GRINGALET AND CUT-IN-HALF.
Pique-Vinaigre began his recital thus, in the midst of the profound
silence of his auditory:
"It is no inconsiderable time ago that the story occurred which I am
about to relate to this honourable company. What was called La Petite
Pologne was not then destroyed. The honourable society knows (or does
not know) what was called La Petite Pologne?"
"Well enough!" said the prisoner in the blue cap; "they were some small
houses near the Rue du Rocher and the Rue de la Pepiniere?"
"Exactly so, my dear sir," replied Pique-Vinaigre; "and the Quartier of
the Cite, which, at the same time, does not consist of palaces, would be
in comparison to La Petite Pologne the Rue de la Paix or the Rue de
Rivoli. What a rookery! but, at the same time, very convenient for gents
in our line. There were no streets but narrow alleys, no houses but
ruins, no pavement but a small carpet of mud and dungheaps, which would
have destroyed all the noise of wheels,--that is, supposing any
carriages passed by that way; but none did! From morn till night, and,
particularly, from night till morn, there were only heard cries of
'Watch! Watch! Help! Murder!' but the watch took no notice. The more
persons were knocked on the head in La Petite Pologne, the fewer persons
there were to apprehend. You should have seen the respectable
inhabitants who lived there! There were very few jewellers, goldsmiths,
and bankers; but then, on the other hand, there were quantities of
organ-grinders, puppet-showmen, punches, and showers of remarkable
animals. Amongst the latter was one well known as Cut-in-Half,--he was
so cruel, and especially to children. He acquired this name because it
was reported that he had cut a small Savoyard in two with a blow of his
hatchet."
At this moment the prison clock struck a quarter past three o'clock. The
prisoners being made to return to their cells at four o'clock, the
Skeleton's murderous design must be carried into execution before that
hour.
"_Mille tonnerres!_ The turnkey won't go!" he said, in a low tone, to
Gros-Boiteux.
"Be easy! He'll go when once the story is begun."
Pique-Vinaigre continued: "No one knew where Cut-in-Half came from. Some
said he was an Italian, others a Bohemian, others a Turk, others an
African; the gossips called him a magician, although a magician in our
times would be something to look at. What made them believe this was,
that he always had with him a large red monkey called Gargousse, and who
was so cunning and savage that he seemed as if possessed by the devil. I
shall mention this beauty again presently; as to Cut-in-Half, I shall
soon describe him. His complexion was like the old tops of a pair of
jockey-boots, his hair as red as the hair of his monkey, his eyes green,
and (what made the women think he was a conjuror) he had a black
tongue."
"A black tongue!" exclaimed Barbillon.
"Black as ink!" replied Pique-Vinaigre.
"And how did that happen?"
"Because, no doubt, when his mother was in the family way she had,
perhaps, talked of a negro," said Pique-Vinaigre, with modest assurance.
"To these attractions Cut-in-Half joined the profession of having a
multitude of tortoises, monkeys, guinea-pigs, white mice, foxes, and
marmosettes, corresponding to an equivalent total of Savoyards and
forsaken children. Every morning he distributed his animal to each, and
a morsel of black bread, and then despatched them to beg for 'Only one
ha'penny!' or dance the Catarina. Those who only brought in at night
fifteen sous were beaten, soundly beaten, so that their shrieks might be
heard from one end of La Petite Pologne to the other. I should also say
that there was in La Petite Pologne a man called Le Doyen (the Dean),
because he was the 'oldest inhabitant,' and, as it were, mayor, provost,
magistrate, for it was in his room (he kept a Tom and Jerry shop) that
all went when they could not otherwise decide their quarrels. Although
rather aged, yet Le Doyen was as strong as Hercules, and very generally
feared. They swore by him in La Petite Pologne; and when he said 'Very
good!' all the world said 'Very good!' When he said 'That's bad!' all
the world said 'That's bad!' He was a good fellow at bottom, but very
fierce, particularly when the strong misused the weak,--then look out
for squalls! As he was Cut-in-Half's nearest neighbour, he had heard the
children cry very frequently from the blows which the shower of beasts
gave them. He had said to him, 'If I hear the children cry, I will make
you cry in your turn; and, as you have the stronger voice, I will give
you the severer beating.'"
"Well done, Le Doyen! I like Le Doyen!" said the prisoner in the blue
nightcap.
"So do I!" added the turnkey, as he approached the group.
The Skeleton could not repress a movement of angry impatience.
Pique-Vinaigre proceeded:
"Thanks to Le Doyen, who had threatened Cut-in-Half, the cries of the
children were heard no more in the night-time in La Petite Pologne; but
the poor, unhappy little fellows did not suffer the less, for if they
cried no longer when their master beat them, it was because they were
afraid of being more cruelly beaten. As to complaining to Le Doyen, they
had no idea of that. For the fifteen sous which each little fellow was
obliged to bring in, Cut-in-Half lodged, boarded, and clothed them. In
the evening a bit of black bread, as at breakfast,--this was their food.
He never gave them clothes,--that was the way he clothed them; and he
shut them up at night with their animals, on the same straw in a garret,
to which they mounted by a ladder and a trap,--this was the lodging.
When once all had ascended, and the tale of children and animals was
complete, he took away the ladder and locked the trap.
"You may judge of the life and row which these monkeys, guinea-pigs,
foxes, mice, tortoises, marmosettes, and children made all in the dark
in this cock-loft, which was as big as a barn. Cut-in-Half slept in a
room underneath, with his great ape, Gargousse, fastened to the foot of
his bed. When the brute growled, because there was too much noise in the
loft, the beast-shower went up the ladder without any light, and, going
into the loft, laid about him right and left with a heavy whip, without
seeing or counting his blows. As there were always some fifteen
children, and some of the poor dears brought him in twenty sous a day,
Cut-in-Half having defrayed all his outlay, which was by no means
excessive, had left for himself some four or five francs a day, with
which he enjoyed himself, for it must be told that he was one of the
greatest tipplers that ever lived, and was regularly blind drunk once a
day. That was his rule; and he declared that, but for that, he should
have the headache every day. We should add, that out of his gains he
used to buy some sheeps' hearts for Gargousse, who ate raw flesh like a
cannibal. But I see the honourable society are anxious to be introduced
to Gringalet! Here he is, gents!"
"Let's have Gringalet, and I'll go and eat my soup," said the turnkey.
The Skeleton exchanged a look of savage satisfaction with the
Gros-Boiteux.
"Amongst the children to whom Cut-in-Half distributed his animals,"
continued Pique-Vinaigre, "was a poor little devil named Gringalet.
Without father or mother, brother or sister, without fire, food, or
shelter, he was alone in the world,--quite alone in a world which he had
not asked to enter, and which he might leave without attracting any
one's attention. He was not called Gringalet for any pleasure he had in
the name, for he was meagre, lean, and pallid; he did not look above
seven or eight years old, but was really thirteen. If he did not seem
more than half his name, it was not because of his own will, but because
he only fed perhaps every other day, and then so scantily, so poorly,
that it was really an exertion to make him pass for seven years old."
"Poor little brat! I think I see him!" said the prisoner in the blue
cotton nightcap; "there are so many children like him on the streets of
Paris dying of hunger!"
"They must begin to learn that way of living very young in order to get
accustomed to it," said Pique-Vinaigre, with a bitter smile.
"Come, get on!" said the Skeleton, suddenly; "the turnkey is getting
impatient--his soup is getting cold."
"Oh, never mind that!" said the _surveillant_. "I wish to know something
more of Gringalet; it is very amusing!"
"Yes, it is really very interesting!" added Germain, who was very
attentive to the story.
"Ah, thank ye for saying that, my capitalist," said Pique-Vinaigre;
"that gives me more satisfaction than your ten-sous' piece."
"_Tonnerre!_" exclaimed the Skeleton, "will you have done with your
delays?"
"Well, then," replied Pique-Vinaigre, "one day Cut-in-Half had picked up
Gringalet in the streets, dying with cold and hunger; perhaps it would
have been best if he had let him die. As Gringalet was weak, he was a
coward; as he was a coward, he became the jest and sport of the other
lads, who beat him and used him so ill that he would have become wicked
if he had not been deficient in strength and courage. But no; when he
had been heartily thumped, he cried, and said, 'I have not done any harm
to anybody, and everybody is unkind to me,--that's very cruel; oh, if I
were strong and bold!' You will, perhaps, imagine that Gringalet was
about to add, 'I would return to others the ill they do to me?' By no
means. He said,' Oh, if I were strong and bold, I would defend the weak
against the strong, for I am weak, and the strong have made me suffer!'
In the meanwhile, as he was too small a boy to prevent the strong from
ill-using the weak, beginning with himself, he prevented the larger
brutes from eating the smaller ones."
"What a strange idea!" said the prisoner in the blue cap.
"And, what is stranger still," said the tale-teller, "it was this idea
that consoled Gringalet for being beaten; which proves that his heart
was not bad at bottom."
"_Pardieu!_ Quite the contrary," said the guardian. "What an amusing
devil that Pique-Vinaigre is!"
At this instant the chimes went half past three o'clock. The Skeleton
and Gros-Boiteux exchanged significant glances. The time was drawing on,
and the _surveillant_ did not go; and some of the less hardened
prisoners seemed almost to forget the sinister projects of the Skeleton
against Germain, as they listened attentively to Pique-Vinaigre's
recital.
"When I say," he continued, "that Gringalet prevented the larger brutes
from eating the smaller, you must understand that Gringalet did not mix
himself up with tigers, and lions, and wolves, or even foxes and
monkeys, in the menagerie of Cut-in-Half,--he was too much of a coward
for that; but if he saw, for instance, a spider hidden in his web, in
wait for a poor foolish fly flying gaily in the sunshine of the good
God, without hurting any one, why, in a moment, Gringalet smashed the
web, freed the fly, and did for the spider like a regular Caesar,--a real
Caesar; for he turned as white as a sheet in touching such nasty
reptiles; and then it required resolution in him, who was afraid of a
cockchafer, and had been a long while in forming an intimacy with the
tortoise which Cut-in-Half handed to him every morning. Thus Gringalet,
overcoming the fear which the spider caused him, in order to prevent
flies from being eaten, proved himself--"
"As plucky in his way as a man who attacks a wolf to take a lamb from
his jaws," said the prisoner in the blue cap.
