MAITRE BOULARD.
The prisoner who entered the reception-room at the moment when
Pique-Vinaigre left it was a man about thirty, with reddish brown hair,
a jovial countenance, florid and full; and his short stature made his
excessive fatness still more conspicuous. This prisoner, so rosy and
plump, was attired in a long and warm dressing-gown of gray kersey, with
pantaloons of the same down to his feet. A kind of cap of red velvet,
called _Perinet-Leclerc_, completed this personage's costume, when we
add that his feet were thrust into comfortable furred slippers. His gold
chain supported a number of handsome seals with valuable stones, and
several rings with real stones shone on the red fingers of the _detenu_,
who was called Maitre Boulard, a _huissier_ (a law-officer), and accused
of breach of trust.
The person who had come to see him was, as we have said, Pierre Bourdin,
one of the _gardes de commerce_ (bailiffs) employed to arrest poor
Morel, the lapidary. This bailiff was usually employed by Maitre
Boulard, the _huissier_ of M. Petit-Jean, the man of straw of Jacques
Ferrand.
Bourdin, shorter and quite as stout as the _huissier_, formed himself on
the model of his employer, whose magnificence he greatly admired. Very
fond as he was of jewelry, he wore on this occasion a superb topaz pin,
and a long gilt chain was visible through the buttonholes of his
waistcoat.
"Good day, my faithful friend, Bourdin, I was sure you would not fail
to come at my summons!" said Maitre Boulard, in a joyful tone, and in a
small, shrill voice, which contrasted singularly with his large carcass
and full-moon face.
"Fail at your summons!" replied the bailiff; "I am incapable of such
behaviour, _mon general_."
This was the appellation by which Bourdin, with a joke at once familiar
and respectful, called the _huissier_, under whose orders he acted; this
military appellation being very frequently used amongst certain classes
of clerks and civil practitioners.
"I observe with pleasure that friendship remains faithful to
misfortune!" said Maitre Boulard, with gay cordiality. "However, I was
getting a little uneasy, as three days had elapsed, and no Bourdin."
"Only imagine, _mon general_!--it is really quite a history. You
remember that dashing vicomte in the Rue de Chaillot?"
"Saint-Remy?"
"Yes; you know how he laughed at all our attempts to 'nab' him?"
"Yes; he behaved very ill in that way."
"Well, this vicomte has got another title."
"What, is he a comte?"
"No, but from swindler he has become thief!"
"Ah, bah!"
"They are after him for some diamonds he has stolen; and, by the way,
they belonged to the jeweller who used to employ that vermin of a Morel,
the lapidary we were going to arrest in the Rue du Temple, when a tall,
thin chap, with black moustaches, paid for this half-starved devil, and
very nearly pitched me and Malicorne headlong down-stairs."
"Ah, yes, yes, I remember; you told me all about it, Bourdin,--it was
really very droll! But as to this dashing vicomte?"
"Why, as I tell you, Saint-Remy was charged with robbery, after having
made his worthy old father believe that he wished to blow out his
brains. A police agent of my acquaintance, knowing that I had been long
on the traces of the vicomte, asked me if I could not give him
information so that he could 'grab' the dandy. I had learned (too late
for myself) that he had 'run to earth' in a farm at Arnouville, five
leagues from Paris; but when we got there the bird had flown!"
"But next day he paid that acceptance,--thanks, as I have heard say, to
some rich woman!"
"Yes, general; but still I knew the nest, and he might have gone there
again, and so I told my friend in the police. He proposed to me to give
him a friendly cast of my office and show him the farm, and as I had
nothing to do and it was a rural trip, I agreed."
"Well, and the vicomte?"
"Not to be found. After having lurked about the farm for some time, we
gained admittance, and returned as wise as we went; and this is why I
could not come to your orders sooner, general."
"I was sure it was something of this sort, my good fellow."
"But, if I may be allowed to ask, how the devil did you get here?"
"Wretches, my dear fellow, a set of wretches who, for a miserable sixty
thousand francs of which they declare I have wronged them, have charged
me with a breach of trust and compelled me to resign my office."
"Really, general! Well, that's unfortunate! And shall I then work for
you no longer?"
"I am on half pay now, Bourdin,--on the retired list."
"But who are these vindictive persons?"
