EDITION DE LUXE
ARTHUR
BY
EUGÈNE SUE
ILLUSTRATED
NATIONAL LIBRARY COMPANY
NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1899_
By FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER
I. The Post-road
II. The Cottage
III. The Curé's Tale
HÉLÈNE
IV. The Bereavement
V. Hélène
VI. The Avowal
VII. The Letter
VIII. The Portrait
IX. The Pavilion
X. The Contract
MADAME LA MARQUISE DE PËNÂFIEL
XI. Portraits
XII. The Gentleman-riders
XIII. The Opéra
XIV. A Friend
XV. Projects
XVI. The Green Album
XVII. Prima-sera
XVIII. On What the World Said, and on Coquetry
XIX. On Parlour Christianity
XX. The Parlour
XXI. The Avowal
XXII. Contradictions
XXIII. Marguerite
XXIV. Days of Sunshine
XXV. Suspicion
XXVI. An Encounter
XXVII. The Exhibition
XXVIII. The Departure
LORD FALMOUTH
XXIX. Plans
XXX. The Yacht
XXXI. The Voyage
XXXII. The Combat
XXXIII. The Doctor
XXXIV. Friendship
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"'I HELD THE BRIDLE'"
"'I SAW THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER TURN A SOMERSAULT'"
"'I THRUST THE BARREL AGAINST HIS CHEST AND FIRED'"
ARTHUR, Vol. I.
INTRODUCTION
ARTHUR.
CHAPTER I
THE POST-ROAD
A strange chance put me in possession of this journal. I had established
myself for several months in a central city in one of our southern
departments, whose shore is bathed by the Mediterranean, and I was
desirous of purchasing a country place in that marvellously picturesque
land. I had already looked at several pieces of property when, one day,
the notary, who had been giving me some necessary directions for one of
my explorations, said to me: "I have just received notice that at about
eight leagues from here, in one of the most beautiful situations in the
world, neither too far nor too near to the sea, there is a country house
for sale. I know nothing of it whatever; but if you would like to see
it, monsieur, here are the precise directions how to find it. You will
have to arrange the affair with the curé of the village of ----."
"What!" said I, "with the curé? You don't suppose that it is the
presbytery that is for sale?"
"I know nothing about it," answered the lawyer; "but, judging from the
high price that they ask, I hardly think it can be a parsonage.
Besides," added he, with a sly and convincing look, "it seems as though
there would be a thousand ways of arranging an advantageous and private
sale, because it is sold in consequence of sudden departure or a sudden
death, I don't know exactly which; the fact is, there have been told so
many absurd and stupid stories on the subject, that I should make myself
ridiculous in repeating them all to you. What is certain, however,
monsieur, is that such an opportunity is always a good one, and my
correspondent assures me that there has been no end of money spent on
the property."
"A swift departure! A sudden death! Who, then, lived on the place?" I
asked.
"I know nothing, absolutely nothing. My correspondent tells me nothing
more, and 'tis by the greatest accident that he has even heard of this
good opportunity; because out of a hundred people in this department,
you will scarcely find ten who could tell you anything about the village
of ----."
I know not why, but for some reason this information, vague as it was,
excited my curiosity; I decided to set forth immediately, and
consequently ordered horses to be put to the carriage.
"Oh," said the notary, "I advise you not to think of venturing to travel
in a carriage over those dreadful roads. 'Tis a post-road, to be sure,
but the nearest relay to ---- is still five leagues off, and to get
there they say one has to go through regular sand-pits, where one sinks
so deep that 'tis a thousand chances to one if you ever get out again.
If you take my advice you will go on horseback."
I took his word for it, and had a portemanteau fastened behind my
saddle, and thus, preceded by a postilion, I started for the village of
----, which was eight leagues from the city where I was staying.
I got over the first three leagues in about an hour, changed horses at
the relay, and then struck into the open country.
It was towards the middle of the month of May, a delicious morning,
cooled by a gentle northerly breeze. The roads, deep with a sand as
yellow as ochre, though detestable for carriages, which would sink in to
the hubs of the wheels, were not at all bad for horseback riding. The
farther I advanced towards the interior of the uncultivated and wild
country, the more nature became grand and majestic, though perhaps at
the same time somewhat monotonous. Before me stretched out great plains
of rose-coloured heather towards a horizon of bluish mountains; to the
left were numerous wooded hills, while to the right was a continuous
curtain of verdure, formed by the willows and poplars which bordered a
shallow but very clear stream, always fordable but very swift, which we
were continually crossing; for it wandered with many turnings across the
road, which sometimes descended between high banks, covered with
hawthorn, mulberry, and wild rose bushes, sometimes, emerging from these
hollows, ascended to the plain that could be seen straight before us as
smooth as a tennis-court.
