JUDGMENT AND EXECUTION.
The lapidary, much astonished, rose and opened the door. Two men entered
the garret. One, tall, lanky, with an ill-favoured and pimply face,
shaded by thick grizzly whiskers, held in his hand a thick cane, loaded
at the head; he wore a battered hat, and a long-tailed and bespattered
green coat, buttoned up close to his throat. Above the threadbare velvet
collar was displayed his long neck, red and bald like that of a vulture.
This man's name was Malicorne. The other was a shorter man, with a look
as low-lived, and red, fat, puffed features, dressed with a great effort
at ridiculous splendour. Shiny buttons were in the folds of the front of
his shirt, whose cleanliness was most suspicious, and a long chain of
mosaic gold serpentined down a faded plaid waistcoat, which was seen
beneath his seedy Chesterfield, of a yellowish gray colour. This
gentleman's name was Bourdin.
"How poverty-stricken this hole smells," said Malicorne, pausing on the
threshold.
"Why, it does not scent of lavender-water. Confound it, but we have a
lowish customer to deal with," responded Bourdin, with a gesture of
disgust and contempt, and then advanced towards the artisan, who was
looking at him with as much surprise as indignation.
Through the door, left a little ajar, might be seen the villainous,
watchful, and cunning face of the young scamp Tortillard, who, having
followed these strangers unknown to them, was sneaking after, spying,
and listening to them.
"What do you want?" inquired the lapidary, abruptly, disgusted at the
coarseness of these fellows.
"Jérome Morel?" said Bourdin.
"I am he!"
"Working lapidary?"
"Yes."
"You are quite sure?"
"Quite sure. But you are troublesome, so tell me at once your business,
or leave the room."
"Really, your politeness is remarkable! Much obliged! I say, Malicorne,"
said the man, turning to his comrade, "there's not so much fat to cut at
here as there was at that 'ere Viscount de Saint-Rémy's."
"I believe you; but when there is fat, why the door's kept shut in your
face, as we found in the Rue de Chaillot. The bird had hopped the twig,
and precious quick, too, whilst such vermin as these hold on to their
cribs like a snail to his shell."
"I believe you; well, the stone jug just suits such individuals."
"The sufferer (creditor) must be a good fellow, for it will cost him
more than it's worth; but that's his lookout."
"If," said Morel, angrily, "you were not drunk, as you seem to be, I
should be angry with you. Leave this apartment instantly!"
"Ha! ha! He's a fine fellow with his elegant curve," said Bourdin,
making an insulting allusion to the contorted figure of the poor
lapidary. "I say, Malicorne, he has cheek enough to call this an
apartment,--a hole in which I would not put my dog."
"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" exclaimed Madeleine, who had been so frightened
that she could not say a word before. "Call for assistance; perhaps they
are rogues. Take care of your diamonds!"
And, seeing these two ill-looking strangers come closer to his
working-bench, on which his precious stones were still lying, Morel,
fearful of some evil intentions, ran towards the table, and covered the
jewels with his two hands.
Tortillard, still on the watch, caught at Madeleine's words, observed
the movement of the artisan, and said to himself:
"Ha! ha! ha! So they said he was a lapidary of sham stones; if they were
mock he would not be afraid of being robbed; this is a good thing to
know. So Mother Mathieu, who comes here so often, is a matcher of _real_
stones, after all, and has real diamonds in her basket; this is a good
thing to know, and I'll tell the Chouette," added Bras Rouge's brat.
"If you do not leave this room, I will call in the guard," said Morel.
The children, alarmed at this scene, began to cry, and the idiotic
mother sat up in her bed.
"If any one has a right to call for the guard, it is we, you Mister
Twistabout," said Bourdin.
"And the guard would lend us a hand to carry you off to gaol if you
resist," added Malicorne. "We have not the magistrate with us, it is
true; but if you have any wish for his company, we'll find you one, just
out of bed, hot and heavy; Bourdin will go and fetch him."
"To prison! me?" exclaimed Morel, struck with dismay.
"Yes, to Clichy."
"To Clichy?" repeated the artisan, with an air of despair.
"It seems a hardish pill," said Malicorne.
"Well, then, to the debtors' jail, if you like that better," said
Bourdin.
"You--what--indeed--why--the notary--ah, _mon Dieu_!"
And the workman, pale as death, fell on his stool, unable to add another
word.
"We are bound bailiffs, come to lay hold of you; now are you fly?"
"Morel, it is the note of Louise's master! We are undone!" exclaimed
Madeleine, in a tone of agony.
"Hear the judgment," said Malicorne, taking from his dirty and crammed
pocketbook a stamped writ.
After having skimmed over, according to custom, a part of this document
in an unintelligible tone, he distinctly articulated the last words,
which were, unfortunately, but too important to the artisan:
"Judgment finally given. The Tribunal condemns Jérome Morel to
pay to Pierre Petit-Jean, merchant,[6] by every available means,
even to the arrest of body, the sum of 1,300 francs, with
interest from the day of protest, and to pay all other and extra
costs. Given and judged at Paris, 13 September, etc., etc."
