out on a long journey?"
"Yes, seigneur, I do."
"What is there in your gourd?"
"There is some--some very bad eau-de-vie."
"Very bad!--Ah! you rascal! from the way in which you say that, I would
swear that you are lying. Give us your gourd; and we will judge whether
its contents are so bad as you say."
"But, seigneur, I have been drinking from it, and I could not allow----"
"Give it to me, all the same; we must be governed by circumstances.
Come, gallows bird! I verily believe that you hesitate!"
Repressing a sigh, the valet handed his master an enormous gourd.
Sénange swallowed a mouthful, then cried:
"Ah! I suspected as much; it is exquisite, delicious,--it is thirty
years old, I will stake my head! The villain must have stolen it from my
father's cellar.--Here, Léodgard, judge for yourself."
Léodgard took the gourd and drank slowly but at great length, so that
the young men called out:
"Enough, count, enough!--He will drink it all! We too want a chance to
judge of the liquor!"
At last Léodgard passed the gourd to his neighbor, who, after drinking,
passed it to another. They did not cease to drink, until they had
exhausted the contents of the gourd. Then they returned it to Bruno and
made themselves comfortable on the grass, some half reclining, others at
full length. Léodgard, who had maintained a sitting posture, with his
head resting on his left hand, said to his companions:
"What do you wish me to tell you about, messieurs? an amourette among
the common people? Mon Dieu! it is always the same story! They kept the
girl closely confined, but not so closely that she did not see me pacing
the street under her window."
"So long as parents leave windows in their houses," said Monclair, "they
cannot answer for the innocence of their daughters!"
"There was a balcony on which she had placed a pot of flowers, which she
used to come out to water."
"Messieurs, it is not without a motive that women display so much love
for flowers; intrigues almost always begin with bouquets."
"Hold your tongue, Monclair! sleep off your wine, and allow the count to
finish his story."
"Sleep off your eau-de-vie, you fellows!"
"I threw a billet-doux in at the window; she pretended to be angry at
first; I did not appear again for four days, and on the fifth I found
the little one on the balcony at midnight, peering into the darkness in
quest of me!"
"Ah! that's the way! it is always like that!"
"The next day, with the aid of a silk ladder, I stood by my charmer's
side!--You see, messieurs, that this affair was like every other;
indeed, it was too easy--no jealous husband, no guardian keeping watch."
"Oh! that sort of thing is very insipid; when there's no danger, there's
no pleasure."
"Oh! Sire de Beausseilly, what you say is altogether false; there is
always pleasure in the conquest of a pretty girl! And it seems that this
one is an angel of beauty.--Is that so, Léodgard?"
"Yes, she was very pretty."
"She _was_! Is she dead, pray?"
"No, but I have not seen her for several weeks; that is why I use the
past tense."
"Oho! so it is already over?"
"Already? An amourette that lasts two months--is not that long enough?"
"It's a long time!"
"It is too long!"
"It is never too long when one is happy."
"And then a mother arrived--a very unamiable person, so it seems, who
had been absent a long while. If I had still been in love, the obstacles
that would thenceforth have made our rendezvous an affair of some
difficulty would have served only to sharpen my desires; but my love was
extinct. Faith! the little one may look out for herself now as best she
can; it is no longer any concern of mine."
"Well said! Of course, a gentleman could not run the risk of a
controversy with churls!"
"Faith! messieurs, for my part, I care for none but _grandes dames_!
They are so adroit in carrying on an intrigue, they display so much
coquetry, that it keeps you in breathless suspense! A fellow is much
more in love when he is not certain that he is loved in return!"
"And you, Sire de Beausseilly?"
"I! do you suppose that I have patience to make love to a woman? to
dance attendance on her and languish and sigh? Nonsense! never! I like
the love affairs that give one no trouble!"
"Oh, yes! we all know what that means! He frequents Rue Fromenteau, Rue
Tire-Boudin, Rue Brisemiche, Rue du Hurleur, Rue de la
Vieille-Bouclerie."
"Peste! La Valteline, you seem to know perfectly where all the wantons'
houses are; for you mention all the streets to which _girls who are mad
over their bodies_, as they are called, are obliged to confine
themselves."
"One must needs know his Paris, messieurs."
"Yes; especially when one desires to meet _golden girdles_."
"Oh! messeigneurs, the edict of King Louis VIII has long been forgotten,
and those damsels no longer comply with it; so that the proverb: 'A good
reputation is worth more than a golden girdle' has no meaning now."
"I say, messieurs, it must be very late."
"You mean that it must be very early in the morning!"
"About three o'clock, I fancy."
"Oh! more than that; it is four o'clock at least; I am sure that the
dawn will soon be here."
"Do we propose to finish the night in this place?"
"It is very strange that Montrevert has not overtaken us!"
"He certainly will not come now!"
"I do not propose to wait for daylight to return to Paris, in the
condition in which I am! If some _âme damnée_ of the cardinal should
happen to meet me, Richelieu would hear of it, and I should receive a
sharp reprimand.--Come, messieurs, let us get up and go on."
"No, no!" murmured the Marquis de Sénange, rolling over on the grass; "I
am very comfortable here. Let La Valteline go, if he pleases! I shall
stay; for when day breaks, the little dairymaids from the country will
cross the Pont-aux-Choux; we will watch for the prettiest ones, and they
will have to pay toll,--eh, Léodgard?--Well, he is still thinking of his
losses at cards!"
"Sénange, you have dice there," cried Léodgard suddenly, raising his
head; "I will play you for my cloak--you were admiring it last night. I
will stake it against fifty livres, and, on my word as a gentleman, it
cost me more than a hundred--which I have not yet paid, it is true, but
which I still owe to my tailor."
"What, Léodgard! do you want to play again?" cried Beausseilly; "but you
are not in luck, and if you lose your cloak, how can you return to
Paris?"
"I will stake my sword, my doublet, my knee-breeches! I will stake
myself, when I have nothing else left! But I must play! So long as I
have anything left to stake, by hell! it will always be so.--Well,
Sénange, do you accept the stake I propose?"
"Yes, I agree; your cloak against fifty livres. But what shall we play
on? We can't throw dice on the grass; they would not lie evenly, and the
result would be doubtful."
"Play on my back, messieurs," said Monclair, lying flat on his stomach
on the grass. "I promise not to stir."
"So be it; on Monclair's back."
The two young men each took a dicebox, and their companions drew near to
watch the game. The valet brought the lantern nearer, while Monclair
lay on his stomach and did not stir.
"Begin!" said Léodgard in a gloomy voice, handing the dice to his
adversary.
"As you please," said Sénange; and placing the dice in the box, he threw
them on Monclair's back.
"Four!" cried Beausseilly and La Valteline.
"Four!" echoed Léodgard, with a smile of satisfaction.
"What a beastly throw!" muttered Sénange; "I fancy that I may say
good-bye to my fifty livres.--Go on, count--play!"
Léodgard took the dice and threw them with a trembling hand.
"Three!" cried Sénange. "Pardieu! but I am in luck! Your cloak belongs
to me, Léodgard!"
The young Comte de Marvejols dropped his head on his breast, while the
other gentlemen held their peace and seemed distressed by the ill
fortune which pursued Léodgard.
At that moment a distant, indistinct noise reached the ears of the young
men.
"Do you hear, messieurs?" said La Valteline, listening intently; "do you
hear?"
"I hear nothing," said Monclair.
"I do," said Beausseilly; "I hear a noise that seems to be coming
nearer; it sounds like outcries, imprecations."
"It seems to me that someone is coming toward us. Listen! listen! the
footsteps are becoming more distinct."
"Suppose it were Montrevert?"
"Can he have been attacked? We must go to his assistance!"
"We had better hail him first.--Take that lantern, Bruno, and hold it in
the air.--Do as I do, messieurs.--Holà, Montrevert! is that you?"
The shouts of the young men were met by an answering shout.
"It is he," said Léodgard; "and he is not far away."
"There he is! there he is!"
"Come this way! this way!"
A young man of twenty-eight to thirty years, dressed with elegance, but
with his garments in disorder, his belt gone, his face transformed by
excitement, and without his sword, crossed the Pont-aux-Choux at full
speed and joined the friends whose shouts had guided him.
"It is Montrevert!"
"Mon Dieu! what is the matter with him? what a ghastly pallor!"
"What a state his clothes are in!"
"What has happened to you, Montrevert?"
"Have you been attacked?"
"Wait a moment, messieurs; give me a chance to breathe.--Yes, I have
been attacked."
"Are you wounded?"
"No, not a scratch! And yet, I assure you that I tried to defend myself.
It was Giovanni, the famous brigand, who attacked me--yonder, on the
other side of the bridge, on the right."
"Giovanni?"
