Chapter I: The Arrest (2)

"But their name?"

"I do not know: the lady sold me the things in the presence of the porter; I had not the necessity to ask her name, as what she sold belonged to herself."

"But their new abode?"

"That, also, I do not know."

"Perhaps they can inform me at their old lodging?"

"No, sir; for when I returned to fetch away the things, the porter said, speaking of the mother and daughter; 'They are very quiet people, but very unhappy; some misfortunes have happened to them. They always appeared calm; but I am sure they were in a state of despair.' 'And where are they going to lodge at this late hour?' I asked him. 'In truth, I know nothing,' answered he; 'it is, however, quite certain they will not return here.'"

The hopes that Rudolph had entertained for a moment vanished. How could he discover these two unhappy females, having only as a clew the name of the young girl, Claire, and the fragment of a letter, of which we have spoken, at the bottom of which were the words: "_Write to Madame de Lucenay, for M. de Saint-Remy_."

The only chance, and that was a very faint one, of tracing these unfortunates, rested in Madame de Lucenay, who, fortunately, was on intimate terms with Lady d'Harville.

"Here, madame, pay yourself," said Rudolph to the shopkeeper, giving her a note for five hundred francs.

"I will give you the difference, sir."

"Where can I engage a cart to carry the things?"

"If it be not very far, a large truck will be sufficient; Father Jerome has one, quite close by; I always employ him. What is your address?"

"No. 17, Rue du Temple."

"Rue du Temple, No. 17. Yes, yes, I know the house."

"You have been there?"

"Many times. First, I bought some clothes of a pawnbroker who lived there. It is true, she did not carry on a large business, but that was no affair of mine: she sold, I bought, and we were quits. Another time, not six months ago, I went again for the furniture of a young man who lived on the fourth story, and who was going to remove."

"M. Francois Germain, perhaps," said Rudolph.

"The same. Do you know him?"

"Very well. Unhappily, he has not left in the Rue du Temple his present address, and I do not know where to find him."

"If that be all, I can remove the difficulty."

"You know where he lives?"

"Not exactly; but I know where you will be sure to meet with him."

"Where is that?"--

"At a notary's, where he is employed."

"At a notary's?"

"Yes; who lives in the Rue du Sentier."

"M. Jacques Ferrand!" exclaimed Rudolph.

"The same; a worthy man; he has a crucifix and a bit of the true cross in his office, which reminds one of a sacristy."

"But how do you know that M. Germain is with the notary?"

"Why, in this way. The young man came to me, and proposed that I should buy all his furniture; although not in my way of business, I agreed, and afterward retailed them here; for, as it suited the young man, I did not like to refuse. Well, then, I bought him clean out, and gave him a good price; he was, doubtless, satisfied with me, for at the end of a fortnight he came to buy a bedstead and bedding. He brought with him a truck and a porter; they packed up all; but just as he was about to pay he found he had forgotten his purse. He appeared such an honest young man, that I said to him: 'Take the things with you, all the same; I will call for the money.''Very well,' he said; 'but I am seldom at home; call, therefore, tomorrow, in the Rue du Sentier, at M. Jacques Ferrand's the notary, where I am employed, and I will then pay you.' I went the next day, and he paid me. Only, what I thought so odd, was, his selling me all his goods, and buying others in a fortnight after."

Rudolph thought he could account for the cause of this singularity. Germain, wishing that the wretches who pursued him should lose all traces, of him, had sold his goods, thinking that if he removed them it might give a clew to his new abode, and had preferred, to avoid this evil, purchasing others, and taking them himself to his lodgings. Rudolph started with joy when he thought of the happiness for Mrs. George, who was at last about to see this son, so long and vainly sought.

Miss Dimpleton now returned with joyful eyes and smiling lips.

"Well, did I not tell you?" she exclaimed. "I was not wrong: we have spent, in all, six hundred and forty francs, and the Morels will be housed like princes. See! the shopkeepers are coming: are they not loaded? Nothing is wanted for the use of the family--even to a gridiron, two beautiful saucepans newly tinned, and a coffee-pot. I said to myself, since everything is to be had, it shall be so; and, besides all that, I have spent three hours. But make haste and pay, neighbor, and let us go. It is almost noon, and my needle must go at a pretty rate to overtake this morning!"

Rudolph paid, and left the Temple with Miss Dimpleton. As the grisette and her companion entered the passage of the house, they were almost thrown down by Mrs. Pipelet, who was running out, troubled, frightened, aghast.

"Gracious heaven!" said Miss Dimpleton, "what is the matter with you, Mrs. Pipelet? Where are you running to in that manner?"

"Is that you, Miss Dimpleton?" exclaimed Anastasia.

"Providence has sent you. Help me! save the life of Alfred!"

"What do you say?"

"That poor old darling has fainted! Have pity upon us! run and fetch two sous worth of absinthe--very strong; that is the remedy when he is indisposed in the pylorus. Be kind; do not refuse me, and I can return to Alfred. I am quite confused!"

Miss Dimpleton left Rudolph's arm, and ran off to the dram-shop.

"But what has happened, Mrs. Pipelet?" asked Rudolph, following the portress, who returned to the lodge.

"How should I know, my worthy sir? I left home to go to the mayor's, the church, and the cook-shop, to prevent Alfred from tiring himself. I returned; what did I see? the dear old man with his legs and arms all in the air! Look, M. Rudolph!" said Anastasia, opening the door of the room, "is not that a sight to break one's heart?"

Lamentable spectacle! With his enormous hat still on his head, even further on than usual, for the questionable _castor,_ pushed down, no doubt, by violence, if we may judge by a transverse gap, covered Pipelet's eyes, who was on his back on the floor, at the foot of his bed.

The fainting was over, and Alfred was beginning to make some slight movements with his hands, as though he wished to repulse some one or some thing; and then he tried to remove his troublesome visor.

"He kicks! that is a good sign; he recovers!" cried the portress--and stooping down, she bawled in his ears: "What is the matter with my Alfred? It is his 'Stasie who is here. How are you now? They are coming to bring you some absinthe; that will put you to rights." Then, assuming a caressing tone of voice, she added: "Have they abused you, killed you, my dear old darling--eh?"

Alfred sighed deeply, and with a groan uttered a fatal word: "_Cabrion!_" His trembling hands seemed as though desirous of repulsing a frightful vision.

"Cabrion! that devil of a painter again!" exclaimed Mrs. Pipelet. "Alfred all night dreamed so much about him, that he kicked me dreadfully. That monster is his nightmare! Not only has he poisoned his days, but his nights also; he persecutes him even in his sleep-- yes, sir, as though Alfred was a malefactor, and this Cabrion, whom may the devil confound! is his remorseless enemy."

Rudolph smiled, as he foresaw some new trick on the part of Miss Dimpleton's former neighbor.

"Alfred, answer me; do not remain dumb--you alarm me," said Mrs. Pipelet; "let us get you up. Why will you think on that beggarly fellow? You know that, when you think of him, it has the same effect on you as when you eat cabbage--it fills up your gizzard, and stifles you!"

"Cabrion!" repeated Pipelet, lifting with difficulty his hat from his eyes, which he rolled about with a frightened air.

Miss Dimpleton entered, carrying a small bottle of absinthe.

"Thank you, mademoiselle; you are very kind," said the old woman. Then she added: "Here, darling, pop it down; it will bring you to yourself."

And Anastasia, presenting the vial quickly to Pipelet's lips, insisted on his swallowing the contents. Alfred in vain struggled courageously: his wife, profiting by the weakness of her victim, held his head with a firm grasp in one hand, and with the other introduced the neck of the vial between his teeth, and forced him to drink the absinthe; after which she cried triumphantly: "Well done! you are again on your pins, my cherished one!"

Alfred, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, opened his eyes, stood up, and asked in a trembling voice: "Have you seen him?"

"Who?"

"Is he gone?"

"Alfred, whom do you mean?"

"Cabrion!"

"Has he dared--" cried the portress.

Pipelet, as dumb as the statue of the Commander in _Don Giovanni,_ bowed his head twice in the affirmative.

"M. Cabrion, has he been here?" asked Miss Dimpleton, restraining with difficulty an inclination to laugh.

"That monster! has he been let loose upon Alfred?" cried Mrs. Pipelet. "Oh, if I had been here with my broom, he should have eaten it up, to the very handle! But speak, Alfred; relate to us this horrible affair."

Pipelet made a sign with his hand that he was about to speak, and they listened to the man of the immense hat in religious silence. Pie expressed himself in these terms, with a voice deeply agitated: "My wife had just left me to complete the orders given by you, sir (bowing to Rudolph), to call at the mayor's and the cook-shop."

"The dear old man had the nightmare all night, and I wished him to rest," said Anastasia.

"This nightmare was sent me as a warning from above," said the porter, solemnly. "I had dreamed of Cabrion--I was to suffer by Cabrion. Here was I sitting quietly before the table, thinking of an alteration that I wished to make in this boot confided to me, when I heard a noise, a rustling at the window of my lodge--was it a presentiment--a warning from above? My heart beat; I raised my head, and through the window I saw--saw--"

"Cabrion!" cried Anastasia, clasping her hands.

"Cabrion!" replied Pipelet, in a hollow tone. "His hideous face was there, close to the window, looking at me with his cat's eyes--what do I say? tiger's eyes! just as in my dream. I tried to speak, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth: I would have risen--I was glued to my seat; the boot fell from my hands, and, as in every critical and important event of my life, I remained completely motionless. Then the key turned in the lock; the door opened, and Cabrion entered!"

"He entered? what effrontery!" said Mrs. Pipelet, as much astonished as her husband at such audacity.

"Cabrion advanced slowly, his looks fixed on me, as a serpent glares on the bird, like a phantom--on, on, chilling, lowering!"

"I'm goose-flesh all over!" groaned Anastasia.

"He came quite close to me; I could no longer endure his revolting aspect; it was too much, I could hold out no longer. I shut my eyes, and I then felt that he dared to put his hands on my hat, took it slowly off my head, and left it naked! I was seized with giddiness--my breathing was suspended--a ringing came in my ears--I was more than ever glued to my seat--I shut my eyes more firmly. Then Cabrion stooped, took my bald head between his hands, cold as death, and upon my forehead, bathed in sweat, imprinted a lascivious kiss!"

Anastasia lifted her arms toward heaven.

"My most inveterate enemy kissed my forehead! A monstrosity so unparalleled overcame and paralyzed me. Cabrion profited by my stupor to replace my hat on my head: then, with a blow on the crown, bonneted me as you saw. The last outrage quite overpowered me--the measure was full; everything about me turned round, and I fainted at the moment when I saw him, from under the rim of my hat, leave the room as quietly and slowly as he had entered."

Then, as though this recital had exhausted his strength, Pipelet fell back on his chair, raising his hands to heaven in the attitude of mute imprecation. Miss Dimpleton left the room suddenly; her desire to laugh almost stifled her, and she could no longer restrain herself. Rudolph himself had with difficulty preserved his gravity.

Suddenly a confused murmur, such as announces the assembling of a multitude, was heard in the street; a tumult arose at the end of the passage, and then musket-butts sounded on the door-step.

"Good heaven, M. Rudolph!" cried Miss Dimpleton, running back, pale and trembling; "here are a commissary of police and the guard!"

"Divine justice watches over me!" said Pipelet, in a burst of religious gratitude; "they come to arrest Cabrion! Unhappily, it is too late!"

A commissary of police, known by a scarf worn under his black coat, entered the lodge. His countenance was grave, dignified, and severe.

"M. le Commissaire, you are too late; the malefactor has fled!" said Pipelet, sadly; "but I can give you his description. Villainous smile, impudent manners--"

"Of whom do you speak?" asked the officer.

"Of Cabrion, M. le Commissaire, and if you make all haste, there may be yet time to get hold of him," answered Pipelet.

"I do not know who this Cabrion is," said the officer, impatiently. "Does Jerome Morel, working lapidary, live in this house?"

"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Pipelet, standing at the salute.

"Conduct me to his apartment."'

"Morel, the lapidary!" resumed the portress, quite surprised; "he is as gentle as a lamb, and incapable of--"

"Does Jerome Morel live here or not?"

"He does live here, sir, with his family, in the attic."

"Show me, then, to this garret."

Then, addressing a man who accompanied him, the magistrate said: "Let the two municipal guards wait below, and not leave the alley. Send Justin for a coach." The man left to execute these orders.

"Now," said the magistrate, addressing Pipelet, "conduct me to Morel."

"If it be all the same to you, sir, I will go instead of Alfred, who is indisposed from the persecution of Cabrion; who, just as cabbage does, troubles his gizzard."

"You, or your husband, it matters little which--go on." Preceded by Mrs. Pipelet, he began to ascend the stairs; but he soon stopped, perceiving that he was followed by Rudolph and Miss Dimpleton.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded he.

"They are the two fourth-floors," said Mrs. Pipelet.

"Pardon me, sir, I did not know that you belonged to the house," said he, to Rudolph; who, auguring well from the politeness of the magistrate, said, "You will find a family in great distress, sir. I do not know what new misfortune menaces the unhappy artisan, but he has been cruelly tried last night; one of his children, worn out by illness, is dead beneath his eyes--dead from cold and misery."

"Is it possible?"

"It is the truth," said Mrs. Pipelet. "If it had not been for the gentleman who now speaks to you, and who is a king of lodgers, for he has saved, by his goodness, poor Morel from prison, the whole family of the lapidary must have died from hunger."

The commissary looked at Rudolph with as much interest as surprise.

"Nothing is more simple, sir," said the latter. "A person who is very charitable, knowing that Morel, to whose worth I pledge my honor, was in a position as deplorable as it was unmerited, instructed me to pay a bill of exchange, for which the bailiffs were about to drag to prison this poor man, the sole support of a large family."

Struck in his turn by the noble appearance of Rudolph, and the dignity of his manner, the magistrate replied, "I do not doubt the probity of Morel; I only regret being compelled to fulfill a painful duty before you, sir, who have shown so lively an interest in this family."

"What can you mean, sir?"

"After the services you have rendered the Morels, and from your language, I know that you are a worthy man. Having, besides, no reason to conceal the object of the mandate I am about to execute, I will acknowledge that I am about to arrest Louise Morel, the lapidary's daughter."

The rouleau of gold that she had offered to the bailiffs came to the mind of Rudolph.

"Of what is she accused?"

"She is accused of infanticide."

"She, she! Oh, her poor father!"

"From what you have told me, sir, I conceive that, under the circumstances in which the artisan is placed, this new blow will be terrible for him. Unfortunately I must obey my orders."

"But it is only a simple accusation!" cried Rudolph. "The proofs are wanting, without doubt?"

"I cannot explain myself further on this subject. The authorities have been informed of this crime, or rather, the presumption, by the declarations of a man in every way respectable--the master of Louise Morel."

"Jacques Ferrand, the notary," said Rudolph indignantly.

"Yes, sir. But why this vivacity?"

"M. Jacques Ferrand, the notary, is a scoundrel, sir!"

"I see with pain that you do not know of whom you speak. M. Jacques Ferrand is the most honorable man in the world; of most exemplary piety, and known probity."

"I repeat to you, sir, that the notary is a scoundrel. He wished to imprison Morel, because his daughter repulsed his infamous propositions. If Louise is only accused on the testimony of such a man--acknowledge, sir, that it merits but little belief."

"It does not belong to me, sir, and it does not become me, to discuss the value of the testimony of M. Ferrand," said the officer coldly. "Justice has taken cognizance of the affair; the tribunals will decide. As to me, I have orders to arrest Louise Morel, and I shall do it."

"You are right, sir. I regret that a movement of indignation, perhaps legitimate, has made me forget that this is neither the time nor place for such a discussion. One word alone: the body of the child he has lost is in the garret. I have offered my room to this family, to spare them the sad sight of the corpse; hence it is, probably, in my chamber you will find the artisan and his daughter. I conjure you, sir, in the name of humanity, do not arrest Louise suddenly in the midst of these misfortunes. Morel has gone through so many shocks this night, that his reason will give way: his wife is also dangerously sick--such a blow will kill her. If you will permit me, I'll ask you a favor. This is what I propose. The young girl who follows us with the door-keeper occupies a room adjoining mine; I do not doubt but that she will place it at your disposal. You can at first send for Louise; then, if it must be, for Morel, that his daughter may bid him farewell. You will at least spare a poor, sick, and infirm mother a heart-rending scene.

"If this can be arranged so, sir, willingly."

The conversation had taken place in an undertone, while Rigolette and Mrs. Pipelet held themselves discreetly at some distance off.

Rudolph descended, and said to the former: "My poor neighbor, I must ask another favor; you must let me have your room at my disposal for an hour."

"As long as you please, M. Rudolph. You have my key. But, what is the matter?"

"I will tell you directly. This is not all: you must be kind enough to return to the Temple to tell them to delay sending home our purchases for an hour." "Willingly, M. Rudolph; but is there a new misfortune happened to the Morels?"

"Alas! yes; you will know it only too soon."

"Come, neighbor, I fly to the Temple. I, thanks to you, thought them out of trouble," said the grisette, descending rapidly the stairs.

Rudolph wished to spare Rigolette the sad spectacle of the arrest of Louise. "Officer," said Mrs. Pipelet, "since my prince of lodgers accompanies you, I can go and find Alfred. He alarms me: he has hardly recovered from his attack of--Cabrion."

"Go--go!" said the magistrate; who remained alone with Rudolph. Both arrived on the landing place of the fourth, opposite the door of the room where the artisan and his family were temporarily placed.

Suddenly this door was opened. Louise, pale and weeping, came out quickly. "Adieu, adieu! father," cried she; "I will return--I must go now."

"Louise, my child, listen to me, then," answered Morel, following his daughter, and trying to detain her.

At the sight of Rudolph and the magistrate they remained immovable.

"Ah, sir! you, our savior," said the artisan, recognizing Rudolph; "aid me to prevent Louise from going. I do not know what is the matter with her, she makes me afraid; she wishes to go away. Is it not so, sir, that she must not return any more to her master? Did you not say, 'Louise shall quit you no more--this shall be your recompense'? Oh! at this delightful promise, I avow it, for a moment I have forgotten the death of my poor little Adele; but to be separated from you, Louise, never, never!"

Rudolph felt himself overcome; be had not strength to utter a word.

The officer said severely to Louise, "Are you Louise Morel?"

"Yes, sir!" answered the young girl, amazed. Rudolph had opened the chamber of Rigolette.

"You are Jerome Morel, her father?" added the magistrate addressing the artisan.

"Yes, sir! but--"

"Enter there with your daughter." And the magistrate pointed to the chamber of Rigolette, where Rudolph already was. Reassured by his presence, the artisan and Louise, astonished and troubled, obeyed; the officer shut the door, and said to Morel, with emotion, "I know your honesty and misfortunes; it is, then, with regret I inform you that, in the name of the law, I come to arrest your daughter."

"All is discovered--I am lost!" cried Louise, throwing herself in the arms of her father.

"What do you say? what do you say?" said Morel, stupefied. "Are you mad? why lost? arrest you! why arrest you? who will arrest you?"

"I--in the name of the law!" and the officer showed his scarf.

"Oh, unfortunate! unfortunate that I am!" cried Louise, falling on her knees.

"How, in the name of the law?" said the artisan, whose mind began to wander; "why arrest my daughter in the name of the law? I answer for Louise, I--she is my daughter, my worthy daughter--is it not true, Louise? How arrest you, when our guardian angel restores you to us, to console us for the death of my little Adele? Come now! it cannot be! And besides, sir, speaking with respect, only criminals are arrested, do you understand--and Louise, my daughter, is not a criminal. Very sure, do you see, my child, this gentleman is mistaken. My name is Morel; there are more Morels than me. You are Louise--but there are more of the same name. That's it, you see, sir; there is a mistake!"

"Unfortunately, there is no mistake! Louise Morel, say farewell to your father."

"You carry away my daughter, will you?" cried the workman, furious from grief, and advancing toward the magistrate with a threatening air.

Rudolph seized him by the arm, and said, "Calm yourself, and hope; your daughter shall be returned to you--her innocence shall be proved; she is doubtless not culpable."

"Of what? she can be culpable of nothing. I would place my hand in the fire that"--then recollecting the gold that Louise had brought to pay the note, Morel cried, "But that money, that money, Louise?" and he cast on his daughter a terrible look.

Louise understood it. "I steal!" cried she, and the cheeks colored with generous indignation. Her tone of voice, her gesture, satisfied her father.

"I knew it!" he cried. "Do you see, sir--she denies it--and never in her life has she lied, I swear to you. Ask every one who knows her, and they will say the same. She lie? she is too proud for that. Besides, the bill was paid by our benefactor. She don't want gold; she was going to return it to the person who lent it, wasn't you, Louise?"

"Your daughter is not accused of theft," said the magistrate.

"But of what is she accused, then? I, her father, swear that, whatever she is accused of, she is innocent; and all my life I have never lied."

"What good will it do to know what she is accused of?" said Rudolph to him; "her innocence shall be proven--the person who interests herself so much in you will protect your daughter. Come, come. This time, again, Providence will not fail you. Embrace your daughter--you will soon see her again."

"M. le Commissaire," cried Morel, without listening to Rudolph, "a daughter is not taken away from a father without at least telling him of what she is accused! I wish to know all! Louise, will you speak?"

"Your daughter is accused--of infanticide," said the magistrate.

"I--I--do not comprehend--I--you--"

"Your daughter is accused of having killed her child," said the officer, much overcome at this scene.

"But it is not yet proved that she has committed this crime."

"Oh, no, it is not so, sir, it is not so," cried Louise, with force, and raising herself up: "I swear to you it was dead. It breathed no more; it was frozen; I lost all consciousness; that is my crime. But kill my child, oh, never!"

"Your child, wretch!" cried Morel, raising his hands to Louise, as if he wished to annihilate her with this gesture and terrible imprecation.

"Pardon, father, pardon!" cried she.

After a moment of frightful silence, Morel went on with a calmness still more frightful.

"Sir, take away this creature; she is not my child."

He wished to go out; Louise threw herself at his knees, which she embraced with both arms, and, with face upward, frantic and supplicating, she cried, "Father, listen to me, only listen to me."

"Officer, take her away, I abandon her to you," said the artisan, making every effort to disengage himself from the embraces of Louise.

"Listen to her," said Rudolph, stopping him; "do not be now without pity."

"She, she!" repeated Morel, burying his face in his hands, "she dishonored! oh! infamous, infamous!"

"Is she dishonored to save you?" whispered Rudolph.

These words made a startling impression on Morel; he looked at his weeping child, still kneeling at his feet, then, interrogating her with a look impossible to describe, he cried in a hollow voice, his teeth grinding with rage, "The notary!"

An answer came to the lips of Louise. She was about to speak, but, on reflection, she stopped, bent her head, and remained silent.

"But no--he wished to imprison me this morning," continued Morel; "it is not he? oh, so much the better! so much the better. She has no excuse for her fault; I can curse her without remorse."

"No, no! do not curse me, my father; to you I will tell all; to you alone; and you will see--you will see if I do not deserve your pardon."

"Listen to her for the sake of pity," said Rudolph.

"What can she tell me? her infamy? it will soon be public; I will wait."

"Sir!" cried Louise to the magistrate, "in mercy let me say a few words to my father before leaving him, perhaps forever. And before you also, our savior, I will speak, but only before you and my father."

"I consent," said the magistrate.

"Will you, then, be insensible? will you refuse this last consolation to your child?" asked Rudolph. "If you think you owe me some return for the favors I have directed toward you, grant the prayer of your daughter."

After a moment of mournful silence, Morel answered, "Let us go."

"But where shall we go?" asked Rudolph; "your family is in the next room."

"Where shall we go?" cried the artisan, with bitter irony, "where shall we go? up there--up there, in the garret, alongside of the body of my child. The place is well chosen for this confession--is it not? Come--we will see if Louise will dare to lie in the sight of her sister. Come!" Morel went out precipitately, with a wild stare, without looking at Louise."

"Sir," whispered the officer to Rudolph, "do not prolong this interview. You said truly, his reason will not sustain it; just now his look was that of a madman."

"Alas! sir, I fear, like you, a terrible and new misfortune: I will shorten as much as possible the touching adieus." And Rudolph rejoined the artisan and his daughter.