now, I cannot believe that thou wouldst be so cruel; women love fine
apparel upon themselves and upon those who pay court to them. I was
infernally seedy when thou didst know me, and that must have done me
much discredit in thy sight.--And to think that I cannot meet her! I
have planted myself like a sentinel twenty times in front of the Hôtel
de Mongarcin, but she has not come out. I cannot stand there all day
long, especially as I attract too much attention--the women gather about
me in flocks!--No matter! I will see my fascinating brunette again--I
swear it by Roland!"
About midday Passedix issued forth once more, saying to himself:
"I will turn my steps in another direction; perhaps chance will be more
favorable to me."
And for two hours the orange chevalier traversed the Saint-Honoré
quarter and the Halles in all directions. Then he changed his route,
and, turning toward the Cloister of Saint-Merri, entered Rue Brisemiche,
then in very bad repute, being specially assigned for the residence of
prostitutes. At the end of the fourteenth century, the Provost of Paris
had, at the request of the curé of Saint-Merri, issued an edict
expelling the _golden girdles_ from Rue Brisemiche and Rue Tire-Boudin;
but certain bourgeois resisted the execution of this edict and insisted
upon maintaining the prostitutes in possession of those streets. And the
Parliament, by a decree of January 21, 1388, ratified the opposition of
the bourgeois!--What do you think of the _good old times_?
Passedix had just passed a dark second-hand clothes shop of very grimy
aspect, when a little man, advanced in years, but thickset and powerful,
who was taking the air on the threshold of the shop in question, having
scrutinized the chevalier for a moment, set up a screech worthy of a
peacock, and, darting after the saunterer, overtook him and seized him
by his cloak.
"Ah! I have him! here he is!--Oh! you won't get away from me, my buck!"
Surprised by this sudden attack, the Gascon turned, eyed the clothes
dealer with a disdainful air, and tried to release his cloak, saying:
"Who in the devil are you seizing, my good man? You have certainly made
a mistake; you should try wearing spectacles.--Let this cloak alone,
cadédis! you will rumple it!"
But the dealer had strong hands; he did not release the cloak, and so
detained Passedix, shouting all the while:
"Let you go, you thief, you brigand! Oh, no! you shall not get away from
me! This is my merchandise: cloak, doublet, short-clothes, and even the
girdle--nothing is missing!--What an impudent knave you must be, to walk
about with it all on your body!--Help, friends, neighbors! Help! Watch!
watch! Come and help me arrest a thief!"
"A thief!" the cry was echoed on all sides; people ran to the spot, and
in a trice a compact crowd surrounded the two struggling men.
"He takes me for a thief!" exclaimed Passedix, addressing the witnesses
of the scene. "I should find it very amusing, if I were not afraid that
this clown would tear my cloak! Sandis! if he makes the slightest rent
in it, I will make him pay for it!"
"He will make me pay for what is mine, what he stole from my own
nephew!" exclaimed the shopkeeper. "Ah! you villain! you don't belie
your reputation.--My friends, messieurs, mesdemoiselles, do you know who
this man is? He is Giovanni! the celebrated Giovanni! the Italian robber
who has been working Paris for a long while, and whom the police can
never catch! Well! I have caught him, I have! And I promise you that I
won't let him go.--It's a great capture! Help me take him to the
guardhouse at the Châtelet; we shall render a great service to society!"
"Giovanni! Giovanni!" cried the bystanders. And one and all pushed and
crowded and stood on tiptoe, trying to obtain a better view of the
famous brigand of whom everyone was talking, and of whom stories were
told that made women and children, and often husbands and brothers too,
quake with fear.
"What! is that the Italian brigand?" said a bourgeois; "I have heard
that he has a horrible face. This tall fellow makes me more inclined to
laugh."
"I was told he is a handsome young man," said a corpulent matron; "this
man is very ugly and he isn't young."
"He hasn't a surly look at all, this cavalier," said a tradesman; "are
you quite sure, neighbor, that you are not mistaken?"
"Am I sure!" cried the dealer in clothes; "why, it's very easy to
explain.--I intrusted to my nephew Plumard, a solicitor's clerk, the
complete costume, orange silk, slashed with lemon, which this man is
wearing. My nephew Plumard came back and told me, with tears in his
eyes, that he had been attacked and robbed in Rue des Bourdonnais by the
brigand Giovanni, dressed in the costume in which he is always
seen.--Now, then, as this man is wearing the complete outfit that I
intrusted to my nephew, he must be the man who stole it; and he must
have been very glad to put on this costume, because he knows that the
police have his description in the other."
