Antoine de Chaulieu was the son of a poor gentleman of Normandy, with a
long genealogy, a short rent-roll, and a large family. Jacques Rollet
was the son of a brewer, who did not know who his grandfather was; but
he had a long purse and only two children. As these youths flourished in
the early days of liberty, equality, and fraternity, and were near
neighbours, they naturally hated each other. Their enmity commenced at
school, where the delicate and refined De Chaulieu being the only
gentil-homme amongst the scholars, was the favorite of the master (who
was a bit of an aristocrat in his heart) although he was about the worst
dressed boy in the establishment, and never had a sou to spend; whilst
Jacques Rollet, sturdy and rough, with smart clothes and plenty of
money, got flogged six days in the week, ostensibly for being stupid and
not learning his lessons—which, indeed, he did not—but, in reality, for
constantly quarrelling with and insulting De Chaulieu, who had not
strength to cope with him. When they left the academy, the feud
continued in all its vigour, and was fostered by a thousand little
circumstances arising out of the state of the times, till a separation
ensued in consequence of an aunt of Antoine de Chaulieu’s undertaking
the expense of sending him to Paris to study the law, and of maintaining
him there during the necessary period.
With the progress of events came some degree of reaction in favour of
birth and nobility, and then Antoine, who had passed for the bar, began
to hold up his head and endeavoured to push his fortunes; but fate
seemed against him. He felt certain that if he possessed any gift in the
world it was that of eloquence, but he could get no cause to plead; and
his aunt dying inopportunely, first his resources failed, and then his
health. He had no sooner returned to his home, than, to complicate his
difficulties completely, he fell in love with Mademoiselle Natalie de
Bellefonds, who had just returned from Paris, where she had been
completing her education. To expatiate on the perfections of
Mademoiselle Natalie, would be a waste of ink and paper; it is
sufficient to say that she really was a very charming girl, with a
fortune which, though not large, would have been a most desirable
acquisition to De Chaulieu, who had nothing. Neither was the fair
Natalie indisposed to listen to his addresses; but her father could not
be expected to countenance the suit of a gentleman, however well-born,
who had not a ten-sous piece in the world, and whose prospects were a
blank.
Whilst the ambitious and love-sick young barrister was thus pining in
unwelcome obscurity, his old acquaintance, Jacques Rollet, had been
acquiring an undesirable notoriety. There was nothing really bad in
Jacques’ disposition, but having been bred up a democrat, with a hatred
of the nobility, he could not easily accommodate his rough humour to
treat them with civility when it was no longer safe to insult them. The
liberties he allowed himself whenever circumstances brought him into
contact with the higher classes of society, had led him into many
scrapes, out of which his father’s money had one way or another released
him; but that source of safety had now failed. Old Rollet having been
too busy with the affairs of the nation to attend to his business, had
died insolvent, leaving his son with nothing but his own wits to help
him out of future difficulties, and it was not long before their
exercise was called for. Claudine Rollet, his sister, who was a very
pretty girl, had attracted the attention of Mademoiselle de Bellefonds’
brother, Alphonso; and as he paid her more attention than from such a
quarter was agreeable to Jacques, the young men had had more than one
quarrel on the subject, on which occasions they had each,
characteristically, given vent to their enmity, the one in contemptuous
monosyllables, and the other in a volley of insulting words. But
Claudine had another lover more nearly of her own condition of life;
this was Claperon, the deputy governor of the Rouen jail, with whom she
had made acquaintance during one or two compulsory visits paid by her
brother to that functionary; but Claudine, who was a bit of a coquette,
though she did not altogether reject his suit, gave him little
encouragement, so that betwixt hopes, and fears, and doubts, and
jealousies, poor Claperon led a very uneasy kind of life.