[6] The cunning notary, unable to prosecute in his own name,
had made the unfortunate Morel give a blank acceptance, and
had filled up the note of hand with the name of a third party.
"And Louise! Louise!" cried Morel, almost distracted in his brain, and
apparently unheeding the long preamble which had just been read. "Where
is Louise, then, for, doubtless, she has quitted the notary, since he
sends me to prison? My child! My Louise! What has become of you?"
"Who the devil is Louise?" asked Bourdin.
"Let him alone!" replied Malicorne, brutally; "don't you see the
respectable old twaddler is not right in his nonsense-box?" Then,
approaching Morel, he added: "I say, my fine fellow, right about file!
March on! Let us get out of here, will you, and have a little fresh air.
You stink enough to poison a cat in this here hole!"
"Morel!" shrieked Madeleine, wildly, "don't go! Kill those wretches! Oh,
you coward, not to knock them down! What! are you going to let them
take you away? Are you going to abandon us all?"
"Pray don't put yourself out of the way, ma'am," said Bourdin, with an
ironical grin. "I've only just got to remark that if your good man lays
his little finger on me, why I'll make him remember it," continued he,
swinging his loaded stick round and round.
Entirely occupied with thoughts of Louise, Morel scarcely heard a word
of what was passing. All at once an expression of bitter satisfaction
passed over his countenance, as he said:
"Louise has doubtless left the notary's house; now I shall go to prison
willingly." Then, casting a troubled look around him, he exclaimed: "But
my wife! Her mother! The children! Who will provide for them? No one
will trust me with stones to work at in prison, for it will be supposed
my bad conduct has sent me there. Does this hard-hearted notary wish the
destruction of myself and all my family also?"
"Once, twice, old chap," said Bourdin, "will you stop your gammon? You
are enough to bore a man to death. Come, put on your things, and let us
be off."
"Good gentlemen, kind gentlemen," cried Madeleine, from her sick-bed,
"pray forgive what I said just now! Surely you will not be so cruel as
to take my husband away; what will become of me and my five poor
children, and my old mother, who is an idiot? There she lies; you see
her, poor old creature, huddled up on her mattress; she is quite out of
her senses, my good gentlemen; she is, indeed, quite mad!"
"La! what, that old bald-headed thing a woman? Well, hang me if that
ain't enough to astonish a man!"
"I'll be hanged if it isn't, then!" cried the other bailiff, bursting
into a horse-laugh; "why, I took it for something tied up in an old
sack. Look! her old head is shaved quite close; it seems as though she
had got a white skull-cap on."
"Go, children, and kneel down, and beg of these good gentlemen not to
take away your poor father, our only support," said Madeleine, anxious
by a last effort to touch the hearts of the bailiffs. But, spite of
their mother's orders, the terrified children remained weeping on their
miserable mattress.
At the unusual noise which prevailed, added to the aspect of two strange
men in the room, the poor idiot turned herself towards the wall, as
though striving to hide from them, uttering all the time the most
discordant cries and moans. Morel, meanwhile, appeared unconscious of
all that was going on; this last stroke of fate had been so frightful
and unexpected, and the consequences of his arrest were so dreadful,
that his mind seemed almost unequal to understanding its reality. Worn
out by all manner of privations, and exhausted by over-toil, his
strength utterly forsook him, and he remained seated on his stool, pale
and haggard, and as though incapable of speech or motion, his head
drooping on his breast, and his arms hanging listlessly by his side.
"Deuce take me," cried Malicorne, "if that old patterer is not going
fast asleep! Why, I say, my chap, you seem to think nothing of keeping
gen'l'men like us waiting; just remember, will you, our time is
precious! You know this is not exactly a party of pleasure, so march, or
I shall be obliged to make you."
Suiting the action to the word, the man grasped the artisan by the
shoulder, and shook him roughly; which so alarmed the children, that,
unable to restrain their terror, the three little boys emerged from
their _paillasse_, and, half naked as they were, came in an agony of
tears to throw themselves at the feet of the bailiffs, holding up their
clasped hands, and crying, in tones of touching earnestness:
"Pray, pray don't hurt our dear father!"
At the sight of these poor, shivering, half-clad infants, weeping with
affright, and trembling with cold, Bourdin, spite of his natural
callousness and long acquaintance with scenes of this sort, could not
avoid a feeling almost resembling compassion from stealing over him,
while his pitiless companion, brutally disengaging himself from the
grasp of the small, weak creatures who were clinging to him, exclaimed:
"Hands off, you young ragamuffins! A devilish fine trade ours would be,
if we were to allow ourselves to be mauled about by a set of beggars'
brats like you!"
As though the scene were not sufficiently distressing, a fearful
addition was made to its horrors. The eldest of the little girls, who
had remained in the _paillasse_ with her sick sister, suddenly
exclaimed:
"Mother! mother! I don't know what's the matter with Adèle! She is so
cold, and her eyes are fixed on my face, and yet she does not breathe."
