The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Ii Part 24

"My pretty la.s.s," said the viscount to the Goualeuse, whose lovely countenance struck him, "would you be so obliging as to tell me the way to the village of Arnouville?"

Fleur-de-Marie's eyes sunk before the bold and admiring look of the young man, as she replied:

"On leaving the sunken road, sir, you must take the first turning to the right, and that path will lead you to an avenue of cherry-trees, which is the straight road to Arnouville."

"A thousand thanks, my pretty la.s.s! You tell me better than an old woman, whom I found a few yards further on stretched under a tree, for I could only get groans and moans out of her."

"My poor grandmother!" said Tortillard, in a whining tone.

"One word more," said M. de Saint-Remy, addressing La Goualeuse. "Can you tell me if I shall easily find M. Dubreuil's farm at Arnouville?"

Goualeuse could not prevent a shudder at these words, which recalled to her the painful scene of the morning. She replied:

"The farm-buildings border the avenue which you must enter to reach Arnouville, sir."

"Once more, many thanks, my pretty dear," said M. de Saint-Remy; and he galloped off with his groom.

The handsome features of the viscount were in full animation whilst he was talking to Fleur-de-Marie, but when he was again alone they became darkened and contracted by painful uneasiness. Fleur-de-Marie, remembering the unknown person for whom they were so hastily preparing a pavilion at the farm of Arnouville by Madame de Lucenay's orders, felt convinced it was for this young and good-looking cavalier.

The sound of the horses' feet as they galloped on was heard for some time on the hard and frozen ground, and by degrees grew fainter, then were no longer heard, and all was once more hushed in silence.

Tortillard breathed again. Desirous of encouraging and warning his accomplices, one of whom, the Schoolmaster, was concealed from the hors.e.m.e.n, Bras Rouge's son called out:

"Granny! granny! here I am! with the good lady who is coming to help you!"

"Quick, quick, my boy! The gentleman on horseback has made us lose some time," said the Goualeuse, walking at a quicker pace, that she might reach the turning into the hollow way.

She had scarcely entered it when the Chouette, who was hidden there, exclaimed:

"Now then, _fourline_!"

Then springing upon the Goualeuse, the one-eyed hag seized her by the neck with one hand, whilst with the other she pressed her mouth; and Tortillard, throwing himself at the young girl's feet, clung round her legs, that she might not be able to stir.

This took place so rapidly that the Chouette had no time to examine the Goualeuse's features; but during the few instants it required for the Schoolmaster to quit the hole in which he was ensconced, to grope his way along with his cloak, the beldame recognised her old victim.

"La Pegriotte!" she exclaimed, in great surprise. Then adding with savage delight, "What, is it you? Ah, the baker (the devil) sends you!

It is your fate, then, to fall into my clutches! I have my vitriol in the _fiacre_ now, and your white skin shall have a touch, miss; for it makes me sick to see your fine lady countenance. Come, my man, mind she don't bite; and hold her tight whilst we bundle her up."

The Schoolmaster seized the Goualeuse in his two powerful hands, and before she could utter a cry the Chouette threw the cloak over her head, and wrapped her up in it, tightly and securely. In a moment, Fleur-de-Marie, tied and enveloped, was without any power to move or call for a.s.sistance.

"Now take up your parcel, _fourline_," said the Chouette. "He, he, he!

This is not such a load as the 'black peter' of the woman who was drowned in the Ca.n.a.l of St. Martin---is it, my man?" And as the brigand shuddered at these words, which reminded him of his fearful vision, the one-eyed hag resumed, "Well, well, what ails you, _fourline_? Why, you seem frozen! Ever since the morning your teeth chatter as if you had the ague; and you look in the air as if you were looking for something there!"

"Vile impostor! He is looking to see the flies," said Tortillard.

"Come, quick! Haste forward, my man! Up with Pegriotte! That's it!" said the Chouette, as she saw the ruffian lift Fleur-de-Marie in his arms as he would carry a sleeping infant. "Quick to the coach! quick,--quick!"

"But who will lead me?" inquired the Schoolmaster, in a hoa.r.s.e voice, and securing his light and flexible burden in his herculean arms.

"Old wise head!--he thinks of every thing!" said the Chouette.

