CELEBRATED CRIMES, COMPLETE

BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, PERE

IN EIGHT VOLUMES

LA CONSTANTIN--1660

CHAPTER I

Before beginning our story, we must warn the reader that it will not beworth his while to make researches among contemporary or other recordsas to the personage whose name it bears. For in truth neither MarieLeroux, widow of Jacques Constantin, nor her accomplice, ClaudePerregaud, was of sufficient importance to find a place on any list ofgreat criminals, although it is certain that they were guilty of thecrimes with which they were charged. It may seem strange that whatfollows is more a history of the retribution which overtook thecriminals than a circumstantial description of the deeds for which theywere punished; but the crimes were so revolting, and so unsuitable fordiscussion, that it was impossible for us to enter into any details onthe subject, so that what we offer in these pages is, we confess quiteopenly, not a full, true, and particular account of a certain series ofevents leading up to a certain result; it is not even a picture whereinthat result is depicted with artistic completeness, it is only animperfect narrative imperfectly rounded off. We feel sure, however, thatthe healthy-minded reader will be grateful for our reticence and totaldisregard of proportion. In spite of the disadvantage which such atheme imposes on any writer with a deep sense of responsibility, wehave resolved to let in some light on these obscure figures; for wecan imagine no more effective way of throwing into high relief the lowmorals and deep corruption into which all classes of society had sunk atthe termination of the factious dissensions of the Fronde, which formedsuch a fitting prelude to the licence of the reign of the grand roi. 

After this explanation, we shall, without further preamble, introduce the reader to a little tavern in Paris, situated in the rueSaint-Andre-des-Arts, on an evening in November 1658. 

It was about seven o'clock. Three gentlemen were seated at one of thetables in a low, smoky room. They had already emptied several bottles, and one of them seemed to have just suggested some madcap scheme to theothers, the thought of which sent them off into shouts of laughter. 

"Pardu!" said one of them, who was the first to recover his breath, "Imust say it would be an excellent trick. "

"Splendid!" said another; "and if you like, Commander de Jars, we cantry it this very evening. "

"All right, my worthy king's treasurer, provided my pretty nephew herewon't be too much shocked, " and as he spoke de Jars gave to the youngestof the three a caressing touch on the cheek with the back of his hand. 

"That reminds me, de Jars!" said the treasurer, "that word you have justsaid piques my curiosity. For some months now this little fellow here, Chevalier de Moranges, follows you about everywhere like your shadow. You never told us you had a nephew. Where the devil did you get him?"

The commander touched the chevalier's knee under the table, and he, asif to avoid speaking, slowly filled and emptied his glass. 

"Look here, " said the treasurer, "do you want to hear a few plain words, such as I shall rap out when God takes me to task about the peccadilloesof my past life? I don't believe a word about the relationship. A nephewmust be the son of either a brother or a sister. Now, your only sisteris an abbess, and your late brother's marriage was childless. There isonly one way of proving the relationship, and that is to confess thatwhen your brother was young and wild he and Love met, or else Madamel'Abbesse----. "

"Take care, Treasurer Jeannin! no slander against my sister!"

"Well, then, explain; you can't fool me! May I be hanged if I leave thisplace before I have dragged the secret out of you! Either we are friendsor we are not. What you tell no one else you ought to tell me. What!would you make use of my purse and my sword on occasion and yet havesecrets from me? It's too bad: speak, or our friendship is at an end!I give you fair warning that I shall find out everything and publish itabroad to court and city: when I strike a trail there's no turning measide. It will be best for you to whisper your secret voluntarily intomy ear, where it will be as safe as in the grave. "

"How full of curiosity you are, my good friend!" said de Jars, leaningone elbow on the table, and twirling the points of his moustache withhis hand; "but if I were to wrap my secret round the point of a daggerwould you not be too much afraid of pricking your fingers to pull itoff?"

"Not I, " said the king's treasurer, beginning to twirl his moustachealso: "the doctors have always told me that I am of too full acomplexion and that it would do me all the good in the world to be blednow and then. But what would be an advantage to me would be dangerousto you. It's easy to see from your jaundiced phiz that for youblood-letting is no cure. "

"And you would really go that length? You would risk a duel if I refusedto let you get to the bottom of my mystery?"

"Yes, on my honour! Well, how is it to be?"

"My dear boy, " said de Jars to the youth, "we are caught, and may aswell yield gracefully. You don't know this big fellow as well as I do. He's obstinacy itself. You can make the most obstinate donkey go on bypulling its tail hard enough, but when Jeannin gets a notion into hispate, not all the legions of hell can get it out again. Besides that, he's a skilful fencer, so there's nothing for it but to trust him. "

"Just as you like, " said the young man; "you know all my circumstancesand how important it is that my secret should be kept. "

"Oh! among Jeannin's many vices there are a few virtues, and of thesediscretion is the greatest, so that his curiosity is harmless. A quarterof an hour hence he will let himself be killed rather than reveal whatjust now he is ready to risk his skin to find out, whether we will orno. "

Jeannin nodded approvingly, refilled the glasses, and raising his to hislips, said in a tone of triumph--

"I am listening, commander. "

"Well, if it must be, it must. First of all, learn that my nephew is notmy nephew at all. "

"Go on. "

"That his name is not Moranges. "

"And the next?"

"I am not going to reveal his real name to you. "

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know it myself, and no more does the chevalier. "

"What' nonsense!"

"No nonsense at all, but the sober truth. A few months ago the chevaliercame to Paris, bringing me a letter of introduction from a German whomI used to know years ago. This letter requested me to look after thebearer and help him in his investigations. As you said just now, Loveand someone once met somewhere, and that was about all was known as tohis origin. Naturally the young man wants to cut a figure in the world, and would like to discover the author of his existence, that he may havesomeone at hand to pay the debts he is going to incur. We have broughttogether every scrap of information we could collect as to this person, hoping to find therein a clue that we could follow up. To be quite openwith you, and convince you at the same time how extremely prudent anddiscreet we must be, I must tell you that we think we have found one, and that it leads to no less a dignitary than a Prince of the Church. But if he should get wind of our researches too soon everything would beat an end, don't you see? So keep your tongue between your teeth. "

"Never fear, " said Jeannin. 

"Now, that's what I call speaking out as a friend should. I wish youluck, my gallant Chevalier de Moranges, and until you unearth yourfather, if you want a little money, my purse is at your service. On myword, de Jars, you must have been born with a caul. There never was yourequal for wonderful adventures. This one promises well-spicy intrigues, scandalous revelations, and you'll be in the thick of it all. You'rea lucky fellow! It's only a few months since you had the most splendidpiece of good fortune sent you straight from heaven. A fair lady fallsin love with you and makes you carry her off from the convent of LaRaquette. But why do you never let anyone catch a glimpse of her? Areyou jealous? Or is it that she is no such beauty, after all, but old andwrinkled, like that knave of a Mazarin?"

"I know what I'm about, " answered de Jars, smiling; "I have my very goodreasons. The elopement caused a great deal of indignation, and it'snot easy to get fanatics to listen to common sense. No, I am not in theleast jealous; she is madly in love with me. Ask my nephew. "

"Does he know her?"

"We have no secrets from each other; the confidence between us iswithout a flaw. The fair one, believe me, is good to look on, and isworth all the ogling, fan-flirting baggages put together that one seesat court or on the balconies of the Palais Roy: ah! I'll answer forthat. Isn't she, Moranges?"

"I'm quite of your opinion, " said the youth; exchanging with de jars asingularly significant look; "and you had better treat her well, uncle, or I shall play you some trick. "

"Ah! ah!" cried Jeannin. "You poor fellow! I very much fear that you arewarming a little serpent in your bosom. Have an eye to this dandy withthe beardless chin! But joking apart, my boy, are you really on goodterms with the fair lady?"

"Certainly I am. "

"And you are not uneasy, commander?"

"Not the least little bit. "

"He is quite right. I answer for her as for my self, you know; as longas he loves her she will love him; as long as he is faithful she will befaithful. Do you imagine that a woman who insists on her lover carryingher off can so easily turn away from the man of her choice? I knowher well; I have had long talks with her, she and I alone: she isfeather-brained, given to pleasure, entirely without prejudices andthose stupid scruples which spoil the lives of other women; but a goodsort on the whole; devoted to my uncle, with no deception about her; butat the same time extremely jealous, and has no notion of letting herselfbe sacrificed to a rival. If ever she finds herself deceived, good-byeto prudence and reserve, and then--"

A look and a touch of the commander's knee cut this panegyric short, towhich the treasurer was listening with open-eyed astonishment. 

"What enthusiasm!" he exclaimed. "Well, and then----"

"Why, then, " went on the young man, with a laugh, "if my uncle behavesbadly, I, his nephew, will try to make up for his wrong-doing: he can'tblame me then. But until then he may be quite easy, as he well knows. "

"Oh yes, and in proof of that I am going to take Moranges with meto-night. He is young and inexperienced, and it will be a good lessonfor him to see how a gallant whose amorous intrigues did not beginyesterday sets about getting even with a coquette. He can turn it toaccount later on. 

"On my word, " said Jeannin, "my notion is that he is in no great needof a teacher; however, that's your business, not mine. Let us return towhat we were talking about just now. Are we agreed; and shall we amuseourselves by paying out the lady in, her own coin?"

"If you like. "

"Which of us is to begin?"

De Jars struck the table with the handle of his dagger. 

"More wine, gentlemen?" said the drawer, running up. 

"No, dice; and be quick about it. "

"Three casts each and the highest wins, " said Jeannin. "You begin. "

"I throw for myself and nephew. " The dice rolled on the table. 

"Ace and three. "

"It's my turn now. Six and five. "

"Pass it over. Five and two. "

"We're equal. Four and two. "

"Now let me. Ace and blank. "

"Double six. "

"You have won. "

"And I'm off at once, " said Jeannin, rising, and muffling himself inhis mantle, "It's now half-past seven. We shall see each other again ateight, so I won't say good-bye. "

"Good luck to you!"

Leaving the tavern and turning into the rue Pavee, he took the directionof the river. 

CHAPTER II

In 1658, at the corner of the streets Git-le-Coeur and Le Hurepoix (thesite of the latter being now occupied by the Quai des Augustins asfar as Pont Saint-Michel), stood the great mansion which Francis I hadbought and fitted up for the Duchesse d'Etampes. It was at this periodif not in ruins at least beginning to show the ravages of time. Its richinterior decorations had lost their splendour and become antiquated. Fashion had taken up its abode in the Marais, near the Place Royale, andit was thither that profligate women and celebrated beauties now enticedthe humming swarm of old rakes and young libertines. Not one of them allwould have thought of residing in the mansion, or even in the quarter, wherein the king's mistress had once dwelt. It would have been a stepdownward in the social scale, and equivalent to a confession that theircharms were falling in the public estimation. Still, the old palace wasnot empty; it had, on the contrary, several tenants. Like the provincesof Alexander's empire, its vast suites of rooms had been subdivided;and so neglected was it by the gay world that people of the commonestdescription strutted about with impunity where once the proudest nobleshad been glad to gain admittance. There in semi-isolation and despoiledof her greatness lived Angelique-Louise de Guerchi, formerly companionto Mademoiselle de Pons and then maid of honour to Anne of Austria. Her love intrigues and the scandals they gave rise to had led to herdismissal from court. Not that she was a greater sinner than many whoremained behind, only she was unlucky enough or stupid enough to befound out. Her admirers were so indiscreet that they had not left her ashred of reputation, and in a court where a cardinal is the lover of aqueen, a hypocritical appearance of decorum is indispensable to success. So Angelique had to suffer for the faults she was not clever enough tohide. Unfortunately for her, her income went up and down with thenumber and wealth of her admirers, so when she left the court all herpossessions consisted of a few articles she had gathered together out ofthe wreck of her former luxury, and these she was now selling one by oneto procure the necessaries of life, while she looked back from afar withan envious eye at the brilliant world from which she had been exiled, and longed for better days. All hope was not at an end for her. Bya strange law which does not speak well for human nature, vice findssuccess easier to attain than virtue. There is no courtesan, no matterhow low she has fallen, who cannot find a dupe ready to defend againstthe world an honour of which no vestige remains. A man who doubts thevirtue of the most virtuous woman, who shows himself inexorably severewhen he discovers the lightest inclination to falter in one whoseconduct has hitherto been above reproach, will stoop and pick up out ofthe gutter a blighted and tarnished reputation and protect and defendit against all slights, and devote his life to the attempt to restorelustre to the unclean thing dulled by the touch of many fingers. In herdays of prosperity Commander de Jars and the king's treasurer had bothfluttered round Mademoiselle de Guerchi, and neither had fluttered invain. Short as was the period necessary to overcome her scruples, in asshort a period it dawned on the two candidates for her favour that eachhad a successful rival in the other, and that however potent as a reasonfor surrender the doubloons of the treasurer had been, the personalappearance of the commander had proved equally cogent. As both hadfelt for her only a passing fancy and not a serious passion, theirexplanations with each other led to no quarrel between them; silentlyand simultaneously they withdrew from her circle, without even lettingher know they had found her out, but quite determined to revenge, themselves on her should a chance ever offer. However, other affairsof a similar nature had intervened to prevent their carrying out thislaudable intention; Jeannin had laid siege to a more inaccessiblebeauty, who had refused to listen to his sighs for less than 30 crowns, paid in advance, and de Jars had become quite absorbed by his adventurewith the convent boarder at La Raquette, and the business of that youngstranger whom he passed off as his nephew. Mademoiselle de Guerchi hadnever seen them again; and with her it was out of sight out of mind. Atthe moment when she comes into our story she was weaving her toilsround a certain Duc de Vitry, whom she had seen at court, but whoseacquaintance she had never made, and who had been absent when thescandalous occurrence which led to her disgrace came to light. He was aman of from twenty-five to twenty-six years of age, who idled hislife away: his courage was undoubted, and being as credulous as an oldlibertine, he was ready to draw his sword at any moment to defend thelady whose cause he had espoused, should any insolent slanderer dareto hint there was a smirch on her virtue. Being deaf to all reports, heseemed one of those men expressly framed by heaven to be the consolationof fallen women; such a man as in our times a retired opera-dancer or asuperannuated professional beauty would welcome with open arms. Hehad only one fault--he was married. It is true he neglected his wife, according to the custom of the time, and it is probably also true thathis wife cared very little about his infidelities. But still she was aninsurmountable obstacle to the fulfilment of Mademoiselle de Guerchi'shopes, who but for her might have looked forward to one day becoming aduchess. 

