there will be nothing to interfere with our flight. Edouard, remain
here; above all things, no pity if she wakes.--You, my friends, come
with me, and I will show you your posts; then Lampin and I will look
after the rest.”
During Dufresne’s speech, Lampin turned up his sleeves, drew his
weapons, and examined the point of his dagger; a tigerish smile gleamed
in his eyes, and his hideous face, animated by wine and the anticipation
of pillage, seemed to bear with joy the impress of crime.
The four brigands departed from the room and Edouard was left alone. On
the alert for the slightest noise, he walked constantly from the window
to the bed; he listened to see whether anyone passed in the woods, then
returned to put his ear to the curtains which concealed the young woman
from him. His eyes turned toward the child’s crib; she was not in it.
Adeline, more excited than usual, and disturbed by the dull sound she
had heard outside her shutters, had taken her daughter and laid her
across her breast, when she threw herself fully dressed on her bed.
Curious to see the mad woman, Edouard was about to put aside the
curtain when a noise from the woods attracted his attention, and he
returned to the window. He heard footsteps trampling over the dry
branches and crunching the half-frozen snow. The noise drew near, and he
heard voices. If they were gendarmes sent in pursuit of them, if they
should see the window with the broken bars--Edouard trembled; he softly
closed the shutters so that no one could see into the room. He hardly
breathed. Despite his precautions, Adeline had waked; she abruptly
opened her curtains, half rising.
“Is it you? is it you?” she cried in a loud voice.
“This miserable creature will betray us,” said Edouard to himself; “her
voice will attract those travellers in this direction.--Well! I must do
it!”
He ran to the bed, dagger in hand; he was about to strike, when he
recognized his wife and child.
A cry of dismay, of horror, issued from the mouth of the miserable
outcast, who dropped the murderous steel and stood motionless before the
woman he had been about to strike. But that terrible cry had found an
echo in Adeline’s soul; she recognized her husband’s voice; those same
accents which had destroyed her reason once more revolutionized her
whole being; she tried to collect her ideas; it was as if she were
waking from a hideous dream; she saw Edouard, recognized him, and rushed
into his arms with a cry of joy.
“Edouard! here, by my side!” cried Adeline, gazing at him lovingly. “My
dear, how does it happen? Ah! I do not know what to think! My head is on
fire!”
“Come,” said Edouard; “give me the child; let us fly, let us fly from
this place, or you are lost.”
“Why should we fly? What danger threatens you? Have you not suffered
enough? Does man’s justice pursue you still?”
“Yes, yes; and you yourself are in danger from the rage of the brigands!
Listen,--do you hear those shrieks in the house? They are murdering an
old man without pity; come, I tell you, or they will kill you before my
eyes! Oh! do not refuse me! I am a monster, a villain, but I long to
save you.”
Adeline allowed herself to be led away by her husband; she took her
child in her arms and was about to follow him, when the shutters were
violently thrown open, while the bell at the gate rang loudly.
A man appeared in the window, and prepared to leap into the room,
calling to his companion:
“Here’s a breach; this way, comrade, this way! There are villains in the
citadel; let us go in and we’ll give them a hiding, ten thousand
cartridges! Forward!”
At sight of the stranger, Edouard, bewildered and beside himself with
fear, had no doubt that he had come to arrest him and his companions;
seeking to avoid the punishment that awaited him, he dropped Adeline’s
hand and pushed her away when she clung to him.
“You are saved,” he said; “let me alone, do not follow me; adieu, adieu
forever!”
He rushed out through the door at the end of the room, reached the
courtyard, succeeded in climbing over the gate and fled into the woods.
At the same moment Jacques and Sans-Souci entered Adeline’s room by the
window; she, exhausted by all the shocks to which her mind had been
exposed, fell unconscious at the moment that her husband disappeared.
XXXVII
WHO GOODMAN GERVAL WAS
“Oh! what good fortune! Can I believe my eyes?” cried Jacques as he ran
to the assistance of the unfortunate young woman whom he saw on the
floor. “This woman--it is she, Sans-Souci! Come, come and look at her.”
“Why, yes! sacrebleu! It’s her! We’ve found her at last! Didn’t I tell
you that a man should never despair of anything?”
“And her daughter,--see, there she is; yes, I recognize her too.”
