Chapter XXVII: The Fossés Jaunes

Valentine de Mongarcin was reclining carelessly on a sofa in her music room. That was her usual place of refuge when she was not with her aunt; but for several days past the study of the zither and mandolin had been abandoned.

The noble heiress had learned from her maid that the little clerk's tales were founded on truth; Miretta had told her what she had learned from Giovanni. From that moment Valentine's lovely features had shown signs of gloomy preoccupation. If a smile sometimes played about her lips, it seemed inspired rather by the hope of vengeance than by one of those agreeable thoughts which usually cause young girls to smile.

Valentine rang a bell, and Miretta soon stood before her.

"Did you do my errand, Miretta? Did you go to the office of my aunt's solicitor?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; I went there this morning. I easily found Maître Bourdinard's office; it is on Rue du Bac. I crossed Pont-Rouge, which, they say, was built not long ago to take the place of the ferry [_bac_] that used to be established there, opposite that street, which took its name therefrom.--Oh! I am beginning to know Paris very well now!"

"Well, did you find that little clerk who came here the other day, and to whom I owe such--such valuable discoveries?"

"Monsieur Bahuchet? No, mademoiselle, he was not at the office; but there were several other clerks, who stared at me so insolently that I was very much embarrassed. When I asked for Monsieur Bahuchet, all the scribblers began to laugh; and they made some very coarse jests among themselves, which brought the blood to my cheeks.

"'Ah! you want to see Bahuchet, do you?' they said; 'ah! it is that villain, that seducer of a Bahuchet, whom you want to see?--On my word, he's a lucky rascal!--It seems that you don't go in for height, or for physique!--Who would believe that such a pygmy would be picked out by such a pretty girl?--I say, when you take his arm, you must tower above him! and if he doesn't walk fast enough to suit you, you can easily take him under your arm and carry him; he weighs only thirty-three pounds and a half.'

"To put an end to all this nonsense, I said loudly:

"'Messieurs, I wish to see Monsieur Bahuchet in behalf of Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin, who is my mistress, and who desires to speak with him.'

"Ah! mademoiselle, you should have seen what a change took place in the office when they heard your name! All the clerks assumed a most sedate air, and the jests instantly came to an end; they became very polite, and one of them, who, when he took off his cap to salute me, showed a head prematurely bald, said: 'Mademoiselle, Bahuchet is out, on business for the master, and he will not return for an hour at the earliest. But if mademoiselle your mistress wishes to speak with Bahuchet on business, one of us might take his place; myself, for example, Eudoxe Plumard; I am ready to go at once to the Hôtel de Mongarcin. Unless you prefer to speak to the solicitor himself; but he is not in, he has just mounted his mule to go to the Palais.'

"I answered that it was about a matter with which Monsieur Bahuchet was already familiar, and that, for that reason, you desired to speak with him personally. Thereupon they promised to send him to you as soon as he returned.

"'But,' added the clerk who called himself Plumard, 'don't expect him very early; for when Bahuchet goes out, it is always an eternity before he comes back.'

"And that, mademoiselle, is the result of my visit to the solicitor's office."

"Very well," said Valentine, apparently lost in thought. After a few moments, she added: "Is it a long while, Miretta, since you have been to see your acquaintance the bath keeper's daughter on Rue Saint-Jacques?"

"No, mademoiselle, not more than a week."

"Did you ask her about--about her friend, the other bath keeper's daughter?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; I asked her if she had seen her lately. She answered that, as Bathilde's mother had returned, she could see her only very rarely. And when I tried to question her further on the subject, she abruptly changed the conversation. Which led me to think that, if she is in her friend's confidence, she does not propose to betray her secret."

"A fine secret, on my word! which must be known ere this to the whole city, except perhaps those who are most deeply interested in it; but it is always so.--At what time were you on Rue du Bac, Miretta?"

"At half-past ten, mademoiselle."

"And it is now?"

"After twelve."

"Well, we must wait until it pleases Monsieur Bahuchet to return to his desk. Really, these solicitors are very patient with messieurs their clerks! Go, Miretta; and as soon as the fellow arrives at the house, bring him hither yourself--instantly! Above all things, do not let my aunt know anything of all this!"

"Never fear, mademoiselle; in fact, Madame de Ravenelle is at this moment shut up in her oratory, and she is paying little heed to what goes on in the house."

The clock on the Capucines Church, which could be heard at the Hôtel de Mongarcin, struck four. Valentine had been for a long time in a state of the most intense impatience; she could not stay in one place; she wandered hither and thither; took up a book and threw it down again in a moment; attempted to play on her zither, but let the instrument fall from her hands; and exclaimed continually:

"He will not come! Four o'clock, and he went out early this morning! And a solicitor keeps such clerks in his employ! Ah! how quickly I would dismiss such fellows if I were in his place!--Suppose I should intrust to Miretta the execution of my plan? But, no! no woman can perform such a commission; besides, she is in my service--she would be recognized, and I do not want to be compromised; I want to be revenged! but in such wise that no one will know from what quarter the vengeance comes."

Valentine had abandoned all hope of seeing the solicitor's clerk that day, when the door of the room in which she was sitting was suddenly thrown open, and Miretta announced:

"Monsieur Bahuchet."

At a sign from her mistress she admitted the little man, who confounded himself in reverences to Mademoiselle de Mongarcin.

"Here you are at last, monsieur! that is most fortunate!" cried Valentine; "it seems that it is very difficult to have speech with you.--Stay, Miretta, stay; I have no secrets from you, as you know.--When you go out for an hour, monsieur le clerc, does it mean that you will not return during the day?"

"A thousand pardons, mademoiselle!" replied Bahuchet, trying to assume a graceful attitude; "most certainly, if I had known, if I had been able to guess, that mademoiselle wished to speak with me, I would have returned to the office much sooner; and yet, mademoiselle, I am very excusable this time. I did not pass my time, as I often do, watching the open-air exhibitions of Turlupin and Gauthier-Garguille, or Brioché's Marionettes. No, indeed! The news was too interesting to-day; it had to do with so serious an event, accompanied by such mysterious circumstances, that--I give you my word, mademoiselle--the least inquisitive man could not have resisted the desire to see what I saw."

"Some new amourette, I suppose? some nocturnal rendezvous that you surprised?"

"No, mademoiselle; this is no question of amourettes, but of a murder committed last night. When I say _last night_, I am wrong; it was perhaps a fortnight ago, perhaps longer; but the victim was not discovered until last night."

"A murder! and you witnessed it?"

"No, thank God! When I say _thank God_, I do not mean that I am not very curious to know how it came about. But, no, although I am very brave, there are things that make one shudder simply to think of them!"

"Come, monsieur, pray explain to us what you have learned that is so shocking?"

"Mademoiselle, I had been as far as the corner of Rue Barbette on business for the office; I was about to return to Maître Bourdinard's, planning, I admit, to go by way of Pont-Neuf, for I know no more attractive, more diverting spot for the curious observer. It is the rendezvous of the whole city! Who does not cross Pont-Neuf? One sees there at the same moment, soldiers, bourgeois, priests, students, abbés, courtiers, pages, peasants, and women!"

"Do you propose to tell us the history of Pont-Neuf, Monsieur Bahuchet?"

"No, mademoiselle, no; excuse me. My story has to do with a much less cheerful bridge, the dismal Pont-aux-Choux!"

At the mention of the Pont-aux-Choux, Miretta involuntarily shuddered and listened more closely to what the little clerk said.

"Yes, mademoiselle; it was close by the Pont-aux-Choux that the horrible tragedy, which was discovered only this morning, took place.--I was saying--where was I?--Oh, yes! I was about to return to my solicitor's office, when, as I was taking a glass in a wine shop, I heard a peasant say to a good woman--I say a good woman, she may have been a bad one, but it's the custom, you know, to say _good woman_ when you are speaking of a woman advanced in years--he said: 'Yes, mother, there has been someone murdered on the road I take from Faubourg Saint-Antoine to the Market. And I tell you, it isn't very pleasant; I don't know yet whether I shall dare to go across Pont-aux-Choux after dark.'

"My curiosity being aroused at that, I accosted the peasant and asked him what he meant, and he answered:

"'About two hours ago, they found in the Fossés Jaunes----'"

"What are the Fossés Jaunes, Monsieur Bahuchet?" said Valentine; "I am very ignorant, am I not? but we are taught so few things!"

"The Fossés Jaunes, mademoiselle, were made in the time of King Charles V, and they surrounded the outer wall of Paris that was built long ago, in the time of Philippe-Auguste; they extend from the Bastille to Porte Saint-Honoré."

"Are they filled with water?"

"There used to be water in them, no doubt, mademoiselle, but for a long time they have contained nothing but muddy pools, in which very tall grass grows, and from which it isn't at all easy to get out if you happen to fall in. But as they are no longer of any use, I presume they will very soon be filled up.--I resume my narrative. The peasant said:

"'They found a dead man in the Fossés Jaunes, near Porte Saint-Antoine, on the other side of the Pont-aux-Choux. From the condition of his wounds, they know that he must have been killed quite a while ago; consequently, no one knows just when the crime was committed. And to think that I went by there at three o'clock in the morning, monsieur! Suppose the brigands had seen me! No doubt they would have murdered me too!'

"'But,' I said to the peasant, 'as you passed the place at three o'clock this morning, how do you know that they found a dead man there two hours ago? Have you been back there?'

"'No; but I just heard about it from a neighbor, a market gardener like myself, who just came from the faubourg. He saw the poor fellow they had taken out of the Fossés Jaunes; it seems he is a young man, and as handsome as a picture! He is still lying there at full length on the bank. Near the place where they found him, there are archers and soldiers keeping watch; and they have gone to tell the magistrates, who will make an investigation, of course, and search the neighborhood, and try to find something to put them on the track of the guilty ones.'

"I' faith, mademoiselle, I no sooner heard that than I felt a most intense longing to see the unfortunate man, who was found last night in the Fossés Jaunes. And I said to myself: 'If they need the magistrates, they may need a solicitor's clerk too; I must go and see the man, and then I can tell the whole story _de visu_!'

"So I took my legs around my neck--the phrase is still in use, although it lacks sense--and I can assure you that I ran without stopping, although I overturned two children, an ass, and a milkwoman on the way; but that is a detail.

"When I arrived at the Pont-aux-Choux, someone pointed out the spot where the poor young man still lay. I hurried to the place, and I was not the only one whom curiosity had drawn thither; there was a large crowd, and the soldiers had much ado to keep a space clear about the corpse. But as I am never at a loss for an expedient, I said to one of the guards that I was a clerk and employed in the magistracy, so he let me go near."

"So that you saw the man who was found dead?" said Miretta, in a voice trembling with emotion.

"Yes, my pretty lady's-maid, I saw it as plainly as I see you.--Ah! what a calamity! It was a young man--that is to say, a man of twenty-seven or twenty-eight at most, with a graceful figure, very well built, and a face--oh! a fascinating face! so refined and distinguished! He must have been a nobleman, or a gentleman of some ancient family."

"He was not disfigured, then, not wounded in the face?"

"Not a scratch! A surgeon who was there, with the lieutenant of police--for the lieutenant had come in person to examine the victim--the surgeon said, after looking at the wounds:

"'This young man was struck from behind, evidently when he was seated; he received a sword thrust in the back, which went completely through his body, and then another in the heart; but the latter when he had already fallen to the ground and lost consciousness. There cannot have been any struggle; death must have been instantaneous, and the unfortunate man had no time to defend himself.'"

"But did no one recognize the young man?" said Valentine; "his rank or his profession must have been indicated by his clothing. Did the lieutenant of police discover anything to put him on the track?"

"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, it was very difficult to guess. In the first place, the victim had been robbed of his cloak and hat and belt. The poor young man had nothing on him but his doublet and short-clothes, both of black cloth, and boots of a very common sort. But there was nothing in his pockets--neither money, nor papers, nor weapons; absolutely nothing! How is it possible, then, to guess who he is?--The lieutenant of police, after a careful examination of the body and the clothes, said:

"'Evidently this young gentleman had just arrived in Paris, for we do not remember having seen him before. He must have been attacked and robbed by Giovanni, who took his money, his papers, his weapons, and even a part of his clothes. Yes, such a crime can have been committed by none but that bold Italian, who then hurled the body of his victim into the moat, so that this latest crime might be less quickly discovered.'"

"Giovanni!" cried Miretta; "always Giovanni! As soon as a murder is committed, everyone agrees to charge it to his account! What is there to prove that it was he who killed this young man?"

"Hoity-toity! here is the little brunette defending the robber again!" exclaimed Bahuchet, with a laugh. "Really, my dear, I begin to think that you are one of his band!"

Miretta flushed crimson.

"I say that," she faltered, "because people tell so many lies, and invent so many stories that----"

"Mon Dieu! you do not need to justify yourself!" said Valentine, smiling at her.--"But is that all, Monsieur Bahuchet? Is your terrible story at an end?"

"Yes, mademoiselle, that is all. The lieutenant of police has had a search made in the neighborhood, hoping that something might be found belonging to the victim; but what is the use of searching now, when the crime was committed perhaps three weeks ago? If it had not been for a dog, nothing would have been discovered! But those excellent beasts are often much cleverer and more cunning than we are, and they have a most astonishing scent! This one stopped on the edge of the Fossés Jaunes, and his master called him in vain--he would not budge. As such persistence on the dog's part seemed very strange, his master went to him to find out what he was doing. By peering intently into the high grass in the moat, he finally discovered something that looked like a man's arm; he ran for a ladder, and they found the unfortunate victim. But that was all; for they have not succeeded in finding anything in the fields round about, or in the moat where the poor young man lay! Doubtless he was coming to Paris for enjoyment and diversion, and he met death before he had put his foot in the city.--But so it goes!"

