THE PIRATES.
After a few moments' silence, the widow said to her daughter, "Go and
get some wood; we will arrange the woodhouse to-night, on the return
of Nicholas and Martial."
"Martial! Will you also tell him that?"
"Some wood," repeated the widow, interrupting her daughter.
She, accustomed to this iron will, lighted a lantern and went out. At
the moment she opened the door it could be seen that the night was
very dark, and one could hear the whistling of the wind through the
poplars, the clanging of the chains which held the boats, and the wash
of the river. These noises were profoundly sad.
During the preceding scene, Amandine, painfully affected at the fate
of Francois, whom she loved tenderly, had dared neither to raise her
eyes nor wipe her tears, which fell drop by drop obscuring her sight.
In her haste to finish the work which was given her, she had wounded
her hand with the scissors; the blood flowed freely, but the poor
child thought less of the pain than the punishment which she might
expect for having stained the linen with her blood. Happily, the
widow, absorbed in profound thought, perceived nothing. Calabash
returned bringing a basket filled with wood. At a look from her
mother, she answered by a nod, intended to say that the dead man's
foot did appear above the earth.
The widow bit her lip and continued to work, but she appeared to
handle the needle more quickly. Calabash replenished the fire, and
resumed her seat alongside of her mother.
"Nicholas does not come," said she. "I hope the old woman who was here
this morning, in giving him a rendezvous with Bradamanti, has not got
him into some bad scrape. She had such a queer air; she would not
explain or tell her name, or where she came from." The widow shrugged
her shoulders.
"You think there is no danger for Nicholas, mother? After all,
perhaps, you are right. The old woman said he must be on the Quai de
Billy at seven in the evening, opposite the dock, where he would find
a man who wished to speak to him, and who would say 'Bradamanti' for
password. Really, that does not seem so very dangerous. If Nicholas is
late, it is, perhaps, because he has found something on the way, as he
did yesterday--this linen, boned from a washing-boat;" and she showed
one of the pieces of linen which Amandine was unmarking; then,
speaking to the child, she said, "What does boning mean?"
"This means to take," answered the child, without raising her eyes.
"It means to steal, little fool; do you hear, to steal?"
"Yes, sister."
"And when one knows how to bone like Nicholas there is always
something to gain. The linen he picked up yesterday has only cost us
the trouble of picking out the marks--eh, mother?" said Calabash, with
a burst of laughter which displayed her decayed teeth, as yellow as
her skin. The widow did not laugh.
"_Apropos_ of getting things gratis," continued Calabash, "we
can, perhaps, furnish ourselves from another shop. You know that an
old man, two or three days since, came to live in the country-house of
M. Griffion, the physician of the Paris Hospital--the lonely house a
few steps from the river, opposite the plaster quarry?" The widow
bowed her head.
"Nicholas said yesterday that now there was, perhaps, a good job to be
done there. And I know, since this morning, that there is some booty
there for certain. I must send Amandine to wander around the house;
they will pay no attention to her; she will pretend to be playing,
will look well about her, and then come and let us know what she has
seen. Do you hear what I say?"
"Yes, sister, I will go," answered the trembling child.
"You always say 'I will' but you never do it, you sly puss. The time I
told you to take the five francs from the counter of the grocer at
Asnieres, while I kept him busy at the other end of his shop--it was
very easy; no one suspects a child--why didn't you obey?"
"Sister, my heart failed me: I did not dare."
"The other day you dared to steal a handkerchief from the peddler's
pack while he was selling at the tavern. Did he find it out, fool?"
"Sister, you forced me--it was for you; and, besides, it was not
money."
"What of that?"
"To take a handkerchief is not so bad as to take money."
"On my word! Martial teaches you these whims doesn't he?" said
Calabash, in an ironical manner. "You'll go and tell him everything,
little spy! Do you think we are afraid that he'll eat us?" Then,
addressing the widow, Calabash added, "Mother, this will end badly for
him; he wants to lay down the law here. Nicholas is furious against
him; so am I. He sets Amandine and Francois against us, against you.
Can it be borne?"
"No!" said the mother, in a short, harsh voice.
