THE CLOSET. THE ABDUCTION
As everything coheres, everything is connected in this lower world,
there is no chance; but there are many rebounds which transmit from one
to another events, effects, for which we bless or curse fate,--as they
are fortunate or unfortunate,--instead of tracing them to their original
causes, from which, in truth, we are sometimes removed so far as to have
no cognizance of them.
Thus it came to pass that our young Urbain had blessed chance on
perceiving that the light was still burning in Blanche's room; but if
the young girl had not gone to rest it was not by chance, but because
Marguerite could not decide to go up to bed in her new room before
knowing where the little door in the back of her alcove led.
Now if the garrulous old maidservant had not confessed to her master
that she had witnessed his nightly vigils, the latter would not have
made her change her lodging; and the fear which induced him to do so was
due to other causes still more remote; thus, by a series of events,
Marguerite's gossip had led to Blanche's hearing Urbain's sweet and
tender voice sing the romance which had so enchanted her in the morning.
"Yes, mademoiselle," said the old woman, some moments before the young
lover began to sing, "I know I should die of fright if I should have to
sleep alone in that horrid room, formerly inhabited by a magician,
without knowing where that little door leads to--perhaps into that
Odoard's laboratory. Who knows whether he isn't still there? These
sorcerers are sometimes shut up by themselves for half a century,
searching for secrets which will enable them to give human kind into the
hands of the devil. I am sure that M. Touquet, who is very indifferent
in regard to everything pertaining to sorcerers, has not once been into
that room. Let me pass the night in your room, my child; tomorrow, when
it's daylight, we'll go together and open that door, since the Chevalier
Chaudoreille wasn't polite enough to do so. I can pass the night in this
easy chair; I shall be much better here than upstairs, and I can tell
you some interesting stories before you go to sleep."
Blanche could not refuse Marguerite what she asked as a favor; the old
woman was relating her third story of sorcery, and the young girl, who
felt that her eyes were growing heavy, was about to go to bed, when the
sounds of a guitar were heard.
Blanche listened, and made a sign to Marguerite to be silent, and soon
recognized with delight the air which she was desirous of learning.
There is something sweeter, more seductive, in music thus heard in the
middle of the night; it finds its way more quickly to the heart.
Urbain's voice was flexible and melodious. Blanche, transported,
remained motionless, as though she feared by a single movement to lose a
sound, while Marguerite, gaping with astonishment, looked at the
engaging child without appearing greatly enchanted with the music. But
Marguerite was more than sixty years old, and music had not the same
effect upon her as upon Blanche; the sounds reached no farther than her
ears, while they vibrated deliciously in the depths of the heart of
sixteen.
Very soon, however, the noise which they heard in the street put an end
to Blanche's happiness; she recognized the barber's voice, and the
threats which he pronounced made her tremble, as well as Marguerite, who
cried immediately,--
"Go to bed! go to bed quickly, my child, and extinguish the light; if M.
Touquet sees that we are still awake, if he should find me in here--O
holy blessed Virgin! I shall be lost."
"But why is he so angry?" said Blanche. "Is singing in the streets in
the evenings forbidden? I was so pleased to hear that romance. What harm
was the young man doing?--for it was a young man who was singing--was it
not, dear nurse? It was not the voice of an old man, and, oh, how well
he sang! I have never heard such a pretty voice; it had a singular
effect on me; it made my heart beat with pleasure--didn't it yours,
Marguerite?"
Marguerite, whose heart was beating only with fear, contented herself
with repeating, "Go to bed quickly, put out the lamp, and above all
don't say tomorrow that you heard the singing; that would prove that you
were not yet asleep, and M. Touquet wishes everyone to go to sleep as
soon as they go to bed."
Since it was necessary to yield to the insistence of the old servant,
Blanche went to bed, but she did not go to sleep; the young singer's
voice still seemed to ring in her ears, and on hearing the least sound
in the street she imagined that it was the musician again. As to
Marguerite, after putting out the lamp, she extended herself in an
armchair near the fire and fell asleep, murmuring a prayer to drive away
evil spirits.