The poor little child, whose consumptive appearance we have before
noticed, had expired gently, and without a sigh, her looks fixed
earnestly on the sister she so tenderly loved.
No language can describe the cry which burst from the lips of the
lapidary's wife at these words, which at once revealed the dreadful
truth; it was one of those wild, despairing, convulsive shrieks, which
seem to sever the very heart-strings of a mother.
"My poor little sister looks as though she were dead!" continued the
child; "she frightens me, with her eyes fixed on me, and her face so
cold!"
Saying which, in an agony of terror, she leaped from beside the corpse
of the infant, and ran to shelter herself in her mother's arms, while
the distracted parent, forgetting that her almost paralysed limbs were
incapable of supporting her, made a violent effort to rise and go to the
assistance of her child, whom she could not believe was actually past
recovery; but her strength failed her, and with a deep sigh of despair
she sunk upon the floor. That cry found an echo in the heart of Morel,
and roused him from his stupor. He sprang with one bound to the
_paillasse_, and withdrew from it the stiffened form of an infant four
years old, dead and cold. Want and misery had accelerated its end,
although its complaint, which had originated in the positive want of
common necessaries, was beyond the reach of any human aid to remove. Its
poor little limbs were already rigid with death. Morel, whose very hair
seemed to stand on end with despair and terror, stood holding his dead
child in his arms, motionlessly contemplating its thin features with a
fixed bloodshot gaze, though no tear moistened his dry, burning
eyeballs.
"Morel! Morel, give Adèle to me!" cried the unhappy mother, extending
her arms towards him; "she is not dead,--it is not possible! Let me have
her, and I shall be able to warm her in my arms."
The curiosity of the idiot was excited by observing the pertinacity with
which the bailiffs kept close to the lapidary, who would not part with
the body of his child. She ceased her yells and cries, and, rising from
her mattress, approached gently, protruded her hideous, senseless
countenance over Morel's shoulder, staring in vacant wonder at the pale
corpse of her grandchild, the features of the idiot retaining their
usual expression of stupid sullenness. At the end of a few minutes, she
uttered a sort of horrible yawning noise, almost resembling the roar of
a famished animal; then, hurrying back to her mattress, she threw
herself upon it, exclaiming:
"Hungry! hungry! hungry!"
"Well, gentlemen," said the poor, half-crazed artisan, with haggard
looks, "you see all that is left me of my poor child, my Adèle,--we
called her Adèle, she was so pretty she deserved a pretty name; and she
was just four years old last night. Ay, and this morning even I kissed
her, and she put her little arms about my neck and embraced me,--oh, so
fondly! And now, you see, gentlemen, perhaps you will tell me there is
one mouth less to feed, and that I am lucky to get rid of one,--you
think so, don't you?"
The unfortunate man's reason was fast giving way under the many shocks
he had received.
"Morel," cried Madeleine, "give me my child! I will have her!"
"To be sure," replied the lapidary; "that is only fair. Everybody ought
to secure their own happiness!" So saying, he laid the child in its
mother's arms, and uttering a groan, such as comes only from a breaking
heart, he covered his face with his hands; while Madeleine, almost as
frenzied as her husband, placed the body of her child amid the straw of
her wretched bed, watching it with frantic jealousy, while the other
children, kneeling around her, filled the air with their wailings.
The bailiffs, who had experienced a temporary feeling of compassion at
the death of the child, soon fell back into their accustomed brutality.
"I say, friend," said Malicorne to the lapidary, "your child is dead,
and there's an end of it! I dare say you think it a misfortune; but
then, you see, we are all mortal, and neither we nor you can bring it
back to life. So come along with us; for, to tell you the truth, we're
upon the scent of a spicy one we must nab to-day. So don't delay us,
that's a trump!"
But Morel heard not a word he said. Entirely preoccupied with his own
sad thoughts, the bewildered man kept up a kind of wandering delivery of
his own afflicting ideas.
"My poor Adèle!" murmured he; "we must now see about laying you in the
grave, and watching by her little corpse till the people come to carry
it to its last home,--to lay it in the ground. But how are we to do that
without a coffin,--and where shall we get one? Who will give me credit
for one? Oh, a very small coffin will do,--only for a little creature of
four years of age! And we shall want no bearers! Oh, no, I can carry it
under my arm. Ha! ha! ha!" added he, with a burst of frightful mirth;
"what a good thing it is she did not live to be as old as Louise! I
never could have persuaded anybody to trust me for a coffin large enough
for a girl of eighteen years of age."
"I say, just look at that chap!" said Bourdin to Malicorne. "I'll be
dashed if I don't think as he's a-going mad, like the old woman there!
Only see how he rolls his eyes about,--enough to frighten one! Come, I
say, let's make haste and be off. Only hark, how that idiot creature is
a-roaring for something to eat! Well, they are rum customers, from
beginning to end!"
