by Eugène Sue
“Good! good! he is recovering from his stupor,” said the doctor, speaking to himself. “That bleeding has relieved him; he is now out of danger.”
“Saved? Bravo! Vive la Charte!” exclaimed the Chourineur, in the full burst of his joy.
“Hold your tongue! and pray be quiet!” said the negro, in a tone of command.
“To be sure I will, M. le Médécin.”
“His pulse is becoming regular — very well, indeed — excellent—”
“And that poor friend of M. Rodolph’s, — body and bones of me! — when he comes to know that — But, then, luckily—”
“Silence! I say.”
“Certainly, M. le Docteur.”
“And sit down.”
“But, M. le—”
“Sit down, I tell you! You disturb me, twisting and fidgeting about in that manner, — you distract my attention. Come, sit down at once, and keep still.”
“But, doctor, don’t you perceive I am as dirty as a pile of floating wood just going to be unloaded? — all slime and wet, you see. I should spoil the furniture.”
“Then sit down on the ground.”
“I should soil the carpet.”
“Do what you like, but, for heaven’s sake, be quiet!” said the doctor, in a tone of impatience; then, throwing himself into an armchair, he leaned his head upon his clasped hands, and appeared lost in deep reflection.
After a moment of profound meditation, the Chourineur, less from any need he felt for repose than in obedience to the doctor’s commands, took a chair with the utmost precaution, turned it upside down with an air of intense self-satisfaction at having at length devised a plan to act in strict conformity with the orders received, and yet avoid all risk of soiling the silken cushion; having laid the back on the ground, he proceeded, after all manner of delicate arrangements, to take his seat on the outer rails; but, unhappily, the Chourineur was entirely ignorant of the laws of the lever and the equilibrium of bodies, the chair overbalanced, and the luckless individual seated thereon, in endeavouring to save himself from falling, by an involuntary movement caught hold of a small stand, on which was a tray containing some tea-things.
At the formidable noise caused by so many falling articles clattering upon the head of the unfortunate cause of all this discord and havoc, the doctor sprung from his seat, while Rodolph, awaking with a start, raised himself on his elbow, looked about him with an anxious and perturbed glance, then, passing his hand over his brows, as though trying to arrange his ideas, he inquired:
“Where is Murphy?”
“Your royal highness need be under no apprehensions on his account,” answered the negro, respectfully; “there is every hope of his recovery.”
“Recovery! He is, then, wounded?”
“Unhappily, my lord, he is.”
“Where is he? Let me see him!” And Rodolph endeavoured to rise, but fell back again, overcome by weakness and the intense pain he felt from his many and severe contusions. “Since I cannot walk,” cried he, at length, “let me be instantly carried to Murphy, — this moment!”
“My lord, he sleeps at present; it would be highly dangerous, at this particular juncture, to expose him to the slightest agitation.”
“You are deceiving me, and he is dead! He has been murdered! And I — I am the wretched cause of it!” cried Rodolph, in a tone of agony, raising his clasped hands towards heaven.
“My lord knows that his servant is incapable of a falsehood. I assert by my honour, that, although severely wounded, Murphy lives, and that his chance of recovery is all but certain.”
“You say that but to prepare me for more disastrous tidings; he lies, doubtless, wounded past all hope; and he, my faithful friend, will die!”
“My lord—”
“Yes, you are seeking to deceive me till all is over. But I will see him, — I will judge for myself; the sight of a friend cannot be hurtful. Let me be instantly removed to his chamber.”
“Once more, my lord, I pledge my solemn assurance, that, barring chances not likely to occur, Murphy will soon be convalescent.”
“My dear David, may I indeed believe you?”
“You may, indeed, my lord.”
“Hear me. You know the high opinion I entertain of your ability and knowledge, and that, from the hour in which you were attached to my household, you have possessed my most unbounded confidence, — never, for one instant, have I doubted your great skill and perfect acquaintance with your profession; but I conjure you, if a consultation be necessary—”
“My lord, that would have been my first thought, had I seen the slightest reason for such a step; but, up to the present moment, it would be both useless and unnecessary. And, besides, I should be somewhat tenacious of introducing strangers into the house until I knew whether your orders of yesterday—”
“But how has all this happened?” said Rodolph, interrupting the black. “Who saved me from drowning in that horrid cellar? I have a confused recollection of having heard the Chourineur’s voice there; was I mistaken?”
“Not at all mistaken, my lord. But let the brave fellow, to whom all praise is due, relate the affair in which he was the principal actor himself.”
“Where is he? Where is he?”
The doctor looked about for the recently elected sick-nurse, and at length found him, thoroughly silenced and shamed by his late tumble, ensconced behind the curtains of the bed.
“Here he is,” said the doctor; “he looks somewhat shamefaced.”