Then, lifting aside her shawl, she unfastened a red pocket-handkerchief which covered her skinny neck, and, twisting it into its length, said to the Schoolmaster:

"Open your ivories, and take the end of this 'wipe' between them. Hold tight! Tortillard will take the other end in his hand, and you have nothing to do but to follow him. The good blind man requires a good dog!

Here, brat!"

The cripple cut a caper, and made a sort of low and odd barking. Then, taking the other end of the handkerchief in his hand, he led the Schoolmaster in this way, whilst the Chouette hastened forward to apprise Barbillon. We have not attempted to paint Fleur-de-Marie's terror when she found herself in the power of the Chouette and the Schoolmaster. She felt all her strength leave her, and could not offer the slightest resistance.

Some minutes afterwards the Goualeuse was lifted into the _fiacre_ which Barbillon drove, and although it was night they closed the window-blinds carefully; and the three accomplices went, with their almost expiring victim, towards the plain of St. Denis, where Thomas Seyton awaited them.

CHAPTER XI.

CLeMENCE D'HARVILLE.

The reader will kindly excuse our having left one of our heroines in a most critical situation, the _denouement_ of which we shall state hereafter.

It will be remembered that Rodolph had preserved Madame d'Harville from an imminent danger, occasioned by the jealousy of Sarah, who had acquainted M. d'Harville with the a.s.signation Clemence had so imprudently granted to M. Charles Robert. Deeply affected with the scene he had witnessed, the prince returned directly home after quitting the Rue du Temple, putting off till the next day the visit he purposed paying to Mlle. Rigolette and the distressed family of the unfortunate artisan, of whom we have spoken, believing them out of the reach of present want, thanks to the money he had given Madame d'Harville to convey to them, in order that her pretended charitable visit to the house might a.s.sume a more convincing appearance in the eyes of her husband.

Unfortunately, Rodolph was ignorant of Tortillard's having possessed himself of the purse, although the reader has already been told how the artful young thief contrived to effect the barefaced cheat.

About four o'clock the prince received the following letter, which was brought by an old woman, who went away the instant she had delivered it without awaiting any answer.

"MY LORD:

"I owe you more than life; and I would fain express my heartfelt grat.i.tude for the invaluable service you have rendered me to-day.

To-morrow shame would, perhaps, close my lips. If your royal highness will honour me with a call this evening, you will finish the day as you began it--by a generous action.

"D'ORBIGNY D'HARVILLE.

"P.S. Do not, my lord, take the trouble to write an answer. I shall be at home all the evening."

However rejoiced Rodolph felt at having been the happy instrument of good to Madame d'Harville, he yet could not help regretting the sort of a forced intimacy which this circ.u.mstance all at once established between himself and the marquise. Deeply struck with the graceful vivacity and extreme beauty of Clemence, yet wholly incapable of infringing upon the friends.h.i.+p which existed between himself and the marquis, Rodolph, directly he became aware of the pa.s.sion which was springing up in his heart for the wife of his friend, almost denied himself (after having previously devoted a whole month to the most a.s.siduous attentions) the pleasure of beholding her. And now, too, he recollected with much emotion the conversation he had overheard at the emba.s.sy between Tom and Sarah, when the latter, by way of accounting for her hatred and jealousy, had affirmed, and not without truth, that Madame d'Harville still felt, even unknown to herself, a serious affection for Rodolph.

Sarah was too acute, too penetrating, too well versed in the knowledge of the human heart, not to be well aware that Clemence, believing herself scorned by a man who had made so deep an impression on her heart, and yielding, from the effects of her irritated feelings, to the importunities of a perfidious friend, might be induced to interest herself in the imaginary woes of M. Charles Robert, without, consequently, forgetting Rodolph. Other women, faithful to the memory of a man they had once distinguished, would have remained indifferent to the melancholy looks of the commandant. Clemence d'Harville was therefore doubly blamable, although she had only yielded to the seduction of unhappiness, and, fortunately for her, had been preserved alike by a keen sense of duty and the remembrance of the prince (which still lurked in her heart, and kept faithful watch over it) from the commission of an irreparable fault.

A thousand contradictory emotions disturbed the mind of Rodolph, as he thought of his interview with Madame d'Harville. Firmly resolved to resist the predilection which attracted him to her society, sometimes he congratulated himself on being able to cast off his love for her by the recollection of her having entangled herself with such a being as Charles Robert; and the next instant he bitterly deplored seeing the flattering veil with which he had invested his idol fall to the ground.

