Читать книгу The Mysteries of Paris - Эжен Сю - Страница 25

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The house which Rodolph had in the Allée des Veuves was not his usual place of residence; he lived in one of the largest mansions in the Faubourg St. Germain, situated at the end of the Rue Plumet and the Boulevard des Invalides.

To avoid the honours due to his sovereign rank, the prince had preserved his incognito since his arrival in Paris, his chargé d'affaires at the court of France having announced that his master would pay his official and indispensable visits under the name and title of the Count de Duren. Thanks to this usage (a very common one in the Northern courts), a prince may travel with as much liberty as pleasure, and escape all the bore of ceremonious introductions. In spite of his slight incognito, Rodolph kept up in his mansion full state and etiquette. We will introduce the reader into the hôtel of the Rue Plumet, the day after the Chourineur had started for Algiers.

The clock had just struck ten, A.M. In the middle of a large salon on the ground floor and which formed the antechamber to Rodolph's business chamber, Murphy was seated before a bureau, and sealing several despatches. A groom of the chambers, dressed in black and wearing a silver chain around his neck, opened the folding-doors and announced:

"His Excellency M. le Baron de Graün."

Murphy, without ceasing from his employment, received the baron with a nod at once cordial and familiar.

"M. le Chargé d'Affaires," said he, smiling, "will you warm yourself at the fire? I will be at your service in one moment."

"M. the Private Secretary, I await your leisure," replied M. de Graün, gaily, and making, with mock respect, a low and respectful bow to the worthy squire.

The baron was about fifty years of age, with hair gray, thin, and lightly curled and powdered. His chin, rather projecting, was partly concealed in a high cravat of white muslin, starched very stiffly, and of unimpeachable whiteness. His countenance was expressive of great intelligence, and his carriage was distingué; whilst beneath his gold spectacles there beamed an eye as shrewd as it was penetrating. Although it was only ten o'clock in the morning, M. de Graün wore a black coat—that was etiquette—and a riband, shot with several bright colours, was suspended from his buttonhole. He placed his hat on a chair and took his station near the fireplace, whilst Murphy continued his work.

"His royal highness, no doubt, was up the best part of the night, my dear Murphy, for your correspondence appears considerable?"

"Monseigneur went to bed at six o'clock this morning. He wrote, amongst other letters, one of eight pages to the Grand Marshal, and dictated to me one equally long to the Chief of the Upper Council, the Prince Herkhaüsen-Oldenzaal, his royal highness's cousin."

"You know that his son, Prince Henry, has entered as lieutenant in the guards in the service of his Majesty the Emperor of Austria?"

"Yes; monseigneur recommended him most warmly as his relation; and he really is a fine, excellent young man, handsome as an angel, and as good as gold."

"The fact is, my dear Murphy, that if the young Prince Henry had had his entrée to the grand ducal abbey of Ste. Hermenegilde, of which his aunt is the superior, the poor nuns—"

"Baron! baron! why—"

"My dear sir, the air of Paris—But let us talk seriously. Shall I await the rising of his royal highness to communicate all the particulars which I have procured?"

"No, my dear baron. Monseigneur has desired that he should not be called before two or three o'clock in the afternoon; he desires, also, that you send off this morning these despatches by a special courier, instead of waiting till Monday. You will entrust me with all the particulars you have acquired, and I will communicate them to monseigneur when he wakes. These are his orders."

"Nothing can be better, and I think his royal highness will be satisfied with what I have collected. But, my dear Murphy, I hope the despatch of the special courier is not a bad sign; the last despatches which I had the honour of sending to his royal highness—"

"Announced that all was going on well at home; and it is precisely because my lord is desirous of expressing as early as possible his entire satisfaction, that he wishes a courier to be despatched this very day to Prince Herkhaüsen-Oldenzaal, Chief of the Supreme Council."

"That is so like his royal highness; were it to blame instead of commend, he would observe less haste."

"Nothing new has transpired with us, my dear baron—nothing at all. Our mysterious adventures—"

"Are wholly unknown. You know that, since the arrival of his royal highness in Paris, his friends have become used to see him but little in public; it is understood that he prefers seclusion, and is in the habit of making frequent excursions to the environs of Paris, and, with the exception of the Countess Sarah Macgregor and her brother, no person is aware of the disguises assumed by his royal highness; and neither of the personages I have mentioned have the smallest interest in betraying the secret."