"We must get done with them as soon as we can. Although the law only
allows us seventy-six francs, seventy-five centièmes, for arresting this
beggar, yet, in justice to ourselves, we must swell the costs to two
hundred and forty or two hundred and fifty francs. You know the sufferer
(the creditor) pays us!"
"You mean, advances the cash. Old Gaffer there will have to pay the
piper, since he must dance to the music."
"Well, by the time he has paid his creditor 2,500 francs for debt,
interest, and expenses, etc., he'll find it pretty warm work."
"A devilish sight more than we do our job up here! I'm a'most
frost-bitten!" cried the bailiff, blowing the ends of his fingers.
"Come, old fellow, make haste, will you! Just look sharp! You can
snivel, you know, as we go along. Why, how the devil can we help it, if
your brat has kicked the bucket?"
"These beggars always have such a lot of children, if they have nothing
else!"
"Yes, so they have," responded Malicorne. Then, slapping Morel on the
shoulder, he called out in a loud voice, "I tell you what it is, my
friend, we're not going to be kept dawdling here all day,--our time is
precious. So either out with the stumpy, or march off to prison,
without any more bother!"
"Prison!" exclaimed a clear, youthful voice; "take M. Morel to prison!"
and a bright, beaming face appeared at the door.
"Ah, Mlle. Rigolette," cried the weeping children, as they recognised
the happy, healthful countenance of their young protectress and friend,
"these wicked men are going to take our poor father away, and put him in
prison! And sister Adèle is just dead!"
"Dead!" cried the kind-hearted girl, her dark eyes filling with
compassionating tears; "poor little thing! But it cannot be true that
your father is in danger of a prison;" and, almost stupefied with
surprise, she gazed alternately from the children to Morel, and from him
to the bailiffs.
"I say, my girl," said Bourdin, approaching Rigolette, "as you do seem
to have the use of your senses, just make this good man hear reason,
will you? His child has just died. Well, that can't be helped now; but,
you see, he is a-keeping of us, because we're a-waiting to take him to
the debtors' prison, being sheriffs' officers, duly sworn in and
appointed. Tell him so!"
"Then it is true!" exclaimed the feeling girl.
"True? I should say it was and no mistake! Now, don't you see, while the
mother is busy with the dead babby--and, bless you! she's got it there,
hugging it up in bed, and won't part with it!--she won't notice us? So I
want the father to be off while she isn't thinking nothing about it!"
"Good God! Good God!" replied Rigolette, in deep distress; "what is to
be done?"
"Done? Why, pay the money, or go to prison! There is nothing between
them two ways. If you happen to have two or three thousand francs by you
you can oblige him with, why, shell out, and we'll be off, and glad
enough to be gone!"
"How can you," cried Rigolette, "be so barbarous as to make a jest of
such distress as this?"
"Well, then," rejoined the other man, "all joking apart, if you really
do wish to be useful, try to prevent the woman from seeing us take her
husband away. You will spare them both a very disagreeable ten minutes!"
Coarse as was this counsel, it was not destitute of good sense; and
Rigolette, feeling she could do nothing else, approached the bedside of
Madeleine, who, distracted by her grief, appeared unconscious of the
presence of Rigolette, as, gathering the children together, she knelt
with them beside their afflicted mother.
Meanwhile Morel, upon recovering from his temporary wildness, had sunk
into a state of deep and bitter reflections upon his present position,
which, now that his mind saw things through a calmer medium, only
increased the poignancy of his sufferings. Since the notary had
proceeded to such extremities, any hope from his mercy was vain. He felt
there was nothing left but to submit to his fate, and let the law take
its course.
"Are we ever to get off?" inquired Bourdin. "I tell you what, my man, if
you are not for marching, we must make you, that's all."
"I cannot leave these diamonds about in this manner,--my wife is half
distracted," cried Morel, pointing to the stones lying on his
work-table. "The person for whom I am polishing them will come to fetch
them away either this morning or during the day. They are of
considerable value."
"Capital!" whispered Tortillard, who was still peeping in at the half
closed door; "capital, capital! What will Mother Chouette say when I
tell her this bit of luck?"
"Only give me till to-morrow," said Morel, beseechingly; "only till I
can return these diamonds to my employer."
"I tell you, the thing can't be done. So let's have no more to say about
it."
"But it is impossible for me to leave diamonds of such value as these
exposed, to be lost or even stolen in my absence."
"Well, then, take them along with you. We have got a coach waiting
below, for which you will have to pay when you settle the costs. We will
go all together to your employer's house, and, if you don't meet with
him, why, then, you can deposit these jewels at the office of the
prison, where they will be as safe as in the bank; only look sharp, and
let's be off before your wife and children perceive us."
"Give me but till to-morrow,--only to bury my child!" implored Morel, in
a supplicating voice, half stifled by the heavy sobs he strove in vain
to repress.
"Nonsense, I tell you; why, we have lost an hour here already!"