“Come forward, my brave fellow!” said Rodolph, extending his hand to his preserver.
The confusion of the poor Chourineur was still further increased from having, when behind his curtain, heard the black doctor address Rodolph continually as “my lord,” or “your royal highness.”
“Approach, my friend, — my deliverer!” said Rodolph, “and give me your hand.”
“I beg pardon, sir, — I mean, my lord, — no, highness, — no—”
“Call me M. Rodolph, as you used to do; I like it better.”
“And so do I, — it comes so much easier to one. But be so good as to excuse my hand; I have done so much work lately, that—”
“Your hand, I tell you, — your hand!”
Overcome by this kind and persevering command, the Chourineur timidly extended his black and horny palm, which Rodolph warmly shook.
“Now, then, sit down, and tell me all about it, — how you discovered the cellar. But I think I can guess. The Schoolmaster?”
“We have him in safety,” said the black doctor.
“Yes, he and the Chouette, tied together like two rolls of tobacco. A pair of pretty creatures they look, as ever you would wish to see, and, I doubt not, sick enough of each other’s company by this time.”
“And my poor Murphy! What a selfish wretch must I be to think only of myself! Where is he wounded, David?”
“In the right side, my lord; but, fortunately, towards the lower false rib.”
“Oh, I must have a deep and terrible revenge for this! David, I depend upon your assistance.”
“My lord knows full well that I am wholly devoted to him, both body and soul,” replied the negro, coldly.
“But how, my noble fellow, were you able to arrive here in time?” said Rodolph to the Chourineur.
“Why, if you please, my lor — no, sir — highness — Rodolph — I had better begin by the beginning—”
“Quite right. I am listening, — go on. But mind, you are only to call me M. Rodolph.”
“Very well. You know that last night you told me, after you returned from the country, where you had gone with poor Goualeuse, ‘Try and find the Schoolmaster in the Cité; tell him you know of a capital “put-up,” that you have refused to join it, but that if he will take your place he has only to be to-morrow (that’s to-day) at the barrier of Bercy, at the Panier-Fleuri, and there he will see the man who has “made the plant” (qui a nourri le poupard).’”
“Well.”
“On l
eaving you, I pushed on briskly for the Cité. I goes to the ogress’s, — no Schoolmaster; then to the Rue Saint Eloi; on to the Rue aux Fêves; then to the Rue de la Vieille Draperie, — couldn’t find my man. At last I stumbled upon him and that old devil’s kin, Chouette, in the front of Notre Dame, at the shop of a tailor, who is a ‘fence’ and thief; they were ‘sporting the blunt’ which they had prigged from the tall gentleman in black, who wanted to do something to you; they bought themselves some toggery. The Chouette bargained for a red shawl, — an old monster! I told my tale to the Schoolmaster and he snapped at it, and said he would be at the rendezvous accordingly. So far so good. This morning, according to your orders, I ran here to bring you the answer. You said to me, ‘My lad, return to-morrow before daybreak; you must pass the day in the house, and in the evening you will see something which will be worth seeing.’ You did not let out more than that, but I was ‘fly,’ and said to myself, ‘This is a “dodge” to catch the Schoolmaster to-morrow, by laying a right bait for him. He is a —— scoundrel; he murdered the cattle-dealer, and, as they say, another person besides, in the Rue du Roule. I see all about it—’”
Receiver of stolen goods.
“My mistake was not to have told you all, my good fellow; then this horrible result would not have occurred.”
“That was your affair, M. Rodolph; all that concerned me was to serve you; for, truth to say, I don’t know how or why, but, as I have told you before, I feel as if I were your bulldog. But that’s enough. I said, then, ‘M. Rodolph pays me for my time, so my time is his, and I will employ it for him.’ Then an idea strikes me: the Schoolmaster is cunning, he may suspect a trap. M. Rodolph will propose to him the job for to-morrow, it is true, but the ‘downy cove’ is likely enough to come to-day and lurk about, and reconnoitre the ground, and if he is suspicious of M. Rodolph he will bring some other ‘cracksman’ (robber) with him, and do the trick on his own account. To prevent this, I said to myself, ‘I must go and plant myself somewhere where I may get a view of the walls, the garden-gate, — there is no other entrance. If I find a snug corner, as it rains, I will remain there all day, perhaps all night, and to-morrow morning I shall be all right and ready to go to M. Rodolph’s.’ So I goes to the Allée des Veuves to place myself, and what should I see but a small tavern, not ten paces from your door! I entered and took my seat near the window, in a room on the ground floor. I called for a quart of drink and a quart of nuts, saying I expected some friends, — a humpbacked man and a tall woman. I chose them because it would appear more natural. I was very comfortably seated, and kept my eye on the door. It rained cats and dogs; no one passed; night came on—”
“But,” interrupted Rodolph, “why did you not go at once to my house?”
“You told me to come the next day morning, M. Rodolph, and I didn’t dare return there sooner; I should have looked like an intruder, — a sneak (brosseur), as the troopers call it. You understand? Well, there I was at the window of the wine-shop, cracking my nuts and drinking my liquor, when, through the fog, I saw the Chouette approach, accompanied by Bras Rouge’s brat, little Tortillard. ‘Ah, ah!’ said I to myself, ‘now the farce begins!’ Well, the little hound of a child hid himself in one of the ditches of the Allée, and was evidently on the lookout. As for that —— , the Chouette, she takes off her bonnet, puts it into her pocket, and rings the gate-bell. Our poor friend, M. Murphy, opens the door, and the one-eyed mother of mischief tosses up her arms and makes her way into the garden. I could have kicked myself for not being able to make out what the Chouette was up to. At last out she comes, puts on her bonnet, says two words to Tortillard, who returns to his hole, and then ‘cuts her stick.’ I say to myself, ‘Caution! no blunder now! Tortillard has come with the Chouette; then the Schoolmaster and M. Rodolph are at Bras Rouge’s. The Chouette has come out to reconnoitre about the house; then, sure as a gun, they’ll “try it on” this very night! If they do, M. Rodolph, who believes they will not go to work till to-morrow, is quite over-reached; and if he is over-reached, I ought to go to Bras Rouge’s and see for him. True; but then suppose that the Schoolmaster arrives in the meantime, — that’s to be thought of. Suppose I go to the house and see M. Murphy, — mind your eye! that urchin Tortillard is near the door; he will hear me ring the bell, see me, and give the word to the Chouette; and if she returns, that will spoil all; and the more particularly as perhaps M. Rodolph has, after all, made his arrangements for this evening.’ Confound it! these yes and no bothered my brain tremendously. I was quite bewildered, and saw nothing clear before me. I didn’t know what to do for the best, so I said, ‘I’ll walk out, and perhaps the clear air will brighten my thoughts a bit.’ I went out, and the open air cleared my brain; so I took off my blouse and my neck-handkerchief, I went to the ditch where Tortillard lay, and taking the young devil’s kin by the cuff of his neck, — how he did wriggle, and twist, and scuffle, and scratch! — I put him into my blouse, tying up one end with the sleeves and the bottom tightly with my cravat. He could breathe very well. Well, then I took the bundle under my arm, and passing a low, damp garden, surrounded by a little wall, I threw the brat Tortillard into the midst of a cabbage-bed. He squeaked like a sucking-pig, but nobody could hear him two steps off. I cut off; it was time. I climbed up one of the high trees in the Allée, just in front of your door, and over the ditch in which Tortillard had been stationed. Ten minutes afterwards I heard footsteps; it was raining still, and the night was very dark. I listened, — it was the Chouette. ‘Tortillard! Tortillard!’ says she, in a low voice. ‘It rains, and the little brat is tired of waiting,’ said the Schoolmaster, swearing; ‘if I catch him, I’ll skin him alive!’ ‘Fourline, take care!’ replied the Chouette. ‘Perhaps he has gone to warn us of something that has happened, — maybe, some trap for us. The young fellow would not make the attempt till ten o’clock.’ ‘That’s the very reason,’ replies the Schoolmaster; ‘it is now only seven o’clock. You saw the money, — nothing venture, nothing have. Give me the ripping chisel and the jemmy—’”
“What instruments are they?” asked Rodolph.
“They came from Bras Rouge’s. Oh, he has a well-furnished house! In a crack the door is opened. ‘Stay where you are,’ said the Schoolmaster to the Chouette; ‘keep a bright lookout, and give me the signal if you hear anything.’ ‘Put your “pinking-iron” in the buttonhole of your waistcoat, that you may have it handy,’ said the old hag. The Schoolmaster entered the garden, and I instantly, coming down from the tree, fell on the Chouette. I silenced her with two blows of my fist, — my new style, — and she fell without a word. I ran into the garden, but, thunder and lightning, M. Rodolph! it was too late—”
“Poor Murphy!”
“He was struggling on the ground with the Schoolmaster at the entrance, and, although wounded, he held his voice and made no cry for help. Excellent man! he is like a good dog, bites, but doesn’t bark. Well, I went bang, heads or tails, at it, hitting the Schoolmaster on the shoulder, which was the only place I could at the moment touch. ‘Vive la Charte! it’s I!’ ‘The Chourineur!’ shouts M. Murphy. ‘Ah, villain! where do you come from?’ cries out the Schoolmaster, quite off his guard at that. ‘What’s that to you?’ says I, fixing one of his legs between my knees, and grasping his ‘fin’ with my other hand; it was that in which he held his dagger. ‘And M. Rodolph?’ asked M. Murphy of me, whilst doing all in his power to aid me—”
“Worthy, kind-hearted creature!” murmured Rodolph, in a tone of deep distress.
“‘I know nothing of him,’ says I; ‘this scoundrel, perhaps, has killed him.’ And then I went with redoubled strength at the Schoolmaster, who tried to stick me with his larding-pin; but I lay with my breast on his arm, and so he only had his fist at liberty. ‘You are, then, quite alone?’ says I to M. Murphy, whilst we still struggled desperately with the Schoolmaster. ‘There are people close at hand,’ he replied; ‘but they did not hear me cry out.’ ‘Is it far off?’ ‘They would be here in ten minutes.’ ‘Le
t us call out for help; there are passers-by who will come and help us.’ ‘No, as we have got him we must hold him here. But I am growing weak, I am wounded.’ ‘Thunder and lightning! then run and get assistance, if you have strength left; I will try and hold him.’ M. Murphy then disengaged himself, and I was alone with the Schoolmaster. I don’t want to brag, but, by Jove! these were moments when I was not having a holiday. We were half on the ground, half on the bottom step of the flight. I had my arms round the neck of the villain, my cheek against his cheek; and he was puffing like a bull, I heard his teeth grind. It was dark, it rained pouring; the lamp left in the passage lighted us a little. I had twisted one of my legs around his, but, in spite of that, his loins were so powerful that he moved himself and me on to the bare ground. He tried to bite me, but couldn’t; I never felt so strong. Thunder! my heart beat, but it was in the right place. I said, ‘I am like a man who is grappling with a mad dog, to prevent him from fastening on some passer-by.’ ‘Let me go, and I will do you no harm,’ said the Schoolmaster, in an exhausted voice. ‘What! a coward?’ says I to him. ‘So, then, your pluck is in your strength? So you wouldn’t have stabbed the cattle-dealer at Poissy, and robbed him, if he had only been as strong as me, eh?’ ‘No,’ says he; ‘but I will kill you as I did him.’ And saying that, he made so violent a heave, and gave so powerful a jerk with his legs at the same time, that he half threw me over; if I had not kept a tight hold of his wrist which held the stiletto, I was done for. At this moment my left hand was seized with the cramp, and I was compelled to loosen my hold; that nearly spoiled all, and I said to myself, ‘I am now undermost and he at top, — he’ll kill me. Never mind, I had rather be in my place than his; M. Rodolph said that I had heart and honour.’ I felt it was all over with me, and at that moment I saw the Chouette standing close by us, with her glaring eye and red shawl. Thunder and lightning! I thought I had the nightmare. ‘Finette,’ cries the Schoolmaster, ‘I have let fall the knife; pick it up, there, there, under him, and strike him home, in the back, between the shoulders; quick! quick!’ ‘Only wait, only wait till I find it, till I see it, fourline.’ And then the cursed Chouette turned and poked about us, like an old bird of mischief as she was. At last she found the dagger and sprung towards it, but as I was flat on my belly I gave her a kick in the stomach, which sent her neck over crop; she got up, and in a desperate rage. I could do no more; I still held on and struggled with the Schoolmaster, but he kept giving me such dreadful blows on my jaw that I was about to let go my hold, when I saw three or four armed men who came down the stairs, and M. Murphy, pale as ashes, and with difficulty supporting himself with the assistance of the doctor here. They seized hold of the Schoolmaster and the Chouette, and soon bound them hand and foot. That was not all, I still wanted M. Rodolph. I sprang at the Chouette; remembering the tooth of the poor dear Goualeuse, I grasped her arm and twisted it, saying, ‘Where is M. Rodolph?’ She bore it well, and silently. I took a second turn, and then she screeched out, ‘At Bras Rouge’s, in the vault at the Bleeding Heart!’ All right! As I went, I meant to take Tortillard from his cabbage-bed, as it was on my road. I looked for him, but only found my blouse, — he had gnawed his way out with his teeth. I reached the Bleeding Heart, and I laid hold of Bras Rouge. ‘Where is the young man who came here this evening with the Schoolmaster?’ ‘Don’t squeeze so hard, and I’ll tell you. They wanted to play him a trick and shut him up in my cellar; we’ll go now and let him out.’ We went down, but there was no one to be seen. ‘He must have gone out whilst my back was turned,’ says Bras Rouge; ‘you see plain enough he is not here.’ I was going away sad enough, when, by the light of the lantern, I saw at the bottom of the cellar another door. I ran towards it and opened the door, and had, as it were, a pail of water thrown at me. I saw your two poor arms in the air. I fished you out and brought you here on my back, as there was nobody at hand to get a coach. That’s all my tale, M. Rodolph; and I may say, without bragging, that I am satisfied with myself.”