"Oh, yes! he was dressed just as those whom he has robbed describe him,
just as he was when Léodgard saw him: the long olive-green cloak, and
the cap bristling with hair---- Ah! the villain!--Look you, messieurs,
this is how it happened. I stayed behind longer than I expected after
your departure; so that when I started, wishing to make up for lost time
and to overtake you the sooner, I walked very rapidly; I lengthened my
strides, sometimes cutting across the market gardeners' gardens, and
devoting all my thought to keeping my feet out of the holes and ruts and
excavations which make such cross cuts extremely dangerous. So it is not
surprising that I did not see my robber approaching. However, I think
that he must have been hiding behind a tree, for he suddenly blocked my
path without my hearing the sound of his footsteps. I was thunderstruck
at seeing before me a man whose aspect was so truly frightful, and I
instantly put my hand to my sword hilt; but instead of the raucous tones
which I expected to hear, it was almost a falsetto voice that said to
me:
"'Do not draw your sword, but give me your purse, seigneur; that will be
the quickest way.'
"'My purse!' I cried. 'Ah! do you expect to obtain it without striking a
blow? I propose to kill you instead of giving you my money.'
"As I spoke, I drew my sword and expected to transfix the robber with
ease. But the rascal must be a powerful hand at fence. With two blows of
a weapon which he held, he shattered mine; then, throwing me to the
ground, he snatched my purse from my belt! Vive Dieu! my purse, which
contained two hundred gold pieces! Ah! the gallows bird!--And it was all
done so dexterously and so quickly that I was hardly on the ground when
it was all over; no purse, no robber--Giovanni had disappeared!--Then it
was that I began to shout imprecations, to relieve myself a little. I am
not wounded, it is true; but to be beaten and robbed like that by that
bandit! It is enough to make a man damn himself!"
The young men were stupefied by what they had heard. Léodgard alone
sprang to his feet, crying:
"Damnation! I will not let this opportunity escape. It was on the
right-hand side of the road, beyond the bridge, that you were attacked,
you said, Montrevert, did you not? It was on the path leading to
Vincennes, then?"
"Yes; but what do you mean to do, Léodgard?"
"To avenge you, or rather to avenge us both; for I, like yourself, have
been beaten and stripped by Giovanni! But this time I will kill him, or
he will kill me!"
"Can you think of such a thing, Léodgard? Pursue that brigand? Why, he
must be far away before now! He will not have remained near the scene
of his latest exploit."
"Perhaps he will. However, I will go a long distance, if need be; but I
will find that man!"
"In that case," said La Valteline, "we will go with you; we will not
allow you to run such a risk alone."
"No, messieurs, I beg you, do not come with me; you will make success
impossible. If the robber can be surprised, it must be done by cunning.
He would hear the footsteps of several people, and that would put him on
his guard. Once more, I say, let me make the attempt alone. One man
against one man--that is enough; and if I meet my death in this
undertaking, do not pity me; at this moment I care very little for
life!"
When he had finished speaking, Léodgard ran across the Pont-aux-Choux
and disappeared in the darkness.
"Léodgard! Léodgard!" called Beausseilly; "we will wait for you here; we
will not move until you return.--I don't know if he heard me."
"What the devil ever put that idea into his head?"
"There is no sense in what he has undertaken to do," said Montrevert;
"judging from the address and agility that this Giovanni shows in his
attacks, it is inconceivable that he should allow himself to be taken by
surprise."
"I agree with you; but Léodgard is intensely excited! He has gambled
away all that he possessed--even more. Life has little attraction for
him at this moment! Faith! if he meets Giovanni, I fancy that the
villain will not come off so cheaply."
"Pardieu!" said Sénange, half rising; "you remind me that the handsome
cloak which the count is wearing is my property now, as I won it from
him a moment ago at dice. I ought not to have let him go off with it!"
"Ah! Sénange, you are a very pitiless creditor!"
"Look you, if he meets Giovanni, the latter will be the victor, in my
opinion; and as he will not find an obolus on Léodgard, he will take his
cloak. Would it not be better that I should have it than that brigand?"
"Listen, messieurs! don't you hear a noise?"
"No, nothing."
"Oh! how the time drags! I wish Léodgard would come back."
Ten minutes passed, and with each minute the young men became more
anxious; they no longer laughed, they even ceased to talk, for they
listened with all their ears.
"Here comes the day," muttered Montrevert, "and Léodgard does not
return! I begin to tremble lest he has been the victim of his own
boldness."
"Messieurs," said La Valteline, "if he does not return in five minutes,
we must go in search of him."
"Yes, yes!"
"Wait--I hear footsteps."
"Bah! it's a peasant going to market; look--you can make her out now on
the bridge."
"True; the time for thieves to be abroad has passed."
"Poor Léodgard!"
"Messieurs, see that man walking so fast across the bridge. Ah! this
time it is he! it is our friend!"
"Victory! it must be that he has carried the day!"
All the young men ran to meet Léodgard, for it was really he who was
approaching. As they drew near him they were struck by his pallor and by
the sinister gleam of his eyes, which avoided theirs.
"Well, comte, did you win the fight?"
"Or did you fail to find the brigand?"
"Oh! messieurs, they fought; for, see, Léodgard has blood on his
clothes!"
"Ah! Giovanni has ceased to live!"
"You are mistaken," murmured Léodgard, in an altered voice; "it is true
that I fought with the brigand; I wounded him, for his blood spurted on
me. But it seems that his wound was of trifling consequence, for it did
not prevent him from running away, and it was impossible for me to
overtake him! He disappeared behind the hedges, and I saw him no more."
"Ah! so much the worse!"
"What a pity!"
"The poor count has nothing to show for his exploit.--Luckily, you are
not wounded, are you?"
"No, not at all."
"That is the principal thing, for we were beginning to be very anxious
about you!"
"Messieurs, messieurs, it is broad daylight; let us hasten home, or we
too shall be taken for robbers."
"Yes, yes, let us go!"
"Are not you coming with us, Léodgard?"
"No, messieurs; I am in no hurry to return to Paris. This adventure,
this fight, has tired me; the country air will do me good."
"Au revoir, then!"
"Au revoir!"
The young men walked rapidly away toward the city, while Léodgard slowly
crossed the Pont-aux-Choux, glancing furtively behind him from time to
time.
XXVII
THE FOSSÉS JAUNES
Valentine de Mongarcin was reclining carelessly on a sofa in her music
room. That was her usual place of refuge when she was not with her aunt;
but for several days past the study of the zither and mandolin had been
abandoned.
The noble heiress had learned from her maid that the little clerk's
tales were founded on truth; Miretta had told her what she had learned
from Giovanni. From that moment Valentine's lovely features had shown
signs of gloomy preoccupation. If a smile sometimes played about her
lips, it seemed inspired rather by the hope of vengeance than by one of
those agreeable thoughts which usually cause young girls to smile.
Valentine rang a bell, and Miretta soon stood before her.
"Did you do my errand, Miretta? Did you go to the office of my aunt's
solicitor?"
"Yes, mademoiselle; I went there this morning. I easily found Maître
Bourdinard's office; it is on Rue du Bac. I crossed Pont-Rouge, which,
they say, was built not long ago to take the place of the ferry [_bac_]
that used to be established there, opposite that street, which took its
name therefrom.--Oh! I am beginning to know Paris very well now!"
"Well, did you find that little clerk who came here the other day, and
to whom I owe such--such valuable discoveries?"
"Monsieur Bahuchet? No, mademoiselle, he was not at the office; but
there were several other clerks, who stared at me so insolently that I
was very much embarrassed. When I asked for Monsieur Bahuchet, all the
scribblers began to laugh; and they made some very coarse jests among
themselves, which brought the blood to my cheeks.
"'Ah! you want to see Bahuchet, do you?' they said; 'ah! it is that
villain, that seducer of a Bahuchet, whom you want to see?--On my word,
he's a lucky rascal!--It seems that you don't go in for height, or for
physique!--Who would believe that such a pygmy would be picked out by
such a pretty girl?--I say, when you take his arm, you must tower above
him! and if he doesn't walk fast enough to suit you, you can easily take
him under your arm and carry him; he weighs only thirty-three pounds and
a half.'
"To put an end to all this nonsense, I said loudly:
"'Messieurs, I wish to see Monsieur Bahuchet in behalf of Mademoiselle
Valentine de Mongarcin, who is my mistress, and who desires to speak
with him.'
"Ah! mademoiselle, you should have seen what a change took place in the
office when they heard your name! All the clerks assumed a most sedate
air, and the jests instantly came to an end; they became very polite,
and one of them, who, when he took off his cap to salute me, showed a
head prematurely bald, said: 'Mademoiselle, Bahuchet is out, on business
for the master, and he will not return for an hour at the earliest. But
if mademoiselle your mistress wishes to speak with Bahuchet on business,
one of us might take his place; myself, for example, Eudoxe Plumard; I
am ready to go at once to the Hôtel de Mongarcin. Unless you prefer to
speak to the solicitor himself; but he is not in, he has just mounted
his mule to go to the Palais.'
