but I wish now to obtain proofs of his crime, and if, in fact, it is he
who has given Blanche to the marquis, he should tremble."
"That's right, crime must be punished," and Chaudoreille added to
himself, "If she would only hang him, I should not have to fear him any
longer."
"Is that really all that you know?" asked Julia.
"Oh, forgive me, signora; in the ardor of my zeal I forgot to tell you
that by the greatest chance, I met Blanche's lover tonight. The poor
devil was seated on a stone, and I was seated on the ground; I had been
despoiled by bandits, who, by the way, have robbed me of the fruits of
three years of economy and privations, which I was carrying to a
savings bank. The unfortunate love to talk of their troubles; we chatted
and he told me that he was searching for his future wife. I didn't wish
to tell him that I strongly suspected the Marquis de Villebelle of being
the abductor of his sweetheart, before seeing you; but I gave him a
rendezvous for this evening at nine o'clock."
"Very good, go to this rendezvous and bring this young man to me."
"You want me to bring him to you, signora?"
"Yes, bring him to my house; we will plan together, we will unite our
efforts; he that he may recover his mistress, and I that I may punish
the ungrateful man who has abandoned me."
"Indeed, that's very sensible, in acting together, you will hear more
and do more. I will go to the rendezvous then, and I will bring young
Urbain to you. Ah, by jingo! I haven't yet taken anything today and I am
afraid that I have no money about me."
"Wait, wait, take that," said Julia, "serve me faithfully and do not
spare that gold."
"For fidelity I'm a veritable spaniel," said Chaudoreille, putting the
purse in his belt. "I will go to an eating-house, I shall have time to
eat a little and take a glass of spirits; then I will go to the Porte
Montmartre and bring our lover to you immediately."
Chaudoreille hurriedly left; when he was in the street he counted the
money that was in the purse and said to himself,--
"Really, if the young lover gives me as much more I shall be in
possession of a nice capital again, without counting the small change;
for this Julia is a mine of gold waiting to be explored."
At nine o'clock he was in the neighborhood which he had indicated to
Urbain, but he did not find the young bachelor there; which surprised
him after the desire which the latter had evinced to see him again
promptly. Chaudoreille walked up and down, being careful to hold his
purse in his hand and to keep away from chair porters. However, ten
o'clock had struck and Urbain had not come. The chevalier struck his
foot impatiently, muttering,--
"Plague take all lovers! they're always half fools; this one may have
misunderstood me and is perhaps waiting for me at the Porte Saint
Honore, while I am waiting for him here. If I only knew his address;
this is a nuisance, by all the devils."
Poor Urbain had understood very well, and in going into his lodging at
daybreak his only desire had been to see the moment of his appointment
arrive. But who can foresee events. We are but sorry creatures, and yet
we form great plans for the future.
Today belongs to us;
Tomorrow, to nobody.
Today, even, does not always belong to us entirely. Hardly had he
reached his room when Urbain felt a shiver run through all his body;
attributing this indisposition to the fatigue of the night, he got into
bed, hoping that a few hours' rest would restore him to his usual
health, but nature had not so ordered; a high fever ensued, and delirium
took possession of the young man who, since the evening before, had
entirely yielded to despair. The young neighbor who had assisted him in
disguising himself, established herself at his bedside to watch; because
she had a friendly feeling for Urbain, and because women are always
ready to prove their friendship in pain as well as in pleasure.
This was the reason why Chaudoreille waited fruitlessly by the Porte
Montmartre. Finally, at half-past ten, deeming it unwise to wait longer,
he returned in a very ill-temper to the young Italian's house, who,
seeing him alone, exclaimed,--
"Why did you not bring him with you?"
"By jingo! because I didn't see him."
"What do you say?"
"I say, signora, that I have vainly watched for him since nine o'clock;
Urbain did not come to the place of meeting."
"How vexatious! and you haven't his address?"
"No, if I'd had it I should have gone to his house. What the deuce could
have prevented his coming?"
"Perhaps he has discovered Blanche's retreat; no matter, we shall find
this young man again. Chaudoreille, tomorrow at daybreak place yourself
in hiding near the barber's house; watch all his movements, if he goes
out follow him, and should the marquis go to see him, run and let me
know. For my part, I shall go and watch the Hotel de Villebelle; it is
more than probable that the marquis will repair there shortly. By
watching the movements of the marquis and the barber we shall discover
where Blanche is hidden, and then I shall know what I ought to do."
"Your orders shall all be executed," said Chaudoreille, bowing to Julia
as he left.
CHAPTER X
THE LITTLE CLOSET AGAIN
A week had elapsed during which Julia had spent almost her whole time in
loitering around the Marquis de Villebelle's hotel; she had not gained
much by this however, for all that she could be sure of was that
Villebelle was not there. Chaudoreille, for his part, had made no better
progress; he was very sure that the marquis had not been to the
barber's, and the latter kept very closely to his shop, rarely leaving
home except to go to his customers' residences. What most surprised
Chaudoreille was the fact that since he had watched he had not once seen
young Urbain go to the barber's house nor had he encountered him in his
prowling about the streets. He was ignorant of the fact of which the
reader is well aware, that the young bachelor was still kept in bed by
fever, and that the impatience and grief which had caused his illness
had greatly retarded his convalescence.
Julia whose proud and haughty spirit could not endure the situation in
which she found herself, keenly desired to wreak her vengeance on the
lover who had betrayed and abandoned her, and Villebelle being still
absent, she charged Chaudoreille to take her place in the neighborhood
of the hotel, and stationed herself in the Rue des Bourdonnais;
Chaudoreille accepted this change with great pleasure, delighted to
leave the neighborhood of the barber's house. The young woman did not
intend merely to watch Touquet's dwelling, she wished to introduce
herself there, to talk with Marguerite, to learn from the good old woman
all the details of Blanche's disappearance. Julia was courageous and
enterprising; she was Italian, and she wished to revenge herself; and
thus possessed three times as much as was necessary to compass her ends.
She was not afraid of Touquet, but she readily felt that it was only in
his absence that she could hope to speak to Marguerite, and she formed
her plan in accordance with the information which she had received in
the neighborhood, in regard to the old servant. Towards evening, Julia
saw the barber leave his dwelling. As soon as he had departed, she went
and knocked at the door of the house. Marguerite was disconsolate at
having no news of her dear Blanche, and what completed the despair of
the good old woman was that she could hear nothing of Urbain. When she
uttered the name of Blanche before her master he ordered her to be
silent in a severe tone, and it was only in solitude that she dared to
give way without constraint to her grief.
"Who is there?" asked Marguerite, following her custom.
"Someone who brings you news of Blanche," answered Julia.
On hearing her dear child's name, Marguerite unhesitatingly opened the
door; she had, besides, recognized a woman's voice, and grief had
rendered her less fearful than formerly. Julia entered; she was wrapped
in a black mantilla, larger than those in use among the Spaniards, and
wore a cap of the same hue, from which two black feathers fell
gracefully on her left shoulder. This costume, her decided step, and the
animation which sparkled in her black eyes, gave to the whole person of
the young Italian, a strangely fantastic distinction, but Marguerite did
not notice all this, and exclaimed on seeing her,--
"Have you brought me back my dear Blanche?"
"Not yet, but I shall make every effort that you may soon see her again.
In order to do this it is necessary that I should talk with you; take me
to your room."
"But my master has forbidden me to receive anybody," said Marguerite,
who began to regard Julia more attentively.
"Your master has gone out."
"He may come in at any moment."
"I know how to avoid him. You are very much afraid of him, are you not?"
"He's so strict."
"Come, my good Marguerite, don't let the fear you feel for the barber
make you forget your dear Blanche. Upon the conversation which we shall
have together, upon the information which you will give me, depends
perhaps the success of my enterprise."
"Oh, to see my darling girl again, I feel that I would dare everything!
Come, madame, follow me."
Marguerite went up to her room, followed by Julia, who closely
scrutinized everything that she saw. While the old woman placed her lamp
on the table and drew up some chairs, Julia took off her mantle; she
wore beneath it a red robe, and in a black belt which surrounded her
waist, she had stuck a little stiletto with an ebony handle.
This combination of red and black, which, following the old woman's
chronicles, had always been the costume favored by magicians, the weapon
which glittered in Julia's belt, all united to inspire Marguerite with a
secret terror. She looked uneasily at the young woman and murmured,
while offering her a seat,--
"May I know, madame, who you are, and where you have known my poor
Blanche?"
"Who I am," answered Julia, smiling bitterly, "has no connection with
the motive which brings me here. What does it matter, in fact, who I am,
provided that I am willing to help you find the one for whose loss you
are grieving, and that I have the power to do so."
"The power," repeated Marguerite, who began to be afraid of a private
conversation with one who frequented witches' sabbaths, "Oh, you have
the power?"
"As to your dear Blanche, I do not know her, and I have never even seen
her."
These words greatly increased Marguerite's terror, but Julia continued
without paying any attention to it,--
"Listen to me, good woman, my personal interest leads me to seek
Blanche. The one who abducted her was everything to me, I adored him, I
would have sacrificed my life for him, and the ungrateful man has
forgotten me. Do you understand now, the motive which has caused me to
act?"
"Oh, I breathe more freely," said Marguerite, "yes, madame, I
understand; this seigneur who came here is perhaps your husband. Alas!
that does not astonish me, men are truly most unaccountable creatures."
"Tell me all that you know, good Marguerite."
Marguerite told her of the marquis' visit and of all that he had said.
"He had never seen her before that day?"
"Never, I can certify to that."
"And you left the marquis with the barber?"
"The marquis? was he a marquis then? Well, I had my doubts about it."
"Please answer me."
"Yes, madame, my master ordered me to go, and I left him with this
marquis."
"And what followed?"
"I went to bed, madame, and I think that my dear Blanche did the same."
"That wretch Touquet was in league with the marquis. It was he who
delivered up to him that young girl."
"What do you say, madame? do you think that my master?--"
"Is a scoundrel!"
"Speak lower, I beg of you; if he should come in, if he should hear you.
But you are mistaken, madame, my master had consented to Blanche's
marriage to Urbain."
"The better to hide his plans."
"Poor Urbain, I never see him; no doubt he is still looking for our dear
little one."
"Where was Blanche's chamber?" said Julia, looking curiously around her.
"On the first floor looking on the street, madame. Since she came to
this house she had occupied no other."
"It was to this house that she came, then, with her father who was
murdered?"
"Yes, madame."
"Were you then in the barber's service?"
"No, madame, I didn't come here until three years after."
"Where does your master sleep?"
"Directly underneath this. This is why, if he should come in, I am
afraid that he would hear us speak."
"Have you always had this room?"
"No, madame, I formerly had the one above Blanche's, and I liked it much
better than this gloomy chamber, which has been unoccupied for a long
time, and which I believe was formerly the dwelling of a magician named
Odoard."
Julia arose and for some moments walked silently about the room. All of
a sudden she exclaimed,--
"Oh, if these walls could only speak!"
"In fact," said Marguerite shaking her head, "I believe that we should
learn some terrible things; a tier of tags, a sorcerer."
Julia seemed to be thinking deeply when they heard the street door shut.
"O my God! here is my master, I am lost," cried Marguerite; "he has
expressly forbidden me to receive anybody."
"Keep still, he shall not know that I am here. Does he sometimes come up
into your room?"
"No, but--good Saint Margaret--if he should discover--"
Julia put a finger on her mouth, as a sign for the old servant to be
silent. Presently the barber was heard calling Marguerite; who was
trembling so that she did not know how to stand.
"Tell him that you are going down," said Julia.
Marguerite approached the door, then, thinking she heard her master
coming upstairs,--
"Here he is--he'll see you," said she to Julia.
"You must hide me."
"Wait, I had forgotten it--quick--quick--in this closet."
Marguerite ran to her alcove, passed behind the bed, opened the little
door hidden by the tapestry, and Julia, as quick as lightning, entered
the closet. The old servant shut the door on her, took her lamp and
hastened to go downstairs. Her master was in the lower room.