"I am very, very sorry for the poor fellow who perished so miserably!" said Valentine; "but I did not know him; and as I can do nothing to avenge him, you will allow me, Monsieur Bahuchet, to turn my attention now to the subject that led me to ask you to call here."

"I am listening, mademoiselle; I am entirely at your service; I desired simply to prove to you that if I returned late to the office, I was not without some excuse. That idiot of a Plumard began at once to make remarks!"

"Enough, monsieur!--Listen: I expect a service from you. Are you disposed to oblige me, and, above all things, never to say a word which may lead anyone to suspect that you have acted by my orders?"

"Mademoiselle, I am entirely devoted to you; and as for my discretion---- Oh! there is no danger!"

"But you are very fond of talking, monsieur, and of telling everything you have learned!"

"Everything! That depends; I know many things now that nobody else knows--secrets; for instance, when Plumard----"

"Well! do you propose to betray them now, monsieur?"

"No, mademoiselle, no! I was about to say; even if Plumard should question me, he would learn nothing.--But what sort of service does mademoiselle require of me?"

"Something very simple and very easy," said Valentine, opening a small desk and taking from it the white plume that Bahuchet had sold her. "Look, Monsieur Bahuchet, do you recognize this plume?"

"Perfectly: it is the one I picked up on Rue Dauphine, under the balcony which Monsieur Léodgard de Marvejols had just scaled."

"That is right. Well, I wish you to go to Landry's bathing establishment, and ask to see the fascinating Bathilde's mother. I know that she has returned home. You will hand this white plume to that woman and say to her: 'Your daughter's lovers lose their plumes at night when they scale balconies to join her; here is one belonging to a noble lord, whose name Mademoiselle Bathilde will be able to give you.'--Then you will bow and take your leave; and that is all. As I do not wish to put you out for nothing, be kind enough to accept this purse as compensation for the trouble I cause you."

The little clerk observed at a glance the plumpness of the purse which Valentine offered him with the plume; but he hesitated about taking them.

"Well?" continued the nobly born maiden, testily; "are you not willing to do what I ask?"

"Pardon, pardon, mademoiselle; assuredly, I am too fortunate in the confidence which you manifest in me."

"Then take this plume and this purse!"

"But, you see, I am wondering in my own mind how Dame Ragonde will take it--that is young Bathilde's mother's name. I know the family. Dame Ragonde is a very bad one, they say; and when I tell her that her daughter receives lovers at night, that will not afford her great pleasure! What if she should fall on me with fists and claws?"

"What, Monsieur Bahuchet! You, who claim to be so brave, afraid of a woman's anger?"

"Because with a woman one must accept anything without retaliating; whereas, with a man--what a difference! If he ventures to lack respect, to strike us, why, we fall on him and pay him back twice or thrice what we have received."

"Very well, monsieur; instead of taking the plume to this Bathilde's mother, hand it to her father, Landry the bath keeper; then, if he resorts to violence, you can pay him back twice or thrice."

The little clerk scratched his ear and opened his nostrils wider than ever; he saw that the young lady had no faith in his courage; however, he made up his mind at last and took both plume and purse, saying:

"I will do as you first suggested, mademoiselle; I will hand this plume to Dame Ragonde; I think that that will be the better way; and as for her claws, I will brave them without a tremor."

"And if she should ask who sent you?"

"No one! I am acting on my own account. I picked up the plume, and I bring it back; and that will be no falsehood."

"Very good; discretion so far as I am concerned, monsieur, is what I especially enjoin upon you. You will carry this plume to the bath keeper's to-day?"

"It shall be handed to Dame Ragonde to-day."

"If my errand is left undone, I warn you that I shall know it!"

"It shall be done; I swear it by the Basoche!"

"Au revoir, Monsieur Bahuchet!"

"Mademoiselle, I have the honor to present my respectful homage.--Bonsoir, pretty brunette! Oh! what eyes you make at me, my dear!--Come, come! be calm! I won't speak ill of robbers again!"

"Well!" said Valentine to Miretta, who sat as if lost in thought after the solicitor's clerk had gone. "You say nothing, Miretta; is it because you do not approve of what I have done?"

"That poor girl! She will be very unhappy when her parents know of her fault!" murmured Miretta, with a sigh.

"And suppose another woman should become the mistress of the man you love?" rejoined Valentine, seizing her maid's arm; "would not you be revenged?"

"Oh, yes! yes! You have done well!"

And Miretta raised her eyes, which seemed to emit flames.