"Have you ever been to ----?" I asked my guide, whose strongly marked
face, extreme neatness, and easy seat denoted a soldier whose term of
service was over. I had heard his companions at the post call him "the
hussar," and everything about the man was such a contrast to the
negligent appearance and noisy familiarity of the rest of these
Southerners! "Have you ever been to ----?"
"Yes, monsieur, twice in my life," he replied, stopping his horse and
placing himself a little behind me; "I went there once two years ago,
and then I went there three months ago, but _dame!_ the two goings were
not much alike!"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, the first time," said he, in an excited way, still animated by the
remembrance of such a glorious journey, "that was the fine ride! _Cent
sous_ for the guide! A courier! Six horses to the berlin!"
And by way of illustration my guide began cracking his whip in a way
that almost deafened me.
Not being content with this manner of describing the rank of the
travellers, I asked him:
"But who was in that carriage? Who paid the courier?"
"I don't know, monsieur, the blinds of the berlin were pulled down. On
the seat behind sat a man and a woman, both elderly folks who looked as
though they might be confidential servants."
"And the courier, had he nothing to say?"
"The courier? Not he, a ferocious looking fellow with never a word to
say! The only time I heard him speak was when he ordered the horses, and
that didn't take long, _allez_, monsieur! He jumped from his horse, put
two louis d'or in the hand of the _maître de poste_, and said: 'Six
horses for the carriage and one riding-horse, _cent sous_ for the guide,
forty sous paid in advance.' And then off he went at a gallop."
"And he never gave his master's name?"
"_Non_, monsieur."
"What sort of livery did the courier wear?"
"Stop a bit, monsieur, and I'll try to remember. Yes--a green jacket,
with gold braid on all the seams, a cap just like the jacket, red silk
sash, coat-of-arms on his buttons, a hunting-knife--moustaches--oh, the
whole business--grand style--but too fierce to suit me, _parole
d'honneur!_"
"And since then have you never found out who you led to ----?"
"_Non_, monsieur."
"And the carriage, when did it come back?"
"But, monsieur, it never did come back."
"What!" said I, much surprised, "but there must be a good many country
houses at ----?"
"_Non_, monsieur, there is only one in the place; all the rest are only
little huts for the peasants."
"Then there is another road besides this one?"
"Oh, _non_, monsieur; this is the only possible way of getting back."
"And nobody ever came back this way?"
"_Non_, monsieur."
"It is most extraordinary! And how long ago did all this happen?"
"Very nearly two years, monsieur."
"Now tell me about your other journey," said I to my guide, hoping to
get at some explanation of the mystery.
"Oh, that is a journey never to forget! I'll remember that one for many
a day! Ah, the old scoundrel! The old brigand! The sly old fox!"
"_Voyons_, come, tell me about it, _mon garçon_; the thought of it
seems to put you in an ill temper."
"Ill temper! You better believe it does, and a good reason. It is not so
much for the trick he played on me as for the mean way he did it,--and
then to think of his having called me his good friend, the old monster!
_Son bon ami!_
"You shall hear the whole story, monsieur.
"That ride was about three months ago. It was my turn next to ride. I
was warming myself in the stable between my horses, for it was very
cold. About eleven o'clock in the morning I heard click-clack,
click-clack, a cracking of the whip for all the world as if for another
hundred sous for the guide, and the voice of Jean Pierre all out of
breath calling out, 'Two carriage horses!'
"'_Bon_,' said I, 'here is a good thing and it is my turn to go; 'so I
went out to get a look at the traveller.
"Well, there stood a sort of an old gig with a leather apron, a thing we
used to call a berlingot; the whole affair so covered and spattered with
mud that you couldn't tell its colour.
"I said to myself: 'Good! 'Tis a doctor who is hurrying to see some one
at the point of death.' But, _saprejeu!_ What do I hear but the voice of
the dying man himself calling out from the depths of the berlingot,
calling as loud as it could call--half a cough--half a sniffle:
"'Ah, beggar of a postilion! Ah, miserable wretch! Do you mean to kill
me tearing over the roads like this?'
"The fact is Jean Pierre had dragged the old thing along at such a pace
that the hubs were smoking.
"'Hope you've got the worth of your money, _not'-bourgeois_,' said Jean
Pierre, in a furious voice to the old berlingot.