"Ah! my dear baron," exclaimed Murphy, heaving a deep sigh, "what an unfortunate thing it is that this accursed countess should be left a widow at this very important moment!"

"She was married, I think, in 1827 or 1828?"

"In 1827, shortly after the death of the unfortunate child, who would now be in her sixteenth or seventeenth year, and whose loss his royal highness seems daily more to deplore."

"Far more so, indeed, than he appears to feel for the loss of his legitimate offspring."

"And thus, my dear baron, we may account for the deep interest his royal highness takes in the poor Goualeuse, arising as it does from the fact that the daughter so deeply deplored would, had she lived, have been precisely the same age as this unfortunate young creature."

"It is, indeed, an unfortunate affair that the Countess Sarah, from whom we fancied we were for ever freed, should have become a widow exactly eighteen months after his royal highness had been deprived by death of the wife with whom he had passed years of wedded happiness. The countess, I am persuaded, looks upon this double freedom from all marriage vows as a signal intervention of Providence to further her views."

"And her impetuous passion has become more ardent than ever, though she is well aware that my lord feels for her the deepest aversion and well-merited contempt. Was not her culpable indifference the cause of her child's death? Did she not cause—Ah, baron," said Murphy, leaving the sentence unfinished, "this woman is our evil genius. God grant she may not reappear amongst us laden with fresh misfortunes!"

"But still, under present circumstances, any views Countess Sarah may entertain must be absurd in the greatest degree; the death of the unfortunate child you just now alluded to has broken the last tie which might have attached my lord to this dangerous woman. She must be mad, as well as foolish, to persist in so hopeless a pursuit."

"If she be mad, there is a dangerous 'method in her madness;' her brother, you are aware, partakes of her ambitious schemes and obstinate opinions of ultimate success. Although this worthy pair have as much reason for utter despair as they had eighteen years since of entire success—"

"Eighteen years! What an accumulation of evil has been wrought during that period by the criminal compliance of that rascally Polidori!"

"By the way, talking of that miserable wretch, I have traced that he was here about a year or two ago, suffering, no doubt, from the most perfect destitution, or else subsisting by disgraceful and dishonourable practices."

"What a pity that a man so largely endowed with penetration, talent, deep learning, and natural intelligence, should sink so low!"

"The innate perversity of his character marred all these high qualities. It is to be hoped he and the countess will not meet; the junction of two such evil spirits is indeed to be feared, for what frightful consequences might there not result from it! Now, touching the facts you have been collecting, have you them about you?"

"Here," said the baron, drawing a paper from his pocket, "are the various particulars I have been enabled to collect touching the birth of a young girl known as La Goualeuse, and also of the now residence of an individual called François Germain, son of the Schoolmaster."

"Be kind enough to read me the result of your inquiries, my dear De Graün. I am well aware what are his royal highness's intentions in the matter; I shall be able to judge then whether the information you possess will be sufficient to enable him to carry them into effect. You have every reason to be satisfied with the agent you employ, I suppose?"

"Oh, he is a rare fellow! so precise, methodical, zealous, and intelligent! I am, indeed, sometimes obliged to moderate his energy; for I am well aware there are certain points, the clearing up of which his highness reserves for himself."

"And, of course, your agent is far from suspecting the deep interest his royal highness has in the matter?"

"Entirely so. My diplomatic position affords an excellent pretext for the inquiries I have undertaken. M. Badinot (for such is the name of the person I am speaking of) is a sharp, shrewd individual, having connections, either recognised or concealed, in every grade of society. He was formerly a lawyer, but compelled to quit his profession from some very serious breach of trust; he has, however, retained very accurate recollections touching the fortunes and situations of his old clients; he knows many a secret, which he boasts, with considerable effrontery, of having turned to a good account. By turns, rich and poor—now successful, and then a ruined man—he only ceased his speculations when none could be found to take part in them with him; reduced to live from day to day by expedients more or less illegal, he became a curious specimen of the Figaro school—so long as his interest was concerned he would devote himself, soul and body, to his employer; and we are sure of his fidelity, for the simple reason that he has nothing to gain, though a great deal to lose, by deceiving us; and, besides, I make him careful of our interests, even unknown to himself."

"The particulars he has hitherto furnished us with have been very correct and satisfactory."