The morning after this night, so fertile with events, Blanche arose
early. She was pensive, preoccupied, still dreaming of the young
singer's voice; she felt new desires, and sighed as she glanced toward
the street. Marguerite ran to her work, saying to Blanche,--
"When monsieur is most busily engaged with his customers, we'll go up
together into my room; but, my child, above all don't say anything about
the music."
Blanche promised her, saying, "Why should he be angry because somebody
came to sing such a pretty air under our windows?"
The barber said nothing to the young girl about the adventure of the
night; he contented himself with observing Blanche, and the lovely
child, remembering the threats which she had overheard him utter against
the singer, had no desire to chat; she hastened to return to her
chamber, where Marguerite was not long in coming to rejoin her.
"Now is the time," said the old servant; "monsieur has a good many
people to shave. Come, my child; come up with me, and above all don't be
frightened; I have taken every precaution necessary to drive away the
goblins."
"Frightened!" said Blanche, because she saw that Marguerite was
trembling. "No, dear nurse, no; I assure you that I'm not thinking of
your secret door at all."
Thus saying, Blanche darted lightly up the stairs, while Marguerite
followed her more slowly, saying, "Happy age when one has no fear of
magicians, because one does not understand all their wickedness,--it is
true that she has a talisman."
When they reached the room, Blanche entered quickly, while the old woman
made a genuflexion and invoked her patron saint, after which she decided
also to go into her new room, throwing anxious glances about her.
Blanche had run into the alcove and already drawn the bed into the
middle of the room.
"Wait a moment; don't be so imprudent," cried Marguerite to her. "Is it
necessary to do things so quickly?"
"But, dear nurse, the sooner we open that door, the sooner you'll be
reassured."
"Reassured! that's what I wish. Have you your talisman, my darling?"
"Of course I have. Didn't you sew it yourself inside my corsets?"
"That's true."
"I don't see the door you were talking about."
"It is so well encased in the woodwork."
"Ah, here it is!"
"Wait a moment, mademoiselle, while I throw some holy water before it."
"But there's no key; how can we open it?"
"Well, we must try. I have several keys that I have picked up while
cleaning the house, perhaps one of those will open it."
Marguerite advanced tremblingly towards the end of the alcove. She drew
from her pocket half a dozen rusty keys of different sizes, and was
about to try one of them, but her hand shook and she could not find the
keyhole. Blanche seized one key and tried it unsuccessfully, then a
second; but at the third the young girl uttered a cry of joy, for the
key turned, and Marguerite crossed herself, murmuring,--
"O my God, the door is opening!"
In fact, the door yielded to Blanche's effort and opened, creaking and
groaning on its hinges, and the two women beheld a square closet; but,
as it received no light except from the little door that opened into it,
and as that door led into a dark alcove, one may conceive that there was
little daylight there. Blanche remained on the doorsill and Marguerite
recoiled a few steps, saying,--
"See now, my child; I was right in thinking that that door led
somewhere. Oh, this is as dark as a cave."
"Let us go in here, nurse."
"But not without a light, I hope. Wait; I will go and light my lamp. I
don't know that it is prudent of us to enter this closet."
"But, Marguerite, you see very well that there is nobody here."
"I can see nothing except darkness. Wait; take the lamp, and you go
first, my darling; you have your talisman; nothing will happen to you."
Blanche entered first; she seemed more curious than alarmed, while the
old woman could scarcely persuade herself to follow. The closet was six
feet square, and held nothing but two big empty chests placed on the
floor, which time had covered with dust and spiders' webs.
"Well now, my dear nurse," said Blanche, smiling, "where are the
sorcerers? I don't see anything frightful here."