"'There'll be four francs for the guide, won't there?' said I to Jean
Pierre, who was unhitching his horses and swearing like a pagan.
"'Four francs! Not much! Ah, no, not much; the old beast only pays
twenty-five sous.'
"'Twenty-five cents? The tariff? And you galloping him along as though
he were a prince?'
"'Yes; and the only thing I'm sorry for is that I couldn't jounce him
any faster.'
"'You are a great stupid,' said I to Jean Pierre.
"'You'll do just as I did.'
"'Not much,' said I to Jean Pierre.
"Well, they finally brought me my mount. I had named him Devastator
because he was continually committing injuries to others. It was a way
he had, that beast; man or horse, 'twas all the same to him, so that he
could get in a bite or a kick, in front or behind, anywhere in fact.
Poor Devastator!" added my guide, with a sad sigh.
Then he continued: "They brought me my horse, and before mounting him I
saw a great, dried-up, bony hand as dark as walnut-wood stretched out of
the leather apron of the berlingot to pay Jean Pierre his twenty-five
sous.
"Seeing Jean Pierre get only his twenty-five sous, I shuddered--and I
said to myself:
"'All right, old consumptive, you're going to get a famous promenade for
your twenty-five sous. We're going to take it at a walk.'
"'Where are we going, monsieur?' I asked the berlingot, for I saw no
one, even the big, dried-up, yellow fist had disappeared.
"'We are going to ----,' answered a voice, but so feebly, so faintly,
that it was as the voice of a dying man; and then the voice added,
always half coughing, half sniffling, 'But I must tell you one thing, my
good friend--'
"His good friend!" repeated my guide, in a rage.
"'I must warn you that the slightest jolt gives me frightful pain; I am
almost dead from the horrible bumpings that your miserable comrade has
inflicted on me. I wish to travel gently, very gently, at the least
little trot, slowly, do you understand? because'--and he coughed as
though he were breathing his last--'because the least little shock might
kill me--and I mean to pay only the tariff that the law allows,
twenty-five sous for the guide, my good friend.' And thereupon he began
a fit of coughing as though he were about to expire, the old wreck!
"'Ah, you only pay twenty-five sous! And you call me your _bon ami!_
Aha! So it hurts you to go too fast, does it? Wait a bit! Wait a bit,
old miser!' said I, as I jumped a-straddle Devastator's back. 'I'll give
you your gentle trot, yes, a nice gentle little trot!' And crack! off I
go full blast, and I joggle the old gig as though I meant to shake it to
pieces, but fast, ah, but so fast, that if the old fox had been paying a
thousand francs to the guide (as they say the great Napoleon used to
do), he could not have gone any faster. And let me tell you that I took
in all the ruts and gullies on the way.
"Pretty soon I got the horse into a real gallop,--oh, something like a
gallop! _V'lan!_ You should have seen the jumps that the old berlingot
took in flying over the ground; but to do justice to every one, I will
say that the old berlingot must have been solidly built not to have gone
all to pieces a thousand times."
"Unhappy man," said I to my guide, "you might have killed that poor sick
man!"
"Kill him! Ah, well, yes! Kill him indeed, the old brigand! I had no
such good luck as that; but we went at such a pace, monsieur, that in
spite of these sandy roads, and with only one extra horse, I got him to
---- (and that is two posts and three-quarters) in an hour and a half."
"The devil you did!" said I. "Well, that was a ride!"
"But hold on, monsieur. Wait till you hear the end. The voice in the
berlingot told me not to go into the village; so when we got to a hill
about two hundred yards from ---- we came to a halt, and I unhitched
poor Devastator for the last time, for he was foundered and died
afterwards, died from that race; so dead that my master put me on the
retired list for fifteen days, and that same scamper cost me more than a
hundred crowns; yes, me, poor devil as I am!
"But you must admit, monsieur, that it is hard lines to be made to take
twenty-five cents, and then to be called '_mon bon ami_' by such a
scoundrel as that. One is apt to forget himself."
"Continue," said I.
"Well, monsieur, I unfasten my horse and open the door, expecting to see
my old invalid lying fainting in the bottom of the old wagon, for I
hadn't heard a sound for the last hour. Thousand thunders! what do I
see? A great strong fellow who was clacking his tongue against the roof
of his mouth, and corking up a bottle of rum; and who says to me, in a
great deep voice fit for a cathedral singer:
"'Hey, stupid, now you have learned how one can travel like a prince at
the lowest figure. Ever since leaving Paris I have made three leagues
and a half every hour, without a courier, and never have paid more than
twenty-five sous.' And so saying, he jumps out of the carriage as
lightly as a stag, the monster!"