“But when I opened those shutters, I thought I saw a man; he has
escaped.--The devil! what a noise! Do you hear? somebody is calling for
help! Stay with her, but give me one of your pistols.”
Jacques gave Sans-Souci one of his weapons; and he, with the pistol in
one hand, and his stick in the other, rushed in the direction of the
shrieks; he went up to the first floor, entered a room the door of which
was broken down, and saw an old man on his knees, imploring the pity of
a miscreant, while another miscreant laden with bags of money was
preparing for flight. Sans-Souci discharged his pistol at Dufresne, who
was on the point of striking Monsieur Gerval; the monster fell at the
old man’s feet; his comrade threw down his bags and tried to escape; but
Sans-Souci did not give him time; he overtook him on the stairway and
dealt him such a lusty blow on the head that Lampin staggered, rolled
down several stairs, struck his head against the wall, and expired,
vomiting the most horrible imprecations.
“You are my savior! my liberator!” cried Monsieur Gerval; while
Sans-Souci relieved him of the cords that bound him.
“It is true, my dear monsieur, that it was high time; but perhaps there
are other brigands in your house, and I will complete my inspection.”
“I will go with you, I will go with you, monsieur,” said the old man; “I
will be your guide. Alas! I do not see my faithful Dupré.”
At that moment they heard a pistol shot. Sans-Souci descended the stairs
four at a time, and joined Jacques at the instant that he blew out the
brains of one of the brigands who was trying to fly through Adeline’s
room; while his comrades, being more prudent, escaped by the same road
that Edouard had followed.
The report of firearms, the uproar and the shrieks had awakened
Catherine and Lucas; but only in obedience to their master’s voice did
they dare to leave their rooms. Then they went all together, with
lights, to Adeline’s room. She was just recovering her senses and was
gazing with renewed surprise at Jacques, who stood by her.
“My brother, my friend, have I found you too?” she said at last; “I do
not know if it is a dream, but so many events have succeeded one
another! Just now Edouard was with me.”
“Edouard! Come to yourself, be calm, my dear Adeline, and have no fear;
the brigands are punished.”
Adeline made no reply but her eyes still sought her husband.
“Victory!” cried Sans-Souci; “I killed two of them, for my part.”
“We owe you our lives, gallant strangers,” said Monsieur Gerval,
approaching Jacques; “how can I ever pay my debt to you?”
“You have evidently taken care of my sister and my niece,” Jacques
answered the old man, “and I am still in your debt.”
“His sister! his niece!” exclaimed the good man and his servants.
“First of all, let us finish inspecting the house,” said Sans-Souci;
“there may be some more of the scoundrels hidden in some corner.”
“But Dupré doesn’t appear! I am terribly afraid that he has fallen a
victim to his zeal.”
“Let us put our friends in a place of safety, and go and look!”
Monsieur Gerval, Adeline, her daughter and Catherine were taken to a
room of which the door was securely fastened, and where they had nothing
to fear; then Jacques and Sans-Souci began to inspect the house, guided
by Lucas, who trembled like a leaf, but dared not refuse to accompany
them. The name of Edouard, which Adeline had pronounced, was an enigma
to Jacques, who dared not harbor the suspicions that came to his mind.
They examined every part of the house without finding anybody, except
the body of the unfortunate Dupré in the attic; after making sure that
there was no sign of life about him, Sans-Souci, aided by Lucas, took
him down to the ground floor, where the faithful servant’s remains were
destined to stay until the last rites should be performed over them.
While Sans-Souci and the gardener attended to this melancholy duty,
Jacques entered Monsieur Gerval’s apartment. A low groaning came from
one corner of the room. Dufresne was still alive; but the wound that he
had received was mortal and the villain struggled in vain against death.
Jacques put his lantern to the dying man’s face and an exclamation of
surprise escaped him. Dufresne also recognized Edouard’s brother; a
horrible smile animated his almost lifeless eyes; he mustered what
little strength he had left, to speak for the last time.
“I am dying; but if you have killed all those who were with me, you have
killed your brother. Tell his wife, tell that Adeline who despised me,
that her husband, after escaping from the galleys, has become by my
advice a robber and an assassin.”
Dufresne breathed his last after uttering these words, well content to
have done someone an injury at the last moment of his life.
