difficult part of all to accomplish, since he believed that Brusson
alone was the formidable assassin who for so long a time had held all
Paris enthralled by fear and anxiety, and accordingly he had conceived
such an abhorrence of him that he burst into a violent fit of passion
at the slightest allusion to the notorious trial. De Maintenon,
faithful to her principle of never speaking to the king on any subject
that was disagreeable, refused to take any steps in the affair; and so
Brusson's fate rested entirely in De Scudéri's hands. After long
deliberation she formed a resolution which she carried into execution
as promptly as she had conceived it. Putting on a robe of heavy black,
silk, and hanging Cardillac's valuable necklace round her neck, and
clasping the bracelets on her arms, and throwing a black veil over her
head, she presented herself in De Maintenon's salons at a time when she
knew the king would be present there. This stately robe invested the
venerable lady's noble figure with such majesty as could not fail to
inspire respect, even in the mob of idle loungers who were wont to
collect in anterooms, laughing and jesting in frivolous and irreverent
fashion. They all shyly made way for her; and when she entered the
salon the king himself in his astonishment rose and came to meet her.
As his eyes fell upon the glitter of the costly diamonds in the
necklace and bracelets, he cried, "'Pon my soul, that's Cardillac's
jewellery!" Then, turning to De Maintenon, he added with an arch smile,
"See, Marchioness, how our fair bride mourns for her bridegroom." "Oh!
your Majesty," broke in De Scudéri, taking up the jest and carrying it
on, "would it indeed beseem a deeply sorrowful bride to adorn herself
in this splendid fashion? No, I have quite broken off with that
goldsmith, and should never think about him more, were it not that the
horrid recollection of him being carried past me after he had been
murdered so often recurs to my mind." "What do you say?" asked the
king. "What! you saw the poor devil?" De Scudéri now related in a few
words how she chanced to be near Cardillac's house just as the murder
was discovered--as yet she did not allude to Brusson's being mixed up
in the matter. She sketched Madelon's excessive grief, told what a deep
impression the angelic child made upon her, and described in what way
she had rescued the poor girl out of Desgrais' hands, amid the
approving shouts of the people. Then came the scenes with La Regnie,
with Desgrais, with Brusson--the interest deepening and intensifying
from moment to moment. The king was so carried away by the
extraordinary graphic power and burning eloquence of Mademoiselle's
narration that he did not perceive she was talking about the hateful
trial of the abominable wretch Brusson; he was quite unable to utter a
word; all he could do was to let off the excess of his emotion by an
exclamation from time to time. Ere he knew where he was--he was so
utterly confused by this unprecedented tale which he had heard that he
was unable to order his thoughts--De Scudéri was prostrate at his feet,
imploring pardon for Olivier Brusson. "What are you doing?" burst out
the king, taking her by both hands and forcing her into a chair. "What
do you mean, Mademoiselle? This is a strange way to surprise me. Oh!
it's a terrible story. Who will guarantee me that Brusson's marvellous
tale is true?" Whereupon De Scudéri replied, "Miossens' evidence--an
examination of Cardillac's house--my heart-felt conviction--and oh!
Madelon's virtuous heart, which recognised the like virtue in unhappy
Brusson's." Just as the king was on the point of making some reply he
was interrupted by a noise at the door, and turned round. Louvois, who
during this time was working in the adjoining apartment, looked in with
an expression of anxiety stamped upon his features. The king rose and
left the room, following Louvois.
The two ladies, both De Scudéri and De Maintenon, regarded this
interruption as dangerous, for having been once surprised the king
would be on his guard against falling a second time into the trap set
for him. Nevertheless after a lapse of some minutes the king came back
again; after traversing the room once or twice at a quick pace, he
planted himself immediately in front of De Scudéri and, throwing his
arms behind his back, said in almost an undertone, yet without looking
at her, "I should very much like to see your Madelon." Mademoiselle
replied, "Oh! my precious liege! what a great--great happiness your
condescension will confer upon the poor unhappy child. Oh! the little
girl only waits a sign from you to approach, to throw herself at your
feet." Then she tripped towards the door as quickly as she was able in
her heavy clothing, and called out on the outside of it that the king
would admit Madelon Cardillac; and she came back into the room weeping
and sobbing with overpowering delight and gladness.