Affairs had been for some time in this position, when, one fine morning,
Alphonse de Bellefonds was not to be found in his chamber when his
servant went to call him; neither had his bed been slept in. He had been
observed to go out rather late on the preceding evening, but whether or
not he had returned, nobody could tell. He had not appeared at supper,
but that was too ordinary an event to awaken suspicion; and little alarm
was excited till several hours had elapsed, when inquiries were
instituted and a search commenced, which terminated in the discovery of
his body, a good deal mangled, lying at the bottom of a pond which had
belonged to the old brewery. Before any investigations had been made,
every person had jumped to the conclusion that the young man had been
murdered, and that Jacques Rollet was the assassin. There was a strong
presumption in favour of that opinion, which further perquisitions
tended to confirm. Only the day before, Jacques had been heard to
threaten Mons. de Bellefonds with speedy vengeance. On the fatal
evening, Alphonse and Claudine had been seen together in the
neighbourhood of the now dismantled brewery; and as Jacques, betwixt
poverty and democracy, was in bad odour with the prudent and respectable
part of society, it was not easy for him to bring witnesses to
character, or prove an unexceptionable alibi. As for the Bellefonds and
De Chaulieus, and the aristocracy in general, they entertained no doubt
of his guilt; and finally, the magistrates coming to the same opinion,
Jacques Rollet was committed for trial, and as a testimony of good will,
Antoine de Chaulieu was selected by the injured family to conduct the
prosecution.
Here, at last, was the opportunity he had sighed for! So interesting a
case, too, furnishing such ample occasion for passion, pathos,
indignation! And how eminently fortunate that the speech which he set
himself with ardour to prepare, would be delivered in the presence of
the father and brother of his mistress, and perhaps of the lady herself!
The evidence against Jacques, it is true, was altogether presumptive;
there was no proof whatever that he had committed the crime; and for his
own part he stoutly denied it. But Antoine de Chaulieu entertained no
doubt of his guilt, and his speech was certainly well calculated to
carry that conviction into the bosom of others. It was of the highest
importance to his own reputation that he should procure a verdict, and
he confidently assured the afflicted and enraged family of the victim
that their vengeance should be satisfied. Under these circumstances
could anything be more unwelcome than a piece of intelligence that was
privately conveyed to him late on the evening before the trial was to
come on, which tended strongly to exculpate the prisoner, without
indicating any other person as the criminal. Here was an opportunity
lost. The first step of the ladder on which he was to rise to fame,
fortune, and a wife, was slipping from under his feet!
Of course, so interesting a trial was anticipated with great eagerness
by the public, and the court was crowded with all the beauty and fashion
of Rouen. Though Jacques Rollet persisted in asserting his innocence,
founding his defence chiefly on circumstances which were strongly
corroborated by the information that had reached De Chaulieu the
preceding evening,—he was convicted.
In spite of the very strong doubts he privately entertained respecting
the justice of the verdict, even De Chaulieu himself, in the first flush
of success, amidst a crowd of congratulating friends, and the approving
smiles of his mistress, felt gratified and happy; his speech had, for
the time being, not only convinced others, but himself; warmed with his
own eloquence, he believed what he said. But when the glow was over, and
he found himself alone, he did not feel so comfortable. A latent doubt
of Rollet’s guilt now burnt strongly in his mind, and he felt that the
blood of the innocent would be on his head. It is true there was yet
time to save the life of the prisoner, but to admit Jacques innocent,
was to take the glory out of his own speech, and turn the sting of his
argument against himself. Besides, if he produced the witness who had
secretly given him the information, he should be self-condemned, for he
could not conceal that he had been aware of the circumstance before the
trial.
Matters having gone so far, therefore, it was necessary that Jacques
Rollet should die; so the affair took its course; and early one morning
the guillotine was erected in the court yard of the jail, three
criminals ascended the scaffold, and three heads fell into the basket,
which were presently afterwards, with the trunks that had been attached
to them, buried in a corner of the cemetery.
Antoine de Chaulieu was now fairly started in his career, and his
success was as rapid as the first step towards it had been tardy. He
took a pretty apartment in the Hôtel Marbœuf, Rue Grange-Batelière, and
in a short time was looked upon as one of the most rising young
advocates in Paris. His success in one line brought him success in
another; he was soon a favourite in society, and an object of interest
to speculating mothers; but his affections still adhered to his old love
Natalie de Bellefonds, whose family now gave their assent to the
match—at least, prospectively—a circumstance which furnished such an
additional incentive to his exertions, that in about two years from the
date of his first brilliant speech, he was in a sufficiently flourishing
condition to offer the young lady a suitable home. In anticipation of
the happy event, he engaged and furnished a suite of apartments in the
Rue du Helder; and as it was necessary that the bride should come to
Paris to provide her trousseau, it was agreed that the wedding should
take place there, instead of at Bellefonds, as had been first projected;
an arrangement the more desirable, that a press of business rendered
Mons. de Chaulieu’s absence from Paris inconvenient.
Brides and bridegrooms in France, except of the very high classes, are
not much in the habit of making those honeymoon excursions so universal
in this country. A day spent in visiting Versailles, or St. Cloud, or
even the public places of the city, is generally all that precedes the
settling down into the habits of daily life. In the present instance St.
Denis was selected, from the circumstance of Natalie’s having a younger
sister at school there; and also because she had a particular desire to
see the Abbey.
The wedding was to take place on a Thursday; and on the Wednesday
evening, having spent some hours most agreeably with Natalie, Antoine de
Chaulieu returned to spend his last night in his bachelor apartments.
His wardrobe and other small possessions, had already been packed up and
sent to his future home; and there was nothing left in his room now, but
his new wedding suit, which he inspected with considerable satisfaction
before he undressed and lay down to sleep. Sleep, however, was somewhat
slow to visit him; and the clock had struck _one_, before he closed his
eyes. When he opened them again, it was broad daylight; and his first
thought was, had he overslept himself? He sat up in bed to look at the
clock which was exactly opposite, and as he did so, in the large mirror
over the fire-place, he perceived a figure standing behind him. As the
dilated eyes met his own, he saw it was the face of Jacques Rollet.
Overcome with horror he sunk back on his pillow, and it was some minutes
before he ventured to look again in that direction; when he did so, the
figure had disappeared.
The sudden revulsion of feeling such a vision was calculated to occasion
in a man elate with joy, may be conceived! For some time after the death
of his former foe, he had been visited by not unfrequent twinges of
conscience; but of late, borne along by success, and the hurry of
Parisian life, these unpleasant remembrancers had grown rarer, till at
length they had faded away altogether. Nothing had been further from his
thoughts than Jacques Rollet, when he closed his eyes on the preceding
night, nor when he opened them to that sun which was to shine on what he
expected to be the happiest day of his life! Where were the high-strung
nerves now! The elastic frame! The bounding heart!
Heavily and slowly he arose from his bed, for it was time to do so; and
with a trembling hand and quivering knees, he went through the processes
of the toilet, gashing his cheek with the razor, and spilling the water
over his well polished boots. When he was dressed, scarcely venturing to
cast a glance in the mirror as he passed it, he quitted the room and
descended the stairs, taking the key of the door with him for the
purpose of leaving it with the porter; the man, however, being absent,
he laid it on the table in his lodge, and with a relaxed and languid
step proceeded on his way to the church, where presently arrived the
fair Natalie and her friends. How difficult it was now to look happy,
with that pallid face and extinguished eye!
“How pale you are! Has anything happened? You are surely ill?” were the
exclamations that met him on sides. He tried to carry it off as well as
he could, but felt that the movements he would have wished to appear
alert were only convulsive; and that the smiles with which he attempted
to relax his features, were but distorted grimaces. However, the church
was not the place for further inquiries; and whilst Natalie gently
pressed his hand in token of sympathy, they advanced to the altar, and
the ceremony was performed; after which they stepped into the carriages
waiting at the door, and drove to the apartments of Madme. de
Bellefonds, where an elegant _déjeuner_ was prepared.
“What ails you, my dear husband?” enquired Natalie, as soon as they were
alone.
“Nothing, love,” he replied; “nothing, I assure you, but a restless
night and a little overwork, in order that I might have to-day free to
enjoy my happiness!”
“Are you quite sure? Is there nothing else?”
“Nothing, indeed; and pray don’t take notice of it, it only makes me
worse!”
Natalie was not deceived, but she saw that what he said was true; notice
made him worse; so she contented herself with observing him quietly, and
saying nothing; but, as he _felt_ she was observing him, she might
almost better have spoken; words are often less embarrassing things than
too curious eyes.
When they reached Madame de Bellefonds’ he had the same sort of
questioning and scrutiny to undergo, till he grew quite impatient under
it, and betrayed a degree of temper altogether unusual with him. Then
everybody looked astonished; some whispered their remarks, and others
expressed them by their wondering eyes, till his brow knit, and his
pallid cheeks became flushed with anger. Neither could he divert
attention by eating; his parched mouth would not allow him to swallow
anything but liquids, of which, however, he indulged in copious
libations; and it was an exceeding relief to him when the carriage,
which was to convey them to St. Denis, being announced, furnished an
excuse for hastily leaving the table. Looking at his watch, he declared
it was late; and Natalie, who saw how eager he was to be gone, threw her
shawl over her shoulders, and bidding her friends _good morning_, they
hurried away.