I could not prevent myself from laughing at this strange way of getting
over the ground swiftly and cheaply, and my guide continued:
"You understand, monsieur, how furious one was only to be paid
twenty-five sous, and to be called _mon bon ami?_ The more the sly old
fox begged to be taken gently, the more one wished to get even with him
by jolting him over the road at the devil's own gait; while all the time
the faster one went the better he was pleased, old miserable! Hey,
monsieur, did you ever hear of such an old bandit? One must be without a
heart to pretend to be ill when one is vigorous and solid as an old
post-horse! But that is not all yet; I asked him where he was going. He
replied:
"'Wait for me here, and if I am not back in an hour you can go about
your business.'
"'And how about the carriage?' said I.
"'If I don't return, you can take it back to the post-house, and some
one will come to get it.'
"'And your baggage?'
"'I take it with me.'
"And he showed me a long box, flat, square, and quite heavy, which he
carried under his arm, and then he disappeared in the undergrowth, which
is very thick in that place.
"In this cursed village there is no inn, so I fed my horses and waited;
but poor Devastator was so blown that he couldn't eat. I was hungry
enough, however, and so I took a bite, and at the end of an hour my old
deceiver had not got back. Well, I wait two hours and no one comes yet,
so I start for the village which is in the distance, for say I to
myself, he must be in the country house of the folks of the six horses
and the courier. So I ring at the little door, and then at the big
door,--nobody. I knock and pound as though I meant to break the door
down,--nobody.
"Finally I got tired, and came back and waited another half-hour; still
nobody came. My faith! So then I went back to the post-house. We put the
old berlingot under a shed, and from that time until now no one has been
to claim it. So probably the old brigand finds himself well off where he
is, and where you are going, monsieur; but all the same it is a curious
kind of a town,--folks go there, but nobody ever comes back."
Like my guide, I was much struck by this strange story, and became more
and more curious.
"But that man," said I, "the last one that you took to ----, was he very
old?"
"Pretty well on, about fifty years I should say, dry as a chip, hair
perfectly white, but eyes and eyebrows black as charcoal. And now I
think of it, when I asked him about his baggage, and he showed me the
big box, he laughed,--ah, but such a laugh, he almost foamed at the
mouth; and I noticed that his teeth were very pointed and wide apart,
which they do say is a sign of wickedness; but that doesn't surprise me
when a man is infamous enough to offer the guide twenty-five sous, and
then to call him his _bon ami!_"
"And what did he wear?" I asked, in spite of myself, more and more
interested in the recital.
"Oh, he was well clothed: a great dark-coloured redingote, a black
cravat, and the cross of honour. With all this a face the colour of
copper and a large bony frame, quite in the style of my old commandant
Calebasse, chief of squadron in the Ninth Hussars,--a great old tough,
all muscles and bones."
"And have you never heard him spoken of since?"
"_Non_, monsieur. Ah, I forgot to tell you that while I was waiting
there I heard something like two or three shots. That is all; perhaps
some one was shooting thrushes in the vineyards."
The heavy square box had made such an impression on my mind that I
shivered, thinking that here, perhaps, had taken place in this lonely
spot some bloody and unwitnessed duel, had not the ruse resorted to by
this personage, in order to be driven rapidly and at little expense,
seemed to contradict all idea of a combat. Such a foolish idea seemed
unnatural in such a solemn time. What struck me as extremely singular
was that no one had returned from this strange village, where, as my
guide said, "folks go, but never come back."
However, the notary had assured me that the only important habitation
was the one that was offered for sale. What, then, had become of the
travellers in the first carriage? And where was he who went in the
berlingot?
I puzzled about it all until my head felt dizzy, and I longed to be at
---- so as to clear up this strange mystery.
When my guide had told me about the carriage with the blinds pulled
down, I had thought of a runaway match, but the courier and the servants
seemed ill suited to the secrecy desired in an elopement.
However, this old man who arrived two years afterwards, his strange
manners, the pistol-shots, and then the sudden disappearance of every
one,--certainly these were extraordinary circumstances and my curiosity
was at the highest pitch.
"Here we are at last at ----, monsieur," said the guide. "You will admit
that there is a fine view. And, see, monsieur, it is right here near
this dead plantain-tree that I set down the old fellow of the
berlingot."
We had, in fact, arrived on the heights which overlook the village of
----.