Madelon, greeted me with the most friendly good-will, and at dinner
drank a bottle of better wine, of a brand that he only produced on high
holidays and festivals, and he also sang and gave vent to his feelings
in exuberant manifestations of joy. When Madelon had left us I rose to
return to the workshop. 'Sit still, lad,' said Cardillac; 'we'll not
work any more to-day. Let us drink another glass together to the health
of the most estimable and most excellent lady in Paris.' After I had
joined glasses with him and had drained mine to the bottom, he went on,
'Tell me, Olivier, how do you like these verses,'
'Un amant qui craint les voleuis
N'est point digne d'amour.'
"Then he went on to relate the episode between you and the king in De
Maintenon's salons, adding that he had always honoured you as he never
had any other human creature, and that you were gifted with such lofty
virtue as to make his ill-omened star of Destiny grow pale, and that if
you were to wear the handsomest ornament he ever made it would never
provoke in him either an evil spectre or murderous thoughts. 'Listen
now, Olivier,' he said, 'what I have made up my mind to do. A long time
ago I received an order for a necklace and a pair of bracelets for
Henrietta of England,20 and the stones were given me for the purpose.
The work turned out better than the best I had ever previously done;
but my heart was torn at the thought of parting from the ornaments, for
they had become my pet jewels. You are aware of the Princess's unhappy
death by sinister means. The ornaments I retained, and will now send
them to Mademoiselle de Scudéri in the name of the persecuted band of
robbers as a token of my respect and gratitude. Not only will
Mademoiselle receive an eloquent token of her triumph, but I shall also
laugh Desgrais and his associates to scorn, as they deserve to be
laughed at. You shall take her the ornaments.' As Cardillac mentioned
your name, Mademoiselle, I seemed to see a dark veil thrown aside,
revealing the fair, bright picture of my early happy childhood days in
gay and cheerful colours. A wondrous source of comfort entered my soul,
a ray of hope, before which all my dark spirits faded away. Possibly
Cardillac noted the effect which his words had upon me and interpreted
it in his own way, 'You appear to find pleasure in my plan,' he said.
'And I may as well state to you that I have been commanded to do this
by an inward monitor deep down in my heart, very different from that
which demands its holocaust of blood like some ravenous beast of prey.
I often experience very remarkable feelings; I am powerfully affected
by an inward apprehension, by fear of something terrible, the horrors
of which breathe upon me in the air from a far-distant world of the
Supernatural. I then feel even as if the crimes I commit as the blind
instrument of my ill-starred Destiny may be charged upon my immortal
soul, which has no share in them. During one such mood I vowed to make
a diamond crown for the Holy Virgin in St. Eustace's Church. But so
often as I thought seriously about setting to work upon it, I was
overwhelmed by this unaccountable apprehension, so that I gave up the
project altogether. Now I feel as if I must humbly offer an
acknowledgment at the altar of virtue and piety by sending to De
Scudéri the handsomest ornaments I have ever worked.'
"Cardillac, who was intimately acquainted with your habits and ways of
life. Mademoiselle, gave me instructions respecting the manner and the
hour--the how and the when--in which I was to deliver the ornaments,
which he locked in an elegant case, into your hands. I was completely
thrilled with delight, for Heaven itself now pointed out to me through
the miscreant Cardillac, a way by which I might rescue myself from the
hellish thraldom in which I, a sinner and outcast, was slowly
perishing; these at least were my thoughts. In express opposition to
Cardillac's will I resolved to force myself in to an interview with
you. I intended to reveal myself as Anne Brusson's son, as your own
adoptive child, and to throw myself at your feet and confess all--all.
