business for the office; I was about to return to Maître Bourdinard's,
planning, I admit, to go by way of Pont-Neuf, for I know no more
attractive, more diverting spot for the curious observer. It is the
rendezvous of the whole city! Who does not cross Pont-Neuf? One sees
there at the same moment, soldiers, bourgeois, priests, students, abbés,
courtiers, pages, peasants, and women!"
"Do you propose to tell us the history of Pont-Neuf, Monsieur Bahuchet?"
"No, mademoiselle, no; excuse me. My story has to do with a much less
cheerful bridge, the dismal Pont-aux-Choux!"
At the mention of the Pont-aux-Choux, Miretta involuntarily shuddered
and listened more closely to what the little clerk said.
"Yes, mademoiselle; it was close by the Pont-aux-Choux that the horrible
tragedy, which was discovered only this morning, took place.--I was
saying--where was I?--Oh, yes! I was about to return to my solicitor's
office, when, as I was taking a glass in a wine shop, I heard a peasant
say to a good woman--I say a good woman, she may have been a bad one,
but it's the custom, you know, to say _good woman_ when you are speaking
of a woman advanced in years--he said: 'Yes, mother, there has been
someone murdered on the road I take from Faubourg Saint-Antoine to the
Market. And I tell you, it isn't very pleasant; I don't know yet whether
I shall dare to go across Pont-aux-Choux after dark.'
"My curiosity being aroused at that, I accosted the peasant and asked
him what he meant, and he answered:
"'About two hours ago, they found in the Fossés Jaunes----'"
"What are the Fossés Jaunes, Monsieur Bahuchet?" said Valentine; "I am
very ignorant, am I not? but we are taught so few things!"
"The Fossés Jaunes, mademoiselle, were made in the time of King Charles
V, and they surrounded the outer wall of Paris that was built long ago,
in the time of Philippe-Auguste; they extend from the Bastille to Porte
Saint-Honoré."
"Are they filled with water?"
"There used to be water in them, no doubt, mademoiselle, but for a long
time they have contained nothing but muddy pools, in which very tall
grass grows, and from which it isn't at all easy to get out if you
happen to fall in. But as they are no longer of any use, I presume they
will very soon be filled up.--I resume my narrative. The peasant said:
"'They found a dead man in the Fossés Jaunes, near Porte Saint-Antoine,
on the other side of the Pont-aux-Choux. From the condition of his
wounds, they know that he must have been killed quite a while ago;
consequently, no one knows just when the crime was committed. And to
think that I went by there at three o'clock in the morning, monsieur!
Suppose the brigands had seen me! No doubt they would have murdered me
too!'
"'But,' I said to the peasant, 'as you passed the place at three o'clock
this morning, how do you know that they found a dead man there two hours
ago? Have you been back there?'
"'No; but I just heard about it from a neighbor, a market gardener like
myself, who just came from the faubourg. He saw the poor fellow they had
taken out of the Fossés Jaunes; it seems he is a young man, and as
handsome as a picture! He is still lying there at full length on the
bank. Near the place where they found him, there are archers and
soldiers keeping watch; and they have gone to tell the magistrates, who
will make an investigation, of course, and search the neighborhood, and
try to find something to put them on the track of the guilty ones.'
"I' faith, mademoiselle, I no sooner heard that than I felt a most
intense longing to see the unfortunate man, who was found last night in
the Fossés Jaunes. And I said to myself: 'If they need the magistrates,
they may need a solicitor's clerk too; I must go and see the man, and
then I can tell the whole story _de visu_!'
"So I took my legs around my neck--the phrase is still in use, although
it lacks sense--and I can assure you that I ran without stopping,
although I overturned two children, an ass, and a milkwoman on the way;
but that is a detail.
"When I arrived at the Pont-aux-Choux, someone pointed out the spot
where the poor young man still lay. I hurried to the place, and I was
not the only one whom curiosity had drawn thither; there was a large
crowd, and the soldiers had much ado to keep a space clear about the
corpse. But as I am never at a loss for an expedient, I said to one of
the guards that I was a clerk and employed in the magistracy, so he let
me go near."
"So that you saw the man who was found dead?" said Miretta, in a voice
trembling with emotion.
"Yes, my pretty lady's-maid, I saw it as plainly as I see you.--Ah! what
a calamity! It was a young man--that is to say, a man of twenty-seven or
twenty-eight at most, with a graceful figure, very well built, and a
face--oh! a fascinating face! so refined and distinguished! He must have
been a nobleman, or a gentleman of some ancient family."