"Yes, yes, he's Giovanni, he's the robber!" cried the crowd, inclined,
like all crowds, to find a culprit.
"We must take him to the Châtelet; we mustn't let him escape. Let's take
away his long sword!"
"Sandioux! you are cowards all!" shouted Passedix, drawing Roland from
the scabbard, and trying to force his way through the multitude. "This
old clothes man is a fool--I don't know him! The clothes I have on I
paid for in honest crowns--thirty pistoles, do you hear?"
"The proof that he lies," cried the second-hand dealer, "is that I asked
only fifteen pistoles for the complete outfit, as it was second-hand."
"Ah! the blackguards! the reptiles! they cheated me!" rejoined the
Gascon. "But I paid for the whole suit, none the less. Let the man who
says I did not, come forward; I offer to fight him to the death--with
dagger, sword, or partisan!"
But no one listened to the chevalier, because they were only too glad to
be able to believe that they had Giovanni in their hands.
Meanwhile several soldiers and arquebusiers had forced their way into
the crowd, and the unfortunate Passedix was speedily disarmed; they
bound his hands behind his back and forced him to go with them to the
Châtelet, while the crowd heaped insults upon him and beat him with
their fists. The little clothes dealer headed the procession, which
increased in size every moment, because all the passers-by and shop
clerks on the route they traversed, when they heard someone say: "It is
Giovanni whom they have arrested," hastened to join the crowd, hoping to
obtain a glimpse of the brigand who had caused them to tremble with
dread for many months.
XXXIX
THE MARQUISE DE SANTOVAL
While these things were taking place, a scene of a different sort was
being enacted in a superb mansion in Rue Sainte-Avoie, which mansion
belonged to the Marquis de Santoval, who had become the husband of
Valentine de Mongarcin several months earlier.
When she married, the heiress had been compelled to leave her abode on
Rue Saint-Honoré, to follow the spouse whom she had chosen. She had
parted from her aunt, Madame de Ravenelle, without any very poignant
regret, for their temperaments were in no respect sympathetic; nor did
the old lady display any deep emotion when her niece left her.
Selfish people are happy in that they refer all their sensations to
themselves alone; they love themselves too much to waste any love on
others.
Valentine had taken Miretta with her, whom she treated as a friend
rather than as a lady's-maid, and with whom she would not willingly have
parted for anything on earth. This arrangement had been made without any
difficulty. Monsieur de Santoval, proud of the preference which
Valentine had accorded him over his numerous rivals, displayed the
greatest zeal in gratifying his lovely wife's lightest wish; and he had
lavished diamonds and other valuable gifts upon her.
He left her entirely at liberty, feeling sure doubtless that she would
not abuse the privilege; perhaps, too, he had reserved the means of
satisfying himself whether she did abuse it or not.
The marquis had one of those faces which always make one shudder when
they assume to express confidence in a person.
The young Marquise de Santoval was in her dressing room, standing before
a large Venetian mirror, which, in those days, filled the place of the
modern psyche. She was trying the effect against her hair of a new set
of rubies which her husband had brought her that morning. And as the
reddish gleam of the stones harmonized perfectly with the brilliant
gloss of her raven locks, Valentine could not restrain a smile of
satisfaction at finding herself so lovely.
"This is becoming to me, is it not, Miretta?" she asked, turning to her
pretty maid, who stood behind her gazing at her with a sad expression.
"Yes, madame, it is admirable; it is perfectly suited to you. I do not
think that it is possible to be more lovely."
"Aha! flatterer!--But it is possible to be less lovely and more
attractive!"
"Monsieur le marquis is very gallant; his presents are magnificent!"
"He does no more than he should do! I think that he was much flattered
by the preference I accorded him."
"Can it be that madame regrets it now?"
"Hush, Miretta, hush! there are some things that must never be
said!--However, I have no regrets; I did what I was determined to do. It
was not a caprice that guided my action. Nor, as you may imagine, was it
love--although Monsieur de Santoval is still young, and a very handsome
man. Indeed, there are some women who consider him superb. Not long ago,
Madame de Grangeville whispered in my ear: 'I congratulate you on your
choice! Monsieur de Santoval is one of the handsomest cavaliers at
court!'"
"Did that flatter you, madame?"