"You were very slow in coming down," said the barber, looking at
Marguerite.
"Monsieur, at my age one cannot move quickly."
"Has anybody been here during my absence?"
"No, monsieur, nobody."
"Urbain, perhaps?"
"I assure you I haven't seen him."
"Chaudoreille?"
"No, nor him either."
The barber asked for what he needed and then made a sign to Marguerite
to retire.
"Is monsieur going to stay up late?" asked she.
"What does that matter to you?" asked Touquet looking sternly at her,
"I've already told you that I hate curious people as well as gossips."
"That's true. I'm going to bed, monsieur."
The old woman regained her room, closed the door carefully, and then
went to release Julia, who had remained without a light in the little
closet.
"Come, madame," said she, "come, you needn't stay in there now."
"A moment," said Julia, taking the lamp from Marguerite's hand, "I
should like to examine this place."
"Oh, mercy! you will find nothing curious there. We went into it once,
Blanche and I--"
"There is a door here," said Julia holding the light to the wall at the
back.
"A door? do you think so? We didn't see it, but then we only remained
for a moment and without a light."
Julia tried to open the door which led to the staircase, but she was not
successful.
"This door is closed from the other side," said she, "it must
communicate with some secret passage."
"What does it matter to you, madame? Come, I beg of you."
"It matters greatly to me. Oh, if I could acquire some proof to undo
him."
"Proof of what, madame?"
"It's impossible to force this door."
Julia lowered the lamp and examined the floor to see if she could
discover a trap door, while Marguerite remained at the entrance to the
alcove to listen if her master should come up.
"What is in this big chest?" said Julia.
"It is empty, as you see. I don't know what use it is here, I shall burn
it some day."
Julia stooped and lifted the chest, the better to examine it, then she
thought she saw some object on the floor. She carried her light there,
and found that it was an old portfolio of brown leather, which seemed to
have been hidden beneath the chest, and appeared to have been there for
some years, for the dust was thick around it. Julia uttered a joyful cry
and seized the portfolio.
"What is it?" said Marguerite, "what have you got there?"
"Something tells me that in this portfolio I shall find that for which I
am looking."
"This portfolio? O my God! where was it, then?"
"Silence--come, let us shut this door again."
Julia left the closet, shutting the door, and when she had replaced the
lamp on the table, hastened to examine the portfolio and the papers
which it held. Meanwhile, Marguerite, still uneasy, remained listening
near the door, but while doing so she watched Julia, whose features
expressed the most lively agitation. Suddenly a cruel joy flashed in
the young Italian's eyes, and she dropped on a seat near the table,
exclaiming,--
"I shall be avenged."
"But who can that portfolio belong to?" said Marguerite.
"To an unfortunate man whom your master murdered."
"Murdered! ah, madame, what are you saying?"
"Yes, everything proves it to me. This was the chamber in which he was
lodged, because the secret passage would assist the murderer in the
perpetration of his crime. The unfortunate man had, no doubt, visited
this closet, and, without divining the misfortune which awaited him, had
judged it prudent to hide under the chest his portfolio, which contains
the proofs of an important secret."
"Ah, you make me shudder, madame."
Julia continued to examine the papers. Joy, surprise, hope, vengeance,
were expressed in turn on her face.
"At last his fate is in my hands," exclaimed she, "perfidious man, to
have betrayed me; tremble lest I inflict upon you torments more cruel
than those you have made me suffer. And you, his odious accomplice, I
will see that the marquis knows the monster who has assisted him in his
amours."
Tremblingly Marguerite listened to Julia. The latter put back the
papers in the portfolio and carefully hid it in her bosom, then resuming
her mantle she prepared to depart.
"And Blanche," said the good old woman, "you have not told me more about
Blanche, madame."
"Reassure yourself," answered Julia in a solemn tone, "Blanche's
condition will now be changed, you will see her again. Good-by, my good
woman, keep the closest silence in regard to the portfolio; Blanche's
fate depends upon it."
"Fear nothing, madame."
"I'm going down without a light; Touquet should be in his room by now."
"If you should meet him?"
"I will not make the least noise."
"But it is necessary that I should go with you to open the door."
"You need not, I can open it myself."
"There is a secret in opening it. O my God, for a mere nothing I would
go with you from this house. All that you've said about my master makes
me shudder, and since my dear child is no longer here I find this
dwelling very gloomy."
"It's very necessary that you should remain here in order to give me, as
well as Urbain, information in regard to all that the barber does.
Before long, good Marguerite, you shall be happier, and reunited to your
dear Blanche."
"Oh, may all that you say prove true."
"Open your door; I don't hear the least sound on the staircase; let us
hasten."
The old woman groped her way down, Julia followed her; they arrived at
the foot of the stairs and were about to enter the alleyway when the
barber, coming brusquely from the corridor which led to the lower room,
met them, bearing a light in his hand. Marguerite uttered a cry of fear;
the barber quickly held the light against Julia's face.
"Well, do you recognize me?" she said to him in an imperious tone.
Touquet started with surprise, but forcing himself to restrain his
anger, he answered,--
"You, at my house, madame! and what did you come to seek here?"
"Some news of Blanche."
"Of Blanche?"
"Yes, that astonishes you! you did not suppose that I knew this young
girl? You believed that the Marquis de Villebelle could yield to his new
passion without my knowing the object of it, without my learning that
you were still the confidant of his amours."
Touquet's eyes blazed with fury as he said to Julia,--
"Jealousy has disturbed your reason, madame. If your lover has left you
is it to me that you should betake yourself? Why should you suppose that
the marquis is the abductor of a young girl whom he has never seen?"
"Your falsehoods are useless. I know a great deal more than you think.
If you should see the marquis before I do, advise him to hasten to
restore Blanche to Urbain. If by your perfidious counsels he should
become guilty of--he would be the first to punish you for your crime. As
for me, you will see me again; I also have a secret to reveal to you."
Thus speaking, Julia walked towards the door. The barber made a movement
as if to stop her, but she turned and her hand still grasped her
stiletto. Turning on Touquet a terrible look, she rapidly left his
house.
CHAPTER XI
THE STORM BREWS
Too greatly agitated by what she had learned to retire and compose
herself to rest, Julia several times during the night reperused the
papers contained in the portfolio which she had found at the barber's,
and she busied herself in forming new plans and meditating other
projects of vengeance. The sleep she had defied did not once greet her
eyelids, and dawn found her seated before a little table on which the
portfolio was lying examining again a letter which she had taken from
it.
At this moment, however, the bell rang thrice, and Julia hastened to
lock the papers into their receptacle, and presently Chaudoreille
entered her room.
"Well," was Julia's brusque greeting to the chevalier, "what have you
learned?"
"Thanks to my assiduity I am at last enabled to bring you some important
news," cried the little Gascon with a self-satisfied air. "For the past
forty-eight hours I have not budged from before the marquis' hotel,
minutely examining all who came or went."
"Well?"
"Well, indeed! The marquis has returned."
"He is here?"
"Yes, signora, at his hotel. I saw him arrive this morning in a
travelling carriage."
"Very well, I shall see him, I hope."
"What orders have you to give me now? Where is it necessary for me to
go? I am ready."
"You have not yet seen this young Urbain?"
"Alas, no, I'm of the opinion that the poor boy is dead from love; he
was as thin as a cuckoo. I don't see what could have prevented his
coming to our rendezvous."
"Return to the hotel. I tremble lest the marquis should leave without
our knowing it, and in order to recover Blanche it is important that I
should know the least step that Villebelle takes."
"That's very right. I'll return then to my post."
"Take this gold, but redouble your zeal; hasten; if you are tired, take
a chair."
"I, take a sedan chair? I would much rather crawl all the way there.
Don't disturb yourself, signora, my legs are always at my service."
Chaudoreille gone, Julia seated herself at her desk and prepared to
write, but suddenly, throwing the pen far from her, she rose,
exclaiming,--
"It's urgently necessary that I should see him, that I should speak to
him; I will go to his hotel."
She immediately rang for her maid, and began to make her toilet. Despite
the uneasiness she experienced, her mirror was often consulted, and she
neglected nothing that would add to her charm. This important task
accomplished, Julia sent for a sedan chair, and was carried to the
marquis' dwelling. On entering the immense court of this magnificent
hotel, the young Italian could hardly master her agitation.
"What does madame desire?" said the porter.
"To see the Marquis de Villebelle."
"Monseigneur returned from England only this morning, and as yet
receives nobody."
"It is absolutely necessary that I should speak to him."
"That is impossible."
"Go, at least, and tell him that the Signora Julia desires to see him
immediately."
The porter sent a lackey with this message, who soon returned, and said
to Julia, with an impertinent air,--
"Monseigneur cannot receive you, and begs you to leave the hotel."
Julia could not swallow this affront; she looked furiously at the valet
and abruptly left. Arrived at home she went to her desk and wrote the
following note to the marquis,--
You refuse to see me; it depends, however, upon me to render you
the most happy or most unhappy of men. I know that you are
Blanche's abductor. Respect that young girl. Hasten to listen to
me; I still wish to forgive you, but at some moments I listen to
nothing but my fury.
The letter written, she entrusted it to a faithful man, and awaited his
return with the most lively impatience. The messenger at length came and
brought an answer from the marquis. Julia seized it, and hastily read
the following,--
My little Julia: your sweet note made me laugh a good deal; I find
nothing more pleasing than those women who threaten us with their
fury. The only vengeance which a woman in your situation can take
upon a man is to deceive him,--and God knows whether you would use
this means; but it is necessary, in order that the charm may work
effectually, that it should be taken while he still loves you,
without which it fails of its object. Your reign is past, my dear
friend. You undoubtedly did not think to captivate the Marquis de
Villebelle for long, and I sent you a check on my banker to settle
the account. I do not know who could have told you that I had
abducted a certain Blanche; once more, what does it matter to you?
Am I not entitled to abduct ten women if that pleases me. Believe
me, you had better not disquiet yourself about my actions or give
yourself the further trouble of writing to me, for your letters
will be returned to you unopened. Good-by, hot-head, I wish you a
faithful lover, since you hold so much to fidelity.
Julia remained motionless, the letter was still in her hands, but she
did not see it; one thought alone occupied her, the thought of
vengeance, she seemed to give herself up to it with delight.
"You will have it, will you?" said she, "I will not hesitate longer."
However, the marquis was very much surprised that the young Italian
should know who had abducted Blanche, and as soon as night came he
wrapped himself in his cloak and went to the barber's house. Touquet
himself opened to the nobleman, for the events of the night before and
the fear which she had experienced seemed to have paralyzed old
Marguerite, who was unable to leave her room.
"You here, monseigneur?" said the barber, with surprise, "I imagined
that you were at your chateau, all taken up with your new love. Can it
be that Blanche is already forgotten?"
"Forgotten? Why, I love her more than ever. But I was forced to come to
Paris for some days, though I hope soon to return to Sarcus; each moment
that I pass away from Blanche seems to me a century. However, I have not
yet succeeded, and the remembrance of her Urbain--but let us come to the
motive which has brought me hither. How is it that Julia knows that I
have abducted Blanche? how could she have come to know this lovely child
whom you kept with so much care?"
"You find me as much surprised as yourself, monseigneur. This young
Italian had the audacity to introduce herself into my house yesterday
evening; she presented herself, so my old house-keeper tells me, as
bringing news of Blanche, but really she came to gather the details of
her flight."
"She came also to my hotel; I refused to see her; she wrote to me, she
threatened me. My fate is, said she, in her hands. You may imagine that
I only laughed at these threats as inspired by the jealousy and spite of
a woman. However, there's something very singular to me about it all."
"Wait, monseigneur, I believe I have a glimpse of light. Who informed
you yourself that there was a charming young girl in my house?"
"Hang it! you recall it to my recollection. It was an original, a little
man whom I found at my house in the Faubourg, hidden under a statue, and
who pretended to have helped in the abduction of Julia."
"Chaudoreille?"
"It's that same."