I knew that you would have been so touched by the overwhelming misery
which would have threatened poor innocent Madelon by any disclosure
that you would have respected the secret; whilst your keen, sagacious
mind would, I felt assured, have devised some means by which
Cardillac's infamous wickedness might have been prevented without any
exposure. Pray do not ask me what shape these means would have taken; I
do not know. But that you would save Madelon and me, of that I was most
firmly convinced, as firmly as I believe in the comfort and help of the
Holy Virgin. You know how my intention was frustrated that night,
Mademoiselle. I still cherished the hope of being more successful
another time. Soon after this Cardillac seemed suddenly to lose all his
good-humour. He went about with a cloudy brow, fixed his eyes on
vacancy in front of him, murmured unintelligible words, and
gesticulated with his hands, as if warding off something hostile from
him; his mind appeared to be tormented by evil thoughts. Thus he
behaved during the course of one whole morning. Finally he sat down to
his work-table; but he soon leapt up again peevishly and looked out of
the window, saying moodily and earnestly, 'I wish after all that
Henrietta of England had worn my ornaments.' These words struck terror
to my heart. Now I knew that his warped mind was again enslaved by the
abominable spectre of murder, and that the voice of the fiend was again
ringing audibly in his ears. I saw your life was threatened by the
villainous demon of murder. If Cardillac only had his ornaments in his
hands again, you were saved.
"Every moment the danger increased. Then I met you on the Pont Neuf,
and forced my way to your carriage, and threw you that note, beseeching
you to restore the ornaments which you had received to Cardillac's
hands at once. You did not come. My distress deepened to despair when
on the following day Cardillac talked about nothing else but the
magnificent ornaments which he had seen before his eyes during the
night. I could only interpret that as having reference to your
jewellery, and I was certain that he was brooding over some fresh
murderous onslaught which he had assuredly determined to put into
execution during the coming night. I must save you, even if it cost
Cardillac's own life. So soon as he had locked himself in his own room
after evening prayers, according to his wont, I climbed out of a window
into the court-yard, slipped through the opening in the wall, and took
up my station at no great distance, hidden in the deep shade. I had not
long to wait before Cardillac appeared and stole softly up the street,
me following him. He bent his steps towards the Rue St. Honoré; my
heart trembled with apprehension. All of a sudden I lost sight of him.
I made up my mind to take post at your house-door. Then there came an
officer past me, without perceiving me, singing and gaily humming a
tune to himself, as on the occasion when chance first made me a witness
of Cardillac's bloody deeds. But that selfsame moment a dark figure
leapt forward and fell upon the officer. It was Cardillac. This murder
I would at any rate prevent. With a loud shout I reached the spot in
two or three bounds, when, not the officer, but Cardillac, fell on the
floor groaning. The officer let his dagger fall, and drawing his sword
put himself in a posture for fighting, imagining that I was the
murderer's accomplice; but when he saw that I was only concerned about
the slain man, and did not trouble myself about him, he hurried away.
Cardillac was still alive. After picking up and taking charge of the
dagger which the officer had let fall, I loaded my master upon my
shoulders and painfully hugged him home, carrying him up to the
workshop by way of the concealed stairs. The rest you know.
"You see, honoured lady, that my only crime consists in the fact that I
did not betray Madelon's father to the officers of the law, and so put
an end to his enormities. My hands are clean of any deed of blood. No
torture shall extort from me a confession of Cardillac's crimes. I will
not, in defiance of the Eternal Power, which veiled the father's
hideous bloodguiltiness from the eyes of the virtuous daughter, be
instrumental in unfolding all the misery of the past, which would now
have a far more disastrous effect upon her, nor do I wish to aid
worldly vengeance in rooting up the dead man from the earth which
covers him, nor that the executioner should now brand the mouldering
bones with dishonour. No; the beloved of my soul will weep for me as
one who has fallen innocent, and time will soften her sorrow; but how
irretrievable a shock would it be if she learnt of the fearful and
diabolical deeds of her dearly-loved father."
Olivier paused; but now a torrent of tears suddenly burst from his
eyes, and he threw himself at De Scudéri's feet imploringly. "Oh! now
you are convinced of my innocence--oh! surely you must be! have pity
upon me; tell me how my Madelon bears it." Mademoiselle summoned La
Martinière, and in a few moments more Madelon's arms were round
Olivier's neck. "Now all is well again since you are here. I knew it, I
knew this most noble-minded lady would save you," cried Madelon again
and again; and Olivier forgot his situation and all that was impending
over him, he was free and happy. It was most touching to hear the two
mutually pour out all their troubles, and relate all that they had
suffered for one another's sake; then they embraced one another anew,
and wept with joy to see each other again.
If De Scudéri had not been already convinced of Olivier's innocence she
would assuredly have been satisfied of it now as she sat watching the
two, who forgot the world and their misery and their excessive
sufferings in the happiness of their deep and genuine mutual affection.
"No," she said to herself, "it is only a pure heart which is capable of
such happy oblivion."
The bright beams of morning broke in through the window. Desgrais
knocked softly at the room door, and reminded those within that it was
time to take Olivier Brusson away, since this could not be done later
without exciting a commotion. The lovers were obliged to separate.
The dim shapeless feelings which had taken possession of De Scudéri's
mind on Olivier's first entry into the room, had now acquired form and
content--and in a fearful way. She saw the son of her dear Anne
innocently entangled in such a way that there hardly seemed any
conceivable means of saving him from a shameful death. She honoured the
young man's heroic purpose in choosing to die under an unjust burden of
guilt rather than divulge a secret that would certainly kill his
Madelon. In the whole region of possibility she could not find any
means whatever to snatch the poor fellow out of the hands of the cruel
tribunal. And yet she had a most clear conception that she ought not to
hesitate at any sacrifice to avert this monstrous perversion of justice
which was on the point of being committed. She racked her brain with a
hundred different schemes and plans, some of which bordered upon the
extravagant, but all these she rejected almost as soon as they
suggested themselves. Meanwhile the rays of hope grew fainter and
fainter, till at last she was on the verge of despair. But Madelon's
unquestioning child-like confidence, the rapturous enthusiasm with
which she spoke of her lover, who now, absolved of all guilt, would
soon clasp her in his arms as his bride, infused De Scudéri with new
hope and courage, exactly in proportion as she was the more touched by
the girl's words.
At length, for the sake of doing something. De Scudéri wrote a long
letter to La Regnie, in which she informed him that Olivier Brusson had
proved to her in the most convincing manner his perfect innocence of
Cardillac's death, and that it was only his heroic resolve to carry
with him into the grave a secret, the revelation of which would entail
disaster upon virtue and innocence, that prevented him making a
revelation to the court which would undoubtedly free him, not only from
the fearful suspicion of having murdered Cardillac, but also of having
belonged to a band of vile assassins. De Scudéri did all that burning
zeal, that ripe and spirited eloquence could effect, to soften La
Regnie's hard heart. In the course of a few hours La Regnie replied
that he was heartily glad to learn that Olivier Brusson had justified
himself so completely in the eyes of his noble and honoured
protectress. As for Olivier's heroic resolve to carry with him into the
grave a secret that had an important bearing upon the crime under
investigation, he was sorry to say that the _Chambre Ardente_ could not
respect such heroic courage, but would rather be compelled to adopt the
strongest means to break it. At the end of three days he hoped to be in
possession of this extraordinary secret, which it might be presumed
would bring wonders to light.
De Scudéri knew only too well what those means were by which the savage
La Regnie intended to break Brusson's heroic constancy. She was now
sure that the unfortunate was threatened with the rack. In her
desperate anxiety it at length occurred to her that the advice of a
doctor of the law would be useful, if only to effectuate a postponement
of the torture. The most renowned advocate in Paris at that time was
Pierre Amaud d'Andilly; and his sound knowledge and liberal mind were
only to be compared to his virtue and his sterling honesty. To him,
therefore, De Scudéri had recourse, and she told him all, so far as she
could, without violating Brusson's secret She expected that D'Andilly
would take up the cause of the innocent man with zeal, but she found
her hopes most bitterly deceived. The lawyer listened calmly to all she
had to say, and then replied in Boileau's words, smiling as he did so,
"_Le vrai peut quelque fois n'être pas vraisemblable_"(Sometimes truth
wears an improbable garb). He showed De Scudéri that there were most
noteworthy grounds for suspicion against Brusson, that La Regnie's
proceedings could neither be called cruel nor yet hurried, rather they
were perfectly within the law--nay, that he could not act otherwise
without detriment to his duties as judge. He himself did not see his
way to saving Brusson from torture, even by the cleverest defence.
