The Mysteries of Paris V2

Ferrand. "Then," said he to Louise, "you did not dare to c

ctim; and besides, I feared that, in his anger, my father would forget that

ct less brutal tow

s; he prayed the Cure to admonish me; he said that sooner or later I should be lost; that my manners were too free with his clerks; that I was idle; that he kept me

ith M. Ferrand, how did he explain h

on, turned still more against me; my life was such a burden that several times I was on the point of destroying myself; but I thought of my father, my mother, my brothers and sisters, whom I helped to support. I resigned myself; in the midst of my degradation I found a consolation-at least my father was saved

passed his hand over his face, collected his thoughts, and said to his daughter, "It

d was informed

ment of despair. Rudolp

n to the end," said

you wish to become of me now? If you have no pity on me, have at least some pity on your child!' 'What a horror!' cried he, raising his hands toward heaven. 'How, wretch! You have the audacity to accuse me of being corrupt enough to desc

ed horror-struck; such a

d Rudolph, "this pas

cted his features; he descended from the bench where he was seated, opened quickly a drawer

houghts, seized him by

oing? You will ruin you

ruggling; "I shall commit two crimes instead

s our savior!

mpletely wild, and contending with Rudolph. At the end of a second, he succeed

, and said, "Father, he is our benefactor; you

overed his face with his hands, and, withou

atience; I understand your fury, I partake of your hatred; bu

nd respected man, they will laugh in our face- ah, ah, ah!" and he laughed convulsively. "And they will be right. Where are our proofs-yes, our proofs? The

y. "Let your daughter speak; moments are precious-the magistra

o'clock in the morning, in the cabinet of M. Ferrand. The priest was to breakfast with him that morning; he entered a

did he s

me to save her. And to think that I, through pity, have received such a wretch into my house.' 'How,' said the priest to me, with indignation, 'in spite of the salutary counsels which your master has given you so often before me, you ha

once unmask the scou

r'-I cried. 'Not a word more, unworthy creature!' said M. Ferrand, interrupting me. 'You have heard the worthy priest: pity wo

M. Ferrand appeared. 'Is your trunk ready?' said he. 'Have mercy!' I cried, falling at his feet 'Do not send me away in the state in which I am; what will become of me? I can find no other place.' 'So much the better; God will thus punish your conduct and your lies.' 'You dare to say that I lie!' cried I indignantly; 'you dare to say you are not the cause of my ruin?' 'Leave my house at once, you infamous creatu

ion. Yet, for the five months which followed this cruel scene, I was very unhappy, very cruelly treated. Sometimes only M. G

his time that he c

the Temple or the Arsenal; there wa

of confiding your sorro

do

eclared he would not keep me any longer with him. I was thus about to be deprived of the small resource that aided our family to live. Cursed, driven away by my father-for, after the falsehoods that I had told him to dissipate his suspicions, he would not believe me to be the victim of M. Ferrand-what was to become of me? where was I

and in a trembling voice, "I had heard from the portress t

letter written on coarse paper, in a disguised hand, and on which he had remarked the traces of tears. "And

lph with affright. "H

of Mrs. Pipelet when this letter was hand

d. I was half crazy. I wished to ask his fearful advice. I left my master's house to meet him; but my reason returned. I regained the house; I did not see him. Thus

well, after having crossed the dining-room, which was lighted, I entered into the saloon in the dark, then to the cabinet, as I said before. The door of his chamber opened at the moment I placed the key on the table. Hardly had my master perceived me by the light which was burning in his chamber, than he closed the door quickly on a person whom I could not see. Then he threw himself on me,

nothing of hi

room, I should have taken care not to have entered t

ut of the office, wh

e passed into his office. This moderation surprised me, after the violence of the previous evening. I went on with my usual duties; I went to put in order his sleeping apartment. In arranging some clothes in a dark closet near the alcove, I was suddenly taken very ill; I felt that I was about to faint. In falling, I grasped at a cloak which was hanging against the wall. I dragged it along with me; it covered me completely as I lay upon the floor. When I came to myself, the glass door of thi

who was talking with

sir; I did not

t did th

daughters are left, all as great villains one as the other. It is said that at night, to rob on both sides of the Seine, they come down in their boats sometimes as far as Barky. They are folks who will kill the first comer for a crown; but we have no need of them; it suffices if they will give hospitality to your country lady. The Martial (the name of my pirates) will pass in her eyes for an honest family of fishermen. I will go on your account, and make two or three visits to your young lady; I will order her certain potions, and at the end of

crime and infamy?" said Rud

Farewell, accomplice; do not forget the Island of Asnieres, the fisher Martial, and Dr. Vincent. Thanks to these three magical words, your country girl has only eight days left.' 'Stop,' said M. Ferrand, 'while I go and unbolt the door of my cabinet, and see if there is any one in the ante-chamber, that you may go out by the garden, as you came in.' M. Ferrand went out a moment, and then returned, and finally I heard him go o

I have treated you as you deserved before the cure of the parish, such an affair as this will be a scandal to my house; and, moreover, your family will be in despair. I consent, under these circumstances to come to your assistance.' 'Ah, sir,' I cried, 'these words of kindness on your part make me forget all.' 'Forget what?' asked he sharply. 'Nothing, nothing; pardon me, sir,' answered I, fearing to irritate him, and believing in his professions of pity. 'Listen to me,' said he; 'you will go to see your father to-day; you will announce to him that I am going to send you

ssed of a secret of great importance to him, he wished to get rid of you. He had probably some interest in deceiving h

where I shall send you. 'No, no, I will not go; I prefer to remain in Paris, near my family; I had rather confess all, die with shame, if it is necessary.' 'You refuse me!' said M. Ferrand, restraining his anger, and looking at me with attention. 'Why have you changed your mind so quickly? Just now you accepted.' I saw that if he suspected me I was lost; I answered that I did not think that he meant me to leave Paris and my family. 'But you will dishonor your family, wretch,' cried he; and n

* *

moment of bitter joy: it was when I pressed my child in my

ed fixedly at her and said: "She weeps-she weeps; why, then, does she weep? Oh, yes; I know, I know-the notary. Continue, my poor Louise

t culpable; is i

s,

row-but I feared t

believe you-he is

ardon

es

ru

-go-although-I cannot-say-do you

d at Rudolph

him compose him

a child can hardly be heard; and yet it seemed to me that it was very cold. I had no light. I waited until dawn, trying to w

burst into

ed of having killed it. Then I had but one thought, that of concealing it from all eyes; in that way my dishonor would not be known; I would no longer have to dread the anger of my father; I should escape the vengeance of Ferrand; then I could leave his house, procure another place, and continue to earn something toward the su

at tortures!" said

prehend how I had the nerve to do all this. At nine o'clock, Mrs. Seraphin came to know why I was not yet up. I said that I was so ill, that I begged her to let me remain in bed all day; the next day I would quit the house, since M. Ferrand sent me away. At the end of one hour he came himself. 'You are worse; this is the consequence of your self-will,' said he. 'If you had profited by my offers, to-day you would have been established with kind people, who would have taken every care of you; however, I will not be so inhuman as to let you suffer; to-night Dr. Vincent will

ught my courage would have failed me when I covered it with the earth. A mother interring her child! At length I succeeded. Oh! what it cost me! I placed the snow over the grave, so that nothing should be seen. The moon gave me light. When all was finished, I could not make up my mind to come away. Poor little thing! in the frozen ground-under the snow. Although it was dead, it seemed to me that it must feel the cold. At length I returned to my chamber. I went to my bed with a violent fever. In the morning M. Ferrand sent to know how I was. I answered that I felt rather better, and that I should certainly be ready to leave for the country the next day. I remained all this day still in