"Why, only imagine, one of the most savage of all is a liberated
convict, who employed me to recover the amount of a bill of seven
hundred miserable francs, for which it was requisite to bring an action.
Well, I brought the action, and got the money and used it; and because,
in consequence of some unsuccessful speculations, I swamped that money
and several other sums, all these blackguards have assailed me with
warrants; and so you find me here, my dear fellow, neither more nor less
than a malefactor."
"And does it not alarm you, general?"
"Yes; but the oddest thing of all is that this convict wrote me word
some days ago that this money being his sole resource for bad times, and
these bad times having arrived (I don't know what he means by that), I
was responsible for the crimes he might commit in order to escape from
starvation."
"Amusing, 'pon my soul!"
"Very; and the fellow is capable of saying this, but fortunately the law
does not recognise any such accompliceships."
"After all, you are only charged with breach of trust?"
"That is all. Do you take me for a thief, Maitre Bourdin?"
"Oh, dear general! I meant to say there was nothing very serious in
this."
"Why, I don't look very down, do I, my boy?"
"By no means; never saw you looking better. Indeed, if you are found
guilty, you will only have two or three months, imprisonment and
twenty-five francs fine. I know the law, you see!"
"And these two or three months I shall contrive, I know, to pass quietly
in some infirmary. I have a deputy at my elbow."
"Oh, then, you're all right."
"Yes, Bourdin; and I can scarcely help laughing to think what little
good the fools who put me here have done themselves,--they will not
recover a sou of the money they claim. They compel me to sell my
post,--what do I care?"
"True, general; it is only so much the worse for them."
"Yes, my boy. And now for the subject on which I was anxious to see you,
Bourdin; it is a very delicate affair,--there is a lady in the case!"
said Maitre Boulard, with mysterious self-complacency.
"Oh, you gay deceiver! But, be it what it may, you may rely on me."
"I am greatly interested in the welfare of a young actress at the
theatre of the Folies-Dramatiques. I pay her rent; but, you know, the
absent are always in the wrong! Alexandrine has applied to me for money.
Now I have never been a very gay fellow, but yet I do not like to be
made a fool of; so, before I comply, I should like to know if the lady
is faithful. I know there is nothing more absurd and uncommon than
fidelity, and so you will do me a friendly service if you could just
watch her for a few days and let me know your opinion, either by a talk
with the porter at her abode or--"
"I understand, general," said Bourdin; "this is no worse than watching a
debtor. Rely on me; I will have an eye to Mlle. Alexandrine,--although,
I should say, you are too generous and too good-looking not to be
adored!"
"My good looks are no use, my friend, so long as I am absent; and so I
rely on you to discover the truth."
"Rely on me."
"How can I, my dear fellow, prove my gratitude?"
"Don't mention it, general."
"Pray understand, my dear Bourdin, that your fees in this case will be
the same as if you were after an arrest."
"I can't allow it, general. As long as I act under your orders, have you
not allowed me to shear the debtor to his very skin,--to double, treble,
the costs of arrests? And have you not sued for those costs for me as
eagerly as if they were due to yourself?"
"But, my dear fellow, this is very different; and, in my turn, I declare
I will not allow it."
"_Mon general_, you will really make me quite ashamed if you do not
allow me to make these inquiries as to Mlle. Alexandrine as a poor proof
of my gratitude."
"Well, well; be it so. I will no longer contend with your generosity;
and your devotion will be a sweet reward to me for considerations I have
always mixed up in our transactions."
"Very good, general; and now we understand each other. Is there anything
else I can do for you? You must be very uncomfortable here. I hope you
are _a la pistole_ (in a private room)?"
"Yes; I came just in time to get the only empty room,--the others are
being repaired. I have made myself as comfortable as possible in my
cell, and am not so very miserable. I have a stove and a very nice easy
chair; I make three long meals a day, and my digestion is good; then I
walk and go to sleep. Except my uneasiness about Alexandrine I have not
so much to complain of."
"But for you who were such an epicure, general, the prison diet is very
poor."
"Why, there is an excellent cookshop in my street, and I have a running
account with him, and so every two days he sends me a very nice supply.
And, by the way, I would get you to ask his wife--a nice little woman is
Madame Michonneau--to put into the basket a bit of pickled thunny. It is
in season now, and relishes one's wine."