"In fact," answered Marguerite, glancing all about her; "there's nothing
but four walls, no other door, and these two chests are empty. I'm sure
that no one has disturbed this place for half a century. No matter; I
swear to you that I shall not come back here again. I don't know why I
feel so uneasy here. How the floor creaks under our feet!"
"It's because no one has walked here for a long time; this house is
old."
"Come, my dear child, let us leave this closet; I shall shut the door
and double-lock it, and I shan't open it again while I stay in this
room."
Thus saying, Marguerite pushed Blanche before her, then closed the
little door and double-locked it, murmuring between her teeth,
"Alas! if some sorcerer should wish to open the door that lock would not
resist him; but every night I shall cross my shovel and tongs before
it."
This visit terminated, Blanche went down, humming to herself the romance
of the evening before, and Marguerite returned to her work.
The barber had ordered dinner early; and at six o'clock in the evening
he left the house, repeating to Marguerite:
"Redouble your watchfulness, do not allow any man to go near Blanche
without my permission, and inform me if you hear anyone singing in the
street."
The old woman promised to obey. Touquet wrapped his mantle about him
and left to execute the marquis' plan. As he was accustomed to conduct
similar intrigues, he knew where to procure everything that was
necessary; and at a quarter to eight he was on the Pont de la Tournelle,
while about a hundred feet from him two men awaited his orders near a
travelling-chaise drawn by two horses.
For a long time Chaudoreille had been walking on the bridge. Fearing to
miss the rendezvous, given for eight o'clock, he had arrived at six;
burying his head between his shoulders and hiding his chin under his
little mantle, he tried to give himself the air of a conspirator. With
his left hand on Rolande's handle and the other holding his mantle, he
walked sometimes slowly and sometimes with a precipitant step; and every
time that anyone passed him he did not fail to murmur, in such a manner
as to be heard,--
"How late she is in coming! What can keep her? I am burning! I am
bursting! I shall die with impatience."
As soon as he saw Touquet he ran to him and pulled the edge of his
mantle; then, looking to see if anybody was passing, he said to him in a
mysterious tone,--
"Here I am."
"Well, hang it, I see you!" said the barber, shrugging his shoulders;
"but I'd much rather see the little one."
"She hasn't appeared yet, I can answer for that. I've looked in every
woman's face."
"It's not eight o'clock; let us wait."
"Be easy; I'll go and put myself in ambuscade and examine all the
feminine visages."
"Take care they don't slap you; that would draw a crowd, and wouldn't
please me."
"Slap me! They're more likely to kiss me, I should say; but I'll make a
grimace, so as not to tempt them."
And Chaudoreille, drawing his hat down over his eyes, departed, taking
as long steps as his little legs would permit.
In about three minutes Chaudoreille returned to say to the barber,--
"There's a woman who has just come along by the Pont Marie, and who is
going to pass over this bridge."
"Indeed! Is she the one we are waiting for? You ought to know, if you've
peered into her face."
"No; I wasn't able to do that this time, because she was giving her arm
to a man, and he would have been frightened."
"If she's with a man it's not our young girl; one doesn't bring
witnesses to a lovers' meeting."
"That's correct," said Chaudoreille, and he started off again.
Some minutes later he returned to Touquet, crying,--
"Here's another one who is coming along this way; but this one is alone,
I am sure of that."
"Is it our beauty?"
"No, it is not she."
"You idiot! what did you come and tell me for?"
"So that you should not make a mistake; I thought it was my duty to
avert that."
"Chaudoreille, do me the pleasure of remaining still. I know very well
how to recognize her whom I came to meet without your help; although I
haven't yet seen her, I am certain that I shan't make a mistake; but,
hang it! if she doesn't come to this meeting, I shall send you to drink
the water under the bridge, to teach you to do your errands better."
Chaudoreille had not heard the barber's last words; he was already far
away, but he returned precipitately, looking scared.
"What is it now?" said Touquet.