De Scudéri had foreseen that some such favour as this might be granted
and so had brought Madelon along with her, and she was waiting with the
Marchioness' lady-in-waiting with a short petition in her hands that
had been drawn up by D'Andilly. After a few minutes she lay prostrate
at the king's feet, unable to speak a word. The throbbing blood was
driven quicker and faster through the poor girl's veins owing to
anxiety, nervous confusion, shy reverence, love, and anguish. Her
cheeks were died with a deep purple blush; her eyes shone with bright
pearly tears, which from time to time fell through her silken eyelashes
upon her beautiful lily-white bosom. The king appeared to be struck
with the surprising beauty of the angelic creature. He softly raised
her up, making a motion as if about to kiss the hand which he had
grasped. But he let it go again and regarded the lovely girl with tears
in his eyes, thus betraying how great was the emotion stirring within
him. De Maintenon softly whispered to Mademoiselle, "Isn't she exactly
like La Vallière,21 the little thing? There's hardly a pin's difference
between them. The king luxuriates in the most pleasing memories. Your
cause is won."
Notwithstanding the low tone in which De Maintenon spoke, the king
appeared to have heard what she said. A fleeting blush passed across
his face; his eye wandered past De Maintenon; he read the petition
which Madelon had presented to him, and then said mildly and kindly, "I
am quite ready to believe, my dear child, that you are convinced of
your lover's innocence; but let us hear what the _Chambre Ardente_ has
got to say to it." With a gentle wave of the hand he dismissed the
young girl, who was weeping as if her heart would break.
To her dismay De Scudéri observed that the recollection of La Vallière,
however beneficial it had appeared to be at first, had occasioned the
king to alter his mind as soon as De Maintenon mentioned her name.
Perhaps the king felt he was being reminded in a too indelicate way of
how he was about to sacrifice strict justice to beauty, or perhaps he
was like the dreamer, when, on somebody's shouting to him, the lovely
dream-images which he was about to clasp, quickly vanish away. Perhaps
he no longer saw _his_ La Vallière before his eyes, but only thought of
Sœur Louise de la Misèricorde (Louise the Sister of Mercy),--the name
La Vallière had assumed on joining the Carmelite nuns--who worried him
with her pious airs and repentance. What else could they now do but
calmly wait for the king's decision?
Meanwhile Count Miossens' deposition before the _Chambre Ardente_ had
become publicly known; and as it frequently happens that the people
rush so readily from one extreme to another, so on this occasion he
whom they had at first cursed as a most abominable murderer and had
threatened to tear to pieces, they now pitied, even before he ascended
the scaffold, as the innocent victim of barbarous justice. Now his
neighbours first began to call to mind his exemplary walk of life, his
great love for Madelon, and the faithfulness and touching submissive
affection which he had cherished for the old goldsmith. Considerable
bodies of the populace began to appear in a threatening manner before
La Regnie's palace and to cry out, "Give us Olivier Brusson; he is
innocent;" and they even stoned the windows, so that La Regnie was
obliged to seek shelter from the enraged mob with the _Maréchaussée_.
Several days passed, and Mademoiselle heard not the least intelligence
about Olivier Brusson's trial. She was quite inconsolable and went off
to Madame de Maintenon; but she assured her that the king maintained a
strict silence about the matter, and it would not be advisable to
remind him of it. Then when she went on to ask with a smile of singular
import how little La Vallière was doing, De Scudéri was convinced that
deep down in the heart of the proud lady there lurked some feeling of
vexation at this business, which might entice the susceptible king into
a region whose charm she could not understand. Mademoiselle need
therefore hope for nothing from De Maintenon.
At last, however, with D'Andilly's help, De Scudéri succeeded in
finding out that the king had had a long and private interview with
Count Miossens. Further, she learned that Bontems, the king's most
confidential valet and general agent, had been to the Conciergerie and
had an interview with Brusson, also that the same Bontems had one night
gone with several men to Cardillac's house, and there spent a
considerable time. Claude Patru, the man who inhabited the lower
storey, maintained that they were knocking about overhead all night
long, and he was sure that Olivier had been with them, for he
distinctly heard his voice. This much was, therefore, at any rate
certain, that the king himself was having the true history of the
circumstances inquired into; but the long delay before he gave his
decision was inexplicable. La Regnie would no doubt do all he possibly
could to keep his grip upon the victim who was to be taken out of his
clutches. And this annihilated every hope as soon as it began to bud.
