MADAME ACQUET
Seclusion, isolation and trouble had in no way softened the Marquise de
Combray's harsh nature. From the very first day, this woman, accustomed
to living in a château, had accommodated herself to the life of a
prisoner without abating anything of her haughty and despotic character.
Her very illusions remained intact. She imagined that from her cell she
still directed her confederates and agents, whom she considered one and
all as servants, never suspecting that the permission to write letters,
of which she made such bad use, was only a trap set for her ingenuous
vanity. In less than a month she had written more than a hundred letters
to her fellow-prisoners, which all passed through Licquet's hands. To
one she dictated the answers he was to give, to another she counselled
silence,--setting herself up to be an absolute judge of what they ought
to say or to hold back, being quite unable to imagine that any of these
unhappy people might prefer life to the pleasure of obeying her. She
would have treated as a liar any one, be he who he might, who affirmed
that all her accomplices had deserted her, that Soyer had hastened to
disclose the secret hiding-places at Tournebut, that Mlle. Querey had
told all about what she had seen, that Lanoë pestered Caffarelli with
his incessant revelations, and that Lefebre, whom nothing but prudence
kept silent, was very near telling all he knew to save his own head.
The Marquise was ignorant of all these defections. Licquet had created
such an artificial atmosphere around her that she lived under the
delusion that she was as important as before. Convinced that nobody was
her equal in finesse and authority, she considered the detective
sufficiently clever to deal with a person of humble position, but
believed that as soon as she cared to trouble herself to bring it about,
he would become entirely devoted to her. And Licquet, with his almost
genial skilfulness, so easily fathomed the Marquise's proud soul--was
such a perfect actor in the way he stood before her, spoke to her, and
looked at her with an air of submissive admiration,--that it was no
wonder she thought he was ready to serve her; and as she was not the
sort of woman to use any discretion with a man of his class, she
immediately despatched the turnkey to offer him the sum of 12,000
francs, half down, if he would consent to promote her interests. Licquet
appeared very grateful, very much honoured, accepted the money, which he
put in the coffers of the prefecture, and the very same day read a
letter in which Mme. de Combray informed her accomplices of the great
news: "We have the little secretary under our thumb."
Ah! what great talks Licquet and the prisoner had, now they had become
friends. From the very first conversation he satisfied himself that she
did not know Mme. Acquet's hiding-place; but the lawyer Lefebre, who
had at last ceased to be dumb, had not concealed the fact that it might
be learned through a laundress at Falaise named Mme. Chauvel, and
Licquet immediately informed Mme. de Combray of this fact and
represented to her, in a friendly manner, the danger in which her
daughter's arrest would involve her, and insinuated that the only hope
of security lay in the escape to England of Mme. Acquet, "on whose head
the government had set a price."
The idea pleased the Marquise; but who would undertake to discover the
fugitive and arrange for her embarcation? Whom dared she trust, in her
desperate situation? Licquet seemed the very one; he, however, excused
himself, saying that a faithful man, carrying a letter from Mme. de
Combray, would do as well, and the Marquise never doubted that her
daughter would blindly follow her advice--supported by a sufficient sum
of money to live abroad while awaiting better days. It remained to find
the faithful man. The Marquise only knew of one, who, quite recently, at
her request, had consented to go and look for the yellow horse, which he
had killed and skinned, and who, she said, had acquitted himself so
cleverly of his mission. She was never tired of praising this worthy
fellow, who only existed, as every one knew, in her own imagination; she
admitted that she did not know him personally, but had corresponded with
him through the medium of the woman Delaitre, who had been placed near
her; but she knew that he was the woman's husband, captain of a boat at
Saint Valery-en-Caux, and, in addition, a relation of poor Raoul
Gaillard, whom the Marquise remembered even in her own troubles.
Licquet listened quite seriously while his victim detailed the history
of this fictitious person whom he himself had invented; he assured her
that the choice was a wise one, for he had known Delaitre for a long
time as a man whose loyalty was beyond all doubt. As there could be no
question of introducing him into the prison, Licquet kindly undertook to
acquaint him with the service expected of him, and to give him the three
letters which Mme. de Combray was to write immediately. The first, which
was very confidential, was addressed to the good Delaitre himself; the
second was to be handed, at the moment of going on board, to Maugé, a
lawyer at Valery, who was to provide the necessary money for the
fugitive's existence in England; the third accredited Delaitre to Mme.
Acquet. The Marquise ordered her daughter to follow the honest Captain,
whom she represented as a tried friend; she begged her, in her own
interest and that of all their friends, to leave the country without
losing a day; and she concluded by saying that in the event of her
obeying immediately, she would provide generously for all her wants;
then she signed and handed the three letters to Licquet, overwhelming
him with protestations of gratitude.
All the detective had to do was to procure a false Delaitre, since the
real did not exist. They selected an intelligent man, of suitable
bearing, and making out a detailed passport, despatched him to Falaise,
armed with the Marquise's letters, to have an interview with the
laundress. Five days later he returned to Rouen. The Chauvels, on seeing
Mme. de Combray's letters, quite unsuspectingly gave the messenger a
warm welcome. The gendarme, however, did not approve of the idea of
crossing to England. Mme. Acquet, he said, was very well hidden in Caen,
and nobody suspected where she was. What was the use of exposing her to
the risk of embarking at a well watched port. But as Delaitre insisted,
saying that he had a commission from Mme. de Combray which he must carry
out, Chauvel, whose duty kept him at Falaise, arranged to meet the
Captain at Caen on the 2d of October. He wished to present him himself
to Mme. Acquet, and to help his mistress in this matter on which her
future depended. Thus it was that on the 1st of October, Licquet, now
sure of success, put the false Captain Delaitre in the coach leaving for
Caen, having given him as assistants, a nephew of the same name and a
servant, both carefully chosen from amongst the wiliest of his
assistants. The next day the three spies got out at the Hôtel du Pare in
the Faubourg de Vaucelles at Caen, which Chauvel had fixed as the
meeting-place, and whither he had promised to bring Mme. Acquet.