"Or a man who would have attacked Cut-in-Half to take Gringalet from his
clutches," added Barbillon, who was deeply interested.
"As you say," continued Pique-Vinaigre; "so that after one of these
onslaughts Gringalet did not feel himself so unhappy. He who never
laughed, smiled, looked about him, cocked his cap on one side (when he
had one), and hummed the 'Marseillaise' with the air of a conqueror. At
this moment, there was not a spider that dared to look him in the face.
Another time it was a grasshopper which was swimming and struggling in a
brook; in a moment, Gringalet put his two fingers boldly in the water
and rescued the grasshopper, which he put on the grass. A first-class
swimmer, who had fished up his tenth drowning man at fifty francs a
head, could not have been prouder than Gringalet when he saw his
grasshopper bend his legs and jump away. And yet the grasshopper gave
him neither money nor medal, nor uttered any more thanks than did the
fly. But then, Pique-Vinaigre, worthy friend, the honourable company
will say to me, what the devil pleasure could Gringalet, whom all the
world thumped and buffeted, find in freeing grasshoppers and destroying
spiders? Since people were unkind to him, why did he not take his
revenge by doing all the evil in his power? For instance, in giving
spiders flies to eat, leaving grasshoppers to drown, or even drowning
them on purpose?"
"Yes, why not? Why did he not revenge himself in that way?" asked
Nicholas.
"What good would that have been?" inquired another.
"Why, to do ill, as ill was done to him."
"No! Well, then, I understand he liked to save the flies, poor little
chap!" said the man in a blue cap. "He said, perhaps, 'Who knows if some
day they mayn't save me in the same way?'"
"My right worthy friend is right," cried Pique-Vinaigre, "and has read
in his heart what I was about to narrate to the honourable assembly.
Gringalet was not wicked; he did not see beyond the end of his nose; but
he said,'Cut-in-Half is my spider, and perhaps some day some one will do
for me what I do for the other poor little flies,--break his web and
take me from his clutches;' for till then nothing could have induced him
to run away from his master; he would as soon have thought of killing
himself. However, one day, when neither he nor his tortoise had had a
chance, and had not gained between either of them more than three sous,
Cut-in-Half beat the poor child very severely, so severely that, _ma
foi!_ Gringalet could not stand it any longer; and, tired of being the
butt and martyr of everybody, he watched a moment when the trap was
open, and, whilst Cut-in-Half was feeding his animals, he slid down the
ladder."
"Oh, so much the better," said a prisoner.
"But why didn't he go and complain to the Doyen?" inquired the blue cap;
"he would have served Cut-in-Half out."
"Yes, but he dared not; he was too much afraid, and preferred trying to
escape. Unfortunately, Cut-in-Half had seen him, and, seizing him by the
wrist, lugged him up again into the loft. Poor Gringalet, thinking of
what must befall him, shuddered all over, although he was by no means at
the end of his troubles. Apropos of Gringalet's troubles, I must now
mention to you Gargousse, the large and favourite ape of Cut-in-Half.
This mischievous brute was, _ma foi!_ taller than Gringalet; only
imagine what a size for a monkey! I must tell you why he was never taken
into the streets to be shown, like the other animals of the menagerie:
it was because Gargousse was so wicked and powerful that there was not
one amongst all the show-boys, except an Auvergnat of fourteen, a
determined chap, who, after many skirmishes and contests with Gargousse,
had mastered him, and could lead him about with a chain; and even with
him Gargousse frequently got up some fights, which ended in bloodshed
produced by Gargousse's bites. Enraged at this, the little Auvergnat
said, one fine day, 'Very well, I will revenge myself on this infernal
monkey;' and so, one morning, having gone out with the brute as usual,
he, in order to appease its savageness, bought a sheep's heart. Whilst
Gargousse was eating it, he put a rope through the end of his chain,
tied it to a tree, and, when he had got the brute quite at his mercy, he
gave it an outrageous walloping."
"Well done! Bravo the Auvergnat! Go it, my lad! Skin the beast alive!"
said the prisoners.
"He did whack him gloriously!" continued Pique-Vinaigre. "And you should
have seen how Gargousse cried, ground his teeth, leaped, danced, and
skipped hither and thither; but the Auvergnat used his stick famously!
Unfortunately, monkeys, like cats, are very tenacious of life. Gargousse
was as crafty as he was vicious; and when he saw, as they say, how the
wood was on fire, at a heavy blow he made a final bound, and fell flat
at the foot of a tree, shook for a moment, and then shammed dead, lying
as motionless as a log. The Auvergnat believed he had done for him, and,
thinking the ape dead, he cut away, resolved never again to return to
Cut-in-Half. But the beast Gargousse watched him out of the corner of
his eye, and, bruised and wounded as he was, as soon as he saw himself
alone he rent the cord asunder with his teeth. The Boulevard Monceaux,
where he had had this hiding, was close to La Petite Pologne, and the
monkey knew his way as easy as his paternoster; and, making off in that
direction, arrived at his master's, who roared and foamed when he saw
how his monkey had been served. This is not all. From this moment
Gargousse entertained such a furious revenge against all children that
Cut-in-Half, who was not the tenderest soul alive, dared not trust him
to any one for fear of an accident; for Gargousse was capable of
strangling or devouring a child, and all the little brute-showers,
knowing that, would rather be thrashed by Cut-in-Half than go near the
monkey."
"I must really go and eat my soup," said the turnkey, turning towards
the door; "this devil of a Pique-Vinaigre would wheedle a bird down from
a tree to hear him! I can't tell where the deuce he fishes up all he
tells!"
"Now, then, the turnkey will go," said the Skeleton, in a whisper to the
Gros-Boiteux. "I'm in such a rage I shake all over! Mind and form a wall
all around the informer,--I will take care of the rest!"
"Mind, now, and be good boys!" said the turnkey, turning towards the
door.
"As good as images!" replied the Skeleton, coming closer to Germain,
whilst the Gros-Boiteux and Nicholas, after having agreed on a signal,
made two steps in the same direction.
"Ah, worthy turnkey, you are going at the most interesting moment!" said
Pique-Vinaigre, with an air of reproach.
Had it not been for the Gros-Boiteux, who anticipated his intention, and
seized him suddenly by the arm, the Skeleton would have rushed on
Pique-Vinaigre.
"What! The most interesting moment?" replied the turnkey, turning
towards the story-teller.
"Decidedly," said Pique-Vinaigre; "you do not know all you will
lose,--the most delightful portion of the history is now about to
commence."
"Don't attend to him," exclaimed the Skeleton, who with difficulty
repressed his rage; "he is not in good trim to-day; for my part I think
his story very stupid."
"My story very stupid?" cried Pique-Vinaigre, wounded in his pride as a
tale-teller. "Well, turnkey, I beg of you,--I entreat you to remain till
the conclusion, which, at most, will not be longer than a quarter of an
hour, and as by this time your soup must be cold, why, you haven't much
to lose by a little delay. I will go ahead with my narrative, so that
you may still have time to eat your soup before we are locked up for the
night."
"Well, then, I'll stay, but make haste," said the turnkey, coming closer
towards him.
"You are wise to stay, turnkey," continued Pique-Vinaigre; "without
bragging, you never heard anything like it before, especially the
finale, which is the triumph of the ape, and Gringalet escorted in
procession by all the little beast-showers and inhabitants of La Petite
Pologne. On my word and honour, it is not for the sake of boasting, but
it is really superb."
"Then tell it speedily, my boy," said the turnkey, returning towards the
stove.
The Skeleton shook with rage. He almost despaired of accomplishing his
crime. If bedtime arrived, Germain must escape, for he was not in the
same dormitory with his implacable enemy, and on the following day
Germain was to be in a separate cell.
"So it's very stupid!" continued Pique-Vinaigre. "Well, the honourable
company shall be the judge of that. There could not exist a more
vicious brute than the big ape Gargousse, who was even more savage with
children than his master. What does Cut-in-Half do to punish Gringalet
for trying to run away? You shall know by and by. Well, in the meantime,
he seizes on the unhappy child, and locks him into the cock-loft for the
night, saying, 'To-morrow morning, when all your companions are gone
out, I will let you see what I do with vagabonds who try to run away
from me.' You may imagine what a wretched night Gringalet passed. He did
not close an eye, but kept asking himself what Cut-in-Half meant to do
with him, and then he fell asleep. He had a dream,--such a horrid
dream,--that is, the beginning of it was, as you shall see. He dreamed
that he was one of the very poor flies that he had so often rescued from
the spiders' webs, and that he had fallen into a large and strong web,
where he was struggling,--struggling with all his might, without being
able to escape. He then saw coming towards him, stealthily and
treacherously, a kind of monster, which looked like Cut-in-Half turned
into a spider. Poor Gringalet began to struggle again, as you may
suppose, but the more he struggled the more he got entangled, like the
poor flies. At last the spider came up to him, touched him, and he felt
the cold and hairy paws of the horrid beast curl around him and enclose
him, intending to devour him. He believed he was dead, when suddenly he
heard a kind of clear, ringing, sharp sort of buzzing, and he saw a
beautiful golden fly, with a kind of brilliant dart, like a diamond
needle, which flew around the spider with a furious air, and a voice
(when I say a voice you must imagine a fly's voice) which said, 'Poor
little fly! You have saved flies! The spider shall not--' Unfortunately
Gringalet jumped up at this moment, and did not see the end of his
dream; but yet he was at first somewhat assured, and said to himself,
'Perhaps the golden fly with the diamond dart would have killed the
spider if I had finished the dream.' But in vain did Gringalet
endeavour to make himself easy and take comfort; in proportion as the
night ended, his fears renewed, so strongly, that at last he forgot his
dream, or, rather, he only remembered the portion which affrighted him,
the large web in which he had been caught and enfolded by the spider
which resembled Cut-in-Half. You may imagine what a fright he was in;
only think--only think--alone,--quite alone, and no one to defend him!
In the morning, when he saw daybreak gradually appear through the
skylight of the cock-loft, his fears redoubled, and the moment was at
hand when he would be alone with Cut-in-Half. He then threw himself on
his knees in the middle of the garret, and, weeping bitterly, entreated
his comrades to ask Cut-in-Half to forgive him, or else to help him to
escape if possible. But some from fear of their master, others from
disregard, and some from ill nature, refused what poor Gringalet
requested so earnestly."
"Young scamps!" said the prisoner in the blue cap; "he is to be pitied,
so helpless. If he could have defended himself, tooth and nail, it would
have been very different, _ma foi!_ If you have fangs, show 'em, boy,
and defend your tail!"
"To be sure!" said several prisoners.
"Holloa, there!" exclaimed the Skeleton, unable to conceal his rage, and
addressing the Blue Cap; "won't you hold your jaw? Didn't I say silence
in the stone-jug? Am I captain of the ward or not?"
The Blue Cap's answer was to look the Skeleton full in the face, and
then make that low-lived gesture of the blackguards, which consists in
applying the thumb of the right hand to the end of the nose, opening the
fingers like a fan, and putting the little finger on the thumb of the
left hand, similarly extended. He accompanied this mute reply with so
odd a look that many of the prisoners laughed heartily, whilst others,
on the contrary, were actually stupefied at the audacity of the new
prisoner, so greatly was the Skeleton feared. The latter shook his fist
at the new prisoner, and said to him, grinding his teeth:
"We'll settle this to-morrow!"
"I'll make the calculation on your nob! I'll put down seventeen and
carry nothing!"
For fear the turnkey should have fresh motive for staying, in order to
repress any row, the Skeleton quietly replied:
"That is not what I mean; I am the captain of this room, and ought to be
attended to,--ought not I, turnkey?"
"Certainly," replied the superintendent; "no interruption; and go on,
Pique-Vinaigre, and make haste, will you, my lad?"
"Then," resumed Pique-Vinaigre, "Gringalet, seeing how all the world
forsook him, resigned himself to his miserable fate. It was broad day,
and all the boys were going out with their animals. Cut-in-Half opened
the trap, and called each to give him his morsel of bread. They all
descended the ladder, and Gringalet, more dead than alive, squeezed up
in a corner of the cock-loft with his tortoise, did not move, but
watched his companions as they descended one after the other, and would
have given everything he had to have done as they did. At length the
last quitted the loft, and then his heart beat quick as he thought his
master might forget him. But Cut-in-Half, who was standing at the foot
of the ladder, exclaimed in a loud voice, 'Gringalet! Gringalet!' 'Here
I am, master.' 'Come down directly, or I'll fetch you!' added
Cut-in-Half; and Gringalet believed his last hour was come. 'Oh,' said
he to himself as he trembled in all his limbs, and recollected his
dream, 'you are in the web, little fly, the spider is going to eat you!'
After having put his tortoise quietly down on the ground, he said
farewell to it, for he had become fond of the creature, and went to the
trap, and put his leg on the ladder to go down, when Cut-in-Half, taking
hold of his miserable little leg, as thin as a stick, pulled him down so
suddenly that Gringalet lost his hold, and fell with his face all down
the rounds of the ladder."
"What a pity it was that the Doyen of La Petite Pologne was not there at
that moment! What a dance he could have played to Cut-in-Half!" said the
blue nightcap; "it is at such moments as these that a man is always
happy and contented to feel how useful it is sometimes to be strong."
"That's all right, my lad, but, unfortunately, the Doyen was not there,
so Cut-in-Half seized hold of the child by the waistband of his little
breeches, and carried him to his own hole of a chamber, where the huge
monkey was kept fastened to the foot of his bed. Directly the spiteful
beast saw the boy, he began to jump and spring about, grinding his teeth
like a mad thing, and darting towards Gringalet as near as his chain
permitted him, as though he meant to devour him."
"Poor Gringalet! How ever will he be able to escape? If that beast of a
monkey once gets hold of him he is safe to strangle him! I declare,"
exclaimed the man in the blue cap, "the very thoughts of a poor innocent
child being in such a dangerous situation makes me shiver from head to
foot, and I seem as though I couldn't hurt a worm. How do you feel, good
friends?"
"The very same!" replied a burst of voices. "No more could we!"
At this moment the prison clock chimed forth the first quarter past
three, and the Skeleton, becoming momentarily more and more apprehensive
that the time would slip away without their being able to accomplish
their design, and furious at the continued interruptions, as well as
irritated at the evident sympathy and compassion awakened in the
breasts of the prisoners by Pique-Vinaigre's recital, called out in
angry voice:
"Silence in the stone jug, I say! We shall never get to the end of this
unlucky history if you persist in chiming in."
The buzz of voices died away at these words, and Pique-Vinaigre thus
continued:
"When it is recollected how much poor little Gringalet had had to endure
before he could get used to his tortoise, and that even the boldest of
his companions trembled and turned pale even at the mention of
Gargousse's name, it may very easily be imagined what deadly terror he
experienced when he found himself placed by his master within the reach
of the horrible monkey. 'Oh, master, master!' he cried, as his teeth
rattled and shook in his head, as though he were under the influence of
an ague fit, 'pray--pray forgive me! Pray have mercy on me! I will never
do so any more. Indeed, indeed, I never will! Oh, I promise you, master;
only let me off this time, and I will never do so again!' But all these
prayers and supplications escaped almost unconsciously from the poor
child, who had indeed committed no fault that called for such promises.
Cut-in-Half, however, laughed at the boy's terrors, and, spite of the
struggles and resistance of the unhappy child, he dragged him within the
grasp of Gargousse, who sprang upon him, and seized him with a savage
grasp."
A cry of execration passed throughout the assembly, which had been
listening with the profoundest attention to the progress of the tale.
"I should have been a rare fool had I gone away," said the officer on
duty, as he drew nearer to the listening groups.
"Oh, but," said Pique-Vinaigre, "you've heard nothing as yet,--the best
is still to come. Directly poor Gringalet felt the cold hairy paws of
the ape seize him by the head and neck, he imagined it was with the
intention of devouring him, and driven almost mad by his agony, he began
shrieking and groaning in a manner that would have moved a stone to pity
him, while he wildly exclaimed, 'Oh, send help! Send help from heaven,
God of goodness and of little children! Oh, little golden fly, come and
preserve me! Come, little fly, and save me from the horrible spider I
dreamed about!' 'Will you hold your noise?' exclaimed Cut-in-Half, as he
gave him several hard kicks, for he was fearful lest his cries should be
heard; but in a minute's time there was no further danger of that, for
the poor boy neither cried or struggled further, but pale and cold as
marble, he remained kneeling, while the devilish monkey clawed and
scratched and buffeted the trembling victim, who, closing his eyes,
resigned himself to his fate. After Gargousse had tired himself with
thus tormenting poor Gringalet, he suddenly paused, and looked up to his
master's countenance, as though asking what he should do next. And
really it seemed as though the ape and his master understood each
other's thoughts, for Gargousse immediately renewed the attack by
plucking out handfuls of the shuddering boy's hair, upon which
Cut-in-Half burst into fits of laughter, so long and so loud that, had
poor Gringalet tried ever so hard, he could not have made himself heard
amid these wicked and malicious rejoicings. They had, however, the
effect of encouraging Gargousse, who proceeded to attack the unfortunate
child with redoubled fierceness."
"Ah, you beggar of a monkey!" exclaimed Blue Bonnet, "I only wish I had
been near enough to catch hold of your tail! I'd have swung you round
and round like a windmill, and finished by knocking out your dirty
brains against the hardest stone I could find! That beastly ape was as
cruel as if he had been a man!"
"Oh!" cried a simultaneous burst of voices, "no man ever was, or ever
will be, so cruel as that, I'm sure!"
"Hallo!" interrupted Pique-Vinaigre, "you forget Cut-in-Half when you
make that remark. However, just listen to what he did next. He
unfastened the long chain of Gargousse from the leg of his bed, around
which it was generally secured, and tied it to the waist of the poor
trembling child, who by this time was more dead than alive; so that the
monkey and the boy were thus placed at the opposite ends of the chain."
"There was a devil's own invention! Ay, ay, it is quite certain that
some human creatures are more cruel than the most savage wild beast!"
"When Cut-in-Half had completed this arrangement, he said to the monkey,
who appeared to understand every word he said,--and certainly these were
such a precious pair it would have been a thousand pities they should
have had any difficulty in the matter: 'Now, then, Gargousse, attention!
You have been exhibited with all your clever tricks, but it is now your
turn to be showman. You shall be master, and Gringalet shall be
monkey,--yes, your monkey. So up with you, Gringalet, or I shall set
Gargousse on you, and let him tear you to pieces!' The unhappy child,
unable to utter a word, had again fallen on his knees, holding up his
clasped hands in mute supplication, while the only sound he could utter
proceeded from the convulsive rattling of his teeth. 'Make him stand
upright, Gargousse!' said Cut-in-Half to his ape, 'and if he is
obstinate do as I am doing;' and with these words he belaboured the
child with a switch he held in his hand. Then passing the stick to the
monkey, he added, 'Make him stand up! Hit harder!--harder!' You all know
what close imitators all monkeys are, but Gargousse was ever remarkable
for his extreme quickness in copying the actions of others. He was not
long, therefore, in bestowing so severe a flagellation on the shoulders
of his terrified victim as soon compelled him to try at least to stand
upon his feet, and once up, the unhappy child became as nearly as
possible the same height as the ape. Then Cut-in-Half went out of the
room, and descended the staircase, calling out to Gargousse to follow
him, which he did, tugging violently at the end of the chain to which
Gringalet was fastened, and compelling him to follow like a slave, at
the same time beating him as hard as he could with his cane; and thus
they reached the small courtyard belonging to the miserable tenement
occupied by Cut-in-Half and his live stock.
"Now, then, Cut-in-Half reckoned on having good sport, so, first
securing the door that opened into the lane, he made signs to Gargousse
to play Gringalet round and round the yard as fast as he could. The ape
loved the fun as well as his master, and coursed the frightened boy
round the yard, beating him with all the strength the switch admitted
of, while Cut-in-Half laughed till his sides ached. Perhaps you may
think this malicious nature was now satisfied,--not a bit of it! This
was a mere beginning!
"So far Gringalet had merely endured excessive fright, been torn and
scratched by the sharp teeth and claws of Gargousse, and severely beaten
with the stick. This, however dreadful, was far from contenting
Cut-in-Half's savage nature. He therefore devised another scheme,
equally diabolical with his other proceedings. In order to enrage the
monkey still more against the unhappy boy, who by this time was more
dead than alive, he seized Gringalet by the hair of his head, and, after
feigning to overwhelm him with blows, he pushed him towards the monkey,
saying, 'Tear him! Worry him!' showing Gargousse at the same time a
great lump of sheep's heart, as much as to say, Do as I bid you, and
here is your reward.
"And then began a fearful sight! Just imagine a huge red ape, with a
black muzzle, grinding his teeth like a mad thing, and throwing
himself, in a state of savage fury, on the poor helpless object of his
cruelty, who, unable to defend himself, had no other means of preserving
his face and eyes from being torn to pieces than by throwing himself
down on the ground, flat on his face. Seeing this, Gargousse, wrought up
by his master to a state of frenzied hatred against poor Gringalet,
bestrode him as he lay on the ground, seized him by the neck, and bit
him on the back of his head till the blood came. 'Oh, the spider! The
spider I dreamed of!' cried poor Gringalet, firmly believing now that he
should be devoured. All at once a noise was heard at the gate that
opened from the lane into the yard. Knock! knock! knock!"
"Ha, ha!" exclaimed all the prisoners at once. "How delightful! 'Tis Le
Doyen come to set the boy free! Oh, tell us if it was not!"
"Yes, my good friends, you have guessed right; it was Le Doyen, and he
cried out, 'Now then, Cut-in-Half, will you open the door or no? Don't
pretend to be deaf; I see you through the keyhole.' The exhibitor of
beasts was obliged to answer, and went grumblingly along to open the
gate for Le Doyen, who was a regular brick of a man, as strong and
sturdy as a mountain for all his age, and, moreover, he was one of those
persons with whose displeasure it was anything but safe to trifle.
'Well, what do you want with me?' asked Cut-in-Half, half opening the
yard door. 'I have something to say to you,' answered Le Doyen, entering
almost forcibly into the little courtyard. Then observing the savage
conduct of the monkey, he ran towards him, seized him by the scruff of
the neck, and sought to fling him to the other end of the yard; but
perceiving that the boy and the animal were chained together, Le Doyen
cast a stern and fearful glance on Cut-in-Half, as he called out in a
severe tone, 'Let this unfortunate child loose directly!' Only conceive
the joyful surprise experienced by Gringalet, who, nearly dead with
terror, found himself so unexpectedly preserved, and by means which
seemed to him so miraculous that he could not help turning his eyes on
his preserver, with a recollection of the golden-winged fly he had seen
in his dream, though he saw merely a stout, square-built, elderly
gentleman, looking more like a creature of earth than air."
"Well, now then," said the officer on duty, "now that Gringalet is safe,
I will go and take my soup."
"Safe!" exclaimed Pique-Vinaigre, "not a bit of it! Bless you, poor
little Gringalet has not got to the worst of his troubles yet."
"No?" cried several prisoners, with the deepest interest. "No; hasn't
he, though?"
"But what else happened to him then?" inquired the officer.
"Wait a bit and you'll hear," answered the story-teller.
"What a fellow that Pique-Vinaigre is!" cried the officer; "he makes you
do just as he pleases! Well, I'll stay a little longer, at any rate!"
The Skeleton spoke not, but he actually foamed with rage, as
Pique-Vinaigre thus continued his recital:
"Cut-in-Half, who feared Le Doyen as the devil fears holy water, had, in
a grumbling manner, unfastened the chain from Gringalet's waist, which
done, Le Doyen tossed Gargousse up in the air, and when he fell to the
ground he gave him so desperate a kick in his ribs that he sent him
rolling ten feet off. The monkey screamed with passion, chattered, and
ground his teeth with rage; then, fearing a repetition of the rough
usage he had experienced, scampered away, and, climbing to the roof of a
small shed, manifested his hatred of Le Doyen by a variety of
threatening gestures. 'What do you mean by ill-using my monkey?'
inquired Cut-in-Half of Le Doyen. 'You ought rather to ask me why I do
not beat you instead of your spiteful beast there; for shame! Thus to
torture and ill-use a poor helpless boy! Is it possible you can be drunk
at this early hour of the morning?' 'I am no more drunk than you are! I
was teaching my monkey a trick I wish him to learn. I want to get up a
scene between Gringalet and my monkey. I attend to my business, and I
only wish other people would do the same, and not trouble themselves
with what does not concern them.' 'And I tell you that I have a right to
interfere in the present case, and that it is my duty so to do. This
morning when I missed Gringalet from among the other children who passed
by my window, I inquired of them where he was. They did not make me any
answer, but hung down their heads, and seemed confused. I know you,
therefore suspected the boy was kept back for some bad purpose, and it
seems I was not mistaken.
"'Now, just listen to me. Every day that I do not see Gringalet pass my
door with the other lads, I will come here to know the reason, whether
you like it or not; and what's more, you shall produce him alive and
well, or--or--or--I'll--I'll knock you down!' 'I shall do precisely as I
please with the boy, without asking your leave,' answered Cut-in-Half,
excessively irritated by this threat of keeping him under surveillance;
'you'll just please to keep your hands to yourself; and if you do not
take yourself off, and if ever you presume to show your face here again,
I'll--I'll--' 'Take that, then, as an earnest of the future!' cried Le
Doyen, interrupting Cut-in-Half by a couple of blows heavy enough to
knock down a rhinoceros; 'you deserve that and more, too, for presuming
to answer Le Doyen of La Petite Pologne in so impertinent a manner.'"
"O Lord! Lord!" groaned forth the man in the blue cap, "only two blows!
I wish I had had the handling of him. He should have had a round dozen
to begin with, and afterwards I would have knocked all his teeth down
his throat!"
"As far as strength went," continued Pique-Vinaigre, "Le Doyen could
have killed and eaten a score of such fellows as the beast-master, so
Cut-in-Half was compelled to pocket the affront. But he was not the less
incensed at being struck in the presence of Gringalet, and well did he
promise himself to be richly avenged for the indignity he had sustained;
and an idea suddenly suggested itself to him, which could only have
originated in the mind of a fiend of malice like himself. While he was
meditating on his diabolical scheme, Le Doyen said, 'Bear in mind that
if you torment this poor boy any more I will just make you and your
menagerie turn out and quit La Petite Pologne, or I will bring the whole
neighbourhood to pull your house about your ears. You know very well how
universally you are hated already, and you may rest assured you will
have such an escort to conduct you hence as shall leave you marks enough
on your back to serve as a remembrancer of your parting, let you live as
long as you may, that I promise you!'
"Like a treacherous, mean-spirited wretch as he was, Cut-in-Half, the
better to effect his villainous design, instead of quarrelling further
with Le Doyen, feigned to submit to his decision, and replied, in a
false, wheedling tone, 'You were wrong to strike me, my worthy
neighbour, or to imagine I had any intention of harming Gringalet; on
the contrary, I tell you again I was merely teaching my monkey a new
trick; he is rather awkward when he is put out in any way, and, while
trying to manage him, the boy got a few trifling bites, which I very
much regret.' 'Humph!' said Le Doyen, casting a scrutinising look on
him; 'now is this all gospel you are telling me? And why, if you only
wished to teach a thing to your monkey, did you fasten him to
Gringalet?' 'Because the boy has to learn the trick as well as the
animal. Now this is what I want to do,--to dress up Gargousse in a red
coat and a hat with a feather in it, like a barber, and then Gringalet
is to sit in a little chair, with a cloth tucked under his chin, while
the monkey affects to shave him with a large wooden razor.' The joke
appeared so very droll to Le Doyen that he could not forbear laughing.
'Isn't that a funny idea?' inquired Cut-in-Half, in a crafty and
malicious manner. 'Why, upon my word,' answered Le Doyen, 'it does
strike me as a very amusing device, and one which, I doubt not, your
monkey would carry into execution most admirably, that is, if he be as
clever and skilful in imitation as he is represented.' 'Oh, bless you!'
continued Cut-in-Half, 'when he has seen me for five or six times make
believe to shave Gringalet, he will imitate me exactly with his large
wooden razor; but for that purpose it is absolutely necessary he should
become habituated to the boy, and that was my reason for fastening them
both together.' 'But why did you select Gringalet more than any other of
your boys?' 'Because he was the least among 'em, so that, you see, when
he sat down the monkey was the taller of the two.
"'To be sure I had another reason besides, M. le Doyen, although I know
a man oughtn't to own such a thing as making a difference with his boys,
but, for all that, I'll own the truth, whatever comes of it, and that
is, that I made choice of this here little chap because I meant to give
half the profits from the performance to whoever it was acted the scene
with the animal, because I knew, in course, it was disagreeable.'
'Well,' said Le Doyen, completely gulled by this false and hypocritical
manner of accounting for the conduct which had first attracted his
displeasure,--'well, if such be the case, I can only say, I'm very sorry
I gave you such a very hard thump; however, it does not matter, just
consider it as "paid on account," so that--' While Cut-in-Half was
talking with Le Doyen, poor little Gringalet durst scarcely breathe,--he
trembled like an aspen leaf, and, though dying with eagerness to throw
himself at the feet of Le Doyen, and to supplicate of him to take him
away from his cruel master, he had not courage to make the attempt, and
in a low despairing voice he murmured to himself, 'I shall be like the
poor fly I dreamed about, and the horrid spider will eat me up; it was
folly of me to expect that any golden fly would come to save me!'
"'Come, my lad, since your master means to let you share his profits,
you ought to try and get used to acting with the monkey; never mind
being tied to him, he won't hurt you, I dare say, and then, you know,
when you have earned a large sum of money by doing this trick with him,
you will have nothing to complain of.' 'Complain, indeed!' exclaimed his
master, giving him at the same time a side-look that froze poor
Gringalet's blood, 'what should he know of complaining? Now then, speak
up, and tell this worthy gentleman whether you ever have had anything to
complain of.' 'Come, let's hear all about it,--have you any cause of
complaint, you are asked?' 'No--no--master,' stammered out the unhappy
child. 'You hear what he says?' said Cut-in-Half, turning to Le Doyen,
'he never has had anything to complain of. No; I should rather think
not! Why, bless you, I was only thinking of his good when I tied him to
the monkey, and if he has got a bit of a scratch from Gargousse, why,
I'll take care it does not happen again. The monkey is just a little
awkward at first, but I'll see to it for the future,--take my word for
it, it won't happen again.' 'That's all right, then, and now everybody's
satisfied, are they not?' 'Gringalet is, most especially; are you not,
my fine fellow?' asked Cut-in-Half, casting a savage glance on the poor
child. 'Yes--yes--master,' sobbed forth the wretched boy. 'And I'll tell
you what I'll do further, to make up for the scratches you have got from
the monkey, I'll let you share in a good breakfast I meant to order
from our worthy Doyen's excellent larder; I intend having a dish of
mutton-chops and pickles, four bottles of wine, and a pint of brandy.'
'Much obliged to you,' answered Le Doyen; 'all shall be sent as you
desire. Few men have a better cellar or more tempting larder, and the
contents of both are at the service of all who can pay for them.'
"Le Doyen was not a bad sort of a man, but it must be remembered that he
had his living to get, and, therefore, so that he disposed of his
eatables and drinkables at a sufficient profit, he cared but little who
it was in that case,--friend or foe were quite alike to him. The beggar,
Cut-in-Half, knew well enough where his weak side lay, so he hit upon
this method of getting rid of him, in high good humour at having by his
visit not only ascertained the safety of Gringalet, but also obtained a
good order. And now was the unfortunate child thrown into the hands of
his master, past all hopes of safety; for no sooner had Le Doyen turned
his back than Cut-in-Half, pointing to the staircase with a dreadful
frown, bade the trembling lad betake himself to his garret without loss
of time; and the frightened child, glad at any rate to be freed from the
monkey and his master, did not require a second bidding, but made off as
fast as his strength permitted him. When Gringalet reached his own
wretched chamber, he threw himself on the dirty straw allotted him for a
bed beside his tortoise, and wept as though his heart were breaking. 'He
will surely kill me!' cried the miserable boy, as he reflected on the
cruelty of his master and his own inability to escape from him. 'What
shall I do? Oh, how I wish I were dead and in my grave!' Thus he
remained sobbing and lamenting for more than an hour, when he was roused
by hearing the coarse voice of Cut-in-Half calling upon him to descend.
And the terror of the boy was still further increased by discovering a
considerable alteration in the rough tones of his master. 'Now, then!'
roared out the brutal man, with a torrent of oaths, 'are you coming
down, or must I fetch you?' The unhappy child almost slid down the
ladder in his haste to descend, but scarcely had he reached the bottom
than Cut-in-Half seized hold of him, and dragged him to his own room,
stumbling at every step he took; for the fellow had been drinking so
hard that he could scarcely stand on his legs, while his body swung to
and fro like the sails of a windmill.
"Almost bereft by extreme intoxication of the power of speech, he
continued to gaze on the shrinking child with eyes full of dreadful
meaning, though his tongue was unable to declare the murderous designs
he meditated. Never had the poor boy endured such horror at the sight of
his master. Gargousse was chained as usual to the foot of the bed, and
in the middle of the room stood a chair, from the back of which hung a
strong cord. 'S--s--sit down--there!' cried the tyrant, as he pointed to
the seat. Gringalet obeyed in silence, and Cut-in-Half, without another
word, twisted the rope around him, and finally secured him in the chair
so firmly that, even if poor Gringalet had dared to struggle, it would
have been impossible for him to have extricated himself. 'Great and good
God!' murmured the wretched child, 'this time no one will come to
deliver me from my danger!' And the poor little fellow was right, for,
indeed, it was utterly impossible, and for this reason, that no sooner
had Le Doyen gone away with the idea of all being comfortably arranged
between the boy and his master than Cut-in-Half hastened to double-lock
and bolt the entrance to his premises, so that no person could gain
admission without his knowledge."
"Oh, poor little Gringalet!" exclaimed all the prisoners, deeply excited
by the recital, "it's all up with him, that's quite sure."
"I'd give my last franc-piece to get him out of the hands of that
blackguard--that I would!" cried a multitude of voices, as though one
unanimous sympathy actuated each breast.
"I wonder what that beggar of a Cut-in-Half is going to do with the poor
little chap!" added they, in almost breathless interest; "come, push on,
and let's hear."
Pique-Vinaigre continued:
"When Gringalet was well secured in the chair, his master said to him"
(and here the narrator imitated most naturally the thick speech and
stammering tones of a drunken man): 'Ah--you scoundrel!--you--you are
the--cause of--my being thrashed by Le Doyen!--you shall--die--for
it--you shall--you--young--devil!' Then he took from his pocket a
freshly sharpened razor, opened it, and seized Gringalet by the hair of
his head. At the sight of the razor the child began to weep. 'Pardon,
master! Pardon! Do not kill me!' 'Cry away, you infernal brat! You shall
not cry long!' replied Cut-in-Half. 'Golden fly, golden fly, come to my
help!' exclaimed poor Gringalet, almost mad, and remembering the dream
that had had such an effect upon him, 'for the spider is going to kill
me!' 'What!--you call--call--me a spider--do you?' said Cut-in-Half;
'for this--and--other--many other things--you shall die--die, I tell
you--but not by my hand--because that wouldn't do--and besides--they'd
"scrag" me--and so I'll say and prove that it was the ape. I have
managed it all--and so--never mind--for that's all about it!' he added,
preserving his equilibrium with the greatest difficulty. Then calling
the monkey, which, at the end of his chain, was grinning and looking at
his master and the boy, 'Here, Gargousse,' he said, pointing to the
razor, and then to Gringalet, whom he had seized by the hair of his
head, 'do so to him;' and then drawing the back of the razor several
times over Gringalet's throat, he feigned to cut his throat. The devil
of a monkey was such a close imitator--so wicked and so sly--that he
understood what his master desired, and as if to prove to him that he
did so, he took his chin in his left paw, put his head back, and, with
his right paw, pretended to cut his throat. 'That's it,
Gargousse--that's it!' said Cut-in-Half, stammering, with his eyes half
closed, and staggering so much that he almost fell with Gringalet and
the chair. 'Yes, that's it! I'll unfas--unfasten you, and you'll slice
his weasand--won't you, Gargousse?' The ape shrieked as he ground his
teeth, as much as to say yes, and put out his paw as if to take the
razor that Cut-in-Half handed to him. 'Golden fly, come to my rescue!'
murmured Gringalet, in a faint voice, and assured that his last hour was
come. Alas! he called the golden fly without any hopes of its coming to
his rescue; he did so as a drowning man exclaims, '_Mon Dieu! mon
Dieu!_' Yet at this very moment Gringalet saw enter into the room one of
those small gold and green flies, which look like a spangle of gold
flying and flitting around and about; and at the very moment when
Cut-in-Half was going to give the razor to Gargousse, the gold fly went
plump into the eye of this horrible ruffian. A fly in the eye is no
great thing, but at the moment it hurts like the prick of a pin, and
thus Cut-in-Half, who could scarcely support himself, raised his hand to
his eye so suddenly that he staggered and fell at full length, rolling
on the ground like a log to the foot of the bed, to which Gargousse was
fastened. 'Golden fly, many thanks! You have saved me!' cried Gringalet,
who, seated and fastened to the chair, had observed all."
"_Ma foi!_ It really was true, then, and the golden fly prevented his
having his throat cut," exclaimed the prisoners, overjoyed.
"The golden fly for ever!" cried the Blue Cap.
"Listen now," continued the story-teller, "for this is the most
beautiful and terrible of the history I had promised you. Cut-in-Half
had fallen like a lump of lead, and was so drunk that he could move no
more than a log,--he was dead drunk and perfectly senseless; but in his
fall he very nearly crushed Gargousse, and almost broke his hind paw.
You know how savage and revengeful this infernal brute was, and he still
held in his paw the razor which his master had given him to cut
Gringalet's throat. What do you suppose the animal did when he saw his
master on his back and within his reach? Why, he jumped upon him,
squatted on his breast, and whilst with one paw he pushed up his chin to
expose his neck, with the other he cut his throat as clean as a whistle,
just as Cut-in-Half had taught him to do with poor Gringalet a few
minutes before."
"Bravo, bravo! Well done!"
"Gargousse for ever!"
"The little golden fly for ever!"
"Gringalet for ever! Gargousse for ever!"
"Well, my friends, I assure you, as you shout now, so did the whole
population of La Petite Pologne shout an hour afterwards," said
Pique-Vinaigre, delighted at the success of his story and the enthusiasm
of his hearers.
"In what way?"
"I told you that, in order to complete his wicked purpose at his ease,
the vagabond Cut-in-Half had closed the door inside. Towards the
evening, the boys came in one after the other with their animals. The
first rapped, but no answer; then, when they had all arrived, they
knocked at the door, but no reply; so one went to find Le Doyen to tell
him how they had knocked in vain, and that their master did not open to
them. 'The fellow must be as drunk as an Englishman,' said he; 'I sent
him some wine just now. We must break open the door, for the children
cannot pass the night out-of-doors.' So they burst in the door, and then
they went up the stairs, and what should they see but Gargousse chained
and crouching on his master's body, playing with the razor! Poor
Gringalet was fortunately out of Gargousse's reach and still on the
chair, not daring to look on Cut-in-Half's body, but gazing at,--guess
what, the little golden fly, which, after having flitted round and round
the child as if to congratulate him, had, at last, come and settled on
his poor little hand.
"Gringalet related all to Le Doyen and the crowd that came in, and, as
it really appeared like the interposition of Providence, Le Doyen cried,
'A triumph for Gringalet! A triumph to Gargousse who killed the infamous
Cut-in-Half! He cut others, it was his turn to be cut himself.' 'Yes,
yes,' cried the assembled mob, for the beast-shower was universally
detested, 'a triumph to Gargousse! A triumph for Gringalet!' It was
night, and they lighted straw torches, fastened Gargousse to a bench,
which four chaps carried on their shoulders; and the blackguard of an
ape seemed as if he felt his consequence, and gave himself the airs of a
conquering hero, by showing his teeth to the multitude. After the ape
came Le Doyen, carrying Gringalet in his arms; then all the little
fellows, each carrying his beast, followed him, one with his fox,
another his marmotte, another his guinea-pig; and those who played on
the hurdy-gurdy played now; then there were the charcoal-sellers who had
their bells, and there was such an uproar, such joy, such a fete as can
be scarcely imagined. Behind the musicians and animal-showers came all
the dwellers in La Petite Pologne, men, women, and children, all holding
straw torches, and halloaing like mad, 'Vive Gringalet! Vive Gargousse!'
The procession advanced in this way around the place in which
Cut-in-Half dwelt. It was a very singular sight to see the old buildings
lighted up by the red light of the straw torches, which flared and
flared. As to Gringalet, the first thing he did when he was at liberty
was to put the little golden fly in a paper bag, and he exclaimed during
his triumph, 'Little flies, I did very right in preventing the spiders
from eating you, for--'"
Pique-Vinaigre was interrupted by a voice from without, exclaiming:
"Pere Roussel, come to your soup; it only wants ten minutes to four!"
"_Ma foi!_ The story is nearly finished, and I must go. Many thanks, my
lad, you have amused me very much, and that you may tell everybody,"
said the superintendent to Pique-Vinaigre, going to the door; then
pausing, "Mind and be quiet," he said, turning towards the prisoners.
"We shall hear the end of the story," said the Skeleton, breathless with
suppressed rage; then, adding in a whisper to Gros-Boiteux, "Follow him
to the door, and, when you see him leave the yard, cry Gargousse, and
the informer is a dead man."
"All right," said Le Gros-Boiteux, who accompanied the guardian, and
remained at the door watching his steps as he went away.
"I tell you, then," resumed Pique-Vinaigre, "that Gringalet, during the
whole time of his triumph, said, 'Little flies, I have--'"
"Gargousse!" cried Gros-Boiteux, as the turnkey quitted the yard.
"I'm here, Gringalet, and I will be your spider!" cried the Skeleton,
instantly, and darting so suddenly on Germain that he could not make a
struggle or utter a cry. His voice expired under the tremendous gripe of
the Skeleton's iron fingers.
"If you are the spider, I'm the golden fly, Skeleton of evil," cried a
voice, at the moment when Germain, surprised at the violent and sudden
attack of his implacable enemy, had fallen back on the bench entirely at
the mercy of the ruffian, who, with his knee on his breast, held him by
the neck. "Yes, I will be the fly, and a fly of the right sort!"
repeated the man in the blue cap, of whom we have already spoken, and
then, with a fierce spring, he dashed upon the Skeleton, and assailed
him on the skull and between his eyes with a shower of blows from his
fist, so tremendous that it sounded like the noise of a smith's hammer
ringing on an anvil.
[Illustration: "_The Skeleton Staggered at First_"
Original Etching by Marcel]
The man in the blue cap, who was no other than the Chourineur, added, as
he redoubled the quickness of his hammering on the Skeleton's head:
"It is the shower of blows which M. Rodolph drummed on my sconce, and I
have recollected them."
At this unexpected assault the prisoners were all struck with surprise,
and did not take part either for or against the Chourineur. Several of
them, still under the influence of the salutary impression made on them
by Pique-Vinaigre's story, were even glad of an event which saved
Germain. The Skeleton staggered at first, and, reeling like an ox under
the butcher's poleaxe, mechanically extended his hands to try and ward
off his adversary's blows, and Germain, thus freed from the deadly
clutch of the Skeleton, half raised himself.
"What does this mean? Who is this scoundrel?" exclaimed Le Gros-Boiteux,
and, rushing at the Chourineur, he endeavoured to seize his arms from
behind, whilst the latter was making violent efforts to keep the
Skeleton down on the bench. Germain's defender replied to Le
Gros-Boiteux's attack by a kind of kick, so violent that it sent the
cripple rolling on the ground to the farther end of the circle formed by
the prisoners.
Germain, whose face was livid and purple, half suffocated, and on his
knees by the bench, seemed unconscious of all that was passing around
him. The strangulation had been so violent that he could scarcely
breathe.
After his first surprise was over, the Skeleton, by a desperate effort,
contrived to keep the Chourineur off and regain his feet. Breathless,
drunk with rage and hatred, he was fearful to look upon. His cadaverous
face streamed with blood, his upper lip curled like that of a furious
wolf, exposed his teeth clenched against each other. At last he
exclaimed, in a voice palpitating with anger and exertion, for his
struggle had been very violent:
"Stab him,--the ruffian!--you cowards, who let me be traitorously
attacked, or the informer will escape!"
During this momentary truce, the Chourineur, raising Germain half
fainting, had managed very cleverly to put him in an angle of the wall,
and, availing himself of this advantageous position of defence, he was
able, without fear of surprise from behind, to resist any attack of the
prisoners, on whom the skill and herculean powers he had displayed had
imposed considerable respect.
Pique-Vinaigre, greatly alarmed, had disappeared without his absence
being remarked.
Seeing hesitation amongst the majority of prisoners, the Skeleton
exclaimed:
"Aid me now, let us do for both, the big 'un as well as the little 'un!"
"Look out for squalls, then," replied the Chourineur, preparing for a
struggle, with his two hands squared, and standing well-balanced on his
loins; "and mind your eye, Skeleton! If you mean to play the
Cut-in-Half, I'll serve you as Gargousse did, and slit your weasand."
"Fall on him!" said Le Gros-Boiteux, getting up.
"Why does this vagabond defend spies? Death to the informer, and to him,
too! If he defends Germain he is a traitor!"
"Yes, yes, death to the spy! Death!"
"Yes, and death to the traitor who defends him!"
Such were the cries uttered by the fiercest of the _detenus_. Another
party, more merciful, exclaimed:
"No, let's hear him first!"
"Yes, let him explain; we mustn't kill a man without a hearing!"
"And without means of defence, too! Must we be Cut-in-Halfs?"
"So much the better!" replied the Skeleton's partisans.
"Nothing's too bad for a spy!"
"Let's fall on him! Let us support the Skeleton!"
"Yes, let's at the Blue Cap!"
"No, let's support the Blue Cap, and let's at the Skeleton!" retorted
the Chourineur's party.
"No, down with the Blue Cap!"
"Down with the Skeleton!"
"Well done, my boys!" cried the Chourineur, addressing the prisoners who
sided with him. "You're good fellows, and would not massacre a half dead
man; none but cowards would do that. The Skeleton does not care what
evil he does; he is sentenced beforehand, and that is why he urges you
on; but if you help to kill Germain, you will be severely punished for
it. Besides, I have something to propose. The Skeleton is desirous of
doing for this young man; well, let him come and take him if he thinks
he has the pluck to do it; let us two settle it; leave us to ourselves,
and see what turns up. But he's afraid; he's like Cut-in-Half, only
strong with the weak."
The vigour, energy, and rough manner of the Chourineur had powerful
effect on the prisoners, and a considerable number of them had ranged
themselves on his side, and surrounded Germain, whilst the Skeleton's
party drew around that ruffian. A bloody fray would have ensued, when
there was heard in the yard the sonorous and measured tread of a piquet
of infantry, always on guard in the prison. Pique-Vinaigre, profiting by
the general stir and noise, had gained the yard, and, having knocked at
the wicket of the entrance, had told the turnkeys what was passing in
the day-room. The arrival of the soldiers put an end to this scene.
Germain, the Skeleton, and the Chourineur were taken before the
governor of La Force; the first to make his complaint, the two others to
answer for creating a disturbance inside the gaol.
The fright and suffering of Germain had been so great, his weakness so
extreme, that he was obliged to lean on two of the turnkeys, in order to
reach a chamber next to the governor's room. There he was very ill. His
neck, excoriated as it was, bore the livid and bleeding imprint of the
Skeleton's iron grasp; a few minutes more, and Rigolette's betrothed
would have been strangled. The turnkey, who had taken an interest in
Germain, gave him first assistance. When he had recovered, his first
thought was of his deliverer.
"Thanks for your kind cares, sir," he said to the turnkey. "But for that
brave man, I must have been killed. Where is he?"
"In the governor's room, telling him how the disturbance arose. It
appears that but for him--"
"I must have been killed. Oh, tell me his name! Who is he?"
"His name I do not know, but they call him the Chourineur; he is an old
offender."
"And is his crime now very serious?"
"Very; burglary in the night in an inhabited house," replied the
turnkey. "He will probably have a similar dose to Pique-Vinaigre,
fifteen or twenty years of hard labour."
Germain shuddered; he would have preferred being bound by gratitude to a
man less criminal.
"How dreadful!" he said. "And yet this man without knowing me defended
me; such courage, such generosity!"
"Ah, these men have sometimes a touch of good! The main point is that
you are saved. To-morrow you will have your private cell, and to-night
you will sleep in the infirmary. So, courage, sir. The bad time is over;
and when your pretty little visitor comes to see you, you can comfort
her, for once in a cell you have nothing to fear; only you will do
wisely, I think, not to tell her of this affair."
"Certainly not; but I should like to thank my defender."
"I have just been leaving the governor, who will now interrogate the
Skeleton, and I shall take them both, the Skeleton to his dungeon
directly, and the Chourineur to the Fosse aux Lions; he will be,
besides, somewhat rewarded for what he has done for you; as he is a
determined and stout fellow, he will probably replace the Skeleton as
captain of the ward."
The Chourineur, having crossed a small passage from the governor's
apartment, entered the room in which Germain was.
"Wait for me here," said the turnkey to the Chourineur. "I will go and
ask the governor what he decides upon as to the Skeleton, and I will
return and let you know. Our young man has quite recovered, and wishes
to thank you, and so he should, for otherwise it would have been all
over with him." And the turnkey went out.