A month had nearly passed when De Maintenon sent word to Mademoiselle
that the king wished to see her that evening in her salons.
De Scudéri's heart beat high; she knew that Brusson's case would now be
decided. She told poor Madelon so, who prayed fervently to the Virgin
and the saints that they would awaken in the king's mind a conviction
of Brusson's innocence.
Yet it appeared as though the king had completely forgotten the matter,
for in his usual way he dallied in graceful conversation with the two
ladies, and never once made any allusion to poor Brusson. At last
Bontems appeared, and approaching the king whispered certain words in
his ear, but in so low a tone that neither De Maintenon nor De Scudéri
could make anything out of them. Mademoiselle's heart quaked. Then the
king rose to his feet and approached her, saying with brimming eyes, "I
congratulate you, Mademoiselle. Your _protégé_ Olivier Brusson, is
free." The tears gushed from the old lady's eyes; unable to speak a
word, she was about to throw herself at the king's feet. But he
prevented her, saying, "Go, go, Mademoiselle. You ought to be my
advocate in Parliament and plead my causes, for, by St. Denis, there's
nobody on earth could withstand your eloquence; and yet," he continued,
"and yet when Virtue herself has taken a man under her own protection,
is he not safe from all base accusations, from the _Chambre Ardente_
and all other tribunals in the world?" De Scudéri now found words and
poured them out in a stream of glowing thanks. The king interrupted
her, by informing her that she herself would find awaiting her in her
own house still warmer thanks than he had a right to claim from her,
for probably at that moment the happy Olivier was clasping his Madelon
in his arms. "Bontems shall pay you a thousand _Louis d'or_," concluded
the king. "Give them in my name to the little girl as a dowry. Let her
marry her Brusson, who doesn't deserve such good fortune, and then let
them both be gone out of Paris, for such is my will."
La Martinière came running forward to meet her mistress, and Baptiste
behind her; the faces of both were radiant with joy; both cried
delighted, "He is here! he is free! O the dear young people!" The happy
couple threw themselves at Mademoiselle's feet. "Oh! I knew it! I knew
it!" cried Madelon. "I knew that you, that nobody but you, would save
my darling Olivier." "And O my mother," cried Olivier, "my belief in
you never wavered." They both kissed the honoured lady's hands, and
shed innumerable tears. Then they embraced each other again and again,
affirming that the exquisite happiness of that moment outweighed all
the unutterable sufferings of the days that were past; and they vowed
never to part from each other till Death himself came to part them.
A few days later they were united by the blessing of the priest. Even
though it had not been the King's wish, Brusson would not have stayed
in Paris, where everything would have reminded him of the fearful time
of Cardillac's crimes, and where, moreover, some accident might reveal
in pernicious wise his dark secret, now become known to several
persons, and so his peace of mind might be ruined for ever. Almost
immediately after the wedding he set out with his young wife for
Geneva, Mademoiselle's blessings accompanying them on the way. Richly
provided with means through Madelon's dowry, and endowed with uncommon
skill at his trade, as well as with every virtue of a good citizen, he
led there a happy life, free from care. He realised the hopes which had
deceived his father and had brought him at last to his grave.
A year after Brusson's departure there appeared a public proclamation,
signed by Harloy de Chauvalon, Archbishop of Paris, and by the
parliamentary advocate, Pierre Arnaud d'Andilly, which ran to the
effect that a penitent sinner had, under the seal of confession, handed
over to the Church a large and valuable store of jewels and gold
ornaments which he had stolen. Everybody who up to the end of the year
1680 had lost ornaments by theft, particularly by a murderous attack in
the public street, was to apply to D'Andilly, and then, if his
description of the ornament which had been stolen from him tallied
exactly with any of the pieces awaiting identification, and if further
there existed no doubt as to the legitimacy of his claim, he should
receive his property again. Many of those whose names stood on
Cardillac's list as having been, not murdered, but merely stunned by a
blow, gradually came one after the other to the parliamentary advocate,
and received, to their no little amazement, their stolen property back
again. The rest fell to the coffers of the Church of St. Eustace.
FOOTNOTES TO "MADEMOISELLE DE SCUDÉRI":
Footnote 1 Madeleine de Scudéry (1607-1701), a native of Normandy, went
to Paris and became connected with the Hotel Rambouillet. Afterwards,
on its being broken up by the troubles of the Fronde, she formed a
literary circle of her own, their "Saturday gatherings" becoming
celebrated. Mademoiselle de Scudéry wrote some vapid and tedious
novels, amongst which were the _Clélie_ (1656), an historical romance,
to be mentioned presently in the text.]
Footnote 2 The well-known wife of Scarron, then the successor of Madame
de Montespan in the favour of Louis XIV., and afterwards his wife.]
Footnote 3 A kind of mounted gensdarmes or police.]
Footnote 4 Supposed to have been arsenic.]
Footnote 5 These facts are all for the most part historically true.]
Footnote 6 Marie M. d'Aubray, Marquise de Brinvilliers, a notorious
poisoner, executed July 16, 1676. Madame de Sévigné's _Lettres_ contain
interesting information on the events of this period. A special history
of De Brinvillier's trial was also published in the same year, 1676.]
Footnote 7 An old servant of Sainte Croix's, whose real name was Jean
Amelin.]
Footnote 8 Nicholas G. de la Reynie was born at Limoges in 1625; he
acquired a sort of Judge Jeffreys' reputation by his cruelties and
bloodthirstiness as president of the _Chambre Ardente_.]
Footnote 9 These two ladies, Marie and Olympe Mancini, were sisters,
nieces of Mazarin. The latter was promoted to be head of the Queen's
household, and thus provoked the hatred of Madame de Montespan (the
King's mistress) and Louvois, through whose machinations she was
accused before the _Chambre Ardente_.]
Footnote 10 François Henry de Montmorency, Duke of Luxembourg, was
known until 1661 by the name of Bouteville. His name stands high on the
roll of distinguished French Marshals.]
Footnote 11 François Michel Le Tellier, Marquis de Louvois (1639-91),
Louis XIV.'s minister at this time.]
Footnote 12 Her real answer was, "Je le vois en ce moment; il est fort
laid et fort vilain; il est déguisé en conseiller d'état." (I see him
at this moment; he is very ugly and very hideous; he is disguised as a
state councillor.)]
Footnote 13 The Marquis de la Fare had liaisons, first with Madame de
Rochefort, with Louvois for rival, and afterwards with Madame de la
Sablière.]
Footnote 14 This incident is not an invention of the author's. He
states that he got it from Wagenseil's _Chronik von Nürnberg_ (1697),
the said Wagenseilius having been to Paris and paid a visit to
Mademoiselle de Scudéry herself. The answer this lady gave the king is
also historically true, according to Hoffmann, and it was spoken under
circumstances almost exactly like those represented in the text.]
Footnote 15 The old _Louis d'Or_ of Louis XIV. = about £1, 0s. 3d. (Cf.
A _Frederick d'or_ was a gold coin worth five thalers.--Note, p. 281,
vol. I.)]
Footnote 16 One of Louis XIV.'s former mistresses--Marie de Roussille,
Duchess de Fontanges (1661-1681)--is described as being of great
beauty, but deficient in intellectual grace and charm of manner, and as
being arrogant and cold-hearted.]
Footnote 17 Jean de la Chapelle (1655-1723) attempted to fill the gap
left in the dramatic world by Racine's retirement from play-writing,
though,--it is said, with but indifferent success.]
Footnote 18 It was constructed after plans by this Claude Perrault in
1666-1670.]
Footnote 19 The well-known pleasure castle erected by Louis XIV. at
Versailles for De Maintenon.]
Footnote 20 Daughter of Charles I. and Henrietta Maria of France; she
died 29th June, 1670, believing herself to have been poisoned; and this
was currently accepted in France, though now rejected by historians as
incorrect.]
Footnote 21 Françoise Louise, Duchess de La Vallière, a former mistress
of Louis XIV. On being supplanted in the monarch's favour by Madame de
Montespan, she entered the order of Carmelite nuns.
_GAMBLER'S LUCK._
Pyrmont had a larger concourse of visitors than ever in the summer of
18--. The number of rich and illustrious strangers increased from day
to day, greatly exciting the zeal of speculators of all kinds. Hence it
was also that the owners of the faro-bank took care to pile up their
glittering gold in bigger heaps, in order that this, the bait of the
noblest game, which they, like good skilled hunters, knew how to decoy,
might preserve its efficacy.