Nobody but Brusson himself could avert it, either by a candid
confession or at least by a most detailed account of all the
circumstances attending Cardillac's murder, and this might then perhaps
furnish grounds for instituting fresh inquiries. "Then I will throw
myself at the king's feet and pray for mercy," said De Scudéri,
distracted, her voice half choked by tears. "For Heaven's sake, don't
do it, Mademoiselle, don't do it. I would advise you to reserve this
last resource, for if it once fail it is lost to you for ever. The king
will never pardon a criminal of this class: he would draw down upon
himself the bitterest reproaches of the people, who would believe their
lives were always in danger. Possibly Brusson, either by disclosing his
secret or by some other means, may find a way to allay the suspicions
which are working against him. Then will be the time to appeal to the
king for mercy, for he will not inquire what has been proved before the
court, but be guided by his own inner conviction." De Scudéri had no
help for it but to admit that D'Andilly with his great experience was
in the right.
Late one evening she was sitting in her own room in very great trouble,
appealing to the Virgin and the Holy Saints, and thinking whatever
should she do to save the unhappy Brusson, when La Martinière came in
to announce that Count de Miossens, colonel of the King's Guards, was
urgently desiring to speak to Mademoiselle.
"Pardon me, Mademoiselle," said Miossens, bowing with military grace,
"pardon me for intruding upon you so late, at such an inconvenient
hour. We soldiers cannot do as we like, and then a couple of words will
suffice to excuse me. It is on Olivier Brusson's account that I have
come." De Scudéri's attention was at once on the stretch as to what was
to follow, and she said, "Olivier Brusson?--that most unhappy of
mortals? What have you to do with him?" "Yes, I did indeed think,"
continued Miossens smiling, "that your _protégé's_ name would be
sufficient to procure me a favourable hearing. All the public are
convinced of Brusson's guilt. But you, I know, cling to another
opinion, which is based, to be sure, upon the protestations of the
accused, as it is said; with me, however, it is otherwise. Nobody can
be more firmly convinced that Brusson is innocent of Cardillac's death
than I am." "Oh! go on and tell me; go on, pray!" exclaimed De Scudéri,
whilst her eyes sparkled with delight. Miossens continued, speaking
with emphasis, "It was I--I who stabbed the old goldsmith not far from
your house here in the Rue St. Honors." "By the Saints!--you--you?"
exclaimed Mademoiselle. "And I swear to you, Mademoiselle," went on
Miossens, "that I am proud of the deed. For let me tell you that
Cardillac was the most abandoned and hypocritical of villains, that it
was he who committed those dreadful murders and robberies by night, and
so long escaped all traps laid for him. Somehow, I can't say how, a
strong feeling of suspicion was aroused in my mind against the old
reprobate when he brought me an ornament I had ordered and was so
visibly disturbed on giving it to me; and then he inquired particularly
for whom I wanted the ornament, and also questioned my valet in the
most artful way as to when I was in the habit of visiting a certain
lady. I had long before noticed that all the unfortunates who fell
victims to this abominable epidemic of murder and robbery bore one and
the same wound. I felt sure that the assassin had by practice grown
perfect in inflicting it, and that it must prove instantaneously fatal,
and upon this he relied implicitly. If it failed, then it would come to
a fight on equal terms. This led me to adopt a measure of precaution
which is so simple that I cannot comprehend why it did not occur to
others, who might then have safeguarded themselves against any
murderous assault that threatened them. I wore a light shirt of mail
under my tunic. Cardillac attacked me from behind. He laid hold upon me
with the strength of a giant, but the surely-aimed blow glanced aside
from the iron. That same moment I wrested myself free from his grasp,
and drove my dagger, which I held in readiness, into his heart." "And
you maintained silence?" asked De Scudéri; "you did not notify to the
tribunals what you had done?" "Permit me to remark," went on Miossens,
"permit me to remark, Mademoiselle, that such an announcement, if it
had not at once entailed disastrous results upon me, would at any rate
have involved me in a most detestable trial. Would La Regnie, who