Jacques stood for some moments frozen with horror by the dead body of
the man who had wrecked the happiness of his family. But, overcoming his
dismay, he determined to make sure of the horrible truth; he descended
the stairs, halted beside Lampin’s body and held the lantern to his
face, shuddering with apprehension. It was not he! Jacques breathed a
little more freely, and went down to the ground floor, where the man was
whom he himself had killed; and although he was very sure that it was
not his brother, he proceeded to satisfy himself beyond a doubt.
“Thank heaven!” he said after examining the brigand’s features, “my hand
is not wet with my brother’s blood! He has escaped. God grant that we
may never see him again! Let us forget a monster who dishonors us, and
devote all our care to the two unfortunate creatures whom I have found
again at last.”
But before returning to Adeline, Jacques carefully examined all the
pockets of all the brigands, especially Dufresne’s, fearing that some
paper relating to Edouard would be found upon them. He made sure that
they had only weapons and money about them, and then in a more tranquil
frame of mind returned to Adeline.
The occupants of the house had discovered with the most intense delight
that the young woman had recovered her reason; and while a thorough
search was being made in his house, Monsieur Gerval told Adeline how he
had found her and taken care of her at Paris, then brought her to his
estate in the country; and lastly, how long a time she had lived under
his roof.
Adeline threw herself at her protector’s knees. She realized now all
that she owed him, although honest Gerval, in his narrative, had spoken
only of the pleasure it had given him to oblige her, passing lightly
over all that he had done for her.
Adeline then inquired about the events of the preceding night. They told
her that brigands had made their way into the house, and that except for
the unexpected arrival of two travellers, one of whom appeared to be her
brother, they would have been pillaged by the robbers.
She shuddered; she remembered how Edouard had appeared before her, his
excitement, his terror at the appearance of the strangers; she dared not
continue her questions, but she anxiously awaited Jacques’s return. He
appeared at last.
“Some of the villains have escaped,” he said, approaching Adeline, upon
whom he bestowed a glance of which she understood the meaning. “Those
who were killed well deserve their fate.”
“Morbleu!” said Sans-Souci; “they all well deserve to be broken on the
wheel! I have only one regret, and that is that any of them got away.”
“And my faithful Dupré,” said Monsieur Gerval; “you tell me nothing of
him.”
“Alas, my dear monsieur, your old servant was, it seems, the first
victim of those monsters; he is no more!”
“The villains! to murder an old man! Ah, me! if I had heeded his
representations--poor Dupré, my imprudence was the cause of your death!
I shall reproach myself for it always. This house has become hateful to
me and I propose to leave it to-morrow!”
Monsieur Gerval shed tears over the fate of his old servant; Catherine
mingled her tears with his, and one and all tried to console the good
man, who blamed himself for the loss of his faithful companion.
The dawn surprised the inhabitants of the cottage in this situation.
Monsieur Gerval consented to take a little rest, while Lucas went to
notify the authorities of the neighboring village of the occurrences of
the night. Catherine, by her master’s orders, made preparations for
their departure, and Adeline promised the old man to tell him before
long the story of her misfortunes.
Jacques found an opportunity to be alone with Adeline. She burned to
question him, but dared not break the silence. He divined her grief, her
tremor, her most secret thoughts.
“Dufresne is no more,” he said to her; “the scoundrel has at last
received the reward of his crimes.”
“Dufresne? What, was Dufresne among those robbers? Unhappy creature that
I am! there is no doubt that he had led him on to the last stages of
crime; Edouard was----”
“Silence! never let this horrible secret be known to any but ourselves,”
said Jacques in a low voice; “the miserable wretch has escaped; let him
drag out his shameful existence in other lands; it is too late for him
to repent, and his presence would be to me, yes, to yourself, the height
of misery. Forget forever a man who did not deserve your love.
Everything combines to make it your bounden duty. The affection which
one retains for a creature so vile, so wretched, is a weakness, a
cowardice, unworthy of a noble and generous heart; live for your
daughter, for me, for all those who love you, and days of peace and
happiness will dawn again for us.”
Adeline threw herself into Jacques’s arms and wiped away the tears that
flowed from her eyes.
“My friend,” she said to him, “I will follow your advice, and you will
be content with me.”
The peasants of the neighborhood, who had learned of the melancholy
events that had happened in the house of their benefactor, hastened to
see him; and the stone over Dupré’s grave indicated the deplorable way
in which the faithful servant had met his end.
Monsieur Gerval at last inquired the name of his preserver.
