APPEARANCES.
After she had again endeavored to cheer up the orphans, the sewing-girl
descended the stairs, not without difficulty, for, in addition to the
parcel, which was already heavy, she had fetched down from her own room
the only blanket she possessed--thus leaving herself without protection
from the cold of her icy garret.
The evening before, tortured with anxiety as to Agricola's fate, the girl
had been unable to work; the miseries of expectation and hope delayed had
prevented her from doing so; now another day would be lost, and yet it
was necessary to live. Those overwhelming sorrows, which deprive the poor
of the faculty of labor, are doubly dreaded; they paralyze the strength,
and, with that forced cessation from toil, want and destitution are often
added to grief.
But Mother Bunch, that complete incarnation of holiest duty, had yet
strength enough to devote herself for the service of others. Some of the
most frail and feeble creatures are endowed with extraordinary vigor of
soul; it would seem as if, in these weak, infirm organizations, the
spirit reigned absolutely over the body, and knew how to inspire it with
a factitious energy.
Thus, for the last twenty-four hours, Mother Bunch had neither slept nor
eaten; she had suffered from the cold, through the whole of a frosty
night. In the morning she had endured great fatigue, in going, amid rain
and snow, to the Rue de Babylone and back, twice crossing Paris and yet
her strength was not exhausted--so immense is the power of the human
heart!
She had just arrived at the corner of the Rue Saint Mery. Since the
recent Rue des Prouvaires conspiracy, there were stationed in this
populous quarter of the town a much larger number of police-officers than
usual. Now the young sempstress, though bending beneath the weight of her
parcel, had quickened her pace almost to a run, when, just as she passed
in front of one of the police, two five-franc pieces fell on the ground
behind her, thrown there by a stout woman in black, who followed her
closely.
Immediately after the stout woman pointed out the two pieces to the
policeman, and said something hastily to him with regard to Mother Bunch.
Then she withdrew at all speed in the direction of the Rue Brise-Miche.
The policeman, struck with what Mrs. Grivois had said to him ( for it was
that person), picked up the money, and, running after the humpback, cried
out to her: "Hi, there! young woman, I say--stop! stop!"
On this outcry, several persons turned round suddenly and, as always
happens in those quarters of the town, a nucleus of five or six persons
soon grew to a considerable crowd.
Not knowing that the policeman was calling to her, Mother Bunch only
quickened her speed, wishing to get to the pawnbroker's as soon as
possible, and trying to avoid touching any of the passers-by, so much did
she dread the brutal and cruel railleries, to which her infirmity so
often exposed her.
Suddenly, she heard many persons running after her, and at the same
instant a hand was laid rudely on her shoulder. It was the policeman,
followed by another officer, who had been drawn to the spot by the noise.
Mother Bunch turned round, struck with as much surprise as fear.
She found herself in the centre of a crowd, composed chiefly of that
hideous scum, idle and in rags, insolent and malicious, besotted with
ignorance, brutalized by want, and always loafing about the corners.
Workmen are scarcely ever met with in these mobs, for they are for the
most part engaged in their daily labors.
"Come, can't you hear? you are deaf as Punch's dog," said the policeman,
seizing Mother Bunch so rudely by the arm, that she let her parcel fall
at her feet.
When the unfortunate girl, looking round in terror, saw herself exposed
to all those insolent, mocking, malicious glances, when she beheld the
cynical and coarse grimace on so many ignoble and filthy countenances,
she trembled in all her limbs, and became fearfully pale. No doubt the
policeman had spoken roughly to her; but how could he speak otherwise to
a poor deformed girl, pale and trembling, with her features agitated by
grief and fear--to a wretched creature, miserably clad, who wore in
winter a thin cotton gown, soiled with mud, and wet with melted snow--for
the poor sempstress had walked much and far that morning. So the
policeman resumed, with great severity, following that supreme law of
appearances which makes poverty always suspected: "Stop a bit, young
woman! it seems you are in a mighty hurry, to let your money fall without
picking it up."
"Was her blunt hid in her hump?" said the hoarse voice of a match-boy, a
hideous and repulsive specimen of precocious depravity.
This sally was received with laughter, shouts, and hooting, which served
to complete the sewing-girl's dismay and terror. She was hardly able to
answer, in a feeble voice, as the policeman handed her the two pieces of
silver: "This money, sir, is not mine."
"You lie," said the other officer, approaching; "a respectable lady saw
it drop from your pocket."
"I assure you, sir, it is not so," answered Mother Bunch, trembling.
"I tell you that you lie," resumed the officer; "for the lady, struck
with your guilty and frightened air, said to me: 'Look at yonder little
hunchback, running away with that large parcel, and letting her money
fall without even stopping to pick it up--it is not natural.'"
"Bobby," resumed the match-vendor in his hoarse voice, "be on your guard!
Feel her hump, for that is her luggage-van. I'm sure that you'll find
boots, and cloaks, and umbrellas, and clocks in it--for I just heard the
hour strike in the bend of her back."