"Oh, he has a very straightforward manner of going to work! And I assure you, my dear Murphy, that M. Badinot is the very original type of one of those mysterious existences which are to be met with, and only possible, in Paris. He would greatly amuse his royal highness, if it were not necessary to avoid their being known to each other in this business."

"You can augment the pay of M. Badinot if you deem it necessary."

"Why, really, five hundred francs a month, and his expenses, amounting to nearly the same sum, appear to me quite sufficient; we shall see by and by."

"And does he not seem ashamed of the part he plays?"

"On the contrary, he is not a little vain of his employment, and when he brings me any particulars assumes a certain air of importance he would fain pass off as due to his diplomatic functions; for the fellow either thinks, or feigns to do so, that he is deeply engaged in state affairs, and ventures to observe at times, in a sort of undertone, how very marvellous it is that such close and intimate relationship should be found to exist between every-day events and the destinies of kingdoms! Yes, really, he had the impudence to remark to me the other day, 'What complicated machinery is contained in the grand machine of state affairs! Who would think now, M. le Baron, those little humble notes collected by me will have their part to play in directing and regulating the affairs of Europe!'"

"Yes, yes, rascals generally seek to veil their mean and base practices beneath some high-sounding pretext. But the notes you are to give me, my dear baron, have you them with you?"

"Here they are, drawn up precisely from the accounts furnished by M. Badinot."

"Pray let me hear them; I am all attention."

M. de Graün then read as follows:

"Note relative to Fleur-de-Marie.—About the beginning of the year 1827, a man named Pierre Tournemine, then under sentence in the galleys at Rochefort for forgery, proposed to a woman named Gervais, but also known as La Chouette, to take perpetual charge of a little girl, then between five and six years of age, for a sum of one thousand francs paid down.

"The bargain being concluded, the child was delivered over to the woman, with whom she remained two years, when, unable longer to endure the cruelty shown her, the little girl disappeared; nor did the Chouette hear anything of her for several years, when she unexpectedly met with her at a small public-house in the Cité, nearly seven weeks ago. The infant, now grown into a young woman, then bore the appellation of La Goualeuse.

"A few days previously to this meeting, the above mentioned Tournemine, who had become acquainted with the Schoolmaster at the galleys of Rochefort, had sent to Bras Rouge (the regular, though concealed correspondent of every rogue and felon either in prison or out of it) a lengthened detail of every particular relative to the child formerly confided to the woman Gervais, otherwise the Chouette.

"From this account, and the declarations of the Chouette, it appeared that one Madame Séraphin, housekeeper to a notary named Jacques Ferrand, had in 1827 instructed Tournemine to find a person who, for the sum of one thousand francs, would be willing to take the entire charge of a child of from five to six years of age whom it was desired to get rid of, as has before been mentioned.

"The Chouette accepted the proposition, and received both the child and the stipulated sum of money.

"The aim of Tournemine, in addressing these particulars to Bras Rouge, was to enable the latter to extort money from Madame Séraphin, whom Tournemine considered but as the agent of a third party, under a threat of revealing the whole affair unless well paid for silence.

"Bras Rouge entrusted the Chouette, long the established partner in all the Schoolmaster's schemes of villainy; and this explains how so important a document found its way to that monster's possession, and also accounts for the expression used by the Chouette at her rencontre with the Goualeuse in the cabaret of the White Rabbit, when, by way of tormenting her victim, she said, 'We have found out all about your parents, but you shall never know who or what they are.'

"The point to be decided was as to the veracity of the circumstances detailed by Tournemine in his letter to the Chouette.

"It has been ascertained that Madame Séraphin and the notary, Jacques Ferrand, are both living; the address of the latter is Rue du Sentier, No. 41, where he passes for a person of pious and austere life; at least, he is constant in his attendance at church—his attention to his professional duties, close and severe, though some accuse him of following up the severity of the law with unnecessary rigour. In his mode of living he observes a parsimony bordering on avarice. Madame Séraphin still resides with him, as manager of his household; and M. Jacques Ferrand, spite of his original poverty, has invested thirty-five thousand francs in the funds, the greatest part of this sum having been supplied to him through a M. Charles Robert, a superior officer of the National Guard—a young and handsome man, in high repute with a certain class of society. 'Tis true that some ill-natured persons are found to assert that, owing either to fortunate speculations or lucky hits upon the Stock Exchange, undertaken in partnership with the above mentioned Charles Robert, the worthy notary could now well afford to pay back the original loan with high interest; but the rigidly austere and self-denying life of this worthy man gives a flat denial to all such gossiping reports, and, spite of the incredulity with which he is occasionally listened to, he persists in styling himself a man struggling for a maintenance. There can be no manner of doubt but that Madame Séraphin, this worthy gentleman's housekeeper, could, if she pleased, throw an entire light upon every circumstance connected with La Goualeuse."