"I should have divined it; there's no doubt of it, it was he who told
Julia that you had abducted Blanche. If he should happen to know Urbain,
I should not be astonished if he has told him also."
"The little clown! I paid him well enough for everything."
"After having caused the abduction, he does his best to help someone to
find Blanche."
"Truly, that is not so very stupid; this is a boy who follows in your
footsteps; but if you meet him, I recommend him to you. Give him a good
beating."
"Be easy about that, monseigneur."
"For the rest, they may do what they please, they cannot snatch Blanche
from my hands. This young girl has more power than all of them put
together; one tear from her could, I feel, change all my resolutions.
When I see her beautiful eyes turned towards me with a supplicating
look, I am often about to sacrifice my love and to restore her to him
whom she regrets, in the hope of at least obtaining her friendship."
"O monseigneur, what folly! Why, Blanche is in your power, and you are
going--"
"No, no, she must belong to me; henceforth for me to separate from her
is impossible. Besides, has she not told me that she is disposed to love
me?"
"Come, monseigneur, pull yourself together. They will say that you yield
to the threats of this little Julia."
"My uncle is very ill, perhaps he will not last through the night. I
shall soon return to Sarcus, then I will not again leave Blanche, I will
listen to nothing but my love."
"With women, monseigneur, that causes everything to be forgiven."
Since the barber knew that the marquis suspected where he had obtained
his fortune, he believed that it was for his interest to lose sight of
Blanche. If Villebelle dreamed of reentering the path of honor, Touquet
could no longer feel easy as to himself.
The marquis regained his hotel. As he had foreseen, his uncle expired
during the night, leaving him immense wealth; which would lead one to
think that fortune does not show her preference to those who make good
use of her favors. But someone answers to that, that fortune does not
make happiness; it is, therefore, necessary to console the unhappy a
little.
A week sufficed the marquis to settle his affairs. At the end of that
time he prepared to return to Blanche, to whom he carried presents of
every kind, which were carefully packed in the travelling carriage.
Chaudoreille, who was continually on the watch about the hotel, saw
these preparations for departure, and ran to tell Julia.
"Enough," said the young Italian, "I have long been prepared for this,
and I have bought two good horses. You shall come with me."
"To the end of the world; I am devoted to you."
"I do not think that we shall have to go very far, we shall have nothing
to do but follow the marquis' carriage."
"I understand you."
"You can ride a horse?"
"Perfectly; however, I prefer donkeys, they don't trot so fast."
"Idiot! can one hope to follow a post-chaise on an ass? Make all your
preparations."
"They are made. I have my wardrobe upon me; as to my purse, yesterday
evening I had some cursed ill-luck while you relieved me at the hotel. I
didn't remain in the gambling-house longer than between five and ten
minutes, and I had well calculated my play; well, I can say with Francis
the First, I have lost everything but honor."
While Chaudoreille rattled on, Julia donned a large cloak, and took all
the money which remained to her. Then she sent the Gascon to his post,
while she went to get the horses. Towards seven o'clock in the evening
the marquis got into his carriage with Germain and started for the
Chateau de Sarcus, not for one moment thinking that Julia and
Chaudoreille were following his carriage from afar.
Leaving the travellers to make their way we will return to poor Urbain,
who, for a long time past, had languished on his bed, kept there by
illness and grief. He was heartbroken at being without strength to go in
search of his dear Blanche, and the good girl who gave him every care,
incessantly repeated to him,--
"The more you disquiet yourself, the longer you retard your cure."
Someone had told him that a great nobleman was Blanche's abductor, and
he was in despair at not having been able to keep his appointment with
this man, who would have told him his rival's name. But at last he felt
better and could go out, and the first use which he made of his
returning strength was to go to the barber's house. It was closed on
every side, the shutters had not been taken down from the shop, although
the hours of labor had long since begun; Urbain knocked, but no one
opened to him.
"It is useless for you to knock," said a neighbor to him, "the house is
empty and is for sale. You must inquire at the agent's, Rue des
Mauvaises-Paroles."
"And the barber?"
"The barber has left it, I tell you, there's nobody there."
"And Marguerite?"
"She died a week ago."
"Marguerite is dead--is it possible?"
"Why, what is there so extraordinary in that? The poor woman wasn't
young."
"Where can I find M. Touquet now?"
"I can't give you any information. That man was a bear, and he spoke to
nobody."
Urbain departed, discouraged at this new event. He grieved for the good
Marguerite, who had been the witness of his love and his happiness. He
had no idea of any way in which he could obtain information as to
Blanche's fate. He went to the Porte Montmartre and waited for three
hours, in the hope that he who had given him an appointment would come
there; but he waited in vain, and then turned despairingly towards his
lodging. The good-natured girl, to whom he made his lament, tried to
console him by saying,--
"If it's a nobleman who has abducted your mistress, you must go and ask
for her at all the great noblemen's houses."
Suddenly Urbain uttered a joyful exclamation, and a slight smile
animated his pale and sorrowful features.
"There still remains one hope," he said.
"And what is that, monsieur?"
"In the midst of all these events I had forgotten that adventure,
however, it may yet serve me."
"What adventure; monsieur?"
"Listen to me. You remember that in order to see Blanche I was for some
time obliged to disguise myself as a woman."
"Oh, yes, monsieur, I remember very well. Didn't I help to dress you and
to put in your pins?"
The girl smiled. Urbain paid no attention and continued,--
"One evening, I think it was the first time that I wore my disguise,
having been accosted by several men, I escaped them by traversing many
streets and it was very late when I found myself in the Grand
Pre-aux-Clercs. I had almost reached my dwelling when I was stopped by
four men, whom by their language I recognized as noblemen of the court.
I confessed to them that I was a man, hoping by that means to escape
them, but one of them wanted me to tell him the motive for my disguise.
I refused, he persisted; I got angry, he threatened; in short, one of
his companions lent me his sword and we fought, I wounded my adversary,
but very slightly, I think. 'My friend,' he said to me then, tendering
me his hand, 'you are a brave man and I am very pleased to have made
your acquaintance; if you should some day have need of a protector, come
to my hotel, ask for the Marquis de Villebelle and you shall find me
ready to oblige you.' Those are his exact words."
"The Marquis de Villebelle? Oh, I have sometimes heard my master speak
of him. They say that he is a great nobleman, very generous, but a very
wild fellow."
"No matter, he offered me his protection, and I shall have recourse to
it."
"Mercy, monsieur, you will do well, and who knows whether he's not
acquainted with the rascal who has stolen your darling."
"Yes, I hope that the marquis will help me to recover Blanche. These
great noblemen tell each other their adventures, their good luck; such a
brave man should have some pity on my torture. Why have I not already
spoken to him--but his hotel?"
"Oh, he's very well known, monsieur, and it will be very easy for you to
find that out."
On the morrow, as soon as it was day, Urbain went out to try and find
the one on whom he placed his last hopes. He obtained information as to
the marquis' hotel, and he soon arrived there.
"Monsieur le Marquis de Villebelle?" said he entering the court, and
timidly addressing the porter.
"This is his hotel, but monsieur le marquis is not in Paris."
"Is not in Paris?" exclaimed Urbain, his heart contracting.
"No, he is travelling."
"Travelling? And will he soon be back?"
"He'll come back when he pleases. Do you think monseigneur needs your
permission in order to go travelling?"
"That was not what I wished to say, monsieur, but I am in such haste to
see monsieur le marquis, to speak to him."
"You can see him when he comes back, whenever monseigneur is willing to
receive you."
The insolent porter returned to his lodge, took his glass and his fork,
and resumed a copious breakfast, without paying any further attention to
the young student, who remained in the court, heaving big sighs, as he
said,--
"He's not in Paris; how unfortunate I am."
Ten minutes later Urbain softly approached the porter's lodge, and said
to him in a supplicating tone,--
"Monsieur, can you not tell me where the marquis has gone?"
"What? Are you still there?" answered the porter without turning his
head. "Can't you leave me to eat my breakfast in peace? I tell you that
monseigneur is travelling. There are some people who are so stubborn;
they all say the same thing, 'I wish to see monseigneur,' and they
bother my head from morning till night."
Urbain would not be repulsed; he knew the customs of Paris, and took out
his purse, in which he had put several crowns, and made it chink in his
hand. Then the porter deigned to turn towards him, and said to him, a
little more politely,--
"I'm truly sorry, but monseigneur is really absent, and between
ourselves, I believe he will be so for a long time."
"O heavens!" said Urbain, "and he is my only hope. Oh, monsieur, if you
know where monseigneur is, I entreat you to give me his address."
The young man held out his purse and advanced.
"Come in for a moment," said the porter opening the little door of his
lodge; "yes, of course, I know where monseigneur is. It's very necessary
that we should know that, in order that we may send him any important
letters that may be addressed to him; but it's a secret. However, if
you'll promise to be discreet, and to let nobody know that it was I who
told you,--"
"I swear to you not to do so."
"Then I'll tell you. Monsieur le marquis is at his Chateau de Sarcus,
situated in the neighborhood of Grandvilliers. Take the road to Beauvais
and--"
Urbain did not wait to hear more; he threw his purse on the porter's
table, hastily left the hotel, ran to his lodging, took all the money he
had left, and the same day set out to seek the marquis at his chateau.
CHAPTER XII
THE RETURN TO THE CHATEAU
During the absence of the marquis from the Chateau de Sarcus the unhappy
Blanche had passed some sad and monotonous days; she had grown used to
seeing and talking with him, and hoped to induce him to allow her to
rejoin Urbain; so the day after Villebelle's departure, astonished at
not receiving his accustomed visit, she believed that he was disposed to
take her back to Paris; but in the evening, not meeting him in the park
as usual, Blanche, on her return to her room, asked the maid for some
news of her host.
"Monseigneur has gone, he went away yesterday," answered the country
girl.
"Gone without me!" exclaimed Blanche, raising to heaven her beautiful
eyes, filled with tears and despair; "can it be possible that he wishes
to keep me always a prisoner in this chateau, then?"
"Don't grieve, mademoiselle," said the good-natured girl, "monseigneur
said that he would not be long absent."
Blanche made no answer, but returned to her room, and there passed her
days in grief and discouragement. She regretted the absence of the
marquis, for the sweet child flattered herself that he would yet yield
to her prayers. She had several times seen that her tears caused him
emotion, and she still hoped that he would reunite her to Urbain; but
left alone she no longer hoped, and the days rolled slowly by for the
young prisoner. However, the return of springtime embellished the earth;
the trees regained their foliage and the grass its verdure, the meadows
were dotted with flowers, and the birds came again to the groves to sing
the season of love. But, indifferent to the scenes which spread before
her eyes, Blanche looked without pleasure on this charming perspective,
with which at any other time she would have been delighted. The sorrow
with which her heart was filled, threw a gloomy veil over all the
objects which surrounded her.
Sometimes while walking in the park, Blanche considered the idea of
escaping; but in what direction could she take her flight? Besides, the
park was surrounded with very high walls, and the doors which led to the
country were always scrupulously closed. The young girl was ignorant of
the fact that in the absence of the marquis, two men servants watched
her every step.
A deep melancholy seized her, the servant, Marie, tried in vain to
distract her; sighs and tears were the only response which she obtained.
Ten days had passed when Marie came running one morning to tell Blanche
her master had arrived.
This news seemed to reanimate the young prisoner, and she waited
impatiently for the marquis to come and speak to her. Villebelle, who
ardently desired to see his captive, did not tarry in coming to her, and
was greatly struck by the changes which had been wrought in her whole
person.
"You have forgotten me, then, in this chateau?" said Blanche sighing.
"I forgotten you?"
"Why did you not take me to Paris, then? Are you going to keep me here
long?"
"At least, Blanche, I will not leave you again."
"Let Urbain come to us, and I will not ask you to let me go away again."