For about three weeks, however, at the time we are speaking of, the dukehad neither crossed her threshold nor written. He had told her he wasgoing for a few days to Normandy, where he had large estates, but hadremained absent so long after the date he had fixed for his return thatshe began to feel uneasy. What could be keeping him? Some new flame, perhaps. The anxiety of the lady was all the more keen, that until nownothing had passed between them but looks of languor and words of love. The duke had laid himself and all he possessed at the feet of Angelique, and Angelique had refused his offer. A too prompt surrender would havejustified the reports so wickedly spread against her; and, made wiseby experience, she was resolved not to compromise her future as she hadcompromised her past. But while playing at virtue she had also to playat disinterestedness, and her pecuniary resources were consequentlyalmost exhausted. She had proportioned the length of her resistanceto the length of her purse, and now the prolonged absence of her loverthreatened to disturb the equilibrium which she had established betweenher virtue and her money. So it happened that the cause of the lovelornDuc de Vitry was in great peril just at the moment when de Jars andJeannin resolved to approach the fair one anew. She was sitting lostin thought, pondering in all good faith on the small profit it was to awoman to be virtuous, when she heard voices in the antechamber. Then herdoor opened, and the king's treasurer walked in. 

As this interview and those which follow took place in the presence ofwitnesses, we are obliged to ask the reader to accompany us for a timeto another part of the same house. 

We have said there were several tenants: now the person who occupiedthe rooms next to those in which Mademoiselle de Guerchi lived wasa shopkeeper's widow called Rapally, who was owner of one of thethirty-two houses which then occupied the bridge Saint-Michel. Theyhad all been constructed at the owner's cost, in return for a lease forever. The widow Rapally's avowed age was forty, but those who knew herlongest added another ten years to that: so, to avoid error, let us sayshe was forty-five. She was a solid little body, rather stouter than wasnecessary for beauty; her hair was black, her complexion brown, her eyesprominent and always moving; lively, active, and if one once yielded toher whims, exacting beyond measure; but until then buxom and soft, andinclined to pet and spoil whoever, for the moment, had arrested hervolatile fancy. Just as we make her acquaintance this happy individualwas a certain Maitre Quennebert, a notary of Saint Denis, and the comedyplayed between him and the widow was an exact counterpart of the onegoing on in the rooms of Mademoiselle de Guerchi, except that the roleswere inverted; for while the lady was as much in love as the Duc deVitry, the answering devotion professed by the notary was as insincereas the disinterested attachment to her lover displayed by the whilommaid of honour. 

Maitre Quennebert was still young and of attractive appearance, but hisbusiness affairs were in a bad way. For long he had been pretending notto understand the marked advances of the widow, and he treated her witha reserve and respect she would fain have dispensed with, and whichsometimes made her doubt of his love. But it was impossible for her asa woman to complain, so she was forced to accept with resignation thepersistent and unwelcome consideration with which he surrounded her. Maitre Quennebert was a man of common sense and much experience, and hadformed a scheme which he was prevented from carrying out by an obstaclewhich he had no power to remove. He wanted, therefore, to gain time, forhe knew that the day he gave the susceptible widow a legal right overhim he would lose his independence. A lover to whose prayers the adoredone remains deaf too long is apt to draw back in discouragement, but awoman whose part is restricted to awaiting those prayers, and answeringwith a yes or no, necessarily learns patience. Maitre Quennebert wouldtherefore have felt no anxiety as to the effect of his dilatoriness onthe widow, were it not for the existence of a distant cousin of thelate Monsieur Rapally, who was also paying court to her, and that witha warmth much greater than had hitherto been displayed by himself. Thisfact, in view of the state of the notary's affairs, forced him at lastto display more energy. To make up lost ground and to outdistance hisrival once more, he now began to dazzle the widow with fine phrases anddelight her with compliments; but to tell the truth all this trouble wassuperfluous; he was beloved, and with one fond look he might have wonpardon for far greater neglect. 

An hour before the treasurer's arrival there had been a knock at thedoor of the old house, and Maitre Quennebert, curled, pomaded, andprepared for conquest, had presented himself at the widow's. Shereceived him with a more languishing air than usual, and shot sucharrows at him froth her eyes that to escape a fatal wound he pretendedto give way by degrees to deep sadness. The widow, becoming alarmed, asked with tenderness--

"What ails you this evening?"

He rose, feeling he had nothing to fear from his rival, and, beingmaster of the field, might henceforth advance or recede as seemed bestfor his interests. 

"What ails me?" he repeated, with a deep sigh. "I might deceive you, might give you a misleading answer, but to you I cannot lie. I am ingreat trouble, and how to get out of it I don't know. "

"But tell me what it is, " said the widow, standing up in her turn. 

Maitre Quennebert took three long strides, which brought him to the farend of the room, and asked--

"Why do you want to know? You can't help me. My trouble is of a kind aman does not generally confide to women. "

"What is it? An affair of honour?

"Yes. "

"Good God! You are going to fight!" she exclaimed, trying to seize himby the arm. "You are going to fight!"

"Ah! if it were nothing worse than that!" said Quennebert, pacing up anddown the room: "but you need not be alarmed; it is only a money trouble. I lent a large sum, a few months ago, to a friend, but the knave has runaway and left me in the lurch. It was trust money, and must be replacedwithin three days. But where am I to get two thousand francs?"

"Yes, that is a large sum, and not easy to raise at such short notice. "

"I shall be obliged to have recourse to some Jew, who will drain me dry. But I must save my good name at all costs. "

Madame Rapally gazed at him in consternation. Maitre Quennebert, divining her thought, hastened to add--

"I have just one-third of what is needed. "

"Only one-third?"

"With great care, and by scraping together all I possess, I can make upeight hundred livres. But may I be damned in the next world, or punishedas a swindler in this, and one's as bad as the other to me, if I canraise one farthing more. "

"But suppose someone should lend you the twelve hundred francs, whatthen?"

"Pardieu! I should accept them, " cried the notary as if he had not theleast suspicion whom she could mean. "Do you happen to know anyone, mydear Madame Rapally?"

The widow nodded affirmatively, at the same time giving him a passionateglance. 

"Tell me quick the name of this delightful person, and I shall go to himto-morrow morning. You don't know what a service you are rendering me. And I was so near not telling you of the fix I was in, lest you shouldtorment yourself uselessly. Tell me his name. "

"Can you not guess it?"

"How should I guess it?"

"Think well. Does no one occur to you?"

"No, no one, " said Quennebert, with the utmost innocence. 

"Have you no friends?"

"One or two. "

"Would they not be glad to help you?"

"They might. But I have mentioned the matter to no one. "

"To no one?"

"Except you. "

"Well?"

"Well, Madame Rapally--I hope I don't understand you; it's not possible;you would not humiliate me. Come, come, it's a riddle, and I am toostupid to solve it. I give it up. Don't tantalise me any longer; tell methe name. "

The widow, somewhat abashed by this exhibition of delicacy on the partof Maitre Quennebert, blushed, cast down her eyes, and did not ventureto speak. 

As the silence lasted some time, it occurred to the notary that he hadbeen perhaps too hasty in his supposition, and he began to cast roundfor the best means of retrieving his blunder. 

"You do not speak, " he said; "I see it was all a joke. "

"No, " said the widow at last in a timid voice, "it was no joke; I wasquite in earnest. But the way you take things is not very encouraging. "

"What do you mean?"

"Pray, do you imagine that I can go on while you glare at me with thatangry frown puckering your forehead, as if you had someone before youwho had tried to insult you?"

A sweet smile chased the frown from the notary's brow. Encouraged bythe suspension of hostilities, Madame Rapally with sudden boldnessapproached him, and, pressing one of his hands in both her own, whispered--

"It is I who am going to lend you the money. "

He repulsed her gently, but with an air of great dignity, and said--

"Madame, I thank you, but I cannot accept. "

"Why can't you?"

At this he began to walk round and round the room, while the widow, whostood in the middle, turned as upon a pivot, keeping him always in view. This circus-ring performance lasted some minutes before Quennebert stoodstill and said--

"I cannot be angry with you, Madame Rapally, I know your offer wasmade out of the kindness of your heart, --but I must repeat that it isimpossible for me to accept it. "

"There you go again! I don't understand you at all! Why can't youaccept? What harm would it do?"

"If there were no other reason, because people might suspect that Iconfided my difficulties to you in the hope of help. "

"And supposing you did, what then? People speak hoping to be understood. You wouldn't have minded asking anyone else. "

"So you really think I did come in that hope?"

"Mon Dieu! I don't think anything at all that you don't want. It was Iwho dragged the confidence from you by my questions, I know that verywell. But now that you have told me your secret, how can you hinder mefrom sympathising with you, from desiring to aid you? When I learnedyour difficulty, ought I to have been amused, and gone into fits oflaughter? What! it's an insult to be in a position to render you aservice! That's a strange kind of delicacy!"

"Are you astonished that I should feel so strongly about it?"

"Nonsense! Do you still think I meant to offend you? I look on you asthe most honourable man in the world. If anyone were to tell me thathe had seen you commit a base action, I should reply that it was a lie. Does that satisfy you?"

"But suppose they got hold of it in the city, suppose it were reportedthat Maitre Quennebert had taken money from Madame de Rapally, wouldit be the same as if they said Maitre Quennebert had borrowed twelvehundred livres from Monsieur Robert or some other business man?"

"I don't see what difference it could make. "

"But I do. "

"What then?"

"It's not easy to express, but----"

"But you exaggerate both the service and the gratitude you ought tofeel. I think I know why you refuse. You're ashamed to take it as agift, aren't you. "

"Yes, I am. "

"Well, I'm not going to make you a gift. Borrow twelve hundred livresfrom me. For how long do you want the money?"

"I really don't know how soon I can repay you. "

"Let's say a year, and reckon the interest. Sit down there, you baby, and write out a promissory note. "

Maitre Quennebert made some further show of resistance, but at lastyielded to the widow's importunity. It is needless to say that the wholething was a comedy on his part, except that he really needed the money. But he did not need it to replace a sum of which a faithless friend hadrobbed him, but to satisfy his own creditors, who, out of all patiencewith him, were threatening to sue him, and his only reason for seekingout Madame de Rapally was to take advantage of her generous dispositiontowards himself. His feigned delicacy was intended to induce her toinsist so urgently, that in accepting he should not fall too much inher esteem, but should seem to yield to force. And his plan met withcomplete success, for at the end of the transaction he stood higherthan ever in the opinion of his fair creditor, on account of the noblesentiments he had expressed. The note was written out in legal form andthe money counted down on the spot. 

"How glad I am!" said she then, while Quennebert still kept up somepretence of delicate embarrassment, although he could not resist castinga stolen look at the bag of crowns lying on the table beside his cloak. "Do you intend to go back to Saint Denis to-night?"

Even had such been his intention, the notary would have taken very goodcare not to say so; for he foresaw the accusations of imprudence thatwould follow, the enumeration of the dangers by the way; and it wasquite on the cards even that, having thus aroused his fears, his fairhostess should in deference to them offer him hospitality for the night, and he did not feel inclined for an indefinitely prolonged tete-a-tete. 

"No;" he said, "I am going to sleep at Maitre Terrasson's, rue desPoitevins; I have sent him word to expect me. But although his houseis only a few yards distant, I must leave you earlier than I could havewished, on account of this money. "

"Will you think of me?"

"How can you ask?" replied Quennebert, with a sentimental expression. "You have compelled me to accept the money, but--I shall not be happytill I have repaid you. Suppose this loan should make us fall out?"

"You may be quite sure that if you don't pay when the bill falls due, Ishall have recourse to the law. "

"Oh, I know that very well. "

"I shall enforce all my rights as a creditor. "

"I expect nothing else. "

"I shall show no pity. "

And the widow gave a saucy laugh and shook her finger at him. 

"Madame Rapally, " said the notary, who was most anxious to bring thisconversation to an end, dreading every moment that it would take alanguishing tone, -"Madame Rapally, will you add to your goodness bygranting me one more favour?"

"What is it?"

"The gratitude that is simulated is not difficult to bear, but genuine, sincere gratitude, such as I feel, is a heavy burden, as I can assureyou. It is much easier to give than to receive. Promise me, then, thatfrom now till the year is up there shall be no more reference betweenus to this money, and that we shall go on being good friends as before. Leave it to me to make arrangements to acquit myself honourably of myobligations towards you. I need say no more; till a year's up, mum's theword. "

"It shall be as you desire, Maitre Quennebert, " answered Madame Rapally, her eyes shining with delight. "It was never my intention to lay youunder embarrassing obligations, and I leave it all to you. Do you knowthat I am beginning to believe in presentiments?"

"You becoming superstitious! Why, may I ask?"

"I refused to do a nice little piece of ready-money business thismorning. "

"Did you?"

"Yes, because I had a sort of feeling that made me resist all temptationto leave myself without cash. Imagine! I received a visit to-day from agreat lady who lives in this house--in the suite of apartments next tomine. "

"What is her name?"

"Mademoiselle de Guerchi. "

"And what did she want with you?"

"She called in order to ask me to buy, for four hundred livres, someof her jewels which are well worth six hundred, for I understand suchthings; or should I prefer it to lend her that sum and keep the jewelsas security? It appears that mademoiselle is in great straits. DeGuerchi--do you know the name?"

"I think I have heard it. "

"They say she has had a stormy past, and has been greatly talked of; butthen half of what one hears is lies. Since she came to live here shehas been very quiet. No visitors except one--a nobleman, a duke--wait amoment! What's his name? The Duc-Duc de Vitry; and for over three weekseven he hasn't been near her. I imagine from this absence that they havefallen out, and that she is beginning to feel the want of money. "

"You seem to be intimately acquainted with this young woman's affairs. "

"Indeed I am, and yet I never spoke to her till this morning. "

"How did you get your information, then?"

"By chance. The room adjoining this and one of those she occupies wereformerly one large room, which is now divided into two by a partitionwall covered with tapestry; but in the two corners the plaster hascrumbled away with time, and one can see into the room through slits inthe tapestry without being seen oneself. Are you inquisitive?"

