Tales from Many Sources Part 30

"Perine only looking at pretty bright figures, mother; so pretty with the light on them. 7639."

"What is she talking about?" said Madame Didier, puzzled, "7639?"

"Yes, yes," said the girl eagerly, and then she broke off again into her lamentations, which lasted until Marie had bathed her hurt, and soothed her by degrees. But when she proposed to take her to the _cremerie_, Perine began to wail again, and it was evident that something had so terrified her, that it would be cruelty to force her out into the streets. Every now and then she let drop another word or two on the subject of her fright; her poor disconnected brain seemed unable to grasp anything as a whole; something would float across it and be lost.

Marie had grown apt at gathering together these cobweb strands, and disentangling them, but now even her ingenuity was at fault, and the number was the only point which stood out clearly from wavering words about a man and a box. She gathered at last that somewhere or other this number with the light s.h.i.+ning on it had attracted Perine's attention, that she went to look, and that a man pushed her away with a blow, and with threats which had been strong enough to send her terrified from the spot. Evidently she scarcely felt secure in her present quarters, and piteously implored Marie not to suffer him to come. Marie soothed her, and hoped that Jean's compa.s.sion might be as strong as her own. Had she not been taken up with Perine, she would have more quickly caught the impatient scratching like a mouse in the wainscot, with which he summoned her.

He made signs that he must speak, and with some difficulty she got Perine into the landing, thrusting into her hands the bread which would have been her own portion. Then she locked her door and went back to Jean, who was eagerly waiting.

"Marie, I have a thought," he began. "What do you make out of all she says?"

"Next to nothing," said his wife, shrugging her shoulders.

"No?" said Jean, feverishly and a little contemptuously. "Suppose I suggested that she saw the figures on the lamp of a cab, what then?"

"What then?" repeated she, puzzled.

"And a box, and a man angry with her for looking. What then?"

"Oh, I don't understand!" said Marie, shaking her head.

"Heavens, that any one should be so dense! Have you forgotten the robbery?"

"In the Rue Vivienne--oh, do you mean--do you think it possible! Jean, how clever you are! I wonder whether--shall I run to the place and see?"

"To the place, and even if they were still there, get yourself knocked on the head!"

"I should not mind," cried Marie eagerly. "I should mind nothing with such a hope before me."

"No, my good Marie," Jean returned grandly; "you have excellent intentions, but it is well you have some one to guide you. The first thing is to find a _commissaire_ of police."

The name seemed terrible; she turned pale, but he hurried on, losing himself again in his excitement, and with all his haggard features working:

"Yes, yes, I know what you will say, but do you not understand that if this is what I believe, anything will be forgiven to the man who can put the _sergent de ville_ on the track?"

"_If!_ At any rate I will do what you bid me," the young wife said, trembling. "There is a _bureau_ not so far away. Only promise me you will be prudent, for I must leave Perine here, though I will lock the door. Remember, M. Plon has his own keys."

Nor would she relax one of her precautions in spite of his heated impatience. But she had spoken truly, for after the daily fear of years, the personal danger of encountering the robbers a.s.suredly seemed nothing in comparison with having to do with the police. She told Perine where she was to sit, and tried to extract more coherent details, but only as to the figures was Perine clear. These she repeated again and again, while more than once Jean's sharp whisper reached his wife's ears. "Make haste, make haste!" and she signed caution in return.

When she had gone there was for some time absolute silence in the garret, Jean having flung himself on his bed, and given himself up to a wild delirium of hope. By-and-by this took the form of restlessness. He tossed and tumbled on his bed, and, his ear full of sounds which expectation and imagination brought there, sometimes started up, keen to listen, and the next moment pressed his fingers into his ears, to try to shut out these delusive sounds. Then he became almost as reckless as to Perine; what did her seeing him matter when so soon he would be a free man? Once or twice the bed creaked and groaned under his tossings, so that he imagined she would surely look round. But no, the girl was blind and deaf to everything but Marie's orders, she sat squarely on the wooden stool with her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands, every now and then uttering a disjointed sob, until fatigue and tears brought about their natural consequence, and it became evident that she was asleep.

Jean got up and shook himself and looked out at her, his head in a whirl. He began to think that Marie was long absent, and to lay the blame on the back which was always ready to bear his burdens.

"She will not know where to go, she will stand gossipping with any fool who asks her a question, and in this time I would wager a piece of twenty _sous_ the police or some other busy-body will have got on the track. What more likely? And there's an end to our luck. Why did I let her waste all these moments? Why didn't I go myself? Women always muddle things. There would have been a scene, beyond doubt. '_Hola!_--thunder and lightning, who may this be?'" Jean planted himself in an att.i.tude, and struck his chest violently. "Then I should have drawn myself up, always with dignity--thus--'This, gentlemen, is none other than Jean Didier!'--'Who? What!'--'Jean Didier, at your service, gentlemen, falsely denounced as Communist, executed and reported dead, but, as you see alive, and able to render an important service to an ungrateful country.'--That sounds sublime! I flatter myself it would have produced an impression. Why didn't I go? Women, with all their good intentions, haven't an idea of the value of a stroke like that! It requires genius.