"He was not disfigured, then, not wounded in the face?"
"Not a scratch! A surgeon who was there, with the lieutenant of
police--for the lieutenant had come in person to examine the victim--the
surgeon said, after looking at the wounds:
"'This young man was struck from behind, evidently when he was seated;
he received a sword thrust in the back, which went completely through
his body, and then another in the heart; but the latter when he had
already fallen to the ground and lost consciousness. There cannot have
been any struggle; death must have been instantaneous, and the
unfortunate man had no time to defend himself.'"
"But did no one recognize the young man?" said Valentine; "his rank or
his profession must have been indicated by his clothing. Did the
lieutenant of police discover anything to put him on the track?"
"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, it was very difficult to guess. In the first
place, the victim had been robbed of his cloak and hat and belt. The
poor young man had nothing on him but his doublet and short-clothes,
both of black cloth, and boots of a very common sort. But there was
nothing in his pockets--neither money, nor papers, nor weapons;
absolutely nothing! How is it possible, then, to guess who he is?--The
lieutenant of police, after a careful examination of the body and the
clothes, said:
"'Evidently this young gentleman had just arrived in Paris, for we do
not remember having seen him before. He must have been attacked and
robbed by Giovanni, who took his money, his papers, his weapons, and
even a part of his clothes. Yes, such a crime can have been committed by
none but that bold Italian, who then hurled the body of his victim into
the moat, so that this latest crime might be less quickly discovered.'"
"Giovanni!" cried Miretta; "always Giovanni! As soon as a murder is
committed, everyone agrees to charge it to his account! What is there to
prove that it was he who killed this young man?"
"Hoity-toity! here is the little brunette defending the robber again!"
exclaimed Bahuchet, with a laugh. "Really, my dear, I begin to think
that you are one of his band!"
Miretta flushed crimson.
"I say that," she faltered, "because people tell so many lies, and
invent so many stories that----"
"Mon Dieu! you do not need to justify yourself!" said Valentine, smiling
at her.--"But is that all, Monsieur Bahuchet? Is your terrible story at
an end?"
"Yes, mademoiselle, that is all. The lieutenant of police has had a
search made in the neighborhood, hoping that something might be found
belonging to the victim; but what is the use of searching now, when the
crime was committed perhaps three weeks ago? If it had not been for a
dog, nothing would have been discovered! But those excellent beasts are
often much cleverer and more cunning than we are, and they have a most
astonishing scent! This one stopped on the edge of the Fossés Jaunes,
and his master called him in vain--he would not budge. As such
persistence on the dog's part seemed very strange, his master went to
him to find out what he was doing. By peering intently into the high
grass in the moat, he finally discovered something that looked like a
man's arm; he ran for a ladder, and they found the unfortunate victim.
But that was all; for they have not succeeded in finding anything in the
fields round about, or in the moat where the poor young man lay!
Doubtless he was coming to Paris for enjoyment and diversion, and he met
death before he had put his foot in the city.--But so it goes!"
"I am very, very sorry for the poor fellow who perished so miserably!"
said Valentine; "but I did not know him; and as I can do nothing to
avenge him, you will allow me, Monsieur Bahuchet, to turn my attention
now to the subject that led me to ask you to call here."
"I am listening, mademoiselle; I am entirely at your service; I desired
simply to prove to you that if I returned late to the office, I was not
without some excuse. That idiot of a Plumard began at once to make
remarks!"
"Enough, monsieur!--Listen: I expect a service from you. Are you
disposed to oblige me, and, above all things, never to say a word which
may lead anyone to suspect that you have acted by my orders?"
"Mademoiselle, I am entirely devoted to you; and as for my
discretion---- Oh! there is no danger!"
"But you are very fond of talking, monsieur, and of telling everything
you have learned!"
"Everything! That depends; I know many things now that nobody else
knows--secrets; for instance, when Plumard----"
"Well! do you propose to betray them now, monsieur?"
"No, mademoiselle, no! I was about to say; even if Plumard should
question me, he would learn nothing.--But what sort of service does
mademoiselle require of me?"
"Something very simple and very easy," said Valentine, opening a small
desk and taking from it the white plume that Bahuchet had sold her.
"Look, Monsieur Bahuchet, do you recognize this plume?"
"Perfectly: it is the one I picked up on Rue Dauphine, under the balcony
which Monsieur Léodgard de Marvejols had just scaled."