It was a fine sunny day in June; and as they drove along the crowded
boulevards, and through the Porte St. Denis, the young bride and
bridegroom, to avoid each other’s eyes, affected to be gazing out of the
windows; but when they reached that part of the road where there was
nothing but trees on each side, they felt it necessary to draw in their
heads, and make an attempt at conversation. De Chaulieu put his arm
round his wife’s waist, and tried to rouse himself from his depression;
but it had by this time so reacted upon her, that she could not respond
to his efforts, and thus the conversation languished, till both felt
glad when they reached their destination, which would, at all events,
furnish them something to talk about.
Having quitted the carriage, and ordered a dinner at the Hôtel de
l’Abbaye, the young couple proceeded to visit Mademoiselle Hortense de
Bellefonds, who was overjoyed to see her sister and new brother-in-law,
and doubly so when she found that they had obtained permission to take
her out to spend the afternoon with them. As there is little to be seen
at St. Denis but the Abbey, on quitting that part of it devoted to
education, they proceeded to visit the church, with its various objects
of interest; and as De Chaulieu’s thoughts were now forced into another
direction, his cheerfulness began insensibly to return. Natalie looked
so beautiful, too, and the affection betwixt the two young sisters was
so pleasant to behold! And they spent a couple of hours wandering about
with Hortense, who was almost as well informed as the Suisse, till the
brazen doors were open which admitted them to the Royal vault.
Satisfied, at length, with what they had seen, they began to think of
returning to the inn, the more especially as De Chaulieu, who had not
eaten a morsel of food since the previous evening, owned to being
hungry; so they directed their steps to the door, lingering here and
there as they went, to inspect a monument or a painting, when, happening
to turn his head aside to see if his wife, who had stopt to take a last
look at the tomb of King Dagobert, was following, he beheld with horror
the face of Jacques Rollet appearing from behind a column! At the same
instant, his wife joined him, and took his arm, inquiring if he was not
very much delighted with what he had seen. He attempted to say yes, but
the word would not be forced out; and staggering out of the door, he
alleged that a sudden faintness had overcome him.
They conducted him to the Hôtel, but Natalie now became seriously
alarmed; and well she might. His complexion looked ghastly, his limbs
shook, and his features bore an expression of indescribable horror and
anguish. What could be the meaning of so extraordinary a change in the
gay, witty, prosperous De Chaulieu, who, till that morning, seemed not
to have a care in the world? For, plead illness as he might, she felt
certain, from the expression of his features, that his sufferings were
not of the body but of the mind; and, unable to imagine any reason for
such extraordinary manifestations, of which she had never before seen a
symptom, but a sudden aversion to herself, and regret for the step he
had taken, her pride took the alarm, and, concealing the distress she
really felt, she began to assume a haughty and reserved manner towards
him, which he naturally interpreted into an evidence of anger and
contempt. The dinner was placed upon the table, but De Chaulieu’s
appetite of which he had lately boasted, was quite gone, nor was his
wife better able to eat. The young sister alone did justice to the
repast; but although the bridegroom could not eat, he could swallow
champagne in such copious draughts, that ere long the terror and remorse
that the apparition of Jacques Rollet had awakened in his breast were
drowned in intoxication. Amazed and indignant, poor Natalie sat silently
observing this elect of her heart, till overcome with disappointment and
grief, she quitted the room with her sister, and retired to another
apartment, where she gave free vent to her feelings in tears.
After passing a couple of hours in confidences and lamentations, they
recollected that the hours of liberty granted, as an especial favour, to
Mademoiselle Hortense, had expired: but ashamed to exhibit her husband
in his present condition to the eyes of strangers, Natalie prepared to
re-conduct her to the _Maison Royale_ herself. Looking into the
dining-room as they passed, they saw De Chaulieu lying on a sofa fast
asleep, in which state he continued when his wife returned. At length,
however, the driver of their carriage begged to know if Monsieur and
Madame were ready to return to Paris, and it became necessary to arouse
him. The transitory effects of the champagne had now subsided; but when
De Chaulieu recollected what had happened, nothing could exceed his
shame and mortification. So engrossing indeed were these sensations that
they quite overpowered his previous ones, and, in his present vexation,
he, for the moment, forgot his fears. He knelt at his wife’s feet,
begged her pardon a thousand times, swore that he adored her, and
declared that the illness and the effect of the wine had been purely the
consequences of fasting and overwork. It was not the easiest thing in
the world to re-assure a woman whose pride, affection, and taste, had
been so severely wounded; but Natalie tried to believe, or to appear to
do so, and a sort of reconciliation ensued, not quite sincere on the
part of the wife, and very humbling on the part of the husband. Under
these circumstances it was impossible that he should recover his spirits
or facility of manner; his gaiety was forced, his tenderness
constrained; his heart was heavy within him; and ever and anon the
source whence all this disappointment and woe had sprung would recur to
his perplexed and tortured mind.
