"I am the silk merchant," he continued pretty audibly, but with a
suspicious glance behind him. "Probably you have--"
Again I signed to him that I could not hear.
"You have heard of me?"
"From M. Gringuet?" I said very loudly.
"Yes," he answered in a similar tone; for, aware that deaf persons
cannot hear their own voices and are seldom able to judge how loudly
they are speaking, I had led him to this. "And I suppose that you will
do as he did?"
"How?" I asked. "In what way?"
He touched his pocket with a stealthy gesture, unseen by the people
behind him.
Again I made a sign as if I could not hear.
"Take the usual little gift?" he said, finding himself compelled to
speak.
"I cannot hear a word," I bellowed. By this time the crowd were
shaking with laughter.
"Accept the usual gift?" he said, his fat, pale face perspiring, and
his little pig's eyes regarding me balefully.
"And let you pay one quarter?" I said.
"Yes," he answered.
But this, and the simplicity with which he said it, drew so loud a roar
of laughter from the crowd as penetrated even to his dulled senses.
Turning abruptly, as if a bee had stung him, he found the place
convulsed with merriment; and perceiving, in an instant, that I had
played upon him, though he could not understand how or why, he glared
about him a moment, muttered something which I could not catch, and
staggered away with the gait of a drunken man.
After this, it was useless to suppose that I could amuse myself with
others. The crowd, which had never dreamed of such a tax-collector,
and could scarcely believe either eyes or ears, hesitated to come
forward even to pay; and I was considering what I should do next, when
a commotion in one corner of the square drew my eyes to that quarter.
I looked and saw at first only Curtin. Then, the crowd dividing and
making way for him, I perceived that he had the real Gringuet with
him--Gringuet, who rode through the market with an air of grim majesty,
with one foot in a huge slipper and eyes glaring with ill-temper.
Doubtless Curtin, going to him on the chance of hearing something of
the rogue who had cheated him, had apprised the tax-collector of the
whole matter; for on seeing me in my chair of state, he merely grinned
in a vicious way, and cried to the nearest not to let me escape. "We
have lost one rogue, but we will hang the other," he said. And while
the townsfolk stood dumbfounded round us, he slipped with a groan from
his horse, and bade his two servants seize me.
"And do you," he called to the host, "see that you help, my man! You
have harboured him, and you shall pay for it if he escapes."
With that he hopped a step nearer; and then, not dreaming of
resistance, sank with another groan--for his foot was immensely swollen
by the journey--into the chair from which I had risen.
A glance showed me that, if I would not be drawn into an unseemly
brawl, I must act; and meeting Maignan's eager eye fixed upon my face,
I nodded. In a second he seized the unsuspecting Gringuet by the neck,
snatched him up from the chair, and flung him half-a-dozen paces away.
"Lie there," he cried, "you insolent rascal! Who told you to sit before
your betters?"
The violence of the action, and Maignan's heat, were such that the
nearest drew back affrighted; and even Gringuet's servants recoiled,
while the market people gasped with astonishment. But I knew that the
respite would last a moment only, and I stood forward. "Arrest that
man," I said, pointing to the collector, who was grovelling on the
ground, nursing his foot and shrieking foul threats at us.
In a second my two men stood over him. "In the King's name," La Trape
cried; "let no man interfere."
"Raise him up," I continued, "and set him before me; and Curtin also,
and Fonvelle, and Philippon; and Lescaut, the corn-dealer, if he is
here."
I spoke boldly, but I felt some misgiving. So mighty, however, is the
habit of command, that the crowd, far from resisting, thrust forward
the men I named. Still, I could not count on this obedience, and it
was with pleasure that I saw at this moment, as I looked over the heads
of the crowd, a body of horsemen entering the square. They halted an
instant, looking at the unusual concourse; while the townsfolk,
interrupted in the middle of the drama, knew not which way to stare.
Then Boisrueil, seeing me, and that I was holding some sort of court,
spurred his horse through the press, and saluted me.
"Let half-a-dozen of your varlets dismount and guard these men," I
said; "and do you, you rogue," I continued, addressing Gringuet,
"answer me, and tell me the truth. How much does each of these knaves
give you to cheat the King, and your master? Curtin first. How much
does he give you?"
"My lord," he answered, pale and shaking, yet with a mutinous gleam in
his eyes, "I have a right to know first before whom I stand."
"Enough," I thundered, "that it is before one who has the right to
question you! answer me, villain, and be quick. What is the sum of
Curtin's bribe?"
He stood white and mute.
"Fonvelle's?"
Still he stood silent, glaring with the devil in his eyes; while the
other men whimpered and protested their innocence, and the crowd stared
as if they could never see enough.
"Philippon's?"
"I take no bribes," he muttered.
"Lescaut's?"
"Not a denier."
"Liar!" I exclaimed. "Liar, who devour widows' houses and poor men's
corn! Who grind the weak and say it is the King; and let the rich go
free. Answer me, and answer the truth. How much do these men give
you?"
"Nothing," he said defiantly.
"Very well," I answered; "then I will have the list. It is in your
shoe."
"I have no list," he said, beginning to tremble.
"It is in your shoe," I repeated, pointing to his gouty foot. "Maignan,
off with his shoe, and look in it."
Disregarding his shrieks of pain, they tore it off and looked in it.
There was no list.
"Off with his stocking," I said roundly.
"It is there."
He flung himself down at that, cursing and protesting by turns. But I
remembered the trampled corn, and the girl's bleeding face, and I was
inexorable. The stocking was drawn off, not too tenderly, and turned
inside out. Still no list was found.
"He has it," I persisted. "We have tried the shoe and we have tried
the stocking, now we must try the foot. Fetch a stirrup-leather, and
do you hold him, and let one of the grooms give him a dozen on that
foot."
But at that he gave way; he flung himself on his knees, screaming for
mercy.
"The list!" I said,
"I have no list! I have none!" he wailed.
"Then give it me out of your head. Curtin, how much?"
He glanced at the man I named, and shivered, and for a moment was
silent. But one of the grooms approaching with the stirrup-leather, he
found his voice. "Forty crowns," he muttered.
"Fonvelle?"
"The same."
I made him confess also the sums which he had received from Lescaut and
Philippon, and then the names of seven others who had been in the habit
of bribing him. Satisfied that he had so far told the truth, I bade
him put on his stocking and shoe. "And now," I said to Boisrueil, when
this was done, "take him to the whipping-post there, and tie him up;
and see that each man of the eleven gives him a stripe for every crown
with which he has bribed him--and good ones, or I will have them tied
up in his place. Do you hear, you rascals?" I continued to the
trembling culprits. "Off, and do your duty, or I will have your backs
bare."
But the wretch, as cowardly as he had been cruel, flung himself down
and crawled, sobbing and crying, to my feet. I had no mercy, however.
"Take him away," I said, "It is such men as these give kings a bad
name. Take him away, and see you flay him well."
He sprang up then, forgetting his gout, and made a frantic attempt to
escape. But in a moment he was overcome, hauled away, and tied up; and
though I did not wait to see the sentence carried out, but entered the
inn, the shrill screams he uttered under the punishment reached me,
even there, and satisfied me that Fonvelle and his fellows were not;
holding their hands.
It is a sad reflection, however, that for one such sinner brought to
justice ten, who commit the same crimes, go free, and flourishing on
iniquity, bring the King's service, and his officers, into evil repute.