"That is right. Well, I wish you to go to Landry's bathing
establishment, and ask to see the fascinating Bathilde's mother. I know
that she has returned home. You will hand this white plume to that woman
and say to her: 'Your daughter's lovers lose their plumes at night when
they scale balconies to join her; here is one belonging to a noble lord,
whose name Mademoiselle Bathilde will be able to give you.'--Then you
will bow and take your leave; and that is all. As I do not wish to put
you out for nothing, be kind enough to accept this purse as compensation
for the trouble I cause you."
The little clerk observed at a glance the plumpness of the purse which
Valentine offered him with the plume; but he hesitated about taking
them.
"Well?" continued the nobly born maiden, testily; "are you not willing
to do what I ask?"
"Pardon, pardon, mademoiselle; assuredly, I am too fortunate in the
confidence which you manifest in me."
"Then take this plume and this purse!"
"But, you see, I am wondering in my own mind how Dame Ragonde will take
it--that is young Bathilde's mother's name. I know the family. Dame
Ragonde is a very bad one, they say; and when I tell her that her
daughter receives lovers at night, that will not afford her great
pleasure! What if she should fall on me with fists and claws?"
"What, Monsieur Bahuchet! You, who claim to be so brave, afraid of a
woman's anger?"
"Because with a woman one must accept anything without retaliating;
whereas, with a man--what a difference! If he ventures to lack respect,
to strike us, why, we fall on him and pay him back twice or thrice what
we have received."
"Very well, monsieur; instead of taking the plume to this Bathilde's
mother, hand it to her father, Landry the bath keeper; then, if he
resorts to violence, you can pay him back twice or thrice."
The little clerk scratched his ear and opened his nostrils wider than
ever; he saw that the young lady had no faith in his courage; however,
he made up his mind at last and took both plume and purse, saying:
"I will do as you first suggested, mademoiselle; I will hand this plume
to Dame Ragonde; I think that that will be the better way; and as for
her claws, I will brave them without a tremor."
"And if she should ask who sent you?"
"No one! I am acting on my own account. I picked up the plume, and I
bring it back; and that will be no falsehood."
"Very good; discretion so far as I am concerned, monsieur, is what I
especially enjoin upon you. You will carry this plume to the bath
keeper's to-day?"
"It shall be handed to Dame Ragonde to-day."
"If my errand is left undone, I warn you that I shall know it!"
"It shall be done; I swear it by the Basoche!"
"Au revoir, Monsieur Bahuchet!"
"Mademoiselle, I have the honor to present my respectful
homage.--Bonsoir, pretty brunette! Oh! what eyes you make at me, my
dear!--Come, come! be calm! I won't speak ill of robbers again!"
"Well!" said Valentine to Miretta, who sat as if lost in thought after
the solicitor's clerk had gone. "You say nothing, Miretta; is it because
you do not approve of what I have done?"
"That poor girl! She will be very unhappy when her parents know of her
fault!" murmured Miretta, with a sigh.
"And suppose another woman should become the mistress of the man you
love?" rejoined Valentine, seizing her maid's arm; "would not you be
revenged?"
"Oh, yes! yes! You have done well!"
And Miretta raised her eyes, which seemed to emit flames.
XXVIII
PLUMARD
On leaving the Hôtel de Mongarcin on this occasion, Bahuchet did not
jostle the passers-by or jingle the money in his purse; the little clerk
was beginning to be accustomed to windfalls. Moreover, at that moment
his joy was moderated by another sentiment. He had carefully concealed
the white plume under his doublet; then he had counted the contents of
the purse twice over. He found therein a hundred livres tournois in
coins of various denominations, and he gazed with admiration at the
money; then he carefully bestowed the purse in his belt, saying to
himself:
"It is a great pity that I have to carry this plume to Landry the bath
keeper! There is nothing pleasant about that commission; it may even be
dangerous! Pardieu! Mademoiselle de Mongarcin knows it well enough! She
would not pay such a price to have an errand done that is apparently so
simple, if she did not foresee that the messenger would be exposed to
great risk!--Let me see, let me see! I must cudgel my brain a bit and
try to think if there is not some way of keeping my back or my face out
of reach of cudgels or claws.--I have promised that this white plume
shall be handed to-day to young Bathilde's parents; it shall be, for an
honest youth has only his word! Moreover, I am in a solicitor's office!
But solicitors know how to get around the most knotty questions; suppose
I should get around this errand of mine--suppose I should send somebody
else in my place to carry this infernal plume, prescribing the words he
was to say? Why, that would come to precisely the same thing in the end,
and my person would run no risk whatever!"