"Flatter me? Bah! what difference do you think that it makes to me? When
one has no love for a man, what does one care what people say about
him?"
"Monsieur de Santoval seems to be very much in love, himself!"
"In love with me?--Hum! yes, perhaps he is; but he is very proud, very
haughty, and, above all, very jealous of his honor!"
"And of madame too, probably?"
"Why, of course, as the two go together!--What a strange thing!"
"What is strange, madame?"
"Nothing! nothing!"
And Valentine smiled, as if she had had the thought which Beaumarchais
many years later put into the mouth of Comte Almaviva in _Le Mariage de
Figaro_.
"Has not Joseph returned, Miretta?"
"No, madame, not yet."
"How long a time that fellow takes to do such a simple errand! I sent
him to Madame de Ligneulle's, only a few steps away, to ask if she
expected to go to the Baronne de Beaumont's this evening; and it is more
than an hour since he went! He amuses himself by the way, it seems."
"It surprises me, madame, for Joseph is usually very zealous and very
prompt in the execution of madame's orders."
"I know it, and that is why I employ him. But Madame de Ligneulle's
house is within five minutes' walk--and to take more than an hour in
going there and returning!"
"They kept him waiting, no doubt."
"When a messenger comes from me, she never keeps him waiting."
"Does madame mean to go to Madame de Beaumont's this evening?"
"Yes, I shall go."
"Madame enjoys society since her marriage."
"You think so, because I go out a great deal. I have not yet found--what
I am seeking; but it must happen sooner or later."
The portière of the dressing room was softly put aside, and a servant in
rich livery showed his face, asking respectfully if he might enter.
"Ah! you have returned at last, Joseph!" cried Valentine. "Have you had
an accident, pray, that you have been away so long?--Come in, and
speak."
"Oh! yes, madame!" the valet replied, entering the room. "That is to
say, I have not actually had an accident; but there was such a crowd in
the street, so many people had collected to see him pass--they crowded
and pushed----"
"What was the reason of the crowd? what was there to see that was so
interesting?"
"Oh! can it be that madame does not know?--He is arrested, he is caught
at last! It was high time, too!"
"Who is arrested at last?"
"The famous Italian brigand--the dreaded Giovanni!"
"Giovanni is arrested, you say?" cried Miretta, who had suddenly turned
deathly pale; and she seized the valet's arm and pressed it violently.
"Giovanni taken! Are you sure of it?"
"Certainly, mademoiselle; for they were taking him to the Petit
Châtelet, and everybody crowded to see him."
"Ah! unhappy wretch that I am!"
And the girl, with a loud shriek, darted from the room, entirely
forgetting her mistress and everything about her. In two or three
seconds she had rushed through the salons, the vestibule, and the
courtyard, and was hurrying along the street, roughly pushing aside
everybody who came in her way.
But, as the orange chevalier drew near the Petit Châtelet, where many
malefactors were then confined, three young noblemen, having just
crossed the Petit Pont, noticed the crowd, and, hearing it said that
Giovanni had been arrested, forced their way through the spectators
until they reached the Gascon, at whom everybody was pointing, saying:
"That is the famous bandit!"
Thereupon, to the vast amazement of the multitude, the three young
gentlemen roared with laughter; then they seized the malefactor's hands
and pressed them cordially, while he exclaimed:
"Gad! this is very lucky! Sandis! here are some friends who know me, at
last! It's Sénange and Monclair!--Can you believe, messieurs, that these
people absolutely insist that I am the celebrated robber Giovanni?"
"You, Giovanni? Poor Passedix!"
"Poor! Deuce take it! he has not been poor since he inherited a
fortune!"
"Who is it that is fool enough to take you for the Italian brigand?"
"That infamous little clothes dealer yonder! But, by Roland! I will have
satisfaction for his insults!"
"Pardieu!" said Sénange, "it happens that Captain Raynold is on duty at
the Châtelet, and he knows our friend Passedix."
A captain of archers came from the prison at that moment to inquire the
cause of the commotion; when he saw Passedix, with whom he had more than
once drunk and played cards at wine shops, he offered him his hand,
which fully satisfied the crowd that they had made a mistake and that
the prisoner was not Giovanni.
The captain administered a sharp rebuke to the men who had made the
arrest, calling their attention to the fact that the orange chevalier's
face and figure bore no resemblance whatever to the well-known
description of Giovanni.
