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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 7 
 
 < <. - . 
 
 s 

 
 ROSCOE'S SERIES. 
 
 THE 
 
 WIDOWS' WALK; 
 
 OK, THE 
 
 of (JDume. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. OF CHARLES RABOU. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PUBLISHED BY E. APPLEYARD, 86, FARRINGDON-STREET 
 
 AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.
 
 rROLOGUE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LATE in the evening of a cold day in 
 the month of January, 1801, a fiddler 
 and a clarionet-player, attached to the 
 
 * The Champs-Klysi'es is a vast tract of around 
 planted with trees in various avenues, and con- 
 taining within its precincts many building. In 
 some p-irts it borders on the Tuilcries, and the 
 most frequented quarters of Paris; in others, on 
 remote and comparatively deserted suburb.*. 
 The WIDOWS' "SV.vi.K C.iUcu (l>'s fvitres j is an 
 avenue of trees in the Champs KlysCes. 
 
 orchestra of the celebrated Cafe des 
 Avcugles,* turned their steps towards 
 the home afforded them at the public 
 expense, in the national hospital of the 
 Quinze-Vingts.f 
 
 f The fiddler was called Michel, and 
 the name of the clarionet-player was 
 Corniquet. 
 
 Arm in arm, and supporting each 
 other, their sticks in their hands and 
 their heads in the air, they started with 
 
 * This is a subterranean coffee-house, chiefly 
 for the lower orders, situated in one of the g-al- 
 leries of the Pulais-Koyal. There is music every 
 evening, and the orchestra is entirely composed 
 of blind persons of both sexes. Hence its name : 
 CoffKC-lmuse nj tin: Blind. 
 
 t This hospital was founded in 1220, by Saint- 
 Louis, for the reception of three hundred blind, 
 win), according to the manner of counting at that 
 period, were termed (i'>i!Z"-J r ii>nf.i Fifti' 
 Twenties). At present, it contains a ^r 
 number of blind persons. None but those a 
 luU'lv blind and indigent are admitted. 
 
 I
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 a swaggering though somewhat unsteady 
 gait, for the other end of Paris. They 
 were without a guide, but they trusted 
 in Providence, who for many years had 
 preserved them from all accidents during 
 their nocturnal rambles, and likewise in 
 the instinct common to blind people, 
 who, when once upon a road to which 
 they are accustomed, are much less likely 
 to lose their way than many clear-sighted 
 persons would be. 
 
 On leaving the Palais-Royal, or Palais 
 du Tribunal, as it was then called, the 
 path of the two virtuosi lay in the direc- 
 tion of the Rue Saint-Honore, which 
 they had to follow in its whole length ; 
 thence, keeping a straight line, they 
 would arrive at the Place de la Bastille, 
 and at the distance of a few steps was 
 their abode, No. 38, Rue de Charenton. 
 
 Connoisseurs in snuff, the two worthies 
 never quitted their musical den without 
 stopping at the celebrated tobacconist's 
 shop, the " Civet," which was already 
 at that time in high repute. 
 
 On the present occasion, having filled 
 their boxes, and addressed sundry com- 
 pliments to the shop-girl, whilst they 
 did not forget to desire her to give good 
 measure, our travellers again set off, 
 and, arriving at the Place du Palais- 
 Royal, soon perceived that it presented 
 a scene of most unusual bustle and con- 
 fusion. 
 
 They heard a distant and uncertain 
 rumour ; people passed hastily by them, 
 all taking one direction ; and, nearly at 
 the same moment, a sound resembling 
 the sonorous echo of a train of artillery 
 passing over the pavement, fell upon 
 their ear. Soon after, their progress was 
 arrested by the approach of a consider- 
 able armed force. 
 
 " So, so," said Michel, " the Faubourgs 
 are up again !" 
 
 " They're wrong perhaps, eh?" replied 
 Corniquet, who was a zealous democrat ; 
 " the people have so much to be pleased 
 about, haven't they?" 
 
 But, from a conversation that was 
 being carried on at a little distance, they 
 soon found that this was a false alarm, 
 and their field-pieces proved to be simple 
 fire-engines : the fact was, a fire had just 
 broken out at a liquor-shop in the Rue 
 Saint-Honore, at the corner of the Rue 
 Pierre-Lescot. 
 
 The burning house was precisely in 
 their line of road, and, judging by the 
 consternation manifested in the neigh- 
 bourhood, the flames were very rapidly 
 spreading. The Rue Saint-Honore was 
 probably blocked up ; and besides, if 
 
 they ventured too near the scene of the 
 conflagration, they might be forcibly de- 
 tained to assist informing the chain.* 
 
 Under these circumstances, prudence 
 suggested the propriety of changing their 
 course. Now, it is no slight matter for 
 blind people to alter a route familiar to 
 them from long habit, and these two 
 held deep counsel together on the matter. 
 At last, Corniquet proposed to hire some 
 vehicle, which would take them home ; 
 and this certainly appeared to be a very 
 reasonable plan. 
 
 But Michel was stingy, and Avould 
 never agree to spend until the last ex- 
 tremity. He was conceited too, and 
 always asserted that he knew Paris so 
 well, that he should never be puzzled to 
 find his way ; and these pretensions, so 
 singular in a blind man, formed a pro- 
 minent feature in his character. 
 
 He therefore proposed to turn into the 
 Rue Saint-Thomas du Louvre, which 
 would take them from the Place du 
 Palais-Royal straight down to the river. 
 
 " Let us once get to the Seine," added 
 he, " and we shall do very well ! The 
 parapet of the quays is as straight as a 
 line ; we have only to follow that, and 
 to count the bridges. After we have 
 passed the fourth, the Pont Marie, all 
 the streets to the left lead into the Rue 
 Antoine, and when we get there, we're 
 at home, as one may say." 
 
 This plan was really well conceived, 
 and Corniquet, who was very much in 
 the habit of yielding to Michel, made 
 but few objections. 
 
 L T nhappily, the sagacious leader began 
 by making a great blunder. 
 
 The Rue Saint-Thomas du Louvre is 
 joined at its extremity by the Rue de 
 Chartres, with which it forms an acute 
 angle, and, by a mistake which is easily 
 understood, Michel just took the wrong 
 turning. 
 
 The consequences of this mistake may 
 be imagined ; for a whole hour did these 
 poor devils wander about, and when 
 they made enquiries of a chance passen- 
 ger, they found, to their inexpressible 
 disappointment, that they had left the 
 river behind them, and were in the Rue 
 Saint-Honore, near the church of Saint- 
 Roch. 
 
 Even the intrepid Michel felt discou- 
 raged, and he no longer refused to hire 
 a coach, provided one .could be found ; 
 but this, considering the lateness of the 
 
 * In France, when a tire takes place, long rows 
 of individuals are formed, from the burning pile 
 to the nearest supply of water, and buckets are 
 passed along the line with wonderful rapidity. 
 This is called the chain.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 hour, it being long past midnight, ap- 
 peared a very doubtful matter. 
 
 Before many minutes had elapsed, 
 however, to their great joy, a hackney- 
 coach rumbled past, driving furiously 
 down the Rue Saint-Honore, towards 
 the stable where it put up, which was 
 outside of the Barriere de 1'Etoile. 
 
 Being called to by the wanderers, the 
 coachman stopped, and asked where they 
 wanted to go. 
 
 But when they began to talk of the 
 Rue de Charenton and the Place de la 
 Bastille, not feeling disposed to under- 
 take such a journey at that hour of the 
 night, he prepared to drive on again. 
 
 To induce him to take them, and at 
 the same time hoping to obtain some 
 reduction in the fare, Michel appealed 
 to his humanity, and set forth the 
 wretched plight of two poor blind men, 
 who had lost their way at night, in the 
 middle of Paris. 
 
 Corniquet thought it best to appeal 
 to his love of gain, and roundly offered 
 to give him three francs. 
 
 Unfortunately, this offer touched the 
 only sensible chord in the heart of the 
 worthless driver, and he suddenly formed 
 an infamous plan for making sure of the 
 proffered gain, without leaving the road 
 which led to his home. 
 
 He pretended to have some doubts of 
 the solvency of his customers, who in 
 truth did not look as if their affairs were 
 in a very flourishing condition, and in- 
 sisted upon being paid beforehand. 
 
 Having accomplished this imposition, 
 he made them get into the coach, and 
 turning his horses several times, as if he 
 found great difficulty in making them 
 take the contrary direction from that 
 which led to the stable, he effectually 
 prevented all suspicion in the mind of 
 his dupes. 
 
 When he arrived at the Rond-Point* 
 of the Champs-Elysees, he calculated 
 that the drive had been long enough 
 for the poor fellows to think they had 
 reached their destination ; so he stopped, 
 opened the door, and then, whipping his 
 horses into a gallop, left the musicians 
 in the middle of the road, without caring 
 what became of them. 
 
 The blind men were not immediately 
 aware of the trick that had been played 
 them ; for, as Corniquet got out of the 
 coach, he dropped the -mouthpiece of his 
 clarionet, which .protruded from the 
 pocket of his great coat, and had not 
 been properly secured. A considerable 
 
 * A circular space, on one side of which opens 
 the Alle dea Veuves. 
 
 time was spent in searching for this im- 
 portant part of the instrument, and it 
 was not till they had at length regained 
 possession of it, that the two friends 
 thought of ringing the bell to rouse the 
 porter, who probably, said they, had 
 given them up for that evening. 
 
 But they could find neither the bell 
 nor the door to which it ought to be 
 attached ; and having advanced eight or 
 ten steps, without meeting with any 
 resistance at the ends of their sticks, 
 Corniquet said : "It's very odd ! a man 
 may lose his way in no time." 
 
 " Xonsense," replied Michel ; " I feel 
 the wall on the right. You don't know 
 your bearings, I tell you!" 
 
 Corniquet, whose arm his companion 
 had again taken, followed without mak- 
 ing any resistance ; but suddenly dis- 
 playing great sharpness : " Michel," 
 cried he, " for certain, we're not in our 
 street!" 
 
 " What makes you think so " asked 
 Michel. 
 
 " Just feel this a bit," said Corniquet, 
 striking the ground with his stick ; 
 " that's not pavement, any day." 
 
 " Bless me ! but, in fact, I see, by my 
 feet, that we are on bare earth ; precious 
 hard it is too : it's been a famous sharp 
 frost." 
 
 " Ah, well ! we're in a pretty pickle," 
 said Corniquet, in a lamentable tone. 
 
 " Stay !" returned Michel ; " I see 
 how it is : they're making a drain at the 
 end of the street ; the coachman didn't 
 care to risk his neck among the rubbish, 
 and he has left us on the Place de la 
 Bastille, where I feel quite at home." 
 
 " Oh ! you're never at a loss, you're 
 not !" 
 
 " I'll bet you anything I take you 
 straight to the guard-house, which is 
 not fifty steps before us," said Michel, 
 confidently : and, forcing Corniquet to 
 follow him, whilst he neglected to guide 
 their steps with his stick, he advanced 
 to the edge of one of the ditches which 
 run along the side of the footpath, and 
 rolled into it together with his friend. 
 
 " My violin is safe !" cried Michel, 
 getting up, for his first care had been 
 for his means of livelihood. Then turn- 
 ing to Corniquet, who was complaining 
 that he had bruised his elbow : " You've 
 nothing broken, have you?" asked he. 
 
 " Might as well," said Corniquet. 
 " You're a nice one to lead the way !" 
 
 " I tell you, we're just at the begin- 
 ning of our street," replied Michel. 
 " Only feel the wind that's coming right 
 in our faces !"
 
 TI1K AM HOWS' \\AI.K; OR. 
 
 And, in fact, when they had managed 
 to scramble out of the ditch, a strong 
 current of air, which met them, revealed 
 the neighbourhood of some cross street 
 or alley. Besides, the pavement began 
 again within a short distance, and this 
 was a fresh inducement to follow the 
 road which offered itself to them, for to 
 blind persons the pavement tells of the 
 abodes of men, of civilization. 
 
 The poor fellows were far from sus- 
 pecting what was the formidable locality 
 into which chance had conducted them. 
 
 The Allee des Veuves, where even at 
 the present day, a merely relative secu- 
 rity has been obtained by the establish- 
 ment of two guard-houses, and by the 
 vigilance of an improved police-service, 
 was, at the period referred to in this 
 history, a place of the worst repute. 
 
 This lonely cross-road opens at one 
 end into the frequented part of the 
 Champs-El ysees, but still at a consider- 
 able distance from the great carriage- 
 drive, the centre of life and movement ; 
 at the other, it joins the high road to 
 Passy, close to the Seine. This road, 
 vipon which there is much traffic during 
 the day, begins at dusk to be deserted, 
 and, on account of its dangerous proxi- 
 mity to the water, has itself the reputa- 
 tion of being unsafe. 
 
 In 1804, unlighted, and rendered still 
 more obscure by a double row of cente- 
 narian trees, which, even when the winds 
 of autumn had despoiled them of their 
 leaves, partially concealed the sky, the 
 long avenue to which we have introduced 
 our readers, could boast but of a few 
 small and isolated habitations, diversi- 
 fied with gardens and waste ground. 
 No attempts had as yet been made at 
 building speculations in this remote 
 quarter. And most of the habitations 
 in question had remained closed and 
 deserted, since the aristocracy, of whose 
 secret pleasures they were the asylum, 
 had been scattered and despoiled of then- 
 opulence by the fury of a revolutionary 
 mob. 
 
 From time to time, some fortunate 
 son of the new rtyime found his way to 
 these petites maisons, thus left without 
 an owner ; and sometimes too, the walls, 
 which had witnessed the elegant profli- 
 gacy of the old monarchy, echoed the 
 boisterous mirth of popular orgies. But 
 this remote and solitary place was espe- 
 cially favourable to a grosser licentious- 
 ness ; to those frightful and monstrous 
 vices, which, even amid the corruption 
 of a great city, cower under the shade of 
 night and solitude. It was therefore 
 
 carefully avoided by the most courage- 
 ous by those who, in any other place, 
 would have faced with intrepidity a 
 ruffian demanding their purse or their 
 life. 
 
 Thus adapted for the perpetration of 
 every crime, and the accomplishment of 
 the darkest mysteries, the Allee des 
 Veuves had frequently been the scene 
 of bloody outrages, and of mournful 
 tales. But just on account of its detest- 
 able notoriety, many false reports were 
 in circulation respecting it, and the fears 
 of the public made them look upon it as 
 a sort of accursed spot. It was the le- 
 puted locality of a host of tragedies, 
 palmed upon popular credulity by the 
 newspapers or the lovers of the marvel- 
 lous ; and we may suppose what would 
 have been the terror of our blind friends, 
 if some inspiration or officious warning 
 had revealed to them their alarming 
 situation. Fortunately for them, they 
 were ignorant of their danger, and 
 quietly pursued their way, in the feel- 
 ing of full security. 
 
 Persuaded that they were really in 
 the Rue de Charenton, they went on 
 till they thought they hadreached No. 38, 
 the house at which they resided ; then, 
 turning to the right, they felt for the 
 great gates, but to their utter amaze- 
 ment they ran against the trunk of a 
 tree, and found that they were once 
 more at the edge of a ditch. 
 
 " I tell you what ! the devil has a 
 hand in it," said Michel, who would 
 not give up the idea of being close to 
 his abode. 
 
 " Be quiet a moment, that I may 
 listen," said Corniquet, suddenly; and 
 with that exquisite sense of hearing, 
 which is given to the blind as a com- 
 pensation for their infirmity, he soon 
 distinguished the murmur of voices at 
 some little distance. 
 
 Having thus ascertained that there 
 were still some persons up in the neigh- 
 bourhood, of whom they might ask 
 their way, Corniquet proceeded in the 
 direction from which the voices ap- 
 peared to come. 
 
 Michel, at first, protested vehemently 
 against what he called letting themselves 
 down; but as Corniquet would not give 
 way, he ended by following him, and 
 they soon found themselves close to a 
 wall. They groped along it, until they 
 came to a wooden door ; and the mould- 
 ings which they felt, together with the 
 elegant iron knocker, would have con- 
 vinced them that it was the entrance to 
 a house, even if the noise of the con-
 
 THE MYSTKRY OY CRIME. 
 
 versation which, had first attracted them, 
 and \vhich now became more distinct, 
 could have lei't them in doubt as to the 
 place whence it issued. They listened 
 for a moment, but could not distinguish 
 the words, though they remarked that 
 the speakers were animated, and ap- 
 peared to be quarrelling. 
 
 Sure that he was not breaking any 
 one's rest, Corniquet seized the knocker, 
 and gave three or four heavy strokes ; 
 but the only effect produced by this 
 noisy mode of announcing his presence 
 was a sudden pause in the conversation, 
 so that perfect stillness reigned through- 
 out the house. 
 
 " They must be confoundedly taken 
 up with what they are saying," re- 
 marked Corniquet ; and, resolved to 
 make himself heard, he knocked more 
 loudly than before ; but the most pro- 
 found silence followed this new attempt, 
 broken only by the sighing of the wind 
 among the trees, and the distant bark- 
 ing of a watch-dog. 
 
 It was evident that the tenants of the 
 house did not intend to open the door, 
 and Michel tried to dissuade his com- 
 panion from making any further efforts, 
 declaring that he could do very well with- 
 out the assistance which had been re- 
 fused to them in so inhospitable amanner. 
 
 Corniquet, however, would not listen 
 to this ; his blood was up, and as the 
 knocker had' been productive of no 
 favourable result, despair inspired him 
 with a brilliant idea. 
 
 Taking his clarionet from his pocket, 
 he adjusted the different pieces, and 
 said to Michel : " Wasn't Morpheus a 
 famous musican in old times, who 
 tamed the brute-animals by his music :" 
 
 " Yes, so it's said," replied Michel; 
 " and my opinion is as how, he'd be 
 very useful here, to break in these other 
 brutes with his harmony." 
 
 " Well ! take your violin, and we'll 
 give 'em a tune in their den." 
 
 " What ! you're going to give a sere- 
 nade to these surly wretches r" asked 
 Michel, rather surprised at this singular 
 project. 
 
 " Why, if it does no good, it can't do 
 harm," replied the adventurous mu- 
 sician. "They'll say, it can't be rogues, 
 because it's musicians. Well, come 
 now ! are you ready ?" 
 
 " After all," thought Michel to him- 
 self, " the thing's droll enough." 
 
 " Are you ready ?" said Corniquet, 
 repeating his question ; " now for it, 
 begin boldly, let us charm, them with 
 our crack tunes !" 
 
 Michel opened with a full chord, and 
 the surrounding echoes, no doubt su- 
 fficiently startled by this nocturnal har- 
 mony, were soon awakened by the 
 famous air, " Oupeuton etre mieux quau 
 sein de sa famille?* The performers 
 standing a fair chance to pass the night 
 in the streets, this air, naturally so ex- 
 pressive, was peculiarly appropriate 
 and touching. 
 
 It would not be correct to say, that 
 nothing resulted from the execution of 
 this strange plan for a musical invasion. 
 The musicians had scarcely completed 
 the first few bars, when they became 
 aware of some movement within the 
 house; but as, after repeating the. piece 
 three or four times, no disposition was 
 shown to open the door : "It bites," 
 said Corniquet, " it bites ! They've 
 stirred, which proves they hear us; but 
 I see, we must rouse 'em with some- 
 thing more brisk :" and Michel having 
 taken the hint, the sentimental music 
 of Gretry was succeeded by the more 
 lively and not less popular air, the Tar- 
 tar March, from the opera of Lodo iska. 
 
 At this move, it AVQS impossible to hold 
 out any longer, and a small window in 
 the roof being opened, a voice, which be- 
 trayed very great impatience, called out : 
 " How now ! what rascals are making 
 such a confounded noise at our door :" 
 
 " You see," said Corniquet to his 
 companion, " what harmony does ! I 
 was sure of it. Then, changing his 
 natural voice for the most whining and 
 pitiful tone : " I ask pardon, sir," said 
 he, " for disturbing of you ; but we're 
 two poor blind men, who have lost our 
 way, and we wish you'd be so good as 
 to put us in the right road." 
 
 " Devil take you !" said the speaker, 
 who did not seem satisfied with this 
 explanation ; "did ever any one choose 
 such a way to announce himself!" 
 
 " Srr," answered Corniquet, " we 
 knocked, and no one came. I says to 
 myself at this time of night, perhaps 
 they take us for ugly customers, so I 
 think we'd best give 'em a little music ; 
 for you know, sir, rogues don't meddle 
 with music." 
 
 " Well, well ! but who arc you ?" 
 
 " Why, don't we tell you we're blind 
 men !" replied Michel. 
 
 " But is it true that you are blind r" 
 
 " Ah ! merciful God ! if we are 
 blind !" said Corniquet, dolefully ; 
 " but too blind ! from our birth we've 
 never seen the blessed sky !" 
 
 * " Where can one be better, than in the 
 bosom of one's family .'"
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 " We belong to the hospital of the 
 Quinze-Vingts, close by," continued 
 Michel, with great simplicity ; " you 
 can make enquiries about us." 
 
 " Wait a bit," was the answer given 
 to them; " I will come down." 
 
 A considerable time elapsed between 
 this promise and the execution of it, so 
 that Corniquet lost all patience, and 
 threatened to try the music again, talk- 
 ing of a decisive attack by means of 
 the overture to the Caravan. But the 
 door opened at last, though with much 
 caution, and a man appeared, with his 
 face nearly concealed by the raised 
 collar of a large top-coat ; he held a 
 light in his hand, and told the bund 
 men to draw near, that he might con- 
 vince himself of the reality of their 
 infirmity. 
 
 Michel passed muster first, and his 
 eyes, which, with their sightless balls, 
 bore a strong resemblance to those of 
 an antique bust, appeared to carry con- 
 clusive evidence to the mind of the 
 examiner. 
 
 " And I'm in a still worse plight," 
 said Corniquet, advancing in his turn ; 
 but this was pure boasting, for really, 
 neither could claim any advantage over 
 the other. 
 
 " All right ! you may come in," said 
 the man in the great-coat ; " I see you 
 are honest fellows, and that there is 
 nothing to fear from you." 
 
 Corniquet was already seeking for the 
 entrance, glad to profit by the invitation ; 
 but Michel, who persisted in believing 
 that he was close to his home, observed 
 that the slightest direction would enable 
 them to regain the Rue de Charenton, 
 near which they must how be. 
 
 " The Ruede Charenton!" exclaimed 
 the man ; " is that Avhere you are 
 going r" 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Michel, " to the es- 
 tablishment of the Quin/e-Vingts, to 
 which we belong." 
 
 " Well then, my good fellows, that's 
 a long way behind ; you are here at the 
 Avenue des Triomphes, near the Bar- 
 riere du Trone."* 
 
 " Now, what did I tell your" cried 
 Corniquet, whilst his companion was 
 speechless from surprise. 
 
 " You've been really very fortunate," 
 added their wily and provoking new 
 acquaintance, " to have met with no- 
 thing unpleasant on the road ; robberies 
 and murder are quite common in this 
 out-of-the-way place." 
 
 * This would have been quite at the opposite 
 extremity of Paris, from the Champs-ElysC-es. 
 
 " Well, but come, sir !" said Corni- 
 quet, in alarm ; " be a little charitable, 
 and help us out of this. Couldn't you 
 send some one with us, to show us the 
 way, if we paid 'em r" 
 
 " Impossible, friend ! I am alone in 
 the house, with my wife ; I am in great 
 trouble about her. But yet," continued 
 he, " to be sure, I might hit upon a plan." 
 
 " Well ! what is it :" said Corniquet. 
 
 " No, no ; all things considered, it 
 would be very difficult to manage ; so, 
 good night, my fine fellows ! it is not at 
 all pleasant to stand talking here." 
 
 " But, sir, we might understand one 
 another," urged Corniquet, not at all 
 liking the idea of being again left to the 
 guidance of Michel. 
 
 " Why to be sure I might tell you 
 what it is, but a little explanation 
 would be necessary : so come in, at all 
 events, and if we can't come to terms, 
 that need not prevent me from offering 
 you a glass of wine to warm you." 
 
 " That's what I call sense," said Cor- 
 niquet ; " you seem to be a good 'un, 
 after all !" ' 
 
 Michel felt an instinctive reluctance 
 to venture within this unknown house, 
 and appeared to hesitate at the entrance ; 
 but Corniquet, taking his arm, asked 
 him what he was afraid of. 
 
 The fear of ridicule triumphed ; de- 
 ciding against his secret presentiment, 
 Michel followed his friend without 
 making any further resistance, and the 
 door was closed behind them. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AFTER traversing a small courtyard, 
 they were introduced into a spacious 
 and lofty apartment, and their host in- 
 vited them to sit down ; then address- 
 ing them, and raising his voice in a 
 marked manner : " You must know, 
 my friends," said he, " that, at the 
 moment you knocked at the door, I 
 found myself in a very awkward pre- 
 dicament." 
 
 " Indeed ; what was it r" replied 
 Corniquet. , 
 
 " Just fancy. My wife, who is in 
 the next room, had been suddenly taken 
 with the pains of labour." 
 
 And, at that moment, as if to confirm 
 the assertion, a woman's voice was heard 
 to utter stifled and plaintive groans. 
 
 " Is that all ?" exclaimed Corniquet. 
 " Ah ! well ! that didn't bother me 
 much, when my good woman was alive ; 
 I just used to send off for the midwife, 
 when those miseries took place."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CHIME. 
 
 " It is very easy for you to talk," 
 rejoined the host ; " but in the first 
 place, I am alone -with the sick -\voman, 
 and the nearest midwife lives a good 
 distance off: and then, that's not all ; 
 I, who speak to you, am only the porter 
 of the house in which you are." 
 
 " I," said Corniquet, " have never 
 been anything but a poor musician ; but 
 when things came, why, they came, 
 and if I had not blunt to pay the need- 
 ful, I made up for it later ; a child is not 
 killed for being born on tick." 
 
 " You do not understand me," re- 
 plied the porter; " I have wherewith to 
 pay for my wife, but my master has 
 strictly forbidden that she shall lie-in 
 here." 
 
 " Well ! that's a good 'un !" cried 
 Corniquet ; " has a master anything to 
 do with that ? Isn't a woman at Liberty 
 to " 
 
 " How you talk !" said Michel, im- 
 patiently ; " can't you let the gentle- 
 man speak." 
 
 " I tell you what it is," continued 
 Corniquet, striking the ground with his 
 stick, " and I'll always say it, and 
 stick to it, a master has no right to pre- 
 vent " 
 
 But Corniquet was here interrupted 
 by the husband, who reminded him 
 that they had no time to lose in idle 
 words. 
 
 " I listen," said Corniquet, doggedly 
 pursuing his idea, notwithstanding ; 
 " but if, after -the revolution, masters 
 will meddle with such like things, 
 where's liberty ? that's all." 
 
 " I was going to say," resumed the 
 husband, after a short silence, finding 
 that Corniquet had exhausted the 
 expression of his comic indignation, 
 " that my master receives in this 
 house, his friends of both sexes, and 
 gives them, gallant entertainments, so 
 that he does not care to be annoyed 
 by the presence of a sick-woman or the 
 cries of a child. He has made me un- 
 derstand that matters must be managed 
 awayfrom here, or he will discharge me." 
 
 " Then, that man is a tyrant ! and I 
 say it !" cried Corniquet ; " and you gave 
 in to it " 
 
 " Not to lose his place," suggested 
 the prudent Michel. 
 
 " That is the very thing ; I have 
 good wages and plenty of perquisites, 
 without speaking of the place itself, 
 which is very light, for my master often 
 does not come above twice in a fort- 
 night. Besides, his whim does not put 
 me to great inconvenience ; at the hos- 
 
 pital of Saint Anthony, near here, there 
 is a nurse who is from my part of the 
 country, and I am sure my wife will be 
 as well taken care of as if she were at 
 home." 
 
 " Well, if you all agree," said Corni- 
 quet, " there's no offence." 
 
 " Certainly, but here is the difficulty. 
 In order to transport the patient more 
 commodiously than in a hackney-coach, 
 and more decently than on a stretcher, 
 I provided myself with a sedan-chair. 
 One of my friends, who is a coach- 
 maker, has brought up a number of 
 them since the revolution. With the 
 assistance of a cousin, who is gardener 
 here, I could have carried the poor 
 woman very comfortably, but she is 
 before her time, and my fool of a cousin 
 has gone to spend the night at a wed- 
 ding-party ; so I am left with her on 
 my hands. I don't know what I shall 
 do!" 
 
 ".I hear you, master, clattering along 
 with your wooden shoes," replied Cor- 
 niquet ; " it's not difficult to guess what 
 you are going to say." 
 
 " What do you understand ?" asked 
 the porter, feigning to be surprised 
 that his thoughts should be so easily 
 guessed. 
 
 " Why, to be sure ! you want us to 
 help you in removing your wife." 
 
 " As you so frankly offer me your 
 services, I will not deny it ; the assist- 
 ance of worthy people like you, would 
 be very valuable to me just now." 
 
 " Well, but I say, old boy," rejoined 
 Corniquet, in a tone of friendly re- 
 proach, " you made us kick our heels 
 at the door a pretty long time, eh ?" 
 
 " In the first place, when you began 
 to knock, I was occupied with my wife ; 
 and then, in these lonely parts, we are 
 cautious about opening the door at 
 night." 
 
 " Yes, but when we struck up the 
 air from Lodoiska, you said to yourself : 
 
 " Et vons saurez que les Tartares 
 
 Nc *out barbares 
 Qu" avee leurs ennemis." 
 
 " I confess," replied the porter, 
 " that the music reassured me very 
 much ; but when you informed me that 
 you were blind men who had lost their 
 way, it seems, said I, as if Providence 
 had sent them to me." 
 
 " Ah, well ! all for the best !" said 
 Corniquet, gaily. 
 
 * Well-known words in the Tartar March : 
 " And you know that the Tartars 
 
 Are barbarous 
 Only to their enemies."
 
 8 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OR, 
 
 " I thought, in the first instance, 
 blind people are naturally handy and 
 obliging. These men have a service to 
 ask of me, and I, on my side, shall be 
 glad of their assistance ; they can help 
 me to remove my wife, and I can con- 
 duct them home. It will be a capital 
 arrangement." 
 
 " But how are we to fasten ourselves 
 to your machine?" objected Michel, 
 who was not very well pleased with the 
 plan ; " we have quite enough trouble 
 to find our way, without having a load 
 upon our arms." 
 
 " That need not be an obstacle," re- 
 plied the husband ; " I might be the 
 front bearer, and then the one behind 
 would only have to follow me ; or sup- 
 pose you both take it, so as to leave my 
 hands free, in case of necessity, to use 
 the weapons with which I shall pro- 
 vide myself ; if I hold the arm of the 
 vanguard, can I not guide the caravan 
 with perfect ease r" 
 
 " Certainly ! that's clear enough," 
 said Corniquet. 
 
 " Besides, if after I have seen you 
 home, you think I am still in your debt, 
 you can name your price." 
 
 " Ah, now, Mr. Porter ! that's not 
 friendly of you," exclaimed the good- 
 natured Corniquet ; " don't you say so 
 again, or we shall fall out '." 
 
 " "Well, at all events, you'll take a 
 glass of something to refresh your- 
 selves ?" 
 
 " Oh, as to a glass, I don't say; 
 that's another thing. Eh, Michel?" 
 
 " I'll be with you again in a mo- 
 ment," said the husband to the two 
 friends ; and he went into the next 
 room. As soon as he entered, his wife 
 began to moan heavily, and when he 
 returned with a bottle and some glasses, 
 he declared that no time must be lost, 
 for she was getting worse every moment. 
 Having poured out the wine : " Here's 
 your health, my good friends," added 
 he ; " it's the real stuff, from my mas- 
 ter's cellar." 
 
 Corniquet pledged him, and taking a 
 mouthful, tested it after the fashion of 
 a connoisseur, then pronouncing it to 
 be prime, he tossed off the glass. 
 
 Michel, who had all along appeared 
 to submit to what was taking place 
 around him, rather than to take any 
 part in it, now refused to drink, and 
 pressed them to make haste. 
 
 " I am sure I am anxious to do so," 
 replied the husband ; " and if you will 
 come with me, we will get out the 
 chair." 
 
 The blind men rose immediately, and 
 their companion opening the door of the 
 room which contained his wife, said to 
 her : " Do not lose patience, my dear ; 
 we shall come for you in a moment." 
 He then gave his hand to Corniquet, 
 and Michel, holding by his friend's 
 coat, followed with a discontented air. 
 Thus disposed in a bunch, if we may 
 be allowed such a comparison, they 
 reached a coach-house, and the porter 
 placed the poles of the sedan-chair in 
 the hands of these impromptu bearers. 
 
 They carried it to the bottom of a 
 flight of steps, Avhich led up to the 
 house, and the man told them to wait a 
 few minutes, whilst he fetched his wife. 
 " I must wrap her up well, in blankets 
 and a good cloak," said he, " for I 
 think the cold is increasing." 
 
 He soon returned, bearing his bur- 
 den in his arms, and apparently with 
 some effort, for he observed: "I expect 
 you mean to present me with a famous 
 boy ; you are none of the lightest to 
 carry, I can assure you." 
 
 The patient made no reply, but by 
 continuing her groans ; and this pattern 
 of a husband, having placed her as 
 comfortably as he could on the seat of 
 the chair, and consoled her by the as- 
 surance that in half an hour she would 
 be in a good warm bed, turned to the 
 blind men, and exclaimed with energy : 
 " Gunners, to your posts!" 
 
 He then assisted them to secure the 
 leathern straps upon their shoulders; 
 the outer gate was opened, and the 
 escort set forth at a good round pace. 
 
 We will not affirm that the sick woman 
 was particularly well satisfied with her 
 bearers, for, unaccustomed to the office, 
 and urged on by the husband, they 
 gave many rude shocks to the chair and 
 its contents ; the leader of the band 
 seemed to think they could never go 
 fast enough, and would willingly have 
 increased, not diminished their speed. 
 They went through that portion of the 
 Alice des Veuves which the two friends 
 had already traversed, and arrived at 
 the Rond-Point ; when Corniquet, wish- 
 ing to display the acuteness of his per- 
 ception, remarked : " We're crossing a 
 square ; I know that by the wind, which 
 blows rather fresh." 
 
 " Yes, the Place du Trone !" replied 
 he whom we must call the mystifier ; for 
 our readers have, doubtless, long ago 
 guessed, that a fresh plot was being 
 practised against our friends of the 
 Quinze-Vingts. 
 
 However this may be, the leader of
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CFvIME. 
 
 the party caused it to move very quickly, 
 so long as they continued in the open 
 space which separates the two planta- 
 tions of the Champ-Elysees, or in the 
 frequented part of the Faubourg Saint- 
 Honore, but as soon as they reached 
 the labyrinth of deserted streets which 
 give such a dull melancholy aspect to 
 this quarter of the town, he slackened 
 his pace, and appeared to be in no 
 hurry to reach his destination, for he 
 commenced what might be aptly termed 
 a Penelope's walk. He went up one 
 street, and down another, retracing his 
 steps, doubling and turning, so as to 
 create an inextricable confusion in the 
 memory of his companions, in case 
 they might afterwards wish to point out 
 the course which he had pursued. 
 
 Just as they came to a solitary lane, 
 which ran into the Rue de la Pcpiniere, 
 and which they had already visited seve- 
 ral times in the course of their peram- 
 bulations, they heard the measured steps 
 of the night-watch advancing in that 
 direction. The moment their leader was 
 aware of this, he, without saying a word, 
 let go the arm of Corniquet, and stealing 
 away on tip-toe, so as not to attract at- 
 tention, turned into the lane ; when he 
 had got to some distance, he laid aside 
 this precaution, and starting off at full 
 speed, soon effected his escape. 
 
 His dupes were some little time be- 
 fore they could persuade themselves of 
 the reality of this new mishap. A few 
 minutes passed in doubt and supposi- 
 tions on the part of Corniquet, and in 
 reproaches and curses on that of Michel ; 
 and whilst they were trying to disen- 
 gage themselves from the strap and fas- 
 tenings, the watch came up to these 
 unlucky wanderers. 
 
 We have not yet mentioned, that it 
 was a bright moonlight night, for to the 
 two actors who have hitherto filled so 
 prominent a part upon the scene, this 
 was a matter of no consequence ; sun, 
 moon, and stars, were alike a blank to 
 them. But, in point of fact, the sky 
 being remarkably clear, in consequence 
 of the shrap north wind, the star of night 
 (to use the words of a romance which 
 attained to great celebrity some years 
 later) had every facility to shed its 
 peaceful splendour over the scene of this 
 meeting. 
 
 The street was not at that time built 
 up, but was bounded by 'the walls of 
 some neighbouring gardens, and the 
 light of the moon fell full upon the 
 group formed at the moment by the 
 sedan-chair and its perplexed bearers. 
 
 Now, this Avas a singular spectacle at so 
 advanced an hour of the night, and could 
 not fail to command the attention of the 
 officer of the watch. He advanced to- 
 wards the forsaken pair, and demanded 
 what they were about. 
 
 "How should I know? replied Cor- 
 niquet. " It's another trick that's been 
 played us ; I think we're bewitched to- 
 night !" 
 
 " A trick ?" returned the officer ; "ex- 
 plain yourself." 
 
 The explanation was necessarily long 
 and confused; Michel and Corniquet 
 spoke together, and made a sort of olla- 
 podrida with the Cafe des Aveugles, a 
 fire, a wicked coachman, the Avenue 
 des Triomphes, a woman in labour, a 
 rascally porter who had led them about, 
 and a hundred other details. The only 
 thing which appeared clear to the leader 
 of the watch, was, that he had to do with 
 blind men, and thinking it strange that 
 they should have been chosen to convey 
 the singular A^ehicle before him, he im- 
 mediately conceived strong suspicions 
 as to its contents. 
 
 The door being opened, he saw some- 
 thing seated, and ordered this something 
 to get out and answer for itself; but no 
 word or movement followed this intima- 
 tion, and he then commanded two of his 
 men to bring it out by force. They 
 obeyed, and lifted out of the chair ap- 
 parently a human form, enveloped in a 
 large cloak laced with gold. 
 
 The curiosity of the bystanders was 
 now still more excited; the cloak was 
 opened, and instead of a woman in the 
 delicate situation stated by the blind 
 men, they found a man of about fifty or 
 sixty years of age. At first they thought 
 that he had fainted, but soon, from the 
 blood which saturated his linen, and a 
 large wound in the left side, they dis- 
 covered that he was the victim of assas- 
 sination. This time, the Allee des 
 Veuves had not belied its reputation. 
 
 Pressed with questions, the blind men 
 could only give a detailed account of 
 what had passed in the house they came 
 from. Their infirmity, and the calmness 
 of their demeanour, did not allow sus- 
 picion to attach itself to them ; and the 
 most natural solution of the difficulty 
 appeared to be that which they them- 
 selves gave, namely, that they had fallen 
 into the hands of a dexterous villain, 
 and had unconsciously assisted in re- 
 moving the body of the victim. Still, it 
 was prudent to detain them in custody, 
 so that they were first taken to the house 
 of the magistrate for the district, and
 
 10 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 then sent to the police-depot, to await 
 the conclusion of their harassing noc- 
 turnal Odyssey. 
 
 Next day, justice having received in- 
 formation of the affair, its officers used 
 every exertion to establish the identity 
 of the murdered man; but there was 
 nothing to indicate his name or quality, 
 and the exposition at the Morgue re- 
 mained without result. Corniquet and 
 Michel, interrogated separately or to- 
 gether, never varied in their evidence, 
 which agreed in the minutest point. 
 Inquiries had been made concerning 
 them, at the establishment of the Quinze- 
 Vingts, and the answers being very satis- 
 factory, no one entertained the slightest 
 suspicion that they might be the guilty 
 parties. But as Corniquet was positive 
 he should recognize the voice of the man 
 who had placed them in this unpleasant 
 position, if he heard it again, the magis- 
 trate, before he set them at liberty, 
 formed a plan which might have had 
 some chance of success, if it had been 
 executed on the night the crime was 
 discovered. 
 
 The blind men were taken to the spot 
 where they were arrested, and requested 
 to try to trace out the road they had fol- 
 lowed on that memorable occasion. But 
 the assassin had so effectually taken his 
 precautions, that such an attempt could 
 not be productive of much success. Be- 
 sides, the unfortunate friends were still 
 so confused and alarmed at finding 
 themselves in the hands of justice, that 
 they had not sufficient presence of mind, 
 or clearness of recollection. Michel, 
 proceeding pretty much by chance, not- 
 withstanding his pretended skill in being 
 always able to find his way, led the po- 
 lice agents who accompanied him, to the 
 place where the slaughter-house of the 
 Roule now stands, a lonely spot, with- 
 out houses or trees, not in the least re- 
 sembling that whence the funeral pro- 
 cession had set forth. 
 
 Corniquet was somewhat better in- 
 spired. He took the direction of the 
 Champs-Elysees, and succeeded in find- 
 ing the Rond-Point ; but then, instead 
 of turning into the Allee des Veuves, he 
 went down the Avenue d'Antin, and at 
 once indicated, as the scene of the out- 
 rage, the house of an aged member of 
 the Conservative senate, who lived there 
 with his wife, a cook-maid, and a man 
 servant. The social position of this in- 
 dividual acquitted him of all connection 
 with the crime, and justice would not 
 even examine into the pretended disco- 
 very of Corniquet. The man-servant 
 
 alone was confronted with him, and 
 when he spoke, the blind-man imme- 
 diately declared that his voice was not 
 at all like that of the murderer. 
 
 Once it was thought that a very im- 
 portant clue had been discovered. On 
 the same night that the two members 
 of the Quinze-Vingts were arrested, a 
 patrol going the rounds in one of the 
 most solitary streets of Chaillot,* had 
 met a young man in a state of great 
 excitement, who spoke of murder, of a 
 dagger, and of a man who wished to 
 take his life. But the incoherence of 
 his expressions soon proved this young 
 man to be labouring under mental de- 
 rangement. A letter was found on him, 
 addressed to a most respectable party in 
 Paris ; and it was ascertained that a few 
 days before his insanity had declared 
 itself, he had suffered severe domestic 
 calamities, which might easily account 
 for the presence of the disease. He 
 was closely watched for some days, 
 and being duly pronounced by the doc- 
 tors to be of unsound mind, was con- 
 ducted to the lunatic establishment at 
 Charenton. 
 
 The only result of the investigation 
 of justice, was therefore the experiment 
 which had been tried with the blind 
 men. The press drew public attention 
 to this fact, and it gave rise to a contro- 
 versy between several learned men, 
 which was not peculiarly remarkable 
 for either courtesy or utility. 
 
 The numerous plots which at that 
 time menaced the safety of the state, and 
 the life of the first consul, Bonaparte, 
 gave by degrees an almost exclusively 
 political direction to the police-service ; 
 and when the first moment of interest 
 was passed, the crime, the discovery of 
 which we have related, was forgotten, 
 like many other outrages committed 
 and left unpunished about the same 
 period. 
 
 But the hand of Providence was still 
 there, to bring to light, in its own good 
 time, the dark business, of which as yet 
 we have but a confused hint. Happy 
 is it for mankind that Providence is 
 always patient, always watchful, and 
 fruitful in expedients ! we may confi- 
 dently trust to it for the detection of this 
 black mystery. 
 
 Besides, he who reads will learn ! 
 
 * A village in the environs of Paris, very near 
 the Cliamps-ElysCcs. 
 
 END OF THE PROLOffTE;
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 11 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AT the period of the outbreak of the 
 Revolution of 1789, one Joseph Lebeau 
 was at the head of a first-rate establish- 
 ment, in the mercery line, situated in 
 the quarter of Saint-Denis, Paris. The 
 concern had been in the hands of his 
 family for several generations. 
 
 He was not a zealous partisan of the 
 new doctrines ; but he felt convinced 
 that they would ultimately triumph, 
 and, considering in a commercial point 
 of view the inevitable consequences of 
 this general overthrow of the past, his 
 first thought was how it might aifect the 
 interests of his business. 
 
 The changing circumstances which 
 marked this eventful time, never found 
 him unprepared. When the green cock- 
 ades were mounted, as the revolutionary 
 symbol, he was instantly ready with a 
 considerable quantity, and he sold them 
 oif with a rapidity which is the pri- 
 vilege of any trader able to meet the 
 wants or the whim of the moment. But 
 the green cockade was a transitory 
 fashion, and was succeeded by the tri- 
 colour, destined to a more enduring and 
 glorious career. On this occasion like- 
 wise, Joseph Ljbeau was provided with 
 the necessary materials to satisfy all de- 
 mands for the great national demonstra- 
 tion ; besides supplying the civic deco- 
 rations for "an immense number of hats, 
 he had an ample assortment of scarfs, 
 and rich ribbons, to be used as sashes and 
 other ensigns of authority ; and when, 
 descending from the political sphere 
 into that of fashion, the tricolour was 
 adopted in ladies' attire, this skilful man 
 of business produced a succession of 
 tempting novelties, unrivalled in the per- 
 fection of the tissues, the elegance of the 
 patterns, and the freshness and variety 
 of the shades. 
 
 So much activity and tact could not fail 
 of their reward, and at a crisis which 
 was fatal to many in the commercial 
 world, long before the end of the Con- 
 stituent Assembly, Joseph Lebeau had 
 realized a handsome property. He was 
 not ungrateful to the noble colours which 
 had brought such good fortune to his 
 house ; he placed it under their special 
 patronage, and exchanged his former 
 unmeaning sign of the "Clouded Ribbon," 
 for that of the " Tricoloured Prism," un- 
 der which latter denomination his estab- 
 lishment v*is thenceforth known. 
 
 But during the calamitous days of the 
 
 Reign of Terror, Joseph Lebeau suffered 
 in common with his brother traders, 
 from the stagnation of business, rnd 
 vainly exercised his ingenuity to disco- 
 ver some favourable opening for specu- 
 lation. When luxury again flourished 
 under the Directory, a slight ameliora- 
 tion Avas perceptible in his affairs, and 
 his hopes rose with the edict of the 29th 
 Floreal, 10th year (19th May, 1802), 
 which created the Legion of Honour.* 
 It was at first a purely civic institution, 
 but the clear-sighted tradesman soon 
 discerned a future widely- diffused order 
 of knighthood under these quiet com- 
 mencements, and he already calculated 
 the splendid profit she should make upon 
 the ribbon required for the decoration. 
 This flattering dream was, however, 
 suddenly arrested by the hand of death. 
 In the month of July, 1820, Joseph Le- 
 beau was seized with a malignant putrid 
 fever, which carried him to the grave in 
 the course of a few days. 
 
 When his premature end was known 
 in the neighbourhood, and especially on 
 the day of the funeral, the numerous as- 
 sembly of commercial men expressed, as 
 with one voice, respect for the upright 
 character and high capacity of the de- 
 ceased. A sad reflection accompanied 
 their flattering testimony to Lebeau's 
 worth; it was the general impression, 
 that, the establishment which had been 
 raised to so high a degree of prosperity 
 by his talents, would be ruined by his 
 death. 
 
 "For," continued the talkers, "though 
 there have been examples of young 
 women placed at the head of large es- 
 tablishments, who have managed them 
 with much credit to themselves ; yet, 
 there is a great difference in women, 
 and the exceptions had been brought up 
 to trade ; before they put their hand to 
 the work, they had some idea of what 
 is meant by keeping books, having a 
 connexion, bills falling due,. &c." 
 
 " But was this the case with the young 
 Annette Lebeau ? Her father, who had 
 singular opinions on that subject, had 
 brought her up like a princess ; she never 
 appeared in the shop, she was always 
 dressed in the height of the fashion, and, 
 in her whole life, had never taken down 
 a bandbox for a customer. As to ribbons, 
 did she know anything about them, ex- 
 cept to select them for her waist or her 
 hair :" 
 
 All these things were indeed rigor- 
 ously true; and when some friends of 
 
 * This was not at first an order of knighthood, 
 but it became so under Napoleon.
 
 12 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 the family ventured to observe, that 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau was a very su- 
 perior person, and possessed of a good 
 understanding, " Oh, yes !" was the re- 
 ply, " witty and agreeable in conversa- 
 tion, she may probably be ; but business 
 does not require wit ; strong common 
 sense, activity, and solid qualities are 
 wanting :" and, encouraged by the gene- 
 ral assent andepprobation, the speakers 
 went back to their first position, de- 
 claring that the Tricoloured Prism had 
 sustained a terrible blow by the death 
 of its principal, and that it must be plain 
 to every one it could never recover the 
 shock. 
 
 It happened, however, that these pre- 
 dictions were not so well founded as 
 their authors supposed. Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau undertook the management of 
 her late father's affairs, and in her hands 
 they did not fall into the rapid and com- 
 plete decay with which they had been 
 threatened. AVe may account for this 
 fact by presuming, either that the young 
 girl, who had been so hardly judged, 
 found in the powerful reaction of self- 
 love sufficient strength to accomplish 
 the difficult task which had devolved 
 upon her ; or, that in her case was ex- 
 emplified the consoling doctrine, that 
 human intelligence is full of resources, 
 and may be applied, by energetic will, 
 to the most various pursuits. 
 
 Assisted in the first instance by the 
 advice of some old friends of her father, 
 and afterwards guided by a sound and 
 instinctive perception of the true prin- 
 ciples of commerce, she was soon enabled 
 to meet the difficulties of her position ; 
 and as she went on with her arduous 
 undertaking, her frank and open temper, 
 her modest self-possession, |and the 
 charm of her manner, won for her gene- 
 ral sympathy, so that all were emulous 
 in their expressions of goodwill, and in 
 the endeavour to lighten her labours. 
 The success of her courageous attempt 
 was not long doubtful ; before many 
 months had elapsed, not only had the 
 evils which menaced the future pros- 
 perity of the establishment been averted 
 by her skilful and steady management, 
 but a fresh impulse had been given to 
 the concern, and it had never been in a 
 more flourishing state. 
 
 There were some, however, who would 
 not allow that they had been mistaken. 
 The fact was there, as plain as if it had 
 been stated in black and white, and 
 could not be denied ; but they tried to 
 find some plausible explanation for it. 
 Now, in the time of old Joseph Lebeau, 
 
 a certain clerk, named Chevillard, stood 
 high in his employer's confidence, and 
 had the exclusive care of the cash and 
 accounts ; these reasoners therefore de- 
 clared, that they saw nothing so very 
 surprising in the sudden commercial 
 vocation of the fair mercer ; for, said 
 they, " The thing is simply this : she 
 has been sensible enough to place her 
 inexperience under the guidance of a 
 long /lead, who leaves her all the ap- 
 parent merit of the result, whilst in 
 reality he supplies all the study and in- 
 telligence necessary to its attainment. 
 In this way, there is no great wonder 
 she should be successful ; any petticoat 
 could have done as well." 
 
 Unfortunately for our theorists, many 
 persons were well acquainted with the 
 extent of Chevillard's capacity. He was 
 indisputably a worthy young man ; he 
 had all the required qualities for a good 
 accountant exactitude, integrity, appli- 
 cation to business ; but so far from being 
 able to direct a large concern, he was 
 essentially a man of details, whose ideas 
 fell into confusion at the slightest at- 
 tempt to interfere Avith his usual routine, 
 and who, every year, when required to 
 take stock, make up the accounts, and 
 strike a general balance, evinced the 
 most comical distress that can be ima- 
 gined. 
 
 Besides, this pretended leader was, 
 from his character and habits, very in- 
 ferior to the part assigned him ; ardent 
 in the pursuit of pleasure, Chevillard, 
 whenever his occupations would permit, 
 dressed himself with the most scrupulous 
 care, to display to the best advantage, 
 a person which, in many points, had 
 been favoured by nature : and we may 
 here remark, that he expended upon the 
 gratification of his vanity, a larger por- 
 tion of his yearly revenue than was 
 strictly consistent with prudence. De- 
 voted to the fair sex, and treating every 
 passing fancy as a serious passion, if he 
 had fallen into the hands of certain 
 heroines, he would have been easily led 
 to commit the most imprudent excesses. 
 Good-hearted, generous, and desirous to 
 oblige his friends, he was, like all peo- 
 ple of that stamp, careless of money ; 
 and though he had always been in the 
 receipt of a fair salary, at the age of 
 twenty-six years he had not, to use a 
 popular expression, " saved a single 
 penny." 
 
 It must be confessed, that, with these 
 qualities and defects, he was not par- 
 ticularly fitted for a commercial career : 
 and, in fact, the accountant had em-
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 13 
 
 braced it from the force of circumstance, 
 rather than from inclination. All things 
 considered, we may regard him as a man 
 who had more weakness than strength, 
 more frivolity than reflection, more 
 agreeable accomplishments than solid 
 acquirements as one who himself 
 needed a severe mentor, and was in no 
 condition to act in that capacity towards 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau. 
 
 It is certain, however, that Chevillard 
 had at one time aspired to exercise the 
 influence which was attributed to him 
 in the affairs of that young lady. When 
 she took the direction of the establish- 
 
 See p. 18. 
 
 ment, she was naturally inclined to 
 avail herself of any resources which 
 might offer themselves, and had sought 
 the officious guidance of a man, whom 
 she supposed to be skilful and ex- 
 perienced. He, on his part, was quite 
 ready to manage for her ; but soon per- 
 civing that his advice was not judicious, 
 the pupil had quietly resumed the helm, 
 and consulted no one but herself on the 
 course she pursued. 
 
 Notwithstanding the extreme delicacy 
 with which the young girl effected this 
 transition, the hard necessity of a forced 
 abdication was far from agreeable to the
 
 u 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OR, 
 
 dethroned monarch. As far as he was 
 able, he had shown no outward marks of 
 vexation, but his deposition had left a 
 'eeling of ill-will, and he frequently gave 
 way to fits of envy and railing against 
 lis young patroness, which he would 
 lave found much difficulty in justifying. 
 Kind by nature to all who surrounded 
 icr, Mademoiselle Lebeau appeared to 
 ;ake peculiar pains and pleasure in 
 .avishing on this sulky gentleman con- 
 tinual marks of her goodwill. In so 
 doing, she followed the steps of her fa- 
 ther, who had always treated Chevillard 
 with affectionate consideration ; and 
 perhaps also the consciousness of the 
 severe disappointment she had inflicted 
 by discarding him from her royal coun- 
 cil, had some influence on her de- 
 meanour towards him. Besides, who 
 can tell? Although Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau must really have perceived that 
 Chevillard was inferior to her in every 
 respect, the habit of seeing him every 
 day, a familiar and constant association 
 with him, the care he bestowed upon his 
 appearance, which is never unpleasing 
 to a woman, the good qualities he really 
 possessed, and even his whimsical fits of 
 ill-humour, and his desponding airs, 
 were probably quite sufficient to interest 
 a young person, who was the sole mis- 
 tress of her actions, and in whose position 
 a speedy marriage was in some sort an 
 imperious necessity. 
 
 We will go further : the moral and 
 intellectual inferiority which we have 
 noticed in our account of the clerk's 
 character, rendered this supposition still 
 more probable. Superior and privileged 
 natures frequently experience a strong 
 sympathy for inferior organizations, 
 which they feel called upon to complete 
 by governing them. Women, whose 
 affections are proverbially capricious, are 
 constantly affording us examples of this 
 phenomenon, which might be deno- 
 minated, the sympathy of contraries ; and 
 in the case under consideration, may 
 not a similar predilection be supposed ? 
 and the fact once admitted, need we 
 seek for any other explanation of the 
 favour and attentions shown to Chevil- 
 lard? 
 
 # # * 
 
 Independently of a large connexion 
 in Paris and the provinces, Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau's house had important transac- 
 tions in other countries. To keep up 
 and extend these foreign relations, a 
 travelling-clerk was indispensable. We 
 must say a few words of the individual 
 who held that responsible situation in 
 
 :he executive of the Tricoloured Prism. 
 He was called Chabouillant. 
 
 Like the generality of commercial 
 travellers, this Chabouillant was a jovial 
 fellow, full of fine phrases, and wide 
 awake, though without any great pre- 
 rensions to real wit. He had little ele- 
 vation in his feelings or ideas, but was 
 gifted with the most imperturbable self- 
 possession. In person, he was short and 
 ;hick, with an impudent, red-face, and 
 stiff hair, of a rather fiery auburn. His 
 robust frame appeared to have been 
 Formed expressly for the wearing life of 
 a commercial traveller, accustomed, as 
 :very one knows, to seek forgetfulness 
 of the annoyances and fatigue conse- 
 quent upon his perpetual motion, in a 
 turbulent abuse of the pleasures of the 
 senses. 
 
 Such as we have sketched him, Cha- 
 bouillant would not have been exactly 
 vexed at finding himself in the world, 
 if he had but entered it in a more 
 straightforward manner. But his regis- 
 ter of birth stated, with most annoying 
 frankness, that he was born of unknown 
 parents, and he had never been able to 
 make up his mind to submit to this 
 anonymous relationship. He asserted, 
 that the mystery concealed opulent 
 kinsfolk and a noble origin ; and he was 
 possessed with a singular passion to es- 
 tablish his identity, or, as he jocosely 
 termed it, to legalize himself. 
 
 Not that his heart was lacerated after 
 the furious fashion of modern An- 
 thonys.* He did not belong to that 
 unfortunate class of bastards, to whom 
 some unknown personage brings, at 
 the end of every three months, their 
 quarterly allowance ; so he had no 
 leisiire time for meditation, for hoarding 
 in his manly bosom the wild tumult of 
 inconsolable grief, or for flying from this 
 to the innocent recreations of murder 
 and violence. Afflicted in a less impe- 
 tuous style, he might be said to smile at 
 grief; and the persevering and active 
 search after his lost family, which he 
 gave out as the principal and true object 
 of his journies, of itself placed him in a 
 very amusing position. But it was es- 
 pecially diverting to hear him, when 
 laying at the feet of the fair mercer (or, 
 as he gallantly called her, the Tricoloured 
 Fairy) the homage of a conditional 
 passion, he declared that he only waited 
 for the appearance of his noble parents, 
 to insinuate the offer of his heart and 
 hand. 
 
 * Alluding to a modern French work of that 
 name, belonging to the ultra-romantic school.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 15 
 
 As this casns matrimonii did not ap- 
 pear very imminent, and the whimsical 
 admirer acquitted himself of his com- 
 mercial duties to the entire satisfaction 
 of Mademoiselle Lebeau, she good- 
 humouredly smiled at the pleasantry, 
 which Chabouillant never failed to re- 
 peat with periodical exactness, whenever 
 he came to take leave before setting out 
 on a new expedition. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN the month of November, 1803, 
 Chabouillant was on the point of start- 
 ing for Germany. He had come to 
 receive Mademoiselle Lebeau's instruc- 
 tions, when Chevillard entered the pri- 
 vate room, to get her signature to some 
 letters which were to be dispatched by 
 that evening's post. "Whilst the young 
 lady was, according to her constant and 
 laudable practice, perusing the corres- 
 pondence before she signed it, and at 
 the same time attending to the applica- 
 tions of twenty customers, and three or 
 four shopwomen, Chabouillant took the 
 accountant on one side, and addressing 
 him in the peculiar style that he had 
 adopted: "Chevillard, prop, of this 
 honourable house," said he, " may I, 
 with the consent of the reigning powers, 
 make a proposal to you f" 
 
 " What is it ?" said Chevillard. 
 
 " You are doubtless aware," replied 
 the traveller, " that, in a few hours, a 
 rapid car will bear away your comrade 
 and friend, towards the "frontiers of the 
 Rhine ?" 
 
 "Ah! do you go this evening?" 
 observed the book-keeper, in more sober 
 prose. 
 
 " Yes, my dear fellow." 
 
 " "Well, I wish you a pleasant jour- 
 ney !" said Chevillard, mischievously. 
 " Don't forget to bring back the family 
 papers !" 
 
 " Xo joking iipon that subject, I 
 beg," replied Chabouillant, laying his 
 hand upon his heart with a melancholy 
 gesture. " I have a presentiment, that 
 
 during this journey ; but, enough ; 
 
 I come back to my proposal." 
 
 " Speak, man ! what is it about " 
 
 " It is, that the stage, which carries 
 me away this evening, will not stop 
 before eleven o'clock to-morrow morn- 
 ing, for breakfast ; so that, until that 
 moment, I shall be prohibited from 
 taking any species of sustenance " 
 
 "The deuce! that will be a long 
 fast." 
 
 " Too long for a stomach naturally 
 
 delicate. So I have some thoughts of 
 going, when I leave here, to the Palais 
 du Tribunat, to Fevrier's,* where the 
 cookery is not to be despised, and of 
 furnishing myself with an agreeable and 
 nourishing repast." 
 
 " By Jove ! not a bad precaution !" 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; but I do not wish 
 to dine all alone, like a hermit ; I 
 should like for us two to make a little 
 civic banquet, if you feel inclined." 
 
 " Thank you," said Chevillard ; " I 
 intend to work all the evening ; I must 
 make up some arrears." 
 
 " You can do that to-morrow ; a 
 day more or less, what does it sig- 
 nify >" 
 
 " No, I assure you, I would rather 
 not go out to-day." 
 
 " Chevillard !" replied the traveller, 
 in a sententious tone, " I think I have 
 had sufficient experience of life to 
 affirm that it is not natural for man 
 to refuse a good dinner ; there must 
 be some superlative reasons for your 
 squeamish scruples, which you do not 
 impart to your friend." 
 
 " "What reasons should I have ?" said 
 the book-keeper. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! perhaps we're afraid of 
 displeasing our charming employer." 
 
 " Oh, indeed !" returned Chevillard, 
 with' great dignityj " I should like to 
 see her find fault " 
 
 This declaration of independence was 
 interrupted by Mademoiselle Lebeau, 
 who had remained a stranger to the 
 foregoing conversation, but who now, 
 looking up from her letters, said to the 
 accountant, as if she had just remem- 
 bered the fact: " Mr. Chevillard, you 
 know that Madame Foubert did not 
 pay the draught for three thousand 
 francs this morning ; she promised to 
 be prepared to settle this evening, with- 
 out fail ; you had better call there 
 yourself, after dinner, and then if she 
 does not pay, you will be able to have 
 it protested early to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Well, now," said Chabouillant, ad- 
 dressing Chevillard, " I think you are 
 hooked this time. Here is Mademoi- 
 selle, who plays my game for me !" 
 
 " What game ?" asked the latter, who 
 had heard the concluding words. 
 
 " The case is this, fair lady : our 
 friend Chevillard, here present, peremp- 
 torily refuses to dine with me, for fear 
 of incurring your celestial indignation." 
 
 * A we'll known eating-house of the period. 
 It w.vs at this house that, in the time of the 
 Convention, Lepelletier de Saint-Fargeau was 
 assassinated.
 
 16 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 " I never said such a thing !" cried 
 Chevillard. 
 
 " Really, I should have felt astonished 
 
 f he had," replied Mademoiselle Le- 
 
 beau, with a slight degree of asperity, 
 
 for it is not my custom to interfere 
 
 with things which do not concern me." 
 
 " Oh, certainly !" said Chabouillant ; 
 
 but as you usually profess no very 
 great respect for my patriarchal virtues, 
 Chevillard imagines you would prefer 
 his being with any other host." 
 
 " If you take it in that point of view, 
 to be frank with you, my dear sir, you 
 have never appeared to me a model of 
 discretion and temperance ; and be- 
 tween ourselves, as bachelor-dinners do 
 not always suit Mr. Chevillard very 
 well, it would perhaps be more prudent 
 for him to dine here as usual, and to 
 refuse your invitation ; but I must beg 
 to remark, that he is old enough to act 
 for himself, and he must do just as he 
 pleases in the matter." 
 
 " Very lucky !" said Chevillard, in a 
 low tone ; whilst Chabouillant ex- 
 claimed : " You see, my dear fellow, 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau will not be angry 
 if you accompany me, especially if we 
 promise to behave well ; so, as you 
 must go out about this money, you can 
 have no possible reason to refuse my 
 invitation." 
 
 " At all events," said the book-keeper, 
 who had now made up his mind, " I 
 cannot go out as I am." 
 
 " Well, well ; that's soon Settled ! I 
 will go up stairs with you, and/you shall 
 have half an hour's grace for the duties 
 of the toilet. At the same time, I can 
 see your room, which I am told is a 
 perfect little palace." 
 
 " Have you any other commands for 
 me r" said Chevillard to Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, with a kind of mock humility. 
 
 " Oh, no !" replied she ; " only, I 
 should advise you to present the draught 
 before dinner. ' 
 
 " Now, that is too bad," said Cha- 
 bouillant, " I could never have sup- 
 posed such insinuations " 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau did not give 
 him time to finish the sentence ; without 
 precisely turning her back upon him, 
 as soon as .she had made this severe 
 remark, she rose, and, approaching the 
 fire, began to stir arid arrange it. Per- 
 haps she wished to avoid observation. 
 
 Chevillard, on his part, had looked 
 very black upon receiving this palpable 
 hit, and, going out first, exclaimed with 
 some temper to his companion : " Do 
 you mean to come or not :" 
 
 Chabouillant staid, however, to ad- 
 dress a chivalrous farewell to Mademoi- 
 selle Lebeau, and insinuated something 
 relative to the speedy and inevitable 
 discovery of his family, which would 
 allow him to indulge in flattering hopes ! 
 But his pleasantry was on this day 
 received with the most chilling reserve, 
 and the only answer vouchsafed, was a 
 short and imperative request to write, 
 as soon as he reached Strasburg, con- 
 cerning the "shaded ribbons." Seeing 
 that laughter was not the order of the 
 day, and that the Tricoloured Fairy was 
 in no mirthful humour, he made his 
 obeisance with the most elaborate as- 
 sumption of politeness, and hastened 
 after his guest, who, tired of waiting, 
 had gone on first. 
 
 When the two friends were again 
 together, and whilst they were climbing 
 the ninety-five steps that led to Chevil- 
 lard's room, the latter said : " Did you 
 notice how high Mademoiselle Lebeau 
 was, merely because I talked of going 
 out"-" 
 
 " "Why, you know, my good friend," 
 replied Chabouillant, " that I have the 
 reputation of being a very dangerous 
 fellow, and people are reluctant to trust 
 innocence in my wily hands." 
 
 " That's not it. It is pure tyranny. 
 All employers are so ; they think one 
 ought not to stir. But it was just the 
 ill-will that was displayed, which in- 
 duced me to accept your invitation ; I 
 am determined I will not be led like a 
 child !" 
 
 " My good friend, Chevillard," said 
 the other, pompously, " you understand 
 nothing about women ; this charming 
 creature looks sweet on you, take my 
 word for it. She trembles to vsee me 
 your associate : it's quite natural ; you 
 are a tender plant that she wishes to 
 shield from the storm." 
 
 " You dream," replied Chevillard, 
 opening the door of his room. 
 
 The commercial traveller did not for 
 the moment continue the conversation, 
 so much was he surprised at the almost j 
 sumptuous elegance that met his view. 
 Being the sole heiress of her parents, 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau found herself, at 
 their death, mistress of a quantity of 
 furniture, for a great part of which she 
 had no use ; under the specious pretext 
 of keeping it in good condition, but in 
 reality to prepare an agreeable surprise 
 for Chevillard, who at the time was 
 absent on family business, she had 
 caused a complete alteration to be made 
 in the arrangements of his room. When
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 17 
 
 the fortunate clerk returned, he found, 
 instead of the former scanty furniture 
 in humble walnut, a bedstead wardrobe, 
 and o*her tiseful articles, of solid ma- 
 hogany, enriched, according to the 
 fashion of the day, with a profusion 
 of gilded bronze ornaments, among 
 which were conspicuous, the eternal 
 sphinxes, so universally adopted as 
 decorations, since the Egyptian cam- 
 paign. 
 
 The bed, soft and downy as that of a 
 prebendary, was shaded by curtains of 
 a light texture, supported on a gilded 
 pole. The pattern was large yellow 
 
 rosettes, on a red ground, and the win- 
 dow was hung with draperies of the 
 same material, and with worked muslin, 
 surmounted by rich silk fringe. The 
 chimney-slab was adorned with an 
 alabaster clock, and two vases of artifi- 
 cial flowers, protected by glass shades ; 
 and at the corner of the fire-place, a 
 blue velvet easy-chair extended its arms 
 (to use a then common expression) to 
 invite to drowsiness and listless reverie. 
 Add two corresponding arm-chairs, a 
 few other seats of highly polished 
 cherry-wood, with straw bottoms, and a 
 washing-stand of classical shape, and
 
 18 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 we shall have an accurate inventory of 
 Chevillard's effects. 
 
 By a rare piece of good fortune, in 
 that close and populous neighbourhood, 
 the room faced the east, and being 
 situated in a back part of the premises, 
 had before it, a vast, open space, and 
 enjoyed all the advantages of free air 
 and light. When, on a fine spring day, 
 the morning sun darted its bright rays 
 on the carefully waxed floor, shining 
 like a mirror, it seemed to bring with it 
 a host of pleasant thoughts, and the 
 heart of the young man sung for joy. 
 
 While gazing round the apartment, 
 Chabouillant suddenly espied a pair of 
 elegant watch-pockets, in blue flowered 
 satin, edged with pink chenille, hanging 
 by the side of the chimney-glass. " Ah ! 
 ah! you sly fellow," said he ; "it seems 
 you are in favour with the fair sex !" 
 
 " That ! Oh, that was a birthday- 
 present from Mademoiselle Lebeau." 
 
 " Well now, what did I tell you ?" 
 
 " No, no, you are mistaken," replied 
 Chevillard ; " Mademoiselle Lebeau 
 does not think of me and for that 
 matter, I have no thoughts of her," 
 added he, with a shade of foppery in 
 his manner, as he arranged the bow of 
 an enormous cravat, like those which 
 Mr. de Talleyrand wore to the last. 
 
 " Why are you so difficult to please ? 
 The girl' is very good-looking, my dear 
 fellow." 
 
 " Pooh !" said Chevillard, disdain- 
 fully. 
 
 " How now ! as fresh as a rose, an 
 engaging air, fine eyes, beautiful teeth, 
 a charming hand ; what more do you 
 require ?" 
 
 " Do you admire the colour of her 
 hair ?" said the book-keeper. 
 
 "To be sure ! Splendid hair, as 
 black as jet." 
 
 " Well ! that does not suit my taste ; 
 I am for the fair girls." 
 
 " I am not like you," cried the other; 
 " fair or dark, I love them all ; if Dame 
 Nature produced any tri-coloured beau- 
 ties, I should love them too, dear 
 creatures !" 
 
 " I confess," continued Chevillard, 
 " that I should be capable of commit- 
 ting any folly for a fair woman, but a 
 brunette has no charm for me ; and 
 then, between ourselves, even if I could 
 make up my mind to marry a person 
 engaged in business, I should think 
 twice before addressing the lady in 
 question ; she has a very pretty little 
 will of her own. You saw a sample of 
 it, just now." 
 
 Whilst the two clerks were thus 
 chatting together, Chevillard had put 
 the finishing touch to his toilet, by in- 
 vesting himself with what was then 
 called a spencer ; it was a winter-gar- 
 ment much resembling a jacket, from 
 beneath which the tails of the coat 
 peeped out in a very ludicrous style. 
 Having informed his companion that he 
 was now at his commands, they started 
 for the before-mentioned eating-house. 
 The book-keeper had been so hurt at 
 the ironical advice offered him by 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau, that he resolved 
 not to attend to it, and to assert his 
 independence, by leaving the draught 
 unsettled until he had packed the 
 virtuous Chabouillant into the stage- 
 coach; but the latter, who, notwith- 
 standing his levity, looked upon busi- 
 ness as a serious matter, insisted that 
 the money should be received before 
 dinner. 
 
 " No one," said he, ingenuously, 
 11 when he sits down to table, can tell 
 how he will leave it." 
 
 As Madame Foubert's residence was 
 in the same direction as the eating- 
 house, whither the two friends were 
 bound, Chevillard at last yielded to the 
 remonstrances of the other, and called 
 upon the defaulter, who, without any 
 more delay, paid the amount of three 
 thousand francs in bank-notes. 
 
 " Now," said Chabouillant, " we have 
 nothing to think of, and may proceed 
 at once to our little gastronomical ope- 
 ration." 
 
 They were soon after comfortably 
 seated at a table ; not at Fevrier's how- 
 ever, as was their first intention, for the 
 rooms were full, but in a superior 
 establishment, the celebrated Robert's, 
 which had been opened near the Palais- 
 Royal, in the early days of the Conven- 
 tion, in a style of true republican sim- 
 plicity, but which had already acquired 
 a reputation for splendour. The dinner 
 offered nothing worthy of particular 
 remark ; Chabouillant was noisy and 
 familiar with the waiters, whom he 
 summoned by ringing with his knife 
 upon a glass, and endeavoured to show 
 off as a man accustomed to good society, 
 by being very difficult to please, and by 
 finding fault with almost every dish that 
 was brought in. He also took care to 
 give all possible publicity to his con- 
 versation, by pitching it in a key that 
 might be heard at the further end of 
 the room; and laboured to fascinate a 
 modest looking young woman, who sat 
 opposite to him, by staring at her in the
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 19 
 
 most impudent and pertinacious man- 
 ner. But he did not obtain a glance in 
 return. As for other matters, he prided 
 himself upon doing things handsomely ; 
 neither wine nor good cheer was spared, 
 and if Chevillard had not resisted the 
 increasing warmth of his generosity, 
 the chances are that they might have 
 drained the cellar. 
 
 The bill being paid, they went to take 
 coffee in a place of no very good repute, 
 which was in those days crowded to 
 witness the performances of a learned 
 dog, and a ventriloquist named Fitz- 
 James. The coffee was of course suc- 
 ceeded by every possible variety of 
 liqueurs, and when Chevillard, who was 
 nearly done tip, cried mercy, Chabouil- 
 lant declared that he should not con- 
 sider him as his friend, if he refused to 
 join him in a bowl of punch! The re- 
 sult of all this friendship was, that when 
 the two revellers left, to take a stroll 
 in the galleries, they had very nearly 
 reached the highest pitch of excitement. 
 
 When Chabouillant had indulged in 
 wine, he was gay and communicative ; 
 Chevillard, on the contrary, was not 
 outwardly excited, and for this reason, 
 was not much the worse for these sort 
 of excesses. Silent and abstracted, as 
 the fumes mounted to his brain, his 
 thoughts took a rapid and tumultuous 
 course ; and whilst his companion 
 flirted with the easy beauties who 
 thronged the Palais-Royal, or mance- 
 uvred to obtain a bow from the second 
 consul Cambaceres, who was taking his 
 accustomed walk with his acolytes, 
 Grimod de la Reyniere, and d'Aigre- 
 feuille, he thought of the little dispute 
 he had had two hours before with his 
 employer, and asked himself if he was 
 in a social position worthy of his supe- 
 rior talents. At a period of revolution- 
 ary movement, when he had seen so 
 many splendid fortunes rise from obscu- 
 rity, was he to aim at nothing higher 
 than an obscure existence in a shop of 
 the Quarter de Saint-Denis ? Thus fol- 
 lowing each the bent of his humour, the 
 two friends arrived before a house of 
 disgraceful celebrity, which was closed 
 only a few years ago. This haunt had 
 taken its name from the number which 
 was above the door, and was commonly 
 called No. 113, without any further ex- 
 planation. 
 
 It happened that Chabouillant, the day 
 before, had read in a newspaper some 
 curious observations concerning this dis- 
 reputable place ; and as commercial 
 travellers are very fond of speaking the 
 
 articles they read, our hero resolved to 
 appropriate the remarks in question. 
 He dragged Chevillard into the middle 
 of the garden, and placing him in front 
 of the suspicious looking house, exclaim- 
 ed in a doctoral tone : " Chevillard, 
 my friend, be so good as to consider that 
 edifice !" 
 
 " Well ! what about that ?" said 
 Chevillard, who perceived nothing re- 
 markable. 
 
 " Why, man, are you not struck with 
 the strangely philosophical connexion of 
 the divers callings sheltered by that 
 roof?" 
 
 " Upon my word, I am not !" replied 
 the other, looking more narrowly. 
 
 Now, Chabouillant had passed many 
 hundred times before this very place, 
 and truth compels us to state, had even 
 frequently entered it, without having 
 been more quick-sighted than the book- 
 keeper ; but, full of his newly acquired 
 experience, he continued in the words of 
 the newspaper: " Look there ! On the 
 first floor, a gambling-table ; 
 
 " On the second, a pawnbroker's ; 
 
 " On the third, a harem ; 
 
 " A dram shop in the porter's lodge ; 
 
 " And lastly, on the groundfloor, a 
 gunsmith's shop. 
 
 " So that, within these narrow limits, 
 a man finds all that he wants to live 
 merrily and die badly." 
 
 " Well, that's certainly odd enough!" 
 was all Chevillard' s reply. 
 
 " By the way," said his friend, struck 
 with a sudden thought ; " have you 
 ever been in a gambling-house?" 
 
 Chevillard, having confessed his inno- 
 cence in this respect, the other ex- 
 claimed : " Oh ! it's worth seeing, and 
 since we are close at hand " 
 
 " But the stage will leave without 
 you!" 
 
 " I have full three-quarters of an hour 
 to spare," said Chabouillant, after con- 
 sxilting his watch. 
 
 " And the money I have about me ?" 
 
 " The money ? No one will take it 
 from you. There are excellent police 
 regulations in these places, and a thief 
 had better not venture there, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 Chabouillant either deceived, or was 
 deceived. Some years later, govern- 
 ment turned its attention to the subject 
 of providing for the security of those 
 who frequented gambling-houses ; but, 
 at the time of which we write, scanda- 
 lous scenes were of frequent occurrence. 
 To give an example in point, some 
 blacklegs tried one day to blow up the
 
 20 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK: on, 
 
 bank, by placing fireworks under the 
 roulette - table ; these exploded, and 
 wounded several of the persons who 
 were present. 
 
 Since this event, the directors of the 
 place had adopted the strangest expedi- 
 ent, to protect themselves from the 
 attempts and turbulence of the gamesters. 
 They had taken into their pay a band 
 of ruffians, called the Infernal Band, who 
 constantly awaited their orders at a 
 neighbouring tavern, which they had 
 converted into a species of arsenal. 
 These men not being invested with any 
 public authority, would not have at- 
 tempted to arrest a disturber of the 
 peace they had too much respect for 
 the liberty of the subject ; but if any 
 one complained of the game, or ex- 
 pressed discontent, the supporters of the 
 establishment were instantly summoned, 
 and after they had sought a quarrel with 
 him, they carried him into the Rue de 
 Valois, and exhorted him not to make 
 so much noise. Then, leaving him the 
 choice of weapons, they contrived by 
 chance or design to inflict some hurt, to 
 cool his blood, as their phrase was. If 
 death ensued, and justice made inquiries 
 into the affair, it passed as a meeting 
 resulting from a quarrel at the gaming- 
 table, and nothing more was said. 
 
 These things considered, the amuse- 
 ment proposed by Chabouillant, was of 
 a rather dangerous nature, and Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau was happily inspired, 
 when she opposed a pleasure party, 
 which was to end by initiating Chevil- 
 lard in the mysteries of this den of 
 iniquity. But the latter was not in 
 possession of his cool judgment ; be- 
 sides, he intended merely to take a 
 hasty glance, and then to accompany 
 his friend to the coach ; so he followed 
 him without any objection, and, in a few 
 minutes more, entered the gambling- 
 establishment on the first-floor. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHABOVILLAXT was well acquainted 
 with the usages of the place, and at 
 once deposited his hat with an individual 
 who was stationed in the antechamber 
 for that purpose, and who was called the 
 hat-man. But Chevillard, thinking that 
 this was an optional proceeding, de- 
 clared his intention of leaving in a very 
 short time, and that it was perfectly 
 unnecessary to trouble any one to take 
 charge of that part of his attire. His 
 companion then explained to him, that 
 what he supposed to be a mark of 
 
 courtesy, was in reality one of mistrust ; 
 the custom of exchanging your hat upon 
 entering, for a card bearing a number, 
 was adopted, in order to oppose a check 
 to the escape of any enterprising thief, 
 who might endeavour to rush out of the 
 place, with the money belonging to the 
 bank, or the players. This had been 
 really effected several times, but the 
 precautions now taken greatly facilitated 
 the pursuit and arrest of the audacious 
 pilferer, even if he managed to elude 
 the vigilance of the attendants, and to 
 venture out bareheaded. 
 
 On entering the sanctuary, Chevillard 
 was first struck with the solemn silence 
 which reigned in the numerous assem- 
 bly before him. Only the monotonous 
 voice of the banker was heard at in- 
 tervals, pronouncing the sacramental 
 words : " Make your game, gentlemen ! 
 The game is made! All is done!" 
 (that is to say, the stakes are on the table, 
 and cannot be withdrawn); and soon 
 after proclaiming the decrees of fate : 
 " Number 25, black, odd and wins ; Xum- 
 ber 12, red, even, and loses;" according 
 to the number, colour, and combinations, 
 which had turned up. 
 
 The altar erected by these worshippers 
 of Chance, was an oblong table, rounded 
 at the ends ; in the centre was fixed the 
 roulette, a sort of hollow cylinder, turn- 
 ing on an axis, and fitted with alternate 
 red and black divisions, each marked 
 with a number. This cylinder having 
 been previously set in motion, the tail- 
 leur threw from his hand in an inverse 
 direction, an ivory ball, which, after 
 bounding several times from side to side, 
 lodged in one of the divisions, and thus 
 decided the successive chances. At the 
 four corners of the roulette, facing each 
 other, after the fashion of the cardinal 
 points, were four tailleurs or bankers, 
 who presided at the game. Before them 
 was a sura of forty to fifty thousand 
 francs, in silver, gold, and bank notes : 
 this was the bank ; fror~ it the gains of 
 the players were paid, ai,d it was replen- 
 ished from their losses, which were 
 quickly gathered up by attendants 
 armed with long maces. The table was 
 covered with green cloth, printed with 
 various designs : first came a pattern of 
 red and black lozenges ; then three 
 longitudinal rows of twelve numbers, 
 surmounted by nought and double nought. 
 By placing money upon the devices or 
 the numbers, any person secured a share 
 in this lottery in action. 
 
 The players, or ponies as they were 
 termed in the jargon of the place,
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 21 
 
 crowded round the table in various atti- 
 tudes, and displayed the most opposite 
 emotions. Some manifested a real or 
 affected indifference, others laid no re- 
 straint upon their feelings and expres- 
 sions ; several tried to calculate chances, 
 and followed with eager solicitude the 
 capricious fluctuations of the game, 
 pricking them down upon cards prepared 
 for the study, and generously provided 
 by the establishment ; a few were seri- 
 ously occupied with algebraical compu- 
 tations, by which they were certain to 
 foretel the number to be drawn ; others 
 were gravely taking notes to establish 
 an infallible system which they were on 
 the point of discovering ; and finally, 
 some exhibited the strongest supersti- 
 tions, such as stopping their ears with 
 great care, so as not to hear the banker 
 call out the numbers, which they never- 
 theless saio quite plainly. 
 
 Chabouillant allowed his friend to 
 examine all this for some time without 
 interruption ; then, having brifley ex- 
 plained to him the theory of the game, 
 he added : " Well ! shall we court the 
 fickle goddess t" 
 
 " Where would be the good of it r" 
 asked Chevillard. 
 
 " Oh ! it's one way of trying a man's 
 fortune. And the experience thus 
 gained may be useful in many other 
 affairs of life." 
 
 " I know all that I desire on that 
 subject," replied the book-keeper, in a 
 melancholy tone ; " I have no luck in 
 any thing." 
 
 " Well, you can but try ; for the best 
 of these places is, that, in a single turn, 
 a man may ride to the top of the tree. 
 I do not aim so high ; I only wish the 
 bank to be civil enough to defray our 
 dinner expenses." 
 
 So saying, he placed a five-franc piece 
 upon a single number ; the number was 
 called, and he received thirty-five times 
 the amount of his stake. He then tried 
 a few other turns, and won each time. 
 Turning to Chevillard, he exclaimed : 
 " You see, my friend, people don't ruin 
 themselves quite so often as it is asserted 
 they do, at this -noble game!" 
 
 Chevillard had been silently making 
 the same remark. " Come," said the 
 other, " risk two francs." 
 
 The lowest amount of the stakes had 
 been fixed at this limit, in favour of the 
 indigent, working-classes, the habitual 
 frequenters of the house. Chevillard 
 was ashamed to hesitate at so trifling a 
 sum, and threw down a two-franc piece 
 upon the table, but he awaited the re- 
 
 sult with marked anxiety. He felt as if 
 this trial of his fortune, would open to 
 him a vista into futurity. 
 
 The response of the oracle was very 
 encouraging. Without any clear notion 
 of the intricacies of the game, Chevillard 
 had placed his money upon two num- 
 bers, this move brought liim seventeen 
 times the amount that he had staked. 
 The first step having been attended with 
 so much success, he resolved to go on. 
 We will not enter into the detail of all 
 his lucky hits, but, at the end of another 
 quarter of an hour, Chabouillant and he 
 had realized about a hundred crowns. 
 
 "Confound it!" then exclaimed the 
 commercial traveller, looking at the 
 clock, which would soon point to the 
 hour fixed for his departure ; " it is un- 
 fortunate, that honour and duty call me 
 hence ! This was not a bad beginning. 
 But will you marry?" 
 
 " How, marry !" asked the book- 
 keeper. 
 
 " Yes, throw our winnings into one 
 heap. You can continue to court For- 
 tune, and, at my return, you will give 
 me an account of the profits of this part- 
 nership concern." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I will leave with you," re- 
 plied Chevillard, startled at the idea of 
 remaining in that place without his 
 companion. 
 
 " What are you thinking of? Will you 
 throw up the run of good luck which is 
 evidently before you ? What shall we 
 gain by ten minutes more of each other's 
 society ? Why, my good fellow, it will 
 be much better for you to make your 
 own fortune and mine ; so shake hands, 
 and good bye for a time ! I hope that 
 when we next meet, you will have a 
 good round sum to pay over to me." 
 
 The fact is, the neophyte was already 
 under the fascination of gain, and Cha- 
 bouillant had not much difficulty to 
 persuade him. The two friends shook 
 hands very cordially, and Chevillard 
 immediately returned to the gaming- 
 table ; he even advanced a step further 
 in his noviciate ; continuing to play 
 standing, he took a seat which had just 
 been vacated by a fortunate gamester. 
 Thus conveniently placed to study the 
 mechanism of the different combina- 
 tions, and with the aid of his skill in 
 figures, the accountant soon made him- 
 self acquainted with what might be 
 termed the mysteries of the game, if all 
 foresight and calculated probabilities 
 were not continually frustrated by the 
 freaks of chance. He then began to 
 combine a plan, and placed his money
 
 22 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 with more thought and method ; but 
 this system did not prosper, and he lost 
 several moves in succession. The joint 
 capital was already seriously diminished, 
 when Chevillard, who had become 
 superstitious at the same time that he 
 became a gamester, took up a strange 
 notion, but one which would not have 
 appeared extravagant to the most ex- 
 perienced frequenter of the place. 
 
 Opposite to him, and taking no part 
 in the game, stood a man of common- 
 place appearance, who appeared to re- 
 gard him with a steady gaze. When- 
 ever he met the eye of this stranger 
 whilst staking his money, it seemed to 
 the book-keeper that chance was favour- 
 able to him ; and on the contrary he 
 thought it turned against him, when the 
 sympathetic glance was in any other 
 direction. A man will soon learn to 
 risk boldly when he thinks he has found 
 a hold upon fortune. Encouraged by 
 the remark he had made, Chevillard 
 began to put forward more considerable 
 sums, and being still favoured by chance, 
 the joint-stock concern of Chabouillant 
 & Co. found itself, at the end of an hour 
 and a half, in possession of a capital of 
 six thousand francs, of which three 
 thousand would go to the share of the 
 lucky novice. 
 
 Those, who have not visited the 
 haunts of gamblers, can have no idea 
 how much their determinations are in- 
 fluenced by round sums. A. player, 
 having made large profits, feels inclined 
 to retire from the table ; but something 
 is still wanting to complete the cypher 
 he intended to attain, and, in pursuing 
 this fraction, he loses all that he had 
 before gained. Another appears to be 
 in a fair way of breaking the bank ; he 
 is in what is termed a formidable vein ; 
 nothing, neither his mistakes nor his 
 address, neither his hesitation nor his 
 boldness, appears to affect it ; he wins 
 because he does win, that is the only 
 reason. But he had settled in his own 
 mind: " I will not exceed a certain 
 sum ;" and that sum is his possesion, he 
 retires thus evincing, doubtless, much 
 wisdom and fortitude, but missing 
 nevertheless the fortune that was within 
 his grasp. 
 
 Chevillard was one of these prudent 
 players. Finding himself master of the 
 unexpected amount of six thousand 
 francs, he changed it into gold, divided 
 it into two equal shares, which he 
 placed separately in the pockets of his 
 waistcoat, and gaily left the apartment. 
 When he arrived in the antechamber, 
 
 he found that the individual to whom 
 he attributed an influence over his des- 
 tiny, was already there ; and, while 
 waiting for his hat, the stranger ap- 
 proached, and in a low and expressive 
 tone, addressed him thus : " Sir, if I 
 were the partner, who parted from you 
 a short time since, confiding his inte- 
 rests to your care decidedly, I would 
 never forgive you." 
 
 Surprised at this speech, Chevillard 
 looked at him without returning any 
 aeswer. 
 
 " Yes, .sir, I should be mortally 
 offended ; for it is incredible, that a man 
 who has but to stretch out his hand to 
 secure a fortune, should so unskilfully 
 let it slip from his grasp." 
 
 " But I have gained a pretty sum," 
 replied Chevillard; " and you know the 
 old maxim, do not make too free with 
 fortune." 
 
 " Nonsense!" said the stranger, with 
 an impatient gesture ; " when you are 
 in such a lucky vein, and with your 
 genius for play (for I watched you, you 
 did not make a single false move), you 
 ought not to give over till you had 
 broken the bank two or three times." 
 
 " How you talk !" said Chevillard, 
 not at all offended however at being 
 tutored in this fashion. 
 
 " Well, well," replied the other, lower- 
 ing his tone, " I am perhaps in the 
 wrong to interfere in your affairs, but I 
 feel so confident that you are missing 
 an opportunity " 
 
 " Do you often play ;" asked the 
 book-keeper. 
 
 " Sometimes ; but I more often look 
 on, and if, like me, you had observed 
 the countenances of the bankers, you 
 would have seen that they followed 
 your play with considerable anxiety, 
 and your departure must have been a 
 great relief to them." 
 
 " Well, sir, if you counsel me, I will 
 make another attempt," said Chevillard, 
 who had, as Ave know, private reasons 
 for listening with deference to the 
 opinion of his adviser, and returning the 
 hat to the attendant, he re-entered his 
 room. 
 
 " Now, if I might presume to direct 
 you," continued the stranger, who 
 accompanied him, " I think it would 
 be desirable to increase your stakes ; a 
 vein, you see, is a thing which wears 
 itself out, and you should make the 
 best of it while it lasts." 
 
 Perhaps you are right," said Chevil- 
 lard ; " but would you have any objec- 
 tion to place yourself opposite to me ?
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 23 
 
 I have more confidence if I am looked 
 at." 
 
 " Willingly," returned the officious 
 stranger ; and he took his post at the 
 other side of the table, facing CheTillard, 
 who commenced operations by placing 
 ten pieces of gold upon one number. 
 
 This stake of two hundred francs, 
 multiplied by thirty-five, brought a 
 return of seven thousand francs, and the 
 timid young man, who, two hours be- 
 fore, trembled as he threw down a coin 
 of small value, now, flushed with suc- 
 cess, risked still higher sums with in- 
 creasing boldness, till he created quite 
 a sensation among the surrounding 
 gamesters, most of whom were men of 
 small means. The bankers, disquieted 
 by the proceedings of their formidable 
 adversary, sent for supplies to be ready 
 to meet any emergency ; and the inte- 
 rest excited by this duel was powerful 
 enough to suspend all other hostilities. 
 It was like one of the combats in an 
 epic-poem, when two generals meet, 
 and their armies stand motionless to 
 witness the encounter. 
 
 The object of general attention, daz- 
 zled by the piles of gold before him, and 
 moreover encouraged by the glances of 
 his mysterious protector, Chevillard, 
 whose reason was still disordered from 
 the effects of the wine and spirits he had 
 taken, advanced to the extreme limits 
 of temerity, until at length fortune 
 seemed to take a turn. This was cer- 
 tainly a warning that it was time to 
 leave off ; but as his stakes had been 
 high, the first losses made a consider- 
 able hole in his profits ; and, considering 
 this to be but a momentary check, he, 
 applied himself with fresh ardour to re- 
 cover his advantages, staked larger 
 sums, and began to play like a man who 
 had lost his self-possession. The fall 
 was still more rapid than the rise had 
 been ; in less than half an hour, the im- 
 prudent young man had restored all his 
 winnings to the bank, and had lost even 
 the money which he had risked in the 
 first instance. 
 
 " Cleaned oui !" said one of the by- 
 standers, rudely, meaning to express by 
 this slang phrase that Chevillard was 
 completely ruined. 
 
 " Do you think so ?" replied the 
 latter, his self-love deeply wounded by 
 these words, and casting a disdainful 
 glance upon the illbred speaker ; then 
 taking a pocket-book from his coat, he 
 drew from it one of the three notes he 
 had received a few hours before for the 
 house to which he was cashier. He 
 
 passed this to the nearest banker, say- 
 ing in an imperious tone : " Gold for 
 this note." 
 
 " He has still some notes," said the 
 spectators among themselves ; and the 
 struggle became doubly interesting. 
 
 The banker soon handed over forty- 
 nine pieces of gold, worth twenty francs 
 each, and the odd money of the fiftieth 
 piece, out of which he kept the value of 
 the exchange. Chevillard divided this 
 sum into four parts, and began to play. 
 The first move was favourable ; he 
 might have repaid the money he had 
 taken, and have retired with a slight 
 profit ; but he was already a gambler in 
 every sense of the word, and viewing 
 this lucky chance as a definitive return 
 of fortune, he risked at one stake the 
 whole sum that was before him ; an- 
 nouncing his intention, according to the 
 established formula. The mace swept 
 everything away. "Without manifesting 
 the least emotion, but with the cool de- 
 cision of a man who has made up his 
 mind, he again opened the pocket-book, 
 and handing its contents to the banker: 
 " Change," said he, " for these two 
 notes." 
 
 Ninety-nine gold pieces were counted 
 out to him, and they only passed 
 through his hands. When he had but 
 five louis left, he thought he would 
 wear out the run of ill-luck by procras- 
 tinating the result ; he changed his gold 
 into silver, and began to play five francs 
 at a time, with a miserable alternation of 
 loss and gain, the former greatly pre- 
 ponderating. Resolved to maintain the 
 struggle to the last, he submitted to 
 change his last five-franc piece into 
 smaller coin. He first staked three 
 francs, which were immediately swept 
 away in the vortex. Before risking the 
 two francs which remained, his last 
 hope, he appeared to pause and murmur 
 some inarticulate words, perhaps a 
 prayer; the number was announced, 
 the unhappy man had lost ! 
 
 Then affecting a calm demeanour, but 
 pale, with haggard eyes, and the cold 
 sweat standing upon his forehead, he 
 left the apartment where his ruin had 
 been consummated, and which an hour 
 earlier he was quitting with a joyous 
 heart. The fatal individual, to whom 
 this unfortunate young man had attribu- 
 ted an influence of which circumstances 
 had clearly proved the fallacy, presumed 
 to follow him, and, expressing his re- 
 gret and sympathy, placed his purse at 
 Chevillard's disposal, and advised him 
 to make a fresh trial of fortune. But
 
 24 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; O.R, 
 
 the victim of his dangerous counsels 
 would not even look at him, and, desir- 
 ing him to leave him, rushed from the 
 'fatal spot. He descended the stairs 
 rapidly, but, struck with a sudden idea, 
 he stopped ; and retracing his steps, 
 went up to the floor above the gambling- 
 establishment, where the pawnbroker's 
 was situated, which being a charitable 
 institution, never closed until after its 
 neighbour. He deposited a gold watch, 
 received an advance of five louis, and, 
 impelled by despair, soon reappeared at 
 the roulette table. It seemed as if the 
 man who had exercised so disastrous an 
 influence upon his actions had some 
 interest to watch the event, for, almost 
 at the same moment, he likewise re- 
 turned to the room. But he took care 
 to keep out of sight, and mixed with a 
 group in the background ; either be- 
 cause prudence was necessary to his 
 plans, or that he feared the pertinacity 
 of his attention would at length lead to 
 some dispute with its object. 
 
 Chevillard's last struggle with the 
 bank was of short duration. If chance 
 has no rules, it has nevertheless its pre- 
 cedents, and when it has once decidedly 
 turned against a man, it rarely changes 
 in his favour, during the same sitting. 
 This fact was so well known to all 'pre- 
 sent, that the entrance of the actor, who 
 a moment before excited so much curi- 
 osity, was scarcely noticed, and he lost 
 sixty francs of the sum he had just 
 raised, without awakening interest or 
 sympathy. His fatal destiny had al- 
 ready led him to two floors of the house, 
 the distribution of which had been 
 pointed out to him by Chabouillant ; he 
 was in no humour to seek consolation 
 in the upper story, but he remembered 
 that below was sold the terrible re- 
 source of those, who have no other re- 
 source left : and having kept enough 
 for this gloomy acquisition, he de- 
 scended to the gunsmith's shop, and 
 without giving any explanation of the 
 use he intended to make of it, he 
 bought a pistol, which the man very 
 obligingly loaded in his presence. 
 
 Thus armed, he entered the tavern, 
 and swallowed several glasses of rum, 
 whilst writing a letter, which he sealed, 
 directed, and placed carefully in his 
 pocket-book, in the place of the notes, 
 he had fraudulently taken. Having 
 concluded these preparations, he went 
 out into the Rue de Yalois, and walked 
 up and down for some time, in all the 
 agitation of a man who pauses at the 
 brink of an irrevocable resolution ; then, 
 
 drawing out the pistol, he placed it to 
 his forehead. At that moment, before he 
 had time to pull the trigger, a vigorous 
 hand seized his arm ; surprised, he 
 turned round, and by the pale light of 
 a lamp, recognised the stranger of the 
 gambling-table. 
 
 " Are you the demon ?" exclaimed 
 Chevillard, enraged ; " can you not 
 leave those, whom you have urged to 
 the last extremity, to die in peace ?" 
 
 " For shame !" was the reply. " At 
 your time of life, does a man kill him- 
 self for a miserable sum of a thousand 
 crowns ! I know your case ; it has 
 happened twenty times before. You 
 staked money that was not yours, and 
 now a false sense of honour drives you 
 to commit suicide." 
 
 " And if that were the case, how can 
 it concern you?" 
 
 " I tell you again, a man does not 
 kill himself for three thousand francs. 
 With a little perseverance, he may al- 
 ways find some one willing to lend them 
 to him ; and if you like to call upon 
 me to-morrow, they are at your dis- 
 posal." 
 
 Chevillard could not fail to attend to 
 this abrupt offer of service, which drew 
 him back to life, and gazing at the 
 stranger: " Sir," said he, " who then 
 are you, to trouble yourself thus about 
 my fate ?" 
 
 " A friend of humanity, young man," 
 replied the stranger, solemnly; " and, 
 above all, an enemy to gambling- 
 houses." 
 
 " Singular ! I should have thought 
 rather " 
 
 " That I am one of their abettors. 
 Speak your mind frankly." 
 
 " Why, you cannot deny that your 
 conduct to me " 
 
 " My conduct," interrupted the other, 
 " is explained by my knowledge of the 
 human heart. When we have to deal 
 with any passion, we should never 
 openly oppose it." 
 
 " It would be as well not to stimulate 
 it." 
 
 " Come now, young man, if I had left 
 you to yourself, what would have been 
 the result? This evening, you were 
 successful ; to-morrow, the love of gain 
 would have induced you to return ; the 
 day after to-morrow, perhaps, you 
 would have become an irreclaimable 
 gamester. I wished to stop you on the 
 descent ; everything happened as I had 
 foreseen ; I confess that the lesson has 
 been a rude one, but I am sure it will 
 be of use to you. You are not the first
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 25 
 
 whom I have thus served : I visit al- 
 most every evening the fatal house you 
 have just left, and whenever I meet 
 with an imprudent and inexperienced 
 youth, I act towards him as I have done 
 this evening towards you." 
 
 " If you have often to advance sums 
 to this amount, I should think your 
 lessons must cost you dear !" 
 
 " Less than you may think, because 
 I know how to discriminate, and address 
 myself only to young men of sound in- 
 tegrity ; I give them their own time, 
 and they repay me. How many have 
 since told me, that they owed me their 
 
 honour and the tranquillity of their life ! 
 I have even been enabled to establish, 
 some of them advantageously." 
 
 " Possibly so ; nevertheless, you are a 
 singular man." 
 
 " Yes," answered the philanthropist, 
 " I have my little eccentricities ; but 
 when we are better acquainted, you will 
 find me a devilish good fellow. Here," 
 added he, tearing a leaf from a memo- 
 randum, book, and writing a few words 
 in pencil, " here is my address ; to- 
 morrow, I shall be at your service." 
 
 Chevillard did not think himself 
 justified in rejecting this means of es-
 
 26 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 cape, for, after all, it was the instigator 
 of his fault who now offered him the 
 means of repairing it. 
 
 " Could I see you rather early ?" 
 asked he. " You are aware, that the 
 money I lost must be accounted for in 
 the course of the morning." 
 
 " Your hour shall be mine," replied 
 the officious stranger. 
 
 And thereupon, they parted. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHEN Chevillard found himself alone, 
 he felt a natural curiosity to know who 
 was the man that had connected him- 
 self in so singular a manner with his 
 existence. He stepped into the Palais- 
 Royal, which was not quite so badly 
 lighted as the Rue de Yalois, and suc- 
 ceeded in deciphering these words upon 
 the paper which he had given him : Le- 
 gros, Law-Agent, Riiedes Moulins, No. 12. 
 
 In our days, the title of laic-agent is 
 nearly obsolete; it is rarely adopted 
 except by some old civilians without 
 diplomas, who practise in the country 
 or the suburbs. At the period of which 
 we are writing, it corresponded with 
 that of general agent, and served as a 
 cover to that questionable calling, which 
 embraces Avithin its wide limits the 
 business of investing money, negotiating 
 marriages, liquidating old claims, and 
 clearing up doubtful successions and 
 musty credits, with the addition, -when 
 times permit, of a little dabbling in 
 usury. 
 
 We must however state, that in con- 
 sequence of the great changes of pro- 
 perty resulting from the revolution of 
 '89, an immense number of conflicting 
 interests and rights had arisen, the ad- 
 ministration of which might afford an 
 opening for a profession of that nature, 
 as there was then a reason for the exis- 
 tence of the calling, it was not regarded 
 with the suspicion and discredit under 
 which it now labours. 
 
 Chevillard therefore saw nothing dis- 
 couraginng in the social position of his 
 new acquaintance ; confidence rather 
 than mistrust was excited by the infor- 
 mation he had obtained, and he returned 
 to his home with a more tranquil mind ; 
 that home which he had been on the 
 point of never seeing again. He hastened 
 to retire to bed, and the fatigue of body 
 and mind produced by the strong emo- 
 tions he had experienced, soon procured 
 for him a sound and unexpected repose. 
 When he awoke the next morning, the 
 remembrance of all that had taken place 
 
 the preceding evening, presented itself 
 in a confused manner to his mind ; so 
 many strange events had been crowded 
 into a few short hours of his existence, 
 that he was obliged to reflect for some 
 time, before he could persuade himself 
 that he was not still under the impres- 
 sion of some frightful dream. But his 
 empty pocket-book, the letter he had 
 written to justify his suicide, and the 
 address left in his hands by the man 
 who had arrested the execution of his 
 design, did not permit him to doubt the 
 accuracy of his recollections, and im- 
 pelled by the urgency of his position, 
 he dressed quickly and went out. For 
 the world, he would not have faced 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau, before he was 
 able to produce the sum which he had 
 wrongfully appropriated. 
 
 On his arrival in the Rue des Moulins, 
 he found a house of respectable appear- 
 ance, in which lodged the individual he 
 sought. The porter pointed out the 
 floor, and a lackered escutcheon with 
 with the words, Legros, law-agent, in- 
 scribed in gold letters, indicating the 
 door of his apartments. Chevillard rang 
 the bell, and an old servant soon made 
 her appearance, demanding if he were 
 the young man her master expected. 
 The visitor answered ia the affirmative, 
 and was ushered into the parlour, and 
 requested to sit down till Legros came ; 
 he had been obliged to go out on business, 
 but would soon return. The appearance 
 of the room into which the book-keeper 
 was introduced, was singular enough. 
 Modern furniture of small value was 
 intermixed with a quantity of rare and 
 costly effects, such as pictures, bronzes, 
 sculptured ivory, jewellery and other pre- 
 cious productions, which seemed to bear 
 evidence that their owner was a pas- 
 sionate admirer of art. But upon look- 
 ing more nearly, this collection was 
 heaped together in'such strange disorder, 
 and formed so unseemly an incumbrance, 
 that it appeared to be placed there 
 merely as a temporary thing, and made 
 the apartment resemble an auction-room 
 or a curiosity-shop. For some time, 
 Chevillard examined with feelings of 
 interest all that surrounded him ; but 
 the lengthened absence of his host made 
 him begin to feel anxious ; the usual 
 time for repairing to his office would 
 soon arrive, and he would have to pre- 
 sent himself before Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau, subject to reproof for neglecting 
 hours, a fault which she viewed with 
 less indulgence than any other. Still 
 Legros did not come, and everyone
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CEIME. 
 
 27 
 
 knows how long the time appears, and 
 how impatient we get, when waiting for 
 any one with whom we have important 
 business to transact. At the end of three 
 quarters of an hour, Chevillard began 
 to feel the most serious fears as to the 
 success of his negociation. " Evidently, 
 Legros had forgotten the appointment ; 
 or he had not at his disposal the sum 
 for which he had come forward ; or else, 
 he had never seriously intended to 
 oblige him." For in such a case, what 
 will not a person suppose ? 
 
 Soon, the inward agitation to which 
 the poor young man was a prey, rose 
 to the hightest pitch ; he walked with 
 hasty steps through the apartment, 
 speaking aloud, and evincing all the 
 symptoms of feverish excitement. He 
 was once more entertaining the idea of 
 suicide, when the peremptory ring which 
 in every house announces the return of 
 the master, was at length heard, and 
 Legros made his appearance. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! so you are here, my young 
 friend," said he; "well! how are you 
 this morning ?" 
 
 "Pretty well," replied Chevillard; 
 " only I was beginning to fear that you 
 had forgotten me." 
 
 " No danger of that, I am a man of 
 my word ; but I have business to trans- 
 act with others as well as with you, 
 you understand." 
 
 So saying, Legros opened the door 
 of an adjoining room, and motioned 
 Chevillard to enter, observing : " Let 
 us go into my study." 
 
 This singular individual had beyond 
 all doubt an inveterate mania for col- 
 lecting ; for rich stuffs, clocks, Chinese 
 ware, ancient weapons, specimens of 
 natural history, musical instruments, 
 and even an Egyptian mummy in its 
 case, were scattered pell-mell in this 
 second apartment, in the same admired 
 confusion as in the parlour. Seeing 
 Chevillard surveyed all these odds and 
 ends with some astonishment, Legros 
 remarked, as he seated himself at his 
 desk to enter some notes in a register : 
 " You perceive, I have something of a 
 mania for collecting curiosities !" 
 
 "So it appears," replied the other; 
 "I could fancy myself in a museum." 
 
 " Yes, this is my chief expense ; 
 sometimes I feel angry with myself, 
 when I think how many poor wretches 
 might be relieved with the money which 
 I squander away, but the passion is too 
 strong for me, I cannot resist it." 
 
 Whilst our antiquary was talking, he 
 had finished the writing upon which he 
 
 had been engaged, and throwing him- 
 self back in his arm-chair with the air 
 of a minister giving audience : " Well 
 now, my dear fellow," said he to his 
 client, " let us speak about your affairs ; 
 you say you want a thousand crowns ?" 
 
 "Alas ! yes, "replied the book-keeper ; 
 " I must account for that sum this very 
 morning, and you have permitted me to 
 hope " 
 
 "It is here at your service," inter- 
 rupted Legros, drawing forth a pocket- 
 book. " But first be so good, my young 
 friend, as to inform me of your name 
 and station, with which I am not yet 
 acquainted." 
 
 Chevillard having declared his name 
 and the situation he held in the es- 
 tablishment of the Tricolourcd Prism, 
 the law-agent signified his entire satis- 
 faction. Then taking a huge pinch of 
 snuff from a richly carved gold snuff- 
 box, he observed : "The money you lost 
 yesterday in so imprudent a manner, 
 had been intrusted to you, as cashier; is 
 it not so?" 
 
 Chevillard, with some confusion, al- 
 lowed that this was the case. 
 
 "It is doubtless unnecessary for me 
 to remind you of the magnitude of the 
 fault you have committed :" said Legros, 
 with great dignity. 
 
 " You saw what I was going to do ; 
 I think that testifies sufficiently for my 
 repentance and remorse." 
 
 "Right!" resumed Legros; "you 
 doubtless then belong to a family of re- 
 pute?" 
 
 "Before the Revolution, my father 
 was a merchant at Auxerre. He /was 
 ruined by the calamities of the time, and 
 he and my mother both soon after died, 
 leaving me quite unprovided for. I had 
 an uncle, a notary in the same town ; I 
 lost him a short time ago, and have some 
 claims upon the property he has left ; 
 this little inheritance is now in the 
 course of being settled, and out of it I 
 intend to discharge my obligations to 
 you." 
 
 " Well ! and in the house where 
 
 you are employed, your salary is to the 
 amount of " 
 
 " Of about a thousand crows, reckon- 
 ing a small share I have in the busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Not a very brilliant position ; is 
 there any chance of its improving r" 
 
 " That is doubtful; a clerk, you know, 
 is dependent upon the pleasure of his 
 employer." - -> 
 
 " Oh ! there is no counting upon the 
 generosity of mercantile people, or upon
 
 28 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 their gratitude for faithful services ; you 
 ought to seek to establish yourself on 
 your own account, and not remain a 
 clerk all your life." 
 
 " Establish myself ! that is no 
 
 easy matter : and besides, I have no great 
 inclination for trade." 
 
 " Undoubtedly those who are engaged 
 in it make their way but slowly, and I 
 clearly saw yesterday, that you would 
 like to rise rapidly to wealth. After all, 
 we live at a time when plenty of oppor- 
 tunities are to be found, if we can but 
 avail ourselves of them. So now I have 
 been satisfied on all these points, and I 
 hope you will excuse my asking you 
 about them, but " 
 
 " No excuse is necessary, it is quite 
 natural you should inquire," interrupted 
 Chevillard. 
 
 "By the way, how do you propose 
 to arrange our little conditions of repay- 
 ment ?" 
 
 "Unfortunately, I have no security 
 or mortgage to oifer you ; I can only 
 give you my note of hand for the sum, 
 and I would request that it should not 
 fall due too soon; but naturally, we 
 shall reckon the interest." 
 
 " Humph !" said Legros, as if this 
 proposition did not exactly suit him; 
 "then you propose to sign a bill to my 
 order r" 
 
 " To your order, well, let it be so ;" 
 replied the book-keeper, who had ex- 
 pected that his creditor would be satis- 
 fied with a simple acknowledgment ; 
 but he could not possibly object to this 
 additional precaution. 
 
 Legros appeared to reflect for a mo- 
 ment, playing at the same time with a 
 pinch of snuff ; then he said to his client : 
 " You will think me a strange mortal ; 
 of course I place the fullest confidence 
 in your honour, since you spontaneously 
 offered you my assistance, but I confess 
 to you that in matters of business I like 
 to take my precautions." 
 
 " No one can object to that," returned 
 Chevillard, with a degree of restraint, 
 for he began to be alarmed at the delay. 
 
 "I think therefore, that having no 
 personal security to offer, and being 
 yourself engaged in trade, you can have 
 no objection to the formality the purely 
 commercial formality of a bill of ex- 
 change, that I shall draw upon you, and 
 that you will accept." 
 
 Chevillard had certainly not expected 
 so rigorous a proceeding. If a bill of 
 exchange is not met when presented, 
 the party, who has been imprudent 
 enough to subscibe to it, may be com- 
 
 mitted to prison in a very summary 
 style ; for this convenient reason, it is 
 in high favour with that respectable 
 body, the usurers, and the preference 
 which Legros had so openly expressed, 
 taken in connexion with the strange 
 array of moveables with which his apart- 
 ments were crammed, suggested certain 
 ideas of a money-lender covering his 
 transactions with the cloak of Philan- 
 thopy. Without manifesting any such 
 suspicion, the luckless applicant had 
 nevertheless some thoughts of the kind 
 when he replied : " A bill of exchange is 
 always a serious thing, and in the first 
 place, I must clearly understand when 
 it is to fall due, and what will be the 
 rate of interest." 
 
 " As to the latter clause, you will find 
 me very tractable : I do not claim any 
 interest." 
 
 " But that is not at all my wish," re- 
 plied the book-keeper, his anxiety in- 
 creased by this disinterested offer, for 
 money-lenders are to be mistrusted in 
 proportion as they make a display of 
 liberality and frankness. 
 
 " Then we cannot come to any 
 arrangement ; for it is my intention to 
 oblige you as a friend, and not on ano- 
 ther footing." 
 
 Chevillard was completely puzzled ; 
 this man was a mixture of exaggerated 
 delicacy and suspicious rigour, which 
 he could not reconcile. 
 
 "Indeed, sir," said he, "you make 
 me feel extremely uncomfortable ; the 
 interest on a thousand crowns is a con- 
 siderable siim, and I cannot think of 
 your giving it up to oblige me." 
 
 "To be sure, young man," replied 
 Legros, "I know your self-love must 
 suffer a little by my resolution; but 
 this will be the punishment for vour 
 folly." 
 
 The scruples of Chevillard were neces- 
 sarily overruled by this obliging and in- 
 genious speech ; but the moment after, 
 his doubts returned in full force, when 
 Legros began to speak of a bill payable 
 eight days after sight.* 
 
 "That is a very short term!" ex- 
 claimed the book-keeper. 
 
 " Or it may be a very long one," re- 
 turned the other ; " suppose I advance 
 my claim six months hence *" 
 
 " Certainly, in that point of view, and 
 if you would guarantee a delay of that 
 period " 
 
 * That is to say, payable eight days after it 
 has been legally presented to the debtor, who 
 establishes such presentation by affixing his 
 signature.
 
 THE MYSTEKY OF CEIME. 
 
 29 
 
 " I promise nothing," interrupted Le- 
 gros ; " my patience will depend upon 
 your conduct ; for, to explain to you 
 what may appear singular in my pro- 
 ceedings, know that I hare but one end 
 in view, that of keeping you in order. 
 If ever you re-enter a gambling-house, 
 I shall know it, and the very next day 
 the bill will be presented ; I give you 
 fair warning." 
 
 " And if I did not pay ?" said Chevil- 
 lard, laughing. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear fellow ! to prison, 
 without mercy you may depend upon 
 it." 
 
 " Come, I see I shall have plenty of 
 time" and the young man settled in 
 his own mind, that his creditor was a 
 sort of crabbed philanthropist, whom he 
 should be able to manage so long as he 
 kept from the sin of gambling an of- 
 fence for which Legros appeared to 
 cherish an aversion almost amounting 
 to monomania. 
 
 " At all events," resumed this singu- 
 lar personage, " I promise you that your 
 signature will not be circulated ; the bill 
 you subscribe shall remain in my hands." 
 
 Viewing matters in the worst light, 
 even if payment were to be demanded 
 immediately, Chevillard would still have 
 eight days to consider what must be 
 done, and as these thoughts passed 
 rapidly through his mind, he resolved 
 tp accept Legros' conditions. He had 
 j ust announced his intention, and they 
 were preparing to conclude the transac- 
 tion, when they were interrupted by the 
 arrival of two ladies, who entered fa- 
 miliarly, without being announced. At 
 sight of these visitors, Legros exclaimed : 
 " Ah ! my fair friends ! what can have 
 procured me the favour of your presence 
 this morning?" 
 
 " We came early to Paris, to make 
 some purchases, and as we were in your 
 neighbourhood, we have taken the 
 liberty to come to breakfast with you," 
 replied the eldest of the two ladies, a 
 short woman, somewhat advanced in 
 life, and of large proportions, but who, 
 nevertheless, retained an air of youth 
 and attractive freshness. 
 
 " Well, that was a delightful idea ! 
 and I am infinitely indebted to you. I 
 am only afraid, that, as I was not aware 
 of this pleasure, I shall not be able to 
 receive you as I could wish." 
 
 " Ah ! you know that Esther eats no 
 more than a bird," returned the lady, 
 who had before spoken ; y and as for 
 me, a cup of tea is quite sufficient." 
 
 " Permit me at least to go and give 
 
 some orders." And the law-agent im- 
 mediately withdrew, leaving Chevillard 
 in very agreeable company. 
 
 From the moment that the ladies had 
 entered the room, our friend the book- 
 keeper had been gazing with fixed at- 
 tention at the younger of the two, and 
 as we are in the secret of his predilection 
 ioT fair beauties, we need not wonder at 
 this, for never could there have been a 
 more enchanting impersonation of his 
 romantic dreams. Large blue eyes, 
 beaming with that humid splendour 
 which gives so much expression to the 
 countenance, a dazzling complexion, a 
 skin admirably fair, luxuriant tresses of 
 the brightest auburn, a graceful figure, 
 and an air in which there was an in- 
 describable mixture of voluptuousness 
 and dignity, combined to render this 
 charming creature an object worthy of 
 general admiration. He fancied too 
 that the young girl regarded him with 
 a certain degree of curiosity, and this 
 discovery increased his prepossession in 
 her favour. He was not however so 
 completely absorbed, as not to feel that 
 it was incumbent on him to endeavour 
 to relieve the awkwardness of the situa- 
 tion, by an attempt at conversation. 
 He wished to commence by something 
 sprightly and agreeable, but he was so 
 long thinking about it, that the matron 
 forestalled him by asking, if she had 
 not already had the honour of meeting 
 him at Mr. Legros' r" 
 
 Chevillard replied that he was there 
 for the first time. 
 
 "That is very singular," continued 
 the lady ; " you bear a strong resem- 
 blance to a person for whom Mr. Legros 
 was negociating a marriage. But now 
 I look more attentively, I think that 
 the person alluded to was older, and less 
 gentlemanly in his manners." 
 
 Surprised at this compliment, the 
 clerk could only bow his acknowledge- 
 ments. 
 
 "Well, sir !" continued the lady ; " as 
 you have come once to consult Mr. Le- 
 gros, I am sure it will not be the last 
 time. He is extremely clever in busi- 
 ness, and a man of such high integrity, 
 that he makes friends of all his clients?" 
 
 Chevillard had just replied, that he 
 had every reason to congratulate himself 
 upon having made the acquaintance 
 of Mr. Legros, when the latter entered, 
 exclaiming : " Well, well, fair ladies ! I 
 am more fortunate than I had thought ; 
 Margaret declares that I shall be able to 
 offer you a presentable breakfast, and it 
 will be served up in a few moments."
 
 30 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 Then, drawing his client apart, he 
 said in a low voice : "You must join us, 
 for you see we cannot possibly conclude 
 our little affair now !" 
 
 " That will detain me too long," re- 
 turned Chevillard ; " I am already late, 
 and a signature is so soon given." 
 
 " But, my good fellow, you would not 
 have me draw out a bill and pay over 
 money, before these ladies ! what would 
 they think ? And then I am not sure 
 that I have here paper with the proper 
 stamp ; I must send for some." 
 
 "Well, if that is the case, I submit," 
 said the book-keeper. 
 
 "I'd advise you to complain!" re- 
 sumed Legros ; " to be forced to break- 
 fast with one of the prettiest women in 
 Paris!" 
 
 Taking the clerk by the arm, and 
 leading him forward a few steps, he 
 next said : " Madame de Saint-Martin, 
 allow me to introduce to you Mr. Che- 
 villard, one of my clients." 
 
 " I have not the pleasure of knowing 
 this gentleman," replied the lady who 
 was thus addressed; "but just now I 
 thought I recognised him ; I took him 
 at first to be the person for whom you 
 arranged that splendid match ; you 
 know whom I mean :" 
 
 " Well, there is really some faint re- 
 semblance. But my present business 
 with Mr. Chevillard is not of that nature; 
 another time perhaps I don't say." 
 
 The servant now came to announce 
 breakfast, and as Legros led out Madame 
 de Saint-Martin, Chevillard was left to 
 escort her beautiful companion. The 
 impression she had made upon him must 
 have been very strong, for though nei- 
 ther a novice nor a schoolboy, he trem- 
 bled with emotion at the light touch of 
 her hand . If Legros' impromptu break- 
 fast had been prepared with the most 
 elaborate care, it could not have been 
 more presentable; and though Madame 
 de Saint-Martin had declared that a cup 
 of tea would be quite sufficient, and now 
 cried out against the unnecessary pro- 
 fusion, she nevertheless managed to do 
 it ample justice. The young lady, on 
 the contrary, scarcely touched that 
 which was set before her. Chevillard 
 was seated opposite to her, and, as at 
 first he thought that he had attracted 
 tier attention, he was much disappointed 
 when he observed how carefully she 
 avoided looking at him. A sad and 
 istless, almost a disdainful manner, 
 marked the bearing of this beautiful 
 girl, and the few words that she uttered 
 were formal and constrained. Madame 
 
 de Saint-Martin liberally compensated 
 for this, her natural loquacity being 
 apparently increased by the presence of 
 the stranger. Her conversation did not 
 denote any very high degree of polish or 
 intellect, but Chevillard, to whom she 
 addressed a vast number of polite and 
 obliging speeches, was not disposed to 
 be hypercritical. He might, without 
 vanity, consider that he had made a 
 favourable impression, and though it 
 was not exactly in the right quarter, 
 it encouraged him to exert all his powers 
 of pleasing, in hopes of overcoming the 
 reserve of his opposite neighbour, in 
 whom he every moment discovered some 
 new charm. But his efforts were un- 
 availing ; though he really made himself 
 very agreeable, the young lady did not 
 appear even to notice his attentions, and 
 her coldness destroyed the pleasure he 
 would otherwise have derived from this 
 unforeseen meeting. Madame de Saint- 
 Martin was much more sociable, and she 
 seemed to have taken such a violent 
 fancy for the person and conversation of 
 our friend, that when the repast was 
 over, and she prepared to depart, he 
 would not have felt surprised at receiv- 
 ing an invitation to visit this new con- 
 quest at her own house. However, her 
 favour was not carried to that extent, 
 and the interview was terminated by a 
 very gracious farewell from the lady, 
 and a rather stiff bow from her young 
 companion, who, indeed, was not much 
 more affable in her demeanour^ towards 
 Legros. 
 
 The gentlemen, when left alone, re- 
 turned to the study, and Legros at once 
 asked Chevillard what he thought of 
 Madame de Saint-Martin. 
 
 " She appears to be very amiable," 
 replied he ; " but I think her daughter 
 may be called a perfect beauty." 
 
 " That is not her daughter, but a 
 young orphan whom she has brought up." 
 
 " Indeed ! this accounts then for ,the 
 melancholy look of the young lady." 
 
 " Oh ! there are many things to be 
 said on that subject. You must have 
 seen, that Madame de Saint-Martin still 
 likes to be admired. This orphan was 
 confided to her charge when very young, 
 and so long as she was a child, she treated 
 her with the greatest kindness ; but now 
 that Esther is grown up so charming, 
 the good lady regards her as a rival, 
 and is no longer the same." 
 
 " So she is jealous of the poor girl, 
 and does not make her happy r" 
 
 "Yes; there is something of this 
 kind."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME; 
 
 31 
 
 " But why not get rid of this rival, by 
 disposing of her in marriage?" 
 
 "That is under consideration," re- 
 plied Legros ; " and one would think the 
 thing were easy enough, for the girl is a 
 good match. She has not a fortune, 
 strictly speaking ; but she has a guar- 
 dian, who takes a deep interest in her. 
 He is a man of great influence ; he has 
 just been appointed commissioner oJ 
 stores for the navy, and could place the 
 husband his ward might choose, in a 
 very good situation." 
 
 " I should think then, that this beautiful 
 young ladymusthave acrowd of adorers." 
 
 " Why, in the first place, she goes out 
 but little. Madame de Saint -Martin 
 does not see much company, and lives 
 in a very retired part, almost like the 
 country ; and then any one who wishes 
 to win the daughter, must suit the fancy 
 of her adoptive mother, who insists upon 
 having a son-in-law of her own choice, 
 as if she were the person he is to marry !" 
 
 " But the good lady did not seem very 
 inaccessible," said Chevillard, in a tone 
 approaching to fatuity. 
 
 " In truth, she appeared to be quite 
 taken with you, and I can assure you I 
 was astonished at it ; not that I mean 
 to question your merit, but so few per- 
 sons are able to please her." 
 
 " If I were sure these favorable dis- 
 positions, would last, do you know that, 
 after all you have been telling me, I 
 should feel half inclined to place myself 
 on the list of aspirants ?" 
 
 "My dear fellow!" replied Legros, 
 " you don't seem to me steady enough to 
 get married ; and besides, just now, AVC 
 have something more serious to think 
 of. Let us see about this bill ;" and he 
 drew a sheet of stamped paper from a 
 box, in which there appeared to be a 
 good store, notwithstanding the asser- 
 tion he had made before breakfast. 
 
 " You are right," said Chevillard; " I 
 am talking here, and forgetting how 
 late it is, and I shall have a fine lecture 
 when I get back." 
 
 " Let me see," resumed Legros, seat- 
 ing himself at his desk, and repeating 
 in an undertone, as he wrote them down, 
 the following words : 
 
 'Hoi, 
 
 " Eight daj 
 to our order," 
 Francs, value* 
 advised by 
 
 To MR. C 
 No. 7, I 
 
 [ember 27th, 1804. 
 J. P. F. 3,000. 
 
 t, please to pay 
 e sunfcof Three Thousand 
 which carry as 
 BEGROS, Agent." 
 
 ! des JJuex-Portes-Saint- 
 N^Sauveur, Paris. 
 
 " Now, will you accept this ?" said he 
 presenting the pen to the book-keeper. 
 
 Casting his eyes over the paper, Che- 
 villard wrote across the bill, in a per- 
 pendicular direction, accepted for the sum 
 of three thousand francs, and affixed his 
 signature. Legros then drew from hi: 
 pocket-book bank-notes to the amoun! 
 named, and gave them to his client, who 
 immediately asked permission to retire. 
 
 " Certainly, my dear fellow, never 
 neglect business ; but I shall hope to 
 see you soon, and beware of a relapse !" 
 
 " Believe me, sir, I shall never forgel 
 the service you have rendered me," said 
 Chevillard ; and, cordially shaking the 
 hand of his new friend, he left the room. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT all seasons of the year, Chevillard 
 was at his books before nine o'clock, 
 and this morning, noon struck as he 
 entered the Tricoloured Prism. He 
 expected to be reproached for this un- 
 authorised delay, and had therefore 
 already determined upon the course to 
 be pursued: he resolved to offer no 
 excuses, and if called upon for an ex- 
 planation, to reply in the most firm and 
 dignified manner. Full of these mag- 
 nanimous sentiments, he entered the 
 presence of Mademoiselle Lebeau, and 
 without further preface, presented the 
 bank-notes, saying as he did so : " Made- 
 moiselle, here is the money you desired 
 me to receive." 
 
 " So you did not go till this morning ? " 
 observed Mademoiselle Lebeau, some- 
 what drily, and as if she connected this 
 question with the slight altercation of 
 the day before. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, the money was 
 paid to me yesterday evening." 
 
 "Indeed ! how is it then that you are 
 so late in the counting-house ? " asked 
 the fair mercer. 
 
 ' Mademoiselle, I had some business 
 which obliged me to go out this morn- 
 
 1 ; I think that such a circumstance 
 might happen to anybody." 
 
 " Certainly ; but you might have 
 taken the trouble to let me know, and 
 ;o leave me the key of the cash-box. 
 There was a payment to be made just 
 now, and if I had not happened to have 
 sufficient funds in my, private purse, I 
 should have been obliged to ask for 
 credit." 
 
 ' That would doubtless have been 
 irery unpleasant : but as you were able 
 ;o meet the demand, no great harm is 
 done."
 
 32 
 
 TIIE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 " It was quite a chance that I was 
 able to do so," returned Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, with some warmth; " and the 
 credit of a house should never be left to 
 chance." 
 
 " The credit of a house is not compro- 
 mised by such a trifle," retorted Chevil- 
 lard, in a light and indifferent manner. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; for less than a quarter of 
 an hour's delay is sufficient to cast a 
 doubt upon the solvability of a trader ; 
 this is a fundamental principle in busi- 
 ness, and I am. surprised that I need to 
 remind you of it." 
 
 " Oh ! Mademoiselle, I have many 
 other things to learn from you," an- 
 swered Chevillard. alluding to the abso- 
 lute control that his employer exercised 
 in the establishment. " A clerk cannot 
 be expected ' to know more than the 
 rough work ; it is the heads alone who 
 are versed in the niceties of trade." 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau had often passed 
 over ironical expressions of this nature, 
 without appearing to notice them ; but 
 this fresh ebullition was so very ill- | 
 timed, that she lost all patience, and 
 said with much dignity : " Mr. Che- 
 I villard, favour me Avith your attention 
 i for a moment ; you have for some time 
 ' displayed much uncalled-for petulance ; 
 | to-day, when \o\\ are so evidently in the 
 i wrong, I think you might have refrained 
 j from this. You take everything amiss, 
 and are displeased and discontented 
 with all around you ; when people are 
 living in the same house, this is ex- 
 ceedingly unpleasant ; if you have any 
 complaints to make, state them, but let 
 us have done with this enigmatical and 
 capricious displeasure." 
 
 Chevillard forgot the moderation he 
 had intended to maintain, and replied 
 hastily : " Mademoiselle, if my character 
 and services no longer suit you, you 
 have only to signify it, and I will not 
 stay in your house against your wishes. 
 Nothing can be more simple." 
 
 Notwithstanding this rude speech, 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau said with much 
 
 calmness : " Mr. Chevillard, this way of 
 
 : looking at the subject is hardly in good 
 
 i taste." 
 
 "It is my undoubted opinion," con- 
 tinued the book-keeper, growing still 
 warmer, instead of appreciating the for- 
 bearance and kindness of her reply, 
 "that when people are tired of living 
 together, they ought to part ; they need 
 not be the worse friends for that." 
 
 " Let us say no more," replied the 
 young lady; "you are angry, and you 
 cannot see at this moment how unjust 
 
 and unreasonable you are. Here is an 
 account- current that I want presently ; 
 will you be kind enough to attend to it 
 at once r" 
 
 The separation which Chevillard had 
 proposed was too sudden and unpreme- 
 ditated a design for him to insist further. 
 He took the papers, and, though he did 
 not testify the slightest compunction for 
 his inconsiderate expressions, he seated 
 himself at his desk, and gave his at- 
 tention to the required task. Arithmetic 
 and book-keeping have usually a very 
 sedative effect upon the imagination, but 
 on this occasion Chevillard could not 
 recover his equanimity, and, during the 
 whole day, he was disturbed by con- 
 flicting ideas and feelings. He had 
 frequently before, in calmer moments, 
 asked himself if he could always quietly 
 submit to this obscure and dependent 
 existence, and on the preceding evening, 
 he had for a full hour lived in a golden 
 vision, which had vividly excited his 
 desire for a more brilliant and influential 
 position. This dream had been dis- 
 pelled by a bitter reality ; but his wishes 
 for a change of fortune had been re- 
 vived in full force, by his meeting with 
 the beautiful orphan in Legro's study. 
 Eor might not the happier destiny, 
 which, by the chances of play, had for a 
 moment been within his grasp, might it 
 not now be fully realized by the pos- 
 session of this lovely girl, who brought 
 as her portion a place and powerful pro- 
 tection in a word, every opportunity 
 for the rapid advancement of an active 
 and clever man ? 
 
 Our dreamer had probably as yet no 
 very decided plan as to this matrimonial 
 speculation and the manner in which 
 Legros had received the vague hint he 
 threw out on the subject, was not calcu- 
 lated to encourage him to proceed ; but 
 though his projects were thus clout. 1 y 
 and undefined, he felt as if a distant 
 horizon had risen upon his life. It is 
 therefore not surprising if, in the even- 
 ing, when Mademoiselle Lebeau, and 
 all the members of her household met at 
 dinner, Chevillard should appear singu- 
 larly preoccupied and silent. 
 
 Always disposed to judge of others 
 by her own amiable disposition, Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau thought this constrained 
 manner proceeded from the regret he 
 felt for his unseemly warmth in the 
 morning. She harboured no resent- 
 ment, and, anxious to efface all traces of 
 past differences, she showed herself as 
 kind and affable to the supposed peni- 
 tent, as if he had given her no cause for
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 33 
 
 complaint. But ambitious desires harden 
 the heart. The proud book-keeper 
 imagined, that the friendly advances of 
 the kind-hearted girl -were inspired by 
 her fear of losing his services, and he 
 was not in the least touched by them : 
 on the contrary, he thought hisxlignity 
 required him to receive them Avith 
 marked coldness and asperity, and he 
 put so little restraint upon himself, that 
 his sullen humours at length exhausted 
 the patience of the fair mercer. Woman's 
 pride triumphed, and she ceased to 
 notice this sulky being, though her in- 
 nate generosity prevented her from treat- 
 
 ing him with the sharpness he deserved. 
 Full of engrossing thoughts, and discon- 
 tented with himself, for his conscience 
 reproached him with his behaviour to a 
 person who might have had a serious 
 reckoning to demand, Chevillard, when 
 his evening duties were concluded, felt 
 no inclination to retire to rest ; and, 
 hoping that the air would calm the 
 tumult of his mind, he went out to 
 walk. 
 
 He had besides an object in view. 
 The night before, he had left his watch 
 in a place, where, for many reasons, he 
 was un willing it should remain ; he
 
 34 
 
 THE -WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 therefore directed his steps towards the 
 dangerous house which had been so 
 nearly his ruin, redeemed the property 
 he had pledged, and as he was descend- 
 ing the staircase, which likewise led to 
 the gambling-table, he met his friend 
 Legros. There was nothing in the 
 meeting to cause him much surprise, for 
 that singular individual had himself 
 declared that his eccentric and ardent 
 philanthropy induced him to pay fre- 
 quent visits to such haunts ; but Chevil- 
 lard had not the same excuse, and his 
 unlooked-for appearance on the stair- 
 case of No. 113, seemed to indicate a 
 decided relapse. 
 
 "How, sir ! " said Legros, with seve- 
 rity, " you here, this evening, after your 
 solemn protestations " 
 
 " You are mistaken, my kind bene- 
 factor ; I came to obliterate the last 
 traces of my indiscretion. You know 
 where I obtained the supplies for my 
 last campaign ; I have just been to 
 redeem my watch, upon which I had 
 raised five louis, and you may see that 
 the ticket is still attached to it." 
 
 " Oh ! that is all right !" returned the 
 monitor ; " otherwise, I should have 
 been down upon you to-morrow with 
 the bill. Well, I am delighted to see 
 you, and if you are not in a hurry to 
 return home, we will take a turn 
 through the galleries together." 
 
 Nothing could have been more accept- 
 able to Chevillard than this proposal. 
 He wished to have some conversation 
 with Legros, concerning Madame de 
 Saint-Martin and her adopted daughter, 
 and it suited admirably with his plans, 
 that this should appear to be brought 
 about by chance, and thus enable him 
 to dispense with the significant step of 
 calling upon his friend for the express 
 purpose of making enquiries. 
 
 " Well ! " said Legros, commencing 
 the conversation in the manner the 
 book-keeper could have most wished, 
 " how did things go off this morning ?" 
 
 " Very badly, indeed ! We have been 
 on very uncomfortable terms all day." 
 
 " How ! did she suspect anything ?" 
 
 " No ; but your breakfast delayed me 
 terribly, and as she is a very precise 
 person", and loves to domineer, she re- 
 proached me in a manner to which I was 
 not inclined to submit." 
 
 " So you, like a hot-headed young 
 man, lost your temper ?" 
 
 " Not exactly ; but I intimated to her, 
 in civil terms, that I might possibly give 
 up my situation." 
 
 " I do not absolutely blame you ; my 
 
 opinion is, that no one should allow 
 himself to be trampled on ; but pride is 
 a fine thing when we are certain of 
 another place." 
 
 " Ah ! that is the thing," said Chevil- 
 lard, with a sigh ; " that is not to be 
 found every day." 
 
 "Do you know," observed Legros, 
 negligently, " I have been thinking 
 since I saw you this morning and, as I 
 said before, I am glad we have met, 
 for I can mention it to you " 
 
 " What is it then?" asked Chevillard, 
 repressing as much as he could his im- 
 patient curiosity. 
 
 " It is really strange," continued the 
 other, "that though you are almost a 
 stranger to me, I feel so lively an in- 
 terest in your welfare ; but I don't know 
 how it is, I have taken a fancy to you, 
 and as I am aware you are not in a very 
 suitable position, I shall have much, 
 pleasure in assisting you to improve 
 your prospects in life." 
 
 " You are really too good !" returned 
 Chevillard, Avarmly pressing the hand 
 of this devoted friend. 
 
 "I have an idea, to be sure; but I 
 am afraid my project will meet with 
 many difficulties in the execution !" 
 
 " But once more, what is it ?" said the 
 young man, with increasing impatience. 
 
 " Have you ever thought of getting 
 married?" asked Legros, looking as if 
 the subject had never before been men- 
 tioned. 
 
 Immediately following up the hint, 
 the clerk replied : " Never, before this 
 morning " 
 
 "And since this morning?" said the 
 other, archly. 
 
 "Why, really," returned Chevillard, 
 "I should not speak the truth, if I did 
 not say I have had a vague idea of such 
 a thing." 
 
 " Come now, do not let us play at 
 mysteries ; confess, that Esther's pretty 
 face has made some impressidu upon 
 you." 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, there are not 
 many whose beauty can be compared to 
 hers." 
 
 " And then, my young friend, she is 
 as good as she is beautiful; and consider- 
 ing the positive advantages with which 
 the connexion will be attended, believe 
 me, I think you could not do better." 
 
 "But when I had an inspiration of the 
 kind, this morning, you appeared to dis- 
 courage such an idea." 
 
 " Yes, at the first moment ; but when 
 I came to reflect, it did not seem to me 
 so impracticable. You have certainly
 
 THE MYSTEEY OF CRIME. 
 
 3.3 
 
 gained the favour of Madame de Saint- 
 Martin. I, on the other hand, possess 
 some influence with the guardian, and 
 to speak frankly, I foresee no serious 
 obstacle but on your part." 
 
 "How on my part?" exclaimed Che- 
 villard; "when I say a thing, I mean 
 it." 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; but you know that 
 even the sun has spots, and if Esther 
 were like those fine apples at whose core 
 there is a worm. in short, if you were a 
 man who cared for prejudices " 
 
 "Prejudices!" said Chevillard, rather 
 alarmed at this speech ; "I must know 
 what you understand by that expres- 
 sion." 
 
 " I mean the greater or less degree of 
 fastidiousness, with which you might 
 view a certain informality of birth ; in 
 short, to come to the point, would you 
 marry an illegitimate child? That is 
 the question." 
 
 " This little informality, as you call it, 
 is in itself nothing very terrible, and then 
 much depends upon circumstances." 
 
 "Oh! there is nothing to objectto there. 
 Esther is well born ; she is the daughter 
 of the ci-devant Marquis de Brevannes, 
 who acknowledged her." 
 
 "Then the obstacle might rather be 
 on her side ; for, after all, I am nothing 
 but a poor clerk." 
 
 " No, there will be no difficulties in 
 that quarter. Her father emigrated, 
 and died abroad, leaving her totally un- 
 provided for, his property having been 
 confiscated and sold by the nation. The 
 Marquis entrusted Esther to the care of 
 Madame de Saint-Martin, and this lady 
 has brought her up in habits of strict 
 obedience. Her will is law to her 
 adopted daughter." 
 
 " But perhaps the guardian, of whom 
 you spoke, wiU not think me a suitable 
 match." 
 
 " In the first place," replied Legros, 
 "let me- be clearly understood. This 
 guardian is not a legal guardian ; he was 
 formerly steward to the Marquis, and 
 has extended to the daughter some of 
 the attachment he felt for the father. 
 He wishes to see this young girl happily 
 married, for he has known her from her 
 infancy, and received the parting in- 
 junctions of his former master to watch 
 over and protect her. He has made a 
 large fortune in commercial speculations, 
 but, having a family, he does not con- 
 sider himself justified in giving a portion 
 to his ward, and intends, as I have 
 already told you, to dispose of a lucra- 
 tive and honourable situation in behalf 
 
 of the husband she may choose ; but he 
 claims no right to influence her deter- 
 mination." 
 
 "The situation would probably be 
 connected with the stores in his depart- 
 ment ?" said Chevillard. 
 
 "Yes; and I assure you, that even 
 supposing the salary to be a matter of 
 six thousand francs only, the protege of 
 so prosperous and influential a man must 
 be an awkward fellow, if he did not get 
 on famously in a short time." 
 
 " Well, my dear sir," said Chevillard, 
 "see if you can arrange all this ; I put 
 myself entirely in your hands." 
 
 " The line to be followed is plain 
 enough," resumed Legros ; " to-morrow 
 morning, I will go to Madame de Saint- 
 Martin, and propose you as a husband 
 for Esther. But reflect well upon it 
 first ; in plain terms, it is a bastard you 
 are to marry." 
 
 " Come, come ; in this enlightened 
 age, and with our republican ideas, is a 
 question of birth deserving of serious 
 consideration ? My intended is charm- 
 ing, and, as you tell me, endowed with 
 numerous good qualities " 
 
 " Oh ! you may be quite easy on that 
 score. As to you, my dear fellow, I 
 hope you will fully justify the good 
 character I shall give you ; for do you 
 know, from the manner in which our 
 acquaintance commenced, I am taking a 
 terrible responsibility upon myself." 
 
 " I was led away by the persuasions 
 of a friend, sind I swear to you, that I 
 then played for the first and last time." 
 
 "I am willing to believe you," re- 
 turned the law-agent. " Well, to-morrow 
 in the afternoon, you shall hear from me 
 one way or the other. Where shall I 
 address my letter ?" 
 
 " I shall be in the counting-house all 
 day." 
 
 "To-morrow then," said Legros; 
 " but now don't have any misgivings, 
 and draw back, after I have committed 
 myself with my friends." 
 
 "Be easy," answered Chevillard ; "I 
 am not a child." 
 
 Everything being now settled, they 
 parted; and from that moment the as- 
 piring clerk gave himself up to the hope of 
 a new existence, and resolved that, even 
 if his marriage did not take place, he 
 would not remain in the obscurity in 
 which he had vegetated too long already ; 
 so that the establishment of the Tri- 
 coloured Prism was at all events menaced 
 with no less a calamity than the loss of 
 its cashier.
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN Chevillard's present disposition of 
 mind, his intercourse with Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau was anything but cordial. That 
 young lady had made, the evening be- 
 fore, as many advances towards a recon- 
 ciliation as could be reasonably expected 
 from her, and these having had no effect 
 upon her angry clerk, she now observed 
 the greatest coolness and reserve in her 
 demeanour towards him. On the other 
 hand, the book-keeper, who had made 
 up his mind to leave, was glad to keep 
 up this state of misunderstanding, as it 
 would facilitate the execution of his 
 design. 
 
 Nothing therefore had taken place to 
 shake his conviction of the propriety and 
 wisdom of his matrimonial project, when 
 on the following afternoon, he received 
 a letter written in a hand which he im- 
 mediately recognised. He opened it 
 with anxious feelings, for it seemed to 
 him as if those few lines contained the 
 solution of his destiny. There was no 
 signaWfre, and the communication ran as 
 follows : 
 
 " The affair takes a favourable turn. 
 Your pretensions were well received, and 
 I am authorized to present you to-day, 
 on the footing you could wish. Wait 
 for me this evening, about seven o'clock, 
 at the Palais du Tribunal, near the 
 Montansier theatre ; we will start to- 
 gether for the place in question. Be 
 punctual, and believe me, 
 
 "Yours truly." 
 
 This rapid result augured well for the 
 definitive arrangements ; and Chevillard 
 felt so happy, that he could not control 
 the outward demonstrations of his joy. 
 At the dinner table, he was full of ani- 
 mation, but as he took care to address 
 none of his conversation to Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, and indeed seemed scarcely to 
 notice her presence, this change of 
 humour was peculiarly offensive. She 
 could not but suppose that it Avas as- 
 sumed purposely to brave her, and at 
 length she gave Chevillard to under- 
 stand, that she thought his proceedings 
 were in exceedingly bad taste. The 
 book-keeper made an angry reply, and 
 thus the breach between them was still 
 further widened. He soon after an- 
 nounced, in a very off-hand way, that 
 lie had some business that evening, 
 which would oblige him to absent him- 
 self, and added : "If you think you shall 
 want the key of the cash-box, I will 
 leave it." 
 
 Provoked by this irony, Mademoiselle 
 
 ,Lebeau replied : " You had better do so, 
 if yourffairs, which appear to me to 
 increase very fast, are to detain you till 
 noon to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh !" returned Chevillard, " I don't 
 suppose they will occupy quite so much 
 time ; but, at all events, there is the 
 key !" 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau took it without 
 making any reply, but this slight alter- 
 cation must have had a strange effect 
 upon her ; for, soon after, forgetting the 
 admirable good-temper which was her 
 characteristic quality, she scolded one 
 of the shopwomen for a trivial fault so 
 harshly, that the poor girl burst into 
 tears. Chevillard was at the time in 
 his room, dressing with the most scru- 
 pulous care, for that eventful visit. 
 
 Legros was punctual to the appoint- 
 ment, and, getting into a coach with his 
 protegd, said to the driver: "Alice des 
 Veuves." 
 
 " Does Madame de Saint-Martin live 
 there ?" asked Chevillard, surprised. 
 
 "Yes; I told you she lived in the 
 country, or nearly so." 
 
 " What a very strange place to choose !" 
 
 " Why r It is a place like any other, 
 only rather remote from the crowd." 
 
 " A place like any other, do you call 
 it ! Why, it is said to be a regular den 
 of cut-throats." 
 
 "Surely you are not afraid!" said 
 Legros, laughing. 
 
 " No, but I think it odd for women to 
 live there alone." 
 
 " My dear fellow, we must never trust 
 to a name, be it good or bad ; besides, 
 Madame de Saint-Martin retired to this 
 unfrequented spot, during the Reign of 
 Terror, because in the neighbourhood 
 where she lived, she was subjected to 
 much annoyance on account of her 
 royalist opinions." 
 
 "That explains the matter," said 
 Chevillard. 
 
 "I persuaded her to buy this pro- 
 perty ; it had belonged to an emigrant, 
 forming what, before the Revolution, 
 was called La Petite Maison. Madame 
 de Saint-Martin made a capital hit, for 
 the house, with its pretty garden, is a 
 little Paradise, and she got it for a mere 
 trifle." 
 
 Chatting in this way, our travellers 
 arrived at their destination. As they 
 alighted, they observed a brilliant 
 equipage standing before the door of the 
 house, and Legros said to the man who 
 sat upon the box : " Ah ! Anthony, is it 
 you ? Then your master is here ? ' 
 
 " Yes, sir,' said the coachman ; " my
 
 THE MYSTEKY OF CRIME. 
 
 37 
 
 master dined here, and he told me to 
 return at eight o'clock, to take him to 
 the opera." 
 
 " This is fortunate," observed Legros 
 to Chevillard ; " we shall kill two birds 
 with one stone : that is the carriage of 
 Esther's guardian, and as, during dinner, 
 Madame de Saint-Martin will probably 
 have informed him of our plans, this 
 meeting may considerably abridge the 
 negotiation." 
 
 Whilst this short dialogue was taking 
 place, a country-looking girl had opened 
 the door, and, after traversing a small 
 court and ascending a flight of steps, 
 Chevillard was introduced into an ele- 
 gant vestibule, adorned with statues and 
 painted stucco. From hence a staircase 
 led to the upper rooms, for the house 
 was a low budding of one story. Legros 
 led the way, and opening a door on the 
 ground floor, which was richly inlaid 
 with foreign woods, they entered a 
 saloon, built in the form of a rotunda, 
 and with two windows looking upon 
 a garden. This apartment was fitted 
 up in the luxurious and coquettish style 
 of the century that had just closed ; but 
 the furniture must have seen long ser- 
 vice, for the hangings and carpet, of a 
 most delicate hue, and the gilding of the 
 mirrors,' seats, and cornices, retained 
 but few vestiges of their former splen- 
 dour. Chevillard saw at the first glance 
 that his destined bride was absent, 
 which he accounted for as dictated by 
 propriety, considering the preliminaries 
 which were to be discussed on this 
 eventful occasion. By the side of the 
 fire, sat Madame de Saint-Martin : she 
 rose upon the entrance of her guest, 
 and received him very graciously ; 
 whilst, standing with his back towards 
 the chimney, was a man about fifty 
 years of age, who acknowledged by 
 a slight inclination of the head the 
 respectful bow addressed to him by 
 the book-keeper. As soon as they were 
 seated, the matron commenced the con- 
 versation with a phrase which led 
 directly to the object of the meeting ; 
 but Legros, whose ideas of propriety 
 were rather more enlarged, felt that 
 some further preamble was necessary, 
 though it were only for the sake of ap- 
 pearances. Taking the first subjectthat 
 presented itself, he began to relate Che- 
 villard's astonishment at hearing that, 
 Madame de Saint-Martin lived in the 
 terrible Alice des Veuves, about which 
 so many startling tales were daily cir- 
 culated in Paris. Afraid of appearing 
 ridiculous, Chevillard hastened to ex- 
 
 plain, as he had already done to Legros, 
 that his observations referred to the 
 danger to which ladies might be ex- 
 posed who resided alone in so retired a 
 spot. 
 
 On her part, Madame de Saint-Mar- 
 tin repeated the explanation that Le- 
 gros had given. " And besides," added 
 she, " we scarcely ever go out in the 
 evening ; occasionally we may go to the 
 play, but then, this gentleman" (and 
 she looked at the commissary) " is 
 kind enough to accompany us, and to 
 bring us home in his carriage. As for 
 the security of the house itself, we 
 have strong shutters and fastenings; 
 and, during the many years we have 
 lived here, we have never heard of any- 
 thing to justify the bad reputation of 
 the place." 
 
 " It were to be regretted, madame," 
 said the commissary, taking this oppor- 
 tunity to give a profitable turn to the 
 conversation, " that the gentleman 
 should be prejudiced against the Allee 
 des Veuves, for, from the communica- 
 tion with which you have favoured me 
 concerning his wishes and intentions, it 
 appears to me that he is destined to 
 visit it sometimes." 
 
 This remark was an allusion to the 
 projected marriage, but there lurked in 
 it an irony far from agreeable to Chevil- 
 lard, and indeed, to say the truth, the 
 man pleased him as little as his words. 
 He did not like the way in which this 
 person measured and scrutinised his ap- 
 pearance ; for though such curiosity was 
 natural under the circumstances, it 
 might have been exercised in a more 
 discreet and reserved manner. He, in 
 his turn, had glanced furtively at this 
 rude inquisitor, in whose presence he 
 experienced an unaccountable sensation 
 of uneasiness. A bald forehead, a com- 
 plexion of unhealthy paleness, thick, 
 bushy brows, and eyes which gleamed 
 darkly in their deep orbits, formed a 
 physiognomy which was by no means 
 prepossessing. 
 
 He would have found it difficult to 
 repress a slight degree of sharpness in 
 his answer to the expressions which ap- 
 peared to cast an imputation on his 
 courage, but Legros hastened to inter- 
 pose, by saying to Madame de Saint- 
 Martin : "I see, fair lady, that you 
 have spoken to our respected friend of 
 the ambition of Mr. Chevillard ; an 
 ambition which you have authorized me 
 to encourage." 
 
 " Yes, my dear Legros," replied the 
 lady, " I am so fully persuaded of your
 
 38 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OK, 
 
 prudence and sincere friendship, that 
 the proposals this gentleman has made, 
 through you, could not be otherwise 
 than acceptable to me ; I wished to tell 
 him so myself, and Esther's guardian 
 having called in the meantime, I com- 
 municated the circumstance, for he cer- 
 tainly has a right to be consulted on so 
 important an occasion." 
 
 " Well ! Mr. Guardian, what is your 
 opinion r" asked Legros, in a tone 
 which indicated that he was on very 
 familiar terms with that gentleman. 
 
 " Why, I say as Madame does, that 
 from your hand I would unhesitatingly 
 accept a husband for Esther ; and, be- 
 sides, this gentleman appears to be, in 
 every respect, deserving of the high 
 opinion you have expressed in regard to 
 him." 
 
 This compliment was so wholly un- 
 expected, that Chevillard was sensibly 
 touched by it ; and, to show his grati- 
 tude, he commenced a phrase of most 
 intricate construction, which he with 
 difficulty brought to a close. 
 
 " But," continued the commissary, 
 " I ha veto speak with this gentleman of 
 some I will not say conditions, con- 
 nected with the marriage, for they are 
 dictated by circumstances rather than 
 by my wishes but of some unfortunate 
 obligations." 
 
 " Before we proceed any further," 
 said Madame de Saint-Martin, " permit 
 me to ask Mr. Chevillard, if he is fully 
 aware of the family circumstances of 
 our dear child r" 
 
 This time the book-keeper was more 
 happily inspired, for he replied : " Yes, 
 madam ; it is sufficient for me to know 
 that Mademoiselle Esther is a charming 
 person, educated by a virtuous lady, 
 who has acted towards her as a mother." 
 
 Every one, and Madame de Saint- 
 Martin in particular, appeared touched 
 by the delicacy with which the young 
 man had avoided all unpleasant expla- 
 nations ; and the guardian hastened to 
 resume : " In the first place, sir, we 
 shall be obliged to conclude this mar- 
 riage with some degree of haste and 
 precipitation, and this will perhaps not 
 exactly suit you." 
 
 " That is not a very hard condition," 
 returned Chevillard. 
 
 " Pardon me ; it is true, that I am 
 not of an age to have any great pre- 
 dilection for love-matches ; but still, it 
 is my opinion, that when two persons 
 have had time to study, and know each 
 other, they are more likely to be happy 
 in their union." 
 
 " Certainly," said Chevillard, " that 
 is always the best." 
 
 " Yes ! but in this case circumstances 
 are stronger than our will. You have 
 been told, sir, that it was my intention 
 to dispose of some employment in 
 favour of Esther's husband. Now, I 
 have just undertaken the supply of pro- 
 visions for the navy, and, as I am form- 
 ing the establishments necessary for 
 that service, I should never have a 
 better opportunity of procuring you a 
 good place." 
 
 " I perfectly understand," replied 
 Chevillard. 
 
 " I am on the point of entering upon 
 an undertaking, the importance of 
 which you will comprehend, when I 
 tell you that it is expected to bring a 
 profit of five or six millions. I foresee 
 that my time will be much taken up in 
 various ways, and I should wish first to 
 see this child happily established, for, 
 from my former connexion with her 
 father, I feel as much interest in her as 
 if she were allied to me by the ties of 
 blood." 
 
 " Sir, your reasons are undeniably 
 just." 
 
 " Now," continued the commissary, 
 " I come to what may be called the 
 bitter part of my requisitions. The 
 place which I destine for you, sir, is 
 that of superintendent in the town of 
 Rochefort ; the emolument is about two 
 thousand crowns, with the expectation 
 of a speedy preferment, so that Esther 
 may be said to bring an income of six 
 thousand francs to her husband." 
 
 " Well, sir," said Chevillard, " I see 
 nothing very bitter as yet." 
 
 " No ; but listen : as my superin- 
 tendent will have to attend to numerous 
 details and orders, he must, especially 
 at first, be continually moving about, 
 and have every moment of his time 
 occupied. Now, his wife could not ac- 
 company him in this wandering life, 
 and I cannot have our interests neg- 
 lected whilst he is making love ; so I 
 must 'stipulate, that, during the first six 
 months at least, Esther is to be left 
 under the safe care of Madame de Saint- 
 Martin, and that he is to go, like a poor 
 hermit, to the residence assigned him." 
 
 " I must confess this is a harsh mea- 
 sure," said Legros; " and when I was a 
 fiery young man, I don't think I should 
 have put up with it." 
 
 " But, sir," observed Chevillard, " is 
 my widowerhood to cease at the end of 
 the six months?" 
 
 " Oh ! undoubtedly ; either you will
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 39 
 
 be permanently settled, and your wife 
 will be able to join you, or, as is infi- 
 nitely more probable, I shall recall you 
 to Paris." 
 
 " But is this the only pill, at least ?" 
 said Legros, facetiously. 
 
 " Not quite all," returned the com- 
 missary. " If the thing had been pos- 
 sible, I should have wished Mr. Che- 
 villard to be at his post within a week 
 from this time." 
 
 " Well !" said the law-agent. 
 
 " Well ! if we set about necessary 
 preliminaries.without a moment's delay, 
 nearly a fortnight must elapse from the 
 publication of the banns, before the 
 marriage can be celebrated." 
 
 " From which you conclude " 
 
 " From which I conclude, that, if I 
 extend the honeymoon to three days, I 
 shall act very generously, and shall put 
 myself to great inconvenience besides." 
 
 " Go to the devil, you and your 
 place !" cried Legros, falling into a fit 
 of comic anger ; " never was a poor 
 husband so tantalised !" 
 
 " Come, come, my dear sir," said 
 Madame de Saint-Martin; " don't be 
 more refractory than Mr. Chevillard, 
 for I think he sees the force of these 
 reasons, and will submit." 
 
 " Certainly," replied the poor book- 
 keeper; " I am. not so foolish as to 
 think that a position in life is to be 
 attained without some sacrifices." 
 
 " Then you formally accept all these 
 conditions ?" asked Esther's guardian. 
 
 " Say, that he suffers them," cried 
 the law-agent. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Chevillard ; "let 
 everything be settled as you wish." 
 
 " Seriously, you have made up your 
 mind:" interposed Legros. 
 
 " I have indeed ; and it would be 
 ungrateful in me to make any ob- 
 jections." 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow," said Le- 
 gros, getting up, and shaking him by 
 the hand, " you are a more sensible 
 man than I took you for, and I do not 
 repent of my good opinion. Now, I 
 must tell you, that you are in the hands 
 of a man who knows how to requite 
 good services ; and upon my soul, if 
 he does not give a lift to such a young- 
 ster as you, I tell him beforehand, that 
 he and I shall quarrel." 
 
 " Why, sir," 'said the commissary, 
 addressing Chevillard, " ten years ago, 
 I commenced my career with certainly 
 less assistance than I offer you to-day, 
 and now I am reputed to be worth 
 more than a million." 
 
 " Yes, I wish I had the odd sum!" 
 observed Legros, as if thinking aloud. 
 
 " And Esther ?" said Madame de 
 Saint-Martin ; " she must be heard in 
 the business." 
 
 " Allow me," replied her guardian ; 
 " this is the plan I have arranged. To 
 summon the poor girl to a sort of offi- 
 cial appearance, in order to give her 
 consent, seems to me rather abrupt. 
 Without communicating my intentions, 
 I told her to go and dress for the opera, 
 and I hope Mr. Chevillard will join our 
 party ; when they have thus spent an 
 evening in each other's company, Esther 
 will be better prepared to receive his 
 visit to-morrow, in the presence of her 
 mother only. In this way, her intended 
 husband will not appear to have dropped 
 from the clouds." 
 
 " Not a badly devised plot !" said 
 Legros, gaily. 
 
 " Excellent! if Mr. Chevillard is at 
 liberty," added Madame de Saint- 
 Martin. 
 
 " I had devoted the whole evening to 
 you," replied the young man. 
 
 The commissary rung the bell, and 
 said to the servant who answered his 
 summons : " Let Esther know that we 
 are ready." 
 
 In a few moments, the young lady 
 entered, and if she had appeared charm- 
 ing to Chevillard, in her simple morning 
 dress, she made a still stronger impres- 
 sion when he saw her attired in an 
 elegant evening costume, which re- 
 vealed her beauty to an extent author- 
 iezd by the very uncovered style then in 
 fashion. 
 
 The Helen of antiquity found old 
 men not insensible to her charms, and 
 Esther, thus adorned, inspired even 
 Legros with a feeling of warm admira- 
 tion, for, approaching Chevillard, he 
 whispered : " Egad, my dear fellow ! 
 what a lovely creature ! I have given 
 you a treasure !" 
 
 The eyes of the commissary flashed 
 fire from under his dark brows, as he 
 contemplated her with a paternal pride. 
 
 " Well, shall we go r" said Madame 
 de Saint-Martin, tired of this general 
 ecstacy. 
 
 " Offer your arm to Madame de Saint- 
 Martin," said Legros to Chevillard. 
 
 He did so, and the guardian conducted 
 his ward. As they were getting into 
 the carriage, perceiving that Legros was 
 preparing to depart, the commissary 
 exclaimed: " Do you not come withus?" 
 
 " No, I have an engagement," replied 
 the other, and he wished the two ladies
 
 40 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OK, 
 
 good evening ; then, pushing Chevil- 
 lard upon the step, he whispered : " I 
 wish you success ; come and see me as 
 soon as you can, we have a thousand 
 things to arrange." 
 
 The door was closed, and the carnage 
 rolled rapidly away. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE incidents which, during the last 
 few days, had followed each other in 
 quick succession in the life of Chevil- 
 lard, were so rapid and striking, that it 
 would have been difficult for him to 
 stop in the descent, down which he had 
 been hastening since the fatal dinner of 
 Chabouillant. Everything was calcu- 
 lated to turn his head. A sumptuous 
 equipage set him down at the entrance 
 of the theatre ; the door of a handsome 
 box opened to receive him, and he seated 
 himself on its aristocratic cushions, 
 instead of mingling with the crowd on 
 some obscure bench in the pit, as had 
 been heretofore his custom ; the beauty 
 of his intended attracted all eyes ; and 
 when, in addition to these things, we 
 consider that, in her company, he ex- 
 perienced for several hours the magnetic 
 influence of music, dancing, and splendid 
 scenery, can we wonder that more was 
 not wanted to disturb the reason of so 
 light and susceptible a character, and to 
 rob him of his free will ? 
 
 As soon as the ladies were seated in 
 the box, Esther's guardian left them 
 (doubtless to give Chevillard an oppor- 
 tunity to pay his court, unrestrained by 
 his presence), and directed his steps 
 towards the saloon, at that time the 
 place where men engaged in politics or 
 finance congregated by mutual and 
 tacit agreement. Without allowing the 
 change in her manner to be too marked, 
 the young girl, who was the object of 
 Chevillard' s attentions, received them 
 that evening with a gentle courtesy, 
 very different from the cold reserve she 
 had manifested at their first meeting ; so 
 that when our friend took leave of his 
 beautiful intended, his passion had in- 
 creased to such a height, that if any- 
 thing had occurred to break off the mar- 
 riage, it would have been a very long 
 time before he acquired sufficient forti- 
 tude to submit to the disappointment 
 with reasonable calmness. 
 
 This delightful evening was followed 
 by a stormy morning. One of the 
 book-keepers friends, like him em- 
 ployed in a commercial house, had bu- 
 siness to transact with Mademoiselle 
 
 Lebeau, and Chevillard happened to be 
 present when he came in. 
 
 He was so anxious to bring out" his 
 malicious and indiscreet pleasantry, 
 that, with a hasty bow to the mistress 
 of the house, he turned to the clerk, 
 exclaiming : " Why Chevillard ! since 
 when, pray, do you associate with am- 
 bassadors' ladies r" 
 
 " Ambassadors' ladies !" replied the 
 book-keeper, rather surprised at the 
 question. 
 
 " Ambassadors or bankers, I don't 
 know which; but, in short, ladies who 
 take you to the opera, in a fine carriage, 
 with grey horses and two footmen !" 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau's surprise at 
 this speech was beyond the power of 
 description ; she looked anxiously at 
 Chevillard, who grew very red ; but, 
 instantly making up his mind to -what 
 was inevitable, he replied : " Ah ! so 
 you saw me r Where were you r" 
 
 " Why, I was in the pit, whilst you 
 were seated in such state by the side of 
 that charming creature ; I can tell you, 
 her beauty caused quite a sensation in 
 the house." 
 
 " Oh! so that was the business that 
 obliged you to go out last night r" ex- 
 claimed Mademoiselle Lebeau, hurried 
 on this occasion out of her usual re- 
 serve. 
 
 " Upon my word, mademoiselle," 
 said Chevillard, confused, like a man 
 who has been detected in a glaring false- 
 hood, " you would be in the wrong to 
 attach any importance to this visit to 
 the theatre. The persons I accompanied 
 are old friends of my family, who have 
 come to spend some time at Paris." 
 
 " And who tells you, sir," returned 
 the lady, with a warmth which betrayed 
 her secret thoughts, " that I attach any 
 importance to the society you may 
 please to frequent ; is it any concern of 
 mine ? Only I think it is very ridicu- 
 lous, that you should make a mystery 
 of these things, as if I were a person 
 likely to refuse you leave of absence, 
 when you ask it." 
 
 " Certainly," answered Chevillard, " I 
 might have told you the plain fact ; 
 but I recollected, that, only a week ago, 
 you appeared displeased because I went 
 to dine with Chabouillant." 
 
 " But, Mr. Chevillard, you know why 
 I object to your intimacy with that 
 person : he is a man of no principle, 
 and there is everything to lose in his 
 society. I3ut as I suppose the lady, 
 ivhose beauty made such, a sensation, is 
 not, as a woman, what Mr. Chabouillant 

 
 THE MYSTEEY OF CRIME. 
 
 is as a man, you need not have made 
 a secret of your engagement." 
 
 Chevillard was in an awkward posi- 
 tion ; he saw one way to escape from it, 
 by getting angry ; so, assuming a seri- 
 ons and dignified tone : " Mademoi- 
 selle," said he, " I likewise think it 
 strange, that you seem to direct un- 
 pleasant insinuations against a person, 
 with whom you are not acquainted. I 
 beg to assure you, that the ladies, in 
 whose society I was seen yesterday, are 
 most respectable women." 
 
 " Upon my soul, I should think so!" 
 cried the loquacious originator of the 
 
 i dispute ; " with, such a slap-up turn 
 
 ! out !" 
 
 " As to you, my good fellow," con- 
 
 ! tinued the book-keeper, " I shall thank 
 you another time to keep your own 
 counsel : you see what your thought- 
 less chattering has occasioned." 
 
 " Oh, indeed !" retorted the other, 
 angry at being thus reproved ; " you 
 need not make such a fuss about the 
 matter ; I think it is very ridiculous, 
 for you to be lecturing everybody in 
 this way." 
 
 " Come, come ; quite enough has 
 been said!" interrupted Mademoielles
 
 42 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 Lebeau, in an authoritative tone, thus 
 preventing some angry retort ; and 
 turning to the visitor, she asked him for 
 the invoice he was to bring. Upon re- 
 ceiving the paper, she requested Che- 
 villard to go and verify the amount by 
 his books ; and, anxious to avoid any 
 further chance of collision between the 
 parties, immediately dismissed the in- 
 discreet babbler, with a promise to send 
 the money in the course of the day. 
 
 By losing his temper at the right 
 moment, Chevillard had got out of this 
 scrape pretty well ; nevertheless, the 
 inopportune discovery that had been 
 made, caused him considerable embar- 
 rassment. He had an engagement for 
 that evening at the house of Madame 
 de Saint-Martin, when he was to be 
 formally accepted by his fair intended, 
 and after what had just passed, it 
 seemed almost impossible that he could 
 ask leave to absent himself. 
 
 This same discovery had deeply 
 wounded Mademoiselle Lebeau, and 
 had completely changed, for the mo- 
 ment, her usually kind and obliging 
 temper. During the whole day, she 
 was captious and arbitrary, and after 
 dinner (thus, without knowing it, anti- 
 cipating his wishes), she said with 
 apparent good-nature: " Mr. Chevillard, 
 if you have any engagement for this 
 evening, with the old friends of your 
 family, pray do not stand upon cere- 
 mony ; I can spare you without incon- 
 venience." 
 
 Chevillard felt the irony ; but he 
 pretended to think that no more was 
 meant than met the ear, and cordially 
 thanking the fair mercer, he hastened 
 to profit by the permission he had re- 
 ceived. The meeting with his intended 
 was a matter of form rather than a seri- 
 ous interview, and therefore any de- 
 tailed account would not afford much 
 interest to the reader; but there was 
 one circumstance connected with it 
 which is worthy of remark. The young 
 lady who, the evening before, listened 
 to her admirer with the most graceful 
 affability, had now resumed the con- 
 strained and absent manner which had 
 struck him so forcibly when he first saw 
 her at Legros' house. But he was not 
 alarmed by this change of demeanour ; 
 a well-educated girl always feels, on 
 such an occasion, a diffidence which is 
 easily understood and accounted for. 
 
 As" for Madame de Saint-Martin, she 
 evidently considered, that her adopted 
 daughter had given a definitive consent, 
 for she immediately treated Chevillard 
 
 on the footing of a son-in-law, and 
 began to discuss domestic arrangements. 
 She suggested, that, as his wife was to 
 remain with her during his absence, it 
 would be quite unnecessary to think of 
 furniture, &c., and that her house could 
 serve as his temporary residence after 
 the marriage had taken place. She 
 added, that as circumstances obliged 
 them to an unusual degree of precipita- 
 tion, she thought it best that every- 
 thing should be conducted as privately 
 as possible, to prevent the comments and 
 questions which this peculiarity might 
 occasion. Instead, therefore, of inviting 
 a numerous company, or giving a grand 
 entertainment, she proposed merely to 
 offer a breakfast, after the ceremony had 
 been performed, to the wedding party 
 and their witnesses. For the same 
 reason, she advised Chevillard not to 
 make his approaching marriage gene- 
 rally known, for that people were 
 always ready to give their advice on 
 matters which did not concern them, 
 and to object to arrangements of the 
 propriety of which they were often not 
 competent to judge. 
 
 Chevillard assented without hesita- 
 tion to all these arrangements, which 
 appeared to him very sensible ; and de- 
 clared that he should speak to no one 
 but the two friends, whom he proposed 
 to invite as the witnesses to his union 
 with Esther, and the mistress of the 
 house in which he was employed. He 
 must of course inform her of his in- 
 tended marriage, that she might have 
 time to engage some one in his place, and 
 also, tha the might enjoy the facility of 
 paying a daily visit to his intended. 
 
 Wishing probably to ascertain, if the 
 last mentioned person was deserving of 
 the confidence Chevillard intended to 
 repose in her, Madame de Saint- Martin 
 (who being, as she said, a woman of 
 noble family, regarded any one engaged 
 in trade with considerable contempt) 
 asked in a disdainful tone, what sort of 
 woman she was to whom he wished to 
 communicate his plans. 
 
 " Oh ! she is a very superior young 
 lady," replied Chevillard, " to whom I 
 may entrust them with perfect safety." 
 
 " How, sir!" said Esther, much inter- 
 ested ; " a young lady is at the head of 
 the large establishment in which you 
 hold a situation?" 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle, and I must say 
 she manages it very well ; only she is 
 rather too fond of doing everything her- 
 self, and of asking no one's advice." 
 
 " But then, sir," continued the fair
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CEIME. 
 
 43 
 
 girl, " what I have so often heard 
 repeated is absolutely false, that it is 
 impossible for women to maintain them- 
 selves honourably by their own exer- 
 tions ?" 
 
 " I can only say, that there are a 
 great many women who succeed ex- 
 tremely well in trade ; but I would not 
 venture to affirm, that they are among 
 the most amiable and pleasing of their 
 sex : they have in general limited un- 
 derstandings, cold hearts, and vulgar 
 manners." 
 
 " But at least, sir, they are most esti- 
 mable," returned Esther, with singular 
 animation. " It is a noble thing to owe 
 no one anything, and to attain by one's 
 own exertions, to an independent and 
 honourable existence !" 
 
 " Certainly !" said Chevillard, much 
 surprised at the excited manner of his 
 intended, whilst making this remark. 
 But he immediately recollected, that 
 Madame de Saint-Martin was said to 
 treat her adopted daughter with some 
 degree of harshness, and therefore he 
 could have easily accounted for the 
 admiration which the latter expressed 
 for those, who have attained indepen- 
 dence by the successful exercise of their 
 talents, even if that adroit lady had not 
 quickly observed : " You see, my dear 
 sir, there is a certain tendency to 
 romantic ideas, and I am glad you 
 should know of it beforehand, because 
 it is a little defect which you will have 
 to look after when you are married." 
 
 Viewed in either of these lights, 
 Esther's sudden animation could not be 
 displeasing to her lover ; on the con- 
 trary, the elevated sentiments she had 
 so spontaneously expressed, gave him a 
 still more advantageous opinion of her 
 to whom he was soon to unite his 
 destiny. Nothing more passed worthy 
 of being recorded ; Chevillard left soon 
 after, promising to call on Legros the 
 next morning, to make arrangements for 
 the speedy termination of the necessary 
 preliminaries, and reached home more 
 satisfied, and more in love than ever. 
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 WHEX Chevillard presented himself 
 at the law-agent's on the following day, 
 he was told by the servant, that her 
 master was engaged on important busi- 
 ness with a client, but that he begged, 
 he would call again in the course of the 
 morning. Now the clerk, who, the day 
 before, had occasioned so much mischief 
 and sorrow by his indiscreet communi- 
 
 cation, did not live far from the Rue des 
 Moulins; he was one of the book- 
 keeper's particular friends, and from 
 the first, our lover had thought of ask- 
 ing him to be one of his witnesses. 
 Having therefore some time upon his 
 hands, he resolved to pay a visit to this 
 young man, partly that he might prefer 
 his request in proper time, and partly 
 because, like all happy people, he felt 
 an irresistible desire to speak of his good 
 fortune. 
 
 Upon seeing him enter at so early an 
 hour, his friend at first thought that he 
 might have come to call him to account 
 for his babbling the day before ; he was 
 therefore agreeably surprised, when, in- 
 stead of the reproaches he expected, he 
 heard that a favour was to be solicited. 
 As Chevillard did not mention the 
 altercation which he had occasioned, he 
 felt bound to offer some excuses for his 
 apparent indiscretion, and frankly con- 
 fessed that his real motive had been to 
 verify certain reports which were pre- 
 valent in the trade, relative to the par- 
 ticular favour with which Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau was said to honour her head- 
 clerk. He added, that from the way 
 the poor girl had fired up at the mere 
 mention of the ladies in whose com- 
 pany Chevillard had been detected, he 
 could no longer doubt the truth of these 
 rumours, and he warmly congratulated 
 his friend on the excellent match which 
 was at his disposal. 
 
 " It is a very strange thing," replied 
 Chevillard; " everybody talks to me of 
 this wonderful passion, of which I have 
 really never seen the slightest indica- 
 tion. But, at all events, my dear friend," 
 continued he, with a confident air, " I 
 have something better than that in 
 view." 
 
 " How! better than that? I think, if 
 you marry such an agreeable woman, 
 and become the master of an establish- 
 ment like the Tricoloured Prism, you 
 may consider yourself a confoundedly 
 lucky dog." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but I aim at higher 
 things. And it is to ask you to be one 
 of the witnesses to this union, which I 
 must say will be rather a cut above the 
 common, that I have come here this 
 morning." 
 
 " Why, bless my soul ! what princess 
 are you going to marry r" 
 
 " What did you think of the young 
 lady with whom you saw me at the 
 opera ?" 
 
 " Charming ! on my honour. But 
 tell me, is she the person in question "
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 " Yes, my dear fellow, that's the sort 
 of girl for me ; nothing less would 
 do." 
 
 " And where the deuce did you meet 
 with such a treasure ? You must give 
 me the address ; I have been thinking 
 for some time of putting my head in the 
 noose." 
 
 " Oh ! it was all chance, and by 
 means of a friend." 
 
 " Of course, the kernel answers to the 
 shell ; the fortune is worth stooping 
 for?" 
 
 " No, there is no fortune in the case," 
 said Chevillard, assuming a contrite 
 look, as if he were confessing a fault." 
 
 " Ah! that's another story; the sun's 
 shorn of its beams !" 
 
 " Yes, she is a portionless girl, whom 
 I marry for her beauty alone," con- 
 tinued Chevillard, in the same tone ; 
 " only, as a sort of encouragement, she 
 procures for me a situation worth six 
 thousand francs." 
 
 " What did you say :" returned the 
 other, in great surprise. 
 
 " I said a situation worth six thou- 
 sand francs, and perhaps the prospect of 
 making a large fortune in the commis- 
 sariat-department ; you see, this may be 
 considered quite as an imprudent love- 
 match." 
 
 The witness elect asked for some 
 further particulars of his friend's singu- 
 lar good fortune, and Chevillard put 
 him in possession of the general bear- 
 ings of the affair, omitting some details 
 which it appeared to him unnecessary 
 to mention, such as Esther's illegitimate 
 birth, and the widowhood and prompt 
 absence by which his marriage was to 
 be followed. 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow, I congratu- 
 late you," said the confidant of these 
 brilliant prospects ; " but would you wish 
 to hear my candid opinion r" 
 
 " With whom should you speak 
 freely, if not with me r" replied Che- 
 villard. 
 
 " Well, then, if I were in your place, 
 I should have contented myself with 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau ; this match would 
 have been more suitable for you than 
 the other." 
 
 " Come, come, my good fellow, you 
 don't say what you think." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; the more I 
 think about it, the more it seems to 
 me that you are leaving gold for 
 tinsel." 
 
 " So you think nothing of a salary 
 such as not one house in the trade 
 would give, and the chance of making a 
 
 fortune like a nabob, with a little skill 
 and perseverance." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, that is all very fine ; 
 but you will enter a family of which 
 you know nothing, and who may one 
 day taunt you with your mercantile 
 origin ; instead of being at the head of 
 a nourishing establishment, you will be 
 dependent upon a contractor, and such 
 men often promise more than they per- 
 form. They make use of others to serve 
 their own ends, and then forget them. 
 Besides, their business is a very hazard- 
 ous one. If I were you, I would think 
 twice of it." 
 
 " Why don't you tell me too, that I 
 am wrong to marry a pretty woman, 
 whose beauty may expose me to a thou- 
 sand troubles !" said Chevillard, ironi- 
 cally, for he imagined that a secret 
 feeling of jealousy dictated these re- 
 marks. 
 
 " Well, faith! you would not be the 
 first; such things have been, youknow." 
 
 " So then," returned Chevillard, " you 
 refuse to be witness to a union, which 
 according to you must inevitably lead to 
 my ruin ?" 
 
 " I said no such thing ; and as for 
 my advice, make what use you please 
 of it." 
 
 " Then I depend on you, my dear 
 fellow," said the book-keeper ; and 
 wishing to escape from a conversation 
 which annoyed him, he was preparing 
 to depart, when his friend the damper 
 exclaimed: " But, I say, man, have you 
 plenty of ready cash, that you are going 
 to marry in such style :" 
 
 " On the contrary, I make a stylish 
 marriage, because I was never so hard- 
 up in my life." 
 
 " Indeed ! and the corbeille,* who is 
 to pay for that :" 
 
 " The deuce !" exclaimed Chevillard, 
 who had not thought of this difficulty ; 
 " that's true enough, what you say!" 
 
 " My dear fellow, I wish I could 
 assist you ; but I myself am out at 
 elbows." 
 
 " Ah ! I know some one who will 
 manage that matter," said our hero, 
 after some little reflection ; " we shall 
 not make shipwreck for such a trifle as 
 that." 
 
 Then begging his prudent friend not 
 to mention the circumstance of his in- 
 tended marriage to any one, as it might 
 excite a great deal of envious feeling, 
 and put in commotion the whole silk- 
 market, he wished him good morning. 
 
 * The usual presents offered by the bride- 
 groom to the bride.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CHIME. 
 
 45 
 
 The friend promised inviolable secrecy, 
 and Chevillard set off once more to seek 
 Legros, judging that he must be by this 
 time disengaged. As soon as he entered, 
 the law-agent exclaimed : " Well, Mr. 
 Lover, was last evening's interview 
 satisfactory?" 
 
 " Perfectly so," replied Chevillard ; 
 and he related all that had passed and 
 been agreed on. He even mentioned 
 Esther's enthusiastic sally on the sub- 
 ject of women engaged in trade, whose 
 position she appeared to envy ; and Le- 
 gros concurred with him in the suppo- 
 sition, that the young girl had taken 
 that opportunity to protest against the 
 somewhat despotic sway of Madame de 
 Saint-Martin. Many necessary formali- 
 ties were then discussed, and every- 
 thing being satisfactorily concluded, 
 Chevillard, after some hesitation, ad- 
 dressed Legros as follows : " My kind 
 protector, we have forgotten one very 
 important point." 
 
 " What is that ?" said the law- 
 agent. 
 
 " It is impossible for me to think of 
 marrying in my present position." 
 
 " What ! impossible for you to 
 marry !" cried the other, in the greatest 
 amazement. " Are you mad ?" 
 
 " My dear sir, you are better ac- 
 quainted than any one with my strait- 
 ened means ; and I ask you, how can I 
 provide suitable marriage presents ?" 
 
 " Oh, is that all !" said Legros, as if 
 relieved from a load of anxiety. 
 
 " Why, it is something, to have to 
 purchase a corbeille !" 
 
 " My dear fellow, do you wish to 
 offend Esther's guardian r" 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 <( Then be so good as to abandon all 
 such extravagant notions. Morizot is a 
 practical man ; he is aware of your 
 position as to fortune, it was my duty 
 to inform him of everything (always 
 excepting the gambling- adventure, you 
 know), and if he saw you incur useless 
 expenses, and reap before you sow, I 
 can assure you, he would be quite 
 capable of breaking off the marriage." 
 
 " But yet, this is a customary thing, 
 and *' 
 
 " My dear fellow, your marriage is a 
 thing quite out of the common way, 
 and therefore cannot be judged by 
 ordinary rules. Besides, Esther is loaded 
 with presents by Madame de Saint- 
 Martin, who has always supplied her 
 with everything suitable, as well as 
 by Morizot, who is as proud of her as if 
 she were his own daughter, so do not 
 
 conjure up difficulties where they do not 
 really exist ; to tell you the truth, the 
 question has been already considered, 
 and it has been settled that nothing is 
 expected from you." 
 
 "Well," said Chevillard, "if that 
 is the case, I will say no more about 
 it." 
 
 " Yes, yes, my boy," continued Le- 
 gros, accompanying him out, " make 
 your mind easy ; try to gain the affec- 
 tions of your intended, and in twelve 
 days' time for I hope there will be no 
 longer delay you will tell me what you 
 think of the treasure and the angel I 
 have helped you to." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EVERYTHING seemed to smile on Che- 
 villard ; there was only one drawback 
 to his satisfaction, and this was the 
 thought how Mademoiselle Lebeau 
 would receive the confidence he in- 
 tended to repose in her. 
 
 As he had never given any credit to 
 the reports which had been circulated 
 respecting her affection for him, he did 
 not suppose that the announcement of 
 his approaching marriage could awaken 
 any painful emotions in the heart of this 
 amiable young girl. But in a commer- 
 cial point of view, he was persuaded 
 she must regret extremely the loss of 
 such an intelligent and experienced 
 clerk, and he therefore anticipated a 
 storm of remonstrances and advice, or 
 at the very least a cold acquiescence, 
 which held out no very agreeable pros- 
 pect for the short time he should remain 
 in the house. In fine, he felt this inter- 
 view to be a regular bore ; but as he 
 could not avoid it, he resolved to get it 
 over as quickly as possible. As soon 
 therefore as he reached home, assuming 
 a gravity which he considered befitted 
 the important revelation he was going 
 to make, he requested to have some 
 private conversation with Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau. The amiable and single-heart- 
 ed girl imagined, that Chevillard was 
 weary of the sort of latent hostility 
 which had existed between them during 
 the last few days, and as sullen and re- 
 sentful feelings were completely foreign 
 to her nature, she not only complied 
 instantly with his request, but secretly 
 resolved to be very placable, and to 
 forget and forgive at the first word of 
 conciliation. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," Chevillard began, 
 " I have too constantly experienced the 
 kindness of your excellent father and
 
 4G 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 yourself, not to feel profoundly grate- 
 ful." 
 
 " Mr. Chevillard," replied the young 
 lady, " if you have been satisfied with 
 our conduct towards you, I can assure 
 you we have always been perfectly 
 satisfied with your services, and I take 
 with pleasure this opportunity of ex- 
 pressing as much to you." 
 
 " Nevertheless," continued the ac- 
 countant, " and though I must say that 
 my position in this establishment is in 
 every respect desirable, I am bound to 
 think of the future ; and that which is 
 Avell suited to a young man, may be no 
 longer so as we advance in life.' 
 
 The conversation appeared to be taking 
 a turn not unpleasing to Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, as it accorded with certain 
 plans of her own. So she answered, 
 gaily : " Fortunately, you have still 
 some years before you." 
 
 " True ; but our determinations are 
 often influenced by circumstances. I beg 
 you to believe, that nothing but a very 
 peculiar and unexpected occurrence 
 could have induced me to leave this 
 house." 
 
 " Leave !" exclaimed Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau ; " you surely cannot intend to 
 do that !" 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; my resolution 
 is taken, and I have entered into 
 engagements from which I cannot 
 recede." 
 
 "Then decidedly, Mr. Chevillard, 
 you have not the good disposition for 
 which I gave you credit. I should 
 never have thought, that the little dis- 
 agreement which has taken place, would 
 have led you to form a determination like 
 that which you have just announced 
 with so much indifference." 
 
 " You mistake, mademoiselle, when 
 you suppose me influenced by the slight 
 misunderstanding to which you allude. 
 I assure you, I too sincerely regret this 
 separation, to have resolved upon it for 
 a trifling cause." 
 
 " Well, then ! " said Mademoiselle 
 
 Lebeau, very kindly, for she thought he 
 wished to retract. 
 
 " I think, mademoiselle, you will ap- 
 preciate the importance of my motive, 
 when I tell you, that I only leave you 
 to be married." 
 
 At these words, the fair mercer 
 changed countenance ; but the impres- 
 sion passed away with the rapidity of 
 lightning, and the force of emotion was 
 repressed by the force of will. 
 
 "Ah! you are going to be married! 
 that is a different thing, sir that 
 
 is all very well !" said she, with a 
 voice which trembled almost imper- 
 ceptibly. 
 
 Chevillard was certainly aware, that 
 his words had produced some degree of 
 agitation, but as he was morally inca- 
 pable of comprehending the energy 
 with which a strong mind represses all 
 outward manifestations of emotion, he 
 judged from these slight appearances, 
 that the commercial cuticle alone (so to 
 speak) had been touched, and therefore 
 proceeded boldly to give a more de- 
 tailed account of his prospects. " Yes, 
 mademoiselle," said he, " it is a very 
 desirable connexion, and one much be- 
 yond my expectations. The young lady 
 is gifted with great personal charms, and 
 places me in a position as to fortune " 
 
 " And when is this marriage to take 
 place?" abruptly interposed Mademoi- 
 selle Lebeau, who did not conceive her- 
 self obliged to listen with unwearied 
 patience to the long account of his good 
 fortune, which Chevillard appeared dis- 
 posed to inflict upon her. 
 
 "In about a fortnight's time." 
 
 " That is well !" said the fair mercer, 
 in as indifferent a tone as she could 
 assume ; " I will immediately make in- 
 quires for some one to replace you ; 
 and indeed, as it is not difficult to meet 
 with a book-keeper, and I can take 
 charge of the cash-department in the 
 interim, I beg you will consider yourself 
 as at liberty from this time, if that suits 
 your views better." 
 
 Chevillard had not imagined, that 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau would receive his 
 communication in so chilling and care- 
 less a manner ; he would have greatly 
 preferred a sharp opposition, for this had 
 at least enabled him to talk of his happy 
 prospects, and to flatter himself that his 
 services were regretted. However, he 
 would not allow himself to be thus put 
 on the shelf without ceremony. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said he, "I think 
 you are in a great hurry to get rid of 
 me, and yet you allow that you are 
 quite satisfied with my services ; how is 
 this ?" 
 
 " I assure you, that you are most wel- 
 come to remain here so long as you find 
 it convenient ; but I know there is 
 always a great deal to be done on such 
 occasions, and I thought it would be 
 agreeable to you to be at liberty as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 " You must be aware, mademoiselle, 
 that I cannot treat your residence as a 
 lodging-house : if you dispense with my 
 services, I can certainly not remain."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CHIME. 
 
 47 
 
 " Well, Mr. Chevillard," said the fair 
 mercer, gently, " if you think you can 
 still, without much inconvenience to 
 yourself, give a little attention to my 
 affairs, I am far from opposing your 
 wishes ; so do exactly as you please." 
 
 " It is very strange !" resumed the 
 mortified book-keeper ; "I imagined, 
 from the marks of kindness with which 
 you have so often favoured me, that 
 you would take more interest in the 
 happy event which I have just commu- 
 nicated to you." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear sir," replied Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau, " it is so difficult to 
 know whether he who enters into the 
 marriage-state has a chance for happi- 
 ness or for misery. He can never ex- 
 pect unqualified and warm approbation 
 but from himself." 
 
 " But I consider, that I am acting 
 prudently and advantageously for the 
 future," said Chevillard, much piqued. 
 
 " I fervently hope it may be the 
 case," replied Mademoiselle Lebeau, 
 without however infusing TOMch. fervour 
 into her tone ; and rising as she said 
 this, she went into her bedroom, leaving 
 Chevillard sufficiently disappointed by 
 the manner in which his confidence had 
 been received. Here she was soon in- 
 terrupted by the principal shopwoman, 
 who afterwards informed her compa- 
 nions, with an air of great mystery, that 
 she could not tell what ailed Mademoi- 
 selle that she seemed to be quite upset, 
 and her eyes were red and swollen, as if 
 she had been crying. 
 
 The mortified clerk, meantime, de- 
 liberated for a moment, whether he 
 would leave the house immediately or 
 not. But he did not much like the idea 
 of settling elsewhere for a few days, 
 and as he felt that a precipitate depar- 
 ture would look like a decided rupture, 
 he quickly abandoned all thought of so 
 intemperate and improper a proceeding. 
 He went to his books as if nothing un- 
 usual had occurred, but his thoughts 
 wandered from the task before him, for 
 his self-love had been deeply wounded ; 
 and though his heart and head were en- 
 grossed by the thought of his beautiful 
 intended, Mademoiselle Lebeau' s dis- 
 couraging remarks had awakened a 
 vague feeling of doubt, such as is often 
 felt on the eve of a decisive resolution. 
 
 When Mademoiselle Lebeau had paid 
 the first tribute to female weakness, she 
 roused all her energy, and so effectually 
 subdued the bitterness of her grief, that 
 it would have been difficult for the most 
 vigilant eye to penetrate her feelings. 
 
 Exposed during dinner to the general 
 observation, she was grave without being 
 sad ; and though her mind was visibly 
 preoccupied, no one would have guess- 
 ed that it was by any deeper interest 
 than matters of business, as had often 
 been the case before. Her strong good 
 sense preserved her from the common 
 error of wishing to appear gay. A 
 secret grief is never so near betraying 
 itself, as when it strives to assume the 
 mask of thoughtless mirth. 
 
 The morning's conversation had been 
 so abruptly terminated, that Chevillard 
 neglected to recommend secrecy to his 
 fair employer, and he now took an 
 opportunity to do this, with the hope of 
 resuming the account of his felicity and 
 grand prospects. But the young lady, 
 who had not the same reasons for taking 
 pleasure in the subject, dexterously 
 parried his attempt, and briefly promis- 
 ing inviolable discretion, she left home 
 to visit a friend in the neighbourhood, 
 though it was quite contrary to her 
 usual custom to go out during the week. 
 But Chevillard was far from suspecting 
 what passed in the heart of this young 
 girl. To him, the whole proceeding 
 seemed to indicate that sordid, mer- 
 cantile egotism, which cannot forgive 
 any one who deprives it of valuable 
 services. He had unconsciously in- 
 flicted a severe wound, at the very time 
 he was accusing her of being, like all 
 people in trade, thinking only of her 
 own interests, and utterly devoid of 
 sensibility. When he compared her 
 with his charming and adorable Esther, 
 his love for the latter seemed to increase, 
 and he surrendered himself to the 
 thought of passing a delightful evening 
 in her society. 
 
 Having provided himself with a splen- 
 did nosegay to present to his betrothed, 
 he reached the house in the Allee des 
 Veuves, just as the commissary was 
 leaving it. He was received by Esther 
 with a commencement of affectionate 
 familiarity ; and his good looks, cheer- 
 ful temper, and especially the sympa- 
 thetic influence of a sincere and ardent 
 passion, bid fair to increase rapidly the 
 favourable impression he had made. 
 He was now admitted into the intimacy 
 of the family, and during the long 
 hours he passed with this amiable girl, 
 he discovered fresh proofs of that im- 
 pulse towards everything noble and 
 estimable, which she had manifested at 
 his first visit on the footing of a de- 
 clared lover. Notwithstanding the faults 
 of which Chevillard had been guilty at
 
 48 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OK, 
 
 no very distant period, he was of an 
 honourable nature, and could sympa- 
 thise in her enthusiasm without hypo- 
 crisy, and without effort. This inter- 
 change of sentiments increased their 
 mutual attachment ; we say mutual, 
 for Chevillard's affection soon found an 
 echo in the heart of his intended, and 
 harmony and confidence reigned be- 
 tween them. The lover did not fail to 
 question Esther concerning the suspected 
 harshness of Madame de Saint-Martin's 
 maternal sway ; and, though she at first 
 denied that it was so, she was after- 
 wards less anxious to conceal the traces 
 of the secret misunderstanding, which 
 evidently existed between them. As 
 for Madame de Saint-Martin herself, 
 she continued to overwhelm Chevillard 
 with attentions ; but as, in his character 
 of a lover, he considered himself bound 
 to espouse all the supposed grievances 
 of his beloved, he cordially disliked the 
 poor lady, though, in regard to himself, 
 he could make no complaint against her, 
 for she had always treated him with the 
 greatest cordiality. 
 
 It is impossible to go frequently to a 
 house, without seeing a little behind the 
 scene?. Chevillard often met Legros at 
 the Alice des Veuves, and he could not 
 help thinking that there was something 
 more between him and the matronly 
 lady of the dwelling, than the Platonic 
 friendship they professed. This dis- 
 covery gave him some doubts as to the 
 propriety of leaving his young wife un- 
 der the care of a woman whose conduct 
 was not irreproachable, and at the same 
 time it threw light upon the grievances 
 to which Esther was subjected, and 
 afforded an explanation for the fits of 
 musing which he had remarked at their 
 first interview, and in which she still 
 frequently indulged. He supposed, as 
 was indeed very likely, that aware of 
 the real state of the case, the virtuous 
 girl was pained and shocked by the 
 irregularities of those around her ; and 
 if he had dared to ask her the plain 
 question, his supicions would, doubtless, 
 have been fully confirmed. But he 
 feared to alarm her innocence, and re- 
 solved to postpone, until they were 
 married, an explanation of all that now 
 appeared obscure. Upon mature con- 
 sideration, Esther's prolonged residence 
 with Madame de Saint-Martin did not 
 appear to him open to very serious ob- 
 jections ; for, if, when a young girl, 
 abandoned to the guidance of her own 
 excellent nature, his betrothed had so 
 evidently preserved herself pure from 
 
 the habitual contact of her companion, 
 how much more capable would she be of 
 doing so, when protected by his advice, 
 and the experience of her married life. 
 
 There was an additional security too, 
 when he considered the character of 
 Morizot. He had, at first sight, taken a 
 strange prejudice against this man, but 
 as he became better acquainted with 
 him, he soon learned to alter his opinion. 
 Morizot came very rarely to the house, 
 and his visits were always short, but he 
 evinced a truly paternal affection for 
 Esther an attachment in which warm 
 devotion was blended with the most be- 
 coming reserve. Certainly, if he had 
 thought that his ward was not in sure 
 hands, he would not have left her in so 
 dangerous a situation, but would in- 
 stantly have given every attention to 
 the subject. The confidence of the 
 guardian ought to give confidence to the 
 husband. 
 
 By this brief exposition of the pos- 
 ture of affairs in the house of the Allee 
 des Yeuves, and in that of the Tri- 
 coloured Prism, we have made the j 
 reader acquainted with the situation of 
 the various personages of our tale, down 
 to the day before the wedding, which, 
 thanks to the zeal and activity of Le- 
 gros, had experienced no other delay 
 than that which was commanded by the 
 law. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON the morning of the day alluded 
 to in the last chapter, Chevillard was 
 dressing to go out, with the intention of 
 calling on his witnesses, to inform, them 
 of the hour fixed for the ceremony, 
 when he received a message from Ma- 
 demoiselle Lebeau, who wished to speak 
 with him. 
 
 He had not seen her for two days, and 
 was struck with the alteration visible in 
 her countenance, which, nevertheless, 
 retained its usual mild and sweet ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " You have anticipated my intention, 
 mademoiselle," said Chevillard, as he, 
 entered, " for though my marriage is 
 apparently, not so agreeable to you as I 
 could wish, I should certainly have 
 made a point of informing you, that it 
 will take place to-morrow, and begging 
 you to honour me with your presence on 
 the occasion." 
 
 " Indeed," replied Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau, " I am afraid that will not be pos- 
 sible ; the weather is extremely cold, 
 and I have not felt well for some days."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CHIME. 
 
 49 
 
 ' 
 
 ' 
 
 She then arose, and going to her desk, 
 took out a little note-case in green mo- 
 rocco, garnished with steel ornaments, 
 and turning to her former clerk : " Mr. 
 Chevillard," said she, in a tremulous 
 voice, " now that we are going to part, 
 I thought you -would allow me to treat 
 you as one of the family, and to present 
 you with this slight token of remem- 
 brance of those yoxi leave behind." 
 
 As she spoke, she presented the 
 portfolio to the young man, who re- 
 ceived it with thanks, and praised the 
 elegance and good taste displayed in its 
 construction. 
 
 Politeness required that he should 
 glance at the inside, and on doing so, 
 he found that it contained several bank- 
 notes. 
 
 " Permit me, mademoiselle," said he 
 immediately, " to keep the case but to 
 leave its contents." 
 
 " Mr. Chevillard," returned the lady, 
 " I quite expected that you would 
 object to my putting anything into this 
 portfolio ; but allow me to explain to 
 you the right which I have to leave it 
 as it now is. For a long time, I have 
 wished to mark my sense of your ex- 
 cellent services, by raising your salary
 
 .50 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 to a more suitable amount, and this is 
 only the arrears of a large debt of grati- 
 tude which I have purposely allowed 
 to accumulate. You will surely not 
 deprive me at the same moment, of 
 your valuable -co-operation and of the 
 pleasure I feel in acknowledging the 
 good effects it has had on my interests ; 
 it would be too selfish in you to wish 
 me to remain in your debt, just as you 
 take from me all opportunity of acquit- 
 ting myself in future." 
 
 " Certainly, mademoiselle, you turn 
 this in the most delicate manner ; but it is 
 raising a painful source of discussion at 
 this moment, and I must beg you to ac- 
 cede to my wishes, and not say anything 
 more on the subject." 
 
 " Listen to me," said the young girl: 
 " there were certainly many ways in 
 which I might have made you accept, 
 without hesitation, a proof of my grati- 
 tude ; for I presume you do not ques- 
 tion my privilege, as mistress of this es- 
 tablishment, to offer you a wedding 
 present. Well ! I had a reason for 
 choosing this form cf conveying it, 
 though I foresaw your present resist- 
 ance. Shall I tell you that reason r" 
 
 " No one should be condemned with- 
 out being heard," replied Chevillard, 
 rather happily inspired. 
 
 " I know that you have not saved 
 much " 
 
 " You may say nothing ; you have 
 often remonstrated with me about it." 
 
 " I believe you are going to contract a 
 wealthy alliance " 
 
 " A very eligible one at least," inter- 
 rupted the triumphant bridegroom. 
 
 " Well, in such a case, you will be 
 expected to incur certain expenses, 
 which can only be met by contracting 
 ruinous loans. I am sure you would 
 not wish to act differently from others ; 
 and why, when this little capital is 
 strictly yours, should you have recourse 
 to any other purse ? I am your debtor, 
 and you call in the debt to meet a press- 
 ing emergency." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, you are ingenious in 
 your kindness, but I assure you, that 
 nothing of the kind is expected from 
 me ; I have been expressly desired to 
 avoid such expenses." 
 
 " Take care ; in such cases people 
 often like to be disobeyed, and are 
 sometimes internally much vexed by 
 a strict adherence to their requests. 
 Besides, this will not enable you to 
 transgress very far." 
 
 " No, I beg, mademoiselle, you will 
 excuse me " 
 
 " Then I take back the portfolio 
 also !" exclaimed Mademoiselle Lebeau, 
 with great vivacity. " It shall not be 
 said, that you left this house without 
 carrying with you the shadow of a re- 
 membrance. Indeed, if you did, it 
 would be a restraint upon you ; you 
 would not be able to forget us quickly 
 enough!" 
 
 " Ah ! mademoiselle, do not think 
 that ; I can never forget the kindness 
 I have experienced in this house." 
 
 " Yes, sir, you will. He who knows 
 not how to receive has a bad heart, and 
 a bad heart has no memories, especially 
 in friendship." 
 
 " Well, mademoiselle, I yield to your 
 wishes," returned Chevillard, who be- 
 gan to be much affected by this scene ; 
 " but do not say again, that I am in 
 haste to prove myself ungrateful." 
 
 "That is right; I thank you," said 
 the noble-minded girl, deeply moved by 
 the sacrifice Chevillard had made of his 
 feelings. " But, indeed," added she, 
 trying to smile, " I did not really think 
 as I spoke ; after passing ten years 
 under the same roof, and in daily 
 intercourse with people, the thought of 
 them will sometimes return to the 
 mind." 
 
 " I trust," replied Chevillard, " that 
 we shall do more than remember each 
 other. You must allow me to introduce 
 my wife to you ; she will be delighted 
 to make your acquaintance, and I hope 
 we shall often see you." 
 
 " Do not deceive yourself," returned 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau ; " there is such 
 a thing as distinction of classes ; you 
 enter a rich family, and you must not 
 expect that they will either wish or 
 condescend to visit a shopkeeper." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, you are mistaken ; 
 persons like you must be well received 
 everywhere.' 
 
 " Well, no matter !" resumed the fair 
 mercer ; " I only wish you may be 
 happy." 
 
 " There is at least every prospect 
 
 " Well, do not let me detain you any 
 longer ; on such a day as this, you must 
 have much to attend to." 
 
 " I cannot venture again to solicit 
 your presence at the ceremony, as your 
 health might suffer from it," said Che- 
 villard, rising, " but I shall be deprived 
 of a great happiness." 
 
 " I do not say no ; I will endeavour 
 to go," returned the young girl, trying 
 to conceal all traces of the struggle that 
 was passing within. " Adieu, Mr.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 51 
 
 Chevillard," added she; " think of us 
 sometimes." 
 
 These words were spoken in so sad a 
 tone, that they were a tardy revelation 
 to Chevillard of the pain he had inflicted 
 on the heart he had so cruelly misun- 
 derstood. When he looked at the noble- 
 minded and courageous victim, he saw 
 that she was pale, and that her eyes 
 were filled, with tears ; and on taking 
 her hand, he found it cold and trembling. 
 As the truth rushed upon his mind, he 
 seemed to lose all power of expressing 
 his feelings, and it was with a faltering 
 voice, that he replied : " Adieu, made- 
 moiselle." 
 
 " Adieu !" repeated Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, with an expression that dis- 
 closed her whole heart ; and Chevillard 
 too must have been deeply affected, for, 
 as he left the room, he stopped to wipe 
 the tears from his eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHEN movement in the open air had 
 in some degree restored our hero to 
 calmness, he began to reflect on the 
 singular disclosure which had taken 
 place. The question was now among 
 the might-have-beens, and he asked him- 
 self if it would have been better for 
 him to have known, while it was yet 
 time, that which had just been revealed 
 in extremis. 
 
 He was painfully affected, certainly, 
 to find that he was the involuntary 
 cause of the grief to which the poor 
 young lady remained a prey, but time 
 and another attachment would doubtless 
 bring consolation ; and with regard to 
 himself, he had really no reason to re- 
 gret that he had not been undeceived 
 before it was too late. Reason would have 
 urged him to accept the alliance, if it 
 had been proposed to him in time ; but 
 then he would have bound himself to 
 trade for life, while he felt an irresisti- 
 ble impulse to enter upon a wider and 
 more elevated sphere ; and besides, 
 notwithstanding the many excellent 
 qualities which Mademoiselle Lebeau 
 indisputably possessed, could he be sure 
 that the imperious and domineering 
 spirit she had sometimes shown, would 
 not have disturbed the harmony of their 
 union ? 
 
 " Well," thought he, dismissing these 
 now useless reflections, " Providence 
 orders everything for the best ;" and 
 recurring to the most material interest 
 he could think of, in order to dispel the 
 sentimental mist which clouded his 
 
 faculties, he resolved to ascertain the 
 contents of the portfolio, which had 
 been pressed upon him with such inge- 
 nious delicacy. He found in it four 
 bank-notes of a thousand francs each ; 
 that is to say, a gratuity equivalent to 
 more than a year's salary. If Legros 
 had not so positively signified that he 
 was to resist the dictates of his gene- 
 rosity, he would have found an imme- 
 diate use for this sum, and indulged in 
 one of the most delicious pleasures of 
 this world, namely, that of giving to 
 those we love ; but this satisfaction 
 was denied him, and he therefore 
 thought of another useful and honour- 
 able destination for the money ; it 
 would serve to free him from his gam- 
 bling debt, and cancel the bill of ex- 
 change. 
 
 In pursuance of this design, he re- 
 paired to the law-agent, and after some 
 desultory conversation, announced his 
 intention of coming to a settlement with 
 him. 
 
 Legros did not meet this overture 
 with the satisfaction which would have 
 been natural in a creditor, and observed 
 drily : " So then, you have been play- 
 ing again, notwithstanding your pro- 
 mises r" 
 
 " You are mistaken, my dear sir," re- 
 plied Chevillard ; and to remove all sus- 
 picion as to the source whence he had 
 obtained the money, he added : " My 
 employer, when I took leave of her, 
 obliged me to accept this acknowledg- 
 ment of my services." 
 
 " You ought not to have taken this 
 present," interrupted the law- agent with 
 great asperity ; " from the day on which 
 you announced to this person your in- 
 tention of leaving her house, all con- 
 nexion with hfir should have been at an 
 end." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Legros, allow me to 
 observe, that you don't know how the 
 thing took place. I was so situated, that 
 it was impossible to refuse." 
 
 " I tell you again, you ought not to 
 have taken this money." 
 
 " And I tell you, that in doing so, I 
 acted rightly and wisely. I should have 
 singular notions of honour, if I threw 
 away the means offered me to discharge 
 so sacred a debt as mine is." 
 
 " This debt seems to weigh heavily 
 upon your mind," said Legros, bitterly. 
 
 " Not so, for I have to do with an in- 
 dulgent creditor ; but still, it is a debt, 
 and I wish to clear myself, now that I 
 have the means in my power." 
 
 " It is incredible people should have
 
 52 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 so little perception of these niceties of 
 sentiment !" cried the law-agent, as if 
 thinking aloud. 
 
 " How ! niceties ?" said Chevillard ; 
 " I do not know what you mean." 
 
 " As soon as you have this money in 
 your possession, you come to insult me 
 by an offer of repayment." 
 
 " My dear friend, you take things as 
 they are not meant." 
 
 " It is you, on the contrary, who have 
 no perception of what is proper. Is it 
 possible you do not feel, that in your 
 peculiar position there is but one way 
 of appropriating the money?" 
 
 " I am not sure that I understand 
 you," said Chevillard ; " do you mean 
 to say that I ought to expend it in 
 wedding presents ?" 
 
 " You pretend to be in love," re- 
 turned Legros, " and you ask such a 
 question !" 
 
 " Why, devil of a fellow that you are !" 
 cried the good-natured young man, with 
 an impatience that had nothing very 
 serious in it at bottom, " you told me, 
 yourself, that by appearing extravagant, 
 I should get into disgrace with Mr. 
 Morizot." 
 
 " I believe you !" replied the law- 
 agent ; " you wished to play the gallant 
 at the expense of my pocket !" 
 
 " What an odd being you are !" said 
 Chevillard, laughing at this ingenuous 
 confession ; " you will not take your 
 money when I Avish to return it, and 
 you invent tales to avoid lending any." 
 
 " My dear fellow, you cannot com- 
 prehend anything ; I tell you again, 
 that Morizot knows your debtor and 
 creditor account to a penny, and that 
 the balance is exactly nothing." 
 
 " Well, what then r" said Chevillard. 
 
 " To launch out into expenses would 
 have been to tell him you had been 
 bleeding my purse ; whilst on the con- 
 trary, having money of your own, you 
 employ it as custom dictates, and you 
 act only in a becoming and generous 
 manner." 
 
 " So we come back to my original 
 idea. Ah, well ! it has not been without 
 trouble. But, tell me, what purchases 
 would you advise me to make with the 
 thousand crowns I had brought you r" 
 
 " A thousand crowns, is that the sum 
 at your disposal:" 
 
 " I have four thousand francs, but I 
 keep back a fourth part for unforeseen 
 expenses; you cannot say I throw money 
 out of the windows." 
 
 " Humph ! with a thousand crowns 
 you might get some pretty trinkets, 
 
 some shawls, or I really don't know 
 exactly. But," continued he, with as- 
 sumed indifference, " you doubtless 
 mean to make some little offering to 
 Madame de Saint-Martin r" 
 
 " It would perhaps be proper ; what 
 do you think r" 
 
 " I think, my dear fellow, that a pre- 
 sent is always agreeable to a woman, 
 unless it be offered as an insult to her 
 virtue." 
 
 " Certainly ; but what sort of present 
 would be best?" 
 
 " Ah !" cried Legros, impatiently ; 
 " I see there is no making you under- 
 stand things. Come now, you must 
 suppose that a curiosity-hunter like 
 myself has some acquaintances in the 
 trade ;" and he glanced round at his 
 immense collection. 
 
 " Yes, but I will not buy anything 
 shabby." 
 
 " On no account ; I should not wish 
 you to have old rubbish, but if you 
 think that a man who has some taste 
 and great experience in buying, can 
 assist you in any way, I am at your 
 service, for the day will soon slip 
 away." 
 
 " Really, my dear sir, your offer is 
 very acceptable, and here is the money." 
 
 " Tery well," said Legros ; " at what 
 time this evening do you intend to be 
 in the Alice des Veuves ?" 
 
 " Seven o'clock at the latest," replied 
 Chevillard. 
 
 " Then I will be there about that 
 time ; and as we have not funds suffici- 
 ent to furnish a regular corbeille, the 
 presents must be offered in a quiet way, 
 without ceremony." 
 
 " All is settled then," said Chevillard. 
 " Select the best you can find for Esther, 
 and something pretty for Madame de 
 Saint-Martin, but not so as to take too 
 much from the other present." 
 
 " I will do my best, and I think you 
 will be satisfied," returned Legros. 
 
 Upon this, the lover took his leave, 
 having done, as is too often the case in 
 life, exactly the contrary of that which 
 he intended. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE eve of Chevillard's marriage 
 might truly be called a day of tears. 
 When he reached the Alice des Veuves, 
 he found Esther more than ever a prey 
 to that vague melancholy the true cause 
 of which was as yet unknown to him, 
 and he even thought that she had been 
 crying. He seated himself by her side,
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 and questioned her tenderly on the 
 source of her grief; but she gave him 
 no satisfactory explanation, and at 
 length his self-love -was alarmed ; he 
 feared that his intended felt a secret re- 
 pugnance at the approaching union. 
 When he mentioned his fears, Esther 
 answered in a manner which proved 
 that she was strongly attached to him ; 
 but still pressed to discover the reason 
 of her sadness, she at last said : " Per- 
 haps, it would be better for this mar- 
 riage not to take place !" 
 
 " Are you crazy, to talk thus ;" cried 
 Madame de Saint-Martin. " Have your 
 inclinations been forced ? Could you 
 not say this at first, instead of waiting 
 to the last moment ?" 
 
 " I did not know at first what I know 
 now," replied Esther. 
 
 " What is it that you know? What 
 has been told you, concerning me :" 
 cried Chevillard, with warmth. 
 
 " Nothing, sir ; and it is because I 
 have known how to appreciate your 
 worth, that I hesitate at this moment." 
 
 " Indeed, that is singular ; if I were 
 a worthless, unprincipled man, would 
 you then prefer me " 
 
 Esther did not answer ; so that, not- 
 withstanding the absurdity of Chevil- 
 lard's supposition, it was not contra- 
 dicted. This, unpleasantly enigmatical 
 conversation had proceeded so far, when 
 the door opened, and Legros entered. 
 " How now r" said he, seeing that 
 every brow was clouded; "you all 
 look as if you had been quarrelling !" 
 
 "Oh! it's Esther," replied Madame 
 de Saint-Martin, impatiently, " who is 
 making a scene about I know not what, 
 and says that, perhaps the marriage had 
 better not take place." 
 
 " The deuce she does !" exclaimed 
 Legros ; " but when things are so far 
 advanced, they are not to be broken off 
 so easily ; and besides, here I come with 
 my pockets full of ornaments, which 
 Chevillard had commissioned me to 
 buy. Now, how pleasant it will be to 
 have to take all these things back 
 again!" 
 
 " How, sir !" said Esther, looking 
 gratefully at her lover ; " you have been 
 kind enough to think of me " 
 
 " See," continued Legros, drawing a 
 jewel-case from his pocket, " only look 
 at this set of turquoises, and this dia- 
 mond hoop, and these clasps in bril- 
 liants and then, for Madame de Saint- 
 Martin, this solitaire and tell me if a 
 man of so much gallantry is one to be 
 discarded r" 
 
 " Truly !" said Chevillard, ' if that 
 were my only merit in the eyes of this 
 lady, it would not avail me much." 
 
 " Do not deceive yourself, my dear 
 fellow," replied Legros, with a very 
 singular expression of voice ; " women 
 like such toys Mademoiselle Esther 
 especially. She is a spoiled girl, and 
 would think it very hard to give up 
 
 luxuries, and live poorly and with 
 
 the game she is now playing, that 
 might come to pass sooner than she 
 thinks." 
 
 " I do not understand you," said 
 Esther, with much dignity. 
 
 " And I know very well what I 
 mean," replied the law-agent. " You 
 ought to be aware, my dear young lady, 
 that Morizot is a positive man, who 
 does not like caprices. When you were 
 spoken to about this marriage, you did 
 not offer any objection ; and upon that 
 consent, a positive engagement was 
 founded. The situation to which Che- 
 villard has been appointed, has been 
 left open for him during the last fort- 
 night ; and if now, from a whim, you 
 overthrow all these arrangements, take 
 care it may not be merely a marriage 
 which is broken off! The protection 
 to which you have been indebted for an 
 existence which thousands would envy, 
 may perhaps fail you at last !" 
 
 " As for me," said Madame de Saint- 
 Martin, " I am not in a position to 
 make perpetual sacrifices for other 
 people ; and whatever Mr. Morizot 
 thinks proper to do, I shall conform to." 
 
 Esther made no reply, but she threw 
 upon the woman who had spoken with 
 so much harshness, a look of profound 
 contempt. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," Chevillard then said, 
 in a tone which showed that his feel- 
 ings were deeply wounded, " this mar- 
 riage would have made me the happiest 
 of men ; but I find it is not so agreeable 
 to you as I had hoped. Under these 
 circumstances, I can no longer think of 
 it ; but you shall not have to account 
 to Mr. Morizot for your refusal ; / now 
 withdraw my pretensions, and when I 
 reach home, I will write to him on the 
 subject." 
 
 So saying, he rose, looked for his hat, 
 which on such occasions is never to be 
 found immediately, and was preparing 
 to leave the room, when Esther's voice 
 arrested his steps. 
 
 " Mr. Chevillard !" cried she, in ac- 
 cents which expressed the affection she 
 had conceived for him. 
 
 " No, no !" replied the lover, again
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OR, 
 
 turning to withdraw; " I am the source 
 of trouble to you ; we had better part." 
 
 " Come now, let us have done with 
 this comedy," interposed Legros, taking 
 him by the arm, and forcing him into 
 the seat he had quitted. " It was only 
 a whim of Esther's ; I was sure that 
 when I showed her the consequences of 
 her conduct, she would be more tract- 
 able, for she loves you at bottom." 
 
 " But how can I have displeased her," 
 said Chevillard, dolefully, " that she 
 should so suddenly wish to break off an 
 alliance which appeared to be quite de- 
 cided :" 
 
 " Oh! all nonsense," returned Legros ; 
 " some young girl's fancy ! Perhaps, 
 she thought you might one day reproach 
 her with the slight irregularity of her 
 birth." 
 
 " If my mother has not thought fit to 
 discover herself," replied Esther, with a 
 pride which disavowed the explanation 
 offered by the law-agent, " I know 
 who my father was ; he was the Marquis 
 de Brevannes, and he has not refused 
 me his name." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, " said Chevillard, 
 " when Legros first mentioned the cir- 
 cumstance, I told him that I considered 
 myself honoured by your deigning to 
 accept me." 
 
 " Well now, I tell you what it is," 
 resumed Legros, ready to give another 
 turn to the strange freak of his fair 
 friend ; " I think, between ourselves, 
 you know, that Esther is less reasonable 
 than you are. She doesn't fancy her 
 husband's being sent off so soon after 
 the wedding, and I dare say she has 
 had some words with her guardian on 
 the subject, and has threatened to 
 break off the marriage. Women are 
 like that ; they would rather give up a 
 thing than not have it just as they 
 please." 
 
 " If it indeed be so," cried the de- 
 lighted lover, " I must scold her for her 
 want of fortitude ; but, I cannot be 
 angry at her taking my interests to 
 heart, and I love her the better for it, if 
 that be possible." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Chevillard, love me," said 
 the young girl, in a tone of deep so- 
 lemnity and feeling, " for I also love 
 you ; do not wonder at my frankness in 
 telling you so. Perhaps it would have 
 been better if we had never met." 
 
 " Ah!" interrupted Chevillard; "why 
 that odious idea ?" 
 
 " I will not recur to it again," replied 
 Esther ; " I think that love may indeed 
 compensate for all my deficiencies ; and 
 
 I now, before God, take the solemn en- 
 gagement, that from this day forward, I 
 will live but for your happiness, and 
 will be always the wife you hoped to 
 find in me." 
 
 " Well, now !" said Legros ; " that 
 is something like." 
 
 " Yes, sir," continued the young girl, 
 her beautiful countenance radiant with 
 expression, " I know what I am saying; 
 every day of my life shall be devoted to 
 deserve my husband's love." 
 
 " You see, my dear son-in-law," said 
 Madame de Saint-Martin, " her young 
 head is full of romance, as I told you 
 before." 
 
 But Chevillard heard her not. He 
 had seized the hands of this strange 
 girl, and covered them with kisses and 
 tears. " Esther ! my beloved ! my 
 wife !" were the only words he could 
 find to express his emotion. 
 
 " Well !" said the law-agent ; " as 
 we are now all of one mind, do just 
 oblige me by looking at my purchases." 
 
 " I am too agitated," replied Esther ; 
 " Mr. Chevillard will excuse my leaving 
 him alone with you. To-morrow !" 
 added she, extending her hand to her 
 lover. 
 
 Chevillard made no attempt to detain 
 her ; he could comprehend that religion 
 of the heart, which seeks solitude to 
 muse over a beloved object, and he 
 would not have contemplated with more 
 ecstatic rapture, an angel who had 
 quitted him to return to heaven. 
 
 After Esther had retired, he remained 
 for a few moments to listen to Madame 
 de Saint-Martin's account of a conver- 
 sation which had passed between Mori- 
 zot and his ward, in which, as Legros 
 had before stated, the latter had warmly 
 protested against her husband's banish- 
 ment ; then, after receiving the thanks 
 of the good lady, for the handsome pre- 
 sent that Legros had just delivered to 
 her, lie took his leave. It was still 
 early in the evening ; but he too felt the 
 want of solitude, to recover from the 
 agitation occasioned by the varied emo- 
 tions of the last few hours. 
 
 Lovers, in the words of an old comedy, 
 are eccentric animals ; so it was nothing 
 surprising, that Chevillard should re- 
 main a full quarter of an hour outside 
 the house, gazing at the light which 
 shone from the window of the chamber 
 where Esther was perhaps at that mo- 
 ment thinking of him. He did not con- 
 template it with the less delight, because 
 he remembered, that on the morrow that 
 chamber would be open to him. During
 
 THE MYSTEKY OF CKIME. 
 
 55 
 
 this kind of vigil, as it would have been 
 called in the days of chivalry, he re- 
 flected too on the singular scene which 
 had taken place ; and the conclusion to 
 which he came, after considering all the 
 circumstances, was not exactly such as 
 Madame de Saint-Martin might have 
 wished. He did not think that Esther 
 was a fanciful and romantic girl, as that 
 good lady continually insinuated ; but 
 he suspected that she paid dearly for 
 the protection of those to whom her 
 childhood had been abandoned, and he 
 resolved to requite the affection of which 
 she had given him such decided proofs, 
 by making her happiness the study of 
 his life. 
 
 CHAPTER XIH. 
 
 THE next morning the morning of 
 his wedding day when Chevillard 
 awoke in the room which he was going 
 to leave for ever, a strange feeling of 
 sadness stole over him. When we are 
 about to bid an eternal farewell to scenes 
 long familiar to us, notwithstanding the 
 happy prospects which may await us 
 elsewhere, our heart swells with painful 
 emotions ; and so it was, that, whilst 
 dressing for the ceremony, Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau's* former clerk thought of the 
 years he had passed in that pleasant 
 nook, and the many agreeable associations 
 connected with it. He could not but 
 confess, that if this long period of his 
 life had not been marked by great joys 
 or brilliant successes, yet it had been 
 exempt from bitter cares and serious 
 misfortunes. 
 
 The two young men, who were to act 
 as his witnesses, arrived soon after, and 
 their presence diverted him from his 
 melancholy thoughts ; and on reaching 
 the Allee des Veuves, they found Mori- 
 zot, Legros, and a friend of the latter, 
 who was to join him as witnesses for 
 Esther, waiting to receive them. In her 
 wedding-dress, the bride shone with 
 such surpassing loveliness, that Che- 
 villard's friends warmly congratulated 
 him on his happiness. Legros was in 
 excellent spirits, and seemed determined 
 to make merry on the occasion ; whilst 
 Madame de Saint-Martin, attired in the 
 height of elegance and fashion, was 
 most agreeably occupied in observing 
 the effect she produced upon the com- 
 pany. Morizot alone was grave and 
 thoughtful ; you might have supposed 
 that he was calculating the chances of 
 some great financial operation. Esther's 
 reception of her bridegroom bore 110 
 
 traces of the singular hesitation she had 
 displayed the night before ; her demean- 
 our was that of a person who knew 
 perfectly well what she was about to 
 do, and felt that she had no cause for 
 regret. 
 
 The wedding-party first proceeded to 
 the mayoralty, and afterwards to the 
 church of St. Peter's at Chaillot, where 
 the young couple received the nuptial 
 benediction, and then returned to break- 
 fast at Madame de Saint-Martin's house. 
 Chevillard's witnesses had been sur- 
 prised ar first, that there were no rela- 
 tions present ; but this singularity was 
 soon explained, when the papers which 
 related to Esther's family connexion 
 were read at the mayoralty. As friends 
 of the bridegroom, they were not dis- 
 pleased to find that there was some 
 alloy in the almost marvellous good 
 fortune of their former comrade. They 
 likewise commented in their own way 
 upon the absence of Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau ; and Morizot's splendid equipage, 
 which conveyed the bride, gave rise to 
 some whispered remarks of very strange 
 import, to say the least of them. 
 
 But there was something gloomy 
 about the whole affair ; the guests, few 
 in number, and for the most part 
 strangers to each other, had met pro- 
 bably for the first and last time in their 
 lives, and the breakfast passed off as 
 heavily as might have been expected. 
 Morizot, who was beyond a.11 doubt the 
 person of most consequence present, did 
 not make the slightest effort to set the 
 company at ease, and exhibited a 
 haughty reserve and absence of mind, 
 calculated to repress any attempt at 
 gaiety and animation. 
 
 The only one of the guests that seemed 
 to enjoy himself, was the friend Legros 
 had brought ; and he did such honour 
 to the banquet, that, towards the end, 
 serious apprehensions were entertained 
 that he would not be able to rise from 
 table. He gave himself out for one of 
 the heroes of the famous thirty-second 
 demi-brigade, and told terrible long 
 stories of his campaigns and exploits ; 
 and when they adjoxuned to the draw- 
 ing-room for coffee, he had reached such 
 a state of elevation, that he insisted on 
 kissing Madame de Saint-Martin, and 
 even forgot himself so far, as to slap the 
 commissary on the stomach, and call 
 him Father Morizot. 
 
 Legros was at length obliged to carry 
 off this noisy guest, and Morizot ordered 
 his carriage soon after ; but before he 
 left, he conversed for a few moments in
 
 56 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; Oil, 
 
 private with the lady of the house. 
 His departure was almost immediately 
 followed by that of Chevillard's two 
 friends, and the young couple found 
 themselves, to their great satisfaction, 
 alone, or at least with no one but Ma- 
 dame de Saint-Martin to bear them 
 company. After a conversation of two 
 hours' duration, in the course of which 
 the most tender sentiments were mu- 
 tually expressed, that worthy matron, 
 who retained all the coolness and autho- 
 rity of an actual mother-in-law, told 
 Chevillard that he had been billing and 
 cooing quite long enough, and that as 
 he was to remain in the house until the 
 time appointed for his journey, he had 
 better see to having his effects brought 
 from his former residence. It would 
 have been contrary to all propriety, to 
 have removed these before the ceremony 
 was actually performed. 
 
 This was sensible advice, and although 
 it dragged the enraptured husband from 
 the seventh heaven to the level of most 
 terribly prosaic details, he could not 
 consistently neglect it. Tearing himself 
 with the greatest reluctance from the 
 society of his beloved Esther, he ten- 
 derly embraced her, and returned to 
 spenO the rest of the '^ay in his room, 
 ! of the Quartier Saint-Denis. Though 
 I he made all possible haste with his 
 arrangements, it was nearly six o'clock 
 before he arrived with bag and baggage, 
 to take possession of his new dwelling. 
 It had been agreed that Legros and 
 Morizot should come back to dinner at 
 Madame de Saint-Martin's, and that, to 
 pass away the evening, the whole party- 
 should pay a visit to the opera. Legros 
 was punctual, but Morizot did not make 
 his appearance at the appointed time, 
 and at length it grew so late, that they 
 were induced to sit down to table with- 
 out him. 
 
 In the middle of dinner, or rather of 
 supper, for it was now near upon nine 
 o'clock, the commissary arrived ; but 
 he wore so reserved and sombre an 
 aspect, that it was easy to see he had 
 been detained on unpleasant business. 
 He seated himself, however, and ad- 
 dressing Chevillard : " My dear sir," 
 said he, " I have bad news "for you, and 
 I much fear you will be annoyed at 
 what I am going to communicate." 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked the 
 husband, quickly. 
 
 " I have just left the First-Consul, 
 who sent for me in the course of the 
 day. He wished to complain of the 
 manner in which the business of my 
 
 department is conducted at Rochefort, 
 and intimated that I must put it on 
 another footing, with as little delay as 
 possible." 
 
 " Ah ! Rochefort ?" said Legros ; 
 " that is where you are going to send 
 Chevillard." 
 
 " Exactly so," replied the other ; 
 " whilst we were arranging this mar- 
 riage, the situation I destine to Mr. 
 Chevillard, has remained open ; com- 
 plaints have been sent to Paris, and 
 now not a moment is to be lost to pre- 
 vent the consequences." 
 
 " Alas !" sighed poor Chevillard ; 
 " this is a fresh breach you wish to 
 make in my honeymoon ; but I must 
 not be unreasonable. When do you 
 wish me to leave ? I am at your dis- 
 posal." 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, as soon as pos- 
 sible," replied Morizot ; " every hour's 
 delay aggravates the evil." 
 
 " Well ! suppose I set out on the 
 morning of the day after to-morrow ?" 
 
 " The day after to-morrow !" repeated 
 the commissar}^ ; " I would go myself, 
 rather than wait so long." 
 
 "To-morrow then:'* asked the dole- 
 ful husband. 
 
 " No, my dear sir, you must make up 
 your mind to go this evening, at once. 
 In half-an-hour a post-chaise will be at 
 the door, for by the stage you would not 
 arrive in time." 
 
 " Confound it!" said Legros ; "this is 
 deucedly severe !" 
 
 " So severe," returned Chevillard, 
 " that I cannot agree to it." 
 
 "You are pleased to observe !" de- 
 manded Morizot, haughtily. 
 
 " I say, that it is impossible for me to 
 leave this evening ; and that it is cruelty 
 to expect it." 
 
 " Business before pleasure, sir ; and 
 when I tell you, that there is an urgent 
 
 necessity for the step " 
 
 " I allow that to be the case ; but 
 when I consent to leave my wife to- 
 morrow, instead of remaining with her 
 three or four days, according to the ori- 
 ginal agreement, I think the sacrifice is 
 sufficiently great, and that no more 
 should be demanded from me." 
 
 " And where do you expect this re- 
 sistance will lead you?" observed Mo- 
 rizot, with much asperity ; " you have 
 your way to make, and do you imagine 
 that this is a favourable beginning ?" 
 
 "By six to-morrow morning, if it is 
 necessary, I will be upon the road ; but 
 to leave sooner is out of my power, and 
 I will not do it."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CKIMK. 
 
 57 
 
 " So, this is my reward for so easily 
 consenting to give you Esther !" angrily 
 exclaimed the commissary ; " I must 
 thank Legros for introducing you in this 
 house." 
 
 " Come, come, be calm," interposed 
 the law-agent ; " I can put myself in 
 the place of this poor fellow, and con- 
 ceive it is Quite natural he should make 
 a face at this bitter pill. But he will 
 hear reason ; and besides, he is a man 
 of honour, and when you explain to him 
 that a prolonged absence on his part 
 will expose you not only to the re- 
 proaches of the First- Consul, but to 
 
 heavy losses, I know he will call up all 
 his fortitude, and will sacrifice his feel- 
 ings to his duty." 
 
 Chevillard was an upright and sensi- 
 tive young man ; the consideration of 
 the serious injury he might occasion to 
 the commissary made a strong impres- 
 sion on him, and he was yielding in his 
 resolution not to go, when Esther ma- 
 naged, unseen by the others, to make a 
 sign entreating him to hold iirm, and 
 persevere in his original intention. There 
 was certainly something very indecorous 
 in the interference of a young girl on 
 such an occasion, to prevent her husband
 
 -58 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 from leaving her on the wedding-night, 
 but this did not occur to Chevillard, and, 
 struck with the proof of attachment thus 
 given him by his fair bride : " No, de- 
 cidedly," exclaimed he, " I cannot make 
 up my mind to pass this night on the 
 high-road ; you may call me supersti- 
 tious, if you will, but it seems to me that 
 it would be a bad omen, and I really 
 cannot do it." 
 
 " Do you consider, sir," said Morizot, 
 " that your dismissal will be the result 
 of this strange conduct?" 
 
 Before Chevillard replied, he looked 
 at his wife, and her eyes telling him 
 plainly not to regard this threat : " I 
 am much grieved," said he, " that you 
 should take up matters thus, but the 
 manner in which our intercourse hag 
 begun, will soften the regret I feel at 
 its cessation." 
 
 Esther made him a sign of approval, 
 but this time it was observed by Morizot, 
 who exclaimed : " Why, God forgive 
 me, Esther, I do believe you approve 
 of your husband's inexplicable beha- 
 viour !" 
 
 " Indeed, sir," replied the youthful 
 bride, " how can I see with regret, that 
 he is sorry to leave me ?" 
 
 " These are fine sentiments !" re- 
 turned the commissary, with bitter 
 irony ; " and I suppose love will defray 
 the expenses of a house and establish- 
 ment?" 
 
 " It is true," said Esther, " my hus- 
 band has taken me without a portion ; 
 but if the promises that have been made 
 to him are not realised, he is young, in- 
 telligent, and resolute, and can support 
 his wife, who will work with him, if it 
 be necessary." 
 
 " What ingratitude ! Is it possible 
 this is said to me !" cried Morizot, strik- 
 ing the table with his glass, which was 
 shivered to atoms. 
 
 Legros, who took things more coolly, 
 now again interposed : " Well, my dear 
 young lady," said he, "if you reckon 
 upon your exertions for your support, I 
 can tell you beforehand, that your posi- 
 tion will not be a very brilliant one ; for 
 with your tastes and habits, you are fit 
 for nothing but to do the honours grace- 
 fully in a drawing-room." 
 
 At this point of the conversation, 
 which became every moment more bitter, 
 the noise of wheels and the loud crack- 
 ing of a postilion's whip were heard out- 
 side. Morizot rose ; and the rest of the 
 party having followed his example, he 
 turned to Chevillard, and said with great 
 solemnitv : "You see, sir, I had counted 
 
 implicitly upon you. Be good enough 
 to reflect for a moment ; the case stands 
 thus : a rupture must ensue between us, 
 or we begin from this day a friendly 
 intercourse, which for you will lead to 
 fortune. In half an hour, just time to 
 get ready a portmanteau, you must be 
 on the road, or all is at an end between 
 us." 
 
 " Come, summon courage and reason 
 to your aid," said Legros, taking poor 
 Chevillard by the hand, and exhorting 
 him to submit. 
 
 " Mr. Morizot will remember your 
 giving way to his wishes," added Ma- 
 dame de Saint-Martin, putting in her 
 word, "and I dare say he will grant 
 you leave of absence in a short time." 
 
 " No, I cannot consent," replied Che- 
 rillard, for Esther's silence appeared to 
 urge him to persist in his resolution. 
 
 " Very well, sir ! very well !" cried 
 Morizot, pale with rage ; " we shall see 
 at last what this unjustifiable conduct 
 will lead to. I must go in your place ; 
 that alone may tell you of what impor- 
 tance it is ; but, by heavens ! you shall 
 pay for this." 
 
 " Really, Chevillard," said Legros, 
 with an appearance of deep feeling, 
 " after all I have done for you, your 
 conduct is not noble ; I should never 
 have believed it of you." 
 
 The kind feelings of the poor young 
 man were so touched by this appeal, that 
 he would perhaps have yielded, if Esther 
 had not contrived to whisper : " Stay !" 
 
 Morizot had already reached the door ; 
 but, pausing before he went out, he 
 turned round, again approached Chevil- 
 lard, and pressing his arm with violence, 
 whilst his eyes flashed fire, exclaimed : 
 " For the last time, sir, I ask if you in- 
 tend to play the part of a dishonest 
 man, and violate all your engagements ?" 
 
 " It is you, sir, who violate yours !" 
 replied Chevillard, incensed by these 
 violent proceedings; "I was to remain 
 here for three days after my marriage." 
 
 " It is impossible to be more abomi- 
 nably duped than I have been !" cried 
 the commissary ; " but remember, sir, 
 you have in me a mortal enemy !" 
 
 He rushed furiously from the room ; 
 but he did not apparently leave the 
 house at that instant, for no noise of 
 wheels was audible. Though freed from 
 this violent adversary, poor Chevillard 
 was not left in peace. Legros and Ma- 
 dame de Saint-Martin overwhelmed him 
 with reproaches ; especially the latter, 
 who, in the fervour of her indignation, 
 even declared that the hospitality she
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 had offered to the young couple was 
 conditional on the agreement which had 
 been so dishonourably broken, and that 
 she now considered herself' bound by no 
 engagement. But Chevillard was not 
 staggered by this threat, and, losing all 
 patience, replied, that this was far from 
 being disagreeable to him, and if she 
 would have the goodness to send for a 
 coach, he was ready to take away his 
 wife and their effects, and he doubted 
 not it would be a much better arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 Seeing the turn that tilings were now 
 taking, Legros went over to the other 
 side, and expostulated with Madame de 
 Saint-Martin, telling her that she was 
 out of her senses, and altogether wanting 
 in discretion. The unlucky matron, not 
 knowing how to retrace her steps, had 
 no other resource but that to which all 
 would fly when in a dilemma ; sinking 
 into a chair, she fainted away, and this 
 real or fictitious swoon gave Legros an 
 opportunity to leave the room, under 
 the pretext of seeking assistance for her. 
 
 The servant entered soon after, and 
 while she, with Chevillard and Esther, 
 was busied about her mistress, the post- 
 chaise was heard to drive rapidly away. 
 When Legros returned, he joined his 
 efforts to those of the rest of the party, 
 and at length the lady was pleased to 
 recover. When they were able to re- 
 sume the conversation which had been 
 so tragically interrupted, the law- agent 
 announced, that Morizot had remained 
 for a short time at the door, to give Che- 
 villard an opportunity to repent, and 
 that he had finally begun to listen to 
 reason. " I have succeeded," continued 
 Legros, " in making him confess, that 
 the trial he wished to impose on our 
 young friend was rather too severe, and 
 I have some hope he may yet relent. 
 At all events, he quite disapproved of 
 the words " 
 
 " Which were not from my heart !" 
 interrupted Madame de Saint-Martin, 
 in most theatrical style. " But, cruel 
 children, how can you be so unreason- 
 able ?" 
 
 "Pray calm yourself, madam; all 
 will be well," said Chevillard, good- 
 naturedly. 
 
 " I think so too," contiiuied Legros ; 
 " I will at once go to Morizot, and pre- 
 vent him in the first place from foolishly 
 undertaking this journey, and I trust I 
 shall persuade him to accord an amica- 
 ble delay till to-morrow morning." 
 
 He accordingly went out, and was 
 not long before he returned with articles 
 
 of pacification. When all these comings 
 and goings were at an end, it was about 
 eleven o'clock, and Legros began to 
 complain of the excessive coldness of the 
 weather. 
 
 " I do not know if you are like me," 
 he observed, " but I think it is bitterly 
 cold this evening ; I got quite numbed 
 in the cab which brought me from Mo- 
 rizot's, and it would be very amiable in 
 you to give us a glass of mulled wine." 
 
 "Willingly," replied the lady of the 
 house ; and she rang for the servant, to 
 give the necessary orders. 
 
 " If you will allow me," said the law- 
 agent, "I will prepare it myself; the 
 girl understands nothing about it." 
 
 With these words, he left the room ; 
 and the servant soon after came in to 
 say, that Mr. Legros had asked for Bor- 
 deaux. 
 
 " Ah ! how tiresome it is !" cried Ma- 
 dame de Saint-Martin ; " now I must go 
 down to the cellar ; he can do nothing 
 without such a fuss." 
 
 " Will you give me the keys, ma'am ?" 
 
 " No, I will go myself," replied the 
 lady, rising. 
 
 The young people found themselves 
 alone for the first time. Chevillard 
 drew nearer to Esther, who was pale 
 and agitated ; after a momentary pause, 
 he said : " How kind you are to en- 
 courage me to stay !" 
 
 " It was my duty," replied the young 
 girl, much embarrassed, " though my 
 conduct must have appeared to you very 
 strange." 
 
 " Strange! no," exclaimed Chevillard ; 
 " on the contrary, I am very grateful to 
 you for this ; it is a proof that you love 
 me a little." 
 
 Before they had time to say anything 
 more, Madame de Saint-Martin, who 
 must have been extremely quick in her 
 movements, appeared at the door of the 
 saloon, and, addressing her adopted 
 daughter : " Esther," said she, " come 
 with me." 
 
 Esther obeyed, and Chevillard, in- 
 stinctively certain that their conference 
 related to him, followed the two women 
 on tiptoe ; they Avent up to the bride's 
 room, and he entered it almost at the 
 same moment. When she saw him 
 penetrate into this sanctuary, Madame 
 de Saint-Martin exclaimed against his 
 proceedings, as absurd and indecorous 
 to the last degree ; but the bridegroom 
 did not care for anything she could say. 
 Then begun a little struggle, conducted 
 however with all due courtesy, between 
 them ; the mother-in-law tried to turn
 
 60 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 out the son-in-law, and the latter did 
 his best to remain; until at last it 
 chanced, that the lady "was so near the 
 entrance, that with a very gentle push 
 she found herself in the passage, and 
 the door was instantly closed against 
 her. For a few moments, she knocked 
 loudly with feet and hands, but finding 
 it was in vain, she hastened to Legros 
 for assistance. He had by this time 
 finished his cookery, and did not appear 
 so much affected by the incident as she 
 had expected he would be. He poured 
 the contents of a silver saucepan into a 
 glass, and merely said to the servant : 
 " Here, take this up to the bridegroom 
 from me, and tell him to drink to my 
 health." 
 
 The servant knocked at the door much 
 more discreetly than her mistress had 
 done, and her voice being soon recog- 
 nised, Legros' offering was received into 
 the fortress without any difficulty. The 
 last named personage had apparently 
 forgotten the desire he had expressed 
 for mulled wine, as he kept none of the 
 mixture for himself: he remained for a 
 short time in close conference with 
 Madame de Saint-Martin ; then bidding 
 her good night, the most profound quiet 
 soon reigned throughout the house. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IT might be about eight o'clock the 
 next morning, and at that season of the 
 year as yet scarcely daylight, when Le- 
 gros stopped in a hackney-coach at the 
 door of the well-known house. He did 
 not ask for Madame de Saint-Martin, 
 who was still in bed, but walked up 
 stairs to the chamber of the newly mar- 
 ried pair, and was admitted the instant 
 he named himself. 
 
 Chevillard was busied with a some- 
 what prosaic occupation ; he was kneel- 
 ing before a portmanteau, filling it with 
 necessaries for his journey ; but still 
 his whole appearance had in it some- 
 thing of the brilliant and happy bride- 
 groom, who rises joyously from the 
 nuptial couch. The fair bride, fresh 
 and blooming as a rose at early dawn, 
 and attired in an elegant morning dress, 
 which set off her beauty to the greatest 
 advantage, was cheerfully assisting her 
 husband in his preparations. The most 
 affectionate confidence appeared to sub- 
 sist between them ; it was easy to see, 
 that their attachment had greatly in- 
 creased in a short time. 
 
 "Ah! is it you, Mr. Joker r" said 
 Chevillard, as Legros entered. 
 
 " How do you mean ? What joke r" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you who send people 
 draughts spiced with ginger and cinna- 
 mon." 
 
 ' " Oh ! by the by," said Legros, as if 
 he just remembered the circumstance ; 
 " how did you like the cordial I pre- 
 pared :" 
 
 "Do you think I drink such stuff?" 
 returned the other ; "I threw your cor- 
 dial out of the window, its fumes were 
 enough to stifle one." 
 
 " You are hard to please," replied the 
 law-agent, looking rather disappointed. 
 " But," continued he, " to talk of more 
 serious matters, when do you think of 
 starting r" 
 
 " You see, I am getting ready " 
 
 " You do right ; for Morizot sent for 
 me this morning, and we had a stormy 
 debate about you ; he cannot stomach 
 the resistance you opposed yesterday to 
 his wishes. However, he has sent your 
 credentials and these written instruc- 
 tions, but you will have great difficulty 
 in regaining his confidence, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 " Pshaw !" said Chevillard ; " Esther 
 will appease him, and you may be sure 
 I shall set to work in famous style, 
 when I once get there. Well," con- 
 tinued he, " is the post-chaise to take 
 me up here :" 
 
 " No," replied the laAv-agent ; " one 
 of Morizot's secretaries was sent on in 
 the post-chaise, yesterday evening, to 
 keep things quiet till you arrive. A 
 place has been taken for you in the 
 stage, which starts in half-an-hour, and 
 I have promised not to leave you till I 
 saw you fairly off." 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow, my packing 
 is finished," said Chevillard, submis- 
 sively ; " I have only to kiss my poor 
 little wife, and then I follow you." 
 
 " My love," said Esther, " you had 
 better take something before you leave." 
 
 " No," answered the doleful husband, 
 " it would be impossible ; my heart is 
 too full." 
 
 " Come, come, time is going on," ob- 
 served Legros ; "let us make an end of 
 this." 
 
 Esther turned away to conceal the 
 tears that sprung to her eyes, and Che- 
 villard, perceiving this, put his arm 
 tenderly around her, saying: "Take 
 courage, dearest Esther ; our separation 
 will not be for long." 
 
 The young creature wept for a mo- 
 ment in'silence, her face bent down upon 
 her husband's shoulder; but suddenly 
 looking up with great vivacity of ex-
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 01 
 
 pression : " Oh, my love !" cried she, 
 sobbing, " pray take me with you." 
 
 " Esther !" said Legros, in a severe 
 tone, " this is too much ; it appears 
 that you wish to break through all your 
 engagements with your guardian." 
 
 " Do not speak so harshly to her," 
 said Chevillard ; " her desire is very 
 natural. And you, dear Esther, be 
 reasonable ; you know we must make 
 some sacrifices for the future ; but we 
 shall soon meet again." 
 
 Esther shook her head doubtfully. 
 
 " Yes, certainly," continued Chevil- 
 lard; " it was agreed, that as soon as I 
 got things a little in order " 
 
 " Chevillard, we shall lose the stage," 
 interrupted Legros. The poor fellow 
 pressed his wife once more to his heart, 
 and hastened to collect together his 
 packages ; but in his agitation he would 
 have forgotten half of them, had it not 
 been for Legros' officious zeal. At 
 length all was ready, and Chevillard 
 about to step into the coach, when he 
 remembered he had not taken leave of 
 Madame de Saint-Martin. He wished 
 to repair this negligence, but Legros 
 stopped him, saying : " It is no matter, 
 she is not yet up ; your wife will make 
 your apologies to her." 
 
 The impatient law-agent did not gain 
 much by this move ; for the enamoured 
 pair had still a thousand things to say, 
 and he had almost recourse to force, to 
 tear them away from each other. Esther 
 stood at the door, and followed with 
 her eyes the coach which carried away 
 her husband, until it was lost to sight ; 
 then she went sadly to her room, and 
 gave way to the most painful reflec- 
 tions. 
 
 * * * 
 
 She had remained thus for nearly an 
 hour, when some one knocked impera- 
 tively at the door. 
 
 *' Who is there ?" she asked. 
 
 " I," roughly answered a voice, which 
 she knew to be that of Morizot. 
 
 " If you will go down into the draw- 
 ing-room, I will be with you in. a mo- 
 ment," said the young wife. 
 
 " Open the door," replied Morizot, in 
 a tone of feverish impatience ; and he 
 shook it violently, as if to enforce his 
 demand. 
 
 Esther wrapped herself hastily in a 
 large shawl, and reluctantly admitted 
 this imperious visitor, who entered with 
 his hat on, saying in a menacing manner : 
 " You will probably explain to me what 
 you mean bv these novel proceedings 
 towards me ?*' 
 
 " I asked you to go into the drawing- 
 room," replied Esther, " because this 
 room is still in confusion " 
 
 " Yes, a sweet confusion," said Mori- 
 /ot, with marked emphasis ; " I do not 
 wonder that you feel somewhat ashamed 
 in my presence." 
 
 " I do not understand you," replied 
 the young lady, with much dignity. 
 
 " Oh ! I suppose not ; you are inno- 
 cence itself, and practise the greatest 
 duplicity without being conscious of it !" 
 
 " Sir, I have not been guilty of any 
 duplicity ; and I intimated to you last 
 evening, as clearly as possible, that I 
 meant to be in very earnest my hus- 
 band's wife." 
 
 " Indeed, I saw that well enough ! 
 It seems that this fellow, with his youth 
 and personal attractions, has had a 
 great effect on your imagination. You 
 have done your best to gratify your 
 liking." 
 
 " The grossness of your language," 
 returned Esther, " would authorise me 
 to break off this interview upon the in- 
 stant ; but as, after what has passed be- 
 tween us, an explanation must sooner 
 or later take place, it is as well it should 
 be now. I will speak to you with the 
 utmost frankness, and I trust this will 
 preclude all further reproaches of du- 
 plicity." 
 
 " I listen, madam," said Morizot, in 
 an abrupt tone, lolling insolently in an 
 arm-chair, into which he had thrown 
 himself. 
 
 " You wished this marriage to take 
 place," continued Esther ; ' you ar- 
 ranged it by means of your confidential 
 agent, Mr. Legros. In all this, I have 
 been completely passive, and have 
 followed your will." 
 
 " Say rather your own interest," re- 
 plied the commissary, sternly. " When, 
 not long since, you vaguely suspected 
 you were likely to become a mother, you 
 wearied me with your complaints and 
 tears ; you were inconsolable. Being 
 married, I could do nothing in such a 
 crisis ; it was necessary to hit upon 
 some such plan." 
 
 " My conscience, too late awakened 
 to a sense of the deplorable course 
 forced upon my youth and inexperience, 
 pointed out another remedy ; you would 
 have honoured us both by allowing me 
 to prefer it." 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Morizot, with an 
 impatient gesture ; " to separate from 
 you ! to let you enter a convent ! Was 
 such a thing possible? do you know 
 what you asked r"
 
 68 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OK, 
 
 " And so," resumed Esther, " a hus- 
 band was presented to me. He was in- 
 troduced by Mr. Legros, he had been 
 picked up in a gambling-house, he was 
 doubtless fit to play the disgraceful 
 part assigned to him. I was habituated 
 to do wrong under your guidance, and 
 that of the woman who helped you to 
 ruin me ; I let things take their course, 
 and offered no opposition ; why should 
 I, a poor, lost, degraded girl, care what 
 was to be my future destiny ?" 
 
 " It would have been all very well, if 
 you had continued so to the end ; but 
 your indifference was followed by I 
 know not what impertinent fancy." ' 
 
 " Sir, for this you must blame your 
 unskilful agent. You required a liber- 
 tine : Mr. Legros, who does not usually 
 make these mistakes, was unfortunate 
 enough to meet with an honest man 
 
 " Say, rather, a fool, whose brain has 
 been turned by your charms, and there- 
 fore he has flattered you in a manner no 
 woman's vanity can resist." 
 
 "You are mistaken; in the short 
 time I have had to become acquainted 
 with the man you destined for my hus- 
 band, I discovered in him many estima- 
 ble qualities, which first made a favour- 
 able impression on me ; and then his 
 love was sincere, disinterested ; it seemed 
 to restore me to virtue." 
 
 " For which reason, you made him 
 your dupe. A singular mode of amend- 
 ment, truly !" 
 
 " It is surely not for you, sir, to make 
 me this reproach, though my consci- 
 ence has upbraided me far more keenly 
 than you can do. After many struggles, 
 on the evening before the ceremony, I 
 was about to confess all, and had it -not 
 been for the interference of your confi- 
 dants, I " 
 
 " Yes, they told me of that scene," 
 replied the commissary, contemptuously; 
 " and I know, that to gild the pill for 
 the poor devil, you, in theatrical style, 
 swore to him a boundless and eternal 
 love!" 
 
 " Theatrical or not," courageously 
 returned Esther, " I took that engage- 
 ment, and I will keep it." 
 
 " Well ! but, allow me, my charming 
 creature ; I don't exactly see what be- 
 comes of me in this felicitous arrange- 
 ment," said Morizot, insolently. 
 
 " You, sir !" replied the young wife, 
 in a tone between entreaty and com- 
 mand ; " after leading me astray, you 
 cannot wish to oppose yourself to my 
 living like an honest woman ; you surely 
 
 will keep the promises you have made 
 this young man, and not suffer every- 
 thing in the affair to prove a decep- 
 tion ':" 
 
 " That is all excellently arranged," 
 returned Morizot ; " only your promises 
 are not quite just ; you think I love you 
 with a calm affection, and that nothing 
 would be easier than for me to renounce 
 you." 
 
 " Sir, when you gave me to another, 
 you could not but understand it thus." 
 
 " You do not believe a word of what 
 you are saying. You know I love you 
 madly, and you must have very little 
 acquaintance with the human heart, not 
 to know also, that the obstacle which 
 impedes my passion, is of a nature to 
 inflame and augment it still more." 
 
 " Oh! your words are horrible," said 
 Esther, with disgust. 
 
 " Come, girl !" continued Morizot, 
 rising ; " I certainly ought to resent the 
 trick you played me yesterday ; but 
 you look so beautiful this morning, I 
 must pardon you, whether or no." 
 
 " Leave me, sir !" cried his victim, 
 retreating in alarm ; and finding that 
 he continued to advance, she ran to- 
 wards the door, exclaiming : " If you 
 come a step nearer, I AvUl leave the 
 room." 
 
 " The deuce !" said Morizot ; " de- 
 cidedly we are acting Lucretia ; but, my 
 pretty love, you must learn to know, 
 that all these grimaces are as useless as 
 they are ridiculous." 
 
 " I tell you, sir, I am no longer the 
 lost creature of whom you disposed at 
 pleasure ; yesterday, I swore before 
 God, to be faithful to my husband, and 
 nothing shall make me break my vow." 
 
 "But have you considered, foolish 
 girl, that your destiny is in my hands ? 
 If, to-morrow, I were to withdraw my 
 protection from the poor devil I have 
 taken into my service, nothing but 
 poverty awaits you." 
 
 " Well, sir, I shall accept it as an 
 expiation." 
 
 " Ah, you are very much mistaken ; 
 you could not support indigence for a 
 single week. Accustomed to ease and 
 luxury, believe me, you would soon be 
 tired of your stern virtue ; and besides, 
 remember, that a word whispered in 
 your husband's ear, may dash down at 
 one blow his dream of happiness, and 
 cause him to regard you with scorn and 
 contempt." 
 
 " If you did so infamous a thing," 
 replied Esther, greatly excited, " I 
 would kill myself. But take care ; my
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 husband would have a terrible reckon- 
 ing to demand !" 
 
 " Very well, madam !" said Morizot, 
 rather disturbed at this threat. ' ' Such 
 then is the reward of all my kindness to 
 you !" 
 
 "What kindness?" cried Esther; 
 " my youth confided to the care of a 
 worthless woman, that you might tri- 
 umph the more easily over my inno- 
 cence!" 
 
 " Enough !" said Morizot ; " this 
 wedding has turned your brain, and I 
 must let your virtuous fire cool down a 
 little. I will see you again in the even- 
 ing, and then, more calm and composed, 
 you will probably listen to reason. But 
 remember one thing ; I will not be 
 duped with impunity, and I would not 
 advise any one to make me his enemy." 
 
 These words were pronounced with 
 apparent calmness, but there was some- 
 thing so hideously menacing in the ex- 
 pression of Morizot' s countenance, that 
 poor Esther was filled with terror. She 
 did not however seek to detain him, and 
 as soon as he had left the room, she ran 
 to bolt the door, for it seemed to her she 
 was no longer in safety in that house. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 GLOOMY and perplexed were Esther's 
 reflections after the interview we Lave 
 just related. One sad truth was but 
 too apparent : she found, that once in 
 the path of evil, it is not, as might be 
 thought, always at our option to return, 
 for insurmountable obstacles frequently 
 force us back into the track we may 
 have firmly resolved to abandon. And, 
 besides, it must be owned, that the 
 source of the virtuous determination of 
 this repentant Magdalen was far from 
 being blameless ; it was precisely to the 
 deception practised on the kind-hearted 
 Chevillard, and to which, with good 
 intentions, she had been a party, that 
 she at that moment owed her worst 
 troubles. Unmarried, it would have 
 been easy for her to regain her inde- 
 pendence, by renouncing the comfort- 
 able existence assured to her by Morizot ; 
 but now, to remain faithful to her 
 husband, and at the same time pre- 
 serve the material advantages he had 
 expected from their union, was a matter 
 of impossibility. 
 
 Before this interview with her seducer, 
 Esther had flattered herself with many 
 fond illusions on the subject of con- 
 ciliating these two interests, and the 
 strong attachment she felt for Chevil- 
 
 lard, had contributed to blind her to 
 the perception of the dangers which . 
 menaced her in the future. But her 
 dream of happiness and virtue had 
 been rudely dispelled. The words and 
 well-known character of Morizot al- 
 lowed of no doubt; her favours were 
 to be the price of her husband's pros- 
 perity, and she must perforce choose. 
 In the terrible struggle of conflicting 
 duties she had created for herself, she 
 for a moment deliberated if, by a sort 
 of conjugal heroism, she ought not to 
 submit, provisionally at least, to the 
 horrid alternative of a connexion, upon 
 which all the welfare of her married 
 life depended. But even if her moral 
 sense had not warned her that this was 
 in fact a shameless sophism, so com- 
 plete a revolution had taken place within 
 a short time in the ideas of this poor, 
 fallen creature, who had lived for several 
 years in heedless guilt, that she shud- 
 dered at the bare thought of again 
 entering on a course of profligacy. She 
 looked upon her marriage as a baptism, 
 which had restored to her the robe of 
 innocence, and death itself was less 
 fearful than this fresh pollution. 
 
 After mature consideration, she de- 
 cided that she would try to gain time, and 
 see whether her supplications and tears 
 might not eventually soften Morizot* s 
 heart. If, on the contrary, this bad 
 man continued to claim what he called 
 his rights, she resolved to quit the house, 
 write to her husband to join her, and 
 consult with him on the means of sup- 
 porting themselves, independently of the 
 assistance and protection which were 
 valued at so detestable a price. Having 
 thus made up her mind to the line of 
 conduct she would pursue, when Ma- 
 dame de Saint-Martin came up soon after, 
 and, faithful to the part she had always 
 acted by her, reproached her with absurd 
 prudery, and tried to convince her of 
 the mischievous effects of such conduct, 
 Esther refrained from expressing the 
 contempt with which the abominable 
 zeal and advice of this woman inspired 
 her. Without positively committing 
 herself, she pretended to regret that her 
 first impluse had led her to repulse so 
 harshly Morizot' s advances, and seemed 
 to intimate that her scruples might be 
 conquered, if not too roughly dealt with. 
 It was still early in the day, when 
 Legros again made his appearance in 
 the Allee des Veuves ; he had been to 
 the commissary to inform him of Che- 
 villard' s actual departure, had heard of 
 Esther's contumacy, and being, as we
 
 64 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 have already seen, a skilful meditator, 
 had undertaken to bring her back into 
 what he was pleased to term the right 
 road. He found her apparently much 
 more disposed to err than he had 
 thought, so, instead of remonstrances, he 
 had recourse to felicitations and encou- 
 ragement, and cited twenty examples of 
 husbands, who, to his own knowledge, 
 were deceived like Chevillard by power- 
 ful protectors, whose useful attentions 
 they were frequently the first to en- 
 courage. In the evening came Morizot, 
 as he had threatened ; but, having been 
 informed by his confidants of the more 
 reasonable frame of mind manifested by 
 his victim, and, advised to use gentle 
 means at first, he contented himself with 
 tender attentions, and held in check, for 
 that day at least, his ardent desire for 
 the forbidden fruit. 
 
 But several days passed, and he was 
 no nearer the attainment of his wishes ; 
 he again gave way to violence and 
 threats, and the unhappy Esther was 
 exposed to persecutions which she felt 
 she could not long endure with patience. 
 One evening, when Legros and Morizot 
 had dined at the house, she went up to 
 her room for a few moments, and was 
 surprised by the entrance of the servant, 
 who appeared to have been on the watch 
 to speak with her. This girl was at- 
 tached to Esther, who treated her with 
 gentle kindness ; whereas Madame de 
 Saint-Martin was extremely harsh in 
 her deportment and expressions towards 
 her, and almost impossible to please. 
 
 " Madam," said the servant, " there is 
 a plot against you : Mr. Legros, who sent 
 some drugged wine to Mr. Chevillard 
 on your wedding-day, is going to put 
 something in the tea you take every 
 evening ; so be on your guard." Then, 
 as if afraid of being discovered, the cau- 
 tioner immediately left the room. 
 
 This last blow was decisive ; it was 
 impossible to remain in such a place. 
 Having foreseen the probable occurrence 
 of a similar necessity, the poor thing 
 had already packed up some clothes, 
 and the few valuables she possessed, in- 
 cluding the jewels her husband had pre- 
 sented to her at the time of their mar- 
 riage, and the half of the thousand francs 
 (his sole property!) which he had in- 
 sisted upon sharing with her before he 
 left. She therefore threw a cloak over 
 her shoulders, shaded her face with a 
 deep bonnet and veil, and, taking the 
 parcel in her hand, slipped down stairs, 
 and was out of the house before her per- 
 secutors, still busy with their odious 
 
 design, could be aware of her disappear- 
 ance. When she gained the avenue, the 
 fugitive hesitated for a moment, doubt- 
 ful whether to direct her course towards 
 the Champs-Elysees or the high road to 
 Passy. The last mentioned direction 
 was in point of fact the least secure ; 
 she would have to traverse the most 
 lonely part of that ill-famed and dan- 
 gerous quarter, and was exposed to un- 
 pleasant rencounters. But to her there 
 were no villains more formidable than 
 those from whom she had just escaped, 
 and, by a happy inspiration, she judged 
 that the most unfrequented road was 
 also that by which she was the least 
 likely to be pursued. 
 
 The event justified this prudent fore- 
 sight, for in a very short time she heard, 
 in the direction of the house she had left, 
 loud and animated voices, and presently 
 after the sound of hasty steps testified 
 that search was being made for her ; but 
 instead of approaching nearer, the noise 
 gradually receded, and was at length 
 lost in the distance. Having escaped 
 this danger, the courageous young 
 woman was fortunate enough, soon after 
 leaving the Allee des Veuves, to meet 
 with one of the coaches which then 
 plied between Paris and Versailles, and 
 to find a place in it. This coach set her 
 down at the Quay d'Orsay, at the foot of 
 the Pont-lloyal, where its office was 
 situated. Giving herself out as a lady 
 from Versailles, who had business which 
 would detain her for a week at Paris, 
 Esther enquired of the woman at the 
 office for some respectable house in the 
 neighbourhood, where she might take 
 lodgings. She was directed to one in 
 the Rue de Beaune, kept by very de- 
 cent and worthy people, and was soon 
 installed in a neat apartment. AVhen 
 asked for her name, that it might be in- 
 scribed on the police register, of which 
 the entries -were, at that aera of plots, 
 examined with scrupulous care by 
 the authorities, she gave that of Ma- 
 dame Lefevre, so as to divert the in- 
 quiries which would doubtless be made 
 for her. 
 
 After the extreme resolution she had 
 taken, Esther felt that Morizot would 
 not keep her husband in his situ, iou ; 
 she therefore immediately wrote the 
 following letter : 
 
 " My very dear husband, Most pain- 
 ful events have occurred since your de- 
 parture, but it is useless to detail them 
 here. It is sufficient to say, that I could 
 not decently remain in the house where 
 you left me ; and being detained there
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 almost by force, I was obliged to effect 
 my escape, and take refuge in the place 
 from which I write. Even if I had not 
 the most ardent desire to have yon with 
 me, as my protector and best friend in 
 such trying circumstances, I think it 
 woidd be a loss of time to remain in a 
 situation, of which you will certainly 
 be deprived ere long by a man who has 
 become our mortal enemy. Start, there- 
 fore, as soon as you receive this letter, 
 and come to me without delay. I often 
 ask myself, whether the unfavourable 
 aspect that our affairs have taken from 
 the first, will not make you one day 
 
 repent having taken me as your wife. 
 I am already deeply affected by the mis- 
 fortunes which have overtaken us, and 
 it would be hard indeed if they were to 
 diminish the affection you have shown 
 me until now, and which, I trust, has 
 not found me ungrateful. I look for- 
 ward to our reunion, and in the mean- 
 time, I embrace you tenderly, and am 
 yoxir affectionate wife, 
 
 " ESTHER 
 
 " P. S., My address is Rue de Beaune, 
 No. 11."
 
 G6 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WHEN Chevillard received his wife's 
 .etter, he was not so annoyed as might 
 je imagined ; he thought principally of 
 ;he pleasure of so soon seeing her again. 
 Besides, he was far from satisfied with 
 the situation, in which his supposed 
 patron had placed him. He had been 
 Led to expect that he should be the 
 principal in the office, instead of which 
 he found himself appointed to a subal- 
 tern employment, that in nowise ex- 
 plained the great necessity alleged for 
 his departure. This, together with some 
 obscure hints, dropped by his fellow- 
 clerks, had raised strange doubts in his 
 mind, and he was full of impatience to 
 question his wife, and good friend Le- 
 gros, on the subject, when the letter of 
 the former reached him. The informa- 
 tion it contained solved the mystery he 
 had longed to penetrate, and sure of the 
 love and fidelity of Esther, he at first 
 scarcely gave a thought to his ruined 
 prospects. His position called for promp- 
 titude and decision, and the same even- 
 ing he started for Paris, leaving a letter 
 for the head of the office, in which, 
 without precisely resigning his situation, 
 he stated that he was obliged to absent 
 himself on important business. Ere 
 many days had elapsed, he was once 
 more with his beloved Esther ; and when 
 the first tumult of happiness had a little 
 subsided, he anxiously questioned her 
 on the meaning of the communication 
 she had made to him. She could not 
 tell him all, but he learnt, that, imme- 
 diately after his departure, Morizot, who 
 had apparently his own views in bring- 
 ing about their marriage, had insulted 
 her with the avowal of his love, and 
 that she had repulsed him with indig- 
 nation ; that Legros and Madame de 
 Saint-Martin were the accomplices of 
 the commissary in his guilty schemes ; 
 and that she had thought it expedient 
 to temporise, until finding herself no 
 longer safe from violence, she had made 
 her escape, and taken refuge in her 
 present asylum. She added, that since 
 the night she left the Alice des Veuves, 
 she had heard nothing of the infamous 
 trio who had conspired to ruin her. 
 
 Chevillard thanked his wife for the 
 proof of affection she had given him, 
 and at the same time did not conceal 
 from her the suspicions he had con- 
 ceived during his absence. He asked 
 if the melancholy she had so frequently 
 shown before marriage, was not caused 
 by some foreboding of the passion her 
 
 guardian entertained for her. Esther 
 was obliged to allow that this was the 
 case ; and her husband then told her, 
 that she had been wrong not to place 
 more confidence in him. " I loved you 
 for yourself," said he, " not for the 
 advantages our union might assure to 
 
 : ; and I should still have wished to 
 make you my wife. Thus, at least, we 
 should not have appeared to connive at 
 such degrading assistance and patron- 
 age." 
 
 When poor Esther heard her husband 
 express these noble sentiments, she felt 
 a poignant regret at the deception she 
 had practised, and once more her secret 
 was on her lips. But again she reflected 
 that her frankness would be rather gra- 
 tuitous cruelty, for it would reveal what 
 was irreparable, and again she quieted 
 her conscience by resolving to efface 
 the guilty antecedents of her married 
 life, by the most devoted faith and 
 affection. 
 
 At the present time, it was the future 
 that more especially called for the soli- 
 citude of the youthful pair. 
 
 Chevillard wished, in the first in- 
 stance, to seek out Morizot and Legros, 
 to deal with them as they deserved. But 
 Esther opposed this desperate step, as 
 only serving to increase the enmity of 
 influential and determined men, who 
 had it in their power to cause them 
 serious injury. This remark came with 
 peculiar force to the understanding of 
 the young man, when he thought of the 
 bill of exchange he had so imprudently 
 signed, and of the scrupulous care with 
 which his perfidious creditor had refused 
 his offer of settlement. The more he 
 reflected upon this, and upon the use 
 which might be made of that dangerous 
 engagement, the more uneasy he be- 
 came, until he could no longer refrain 
 from informing Esther of the circum- 
 stance, and she fully participated in his 
 alarm. 
 
 To discharge the debt as soon as pos- 
 sible, appeared to them imperiously dic- 
 tated by their position ; but when they 
 reviewed the state of their finances, they 
 saw the apparently hopeless difficulty 
 of extricating themselves from this 
 emergency. Chevillard had not re- 
 ceived any part of -his salary, and he 
 had be6n obliged to pay for his living, 
 and the expenses of the journey from 
 Rochefort to Paris. Esther, on her 
 part, although she had restricted herself 
 to absolute necessaries, had unavoid- 
 ably encroached upon the note left her 
 by her husband at his departure. So
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 that the contents of their two purse 
 did not amount together to a thousan 
 francs. They thought of parting wit] 
 the jewels, presented by Chevillard tc 
 his bride ; but when they offered them 
 for sale, a fresh infamy of Legros' be 
 came apparent. He had either kep 
 part of the money intrusted to him, fo: 
 his own use, or he had expended by fa 
 the largest share on the present in 
 tended for Madame de Saint-Martin 
 so that Esther's trinkets, though dis- 
 posed with great art to take the eye 
 were of very little intrinsic value, and i 
 was with much difficulty they found a 
 jeweller who consented to estimate 
 them at forty louis. This money addec 
 to the small sum mentioned above, die 
 not cover the amount of the bill, anc 
 until Chevillard could find employment, 
 they must draw on it for daily expenses. 
 Under these circumstances, the unfor- 
 tunate young man saw but one re- 
 source ; this was to go to Auxerre, to 
 hasten the settlement of his claims on 
 the succession of his uncle, the notary, 
 about which he had spoken to Legros. 
 He even resolved to dispose of his 
 claims at a loss, in case the partition 
 with the other heirs should still require 
 much delay. 
 
 When Chevillard arrived in his native 
 town, his self-love was highly gratified 
 by the admiration his wife's beauty ex- 
 cited. Every one congratulated him ; 
 they were universally courted and ca- 
 ressed, and spent there several pleasant 
 weeks in a continual round of gaieties, 
 for it was the time of Christmas and the 
 S"ew Year. Those festivals, that of 
 Twelfth-day, &c., were just then cele- 
 Drated with peculiar zest, for republican 
 institutions had suppressed or sus- 
 pended these domestic feasts during 
 several preceding years. 
 
 But whilst he was living so luxu- 
 riously, the liquidation of the succession 
 'which the lawyers had an interest in 
 >rolonging) came to no satisfactory 
 ionclusion ; and when at length, seeing 
 lis purse growing empty, and wishing 
 at all risks to return to Paris, to obtain 
 ome situation in a commercial house, 
 Chevillard brought matters to a close, 
 ic found that the costs had absorbed 
 he greater part of the inheritance. As 
 or what remained, the liquidation had 
 Deen so managed, that disputes arose 
 between several of the co-heirs, and 
 fter three or four ruinously expensive 
 aw-suits, they might perhaps hope to 
 enough to pay the lawyers. When 
 hevillard found the resource upon 
 
 which he had counted, so complete! 
 fail him, he was quite discouraged, an< 
 his wife was obliged to exert all the in 
 fluence his strong affection had giver 
 her over him, to prevent his giving wa; 
 to despair. They returned to Pari 
 after a month's absence, and took mo 
 dest lodgings in the Rue de la Jussienne 
 and then the poor young man immedi 
 ately set to work to seek for some em 
 ployment, in which his aptitude a 
 accounts might avail him. But th 
 times Avere ill-adapted for such a re- 
 search ; rumours of plots* were every 
 day increasing, and the anxiety thus 
 created in the public mind, caused a 
 great stagnation in trade, so that com- 
 mercial houses were inclined to dimi- 
 nish rather than increase their establish 
 ments. 
 
 Chevillard' s applications were every- 
 where declined or postponed ; and as 
 his slender means were rapidly diminish- 
 ing, the future began to appear to him 
 under the darkest hues, and for the first 
 time since his marriage, he was angry 
 with his wife, because she asked him 
 why, instead of applying to strangers, 
 he did not try to regain his former 
 situation. 
 
 " You do not know what you are 
 talking about," said he ; " you speak 
 like a fool. I tell you, I would rather 
 beg my bread in the streets, than ask 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau for anything." 
 
 Esther could not comprehend this re- 
 pugnance, but as her husband had re- 
 ceived her advice so ungraciously, she 
 did not dare to ask him for an explana- 
 tion. The reader will however under- 
 stand Chevillard's feelings, and appre- 
 iate his delicacy. About a week after 
 ais return to Paris, and when he was 
 almost disheartened by his fruitless 
 exertions, fortune appeared disposed to 
 relent. He had called upon a banker, 
 n whose establishment he was told 
 ;here was a vacancy, and as he appeared 
 ikely to suit, was desired to look in 
 again the next day, when the banker 
 would have made inquiries of some re- 
 spectable parties to whom his applicant 
 lad referred him, and would then give 
 lis final answer. 
 
 Chevillard did not doubt that the 
 eferences would prove satisfactory, and 
 went home to his wife with a heart full 
 if hope and joy. The next day, he 
 >ade her farewell more gaily than had 
 seen his wont for some time, and set 
 iff to ascertain the banker's decision. 
 
 * Alluding 1 to the conspiracy of George Ca- 
 oudal.
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 :Ie had not been gone many minutes, 
 vhen the mistress of the house entered 
 isther's room with an alarmed counte- 
 nance, and told her that her husband 
 DOS down stairs, and wished to see her. 
 Terrified by the woman's agitated man- 
 ner while delivering this message, the 
 young wife hastened to descend the 
 stairs, and as she did so, the landlady 
 prepared her for some misfortune, by 
 observing: " It seems that the gentle- 
 nan is in difficulties." 
 
 A hackney-coach was before the 
 louse, and the unfortunate young man 
 was* seated in it, accompanied by several 
 ill-looking individuals, while a person 
 of better appearance, of whose features 
 Esther had a confused recollection, 
 stood at the door of the coach, as if to 
 juard it. As soon as Chevillard saw 
 iiis wife, he said : " Do not be alarmed, 
 my love ; these gentlemen are the 
 bearers of a judgment, obtained in con- 
 sequence of the protest of the bill of 
 exchange you know of. I must accom- 
 pany them to the Tribunal of Commerce 
 to explain." 
 
 " Oh !" cried Esther, " you are de- 
 ceiving me. You always told me, that 
 fatal paper might affect your liberty. 
 Mv husband is arrested, is it not so ?" 
 ad*ded she, turning to the person who 
 appeared to have the chief authority. 
 
 ' Not exactly," replied the bailiff, 
 who, affected by the look of despair 
 which accompanied these words, wished 
 to spare the feelings of the distracted 
 wife. But even if it be necessary for 
 your husband to accompany us to 
 Sainte-Pelagie,* it will doubtless not 
 be for long ; the sum with all costs is 
 not to a very great amount, and with 
 the assistance of friends, you will most 
 likely be able to pay it at an early 
 period." 
 
 " But at least, sir, do not hide any- 
 thing from me ; you are taking him to 
 prison, I am sure of it." 
 
 " I am obliged to do so for the pre- 
 sent ; but if you apply to Mr. Parisot, 
 head of the eighth division of the prefec- 
 ture of police, you will be admitted to 
 see him without any delay." 
 
 " Ah ! the wicked wretches !" cried 
 Esther, in an agony. 
 
 " Compose yourself, madam," said 
 the good-natured bailiff. " Sainte- 
 Pelagie is not such a bad place to dwel 
 in." 
 
 " Come, my love, be courageous," 
 
 said Chevillard, making a movement to 
 
 reach her hand, which the bailiff's men 
 
 * A prison for debtors, and suspected persons. 
 
 nstantly checked, by holding him back 
 )y the skirts of his coat. 
 
 ' Did you not say, sir, that I must 
 apply to Mr. Parisot, at the prefecture 
 of police?" demanded Esther of the 
 officer. 
 
 " Yes, madam ; he is a very polite 
 and obliging man, who will readily 
 rant your request ; and if you make a 
 ittle haste, you may be admitted into 
 the prison almost as soon as the gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " I will run to get the permission," 
 said Esther, rushing towards the house, 
 to regain her room and put on a more 
 suitable dress, for she had come down 
 in a morning-gown ; then immediately 
 retracing her steps, she wished to bid 
 tier husband once more farewell, but 
 the officer had already entered the coach, 
 and ordered the man to drive on. Esther 
 stood for a moment, looking after them 
 with despair depicted in her counte- 
 nance ; then, perceiving that she was 
 stared at by a crowd of idlers, who had 
 been collected by this scene, she took 
 refuge in the house, followed by the 
 mistress, who, moved with compassion, 
 would not leave her alone at such a 
 time. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ON applying to Mr. Parisot, Esther 
 easily obtained permission to be admitted 
 into Sainte-Pelagie, and soon joined her 
 husband there. She found him a prey 
 to feverish excitement, md before she 
 could ask how their last misfortune had 
 occurred: " The plot was of long stand- 
 ing," he exclaimed ; " the infamous 
 Legros sought an opportunity to lend 
 me the money, for the express purpose 
 of entangling me in this marriage." 
 
 " Good heavens ! my dear husband," 
 said Esther ; " it seems as if you re- 
 gretted it." 
 
 " All is now clear," continued Che- 
 villard. " They wished to find a hus- 
 band of whom they could easily get rid, 
 and I can understand why they wanted 
 me to start in such a hurry on the very 
 evening of the wedding-day." 
 
 " But you saw how I aided you to 
 frustrate their perfidious design," re- 
 turned the unhappy girl, trembling, 
 lest her own duplicity should be sus- 
 pected. 
 
 " I do not accuse you, Esther. But 
 see the infernal dexterity of these 
 wretches ; at the very moment the} 
 were engaging to open to me a prosper- 
 ous career, they were already plotting
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 69 
 
 against my liberty. The bill was pre- 
 sented the day after our marriage." 
 
 " How is it then," asked Esther, 
 " that you knew nothing of it ?" 
 
 " Oh ! everything was well managed ! 
 The house I had quitted was my resi- 
 dence in the eye of the law, and as I 
 had not left word where I was going to 
 live, all the legal notices were served at 
 the porter's lodge, without my being 
 informed of what had taken place." 
 
 " But how did they find out where 
 we lived?" 
 
 " Legros knew that I had some money- 
 claims at Auxerre ; he judged that our 
 straitened circumstances would induce 
 me to go there, to see if I could bring 
 things to a speedy termination; that 
 wretch Morizot, who grudges no money 
 to achieve his wicked plans, sent off a 
 bailiff to trace us, and watch our move- 
 ments. This man in fact followed us 
 everywhere, and returned to Paris in 
 the same coach as we did." 
 
 " How ! the gentleman who was so 
 polite to me during the journey ? But 
 indeed, when you were arrested,! fancied 
 I had seen him before." 
 
 " He is not a bad man," resumed 
 Chevillard ; " he follows his profession 
 in a humane manner. He answered 
 very readily all the questions I put to 
 him ; but he says Legros is one of the 
 worst of characters a shameless usurer, 
 capable of filling this place by his un- 
 assisted manoeuvres. Ah ! I was in 
 luck when I fell in with him !" 
 
 " My love," said Esther, timidly, " do 
 you think I had better see him ? perhaps 
 he might relent." 
 
 " Can you think of such a thing ? To 
 make advances to these wretches, when 
 evidently they have caused me to be 
 arrested, only that they may the more 
 easily triumph over you, and when my 
 anxiety is chiefly for the machinations 
 to which you will be exposed !" 
 
 " But," replied Esther, "I shall leave 
 the house where we were, and come to 
 lodge somewhere about here, that I may 
 be near you." 
 
 " Do you think they will not find you 
 out ? They have only to follow you when 
 you leave this place." 
 
 "What does that signify? when I 
 was in their power, I was able to escape 
 from them." 
 
 " Ah ! when we have to do with 
 people, who are stopped by no scruples, 
 is there not everything to fear?" cried 
 Chevillard ; " only to think of it, I 
 could dash my head against these 
 walls." 
 
 Chevillard uttered these words with 
 an accent of the deepest despair ; and 
 though his wife exerted all her powers 
 to console him, she found she was not 
 successful. In truth, his situation was 
 dreadful, and apparently hopeless ; for, 
 among all his connexion, he could think 
 of no one able to advance the sum for 
 which he was detained. The agitation 
 and anxiety of the prisoner increased as 
 the hour for their separation drew nigh, 
 and when it came, he earnestly entreated 
 his wife to observe the greatest caution, 
 to be very careful what house she went 
 into, and to place herself immediately 
 under the protection of a magistrate, if 
 any attempt was made upon her by 
 Morizot or his agents. Never had the 
 weakness of Chevillard's character been 
 more apparent; he was quite over- 
 whelmed by his misfortunes, and inca- 
 pable of exertion or energy. 
 
 The next day, Esther, having taken a 
 lodging in the Rue Copeau, near the 
 prison, where she thought she should 
 be safe, and terminated all necessary 
 arrangements, again visited her husband 
 in his confinement. Sad news awaited 
 her : poor Chevillard had been seized dur- 
 ing the night with aviolent fever, and had 
 been carried to the infirmary, by order 
 of the doctor attached to the establish- 
 ment. The sight of his wife appeared 
 to cheer him a little, but he soon mani- 
 fested how intense and absorbing was 
 the fixed idea which tormented him, by 
 asking with trembling anxiety whether 
 she had heard of the people whose pur- 
 suit she feared. Esther positively as- 
 sured him, that she had not been an- 
 noyed in any way ; but he received this 
 statement with incredulity, and declared 
 he was sure something was kept from 
 him. At length he appeared to be more 
 satisfied, but a great languor succeeded 
 to the late violent attack of fever, and 
 during the rest of the day he was in a 
 sort of stupor. It was with difficulty 
 a few words could be obtained from 
 him, and he scarcely appeared sensi- 
 ble that his wife was seated by his bed- 
 side. 
 
 When night came, Esther in vain 
 begged to be allowed to remain with 
 the sick man ; and as she was leaving 
 the prison, her husband's apprehensions 
 were verified. She was accosted by 
 Madame de Saint-Martin, who, guessing 
 she would go to see the prisoner, had 
 made inquiries as to the hour when 
 visitors were obliged to retire, and had 
 placed herself on the watch in time. 
 The young wife refused to listen to this
 
 70 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 infamous creature, and ordered her to 
 leave her ; but the matron persevered 
 in following her to the door of the lodg- 
 ing, and during the walk, tried to con- 
 vince her of the folly of sacrificing an 
 easy and pleasant life to a ridiculous 
 flight of virtue, which could lead to no- 
 thing but misery. 
 
 "Do not deceive yourself," said this 
 wicked woman, with the utmost effron- 
 tery ; " even if your husband find means 
 to pay the debt, he may not recover his 
 liberty for all that. Morizot is greatly 
 incensed at your conduct in all this 
 affair, and intends to push things to 
 extremity ; so I should not be surprised, 
 you see, if he were to lodge a complaint 
 against your Chevillard, for having left 
 his post without permission. Such a 
 proceeding might lead people to suppose, 
 that there had been some dishonesty in 
 the management of the business in- 
 trusted to him." 
 
 " What you say is infamous !" cried 
 Esther, led by a feeling of indignation 
 to break the silence she had intended to 
 maintain towards this odious creature. 
 
 " There is nothing infamous, my dear 
 little thing," replied the Saint-Martin, 
 unblushingly, " except in your ingrati- 
 tude ! After my being a mother to you, 
 and the kindness you have experienced 
 from Morizot since your earliest child- 
 hood, to act towards us as you do, 
 proves that you have no proper feeling." 
 
 While Morizot's confidant had the 
 impudence to talk of the gratitude 
 Esther owed her, they had arrived at 
 the lodging-house, and the latter had 
 laid her hand upon the knocker. " One 
 word more," said the Saint-Martin, 
 holding back her arm. " Men are such 
 fools when they are in love ! Notwith- 
 standing the wrongs he has sustained, 
 and which he certainly ought not to par- 
 don, Morizot has loaded me with fair 
 words for you. I can tell you, your 
 fate is still in your own hands : he is 
 half distracted at your loss, and if you 
 would consent to look on him with fa- 
 vour, not only would he set your hus- 
 band at liberty, but would give him a 
 much better situation than the one he 
 has left. I advise you to think over it, 
 and if you come to any wise determina- 
 tion, you have only to write to me un- 
 der cover to Legros, who will transmit 
 me the letter. Since your departure, I 
 no longer live at the Allee des Veuves ; 
 I found it too dull." 
 
 Esther made no reply, but, knocking 
 hastily at the door, escaped from a 
 woman whose presence and discourse 
 
 were alike odious to her. When she 
 entered the infirmary next day, before 
 Chevillard could perceive her, one of 
 the nursing-sisters took her apart, and, 
 without further preamble, asked if her 
 husband was a religious man. 
 
 " My husband is not a saint," replied 
 Esther ; " but why this question ?" 
 
 " Oh ! because, my dear lady, the 
 doctor has just been here, and does not 
 find him at all well," said the nurse, 
 with indiscreet zeal. "It seems, his 
 arrest has been a terrible blow : he has 
 been delirious all night, and raving 
 about a Mademoiselle Lebeau, promising 
 not to leave her house, making calcula- 
 tions, and giving orders as if he were in 
 a shop." 
 
 " But is he worse this morning ?" 
 asked Esther, with great anxiety. 
 
 " No," replied the sister, " he is calm 
 enough ; but the doctor says, if he stays 
 here long, either his life or his reason 
 will be in danger ; so, you know, if you 
 are not able to get him soon released, 
 it might be as well to call in the chap- 
 lain." 
 
 " Ah ! my sister, I trust it is not so 
 bad yet," said the "unhappy young 
 woman, breaking off the conversation 
 to approach her husband's bed. She 
 was immediately struck with the great 
 change visible in his countenance, and 
 to her extreme grief was received by 
 him with coldness ; for the sick man 
 had already reached that state of dull 
 indifference, when physical weakness 
 appears to deaden the feelings, and 
 nothing is left to the soul but a sort of 
 jealous anxiety for self. The unfortu- 
 nate prisoner was nevertheless still un- 
 der the influence of his ruling idea, 
 and his first words were to ask if the 
 people in the Alice des Veuves had not 
 been heard of. Esther naturally kept 
 back her meeting with the woman Saint- 
 Martin, the night before. 
 
 " So much the worse, that they have 
 not sent to you," said Chevillard, coldly ; 
 " I think you would do well to listen to 
 their proposals, and leave me ; this 
 marriage has brought sorrow into your 
 life, and it can cause you nothing but' 
 misery." 
 
 When Chevillard spoke thus, did he 
 not disguise in part his thoughts ? 
 When he expressed regret for Esther, 
 did he experience none for himself? 
 And was not this feeling discernible 
 even in the words that had escaped him 
 during his delirium, and which seemed 
 to indicate remorse at having quitted 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau's house ? Though
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 71 
 
 Esther clearly perceived this dreadful 
 truth, she would not show how cruelly 
 it wounded her ; in her husband's state 
 of weakness, all agitating explanations 
 were to be avoided. She therefore 
 concealed her grief, but it was only the 
 more bitter from the effort. 
 
 From the moment she suspected that 
 Chevillard looked to the past with re- 
 gret, and that she could no longer hope 
 to work out his happiness as she had 
 intended, she could no longer excuse to 
 her upbraiding conscience the deception 
 of which she had been guilty, and it 
 seemed to her that her punishment had 
 commenced. But it was the fatal sen- 
 tence pronounced by the doctor, when 
 he declared he would not answer for 
 Chevillard's recovery, if his captivity 
 were prolonged, that especially awaken- 
 ed her remorse. As she sat during that 
 long morning by the bedside, scarcely 
 exchanging a word with the patient, 
 one only thought occupied her mind : 
 How could she restore her husband to 
 liberty ? 
 
 Suddenly, a resource occurred to her ; 
 for a moment she weighed the chances, 
 and success appeared possible : that was 
 enough. The prisoner had just fallen 
 asleep. She looked at him tenderly for a 
 short time, pressed her lips to his fore- 
 head, and, rising gently, left the prison. 
 She did not waver before the difficulties 
 of the enterprise, but hastened to try 
 this last forlorn hope. 
 
 CHAPTER XVHI. 
 
 NEARLY two months had passed away, 
 since Chevillard left Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau's house. The fair mercer found 
 in the activity of her life, a powerful 
 antidote against her secret sorrow, and 
 she the more easily averted her thoughts 
 from the subject, that she had never felt 
 for our hero what might be called a 
 decided passion. 
 
 She had loved him in some sort from 
 opportunity, because he was always 
 there ; because she had known him 
 from childhood ; because he was blended 
 with all her interests, and the whole 
 tenor of her life ; and also, because, as 
 we have said before, she was strong in 
 energy and intellect, and did not fear in 
 him the competition of too bold and 
 domineering a spirit. She was there- 
 fore tranquilly enough occupied with 
 her business, when she was told that a 
 young lady wished to speak with her. 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau immediately re- 
 paired to her private room to receive the 
 
 visitor, and whilst begging her to be 
 seated, could not but remark the strong 
 emotion which appeared to agitate her. 
 The stranger paused for a moment, and 
 then said : " Mademoiselle, my name 
 will in a certain measure explain the 
 liberty I have taken. I am the wife of 
 a person who was in your service for a 
 long time Mr. Chevillard." 
 
 "Mr. Chevillard certainly yes, ma- 
 dam he was a long time here," re- 
 plied Mademoiselle Lebeau, her thoughts 
 so confused that she could not answer 
 as calmly*ks she wished. 
 
 " He has often spoken to me of you," 
 continued Esther, " as of one full of 
 kindness and amiability " 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau bowed in ac- 
 knowledgment of this courtesy, but 
 she did not by word or look give any 
 encouragement to the request which 
 seemed likely to follow ; she waited for 
 Madame Chevillard to explain the object 
 of her visit. 
 
 " Mr. Chevillard's marriage," resumed 
 Esther, " has not turned out so well as 
 was expected- -" 
 
 "You surprise me," said the fair 
 mercer; "I should have thought Mr. 
 Chevillard's choice would have made 
 him an object of envy to all." 
 
 Under a varnish of flattering polite- 
 ness, this remark had something of a 
 bitter meaning, and the tone in which 
 it was made, might bear either interpre- 
 tation. 
 
 " If it had depended upon me alone," 
 continued poor Esther, "my husband 
 should have had no cause to regret his 
 choice ; but soon after our union, a ter- 
 rible misfortune came upon us." 
 
 "Indeed! in what manner r" said 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau, her curiosity, if 
 not her interest, being now awakened. 
 
 " Before Mr. Chevillard was married, 
 he committed a great imprudence ; he 
 had borrowed money." 
 
 " I am much surprised to hear that ; 
 I thought that your husband had not 
 much beforehand, but I did not know 
 he was in debt." 
 
 " Such however was the case, ma- 
 demoiselle ; and he had entered into 
 engagements, on the strength of which 
 his creditors have acted in the most 
 rigorous manner." 
 
 " They have doubtless instituted pro- 
 ceedings against him ?" 
 
 " He was taken to Sainte-Pelagie the 
 day before yesterday," replied Esther, 
 making up her mind to tell the worst. 
 
 "To Sainte-Pelagie!" repeated Ma- 
 demoiselle Lebeau, with an accent of no
 
 72 
 
 THE WIDOWS* WALK; OR, 
 
 doubtful sympathy ; then, after a mo- 
 ment of painful silence, she resumed : 
 " But I thought, madam, from what Mr. 
 Chevillard said, that his marriage placed 
 him in a most advantageoxis position ; 
 how then is it ?" 
 
 "I did not bring any fortune to my 
 husband," replied the young -wife ; 
 " but an honourable and lucrative sitiia- 
 tion was insured to him. Unfortunately, 
 from circumstances too complicated to 
 touch upon now, the very persons who 
 were to provide for him, have become 
 our enemies, and it is at their instiga- 
 tion that we have been so cruelly perse- 
 cuted." 
 
 "I do not wish, madam, to aggravate 
 your misfortune by disobliging remarks ; 
 but I am astonished that Mr. Chevillard 
 should not, without renouncing the hope 
 of obtaining your hand, have postponed 
 a conclusion which has entailed upon 
 him so many perplexities." 
 
 "It was impossible for my husband 
 to foresee what has taken place ; and I, 
 although I was not so completely de- 
 ceived, had become so attached to him, 
 that I did not calculate the probable 
 consequences." 
 
 " This is certainly a sad thing," ob- 
 served Mademoiselle Lcbeau, rather 
 coldly ; " but how can my interference 
 avail you ?" 
 
 " Alas ! mademoiselle," said Esther, 
 with tears in her eyes, "I am more 
 wretched than you think for. My hus- 
 band's arrest has been a terrible shock 
 to him ; his health was immediately 
 affected in the most serious manner, and 
 this morning the doctor intimated that 
 a prolonged captivity would be fatal." 
 
 " Oh ! it is not probable, that, in so 
 short a time, such a result can be anti- 
 cipated." 
 
 " It were vain to deceive myself with 
 false hopes ; his life or his reason is 
 menaced. I should myself have judged 
 him to be in a very alarming state, if I 
 had not been warned by the attendants. 
 Besides, mademoiselle, the step I have 
 taken must prove to you my deep 
 anxiety." 
 
 " Well, madam, but what can I do? 
 what do you desire?" 
 
 " I beg you to believe, mademoiselle, 
 that Mr, Chevillard is not aware of this 
 visit ; only a woman fearing for her 
 husband's life, and feeling besides, that 
 she was partly the cause of his mis- 
 fortunes, could have the temerity to 
 implore your compassion." 
 
 " You may command my goodwill, 
 madam," said Mademoiselle Lebeau; 
 
 " but of what nature is the service you 
 require of me? Personal interest, or 
 pecuniary intervention?" 
 
 " Mademoiselle, no steps would be of 
 any avail with the people to whom I 
 allude ; our only resource is to discharge 
 the debt." 
 
 " And what sum is necessary?" 
 
 " Alas ! a considerable sum ; with the 
 costs, it must amount to nearly four 
 thousand francs." 
 
 This figure of four thousand francs 
 recalled to Mademoiselle Lebeau' s re- 
 membrance, the way in which she 
 parted from Chevillard, and produced 
 an unfavourable effect. She thought, 
 that with the gratuity she had forced 
 him to accept, he might have cleared 
 himself, and restored order in his affairs ; 
 besides, she did not put much confidence 
 in this account of the probable result of 
 his imprisonment. And then to sum 
 up, heroism is not a matter of strict 
 duty, and to resolve upon making a 
 considerable sacrifice, at the prayer of 
 a woman who had blighted one of the 
 cherished hopes of her life, was not this 
 passing the limit which separates gene- 
 rosity from credulity ? From whatever 
 cause it might be, the fair mercer did 
 not at once rise to the height. of evan- 
 gelical charity expected of her. She 
 even expressed her refusal more harshly 
 than she would have done, if she had 
 been sure of the full approbation of her 
 conscience. 
 
 " I am very sorry," she said ; " but I 
 really cannot advance so large a sum ; 
 it is quite impossible." 
 
 " My husband is young," replied 
 Madame Chevillard; "he may look 
 forward ; by his exertions, and the 
 great economy I shall exercise in our 
 home, we should perhaps in a short 
 time be able to repay you." 
 
 The words, my husband, we, our home, 
 unluckily brought together in one sen- 
 tence, must evidently have grated upon 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau's ear. So that, 
 instead of being touched by this promise 
 of a speedy repayment, she replied, in a 
 decisive tone: " Madam, I repeat, that 
 it is not in my power to render you this 
 service ; I have a very expensive es- 
 tablishment ; business has been very 
 dull for some time, and I have myself 
 to meet numerous engagements." 
 
 " I hope, in that case, you will ex- 
 cuse my importunity, mademoiselle," 
 said Esther, rising. 
 
 " Your devotion to your husband is 
 quite sufficient excuse, and I regret I 
 cannot take part in it."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CBIME. 
 
 73 
 
 " If you should happen to see Mr. 
 Chevillard, may I presume to beg you 
 not to mention an application, of which 
 he might perhaps not have approved ?" 
 
 " Oh ! madam," replied Mademoi- 
 selle Lebeau, " there is very little 
 chance that I shall meet with Mr. Che- 
 villard ; but, at all events you may 
 rely on my discretion." 
 
 Esther had reached the door as these 
 words were uttered, and taking a cere- 
 monious leave, rapidly descended the 
 stairs. Mademoiselle Lebeau politely 
 accompanied her as far as the entrance 
 of the shop, but the poor young creature 
 
 10 
 
 did not even notice this attention ; and 
 the next moment she was in the street, 
 so absorbed in grief, that she was re- 
 gardless of all around her. Had it not 
 been for the benevolent interference of 
 a passer-by, who drew her hastily to- 
 wards him, she would have been knocked 
 down by a coach, and trampled under 
 the horses' feet. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 LEAVING this unfortunate creature, 
 half crazed with despair, to wander on 
 without knowing what to do, or where
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OR, 
 
 to direct her steps, we will return to 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau, who, on the 
 other hand, was far from easy in her 
 mind. To be a woman, and take re- 
 venge, especially when a quiet and 
 negative sort of cruelty is in question, 
 appears at first a very pleasant thing ; 
 but conscience, which speaks so forcibly 
 to generous natures, will not be long 
 silent, and pleads the cause of virtuous 
 resolutions. 
 
 If, thought the fair mercer, it be true 
 that this unfortunate young man is in 
 such distress, am I not very obdurate to 
 abandon him thus to his fate? Of 
 what indeed had he been guilty ? Had 
 he broken any promise or engagement ? 
 To be sure, he had not seen what he 
 might have seen ; but was want of 
 penetration a crime, and could the 
 heart be disposed of at will ? 
 
 It was, doubtless, singular and hu- 
 miliating, that the very woman, who 
 had disturbed the happiness of her life, 
 should now try to interest her in her 
 misfortunes, arid solicit protection from 
 the avenging shafts of destiny. But, 
 when the suppliant became the wife of 
 Chevillard, how could she know the 
 blow she inflicted, or have any inten- 
 tion of injuring another ? As she re- 
 flected upon all the circumstances, 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau could not conceal 
 from herself, that she had been actuated 
 by unworthy motives, which she would 
 have been ashamed openly to avow. 
 In spite of the ingenious sophistry with 
 Avhich our evil propensities seek to jus- 
 tify themselves, she felt, that when she 
 had to choose between a noble clemency 
 and a harsh resentment, she had decided 
 for the latter. 
 
 For some time, the balance remained 
 suspended. She was irresolute and ill 
 at ease. But, after a struggle of several 
 hours' duration, she found she could not 
 silence the upbraidings of her conscience, 
 her native goodness prevailed, and she 
 went to her private safe, from, which 
 she took the sum required ; then, send- 
 ing for a coach, in less than a quarter of 
 an hour she arrived at Sainte-Pelagie. 
 She was but just in time, the office was 
 about to be closed, and, if she had de- 
 layed a few minutes longer, the matter 
 could not have been settled that evening. 
 
 The necessary formalities for effecting 
 the liberation of the prisoner were soon 
 accomplished, and Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau retired, after making the clerk 
 promise, that no information was to be 
 given to Chevillard, touching the person 
 to whom he was indebted for his liberty. 
 
 This promise was easily kept by the 
 obliging functionary, for that worthy 
 individual being in a hurry to leave the 
 office to go to a dinner-party, did not 
 himself notify the good news to the 
 captive. The gaoler, who went to tell 
 him that the gates of his prison were 
 open, could give no satisfactory reply to 
 his anxious inquiries. 
 
 Since his wife had left him, Chevil- 
 lard had enjoyed several hours of re- 
 freshing sleep, and was considerably 
 better ; indeed, the doctor had greatly 
 exaggerated his danger, and the wel- 
 come intelligence of his release pro- 
 duced so happy an effect upon him, 
 that it appeared to infuse fresh life and 
 vigour into his languid frame. He in- 
 sisted upon getting up and leaving the 
 prison, in spite of all the efforts of the 
 nurse to dissuade him from his design. 
 Another motive, besides his desire to 
 breathe once more the free air, insti- 
 gated him to this imprudent act ; he 
 could attribute his unexpected deliver- 
 ance to no one but Esther, and yet he 
 could not conceive by what means she 
 had been able to effect it. Besides, it 
 was strange she had not come herself to 
 announce the success she had met with : 
 it was more than strange ; and Chevil- 
 lard's jealous susceptibility saw in it 
 the evidence of some unwelcome com- 
 munication with his persecutors. His 
 anxiety on this subject would of itself 
 have given him strength to stand and 
 walk, and in less than half-an-hour he 
 was on his road to the Rue Copeau. 
 It was already dark, when, accompanied 
 by one of the turnkeys, he presented 
 himself to the mistress of the lodging- 
 house ; the man came with him to 
 receive the amount of a small bill, 
 which he had not ready money to dis- 
 charge before leaving the prison, and 
 this proved a fortunate circumstance, 
 insomuch as it served to identify him 
 as the husband of Madame Chevillard, 
 and to gain him ready admittance into 
 his wife's room. 
 
 Esther was absent, and had prudently 
 locked the desk that contained her 
 scanty hoard ; but as a sort of omnibus- 
 lock is very much in fashion at lodging- 
 houses, which yields readily to the 
 slightest pressure, Chevillard found no 
 difficulty in opening this one with 
 another key, that he took out of a 
 drawer, and thus obtained possession of 
 the sum required. Having dismissed 
 the turnkey, he had no choice left but 
 to await Esther's return, by the side of 
 a crackling fire he had ordered to be
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CHIME. 
 
 75 
 
 lighted. He was vexed at her absence, 
 but still he felt no alarm, and waited 
 patiently for a considerable time ; but 
 as it grew later, and still she did not 
 come, a vague feeling of inquietude 
 began to creep over him. The large, 
 comfortless room, dimly lighted by the 
 flickering flame of one candle, was not 
 calculated to inspire cheerful thoughts, 
 and the deserted husband sought in vain 
 to account for his wife's strange delay, 
 now that the evening had completely 
 closed in. A person, who is waiting 
 for any one, feels the instinctive desire 
 of motion and conversation. Chevil- 
 lard accordingly repaired to the woman 
 of the house, and made minute en- 
 quiries as to the time when his wife 
 went out, and whether she had men- 
 tioned the place of her destination, or 
 the hour when she intended to return. 
 He could learn nothing satisfactory ; 
 so he sadly regained his solitary room, 
 and began to walk up and down, a 
 prey to countless doubts and con- 
 jectures. 
 
 Another half-hour had passed in this 
 state of uncertainty, and the unhappy 
 man had reached the last stage of im- 
 patience and anxiety ; he spoke aloud, 
 pressed his clenched hands to his head, 
 stamped on the floor, and, in short, 
 displayed all the signs of frantic grief, 
 when a servant, who had not been pre- 
 sent when he questioned her mistress, 
 came in haste to tell him, that, a little 
 before his wife left the house, she had 
 received a letter, brought by a footman 
 in livery. This information, though 
 sufficiently alarming in itself, was hailed 
 by Chevillard as a favour, for it fur- 
 nished him with a clue to commence 
 some researches, and he immediately 
 began turning over everything in the 
 room, in quest of the letter alluded to. 
 After a long and tedious search, he 
 found, near the place whence he had 
 taken the money, and where he never 
 thought of looking till the last moment, 
 a note addressed to Madame Chevillard, 
 in a hand that was quite unknown to 
 him. He opened it ; though without a 
 signature, the contents left no doubt as 
 to its author ; they were as follow : 
 
 " My charming creature, Madame 
 de Saint-Martin informs me, that you 
 have at length determined to be reason- 
 able. That is as it should be. If you 
 will come this evening, at six o'clock, 
 to my petite-maison, we shall be alone. 
 I send you the key, and the first come 
 shall wait for the other. I enclose a 
 draft for 5,000 francs, payable at my 
 
 banker's, to-morrow mornittff. So when 
 you leave me, you can call for the 
 money, and restore your husband to 
 liberty. You see, I deal honourably 
 with you, and sacrifice myself without 
 knowing whether you may not change 
 your mind. But you were always in- 
 capable of breaking your word ; and 
 besides, my sweet angel, you know I 
 am well able to remedy any mistake, if 
 by an impossible chance you should 
 intend to play me false. So, adieu till 
 this evening." 
 
 The reader may easily guess Chevil- 
 lard' s terrible emotion when he read 
 this epistle. The absence of his wife, 
 who must think him still in prison, was 
 now sufficiently explained. Seven 
 o'clock had struck, as he made this 
 frightful discovery, and the assignation 
 was at six ! All must be lost, and his 
 dishonour completed ! 
 
 For the moment, he was overwhelmed 
 by the shock he had received, but soon 
 recovering, he thrilled with the hope of 
 finding the seducer still present. The 
 pistol he had turned against himself on 
 the day of the dinner with Chabouillant, 
 was yet in his possession ; he seized it, 
 threw himself into a cab, stopped at a 
 gunsmith's, where he purchased a dag- 
 ger and some powder and ball, and then, 
 promising to give the driver a handsome 
 fee, ordered him to drive full speed to 
 the Champs-Elysees. 
 
 Just before they reached the Allee 
 des Veuves, he got out, and was quickly 
 before the door of the house, which 
 appeared to be so fatally connected with 
 the sad and complicated drama of his 
 life. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE infuriated young man deliberated 
 for an instant how he should get in ; he 
 gazed and listened attentively, but not 
 a ray of light was visible, not a sound 
 was heard, to guide him in his enter- 
 prise. At last, it struck him, that, as 
 he could not possibly be expected by 
 those he came to surprise, it was not 
 likely they should be on their guard; 
 he therefore adopted the simplest and 
 most obvious mode of proceeding, and, 
 seizing the knocker, gave two or three 
 loud strokes. Some minutes passed, 
 and then he heard steps in the court- 
 yard, and distinguished a light advanc- 
 ing towards him. 
 
 The door opened ; but instead of the 
 villain he expected to see, Esther her- 
 self stood before him. On perceiving
 
 76 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OK, 
 
 her husband, the unfortunate uttered a 
 piercing cry, let fall the taper, and 
 silence and obscurity reigned once more 
 around. Chevillard's first thought was 
 to cut off all means of escape from his 
 enemy. He carefully closed and bolted 
 the door; then, without knowing what 
 had become of his wife, he went straight 
 to the steps leading to the vestibule, 
 traversed it with precipitation, and 
 entered the saloon, where he saw can- 
 dles burning. The apartment was de- 
 serted, and he soon convinced himself 
 that the wretch he hoped to meet was 
 not concealed in any part of it ; he 
 therefore seized a candle, and returning 
 to the vestibule, was about to visit the 
 upper chambers, when a strange and 
 dismal vision fixed him in terror to the 
 spot. Staggering like a drunken wo- 
 man, her features pale and ghastly, her 
 eyes dull and fixed, Esther painfully 
 mounted the steps, tottered forwards, 
 and, with a stifled groan, fell heavily at 
 her husband's feet. 
 
 All other emotions were lost in a 
 sentiment of pity, and Chevillard has- 
 tened to raise the unhappy creature, 
 thinking that she had fainted; but to 
 his great surprise, instead of the usual 
 symptoms of a swoon, he found that 
 her heart and pulse were beating with 
 great quickness and force, though a 
 deep and leaden sleep appeared to have 
 suddenly seized upon her faculties. 
 Alarmed and amazed by this singula- 
 rity, the distracted husband paused in 
 his schemes of revenge, took the pa- 
 tient in his arms, carried her into the 
 saloon, and placed her on a seat ; then, 
 kneeling down before her, and chafing 
 her hands, he asked if she did not 
 know him ? 
 
 " Yes," replied she, speaking almost 
 inarticulately, and in broken accents; 
 " I know your voice, but I cannot see 
 you ; there is a mist between us." 
 
 When she had said this, her eyes 
 again closed, and she relapsed into her 
 lethargy. Her breathing was so regular, 
 that you might have supposed she was 
 in a natural and tranquil sleep, had it 
 not been for the convulsive shudder 
 which from time to time agitated her 
 limbs. Suddenly, an idea flashed across 
 Chevillard's mind. " The wretches !" 
 he exclaimed ; " they have made her 
 take a narcotic ; they are familiar with 
 such abominable practices in this house." 
 This supposition tranquillised him a 
 little, and, at the same time, renewed 
 his rage ; he rushed out of the room 
 with a light in his hand, resolved to 
 
 search the house till he found the odious 
 Morizot, whom he supposed to be con- 
 cealed in some part of it. He went 
 through all the upper rooms without 
 success, and was descending the stairs, 
 when a prolonged knocking was heard 
 at the outer door. 
 
 " At last !" cried he, running to open 
 it ; " it is he ! I shall have my revenge, 
 and he has not achieved his crime. 
 Heaven then is just !" 
 
 But it was apparently decreed, that, 
 in this accursed house, no one should 
 meet that evening with the person 
 he expected. Chevillard was again 
 deceived ; it was not Morizot, but 
 his worthy accomplice, Madame de 
 Saint-Martin. At sight of the husband, 
 against whom she had been conspiring 
 from the first, this depraved woman 
 started back in affright ; but he rushed 
 upon her, and seizing her arm, ex- 
 claimed : " Come in, come in, honest 
 creature ! come and contemplate your 
 work ; and afterwards we will settle 
 accounts." 
 
 He then dragged her into the saloon, 
 and placing her before Esther, still 
 plunged in a heavy sleep : " What 
 have you given to this unfortunate r" 
 he asked, with ill-repressed indignation. 
 " Come i speak answer !" 
 
 " Pshaw !" replied the woman, with- 
 out being in the least disconcerted ; 
 " there is no occasion to give anything 
 to people to make them sleep when 
 they are weary the poor child has 
 been waiting here at least two hours, 
 for a person whom she was to meet 
 upon your affairs, and who has not been 
 able to come. She must have fallen 
 asleep, while I was on my way to in- 
 form her of this mischance." 
 
 " And you do not name the person :" 
 said Chevillard, ironically, and raising 
 his voice in a menacing manner, till 
 the noise appeared to rouse Esther once 
 more from her state of stupor. 
 
 " See ! she awakes," cried the Saint- 
 Martin ; " you can question her, and 
 she will tell you if anything has been 
 given to her, as you suppose.' ' 
 
 " Esther ! speak to me !" said Che- 
 villard ; " do you suffer anywhere r" 
 
 The patient opened her eyes, to which 
 the prodigious dilatation of the pupils 
 gave an expression no language can 
 convey, and, putting her hands to her 
 head, as if to intimate that it was there 
 she felt pain, appeared about to relapse 
 into her lethargy. 
 
 " Come, do wake up !" exclaimed 
 the woman, shaking her; "here is
 
 THE MYSTEBY OF CHIME. 
 
 77 
 
 your husband, who says you have had 
 a narcotic given you." 
 
 " No it is I have taken " re- 
 plied the patient, with great effort, and 
 again relapsing into that unnatural 
 sleep. 
 
 " Ah, good heaven !" said the Saint- 
 Martin, suddenly, holding a light to- 
 wards Esther's face; " do you see those 
 yellow spots round her mouth ?" 
 
 "Well?" demanded Chevillard, in 
 the greatest anxiety. 
 
 " Unhappy girl ! she must have 
 swallowed laudanum, to poison her- 
 self." 
 
 " Oh ! pray God it may not be true," 
 cried Chevillard ; "for your life shall 
 answer for hers !" 
 
 " Be quiet, with your threats ! You 
 would do much better to go for assist- 
 ance. From the time you have let the 
 poison work, it is perhaps too late to 
 save her." 
 
 " But where shall I find a doctor in 
 this part?" asked Chevillard, preparing 
 to set off, greatly agitated. 
 
 " In the Rue des Gourdes, nearly at 
 the corner of the lane that leads from 
 this avenue to Chaillot, a house with 
 iron gates ; but stay I had better go 
 myself; you will lose time in looking 
 for it." 
 
 " But is there nothing that can be 
 done till you return?" 
 
 " I don't exactly understand what is 
 proper in her state," replied the woman; 
 " but try at least to shake off this ter- 
 rible sleep, which ends in death." 
 
 Having given this prudent advice, 
 she hurried away. Chevillard, left to 
 himself, tried every means he could 
 think of to combat the stupor which 
 gained continually upon the victim ; 
 but the poison had been working for 
 several hours, and was now irresistible 
 in its action. During the short intervals 
 when he was able to rouse her in some 
 degree, the words she let fall showed 
 that the faculties of her mind were 
 affected by the poison. It was vain to 
 hope for any intelligible account of the 
 circumstances that led to the accom- 
 plishment of her fatal resolution. 
 
 Only a short time had elapsed since 
 Madame de Saint-Martin's departure, 
 but Chevillard's impatience for assist- 
 ance was so great, that minutes ap- 
 peared to him like hours ; and he began 
 to entertain the horrible suspicion, that, 
 too happy to escape his vengeance, she 
 had left the patient to her fate, when, to 
 his great relief, she entered with the 
 doctor. The symptoms of poisoning by 
 
 opium were so evident, that the medical 
 man was able at once to make up his 
 mind. A large dose had apparently 
 been swallowed, and the coffee and 
 medicated vinegar, which he had brought 
 with him to administer to the patient, 
 did not produce the slightest effect. 
 For several hours, he tried various 
 remedies without success ; and when, 
 towards midnight, he decided to try 
 bleeding as a last resource, it was fol- 
 lowed by a final crisis, in which death 
 wore so much the appearance of sleep, 
 that no one could tell when the poor 
 young creature breathed her last sigh. 
 Madame de Saint-Martin had been in- 
 defatigable and judicious in her atten- 
 tions to the unhappy Esther (a pro- 
 ceeding easily reconciled to her past 
 conduct), and so long as there was any 
 hope, and Chevillard and she were so 
 engrossed alike by this mournful scene, 
 an indifferent spectator might have 
 supposed the greatest cordiality reigned 
 between them. But when all was over, 
 the bereaved husband gave way to the 
 frenzy of despair ; he threw himself 
 upon the corpse, embracing it, and ut- 
 tering inarticulate cries ; then, turning 
 his fury against the Saint-Martin, it is 
 impossible to say what might have 
 happened, had not the doctor inter- 
 posed. 
 
 Although he did not comprehend the 
 nature of the bitter reproaches Chevil- 
 lard addressed to this woman, he saw 
 that her safety was endangered, and 
 advised her to retire, as there was no 
 longer any occasion for her care. The 
 matron had come to the Alice des 
 Veuves in a hackney-coach, which was 
 still in waiting ; so that it was easy for 
 her to reach her home in perfect safety. 
 When he had seen her drive off, the 
 doctor returned to Chevillard, and en- 
 deavoured to persuade him to leave the 
 house. But the unhappy young man 
 declared he would not impiously aban- 
 don the remains of the victim, and 
 when the other proposed to send a 
 nurse to assist him in the sad office of 
 watching by the deceased, he peremp- 
 torily rejected any such hired inter- 
 ference. 
 
 Before leaving, the medical man once 
 more carefully re-examined the body, to 
 ascertain, beyond a doubt, that life was 
 extinct, for the lethargic sleep produced 
 by opium, frequently looks like death, 
 before it has in reality taken place; 
 but he acquired the painful certainty, 
 that Providence had issued its irrevo- 
 cable mandate, and prepared to depart,
 
 78 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 more affected than he usually was by 
 similar catastrophes. Night, the lonely 
 spot, all the incidents of the melancholy 
 scene in which he had taken part, were 
 calculated to produce a deep and pain- 
 ful impression upon the most callous 
 mind. 
 
 A duty remained to be accomplished : 
 the circumstance of poison always ex- 
 cites suspicion of crime. Although 
 from all he had been able to ascertain, 
 the doctor was morally certain that the 
 deceased had committed suicide, he 
 warned Chevillard, that he should be 
 obliged to inform the authorities of the 
 violent death he had witnessed, and 
 asked if on his side he' were prepared 
 to answer the questions, which would 
 undoubtedly be asked by the magistrate 
 who would come to view the body. 
 
 Chevillard replied, that, far from 
 fearing the investigations of justice, he 
 was resolved to call down all its rigours 
 on the guilty parties ; and thanking the 
 kind doctor, who refused all payment 
 for his ineffectual services, he advised 
 him to go and seek the repose of which 
 he stood in need. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 WHEN Chevillard was left alone, like 
 all persons who are a prey to extreme 
 grief, he felt a strange impulse to recall 
 everything that could increase the bit- 
 terness of his loss. Going back in the 
 past, to the first dawn of the horrid 
 fatality which weighed increasingly 
 upon him, he recalled that joyous 
 evening, little more than six weeks ago, 
 when he dined with his colleague the 
 commercial traveller, of which repast 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau had appeared to 
 foresee the disastrous consequences. 
 From this had proceeded a logical and 
 irresistible chain of events : his im- 
 prudent visit to the gambling-house, 
 his fault, his acquaintance with Legros, 
 his love, his marriage, all the misfor- 
 tunes that had ensued, and finally, the 
 frightful catastrophe which had closed 
 the gloomy tale. 
 
 When he retraced the troubles that 
 had overtaken him since the moment he 
 first saw her, who now lay before him 
 in death, he could not forbear thinking 
 of the calm and happy existence that 
 would have awaited him, had he been 
 earlier aware of Mademoiselle Lebeau' s 
 sentiments, and had he married that 
 lady ; but he did not admit that these 
 evils had arisen from his own ambition, 
 vanity, and foolish wish to change the 
 
 even tenor of his life ; he preferred 
 ascribing all to the insuperable decrees 
 of fate, of which he was a melancholy 
 and striking example. Then a thought 
 flashed across his mind : now that his 
 task was accomplished, and he had 
 drained the cup to the dregs, might he 
 not quit this losing game ? When she, 
 whom he had so loved, had but just de- 
 parted, might he not rejoin her in that 
 better world, to which she had preceded 
 him? 
 
 But it seemed to him, that he had 
 yet a duty to perform : those who had 
 so mortally injured him, and to whom 
 so precious a victim had been sacrificed, 
 must expiate their crimes. He must 
 live for revenge; he would not rejoice 
 his odious persecutors, by sparing them 
 a terrible retribution. 
 
 * * * 
 
 The long hours of the night passed 
 heavily away ; the tapers that had been 
 lighted by the hand of Esther, that 
 hand which they had outlived, were 
 consumed in the socket. To their ex- 
 piring light succeeded that of the moon, 
 whose pale rays fell mournfully on the 
 face of the deceased. Death had not 
 yet changed her features, and they 
 shone with a celestial beauty, awaken- 
 ing in the heart of the bereaved hus- 
 band a fresh train of recollections. 
 
 He remembered, that in the same 
 room, where she was now stretched 
 livid and icy -cold, on the night when 
 their marriage was decided, he had seen 
 her in the full splendour of her youth 
 and beauty. How often, his heart throb- 
 bing with love and joy, had he entered 
 this house, now one of mourning and 
 despair ; and but a few steps separated 
 the scene of death from the nuptial- 
 chamber. Suddenly, the idea of a 
 strange source of consolation occurred 
 to the unhappy man. There, where his 
 love had been crowned with felicity, 
 he resolved to celebrate the espousals of 
 death : he raised his beloved wife in his 
 arms, carried the precious burden to the 
 chamber above, and placed it respect- 
 fully upon the nuptial couch. 
 
 Then he remembered, that those who 
 have departed for eternity, claim from 
 us the garments of the grave ; and he 
 took from the drawer, where they had 
 been religiously preserved, the clothes 
 that fair girl had worn on her wedding- 
 day. When she fled precipitately from 
 this inhospitable house, she was obliged 
 to leave them, and almost everything 
 that belonged to her, behind ; and now, 
 finding a melancholy pleasure in attir-
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 79 
 
 ing her with his own hands, the hus- 
 band restored to his dead bride her 
 white marriage garments, cut a lock of 
 her light hair, and, kissing the cold 
 forehead, resolved that she should sleep 
 in no other shroud. 
 
 However rude and prolonged a trial 
 may be, it must find a term. This 
 terrible night, therefore, at length came 
 to an end ; and, towards morning, ex- 
 hausted by fatigue and emotion, Che- 
 villard sunk into a kind of dozing state, 
 which, though it could not properly be 
 termed sleep, gave him a few hours' 
 respite from the consciousness of his 
 situation and his sorrows. He was 
 roused from this stupor, by a knocking 
 at the outer door, and on opening it, 
 admitted the magistrate of the district, 
 who, accompanied by a doctor, came to 
 verify the case of violent death which 
 had been reported to him. 
 
 The magistrate interrogated the poor 
 young man, as to the causes which had 
 led to his wife's fatal resolution ; upon 
 this, he related the persecution to which 
 she had been exposed whilst he was 
 in prison, and the moral violence to 
 which she must have yielded, to obtain 
 his release ; and, not doubting that she 
 had sought in death a refuge for her 
 virtue, he asked to depose a complaint 
 against the authors of her deplorable 
 fate. But he was told, there was not 
 sufficient evidence of positive guilt, to 
 warrant any proceeding at criminal law ; 
 the attempt at adultery had, as he him- 
 self stated, not been put in execution, 
 and his wife's death, whatever might 
 have been the motives that suggested 
 so rash an act to her despair, could not 
 be placed directly to the charge of those 
 whom he accused. 
 
 Besides, there was a still more forci- 
 ble reason : Chevillard's narrative had 
 a certain air of romance, and many 
 things in it were mysterious and un- 
 satisfactory. The magistrate was not 
 quite satisfied with the explanations 
 offered to him, and, by the inquisitorial 
 nature of his questions, manifested that 
 
 vague suspicion had arisen in his 
 mind against the husband, when an un- 
 expected yet perfectly natural interven- 
 tion, diverted this last stroke of ill-for- 
 tune from the unhappy young man. 
 
 The reader has doubtless not for- 
 gotten the clerk, who was one of the 
 witnesses at Chevillard's marriage, and 
 with whom he was on intimate terms. 
 Whilst the magistrate was pursuing his 
 investigation, this young fellow pre- 
 sented himself at the house of mourn- 
 
 ing, saying, he had to give his friend a 
 sum of money and a letter from his wife 
 The public functionary summoned him 
 to tell all he knew, and being authorisec 
 thereto by Chevillard, h stated, tha' 
 the day before, at about half-past five 
 in the afternoon, Madame Chevillarc 
 had come to him, and asked him to 
 render her an important service. Upon 
 his answering, that he should be mosi 
 happy to do so, she had given him a 
 draft for five thousand francs, payabl 
 the next morning, and destined to 
 procure Chevillard's release, whose re- 
 cent imprisonment at Sainte-Pelagie, he 
 thus learnt for the first time. 
 
 " I am obliged to start this evening 
 on an indispensable journey," Madame 
 Chevillard had added, " and I should 
 esteem it a great favour, if you would 
 call on the banker, and then go to the 
 prison to set my husband at liberty. 
 Be kind enough to give him whatever 
 money may remain over, and also this 
 letter, which explains the motive of my 
 absence." With these words, she had 
 left precipitately, after assuring him oi 
 her gratitude. 
 
 " She appeared to be full of thought," 
 continued the clerk, addressing his dis- 
 course to Chevillard; " and this morn- 
 ing, as soon as I got the money, I 
 hastened to Sainte-Pelagie, but heard 
 with astonishment, you had been re- 
 leased yesterday evening. A man at 
 the prison gave me your address, Rue 
 Copeau ; I ran thither, and was told 
 you went out last night, and had not 
 returned. I then supposed you might 
 be in this house, where you were stay- 
 ing after your marriage, so I set off im- 
 mediately to give you the sum which 
 was deposited with me, and Madame 
 Chevillard's letter, for I thought its 
 contents might be of importance to 
 you." 
 
 " And you have that letter ?" asked 
 the magistrate. 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Please to give it to me, then." 
 The mesanger hesitated, and appear- 
 ed to wait the consent of his friend, 
 when the magistrate observed gravely : 
 " Madame Chevillard died during the 
 night, from the effects of poison." 
 
 This intelligence was like a clap of 
 thunder to the young man, and the 
 unfortunate Chevillard confirmed it by 
 throwing himself, weeping, into his 
 arms. 
 
 After a short pause, the magistrate 
 resumed : " Some obscurity still reigns 
 over this case, which it is the duty of
 
 80 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 justice to investigate. The letter you 
 have brought, mil, in all likelihood, 
 furnish a positive explanation, and it is 
 to your friend's interest that it should 
 be as complete as possible." 
 
 Chevillard manifested no opposition 
 to this intimation, and the letter was 
 given up to the magistrate. He opened 
 it, read a few lines, and then, with a rare 
 sentiment of delicacy, which it were to 
 be wished prevailed more frequently in 
 criminal examinations, handed it to the 
 husband. "The firm resolution to com- 
 mit suicide," saidhe, "is expressed in the 
 first sentences. It is not the province 
 of justice to penetrate into family se- 
 crets, further than is necessary to inform 
 Itself of the truth ; I need not read any 
 more. As for us, sir," continued he, 
 addressing the doctor who had accom- 
 panied him, " we have only to view the 
 body, before drawing up iheproces-verbal 
 required by law." 
 
 Chevillard showed them the way; 
 then, returning to his friend, he read 
 what follows, with eager and mournful 
 curiosity : 
 
 " When you receive this letter, my 
 beloved, my heart will have ceased to 
 beat ; I embraced you yesterday for the 
 last time. 
 
 "The terrible resolution I am going 
 to accomplish, is not caused solely by 
 the generous motive to which you will 
 attribute it. As a dying woman, I come 
 to confess all to you. Be merciful, as I 
 trust God will be to me, for if I did evil, 
 I did it from inexperience and want of 
 reflection. 
 
 " I never knew my mother. My 
 father was among the first who emi- 
 grated from his country, and it was 
 afterwards known that he died abroad ; 
 he left me to the care of the man who 
 now persecutes us. Instead of compas- 
 sionating my youth and innocence, this 
 man, from an early period, destined me 
 to perform an infamous part, and he 
 was but too well seconded in his guilty 
 designs, by the woman to whom he con- 
 fided my education. 
 
 " Brought up in idleness and ideas of 
 luxury, you were the first person per- 
 haps, you will remember the evening 
 that I had heard mention the honourable 
 resources, which a woman might find in 
 her own exertions ; before, it had been 
 impressed on me, that opulent depravity 
 or abject misery was her only alterna- 
 tive. 
 
 " Oh ! how horrible it is to make the 
 avowal ; but when I became acquainted 
 f> .with you, I was already a fallen crea- 
 te , . , 
 
 ture. Still, remember many things which 
 may in some degree serve as my excuse 
 for having deceived you. 
 
 " My seducer was continually speak- 
 ing to me of a husband, partly in the 
 interest of his own pleasures, always 
 troubled and uneasy, partly for another 
 reason, which I have never been able to 
 penetrate. You were presented to me 
 as an adventurer, undeserving the es- 
 teem of a virtuous woman ; in that case, 
 we were well matched. Besides, we were 
 not to live together. I consented to our 
 union. 
 
 "In a short time, I learned to know 
 your worth, and then I did more than 
 esteem, I loved you ; but in proportion 
 as your influence over my heart in- 
 creased, the more unworthy 1 felt to bear 
 your name. 
 
 "My struggles were not unobserved 
 by you, and evdn. the day before the 
 wedding, I had? resolved to tell you all ; 
 but menaced by the people in whose 
 power I was, withheld by my own heart, 
 which seemed to break at the thought 
 of separating from you for ever, by losing 
 your esteem, I made a base compromise 
 with my conscience, and persuaded my- 
 self, that by the most devoted affection I 
 might retrieve my shame. 
 
 " I had no merit in keeping myself 
 faithful to you; I loved you with my 
 whole soul ; you had made me a new 
 creature. I should even have rejoiced at 
 the persecution to which I was almost im- 
 mediately exposed, as proving the invin- 
 cible strength of my resolution, had not 
 my resistance affected your interests. 
 The unexpected violence that was exer- 
 cised against you, showed me the wicked- 
 ness of our enemies, and also how vain 
 were the hopes I had conceived, that 
 with time everything might be arranged. 
 
 " On the second day of your captivity, 
 the doctor declared, that, if it were pro- 
 longed, your reason or your life would 
 be the sacrifice. I felt, I must save you 
 at any price. After another useless at- 
 tempt, I saw that I had no resource but 
 one that of appeasing our persecutor 
 on his own conditions ; but once a guilty 
 wife, I could not live. 'Be it so,' I 
 said ; ' I will be his, since such is my 
 cruel destiny ; but Death shall be pre- 
 sent at our meeting.' 
 
 " Do not pity me, my love ; I had ac- 
 quired the mournful certainty, that our 
 happiness had no solid foundation. My 
 secret might escape me at any moment ; 
 those to whom it was known, might re- 
 veal it to you, as they once threatened ; 
 and from some bitter words that you
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CSIME. 
 
 81 
 
 let fall, I perceived, that, though, you 
 were not aware of everything, you al- 
 ready regretted a marriage which had- 
 so soon cost you your liberty. 
 
 " Tormented by remorse, having lost 
 the hope of making you happy, as I had 
 thought to do, you see, I must die ; 
 and it is best so. Besides, this sacri- 
 fice restores me in my own esteem. I 
 am not then quite lost, if I am per- 
 mitted to die for you. They will not 
 set you free till to-morrow, and to- 
 morrow I shall not be with you, for the 
 poison will soon begin its work. A 
 friend will do what I cannot, and will 
 
 11 
 
 give you this letter ; perhaps, when you 
 read it, you will not refuse to believe 
 that I loved you truly ! 
 
 " Yes, I loved you, my dearest hus- 
 band, and now, when I am about to 
 finish with life, my heart leaps towards 
 you ; you were my first and only love, 
 and my last thought shall be yours. 
 liut I feel my courage fails, whilst I 
 talk with you, and presently I shall 
 need it all to die ; and, what is worse, 
 to go with death already in my veins, 
 to meet the man who has my promise, 
 and is now waiting for me. 
 
 " Adieu, therefore, dear love ; do not
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OB, 
 
 seek to revenge my death ; you are 
 poor and friendless in the world, and 
 your enemy is rich and powerful. Only 
 think sometimes of poor Esther, and 
 oh ! not to curse her memory ; for, if 
 she deceived you, you see how she 
 punishes herself for it. So young, and 
 to die ! 'Adieu, adieu for ever !" 
 
 Here the poor young creature's forti- 
 tude had failed ; the scarcely legible 
 writing, the traces of abundant tears, 
 all testified to the rude struggle she had 
 sustained with the instinct of self-pre- 
 servation. But a little after, she had 
 recovered her calmness, and had con- 
 tinued her letter in a firmer hand : 
 
 " Who will care for my funeral ? 
 you, or strangers ? I should have liked 
 so much to be buried in my wedding- 
 clothes, which I left in the house of the 
 Allee des Veuves ! But I am doomed 
 to disappointment, and even this may 
 not be." 
 
 When Chevillard read this mournful 
 farewell, he was less affected by the 
 revelation which appeared most likely 
 to interest his self-love, than by the 
 passage in which Esther intimated", that 
 her fatal resolution had taken its rise 
 from the imprudent sally of regret, into 
 which he had launched respecting their 
 marriage. Was not this a proof, that, 
 under a certain levity of manner, 
 he had yet retained a truly generous 
 nature ? 
 
 " O God! O God!" said he, sobbing; 
 "it is I, who am the cause of her 
 death !" 
 
 And, as a great sorrow leaves no 
 room for petty calculations of vanity, 
 he gave the sad memorial to his friend 
 to read, heedless of the ridicule he 
 might incur, as a husband deceived be- 
 fore his marriage. 
 
 " See," he exclaimed, " what a trea- 
 sure she was, what a heart I have lost!" 
 
 " Yes," replied his friend, after read- 
 ing it, " she was a noble woman; but 
 she is right ; there was little chance of 
 happiness in your union, and this 
 thought should tend to console you." 
 
 " Come," said Chevillard, " come and 
 see, how, in everything, our hearts 
 sympathised !" 
 
 He conducted his friend to the cham- 
 ber of death, and showed him how his 
 grief had divined and executed before- 
 hand, the last wishes of the lifeless bride. 
 But the awful stamp with which death 
 marks those that are his, was now fright- 
 fully apparent, and the young clerk 
 forced his friend away from the cruel 
 spectacle. He then asked him, if he 
 
 had been able to think of the necessary 
 arrangements for the last sad offices. 
 Nothing had been as yet attended to, 
 and the friendly questioner having re- 
 ceived instructions to order a decent 
 but plain funeral, immediately went to 
 put them into execution. He soon re- 
 turned, and remained with the afflicted 
 husband for the rest of the day, exert- 
 ing himself to the utmost to prevent 
 his giving way to despair. By gentle 
 violence or ingenious address, he kept 
 from him many of the sad details which 
 precede the last separation from those 
 we love, and thus many heart-rend- 
 ing scenes were spared the unhappy 
 Chevillard. 
 
 The doctor, who had accompanied the 
 magistrate when he came to verify the 
 decease, was struck by the rapid change 
 the poison had effected. He had in 
 consequence ordered the interment to 
 take place the same day, before the 
 twenty-four hours required by law. 
 
 About three o'clock in the afternoon, 
 a mean hearse, attended only by two 
 young men, took its way towards the 
 church of Saint-Peter at Chaillot. In- 
 formed of the motives for the suicide, 
 the clergy did not refuse their prayers 
 for the martyr-wife ; the clergy was 
 then tolerant, it had just escaped from 
 persecution. The funeral-car then fol- 
 lowed the line of the outer boulevards, 
 and proceeded slowly towards the 
 northern cemetery,* where it arrived at 
 the decline of day. The winter's sun 
 was setting, and its last rays tinged the 
 misty atmosphere Avith purple. Such 
 was all the pomp at that dreary funeral ; 
 and there too friends and relations were 
 wanting, as, a few short weeks before, 
 they had been wanting at the nuptial 
 benediction of the deserted child, the 
 victim of seduction and treachery. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 WHEX the last duties had been paid 
 to the unfortunate Esther, Chevillard 
 wished to bid his friend good-bye, but 
 the latter would not consent to this, 
 and, notwithstanding some slight re- 
 sistance, took him to his own rooms, 
 and persuaded him to remain the night. 
 The next morning, he appeared more 
 calm, and his host profited by this dis- 
 position of mind, to give him some 
 excellent advice as for example, to 
 divert his grief by looking out for some 
 employment ; he even hinted at the 
 possibility of resuming his former situa- 
 * That of Montmartre.
 
 THE MYSTEKY OF CHIME. 
 
 83 
 
 tion at Mademoiselle Lebeau's, offering, 
 if agreeable, to undertake the negotia- 
 tion of that business. Chevillard mani- 
 fested neither approbation nor impati- 
 ence at this overture ; he merely asked 
 for a few days' delay ; but his mind was 
 full of other thoughts, and, as soon as 
 he could elude his friend's officious 
 care, he stole away from his irksome 
 hospitality. 
 
 He thirsted furiously for revenge ; 
 but he felt, that, to secure the punish- 
 ment of the guilty parties, he must pro- 
 ceed with calmness and some degree 
 of method. Before all things too, he 
 wished to clear up a fact as yet unex- 
 plained. Whose benevolent interference 
 had released him from prison? and it 
 was not curiosity alone that gave him 
 so much interest in the question. Sup- 
 posing that Morizot or Legros had by 
 chance committed this good action, in 
 the reckoning he had to demand from 
 them, he must evidently set it down to 
 their account. He accordingly repaired 
 to Sainte-Pelagie, to make inquiries of 
 the clerk attached to the prison. 
 
 Notwithstanding the promise he had 
 given Mademoiselle Lebeau, to keep 
 her kindness secret, this functionary 
 made no great difficulty in furnishing 
 the most particular description of the 
 young lady who came to discharge the 
 debt. From the account he thus re- 
 ceived, Chevillard could not fail to re- 
 cognise his former employer, arid, whilst 
 the esteem and gratitude with which he 
 already regarded her were thus in- 
 creased, he saw with some satisfaction, 
 that he need not abate in his hatred 
 and resentment towards others. But 
 now another question arose. The sum 
 that Morizot had sent to Esther, had 
 remained in his possession; ought he 
 to employ it in discharging his obliga- 
 tions to Mademoiselle Lebeau, or restore 
 it to its just owner? There was, how- 
 ever, but a transitory doubt on the sub- 
 ject in his mind. It came from an im- 
 pure source, it was the price of innocent 
 blood ; such money could not be ac- 
 cepted by him, nor emploved to dis- 
 charge so sacred a debt. It must be 
 sent back with contempt to the traf- 
 ficker in Ms conjugal honour ; or (as it 
 afterwards struck him) to carry in per- 
 son to the murderer Ms horrid gift, to 
 throw it insultingly in his face, and 
 provoke him at the same time to a 
 meeting, in which one of the two must 
 lose his life, would be the best plan of 
 vengeance possible for him to adopt. 
 If he perished in the struggle, all was 
 
 over ; if on the contrary he triumphed, 
 he would proceed another step in his 
 retributive justice, and, after chastisin 
 the head in Morizot, he would strike the 
 arm and instrument in Legros. As for 
 Madame de Saint-Martin, she had with 
 him attended upon the victim ; he avould 
 leave her unmolested to her own re- 
 morseful feelings. 
 
 Having come to this decision, Che- 
 villard returned to the lodging in the 
 Rue Copeau, where he allowed it to be 
 thought that his wife had gone on a 
 journey. Although he felt a strong 
 desire to go and thank Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, yet at the moment of risking 
 his life, any engagement he might enter 
 into with her, respecting the money she 
 had so generously advanced, would be 
 a hollow mockery ; and, all things con- 
 sidered, he thought there would be 
 more nobleness of mind since his evil 
 fortune imposed so painful an alterna- 
 tive in accepting the advance as a 
 charity, than in acknowledging it as a 
 debt, when he had the full conscious- 
 ness of his insolvency. But, in return 
 for the deep interest she had shown for 
 his misfortunes, he owed her an unre- 
 served confidence, particularly as he 
 was ignorant how far and in what man- 
 ner she had been informed of them. 
 He therefore wrote her a long letter, in 
 which, though he kept back certain de- 
 tails, he related all the bitter disappoint- 
 ments of his unfortunate marriage. He 
 finished by stating, " that, being on 
 the point of undertaking a perilous 
 journey, he had at present no certainty 
 of being able to discharge the obliga- 
 tions he had contracted ; but, if he 
 escaped the dangers to which he should 
 be exposed, he regarded this as a most 
 sacred debt, and, wMlst his gratitude 
 to her would be eternal, he should have 
 no rest till he had paid the money so 
 generously advanced." 
 
 Having written tMs letter, Chevillard 
 judged, that the time had not yet come 
 to send it, as the events to which he 
 alluded were not entirely dependent on 
 his will, and might possibly not be rea- 
 lised. He placed it therefore in his 
 pocket-book, intending to drop it into 
 the post, a few hours before the time 
 fixed for his meeting with Morizot. 
 The presence of mind shown in these 
 arrangements, proved the firmness of 
 the young man's resolution, and accord- 
 ingly he now, without further delay, 
 directed his steps to the Rue de Pro- 
 vence, where Morizot's sumptuous man- 
 sion was situated.
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 A great disappointment awaited him, 
 which at the same time explained the 
 unforeseen presence of the Saint-Martin 
 at the Alice des Veuves. 
 
 In the afternoon of the day on which 
 the commissary had appointed to meet 
 Esther, he had been obliged to start, 
 quite unexpectedly, on a journey. He 
 had left at five o'clock in a post-chaise, 
 without saying where he was going, or 
 how long he should be absent, but it 
 was supposed it would not be for a great 
 while. Nothing seemed to prosper with 
 the unlucky Chevillard, not even the 
 design of hazarding his life ; but his 
 eager resentment would take no denial. 
 As the master had escaped for the pre- 
 sent, he resolved to wreak his ven- 
 geance on the confidant, and immedi- 
 ately proceeded to Legros' house. In 
 the true spirit of retributive justice, he 
 thought that, after all, this wretch had 
 perhaps the best right to a priority of 
 punishment, as he had been the first to 
 draw him into the snare. But on 
 arriving at the Rue des Moulins, there 
 was a fresh disappointment. He was 
 told by the servant, that her master and 
 mistress (the Saint-Martin, apparently, 
 who must have come, as it seemed, to 
 lodge with the law-agent) had left that 
 morning for the country. She could 
 not say where they were gone, or how 
 long they intended to stay, because they 
 had left no word on the subject. 
 
 Thus Chevillard's evil star was still 
 in the ascendant. Either by chance or 
 prudence, the unworthy adversary he 
 made sure of, had likewise escaped him, 
 and for an indefinite time the cup of 
 his wrath must remain full, without the 
 possibility of overflowing. It is not 
 true, that, by the side of great afflic- 
 tions, secondary vexations are eclipsed 
 and disregarded ; far from it, they 
 irritate and embitter still further the 
 wounded feelings of the sufferer, and 
 are to be lamented as destroying the 
 cold resignation of sorrow, and thus de- 
 priving it of dignity. Left to muse 
 over his baffled vengeance, not knowing 
 whom or where to strike, Chevillard 
 felt the cold and energetic despair, 
 which had till then sustained him, give 
 way to a species of frenzy. During the 
 rest of the day, he wandered about 
 Paris, sometimes walking straight on- 
 wards like a maniac, heedless of every- 
 thing that was passing around him ; at 
 another, talking aloud with animated 
 gestures. At length, harassed Avith 
 fatigue, and faint for want of food, for 
 he had taken nothing since the morning, 
 
 he went back to his dwelling, .where he 
 passed a miserable night, unable to 
 sleep, and consumed by a burning fever, 
 which filled his brain with funereal 
 visions and horrible hallucinations. 
 Towards morning, he became more 
 calm, for he hoped that one of the 
 wretches whose life he sought might 
 have returned home, and he went once 
 more to inquire for them ; but neither 
 of them had reappeared. A pious 
 thought preserved him from a fresh 
 attack of the furious delirium of yester- 
 day : he resolved to visit Esther's grave, 
 and, notwithstanding the extreme ri- 
 gour of the season, passed the greater 
 part of the day in the cemetery, ab- 
 sorbed in grief and tender recollec- 
 tions. 
 
 In some degree relieved by the abun- 
 dant tears he had shed, he felt more 
 composed, and set out to seek his friend 
 the young clerk, for his conscience re- 
 proached him with having so abruptly 
 left his hospitable roof. He passed a 
 church on his road thither ; and, as 
 grief is naturally religious, he entered 
 the holy place, prayed fervently for 
 some time, and felt comforted. 
 
 He arrived about the hour of dinner, 
 and was persuaded to take something, 
 and listen to some cheering intelligence. 
 His friend had heard of a situation that 
 morning, and had great hopes of 
 obtaining it for him. Chevillard warmly 
 thanked him, and seemed disposed to 
 profit by his kindness ; then the clerk, 
 who was a complete man of business, 
 went on to speak of the personal effects 
 Madame Chevillard might have left, and 
 asked the husband if he did not intend 
 to take some steps in the matter. Che- 
 villard replied, that nothing could be 
 more simple ; that his wife had no 
 portion, and that till she knew him she 
 had lived on the poisoned bounty of the 
 man she called her tutor, so that she 
 possessed nothing of her own. The 
 other objected, that Esther must at 
 least have had wearing-apparel belong- 
 ing to her, and that he would be a dupe 
 not to claim it. Chevillard agreed that 
 his friend was right, and promising to 
 attend to this little matter, soon after 
 took his leave. 
 
 When he was once more alone, the 
 conversation that had passed continued 
 to occupy him ; not that he was in the 
 least anxious about the trifling value a 
 few dresses and a small quantity of 
 linen could have in a material sense; 
 but he remembered, that Esther had 
 been obliged to quit the Allee des
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CHIME. 
 
 85 
 
 Veuves furtively, and had left behind a 
 number of things which she had in 
 daily use. He had seen these things 
 still in her room, when he sat watching 
 by her dead body, and the idea that 
 they were left in the hands of her exe- 
 cutioners, who might some day make a 
 sale of them, filled him with painful 
 emotion. The key that Morizot had 
 sent to the unfortunate wife on the day 
 of the assignation, had been found on 
 her, and was now in his possession, 
 and he immediately thought of using 
 it to obtain entrance into the deserted 
 house, that he might take away these 
 relics of one so dear to him. The ab- 
 sence of his enemies favoured the exe- 
 cution of this project, which proceeded, 
 let us once more assert, solely from a 
 refined sentiment of conjugal piety ; 
 but, as Chevillard had not the key 
 about his person, he returned to the 
 Rue Copeau to fetch it, and then set 
 out for the Champs -Elysees. 
 
 The lateness of the hour did not in- 
 duce him to defer his attempt ; on the 
 contrary, he was in no haste to arrive at 
 the end of his journey ; for he felt, that 
 to enter a house which was not his, in 
 the manner he proposed, to obtain pos- 
 session of effects which ought to be 
 legally conferred on him by the inter- 
 vention of the law, was not exactly a 
 regular proceeding ; and he liked better 
 to begin his enterprise in the silence 
 and solitude of night. It wanted there- 
 fore about a quarter to eleven, when, 
 provided with a tinder-box and his 
 pistols, he entered the gloomy avenue, 
 and approached the house. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 AT the moment when Chevillard was 
 going to put the key into the lock, the 
 steps of two persons advancing in that 
 direction fell upon his ear. As he could 
 not have opened the door, entered and 
 closed it again, before the two intruders 
 came up, he judged it would be more 
 prudent to wait till they were gone. 
 Not wishing to be seen, or his design 
 to be suspected, he left the spot, and 
 placed himself in ambuscade behind 
 the trunk of a tree close at hand, 
 which was large enough to conceal him 
 entirely. 
 
 The steps, meantime, had become 
 more distinct. Two days before, the 
 moon had shed her pale light over the 
 mournful scene we described. On this 
 night, she shone brilliantly in a clear 
 sky, and her rays fell so brightly 
 
 through the branches of the tall trees, 
 that Chevillard soon distinguished two 
 men, wrapped up in cloaks, advancing 
 rapidly towards the place where he 
 stood. When they arrived opposite to 
 the house, instead of pu-suing their 
 way, they stood still, looked carefully 
 round, as if to make sure they were 
 not followed, and then one of them 
 approached the door. He opened it 
 with a key, and, making his companion 
 pass in first, disappeared with him. 
 
 Chevillard was much vexed by this 
 singular coincidence of purpose. But 
 this was not all ; for, whilst the stran- 
 gers were entering in his stead, his 
 heart throbbed violently, as he thought 
 that in one of them he recognised Mo- 
 rizot. It would have been a vain task, 
 had he tried to resist the desire which 
 instantly seized him, to know what 
 these two men came to do, at such an 
 hour, in that deserted house. It was 
 not a fierce curiosity alone ; he was im- 
 pelled by a powerful and imperative 
 instinct, to learn the sequel of this mys- 
 terious adventure, in which it seemed 
 to him he was concerned. He cared 
 too little for life to be stopped by the 
 idea of danger, and, if he used some 
 precaution in effecting an entrance, it 
 was on account of the discovery he 
 wished to make, rather than on that of 
 his own safety. 
 
 He had opened the door very gently, 
 penetrated into the court-yard", and ad- 
 vanced to the entrance of the hall, with 
 noiseless steps ; he heard nothing, and 
 perceived -no light, so that the people he 
 wished to observe, were doubtless in 
 the principal apartment, which looked 
 upon the garden. As the localities 
 were familiar to him, he hastily struck 
 into a path which led round to the back 
 of the house, and saw from a distance 
 that the saloon was lighted up ; he 
 avoided the walks, for fear the noise of 
 the gravel crushing beneath his feet 
 might betray him, and advanced across 
 the beds as far as one of the windows, 
 through which the light gleamed. 
 There he stooped down, and, looking 
 through an opening that was left be- 
 tween two ill-closed curtains, he was 
 able to observe all that passed in the 
 apartment. 
 
 He had not been deceived. One of 
 those he had seen enter, was indeed the 
 commissary ; the other was a fine-look- 
 ing man of a very noble presence. He 
 wore powder, which at that period was 
 not yet regarded as singular, and ap- 
 peared to be from fifty-five to sixty
 
 86 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OK, 
 
 years of age. Through the closed win- 
 dows, and at that distance from the | 
 speakers, Chevillard could not distin- j 
 guish the sense of their words ; but the j 
 expressive gestures of the stranger were j 
 significant either of his gratitude for 
 some great service he had just received, j 
 or of his joy at finding himself in the : 
 company of Morizot. He took his | 
 hands, which he pressed warmly, and i 
 his whole countenance denoted affec- j 
 tionate kindness. Morizot, on the con- 
 trary, though he appeared to receive ! 
 these testimonies of ardent friendship ; 
 with great satisfaction, had the same 
 dark and gloomy look which had struck ! 
 Chevillard at their first interview, and j 
 it was the prejudice the young man 
 naturally felt against his enemy, that 
 doubtless made him fancy there was a 
 peculiarly sinister expression of face, 
 which would have made him hate and 
 mistrust the man, even if he saw him 
 for the first time. 
 
 Chevillard' s patience was put to a 
 severe trial ; he wished to see how all 
 this preamble would end, but for nearly 
 an hour nothing particular occurred ; 
 only the conversation, which was at 
 first very animated, began evidently to 
 languish. Indeed, the stranger ap- 
 peared to be struggling in vain against 
 a feeling of drowsiness, and his head 
 from time to time sank heavily upon his 
 breast. But suddenly, amid the pro- 
 found silence that reigned around, the 
 wutcher thought he heard two strokes 
 upon the outer door. At the same 
 time, Morizot arose, and taking from 
 the chimney the only taper that lighted 
 the apartment, went out hastily. In a 
 few moments he returned, and by the 
 red, uncertain light of the fire, Chevil- 
 lard saw him speak to the stranger in 
 an agitated manner ; the latter seemed 
 to share his emotion, and both hurried 
 from the room. Ere many seconds had 
 elapsed, a trampling of feet, followed 
 by a cry of agony ending in a death- 
 rattle, was heard behind the closed 
 door. 
 
 A silence of some duration, succeeded 
 this fatal sound, which conveyed un- 
 speakable terror to Chevillard's mind, 
 lie wished to rush to the assistance of 
 the person in distress, but he was fixed 
 to the spot, and his limbs were as if 
 paralysed ; besides, it was no longer 
 time, for the door of the saloon again 
 opened, and admitted first the Saint- 
 Martin holding the light in her hand, 
 and then Legros and the commissary, 
 arrying between them the body of the 
 
 stranger rolled in his cloak. Throwing 
 open the folds of this shroud, the mur- 
 derers placed their victim in an arm- 
 chair, just opposite to the window, 
 through which Chevillard coxdd behold 
 this horrid scene. The head of the 
 deceased was thrown back, his face was 
 pale, his eyes fixed and open, his arms 
 hung down by the side of the seat ; 
 altogether, he was one of the most 
 lamentable objects that human eye had 
 ever contemplated. His pock'ets were 
 carefully searched . by Legros, who 
 handed' over to the Saint-Martin the 
 purse, the handkerchief, and the jewels; 
 to Morizot, the papers and pocket-book ; 
 after which, on a sign from the latter, 
 the cloak was again thrown over the 
 bloody remains. 
 
 From the moment the death-cry had 
 struck his ear, Chevillard had lost all 
 self-possession ; weak-headed by nature, 
 and subjected for many successive days 
 to a series of terrible emotions, he had 
 received from this atrocious murder a 
 shock which affected his whole nervous 
 organisation. The sense of sight alone 
 remained perfect, and in that appeared 
 to be concentrated all his faculties. 
 The aspect of the corpse had exercised 
 a sort of fascination upon him, and now 
 that it was concealed, he fixed his eyes 
 upon the countenance of Morizot, the 
 chief actor in this frightful drama. 
 
 The extraordinary tension of nerve, 
 which had sustained the assassin in the 
 perpetration of the crime, was followed 
 by a violent reaction ; he sat silent and 
 gloomy, wiping away the large drops of 
 sweat that bedewed bis forehead. Sud- 
 denly, his look rested on the window, 
 from behind which Chevillard was 
 gazing at him ; he perceived that what 
 was passing might be seen from the 
 outside, through the interval between 
 the curtains, and, with a rapid move- 
 ment, he started forward to close them 
 hermetically. 
 
 His intention was misinterpreted by 
 Chevillard; he thought he was dis- 
 covered, and his brain, already weak- 
 ened by so many shocks, was completely 
 upset ; lifted as it were, by his emotion,' 
 he started up, and under the impression 
 of his imaginary danger, rushed through 
 the garden with a sort of mechanical 
 rapidity. He climbed the wall by 
 means of some lattice-work, but, per- 
 suaded that he was pursued, and fear 
 lending him superhuman strength, he 
 continued to run for a long time, un- 
 checked by the obstacles that presented 
 themselves. At last, he fell in with a
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CEIHE. 
 
 87 
 
 night -patrol that was silently traversing 
 the streets of Chaillot, and to the ques- 
 tions that were urged upon him, he 
 could only answer in the accents of 
 terror, and like a -wretched maniac, 
 such as he had now become : " He has 
 his dagger, he pursues me ! here he is, 
 here he is save me !" 
 
 It is here, as the reader may perceive, 
 that we rejoin the series of events given 
 in the prologue to this history. 
 
 The murdered stranger, the mystifi- 
 cation of the blind men, the madman 
 arrested on the same night, all is now 
 explained, and found to be closely con- 
 nected. The letter addressed to Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau was discovered upon 
 Chevillard, and the explanations it con- 
 tained, confirmed by the mistress of the 
 Tricoloured Prism, completely misled 
 the ofiicers of justice ; and these two 
 facts (so strictly united) were thus con- 
 sidered to be perfectly distinct. 
 
 Now, what interest had caused this 
 crime to be committed, who was the 
 victim, and what was the final issue of 
 this dark and bloody mystery ? This is 
 what our readers will learn from the 
 second part, if they will but take the 
 trouble to peruse it. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OFFEXBVRG is a small town in the 
 grand-duchy of Baden, situated beyond 
 the Rhine, at a little distance from the 
 French frontier. At the beginning of 
 the year 1804, it was one of the centres 
 of those royalist intrigues, which, under 
 the patronage of England, caused so 
 much uneasiness to the Consular go- 
 vernment. An insurrectionary com- 
 mittee was organised Avithin its walls, 
 and a number of emigrants, officers 
 from the army of Conde, and conspiracy 
 agents, met there daily. This state of 
 affairs was likely in the long run to 
 compromise the sovereign of the country, 
 the Elector of Baden, who, two months 
 later, saw his .territory cavalierly in- 
 vaded, when, by a bold stroke of policy, 
 the Duke d'Eiighien and several mem- 
 bers of the Offenburg Committee were 
 seized at Ettenheim ; but, in the mean- 
 time, it marvellously answered the pur- 
 pose of Master Schmidt, the landlord of 
 the Golden Lamb, for the constant influx 
 of strangers into the town kept his 
 house well filled. 
 
 One evening, about a fortnight after 
 
 the occurrence of the events we have 
 related in the first part of this history, 
 Master Schmidt had just dismissed 
 with all possible civility some travellers, 
 whom he could not find means to ac- 
 commodate, when a young man, in 
 travelling costume, entered the public 
 room ; he walked up to the landlord, 
 and shaking hands with the air of an 
 old acquaintance : " Ah ! good evening, 
 Daddy Schmidt," said this riew-comer ; 
 " how do you get on r" 
 
 " Thank ye, Mr. Chabouillant, not so 
 bad, not so bad and your" replied 
 mine host, with a sort of constraint in 
 his manner. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm as sound as the Pont- 
 Neuf at Paris ; but I've had a famously 
 fatiguing journey to-day, and I mean to 
 sleep like a top, in the snug nest you'll 
 have got ready for me." 
 
 " You want a room, I see that plain 
 enough," said the host ; " but there's 
 a difficulty in the way, I must tell 
 you." 
 
 " Difficulty ! don't know such a 
 word," returned the other; "it's not 
 French!" 
 
 " But it's German, and means I can't 
 give you a bed this evening, because 
 there's not one unoccupied." 
 
 " Allow me ; I am Joseph Chabouil- 
 lant, traveller in the mercery line, 
 whose custom and usage it has been, 
 from time immemorial, to stop, going 
 and coming, at the sign of the Golden 
 Lamb, consuming, I may say, a pretty 
 considerable quantity of prog, and hav- 
 ing never on any occasion asked for an 
 hour's credit." 
 
 " You fill me with regret, my good 
 sir, when you remind me of your claims 
 to a distinguished and cordial welcome ; 
 but, upon my word, I have not a corner 
 that I could offer you." 
 
 " "Very well, my dear fellow!" re- 
 plied Chabouillant, with great coolness. 
 " The hotel of the Palatinate is at the 
 other end of the street ; I will see if 
 travellers are not better received there." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, that's just the thing," 
 said the host, rejoiced at getting off so 
 cheaply ; "be unfaithful to me for 
 once, and I promise you that next time 
 
 " No, no!" interrupted Chabouillant, 
 " I don't fly from fair to fair in that 
 way ; when I am well received in any 
 place, I return to it. I am like the ivy ; 
 where I have fixed myself, I perish !" 
 
 The commercial traveller was, in. 
 point of fact, an excellent customer ; 
 the unlucky innkeeper, finding himseli
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OR, 
 
 menaced with the loss of his patronage, 
 entered into the most detailed account 
 of the circumstances that dictated his 
 refusal. He urged, that, as it was 
 forced on him by necessity, he ought 
 not to be punished by the total desertion 
 of his guest ; but the commercial tra- 
 veller was inflexible, and quietly re- 
 sumed his cloak and portmanteau. 
 
 " Come," said Master Schmidt, " will 
 you listen to a proposal, which will 
 prove to you my goodwill and attach- 
 ment?" 
 
 " Speak, landlord; I listen." 
 
 " Do you snore at night?" 
 
 "I!" said Chabouillant; "do you 
 take me for a humming-top ?" 
 
 " Xo; but I ask you whether you 
 sleep quietly, and do not start and call 
 out ; in short, whether you may be 
 trusted?" 
 
 " My dear fellow, I never saw myself 
 asleep ; but I should imagine that, to- 
 night at least, my slumbers will be those 
 of innocence." 
 
 " Well, this it is. You know the 
 little pleasure-house at the end of the 
 garden ?" 
 
 "Perfectly!" replied Chabouillant; 
 " I ask for no more ; that will be just 
 the thing." 
 
 " Yes, but the said house is occupied. 
 I have let it to two of your country- 
 people, husband and wife, who I sus- 
 pect to be agents for the English go- 
 vernment, and persons of superior con- 
 dition for they do not mix with the 
 other emigrants, fetch their letters 
 themselves from the post-office, and 
 live shut up like bears." 
 
 " From which you conclude " 
 
 said the guest. 
 
 " I conclude, that the two rooms are 
 occupied ; but there is a little closet at 
 the back, fit for a servant, and I might 
 be able to settle you there, if you will 
 put up with it." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Chabouillant. 
 
 " But if I do, you must promise to 
 be very careful, and not make the least 
 noise that may betray your presence ; 
 for these people inquired if I meant to 
 let this little place, which is separated 
 from them only by a slight partition, 
 and pay me for it as if they occupied it." 
 
 " A newly-married pair?" asked the 
 traveller. 
 
 " No, middle-aged people," returned 
 mine host. 
 
 " Well, let us have the closet." 
 
 " But you must sup, now I think of 
 it ; and, during that time, my lodgers 
 (who are out) may return." 
 
 " Not at all, I am as full as a sack. 
 I have been at work at the house of one 
 of our clients, in such style, that I shall 
 not want to feed for the next three days. 
 Only get me a glass of punch, and 
 show me the way to bed." 
 
 The innkeeper threw a pair of sheets 
 over his arm, and went himself to pre- 
 pare Chabouillant' s bed, as a degree of 
 prudent caution was necessary ; half an 
 hour later, our old acquaintance was 
 sleeping like a lord. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CHABOUILLAXT had finished his first 
 sleep, when his neighbours, who, con- 
 trary to their usual custom, had been 
 out late, apprised him of their presence 
 by the sounds of an animated conversa- 
 tion. It was carried on in a very high 
 key, particularly on the lady's side ; so 
 that the traveller could not help hearing 
 the whole of it. The couple decidedly 
 appeared to be quarrelling, for a female 
 voice exclaimed : " Xo, I tell you again, 
 nothing shall persuade me to return to 
 France ; for I do not even consider my- 
 self as safe here, on the frontier, where 
 you will persist in remaining." 
 
 " But," answered the husband, " when 
 we are told that everything is quiet and 
 forgotten " 
 
 " Xonsense ! such things may sleep 
 for fifteen years, and then, all of a sud- 
 den, the mine may be sprung." 
 
 " But now, where do you think the 
 danger can come from ? Esther is dead, 
 Chevillard has gone mad, and that 
 unlucky incident of the assignation 
 given by Morizot, did not raise the least 
 suspicion." 
 
 At the name of Chevillard, Chabouil- 
 lant's attention was naturally aroused, 
 and it redoubled, when the woman re- 
 sumed : " That may bs, but I don't 
 trust to all this. I have always before 
 me that unfortunate man falling by 
 Morizot's dagger. To murder an old 
 friend in that manner is horrible !" 
 
 " If you were to say so for ever," 
 returned the husband, " I should repeat, 
 that this crime was almost unavoidable, 
 though I disapproved of it at the time, 
 and dislike bloodshed. Instead of being 
 dead, as was always supposed, our con- 
 founded master writes one fine morning 
 to Morizot, from the Rhenish frontier, 
 to say that he should have already re- 
 entered France, if he had been sure his 
 name was erased from the list of emi- 
 grants. Now, when his fortune became 
 national property, Morizot monopolised
 
 
 it ; so he was obliged to adopt some ex- 
 pedient." 
 
 " A fine expedient, truly !" said the 
 woman, contemptuously. 
 
 " 1 confess it was a harsh measure, 
 but it was cleverly conceived, and car- 
 ried through with the hand of a master. 
 As soon as Morizot received De Bre- 
 vannes' letter, he got into a post-chaise, 
 and in forty hours he was at the fron- 
 tier ; the marquis crossed it, by passing 
 as his servant. On his arrival in Paris, 
 before he had time to see a living soul, 
 and on the pretext of being in a safe 
 asylum till his position was legalised, 
 
 1-2 
 
 the said marquis is taken to his former 
 petite maison, in the Alice des Veuves, 
 a place cut out for the express purpose 
 and there he is quieted in a twinkling. 
 If that is not rigorous honesty, you 
 must confess it is skill and resolu- 
 tion." 
 
 " "Why did he not execute his pur- 
 pose by himself? There was no neces- 
 sity to send for us to assist at the mur- 
 der, and thus make us his accomplices, 
 when he alone did the deed !" 
 
 " Hang it ! it was a good thought to 
 have us with him, for he would have 
 been finely puzzled to get rid of the
 
 90 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 gentleman ; and had it not been for my 
 bright idea of making use of those ho- 
 nest blind men, that were sent to us by 
 Providence, I don't know how the mat- 
 ter would have ended." 
 
 " Ah ! that's just Jike you. If you 
 have an opportunity to display your 
 resources and talent for intrigue, you 
 make up your mind to anything. I do 
 believe, you would mix yourself up in 
 the worst affairs, which did not concern 
 you in the least, merely to show your 
 abilities." 
 
 "But I beg your pardon ; the affair 
 did concern us, and deeply too. Bre- 
 vannes could only demand from Mori- 
 zot an account of his fortune, and of 
 Esther's portion, which our worthy 
 friend had made so free with ; but the 
 girl's seduction we had to answer for, 
 and we were too deep in the mire not 
 to be glad to get rid of the marquis." 
 
 " You should not have given credit 
 so easily, to the report of his death." 
 
 " Who would not have credited it ? 
 The first account of it was received 
 fourteen years ago, and since then it 
 has been confirmed twenty times. Two 
 months since, a rumour was afloat that 
 the deceased still lived; we immediately 
 provided for that which was most ur- 
 gent, by marrying the girl to Chevillard, 
 and I will say that the affair of the 
 marriage was skilfully combined." 
 
 " Yes, and that odious Morizot spoilt 
 everything by his passion for Esther, 
 and forced her to commit suicide by his 
 importunities. And then what a mean 
 wretch ! after Esther left, not to give 
 us the house in the Allee des Veuves, 
 though he always promised it to me." 
 
 " But you see, my dear, he wanted 
 it ; it was deucedly useful to him !" 
 
 " And you, what have you ever got 
 out of this miser, for being his devoted 
 slave so long? All his scurvy affairs, 
 his usuries, his stock-jobbing with the 
 property of the emigrants, you took 
 charge of them, even as I engaged to 
 train that unfortunate creature to his 
 will ; and now, when, having become 
 the accomplices of his last crime, our 
 safety obliges us to leave France, he 
 dismisses us with a paltry ten thousand 
 francs, whilst he is worth millions." 
 
 " But he is a man skilful in business, 
 and of astonishing abilities, for whom I 
 feel great admiration. That is how he 
 has acquired such an ascendancy over 
 me ; and then, what would you have ! 
 he has always had the largest share in 
 all our transactions and schemes, but 
 remember from whence each of us 
 
 started. You kept the porter's lodge, 
 at the pleasure-house of the marquis ; 
 I was his valet, and Morizot his stew- 
 ard : the latter had naturally the most 
 of the spoil. Besides, he entered the 
 store- department, and was successful." 
 
 " Do revolutions take place then for 
 some to have all, and others nothing :" 
 said the woman, with amusing gravity. 
 " Why should he be better off than 
 you are : Are you not as good as he r" 
 
 " In some respects, I know I am 
 superior to him. 1 have more cunning, 
 more resources ; but he has more bold- 
 ness and resolution. Do not deceive 
 yourself; he is a profound politician 
 a man who follows the end he has pro- 
 posed to himself, without heeding the 
 obstacles that may be in the way. I 
 am a sort of Figaro, he is a man of 
 genius. The truth must be confessed." 
 
 "Hold your tongue! he is a villain, 
 and nothing more a man capable of 
 ruining us if it served his interest, and 
 that is why I don't mean to risk myself 
 in France, in spite of his friendly invita- 
 tion for us to rejoin him." 
 
 " My dear, you are very dull to-day," 
 replied the husband. " Do you not 
 perceive, that our position with Morizoc 
 has never been better ? The crime, 
 which we have in our keeping, is a piece 
 of good fortune ; we have our good 
 friend in check without his suspecting 
 it, and don't think I mean to be duped 
 for ever." 
 
 " Well ! those are the only reasonable 
 words you have spoken as yet ; not but 
 what I should be as well pleased if his 
 crime were his sole property, because I 
 am sure, that, sooner or later, it will 
 bring us into some mess with the law." 
 
 " Make yourself quite easy ; the police 
 have other things to do than to hunt out 
 the murderers of a poor devil, whom no 
 one recognized, and whose family is 
 extinct. You see what is taking place 
 here, and what the English government 
 and the royalists are preparing for the 
 First-Consul ; that now occupies all our 
 official people, and no one thinks of us, 
 you may depend upon it !" 
 
 " You will always be in the right," 
 said the woman ; " but I shall not sleep 
 more quietly to-night than I have done 
 lately ; I see either the marquis covered 
 with blood, or his unhappy daughter, 
 continually in my dreams." 
 
 " Y'ou are a child," returned her 
 husband ; " I shall write to-morrow to 
 Morizot, who cannot do without me, aiid 
 make my own conditions. But whatever 
 you may say, we will not stay here
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 91 
 
 long ; my career lies in. France, and my 
 fortune is only begun." 
 
 Whilst listening to this conversation, 
 full of horrid revelations, Chabouillant 
 greatly regretted that the darkness 
 would not allow him to assist his 
 memory by taking notes ; for the name 
 of Chevillard, which had been several 
 times mentioned, gave him food for 
 reflection, when he remembered his 
 friend's simplicity, and the disreputable 
 place in which he had last left him. To 
 supply in some degree the want of 
 written memoranda, he employed him- 
 self during the rest of the night in fixing 
 firmly in his mind the principal circum- 
 stances, and the names of the actors in 
 the dismal drama which had been un- 
 folded to him, and, instead of sleeping 
 like a top (to use his own elegant expres- 
 sion), he waited impatiently for day, to 
 leave his bed-room, and enjoy the free use 
 of his liberty. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE next morning, having endeavoured 
 to avoid any noise that might betray 
 his presence in the cell into which, 
 he had been smuggled, the commercial 
 traveller went down to the public room, 
 and called for his breakfast. He com- 
 menced operations with his usual vigour, 
 and, while thus agreeably employed, the 
 innkeeper, who was acquainted with 
 Chabouillant's, monomania, after asking 
 him how he had passed the night, ob- 
 served : " Well, and the family r has it 
 been found this time?" 
 
 " Hum, hum !" replied the guest, " I 
 have acquired, during this journey, 
 information that makes me think I am 
 on the point of many great discoveries." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! well so much the 
 better," said Master Schmidt, " pro- 
 vided it will not keep you from coming 
 to see us now and then." 
 
 " On the contrary, I shall like moving 
 about better than ever," returned Cha- 
 bouillant. He soon after paid his ex- 
 penses, and, getting into a coach, started 
 for the French frontier, to proceed from 
 thence straight to Paris. 
 
 Whilst he is pursuing his journey, 
 we must beg the reader to accompany 
 us for a time to the establishment of the 
 Tricolmtred Prism. Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau was as yet scarcely recovered from 
 the shock which Chevillard's dreadful 
 calamity had occasioned her. The 
 letter addressed to her, and found in 
 the .pocket-book of the poor maniac, 
 contained a circumstantial but rather 
 
 confused account of the young man's 
 conjugal misfortunes, and the fair mercer 
 thought she perceived, that her hesita- 
 tion in complying with Esther's request, 
 had in some degree influenced the terri- 
 ble catastrophe. Although she had 
 redeemed, by her subsequent generous 
 determination, the error she had com- 
 mitted in the first instance, in following 
 a natural and excusable impulse, and 
 although the frightful calamity she de- 
 plored could not really be laid to her 
 charge, she had bitterly reproached her- 
 self for the mournful fate of the unhappy 
 wife. Like all elevated natures, who 
 think a great deal of the evil and never 
 of the good they may have done, the 
 fair mercer pictured to herself that 
 young and lovely woman, perishing in 
 the flower of her youth, for the want of 
 a little well-timed pity ; but she forgot 
 the motives that induced her to receive 
 her request so coldly, and the quick 
 repentance and weighty sacrifice which 
 had followed. It may readily be con- 
 ceived, that, in such a disposition of 
 mind, the possible consequences of 
 Chevillard's state as a widower never 
 occurred to Mademoiselle Lebeau. If 
 this even had been the case, she would 
 have repudiated the idea as a sacrilege ; 
 and, in the afflicted inmate of the hos- 
 pital at Charenton, she only saw an 
 unhappy being having a peculiar claim 
 to her care and compassion, and she 
 gave them to him fully and heartily, 
 without any personal or interested cal- 
 culation. 
 
 One Sunday, all the members of the 
 household, even the domestic servants, 
 had obtained permission to go out, and 
 the sorrowful young girl was sitting 
 quite alone, more than ever absorbed in 
 her thoughts and recollections, when, at 
 a late hour in the evening, she heard 
 the door-bell ring. Some one might 
 have forgotten to take a latch-key, so 
 she went to open the door without 
 hesitation ; but she feh a momentary 
 alarm, when she saw before her a man 
 wrapped in a cloak, which quite con- 
 cealed his face. She could not altogether 
 control her agitation. Fortunately, a 
 well-known voice soon reassured her : 
 " Do not be alarmed, mademoiselle," 
 said the man in the cloak, " I am Cha- 
 ttouillant." 
 
 " I confess you frightened me ; your 
 strange way of presenting yourself, and 
 the rather singular hour you have chosen 
 for the visit " 
 
 " You shall know, mademoiselle, the 
 reason of the mystery with which I sur-
 
 92 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 round myself; but I wish, to speak to 
 you in private, without witnesses." 
 
 " Come in, I am alone," replied Ma- 
 demoiselle Lebeau, who knew how to 
 keep people at their proper distance, 
 and therefore feared nothing from the 
 interview she thus granted. However, 
 she thought fit to receive her visitor in 
 the shop, which had not been heated on 
 that day, thinking that this might 
 abridge a conversation she did not wish 
 to prolong. 
 
 " First allow me, mademoiselle," said 
 Chabouillant, "to ask after the state of 
 your precious health." 
 
 " It is not very good ; I have not been 
 well for some time." 
 
 " In truth, I find you in a slight de 
 gree thinner and paler. Your are too 
 anxious, and have not assistance enough. 
 And Chevillard, how is her" added the 
 traveller, wishing to know if he whose 
 name was mixed up with the shocking 
 revelations at the Golden Lamb, were 
 the same Chevillard with whom he was 
 acquainted. If Mademoiselle Lebeau 
 could have guessed the terrible influence 
 that the commercial traveller had exer- 
 cised on the destiny of the poor madman, 
 she would have replied to his question 
 with the most severe reproaches, and 
 indignantly have dismissed him ; but 
 her former book-keeper, in the letter he 
 had written, did not confess the way in 
 which he had abused the confidence re- 
 posed in him, and, without stating how 
 he became acquainted with Legros, had 
 dated the commencement of his misfor- 
 tunes from his first fatal meeting with 
 that wretch. Chabouillant had appa- 
 rently no connexion therefore with this 
 sad story. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Chabouillant," said she, 
 " you do not know the dreadful calamity 
 that has befallen your friend !" 
 
 "What is the matter?" cried Cha- 
 bouillunt, with an anxious curiosity that 
 might pass for interest. 
 
 " The unfortunate is at Charenton ; he 
 is out of his mind." 
 
 "It is he," thought the traveller, 
 whilst he exclaimed aloud : " Good 
 heavens ! what do you tell me r" 
 
 " It is too true," resumed Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau ; " he was seized with 
 this terrible disease about a fortnight 
 ago." Then, taking care not to say any- 
 thing more than Chabouillant might 
 have learned in the commercial world, 
 where this adventure of the ex-book- 
 keeper was partly known and much 
 talked about, she related with tears in 
 her eyes the marriage and imprisonment 
 
 of Chevillard, the death of his wife, 
 and his own sad fate. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" said Chabouillant; 
 "I left him in the full vigour of youth 
 
 and health, and now just too as I 
 
 thought to enchant him with the good 
 news I had to tell !" 
 
 " Some good fortune has happened to 
 your" asked Mademoiselle Lebeau. 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; that ardour and fierce 
 longing for domestic joys, that has often 
 exposed me to the imputation of folly, 
 was simply an instinct; and, such as 
 you see me, I am on the point of laying 
 my hand on my family." 
 
 " Indeed !" said the young girl, with 
 a slight expression of incredulity. 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle, seriously ; I 
 have tracked out startling claims and 
 proofs ; only I shall greatly miss the as- 
 sistance of Chevillard, in the further 
 prosecution of my discoveries." 
 
 " How so ? How could he serve you 
 in a matter so purely personal :" 
 
 " Ah ! because there are persons, 
 whose interest it will be to thwart my 
 birthright ; and I shall have to sustain 
 a law-suit, a struggle, for which I 
 counted on the precious co-operation of 
 friendship." 
 
 " But I think a barrister would be of 
 more use to you than Mr. Chevillard, 
 who understood nothing about law- 
 affairs." 
 
 "Mademoiselle, you are ignorant of 
 the romantic and chimerical character 
 of my history ; my right is not doubtful, 
 it is as clear as daylight, but I have to 
 do with powerful opponents, who will 
 move heaven and earth to prevent me 
 from assuming my proper name, and if 
 I am not borne out by the kindness of a 
 friend, who, without in any way com- 
 mitting himself, would render me a 
 slight service, I cannot conceal from 
 you, that my life itself may be in 
 danger." 
 
 " You frighten me, my dear sir, and 
 it would be but reasonable to renounce 
 so perilous an enterprise." 
 
 " Oh ! I know perfectly well what I 
 am about, I can assure you, made- 
 moiselle ;' and when the sword has once 
 left the scabbard, I will fight to the 
 last." 
 
 " But tell me then, of what nature 
 was the assistance you expected from 
 Mr. Chevillard :" 
 
 " Is it with the intention of supplying 
 the place of my unfortunate friend, that 
 you ask the question?" demanded Cha- 
 bouillant, abmptly ; " for in fact, you 
 might do so without inconvenience."
 
 THE MYSTEKY OF CKJME. 
 
 93 
 
 " Before I can return any answer, I 
 must know what is the object of your 
 request." 
 
 " When I say you might, I mistake ; 
 you ought," returned the commercial 
 traveller, -with strong emphasis, " you 
 ought to -venture in my cause that 
 which Chevillard would not have failed 
 to do, for is it not true that you felt for 
 him an interest of a peculiar kind ? 
 Well ! you must know then, that my 
 triumph will be likewise his." 
 
 "Mr. Chabouillant," replied Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau, " allow me to tell you 
 that you are in a hazardous path. 
 When a man is governed by a fixed 
 idea, it often creates a dangerous ex- 
 citement, which may have the most 
 fatal results." 
 
 " In other words, Chevillard having 
 gone mad, you think it's contagious, and 
 that, like him, I had better pay a visit 
 to Charenton ; but if I were to tell you 
 that I know more of his history than 
 you do, and that the people who so 
 basely deceived him are among my 
 opponents, would you still think that 
 I am indulging in a dangerous aberra- 
 tion ?" 
 
 "Good heavens!" exclaimed Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau, clasping her hands ; 
 " it would be indeed a work of Pro- 
 vidence ; but what in fine do you re- 
 quire :" 
 
 " Nothing can be more simple," re- 
 plied Chabouillant, with an air of mys- 
 tery ; "I have here," and he took from 
 his pocket a small box securely locked, 
 "all the proofs necessary to legalize 
 myself." 
 
 " Indeed !" said the fair mercer. 
 
 "My opponents have the strongest 
 interest to get possession of these papers, 
 and they would not stand at murder to 
 obtain them." 
 
 " Oh, horrible !" cried Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau. 
 
 "This box must therefore be de- 
 posited in a secure place, and then I 
 can inform my respectable adversaries, 
 that it is impossible for them to ex- 
 tract it from me, and that, if any out- 
 rage were committed against my person, 
 justice would be immediately informed 
 of it." 
 
 " Then you would wish me to take 
 charge of this?" 
 
 " Yes, as Chevillard would have done ; 
 and I again assure you, on my honour, 
 that his interests are here connected 
 with mine." 
 
 " Give it to me," said Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, overlooking the mystery at- 
 
 tached to the service demanded of her, 
 in consideration of its affecting in some 
 degree Chevillard's interests ; " and 
 now, what else is to be done?" asked 
 she. 
 
 " Nothing ; put this deposit away 
 somewhere, and let no one breathing 
 suspect its existence. I will come here 
 from time to time, with all necessary 
 precaution, to inform you how I am pro- 
 gressing; but if, during a fortnight 
 from to-day, I were not either to come 
 or write, then force the lock, and having 
 read the enclosed papers, you will see 
 what must be done to avenge Chevillard 
 and me." 
 
 " Certainly, this is a simple request," 
 said Mademoiselle Lebeau ; " and yet 
 I feel quite frightened at all this se- 
 crecy." 
 
 " It is the effect of mystery," replied 
 Chabouillant, with the a'ir of a profound 
 moralist ; " it always strikes the imagi- 
 nation." 
 
 " And if, before I see you again, our 
 poor afflicted friend were to recover his 
 reason, should I speak to him of all 
 this?" 
 
 "You see him then sometimes?" 
 asked the traveller. 
 
 " Of course, replied the fair mercer, 
 with great simplicity; "poor, deserted, 
 and with no relations near, who else 
 would pity him?" 
 
 " Is there any hope of a cure ?" 
 
 " As yet the doctors do not like to 
 give an opinion ; but yesterday he Avas 
 a little better. Ah ! Mr. Chabouillant, 
 if you could see the dreadful place 
 where he is detained ! I always quit it 
 with an aching heart." 
 
 " To reply to your question," returned 
 the visitor, rising to take leave, " I 
 think, that, even when restored to his 
 senses, our friend's mind will continue 
 at first rather weak, and the shock of 
 any intemperate disclosure is to be 
 feared ; all things considered, you had 
 better not mention this affair, without 
 our consulting together." 
 
 "I think you are right," said the 
 young lady ; " besides, will his reason 
 be restored so soon, or ever r" 
 
 " Let us hope," replied Chabouillant ; 
 "and, at all events, a thousand thanks 
 for your generous assistance." 
 
 He wrapped himself carefully in his 
 cloak, and left the Tricoloured Prism 
 with the same precautions he had 
 adopted on entering.
 
 94 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MORE lucky than Chevillard, \ve will 
 now go to the Rue de Provence, and 
 obtain at once admission to the house 
 inhabited by Morizot, the contractor and 
 assassin. 
 
 There will appear to us, in its most 
 frightful form, what some believe to 
 be an argument against the existence 
 of a superintending Providence, whilst 
 others, who see further and more clearly, 
 pronounce it to be the strongest evi- 
 dence of another and a better world 
 namely, the prosperity of the wicked 
 her below. 
 
 For it was not only by the possession 
 of a large and plentiful stock of material 
 comforts, that this murderer seemed to 
 insult the justice of God and man ; 
 to his sumptuous apartments, his rich 
 equipages, his portfolio stuffed with 
 good and valid securities, his pictures, 
 his bronzes, his town and country 
 houses, must be added, in the account 
 of his scandalous happiness, the bless- 
 ings and joys of a family, which' alone 
 might have made him an object of envy, 
 had he been able to appreciate or under- 
 stand them. 
 
 Come from afar, and fallen one knows 
 not how into the hands of this wretch, 
 a mild, devoted, amiable woman, of 
 cultivated mind and elegant manners, 
 had made him the father of two charm- 
 ing girls. Attractive, both by their 
 beauty and their fortune, these young 
 persons seemed destined to make bril- 
 liant marriages, and, in the imperial 
 aristocracy that was then forming, there 
 was hardly any rank to which they 
 might not aspire. 
 
 One morning, this splendid scoundrel, 
 who might well be called a Twcarct in 
 Crime, was occupied with a personage 
 of some consequence, in planning a 
 marriage of this kind for his eldest 
 daughter, when a servant came to in- 
 terrupt him with the strange announce- 
 ment, that the Marquis de Brevannes was 
 there, and wished to speak to him. 
 
 To hear a visit announced from a 
 man, the last of his name, whom a few 
 weeks before you think you have sent 
 into the other world, is not a very ordi- 
 nary case, and one that is likely to have 
 some effect upon your nerves. Morizot 
 therefore made the servant repeat the 
 intelligence, which had occasioned him 
 such disagreeable surprise ; and per- 
 suading himself, for good reasons, that 
 it was impossible the Marquis de Bre- 
 vannes should really be in his ante- 
 
 chamber, he concluded, that some 
 mistake in the name would probably 
 explain it all. 
 
 The little discussion which arose be- 
 tween the master and servant on this 
 question, induced the previous visitor 
 of the commissary to take his leave ; 
 and as Morizot, in the ticklish state of 
 his conscience, was somewhat mysitfied 
 at the perseverance of the servant, in 
 maintaining that he was not deceived 
 as to the name, he allowed his guest to 
 depart with the assurance, that he 
 would soon have the honour of seeing 
 him again, and that they would then 
 resume their conversation. He next 
 ordered, that the new-comer should be 
 admitted. 
 
 On seeing a young man of rather 
 vulgar appearance, the commissary felt 
 greatly relieved ; and, recovering his 
 usual haughtiness of look and manner, 
 he made a sign to the stranger to be 
 seated, and asked him to whom he had 
 the honour of speaking. 
 
 It were vain to attempt to deceive the 
 reader. In this audacious visitor, he 
 has already guessed the depository of 
 the dark secrets revealed-at the Golden 
 Lamb. As we said in the first chapter 
 of this story, Chabouillant " had little 
 elevation in his feelings or ideas, but 
 was gifted with the most imperturbable 
 self-possession," and of course he did 
 not think that a secret of this impor- 
 tance should remain an unproductive 
 capital in his hands. Though he knew 
 what a terrible adversary he had come 
 to encounter face to face, he retained as 
 much ease of manner, and presence of 
 mind, as if engaged in the most simple 
 and natural transaction ; and it was in 
 that jovial and would-be elegant tone, 
 the use of which we have before ob- 
 served in him, that the commercial 
 traveller answered without hesitation to 
 the question asked him : " Sir, I am the 
 bearer of a name, that is neither strange 
 nor indifferent to you the Marquis de 
 Brevannes." 
 
 " De Bravannesr" said Morizot, as 
 if not quite sure that he had heard 
 rightly. 
 
 " No, Brevannes Bre, Bre," an- 
 swered the commercial traveller, spel- 
 ling the word. 
 
 " You astonish me a good deal," said 
 the commissary; "I knew indeed, be- 
 fore the revolution, a Marquis de Bre- 
 vannes, who was one of the first .to 
 emigrate ; but I have every reason to 
 believe, that he died abroad, and, in any 
 case, he would now be nearly sixty
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 9o 
 
 years of age. It eannot therefore be 
 he, that I have now the honour of re- 
 ceiving." 
 
 "The person in question, sir, was my 
 father ; I am Brevannes Junior." 
 
 The commissary threw a long and 
 searching glance at the author of this 
 communication, and then resumed : " I 
 think I am tolerably well acquainted 
 with the family-affairs of the late Mar- 
 quis de Brevannes, and I never heard 
 that he had a son, much less a son that 
 bore his name ; you are doubtless aware, 
 that he was never married." 
 
 " Excuse me the marquis had two 
 children : Esther de Brevannes, whom 
 he acknowledged, and myself, the elder 
 of the two, for whom he did that service 
 in foreign parts, to prevent the name 
 from becoming extinct." 
 
 "It is possible, sir," said Morizot; 
 " but what then is the object of your 
 visit?" 
 
 " As my father's sole heir, I wish to 
 ask you, sir, in your quality of former 
 steward to the marquis, for some infor- 
 mation as to the state of the paternal 
 fortune." 
 
 " The marquis was an emigrant; his 
 property was confiscated, and sold by 
 the nation " 
 
 " And bought by you, I know," in- 
 terrupted the false De Brevannes, " with 
 the evident intention of restoring it to 
 the rightfid heirs. It was a noble act, 
 sir!" 
 
 " It is impossible for me to accept 
 this praise," answered Morizot, drily, 
 " for the existence of any such heirs 
 was completely unknown to me." 
 
 " What ! eyen that of my sister 
 Esther *" asked Chabouillant, in a 
 slightly ironical tone, which had its 
 effect on the commissary. 
 
 " I speak of heirs male. With re- 
 gard to Mademoiselle Esther, the mar- 
 quis entrusted her to my care before his 
 departure, and it would be strange in- 
 deed, if I had not known of her ex- 
 istence." 
 
 " And of her death also," continued 
 the commercial traveller, in the same 
 tone which had already so much dis- 
 pleased Morizot. 
 
 " Ah !" said th'e commissary, assu- 
 ming an air of emotion ; " we lost the 
 poor child only a few weeks ago." 
 
 " That alone, my dear sir, makes 
 another little account to be settled 
 between us ; for, to my certain know- 
 ledge, my father had left in your hands 
 a considerable sum of money, which 
 was intended for the dowry of my poor 
 
 sister. Now, as she died -vvithin two 
 months of her marriage, and before you 
 had time to come to any settlement 
 with her, this money must naturally 
 still be in your honourable hands." 
 
 " Without denying or affirming the 
 reality of such a deposit, on which 
 subject you may have been wrongly in- 
 formed, I would just remark to you," 
 resumed the commissary, with a pre- 
 sence of mind which was becoming 
 every moment more necessary, " that 
 natural children, though they may 
 inherit from their father or mother, do 
 not inherit from each other. In any 
 case, where I inclined to listen to your 
 demands, your right to the name you 
 have assumed would require some con- 
 firmation." 
 
 " That is to say, I must prove to you, 
 by some mode or other, that I am my 
 father's son." 
 
 " Why," answered Morizot, who, 
 thinking he could detect some embar- 
 rassment in this reply, now assumed an 
 air of indifference, " it is usual to 
 proceed in this manner, between per- 
 sons who have no previous acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " Well," said the young man, with 
 apparent simplicity, " I must begin by 
 freely confessing, that I have in my 
 possession no titles or proofs of any 
 sort; but I have reckoned upon you, 
 to help me out of this ridiculous 
 position." 
 
 " How so r" asked the commissary, 
 with disdainful curiosity. 
 
 " Having managed the affairs of the 
 marquis for a long time, you must have 
 seen papers, or other evidence, proving 
 my birth ; and, in default of other 
 proofs, your testimony may be of great 
 service to me." 
 
 " But I tell you again, sir, that I 
 never before heard of your existence, 
 and I certainly shall not affirm a fact of 
 which I am wholly ignorant." 
 
 " Then," said the pretended marquis, 
 " we must take up the matter in 
 another light. Are you quite sure, 
 sir, that my father died abroad, as 
 reported r" 
 
 This question was asked in a tone 
 calculated to touch Morizot in the 
 depths of his conscience ; he answered 
 therefore with some confusion : "I 
 have heard so, but cannot of course be 
 positively certain." 
 
 " Well then ! I can inform you, that, 
 about a fortnight ago, he returned to 
 France." 
 
 " It is impossible," stammered the
 
 96 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OE, 
 
 commissary ; " but, in any case, I have 
 seen nothing of him." 
 
 " I will add," continued this terrible 
 visitor, raising his voice, " that certain 
 reports have reached me, which make 
 me suspect that he was the victim 
 of an assassination, soon after his 
 arrival." 
 
 " You are wrong, young man," said 
 Morizot, in the utmost agitation, " to 
 believe lightly such reports." 
 
 " And you are wrong, sir, not to 
 believe them ; for they go so far as to 
 name the assassin and the person 
 named is you." 
 
 " Sir !" cried Morizot, pale and trem- 
 bling, but trying to assume the dignity 
 of injured innocence. 
 
 " That is not all. Esther de Bre- 
 vannes died a violent death, in conse- 
 quence of. a base seduction, of which 
 she was the victim. She was moreover 
 robbed of the dowry left by her father 
 in the hands of a faithful guardian. I 
 will add, that the murder I speak of 
 was committed in a solitary house in 
 the Allee des Veuves, by the person 
 who had the chief interest in concealing 
 all these crimes. He was aided by a 
 former valet and a female-pander of the 
 marquis, a charming couple who have 
 now taken refuge at Offenburg and 
 the dead body was afterwards removed 
 by some blind men. Will you now 
 believe, sir, that I am De Brevannes, 
 junior, or will you give me your assist- 
 ance to prove it, even if I am not ?" 
 
 During this long speech, the commis- 
 sary, though much alarmed, had in 
 some degree recovered himself. 
 
 " Come, sir," said he abruptly, "you 
 know, that I am tolerably rich, and you 
 think, by a tissue of horrors, to make a 
 speculation of me. I will not deny, 
 that you have touched my weak point, 
 for I have a great dread of calumny. 
 Speak then ! what do you require ?" 
 
 " Allow me, sir !" said Chabouillant ; 
 " you do me, I think, the honour to 
 offer me a sum of money?" 
 
 " Yes, a round sum provided you 
 are not unreasonable in your de- 
 mands." 
 
 " But I tell you, sir, that I am deter- 
 mined to have my birth acknowledged 
 and certified." 
 
 " Your birth, sir ? I am quite sure, 
 that you are not the son of the Marquis 
 de Brevannes, and I do not see what 
 interest you can have in this dangerous 
 usurpation of his name." 
 
 " I will tell you the interest," replied 
 Chabouillant. " You pretend, that I 
 
 lay claim to a father who is not mine ; 
 that is possible ; but nothing proves 
 that your excellent friend was not my 
 father, the worthy author of my days 
 being hitherto unknown." 
 
 " That is to say, you are a natural 
 child 'What then ?" 
 
 " Well! here is a man Avho is dead 
 for you will admit the marquis is 
 dead?" 
 
 " Go on, sir," said Morizot, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Well then, being removed from this 
 world, resumed Chabouillant, who ap- 
 peared to take delight in slowly distil- 
 ling his argument, " the dear man will 
 not be able to. disown me as his son ; 
 and, on the other hand, nothing can be 
 easier than to believe in his paternity, 
 for he, who has had one illegitimate 
 child, may as well have had two. It 
 is plain as the nose on one's face !" 
 
 " But what conclusion do you draw 
 from all this?" 
 
 " The conclusion is very simple. I 
 have no family, and have always wanted 
 one. Here I find a family extinct, and 
 am quite ready to revive it ; but to pre- 
 vent the interference of the public, I 
 must have a respectable man for my 
 security. Formerly steward of the 
 late marquis, you know more about 
 him and his children than any one else ; 
 you have only to proclaim me his son ; 
 no one has any interest in contradicting 
 you ; and, in recompense for the sham 
 father that you will bestow upon me, 
 I promise you the most absolute secrecy 
 as to your own. pranks." 
 
 " Allow me to tell you," resumed 
 Morizot, " that all this appears to me 
 Very absurd." 
 
 " Not so absurd," answered the com- 
 mercial traveller ; "I think, on the 
 contrary, it shows a certain power of 
 combination. Because, you see, it is 
 not enough to give me a name and an 
 agreeable title ; I must have the means 
 of keeping up my rank, and I antici- 
 pate, that my little romance will have 
 all the necessary ingredients." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 asked Morizot ; for this was touching 
 the chord that was most sensitive within 
 him. 
 
 " I mean, to be sure, that, in making 
 me a marquis, you will not leave me to 
 die of hunger. You have first of all 
 Esther's dowry, and secondly the De 
 Brevannes estate, which you got for 
 next to nothing. It would be the devil, 
 if I were not able to glean a little of all 
 this plunder."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 97 
 
 " And pray, what would be the ex- 
 tent of your strange pretensions ?" 
 
 " You must give me up the sum of 
 money left in your hands, and, with 
 regard to the real property, I don't 
 know exactly what there is but I 
 should be content with half." 
 
 "You are out of your senses, sir!" 
 cried Morizot, in whom avarice was the 
 dominant passion. " You ask me for 
 the bulk of my fortune." 
 
 " Do you think it dear ? Remember, 
 my dear sir, that your head is at stake, 
 and the honour of your family." 
 
 " You think to intimidate me by 
 
 13 
 
 these threats ; but know, that I do not 
 fear your revelations," cried Mori/ot, 
 who had gradually recovered his as- 
 surance. " Even if there were any 
 truth in what you advance, I defy you 
 to bring any proofs ; and, to compro- 
 mise a man of my position and standing, 
 your single testimony will go but a 
 little way, I can tell you." 
 
 "Very well! very well, sir!" said 
 the commercial traveller, a little as- 
 tonished at the mode in which the 
 commissary took up the question. " We 
 shall see how it will finish." 
 
 " I have seen it already," answered
 
 98 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 ;he commissary ; and, at the same time, 
 took up a newspaper to read, as if to 
 lint ro his visitor that he was not dis- 
 posed to continue the conversation. 
 
 " Is that your last word?" said Cha- 
 aouillant, rising. 
 
 " I will tell you the harm that you 
 may do me," resumed the commissary. 
 "You are able, perhaps, to excite against 
 me, for a few days, that public opinion, 
 which, from an instinct of envy, has 
 always been hostile to fortunes made in 
 financial operations. With a couple of 
 grand balls, and a few dinners, I could 
 silence all the clatter. But it would 
 cost me some twenty thousand francs, 
 and these may just as well be expended 
 on you alone. I offer you that sum ; 
 you can either take it or leave it." 
 
 So saying, he went on with his news- 
 paper. 
 
 " Have you well considered it?" asked 
 the commercial traveller. 
 
 " Xot a farthing more," replied Mo- 
 rizot, continuing to read. 
 
 " You will hear of me again, my dear 
 sir," said Chabouillant, moving towards 
 the door. 
 
 Following his natural bent, Morizot 
 had already determined to brave it out 
 by impudence. Far from uttering a 
 word, or making the least gesture to 
 detain his dangerous guest, and not 
 even using towards him the ordinary 
 forms of politeness, he kept his seatj 
 and affected to be seriously absorbed in 
 the occupation he had chosen. 
 
 More and more disappointed, Cha- 
 bouillant hesitated as he approached the 
 door of the apartment, and, as if not to 
 be wanting in civility on his side, he 
 exclaimed in a loud voice, before cross- 
 ing the threshold : " Sir, I have the 
 honour to be your obedient " 
 
 " Farewell, my good fellow !" an- 
 swered Morizot, in a patronising tone, 
 and without even looking at him. 
 
 . Innocence itself could not have as- 
 sumed an exterior of greater calmness 
 and confidence. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IT may well be supposed, that, be- 
 neath this surface of quiet insolence 
 affected by Morizot, there lurked the 
 most painful anxiety. But, completely 
 master of himself, this man had played 
 his game in this difficult conjuncture, 
 with his accustomed ability. His maxim 
 was, that, in every difficult business, of 
 which we greatly desire the success, one 
 of the first rules to attain our end, is not 
 
 to appear anxious about it. He had 
 begun therefore by putting his adversary 
 off his guard, by an assumption of care- 
 lessness and disinterestedness, and by 
 this proceeding he was sure of escaping 
 the danger to Avhich superficial observers 
 might have thought him exposed. To 
 jo and denounce him immediately, was a 
 fault of which the possessor of his secret 
 would hardly be guilty ; by such a false 
 step, the bungler would have crushed 
 the prospect of his own plan of extor- 
 tion. On the other hand, a second and 
 close rencounter might be easily avoided. 
 Then, and provided that, till then, the 
 affair had assumed no fresh position, it 
 would be time enough to loose one's 
 hold, and decide upon making the ne- 
 cessary sacrifices. In the mean time, 
 there was everything to be gained, in 
 keeping a cool head, and standing one's 
 ground ; it is always time enough to get 
 one's throat cut, when nothing else 
 remains to be done. 
 
 It happened, that, on the very day 
 that Chabouillant had presented himself 
 at the commissary's, a public dinner 
 was given at the house of the latter. 
 At his table (for such is the world, and 
 such the privilege of the rich) were ex- 
 pected renowned politicians, characters 
 Avhose names stood high in the financial 
 list, literati, artists, men of science, and 
 finally several returned emigrants, who 
 were soon to add the halo of their names 
 to the imperial eagle, which, yet enclosed 
 within the egg, already threatened to 
 break its shell. 
 
 For the last quarter of an hour, the 
 guests were all assembled ; Garat only 
 was expected, the celebrated singer of 
 the day, who, it was anticipated, would 
 favour the company with several ballads 
 after dinner. In the mean time, they 
 had formed themselves into animated 
 groups in various parts of the saloon; 
 and of these as might reasonably be 
 supposed that which had assembled 
 round the mistress of the house, and her 
 two graceful daughters, was by no means 
 the least numerous. 
 
 Engaged in a lively conversation with 
 a member of the legislative body, and 
 the secretary of one of the ministers, 
 Morizot showed nothing of the anxious 
 preoccupation, which must nevertheless 
 have been left upon his mind by the 
 dangerous visit to which he had that 
 morning been subjected. 
 
 The door of the saloon suddenljopen- 
 ing, the master of the house detaches 
 himself from his two friends, to^o and 
 receive the guest, whom he is tlius led
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 99 
 
 to expect. At the same instant, the 
 servant announces to the assembly, the 
 name of Monsieur de Brevannes, and 
 Morizot finds himself confronted by 
 Chabouillant. 
 
 " How, sir !" exclaims the commis- 
 sary, in a stifled tone, and hardly able 
 to contain himself; "you have dared 
 
 ' Yes," whispered the commercial tra- 
 veller ; " I looked upon this as a good 
 opportunity of cultivating our acquaint- 
 ance. Pray have the goodness to intro- 
 duce me to Madame Morizot." 
 
 The name of Brevannes, known to 
 several that were present, had excited 
 attention, and it was necessary at once 
 to initiate the usurper in his assumed 
 post, or suffer him to perform the office 
 for himself. On the other hand, the 
 insolent gait of this man marked the 
 degree of his resolution, and, if urged, 
 lie could easily be determined, on the 
 spot, to proceed to any extremity. 
 Further parley was impossible. Cost 
 what it might, an outbreak must be 
 avoided ; and, to gain the ground thus 
 lost, must be a matter of after considera- 
 tion. With an effort to maintain his se- 
 renity of demeanour, Morizot advanced 
 towards his wife, followed by the daring 
 knave, and presenting him to her : 
 Emilie," said he, " Monsieur is the 
 son of my old and esteem'ed friend, the 
 Marquis de Brevannes ; he had not 
 positively promised me to be here this 
 evening, therefore, I did not warn you 
 tc expect him." 
 
 While Madame Morizot exchanged 
 with the newly-arrived visitor a few 
 polite words, the last expected guest 
 made his appearance ; and almost im- 
 mediately after, the maitre d'Mtel opened 
 the folding-doors of the saloon, and din- 
 ner was announced. 
 
 Placed at the farthest end of the table, 
 ChabouiHant had wit enough to keep in 
 the background, and made but few 
 blunders by which he could in any way 
 commit himself. Notwithstanding the 
 distance to which he had been removed, 
 he was not forgotten by the mistress of 
 the house, who honoured him several 
 times by her particular attention. To 
 be brief, everything went off capitally, 
 and the commercial -traveller might have 
 been, in good earnest, the man he was 
 representing, for aught to the contrary 
 which marked his debut in high life. 
 
 After coffee had been served, Garat, 
 who happened that day to be in a good- 
 natured vein, consented to sing, and the 
 part of ChabouiHant, lost in the crowd 
 
 of auditors, was still easy to play. A 
 little later, he followed out an evil sug- 
 gestion, and thinking himself called 
 upon to make himself agreeable to the 
 lady of the house, he rather took her by 
 surprise, by some expressions which 
 savoured of his profession, and which 
 only became the more apparent from 
 the care with which he guarded his 
 conversation. He was, however, re- 
 lieved from his perilous situation by 
 Morizot, who came to beg his wife to 
 arrange the parties for play; at the 
 same time, finding himself tete-d-tete 
 with his dangerous adversary, he en- 
 gaged him to come without fail, to speak 
 to him on the following morning. 
 
 There occurred afterwards a comical 
 scene, which we shall here relate in a 
 cursory manner, to illustrate how farce 
 mingles itself, at every moment, with 
 the great drama of life. 
 
 While, isolated from the company, 
 Chabouillant, to prove himself at ease, 
 was attentively considering a painting 
 of Girodet's, he was accosted by a little 
 old gentleman, dressed with extreme 
 care, and who appeared to have tho- 
 roughly rehearsed the part of a ci-devant 
 young man. 
 
 " Monsieur," began this fop, repre- 
 sentative of a former age, " you are 
 doubtless related to the good Marquis 
 de Brevannes, with whom I served in 
 the fusiliers /" 
 
 " Monsieur," replied Chabouillant, 
 seizing the opportunity of making good 
 his footing in society, " I am his son." 
 
 " His son ? He married then while 
 an emigrant?" 
 
 " No ! I was born before his depar- 
 ture, but in rather an underhand man- 
 ner. He has since recognised my 
 birth." 
 
 " Ah ! indeed !" said the old gentle- 
 man ; " my good friend was liable 
 enough to certain fits of absence. I use 
 the expression my good friend, because 
 I knew your father very well." 
 
 " Monsieur, I am enchanted to have 
 the honour of meeting you." 
 
 " Yes," replied the ex-fusilier, uncon- 
 scious of the terrible meaning which 
 lurked in his words, " the excellent 
 Brevannes was a lover of the fair sex ; 
 he had in the Champs Elysees a small 
 house, where he used to make up some 
 nice parties, with the Dervieux, the 
 Duthe, and others of the same stamp." 
 
 Once upon this track, the old man 
 made a long excursion into the past, 
 and gave Chabouillant a number of im- 
 portant particulars about his pretended :
 
 100 
 
 THE WIDOWS', WALK; OB, 
 
 father ; after which, he asked him if his 
 position, as a returned emigrant, was 
 legally recognised, and offered him, in 
 case of necessity, the protection of 
 Fouche,* with whom he wished it to 
 appear that he had great influence. He 
 afterwards invited Chabouillant to come 
 and see him, saying that he should be 
 delighted to become more intimately 
 acquainted with the son of his excellent 
 friend, the ci-devant marquis : he then 
 left the room, and his example was 
 speedily followed by the commercial 
 traveller, who had nothing to say for 
 himself, nor even stopped to take leave 
 of the commissary, who was then en- 
 gaged at one of the card-tables. 
 
 When the last guests had departed, 
 and Morizot found himself alone with 
 his wife and daughters, the former, 
 naturally enough, spoke to him upon 
 the subject of young Brevannes, and 
 asked him how long ago this last scion 
 of a house which she had thought ex- 
 tinct, had discovered himself to her 
 husband. 
 
 The commissary, who never (and 
 with good reason) initiated his family 
 into the knowledge of his affairs, thought 
 it as well, for the present, to allow Cha- 
 bouillant to retain his self-assumed rank, 
 and replied, that, on that very morning 
 only, the young man, who has been long 
 absent from France, had made himself 
 known to him. 
 
 " He looks rather a strange sort of 
 man," remarked the elder of the two 
 young ladies. 
 
 " Yes ; probably, in the embarrassed 
 circumstances which attend the life of 
 an emigrant," said Madame Morizot, 
 " his father may have a little neglected 
 his education; he wants the habit of 
 society, but the tone is easily acquired ; 
 he will soon be initiated." 
 
 " I think him good-natured," said 
 the younger Mademoiselle Morizot, a 
 merry girl ; "he is lively and impetu- 
 ous ; he must be of a gay turn of mind." 
 
 " So it appears to me," rejoined the 
 commissary, with an irony that could 
 be understood only by himself. 
 
 " My dear," said Madame Morizot, 
 with some gravity, " I thought you 
 cold and constrained to the young man ; 
 when he came in, and you" introduced 
 him to me, you looked so stern ! It 
 appears to me, that the son of the Mar- 
 
 * The Ministry of the Police had at this time 
 been suppressed, but FouchiS, who had long 
 been at the head of this department, still pre- 
 served reat influence over the direction of the 
 political police. 
 
 quis de Brevannes might have been 
 received with a little more warmth of 
 manner." 
 
 " I do not see why you should think 
 so," replied the commissary. " I, this 
 morning only, saw the youth for the 
 first time, and immediately asked him 
 to come this evening ; he had almost 
 given me a refusal, and then, just as we 
 are about to sit down to table, he makes 
 his appearance. I could not quite un- 
 derstand it." 
 
 " I will tell you what," replied the 
 lady, archly ; " between ourselves, I 
 think you are a little afraid of ghosts." 
 
 " I hardly know," replied Morizot, 
 rather drily, " what you can mean." 
 
 " But, my dear," said Madame Mori- 
 zot, with a slight hesitation in her man- 
 ner, " is not the son of the Marquis de 
 Brevannes also his heir?" 
 
 " "Well ! and Avhat is that to me?" 
 
 " It seems to me, that as possessor of 
 the whole fortune of his father, you 
 might have some account to settle with 
 this young man." 
 
 " What account ? The nation has 
 made a public sale of the property, and 
 I have bought and paid for it ; nothing 
 is more clear than my position." 
 
 " Doubtless, according to the letter of 
 the law ; but what view does conscience 
 take of the transaction?" 
 
 "How now? what next? Do you 
 dream of my stripping my own family, 
 to enrich a stranger ?' ' 
 
 " A stranger ! Can he be rightly so 
 called ? Suppose that, instead of the 
 son, the father in person had presented 
 himself; would you have opposed to 
 his remonstrance, the fact of having 
 made the purchase for a twentieth part 
 of its original value, and would you not 
 have entered into some arrangement 
 with him?" 
 
 "With the marquis, doubtless," re- 
 plied the commissary, whose probity was 
 quickly asserted in a merely conditional 
 manner ; "I would have hastened to 
 restore to him his possessions at the 
 purchase price ; but to the succeeding 
 generation, this duty becomes much less 
 imperative ; and in the case of an ille- 
 gitimate heir, the obligation is still fur- 
 ther lessened, and burdens not my con- 
 science in the least." 
 
 " It is singular enough," rejoined the 
 worthy woman, " my innate perception 
 of the two cases recognises no difference 
 between them ; however, I am well 
 aware, that, in matters of business, 
 women must not trust to their own 
 impressions."
 
 THE MYSTEKY OF CEIME. 
 
 101 
 
 " Yes, my dear, believe me ; let us 
 not be quite so chivalrous. We cannot 
 decide the matter by sentiment, and I 
 have my duties as the head of a family 
 to consider." 
 
 " As far as I am concerned," said the 
 younger Mademoiselle Morizot, " I think 
 with mamma, and stand up for high 
 principles." 
 
 " If my opinion were asked," added 
 the eldest, " it would agree with that of 
 my mother and sister." 
 
 " And so much the more so, dear 
 papa," archly rejoined the latter, " as 
 you might find it possible to make some 
 sacrifice in favour of this young man, 
 without reducing us, as an inevitable 
 consequence, to complete indigence." 
 
 " Well, well ! that will do, my little 
 romancer," good-naturedly replied the 
 commissary. " We will talk of all that 
 another time ; it is past twelve, and we 
 must to bed." 
 
 Upon these words, the family sepa- 
 rated, and all betook themselves to 
 repose, as their several consciences 
 might permit them. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE next morning, punctual to the 
 rendezvous which had been given him, 
 Chabouillant presented himself before 
 the commissary. The ideas of the latter 
 personage had apparently undergone 
 some strange revolution, for he received 
 his guest in a smiling, and almost friendly 
 manner, and seemed inclined to support 
 his new pretensions. 
 
 " How," said he, " does the marquis?" 
 
 " Charmingly, my dear Amphitryon," 
 replied Chabouillant. " Well ! are we 
 this morning more reasonably disposed ?" 
 
 " I have reflected much upon our 
 concern," answered the commissary, 
 with a thoughtful air. " You committed 
 yesterday, a piece of audacity, by which 
 you have gained considerable ground. 
 You are a clever man, sir ; more so than 
 I thought." 
 
 " Nay," said the commercial traveller, 
 modestly ; there is not so much to 
 boast of, either. On leaving you yes- 
 terday, I observed a good deal of com- 
 motion in the kitchens, and met two 
 of the scullions, carrying some made- 
 dishes. Very good !' said I ; ' I shall 
 invite myself. One way is as pleasant 
 as another, to get into good society. 
 Any body else would have done the 
 same." 
 
 No ! I assure you, few would have 
 
 hazarded so bold a stroke, which, I now 
 declare to you, forces me to come to 
 some terms." 
 
 " So, then," said the commercial tra- 
 veller, rubbing his hands, " we are in a 
 fair way of cementing the bonds of har- 
 mony between us." 
 
 " That now depends upon you ; and 
 if you will accept a proposal 
 
 " Let us hear ; I am all attention." 
 
 " You were telling me, yesterday, 
 were you not, that you felt the want of 
 a family?" 
 
 " Yes ; I have always felt annoyed at 
 finding myself thrown upon the surface 
 of the earth, without knowing by whom 
 or wherefore." 
 
 " Well ! instead of one family, I offer 
 you two." 
 
 " The devil you do ! That's plenty, 
 at any rate. But how ?" 
 
 " You saw, yesterday, my two daugh- 
 ters," continued Morizot, purposely sus- 
 pending his idea. 
 
 " Yes ! by Jove ! I compliment you 
 upon their appearance. They are really 
 two Graces." 
 
 " The eldest," resumed the commis- 
 sary, "is in all probability destined to 
 make a very good match, which I have 
 already in view. As to the second, she 
 is equally of an age to be taken into 
 consideration ; what should you say 
 now, if I were thinking of marrying her 
 to you?" 
 
 " 1 should say I should say," an- 
 swered ChabouilJant, " that you were 
 not talking seriously." 
 
 " Pardon me ! I always treat seriously 
 of serious business ; and I offer you, in 
 a formal manner, to become my son-in- 
 law." 
 
 " Certainly," replied the commercial 
 traveller, with some slight embarrass- 
 ment, " this offer is most seductive ; 
 but in the first place, we must consider 
 you, my dear father-in-law, may 
 possibly at some future time have 
 some slight misunderstanding with the 
 laws ; in short, you must comprehend, 
 that one would like to transmit to one's 
 children a fair name." 
 
 " Especially, when that name is sto- 
 len," rejoined Morizot, without, how- 
 ever, infusing into his tone of voice the 
 bitterness of the remark. " You are a 
 child," continued he ; " you attach to a 
 fact, with which you believe yourself 
 acquainted, and upon which you are 
 quite misinformed, an importance which 
 it does not deserve ; and even, admitting 
 the worst, do you believe that you are 
 yourself committing a praiseworthy ac-
 
 102 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 tion, and one to -which no blame can be 
 attached, in appropriating to yourself a 
 parentage and a fortune?" 
 
 " Allowing that we are equals on that 
 head," rejoined Chabouillant, " your 
 proposal is lame in another quarter, 
 because, in truth, I see not the necessity 
 of it." 
 
 " Yet hostilities are commenced be- 
 tween us. They must either come at 
 once to a violent termination, or find an 
 end in amicable treaty. I offer you the 
 latter mode of procedure." 
 
 " Very good ; but to see a father 
 offering to sacrifice his daughter to an 
 unknown individual, when he might do 
 otherwise, is to me unaccountable." 
 
 " My young friend, I begin to think 
 I have too highly estimated your powers 
 of understanding, which I conceived to 
 be of the first order. How can you fail 
 to comprehend, without my entering 
 into any further explanation, the interest 
 which I have in allying you to my 
 family?" 
 
 " No ! your idea surprises me ; and 
 whatever your opinion of me may be, it 
 seems to me, as the author says, that 
 a father after all is a father, and would 
 hardly make up his mind to throw away 
 his right of progeniture to the first- 
 comer." 
 
 " But you are not the first-comer, 
 since we accept you for the Marquis de 
 Brevannes. I begin, therefore, by con- 
 ferring upon my daughter a handsome 
 title." 
 
 " Be it so," said Chabouillant ; " but, 
 with your immense fortune, you would 
 have 'no difficulty in finding an equally 
 desirable alliance, elsewhere." 
 
 " Doubtless ; but I should have some 
 difficulty about the dowry, which this 
 desirable alliance might render it neces- 
 sary for me to bestow : whereas to you, 
 I should give the possessions which you 
 claim from me, on behalf of your father. 
 I thus prevent any further proceeding 
 on your part, on the one hand, and on 
 the other, 1 procure for my daughter a 
 suitable establishment. Is not that kill- 
 ing my two birds with one stone ?" 
 
 " Hear, hear !" cried Chabouillant ; 
 " there is certainly some diplomacy 
 about that idea, it must be confessed." 
 
 " And I come in for the benefit of 
 having ascribed to me, by the world at 
 large, a kind of disinterested heroism, 
 in restoring to you, by this delicate 
 proceeding, your paternal inheritance." 
 
 "Good father-in-law!" exclaimed 
 Chabouillant, with a kind of half-con- 
 viction, " you talk of my being clever ; 
 
 the term is better applied to you. By 
 the powers ! what foresight !" 
 
 " In short," added Morizot, " the stars 
 having thrown us into strange contact, 
 the best thing for both our interests, 
 is, indubitably, a good understanding 
 between us. How can this be better 
 established than by linking our fates 
 together ? This is as clear as it can 
 be." 
 
 " Faith !" returned the commercial 
 traveller ; " your reasoning teems with 
 ingenuity." 
 
 " Now," resumed the commissary, 
 " let us take the contrary view of the 
 subject. We cannot agree ; you are 
 determined to do me as much mischief 
 as you can ; I, of course, cannot make ; 
 up my mind to have my throat quietly 
 cut; in short, if I were the sanguinary | 
 wretch you take me for, you might also j 
 run some risk." 
 
 " As to that," replied the commercial ; 
 traveller, " you may suppose, that I am ; 
 not destitute of the means of defence. 
 I have confided to the ears of a particu- 
 lar friend, the whole history of our con- 
 nexion. In case of any disappearance, 
 he has orders to let the cat out of the 
 bag, and place the whole affair in the 
 hands of justice ; on that head, there- 
 fore, I am easy, and you have no in- 
 terest in getting rid of me." 
 
 " That's all right," replied Morizot, [ 
 coolly ; " you have provided for your ! 
 own safety. But suppose your accusa- I 
 tion once laid against me, how are you 
 the better for it ?" 
 
 " You are right ; I never said I should 
 be." 
 
 " Besides, might I not, at first sight 
 of danger, decamp, and carry into fo- 
 reign parts valuables to any amount ? 
 At the worst, have I not the resource of 
 ever}' man of spirit, of escaping infamy 
 by a voluntary death ? and amongst 
 these various hypotheses, how do you 
 come off a gainer :" 
 
 " Neither," said Chabouillant, " do I 
 intend to bring about these unpleasant 
 finales. You have just made me a most 
 agreeable proposal, but you must let me 
 have the day to consider of it." 
 
 li Take your time," replied the com- 
 missary; "while you commune with 
 yourself, I will sound my daughter upon 
 the subject, and at our next interview, 
 you will most probably find everything 
 settled." 
 
 " Very well ; to-morrow at this time, 
 if you like." 
 
 " Agreed : to-morrow." 
 
 And Chabouillant rose to go. He
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 10E 
 
 vas already at the door, when Morizot 
 ailed him back. 
 
 " One word more, my dear son-in- 
 aw. Young people are not always well 
 applied with money ; would you like a 
 ittle in advance from the dowry?" 
 
 " If I must speak the truth, I am not 
 articularly well stocked at present. I 
 lave lately returned from a journey." , 
 
 " Very well," said the commissary, 
 opening an iron casket, at the sight of 
 whose contents, hoth in gold and bank- 
 notes, Chabouillant was completely daz- 
 zled ; " take what you want." 
 
 ' Oh ! a mere trifle. This roleau of 
 ifty louis." 
 
 The sum was immediately handed to 
 him. 
 
 " Shall you give me a receipt ?" asked 
 the commissary, carelessly. 
 
 " To be sure ; but what name shall I 
 ;ign?" 
 
 " That of Brevannes, as a matter of 
 course, by which you introduced your- 
 self yesterday to the public." 
 
 " That of Brevannes," repeated Cha- 
 Douillant, musing aloud ; " no ! upon 
 second thoughts, I would rather not 
 take your money. I do not know how 
 it is ; signing this name, which I have 
 hardly had time to get used to, seems 
 rather odd." 
 
 " The scruple is worthy of you," re- 
 joined Morizot. " But you can take 
 the money without a receipt?" 
 
 This Chabouillant refused, and a slight 
 contest of generosity ensued, in which 
 he had finally the victory, and went 
 away empty-handed ; which was de- 
 cidedly the most reputable, as well as 
 the most prudent thing to do. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 COULD it be the serious intention of a 
 man like Morizot, thus to throw away 
 his daughter, upon a person of whose 
 name, it may be remarked, by the way, 
 he was yet ignorant ? It might be pos- 
 sible, that, hemmed in as he was, in 
 this narrow defile, he might feel it his 
 last resource. At all events, he certainly 
 meant to carry out his singular proposal 
 in some shape or other, since, on the day 
 that the above-mentioned conversation 
 had passed between him and Chabouil- 
 lant, when the family were assembled 
 after dinner, he publicly broached his 
 idea of the marriage, representing it as 
 an honourable and delicate means o. 
 restitution to the young marquis. 
 
 Chabouillant had not that about him 
 which inspires strong interest ; but th 
 
 oung girl to whom he was now offered 
 as a husband, had been, to a certain 
 extent, prepossessed in his favour : 
 moreover, although the republic yet 
 ixisted, there was in essentially monar- 
 chical France a strong feeling about the 
 ancient splendour of a good name, and 
 women, especially, have always been 
 most vulnerable upon this little point 
 of vanity. 
 
 Finally, to be made the instrument of 
 an act of probity and justice, which 
 must draw down upon her father and 
 family universal approbation, was a 
 prospect in itself sufficiently attractive 
 ;o be embraced without hesitation. 
 Mademoiselle Morizot at once decided 
 upon accepting it, and gave her father 
 full power to treat with the marquis 
 upon the subject, as soon as he thought 
 proper. 
 
 Chabouillant, on his side, needed 
 little reflection, to assure himself, that, 
 in a temporal point of view, he had a 
 very good prospect before him, and that 
 there was perhaps no other means of 
 profiting by his discovery, Morizot ap- 
 pearing resolved not to submit to be 
 despoiled of his wealth in any other 
 way. As far as the morality of such a 
 proceeding was concerned, he had settled 
 that question in his own mind, before 
 taking any other step ; it was evident 
 enough, that the act of stealing a name 
 and appropriating to one's self a fortune, 
 was, as far as any feeling of self-respect 
 went, still more disgraceful and com- 
 promising than that of becoming the 
 son-in-law of a murderer. 
 
 On the following day, Chabouillant 
 arrived at Morizot's house, and in a for- 
 mal manner announced his consent to 
 the proposed arrangement. 
 
 It was agreed, that after a short delay, 
 the marriage should take place, and that 
 Mademoiselle Morizot should bring, as 
 her dowry, the half of the possessions, 
 both real and personal, that would have 
 fallen to the heirs of the Marquis de 
 Brevannes, if that succession had been 
 open at the time of his exile from 
 France. 
 
 Chabouillant, with loose principles 
 and incorrect morals, had, in the ground- 
 work of his character, some good quali- 
 ties. As a proof of this, he expressly 
 stipulated, that, as some amends for the 
 injury which had been done to Chevil- 
 lard, whether of sound mind or the con- 
 trary, the unfortunate man should be 
 put in possession of a part of the sum 
 which had been destined for Esther's 
 dowry, and of which he had been de-
 
 104 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OK, 
 
 prived. Thus would be verified the im- 
 pression which Chabouillant had given 
 to Mademoiselle Lebeau, of their com- 
 mon interest, and which the long-sought 
 discovery of his beloved family was at 
 last to confirm. 
 
 Morizot accepted all the conditions, 
 and that evening was fixed upon for the 
 presentation of the pretended Brevannes, 
 on the footing of a future son-in-law. 
 We will spare our readers the detail of 
 the meeting, having already had a simi- 
 lar subject to treat of, at the time of 
 Chevillard's marriage. 
 
 Chabouillant had on the preceding 
 day maintained a prudent reserve of 
 deportment, but on this important even- 
 ing he was anxious to please, and en- 
 listed all his zeal in the cause ; the 
 consequence was, that he became ridi- 
 culous and vulgar. Things, however, 
 went off just as well. Notwithstanding 
 his bad figure and awkward manners, 
 he had not proved disagreeable to her 
 who was to be his wife. A little more 
 or less trouble in bringing about a reform 
 proved no obstacle to the young lady, 
 and she quite determined that her hus- 
 band should become an accomplished 
 gentleman. 
 
 Besides, if the suitor showed himself 
 upon this occasion a little underbred, 
 he was not the less lively and amusing. 
 The conversation turning upon the sub- 
 ject of the emigration, in which he was 
 supposed to have followed his father, he 
 brought to his aid many real facts of his 
 life as a commercial traveller, which, by 
 the addition of a little gloss, became in 
 his skilful hands the materials for a most 
 enter taming Odyssey ; an excellent 
 story-teller, like most of his calling, he 
 managed to keep alive the attention of 
 his new family during a great part of 
 the evening. 
 
 A sprinkling of military exploits could 
 by no means come amiss in his new 
 character of the lover, as the penchant of 
 women for heroes is a well-known fact ; 
 so he enlisted himself, without any 
 ceremony, in the army of Conde, and 
 related, with profuse details, the history 
 of a number of hot engagements, in 
 which he had, more or less, enacted a 
 glorious and honourable part. 
 
 "While he Avas in the heat of his nar- 
 rative, a servant had entered and given 
 a letter to Morizot. The latter had im- 
 mediately withdrawn from the circle ; 
 the rest had seated themselves round a 
 work-table, on which lay, in graceful 
 disorder, the boxes, embroidery, and 
 worsted- work, with which Madame Mo- 
 
 rizot and her daughters employed them- 
 selves. 
 
 Approaching the candelabras on the 
 mantel-piece, the commissary perused 
 with eagerness the note which he had 
 just received. "When he had finished 
 it, an exclamation of " At last, I am 
 saved !" burst from him, which, owing 
 to the distance at which he was stand- 
 ing from Chabouillant, passed unnoticed 
 by the latter. 
 
 With the exception of this slight ma- 
 nifestation of what was passing within 
 him, he remained externally calm, threw 
 the letter into the fire, as some trifling 
 thing, and resumed his place by the side 
 of the narrator, whose departure he care- 
 fully avoided hastening. However, after 
 making an appointment for the follow- 
 ing day, Chabouillant took his leave. 
 Then Morizot, pleading a headache from 
 the effects of listening to the eternal 
 rhapsodies of his hopeful son-in-law, 
 pretended to retire to his own room, 
 where, having shrouded his figure in a 
 cloak, he hurried down a back staircase, 
 out of the hotel, and throwing himself 
 into a hackney-coach, he directed the 
 man to drive to the further end of the 
 Faubourg Saint -Martin, and into one of 
 the least frequented streets of this ob- 
 scure quarter. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HE stopped at some distance from the 
 place where his business lay ; then, pro- 
 ceeding to a house of mean appearance, 
 he knocked three times, at regular in- 
 tervals, at a private door. 
 
 At this signal, a window opened from 
 above, and some person appeared, who 
 seemed desirous of recognising him who 
 had thus announced his arrival. After 
 these several precautions, steps were 
 heard in the passage, and the door was 
 shortly after opened, to give entrance to 
 the commissary, who, in a few minutes' 
 time, was ushered into a chamber, where 
 he found himself in presence of Legros 
 and his female associate. 
 
 Morizot's first words to Legros, on 
 entering the room, Avere : " You have 
 not yet had time to receive my letter. 
 At all events, it has had no hand in 
 deciding your return." 
 
 " A^ r hat letter ?" demanded the man of 
 parchments ; " that which you Avrote 
 to us, about a week since, in which you 
 told us that everything was hushed up?" 
 
 " No ! another, Avhich I sent off the 
 day before yesterday morning, to say 
 that it was all up Avith us."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 105 
 
 " There ! did I not say so ?" cried the 
 Saint-Martin ; " you would return to 
 France : it is positively throwing our- 
 selves into the lion's den." 
 
 " It would not have been so very 
 strange," said Morizot, bitterly, " if, 
 after having, by your indiscretion, com- 
 promised my safety and betrayed our 
 secret, you had taken yourself off and 
 left me here embarrassed and alone." 
 
 " What indiscretion can you mean *" 
 asked Legros. " We have not spoken 
 to a living soul ; your letters have 
 been burnt as soon as received ; we 
 never, except in the evening, left the 
 
 obscure lodging which we occupied in a 
 second-rate hotel at Offenburg; how 
 could we betray any secretr" 
 
 " That I don't know ; but one thing 
 you may be sure of, which is, that, the 
 day before yesterday, a man thoroughly 
 acquainted with every fact connected 
 with our affairs, came to my house, 
 giving out that he was the son of Bre- 
 vannes, and setting an enormous price 
 upon his secret, threatened to reveal 
 the whole, if I did not accede to his 
 conditions." 
 
 " How very strange !" said the lawyer. 
 
 " Not at all strange,' ' replied the
 
 106 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 Saint-Martin, turning to Legros ; " you 
 never will believe me. I felt quite sure 
 that I heard something move one morn- 
 ing in the closet adjoining our room, 
 and in which our host had promised to 
 let no one sleep. You persisted that I 
 was dreaming, and would not go and see 
 what the noise was ; now we are in for 
 it, and you choose this very time to 
 return to Paris." 
 
 " However, the mischief is done now," 
 said the lawyer, sharpty. " What kind 
 of man was he who came to your 
 house?" 
 
 " I can hardly tell ; an underbred 
 fellow, heavily made, with reddish hair. 
 He looked like a roue.'' 
 
 " And so he took it into his head to 
 pass for the son of the marquis ? He is 
 a dangerous man," remarked Legros, 
 who always looked at a subject in a 
 professional point of view; " the part 
 he has chosen is not badly hit upon." 
 
 " The gentleman is not very exorbi- 
 tant," continued the commissary ; " he 
 simply demands the restitution of the 
 half of his pretended father's fortune." 
 
 " AVell, give it up ; for, in point of 
 fact, the fortune is not yours," said 
 Madame Saint-Martin, " and so shut 
 the accuser's mouth, lest he get all our 
 throats cut." 
 
 " Fear makes you wander, my poor 
 dear," answered the lawyer. " But, 
 about this man; his name, his resi- 
 dence ; where is he to be laid hold of?" 
 added Legros, turning to Morizot. 
 
 " I have not the least idea," returned 
 the commissary ; " he may be the devil, 
 for aught I care. My only object was 
 to keep him in check till your return. 
 This I managed by offering him the 
 hand of my youngest daughter, which 
 he was fool enough to accept. "We are 
 now the best friends in the world, and 
 ten days at least will thus be secured, 
 to see what is the best thing to be 
 done." 
 
 " And whyishould you not give him 
 your daughter?" said the Saint-Martin; 
 " there is nothing very derogatory about 
 that. Our safety must be the first con- 
 sideration." 
 
 " Now," said the lawyer, seizing with 
 no gentle touch the arm of the speaker, 
 " will you have the goodness to sit down 
 in this corner, and hold your tongue, 
 with a view to our having a little quiet 
 consultation upon the subject? As re- 
 gards yourself, my dear Morizot, what 
 is your plan? Have you thought of 
 any course you should like to pursue 
 with this knave ?" 
 
 " Faith ! the first idea which natu- 
 rally occurs, since he makes a point of 
 being the son of the marquis, is to send 
 him to keep his father company." 
 
 " Ever for deeds of blood," said the 
 Saint - Martin, as she shrugged her 
 shoulders, with a slight shudder. 
 
 " But it is altogether out of the ques- 
 tion," resumed Morizot. " By a piece 
 of truly infernal ingenuity, he has put 
 himself under the protection of some 
 unknown friend, in whose hands he has 
 deposited a narrative of the whole 
 transaction." 
 
 " An undoubtedly clever fellow," in- 
 terposed Legros. 
 
 " In case Of his disappearance," added 
 the commissar)', " the said friend has 
 instructions to make himself master of 
 the contents of the narrative, and to lay 
 the whole affair open to justice ; thus 
 his death, far from being of any use to 
 us, only multiplies the perils of our 
 situation." 
 
 " Here is the sum-total," said Legros. 
 " In the first place, to discover the spot 
 in which these dangerous papers are 
 concealed ; to take possession of them, 
 and at the same time to get his person 
 into our power ; this is the only means 
 of saving ourselves." 
 
 " To be sure," said the Saint-Martin; 
 " it is all to be done by talking about 
 it." 
 
 " Let us see," asked Legros ; " when 
 do you expect to meet this dreaded 
 individual ?" 
 
 " To-morrow morning," replied Mo- 
 rizot ; " he is to come to my house, I 
 believe at about ten o'clock." 
 
 " Very well ; take this opportunity 
 of obtaining the information we require 
 relative to himself; as he might, how- 
 ever, be reluctant to give it, when he is 
 about to leave you, find a pretext for 
 accompanying him out of the house. I 
 will prowl in disguise, about the pre- 
 cincts of the hotel, track his steps, and 
 not lose sight of him for a minute. The 
 very devil is in it, if I do not get at 
 something in this way." 
 
 " Not badly planned, that," said the 
 commissary. 
 
 The Saint-Martin could not repress 
 the rejoinder which rose to her lips. 
 " All very fine !" muttered she. 
 
 " By my faith !" replied the commis- 
 sary, impatiently ; " you may boast, 
 my dear Madame Saint-Martin, of mak- 
 ing yourself, by all this opposition, 
 eminently disagreeable." 
 
 "And you! how benevolent and 
 amiable ! To think of having, by the
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CK1ME. 
 
 107 
 
 miserable stipend of ten thousand francs, 
 remunerated us for taking a part in this 
 pretty business." 
 
 " Come ! we have had parley enough," 
 said the lawyer, silencing the matron ; 
 " you understand, my dear Morizot," 
 continued he, " you are to obtain every 
 possible clue " 
 
 " Yes ; and I then take him out, for 
 you to take note of." 
 
 " Exactly so ; but as 1 shall not lose 
 sight of him, till he gets home at night, 
 and shall thus be unable to see you 
 during the day, you must send to me, 
 here, the details which you have ob- 
 tained by your conversation with him. 
 If we should then find it necessary to 
 confer any further upon the subject, I 
 will give you a rendezvous somewhere, 
 early in the morning of the day after 
 to-morrow, as it will be prudent to vary 
 the place of our meetings." 
 
 " Very good," said the commissary, 
 putting on his cloak ; and without taking 
 leave of Madame Saint-Martin, who 
 seemed no more disposed than he was, 
 to bestow upon him this mark of polite- 
 ness, he was conducted by the lawyer 
 to the door of the house, which he left 
 with rapid strides. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE scene above related took place 
 on the 16th of February (1804). We 
 take note of this date, because two days 
 later occurred a political event of some 
 importance, which (as will be hereafter 
 seen) influenced, to a certain extent, the 
 sequel of this narrative. 
 
 According to agreement, Legros set 
 out on the following morning, and 
 stopped in the Rue de Provence, at a 
 little before ten o'clock, a few steps from 
 Morizot' s hotel. Clothed in a smock- 
 frock, and bearing on his arm a bas- 
 ket containing eggs and fruit, by which 
 means he represented a countryman, 
 who had come to Paris to dispose of his 
 provisions, he could, without exciting 
 any observation, easily take his stand, 
 and thus turn spy upon systematic prin- 
 ciples, as the police have it. 
 
 Naturally a keen and shrewd observer, 
 the accomplice of Morizot had already 
 recognised his man, merely by his figure 
 and the colour of his hair, the very 
 moment Chabouillant entered the com- 
 missary's house. Immediately on his 
 arrival, the pretended Brevannes was 
 subjected by his father-in-law to a close 
 and circumstantial investigation upon 
 
 the subject of his name, his family, his 
 position in life, and his connexions. 
 
 Morizot' s inquiries were perfectly 
 natural, and Chabouillant, confident of 
 fair play, saw no interest in affecting 
 any concealment; he mentioned his 
 name, his ignorance of his own origin 
 (which circumstance had, in fact, sug- 
 gested to him the idea of taking up the 
 part which he was now acting so suc- 
 cessfully), and then, with praiseworthy 
 self-respect, and desirous to free himself 
 from the imputation of being a mere 
 adventurer, or swindler, he explained 
 how he had gained by traffic an honour- 
 able livelihood. Tliis led him to speak 
 of the house of the Tricoloured Prism, 
 for which he was traveller, of Chevillard, 
 whose acquaintance he had made there, 
 of his last excursion to Germany, and 
 lastly, of the night spent at the Golden 
 Lamb that lucky night, in which he 
 had, by means of the thinness of a par- 
 tition-wall, overheard the secret to which 
 he owed his power, and to which he was 
 also to be indebted for his happiness. 
 
 To all this information, Morizot sought 
 to add that of his son in law's dwelling- 
 place, which it was highly important 
 for him to know; but Chabouillant, 
 who had been perfectly open upon every 
 other point, did not feel such unlimited 
 confidence as not to withhold some few 
 particulars. He reflected, that, in case 
 his father-in-law should meditate foul 
 play, ignorance of his residence would 
 always form some obstacle to his de- 
 signs ; he cleverly evaded an answer to 
 the inquiry, by pretending that he looked 
 upon Morizot's question as the prelude 
 to his intention of paying him a visit, 
 and remarked, that, being shabbily off 
 for lodgings, he wished to avoid com- 
 pany, and never gave his address. 
 
 Having thus procured all the infor- 
 mation which it was possible to obtain, 
 without awakening suspicion, Morizot 
 told the commercial traveller, that he 
 was anxious to have a thorough under- 
 standing respecting the final regulation 
 of their respective interests, but added 
 at the same time, that, as he was under 
 the necessity of going out upon business 
 of importance, he should be obliged to 
 put off this conference to the following 
 day. Chabouillant said, that he was at 
 the command of his father-in-law. 
 
 " A' cry well," said Morizot ; " if you 
 will come here to-morrow, about twelve 
 o'clock (but this must not prevent your 
 joining our circle this evening), we will 
 shut ourselves up for the afternoon, and 
 look into the title-deeds and papers of
 
 108 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 the Brevannes family, in order to see 
 exactly what comes to your share." 
 
 " Agreed then, to-morrow," replied 
 Chabouillant, and he was about to take 
 his leave. 
 
 " Wait for me," cried Morizot; " we 
 M'ill go out together." 
 
 " By the bye," asked the bridegroom 
 elect, " can I not see the ladies ?" 
 
 " Half-past ten," said the commissary, 
 looking at the time-piece ; " they are 
 hardly up ; you would not be admitted." 
 
 " Very well ; I shall do myself that 
 honour in the evening," returned the 
 bridegroom ; and, having again refused 
 fresh offers of money courteously made 
 to him by the commissary, he soon 
 passed out, watched by Legros, who, 
 observing him in Morizot's company, 
 soon recognised his man, much to his 
 own satisfaction, as this incident con- 
 firmed his opinion of his own talents in 
 the character of a skilful spy. 
 
 Chabouillant had scarcely walked ten 
 paces, when Legros, who had secured 
 to himself the services of a poor clown, 
 to look after his goods, under pretence 
 of being obliged to go into the neigh- 
 bourhood, divested himself of his smock- 
 frock, and leaving his basket with his 
 substitute, set out in pursuit, keeping a 
 measured distance from the person 
 whom he intended to dodge during the 
 rest of the day. 
 
 It may be remarked, that Legros' 
 lucky stars here interposed their saving 
 influence in his behalf'. He had hardly 
 left his stand, when an agent of the 
 police came up to the man, who had 
 taken his place, and asked him fer his 
 licence as a vender in the public streets. 
 The poor fellow explained, that he was 
 not there on his own account ; but the 
 police was at that time unusually strict, 
 by reason of the general excitement 
 created by the invisible presence of 
 George Cadoudal, who was concealed 
 somewhere in Paris, with a band of 
 sixty men, bent upon making an open 
 attack on the First-Consul : thus, the 
 mere fact of his being unable to produce 
 his licence, was a sufficient excuse for 
 hurrying Legros' unfortunate substitute 
 to the police-station, and from thence 
 to a fortnight's imprisonment in La 
 Force ; thus furnishing a fresh and 
 lamentable example of the petty blun- 
 ders which at times are committed upon 
 the plea of regard for the public safety, 
 amongst civilized people. 
 
 But to return to Legros. Tracking 
 unobservedly the footsteps of Chabouil- 
 lant, he saw him first go and make a 
 
 good breakfast in one of the cafes on the 
 Boulevards des Italiens, and then call' 
 for the public papers, which he read 
 with marked interest. 
 
 After his breakfast, he loitered out 
 upon the boulevards, enjoying the sun- 
 shine, and coming suddenly upon the 
 little old gentleman whose acquaintance 
 he had made at the dinner-party at 
 Morizot's house, he listened for three- 
 quarters of an hour to a shambling 
 detail of his love-adventures, duels, and 
 achievements, as far back as the vear 
 1789. 
 
 A blooming grisette at this moment 
 passed them. The commercial traveller, 
 under the impression that he was soon 
 to take leave of the delights of bachelor- 
 ship, started upon the track of the young 
 Hebe, and as he followed her to a less 
 frequented part of the boulevards, ven- 
 tured to address to her a few soft words. 
 Whether she were really virtuous, or 
 only experienced an innate aversion for 
 red hair, the young milliner repulsed 
 him somewhat harshly, and he found 
 himself, after his lost trouble, as far off 
 as Frescati's gardens, at about which 
 spot Parisian civilisation arrives at a 
 terminus. 
 
 Luckily for him, a girl of less ques- 
 tionable prudery, and of whose attrac- 
 tions no doubt could be entertained, 
 crossed his path at the moment when 
 he received his dismissal from the other. 
 Ever prompt in making the best of an 
 opportunity, Chabouillant considered 
 that her company might form an agree- 
 able diversion in retracing his weary 
 steps back to the centre-point whence 
 he had started. He hesitated not there- 
 fore to address her, and his good-humour 
 and the eloquence he derived from his 
 profession, being on this occasion quite 
 in place, he had soon reason to flatter 
 himself on having made an undoubted 
 conquest, when his companion suddenly 
 turned to him, and with terror depicted 
 in her countenance, " Bow to me," she 
 said, " and begone; here is the general." 
 
 The unfortunate adventurer, follow- 
 ing mechanically the instructions which 
 had been given him, found himself, after 
 taking a few steps, almost thrown into 
 the arms of an immense man, with grey 
 hair and frightful-looking moustachios. 
 Armed with a tremendous stick, and 
 buttoned up to the chin in an enormous 
 blue surtout, this disagreeable Marplot 
 shot a pulverising glance at Chabouil- 
 lant as he passed him; nor was the 
 expression of this pleasing look in any 
 degree changed, when he turned at a
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 109 
 
 distance of ten paces, to see whether it 
 was withdrawn. 
 
 Finding himself decidedly out of luck 
 in the affairs of Cupid, Chabouillant, 
 who recollected the old proverb, and 
 was fond of dabbling in forbidden pur- 
 suits, thought that the gaming-table 
 might prove more fortunate, and passing 
 to the back of Favart's theatre, still 
 followed by the lawyer (to whom, as 
 our readers must perceive, he gave 
 plenty of work to do), he entered a hell 
 situated in the Rue de Marivaux, of 
 rather a higher order than the No. 113, 
 where we have seen him figure on a 
 former occasion. 
 
 After sitting for some hours, and be- 
 coming winner of thirty louis, he went to 
 acquire an appetite in a cafe-estaminet,* 
 where, to use his own elegant expres- 
 sion, he proceeded to wet his whistle, 
 and then adjourned to dinner with the 
 air of a man who had made a good day's 
 work of it. 
 
 On leaving the restaurant's, tolerably 
 well lined within, as we should have said 
 in former days, he found that he had 
 yet some time to spare, before the anti- 
 cipated hour of meeting his bride elect ; 
 and therefore determined to show him- 
 self at Mademoiselle Lebeau's, whom 
 he sjjad not seen for some days past. He 
 was most anxious to tell her of the 
 splendid match he was about to make, 
 and the generous proviso made in favour 
 of Chevillard. He got into a hackney- 
 coach, in which he was quickly imitated 
 by his double, who never for one moment 
 lost sight of him, and drove to the Rue 
 des Deux Fortes Saint-Sauveur. Ar- 
 rived at his destination, he looked round 
 to make sure that he was unobserved ; 
 nor did he perceive Legros, who was too 
 great an adept in the game he was play- 
 ing, to allow his moves to become visible. 
 Still, from an extra sense of prudence, 
 Chabouillant judged it best to execute 
 a series of serpentine movements in the 
 labyrinth of small streets which consti- 
 tute the quarter of Saint-Denis. This 
 manoeuvre was regarded by Legros as a 
 conclusive index ; nor did he fail, during 
 the Aisit which the commercial traveller 
 was paying, minutely to observe the 
 door, and to inscribe on his tablets the 
 number of the house. 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau received her 
 guest smilingly, and was in far better hu- 
 mour than on a former occasion. She had 
 had good news from Charenton. The 
 doctor had written her word that day, 
 that a decided change for the better had 
 * A tavern where smoking is allowed. 
 
 taken place, since the preceding one, in 
 the state of Chevillard' s health ; and he 
 begged that she would visit the patient 
 on the morrow, as it was possible that 
 her presence might have a desirable in- 
 fluence. The happy always listen gladly 
 to the detail of the happiness of others. 
 Without going into particular explana- 
 tions, Chabouillant remarked to the 
 young tradeswoman, that things were 
 going well with him. According to all 
 appearance, the hostile proceedings, 
 which he had in the first place had rea- 
 son to dread, were now coming to an 
 amicable termination ; and when he 
 should be allowed to speak out, she 
 would be quite astonished at the part 
 which Chevillard was to have in the 
 unexpected good fortune which was to 
 realize the day-dream of his existence. 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau expressed as 
 much sympathy as she could, in the yet 
 clouded prospect that was thus disclosed 
 to her ; after which, Chabouillant, beg- 
 ging her to keep for some days longer 
 the casket he had confided to her care, 
 took leave of her, and proceeded on his 
 way. 
 
 The rest of the evening was passed at 
 Morizot's house, and the bridegroom 
 elect was all attention to his intended 
 bride. In the mean time, Legros was 
 almost petrified, waiting for him in the 
 street. About ten o'clock, Chabouillant 
 left the commissary's hotel, and pro- 
 ceeded to the little Rue Saint-Pierre 
 Montmartre, where he entered a fur- 
 nished house of rather mean appearance. 
 
 Through a hole in the door of the 
 passage, the spy observed him come out 
 from the porter's lodge, with a key and 
 a lighted candle in his hand. Here then 
 abode his man, and the duty of the spy 
 terminated after his long round. Rich 
 in his newly-acquired information, Le- 
 gros relieved himself from mounting 
 guard, and set off to return to his own 
 house. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON reaching home, after his vigorous 
 pursuit of Chabouillant, the lawyer 
 found a letter from Morizot, containing 
 the information which he had picked 
 up, in the morning's conversation with 
 his intended son-in-law. 
 
 Being thus enlightened on the former 
 connexion which had subsisted between 
 the mistress of the Tricoloured Prism, 
 Chevillard, and the commercial travel- 
 ler, Legros, who had already drawn his 
 own inference from the precaution used
 
 110 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 by Chabouillant, in paying his visit at 
 the Rue des Deux Portes Saint-Sauveur, 
 now doubted not but that he had scented 
 out the hiding-place of the deposit ; he 
 therefore sat down, and wrote the fol- 
 lowing answer to his accomplice and 
 friend : 
 
 " I have made a successful campaign, 
 and, to all appearance, the day will not 
 pass over, before I get hold of the much 
 dreaded manuscript. As soon as this is 
 done, I will give you notice ; but it will 
 be important to have Chabouillant under 
 your own eye, during the whole day, so 
 that we may have the means of disposing 
 of him, when he is once stripped of his 
 armour. Besides, it is more than pro- 
 bable, that we shall not be able to carry 
 off the papers before the evening ; but 
 it all depends upon circumstances, and 
 as I can at present say nothing decisive, 
 you must be ready for action at any 
 time, come what may." 
 
 Morizot had finished reading this 
 letter, when Chabouillant entered his 
 room. According to the directions he 
 had just received, he expressed to the 
 commercial traveller his intention of 
 keeping him the whole day, and begged 
 him to stay dinner. 
 
 He then shut the door, and immedi- 
 ately submitted to the inspection of the 
 commercial traveller the title-deeds, 
 which it was understood were to be 
 given into his possession. To his great 
 satisfaction, he perceived that the pre- 
 tended Brevannes gave to these papers, 
 from which he was to derive his know- 
 ledge of his family and fortune, much 
 more serious attention than might have 
 been anticipated. Time soon slips away 
 in handling parchments, and it was five 
 o'clock, and night had drawn in, before 
 Chabouillant had got through half the 
 documents. 
 
 After four hours' close attention to 
 this hard work, the commercial travel- 
 ler got tired, and spoke of putting off 
 the rest till the next day. 
 
 Morizot managed to keep him at it a 
 little longer, but at last Chabouillant 
 was thoroughly knocked up, and inti- 
 mated his desire to return home in the 
 first place to dress, as he was to dine 
 with the ladies, and in the next to take 
 a breath of fresh air ; his head was quite 
 bewildered, he observed, with such a 
 rigmarole of writings. 
 
 The commissary feared that he might 
 aAvaken his suspicions, by pressing him 
 any farther, and though he would have 
 preferred not to lose sight of him for a 
 moment, in order to adhere to the letter 
 
 of Legros' directions, he was obliged to 
 let him go, with particular injunctions 
 not to keep them waiting, and to be 
 back by six o'clock precisely. 
 
 The guest was punctual ; it had hardly 
 struck six, when he reentered Morizot' s 
 room. He came with the news of the 
 arrest of General Moreau ; he had been 
 seized that morning, at eleven o'clock, 
 on returning from his estate of Grosbois. 
 This event gave the commercial traveller 
 the opportunity of discussing some deep 
 theories, upon the nature of politics, 
 which we may be excused from quoting, 
 as they are not essential to the thread 
 of our narrative. 
 
 The commissary, having received no 
 news from Legros, became a prey to the 
 most cruel anxiety, which he was soon 
 unable to conceal from Chabouillant. 
 He began to stride hastily across the 
 room, carried on the conversation in 
 broken sentences, and gave every token 
 of a harassed and preoccupied mind. 
 
 At last, the commercial traveller asked 
 him the cause of his uneasiness, and 
 begged to know whether he was in any 
 way implicated with Moreau, in the 
 conspiracy of Pichegru and George 
 Cadoudal. 
 
 Morizot perceived that he was betray- 
 ing himself, and seizing the idea sug- 
 gested to him by the question, he skil- 
 fully covered his want of self-command, 
 by answering, that, far from being com- 
 promised by Moreau's arrest, he hoped 
 to reap some benefit by it ; for upon the 
 news of the political movement, which 
 had affected the state of the public funds, 
 he had attempted some speculations, 
 and the uneasiness which he now suf- 
 fered, arose, added he, " from the delay 
 of his agent, in forwarding to him the 
 results of this operation." 
 
 The explanation carried with it the 
 appearance of truth, and was fully be- 
 lieved by the commercial traveller. Out 
 of respect for his father-in-law's dis- 
 turbed state of mind, he troubled him 
 no farther with questions, but turned to 
 a mirror, with a view of making some 
 slight improvements in his toilet, which 
 had been rather hastily performed. 
 
 At last, a servant came in, and gave 
 Morizot a letter, saying, that the man 
 waited for an answer. 
 
 At sight of the handwriting, the com- 
 missary hastily unsealed it, and read 
 with eagerness. 
 
 While he was thus employed, Cha- 
 bouillant addressed him. 
 
 " Well," said he, " have you had a 
 letter from your agent:"
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIMK. 
 
 Ill 
 
 " Yes ! yes !" answered the commis- 
 sary, without looking up. 
 
 " And are things turning out accord- 
 ing to your wishes r" 
 
 " Quite so," returned Morizot, taking 
 up a pen to write a few lines in answer. 
 
 " That's all right," good father-in- 
 law," said the commercial traveller, in 
 a jocular tone ; " make the most of your 
 little speculation, so that we may come 
 in for a share of the benefit." 
 
 Morizot having written a short note, 
 went to deliver it himself, to the man 
 who was waiting. 
 
 He was back in an instant. 
 
 " By the bye, my dear fellow," said 
 he to Chabouillant, " we are in for rather 
 a foolish affair." 
 
 "What now?" exclaimed the com- 
 mercial traveller. 
 
 " In my confusion, I omitted to men- 
 tion to the ladies, ttiat you dined here 
 to-day, and now they have just sent to 
 tell me not to wait for them, as they 
 intend to stop to dinner at a house where 
 they have been paying an afternoon 
 visit." 
 
 " It can't be helped ! it is a little 
 disappointment," replied Chabouillant; 
 " we shall be obliged to dine tete-d-tetc." 
 
 " No doubt ; but you will not like 
 that so well. But, stay !" added Mo- 
 rizot, carelessly ; " a thought strikes 
 me : since we are to be put off with 
 bachelor's fare, let us make the best of 
 it, by going to a restaurant! From 
 thence, we will proceed to the Opera, 
 where we shall find the ladies." 
 
 " Willingly ! it is a bright idea," re- 
 plied the commercial traveller. 
 
 " Very well ! if you like, we will set 
 off at once. I have been too much 
 harassed during the whole day, to think 
 of eating anything, and I now begin to 
 feel hungry." 
 
 Chabouillant made no objection, and 
 in less than a quarter of an hour, the 
 carriage of Morizot had measured the 
 distance which divides the Rue de Pro- 
 vence from the Palais-Royal. Our fash- 
 ionables stopped at the Perron. Inflated 
 with the sense of his newly-acquired 
 rank, Chabouillant a little overacted his 
 part, as he traversed the crowd of gazers, 
 attracted by the sumptuous appearance 
 of their equipage. 
 
 The restaurant Robert, the scene of the 
 dinner so fatal to Chevillard, was then 
 one of the very few places at which a 
 man who had any regard for his repu- 
 tation, might consent to dine. Thither 
 the commissary accompanied his son- 
 in-law ; but although there oidy re- 
 
 mained, in the room in which they 
 established themselves, some few scat- 
 tered guests, on account of the then 
 generally prevailing habit of dining 
 between five and six o'clock, Chabouil- 
 lant was careful to avoid the low fami- 
 liarity of manner, which we have ob- 
 served as marking his conduct upon a 
 previous occasion. Although a self- 
 constituted gentleman, he had soon 
 come to a perception of what was due to 
 his name and birth, and Sbrigani, who 
 had been attracted towards Porceaugnac * 
 by the dignity with which he ate Ms 
 bread, would have certainly entertained 
 the same profound respect for the smug- 
 gled marquis, could he have witnessed 
 the perfect decorum of all his gastrono- 
 mic proceedings. 
 
 It is, however, incumbent upon nobi- 
 lity to be divested of the sense of thirst, 
 and Chabouillant, under the enlivening 
 influence of the sweet gifts of Bacchus 
 (as the songs of the day have it), soon 
 began to invest the future with the most 
 attractive colours. He got quite into a 
 sentimental vein. 
 
 " Most certainly," said he to his 
 father-in-law, " there was something 
 adverse in the outset of our acquaint- 
 ance, but it strikes me, notwithstanding, 
 that we shall understand one another 
 uncommonly well." 
 
 " Faith ! I believe so too !" exclaimed 
 Morizot. " As far as I am concerned, 
 I shall do my best to preserve the atmo- 
 sphere between us from the shadow of 
 a cloud." 
 
 " I may now say," continued Cha- 
 bouillant, " that I had started with some 
 prepossessions against you; besides, you 
 looked far more disposed to collar me, 
 than to extend the right-hand of fellow- 
 ship." 
 
 " Faith ! my dear fellow, you must 
 confess, on your own part, that the 
 manner of your introduction was any- 
 thing but conciliatory." 
 
 " A true picture of mankind !" philo- 
 sophically rejoined the commercial tra- 
 veller ; " to-day at daggers drawn, and 
 to-morrow all hail-fellow-well-met ; and 
 all in consequence of coming to an 
 understanding upon the subject of filthy 
 lucre." 
 
 " Provided," said Morizot, assuming 
 an air of melancholy, " that the happi- 
 ness of my daughter and yourself may 
 be secured by this marriage !" 
 
 " This marriage !" retorted Chabo\i- 
 illant ; " it cannot buc turn out well. 
 I certainly have my foibles, but setting 
 * See Molierij'* comedy of that name.
 
 112 
 
 THE "WIDOWS' WALK ; OR, 
 
 aside the circumstance of my unknown 
 descent, which, rather soured my tem- 
 per, I do not believe myself on the whole 
 destitute of some sterling qualities, and 
 boasting apart, I might have turned out 
 a very good sort of fellow." 
 
 " Fortunately," replied the commis- 
 sary, " the void is now filled up." 
 
 " Doubtless ; I begin already to feel 
 myself a different man ; family ties, the 
 domestic hearth and fireside enjoyments, 
 constitute my delight. At a later period, 
 the idea of lightening your labours, 
 looking after the education of my chil- 
 dren, and finally strewing a few flowers 
 in your path to the grave, forms, let me 
 tell you, my friend, a not unpleasing 
 perspective. And if," added he, with 
 unlucky allusion, " some bitter retro- 
 spect might, at times, trouble the peace 
 of your declining years " 
 
 " Alas !" exclaimed Morizot, in a 
 grievous tone, " the most unblemished 
 career cannot be trod without some 
 fearful trials." 
 
 " To be sure, I know that ; but there 
 is pardon for every transgression : we 
 are often the creatures of circumstances, 
 especially in times of great political com- 
 motions. By the bye," continued Cha- 
 bouillant, " what became of those people 
 at OfFenburg, in whose company I passed 
 that queer night, before I knew anything 
 about them : Their feeling towards you 
 was anything but friendly. Did I ever 
 tell you so r" 
 
 " Oh!" replied the commissary; " I 
 keep them, in check by means of occa- 
 sional bribes." 
 
 " I know that you have a hold upon 
 the man, but the wife is a regular snake 
 in the grass. You must take care of 
 her." 
 
 " That will all come right enough," 
 returned Morizot; and, dinner bein^ 
 over, he called for the bill, and looked 
 at his watch. 
 
 The account being paid, the two 
 guests left the dining-room. Easy and 
 familiar by nature, and . at the present 
 moment especially, influenced by the 
 most cordial feelings of good-fellowship, 
 Chabouillant passed his arm within that 
 of his father-in-law, and they proceeded 
 to the entrance-door. But instead of 
 the equipage of Morizot, which they 
 had expected to find in waiting, to con- 
 vey the son and father-in-law elect to 
 the Opera, nothing was to be seen but 
 a shabby-looking hackney-coach, which 
 seemed to have stopped at some paces' 
 distance from the restaurant's. 
 
 This disappointment was the more 
 
 vexatious, as the pavement was just 
 wetted by some heavy drops of rain, 
 and one glance at the sky was sufficient 
 to show the proximity of one of those 
 deluging downfalls to which the atmo- 
 spheric temperament of the Parisian 
 climate is peculiarly liable. 
 
 "While the two fashionables, still on 
 foot, in vain looked after the expected 
 carriage, and Morizot was storming at 
 his coachman's want of punctuality, the 
 figure of a man emerged from the mass 
 of shadow, which was cast by the crazy 
 vehicle standing in the middle of the 
 street, and walking straight up to Cha- 
 bouillant, addressed him in a tone of the 
 most marked politeness. 
 
 " Have I the honour," said he, " of 
 speaking to the ci-devant Marquis de 
 Brevannes :" 
 
 Chabouillant, as we have before ob- 
 served, had not quite made up his mind 
 publicly to use the title which he had 
 assumed. He was therefore disagree- 
 ably taken by surprise, at finding him- 
 self thus designated by an individual 
 unknown to him, and whose appearance 
 was altogether, as far as he could judge, 
 unprepossessing. The tone of his an- 
 swer partook of this impression. 
 
 " What business is that of yours ?" 
 said he, with some asperity. 
 
 " You must try and persuade your- 
 self," returned the unknown, " that I 
 have an interest in putting the question 
 to you, and I beg that you will have the 
 goodness to give me an answer, which 
 indeed I have the right to enforce." 
 
 " The right " retorted the commer- 
 cial traveller, raising his voice to a higher 
 pitch. " What the devil can you want? 
 I don't know who you are." 
 
 " We need not make a noise about 
 it," replied his tormentor. " Your re- 
 luctance to give your name removes all 
 doubt ; you are the ci-devant Marquis 
 de Brevannes ; your name yet figures 
 on the list of emigrants, and you are 
 moreover accused of being concerned in 
 the conspiracy of Pichegru and George 
 Cadoudal. I," continued he, throwing 
 open his cloak, and discovering the tri- 
 coloured scarf, " have the honour to be 
 an officer of justice, and summon you 
 to follow me, in the name of the law." 
 
 It was a critical juncture. If Cha- 
 bouillant denied, in the presence of a 
 public functionary, his identity as the 
 marquis, he overturned, as connected 
 with Morizot, the whole superstructure 
 of the marriage-plot ; if, on the other 
 hand, he maintained his assumed name 
 in the face of justice, before whose
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 113 
 
 tribunal he was apparently~about to be 
 dragged, he incurred double peril, since 
 that name was implicated in a serious 
 accusation of treason. Some suspicion 
 did indeed cross his mind, of a trick on 
 Morizot's part, but it was soon destroyed, 
 by the commissary's addressing the 
 officer of the peace, in the following 
 terms : 
 
 " I think, my dear sir, that you are 
 under some mistake ; this person is in- 
 deed the ci-devant Marquis deBrevannes, 
 and, as you observe, his position as a 
 returned emigrant, has not been legally 
 recognised " 
 
 15 
 
 " Precisely so," replied the officer ; 
 " there is 110 mistake." 
 
 " Permit me," resumed Morizot. 
 "This gentleman is on the eve of be- 
 coming my son-in-law; it is hardly 
 probable, that I, as commissary-general 
 of the republican armies, would give my 
 daughter to one engaged in a conspiracy ; 
 I further add, that the position of this 
 young man precludes the idea of his 
 having any part in the attempts of 
 people without a name, and of no re- 
 cognised class in society. I therefore 
 repeat, that there must be some mistake ; 
 your order of arrest must have reference
 
 114 
 
 THE AVIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 to Monsieur's father, who was indeed a 
 pensioner on the bounty of England ; 
 but he has been long since dead, although 
 it was falsely rumoured by the police, 
 that he returned to France, about six 
 months ago." 
 
 " I am exceedingly sorry, sir," re- 
 joined the police-agent, " that it should 
 be out of my power to pay any regard 
 to your explanations ; but I must beg to 
 inform you, confidentially, that it was 
 after a dinner which took place at your 
 house a few days back, that the ci-devant 
 Marquis de Brevannes' name was 
 mentioned at Monsieur Fouche's. The 
 distinction between the father and son 
 has been perfectly Avell marked ; Mon- 
 sieur is the person with whom I am 
 concerned." 
 
 " You have at least a warrant, which 
 you will be good enough to show me," 
 resumed Morizot, with some haughti- 
 ness of tone. 
 
 " Certainly ; and although the urgent 
 and serious nature of the circumstances, 
 authorises my slighting your request, I 
 will show you the warrant," replied the 
 officer of justice, drawing from his 
 pocket a paper, which he handed to 
 Morizot. 
 
 The latter, followed by Chabouillant, 
 approached the carriage, which retained 
 its station at a few steps' distance, in 
 order to peruse, by the glare of the 
 lamps, the document which he held. 
 The commercial traveller, while ex- 
 amining the warrant, signed " DUBOIS, 
 Counsellor of State, Prefect of Police," 
 and which appeared perfectly correct, 
 glanced at the inside of the coach, where 
 he distinctlyperceived military uniforms. 
 While he thus acquired the painful 
 certainty, that all resistance would be in 
 vain, he was convinced by another cir- 
 cumstance, that the dangerous encounter 
 to which he was subjected, was really 
 the consequence of some political crisis. 
 Whether there was any foundation for 
 such a report, it was believed, at the 
 time of the Consulate, that the returned 
 emigrants were often employed by 
 government, in affairs of the most deli- 
 cate nature, and were generously re- 
 munerated for their services. Cha- 
 bouillant remembered that the old fop, 
 the former companion of his pretended 
 father's pleasures, had, in the course of 
 conversation, several times mentioned 
 Fouche, and coupling this circumstance 
 with the half-disclosure, which had just 
 been made to them by the agent of 
 police, he soon came to the conclusion, 
 that he was the victim of a denuncia- 
 
 tion on the part of this cursed little 
 man. 
 
 He was making up his mind to the 
 sad necessity of inevitable resignation 
 to his lot, without even daring to put 
 the question to himself, of how the 
 affair was to end, when Morizot, having 
 attentively perused the document, 
 which he held in his hand, returned it 
 to the officer of justice, saying, in an 
 imperative tone : " Very good ; the war- 
 rant appears correct. You will now be 
 good enough to conduct this gentleman 
 and myself, to the house of the prefect 
 of the. police, with whom I have the 
 honour of being acquainted." 
 
 " I should be delighted to accede to 
 your request," replied the officer of 
 justice ; " but it is impossible. My 
 orders are to arrest Monsieur de Bre- 
 vannes, and no one else." 
 
 " It will not be incumbent upon you 
 to keep me a prisoner," replied the 
 commissary ; " I wish you merely to 
 allow me to accompany my son-in-law 
 to the prefect's house, where I feel 
 convinced that my explanation will be 
 heard." 
 
 " I understand ; but I have positive 
 directions not to disturb the prefect upon 
 any pretext. He is to-day overwhelmed 
 with business ; you may suppose, that 
 you are not the only one who desires an 
 interview." 
 
 Upon this, the commissary's temper 
 failed, and his anger was so well feigned, 
 that it completely precluded any idea 
 of an understanding between the col- 
 loquists. 
 
 However, without taking any further 
 notice of the commissary's remonstrance, 
 the myrmidon of justice, turning to Cha- 
 bouillant, desired him to take his place 
 in the carriage. 
 
 The commercial traveller hesitated, 
 and asked where it was their intention 
 to take him ? 
 
 " You will know that afterwards," 
 was the answer given him ; " get in 
 now, and on the road, I shall have time 
 to answer your questions, if I think 
 proper to do so." 
 
 Morizot still insisted upon accompany- 
 ing his son-in-law, and seemed almost 
 inclined to excite him to open resist- 
 ance. 
 
 " Come," said the officer of justice, 
 " we must be off; and if Monsieur does 
 not choose to follow me with a good 
 grace, I have the means of compelling 
 him to submit." 
 
 Thus obliged to consent to what was 
 required of him, the unfortunate Cha-
 
 THE MYSTEEY OF CRIME. 
 
 115 
 
 bouillant decided upon getting into the 
 coach, where he found himself in the 
 agreeable society of two of the muni- 
 cipal guard* in full dress, who main- 
 tained the strictest silence and decorum. 
 While placing himself on the back seat, 
 he heard the functionary still maintain- 
 ing a sharp dispute with Morizot, from 
 whom he parted apparently on the worst 
 terms. The vacant place was then 
 filled by the officer, and the windows of 
 the coach were carefully drawn up. 
 The horses, urged to their utmost speed, 
 started at a pace which their appearance 
 would have forbidden the idea of sup- 
 posing possible, and which would have 
 shamed many more brilliant equipages. 
 
 The journey continued in silence, 
 until Chabouillant demanded with eager 
 curiosity, where he was being conducted 
 in such haste? Xo answer was made 
 him. He then tried to take cognizance 
 of the road by which he was going ; he 
 was roughly desired not to put down 
 the glass, and the thick mist by which 
 it was shortly covered, from the effect 
 of the breath of four people within, soon 
 rendered it impossible for him to acquire 
 the desired information. 
 
 Without any very clear ideas upon 
 the nature of the danger with which he 
 was threatened, the poor fellow began 
 to reflect seriously upon the perilous 
 intrigue in which he was involved, and 
 would have gladly renounced the name 
 and fortune of all the Montmorencies, 
 provided he might only have resumed 
 his character of Chabouillant, the jolly 
 commercial traveller, and once more 
 have found himself at liberty to swagger 
 on the road, in all the importance of 
 tinsel and finery. Already heartily 
 disgusted with the dark aspect of his 
 grandeur, he was pondering upon the 
 best means of returning to the enjoy- 
 ment of his real name, without being 
 subjected to the consequences of his 
 fatal flight into the higher regions of ex- 
 istence, wlxen his rolling prison stopped, 
 and thus prepared him for the dt'noument 
 of his adventure, by warning him that 
 the journey had come to its close. 
 
 The rain, now falling in torrents upon 
 the roof of the coach, impressed the 
 mind with the most forlorn sense of 
 melancholy, by its monotonous sound. 
 
 The officer of justice got out, and 
 having carefully closed the door of the 
 carriage, knocked at the door of a house 
 situated at a small distance. Through 
 the thick fog formed on the inside sur- 
 
 The municipal guard was then in existence, 
 and has since been restored upon the old system. 
 
 face of the glass, and the rain darting 
 upon it from without, Chabouillant dis- 
 covered the glimmer of a light ; almost 
 directly after, the police-agent returned, 
 and desiring the guards to get out, 
 directed Chabouillant to follow their 
 example, and placed him between them. 
 
 Scared by the solitude, silence, and 
 thick darkness which reigned around 
 him, the commercial traveller felt his 
 anxiety reach to a climax, when he 
 thought that he recognised the trunks 
 of several trees, whose dark outline bore 
 a resemblance to misshapen giants, and 
 recollecting the fearful Allee des Veuves, 
 he almost felt himself falling into a man- 
 trap. 
 
 He then made an attempt at resistance, 
 and in a voice which was immediately 
 stifled by his jailors, who took hold of 
 him by the throat, he screamed out : 
 "Help ! murder !" 
 
 But in that fearful weather, and in a 
 place almost destitute of inhabitants, it 
 was not likely that any one should come 
 to his aid ; roughly urged on by three 
 strong men, who were evidently re- 
 gardless of the pain they might inflict 
 upon their captive, he felt, after the 
 lapse of a few moments, the door of the 
 house closed upon him and Heaven 
 only knows the kind of hospitality, 
 which he was likely to meet with in 
 such a place ! 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN the half-lighted room into which 
 Chabouillant was now forced, instead of 
 the magistrate, before whom he had 
 expected to appear at the time of his 
 arrest, he found only a woman, who 
 had not at all the air of a servant ; never- 
 theless, the supposed peace-officer said 
 to her : " Let us have a little fire, for I 
 am wet through ; and see if you can 
 find a bottle of good wine, tj amuse 
 these gentlemen who are waiting out- 
 side." 
 
 The woman immediately went out, to 
 execute these orders. 
 
 " Sir," said the commander of the 
 expedition to Chabouillant, " you have 
 been pleased to take some interest in a ' 
 painful event, the knowledge of which 
 you obtained somewhat indiscreetly, in 
 a tavern at Offenburg. I thought it 
 might be agreeable to you, to complete 
 your information upon the subject. It 
 was there, in the next room, now occu- 
 pied by my honourable friends, that the 
 unfortunate circumstance happened. It 
 was in this apartment, that the unhappy
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 gentleman was afterwards deposited, 
 and he was seated in this very arm- 
 chair, still standing in the same place 
 for the house has not since been visited 
 previous to his ultimate removal. 
 You see, that I tell you everything." 
 
 This impudent and ironical confidence 
 was evidently intended to fill the soul 
 of the captive with terror ; but it did 
 not produce the anticipated effect. Cha- 
 bouillant was a brave man, and, once 
 recovered from the first shock, was re- 
 solved, that, if he must die, it should 
 not be like a coward. He therefore 
 answered boldly : " It is then probably 
 to one of the gentlemen-murderers, that 
 I have the honour of speaking r" 
 
 " That is hardly the word," replied 
 Legros, without any emotion; "and 
 since you have taken the trouble to lis- 
 ten to my conversation with my wife, 
 you must know, that the affair took 
 place against our will, and that we were 
 only accomplices after the fact." 
 
 " It is indeed a distinction worth 
 noting," returned the commercial tra- 
 veller. 
 
 " No doubt, it is of importance ; and 
 I will add, that, for a man who intended 
 to turn a discovery to advantage, you 
 have really acted with very little skill. 
 Instead of going to Morizot, who is a 
 very difficult person to deal with, you 
 should have come to me, and informed 
 me of your ideas and pretensions. By 
 means of an alliance offensive and de- 
 fensive, and by uniting all our resources 
 of action and influence, we should have 
 been able to do wonders with the capi- 
 talist, and you would not have been 
 brought to the difficult pass in which 
 you now are." 
 
 " Really," thought Chabouillant, " in- 
 stead of seeking my life, this good man 
 seems to wish to make me some pro- 
 posal." 
 
 " But," continued Legros, "the affair 
 has taken its course, as you would have 
 it ; you have publicly announced your- 
 self as the son of the marquis ; you have 
 entered on a negotiation of marriage 
 with Morizot ; all that is imprudent, 
 rotten, badly constructed and I must 
 now look to my own safety." 
 
 " And to secure your safety, what do 
 you mean to do ?" asked Chabouillant, 
 hastily, for he was impatient to know 
 the fate reserved for him. 
 
 At this moment, the Saint-Martin re- 
 entered the room, bringing with her all 
 that was necessary to light the fire. 
 Displaying extraordinary self-possession 
 which made him. appear a very dan- 
 
 gerous adversary Legros quitted the 
 conversation, to give his accomplice 
 some directions as to the best manner 
 of laying the wood, so that it might 
 burn well. After this, placing a chair 
 for Chabouillant, and taking one him- 
 self, he resumed : " If I were a sangui- 
 nary brute, like Morizot, your business 
 would soon be settled. We are the 
 strongest ; a stab with a dagger is soon 
 given; and a hole dug in the cellar, 
 with a cask placed over it, to hide the 
 spot, would keep everything snug." 
 
 " Those things are discovered sooner 
 or later," answered the commercial tra- 
 veller ; " and you see, that even in this 
 affair of the marquis " 
 
 " Once bit, twice shy," replied the 
 lawyer ; "we should know how to take 
 our precautions. But, all things con- 
 sidered, it does not enter into my views, 
 or those of this lady, to go to any cruel 
 extremities." 
 
 " Well ! leaving my interests out of 
 the question," said Chabouillant, anxi- 
 ous to urge this consideration, " I think 
 you are right in treating me with some 
 forbearance. I told Mr. Morizot, and I 
 now tell you, that I have deposited in 
 the hands of a friend certain papers of a 
 very delicate nature, which my death 
 would almost immediately bring to 
 light." 
 
 " Ha ! by the bye," resumed the law- 
 yer, as if he had just thought of some 
 matter of trifling detail, " I knew that 
 1 had something to tell you on that 
 head." And therewith he thrust his 
 hand into the pocket of his great- coat, 
 and said to the commercial traveller, as 
 he drew out a small casket: " Do you 
 know this?" 
 
 Chabouillant remained staring with 
 stupefied amazement. The casket which 
 he had entrusted to Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau, was in the hands of his adversary. 
 
 " This surprises you," resumed Le- 
 gros, " and you did not expect such an 
 apparition ; but another time, my dear 
 fellow, you will learn from experience, 
 that when one has something concealed 
 which one wishes' to visit, it is best to 
 proceed straightforwards, and without 
 making windings and turnings in the 
 neighbourhood, which are likely to put 
 anyone who is watching you on the 
 scent. And now," added this cunning 
 man of business, who took pleasure in 
 displaying the resources of his inventive 
 genius, " if you are curious to know the 
 manner in which I extracted the venom 
 with which you wished to infect us, I 
 can inform you that the operation was
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 n; 
 
 neither long nor painful. In the same 
 dress, and with the same friends that 
 have been useful to me in carrying you 
 off, I had previously made my appear- 
 ance at the Tricoloured Prism, where I 
 gave out that I had come to search the 
 premises, in consequence of Moreau's 
 arrest, which has put all Paris in com- 
 motion. Heaven, which sometimes 
 protects innocence, permitted the mis- 
 tress of the establishment, who, I had 
 been told, was capable of making a very 
 troublesome opposition, to be absent 
 when I presented myself. 1 was under 
 the painful necessity of putting her fur- 
 niture and cupboards in a little disorder, 
 for I must do her the justice to say, that 
 your deposit was carefully concealed ; 
 but at length, here it is, and I am in- 
 clined to think, that you are from this 
 moment my very humble and obedient 
 servant." 
 
 "Admitting me to be in your power," 
 said Chabouillant, with nervoxis volu- 
 bility, " what do you expect from me r" 
 
 Legros rose from his seat, fetched a 
 small table, which he placed before the 
 commercial traveller, and put a light 
 upon it ; he then felt in lu's pocket, and 
 drew forth a pistol. 
 
 " I have made a mistake, that is not 
 what I want," said he, replacing his 
 weapon where he had taken it from ; 
 and to the pistol for his pocket seemed 
 to be a true magazine- succeeded a 
 peaceful horn-inkstand, similar to those 
 used by schoolboys, a packet of pens 
 ready mended, and some rumpled and 
 5'ello \v-looking sheets of paper, all which 
 articles he placed within reach of the 
 prisoner. 
 
 " Now, my young giddypate," said 
 he, " you must write, and that too in the 
 legible, bold hand with which we are 
 already acquainted, from your amiable 
 attention in setting down our edifying 
 little history." 
 
 " But what do you want me to writer" 
 inquired Chabouillant. 
 
 " I am going to dictate to you, and 
 you will not have to draw in the least 
 degree upon your imagination. Well, 
 are we agreed:" 
 
 " I must yet know what you intend 
 
 " My dear friend," said the man of 
 law, " you do not thoroughly under- 
 stand the question, and I must place it 
 clearly before you." 
 
 Then, producing his pistol again, he 
 said, at the same time raising his voice : 
 " This is an instrument which, in one 
 moment, can open for you the gate of 
 
 the other world. I have close at hand," 
 added he, " some obliging friends, to 
 whom I need say only a word, in order 
 for them to take part in the tragedy, as 
 they have already figured in the little 
 introductory piece. We are armed, and 
 (including the lady) four against one ; 
 moreover, the scene is laid in a certain 
 house in the Widows' Walk, of which 
 you have heard speak, and where you 
 know people are got rid of without fear 
 of interruption. Thus I am master of 
 your life : this, I think, is well under- 
 stood." 
 
 " Well, what then ?" resolutely cried 
 Chabouillant. 
 
 " I do not want your life, or at least 
 I do not want it but at the last extre- 
 mity ; but I want my safety. What I 
 am going to dictate, will insure it. It 
 is now therefore for you to choose ; do 
 you prefer a bullet in your head, or to 
 write what I tell you :" 
 
 Having considered within himself, 
 that there would always be time to 
 choose the other alternative, Chabouil- 
 lant took the pen, and placed himself in 
 a posture for writing. 
 
 " I am ready, sir," said he, looking 
 at Legros. 
 
 " Date from Offenburg, January 9th, 
 1804." 
 
 " So far, there is nothing to frighten 
 my modesty," said the commercial tra- 
 veller, affecting a careless coolness. 
 
 " Well, go on," continued the man of 
 law ; " ' My dear Mr. Morizot,' it is to 
 Morizot that you are writing." 
 
 " I would rather write to anybody 
 else," replied Chabouillant, in the same 
 tone. 
 
 " Yes, but we have no choice," said 
 Legros, resuming his dictation : 
 
 " ' My dear Mr. Morizot, I have done 
 more than procure information respect- 
 ing the ci-devant Marquis de Brev , 
 
 who has not had sufficient friendship 
 for you, to die, according to the first 
 report. I have seen him, I have spoken 
 to him, and, by reason of the terrible 
 account that you would have to settle 
 with him, there is no choice left for you, 
 unless you cleverly get rid of Mm 
 
 " I will not write that," said the 
 commercial traveller, laying down his 
 pen ; " you wish to prove me your 
 accomplice." 
 
 " I natter myself that I shall do so," 
 rejoined the man of law ; " doubtless, 
 you did not fancy, that I conducted you 
 hither with so much ceremony, in order 
 to write love-letters." 
 
 As, notwithstanding the incontestable
 
 118 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 justice of this observation, Chabouillant 
 still appeared to hesitate, Legros said to 
 the Saint-Martin : " My dear, be kind 
 enough to beg those gentlemen to walk 
 in, for Monsieur begins to make me 
 impatient, and we must come to a con- 
 clusion." 
 
 These words, uttered in a concise and 
 resolute tone of voice, appeared to poor 
 Chabouillant to imply the serious me- 
 nace of a sentence of death, and, im-, 
 pelled by the instinct of self-preserva- 
 tion, he again prepared to write. 
 
 Taking up the sentence where it had 
 been interrupted, Legros, who recom- 
 menced dictating, said : " ' Cleverly get 
 rid of him. I further inform you, that 
 the said marquis intends, very shortly, 
 returning to France by way of Strasburg. 
 Now, what prudence and good policy 
 counsel, is this : to wait at the frontier 
 with a good conveyance, to bring him 
 to Paris without allowing him to alight, 
 and, under the pretext of procuring for 
 him an asylum until his position as an 
 emigrant can be settled, to conduct him 
 to your charming little house in the 
 Widows' Wall;, where he will find some- 
 one with whom he will have to do. 
 Finally, I hope that, should this infor- 
 mation appear to you of some value, we 
 shall find no difficulty in coming to a 
 settlement, for I shall not exact much, 
 if you are generous. I send this letter 
 by a private opportunity, it being of a 
 very delicate nature for the post. 
 
 " ' Heartily yours, and hoping soon 
 to see you. 
 
 " ' Your affectionate " ' 
 
 " Now sign your name," added the 
 man of law. 
 
 " I am to sign that?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; is it more difficult 
 to sign than to write it?" 
 
 Chabouillant not appearing to have 
 made up his mind, Madame de Saint- 
 Alar tin now interfered, saying : " Sign 
 your name, sir sign; otherwise, I 
 assure you that this affair will terminate 
 badly." 
 
 Chabouillant, in despair, pressed his 
 head between his hands, and Legros 
 presenting to him the pen, he decided 
 upon affixing his name. 
 
 Legros immediately took possession 
 of the letter, folded and sealed it, and, 
 after having obliged the commercial 
 traveller to address it, he carefully shut 
 it up in his pocket-book. 
 
 " Now," said Legros, placing before 
 the singular secretary he had chosen, a 
 fresh sheet of paper, ' we will proceed 
 
 to another exercise, and it is with me 
 you are going to correspond." 
 
 " What ! another letter r" impatiently 
 exclaimed the commercial traveller. 
 
 " Undoubtedly; there are several of 
 us interested in the business, and every 
 one must have his right." 
 
 Chabouillant could write nothing 
 which would compromise him more 
 than did the letter which was already 
 in Legros' hands. Not having then any 
 great interest to offer resistance, he took 
 the pen, and, being also desirous to see 
 the unravelling of his adventure, he 
 wrote as follows, without once stopping 
 or interrupting himself by any observa- 
 tion : 
 
 " Paris, January 30th, 1804. 
 
 " My dear Legros, Your friend Mo- 
 rizot is a terribly stingy fellow. Guess 
 what he offers me for having hunted 
 down the game for him which you know 
 of? The miserable sum of ten thousand 
 francs. But 1 will be even with him 
 yet, and I have a rod in pickle for him. 
 I have formed an audacious little plan, 
 which is neither more nor less than to 
 make myself his son-in-law; and he 
 may reckon himself fortunate, if he gets 
 out of the business for four hundred 
 thousand livres. You were wrong to 
 take fright and exile yourself, for every- 
 thing here is very quiet. Return then, 
 to assist me in my charming design, of 
 which your cooperation will insure the 
 success. I need not tell you, that I 
 know better than Morizot how to be 
 grateful for a good service rendered. 
 The friend who will deliver this letter 
 to you, will further inform you how I 
 intend settling our common interest. 
 Hoping we shall soon meet, believe in 
 all the friendly sentiments of your very 
 affectionate 
 
 " CHA.BOUILLA.XT." 
 
 The letter was already folded and 
 ready to be sealed, when Legros changed 
 his mind, and, returning it to the com- 
 mercial traveller, said : " Write as a 
 postscript, ' The chances of the roulette 
 are very pernicious this year; I have 
 all the odds against me. I never once 
 play without losing, and I have great 
 need of refeathering my nest.' " 
 
 " Do you see, my boy," said Legros, 
 whilst sealing the letter (upon which 
 Chabouillant afterwards wrote, Mr. 
 Legros, lawyer, Ojfenburg}, " this little 
 postscript is designed to explain our 
 acquaintance. And now," continued 
 the adroit practitioner, apparently 
 taking much pleasure in the contem-
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CHIME. 
 
 119 
 
 plation of his skill, " understand well 
 the mechanism of this combination. By 
 means of a skilful and happy coinci- 
 dence, with certain evident facts, which 
 have publicly taken place, the two 
 epistles which you have just finished, 
 establish, in a most satisfactory manner 
 to your profit (as well as on every other 
 point), that you are our accomplice. 
 Should it please you to inform against 
 us, you can gratify your fancy ; but 
 then we should bring forward these 
 two papers emanating from yourself, 
 and with the explanations with which 
 they would be accompanied, if we did 
 not prove you to be one of us, you 
 would, in faith, be not a little expert." 
 
 " But, my dear," remarked the Saint- 
 Martin, and her observation, on a sxiper- 
 ficial view of the case, seemed a very 
 judicious one, " you do not consider, 
 that the letters of this gentleman, in 
 compromising him, are at the same time 
 an additional proof that the affair in 
 question has taken place." 
 
 " You have really found out that!" 
 disdainfully replied Legros, " and you 
 imagine that this did not enter into my 
 calculation ; but the more these letters 
 are against us, the less appearance have 
 they of being written by our influence, 
 and the greater belief they must obtain 
 in the eyes of justice." 
 
 " It is perhaps possible," rejoined the 
 matron, who appeared to be but par- 
 tially persuaded of the truth of this 
 argument. 
 
 " Besides, our success will entirely 
 depend upon the manner in which we 
 make use of them, as well as upon 
 profiting by the right moment to bring 
 them forward. For example, if you, 
 sir, were to try to get us into trouble, 
 you might fancy that we should assu- 
 redly produce them immediately r" 
 
 " By Jove !" replied the matron, " I 
 think it is useless having a weapon, un- 
 less one makes use of it." 
 
 " Well, for my part, I should con- 
 duct the affair quite in a different man- 
 ner," replied the profound diplomatist. 
 " Should this gentleman dare to accuse 
 us, I should let him go on, and defend 
 myself as well as I could, without 
 making use of recrimination. But 
 should our sentence be pronounced, 
 and we be found guilty, I should then 
 ask to make some disclosures ; I should 
 produce these letters, and it would be 
 thought that I had purposely kept them 
 in petto, because they contained accusa- 
 tions against myself, then we should see 
 how the informer, who had so impru- 
 
 dently stepped forward, would extricate 
 himself from this cunningly -laid trap." 
 
 " Here is a great deal of ingenuity 
 thrown away," said Ghabouillant ; " I 
 assure you that I have had quite 
 enough of this marquis -business, and I 
 shall not breathe another syllable about 
 it to any living soul." 
 
 Thinking that his adversary was now 
 completely subdued, Legros became 
 considerably softened; he judged that 
 things had taken a different turn, and 
 regarded Chabouillant as being depend- 
 ent upon him. Returning then in a 
 friendly manner to the idea that he had 
 started as a feeler at the beginning of 
 the conversation, he said : " Well, my 
 dear fellow, you are wrong to throw 
 away dirty water, before you get clean, 
 and you always run into extremes. It 
 was all very fine, no doubt, to wish to 
 profit by the secret you had discovered, 
 in order to procure yourself a good 
 position in the world, and cast your net 
 for a fortune ; but there were a thou- 
 sand difficulties in the way of this pro- 
 ject. You must not let the goose 
 squeak out too much, whilst you are 
 stealing its feathers." 
 
 " I repeat," rejoined the commercial 
 traveller, "that I give in my full and 
 complete resignation." 
 
 " And I also repeat, that you are 
 wrong to do so, for Morizot is not alto- 
 gether invulnerable ; he has a certain 
 way of behaving towards his associates, 
 which makes him deserve a rap over 
 the knuckles, and if you were in a 
 reasonable mood, I do not say but that 
 a little society might be formed for 
 working a mine 
 
 Several loud knocks at the street-door 
 interrupted Legios in the midst of this 
 sentence, and one of the honourable 
 friends whom he had posted in the hall, 
 half-opening the door of the drawing- 
 room, informed the man of law of 
 the alarming noise which was heard 
 without. 
 
 Informed of the rapping at the street- 
 door, Legros exclaimed : "It must be 
 Morizot ; not finding us at the Faubourg 
 Saint-Martin, where I appointed him, 
 he suspected that we were here. I am 
 sorry that we were not already gone, 
 for we shall be obliged to have a set-to 
 with him. And it was your fault, my 
 dear fellow," added he, addressing the 
 commercial traveller, " for not making 
 an end to your resistance by my troth! 
 so much tlie worse for you, if you meet 
 with any misfortune." 
 
 Chabouillant might, with a very good
 
 120 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 grace, have retorted the accusation, and 
 told Legros, that the verbose and subtle 
 manner in which he had made known 
 his plans, was in reality the cause of the 
 delay which he so much regretted ; but 
 the poor fellow's attention being princi- 
 pally occupied by the lawyer's last 
 words, which led him to fear a fresh 
 complication of things, and new dan- 
 gers, he thought it better to remain 
 silent, and summon up all his courage. 
 
 In the meantime, the knocks at the 
 door continued, and bespoke furious 
 impatience in whoever was without. 
 
 " Shall I open the door?" asked the 
 Saint-Martin. 
 
 " Yes, go," replied the lawyer ; and 
 as the matron left the room, he said to 
 Chabouillant : " Do not utter a word ; 
 do not contradict what I advance, and 
 leave all to me." 
 
 The next moment, the commissary 
 entered. His clothes were streaming 
 with water, for he had been unable to 
 procure a coach, and' had been obliged 
 to walk the long round he was compelled 
 to take, in the midst of a pelting rain. 
 
 Pale with cold and anger, he was 
 frightful to look upon, and a shudder 
 passed through Chabouillant's heart, 
 when Morizot, after having regarded 
 him with the look of a tiger, said in a 
 hollow voice to the lawyer : " You will 
 doubtless explain to me, sir, the mean- 
 ing of the pleasantry, which I have just 
 been subjected to." 
 
 " There is no pleasantry in the 
 matter," replied Legros ; " I had as- 
 sured you, that we did not want your 
 assistance, and you should not have 
 come." 
 
 " But what do you mean by telling 
 me that you intend going to one place, 
 and then going to another r" 
 
 " Not at all ; it was my intention to 
 drive where I told you ; but, on reflec- 
 tion, I thought that this place Avas 
 nearer, and that we should be more at 
 our ease here." 
 
 " More at your ease, and for what r" 
 said Morizot, without taking the trouble 
 to conceal that his thoughts were berit 
 upon murder ; " this man is still in the 
 land of the living, when an end ought 
 already to have been made of him." 
 
 "But everything is now settled,' 
 tranquilly rejoined the lawyer ; "I 
 must even own that this gentleman has 
 behaved in a very accommodating and 
 delicate manner." 
 
 " Accomodating in what r" demanded 
 the commissary, in a sharp tone ; " you 
 well know, that there is but one way of 
 
 treating with him ; either he or we 
 must disappear from this world." 
 
 " That is your opinion," said Legros ; 
 " but you know, that neither I nor this 
 lady think so." 
 
 " What great security then has he 
 offered you ? Will he marry your mis- 
 tress instead of my daughter ? Perhaps, 
 you have obliged him to take some 
 terrible oath, which he will laugh at, as 
 soon as he is out of our hands :" 
 
 " Oh ! an oath r" said Jhe lawyer, 
 shrugging his shoulders ; " you must 
 think me very green !" 
 
 " In short, you have done something 
 since you have been here, and I think 
 you may deign to inform me 
 
 " This is what I have settled," replied 
 Legros : "a letter addressed to you, 
 and one to me ;" and he gave the two 
 letters to his patron to peruse. 
 
 One valuable quality possessed by 
 Morizot, Avas, that, letting business 
 take the preference of everything else, 
 he was able to keep cool, even in the 
 most excited state of mind, in order to 
 make himself master of a case, and then 
 to decide accordingly. 
 
 He therefore now seated himself near 
 the chimney-piece, took up his eyeglass, 
 for his sight was somewhat impaired 
 by age, and began to read with much 
 attention. 
 
 Having satisfied himself as to the 
 nature of the contents, he made a move- 
 ment, as if he were going to throw the 
 letters into the fire, saying at the same 
 time : " Is it on these pieces of paper, 
 that you intend building our safety " 
 
 " Assuredly," replied Legros, snatch- 
 ing the letters out of his hand ; and he 
 recommenced in nearly the same terms, 
 the commentary which he had already 
 delivered for the edification of the Saint- 
 Martin. 
 
 '- " You were speaking just now of being 
 green," exclaimed the commissary ; 
 " you ought to have called yourself 
 completely raw." 
 
 " Then this arrangement does not 
 suit you r" 
 
 " Not at all," replied Morizot ; then, 
 addressing himself to Madame de Saint- 
 Martin, he added : " Tell those people 
 who are waiting, to come to speak to 
 me." 
 
 " Those people did not come to do 
 what you are meditating," replied the 
 lawyer, " and they will not comply 
 with your wish." 
 
 " Why not ? do they not follow the 
 same trade every day at No. 113 ? and 
 if I pay them accordingly !"
 
 " I tell you they will not do it ; and, 
 at all events, I oppose its being done." 
 
 " Ah ! I see you are crossing over to 
 the side of virtue." 
 
 " The question is not of virtue, but of 
 prudence. Already, once before, with- 
 out consulting us, and contrary to our 
 opinion, you proceeded to violence. To 
 what hiis that led us ? To oblige us to 
 begin afresh." 
 
 "It is to be hoped, that, this time, 
 you will be able to hold your tongue." 
 
 " Yes ; amongst five accomplices, 
 that we should be, a secret is so easily 
 kept!" 
 
 10 
 
 " This is foolish talking," resolutely 
 exclaimed Morizot ; " happen what may, 
 this gentleman must be made away 
 with." 
 
 It must be acknowledged, that the 
 situation in which Chabouillant was 
 placed, was a strange one : no other 
 than Morizot, thirsting for revenge, 
 could speak with such horrible cool- 
 ness concerning a man's death in his 
 presence. 
 
 The commercial traveller experienced 
 a moment of terrible agony, for his de- 
 fender at first remained silent, as if 
 bending to the authority of these im-
 
 122 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OR, 
 
 perious words ; butLegros seemed sud- 
 denly inspired with a thought. 
 
 " You must, however," said he to his 
 accomplice, " renounce your design, and 
 you will yourself acknowledge the ne- 
 cessity of doing so." 
 
 " You will never persuade me," re- 
 plied^ the commissary, "that, if I meet 
 with a mad-dog, I am to caress instead 
 of destroy him." 
 
 " But if this gentleman had a friend, 
 who kept watch over his life, and in 
 whose hands some dangerous papers 
 
 " You wrote to me yourself, that you 
 were master of the deposit." 
 
 " Yes, of one ; but not of two," re- 
 plied Legros, with most perfect com- 
 posure. 
 
 "How!" said Morizot, addressing 
 Chabouillant, with comic fury; "you 
 have had the precaution to provide 
 yourself with another confidant r" 
 
 " With your permission," replied 
 Chabouillant, giving proof of .great pre- 
 sence of mind, " I knew you, Mr. father- 
 in-law, and acted accordingly." 
 
 "Malediction!" exclaimed Morizot; 
 " to think that I cannot revenge myself 
 upon this scoundrel !" and, with dis- 
 appointment difficult to describe, he 
 strode hastily up and down the room. 
 
 Profiting by the moment when his 
 accomplice, whom he was deceiving, 
 was still under the influence of his sur- 
 prise, Legros said to the Saint-Martin : 
 " Get him out" and, at the same time, 
 he found means to whisper to the man, 
 whose escape he was favouring : "I will 
 see you to-morrow; vre have to talk 
 over many things." 
 
 When the commissary saw the inten- 
 tion of setting his enemy at liberty, the 
 fear of losing his revenge made him 
 suspect that Legros was playing him a 
 trick, and he started forward, exclaiming : 
 " Yoxi will not let this man go " 
 
 " But what the devil will you do 
 with him?" replied the lawyer, inter- 
 posing to favour the escape of the fugi- 
 tive. 
 
 Without answering him, Morizot 
 rushed after Chabouillant, and on his 
 part Legros did all in his power to de- 
 tain his accomplice ; so that a real 
 conflict took place between them, and 
 they collared each other, offering the 
 strange spectacle of what might be 
 termed a civil Avar. 
 
 Fortunately, a few seconds after, the 
 house-door was heard to shut, and the 
 entrance of the Saint-Martin unaccom- 
 panied, into the apartment, showed 
 
 Morizot the inutility of offering any 
 further violence. 
 
 Breathless from the rough conflict he 
 had just had with his accomplice, Mori- 
 zot threw himself into an arm-chair, 
 where for a moment he took breath. 
 Then, addressing himself to Legros in a 
 tone which testified lively resentment : 
 "After what has just taken place," 
 said he, "you must understand, that 
 everything is at an end between us." 
 
 "And why?" asked the lawyer, 
 without seeming to care much for this 
 menace of a rupture taking place. 
 
 " There was evidently some conni- 
 vance between you and that man ; your 
 conduct is infamous." 
 
 " You are mad," replied Legros ; " I 
 have saved you from an abyss into 
 which you were going to tjirow your- 
 self, and you wish to quarrel with me 
 for it !" 
 
 " You are right ; I am mad for having 
 given my confidence for so many years, 
 to a scoundrel of your stamp." 
 
 "Ah! let me tell you though," said 
 the lawyer, much moved by this gross 
 abuse, "I begin to be tired of all this, 
 and as the occasion offers, we must 
 come to some explanation . I am a 
 scoundrel, you say r it is possible that I 
 am ; but I should like to know, by 
 whose means and for whose sake I be- 
 came one r You coveted an unhappy 
 girl we gave her up to you ; a fortune 
 which you required, sprinkled with 
 blood we still were faithful to you. 
 For twenty years, the tool of all your base 
 acts, of your exactions, of your usuries, 
 I prostituted in your service, skill which 
 I might have employed honestly on 
 my own account ; and now, what is my 
 reward ? When probably on the point 
 of being exiles from our native land, 
 you threw us a paltry alms. Do you 
 call this probity or justice ? and are you 
 not a greater scoundrel than I am ?" 
 
 " But you well know, that I should 
 not have let you want," rejoined Mo- 
 rizot, assuming a milder tone ; for this 
 vigorous sally had taken him by sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "That is not the question," replied 
 Legros ; " and I do not need your 
 charity. We are not master and ser- 
 vant, but accomplices ; only according 
 to your account, the one is to have all 
 the benefit, and the other all the loss." 
 
 " Well said !" exclaimed the Saint- 
 Martin, encouraging the lawyer to raise 
 the standard of revolt. 
 
 " Well then ! for the future, it shall 
 not be thus," rejoined Legros, becoming
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CKIME. 
 
 123 
 
 more animated. " If you wish to mur- 
 der, as you like dabbling in blood, you 
 may murder alone ; and with regard to 
 other matters, which may be more to 
 my taste, and which we shall undertake 
 in common, we will divide the profit, 
 Mr. Potentate ; or I am your humble 
 servant, and make not one of the 
 party." 
 
 " Be it so," replied the commissary ; 
 " you wish to essay your skill alone, 
 and we shall see what you can do with- 
 out me." 
 
 " First though, with your permission, 
 we will close a little account of arrears. 
 When a partnership is dissolved, the 
 affairs are liquidated." 
 
 "What do you mean?" proudly de- 
 manded Morizot. 
 
 " I mean to say, that the paltry sum 
 of ten thousand francs, which you 
 allotted to us at the death of the mar- 
 quis, an only be regarded as so much 
 on account." 
 
 " You jest, my dear fellow, and I 
 have done more than you could justly 
 expect." 
 
 " According to your idea, perhaps ; 
 but, according to mine, I am far from 
 giving any receipt." 
 
 Morizot contented himself with shrug- 
 ging his shoulders, and, taking up his 
 hat, prepared to depart alone. 
 
 Persons who for a length of time have 
 been subjected to a rough yoke, go to 
 greater lengths than others, when they 
 have once broken their chain. 
 
 This was now the case with Legros ; 
 running to place himself in front of the 
 door : " You were speaking just now," 
 said he, " of calling in the men, who are 
 waiting in the next room, and I main- 
 tained that they would not execute your 
 orders." 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed Morizot, with a 
 resolute air. 
 
 " Will you call them in now," re- 
 joined Legros, "and submit to them the 
 dispute between us ? With the high 
 sense of justice which I know them to 
 possess, I wager that they will decide 
 the cause in my favour." 
 
 " If not for my sake, at least for 
 your own, you will not admit a set of 
 gallows-birds into matters of so secret a 
 nature." 
 
 "You no doubt understand by that 
 term, men of resolution, ready to do 
 anything. The greater reason to depend 
 upon them. Suppose I were to propose 
 to them a good hit ; for example, the 
 pillage of a commissary-general ; do you 
 think they would refuse ?" 
 
 It so happened, that, at the moment 
 when Legros was uttering this menace 
 in pretty clear terms, one of his satel- 
 lites, partly opening the drawing-room 
 door, said : " Now that you have 
 plucked your bird (meaning Chabouil- 
 lant, whom he had seen go out), have 
 you not soon done with your confabula- 
 tion?" 
 
 " Wait a moment longer," replied the 
 lawyer; then turning to Morizot : "You 
 see, my dogs are getting impatient, and 
 it is my opinion, that, if I were now to 
 let them loose, they would bite hard." 
 
 " Ah, Legros !" exclaimed the com- 
 missary, in an affecting tone ; " I should 
 never have expected this from you you 
 whom I have always considered a model 
 of delicacy and probity." 
 
 " What can I do ? one gets tired of 
 everything, even of being a dupe ; and 
 then, with Chabouillant at large, our 
 trade is now worth nothing, and I wish 
 to retire from business." 
 
 " But, in short, what do you want ?" 
 said Morizot, who knew that his dear 
 Legros was capable of anything ; " you 
 certainly have not the intention to ruin 
 me and my family ?" 
 
 "Madame de Saint-Martin," answered 
 the lawyer, employing this evasive man- 
 ner of speaking, in order to fix a certain 
 sum, " has always been of opinion, that 
 the service rendered to you in the last 
 affair of the marquis, if worth a farthing, 
 was worth a hundred thousand francs." 
 
 " Madame de Saint-Martin," replied 
 Morizot, " is really not reasonable. ' 
 
 " Arich man like you, worth millions," 
 said the lady whose name had just been 
 brought forward, " to bargain about 
 such a trifle !" 
 
 " Well, shall we conclude at this 
 price?" said Legros; " or must I call 
 in the arbitrators ?" 
 
 Morizot, thus driven into a corner, 
 replied: "I must needs consent, for 
 you negociate with a pistol at my 
 throat." 
 
 Then, like a drowning man trying to 
 find any straw to take hold of, he con- 
 tinued : " Your mistress at one time 
 wished for this house ; it is worth more 
 than the sum you name." 
 
 " This house !" eagerly exclaimed the 
 Saint-Martin ; " after what has hap- 
 pened here, I would not have it, were 
 it worth three times the amount." 
 
 " And besides," replied Legros, " for 
 people whose affairs may call them, from 
 one moment to another, into a foreign 
 country, property that can be removed 
 is more convenient."
 
 124 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 " But you know, my dear fellow, that 
 I have not the money about me, and 
 you must be satisfied with my word." 
 
 " Oh ! you are good for this sum, and 
 for many others besides ; but everyone 
 has his little whims, and you know that 
 in business matters, I like to have secu- 
 rity." 
 
 " Well ! shall we sign a private agree- 
 ment, which we can afterwards get 
 legalized before a notary >" 
 
 "Pshaw!" exclaimed Legros; "I 
 would rather settle the matter at once." 
 And Providence at that moment putting 
 into his mouth the words which, on a 
 former occasion, he had addressed to 
 Chevillard, he continued : " And in fact, 
 being yourself engaged in trade, you 
 can have no objection to the formality 
 the purely commercial formality of 
 a bill of exchange " 
 
 " I like to pay ready money," replied 
 Morizot, in a tone of pleasantry, " and do 
 not choose to have bills drawn upon me.' ' 
 
 "What can be done-" rejoined the 
 lawyer, taking from his pocket-book 
 some stamped paper, of which he always 
 carried a good supply about with him, 
 as other people earned their watch or 
 their handkerchief. " I see, that we 
 shall run aground just as we have arrived 
 at port, for those men in the next room 
 are getting impatient." 
 
 " Well, let us make a finish to it," 
 said Morizot, in a tone of feverish de- 
 cision ; " what must I write :" 
 
 " Why," quietly rejoined Legros, 
 " you know the form : ' Please to pay 
 at sight, on this bill of exchange ' " 
 
 Swallowing the bitter draught, the 
 commissary took the pen, and signed 
 the engagement. 
 
 Legros examined it carefully, to see 
 that nothing was wanting; then, after 
 shutting it up in his pocket-book : " It 
 is to be regretted," said he, in a senti- 
 mental voice, " that old friends like we 
 are, whose interest in so many instances 
 is the same, and who are, after all, united 
 by ties almost indissoluble it is, 1 say, 
 grievous and afflicting to see them part 
 on bad terms." 
 
 " Ah ! cruel man that you are !" ex- 
 claimed Morizot, in the same tone for 
 he felt that their mutual safety de- 
 manded, provisionally at least," that 
 their union should continue " how 
 could you think of acting such a scene, 
 in so critical a moment, and beneath the 
 enemv's fire?" 
 
 " Well," said Legros, " let us mutu- 
 ally forgive any foolish words that may 
 have passed between us." 
 
 " You know that I bear no rancour," 
 said the commissary. 
 
 " And I, no malice," said the lawyer. 
 
 " Ah ! you obstinate creatures, em- 
 brace one another !" exclaimed the Saint- 
 Martin ; "for you have just had a lovers' 
 quarrel, and, like lovers, you must put 
 an end to it." 
 
 The two friends fell into each other's 
 arms, and gave a fraternal embrace, with 
 feelings which one may well conceive. 
 
 This formality over, Legros opened 
 the drawing-room door, and, addressing 
 himself to his friends, the redrcssers of 
 wrongs at Xo. 113, said: " We are at 
 your service, my brave fellows. I beg 
 pardon for having detained you thus 
 long ; but our business is now settled, 
 and we are ready to go." 
 
 He then reentered the apartment, and 
 gave a look round, to see whether he 
 had left any papers about, and if every- 
 thing was in order. 
 
 This done, they all left the house, 
 and, before packing his followers into 
 the hackney-coach, the lawyer said, 
 addressing Morizot : " Will you profit 
 by our conveyance r" 
 
 " Thank you," replied the commis- 
 sary, " the rain has ceased, and I require 
 a little fresh air." 
 
 He accordingly proceeded alone, whilst 
 the coach regained the interior of Paris. 
 Legros took his friends to the Rue de 
 Valois, where lie set them down at some 
 distance from their head-quarters. 
 
 From thence, he caused himself to be 
 driven, together with the Saint-Martin, 
 to his apartments in the Rue des Mou- 
 lins ; and on the road, he said to that 
 honourable lady: "Are you at last 
 satisfied r" 
 
 " Yes, it is not so bad, if the bill of 
 exchange is paid." 
 
 " Rest satisfied ; to-morrow morning, 
 I am to meet the other one." 
 
 " What other :" demanded the Saint- 
 Martin. 
 
 " Why, Chabouillant. He is a reso- 
 lute fellow, who in faith hazarded a bold 
 stroke. I think, that, by coming to 
 some understanding together, we shall 
 find Mr. Commissary plenty to do." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WE have already seen that Chabouil- 
 lant, almost immediately after his arrest, 
 had begun to get out of conceit with the 
 enterprise in which he had engaged. 
 
 Carried away by an ardent desire /to 
 fix a parentage for himself, on some one 
 or other, he had, immediately upon dis-
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 123 
 
 covering the secret at OfFenburg, rather 
 thoughtlessly conceived the plan which 
 we have beheld him put into execution ; 
 and, although the exaction which he 
 practised was culpable in itself, yet as 
 he was only to take in very wicked peo- 
 ple, who were enjoying with impunity 
 the fruits of a horrible crime, the immo- 
 rality of the act he was committing was 
 not sufficiently apparent to him. 
 
 Willingly regarding himself as a kind 
 of instrument in the hands of Provi- 
 dence, for procuring the indirect punish- 
 ment of crime, he had not scrupulously 
 reflected, that to steal a name, even 
 when it belong to nobody, and to rob 
 thieves and assassins, was conduct to be 
 condemned, and of which the law might 
 take cognizance. 
 
 But death, which he had seen so near 
 to him, having suddenly enlightened 
 his conscience, he regretted that he had 
 so imprudently embarked in the under- 
 taking ; and, notwithstanding the friend- 
 ly disposition and proposals of Legros, 
 he only thought of extricating himself, 
 with as little damage as possible, from 
 this dangerous aifair. 
 
 In this perplexed state of mind, his 
 thoughts naturally turned towards Ma- 
 demoiselle Lebeau, with whom he had 
 already made an approach towards con- 
 fidence, relative to the affair which oc- 
 cupied his attention. He knew her to 
 be a woman of excellent understanding, 
 and capable of giving good advice, and 
 doubted not that he should derive ad- 
 vantage by confiding in her. He had 
 also to beg the poor girl's pardon, for 
 the annoying occurrence of which he 
 had been the involuntary cause. All 
 these reasons determined Chabouillant, 
 as soon as he was restored to liberty, to 
 repair to the Tricoloured Prism, where 
 he expected to find still prevailing the 
 agitation and terror always occasioned 
 by a visit from the officers of justice. 
 
 On Mademoiselle Lebeau' s returning 
 rather late from Charenton, where we 
 know she had to go, she had found her 
 shopwomen in the greatest consterna- 
 tion, her locks forced, her cupboards in- 
 disorder; and to complete the matter, 
 she was given to understand that the 
 object of this visit of justice being to 
 seize upon some treasonable papers, 
 which had been found in her possession, 
 she might expect to be arrested from 
 one moment to another. 
 
 In consequence of this menace, those 
 around her wished to persuade her to 
 quit her house, and to seek an asylum 
 with one of her friends. But strong in 
 
 the support of a good conscience, and 
 thinking that this step would be the 
 first proof of her guilt, the courageous 
 young girl peremptorily refused to do 
 so, and she was just occupied in oppo- 
 sing the urgent entreaties poured forth 
 from all sides, that she would consent 
 to a temporary but needful absence, 
 when Chabouillant arrived at the house. 
 
 "Without showing any anger, and 
 rather with the air of a person who was 
 hurt at having been made a dupe, than 
 frightened at the danger with which 
 she thought herself menaced, Mademoi- 
 selle Lebeau reproached the new comer, 
 with the culpable subterfuge he had 
 made use of with regard to her. 
 
 " In a case of pressing danger," said 
 she, " I never refuse my assistance to 
 whoever asks it ; but I consider it per- 
 fidious to obtain a service under false 
 pretences, and to leave those who render 
 it in ignorance of the possible conse- 
 quences of their kindness." 
 
 This grave accusation of abuse of 
 confidence just brought against him, 
 made Chabouillant still more anxious 
 to tell the whole truth ; and, having 
 asked Mademoiselle Lebeau to grant 
 him a private interview, he began by 
 assuring her that the threatened danger 
 was imaginary, and then proceeded to 
 relate to her, word for word, the con- 
 versation at Offenburg, the dangerous 
 use which he had thought to make of 
 this discovery, and the terrible manner 
 in which, an hour before, this finely- 
 conceived enterprise had been on the 
 point of terminating \vith regard to 
 himself. 
 
 During this long recital, the young 
 shopkeeper, notwithstanding her saga- 
 city, at first seized but imperfectly all 
 the bearings of the case, the details 
 being so complicated, and the links by 
 which they were united, so difficult to 
 follow. 
 
 She was especially struck with the 
 part which related to Chevillard, and 
 this, from not being well acquainted 
 with it himself, was exactly what the 
 narrator explained most imperfectly. 
 At length, after several questions cal- 
 culated to elucidate this frightful mys- 
 tery, she succeeded in obtaining a clear 
 insight into the part which her former 
 book-keeper had played in this terrible 
 drama. 
 
 " Poor fellow," she exclaimed, " into 
 what a fearful abyss he threw himself !" 
 
 But as in no case it formed part of 
 the character of this charming girl, to 
 think long of herself and her own inte-
 
 126 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 rest, she soon gave her attention to the 
 singular and dangerous situation in 
 which the narrator of this history had 
 placed himself, and applying her up- 
 right mind and strict probity to the 
 right appreciation of this difficult sub- 
 ject. 
 
 " Monsieur Chabouillant," she said, 
 " your conduct has been very impru- 
 dent ; I knew you to be dissipated, and 
 a little too free on the chapter of mora- 
 lity ; but from this point, to so serious a 
 forgetfulness of what an honest man 
 owes to himself, there was a wide 
 space !" 
 
 " Say no more, I beg of you, made- 
 moiselle," replied Chabouillant ; " do 
 not cover me with confusion. I know, 
 without your telling me, how much I 
 have lowered myself in your esteem ; 
 but what must I do to repair my fault ? 
 Whatever you command, I will do 
 immediately, so much confidence have 
 I in your good judgment." 
 
 " In my opinion, there is but one 
 way for you to act. Providence has 
 placed you on the track of horrible 
 crimes ; you ought to reveal all you 
 know to justice." 
 
 " My conscience has already, a short 
 time ago, suggested to me to take this 
 course ; but only think of the appear- 
 ance of guilt which these wretches have 
 contrived to hatch up ; those dangerous 
 letters which remain in their hands !" 
 
 " It is just this which induces me to 
 advise you as I have done. If, on your 
 return from Germany, you had told me 
 the secret which you had discovered, I 
 should have felt embarrassed to give 
 you my opinion, because it is always 
 painful to become an accuser, even in 
 the case of the greatest criminals." 
 
 " Certainly," said Chabouillant, rea- 
 dily acquiescing in this opinion, " thus 
 to send a whole party to the scaffold !" 
 
 " But in the present state of the 
 case," replied Mademoiselle Lebeau, 
 " you have no longer any choice. By 
 the culpable step you have taken, in 
 wishing to profit by the crime, you have 
 become morally a kind of accomplice. 
 By means of the letters which you have 
 written, your fate is henceforward bound 
 up with that of these wretches, and 
 every moment of delay will strengthen 
 the tie; an immediate confession, and 
 prompt repentance, can alone free you 
 from this responsibility, of which the 
 extent is incalculable." 
 
 " But leaving the accusation of mur- 
 der out of the question, the law has 
 perhaps a punishment for those who 
 
 assume false names. It will be allotted 
 to me, and I shall be dishonoured." 
 
 " I know not how that may be," re- 
 joined the young shopkeeper, " but 
 hitherto you have not profited in any 
 way by your imprudent proceeding." 
 
 " No, indeed," replied the commer- 
 cial traveller ; "all the benefit I de- 
 rived, was, that I had nearly lost my life 
 by it." 
 
 " Moreover," continued Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, " you will, by your revelations, 
 render a great service to society ; in 
 short, by going to denounce yourself, 
 you will show, that, having acted from 
 levity and thoughtlessness, you were de- 
 sirous to make reparation, as soon as 
 you became conscious of the immorality 
 
 of your conduct and I think, that 
 
 there are many reasons for indulgence." 
 
 " Yes," said Chabouillant, after hav- 
 ing reflected for a moment, " it is per- 
 haps the most simple and safe plan to 
 reveal all to justice ; but only think, 
 I, a single witness, against three guilty 
 persons, who will stoutly deny every- 
 thing ! I feel convinced, that you are 
 giving me good advice ; but I am play- 
 ing a very hazardous game, mademoi- 
 selle." 
 
 " You will say, that I see things in 
 a singular point of view ; but, in your 
 place, I would rather rejoice in any 
 danger that might accompany my de- 
 termination, for the more hazard in- 
 curred to yourself by your avowal, 
 the greater repentance and courage it 
 will indicate, and the better it will 
 tend to procure for you the sympathy 
 and esteem of all honest men. With 
 regard to another witness, whose ab- 
 sence you regret, who knows but that 
 Divine Providence may not reserve 
 him for you !" 
 
 " How so ? what do you mean r" 
 
 " Yes ; to-morrow, perhaps, Chevil- 
 lard will be restored to reason, and if 
 he were but to affirm the infamy of 
 which he has been made the victim, 
 do you not think, that this alone would 
 be strong presumptive evidence against 
 the guilty parties ?" 
 
 " But what makes you hope for the 
 astonishing miracle of his recovery ?" 
 
 " The medical men, whom I have seen 
 to-day at Charenton, and who for some 
 days past have been much more satis- 
 fied with his state. A little while ago, 
 after having had iced water poured upon 
 his head, a most favourable symptom 
 has declared itself; he has fallen into a 
 deep sleep, which had not been the case 
 for a long time ; and, according to the
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 127 
 
 opinion of the doctors, it is probable, 
 that, when he awakes, he will have re- 
 covered the entire use of his faculties." 
 
 " Oh ! should this prove so, then the 
 hand of God is in everything that hap- 
 pens," eagerly exclaimed Chabouillant, 
 who, in his character of commercial 
 traveller, was, generally speaking, a fol- 
 lower of Voltaire, and a free-thinker. 
 
 "He is here," added Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, lowering her voice, and with 
 the air of confiding a great secret. 
 
 " What ! my poor friend is here, in 
 this house?" 
 
 " Yes ; the doctors think, that the 
 sight of the scenes which might remind 
 him of better times, may be favourable 
 in the crisis which we expect. So I 
 brought him back with me, and have 
 caused him to be carried into his former 
 chamber, which he used to like so much ; 
 and what gives us great hope is, that all 
 this movement has not awakened him. 
 It seems as if Nature, feeling the need 
 that she will have to-morrow of all her 
 strength, is collecting her power in this 
 profound slumber." 
 
 " Mademoiselle !" exclaimed Cha- 
 bouillant, with enthusiasm, "Chevillard 
 will be restored to us ; it is more than a 
 presentiment, I am now sure of it." 
 
 " May God grant it !" rejoined the 
 amiable girl, joining her hands, and 
 raising her tearful eyes towards heaven. 
 
 " My resolution is taken," continued 
 the commercial traveller ; " not to- 
 morrow, but this evening, this very 
 instant, I will go and declare all to the 
 magistrate." 
 
 " Go, Monsieur Chabouillant," said 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau; "and depend 
 upon me to assist you to my utmost 
 ability, in this courageous struggle." 
 
 Then, as if the criminal had by this 
 resolution begun to clear himself in her 
 eyes, she held out her hand to him, 
 which he, on his side, always gallant 
 and alert, endeavoured (although this 
 favour was not granted him) to carry 
 respectfully to his lips. They then 
 separated, Chabouillant to repair to the 
 government-commissioner, attached to 
 the criminal court,* and Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, to go up-stairs to inquire after 
 the sick man, at whose bedside a zealous 
 and skilful nurse was to keep watch all 
 night. 
 
 * This, in 1804, was the title of the procureur- 
 gfnfral attached to the criminal court. There 
 was also a similar officer attached to the civil 
 court of appeal (now cour rot/ale). The civil and 
 criminal jurisdictions wwe then entirely distinct 
 from each other. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ALTHOUGH it was rather an unreason- 
 able hour to present himself at the ma- 
 gistrate's, our penitent did not wish his 
 resolutions to cool, and, contrary to his 
 expectation, he was readily admitted ; 
 for the state of great excitement into 
 which Paris had been thrown in the 
 morning, by Moreau's arrest, was a mo- 
 tive for the functionaries appointed to 
 maintain public order and tranquillity, 
 to display great vigilance. Thus Cha- 
 bouillant had scarcely mentioned, that 
 he had some important communications 
 to make, than he was immediately 
 ushered in, and very courteously begged 
 to explain himself. 
 
 Whilst walking from the Rue des 
 Deux-Portes Saint-Sauveur to the an- 
 cient hotel Lamoignon,* inhabited by 
 the government-commissioner, Chabouil- 
 lant prepared his address, and it certainly 
 was not an inexpert manner of begin- 
 ning his recital, to represent himself as 
 escaping that very moment from an am- 
 buscade, where, under the menace of 
 death, he had written some letters, 
 against any bad consequences arising 
 from which, he had come to claim the 
 protection of justice. So that, if the 
 guilty parties should ever make use of 
 these dangerous writings, the effect of 
 them would have been already weakened 
 beforehand, and the mark aimed at by 
 bringing them forward would be almost 
 entirely missed. 
 
 The narrator showed further skill, in 
 being completely candid with regard to 
 whatever might bear against himself. 
 Relating with naivete his strange mania 
 for making himself out a branch of some 
 good family, he explained how he had 
 been led by this fixed idea, to assume a 
 name which had terminated with the 
 unfortunate marquis who had been 
 assassinated, and how, from one step to 
 another, he had come to treat with the 
 great criminal Morizot. It must be ac- 
 knowledged, that Legros and the Saint- 
 Martin, who, by saving Chabouillant' 6 
 life, had perhaps thought to open for 
 themselves a side-door for escape, found 
 in him a grateful adversary ; for he took 
 care to point out the shade of their par- 
 ticular guilt, which was that of being 
 only passive accomplices. In short, hi 
 recital was clear, concise, and free from 
 exaggeration, so that it at once gave the 
 impression, that it contained true and 
 conclusive information ; and if he was 
 not successful in representing himself as 
 * Rue PavSe, au Marais.
 
 128 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 a person entirely worthy of esteem, he 
 at least passed for one of those every- 
 day characters, who, having but a super- 
 ficial idea of right and wrong, yet 
 know where to stop in the career of evil, 
 and, when necessary, how to retrace 
 their steps. 
 
 The history of the blind men had 
 given to the murder in which they were 
 mixed up, an uncommon degree of no- 
 toriety, and public justice, which has 
 also its self-love to satisfy in seeking 
 out and prosecuting crime, had seen 
 with much dissatisfaction its inability 
 to discover the authors of an assassi- 
 nation which had been so much talked 
 about. For some time past, having, as 
 we have said, its attention fully en- 
 gaged by its political surveillance, it 
 had almost entirely given up all re- 
 searches with regard to this mysterious 
 outrage ; but it may well be imagined, 
 it saw with pleasure, the clue found 
 which was to lead it on the track of 
 the criminals. 
 
 Taking up the cause with ardour, 
 the magistrate sent to awake the head 
 of that department, at the prefecture 
 of police, which had the care of cer- 
 tain written information concerning a 
 great number of individuals, who, with- 
 out having had precisely any disputes 
 with justice, have nevertheless placed 
 themselves in such a position, that it 
 has its eye upon them. When the 
 registers were brought, Legros figured 
 in them as a man frequenting danger- 
 ous haunts, as a supporter of hells, and 
 as being strongly suspected of making 
 usurious loans, and other vicious prac- 
 tices. His wife was also mentioned, 
 as habitually pandering to the bad pas- 
 sions of the commissary Morizot. The 
 article regarding the latter, consisted of 
 the deposition made by the doctor who 
 assisted at Esther's death ; in this de- 
 position were related the circumstances 
 of the suicide, and the motives which 
 were supposed to have caused it. 
 
 These accounts containing nothing in 
 favour of the accused, and answering 
 besides exactly to the information given 
 by Chabouillant, decided tha magis- 
 trates to grant an order of arrest against 
 Mori/ot and the two Legros', and they 
 commanded a commissary of police to 
 see it put into execution on the follow- 
 ing morning at daybreak. With regard 
 to Chabouillant, there was no ground 
 for detaining him, for the attempt at 
 extortion (of which he had been guilty) 
 not having been carried into effect, and 
 therefore detrimental to no one, it was 
 
 doubtful, in a legal point of view, 
 whether it constituted a crime. Besides, 
 the magistrates, who wished to keep 
 fair with this valuable witness, would 
 have been very careful to alienate or 
 intimidate him by any severe mea- 
 sure. They contented themselves there- 
 fore with making him write down and 
 sign his denunciation, and, after they 
 had taken his address, and warned him 
 to hold himself in readiness for any 
 summons, he was allowed to return 
 home, where, without his having the 
 least idea of it, a discreet, but at the 
 same time a very active and strict 
 watch, was kept over all his movements. 
 
 The night had passed, and Chevillard 
 had never in his life had a more calm 
 and refreshing sleep. 
 
 Very early in the morning, and before 
 she had gone up-stairs to inquire after 
 him, Mademoiselle Lebeau had an agree- 
 able surprise. The doctor, who had 
 been the most assiduous in his care of 
 the patient during his illness, did not 
 live at Charenton, but had his residence 
 in Paris. He was of a compassionate 
 disposition, and had taken much interest 
 in the poor madman ; besides, in his 
 character of a man of science, he had 
 found some curious observations to make, 
 in a case which presented rather uncom- 
 mon symptoms. 
 
 As soon therefore as it was light, he 
 arrived at his patient's, in order to be 
 present at the return of his sense?, and 
 with the intention of indicating the first 
 assistance to be rendered, and the best 
 steps to be taken, in order to bring about 
 a happy termination to the favourable 
 crisis which he anticipated. 
 
 Accompanied by Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau, who affectionately thanked him 
 for his benevolent attention, he ascended 
 to Chevillard' s chamber, where he learnt 
 from the woman who had watched all 
 night, that the sleep continued to be 
 calm, but light. He then caused the 
 window-curtains to be gently undrawn, 
 so that a beautiful ray of the morning 
 sun penetrated into the apartment, and 
 shed there a bright and joyous lustre. 
 Then placing himself with Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau and the nurse, in such a position 
 that they could observe the countenance 
 of the patient, without being perceived 
 by him, he recommended perfect silence, 
 and awaited with curiosity what would 
 take place. 
 
 After the lapse of several minutes, a 
 deep sigh heaved the breast of Chevil- 
 lard, and sitting up in bed, he stared 
 around him in great astonishment.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 129 
 
 He appeared to recognise, one after 
 the other, the objects by which he was 
 surrounded, and which had been care- 
 fully disposed in the same order as they 
 had formerly been. 
 
 " Ah ! good heavens]" he exclaimed 
 at last ; "it was then a dream. But 
 how long and painful a one !" 
 
 Having been placed on his bed in his 
 clothes : " Well ! what could I have 
 been about last evening " he aked 
 himself, " thus to fall asleep, without 
 taking time to undress myself?" At 
 the same time, slowly raising himself, 
 like a man who is collecting his ideas, 
 
 and who is doubtful of himself, he ap- 
 peared to have the intention of getting 
 up, and walking about the apartment. 
 
 " All goes on well," said the doctor ; 
 " but he must not see us yet." 
 
 Having taken care to keep the door 
 partly open, he went out with Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau and the nurse, with- 
 out making any noise ; and remaining 
 outside, listening to what was going on, 
 ho heard Chevillard occupied with ar- 
 ranging his ideas, and saying to himself: 
 " Yes, I dined with Chabouillunt ; he 
 made me drink a good deal : yes, it must 
 be so ; I must have returned home rather 
 
 17
 
 130 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 gone, and must have thrown myself on 
 my bed ; but what happiness, that all I 
 have seen in this dreadful nightmare 
 was only a dream ! A dream how- 
 ever but no, it must have been real 
 Mon Dieu ! I have suffered so much 
 Oh ! yes ! all these horrible things have 
 happened to me. And," added he, 
 looking at himself in the glass, " could 
 I have become thus thin in one 
 night?" 
 
 At this moment, the doctor, not 
 wishing that he should resume the 
 chain of his cruel recollections, before 
 his head was sufficiently strengthened 
 to support the painful blow, ordered 
 the nurse to speak from outside the 
 door. 
 
 " Well ! Monsieur Chevillard," said 
 she, repeating the words which the 
 doctor whispered to her in a low voice, 
 " do you not mean to get up to-day r 
 It is past nine o'clock, and Mademoi- 
 selle is waiting for an invoice, which is 
 wanted in a hurry, and which you for- 
 got to make out last evening." 
 
 " Very well ! I am coming," replied 
 the book-keeper, resuming his soliloquy. 
 " Decidedly then," said he, " I must 
 have been dreaming ; but never before 
 has a dream left such an impression 
 upon me." 
 
 He then occupied himself with his 
 toilet, as he had always been accus- 
 tomed to do in getting up, and as, dur- 
 ing the first days of his illness, Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau had sent to the fur- 
 nished house in the Rue Copeau, for all 
 that he had left there, he found all the 
 articles for his use in their places, 
 which was an additional reason for 
 making him think that he had been 
 subjected to the powerful influence of a 
 frightful delusion. 
 
 When he had gone down stairs, this 
 illusion was continued by Mademoi- 
 selle Lebeau, who was in the room when 
 he entered, and who said to him : " It 
 seems, that you and Monsieur Cha- 
 bouillant have behaved in a fine man- 
 ner yesterday. How pale and ill you 
 look this morning ! Now, was I wrong 
 in telling you, that dining out did not 
 suit you ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think we have not conducted 
 ourselves very well," replied the book- 
 keeper ; " and another time, I will listen 
 to you." 
 
 Having said this, he repaired to his 
 desk, where everything was arranged 
 according to custom, and as if he had 
 quitted it only the previous evening. 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau followed him, re- 
 
 minding him of the invoice on account 
 of which she pretended that she had 
 sent for him, and the illusions of the 
 drama were for a moment transported 
 to a place where they are very seldom 
 met with. If Chevillard could perform 
 the calculations which were asked of 
 him, his reason had evidently returned ; 
 but the question was, would his head 
 be capable of the combination of ideas 
 necessary to solve an arithmetical 
 problem ? Therefore, although betray- 
 ing no outward emotion, it was with 
 terrible anxiety, that the young girl 
 watched the progress of this decisive 
 trial. 
 
 Chevillard acquitted himself honour- 
 ably, and without making one false 
 step ; he made the addition of several 
 columns of figures so successfully, that 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau, transported with 
 joy, quitted him to join the doctor, who 
 was waiting, concealed iu an adjoin- 
 ing room, and announced to him this 
 new symptom of a confirmed cure. 
 
 But, as BOOH as he was alone, the 
 memory of this poor young man, which 
 for a moment had been put on a wrong 
 scent, and was at fault, was again at 
 work. He laid down, his pen, shut his 
 eyes, pressed his hands against his fore- 
 head in short, appeared to make a 
 strong effort to recollect himself; then 
 he suddenly burst forth into words : 
 " Yes, yes," said he, starting up, and 
 thrusting his hat upon his head, " there, 
 
 I shall satisfy myself " then, with 
 
 a rapid step, he descended the staircase, 
 and immediately left the house. 
 
 Informed of this in time, the doctor, 
 after having reassured Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, set off in pursuit of the deserter, 
 walking behind him so as not to be ob- 
 served, but also taking care not to lose 
 sight of him. 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation, re- 
 specting the road he had to take, Che- 
 villard traversed all Paris, from the Rue 
 des Deux -Fortes Saint-Sauveur to the 
 Rue d'Aguesseau, Faubourg Saint- 
 Houore, where the mayoralty of the 
 first district was situated, and there, 
 repairing to the office containing all 
 civil records, he asked for and was 
 shown the certificate of marriage, prov- 
 ing that Esther de Brevannes had be- 
 come his wife. 
 
 After obtaining this singular confir- 
 mation, he did not seem so much agita- 
 ted as might be expected ; the conten- 
 tion of mind, and the bodily exertion 
 he underwent, in order to recall to his 
 memory past events, served to divert
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 131 
 
 his attention, and thus contributed to 
 disguise from him the bitter effect which 
 it must otherwise have produced. 
 
 Having appeared to deliberate with 
 himself for a short time, he left the 
 mayoralty, and rapidly pursued his 
 course to the northern cemetery, where 
 he proceeded straight to Esther's tomb, 
 which he contemplated some time with 
 a mournful look, but without shedding 
 tears, or manifesting any outward sign 
 of grief. The doctor, who continued to 
 follow him, became uneasy at his cold 
 demeanour ; and in order to give a 
 shock capable of reviving the unfortu- 
 nate man's sensibility, which seemed 
 still benumbed, he approached, and, 
 looking at the tombstone, said : " Yes, 
 Esther de Brevannes, a poor woman 
 who died very young." 
 
 Chevillard looked at him from head to 
 foot, then, shrugging his shoulders, ap- 
 peared to take no further notice of him. 
 
 " Did not the unfortunate woman die 
 from poison?" exclaimed the doctor, 
 raising his voice. "A victim to the 
 infamous passion of a man named Mo- 
 rizot !" 
 
 " Morizot !" exclaimed Chevillard, in 
 an accent impossible to describe ; " did 
 you say Morizot r" And, thus speak- 
 ing, he convulsively pressed the doctor's 
 arm ; then, trying to drag him away 
 with him : " Come," added he, " I know 
 the spot ; horrible things have taken 
 place there." 
 
 "Let us go!" said the doctor, in- 
 dulging his wish. 
 
 But Chevillard, pushing him back, 
 eagerly rushed upon a rising ground, 
 situated near the spot. There he 
 stopped, and looked towards heaven ; 
 then, raising his arms above his head, 
 and letting them fall again towards the 
 earth, with a gesture as if he were in- 
 voking a curse : " Morizot ! Morizot !" 
 he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder. 
 " Take care ; I recollect !" and this 
 time, taking a start too rapid for the 
 doctor to follow him, he soon disap- 
 peared from his sight. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A QUARTER of an hour later, he 
 arrived out of breath at the door of the 
 house in the Widows' \Valk, and knocked 
 repeatedly. 
 
 A neighbour, who was passing, offi- 
 ciously said to him : " You are losing 
 your time, my good sir ; nobody is 
 there ; that house has been uninhabited 
 for nearly two months." 
 
 " Except when murder is committed 
 there !" exclaimed Chevillard, with 
 irony. 
 
 " Ah ! I cannot tell you anything 
 about that," replied the woman, con- 
 tinuing her road. 
 
 At this moment, a singular procession 
 appeared at the further end of the 
 avenue, bordering on the Champs- 
 Elysees. Two hackney-coaches, escorted 
 by municipal guards on horseback, ad- 
 vanced, followed by a crowd of people, 
 and stopped before the door at which 
 Chevillard was in vain trying to gain 
 admittance. 
 
 At first, he looked tranquilly on, 
 whilst several persons dressed in black, 
 and carrying papers under their arms, 
 alighted from the first coach. But 
 when, from the second conveyance, he 
 beheld Morizot, Legros, and the Saint- 
 Martin issue, preceded by two indi- 
 viduals wearing tricoloured scarfs, he 
 rushed upon the commissary, who turned 
 pale at sight of him, and seizing him 
 by the throat : " It is he, the murderer !" 
 he exclaimed ; " the others are his ac- 
 complices ; arrest them !" 
 
 It was, as may be conjectured, a 
 judicial visit of inquiry, which was 
 going to take place. After having been 
 interrogated and confronted with Cha- 
 bouillant, whose sudden determination 
 had been to them a blow as unexpected 
 as it was terrible, the accused, in spite 
 of their utter denial of the charge, had 
 remained under the weight of the most 
 serious suspicion and impeachment. 
 The warrant of arrest issued against 
 them, had been immediately converted 
 into a detainder, and now the deputy of 
 the justice of the peace, and the foreman 
 of titie jury,* attended by the registrar, 
 had come to reconnoitre the premises, 
 pointed out as the scene of the crime, 
 and conducting with them the accused, 
 in whose presence, according to law, 
 the search was to take place. 
 
 The action and words of Chevillard 
 were of a nature to excite, in the 
 greatest degree, the attention of the 
 magistrates. They accordingly invited 
 him to explain himself with more calm- 
 ness. 
 
 "This man is mad," said Morizot, 
 who had recovered from the agitation 
 caused by the sudden appearance of his 
 mortal enemy. 
 
 And, in fact, the disordered dress and 
 
 * Jury of accusation, which took the place of 
 what we call the tribunal of accusatiwt. The 
 functions of foreman of the jury answered to 
 those of the present juge J > in*tnictuH>.
 
 132 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OR, 
 
 excited appearance of Chevillard gave 
 to this allegation an appearance of truth, 
 that insured its ready credence. 
 
 But just at this moment arrived the 
 doctor, who had followed in the track of 
 his patient. Knowing the place that 
 the house in the Widows' Walk must 
 hold in his memory, he had hoped to 
 find him at this s'pot. Piercing the 
 crowd, and seeing indeed the unfortu- 
 nate man, who was gesticulating and 
 speaking with great warmth, scarcely 
 restrained by the police-officers, who 
 were endeavouring to pacify him, he 
 approached the magistrates, made him- 
 self known to them, and conversed with 
 them for some time in private. 
 
 The magistrates, remembering the 
 madman who had been arrested on the 
 night of the murder, at a short distance 
 from ^he house in which it was now 
 supposed that the crime had been per- 
 petrated, and the doctor affirming that 
 this unfortunate man had recovered his 
 senses since the morning, and was now 
 only affected in all appearance by the 
 force of his recollections, they considered 
 it their duty to profit by the light which 
 he seemed able to throw upon their re- 
 searches, and, having entered the house 
 with the doctor and the accused, they 
 summoned this strange witness to appear 
 before them. 
 
 The following scene passed in the 
 saloon in which we have beheld so many 
 events take place. The magistrates hav- 
 ing seated themselves round the table 
 upon which Chabouillant had written. 
 the evening before, whilst the accused 
 were standing surrounded by the muni- 
 cipal guards and police-officers, Chevil- 
 lard was introduced, having at his side 
 the doctor, who, in case of need, was to 
 serve as a sort of check upon him ; the 
 foreman of the jury then asked him, if 
 he knew anything regarding the crime, 
 of which they were trying to find the 
 authors. 
 
 " Anything r" disdainfully replied the 
 book-keeper. " I know all." 
 
 He began by relating the arrival of 
 the man (it was thus he designated the 
 victim), and the cry that he had uttered 
 in the hall ; then he recounted, how 
 Morizot, with the aid of his accomplices, 
 had brought in the dead body ; he also 
 pointed out the arm-chair in 'which the 
 unfortunate man had been placed, whilst 
 he w&s being plundered ; detailed even 
 the circumstances attending the division 
 of the spoil, and all this with a clearness 
 and force of expression, which, with the 
 exception of a little excitement in his 
 
 manner of speaking, excluded all idea 
 of alienation of mind. 
 
 He was naturally asked to give an 
 account of the manner in which he had 
 been able to witness all that he had 
 related. 
 
 Running to the window, Chevillard 
 opened it, strode over the window-seat 
 beneath it, then crouching down in the 
 same manner he had done before : " I 
 was thus," he said : " there was a light 
 in the room, out of doors it was quite 
 dark, and I saw everything through the 
 curtains, which were a little open." 
 
 At this moment, Morizot, recalling 
 to mind the tardy precaution he had 
 taken with regard to the curtains, which 
 had so badly fulfilled their office, could 
 not help showing, at the recollection of 
 this fatal imprudence, a sign of anger, 
 which did not escape the searching 
 looks of the magistrates. 
 
 "But how," asked the foreman of 
 the jury, " were you able to penetrate 
 into the house? What brought you 
 there :" 
 
 Taking up his story at a more remote 
 period, Chevillard began the recital of 
 the infamous matrimonial fraud of 
 which he had been the victim ; he then 
 related the death of his wife, in conse- 
 quence of the persecution of Morizot, 
 and at this instant the cold insensibility, 
 which had excited the uneasiness of the 
 doctor, gave place in this pocft young*V- 
 man to a burst of the most lively feeling, 
 for his voice faltered, and his disjoiSed 
 words were accompanied by a flood of 
 tears. ^^j* 
 
 Touched by his griefjAlrmagistrates 
 begged him to rest^while, and they 
 remarked among {tRemselves, that the 
 account of the floctor, who had attended 
 at Esther's *Jath, perfectly coincided 
 with all the circumstances related by 
 the witness. 
 
 Soon after, Chevillard resumed his 
 deposition, and gave the explanation 
 required of him, stating the pious in- 
 terest which had led him to the house, 
 of which he had a key in his possession ; 
 and the probability of this account was 
 soon confirmed by a visit, which was 
 paid to Esther's chamber, Avhere in fact 
 were found many things that had be- 
 longed to her. 
 
 He was next interrogated on the sub- 
 ject of the blind men. 
 
 " I did not see those men," replied 
 Chevillard ; "I saw Morizot, who came 
 towards the window, as if he were 
 menacing me ; then I became frightened. 
 After having fled from the place, I
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CHIME. 
 
 133 
 
 remember nothing more until this morn- 
 ing, when I awoke in the chamber 
 which I occupied before my marriage 
 and at first, I thought I had been dream- 
 ing." 
 
 The foreman of the jury then addressed 
 the doctor in an impressive tone : ' ' We 
 adjure you," he said, " on your oath, 
 and on your reputation as a medical 
 man, to give us your opinion as to the 
 mental state of the witness, and to 
 state whether his words appear to you 
 to emanate from a man possessing a 
 healthy brain, and the entire use of his 
 faculties." 
 
 The doctor, having taken his oath, 
 explained in detail the progress of the 
 disease, the treatment of which had 
 been confided to his care, and he de- 
 clared, on his soul and conscience, that, 
 with the exception of a little nervous 
 excitement, occasioned by the renewal 
 of so many horrible recollections, the 
 object of this investigation appeared to 
 him to be restored to his normal state, 
 and to have recovered entirely the use 
 of his reason. 
 
 " You will be kind enough to continue 
 your care of him," said the magistrate, 
 " in order to give an account of his state 
 from day to day, until the moment 
 when he is likely to be called to renew 
 his deposition before the jury." 
 
 The doctor promised to give the most 
 attentive and strict consideration to the 
 case, and he was then allowed to re- 
 tire with Chevillard, as other judicial 
 formalities had to be gone through, 
 during which their presence was not 
 required. 
 
 The doctor, foreseeing that they 
 should be objects of indiscreet curiosity 
 to the crowd, which continued to ob- 
 struct the entrance to the house, begged 
 one of the police-officers to protect them 
 as they went out. The man willingly 
 complied with this request, and as he 
 knew that the magistrates would still 
 be detained there for several hours 
 longer, he placed at their disposal one 
 of the coaches standing at the door, 
 with the condition that it should be 
 sent back immediately after it had con- 
 veyed them to their destination. 
 
 Chevillard at first showed some re- 
 pugnance to enter the hackney-coach, 
 saying that he did not wish to return 
 to that horrid house, where they threw 
 iced water upon his head, for, even 
 after they are cured, mad people enter- 
 tain an invincible horror of the place 
 where they have undergone medical 
 treatment; but being informed, that 
 
 they were returning to Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau's, in order to relieve the anxiety 
 which she must have experienced since 
 his hasty departure in the morning, 
 Chevillard made no further opposition ; 
 and soon alter, the motion of the vehicle, 
 the long round which he had taken, 
 together with the reaction consequent 
 to the violent emotions he had just ex- 
 perienced, threw him into a state of 
 drowsiness, which the doctor regarded 
 as a blessing of nature, and which he 
 took care not to disturb. 
 
 He even wished that his sleep might 
 be prolonged ; but the moment that 
 the hackney-coach stopped, Chevillard 
 awoke, and his cure appeared to have 
 made a great progress in a short time, 
 for he presented himself before Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau with great serenity of 
 countenance and manner. 
 
 "Ah! mademoiselle," said he, in an 
 affecting tone, being now in full posses- 
 sion of his senses, " how can I ever ac- 
 knowledge all your kindness r" 
 
 " You must not thank me" replied 
 the amiable giil ; " it is to our good doc- 
 tor that you owe your cure." 
 
 " Ah ! without you, mademoiselle," 
 rejoined the doctor, " we should never 
 have obtained so speedy a result. Your 
 assiduous visits, and the happy in- 
 fluence which you succeeded in gaining 
 over the patient, were of the greatest 
 assistance to us in promoting his re- 
 covery." 
 
 " What, I am indebted to you for this 
 also !" said Chevillard, with" astonished 
 gratitude ; " I, who was speaking only 
 of your charitable assistance on another 
 occasion." 
 
 " Let us not think of the past,' ' an- 
 swered Mademoiselle Lebeau, inter- 
 rupting him ; " you are now restored to 
 health; the place which you occupied 
 here is still vacant ; suppose, as you 
 fancied for a moment this morning, that 
 you only left us yesterday." 
 
 As she finished these kind words, a 
 new personage, who always announced 
 himself in rather a hasty manner, 
 entered the apartment. As soon as the 
 commercial traveller, whom we have 
 already recognised, perceived Chevil- 
 lard, he ran up to him with open arms, 
 and affectionately embraced him. But 
 the convalescent, remembering the fatal 
 influence that Chabouillant had exer- 
 cised over his destiny, received .his ad- 
 vances with some coldness. 
 
 Chabouillant, who paid but little at- 
 tention to slight distinctions, did not 
 perceive the formality of his reception ;
 
 134 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OE, 
 
 besides he was fully occupied with one 
 subject. 
 
 " Well, mademoiselle !" said he, " I 
 have acted according to your advice. 
 Justice is informed of everything, and 
 the guilty parties are now in her hands ; 
 I absolutely pulverized them, when I 
 was confronted with them this morning, 
 and I can assure you, that Master Mori- 
 /ot was not sitting upon roses whilst 
 listening to me." 
 
 "Morizot!" exclaimed Chevillard, 
 whose eyes became animated at the 
 bare mention of this name. 
 
 " Even so, my dear fellow," rejoined 
 Chabouillant ; " the very man, of whom 
 you have had so much cause to com- 
 plain Morizot, the murderer." 
 
 " What! you know of the crime?" 
 said Chevillard. 
 
 " And from the first source too ; for 
 the accomplices, although contrary to 
 their intention, informed me of all the 
 particulars." 
 
 " I have been told of nothing, but I 
 have seen all, and I also have informed 
 justice of it." 
 
 But, whilst the commercial traveller 
 jumped for joy, and exclaimed : " Then 
 we are two witnesses ; victory ! all is 
 safe!" Mademoiselle Lebeau, not know- 
 ing, as yet, what had happened at the 
 house in the Widows' Walk, became very 
 uneasy at these words of Chevillard, and 
 she made a sign to the doctor, giving 
 him to understand that she feared a 
 relapse. 
 
 Upon this, the doctor approached the 
 young shopkeeper, and tuld her, in a 
 low voice, that, in fact, Chevillard ap- 
 peared to be fully acquainted with many 
 of the circumstances, and that he had 
 just given the magistrates most conclu- 
 sive and circumstantial information. 
 " However," he added, " it would be 
 advisable to break off this conversa- 
 tion, which is of a nature to excite dan- 
 gerous emotions in the patient." 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau now said : " You 
 have taken nothing to -day, Monsieur 
 Chevillard, you must stand in need of 
 some refreshment. We were waiting 
 breakfast for you, and, with the per- 
 mission of these gentlemen, we will sit 
 down to table." 
 
 " The lady is right," said the doctor 
 to Chevillard ; " fasting is not good for 
 you, and you must fare well, in order to 
 regain your strength." 
 
 The mistress of the house invited 
 Chabouillant and the doctor to keep 
 them company ; but Chabouillant was 
 not a man to fust until past twelve 
 
 o'clock in the day, and was therefore 
 unable to do honour to the invitation. 
 As for the doctor, he excused himself, 
 on account of his patients, whom he had 
 to visit, and whom the incidents of the 
 morning had caused him somewhat to 
 neglect. They both, therefore, took 
 leave. 
 
 Directly after, Mademoiselle Lebeau 
 and Chevillard repaired to the dining- 
 room, where the latter was received 
 with lively congratulations by the shop- 
 women, who had greatly regretted his 
 departure. 
 
 " Take your usual place, Monsieur 
 Chevillard," said Mademoiselle Lebeau, 
 with a gay air ; then addressing herself 
 to the other guests, she added: " Now, 
 ladies, we shall no longer be so much 
 embarrassed, since our carver-in-chief 
 has returned to us." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WE are not of the opinion of those 
 who regret the deplorable end of the 
 unhappy daughter of the Marquis de 
 Brevannes. 
 
 With a stigma on her birth, with a 
 stigma on her life, and, according to all 
 appearances, destined to have a stigma 
 cast upon her death, she, in the last 
 case, proved this fatal logic to be false, 
 by her devotedness and expiation ; and 
 thus gloriously raised from her disgrace, 
 she carried away with her the regret 
 of the small number of honest hearts by 
 whom she had been known. 
 
 But beyond the tomb, a real misfor- 
 tune awaited her ; she did not remain 
 long in the memory of him for whom 
 she had died. 
 
 It is, however, very easy to justify 
 this quick and involuntary forgetful- 
 ness. 
 
 In the first place, Chevillard is ab- 
 solved by the moral philosophers, those 
 merciless dissecters of our feelings and 
 instincts. They number forgetfulness 
 amongst the miseries and infirmities of 
 human nature, which is limited and 
 weak in its griefs, as well aa in its 
 
 joys- 
 According to Montaigne : " A little 
 thing turns us aside ; for few things hold 
 us fast." 
 
 After Montaigne, Labruyere says : 
 " For certain losses, the heart ought 
 to possess an inexhaustible source of 
 grief. But it is neither by virtue nor 
 strength, that we recover from a great 
 affliction ; we cry bitterly, and we are
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 135 
 
 sensibly affected ; but we are so weak 
 and so frivolous, that we console our- 
 selves." 
 
 Vauvenargues is more bitter and more 
 explicit. He says : " Constancy is the 
 chimera of Love. 
 
 " We do not regret the death of all 
 those whom we love. 
 
 " There is no loss which we feel so 
 acutely, and for so short a time, as that 
 of a beloved wife." 
 
 In short, the most illustrious writer 
 of our time* did not recoil from the 
 afflicting words which are put into the 
 mouth of Father Aubry, when the man 
 of God is trying to console Atala on his 
 death-bed : "If, some years after his 
 death, a man were to revisit this 
 world, I doubt whether he would be 
 received with joy, even by those who 
 have shed most tears to his memory ; 
 so quickly are other ties formed, so 
 easily are other habits acquired, so 
 natural to man is inconstancy, and of 
 so little worth is our life, even in the 
 heart of our friends !" 
 
 Behold, then, Chevillard absolved by 
 a kind of general law, which, according 
 to good authority, is said to exhaust 
 and dry up in the heart of the greater 
 part of mankind, the source of the most 
 pious grief; but we must also allow, 
 that the husband of Esther had some 
 peculiar reasons for feeling but for a 
 short time, as Vauvenargues says, the 
 loss of the beloved wife. 
 
 It was chiefly the surpassing beauty 
 of this young girl, which had given rise 
 to the sudden passion of the imprudent 
 young man ; and love, caused by the 
 senses, is more likely than any other to 
 fade quickly away, or (if we may be 
 allowed the expression) to become 
 volatilized, 
 
 During the first period of his grief, 
 the deceived husband had generously 
 pardoned the fraud, of which he had 
 been the victim ; but, a little later, his 
 self-love had made itself heard, and, 
 without holding the memory of Esther 
 in contempt, Chevillard could not help 
 perceiving that the illusion had faded, 
 and that, in losing its crown of purity, 
 the angelic face of this woman had 
 also been deprived, in his eyes, of part of 
 its charms. 
 
 Besides, we must not delude our- 
 selves ; physical causes have a strange 
 influence over our feelings and disposi- 
 tion. The least unforeseen event, a for- 
 tunate or an unfortunate occurrence, a 
 change of place, and especially an ill- 
 * Chateaubriand. 
 
 ness, may deeply affect our moral being. 
 Now, after the terrible shock which the 
 reason of the poor madman had under- 
 gone, is it difficult to conceive, that a 
 great revolution must have taken place 
 in his heart and in his ideas ? 
 
 With regard to his grand dreams of 
 ambition and fortune, he had for ever 
 dismissed them. And a great change 
 had also taken place in his manner of 
 regarding the character and person of 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau. 
 
 Loaded with benefits, received like 
 the prodigal son, continually experien- 
 cing the most considerate and attentive 
 care, an exalted feeling of gratitude, 
 which every day seemed to increase and 
 develop itself, had succeeded in his 
 heart to that dull malevolence, with 
 which he had been formerly animated 
 against his young patroness. Aware at 
 length of the moral beauty which dis- 
 played itself throughout the conduct of 
 this charming girl, he finished also by 
 perceiving, that she was void neither of 
 grace nor external attractions ; and to 
 see sometimes his look fixed on her with 
 interest, and, taking pleasure in follow- 
 ing her slightest movements, one might 
 almost fancy (to make use of his own 
 words on a former occasion), that he 
 was now not quite so exclusively^/br the 
 fair girls. 
 
 In this state of mind, he never let 
 drop a word, which, in the remotest 
 degree, had any reference to the un- 
 fortunate Esther ; and, as may well be 
 imagined, nobody, according to the ex- 
 press request of Mademoiselle Lebeau, 
 ever thought of reminding him of this 
 mournful subject. 
 
 It happened, however, once, that this 
 sorrowful remembrance was awakened, 
 and the conversation, which then ensued 
 between Chevillard and the young shop- 
 keeper, will show better than anything 
 else, the great change that had taken 
 place in the former. 
 
 The day on which the poor madman 
 was arrested, it may be recollected, 
 that, besides the letter which was found 
 upon him addressed to Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, he had in his possession, that 
 odious sum of five thousand francs, 
 which Morizot had sent as the price of 
 the seduction of Esther, and which Che- 
 villard intended to return to him. This 
 money had been deposited in the hands 
 of the steward of Charenton, in order to 
 be restored to the patient after he had 
 recovered his senses, or paid over to his 
 family, if his madness became incurable, 
 or was greatly prolonged.
 
 136 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 The cure being no longer doubtful, 
 the doctor, who, according to the pro- 
 mise he had made to the magistrate, 
 visited Chevillard almost every day, 
 gave him one morning, in the presence 
 of Mademoiselle Lebeau, the bank-notes 
 which he had undertaken to deliver to 
 him. 
 
 Chevillard coloured up, but took them 
 without saying anything ; and as soon 
 as he was alone with his patroness, he 
 hastened to acquaint her with the im- 
 pure origin of this money, and with the 
 scruple which had prevented him from 
 employing it to liquidate the debt, 
 which his imprisonment at Sainte- 
 Pelagie had been the cause of his con- 
 tracting with her. 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau greatly com- 
 mended his manner of acting, and she 
 undertook to profit by the first oppor- 
 tunity, to deliver the five thousand 
 francs into the hands of the magistrate, 
 who, according to his judgment, would 
 either restore the sum to Morizot, or 
 bring it forward as additional proof 
 against him. in the criminal proceedings 
 which were now in preparation. 
 
 Matters being thus settled, Chevillard 
 continued thoughtful for a short time, 
 and then said to the young shopkeeper: 
 " Nevertheless, mademoiselle, I do not 
 know but we are yielding to an idea of 
 exaggerated delicacy ; for, after all, this 
 money is really mine ; I have paid dear 
 enough for it, and I so much desire to 
 discharge my debt to you !" 
 
 " Why do you so much desire it ? 
 Do I appear to you to be a very impa- 
 tient creditor r" 
 
 " Undoubtedly not ; but in less than 
 a year I have caused you the sacrifice of 
 eight thousand francs, and, notwith- 
 standing the prosperity of your estab- 
 lishment, it is a large sum." 
 
 " Monsieur Chevillard," said Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau, " I am sorry to see 
 you make a noble and honourable feel- 
 ing give place to an interested one of 
 self-love or of money. Your first im- 
 pulse was good and generous ; believe 
 me, do not alter it ; I am the more ur- 
 gent in requesting this, as I feel quite 
 happy to take part in this act." 
 
 "Ah! mademoiselle," said Chevil- 
 lard, much affected, and in a tone which 
 showed how truly he rendered justice 
 to his patroness, " I know you are capa- 
 ble of everything That is noble, but this 
 is just the reason why I should not 
 abuse your kindness." 
 
 " Speaking of noble acts," said Ma- 
 demoiselle Lebeau, " there will never 
 
 be so great and fine a one, as the vir- 
 tuous suicide, which placed this money 
 in your hands ; and when I reflect," she 
 sorrowfully added, " that, through a 
 bad impulse, to which I at first yielded, 
 I perhaps contributed to render it 
 necessary !" 
 
 " It was necessary in any case," 
 coldly replied the book-keeper. " It 
 was undoubtedly a noble act of self-de- 
 votion ; but it was also an expiation." 
 
 " You are severe, Monsieur Chevil- 
 lard, you rmist not recall to mind the 
 fault ; you must only remember the re- 
 pentance ; almost every woman, under 
 the same circumstances, would have 
 fallen like this poor girl, but how few 
 would have raised themselves as she 
 did !" 
 
 At this moment the conversation was 
 interrupted by the entrance of a cus- 
 tomer, and Chevillard, as he returned to 
 his books, said to himself, with a feeling 
 of disappointment : " Perhaps it will 
 again be asserted, that Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau is in love with me ! I do not 
 breathe a syllable to her concerning her 
 rival ; but it is she who speaks of her to 
 me, and in her praise too !" 
 
 Through pique, and in order to re- 
 venge himself for the disdain of which 
 he believed himself the object, he 
 thought of Esther rather more than 
 usual during the rest of the day ; and 
 recollecting, that, since he had been re- 
 stored to liberty, he had but once, and 
 then in haste, visited the spot where the 
 miserable creature was buried, he re- 
 paired to the cemetry a little before 
 dusk, and there he perceived something, 
 which, in the agitation of his last visit, 
 he had not observed. Although it was 
 winter, flowers, newly gathered, and 
 garlands, showed that the tomb, which 
 he had neglected, had been recently 
 visited. He had no difficulty in guess- 
 ing whose was the pious and charitable 
 hand which had been occupied in re- 
 pairing his faulty negligence. 
 
 But Chevillard, instead of being grate- 
 ful for this attention, was almost angry 
 about it. " Why does she concern her- 
 self about it ?" said he, with foolish 
 anger ; "she wishes to give me a lesson." 
 And, under this false impression, excited 
 by his indignation, he for several days 
 gave way to the sour humours for which 
 we have seen Mademoiselle Lebcau for- 
 merly reproach him. 
 
 As his ill-tcmppr, however, now pro- 
 ceeded from a totally different cause, it 
 did not hold out against the mild 
 patience with which it Avas met by her
 
 THE MYSTEKY OF CRIME. 
 
 13 
 
 who was the object of it; and a con- 
 tinued exchange of mutual considera- 
 tion and attentions, did not fail speedily 
 to establish the most perfect harmony 
 between the clerk and his patroness. 
 
 However, this peaceful state of things 
 was still very far off from a more tender 
 connexion, if such were ever to take 
 place. 
 
 Ghevillard would not acknowledge to 
 himself, that he was in love ; and truly 
 he did not think that he was, and only 
 fancied himself grateful. On the other 
 hand, Mademoiselle Lebeau looked upon 
 the good she had done as a thing of 
 
 18 
 
 course, and she had never calculated 
 that her generous conduct could have 
 any influence in triumphing over the 
 coldness which the object of her secret 
 predilection had always evinced towards 
 her. Besides, provided that Chevillard 
 was there, that she saw him every day, 
 that he tranquilly played his part in her 
 active and busy existence, that he was 
 not ill-tempered, that he did not talk 
 of leaving her, or of dining out with 
 Chabouillant, she asked for nothing 
 more, and pursued her even course of 
 life, without anticipating the future, in 
 which she neither saw nor sought for
 
 138 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OB, 
 
 the anticipation of anything fixed or 
 certain. 
 
 Nevertheless, Chevillard would have 
 done well to be on his guard ; gratitude 
 towards a young and amiable girl, full 
 of intelligence and good feeling, soon 
 turns into love : and, when about this 
 time, his friend the commercial clerk 
 and Chabouillant urged him to make 
 himself lord and master of the Tri- 
 coloured Prism, if his real opinion were, 
 as he stated it to be, that there Was ho 
 foundation for their view of the case, 
 that Mademoiselle Lebeau had neyer 
 even thought of him, and that he was 
 in every respect unworthy of her it 
 was very foolish of him not to stop, 
 when about to be carried forward by a 
 new passion, after having gained the 
 victory over his old one. 
 
 But another subject of interest must 
 now occupy our attention : what was 
 going to be done with the great 
 criminals who were already in the hands 
 of justice ! 
 
 The case had been very actively fol- 
 lowed up ; so that, in the newspapers of 
 the 7th of March, or the 28th vent use* 
 (according to the style of that period), 
 appeared the following paragraph : " A 
 verdict of the jury of accusation has 
 just sent up before the criminal tribunal 
 now sitting at Paris, the two men calling 
 themselves Morizot and Legros, and the 
 woman Saint-Martin ; the said parties 
 being accused of committing murder on 
 the person of the late Marquis de Bre- 
 vannes. The trial of this strange affair, 
 which, on two former occasions, has 
 already so strongly excited the public 
 attention, will commence on Monday 
 the 10th instant. The small space 
 which is left us in our columns of to- 
 day, prevents us from publishing at 
 length the act of accusation, but we in- 
 tend giving some important extracts 
 from it to-morrow." 
 
 It is needless to say, that this intelli- 
 gence created an immense sensation, 
 and that Paris was in a state of excite- 
 ment. 
 
 On the day following that on which 
 the first announcement appeared in the 
 public papers, a shower of applications, 
 couched in the most pressing terms, 
 assailed the judge who was to preside 
 at the trial ; and all the choice spirits 
 and elegant women of the time applied 
 
 * The republican epithets still continued, al- 
 though the saints had resumed their places in 
 the calendar, and had driven out the vegetables 
 and instruments of husbandry, which had given 
 their names to the days of the ex-decode. 
 
 to him for tickets of admission to the 
 reserved seats. 
 
 Notwithstanding their republican aus- 
 terity, the magistrates of that period 
 were neither less gallant nor less open 
 to amiable solicitations, than are the 
 magistrates of our day. The president, 
 therefore, did his best to comply with 
 the pressing applications which were 
 made to him ; but, in spite of his wil- 
 lingness to satisfy all demands, and after 
 he had distributed a much greater 
 amount of tickets than the hall could 
 contain, he made an infinite number of 
 discontented persons, and drew upon 
 himself much fierce enmity, which con- 
 tinued to Jnirsue and harass him during 
 his future career. 
 
 Not that the affair of Morizot and his 
 associates fully realised, with regard to 
 certain exciting details, all that some 
 imaginations might have conjured up. 
 For instance, the head of the marquis 
 was not preserved in spirits of wine, 
 and brought into court in a glass globe ; 
 neither were his intestines chemically 
 analysed ; nor were any of those plea- 
 sant interludes, half medical and half 
 legal, introduced, which sometimes give 
 to the criminal courts so much piquant 
 interest. 
 
 But it is impossible to have every- 
 thing ; and, with the exception of the 
 anatomical attraction, this case still 
 promised some exciting scenes. 
 
 The special objects of interest were 
 the poor blind men, by whose assist- 
 ance the singular experiment had been 
 hazarded, which we recounted in our 
 prologue ; and, although in fact they 
 were kept from figuring in the trial, not 
 having been able to be found, it was 
 precisely from their presence^ that those 
 persons, who were the most outrage- 
 ously curious, expected the most over- 
 whelming excitement. 
 
 On the evening which preceded the 
 opening of the trial, some tickets, which 
 had either fallen into avaricious hands, 
 or had been appropriated by some of 
 the servants of the court, were sold in 
 the neighbourhood of the Palais-de- 
 Justice ; and so great was the competi- 
 tion, that three or four louis were ob- 
 tained for some of them. 
 
 A last example will depict the in- 
 credible effrontery, and the mad ex- 
 tremes, in which some people indulge, 
 in order to gratify their inc^nations. A 
 woman, whom we could name, took 
 upon herself to write to Madame Mori- 
 zot, who, she thought, might have at 
 her disposal some of these so much
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 139 
 
 coveted tickets; and she mentioned 
 some former connexion, that she had 
 with this afflicted lady, in order to ob- 
 tain from her the favour of being ad- 
 mitted to witness the terrible trial of 
 her husband. 
 
 In the next chapter, and at less cost, 
 our readers will accompany us into the 
 criminal court, where, by a fortunate 
 combination of events, they will behold 
 reunited in the same assembly, and 
 divided into two equal groups, almost 
 all the important actors in the drama 
 which we have related to them. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IT would be superfluous to relate 
 how, at an early hour in the morning, 
 an impatient concourse of people had 
 assembled in the vicinity of the court 
 of justice, and how they tumultuously 
 rushed forward as soon as the doors 
 began to revolve on their hinges. It 
 would be equally superfluous to men- 
 tion the crowd of elegantly dressed 
 ladies, which the trial of capital crimes 
 never fails to assemble. We must sup- 
 pose, however, that the gathering of 
 the fair sex on this occasion, presented 
 even more than its usual share of ele- 
 gance and charms, for a newspaper 
 writer of that period, who was rather 
 of the anacreontic school, did not hesi- 
 tate to compare this brilliant assembly 
 " to a delicious basket of flowers, which 
 had been transported by mistake into 
 the sanctuary of justice. 
 
 Evident marks of republican austerity 
 were still manifest in the court of jus- 
 tice, from whence was excluded the 
 figure of the Saviour, which, in all our 
 judicial assemblies of the present day, 
 is placed over the president's seat, in 
 order to impress the sanctity of an oath 
 upon all those who are called as wit- 
 nesses. 
 
 About a quarter of an hour before the 
 entry of the judges, an eager excite- 
 ment, which prevailed in the assembly, 
 announced the presence of the accused. 
 
 Morizot had dressed himself with the 
 greatest care, and notwithstanding a 
 livid paleness, which betrayed his in- 
 ward agitation, he affected a sort of 
 careless ease in his manner. Gazing 
 round with audacity upon the assembled 
 crowd, he sought to distinguish those 
 persons with whom he was acquainted, 
 in order to inflict upon them the mali- 
 cious favour of a bow. 
 
 Madame de Saint -Martin, who was 
 attired with much pretension, and had 
 
 her face shaded by a veil, in the style of 
 the portraits of Isabey, was seated by 
 his side. Then came Legros, who was 
 occupied in making notes of those 
 points of the case, which had been com- 
 municated to him, and he took from 
 time to time, with remarkable tranquil- 
 lity, large pinches of snuff from the 
 richly- wrought gold box, which we have 
 already seen in his possession. 
 
 Chevillard had been frequently visited 
 by the doctor, to whose care his mental 
 state had been confided ; he had also 
 several times given his deposition be- 
 fore the foreman of the jury, and he 
 continued to display a sound and ready 
 judgment; consequently, he had re- 
 ceived, at the same time with Chabouil- 
 lant, a summons to appear as witness at 
 the public trial. 
 
 It had also been thought, that Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau might be able to fur- 
 nish some information, which would be 
 useful in discovering the truth, and she 
 had been likewise summoned to be 
 present. 
 
 Seated on the witness-bench, these 
 three pillars of the accusation excited 
 no less curiosity and attention than the 
 accused. 
 
 The judges having taken their seats, 
 and the indictment having been read, 
 the interrogation of the arraigned per- 
 sons was commenced. 
 
 During the interrogation, Morizot was 
 haughty and hasty, and contradicted 
 with audacity the charges brought 
 against him ; Legros evinced much 
 cunning, and showed himself to be a 
 skilful reasoner, and an adroit liar ; 
 whilst his mistress confined herself to a 
 course of denial, which she abundantly 
 accompanied with tears. 
 
 When it came to the turn of the wit- 
 nesses, Chabouillant obtained the palm 
 of gaiety, by his assurance, by his style, 
 which he had specially adorned for the 
 occasion, by the frankness of his con- 
 fessions, and finally by the merit of in- 
 vention, which could not fail to be re- 
 cognised in the rather questionable com- 
 bination through which he had nearly 
 gained a family -name. It is true, that, 
 when he had finished his deposition, he 
 received a pretty severe reprimand from 
 the president, with regard to the rather 
 irregular manner in which he had tried 
 to make himself out a Brevannes ; but, 
 on the whole, he was not seriously 
 compromised : it was xmiversally looked 
 upon as a good trick, that he had been 
 going to play on a set of wretches ; and 
 the odium attached to the character of
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 his adversaries procured for him a cor- 
 responding degree of sympathy, and a 
 sort of mirthful approbation. 
 
 Chevillard, having to relate his mis- 
 fortunes, was inpossession of too touching 
 a theme not to excite general interest, 
 and the pathos of his evidence, which 
 he delivered in very appropriate terms, 
 brought tears into the eyes of many of 
 his hearers. A great sensation was also 
 produced by his answer to Morizot's 
 advocate, who, hoping to make the cir- 
 cumstance of his insanity tell in favour 
 of his client, imprudently endeavoured 
 to throw some ironical doubts on his 
 perfect restoration to reason. " Sir," 
 he replied to the lawyer, with an 
 energy Avhich he derived from the 
 strength of his position, " since the 
 question between us is concerning a 
 sound judgment, and a right state of 
 mind, you, of the two, might be rather 
 considered as the insane person ; for if 
 you are honest, and convinced of the 
 justice of the case, as I suppose you to 
 be, you must be subject to terrible illu- 
 sions, to hope in the success of the 
 cause which you are defending." 
 
 The sensation produced in the assem- 
 bly by this happy and sharp retort, 
 had not yet ceased, when Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau was brought in. 
 
 The simple but tasteful style of her 
 dress, her reserved and modest air, 
 without any appearance of affectation 
 or timidity ; the charm of her face and 
 voice, which revealed intelligence and 
 goodness ; the impression which had 
 already been made in her favour, by all 
 that had been stated in the evidence, 
 concerning her character and strong 
 mind all contributed to attract the 
 sympathy of the auditory towards 
 her. 
 
 The ladies, especially, feeling that 
 their sex was honoured in her person, 
 were the most enthusiastic, and the 
 more readily so, as, from the mediocrity 
 of her rank, she could not excite any 
 sentiment of jealous rivalry. 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau knew, person- 
 ally, but very little concerning the facts 
 which were the foundation of the arti- 
 cles of accusation ; but she was the first 
 person to whom Chabouillant had con- 
 fided them, and it was she who advised 
 him to make them known to justice ; 
 and she could testify better than any 
 one else, as to the mental state and 
 moral conduct of Chevillard. She had 
 therefore been cited by the judicial ad- 
 ministration, in order to confirm the 
 evidence of the two clerks, both of 
 
 whom, on different accounts, presented 
 a vulnerable side to the defence. 
 
 The accusing party, having built 
 great expectations upon the striking 
 virtue of this charming girl, consulted 
 its interest in bringing forward all the 
 great and noble points of her general 
 conduct ; and, by adroit questions, the 
 government counsel obliged her to state 
 all the good that she had done. Whilst 
 undergoing this species of violence, to 
 which her modesty was subjected, the 
 young shopkeeper spoke of her good 
 actions with such perfect reserve, and 
 so much graceful simplicity, that uni- 
 versal signs of esteem and admiration 
 accompanied her, as she seated herself 
 on the witness-bench, after having 
 given her evidence. 
 
 The rest of the sitting was employed 
 in receiving evidence of a secondary 
 order ; and, on the following day, when 
 the court met again, the counsel for the 
 accusation began his address. 
 
 Taking up the history of the crime at 
 the moment of the discovery of the 
 blind men, he began by regretting the 
 absence of these two witnesses, who, a 
 very short time after their adventure, 
 had suddenly quitted the hospital of 
 the Quinze-Vingts, since which period, 
 not the slightest trace could be dis- 
 covered of them. Uniting the murder 
 of the marquis with the odious history 
 of the trap laid for Chevillard, the 
 orator did not perhaps use suitable dis- 
 cretion, when he described this unfortu- 
 nate young man giving himself up to a 
 deplorable fascination, and neglecting a 
 treasure of grace and virtue, which 
 offered itself to him, in order to rush 
 headlong into a series of horrible mis- 
 chances. 
 
 In speaking of Chabouillant, the ad- 
 vocate endeavoured, if we may so ex- 
 press ourselves, to gloss over the defec- 
 tive part of his conduct, by representing 
 him as an instrument of divine justice, 
 as a sort of living remorse following the 
 footsteps of crime ; to any unpleasant 
 prepossession that might be entertained 
 against this witness, he opposed a hor- 
 rible picture of the morals of the ac- 
 cused, which were of the most repulsive 
 nature, even when viewed apart from 
 the accusation of murder : he repre- 
 sented Morizot as a debauched and 
 avaricious man, who had appropriated 
 to himself the fortune of his former 
 master ; he showed Legros to be a 
 usurer, a gambler, and one who com- 
 piaisantly and readily undertook any 
 dark and ignoble intrigue ; whilst he
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 141 
 
 described his mistress, the girl Loison, 
 who called herself Madame de Saint- 
 Martin, as having passed her life in 
 following the detestable trade of a 
 female Mercury, 
 
 The representative of the law wound 
 up his discourse by an elaborate pero- 
 ration, in which he placed in relieA'o the 
 evident interposition of Providence, 
 which, at first, seemed to have confided 
 the secret of the murder to the protec- 
 tion of all kinds of human infirmity, 
 but which afterwards, like the sun 
 piercing through the clouds, had 
 cleared away all the obscurity -which 
 it had been pleased to shed over the 
 crime. 
 
 We must, however, acknowledge that 
 the effect of this discourse was partly 
 lost from the want of skill displayed by 
 the orator, in his arrangement of the 
 vast accumulation of detail, with which 
 the case was burdened. He too fre- 
 quently substituted a formal and logical 
 discussion for the breathings of elo- 
 quence, at the same time evincing a 
 sort of personal animosity against the 
 accused. A. decisive proof also of his 
 commonplace and limited mind, was, 
 that, having chosen for his peroration 
 the sublime theme which we have 
 already related, he did not know 
 where to stop, but spoilt everything by 
 introducing the never-ending topic of 
 the pillars which support society being 
 shaken to their foundation, if the jury 
 pronounced the acquittal of the crimi- 
 nals. 
 
 Rich, and having his head at stake, 
 Morizot had retained for his defence 
 one of the most celebrated ornaments of 
 the bar ; and, if the client was hideous, 
 it must be confessed that the cause (in 
 spite of the opinion expressed by Che- 
 villard) was a fine one for the advocate 
 to plead. Accordingly, the counsel for 
 the defendant was most eloquent, and 
 produced the greatest effect. 
 
 In the first place, he represented 
 Morizot as a victim of the unjust pre- 
 judices which were then entertained 
 against commissaries, and which arose 
 from jealousy, excited by the large 
 profits they made, and by their princely 
 fortunes. 
 
 Encouraged by these prejudices, Cha- 
 bouillant had no doubt formed a plan of 
 extortion, and there was nothing to 
 show why Chevillard, scarcely restored 
 to reason, should not have looked upon 
 the romantic tale, which had its birth 
 in the imagination of a clever sharper, 
 and which might very well have been 
 
 related to him, as a real event in which 
 he had been mixed up. 
 
 It had been said, that some letters 
 had been extorted from Chabouillant, 
 by violence, which the accused of course 
 would have kept in their possession : 
 how then was it possible, that they 
 should now have the magnanimity not 
 to produce them ? In short, all was 
 cleverly explained in favour of the in- 
 nocence of the accused ; whilst all the 
 contradictions and obscurity appeared to 
 be on the side of the accusers. 
 
 We must mention one more detail. 
 
 The privileges of arraigned persons 
 are so sacred, that their advocates think 
 they cannot extend them too far. Thus, 
 they occasionally allow themselves to 
 be transported beyond due bounds, and 
 do not always pay sufficient respect to 
 that which is most respectable and most 
 worthy of esteem. Accordingly, the 
 defender of Morizot, in order to weaken 
 the effect produced by Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau's evidence, thought he might 
 indulge in some piqztant insinuation, re- 
 garding the singular goodwill which 
 this young lady evinced towards her 
 book-keeper. But the public had already 
 formed their opinion respecting the 
 young shopkeeper, and whilst Chevil- 
 lard, moved by a feeling of indigna- 
 tion, which his patroness immediately 
 hastened to repress, rose to call the 
 orator to account, murmurs, proceeding 
 from all parts of the court, warned 
 the calumniator that he was making a 
 false step in opposing a general senti- 
 ment, which had taken a course 
 diametrically contrary to the one he 
 intended. Accustomed immediately to 
 perceive the opinion entertained by his 
 hearers, the advocate swerved from his 
 original intention, and, retracing his 
 steps, changed into a strong encomium 
 on the noble girl, the perfidious piece of 
 defamation which, without the attitude 
 assumed by the public, he had meant to 
 launch against her. Thus, on all sides, 
 and in spite of every obstacle, Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau obtained universal es- 
 teem and praise ; offering the rare ex- 
 ample of simple and unpretending virtue 
 unconsciously commanding admiration, 
 and gaining that unanimous sympathy 
 which is usually reserved for the alluring 
 and unstable illusion of more brilliant 
 qualities. 
 
 After the counsel for the two other 
 accused parties had been heard, con- 
 cerning whom there is not much to say, 
 for they only repeated the arguments 
 which had been advanced by Morizot's
 
 142 
 
 THE WIDOWS* WALK; OR, 
 
 advocate, the sitting was suspended for 
 a short time ; and it was easy to perceive, 
 from the conversation which was going 
 on in all parts of the court, that the 
 general opinion was, that the criminals 
 would be acquitted. Not that they had 
 succeeded in gaining the least degree 
 of sympathy, and indeed they were 
 generally regarded with the utmost dis- 
 gust ; but in the first place, the basis of 
 the offence was not even established, 
 for there was nothing that proved (be- 
 sides the affirmation of Chabouillant) 
 that the murdered man was really that 
 Marquis de Bravannes, on whose death 
 Morizot and his accomplices had so 
 much interest at stake. Secondly, 
 could sentence be passed, and three 
 heads sent to execution, on the sole 
 affirmation of an adventurer, and of one 
 who had been confined as a lunatic at 
 Charenton ? It appeared, therefore, ex- 
 tremely probable, that the accused 
 would be acquitted for want of sufficient 
 evidence, and the manner of the jury in 
 particular seemed to lead to the anticipa- 
 tion of this result. 
 
 When the judges had restrrned their 
 seats, the government counsel was called 
 upon for his reply, and he had been 
 speaking for some minutes, when a noise, 
 proceeding from the further end of vhe 
 court (which was the part reserved for 
 that portion of the public who were not 
 provided with tickets), soon overpowered 
 the voice of the orator. 
 
 A constable who was sent to ascertain 
 the cause of the tumult, and to repress 
 it, soon returned, and addressed to the 
 president a few words, which did not 
 reach the ear of the public. Soon after 
 the constable had gone out again, a 
 noise, as of sticks striking against the 
 floor, was heard in a covered passage, 
 which led from the room reserved for 
 the witnesses into the body of the court ; 
 and, at the same moment, to the great 
 surprise of all present, there entered our 
 old friends Michel and Corniquet, arm in 
 arm, and supporting each other. 
 
 At the sight of the two blind men, 
 the countenances of the accused turned 
 of a deadly paleness, and curiosity was 
 on all sides excited to a point which it 
 would be in vain to describe. 
 
 When asked why they had not obeyed 
 the judicial summons, the two virtuosi 
 began to speak together, so that it was 
 absolutely impossible to understand the 
 explanation they gave. 
 
 As Michel, according to custom, dis- 
 played great pretensions, the president 
 was struck by his confident and capable 
 
 air, and he allowed him alone to speak, 
 whilst he ordered Corniquet to keep 
 completely silent. 
 
 Michel then related, that, after their 
 unfortunate adventure, they had become 
 the objects of the continual jokes of 
 their comrades of the Quinze-Vingts, at 
 which they had been very much an- 
 noyed ; and that, about this time, a 
 stranger had presented himself at the 
 hospital, and had proposed to them to 
 enter into a speculation. The specula- 
 tion consisted in accompanying the said 
 stranger to Bordeaux, where he intended 
 establishing a Cafe des Aveugles, in imita- 
 tion of the one at Paris. He thought, by 
 announcing that the two members of 
 the Quinze-Vingts, who had obtained so 
 brilliant a popularity in the newspapers 
 of the capital, were to be seen at his 
 establishment, and that they directed 
 the orchestra there, he should be sure to 
 attract numerous and constant visitors. 
 
 The conditions which were offered 
 appearing advantageous, the two friends 
 had accepted them, and, without men- 
 tioning their intention to anybody, they 
 had followed the speculator to Bordeaux. 
 But theirs was not a happy move, for, 
 scarcely had they arrived at their place 
 of destination, when they found them- 
 selves deceived in their expectations. 
 The mayor of the town would not per- 
 mit the projected cafe to be opened, 
 and this because he feared it might be 
 too close a copy of the one at Paris ; and, 
 after experiencing numberless diffi- 
 culties in their negotiations with the 
 person who had engaged them, and who 
 (to use Michel's expression) was a beg- 
 garly rascal, our two virtuosi, ill-treated 
 by him, and without receiving any re- 
 muneration, were obliged to beg their 
 way back to Paris on foot, in order to 
 try to be readmitted into the asylum 
 which they had left. They had been a 
 fortnight on their journey, and had 
 arrived only that same morning in 
 Paris, where, hearing of the grand trial 
 which was going on, and in which 
 they were much concerned, they had 
 hastened to offer their evidence to the 
 court. 
 
 This explanation could not fail to be 
 favourably received, and the question 
 now was to learn from our two friends, 
 all they knew concerning the affair in 
 which they had been mixed up. 
 
 It being important to ascertain 
 whether their evidence would agree, 
 Corniquet was reconducted into the 
 witness-room, whilst Michel remained 
 in court to speak first.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 143 
 
 Before making his deposition, he had 
 to swear to speak the truth, the whole 
 truth, and nothing but the truth ; but 
 when he was told to raise his right hand, 
 he did not fail to raise the left, and then, 
 in his anxiety to repair this blunder, he 
 let fall his hat and stick, which he 
 next began to grope about for on the 
 ground. 
 
 Having once more obtained possession 
 of these precious objects, by the assis- 
 tance of one of the audience, he no 
 longer knew on which side was the 
 bench, which he had to address. Ac- 
 cording to his old mania of always 
 maintaining that he knew perfectly well 
 w-here he was, he roughly repulsed the 
 constable, who was going to place him 
 in the right direction ; then, facing the 
 company, and turning his back to the 
 judges, he raised his right arm above 
 his head, high enough to put it out of 
 joint. 
 
 They at last succeeded, amidst the 
 laughter of the assembly, in placing him 
 in the right position, and he related with 
 endless details the part he had played 
 in the events of the famous night of the 
 Avenue des Triomphes, as he called the 
 place where the scene had been laid, for 
 he would not yet believe that he had 
 been conducted to the Widows' Walk, 
 and he had continued every day to hold 
 lively discussions with Corniquet upon 
 this subject, saying, that it was the 
 police who had spread the latter report. 
 
 The important point now to be ascer- 
 tained, was, whether he would recognise 
 by the voice, one of the accused parties 
 to be the man who had imposed upon 
 him. and his comrade : Morizot had to 
 speak first, and Michel declared, that 
 he had never heard his voice before in 
 his life. 
 
 So far he was right, as well as respect- 
 ing a municipal guard, who was made 
 to pronounce a few words ; but he began 
 to get rather confused in his ideas when 
 he affirmed, in listening to Legros, 
 who spoke in his turn, that he was not 
 the man, and when he designated, as the 
 right party, the recorder of the court, to 
 whom the president had made a sign to 
 take part in the trial. 
 
 This blunder was received by a gene- 
 ral burst of hilarity, in which the accused 
 themselves joined, for it told greatly in 
 their favour ; and the prevailing opinion 
 began to be, that nothing would be 
 gained from these poor devils, when 
 Corniquet in his turn was brought in. 
 
 He began, however, by giving a pretty 
 good proof in favour of the possible 
 
 utility of his intervention, by the clear 
 and concise manner in which he gave 
 the account of his nocturnal adventure. 
 
 The testimony by sound now com- 
 menced ; he listened to Morizot and the 
 municipal guard with unchanged brow, 
 and made only a negative sign with his 
 head ; but as soon as Legros had spoken, 
 he exclaimed in an indescribable accent 
 of truth and conviction : " This is the 
 man who spoke to us !" 
 
 This declaration produced great com- 
 motion, whilst Legros changed counte- 
 nance, and almost fainted. 
 
 In order to test the infallibility of 
 this terrible allegation, the president 
 caused a great number of the officers of 
 the court to speak, designedly mixing 
 the sound of their voices with that of 
 Legros ; but not once did the unshaken 
 Corniquet hesitate, and not once did he 
 fail to detect the accusing accent and 
 organ, although the fearful anxiety of 
 Legros contributed to change his tone. 
 
 This proof was already very conclu- 
 sive ; but Corniquet himself suggested 
 the idea of another trial of skill, which 
 he felt himself competent to accomplish, 
 by remembering that the voice of a 
 woman had uttered moanings, and he 
 engaged to recognise this voice if he 
 heard it. 
 
 Many of those present did not con- 
 ceive to what a delicate point the sense 
 of hearing can be carried in a blind per- 
 son, and were ignorant that the observa- 
 tions of science have brought to light 
 almost miraculous examples* of this 
 kind ; they therefore feared that Coini- 
 quet, intoxicated by his success, had 
 taken upon himself an impracticable 
 task ; and curiosity, which, in this affair, 
 revived every moment, saw before it 
 a new cause of excitement. 
 
 There was at first some difficulty in 
 putting Corniquet's idea into execution, 
 for none of the women present much re- 
 lished the idea of performing in this kind 
 of puerperal comedy. At last some ma- 
 trons of the company, in round caps, 
 made up Jheir minds to render to justice 
 the service required of them, and the 
 trial began. 
 
 The countenance of the blind man 
 was in itself a spe^He ; the lively 
 characteristics of prUfind attention, 
 and intense powers of memory, being 
 depicteflin it. 
 
 Three times, and under a different 
 
 * See, among other proofs on the subject of 
 this memory of the ear, two excellent articles 
 which were published in 1831, in the Kerue de 
 Paris, by Monsieur Dufau, now director of the 
 Institution of the Juvenile Blind.
 
 144 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 form, the moaning of a woman in travail 
 struck upon his ear, and he remained 
 in the same posture ; but Saint-Martin 
 being heard in her turn, Covxdouet ap- 
 peared to listen still more a rciiUvely ; 
 he then made a sign with his hand, that 
 the woman should begin again ; and, 
 on this repetition, he declared it to be 
 the voice that he remembered. 
 
 After the president had done all that 
 the strictest sense of justice demanded, 
 in order to test the sincerity of these 
 two experiments, the government coun- 
 sel was called upon to continue his 
 speech ; but the latter, in rising, de- 
 clared that, after what had just occurred, 
 all oratorical persuasion appeared to 
 him useless, and that, in his opinion, 
 the fate of the accused seemed decided. 
 
 For the last moment or two, Legros 
 and his mistress, in the midst of the 
 consternation into which they had been 
 thrown, seemed to be concerting to- 
 gether, and Morizot cast some uneasy 
 glances towards them. 
 
 As soon as the menacing words of the 
 accusing officer had fallen from his 
 mouth, the woman rose and said with 
 volubility : " Mr. President, Legros 
 wishes to speak, but dares not." 
 
 " Well, Legros," said the prc- 
 "-rmi have the truth ready to escape 
 from your lips ; let it have free passage, 
 and, by the sincerity of your avowal, 
 merit the indulgence of the court." 
 
 " Well, then ! Mr. President " ex- 
 claimed the unhappy man. 
 
 With a rapid movement, Morizot rose, 
 and, casting a terrible look towards Le- 
 gros, demanded to be heard. 
 
 Legros, who had also risen, fell back 
 again upon the bench, hid his face, upon 
 which was depicted the conflict that 
 was taking place within him, in his 
 hands, and contented himself with say- 
 ing in a stifled voice : " We are inno- 
 cent, Mr. President; that is what I 
 wished to say." 
 
 Perceiving that Morizot exercised 
 over his accomplice a moral authority, 
 which would be an invincibly obstacle 
 to the evident desire of the latter to 
 make confession, the president com- 
 manded that the commissary should be 
 taken out of c^"*y and, from this mo- 
 ment, Morizo^jregarded himself as 
 lost. 
 
 In fact, as soon "as the larwcT fi-lt 
 himself released from the fascination 
 which this man exercised over him, he 
 rose, and, with a calmness which always 
 accompanies a firm determination, said : 
 " Mr. President, will you have the 
 
 goodness to require the witness Cha- 
 bmrillant to repeat the scene which 
 took place with him in the Widmcti' 
 Walk, and to ask him if he does not 
 owe his life to myself and this lady?" 
 
 " It is useless to recur to these de- 
 tails ; they are placed to your advan- 
 tage, especially if you acknowledge 
 them." 
 
 Without making a direct reply, Le- 
 gros continued : " Is it also Avell under- 
 stood, that, in the conversation at 
 Oifenburg, Monsieur Chabouillant was 
 able to deduce, from the words over- 
 heard by him, that this lady and my- 
 self disapproved of the murder of the 
 marquis, and that we only took part 
 in the means necessary to conceal the 
 affair ?" 
 
 " That was clearly expressed," re-- 
 plied Chabouillant, before he was called 
 upon ; " and it was repeated in my 
 presence, without being contradicted by 
 Morizot, when I was ensnared, and 
 forced to Avrite the letters." 
 
 " Xow, Mr. President," rejoined Le- 
 gros, " you see what we have been 
 guilty of, and whether we have not been 
 shamefully calumniated." 
 
 " But Morizot :" asked the govern- 
 ment-commissioner, with much warmth. 
 
 " Mr. Counsel, it does not belong to 
 me to accuse an absent friend ; I can 
 only say, that, if he had followed my 
 advice, he would not be in his present 
 situation." 
 
 After this evasive avowal, the cun- 
 ning lawyer sat down again, and if any 
 doubt could have attached itself to the 
 motive which, independently of his 
 horror of blood, and of his views upon 
 Chabouillant, had decided him to save 
 the life of so dangerous a witness 
 this motive, we think, is now fully ex- 
 plained. 
 
 The president then commanded, that 
 Morizot should be brought in again ; 
 but, at the same moment, much confu- 
 sion was heard outside ; and the con- 
 stable, returning in a state of excite- 
 ment, asked for the assistance of a 
 doctor ; the accused, he said, had just 
 stabbed himself to the heart, with a 
 small penknife which he had about 
 him, and which he had successfully 
 concealed from the vigilance of those 
 appointed to watch him. 
 
 Two minutes later, the doctor of Cha- 
 renton, who, being present as a witness, 
 had replied to flic call of the constable, 
 informed the court that the blow had 
 produced instant death ; thus the accu- 
 sation became null in the person of the
 
 THE MYSTEKY OF CRIME. 
 
 145 
 
 commissary, who, by this means, at 
 least, succeeded in rescuing his mime 
 and family from the disgrace oi' a capital 
 condemnation. 
 
 The painful feeling caused by this ter- 
 rible and unexpected event, suspended 
 the proceedings for a moment, but im- 
 passible justice soon resumed its course. 
 
 The president concisely summed up 
 the evidence, and, after the jury had 
 consulted together for a short time, Le- 
 gros and his mistress were declared to 
 be accomplices in the murder which 
 had been perpetrated 011 the person of 
 the ci-devant Marqxiis de Brevannes. 
 
 1!) 
 
 The fact of nonpretneditatian being 
 admitted, they were condemned to hard 
 labour for life ; and they thus received 
 the benefit of their clemency towards 
 Chabouillant, and got off as cheaply as 
 if attenuating circumstances had been 
 introduced into the judicial practice of 
 that period. 
 
 When sentence hW been passed, the 
 president addressed some kind words to 
 the blind men, and to Corniquct in par- 
 ticular ; and he promised to take all the 
 necessary steps for procuring their re- 
 admission into the national institution 
 of the Quinzc-Vingts, where lor the
 
 146 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OH, 
 
 future, it was probable that they would 
 be anything but objects of derision to 
 their comrades. A collection was also 
 made for them on the spot, among the 
 company present in court, and towards 
 which Mademoiselle Lebeau most gene- 
 rously contributed : by this means they 
 obtained a considerable sum, and were 
 put in immediate possession of it ; and 
 it is pretty generally known, that a well- 
 furnished purse has considerable in- 
 fluence over the consideration of man- 
 kind in general. 
 
 With regard to the strong-nerved and 
 elegantly -dressed ladies, we are of opinion 
 that they must have been perfectly sa- 
 tisfied with their day, and must have 
 found it sufficiently rich in excitement. 
 It must, however; be confessed, that 
 Morizot cheated them in some degree, 
 by killing himself in an adjoining room, 
 instead of performing the deed publicly 
 before the assembly ; it was the verbal 
 account at the end of the old tragedy, 
 very disagreeably substituted for the 
 lively and stirring action of the modern 
 drama. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE LEBEAU, who did not 
 pride herself in the strength of her 
 nerves, had no taste for those terrible 
 scenes, Avhich end with the executioner ; 
 therefore, when the president declared 
 the pleadings to be over, and was about 
 to sum up the evidence, she asked for 
 and obtained permission to retire. The 
 same indulgence could not be exercised 
 with regard to Chevillard, as the im- 
 portant part which he had acted 
 throughout the affair, might render 
 his presence necessary ; he was there- 
 fore unable to accompany his patroness, 
 and remained in court with Chabouil- 
 lant; the latter promising Mademoi- 
 selle Lebeau to watch over the conva- 
 lescent, and to accompany him home, as 
 soon as the trial was ended. 
 
 The sentence was not passed until 
 late in the evening, and the sitting had 
 lasted without interruption, since twelve 
 o'clock in the day, so that the auditor y, 
 including the two clerks, had been kept 
 fasting, and left the court almost dying 
 with hunger. jg 
 
 Chabouillant Ptainded Chevillard, 
 that the doctor had expressly pro- 
 hibited, in his presence, a spare diet for 
 his patient ; and he therefore proposed, 
 that, before going home, they should 
 take some refreshment together, at the 
 first restaurant they came to. 
 
 Chevillard shuddered at this sugges- 
 tion, for he remembered that he might 
 date all his misfortunes from the dinner 
 which the commercial traveller had 
 given him some months before ; but 
 considering, that he still owed a return 
 for this politeness, and being now con- 
 vinced, contrary to his former ideas, 
 that, in the greater part of the misfor- 
 tunes of life, our imprudence is as much 
 to blame as fate, he did not perceive 
 any particular objection to the pro- 
 posal that had been made to him ; he 
 only stipulated, that they should sup in 
 a moderate style, and that he should 
 exercise his right of being, in his turn, 
 the Amphitryon. These conditions were 
 too reasonable not to be accepted. 
 
 Behold, then! after the most cruel 
 and unexpected vicissitudes of fortune, 
 our two friends placed in the same 
 situation in which they were found at 
 the commencement of this story ; but 
 misfortune having matured their minds, 
 this meeting in no point resembled 
 their former one. The repast was 
 simple ; they drank only to satisfy their 
 thirst, and their conversation was as 
 serious as it had before been empty and 
 trifling. 
 
 Chabouillant learned with lively re- 
 gret (for until this moment, they had 
 not had an opportunity of being alone 
 together, for Chevillard to impart it to 
 him), the cruel influence Avhich his im- 
 prudent introduction into the gambling- 
 house had exercised over the life of his 
 friend. The eye of the commercial 
 traveller indeed sparkled a little, at the 
 thought of all the gold which had been 
 for a moment the property of their 
 joint -stock concern; however, whilst 
 he heaped energetic maledictions upon 
 the head of Legros, for his fatal inter- 
 ference, it was less from regret for the 
 loss of the fortune which had so 
 quickly vanished under this man's de- 
 testable advice, than from the recollec- 
 tion of the cruel deceptions to which 
 the unfortunate Chevillard had been 
 subjected. He even maintained that, as 
 they had agreed to marry \ he ought to 
 pay half of the sum which had been 
 emploved to the prejudice of Mademoi- 
 selle Lebeau, and it was with great 
 difficulty that he was induced to aban- 
 don the idea of this honourable repara- 
 tion. 
 
 When they had exhausted past 
 events, they began to speak of the 
 future ; and Chabouillant seriously an- 
 nounced to his friend, that, in conse- 
 quence of the false position in which he
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 147 
 
 found himself placed by his imprudence, 
 he had decided upon taking a resolute 
 step, and upon expatriating himself. 
 " Yes," said he, " after what has 
 passed, I can no longer live in France 
 with any pleasure ; I intend to go and 
 try my fortune in America ; at the end 
 of some years, my folly will be for- 
 gotten; or, should it be still remem- 
 bered, the money which I shall have in 
 ballast, and of which I shall make an 
 honourable use, will gain me considera- 
 tion; unless, before that time," added 
 he, in a melancholy voice, " rattle- 
 snakes or the yellow fever " 
 
 " Ah ! you think of going to Ame- 
 rica!" said Chevillard, meditating; " in- 
 deed, that suggests an idea to me. And 
 when do you go ?" 
 
 " As soon as possible. I intend, to- 
 morrow, paying a visit to our excellent 
 patroness, to see if she will furnish me 
 with some orders ; after which, I shall 
 repair to Bordeaux, to embark." 
 
 " Well ! my friend, you shall not go 
 alone." 
 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 " Yes, I will also make the voyage, 
 and accompany you." 
 
 " Nonsense ! why do you take this 
 desperate course ?" 
 
 " I, like yourself, have lost all claim 
 to consideration. An object for public 
 derision, through my foolish marriage, 
 and having been known as a madman, 
 what kind of reputation can I now 
 have ?" 
 
 " But you have so sweet and peace- 
 ful a retreat at Mademoiselle Lebeau's ; 
 and, as I told you the other day, you 
 have only to say a word, to obtain 
 the highest place in her heart and 
 house." 
 
 " Do not let us touch on that subject ; 
 you are striking a very sensitive chord, 
 and the ideas to which you allude are 
 perhaps the original motive for my 
 departure." 
 
 " How now ! I do not understand 
 you. Mademoiselle Lebeau is not a girl 
 to force herself upon anybody, and if, 
 decidedly you cannot reconcile yourself 
 to the notion of becoming her husband 
 
 " I, her husband !" exclaimed Che- 
 villard, with great emotion ; "an un- 
 fortunate, vile wretch like myself; I, 
 who am no longer capable of exciting 
 anything but pity!" 
 
 " Chevillard !" said the commercial 
 traveller, looking at him full in the face, 
 " have we experienced a revolution in 
 our ideas? has the little roguish god, 
 
 who has often played worse tricks than 
 this, at last opened your eyes to the 
 eminent merit of a certain person ?" 
 
 Chevillard for some time did not 
 make any reply ; then, suddenly allow- 
 ing his secret to escape from him, he 
 said : " I do not conceal it from you, a 
 great change has taken place in my 
 ideas !" 
 
 " Then I congratulate you ; you are 
 at least approaching to the desired 
 point." 
 
 " Yes, my friend, I love her ; and I 
 love her so, as almost to cause again 
 the loss of my reason." 
 
 " The deuce, my dear fellow ! it was 
 a long time coming, but I now see that 
 we are slightly hooked !" 
 
 " And what sort of man should I then 
 be," exclaimed the book-keeper, with 
 enthusiasm, " were I not ready to kiss 
 the print of her feet ! a woman whom I 
 treated with ingratitude, and who has 
 only revenged herself by kindness ; who 
 released me from, prison, and who, du- 
 ring my illness, came every day to sit 
 by the side of my bed ; a woman, whose 
 virtues have just obtained public ho- 
 mage, and before whom calumny itself 
 has been obliged to retreat !" 
 
 " Whence you conclude," said Cha- 
 bouillant, with a sly look, " that you 
 must set off for America, and leave this 
 angel of a woman behind you ?" 
 
 " Without doubt, honour obliges me 
 to do so." 
 
 " You argue very justly, my dear fel- 
 low," rejoined the commercial traveller, 
 " and I shall look upon you as a great 
 scoundrel, if, in three days from this 
 time, you are not already on your road; 
 but make yourself easy," added he, 
 rising, " I will undertake to arrange 
 the affair, and will make all the neces- 
 sary preparations for the honourable 
 exile which you are meditating to enter 
 upon. Let us now retire to rest, and 
 we will talk more on the subject to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 Chevillard was a little astonished at 
 the eagerness with which Chabouillant 
 embraced his project of expatriating 
 himself; he thought he might have 
 made some objections to it, and have en- 
 tered into the subject a little more fully. 
 He would not, however, allow his opi- 
 nion to be perceived ; but, in reality, he 
 quitted his friend, regretting that he 
 had too readily confided to him, as a 
 decided project^ what was in truth only 
 a sudden resolution, the bearings and 
 consequences of which he had not given 
 himself time to consider.
 
 148 
 
 THK WIDOWS' WALK ; OR, 
 
 Early on the following morning, Cha- 
 bouillant entered the office of the book- 
 keeper, and asked him if he still kept to 
 his resolution. Chevillard answered, 
 with an embarrassed air, that he had 
 been reflecting on the matter, and that 
 he wished to speak more seriously con- 
 cerning it. 
 
 " Very well!" replied the commercial 
 traveller, " we will talk of it again;" 
 then, with the manner of a man who 
 had no time to lose, he asked : "Is our 
 patroness within r" 
 
 " Yes, in her private room," answered 
 Chevillard; " but do not say anything 
 to her yet, about my projected voyage ; 
 it is more proper that I should be the 
 first to inform her of it ; and the more 
 so, you see " 
 
 " All right !" said Chabouillant, leav- 
 ing the office, without hearing the end 
 of this sentence ; and he immediately 
 repaired to the presence of Mademoi- 
 selle Lebeau. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said he, after the 
 customary forms of politeness had been 
 observed, " you see before you, a man 
 who has come to take leave of you." 
 
 " You are going away, Monsieur Cha- 
 bouillant? and pray where are you 
 going tor" 
 
 " I perceive, and you will, I am sure, 
 see it in the same light, that, after what 
 has happened, I cannot with propriety 
 remain in France. I have therefore 
 decided to seek in another hemisphere 
 the family which I have looked for in 
 vain in this." 
 
 "Then you meditate taking a very 
 long voyage r" 
 
 " I intend, mademoiselle, to go to 
 Rio de Janeiro, and probably to establish 
 myself there." 
 
 " It is very painful to see our friends 
 thus depart ; but I cannot disapprove 
 of your project. It is certain, that you 
 might here meet with many things 
 which would be disagreeable to you." 
 
 " "Undoubtedly," replied Chabouil- 
 lant, " it is a determination which I 
 ought to take ; besides, I have a great 
 consolation in my misfortune, and the 
 company of a friend, who is going with 
 me, will render my exile more easy to 
 bear." 
 
 " Who then is going with you ?" de- 
 manded Mademoiselle Lebeau. 
 
 " I think he must have spoken to 
 you on the subject," rejoined Chabouil- 
 lant. 
 
 " To me ! no ; do I know him then :" 
 
 " Know him, indeed ! Mademoiselle, 
 it is Chevillard." 
 
 'Monsieur Chevillard!" exclaimed 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau, with sorrowful 
 astonishment. " You cannot be speak- 
 ing seriously." 
 
 " Very seriously. The poor fellow 
 has the same reasons as myself, for 
 finding himself here rather out of his 
 right position ; his foolish marriage, his 
 insanity " 
 
 " But these are only misfortunes," 
 eagerly replied the young shopkeeper. 
 
 " I well know," answered Chabouil- 
 lant, without appearing hurt by this 
 remark, " that there is a certain shade 
 of difference between our two positions ; 
 but besides all this, he has a strong mo- 
 tive for going away." 
 
 " And, may this motive be known?" 
 
 " Ah ! he makes no secret of it ; he 
 says, that, if he does not take his flight 
 beyond the seas, he shall go mad again ; 
 and having already had a taste of the 
 thing, he does not feel any particular 
 inclination for more." 
 
 " But what can cause a relapse ? He 
 has a very quiet post here ; I shall take 
 care, that he is not too much burthened 
 with work, and it is very certain that 
 nobody will tease him." 
 
 " That is true ; but there are so many 
 causes for driving a man mad ! There 
 is the madman through ambition, the 
 madman through money, the madman 
 through music, Ilfanatico per la musica, 
 which I saw performed this year at 
 Berlin ; we have also Nina, or la Folle 
 par amour."* 
 
 As Chabouillant had laid particular 
 stress upon this last species of madness, 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau observed : " I 
 thought, that, without being absolutely 
 consoled for the loss of his wife, he did 
 not entertain so sorrowful a remembrance 
 of her as would be likely to affect his 
 reason." 
 
 " His wife r" replied Chabouillant ; 
 " the question is not of her !" 
 
 " But of whom then :" asked the 
 poor girl, with the utmost anxiety ; 
 and, as the malicious clerk remained 
 silent, she added, overstepping her 
 usual reserve : " Speak then, Monsieur 
 Chabouillant ; you seem to take plea- 
 sure in partly revealing secrets, which 
 you will not afterwards disclose." 
 
 " Not so, but I am seeking how to 
 express myself; in short, mademoiselle 
 
 do you think any one can become 
 
 mad through gratitude r" 
 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau looked at him 
 with some curiosity, and replied : " Gra- 
 titude has always appeared to me a 
 * Mad for love.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CRIME. 
 
 149 
 
 tranquil sentiment, which could not 
 produce such dangerous effects." 
 
 " Eh ! eh ! that depends on persons 
 and circumstances. For example, if 
 you, mademoiselle, had done the quarter 
 for me that you have done for Chevil- 
 lard, do you think that I should not 
 adore you as a divinity, and that my 
 senses would not be in danger whilst 
 near your" 
 
 " Perhaps you might," gaily replied 
 Mademoiselle Lebeau ; " but Monsieur 
 Chevillard !" 
 
 " Well, mademoiselle, this is just 
 where you are deceived : Chevillard no 
 longer recognises himself; he tells every- 
 body, that formerly you had a liking for 
 him " 
 
 " How ! " exclaimed Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, with dignity ; " he tells every- 
 body " 
 
 " Pardon me,' I get confused ; I meant 
 to say, that everybody remarks to him, 
 that formerly you appeared to have a 
 liking for him, and that he, stupid and 
 blind " 
 
 " But, in correcting yourself, I do not 
 see that you improve the matter." 
 
 " In short, mademoiselle, it is very 
 difficult to explain, particularly when I 
 am always being interrupted ; but this 
 is the plain state of the case, in two 
 words : you loved Chevillard, when he 
 did not know it, and now he does not 
 know whether you love him when he 
 loves you." 
 
 " In any case," said Mademoiselle 
 Lebeau, half laughing and half angry, 
 " if he has commissioned you to speak 
 for him, I do not congratulate him 
 upon the choice of his ambassador ; 
 you have so confused the matter, that 
 it is impossible to make anything out of 
 it." 
 
 " I sum it up then," rejoined the 
 commercial traveller, " and to speak in 
 plain terms, I ask you this question : 
 Must I tell Chevillard, that you com- 
 mand him to remain " 
 
 " But, Monsieur Chabouillant, your 
 friend is free, and you well know that I 
 have no right to command him." 
 
 " No Jesuitism, mademoiselle ! Che- 
 villard is determined to go, if you do not 
 love him I" 
 
 " Well then, as I said at the begin- 
 ing of this conversation, I do not see 
 any reason why he should go." 
 
 " Ah ! divine! divine!" exclaimed 
 Chabouillant, taking Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau's hand, which he covered with 
 kisses ; and as the latter drew it away 
 in some confusion, he added : " I am 
 
 only taking the earnest money ;" then 
 opening the door, he called out : " Che- 
 villard ! Chevillard!" 
 
 Astonished to hear himself called 
 with so much eagerness, Chevillard soon 
 after made his appearance, and perceiv- 
 ing the countenance of Chabouillant 
 beaming with joy, and that of Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau of a deep crimson, he 
 looked first at one and then at the other, 
 with no little surprise. 
 
 " My noble friend," said Chabouillant, 
 going straight up to him, " did you not 
 tell me last night at supper, that you 
 had become madly in love with Made- 
 moiselle ?" 
 
 " Well, I am sure !" replied Chevil- 
 lard, very angry ; " it is you who are 
 mad to talk thus." 
 
 " Permit me to speak," rejoined the 
 commercial traveller ; " these are your 
 own expressions : ' What sort of man 
 should I then be, were I not ready to 
 kiss the print of her feet ! this woman 
 whose virtues have just obtained public 
 homage !' " 
 
 " I might have said this, without at- 
 taching to it the same meaning which 
 yoxi do." 
 
 " Take care ! no denial, or you will 
 spoil everything." 
 
 "But, really " answered the 
 
 book-keeper, much embarrassed. 
 
 " The question is this," said Cha- 
 bouillant, cutting short all equivocation : 
 "Is it agreeable to you or not, to be- 
 come the husband of the tricoloured 
 fairy t" 
 
 " Monsieur Chevillard," said Made- 
 moiselle Lebeau, seeing that the poor 
 fellow had fixed upon her a look which 
 asked for the confirmation of this sud- 
 den hope, " I have reflected much 
 concerning my situation ; we have been 
 publicly declared to entertain for each 
 other sentiments more or less true, but 
 which do not render it the less difficult 
 for me to choose a husband ; in this em- 
 barrassment, an idea occurred to Mon- 
 sieur Chabouillant, which he submitted 
 to my attention, and which it appears 
 that I have not sufficiently combatted, 
 since he conceives himself authorised to 
 speak to you of a marriage. However, 
 nothing shall be done without your 
 assent, and if you like better to go 
 away " 
 
 "Ah! mademoiselle!" exclaimed 
 Chevillard, throwing himself at her feet ; 
 " what have I done to deserve so much 
 happiness ?" 
 
 " You have been unfortunate," an- 
 swered the amiable girl ; and she ex-
 
 150 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK; OK, 
 
 tended to him her hand, which he bathed 
 with tears of joy. 
 
 " Behold," said Chabouillant, " it is 
 thus that : 
 
 ' After a storm, we see fine weather !' " 
 
 " Now, mademoislle, " added he, 
 " should it suit you to appoint me your 
 agent for the Brazils, I tender you my 
 services, and I shall set off this evening 
 at the latest." 
 
 " But why this sad resolution ?" said 
 Chevillard. 
 
 " I should doubtless have much liked 
 to witness your happiness," replied the 
 commercial traveller ; " but is it not 
 true, mademoiselle, that I am obliged to 
 leave France ?" 
 
 " I wish I could detain you," an- 
 swered Mademoiselle Lebeau, " but my 
 real opinion is, that your departure is 
 necessary. With your intelligence and 
 activity, you cannot do otherwise than 
 succeed ; and as much as depends upon 
 me, I will assist you to my utmost 
 ability. In a few years, you will return 
 to us ; by that time all will be forgotten, 
 and this voluntary exile will have been 
 an expiation for your past fault. Go 
 then ; but think sometimes of us, as we 
 shall think of you, and let us often hear 
 from you." 
 
 " At least," said Chabouillant, " let 
 me be allowed to kiss the bride ; it will 
 bring me good luck." 
 
 The young girl blushingly presented 
 to him her bloommg cheek. 
 
 " My friend," said Chevillard, em- 
 bracing him, " if you have ever in any 
 way been the cause of my misfortunes, 
 you have now insured my happiness." 
 
 i,' Well," rejoined the commercial 
 traveller, taking a hand of each, " think 
 sometimes of the poor exile ;" and, feel- 
 'ing " w ih&t his courage was failing him, 
 and that tears were starting into his 
 eyes, he hastened away. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 FOUR years later, from the top of a 
 terrace planted with linden-trees, and 
 which belonged to an elegant habita- 
 tion, a young woman, leaning upon the 
 arm of her husband, was contemplating 
 with delight, on a fine autumn morning, 
 the magnificent view formed by the 
 valley of Montmorency, below the vil- 
 lage of Sannois. At a tew paces distant 
 from the happy couple, two charming 
 children, a boy and a girl, were wholly 
 intent upon filling a little cart with the 
 dry leaves, which began to cover the 
 walks ; the sudden sound of a carriage, 
 
 passing rapidly at the foot of the terrace 
 wall, drew the little labourers from 
 their attractive employment, and soon 
 occupied all their attention. 
 
 Their curiosity was not disappointed, 
 for a coachman in a yellow livery and 
 blue plush breeches, was driving two 
 beautiful cream-coloured horses, and 
 behind the carriage stood a magnificent 
 negro, in the most splendid and pic- 
 turesque costume. 
 
 Whilst the children were exclaiming 
 at the beauty of this equipage, in which 
 the taste that had been displayed might 
 however be deemed rather equivocal, 
 one of the two persons who were seated 
 inside, leaned his head out of the win- 
 dow, and bowed. 
 
 " Why, it is Chabouillant ! " ex- 
 claimed the husband of the young 
 woman, who proves to be Madame 
 Chevillard, formerly Mademoiselle Le- 
 beau. 
 
 The latter at first expressed some 
 doubt as to her husband's having seen 
 aright ; but directly after, a servant 
 came to announce, that some strangers 
 were waiting in the drawing-room ; and 
 the married pair, hastening to receive 
 them, recognised indeed the enterprising 
 and jovial commercial traveller, in the 
 personage, decorated with several orders, 
 who threw himself into their arms. 
 Finding that they no longer resided in 
 theRuedesDeux-Portes-Saint-Sauveur, 
 he had hastened to their country-house 
 to embrace them. 
 
 He was accompanied by a young 
 Brazilian lady, a beauty of rather an 
 olive complexion, whom he presented 
 to Monsieur and Madame Chevillard as 
 his wife. The stranger responded with 
 gravity, but at the same time with affec- 
 tionate politeness, to their attentive and 
 cordial reception of her. 
 
 It was not necessary to put many 
 questions to Chabouillant, in order to 
 have an explanation of the metamor- 
 phosis, which had taken place in him. 
 He was scarcely seated, when he related, 
 that, having obtained a situation in the 
 establishment of one of the principal 
 bankers at Rio de Janeiro, he had been 
 fortunate enough to touch the heart of 
 his only daughter. Seeing only with 
 the eyes of his beloved child, the worthy 
 Brazilian had consented to the marriage 
 of the lovers ; and dying soon after, he 
 had left his son-in-law at the head of 
 one of the richest banking-houses in the 
 country. 
 
 In order not to make any change 
 in the commercial firm, Chabouillant,
 
 THE MYSTERY OF CEIME. 
 
 151 
 
 whilst going through, the necessary 
 forms relating to the subject, had taken 
 the name of his father-in-law : so that, 
 after all his anxiety to procure for him- 
 self family consideration, he had become 
 the legitimate proprietor of one of those 
 fine strings of harmonious and high- 
 sounding names, with which the Por- 
 tuguese aristocracy proudly adorn them- 
 selves. He called himself, therefore, 
 Joseph - Melchior - Maldonado - Saraiba 
 d'Enserrabodes. 
 
 " Good heavens !" exclaimed Madame 
 Chevillard, in a tone of anxiety ; " you 
 have now so many names, that I much 
 fear I shall not be able to remember 
 them all." 
 
 "This is provided against," rejoined 
 the ex-commercial traveller in the same 
 strain ; and adopting a style which was 
 certainly quite first-rate for that period, 
 when an address was written down 
 without ceremony on the first stray 
 card, he presented one to his hosts, 
 richly engraved and ornamented, in order 
 that they might study at their leisure, 
 and class in their memory, his new and 
 encyclopaedical denomination. 
 
 One of the grand means of seduction, 
 by which Chabouillant had succeeded 
 with the inflammable person who had 
 become his wife, was the flowery style 
 which* characterized his conversation. 
 He was not therefore altered in this par- 
 ticular ; on the contrary, the language 
 which he made use of, warmed by the 
 rays of a tropical sun, and loaded with me- 
 taphors borrowed from the picturesque 
 nature of the country which he had lately 
 inhabited, had risen to the wildest style 
 of poetry, and might aptly be compared 
 to those virgiA forests with which the 
 Brazilian soil is covered. 
 
 If Chevillard and his wife were 
 pleased at the good success which had 
 followed the courageous determination 
 of their old friend, Chabouillant was no 
 less satisfied in learning from them, that, 
 having already retired from trade with a 
 respectable fortune, their union had 
 been productive to them of true happi- 
 ness, which no mischance had hitherto 
 imbittered. 
 
 The first visit of the American banker 
 was rather short ; but, having promised 
 to pass at least a week with his old 
 friends, he arrived a few days after with 
 a cargo of monkeys, parrots, and other 
 birds of magnificent plumage, which he 
 presented to Madame Chevillard, and 
 which formed the delight of her chil- 
 dren. 
 
 One evening, when Madame Cha- 
 
 bouillant had retired early to rest, her 
 husband related to Chevillard and his 
 wife, that, having arrived by the way of 
 Rochefort, he had visited the hulks, 
 where his nerves had been considerably 
 shaken by an accidental rencounter. 
 
 In the dress of a galley-slave, and 
 chained by the foot, he had recognised 
 Legros, notwithstanding the change 
 which hard work and mental suffering 
 had produced in the features of this 
 wretched man. In a short conversation 
 which they had together, the latter in- 
 formed him of the death of the woman 
 who had been his accomplice. In obe- 
 dience to that fine Christian maxim, 
 which enjoins pity for every sin, Cha- 
 bouillant had put an end to this inter- 
 view with an old acquaintance, by 
 bestowing a considerable alms upon 
 Legros, accompanying it with all the 
 words of consolation which the occur- 
 rence had suggested to him. The good 
 heart of Madame Chevillard applauded 
 this deed of charity, and consequently 
 her husband also approved it highly. 
 An agreeable habit which he had formed, 
 and one which he found answered very 
 well, was always to be of the same 
 opinion as his wife. 
 
 After a week had passed in sweet in- 
 timacy, the friends separated with the 
 hope of meeting again, for Chabouillant 
 confessed that France was always court- 
 ing him back, and that he could not 
 abstain from paying it a visit from time 
 to time. 
 
 At a much later period, we find Che- 
 villard invested with municipal func- 
 tions, and his wife honoured with the 
 title of the mother of the poor ; her in- 
 exhaustible benevolence, and the estab- 
 lishment of an asylum and a work-room 
 for young female orphans, loaded her 
 with the blessings of the surrounding 
 country. 
 
 The fearful house which we have so 
 many times entered, did not meet with 
 a better end than its ancient proprietors. 
 Abandoned for a long time, and falling 
 into decay, it was sold by the family of 
 the Morizots, which had quitted France. 
 Bought by a retired sutler, in order to 
 be let out in furnished apartments, and 
 to carry on a sale of brandy and beer, 
 it presented a most dilapidated appear- 
 ance, and was at last destroyed by a 
 conflagration. 
 
 With regard to the Widows' Walk, it 
 has now lost much of its deplorable 
 notoriety. 
 
 Although lighted with gas, and en- 
 closed by respectable habitations, which
 
 152 
 
 THE WIDOWS' WALK ; OK, 
 
 have greatly increased there of late, 
 some prejudice still continues to be 
 cherished against it ; hut it advances a 
 forcible protest against its past reputa- 
 tion, by its being the site of the celebra- 
 
 ted Jardin Mabille, a chorographical and 
 rural establishment, of which Chabouil- 
 lant, in the merry and impetuous years 
 of his youth, would certainly have 
 formed the principal ornament. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 K. AITLEVAKD, 86, 1'aningdon Street, London.
 
 Jromwhich-it was borrowed.
 
 1158007809014 
 
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