Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  “And I, I would sooner be there!” replied Louise.

  “Be silent, unhappy girl, you pain me. I was wrong to say so; I have been too harsh. Come, speak; but in the name of Heaven, do not lie. However frightful the truth may be, yet tell it me all; let me learn it from your lips, and it will be less cruel. Speak, for, alas! our moments are counted, they are waiting for you down below. Ah, just Heaven, what a sad, sad parting!”

  “My father, I will tell you all, — everything,” replied Louise, taking courage; “but promise me — and our kind benefactor must promise me also — not to repeat this to any person, — to any person. If he knew that I had told! — oh,” and she shuddered as she spoke, “you would be destroyed, destroyed as I am; for you know not the power and ferocity of this man.”

  “What man?”

  “My master!”

  “The notary?”

  “Yes,” said Louise in a whisper, and looking around her as if she feared to be overheard.

  “Take courage,” said Rodolph; “no matter how cruel and powerful this man may be, we will defeat him! Besides, if I reveal what you are about to tell us, it would only be in the interest of yourself or your father.”

  “And me too, Louise, if I speak, it would be in endeavouring to save you. But what has this villain done?”

  “This is not all,” said Louise, after a moment’s reflection; “in this recital there will be a person implicated who has rendered me a great service, who has shown the utmost kindness to my father and family; this person was in the employ of M. Ferrand when I entered his service, and he made me take an oath not to disclose his name.”

  Rodolph, believing that she referred to Germain, said to Louise:

  “If you mean François Germain, make your mind tranquil, his secret shall be kept by your father and myself.”

  Louise looked at Rodolph with surprise.

  “Do you know him?” said she.

  “What! was the good, excellent young man, who lived here for three months, employed at the notary’s when you went to his service?” said Morel. “The first time you met him here, you appeared as if you had never seen him before.”

  “It was agreed between us, father; he had serious reasons why he did not wish it known that he was working at M. Ferrand’s. It was I who told him of the room to let on the fourth story here, knowing that he would be a good neighbour for you.”

  “But,” inquired Rodolph, “who, then, placed your daughter at the notary’s?”

  “During the illness of my wife, I said to Madame Burette — the woman who advanced money on pledges, who lived in this house — that Louise wished to get into service in order to assist us. Madame Burette knew the notary’s housekeeper, and gave me a letter to her, in which she recommended Louise as a very good girl. Cursed letter! it was the cause of all our misfortune. This was the way, sir, that my daughter got into the notary’s service.”

  “Although I know some of the causes which excited M. Ferrand’s hatred against your father,” said Rodolph to Louise, “I beg you to tell me as shortly as possible what passed between you and the notary after your entering into his service; it may, perhaps, be useful for your defence.”

  “When I first went into M. Ferrand’s house,” said Louise, “I had nothing to complain of with respect to him. I had a great deal to do, and the housekeeper often scolded me, and the house was very dull; but I endured everything very patiently. Service is service, and, perhaps, elsewhere I should have other disagreeables. M. Ferrand was a very stern-looking person; he went to mass, and frequently had priests in his house. I did not at all distrust him; for at first he hardly ever looked at me, spoke short and cross, especially when there were any strangers. Except the porter who lived at the entrance, in the same part of the house as the office is in, I was the only servant, with Madame Séraphin, the housekeeper. The pavilion that we occupied was isolated between the court and the garden. My bedroom was high up. I was often afraid, being, as I was, always alone, either in the kitchen, which is underground, or in my bedroom. One day I had worked very late mending some things that were required in a hurry, and then I was going to bed, when I heard footsteps moving quietly in the little passage at the end of which my room was situated; some one stopped at my door. At first I supposed it was the housekeeper; but, as no one entered, I began to be alarmed. I dared not move, but I listened; however, I heard no one; yet I was sure that there was some one behind my door. I asked twice who was there, but no one answered; I then pushed my chest of drawers against the door, which had neither lock nor bolt. I still listened, but nothing stirred; so at the end of half an hour, which seemed very long to me, I threw myself on my bed, and the night passed quietly. The next morning I asked the housekeeper’s leave to have a bolt put on my door, which had no fastening, telling her of my fright on the previous night, and she told me I had been dreaming, and that, if I wanted a bolt, I must ask M. Ferrand for it. When I asked him, he shrugged up his shoulders, and said I was crazy; so I did not dare say any more about it. Some time after this, the misfortune about the diamond happened. My father in his despair did not know what to do. I told Madame Séraphin of his distress, and she replied; ‘Monsieur is so charitable, perhaps he will do something for your father.’ The same afternoon, when I was waiting at table, M. Ferrand said to me, suddenly, ‘Your father is in want of thirteen hundred francs; go and tell him to come to my office this evening, and he shall have the money.’ At this mark of kindness I burst into tears, and did not know how to thank him, when he said, with his usual bluntness, ‘Very good, very good; oh, what I do is nothing!’ The same evening, after my work, I came to my father to tell him the good news; the next day—”

  “I had the thirteen hundred francs, giving him my acceptance in blank at three months’ date,” said Morel. “I did like Louise, and wept with gratitude, called this man my benefactor. Oh, what a wretch must he be thus to destroy the gratitude and veneration I entertained for him!”

  “This precaution of making you give him a blank acceptance, at a date falling due so soon that you could not meet it, must have raised your suspicion?” said Rodolph.

  “No, sir, I only thought the notary took it for security, that was all; besides, he told me that I need not think about repaying this sum in less than two years; but that, every three months, the bill should be renewed for the sake of greater regularity. It was, however, duly presented here on the day it became due, but, as you may suppose, was not paid. The usual course of law was followed up, and judgment was obtained against me in the name of a third party. All this I was desired not to feel any uneasiness respecting, as it had been caused by an error on the part of the officer in whose hands the bill had been placed.”

  “His motive is very evident,” said Rodolph; “he wished to have you entirely in his power.”

  “Alas, sir, it was from the very day in which he obtained judgment that he commenced! But, go on, Louise, go on. I scarcely know where I am. My head seems giddy and bewildered, and at times my memory entirely fails me. I fear my senses are leaving me, and that I shall become mad. Oh, this is too much — too hard to bear!”

  Rodolph having succeeded in tranquillising the lapidary, Louise thus proceeded:

  “With a view to prove my gratitude to M. Ferrand for all his kindness towards my family, I redoubled my endeavours to serve him well and faithfully. From that time the housekeeper appeared to take an utter aversion to me, and to embrace every opportunity of rendering me uncomfortable, continually exposing me to anger by withholding from me the various orders given by M. Ferrand. All this made me extremely miserable, and I would gladly have sought another place; but the knowledge of my father’s pecuniary obligation to my master prevented my following my inclinations.

  “The money had now been lent about three months, and, though M. Ferrand still continued harsh and unkind to me in the presence of Madame Séraphin, he began casting looks of a peculiar and embarrassing description at me whenever he could do so unobserved, and would smile and seem am
used when he perceived the confusion it occasioned me.”

  “Take notice, I beg, sir, that it was at this very time the necessary legal proceedings, for enabling him at any moment to deprive me of my liberty, were going on.”

  “One day,” said Louise, in continuation, “the housekeeper went out directly after dinner, contrary to her usual custom; the clerks, none of whom lived in the house, were dismissed from further duty for the day, and retired to their respective homes; the porter was sent out on a message, leaving M. Ferrand and myself alone in the house. I was doing some needlework Madame Séraphin had given me, and by her orders was sitting in a small antechamber, from whence I could hear if I was wanted. After some time the bell of my master’s bedroom rang; I went there immediately, and upon entering found him standing before the fire. As I approached he turned around suddenly and caught me in his arms. Alarm and surprise at first deprived me of power to move; but, spite of his great strength, I at last struggled so successfully, that I managed to free myself from his grasp, and, running back with all speed to the room I had just quitted, I hastily shut the door, and held it with all my force. Unfortunately, the key was on the other side.”

  “You hear, sir, — you hear,” said Morel to Rodolph, “the manner in which this generous benefactor behaved to the daughter of the man he affected to serve!”

  “At the end of a few minutes,” continued Louise, “the door yielded to the efforts of M. Ferrand. Fortunately, the lamp by which I had been working was within my reach, and I precipitately extinguished it. The antechamber was at some distance from his bedchamber, and we were, therefore, left in utter darkness. At first he called me by name; but, finding that I did not reply, he exclaimed, in a voice trembling with rage and passion, ‘If you try to escape from me, your father shall go to prison for the thirteen hundred francs he owes, and is unable to pay.’ I besought him to have pity on me, promised to do all in my power to serve him faithfully, and with gratitude for all his goodness to my family, but declared that no consideration on earth should induce me to disgrace myself or those I belonged to.”

  “There spoke my Louise,” said Morel, “or, rather, as she would have spoken in her days of proud innocence. How, then, if such were your sentiments — But go on, go on.”

  “I was still concealed by the darkness, which I trusted would preserve me, when I heard the door closed which led from the antechamber, and which my master had contrived to find by groping along the wall. Thus, having me wholly in his power, he returned to his chamber for a light, with which he quickly returned, and then commenced a fresh attack, the particulars of which, my dearest father, I will not venture to describe; suffice it, that promises, threats, violence, all were tried; but anger, fear, and despair armed me with fresh strength, and, while I continually eluded his grasp, and fled for safety from room to room, his rage at my determined resistance knew no bounds. In his fury he even struck me with such frenzied violence as to leave my features streaming with blood.”

  “You hear! you hear!” exclaimed the lapidary, raising his clasped hands towards heaven, “and are crimes like this to go unpunished? Shall such a monster escape and not pay a heavy penalty for his wickedness?”

  “Trust me,” said Rodolph, who seemed profoundly meditating on what he heard, “trust me, this man’s time and hour will come. But continue your painful narration, my poor girl, and shrink not from telling us even its blackest details.”

  “The struggle between us had now gone on so long that my strength began to fail me. I was conscious of my own inability to resist further, when the porter, who had returned home, rang the bell twice, — the usual signal when letters arrived and required to be fetched from his hands. Fearing that, if I did not obey the summons, the porter would bring the letters himself, M. Ferrand said, ‘Go; utter but one word, and to-morrow sees your father in prison. If you endeavour to quit this house, the consequences will fall on him; and, as for you, I will take care no one shall take you into their house, for, without exactly affirming it, I will contrive to make every one think you have robbed me. Then, should any person refer to me for your character, I shall speak of you as an idle, unworthy girl whom I could keep no longer.’

  “The following day after this scene, spite of the menaces of my master, I ran home to complain to my father of the unkind usage I received, without daring, however, to tell him all. His first desire was for me to quit the house of M. Ferrand without delay. But, then, a prison would close upon my poor parent; added to which, my small earnings had become indispensably necessary to our family since the illness of my mother, and the bad character promised me by M. Ferrand might possibly have prevented me from finding another service for a very long time.”

  “Yes,” said Morel, with gloomy bitterness, “we were selfish and cowardly enough to allow our poor child to return to that accursed roof. Oh, I spoke truly when I said, ‘Want, want, what mean, what degrading acts do you not force us to commit!’”

  “Alas, dear father, did you not try by every possible means to procure these thirteen hundred francs? And, that being impossible, there was nothing left but to submit ourselves to our fate.”

  “Go on, go on; your parents have been your executioners, and we are far more guilty than yourself of all the fearful consequences!” exclaimed the lapidary, concealing his face with his hands.

  “When I next saw my master,” said Louise, “he had resumed the harsh and severe manner with which he ordinarily treated me. He made not the slightest reference to the scene I have just related, while his housekeeper persisted in her accustomed tormenting and unkind behaviour towards me, giving me scarcely sufficient food to maintain my strength, and even locking the bread up so that I could not help myself to a morsel; she would even carry her cruelty so far as to wilfully spoil and damage the morsels left by herself and M. Ferrand for my repasts, I always taking my meals after my master and the housekeeper, who invariably sat down to table together. My nights were as painful as my days. I durst not indulge in sleep, lest I should be surprised by the entrance of the notary. I had no means of securing my chamber door, and the chest of drawers with which I used to fasten myself in had been taken away, leaving me only a small table, a chair, and my box. With these articles I barricaded the door as well as I could, and merely lay down in my clothes, ready to start up at the least noise. Some time elapsed, however, without my having any further alarm as regarded M. Ferrand, who seemed to have altogether forgotten me, and seldom bestowed even a look on me. By degrees my fears died away, and I became almost persuaded I had nothing more to dread from the persecutions of my master. One Sunday I had permission to visit my home, and with extreme delight hastened to announce the happy change that had taken place to my parents. Oh, how we all rejoiced to think so! Up to that moment, my dear father, you know all that occurred. What I have still to tell you,” murmured Louise, as her voice sunk into an inarticulate whisper, “is so dreadful that I have never dared reveal it.”

  “I was sure, ah, too sure,” cried Morel, with a wildness of manner and rapidity of utterance which startled and alarmed Rodolph, “that you were hiding something from me. Too plainly did I perceive, by your pale and altered countenance, that your mind was burthened with some heavy secret. Many a time have I said so to your mother; but she, poor thing! would not listen to me, and even blamed me for making myself unnecessarily miserable. So you see, that weakly, and selfish to escape from trouble ourselves, we allowed our poor, helpless child to remain under this monster’s roof. And to what have we reduced our poor girl? Why, to be classed with the felons and criminals of a prison! See, see what comes of parents sacrificing their children. And, then, too, be it remembered — after all — who knows? True, we are poor — very poor, and may be guilty — yes, yes, quite right, guilty of throwing our daughter into shame and disgrace. But, then, see how wretched and distressed we were! Besides, such as we—” Then, as if suddenly striving to collect his bewildered ideas, Morel struck his forehead, exclaiming, “Alas! I know not what I say. My brai
n burns and my senses seem deserting me. A sort of bewilderment seems to come over me as though I were stupefied with drink. Alas, alas! I am going mad!” So saying, the unhappy man buried his face between his hands.

  Unwilling that Louise should perceive the extent of his apprehensions as regarded the agitated state of the lapidary, and how much alarm he felt at his wild, incoherent language, Rodolph gravely replied:

  “You are unjust, Morel; it was not for herself alone, but for her aged and afflicted parent, her children, and you, that your poor wife dreaded the consequences of Louise’s quitting the notary’s house. Accuse no one; but let all your just anger, your bitter curses, fall on the head that alone deserves it, — on that hypocritical monster who offered a weak and helpless girl the alternative of infamy or ruin; perhaps destruction; perhaps death to those she most tenderly loved, — on the fiend who could thus abuse the power he held, thus prey upon the tenderest, holiest feelings of a loving daughter, thus shamelessly outrage every moral and religious duty. But patience; as I before remarked, Providence frequently reserves for crimes so black as this a fearful and astounding retribution.”

  As Rodolph uttered these words, he spoke with a tone so expressive of his own conviction of the certain vengeance of Heaven, that Louise gazed at her preserver with a surprise not unmingled with fear.

  “Go on, my poor girl,” resumed Rodolph, addressing Louise; “conceal nothing from us: it is more important than you can be aware that you should relate the most minute details of your sad story.”

  Thus encouraged, Louise proceeded:

  “I began, therefore, as I told you, to regain my tranquillity, when one evening both M. Ferrand and his housekeeper went out. They did not dine at home. I was quite alone in the house. As usual, my allowance of bread, wine, and water was left for me, and every place carefully locked. When I had finished my work, I took the food placed for me, and, having made my meal, I retired to my bedroom, thinking it less dull than remaining down-stairs by myself. I took care to leave a light in the hall for my master, as when he dined out no one ever sat up for him. Once in my chamber, I seated myself and commenced my sewing; but, contrary to my usual custom, I found the greatest difficulty in keeping myself awake. A heavy drowsiness seemed to steal over, and a weight like lead seemed to press on my eyelids. Alas, dear father!” cried Louise, interrupting herself as though frightened at her own recital, “I feel sure you will not credit what I am about to say, you will believe I am uttering falsehoods; and yet, here, over the lifeless body of my poor little sister, I swear to the truth of each word I speak.”