"But," cried the little dealer, in dire distress because of his error,
"it is none the less true that those very noticeable garments came from
my shop, and that they were stolen from my nephew, to whom I delivered
them to be sold."
"One moment, old Jew," said Passedix; "what is your nephew's name?"
"Plumard; he is clerk to Maître Bourdinard, solicitor."
"Very good; now we are on the track; and he has a friend, another little
villain, even smaller than you, whose name is Bahuchet?"
"That is true."
"And one of them has a plaster on his head, which makes him look like a
sick cur?"
"It's my nephew who wears that plaster--in place of hair."
"Well, you damned clothes man, if you had listened to me, I would have
told you that your nephew and his friend Bahuchet came to my Hôtel du
Sanglier on Place aux Chats, and, knowing that I desired a complete new
outfit and that I had inherited a large property, they brought me this
orange costume, for which I paid them thirty pistoles in honest crowns."
"Is it possible? You gave them thirty pistoles?"
"I swear it on my honor! And these gentlemen will bear witness that I am
to be believed."
"Yes, yes! palsambleu! Thirty pistoles--why, that is nothing to him now,
for he doesn't know what to do with his doubloons."
"Pardon! a thousand pardons, monsieur le chevalier! Then it must be my
nephew who robbed me."
"That is very probable. That little rascal, with his plaster, looked to
me like a consummate knave, and I fancy that that Bahuchet is little
better; but when I meet them, I will administer salutary chastisement to
them. As for you, dealer in old clothes, I ought to shave your ears a
trifle! You called the fine flower of chivalry a robber!"
As he spoke, Passedix seized the little man by one ear and shook him
roughly. The young noblemen, who were highly amused by the scene, urged
the chevalier to enforce all the rights of the victor; the terrified
tradesman was beginning to whine and beg for mercy, when suddenly the
Gascon's face became radiant, his eyes flashed fire, and he released the
little man's ear, crying:
"There she is! it is she! I find her again at last!--Adieu, my noble
friends! Do not follow me, I beg!"
It was indeed Miretta whom Passedix had espied; Miretta, who, after
running hither and thither a long while, had succeeded at last in
forcing her way through the crowd, and at the very moment when she
expected to see her lover had heard people saying all about her:
"They have made a mistake."
"It isn't Giovanni that they caught."
"Oh! what a misfortune!"
"Who was it they arrested, then?"
"No one! Oh, yes! they arrested that tall, lank man dressed in orange;
but it seems that he isn't a thief, as all those gentlemen know him, and
the captain of the archers himself came up and shook hands with him."
"That old idiot of a second-hand clothes dealer is the cause of it all!"
"Down with the old clothes man!"
"To the gallows with the old clothes man!"
Miretta's heart swelled when she heard all these remarks, and, as she
had run a long way, she leaned against a post and began to breathe more
freely.
Then it was that Passedix appeared and struck an attitude in front of
her, with a courteous bow, saying:
"At last, I see thee again! star of my soul, firmament of my heart, moon
of my thoughts, planet----"
"Tell me, monsieur le chevalier, did they really take you for Giovanni?"
said Miretta, breaking in upon her adorer's compliments.
"Yes, fascinating brunette! Can you understand such a thing?--I am not
acquainted with the famous robber, but it is impossible that he should
have this elegant figure, this noble carriage, in a word, this
distinguished physique which I possess!"
"Oh! surely not! he does not resemble you!"
"What? Do you know him, siren?"
"No, but I have heard him described so often!"
"And Giovanni is not likely to have a costume like this, is he, my
dear?--But we have said enough of this brigand. Pray tell me, adorable
brunette, what has become of a certain Comte de Carvajal, whom you know
rather intimately, I believe?"
Miretta was disturbed by the question, but she made haste to reply:
"I do not know what you mean, monsieur le chevalier; I know no one of
that name."
"Really? But all those rustics, with the wrist of steel, with whom I
have met you,--and notably the one who, I know not how, caused Roland to
fall from my hand,--were devilishly like the foreigner who lodged at the
Hôtel du Sanglier."
"What do you want with that foreigner?"
"What does it matter to you, if you do not know him? But you know that
is not true, naughty wench!"
"Adieu, monsieur le chevalier! I can stay here no longer."
"What! deprive me of your company already! I will escort you to Rue
Saint-Honoré."
"I no longer live there; since Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin
became Marquise de Santoval, we live on Rue Sainte-Avoie."