"Capital idea!"
"And tell Madame Michonneau to send me a basket of various
wines,--burgundy, champagne, and bordeaux,--like the last; she'll know
what I mean. And tell her to put in two bottles of old cognac of 1817,
and a pound of pure Mocha, fresh roasted and ground."
"I'll put down the date of the cognac, lest I should forget it," said
Bourdin, taking a memorandum-book from his pocket.
"As you are writing, my good fellow, be so good as make a minute of my
wish to have an eider-down quilt from my house."
"All shall be done to the letter, general; make your mind easy. And now
I shall be comfortable about your living. But your walks; you are
compelled to take them along with those ruffians confined here?"
"Yes; and it's really very lively and animated. I go down after
breakfast; sometimes I go into one yard, sometimes another, and I mix
with the mob. Really they appear very good sort of fellows! Some of them
are very amusing. The most ferocious are collected in what is called the
Fosse aux Lions. Ah, my good fellow, what hang-dog-looking fellows there
are amongst them. There's one they call the Skeleton,--I never saw such
a creature."
"What a singular name!"
"He is so thin, or rather bare of flesh, that this is the nickname which
has been given to him; he is really frightful. He is, besides, director
of his ward, and, moreover, an infernal villain. He has just left the
galleys, and went directly to murder and assassination. But his last
murder was really horrible, as he knew he should be condemned to death
without chance of remission; but he laughs at it."
"What a scoundrel!"
"All the prisoners admire and tremble before him. I got into his good
graces at once by offering him some cigars, and so he made a friend of
me at once, and offered to teach me slang; and I have made considerable
progress."
"Oh, what an idea!--my general learning slang!"
"I amuse myself as much as I can, and all these fellows adore me. I am
not proud like a young fellow they call Germain, who gives himself the
airs of a lord."
"But he must be delighted at meeting with such a gentleman as you, even
if he is disgusted with the others."
"Why, really, he did not seem even to notice that I was there; but, if
he had, I should have taken care how I took any notice of him. He is the
_bete noire_ of the whole prison, and some day or other they'll play him
a slippery trick; and, _pardieu!_ I have no wish to come in for my share
of what may befall him."
"You're right."
"It would interfere with my pleasures, for my walk with the prisoners is
really a pleasure to me; only these ruffians have no great opinion of me
morally. You see, my accusation of a simple breach of trust is
contemptible in the eyes of these out-and-outers; and they look on me as
a nobody."
"Why, really, with such criminals you are--"
"A mere chicken, my dear fellow. But do not forget my commissions."
"Make your mind easy, general. First, Mlle. Alexandrine; second, the
fish-pie and basket of wine; third, the old cognac of 1817, the ground
coffee, and the eider-down quilt; you shall have it all. Is there
anything else?"
"Yes, I forgot. You know the address of M. Badinot?"
"The agent? Yes."
"Well, be so kind as to call on him, and say that I rely on his
friendship to find me a barrister such as my case requires, and that I
shall not stand for forty or fifty pounds."
"I'll see M. Badinot, depend upon it, general; and all your commissions
shall be attended to this evening, and to-morrow you shall receive all
you wish for. So good day, and a happy meeting to us soon, _mon
general_."
"Good-bye, my worthy friend!" And the prisoner quitted the parlour at
one door, and the visitor by the other.
* * * * *
Let us now compare the crime of Pique-Vinaigre with that of M. Boulard,
the _huissier_. Compare the beginning of the two, and the reasons, the
necessities, which impelled them to evil. Compare, too, the punishment
which awaited them respectively. The one, driven by his hunger and need,
robs. He is apprehended, judged, and sentenced to fifteen or twenty
years of hard labour and exposure. Property is sacred, and he who, in
the night, breaks for plunder should undergo sacred punishment. But
ought not the well-informed, intelligent, rich man who robs--not to
satisfy hunger, but his caprices or gambling in the stocks--to be
punished? Yet for the public spoliator there is two months'
imprisonment; for the relapsed convict twenty years' hard labour and
exposure. What can we add to these facts, which speak for themselves?
* * * * *
The old turnkey kept his word; and when Boulard left the parlour,
Germain entered, and Rigolette was only separated from him by a light
wire grating.