"Besides, it's dull work going to berrins," chimed in Malicorne. "It
would be too much for your feelings, p'raps."
"Yes," said Morel, bitterly; "it is dull work to see what we would have
given our lives to save laid in the cold earth. But, as you are men,
grant me that satisfaction." Then, looking up, and observing the
nonchalant air with which his prayer was received, he added, "But no,
persons of so much feeling as you are would fear to indulge me, lest I
should find it a gloomy sight. Well, then, at least grant me one word!"
"The deuce take your last words! Why, old chap, there seems no end to
them. Come, put the steam on; make haste," said Malicorne, with brutal
impatience, "or we shall lose t'other gent we're after."
"When did you receive orders to arrest me?"
"Oh, why, judgment was signed four months ago! But it was only yesterday
our officer got instructions to put it in execution."
"Only yesterday! And why has it been delayed so long?"
"How the devil should I know? Come, look about you, and put up your
things."
"Only yesterday? And during the whole day we saw nothing of Louise!
Where can she be? Or what has become of her?" inquired the lapidary
mentally, as he took from his table a small box filled with cotton, in
which he placed his stones. "But never mind all that now. I shall have
plenty of time to think about it when I am in prison."
"Come, look sharp there a bit. Tie up your things to take with you, and
put your clothes on, there's a fine fellow!"
"I have no clothes to tie up, and have nothing whatever to take with me
except these jewels, that I may deposit them at the office of the
prison."
"Well, then, dress yourself as quick as you can."
"I have no other dress than that you now see me in."
"I say, mate," cried Bourdin, "does he really mean to be seen in our
company with such rags as those on?"
"I fear, indeed, I shall shame such gentlemen as you are!" said Morel,
bitterly.
"It don't much signify," replied Malicorne, "as nobody will see us in
the coach."
"Father!" cried one of the children, "mother is calling for you!"
"Listen to me!" said Morel, addressing one of the men with hurried
tones; "if one spark of human pity dwells within you, grant me one
favour! I have not the courage to bid my wife and children farewell; it
would break my heart! And if they see you take me away, they will try to
follow me. I wish to spare all this. Therefore, I beseech you to say, in
a loud voice, that you will come again in three or four days, and
pretend to go away. You can wait for me at the next landing-place, and I
will come to you in less than five minutes; that will spare all the
misery of taking leave. I am quite sure it would be too much for me, and
that I should become mad! I was not far off it a little while ago."
"Not to be caught!" answered Malicorne; "you want to do me! But I'm up
to you! You mean to give us the slip, you old chouse!"
"God of heaven!" cried Morel, with a mixture of grief and indignation,
"has it come to this?"
"I don't think he means what you say," whispered Bourdin to his
companion; "let us do what he asks; we shall never get away unless we
do. I'll stand outside the door; there is no other way of escaping from
this garret; he cannot get away from us."
"Very well. But what a dog-hole! What a place for a man to care about
leaving! Why, a prison will be a palace to it!" Then, addressing Morel,
he said, "Now, then, be quick, and we will wait for you on the next
landing; so make up some pretence for our going."
"Well," said Bourdin in a loud voice, and bestowing a significant look
on the unhappy artisan, "since things are as you say, and as you think
you shall be able to pay us in a short time, why, we shall leave you for
the present, and return in about four or five days; but you must not
disappoint us then, remember!"
"Thank you, gentlemen. I have no doubt I shall be able to pay you then."
The bailiffs then withdrew, while Tortillard, hearing the men talk of
quitting the room, had hastened down-stairs for fear of being detected
listening.
"There, Madame Morel!" said Rigolette, endeavouring to draw the wife of
the lapidary from the state of gloomy abstraction into which she had
fallen, "do you hear that? The men have gone, and left your husband
undisturbed."
"Mother! mother!" exclaimed the children, joyfully, "they have not taken
father away!"
"Morel, Morel!" murmured Madeleine, her brain quite turned, "take one
of those diamonds--take the largest--and sell it; no one will know it,
and then we shall be delivered from our misery; poor little Adèle will
get warm then, and come back to us."
Taking advantage of the instant when no one was observing him, the
lapidary profited by it to steal from the room. One of the men was
waiting for him on the little landing-place, which was also covered only
by the roof; on this small spot opened the door of a garret, which
adjoined the apartment occupied by the Morels, and in which M. Pipelet
kept his dépôt of leather; and, further, this little angular recess, in
which a person could not stand upright, was dignified by the melancholy
porter with the name of his Melodramatic Cabinet, because, by means of a
hole between the lath and plaster, he frequently indulged in the luxury
of woe by witnessing the many touching scenes occasioned by the distress
of the wretched family who dwelt in the garret beyond it. This door had
not escaped the lynx eye of the bailiff, who had, for a time, suspected
his prisoner of intending either to escape or conceal himself by means
of it.
"Now, then, let us make a start of it!" cried he, beginning to descend
the stairs as Morel emerged from the garret. "Rather a ragged recruit to
march with," added he, beckoning to the lapidary to follow him.