"Aha! so your lady is now Marquise de Santoval! And that is the reason
why my vigils in front of the Hôtel de Mongarcin have led to nothing!"
"Take my advice, monsieur le chevalier, and make no further attempt to
see me."
"Ah! I am rich now, Miretta; I will cover you with fine pearls!"
"You might offer me all the treasures of the Indies, and I would still
say to you: 'You are wasting your time; I do not love you; I shall never
love you.'"
"Then it must be that mysterious Carvajal whom you love. But, by death!
if I ever meet him!"
"Ah, me! I would like right well to meet him!"
As she said these words, Miretta darted away so swiftly that she soon
disappeared from the eyes of Passedix, who pulled his cap over his
forehead, muttering angrily:
"Mordioux! she defies me still. I must forget her! I must show my
dignity! Let us get tipsy!"
Miretta hurried back to the Hôtel de Santoval; she remembered how
precipitately she had left the house, and she feared that her mistress
would be displeased with her for absenting herself at a time when she
required her services; so that Miretta was almost trembling when she
returned to the house.
She had no sooner entered than a servant informed her that her mistress
wished to see her.
Valentine was alone in her bedroom; her expression was not at all stern,
but it denoted profound reflection.
When she saw Miretta, she motioned to her to lock all the doors with
care, then beckoned her to a seat on a stool by her side.
Miretta walked toward her and began to falter some words of apology; but
Valentine placed a finger on her lips and again pointed to the stool.
The girl seated herself, speechless with surprise, and waited anxiously
to hear what her mistress could have to say to her that demanded so much
mystery.
Valentine fastened her great velvety dark-gray eyes on those of her
maid, who looked down at the floor; then she said to her, taking care to
speak low:
"Miretta, swear that you will answer frankly the question I am about to
ask you; swear that you will not lie to me!"
The girl looked up, glanced at her mistress, and, seeing nothing in her
expression to indicate anger, answered:
"I swear, madame."
"That is well; now, listen to me. I have just discovered a secret of
great importance to you, which we must not let anybody else discover! I
know who your lover is--the man whom you love."
"You know, madame?"
"Yes, I tell you; and you are going to tell me if I am mistaken. The man
whom you have not seen for so long a time, the man for whose sake you
came to France, of whom you are constantly thinking, and who causes you
so much anxiety--is Giovanni!"
"O madame! you think----"
"It is Giovanni! Contradict me if you dare!--Have no fear of me,
Miretta; you should know me well. But remember your oath: the man you
love is Giovanni, is he not? Answer--answer!"
Miretta fell on her knees before her mistress, clasping her hands, and
murmured at last:
"Yes, madame, yes--it is Giovanni who is my lover.--Oh! forgive me!"
"Rise, rise, my child! Your frankness makes me more fond of you. Do you
think, pray, that I asked you for your secret with the intention of
reproaching you? You loved this Giovanni, doubtless, before he became a
brigand?"
"Oh! yes, madame."
"And since you have known the trade he was plying, you have not ceased
to love him!--I understand that. I understand all that love can lead one
to do. Under the sway of that passion, is it possible to reason, to
reflect?--And then, this man must be very brave; the reputation he has
made for himself, the very terror inseparable from his name--yes, there
is something in all that which almost makes one forget his crimes."
"Oh! if you knew, madame, how earnestly I have begged, implored him to
renounce his pursuit! And he promised to do it.--'Only a few months
more,' he said, 'and we will return to Italy, and no one will recognize
in me the dreaded bandit.'--But, alas! it is more than a year since he
told me that, and I have not met him since."
"But he has not been arrested, as Joseph said.--Another servant, whom I
sent out to make inquiries, has just returned and told me that they made
a mistake, that the man who was arrested was not the famous robber."
"That is true, madame. Thank heaven, my fears were unfounded! Ah! if you
knew what a feeling of despair took possession of me!"
"Do you think that I did not see it, poor girl? Do you think that I was
not struck by your pallor, by your confusion, by that grief-stricken cry
which you uttered, when Joseph said: 'Giovanni is arrested'?--It was
that that revealed your secret to me. Luckily, the servants saw nothing
but curiosity in your precipitate exit--nothing but the desire to see a
man who spreads terror throughout Paris.--Now that you know that he is
not arrested, you are calmer and happier. In future be more prudent; be
careful not to betray yourself."
"Oh! you are right, madame; I will try to conceal my feelings."