"Bravo, my dear baron!" exclaimed Murphy; "nothing can be better. These declarations of Tournemine carry with them an appearance of truth, and it seems more than probable that we may, through Jacques Ferrand, obtain the right clue to discovering the parents of this unfortunate girl. Now tell me, have you been equally successful in the information collected touching the son of the Schoolmaster?"

"Perhaps, as regards him, I am not furnished with such minute particulars; but, upon the whole, I think the result of our inquiries very satisfactory."

"Upon my word, your M. Badinot is a downright treasure!"

"You see, Bras Rouge is the hinge upon which everything turns. M. Badinot, who has several acquaintances in the police, pointed him out to us as the go-between of several notorious felons, and knew the man directly he was set to discover what had become of the ill-fated son of Madame Georges Duresnel, the unfortunate wife of this atrocious Schoolmaster."

"And it was in going to search for Bras Rouge, in his den in the Cité (Rue aux Fêves, No. 13), that my lord fell in with the Chourineur and La Goualeuse. His royal highness hoped, too, that the opportunity now before him, of visiting these abodes of vice and wretchedness, might afford him the means of rescuing some unfortunate being from the depths of guilt and misery. His benevolent anticipations were gratified, but at what risk it is painful even to remember."

"Whatever dangers attended the scheme, you, at least, my dear Murphy, bravely bore your share in them."

"Was not I, for that very purpose, appointed charcoal-man in waiting upon his royal highness?" replied the squire, smilingly.

"Say, rather, his intrepid body-guard, my worthy friend. But to touch upon your courage and devotion is only to repeat what every one knows. I will, therefore, spare your modesty, and continue my relation. Here are the various particulars we have been able to glean concerning François Germain, son of Madame Georges and the Schoolmaster, properly called Duresnel:

"About eighteen months since, a young man, named François Germain, arrived in Paris from Nantes, where he had been employed in the banking-house of Noël and Co.

"It seems, both from the confession of the Schoolmaster as well as from several letters found upon him, that the scoundrel to whom he had entrusted his unfortunate offspring, for the purpose of perverting his young mind, and rendering him one day a worthy assistant to his unprincipled father in his nefarious schemes, proposed to the young man to join in a plot for robbing his employers, as well as to forge upon the firm to a considerable amount. This proposition was received by the youth with well-merited indignation, but, unwilling to denounce the man by whom he had been brought up, he first communicated anonymously to his master the designs projected against the bank, and then privately quitted Nantes, that he might avoid the rage and fury of those whose sinful practices his soul sickened and shuddered to think of, far less to bear the idea of participating in.

"These wretches, aware that they had betrayed themselves to the young man, and dreading the use he might make of his information, immediately upon finding he had quitted Nantes followed him to Paris, with the most sinister intentions of silencing him for ever. After long and persevering inquiries, they succeeded in discovering his address, but, happily for the persecuted object of their search, he had a few days previously encountered the villain who had first sought to corrupt his principles, and, well divining the motive which had brought him to Paris, lost no time in changing his abode; and so, for this time, the Schoolmaster's hapless son escaped his pursuers. Still, however, following up the scent, they succeeded in tracing the youth to his fresh abode, 17 Rue du Temple. One evening, however, he narrowly escaped falling into an ambush laid for him (the Schoolmaster concealed this circumstance from my lord), but again Providence befriended him, and he escaped, though too much alarmed to remain in his lodgings; he once more changed his abode, since which time all traces of him have been lost. And matters had reached thus far when the Schoolmaster received the just punishment of his crimes; since which period, by order of my lord, fresh inquiries have been instituted, of which the following is the result.