The marquis knit his brows and tried to distract Blanche by offering her
several pretty trifles which he had brought from Paris; but these
presents were no better received than the first, and did not even evoke
a smile from the young girl. In the evening Blanche and the marquis
again walked in the park. Villebelle, more in love than ever, recalled
the barber's counsels and promised himself the conquest of his captive,
but when he was near Blanche, he felt all his resolutions vanish. One
look from the lovely child put a curb on his desire, though it
penetrated to the depth of his heart, and Villebelle said to himself,--
"By what magic does this young girl inspire me with a respect that is
stronger than my love?"
Blanche, rendered confiding by her innocence, was seated at the entrance
of a grotto which was surrounded by thick shrubbery. The marquis placed
himself beside her. For a long time he remained silent, tenderly
watching her. Then he took Blanche in his arms and was about to cull a
kiss from her charming mouth, when she turned her supplicating eyes
towards him, saying,--
"In pity, monseigneur, let me go."
Without knowing why he did so, he allowed the lovely girl to escape from
his arms. He remained alone in the grotto; Blanche, experiencing a novel
fear of the marquis, had fled, and the latter, cursing his weakness,
returned to the chateau, vowing that he would no longer tremble before a
child.
Julia and her companion had arrived at Sarcus and had seen the marquis
enter the chateau. Chaudoreille had only fallen three times on the way,
but he asserted that that was because his horse had been frightened.
However, he complained greatly of fatigue, to which his companion
appeared insensible, as she scrutinized the chateau which the marquis
had entered, and its high towers illuminated by the sun.
"This is where he went, then," said the young Amazon, guiding her horse
close against the walls.
"Yes, signora, there's not the least doubt that he went there, since we
have seen him go in," answered Chaudoreille, who had alighted from his
horse, where he was not comfortable.
"That's the Chateau de Sarcus, according to what a peasant told me."
"It is, in faith, a very fine castle. My ancestors had ten or a dozen
like that; but they played for one every evening at piquet, and you know
that luck is not always favorable. But ugh! how tired I am, this palfrey
trotted so hard."
"And within these walls Blanche is shut up."
"That's very probable. By jingo! but we came at a good pace, and at the
present time I would defy the best jockey in France."
"How shall we know on which side this young girl is?"
"I think it's first necessary to know where we can get some breakfast;
you must be terribly fatigued, signora."
"I don't feel in the least tired, the hope of vengeance has doubled my
strength."
"I have had nothing to double mine; I'm knocked up, exhausted, and I'm
as hungry as a hunter."
Julia alighted from her horse and led the animal to Chaudoreille.
"Mount him," she said, "and take the other by the bridle. Go to the
village, which you see over there, find an inn, and there wait for me. I
wish to examine the chateau."
"Enough, I'll go and make them get breakfast ready. Oh, under what
title shall we present ourselves? I have been thinking that it would be
better to preserve our incognito in this part of the country."
"Say what you like."
"I shall say that we are Moors from Spain, that we have come from
Granada to give lessons in castanets. That will prevent all suspicion,
and our rather dark skins will foster the supposition."
Julia did not listen further to Chaudoreille and walked towards the
chateau, while the chevalier, not caring to remount, took both horses by
their bridles and went hobbling along to the village.
Chaudoreille inquired for the best inn. There was only one in the
village and he reached it, leading his two horses after him. The master
of the inn came to meet him, and Chaudoreille, trying to pull himself
up, said to him,--
"I am Malek-al-Chiras of Granada, professor of castanets in the two
Spains, and come to France with my sister, Salamalech, to dance the
bolero before Cardinal Richelieu. We shall perhaps stay for some time in
this village, but we wish to preserve the strictest incognito. Do you
understand?"
"I don't understand very well," said the innkeeper, looking stupidly at
him.
"In that case, prepare at once an omelette with bacon, give me a room,
and take care of my horses, which are Arabian."
The innkeeper understood this better, and led his guest to a chamber on
the first floor, to which Chaudoreille mounted with pain, so greatly had
his long ride on horseback discommoded him.
After resting for some hours he went to the table, and had been there
for a long time when Julia came in search of him.
"I awaited you with impatience," said Chaudoreille, while dismembering
his third pigeon.
"Well, what have you learned?"
"My faith, I've learned that we shall not have fish for dinner."
"Idiot! I was speaking to you of the marquis."
"It seems to me that as I left you at the chateau, you should know more
than me."
"I have been all around it, but I did not see anybody. You should have
asked these peasants what they know of the chateau."
"They look as stupid as geese. How should these people know anything? By
the way, you are my sister and you are called Salamalech."
"Chaudoreille, do you think that I brought you here to listen to your
foolishness? Make haste and rest yourself and we will visit the
neighborhood of the chateau; we will see if there is any way of
introducing ourselves into the park."
"Begging your pardon, it will be very difficult for me to stir today. I
am nailed before this table."
Finding it would be impossible to get her companion on his feet again,
Julia left the inn, after taking a little nourishment, and again went to
prowl around the walls of the chateau.
"The devil's in that woman," said Chaudoreille to himself as he got into
bed, "she would be worthy to carry Rolande at her side." "My good host,
put Rolande there, under my bolster. That's it, so that at the first
alarm I can get him. Now see that you shut my door, and when my sister
Salamalech returns tell her that I beg of her not to waken me before
tomorrow at midday."
While Chaudoreille slept, Julia made the tour of the park and noticed a
place where the wall was broken, and where it was possible to introduce
one's self into the interior of the garden; but not wishing yet to risk
it, she returned to her inn and tried to obtain some information about
the inhabitants of the chateau. The peasants knew but one thing, and
that was, that for the present, their lord was at Sarcus.
"But did not somebody bring a young girl to the chateau, some days ago?"
asked Julia.
"When monseigneur is here the house is full of ladies and gentlemen,"
answered the host; who believed that the brother and sister had come to
play their castanets before the marquis.
Julia decided to take a little rest, but the next day at dawn she
repaired to Chaudoreille's room.
"Monsieur, your brother, is still sleeping," said the host whom she
met, "and M. Malek-Al-de Granada has forbidden that anyone should wake
him before noon."
Julia, without listening to the host, went into the chevalier's room. He
was sleeping soundly, and she pulled him rudely by the ear.
"Did I bring you here with me," said she, "that you might sleep?"
"Oh, by jingo! how cruel you are, I was in my first slumber."
"Come, get up!"
"Get up? get up? I respect decency too much to rise before you."
"Get up, I tell you."
"Well, since you will have it so," and Chaudoreille put his two little
thin legs out of bed, saying, "It appears that I cannot make her run
away."
"You will go to the chateau, you will enter the first court, under the
pretext of admiring the architecture, and you will chat with the
porter."
"And if I am recognized?"
"By whom?"
"By monseigneur."
"Do you think he amuses himself by walking in the court? He is with his
young captive."
"That is presumable."
"We will meet here presently and you will tell me all that you shall
have learned. For my part, I am going to find my way into the park."
After a good breakfast, Chaudoreille started, enveloping himself in a
mantle or cloak which Julia had given him, and which was so much too
large for him that part of it dragged on the ground; but he admired
himself very much in it, and felt himself six inches taller.
As he drew near the chateau, his first care was to look and see if there
were a sentinel upon the wall, but perceiving nothing that seemed to
indicate that the castle was upon a war footing he decided to advance.
On arriving before the principal gate he walked for an hour, far and
wide, before knowing if he should go into the chateau or not. The old
porter, smoking his pipe before his door, perceived this little figure,
trailing a cloak, and coming and going for a long while in the same
circle. Irritated by this conduct, the porter left the chateau and
walked towards Chaudoreille, to ask him what he did there. The latter,
seeing a man walk with long steps towards him, imagined that the porter
suspected him and was about to arrest him. Immediately he began to run
on the sward, but presently his feet became entangled in the train of
his cloak and he rolled on the grass. The porter, hearing someone
calling in the chateau, did not continue his walk, and on rising
Chaudoreille saw nobody. He then hastened to take the way to the
village.
"This is enough of it for today," said he, "another time I shall not be
so imprudent, I'll hide in the thickets which are within cannon shot of
the castle," and he returned to his inn where, while awaiting dinner, he
played at little quoits with his host, and insisted on teaching madame,
his wife, to dance the bolero. Julia, hearing the noise, found
Chaudoreille in the courtyard of the inn, in the midst of the fowls and
manure, making many bows to a little woman of forty years, and beating
time with Rolande, saying,--
"In Granada nobody dances except sword in hand. Ah, here is my sister
Salamalech, she can make curtseys without touching her heels."
Julia pushed the dancing master into her room, saying to him,--
"What are you doing in that courtyard?"
"What the deuce! I did it the better to preserve our incognito, for
prudence' sake."
"What have you learned this morning?"
"Many things. I believe there is a garrison at the chateau. I saw an
armed man come out. As to little Blanche, I have a suspicion that they
are keeping her in a subterranean dungeon."
"You're a fool. I've spoken to a young girl who lives at the chateau; I
made her gossip. Blanche is in one of the towers which overlook the
lake."
"Then the soldier whom I questioned must have lied to me. I had him,
however, with my sword at his throat."
"Nobody has arrived at the chateau?"
"Oh, nobody, I'm sure of that, I have not lost sight of it."
"This evening I shall introduce myself into the park and I hope--"
"I hope that I'm not to introduce myself there."
"No, you are to watch outside."
"Ah, I'm good at watching outside; besides, I have the eyes of a cat, I
can see clearly at night."
According to his custom the marquis went to visit Blanche on the day
after the scene in the grotto, but she experienced a new dread at sight
of him. She recalled how passionately he had folded her in his arms, and
despite her innocence she felt a degree of fear as she saw him approach
and seat himself at her side. The marquis knew women too well not to
perceive the change in Blanche's manner. He tried to read the young
girl's eyes, he wished to see again the sweet expression which so
charmed him, but Blanche kept her eyes downcast, she trembled, and
feared to meet those of the marquis. After a shorter visit than usual
Villebelle left Blanche, and went to reflect on the means which he
should employ to overcome her resistance. He awaited the evening
impatiently, he flattered himself that he should be more fortunate in
the gardens in making his peace with his young prisoner; but Blanche
listened to a secret voice which told her she was not safe in the park
with the marquis, and she did not intend to go there.
It had long been night, and vainly had Villebelle walked up and down the
pathways where the young girl walked every evening. He did not meet her.
"She fears me," said he, "however, she does not hate me, she herself has
told me so."
On passing before the grotto where they had sat the evening before, the
marquis believed that he saw a shadow flit before him. Persuaded that it
was Blanche, he ran to seize her. The person whom he pursued paused,
turned, and, by the light of the moon, the marquis recognized Julia.
"You in this neighborhood, and in my park?" said Villebelle, with the
greatest astonishment.
"Yes, monsieur le marquis," said Julia with a bitter smile, "does that
astonish you? Monsieur de Villebelle should, however, understand all the
pleasure which I experience in being near him."
"Once more, what are you doing here?"
"There was a time, monsieur le marquis, when my presence caused you no
weariness, when you told me with the most tender vows that you would
love me forever. Remember how often it was necessary to repeat those
vows in order to make me yours."
The marquis made a gesture of impatience and exclaimed,--
"And is it to tell me this that you introduced yourself at night into my
chateau?"
"No," said Julia, giving way to all her fury. "Another motive led me to
this place; it was the hope of vengeance. You have laughed at my love,
at my grief; I will revel in your sufferings, you shall shed tears of
blood when it will be too late."
"This is too much; your threats weary and make me despise you. If you
have the power to fulfil them, why are you waiting for your revenge?"
"I am awaiting the presence of an indispensable witness, your worthy
confidant, the barber Touquet."
Saying these words Julia glided among the trees, and disappeared before
the marquis could stop her. Greatly surprised at this singular meeting,
he was careful on reentering the chateau to warn Germain; and ordered
him to redouble his watchfulness in order that no one might gain access
to Blanche.
CHAPTER XIII
THE MARQUIS VISITS BLANCHE AT NIGHT
The marquis returned in great agitation to his apartments. He was
greatly incensed, but not at all intimidated by Julia's threats, which
he attributed to spite and her jealousy. However, despite his lack of
consideration for her he had cast off, there was something in the voice
of the young Italian which carried conviction, and her eyes appeared to
be animated by a barbaric joy when she had fixed them on those of the
marquis, and warned him to beware.