“My name is Jacques, monsieur,” said he, “formerly a soldier, now a farm
hand.”
“Jacques,” said the old man, “I bear the same name as you. I gave it
also to my godson, a little rascal who would be about your age now, and
whom I have sought in vain in Paris.”
Jacques looked with more attention at him whose life he had saved; he
seemed to recognize in his venerable face the features of a person who
had always manifested the most affectionate interest in him in his
youth. A thousand memories thronged his mind; he could hardly find
strength to ask the good man his name, to which he had paid no attention
in the excitement of the events of the night.
“My name is Gerval,” said the old man, scrutinizing him in his turn with
evident emotion; “I used to be in business, and I had a large factory in
Paris.”
“Is it possible? You are Jacques Gerval, my godfather, whom I used to
love so dearly?”
Jacques leaped on the neck of the old man, who embraced him
affectionately and shed tears of pleasure at finding his dear godson;
while all the witnesses of the scene wept in sympathy.
“Ten thousand squadrons! how people keep finding each other!” said
Sans-Souci; “this is a recognition that I didn’t expect, by a long way,
nor you either, comrade.”
“My dear Jacques,” said Monsieur Gerval, “I have looked for you in all
directions; I was crazy with longing to see you again. Your escapade of
long ago caused me much pain, for I was innocently the cause of it. The
name of Jacques brought you ill luck, my poor godson; it had an
influence over your whole life; your mother neglected you, your father
dared not utter your name before her; I alone was kind to you, but that
was not enough for your sensitive heart. You left your father’s roof,
and I swore to make up for the injustice of your parents if I could ever
find you again. Here you are at last! I recognize you perfectly now!
These scars have not changed the expression of your features. We will
not part again, Jacques; you must close my eyes; you are my child, my
only heir; from this moment my fortune is yours; make use of it to
confer blessings upon all those whom you love.”
Jacques embraced his old godfather once more; he could not credit his
good fortune.
“Dear Adeline,” he said at last, “if I am rich, you shall never know
want again; that is the sweetest pleasure that I shall owe to wealth.”
Adeline and Ermance were wrapped in the old man’s arms in turn.
“So they are your sister and your niece?” he said to Jacques; “are you
married?”
“No,” he replied with some embarrassment; “they are my brother’s wife
and daughter.”
“Your brother--why, that is so,--what has become of him?”
“He is no more. Alas! I no longer have a brother, and she has no
husband.”
“I see that your tears are flowing again, my friends; I have
unintentionally renewed your grief; forgive me; perhaps the memory of
Edouard is painful to you; but I know nothing about your misfortunes;
tell me of them, and then I will try to make you forget them.”
Jacques undertook to tell the old man a part of Adeline’s sorrows, but
he did not make known the whole of his brother’s conduct, and Monsieur
Gerval believed that Edouard had died at Paris in destitution, after
abandoning his wife and child, and that it was the knowledge of her
husband’s unhappy end that had disturbed Adeline’s reason.
The excellent old man felt more than ever inclined to love that young
woman, a model for wives and mothers, and he was determined to become
acquainted with the people at the farm, who had shown so much affection
for Jacques and Adeline.
“That is very easy,” said Sans-Souci; “if you want to make them all
happy, you must go to the farm. Sacrebleu! when they see madame and my
comrade again, I am sure that Louise and Guillot will be happier than
they would if their house was a château.”
“Let us go to the farm,” said honest Gerval; “let us all go there; the
journey will do us good; it will divert my dear Adeline’s thoughts a
little, and it will amuse her little Ermance. Jacques will be able to
help in his turn the people who helped him in his need, and we, my poor
Catherine, we will try, among the people at the farm, to think less of
our old friend Dupré’s death.”
Monsieur Gerval’s plan made them all happy. Catherine was delighted to
leave a house which reminded her of melancholy events, and in which she
felt that she could never again sleep peacefully. Lucas asked his
master’s permission to leave his garden, in order to be his servant; the
old man consented and everybody prepared for departure.
The house in the Vosges was rented to peasants, who established an inn
there, most acceptable to people who travelled through those mountains;
Monsieur Gerval and his servants left the house, their hearts depressed
by the memory of Dupré. Jacques and Adeline turned their eyes away from
the spot which had witnessed Edouard’s infamy, and Sans-Souci looked
back with pride at the apartment where he had saved an old man’s life
and slain two villains.