"François Germain lived for about three months at No. 17 Rue du Temple, a house rendered worthy of observation by the habits and ingenious practices of its inhabitants. Germain was a great favourite among them, by reason of his kind and amiable disposition, as well as for the frank gaiety of his temper. Although his means of livelihood appeared very slender, yet he had rendered the most generous assistance to an indigent family occupying the garrets of the house. In vain has been every inquiry made in the Rue du Temple touching the present residence of François Germain, or the profession he was supposed to follow; every one in the house believed him to be employed in some counting-house, or office, as he went out early in the morning and never returned till late in the evening. The only person who really knows the present residence of the young man is a female, lodging in the house No. 17 Rue du Temple—a young and pretty grisette, named Rigolette, between whom and Germain a very close acquaintance appears to have existed. She occupies the adjoining room to that which Germain tenanted, and which chamber, by the by, is still vacant; and it was under pretext of inquiring about it that these particulars were obtained."

"Rigolette!" exclaimed Murphy, after having been for several minutes apparently in deep thought. "Yes, I am sure I know her."

"You! Sir Walter Murphy," replied the baron, much amused. "You, most worthy and respectable father of a family! you know anything of pretty grisettes! And so the name of Mlle. Rigolette is familiar to you, is it? Fie, fie! Oh, positively I am ashamed of you!"

"'Pon my soul, my lord compelled me to have so many strange acquaintances, that such a mere trifle as this should pass for nothing. But wait a bit. Yes, now I recollect perfectly, that when my lord was relating the history of La Goualeuse, I could not help laughing at the very odd name of Rigolette, which, as far as I can call to mind, was the name of a prison acquaintance of that poor Fleur-de-Marie."

"Well, then, just at this particular juncture Mlle. Rigolette may be of the utmost service to us. Let me conclude my report:

"There might possibly be an advantage in engaging the vacant chamber recently belonging to Germain, in the Rue du Temple. We have no instructions to proceed further in our investigations, but, from some words which escaped the porteress, there is every reason to believe that not only would it be possible to find in this house certain indications of where the Schoolmaster's son may be heard of, through the means of Mlle. Rigolette, but the house itself would afford my lord an opportunity of studying human nature amid wants, difficulties, and misery, the very existence of which he is far from suspecting."

"Thus you see, my dear Murphy," said M. de Graün, finishing his report and presenting it to his companion, "you see evidently that it is from the notary, Jacques Ferrand, we must hope to obtain information respecting the parentage of La Goualeuse, and that we must go to Mlle. Rigolette to trace the dwelling of François Germain. It seems to me a great point to have ascertained the direction in which to search."

"Undoubtedly, baron; you are quite right; and, besides, I am sure my lord will find a fine field for observation in the house of which you speak. But I have not yet done with you. Have you made any inquiries respecting the Marquis d'Harville?"

"I have; and, so far as concerns money matters, his royal highness's fears are wholly unfounded. M. Badinot affirms (and he is very likely to be well informed on the subject) that the fortune of the marquis has never been in a more prosperous condition, or better managed."

"Why, after having in vain exhausted every other conjecture as to the secret grief which is preying upon M. d'Harville, my lord imagined that it was just probable the marquis had some pecuniary difficulties; had it proved so, he would have removed them with that delicate assumption of mystery you know he so frequently employs to veil his munificence. But, since even this conjecture has failed, he must abandon all hope of guessing the enigma; and this he will do the more reluctantly, as his great desire to discover it arose out of his ardent friendship for M. d'Harville."

"A friendship which is founded on a grateful recollection of the important services rendered by the marquis's father to his own parent. Are you aware, my dear Murphy, that at the remodelling of the States in 1815, at the Germanic confederation, the father of his royal highness had a chance of being excluded, from his well-known attachment to Napoleon? Thanks to the friendship with which the Emperor Alexander honoured him, the deceased Marquis d'Harville was enabled to render most effectual service to the father of our patron. The emperor, whose warm regard for the late marquis had taken its date from the period of that nobleman's emigration to Russia, exerted his powerful influence in congress so successfully, that at the grand meeting to decide the destinies of the princes of Germany, the father of our noble employer was reinstated in all his pristine rights. As for the friendship now subsisting between the present marquis and his royal highness, I believe it commenced when, as mere boys, they met together on a visit paid by the then reigning grand duke to the late Marquis d'Harville."

"So I have heard; and they appear to have retained a most lively recollection of this happy period of their youth. Nor is this all I have to say on the subject of the interest our noble master takes in every matter concerning the house of D'Harville. So profound is his gratitude for the services rendered to his father, that all bearing the honoured name of D'Harville, or belonging to the family, possess a powerful claim on the kindness of the prince. Thus, not alone to her virtues or her misfortunes does poor Madame Georges owe the increasing and unwearied goodness of my lord."