"Only an instant, one single instant, for the love of God!" exclaimed
Morel, as, kneeling down, he cast a last look on his wife and children
through a chink in the door. Then clasping his hands, he said, in a low,
heart-broken voice, while bitter tears flowed down his haggard cheeks:
"Adieu, my poor children! my wife! May Heaven preserve you all!
Farewell, farewell!"
"Come, don't get preaching!" said Bourdin, coarsely, "or your sermons
may keep us here till night, which is what I can't stand, for I am
almost froze to death as it is. Ugh! what a kennel! what a hole!"
Morel rose from his knees and was about to follow the bailiff, when the
words, "Father! father!" sounded up the staircase.
"Louise!" exclaimed the lapidary, raising his hands towards heaven in a
transport of gratitude; "thank God I shall be able to embrace you before
I go!"
"Heaven be praised, I am here in time!" cried the voice, as it rapidly
approached, and quick, light steps were distinguishable, swiftly
ascending the stairs.
"Don't be uneasy, my dear," said a second voice, evidently proceeding
from some individual considerably behind the first speaker, but whose
thick puffing and laborious breathing announced the coming of one who
did not find mounting to the top of the house so easy an affair as it
seemed to her light-footed companion.
The reader may, perhaps, have already guessed that the last comer was no
other than Madame Pipelet, who, less agile than Louise, was compelled to
advance at a much slower pace.
"Louise! Is it, indeed, you, my own, my good Louise?" said Morel, still
weeping. "But how pale you look! For mercy's sake, my child, what is the
matter?"
"Nothing, father, nothing, I assure you!" said Louise, in much
agitation; "but I have run so fast! See, I have brought the money!"
"What?"
"You are free!"
"You knew, then, that--"
"Oh, yes! Here, sir, you will find it quite right," said the poor girl,
placing the rouleau of gold in the hands of Malicorne.
"But this money, Louise,--how did you become possessed of it?"
"I will tell you all about it by and by; pray do not be uneasy; let us
go and comfort my mother. Come, father."
"No, not just this minute!" cried Morel, remembering that, as yet,
Louise was entirely ignorant of the death of her little sister; "wait an
instant. I have something to say to you first. But about this money?"
"All right," said Malicorne, as, having finished counting the gold, he
put it in his pocket; "precisely one thousand three hundred francs. And
is that all you have got for me, my pretty dear?"
"I thought, father," said Louise, struck with alarm and surprise at the
man's question, "that you only owed one thousand three hundred francs."
"Nor do I," replied Morel.
"Precisely so!" answered the bailiff; "the original debt is one thousand
three hundred francs; well, that is all right now, and we may put
'settled' against that: but then, you see, there are the costs, caption,
etc., amounting to eleven hundred and forty francs, still to be paid."
"Gracious heavens!" cried Louise, "I thought one thousand three hundred
francs would pay everything! But, sir, we will make up the money, and
bring it to you very soon; take this for the present, it is a good sum;
take it as paid on account; it will go towards the debt, at least, won't
it, father?"
"Very well; then all you have to do is to bring the required sum to the
prison, and then, and not till then, your father--if he is your
father--will be set at liberty. Come, master, we must start, or we never
shall get there."
"Do you really mean to take him away?"
"Do I? Don't I? Just look here; I am ready to give you a memorandum of
having received so much on account; and, whenever you bring the rest,
you shall have a receipt in full, and your father along with it. There,
now, that's a handsome offer, ain't it?"
"Mercy! mercy!" supplicated Louise.
"Whew!" cried the man, "here's a scene over again! My stars, I hope this
one isn't a-going mad, too, for the whole family seems uncommon queer
about the head! Well, I declare I never see anything like it! It is
enough to set a man 'prespiring' in the midst of winter!" and here the
bailiff burst into a loud, coarse laugh at his own brutal wit.
"Oh, my poor, dear father!" exclaimed Louise, almost distractedly; "when
I had hoped to have saved you!"
"No, no!" cried the lapidary, in a tone of utter despair, and stamping
his foot in wild desperation, "hope nothing for me; God has forgotten
me, and Heaven has ceased to be just to a wretch like me!"
"Calm yourself, my worthy friend," said a rich, manly voice; "there is
always a kind Providence that watches over and preserves good and honest
men like you."
At the same instant Rodolph appeared at the door of the small recess we
have spoken of, from whence he had been an invisible spectator of much
that we have related; he was pale, and extremely agitated. At this
sudden apparition the bailiff drew back, with surprise; while Morel and
his daughter gazed on the stranger with bewildered wonder. Taking from
his waistcoat pocket a quantity of folded bank-notes, Rodolph selected
three, and, presenting them to Malicorne, he said:
"Here are two thousand five hundred francs; give this young woman back
the money you have just received from her."