XXXVIII
THE SMALL GATE IN THE GARDEN ONCE MORE
Sans-Souci rode beside the postilion, despite Monsieur Gerval’s request
that he should take a seat in the carriage; but he was fully determined
to act as scout, fearing mishaps on account of the deep ruts and the
wretched roads. His joy was so great at the thought of returning to the
farm with Madame Murville, that he was unwilling to depend upon any
other than himself to avert such accidents as might happen to them on
the way.
During the journey, Jacques told his old godfather of the adventures of
his youth; the story of the philters and the magnetism amused honest
Gerval and extorted a smile from Adeline.
“What happy chance brought you to our house so opportunely, with your
brave companion, to save us from the knives of the robbers?” old
Catherine asked Jacques.
“A few days after my dear Adeline’s departure,” said Jacques, “as she
did not return to the farm, and as I feared, with good reason, that some
unfortunate accident must have happened to her, I started off with
Sans-Souci, determined to travel all over France if necessary, to find
the mother and child. We went to Paris and stayed there several days,
but all to no purpose; I could not learn anything as to the fate of
those whom I sought. After going back to the farm to bid honest Guillot
and his wife good-bye, we started off again, and we visited one after
another all the provinces of France, stopping in the smallest towns, in
the most modest hamlets, making the most minute inquiries everywhere,
and always disappointed in our hopes. More than a year passed and our
search had come to nothing. But Sans-Souci, whose good spirits never
fail, sustained my courage and revived my hopes when he saw that my
grief and my sadness increased. We at last turned our steps toward this
province, with no expectation of being more fortunate here. After
travelling through part of Franche-Comté, we entered the Vosges. As we
were not afraid of robbers, we often travelled at night, and even more
often slept on the ground, as we did not always find shelter on our
road. Yesterday, however, the weather was so bad, and the snow had
blocked the roads so completely, that we lost ourselves in the woods. I
was numb with cold and almost exhausted, when Sans-Souci spied near at
hand a fine looking house. I dared not ask hospitality, but Sans-Souci
insisted upon stopping; and we were still disputing, when we heard
shrieks inside the house; then we no longer hesitated, but I rang
violently at the gate. Sans-Souci discovered an open window on the
ground floor, from which the bars had been removed, and we jumped into
the room. Imagine my surprise and my joy when I found there the woman
whom I had been looking for so long, and whom I should have left behind
forever, if your cry had not drawn me into the house.”
“My dear Jacques, it was surely Providence that sent you to our help,”
said Monsieur Gerval; “but the greatest miracle of all is that that
event has restored our dear Adeline’s reason.”
“Well, monsieur, didn’t I tell you so?” said Catherine; “all that was
needed was a violent shock, a crisis; and that is just what has
happened.”
The journey was made without accident, and they arrived at Guillot’s
farm. Jacques was conscious of a pleasant thrill of emotion as he passed
the fields in which he had worked.
“Yonder,” he said to good Monsieur Gerval, “is the plow with which I
turned up this ground, so often wet with my sweat.”
“My friend,” replied the old man, “never forget it even in the lap of
prosperity, and the unfortunate will never apply to you in vain.”
A carriage drawn by four horses is a great event in a country town. The
villagers, the farm hands, left their work, and the people from the farm
drew near with curiosity to look at the travellers; but Sans-Souci’s joy
had made itself heard already; he cracked his whip in such a way as to
make the chickens fly a league, while the pigeons took refuge on the
tallest chimneys.
“It’s us, it’s him, it’s her!” he shouted, as soon as he caught sight of
Louise and Guillot; “give us a big feast, my friends,--cabbage soup and
the light white wine! death to the rabbits and chickens!”
The villagers surrounded the carriage; Jacques, Adeline and Ermance were
embraced, caressed, and made much of by everybody. Louise wept, Guillot
swore aloud in his joy, and the old man was deeply moved by the sincere
affection which they all manifested for his children; for that was what
he called Jacques, Adeline and her daughter; and they escorted him in
triumph to the farm, where everything was soon turned topsy-turvy to
celebrate the return of those whom they had not expected to see again.
Amid the joy, the confusion, and the preparations for the feast,
Sans-Souci ran from one to another, tried to help everybody, broke
plates, upset saucepans, and exclaimed at every instant: