firm, and enlightened citizens. _Dixi!_' 'This gentleman looks at the question in a very moral point of view,' will say some hatmaker or retired furrier, who is foreman of the jury; 'he has done, i'faith, what we should all have done in his place; for the girl is very pretty, though rather pallid in complexion. This gay spark, as the song says:

"'"Has kissed and has prattled with fifty fair maids, And changed them as oft, do you see;"

and there is no law against that. As to this unfortunate girl, after all, it is her own fault! Why did she not repulse him? Then she would not have committed a crime,--a monstrous crime! which really puts all society to the blush.' And the hatter or the furrier would be right,--perfectly right. What is there to criminate this gentleman? Of what complicity, direct or indirect, moral or material, can he be charged? This lucky rogue has seduced a pretty girl, and he it is who has brought her there; he does not deny it; where is the law that prevents or punishes him? Society merely says: There are gay young fellows abroad,--let the pretty girls beware! But if a poor wretch, through want or stupidity, constraint, or ignorance of the laws which he cannot read, buys knowingly a rag which has been stolen, he will be sent to the galleys for twenty years as a receiver, if such be the punishment for the theft itself. This is logical, powerful reasoning,--'Without receivers there would be no thieves, without thieves there would be no receivers.' No, no more pity, then--even less pity--for him who excites to the evil than he who perpetrates it. Let the smallest degree of complicity be visited with terrible punishment! Good; there is in that a serious and fertile thought, high and moral. We should bow before Society which had dictated such a law; but we remember that this Society, so inexorable towards the smallest complicity of crime against things, is so framed that a simple and ingenuous man, who should try to prove that there is at least moral similarity, material complicity, between the fickle seducer and the seduced and forsaken girl, would be laughed at as a visionary. And if this simple man were to a.s.sert that without a father there would, in all probability, not be offspring, Society would exclaim against the atrocity,--the folly! And it would be right,--quite right; for, after all, this gay youth who might say these fine things to the jury, however little he might like tragic emotions, might yet go tranquilly to see his mistress executed,--executed for child-murder, a crime to which he was an accessory; nay more, the author, in consequence of his shameless abandonment! Does not this charming protection, granted to the male portion of society for certain gay doings suggested by the G.o.d of Love, show plainly that France still sacrifices to the Graces, and is still the most gallant nation in the world?"

CHAPTER III.

JACQUES FERRAND.

At the period when the events were pa.s.sing which we are now relating, at one end of the Rue du Sentier a long old wall extended, covered with a coat of whitewash, and the top garnished with a row of broken flint-gla.s.s bottles; this wall, bounding on one side the garden of Jacques Ferrand, the notary, terminated with a _corps de logis_ facing the street, only one story high, with garrets. Two large escutcheons of gilt copper, emblems of the notarial residence, flanked the worm-eaten _porte cochere_, of which the primitive colour was no longer to be distinguished under the mud which covered it. This entrance led to an open pa.s.sage; on the right was the lodge of an old porter, almost deaf, who was to the body of tailors what M. Pipelet was to the body of boot-makers; on the left a stable, used as a cellar, washhouse, woodhouse, and the establishment of a rising colony of rabbits belonging to the porter, who was dissipating the sorrows of a recent widowhood by bringing up these domestic animals. Beside the lodge was the opening of a twisting staircase, narrow and dark, leading to the office, as was announced to the clients by a hand painted black, whose forefinger was directed towards these words, also painted in black upon the wall, "The Office on the first floor."

On one side of a large paved court, overgrown with gra.s.s, were empty stables; on the other side, a rusty iron gate, which shut in the garden; at the bottom the pavilion, inhabited only by the notary. A flight of eight or ten steps of disjointed stones, which were moss-grown and time-worn, led to this square pavilion, consisting of a kitchen and other underground offices, a ground floor, a first floor, and the top rooms, in one of which Louise had slept. The pavilion also appeared in a state of great dilapidation. There were deep c.h.i.n.ks in the walls; the window-frames and outside blinds, once painted gray, had become almost black by time; the six windows on the first floor, looking out into the courtyard, had no curtains; a sort of greasy and opaque deposit covered the gla.s.s; on the ground floor there were visible through the window-panes more transparent, faded yellow cotton curtains, with red bindings.

On the garden side the pavilion had only four windows. The garden, overgrown with parasitical plants, seemed wholly neglected. There was no flower border, not a bush; a clump of elms; five or six large green trees; some acacias and elder-trees; a yellowish gra.s.s-plat, half destroyed by moss and the scorch of the sun; muddy paths, choked up with weeds; at the bottom, a sort of half cellar; for horizon, the high, naked, gray walls of the adjacent houses, having here and there skylights barred like prison windows,--such was the miserable appearance of the garden and dwelling of the notary.