"It is especially since his Louve was Saint-Lazared that he has gone
on like a madman. Is it our fault that she is in prison? When she is
once out of prison, let her come here, and I will serve her out--good
measure--though she is strong."
The widow, after a moment's pause, said to her daughter, "You think
there is something to be done with the old man who lives in the
doctor's house?"
"Yes, mother."
"He looks like a beggar."
"That doesn't prevent his being a noble."
"A noble?"
"Yes; or that he should have gold in his purse, although he goes to
Paris on foot every day, and returns in the same manner, with his
heavy stick for his carriage."
"How do you know that he has gold?"
"The other day I was at the post-office, to see if there were any
letters from Toulon."
At these words, which brought to her mind her son at the galleys, the
widow knit her brows and suppressed a sigh.
Calabash continued: "I awaited my turn, when the old man we speak of
came in. I twigged him at once by his beard, as white as his hair, and
his black eyebrows. In spite of his hair, he must be a determined old
man. He said, 'Have you any letters from Angers for the Count of Saint
Remy?' 'Yes,' was the answer, 'here is one.' 'It is for me,' said he;
'here is my passport.' While the postmaster examined it, the old man
drew out his purse to pay the postage. At one end I saw the gold
glittering through the meshes, at least forty or fifty louis," cried
Calabash, her eyes twinkling, "and yet he is dressed like a beggar. He
is one of those old misers who are stuffed with gold. Come, mother, we
know his name; it may serve us to get into the crib when Amandine
finds out if he has any servants."
A violent barking of the dogs interrupted Calabash. "Oh, the dogs
bark," said she; "they hear a boat. It is either Martial or Nicholas."
After a few moments the door opened, and Nicholas Martial made his
appearance. His face was ignoble and ferocious; small, thin, pitiful,
it could hardly be imagined that he followed so dangerous a calling;
but an indomitable energy supplied the place of the physical strength
which was wanting. Over his blue slop he wore a great-coat, without
sleeves, made of goat-skin with long hair. On entering he threw on the
ground a roll of copper which he had on his shoulder.
"Good-night, and good booty, mother," cried he, in a cracked voice;
"there are three more rolls in my boat, a bundle of clothes, and a box
filled with I don't know what, for I have not amused myself by opening
it. Perhaps I am sold--we shall see."
"And what about the man at the Quai de Billy?" asked Calabash, while
the widow looked at her son without saying a word.
He, for sole answer, put his hand in his pocket and jingled together a
number of pieces of silver.
"You took all that from him?" cried Calabash.
"No, he shelled out himself two hundred francs, and he will come down
with eight hundred more when I shall have--but enough; let us unload
the boat; we can jaw afterward. Isn't Martial here?"
"No," said the sister.
"So much the better; we will lock up the booty without him; just as
well he shouldn't know."
"You are afraid of him, coward!" said Calabash, crossly.
"Afraid of him? me!" He shrugged his shoulders. "I am afraid he'll
sell us, that's all. As to the fear, my sticker has too sharp a
tongue."
"Oh, when he is not here, you brag; let him but come, that shuts your
bill."
Nicholas appeared insensible to this reproach, and said, "Come, quick!
quick! to the boat. Where is Francois, mother? He could help us."
"Mother has shut him upstairs, after having dressed him nicely; he
goes to bed without supper," said Calabash.
"Good; but let him come and help us unload the boat all the same--eh,
mother? Calabash, him, and me, in a twist, will have all housed."
The widow pointed upward. Calabash understood, and went to look for
Francois.
The gloomy visage of Mother Martial had become slightly relaxed since
the arrival of Nicholas; she liked him better than Calabash, but not
as well as she did her Toulon son, as she called him; for the maternal
love of this ferocious creature increased in proportion to the
criminality of her offspring. This perverse preference sufficiently
explains the dislike of the widow to her youngest children, who
displayed no bad tendencies, and her profound hatred for Martial, her
eldest son, who, without leading a blameless life, might have passed
for a very honest man if he had been compared to Nicholas, Calabash,
or his brother, the galley--slave at Toulon.
[Illustration: THE PILLAGE ]
"Where have you been plundering to-night?" asked the widow.
"On returning from the Quai de Billy, I cast a sheep's-eye upon a
barge fastened to the quay near the Invalides Bridge. It was dark; I
said, no light in the cabin--the sailors are on shore--I'll go on
board; if I meet any one, I'll ask for a piece of seizing to mend my
oar. I went into the cabin--nobody; then I took what I could, some
clothes, a large box, and, on the deck, four rolls of copper; for I
returned twice. The barge was loaded with copper and iron. But here
come Francois and Calabash. Quick, to the boat! Come, be moving--you,
too, Amandine. You can carry the clothes. A dog learns to carry before
he is taught hunting."
Left alone, the widow busied herself in preparing the supper for the
family, placing on the table glasses, bottles, plates, and silver
forks and spoons. Just as she finished her preparation, her children
returned heavily laden. The weight of the two rolls, which he carried
on his shoulders, seemed almost to crush Francois. Amandine was hardly
visible under the bundle of clothes which she carried on her head.
Nicholas and Calabash carried between them a deal box, on the top of
which was placed the fourth roll of copper.
"The box, the box!" cried Calabash, with impatience. "Let us air the
case!" The copper was thrown on the ground. Nicholas, armed with a
hatchet, endeavored to get it under the cover, so as to force it up.
The red flickering light from the earth illuminated this scene of
pillage; without, the wind howled with renewed violence. Nicholas,
kneeling before the box, tried to break it, and uttered the most
horrible oaths on seeing his efforts useless. Her eyes glistening with
cupidity, her cheeks flushing, Calabash kneeled on the box, and
assisted Nicholas with all her strength. The widow, separated from the
group by the table, where she stood at full length, also had her eager
gaze fixed on the stolen object.
Finally, a thing, alas! too human, the two children, whose good
natural instincts had so often triumphed over the cursed influence of
this abominable domestic corruption, forgetting their scruples and
their fears, gave way to the attractions of a fatal curiosity. Leaning
against one another, their eyes sparkling, their breathing oppressed,
Francois and Amandine were not less anxious to know the contents of
the box than their brother or sister. At length the top was forced
off.
"Ah!" cried the family, in a joyful tone. And all, from the mother to
the little girl, crowded around the stolen case. Without doubt,
consigned by some Paris merchant to some of his country customers, it
contained a large quantity of articles for women's use.
"Nicholas is not sold!" cried Calabash, unrolling a piece of muslin de
laine.
"No," answered the pirate, shaking out a package of foulards; "no, I
have paid my expenses."
"Levantine! that will sell like bread," said the widow, putting her
hand in the box. "The Bras-Rouge's fence, who lives in the Rue du
Temple, will buy the stuffs, and Daddy Micou, who keeps furnished
lodgings in the Quartier Saint Honore, will arrange for the copper."
"Amandine!" whispered Francois to his little sister; "what a pretty
cravat this would make."
"Yes, and it would make a very fine scarf," answered the child, with
admiration. "I must say you had some luck, getting on board the
barge," said Calabash; "look here, famous shawls; three real silk! Do
look, mother?"
"Burette will give at least five hundred francs for the whole," said
the widow, after a close examination.
"Then it must be worth at least fifteen hundred francs," said
Nicholas, "but a receiver is as bad as a thief! Bah! I do not know how
to cheat. I shall be soft enough this time again to do just as Burette
wishes, and Micou also; but he is a friend."
"Never mind; the seller of old iron is a robber, just like the rest,
but these rascally receivers know one has need of them," said
Calabash, trying on one of the shawls, "and they abuse it."
"There's nothing more," said Nicholas, reaching the bottom of the box.
"Now all must be repacked," said the widow.
"I'll keep this shawl," said Calabash.
"You'll keep it!" cried Nicholas, brutally, "if I give it to you. You
are always taking--you--Miss Free-and-easy."
"Oh! you then refrain from taking?"
"I? I nail at the risk of my skin. It's not you who'd have been jugged
if they'd caught me on the barge."
"Well, there's your shawl! I don't care about it," said Calabash,
sharply throwing it back into the case.
"It is not on account of the shawl that I speak; I am not mean enough
to value a shawl; for one, more or less, old Burette will not change
her price; she buys in a lump," said Nicholas. "But instead of saying
that you'd take the shawl you might ask if I would give it you. Come,
keep it--keep it, I tell you; or if you won't, I'll pitch it into the
fire to make the pot boil."
These words soothed Calabash's bad temper, and she took the shawl.
Nicholas was, doubtless, in a generous mood; for, tearing off with his
teeth two of the handsomest handkerchiefs, he threw them to Francois
and Amandine.
"That's for you, my kids, to put you in the notion to go on the lay.
Appetite comes with eating. Now go to bed; I want to talk with mother.
Your supper shall be brought upstairs." The children clapped their
hands, and waved triumphantly the stolen handkerchiefs which had just
been given them.
"Well, you little blockheads!" said Calabash, "will you listen any
more to Martial? Has he ever given you such handsome things?" Francois
and Amandine looked at each other; then hung their heads without
replying.
"Speak!" said Calabash, harshly; "has he ever made you presents?"
"Well, no; he never has," said Francois, looking at his red
handkerchief with delight. Amandine said, in a very low tone, "Brother
Martial does not make us presents, because he hasn't the means."
"If he would steal, he'd have them," said Nicholas; "eh, Francois?"
"Yes, brother," answered Francois. Then he added: "Oh, the beautiful
silk! What a fine cravat for Sunday?"
"What a fine head-dress!" said Amandine.
"Not to say how wild the children of the lime-burner will be when they
see you pass," said Calabash, looking at the children to see if they
comprehended the bearing of the words. The abominable creature thus
called vanity to her assistance to stifle the last scruples of
conscience. "The beggars will burst with envy: while you, with your
fine silk, will look like little gentry."
"That's true," answered Francois. "I am much more content with my fine
cravat, since the little lime-burners will be so jealous; ain't you,
Amandine?"
"I am content with my fine kerchief."
"You'll never be anything but a noodle!" said Calabash, disdainfully;
and taking from the table a piece of bread and cheese, she gave it to
the children and said, "Go upstairs to bed. Here is a lantern. Take
care of the fire, and put out the light before you go to sleep."
"And," added Nicholas, "remember, if you say a word to Martial about
the box, or the copper, or the clothes, you shall have a dance, so
that you'll take fire; not to say taking away the silks."
After the departure of the children, Nicholas and his sister hid the
stolen articles in a little cellar under the kitchen.
"Mother! some drink, and let it be choice," cried the robber. "I have
well earned my day. Serve supper, Calabash; Martial shall gnaw our
bones--good enough for him. Now let us talk of the customer, 'Quai de
Billy,' for to-morrow or next day that must come off, if I wish to
pocket the money he promised. I am going to tell you, mother; but some
drink--thunder! let's have some drink. I'll stand some."
Nicholas rattled the money which he had in his pocket anew; then,
throwing off his goatskin jacket and his black woolen cap, he seated
himself at table before a ragout of mutton, a piece of cold veal, and
salad.
When Calabash had brought some wine and brandy, the widow seated
herself at the table, having Nicholas on her right and Calabash on her
left; opposite were the unoccupied places of Martial and the two
children. The thief drew from his pocket a long, broad knife, with a
horn handle and sharp blade. Looking at this murderous weapon with a
kind of ferocious satisfaction, he said to the widow, "My rib-tickler
still cuts well! Pass me the bread, mother!"
"Speaking of knives," said Calabash, "Francois saw something in the
woodhouse."
"What?" said Nicholas, not understanding her.
"He saw one of the trotters--"
"Of the man?" cried Nicholas.
"Yes," said the widow, putting a slice of meat on the plate of her
son.
"That's queer, for the hole was very deep," said the brigand, "but
since that time should have been heaped up."
"We must throw the lot into the river to-night," said the widow."
"It is more sure," answered Nicholas.
"We can tie a stone to it with a piece of old chain," added Calabash.
"Not so foolish!" said Nicholas, pouring out drink; "come, drink with
us, mother; it will make you more lively."
The widow shook her head, drew back her glass, and said to her son,
"And the man at the Quai de Billy?"
"Well," said Nicholas, continuing to eat and drink. "On arriving at
the wharf, I tied up my boat, and mounted on the wharf; seven o'clock
struck at the military bakehouse of Chaillot; I could hardly see my
hand before my face. I walked up and down for about fifteen minutes,
when I heard some one walk softly behind me. I stopped; a man wrapped
in a cloak approached, coughing; he halted. All that I know of his
face is, that his cloak hid his nose, and his hat covered his eyes."