Six weeks previously, when quitting Falaise on the 23d August, after the
examination to which Caffarelli had subjected her, Mme. Acquet, still
ignorant of her mother's arrest, had proposed going to Tournebut, in
order to hide there for some time before starting for Paris, where she
hoped to find Le Chevalier. She had with her her third daughter,
Céline, a child of six years, whom she counted on getting rid of by
placing her at the school kept at Rouen by the ladies Dusaussay, where
the two elder girls already were. They were accompanied by Chauvel's
sister, a woman named Normand.
She went first to Caen where she was to take the diligence, and lodged
with Bessin at the Coupe d'Or in the Rue Saint-Pierre. Chauvel came
there the following day to say good-bye to his friend and they dined
together. While they were at table, a man, whom the gendarme did not
know, entered the room and said a few words to Mme. Acquet, who went
into the adjoining room with him. It was Lemarchand, the innkeeper at
Louvigny, Allain's host and friend. Chauvel grew anxious at this private
conversation, and seeing the time of the diligence was approaching,
opened the door and warned Mme. Acquet that she must get ready to start.
To his great surprise, she replied that she was no longer going, as
important interests detained her in Caen. She begged him to escort the
woman Normand and the little girl to the coach, and gave him the address
of a lawyer in Rouen with whom the child could be left. The gendarme
obeyed, and when he went back to the Coupe d'Or an hour later, his
mistress had left. He returned sadly to Falaise.
Lemarchand, who had been informed of Mme. Acquet's journey, came to tell
her, from Allain, that "a lodging had been found for her where she would
be secure, and that, if she did not wish to go, she had only to come to
the Promenade Saint-Julien at nightfall, and some one would meet her and
escort her to her new hiding-place." It may well be that a threat of
denouncing her, if she left the country, was added to this obliging
offer. At any rate she was made to defer her journey. Towards ten
o'clock at night, according to Lemarchand's advice, she reached the
Promenade Saint-Julien alone, walked up and down under the trees for
some time, and seeing two men seated on a bench, she went and sat down
beside them. At first they eyed each other without saying a word; at
last, one of the strangers asked her if she were not waiting for some
one. Upon her answering in the affirmative they conferred for a moment,
and then gave their names. They were the lawyer Vannier and Bureau de
Placène, two intimate friends of Le Chevalier's. Mme. Acquet, in her
turn, mentioned her name, and Vannier offering her his arm, escorted her
to his house in the Rue Saint-Martin.
They held a council next day at breakfast. Lemarchand, Vannier, and
Bureau de Placène appeared very anxious to keep Mme. Acquet. She was,
they said, sure of not being punished as long as she did not quit the
department of Calvados. Neither the prefect nor the magistrates would
trouble to enquire into the affair, and all the gentry of Lower Normandy
had declared for the family of Combray, which was, moreover, connected
with all the nobility in the district. Such were the ostensible reasons
which the three confederates put forth, their real reason was only a
question of money. They imagined that Mme. Acquet had the free disposal
of the treasure buried at the Buquets, which amounted to more than
40,000 francs. Finding her ready to rejoin Le Chevalier, and persuaded
that she would carry the remainder of this stolen money to her lover,
they thought it well to stop her and the money, to which they believed
they had a right--Lemarchand as Allain's friend and creditor, Placène in
his capacity of cashier to the Chouans. The lawyer Vannier, as
liquidator of Le Chevalier's debts, had offered to keep Mme. Acquet
prisoner until they had succeeded in extorting the whole sum from her.
The life led by the unhappy woman at Vannier's, where she was a prey to
this trio of scoundrels, was a purgatory of humiliations and misery.
When the lawyer understood that not only did his prisoner not possess a
single sou, but that she could not dispose of the Buquets' treasure, he
flew into a violent passion and plainly threatened to give her up to the
police; he even reproached her "for what she eat," swearing that somehow
or other "he would make her pay board, for he certainly was not going to
feed her free of cost." The unhappy woman, who had spent her last louis
in paying for the seat in the Rouen diligence, which she had not
occupied, wrote to Lefebre early in September, begging him to send her a
little money. He had received a large share of the plunder and might at
least have shown himself generous; but he replied coolly that he could
do nothing for her; and that she had better apply to Joseph Buquet.
This was exactly what they wished her to do. Vannier himself brutally
advised her to try going to Donnay, even at the risk of being arrested,
in order to bring back some money from there; and Lemarchand, rather
than lose sight of her, resolved to accompany her.
Mme. Acquet, worn out and reduced to a state of subjection, consented to
everything that was demanded of her. Dressed as a beggar, she took the
road to Donnay where formerly she had ruled as sovereign mistress; she
saw again the long avenues at the end of which the façade of the
château, imposing still despite its decay, commanded a view of the three
terraces of the park; she walked along by the walls to reach the
Buquets' cottage where Joseph, who was hiding in the neighbouring woods,
occasionally returned to watch over his treasure. She surprised him
there on this particular day, and implored him to come to her assistance
but the peasant was inflexible; she obtained, however, the sum of one
hundred and fifty francs, which he counted out to her in twelve-sou
pieces and copper money. On the evening of her return to Caen Mme.
Acquet faithfully made over the money to Vannier, reserving only fifteen
francs for her trouble; moreover, she was obliged to submit to her
host's obscene allusions as to the means she had employed to extort this
ridiculous sum from Buquet. She bore everything unmoved; her
indifference resembled stupefaction; she no longer appeared conscious of
the horrors of her situation or the dangers to which she was exposed.
Her happiest days were spent in walks round the town with Chauvel with
whom she arranged meetings and who used to come from Falaise to pass a
few hours with her; they went to a neighbouring village, dined there,
and returned to the town at dusk.
Allain, too, showed some interest in her. He was hiding in the
neighbourhood of Caen, and sometimes came in the evening to confer with
Vannier in company with Bureau de Placène and a lawyer named Robert
Langelley with whom her host had business dealings. They were all
equally needed, and spent their time in planning means to make Joseph
Buquet disgorge. Allain proposed only one plan, and it was adopted. Mme.