Then came fresh bursts of laughter and shouts and hooting, for this
horrible mob has no pity for those who implore and suffer. The crowd
increased more and more, and now they indulged in hoarse cries, piercing
whistles, and all kinds of horse play.
"Let a fellow see her; it's free gratis."
"Don't push so; I've paid for my place!"
"Make her stand up on something, that all may have a look."
"My corns are being ground: it was not worth coming."
"Show her properly--or return the money."
"That's fair, ain't it?"
"Give it us in the 'garden' style."
"Trot her out in all her paces! Kim up!"
Fancy the feelings of this unfortunate creature, with her delicate mind,
good heart, and lofty soul, and yet with so timid and nervous a
character, as she stood alone with the two policemen in the thick of the
crowd, and was forced to listen to all these coarse and savage insults.
But the young sempstress did not yet understand of what crime she was
accused. She soon discovered it, however, for the policeman, seizing the
parcel which she had picked up and now held in her trembling hands, said
to her rudely: "What is there in that bundle?"
"Sir--it is--I am going--" The unfortunate girl hesitated--unable, in her
terror, to find the word.
"If that's all you have to answer," said the policeman, "it's no great
shakes. Come, make haste! turn your bundle inside out."
So saying, the policeman snatched the parcel from her, half opened it,
and repeated, as he enumerated the divers articles it contained: "The
devil!--sheets--a spoon and fork--a silver mug--a shawl--a
blanket--you're a downy mot! it was not so bad a move. Dressed like a
beggar, and with silver plate about you. Oh, yes! you're a deep 'un."
"Those articles do not belong to you," said the other officer.
"No, sir," replied Mother Bunch, whose strength was failing her; "but--"
"Oh, vile hunchback! you have stolen more than you are big!"
"Stolen!" cried Mother Bunch, clasping her hands in horror, for she now
understood it all. "Stolen!"
"The guard! make way for the lobsters!" cried several persons at once.
"Oh, ho! here's the lobsters!"
"The fire-eaters!"
"The Arab devourers!"
"Come for their dromedary!"
In the midst of these noisy jests, two soldiers and a corporal advanced
with much difficulty. Their bayonets and the barrels of their guns were
alone visible above the heads of this hideous and compact crowd. Some
officious person had been to inform the officer at the nearest guard
house, that a considerable crowd obstructed the public way.
"Come, here is the guard--so march to the guard-house!" said the
policeman, taking Mother Bunch by the arm.
"Sir," said the poor girl, in a voice stifled by sobs, clasping her hands
in terror, and sinking upon her knees on the pavement; "sir,--have
pity--let me explain--"
"You will explain at the guard-house; so come on!"
"But, sir--I am not a thief," cried Mother Bunch, in a heart-rending
tone; "have pity upon me--do not take me away like a thief, before all
this crowd. Oh! mercy! mercy!"
"I tell you, there will be time to explain at the guard-house. The street
is blocked up; so come along!" Grasping the unfortunate creature by both
her hands, he set her, as it were, on her feet again.
At this instant, the corporal and his two soldiers, having succeeded in
making their way through the crowd, approached the policeman. "Corporal,"
said the latter, "take this girl to the guard-house. I am an officer of
the police."
"Oh, gentlemen!" cried the girl, weeping hot tears, and wringing her
hands, "do not take me away, before you let me explain myself. I am not a
thief--indeed, indeed, I am not a thief! I will tell you--it was to
render service to others--only let me tell you--"
"I tell you, you should give your explanations at the guard-house; if you
will not walk, we must drag you along," said the policeman.
We must renounce the attempt to paint this scene, at once ignoble and
terrible.
Weak, overpowered, filled with alarm, the unfortunate girl was dragged
along by the soldiers, her knees sinking under her at every step. The two
police-officers had each to lend an arm to support her, and mechanically
she accepted their assistance. Then the vociferations and hootings burst
forth with redoubled fury. Half-swooning between the two men, the hapless
creature seemed to drain the cup of bitterness to the dregs.
Beneath that foggy sky, in that dirty street, under the shadow of the
tall black houses, those hideous masses of people reminded one of the
wildest fancies of Callot and of Goya: children in rags, drunken women,
grim and blighted figures of men, rushed against each other, pushed,
fought, struggled, to follow with howls and hisses an almost inanimate
victim--the victim of a deplorable mistake.
Of a mistake! How one shudders to think, that such arrests may often take
place, founded upon nothing but the suspicion caused by the appearance of
misery, or by some inaccurate description. Can we forget the case of that
young girl, who, wrongfully accused of participating in a shameful
traffic, found means to escape from the persons who were leading her to
prison, and, rushing up the stairs of a house, threw herself from a
window, in her despair, and was crushed to death upon the paving-stones?
Meanwhile, after the abominable denunciation of which Mother Bunch was
the victim, Mrs. Grivois had returned precipitately to the Rue Brise
Miche. She ascended in haste to the fourth story, opened the door of
Frances Baudoin's room, and saw--Dagobert in company with his wife and
the two orphans!