And I foresee my excellent Marie will muddle the whole affair, very likely allow them to pick her brains and cajole the number out of her, then one of these _messieurs_ will slip off and secure the reward."

Excitement got a strong hold upon Jean as this idea presented itself, and his castles toppled over. "That's it, that's how it will go! And I deserve it for having left such a delicate affair in the hands of a woman. I could have managed it to a turn, and here I have let her go off, and the whole thing will slip through her fingers. I could beat myself with vexation."

In effect, he stamped his foot with such violence that Perine jumped up and, looking round, saw him vanis.h.i.+ng behind the curtains. She shrieked with terror, "The man! Oh, it's the man!"

White as death, Jean rushed out and tried to calm her.

"Hush, child, hus.h.!.+ it's only me!"

But Perine was past all control, she screamed for "Mother!" for "M.

Plon!" until it seemed to Jean that not only the house but the whole neighbourhood would presently be on him. He tried coaxing, he tried menace, but Perine shrieked the more.

"Will you hold your tongue!" he cried, with a wild thought of strangling her. "I'm a friend, I'm not the man; I won't touch you. Perine, Perine, don't cry out so, look at me!"

At this appeal she hid her eyes with her hands.

"The man! the man! Mother! Help!" Nevertheless, though it seemed to poor Jean that the very streets must tingle with her cries, it is possible, for the upper-stories of the house had early risers for their dwellers, that the deaf old woman left on the fifth floor might have heard nothing; but unfortunately M. Plon had taken it into his head to make a visitation to those uninhabited rooms of his in which some one had housed his furniture, and at this moment was on his way. He knew that Madame Didier was out, and Perine's screams seemed to point to fire or something equally disastrous. The door was locked, but he had all his keys about him, and soon succeeded in opening it, when Perine in a transport of terror rushed at him, and flung herself into his arms with a force which might have knocked over a less ponderous rescuer, and effectually blocked the door at which Jean glanced longingly.

"_Hola!_" cried the astonished landlord. "_Que diable!_ A man in Madame Didier's room! What's the meaning of all this? Police!"

Jean advanced with a threatening gesture, and the valiant Plon quickly retreated. For one wild moment his lodger contemplated the chances which lay in knocking him down, and taking refuge in flight, but he reflected that if the house were alarmed he would not get off, and if not, it might be possible to enlist M. Plon on his side. He therefore went quietly back into the room, saying, "Do not fear, M. Plon.... I give you my word, I am not going to fight."

"You had better not," said the other bl.u.s.teringly. "You had better not!"

"Oh, as to that ..." said Jean with anger.

M. Plon retreated a second time before this demonstration, and again lifted his voice for the police.

"They'll be here fast enough, no doubt," said Jean quietly, though there was a bitter feeling of downfall in his heart. "Meanwhile, perhaps it might be as well for me to tell you who I am."

"Who you are?" repeated M. Plon indignantly. "It's easy enough to see that, my fine fellow, though what you could expect to steal here is not so clear. You've got the air of a gallows bird, and it's well this poor child has me--the brave Plon--to protect her."

"Come, come, M. Plon--listen to reason. I'm the husband of Madame Didier."

"The husband of Madame Didier? What, when she hasn't got one!" cried the other, now fairly enraged.

"Nevertheless, you might remember Jean Didier--if only you would," said Jean imploringly, for he began to think there was yet a chance for him if he could conciliate his landlord, and he made a few steps towards him holding out his hands. But Perine screamed and Plon waved him energetically back. Finding his prisoner cowed he launched some strong invectives at him.

"You're a thief and a cut-throat, that's what you are!" he said, s.h.i.+vering. "Keep off, keep off! You could no more stand in Jean Didier's shoes than you could in mine, for he was a decent, peaceable young fellow, and more than that, he was shot. So you've got hold of the wrong story here, Monsieur Blacklegs, and one that won't serve you much in the _violon_."

"It's true, I give you my word," said Jean.

"They did their best to shoot me, but I was only wounded. Marie got me up here, and here I have been ever since."

"Was there ever such a cool hand!" cried Plon wrathfully. "And you absolutely think to persuade me of this when not a soul comes in and out of this house without my knowing. A pretty tale!"

Jean muttered "Blockhead!" under his breath. Aloud he said, "But--M.

Plon--am I not here now?"

"No, you are not!" Plon retorted,--"or if you are, you shall soon be out of it again. Police! Help, help!"

"If only Marie were here!" groaned Jean. "M. Plon, I implore you to have pity! wait until my wife arrives; you will believe her if you can't believe your own eyes. Lock me into the room, do whatever you like--only wait!"

If M. Plon had indeed had sufficient calmness to contemplate the figure before him, it is probable that in spite of alteration he would have found something to recognise. But he was in a state of perturbed excitement which altogether confused his judgment, and only inclined him to refuse all his prisoner's suggestions. He therefore set himself more vigorously than ever to bawl for help, and Perine seconded him with all her might. The next moment Jean went back to the table, seated himself upon it and crossed his arms. He had recognised Marie's step.

She came into the room pale as death, and even as she came, hesitated, and held up her hand, as if she would have prevented a man who was with her from following. But seeing that she was too late, and that Jean was already discovered, she rushed into his arms, crying out: