by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER LIII. THE EXAMINATION.
"Mistress Frances Baudoin?" asked the magistrate.
"Yes, sir--it is I," said Frances. Then, perceiving the pale andtrembling sewing-girl, who did not dare to come forward, she stretchedout her arms to her. "Oh, my poor child!" she exclaimed, bursting intotears; "forgive--forgive us--since it is for our sake you have sufferedthis humiliation!"
When Dagobert's wife had tenderly embraced the young sempstress, thelatter, turning towards the commissary, said to him with an expressionof sad and touching dignity: "You see, sir, that I am not a thief."
"Madame," said the magistrate, addressing Frances, "am I to understandthat the silver mug, the shawl, the sheets contained in this bundle--"
"Belong to me, sir. It was to render me a service that this dear girl,who is the best and most honest creature in the world, undertook tocarry these articles to the pawnbroker's."
"Sir," said the magistrate sternly to the policeman, "you have committeda deplorable error. I shall take care to report you, and see that youare punished. You may go, sir." Then, addressing Mother Bunch, with anair of real regret, he added: "I can only express my sorrow for what hashappened. Believe me, I deeply feel for the cruel position in which youhave been placed."
"I believe it, sir," said Mother Bunch, "and I thank you." Overcome byso many emotions, she sank upon a chair.
The magistrate was about to retire, when Dagobert, who had beenseriously reflecting for some minutes, said to him in a firm voice:"Please to hear me, Sir; I have a deposition to make."
"Speak, Sir."
"What I am about to say is very important; it is to you, in your qualityof a magistrate, that I make this declaration."
"And as a magistrate I will hear you, sir."
"I arrived here two days ago, bringing with me from Russia two girls whohad been entrusted to me by their mother--the wife of Marshal Simon."
"Of Marshal Simon, Duke de Ligny?" said the commissary, very muchsurprised.
"Yes, Sir. Well, I left them here, being obliged to get out on pressingbusiness. This morning, during my absence, they disappeared--and I amcertain I know the man who has been the cause of it."
"Now, my dear," said Frances, much alarmed.
"Sir," said the magistrate, "your declaration is a very serious one.Disappearance of persons--sequestration, perhaps. But are you quitesure?"
"These young ladies were here an hour ago; I repeat, sir, that during myabsence, they have been taken away."
"I do not doubt the sincerity of your declaration, sir; but still it isdifficult to explain so strange an abduction. Who tells you that theseyoung girls will not return? Besides, whom do you suspect? One word,before you make your accusation. Remember, it is the magistrate whohears you. On leaving this place, the law will take its course in thisaffair."
"That is what I wish, Sir; I am responsible for those young ladies totheir father. He may arrive at any moment, and I must be prepared tojustify myself."
"I understand all these reasons, sir; but still have a care you are notdeceived by unfounded suspicions. Your denunciation once made, I mayhave to act provisionally against the person accused. Now, if you shouldbe under a mistake, the consequences would be very serious for you; and,without going further," said the magistrate, pointing to Mother Bunch,with emotion, "you see what are the results of a false accusation."
"You hear, my dear," cried Frances, terrified at the resolution ofDagobert to accuse Abbe Dubois; "do not say a word more, I entreat you."
But the more the soldier reflected, the more he felt convinced thatnothing but the influence of her confessor could have induced Frances toact as she had done; so he resumed, with assurance: "I accuse my wife'sconfessor of being the principal or the accomplice in the abduction ofMarshal Simon's daughters."
Frances uttered a deep groan, and hid her face in her hands; whileMother Bunch, who had drawn nigh, endeavored to console her. Themagistrate had listened to Dagobert with extreme astonishment, and henow said to him with some severity: "Pray, sir, do not accuse unjustlya man whose position is in the highest degree respectable--a priest,sir?--yes, a priest? I warned you beforehand to reflect upon what youadvanced. All this becomes very serious, and, at your age, any levity insuch matters would be unpardonable."
"Bless me, sir!" said Dagobert, with impatience; "at my age, one hascommon sense. These are the facts. My wife is one of the best and mosthonorable of human creatures--ask any one in the neighborhood, and theywill tell you so--but she is a devotee; and, for twenty years, she hasalways seen with her confessor's eyes. She adores her son, she loves mealso; but she puts the confessor before us both."
"Sir," said the commissary, "these family details--"
"Are indispensable, as you shall see. I go out an hour ago, to lookafter this poor girl here. When I come back, the young ladies havedisappeared. I ask my wife to whom she has entrusted them, and wherethey are; she falls at my feet weeping, and says: 'Do what you will withme, but do not ask me what has become of the children. I cannot answeryou.'"
"Is thus true, madame?" cried the commissary, looking at Frances withsurprise.
"Anger, threats, entreaties, had no effect," resumed Dagobert; "toeverything she answered as mildly as a saint: 'I can tell you nothing!'Now, sir, I maintain that my wife has no interest to take away thesechildren; she is under the absolute dominion of her confessor; she hasacted by his orders and for his purposes; he is the guilty party."
Whilst Dagobert spoke, the commissary looked more and more attentivelyat Frances, who, supported by the hunchback, continued to weep bitterly.After a moment's reflection, the magistrate advanced towards Dagobert'swife, and said to her: "Madame, you have heard what your husband hasjust declared."
"Yes, sir."
"What have you to say in your justification?"
"But, sir," cried Dagobert, "it is not my wife that I accuse--I do notmean that; it is her confessor."
"Sir, you have applied to a magistrate; and the magistrate must act ashe thinks best for the discovery of the truth. Once more, madame,"he resumed, addressing Frances, "what have you to say in yourjustification?"
"Alas! nothing, sir."
"Is it true that your husband left these young girls in your charge whenhe went out?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is it true that, on his return, they were no longer to be found?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is it true that, when he asked you where they were, you told him thatyou could give him no information on the subject?"
The commissary appeared to wait for Frances' reply with kind of anxiouscuriosity.
"Yes, sir," said she, with the utmost simplicity, "that was the answer Imade my husband."
"What, madame!" said the magistrate, with an air of painfulastonishment; "that was your only answer to all the prayers and commandsof your husband? What! you refused to give him the least information? Itis neither probable nor possible."
"It is the truth, sir."
"Well, but, after all, madame, what have you done with the young ladiesthat were entrusted to your care?"
"I can tell you nothing about it, sir. If I would not answer my poorhusband, I certainly will not answer any one else."
"Well, sir," resumed Dagobert, "was I wrong? An honest, excellent womanlike that, who was always full of good sense and affection, to talk inthis way--is it natural? I repeat to you, sir that it is the work of herconfessor; act against him promptly and decidedly, we shall soon knowall, and my poor children will be restored to me."
"Madame," continued the commissary, without being able to repress acertain degree of emotion, "I am about to speak to you very severely.My duty obliges me to do so. This affair becomes so serious andcomplicated, that I must instantly commence judicial proceedings on thesubject. You acknowledge that these young ladies have been left in yourcharge, and that you cannot produce them. Now, listen to me: if yourefuse to give any explanation in the matter, it is you alone that willbe accused of their disappearance. I shall be oblige
d, though with greatregret, to take you into custody."
"Me!" cried Frances, with the utmost alarm.
"Her!" exclaimed Dagobert; "never! It is her confessor that I accuse,not my poor wife. Take her into custody, indeed!" He ran towards her, asif he would protect her.
"It is too late, sir," said the commissary. "You have made your chargefor the abduction of these two young ladies. According to your wife'sown declaration, she alone is compromised up to this point. I musttake her before the Public Prosecutor, who will decide what course topursue."
"And I say, sir," cried Dagobert, in a menacing tone, "that my wifeshall not stir from this room."
"Sir," said the commissary coolly, "I can appreciate your feelings; but,in the interest of justice, I would beg you not to oppose a necessarymeasure--a measure which, moreover, in ten minutes it would be quiteimpossible for you to prevent."
These words, spoken with calmness, recalled the soldier to himself."But, sir," said he, "I do not accuse my wife."'
"Never mind, my dear--do not think of me!" said Frances, with theangelic resignation of a martyr. "The Lord is still pleased to try mesorely; but I am His unworthy servant, and must gratefully resign myselfto His will. Let them arrest me, if they choose; I will say no more inprison than I have said already on the subject of those poor children."
"But, sir," cried Dagobert, "you see that my wife is out of her head.You cannot arrest her."
"There is no charge, proof, or indication against the other person whomyou accuse, and whose character should be his protection. If I takeyour wife, she may perhaps be restored to you after a preliminaryexamination. I regret," added the commissary, in a tone of pity, "tohave to execute such a mission, at the very moment when your son'sarrest--"
"What!" cried Dagobert, looking with speechless astonishment at his wifeand Mother Bunch; "what does he say? my son?"
"You were not then aware of it? Oh, sir, a thousand pardons!" said themagistrate, with painful emotion. "It is distressing to make you such acommunication."
"My son!" repeated Dagobert, pressing his two hands to his forehead. "Myson! arrested!"
"For a political offence of no great moment," said the commissary.
"Oh! this is too much. All comes on me at once!" cried the soldier,falling overpowered into a chair, and hiding his face with his hands.
After a touching farewell, during which, in spite of her terror, Francesremained faithful to the vow she had made to the Abbe Dubois--Dagobert,who had refused to give evidence against his wife, was left leaningupon a table, exhausted by contending emotions, and could not helpexplaining: "Yesterday, I had with me my wife, my son, my two poororphans--and now--I am alone--alone!"
The moment he pronounced these words, in a despairing tone, a mild sadvoice was heard close behind him, saying timidly: "M. Dagobert, I amhere; if you will allow me, I will remain and wait upon you."
It was Mother Bunch!
Trusting that the reader's sympathy is with the old soldier thus leftdesolate, with Agricola in his prison, Adrienne in hers, the madhouse,and Rose and Blanche Simon in theirs, the nunnery; we hasten to assurehim (or her, as the case may be), that not only will their future stepsbe traced, but the dark machinations of the Jesuits, and the thrillingscenes in which new characters will perform their varied parts, pervadedby the watching spirit of the Wandering Jew, will be revealed in PartSecond of this work, entitled: THE CHASTISEMENT.
BOOK IV.
PART SECOND.--THE CHASTISEMENT.