Clemence d'Harville, on her part, awaited the approaching interview with much anxiety; but the two prevailing sentiments which pervaded her breast were painful confusion, when she remembered the interference of Rodolph, and a fixed aversion when she thought of M. Charles Robert, and many reasons were concerned in this feeling of dislike almost approaching hatred itself. A woman will risk her honour or her life for a man, but she will never pardon him for having placed her in a mortifying or a ridiculous situation.

Madame d'Harville felt her cheeks flush, and her pulse beat rapidly as she indignantly recalled the insulting looks and impertinent remarks of Madame Pipelet. Nor was this all. After receiving from Rodolph an intimation of the danger she was incurring, Clemence had proceeded rapidly towards the fifth floor, as directed, but the position of the staircase was such that, as she hurried on, she perceived M. Charles Robert in his dazzling _robe de chambre_, at the very instant when, recognising the light step of the woman he expected, he, with a self-satisfied, confident, and triumphant look, set the door of his apartment half open. The air of insolent familiarity, expressed by the _negligee_ toilet he had a.s.sumed, quickly enabled the marquise to perceive how entirely she had been mistaken in his character. Led away by the kindness and goodness of her heart, and the generosity of her disposition, to take a step which might for ever destroy her reputation, she had accorded this meeting, not from love, but solely from commiseration, in order to console him for the ridiculous part the bad taste of the Duke de Lucenay had made him play before her at the emba.s.sy. Words can ill describe the disgust and vexation with which Madame d'Harville beheld the slipshod _deshabille_ of the commandant, implying as it did his opinion how completely her ill-judged condescension had broken down the barriers of etiquette, and led him to consider no further respect towards her necessary.

The timepiece in the small salon which Madame d'Harville ordinarily occupied struck nine o'clock. Dressmakers and tavern-keepers have so much abused the style of Louis XV. and the Renaissance, that the marquise, a woman of infinite taste, had excluded from her apartments this description of ornament, now become so vulgarised, and confined it to that part of the hotel devoted to the reception of visitors and grand entertainments. Nothing could be more elegant or more _distingue_ than the fitting-up of the salon in which the marquise awaited Rodolph. The colour of the walls as well as the curtains (which, without either valances or draperies, were of Indian texture) was bright straw colour, on which were embroidered, in a darker shade, in unwrought silk, arabesques of the most beautiful designs and whimsical devices. Double curtains of point d'Alencon entirely concealed the windows. The rosewood doors were set off with gold mouldings, most beautifully carved, surrounding in each panel an oval medallion of Sevres china, nearly a foot in diameter, representing a numberless variety of birds and flowers of surpa.s.sing brilliancy and beauty. The frames of the looking-gla.s.ses and the cornices of the curtains were also of rosewood, ornamented with similar raised work of silver gilt. The white marble mantelpiece, with its supporting caryatides of antique beauty and exquisite grace, was from the chisel of the proud and imperious Marochetti, that great artist having consented to sculpture this delicious _chef-d'oeuvre_ in imitation of Benvenuto Cellini, who disdained not to model ewers and armour. Two candelabras, and two candlesticks of vermeil, forming groups of small figures beautifully executed, stood on either side of the timepiece, which was formed of a square block of lapis lazuli raised on a pedestal of Oriental jasper, and surmounted with a large and magnificently enamelled golden cup, richly studded with rubies and pearls, once the property of the Florentine Republic. Several excellent pictures of the Venetian school, of middle size, completed this a.s.semblage of elegance and refined taste.

Thanks to a most charming invention but recently introduced, this splendid yet simple apartment was lighted only by the soft rays of a lamp, the unground surface of whose crystal globe was half hid among a ma.s.s of real flowers, contained in an immensely large and deep blue and gold j.a.pan cup, suspended from the ceiling like a l.u.s.tre by three chains of vermeil, around which were entwined the green stalks of several climbing plants; while some of the flexible branches, thickly laden with flowers, overhanging the edge of the cup and hanging gracefully down, formed a waving fringe of fresh verdure, beautifully contrasting with the blue and gold enamel of the purple porcelain.