Vexed at not having forced Julia to explain herself, Villebelle called
his valet, and ordered him to search the park with some of his people,
and if he met a woman to bring her immediately to the chateau. Germain,
the gardener, and three men servants hastened to investigate the park
and gardens, but they returned to the chateau without meeting anybody,
and the marquis passed the night in reflecting upon the event. The
presence of Julia had disturbed his peace; he feared that she would come
and bring Blanche news of her lover. At daybreak he wrote to the barber
and ordered him to come to the chateau.
Marguerite was dead; the old servant could not bear the loss of Blanche,
and the fury of her master after Julia's visit. The barber, who had for
a long time desired to sell his house, was about to go to a lawyer, when
a letter was brought to him by a messenger from the marquis.
"He wishes that I should go to Sarcus," said Touquet to himself, after
reading the note; "the marquis still has need of me. He has at times, an
inclination for virtue which causes me uneasiness, but he pays
generously; besides I can refuse him nothing. He has divined a part of
my conduct, and if some day he should desire to ruin me as an expiation
for all his own follies--for it is often in this manner that great folks
repair their errors--but no, the marquis will commit follies as long as
he lives; it is above all necessary that he should triumph over
Blanche's virtue, for that would insure my safety."
Touquet made the preparations for his departure, and on the next day but
one he arrived at the chateau, and presented himself to the marquis, who
was awaiting him in his apartment.
"You see, monseigneur, with what haste I have obeyed your orders," said
the barber, bowing.
"That is well; your presence here may be very useful to me. I feel that
I need someone who will make me ashamed of my weakness. Would you
believe that I am no further advanced in regard to Blanche?"
"I shouldn't believe it unless you told me so, monseigneur."
"It is certain that I should never have dreamed of it myself. She has
been for three weeks at the chateau, and I have hardly dared to kiss her
hand. Some days ago we were in the park, and I tried to advance a little
further, but she supplicated me to let her go in so touching a voice, it
affects me in a manner which I cannot account for, but I was nearly
heartbroken at having caused her pain; since that time she has not left
her room. When near me, she is fearful, embarrassed, and always in
tears."
"All that will end, when you have made her yours, monseigneur."
"Have you seen her lover? This Urbain of whom she talks incessantly, and
whom she calls at every moment of the day."
"No, monseigneur, and I presume that young Urbain, more reasonable than
Blanche, has already forgotten that little love affair."
"The poor little thing is always thinking of him. If I could persuade
her that he no longer loves her,--she would not, however, believe me.
But in speaking to you of Blanche I forget the motive which induced me
to send for you. You can never divine whom I met the day before
yesterday, in the evening, in my park--Julia."
"Julia!" cried the barber, starting with surprise.
"Yes, she had entered these premises. But how could she have discovered
that I was here?"
"I can't imagine, monseigneur."
"She had the audacity to threaten me, jealousy and rage shone in her
eyes; she also spoke to me of you. I didn't understand all she was
saying to me, and she disappeared when I was about to force her to
explain further."
"Monseigneur, this young girl has some evil design."
"I think that, also. However, she has not reappeared since, and every
evening my people make a general search in the park."
"No matter, Julia will do her utmost to take Blanche away from you."
"How do you think she will do it? You must visit the neighborhood, and
if you discover Julia, tell her from me that I forbid her to present
herself on these premises. If she still dares to come I can easily
obtain a lettre-de-cachet, which will relieve me from her
importunities."
"That will be the best thing you can do, monseigneur. Tomorrow I'll
begin my researches."
"During the time which you are at the chateau, avoid passing through the
park by the side of the lake, for you might be seen by Blanche, and I
don't wish that she shall know you are here; I don't think that the
sight of you would give her pleasure, and I desire to keep her from all
that might add to her grief."
"I've never seen monseigneur so much in love."
"No, never has any woman inspired me with that which I feel for
Blanche."
"I'm going to get some rest. Tomorrow at daybreak I shall take my way; I
will search the neighborhood, I will visit the smallest cottages; Julia
cannot evade my search, and as soon as I know where she is, I answer for
it, monseigneur, that you will not see her again."
The barber was about to go as he said these words, but there was an
expression on his face which did not escape the marquis. Villebelle ran
to him and stopped him, saying in a severe tone,--
"Touquet, you have misunderstood me. Remember that I do not wish that
any harm should come to Julia. That young girl is passionate,
headstrong, but her love excuses it. One should always forgive the
faults of which one is the first cause. I should, perhaps, have further
considered her sensibility; I have treated her with too much disdain. If
she will consent to become reasonable, promise her all that she shall
ask. Scatter gold, that she may be happy. In addition to that, I wish to
speak to her myself, that she may explain to me what she wished to tell
in her letter."
"In that case, monseigneur, as soon as I have discovered her retreat, I
will hasten to let you know it."
The barber bowed low to the marquis and left the apartment.
"That man is a deep scoundrel," said Villebelle, as he watched Touquet
depart. "For a long time I thought he was only a schemer and a thief;
why should he still be necessary to me? But I can't charge Germain to
speak to Julia. Julia! I believed for a little while that I loved her.
Ah, what a difference there is between that passionate, vindictive woman
and the sweet and charming Blanche. Why should Julia love me so
passionately, and yet I cannot kindle in the breast of that timid child
a spark of the fire which consumes me?"
While the marquis was dreaming of Blanche, who, sad and solitary in her
lonely room, passed her days in praying to Heaven and weeping for her
lover, Julia, after her nocturnal meeting with Villebelle, sought to
gain speech with the young prisoner. The watchfulness of the marquis'
people did not prevent her from gliding through the park; but though she
drew near the lake it was impossible to reach the tower; they had taken
away all the boats for fear that one of them should serve as a means of
approaching Blanche's windows. As for Chaudoreille, being ordered to
watch all who entered or left the chateau, he hid himself in a thick
bush, which was about two cannon shots from the entrance to the castle;
and there, having Rolande bare at one side by way of precaution, and a
bottle of wine at the other, he passed his day with a pack of cards,
studying a new manner of turning the king and of re-turning the aces,
hiding entirely under his immense mantle at the slightest sound.
The day after his arrival at the chateau, the barber commenced his
search. Not imagining for a moment that Julia would conceal herself at
Sarcus, he visited Damerancourt, and Grandvilliers, and returned towards
the evening to Sarcus. As he approached the village, he perceived in
front of him a little man enveloped in a brown cloak, under which it was
difficult to distinguish his body, but a long sword, whose handle
protruded from one side of his cloak, betrayed who carried it.
"It's Chaudoreille," said the barber to himself, and he hastened that he
might catch up with him. The little man, when he heard someone behind
him, was seized with terror, and also tried to walk faster, but the
unfortunate cloak entangled his legs at every step, and soon he felt
himself pulled by the handle of his sword. He turned and was petrified
at seeing the barber Touquet.
"Where are you going, Chevalier Chaudoreille?" said the barber, in a
mocking tone.
"Where am I going? By jingo! How are you, my good friend?"
"You clown," said the barber, "I've heard some fine things about you."
"One mustn't believe all that one hears, my dear Touquet."
"And don't you think I ought to believe monsieur le marquis? It was you
who told him about Blanche, despite your vows."
"You know very well that between ourselves an oath is not binding, and
what have you to complain of? I was the means of your obtaining a large
sum of money."
"And do you serve Julia now?"
"Yes, I serve Julia. I will serve you, if you wish, I will serve
anybody; I have always been very obliging."
"Where is Julia?"
"She wishes to preserve her incognito."
"Answer, wretch, no more lies."
"Ow! leave go of my ear, you are hurting me. We are lodging in this
village at the inn; there is only one here. Julia passes as my sister,
and I for a Moor of Granada, professor of castanets."
"What are Julia's plans?"
"The devil carry me away if I have any idea of them. She passes her days
and a part of her nights in prowling about the chateau, like a fox
watching a chicken. Between ourselves I believe she's a little cracked."
"And with what design did she bring you here?"
"Simply to keep her company. She likes my society very much, I sing
villanelles to her."
"Listen to me, I ought to break your back to punish you for what you've
done."
"O my dear Touquet, that was a joke."
"Get along with you, I despise you too much to strike you."
"That's very civil on your part."
"Have you told me the truth?"
"If you doubt it, come with me to the inn. Julia will not be long before
she comes in."
"No, I can't go there this evening; but I forbid you to say a word to
her about our meeting."
"As soon as you forbid me, it's as if you had cut out my tongue."
"If I don't find Julia tomorrow in the place you have told me of,
monsieur le marquis himself will see that you are punished, and this
time there will be no quarter given you."
"You may be sure I'll obey you."
"Good-by, I'm going back to the chateau."
"And I to the village--where I shall not await your visit," said
Chaudoreille, in a low tone, gathering his cloak up under his arm that
he might walk more quickly.
Touquet returned to the chateau and sought the marquis. It was night,
and Villebelle was seated before a table as sumptuously furnished as was
possible at the chateau; but the marquis, presuming that he should make
a long sojourn there, had had his cellars replenished, and if the fare
was not so delicate as in Paris, the wines were no less exquisite. The
marquis appeared gayer than usual. He had already emptied several
bottles, and near him were several letters which he read while supping.
"What news?" said he, on perceiving the barber.
"My researches have not proved vain, monseigneur. Julia is at the
village; she is living at the inn under an assumed name. I have seen
Chaudoreille, who is now her confidant."
"Ah, the little Gascon. Have you thrashed him soundly?"
"Not yet, monseigneur, I wished first to get your orders, and I have not
seen Julia."
"You have done well, I will speak to her myself. Tomorrow we will go
together to the village; I shall make the heedless girl hear reason, and
we shall know this grand secret which she pretends she has to tell me."
"A secret?"
"Yes, and it's necessary, she says, that you should be present when she
tells it."
"Me? monseigneur."
"Tomorrow she shall be satisfied. Do you see those letters? All of those
were sent to me from Paris. They are from the great ladies who regret
me; there are reproaches, promises, vows, and a little of everything.
Here, throw all that in the fire."
"What, monsieur le marquis, even those which are unopened?"
"Yes, of course; do they not all say the same thing? Ah, a single smile
from Blanche is worth all the sweet nothings of these ladies. Why is she
not here, near me?"
"If monseigneur desires it--"
"That she may come with her eyes full of tears? No."
The marquis filled a large glass with wine, which he drank at a draught,
when he exclaimed,--
"I'm commencing, however, to fear that I sigh in vain; Blanche is near
me, in my chateau, but I dare not--but to employ violence, I cannot
resort to that."
"Without employing violence, monseigneur, are there not a thousand ways?
She sleeps undefended--and you have double keys to all the rooms."
"What perfidy!"
"Not greater, monseigneur, than taking her in a carriage, telling her
that she was going to join Urbain."
"Be silent, you are a monster; and to listen to your horrible counsels
renders me more criminal than yourself."
"It was not I, monseigneur, who counselled you to fall in love with
Blanche, but since she is in your power, it seems to me that your
scruples are a little tardy."
The marquis remained silent for some moments; then he resumed,--
"This morning she spoke to me less coldly; I remained several hours
with her; she seemed to me less timid. I took her hand, and she left it
for a long time in mine."
"What more do you wish for, monseigneur? In secret Blanche loves you;
but do you think that so timid a young girl will confess what is passing
in her heart? It is not until after she has yielded that she banishes
all constraint."
"Blanche loves me, say you? Ah, if it were true. But it is late; go and
take some rest. Tomorrow we will go and see Julia."
Touquet bowed to the marquis, and looked stealthily and scrutinizingly
at him; then he took a candle, and departed in silence. For a long while
the marquis remained at the table, buried in thought, or drinking glass
after glass of wine. He seemed to wish to drown in the liquor the
thoughts which pursued him. Finally he rang for Germain, and said to him
in a gloomy voice,--
"Who has the double keys to the chateau?"
"The porter should have them, monseigneur."
"Bid him come here, I wish to speak to him."
The old porter hastened to obey his master's orders.
"Are there some double keys for these apartments?" said the marquis.
"Yes, monseigneur, there are even triple keys; 'tis an ancient usage
that dates from--"
"Go and get me those of the tower which looks on the lake."
The porter departed, and soon returned with a bunch of keys, saying,--
"If monseigneur wishes I will conduct him through the chateau."
"Give me those and go, I do not need your assistance," said the marquis,
snatching the keys from his hand.
The old man, stupefied, bowed and departed, without daring to raise his
eyes on his master. The marquis dismissed his servants, saying that he
had need of rest, and presently the most profound silence reigned in the
chateau and in the grounds pertaining to it.
As for the Marquis de Villebelle, he walked irresolutely about his
apartment, holding the bunch of keys in his hand, and meditating deeply.
He was apparently still undecided as to what course he should take, and
muttered to himself from time to time,--
"No, I cannot make use of these keys--she seemed to give me her
confidence and I dare not abuse it; but must she pass her life thus? To
be so near her, to have abducted her in vain. What would all the
libertines say of me, all the people of fashion, if they knew of my
conduct? But if they could see Blanche! Why did that cursed Touquet
speak to me of these keys? I should have divined that when he entered
this chateau, that man would advise me to commit some wicked action."
Some moments passed, and at last the marquis took up a candle, and
exclaimed,--
"It is settled; I will listen only to the passion which leads me."
He left his room, which was separated from the tower where Blanche was
lodged by a long gallery adorned with portraits of the marquis'
ancestors. Villebelle walked slowly, pausing often to listen, and
trembling for fear he should meet someone; he kept his eyes down, and
seemed afraid to look at the portraits of his ancestors, who, for the
most part, had honored their country by their bravery and virtue. At
this moment something told him he was about to commit an act which was
unworthy of the name which they had transmitted to him, and when his
eyes met by chance one of those noble faces with which the gallery was
hung, he seemed to read in it an expression of indignation and scorn. At
last he reached the end of the gallery, and never had it seemed to him
so long; he mounted a grand staircase, crossed several rooms, and
entered the tower which held the young girl. A violent trembling seized
him. Wishing to master his uneasiness, he hastened his walk. All the
doors of communication were open, and he soon found Blanche's room. He
paused, and looked at the keys which he held in his hand; he still
hesitated, but, seeking to deaden himself to the crime which he was
about to commit, he tried several keys, and was soon in Blanche's room.
The deepest silence reigned in this place; the marquis stepped very
softly, taking each step with precaution. The door of the bedroom was
not closed. Villebelle looked in, and by the light of the lamp placed on
the hearth, perceived the young girl asleep.
"She sleeps," said the marquis; "she thinks herself safe in this
shelter, but her breathing is oppressed; she seems as though she were
going to speak; if I could but hear her."
He approached the bed. Blanche was dreaming of her lover; softly she
breathed Urbain's name, and extended her arms as if imploring someone;
then she murmured,--
"O dear God! they still keep us apart."
Villebelle felt moved and softened.
"No, she does not love me," said he softly; "in her sleep she is always
thinking of Urbain."
He sighed profoundly, and was about to depart, when Blanche awakened,
opened her eyes, and called out in terror,--
"O heavens! who is there?"
"It is I, Blanche," answered the marquis in a halting voice.
"You seigneur? so late in my room? What do you want with me?"
"Be calm, I beg of you."
"But you are trembling yourself, seigneur, what has happened?"
"Nothing, nothing; I wished to see you--to speak to you, to look at you
once more."
"Ah, don't look at me so, monsieur le marquis, you frighten me."
"Frighten you? Ah, Blanche, is that the feeling with which the most
faithful lover should inspire you? Yes, my love is at its height; I can
no longer master it; you must make me happy; you must be mine."
The marquis already held Blanche in his arms. The young girl uttered a
piercing cry, and gathering her strength, disengaged herself, jumping
lightly from her bed, but Villebelle again seized her; he tried to cover
her with kisses; he tried to stifle her cries. Blanche threw herself at
his feet, extended her arms towards him, supplicatingly, and cried in a
heart-breaking-voice,--
"Mercy! mercy! if only for today."
These accents penetrated to the depths of the marquis' soul. The sight
of Blanche at his feet, of her tears and of her despair, restored him to
reason, but fearing that he might no longer be able to master his
passion, he precipitately left the young girl, and distractedly fled to
his room.
CHAPTER XIV
URBAIN'S VISIT TO THE MARQUIS. CHAUDOREILLE'S LAST ADVENTURE
Blanche remained motionless and silent for a long time in the place
where she had implored, and her loveliness and the nameless charm of her
innocence had obtained, the pity, the forbearance of a man who had been
about to wrong her womanhood. At last a flood of tears relieved her
heart. She rose and then looked about her with terror; she listened
tremblingly; at the least sound caused by the wind on the lake she
shuddered, and imagined she heard the marquis returning. She passed the
night in cruel anxiety.
"All is over," she said, weeping; "my hope of happiness is completely
shattered. O my well-beloved Urbain, I shall see you no more; they will
separate us forever, but I will die rather than cease to be worthy of
thee."
The marquis had rested no better than his victim. Divided between love
and remorse, regretting at times having yielded to what he called his
weakness, and cursing a passion which made Blanche unhappy, he saw day
break without having closed his eyes.
Astonished at having received no orders in regard to Julia, Touquet
presented himself before the marquis; he remarked the dejection of the
latter's features, and sought to divine the cause of it. Villebelle's
gloomy and melancholy tone did not indicate that he was happy; he
remained silent, and the barber dared not question him. At this moment
Germain entered the room, and announced to his master that a young man
had presented himself at the chateau, and begged the favor of speech
with him.
"A young man?" said the marquis. "Is he an inhabitant of the
neighborhood?"
"No, monseigneur, his dress is that of a young student; he expresses
himself well, and appears to have the greatest desire to see you."
"He did not tell you his name?"
"He says that you know him without knowing his name."
"How very singular, can he be a messenger from Julia?" said Villebelle,
looking at the barber.
"I don't think so, monsieur le marquis. The description which Germain
has given of the stranger is not that of Chaudoreille."
"When they introduce this young man, Touquet, step into the next room;
it is possible he wishes to speak to me alone."
The barber departed and Germain returned with Urbain, who, having
travelled without stopping, had arrived at Sarcus, and was waiting
impatiently at the porter's lodge for the answer which the marquis
should send him.
"My master consents to see you. Follow me, monsieur, I will take you to
him," said Germain to Urbain; the latter joyfully hastened to follow the
valet, who introduced him to the marquis.
Urbain entered the room trembling; approaching with embarrassment the
great nobleman, who was seated on a sofa, and who looked curiously at
the young man, unable to resist a certain interest which Urbain's
refined and distinguished face inspired.
"Deign to excuse, seigneur, the liberty which I take," said the young
bachelor, bowing low to the marquis.
"Speak, monsieur, what do you want of me?"
"I come to implore your protection. You gave me permission to have
recourse to it. We have already seen each other at Paris, some time ago;
I was disguised, I met you at night in the Grand Pre-aux-Clercs, fought
a duel--"
"What, my brave fellow, was that you, who were dressed as a girl?"
"Yes, seigneur, I had the misfortune to wound you in the arm."
"And I tell you that that was just, for I was wrong, as I usually am.
Hang it! I'm delighted to see you again; give me your hand, you are a
brave fellow."
The marquis rose, came towards Urbain and cordially shook him by the
hand. The latter, delighted by this welcome, did not know how to evince
his gratitude.
"Seat yourself near me," said Villebelle, "and tell me what has procured
me the pleasure of receiving you in my chateau."
"Monseigneur, you had the goodness to offer me your protection if I were
unfortunate, and I come to claim it."
"You do well, my dear fellow; speak without fear. Is it money that you
need, I have it at your service; don't spare it, I often enough make a
bad use of it, once at least let it serve me in making somebody happy."
"Fortune could not render me happy, for it is love which causes my
trouble, monseigneur."
"Oh, you are in love; that's different, I am in love, also; and at this
moment it does not make me very happy, either. But come, tell me your
love affairs."
"I love, I adore, a charming young girl--ah, monseigneur, there is
nobody to be compared to her."
"Perhaps, but go on."
"She did not know her parents, but the man who had brought her up gave
me her hand. Only one day and we should have been united, when a wretch
introduced himself into the house where she lived and carried off from
me the one who was about to become my wife."
"That's very singular," said the marquis, struck by Urbain's recital,
"and do you know the name of this ravisher?"'
"No, monsieur le marquis, but after that I learned that it was a great
nobleman, a rich and powerful man--Ah, my only hope of discovering this
monster lies in you, for you perhaps know the place where he lives.
Monseigneur, have pity on my torture, help me to recover her whom they
have stolen from me, help me to recover Blanche, and the unfortunate
Urbain will owe you more than life."
At the name of Blanche the marquis rose abruptly. Urbain threw himself
at his feet, seized one of his hands and looked imploringly at him; but
Villebelle turned his head that the young man might not see the change
which had come over his face.
"Get up, get up," said the marquis, seeking to master his emotion; "I
wish to serve you, yes, but I cannot promise to restore to you the one
whom you have loved."
"Among the noblemen of the court, there are men who glory in betraying
innocence and snatching a young girl from her relations; seigneur, if
you have the least suspicion--sometimes the slightest indication will
put one on the track."
The marquis appeared to reflect deeply; Urbain, who believed that he
sought to recall some circumstance which had interested him, waited
with most lively anxiety for him to speak. After a long silence
Villebelle said,--
"You are very young, Urbain."
"I am nineteen years old, seigneur."
"This--Blanche is, no doubt, the first woman whom you have loved?"
"Yes, seigneur, and she will be the last."
"You are mistaken, my friend; at your age one loves ardently, but it is
a flame which quickly evaporates. It is only to one like me that--bereft
of the illusions of youth and wearied with change--a true love is a need
of the heart and should be an insurmountable feeling. Like you, at
nineteen years of age, I believed that I should love for life; I
deceived myself. Believe me, you will still be happy."
"Without Blanche? That is impossible."
"You have some little fortune?"
"I have a little country house which my father left me, and twelve
hundred livres income."
"With so little, distraction is not easy. I wish that you could taste
some of the pleasures of your age, and in their vortex you would soon
forget your first love."
"I thank you, seigneur, but I cannot accept your benefits. I repeat to
you, I can never taste pleasure separated from her I love."
"Well, what I have offered you would facilitate your researches. Do not
refuse me, it is only on that condition that I promise you to second
your efforts. Wait for me here, do not leave this room."
So saying, the marquis went into the room where Touquet was waiting.
"Urbain is there," said he, "the young stranger who asked to see me is
Blanche's lover."
"I know it, seigneur, I recognized his voice and I listened."
"He comes to beg my help in discovering the abductor of her he loves."
"He could not better address himself."
"I almost felt ready to give him his sweetheart."
"What folly!"
"But Blanche's image is too deeply graven in my heart. However, I wish
to try and indemnify poor Urbain for the evil which I have caused him;
and the power of gold--"
"It is the remedy for all evils, seigneur."
"Yes, to a venial soul like yours; you have never known the sweetness of
love."
"But it is necessary, seigneur, to get rid of this young man for a long
time. What prevents you--by means of false advice--from sending him to
England, to Turkey, to the devil even?"
"In fact, I comprehend."
"Travel will distract him from his love; you are a generous rival. Some
others in your place, profiting by the occasion, would shut this young
man up in some dungeon in this chateau."
"Oh, how horrible! to betray the confidence of this mere boy."
"In place of that you will give him money, so that he can live like a
great lord."
"Could I ever pay him for the treasure I have taken from him?"
The marquis opened a desk, took sixty thousand livres in notes, which he
placed in a pocketbook and returned to find Urbain. The young bachelor,
as he noted the elegance of the interior of the chateau, said to
himself,--
"It is, perhaps, in a similar abode that Blanche is lamenting at this
moment."
"In thinking of what you have told me," said Villebelle, "I recall
certain circumstances which might, perhaps, put you on the track of her
whom you are seeking."
"O monsieur le marquis, deign to tell me."
"The Marquis de Chavagnac has often made people talk about him by
abducting beautiful girls; he has suddenly left Paris, and one may
presume that it was on some similar adventure."
"Ah, it is he who has stolen Blanche from me."
"Remember well that I do not affirm anything."
"And does anyone know to which of his chateaux he has gone?"
"He is not in France, and, according to what I have learned, has betaken
himself to Italy."
"To Italy? Then that is where I must go."
"Take this pocketbook as a mark of my esteem, and do not spare that
which it holds."
"Seigneur, I do not know if I should."
"Believe my experience; with gold one may gain the duennas, one may
seduce jailers, one may surmount many obstacles."
"It will be to you, then, that I shall owe my happiness, my felicity. O
seigneur, I do not know how to express my gratitude to you."
"Go, Urbain, make a tour of Italy, and perhaps you will there find
happiness."
The young bachelor still wished to express to the marquis all his
gratitude, but the latter would not permit him, and again wishing him a
pleasant journey, he rang for Germain, who conducted Urbain to the door
of the chateau. Hardly had the young lover quitted the marquis'
apartments, when Villebelle called Touquet, and ordered him to follow
Urbain at a distance, and not to lose sight of him until he was certain
that the bachelor had left Sarcus. Urbain departed, penetrated with
gratitude to the marquis, but while passing through the great gate, he
experienced a sadness for which he could not account. He could hardly
leave the chateau, and turned to cast a last glance at the antique
towers of Sarcus. Wrapped in thought, he walked slowly down the first
road which he came to, greatly touched at the welcome which he had
received at the chateau. He hoped, thanks to the benevolence of the
marquis, soon to be in Italy, not doubting that it could be any other
than the Seigneur de Chavagnac who had carried Blanche off.
Urbain had already gone some distance from the chateau, and was about to
enter a lane which led to the village, when a shout of, "Take care
there!" made him raise his head, and he saw before him a man on
horseback. The rider, however, managed his horse so badly that the
animal was standing across the path, having his head resting on a bush,
to which he seemed to be attached.
"By jingo! won't you turn, proud animal; beware lest in place of the
spur I bury Rolande's point in your side. Take care there, what the
deuce! My horse is skittish, you frighten him."
The voice and accent of the chevalier immediately struck Urbain; he
recognized the man who had made an appointment with him at the Porte
Montmartre. Chaudoreille, after his meeting with the barber, had had no
thought except to leave the neighborhood of the chateau, and without
making his resolution known to Julia, who would, he was very certain,
oppose it, he had waited till the next day, when she had left the inn;
then, taking the bag which contained the effects and money of his
companion, he had sold one of their horses and, under the pretext of
exploring the neighborhood had started on his way, with the intention of
escaping to parts unknown. But the fugitive did not know how to hold
his horse, although since his journey to Sarcus he had believed himself
one of the best jockeys in France. Continually twitching the bridle of
his horse for fear the animal should run away, it had taken him an hour
to cover barely half a mile of road. He commenced to fear that he could
not depart quickly enough by this mode of travel, when Urbain met him in
the little lane, which the horse refused to leave.
Urbain, delighted at seeing the man again who had promised to tell him
the name of Blanche's ravisher, uttered a joyful exclamation, and ran
towards Chaudoreille. The sudden cry and approach of the young man
frightened the horse, which jumped, and sent his rider six feet from him
into a thick hedge.
"All the bones in my body are broken," cried Chaudoreille, while
falling.
Urbain ran to help him up, and to make his excuses, but the chevalier
drew away from him, and while rubbing himself looked at Urbain, who did
not cease to repeat,--
"I am Blanche's lover, the young man whom you met that night, and whom
you promised to meet at Porte Montmartre."
"My faith, that's true, I recognize you now; but why the deuce did you
run at me, and shout so loud? This is the first time that I have been
unhorsed."
"Monsieur, oblige me by keeping your promise; tell me the name of
Blanche's abductor. I can now recompense you beyond your hopes."
"Hush!" said Chaudoreille, drawing Urbain towards the hedge which hid
them from sight of the chateau; "imprudent young man, don't speak so
loud."
"Why not?"
"Silence, I tell you. What! you are at Sarcus, and you don't know the
name of your sweetheart's abductor?"
"No, of course not; I came to beg the Marquis de Villebelle's
protection, and thanks to him I hope--"
"Oh, for once this is too much! Young man, you interest me. I am about
to risk myself for you; but you have promised me a liberal recompense."
"Here, take this gold, these notes, and speak at once."
"Your sweetheart's abductor is no other than the Marquis de Villebelle."
"The marquis?"
"Why yes, by jingo! and your little girl is now at the Chateau de
Sarcus."
"No, that is not possible; you are deceiving me. The marquis has heaped
benefits upon me."
"The better to disarm your suspicions. Zounds! how young you still are.
I tell you that your Blanche is at the chateau, and that the barber--"
"Is before you," said a stern voice, which came from the other side of
the hedge, and, at the same moment, the foliage parted and Touquet
appeared before the astonished Urbain; while Chaudoreille, whose legs
failed him at this sudden apparition, fell again into the hedge,
muttering,--
"It's the devil."
"This wretch has not told you all, Seigneur Urbain," said the barber.
"Under pretext of serving you he has given you some half confidences,
but I wish you should know all the obligation under which you lie to
him. You were about to wed Blanche, and nothing was opposed to your
marriage; the marquis had never heard of that young girl, whom I had
carefully kept from his sight, foreseeing to what excesses he would be
carried; but Chaudoreille, in spite of his promises, gave the marquis a
most seductive portrait of your sweetheart and told him of your
approaching marriage. Finally, it is to him that you owe Blanche's
abduction and the loss of your happiness. Answer, clown, is not this the
truth?"
"I cannot deny it," answered the chevalier, half dead with fright,
"however, circumstances--"
"Wretch!" cried Urbain, "you are the cause of all my suffering, defend
yourself. The first act of my vengeance shall be your death."
While travelling, Urbain carried a sword; he drew his weapon from the
scabbard and advanced towards Chaudoreille, but the words, "by your
death," and the sight of the naked sword put new strength into the legs
of the little man. Abandoning the cloak which impeded his flight, he ran
with all his might, pursued by Urbain, who still threatened him with his
sword; while the barber, mounting Chaudoreille's horse, went at full
gallop to the chateau. The chevalier, who imagined that he felt the
point of Urbain's sword pricking his back, redoubled his speed; but
Urbain, animated by a desire for vengeance, had very nearly caught up to
him, and was not more than twenty paces behind him when they entered the
village. This flying man, pursued by another with a sword in his hand,
attracted everyone's attention.
"Out of the way! out of the way!" cried Chaudoreille to the crowd, while
Urbain shouted,--
"Stop that wretch."
The innkeeper who was at his door said,--
"Why, that's Monsieur Malek-Al-Chiras, castanet teacher. What can he
have done with his Arabian steed?"
The fugitive entered the first door that he found open, which was one in
the house of an old dowager. Chaudoreille mounted the staircase; arrived
at the first floor he perceived a key in a door, he entered
precipitantly, carefully taking the key with him and locking it after
him. At the same instant, a voice cried,--
"Monsieur, what are you doing here? Nobody can come in, I am not
visible."
It was the dowager, who was dressing at the moment when the chevalier,
entered her chamber, desperate. Chaudoreille did not answer, he heard
nothing but Urbain's steps.
"Monsieur, I am making my toilet."
"Make anything you please," said he at last, "I shall scarcely worry
myself about it."
"Leave this room, monsieur."
"Me, leave the room? By jingo! I'll take very good care not to do that.
Do you wish me to go to my death? I'm pursued by a man who absolutely
wishes to fight with me."
"Well, then, fight. Can't you defend yourself?"
"I can only defend myself when I am not attacked."
"What use is your sword then, monsieur?"
"That does not matter to you. Ah, zounds! I hear him."
In fact, Urbain had discovered Chaudoreille's retreat. He knocked at the
door and ordered him to open.
"Answer that there is nobody here," said Chaudoreille to the dowager,
"you will save the life of the most amiable man in Europe."
The old woman answered on the contrary,--
"He is here, but he has locked himself up with me and he has taken the
key."
"Oh, well, one can break in the door," said Urbain, "if this wretch
refuses to open it."
Chaudoreille looked round in search of a hiding-place, but feared the
dowager would betray him. Finally his glance rested on the chimney, and
seeing no other means of escape, he ran and climbed into it with the
agility of a squirrel. At that moment someone forced the door, and
Urbain entered, followed by some of the village people. They did not see
Chaudoreille, but the dowager indicated the way by which he had fled.
Going down into the court they perceived the chevalier on the roof,
creeping along a gutter and endeavoring to reach the neighboring house.
The way was dangerous, but the fear of fighting seemed to have blinded
Chaudoreille to all other perils. Already his foot touched the next
roof, and, using Rolande to feel his way, he turned his head to see if
Urbain was behind him; this movement made him lose his equilibrium, he
slipped, then disappeared. They ran to the place where he had fallen;
the descendant of Delilah had fallen on some cabbages, but not having
loosened his hold of Rolande, the long sword had passed through the
middle of his body. Thus perished the prudent Chaudoreille, while trying
to avoid a combat.
CHAPTER XV
JULIA'S STORY. WHAT WAS CONTAINED IN THE PORTFOLIO
The barber left Urbain in full pursuit of the luckless chevalier and
putting his horse at full gallop tore back to the Chateau de Sarcus, in
order that he might immediately apprise the marquis of that which had
taken place. He arrived in short order at the chateau and hastened to
present himself to Villebelle, whom he informed of the meeting of Urbain
and Chaudoreille and the disclosures that had been made.
"Then this young man is aware that I have grossly deceived him, that I
am Blanche's abductor and that she is now at the chateau?" said the
marquis. "He is young and ingenuous, his love for this hapless child is
pure and virtuous, he sought to honor her in making her his wife,--how
vile and dishonorable must I appear in his eyes!"
"What does the opinion of this beardless boy matter to you, monsieur le
marquis? The most important thing you have to think of is how to prevent
his coming in contact with Blanche, and that, now, will be rather
difficult. Now that he is sure that she is here, he will employ a
thousand stratagems to introduce himself into the chateau--"
"No, this boy shall not rob me of the woman whom I love."
"If he comes, as I am certain he will, to demand satisfaction, it's a
sure thing that you cannot refuse to fight him, and that will be the
best means of disembarrassing yourself of him. With your cool blood and
your skill with the sword, you ought easily to be able to vanquish a man
blinded by fury."
"Wretch! do you wish that I should be bathed in the blood of this child?
No, I am already guilty enough. But what prevents me from leaving
Sarcus, from carrying Blanche to a country where Urbain cannot discover
her? Yes, tonight even, we will start. We will go to unknown parts. Go
immediately and find Germain. The preparations for our departure must be
made in the greatest secrecy, and Blanche must not know of them until
the last moment; at midnight we will leave the chateau. By this means I
hope to make all traces of Blanche lost to Urbain forever."
"That is a very good idea, monseigneur, but Julia--"
"I shall trouble myself no more about her now, besides, this step will
also relieve me from her importunities. Go, run, and order everything
for tonight."
Touquet hastened to execute the marquis' orders; it was already late,
and there remained only a short time to Villebelle in which to make his
preparations for a voyage which he presumed would be of long duration.
The more he reflected, the more he approved of his plan. He imagined
that Blanche would find, in travelling in strange countries,
distractions which would make her soon forget the persons whom she had
left in France, and he flattered himself that he would soon see the
consummation of all his wishes.
Eleven o'clock struck. The night was fine; everything was in readiness
for their start, some fresh and lively horses were harnessed to a
travelling carriage. The marquis was still in his apartment, occupied in
finishing some letters to his stewards and some intimate friends in
Paris. Near him was the barber, to whom he gave his last instructions;
charging him in case he should see Urbain again, to advise that young
man to forget a woman whom he could never possess; and to enjoy himself
with the large fortune which Villebelle had placed at his disposal.