(This mysterious personage was Jacques Ferrand, who, wishing to make
away with Fleur-de-Marie, had that morning dispatched Mrs. Seraphin to
the Martials, whom he hoped to make his instruments in this new
crime.)
"'Bradamanti,' said the tax-payer," continued Nicholas; "the password
agreed upon with the old woman. 'Ravageur,' I replied. 'Is your name
Martial?' said he to me. 'Rather!' 'A woman came to your island this
morning; what did she say?' 'That you had something to say to me from
M. Bradamanti.' 'Do you wish to gain some money?' 'Yes, much.' 'Have
you a boat?' 'Four! it is our business; boatmen and ravageurs from
father to son, at your service.' 'I'll tell you what is to be done--if
you are not afraid--' 'Afraid--of what?' 'To see some one _drowned
by accident_; only it is necessary to assist the _accident_.
Do you comprehend?' 'Oh, you want to make some cove drink of the Seine
by chance! that suits me; but, as it is rather a delicate draught, the
seasoning will cost rather dear.' 'How much for two?' 'For two! will
there be two persons to make soup of in the river?' 'Yes.' 'Five
hundred francs a-head, and not dear.' 'Agreed for a thousand francs.'
'Pay in advance?' 'Two hundred in advance, the remainder afterward.'
'You are afraid to trust me?' 'No, you can pocket my two hundred
francs without fulfilling our agreement.' 'And you, old friend, once
the affair finished, when I ask you for the remainder, can answer me--
go to the deuce!' 'You must run your chance; does this suit you, yes
or no? Two hundred francs down, and the night after to-morrow, here,
at nine o'clock, I will give you eight hundred francs.' 'And who shall
tell you that I have made these two persons drink?' 'I shall know it:
that's my affair! Is it a bargain?' 'It is.' 'Here's your money. Now
listen to me; you will know the old woman again who came to see you
this morning?' 'Yes.' 'To-morrow, or the day after at furthest, you
will see her arrive, about four o'clock in the afternoon, on the shore
opposite your island with a young girl; the old woman will make you a
signal by waving her handkerchief.' 'Yes.' 'How long does it take to
go from the shore to your island?' 'Twenty good minutes.' 'Your boats
have flat bottoms.' 'Flat as your hand.' 'You must make a hole in the
bottom of one of your boats, so as to be able, by opening it, to make
it sink in a twinkling; do you comprehend?' 'Very well; you are the
devil! I have an old boat that I was about to break up; it will just
answer for this last voyage.' 'You set out, then, from your island
with this boat; a good boat follows you, conducted by some one of your
family. You land; you take the old woman and the young girl on board
your boat, and you set off for the island; but, at a reasonable
distance from the shore, you feign to stoop to fix something; you open
the hole, and you jump lightly into the other boat, while the old
woman and the young girl--' 'Drink out of the same cup--that's it.'
'But are you sure of not being disturbed should there be any guests at
your tavern?' 'No fear, at this time, in winter, above all, no one
comes; it is our dead season; and if any one should come, they would
not be in the way; on the contrary--all tried friends.' 'Very well!
Besides, you will not be at all compromised; the boat will sink
through age, and the old woman with it. In fine, to be well assured
that both of them are drowned (remember, by accident), you should, if
they appear again, or if they cling to the boat, appear to do all in
your power to assist them, and--' 'Aid them--to dive again! Good
again.' 'It is better that the job take place after sunset, so that it
be dark when they fall into the water.' 'No, for if one cannot see
clear, how can they know whether the two women have drunk their fill,
or want some more?' 'That is true; then the accident must happen
before dark.' 'Very good; but does the old woman suspect anything?'
'No. On arriving she will whisper in your ear: We must drown the girl;
a short time before you sink the boat, make me a sign, so that I can
escape with you. You must answer in such a manner as to calm any
suspicions.' 'So that she thinks to lead the girl to drink?' 'And she
will drink with her.' 'It is wisely arranged.' 'Above all, let the old
woman suspect nothing.' 'Be easy; she shall swallow it like honey.'