ferrets out crime everywhere--would he have believed my unsupported
word if I had accused honest Cardillac, the pattern of piety and
virtue, of an attempted murder? What if the sword of justice had turned
its point against me?" "That would not have been possible," said De
Scudéri, "your birth--your rank"---- "Oh! remember Marshal de
Luxembourg, whose whim for having his horoscope cast by Le Sage brought
him under the suspicion of being a poisoner, and eventually into the
Bastille. No! by St. Denis! I would not risk my freedom for an hour--
not even the lappet of my ear--in the power of that madman La Regnie,
who only too well would like to have his knife at the throats of all of
us." "But do you know you are bringing innocent Brusson to the
scaffold?" "Innocent?" rejoined Miossens, "innocent? Are you speaking
of the villain Cardillac's accomplice, Mademoiselle? he who helped him
in his evil deeds? who deserves to die a hundred deaths? No, indeed! He
would meet a just end on the scaffold. I have only disclosed to you,
honoured lady, the details of the occurrence on the presupposition
that, without delivering me into the hands of the _Chambre Ardent_, you
will yet find a way to turn my secret to account on behalf of your _
protégé_."
De Scudéri was so enraptured at finding her conviction of Brusson's
innocence confirmed in such a decisive manner that she did not scruple
to tell the Count all, since he already knew of Cardillac's iniquity,
and to exhort him to accompany her to see D'Andilly. To _him_ all
should be revealed under the seal of secrecy, and he should advise them
what was to be done.
After De Scudéri had related all to D'Andilly down to the minutest
particulars, he inquired once more about several of the most
insignificant features. In particular he asked Count Miossens whether
he was perfectly satisfied that it was Cardillac who had attacked him,
and whether he would be able to identify Olivier Brusson as the man who
had carried away the corpse. De Miossens made answer, "Not only did I
very well recognise Cardillac by the bright light of the moon, but I
have also seen in La Regnie's hands the dagger with which Cardillac was
stabbed; it is mine, distinguished by the elegant workmanship of the
hilt. As I only stood one yard from the young man, and his hat had
fallen off, I distinctly saw his features, and should certainly
recognise him again."
After gazing thoughtfully before him for some minutes in silence,
D'Andilly said, "Brusson cannot possibly be saved from the hands of
justice in any ordinary and regular way. Out of consideration for
Madelon he refuses to accuse Cardillac of being the thievish assassin.
And he must continue to do so, for even if he succeeded in proving his
statements by pointing out the secret exit and the accumulated store of
stolen jewellery, he would still be liable to death as a partner in
Cardillac's guilt. And the bearings of things would not be altered if
Count Miossens were to state to the judges the real details of the
meeting with Cardillac. The only thing we can aim at securing is a
postponement of the torture. Let Count Miossens go to the
_Conciergerie_, have Olivier Brusson brought forward, and recognise in
him the man who carried away Cardillac's dead body. Then let him hurry
off to La Regnie and say, 'I saw a man stabbed in the Rue St. Honoré,
and as I stood close beside the corpse another man sprang forward and
stooped down over the dead body; but on finding signs of life in him he
lifted him on his shoulders and carried him away. This man I recognise
in Olivier Brusson.' This evidence would lead to another hearing of
Brusson and to his confrontation with Miossens. At all events the
torture would be delayed and further inquiries would be instituted.
Then will come the proper time to appeal to the king. It may be left to
your sagacity, Mademoiselle, to do this in the adroitest manner. As far
as my opinion goes, I think it would be best to disclose to him the
whole mystery. Brusson's confessions are borne out by this statement of
Count Miossens; and they may, perhaps, be still further substantiated
by secret investigations at Cardillac's own house. All this could not
afford grounds for a verdict of acquittal by the court, but it might
appeal to the king's feelings, that it is his prerogative to speak
mercy where the judge can only condemn, and so elicit a favourable
decision from His Majesty." Count Miossens followed implicitly
D'Andilly's advice; and the result was what the latter had foreseen.