The barber listened quietly to the marquis; his eyes were fixed on the
gold and the bills of exchange spread on the desk by the side of a pair
of travelling pistols. A few moments later Villebelle was about to tell
Marie to go and call Blanche, when the door of the room opened softly.
The marquis, surprised that anyone should dare to come into his room so
late, raised his eyes and recognized Julia, wrapped in her black mantle.
"This woman again!" exclaimed Villebelle, while Touquet turned and
remained struck with astonishment on perceiving the Italian.
"Calm yourself, seigneur," said Julia, closing the door of the room,
"this visit will be the last that I shall make you."
"How did you come here? What do you want? Speak, hasten to answer me
unless you expect me to punish you for your strange conduct."
"I fear nothing, seigneur, it is very little matter what becomes of me
after this. I find you here with your confidant, which is just what I
wish. Deign to listen attentively to me. That which I am about to tell
you will, I am sure, change all your resolutions, and your departure
will not take place."
Julia's singular tone, and her unexpected appearance at so late an hour,
inspired Villebelle with curiosity and a secret terror. He signed to the
young Italian to speak. The latter seated herself between the marquis
and the barber, who waited impatiently for her explanation, and after
looking attentively at them for some time with a peculiar expression,
she at length began her story.
"It is first necessary, monsieur le marquis, that you should know that I
am the daughter of a man named Cesar Perditor, who passed for a sorcerer
in the eyes of ignorant people, and whose reputation became such that
he was obliged to quit Paris to protect himself from death, or, at
least, from a perpetual prison in the dungeons of the Bastile."
"Cesar! I often heard speak of that famous sorcerer," said the marquis.
"Did he not hold his conferences in a quarry near Gentilly?"
"Yes, seigneur; and there it was that an old man came to consult him, an
old man whose daughter you had abducted, and whom you had wounded with
your sword--the unfortunate Delmar."
"Estrelle's father?"
"Exactly, monseigneur. Old Delmar told his troubles to my father, and
begged him to give him the means to revenge himself upon you; but
despite all his skill Cesar would have had difficulty in satisfying the
old man if, while receiving the confidences of a great part of the
noblemen and of the women of fashion, he had not learned where your
little house was situated, and to what neighborhood you had taken the
young Estrelle. He told it to the old man, and the latter rescued his
daughter from your hands."
"What? It was her father who took her from the shelter where I had
placed her?" said the marquis with surprise, and appearing at every
moment more interested in Julia's tale. "And what became of her?"
"One moment, seigneur, you will learn all if you will allow me to
continue. Old Delmar had regained his daughter, but you had dishonored
her, and the adventure had caused too much stir to allow them to remain
in the city that you lived in. He possessed some fortune; he sold
everything, realized his property, recompensed my father for the service
he had rendered him, and carried Estrelle to the depths of Lorraine, and
there she gave birth to her child."
"Good God! she was a mother! can it be possible that Estrelle made me a
father? Ah, Julia, in mercy finish."
Julia seemed to enjoy for some moments the marquis' uneasiness, then she
resumed her story.
"It was at this time that my father was obliged to escape from Paris in
order to avoid arrest, and the report spread that he had perished in a
dungeon of the Bastile; but he had amassed sufficient for his
subsistence, and leaving his dangerous occupation, he had no thought but
to live in peace. I was then in Italy, my birthplace. My father came to
seek me, and brought me to France, the climate of which pleased him.
Unable to return to Paris, where he would have been recognized, my
father settled in the neighborhood of Nancy; there he again saw old
Delmar and his sad daughter, secretly bringing up a child of whom she
could only call herself the mother with blushes. Later he became
acquainted with a poor farmer who had been reduced to poverty by the
misconduct of his son, a wretch who, after committing a crime in the
country where he was born, had fled, carrying away from his parents all
that they possessed, and leaving them in the direst poverty."
"The history of this man can have no connection with Estrelle's child,"
said the marquis, impatiently; "in pity, Julia, finish what you have to
say to me."
"Pardon me, monsieur le marquis, that is more important than you think,
and it is very interesting to your worthy confidant, who has already
recognized his father in the old farmer of whom I have spoken."
The barber, who had given great attention to Julia's last words,
immediately exclaimed,--
"Oh, was that my father? I was guilty towards him I confess; love of
gold made me commit many faults, but I always had the intention of
repairing the wrong I had done, and there is still time for it."
"No, it is too late," said Julia, casting at the barber a terrible look.
"Is he dead?"
Julia remained silent. The marquis rose abruptly, exclaiming,--
"Well, then, cruel woman, have you amused yourself sufficiently with my
torture? When are you going to make an end of this?"
"You are both very impatient," said the young Italian, smiling bitterly;
"but there is little more to tell you. Old Touquet asked my father
whether he had, in his travels, heard his son spoken of. My father could
tell him nothing satisfactory. Soon after we went to dwell in a village
near Amiens; it was there that I lived up to the age of fifteen years.
Then my father died; and I came to Paris, where I went into a shop as a
simple workwoman. My father had left me no property except a manuscript
containing the most curious adventures of his life, and the secret
history of the persons who had consulted him. This is how I learned,
monsieur le marquis, of the abduction of poor Estrelle, and it was in
examining these notes of my father that I saw in what manner the barber
Touquet had acted toward his parents."
"Is that all that you know?" said the marquis. "Have you learned nothing
more in regard to Estrelle and her child?"
"A short time ago I did not know anything further, seigneur, but chance
has put me in possession of all that you would know, thanks to a visit
which I paid to the barber, for it was at his house that I found the
clew to the mystery."
"At my house?" said Touquet, looking at Julia in surprise.
"Yes, at your house, in the closet hidden at the back of the alcove in
Marguerite's chamber."
Pale and trembling, the barber muttered,--
"You have been in that closet--but there was nothing there; no, I am
very certain of it."
"You are mistaken, for in disturbing, by chance, a chest which stood on
the floor, I found this portfolio, which probably had been hidden by the
person whom you lodged there, who, not knowing how to dispose of these
important papers, had deemed it wise to put them in this secret place
during the time that he stayed at your house."
The barber looked with terror on the portfolio which Julia had drawn
from beneath her cloak, while the marquis exclaimed,--
"Do these papers come from Blanche's father?"
"They come, in fact, from the person who brought that young girl to the
barber's house. Seigneur, read first that one."
Julia gave a paper to Villebelle, who uttered a cry of surprise as he
read,--
"Certificate of the birth of Blanche, daughter of Estrelle Delmar."
"O my God!" said the marquis, breathing with difficulty, "can it be?"
"Wait, seigneur, do you know Estrelle's writing?"
"Yes, that is it, I recognize it."
"Read this note."
The marquis took the letter and eagerly read it,--
I feel that I am about to die, but, at least, my father has
forgiven me. He had forbidden me to make Blanche's existence known
to her father, and, as long as he lived, I respected his orders;
but he is no more, and I am about to follow him to the tomb.
Villebelle, Blanche is your daughter, the fruit of our love.
Good-by. Love her more than you have loved her mother. I forgive
you.
ESTRELLE DELMAR.
"O Blanche, O my daughter!" exclaimed the marquis, abandoning himself by
turns to his joy and his remorse, "I am your father and I have made you
unhappy."
"Finish this letter, seigneur," said Julia, "there is something there
which concerns your confidant."
The marquis saw some lines added by Estrelle's hand and read,--
I have no relations; my daughter will be presented to you by a
worthy friend in whom I have every confidence, and who goes to
Paris under a fictitious name to try to obtain some information
about a son who has dishonored him. I have confided to him the
fortune which I have left Blanche; my daughter needs nothing but
her father's friendship, but if he repulses her, the old Touquet
will take his place.
"Touquet," cried the marquis, looking at the barber.
The latter appeared thunderstruck. He looked at the letter, a cold sweat
stood out on his forehead; he could not utter a word.
"Yes," said Julia, "yes, unhappy wretch, it was your father who came to
your house with Blanche, whom he was taking to the marquis; he had taken
the name of Moranval, no doubt, that he might be more likely to get news
of his son in Paris. Perhaps he even knew in whose house he was taking
lodgings. Answer, wretch, how did you treat that traveller?"
"Do not question me," said the barber, walking wildly about the room, "I
am a monster. Do not come near me; I have murdered my father!"
"And for ten years you have deprived me of my daughter," cried the
marquis, starting from Touquet with horror. "You were about to make me
the most guilty of men, your horrible counsels were thrusting me to a
crime--wait, wretch, and receive the price of all your misdeeds."
The marquis seized one of the pistols which were on the desk and
directed it towards Touquet. The shot sped, and Julia looked coldly on,
as the barber fell at her feet.
"That death was too kind for you," said the marquis, "but, thanks to
Heaven, I have not committed the last crime. O my dear Blanche, you are
my daughter; that was the cause of the secret feeling which pled for
you. I will make you happy, and you shall forget my unworthy love;
henceforth, it is only a father who presses you in his arms."
The marquis left the room followed by Julia. He did not walk, he flew
towards the tower inhabited by Blanche. As he approached, his voice,
calling Blanche, woke the echoes. They reached the door of the room,
which was locked on the inside; the marquis, who had not taken his keys,
knocked and reknocked, calling Blanche and begging her to open. Nobody
answered, but presently a sound reached the marquis' ears, which seemed
to be caused by the fall of some object in the waters of the lake.
Villebelle experienced a sensation which he could not define; he ran and
called Germain, obtained his keys and entered Blanche's apartment; it
was empty, and everything announced that the young girl had not gone to
bed; but one of the windows looking on the lake was open. Led by a
secret presentiment, the marquis went on to the balcony. His eyes
searched the lake, and he called again,--
"Blanche, my daughter."
Nobody answered, but an object showed at intervals on the surface of the
lake, and seemed to move.
"It is she," cried Villebelle, and immediately jumped into the lake. It
was indeed the unfortunate Blanche, who, since the scene of the
preceding night, expecting at every moment some new attempt on the part
of the marquis, had not tasted a moment's rest. She had not gone to bed,
fearing to be surprised in her sleep, and watched trembling, believing
at the slightest noise, that her abductor was about to appear. Blanche
had decided to die rather than cease to be worthy of Urbain. On hearing
hasty steps approaching her room, and recognizing Villebelle's voice
calling her loudly, a most violent terror had seized her; and not
doubting but that he had come to accomplish his infamous purpose, she
had thrown herself into the lake, pronouncing Urbain's name.
The marquis swam towards the object which he perceived in the water, but
another person who had been in the park, had also thrown himself into
the lake. It was Urbain, who, certain that his sweetheart was in the
chateau, had profited by the night to introduce himself into the
gardens. The young bachelor had heard Blanche's sweet voice uttering his
name, then a sudden sound caused him to look towards the lake and he had
flown to the help of the unfortunate girl, with whom he had at length
reached the brink; where presently he was joined by the marquis, Julia,
and the people of the chateau, attracted by their master's shouts.
Blanche was stretched on the grass, while Urbain on his knees beside her
called her loudly, when the marquis came running in the greatest despair
and threw himself on the ground, supplicating Heaven to give him back
his daughter.
"His daughter?" cried all those around him.
"Yes," said Villebelle, gazing on Blanche's discolored features with
despair, "yes, it is my daughter, my child, whom I have made unhappy,
whose death I have caused. Ah, I would have given all my fortune to kiss
Estrelle's daughter, to hear her call me father, and by my passions, my
vices, I am deprived of my greatest treasure. Oh, my dear Blanche,
return to life; before death closes your mouth, tell me, at least, that
you will forgive me. But no, I shall not have even that last
consolation; she is dead without having once called me father."
The marquis threw himself on the body of his daughter, which Urbain
watered with his tears; he took Blanche's hands and held them against
his heart, seeking to rewarm them, to reanimate them, but all efforts
were vain. Blanche could no longer hear her father's cries, nor the sobs
of her lover.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Barber of Paris, by Charles Paul de Kock