"Madame Georges!" exclaimed the astounded baron. "What, the wife of Duresnel, the felon known as the Schoolmaster?"

"And the mother of François Germain, the youth we are seeking for, and whom, I trust, we shall find."

"Is the relation of M. d'Harville?"

"She was his mother's cousin, and her most intimate friend; the old marquis entertained the most perfect friendship and esteem for Madame Georges."

"But how, for heaven's sake, my dear Murphy, did it ever come about that the D'Harville family ever permitted a descendant of theirs to marry such a monster as this Duresnel?"

"Why, thus it was. The father of this unfortunate woman was a M. de Lagny, who, previous to the Revolution, possessed considerable property in Languedoc, and who, having fortunately escaped the proscription so fatal to many, availed himself of the first tranquillity which succeeded these days of discord and anarchy to establish his only daughter in marriage. Among the various candidates for the hand of the young heiress was this Duresnel, the representative of a wealthy and respectable family, possessing powerful parliamentary influence, and concealing the depravity of his disposition beneath the most specious exterior. To this man was Mlle. de Lagny united, by desire of her father; but a very short time sufficed to strip the mask from his vicious character, and to display his natural propensities. A gambler, a spendthrift, and profligate, addicted to the lowest vices that can disgrace a human being, he quickly dissipated, not only his own fortune, but that of his wife also. Even the estate to which Madame Georges Duresnel had retired was involved in the general ruin occasioned by her worthless husband's passion for play, and his dissolute mode of life; and the unfortunate woman would have been left without a shelter for herself or infant son but for the kind affection of her relation, the Marquise d'Harville, whom she loved with the tenderness of a sister. With this valued friend Madame Duresnel found a welcome home, while her wretched husband, finding himself utterly ruined, plunged into the blackest crimes, and stopped at no means, however guilty and desperate, to supply his pleasures. He became the associate of thieves, murderers, pickpockets, and forgers, and ere long, falling into the hands of the law, was sentenced to the galleys for the term of his natural life. Yet, while suffering the just punishment of his crimes, his base mind devised the double atrocity of tearing the child from its miserable mother, for the sake of breaking down every good principle it might have imbibed, and of training it up in vicious readiness to join his future schemes of villainy. You know the rest. After the condemnation of her husband, Madame Georges, without giving any reason for so doing, quitted the Marquise d'Harville, and went to hide her shame and her sorrows in Paris, where she soon fell into the utmost distress. It would occupy too much time to tell you by what train of events my lord became aware of the misfortunes of this excellent woman, as well as the ties which connect her with the D'Harville family; it is sufficient that he came most opportunely and generously to her assistance, induced her to quit Paris and establish herself at the farm at Bouqueval, where she now is, with the Goualeuse. In this peaceful retreat she has found tranquillity, if not happiness; and the overlooking and management of the farm may serve to recreate her thoughts, and prevent them from dwelling too deeply on her past sorrows. As much to spare the almost morbid sensibility of Madame Georges, as because he dislikes to blazon forth his good deeds, my lord has not even acquainted M. d'Harville with the fact of his having relieved his kinswoman from such severe distress."

"I comprehend now the twofold interest which my lord has in desiring to discover the traces of the son of this poor woman."

"You may also judge by that, my dear baron, of the affection which his royal highness bears to the whole family, and how deep is his vexation at seeing the young marquis so sad, with so many reasons to be happy."

"What can there be wanting to M. d'Harville? He unites all—birth, fortune, wit, youth; his wife is charming, and as prudent as she is lovely."

"True, and his royal highness only had recourse to the inquiries we have been talking over after having in vain endeavoured to penetrate the cause of M. d'Harville's deep melancholy; he showed himself deeply affected by the kind attentions of monseigneur, but still has been entirely reserved on the subject of his low spirits. It may be some peine de cœur."

"Yet it is said that he is excessively fond of his wife, and she does not give him the least cause for jealousy. I often meet her in society, and, although she is constantly surrounded by admirers (as every young and lovely woman is), still her reputation is unsullied."

"The marquis is always speaking of her in the highest terms; he has had, however, one little discussion with her on the subject of the Countess Sarah Macgregor."

"Has she, then, seen her?"

"By a most unlucky chance, the father of the Marquis d'Harville knew Sarah Seyton of Halsburg, and her brother Tom, seventeen or eighteen years ago, during their residence in Paris, and when they were much noticed by the lady of the English ambassador. Learning that the brother and sister were going into Germany, the old marquis gave them letters of introduction to the father of our noble lord, with whom he kept up a constant correspondence. Alas! my dear De Graün, perhaps but for these introductions many misfortunes would have been avoided, for then monseigneur would not have known this woman. When the Countess Sarah returned hither, knowing the friendship of his royal highness for the marquis, she presented herself at the Hotel d'Harville, in the hope of meeting monseigneur; for she shows as much pertinacity in pursuing him as he evinces resolution to avoid her."

"Only imagine her disguising herself in male attire, and following him into the Cité! No woman but she would have dreamt of such a thing."

"She, perhaps, hoped by such a step to touch his royal highness and compel him to an interview, which he has always refused and avoided. To return to Madame d'Harville: her husband, to whom monseigneur has spoken of Sarah as she deserved, has begged his wife to see her as seldom as possible; but the young marquise, seduced by the hypocritical flatteries of the countess, has gone somewhat counter to the marquis's request. Some trifling differences have arisen, but not of sufficient importance to cause or explain the extreme dejection of the marquis."

"Oh, the women! the women! My dear Murphy, I am very sorry that Madame d'Harville should have formed any acquaintance with this Sarah. So young and charming a woman must suffer by the contact with such an infernal—"

"Talking of infernal creatures," said Murphy, "here is a communication relative to Cecily, the unworthy spouse of the excellent David."

"Between ourselves, my dear Murphy, this audacious métisse[9] well deserves the terrible punishment that her husband, our dear black doctor, has inflicted on the Schoolmaster by monseigneur's order. She has also shed blood, and her unblushing infamy is astounding."

"Yet she is so very handsome—so seductive! A perverted mind within an attractive outside always inspires me with twofold disgust."

"In this sense Cecily is doubly hateful. But I hope that this despatch annuls the last orders issued by monseigneur with regard to this wretched creature."

"On the contrary, baron."

"My lord, then, desires that her escape from the fortress in which she had been shut up for life may be effected?"

"Yes."

"And that her pretended ravisher should bring her to France—to Paris?"

"Yes; and, besides, this despatch orders the arrangement to be carried out as soon as possible, and that Cecily be made to travel hither so speedily that she may arrive here in a fortnight."

"I am lost in astonishment! Monseigneur has always evinced such a horror of her!"

"And that horror he still experiences; if possible, stronger than ever."

"And yet he causes her to be sent to him! To be sure, it will always be easy to apprehend Cecily again, if she does not carry out what he requires of her. Orders are given to the son of the gaoler of the fortress of Gerolstein to carry her off, as if he were enamoured of her, and every facility will be given to him for effecting this purpose. Overjoyed at this opportunity of escaping, the métisse will follow her supposed ravisher, and reach Paris; then she will always have her sentence of condemnation hanging over her, always be but an escaped prisoner, and I shall be always ready, when it shall please his royal highness to desire, again to lay hands upon and incarcerate her."

"I should tell you, my dear baron, that when David learned from monseigneur of the proposed arrival of Cecily, he was absolutely petrified, and exclaimed, 'I hope that your royal highness will not compel me to see the monster?' 'Make yourself easy,' replied monseigneur; 'you shall not see her, but I may require her services for a particular purpose.' David felt relieved of an enormous weight off his mind. Nevertheless, I am sure that some very painful reminiscences were awakened in his mind."

"Poor negro! he loves her still. They say, too, that she is yet so lovely!"

"Charming!—too charming! It requires the pitiless eye of a creole to detect the mixed blood in the all but imperceptible shade which lightly tinges her rosy finger-nails. Our fresh and hale beauties of the North have not a more transparent complexion, nor a skin of more dazzling whiteness."

"I was in France when monseigneur returned from America, accompanied by David and Cecily, and I know that that excellent man was from that time attached to his royal highness by ties of the strongest gratitude; but I never learned how he became attached to the service of our master, and how he had married Cecily, whom I saw, for the first time, about a year after his marriage; and God knows the scandal that followed!"

"I can tell you every particular that you may wish to learn, my dear baron; I accompanied monseigneur in his voyage to America, when he rescued David and the métisse from the most awful fate."

"You are always most kind, my dear Murphy, and I am all attention," said the baron.

[9] The Creole issue of a white and quadroon slave. The métisses only differ from the whites by some peculiarities hardly perceptible.