Having decided upon this plan, Bahuchet bent his steps toward the
wretched eating house where he and his comrade Plumard generally dined.
On entering the place, he saw his friend seated at his usual table; he
took his seat opposite him, with an even more than ordinarily expansive
smile.
"Enchanted to find you, Plumard, my boy! I should have been disappointed
if you had not come here to-night. You are having supper--I will do
likewise, for I have a keen appetite. What you are eating looks very
good, Plumard; what in the devil is it?"
"It is a rabbit stew, according to our host; but it's too good to be
rabbit, it must be cat at least!"
"Ah! bigre! I propose to have some of it, too.--Holà! waiter! bring me a
portion of the same dish that my friend has; if it isn't the same
animal, I won't have it! And by the way, waiter, you may also bring me
some fricot of veal, with small onions--a large portion! Make it double,
and I will give my friend Plumard some; he has a weakness for veal, like
myself. And, waiter, I could eat some of that delicious fish which is
noted for its bones--a carp, as fine as those at Fontainebleau, where
they resemble whales; a fried carp! That is a feast in itself--with a
sprig of parsley on it; and I know that my friend Plumard does not
profess a profound contempt for the carp. Moisten it all with that
Argenteuil light wine that is so well _stripped_--you know what I mean,
don't you? the old, not the new; the really old, that you don't make
yourself.--Go, waiter, and if I am content with you I will grease your
palm, as we say at the office."
"But I say!" said Plumard, fixing his great round eyes on his vis-à-vis;
"what does this mean, Bahuchet? Have you had a legacy left you? or has a
fair lady of mature years let her favors fall upon you?"
"No! nothing of the sort! Certainly, a lady might fall in love with me
as well as with another. I am not a foe of the fair sex. Although there
is always a reverse side to the medal, I will not say of women, with
Suetonius, that we must _missam facere uxorem_!--That Suetonius was not
a gallant man."
"Answer what I ask you, instead of quoting your classics!"
"It seems to me, Plumard, that with you I may venture to take a few
strides into the domain of science. You are a clerk like myself; you
must understand Latin. If you do not understand it, I grieve for you."
"What an infernal chatterbox! he keeps branching off from his subject."
"That proves that I have facility in elocution, elasticity in my ideas.
There are many people who would like to branch off from their subject,
and who cannot. They have to remain nailed fast to it, for lack of
imagination to think up anything else;--_quid agis_? You wish to know
why I treat you so handsomely this evening, do you not? Well, I propose
to tell you: I won a dozen livres in a game of _brisque_ with a churl,
and I propose to consume a part of it with you. Do you think that I do
wrong?"
"No, no! far from it; it is an excellent idea of yours!"
"Ah! it is very lucky that you approve of my action."
"Do you play at _brisque_?"
"I play at all games at which I win; they are the only ones that amuse
me.--But here comes the veal. Let us attend strictly to business. There
are idiots who say: _Non ut edam vivo, sed ut vivam edo_. For my part, I
am not ashamed to say that I live for nothing else except to eat; for if
I did not eat, I should die. Why, then, should not one do with pleasure,
with sensuous delight, a thing which we are bound to do every day?--Let
us fall to!"
Bahuchet, possessor of a stomach whose capacity was extraordinary,
swallowed with surprising rapidity everything that the waiter placed
between him and Plumard; he consumed, unaided, almost the entire
contents of the dishes which he had ordered for two; so that his friend
stopped him at last, saying:
"It was hardly worth while to offer to treat me, if you propose to eat
everything!"
"_Quid rogas_, comrade? why do you eat so slowly? I concluded that you
were not hungry, and I thought that it was useless to leave anything."
"If I ate as fast as you, I should choke to death!"
"Well, I will go slower now.--Besides, I want to talk with you; and when
one is talking, one cannot eat; that is why I laid in a stock in
advance.--Plumard, I am going to tell you something which will make you
very happy."
"Bah! is it that our solicitor is going to give us a crown more a
month?"
"Ouiche! I advise you to count on that! He is more likely to cut us
down; he has already threatened to do it to me!--Come, think, think of
something that might be of immense benefit to you."
Plumard raised his great eyes to the beams which sustained the ceiling.
"Have you met a rich woman who wishes to marry me?"
"You haven't guessed yet; but with what I have discovered, I make no
doubt that you will very soon fascinate some wealthy dowager, who will
lay her crowns at your feet."
"Come, explain yourself, Bahuchet; you know that I am not very strong at
guessing, and you keep me in suspense too long!"
"_Quid festinas_? What's the hurry? Think; take your time!"
"If you don't tell me, I will go away!"
"What a keg of powder!"
"That is my nature!"
"Well, listen: I have discovered in a _cul-de-sac_ an old hag who has
invented a pomade that infallibly makes the hair grow on the baldest
skulls and those most rebellious under cultivation!"
Plumard frowned and looked at his comrade with a wrathful air,
muttering:
"Do you mean to make sport of me, as usual? You know, Bahuchet, that I
don't like that. You have already told me a lot of stories about pomades
that did not exist. You have sent me to ask for them to people who have
laughed in my face. I want no more of your practical jokes! I will fight
you if you begin that game again. I am not afraid to fight; I am no
coward! Look out, or I will hit you a crack!"
"Ta! ta! ta! What a nice, amiable boy it is!--You treat a person, and
try to make yourself agreeable to him, and to reward you he threatens to
beat you!--All right; we will say no more about it, my dear fellow; I
will keep my discovery to myself, and if a few of my hairs should fall
out some day I shall know how to remedy it."
Plumard was silent for a moment, nibbling a piece of dry bread.
Then he murmured, in a softer tone:
"Then why have you fooled me so often? How do you expect me to have
confidence in you?"
"It's all right! it's all right! let us say no more about it."
"But this old hag who makes the pomade--do you know her address?"
"No, I tell you, I no longer know anything; I was lying, I was trying to
make fun of you! I deserve nothing better than the rope's end or the
cudgel!"
"Come, come, Bahuchet! I was too quick; I am sorry."
"Ah! when a friend tells me that he is sorry, I cannot harbor ill will
against him.--Yes, I know where to find the hag."
"And she sells this pomade?"
"No, she won't sell it to anybody!--but to me, having taken a fancy to
me, she will give a jar."
"Oh! that is much more agreeable! And when will you have this jar?"
"To-morrow, if I choose."
"And you will give it to me?--Ah! you are a friend!"
"Yes, I will give it to you, but on one little condition, and that is
that you will do me a favor in return. Between friends, you know, when
one obliges the other, he always expects reciprocity."
"What is it that I must do?" asked Plumard, with a frown.
"A very simple thing, which will not disturb you in the least. When you
go home to-night, go into Landry the bath keeper's place--he is your
neighbor--and hand his wife this white plume, which I picked up under
their balcony one night when I walked home with you. Then you will say
to Dame Ragonde: 'Your daughter's lovers lose their plumes at night,
scaling your balcony; here is one which I picked up, and which belongs
to a young nobleman whose name your daughter will tell you.'--And then
you will go away. It's the simplest thing in the world."
Plumard pushed his stool away from the table, crying:
"A very pretty commission that! I shall be well treated when I deliver
that message.--No, no! do your errand yourself--you may have all the
profit."
"As you please; but since you refuse to do it, we will say no more about
the jar of pomade."
And Bahuchet began to whistle with an indifferent air. After a few
minutes Plumard said, between his teeth:
"What an idea, to send to that girl's mother the plume her lover
lost!--That is downright wicked, it's a villainous trick!--Have you any
reason to complain of pretty Bathilde? I am surprised at that; I thought
that you didn't know her."
"Plumard! there are mysteries which it is impossible to divulge.--As for
the girl, she will say to her mother: 'It is not true, I have no lover';
and that will be the end of it."
"Do you think so?"
"Parbleu! are girls who have lovers ever at a loss for a lie?"
"That is true.--But another suggestion occurs to me."
"State it."
"Let us assume that I undertake this--thorny commission; how do I know
that you will give me the jar of pomade then? You will laugh in my face
when I claim it."
"I understand your suspicion, having now and then played some rather
neat tricks on you; and I am so far from being angry with you, that I
propose to prove to you that it will not be so this time."
And taking from his belt the purse he had received, Bahuchet produced a
beautiful rose crown and placed it in Plumard's hand, saying:
"See, here is gold--and of good alloy. If I do not give you the jar of
pomade when you claim it, I will allow you to keep this gold piece and
not return it to me.--Do you think that I am tricking you, now?"
Plumard turned the coin over and over in his hand; he weighed it, rang
it on the table, then put it in his pocket, and offered his comrade his
hand, saying:
"It is a bargain; I will deliver the plume."
"And you will say exactly what I have told you?"
"I will say it without omitting a word. Where is the plume?"