"I answered that it was about a matter with which Monsieur Bahuchet was
already familiar, and that, for that reason, you desired to speak with
him personally. Thereupon they promised to send him to you as soon as he
returned.
"'But,' added the clerk who called himself Plumard, 'don't expect him
very early; for when Bahuchet goes out, it is always an eternity before
he comes back.'
"And that, mademoiselle, is the result of my visit to the solicitor's
office."
"Very well," said Valentine, apparently lost in thought. After a few
moments, she added: "Is it a long while, Miretta, since you have been to
see your acquaintance the bath keeper's daughter on Rue Saint-Jacques?"
"No, mademoiselle, not more than a week."
"Did you ask her about--about her friend, the other bath keeper's
daughter?"
"Yes, mademoiselle; I asked her if she had seen her lately. She answered
that, as Bathilde's mother had returned, she could see her only very
rarely. And when I tried to question her further on the subject, she
abruptly changed the conversation. Which led me to think that, if she is
in her friend's confidence, she does not propose to betray her secret."
"A fine secret, on my word! which must be known ere this to the whole
city, except perhaps those who are most deeply interested in it; but it
is always so.--At what time were you on Rue du Bac, Miretta?"
"At half-past ten, mademoiselle."
"And it is now?"
"After twelve."
"Well, we must wait until it pleases Monsieur Bahuchet to return to his
desk. Really, these solicitors are very patient with messieurs their
clerks! Go, Miretta; and as soon as the fellow arrives at the house,
bring him hither yourself--instantly! Above all things, do not let my
aunt know anything of all this!"
"Never fear, mademoiselle; in fact, Madame de Ravenelle is at this
moment shut up in her oratory, and she is paying little heed to what
goes on in the house."
The clock on the Capucines Church, which could be heard at the Hôtel de
Mongarcin, struck four. Valentine had been for a long time in a state of
the most intense impatience; she could not stay in one place; she
wandered hither and thither; took up a book and threw it down again in a
moment; attempted to play on her zither, but let the instrument fall
from her hands; and exclaimed continually:
"He will not come! Four o'clock, and he went out early this morning! And
a solicitor keeps such clerks in his employ! Ah! how quickly I would
dismiss such fellows if I were in his place!--Suppose I should intrust
to Miretta the execution of my plan? But, no! no woman can perform such
a commission; besides, she is in my service--she would be recognized,
and I do not want to be compromised; I want to be revenged! but in such
wise that no one will know from what quarter the vengeance comes."
Valentine had abandoned all hope of seeing the solicitor's clerk that
day, when the door of the room in which she was sitting was suddenly
thrown open, and Miretta announced:
"Monsieur Bahuchet."
At a sign from her mistress she admitted the little man, who confounded
himself in reverences to Mademoiselle de Mongarcin.
"Here you are at last, monsieur! that is most fortunate!" cried
Valentine; "it seems that it is very difficult to have speech with
you.--Stay, Miretta, stay; I have no secrets from you, as you
know.--When you go out for an hour, monsieur le clerc, does it mean that
you will not return during the day?"
"A thousand pardons, mademoiselle!" replied Bahuchet, trying to assume a
graceful attitude; "most certainly, if I had known, if I had been able
to guess, that mademoiselle wished to speak with me, I would have
returned to the office much sooner; and yet, mademoiselle, I am very
excusable this time. I did not pass my time, as I often do, watching the
open-air exhibitions of Turlupin and Gauthier-Garguille, or Brioché's
Marionettes. No, indeed! The news was too interesting to-day; it had to
do with so serious an event, accompanied by such mysterious
circumstances, that--I give you my word, mademoiselle--the least
inquisitive man could not have resisted the desire to see what I saw."
"Some new amourette, I suppose? some nocturnal rendezvous that you
surprised?"
"No, mademoiselle; this is no question of amourettes, but of a murder
committed last night. When I say _last night_, I am wrong; it was
perhaps a fortnight ago, perhaps longer; but the victim was not
discovered until last night."
"A murder! and you witnessed it?"
"No, thank God! When I say _thank God_, I do not mean that I am not very
curious to know how it came about. But, no, although I am very brave,
there are things that make one shudder simply to think of them!"
"Come, monsieur, pray explain to us what you have learned that is so
shocking?"