Still more and more astonished at this singular interference, the man
half hesitated to take the notes, and, when he had received them, he
eyed them with the utmost suspicion, turning and twisting them about in
every direction; at length, satisfied both as to their reality and
genuineness, he finally deposited them in his pocketbook: but, as his
surprise and alarm began to subside, so did his natural coarseness of
idea return, and, eyeing Rodolph from head to foot with an impertinent
stare, he exclaimed:
"The notes are right enough; but pray who and what are you that go about
with such sums? I should just wish to know whose it is, and how you came
by it?"
Rodolph was very plainly dressed, and his appearance by no means
improved by the dust and dirt his clothes had gathered during his stay
in M. Pipelet's Cabinet of Melodrama.
"I desired you to give back the gold you received just now from this
young person," replied Rodolph, in a severe and authoritative tone.
"You desired me! And who the devil are you, to give your orders?"
answered the man, approaching Rodolph in a threatening manner.
"Give back the gold! Give it back, I say!" said the prince, grasping the
wrist of Malicorne so tightly that the unhappy bailiff winced beneath
his iron clutch.
"I say," bawled he, "hands off, will you? Curse me if I don't think
you're old Nick himself! I am sure your fingers are cased with iron."
"Then return the money! Why, you despicable wretch! do you want to be
paid twice over? Now return the gold and begone, or, if you utter one
insolent word, I'll fling you over the banisters!"
"Well, don't kick up such a row! There's the girl's money," said
Malicorne, giving back to Louise the rouleau he had received. "But mind
what you are about, my sparky, and don't think to ill-use me because you
happen to be the strongest!"
"That's right!" said Bourdin, ensconcing himself behind his taller
associate. "And who are you, I should like to know, who give yourself
such airs?"
"Who is he? Why, my lodger, my king of lodgers, you ill-looking,
half-starved, hungry hounds! you ill-taught, dirty fellows!" exclaimed
Madame Pipelet, who, puffing and panting for breath, had at last reached
the landing where they stood; her head, as usual, adorned with her
Brutus wig, which, during the heat and bustle she had experienced in
ascending the stairs, had got pushed somewhat awry, while in her hand
she bore an earthen stewpan, filled with smoking-hot broth, which she
was charitably conveying to the Morels.
"What the devil does this old hedgehog want?" cried Bourdin.
"If you dare make any of your saucy speeches about me," returned Madame
Pipelet, "I'll make you feel my nails,--ay, and my teeth, too, if you
provoke me! And, if you don't mend your manners, my lodger, my king of
lodgers will pitch you over the banisters, and I will sweep you out into
the street, as I would a heap of rubbish."
"This old beldam will bring the whole house about our ears," said
Bourdin to Malicorne; "we've touched the blunt, our expenses and all, so
I say 'Off' is a good word."
"Here, take your property," said the latter, flinging a bundle of
law-papers at the feet of Morel.
"Pick them up, and deliver them decently; you have been paid as a
respectable officer would have been, act like one!" cried Rodolph,
seizing the bailiff vigorously with one hand, while with the other he
pointed to the papers.
Fully convinced by this second powerful grip how useless any attempt at
resistance would prove, the bailiff stooped down, and, mechanically
picking up the papers, gave them to Morel, who, scarcely venturing to
credit his senses, believed himself under the influence of a delightful
dream.
"Well, young chap," grumbled out Malicorne, "although you have got a
fist as strong as a drayman's, mind you, if ever you fall into my
clutches, I'll make you smart for this!" So saying, he doubled his fist
at Rodolph, and then scrambled down the stairs, taking four or five at a
time, followed by his companion, who kept looking behind him with
indescribable terror; while Madame Pipelet, burning to avenge the
insults offered to her king of lodgers, looked at her steaming stewpan
with an air of inspiration, and heroically exclaimed:
"The debts of the Morels are paid! Henceforward they will have plenty of
food, and can do without my messes! Look out there below!"
So saying, she stooped over the banisters, and poured the contents of
her stewpan down the backs and shoulders of the two bailiffs, who had
just reached the first floor landing.
"There goes!" screamed out the delighted porteress. "Capital! Ha, ha,
ha! there they are! two regular sops, in the pan! Well, I do enjoy
this!"
"What the devil is this?" exclaimed Malicorne, thoroughly soaked with
the hot, greasy liquid. "I say, I wish you would mind what you are about
up there, you old figure of fun!"
"Alfred!" bawled Madame Pipelet, in a tone sharp and shrill enough to
have split the tympanum of a deaf man; "Alfred, my old darling, have at
'em! They wanted to behave ill to your 'Stasie (Anastasie)! The nasty
fellows have been taking liberties,--quite violent! Knock them down with
your broom! And call the oyster-woman, and the man at the wine-vaults,
to help you! Get out, you! Get--get--get out! Cht, cht, cht! Thieves!
thieves! robbers! Cht--b-r-r-r-r-r-r--hou, hou, hou! Knock them--knock
them down! That's right, old dear! Pay them off! Break their bones!
Serve them out! Boum, boum, boum!"