'Well, good luck! If I am pleased, perhaps I shall employ you again.'
'At your service.' Thereupon," said the brigand, ending his story, "I
left the man in the cloak, got into my boat, and, passing by the
barge, I picked up the booty you have seen."
It will be seen from this recital, that the notary wished, by a double
crime, to get rid of Fleur-de-Marie and of Mrs. Seraphin at the same
time, by making the latter fall into the snare she believed only laid
for La Goualeuse. The reasons for putting the latter out of the way
are known to the reader; and in sacrificing Mrs. Seraphin, he silenced
one of his accomplices (Bradamanti was the other), who could at any
time ruin him by ruining themselves, it is true; but Jacques Ferrand
thought his secrets better guarded by the tomb than by personal
interest. The widow and Calabash had attentively listened to Nicholas,
who had only interrupted himself to drink to excess. For this reason
he began to talk with singular warmth.
"That's not all; I have managed another affair with La Chouette and
Barbillon, of the Rue aux Feves. It is a famous plant, knowingly got
up, and if we don't fail, there'll be something to try, I tell you. It
is in contemplation to rob a diamond broker, who has sometimes as much
as fifty thousand francs' value in her box."
"Fifty thousand francs!" cried mother and daughter, their eyes
sparkling with cupidity.
"Yes, that's all! Bras-Rouge is in the game. Yesterday he decoyed the
broker by a letter which Barbillon and I took to her on the Boulevard
Saint Denis. Brass-Rouge is a famous fellow! No one suspects him. To
make her bite, he has already sold her a diamond for four hundred
francs. She will not fail to come, at dusk, to his tavern in the
Champs Elysees. We will be there concealed. Calabash may come also, to
take care of my boat. If it is necessary to pack up the broker, dead
or alive, this will be a nice carriage, and leave no traces behind.
There's a plan for you! Rouge of a Bras-Rouge, what a college-bred
scamp!"
"I am always suspicious of Bras-Rouge," said the widow. "After the
affair of the Rue Montmartre, your brother Ambrose was sent to Toulon,
and Bras-Rouge was released."
"Because there was no proof against him, he is so cunning! But betray
others--never!"
The widow shook her head, as if she had been only half convinced of
the probity of Bras-Rouge. "I prefer," said she, "the affair of the
Quai de Billy--the women-drowning. But Martial will be in the way, as
he always is."
"The devil's thunder will not rid us of him then?" cried Nicholas,
half drunk, sticking his long knife with fury in the table.
"I told mother that we had had enough of him; that it could not last,"
said Calabash; "as long as he is here, we can make nothing out of the
children."
"I tell you he is capable of denouncing us any day, the sneak," said
Nicholas. "Do you see, mother; if you'd have agreed," added he, in a
ferocious manner, looking at the widow, "all would have been settled."
"There are other means."
"This is the best."
"At present, no," answered the widow, with a tone so absolute that
Nicholas was quiet, ruled by her influence. She added, "To-morrow
morning he leaves the island forever."
"How?" said Calabash and Nicholas in a breath.
"He will soon come in; seek a quarrel--boldly--as you have never dared
to do. Come to blows, if needs be. He is strong, but you will be two,
and I will help you. Above all, no knives--no blood; let him be
beaten, not wounded."
"And what then?" asked Nicholas.
"We'll have an explanation; we will tell him to leave the island to-morrow,
otherwise we'll repeat this again to-morrow night; such continual
quarrels will disgust him, I know; we have let him be too quiet."
"But he is stubborn as a mule; he'll remain on account of the
children," said Calabash.
"He is dead beat, but an attack will not scare him," added Nicholas.
"Oh, yes," said the widow; "but every day, every day is too much; he
will give up."
"And if he will not?"
"Then I have another plan to force him to leave tonight, or to-morrow
morning at latest," answered the widow, with a strange smile.
"Truly, mother?"
"Yes; but I would rather frighten him by quarreling and fighting; if I
do not then succeed, I'll try the other way."
"And if the other way don't answer, mother?" said Nicholas.
"There is still another, which always does," replied the widow.
Suddenly the door opened and Martial entered. It blew so hard outside
that they had not heard the barking of the dogs announcing the arrival
of the gallows widow's first-born.