"A patrol of the watch, which I can see coming, and which is going to
pass by us."
"Well, what of that? What has the watch to do with us? It's not
forbidden to walk on the bridge, and, even if they should see us abduct
a young girl I can answer for it they'll hardly trouble themselves about
that."
"Haven't we a rather suspicious look?"
"You make me ashamed of you."
"I shall pretend to be laughing, to allay their suspicions."
"Wait, perhaps this will give you more courage."
So saying the barber kicked Chaudoreille; but the latter received it
singing, contenting himself by rubbing the part attacked while executing
his trills, because at that moment the watch was passing them. When the
patrol had departed he breathed more freely, and cried,--
"They have taken us for simple troubadours."
"They should have taken you for a fool. A plague on all poltroons! They
are good for nothing except to spoil everything."
"I'm not going to get angry at a matter which doesn't concern me; but on
great occasions it seems to me that stratagem is often better than
valor."
The barber had begun to be impatient, when a young woman came on to the
bridge, walking slowly and glancing from time to time about her.
Chaudoreille had not perceived her, because he was in ambuscade at the
side of the Rue des Deux-Ponts.
Touquet approached the unknown, looked at her and saw that this really
was the young girl whom the marquis had depicted; for her part, the
damsel looked attentively at the barber, and seemed to wait for him to
address her in words.
"Are you not the Signora Julia?" said the barber in a bass voice,
approaching the young girl.
"And you the barber Touquet?" answered she, lifting to him her animated
black eyes.
The barber was surprised at hearing himself named by a person to whom he
believed himself unknown, but, after having considered the young girl
anew, he resumed,--
"Since you know me, you should also know that the Marquis de Villebelle
has sent me to you."
"The marquis is rather ungallant," answered Julia, "in not coming
himself to a first meeting."
"These great noblemen are not the masters of their time; besides, the
marquis has no desire to converse with you about his love on this
bridge."
"Preferring, no doubt, his little house of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine?"
"It seems to me, signora, that you are very well acquainted with
everything that concerns the marquis; after that I have nothing more to
tell you, except that a carriage is waiting a hundred feet from here."
"Very well, let us go."
"The deuce!" said the barber to himself, offering his arm to Julia, that
he might conduct her to the coach; "here is a young girl who doesn't
make a bit of fuss about allowing herself to be abducted. But I must
confess that there's something in her voice and manners very decided and
piquant, which astonishes as well as pleases."
They had reached the carriage when Chaudoreille's voice was heard; he
ran after the barber, crying,--
"There's a woman coming by the side of the Porte de la Tournelle; it is
our little one; I recognized her walk."
Saying these words, Chaudoreille perceived that the barber was
conducting a person to whom he had given his arm.
"How is this? What does this mean? Must I believe my eyes?" cried the
chevalier. "That's our beauty, and what the deuce way did she come? No
matter; we've got her; that's the essential thing. I will protect your
walk."
Chaudoreille then drew his sword, and, giving no ear to the barber, who
bade him depart, ran up to the carriage, crying to the two men who were
near,--
"My friends, here they are. Be adroit, be courageous. By jingo! she must
enter your vehicle, willingly or by force."
Somebody opened the door, and Chaudoreille was a little surprised at
seeing the young person trip first into the carriage. He was about to do
the same, and seat himself near her, when Touquet, taking him by the
breeches, dropped him on all-fours on the pavement, and, following Julia
into the carriage, said to the coachman,--
"Go on!"
"What the deuce! he's going to abduct her without me," said
Chaudoreille, picking himself up. "No, not by all the devils! It shall
not be said that I did not finish this adventure; besides, they've only
given me something on account, and I should like to be settled with
before the marquis gets tired of the little one."
Chaudoreille immediately darted after the carriage; accustomed to
running, he caught up with it, mounted behind, and allowed himself to be
drawn at a great gallop, taking care to hold tightly to the tassels,
which served to support him.