Thus mutually pained and distrustful, they returned to Paris, which they
reached about nine o’clock. In spite of her depression, Natalie, who had
not seen her new apartments, felt some curiosity about them, whilst De
Chaulieu anticipated a triumph in exhibiting the elegant home he had
prepared for her. With some alacrity, therefore, they stepped out of the
carriage, the gates of the Hôtel were thrown open, the _concierge_ rang
the bell which announced to the servants that their master and mistress
had arrived, and whilst these domestics appeared above, holding lights
over the balusters, Natalie, followed by her husband, ascended the
stairs. But when they reached the landing-place of the first flight,
they saw the figure of a man standing in a corner as if to make way for
them; the flash from above fell upon his face, and again Antoine de
Chaulieu recognised the features of Jacques Rollet!
From the circumstance of his wife’s preceding him, the figure was not
observed by De Chaulieu till he was lifting his foot to place it on the
top stair: the sudden shock caused him to miss the step, and, without
uttering a sound, he fell back, and never stopped till he reached the
stones at the bottom. The screams of Natalie brought the concierge from
below and the maids from above, and an attempt was made to raise the
unfortunate man from the ground; but with cries of anguish he besought
them to desist.
“Let me,” he said, “die here! What a fearful vengeance is thine! Oh,
Natalie, Natalie!” he exclaimed to his wife, who was kneeling beside
him, “to win fame, and fortune, and yourself, I committed a dreadful
crime! With lying words I argued away the life of a fellow-creature,
whom, whilst I uttered them, I half believed to be innocent; and now,
when I have attained all I desired, and reached the summit of my hopes,
the Almighty has sent him back upon the earth to blast me with the
sight. Three times this day—three times this day! Again! again!”—and as
he spoke, his wild and dilated eyes fixed themselves on one of the
individuals that surrounded him.
“He is delirious,” said they.
“No,” said the stranger! “What he says is true enough,—at least in
part;” and bending over the expiring man, he added, “May Heaven forgive
you, Antoine de Chaulieu! I was not executed; one who well knew my
innocence saved my life. I may name him, for he is beyond the reach of
the law now,—it was Claperon, the jailer, who loved Claudine, and had
himself killed Alphonse de Bellefonds from jealousy. An unfortunate
wretch had been several years in the jail for a murder committed during
the phrenzy of a fit of insanity. Long confinement had reduced him to
idiocy. To save my life Claperon substituted the senseless being for me,
on the scaffold, and he was executed in my stead. He has quitted the
country, and I have been a vagabond on the face of the earth ever since
that time. At length I obtained, through the assistance of my sister,
the situation of concierge in the Hôtel Marbœuf, in the Rue
Grange-Batelière. I entered on my new place yesterday evening, and was
desired to awaken the gentleman on the third floor at seven o’clock.
When I entered the room to do so, you were asleep, but before I had time
to speak you awoke, and I recognised your features in the glass. Knowing
that I could not vindicate my innocence if you chose to seize me, I
fled, and seeing an omnibus starting for St. Denis, I got on it with a
vague idea of getting on to Calais, and crossing the Channel to England.
But having only a franc or two in my pocket, or indeed in the world, I
did not know how to procure the means of going forward; and whilst I was
lounging about the place, forming first one plan and then another, I saw
you in the church, and concluding you were in pursuit of me, I thought
the best way of eluding your vigilance was to make my way back to Paris
as fast as I could; so I set off instantly, and walked all the way; but
having no money to pay my night’s lodging, I came here to borrow a
couple of livres of my sister Claudine, who lives in the fifth story.”
“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed the dying man; “that sin is off my soul!
Natalie, dear wife, farewell! Forgive! forgive all!”
These were the last words he uttered; the priest, who had been summoned
in haste, held up the cross before his failing sight; a few strong
convulsions shook the poor bruised and mangled frame; and then all was
still.
And thus ended the Young Advocate’s Wedding Day.