Who does not know how fascinating an excitement gambling is,
particularly at watering-places, during the season, where every
visitor, having laid aside his ordinary habits and course of life,
deliberately gives himself up to leisure and ease and exhilarating
enjoyment? then gambling becomes an irresistible attraction. People who
at other times never touch a card are to be seen amongst the most eager
players; and besides, it is the fashion, especially in higher circles,
for every one to visit the bank in the evening and lose a little money
at play.
The only person who appeared not to heed this irresistible attraction,
and this injunction of fashion, was a young German Baron, whom we will
call Siegfried. When everybody else hurried off to the play-house, and
he was deprived of all means and all prospect of the intellectual
conversation he loved, he preferred either to give reins to the flights
of his fancy in solitary walks or to stay in his own room and take up a
book, or even indulge in poetic attempts, in writing, himself.
As Siegfried was young, independent, rich, of noble appearance and
pleasing disposition, it could not fail but that he was highly esteemed
and loved, and that he had the most decisive good-fortune with the fair
sex. And in everything that he took up or turned his attention to,
there seemed to be a singularly lucky star presiding over his actions.
Rumour spoke of many extraordinary love-intrigues which had been forced
upon him, and out of which, however ruinous they would in all
likelihood have been for many other young men, he escaped with
incredible ease and success. But whenever the conversation turned upon
him and his good fortune, the old gentlemen of his acquaintance were
especially fond of relating a story about a watch, which had happened
in the days of his early youth. For it chanced once that Siegfried,
while still under his guardian's care, had quite unexpectedly found
himself so straitened for money on a journey that he was absolutely
obliged to sell his gold watch, which was set with brilliants, merely
in order to get on his way. He had made up his mind that he would have
to throw away his valuable watch for an old song; but as there happened
to be in the hotel where he had put up at a young prince who was just
in want of such an ornament, the Baron actually received for it more
than it was really worth. More than a year passed and Siegfried had
become his own master, when he read in the newspapers in another place
that a watch was to be made the subject of a lottery. He took a ticket,
which cost a mere trifle, and won--the same gold watch set with
brilliants which he had sold. Not long afterwards he exchanged this
watch for a valuable ring. He held office for a short time under the
Prince of G----, and when he retired from his post the Prince presented
to him as a mark of his good-will the very identical gold watch set
with brilliants as before, together with a costly chain.
From this story they passed to Siegfried's obstinacy in never on any
account touching a card; why, with his strongly pronounced good-luck he
had all the more inducement to play; and they were unanimous in coming
to the conclusion that the Baron, notwithstanding all his other
conspicuous good qualities, was a miserly fellow, far too careful and
far too stingy to expose himself to the smallest possible loss. That
the Baron's conduct was in every particular the direct contrary of that
of an avaricious man had no weight with them; and as is so often the
case, when the majority have set their hearts upon tagging a
questioning 'but' on to the good name of a talented man, and are
determined to find this 'but' at any cost, even though it should be in
their own imagination, so in the present case the sneering allusion to
Siegfried's aversion to play afforded them infinite satisfaction.
Siegfried was not long in learning what was being said about him; and
since, generous and liberal as he was, there was nothing he hated and
detested more than miserliness, he made up his mind to put his
traducers to shame by ransoming himself from this foul aspersion at the
cost of a couple of hundred _Louis d'or_, or even more if need be,
however much disgusted he might feel at gambling. He presented himself
at the faro-bank with the deliberate intention of losing the large sum
which he had put in his pocket; but in play also the good luck which
stood by him in everything he undertook did not prove unfaithful. Every
card he chose won. The cabalistic calculations of seasoned old players
were shivered to atoms against the Baron's play. No matter whether he
changed his cards or continued to stake on1 the same one, it was all
the same: he was always a winner. In the Baron they had the singular
spectacle of a punter at variance with himself because the cards fell
favourable for him; and notwithstanding that the explanation of his
behaviour was pretty patent, yet people looked at each other
significantly and gave utterance in no ambiguous terms to the opinion
that the Baron, carried along by his penchant for the marvellous, might
eventually become insane, for any player who could be dismayed at his
run of luck must surely be insane.
The very fact of having won a considerable sum of money made it
obligatory upon the Baron to go on playing until he should have carried
out his original purpose; for in all probability his large win would be
followed by a still larger loss. But people's expectations were not in
the remotest degree realised, for the Baron's striking good-luck
continued to attend him.