Acquet was to go to Donnay again and try to soften the peasant; if he
refused to show where the money was hidden, Allain was to spring on him
and strangle him.
They set out from Caen one morning, about the 25th of September. Mme.
Acquet had arranged to meet Joseph at the house of a farmer named
Halbout, which was situated at some distance from the village of Donnay.
He came at the appointed hour; but as he was approaching carefully,
fearing an ambuscade, he caught sight of Allain hiding behind a hedge,
and taking fright made off as fast as his legs could carry him.
They had to go back to Caen empty-handed and face the anger of Vannier,
who accused his lodger of complicity with the Buquets to make their
attempts miscarry. A fresh council was held, and this time Chauvel was
admitted; he too, had a plan. This was that he and Mallet, one of his
comrades, should go to Donnay in uniform; Langelley was to play the
part of commissary of police. "They were to arrest Buquet on the part of
the government; if he consented to say where the money was, he was to be
given his liberty, and the address of a safe hiding-place; in case of
his refusing, the police were to kill him, and they would then be free
to draw up a report of contumacy."
The Marquise de Combray's daughter was present at these conferences,
meek and resigned, her heart heavy at the thought that this wretched
money would become the prey of these men who had had none of the trouble
and who would have all the profit. Every day she sank deeper and deeper
into this quagmire; the plots that were hatched there, the things she
heard--for they showed no reserve before her--were horrible. As she
represented 40,000 francs to these ruffians, she had to endure not only
their brutal gallantries, but also their confidences. "Mme. Placène one
day suggested the enforced disappearance of the baker Lerouge," says
Bornet, as he was "very religious and a very good man," she was afraid
that if he were arrested, "he would not consent to lie, and would ruin
them all." Langelley specially feared the garrulity of Flierlé and
Lanoë, in prison at Caen, and he was trying to get them poisoned. He had
already made an arrangement "with the chemist and the prison doctor,
whom he had under his thumb," and he also knew a man who "for a small
sum, would create a disturbance in the town, allow himself to be
arrested and condemned to a few months' imprisonment, and would thus
find a way of getting rid of these individuals." They also spoke of
Acquet, who was still in jail at Caen. In everybody's opinion Mme.
Vannier was his mistress, and went to see him every day in his cell. He
was supposed to be a government spy, and Placène pretended that Vannier
received money from him to keep him informed of Mme. Acquet's doings.
Langelley, for his part, said that Placène was a rogue and that if "he
had already got his share of the plunder, he received at least as much
again from the police."
The poor woman who formed the pivot of these intrigues was not spared by
her unworthy accomplices. Having in mind Joseph Buquet and Chauvel, they
all suspected one another of having been her lovers. Vannier had thus
made her pay for her hospitality; Langelley and the gendarme Mallet
himself, had exacted the same price--accusations it was as impossible as
it was useless to refute. She herself well knew her own abasement, and
at times disgust seized her. On the evening of September 27th, she did
not return to Vannier's; escaping from this hell, she craved shelter
from a lacemaker named Adélaïde Monderard, who lodged in the Rue du Han,
and who was Langelley's mistress. The girl consented to take her in and
gave her up one of the two rooms which formed her lodgings, and which
were reached by a very dark staircase. It was a poor room under the
roof, lighted by two small casements, the furniture being of the
shabbiest. Chauvel came to see her there the following day, and there it
was that she learnt of the expected arrival of Captain Delaitre, sent
by Mme. de Combray to save her, and secure her the means of going to
England. Mme. Acquet manifested neither regret nor joy. She was
astonished that her mother should think of her; but it seems that she
did not attach great importance to this incident, which was to decide
her fate. A single idea possessed her: how to find a retreat which would
allow of her escaping from Vannier's hateful guardianship; and
Langelley, who was very surprised at finding her at the lacemaker's,
seeing her perplexity offered to escort her to a country house, about a
league from the town, where his father lived. She set out with him that
very evening; at the same hour the false Captain Delaitre left Rouen,
and the ruse so cleverly planned by Licquet, put an end to Mme. Acquet's
lamentable adventures.
Arriving at the Hôtel du Pare on October 2d, "Captain" Delaitre went to
the window of his room and saw a man hurrying down the street with a
very small woman on his arm, very poorly dressed. From his walk he
recognised Chauvel dressed as a bourgeois; the woman was Mme. Acquet.
The two men bowed, and Chauvel leaving his companion, went up to the
Captain's room. "There were compliments, handshakes, the utmost
confidence, as is usual between a soldier and a sailor." Chauvel
explained that he had walked from Falaise that afternoon, and that in
order to get off, he had pretended to his chiefs that private business
took him to Bayonne. The false Delaitre immediately handed him Mme. de
Combray's two letters which Chauvel read absently.
"Let us go down," he said; "the lady is near and awaits us."
They met her a few steps farther down the road in company with
Langelley, whom Chauvel introduced to Delaitre. The latter immediately
offered his arm to Mme. Acquet: Chauvel, Langelley and the "nephew
Delaitre" followed at some distance. They passed the bridge and walked
along by the river under the trees of the great promenade, talking all
the time. It was now quite dark.
Captain Delaitre "after having given Mme. Acquet her mother's
compliments, informed her of the latter's intentions concerning her
going to England or the isles." But the young woman flatly rejected the
proposal; she was, she said, "quite safe with her friend's father,
within reach of all her relations, and she would never consent to leave
Caen, where she had numerous and devoted protectors." The Captain
objected that this determination was all the more to be regretted since
"the powerful personage who was interesting himself in the fate of his
own people, demanded that she should have quitted France, before he
began to seek Mme. de Combray's release." To which Mme. Acquet replied
that she should never alter her decision.
The discussion lasted about half an hour. The Captain having mentioned a
letter of Mme. de Combray's of which he was the bearer, Mme. Acquet
turned to Langelley and asked him to escort her to an inn, where she
might read it. They crossed the bridge following Langelley up the Rue de
Vaucelles, and stopped at an inn situated about a hundred yards above
the Hôtel du Pare. Mme. Acquet and her companions entered the narrow
passage and went up-stairs to a room on the first floor, where they
seated themselves at a table, and Langelley ordered wine and biscuits.
The young woman took the Marquise's letter from the Captain's hands; all
those around her were silent and watched attentively. They noticed that
"she changed colour at every line and sighed."
"When do you start?" she asked Delaitre, wiping her eyes.
"Very early to-morrow," he replied.
She heaved another great sigh and began to read again. She became very
nervous, and seemed about to faint. When she had finished the letter,
she questioned Delaitre anew.
"You know for certain, sir, what this letter contains?"
"Yes, Madame; your mother read it to me."
She was silent for "more than two minutes"; then she said as if she were
making a great effort:
"One must obey one's mother's orders. Well, Monsieur, I will go with
you. Will you not wait till to-morrow evening?"
Captain Delaitre at first demurred at the idea of deferring his journey;
but at last their departure was fixed for the following day, October 3d,
at nightfall. A heated discussion ensued. Langelley noticed that
Vannier, Allain, Placène and the others did not approve of Mme.
Acquet's decision. They were all certain that she ran not the slightest
risk by remaining in Caen, inasmuch as there would never be a judge to
prosecute nor a tribunal to condemn her. Delaitre replied that it was
precisely to guard against the indulgence of the Calvados authorities,
that an imperial decree had laid the affair before the special court at
Rouen; but the lawyer who could not see his last chance of laying hands
on the Buquets' treasure disappear without feeling some annoyance,
replied that nothing must be decided without the advice of their
friends. The young woman ended the discussion by declaring that she was
going "because it was her mother's wish."
"Are you sure," asked Chauvel, "that that really is your mother's
writing?"
She answered yes, and the gendarme said that in his opinion she was
right to obey.
They then settled the details of the departure. Langelley offered to
conduct the travellers to the borders of the department of Calvados,
which Delaitre knew very slightly. Mme. Acquet was to take no luggage.
Her clothes were to be forwarded to her, care of the Captain, at the
Rouen office. The conversation took a "tone of the sincerest friendship
and the greatest confidence." When the hour for separating came, Mme.
Acquet pressed the Captain's hand several times, saying, "Till
to-morrow, then, Monsieur." And as she went down the stairs Chauvel
remained behind with Delaitre, to make sure that the latter had brought
money to pay the small debts which the fugitive had incurred with the
tradesmen.
Towards eleven on the following morning Chauvel presented himself at the
inn alone. He went up at once to Delaitre's room who asked him to lunch
and sent his nephew out to get oysters. Chauvel had come to beg Delaitre
to put off his journey another day, as Mme. Acquet could not start
before Sunday, the 4th. While they were at lunch Chauvel became quite
confidential. He could not see his friend go away without regret; he
alone, he said, had served her from pure devotion. He told how, in order
to put off his comrades, who had been charged by Manginot to draw up a
description of the fugitive, he had intentionally made it out
incorrectly, describing her "as being very stout and having fair hair."
He talked of d'Aché whom he considered a brigand and "the sole cause of
all the misfortunes which had happened to Mme. de Combray and her
family." Finally he inquired if the Captain would consent to take Buquet
and Allain to England as they were in fact two of the principal actors
in the affair, and the Captain consented very willingly. It was agreed
that as soon as he had landed Mme. Acquet in England, he should return
to Saint-Valery which was his port. All Allain and Buquet had to do, was
to go to Privost, the innkeeper, opposite the post at Cany on Wednesday,
the 14th, and he would meet them and take them on board.
During luncheon Delaitre, who was obviously a messenger of Providence,
counted out 400 francs in gold on the table, and gave them to Chauvel
to pay his mistress's debts.
Vannier had claimed six louis for the hospitality he had shown her,
alleging that "this sort of lodger ought to pay more than the others on
account of the risk;" he further demanded that the cost of twenty
masses, which Mme. Acquet had had said, should be refunded to him.
Chauvel spent part of the Sunday with Delaitre; the meeting was fixed
for seven in the evening. The Captain was to wait at the door of his inn
and follow Mme. Acquet when he saw her pass with the gendarme. She only
appeared at ten at night, and they walked separately as far as
Vaucelles. Langelley kept them waiting, but he arrived at last on a
borrowed horse; the Captain had got a post-horse; as for the nephew,
Delaitre, and the servant, they had gone back the evening before to
Rouen.
The time had come to say good-bye. Mme. Acquet embraced Chauvel who
parted from her "in the tenderest manner, enjoining Delaitre to take the
greatest care of the precious object confided to him." Langelley, armed
with a club for a riding whip, placed himself at the head of the
cavalcade, Delaitre warmly wrapping Mme. Acquet in his cloak, took her
up behind him, and with renewed good wishes, warm handshakes, and sad
"au revoirs" the horsemen set off at a trot on the road to Dives.
Chauvel saw them disappear in the mist, but he waited at the deserted
crossroads as long as he could hear the clatter of their horses' hoofs
on the road.
They arrived at Dives about three in the morning. The young woman, who
had seemed very lively, protested that she was not tired, and refused to
get off. Therefore Langelley alone entered the post-house, woke up the
guide he had engaged the day before, and they continued their journey.
The day was breaking when they arrived at Annebault; the three travelers
halted at an inn where they spent the whole day; the lawyer and Mme.
Acquet settled their little accounts. They slept a little, they talked a
great deal, and spent a long time over dinner. At six in the evening
they mounted their horses again and took the road to Pont-l'Evêque.
Langelley escorted the fugitives as far as the forest of Touques: before
leaving Mme. Acquet, he asked her for a lock of her hair; he then
embraced her several times.
It was nearly midnight when the young woman found herself alone with
Delaitre. The horse advanced with difficulty along the forest roads.
Clinging to the Captain with both arms, Mme. Acquet no longer talked;
her excitement of yesterday had given place to a kind of stupor, so that
Delaitre, who in the darkness could not see that her great dark eyes
were open, thought that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. At three
in the morning they at length arrived at the suburbs of Pont-Audemer;
the Captain stopped at the post-house and asked for a room; in the
register which was presented to him he wrote: "Monsieur Delaitre and
wife."
They were breakfasting towards noon when a non-commissioned marine
officer, accompanied by an escort of two men, entered the room. He went
straight up to Delaitre, asked his name, and observing his agitation,
called upon him to show his papers. These he took possession of after a
brief examination, and then ordered the soldiers to put Delaitre under
arrest.
The officer, an amiable and talkative little man, continually excused
himself to Mme. Acquet for the annoyance he was causing her. Captain
Delaitre, he said, had left his ship without any authority, and it had
been pointed out, moreover, that he had willingly engaged in smuggling
while pretending to be trading along the coast. He did not commit the
indiscretion of inquiring the lady's name, nor what reason she had for
scouring the country in company of a ship's captain; but he carefully
gave her to understand that she must be detained until they got to
Rouen, whither Delaitre would be escorted to receive a reprimand from
the commandant of the port. Mme. Acquet was convinced that it was
nothing but a misunderstanding which would be cleared up at Rouen, and
troubled very little about the incident; and as she was worn out with
fatigue, she expressed a wish to spend that night and the following day
at Pont-Audemer. The little officer consented with alacrity, and whilst
appearing only to keep an eye on Delaitre, he never for an instant lost
sight of the young woman, whose attitudes, gestures and appearance he
scrutinised with malicious eyes. It was Licquet, as we have already
guessed, who in his haste to know the result of the false Delaitre's
adventures, had dressed himself up in a borrowed uniform and come to
receive his new victim. He was full of forethought for her; he took her
in a carriage from Pont-Audemer to Bourg-Achard, where he allowed her to
rest. On the morning of the seventh they left Bourg-Achard and arrived
at Rouen before midday. The kindly officer was so persuasive that Mme.
Acquet offered no resistance nor recriminations when she was taken to
the Conciergerie, where she was entered under the name of Rosalie
Bourdon, doubtless the one under which she had travelled. She appeared
quite indifferent to all that went on around her. On entering this
prison, where she knew her mother was, she showed absolutely no emotion.
She remained in this state of resigned lassitude for two days. Licquet,
who came to see her several times, endeavoured to keep her under the
impression that her imprisonment had no other cause than Delaitre's
infringement of the maritime regulations; he even took the precaution of
pretending not to know her name.
Meanwhile, he laid his plans for attack. At first his joy, at capturing
the much desired prey had been so keen that he could not withstand the
pleasure of writing the news straight to Réal whom he asked to keep it
secret for a fortnight. On reflexion he realised how difficult it would
be to obtain confessions from a woman who had been so hideously
deceived, and he felt that the traps, into which the naïve Mme. de
Combray had fallen would be of no avail in her daughter's case. He had
better ones: on his person he carried the letter which Mme. de Combray
had written to her dear Delaitre, which he had taken from the Captain in
Mme. Acquet's very presence. In this letter, the Marquise had spoken of
her daughter as "the vilest of creatures, lamenting that for her own
safety she was obliged to come to the assistance of such a monster; she
especially complained of the amount of money it was costing her."
On the 9th of October, Licquet came into Mme. Acquet's cell, began to
converse familiarly with her, told her that he knew her name and showed
her Mme. de Combray's letter. On reading it Mme. Acquet flew into a
violent passion. Licquet comforted her, gave her to understand that he
was her only friend, that her mother hated her and had only helped her
in the hope of saving her own life; that the lawyer Lefebre had sold
himself to the police on giving the Chauvels' address at Falaise, in
proof of which he showed her the note written by the lawyer's own hand.
He even went so far as to allude to certain infidelities on the part of
Le Chevalier, and to the mistresses he must have had in Paris, till at
last the unhappy woman burst into tears of indignation and grief.
"Enough," she said; "it is my turn now; you must receive my declaration
immediately, and take it at once to the prefect. I will confess
everything. My life is a burden to me."
She immediately told the long story of d'Aché's plans, his journeys to
England, the organisation of the plot, the attempt to print the Prince's
manifesto, and also how he had beguiled Le Chevalier and had succeeded
in drawing him into it, by promises of high rank and great honours. She
said, too, that d'Aché whom she accused of having caused all the
unhappiness of her life, had recommended robbing the public treasury;
that the attacks on the coaches had been carried out by his orders,
which had been "to stop them all." She accused her mother of helping to
transport the booty to Caen; herself she accused of having sheltered the
brigands. The only ones she excused were Joseph Buquet, who had only
carried out her instructions, and Le Chevalier whom she represented as
beguiled by d'Aché's misleading promises. Her "frantic passion" was
apparent in every word she uttered: she even told Licquet that "if she
could save Le Chevalier's life at the cost of her own she would not
hesitate."
When she had finished her long declaration, she fell into a state of
deep depression. On entering the prison next day, Licquet found her
engaged in cutting off her magnificent hair, which, she said sadly, she
wished to save from the executioner. She observed that since she was
miserably destined to die, Chauvel, who called himself her friend, had
done very wrong in preventing her from taking poison: all would have
been over by now. But she hoped that grief would kill her before they
had time to condemn her.
As she said these words she turned her beautiful piercing eyes to a dark
corner of her cell. Licquet, following her gaze, saw a very prominent
nail sticking in the wall at a height of about six feet. Without letting
her see his anxiety, he tried to direct the prisoner's attention to
other objects, and succeeded in working her up to a state of "wild
gaiety."
That very day the nail was taken out, but there still remained the
bolts of the door and the bed-posts, to which, being of such low
stature, she could hang herself; a woman from Bicêtre was therefore set
to watch her.
It would be impossible to follow Licquet through all the phases of the
inquiry. This diabolical man seems to have possessed the gift of
ubiquity. He was in the prison where he worked upon the prisoners; at
the prefecture directing the examinations; at Caen, making inquiries
under the very nose of Caffarelli, who believed that the affair had long
since been buried; at Falaise, where he was collecting testimony; at
Honfleur, at Pont-Audemer, at Paris. He drew up innumerable reports, and
sent them to the prefect or to Réal, with whom he corresponded directly,
and when he was asked what reward he was ambitious of obtaining for his
devoted service to the State, he replied philosophically: "I do not work
for my own glory, but only for that of the police generally, and of our
dear Councillor, whom I love with all my heart. As for me, poor devil, I
am destined to remain obscure, which, I must say, pleases me, since I
recognise the inconvenience of having a reputation."
* * * * *
One of the most picturesque events of his enquiry was another journey
taken towards the end of October by the false Captain Delaitre and his
false nephew in search of Allain and Buquet, whom they had not found on
the day mentioned at the inn at Cany. At Caen Delaitre saw again the
lawyer Langelley, the Placènes and Monderard's daughter, and they
entertained him. He gave them very good news of Mme. Acquet, who, he
said, was comfortably settled at a place on the English coast; but
although he had a very important letter for Allain, which Mme. de
Combray wished him to take to England without delay, the wily Chouan did
not show himself. His daughter, who had set up as a dressmaker at Caen
and was in communication with Mme. Placène, undertook, however, to
forward the letter to him. The Captain announced his intention of
following the girl in the hope of discovering her father's retreat, but
Langelley and the others assured him that it would be a waste of time.
The young girl alone knew where the outlaw was hidden and "each time she
went to take him news, she disguised herself, entered a house, disguised
herself afresh before leaving, went into another house, changed her
costume yet again, and so on. It was impossible to be sure when she came
out of each house that it was the same person who had gone in, and to
know in which her father was." Two days later the girl reappeared. She
said that her father had gone to his own home near Cherbourg, where "he
had property." He wanted to sell his furniture and lease his land before
going to England. This was the other side of the terrible "General
Antonio." He was a good father and a small landed proprietor. Delaitre
realised that this was a defeat, and that Allain was not easily to be
beguiled. He did not persist, but packed up his traps and returned to
Rouen.
This check was all the more painful to Licquet, since he had hoped that
by attracting Allain, d'Aché would also be ensnared. Without the latter,
who was evidently the head of the conspiracy, only the inferiors could
be arraigned, and the part of the principal criminal would have to be
passed over in silence, in consequence of which the affair would sink to
the proportions of common highway robbery. Stimulated by these motives,
and still more so by his amour-propre, Licquet set out for Caen. His joy
in action was so keen that it pervades all his reports. He describes
himself as taking the coach with Delaitre, his nephew and "two or three
active henchmen." He is so sure of success that he discounts it in
advance: "I do not know," he writes to Réal, "whether I am flattering
myself too much, but I am tempted to hope that the author will be called
for at the end of the play."
It is to be regretted that we have no details of this expedition. In
what costume did Licquet appear at Caen? What personality did he assume?
How did he carry out his manoeuvres between Mme. Acquet's friends, his
confederate Delaitre and the Prefect Caffarelli, without arousing any
one's suspicion or wounding their susceptibilities? It is impossible to
disentangle this affair; he was an adept at troubling water that he
might safely fish in it, and seemed jealous to such a degree of the
means he employed, that he would not divulge the secret to any one. With
an instinctive love of mystification, he kept up during his journey an
official correspondence with his prefect and a private one with Réal.
He told one what he would not confess to the other; he wrote to
Savoye-Rollin that he was in a hurry to return to Rouen, while by the
same post he asked Réal to get him recalled to Paris during the next
twenty-four hours. "If you adopt this idea, Monsieur, you must be kind
enough to select a pretext which will not wound or even scratch any
one's amour-propre." The "any one" mentioned here is Savoye-Rollin. What
secret had Licquet discovered, that he did not dare to confide, except
orally, and then only to the Imperial Chief of Police? We believe that
we are not wrong in premising that scarcely had he arrived at Caen when
he laid hands on a witness so important, and at the same time so
difficult to manipulate, that he was himself frightened at this
unexpected _coup de théâtre_.
Whilst ferreting about in the prisons to which he had obtained access
that he might talk to Lanoë and the Buquets, he met Acquet de Férolles,
who had been forgotten there for three months. Whether Mme. de Placène
was, as Vannier suspected, employed by the police and knew Licquet's
real personality, or whether the latter found another intermediary, it
is certain that he obtained Acquet de Férolles' confidence from the
beginning, and that he got the credit of having him set at liberty. It
was after this interview that Licquet asked Réal to recall him to Paris
for twenty-four hours. His journey took place in the early days of
November, and on the 12th, on an order from Réal Acquet was rearrested
and taken in a post-chaise from Donnay to Paris, escorted by a sergeant
of police. On the 16th he was entered in the Temple gaol-book, and Réal,
who hastened to interrogate him, showed him great consideration, and
promised that his detention should not be long. A note, which is still
to be found among the papers connected with this affair, seems to
indicate that this incarceration was not of a nature to cause great
alarm to the Lord of Donnay: "M. Acquet has been taken to Paris that he
may not interfere with the proceedings against his wife.... It is known
that he is unacquainted with his wife's offence, but M. Réal believes it
necessary to keep him at a distance." That was not the tone in which the
police of that period usually spoke of their ordinary prisoners, and it
seems advisable to call attention to the fact. Let us add that the
royalists detained in the Temple were not taken in by it. M. de Revoire,
an old habitué of the prison, who spent the whole of the Imperial period
in captivity told the Combray family after the Restoration, that all the
prisoners considered Acquet "as a spy, an informer, the whole time he
was in the Temple." After a week's imprisonment and three weeks'
surveillance in Paris, he was set at liberty and returned to Donnay.
From the comparison of these facts and dates, is one not led to infer
that Licquet had persuaded Acquet without much difficulty we may be
sure, to become his wife's accuser? But the desire not to compromise
himself, and still more the dread of reprisals, shut the mouth of the
unworthy husband at Caen, eager though he was to speak in Paris,
provided that no one should suspect the part he was playing; hence this
sham imprisonment in the Temple--evidently Licquet's idea--which gave
him time to make revelations to Réal.
Whatever it may have been, this incident interrupted Licquet's journey
to Caen. He continued it towards the middle of November, quitting Rouen
on the 18th, still accompanied by Delaitre and others of his cleverest
men. This time he represented himself as an inspector of taxes, which
gave him the right of entering houses and visiting even the cellars. His
aim was to unearth Allain, Buquet and especially d'Aché, but none of
them appeared. We cannot deal with this third journey in detail, as
Licquet has kept the threads of the play secret, but from
half-confidences made to Réal, we may infer that he bought the
concurrence of Langelley and Chauvel on formal promises of immunity from
punishment; they consented to serve the detective and betray Allain, and
they were on the point of delivering him up when "fear of the Gendarme
Mallet caused everything to fail." Licquet fell back with his troop,
taking with him Chauvel, Mallet and Langelley, who were soon to be
followed by Lanoë, Vannier, Placène and all the Buquets, save Joseph,
who had not been seen again. But before starting on his return journey
to Rouen, Licquet wished to pay his respects to Count Caffarelli, the
Prefect of Calvados, in whose territory he had just been hunting. The
latter did not conceal his displeasure, and thought it strange that his
own gendarmes should be ordered to proceed with criminal cases and to
make arrests of which they neglected even to inform him. Licquet states
that after "looking black at him, Caffarelli laughed till he cried" over
the stories of the false Captain Delaitre and the false inspector of
taxes. It is probable that the story was well told; but the Prefect of
Calvados was none the less annoyed at the unceremonious procedure, as he
testified a little later with some blustering. Licquet, moreover, was
not deceived: on his return from Caen, he wrote: "Behold, I have
quarrelled with the Prefect of Calvados."
However, he cared very little about it. It had been tacitly decreed that
the robbery at Quesnay should be judged by a special court at Rouen.
Licquet became the organiser and stage-manager of the proceedings. At
the end of 1807 he had under lock and key thirty-eight prisoners whom he
questioned incessantly, and kept in a state of uncertainty as to whether
he meant to confront them with each other. But he declared himself
dissatisfied. D'Aché's absence spoiled his joy. He quite understood that
without the latter, his triumph would be incomplete, his work would
remain unfinished, and it was doubtless due to this torturing obsession
that he owed the idea, as cruel as it was ingenious, of a new drama of
which the old Marquise de Combray was again the victim.
On a certain day of November, 1807, she heard from her cell an unusual
tumult in the passages of the prison. Doors burst open and people called
to each other. There were cries of joy, whispers, exclamations of
astonishment or vexation, then long silences, which left the prisoner
perplexed. The next day when Licquet came to visit her she noticed that
his face wore a troubled expression. He was very laconic, mentioned
grave events which were preparing, and disappeared like a busy man. To
prisoners everything is a reason for hope, and that night Mme. de
Combray gave free course to her illusions. The following day she
received through the woman Delaitre, a short letter from the honest
"Captain"--the man who had saved Mme. Acquet, killed the yellow horse,
and whom she called her guardian angel. The guardian angel wrote only a
few words: "Bonaparte is overthrown; the King is about to land in
France; the prisons are opening everywhere. Write a letter at once to M.
d'Aché which he can hand to his Majesty. I will undertake to forward it
to him."
It is a truly touching fact that the old Marquise, whose energy no
fatigue, no moral torture could abate, fainted from happiness on
learning of her King's return.
The event realised all her hopes. For so many years she had been
expecting it from one moment to another, without ever growing
discouraged, that a dénouement for which she had been prepared so long,
seemed quite natural to her, and she immediately made her arrangements
for the new life that was about to commence. She first of all wrote a
line of thanks to the "good Delaitre," promising her protection and
assuring him that he should be rewarded for his devotion. She then
wrote to d'Aché a letter overflowing with joy.
"I have reached the pinnacle of my happiness, my dear Vicomte," she
wrote, "which is that of all France. I rejoice in your glory. M.
Delaitre has rendered me the greatest services, and during the past
two months has been constantly journeying in my behalf. His wife,
my companion in misfortune, has turned towards me his interest in
the unhappy, and he has sent me a message informing me of the great
events which are to put an end to all our troubles, advising me to
write a letter to the King and send it to you to present to him.
This is a bright idea, and compensates for the fact that my son is
not lucky enough to be in his proper place, as we desired and
planned. Your dear brother in chains is only supported by the
thought of your glory. I do not know how to speak to a king so
great by reason of his courage and virtue. I have allowed my heart
to speak, and I count upon you to obtain the favour of a visit from
him at Tournebut. The prisons are open everywhere.... I have borne
my imprisonment courageously for three years, but fell ill on
hearing the great news. You will let me know in time if I am to
have the happiness of entertaining the King. It is very bold of me
to ask if such a favour is possible in a house which I believe to
be devastated by commissioners who have exhausted on it their rage
at not finding you there. Render, I beg of you, to M. Delaitre all
that I owe him. You will know him as a relation of our poor Raoul.
He is inspired with the same sentiments and begs you to let him
serve you, not wishing to remain idle in such a good cause and at
such a great moment. This letter bears the marks of our
imprisonment. Accept, my dear Vicomte, my sentiments of attachment
and veneration.
"I have the honour to be,
"Your very humble servant,
"De Combray.
"I shall go to your mother's to await the King's passing, if I
obtain my liberty before his arrival, and I shall have to go to
Tournebut in order to have everything repaired and made ready if I
am to enjoy this favour. You will write, and wait impatiently."
The most heartrending of the letters despatched by the duped old
royalist in her joy, is the one destined for the King himself. Proud of
his stratagem, Licquet forwarded it to the police authorities, who
retained it. It is written in a thick, masculine hand on large
paper--studied, almost solemn at the beginning, then, with the
outpouring of her thoughts, ending in an almost illegible scribble. One
feels that the poor woman wanted to say everything, to empty her heart,
to free herself of eighteen years of mortification, mourning and
suppressed indignation. The following is the text of the letter, almost
complete:
"_To His Majesty Louis XVIII._
"Sire:--From my prison, where at the age of sixty-six, I
as well as my son, have been thrust for the last four months, we
have the happiness of offering you our respects and congratulations
on your happy accession to your throne. All our wishes are
fulfilled, sire....
"The few resources still at our command were devoted to supporting
your faithful servants of every class, and in saving them from
execution. I have to regret the loss of the Chevalier de
Margadelle, Raoulle, Tamerlan and the young Tellier, all of whom
were carried away by their zeal for your Majesty's cause and fell
victims to it at Paris and Versailles. I had hired a house, which I
gave up to them with all the hiding-places necessary for their
safety. My son had the good fortune to be under the orders of
Messieurs de Frotté and Ingant de St. Maur.
"I am sending my letter to M. le Vicomte d'Aché, in order that he
may present it to your Majesty and solicit a favour very dear to my
heart--that you will condescend to stay at my house on your way to
Paris. Sire, you will find my house open, and, they say, surrounded
with barricades, consequences of the ill-usage it has received
during their different investigations, another of which has
recently occurred in the hope of finding M. le Vicomte d'Aché and
my daughter, as well as repeated sojourns made by order of the
prefect, and an interrogation by his secretary, after having been
subjected to an examination lasting eleven hours in this so-called
Court of Justice, in order that I might inform them of my
correspondence with M. de Aché as well as of a letter I received
from him on the 17th of last March. The worst threats have been
used such as being confronted with Le Chevalier, and my being sent
to Paris to be guillotined, but nothing terrified me, I did not
tell them anything about my relations with him or where he was
living. I had just left him ten days previously. My reply to this
persecution was that M. de Aché was in London, and I concluded by
assuring them that I did not fear death, that I would fervently
perform my last act of contrition, and that my head would fall
without my disclosing this interesting mystery.
"My liberty was promised me six weeks ago, but at the price of a
large sum of money, which is, I believe, to be divided between the
prefect and his secretary Niquet (_sic_). Half the sum is safely
under lock and key in the latter's bureau. I have been a long time
trying to collect the sum demanded, as I received little assistance
from those who called themselves my friends. My very property was
refused me with arrogant threats, for it was believed that I was to
be put to the sword. The only end I hoped to attain by my
sacrifices was to save my daughter, upon whose head a price of
6,000 francs had been set at Caen. The family Delaitre, without any
other interest in me than that which misfortune inspires have
displayed indefatigable zeal in my cause, exposing their lives to
great danger in order to remove her from Caen, where the
authorities left no stone unturned.
"Three of my servants have been cast into prison, a fourth, named
François Hébert, commendable for thirty-seven years' faithful
service, defended our interests, and for his honesty's sake has
been in chains since the month of July. What must he not have
suffered during the last eleven years at the hands of the
authorities, the tax receivers at Harcourt, Falaise and Caen, and
of many others who wished his ruin because at our advice he
purposely took the farm on our estate, that he might there save
your persecuted followers. He is well known to M. de Frotté whose
esteem he enjoyed, and whom he received with twenty-four of his
faithful friends, knowing they would be safe in his house. All this
anxiety has greatly impaired his health and that of his wife, who
was pregnant at the time, and consequently their son, aged eleven,
is in very delicate health. The Dartenet (_sic_) family have caused
many of our misfortunes by daily denunciations, which they renewed
with all their might in January, 1806. It was only by a special
providence that we, as well as M. le Vicomte d'Aché, escaped
imprisonment. My son hastened to warn him not to return to our
cottage, which was part of my dowry, and offended the Dartenets,
who wanted this tavern that they might turn it into a special inn
for their castle, which is the fruit of their iniquity.
"My son and I both crave your Majesty's protection and that of the
princes of the blood.
"I respectfully remain,
"Your Majesty's very humble and obedient servant,
"De Combray."
It was, as we see, a general confession. What must have been the
Marquise's grief and rage on learning that she had been deceived? At
what moment did Licquet cease to play a double part with her? With what
invectives must she not have overwhelmed him when he ceased? How did
Mme. de Combray learn that her noblest illusions had been worked upon to
make her give up her daughter and betray all her friends? These are
things Licquet never explained, either because he was not proud of the
dubious methods he employed, or, more probably, because he did not care
what his victims thought of them. Besides, his mind was occupied with
other things. Mme. de Combray had hinted to Delaitre that d'Aché usually
stayed in the neighbourhood of Bayeux, without stating more precisely
where, as she was certain he would easily be found beside the newly
landed King. Licquet, therefore, went in search of him, and his men
scoured the neighbourhood. Placène, for his part, annoyed at finding
that Allain did not keep his word and made no attempt to deliver his
imprisoned comrades, gave some hints. In order to communicate with
Allain and d'Aché, one was, according to him, obliged to apply to an
innkeeper at Saint-Exupère. This man was in correspondence with a fellow
named Richard, who acted as courier to the two outlaws. "Between Bayeux
and Saint-Lô is the coal mine of Litré, and the vast forest of Serisy is
almost contiguous to it. This mine employed five or six hundred workmen,
and as Richard was employed there one was inclined to think that the
subterranean passages might serve as a refuge to Allain and d'Aché,
whether they were there in the capacity of miners, or were hidden in
some hut or disused ditch."
The information was too vague to be utilised, and Licquet thought it
wiser to direct his batteries on another point. He had under his thumb
one victim whom as yet he had not tortured, and from whom he hoped much:
this was Mme. Acquet. "She is," he wrote, "a second edition of her
mother for hypocrisy, but surpasses her in maliciousness and
ill-nature.... Her children seem to interest her but little; she never
mentions them to any one, and her heart is closed to all natural
sentiments."
But I believe that it was to excuse himself in his chief's eyes that
Licquet painted such a black picture of the prisoner. His own heart was
closed to all compassion, and we find in this man the inexorable
impassibility of a Laffemas or a Fouquier Tinville, with a refined irony
in addition which only added to the cruelty. The moral torture to which
he subjected Mme. Acquet is the product of an inquisitor's mind. "At
present," he remarked, "as the subject is somewhat exhausted, I shall
turn my attention to setting our prisoners against one another. The
little encounter may give us some useful facts."
The little encounter broke the prisoner's heart, and deprived her of the
only consoling thought so many misfortunes had left her.