The Chourineur's countenance was very joyous, and he advanced towards
Germain, saying, with a cheerful air:
"Thunder! How glad I am! How glad I saved you!" and he extended his hand
to Germain, who, by a feeling of involuntary repulsion, withdrew
somewhat, instead of taking the hand which the Chourineur offered to
him; then, remembering that he owed his life to this man, he was
desirous of repairing this display of repugnance. But the Chourineur
perceived it; his features became overcast, and, retreating in his turn,
he said, with bitter sorrow, "Oh, it is right; your pardon, sir!"
"No, it is I who ought to ask your pardon; am I not a prisoner like
yourself? Ought I not to think of the service you have rendered me? You
have saved my life. Your hand, sir, I beg--I entreat--your hand!"
"Thanks; but it is useless now. The first feeling is everything. If you
had directly given me a grasp of the hand, it would have afforded me
pleasure, but, when I reflect, I would not desire it. Not because I am a
prisoner like you," he added, with a sombre and hesitating air,
"because, before I came here, I have been--"
"The turnkey told me all," said Germain, interrupting him; "but yet you
saved my life."
"I have done no more than my duty and pleasure, for I know who you
are--Monsieur Germain."
"You know me!"
"A little, my lad," said the Chourineur, resuming his usual tone of
habitual carelessness; "and, _pardieu!_ you would have been very wrong
to have attributed my arrival at La Force to chance. If I had not known
you, I should not have been in prison."
Germain looked at the Chourineur with amazement.
"What! It was because you knew me?"
"That I am here a prisoner in La Force."
"I, who owe you--"
"A candle to the Virgin, for having procured me the advantage of being
in La Force."
"Really," said Germain, passing his hand over his brow. "I do not know
whether the terrible shock I have just undergone has weakened my senses,
but it is impossible for me to understand you. The turnkey told me you
were here under a charge of--of--" said Germain, with hesitation.
"Robbery, _pardieu_! And robbery with forcible entry, and moreover at
night; nothing could be more complete!" cried the Chourineur, with a
hearty laugh.
Germain, painfully excited at the bold hardihood of the Chourineur,
could not forbear saying to him:
"What, you, so brave, so generous, and speak in this way! Are you not
aware of the terrible punishment to which you are exposed?"
"Twenty years at the galleys; I know that. I am an out-and-out
scoundrel, I know that, for taking it so easy. But what's the use when
one has been and done it? And then, for me to say that it was you, M.
Germain," added the Chourineur, heaving a tremendous sigh, and with an
air of assumed contrition, "who are the cause of my misfortune."
"When you explain yourself more clearly, I shall understand you. Just as
much as you please, but my gratitude for the service you have rendered
me will never cease or diminish," added Germain, sorrowfully.
"Oh, pardon me, M. Germain!" replied the Chourineur, becoming serious.
"You do not like to see me laugh at this; do not let us add another
word. I must let all out with you, and so, perhaps, force you to shake
my hand."
"I have no doubt of that; for, in spite of the crime of which you are
accused, and of which you accuse yourself, all in you bespeaks so much
courage and frankness that I am convinced you are charged unjustly;
strong suspicions may exist, but I am sure that is all."
"Oh, as to that you are mistaken, M. Germain!" said the Chourineur,
hastily; "on my word as a man, and as true as I have a protector,"--the
Chourineur took off his cap,--"who is more than all the world to me, I
robbed at night by forcing the shutter, and was caught in the fact and
deprived of all I was endeavouring to carry off."
"But want--hunger--pushed you to such an extremity?"
"Hunger! I had one hundred and twenty francs when they apprehended me,
the remains of a note of one thousand francs, without including the
protector I have mentioned to you, who, by the way, does not know that I
am here, but will not let me want for anything. Since, however, I have
mentioned him to you, you must suppose I am in earnest, for you must
know that he is a man to go on your knees before. So I must tell you,
too, that the shower of blows which I drummed on the Skeleton's sconce
was a sketch after his style, copied from nature. The idea of the
robbery was on his account; and, in fact, if you were not strangled by
the Skeleton, it is through him."
"But this protector?"
"Is yours also."
"Mine!"
"Yes, M. Rodolph protects you. When I say monsieur, I should say
monseigneur, for he is at least a prince; but I have a habit of calling
him M. Rodolph, which he permits me to do."
"You are under some mistake," said Germain, more and more surprised; "I
do not know the prince."
"Yes, but he knows you. You don't believe it? Well, that's possible, for
that's his way. He knows that there is some worthy fellow in trouble,
and then, in an instant, the good fellow is comforted, and, without
being seen or known, he is at work, and kindness falls from the skies,
like a tile from a house on your head. So patience, and one day or other
you will have your tile."
"Really, what you say amazes me!"
"Ah, you'll have a great deal more to amaze you yet! To return to my
protector: Some time ago, after a service which he persisted I had done
him, he procured me a splendid position, I need not say where, or any
more about it, for it would be a long tale to tell. Well, he sends me to
Marseilles to embark and go to a capital appointment in Algeria. I left
Paris as happy as a child; but, all of a sudden, a change comes over
me."
"That was singular!"
"Why, you must know that once separated from M. Rodolph I was uneasy,
disturbed, as fidgety as a dog who has lost his master. It was very
stupid; but so are dogs, sometimes, but that does not prevent them from
being at least attached, and as well mindful of the nice bits given them
as of the thumps and kicks they have had, and M. Rodolph had given me
many nice bits, and, in truth, M. Rodolph is everything to me. From
being a riotous, dare-devil, good-for-nothing blackguard, he made an
honest man of me by only saying two words, just for all the world like
magic."
"What were the words he said?"
"He said I had still heart and honour, although I have been at the
galleys, not for having stolen, it is true,--ah, never that,--but what
perhaps is worse, for having killed,--yes," said the Chourineur, in a
gloomy tone, "killed in a moment of passion, because formerly growing up
like a brute beast, or, rather, as a vagabond, without father or mother,
and left abandoned in the streets of Paris, I knew neither God nor
devil--neither good nor evil. Sometimes the blood mounted to my eyes,
and I saw red, and if I had a knife in my hands I slashed and hacked,--I
was a real savage--a beast, and only lived amongst thieves and
scoundrels. I was in the mud, and in the mud I lived as well as I could.
But when M. Rodolph said to me that since, in spite of the contempt of
all the world and my misery, instead of plundering like others I had
preferred working as long as I could, and for what I could, that showed
I had still heart and honour--thunder!--you see these two words had the
same effect on me as if I had been seized by the hair of my head and
lifted a thousand feet into the air above the vermin with whom I dwelt,
and showed me the filth in which my life was spent. So I said, 'Thank
ye, I've had enough of this!' Then my heart beat with something else
besides anger, and I took an oath to myself always to preserve that
honour which M. Rodolph spoke of. You see, M. Germain, that when M.
Rodolph told me so kindly that I was not so bad as I believed myself to
be, that encouraged me, and, thanks to him, I became better than I had
been."
When he heard this language, Germain comprehended less and less how the
Chourineur had committed the robbery of which he accused himself.
"No," he said to himself, "it is impossible; the man who was so exalted
at the two words honour and heart cannot have committed the robbery of
which he talks with so much self-complacency."
The Chourineur continued, without remarking the astonishment of Germain:
"To say the truth, what made me be like a dog to his master to M.
Rodolph was that he raised me in my own opinion. Before I knew him I
never felt but on my skin, but he moved me inwardly, and to the bottom
of my heart. Once away from him and the place he inhabited, I felt like
a body without a soul. In proportion as I proceeded farther I said to
myself, 'He leads such a strange life,--mixes with such scamps (I can
answer for that), that he risks his body twenty times a day, and, under
some such circumstances, I may be his dog and defend my master, for I am
strong in the jaws;' but then he had said to me,'My good fellow, you
must become useful to others, therefore go where you can be
serviceable.' I was very nearly replying, 'I have no one to serve but
you, M. Rodolph,' but I daredn't. He said to me, 'Go,' and I went, and
have gone as far as I could; but, thunder! when I ought to have gone on
board the ship, left France, and put the sea between M. Rodolph and
myself, I had not the courage. He had desired his correspondent to give
me a great lump of money when I sailed, so I went to the gentleman, and
said to him, 'Sir, I can't do it--I'd rather do anything, so please to
give me enough to pay my journey on foot; I have good legs, and I will
return to Paris, for I cannot leave France. M. Rodolph will be angry,
and, perhaps, refuse to see me,--that's possible; but I shall see him,
know where he is, and if he goes on as usual, sooner or later I may,
perhaps, arrive in time to come between him and a stab with a knife; and
then I really cannot go so far away from him! Something I cannot account
for attracts me to his side.' Well, they gave me sufficient to pay my
way, and I reached Paris. Then I really was frightened. What could I say
to M. Rodolph to excuse myself? But, after all, he would not eat me up;
so I went to find his friend, a tall, bald-headed man, but a right sort
of fellow as ever broke bread. When I saw M. Murphy, I said,'Now my fate
will be decided;' and my throat was dry, and my heart beat such a pace!
I expected to catch it pretty handsomely, but, what d'ye think? Why, the
worthy gentleman received me just as if we had only parted the previous
evening, and told me that M. Rodolph, instead of being angry, wished to
see me as soon as possible. Well, so I went at once to my
protector,--him with such a stout fist and good heart,--and when I was
face to face with him he who is as terrible as a lion and as gentle as a
child--he who is a prince, and yet puts on a blouse like me--and once on
a time (I bless the day, or night, rather) laid on me such a shower of
blows that I saw nothing but fire, why, M. Germain, when I reflected on
all the agreeable qualities he is master of, I felt completely overcome,
and I snivelled like a woman. Well, instead of laughing at me, for I
must be a rum-looking lot when I pipe my eye, M. Rodolph said to me,
seriously, 'Here you are back again, my good fellow, eh?' 'Yes, M.
Rodolph, and pray excuse me if I have done wrong, but I could not help
it. Give me some corner in your courtyard, give me a crust and a glass,
or let me earn it here,--that's all I ask, and pray don't be angry with
me for coming back.' 'So far from it, my man, you have come back just in
time to do me a service.' 'I, M. Rodolph? Is that possible? Well, there
must have been something above, for if not, how could I explain how it
was I must come back here at the very moment when you wanted me? What
can I do for you, M. Rodolph?' 'An honest, worthy young man, in whom I
take the interest I should do in a son, has been unjustly accused of
robbery, and is a prisoner in La Force. His name is Germain; he is of a
gentle, quiet disposition. The wretches with whom he is confined have
conceived a great aversion for him, and he is in great danger. You
unfortunately have known what a prison life is, and a great many
prisoners; could not you, in case there may be any of your old
companions in La Force (we will find that out), go and see them, and, by
promises of money, which shall be duly performed, induce them to protect
this unfortunate young man?'"
"But who can this generous and unknown man be, who takes so much
interest in my fate?" asked Germain, more and more surprised.
"You will learn, perhaps, hereafter,--as for me, I do not know. To
return to my conversation with M. Rodolph. Whilst he was speaking to me
there came an idea into my head, so curious, so whimsical, that I could
not forbear laughing outright before him. 'What is it, my lad?' said he.
'Why, M. Rodolph, I laugh because I am so happy, and I am happy because
I have the means of putting your M. Germain quite safe from any ill-will
on the part of the prisoners, of giving him a protector who will defend
him boldly, for when once the young fellow is under the care of the man
I mean, not one will dare look at him impertinently.' 'Very good--one of
your old comrades, no doubt?' 'Exactly so, M. Rodolph; he has been in La
Force some days, that I know. But I must have some money.' 'How much
shall you require,--a note for a thousand francs? Here it is.' 'Thank
ye, M. Rodolph; in two days you will have some news.'"
"I begin to understand, or, rather, I'm afraid to understand," exclaimed
Germain. "To come and protect me in this prison you have, perhaps,
committed a robbery? Oh, what remorse will beset all my life!"
"Hold hard! M. Rodolph had said I had heart and honour,---these words
are my law, you must know; and he may still say it to me, for if I am
no better than I was before, at least I am no worse."
"But this robbery, if you have not committed it, why are you here?"
"Listen! There is a capital joke with my thousand francs, I bought
myself a black wig, shaved my whiskers, put on blue spectacles, bent my
head on one side, and made up my back as if it were humped, and then
went in search of two apartments to let, on the ground floor, in a
bustling part of the city. I found what I looked for in the Rue de
Provence, and paid a month in advance, under the name of M. Gregoire.
Next day I went to the Temple to buy furniture for my two rooms, with my
black wig, my hump, and blue glasses, so that I might be easily
recognised. Well, I sent the goods to the Rue de Provence, and,
moreover, six silver spoons, which I bought in the Boulevard St. Denis,
still disguised with my hump. I returned then to arrange all my affairs
in my residence. I told the porter I should not sleep there until the
following night, and took away my key. The windows of the two rooms were
closed with strong shutters. Before I went away I had purposely left one
with the bolt undrawn. The night came, and I put off my wig, my
spectacles, my hump, and the clothes in which I had made my purchases
and hired my apartments, putting this suit in a portmanteau, which I
forwarded to M. Murphy, M. Rodolph's friend, begging him to take care of
it for me. I then bought this blouse, and the blue cotton cap, and a bar
of iron two feet long; and at one o'clock in the morning I went into the
Rue de Provence, where I lurked about before my lodging, awaiting the
moment when the patrol would pass and prevent my robbing
myself,--committing a burglary on my own premises, in order to be caught
and apprehended."
And the Chourineur burst into a fit of hearty laughter.
"I begin to understand," cried Germain.
"But I was nearly getting in a 'fix,' for no patrol passed. I might have
robbed myself twenty times with the greatest ease and safety. At last,
about two o'clock in the morning, I heard the tread of the soldier boys,
and then I pushed open the window, jumped into the room, pocketed the
silver spoons and some other trifles. Fortunately the lively patrol had
heard the smash of the windows, and just as I leaped out of the window
they laid hands upon me. They knocked at the door, which the porter
opened, they sent for the sergeant of police, who came. The porter told
him that the two rooms had been hired that morning by a humpbacked
gentleman, with black hair and blue spectacles, whose name was Gregoire.
I had the thick head of hair which you now see, and my eyes were as wide
open as a hare's on the watch, was as upright as a Russian sentinel, and
could not be taken for a humpbacked gentleman, with blue glasses and
black hair. I confessed all, and was conducted to the station, and from
the station to this prison, where I arrived in the nick of time to
snatch from the clutch of the Skeleton the young man of whom M. Rodolph
had said to me, 'I am interested in him as much as if he were my own
son.'"
"What do I not owe you for such devotion?"
"Not to me,--you owe it to M. Rodolph."
"But whence arises his interest in me?"
"That is for him to tell you, or, perhaps, he will not tell you, for he
very often chooses to do good, and if you ask him why, he will not let
you know."
"M. Rodolph, then, knows you are here?"
"I'm not such a fool as to tell him my plans; perhaps he would not have
consented to my whim, and, really, I must say it was capital."
"But what risks you have run,--indeed, still run."
"Oh, what risk? I might not have been brought to La Force,--that was the
worst risk,--but I relied on M. Rodolph's interest to have my prison
changed, so that I might have got to you."
"But at your trial?"
"Well, I shall beg M. Murphy to send me the portmanteau. Before the
judge I shall appear in my black wig, blue spectacles, and hump, and
shall be again M. Gregoire for the porter who let me the chambers and
the tradespeople who sold me the goods. So much for the robbery. If they
wish to see the thief again, I'll put off my suit, and then it will be
as clear as daylight that the robber and the robbed together only make a
total of the Chourineur and no more. And what the devil would you expect
when it is proved that I robbed myself?"
"Why, indeed," said Germain, more assured; "but since you take so much
interest in me, why did you not speak to me when you came first into the
prison?"
"I knew instantly of the scheme against you by the prisoners, and I
might have denounced them before Pique-Vinaigre began or ended his
story; but to denounce such ruffians did not suit my ideas,--I preferred
trusting only to my fist in order to snatch you from the clutch of the
Skeleton; and when I saw that scoundrel I said to myself, 'This is a
fine opportunity for putting in practice that shower of blows to which I
owe the honour of M. Rodolph's acquaintance.'"
"But if all the prisoners had taken part against you, alone, what could
you have done?"
"Why, then, I should have shrieked like an eagle and called lustily for
help. But I preferred having my little affair all to myself, that I
might be able to say to M. Rodolph, 'I was all alone in the matter. I
have defended and will defend your friend,--be easy on that subject.'"
At this moment the turnkey suddenly returned to the apartment.
"Monsieur Germain, go to the governor; he wishes to speak to you
immediately. And you, Chourineur, go down into the Fosse-aux-Lions; you
are to be _prevot_, if you like, for you have all the qualifications for
that duty, and the prisoners will not joke with a man of your sort."
"It is all the same to me, I'd as soon be captain as private."
"Will you refuse my hand now?" said Germain, cordially.
"_Ma foi!_ no, M. Germain! I'll shake hands with all my heart."
"We shall see one another again, for I am now under your protection. I
shall have nothing more to fear, and shall, therefore, come down every
day from my cell into the yard."
"Make yourself quite easy on that score. But now I think of it, write a
line to M. Rodolph, who will then no longer be uneasy about you, and
will also learn that I am here for a good reason, for if he were to hear
that I had committed a robbery, and did not know all the real
facts,--thunder! That would not do by any means."
"Make your mind easy. I will write this very evening to my unknown
protector. Once more, good-bye, and thanks most heartily, my worthy
friend."
"Good-bye, M. Germain. I must return to those scoundrels, and I'll make
them go right; if not, let them look out for squalls!"
"When I reflect that it is on my account that you must remain some time
longer with these wretches--"
"What consequence is that? There is no fear of their turning on me;" and
the Chourineur followed the turnkey.
Germain went to the governor. What was his surprise to find Rigolette
there! pale, agitated, and her eyes bathed in tears; and yet smiling
through her tears, her countenance expressing unutterable happiness.
"I have good news for you, sir," said the governor to Germain; "justice
has declared that no prosecution can be instituted against you; and in
consequence of the withdrawing of this, and explanations that have taken
place, I have received an order to set you at liberty immediately."
"Sir! What do you say? Can it be possible?"
Rigolette tried to speak, but her extreme emotion prevented her, and she
could only make an affirmative sign to Germain with her head, and clasp
her hands.
"Mademoiselle arrived a few minutes after I had received the order to
set you at liberty," added the governor. "A very powerful letter of
recommendation which she brought to me informed me of the touching
devotion she had shown to you in prison; and it is with extreme pleasure
that I sent for you, certain that you will be very happy to offer your
arm to mademoiselle, and lead her hence."
"A dream! It must be a dream!" said Germain. "Ah, sir, how can I thank
you? Excuse my astonishment,--joy prevents me from thanking you as I
ought."
"And I, too, M. Germain,--I cannot find a word to say," said Rigolette;
"only imagine my delight when I left you on finding the friend of M.
Rodolph, who was waiting for me."
"Again M. Rodolph!" exclaimed Germain, astonished.
"Yes, and M. Murphy said to me, 'Germain is free--here is a letter for
the governor of the prison; when you arrive there he will have received
the order for Germain's release, and you may take him away with you.' I
could not believe what I heard, and yet it was true. Well, as quick as
possible, I took a hackney-coach, and came here; it is waiting for us at
the gate."
We will not attempt to paint the delight of the two lovers when they
quitted La Force, and the evening they passed together in Rigolette's
small apartment, which Germain quitted at eleven o'clock to go to a
humble furnished room.
END OF VOLUME V.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
This e-text was prepared from numbered edition 505 of the 1000 printed.
Minor punctuation and capitalization corrections have been made without
comment.
Minor typographical errors of single words, otherwise spelled correctly
throughout the text have been made without comment.
Word Variations appearing in the original text which have been retained:
"pocket-book" (1) and "pocketbook" (3)
"protege" (2) and "protegee" (3)
Words using the [oe] ligature, which have been herein represented as
"oe": "Croesus."
Throughout the text, illustrations and their captions were placed on
facing pages. For the purpose of this e-text these pages have been
combined into one entry.
Footnotes, originally at the bottom of a printed page, have been placed
directly below the paragraph in which their anchor symbol appears.