And, by way of conclusion to this concatenation of discordant noises,
accompanied by a constant succession of stamping and kicking of feet,
Madame Pipelet, carried away by the excitement of the moment, flung her
earthen stewpan to the bottom of the staircase, which, breaking into a
thousand pieces at the very instant that the two bailiffs, terrified by
the yells and noises from overhead, were precipitately descending the
stairs with hasty strides, added not a little to their terror.
"Ah, ah, ah!" cried Anastasie, bursting into loud fits of laughter. "Now
be off with you,--I think you have had enough!" Then, crossing her arms,
she stood, like a triumphant Amazon, rejoicing in the victory she had
achieved.
While Madame Pipelet was thus venting her rage upon the bailiffs, Morel
had thrown himself, in heartfelt gratitude, at the feet of Rodolph.
"Ah, sir," exclaimed he, when at last words came to his assistance, "you
have saved a whole family! To whom do we owe this unhoped-for
assistance?"
"'To the God who watches over and protects all honest men,' as your
immortal Béranger says."
NOTE.--The following are some curious particulars relative to
bodily restraint, as cited in the "Pauvre Jacques," a journal
published under the patronage of the "Society for the
Furtherance and Protection of Christianity:"
(Prison Committee.) (_Comité des Prisons._)
"A protest and intimation of bodily restraint are generally
carried about by sheriffs' officers, and charged by law, the
first, 4_f._ 35_c._, the second, 4_f._ 70_c._; for these,
however, the officers usually demand, for the former, 10_f._
40_c._, for the second, 16_f._ 40_c._; thus illegally claiming
from the unfortunate victims of law 26_f._ 80_c._, for that
which is fixed by that very law at 9_f._ 50_c._
"For an arrest, the legal charge is, including stamp and
registering, 3_f._ 50_c._; coach-hire, 5_f._; for arrest and
entry in the prison books, 60_f._ 25_c._; office dues, 8_f._
Total, 76_f._ 75_c._ A bill of the usual scale ordinarily
charged by sheriffs' officers, now lying before us, shows that
these allowances by law are magnified by the extortion of the
officers into a sum of about 240_f._, instead of the 76_f._ they
are alone entitled to claim."
The same journal says: "Sheriffs' officer ---- has been to our
office, requesting us to correct an article which appeared in
one of our numbers, headed, 'A woman hung.' 'I did not hang the
woman!' observed he, angrily. We did not assert that he did,
but, to prevent any further misapprehension, content ourselves
with reprinting the paragraph in question: 'A few days ago, a
sheriffs' officer, named ----, went to the Rue de la Lune, to
arrest a carpenter, who dwelt there. The man, perceiving him
from the street, rushed hastily into his house, exclaiming, "I
am a ruined man! The officers are here to arrest me!" His wife,
at these words, hastened to secure the door; while the carpenter
ran to a room on the top of the house, to conceal himself. The
officer, finding admittance refused, went and fetched a
magistrate and a blacksmith; the door was forced, and, on
proceeding up-stairs, the woman was found hanging in her own
bedchamber. The officer did not allow himself to be diverted
from the pursuit by the sight of the corpse; he continued his
search, and at length discovered the husband in his
hiding-place. "I arrest you!" cried the bailiff. "I have no
money!" replied the man. "Then you must go to prison." "Let me
at least bid my wife adieu!" "It is not worth while waiting for
that,--your wife is dead! She has hung herself!"' Now, M. ----
(adds the journal we have quoted), what have you to say to that?
You see we have merely copied your own statement upon oath, in
which you have detailed all these frightful circumstances with
horrible minuteness!"
The same journal also cites two or three hundred similar facts,
of which the following may serve as a specimen: "The expenses
upon a note of hand for 300_f._ have been run up by the
sheriffs' officers to 964_f._; the debtor, therefore, who is a
mere artisan, with a family of five children, has been detained
in prison for the last seven months!"
The author of this work had a double reason for borrowing thus
largely from the pages of the "Pauvre Jacques." In the first
place, to show that the horrors of the last chapter are far
below reality in their painful details. And secondly, to prove
that, if only viewed in a philanthropic light, the allowing such
a state of things to go on (namely, the exorbitant and illegal
fees both demanded and exacted by certain public functionaries),
frequently acts as a preventive to the exercise of benevolence,
and paralyses the hand of charity. Thus, were a small capital of
1000_f._ collected among kind-hearted individuals, three or four
honest, though unfortunate, artisans might be released from a
prison and restored to their families, by employing the
above-named sum in paying the debts of such as were incarcerated
for amounts varying from 250 to 300_f._! But when the original
debt is increased threefold by the excessive and illegal
expenses, even the most charitable recede from the good work of
delivering a fellow creature, from the impression that
two-thirds of their well-intentioned bounty would only go into
the pockets of pampered sheriffs' officers and their satellites.
And yet no class of unfortunate beings stand more in need of aid
and charitable assistance than the unfortunate class we have
just been speaking of.