"Not more than you, Madame Rapally. "

"Come with me. Someone knocked at the street door a few moments ago;there's no one else in the douse likely to have visitors at this hour. Perhaps her admirer has come back. "

"If so, we are going to witness a scene of recrimination orreconciliation. How delightful!"

Although he was not leaving the widow's lodgings, Maitre Quennebert tookup his hat and cloak and the blessed bag of crown pieces, and followedMadame Rapally on tiptoe, who on her side moved as slowly as a tortoiseand as lightly as she could. They succeeded in turning the handle of thedoor into the next room without making much noise. 

"'Sh!" breathed the widow softly; "listen, they are speaking. "

She pointed to the place where he would find a peep-hole in one cornerof the room, and crept herself towards the corresponding corner. Quennebert, who was by no means anxious to have her at his side, motioned to her to blow out the light. This being done, he felt secure, for he knew that in the intense darkness which now enveloped them shecould not move from her place without knocking against the furniturebetween them, so he glued his face to the partition. An opening justlarge enough for one eye allowed him to see everything that was goingon in the next room. Just as he began his observations, the treasurer atMademoiselle de Guerchi's invitation was about to take a seat near her, but not too near for perfect respect. Both of them were silent, andappeared to labour under great embarrassment at finding themselvestogether, and explanations did not readily begin. The lady had notan idea of the motive of the visit, and her quondam lover feignedthe emotion necessary to the success of his undertaking. Thus MaitreQuennebert had full time to examine both, and especially Angelique. Thereader will doubtless desire to know what was the result of the notary'sobservation. 

CHAPTER III

ANGELIQUE-LOUISE DE GUERCHI was a woman of about twenty-eight years ofage, tall, dark, and well made. The loose life she had led had, it istrue, somewhat staled her beauty, marred the delicacy of her complexion, and coarsened the naturally elegant curves of her figure; but it is suchwomen who from time immemorial have had the strongest attraction forprofligate men. It seems as if dissipation destroyed the power toperceive true beauty, and the man of pleasure must be aroused toadmiration by a bold glance and a meaning smile, and will only seeksatisfaction along the trail left by vice. Louise-Angelique wasadmirably adapted for her way of life; not that her features wore anexpression of shameless effrontery, or that the words that passed herlips bore habitual testimony to the disorders of her existence, but thatunder a calm and sedate demeanour there lurked a secret and indefinablecharm. Many other women possessed more regular features, but none ofthem had a greater power of seduction. We must add that she owed thatpower entirely to her physical perfections, for except in regard tothe devices necessary to her calling, she showed no cleverness, being ignorant, dull and without inner resources of any kind. As hertemperament led her to share the desires she excited, she was reallyincapable of resisting an attack conducted with skill and ardour, andif the Duc de Vitry had not been so madly in love, which is the sameas saying that he was hopelessly blind, silly, and dense to everythingaround him, he might have found a score of opportunities to overcomeher resistance. We have already seen that she was so straitened in moneymatters that she had been driven to try to sell her jewels that very, morning. 

Jeannin was the first to 'break silence. 

"You are astonished at my visit, I know, my charming Angelique. But youmust excuse my thus appearing so unexpectedly before you. The truth is, I found it impossible to leave Paris without seeing you once more. "

"Thank you for your kind remembrance, " said she, "but I did not at allexpect it. "

"Come, come, you are offended with me. "

She gave him a glance of mingled disdain and resentment; but he went on, in a timid, wistful tone--

"I know that my conduct must have seemed strange to you, and Iacknowledge that nothing can justify a man for suddenly leaving thewoman he loves--I do not dare to say the woman who loves him--without aword of explanation. But, dear Angelique, I was jealous. "

"Jealous!" she repeated incredulously. 

"I tried my best to overcome the feeling, and I hid my suspicions fromyou. Twenty times I came to see you bursting with anger and determinedto overwhelm you with reproaches, but at the sight of your beauty Iforgot everything but that I loved you. My suspicions dissolved before asmile; one word from your lips charmed me into happiness. But when I wasagain alone my terrors revived, I saw my rivals at your feet, and ragepossessed me once more. Ah! you never knew how devotedly I loved you. "

She let him speak without interruption; perhaps the same thought was inher mind as in Quennebert's, who, himself a past master in the art oflying; was thinking--

"The man does not believe a word of what he is saying. "

But the treasurer went on--

"I can see that even now you doubt my sincerity. "

"Does my lord desire that his handmaiden should be blunt? Well, I knowthat there is no truth in what you say. "

"Oh! I can see that you imagine that among the distractions of the worldI have kept no memory of you, and have found consolation in the love ofless obdurate fair ones. I have not broken in on your retirement; I havenot shadowed your steps; I have not kept watch on your actions; I havenot surrounded you with spies who would perhaps have brought me theassurance, 'If she quitted the world which outraged her, she was notdriven forth by an impulse of wounded pride or noble indignation; shedid not even seek to punish those who misunderstood her by her absence;she buried herself where she was unknown, that she might indulgein stolen loves. ' Such were the thoughts that came to me, and yet Irespected your hiding-place; and to-day I am ready to believe you true, if you will merely say, 'I love no one else!'"

Jeannin, who was as fat as a stage financier, paused here to gasp;for the utterance of this string of banalities, this rigmarole ofcommonplaces, had left him breathless. He was very much dissatisfiedwith his performance; and ready to curse his barren imagination. Helonged to hit upon swelling phrases and natural and touching gestures, but in vain. He could only look at Mademoiselle de Guerchi with amiserable, heart-broken air. She remained quietly seated, with the sameexpression of incredulity on her features. 

So there was nothing for it but to go on once more. 

"But this one assurance that I ask you will not give. So what Ihave--been told is true: you have given your love to him. "

She could not check a startled movement. 

"You see it is only when I speak of him that I can overcome in you theinsensibility which is killing me. My suspicions were true after all:you deceived me for his sake. Oh! the instinctive feeling of jealousywas right which forced me to quarrel with that man, to reject theperfidious friendship which he tried to force upon me. He has returnedto town, and we shall meet! But why do I say 'returned'? Perhaps heonly pretended to go away, and safe in this retreat has flouted withimpunity, my despair and braved my vengeance!"

Up to this the lady had played a waiting game, but now she grew quiteconfused, trying to discover the thread of the treasurer's thoughts. Towhom did he refer? The Duc de Vitry? That had been her first impression. But the duke had only been acquainted with her for a few months--sinceshe had--left Court. He could not therefore have excited the jealousyof her whilom lover; and if it were not he, to whom did the words aboutrejecting "perfidious friendship, " and "returned to town, " and so on, apply? Jeannin divined her embarrassment, and was not a little proudof the tactics which would, he was almost sure; force her to exposeherself. For there are certain women who can be thrown into cruelperplexity by speaking to them of their love-passages without affixing aproper name label to each. They are placed as it were on the edge of anabyss, and forced to feel their way in darkness. To say "You have loved"almost obliges them to ask, "Whom?"

Nevertheless, this was not the word uttered by Mademoiselle de Guerchiwhile she ran through in her head a list of possibilities. Her answerwas--

"Your language astonishes me; I don't understand what you mean. "

The ice was broken, and the treasurer made a plunge. Seizing one ofAngelique's hands, he asked--

"Have you never seen Commander de Jars since then?"

"Commander de Jars!" exclaimed Angelique. 

"Can you swear to me, Angelique, that you love him not?"

"Mon Dieu! What put it into your head that I ever cared for him? It'sover four months since I saw him last, and I hadn't an idea whether hewas alive or dead. So he has been out of town? That's the first I heardof it. "

"My fortune is yours, Angelique! Oh! assure me once again that youdo not love him--that you never loved him!" he pleaded in a falteringvoice, fixing a look of painful anxiety upon her. 

He had no intention of putting her out of countenance by the course hetook; he knew quite well that a woman like Angelique is never moreat her ease than when she has a chance of telling an untruth of thisnature. Besides, he had prefaced this appeal by the magic words, "Myfortune' is yours!" and the hope thus aroused was well worth a perjury. So she answered boldly and in a steady voice, while she looked straightinto his eyes--

"Never!"

"I believe you!" exclaimed Jeannin, going down on his knees and coveringwith his kisses the hand he still held. "I can taste happiness again. Listen, Angelique. I am leaving Paris; my mother is dead, and I am goingback to Spain. Will you follow me thither?"

"I---follow you?"

"I hesitated long before finding you out, so much did I fear a repulse. I set out to-morrow. Quit Paris, leave the world which has slanderedyou, and come with me. In a fortnight we shall be man and wife. "

"You are not in earnest!"

"May I expire at your feet if I am not! Do you want me to sign the oathwith my blood?"

"Rise, " she said in a broken voice. "Have I at last found a man to loveme and compensate me for all the abuse that has been showered on myhead? A thousand times I thank you, not for what you are doing for me, but for the balm you pour on my wounded spirit. Even if you were tosay to me now, 'After all, I am obliged to give you up' the pleasureof knowing you esteem me would make up for all the rest. It would beanother happy memory to treasure along with my memory of our love, whichwas ineffaceable, although you so ungratefully suspected me of havingdeceived you. "

The treasurer appeared fairly intoxicated with joy. He indulged ina thousand ridiculous extravagances and exaggerations, and declaredhimself the happiest of men. Mademoiselle de Guerchi, who was desirousof being prepared for every peril, asked him in a coaxing tone--

"Who can have put it into your head to be jealous of the commander? Hashe been base enough to boast that I ever gave him my love?"

"No, he never said anything about you; but someway I was afraid. "

She renewed her assurances. The conversation continued some time in asentimental tone. A thousand oaths, a thousand protestations of lovewere, exchanged. Jeannin feared that the suddenness of their journeywould inconvenience his mistress, and offered to put it off for somedays; but to this she would not consent, and it was arranged that thenext day at noon a carriage should call at the house and take Angeliqueout of town to an appointed place at which the treasurer was to joinher. 

Maitre Quennebert, eye and ear on the alert, had not lost a word ofthis conversation, and the last proposition of the treasurer changed hisideas. 

"Pardieu!" he said to himself, "it looks as if this good man were reallygoing to let himself be taken in and done for. It is singular how veryclear-sighted we can be about things that don't touch us. This poor flyis going to let himself be caught by a very clever spider, or I'm muchmistaken. Very likely my widow is quite of my opinion, and yet in whatconcerns herself she will remain stone-blind. Well, such is life! Wehave only two parts to choose between: we must be either knave or fool. What's Madame Rapally doing, I wonder?"

At this moment he heard a stifled whisper from the opposite corner ofthe room, but, protected by the distance and the darkness, he let thewidow murmur on, and applied his eye once more to his peephole. Whathe saw confirmed his opinion. The damsel was springing up and down, laughing, gesticulating, and congratulating herself on her unexpectedgood fortune. 

"Just imagine! He loves me like that!" she was saying to herself. "PoorJeannin! When I remember how I used to hesitate. How fortunate thatCommander de Jars, one of the most vain and indiscreet of men, neverbabbled about me! Yes, we must leave town to-morrow without fail. I mustnot give him time to be enlightened by a chance word. But the Duc deVitry? I am really sorry for him. However, why did he go away, and sendno word? And then, he's a married man. Ah! if I could only get backagain to court some day!. . . Who would ever have expected such a thing?Good God! I must keep talking to myself, to be sure I'm not dreaming. Yes, he was there, just now, at my feet, saying to me, 'Angelique, youare going to become my wife. ' One thing is sure, he may safely entrusthis honour to my care. It would be infamous to betray a man who loves meas he does, who will give me his name. Never, no, never will I give himcause to reproach me! I would rather----"

A loud and confused noise on the stairs interrupted this soliloquy. Atone moment bursts of laughter were heard, and the next angry voices. Then a loud exclamation, followed by a short silence. Being alarmed atthis disturbance in a house which was usually so quiet, Mademoiselle deGuerchi approached the door of her room, intending either to call forprotection or to lock herself in, when suddenly it was violently pushedopen. She recoiled with fright, exclaiming--

"Commander de Jars!"

"On my word!" said Quennebert behind the arras, "'tis as amusing as aplay! Is the commander also going to offer to make an honest woman ofher? But what do I see?"

He had just caught sight of the young man on whom de Jars had bestowedthe title and name of Chevalier de Moranges, and whose acquaintance thereader has already made at the tavern in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. His appearance had as great an effect on the notary as a thunderbolt. He stood motionless, trembling, breathless; his knees ready to give waybeneath him; everything black before his eyes. However, he soon pulledhimself together, and succeeded in overcoming the effects of hissurprise and terror. He looked once more through the hole in thepartition, and became so absorbed that no one in the whole worldcould have got a word from him just then; the devil himself might haveshrieked into his ears unheeded, and a naked sword suspended over hishead would not have induced him to change his place. 

CHAPTER IV

Before Mademoiselle de Guerchi had recovered from her fright thecommander spoke. 

"As I am a gentleman, my beauty, if you were the Abbess of Montmartre, you could not be more difficult of access. I met a blackguard on thestairs who tried to stop me, and whom I was obliged to thrash soundly. Is what they told me on my return true? Are you really doing penance, and do you intend to take the veil?"

"Sir, " answered Angelique, with great dignity, "whatever may be myplans, I have a right to be surprised at your violence and at yourintrusion at such an hour. "

"Before we go any farther, " said de Jars, twirling round on his heels, "allow me to present to you my nephew, the Chevalier de Moranges. "

"Chevalier de Moranges!" muttered Quennebert, on whose memory in thatinstant the name became indelibly engraven. 

"A young man, " continued the commander, "who has come back with me fromabroad. Good style, as you see, charming appearance. Now, you younginnocent, lift up your great black eyes and kiss madame's hand; I allowit. "

"Monsieur le commandeur, leave my room; begone, or I shall call----"

"Whom, then? Your lackeys? But I have beaten the only one you keep, asI told you, and it will be some time before he'll be in a condition tolight me downstairs: 'Begone, ' indeed! Is that the way you receive anold friend? Pray be seated, chevalier. "

He approached Mademoiselle de Guerchi, and, despite her resistance, seized hold of one of her hands, and forcing her to sit down, seatedhimself beside her. 

"That's right, my girl, " said he; "now let us talk sense. I understandthat before a stranger you consider yourself obliged to appearastonished at my ways of going on. But he knows all about us, andnothing he may see or hear will surprise him. So a truce to prudery!I came back yesterday, but I could not make out your hiding-place tillto-day. Now I'm not going to ask you to tell me how you have gone on inmy absence. God and you alone know, and while He will tell me nothing, you would only tell me fibs, and I want to save you from that venial sinat least. But here I am, in as good spirits as ever, more in love thanever, and quite ready to resume my old habits. "

Meantime the lady, quite subdued by his noisy entrance and ruffianlyconduct, and seeing that an assumption of dignity would only drawdown on her some fresh impertinence, appeared to resign herself toher position. All this time Quennebert never took his eyes from thechevalier, who sat with his face towards the partition. His elegantlycut costume accentuated his personal advantages. His jet black hairbrought into relief the whiteness of his forehead; his large dark eyeswith their veined lids and silky lashes had a penetrating and peculiarexpression--a mixture of audacity and weakness; his thin and somewhatpale lips were apt to curl in an ironical smile; his hands were ofperfect beauty, his feet of dainty smallness, and he showed with anaffectation of complaisance a well-turned leg above his ample boots, theturned down tops of which, garnished with lace, fell in irregular foldsaver his ankles in the latest fashion. He did not appear to be morethan eighteen years of age, and nature had denied his charming face thedistinctive sign of his sex for not the slightest down was visible onhis chin, though a little delicate pencilling darkened his upper lip:His slightly effeminate style of beauty, the graceful curves of hisfigure, his expression, sometimes coaxing, sometimes saucy, remindingone of a page, gave him the appearance of a charming young scapegracedestined to inspire sudden passions and wayward fancies. While hispretended uncle was making himself at home most unceremoniously, Quennebert remarked that the chevalier at once began to lay siege to hisfair hostess, bestowing tender and love-laden glances on her behind thatuncle's back. This redoubled his curiosity. 

"My dear girl, " said the commander, "since I saw you last I have comeinto a fortune of one hundred thousand livres, neither more nor less. One of my dear aunts took it into her head to depart this life, and hertemper being crotchety and spiteful she made me her sole heir, in orderto enrage those of her relatives who had nursed her in her illness. Onehundred thousand livres! It's a round sum--enough to cut a great figurewith for two years. If you like, we shall squander it together, capitaland interest. Why do you not speak? Has anyone else robbed me by anychance of your heart? If that were so, I should be in despair, upon myword-for the sake of the fortunate individual who had won your favour;for I will brook no rivals, I give you fair warning. "

"Monsieur le commandeur, " answered Angelique, "you forget, in speakingto me in that manner, I have never given you any right to control myactions. "

"Have we severed our connection?"

At this singular question Angelique started, but de Jars continued--

"When last we parted we were on the best of terms, were we not? I knowthat some months have elapsed since then, but I have explained toyou the reason of my absence. Before filling up the blank left by thedeparted we must give ourselves space to mourn. Well, was I right in myguess? Have you given me a successor?"

Mademoiselle de Guerchi had hitherto succeeded in controlling herindignation, and had tried to force herself to drink the bitter cup ofhumiliation to the dregs; but now she could bear it no longer. Havingthrown a look expressive of her suffering at the young chevalier, whocontinued to ogle her with great pertinacity, she decided on burstinginto tears, and in a voice broken by sobs she exclaimed that she wasmiserable at being treated in this manner, that she did not deserveit, and that Heaven was punishing her for her error in yielding to theentreaties of the commander. One would have sworn she was sincereand that the words came from her heart. If Maitre Quennebert had notwitnessed the scene with Jeannin, if he had not known how frail wasthe virtue of the weeping damsel, he might have been affected byher touching plaint. The chevalier appeared to be deeply moved byAngelique's grief, and while his, uncle was striding up and down theroom and swearing like a trooper, he gradually approached her andexpressed by signs the compassion he felt. 

Meantime the notary was in a strange state of mind. He had not yet madeup his mind whether the whole thing was a joke arranged between deJars and Jeannin or not, but of one thing he was quite convinced, thesympathy which Chevalier de Moranges was expressing by passionate sighsand glances was the merest hypocrisy. Had he been alone, nothing wouldhave prevented his dashing head foremost into this imbroglio, in scornof consequence, convinced that his appearance would be as terriblein its effect as the head of Medusa. But the presence of the widowrestrained him. Why ruin his future and dry up the golden spring whichhad just begun to gush before his eyes, for the sake of taking part in amelodrama? Prudence and self-interest kept him in the side scenes. 

The tears of the fair one and the glances of the chevalier awoke norepentance in the breast of the commander; on the contrary, he began tovent his anger in terms still more energetic. He strode up and down theoaken floor till it shook under his spurred heels; he stuck his plumedhat on the side of his head, and displayed the manners of a bully in aSpanish comedy. Suddenly he seemed to have come to a swift resolution:the expression of his face changed from rage to icy coldness, andwalking up to Angelique, he said, with a composure more terrible thanthe wildest fury--

"My rival's name?"

"You shall never learn it from me!"

"Madame, his name?"

"Never! I have borne your insults too long. I am not responsible to youfor my actions. "

"Well, I shall learn it, in spite of you, and I know to whom to apply. Do you think you can play fast and loose with me and my love? No, no! Iused to believe in you; I turned, a deaf ear to your traducers. My madpassion for you became known; I was the jest and the butt of the town. But you have opened my eyes, and at last I see clearly on whom myvengeance ought to fall. He was formerly my friend, and I would believenothing against him; although I was often warned, I took no notice. Butnow I will seek him out, and say to him, 'You have stolen what was mine;you are a scoundrel! It must be your life, or mine!' And if, there isjustice in heaven, I shall kill him! Well, madame, you don't ask me thename of this man! You well know whom I mean!"

This threat brought home to Mademoiselle de Guerchi how imminent was herdanger. At first she had thought the commander's visit might be a snarelaid to test her, but the coarseness of his expressions, the cynicism ofhis overtures in the presence of a third person, had convinced hershe was wrong. No man could have imagined that the revolting method ofseduction employed could meet with success, and if the commander haddesired to convict her of perfidy he would have come alone and made useof more persuasive weapons. No, he believed he still had claims on her, but even if he had, by his manner of enforcing them he had renderedthem void. However, the moment he threatened to seek out a rival whoseidentity he designated quite clearly, and reveal to him the secret itwas so necessary to her interests to keep hidden, the poor girl lost herhead. She looked at de Jars with a frightened expression, and said in atrembling voice--

"I don't know whom you mean. "

"You don't know? Well, I shall commission the king's treasurer, Jeanninde Castille, to come here to-morrow and tell you, an hour before ourduel. "

"Oh no! no! Promise me you will not do that!" cried she, clasping herhands. 

"Adieu, madame. "

"Do not leave me thus! I cannot let you go till you give me yourpromise!"

She threw herself on her knees and clung with both her hands to de Jars'cloak, and appealing to Chevalier de Moranges, said--

"You are young, monsieur; I have never done you any harm; protect me, have pity on me, help me to soften him!"

"Uncle, " said the chevalier in a pleading tone, "be generous, and don'tdrive this woman to despair. "

"Prayers are useless!" answered the commander. 

"What do you want me to do?" said Angelique. "Shall I go into a conventto atone? I am ready to go. Shall I promise never to see him again? ForGod's sake, give me a little time; put off your vengeance for one singleday! To-morrow evening, I swear to you, you will have nothing more tofear from me. I thought myself forgotten by you and abandoned; and howshould I think otherwise? You left me without a word of farewell, youstayed away and never sent me a line! And how do you know that I didnot weep when you deserted me, leaving me to pass my days in monotonoussolitude? How do you know that I did not make every effort to find outwhy you were so long absent from my side? You say you had left town buthow was I to know that? Oh! promise me, if you love me, to give up thisduel! Promise me not to seek that man out to-morrow!"

The poor creature hoped to work wonders with her eloquence, hertears, her pleading glances. On hearing her prayer for a reprieve oftwenty-four hours, swearing that after that she would never see Jeanninagain, the commander and the chevalier were obliged to bite theirlips to keep from laughing outright. But the former soon regained hisself-possession, and while Angelique, still on her knees before him, pressed his hands to her bosom, he forced her to raise her head, andlooking straight into her eyes, said--

"To-morrow, madame, if not this evening, he shall know everything, and ameeting shall take place. "

Then pushing her away, he strode towards the door. 

"Oh! how unhappy I am!" exclaimed Angelique. 

She tried to rise and rush after him, but whether she was reallyovercome by her feelings, or whether she felt the one chance ofprevailing left her was to faint, she uttered a heartrending cry, andthe chevalier had no choice but to support her sinking form. 

De Jars, on seeing his nephew staggering under this burden, gave aloud laugh, and hurried away. Two minutes later he was once more at thetavern in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. 

"How's this? Alone?" said Jeannin. 

"Alone. "

"What have you done with the chevalier?"

"I left him with our charmer, who was unconscious, overcome with grief, exhausted Ha! ha! ha! She fell fainting into his arms! Ha! ha! ha!"

"It's quite possible that the young rogue, being left with her in such acondition, may cut me out. "

"Do you think so?--Ha! ha! ha!"

And de Jars laughed so heartily and so infectiously that his worthyfriend was obliged to join in, and laughed till he choked. 

In the short silence which followed the departure of the commander, Maitre Quennebert could hear the widow still murmuring something, but hewas less disposed than ever to attend to her. 

"On my word, " said he, "the scene now going on is more curious than allthat went before. I don't think that a man has ever found himself insuch a position as mine. Although my interests demand that I remain hereand listen, yet my fingers are itching to box the ears of that Chevalierde Moranges. If there were only some way of getting at a proof of allthis! Ah! now we shall hear something; the hussy is coming to herself. "

And indeed Angelique had opened her eyes and was casting wild looksaround her; she put her hand to her brow several times, as if trying torecall clearly what had happened. 

"Is he gone?" she exclaimed at last. "Oh, why did you let him go? Youshould not have minded me, but kept him here. "

"Be calm, " answered the chevalier, "be calm, for heaven's sake. I shallspeak to my uncle and prevent his ruining your prospects. Only don'tweep any more, your tears break my heart. Ah, my God! how cruel it isto distress you so! I should never be able to withstand your tears;no matter what reason I had for anger, a look from you would make meforgive you everything. "

"Noble young man!" said Angelique. 

"Idiot!" muttered Maitre Quennebert; "swallow the honey of his words, do But how the deuce is it going to end? Not Satan himself ever inventedsuch a situation. "

"But then I could never believe you guilty without proof, irrefutableproof; and even then a word from you would fill my mind with doubt anduncertainty again. Yes, were the whole world to accuse you and swear toyour guilt, I should still believe your simple word. I am young, madam, I have never known love as yet--until an instant ago I had no ideathat more quickly than an image can excite the admiration of the eye, athought can enter the heart and stir it to its depths, and features thatone may never again behold leave a lifelong memory behind. But even ifa woman of whom I knew absolutely nothing were to appeal to me, exclaiming, 'I implore your help, your protection!' I should, withoutstopping to consider, place my sword and my arm at her disposal, anddevote myself to her service. How much more eagerly would I die for you, madam, whose beauty has ravished my heart! What do you demand of me?Tell me what you desire me to do. "

"Prevent this duel; don't allow an interview to take place between youruncle and the man whom he mentioned. Tell me you will do this, and Ishall be safe; for you have never learned to lie; I know. "

"Of course he hasn't, you may be sure of that, you simpleton!" mutteredMaitre Quennebert in his corner. "If you only knew what a mere noviceyou are at that game compared with the chevalier! If you only knew whomyou had before you!"

"At your age, " went on Angelique, "one cannot feign--the heart is notyet hardened, and is capable of compassion. But a dreadful idea occursto me--a horrible suspicion! Is it all a devilish trick--a snarearranged in joke? Tell me that it is not all a pretence! A poor womanencounters so much perfidy. Men amuse themselves by troubling her heartand confusing her mind; they excite her vanity, they compass her roundwith homage, with flattery, with temptation, and when they grow tiredof fooling her, they despise and insult her. Tell me, was this all apreconcerted plan? This love, this jealousy, were they only acted?"

"Oh, madame, " broke in the chevalier, with an expression of the deepestindignation, "how can you for an instant imagine that a human heartcould be so perverted? I am not acquainted with the man whom thecommander accused you of loving, but whoever he may be I feel sure thathe is worthy of your love, and that he would never have consented tosuch a dastardly joke. Neither would my uncle; his jealousy mastered himand drove him mad--

"But I am not dependent on him; I am my own master, and can do as Iplease. I will hinder this duel; I will not allow the illusion andignorance of him who loves you and, alas that I must say it, whom youlove, to be dispelled, for it is in them he finds his happiness. Be happy with him! As for me, I shall never see you again; but therecollection of this meeting, the joy of having served you, will be myconsolation. "

Angelique raised her beautiful eyes, and gave the chevalier a long lookwhich expressed her gratitude more eloquently than words. 

"May I be hanged!" thought Maitre Quennebert, "if the baggage isn'tmaking eyes at him already! But one who is drowning clutches at astraw. "

"Enough, madam, " said the chevalier; "I understand all you would say. You thank me in his name, and ask me to leave you: I obey-yes, madame, I am going; at the risk of my life I will prevent this meeting, I willstifle this fatal revelation. But grant me one last prayer-permit me tolook forward to seeing you once more before I leave this city, to whichI wish I had never come. But I shall quit it in a day or two, to-morrowperhaps--as soon as I know that your happiness is assured. Oh! do notrefuse my last request; let the light of your eyes shine on me for thelast time; after that I shall depart--I shall fly far away for ever. But if perchance, in spite of every effort, I fail, if the commander'sjealousy should make him impervious to my entreaties--to my tears, ifhe whom you love should come and overwhelm you with reproaches and thenabandon you, would you drive me from your presence if I should then say, 'I love you'? Answer me, I beseech you. "

"Go!" said she, "and prove worthy of my gratitude--or my love. "

Seizing one of her hands, the chevalier covered it with passionatekisses. 

"Such barefaced impudence surpasses everything I could have imagined!"murmured Quennebert: "fortunately, the play is over for to-night; if ithad gone on any longer, I should have done something foolish. The ladyhardly imagines what the end of the comedy will be. "

Neither did Quennebert. It was an evening of adventures. It was writtenthat in the space of two hours Angelique was to run the gamut of all theemotions, experience all the vicissitudes to which a life such as sheled is exposed: hope, fear, happiness, mortification, falsehood, lovethat was no love, intrigue within intrigue, and, to crown all, a totallyunexpected conclusion. 

CHAPTER V

The chevalier was still holding Angelique's hand when a step resoundedoutside, and a voice was heard. 

"Can it be that he has come back?" exclaimed the damsel, hastilyfreeing herself from the passionate embrace of the chevalier. "It's notpossible! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! it's his voice!"

She grew pale to the lips, and stood staring at the door withoutstretched arms, unable to advance or recede. 

The chevalier listened, but felt sure the approaching voice belongedneither to the commander nor to the treasurer. 

"'His voice'?" thought Quennebert to himself. "Can this be yet anotheraspirant to her favour?"

The sound came nearer. 

"Hide yourself!" said Angelique, pointing to a door opposite to thepartition behind which the widow and the notary were ensconced. "Hideyourself there!--there's a secret staircase--you can get out that way. "

"I hide myself!" exclaimed Moranges, with a swaggering air. "What areyou thinking of? I remain. "

It would have been better for him to have followed her advice, as mayvery well have occurred to the youth two minutes later, as a tall, muscular young man entered in a state of intense excitement. Angeliquerushed to meet him, crying--

"Ah! Monsieur le duc, is it you?"

"What is this I hear, Angelique?" said the Duc de Vitry. "I was toldbelow that three men had visited you this evening; but only two havegone out--where is the third? Ha! I do not need long to find him, " headded, as he caught sight of the chevalier, who stood his ground bravelyenough. 

"In Heaven's name!" cried Angelique, --"in Heaven's name, listen to me!"

"No, no, not a word. Just now I am not questioning you. Who are you, sir?"

The chevalier's teasing and bantering disposition made him even at thatcritical moment insensible to fear, so he retorted insolently--

"Whoever I please to be, sir; and on my word I find the tone in whichyou put your question delightfully amusing. "

The duke sprang forward in a rage, laying his hand on his sword. Angelique tried in vain to restrain him. 

"You want to screen him from my vengeance, you false one!" said he, retreating a few steps, so as to guard the door. "Defend your life, sir!"

"Do you defend yours!"

Both drew at the same moment. 

Two shrieks followed, one in the room, the other behind the tapestry, for neither Angelique nor the widow had been able to restrain heralarm as the two swords flashed in air. In fact the latter had been sofrightened that she fell heavily to the floor in a faint. 

This incident probably saved the young man's life; his blood had alreadybegun to run cold at the sight of his adversary foaming with rage andstanding between him and the door, when the noise of the fall distractedthe duke's attention. 

"What was that?" he cried. "Are there other enemies concealed here too?"And forgetting that he was leaving a way of escape free, he rushedin the direction from which the sound came, and lunged at thetapestry-covered partition with his sword. Meantime the chevalier, dropping all his airs of bravado, sprang from one end of the room to theother like a cat pursued by a dog; but rapid as were his movements, theduke perceived his flight, and dashed after him at the risk of breakingboth his own neck and the chevalier's by a chase through unfamiliarrooms and down stairs which were plunged in darkness. 

All this took place in a few seconds, like a flash of lightning. Twice, with hardly any interval, the street door opened and shut noisily, andthe two enemies were in the street, one pursued and the other pursuing. 

"My God! Just to think of all that has happened is enough to make onedie of fright!" said Mademoiselle de Guerchi. "What will come next, I should like to know? And what shall I say to the duke when he comesback?"

Just at this instant a loud cracking sound was heard in the room. Angelique stood still, once more struck with terror, and recollectingthe cry she had heard. Her hair, which was already loosened, escapedentirely from its bonds, and she felt it rise on her head as the figureson the tapestry moved and bent towards her. Falling on her knees andclosing her eyes, she began to invoke the aid of God and all the saints. But she soon felt herself raised by strong arms, and looking round, she found herself in the presence of an unknown man, who seemed to haveissued from the ground or the walls, and who, seizing the only lightleft unextinguished in the scuffle, dragged her more dead than aliveinto the next room. 

This man was, as the reader will have already guessed, MaitreQuennebert. As soon as the chevalier and the duke had disappeared, thenotary had run towards the corner where the widow lay, and havingmade sure that she was really unconscious, and unable to see or hearanything, so that it would be quite safe to tell her any story hepleased next day, he returned to his former position, and applying hisshoulder to the partition, easily succeeded in freeing the ends of therotten laths from the nails which held there, and, pushing them beforehim, made an aperture large enough to allow of his passing through intothe next apartment. He applied himself to this task with such vigour, and became so absorbed in its accomplishment, that he entirely forgotthe bag of twelve hundred livres which the widow had given him. 

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" cried Mademoiselle de Guerchi, struggling to free herself. 

"Silence!" was Quennebert's answer. 

"Don't kill me, for pity's sake!"

"Who wants to kill you? But be silent; I don't want your shrieks to callpeople here. I must be alone with you for a few moments. Once more Itell you to be quiet, unless you want me to use violence. If you do whatI tell you, no harm shall happen to you. "

"But who are you, monsieur?"

"I am neither a burglar nor a murderer; that's all you need to know; therest is no concern of yours. Have you writing materials at hand?"

"Yes, monsieur; there they are, on that table. "

"Very well. Now sit down at the table. "

"Why?"

"Sit down, and answer my questions. "

"The first man who visited you this evening was M. Jeannin, was he not?"

"Yes, M. Jeannin de Castille. "

"The king's treasurer?"

"Yes. "

"All right. The second was Commander de Jars, and the young man hebrought with him was his nephew, the Chevalier de Moranges. The lastcomer was a duke; am I not right?"

"The Duc de Vitry. "

"Now write from my dictation. "

He spoke very slowly, and Mademoiselle de Guerchi, obeying his commands, took up her pen. 

"'To-day, '" dictated Quennebert, --"'to-day, this twentieth day of themonth of November, in the year of the Lord 1658, I--

"What is your full name?"

"Angelique-Louise de Guerchi. "

"Go on! 'I, Angelique-Louise de Guerchi, was visited, in the roomswhich--I occupy, in the mansion of the Duchesse d'Etampes, corner of thestreets Git-le-Coeur and du Hurepoix, about half-past seven o'clock inthe evening, in the first place, by Messire Jeannin de Castille, King's Treasurer; in the second place, by Commander de Jars, who wasaccompanied by a young man, his nephew, the Chevalier de Moranges; inthe third place, after the departure of Commander de Jars, and while Iwas alone with the Chevalier de Moranges, by the Duc de Vitry, who drewhis sword upon the said chevalier and forced him to take flight. '

"Now put in a line by itself, and use capitals 'DESCRIPTION OF THECHEVALIER DE MORANGES'. "

"But I only saw him for an instant, " said Angelique, "and I can'trecall----

"Write, and don't talk. I can recall everything, and that is all that iswanted. "

"'Height about five feet. ' The chevalier, " said Quennebert, interruptinghimself, "is four feet eleven inches three lines and a half, but I don'tneed absolute exactness. " Angelique gazed at him in utter stupefaction. 

"Do you know him, then?" she asked. 

"I saw him this evening for the first time, but my eye is very accurate. 

"'Height about five feet; hair black, eyes ditto, nose aquiline, mouthlarge, lips compressed, forehead high, face oval, complexion pale, nobeard. '

"Now another line, and in capitals: "'SPECIAL MARKS. '

"'A small mole on the neck behind the right ear, a smaller mole on theleft hand. '

"Have you written that? Now sign it with your full name. "

"What use are you going to make of this paper?"

"I should have told you before, if I had desired you to know. Anyquestions are quite useless. I don't enjoin secrecy on you, however, "added the notary, as he folded the paper and put it into his doubletpocket. "You are quite free to tell anyone you like that you havewritten the description of the Chevalier de Moranges at the dictationof an unknown man, who got into your room you don't know how, by thechimney or through the ceiling perhaps, but who was determined to leaveit by a more convenient road. Is there not a secret staircase? Show mewhere it is. I don't want to meet anyone on my way out. "

Angelique pointed out a door to him hidden by a damask curtain, andQuennebert saluting her, opened it and disappeared, leaving Angeliqueconvinced that she had seen the devil in person. Not until the next daydid the sight of the displaced partition explain the apparition, buteven then so great was her fright, so deep was the terror which therecollection of the mysterious man inspired, that despite the permissionto tell what had happened she mentioned her adventure to no one, anddid not even complain to her neighbour, Madame Rapally, of theinquisitiveness which had led the widow to spy on her actions. 

CHAPTER VI

We left de Jars and Jeannin, roaring with laughter, in the tavern in therue Saint Andre-des-Arts. 

"What!" said the treasurer, "do you really think that Angelique thoughtI was in earnest in my offer?--that she believes in all good faith Iintend to marry her?"

"You may take my word for it. If it were not so, do you imagine shewould have been in such desperation? Would she have fainted at my threatto tell you that I had claims on her as well as you? To get married!Why, that is the goal of all such creatures, and there is not one ofthem who can understand why a man of honour should blush to give her hisname. If you had only seen her terror, her tears! They would have eitherbroken your heart or killed you with laughter. "

"Well, " said Jeannin, "it is getting late. Are we going to wait for thechevalier?"

"Let us call, for him. "

"Very well. Perhaps he has made up his mind to stay. If so, we shallmake a horrible scene, cry treachery and perjury, and trounce yournephew well. Let's settle our score and be off. "

They left the wine-shop, both rather the worse for the wine they hadso largely indulged in. They felt the need of the cool night air, soinstead of going down the rue Pavee they resolved to follow the rueSaint-Andre-des-Arts as far as the Pont Saint-Michel, so as to reach themansion by a longer route. 

At the very moment the commander got up to leave the tavern thechevalier had run out of the mansion at the top of his speed. It was notthat he had entirely lost his courage, for had he found it impossibleto avoid his assailant it is probable that he would have regained theaudacity which had led him to draw his sword. But he was a novice in theuse of arms, had not reached full physical development, and felt thatthe chances were so much against him that he would only have faced theencounter if there were no possible way of escape. On leaving the househe had turned quickly into the rue Git-le-Coeur; but on hearing the doorclose behind his pursuer he disappeared down the narrow and crooked ruede l'Hirondelle, hoping to throw the Duc de Vitry off the scent. Theduke, however, though for a moment in doubt, was guided by the sound ofthe flying footsteps. The chevalier, still trying to send him off on afalse trail, turned to the right, and so regained the upper end of therue Saint-Andre, and ran along it as far as the church, the site ofwhich is occupied by the square of the same name to-day. Here he thoughthe would be safe, for, as the church was being restored and enlarged, heaps of stone stood all round the old pile. He glided in among these, and twice heard Vitry searching quite close to him, and each time stoodon guard expecting an onslaught. This marching and counter-marchinglasted for some minutes; the chevalier began to hope he had escaped thedanger, and eagerly waited for the moment when the moon which had brokenthrough the clouds should again withdraw behind them, in order to stealinto some of the adjacent streets under cover of the darkness. Suddenlya shadow rose before him and a threatening voice cried--

"Have I caught you at last, you coward?"

The danger in which the chevalier stood awoke in him a flickeringenergy, a feverish courage, and he crossed blades with his assailant. A strange combat ensued, of which the result was quite uncertain, depending entirely on chance; for no science was of any avail on aground so rough that the combatants stumbled at every step, or struckagainst immovable masses, which were one moment clearly lit up, andthe next in shadow. Steel clashed on steel, the feet of the adversariestouched each other, several times the cloak of one was pierced by thesword of the other, more than once the words "Die then!" rang out. Buteach time the seemingly vanquished combatant sprang up unwounded, asagile and as lithe and as quick as ever, while he in his turn pressedthe enemy home. There was neither truce nor pause, no clever feintsnor fencer's tricks could be employed on either side; it was a mortalcombat, but chance, not skill, would deal the death-blow. Sometimes arapid pass encountered only empty air; sometimes blade crossed bladeabove the wielders' heads; sometimes the fencers lunged at each other'sbreast, and yet the blows glanced aside at the last moment and theblades met in air once more. At last, however, one of the two, makinga pass to the right which left his breast unguarded, received a deepwound. Uttering a loud cry, he recoiled a step or two, but, exhausted bythe effort, tripped and fell backward over a large stone, and lay theremotionless, his arms extended in the form of a cross. 

The other turned and fled. 

"Hark, de Jars!" said Jeannin, stopping, "There's fighting going onhereabouts; I hear the clash of swords. "

Both listened intently. 

"I hear nothing now. "

"Hush! there it goes again. It's by the church. "

"What a dreadful cry!"

They ran at full speed towards the place whence it seemed to come, but found only solitude, darkness, and silence. They looked in everydirection. 

"I can't see a living soul, " said Jeannin, "and I very much fear thatthe poor devil who gave that yell has mumbled his last prayer. "

"I don't know why I tremble so, " replied de Jars; "that heart-rendingcry made me shiver from head to foot. Was it not something like thechevalier's voice?"

"The chevalier is with La Guerchi, and even if he had left her thiswould not have been his way to rejoin us. Let us go on and leave thedead in peace. "

"Look, Jeannin! what is that in front of us?"

"On that stone? A man who has fallen!"

"Yes, and bathed in blood, " exclaimed de Jars, who had darted to hisside. "Ah! it's he! it's he! Look, his eyes are closed, his hands cold!My child he does not hear me! Oh, who has murdered him?"

He fell on his knees, and threw himself on the body with every mark ofthe most violent despair. 

"Come, come, " said Jeannin, surprised at such an explosion of grief froma man accustomed to duels, and who on several similar occasions had beenfar from displaying much tenderness of heart, "collect yourself, anddon't give way like a woman. Perhaps the wound is not mortal. Let us tryto stop the bleeding and call for help. "

"No, no--"

"Are you mad?"

"Don't call, for Heaven's sake! The wound is here, near the heart. Yourhandkerchief, Jeannin, to arrest the flow of blood. There--now help meto lift him. "

"What does that mean?" cried Jeannin, who had just laid his hand on thechevalier. "I don't know whether I'm awake or asleep! Why, it's a---"

"Be silent, on your life! I shall explain everything--but now be silent;there is someone looking at us. "

There was indeed a man wrapped in a mantle standing motionless somesteps away. 

"What are you doing here?" asked de Jars. 

"May I ask what you are doing, gentlemen?" retorted Maitre Quennebert, in a calm and steady voice. 

"Your curiosity may cost you dear, monsieur; we are not in the habit ofallowing our actions to be spied on. "

"And I am not in the habit of running useless risks, most noblecavaliers. You are, it is true, two against one; but, " he added, throwing back his cloak and grasping the hilts of a pair of pistolstucked in his belt, "these will make us equal. You are mistaken as tomy intentions. I had no thought of playing the spy; it was chance alonethat led me here; and you must acknowledge that finding you in thislonely spot, engaged as you are at this hour of the night, was quiteenough to awake the curiosity of a man as little disposed to provoke aquarrel as to submit to threats. "

"It was chance also that brought us here. We were crossing the square, my friend and I, when we heard groans. We followed the sound, and foundthis young gallant, who is a stranger to us, lying here, with a wound inhis breast. "

As the moon at that moment gleamed doubtfully forth, Maitre Quennebertbent for an instant over the body of the wounded man, and said:

"I know him more than you. But supposing someone were to come uponus here, we might easily be taken for three assassins holding aconsultation over the corpse of our victim. What were you going to do?"

"Take him to a doctor. It would be inhuman to leave him here, and whilewe are talking precious time is being lost. "

"Do you belong to this neighbourhood?"

"No, " said the treasurer. 

"Neither do I, " said Quennebert, "but I believe I have heard the name ofa surgeon who lives close by, in the rue Hauteville. "

"I also know of one, " interposed de Jars, "a very skilful man. "

"You may command me. "

"Gladly, monsieur; for he lives some distance from here. "

"I am at your service. "

De Jars and Jeannin raised the chevalier's shoulders, and the strangersupported his legs, and carrying their burden in this order, they setoff. 

They walked slowly, looking about them carefully, a precaution renderednecessary by the fact that the moon now rode in a cloudless sky. Theyglided over the Pont Saint-Michel between the houses that lined bothsides, and, turning to the right, entered one of the narrow streets ofthe Cite, and after many turnings, during which they met no one, theystopped at the door of a house situated behind the Hotel-de-Ville. 

"Many thanks, monsieur, " said de Jars, --"many thanks; we need no furtherhelp. "

As the commander spoke, Maitre Quennebert let the feet of the chevalierfall abruptly on the pavement, while de Jars and the treasurer stillsupported his body, and, stepping back two paces, he drew his pistolsfrom his belt, and placing a finger on each trigger, said--

"Do not stir, messieurs, or you are dead men. " Both, although encumberedby their burden, laid their hands upon their swords. 

"Not a movement, not a sound, or I shoot. "

There was no reply to this argument, it being a convincing one even fortwo duellists. The bravest man turns pale when he finds himself face toface with sudden inevitable death, and he who threatened seemed to beone who would, without hesitation, carry out his threats. There wasnothing for it but obedience, or a ball through them as they stood. 

"What do you want with us, sir?" asked Jeannin. 

Quennebert, without changing his attitude, replied--

"Commander de Jars, and you, Messire Jeannin de Castille, king'streasurer, --you see, my gentles, that besides the advantage of armswhich strike swiftly and surely, I have the further advantage of knowingwho you are, whilst I am myself unknown, --you will carry the wounded maninto this house, into which I will not enter, for I have nothing to dowithin; but I shall remain here; to await your return. After you havehanded over the patient to the doctor, you will procure paper andwrite---now pay great attention--that on November 20th, 1658, aboutmidnight, you, aided by an unknown man, carried to this house, theaddress of which you will give, a young man whom you call the Chevalierde Moranges, and pass off as your nephew--"

"As he really is. "

"Very well. "

"But who told you--?"

"Let me go on: who had been wounded in a fight with swords on the samenight behind the church of Saint-Andre-des-Arts by the Duc de Vitry. "

"The Duc de Vitry!--How do you know that?"

"No matter how, I know it for a fact. Having made this declaration, you will add that the said Chevalier de Moranges is no other thanJosephine-Charlotte Boullenois, whom you, commander, abducted fourmonths ago from the convent of La Raquette, whom you have made yourmistress, and whom you conceal disguised as a man; then you will addyour signature. Is my information correct?"

De Jars and Jeannin were speechless with surprise for a few instants;then the former stammered--

"Will you tell us who you are?"

"The devil in person, if you like. Well, will you do as I order?Supposing that I am awkward enough not to kill you at two paces, do youwant me to ask you in broad daylight and aloud what I now ask atnight and in a whisper? And don't think to put me off with a falsedeclaration, relying on my not being able to read it by the light of themoon; don't think either that you can take me by surprise when you handit me: you will bring it to me with your swords sheathed as now. Ifthis condition is not observed, I shall fire, and the noise will bring acrowd about us. To-morrow I shall speak differently from to-day: I shallproclaim the truth at all the street corners, in the squares, and underthe windows of the Louvre. It is hard, I know, for men of spirit toyield to threats, but recollect that you are in my power and that thereis no disgrace in paying a ransom for a life that one cannot defend. What do you say?"

In spite of his natural courage, Jeannin, who found himself involvedin an affair from which he had nothing to gain, and who was not at alldesirous of being suspected of having helped in an abduction, whisperedto the commander--

"Faith! I think our wisest course is to consent. "

De Jars, however, before replying, wished to try if he could by anychance throw his enemy off his guard for an instant, so as to take himunawares. His hand still rested on the hilt of his sword, motionless, but ready to draw. 

"There is someone coming over yonder, " he cried, --"do you hear?"

"You can't catch me in that way, " said Quennebert. "Even were thereanyone coming, I should not look round, and if you move your hand all isover with you. "

"Well, " said Jeannin, "I surrender at discretion--not on my own account, but out of regard for my friend and this woman. However, we are entitleto some pledge of your silence. This statement that you demand, oncewritten, --you can ruin us tomorrow by its means. "

"I don't yet know what use I shall make of it, gentlemen. Make upyour minds, or you will have nothing but a dead body to place--in thedoctor's hands. There is no escape for you. "

For the first time the wounded man faintly groaned. 

"I must save her!" cried de Jars, --"I yield. "

"And I swear upon my honour that I will never try to get this womanout of your hands, and that I will never interfere with your conquest. Knock, gentlemen, and remain as long as may be necessary. I am patient. Pray to God, if you will, that she may recover; my one desire is thatshe may die. "

They entered the house, and Quennebert, wrapping himself once more inhis mantle, walked up and down before it, stopping to listen from timeto time. In about two hours the commander and the treasurer came outagain, and handed him a written paper in the manner agreed on. 

"I greatly fear that it will be a certificate of death, " said de Jars. 

"Heaven grant it, commander! Adieu, messieurs. "

He then withdrew, walking backwards, keeping the two friends coveredwith his pistols until he had placed a sufficient distance betweenhimself and them to be out of danger of an attack. 

The two gentlemen on their part walked rapidly away, looking round fromtime to time, and keeping their ears open. They were very much mortifiedat having been forced to let a mere boor dictate to them, and anxious, especially de Jars, as to the result of the wound. 

CHAPTER VII

On the day following this extraordinary series of adventures, explanations between those who were mixed up in them, whether asactors or spectators, were the order of the day. It was not till MaitreQuennebert reached the house of the friend who had offered to put him upfor the night that it first dawned on him, that the interest which theChevalier de Moranges had awakened in his mind had made him utterlyforget the bag containing the twelve hundred livres which he owed to thegenerosity of the widow. This money being necessary to him, he wentback to her early next morning. He found her hardly recovered fromher terrible fright. Her swoon had lasted far beyond the time when thenotary had left the house; and as Angelique, not daring to enter thebewitched room, had taken refuge in the most distant corner of herapartments, the feeble call of the widow was heard by no one. Receivingno answer, Madame Rapally groped her way into the next room, and findingthat empty, buried herself beneath the bedclothes, and passed the restof the night dreaming of drawn swords, duels, and murders. As soon asit was light she ventured into the mysterious room once more; withoutcalling her servants, and found the bag of crowns lying open on thefloor, with the coins scattered all around, the partition broken, andthe tapestry hanging from it in shreds. The widow was near faintingagain: she imagined at first she saw stains of blood everywhere, but acloser inspection having somewhat reassured her, she began to pick upthe coins that had rolled to right and left, and was agreeably surprisedto find the tale complete. But how and why had Maitre Quennebertabandoned them? What had become of him? She had got lost in themost absurd suppositions and conjectures when the notary appeared. Discovering from the first words she uttered that she was in completeignorance of all that had taken place, he explained to her that when theinterview between the chevalier and Mademoiselle de Guerchi had just atthe most interesting moment been so unceremoniously interrupted by thearrival of the duke, he had become so absorbed in watching them that hehad not noticed that the partition was bending before the pressure ofhis body, and that just as the duke drew his sword it suddenly gaveway, and he, Quennebert, being thus left without support, tumbledhead foremost into the next room, among a perfect chaos of overturnedfurniture and lamps; that almost before he could rise he was forcedto draw in self-defence, and had to make his escape, defending himselfagainst both the duke and the chevalier; that they had pursued him sohotly, that when he found himself free he was too far from the house andthe hour was too advanced to admit of his returning, Quennebert addedinnumerable protestations of friendship, devotion, and gratitude, and, furnished with his twelve hundred crowns, went away, leaving the widowreassured as to his safety, but still shaken from her fright. 

While the notary was thus soothing the widow, Angelique was exhaustingall the expedients her trade had taught her in the attempt to removethe duke's suspicions. She asserted she was the victim of an unforeseenattack which nothing in her conduct had ever authorised. The youngChevalier de Moranges had, gained admittance, she declared, under thepretext that he brought her news from the duke, the one man who occupiedher thoughts, the sole object of her love. The chevalier had seen herlover, he said, a few days before, and by cleverly appealing to thingsback, he had led her to fear that the duke had grown tired of her, andthat a new conquest was the cause of his absence. She had not believedthese insinuations, although his long silence would have justifiedthe most mortifying suppositions, the most cruel doubts. At lengththe chevalier had grown bolder, and had declared his passion for her;whereupon she had risen and ordered him to leave her. Just at thatmoment the duke had entered, and had taken the natural agitation andconfusion of the chevalier as signs of her guilt. Some explanation wasalso necessary to account for the presence of the two other visitorsof whom he had been told below stairs. As he knew nothing at all aboutthem, the servant who admitted them never having seen either of thembefore, she acknowledged that two gentlemen had called earlier in theevening; that they had refused to send in their names, but as they hadsaid they had come to inquire about the duke, she suspected them ofhaving been in league with the chevalier in the attempt to ruin herreputation, perhaps they had even promised to help him to carry heroff, but she knew nothing positive about them or their plans. The duke, contrary to his wont, did not allow himself to be easily convinced bythese lame explanations, but unfortunately for him the lady knew how toassume an attitude favourable to her purpose. She had been induced, shesaid, with the simple confidence born of love, to listen to people whohad led her to suppose they could give her news of one so dear to heras the duke. From this falsehood she proceeded to bitter reproaches:instead of defending herself, she accused him of having left her aprey to anxiety; she went so far as to imply that there must be somefoundation for the hints of the chevalier, until at last the duke, although he was not guilty of the slightest infidelity, and hadexcellent reasons to give in justification of his silence, was soonreduced to a penitent mood, and changed his threats into entreaties forforgiveness. As to the shriek he had heard, and which he was sure hadbeen uttered by the stranger who had forced his way into her roomafter the departure of the others, she asserted that his ears must havedeceived him. Feeling that therein lay her best chance of making thingssmooth, she exerted herself to convince him that there was no need forother information than she could give, and did all she could to blot thewhole affair from his memory; and her success was such that at the endof the interview the duke was more enamoured and more credulous thanever, and believing he had done her wrong, he delivered himself up toher, bound hand and foot. Two days later he installed his mistress inanother dwelling. . . . 

Madame Rapally also resolved to give up her rooms, and removed to ahouse that belonged to her, on the Pont Saint-Michel. 

The commander took the condition of Charlotte Boullenois very much toheart. The physician under whose care he had placed her, after examiningher wounds, had not given much hope of her recovery. It was not thatde Jars was capable of a lasting love, but Charlotte was young andpossessed great beauty, and the romance and mystery surrounding theirconnection gave it piquancy. Charlotte's disguise, too, which enabled deJars to conceal his success and yet flaunt it in the face, as it were, of public morality and curiosity, charmed him by its audacity, and aboveall he was carried away by the bold and uncommon character of the girl, who, not content with a prosaic intrigue, had trampled underfoot allsocial prejudices and proprieties, and plunged at once into unmeasuredand unrestrained dissipation; the singular mingling in her nature ofthe vices of both sexes; the unbridled licentiousness of the courtesancoupled with the devotion of a man for horses, wine, and fencing;in short, her eccentric character, as it would now be called, kepta passion alive which would else have quickly died away in his blaseheart. Nothing would induce him to follow Jeannin's advice to leaveParis for at least a few weeks, although he shared Jeannin's fear thatthe statement they had been forced to give the stranger would bring theminto trouble. The treasurer, who had no love affair on hand, went off;but the commander bravely held his ground, and at the end of five or sixdays, during which no one disturbed him, began to think the only resultof the incident would be the anxiety it had caused him. 

Every evening as soon as it was dark he betook himself to the doctor's, wrapped in his cloak, armed to the teeth, and his hat pulled down overhis eyes. For two days and nights, Charlotte, whom to avoid confusion weshall continue to call the Chevalier de Moranges, hovered between lifeand death. Her youth and the strength of her constitution enabled her atlast to overcome the fever, in spite of the want of skill of the surgeonPerregaud. 

Although de Jars was the only person who visited the chevalier, he wasnot the only one who was anxious about the patient's health. MaitreQuennebert, or men engaged by him to watch, for he did not want toattract attention, were always prowling about the neighbourhood, so thathe was kept well informed of everything that went on: The instructionshe gave to these agents were, that if a funeral should leave the house, they were to find out the name of the deceased, and then to let him knowwithout delay. But all these precautions seemed quite useless: he alwaysreceived the same answer to all his questions, "We know nothing. " So atlast he determined to address himself directly to the man who could givehim information on which he could rely. 

One night the commander left the surgeon's feeling more cheerful thanusual, for the chevalier had passed a good day, and there was every hopethat he was on the road to complete recovery. Hardly had de Jars gonetwenty paces when someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned and sawa man whom, in the darkness, he did not recognise. 

"Excuse me for detaining you, Commander de Jars, " said Quennebert, "butI have a word to say to you. "

"Ali! so it's you, sir, " replied the commander. "Are you going at lastto give me the opportunity I was so anxious for?"

"I don't understand. "

"We are on more equal terms this time; to-day you don't catch meunprepared, almost without weapons, and if you are a man of honour youwill measure swords with me. "

"Fight a duel with you! why, may I ask? You have never insulted me. "

"A truce to pleasantry, sir; don't make me regret that I have shownmyself more generous than you. I might have killed you just now had Iwished. I could have put my pistol to your breast and fired, or said toyou, 'Surrender at discretion!' as you so lately said to me. "

"And what use would that have been?"

"It would have made a secret safe that you ought never to have known. "

"It would have been the most unfortunate thing for you that could havehappened, for if you had killed me the paper would have spoken. So! youthink that if you were to assassinate me you would only have tostoop over my dead body and search my pockets, and, having found theincriminating document, destroy it. You seem to have formed no very highopinion of my intelligence and common sense. You of the upper classesdon't need these qualities, the law is on, your side. But when a humbleindividual like myself, a mere nobody, undertakes to investigate apiece of business about which those in authority are not anxious to beenlightened, precautions are necessary. It's not enough for him to haveright on his side, he must, in order to secure his own safety, make gooduse of his skill, courage, and knowledge. I have no desire to humiliateyou a second time, so I will say no more. The paper is in the handsof my notary, and if a single day passes without his seeing me he hasorders to break the seal and make the contents public. So you see chanceis still on my side. But now that you are warned there is no need for meto bluster. I am quite prepared to acknowledge your superior rank, andif you insist upon it, to speak to you uncovered. "

"What do you desire to know, sir?"

"How is the Chevalier de Moranges getting on?"

"Very badly, very badly. "

"Take care, commander; don't deceive me. One is so easily tempted tobelieve what one hopes, and I hope so strongly that I dare not believewhat you say. I saw you coming out of the house, not at all with the airof a man who had just heard bad news, (quite the contrary) you lookedat the sky, and rubbed your hands, and walked with a light, quick step, that did not speak of grief. "

"You're a sharp observer, sir. "

"I have already explained to you, sir, that when one of us belongingto a class hardly better than serfs succeeds by chance or force ofcharacter in getting out of the narrow bounds in which he was born, hemust keep both eyes and ears open. If I had doubted your word as youhave doubted mine on the merest suspicion, you would have said to yourservants, 'Chastise this rascal. ' But I am obliged to prove to you thatyou did not tell me the truth. Now I am sure that the chevalier is outof danger. "

"If you were so well informed why did you ask me?"

"I only knew it by your asserting the contrary. "

"What do you mean?" cried de Jars, who was growing restive under thiscold, satirical politeness. 

"Do me justice, commander. The bit chafes, but yet you must acknowledgethat I have a light hand. For a full week you have been in my power. Have I disturbed your quiet? Have I betrayed your secret? You know Ihave not. And I shall continue to act in the same manner. I hope withall my heart, however great would be your grief; that the chevalier maydie of his wound. I have not the same reasons for loving him that youhave, so much you can readily understand, even if I do not explain thecause of my interest in his fate. But in such a matter hopes count fornothing; they cannot make his temperature either rise or fall. I havetold you I have no wish to force the chevalier to resume his real name. I may make use of the document and I may not, but if I am obliged to useit I shall give you warning. Will you, in return, swear to me upon yourhonour that you will keep me informed as to the fate of the chevalier, whether you remain in Paris or whether you leave? But let thisagreement be a secret between us, and do not mention it to the so-calledMoranges. "

"I have your oath, monsieur, that you will give me notice before youuse the document I have given you against me, have I? But what guaranteehave I that you will keep your word?"

"My course of action till to-day, and the fact that I have pledged youmy word of my own free will. "

"I see, you hope not to have long to wait for the end. "

"I hope not; but meantime a premature disclosure would do me as muchharm as you. I have not the slightest rancour against you, commander;you have robbed me of no treasure; I have therefore no compensation todemand. What you place such value on would be only a burden to me, asit will be to you later on. All I want is, to know as soon as it is nolonger in your possession, whether it has been removed by the will ofGod or by your own, I am right in thinking that to-day there is somehope of the chevalier's recovery, am I not?"

"Yes, Sir, "

"Do you give me your promise that if ever he leave this house safe andsound you will let me know?"

"I give you my promise, "

"And if the result should be different, you will also send me word?"

"Certainly. But to whom shall I address my message?"

"I should have thought that since our first meeting you would have foundout all about me, and that to tell you my name would be superfluous. ButI have no reason to hide it: Maitre Quennebert, notary, Saint-Denis. Iwill not detain you any longer now, commander; excuse a simple citizenfor dictating conditions to a noble such as you. For once chance hasbeen on my side although a score of times it has gone against me. "

De Jars made no reply except a nod, and walked away quickly, mutteringwords of suppressed anger between his teeth at all the--humiliations towhich he had been obliged to submit so meekly. 

"He's as insolent as a varlet who has no fear of a larruping before hiseyes: how the rapscallion gloried in taking advantage of his position!Taking-off his hat while putting his foot on my neck! If ever I can beeven with you, my worthy scrivener, you'll pass a very bad quarter of anhour, I can tell you. "

Everyone has his own idea of what constitutes perfect honour. De Jars, for instance, would have allowed himself to be cut up into little piecesrather than have broken the promise he had given Quennebert a weekago, because it was given in exchange for his life, and the slightestpaltering with his word under those circumstances would have beendastardly. But the engagement into which he had just entered had in hiseyes no such moral sanction; he had not been forced into it by threats, he had escaped by its means no serious danger, and therefore in regardto it his conscience was much more accommodating. What he should besthave liked to do, would have been to have sought out the notary andprovoked him by insults to send him a challenge. 

That a clown such as that could have any chance of leaving the groundalive never entered his head. But willingly as he would have encompassedhis death in this manner, the knowledge that his secret would not diewith Quennebert restrained him, for when everything came out he feltthat the notary's death would be regarded as an aggravation of hisoriginal offence, and in spite of his rank he was not at all certainthat if he were put on his trial even now he would escape scot free, much less if a new offence were added to the indictment. So, howevermuch he might chafe against the bit, he felt he must submit to thebridle. 

"By God!" said he, "I know what the clodhopper is after; and even if Imust suffer in consequence, I shall take good care that he cannot shakeoff his bonds. Wait a bit! I can play the detective too, and be down onhim without letting him see the hand that deals the blows. It'll be awonder if I can't find a naked sword to suspend above his head. "

However, while thus brooding over projects of vengeance, Commander deJars kept his word, and about a month after the interview above relatedhe sent word to Quennebert that the Chevalier de Moranges had leftPerregaud's completely recovered from his wound. But the nearlyfatal result of the chevalier's last prank seemed to have subduedhis adventurous spirit; he was no longer seen in public, and was soonforgotten by all his acquaintances with the exception of Mademoiselle deGuerchi. She faithfully treasured up the memory of his words of passion, his looks of love, the warmth of his caresses, although at first shestruggled hard to chase his image from her heart. But as the Due deVitry assured her that he had killed him on the spot, she considered itno breach of faith to think lovingly of the dead, and while she tookthe goods so bounteously provided by her living lover, her gentlestthoughts, her most enduring regrets, were given to one whom she neverhoped to see again. 

CHAPTER VIII

With the reader's permission, we must now jump over an interval ofrather more than a year, and bring upon the stage a person who, thoughonly of secondary importance, can no longer be left behind the scenes. 

We have already said that the loves of Quennebert and Madame Rapallywere regarded with a jealous eye by a distant cousin of the lady's latehusband. The love of this rejected suitor, whose name was Trumeau, wasno more sincere than the notary's, nor were his motives more honourable. Although his personal appearance was not such as to lead him to expectthat his path would be strewn with conquests, he considered that hischarms at least equalled those of his defunct relative; and it may besaid that in thus estimating them he did not lay himself--open to thecharge of overweening vanity. But however persistently he preened himself before the widow, she vouchsafed him not one glance. Her heart wasfilled with the love of his rival, and it is no easy thing to teara rooted passion out of a widow's heart when that widow's age isforty-six, and she is silly enough to believe that the admiration shefeels is equalled by the admiration she inspires, as the unfortunateTrumeau found to his cost. All his carefully prepared declarationsof love, all his skilful insinuations against Quennebert, broughthim nothing but scornful rebuffs. But Trumeau was nothing if notpersevering, and he could not habituate himself to the idea of seeingthe widow's fortune pass into other hands than his own, so that everybaffled move only increased his determination to spoil his competitor'sgame. He was always on the watch for a chance to carry tales to thewidow, and so absorbed did he become in this fruitless pursuit, that hegrew yellower and more dried up from day to day, and to his jaundicedeye the man who was at first simply his rival became his mortal enemyand the object of his implacable hate, so that at length merely to getthe better of him, to outwit him, would, after so long-continued andobstinate a struggle and so many defeats, have seemed to him too mild avengeance, too incomplete a victory. 

Quennebert was well aware of the zeal with which the indefatigableTrumeau sought to injure him. But he regarded the manoeuvres of hisrival with supreme unconcern, for he knew that he could at any timesweep away the network of cunning machinations, underhand insinuations, and malicious hints, which was spread around him, by allowing the widowto confer on him the advantages she was so anxious to bestow. The goal, he knew, was within his reach, but the problem he had to solve was howto linger on the way thither, how to defer the triumphal moment, how tokeep hope alive in the fair one's breast and yet delay its fruition. His affairs were in a bad way. Day by day full possession of thefortune thus dangled before his eyes, and fragments of which came to himoccasionally by way of loan, was becoming more and more indispensable, and tantalising though it was, yet he dared not put out his hand toseize it. His creditors dunned him relentlessly: one final reprievehad been granted him, but that at an end, if he could not meet theirdemands, it was all up with his career and reputation. 

One morning in the beginning of February 1660, Trumeau called to see hiscousin. He had not been there for nearly a month, and Quennebert and thewidow had begun to think that, hopeless of success, he had retired fromthe contest. But, far from that, his hatred had grown more intense thanever, and having come upon the traces of an event in the past life ofhis rival which if proved would be the ruin of that rival's hopes, heset himself to gather evidence. He now made his appearance with beaminglooks, which expressed a joy too great for words. He held in one hand asmall scroll tied with a ribbon. He found the widow alone, sitting in alarge easy-chair before the fire. She was reading for the twentieth timea letter which Quenriebert had written her the evening before. To judgeby the happy and contented expression of the widow's face, it must havebeen couched in glowing terms. Trumeau guessed at once from whom themissive came, but the sight of it, instead of irritating him, calledforth a smile. 

"Ah! so it's you, cousin?" said the widow, folding the precious paperand slipping it into the bosom of her dress. "How do you do? It's along time since I saw you, more than a fortnight, I think. Have you beenill?"

"So you remarked my absence! That is very flattering, my dear cousin;you do not often spoil me by such attentions. No, I have not been ill, thank God, but I thought it better not to intrude upon you so often. Afriendly call now and then such as to-day's is what you like, is it not?By the way, tell me about your handsome suitor, Maitre Quennebert; howis he getting along?"

"You look very knowing, Trumeau: have you heard of anything happening tohim?"

"No, and I should be exceedingly sorry to hear that anything unpleasanthad happened to him. "

"Now you are not saying what you think, you know you can't bear him. "

"Well, to speak the truth, I have no great reason to like him. If itwere not for him, I should perhaps have been happy to-day; my love mighthave moved your heart. However, I have become resigned to my loss, andsince your choice has fallen on him, "--and here he sighed, --"well, all Ican say is, I hope you may never regret it. "

"Many thanks for your goodwill, cousin; I am delighted to find you insuch a benevolent mood. You must not be vexed because I could not giveyou the kind of love you wanted; the heart, you know, is not amenable toreason. "

"There is only one thing I should like to ask. "

"What is it?"

"I mention it for your good more than for my own. If you want to behappy, don't let this handsome quill-driver get you entirely into hishands. You are saying to yourself that because of my ill-success withyou I am trying to injure him; but what if I could prove that he doesnot love you as much as he pretends--?"

"Come, come, control your naughty tongue! Are you going to beginbackbiting again? You are playing a mean part, Trumeau. I have neverhinted to Maitre Quennebert all the nasty little ways in which you havetried to put a spoke in his wheel, for if he knew he would ask you toprove your words, and then you would look very foolish. ". 

"Not at all, I swear to you. On the contrary, if I were to tell all Iknow in his presence, it is not I who would be disconcerted. Oh! I amweary of meeting with nothing from you but snubs, scorn, and abuse. Youthink me a slanderer when I say, 'This gallant wooer of widows doesnot love you for yourself but for your money-bags. He fools you by finepromises, but as to marrying you--never, never!'"

"May I ask you to repeat that?" broke in Madame Rapally, "Oh! I know what I am saying. You will never be Madame Quennebert. "

"Really?"

"Really. "

"Jealousy has eaten away whatever brains you used to possess, Trumeau. Since I saw you last, cousin, important changes have taken place: I wasjust going to send you to-day an invitation to my wedding. "

"To your wedding?"

"Yes; I am to be married to-morrow. "

"To-morrow? To Quennebert?" stammered Trumeau. 

"To Quennebert, " repeated the widow in a tone of triumph. 

"It's not possible!" exclaimed Trumeau. 

"It is so possible that you will see us united tomorrow. And for thefuture I must beg of you to regard Quennebert no longer as a rival butas my husband, whom to offend will be to offend me. "

The tone in which these words were spoken no longer left room for doubtas to the truth of the news. Trumeau looked down for a few moments, asif reflecting deeply before definitely making up his mind. He twistedthe little roll of papers between his fingers, and seemed to be in doubtwhether to open it and give it to Madame Rapally to read or not. In theend, however, he put it in his pocket, rose, and approaching his cousin, said--

"I beg your pardon, this news completely changes my opinion. From themoment Maitre Quennebert becomes your husband I shall not have a word tosay against him. My suspicions were unjust, I confess it frankly, andI hope that in consideration of the motives which prompted me you willforget the warmth of my attacks. I shall make no protestations, butshall let the future show how sincere is my devotion to your interests. "

Madame Rapally was too happy, too certain of being loved, not to pardoneasily. With the self-complacency and factitious generosity of a womanwho feels herself the object of two violent passions, she was so good asto feel pity for the lover who was left out in the cold, and offered himher hand. Trumeau kissed it with every outward mark of respect, whilehis lips curled unseen in a smite of mockery. The cousins parted, apparently the best of friends, and on the understanding that Trumeauwould be present at the nuptial benediction, which was to be given in achurch beyond the town hall, near the house in which the newly-marriedcouple were to live; the house on the Pont Saint-Michel having latelybeen sold to great advantage. 

"On my word, " said Trumeau, as he went off, "it would have been a greatmistake to have spoken. I have got that wretch of a Quennebert into myclutches at last; and there is nobody but himself to blame. He is takingthe plunge of his own free will, there is no need for me to shove himoff the precipice. "

The ceremony took place next day. Quennebert conducted his interestingbride to the altar, she hung with ornaments like the shrine of asaint, and, beaming all over with smiles, looked so ridiculous that thehandsome bridegroom reddened to the roots of his hair with shame. Justas they entered the church, a coffin, on which lay a sword, and whichwas followed by a single mourner, who from his manners and dress seemedto belong to the class of nobles, was carried in by the same door. Thewedding guests drew back to let the funeral pass on, the living givingprecedence to the dead. The solitary mourner glanced by chance atQuennebert, and started as if the sight of him was painful. 

"What an unlucky meeting!" murmured Madame Rapally; "it is sure to be abad omen. "

"It's sure to be the exact opposite, " said Quennebert smiling. 

The two ceremonies took place simultaneously in two adjoining chapels;the funeral dirges which fell on the widow's ear full of sinisterprediction seemed to have quite another meaning for Quennebert, for hisfeatures lost their look of care, his wrinkles smoothed themselves out, till the guests, among whom was Trumeau, who did not suspect the secretof his relief from suspense, began to believe, despite their surprise, that he was really rejoiced at obtaining legal possession of thecharming Madame Rapally. 

As for her, she fleeted the daylight hours by anticipating the joyfulmoment when she would have her husband all to herself. When night came, hardly had she entered the nuptial chamber than she uttered a piercingshriek. She had just found and read a paper left on the bed by Trumeau, who before leaving had contrived to glide into the room unseen. Itscontents were of terrible import, so terrible that the new-made wifefell unconscious to the ground. 

Quennebert, who, without a smile, was absorbed in reflections on thehappiness at last within his grasp, heard the noise from the next room, and rushing in, picked up his wife. Catching sight of the paper, he alsouttered a cry of anger and astonishment, but in whatever circumstanceshe found himself he was never long uncertain how to act. Placing MadameQuennebert, still unconscious, on the bed, he called her maid, and, having impressed on her that she was to take every care of her mistress, and above all to tell her from him as soon as she came to herself thatthere was no cause for alarm, he left the house at once. An hour later, in spite of the efforts of the servants, he forced his way into thepresence of Commander de Jars. Holding out the fateful document to him, he said:

"Speak openly, commander! Is it you who in revenge for your longconstraint have done this? I can hardly think so, for after what hashappened you know that I have nothing to fear any longer. Still, knowingmy secret and unable to do it in any other way, have you perchance takenyour revenge by an attempt to destroy my future happiness by sowingdissension and disunion between me and my wife?"

The commander solemnly assured him that he had had no hand in bringingabout the discovery. 

"Then if it's not you, it must be a worthless being called Trumeau, who, with the unerring instinct of jealousy, has run the truth to earth. But he knows only half: I have never been either so much in love or sostupid as to allow myself to be trapped. I have given you my promise tobe discreet and not to misuse my power, and as long as was compatiblewith my own safety I have kept my word. But now you must see that I ambound to defend myself, and to do that I shall be obliged to summonyou as a witness. So leave Paris tonight and seek out some safe retreatwhere no one can find you, for to-morrow I shall speak. Of course if Iam quit for a woman's tears, if no more difficult task lies before methan to soothe a weeping wife, you can return immediately; but if, as istoo probable, the blow has been struck by the hand of a rival furiousat having been defeated, the matter will not so easily be cut short; thearm of the law will be invoked, and then I must get my head out of thenoose which some fingers I know of are itching to draw tight. "

"You are quite right, sir, " answered the commander; "I fear that myinfluence at court is not strong enough to enable me to brave the matterout. Well, my success has cost me dear, but it has cured me for ever ofseeking out similar adventures. My preparations will not take long, andto-morrow's dawn will find me far from Paris. "

Quennebert bowed and withdrew, returning home to console his Ariadne. 

CHAPTER IX

The accusation hanging over the head of Maitre Quennebert was a veryserious one, threatening his life, if proved. But he was not uneasy; heknew himself in possession of facts which would enable him to refute ittriumphantly. 

The platonic love of Angelique de Guerchi for the handsome Chevalier deMoranges had resulted, as we have seen, in no practical wrong to the Ducde Vitry. After her reconciliation with her lover, brought about by theeminently satisfactory explanations she was able to give of her conduct, which we have already laid before our readers, she did not considerit advisable to shut her heart to his pleadings much longer, andthe consequence was that at the end of a year she found herself in acondition which it was necessary to conceal from everyone. To Angeliqueherself, it is true, the position was not new, and she felt neithergrief nor shame, regarding the coming event as a means of making herfuture more secure by forging a new link in the chain which bound theduke to her. But he, sure that but for himself Angelique would neverhave strayed from virtue's path, could not endure the thought of herlosing her reputation and becoming an object for scandal to point herfinger at; so that Angelique, who could not well seem less careful ofher good name than he, was obliged to turn his song of woe into a duet, and consent to certain measures being taken. 

One evening, therefore, shortly before Maitre Quennebert's marriage, thefair lady set out, ostensibly on a journey which was to last a fortnightor three weeks. In reality she only made a circle in a post-chaiseround Paris, which she re-entered at one of the barriers, where theduke awaited her with a sedan-chair. In this she was carried to the veryhouse to which de Jars had brought his pretended nephew after the duel. Angelique, who had to pay dearly for her errors, remained there onlytwenty-four hours, and then left in her coffin, which was hidden in acellar under the palace of the Prince de Conde, the body being coveredwith quicklime. Two days after this dreadful death, Commander de Jarspresented himself at the fatal house, and engaged a room in which heinstalled the chevalier. 

This house, which we are about to ask the reader to enter with us, stoodat the corner of the rue de la Tixeranderie and the rue Deux-Portes. There was nothing in the exterior of it to distinguish it from anyother, unless perhaps two brass plates, one of which bore the wordsMARIE LEROUX-CONSTANTIN, WIDOW, CERTIFIED MIDWIFE, and the other CLAUDEPERREGAUD, SURGEON. These plates were affixed to the blank wall in therue de la Tixeranderie, the windows of the rooms on that side lookinginto the courtyard. The house door, which opened directly on the firststeps of a narrow winding stair, was on the other side, just beyond thelow arcade under whose vaulted roof access was gained to that end of therue des Deux-Portes. This house, though dirty, mean, and out of repair, received many wealthy visitors, whose brilliant equipages waited forthem in the neighbouring streets. Often in the night great ladiescrossed its threshold under assumed names and remained there for severaldays, during which La Constantin and Claude Perregaud, by an infamoususe of their professional knowledge, restored their clients to anoutward appearance of honour, and enabled them to maintain theirreputation for virtue. The first and second floors contained a dozenrooms in which these abominable mysteries were practised. The largeapartment, which served as waiting and consultation room, was oddlyfurnished, being crowded with objects of strange and unfamiliar form. Itresembled at once the operating-room of a surgeon, the laboratory ofa chemist and alchemist, and the den of a sorcerer. There, mixed uptogether in the greatest confusion, lay instruments of all sorts, caldrons and retorts, as well as books containing the most absurdravings of the human mind. There were the twenty folio volumes ofAlbertus Magnus; the works of his disciple, Thomas de Cantopre, ofAlchindus, of Averroes, of Avicenna, of Alchabitius, of David dePlaine-Campy, called L'Edelphe, surgeon to Louis XIII and author ofthe celebrated book The Morbific Hydra Exterminated by the ChemicalHercules. Beside a bronze head, such as the monk Roger Bacon possessed, which answered all the questions that were addressed to it and foretoldthe future by means of a magic mirror and the combination of the rulesof perspective, lay an eggshell, the same which had been used by Caret, as d'Aubigne tells us, when making men out of germs, mandrakes, andcrimson silk, over a slow fire. In the presses, which had sliding-doorsfastening with secret springs, stood Jars filled with noxious drugs, thepower of which was but too efficacious; in prominent positions, facingeach other, hung two portraits, one representing Hierophilos, a Greekphysician, and the other Agnodice his pupil, the first Athenian midwife. 

For several years already La Constantin and Claude Perregaud had carriedon their criminal practices without interference. A number of personswere of course in the secret, but their interests kept them silent, and the two accomplices had at last persuaded themselves that they wereperfectly safe. One evening, however, Perregaud came home, his facedistorted by terror and trembling in every limb. He had been warnedwhile out that the suspicions of the authorities had been aroused inregard to him and La Constantin. It seemed that some little time ago, the Vicars-General had sent a deputation to the president of the chiefcourt of justice, having heard from their priests that in one year alonesix hundred women had avowed in the confessional that they had takendrugs to prevent their having children. This had been sufficient toarouse the vigilance of the police, who had set a watch on Perregaud'shouse, with the result that that very night a raid was to be made on it. The two criminals took hasty counsel together, but, as usual under suchcircumstances, arrived at no practical conclusions. It was only when thedanger was upon them that they recovered their presence of mind. In thedead of night loud knocking at the street door was heard, followed bythe command to open in the name of the king. 

"We can yet save ourselves!" exclaimed surgeon, with a sudden flash ofinspiration. 

Rushing into the room where the pretended chevalier was lying, he calledout--

"The police are coming up! If they discover your sex you are lost, andso am I. Do as I tell you. "

At a sign from him, La Constantin went down and opened the door. Whilethe rooms on the first floor were being searched, Perregaud made with alancet a superficial incision in the chevalier's right arm, which gavevery little pain, and bore a close resemblance to a sword-cut. Surgeryand medicine were at that time so inextricably involved, requiredsuch apparatus, and bristled with such scientific absurdities, that noastonishment was excited by the extraordinary collection of instrumentswhich loaded the tables and covered the floors below: even the titlesof certain treatises which there had been no time to destroy, awoke nosuspicion. 

Fortunately for the surgeon and his accomplice, they had only onepatient--the chevalier--in their house when the descent was made. Whenthe chevalier's room was reached, the first thing which the officers ofthe law remarked were the hat, spurred boots, and sword of the patient. Claude Perregaud hardly looked up as the room was invaded; he onlymade a sign to those--who came in to be quiet, and went on dressing thewound. Completely taken in, the officer in command merely asked the nameof the patient and the cause of the wound. La Constantin replied thatit' was the young Chevalier de Moranges, nephew of Commander de Jars, who had had an affair of honour that same night, and being sightlywounded had been brought thither by his uncle hardly an hour before. These questions and the apparently trustworthy replies elicited by thembeing duly taken down, the uninvited visitors retired, having discoverednothing to justify their visit. 

All might have been well had there been nothing the matter but the woundon the chevalier's sword-arm. But at the moment when Perregaud gave itto him the poisonous nostrums employed by La Constantin were alreadyworking in his blood. Violent fever ensued, and in three days thechevalier was dead. It was his funeral which had met Quennebert'swedding party at the church door. 

Everything turned out as Quennebert had anticipated. Madame Quennebert, furious at the deceit which had been practised on her, refused to listento her husband's justification, and Trumeau, not letting the grass growunder his feet, hastened the next day to launch an accusation of bigamyagainst the notary; for the paper which had been found in the nuptialcamber was nothing less than an attested copy of a contract of marriageconcluded between Quennebert and Josephine-Charlotte Boullenois. Itwas by the merest chance that Trumeau had come on the record of themarriage, and he now challenged his rival to produce a certificate ofthe death of his first wife. Charlotte Boullenois, after two years ofmarriage, had demanded a deed of separation, which demand Quennebert hadopposed. While the case was going on she had retired to the convent ofLa Raquette, where her intrigue with de Jars began. The commander easilyinduced her to let herself be carried off by force. He then concealedhis conquest by causing her to adopt male attire, a mode of dress whichaccorded marvellously well with her peculiar tastes and rather masculineframe. At first Quennebert had instituted an active but fruitlesssearch for his missing wife, but soon became habituated to his state ofenforced single blessedness, enjoying to the full the liberty it broughtwith it. But his business had thereby suffered, and once having made theacquaintance of Madame Rapally, he cultivated it assiduously, knowingher fortune would be sufficient to set him straight again with theworld, though he was obliged to exercise the utmost caution and reservein has intercourse with her, as she on her side displayed none of thesequalities. At last, however, matters came to such a pass that hemust either go to prison or run the risk of a second marriage. So hereluctantly named a day for the ceremony, resolving to leave Paris withMadame Rapally as soon as he had settled with his creditors. 

In the short interval which ensued, and while Trumeau was hugging theknowledge of the discovery he had made, a stroke of luck had brought thepretended chevalier to La Constantin. As Quennebert had kept an eyeon de Jars and was acquainted with all his movements, he was awareof everything that happened at Perregaud's, and as Charlotte's deathpreceded his second marriage by one day, he knew that no seriousconsequences would ensue from the legal proceedings taken against him. He produced the declarations made by Mademoiselle de Guerchi and thecommander, and had the body exhumed. Extraordinary and improbable as hisdefence appeared at first to be, the exhumation proved the truth of hisassertions. These revelations, however, drew the eye of justice againon Perregaud and his partner in crime, and this time their guilt wasbrought home to them. They were condemned by parliamentary decree to "behanged by the neck till they were dead, on a gallows erected for thatpurpose at the cross roads of the Croix-du-Trahoir; their bodies toremain there for twenty-four hours, then to be cut down and brought backto Paris, where they were to be exposed an a gibbet, " etc. , etc. 

It was proved that they had amassed immense fortunes in the exercise oftheir infamous calling. The entries in the books seized at their house, though sparse, would have led, if made public, to scandals, involvingmany in high places; it was therefore judged best to limit theaccusation to the two deaths by blood-poisoning of Angelique de Querchiand Charlotte Boullenois.