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 Book No. ..
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE
 
 " Hush ! " murmured Noel. " They must not take me alive."
 
 THE WIDOW 
 LEROUGE 
 
 Translated from the French of 
 
 EMILE GABORIAU 
 
 Illustrated by 
 LOUISE L. HEUSTIS 
 
 Charles Scribner's Sons 
 New York 1903
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1873, BY 
 JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " Hush ! " murmured Noel. " They must not take me 
 alive." Frontispiece 
 
 Facing 
 page 
 
 In the inner room, near the chimney, was found extended 
 upon the hearth the dead body of the Widow Lerouge. 4 
 
 " Claire Mademoiselle I love you." 138 
 
 He went in to sit in the sick-room. The lamp was lighted 
 and the sister moved back and forth 302
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON Thursday, the 6th of March, 1862, two days after 
 Shrove Tuesday, five women of the village of Jonchere 
 presented themselves at the bureau of police at Bougi- 
 val. 
 
 They stated that for two days past no one had seen 
 the Widow Lerouge, one of their neighbors, who lived 
 by herself in an isolated cottage. The house was shut 
 up. Several persons had knocked without receiving 
 an answer. The window-shutters as well as the door 
 were closed ; and it was impossible to obtain even a 
 glimpse of the interior. 
 
 This state of affairs alarmed them. Apprehensive of 
 a crime, or at the least an accident, they demanded the 
 interference of justice to satisfy their doubts by forcing 
 the door and entering the house. 
 
 Bougival is a quiet maritime village, its inhabitants 
 principally boatmen, who ply upon the river. Trifling 
 offences are sometimes heard of in its neighborhood, 
 but crimes are rare. 
 
 The commissary of police at first refused to listen to 
 the women, but their importunities fatigued him into 
 compliance. He called into requisition the services of a
 
 2 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 locksmith, the brigadier of gendarmes, and two of his 
 men; and, thus accompanied, he followed the neighbor 
 of the Widow Lerouge. 
 
 Whatever celebrity it possesses, La Jonchere owes to 
 the projectors of the railway, which has now passed 
 close to it for several years, with more enterprise than 
 profit. It is a hamlet of small importance, seated upon 
 the side of the hill which overlooks the Seine between 
 Malmaison and Bougival. It is about twenty minutes' 
 walk from the main road ; which, passing by Rueil and 
 Port Marly, goes from Paris to St. Germain. A steep 
 and rugged road, or rather by-path, not easily travelled, 
 turning off at right angles from the main road, leads 
 to it. 
 
 The little troup, headed by the gendarmes, followed 
 the highway bordering the river, until it reached this 
 cross-road, into which it turned, and after stumbling 
 over its rugged inequalities for about a hundred yards 
 halted before the dwelling of the Widow Lerouge. 
 
 It was a house, or rather cottage, of modest, but com- 
 fortable appearance, and must have been built by some 
 Parisian shopkeeper in love with the beauties of 
 Nature ; for all the trees had been carefully cut down. 
 More deep than wide, it consisted of two apartments on 
 the ground floor with a loft above. Around it extended 
 a much-neglected garden, enclosed by a wall of dry 
 stones about three feet high, much dilapidated, broken 
 and crumbling in many places, and affording but slight 
 protection against trespassers. To this garden a light 
 wooden gate, turning on hinges clumsily constructed of 
 iron wire, gave access. 
 
 " This is the house," said the women. 
 
 The commissary turned. During his short walk, the 
 number of his followers had been rapidly increasing,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 3 
 
 and now included all the idle persons in the village. He 
 saw before him about forty peasants of both sexes, 
 nearly wild with curiosity. 
 
 " Let no one enter the garden," said he ; and, to en- 
 sure obedience, he placed the two gendarmes on sentry 
 before the entrance, and advanced towards the house, 
 accompanied by the brigadier and the locksmith. 
 
 After calling several times, he knocked loudly with 
 his cane, at the door first, and then successively at each 
 of the window-shutters. After each blow, he placed his 
 ear against the wood and listened. Hearing nothing, he 
 turned to the locksmith. 
 
 " Open ! " said he. 
 
 The workman unstrapped his basket, and produced 
 his implements. He had already introduced a skeleton 
 key into the lock, when a loud exclamation was heard 
 from the crowd outside the gate. 
 
 " The key ! " they cried. " Here is the key ! " 
 
 An urchin of some dozen years, playing with his com- 
 panions, had perceived in a ditch by the roadside an 
 enormous key, which he had picked up and carried to 
 the cottage in triumph. 
 
 " Give it to me gamin," said the brigadier. " We 
 shall see." 
 
 The key was tried. It was, in fact, the key of the 
 house. 
 
 The commissary and the locksmith exchanged glances 
 full of sinister misgivings. " This looks bad," muttered 
 the brigadier. They entered the house; while the 
 crowd, restrained with difficulty by the gendarmes, 
 stamped with impatience, or clambered on the garden 
 wall, stretching their necks eagerly, to see or hear some- 
 thing of what was passing within the cottage. 
 
 Those who anticipated the discovery of crime, were
 
 4 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 unhappily not deceived. Of this the commissary was 
 satisfied upon the threshold. Every thing in the first 
 room pointed with a sad eloquence to the presence of a 
 malefactor. The furniture a bureau and two large 
 trunks were forced and broken open. In the inner 
 room, the disorder was even greater. It seemed as 
 though some furious hand had taken a fiendish pleasure 
 in creating frightful disorder. 
 
 In the inner room, near the chimney, was found ex- 
 tended upon the hearth the dead body of the Widow 
 Lerouge. She was lying with her face in the ashes. One 
 side of the face and a portion of the hair were burnt ; 
 it appeared a miracle that the fire had not caught her 
 clothing. 
 
 " Wretches ! " exclaimed the brigadier. " Could they 
 not have robbed, without assassinating the poor 
 woman ? " 
 
 " But where has she been wounded ? " inquired the 
 commissary. " I do not see any blood." 
 
 " Hold ! here between the shoulders," replied the 
 brigadier ; " two fierce blows, by my faith. I'll wager 
 my stripes she had no time to cry out." 
 
 He stooped over the corpse and touched it. 
 
 " She is cold," he continued, " and completely rigid. 
 It is at least thirty-six hours since she received her 
 death-wound." 
 
 The commissary began writing at the table his sum- 
 mary official report. 
 
 " We are not here to speculate, but to discover the 
 criminal," said he. " Let information be at once con- 
 veyed to the justice of peace, and the mayor at Bougival, 
 and send this letter without delay to the Palace de Jus- 
 tice in Paris. In less than two hours a judge of inquiry
 
 In the inner room, near the chimney, was found extended upon the 
 hearth the dead body of the Widow Lerouge.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 5 
 
 can be here. In the meanwhile I will proceed to a pro- 
 visional inquest." 
 
 " Shall I carry the letter? " asked the brigadier. 
 
 " No, send one of your men ; you will be useful to 
 me here in keeping away intruders, and finding the wit- 
 nesses I shall require. It is advisable to leave every 
 thing in this chamber as we have found it. I shall in- 
 stall myself in the other." 
 
 A gendarme departed at a run towards the station at 
 Rueil ; and the commissary commenced his investiga- 
 tions in regular form, as prescribed by law. 
 
 "Who was this Widow Lerouge? Where did she 
 come from ? How was she employed ? Upon what means 
 did she live? What were her habits, her manners, her 
 companionships? Was she known to have enemies? 
 Was she a miser ? Did she pass for being rich ? " 
 
 All this it was important to the commissary to ascer- 
 tain. 
 
 But, although the witnesses were numerous enough, 
 they possessed but little information. The depositions 
 of the neighbors, successively interrogated, were empty, 
 incoherent, and incomplete. No one knew any thing 
 of the victim. She was a stranger in the country. Many 
 presented themselves as witnesses, moreover, who came 
 forward less to afford information than to seek the grat- 
 ification of their curiosity. A gardener who had been 
 an acquaintance of the deceased, and a young girl 
 who supplied her with milk, were the only persons capa- 
 ble of giving any precise evidence ; and that was insig- 
 nificant enough. 
 
 In a word, after three hours of laborious investiga- 
 tion, after having undergone the infliction of all the 
 gossip of the country, after receiving evidence the most
 
 6 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 contradictory, and listened to commentaries the most 
 ridiculous the following is all that appeared any way 
 near certainty to the bewildered commissary. 
 
 Twelve years before, at the beginning of 1850, the 
 woman Lerouge had made her appearance at Bougival, 
 with a large wagon piled with furniture, linen, and her 
 personal effects. She had stopped at an inn, declared her 
 intention of settling in the neighborhood, and immedi- 
 diately went in quest of a house. Finding this one un- 
 occupied, and liking it, she had taken it, without trying 
 to beat down the terms ; paid in advance three hundred 
 and twenty francs for the first six months, but refused 
 to sign a lease. 
 
 The house taken, she installed herself the same day, 
 and expended about a hundred francs on repairs. 
 
 She was a woman about fifty- four or fifty-five yeais 
 of age, well preserved, active, and in the enjoyment of 
 excellent health. No one knew her reasons for taking 
 up her abode in a country where she was an absolute 
 stranger. She was supposed to have come from Nor- 
 mandy, having been at times seen to wear the high white 
 muslin head-dress of that country. This night bonnet, 
 as the neighbors called it, did not prevent her from 
 wearing very coquettish costumes during the day; in- 
 deed, she wore ordinarily very handsome dresses, very 
 showy ribbons on her bonnets, and covered herself w r ith 
 as many jewels as a gipsy. Without doubt she had lived 
 near the sea, for sailors and seafaring topics recurred 
 incessantly in her conversation. 
 
 Her husband she said was dead, having been lost at 
 sea; but, as she never entered into particulars on this 
 subject, the impression was that she disliked speaking 
 of him. 
 
 On one particular occasion she had remarked in
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 7 
 
 presence of the milkmaid and three other persons, " No 
 woman was ever more miserable than I during my mar- 
 ried life." And at another, " All new, all fine ! A new 
 broom sweeps clean. My sea-monster of a husband 
 loved me for only a year ! " 
 
 The Widow Lerouge passed for rich, or at the least 
 for being very well off ; and she was not a miser. She 
 had given a woman at Malmaison sixty francs to pay 
 her rent, and at another time advanced two hundred 
 francs to a fisherman of Port Marly. She was fond of 
 good living, spent a good deal of money on her table, 
 and bought wine in large quantities. She took pleasure 
 in treating her acquaintances, and her dinners were ex- 
 cellent. If complimented on her easy circumstances, she 
 made no very strong denial. She had frequently been 
 heard to say, " I have neither lands nor houses : but I 
 have every thing I want ; and, if I wished for any thing 
 more, I could have it." 
 
 Beyond this, the slightest allusion to her past life, her 
 country, or her family had never escaped her, although 
 she was talkative, and at times very boastful. She was 
 supposed, however, to have seen the world, and to know 
 a great deal. She never went out in the evenings, but 
 barricaded herself in her cottage as in a fortress. It 
 was well known that she got tipsy regularly after din- 
 ner and went to bed very soon afterwards. Rarely had 
 strangers been seen to visit her, two or three times 
 a lady and a young man, and upon one occasion two 
 gentlemen, one old and decorated, the other young and 
 of a distinguished appearance; these latter came in a 
 magnificent carriage. 
 
 In conclusion, the deceased was held in little esteem 
 by her neighbors. Her conversation was often singular, 
 and odious in the mouth of a woman of her age. She
 
 8 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 had been heard to give a young girl the most detestable 
 counsels. A pork butcher, embarrassed in his business, 
 tempted by her supposed wealth, had at one time paid 
 her his addresses. She declined his advances, declaring 
 that to be married once was enough for her. At several 
 times two men had been seen in her house, the first of 
 whom was young and looked like a laborer who worked 
 upon the railway; the other was a big man, rather 
 elderly, with huge brown whiskers and dressed in a 
 blouse, who appeared very fierce and even dangerous. 
 These men were suspected to be her lovers. 
 
 Having interrogated all his witnesses, the commis- 
 sary proceeded to write out their depositions. As he 
 finished the last page, the judge of inquiry arrived upon 
 the scene, attended by the chief of the detective police, 
 and one of his agents. 
 
 M. Daburon was a man thirty-eight years of age, well 
 made, and of very prepossessing appearance; sympa- 
 thetic notwithstanding his coldness; wearing upon his 
 handsome countenance a calm and sweet expression, al- 
 though tinged with sadness. This settled melancholy 
 had remained with him ever since his recovery, two 
 years before, from a dreadful malady, which had weH 
 nigh proved fatal. 
 
 Judge of inquiry since 1859, ne had rapidly acquired 
 the most brilliant reputation. Laborious, patient, and 
 acute, he knew with singular skill how to disentangle 
 the skein of the most complicated affair, and from the 
 midst of a thousand threads lay hold of the right one. 
 None better than he could solve those terrible problems 
 where the sign x in algebra, the unknown quantity 
 represents the criminal. Armed with an irresistible 
 logic, he deduced the unknown from the known, and ex- 
 celled in collecting and uniting in a bundle of over-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 9 
 
 whelming proof facts to others unimportant and cir- 
 cumstances in appearance the most insignificant. 
 
 Although possessed of qualifications for his office so 
 numerous and valuable, he was tremblingly distrustful 
 of his own abilities, and exercised his terrible functions 
 with diffidence and hesitation. He wanted audacity to 
 risk those coups de theatre, so often resorted to by his 
 contemporaries in the pursuit of truth. 
 
 Thus it was repugnant to his feelings to deceive even 
 an accused person, or lay snares for him; in fact the 
 mere idea of the possibility of a judicial error terrified 
 him. They said of him in the courts,, " He is a trem- 
 bler." What he sought was not presumption or convic- 
 tion, but the most absolute certainty. No rest for him 
 until the day when the accused was forced to bow before 
 the evidence ; so much so that he had been jestingly re- 
 proached with seeking not to discover criminals but in- 
 nocents. 
 
 The chief of detective police was none other than the 
 celebrated Gevrol, who has so often figured in our previ- 
 ous works. He was really an able man, but wanting in 
 perseverance, and liable to be blinded by an incredible 
 obstinacy. If he lost a clew, he could not bring himself 
 to acknowledge it, still less to retrace his steps. His 
 audacity and coolness, however, rendered it difficult to 
 disconcert him ; and being at once courageous, and pos- 
 sessed of immense personal strength, he never hesitated 
 to confront the most daring of malefactors. 
 
 But his specialty, his triumph, his glory, was his 
 memory of faces, so prodigious as to exceed belief. Did 
 he see a face for five minutes, it was enough. Its pos- 
 sessor was catalogued, and, no matter how long the in- 
 terval, recognized on reappearance. The impossibilities 
 of place, the unlikelihood of circumstances, the most in-
 
 io THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 credible disguises, could not lead him astray. What he 
 remembered, he said, was the peculiarities of the shape, 
 size, color, and expression of the eyes, at which alone he 
 looked, without noticing any .other features. 
 
 This faculty was severely tested before he had been a 
 week at Poissy, by the following experiment. Three 
 prisoners were draped in coverings completely disguis- 
 ing their figures. Over their faces were veils, allowing 
 nothing of the features to be seen except the eyes ; and 
 in this state they were shown to Gevrol. 
 
 Without the slightest hesitation he recognized the 
 prisoners and named them. 
 
 Had chance alone assisted him ? 
 
 The aid-de-camp who attended Gevrol was an old of- 
 fender, reconciled to the law, a jolly fellow, cunning, 
 quick, and useful in his way, but secretly jealous of his 
 chief, whose abilities he held in light estimation. He 
 was named Lecoq. 
 
 The commissary, by this time heartily tired of his re-, 
 sponsibilities, welcomed the judge of inquiry and his 
 agents as liberators. He related rapidly the facts col- 
 lected in his official report. 
 
 " You have proceeded well, monsieur," said the judge. 
 " All is stated clearly ; yet there is one fact you have 
 omitted to ascertain." 
 
 " What is that, monsieur ? " inquired the commis- 
 sary. 
 
 " On what day was the Widow Lerouge last seen, 
 and at what hour ? " 
 
 " I am coming to that, monsieur. She was seen and 
 spoken to on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, at twenty 
 minutes after five. She was then returning from Bougi- 
 val with a pannier of provisions." 
 
 " You are sure of the hour ? " inquired Gevrol.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE n 
 
 " Perfectly, and for this reason : two witnesses, the 
 woman Tellier and a copper who lives hard by, alighted 
 from the omnibus which leaves Marly every hour, when 
 they perceived the widow in the cross-road, and 
 hastened to overtake her. They conversed with her until 
 they separated at the door of her own house." 
 
 " And what had she in her pannier ? " demanded the 
 judge of inquiry. 
 
 The witnesses were ignorant. They knew only that 
 she carried two bottles of wine sealed, and another of 
 brandy. She complained to them of headache, and said, 
 " While you are going to enjoy yourselves, according to 
 custom on Shrove Tuesday, I am going to bed." 
 
 " So, so ! " exclaimed the chief of police. " I know 
 where it is necessary to search ! " 
 
 " You think so? " inquired M. Daburon. 
 
 " Parbleu ! it is clear enough. We want to find the 
 large brown man, the gallant in the blouse. The brandy 
 and the wine were intended for his entertainment. The 
 widow expected him to supper. He came, sure enough, 
 the amiable gallant ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the brigadier, evidently scandalized, 
 " she was very old, and terribly ugly ! " 
 
 Gevrol regarded the honest gendarme with an ex- 
 pression of contemptuous pity. 
 
 " Know, brigadier," said he, " that a woman who has 
 money is always young and pretty, if she desires to be 
 thought so ! " 
 
 " Perhaps there is something in that," replied the 
 judge. " It did not occur to me. I am more impressed 
 by the remark of this unfortunate woman, ' If I wished 
 for any thing more, I could have it.' " 
 
 " That also attracted my attention," acquiesced the 
 commissary.
 
 12 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Gevrol did not take the trouble to listen. He held to 
 his own opinion, and began to inspect minutely every 
 nook and corner of the room. Suddenly he turned 
 towards the commissary. 
 
 " Now that I think of it," cried he, " was it not on 
 Tuesday that the weather changed ? It had been dry for 
 a fortnight, and on that evening it rained. At what hour 
 did the rain commence here ? " 
 
 " At half-past nine," answered the brigadier. " I went 
 out from supper to make my circuit of the dancing halls, 
 when I was overtaken by a heavy shower opposite to the 
 Rue Pecheurs. In less than ten minutes there was half 
 an inch of water on the pavement." 
 
 " Very well," said Gevrol. " Then if the man came 
 after half-past nine his shoes must have been muddy. 
 If dry, he arrived sooner. This ought to have been as- 
 certained before the floor was disturbed. Were there 
 any imprints of footsteps, M. le commissary? " 
 
 " I must confess we never thought of looking for 
 them." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed the chief of police, in a tone of 
 irritation, " that is vexatious ! " 
 
 " Wait," replied the commissary, " there is yet time 
 to see if there are any, not in this room, but in the 
 other. We have there deranged absolutely nothing. My 
 footsteps and those of the brigadier may be easily dis- 
 tinguished. Let us see." 
 
 As the commissary opened the door of the second 
 chamber, Gevrol stopped him. 
 
 " I demand permission, M. the judge," said he, " to 
 examine the apartment before any one else is permitted 
 to enter." 
 
 " Certainly," acquiesced Daburon. 
 
 Gevrol passed into the room, the others remaining
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 13 
 
 on the threshold. He took in at a glance the scene of 
 the crime. 
 
 Every thing, as the commissary had stated, seemed to 
 have been overturned by some furious madman. 
 
 In the middle of the chamber stood a table laid for 
 one person, and covered with a fine linen table cloth, 
 white as snow. Upon this was placed a magnificent 
 wine-glass of the rarest manufacture, a very handsome 
 knife, and a plate of the finest porcelain. There was an 
 opened bottle of wine, hardly touched, and another of 
 brandy, from which about five or six petit s verres had 
 been taken. 
 
 At the right, along the wall, stood two handsome cup- 
 boards of walnut, with ornamental locks and hinges of 
 brass, one each side of the window ; both were empty, 
 and the contents scattered on all sides. There were 
 clothing, linen, and other effects unfolded, tossed about, 
 or smashed to pieces. 
 
 At the back, near the chimney, a small closet in the 
 wall for holding the plate was torn open. At the other 
 side of the chimney, an old secretary with a marble top 
 had been smashed into fragments, and rummaged to its 
 inmost recesses. The desk, wrenched away, hung by a 
 single hinge. The drawers were pulled out and emptied 
 upon the floor. 
 
 At the left of the room the bed had been completely 
 disarranged and overturned, the bed-ticking cut, and 
 the straw with which it was filled thrown out. 
 
 " Not the slightest imprint," murmured Gevrol, dis- 
 appointed. " He must have arrived before half-past 
 nine. You can all come in now." 
 
 He walked right to the corpse of the widow, near 
 which he knelt. 
 
 " It cannot be said," grumbled he, " that the work
 
 14 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 is not properly done! the assassin was no appren- 
 tice!" 
 
 Then looking right and left, 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! " continued he, " the poor devil was busy 
 with her cooking when he struck her; see her pan of 
 ham and eggs upon the hearth. The brute hadn't pa- 
 tience to wait for his dinner. He struck the blow fast- 
 ing; therefore he can't invoke the gaiety of dessert in 
 his defence ! " 
 
 " It is evident," said the commissary, " that robbery 
 was the motive of this crime." 
 
 " It is probable," answered Gevrol in a sharp tone ; 
 " and that accounts for the absence of silver on the ta- 
 ble." 
 
 " Hold ! Some pieces of gold in this drawer ! " ex- 
 claimed Lecoq, who had been searching on his own ac- 
 count, " about three hundred and twenty franco! " 
 
 " What ! " cried Gevrol, a little disconcerted. 
 
 But he recovered from his embarrassment quickly, 
 and continued, 
 
 " He must have forgotten them ; that often happens. 
 I have more than once known an assassin, having ac- 
 complished the murder, so utterly bewildered as to de- 
 part without remembering the plunder, for which he 
 had committed the crime. Our man became excited 
 perhaps, or perhaps may have been interrupted. Some 
 one may have knocked at the door. What makes me 
 more willing to think so is, that the' scamp did not leave 
 the candle burning. You see he took the trouble to ex- 
 tinguish it." 
 
 " Bast! " said Lecoq. " That proves nothing. He is 
 probably an economical and careful man." 
 
 The investigations of the two agents were continued 
 all through the house ; but their most minute researches
 
 THE WILXJW LEROUGE 15 
 
 resulted in discovering absolutely nothing ; not one piece 
 of evidence to convict; not the most feeble indication 
 _ which might serve as a point of departure. Even the 
 dead woman's papers, if she possessed any, had disap- 
 peared. Not a letter, not a scrap of paper even, to be 
 met with. 
 
 From time to time Gevrol stopped to swear or grum- 
 ble. 
 
 " Oh ! it is a clever piece of work ! See what care the 
 scoundrel takes of number one ! He is a clever hand ! " 
 
 "What conclusion' do you come to, monsieur?" at 
 length demanded the judge of inquiry. 
 
 " It is a drawn game, M. the judge," replied Gevrol. 
 " We are baffled for the present. The miscreant has 
 taken his measures with great precaution; but, before 
 night, I shall have a dozen men in pursuit. He shall 
 not escape us long. He has carried off some table silver 
 and some jewels. He is lost! " 
 
 " With all that," remarked M. Daburon, " we are no 
 further advanced than we were this morning." 
 
 " Sapristi ! " growled Gevrol. "A man can do only 
 what he can ! " 
 
 " Confound it ! " said Lecoq in a low tone, perfectly 
 audible, however, " why is not Pere Tirauclair here ? " 
 
 " What could he do more than we have done ? " re- 
 torted Gevrol, directing a furious glance at his subor- 
 dinate. 
 
 Lecoq stooped his head and was silent, inwardly de' 
 lighted at having wounded his chief. 
 
 "Who and what is this Pere Tirauclair?" de- 
 manded the judge. " It seems to me that I have heard 
 the name, but can't think where." 
 
 " He is an extraordinary man ! " exclaimed Lecoq. 
 
 " He was formerly a pawnbroker's clerk," added
 
 16 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Gevrol ; " but he is now a rich old fellow. His real name 
 is Tabaret ; and he has taken to the business of police, 
 as others do to painting or music, for amusement." 
 
 " And to augment his revenues ? " asked the com- 
 missary. 
 
 " He ? " replied Lecoq. " No danger of that. He 
 works so much for the glory of success that he often 
 spends money from his own pocket. It is great amuse- 
 ment for him though ! In the service we have nick- 
 named him ' Tirauclair,* because of a phrase he is in 
 the habit of repeating. Ah ! he is smart, the old weasel ! 
 It was he who in the case of the banker's wife, you re- 
 member, discovered the truth, that the lady was herself 
 the robber." 
 
 " True ! " retorted Gevrol ; " and it was he who had 
 poor Dereme beheaded for killing his wife ; and all the 
 while the poor man was innocent." 
 
 " We lose our time, monsieurs," interrupted the judge 
 of inquiry. And, addressing himself to Lecoq, he 
 said, 
 
 " Go and find Pere Tabaret. I have a great desire 
 to speak to him, and shall be glad to see him at work 
 here." 
 
 Lecoq started at a run. Gevrol was seriously humili- 
 ated. 
 
 " You have the right to demand the services of whom 
 you please," said he in a tone of suppressed passion ; 
 " but I might " 
 
 " Do not annoy yourself, M. Gevrol. I have great 
 confidence in your ability. But to-day we happen to 
 differ in opinion. You hold absolutely to your brown 
 man in the blouse, and I am convinced he is not the 
 criminal at all ! " 
 
 " I believe that I am right," replied the chief, " and
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 17 
 
 I hope to prove it ; but I shall find the scoundrel, be he 
 whom he may ! " 
 
 " I ask nothing better," said M. Daburon. 
 
 " Only if you will permit me to give what shall I 
 say without failing in respect? a piece of advice?" 
 
 "Speak!" 
 
 " I would advise you to distrust Pere Tabaret." 
 
 " Truly ? And for what reason ? " 
 
 " The old fellow is too passionate ; he owes his suc- 
 cess in the police to nothing more or less than his in- 
 vention. And, as he is vainer than a peacock, he is apt 
 to overdo matters in order to make a sensation. When 
 in the presence of a crime like this of to-day, for ex- 
 ample, he pretends to be able to explain every thing on 
 the instant. And he will in fact invent a history that will 
 be en rapport exactly with the situation. He will pre- 
 tend, unassisted, to reconstruct all the scenes of an as- 
 sassination, as a savant who from a single bone recon- 
 structs an antediluvian animal. Sometimes, as in the 
 case of the banker's wife, he divines correctly; but at 
 other times he is far out of the way, as in the case of the 
 tailor, the unfortunate Dereme." 
 
 " I thank you for your advice," said M. Daburon, 
 " and will endeavor to profit by it. Now, M. le commis- 
 sary," continued he, " it is most important to ascertain, 
 if possible, from what part of the country came the 
 Widow Lerouge." 
 
 The procession of witnesses marshalled by the briga- 
 dier commenced to pass before the judge of inquiry. 
 
 But nothing new was elicited. It was evident that the 
 Widow Leronge had been during her lifetime a singu- 
 larly discreet woman ; for, although talkative, nothing 
 in any way connected with her antecedents remained in 
 the memory of the gossips of Jonchere.
 
 18 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 All the people interrogated tried obstinately to impart 
 to the judge their own convictions and personal con- 
 jectures. Public opinion sided with Gevrol. With one 
 voice, the assembly denounced the big brown man of the 
 grey blouse. He must surely be the culprit. Every one 
 remembered his ferocious aspect, and how, struck by 
 his suspicious appearance, they had wisely avoided him. 
 He had one evening menaced a woman, and another day 
 beaten a child. They could point out neither the child 
 nor the woman ; but no matter : these brutal acts were 
 notoriously public. 
 
 M. Daburon began to despair of gaining the least en- 
 lightenment, when some one brought a grocer of Bougi- 
 val, at whose shop the victim used to purchase her pro- 
 visions, and a child thirteen years old, who knew, it was 
 said, something positive. 
 
 The grocer first made her appearance. 
 
 She had heard the Widow Lerouge speak of having a 
 son yet living. 
 
 " Are you quite sure of this? " demanded the judge. 
 
 " As of my existence," answered the grocer. " One 
 evening, yes, it was evening, she was, saving your 
 presence, a little tipsy, she remained in my store more 
 than an hour." 
 
 " And she said, " 
 
 " I think I see her now," continued the grocer ; " she 
 was leaning against the counter near the scales. She 
 was jesting with a fisherman of Marly, Father Husson. 
 who can tell you the same ; and she called him a fresh 
 water sailor. ' My husband/ said she, ' would some- 
 times remain a couple of years on a voyage, and used to 
 bring me back cocoanuts. I have a boy who is also a 
 sailor, like his dead father, a sailor in the navy.' " 
 
 " Did she mention her son's name? "
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 19 
 
 " Not that evening ; but another evening, when she 
 was, if I must say it, drunk, she told us that her son 
 was called Jacques, and she had not seen him for a very 
 long time." 
 
 " Did she speak ill of her husband ? " 
 
 " Never ! she only said he was jealous and brutal, 
 and used to beat her unmercifully; but he was a good 
 man at bottom, and made her life miserable. He had a 
 weak head, and forged ideas out of nothing. In fact, 
 he was a very stupid brute, but a very good, kind 
 man." 
 
 " Did her son ever come to see her while she lived 
 here?" 
 
 " She never told me of it." 
 
 " Did she spend much money with you ? " 
 
 " As it might happen. About sixty francs a month ; 
 sometimes more, when she bought some old brandy. She 
 was good pay, poor woman ! " 
 
 The grocer, knowing no more, was dismissed. 
 
 The child, who was now brought forward, belonged 
 to parents in easy circumstances. Tall and strong for 
 his age, he had bright intelligent eyes, and features ex- 
 pressive of watchfulness and cunning. The presence of 
 the judge did not intimidate him. 
 
 " Let us hear, my boy," said the judge, " what you 
 know." 
 
 " Monsieur, a few days ago, Sunday last, I saw a 
 man at Madame Lerouge's garden-gate." 
 
 " At what time of the day ? " 
 
 " In the morning. I was going to church, to serve 
 the second mass." 
 
 " Well," continued the judge, " and this was a big 
 brown man, dressed in a blouse ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur : he was short, very fat, and old."
 
 20 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " You are sure you are not mistaken ? " 
 
 " Certain, monsieur," replied the urchin, " I saw him 
 close, face to face ; I spoke to him." 
 
 " Tell me, then, what occurred ? " 
 
 " Well, monsieur, I was passing, when I saw this fat 
 man at the gate. He appeared very much vexed, oh ! 
 vexed awfully ! His face was red, or rather purple, 
 as far as the middle of his head, which I could see 
 very well; for it was bare, and had very little hair on 
 it." 
 
 " And did he speak to you first ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, he saw me, and called out, ' Halloa ! 
 little fellow ! ' I went up to him ; and he asked me if I 
 had got a good pair of legs ? I answered, yes. Then he 
 took me by the ear, but without hurting me, and said, 
 ' Since that is so, if you will run an errand for me, I will 
 give you ten sous. Run as far as the Seine ; and, when 
 you reach the quay, you will see a large sloop moored. 
 Go on board, and ask to see the captain, Gervaise: he 
 will be there. Tell him that he can slip his cable, that 
 I am ready.' Then he put ten sous in my hand ; and I 
 went." 
 
 " If all the witnesses were like this bright little fel- 
 low," murmured the commissary, " what a pleasure it 
 would be ! " 
 
 " Now," said the judge, " tell us how you executed 
 your commission ? " 
 
 " I went to the sloop, monsieur, and found the man, 
 and I told him ; and that's all." 
 
 Gevrol, who had listened with the most lively atten- 
 tion, leaned over towards the ear of M. Daburon. 
 
 " M. le judge," said he in a low voice, " will you per- 
 mit me to ask the boy a few questions? " 
 
 " Certainly, M. Gevrol."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 21 
 
 " Tell us, my little friend," asked Gevrol, " if you saw 
 this man again, would you know him ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" 
 
 " Then there was something remarkable about him ? " 
 
 " Yes, I should think so ! his face was like a brick- 
 bat ! " 
 
 "And is that all?" 
 
 " Well, yes, monsieur." 
 
 " Can you remember how he was dressed ? had he a 
 blouse?" 
 
 " No : it was a vest. Under the arms it had large 
 pockets ; and from one of them peeped out the half of a 
 blue spotted pocket handkerchief." 
 
 " How were his pantaloons ? " 
 
 " I do not remember them." 
 
 " And his under vest ? " 
 
 " Let me see," answered the child. " I don't think 
 he wore an undervest. And yet, but no, I remember 
 he did not wear one : he had a long cravat, fastened near 
 his neck by a large ring." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Gevrol with an air of satisfaction, " you 
 are a bright boy ; and I wager that, if you try hard to 
 remember, you can find more particulars than those 
 you have given us." 
 
 The boy dropped his head, and remained silent. From 
 the knitting of his young brows, it was plain he was 
 making a violent effort of memory. " Yes," cried he 
 suddenly, " I remember another thing." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " The man wore very large rings in his ears." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Gevrol, " here is an identification 
 complete. I shall find this gentleman with the ear-rings 
 again. M. the judge may prepare a warrant for his ar- 
 rest."
 
 22 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " I believe, indeed, the testimony of this child is o{ 
 the highest importance," replied M. Daburon; and he 
 turned to the boy. 
 
 " Can you tell us, my little friend, with what this 
 sloop was loaded?" demanded M. Daburon. 
 
 " No, monsieur, I couldn't see, because it was 
 decked." 
 
 " Which way was she going, up the river or down ? " 
 
 " Neither, monsieur ; she was moored." 
 
 " Now think well," said Gevrol. " The judge asks 
 you which way the bow of the sloop was turned, 
 towards Paris or towards Marly ? " 
 
 " The two ends of a sloop are alike to me." 
 
 The chief of police made a gesture of disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 " At least," said he, addressing the child again, " you 
 noticed the name of the sloop ? You can read I suppose ; 
 you must surely have seen the name of the vessel you 
 went aboard of ? " 
 
 " No, I didn't see any name," said the little boy. 
 
 "If this sloop was moored a few steps from the 
 quay," remarked M. Daburon, " it was probably noticed 
 by the inhabitants of Bougival." 
 
 " That is true," approved the commissary. 
 
 " Besides," said Gevrol, " the sailors must have come 
 ashore. I shall find out all about it at the wine shop. But 
 this Capt. Gervaise, my little friend, what was he like?" 
 
 " Like all the sailors hereabouts, monsieur." 
 
 The child was preparing to depart, when the judge 
 recalled him. 
 
 " Before you depart, my child, tell me, have you 
 spoken to any one of this meeting before to-day? " 
 
 " I told all to mamma, when I got back from church, 
 and gave her the ten sous."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 23 
 
 " And you have told us all the truth ? " continued 
 the judge. " You know that it is a grave matter to at- 
 tempt to impose on justice, she always discovers the 
 truth; and it is my duty to warn you that she inflicts 
 the most terrible punishment upon liars." 
 
 The little fellow blushed, and dropped his eyes. 
 
 " I see," pursued Daburon, " that you have con- 
 cealed something from us. Don't you know that the po- 
 lice are not to be trifled with ? " 
 
 " Pardon, monsieur," cried the boy, bursting into 
 tears, " pardon. Don't punish me, and I will never 
 do so again." 
 
 " Tell us, then, how you have deceived us ? " 
 
 " It was not ten sous, monsieur, that the man gave 
 me, it was twenty sous. I only gave half to mamma; 
 and I kept the rest to buy marbles with." 
 
 " My little friend," interrupted the judge, " for this 
 time I forgive you. But let it be a lesson for the re- 
 mainder of your life. Remember it is vain to hide the 
 truth ; it always comes to light ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE two last depositions awakened in Daburon's 
 mind some slight gleams of hope. In the midst of dark- 
 ness, the humblest rush-light acquires brillancy. 
 
 " I will go at once to Bougival, if you approve," sug- 
 gested Gevrol. 
 
 " Perhaps it would be as well to wait a little," an- 
 swered Daburon. " This man was seen on Sunday 
 morning: we might inquire into the Widow Lerouge's 
 movements on that day."
 
 24 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Three neighbors were called. They all declared that 
 the widow had kept her bed all Sunday. To one woman 
 who had visited her, hearing that she was sick, she 
 said, " Ah ! I have had this day a terrible adventure." 
 Nobody at the time attached any importance to these 
 words. 
 
 " The man with the rings in his ears becomes more 
 and more important," said the judge, when the women 
 had retired. " To find him again is indispensable : this 
 you will take care of, M. Gevrol." 
 
 " Before eight days, I shall have him," replied the 
 chief of police, " if I have to search every vessel on the 
 Seine, from its source to the ocean. I know the name of 
 the captain, Gervaise. The bureau of navigation may 
 tell me the rest." 
 
 He was interrupted by Lecoq, who rushed into the 
 house breathless. 
 
 " Here is Pere Tabaret/' said he. " I met him setting 
 out. What a man ! He wouldn't wait for the train, but 
 paid I don't know how much for a carriage; and we 
 drove here in fifty minutes ! " 
 
 Almost immediately an old man appeared at the door, 
 whose aspect bore little resemblance to the ideal por- 
 traits of the secret agent of police. 
 
 His round face wore an expression of perpetual as- 
 tonishment, mingled with uneasiness, which would have 
 made the fortunes of a dozen comic actors of the 
 " Palais Royale." Scrupulously shaved, he presented a 
 very short chin, large and good natured lips, and a 
 nose disagreeably elevated, like the broad end of a Saxe 
 horn. His eyes, of a dull grey, were small, bordered by 
 rings of scarlet, and absolutely void of expression ; yet 
 they fatigued the observer by their insupportable rest- 
 lessness. Thin hairs brushed flat upon his head, light as
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 25 
 
 the fur of a rabbit, barely concealed his long ears, which 
 were large, wide, and spreading away from the skull. 
 
 He was comfortably dressed, neat as a new franc 
 piece, displaying linen of dazzling whiteness, and wear- 
 ing silk gloves and leather gaiters. A long and massive 
 chain of gold, of a deplorable taste, was twisted thrice 
 round his neck, and fell in cascades to his vest-pocket. 
 
 Pere Tabaret, surnamed Tirauclair, standing at the 
 threshold, bowed almost to the ground, bending his old 
 back into an arch, and in the humblest of voices de- 
 manded, 
 
 " The judge of inquiry has deigned to send for me." 
 
 " Yes," replied Daburon, adding under his breath ; 
 " and, if you are a man of any ability, there is at least 
 nothing to indicate it in your appearance." 
 
 " I am here," continued the old fellow, " completely 
 at the service of justice." 
 
 " I wish to know," replied the judge, " whether you 
 cannot, with more success than has attended our efforts, 
 discover some indication that may serve to put us upon 
 the track of the author of this atrocious crime. I will 
 explain the " 
 
 " Oh, I know enough of it ! " interrupted Pere 
 Tabaret. " Lecoq has told me as much as I desire to 
 to know." 
 
 " Nevertheless," commenced the commissary, " if you 
 will permit me, I prefer to proceed without receiving 
 any information, in order to be more fully master of my 
 own impression. If you know another's opinion, it 
 can't help influencing your judgment. I will, if you 
 please, at once commence my researches, with Lecoq's 
 assistance." 
 
 As the old fellow spoke, his little grey eyes dilated, 
 and became brilliant as carbuncles. His face reflected an
 
 26 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 internal satisfaction ; even his wrinkles seemed to laugh. 
 His figure became erect, his step almost elastic, as he 
 darted rather than walked into the second chamber. 
 
 He remained there about half an hour ; then came out 
 running, then re-entered and came out again ; again re- 
 entered, and again reappeared almost immediately. The 
 judge could not help comparing him to a pointer on 
 the scent ; restless and active, he ran hither and thither, 
 carrying his nose in the air, as if to discover some subtle 
 odor left by the assassin. All the while he talked loudly 
 and with much gesticulation, apostrophizing himself, 
 scolding himself, uttering little cries of triumph or self- 
 encouragement. He did not allow Lecoq to have a mo- 
 ment's rest. He wanted this or that or the other thing. 
 He demanded paper and a pencil. Then he wanted a 
 spade ; and finally he cried out for plaster of Paris and a 
 bottle of oil. With these he left the cottage. 
 
 When more than an hour had elapsed, the judge of 
 inquiry began to lose patience, and asked what had be- 
 come of the amateur detective. 
 
 " He is on the road," replied the brigadier, " lying 
 flat in the mud. He has mixed the plaster in a plate. 
 He says he is nearly finished, and that he is coming 
 back presently." 
 
 Tabaret entered almost instantly, joyous, triumphant, 
 looking at least twenty years younger. Lecoq followed 
 him, carrying with the utmost precaution a large pan- 
 nier. 
 
 " I have it ! " said he to the judge, " completely. It 
 is as plain as noonday. Lecoq, my lad, put the pannier 
 on the table." 
 
 Gevrol at this moment returned from his expedition 
 equally delighted. 
 
 " I am on the track of the man with the rings in his
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 27 
 
 ears," said he ; " the sloop went down the river. I have 
 obtained an exact description of Capt. Gervaise." 
 
 " What have you done, M. Tabaret? " said the judge 
 of inquiry. 
 
 The old fellow carefully emptied upon the table the 
 contents of the pannier, a huge lump of potter's clay, 
 several large sheets of paper, and three or four small 
 morsels of plaster yet damp. Standing behind this ta- 
 ble, he presented a grotesque resemblance to a mounte- 
 bank conjurer, who in the public squares makes pud- 
 dings in hats, swallows swords, and eats fire. His dress 
 was in a singular state ; he was mud to the chin. 
 
 " In the first place," said he, at last, in a tone of af- 
 fected modesty, " robbery has had nothing to do with 
 the crime that occupies our attention." 
 
 " On the contrary," muttered Gevrol. 
 
 " I shall prove it," continued Pere Tabaret, " by the 
 evidence. By-and-by I shall offer my humble opinion 
 as to the real motive. 
 
 " In the second place, the assassin arrived here before 
 half-past nine; that is to say, before the rain fell. No 
 more than M. Gevrol have I been able to discover traces 
 of muddy footsteps ; but under the table, on the spot 
 where his feet rested, I find dust. We are thus assured 
 of the hour. The widow did not expect her visitor. She 
 had commenced undressing, and was about to wind up 
 her cuckoo clock when he knocked." 
 
 " These are absolute details ! " cried the commissary. 
 
 " But easily established," replied the amateur. " Ex- 
 amine this cuckoo clock; it is one of those which run 
 fourteen or fifteen hours at most. Now it is more than 
 probable, it is certain, that the widow wound it up every 
 evening before going to bed. 
 
 " How, then, should the clock have stopped at nine?
 
 28 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 She must have touched it at that hour. At the moment 
 she was drawing the chain, the assassin knocked. In 
 proof, I show this chair below the clock, and on the seat 
 a very plain mark of a foot. Now look at the dress of 
 the victim. The waist of her gown is taken off. In or- 
 der to open the door more quickly, she did not wait to 
 put it on again, but hastily threw an old shawl over her 
 shoulders." 
 
 " Sapristi ! " exclaimed the brigadier, evidently filled 
 with admiration. 
 
 " The widow," continued the old fellow, " knew the 
 person who knocked. Her haste to open the door gives 
 rise to this conjecture; what follows proves it. The 
 assassin then gained admission without difficulty. He 
 was a young man, a little above the middle height, ele- 
 gantly dressed. He wore on that evening a high hat. He 
 carried an umbrella, and smoked a trabucos with a 
 cigar-holder." 
 
 " Ridiculous ! " cried Gevrol. " This is too strong." 
 
 " Too strong for you perhaps," retorted Pere Tabaret. 
 " At all events, it is the truth. If you have not been 
 minute in your examinations, there is no reason why I 
 shouldn't be. I search, and I find. Too strong, say 
 you? Well, deign to glance at these morsels of damp 
 plaster. They represent the heels of the boots worn by 
 the assassin, of which I found a most perfect impression 
 near the ditch, where the key was picked up. On these 
 sheets of paper, I have marked in outline the imprint of 
 the foot which I cannot take up, because it is in the 
 gravel. 
 
 " Look ! heel high, instep pronounced, sole small and 
 narrow, an elegant boot, belonging to a foot well cared 
 for evidently. Look for this impression all along the
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE -29 
 
 road ; and you will find it twice repeated. Then you will 
 find it five times repeated in the garden ; and these foot- 
 prints prove, by the way, that the stranger knocked not 
 at the door, but at the window-shutter, beneath which 
 shone a gleam of light. Near the entrance of the gar- 
 den, the man made a leap to avoid a square flower-bed ; 
 the point of the foot, more deeply imprinted than usual, 
 shows it. He leaped more than two yards with ease, 
 proving that he is active, and therefore young." 
 
 Pere Tabaret spoke now in a low voice, but clear and 
 penetrating ; and his eye glanced from one to the other 
 of his auditors, watching the impression he was mak- 
 ing. 
 
 " Does the hat astonish you, Gevrol ? " pursued Pere 
 Tabaret. " Just look at this circle traced in the dust on 
 the marble of the secretary. That was where he placed 
 his hat : so we arrive at the shape and size of the crown ; 
 and the height is, at least, presumable. Now the assas- 
 sin put his hands on the top shelf of the cupboard, to 
 get at its contents. If he had been a very tall man, he 
 could have seen them without touching the shelf ; and, 
 if a very short man, he would have stood upon a chair ; 
 consequently he must have been a little above the mid- 
 dle height. You seem troubled about the umbrella and 
 the cigar-holder ; but they are very simple. This lump 
 of earth preserves an admirable impression, not only of 
 the point, but even of the little wooden shield which 
 holds the silk.' Then as for the cigar, here is the end of 
 a Trabucos that I found in the ashes. Is it bitten ? No. 
 Has it been moistened with saliva? No. Then he who 
 smoked it used a cigar-holder." 
 
 Lecoq was unable to conceal his enthusiastic admira- 
 tion, and noiselessly rubbed his hands. The commissary
 
 30 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 appeared stupefied, while the judge was delighted. Gev- 
 rol's face, on the contrary, was sensibly elongated. As 
 for the brigadier, he was overwhelmed. 
 
 " Now," continued the old fellow, " follow me closely. 
 We have traced the young man into the house. How he 
 explained his presence at this hour, I do not know ; this 
 much is certain, he told the widow he had not dined. 
 The honest woman was delighted to hear it, and at once 
 set to work to prepare a meal. This meal was not for 
 herself; for in the cupboard I find the remains of her 
 dinner. She had dined on fish : The autopsy will con- 
 firm the truth of this conjecture. You can see the rest 
 for yourself. There is but one glass on the table, and 
 one knife. Who was this young man? Evidently the 
 widow looked upon him as a man of rank superior to 
 her own; for, in the small plate-closet is a table-cloth 
 suitable enough for her, but not at all good enough 
 for him. For her guest, she brought out one of white 
 linen, and much handsomer. For him she sets this mag- 
 nificent glass a present, no doubt and this knife with 
 the ivory handle." 
 
 " That is all true/' murmured the judge, " very 
 true." 
 
 " Now, then, we have got the young man seated. He 
 began by drinking a glass of wine, while the widow was 
 putting her pan on the fire. Then, his heart failing him, 
 he called for brandy, and swallowed about five petits 
 verres. After an internal struggle of ten minutes (the 
 time it must have taken to cook the ham and eggs to the 
 point they have reached), the young man arose and ap- 
 proached the widow, who was leaning forward over her 
 cooking. He stabbed her twice in the back ; but she was 
 not killed instantly. She half arose, seizing the assassin 
 by the hands ; while he drew back, lifting her rudely,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 31 
 
 and then hurling her down in the position in which you 
 see her. 
 
 " This short struggle is indicated by the posture of 
 the body ; for, wounded in the back, it is on her back she 
 ought naturally to have fallen. The weapon used was 
 sharp and pointed, and, unless I am deceived, was the 
 end of a foil, broken off and sharpened. By wiping the 
 weapon upon his victim's skirt, the assassin leaves us 
 this indication. He was not, however, hurt in the strug- 
 gle, though the victim must have clung with a death- 
 grip to his hands; but, as he has not left his gray 
 gloves," 
 
 " Gloves ! Why, this is romance," exclaimed Gevrol. 
 
 " Have you examined the dead woman's finger-nails, 
 M. Gevrol? No. Well, do so, and then tell me whether 
 I am deceived. 
 
 " The woman, now dead, we come to the object of 
 her assassination. What did this well-dressed young 
 gentleman want ? Money ? valuables ? No ! no ! a hun- 
 dred times, no ! What he wanted, what he sought, and 
 what he found, were papers, documents, letters, which 
 he knew to be in the possession of this unfortunate 
 woman. To find them,, he has overturned every thing, 
 upset the cupboards, unfolded the linen, broken open 
 the secretary, of which he could not find the key, and 
 even emptied the mattress of the bed. 
 
 " At last he found them ; and then what did he do ? 
 Burned them, of course ; not in the chimney, but in the 
 little stove in the front chamber. His end accomplished, 
 what does he then ? He flies, carrying with him all that 
 he finds valuable, to mislead pursuit, and baffle detec- 
 tion, by indicating a robbery. Having bundled them to- 
 gether, he wrapped these valuables in the napkin which 
 was to have served him at dinner ; and, blowing out thf
 
 32 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 candle, he fled, locking the door, and afterwards throw- 
 ing the key into the ditch. 
 
 " That is my idea of the case, M. the judge.'' 
 
 " M. Tabaret," said the judge, " your investigation is 
 admirable ; and I am persuaded your inferences are cor- 
 rect." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Lecoq, " is he not colossal ? Papa 
 Tirauclair ? " 
 
 " Pyramidal ! " cried Gevrol ironically. " I fear, how- 
 ever, your well-dressed young man must have been 
 much embarrassed in carrying a bundle at once so incon- 
 venient and so remarkable." 
 
 " Pie did not carry it a hundred leagues," responded 
 Pere Tabaret. " You may well believe, that, to reach 
 the railway station, he would not risk taking the omni- 
 bus. No, he returned on foot by the shortest way, to 
 the edge of the water. Now, on arriving at the Seine, it 
 will not be too strong, I hope, to suppose his first care 
 was to throw into it this tell-tale bundle." 
 
 " Do you believe so, Papa Tirauclair ? " demanded 
 Gevrol. 
 
 " I will wager on it ; and the best evidence of my be- 
 lief is, that I have sent three men, under the surveillance 
 of a gendarme to drag the Seine at the nearest spot. If 
 they succeed in finding the bundle, I have promised 
 them a recompense." 
 
 " From your own pocket, old enthusiast ? " 
 
 " Yes, M. Gevrol, from my own pocket." 
 
 " If they find this bundle, however, " murmured 
 the judge. 
 
 He was interrupted by the entrance of a gendarme. 
 
 " Here," said he, " here is a soiled table-napkin, 
 filled with plate, silver, and jewels, which these men
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 33 
 
 have found; they claim the hundred francs' reward, 
 promised them." 
 
 Pere Tabaret took from his pocket-book a bank bill, 
 which he handed to the gendarme. 
 
 " Now," demanded he, ignoring M. Gevrol with a 
 superb disdain, " what thinks M. the judge of in- 
 quiry ? " 
 
 " That, thanks to your penetration, we shall come to 
 the point, 
 
 He did not finish. The doctor summoned to make 
 the post mortem examination appeared. 
 
 That unpleasant task accomplished, it only confirmed 
 the assertions and conjectures of Pere Tabaret. The 
 doctor explained as he had the position of the body. In 
 his opinion, there had been a brief but fierce struggle. 
 He pointed out a bluish circle, hardly perceptible, round 
 the neck of the victim produced apparently by the 
 powerful grasp of the murderer; then he declared the 
 Widow Lerouge had dined three hours before being 
 struck. 
 
 Nothing now remained except to collect the frag- 
 ments of evidence received, which might at a later pe- 
 riod confound the culprit. 
 
 Pere Tabaret examined with extreme care the dead 
 woman's fingers ; and, using infinite precaution, he even 
 extracted from beneath the nails several small particles 
 of gray kid. The largest of these fragments was not 
 above two millemetres in length ; but their color was 
 easily distinguishable. He put aside also the part of the 
 dress upon which the assassin had wiped the weapon. 
 These, with the bundle recovered from the Seine, and 
 the cast of the footprints taken by the old fellow, were 
 all the traces the murderer had left behind him.
 
 34 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 It was nothing ; but this nothing was enormous in the 
 eyes of M. Daburon: and he had strong hopes of dis- 
 covering the culprit. The greatest obstacle to success in 
 the unravelling of mysterious crime is in mistaking the 
 motive. If the researches take at the first step a false 
 direction, they are diverted further and further from the 
 truth, in proportion to the length they are followed. 
 Thanks to Pere Tabaret, the judge felt confident that 
 he was in the right path. 
 
 Night had come on. The judge had nothing more to 
 do at Jonchere ; but Gevrol, who still clung to his own 
 opinion of the guilt of the man with the rings in his 
 ears, declared he would remain at Bougival. He deter- 
 mined to employ the evening in visiting the different 
 wine shops, and finding if possible new witnesses. 
 
 At the moment of departure, after the commissary 
 and the entire party had received their congee from M. 
 Daburon, the latter asked Pere Tabaret to accompany 
 him. 
 
 " I was about to solicit that honor," replied the old 
 fellow. They set out together; and naturally the crime 
 which had been discovered, and with which they were 
 mutually preoccupied, formed the subject of their con- 
 versation. 
 
 " Can we, or can we not, ascertain the antecedents of 
 this woman ? " repeated Pere Tabaret. " All depends 
 upon that, after all ! " 
 
 " We shall ascertain them, if the grocer has told the 
 truth," replied M. Daburon. " If the Widow Lerouge 
 has had a husband a sailor, and there is now a son of 
 hers named Jacques in the navy, the minister of marine 
 can furnish information that will lead to its discovery. 
 I will write to the minister this very night."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 35 
 
 They arrived at the station at Rueil, and took their 
 places in the train. They were so fortunate as to secure 
 a compartment to themselves. 
 
 But Pere Tabaret was not disposed for conversation. 
 He reflected, he sought, he combined; and in his face 
 might easily be read the working of his thoughts. The 
 judge felt singularly attracted by this eccentric old man, 
 whose very original taste had led him to devote his ser- 
 vices to the bureau of secret police in the Rue Jerusa- 
 lem. 
 
 " M. Tabaret," demanded he brusquely, " have you 
 been long associated with the police ? " 
 
 " Nine years, M. the judge, more than nine years; 
 and permit me to confess I am a little surprised that 
 you have never before heard of me." 
 
 " I certainly know you by reputation," answered M. 
 Daburon ; " and it was in consequence of hearing of 
 your talent that the excellent idea of asking your assist- 
 ance occurred to me. But what was the occasion of 
 your adopting this employment?" 
 
 " Chagrin, M. the judge, isolation, ennui. Ah ! I 
 have not always been happy ! " 
 
 " I hear, though, that you are rich." 
 
 The old fellow heaved a deep sigh, as he recalled what 
 seemed to him the crudest deception. " I am well off, 
 monsieur," replied he ; " but I have not always been. 
 Until I was forty-five years old, my life was a series 
 of absurd and useless privations. I had a father who 
 ruined my youth, wasted my manhood, and made me 
 the most pitiable of human creatures." 
 
 There are men who can never divest themselves of 
 their professional habits. M. Daburon was at all times 
 and seasons a little of a judge of inquiry.
 
 36 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " How, M. Tabaret," said he, " your father the au- 
 thor of your misfortunes ? " 
 
 " Alas, yes, monsieur ! I have forgiven him long 
 since ; but once I cursed him. In the first transports of 
 my resentment, I heaped upon his memory all the in- 
 juries that can be inspired by the most violent hatred. 
 Even now, when I think, but I will confide to you my 
 history M. Daburon. 
 
 " When I was five and twenty years of age, I was 
 earning two thousand francs a year, as clerk in a pawn- 
 broker's. One morning my father entered my apart- 
 ment, and announced to me abruptly that he was ruined, 
 and wanted food and shelter. He appeared in despair, 
 and declared he had done with life. I loved my father. 
 Naturally, I strove to reassure him. I boasted of my 
 situation, and explained to him at some length, that, 
 while I earned the means of living, he should want for 
 nothing; and, to commence, I insisted that henceforth 
 we should live together. No sooner said than done ; 
 and during twenty years, the best twenty years of my 
 life, I was encumbered with the old " 
 
 " How ? you repent of your filial conduct, M. Ta- 
 baret ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do repent of it ; that is to say, I wish the old 
 wretch had received his deserts ; for then he would have 
 been poisoned by the bread which I gave him." 
 
 Daburon was unable to repress a gesture of surprise, 
 which did not escape the old fellow's notice. 
 
 " Hear, before you condemn me," said he. " There 
 I was at twenty-five, imposing upon myself the severest 
 privations for sake of my father, no more friends, 
 no more flirtations, nothing. In the evenings, to aug- 
 ment our scanty revenues, I worked at copying law 
 papers for a notary. I denied myself even the luxury
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 37 
 
 of a cigar. Notwithstanding, the old skinflint com- 
 plained without ceasing. He regretted his lost fortune. 
 He wanted pocket-money. He wanted this, he wanted 
 that. My utmost exertions failed to satisfy him. Ah, 
 heaven alone knows what I have suffered ! I was not 
 born to live alone to old age, like a dog. I longed for the 
 pleasures of a home and a family. My dream of hap- 
 piness was marriage, an adored wife, by whom I might 
 be loved a little, innocent little ones gambolling about 
 my knees ; but pshaw ! when such thoughts entered my 
 heart and forced a tear or two from my eyes, I rebelled 
 against myself. I said : ' My lad, when you earn but 
 three thousand francs a year, and have an old and cher- 
 ished father to support, it is your duty to stifle such de- 
 sires, and remain a bachelor.' In the mean time, I fell 
 in love. Hold, do not laugh at me. I was but thirty 
 years of age then; and, old and ugly as I am now, I 
 was a good looking fellow at that time. She, she was 
 called Hortense. I could not marry her and continue to 
 provide for him. Who can tell what became of her? 
 I lost sight of her. She waited long ; but, alas ! she 
 was pretty and poor. When my father died, and left me 
 free, I was an old man. The miserable, miserly old, " 
 
 " M. Tabaret ! " interrupted the judge, " M. Tab- 
 aret!" 
 
 " Yes, yes, monsieur, I have forgiven him long ago, 
 I am a good Christian ; but you will understand my an- 
 ger when I tell you, the day of his death, looking in his 
 secretary in the hope of finding enough to bury the old 
 hypocrite, I found a memorandum of twenty thousand 
 francs of rent ! " 
 
 " He was rich, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, very rich ; for that was not all : he owned near 
 Orleans a property leased for six thousand francs a
 
 38 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 year. He owned besides, the house I now live in, where 
 we lived together; and I fool, sot, imbecile, stupid an- 
 imal that I was, used to pay the rent every three months 
 to the concierge ! " 
 
 " Cruel fortune ! " M. Daburon could not help say- 
 ing. 
 
 " Was it not, monsieur ? I was robbing myself of 
 my own money! To crown the absurdity, he left a 
 testament, wherein he declared he had no other aim in 
 view, in thus acting, than my advantage. He wished, 
 he said, to habituate me to habits of good order and 
 economy, and keep me from the commission of follies. 
 And so, monsieur, I was at forty-five a rich man, who 
 for twenty years could not accuse himself of having ex- 
 pended uselessly a single sou. In short, he had specu- 
 lated on my good heart to rob me of my life's happiness. 
 Bah ! it is enough to disgust the human race with filial 
 piety." 
 
 M. Tabaret's anger, albeit very real, was so highly 
 ludicrous in its effect upon his features and gesture 
 that the judge had much difficulty to restrain his laugh- 
 ter, although touched with pity at the recital. 
 
 " After all," said he, " this fortune ought to give 
 you pleasure." 
 
 " No, monsieur, it came too late. Of what avail to 
 have the bread when one has no longer the teeth ? 
 
 " The best part of life was gone, the age of hap- 
 piness had passed. I resigned my situation at the pawn- 
 broker's, to make way for some other poor devil, and 
 became a gentleman at large. At the end of a month, 
 I was ennuied to death ; and, to replace the interest in 
 life I despaired of gaining, I resolved to give myself a 
 passion, a hobby, a mania. I became a collector of 
 books. You think perhaps, monsieur, that to take an
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 39 
 
 interest in books a man must have studied, must be 
 learned ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur ; but he must have money. I am ac- 
 quainted with an illustrious bibliomaniac who actually 
 cannot read his own name." 
 
 " It is very possible, monsieur : but I could read ; and 
 I read all the books I bought, and mine is an unique 
 collection. It consists of all the works I could find 
 far or near, that related aught concerning the police. 
 Memoirs, reports, discourses, letters, all were delight- 
 ful to me ; and I devoured them as Don Quixote did the 
 books of chivalry. 
 
 " Reading these adventures so exciting and so real, I 
 became little by little attracted towards this mysterious 
 power which from the obscurity of the Rue Jerusalem 
 watches over and protects society from fraud and vio- 
 lence, that unseen hand that lifts the most impervious 
 veil; that invisible eye that sees through every plot; 
 that unknown intelligence that divines even the secrets 
 of men's hearts, knows to a grain weight the worth of 
 women's reputation and the price of men's integrity; 
 that universal confidant who keeps in her secret record 
 the most terrible as well as the most shameful confes- 
 sions ! 
 
 " In reading the memoirs of celebrated police agents 
 (more attractive matter to me than the fables of our best 
 authors) I became inspired by an enthusiastic admira- 
 tion for those men, so untiring in pursuit, so fertile in 
 expedient, who follow crime to his stronghold as re- 
 lentlessly as the savages of Cooper pursue their enemies 
 in the depths of the American forest. The desire seized 
 me to become a wheel of this admirable machine, a 
 small assistance in the punishment of crime and the tri- 
 umph of innocence. I have made the essay; and I
 
 4 o THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 am proud to say, monsieur, I find I have not mistaken 
 my vocation." 
 
 " Then this employment pleases you ? " 
 
 " I owe to it, monsieur, my liveliest enjoyments. 
 Adieu ennui! Since I have abandoned the pursuit of 
 old worm-eaten books for this to which I am equal, I 
 am happy. I shrug the shoulder when I see a foolish 
 fellow pay twenty-five francs for the right of hunting 
 a hare. What a prize ! Give me the hunting of a man ! 
 That calls the faculties into play, and the victory is not 
 inglorious ! The game in my sport is worth the hunter. 
 He has against him intelligence, force, and cunning. 
 The arms are nearly equal. Ah ! if people knew the ex- 
 citement of these parties of hide and seek which are 
 played between the criminal and the detective, everybody 
 would be wanting employment at the bureau of secret 
 police. The misfortune is, that the art is being lost 
 because fine crimes are rare. The race of strong crim- 
 inals, fearless and ingenious, has given place to a mob 
 of vulgar pickers and stealers, hardly worth hunting 
 after, blunderers as well as cowards, who sign their 
 names to their misdeeds, and even leave you their cartes 
 de visite. There is no merit in catching them : their 
 work examined, nothing remains but their arrest." 
 
 " It seems to me," said M. Daburon, smiling, " that 
 cur assassin is not such a bungler." 
 
 '' This case, monsieur, is an exception ; and I shall 
 have the greater delight in tracing him : and I will trace 
 him, though I should compromise myself in the pursuit. 
 For I ought to confess, M. le judge," added he with a 
 ludicrous embarrassment, " that I do not boast to my 
 friends of my exploits, but conceal them as carefully as 
 possible. They would join hands with me less warmly 
 did they know that Tirauclair and Tabaret are one."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 41 
 
 Insensibly the crime became again the subject of con- 
 versation. It was agreed, that, in the morning, Pere 
 Tabaret should instal himself at Bougival. He could 
 by hard work examine all the peasants in the country 
 in eight days. On his side the judge promised to keep 
 him advised of the least evidence that transpired, and 
 recall him, if by any accident he should procure the 
 papers of the Widow Lerouge. 
 
 " To you, M. Tabaret," said the judge in conclusion, 
 " I shall be always visible. If you have any thing to 
 speak of, do not hesitate to come at night as well as dur- 
 ing the day. I rarely go abroad ; and you will always 
 find me at home, Rue Jacob. When not in my office at 
 the Palais de Justice, I shall leave orders for your ad- 
 mittance whenever you present yourself." 
 
 The train entered the depot at this moment. M. Da- 
 buron having called a hackney coach, offered a place to 
 Pere Tabaret. The old fellow declined. 
 
 " It is not worth while," replied he ; " for I live, as I 
 have had the honor to tell you, Rue St. Lazare, two 
 steps from this." 
 
 " Till to-morrow, then ! " said M. Daburon. 
 
 " Till to-morrow," replied Pere Tabaret ; and he ad- 
 ded, " We shall find him ! " 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PERE TABARET'S dwelling was in truth, as he said, 
 not four minutes' walk from the railway terminus of 
 St. Lazare. He was the owner of the property, a fine 
 house, carefully kept, and which must have yielded a 
 fine revenue, although the rents on the quarter were not 
 extravagant.
 
 42 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The house being much too large for the old fellow, he 
 occupied only the ground floor, a suite of handsome 
 apartments, well arranged and comfortably furnished, 
 of which the principal ornament was his collection of 
 books. He lived very simply from taste as well as habit, 
 served by an old domestic to whom on great occasions 
 the portress lent a helping hand. 
 
 Nothing in the house gave the slightest indication of 
 the avocations of its proprietor. Besides, even the hum- 
 blest agent of police would be expected to possess a de- 
 gree of acuteness for which no one gave M. Tabaret 
 credit. Indeed, they mistook for incipient idiocy his 
 continual absence of mind. 
 
 It is true that all who knew him remarked the singu- 
 larity of his habits. His constant expeditions had given 
 to his proceedings an appearance at once eccentric and 
 mysterious. Never was young libertine more ir- 
 regular in his habits than this old man. He came or 
 failed to come to his meals, ate it mattered not what or 
 at what hour. He went out at every hour of the day 
 and night, often slept abroad, and even disappeared 
 for entire weeks at a time. Then he received the strang- 
 est visitors, odd looking men of suspicious appearance, 
 and fellows of ill-favored and sinister aspect. 
 
 This irregular way of life had robbed the old fellow 
 of some consideration. Many believed they saw in him 
 a shameless libertine, who dispensed his revenues in dis- 
 reputable places of amusement. They exclaimed, " Is 
 it not a shame, a man of that age ? " 
 
 He was aware of these reports, and laughed at them. 
 This did not, however, prevent many of his acquaint- 
 ances from seeking his society and paying court to him. 
 When invited to dinner, he almost invariably refused. 
 
 He saw but little of his tenants, with one exception,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 43 
 
 where he cultivated the greatest intimacy, so great in- 
 deed that he was almost as much at home in his neigh- 
 bor's apartments as his own. This exception was made 
 in favor of a widow lady, who had for more than fifteen 
 years occupied the third floor. She was called Madame 
 Gerdy, and lived with her son Noel, whom she wor- 
 shipped. 
 
 Noel Gerdy was a man thirty-three years of age, 
 and older in appearance, tall -and well-made, with a 
 noble and intelligent face, large black eyes, and black 
 hair which curled naturally. An advocate, he passed 
 for having great talent, and greater industry, and had 
 already gained a certain amount of notoriety. An ob- 
 stinate worker, cold and meditative, devoted to his pro- 
 fession, he affected, with some ostentation, perhaps, a 
 great rigidity of principle, and austerity of manners. 
 
 In Madame Gerdy's family, Pere Tabaret almost be- 
 lieved himself included. He looked upon himself as a 
 parent, and upon Noel as a son. In spite of her fifty 
 years, he had often thought of asking the hand of this 
 charming widow, and was restrained less by the fear 
 of a refusal than its consequences. To propose and be 
 rejected would sever the existing relations, so pleasur- 
 able to him. However, he had in his will, which was 
 deposited with his notary, constituted this young advo- 
 cate his sole legatee ; with the sole condition of paying 
 an annual prize of two thousand francs to the police 
 agent who during the year had drawn to light the most 
 obscure and mysterious crime. 
 
 Short as was the distance to his house, Pere Tabaret 
 was a good quarter of an hour in reaching it. On leav- 
 ing the judge his thoughts reverted to the scene of the 
 murder; and, so blinded was the old fellow to external 
 objects, that the passers by were obliged to push him
 
 44 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 aside in order to pursue their way: thus his progress 
 was a slow one. 
 
 He repeated to himself for the fiftieth time the words 
 of the Widow Lerouge, as reported by the milk-maid, 
 " If I wished for anything more, I could have it." 
 
 " All is in that," murmured he. " The Widow Le- 
 rouge possessed some important secret, which persons 
 rich and powerful had the strongest motives for con- 
 cealing. This secret was her fortune ; by means of this 
 she made her powerful friends sing to her tune. She 
 has either threatened or wearied them, and they have 
 silenced her forever ! But of what nature was this se- 
 cret, and how did she become possessed of it? Might 
 she not in her youth have been a servant in some great 
 family, where she has seen, heard, or surprised some- 
 thing. What ? Evidently there is a woman at the bot- 
 tom. May she not have assisted her mistress in some 
 intrigue ? What more probable ? And in that case the 
 affair becomes complicated. Not only must the woman 
 be found, but the lover; for it is the lover who has 
 moved in this affair. It must be, or I am deceived, a 
 noble personage. A man of inferior rank would have 
 paid the assassin. This man has not hung back ; he 
 himself has struck, avoiding the mistake of an accom- 
 plice. He is a courageous man, full of audacity and 
 coolness ; for the crime has been admirably executed. 
 
 " The gallant left nothing behind of a nature to com- 
 promise him seriously ; but for me, Gevrol would have 
 seen in the assassination the work of a robber, and over- 
 looked the real motive for the crime ! No," continued 
 the good man, " it must be the issue of an amour. Time 
 will show." 
 
 Pere Tabaret mounted the steps in front of his house. 
 The portress, seated in her loge, and chatting- with her
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 45 
 
 husband, saw him through the window by the light of 
 the lamp which hung over the door. 
 
 " Hold," said the porter, " here is the proprietor re- 
 turned." 
 
 " So it seems," returned the portress. " His princess 
 does not want him this evening. He looks troubled 
 about something." 
 
 " It is positively indecent," said the porter, " for a 
 man of his years to act in the manner he does. Oh! 
 he's got softening of the brain. One of these fine morn- 
 ings he will find his way to the insane asylum in a 
 straight waistcoat." 
 
 " Look at him now ! " interrupted the portress 
 " look at him now, in the open street ! " 
 
 The old fellow had stopped at the extremity of the 
 porch. He had taken off his hat, and, while talking 
 to himself, gesticulated violently. 
 
 " No," said he to himself, " I have not yet laid hold 
 of the clew ; but I am near it. I burn ; but I am not at 
 the fire yet." 
 
 Admitted by the portress, he passed on to the door 
 of his apartments, of which he rang the bell, forgetting 
 that he had his pass-key in his pocket. His housekeeper 
 came and opened it. 
 
 " Hey day, monsieur. Is it you, and at this hour? " 
 
 " Hey day, madame. And what of that ? " demanded 
 the old fellow. 
 
 " Do x you know," said the servant, " that it is half- 
 past eight o'clock? I thought you were not coming 
 back this evening. Have you dined ? " 
 
 " No, not yet." 
 
 " Fortunately I have kept your dinner warm. You 
 can sit down to table." 
 
 Pere Tabaret seated himself, and wa^ helped to soup ;
 
 46 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 but, mounting his hobby-horse again, he forgot to eat, 
 and remained arrested by an idea, his spoon in the air, 
 
 " He is certainly touched in the head," thought Man- 
 nette. " Look at that stupid air. Who would act in 
 such a manner that was in his senses ? " 
 
 She struck him on the shoulder, bawling in his ear, 
 as if he were deaf, 
 
 " You do not eat. Are you not hungry ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," answered he, trying mechanically to es- 
 cape the voice that sounded in his ears, " I am very hun- 
 gry ; for since morning I have been obliged " 
 
 He interrupted himself, remaining with his mouth 
 open, his eyes fixed on vacancy. 
 
 "You have been obliged ?" repeated Mannette. 
 
 " Thunder ! " cried he, raising his clenched hands to- 
 wards the ceiling, " thunder of heaven ! I have it 
 now." 
 
 His movement was so violent and sudden that the 
 housekeeper was alarmed, and retired to the further 
 end of the room, near the door. 
 
 " Yes," continued he, " it is certain there is a child ! " 
 
 Mannette approached quickly. 
 
 "An infant?" she asked in astonishment. 
 
 " Ah, so," cried he in a furious tone. " W r hat are you 
 doing there? Has your hardihood come to this that 
 you pick up the words which escape me? Do me the 
 favor to retire to your kitchen, and stay there until I 
 call you." 
 
 " He is going crazy ! " thought Mannette, as she dis- 
 appeared very quickly. 
 
 Pere Tabaret returned to the table. The soup was 
 completely cold ; but he swallowed it in large spoonfuls, 
 without remarking it. 
 
 " Stupid ! " said he to himself. " Why did I not think
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 47 
 
 of it before ? Poor humanity ! I am growing old ; and 
 my toils are less sharp than they used to be. But it is 
 clear as the day : the circumstances all point to that con- 
 clusion." 
 
 He rapped with his spoon upon the table : the servant 
 reappeared. 
 
 " The roast," demanded he, " and leave me to my- 
 self." 
 
 " Yes," continued he, furiously carving a leg of 
 Presale mutton, " yes, there was an infant ; and here 
 is the history. The Widow Lerouge, when a young wo- 
 man, is in the service of a great lady, immensely rich. 
 Her husband, a sailor, probably had departed on a long 
 voyage. The lady had a lover found herself enciente. 
 She confided in the Widow Lerouge, and, with her as- 
 sistance, accomplished a clandestine accouchement." 
 
 He called again. 
 
 " Mannette, the dessert, and get out ! " 
 
 Certainly such a master was unworthy of so excellent 
 a cook as Mannette. He would have been puzzled to 
 say what he had eaten for dinner, or even what he was 
 eating at this moment ; it was a preserve of pears. 
 
 " But what," murmured he, " has become of the 
 child ? Has it been destroyed ? No ; for the Widow 
 Lerouge, an accomplice in an infanticide, would be no 
 longer formidable. The child has been preserved, and 
 confided to the care of our widow, by whom it has been 
 reared. They have been able to take the infant away 
 from her, but not the proofs of its birth and its ex- 
 istence. Here is the opening. The father is the man 
 of the fine carriage; the mother is the lady who 
 came with the handsome young man. Ha! ha! I 
 can well believe the dear old dame wanted for nothing. 
 She had a secret worth a farm in Brie. But the old lady
 
 48 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 was extravagant; her expenses and her demands have 
 increased year by year. Poor humanity ! She has 
 leaned upon the staff too heavily, and broken it. She 
 has threatened. They have been frightened, and said, 
 ' Let there be an end of this ! ' But who has charged 
 himself with the commission? The papa? No: he is 
 too old. By jupiter ! the son, the child himself ! He 
 would save his mother, the brave boy ! He has slain the 
 witness and burnt the proofs ! " 
 
 Mannette all this time, her ear to the keyhole, listened 
 with all her soul ; from time to time she gleaned a word, 
 an oath, the noise of a blow upon the table ; but that was 
 all. 
 
 " For certain," thought she, " his women are running 
 in his head." 
 
 Her curiosity overcame her prudence. Hearing no 
 more, she ventured to open the door a little way. The 
 old fellow caught her in the very act. 
 
 " Monsieur wants his coffee ? " stammered she tim- 
 idly. 
 
 " Yes, you may bring it to me," he answered. 
 
 He attempted to swallow his coffee at a gulp, but 
 scalded himself so severely that the pain brought him 
 suddenly from speculation to reality. 
 
 " Thunder ! " grumbled he ; " but it is hot ! Devil 
 take the case! it has set me beside myself. They are 
 right in the office, when they say I take too strong an 
 interest in the investigations. Who but I should have, 
 by the sole exercise of observation and reason, estab- 
 lished the whole history of the assassination ? Certainly 
 not Gevrol, poor man ! He must, if he has any profes- 
 sional feeling, be deeply humiliated. Shall I seek M. 
 Daburon ? No, not yet. I must sift to the bottom all 
 the particulars and arrange my ideas systematically be-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 49 
 
 fore meeting him again. Upon the other hand, if I sit 
 here alone, this history will keep me in a fever of specu- 
 lation. My faith! I will call upon Madame Gerdy: 
 she has been ailing for some days. I will have a chat 
 with Noel, and that will brighten me up a little." 
 
 He got up from the table, and took his hat and cane. 
 
 " Monsieur is going out ? " demanded Mannette. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Monsieur will not return until late? " 
 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " But monsieur will return? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 One minute later Pere Tabaret rang at his friend 
 Madame Gerdy 's apartments. 
 
 Madame Gerdy lived in respectable style. She pos- 
 sessed a competence ; and her son's business, already 
 large, had made it a fortune. She had few acquaint- 
 ances, and, with the exception of one or two friends, 
 occasionally invited to dinner, received no visitors. Dur- 
 ing the fifteen years that Pere Tabaret came familiarly 
 to the house, he had encountered only the curate of the 
 parish, an old professor, and Madame Gerdy's brother, 
 a colonel retired from service. 
 
 When these three visitors called upon the same even- 
 ing, an event somewhat rare, they played at " Boston," 
 or made a party at piquet. Noel, however, seldom re- 
 mained in the salon, but shut himself up after dinner 
 in his study, and immersed himself in his law papers. 
 He was supposed to work far into the night. Often in 
 winter his lamp was not extinguished before dawn. 
 
 Mother and son absolutely lived for one another, as 
 all who knew them took pleasure in repeating. 
 
 They loved and honored Noel for the care he be- 
 stowed upon his mother, for his more than filial de-
 
 50 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 votion, for the sacrifices which all supposed he made 
 in living at his age like an old man. 
 
 The neighbors were in the habit of contrasting the 
 conduct of this exemplary young man with that of Pere 
 Tabaret, the incorrigible old rake, the gallant in the 
 peruke. 
 
 As for Madame Gerdy, she saw nothing but her son 
 in all the world. Her love had actually taken the form 
 of worship. In Noel, she believed she saw united all the 
 physical and moral perfections. To her he seemed of 
 a superior order to the rest of humanity. If he spoke, 
 she listened and was silent: his word was a command, 
 his advice a decree of Providence. To care for her son, 
 study his tastes, anticipate his wishes, was the sole aim 
 of her life. Noel was her existence. 
 
 She was a mother. 
 
 " Is Madame Gerdy visible ? " demanded Pere Tab- 
 aret of the young girl who opened the door ; and, with- 
 out waiting for an answer, he walked into the room like 
 a man assured that his presence cannot be inopportune, 
 and ought to be agreeable. 
 
 A single lamp gave light to the salon, which was not 
 in its accustomed order. The marble-top table, usually 
 in the middle of the room, was rolled into a corner. 
 Madame Gerdy's large arm-chair was near the window : 
 a newspaper, all crumpled, lay before it on the carpet. 
 
 The old amateur took in the whole at a glance. 
 
 " Has any accident occurred ? " demanded he of the 
 young girl. 
 
 " Do not speak to me, monsieur : we have had such a 
 fright ! oh, what a fright ! " 
 
 " What was it ? speak quickly ! " 
 
 " You know that madame has been ailing for more
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 51 
 
 than a month. She has eaten I may say almost nothing ; 
 this morning, even, she said to me " 
 
 "Well, well! but this evening?" 
 
 " After dinner madame came into the salon as usual. 
 She sat down and took up one of M. Noel's newspapers. 
 Scarcely had she begun to read, when she uttered a 
 great cry, oh, a terrible cry, monsieur! We ran into 
 the salon, and found madame where she had fallen upon 
 the carpet as if dead. M. Noel raised her in his arms, 
 and carried her into her chamber. I wanted to fetch a 
 doctor ; but he said there was no need : he knew what 
 was the matter with her." 
 
 " And how is she now ? " 
 
 " She has come to her senses ; that is to say ; I suppose 
 so ; for M. Noel made me leave the room. All that I do 
 know is, that she kept talking all the time, and talking 
 very loudly too; for I heard her say, Ah, monsieur, 
 but it is all so very strange ! " 
 
 " What is strange ? " 
 
 " What I heard Madame Gerdy say to M. Noel. 
 
 " Ah ha ! my belle ! " sneered Pere Tabaret ; " so you 
 listen at key-holes, do you ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur ! no indeed, I swear to you ; but ma- 
 dame cried out like one lost. She said," 
 
 " My girl," said Pere Tabaret, " one never hears any 
 thing good through key-holes. Mannette can tell you 
 as much." 
 
 The poor girl, thoroughly confused, sought to excuse 
 herself. 
 
 " Enough, enough ! " said the good man. " Return to 
 your work : you need not disturb M. Noel ; I can wait 
 for him very well here. 
 
 And, satisfied with the reproof he had administered,
 
 52 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 he picked up the newspaper, and installed himself in the 
 chimney-corner, placing the lamp so as to read with 
 ease. 
 
 A minute had scarcely elapsed when he in his turn 
 bounded in his chair, and uttered a cry of instinctive 
 terror and surprise. 
 
 These were the first words that met his eye. 
 
 " A horrible crime has plunged in grief and conster- 
 nation the little village of La Jonchere. A poor widow, 
 named Lerouge, who enjoyed the general esteem and 
 love of the community, has been assassinated in her own 
 house. The officers of the law made the usual 
 preliminary investigations ; and, from the informa- 
 tion we have been able to gather, we believe justice 
 is already on the track of the authors of this das- 
 tardly crime." 
 
 " Thunder ! " cried Pere Tabaret to himself, " can it 
 be that Madame Gerdy ? " 
 
 The idea was but a gleam of lightning, dismissed as 
 soon as formed ; he fell back into the arm-chair, and, 
 raising his shoulders, murmured, 
 
 " This affair of Jonchere is driving me out of my 
 senses ! I can think of nothing but this infernal Widow 
 Lerouge. I see her now in every thing." 
 
 In the mean while, an uncontrollable curiosity made 
 him peruse the entire newspaper. He found nothing, 
 with the exception of these lines, to justify or explain 
 even the slightest emotion. 
 
 " It is an extremely singular coincidence, at the same 
 time," thought the incorrigible police agent. Then, re- 
 marking that the newspaper was slightly torn at the 
 lower part, and crushed, as if by a convulsive grasp, he 
 repeated, 
 
 " It is strange ! "
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 53 
 
 At this moment the door of Madame Gerdy's room 
 opened, and Noel appeared on the threshold. 
 
 Without doubt the accident to his mother had greatly 
 excited him ; for he was very pale and his countenance, 
 ordinarily so calm, wore an expression of profound sor- 
 row. He appeared surprised to see Pere Tabaret. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Noel ! " cried the old fellow. " Calm 
 my inquietude. How is your mother? " 
 
 " Madame Gerdy is as well as can be expected." 
 
 " Madame Gerdy ! " repeated the old fellow with an 
 air of astonishment ; but he continued, " It is plain you 
 have been seriously alarmed." 
 
 " In truth," replied the advocate, seating himself, 
 " I have experienced a rude shock." 
 
 Noel was making visibly the' greatest efforts to appear 
 calm, to listen to the old fellow,, and to answer him. 
 Pere Tabaret, as much disquieted on his side, perceived 
 nothing. 
 
 " At least, my dear boy," said he, " tell me how this 
 happened ? " 
 
 The young man hesitated a moment, as if consult- 
 ing with himself. No doubt he was unprepared for 
 this point blank question, and knew not what answer to 
 make ; at last he replied, 
 
 " Madame Gerdy has suffered a severe shock in learn- 
 ing from a paragraph in this newspaper that a woman 
 in whom she takes a strong interest has been assassina- 
 ted." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Pere Tabaret. 
 
 The old fellow was in a fever of embarrassment. He 
 wanted to question Noel, but was restrained by the fear 
 of revealing the secret of his association with the police. 
 Indeed he had almost betrayed himself by the eager- 
 ness with which he exclaimed,
 
 54 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " What ! your mother knew the Widow Lerouge ? " 
 
 By an effort he restrained himself, and with difficulty 
 dissembled his satisfaction ; for he was delighted to find 
 himself so unexpectedly on the trace of the antecedents 
 of the victim of La Jonchere. 
 
 " She was," continued Noel, " the slave of Madame 
 Gerdy, devoted to her body and soul ! She would have 
 thrown herself in the fire at a sign from her hand." 
 
 " Then you, my dear friend, you knew this honest 
 woman ? " 
 
 " I have not seen her for a long time," replied Noel ; 
 " but I knew her well ; I ought even to say I loved her 
 tenderly. She was my nurse." 
 
 " She, this woman ? " stammered Pere Tabaret. 
 
 This time he was thunderstruck. The Widow Le- 
 rouge Noel's nurse? He was playing with fortune. 
 Providence had evidently chosen him for its instrument, 
 and was leading him by the hand. He was about to 
 obtain all the information, in one half-hour, which he 
 had almost despaired of ever procuring. He remained 
 seated before Noel stunned and speechless. At length 
 he remembered, that, unless he would compromise him- 
 self, he must break the silence. 
 
 " It is a great misfortune," murmured he. 
 
 " For Madame Gerdy, I know nothing of that ; but, 
 for me, it is an overwhelming misfortune ! I am struck 
 to the heart by the blow which has slain this poor wo- 
 man. Her death, M. Tabaret, has annihilated my 
 dreams of the future, and overthrown my most cher- 
 ished hopes. I have to perform a solemn duty, to 
 avenge myself for cruel outrages. Her death breaks 
 the weapon in my hands, and reduces me to despair, to 
 impotence. Alas! I am indeed unfortunate." 
 
 " You unfortunate ? " cried Pere Tabaret, singularly
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 55 
 
 affected by the sadness of his dear Noel. " In heaven's 
 name, what has happened to you ? " 
 
 " I suffer," murmured the advocate, " not only from 
 injustice that can never be repaired, but from dread of 
 calumny that cannot be repudiated. I am defenceless. 
 I shall be accused of inventing falsehood, of being an 
 ambitious intriguer, having no regard for truth, no 
 scruples of conscience." 
 
 Pere Tabaret was puzzled. What connection could 
 possibly exist between Noel's honor and the assassina- 
 tion at Jonchere ? His brain was in a whirl. A thous- 
 and troubled and confused ideas jostled one another in 
 inextricable confusion. 
 
 " Come, come, Noel," said he, " collect yourself. Cal- 
 umny threatens you? Nonsense! Have you not 
 friends? Am I not here? Have confidence in me. 
 It will be strange, indeed, if between us two " 
 
 The advocate started to his feet, inflamed by a sudden 
 resolution. 
 
 " Yes," interrupted he, " you shall know the secret 
 that is stifling me. The role I have imposed upon my- 
 self irritates and confounds me. I have need of a friend 
 to console, a counsellor to advise me ; for one is a bad 
 judge of his own cause : and this crime has plunged me 
 into an abyss of hesitation." 
 
 " You know," replied Pere Tabaret, " that I regard 
 you as a son. Command me, my dear Noel, as if I were 
 indeed your father." 
 
 " Know then," commenced the advocate, " but no, 
 not here: what I have to say must not be overheard. 
 Let us go into my study."
 
 56 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHEN Noel and Pere Tabaret were seated face to 
 face in the small apartment devoted to Noel's business, 
 and the door had been carefully locked, the old fellow 
 began to feel uneasy. 
 
 " If your mother should require any thing," said he. 
 
 " If Madame Gerdy rings," replied the young man, 
 " the servant will attend to her wants." 
 
 This indifference, this coldness, confounded Pere 
 Tabaret, accustomed as he was to the interchange of 
 affection between mother and son. 
 
 " For heaven's sake, Noel," said he, " calm yourself. 
 Do not allow yourself to be overcome by a feeling of ir- 
 ritation. You have, I see, some little pique against your 
 mother, which will be forgotten to-morrow. Don't 
 speak of her in this icy tone ; but tell me what you mean 
 by calling her Madame Gerdy ? " 
 
 " What I mean ? " replied the advocate in a hollow 
 tone, " what I mean ? " 
 
 He quitted his arm-chair, took several strides across 
 the floor of the little chamber, returned to his place 
 near the old fellow, and said, 
 
 " Because, M. Tabaret, Madame Gerdy is not my 
 mother ! " 
 
 This sentence fell like a blow of a heavy club on the 
 head of the amateur : he was paralyzed. 
 
 " Oh ! " said he, in the tone one assumes when reject- 
 ing an absurd proposition, " do you dream of what you 
 say, Noel ? Is it credible ? Is it probable ? " 
 
 " It is improbable," replied Noel with peculiar em- 
 phasis : " it is incredible, if you will ; but it is true. For 
 thirty-three years, ever since my birth, this woman has
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 57 
 
 played a most marvellous and unworthy comedy, to en- 
 noble and enrich her son, for she has a son, and to 
 despoil, to plunder me ! " 
 
 " My friend," continued Pere Tabaret, who in the 
 background of the picture presented by this singular 
 revelation saw again the phantom of the murdered 
 Widow Lerouge. 
 
 But Noel heard not, and seemed hardly in a state to 
 hear. The young man, usually so cold, so self-con- 
 tained, could not control his anger. At the sound of 
 his own voice, he became animated, as a good horse 
 might at the jingling of his harness. 
 
 " Was ever man," continued he, " more cruelly de- 
 ceived, more miserably duped, than I have been, I who 
 have so loved this woman? How I have sought for 
 evidences of affection to lavish on her, who was sacri- 
 ficing me to her own selfish ambition for her son ! How 
 she has laughed at me! Her infamy dates from the 
 moment when for the first time she took me on her 
 knees ; and, until these few days past, she has sustained 
 without faltering her execrable role: her love for me, 
 hypocrisy ! her devotion falsehood ! her caresses lies. 
 And how I have worshipped her ! Ah ! why can I not 
 recall the innocent kisses of my childhood, the devotion 
 of my youth, the sacrifices of my manhood, given in ex- 
 change for her Judas' kisses ? And for what was all this 
 heroism of deception, this caution, this duplicity? To 
 betray me, more securely to despoil me; to rob me; to 
 give to her illegitimate offspring all that lawfully apper- 
 tained to me, a noble name, a princely inheritance ! " 
 
 " We are burning ! " thought Pere Tabaret, who was 
 fast relapsing into the collaborateur of M. Gevrol; 
 then aloud he said, 
 
 " This is terribly serious, my dear Noel. To credit
 
 58 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 what you have said, we must believe Madame Gerdy 
 possessed of an amount of audacity and ability rarely 
 united in one individual. She must have been assisted, 
 advised, compelled perhaps. Who have been her ac- 
 complices? She could never have accomplished this 
 herself; her husband perhaps himself?" 
 
 " Her husband ! " interrupted Noel, with a bitter 
 laugh. " Ah ! you have believed her a widow. Pshaw ! 
 She never had a husband. Pere Gerdy never had an 
 existence. I am illegitimate, my dear Tabaret, thrice 
 base born, Noel, son of a femme convert, and an un- 
 known father ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the old fellow ; "this then is the occasion 
 of your marriage with Mademoiselle Levernois being 
 delayed these four years ? " 
 
 " Yes, my friend, that was the cause. And what mis- 
 fortunes might have been averted by this marriage with 
 a young girl whom I love! Had I wedded her before 
 making this abominable discover)". I should not have 
 wasted all rrly affection on her that I have called my 
 mother. When she told me I was not the son of this im- 
 aginary individual, this M. Gerdy, she wept, she ac- 
 cused herself, she seemed ready to die of grief and 
 shame ; and I, poor fool ! dry her tears, excuse her to 
 her own eyes, console her with my caresses ! No, she 
 had no husband : such women have no husbands. She 
 was the Count de Commarin's mistress; and, on the 
 day when he quitted her, he threw to her three hun- 
 dred thousand francs, the price of her degradation ! " 
 
 Noel would have continued to pour forth these fur- 
 ious denunciations; but his volubility was arrested by 
 the old fellow. He felt he was coming to a history in all 
 points similar to that which he had imagined; and his
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 59 
 
 impatience to gratify his vanity, in discovering how 
 nearly he had divined the facts, made him almost for- 
 get to express any sympathy for his friend's misfor- 
 tunes. 
 
 " My dear boy," said he, " let us not digress. You 
 Ask me for advice; and I am perhaps the best adviser 
 you could have chosen. Come, then, to the point. How 
 have you learned this? Have you proofs of what you 
 state ? where are they ? " 
 
 The decided tone of the old fellow would no doubt 
 have awakened Noel's attention at any other time ; but 
 he was off his guard : he had not leisure to stop or to re- 
 flect. He answered promptly, 
 
 " I have known the truth for three weeks. I made 
 the discovery by chance. I have important moral proofs ; 
 but they are mere presumptive evidence. A word from 
 the Widow Lerouge, one single word, would have ren- 
 dered them decisive. This word, she cannot pronounce, 
 since they have killed her ; but she has said it to me. Of 
 what avail? Now, Madame Gerdy will deny all. I 
 know her ; with her head on the block, she will deny it. 
 My father doubtless will turn against me. I am myself 
 morally convinced. I was strong in evidence ; but this 
 crime renders vain my certainty, utterly destroys my 
 proofs ! " 
 
 " Explain it all to me," replied Pere Tabaret after a 
 pause, "all you understand. We, the old, are some- 
 times able to give good advice ; and I am willing to ad- 
 vise you." 
 
 " Three weeks ago," commenced Noel, "searching 
 for some old documents, I opened Madame Gerdy's sec- 
 retary. Accidentally I overturned a drawer: some 
 papers tumbled out, amongst which were a packet of
 
 60 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 letters, which fell right into my hand. A mechanical 
 impulse, which I cannot explain, prompted me to untie 
 the string, and read one of the letters." 
 
 " You did wrong," remarked Pere Tabaret. 
 
 " Be it so. I read. At the end of ten lines, I was 
 convinced that this correspondence was my father's, 
 whose name, Madame Gerdy, in spite of my prayers, 
 had always hidden from me. You can understand my 
 emotion. I carried off the packet, shut myself up in this 
 room, and devoured the letters from beginning to end." 
 
 " And you have been cruelly punished, my poor 
 boy ! " 
 
 " It is true; but who in my position could have re- 
 sisted ? These letters have given me pain ; but they af- 
 ford the proof of what I have told you." 
 
 " And you have preserved the letters ? " 
 
 " I have them here ; and, that you may understand 
 the case in which I have requested your advice, I am 
 going to read them to you." 
 
 The advocate opened one of the drawers of his bu- 
 reau, pressed an imperceptible spring, and a hidden re- 
 ceptacle appeared in the back of the upper tablette, from 
 which he drew out a bundle of letters. 
 
 " You understand, my friend," said he, " that I shall 
 spare you all insignificant details, which, however, have 
 their own weight. I am only going to take up the im- 
 portant facts, which treat directly of the affair." 
 
 Pere Tabaret nestled in his arm-chair, burning with 
 the fever of curiosity, his face expressing the most ar- 
 dent attention. 
 
 After a selection, which he was some time in making, 
 the advocate opened a letter, and commenced his read- 
 ing, in a voice which trembled, in spite of his efforts to 
 render it calm.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 61 
 
 " ' MY VALERIE, WELL BELOVED, ' 
 
 " Valerie," said he, " you understand is Madame 
 Gerdy." 
 
 " I know, I know. Do not interrupt yourself." 
 Noel continued. 
 
 " ' My Valerie, well beloved. 
 
 ' This is a happy day. This morning I received your 
 welcome letter. I have covered it with kisses. I have 
 read it a hundred times ; and now it has gone to join the 
 others here upon my heart. This letter fills me with 
 transport. You were not deceived. Heaven has blessed 
 our loves ; and we shall have a son. 
 
 ' I shall have a son, the living image of my adored 
 Valerie ! Oh ! why are we parted at a time like this ? 
 Why have I not the wings of a bird, that I might fly 
 to thee, beloved of my soul and mingle our tears of joy 
 and thankfulness? Ah! never 'as at this moment have I 
 cursed the fatal union imposed upon me by an inexor- 
 able family, whose cruelty my prayers and tears could 
 not soften. I cannot restrain myself from hating this 
 woman who bears in spite of me my name, innocent vic- 
 tim though she is of the barbarity of our parents. And, 
 to fill up the measure of sorrow, she is also soon to make 
 me a father. What words can paint my sorrow when I 
 compare the fortunes of these two children? 
 
 " ' One, son of the object of my tenderest love, shall 
 have neither father, family, nor name, since an inexor- 
 able law forbids me to legitimatize him. While the 
 other, the son of my detested spouse, by the sole fact of 
 his birth shall be rich, honored, noble, surrounded by 
 devotion and homage, with a great position in the world. 
 I cannot endure the thought of this terrible injustice! 
 Who can imagine a way to repair it ? I cannot tell now ; 
 but be sure I shall find a way. It is to him, the most 
 desired, most cherished, most beloved, that the best for- 
 tune should come ; and come to him it shall : I swear 
 
 it; "
 
 62 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " From whence is that letter dated ? " demanded Pere 
 Tabaret. 
 
 " See," replied Noel. 
 
 He handed the letter to the old fellow, who read, 
 
 "Venice, December, 1828." 
 
 " You perceive," said the advocate, " all the impor- 
 tance of this first letter: it is a brief statement of the 
 facts. My father, married in spite of himself, adores his 
 mistress and detests his wife. Nor are his feelings to- 
 wards the infants at all concealed. In fact, we can 
 plainly perceive, peeping forth, the germ of the idea 
 which afterwards he matured and carried into execu- 
 tion, in defiance of all law human or divine ! " 
 
 He was gradually falling into his professional man- 
 ner, as if pleading the cause before the tribunals. Pere 
 Tabaret again interrupted him. 
 
 " There is no explanation necessary ; the letter is ex- 
 plicit enough. I am not an adept in such matters as a 
 grand juror; but I understand admirably so far." 
 
 " I pass several letters," continued Noel, " and I 
 come to this one of Jan. 23, 1829. It is very long, and 
 filled with matters altogether foreign to the subject 
 which now interests us. However, I find therein two 
 passages, which attest the slow but steady and deter- 
 minate growth of the idea suggested in the first letter. 
 
 " ' The destinies, more powerful than my will, chain 
 me here; but my soul is ever near to thee, my adored 
 Valerie! Without ceasing, my thoughts rest upon the 
 unspeakable happiness in store for us.' 
 
 " I skip," said Noel, " several pages of passionate 
 rhapsody, to stop at these lines at the end. 
 
 " ' My aversion to the countess increases daily. Un- 
 fortunate woman ! I hate and at the same time pity her. 
 She seems to divine the occasion of my sadness, my
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 63 
 
 coldness. By her timid submission and unalterable 
 sweetness, she seems to seek pardon for her share in 
 our unhappy union. Sacrificed creature ! She also may 
 have given her heart to another, before being fettered 
 to a husband who can never look upon her with a hus- 
 band's love. Your good heart will pardon me this pity.' 
 
 " That countess was my mother," cried the advocate 
 in a trembling voice. " And he demands pardon for 
 the pity she inspires ! Poor lady ! " 
 
 He covered his eyes with his hand, as if forcing back 
 his tears, and added in a low tone, 
 
 "She is dead!" 
 
 In spite of his impatience, Pere Tabaret dared not 
 utter a word. He resented keenly the profound sorrow 
 of his youthful and respected friend. After a silence, 
 which almost maddened the old fellow, Noel raised 
 his head, and returned to the letters. 
 
 " All the letters which follow," said he, " carry traces 
 of the preoccupation of my father's mind on the sub- 
 ject of his illegitimate son. I lay them, however, aside, 
 and take up this written from Rome, March 5, 1829." 
 
 " ' My son, our son, my most constant, my only 
 care, how to secure for him the position in the future 
 of which I dream ? The nobles of former days had not 
 these vulgar obstacles to their wishes to contend with. 
 In old time, a word from the king would have ennobled 
 my son, and given him a place in the world. To-day, 
 the king who governs with difficulty his disaffected 
 subjects, can do less than nothing. Nobility has lost its 
 rights, and the lords of France are as powerless to trans- 
 gress the laws as the meanest of their vassals/ 
 
 " Lower down I find, 
 
 " ' My heart loves to picture to itself the form and 
 features of our son. He will have the soul, the mind,
 
 64 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 the beauty, all the fascinations of his mother. He will 
 inherit from his father the pride, the valor, the senti- 
 ments of his noble and ancient race. What will be the 
 other? I tremble to think of it.' 
 
 " The monster ! that is I ! " cried the advocate with 
 intense rage. ' Whilst the other ' but let us leave 
 this part of the subject, these preliminaries to an out- 
 rageous action. I only desire by these to show the ab- 
 beration of my father's reason under the influence of his 
 passion. We shall soon be at the end." 
 
 Pere Tabaret was astonished at the strength of this 
 passion, long since burnt out, of which Noel was rak- 
 ing up the dead ashes. Perhaps he felt all the more 
 keenly the force of those passionate expressions of de- 
 votion, because they reminded him of his own lost 
 youth. He understood how irresistible must have been 
 the force of such a love; and he trembled to speculate 
 as to the result. 
 
 " Here," said Noel, " is another ; not one of those in- 
 terminable epistles from which I have read you frag- 
 ments, but a simple billet. It is dated from Venice at 
 the beginning of May ; it is short and decisive. 
 
 " ' DEAR VALERIE, 
 
 " ' Thy response is more favorable than I dared to 
 hope for. The project I have conceived is now prac- 
 ticable. I begin to feel the approach of calmness and 
 security. Your son shall bear my name. I shall not 
 be obliged to separate myself from him. He shall be 
 reared near me, in my house, under my eyes, on my 
 knees, in my arms. Shall I have strength to bear this 
 excess of happiness? 
 
 " ' I set out to-morrow for Naples, from whence I 
 shall write to you at length ; although, whatever may 
 happen, though I should sacrifice the important inter- 
 ests confided to me, I shall be in Paris at the solemn
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 65 
 
 hour. My presence will double your courage ; my love 
 shall diminish thy sufferings.' " 
 
 " Pardon me for interrupting you, Noel," said Pere 
 Tabaret, " do you know what grave affairs detained 
 your father abroad ? " 
 
 " My father, my old friend," replied the advocate, 
 " was, in spite of his youth, one of the friends, one of 
 the confidants, of Charles X. ; and he had been charged 
 by him with a secret mission to Italy. My father is the 
 Count Rheteau de Commarin." 
 
 " Whew ! " exclaimed the old fellow ; and between his 
 teeth, the better to engrave the name upon his memory, 
 he repeated several times, " Rheteau de Commarin." 
 
 Noel held his peace. Having controlled his resent- 
 ment, he seemed buried in reflection, as if seeking the 
 means of executing his unalterable determination to re- 
 pair the wrong he had sustained. 
 
 " In the middle of the month of May," continued he, 
 " my father writes again, this time from Naples. Does 
 it not appear incredible that a man of prudence, sense, 
 a dignified diplomatist, a gentleman, should dare, even 
 in the eagerness of insensate passion, to confide to paper 
 this most monstrous project? Listen! 
 
 " ' MY ADORED, 
 
 ' ' Germain, my faithful valet de chambre, will hand 
 you this letter. I have despatched him to Normandy, 
 charged with a commission of the most delicate nature. 
 He is one of those servitors who may be trusted im- 
 plicitly. 
 
 ' The time has come when you must learn the na- 
 ture of my project touching our son. In three weeks, 
 at the latest. I shall be in Paris. 
 
 " ' Here is what I have resolved. 
 
 " ' The two infants will be entrusted to two nurses
 
 66 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 of Normandy, where my estates are situated. One of 
 these women, selected and instructed by Germain, will 
 be in our interests ; to her charge, my Valerie, our child 
 is to be confided. These two women shall leave Paris 
 the same day, Germain accompanying her who has the 
 son of the countess. 
 
 An accident, arranged in advance, will compel 
 these two women to pass one night on the road. An- 
 other chance, brought about by Germain, will force 
 them to sleep in the same inn, in the same chamber ! 
 
 ' ' During the night, the nurse entrusted with your 
 child will change the infants in their cradles. 
 
 ' ' I have foreseen and arranged every thing, even 
 as I now explain it to you. Every precaution has been 
 taken to prevent our secret from escaping. Germain is 
 charged to procure, while in Paris, a cradle and cloth- 
 ing for your infant precisely similar to that of the coun- 
 tess's. Assist him with your advice. 
 
 " ' Your maternal heart, sweet Valerie, may bleed at 
 thought of being deprived of your infant. Console your- 
 self for the loss of his innocent caresses, by dreaming 
 of the station secured to him by your sacrifice. What 
 excess of maternal tenderness can serve him as power- 
 fully as this separation ? As to the other, I know your 
 tenderness of heart. You will love him for his father's 
 sake; and the affection you bestow on him will prove 
 your devotion to me. And he will have nothing to com- 
 plain of. Knowing nothing, he shall have nothing to 
 regret ; and all that money and influence can secure, in 
 his position, he shall have. 
 
 " ' Do not argue with me that this attempt is crimi- 
 nal. No, my well beloved, no. The success of our plan 
 depends upon so many coincidences, independent of our 
 will, that should they unite, we may assure ourselves 
 the hand of Providence favors our design. If success 
 crowns our wishes, it will be because heaven has decreed 
 it. 
 
 'I have hope!" 
 
 " Just what I thought," murmured Pere Tabaret. 
 
 " And the wretched man," cried Noel, " dares to in-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 67 
 
 yoke the aid of Providence ! He would make heaven his 
 accomplice ! " 
 
 " But your mother," demanded the old fellow, 
 " pardon, I would say Madame Gerdy, how did she 
 receive this proposition ? " 
 
 " She would appear to have rejected it, at first, for 
 here are twenty pages of eloquent persuasion from the 
 count, urging her to agree to it. Oh, this woman ! " 
 
 " My son," said Pere Tabaret, softly, " let us not be 
 unjust. Why direct all your resentment against Ma- 
 dame Gerdy ? To me, the count seems far more deserv- 
 ing of your anger." 
 
 " True," interrupted Noel, with a certain degree of 
 violence, " true, the count is culpable. He is the au- 
 thor of an infamous conspiracy; yet I am not inspired 
 by a sense of hatred against him. He has committed a 
 crime, but has passion to excuse it. Moreover, he has 
 not deceived me every hour of my life, by enacting a 
 lie, as this miserable woman has, for thirty years. And, 
 more than all, his punishment has been so cruel, that I 
 can even now pardon the injury he has done me, and 
 weep for the suffering it has entailed." 
 
 " Ah ! he has been punished ? " interrogated the old 
 fellow. 
 
 " Yes, fearfully ; how you shall learn. But allow me 
 to continue. Towards the end of May, or more prob- 
 ably, during the first days of June, the count must have 
 arrived in Paris ; for the correspondence ceases. It 
 would seem, that, after his meeting with" Madame 
 Gerdy, the final arrangements of the conspiracy were 
 delayed by some obstacle. Here is a billet, relieving all 
 uncertainty on the subject. On the day it was written, 
 the count was on service at the Tuileries, and unable to 
 leave his post. He has written it even in the king's cabi-
 
 68 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 net, on the king's paper ; see the royal arms ! The bar- 
 gain has been concluded ; the woman who has consented 
 to become the instrument of his project, is in Paris, of 
 which he acquaints his mistress. 
 
 " ' DEAR VALERIE, 
 
 1 ' Germain announces to me the arrival of your 
 son's nurse, your son, our son. She will present her- 
 self at your house during the day. She is to be depended 
 upon. A magnificent recompense is the price of her dis- 
 cretion. She has been given to understand that you are 
 ignorant of the proposed exchange of children; there- 
 fore say nothing to her that may undeceive her on that 
 point. I wish to charge myself with the sole respon- 
 sibility of the deed. It is the most prudent course. This 
 woman is of Normandy. She was born on our lands 
 and in some sort in our house. Her husband is an hon- 
 est mariner. Her name is Claudine Lerouge. 
 
 ' Be of good courage, my love ! I am exacting from 
 you the greatest sacrifice that can be made by woman ; 
 and I appreciate the devotion that foregoes a mother's 
 happiness for thy lover's sake. There is no longer a 
 doubt that heaven is protecting us. All smiles. Here- 
 after everything depends upon our address, our pru- 
 dence. I feel that we shall succeed ! ' : 
 
 On one point, at least Pere Tabaret was sufficiently 
 enlightened. The researches into the past life of the 
 Widow Lerouge were anticipated. He could not re- 
 strain an exclamation, " At last ! " of satisfaction, which 
 fortunately escaped Noel. 
 
 " This note," said the advocate, " closes the Count de 
 Commarin's correspondence." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the old fellow, " you are in pos- 
 session of nothing more ? " 
 
 " I have yet ten lines, written many years later, which 
 certainly have some weight, but after all offer only 
 moral proof."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 69 
 
 " What a misfortune ! " murmured Pere Tabaret. 
 Noel replaced on his bureau the letters which were in 
 his hand, and turning towards his old friend, looked at 
 him steadily. 
 
 " Suppose," he said slowly, and emphasizing every 
 syllable, " suppose that all my sources of information 
 end here. Admit, for a moment, that I know nothing 
 more than you do now. What is your advice ? " 
 
 Pere Tabaret paused some minutes before answering ; 
 he was weighing the probabilities resulting from the 
 count's letters. 
 
 " For my own part," said he at length, " I believe on 
 my soul you are not the son of Madame Gerdy." 
 
 "And you believe rightly!" answered the advocate 
 forcibly. " You think, do you not, that, after reading 
 these letters, I ought to have seen and questioned Clau- 
 dine? You will say this poor woman who nursed me 
 must have loved me ; that she must have suffered some 
 remorse for her part in the horrible injustice of which 
 I was the victim ? Well, I have seen her. I have ques- 
 tioned her; and she has confessed all. She was only 
 too glad to do so. The thought of her complicity tor- 
 mented her. It was a weight of guilt too heavy for her 
 age to bear ; and she told me all. The count's scheme, 
 simply and yet ingeniously conceived, succeeded with- 
 out any effort ; and I, poor helpless infant ! when but 
 three days old was thus betrayed, despoiled, and disin- 
 herited by my unnatural father and his unworthy mis- 
 tress. Poor Claudine! remorse was dragging her to 
 the grave ; and she promised me, with eagerness, her 
 testimony on the day I should reclaim my rights." 
 
 " And she has gone, carrying her secret with her," 
 murmured the old fellow in a tone of regret. 
 
 " I have yet," said Noel, " one hope. Claudine had
 
 70 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 in her possession several letters, written subsequently, 
 some by the Count, some by Madame Gerdy, letters 
 at once imprudent and explicit. They can be, without 
 question, recovered ; and their evidence will be decisive. 
 I have had them in my hands : I have read them. Clau- 
 dine would have given them to me ; but, fool that I was, 
 I did not take them." 
 
 The little hope that existed in that quarter no one 
 knew better than Pere Tabaret. To gain possession of 
 those very letters, the crime at Jonchere had been com- 
 mitted. The assassin had found and burned them, with 
 the other papers, in the little stove. The old amateur 
 was master of the situation. 
 
 " Knowing your affairs, my dear boy, almost as thor- 
 oughly as my own," said the old fellow* after another 
 pause, " I am surprised the count should have forgotten 
 the promises he made in his letters to Madame Gerdy, 
 of promoting your fortune." 
 
 " He seems never to have remembered them, my old 
 friend." 
 
 " That," cried the old fellow indignantly, " is even 
 more infamous than all the rest ! " 
 
 " Do not accuse my father," answered Noel gravely ; 
 " his liaison with Madame Gerdy ceased long ago. I 
 have a faint recollection of a distinguished looking man 
 who came to see me at school. I am now persuaded 
 it was the count. But the rupture came." 
 
 "Naturally," said Pere Tabaret. "A fane gentle- 
 man!" 
 
 " Suspend your judgment/' interrupted the advo- 
 cate. " M. de Commarin had good reason ; his mistress 
 deceived him. He discovered her perfidy, and cast her 
 off with just indignation. The ten lines of which I 
 have spoken were written then."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 71 
 
 Noel searched a considerable time among the papers 
 scattered upon the table, and at length selected a letter 
 more faded and creased than the others. Judging from 
 its appearance of having been often folded and un- 
 folded, it had been read over and over many times ; the 
 writing was almost effaced in many places. 
 
 " In this," said he in a bitter tone, " Madame Gerdy 
 is no longer ' adored Valerie.' " 
 
 " ' A cruel friend has, like a true friend, opened my 
 eyes. I doubted him, believing in you: but you have 
 been watched ; and to-day, unhappily, I can doubt no 
 more. You, Valerie, you to whom I have given more 
 than my life, you have deceived me, and have been de- 
 ceiving me long. Unhappy man that I am, I can 
 no longer be certain that I am the father of your child.' " 
 
 " But this letter is a proof," cried Pere Tabaret, " a 
 proof that cannot be overcome. Of what importance td 
 the count would be a doubt of his paternity, had he not 
 sacrificed his legitimate to his natural son? Yes, you 
 have said truly, my dear Noel, his chastisement has 
 been severe." 
 
 " Madame Gerdy," continued Noel, " attempted to 
 justify herself. She wrote to the count ; but he returned 
 her letters unopened. She tried to see him, but in vain : 
 he would not grant her an interview. She knew that all 
 was over when the count's steward brought her a legal 
 settlement of fifteen thousand francs a year. Her son 
 had taken my place ; and his mother had ruined me ! " 
 
 A light knock at the door of the study interrupted 
 their conversation. 
 
 " Who is there? " demanded Noel without stirring. 
 
 " Monsieur," answered the servant from outside the 
 door, " madame wishes to speak to you." 
 
 The advocate appeared to hesitate.
 
 72 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Go, my son," advised Pere Tabaret ; " do not be 
 merciless." 
 
 Noel arose with visible reluctance, and passed into 
 Madame Gerdy's sleeping apartment. 
 
 " Poor boy ! " thought Pere Tabaret when left alone. 
 " What a fatal discovery ! and how he must feel it. 
 Noble young man ! Brave, honest heart ! In his inno- 
 cent simplicity, he sees not from whence the blow has 
 fallen. By good fortune, I am not so blind. I can see 
 for him; and, when he despairs of justice, I am con- 
 fident of obtaining it. Thanks to his information, I 
 can see it all now. An infant's intelligence might now 
 divine whose hand struck the blow that silenced the 
 important witness. How singular that he should as- 
 sist the discovery of this crime without knowing it ! 
 How shall I proceed ? Ah ! if I could have one of those 
 letters for four and twenty hours. He probably has 
 counted them. I dare not ask for one ; I would be com- 
 pelled to acknowledge my connection with the police. 
 Better run the risk, and take one, no matter which, that 
 I may verify the writing." 
 
 Pere Tabaret had hardly thrust one of the letters into 
 the depths of one of his capacious pockets, when the ad- 
 vocate returned. 
 
 He was one of those men of strongly formed charac- 
 ter whose self-control never deserts them. He was long 
 accustomed to dissimulation, that indispensable armor 
 of the ambitious. 
 
 Nothing in his manner betrayed what had taken place 
 between Madame Gerdy and himself. He was abso- 
 lutely as calm as, when seated in his arm-chair, he lis- 
 tened to the interminable nothings of his clients. 
 
 " Well," demanded Pere Tabaret, " how is she 
 now?"
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 73 
 
 " Worse," answered Noel : " she is delirious. She 
 just now assailed me with the most injurious accusa- 
 tions, upbraiding me as the vilest of mankind. I am 
 persuaded she is out of her senses." 
 
 " Or losing them," murmured Pere Tabaret ; " and I 
 think you ought to call in a physician." 
 
 " I am going in search of one," answered Noel. 
 
 The advocate resumed his seat before his bureau, and 
 re-arranged, according to their dates, the scattered 
 letters. He seemed to have forgotten that he was 
 wanting advice from his old friend; nor did he 
 appear desirous of renewing the conversation. This 
 was the farthest in the world from Pere Tabaret's 
 intention. 
 
 " The more I ponder over your history, my dear 
 Noel," commenced he, " the more I am bewildered. I 
 do not know what resolution I should adopt, were I in 
 your situation." 
 
 " Yes, my old friend," answered the advocate, " it is a 
 situation that might well perplex more profound ex- 
 periences than yours." 
 
 The amateur repressed with difficulty the smile, which 
 for an instant appeared upon his lips. 
 
 " I confess it humbly," said he, taking pleasure in as- 
 suming an air of innocence. " But have you done any 
 thing yet? Your first move should have been to de- 
 mand an explanation of Madame Gerdy." 
 
 Noel made a startled movement, which was unno- 
 ticed by Pere Tabaret, pre-occupied as he was in trying 
 to give the turn he desired to the conversation. 
 
 " It was by that," answered Noel, " I began." 
 
 "Well, what did she say?" 
 
 " What could she say ? Was she not overwhelmed by 
 the discovery ? "
 
 74 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " What ! did she not attempt to exculpate herself ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," sneered Noel, " she attempted ; she is ac- 
 customed to attempt the impossible, of course. She pre- 
 tended to explain the correspondence. She told me, I 
 know not how many absurd falsehoods." 
 
 The advocate finished gathering up his letters, with- 
 out seeming to perceive the abstraction, tied them care- 
 fully, and replaced them in the secret drawer. 
 
 <? Yes," continued he, rising and shutting up his 
 bureau, as if trying by the movement to calm his anger, 
 " yes, she attempted to make me believe the exchange 
 had never taken place, no easy matter, considering the 
 proofs I hold. This is the occasion of her sickness. The 
 idea that her son, whom she adores, should be obliged to 
 restore to me the name and fortune of which he robbed 
 me broke her heart. She could see me suffer the most 
 cruel privations ; but she could not bear the thought of 
 her son's displacement. Rather than I should hurt a 
 hair of his head, she would consign me to the bottomless 
 pit." 
 
 " She has probably acquainted the count with your 
 discovery," said Pere Tabaret, pursuing his idea. 
 
 " Hardly ; for the count has been absent from Paris 
 more than a month, and is not expected to return until 
 the end of the week." 
 
 " How do you know that? " 
 
 " I called at the house, as I wished to see and speak 
 with him." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " Yes. Do you think I shall not reclaim my own ? Do 
 you imagine that I am the man to be robbed, spoiled, 
 and betrayed with impunity? No, I have rights; and 
 I shall make them good. What consideration with- 
 holds me from lifting up my voice and proclaiming my
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 75 
 
 wrongs? I shall claim my rights. Do you think that 
 surprising?" 
 
 " No, certainly, my friend ; then you have visited M. 
 de Commarin's house ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I did not adopt this resolution immediately," 
 continued Noel. " My discovery made me at first al- 
 most lose my senses. A thousand opposing sentiments 
 agitated me. At one moment, my fury blinded me ; the 
 next, my courage deserted me. I would, and I would 
 not. I was undecided, uncertain, wild. The eclat that 
 must be occasioned by the publicity of such an affair 
 terrified me. I longed to recover, I will recover my 
 name ; but I would at the same time preserve that noble 
 name from stain. I would, if possible, find a means of 
 conciliating all parties concerned, without publicity and 
 without scandal." 
 
 "You decided?" 
 
 " Yes, after a struggle of fifteen days, fifteen days 
 of torture, of anguish ! Ah ! what I suffered in that time ! 
 I neglected my business, being unable to fix my mind 
 upon any kind of work. During the day, I tried by 
 incessant action to fatigue my body, that at night I 
 might find forgetfulness in sleep. Vain hope: since T 
 found those ill-omened letters, I have not slept an hour." 
 
 From time to time, Pere Tabaret silently consulted 
 his watch. 
 
 " M. Daburon will be asleep," thought he. 
 
 " One morning," continued Noel, " after a night of 
 rage, I determined to end all uncertainty. I was in that 
 desperate state of mind, in which the gambler, after 
 successive losses, throws upon the board his last re- 
 maining coin. I called a carriage, and, with a beating 
 heart, gave the order, ' To the Hotel de Commarin, 
 Faubourg St. Germain.' "
 
 76 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The old amateur allowed a sigh of impatience to 
 escape him. 
 
 " It is one of the most magnificent houses in Paris," 
 continued Noel, " a princely dwelling, worthy the 
 representation of an illustrious family, almost a pal- 
 ace. Right and left of the vast courtyard are the stables, 
 where twenty horses of price are standing in reserve for 
 common use. At the back rises the grand facade of the 
 main building, majestic and severe, with its sculptured 
 pediment, its noble portico, and its double flight of 
 marble steps. Behind the house extends a large garden, 
 or rather a park, shaded by the oldest trees, perhaps, 
 in Paris." 
 
 This enthusiastic description sorely tested Pere Tab- 
 aret's patience ; but he did not venture to interrupt Noel 
 by a question. An indiscreet word might betray him, 
 and reveal his relation with the bureau of investigation. 
 
 " Standing before the dwelling of my ancestors," con- 
 tinued Noel, " you cannot comprehend the excess of 
 my emotion. Here, said I, is the house in which I Avas 
 born. This is the home in which I should have been 
 reared; and, above all, this is the spot where I should 
 reign to-day, whereon I stand an outcast and a stranger, 
 devoured by the sad and bitter memories, of which ban- 
 ished men have died. I compared my brother's brill- 
 iant destinies with my sad and laborious career ; and my 
 indignation well nigh overmastered reason. The mad 
 impulse stirred me to force the doors, to rush into the 
 grand salon, and drive out the intruder, the son of 
 Madame Gerdy, who has taken the place of the son 
 of the Countess de Commarin! Out, usurper, out of 
 this. I am the master here. The propriety of legal 
 means at once recurred to my distracted mind, however, 
 and restrained me. Once more I stood before the habi-
 
 77 
 
 tation of my fathers. How I love its old sculptures, its 
 grand old trees, its shaded walks, worn by the feet of 
 my poor mother! I love all, even to the proud es- 
 cutcheon, frowning above the principal doorway, fling- 
 ing its defiance to the theories of this age of levellers." 
 
 This last phrase conflicted so directly with the code 
 of opinions habitual to Noel, that Pere Tabaret was 
 obliged to turn aside, to conceal his amusement. 
 
 " Poor humanity ! '' thought he ; " he is already the 
 grand seigneur." 
 
 " On presenting myself," continued the advocate, " I 
 demanded to see the Count de Commarin. A Swiss por- 
 ter, in grand livery, answered, the count was traveling, 
 but that the viscount was at home. This ran counter to 
 my designs ; but I was embarked ; so I insisted on speak- 
 ing to the son in default of the father. The Swiss por- 
 ter stared at me with astonishment. He had evidently 
 seen me alight from a hired carriage, and so deliber- 
 ated for some moments as to whether I was not too in- 
 significant a person to have the honor of being admitted 
 to visit the viscount." 
 
 " But tell me, have you seen him ? " asked Pere 
 Tabaret, unable to restrain his impatience. 
 
 " Of course, immediately," replied the advocate in a 
 tone of bitter raillery. " Could the examination, think 
 you, result otherwise than in my favor? No. My white 
 cravat and black costume produced their natural effect. 
 The Swiss porter entrusted me to the guidance of a 
 chasseur with a plumed hat, who, leading me across 
 the court to a superb vestibule, transferred me to the 
 care of a lackey ; who, in company with five or six 
 others, was lolling upon a bench. This fine gentleman 
 led me up a spacious staircase, wide enough for a car- 
 riage to ascend, and preceded me along an extensive
 
 78 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 picture gallery, guided me across a vast apartment, of 
 which the furniture was shrouded in sombre coverings, 
 and finally delivered me into the hands of the valet de 
 chambre of Albert de Commarin; that is to say, the 
 man who bears my name." 
 
 " I understand, I understand." 
 
 " I had passed an inspection ; now I had to undergo 
 an examination. M. Albert's valet desired to be in- 
 formed who I was, whence I came, and what I wanted, 
 what was my profession, and all the rest. I answered 
 simply, that I was unknown to the viscount ; but it was 
 absolutely necessary I should converse with him for five 
 minutes upon an affair of the most urgent nature. I 
 waited more than a quarter of an hour, when he reap- 
 peared. His master had graciously deigned to receive 
 me." 
 
 It was easy to perceive that his reception rankled in 
 the advocate's breast. He could not forgive Albert his 
 lackeys and his valet de chambre. He forgot the words 
 of the illustrious duke, who said, " I pay my valets for 
 being insolent, to save myself the trouble." Pere Ta- 
 baret was a little surprised at his young friend's bitter- 
 ness, in speaking of these trivial details. 
 
 " Can it be true," thought he, " that the arrogance of 
 lackeys is the secret of the people's hatred of the aris- 
 tocracy ? " 
 
 " I was ushered into a small salon," continued Noel, 
 " simply furnished, the only ornaments of which were 
 weapons. These, ranged against the walls, were of all 
 times and countries. Never have I seen in so small a 
 space so many muskets, arquebusses, pistols, swords, 
 sabres, and foils: one might have imagined himself in 
 the arsenal of a maitre de armes."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 79 
 
 The weapon used by the Widow Lerouge's assassin 
 naturally recurred to the old fellow's memory. 
 
 " The viscount," continued Noel, speaking slowly, 
 " was half lying on the divan when I entered. He was 
 dressed in a jacket and pantaloons of velvet, and had 
 around his neck an immense scarf of white silk. I do 
 not cherish resentment against this young man. He 
 has never to his knowledge injured me. He had no 
 share in his parent's crime. I am therefore able to speak 
 of him with justice. He is handsome, has a noble air, 
 and carries gracefully the name which does not belong 
 to him. He is about my height, of the same brown 
 complexion, and would resemble me, perhaps, if he did 
 not wear a beard. Yet he appears at least five years 
 younger; but this is readily explained, he has neither 
 worked nor suffered. He is one of the fortunate ones of 
 the earth, who traverse life's road on such soft cushions 
 that they are never injured by the jolting of the car- 
 riage. On seeing me, he arose and saluted me gra- 
 ciously." 
 
 " You must have been dreadfully excited." 
 
 " Less than I am at this moment : remember, I was 
 fifteen days preparing for this interview; and fifteen 
 days of mental torture exhausts one's emotions. I an- 
 swered the question I saw upon his lips. ' Monsieur,' 
 said I, ' you do not know me ; but that is of little con- 
 sequence. I come to you, charged with a very grave, a 
 very sad mission, which not only interests you, but 
 touches the honor of the name you bear.' Without doubt 
 he did not believe me ; for, in a tone of the coolest im- 
 pertinence, he asked me, 'Shall you be long?' I an- 
 swered as coolly, ' Yes.' " 
 
 " Pray," said Pere Tabaret, becoming very attentive,
 
 8o THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " do not omit a single detail ; it may be very important, 
 you understand." 
 
 " The viscount," continued Noel, " appeared much 
 disquieted. At length he said courteously, ' My time is 
 hardly at my own disposal this morning. I am at this 
 hour engaged to call upon my fiancee, Mademoiselle 
 d'Arlanges. Can we not postpone this conversation ? ' ' 
 
 " Good ! another woman," said the old fellow to him- 
 self. 
 
 " I answered the viscount, that an explanation would 
 admit of no delay; and, as I saw him prepare to dis- 
 miss me, I drew from my pocket the count's correspond- 
 ence, and presented to him one of the letters. On rec- 
 ognizing his father's handwriting, he became more 
 tractable, declared himself at my service, and demanded 
 permission to write a word of apology to the lady by 
 whom he was expected. Having written the note 
 hastily, he handed it to his valet, and ordered him to 
 send it to Mademoiselle d'Arlanges immediately; then, 
 opening the door of the adjoining apartment, his li- 
 brary, he requested me to enter." 
 
 " One word," interrupted the old fellow ; " was he 
 troubled on seeing the letters ? " 
 
 " Not the least in the world. After closing the door, 
 he handed me a chair, and, seating himself, said, ' Now, 
 monsieur, explain yourself.' I was fully prepared for 
 the situation, and decided to strike a grand coup. 
 
 " ' Monsieur,' said I, ' my mission is painful. The 
 facts I am about to reveal to you are incredible. I be- 
 seech you, do not interrupt me, and do not answer me 
 until you have read the letters I am about to show 
 you.' He regarded me with an air of extreme surprise, 
 and answered, ' Speak ! I can hear all.' I stood up. 
 ' Monsieur,' said I, ' I must inform you that you are
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 81 
 
 not the legitimate son of M. de Commarin, as this cor- 
 respondence will prove to you. The legitimate son ex- 
 ists ; and he it is who sends me.' I kept my eyes on his 
 while speaking; and I saw there a passing gleam of 
 fury : for a moment I expected he was about to spring 
 at my throat. He spoke quickly. ' The letters,' said he 
 in a short tone. I handed them to him." 
 
 " How," cried Pere Tabaret, " these letters the true 
 ones ? How imprudent ! " 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 "If he had I don't know; but " the old fellow 
 hesitated. The advocate leaned his powerful hand upon 
 the old man's shoulder. 
 
 " I was there," said he in a hollow tone ; " and I prom- 
 ise you the letters were in no danger." 
 
 Noel's features assumed such a sudden expression of 
 ferocity that the old fellow was terrified, and recoiled in- 
 stinctively. 
 
 " He would have killed him," thought he. 
 
 The advocate resumed. 
 
 "That which I have done for you this evening, my 
 friend, I did for the viscount. I obviated, at least for 
 the moment the necessity of reading all of these hun- 
 dred and fifty-six letters, by directing his attention to 
 those marked with a cross, and to the passages of most 
 especial importance, indicated with a red pencil." 
 
 " It was an abridgement of his penance," said Pere 
 Tabaret. 
 
 " He was seated," continued Noel, " before a little 
 table, too fragile even to lean upon. I was resting 
 against the mantelpiece. I followed his slightest move- 
 ments ; and I scanned his features closely. Never in my 
 life have I seen so sad a spectacle. I shall never forget 
 it, were I to live a thousand years. In less than five min-
 
 82 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 utes his face changed to a degree that his own valet 
 would not have recognized him. He held his handker- 
 chief in his hand, with which from time to time me- 
 chanically he wiped his lips; and, as he read, the lips 
 became as white as the handkerchief. Large drops of 
 sweat stood upon his forehead; and his eyes became 
 dull and clouded, as if a film had covered them : but not 
 an exclamation, not a sign, not a groan, escaped him, 
 not even a gesture. At one moment, I felt such pity 
 for him that I was almost on the point of snatching the 
 letters from his hands, throwing them into the fire, and 
 taking him in my arms, crying, ' No, you are my 
 brother! Forget all; let us remain each one in his 
 place ! Let us love one another.' " 
 
 Pere Tabaret took Noel's hand, and pressed it. 
 " Ah ! " cried he, " I recognize my generous boy." 
 " If I have not done this, my friend, it is because I 
 said to myself, ' These letters burned, would he recog- 
 nize me as his brother ? ' ! 
 
 " Ay ! " sighed Pere Tabaret, " it is true." 
 " In about half an hour, he had finished reading : he 
 arose, and facing me directly, said, ' You are right, mon- 
 sieur. If these letters are really written by my father, as 
 I believe them to be, they distinctly prove that I am not 
 the son of the Countess de Commarin.' I did not an- 
 swer. ' Meanwhile/ continued he, ' these are only pre- 
 sumptions. Are you possessed of other proofs ? ' I ex- 
 pected, of course, a great many other objections. ' Ger- 
 main,' said I, ' can speak.' He told me that Germain had 
 been dead for several years. Then I spoke of the nurse, 
 the Widow Lerouge. I explained how easily she could 
 be found and questioned, adding that she lived at la 
 Jonchere."
 
 83 
 
 " And what said he, Noel, to this ? " demanded Pere 
 Tabaret anxiously. 
 
 " He preserved a moment's silence, and appeared to 
 reflect. All on a sudden he struck his forehead, and 
 said, ' I remember ; I know her. I have accompanied 
 my father to her house three times, and have seen him 
 give her considerable sums of money.' " 
 
 " I remarked to him that this was yet another proof. 
 He made no answer, but went out as if to look for 
 something in the adjoining room. He returned after 
 some minutes, 
 
 " ' Monsieur, said he, can I meet the legitimate son of 
 the count, my father ? ' I answered, ' You see him be- 
 fore you, monsieur ! ' He bowed his head, and mur- 
 mured, ' I knew it was he.' He took my hand, and 
 added, ' Brother, I bear you no grudge for the step you 
 have taken. All I ask of you is, to wait eight or ten 
 days, when my father will return. I will explain every 
 thing to him; and I promise you that justice shall be 
 done. I, on my side, lose everything, name, position, 
 fortune, and, worse than all, I shall probably lose rny 
 plighted bride, Mademoiselle d'Arlanges, who is dearer 
 to me than life itself. In exchange, it is true I shall find 
 a mother. I will labor to console her for your loss, 
 monsieur, and win her love by tenderness and devo- 
 tion.' " 
 
 " Did he really say that ? " 
 
 " Almost word for word." 
 
 " Hypocrite ! " growled the old fellow between his 
 teeth. 
 
 " What did you say ? " asked Noel. 
 
 " I say that he is a fine young man ; and I shall be 
 delighted to make his acquaintance."
 
 84 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " I did not show him the letter referring to the rup- 
 ture," added Noel ; " so that he is ignorant of Madame 
 Gerdy's misconduct. I voluntarily deprived myself of 
 this proof, rather than give him further pain." 
 
 " And now ? " 
 
 " What am I to do ? I am waiting the count's return. 
 I shall act more freely after hearing what he has to say. 
 To-morrow I shall demand permission from the tribu- 
 nals to examine the papers belonging to Claudine. If I 
 find the letters, I am saved ; if not, but, as I have told 
 you, I have taken no step since I knew of this assassi- 
 nation. Now, what is your advice ? " 
 
 " The briefest counsel demands long reflection," re- 
 plied the old fellow, who was in haste to depart. " Alas ! 
 my poor boy, what a fate yours has been ! " 
 
 " Terrible ! and, in addition to all this distraction, I 
 have pecuniary embarrassments." 
 
 "How! you who spend nothing?" 
 
 " I have advanced large sums on mortgages. I might 
 make use of Madame Gerdy's fortune, which I have 
 hitherto used as my own ; but no, I could not bring my- 
 self to it." 
 
 " You certainly ought not ; but hold ! I am glad you 
 spoke of money : you can render me a service." 
 
 " Very willingly ; in what way ? " 
 
 " I have in my secretary twelve or fifteen thousand 
 francs, which trouble me exceedingly, you can easily un- 
 derstand why. I am an old man, weak and defenceless. 
 If any one knew I had this money " 
 
 " You are certainly imprudent in running such a 
 risk," acknowledged the advocate. 
 
 " Then," said the old fellow, " to-morrow I will give 
 them to you to take care of." 
 
 But remembering he was about to put himself at M.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 85 
 
 Daburon's disposal, and that perhaps he might not be 
 free on the morrow, he said, 
 
 " But no, I will not wait until to-morrow. This in- 
 fernal money shall not remain another night in my 
 keeping." 
 
 He darted out, and presently reappeared, holding in 
 his hand fifteen bank bills of a thousand francs each. 
 
 " If that is not sufficient for the present," said he, 
 handing them to Noel, " you can have more." 
 
 " I will give you a receipt," said the advocate. 
 
 " Time enough to-morrow." 
 
 "And if I die to-night?" 
 
 " Then," said the old fellow to himself, thinking of 
 his will, " some one else will have to be my heir. Good- 
 night ! " said he aloud : " you have asked my advice ; 
 I shall require the night for reflection. At present my 
 brain is whirling ; I must go out into the air. If I go to 
 bed now, I shall have a horrible nightmare. Good-night, 
 my boy ; patience and courage. Who knows whether at 
 this very hour Providence is not working for you ? " 
 
 He went out ; and Noel, leaving his door open, 
 listened to the sound of his footsteps as he descended the 
 stairs. Almost immediately the cry of, " Open, if you 
 please," and the banging of the door apprised him that 
 Pere Tabaret was in the street. 
 
 He waited a few minutes and refilled his lamp, then 
 took a small packet from one of his bureau drawers, 
 slipped into his pockets the bank bills given him by his 
 old friend, and quitted his study, of which he locked the 
 door. On the landing of the staircase he paused. He 
 listened so intently that even Madame Gerdy's moans 
 were audible to him. Hearing nothing else, he descended 
 on tiptoe. A minute later he was in the street.
 
 86 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 COMMUNICATING with Madame Gerdy's apartments 
 was a room on the ground floor, formerly a coach house, 
 but used by her as a lumber room. Here were heaped 
 together all the old rubbish of the household, utensils 
 past service, articles become useless or cumbrous. Here 
 were also stored the provision of wood and coal for win- 
 ter fuel. 
 
 This old coach house had a small door opening on the 
 street, which had been nailed up many years ago ; but 
 Noel had secretly repaired this door, provided it with 
 a lock, of which he kept the key, and by its means was 
 enabled to enter or leave the house at any hour, without 
 the porter's knowledge. 
 
 By this door the advocate went out, using the utmost 
 caution in opening and closing it. 
 
 When in the street, he remained a moment stationary, 
 as if hesitating which way to go. Then, turning his 
 steps towards the railway depot of St. Lazare, he hailed 
 a passing cab. 
 
 " Rue Faubourg Montmarte, at the corner of the Rue 
 Provence, and make haste," said Noel, entering the ve- 
 hicle. 
 
 At the spot named, the advocate alighted, and dis- 
 missed his coachman. Waiting until he had departed, 
 Noel turned into the Rue Provence, and, after walking 
 a few steps, rang the door-bell of one of the handsomest 
 houses in the street. 
 
 The door was immediately opened. 
 
 When Noel passed before the loge, the porter made 
 him a bow, at once respectful and patronizing, one of
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 87 
 
 those salutations which Parisian porters reserve for pa- 
 trons of open hands and well-filled purses. 
 
 Arrived at the second floor, the advocate paused, 
 drew a key from his pocket, and entered as if at home. 
 
 At the sound of the key in the lock, a young and 
 pretty waiting woman, with a bold pair of eyes, ran 
 towards him. 
 
 " Ah, monsieur ! " cried she. 
 
 This exclamation escaped her just loud enough to be 
 audible at the extremity of the apartment, and serve as 
 a signal, if needed. It was as if she cried, " Take care ! " 
 Noel did not seem to remark it. 
 
 " Madame is there ? " asked he. 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, and very angry, too, I can tell you. 
 This morning she wanted me to go in search of you. A 
 little while ago, she spoke of going herself. I have had 
 much difficulty, monsieur, in not disobeying your or- 
 ders." 
 
 " Very well," said the advocate. 
 
 " Madame is in the smoking room," continued the 
 soubrette. " I am making her a cup of tea. Will mon- 
 sieur have one ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Noel, " light me, Charlotte." 
 
 They passed through successively a magnificent din- 
 ing room, a splendid salon dore in the style of Louis the 
 XIV., and entered the smoking room. 
 
 This was a rather large apartment, of which the 
 ceiling was remarkably elevated. On entering it, the 
 visitor might easily imagine himself three, thousand 
 miles from Paris, in the house of some opulent manda- 
 rin of the celestial empire of China. Furniture, carpets, 
 hangings, pictures, all had evidently been imported di- 
 rect from Hongkong or Shanghai. 
 
 A rick silk tapestry, representing highly colored fig-
 
 88 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ures, clothed the walls and hung before the doors. All 
 the empire of the sun and moon there defiled before the 
 spectator. Corpulent mandarins, disported themselves 
 in vermilion landscapes, or, surrounded by lanterns, lay 
 stupefied with opium, sleeping under their parasols. 
 Young girls, with almond shaped eyes elevated at the 
 outer corners, stumbled upon their diminutive feet, 
 swathed in bandalettes. 
 
 The carpet of a tissue, the secret of which is unknown 
 in Europe, was strewn with fruits and flowers, whose 
 perfect resemblance to natural objects might have de- 
 ceived a bee. On the silken canopy, which hid the ceil- 
 ing, some great artist of Pekin had painted fantastic 
 birds, opening on a ground of azure their wings of pur- 
 ple and of gold. 
 
 Slender rods of lacquer, encrusted with mother of 
 pearl, held the draperies in place, and marked the an- 
 gles of the apartment. 
 
 Two fantastic chests occupied one side of the room. 
 Furniture of capricious and incoherent forms, tables 
 with porcelain tops, and chiffoniers of precious woods 
 encumbered every recess or angle. 
 
 Then there were ornamental nic-nacs, purchased in 
 the bazars of Lien Tsi, le Tahan, from Sou-Tcheou, the 
 artistic city, a thousand curiosities impossible and ex- 
 pensive, from the ivory chop stick, which take the place 
 of our forks, to the tea-cups of porcelain, thinner than 
 soap bubbles, miracles of the reign of Kien Loung. 
 
 A divan, very large and very low, piled up with 
 cushions covered with tapestry similar to the hangings, 
 ran along the back of the room. There was no window ; 
 but instead a large looking-glass, reaching from floor 
 to ceiling, was let into the wall, in front of which was 
 a double door of glass with movable panes. The space
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 89 
 
 between this glass door and the mirror was filled with 
 plants and rare exotics; which, being reflected in the 
 mirror, presented the optical illusion of a conserva- 
 tory. 
 
 The absent fireplace and chimney was replaced by 
 registers adroitly concealed, which maintained a tem- 
 perature in the apartment that seemed to make the flow- 
 ers blow upon the silk, truly harmonizing with the fur- 
 nishing of this luxurious abode. 
 
 When Noel entered, a young woman was lying on 
 the divan, smoking a cigarette. In spite of the tropical 
 heat, she was enveloped in great shawls of magnificent 
 cashmere. 
 
 She was petite, and united in her small figure all the 
 physical beauties in such perfection as only small women 
 can. Women who are above the medium height are 
 either essays, or errors of nature. If handsome, they in- 
 variably present some defect ; like the work of a sculp- 
 tor, whose faults, unnoticed when presented in a statu- 
 ette, become glaring when exhibited in a colossal fig- 
 ure. 
 
 She was small ; but her neck, her shoulders, and her 
 arms had the most exquisite contours. Her hands, small 
 and plump, even to the retrousse finger tips and rosy 
 nails, were of marvellous beauty, and seemed preciously 
 cared for. Her feet, encased in silken stockings almost 
 as thin as a cobweb, were a marvel; not that they re- 
 called the fabled foot which Cinderella thrust into the 
 glassy slipper; but that other foot, more real, more 
 palpable, though less celebrated, of which the fair 
 owner (the wife of a well-known banker) used to pre- 
 sent the model to her admirers in bronze or in marble. 
 
 Her face was not beautiful, nor even pretty : but her 
 features were such as one never forgets ; for, at the first
 
 90 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 glance, they startled the beholder like a flash of light- 
 ning. Her forehead was a little high, and her mouth 
 unmistakably large, notwithstanding the provoking 
 freshness of her lips. Her eyebrows seemed to have 
 been drawn with Chinese ink ; but, unhappily the pencil 
 had been used too heavily; and they gave her an un- 
 pleasant expression when she frowned. In revenge for 
 these defects, her smooth complexion had a rich golden 
 pallor; and her black and velvety eyes possessed enor- 
 mous magnetic power. Her teeth were sound and of a 
 pearly brilliancy and whiteness; and her hair, of pro- 
 digious opulence, was black and waving, and glossy as 
 a raven's wing. 
 
 On perceiving Noel, as he drew aside the silken cur- 
 tain which served as a door, she half-arose and leaned 
 upon her elbow. 
 
 " So you have come at last ? " said she in a tone of 
 vexation : " we ought to be very happy ! " 
 
 The advocate was almost suffocated by the oppressive 
 temperature of the room. 
 
 " How warm it is ! " said he ; " it is enough to stifle 
 one!" 
 
 " Do you find it warm ? " replied the young woman. 
 " Well, that shows the extent of my suffering ! I am 
 shivering : but it's your fault ; you know that waiting is 
 insupportable to me. It acts upon my nerves ; and I have 
 waited for you since yesterday." 
 
 " It has been impossible for me to come," said Noel, 
 " impossible ! " 
 
 " You know perfectly well," continued the lady, " that 
 to-day was my settling day; and I have had quite a 
 number of bills to pay. The upholsterer came. Not a 
 sou to give him. The coachmaker sent his bill. No 
 money : call again ! then this old swindler who holds my
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 91 
 
 note for three thousand francs, he has been here, mak- 
 ing a frightful row ! All this is agreeable, is it not ? " 
 
 Noel bowed his head like a truant school-boy, under- 
 going the pedagogue's rebuke. 
 
 " It is but one day behind," murmured he. 
 
 " One day behind ! " retorted the young woman ; 
 "and is that nothing? A man who respects himself 
 may permit his own note to be protested, if he will ; but 
 that of his mistress, never ! " 
 
 " For what do you take me ? " continued she, working 
 herself into a passion. " Do you forget that I receive no 
 consideration from you except money ? Very well, since 
 I am to have nothing else, I will have that at all events ; 
 and the day it is not forthcoming, I bid you good-by." 
 
 " My dear Juliette ! " began the advocate, gently. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! that's all very fine ; but I have heard it all 
 before," interrupted she. " Your dear Juliette ! your 
 adored Juliette! and, as long as you are face to face 
 with Juliette, she is an angel, if she would allow you to 
 make a fool of her : but, no sooner have you turned your 
 back upon Juliette, than she is given to the winds ; and 
 you never take the trouble even to remember that there 
 is such a pers6n as Juliette ! " 
 
 "How unjust you are!" replied Noel. "As if you 
 are not well assured that I am always thinking of you. 
 Have I not proved it to you a thousand times ? Hold ! I 
 am going to prove it to you again this instant." 
 
 So saying, he 1 produced the small packet he had taken 
 from his bureau, and, opening it, showed her a hand- 
 some velvet casket. 
 
 " See ! " said he, exultitigly, " the bracelet you wished 
 for so much, eight days ago, at M. Beaugrau's." 
 
 Madame Juliette, without rising, held out her hand 
 to take the jewel case, and, opening it with the utmost
 
 92 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 nonchalance, glanced at the magnificent bauble; then, 
 closing the casket, she threw it carelessly upon a little 
 table near her, saying, 
 
 " It looked much prettier in the shop window." 
 " I am unfortunate, this evening," said the advocate, 
 apparently much mortified at the reception of his costly 
 present. 
 
 " Unfortunate, my friend? Indeed, how so? " 
 " I see plainly the bracelet does not please you." 
 " Oh, yes ! it is very pretty ; at all events, it will com- 
 plete the two dozen." 
 
 At this Noel almost lost patience: but he controlled 
 himself; and, as she was silent, he went on, 
 " You exhibit little sign of gratification." 
 " Oh ! indeed ! " cried the lady. " I am not grateful 
 enough ! I am not sufficiently profuse in my acknow- 
 ledgments, to please my generous benefactor? You 
 bring me a present, and expect instant payment. I am 
 to fill the house with cries of joy, and throw myself 
 upon my knees before your feet, calling you a great and 
 magnificent seigneur ! " 
 
 Noel was unable this time to restrain a gesture of im- 
 patience; which Juliette perceived plainly enough, to 
 her great delight. 
 
 " Is that sufficient ? " continued she. " Or must I call 
 Charlotte to admire this superb monument of your gen- 
 erosity ? Shall I run down stairs to exhibit it to the por- 
 ter? shall I go into the kitchen and dazzle the eyes of my 
 cook, and ask her if I ought not to be happy in the pos- 
 session of a lover so unboundedly munificent ? " 
 
 The advocate raised his shoulders like a philosopher, 
 unable to answer the jests of a child. 
 
 " A truce to these cutting witticisms," said he, " If
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 93 
 
 you have any complaint against me, better to say so 
 simply and seriously." 
 
 " So be it," said Juliette, quickly, changing her man- 
 ner. " Let us be serious. And, being so, let me tell you 
 it would have been better to have forgotten the bracelet, 
 and remembered the eight thousand francs of which I 
 have such pressing need." 
 
 " I could not come." 
 
 " You might send ; there are messengers at the street- 
 corners." 
 
 " If I have neither brought nor sent them, my dear 
 Juliette, it was because I did not have the amount. I 
 have trouble enough in getting a promise of it to-mor- 
 row. If I have the sum this evening, I owe it to a 
 chance upon which I could not have counted an hour 
 ago ; and I have brought it to you to-night, at the risk 
 of compromising myself." 
 
 " Poor man ! " said Juliette, in a tone of pity ; then 
 incredulously, " do you dare to tell me you have had 
 difficulty in finding ten thousand francs, you ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Noel, calmly, " I ! " 
 
 The young woman looked at her lover, and burst into 
 a fit of laughter. 
 
 " You are superb in the role of poor young man ! " 
 said Juliette scornfully. 
 
 " It is not a role," said Noel stolidly. 
 
 " What do you. say ? " exclaimed she ; " but I see 
 what we are coming to. This amiable confession is the 
 preface. To-morrow you will be very much embar- 
 rassed ; and the day after to-morrow you will be ruined ! 
 Avarice is the name of the complaint that afflicts you, 
 my friend. Do you not feel a pang of remorse for all the 
 money you have lavished upon me ? " 
 
 "Selfish woman ! " murmured Noel, angrily.
 
 94 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 *' Truly," continued the lady, " I pity you, unfortu- 
 nate lover! Shall I get up a subscription for you? In 
 your place, I should issue an appeal to the benevolent." 
 
 Noel lost his temper, in spite of his resolution. 
 
 " You think it a laughing matter? " asked he bitterly. 
 " Well, understand me, Juliette ; I am at the end of my 
 expedients. I have exhausted my resources! I am 
 ruined ! " 
 
 The eyes of the young woman brightened. She re- 
 garded her lover tenderly. 
 
 " Oh, if 'twas only true ! " said she. " If I could only 
 believe you ! " 
 
 The advocate was wounded to the heart. 
 
 " She believes me," thought he ; " and she is glad : she 
 detests me." 
 
 He was deceived. Madame Juliette never loved him 
 so well as at that moment. The idea that he had loved 
 her to the extent of ruining himself for her, without' 
 even a reproach for her extravagance, almost trans- 
 ported her with joy. It was but for a moment, however. 
 She became immediately incredulous. The expression 
 of her eyes changed quickly. 
 
 " What a fool you must think me, to come with your 
 romantic stories of ruin, and expect me to believe them ! 
 No, no, my friend; such men as you do not ruin them- 
 selves. It is your vain young coxcombs and your 
 drivelling old dotards who ruin themselves for their 
 mistresses. You are a very gay young spark; but you 
 never lose your senses. You are very grave and prudent, 
 and, above all, very strong." 
 
 " Not with you," murmured Noel. 
 
 " Pshaw ! then leave me alone. You know well what 
 you are about. Instead of a heart, you have a calculating
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 95 
 
 machine. You have taken a fancy to me, and appraised 
 me. You have said to yourself, ' I can afford to pay this 
 passion so much ; ' and you hold yourself to your word. 
 It is an investment, like any other, in which one re- 
 ceives a certain amount of interest agreed upon. You 
 are capable of all the folly and extravagance in the 
 world that does not go beyond your limit of four thou- 
 sand francs a month ! If it runs twenty sous over the 
 amount fixed, you take up your heart and your hat, and 
 carry them somewhere else." 
 
 " It is true," answered Noel, coolly. " I know how to 
 count; and that accomplishment is very useful to me 
 now, since it enables me to know how and where I have 
 spent my fortune." 
 
 " Do you really know ? " sneered Juliette. 
 
 " And I can tell you," continued he. " At first, you 
 were not exacting; but the appetite came with eating. 
 You wished for luxury ; you had it ; splendid furniture ; 
 I gave it: extravagant toilettes, a house in the Rue 
 Provence, with a marble staircase in front, a carriage, a 
 pair of English horses : I responded, I denied you noth- 
 ing. You had every thing you desired. I speak not of a 
 thousand fantasies. I include neither this Chinese cabi- 
 net nor the two dozen bracelets. The total is four hun- 
 dred thousand francs ! " 
 
 " Are you sure ? " 
 
 " As one can be who has had that, amount, and has 
 it no longer." 
 
 " Four hundred thousand francs, just? Are there no 
 centimes ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " There, my dear friend, I will present you with the 
 bills duly receipted ; and you will be satisfied."
 
 96 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The entrance of the waiting woman with the tea-tray 
 interrupted this amorous duet, of which Noel had ex- 
 perienced more than one repetition. 
 
 Madame Juliette Chaffour was a Parisienne. She 
 was born about 1839, in the highest apartment of a 
 house in the Faubourg Montmarte. Her mother was a 
 beauty of some note in her day. Her father was un- 
 known. Her infancy was a long alternation of beatings 
 and caresses, equally furious ; and she was fed on sugar 
 plums, sour wine, and damaged fruit: so that her 
 stomach was as depraved as her intelligence. At twelve 
 years old, she was meagre as a nail, and green as a June 
 apple ; and, as for her mental training, a strict moralist 
 would have considered her a precocious little wretch, 
 totally destitute of principle. 
 
 As- she gave no promise of beauty, she was placed in 
 a store, to study the art and mystery of selling ribbons 
 and laces ; when a wealthy and highly respectable gen- 
 tleman, an old friend of her mamma's many years ago, 
 accorded her his protection. This prudent old gen- 
 tleman was a connoisseur, and detected the promise of 
 charms, where others saw only indications of ugliness. 
 He sent his protege to a school, to receive a varnish of 
 education. Here she learned to read and write very 
 badly, to play the piano tolerably, and to waltz to such 
 perfection that she turned the head of a foreign am- 
 bassador, whom her old protector brought to see her at 
 one of his visits. 
 
 When the old gentleman came to take her from the 
 seminary, he found she had been taken away already, 
 by a young artist, who offered her half of every thing 
 he possessed ; that is to say. nothing. At the end of three 
 months, she quitted the studio of her artistic admirer,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 97 
 
 with her entire wardrobe tied up in a cotton pocket 
 handkerchief. 
 
 During the four years which followed, she led a pre- 
 carious existence, sometimes with little else to live 
 upon but Hope, which never wholly abandons a young 
 girl who knows she has good eyes. By turns she sunk 
 to the bottom, and again rose to the surface of the 
 stream down which she was being carried. But she was 
 reckless and imprudent. Twice had fortune in fresh 
 gloves come knocking at her door ; and she had not the 
 sense to seize him by the skirt of his paletot. 
 
 With the assistance of a captain of a coasting vessel, 
 she managed to get an appearance at a small theatre, 
 and acquitted herself adroitly enough in the trifling 
 roles entrusted to her; when Noel, by the merest acci- 
 dent, encountered her. He loved her; and she became 
 his mistress. 
 
 The advocate did not displease her at first. She ad- 
 mired him for his polite manners, his distinguished air, 
 his learning, his knowledge of the world, his contempt 
 for all that was unworthy, and, above all, for his un- 
 alterable patience, which nothing could tire. Soon, how- 
 ever, she began to discover qualities to her less admira- 
 ble. He was > not amusing. He never made her laugh. 
 He absolutely refused to accompany her to any of the 
 numerous places of amusement where gaiety puts on 
 her holiday garb and laughter reigns supreme. For ab- 
 solute lack of employment, she began to squander 
 money ; and, in proportion to the gratification of her ex- 
 travagant desires and the sacrifices made by her lover, 
 her aversion to him increased. 
 
 She rendered him the most miserable of men, and 
 treated him like a very dog; and this not from natural
 
 98 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 badness of disposition, but from a firm belief in the pre- 
 cept, the only one ever taught her by her mamma, 
 that a woman is beloved in proportion to the trouble she 
 causes and the mischief she does. 
 
 Juliette was not wicked; and she believed she had 
 much to complain of. The dream of her life was to be 
 loved in a way which she felt, but could scarcely have 
 explained. She had never -been to her lover more than a 
 plaything. She understood this; and, as she was 
 naturally proud, the idea enraged her. She dreamed of 
 a lover who would be devoted enough to make a real 
 sacrifice for her, who would descend to her level, in- 
 stead of attempting to raise her to his. She despaired 
 of meeting such a man. 
 
 Noel's extravagance, instead of melting her heart, 
 hardened it. She believed he was very rich, and actually 
 resented his liberality as the insolence of wealth; for, 
 strange to say, in spite of her extravagance, she cared 
 little for money. Noel would have been an immense 
 gainer by an outspoken frankness that would have 
 shown her clearly his situation. He lost her love by 
 the delicacy of his dissimulation, that left her ignorant 
 of the sacrifices he was making for her. 
 
 Noel adored Juliette. Until the fatal day he saw her, 
 he had been a sage, a model of prudence and integrity. 
 This, his first and only passion, burned him up; and, 
 from the disaster, he saved only appearances. The four 
 walls remained standing ; but the interior of the edifice 
 was destroyed. Even heroes have their vulnerable parts. 
 Achilles was wounded in the heel. The most artfully 
 constructed armor has a joint somewhere. By Juliette, 
 Noel was assailable; and her entrance made way for 
 every thing. For her, in four years, this model young 
 man, this advocate of the immaculate reputation, this
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 99 
 
 austere moralist, had wasted not only his own fortune, 
 but Madame Gerdy's also. 
 
 He loved Juliette madly, without reflection, without 
 measure, with his eyes shut. Near her, he forgot all pru- 
 dence, and became reckless of consequences. In her 
 boudoir, he dropped his mask of habitual dissimula- 
 tion, and his vices displayed themselves at ease, as his 
 limbs in a bath. 
 
 He felt himself so powerless against her that he never 
 essayed to struggle. She possessed him. Once or twice 
 he had attempted to firmly oppose her caprices ; but she 
 had made him pliable as the osier. Under the dark 
 glances of this girl, his strongest resolutions melted 
 more quickly than snow beneath the April sun. She 
 tortured him ; but she had also the power to repay him 
 for all, by a word, a smile, a single tear, or a caress. 
 
 Away from the enchantress, reason returned at inter- 
 vals ; and, in his lucid moments, he said to himself, 
 " She does not love me. She is amusing herself with my 
 folly, and laughing at my infatuation." But her love 
 had taken such deep root in his heart that he could not 
 pluck it forth. He made himself a monster of jealousy, 
 to torture him still more, and was constantly occupied 
 in arguments within himself respecting her fidelity. But 
 he never had the courage to declare his suspicions. " I 
 should either have to leave her," thought he, " or ac- 
 cept every thing in the future." At the idea of a separa- 
 tion from her, he trembled, and felt his passion strong 
 enough to compel him to submit to the lowest indignity. 
 He preferred even his desolating doubts to a still more 
 dreadful certainty. 
 
 The presence of the maid who took a considerable 
 time in arranging the tea-table gave Noel an opportunity 
 to recover himself. He looked at Juliette ; and his anger
 
 ioo THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 took flight. Already he began to fear he had been a lit- 
 tle cruel to her. 
 
 When Charlotte retired, he came and took a seat on 
 the divan beside his mistress, and attempted to put his 
 arms round her. 
 
 " Come," said he in a caressing tone, " you have been 
 angry enough for this evening. If I have done wrong, 
 you have punished me sufficiently. Make peace, and 
 embrace me." She repulsed him angrily, and said in a 
 dry tone, 
 
 " Let me alone ! How many times must I repeat, that 
 I am suffering from nervousness this evening." 
 
 " Suffer, my love? what ails you? shall I bring the 
 doctor?" 
 
 " There is no need. I know the nature of my malady. 
 It is called ennui ; and the doctor cannot cure me." 
 
 Noel rose with a discouraged air, and took his place 
 at the other side of the tea-table, facing her. His resig- 
 nation bespoke how habituated he had become to these 
 rebuffs. Juliette snubbed him ; but he returned always, 
 like the poor dog who lies in wait for the instant when 
 his caresses may not be inopportune. 
 
 " You have told me very often, during the last few 
 months, that you feel ennui. What have I done to 
 you ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 "Well, why then" ? 
 
 " My life is nothing more than a lohg imprisonment," 
 answered the young woman with flashing eyes. " Do 
 you think it very amusing to be shut up here all alone 
 until you come in, like a mute at a funeral? Look at 
 yourself, sad, disagreeable, restless, suspicious, de- 
 voured by a prying jealousy ! "
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 101 
 
 " Your reception of me, my dear Juliette, this even- 
 ing," ventured Noel, " was enough to extinguish gaiety 
 and freeze good humor; and, as for my jealousy, one 
 fears where one loves." 
 
 " Thank you, monsieur. I am the occasion of your 
 sad looks and grave speeches! Go, then, and find an- 
 other woman expressly formed to suit your ideas, and, 
 if you cannot find her, have one made to order; and, 
 when you get her, then shut her up in a cave, and show 
 her to yourself once a day, after dinner, with the des- 
 sert, when the champagne is on the table. That's your 
 idea of happiness, is it? " 
 
 " I should have done better not to have come," mur- 
 mured the advocate. 
 
 " Indeed ! That I might remain alone here, without 
 any thing to occupy me except a cigarette and a stupid 
 book, that I go to sleep over? Do you call this an ex- 
 istence, even, never to budge out of the house? " 
 
 " It is the life of all the honest women that I know," 
 replied the advocate, dryly. 
 
 " Then I cannot compliment them on their enjoyment. 
 They merit all the respect they gain by being honest 
 women, if they have no more amusement than that. 
 Happily for me, however, I am not an honest woman ; 
 although I might as well be, housed up more closely 
 than the wife of a Turk, with your sorrowful face for 
 my only distraction." 
 
 " You housed up ? You live in a prison, you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I ! " continued Juliette, with eager opposition. 
 " Let us see. Have you ever brought one of your friends 
 here ? No. Monsieur hides me. When have you offered 
 me your arm for a promenade ? Never. Monsieur's dig- 
 nity would be sullied, if he were seen in my company. I
 
 102 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 have a carriage. Have you entered it three times ? Per- 
 haps ; but then you pulled up the blinds ! I ride out 
 alone. I promenade alone." 
 
 " Always the same refrain," interrupted Noel, his an- 
 ger beginning to rise, " without ceasing these discon- 
 tented complainings, as if you had yet to learn the rea- 
 son why this state of things exists." 
 
 " I am not ignorant," pursued the young girl, " that 
 you blush for me. I know, at the same time, men who 
 carry higher crests than yours who willingly show them- 
 selves by the side of their mistresses. Monsieur trembles 
 for the fine name of Gerdy that I am tarnishing ; whilst 
 the sons of the greatest families in France are not afraid 
 to proclaim their preferences to all the world." 
 
 This home-thrust enraged Noel, to the great delight 
 of Madame Chaffour. 
 
 " Enough of these recriminations ! " cried he, rising. 
 " If I hide our relations, it is because I am constrained 
 to do so. Of what do you complain? You have unre- 
 strained liberty ; and you use it, too, and so largely that 
 your actions altogether escape me. You accuse me of 
 creating a vacuum around you. I bring no friends to 
 visit you. Am I to blame for the circumstances of my 
 position? My friends have been accustomed to see me 
 in a home whose aspect speaks of modest competence, 
 not unrestrained extravagance. Can I bring them here, 
 to be astonished by your luxury, by this suite of apart- 
 ments, a monument of my folly? Would they not in- 
 quire of me, from whom have I taken the money that 
 maintains this mad profusion ? 
 
 " I may have a preference : granted ; but I have no 
 right to throw away a fortune which is not my own. 
 The day it becomes known that my folly enables you 
 to pursue your career of extravagance, my future pros-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 103 
 
 pects are destroyed. What client would confide his in- 
 terests to an imbecile who permitted himself to be ruined 
 by the woman whose toilettes are the talk of Paris? I 
 am not a noble. I have neither an historical name to tar- 
 nish nor an immense fortune to lose. I am Noel Gerdy, 
 advocate. My reputation is all that I possess. It is a 
 false reputation, you will say. Be it so. Such as it is, it 
 is necessary to me ; and I will endeavor to keep it." 
 
 Juliette knew Noel by heart. She saw that she had 
 gone far enough. 
 
 " My friend," said she, tenderly, " I do not wish to 
 pain you. You must be indulgent. I am horribly ner- 
 vous this evening." 
 
 This simple change of tone delighted the advocate, 
 and sufficed almost to calm his anger. 
 
 " You drive me mad with your injustice," said he. 
 " While I exhaust my imagination to find what can be 
 agreeable to you, you are perpetually attacking my 
 gravity; and forty-eight hours have not elapsed since 
 we were plunged in all the extravagance of the carnival. 
 To please you, I kept the fete of Shrove Tuesday like 
 a student. I took you to the theatre ; I put on a domino, 
 and accompanied you to the ball at the opera, and even 
 invited two of my friends to sup with us." 
 
 " It was very gay indeed," answered the young girl, 
 making a wry face. 
 
 " So it seemed to me." 
 
 " Did it, indeed ? Then you are not difficult to please. 
 We went to the Vaudeville, it is true, but separately, as 
 we always do, I alone above, you below. At the ball, 
 you looked the very picture of misery ; and, at the sup- 
 per-table, your friends were as melancholy as a pair of 
 owls. I obeyed your orders, by affecting hardly to know 
 you ; and, by the way, although you drank like a sponge,
 
 104 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 I could not see that you became a whit more cheerful, 
 even when you were drunk." 
 
 " A proof," interrupted Noel, " that we ought not to 
 force our tastes. Let us talk of something else." 
 
 He took a few steps in the room, and looked at his 
 watch. 
 
 " An hour gone already," said he. " My love, I must 
 leave you." 
 
 "How, already?" 
 
 " Yes, to my great regret : my mother is dangerously 
 sick." 
 
 He displayed, and counted on the table, the bankbills 
 given him by Pere Tabaret. 
 
 " My petite Juliette," said he, " here are not eight 
 thousand francs, but ten thousand. You will not see me 
 again for some days." 
 
 " You are going to leave Paris, then ? " 
 
 " No ; but my entire time will be absorbed by an affair 
 of immense importance. If I succeed in my undertak- 
 ing, mignonne, our future happiness is assured ; and you 
 will soon see how well I love you ! " 
 
 " Oh, my dear Noel, tell me what it is." 
 
 " I cannot, now." 
 
 " Tell me, I beseech you," pleaded the young girl, 
 hanging round his neck, raising herself upon the points 
 of her toes to approach her lips to his. The advocate 
 embraced her ; and his resolution seemed to waver. 
 
 " No," said he, at length, " I am serious, I cannot. 
 Of what use to awaken in you hopes that may never be 
 realized? Now, my cherished, hear me well. Whatever 
 may happen, understand, you must under no pretext 
 whatever again come near my house, as you had once 
 the imprudence to do. Do not even write to me. By dis- 
 obeying, you may do me an irreparable injury. If any
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 105 
 
 accident occurs, send for me by this old extortioner, 
 Clergeot. I ought to have a visit from him to-morrow, 
 or the day after ; he holds notes of mine." 
 
 Juliette recoiled, menacing Noel with a mutinous 
 gesture. 
 
 " You will not tell me any thing? " insisted she. 
 
 " Not this evening ; but shortly I will tell you every 
 thing," replied the advocate embarrassed by the pierc- 
 ing glances of her dark eyes. 
 
 " Always some mystery ! " cried Juliette, piqued at 
 the want of success attending her blandishments. 
 
 " This will be the last, I swear to you ! " 
 
 " Noel, my good man," said the young girl in a seri- 
 ous tone, " you are hiding something from me : I know 
 it; I read it in your face. For several days, how I 
 cannot precisely explain, you have been completely 
 changed." 
 
 " I swear to you, Juliette " 
 
 " No, swear nothing ; I should not believe you. Only 
 remember, no attempt at deceiving me, I forewarn you. 
 I am a woman to revenge myself." 
 
 The advocate evidently was ill at ease. 
 
 " The affair in question," stammered he, " can as well 
 fail as succeed." 
 
 " Enough ! " interrupted Juliette ; " your will shall be 
 obeyed. I promise that. All right, monsieur. Good- 
 night. I am going to bed." 
 
 The door was not shut upon Noel when Charlotte 
 was installed on the divan, near her mistress. Had the 
 advocate been listening at the door, he would have heard 
 Madame Juliette say, 
 
 " What a scene ! No, Charlotte, I can endure him no 
 longer. I am afraid of him. He is capable of killing 
 me! I can see it in his glance."
 
 106 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The soubrette vainly tried to defend Noel; but her 
 mistress did not listen. She murmured, 
 
 " Why does he absent himself ? and what is he plot- 
 ting? Some mischief, I am sure. An absence of eight 
 days ! It is suspicious. Can he by any chance be going 
 to be married? Ah! if I knew it. You weary me to 
 death, my good Noel, with your gravity and your jeal- 
 ousy; and I am determined to break with you one of 
 these fine mornings ; but I cannot permit you to quit me 
 first. I cannot allow you to get married, and dismiss me. 
 No, no, my mysterious friend, I must have some in- 
 formation about your business of immense importance." 
 
 But Noel did not listen at the door. He left the house 
 in haste, descended the Rue Provence as quickly as pos- 
 sible, gained the Rue St. Lazare, and entered as he had 
 departed, by the secret door. He had hardly reached 
 his study, when the nurse knocked at the door. 
 
 " Monsieur," said the woman, " in the name of 
 heaven, answer me ! " 
 
 He opened the door, and said with impatience, 
 "What is it now?" 
 
 " Monsieur," stammered the servant in tears, " this is 
 the third time I have called, and you have not answered. 
 Come, I implore you. I am afraid madame is dying ! " 
 
 He followed the nurse to Madame Gerdy's chamber. 
 He must have found her terribly changed ; for he could 
 not restrain a movement of terror. 
 
 The sick woman struggled painfully beneath her cov- 
 erings. Her face was of a livid paleness, as though 
 there was not a drop of blood in her veins ; and her eyes, 
 which glittered with a sombre fire, seemed covered with 
 a film. Her hair, loose and disordered, falling over her 
 cheeks and upon her shoulders, contributed to her wild 
 appearance. She uttered from time to time a groan
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 107 
 
 hardly audible, or murmured unintelligible words. At 
 times, a fiercer pang than common forced from her a 
 cry of anguish. She did not recognize Noel. 
 
 " You see, monsieur," said the nurse. 
 
 " Yes. Who would have believed her malady could 
 advance so rapidly ? Quick, run to Dr. Herve ! he will 
 come immediately, when you tell him it is for me." 
 
 And he seated himself in the arm-chair, facing the 
 sick woman. 
 
 Doctor Herve was one of Noel's friends, an old 
 school-fellow, his companion of the Quartier Latin, in 
 his student days. The doctor's history differed in noth- 
 ing from that of most young men, who, without fortune, 
 friends, or influence, enter upon the practice of the most 
 difficult, the most hazardous of professions in Paris. 
 
 A man of remarkable courage and self-reliance, con- 
 scious of possessing superior talent, Herve determined 
 neither to exile himself in a country village, nor place 
 himself under the control of some unprincipled dealer 
 in drugs, as many of his companions were reduced to 
 the necessity of doing, to gain a bare subsistence. " I 
 will remain in Paris," said he to himself; " I will there 
 become celebrated. I shall be surgeon-in-chief of. the 
 hospital, and wear the cross of the legion of honor." 
 
 To enter upon this path of thorns, leading to an arch 
 of triumph, the future academician ran himself twenty 
 thousand francs in debt to furnish a small office. Here, 
 armed with a patience which nothing could fatigue, an 
 iron resolution that nothing could subdue, he struggled 
 and waited. Only those who have experienced it can 
 understand what sufferings are endured by the poor, 
 proud man, who waits in a black coat, freshly shaven, 
 with smiling lips, while he is starving of hunger. The 
 refinements of civilization have inaugurated punish-
 
 io8 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ments compared to which the torture practised on his 
 victim by the savage Indian is mercy. 
 
 The unknown physician must begin by attending the 
 sick beds of the poor who cannot pay him, becoming 
 known to the mass of human beings who take advan- 
 tage of the needs of their fellow-men. He is called in by 
 a citizen of the better class, to save the expense of em- 
 ploying a more thriving practitioner. The sick man is 
 profuse in promises, w r hile he is in danger; but, when 
 cured, he recovers the use of his faculties and forgets 
 the doctor's fee. 
 
 After seven years of heroic perseverence, Herve ob- 
 tained at last a circle of patients who paid his fees. Dur- 
 ing this time, he had lived and paid the exorbitant in- 
 terest of his debt ; but he had succeeded at last. Three 
 or four pamphlets and a prize won without much in- 
 trigue, attracted public attention to him. He became the 
 great, the famous physician of Paris. 
 
 But he is no longer the brave young enthusiast, full 
 of the faith and hope that attended him in his visits to 
 the poor, whose lives he saved without other payment 
 than their prayers. He comes now to the rich man's 
 sick bed, stronger and more self-reliant than ever, it is 
 true, but neither hoping for nor rejoicing in success. He 
 had used up those feelings in the days when he had not 
 wherewith to pay for his dinner. For his great fortune 
 in the time to come, he had paid too dearly in the past ; 
 and now to attain success is to take a revenge. At thirty- 
 five, he is blase', filled with disgust at the deceptions of 
 the world and believing in nothing. Under the appear- 
 ance of universal benevolence, he conceals universal 
 scorn. His finesse, sharpened by the grindstone of ad- 
 versity, has become mischievous. And, while he sees 
 through all disguises worn by others, he hides his pene-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 109 
 
 tration carefully under a mask of cheerful good-nature 
 and jovial lightness. 
 
 But he was good, he was devout, and he loved his 
 friends. 
 
 He arrived, hardly dressed, so great had been his 
 haste. His first word on entering was, 
 
 " What is the matter with him ? " 
 
 Noel pressed his hand in silence, and pointed to the 
 bed. 
 
 In less than a minute, the doctor completed his ex- 
 amination of the sick woman, and returned to his friend. 
 
 " What has happened to her ? " demanded he shortly. 
 " It is necessary I should know." 
 
 The advocate started at this question. 
 
 " Know what? " stammered he. 
 
 " All," answered Herve. " This is a case of encepha- 
 lite. I cannot be mistaken in the symptoms. It is an 
 uncommon malady, and generally fatal. Even when the 
 life of the patient is saved, the functions of the brain 
 usually remain arrested. Who can have occasioned this ? 
 There is no local injury to the brain or its bony cover- 
 ing. The mischief has been caused by some violent 
 emotion of the soul, a shock, the intelligence of some 
 catastrophe ! " 
 
 Noel interrupted his friend by a gesture, and drew 
 him into the embrasure of the window. 
 
 " Yes, my friend," said he in a low tone, " Madame 
 Gerdy has experienced great mental suffering. She has 
 been tortured by remorse for crime, and apprehension 
 of discovery. Listen, Herve. I will confide to your 
 honor and our friendship a secret. Madame Gerdy is 
 not my mother. She has despoiled me, to enrich her 
 son with my fortune and my name. Three weeks have 
 elapsed since my discovery of this unworthy fraud. This
 
 no THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 discovery was the shock you have suspected. Since 
 then, she has been dying minute by minute." 
 
 The advocate expected some exclamations of aston- 
 ishment, some questions regarding the particulars of 
 this singular history, from his friend; but the doctor 
 received the explanation without remark, as a simple 
 statement, indispensable to his understanding the case. 
 
 " Three weeks," murmured he ; " that explains every 
 thing. Has she appeared to suffer much during the 
 time?" 
 
 " She complained of violent pains in the head, dim- 
 ness of sight, and a noise as of the surging of water 
 in her ears ; but do not conceal any thing from me, 
 Herve ; is there serious danger? '' 
 
 " So serious, my friend, that I am undertaking a 
 hopeless task in attempting a cure." 
 
 " Ah ! good heaven ! " 
 
 " You asked for the truth, my friend ; and I have had 
 the courage to answer, because you tell me this poor 
 woman is not your mother. Nothing short of a miracle 
 can save her ; but this miracle we may prepare for. And 
 now to work." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ELEVEN o'clock was striking at the Terminus of 
 St. Lazare, when Pere Tabaret left his house, stunned 
 and bewildered by the flood of information so unex- 
 pectedly poured upon him. Having been obliged to re- 
 strain himself while in Noel's presence, his sudden re- 
 lease to the freedom of speech and deportment was de- 
 lightful. On gaining the street, he reeled like a drunk- 
 ard when he first breathes the open air, after leaving the
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE in 
 
 heated atmosphere of the wine shop, so intense was the 
 effect of the sudden revelations, just made by his friend 
 Noel. 
 
 Notwithstanding his haste to arrive at M. Daburon's, 
 he did not take a carriage. He felt the necessity of walk- 
 ing. He was one of those to whose brain exercise 
 brings clearness. As he went along, his ideas clashed 
 and shifted themselves, as grains of wheat when shaken 
 in a basket. Without hastening his pace, he gained the 
 Rue Chaussee d'Antin, crossed the boulevard with its 
 resplendent cafes, and turned into the Rue Richelieu. 
 
 He walked along, unconscious of external objects, 
 tripping and stumbling over the inequalities of the side- 
 walk, or slipping on the greasy pavement. If he fol- 
 lowed the proper road, it was a purely mechanical im- 
 pulse that guided him. His mind was following through 
 the darkness the mysterious thread of which he had 
 seized the almost imperceptible end at Jonchere. 
 
 Persons laboring under strong emotion frequently, 
 without knowing it, utter their thoughts aloud, little 
 thinking into what indiscreet ears their revelations or 
 disjointed phrases may fall. At every step, we meet in 
 Paris people babbling to themselves, and unconsciously 
 confiding to the four winds of heaven their dearest se- 
 crets, like cracked vases that allow their contents to 
 steal away. Often the passers by take these eccentric 
 monologuists for madmen. Often the idle or curious fol- 
 low, and amuse themselves by receiving these strange 
 confidences. It was an indiscretion of this kind which 
 told the ruin of Riscara the rich banker. Lambreth, the 
 assassin of the Rue Venise, betrayed himself in a simi- 
 lar manner. 
 
 " What a vein ! " said Pere Tabaret. " What an in- 
 credible piece of good fortune! Gevrol has well said,
 
 ii2 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 that, after all, the cleverest agent of the police is chance. 
 Who would have imagined such a history? I was not, 
 however, very far from the reality. I smelt out an in- 
 fant at the bottom of the mystery ! But who would have 
 dreamed of such a thing as the substitution? an old 
 sensational effect, used up long ago in plays and novels. 
 This is a striking example of the danger of following 
 preconceived ideas in police investigation. We are af- 
 frighted at unlikelihood ; and, as in this case, the great- 
 est unlikelihood proves often to be the truth. We re- 
 treat before the absurd ; and the absurd turns out to be 
 the very thing we should examine. Every thing is possi- 
 ble. 
 
 " I would not take a thousand crowns for the experi- 
 ences of this evening. I shall kill two birds with one 
 stone. I deliver up the criminal ; and I give Noel a hearty 
 clap on the shoulder to recover his title and his fortune. 
 For once I shall not be sorry to see a boy raised to 
 fortune from. the school of adversity. But, pshaw! he 
 will be like all the rest. Prosperity will turn his head. 
 Already he begins to prate of his ancestors. Poor hu- 
 manity ! " he burst into a fit of laughter. " It is my 
 friend Madame Gerdy who has astonished me most of 
 all, a woman to whom I would have given absolution 
 before waiting to hear confess ; and then to think that I 
 was on the point of asking her hand in marriage ! What 
 a narrow escape ! B-r-r-r ! " 
 
 At this thought, the old fellow shivered. He saw 
 himself married, and all on a sudden discovering the 
 antecedents of Madame Tabaret, becoming mixed up 
 with a scandalous prosecution, compromised, and ren- 
 dered ridiculous. 
 
 " When I think/' he went on laughing, as his 
 thoughts took another direction, " when I think of
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 113 
 
 my worthy Gevrol running after the man with the ear- 
 rings in his ears! Ha, ha! Travel, my boy, travel! 
 Voyages inform youth. How vexed he will be when he 
 hears of this ! He will wish me dead. I must jest with 
 him a little, just a little. I cannot help it. If he wishes 
 to do me any injury, M. Daburon must protect me. 
 Talking of Daburon. Am I not going to take a thorn 
 out of his foot. I can see him from this spot opening 
 his eyes like saucers, when I say to him, 'I have the 
 rascal! ' This investigation will bring him honor, when 
 all the credit is due to me. He will, at the least, receive 
 the cross of honor. So much the better. He will come 
 to me again, this judge. If he is asleep, I am going to 
 give him an agreeable awaking. How he will over- 
 power me with questions ! How he will want to know 
 the end, before I can relate the beginning ! " 
 
 Pere Tabaret, who was now crossing the bridge of St. 
 Pere's, stopped suddenly. " Hold ! " said he, " the de- 
 tails? I have not got them. I know the story only in 
 the gross." 
 
 He continued his walk, and resumed, " They are 
 right at the office ; I am too hasty. I am too fond of ro- 
 mancing, as Gevrol says. When I was with Noel I 
 ought to have cross-examined him, until I extracted 
 from him all those little points of evidence which now 
 I can only guess at ; but I was carried away. I drank 
 in his words. I would willingly have had him tell the 
 story in one sentence. But, after all, it is but natural. 
 When one is in pursuit of a stag, he does not stop to 
 shoot a blackbird. Besides, by insisting on minute par- 
 ticulars, I might have awakened suspicions in Noel's 
 mind, and led him to discover that I am working up the 
 case for the Rue Jerusalem. To be sure, I do not blush 
 for my connection with the police; I am even vain of
 
 H4 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 it; but I love to think that no one suspects it, to see 
 how stupid people are in not knowing the police who 
 protect and guard them. And now for the interview; 
 for here we are at the end of our journey." 
 
 M. Daburon had gone to bed, but had given orders to 
 his servant; so that Pere Tabaret had but to give his 
 name, to be conducted to the magistrate's sleeping-room. 
 
 At sight of his amateur agent, the judge addressed 
 him quickly, 
 
 " There is something extraordinary ! What have you 
 discovered ? have you got a clew ? " 
 
 " Better than that," answered the old fellow, smiling 
 at ease. 
 
 " Speak quickly ! " 
 
 " I have got the culprit ! " 
 
 Pere Tabaret ought to have been satisfied; he cer- 
 tainly produced an effect. The judge bounded from his 
 bed. 
 
 " Already? " said he. " Is it possible? " 
 
 " I have the honor to repeat to M. the judge of in- 
 quiry that I know the author of the crime of Jonchere." 
 
 " And I," said the judge, " I proclaim you the most 
 able of police agents past or future. I shall certainly 
 never hereafter undertake an investigation without your 
 assistance." 
 
 " You are too kind, monsieur. I have had little or 
 nothing to do in the matter. The discovery is due to 
 chance alone." 
 
 " You are modest, M. Tabaret. .Chance assists only 
 wise men. She disdains to aid the stupid ; but I beg 
 you will be seated and talk." 
 
 Then with a lucidity and precision of which few 
 would have believed him capable, the old fellow repeated 
 to the judge all of Noel's story. He repeated from
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 115 
 
 memory the extracts from the letters, almost without 
 changing a word. 
 
 " These letters," added he, " I have seen ; and I have 
 even carried off one, in order to verify the writing. 
 Here it is." 
 
 " Yes," murmured the magistrate, " yes, M. Tab- 
 aret, you have discovered the criminal. The evidence 
 is palpable, even to the blind. Heaven has willed this. 
 Crime engenders crime. The misdeeds of the father 
 have made the son an assassin." 
 
 " I have not given you the names, monsieur," said 
 Pere Tabaret. " I wished first to hear your opinion 
 of the evidence." 
 
 " Oh ! you can name them," interrupted the judge 
 with a certain degree of animation. " If ever so high 
 in position, they shall not escape the law. A French 
 magistrate never hesitates." 
 
 " I know it, monsieur ; but we are going high this 
 time. The father who has sacrificed his legitimate to 
 his natural son is the Count Rheteau de Commarin ; 
 and the assassin of the Widow Lerouge is the natural 
 son, Albert Vicomte de Commarin ! " 
 
 Pere Tabaret, like an accomplished artist, had uttered 
 these words with a deliberate emphasis, expecting con- 
 fidently to produce a great impression. His attempt 
 overshot itself. M. Daburon was struck with stupor. 
 He remained motionless, his eyes dilated with astonish- 
 ment. Mechanically he repeated it. like a strange word, 
 the sense of which he was trying to understand. 
 
 " Albert de Commarin ! Albert de Commarin ! " 
 
 " Yes," insisted Pere Tabaret, " the noble viscount. 
 He is the last man in the world to be suspected, I know." 
 
 But he perceived the alteration of the judge's face; 
 and, a little frightened, he approached the bed.
 
 n6 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 "Are you unwell?" he asked. 
 
 " No," answered Daburon, without knowing what 
 he said. " I am very well ; but the surprise, the emo- 
 tion/' 
 
 " I understand that," said the old fellow. 
 
 " I wish you would leave me for a few minutes ; but 
 do not depart. We must converse at some length on 
 this business. Will you step into my study? There 
 ought to be a fire still burning there. I will rejoin you 
 in an instant." 
 
 Then Daburon rose lightly from the bed, put on a 
 dressing-gown, and seated himself, or rather fell, into 
 an arm-chair. His face, to which the exercise of his 
 austere functions had given the immobility of marble, 
 reflected the most cruel agitation; while his eyes be- 
 trayed the inward agony of his soul. 
 
 The name of Commarin, suddenly pronounced, awak- 
 ened in him the most sorrowful recollections, and tore 
 open a wound but badly healed. This name recalled to 
 him an event which had rudely extinguished his youth 
 and broken his life. Involuntarily, he carried his 
 thoughts back to this epoch, and compelled himself 
 to taste again all its bitterness. 
 
 An hour ago, it had seemed to him far removed, and 
 already hidden in the mists of the past. One word had 
 sufficed to recall it, clear and distinct. It seemed to him 
 now that this event with which he connected the name 
 of Albert de Commarin dated from yesterday, instead 
 of which two years had elapsed. 
 
 Pierre Marie Daburon belonged to one of the oldest 
 families of Poitou. Three or four of his ancestors had 
 filled successively the most considerable offices in the 
 province. Why, then, had they not bequeathed a title 
 and their arms to their descendants ?
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 117 
 
 The magistrate's worthy father inhabited an ugly 
 modern castle; but it was surrounded by about eight 
 hundred thousand francs' worth of the best land in 
 France. His mother was a Cottevise-Luxe, from whom 
 he inherited the blood of the highest nobility of Poitou, 
 one of the most exclusive families in France, as every 
 one knows. 
 
 When he was appointed a judge of inquiry in Paris, 
 his parentage opened for him without delay five or six 
 aristocratic salons; and he was not slow to extend his 
 circle of acquaintance. 
 
 He possessed, however, few of the qualifications for 
 social success. He was cold and grave even to sadness, 
 reserved and timid to excess. His mind wanted bril- 
 liancy and lightness ; he lacked the facility of repartee, 
 and the amiable art of conversing without a subject, 
 which is almost a necessity in mixed companies. He 
 could neither relate a bon mot nor pay a compliment. 
 Like most men who feel deeply, he was unable to trans- 
 late his impressions immediately. Reflection was neces- 
 sary to him ; and he fell back upon himself. 
 
 To compensate for these defects he possessed other 
 qualities more solid, nobility of sentiment, strength of 
 character, and integrity of purpose. Those who knew 
 him quickly learned to esteem his sound judgment, his 
 keen sense of honor, and tq discover under his cold ex- 
 terior a warm heart, an excessive sensibility, and a deli- 
 cacy almost feminine. In a word, although he might be 
 eclipsed by the wits and triflers of a crowded salon, 
 he charmed all hearts in a smaller circle, where he felt 
 warmed by the purer atmosphere of sympathy. 
 
 He accustomed himself to go abroad a great deal. 
 He reasoned, wisely perhaps, that a magistrate can make 
 better use of his time than by remaining shut up in
 
 ii8 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 his study, in company with books of law. He thought 
 a man, to be a judge, ought to know something of 
 mankind; and, with that belief, he entered upon the 
 study of the subject. An attentive and discreet ob- 
 server, he examined around him the play of human 
 interests and passions, exercised himself in disentang- 
 ling and manoeuvring at need the strings of the pup- 
 pets he saw moving about him. Piece by piece, so to 
 say, he labored to comprehend the working of the com- 
 plicated machine called society, of which he was charged 
 to overlook the movements, regulate the springs, and 
 preserve the healthful action. 
 
 All on a sudden, towards the commencement of the 
 winter of 1860 and 1861, Daburon disappeared. His 
 friends sought for him ; he was nowhere to be found. 
 What had become of him ? Inquiry resulted in the dis- 
 covery that he passed nearly all his evenings at Madame 
 d' Arlanges' house. The surprise was as great as it 
 was natural. 
 
 This dear marquise was, or rather is, for she is 
 still in the land of the living, a person rather out of 
 date and rococo in the dowagers of the Princess de 
 Southenay's circle. She is surely the most singular 
 link between the eighteenth century and our own. How, 
 and by what marvelous process she has been preserved 
 such as we see her, from so remote an age to the pres- 
 ent, is a more puzzling question than we can explain. 
 Listening to her, you would swear that she was yester- 
 day at one of the queen's soirees, whose passion for 
 cards was the annoyance of Louis XIV., at whose par- 
 ties the great ladies cheated openly in emulation of each 
 other. 
 
 Manners, language, habits, even costume, she pre- 
 served them all ; and, as time had touched them, not to
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 119 
 
 beautit'y but to disfigure, the effect was not the most 
 pleasing. A glimpse of her head-dress is more than a 
 long article of review of the court of Louis XIV. ; an 
 hour's conversation, more than a volume of the " Con- 
 fessions of Madame de Maintenon." 
 
 She was born in a little German principality, where 
 her parents had taken refuge from their wild and rebel- 
 lious people. She had been nursed, when a child, on the 
 knees of old Emigres, in a salon very old and very much 
 gilded, resembling a cabinet of curiosities. Her mind 
 was awakened amid the hum of antediluvian conversa- 
 tions, her imagination aroused by arguments a little 
 less profitable than those of an assembly of dunces, conr 
 voked to decide the merits of a Greek hexameter. Here 
 she imbibed a fund of ideas, which, applied to the 
 forms of society to-day, are grotesque, as would be 
 those of an individual shut up for twenty years in an 
 Assyrian museum. 
 
 The empire, the restoration, the monarchy of July, 
 the second republic, the second empire, have passed 
 beneath her windows; but she has not taken the pains 
 to open them. All that has taken place since '89 she 
 ignores, or at most looks upon as a dream, a nightmare, 
 and expects an awakening. She has seen every thing; 
 but she has seen it through spectacles of her own mak- 
 ing, which present objects not as they are, but as she 
 wishes them to be. 
 
 At the age of sixty-eight, she was straight as an ar- 
 row, and had never known a day's sickness. She ate 
 her four meals a day with the appetite of a grape-gath- 
 erer, and drank when she was thirsty. She was so vi- 
 vacious and active that she never rested save when 
 sleeping, or when seated at her favorite game of piquet. 
 She professed an undisguised contempt for the silly wo-
 
 120 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 men of our century, who dine on the wing of a par- 
 tridge, and talk you to death with philosophical disquisi- 
 tions. Positive and over-bearing in all things, her word 
 was prompt and easily understood. Her language was 
 never rendered obscure by unnecessary delicacy. She 
 never shrank from using the most appropriate words to 
 express her meaning. If she offended some refined 
 ears, so much the worse, for their owners. What she 
 most detested was hypocrisy. 
 
 She believed in God ; but she believed also a little in 
 Voltaire. In fact, her devotion was, to say the least, 
 problematical. However, she was on good terms with 
 the curate of her parish, and was very particular about 
 the arrangement of her dinner on the days she honored 
 him with an invitation to her table. She considered 
 him a subaltern, very useful to her salvation, and de- 
 serving of the honor of opening for her the gate of para- 
 dise. 
 
 She was shunned like the plague. Everybody dreaded 
 her high voice, her terrible indiscretion, and the frank- 
 ness of speech she seemed to affect, in order to claim 
 the right of saying the most unpleasant things before 
 your face. Of all her family, there remained only her 
 granddaughter, whose father had died very young. 
 
 Of a fortune originally large, she had been able to 
 preserve but a small remnant, on which she supported 
 her small household in genteel, or rather aristocratic 
 poverty. She was, however, proprietor of the pretty 
 little house in which she lived near the Invalides, situ- 
 ated between a rather narrow court and a very extensive 
 and beautiful garden. 
 
 So circumstanced, she considered herself the most 
 unfortunate of God's creatures, and passed the greater 
 part of her time crying miserere ! From time to time,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 121 
 
 she declared she expected to be reduced to absolute beg- 
 gary, and to die in a hospital. 
 
 A friend of M. Daburon's presented him one evening 
 ;o the Marquise d'Arlanges, having dragged him to her 
 house in a mirthful mood, saying, " Come with me, 
 and I will show you a phenomenon, a ghost of the 
 past in flesh and bone." 
 
 The marquise received the magistrate graciously 
 enough; and her eccentricities amused him. On his 
 second visit, she amused him still more ; for which rea- 
 son, he came a third time. But she amused him no 
 longer; henceforth, every faculty of his soul was ab- 
 sorbed in studying the charms of the young and tender 
 rose who was blooming into loveliness, in this to him 
 henceforth enchanted dwelling. 
 
 Madame d'Arlanges conceived a violent friendship 
 for him, and became eloquent in his praise. 
 
 " A most charming young man," she declared, " deli- 
 cate and sensible ! What a pity he was not born " 
 (Her ladyship meant born of noble parentage, but used 
 the phrase as ignoring the fact of the unfortunates who 
 are not noble having been born at all ;) " although it is 
 plainly to be seen he ought to be. His family, by the 
 father's side, were people of considerable importance; 
 and his mother was a Cottevise, who made a mesalliance. 
 I approve of the young man, and shall advance him in 
 the world by my countenance." 
 
 The strongest proof of the favorable impression he 
 had made upon the marquise was, that she condescended 
 to pronounce his name like the rest of the world. She 
 preserved this affectation of forgetfulness of the names 
 of people who were not " born," and who in consequence 
 have no right to names. She was so confirmed in this 
 habit, that, if by accident she pronounced the name of
 
 122 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 one of those people correctly, she repeated it imme- 
 diately in some ridiculous manner. 
 
 At his first visit, the judge was amused to hear his 
 name changed every time she addressed him in the most 
 unaccountable way. Successivelv she made it Taburon, 
 Dabiron, Maliron, Laridon ; but in less than three 
 months, she called him Daburon as distinctly as if he 
 had been a duke of something, and seigneur of some- 
 where. 
 
 On occasions, she amused herself, endeavoring to 
 prove to the worthy magistrate that he must be noble, 
 or at least ought to be. She would have been happy, if 
 she had succeeded in making him wrap himself up in 
 a title, and put a coat of arms upon his visiting cards. 
 
 " How is it possible," said she, " that your ancestors, 
 eminent, wealthy, and influential, never thought of pur- 
 chasing a title for their descendants ? What a pity they 
 have not left you some presentable coat of arms ! " 
 
 " My ancestors were proud," responded M. Daburon. 
 " They preferred being foremost among their fellow- 
 citizens to becoming newly-created nobles." 
 
 Upon which the marquise explained, and proved to a 
 demonstration, that between the most influential and 
 wealthy untitled citizen and the smallest scion of no- 
 bility, there was an abyss that all the money in the world 
 could not fill up. 
 
 They who were surprised at the frequency of the 
 magistrate's visits to this celebrated " relic of the past " 
 had no idea that the real attraction was not the mar- 
 quise but her granddaughter, Claire, whose presence 
 converted the old-fashioned house into a bower of en- 
 chantment. 
 
 Mademoiselle Claire d'Arlanges had already seen sev- 
 enteen summers. She was very gracious and sweet in
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 manner, and ravishing in her natural innocence and 
 fearlesness of harm. She had blonde, ash-colored hair, 
 very fine and thick, which she wore over a large roll 
 above her forehead, and which fell in large masses upon 
 her neck, in the most artless fashion imaginable. Her 
 figure, though graceful, was rather slender ; but her face 
 recalled the celestial pictures of Guido. Her blue eyes, 
 shaded by long lashes of a hue darker than her hair, 
 had above all an adorable expression. 
 
 A certain air of antiquity, caught from association 
 with her grandmother, added yet another charm to the 
 young girl's manners. She had more sense, however, 
 than her relative; and, as her education was not ne- 
 glected, she had imbibed ideas of the world in which 
 she lived sufficiently exact to preserve her from imita- 
 ting her grandmother's absurdities. This education, 
 these practical ideas, Claire owed to her governess, upon 
 whose shoulders the marquise had thrown the sole re- 
 sponsibility of cultivating her mind. 
 
 This governess, Mademoiselle Schmidt, chosen at 
 hazard, taken " with eyes shut," happened by the most 
 fortunate chance to be both well informed and possessed 
 of principle. She was, what is often met with on the 
 other side of the Rhine, a woman at once romantic and 
 practical, of the tenderest sensibility and the severest 
 virtue. This good woman, while she carried her pupil 
 into the land of sentimental phantasy and poetical im- 
 aginings, gave her at the same time the most practical 
 instruction in matters relating to actual life ; and, while 
 she deprived Claire of all the peculiarities of thought 
 and manner that rendered her grandmother so ridicu- 
 lous, she preserved in her mind all the respect that was 
 due to her position and the relations between them. 
 
 This was the young girl who attracted M. Daburon to
 
 124 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Madame d'Arlanges' salon where he sat evening after 
 evening, listening, without hearing, to her rigmaroles, 
 her interminable anecdotes of the emigration ; while he 
 gazed upon Claire, as a fanatic upon his idol. Often, 
 in his ecstasy, he forgot where he was for the moment, 
 absolutely became oblivious of the old lady's presence; 
 although her shrill voice was piercing the tympanum of 
 his ear, as a needle goes through cloth. Suddenly re- 
 called to consciousness, he answered her at cross-pur- 
 poses, committing the most singular blunders, which 
 he labored afterwards to explain. But this did not much 
 impede the conversation. Madame d'Arlanges did not 
 perceive her courtier's absence of mind ; and her ques- 
 tions were of such a length, and succeeded each other 
 so rapidly, that the answers were of little consequence. 
 Having a listener, she was satisfied, provided that from 
 time to time he gave signs of life. 
 
 When obliged to sit down to piquet, he cursed below 
 his breath the game and its detestable inventor. He 
 paid no attention to his cards. He made mistakes every 
 moment, dealt without seeing, and forgot to cut. The 
 old dame was annoyed by these continual distractions; 
 but she did not scruple to profit by them. She watched 
 the deal, rectified all mistakes; while she counted au- 
 daciously points she never made, and pocketed his 
 money without remorse. 
 
 As Daburon's timidity was extreme, and Claire was 
 unsociable to excess, they never spoke to each other. 
 During the entire winter, the judge did not address ten 
 times a direct word to the young girl ; and, on these 
 rare occasions, he had learned by heart mechanically the 
 phrase he proposed to repeat to her, well knowing that, 
 without this precaution, he would be obliged to remain 
 silent.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 125 
 
 But at least he saw her, he breathed the same air with 
 her, he heard her voice, whose pure and harmonious vi- 
 brations thrilled his very soul. 
 
 By constantly watching her eyes, he learned to un- 
 derstand all their expressions. He believed he could 
 read in them all her thoughts, and through them look 
 into her soul as into an open window. 
 
 " She is pleased to-day," said he to himself ; and 
 then he was happy. At other times, he thought, " She 
 has met with some annoyance to-day ; " and immediately 
 he became sad. 
 
 The idea of asking for her hand many times presented 
 itself to his imagination ; but he never dared to entertain 
 it. Knowing, as he did, the marquise's prejudices, her 
 devotion to titles, her dread of mesalliance, he was con- 
 vinced she would reject his suit; and he did not dare to 
 risk the dissolution of his present happiness upon so 
 slender a hope of success. Poor man ! he had reached 
 the altitude of love where it feeds upon its own misery. 
 
 " Once repulsed," he thought, " the house is shut 
 against me ; and then farewell to happiness : this life is 
 finished for me." 
 
 Upon the other hand, the very rational thought oc- 
 curred to him that some other might see Mademoiselle 
 d'Arlanges ; seeing, love her, and in consequence, de- 
 mand and perhaps obtain her. 
 
 In either case, hazarding a proposal, or hesitating 
 still, he must certainly lose her in the end. By the com- 
 mencement of spring, his mind was made up. 
 
 One fine afternoon, in the month of April, he bent his 
 steps towards the Hotel d'Arlanges, having truly need 
 of more bravery than if he were a soldier about to face 
 a battery. He, like the soldier, whispered to himself 
 " Victory or death ! " The marquise, who had gone out
 
 126 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 shortly after breakfast, had just returned in a terrible 
 rage, and was uttering screams like an eagle. 
 
 This was what had taken place. She had had some 
 work done by a neighboring painter some eight or ten 
 months before; and the workman presented himself a 
 hundred times to receive payment, without avail. Tired 
 of this proceeding, he had summoned the high and 
 mighty Marquise d'Arlanges before the courts. 
 
 This summons had exasperated the marquise ; but she 
 kept the matter to herself, having decided, in her wis- 
 dom, to call upon the judge of the court himself, and 
 request him to reprimand the insolent painter who had 
 dared to plague her for a paltry sum of money. The re- 
 sult of this fine project may be guessed. The judge 
 had been compelled to eject her forcibly from his office ; 
 hence her fury. 
 
 M. Daburon found her in the rose-colored boudoir 
 in half dishabille, and complete disorder of head-dress, 
 red as a peony, surrounded by the debris of glass and 
 china which had fallen under her hands in the first mo- 
 ments of her passion. To complete her annoyance. 
 Claire and her governess were gone out. An excited 
 and terrified femme de chambre was inundating the old 
 lady with water, in the hope of calming her nerves. 
 
 She received Daburon as a messenger direct from 
 Providence. In a little more than half an hour, she told 
 her story, interlarded with interjections and impreca- 
 tions. 
 
 " Do you comprehend this judge ? " cried she. " This 
 must be some frantic Jacobin, some son of the furies, 
 who washed their hands in the blood of their king. Oh ! 
 my friend, I read stupor and indignation on your visage. 
 He has listened to the complaint of this buffoon, to 
 whom I had given the means of living, by employing
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE " 127 
 
 him. And when I waited upon him in his office, and ad- 
 dressed to him, as I owed it to myself to do, some severe 
 remonstrances, he actually turned me out of the room ! 
 me ! turned me out ! " 
 
 At this painful recollection, she made a fierce gesture 
 with her arms. In her sudden movement, she struck a 
 superb flacon, which the femme de chambre was hold- 
 ing. The blow dashed it to pieces against the wall of 
 the boudoir. 
 
 " Stupid, awkward fool ! " she cried, turning her an- 
 ger upon the frightened girl. 
 
 Daburon, stunned at first, now endeavored to calm 
 her exasperation. She did not allow him to pronounce 
 three words. 
 
 " Happily you are here," she continued ! " I have told 
 you all. I count upon you ! you will exercise your in- 
 fluence, your powerful friends, your credit, to have this 
 pitiful painter and this miscreant of a judge flung into 
 some deep ditch, to teach them the respect due to a wo- 
 man of my rank." 
 
 The magistrate did not permit himself even to smile 
 at this imperative demand. He had heard many speeches 
 as absurd issue from her lips without daring to perceive 
 their absurdity. Was she not Claire's grandmother? 
 for that he loved and venerated her. He blessed her for 
 her granddaughter, as an admirer of nature blesses 
 heaven for the wild flower that delights him with its 
 perfume. 
 
 The fury of the old lady was terrible; nor was it of 
 short duration. It was able, like the anger of Achilles, 
 to last through ten chapters. At the end of an hour, 
 however, she was, or appeared to be pacified. They re- 
 placed her head-dress, repaired the disorder of her toi- 
 lette, and picked up the fragments of broken china. Van-
 
 128 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 quished by her own violence, the reaction was imme- 
 diate and complete. She fell back helpless and ex- 
 hausted in the arm-chair. 
 
 This magnificent result was due to the magistrate. 
 To accomplish it, he had to use all his ability, to exer- 
 cise the most angelic patience, the greatest tact. His 
 triumph was the more meritorious, because he came 
 unprepared for this adventure, which interfered with 
 his intended proposal. He had arrived filled with some- 
 thing like a resolve to speak of his wishes ; and this un- 
 toward event declared against him : but he had a good 
 heart to oppose to misfortune. 
 
 Arming himself with his professional eloquence, he 
 talked the old lady into calmness. He was not so fool- 
 ish as to contradict her. On' the contrary, he caressed 
 her hobby. He was humorous and pathetic by turns. 
 He attacked the authors of the revolution, cursed its 
 errors, deplored its crimes, and reviewed its disastrous 
 results. From the infamous Marat, by an adroit allu- 
 sion he attacked the infamous judge who had offended 
 her. He abused the scandalous conduct of the magis- 
 trate in good set terms, and was awfully severe upon 
 the dishonest scamp of a painter. He declared that they 
 deserved the lowest dungeon in the Bastile ; but the con- 
 clusion to which he arrived was, that the severest blow 
 she could administer to the man's impertinence and the 
 judge's incapacity would be to pay the bill, and compel 
 them to give her a receipt in full for all demands. 
 
 The disconnected syllable " pay " brought Madame 
 d'Arlanges to her feet in the fercest attitude. 
 
 " Pay ! " she screamed. " In order that these scoun- 
 drels may persist in their obduracy ? encourage them by 
 a culpable weakness? Never! And, moreover, to pay, 
 it is necessary to have money ; and I have none ! "
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 129 
 
 " Why," said the judge, " it amounts to but eighty- 
 seven francs ! " 
 
 " And is that nothing ? " asked the marquise : " you 
 talk very easily, M. Daburon. It is easy to see that you 
 have money: your ancestors were people of no rank: 
 and the revolution passed a hundred feet above their 
 heads. Who can tell whether they may not have been 
 the gainers by it ? It has taken all from the d' Arlanges. 
 What will they do to me, if I do not pay ? " 
 
 " Well, madame le marquise, many things, ruin you, 
 in short : you will receive a notification from the courts. 
 If that is not attended to, your furniture will be seized." 
 
 " Alas ! " cried the old lady, " the revolution is not 
 over yet. We have not passed through all its horrors ! 
 How fortunate you are, M. Daburon, in being of the 
 people ! I see plainly that I must pay this man ; and it 
 is frightfully sad for me, who have nothing, and am 
 forced to make such sacrifices for sake of my grand- 
 child!" 
 
 The word " sacrifices " surprised the magistrate so 
 strongly that involuntarily he repeated it half-aloud, 
 "Sacrifices?" 
 
 " Certainly ! " replied Madame d'Arlanges. " With- 
 out her, would I have to live as I am doing, refusing 
 myself every thing to make both ends meet? Was it 
 not for her sake I placed all that I possessed in the 
 funds, and lost it? But I do not consider myself. I 
 know, thank heaven, the duties of a mother; and I 
 guard all mine well for my little Claire." 
 
 To this extraordinary devotion, M. Daburon had no 
 reply to make. 
 
 "Ah! this dear child torments me terribly," con- 
 tinued the marquise. " I confess, M. Daburon, it makes 
 me giddy when I think of her establishment."
 
 130 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The judge reddened with pleasure. The occasion 
 had come at a gallop. She was turning to leave the 
 room, when he detained her. 
 
 " It seems to me," stammered he, " that to establish 
 Mademoiselle Claire ought to be easy." 
 
 "Unfortunately, it is any thing but easy. She is 
 pretty enough, although unpolished; but, now-a-days, 
 beauty goes for nothing. Men are so mercenary they 
 think only of money. I do not know of one who has 
 the manhood to take a d'Arlanges with her bright eyes 
 for a dowry." 
 
 " I believe that you exaggerate," said the judge tim- 
 idly. 
 
 " By no means. Besides, when I find a son-in-law, 
 he will cause me a thousand troubles. Of this, I am as- 
 sured by my lawyer. I can be compelled, it seems, to 
 render an account of Claire's patrimony. As if I ever 
 kept accounts ! It is shameful. Ah ! if Claire had any 
 sense of filial duty, she would quietly take the veil in 
 some convent. I would use every effort to pay the ne- 
 cessary dower ; but she has no affection for me." 
 
 Daburon felt that the time to speak had arrived. He 
 collected his courage, as a good horseman pulls his horse 
 together the moment he faces the leap, and in a voice 
 which he tried to render firm, commenced, 
 
 " Madame, I know, I believe, just the person for 
 Mademoiselle Claire, an honest man, who loves her, 
 and who will do every thing in the world to make her 
 happy." 
 
 "That," said Madame d'Arlanges, "is always un- 
 derstood." 
 
 " The man of whom I speak," continued the judge, 
 " is still young, and is rich. He will be only too happy 
 to receive Mademoiselle Claire without dowry. Not
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 131 
 
 only will he decline an examination of your accounts of 
 guardianship, but he will supply you with means to free 
 your own property of all incumbrance." 
 
 " Peste ! " exclaimed the old dame ; " you are not a 
 bad friend, M. Daburon ! " 
 
 "If you prefer to place your fortune in an annuity, 
 your son-in-law will make good whatever deficiency re- 
 mains." 
 
 " Ah ! I am suffocating. If you have known such a 
 man, why have you not already presented him ? " 
 
 " I did not dare, madame : I was afraid." 
 
 " Quick ! tell me who is this admirable son-in-law, 
 this white blackbird ? where does he nestle ? " 
 
 The judge felt a strange fluttering of the heart: he 
 was going to stake his happiness on a word. At length, 
 he stammered, 
 
 " It is I, madame ! " 
 
 His voice, his look, his suppliant gesture, were ridicu- 
 lous in the eyes of the old lady ; and she laughed till the 
 tears came. He, frightened at his own audacity, stunned 
 at having vanquished his timidity, was on the point of 
 falling at her feet. At last, raising her shoulders, she 
 cried, 
 
 " My dear Daburon, you are too ridiculous ! In good 
 truth, you will rnake me die of laughing." 
 
 But suddenly, in the very height of her merriment 
 she stopped, and assumed her most dignified air. 
 
 " Are you perfectly serious in all you have told me, 
 M. Daburon ? " 
 
 " I have stated the truth," murmured the judge. 
 
 " You are very rich, then ? " 
 
 " I have, madame, in right of my mother, about 
 twenty thousand livres a year. One of my uncles died 
 about a year ago, leaving me a hundred thousand
 
 132 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 crowns. My father is worth not less than a million. 
 Were I to ask him for the half to-morrow, he would 
 give it to me. He would give me all his fortune, if it 
 were necessary to my happiness, and be but too well 
 contented, should I relieve him of its administration." 
 
 Madame d'Arlanges made a sign to him to be silent ; 
 and, for five good minutes at least, she remained plunged 
 in reflection, her forehead resting in her hands. At 
 length she raised her head. 
 
 " Hear me," said she. " Had you been so hardy as 
 to make this proposal to Claire's father, he would have 
 called his servants to show you the door ; but I am old 
 and desolate. I am poor. My grandchild's prospects 
 disquiet me; and that is my excuse for not acting in 
 like manner. I cannot, however, consent to speak to 
 Claire of this horrible mesalliance. This much I can 
 promise you ; and it is much, I will not be against you. 
 Take your own measures. Pay your addresses to Ma- 
 demoiselle d'Arlanges. Let her decide. If she says 
 ' yes,' I shall not say ' no/ " 
 
 Daburon transported with happiness, would have 
 embraced the old lady, if he dared. He never dreamed 
 of the facility with which this fierce soul had been 
 brought to yield. He was delirious. 
 
 " Wait ! " said the old lady ; " your cause is not yet 
 gained. Your mother, it is true, was a Cottevise; and 
 I must excuse her for marrying so wretchedly : but your 
 father is Sieur Daburon. This name, my dear friend, 
 is simply ridiculous. Do you think it will be possible to 
 wrap up in Daburon a young girl who for eighteen years 
 has been called d'Arlanges ? " 
 
 This objection did not seem to trouble the judge. 
 
 " After all," continued the old lady, " your father has 
 gained a Cottevise : you may win a d'Arlanges ; and, on
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 133 
 
 the strength of an alliance with the daughter of a house 
 whose nobility has descended from sire to son for so 
 many generations, the Daburons may end by being en- 
 nobled. Who knows? One last advice: you believe 
 Claire to be just as she looks, timid, sweet, obedient. 
 Undeceive yourself, my friend. With her saintly air 
 and delicate touch, she is hardy, fierce, and obstinate as 
 the, marquis her father was, who resembled a mule of 
 Auvergne. You see, I forewarn you. Our conditions 
 are agreed to, are they not ? Let us say no more on the 
 subject. I wish you every success." 
 
 This scene was so present to his mind as he sat there 
 at midnight in his own house in his arm-chair, after 
 so long a lapse of time that he still seemed to hear the 
 old lady's voice ; and this word " success " sounded in 
 his ear. 
 
 He departed in triumph from the Hotel d'Arlanges, 
 which he had entered with a heart swelling with anx- 
 iety. 
 
 He walked with his head high, his chest dilated, 
 breathing the air with full respirations. 
 
 He was so happy ! The sky appeared to him more 
 blue, the sun more brilliant. 
 
 The grave magistrate felt a mad desire to stop the 
 passers by, to press them in his arms, to cry to them, 
 
 " Do you not know, the marquise consents ? " 
 
 He walked ; and the earth seemed to him to bound be- 
 neath his steps. He felt too small to contain his hap- 
 piness, too light to remain on earth. He was going to 
 fly away toward the stars. 
 
 What a castle in Spain did he build upon this little 
 word of the marquise! He tendered his resignation. 
 He built on the banks of the Loire, not far from Tours, 
 an enchanting little villa. He saw it smiling, with its
 
 134 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 facade to the rising sun, seated in the midst of flowers, 
 and shaded with great trees. He furnished this dwell- 
 ing as if for the reception of the queen of the fairies. 
 He wished to provide a casket worthy the pearl he was 
 going to possess, for he had not a dread of shipwreck, 
 to obscure the horizon made radiant by his hopes, not a 
 voice at the bottom of his heart raised itself to cry, " Be- 
 ware ! " 
 
 From this time, his visits to the marquise became 
 more frequent. He might be said to live at her house. 
 
 While he preserved his respectful and reserved de- 
 meanor towards Claire, he strove assiduously to be 
 something in her life. He strove to conquer his timid- 
 ity, to speak to this well beloved of his soul, to con- 
 verse with her, to interest her. 
 
 He went in quest of novelty, to amuse her. He read 
 all the new books, and brought to her all that were fit 
 for her to read. 
 
 Little by little he succeeded, thanks to the most deli- 
 cate persistence, in taming his wood pigeon. He began 
 to perceive that her fear of him had almost disappeared, 
 that she no longer received him with the cold and 
 haughty air which so long had kept him at a distance. 
 He felt that insensibly he was advancing in her con- 
 fidence. She still blushed when she spoke to him ; but 
 she no longer hesitated to address the first word. She 
 even ventured at times to ask him a question. She had 
 heard a play spoken of, and wished to know the sub- 
 ject. M. Daburon quickly ran to see it, and committed 
 a complete account of it to writing, which he addressed 
 to her by mail. At times she entrusted him with trifling 
 commissions, the execution of which he would not have 
 exchanged for a Russian embassy. 
 
 Once he ventured to send her a magnificent bouquet.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 135 
 
 She accepted it with an air of suppressed disquietude, 
 and begged him not to repeat the offering. 
 
 The tears came to his eyes ; and he left her presence 
 wounded, the unhappiest of men. 
 
 But, three days after, she raised him from this de- 
 spair, by begging him to look for certain flowers, then 
 very much in fashion, she wanted for her little garden. 
 He sent enough to fill the house from the garret to the 
 cellar. 
 
 " She loves me," he whispered to himself. 
 
 These little events, so great, had not interrupted the 
 parties at piquet ; only the young girl now appeared in- 
 terested in the game, nearly always taking part with the 
 judge against the marquise. She did not understand 
 the game very well ; but, when the old gambler cheated 
 too openly, she would perceive it, and say laughing, 
 
 " She is robbing you, M. Daburon, she is robbing 
 you!" 
 
 He would willingly be robbed of his entire fortune, 
 to hear that sweet voice raised for him. 
 
 It was summer. 
 
 Often in the evening she accepted his arm ; and, while 
 the marquise remained in the porch, seated in her arm- 
 chair, they walked around the garden, treading lightly 
 upon the paths spread with gravel, sifted so fine that 
 the trailing of her light robe effaced the traces of their 
 footsteps. She chatted gaily with him, as with a be- 
 loved brother ; while he was obliged to do violence to his 
 feelings, to refrain from imprinting a kiss upon the little 
 blonde head, from which the light breeze lifted the curls 
 and scattered them like fleecy clouds. At such mo- 
 ments, he seemed to tread a triumphant path, strewn 
 with flowers, and saw at the end happiness. 
 
 He attempted to speak of his hopes to the marquise.
 
 136 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " You know what we have agreed upon," she would 
 say. " Not a word. Already does the voice of con- 
 science reproach me with my fault in lending my coun- 
 tenance to this abomination. To think that I may one 
 day have a granddaughter who calls herself Daburon! 
 I must petition the king, my friend, to change this 
 name." 
 
 If, instead of intoxicating himself with dreams of 
 happiness, this acute observer had studied the character 
 of his idol, the effect might have been to put him upon 
 his guard. 
 
 In the mean while, he remarked singular alterations 
 in her humor. On certain days she was gay and care- 
 less as a child. Then, for a week, she would remain 
 sombre and dejected. Seeing her in this state the 
 day following a ball, to which her grandmother had 
 taken her, he dared to ask her the reason of her 
 sadness. 
 
 " Oh ! that," answered she, heaving a deep sigh, " is 
 my secret, a secret of which even my grandmother 
 knows nothing." 
 
 Daburon looked at her. He thought he saw a tear 
 between her long eyelashes. 
 
 " One day," continued she, " I may confide in you : 
 it will be necessary, perhaps." 
 
 The judge was blind and deaf. 
 
 " I also," answered he, " have a secret, which I wish 
 to confide to you in return." 
 
 When retiring after midnight, he said to himself, 
 " To-morrow I will confess every thing to her." 
 
 There passed a little more than fifty days, during 
 which he kept repeating to himself, 
 
 " To-morrow ! " 
 
 One evening in the month of August, the heat all
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 137 
 
 day had been overpowering, a breeze had risen. The 
 leaves rustled: there were signs of a storm in the at- 
 mosphere. 
 
 They were seated together at the bottom of the gar- 
 den, under the arbor, adorned with flowers which Claire 
 had planted ; and, through the branches, they perceived 
 the fluttering head-dress of the marquise, who was tak- 
 ing her accustomed walk after supper. 
 
 They had remained a long time without speaking, en- 
 joying the perfume of the flowers, the calm beauty of 
 the evening. Daburon had ventured to take the young 
 girl's hand. 
 
 It was the first time ; and the touch of her slender fin- 
 gers thrilled through every fibre of his frame, and drove 
 the blood surging to his brain. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," stammered he, " Claire." 
 
 She stopped him, by turning upon him her beautiful 
 eyes, filled with astonishment. 
 
 " Pardon me," continued he, " pardon me. I have 
 addressed your grandmother, before venturing to speak 
 to you. Do you not understand me, Claire? A word 
 from your lips decides my future happiness or misery. 
 Claire, mademoiselle, I love you ! " 
 
 While the magistrate was speaking, the young girl 
 looked at him as though doubtful of the evidence of her 
 senses ; but at the words, " I love you ! " pronounced 
 with the trembling accents of passion, she disengaged 
 her hand rudely, and uttered a stifled cry. 
 
 "You," murmured she, "is this really true?" 
 
 M. Daburon at this, the most critical moment of his 
 life, was powerless to utter a word. The presentiment 
 of an immense misfortune oppressed his heart. What 
 divined he, when he saw Claire burst into a flood of 
 tears.
 
 138 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 She hid her face between her hands, and repeated, 
 
 " I am very unhappy, very unhappy ! " 
 
 " You unhappy ? " cried the magistrate. " And 
 through me, Claire ? You are cruel ! In heaven's name, 
 what have I done ? What is the matter ? Speak ! Any 
 thing rather than this anxiety, which is killing me ! " 
 
 He knelt before her on the gravelled walk, and made 
 an attempt to again take her hand. She repulsed him 
 with an imploring gesture. 
 
 " Let me weep," said she ; " you are going to hate 
 me. I feel it. Who knows, to despise me, perhaps? 
 And yet I swear before heaven that I was ignorant of 
 what you have just said to me, that I had not even a 
 suspicion of it ! " 
 
 Daburon remained upon his knees, awaiting his doom. 
 
 " Yes," continued Claire, " you will think you have 
 been the victim of a detestable coquetry. I see it now ! 
 I comprehend every thing ! Is it possible, that, without 
 a profound love, a man cannot be all that you have been 
 to me ? Alas ! I was deceived. I gave myself up to the 
 great happiness of having a friend! Am I not alone 
 in the world, as if lost in a desert ? Mad and imprudent, 
 I devoted myself to you without reflection, as to the 
 most indulgent of fathers." 
 
 These words revealed to the unfortunate judge a 
 complete understanding of his error. As a hammer of 
 steel it smashed into a thousand fragments the fragile 
 edifice of his hopes. He raised himself slowly ; and, in a 
 tone of involuntary reproach, he repeated, 
 
 " Your father ! " 
 
 The young girl felt how deeply she had wounded him ; 
 but she knew not the intense depth of his love. 
 
 " Yes," she repeated, " a father ! Seeing you so 
 grave and austere, become for me so good, so indulgent,
 
 " Claire Mademoiselle I love you."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 139 . 
 
 I thanked heaven for sending me a protector to replace 
 the father I have lost." 
 
 Daburon could not restrain a sob; his heart was 
 breaking. 
 
 " One word," continued Claire, " one single word, 
 would have enlightened me. That word, until to-night, 
 you have never pronounced. And with what comfort I 
 have leaned upon you, as an infant upon its mother; 
 with what inward joy I have said to myself, ' I am sure 
 of one friend, one heart into which runs the overflow 
 of mine.' Ah! why was not my confidence greater? 
 Why have I withheld my secret from you? I would 
 have avoided this fearful calamity. I ought to have 
 long since told what I must tell you now. I belong not 
 to myself, but to another, to whom I have freely and 
 with happiness given my life." 
 
 To hover in the clouds, and suddenly be cast rudely 
 to the earth. The sufferings of the judge are not to 
 be described. 
 
 " Better had I had the courage to speak long since," 
 answered he ; " yet, no : I owe to silence six months of 
 delicious illusions, six months of enchanting dreams. 
 This shall be my share of life's happiness." 
 
 The last beams of closing day permitted the magis- 
 trate again to see Mademoiselle d'Arlanges. Her beau- 
 tiful face was blanched to a deathlike whiteness, and 
 was immovable in its expression as marble. Large tears 
 rolled silently down her cheeks. Daburon seemed to 
 contemplate the frightful spectacle of a weeping statue. 
 
 " You love another," said he at length, " another ? 
 and your grandmother is ignorant? Claire, you can- 
 not have chosen a man unworthy of your love? How 
 is it your grandmother does not receive him ? " 
 
 " There are certain obstacles," murmured Claire,
 
 140 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 '* obstacles which perhaps we may never be able to re- 
 move ; but a girl like me can love but once. She marries 
 him she loves, or she remains with heaven ! " 
 
 " Certain obstacles/' said Daburon in a hollow voice. 
 " You love a man : he knows it ; and he meets with ob- 
 stacles ? " 
 
 " I am poor," answered Mademoiselle d'Arlanges ; 
 " and his family is immensely rich. His father is cruel, 
 inexorable." 
 
 " His father," cried the magistrate, with a bitterness 
 he did not dream of hiding, " his father, his family ; 
 and that withholds him? You are poor: he is rich; 
 and that stops him, and he knows you love him ? Ah ! 
 why am I not in his place ; and why have not I against 
 me the entire universe? What sacrifice could compare 
 with love like mine? Nay, would it be a sacrifice? 
 What to others might appear so, to me would be simply 
 joy. Suffer, struggle, wait, so long as hope remains; 
 that is to love." 
 
 " It is thus I love," said Claire with simplicity. 
 
 This answer crushed the judge. He understood that 
 for him there was no hope ; but he felt a terrible enjoy- 
 ment in plumbing the depth of his misfortune. 
 
 " But," insisted he, " how have you known him, 
 spoken to him? Where? When? Madame d'Arlanges 
 receives no one." 
 
 " I will tell you every thing," answered she in a de- 
 cided tone. " It is a long time since I have known 
 him. It was at the house of one of my grandmother's 
 friends, who was a cousin of his, old Mademoiselle 
 Goello, that I saw him for the first time. There we 
 first met; there we meet each other now." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Daburon to himself, " I remember 
 now. A few days before your visit to Mademoiselle
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 141 
 
 Goello, you are gayer than usual ; and, when you return, 
 you are often sad." 
 
 " That is because I see how much he is pained by the 
 obstacles he cannot overcome." 
 
 "His family is, then, so illustrious," said he, "that 
 it disdains alliance with yours ? " 
 
 " You shall know every thing, without question, mon- 
 sieur," answered Mademoiselle d'Arlanges. " His name 
 is Albert de Commarin." 
 
 The marquise, at this moment, thinking she had 
 walked enough, prepared to regain her rose-colored 
 boudoir. She approached the arbor. 
 
 " Incorruptible magistrate ! " said she, in her great 
 voice, " the table is set for piquet." 
 
 Mechanically the magistrate arose, stammering, " 1 
 am coming." 
 
 Claire held his arm. 
 
 " I have not asked you to be secret, monsieur," said 
 she. 
 
 " O mademoiselle! " said the judge, wounded by this 
 appearance of doubt. 
 
 " I know," said Claire, " that I can count upon you ; 
 but, come what will, my tranquillity is lost." 
 
 Daburon regarded her with an air of surprise; his 
 eye questioned her. 
 
 " It is certain," said she, answering the look, " that 
 what I, a young and inexperienced girl, have failed to 
 see, has not been unnoticed by my grandmother. That 
 she has continued to receive you is a tacit encourage- 
 ment of your addresses; which I consider, permit me 
 to say, as very honorable to me." 
 
 " I have already mentioned, Mademoiselle, that the 
 marquise has deigned to authorize my hopes." 
 
 And briefly he related his interview with Madame
 
 142 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 d'Arlanges, having the delicacy to omit absolutely the 
 question of money, which had so strongly influenced the 
 old lady. 
 
 " I see very plainly what effect this will have on my 
 peace," said she sadly, " when she learns that I have not 
 received your homage." 
 
 " You do not know me, mademoiselle," said he. " I 
 have nothing to say to the marquise. I will retire ; and 
 all will be concluded." 
 
 " Oh ! you are good and generous, I know ! " 
 
 " I will go away," pursued Daburon ; " and soon you 
 will have forgotten even the name of the unfortunate 
 whose life is broken." 
 
 " You do not mean what you say ? " asked the young 
 girl quickly. 
 
 " Well, no. I will flatter myself with a hope, that, 
 later, my remembrance will not be without pleasure to 
 you. Sometimes you will say ' He loved me,' and think 
 of me as a friend, your most devoted friend." 
 
 Claire, in her turn, took with emotion his hands with- 
 in her own. 
 
 " Yes," said she ; " you must remain my friend. Let 
 us forget what has happened, what you have said to- 
 night, and remain to me. as in the past, the best, the 
 most indulgent of brothers." 
 
 The darkness had come, and she could not see him; 
 but she knew he was weeping, for he was slow to an- 
 swer. 
 
 " Is it possible," murmured he at length, " that you 
 can ask that? Do you, who talk to me of for- 
 getting, feel the power to forget? Do you not 
 know that I love you a thousand times more than 
 you love " 
 
 He stopped, unable to pronounce the name of Com-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 143 
 
 marin ; and then, with an effort, he added, " and I shall 
 love you always." 
 
 He had left the arbor, and was now on the steps of 
 the porch. 
 
 " And now, mademoiselle, adieu ! You will see me 
 again rarely. I shall only return often enough to avoid 
 the appearance of a rupture." 
 
 His voice trembled, so that with difficulty he made 
 it distinct. 
 
 " Whatever may come in the future," added he, " re- 
 member that there is one in the world who belongs to 
 you absolutely. If ever you have need of a friend's de- 
 votion, come to me, come to your friend. Let me go. 
 It is over. I have courage, Claire. Mademoiselle, for 
 the last time, adieu ! " 
 
 She was little less dismayed than he was. Instinc- 
 tively she advanced her head ; and M. Daburon touched 
 lightly with his cold lips, for the first and last time, the 
 forehead of her he loved so well. 
 
 They mounted the steps, she leaning on his arm, and 
 entered the rose-colored boudoir where the marquise 
 was seated, impatiently shuffling the cards, while await- 
 ing her victim. 
 
 " Now, then, incorruptible judge," cried she. 
 
 But Daburon felt sick at heart. He could not have 
 held the cards. He stammered some absurd excuses,, 
 spoke of pressing affairs, of duties to be attended to, 
 of unexpected news, and went out, clinging to the walls. 
 
 His departure made the old cardplayer indignant. 
 She turned to her granddaughter, who was endeavor- 
 ing to hide her confusion behind the wax candles of 
 the card-table, and demanded, 
 
 " What has happened to M. Daburon this evening? " 
 
 " I do not know, madame," stammered Claire.
 
 144 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " It appears to me," continued the marquise, " that 
 the little judge permits himself to take singular liber- 
 ties. He must be reminded of his proper place, or he 
 will finish by believing himself our equal." 
 
 Claire essayed to justify the magistrate. 
 
 " He has been complaining all the evening, grand- 
 mamma ; may he not be sick ? " 
 
 "What if he should be?" exclaimed the old lady. 
 " Is it not his duty to exercise some self-denial, in re- 
 turn for the honor of our company? I think I have 
 already related to you the story of your granduncle, 
 the Duke de St. Hurluge, who, having attended the 
 king's hunting party, on their return from the chase 
 lost with the best grace in the world two hundred and 
 twenty pistoles. All the assembly remarked his gaiety 
 and his good humor. The following day it was learned, 
 that, during the chase, he had fallen from his horse 
 and had sat at his majesty's card-table with a broken 
 rib, rather than mar the enjoyment of the company by 
 a complaint. Nobody made any outcry, so perfectly 
 natural did an act of ordinary politeness appear in those 
 days. This little judge, if he is sick, should have given 
 proof of his breeding by saying nothing about it, and 
 remaining for my piquet. But he is as well as I am. 
 Who can tell what games he has gone to play else- 
 where?" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DABURON did not return home on leaving the Hotel 
 d'Arlanges. All the night he wandered at random, he 
 knew not whither, seeking a little coolness for his burn- 
 ing head, a little calm for his overloaded and bursting 
 heart.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 145 
 
 " Fool that I was," said he to himself. " Thousand 
 times fool to have hoped, to have believed, that she 
 would ever love me. Insensible ! how could I have 
 dreamed of possessing so much grace, nobleness, and 
 beauty ! How charming she was this evening, when her 
 face was wet with tears. Could any thing be more an- 
 gelic? What a sublime expression her eyes had in 
 speaking of him ! How she must love him ! And I ? 
 She loves me as a father. She told me so, as a father. 
 And could it be otherwise? Is it not justice? Ought 
 she to see a lover in this magistrate, sombre and severe, 
 always as sad as his black costume? Was it not a 
 crime to dream of uniting that virginal simplicity to my 
 detestable worldly science? For her, the future is yet 
 the land of smiling chimeras ; and long since experience 
 has dissipated all my illusions. She is as young as In- 
 nocence : I am as old as Vice." 
 
 The unfortunate magistrate made himself veritably a 
 horror. He understood Claire, and he excused her. He 
 even wished he could himself suffer the sadness he had 
 brought upon her. He reproached himself with having 
 cast a shadow upon her life. He could not forgive him- 
 self for having spoken of his love. Ought he not to have 
 foreseen what had happened, that she would refuse 
 him, that he would thus deprive himself of the hap- 
 piness of seeing her, of hearing her, of silently adoring 
 her? 
 
 " A young and romantic girl," pursued the judge, 
 " must have a lover she can dream of, whom she can 
 caress in imagination, as an ideal, pleasing herself by 
 seeing in him every great and brilliant quality, imagin- 
 ing him full of nobleness, of bravery, of heroism. What 
 would she see, if, in my absence, shd dreamed of me? 
 Her imagination would present me dressed in a funeral
 
 146 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 robe, in the depth of a gloomy dungeon, engaged with 
 some foul criminal. Is it not my trade to descend into 
 all the moral sinks, to stir up the foulness of crime? 
 Am I not compelled to wash in secrecy and shadow the 
 foul linen of society ? Ah ! it is a fatal profession. Am 
 I punished thus, because, like the priest, the judge 
 should condemn himself to solitude and celibacy ? Both 
 know all: they hear all, their costumes are nearly the 
 same ; but, while the priest in the fold of his black robe 
 carries consolation, the judge carries terror. One is 
 mercy, the other chastisement. Such are the images 
 awakened; while the other, the other " 
 
 The wretched man continued his headlong course 
 along the deserted quays. 
 
 He went with his head bare,, his eyes haggard. To 
 breathe more freely he had torn off his cravat and 
 thrown it to the winds. 
 
 Sometimes, unconsciously, he crossed the path of a 
 solitary wayfarer, who would pause, touched with pity, 
 and turn to watch the retreating figure of the unfor- 
 tunate wretch he thought deprived of reason. 
 
 In a by-road, near Crenelle, some officers stopped, and 
 tried to question him. He mechanically tendered them 
 his card. They read it, and permitted him to pass, con- 
 vinced that he was drunk. 
 
 Anger, a furious anger, began to replace his first 
 feeling of resignation. In his heart arose a hate, 
 stronger and more violent than even his love for Claire. 
 
 This other, this preferred, this noble viscount, who 
 could not overcome these paltry obstacles, oh, that he 
 had him there, under his knee ! 
 
 At this moment, this noble and proud man, this mag- 
 istrate, so severe and grave, felt an irresistible longing 
 for vengeance. He began to understand the hate that
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 147, 
 
 armed itself with the poniard, and lay in ambush in dark 
 corners; which struck in the darkness, whether in the 
 face or in the back, it mattered little, but which struck, 
 which killed, whose vengeance blood alone could sat- 
 isfy. 
 
 At this very hour, he was charged with the conduct 
 of an inquiry into the case of an unfortunate young girl, 
 accused of having stabbed one of her wretched com- 
 panions. 
 
 She was jealous of this woman, who had tried to take 
 her lover from her. He was a soldier, very fat and very 
 ugly. 
 
 Daburon felt himself seized with pity for this miser- 
 able creature, whom he had commenced to examine the 
 day previous. 
 
 She was very ugly, truly repulsive ; but the expres- 
 sion of her eyes, when speaking of her soldier, returned 
 to the memory of the judge. 
 
 " She loved him veritably," thought he. " If each one 
 of her jurors could suffer what I am suffering now, she 
 would be acquitted. But how many men have had in 
 their lives a passion ? Perhaps not one in twenty." 
 
 He resolved to recommend this girl to the indulgence 
 of the tribunal, and extenuate as much as he could the 
 punishment of her crime. 
 
 He had himself resolved upon the commission of a 
 crime. 
 
 He was resolved to kill Albert de Commarin. 
 
 During the rest of the night, he did but confirm him- 
 self in this resolution, demonstrating by a thousand 
 mad reasons, which he found solid and inscrutable, the 
 necessity for another legitimacy of this vengeance. 
 
 At seven o'clock in the morning, he found himself in 
 an alley of the Bois de Boulogne, not far from the lake.
 
 148 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 He gained the Maillot gate, called a carriage, and was 
 driven to his house. 
 
 The delirium of the night continued, but without suf- 
 fering. He was conscious of no fatigue, calm and 
 cool apparently, but under the empire of an hallucina- 
 tion, in a state approaching somnambulism. 
 
 He reflected and reasoned, but without reason. 
 
 He dressed himself with care, as was his custom 
 formerly when visiting the Marquise d'Arlanges, and 
 went out. 
 
 He first called at an armorers, and bought a small 
 revolver, which he caused to be carefully loaded under 
 his own eyes, and put into his pocket. He threw him- 
 self in the way of persons he supposed capable of in- 
 forming him to what club the viscount belonged. No 
 one perceived the strange situation of his mind, so nat- 
 ural were his manners and conversation. 
 
 It was not until the afternoon he found a young 
 friend, a member of Albert de Commarin's club, who 
 offered to conduct him thither and present him. 
 
 Daburon accepted warmly, and accompanied his 
 friend. 
 
 While passing along he grasped with frenzy the 
 handle of the revolver, which he kept concealed, think- 
 ing only of the murder he determined to commit, and 
 the means of insuring the accuracy of his aim. 
 
 " This will make," thought he, " a terrible scandal ; 
 above all, if I do not succeed : Well, if I fail, I shall go 
 mad. They will arrest me, throw me into prison. I 
 shall be placed upon trial at the court of assize, my name 
 dishonored! Bast! what does that import to me? I 
 am not loved by Claire. What to me is all the rest 
 My father without doubt will die of grief ; but / must 
 be revenged."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 149 
 
 Arrived at the club, his friend pointed out to him a 
 very distinguished looking young man, of a brown com- 
 plexion, with a haughty air, or what appeared so to him, 
 who, seated at a table, was reading a review. It was the 
 viscount. 
 
 Daburon marched upon him without drawing his re- 
 volver. Arrived within two paces, his heart failed 
 him: he turned suddenly and fled, leaving his friend 
 astonished at a scene, to him utterly inexplicable. 
 
 Albert de Commarin will be as near death but once 
 again. 
 
 When he reached the street, Daburon felt the ground 
 flying beneath his feet, every thing turning around 
 him. He tried, but was unable to cry out : he struck at 
 the air with his hands, reeled an instant, and then fell 
 helpless on the pavement. 
 
 The passers by ran and assisted the police to raise 
 him. In one of his pockets they found his address, and 
 carried him to his house. When he recovered his senses, 
 he lay upon his bed, at the foot of which he perceived 
 his father. 
 
 " What has taken place ? " he asked. With much 
 caution they told him, that for six weeks he had wavered 
 between life and death. The doctors had declared his 
 life saved ; and, now that reason was restored, all would 
 go well. 
 
 Five minutes' conversation exhausted him. He shut 
 his eyes, and tried to collect his ideas ; but they whirled 
 hither and thither wildly, as autumn leaves in the wind. 
 The past seemed shrouded in a dark mist; yet, in the 
 midst of all the darkness and confusion, the memory of 
 his scene with Mademoiselle d'Arlanges stood out be- 
 fore his mental vision clear and luminous. All his ac- 
 tions up to the moment when he embraced Claire were
 
 150 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 marked, as in a picture strongly drawn. He trembled ; 
 and his hair was in a moment damp with perspira- 
 tion. 
 
 He had failed to become an assassin. 
 
 The proof that he was restored to full possession of 
 his faculties was, that a question of criminal law crossed 
 his brain. 
 
 " The crime committed," said he to himself, " should 
 I have been condemned? Yes. Was I responsible? 
 No. Would an action committed in a state of mental 
 alienation be a crime ? Was I mad ? Or was I in a pe- 
 culiar state of mind which always precedes an illegal 
 attempt? Who can answer? Why have not all judges 
 passed through an incomprehensible crisis such as mine ? 
 Who would believe me, were I to recount my expe- 
 rience ? " 
 
 Some days later, he was sufficiently recovered to 
 tell his father all. The old gentleman shrugged his 
 shoulders, and assured him it was but a reminiscence of 
 his delirium. 
 
 The good old man was moved at the story of his son's 
 luckless wooing, without seeing therein an irreparable 
 misfortune. He advised him to think of something else, 
 placed at his disposal his entire fortune, and recom- 
 mended him to marry a stout Poitevine heiress, very 
 pretty and good humored, who would make him an ex- 
 cellent wife. Then, as his farm was suffering by his 
 absence, he returned to his province. Two months 
 later, the judge of inquiry had resumed his ordinary 
 avocations. But it was hard work. He went through 
 his duties like a body without a soul. He felt that his 
 heart was broken. 
 
 Once he ventured to pay a visit to his old friend, the 
 marquise. On seeing him, she uttered a cry of terror.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 151 
 
 She took him for a spectre, so much was he changed in 
 appearance. 
 
 As she dreaded dismal figures, she shut herself from 
 him in the future. 
 
 Claire was sick for a week after seeing him. " How 
 he loved me ! " thought she. " He has almost died for 
 me ! Does Albert love me as much ? " 
 
 She did not dare to answer herself. She felt a desire 
 to console him, to speak to him, attempt something ; but 
 he came no more. 
 
 Daburon was not, however, a man to be overthrown 
 without a struggle. He tried, as his father advised him, 
 to distract his thoughts. He sought for pleasure, and 
 found disgust, but not forgetfulness. Often he went 
 so far as the threshold of dissipation ; always the pure 
 figure of Claire, dressed in white garments, barred the 
 doors against him. 
 
 Then he took refuge in work, as in a sanctuary ; con- 
 demned himself to the most incessant labor, forbade 
 himself to think of Claire, as the consumptive forbids 
 himself to recollect his malady. 
 
 His asperity in his labor, his feverish activity,, was 
 worth the reputation of an ambitious man ; but he took 
 no real interest in any thing. 
 
 At length, though he found not rest, this engrossing 
 occupation exempted him from the sorrow which com- 
 monly follows a great catastrophe. The convalescence of 
 oblivion commenced. 
 
 These were the events, recalled to Daburon by Pere 
 Tabaret, in pronouncing the name of Commarin. He 
 believed them buried under the ashes of time; and be- 
 hold they came up, as those characters traced in sym- 
 pathetic ink appear when held before a fire, on paper 
 apparently blank. In an instant they unrolled them-
 
 152 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 selves before his memory, with the instantaneousness of 
 a dream, annihilating time and space. 
 
 During some minutes, he assisted at the representa- 
 tion of his own life. At once actor and spectator, he 
 was there seated in his arm-chair ; and he appeared to 
 himself as in a theatre. He acted, and he judged him- 
 self. 
 
 His first thought, it must be confessed, was one of 
 hate, followed by a detestable sentiment of satisfaction. 
 Chance had delivered to him this man preferred by 
 Claire, this man no longer a haughty gentleman, illus- 
 trious by his fortune and his ancestors, but an illegiti- 
 mate offspring of a femme convert. To guard a stolen 
 name, he had committed a most cowardly assassination. 
 And he the judge, was to experience the infinite grati- 
 fication of striking his enemy with the sword of justice. 
 
 But this was only a passing thought. The conscience 
 of the man revolted against it, and made its powerful 
 voice heard above the whispers of selfishness. 
 
 " Is any thing," it cried, " more monstrous than the 
 association of these two ideas, hatred and justice? A 
 judge. Can he, without despising himself more than 
 the vile beings he condemns, remind himself that a 
 criminal whose fate is in his hands has been his enemy ? 
 A judge of inquiry. Has he a right to sit in judgment 
 on a man against whom he harbors in his heart one drop 
 of gall?" 
 
 Daburon repeated to himself many times during the 
 year, on commencing an inquiry, 
 
 "And I also, I almost stained myself with dread- 
 ful murder ! " 
 
 And now observe what he was about to do, to arrest, 
 interrogate, and hand over to the court of assize the 
 man he had once the firm determination to kill.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 153 
 
 All the world, it is true, ignores the crime of thought 
 and intention ; but could he himself forget it ? Was not 
 this, of all others, a case to except against, to give his 
 resignation? Ought he not to withdraw, and wash his 
 hands of bloodshed, leaving to another the care of 
 avenging society ? 
 
 " No," said he, " it would be a cowardice unworthy 
 of me." 
 
 A project of mad generosity came to him. " If I save 
 him," murmured he, " if for sake of Claire I leave him 
 his honor and his life, but how can I save him? I 
 shall be obliged to suppress Pere Tabaret's testimony, 
 and impose upon him the complicity of silence. It will 
 be necessary to make him voluntarily take a false road, 
 and run with Gevrol after a chimerical murderer. Is 
 this practicable? On the other hand, to spare Albert is 
 to defame Noel; it is to assure impunity to the most 
 odious of crimes. In fine, it is to sacrifice human jus- 
 tice to human feeling." 
 
 The magistrate suffered. 
 
 How to choose a path in the midst of so many per- 
 plexities ! Dragged each way by different interests, he 
 wavered, undecided, between determinations the most 
 opposite, his mind oscillating from one extreme to the 
 other. 
 
 What to do? His reason after this new and unfore- 
 seen shock vainly sought to regain its equilibrium. 
 
 " Retreat ? " said he to himself. " Where, then, is my 
 courage? Ought I not rather to remain the representa- 
 tive of the law, incapable of emotion, insensible to preju- 
 dice? Am I so feeble that, in assuming my role, I am 
 unable to divest myself of my personality? Can I not, 
 for the present, make abstraction of the past ? My duty 
 is to pursue this inquiry. Claire herself would order
 
 154 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 me to act thus. Would she desire to wed a man soiled 
 by suspicion of a crime ? Never. For Claire's sake, then, 
 I will go on ; that, if innocent, he may be restored to her, 
 and, if guilty, she may be delivered from all further 
 contact with a man so unworthy of her pure affec- 
 tion." 
 
 This was very strong reasoning ; but, at the bottom of 
 his heart, a thousand disquietudes darted their thorns. 
 He wanted something more to reassure him. 
 
 " Do I still hate this young man ? " he continued. 
 " No, certainly. If Claire has preferred him to me, it is 
 to Claire and not him I owe my suffering. My fury was 
 no more than a passing fit of delirium. I will prove it. 
 by letting him find in me as much of counsellor as judge. 
 If he is not guilty, he w r ill dispose of all this formidable 
 array of evidence, placed by Pere Tabaret in the hands 
 of justice, by establishing counter-proofs of his inno- 
 cence. Yes, I am able to be his judge. Heaven, who 
 reads the thoughts of all hearts, sees that I love Claire 
 enough to wish with all my heart the innocence of her 
 lover." 
 
 At this moment, M. Daburon, remembered vaguely 
 the lapse of time. 
 
 It was nearly three o'clock in the morning. 
 
 " Goodness ! " cried he, " and Pere Tabaret is waiting 
 for me. I shall find him asleep." 
 
 But Pere Tabaret was not asleep. He had felt the 
 passage of time no more than the judge. 
 
 Ten minutes had sufficed him to take an inventory 
 of the contents of Daburon's study; which was large, 
 and of a severe magnificence, altogether in accordance 
 with the position and large fortune of the magistrate. 
 Armed with a lamp, he approached six very handsome 
 pictures, which broke the monotony of the wainscoting,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 155 
 
 and admired them. He examined curiously some rare 
 bronzes, placed upon the chimney-piece, and a console. 
 He gave the bookcase the glance of a connoisseur. 
 
 After which, taking an evening paper -from the table, 
 he approached the hearth, and plunged into a vast arm- 
 chair. 
 
 He had not read the third part of the leading article, 
 which, Hke all the leading articles of the time, inter- 
 ested itself exclusively with the Roman question, 
 when, letting the paper drop from his hands he became 
 absorbed in meditation. The fixed idea, stronger than 
 his will, and more interesting to him than politics, car- 
 ried him to Jonchere, where lay the murdered Widow 
 Lerouge. Like the child who builds up and throws 
 down again and again his house of cards, he re-ar- 
 ranged and scattered alternately his series of induc- 
 tions and evidence. 
 
 Certainly there was nothing doubtful or questionable 
 in the evidence. From A to Z, he knew all. He knew 
 what his own impressions had been, on hearing Noel's 
 revelations ; and Daburon, he saw, shared his opinions. 
 What difficulty remained? 
 
 There is between the judge of inquiry and the ac- 
 cused a supreme tribunal, an admirable institution, a 
 powerful moderator, the jury. 
 
 The jury, thank heaven! does not content itself with 
 a moral conviction. The strongest probabilities cannot 
 draw from them an affirmative verdict. 
 
 Placed upon a neutral ground, between the prosecu- 
 tion and the defence, it demands material and tangible 
 proofs. Where the magistrate would condemn twenty 
 times for one, in all security of conscience, the jury ac- 
 quit for lack of satisfying evidence. 
 
 The deplorable execution of Lesurques has certainly
 
 156 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 assured impunity to many criminals ; but, it is necessary 
 to say it justifies hesitation in receiving circumstantial 
 evidence in capital crimes. 
 
 In short, save where a criminal is taken in the very 
 act, or confesses his guilt, it is not certain that the min- 
 ister of justice can secure a conviction. Sometimes the 
 judge of inquiry is as anxious as the accused himself. 
 Nearly all crimes are in some particular point mysteri- 
 ous, perhaps impenetrable to justice and the police; and 
 the duty of the advocate is, to discover this weak point, 
 and thereon establish his client's defence. By pointing 
 out this doubt to the jury, he insinuates in their minds 
 a distrust of the entire evidence; and frequently the 
 detection of a distorted induction, cleverly exposed, can 
 change the face of a prosecution, and make a strong 
 case appear to the jury a weak one. This uncertainty 
 explains the character of passion which is so often per- 
 ceptible in criminal trials. 
 
 And, in proportion to the march of civilization, juries 
 in important trials will become more timid and hesitat- 
 ing. The weight of responsibility oppresses the man of 
 conscientious scruple. Already numbers recoil from the 
 idea of capital punishment; and, whenever a jury can 
 find a peg to hang a doubt on, they will wash their 
 hands of the responsibility of condemnation. We have 
 seen numbers of persons signing appeals for mercy to 
 a condemned malefactor, condemned for what crime? 
 Parricide ! Every juror, from the moment he is sworn, 
 weighs infinitely less the evidence he has come to listen 
 to than the risk he runs of incurring the pangs of re- 
 morse. Rather than risk the condemnation of one in- 
 nocent man, he will allow twenty scoundrels to go un- 
 punished. 
 
 The accusation must, then, come before the jury,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 157 
 
 armed at all points, with both hands full of proofs. A 
 task often tedious to the judge of inquiry, and bristling 
 with difficulties, is the arrangement and condensation 
 of this evidence, particularly when the accused is a 
 miscreant of strength and coolness, certain of having 
 left no traces of his guilt. Then, from the depths of his 
 dungeon he defies the assault of justice, and laughs at 
 the judge of inquiry. It is a terrible struggle, enough 
 to make one tremble at the responsibility of the magis- 
 trate, when he remembers, that, after all, this man im- 
 prisoned, without consolation or advice, may be inno- 
 cent. How hard is it, then, for the judge to resist his 
 moral convictions ! 
 
 Even when presumptive evidence points clearly to the 
 criminal, and common sense recognizes him, Justice is 
 at times compelled to acknowledge her defeat, for lack 
 of what the jury consider sufficient proof of guilt. 
 
 Thus, unhappily, many crimes escape punishment. An 
 old advocate-general one day confessed that he knew 
 as many as three assassins, living rich, happy, and re- 
 spected, who, unless from some improbable accidents, 
 would end by dying in their beds, surrounded by their 
 families, being followed to the grave with lamentations, 
 and praised for their virtues in their epitaphs. 
 
 At the idea that a murderer should escape the penalty 
 of his crime, steal himself away from the very court of 
 assize, Pere Tabaret's blood fairly boiled in his veins, 
 as at the recollection of a cruel personal injury. 
 
 Such a monstrous event, in his opinion, could only 
 proceed from the incapacity of the magistrates charged 
 with the prosecution, the maladdress of the police, or 
 the stupidity of the judge of inquiry. 
 
 " It is not I," he muttered, with the satisfied vanity of 
 success, " who ever let my prey escape. No crime can
 
 158 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 be committed, of which the author cannot be found un- 
 less he happens to be a madman ; in which event, his es- 
 cape is reasonable. I would pass my life in pursuit of a 
 criminal, before avowing myself vanquished, as this 
 Gevrol has done so many times." 
 
 This time again, Pere Tabaret, assisted by chance, 
 had succeeded, he repeated to himself ; but what proofs 
 of innocence would the defence present to this accursed 
 jury, this jury, so difficult to convince, so formal and 
 so cowardly. Who could imagine what means might 
 not be found by a strong man, perfectly on his guard, 
 covered by his position, and without doubt by cunning 
 precautions? What trap had he prepared? To what 
 new and infallible stratagem had he had recourse ? 
 
 The amateur detective exhausted himself in subtle but 
 impracticable combinations, always stopped by this fatal 
 jury, so obnoxious to the chevaliers of the Rue Jerusa- 
 lem. 
 
 He was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts that he 
 did not hear the door open, and continued his reflec- 
 tions unconscious of the judge's presence. 
 
 Daburon's voice aroused him from his reverie. 
 
 " You will excuse me, M. Tabaret, for having left 
 you so long alone." 
 
 The old fellow rose and made a respectful salutation 
 at an angle of forty-five degrees. 
 
 " By my faith, monsieur," replied he, " I have not 
 had the leisure to perceive my solitude." 
 
 Daburon crossed the room, and seated himself, facing 
 his agent before a small table encumbered with papers 
 and documents relating to the crime. He appeared very 
 much fatigued. 
 
 " I have reflected a good deal," he commenced, " on 
 all this affair"
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 159 
 
 " And I," interrupted Pere Tabaret, " was just ask- 
 ing myself, monsieur, what was likely to be the attitude 
 assumed by the viscount at the moment of his arrest. 
 Nothing is more important, according to my theory, 
 than his manner of conducting himself then. Will he 
 attempt to intimidate the agents ? Will he threaten them 
 with expulsion from the house ? These are generally the 
 tactics of titled criminals. My opinion, however, is, 
 that he will remain perfectly cool. This conclusion is 
 logical. It is the character of the perpetrator of the 
 crime to treat the ministers of justice with a superb as- 
 surance. He will declare himself the victim of a misun- 
 derstanding, and insist upon an immediate interview 
 with the judge of inquiry. Once that is accorded to him, 
 he will finish by explaining every thing very quickly." 
 
 The old fellow spoke of matters of speculation in 
 such a tone of assurance that Daburon was unable to re- 
 press a smile. 
 
 " We have not got as far as that yet," said he. 
 
 " But we shall, in some hours," replied Tabaret 
 quickly. " I presume you will order the criminal's ar- 
 rest at daybreak." 
 
 The judge trembled, as the patient who sees the sur- 
 geon on entering deposit his case of instruments upon 
 the table. 
 
 The moment for action had come. He felt now what 
 a distance lies between a mental decision and the physi- 
 cal action resulting therefrom. 
 
 " You are prompt, M. Tabaret," said he ; " you rec- 
 ognize no obstacles." 
 
 " None, having ascertained the criminal. Who else 
 can have committed this assassination? Who but he 
 had an interest in silencing the Widow Lerouge, in 
 suppressing her testimony, in destroying her papers?
 
 160 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Poor Noel ! who is as dull as honesty, has been fore- 
 stalled by this wretch, who stops at nothing. Noel has 
 instituted proceedings to recover his title and estates. 
 Should the guilt of the assassin fail to be established, 
 he will remain de Cammarin more than ever; and my 
 young advocate will be Noel Gerdy to the grave." 
 
 " Yes, but" 
 
 The amateur fixed upon the judge a look of astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " You see, then, some difficulties, monsieur ? " he de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Without doubt ! " replied Daburon. " This is a mat- 
 ter demanding the utmost circumspection. In cases like 
 the present, we must not strike until the blow is sure; 
 and we have but presumptions. We must not deceive 
 ourselves. Justice, unhappily, cannot repair her errors. 
 Her hand once placed upon a man, even if unjustly, 
 leaves an imprint of dishonor that can never be effaced. 
 She may perceive her error, and proclaim it aloud ; but 
 in vain. Public opinion, absurd, idiotic opinion, par- 
 dons not the man guilty of the crime of being sus- 
 pected." 
 
 It was with a sinking heart the old fellow heard these 
 remarks. He would not be the man to be withheld by 
 such mean considerations. 
 
 " Our suspicions are well grounded," continued the 
 judge. " But, should they lead us into error, our pre- 
 cipitation would be a terrible misfortune for this young 
 man, to say nothing of the effect it would have in 
 abridging the authority and dignity of Justice, of weak- 
 ening the respect which constitutes her power. Such a 
 mistake would call for discussion, provoke examination, 
 and awaken distrust, at an epoch in our history when
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 161 
 
 all minds are but too much disposed to defy the consti- 
 tuted authorities." 
 
 He leaned upon the table, and appeared to reflect pro- 
 foundly. 
 
 " No chance," thought Pere Tabaret. " I have to do 
 with a trembler. When he should act, he makes 
 speeches ; instead of signing mandates, he propounds 
 theories. He is stunned by my discovery, and is not 
 equal to the situation. Instead of being delighted by 
 my appearance with the news of our success, he would 
 have given a louis, JI dare say, to have been left to 
 slumber undisturbed in thick ignorance. Ah ! he would 
 very willingly have the little fishes in his net; but the 
 big ones frighten him : the big fish are dangerous ; and 
 he lets them swim away." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Daburon in a loud tone, " it will 
 suffice to issue a mandate of inquiry, and another of 
 requisition for the appearance of the accused." 
 
 " Then all is lost ! " cried Pere Tabaret. 
 
 " And why, if you please? " 
 
 " Monsieur, we are opposed by a criminal of marked 
 ability. The crime has been executed with the most 
 subtle premeditation. A most providential accident 
 alone, almost a miracle, has placed us upon the track 
 of discovery. If we give him time to breathe, he will 
 escape." 
 
 The only answer was an inclination of the head; 
 which Daburon might have intended for a sign of as- 
 sent. 
 
 " It is evident," continued the old fellow, " that our 
 adversary has foreseen every thing, absolutely every 
 thing, except the possibility of suspicion attaching to 
 one in his high position. Oh! his precautions are all
 
 162 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 taken. If you are satisfied with demanding his appear- 
 ance, he is saved. He will enter your cabinet of inquiry 
 as tranquilly as your clerk, as unconcerned as if he came 
 to arrange the preliminaries of a duel. He will present 
 you with a magnificent alibi, an alibi that cannot be 
 gainsaid. He will show you that he passed the even- 
 ing and the night of Tuesday with personages of the 
 highest rank. He has dined with the Count de Machin, 
 gamed with the Marquis of so and so, and supped with 
 the Duke of what's his name. The Baroness of this and 
 the Viscountess of that have not lost sight of him for a 
 minute. In short, his little machine will be so cleverly 
 constructed, so nicely arranged, all its little wheels will 
 play so well, that there will be nothing left for you but 
 to open the door and usher him out with the most hum- 
 ble apologies. The only means of securing conviction 
 is to surprise the miscreant by a rapidity against which 
 it is impossible he can be on guard. Fall upon him like 
 a thunderclap, arrest him as he awakes, drag him hither 
 while yet pale with astonishment, and interrogate at 
 once." 
 
 Pere Tabaret stopped short, frightened at the idea 
 that he had been wanting in respect; but Daburon 
 showed no sign of being offended. 
 
 " Proceed," said he, in a tone of encouragement, 
 " proceed." 
 
 " Then," continued the old fellow, " I am a judge 
 of inquiry. I cause my man to be arrested ; and, twenty 
 minutes later, he is standing before me. I do not amuse 
 myself by putting questions to him, more or less subtle. 
 No, I go right to the mark. I overwhelm him at once 
 by the weight of my certainty, prove to him so clearly 
 that I know every thing, that he must surrender, seeing 
 no chance of escape. I should say to him, ' My good
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 163 
 
 man, you bring me an alibi; it is very well : but we are 
 acquainted with this system of defence. It will not do 
 with me. Of course I understand you have been else- 
 where at the hour of the crime; an hundred persons 
 have never lost sight of you : It is all admitted. In the 
 mean time, here is what you have done. At twenty min- 
 utes after eight, you slipped away adroitly ; at thirty-five 
 minutes past eight, you took the train at Rue St. La- 
 zare; at nine o'clock, you descended at the station at 
 Rueil, and took the road to Jonchere ; at a quarter past 
 nine, you knocked at the window-shutter of the Widow 
 Lerouge's cottage. You were admitted. You asked 
 for something to eat, and, above all, something to drink. 
 At twenty minutes past nine, you planted the end of a 
 foil, well-sharpened, between her shoulders. You killed 
 her ! You then overturned every thing in the house, and 
 burned certain papers of importance ; after which, you 
 tied in a napkin all the valuables you could find, and car- 
 ried them off, to lead the police to believe the murder 
 was the work of a robber. You locked the door, and 
 threw a\vay the key. 
 
 " ' Arrived at the Seine you threw the bundle into the 
 water, and then regained the railway station on foot; 
 and, at eleven o'clock, you re-appeared in the company, 
 where your absence was unnoticed. Your game was well 
 played ; but you omitted to provide against two adversa- 
 ries, an agent of police, not easily deceived, named 
 Tirauclair, and another still more capable, named 
 chance. 
 
 " ' Between the two, they have made you lose the 
 game. Moreover, you were wrong to w r ear fine boots, and 
 to keep on your pearl gray gloves, besides embarrassing 
 yourself with a silk hat and an umbrella. Now confess 
 your guilt, and save the trouble of a trial; and I will
 
 164 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 give you permission to smoke in your dungeon some of 
 those trabucos you are so fond of, and which you smoke 
 always with an amber mouthpiece.' " 
 
 During this speech, delivered with extraordinary vol- 
 ubility, Pere Tabaret had gained a couple of inches in 
 height, so great was his enthusiasm. He looked at the 
 magistrate, as if requesting a smile of approval. 
 
 " Yes," continued he, after taking breath, " I would 
 say this, and nothing else; and, unless this man is a 
 hundred times stronger than I suppose him to be, unless 
 he is made of bronze, of marble, or of steel, he would 
 fall at my feet and avow his guilt." 
 
 " And then if he were of bronze," said Daburon, " and 
 did not fall at your feet, what would you do next ? " 
 
 The question evidently embarrassed the old fellow. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " stammered he ; "I don't know ; I should 
 see. I would search. But he would confess." 
 
 After a prolonged silence, Daburon took a pen, and 
 wrote in haste, 
 
 " I surrender," said he. " M. Albert de Commarin 
 shall be arrested. It is decided ; but the formalities and 
 inquiries will occupy some time, which I \vish to use by 
 first interrogating the Count de Commarin, the young 
 man's father, and this young advocate, your friend M. 
 Noel Gerdy, also, in examination of the letters of which 
 you speak ; they are indispensable to me." 
 
 At the name of Gerdy, Pere Tabaret's face assumed 
 a most comical expression of uneasiness. 
 
 " Confound it," cried he, " the very thing I have 
 most dreaded." 
 
 " What? " demanded Daburon. 
 
 " The necessity for the examination of those letters. 
 Noel will discover my interference. He will despise me : 
 he will fly from me, when he knows that Tabaret and
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 165 
 
 Tirauclair sleep in the same nightcap. Before eight 
 days, my oldest friends will refuse to take my hand, as 
 if it were not an honor to serve justice. I shall be 
 obliged to change my residence, and assume a false 
 name." 
 
 He almost wept, so great was his annoyance. Dabu- 
 rcn was touched. 
 
 " Reassure yourself, my dear Tabaret," said he. " I 
 will manage that your adopted son, your Benjamin, 
 shall know nothing. I shall lead him to believe I have 
 reached him by means of the widow's papers." 
 
 The old fellow seized the judge's hand in a transport 
 of gratitude, and carried it to his lips. 
 
 " Oh ! thanks, monsieur, a thousand thanks ! I beg 
 to be permitted to witness the arrest ; and I shall be glad 
 to assist at the examination." 
 
 " I expected you would ask it, M. Tabaret," answered 
 the judge. 
 
 The lamps paled in the gray dawn of the morning; 
 the rumbling of vehicles was heard in the distance: 
 Paris was awaking. 
 
 " I have no time to lose," continued Daburon, " if I 
 would have all my measures well taken. I must at once 
 see the procurer imperial, awake him, if necessary. I 
 will go from his house directly to the palace of justice. 
 I shall be in my cabinet before eight o'clock ; and I de- 
 sire, M. Tabaret, you will there await my orders." 
 
 The magistrate's servant appeared. 
 
 " A note, monsieur," said he, " brought by a gen- 
 darme from Bougival. He waits an answer." 
 
 " Very well," replied Daburon. " Ask the man to. 
 have some refreshment; at least offer him a glass of 
 wine." 
 
 He opened the envelope.
 
 i66 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Ah ! " he cried, " a letter from Gevrol ; " and he 
 read, 
 
 " ' To THE JUDGE OF INQUIRY, 
 
 ' I have the honor to inform you, that I am on the 
 track of the man of the ear-rings. I heard of him at a 
 wine shop, which he entered on Sunday morning, be- 
 fore going to the Widow Lerouge's cottage. He drank, 
 and paid for two litres of wine ; then, suddenly striking 
 his forehead, he cried, " Old stupid ! to forget that to- 
 morrow is the boat's fete day ! " and demanded another 
 litre of wine. I consulted the almanac; it was the fete 
 of St. Martin, which I therefore take to be the name of 
 the boat. I have also learned that she was laden with 
 grain. I write to the prefecture at the same time as I 
 write to you, that inquiries may be made at Paris and 
 Rouen. He must be found at one of these places. 
 1 ' I am in waiting, monsieur, etc.' " 
 
 " Poor Gevrol ! " cried Pere Tabaret, bursting with 
 laughter. " He sharpens his sabre, and the battle is over. 
 Are you not going to put a stop to his researches, mon- 
 sieur?" 
 
 " No ; certainly not," answered Daburon ; " to neglect 
 the slightest clew might lead to error. Who can tell 
 what light we may receive from this old mariner with 
 the rings in his ears ? " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON the same day that the crime of Jonchere was dis- 
 covered, and precisely at the hour when Pere Tabaret 
 made his memorable examination in the victim's cham- 
 ber, the Viscount Albert de Commarin entered a car- 
 riage, and proceeded to the Gate du Nord, to meet his 
 father.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 167 
 
 The young man was very pale, his features pinched, 
 his eyes dull, his lips blanched, his whole appearance de- 
 noting either overwhelming fatigue or unusual sor- 
 row. 
 
 AH the servants had observed, that, during the past 
 five days, their young master was not in his ordinary 
 condition : he spoke with effort, ate almost nothing, and 
 forbade the admission of visitors. 
 
 His valet remarked that this singular alteration dated 
 from the visit, on Sunday morning, of a certain M. 
 Noel Gerdy, advocate, who had been closeted with him 
 for three hours in the library. 
 
 The viscount, gay as a lark until the arrival of this 
 person, had, from the moment of his departure, the ap- 
 pearance of a man at the point of death, or filled with 
 remorse for the commission of a terrible crime. 
 
 At the moment of setting forth to meet his father, the 
 viscount appeared to suffer so acutely that Lubin, his 
 valet, entreated him not to expose himself to the cold ; it 
 would be more prudent to retire to his room, and call in 
 the doctor. 
 
 But the Count de Commarin, his son knew, was ex- 
 acting on the score of filial duty, and would overlook the 
 worst of youthful indiscretions sooner than what he 
 termed a want of reverence. He had announced his in- 
 tended arrival by telegraph, twenty-four hours in ad- 
 vance; therefore the house was expected to be in per- 
 fect readiness to receive him : and the absence of Albert 
 at the railway station would have been resented as a fla- 
 grant omission of duty. 
 
 The viscount had been but five minutes in the waiting 
 room, when the bell announced the arrival of the train. 
 Soon the doors leading to the platform were opened, 
 and the depot became filled with travellers.
 
 i68 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The throng beginning to thin a little, the count ap- 
 peared, followed by a servant, who carried a travelling 
 pelisse lined with expensive fur. 
 
 The Count de Commarin looked a good ten years less 
 than his age. His beard and hair, yet abundant, were 
 scarcely grey. He was tall and muscular, held himself 
 upright, and carried his head high, all this without any 
 of the ungracious British manner, so much affected by 
 our young men of the present day. His appearance was 
 noble, his movements easy. His hands were strong and 
 handsome, the hands of a man whose ancestors have 
 been for centuries familiar with swordhilts. His regu- 
 lar features presented a study to the physiognomist, all 
 expressing easy, careless good nature, even to the hand- 
 some, smiling mouth ; except his eyes, in whose clear 
 depths flashed the fiercest, most arrogant pride. This 
 contrast revealed the secret of his character. Imbued 
 quite as deeply with aristocratic prejudice as the Mar- 
 quise d'Arlanges, he had progressed with his century, 
 or at least appeared to have done so. As fully as the 
 marquise, he held in contempt all who were not noble ; 
 but his disdain expressed itself in different fashion. The 
 marquise proclaimed her contempt loudly and coarsely ; 
 the count dissimulated, beneath an excess of politeness 
 humiliating to its object, a feeling of disgust equally 
 excessive. The marquise willingly admitted her trades- 
 people to familiar conversation. The count, one day 
 when his architect let fall his umbrella, picked it up and 
 returned it to him. The marquise had lived with her 
 eyes bandaged, her ears closed ; the count had kept eyes 
 and ears open and had seen and heard a good deal. She 
 was stupid, and without the protection of common 
 sense. He was witty and sensible, and possessed en- 
 larged views of life and politics. She dreamed of the
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 169 
 
 return of the absurd traditions of a former age, and the 
 restoration of effete monarchies, imagining that the 
 years could be turned back like the hands of a clock. 
 He hoped for things within the power of events to bring 
 forth. For example, he was sincerely persuaded the no- 
 bles of France would yet recover slowly and silently, 
 but surely, all their lost power, with its prestige and in- 
 fluence. 
 
 But, in the end, they belonged to the same order. 
 They were both aristocrats. The count was a flat- 
 tered portrait of his class; the marquise its carica- 
 ture. 
 
 It should be added that M. de Commarin knew how to 
 divest himself of his crushing urbanity in the ^company 
 of his equals. There he recovered his true character, 
 haughty, self-sufficient, and intractable, enduring con- 
 tradiction pretty much as a wild horse the application 
 of the spur. 
 
 In his own house, he was a despot. 
 
 Perceiving his father, Albert advanced, and embraced 
 him with an air equally noble and ceremonious, and, in 
 less than a minute, had expressed in well-chosen phrase 
 all the news that had transpired during his absence, and 
 the compliments of the journey. 
 
 Then only M. de Commarin perceived the so visible 
 alteration in his son's face. 
 
 " You are not well, viscount ? " asked he. 
 
 " Oh, yes, monsieur ! " answered Albert, dryly. 
 
 The count gave an " Ah ! " accompanied by a certain 
 movement of the head a habitual trick with him, ex- 
 pressing perfect incredulity; then, turning to his ser- 
 vant, he gave him some orders briefly. 
 
 " Now," resumed he, " let us go quickly to the house. 
 I am in haste to feel at home ; and I am hungry, having
 
 had nothing to-day but some detestable bouillon, at I 
 know not what way station." 
 
 M. de Commarin arrived in Paris in very ill-humor : 
 his journey into Austria had not brought the results he 
 hoped for. 
 
 To crown his dissatisfaction, he had rested, on his 
 homeward way, at the house of an old friend, with 
 whom he had so violent a discussion that they parted 
 without shaking hands. 
 
 The count was hardly seated in his carriage, which 
 started at a gallop, before he entered upon the subject 
 of this disagreement. 
 
 " I have quarrelled with the Duke de Sairmeuse," 
 said he. 
 
 " That seems to me to happen whenever you meet," 
 answered Albert, without intending any raillery. 
 
 " True," said the count ; " but this is serious. I 
 passed four days at his country-seat, in a state of in- 
 conceivable exasperation. He has been guilty of an act 
 which lowers him in my estimation beyond recovery! 
 Sairmeuse has sold his estate of Gondresy, one of the 
 finest in the north of France. He cut down the timber, 
 and put up to auction the old chateau, a princely 
 dwelling, now to be converted into a sugar refinery ; all 
 this for the purpose, as he says, of raising money to meet 
 some legal obligations, debts or settlements, or some- 
 thing of that kind ! " 
 
 " And was that the cause of your rupture ? " inquired 
 Albert, without much surprise. 
 
 " Certainly it was ? " Do you not think it a sufficient 
 one?" 
 
 " But. monsieur, you know the duke has a large fam- 
 ily, and is far from rich." 
 
 " What matters that ? A noble of France who sells
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE i/i 
 
 his land commits an unworthy act. He is guilty of trea- 
 son against his order ! " 
 
 " O monsieur ! " said Albert, deprecatingly. 
 
 " I said treason ! " continued the count. " I maintain 
 the position. Remember well, viscount, the power has 
 been, and always will be, on the side of wealth, the 
 strongest right with those who hold the soil. The men 
 of '93 well understood this principle, and acted upon it. 
 By impoverishing the nobility, they destroyed their pres- 
 tige more effectually than by abolishing their titles. A 
 prince dismounted, and without retinue, that is, with- 
 out means to retain them, is a ridiculous figure ! The 
 minister of July, who said to the people, ' Make your- 
 selves rich,' was not a fool. He gave them the magic 
 formula for power. But they have not the sense to un- 
 derstand it. They want to go too fast. They launch 
 into speculations, and become rich, it is true; but in 
 what? Stocks, bonds, paper, rags, in short. It is 
 smoke they are locking in their coffers. They prefer to 
 invest in merchandise, which pays eight or ten per cent, 
 to investing in vines or corn which will return but three. 
 The peasant is not so foolish. From the moment he 
 owns a piece of ground the size of a handkerchief, he 
 wants to make it as large as a tablecloth. He is slow as 
 the oxen he ploughs with, but as patient, as tenacious, 
 and as obstinate. He goes directly to his object, press- 
 ing firmly against the yoke; and nothing can stop or 
 turn him aside. He knows that stocks may rise or fall, 
 fortunes be won or lost on 'change ; but the land always 
 remains, the real standard of wealth. To become land- 
 holders, the peasant starves himself, wears sabots in 
 winter ; and the imbeciles who laugh at him will be as- 
 tonished by and by when he makes his '93, and the peas- 
 ant becomes a baron in power if not in name."
 
 172 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " I do not understand the application," said the vis- 
 count. 
 
 " You do not understand ? Why, what the peasant is 
 doing is what the nobles ought to have done ! Ruined, 
 their duty was to reconstruct their fortunes. Commerce 
 is interdicted to us; be it so: agriculture remains. In- 
 stead of grumbling uselessly during the half-century, 
 instead of running themselves into debt, in the ridicu- 
 lous attempt to support an appearance of grandeur, they 
 ought to have retreated to their provinces, shut them- 
 selves up in their chateaux ; there worked, economized, 
 denied themselves, as the peasant is doing, purchased 
 the land piece by piece. Had they taken this course, 
 they would to-day possess France. Their wealth would 
 be enormous ; for the value of land rises year after year. 
 I have, without effort, doubled my fortune in thirty 
 years. Blauville, which cost my father a hundred crowns 
 in 1817, is worth to-day more than a million: so that, 
 when I hear the nobles complain, I shrug the shoulder. 
 Who but they are to blame? They impoverish them- 
 selves from year to year. They sell their land to the 
 peasants. Soon they will be reduced to beggary, and 
 their escutcheons. What consoles me is, that the peas- 
 ant, having become the proprietor of our domains, will 
 then be all-powerful, and will yoke to his chariot wheels 
 these traders in scrip and stocks, whom he hates as 
 much as I execrate them myself." 
 
 The carriage at this moment stopped in the court of 
 the Hotel Commarin, after having described that per- 
 fect circle, the glory of coachmen who preserve the old 
 traditions. 
 
 The count alighted from the carriage, leaning upon 
 his son's arm, and ascended the steps of the grand en- 
 trance.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 173 
 
 In the immense vestibule, nearly all the servants, 
 dressed in rich liveries, stood in a line. 
 
 The count gave them a glance, in passing, as an offi- 
 cer might his soldiers on parade, and proceeded to his 
 apartments upon the second floor, above the reception 
 rooms. 
 
 Never was there a better regulated household than 
 that of the Hotel de Commarin, a considerable estab- 
 lishment, too; for the count's fortune enabled him to 
 sustain a retinue greater than that of a German prince. 
 He possessed in a high degree the art, more rare than is 
 generally supposed, of commanding an army of ser- 
 vants. 
 
 According to Riviral, a man's manner of giving an 
 order to a lackey establishes his rank better than a hun- 
 dred genealogies on parchment. 
 
 The number of his domestics gave the count neither 
 inconvenience nor embarrassment. They were necessary 
 to him. Although he was exacting, never permitting the 
 expression, " I did not understand," he was rarely 
 heard to administer a reproof. 
 
 So perfect was the organization of this household, 
 that its functions were performed like those of a ma- 
 chine, without noise, variation, or effort. 
 
 Thus, when the count returned from his journey, the 
 sleeping hotel was awakened as if by the spell of an en- 
 chanter. Each servant was at his post ; and the occupa- 
 tions, interrupted during the past six weeks, resumed 
 without confusion. As the count was known to have 
 passed the day on the road, the dinner was served in 
 advance of the usual hour. All the establishment, even 
 to the lowest scullion, represented the spirit of the first 
 article of the rules of the house, " Servants are not to 
 execute orders, but anticipate them."
 
 174 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 M. de Commarin had hardly removed the traces of 
 his journey, and changed his dress, when his Maitre d' 
 Hotel announced, 
 
 " M. le Count is served." 
 
 He descended at once ; and father and son met upon 
 the threshold of the dining-room. 
 
 This was a large apartment, very high in the ceiling, 
 as were all the rooms of the first floor, and was at once 
 magnificent and simple in its furniture and appoint- 
 ments. 
 
 One only of its four sideboards would have encum- 
 bered a dining-room of the Rue Malescherhes. 
 
 A collector of curiosities would have found much to 
 occupy his attention on those four sideboards, loaded as 
 they were with antique gold and silver plate, rare en- 
 amels, marvellous china, and porcelain that might make 
 a king of Saxony turn green with jealousy. 
 
 The table service, resplendent in silver and cut glass, 
 which occupied the middle of the room, was in keeping 
 with this luxury. 
 
 The count was not only a great eater, but was vain of 
 his enormous appetite, the possession of which would 
 have been to a poor devil an awful calamity. He was 
 fond of recalling the names of great men, noted for 
 their capacity of stomach. Charles the fifth devoured 
 mountains of viands. Louis XIV. swallowed at each 
 repast as much as six ordinary men. He argued, pleas- 
 antly, that we may judge of men's qualities by their di- 
 gestive capacities. He compared them to lamps, whose 
 power of giving light is in proportion to the oil they 
 consume. 
 
 The first half hour of dinner passed in silence. M. de 
 Commarin ate conscientiously, either not perceiving or 
 not caring to notice that his son ate nothing, but merely
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 175 
 
 sat at the table as if to countenance him. But with the 
 dessert the old nobleman's ill-humor and volubility re- 
 turned, apparently increased by the Burgundy, which 
 he drank unsparingly. 
 
 He was partial, moreover, to after dinner argument, 
 professing a theory that spirited discussion is a perfect 
 digestive. A letter which had been delivered to him on 
 his arrival, and which he had found time to glance over, 
 gave him at once a subject and a point of departure. 
 
 " I arrived here at one o'clock," said he ; " and I have 
 already received a homily from Broisfresnay." 
 
 " He writes often," observed Albert. 
 
 " Too much ; he consumes him c . elf in ink. More ri- 
 diculous projects, vain hopes, veritable childishness ! 
 and he mentions at least a dozen names of men high in 
 power as associates. By my word of honor, men seem 
 to have lost their senses ! They talk of lifting the world, 
 only they want the lever and the point on which to rest 
 it. It makes me die with laughter ! " 
 
 For ten minutes the count continued to discharge a 
 volley of epigrams and sarcasms against his best friends 
 without seeming to see that a great many of the foibles 
 he ridiculed were his own as much as theirs. 
 
 " If," continued he more seriously, " if they showed 
 any confidence in themselves, they might be entitled to 
 respect ; but they have not even the virtue of courage. 
 They count upon others to do for them what they ought 
 to do for themselves. They are in continual quest of 
 some one better mounted, who will consent to take them 
 on his crupper. In short, their proceedings are a series 
 of confessions of helplessness, of premature declarations 
 of failure." 
 
 Coffee was served ; and the count made a sign. 
 
 The servants left the room.
 
 176 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " No," said the count, " I see but one hope for the 
 French aristocracy, but one plank of salvation, one good 
 little law, establishing the right of primogeniture." 
 
 " You will never obtain it, monsieur." 
 
 " You would oppose such a measure, viscount." 
 
 Albert knew by experience what dangerous ground 
 his father was approaching, and was silent. 
 
 " Let us put it, then, that I dream of the impossible ! " 
 resumed the count. " Let the nobles do their duty. 
 When the younger sons and daughters of great houses 
 devote themselves to establish their families, by giving 
 up the entire patrimony to its first-born for five genera- 
 tions, contenting themselves each one with a hundred 
 louis a year, then only can great fortunes be recon- 
 structed, and families, instead of being divided by a 
 variety of interests, become united by a common 
 aspiration, have a political influence, a position in 
 the State." 
 
 " Unfortunately," objected the viscount, " the time is 
 not favorable to such devotedness." 
 
 " I know it, monsieur," replied the count quickly ; 
 " and in my own house I have proved it. I have con- 
 jured you to renounce the espousal of the granddaugh- 
 ter of this old fool, the Marquise d' Arlanges. To what 
 purpose ? " 
 
 " My father " Albert was beginning. 
 
 " It is well," interrupted the count. " You will take 
 your own course; but remember my prediction: you 
 will give the mortal blow to our house; you will be 
 one of the largest proprietors in France, but have half 
 a dozen children ; and they will be hardly rich. Live to 
 be an old man, and you will see your grandchildren in 
 poverty ! " 
 
 " You put all at the worst, father."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 177 
 
 " Without doubt : it is the only means of pointing out 
 the danger, and averting the evil. You talk of your 
 life's happiness. A truly noble man thinks of his name 
 and family before all, even his life's happiness. Made- 
 moiselle d' Arlanges is very pretty, and very attractive ; 
 but she has not a sou. It is your duty to marry an heir- 
 ess." 
 
 "Whom I shall not love?" 
 
 " The same old song. Pshaw ! the lady I wish you to 
 marry will bring you four millions in her apron, a 
 larger dowry than the kings of to-day can give their 
 daughters." 
 
 The discussion upon this subject would have been in- 
 terminable, had Albert taken an active share in it; but 
 his mind was leagues away : and he answered from time 
 to time only, and then in monosyllables. This absence 
 of opposition was more irritating to the count than the 
 most obstinate contradiction. He directed his utmost 
 efforts to pique his son, that was his next tactique. 
 
 Meanwhile, he was vainly prodigal of words, and un- 
 sparing in provoking and unpleasant allusions. At 
 length, from being irritated, he became furious; and, 
 on receiving a laconic response, he burst forth, 
 
 " Parbleu ! the son of my Maitre d' Hotel argues no 
 worse than you. What blood have you in your veins? 
 You are more like a son of the people than a scion of 
 the de Commarins ! " 
 
 There are certain conditions of mind in which the 
 least conversation jars upon the nerves. During the last 
 half hour, Albert had suffered an intolerable punish- 
 ment. The patience with which he had armed himself 
 at last escaped him. 
 
 " Well, monsieur," he answered, " if I resemble a son 
 of the people, there are perhaps good reasons for it."
 
 178 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The glance accompanying the speech was so express- 
 ive that the count experienced a sudden shock. All the 
 animation departed from his manner; and, in a hesitat- 
 ing voice, he demanded, 
 
 " What do you say, viscount ? " 
 
 Albert no sooner uttered the sentence than he re- 
 gretted his precipitation ; but he had gone too far to re- 
 treat. 
 
 " Monsieur," he said with a peculiar calmness, " I 
 have to confer with you on important matters. My 
 honor, yours, the honor of our house, are involved. I 
 intended postponing the conversation till to-morrow, 
 not desiring to trouble you on the evening of your re- 
 turn; but you have introduced the topic, and we must 
 proceed." 
 
 The count listened with ill-concealed anxiety. He di- 
 vined the misfortune that had occurred, and was terri- 
 fied at himself for having divined it. 
 
 " Believe me, monsieur," continued Albert, " what- 
 ever may have been your acts, my voice will never 
 be raised to reproach you. Your constant goodness " 
 
 M. de Commarin held up his hand. 
 
 " A truce to preambles ; the facts without phrases," 
 said he, sternly. 
 
 Albert was slow to answer: he hesitated where to 
 commence. 
 
 " Monsieur," said he at length, " during your ab- 
 sence, I have read all your correspondence with Madame 
 Gerdy, all!" emphasizing ths last word, already so 
 significant. 
 
 The count started up, as if stung by a serpent, with 
 such violence that his chair rolled back several paces. 
 
 " Not a word ! " cried he in a terrible voice. '' i 
 forbid you to speak,"
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 179 
 
 He was ashamed of his violence, evidently ; for he re- 
 placed his chair with an affectation of calmness. 
 
 " Who will hereafter refuse to believe in presenti- 
 ments ? " he resumed in a tone which he strove to render 
 light and rallying. " An hour ago, on seeing your pale 
 face at the railway station, I felt that you had learned 
 something, much or little, of this history. I was sure 
 of it." 
 
 With one accord, father and son avoided letting their 
 eyes meet, lest they might encounter glances too 
 eloquent to bear at so painful a moment. 
 
 " You said, monsieur," said the count, " honor de- 
 mands this conference; it is important, then, to avoid 
 delay. Will you follow me to my room ? " 
 
 He rang the bell. A valet appeared. 
 
 " Neither M. the viscount nor I am at home to any 
 one, no matter whom. We are not to be interrupted." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THIS revelation irritated, much more than surprised 
 the Count de Commarin. 
 
 Indeed, for twenty years, he had been expecting to see 
 the truth brought to light. He knew that there could be 
 no secret so carefully guarded that it might not by some 
 chance escape ; and his had been known to four people, 
 three of whom were still living. 
 
 He had not forgotten that he had been imprudent 
 enough to trust this secret to paper, knowing all the 
 while that it ought never to have been written. 
 
 How could he, a prudent diplomat, a statesman, used 
 to precaution, have put it in writing? How, after writ- 
 ing, could he have allowed this fatal correspondence to
 
 180 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 remain in existence? Why had he not destroyed, at 
 whatever cost, these overwhelming proofs, which sooner 
 or later, would be brought against him ? Such impru- 
 dence could only have been caused by an absurd passion, 
 blind, insensible, improvident even to madness. 
 
 It is characteristic of love to have such belief in its 
 continuance that it is scarcely satisfied with the pros- 
 pect of eternity. Absorbed completely in the present, it 
 takes no thought for the future. 
 
 Besides, what man ever dreams of putting himself on 
 his guard against the woman he loves ? The enamored 
 Samson is ever ready to submit his hair to the scissors 
 of his Delilah. 
 
 So long as he was Valerie's lover, the count never 
 thought of asking the return of his letters from his 
 beloved accomplice. If the idea had occurred to him, 
 he would have repelled it as an insult to the character of 
 his angel. 
 
 What reason could he have had to suspect her discre- 
 tion? None. He would have been much more likely 
 to have supposed her interested in removing every trace, 
 even the slightest, of the occurrences which had taken 
 place. Was it not her son who had received the benefits 
 of the deed, who had usurped another's name and 
 fortune ? 
 
 When, eight years after, thinking himself deceived, 
 the count had broken off the connection which had given 
 him so much happiness, he thought of obtaining posses- 
 sion of this unhappy correspondence. But he knew no 
 way. A thousand reasons precluded his moving in the 
 matter. 
 
 The principal one of these reasons was, that he had 
 resolved never again to meet this woman, once so dearly 
 loved. He did not feel sufficiently sure either of his
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 181 
 
 anger or of his firmness. Could he, without yielding, re- 
 sist the tearful pleading of those eyes, which had so long 
 held complete sway over his soul ? 
 
 To look again upon this mistress of his youth would, 
 he feared, result in his forgiving her ; and he had been 
 too cruelly wounded in his pride and in his affection to 
 admit the idea of a reconciliation. 
 
 On the other hand, to obtain the letters through a 
 third party was entirely out of the question. He ab- 
 stained, then, from all action, postponing it indefinitely. 
 
 " I will go to her," said he ; " but not until I have SQ 
 torn her from my heart that she will have become indif- 
 ferent to me. I will not gratify her with the sight of 
 my grief." 
 
 So months and years passed on ; and finally he began 
 to say and believe that it was too late. 
 
 The truth was, that there were memories which it 
 would have been imprudent to awake. By an unjust 
 mistrust, he might provoke her to using the letters. 
 
 Can you better force a well-armed person to use his 
 arms than by demanding their surrender? After so 
 long a silence, to ask for the letters would be nearly the 
 same as declaring war. Besides, were they still in 
 existence? who could tell? what more likely than that 
 Madame Gerdy had destroyed them, understanding that 
 their existence was dangerous and that their destruction 
 alone could render her son's usurpation safe ? 
 
 M. de Commarin was not blind ; but, finding himself 
 in an inextricable difficulty, he thought the wisest course 
 was to trust to chance ; and so he left open for his old 
 age this door to a guest who was always entering, Un- 
 happiness. 
 
 And for now more than twenty years, he had never 
 passed a day without cursing his inexcusable folly.
 
 i&2 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Never had he been able to forget that above his head 
 hung a danger more terrible than the sword of Damo- 
 cles, suspended by a thread, which the slightest accident 
 might break. 
 
 To-day this thread had broken. 
 
 Often, when considering the possibility of such a 
 catastrophe, he had asked himself how he should 
 avert it ? 
 
 He had formed and rejected many plans; he had 
 deluded himself, like all men of imagination, who, with a 
 wealth of chimerical projects, find themselves at last 
 surprised while unprepared. 
 
 Albert stood respectfully, while his father sat in his 
 great armorial chair, just beneath the large chart, where 
 the genealogical tree of the illustrious family of Rheteau 
 de Commarin spread its luxuriant branches. 
 
 The old gentleman permitted no one to see the cruel 
 apprehensions which oppressed him. He seemed neither 
 irritated nor dejected ; but his eyes expressed a haughti- 
 ness more than usually disdainful, a self-reliance full 
 of contempt, rendering him imperturbable. 
 
 " Now, viscount," he began in a firm voice, " explain 
 yourself. I need say nothing to you of the pain of a 
 father, obliged to blush before his son; you feel, and 
 pity. Let us spare each other, and try to be calm. Tell 
 me, how did you obtain your knowledge of this corre- 
 spondence ? " 
 
 Albert had had time to recover himself, and prepare 
 for the present struggle, as he had waited four days for 
 this interview with mortal impatience. 
 
 The difficulty he experienced in speaking the first 
 words had given place to a dignified and proud 
 demeanor. He expressed himself clearly and forcibly,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 183 
 
 without losing himself in those details which in grave 
 matters only retard progress. 
 
 " Monsieur," he replied, " on Monday morning a 
 young man appeared here, stating that he had business 
 with me of the utmost importance and secrecy. I 
 received him. He then revealed to me that I, alas ! am 
 only your natural son, substituted, through your affec- 
 tion, for the legitimate child borne to you by Madame 
 de Commarin." 
 
 " And you did not kick this man out of doors ? " 
 exclaimed the count. 
 
 " No, monsieur. I should have answered him very 
 sharply, of course ; but, presenting me with a package 
 of letters, he begged me to read them before replying." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried M. de Commarin, " you did not throw 
 them in the fire, there was a fire, I suppose? You 
 held them in your hands ; and they still exist. I would 
 have done very differently ! " 
 
 " Monsieur ! " said Albert, reproachfully. 
 
 And recalling the position Noel had occupied before 
 the mantel, and the manner in which he stood, he 
 added, 
 
 " Even if the thought had occurred to me, it was im- 
 practicable. Besides, at the first glance, I recognized 
 your handwriting. I then took the letters, and read 
 them." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " And then, monsieur, I returned the correspondence 
 to the young man, and asked for a delay of eight days ; 
 not to think over it myself, there was no need of that, 
 but because I judged an interview with you indispen- 
 sable. Now, therefore, I beseech you, tell me whether 
 this substitution ever took place."
 
 184 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Certainly it did," replied the count violently, 
 " certainly. You know that it did ; for you have read 
 what I wrote to Madame Gerdy, your mother." 
 
 Albert had foreseen, had expected this reply; but it 
 crushed him. 
 
 This was one of those misfortunes, so great, that you 
 have to keep repeating it to yourself before you can 
 actually realize it. This flinching lasted but an instant, 
 however. 
 
 " Pardon me, monsieur," he replied. " I believed it ; 
 but I had not a formal assurance of it. All the letters 
 that I read spoke distinctly of your purpose, detailing 
 your plan minutely; but not one pointed to, or in any 
 way confirmed, the execution of the project." 
 
 The count gazed at his son with a look of intense sur- 
 prise. He recollected distinctly all the letters; and he 
 could remember, that, in writing to Valerie, he had 
 over and over rejoiced at their success, thanking her for 
 having acted in accordance with his wishes. 
 
 " You did not finish, then, viscount," he said, " you 
 did not read all ? " 
 
 " Every line, monsieur, and with an attention that 
 you may well understand. The last letter shown me 
 simply announced to Madame Gerdy the arrival of 
 Claudine Lerouge, the nurse who was charged with ac- 
 complishing the exchange/ I know nothing beyond 
 that." 
 
 " These proofs amount to nothing," muttered the 
 count. " A man may form a plan, cherish it for a long 
 time, and at the last moment abandon it ; it often hap- 
 pens so." 
 
 He reproached himself for having answered so has- 
 tily. Albert had had only serious suspicions : he had 
 changed them to certainty. What a mistake !
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 185 
 
 " There can be no possible doubt; ' he said to himself ; 
 " Valerie has destroyed the most conclusive letters, 
 those which appeared to her the most dangerous, those 
 I wrote after the exchange. But why has she preserved 
 these others, compromising enough in themselves? and 
 why, after having preserved them, has she let them out 
 of her possession ? " 
 
 " Perhaps she is dead ! " said M. de Commarin aloud. 
 
 And at this thought of Valerie dead, without his hav- 
 ing again seen her, he started painfully. His heart, after 
 more than twenty years of voluntary separation, still 
 suffered, so deeply rooted was this first love of his 
 youth. He had cursed her; at this moment, he would 
 have pardoned her. She had deceived him, it is true; 
 but did he not owe to her the only years of happiness 
 he had ever known ? Had she not formed all the poetry 
 of his youth. Had he experienced, since leaving her, 
 one single hour of happiness? In his present frame of 
 mind, his heart retained only happy memories, like a 
 vase which, once filled with the precious perfumes, re- 
 tains the odor even after it is itself destroyed. 
 
 " Poor girl ! " he murmured. 
 
 He sighed deeply. Three or four times his eyelids 
 twinkled, as if a tear had nearly fallen. Albert watched 
 him with anxious curiosity. This was the first time 
 since the viscount had grown to man's estate that he 
 had surprised in his father's countenance other emo- 
 tion than ambition or pride, conquered or triumphant. 
 But M. de Commarin's was not the character to yield 
 long to sentiment. 
 
 " You have not told me, viscount," he said, " who 
 sent you this unhappy message ? " 
 
 " He came in person, monsieur, not wishing, he told 
 me, to bring a third party into the sad affair. The young
 
 186 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 man was no other than he whose place I have occupied, 
 your legitimate son, Noel Gerdy himself." 
 
 " Yes," said the count in a low tone, " Noel ; that is 
 his name : I remember." And then, with evident hesi- 
 tation, he added, " did he speak to you of his of your 
 mother?" 
 
 " Scarcely, monsieur. He told me that he had been 
 brought up in ignorance of the secret which he had ac- 
 cidentally discovered, and which he revealed to me." 
 
 M. de Commarin made no reply. There was nothing 
 more for him to learn. He was reflecting. The decisive 
 moment had come ; and he saw but one way to escape. 
 
 " Come Viscount," he said, in a tone so affectionate 
 that Albert was astonished, " do not stand ; sit down 
 here by me, and let us discuss this matter. Let us unite 
 our efforts to shun, if possible, this great misfortune. 
 Confide in me, as a son should in his father. Have you 
 thought of what is to be done ? have you formed any de- 
 termination ? " 
 
 " It seems to me, monsieur, that hesitation is impos- 
 sible." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 " My duty, father, to me is very plain. Before your 
 legitimate son, I ought to give way without a murmur, 
 if not without regret. Let him come. I am ready to 
 yield to him every thing that I have so long, without a 
 suspicion of the truth, kept from him, a father's love, 
 his fortune and his name." 
 
 The old gentleman, at this most praiseworthy reply, 
 could scarcely preserve the calmness he had recom- 
 mended to his son in the earlier part of the interview. 
 His face grew purple; and he struck the table with 
 his fist more furiously than he had ever done in his life. 
 He, usually so guarded, so decorous on all occasions, ut-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 187 
 
 tered a volley of oaths that would not have done dis- 
 credit to an old cavalry officer. 
 
 " And I tell you, sir, that this, your dream of life, 
 shall never take place. No ; that it sha'n't. I promise 
 you, whatever happens, understand, that things must 
 remain as they are; because it is my wish. You are 
 Viscount de Commarin; and Viscount de Commarin 
 you shall remain, in spite of yourself. You shall retain 
 the title to your death, or at least to mine ; for never, 
 while I live, shall your absurd idea be carried out." 
 
 '' But, monsieur," began Albert, timidly. 
 
 " You are very fond of interrupting me while I am 
 speaking, monsieur," exclaimed the count. " Do I not 
 know all your objections beforehand ? You are going to 
 tell me that it is a revolting injustice, a wicked robbery. 
 I confess it, and grieve over it more than you possibly, 
 can. Do you think that I now for the first time repent 
 of my youthful folly? For twenty years, monsieur, I 
 have lamented my true son; for twenty years have I 
 cursed the wickedness of which he is the victim. And 
 yet I taught myself to keep silence, to hide the sorrow 
 and the remorse which has covered my pillow with 
 thorns. In a single instant, your senseless yielding, 
 would render my long-suffering of no avail. No, I will 
 never permit it ! " 
 
 The count read a reply on his son's lips; he stopped 
 him with a withering glance. 
 
 " Do you think," he continued, " that I have never 
 wept over the thought of my legitimate son passing his 
 life struggling for a competence ? Do you think that I 
 have never felt a burning desire to repair the wrong 
 done him? There have been times, monsieur, when I 
 would have given half of my fortune simply to embrace 
 that child of a wife too tardily appreciated. The fear
 
 188 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 of casting a shadow of suspicion upon your birth pre- 
 vented me. I have sacrificed myself to the great name I 
 bear. I received it from my ancestors without a stain. 
 May you hand it down to your children equally spot- 
 less ! Your first purpose is a worthy one, noble, chiv- 
 alrous, but you must forget it. Think of the scandal, 
 if our secret should be disclosed to the public gaze. Can 
 you not foresee the joy of that herd of par venues who 
 surround us? I shudder at the thought of the odium, 
 the ridicule which will attach to our name. Too many 
 families already have stains upon their escutcheons; I 
 hope ours will never be among the number." 
 
 M. de Commarin had stopped several minutes, with- 
 out Albert's daring to reply, so much had he been ac- 
 customed since infancy to respect the least wish of the 
 terrible old gentleman. 
 
 " There is no possible way out of it," continued the 
 count. " Shall I to-morrow discard you, and present 
 this Noel as my son, saying, ' Excuse me. but there has 
 been a slight mistake in identity : I didn't know my own 
 son ? ' And then the tribunals will get hold of it. Now, 
 if our name were Benoit, Durand, or Bernard, it would 
 make no difference ; but, when one is called a Commarin, 
 even but for a single day, he must retain it through 
 life. Justice is not the same in every case ; because all 
 have not the same duties. In our position, errors are ir- 
 reparable. Take courage, then, and show yourself 
 worthy of the name you bear. The storm is upon you ; 
 raise your head to meet it." 
 
 Albert's impassibility contributed not a little to in- 
 crease M. de Commarin's irritation. Firm in an un- 
 changeable resolution, the viscount listened like one ful- 
 filling a duty ; and his face reflected no emotion. The 
 count saw that he was not shaken.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 189 
 
 " What have you to reply ? " he asked. 
 
 " It seems to me, monsieur, that you do not under- 
 stand all the dangers to which I am exposed. It is dif- 
 ficult to master the revolts of conscience." 
 
 " Indeed ! " interrupted the count contemptuously ; 
 " your conscience revolts, does it ? It has chosen its time 
 badly. Your scruples come too late. So long as you 
 saw, in succeeding me, an illustrious title and a dozen 
 or so of millions, it smiled on you. To-day the name 
 appears to you laden with a heavy fault, a crime, if 
 you will; and your conscience revolts. Renounce this 
 folly. Children, monsieur, are accountable to their 
 fathers; and they should obey them. Willing or un- 
 willing, you must be my accomplice; willing or un- 
 willing, you must bear the burden, as I have borne it. 
 And, however much you suffer, be assured it can 
 never approach what I have endured for so many 
 years." 
 
 " Ah, monsieur ! " cried Albert, " is it then I, the dis- 
 possessor, who has made this trouble? is it not, on the 
 contrary, the dispossessed ? It is not I who have moved 
 in the matter ; it is Noel Gerdy." 
 
 " Noel ! " repeated the count. 
 
 " Your legitimate son, yes, monsieur. You act as if 
 the issue of this unhappy affair depended solely upon 
 my will. Do you, then, imagine that Noel Gerdy will 
 be so easily disposed of, so easily silenced? And, if 
 he should raise his voice, do you hope to accomplish 
 much through the considerations you have just men- 
 tioned ? " 
 
 " I have no doubt of it." 
 
 " Then you are wrong, monsieur, permit me to tell 
 you. Suppose for a moment that this young man has 
 ever had a soul sufficiently noble to relinquish his claim
 
 190 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 upon your rank and your fortune. Is there not now 
 the accumulated rancor of years to urge him to oppose 
 us ? He cannot help feeling a fierce resentment for the 
 horrible injustice of which he has been the victim. He 
 must passionately long for vengeance, or rather repara- 
 tion." 
 
 "He has no proofs." 
 
 " He has your letters, monsieur." 
 
 " They are not decisive, you have told me." 
 
 " That is true, monsieur ; and yet they convinced me, 
 who am interested in not being convinced. Besides if 
 he needs witnesses, he will find them." 
 
 "Who? You, probably." 
 
 " Yourself, monsieur. The day when he wishes it, 
 you will betray us. Suppose you were summoned be- 
 fore the tribunals, and that there, under oath, you should 
 be required to speak the truth, what answer would you 
 make?" 
 
 M. de Commarin's face darkened at this very natural 
 supposition. He hesitated, he whose honor was usu- 
 ally so great. 
 
 " I would save the name of my ancestors," he said 
 at last. 
 
 Albert shook his head doubtfully., 
 
 " At the price of a lie, my father," he said. " I never 
 will believe that. But let us suppose even that. He 
 will then call upon Madame Gerdy." 
 
 " Oh, I will answer for her ! " cried the count ; " her 
 interests are the same as ours. If necessary, I will see 
 her. Yes," he added with an effort, " I will go to her 
 house : I will speak to her ; and I will guarantee that she 
 does not betray us." 
 
 " And Claudine," continued the young man ; " will 
 she be silent, too?"
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 191 
 
 " For money, yes ; and I will give her whatever she 
 asks." 
 
 " And you would trust, father, to a paid silence, as 
 if one could ever be sure of a purchased conscience?- 
 What is sold to you may be sold to another. A certain 
 sum may close her mouth ; a much larger will open it." 
 
 " I will risk it." 
 
 " You forget, father, that Claudine Lerouge was Noel 
 Gerdy's nurse, that she takes an interest in his hap- 
 piness, that she loves him. How do you know that he 
 has not already secured her aid ? She lives at Bougival. 
 I have been there, I remember, with you. Without 
 doubt, he sees her often. Perhaps it was she who put 
 him on the track of this correspondence. He spoke to 
 me of her, as though he was sure of her testimony. He 
 almost proposed my going to her for information." 
 
 " Alas ! " cried the count, " why is not Claudine dead 
 instead of my faithful Germain ? " 
 
 " You .see, monsieur," concluded Albert, " Claudine 
 Lerouge alone stands in the way of your project." 
 
 " Ah, no ! " cried the count ; " I will find some ex- 
 pedient." 
 
 The obstinate old gentleman was not willing to give 
 in to this argument, whose very clearness blinded him. 
 The pride of his blood paralyzed in him his usual prac- 
 tical good sense, and obscured his remarkable clear 
 headedness. To acknowledge himself conquered by 
 necessity humiliated him, seemed to him disgraceful, 
 unworthy of him. He did not remember to have met 
 during his long career an invincible resistance or an 
 absolute impediment. 
 
 He was a little like those Hercules, who, having never 
 experienced a limit to their strength, believe that they 
 could overcome mountains if they desired.
 
 192 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 He had also the misfortune of all men of imagina- 
 tion, who fall in love with their projects, and who try 
 to make them succeed on all occasions, as if wishing 
 hard was all that was necessary to change their dreams 
 into realities. 
 
 Albert this time broke the silence, whose length 
 threatened to be prolonged. 
 
 " I see, monsieur," he said, " that you fear, above 
 all things, the publicity of this sad history ; the possible 
 scandal renders you desperate. But, unless we yield, 
 the uproar will be terrible. If a writ issued against 
 us to-morrow, in' four days our trial will be the talk of all 
 Europe. The newspapers will print the facts, accom- 
 panied by heaven knows what comments of their own. 
 Our name, however the trial results, will appear in all 
 the papers of the world. This might be borne, if we 
 were sure of succeeding; but we might fail, my father, 
 we might fail. Then think of the noise, think of the 
 dishonor branded upon us in public opinion." 
 
 " I think," said the count, " that you can have neither 
 respect nor affection for me, when you speak in that 
 way." 
 
 " It is my duty, monsieur, to point out to you the 
 evils I see threatening, and which there is yet time to 
 shun. Noel Gerdy is your legitimate son ; recognize him, 
 acknowledge his just pretensions, receive him. We can 
 make the change very quickly It is easy to account for 
 it, through a mistake of the nurse, Claudine Lerouge, 
 for instance. All the parties being in accord, there can 
 be no trouble made. What is to prevent the new Vis- 
 count de Commarin from quitting Paris, and being lost 
 to sight ? He might travel in Europe four or five years ; 
 by the end of that time all would be forgotten. No one 
 will remember me more."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 193 
 
 M. de Commarin was not listening: he was deep in 
 thought. 
 
 " But instead of contesting, viscount," he cried, " we 
 might compromise. We may be able to purchase these 
 letters. What does this young fellow want? A 
 position and a fortune? I will give him both. I will 
 make him as rich as he can ask. I will give him a 
 million; if need be, two, three, half of all I possess. 
 With money, you see, much money " 
 
 " Spare him, mons-ieur ; he is your son." 
 
 " Curse it ! and I wish him to the devil for it ! I will 
 show him that he had better compromise. I will prove 
 to him the bad policy of the earthen pot beating against 
 the iron kettle ; and, if he is not a fool, he will under- 
 stand it." 
 
 The count rubbed his hands while speaking. He was 
 delighted with this brilliant plan of negotiation. It 
 could not fail to result favorably. A crowd of argu- 
 ments occurred to his mind for proving his case. He 
 would buy back again his lost quiet. 
 
 But Albert did not seem to share his father's hopes. 
 
 " You will perhaps think it unkind in me, monsieur," 
 said he sadly, " to dispel this last illusion of yours ; but 
 it must be. Do not delude yourself with the idea of an 
 amicable arrangement: the awakening will only be the 
 more painful. I have seen this Gerdy, my father; and 
 he is not one, I assure you, to be intimidated. If ever 
 there was an energetic will in the world, his is one. He 
 is truly your son ; and his expression, like yours, shows 
 an iron resolution, to be broken but never bent. I can 
 still hear his voice trembling with resentment, while 
 he spoke to me. I can still see the dark fire of his eyes. 
 No: he will never compromise. He will have all or 
 nothing; and I cannot say that he is wrong. If we re-
 
 I 9 4 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 sist, he will attack us without the slightest considera- 
 tion. Strong in his rights, he will cling to us with stub- 
 born animosity. He will drag us from court to court ; 
 he will not stop short of utter defeat or complete tri- 
 umph." 
 
 Accustomed to absolute, almost unresisting obedience 
 from his son, the old gentleman was astounded at this 
 unexpected obstinacy. 
 
 " What is your purpose, then ? " he asked. 
 
 " It is this, monsieur. I should utterly despise my- 
 self, if I did not spare your old age this greatest of cal- 
 amities. Your name does not belong to me ; I will take 
 my own. I am your natural son. I will yield to your 
 legitimate child. Permit me to withdraw with at least 
 the honor of having freely done my duty. Do not force 
 me to await arrest by the tribunal, which would drive 
 me out in disgrace." 
 
 " What ! " cried the count stunned, " you will aban- 
 don me? You refuse to sustain me, you turn against 
 me, recognize the rights of this man, in spite of my 
 wishes? " 
 
 Albert bowed. He was much moved, but still remained 
 firm. 
 
 " My resolution is irrevocably taken," he replied. " I 
 can never consent to despoil your son." 
 
 " Cruel, ungrateful boy ! " cried M. de Commarin. 
 
 His wrath was such, that, when he found he could do 
 nothing by abuse, he passed at once to jeering. 
 
 " But no," he continued, " you are great, you are 
 noble, you are generous ; you are acting after the most 
 approved pattern of chivalry, viscount, I should say, 
 my very dear Monsieur Gerdy, after the fashion in 
 Plutarch's time! So you renounce my name, my for- 
 tune, and you leave me. You will shake the dust from
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 195 
 
 your shoes upon my threshold; and you will go out 
 .into the world. I see only one difficulty in your way. 
 How do you expect to live, my stoic philosopher? 
 Have you an estate at your fingers' ends, like Jean 
 Jacques' Emile ? Or, my worthy Monsieur Gerdy, have 
 you learned economy from the four thousand francs 
 a month I allow you for waxing your moustache ? Per- 
 haps you will gamble at the Bourse ! Then you will up- 
 hold my name with a vengeance, my name, that seems 
 to you so very burdensome to wear. Is dirt, then, so 
 great an attraction for you that you must jump from the 
 carriage so eagerly? Say, rather, that the company of 
 my friends embarrasses you, and that you are anxious 
 to go where you will be among your own equals." . 
 
 " I am very wretched, monsieur," replied Albert to 
 this avalanche of insults, " and you would crush me ! " 
 
 " You wretched ! Well, whose fault is it ? But let 
 us get back to my question ; how and on what will you 
 live?" 
 
 " I am not so romantic as you are pleased to suggest, 
 monsieur. I must confess that, for the future, I have 
 counted upon your goodness. You are so rich, that 
 five hundred thousand francs would not materially af- 
 fect your fortune; and, on the income of that sum, I 
 could live quietly, if not happily." 
 
 " And if I should refuse you thi money ? " 
 
 " I know you well enough, monsieur, to feel sure that 
 you will not refuse it. You are too just to wish that I 
 should expiate alone the wrongs that were not of my 
 making. Left to myself, I should have, at my present 
 age, achieved a position. It is too late for me to make 
 one now ; but I can at least try." 
 
 " Superb ! " broke in the count ; " this is superb ! I 
 never heard of such a hero of romance. What a char-
 
 196 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 acter. It has all the purity of Rome, all the firmness 
 of Sparta. It is as grand as any thing in antiquity. 
 But tell me, what do you expect from all this astonish- 
 ing disinterestedness ? " 
 
 " Nothing, monsieur." 
 
 The count shrugged his shoulders, looking sarcas- 
 tically at his son. 
 
 " The compensation is very slight. And you expect 
 to make me believe it? No, monsieur, mankind is not 
 in the habit of doing such fine actions for its own satis- 
 faction. You have some reason for acting so grandly, 
 which I fail to catch." 
 
 " None but what I have already told you. 
 
 " Then you intend to renounce every thing ; you will 
 even abandon your proposed union with Mademoiselle 
 Claire d'Arlanges? You forget that for two years I 
 have in vain begged you to give this marriage up." 
 
 " No, monsieur. I have seen Claire. I have ex- 
 plained my unhappy position to her. Whatever happens, 
 she has sworn to be my wife." 
 
 " And do you think that Madame d'Arlanges will 
 give her granddaughter to plain Monsieur Gerdy ? " 
 
 " I hope so, monsieur. The marquise is sufficiently 
 infected with nobility to prefer the natural child of a 
 gentleman to the son of some honest tradesman ; but if 
 she refuses, ah ! well, we will await her death, though 
 without desiring it." 
 
 Albert's uniformly calm tone enraged the count. 
 
 " Can this be my son ? " he cried. " Never ! What 
 blood have you in your veins, monsieur ? Perhaps your 
 worthy mother might tell us, provided she ever knew 
 herself." 
 
 " Monsieur," broke in Albert, fiercely, " think well 
 before you speak. She is my mother,, and that is suf-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 197 
 
 ficient. I am her son, not her judge. No one in my 
 presence shall speak disrespectfully of her: I will not 
 permit it, monsieur ; and I will suffer it least of all from 
 you." 
 
 The count used truly heroic efforts to keep his anger 
 within bounds; but he was beside himself at Albert's 
 position. What, he rebelled, he dared to brave him to 
 his face, he threatened him ! The old man jumped from 
 his chair, and moved toward his son as if he would 
 strike him. 
 
 " Leave the room ! " he cried, in a voice choking with 
 rage, " leave the room instantly ! Retire to your 
 apartments, and take care not to leave them with- 
 out my orders. To-morrow I will give you my de- 
 cision." 
 
 Albert bowed respectfully, but without lowering his 
 eyes, and walked slowly to the door. He had already 
 opened it, when M. de Commarin experienced one of 
 those revulsions of feeling, so frequent in violent na- 
 tures. 
 
 " Albert," said he, " come back and listen to me." 
 
 The young man turned, much affected by this change 
 of tone. 
 
 " Do not go," continued the count, " until I have 
 asked your pardon. You are worthy of being the heir of 
 a great house, monsieur. I may be irritated by you ; but 
 I can never lose my esteem for you. You are a noble 
 man, Albert. Give me your hand." 
 
 This was a happy moment for both, and such a one 
 as they had scarcely ever experienced in their lives, re- 
 strained as they had been by cold etiquette. The count 
 felt proud of his son, and recognized in him himself at 
 that age. As for Albert, the real meaning of the scene 
 then occurring impressed him : it had until now escaped
 
 198 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 him. For a long time their hands remained clasped, 
 without either being able to utter a word. 
 
 At last, M. de Commarin resumed his seat beneath 
 the genealogical chart. 
 
 " I must ask you to leave me, Albert," he said frankly. 
 " I must be alone, to reflect upon, to try and accustom 
 myself to this terrible blow." 
 
 And, as the young man closed the door, he added, as 
 if giving vent to his inmost thoughts, 
 
 " If he deserts me, in whom I have placed all my 
 hope, what will become of me ? O my God ! And what 
 can the other ever be to me ? " 
 
 Albert's features, when he left the count's study, bore 
 traces of the violent emotions he had felt during the in- 
 terview. The servants whom he met noticed it the more, 
 as they had heard something of the quarrel. 
 
 " Well," said an old footman who had been in the 
 family thirty years, " the count has had another unhappy 
 scene with his son. The old fellow has been in a dread- 
 ful passion." 
 
 " I got wind of it at dinner," spoke up a valet de 
 chambre: " the count restrained himself enough not to 
 burst out before me ; but he rolled his eyes fiercely." 
 
 " What can be the matter? " 
 
 " Pshaw ! that's more than they know themselves. 
 Why, Denis, before whom they always speak freely, 
 says that they often wrangle for hours together, like 
 dogs, about things which he can never see through." 
 
 " Ah," cried out a young fellow, who was being 
 trained to service, " if I were in the viscount's place, 
 I'd settle the old gent pretty effectually ! " 
 
 " Joseph, my friend," said the footman pointedly, 
 " you are a fool. You might give your father his walk- 
 ing ticket very properly, because you never expect five
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 199 
 
 sous from him; and you have already learned how to 
 earn your living without doing any work at all. But 
 the viscount, pray tell me what he is good for, what he 
 knows how to do ? Put him in the centre of Paris, with 
 only his fine hands for capital, and you will see." 
 
 " Yes, but he has his mother's property in Nor- 
 mandy," replied Joseph. 
 
 " I can't for the life of me," said the valet de chambre, 
 " see what the count finds to complain of ; for his son 
 is a perfect model, and I shouldn't be sorry to have one 
 like him. There was a very different pair, when I was 
 in the Marquis de Courtivois's service. He was one 
 who made it a point never to be in good humor. His 
 eldest son, who is a friend of the viscount's, and who 
 conies here occasionally, is a pit without a bottom, as 
 far as money is concerned. He will fritter away a thou- 
 sand-franc note quicker than Joseph can smoke a pipe." 
 
 " But the marquis is not rich," said a little old man, 
 who himself had perhaps the enormous wages of fifteen 
 francs ; " he can't have more than sixty thousand francs' 
 income at the most." 
 
 " That's why he gets angry. Every day there is some 
 new story about his son. He had an apartment in the 
 house ; he went in and out when he pleased ; he passed 
 his nights in gaming and drinking; he cut up so with 
 the actresses that the police had to interfere. Besides 
 all this, I have many a time had to help. him up to his 
 room, and put him to bed. when the waiters from the 
 restaurants brought mm home in a carriage, so drunk 
 that he could scarcely say a word." 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed Joseph enthusiastically, " this fel- 
 low's service must be mighty profitable." 
 
 " That was according to circumstances. When he 
 won at play, he was lavish with his money; but he al-
 
 200 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ways lost : and, when he was drunk, he had a quick tem- 
 per, and didn't spare the blows. I must do him the jus- 
 tice to say, though, that his cigars were splendid. But 
 he was a ruffian ; while the viscount here is a true child 
 of wisdom. He is severe upon our faults, it is true; 
 but he is never harsh nor brutal to his servants. Then 
 he is uniformly generous; which in the long run pays 
 us best. I must say that he is better than the majority, 
 and that the count is very unreasonable." 
 
 Such was the judgment of the servants. That of so- 
 ciety was perhaps less favorable. 
 
 The Viscount de Commarin was not one of those 
 who possess the rather questionable and at times unen- 
 viable accomplishment of pleasing every one. He was 
 wise enough to distrust those astonishing personages 
 who are always praising everybody. In looking about 
 us, we often see men of success and reputation, who are 
 simply dolts, without any merit except their perfect in- 
 significance. That stupid propriety which offends no 
 one, that uniform politeness which shocks no one's van- 
 ity, have peculiarly the gift of pleasing and of succeed- 
 ing. 
 
 One cannot meet certain persons without saying, " I 
 know that face ; I have seen it somewhere, before ; " be- 
 cause it has no individuality, but simply resembles faces 
 seen in a common crowd. It is precisely so with the 
 minds of certain other people. When they speak, you 
 know exactly what they are going to say: you have 
 heard the same thing so many times already from them, 
 you know all their ideas by heart. These people are 
 welcomed everywhere: because they have nothing pe- 
 culiar about them ; and peculiarity, especially in the up- 
 per classes, is always irritating and offensive: they de- 
 test all innovations.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 201 
 
 Albert was peculiar; consequently much discussed, 
 and very differently estimated. He was charged with 
 sins of the most opposite character, with faults so con- 
 tradictory that they were their own defence. Some ac- 
 cused him, for instance, of entertaining ideas entirely too 
 liberal for one of his rank ; and, at the same time, others 
 complained of his excessive arrogance. He was charged 
 with treating with insulting levity the most serious 
 questions, and was then blamed for his affectation of 
 gravity. People knew him scarcely well enough to love 
 him, while they were jealous of him and feared him. 
 
 He wore a bored look in all fashionable reunions, 
 which was considered very bad taste. Forced by his 
 relations, by his father, to go into society a great deal, 
 he was bored, and committed the unpardonable sin of 
 letting it be seen. Perhaps he had been disgusted by 
 the constant court made to him, by the rather coarse 
 attentions which were never spared the noble heir of one 
 of the richest families in France. Having all the nec- 
 essary qualities for shining, he despised them. Dread- 
 ful sin ! he did not abuse his advantages ; and no one 
 ever heard of his getting into a scrape. 
 
 He had had once, it was said, a very decided liking 
 for Madame Prosny, perhaps the naughtiest, certainly 
 the most mischievous woman in Paris ; but that was all. 
 Mothers who had daughters to dispose of upheld him; 
 but, for the last two years, they had turned against him, 
 when his love for Mademoiselle d'Arlanges became well 
 known. 
 
 At the club they rallied him on his prudence. He 
 had had, like others, his run of follies ; but he had soon 
 got disgusted with what it is the fashion to call pleas- 
 ure. The noble profession of ban vivant appeared to 
 him very tame and tiresome. He did not enjoy passing
 
 202 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 his nights at cards ; nor did he appreciate the society of 
 those frail sisters, who in Paris give notoriety to their 
 lovers. He affirmed that a gentleman was not neces- 
 sarily an object of ridicule because he would not expose 
 himself in the theatre with these women. Finally, none 
 of his friends could ever inoculate him with a passion 
 for the turf. 
 
 As doing nothing wearied him, he attempted, like the 
 parvenu, to give some meaning to life by work. He 
 purposed, after a while, to take part in public affairs ; 
 and, as he had often been struck with the gross ignor- 
 ance of many men in power, he wished to avoid their 
 example. He busied himself with politics ; and this was 
 the cause of all his quarrels with his father. The one 
 word of " liberal " was enough to throw the count into 
 convulsions ; and he suspected his son of liberalism, ever 
 since reading an article by the viscount, published in 
 the " Revue des Deux Mondes." 
 
 His ideas, however, did not prevent his fully sustain- 
 ing his rank. He spent most nobly on the world the 
 revenue which placed his father and himself a little 
 above it. His establishment, distinct from the count's, 
 was arranged as that of a wealthy young gentleman's 
 ought to be. His liveries left nothing to be desired ; and 
 his horses and equipages were celebrated. Letters of 
 invitation were eagerly sought for to the grand hunting 
 parties, which he formed every year towards the end 
 of October at Commarin, an admirable piece of prop- 
 erty, covered with immense woods. 
 
 Albert's love for Claire a deep, well-considered love 
 had contributed not a little to keep him from the hab- 
 its and life of the pleasant and elegant idleness indulged 
 in by his friends. A noble attachment is always a great 
 safeguard. In contending against it, M. de Commarin
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 203 
 
 had only succeeded in increasing its intensity and in- 
 suring its continuance. This passion, so annoying to 
 the count, was the source of the most vivid, the most 
 powerful emotions in the viscount. Ennui was ban- 
 ished from his existence. 
 
 All his thoughts took the same direction ; all his ac- 
 tions had but one aim. Could he look to the right or 
 the left, when, at the end of his journey, he perceived 
 the reward so ardently desired? He resolved that he 
 would never have any wife but Claire; his father ab- 
 solutely refused his consent. The effort to change this 
 refusal had long been the business of his life. Finally, 
 after three years of perseverance, he had triumphed; 
 the count had given his consent. And now, just as he 
 was reaping the happiness of success, Noel had arrived, 
 implacable as fate, with his cursed letters. 
 
 On leaving M. de Commarin, and while slowly 
 mounting the stairway which led to his apartment, Al- 
 bert's thoughts reverted to Claire. What was she do- 
 ing at this moment ? Thinking of him, without a doubt. 
 She knew that the crisis would come this very evening, 
 or to-morrow at the latest. She must be praying. 
 
 Albert felt broken down. His suffering was intense. 
 He felt dizzy ; his head seemed ready to burst. He rang 
 and ordered some tea. 
 
 " Monsieur does wrong in not sending for the doc- 
 tor," said Lubin, his valet de chambre. " I ought to dis- 
 obey you, and send for him myself." 
 
 " It would be useless," replied Albert sadly ; " he 
 could do nothing for my illness." 
 
 As the valet was leaving the room, he added, 
 
 " Say nothing about my suffering to any one, Lubin : 
 it is nothing at all. If I am really ill, I will ring." 
 
 At this moment, to see any one, to hear a voice, to
 
 204 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 have to reply, seemed insupportable. He longed to be 
 left entirely to himself. 
 
 After the painful emotions arising from his explana- 
 tions with the count, he could not sleep. He opened 
 one of the library windows, and leaned against the 
 casement. It was a beautiful night: and there was a 
 lovely moon. Seen at this hour, by the mild, tremulous 
 evening light, the gardens seemed twice their usual size. 
 The motionless tops of the great trees stretched away 
 like an immense plain, hiding the neighboring houses. 
 The clumps in the flower garden, set off by the green 
 shrubbery, appeared like great black figures ; while in the 
 carefully sanded walks sparkled particles of shell, little 
 pieces of glass, and the polished pebbles. At the right, 
 in the still lighted servants' quarters, could be heard the 
 servants passing to and fro; and the step of a groom 
 sounded on the pavement in the court. The horses 
 stamped in the stable; and the rattling of their halter 
 chains against the bars of the manger could be distin- 
 guished. In the carriage-house they were unharnessing 
 the vehicle, always kept ready throughout the evening, 
 in case the count should wish to go out. 
 
 Albert had there under his eyes a complete picture of 
 his magnificence. He sighed deeply. 
 
 " Must I, then lose all this ? " he murmured. " I can 
 scarcely, even for myself, abandon so many splendors 
 without regret ; and thinking of Claire makes it harder. 
 Have I not dreamed of a life of exceptional happi- 
 ness for her, almost impossible to realize without 
 wealth?" 
 
 Midnight sounded from St. Clotilde, whose twin 
 arrows he could perceive by leaning slightly forward. 
 
 He shivered ; it was growing cold.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 205 
 
 He closed his window, and sat down near the fire, 
 which he stirred up. In the hope of obtaining a respite 
 from his thoughts he took up the evening paper, in 
 which was an account of the assassination at Jonchere ; 
 but he found it impossible to read. The lines danced 
 before his eyes. Then he thought of writing to Claire. 
 He sat down at his desk, and wrote, " My dearly loved 
 Claire." He could go no further; his distracted brain 
 could not furnish him with a single sentence. 
 
 At last, at break of day, weariness overpowered him, 
 sleep surprised him, on a sofa, where he had thrown 
 himself, a heavy sleep peopled with phantoms. 
 
 At half-past nine in the morning, he was awakened 
 with a start, by the noise of his door being opened with 
 a crash. 
 
 A servant entered, frightened, so breathless, having 
 come up the stairway four steps at a time, that he could 
 scarcely speak. 
 
 " Monsieur," said he, " viscount, quick, fly, hide your- 
 self, save yourself : they are here, they " 
 
 A commissary of police in uniform appeared at the 
 library door. He was followed by a number of men, 
 among whom could be seen, keeping as much out of 
 sight as possible, Pere Tabaret. 
 
 The commissary approached Albert. 
 
 " You are,'' he asked, " Guy Louis Marie Albert de 
 Rheteau de Commarin ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur." 
 
 The commissary raised his hand, while pronouncing 
 the usual formula. 
 
 " Monsieur de Commarin, in the name of the law I 
 arrest you." 
 
 " Me, monsieur? me? "
 
 206 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Albert, aroused suddenly from his painful dreams, 
 seemed hardly to comprehend what was taking place. 
 He seemed to ask himself, 
 
 " Am I really awake ? Is not this some hideous 
 nightmare ?" 
 
 He threw a stupid look, much to the astonishment 
 of the commissary of police, upon the men, and upon 
 Pere Tabaret, who acted very much as though he was 
 the one arrested. 
 
 " Here is the warrant," added the commissary, un- 
 folding the paper. 
 
 Mechanically Albert glanced over it. 
 
 " Claudine assassinated ! " he cried. 
 
 Then very low, but distinct enough to be heard by the 
 commissary, by one of the officers, and by Pere Tabaret, 
 he added, 
 
 "I am lost!" 
 
 While the commissary was making the formal in- 
 quiries, which immediately follow all arrests, the of- 
 ficers spread through the apartment, and proceeded to a 
 searching examination of them: they had received or- 
 ders to obey Pere Tabaret; and the old fellow guided 
 them in their researches, made them ransack drawers 
 and closets, and move the furniture. They seized quite 
 a number of articles belonging to the viscount, papers, 
 manuscripts, and a very voluminous correspondence; 
 but it was with especial delight that Pere Tabaret put 
 his hands on certain articles, which were carefully de- 
 scribed in order in the official report. 
 
 I. In the first room, a waiting-room, hung with all 
 sorts of weapons, behind a sofa, a broken foil. This 
 foil had a peculiar handle, and was unlike those com- 
 monly sold. It bore the count's coronet, with the in- 
 itials A. C. It had been broken at about the middle;
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 207 
 
 and the end could not be found. When asked, the vis- 
 count declared that he could give no account as to what 
 had become of the missing end. 
 
 2. In the dressing-room, pantaloons of black cloth 
 still wet, bearing stains of mud or dirt. All one side 
 was covered with greenish moss, as if the wearer had 
 climbed over a wall. In front, there were numerous 
 rents ; and near the knee was one ten centimetres long. 
 The aforesaid pantaloons had not been hung up in the 
 wardrobe, but appeared to have been hidden between 
 two large trunks of clothing. 
 
 3. In the pocket of the above-described pantaloons 
 were found a pair of pearl-gray gloves. The palm of 
 the right hand glove showed a large greenish stain, 
 produced by grass or moss. The end of the fingers had 
 been worn by rubbing. Upon the back of both gloves, 
 scratches were noticed, evidently made by finger-nails. 
 
 4. Two pairs of boots, one of which, well cleaned, 
 were still damp; an umbrella recently wetted, the end 
 of which was still covered with white mud. 
 
 5. In a large room, called " the library," a box of 
 cigars of the trabucos brand, and upon the mantel a 
 number of cigar-holders in amber and meerschaum. 
 
 The last article noted down, Pere Tabaret approached 
 the commissary of police. 
 
 " I have every thing I could desire," he whispered. 
 
 " And I have finished, too," replied the commissary. 
 " This chap here don't seem to know exactly how to act. 
 Do you see ? He gave in on the first attack. I suppose 
 you will call it lack of experience." 
 
 " Before the day is over," replied the amateur de- 
 tective in a whisper, " he won't be quite so crest-fallen. 
 But now, suddenly awakened, you know Always 
 arrest them early in the morning; take them in bed be- 
 fore they are awake." 
 
 " I have spoken with two or three of the servants. 
 They tell some singular stories."
 
 208 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Very well : we shall see. But I must hurry and find 
 the judge of inquiry, who will be impatient." 
 
 Albert began to revive a little from the stupor into 
 which he had been plunged on the entrance of the com- 
 missary of police. 
 
 " Monsieur," he asked, " will you permit me to say 
 a few words in your presence to the Count de Com- 
 marin? I am a victim of some mistake, which will be 
 quickly remedied." 
 
 " It's always a mistake," muttered Pere Tabaret. 
 
 " What you ask is impossible," replied the commis- 
 sary. " I have special orders of the strictest sort. You 
 cannot henceforth communicate with a living soul. A 
 carriage is in waiting below. Will you descend ? " 
 
 In crossing the vestibule, Albert noticed great agita- 
 tion among the servants. They all seemed to have lost 
 their senses. Denis gave orders in a sharp, imperative 
 tone. Then he thought he heard that the Count de Com- 
 marin had been struck with apoplexy. After that, he 
 remembered nothing. 
 
 They almost carried him to the carriage ; which drove 
 off as fast as the two little horses could go. A more 
 rapid vehicle bore away Pere Tabaret. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE visitor who risks himself in the labyrinth of 
 galleries and stairways in the palais de justice, and 
 mounts to the third story in the left wing, will find 
 himself in a long, low-studded gallery, badly lighted by 
 narrow windows, and pierced at short intervals by little 
 doors, like a hall at the ministry or. at a lodging-house.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 209 
 
 It is a place difficult to view calmly, the imagination 
 makes it appear so dark and dismal. 
 
 It needs a Dante to compose an inscription to place 
 above the doors which lead from it. From morning to 
 night, the flagstones resound under the heavy tread of 
 the gendarmes, who accompany the prisoners. You 
 can scarcely recall any thing but sad figures there. 
 There are the parents or friends of the accused, the wit- 
 nesses, the detectives. In this gallery, far from the 
 sight of men, the judicial curriculum is gone through 
 with. 
 
 Each one of the little doors, which has its number 
 painted over it in black, opens into the office of a judge 
 of inquiry. All the rooms are just alike: if you see one, 
 you have seen them all. They have nothing terrible 
 nor sad in themselves; and yet it is difficult to enter 
 one of them without a shudder. They are cold. The 
 walls all seem moist with the tears which have been 
 shed there. You shudder, at thinking of the avowals 
 wrested from criminals, of the confessions broken with 
 sobs murmured there. 
 
 In the office of the judge of inquiry, Justice clothes 
 herself in none of that apparel which she afterwards 
 dons in order to strike fear into the masses. She is still 
 simple, and almost disposed to kindness. She says to 
 the prisoner, 
 
 " I have strong reasons for thinking you guilty ; 
 but prove to me your innocence, and I will release 
 you." 
 
 On entering one of these rooms, a stranger would 
 imagine that he got into a cheap shop by mistake. The 
 furniture is of the most primitive sort, as is the case in 
 all places where important matters are transacted. Of 
 what consequence are surroundings to the judge hunt-
 
 210 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ing down the author of a crime, or to the accused who 
 is defending his life? 
 
 A desk full of documents for the judge, a table for 
 the clerk, an arm-chair, and one or two chairs besides 
 comprise the entire furniture of the antechamber of the 
 court of assize. The walls are hung with green paper ; 
 the curtains are green, and the floors are carpeted in the 
 same color. Monsieur Daburon's office bore the number 
 fifteen. 
 
 At nine o'clock in the morning, he had arrived, and 
 was waiting. His course resolved upon, he lost not an 
 instant, understanding as well as Pere Tabaret the ne- 
 cessity of rapid action. So he had already had an inter- 
 view with the imperial solicitor, and had consulted the 
 officers of the police judiciary. 
 
 Besides the warrant issued against Albert, he had 
 despatched summons of immediate appearance, before 
 him, to the Count de Commarin, Madame Gerdy, Noel 
 and some of Albert's servants. 
 
 He thought it essential to examine all these before 
 calling in the prisoner. 
 
 Under his orders, ten detectives were sent into the 
 country ; and he himself sat in his office, like a general 
 of an army, who sends off his aides-de-camp to begin 
 the battle, and who hopes for victory through his com- 
 binations. 
 
 Often, at this same hour, he had sat in this same of- 
 fice, under conditions almost identical. A crime had 
 been committed : he believed he had discovered the crim- 
 inal ; he had given orders for his arrest. Was not that 
 his duty? But he had never experienced this anxiety 
 of mind which disturbed him now. Many a time had 
 he issued warrants of arrest, without having nearly half 
 the proofs which shone out so clearly in the present case.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 211 
 
 He kept repeating this to himself; and yet he could 
 not quiet this dreadful anxiety, which would not give 
 him a moment's rest. 
 
 He wondered why his people were so long in making 
 their appearance. He walked up and down the room, 
 counting the minutes, drawing out his watch three times 
 within the quarter of an hour, to compare it with the 
 clock. Hearing a step in the gallery, nearly deserted at 
 that hour, he involuntarily moved near the door, stopped 
 and listened. 
 
 Some one knocked. It was his clerk, late this morn- 
 ing. 
 
 There was nothing particular in this man; he was 
 long rather than large, and very slim. His gait was 
 precise, his gestures methodical ; his face was as im- 
 passive as if it had been cut out of a piece of yellow 
 wood. 
 
 He was thirty-four years of age, and since thirty had 
 taken minutes of examination for four judges of in- 
 quiry in succession. It is said that he could hear, with- 
 out moving a muscle, the most utter absurdities. 
 
 An ingenious writer has thus defined a clerk, " A pen 
 for the judge of inquiry ; a personage who is dumb but 
 speaks, who is blind but writes, who is deaf but hears." 
 This man answered the definition. His name was Con- 
 stant. 
 
 He bowed to the judge, and excused himself for his 
 tardiness. He had been busy with his book-keeping, 
 which he did every morning ; and he had got so inter- 
 ested in it that his wife had had to remind him of the 
 way time was passing. 
 
 " You are still in good time," said Daburon ; " but 
 we shall have plenty of work : so you had better get your 
 papers ready."
 
 212 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Five minutes later, the usher introduced Noel Gerdy. 
 
 He entered with an easy manner, like an advocate 
 who had considerable practice in the palais, and who 
 knew its ways. He in no way resembled, this morning, 
 the friend of Pere Tabaret ; still less could he have been 
 recognized as the lover of Madame Juliette. He was 
 entirely another being, or rather he had resumed his 
 customary role. 
 
 It was now the official who appeared, one who rec- 
 ognized his confreres, esteemed his friends, was be- 
 loved in the circle of his acquaintance. 
 
 From his firm step, his placid face, one would never 
 imagine that, after an evening of emotion and excite- 
 ment, after a stolen visit to his mistress, he had passed 
 the night by the pillows of a dying woman, and that wo- 
 man his mother, or at least the one who had filled his 
 mother's place. 
 
 What a contrast between him and the judge! 
 
 The judge had not slept either ; and you could see lack 
 of rest in his feebleness, in his anxious look, in the dark 
 circles about his eyes. The front of his shirt was all 
 rumpled; not even his cuffs were fresh. Occupied 
 with the course of events, the soul had forgotten the 
 body. Noel's well-shaved chin, on the contrary, rested 
 upon an irreproachably white cravat ; his collar had not 
 a wrinkle ; his hair and his whiskers were most carefully 
 brushed. He bowed to Daburon, and held out his sum- 
 mons. 
 
 " You summoned me, monsieur," he said ; " and I 
 am at your orders." 
 
 The judge of inquiry had met the young advocate 
 several times in the lobbies of the palais ; and he recog- 
 nized him at sight. He remembered having heard this
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 213 
 
 Gerdy spoken of as a man of talent and promise, whose 
 reputation was fast rising. He therefore welcomed him 
 as a fellow-workman, and invited him to be seated. 
 
 The preliminaries common in the examinations of 
 all witnesses ended; the name, surname, age, place of 
 business, and so on registered, the judge, who had fol- 
 lowed his clerk with his eyes while he was writing, 
 turned to Noel. 
 
 " Do you know, Monsieur Gerdy," he began, " the 
 business on account of which you are troubled with ap- 
 pearing before me ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, the assassination of the poor old 
 woman at Jonchere." 
 
 " Precisely," replied Daburon. 
 
 Then, calling to mind his promise to Pere Tabaret, 
 he added, 
 
 " If Justice has summoned you so promptly, it is be- 
 cause we have found your name often mentioned in the 
 papers of the Widow Lerouge." 
 
 " I am not surprised at that," replied the advocate : 
 " we have been much interested in this good woman, 
 who was my nurse; and I know that Madame Gerdy 
 wrote to her quite often." 
 
 " Very well ; yow can then give me some information 
 about her." 
 
 " It will be, I fear, monsieur, very incomplete. I know, 
 very little about this poor Mother Lerouge. I was taken 
 from her at a very early age ; and since I have been a 
 man, I have thought little about her, except to send 
 her occasionally a little aid." 
 
 " You have never visited her? J 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I have gone there many times ; but I re- 
 mained only a few moments each time. Madame Gerdy,
 
 214 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 who has often seen her, and to whom she entrusted all 
 her affairs, could enlighten you much better than I, 
 however." 
 
 " I expect," said the judge, " to see Madame Gerdy 
 here ; she must have received a summons." 
 
 " She has, monsieur ; but it will be impossible for her 
 to appear; she is ill." 
 
 "Seriously?" 
 
 " So seriously that you will be obliged, I think, to give 
 up all expectations from her testimony. She is attacked 
 with a disease which, in the words of my friend, Dr. 
 Herve, never pardons. It is something like inflamma- 
 tion of the brain, encephalite, if I am not mistaken. 
 It may be that her life will be saved ; but she will never 
 recover her reason. If she does not die, she will be in- 
 sane." 
 
 Daburon appeared much troubled. 
 
 " This is very vexatious," he muttered. " And you 
 think, my dear sir, that it will be impossible to obtain 
 any thing from her ? " 
 
 " It is useless even to hope for it. She has com- 
 pletely lost her reason. She was, when I left her, in 
 such a state of utter prostration that I fear she cannot 
 live through the day." 
 
 " And when was she attacked by this illness ? " 
 
 " Yesterday evening." 
 
 "Suddenly?" 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, apparently, at least ; though I my- 
 self think she has been suffering from it for the last 
 three weeks at least. But yesterday, on rising from 
 dinner, after having eaten but little, she took up a news- 
 paper; and, by a most unhappy chance, her eyes fell 
 exactly upon the lines which told of this crime. All at
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 215 
 
 once she uttered a loud cry, fell back in her chair, and 
 thence slipped to the floor, murmuring, ' Oh, the un- 
 happy man, the unhappy man ! ' 
 
 " The unhappy woman, you mean." 
 
 " No, monsieur. I spoke advisedly. Evidently the 
 exclamation did not refer to my poor nurse." 
 
 Upon this reply, so important and yet made in the 
 most unconscious tone, Daburon raised his eyes to the 
 witness. The advocate lowered his head. 
 
 " And then? " asked the judge, after a moment's si- 
 lence, during which he had taken a few notes. 
 
 " Those words, monsieur, were the last spoken by 
 Madame Gerdy. Assisted by our servant, I carried her 
 to her bed. The doctor was called; and, since then, 
 she has not recovered consciousness. The doctor " 
 
 " It is well," interrupted Daburon, " Let us leave 
 that for the present. Do you know, monsieur, any one 
 who might have been at enmity with the Widow Le- 
 rouge ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur." 
 
 " She had no enemies ? Well, now tell me, does there 
 exist to your knowledge any one having any interest 
 whatever in the death of this poor woman?" 
 
 The judge of inquiry, in putting this question, kept 
 his eyes fixed on Noel's not allowing him to turn or 
 lower his head. 
 
 The advocate started, and seemed deeply moved. He 
 was disconcerted; he hesitated, as if a struggle was 
 going on within him. 
 
 Finally, in a voice which was by no means firm, he 
 replied, 
 
 " No, no one." 
 
 "Is that really true?" demanded the judge looking -
 
 216 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 at him more sternly. " You know no one whom this 
 crime benefits, or whom it might benefit, absolutely 
 no one ? " 
 
 " I know only one thing, monsieur," replied Noel ; 
 "and that is, that, as far as I am concerned, it has 
 caused me an irreparable injury." 
 
 " At last," thought Daburon, " we have got at the 
 letters; and I have not betrayed poor Pere Tabaret. 
 It would be too bad to cause the least trouble to that 
 zealous and invaluable man." 
 
 " An injury to you, my dear sir? " he replied; " you 
 will, I hope, explain yourself." 
 
 The embarrassment, of which Noel had already given 
 some signs, appeared now much more marked. 
 
 " I am aware, monsieur," he replied, " that I owe jus- 
 tice not merely the truth, but the whole truth ; but there 
 are circumstances involved so delicate that the con- 
 science of a man of honor sees danger to itself. Then it 
 is very hard to be obliged to unveil these sad secrets, 
 whose revelations may sometime " 
 
 Daburon interrupted with a gesture. Noel's sad 
 tone impressed him. Knowing, beforehand, what he 
 was about to hear, he was pained for the young advo- 
 cate. He turned to his clerk. 
 
 " Constant ! " said he in a peculiar tone. 
 
 This tone was evidently a signal ; for the long clerk 
 arose methodically, put his pen behind his ear, and went 
 out in his measured tread. 
 
 Noel appeared sensible of this delicacy. His face 
 expressed the strongest gratitude: his look returned 
 thanks. 
 
 " I am so much obliged to you, monsieur," he said 
 with suppressed warmth, " for your generous kindness.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 217 
 
 What I have to say is very painful; but, before you 
 now, it will be scarcely an effort to speak." 
 
 "Fear nothing," replied the judge; "I will only 
 retain in your deposition my dear sir, what seems to me 
 absolutely indispensable." 
 
 " I feel scarcely master of myself, monsieur," began 
 Noel ; " so pray pardon my emotion. If any words 
 escape me that seem charged with bitterness, excuse 
 them ; it will be involuntarily. Up to the past few 
 days, I always believed that I was the offspring of il- 
 licit love. My history is short. I have been honorably 
 ambitious. I have worked hard. He who has no name 
 must make one, you know. I have passed a quiet life, 
 retired and austere, as people must, who, starting at the 
 foot of the ladder, wish to reach the top. I worshipped 
 her whom I believed to be my mother ; and I felt con- 
 vinced that she loved me in return. The stain of my 
 birth had some humiliations attached to it; but I de- 
 spised them. Comparing my lot with that of so many 
 others, I felt that I had more than common advantages. 
 One day, Providence placed in my hands all the letters 
 which my father, the Count de Commarin, had written 
 to Madame Gerdy at the time of their liaison. On 
 reading these letters, I was convinced that I was not 
 what I had hitherto believed myself to be, that Mad- 
 ame Gerdy was not my mother ! " 
 
 And. without giving Daburon time to reply, he laid 
 before him the facts which, twelve hours before, he had 
 recounted to Pere Tabaret. 
 
 It was the same story, with the same circumstances, 
 the same abundance of precise and conclusive details; 
 but the tone was entirely changed. Before the old de- 
 tective, the young advocate had been emphatic and
 
 218 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 violent; but now, in the office of the judge of inquiry, 
 he had restrained and sobered his violent emotions. 
 
 One might imagine that he adapted his manner to his 
 auditor, wishing to produce the same effect on both, 
 and using that method which would best accomplish his 
 purpose. 
 
 To Pere Tabaret, an ordinary mind, he used the ex- 
 aggeration of anger; to Daburon, of superior intelli- 
 gence, he used the exaggeration of restraint. 
 
 While his mind rebelled against his unjust lot, he 
 nevertheless seemed to bow, armed with resignation, 
 before a blind fatality. 
 
 With genuine eloquence and rare happiness of ex- 
 pression, he drew his situation on the day following the 
 discovery, his grief, his perplexity, his doubts. 
 
 To support this moral certainty, there needed some 
 positive testimony. Could he hope for this from the 
 count or from Madame Gerdy, both interested in con- 
 cealing the truth? No. But he had counted upon 
 that of his nurse, the poor old woman who loved him, 
 and who, near the close of her life, would be glad to free 
 her conscience from this heavy load. She was dead 
 now; and the letters became mere waste papers in his 
 hands. 
 
 Then he passed to his explanation with Madame 
 Gerdy; and he gave the judge even fuller details than 
 he had given his old neighbor. 
 
 She had, he said, at first utterly denied the substitu- 
 tion ; but he gave it to be understood that, plied with 
 questions, overcome by the evidence, in a moment of 
 despair she had confessed all, declaring at the same time 
 that she would retract and deny this confession, being 
 resolved at all hazards that her son should preserve his 
 position.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 219 
 
 From this scene, in the advocate's judgment, the first 
 attacks of the sickness, to which she had finally suc- 
 cumbed, might be dated. 
 
 Noel then described his interview with the Viscount 
 de Commarin. 
 
 In his narrative, there slipped in a few inaccuracies, 
 but so slight that it would be difficult to charge him 
 with them. Besides, there was nothing in them at al 1 
 unfavorable to Albert. 
 
 He insisted, on the contrary, upon the excellent im- 
 pression which he had received of that young man. 
 
 Albert had received the revelation with a certain de- 
 fiance, it is true, but with a noble firmness at the same 
 time, and like a brave heart, was ready to bow before the 
 justification of right. 
 
 In fact, he drew an almost enthusiastic portrait of 
 this rival, who had not been spoiled by prosperity, who 
 had left him without a look of hatred, towards whom he 
 felt himself drawn, and who after all was his brother. 
 
 Daburon had listened to Noel with the most unre- 
 mitting attention, without a word, a movement, a frown, 
 betraying his feelings. When he had ended, 
 
 " How, monsieur," observed the judge, " could you 
 have told me that, in your opinion, no one was inter- 
 ested in the death of the Widow Lerouge ? " 
 
 The advocate made no reply. 
 
 " It seems to me that the Viscount de Commarin's 
 position has by it become almost impregnable. Madame 
 Gerdy is insane; the count will deny all; your letters 
 prove nothing. It is evident that the crime is of the 
 greatest service to this young man, and that it was 
 committed at a singularly favorable moment." 
 
 " O monsieur ! " cried Noel, protesting with all his 
 energy, " this insinuation is dreadful."
 
 220 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The judge watched the advocate's face narrowly. 
 Was he speaking frankly, or was he but playing the 
 generous role ? Could it really be that he had never had 
 any suspicion of this? Noel did not flinch under the 
 gaze, but almost immediately continued, 
 
 " What reason could Albert have for trembling, fear- 
 ing for his position ? I did not utter one word of threat, 
 even indirectly. I did not present myself raging, like 
 a robbed man, who demands that every thing which had 
 been taken from him should be restored on the spot. I 
 merely presented the facts to Albert, saying, ' Here, 
 what do you think we ought to do? Be the judge.' " 
 
 " And he asked you for time ? " 
 
 " Yes. I had just suggested his accompanying me 
 to the Widow Lerouge, whose testimony might dispel all 
 doubts ; he did not seem to understand me. But he was 
 well acquainted with her, having often visited her with 
 the count, who supplied her, I have since learned, lib- 
 erally with money." 
 
 " Does not this generosity appear to you very sin- 
 gular?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Can you explain why the viscount did not appear 
 disposed to accompany you ? " 
 
 " Certainly. He said that he wished, before all, to 
 have an explanation with his father, who was then ab- 
 sent, but who would return within a few days." 
 
 The truth, as all the world knows, and delights in 
 proclaiming, has an accent which no one can mistake. 
 Daburon had not the slightest doubt of his witness's 
 good faith. Noel continued with an ingenuous candor, 
 like an honest heart, which suspicion has never touched 
 with its bat's wing. 
 
 " The idea of treating at once with my father pleased
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 221 
 
 me exceedingly. I consider it so much better to wash 
 all one's dirty linen at home, that I have never desired 
 any thing but an amicable arrangement. With my 
 hands full of proofs, I should still recoil from a public 
 trial." 
 
 "Would you not have brought an action?" 
 
 " Never, monsieur, at any price. Could I," he added, 
 proudly, " on assuming my rightful name, begin by dis- 
 honoring it ? " 
 
 For once, Daburon could not conceal his sincere ad- 
 miration. 
 
 " A most praiseworthy feeling, monsieur," he said. 
 
 " I think," replied Noel, " it is but natural. If the 
 worse came to the worst, I had determined to leave my 
 title with Albert. Certainly the name of Commarin is 
 an illustrious one; but I hope that, within ten years, 
 mine will be equally so. I would have simply de- 
 manded a large pecuniary compensation. I possess 
 nothing; and I have often been hampered in my career 
 by this miserable question of money. That which Mad- 
 ame Gerdy owed to the generosity of my father was 
 almost entirely spent. My education had absorbed a 
 great part of it; and it was long before my profes- 
 sion covered my expenses. Madame Gerdy and I 
 lived very quietly; but, unfortunately, though sim- 
 ple in her tastes, she lacked economy and system : 
 and no one can imagine how great our expenses 
 have been. But I have nothing to reproach myself 
 with, whatever happens. From the commencement, 
 I have kept my anger well under control ; and 
 even now I bear no ill-will. On learning of the death 
 of my nurse, though, I cast all my hopes into the sea." 
 
 " You are wrong, my dear sir," said the judge. " I 
 advise you to still hope. Perhaps, before the end is
 
 222 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 reached, you will yet enter into possession of your 
 rights. Justice, I will not conceal from you, thinks she 
 has found the assassin of the Widow Lerouge. At 
 this moment, the Viscount Albert is doubtless under 
 arrest." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Noel with a sort of stupor ; 
 " can it be true ? I was, then, not mistaken, monsieur, 
 in the meaning of your words. I dreaded to under- 
 stand them." 
 
 " You have not mistaken me, monsieur," said Dabu- 
 ron. " I thank you for your sincere, straightforward 
 explanations ; they have eased my task materially. To- 
 morrow, for to-day my time is all taken up, we will 
 regularly take your deposition, at this same hour, if 
 convenient to you. There is nothing more, I believe, 
 except to ask you for the letters in your possession, and 
 which are indispensable to me." 
 
 " Within an hour, monsieur, you shall have them," 
 replied Noel. 
 
 And he retired, after having warmly expressed his 
 gratitude to the judge of inquiry. 
 
 Less preoccupied, the advocate perceived at the end 
 of the gallery Pere Tabaret, who had just arrived, 
 eager and happy, like a bearer of good news as he was. 
 
 His carriage had scarcely stopped before the gate of 
 the palais de justice before he was in the court, and 
 rushing towards the porch. To see him jumping more 
 nimbly than a fifth rate lawyer's clerk up the steep 
 flight of stairs leading to the judge's office, you would 
 never believe that he had been years on the shady side 
 of fifty. Even he doubted the fact. He did not re- 
 member having passed the dark line : he had never felt 
 so fresh, so agile, in such spirits ; he had springs of 
 steel in his limbs.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 223 
 
 He crossed the gallery in two jumps, and burst like 
 a cannon shot into the judge's apartment, hustling 
 against the methodical clerk in the rudest of ways, 
 without even asking his pardon. 
 
 " Caught ! " he cried, while yet on the threshold, 
 " caught, nipped, squeezed, strung, trapped, locked ! 
 We have got our man." 
 
 Pere Tabaret, more " Tirauclair " than ever, ges- 
 ticulated with such comical vehemence and such re- 
 markable contortions that even the long clerk smiled; 
 for which, however, he took himself severely to task, 
 on going to bed that night. 
 
 But Daburon, still under the influence of Noel's de- 
 position, was shocked at this apparently unseasonable 
 joy; although he felt the safer for it. He looked se- 
 verely at Pere Tabaret, saying, 
 
 " Hush, monsieur ; be decent ; compose yourself." 
 
 At any other time, the old fellow would have been 
 frightened at having deserved such a reprimand. Now 
 it made no impression on him. 
 
 " I can't be quiet," he replied ; " and I am proud of 
 it. Never has any thing like it been seen. All that I 
 predicted has been found. Broken foil, pearl gray 
 gloves slightly frayed, cigar-holder; nothing is want- 
 ing. You shall have them, monsieur, and many more 
 like them. I have a little system of my own, which 
 appears by no means a bad one. Just see the triumph 
 of my method of induction, which Gevrol ridiculed so. 
 I'd give a hundred francs if he were only here now. 
 But no: my Gevrol wants to nab the man with the 
 earrings; he is capable of doing just that. He is a fine 
 fellow, this Gevrol, a famous fellow! How much do 
 you give him a year for his skill ? " 
 
 " Come, my dear Tabaret," said the judge, as soon
 
 224 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 as he could get a word in, " be serious, if you can, and 
 let us proceed regularly." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " replied the old fellow, " what good will 
 it do ? It is a clear case now. When theyv bring our 
 man before you, show him simply the particles taken 
 from the fingers of the victim side by side with his torn 
 gloves; and you will overwhelm him. I wager that 
 he will confess all, hie et nunc, yes, I wager my head 
 against his : although that's pretty risky ; for he will 
 get off yet! These milksops on the jury are just capa- 
 ble of according him extenuating circumstances. I'd 
 give him extenuating circumstances. Ah ! these snails 
 destroy justice! Why, if all the world were of my 
 mind, the punishment of these rascals wouldn't take 
 such a time! The moment they were captured, that 
 moment they should be strung up. That's my opin- 
 ion." 
 
 Daburon resigned himself to this shower of words. 
 When the old fellow's excitement had cooled down a 
 little, he simply began questioning him. He was even 
 then in great trouble to obtain the exact details of the 
 arrest, details which might confirm the official re- 
 port of the commissary of police. 
 
 The judge appeared much surprised at hearing that 
 Albert, at sight of the warrant, had exclaimed, " I am 
 lost!" 
 
 " That," muttered he, " is a terrible proof against 
 him." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Pere Tabaret. " In his ordi- 
 nary state, he would never have allowed these words to 
 escape him ; which in fact destroy him. It was be- 
 cause we arrested him when he was scarcely awake. 
 He hadn't been in bed, but was lying in a troubled 
 sleep, upon a sofa, when we arrived. I took good care
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 225 
 
 to send a frightened "servant in in advance, and then to 
 follow closely upon him myself; because he was thus 
 demoralized. All my calculations were made. But, 
 never fear, he will find a plausible excuse for this fatal 
 exclamation. By the way, I should add that we found 
 on the floor, near by, last evening's ' Gazette de France ' 
 all rumpled, which contained the report of the assassina- 
 tion. This is the first time that a piece of news in the 
 papers ever helped to nab a criminal." 
 
 " Yes," murmured the judge, deep in thought, 
 " yes, you are a valuable man, Tabaret." Then, louder, 
 he added, " I am thoroughly convinced ; for Noel 
 Gerdy has just this moment left me." 
 
 " You have seen Noel," cried the old fellow. 
 
 On the instant all his proud self-satisfaction disap- 
 peared. A cloud of anxiety, like a veil, spread over his 
 face, and eclipsed his joy. 
 
 "Noel here," he repeated; then timidly added, " and 
 does he know ? " 
 
 " Nothing," replied Daburon. " I had no need of 
 bringing you in. Besides, had I not promised absolute 
 secrecy ? " 
 
 "Ah, that's all right," cried Pere Tabaret. "And 
 what do you think of Noel ? " 
 
 " His is, I am sure, a noble, worthy heart," said the 
 magistrate, " a nature both strong and tender. The 
 sentiments which I heard him express here, and the 
 genuineness of which it is impossible to doubt, mani- 
 fested an elevation of soul, unhappily, very rare. Sel' 
 dom in my life have I met with a man who so won my 
 sympathy from the first. I can well understand one's 
 pride in being among his friends." 
 
 " Just what I said ; he has precisely the same effecl 
 upon every one. I love him as though he were my
 
 226 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 own child ; and, whatever happens, he is to inherit my 
 entire fortune; yes, I intend leaving him every thing. 
 My will is made, and in the hands of Baron, my notary. 
 There is a legacy, too, for Madame Gerdy; but I am 
 going to scratch that out at once." 
 
 " Madame Gerdy, Tabaret, will soon be beyond all 
 need of worldly goods." 
 
 " How, what do you mean ? Has the count " 
 
 " She is dying, and will hardly last through the day ; 
 Monsieur Gerdy told me so himself." 
 
 " Ah ! heavens ! " cried the old fellow, " what do 
 you tell me? dying? Noel will go distracted; but 
 no : since she is not his mother, how can it affect him ? 
 Dying? I was so fond of her before this discovery. Poor 
 humanity! It seems as though all the accomplices in 
 that great sin are passing away at the same time ; for I 
 forgot to tell you, that, just as I was leaving the Hotel 
 de Commarin, I heard a servant telling another that the 
 count at the news of his son's arrest had fallen in a fit 
 of apoplexy." 
 
 " That will be the worst of misfortunes for young 
 Gerdy." 
 
 "For Noel?" 
 
 " I had counted upon M. de Commarin's testimony 
 to recover for him all that he so well deserves. The 
 count dead, the Widow Lerouge dead, Madame Gerdy 
 dying, or in any event insane, who then can tell us 
 whether the plan detailed in these letters was ever car- 
 ried into execution ? " 
 
 " True/' murmured Pere Tabaret ; " it is true ! And 
 I did not see it. What fatality! For I am not de- 
 ceived; I am certain that " 
 
 He did not finish. Daburon's office door opened ; and 
 the Count de Commarin himself appeared in the flesh,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 227 
 
 as stately as one of those old portraits which you might 
 imagine frozen in their gilded frames. 
 
 The old gentleman signed with his hand; and the 
 two servants who had helped him up as far as the 
 gallery, sustaining him on either side, retired. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 IT was the Count de Commarin, or rather his 
 shadow. His head, usually carried so high, fell upon 
 his breast ; his figure was bent ; his eyes had no longer 
 their accustomed fire; his fair hands trembled. The 
 extreme disorder of his dress rendered more striking 
 still the change which had come over him. In one 
 night, he had grown twenty years older. 
 
 These robust old men resemble great trees whose 
 inner wood has crumbled away, and whose only life is 
 in the bark without. 
 
 They are apparently unshaken, they seem to set 
 time at defiance; yet one blast of wind casts them to 
 the earth. This man, yesterday so proud of never hav- 
 ing bent to a storm, was now completely prostrated. 
 The pride of his name had constituted his entire 
 strength ; that humbled, he seemed utterly over- 
 whelmed. In him every thing gave way at once; all 
 his supports failed him at the same time. His cold, 
 lifeless gaze revealed the dull stupor of his thoughts. 
 He presented such an image of utter despair that the 
 judge of inquiry shuddered at the sight. Tabaret 
 looked frightened, and even the clerk seemed moved. 
 
 " Constant," said Monsieur Daburon quickly, " go 
 with Monsieur Tabaret, and see if there's any news at 
 the prefecture,"
 
 228 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 The clerk left the room, followed by the old man, 
 who went away regretfully. The count had not noticed 
 their presence ; he paid no attention to their departure. 
 
 Daburon offered him a seat, which he accepted with 
 a sad smile. " I feel so weak," said he, " you must 
 excuse my sitting." 
 
 Apologies to an inferior magistrate! What an ad- 
 vance in civilization, when the nobility consider them- 
 selves subject to the law, and bow to its decrees! It 
 was far different when the Duchess of Bouillon mocked 
 at parliament, when the haughty nobles that infested 
 the reign of Louis XIV. treated with the greatest in- 
 dignity the counsellor of the chambre d'ardente. All 
 the world respects justice nowadays; and an innocent 
 man need fear but little, even when defended only by a 
 simple, conscientious judge of inquiry. 
 
 " You are perhaps too unwell, count," said the judge, 
 " to give me the explanations I had hoped for." 
 
 " I am better, thank you," replied Monsieur de Com- 
 marin, " than I have been since the terrible blow has 
 fallen upon me. When I heard of the crime of which 
 my son is accused, and of his arrest, I was stunned. I 
 believed myself strong; I find myself a poor, weak old 
 man. My servants thought me dead. Would that I 
 were. The strength of my constitution, my physician 
 tells me, was all that saved me ; but I know that heaven 
 has kept me alive, that I may drink to the bitter dregs 
 this cup of humiliation." 
 
 He stopped for a moment, choked by a flow of blood 
 that rose to his mouth. 
 
 The judge of inquiry remained near the table, not 
 daring to move. 
 
 After a few moments' rest, the count found relief, 
 and proceeded.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 229 
 
 " Unhappy man that I am ! did I not expect it ? 
 Every thing comes to light sooner or later. I am pun- 
 ished for my great sin, pride. I thought myself out 
 of reach of the thunderbolt ; and I have been the means 
 of drawing down the storm upon my house. Albert 
 an assassin ! A Viscount de Commarin arraigned be- 
 fore a court of assize! Ah, monsieur, punish me, too; 
 for I alone and long ago, laid the foundation of this 
 crime. A race bearing for fifteen centuries a spotless 
 name closes with me in infamy." 
 
 Daburon considered the conduct of the Count de 
 Commarin unpardonable, and had determined not to 
 spare him. 
 
 He had expected to meet a proud, haughty noble, 
 almost unmanageable; and he had resolved to humble 
 his arrogance. 
 
 Perhaps the harsh treatment he had received of old 
 from the Marquise d'Arlanges had given him, uncon- 
 sciously, a slight grudge against aristocracy. 
 
 He had vaguely thought of certain rather severe re- 
 marks, which were to overcome the old gentleman, and 
 bring him to his senses. 
 
 But, when he found in his presence a real penitent, 
 his indignation changed to profound pity ; and he asked 
 himself how he could assuage his grief. 
 
 " Write, monsieur," continued the count, with an ex- 
 ultation of which he would not have been capable ten 
 minutes before, " write my avowal withholding noth- 
 ing. I have no longer need of mercy nor of tenderness. 
 What have I to fear now ? Is not my disgrace public ? 
 Must not I, Count Rheteau de Commarin, appear before 
 the tribunal, to proclaim the infamy of our house ? Ah ! 
 all is lost now, even honor itself. Write, monsieur ; my 
 wish is, that all the world shall know that I am the most
 
 230 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 to blame. But they shall also know that already the 
 punishment has been terrible, and that there is no new 
 need of this last and mortal trial." 
 
 The count interrupted himself, to concentrate and ar- 
 range his memory. 
 
 He continued, then, with a firmer voice, adapting his 
 tone to what he had to say, 
 
 " When I was of Albert's age, monsieur, my parents 
 made me marry, in spite of my protestations, the noblest 
 and purest of young girls. I made her the most un- 
 happy of women. I could not love her. I cherished a 
 most passionate love for a mistress, who had trusted 
 herself to me, and whom I had loved for many years. 
 I found her rich in beauty, purity, and soul. Her name 
 was Valerie. My heart is dead and cold in me, mon- 
 sieur ; but, ah ! when I pronounce that name, it calls me 
 again to life. In spite of my marriage, I could not in- 
 duce myself to part from her ; nor did she wish it. The 
 idea of a disgraceful separation was revolting to her; 
 for she loved me then. Our relations continued. 
 
 " My wife and my mistress became mothers at nearly 
 the same time. This coincidence suggested to me the 
 sad idea of sacrificing my legitimate son to his less for- 
 tunate brother. I communicated this project to Valerie. 
 To my surprise, she refused it with horror. Already the 
 maternal instinct had awakened in her; she would not 
 be separated from her child. I have preserved, as a 
 memento of my folly, the letters which she wrote to me 
 at this time. I have re-read them only this night. Ah ! 
 how could I have refused both her arguments and her 
 prayers ? It was because I was mad. She had the same 
 presentiment of evil which weighs me down to-day. But 
 I came to Paris. I had absolute control over her. I 
 threatened to leave her, never to see her again. She
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 231 
 
 yielded; and my valet and Claudine Lerouge were 
 charged with this wicked substitution. It is therefore, 
 the son of my mistress who wears the title of Viscount 
 de Commarin, and who was arrested but an hour since." 
 
 Daburon had not hoped for a declaration so clear, and 
 above all so prompt. He secretly rejoiced for the young 
 advocate, whose sentiments had so won upon him. 
 
 " So, count," said he, " you acknowledge that Noel 
 Gerdy was the issue of your legitimate marriage, and 
 that he alone is entitled to bear your name ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur. Alas ! I was then more delighted at 
 the success of my project than I should have been over 
 the most brilliant victory. I was so intoxicated with the 
 joy of having my Valerie's child there, near me, that I 
 forgot every thing. I had 'transferred to him a part of 
 my love for his mother ; or, rather, I loved him still bet- 
 ter, if that be possible. The thought that he would bear 
 my name, that he would inherit all my wealth, to the 
 detriment of the other, transported me with delight. The 
 other, I hated; I could not even look upon him. I do 
 not recollect having embraced him twice even. 
 
 " It was on this point alone that Valerie, who was 
 very good, reproached me severely. 
 
 " One thing alone interfered with my happiness. The 
 Countess de Commarin adored him whom she believed 
 to be her son, and always wished to have him on her 
 knees. I cannot express what I suffered at seeing my 
 wife cover with kisses and caresses the child of my 
 mistress. 
 
 " But I kept him from her as much as I could ; and 
 she, poor girl! not understanding what was passing 
 within me, imagined that I was doing every thing to 
 keep her son from loving her. She died, monsieur, with 
 this idea, which poisoned her last days. She died of sor-
 
 232 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 row ; but saintlike, without a complaint, without a mur- 
 mur, pardon upon her lips and in her heart." 
 
 Much pressed for time, Daburon, however, did not 
 dare to interrupt the count, and ask him briefly for the 
 immediate facts of the case. He knew that fever alone 
 gave him this energy, to which a moment after might 
 succeed the most complete prostration. He feared, if 
 he stopped him for an instant, that he would not have 
 strength enough to begin again. 
 
 " I had not/' continued the count, " a tear for her. 
 What had she been in my life ? A cause of sorrow and 
 remorse. But the justice of God, in advance of man's, 
 took a terrible revenge. One day, I w.as warned that 
 Valerie had deceived me, and had broken with me for 
 a long time. I could not believe it at first; it seemed 
 to me impossible, absurd. I would have sooner doubted 
 myself than her. I had taken her from a garret, where 
 she had worked sixteen hours to earn thirty sous: she 
 owed every thing to me. Every thing had gone so 
 smoothly in the past that her falseness was in some way 
 repugnant to my reason. I could not induce myself to 
 feel jealous. However, I inquired into the matter; I 
 watched her; I even descended to setting a spy upon 
 her. I had been told the truth. This unhappy girl had 
 a lover, and had had him for more than ten years. He 
 was a cavalry officer. He came to her house with every 
 precaution. Usually he departed about midnight: but 
 sometimes he came to pass the night, and in that case 
 left in the early morning. Being stationed near Paris, 
 he obtained leaves to visit it ; and, during these leaves, 
 he remained shut up in her house without going out at 
 all. One evening, my spies brought me word that he 
 was there. I hastened to the house. My presence did 
 not embarrass her. She received me as usual, throwing
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 233 
 
 her arms about my neck. I thought that my spies had de- 
 ceived me ; and I was going to tell her all, when I saw 
 upon the piano a buckskin glove, such as is worn by sol- 
 diers. Not wishing a scene, and not knowing to what 
 excess my anger might carry me, I took my departure 
 without a word. I have never seen her since. She wrote 
 to me. I did not open her letters. She attempted to 
 force her way into my presence, but in vain : my serv- 
 ants had orders that they dared not break." 
 
 Could this be the Count de Commarin, celebrated for 
 his haughty coldness, for his reserve, so full of disdain, 
 who spoke thus, who opened his whole life without re- 
 strictions, without reserve? And to whom? To a 
 stranger. 
 
 He was in one of those desperate states, allied to mad- 
 ness, when all reflection leaves us, when we must have 
 some outlet to a too powerful emotion. 
 
 What mattered this secret to him, so courageously 
 carried for so many years? 
 
 He disburdened himself of it, like the miserable man, 
 who, weighed down by a too heavy burden, casts it to 
 the earth without caring where it falls, nor how it tempts 
 the cupidity of the passers by. 
 
 " Nothing," continued he, " no, nothing, can ap- 
 proach to what I then endured. My very heart-strings 
 were bound up in that woman. She was like a part of 
 myself. In separating myself from her, it seemed to me 
 that I was tearing away a part of my own flesh. I can- 
 not tell what furious passions her memory stirred within 
 me. I scorned her and longed for her with equal ve- 
 hemence. I hated her, and I loved her. And, to this 
 day, I have retained her detestable image. Nothing 
 can make me forget her. I have never consoled myself 
 for her loss. And that is not all ; terrible doubts about
 
 234 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Albert occurred to me. Was I really his father? Can 
 you understand what my punishment was, when I said 
 to myself, ' I have perhaps sacrificed my own child to 
 that of an utter stranger.' This thought made me hate 
 the youth. To my great love, there succeeded an un- 
 conquerable repulsion. How often, in those times, I 
 struggled against an insane desire to murder him! 
 Since then, I have learned to subdue my aversion; but 
 I have never completely mastered it. Albert, monsieur, 
 has been the best of sons. Nevertheless, there has al- 
 ways been an icy barrier between us, which he could 
 never explain. Often I have been upon the point of pre- 
 senting myself before the tribunals, of avowing all, of 
 reclaiming my legitimate heir; but regard for my rank 
 has prevented me. I recoiled before the scandal. I 
 feared the ridicule or disgrace that would attach itself 
 to my name ; and yet I have not been able to save it from 
 infamy." 
 
 The voice of the old gentleman was silent, after these 
 words. With a desolate movement, he buried his face 
 in both hands. Two great tears, almost immediately 
 dry, rolled silently down his wrinkled cheeks. 
 
 In the mean time, the door of the study opened half 
 way, and the head of the long clerk appeared. 
 
 Daburon signed to him to enter, and then addressing 
 Monsieur de Commarin, said, in a voice that compassion 
 made the more gentle, 
 
 " Monsieur, in the eyes of heaven, as in the eyes of so- 
 ciety, you have committed a great sin; and the results, 
 you see, are the most disastrous. This sin it is your 
 duty to repair as much as lies in your power." 
 
 " Such is my intention, monsieur, and, shall I say, 
 my dearest wish." 
 
 " You doubtless understand me," continued Daburon.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 235 
 
 " Yes, monsieur," replied the old man, " yes, I un- 
 derstand you." 
 
 " It will doubtless be a consolation for you," added the 
 judge, " to learn that Noel Gerdy is worthy in all re- 
 spects of the high position that you are going to restore 
 to him. You will certainly acknowledge that his char- 
 acter is of the greater worth, from his having raised 
 himself by his own exertions. He is a man of great tal- 
 ent, better and worthier than any one I know. You 
 will have a son worthy of his ancestors. And no one 
 of your family will regret, monsieur, that the Viscount 
 Albert is not a Commarin." 
 
 " No," replied the count quickly, " a Commarin would 
 have died by this time ; and blood washes all away." 
 
 This remark of the old gentleman set the judge of in- 
 quiry to think profoundly. 
 
 " Are you then sure," said he, " of the viscount's 
 guilt?" 
 
 M. de Commarin gave the judge a look of surprise. 
 
 " I only arrived in Paris yesterday evening," he re- 
 plied ; " and I am entirely ignorant of all that has oc- 
 curred. I only know that they would not proceed on 
 trifles against a man of Albert's rank. If you have 
 arrested him, it is quite evident that you have some- 
 thing more than suspicion against him, that you pos- 
 sess positive proofs." 
 
 Daburon bit his lips, and, for a moment, could not con- 
 ceal a feeling of displeasure. He had neglected his 
 usual prudence, had moved too quickly. He had be- 
 lieved the count's mind entirely overthrown ; and now he 
 had aroused his defiance. All the skill in the world could 
 not repair such an unfortunate mistake. 
 
 As the result of an examination, from which much 
 had been expected, all his plans might be overturned.
 
 236 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 A witness on his guard is a witness no longer to be 
 depended upon; he trembles for fear of compromising 
 himself, measures the weight of the questions, and hes- 
 itates as to his answers. 
 
 On the other hand, justice, in the form of a magis- 
 trate, is disposed to doubt every thing, to imagine every 
 thing, and to suspect all the world. 
 
 How far was the count a stranger to the crime at 
 Jonchere? Evidently, several days before it, although 
 doubting Albert's paternity, he had made great efforts 
 to retain his son in his place. His story showed that he 
 thought his honor concerned in his retention. 
 
 Was he not a man to suppress, by every means, an 
 inconvenient witness? Thus reasoned Monsieur Da- 
 buron. 
 
 And yet he could not clearly see how the Count de 
 Comarin's interests and his restless uncertainty were 
 concerned in the matter. His whole life opposed it. 
 
 " Monsieur," he began again more sternly, " when 
 were you informed of the discovery of your secret ? " 
 
 " Last evening, by Albert himself. He spoke to me of 
 this sad story, and of a deed which I now seek in vain 
 to explain, unless " 
 
 The count stopped short, as if his reason had been 
 struck by the improbability of the supposition which he 
 had formed. 
 
 " Unless ? " inquired the magistrate quickly. 
 
 " Monsieur," said the count, without replying di- 
 rectly, " Albert will be a hero, if he be not the criminal." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the magistrate quickly, " have you, then, 
 reason to think him innocent ? " 
 
 Daburon's spite was so plainly visible in the tone of 
 his words that Monsieur de Commarin could and ought 
 to have seen the appearance of a wicked intention. He
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 237 
 
 started, evidently offended, and righted himself by say- 
 ing 
 
 " I am no more a witness now to discharge than I 
 was a moment ago to condemn. I desire only to make 
 justice clear, in accordance with my duty." 
 
 " Confound it," said Daburon to himself, " here I 
 have offended him again ! Is this the way to do things, 
 making mistake after mistake? " 
 
 " The facts are these," said the count. " Yesterday, 
 after having spoken to me of these cursed letters, Al- 
 bert began to set a trap to discover the truth, for he 
 still had doubts, Noel Gerdy not having obtained the 
 complete correspondence. An animated discussion arose 
 between us. He declared his resolution to give way to 
 Noel. I, on the other hand, was resolved to compro- 
 mise, cost what it might. Albert dared to oppose me. 
 All my efforts to convert him to my views were in vain. 
 Vainly I tried to touch those cords in his breast which 
 I had supposed the most sensitive. He firmly repeated 
 his intention to retire in spite of me, declaring himself 
 satisfied, if I would consent to allow him a modest com- 
 petence. I again attempted to shake him, by showing 
 him that his marriage, so ardently looked forward to for 
 two years, would be broken off by this blow. He re- 
 plied that he felt sure of the constancy of his fiancee, 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges." 
 
 This name fell like a thunderbolt upon the ears of 
 the judge of inquiry. He fell back in his chair. 
 
 Feeling that he was turning crimson, he took, at a 
 venture, from his table a large bundle of papers, and, to 
 hide his emotion, raised it to his face, as if he was try- 
 ing to decipher an illegible word. 
 
 He began to understand the difficult duty with which 
 he was charged. He seemed troubled like a child, hav-
 
 238 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ing neither his usual calmness nor foresight. He felt 
 that he might commit the most serious blunder. Why 
 had he undertaken this inquiry ? Could he keep himself 
 a free arbiter? Did he think his will would be impar- 
 tial? 
 
 Gladly would he have turned over to another the 
 further examination of the count; but could he? His 
 conscience told him that this would be another blunder. 
 He renewed, then, the painful examination. 
 
 " Monsieur," said he, " the sentiments expressed by 
 the viscount are very fine, without doubt ; but did he 
 not speak to you of the Widow Lerouge ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the count, who appeared suddenly to 
 brighten, as by the remembrance of some unnoticed cir- 
 cumstances, " yes, certainly." 
 
 " He might have shown you that the testimony of this 
 woman would render a struggle with M. Gerdy impos- 
 sible." 
 
 " Precisely, monsieur ; and, aside from the question 
 of duty, it was upon that that he based his refusal to 
 follow my wishes." 
 
 " It will be necessary, count, for you to repeat to me 
 very exactly all that passed between the viscount and 
 yourself. Appeal, then, I beseech you, to your memory, 
 and strive to repeat his words as nearly as possible." 
 
 Monsieur de Commarin obeyed without much diffi- 
 culty. For a moment, a salutary reaction had worked 
 upon him. His blood, excited by the persistence of the 
 examination, renewed its accustomed course. His brain 
 redeemed itself. 
 
 The scene of last evening was admirably presented 
 to his memory, even to the most minute details. The 
 sound of Albert's words were again in his ears ; he saw 
 again his expressive gestures.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 239 
 
 As his story advanced, brilliant with clearness and 
 precision, Daburon's conviction was confirmed. 
 
 The judge turned against Albert precisely what had 
 the day before won the count's admiration. 
 
 " What wonderful acting ! " thought he. " Tabaret 
 is decidedly possessed of second sight. To his incon- 
 ceivable boldness, this young man joins an infernal clev- 
 erness. The genius of crime itself inspires him. It is 
 a miracle that we have been able to unmask him. How 
 well every thing was foreseen and arranged ! How 
 marvellously this scene with his father was brought 
 about, in order to bring doubt in case of discovery! 
 There is not a sentence which lacks a purpose, which 
 does not tend to ward off suspicion. What refinement 
 of execution ! What over-anxious care for details ! 
 Nothing failed him, not even the great devotion of his 
 fiancee. Had he really informed Claire? Probably I 
 might be sure of this ; but I should have to return to her, 
 to again speak to her. Poor child ! to love such a man ! 
 But he will now appear before her in his true colors. 
 This discussion, too, with the count was his plank of 
 safety. It committed him to nothing, and gained time. 
 He would of course raise objections, since they would 
 only end by binding himself the more firmly in his fa- 
 ther's heart. He could thus make a merit of his compli- 
 ance, and would ask a reward for his helplessness. And, 
 when Noel should return to the charge, he would find 
 against him the count, who would boldly deny every 
 thing, politely refuse him ; and he would, of course, be 
 driven out as an impostor and forger." 
 
 It was a strange coincidence, but yet easily explained, 
 that M. de Commarin, while telling his story, arrived 
 precisely at the same ideas with the judge, at conclu- 
 sions almost identical.
 
 240 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 In fact, why this persistence on the subject of Clau- 
 dine? He remembered plainly, that, in his anger, he 
 had said to his son, " Mankind is not in the habit of do- 
 ing such fine actions for its own satisfaction." This 
 great disinterestedness now explained itself. 
 
 " I thank you, monsieur," said Daburon : " I will 
 say nothing positive; but Justice has weighty reasons 
 to believe that, in the scene which you have just re- 
 ported to me, the Viscount Albert played a part pre- 
 viously arranged." 
 
 " And well arranged," murmured the count ; " for he 
 deceived me, me ! " 
 
 He was interrupted by the entrance of Noel, who car- 
 ried a shagreen portfolio, ornamented with black fig- 
 ures, under his arm. 
 
 The advocate bowed to the old gentleman, who in his 
 turn arose and retired politely to the end of the room. 
 
 " Monsieur," said Noel, in an undertone to the judge, 
 " you will find all the letters in this portfolio. I must 
 ask permission to leave you at once, as Madame Gerdy's 
 condition grows hourly more alarming." 
 
 Noel had raised his voice a little, in pronouncing 
 these last words ; and the count heard them. He started, 
 and needed great effort to restrain the question which 
 leaped from his heart into his mouth. 
 
 " You must give me a moment, my dear fellow," said 
 the judge. 
 
 Daburon then quitted his chair, and, taking the ad- 
 vocate by the hand, led him to the count. 
 
 " Monsieur de Commarin," said he, " I have the honor 
 of presenting to you M. Noel Gerdy." 
 
 M. de Commarin was probably expecting some scene 
 of this kind ; for not a muscle of his face moved : he re- 
 mained perfectly calm. Noel, on his side, was like a
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 241 
 
 man who had received a blow on the head ; he staggered, 
 and was- obliged to seek support from the back of a 
 chair. 
 
 Then these two, father and son, stood face to face, 
 apparently deep in thought, in reality examining one an- 
 other with dark distrust, each striving to gather some- 
 thing of the other's thought. 
 
 Daburon had hoped much from this coup de theatre, 
 which he had planned since the count's arrival. He had 
 expected to bring about, by this abrupt presentation, an 
 intensely pathetic scene, which would not give his cli- 
 ents time for reflection. The count would open his 
 arms: Noel would throw himself into them; and this 
 reconciliation would only await the sanction of the tri- 
 bunals, to be complete. 
 
 The coldness of one, the embarrassment of the other, 
 disconcerted his plans. He believed a more pressing 
 intervention necessary. 
 
 " Count," said he reproachfully, " remember that 
 Monsieur Gerdy is your legitimate son." 
 
 M. de Commarin made no reply; to judge from his 
 lack of emotion, he had not heard. 
 
 Then Noel, summoning all his courage, ventured to 
 speak first, 
 
 " Monsieur," he stammered, " I only wish " 
 
 " You may call me your father," interrupted the old 
 man, in a tone which certainly had nothing of emotion 
 or tenderness in it. Then addressing the judge, 
 
 " Can I be of any further use ? " he asked. 
 
 " Only to hear your deposition read," replied Da- 
 buron, " and to sign it, if you find it taken down cor- 
 rectly. You may proceed, Constant," he added. 
 
 The long clerk made a half turn in his chair, and 
 commenced. He had a peculiar way of sputtering over
 
 242 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 what he had scrawled. He read very quickly, all at 
 one dash, without paying attention to periods, commas, 
 questions, or replies, as long as his breath lasted. When 
 he could go on no longer, he took a breath, and went 
 on as before. Unconsciously, he reminded you of those 
 divers, who now and then raise their heads above water, 
 obtain a supply of air, and disappear again. Noel was 
 the only one to listen attentively to the reading, which 
 was to unpractised ears unintelligible. It apprised him 
 of things which it was important for him to know. At 
 last Constant pronounced the formula, en foi de quoi, 
 etc., which end all official reports in France. 
 
 He handed the pen to the count, who signed without 
 hesitation. The old gentleman then turned towards 
 Noel. 
 
 " I am not very strong," he said ; " you must, there- 
 fore, my son," (this word was emphasized) " help your 
 father to his carriage." 
 
 The young advocate advanced eagerly. His face 
 brightened, while he passed the count's arm through 
 his own. 
 
 When they were gone, Daburon could not resist an 
 impulse of curiosity. He hastened to the door, which 
 he opened; and, keeping his body in the background, 
 that he might not himself be seen, he extended his head, 
 examining the gallery with a glance. 
 
 The count and Noel had not yet reached the end. 
 They were going slowly. The count seemed to drag 
 heavily and painfully along; the advocate took short 
 steps, bending lightly on the side towards the count ; 
 and all his movements w.ere marked with the greatest 
 solicitude. The judge retained his position until they 
 were lost to view by a turn in the gallery. Then he went 
 back to his place, heaving a deep sigh.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 243 
 
 " At least," said he, " I have helped to make one happy 
 person. The day will not be utterly wasted." 
 
 But he had no time to give way to such thoughts, the 
 hours flew by so quickly. He had to examine Albert as 
 soon as possible ; and he had still to receive the deposi- 
 tion of many of the servants of the Count de Com- 
 marin's house, and to receive the report of the com- 
 missary of police charged with the arrest. 
 
 The above-named domestics, who had waited their 
 turn a long while, were without delay brought in, one 
 after the other. 
 
 They had but little information to give; but there 
 were as many new charges as there were witnesses. It 
 was easy to see that all believed their master guilty. 
 
 Albert's conduct since the beginning of this fatal 
 week, his least words, his most insignificant movements, 
 were reported, commented upon, and explained. 
 
 The man who lives in the midst of thirty servants is 
 like an insect in a glass box under the magnifying glass 
 of a naturalist. No one of his acts escape attention; 
 scarcely can he have a secret ; and, if they cannot divine 
 what it is, they at least know he has one. From morn- 
 ing until night, he is the point of observation for thirty 
 pairs of eyes, interested in studying the slightest change 
 in his face. 
 
 The judge had, therefore, an abundance of frivolous 
 details; which at the time they occurred meant noth- 
 ing, but the most trifling of which seemed all at once to 
 the count to become a matter of life and death. 
 
 By combining these depositions, reconciling them, 
 and putting them in order, Daburon could follow his 
 prisoner hour by hour to his going out on Sunday morn- 
 ing. 
 
 On that Sunday morning, the viscount had given or-
 
 244 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ders that all visitors should be informed that he had 
 gone into the country. From that moment, the whole 
 household perceived that something had gone wrong, 
 and annoyed him. 
 
 He did not leave his study on that day, but had had 
 his dinner brought to him. He ate very little, only 
 some soup, and a bit of fish with white wines. While 
 eating, he had said to Monsieur Contois, the butler, 
 " Remind the cook to spice this sauce a little more, in 
 future," and then added in a low tone, " Ah ? to what 
 purpose ? " In the evening he dismissed the servants 
 from all duties, saying, " Go, and amuse yourselves." 
 He expressly warned them not to enter his room until 
 he rang. 
 
 On Monday, he did not rise until noon, although 
 usually an early riser. He complained of a violent head- 
 ache, and of weakness. He took, however, a cup of tea. 
 He ordered out his coupe but almost immediately coun- 
 termanded the order. His valet de chambre, Lubin, 
 heard him say, " It is too late to hesitate ; " and a few 
 moments after, " I must finish it." Shortly afterwards, 
 he began writing. 
 
 Lubin had been instructed to carry a letter to Made- 
 moiselle Claire d'Arlanges, with orders to deliver it to 
 herself or to Mademoiselle Smith, the governess only. 
 A second letter, with two checks of a thousand francs, 
 were intrusted to Joseph, to be carried to the club. Jo- 
 seph, no longer remembered the person to whom it 
 was addressed : but it was not a titled name. 
 
 That evening, Albert took only a little soup, and re- 
 mained shut up in his room. He was up early on Tues- 
 day. He walked up and down the house, like a soul in 
 pain, or like one who awaited with impatience something 
 which had not arrived. Upon his going into the gar-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 245 
 
 den, the gardener asked his advice concerning a lawn. 
 He replied, " You may consult the count upon his re- 
 turn." 
 
 He breakfasted precisely as on the day before. About 
 one o'clock, he went down to the stables, and, with an 
 air of sadness, he caressed his favorite mare, Norma. 
 Stroking her neck, he said, " Poor creature ! poor old 
 girl!" 
 
 At three o'clock, a messenger arrived with a letter. 
 The viscount took it, and opened it hastily. He was 
 then opposite the flower garden. Two footmen heard 
 him distinctly say, " She cannot resist." He entered the 
 house, and burned the letter in the large fire-place in 
 the entry. 
 
 As he was sitting down to dinner, at six o'clock, two 
 of his friends, Monsieur de Courtivois and the Marquis 
 of Chouze, insisted upon seeing him, in spite of all or- 
 ders. They would not be refused. These gentlemen 
 were anxious to carry him away to a party of pleasure ; 
 but he refused, saying that he had a very important ap- 
 pointment. 
 
 At dinner, he ate a little more than on the former 
 days. He asked the butler also for a bottle of Chateau 
 Lafitte, which he drank entirely. While taking his cof- 
 fee, he smoked a cigar in the dining-room, contrary to 
 the rules of the house. At half-past seven, according 
 to Joseph and the two footmen, or at eight according to 
 the porter and Lubin, the viscount went out on foot, tak- 
 ing with him an umbrella. He returned at two o'clock 
 in the morning, and dismissed at once his valet de cham- 
 bre, whose duty it was to remain up for him. 
 
 Wednesday, on entering the viscount's room, the 
 valet de chambre was struck with the condition in which 
 he found his master's clothing. It was wet, and stained
 
 246 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 with mud ; the pants were torn. He hazarded a remark 
 upon them. Albert replied, in a furious manner, 
 " Throw the old things in a corner, ready to be given 
 away." 
 
 He appeared to be much better that day. He break- 
 fasted with a good appetite; and the butler perceived 
 that he was in excellent spirits. He passed the after- 
 noon in the library, and burned a pile of papers. 
 
 Thursday, he seemed again to suffer much. He 
 seemed to regret not being able to see the count. That 
 evening, after his interview with his father, he went 
 to his room in a pitiable condition. Lubin wanted to go 
 for the doctor : he would not allow it, saying, at the 
 same time, there was nothing the matter with him. 
 
 Such was the substance of twenty large pages, which 
 the long clerk had written without once turning his head 
 to look at the witnesses who passed by in their fine liv- 
 ery. 
 
 This testimony Daburon managed to obtain inside of 
 two hours. Being well aware of the importance of their 
 testimony, all these servants were very voluble. The 
 difficulty was, to stop them when they were once started. 
 And yet, from all they said, it appeared that Albert was 
 a very good master, easily served, kind and polite to 
 his servants. Wonderful to relate! there were found 
 only three among them all who did not appear perfectly 
 delighted at the misfortune which had befallen the fam- 
 ily. Two were seriously distressed. Lubin, although 
 he had been an object of especial kindness, was not one 
 of these last. 
 
 The turn of the commissary of police had now come. 
 In a few words, he gave an account of the arrest, al- 
 ready described by Pere Tabaret. He did not forget to 
 mark the one word " Lost," which had escaped Albert;
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 247 
 
 to his mind, it was a confession. He then delivered all 
 the articles seized in the Viscount de Commarin's room. 
 
 The judge of inquiry examined carefully all these 
 articles, and compared them closely with the scraps of 
 evidence gathered at Jonchere. He appeared now, 
 more than ever, satisfied with his course. 
 
 He personally placed all the material proofs upon the 
 table, and, to hide them, threw over them three or four 
 of those large sheets of paper, which are used by shirt- 
 makers for covers. 
 
 The day was far advanced; and Daburon had no 
 more than sufficient time to examine the prisoner before 
 night. Why should he hesitate now? He had in his 
 hands more proofs than would suffice to summon ten 
 men before the court of assize, and send them from 
 thence to Roquette. He was fighting with arms so im- 
 measurably superior, that, unless through some error 
 of his own, Albert would scarcely dream of defending 
 himself; and yet, at this moment of so much solemnity 
 . to himself, he seemed to falter. Was his will enfeebled ? 
 Would he abandon his resolution ? 
 
 He now, for the first time, remembered that he had 
 tasted nothing since morning ; and he sent hastily for a 
 bottle of wine, and some biscuits. It was not strength, 
 however, that the judge needed; it was courage. All 
 the time that he was drinking, his thoughts would keep 
 repeating this strange sentence, " I am going to appear 
 before the Viscount de Commarin." At any other mo- 
 ment, he would have laughed at this flight of his 
 thoughts; but, at this moment, he seemed to see the 
 will of Providence. 
 
 " So be it," said he ; " this is my punishment." 
 
 And immediately he gave the necessary orders for the 
 Viscount Albert to be brought before him.
 
 248 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THERE was little difference in Albert's state of mind 
 at home and in the seclusion of the prison. 
 
 Snatched away from those painful dreams by the rude 
 voice of the commissary, saying, " In the name of the 
 law I arrest you," his spirit, completely overcome, was 
 a long time in recovering its equilibrium. Every thing 
 that followed his arrest appeared to float indistinctly in 
 a thick mist, like the fairy scenes at the theatre behind 
 a quadruple gauze curtain. 
 
 To their questions he replied, without hearing him- 
 self speak. Two agents took his arms, and helped him 
 down the stairs from the house. He could not have 
 walked down alone. His limbs, which bent beneath 
 him, could not have borne him. One thing alone 
 he heard, a servant saying that the count had been 
 struck with apoplexy; but even that he soon for- 
 got. 
 
 They raised him into the coach, which stood in the 
 court, at the foot of the steps, rather ashamed of rind- 
 ing itself in such a place ; and they placed him upon the 
 back seat. Two agents took their seats in front of him ; 
 while a third mounted the box by the side of the driver. 
 During the drive, he did not at all realize his situation. 
 He lay in the dirty, greasy carriage motionless. His 
 body, which followed every jolt of the carriage, wofully 
 in need of springs, rolled from one side to the other; 
 and his head fell to and fro on his shoulders, as if the 
 muscles of his neck were broken. He thought of the 
 Widow Lerouge. He recalled her as she was when he 
 went with his father to Jonchere. It was in the spring ; 
 and the May-flowers sweetened the way. The old wo-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 249 
 
 man, in a white head-dress, stood at her garden gate: 
 she spoke with a suppliant air. The count listened to 
 her with a stern glance ; then, taking some money from 
 his pocket-book, he gave it to her. 
 
 On reaching the jail, they got out of the carriage as 
 they had entered it. 
 
 During the formalities of the jail-book, in the dark, 
 offensive record office, replying mechanically to every 
 thing, he gave himself up with delight to recollections 
 of Claire. He went back to the time of their first love, 
 when he doubted whether he should ever have the hap- 
 piness of being loved by her in return, and to Madame 
 Goello's house, where they had first exchanged their 
 vows. 
 
 This old lady had a certain celebrated lover's retreat, 
 upon the left bank of the Seine, of the most peculiar de- 
 scription. Upon all the furniture, and even upon the 
 mantel, were placed a dozen or fifteen stuffed dogs, of 
 various kinds, which together or successively had helped 
 to cheer the old maid's lonely hours. She loved to re- 
 late the stories of these pets, whose affections had never 
 failed her. They were, too, such grotesque, horrible 
 things. One especially, outrageously stuffed, seemed 
 ready to burst. How many times he had laughed at it 
 with Claire until the tears came ! 
 
 They began searching him then. This crowning hu- 
 miliation, when rough hands passed all over his body, 
 brought him somewhat to himself, and roused his an- 
 ger. But it was soon finished; and they took him 
 through the dark corridors, whose pavements were filthy 
 and slippery. They opened a door, and pushed him 
 into a sort of little cell. He heard behind him the sound 
 of clashing bolts, and creaking locks. 
 
 He was a prisoner, and, in accordance with special
 
 250 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 orders, in solitary confinement. Immediately he felt a 
 marked sensation of comfort. He was alone. 
 
 No more stifled whispers, harsh voices, dreadful ques- 
 tions, filled his ears. A profound silence, giving the 
 idea of nothingness, formed about him. It seemed to 
 him that he had never before escaped from society ; and 
 he rejoiced at it. He would have felt relieved, had this 
 even been a tomb. His body, as well as his mind, was 
 weighed down with weariness. He was going to sit 
 down, when he perceived a mean couch, at the right, 
 in front of the grated window, which let in the little 
 light there was. This bed gave him as much pleasure as 
 a plank would a drowning man. He threw himself upon 
 it, and stretched himself with delight ; but he felt chilled. 
 He found a coarse woolen coverlid, and, wrapping it 
 about him, was soon sound asleep. 
 
 In the corridor, two agents of the safety police, one 
 still young, the other already gray, applied alternately 
 their eyes and ears to the peep-hole in the door. 
 
 " What a fellow he is ! " murmured the younger of- 
 ficer. " If a man has no more nerve than that, he ought 
 to be pretty honest. He will be wild the morning of his 
 execution, eh, Balan ? " 
 
 " That depends," replied the other. " We must wait 
 and see. Lecoq told me that he was a terrible rascal." 
 
 " Ah ! see how the fellow arranges his bed, and lies 
 down. Can he be going to sleep ? That's good ! It's 
 the first time I ever saw such a thing." 
 
 " It's because, comrade, that you have only had deal- 
 ings with the smaller rogues. All great rascals and I 
 have had to do with more than one are of this sort. At 
 the moment of arrest, good-night every one ; their heart 
 fails them : but they recover themselves next day."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 251 
 
 " Upon my word, if he hasn't gone to sleep ! What 
 a joke!" 
 
 " I tell you, my friend," added the old man, point- 
 edly, " that nothing is more natural. I am sure that, 
 since the blow was struck, this young fellow has hardly 
 lived: his body has been all on fire. Now he knows 
 that his secret is out; and that quiets him." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! you are joking : you say that that quiets 
 him?" 
 
 " Certainly. There is no greater punishment, remem- 
 ber, than anxiety ; any thing is preferable. If you have 
 only got ten thousand livrcs income, I will show you a 
 way to prove this. Go to Hamburg and risk your entire 
 fortune on one chance at rouge et noir. Tell me, after- 
 wards, what your feelings were while the ball was roll- 
 ing. It is, observe, as though they were tearing your 
 brain with pincers, as if they were pouring molten lead 
 into your bones, instead of marrow. This dread of de- 
 tection is so strong, that, when every thing is lost, they 
 are content ; they feel relieved ; they breathe again ; they 
 say to themselves, ' Ah, it is finished at last.' They are 
 ruined, demolished, overthrown ; but it is ended." 
 
 " Truly, Balan, one would think that you yourself 
 had had just such an experience." 
 
 " Alas ! " sighed the officer, " it is to my love for the 
 queen of spades, my unhappy love, that you owe the 
 honor of looking through this peep-hole in my company. 
 But this fellow has two hours for his nap ; do not lose 
 sight of him: I am going to smoke a cigarette in the 
 court." 
 
 Albert slept four hours. On awaking, his head 
 seemed clearer than it had been any time since his in- 
 terview with Noel. It was a terrible moment for him,
 
 252 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 when, for the first time, he looked his situation calmly 
 in the face. 
 
 " By this time," said he, " he has taken measures to 
 prevent his being ousted." 
 
 He longed to see some one, to speak, to have 
 questions asked, to explain. He felt a desire to cry 
 out. 
 
 " But what good would it do," he said to himself, 
 " even if they came ? " 
 
 He looked for his watch, to see what time it was, and 
 found that they had taken it away. This moved him 
 deeply : they were treating him like the most abandoned 
 of villains. He felt in his pockets: they had all been 
 carefully emptied. He thought now of his appearance ; 
 and, throwing himself upon the couch, he repaired as 
 much as possible the disorder of his toilet. He put his 
 clothes in order, and dusted them ; he straightened his 
 collar, and re-tied his cravat. Turning, then, a little 
 water on his handkerchief, he passed it over his face, 
 rubbing his eyes, the lids of which were smarting. Then 
 he endeavored to smooth his beard and hair. He had no 
 idea that four lynx eyes were fixed upon him all the 
 time. 
 
 " Good ! " murmured the young officer : " see how our 
 cock raises his crest and smooths his feathers ! " 
 
 " I tell you," put in Balan, " he is simply benumbed. 
 Hush ! he is speaking, I believe." 
 
 But they neither surprised one of those disordered 
 gestures nor one of those incoherent speeches, which 
 almost always escape from the feeble when excited by 
 fears, or from the independent who believe their secrets 
 secure. One word alone, " honor," reached the ears of 
 the two spies. 
 
 " These rascals of rank," grumbled Balan, " always
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 253 
 
 have this word in their mouths. That which they most 
 fear is the opinion of some dozen friends, and several 
 thousand strangers, who read the ' Journal des Tribu- 
 naux.' They care nothing about their own heads." 
 
 When the gendarmes came to conduct Albert to the 
 examination, they found him seated on the side of his 
 bed, his feet pressed against the iron bar, his elbows 
 on his knees, and his head buried in his hands. He rose, 
 as they entered, and took a few steps towards them; 
 but his throat was so dry that he was scarcely able to 
 speak. He asked for a few moments' rest; and, turn- 
 ing towards the little table, he filled and drank two large 
 glasses of water in succession. 
 
 " I am ready," he then said. 
 
 And, with a firm step, he followed the gendarmes 
 along the passage which led to the court. 
 
 Daburon was now in anguish. He walked furiously 
 up and down his office, awaiting his prisoner. Again, 
 and for the twentieth time since morning, he regretted 
 his having engaged in the business. 
 
 " Curse on this absurd point of honor, which I have 
 obeyed," he exclaimed. " I have attempted to reassure 
 myself by the aid of sophisms. I have done wrong in 
 not withdrawing. Nothing in the world can change my 
 feelings against the young man. I hate him. I am his 
 judge; and it is no less true, that I have longed 
 to assassinate him. I once aimed at him with my re- 
 volver. Why did I not pull the trigger? Do I know 
 why ? What power held my finger, when an almost in- 
 sensible pressure would have sufficed to strike the blow ? 
 I cannot say. Why is not he the judge, and I the assas- 
 sin ? If the intention was as punishable as the deed, my 
 neck would suffer. And is it under such conditions that 
 I dare examine him ? "
 
 254 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Passing before the door, he heard the heavy step of 
 the gendarmes in the gallery. 
 
 " It is he," he said aloud ; and then hastily took a seat 
 behind the table, bending into the shade of the portfolio, 
 as though striving to hide himself. If the long clerk 
 had had eyes, he would have noticed the singular spec- 
 tacle of a judge, more anxious than the prisoner. But 
 he was blind to it ; and, at this moment, he saw only an 
 error of fifteen centimes, which had slipped into his ac- 
 counts, and which he was unable to rectify. 
 
 Albert entered the judge's office erect. His features 
 bore traces of great fatigue and of long wakefulness. 
 He was very pale ; but his eyes were clear and sparkling. 
 
 The usual questions which open such examinations 
 gave Daburon time to recover himself. Fortunately he 
 had found time in the morning to prepare a plan, which 
 he had now simply to follow. 
 
 " You are not ignorant, monsieur," he commenced 
 in a tone of perfect politeness, " that you have no right 
 to the name you bear ? " 
 
 " I know, monsieur," replied Albert, " that I am the 
 natural son of Monsieur de Commarin. I know further 
 that my father would be unable to recognize me, if he 
 wished; since I was born during his marriage." 
 
 " What were your feelings upon learning this ? " 
 
 " I should speak falsely, monsieur, if I said I did not 
 feel very bitterly. When one is in the high position I 
 occupied, the fall is terrible. However, I have never for 
 a moment thought of contesting Noel Gerdy's rights. I 
 have always purposed, and still purpose, to yield. I 
 have so informed M. de Commarin." 
 
 Daburon listened to this reply ; and it only strength- 
 ened his suspicions. Did it not enter into the line of de- 
 fence which the prisoner had marked out for himself?
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 255 
 
 It was his duty now to seek some way of breaking up 
 this defence, in which the prisoner meant to shut him- 
 self up as in a shell. 
 
 " You could only oppose," continued the judge, " a 
 plea of non recevoir to Monsieur Gerdy. You had, 
 indeed, on your side, the count, and your mother ; but 
 Gerdy had, on his side, testimony which it would have 
 been necessary to suppress, that of the Widow Le- 
 rouge." 
 
 " I have never denied it, monsieur." 
 
 " Now/' continued the judge, seeking to hide the look 
 which he fastened upon Albert, " Justice supposes that, 
 to do away with the only existing proofs, you have as- 
 sassinated the Widow Lerouge ! " 
 
 This terrible accusation, terribly emphasized, caused 
 no change in Albert's features. He kept the same firm 
 bearing, without braggadocio. Not a wrinkle appeared 
 on his face. 
 
 " Before God," he answered, " and by all that is most 
 sacred on earth, I swear to you, monsieur, that I am 
 innocent ! I have been to this moment a close prisoner, 
 without communication with the outer world, reduced 
 consequently to the most absolute helplessness. It is 
 through your probity that I hope to demonstrate my in- 
 nocence." 
 
 " What an actor ! " thought the judge. " Can crime 
 give such force ? " 
 
 He ran over the papers, reading certain passages of 
 the preceding depositions, turning down the corners of 
 certain pages which contained important information's 
 Then suddenly he continued, 
 
 " When you were arrested, you cried out, ' I am lost ; ' 
 what did you mean by that ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," replied Albert, " I remember having ut-
 
 256 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 tered those words. When I knew of what crime they 
 accused me, I was overwhelmed with consternation. 
 My spirit was, as it were, illuminated by a glimpse of 
 futurity. In less than a moment, I perceived all the hor- 
 rors of my situation. I saw the weight of the accusa- 
 tion, its probability, and the difficulties I should have 
 in defending myself. A voice cried out to me, ' Wtio, 
 then, is most interested in Claudine's death ? ' And the 
 knowledge of my imminent peril forced from me the 
 exclamation you speak of." 
 
 His explanation w.as more than plausible, was pos- 
 sible, and even probable. It had the advantage, too, of 
 anticipating the axiom, 
 
 Search out the one whom the crime will benefit! 
 Tabaret had spoken truly, when he said that they had 
 not taken an unskilful prisoner. 
 
 Daburon admired Albert's presence of mind, and the 
 resources of his perverse imagination. 
 
 " You do, indeed," continued the judge, " appear to 
 have had the most serious interest in this death. You 
 see we are very sure that robbery was not the object 
 of the crime. The things thrown into the Seine have 
 been recovered. We know, also, that all the papers were 
 burnt. Could they compromise any one but yourself? 
 If you know of any one, speak." 
 
 " What can I answer, monsieur ? Nothing." 
 
 " Have you gone often to this woman's house ? " 
 
 " Three or four times, w.ith my father." 
 
 " One of your coachmen pretends to have driven you 
 there at least ten times." 
 
 " The man is mistaken. But what matters the num- 
 ber of visits ? " 
 
 " Do you recollect the arrangement of the rooms ? 
 Can you describe them ? "
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 257 
 
 " Perfectly, monsieur : there were two. Claudine 
 slept in the back room." 
 
 " It is understood that you were not unknown to the 
 Widow Lerouge. If you had knocked some evening 
 at her door, do you think she would have opened it for 
 you?" 
 
 " Certainly, monsieur, and eagerly." 
 
 " You have been unwell these last few days ? " 
 
 " Very unwell ; yes, monsieur, my body bent under 
 the weight of a burden too great for my strength. I 
 have not, however, lost my courage." 
 
 " Why did you forbid your valet de chambre, Lubin, 
 to call the doctor ? " 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, how could the doctor reach my dis- 
 ease? All his science could not make me the legitimate 
 son of the Count de Commarin." 
 
 " Singular remarks made by you were overheard. 
 You seemed to be no longer interested in any thing 
 about the house. You destroyed papers and letters." 
 
 " I had decided to leave the house, monsieur. My 
 resolution explains all that." 
 
 To the judge's questions, Albert replied promptly, 
 without the least embarrassment, and in a confident tone. 
 His voice, of a sympathetic calibre, did not tremble. It 
 concealed no emotion ; it retained its pure and vibrat- 
 ing sound. 
 
 Daburon believed it wise to suspend the examination. 
 With an adversary of this strength, he was evidently 
 pursuing a false course. To proceed in detail was folly ; 
 they neither intimidated him nor made him break 
 through his reserve. 
 
 " Monsieur," said the judge abruptly, " tell me ex- 
 actly, I beseech you, how you passed your time last 
 Tuesday evening, from six o'clock until midnight ? "
 
 258 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 For the first time, Albert seemed disconcerted. His 
 eyes, which had, up to this time, been fixed upon the 
 judge, wandered. 
 
 " During Tuesday evening," he stammered, repeat- 
 ing the phrase to gain time. 
 
 " I have hit it," thought the judge, starting with joy, 
 and then added aloud, " yes, from six o'clock until mid- 
 night." 
 
 " I am afraid, monsieur," answered Albert, " it will 
 be difficult for me to satisfy you. I haven't a very good 
 memory." 
 
 " Oh, don't tell me that ! " interrupted the judge. " If 
 I had asked what you were doing three months ago, on 
 a certain evening, and at a certain hour, I could ac- 
 count for your hesitation; but this is about Tuesday, 
 and it is now Friday. Moreover, this day, so close, was 
 vhe last of the carnival ; it was Shrove Tuesday. That 
 circumstance ought to help your memory." 
 
 " That evening, I was walking," murmured Albert. 
 
 " Now," continued the judge, " where did you dine? " 
 
 " At home, as usual." 
 
 " No, not as usual. At the end of your meal, you 
 asked for a bottle of Bourdeaux, which you emptied. 
 You doubtless had need of some extra excitement for 
 your subsequent plans." 
 
 " I had no plans," replied the prisoner with a very 
 evident uneasiness. 
 
 " You deceive yourself. Two friends came to seek 
 you. You replied to them, before sitting down to din- 
 ner, that you had a very important engagement." 
 
 " That was only a polite way of getting rid of them." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Can you not understand, monsieur ? I was resigned, 
 but not comforted. I was learning to get accustomed
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 259 
 
 to the terrible blow. Does not one seek solitude in the 
 great crises of one's life ? " 
 
 " The prosecution supposes that you wished to be left 
 alone, that you might go to Jonchere. During the day, 
 you said, ' She cannot resist me.' Of whom were you 
 speaking? " 
 
 " Of some one to whom I had written the evening 
 before, and who had replied to me. I spoke the words, 
 with her letter still in my hands." 
 
 " This letter was, then, from a woman?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What have you done with it ? " 
 
 " I burned it." 
 
 " This precaution would seem to imply that you con- 
 sidered it as compromising." 
 
 " Not at all, monsieur ; it treated entirely of private 
 matters." 
 
 Daburon was sure that this letter came from Mad- 
 emoiselle d'Arlanges. Should he nevertheless ask it, 
 and compel himself to again pronounce this name of 
 Claire, so terrible to him ? He ventured to do so, hiding 
 his face behind a paper, so that the prisoner did not de- 
 tect his emotion. 
 
 " From whom did this letter come ? " he asked. 
 
 " From one whom I cannot name." 
 
 " Monsieur," said the judge, addressing him severely, 
 " I will not conceal from you that your position is very 
 dangerous. Do not aggravate it by this culpable reti- 
 cence. You are here to tell every thing, monsieur." 
 
 " My affairs alone, not those of others." 
 
 Albert gave this last answer in a dry tone. He was 
 giddy, flurried, exasperated, by the prying and irritating 
 mode of the examination, which gave him no time to 
 breathe. The judge's questions fell upon him more
 
 2<5o THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 thickly than the blows of the blacksmith's hammer upon 
 the red hot iron which he is anxious to form before it 
 cools. 
 
 The apparent rebellion of his prisoner troubled Da- 
 buron seriously. He was further extremely surprised 
 to find the discernment of the old detective at fault ; just 
 as though Tabaret were infallible. Tabaret had pre- 
 dicted an unexceptionable alibi; and this alibi was not 
 forthcoming. Why ? Had this subtle villain something 
 better than that? What ruse had he at the bottom of 
 his bag? Doubtless he kept in reserve some unforeseen 
 stroke, perhaps irresistible. 
 
 " Gently," thought the judge. " I have not got him 
 yet." Then he quickly said aloud, 
 
 " Go on. After dinner, what did you do ? " 
 
 " I went out for a walk." 
 
 " Not immediately. The bottle drank, you smoked 
 in the dining room, which was so unusual as to be no- 
 ticed. What kind of cigars do you usually smoke ? " 
 
 " Trabucos." 
 
 " Do you not use a cigar-holder, to keep your lips from 
 contact with the tobacco ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur," replied Albert, much surprised at 
 this series of questions. 
 
 " What time did you go out ? " 
 
 " About eight o'clock." 
 
 " Did you carry an umbrella ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Where did you go?" 
 
 " I walked about the streets." 
 
 " Alone, without an object, all the evening? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur." 
 
 " Now trace out your wanderings for me exactly." 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, that is very difficult for me ! I went
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 261. 
 
 out simply to walk, to obtain exercise, to drive away the 
 torpor which had depressed me for three days. I don't 
 know whether you can picture to yourself my exact con- 
 dition. I had lost my head. I moved about at hazard 
 along the quays. I- wandered through the streets, " 
 
 " All that is very improbable," interrupted the judge. 
 Daburon, however, knew that it was possible. Had not 
 he himself one night in a race of folly traversed all 
 Paris? What reply could he have made, if some one 
 had asked him next morning where he had gone, ex- 
 cept that he had not paid attention, and did not know? 
 But he had forgotten this ; and his anguish, too, had 
 much less reason for it than Albert's. 
 
 The inquiry commenced, he had caught the fever of 
 investigation. He renewed his desire for the struggle, 
 his passion for his calling. 
 
 He became again a judge of inquiry, like the fencing 
 master, who, practicing with his dearest friend, elated 
 by the clash of weapons, becomes excited, forgets him- 
 self, and kills him. 
 
 " So," continued Daburon, " you met absolutely no 
 one who could affirm that he saw you? You did not 
 speak to a living soul? You went in nowhere, not 
 even into a cafe or a theatre ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur." 
 
 " Well, monsieur, it is a great misfortune for you, 
 a very great misfortune ; for I must inform you, that it 
 was precisely during this Tuesday evening, between 
 eight o'clock and midnight, that the Widow. Lerouge 
 was assassinated. Justice can point to the exact hour. 
 Again, monsieur, in your interests, I entreat you to re- 
 flect, to make a strong appeal to your memory." 
 
 This pointing out of the exact day and hour of the 
 murder stunned Albert. He carried his hand to his
 
 262 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 forehead with a despairing gesture. But he replied in a 
 calm voice, 
 
 " I am very unfortunate, monsieur ; but I have no ex- 
 planation to make." 
 
 Daburon's surprise was profound. What, not an 
 alibi? Nothing? This could be no snare nor system of 
 defence. Was, then, this man as strong as he had imag- 
 ined? Doubtless; but he had been taken unaware, 
 caught unprovided. He had never imagined that it was 
 possible for the accusation to fall upon him ; it could 
 only do so by a miracle. 
 
 The judge raised slowly, and one by one, the large 
 pieces of paper that covered the convicting articles 
 seized in Albert's room. 
 
 " We will pass on," he continued, " to the examina- 
 tion of the charges which weigh against you. Will you 
 please come nearer ? Do you recognize these articles as 
 belonging to yourself ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, they are all mine." 
 
 " Well, take this foil. Who broke it? " 
 
 " I, monsieur, in fencing with M. Courtivois, who 
 can bear witness to it." 
 
 " That will be inquired into. Where is the broken 
 end?" 
 
 " I do not know. Upon that point, you must ask my 
 valet de chambre, Lubin." 
 
 " Exactly. He declares that he has hunted for it, 
 and cannot find it. I must tell you that the victim re- 
 ceived the fatal blow with the end of a foil, broken and 
 sharpened. This piece of stuff, on which the assassin 
 wiped his weapon, proves it." 
 
 " I beseech you, monsieur, to order a most minute 
 search for this. It is impossible that the other half of 
 the foil is not to be found."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 263 
 
 " Orders have been given to that effect. See here, 
 traced out on this paper the exact imprint of the mur- 
 derer's foot. I have applied it to the sole of one of your 
 boots ; it, at once, you perceive, adapts itself with the 
 utmost precision. This piece of plaster has been poured 
 into the hollow, left by your heel : you observe that it is, 
 in all respects, your own heel. I perceive, too, the mark 
 of a peg, which is also here." 
 
 Albert followed with marked anxiety the judge's 
 every movement. It was plain that he was struggling 
 against a growing terror. Was he attacked by that 
 panic which stupefies criminals when they are on the 
 point of being convicted ? To all remarks of the magis- 
 trate, he replied in a dull voice, 
 
 " It is true, perfectly true." 
 
 " Wait," continued Daburon ; " listen further, before 
 crying out. The criminal had an umbrella. The end 
 of this umbrella sank in the mud ; the round of wood- 
 work, which ends the cloth, was found moulded in the 
 hollow. Here is this clod of mud, raised with the ut- 
 most care; and here is your umbrella. Compare the 
 rounds. Are they alike, or not ? " 
 
 " These things, monsieur," attempted Albert, " are 
 wonderful coincidences." 
 
 " Well, that remains to be proved ; look at the end 
 of this cigar, found at the scene of the crime, and tell 
 of what brand it is, and how it was smoked." 
 
 " It is a trabuco, and was smoked with a cigar- 
 holder." 
 
 " Like these, eh ? " persisted the judge, showing the 
 cigars and holders of amber and meerschaum, taken 
 from the library mantel. 
 
 " Ah ! " murmured Albert, " it is a fatality, a won- 
 derful coincidence."
 
 264 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Patience ; that is nothing, as yet. The assassin of 
 the Widow Lerouge wore gloves. The victim, in the 
 convulsions of agony, seized the murderer's hands ; and 
 these fragments of skin remained in her nails. These 
 were preserved, and are here. They are of pearl gray, 
 are they not ? Now, here are the gloves which you wore 
 on Tuesday. They are gray, and they are frayed. Com- 
 pare these particles with your own gloves. Do they not 
 correspond? Are they not of the same color, the same 
 skin?" 
 
 He could neither deny it, equivocate, nor find sub- 
 terfuges. The evidence was there before his eyes. The 
 brutal deed shone forth. While appearing to occupy 
 himself solely with the objects lying upon his table, Da- 
 buron never lost sight of his prisoner. Albert was ter- 
 rified. A cold perspiration bathed his face, and glided 
 drop by drop down his cheeks. His hands trembled so 
 much that they were of no use to him. With a choking 
 voice he repeated, 
 
 " It is horrible, horrible ! " 
 
 " Finally," pursued the inexorable judge, " here are 
 the pantaloons you wore on the evening of the murder. 
 It is plain that they have been wet ; and, besides the mud, 
 there are traces of dirt. Observe, too, they are torn on 
 the knees. We will admit, for the sake of argument, 
 that you might not remember where you went on that 
 evening; but who could believe that you do not know 
 where you tore your pantaloons and frayed your 
 gloves ? " 
 
 What courage could resist such assaults? Albert's 
 firmness and energy were at an end. His brain whirled. 
 He fell heavily into a chair, exclaiming, 
 
 "I shall go mad!" 
 
 " You see," insisted the judge, whose gaze had be-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 265 
 
 come unbearably fixed upon him, " you see that the 
 Widow Lerouge could only have been stabbed by you." 
 I see," protested Albert, " that I am a victim of one 
 of those terrible fatalities which makes men doubt the 
 evidence of their reason. I am innocent." 
 
 " Then tell me where you passed Tuesday evening." 
 
 " Ah, monsieur ! " cried the prisoner, " I must, " 
 But, restraining himself, he added in a dull voice, " I 
 have made the only answer that I can make." 
 
 Daburon arose, having now reached his final grand 
 stroke. 
 
 " It is, then, my duty," said he, with a shade of irony, 
 " to supply your failure of memory. I am going to re- 
 count to you what you did. On Tuesday evening, at 
 eight o'clock, after having received from wine a dread- 
 ful energy, you left your home. At thirty-five minutes 
 past eight, you took the cars at St. Lazare station. At 
 nine o'clock, you got out at Rueil station." 
 
 And, adopting without shame, the ideas of Pere 
 Tabaret, the judge of inquiry repeated nearly word for 
 word the tirade improvised the night before by his ama- 
 teur agent of police. 
 
 He had every reason, while speaking, to admire the 
 penetration of the old detective. In all his life, his elo- 
 quence had never produced so striking an effect. Every 
 sentence, every word, carried weight. The assurance 
 of the prisoner, already shaken, fell piece by piece, just 
 as the walls of a town give way when riddled with balls. 
 
 Albert was, as the judge perceived, like a man, who, 
 rolling to the bottom of a precipice, sees all the points 
 which might retard his fall fail him, and who feels a 
 new and more painful bruise at each projecture, against 
 which his body strikes. 
 
 " And now," concluded the judge of inquiry, " listen
 
 266 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 to good advice : do not persist in this mode of denying, 
 impossible to sustain. Change your mind. Justice, be 
 assured, is ignorant of nothing which it is important to 
 know. Believe me; seek the indulgence of the courts: 
 confess your guilt." 
 
 Daburon did not believe that his prisoner would again 
 refuse. He pictured him overwhelmed, confounded, 
 throwing himself at his feet, asking for mercy. But 
 he was deceived. 
 
 However great appeared Albert's prostration, he 
 found in one last effort of his will sufficient strength to 
 recover himself and again protest, 
 
 ' You are right, monsieur," he said in a sad, but firm 
 voice ; " every thing seems to prove the criminal. In 
 your place, I should have spoken as you have done ; and 
 yet I sw.ear to you that I am innocent." 
 
 " Upon my word," began the judge. 
 
 " I am innocent," interrupted Albert ; " and I repeat 
 it, without the least hope of changing in any way your 
 conviction. Yes, every thing speaks against me, every 
 thing, even my own bearing before you. It is true, my 
 courage has been shaken by these incredible, miraculous, 
 overwhelming coincidences. I am overcome, because I 
 feel the impossibility of establishing my innocence. But 
 I do not despair. My honor and my life are in the hands 
 of God. At the same time that I appear to you lost, 
 for I do not deceive myself, monsieur, I do not despair 
 of a complete justification. I await it confidently." 
 
 " What have you to say? " interrupted the judge. 
 
 " Nothing but what I have already said, monsieur." 
 
 " So you persist in denying your guilt ? " 
 
 " I am innocent." 
 
 " But this is folly" 
 
 " I am innocent."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 267 
 
 " Very well," said Daburon ; " that is enough for to- 
 day. You shall hear the reading of the official report, 
 and will then be taken back to your prison. I exhort 
 you to reflect. Night will perhaps bring on a better 
 feeling; if you wish at any time to speak to me, send 
 word and I will come to you. I will give orders to that 
 effect. You may read now, Constant." 
 
 When Albert departed with the gendarmes, the judge 
 muttered in a low tone, " There's an obstinate fellow for 
 you." He certainly had not a shadow of doubt. To 
 him, Albert was as surely the murderer as if he heard 
 him confess it. Even if he should persist in his purpose 
 of denial to the end of the investigation, it would be im- 
 possible, that, with the proofs already in existence, a 
 verdict of " Not guilty " should be rendered. It was 
 a hundred to one, that to all the questions the jury 
 would reply in the affirmative. 
 
 However, left to himself, Daburon did not experience 
 that intense satisfaction, mixed with vanity, which is 
 ordinarily felt after one has successfully conducted an 
 examination, when he has succeeded in getting his pris- 
 oner into Albert's state. Something disturbed him and 
 shocked him. At the bottom of his heart, he felt ill at 
 ease. He had triumphed ; but his victory gave him only 
 uneasiness, pain, and vexation. A reflection so simple 
 that he could hardly understand why it had not occurred 
 to him before increased his discontent, and made him 
 angry with himself. 
 
 " Something told me," he muttered, " that I was 
 wrong to undertake this business. I am punished for 
 not having obeyed this inner voice. I must excuse my- 
 self from going on with it. This Viscount de Com- 
 marin has been arrested, imprisoned, examined, over- 
 powered: he will certainly be convicted, and probably
 
 268 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 condemned. Had I been a stranger to the trial, I could 
 have appeared in Claire's presence. Her grief would 
 have been great. As her friend, I could have soothed 
 her, mingled my tears with hers, calmed her regrets. 
 With time, she might have been consoled, perhaps 
 have forgotten him. She might, perhaps, then have re- 
 warded me; who knows? While now, whatever may 
 happen, I shall be an object of terror to her; she will 
 never be able to endure the sight of me. I shall always 
 in her eyes be the assassin of her lover. I have with 
 my own hands formed between her and myself an abyss 
 which centuries can never fill, by my own great fault." 
 
 The unhappy judge heaped the bitterest reproaches' 
 upon himself. He was in despair. He had never so 
 hated Albert, this wretched man, who, stained with a 
 crime, stood in the way of his happiness. Then how he 
 cursed Pere Tabaret ! Alone, he should not have de- 
 cided so quickly. He would have thought over it, ma- 
 tured his decision, and certainly recollected the incon- 
 veniences, which now occurred to him. This man, like 
 a badly trained bloodhound, urged on and carried away 
 by his stupid passion, had become confused. 
 
 It was precisely this unfavorable moment that Taba- 
 ret chose for making his appearance before the judge. 
 He had been informed of the termination of the inquiry ; 
 and he arrived, impatient to know what had passed, 
 swelling with curiosity, his nose in air, distended with 
 the sweet hope of hearing of the fulfilment of his predic- 
 tions. 
 
 " What answer did he make? " he asked almost before 
 he had opened the door. 
 
 " He is evidently the criminal," replied the judge, 
 with a harshness very different from his usual manner. 
 
 Pere Tabaret, who had expected to receive praises
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 269 
 
 by the basketful, was surprised at this tone! It was, 
 therefore, with great hesitancy that he offered his fur- 
 ther services. 
 
 " I have come," he said modestly, " to know if any 
 investigations are necessary to demolish the alibi offered 
 by the prisoner." 
 
 " He gave no alibi," replied the magistrate dryly. 
 
 " How," cried the old detective, " no alibi? Pshaw ! 
 T ask pardon: he has of course then confessed every 
 thing." 
 
 " No," said the judge impatiently, " he has confessed 
 nothing. He acknowledges that the proofs are decisive : 
 he cannot give an account of how he spent his time ; but 
 he protests his innocence." 
 
 In the centre of the office, Tabaret, his mouth wide 
 open, his eyes starting wildly, stood in the most gro- 
 tesque attitude his astonishment could effect. He was 
 literally thunderstruck. 
 
 In spite of his anger, Daburon could not help smil- 
 ing; and even Constant gave a grin, which on his lips 
 was equivalent to a paroxysm of laughter. 
 
 " Not an alibi, nothing? " murmured the old fellow. 
 " No explanations ? The idea ! It is inconceivable. Not 
 an alibi? We must be mistaken : he is certainly not the 
 criminal. It cannot be at all ! " 
 
 The judge of inquiry felt that the old amateur must 
 have been waiting the result of the examination at the 
 wine shop around the corner, or else that he had gone 
 mad. 
 
 " Unfortunately," said he, " we are not mistaken. It 
 is too clearly shown that Monsieur de Commarin is the 
 murderer. But, if you like, ask Constant for his report 
 of the examination, and run it over while I put these 
 papers in order."
 
 270 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Very well," said the old fellow with feverish anxiety. 
 
 He sat down in Constant's chair, and, leaning his 
 elbows on the table, burying his hands in his hair, in less 
 than no time read through the report. When he had 
 finished, he arose wild, pale, his face distorted. 
 
 " Monsieur," said he to the judge in a strange voice, 
 " I have been the involuntary cause of a terrible mistake. 
 This man is innocent." 
 
 " Come, come," said Daburon without stopping his 
 preparations for departure, " you are losing your head, 
 my dear Tabaret. How, after all that you have read 
 there, can ?" 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, yes ; it is because I have read this 
 that I entreat you to pause, or we shall add one more 
 to the sad list of judicial errors. Read this examination 
 over carefully ; there is not a reply which does not de- 
 clare this unfortunate man innocent, not one word 
 which does not throw out a ray of light. And he is 
 still in prison, still in solitary confinement ? " 
 
 " He is ; and there he will remain, if you please," 
 broke in the judge. " It becomes you well to speak in 
 this manner, after the way you talked last night, while 
 I hesitated so much." 
 
 " But, monsieur," cried the old detective, " I say now. 
 precisely the same. Ah, wretched Tabaret ! all is lost ; 
 and they will not understand you. Pardon me, mon- 
 sieur, if I lack the respect due to your office; but you 
 have not grasped my method. It is, however, very sim- 
 ple. Given a crime, with all the circumstances and de- 
 tails, I construct, piece by piece, a plan of accusation, 
 which I do not warrant until it is entire and perfect. 
 If a man is found to whom this plan applies exactly in 
 every particular, the author of the crime is found ; other- 
 wise, we have laid hands upon an innocent person. It is
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 271 
 
 not sufficient that such and such particulars seem to 
 point to him ; it must be all or nothing. This is infalli- 
 ble. Now, in this case, how have I reached the crimi- 
 nal ? By proceeding by inference from the known to the 
 unknown. I have examined his work ; and I have 
 formed an idea of the worker. Reason and logic lead 
 us to what? To a villain, determined, courageous, and 
 prudent, versed in the business. And do you think that 
 such a man would neglect a precaution that would not 
 be omitted by the commonest tyro ? It is inconceivable. 
 What! This man is so skilful as to leave such feeble 
 traces that they escaped Gevrol's practiced eye ; and you 
 think he would risk discovery by leaving an entire night 
 unaccounted for ? It's impossible ! I am as sure of my 
 system as of a well-proved rule of arithmetic. The 
 Jonchere assassin had an alibi. Albert has offered none ; 
 then he is innocent." 
 
 Daburon looked at the old detective pityingly, much 
 as he would look at a remarkable monomaniac. When 
 he had finished, 
 
 " My worthy Monsieur Tabaret," he said to him, 
 " you are entirely in the wrong. You err through an 
 excess of subtlety. You allow too freely to others the 
 wonderful sagacity with which you yourself are en- 
 dowed. Our man has failed in prudence, simply because 
 he believed his rank would place him above suspicion." 
 
 " No, monsieur, no, a thousand times no. My crim- 
 inal, the true one, he whom we have yet to find, 
 would dread every thing. Besides, does Albert defend 
 himself? No. He is overwhelmed; because he per- 
 ceives the coincidences so fatal that they appear to con- 
 demn him, without a chance of escape. Did he try to 
 excuse himself? No. He simply replied, 'It is ter- 
 rible.' And then this reticence that I cannot explain."
 
 272 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " I can explain it very easily ; and I am as confident 
 as though he had confessed every thing. I have more 
 than sufficient proofs for that." 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, those proofs ! There are always 
 enough of those against an arrested man. They have 
 existed against every innocent man who was ever con- 
 demned. Proofs! Why, I had them in quantities 
 against Kaiser, the poor little tailor, who " 
 
 " Well," interrupted the judge, hastily, " if he is not 
 the one most interested in the crime, who is? His 
 father, the Count de Commarin ? " 
 
 " No : the true assassin is a young man." 
 
 Daburon had arranged his papers, and finished his 
 preparations. He took up his hat, and, as he was go- 
 ing out, replied, 
 
 " Adieu ! Come and see me by-and-by, Tabaret, when 
 you have got rid of these fancies. To-morrow we will 
 talk the whole matter over again. I am rather tired to- 
 night." Then he added, addressing his clerk, " Con- 
 stant, bring me word, in the court of records, in case the 
 prisoner Commarin wishes to speak to me." 
 
 He had reached the door ; but Tabaret barred his exit. 
 
 " Monsieur," said the old man, " in the name of 
 heaven listen to me ! He is innocent, I swear to you. 
 Help me, then, to find the real criminal. Monsieur, 
 think of your remorse in cas*e you take this false 
 step." 
 
 But the magistrate did not wish to hear more. He 
 pushed Pere Tabaret quickly aside, and hascened into 
 the gallery. 
 
 The old man now turned to Constant. He wished 
 to convince, persuade, prove to him. Lost trouble : the 
 tall clerk hastened to fold up his baggage, thinking of 
 his soup, which was growing cold.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 273 
 
 Having closed the study door, Pere Tabaret, wretch- 
 ed in spirit, was alone in the dark gallery. The noise of 
 the courts was hushed : all was silent as the tomb. The 
 old detective desperately grasped his hair with both 
 hands. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, " Albert is innocent ; and it is I who 
 have betrayed him. I, like a madman, have infused into 
 the obstinate spirit of this judge a conviction that I can 
 no longer control. He is innocent, and is yet enduring 
 the most horrible anguish. If he should commit sui- 
 cide ! There have been instances of wretched men. who 
 in despair at being falsely accused have killed them- 
 selves in their prison. Poor boy ! But I will not abandon 
 him. I have ruined him: I will save him! I must, I 
 will find the criminal; and he shall pay dearly for my 
 mistake, the scoundrel ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AFTER seeing the Count de Commarin safely in his 
 carriage at the entrance of the palais de justice, Noel 
 Gerdy seemed inclined to leave him. 
 
 Resting one hand against the half-opened carriage- 
 door, he bowed respectfully, and said, 
 
 " When shall I have the honor of paying my respects 
 to you, monsieur? " 
 
 " Come with me now," said the old man. 
 
 The advocate, still leaning forward, muttered some 
 excuses. He had, he said, important business : he must 
 positively return to his rooms at once. 
 
 " Come," repeated the count, in a tone which admit- 
 ted of no reply. 
 
 Noel obeyed.
 
 274 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " You have found your father," said M. de Com- 
 marin in a low tone ; " but I must warn you, that you 
 at the same time lose your independence." 
 
 The carriage started; and now, for the first time, 
 the count noticed that Noel had very modestly taken his 
 seat opposite him. This modest bearing pleased him 
 much. 
 
 " Sit here, by my side, monsieur," he said ; " are you 
 not my son ? " 
 
 The advocate, without replying, took his seat by the 
 side of the old man, but as far from him as possi- 
 ble. 
 
 He had received a terrible shock in Daburon's pres- 
 ence; for he retained none of his usual boldness, none 
 of that sang-froid by which he was accustomed to con- 
 ceal his feelings. Fortunately, the ride gave him time 
 to breathe, and to recover himself a little. 
 
 On the way from the palais de justice to their home, 
 not a word passed between the father and son. 
 
 When the carriage stopped before the flight of stairs, 
 and the count got out with Noel's assistance, there was 
 great commotion among the servants. 
 
 There were, it is true, few of them present, nearly all 
 having been summoned to the palais ; but the count and 
 the advocate had scarcely disappeared, when, as if by 
 enchantment, they were all assembled in the entry. They 
 came from the garden, the stables, the cellar, and the 
 kitchen. Nearly all bore marks of their calling. One 
 young groom ran about with his wooden shoes filled 
 with straw, shuffling on the marble floor like a mangy 
 dog on the Gobelin tapestry. One of these fellows rec- 
 ognized Noel from his visit of the previous Sunday ; and 
 that was enough to set fire to all these lovers of gossip, 
 thirsting for scandal.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 275 
 
 Since morning, moreover, the unusual events at the 
 Commarin house had started a great uproar in society. 
 A thousand stories were circulated, talked over, cor- 
 rected, and added to by the ill-natured and malicious, 
 some abominably absurd, others simply idiotic. Twenty 
 people, very noble and still more proud, had not been 
 too proud to send their most intelligent servants to pay 
 a little visit among the count's servants, for the sole 
 purpose of learning something positive. As it was, 
 nobody knew any thing ; and yet everybody was fully in- 
 formed. 
 
 Let any one explain who can this very common phe- 
 nomenon : a crime is committed ; justice arrives, wrap- 
 ping itself in mystery ; the police are still ignorant of al- 
 most every thing; and yet details of the most minute 
 character are circulated about the streets. 
 
 " Ah," said a cook, " that great dark fellow with the 
 whiskers is the count's true son ! " 
 
 " You are right," said one of the servants who had 
 accompanied M. de Commarin ; " as for the other, he is 
 no more his son than Jean here ; who, by the way, will be 
 kicked out of doors, if he is caught in here with his 
 dirty working-shoes on." 
 
 " Likely story," exclaimed Jean smiling a little at 
 the danger which threatened him. 
 
 " He has been expected all the time," said the cook. 
 
 "Why, how is that?" 
 
 " Well, you see, one day, long ago, when the countess 
 who is now dead was out walking with her little son, 
 who was about six months old, the child was stolen 
 by gypsies. The poor lady was full of grief ; but, above 
 all, feared her husband, who was not kind to her. What 
 was to be done? She purchased a brat from an old 
 woman, who happened to be passing ; and, never having
 
 276 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 noticed his child, the count has never known the differ- 
 ence since." 
 
 " But the assassination ? " 
 
 " That's very simple. When the woman saw her brat 
 in such a nice berth, she bled him finely, and has kept 
 up a system of blackmailing all along. So he resolved 
 to put an end to it, and came to a final settling with her." 
 
 " And this brown fellow, what about him ? " 
 
 The orator would have gone on, without doubt, giv- 
 ing the most satisfactory explanations of every thing 
 if he had not been interrupted by the entrance of Lubin, 
 who came from the palais in company with young Jo- 
 seph. His success, so brilliant up to this time, was cut 
 short, just as that of an inferior singer when the star 
 comes on the stage. The entire assembly turned towards 
 Albert's valet de chambre, all eyes questioning him. He 
 knew at once that he was a man of importance ; but he 
 did not abuse his advantages, and make his little world 
 languish too long. 
 
 " What a rascal ! " he cried out. " What a villainous 
 fellow is this Albert ! " 
 
 He purposely did away with " monsieur " and " vis- 
 count," and met with general approval for so doing. 
 
 " But," he added, " I always had my doubts. The 
 fellow didn't please me by half. Just see to what we 
 are exposed every day in our profession. It is dread- 
 fully disagreeable. The judge concealed nothing from 
 me. ' Lubin,' said he, ' it was very wrong for a man 
 like you to serve such a scoundrel.' For you must 
 know, that, besides an old woman of about eighty, he 
 also assassinated a young girl of twelve. The little 
 child, the judge told me, was chopped into bits." 
 
 " Ah ! " put in Joseph ; " he must have been a brute. 
 How they will give it to him for such a deed, even
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 277 
 
 though he is rich; for they always punish poor men, 
 who do it simply to gain a living ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Lubin in a knowing tone ; " you will 
 see him come out of it as pure as snow. These rich 
 men can do any thing." 
 
 " But," said the cook, " I'd give willingly a month's 
 wages to be a mouse, and to listen to what the proud 
 count and the tall brown fellow are talking about. If 
 I could only get a little peep through the key-hole." 
 
 This proposition did not meet with much favor. The 
 servants knew by experience that, on important occa- 
 sions, spying was worse than useless. 
 
 M. de Commarin knew all about servants from 
 infancy. 
 
 His study was, therefore, a shelter to all imprudence. 
 The sharpest ear placed at the keyhole could understand 
 nothing of what was going on within, even when the 
 count was in a passion, and his voice loudest. One 
 alone, Denis, monsieur le premier, as they called him, 
 had the opportunity of gathering information; but he 
 was well paid for being discreet : and he was discretion 
 itself. 
 
 At this time, Monsieur de Commarin was sitting in 
 the same chair which he had beaten with such a furious 
 hand while listening to Albert. 
 
 From the moment he touched the step of his carriage, 
 the old gentleman recovered his haughtiness. He be- 
 came even more arrogant in his manner, as if he felt 
 the mortification of his attitude before the judge, and 
 wished himself dead for what he now considered an 
 unpardonable weakness. 
 
 He wondered how he could have yielded to a momenj 
 tary impulse, how his grief could have so basely be- 
 trayed him.
 
 278 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 At the remembrance of the avowals wrested from him 
 in his wildness, he blushed, and called himself the worst 
 of names. 
 
 Like Albert, the night before, Noel, having recovered 
 himself fully, held himself erect, cold as marble, respect- 
 ful, but no longer humble. 
 
 The father and son exchanged glances which had 
 nothing of sympathy nor of friendliness. 
 
 They examined one another; they measured each 
 other, much as two adversaries feel their way with their 
 eyes before encountering with their weapons. 
 
 " Monsieur," finally said the count in a hard tone, 
 " henceforth this house is yours. From this moment, 
 you are the Viscount de Commarin; you re-enter into 
 the fulness of the rights of which you have been de- 
 prived. Wait. Listen, before you thank me. I wish, 
 in the beginning, to relieve you from all misunderstand- 
 ing. Had I been master of the situation, I should never 
 have recognized you : Albert should have remained in 
 the position in which I placed him." 
 
 " I understand you, monsieur," replied Noel. " I 
 don't think that I could ever bring myself to do an act 
 like that by which you deprived me of my birthright; 
 but I declare that, if I had the misfortune to have done 
 it, I should have thereafter acted as you have. Your 
 rank was too conspicuous to permit a voluntary ac- 
 knowledgment. It was a thousand times better to suf- 
 fer an injustice to continue in secret than to expose 
 your name to the comments of the malicious." 
 
 This answer surprised the count, and very agreeably. 
 But he would not let his satisfaction be seen; and it 
 was with a still harder tone that he continued, 
 
 " I have no claim, monsieur, upon your affection ; I 
 do not ask for it ; but I insist at all times upon the ut-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 279 
 
 most deference. It is traditional in our house, that the 
 son shall never interrupt his father when he is speak- 
 ing; that you have just been guilty of. Children are 
 not to judge their parents ; that also you have just done. 
 When I was forty years of age, my father was in his 
 second childhood ; but I do not remember having raised 
 my voice once above his. This much, said by way of 
 caution, I continue. I have undergone considerable ex- 
 pense in providing Albert with an establishment distinct 
 from my own, with servants, horses, and carriages; 
 and I have allowed the unhappy boy four thousand 
 francs a month. I have decided, in order to put a stop 
 to all foolish gossip, and to make your position the 
 easier, that you ought to hold a more important place 
 in the house, this for my own sake. Further, I will 
 increase your monthly allowance to six thousand francs ; 
 which I trust you will spend as nobly as possible, giv- 
 ing the least possible chance for ridicule. I cannot too 
 strongly exhort you to the utmost caution. Keep close 
 watch over yourself. Weigh your words well. Reason 
 about your slightest actions. You will be the point of 
 observation for thousands of impertinent idlers who 
 compose our w.orld ; your blunders will be their delight. 
 Do you fence ? " 
 
 " Moderately well." 
 
 "So. Do you ride?" 
 
 " No ; but in six months I will be a good horseman, 
 or break my neck." 
 
 " It is fashionable to be a horseman, not to break 
 one's neck. Let us proceed. You will, of course, not 
 occupy Albert's apartments. They will be closely locked, 
 as soon as they are free from the police. Thank heaven ! 
 the house is large. You will occupy the other wing; 
 and there will be a separate entrance to your apart-
 
 28o THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ments, by a separate staircase. Servants, horses, car- 
 riages, furniture, such as becomes a viscount, will be 
 at your service, cost what it may, within forty-eight 
 hours. On the day of your taking possession, you 
 must look as though you had been installed for years. 
 There will be great scandal ; but that cannot be 
 avoided. A prudent father might send you away for 
 a few months to the Austrian court or to the Russian ; 
 but, in this instance, such prudence would be absurd. 
 Much better a dreadful outcry, which ends quickly, than 
 low murmurs which last forever. Dare public opinion ; 
 and, in eight days, it will have exhausted its comments, 
 and the story will have become old. So, to work ! 
 This evening, the laborers shall be here; and, in the. 
 first place, I must present you to my servants." 
 
 To put this purpose into execution, the count moved 
 to touch the bell-rope. Noel stopped him. 
 
 Since the commencement of this interview, the advo- 
 cate had wandered in the regions of the thousand and 
 one nights, the wonderful lamp in his hand. The fairy 
 reality cast into the shade his wildest dreams. He was 
 dazzled at the words of the count, and had 
 need of all his reason to struggle against the 
 giddiness which came over him, at realizing his great 
 good fortune. Touched by a magic wand, he seemed 
 to awake to a thousand novel and unknown sensations. 
 He rolled in purple and bathed in gold. 
 
 But he knew how to appear unmoved. His face had 
 contracted the habit of guarding the secret of the most 
 violent inner excitement. While all his passions vi- 
 brated within him, he listened apparently with a sad 
 and almost indifferent coldness." 
 
 " Permit me," he said to the count, " without over- 
 stepping the bounds of the utmost respect, to say a few
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 281 
 
 words. I am touched more than I can express by your 
 goodness ; and yet, I beseech you, to delay its manifes- 
 tation. The proposition I am about to suggest may 
 perhaps appear to you worthy of consideration. It 
 seems to me that the situation demands the greatest 
 delicacy. It is well to despise public opinion, but not 
 to defy it. I am certain to be judged with the utmost 
 severity. If I instal myself so suddenly in your house, 
 what will they not say ? I shall have the appearance of 
 a conqueror, who thinks little, in attaining his purpose, 
 of passing over the bodies of the conquered. They will 
 reproach me with occupying the bed still warm from 
 Albert's body. They will rail bitterly at my haste in 
 taking possession. They will certainly compare me 
 to Albert; and the comparison will be to my disadvan- 
 tage, because I seem to triumph at a time when a great 
 disaster has fallen upon our house." 
 
 The count listened without marked disapproval, 
 struck perhaps by the justice of his reasons. 
 
 Noel imagined that his hardness was much more 
 feigned than real; and this idea encouraged him. 
 
 " I beseech you then, monsieur," he continued, " to 
 permit me for the present in no way to change my mode 
 of living. By not showing myself, I leave all malicious 
 remarks to waste themselves in air, I let public opin- 
 ion the better familiarize itself with the idea of a coming 
 change. There is a great deal in not taking the world 
 by surprise. By waiting, I shall not have the air of an 
 intruder on presenting myself. Absent, I shall have 
 the advantages which the unknown always possess,- 
 I shall draw to myself the good opinion of all those 
 who have envied Albert, I shall obtain as defenders all 
 those servants who would to-morrow assail me, if my 
 elevation came suddenly upon them. Besides, by this
 
 282 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 delay, I should accustom myself to my abrupt change 
 of fortune. I ought not to bring into your world, which 
 is now mine, the manners of a parvenu. My name 
 ought not to incommode me, like an ill-made coat. And, 
 by thus acting, it will be possible for me to rectify, at 
 home and without noise, the mistakes of my early edu- 
 cation." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be the wisest," murmured the 
 count. 
 
 This assent, so easily obtained, surprised Noel. He 
 got the idea that the count had only wished to prove 
 him, to test him. In any case, whether he had tri- 
 umphed by his eloquence, or whether he had simply 
 shunned a trap, he had triumphed. His boldness in- 
 creased ; he determined to make himself master in every 
 way. 
 
 " I must add, monsieur," he continued, " that I have 
 certain changes to bring about in myself. Before en- 
 tering upon duties in my new life, I ought to finish those 
 in my old. I have friends and clients. This event has 
 surprised me, just as I was beginning to reap the re- 
 ward of ten years of hard work and perseverance. I had 
 yet only sown ; I was on the point of gathering in my 
 harvest. My name was already rising. I had obtained 
 some little influence. I confess, without shame, that I 
 have heretofore professed ideas and opinions that would 
 not be suited to this house ; and it would be impossible 
 to-day or to-morrow for " 
 
 " Ah ! " interrupted the count in a bantering tone, 
 " you were a liberal. It is a fashionable disease. Al- 
 bert was a great liberal." 
 
 " My ideas, monsieur," said Noel eagerly, " were 
 those of every intelligent man who wishes to rise. Be- 
 sides, have not all parties one and the same aim
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 283 
 
 power? They merely take different means of reaching 
 it. I will not enlarge upon this subject. Be assured, 
 monsieur, that I will respect my' name, and think and 
 act as a man of my rank should." 
 
 " I trust so," said M. de Commarin ; " and I hope 
 that you will never make me regret Albert." 
 
 " At least, monsieur, it will not be my fault. But 
 since you have mentioned the name of that unfortunate 
 young man, let us speak of him." 
 
 The count cast a look of defiance upon Noel. 
 
 " What can now. be done for Albert ? " he asked. 
 
 " What, monsieur ! " cried Noel with ardor, " would 
 you abandon him, when he has not a friend left in the 
 world ? He is still your son, monsieur ; he is my brother. 
 For thirty years he has borne the name of Commarin. 
 All the members of a family are one. Innocent, or 
 guilty, he has a right to count upon us ; and we owe him 
 our assistance." 
 
 This was another of those sentiments which the count 
 recognized as Albert's; and this second one again 
 touched him. 
 
 " What do you then hope for, monsieur ? " he asked. 
 
 " To save him, if he is innocent ; and I love to believe 
 that he is. I am an advocate, monsieur ; and I wish to 
 defend him. I have been told that I have considerable 
 talent; in such a cause, I must have. Yes, however 
 strong the charges against him may be, I will over- 
 throw them. I will dispel all doubts. The truth shall 
 burst forth through my voice. . I will find new accents to 
 imbue the judges with my conviction. I will save him ; 
 and this shall be my last cause." 
 
 " And if he should confess," said the count, " if he 
 should confess ? " 
 
 " Then monsieur," replied Noel with a dark look, " I
 
 284 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 will render him the last service, which in such a misfor- 
 tune I should ask of a brother, the means of avoiding 
 judgment." 
 
 " That is w.ell said, monsieur," said the count, 
 " very well, my son." 
 
 And he extended his hand to Noel, who pressed it, 
 bowing with a respectful acknowledgment. 
 
 The advocate breathed again. At last he had found 
 the way to the heart of this haughty noble ; he had con- 
 quered, he had pleased him. 
 
 " Let us return to ourselves," continued the count. 
 " I yield to the reasons which you have suggested. But 
 do not consider this a precedent. I never retire from a 
 plan once undertaken, unless it is proved to me to be 
 bad, and contrary to my interests. But at least nothing 
 need prevent your remaining here to-day, and dining 
 with me. We will, in the first place, see where you can 
 lodge until you formally take possession of the apart- 
 ments which are to be prepared for you." 
 
 Noel ventured to interrupt the old gentleman again. 
 
 " Monsieur," said he, " when you bade me follow you 
 here, I obeyed you, as was my duty. Now another and a 
 sacred duty calls me away. Madame Gerdy is at this 
 moment expiring. Ought I to leave the death-bed of 
 her who filled my mother's place ? " 
 
 " Valerie ! " murmured the count. 
 
 He leaned upon the arm of his chair, his face buried 
 in his hands ; in one moment the whole past rose up be- 
 fore him. 
 
 " She has done me great harm," he murmured, as if 
 answering his thoughts. " She has ruined my whole 
 life ; but ought I to be implacable ? She is dying from 
 the accusation which is hanging over our son, Albert. 
 It w.as I who was the cause of it all. Doubtless, in this
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 285 
 
 last hour, a word from me would be a great consolation 
 to her. I will accompany you, monsieur." 
 
 Noel started at this unexpected proposition. 
 
 " O monsieur ! " said he hastily, " spare yourself, pray, 
 a heart-rending sight. Your going would be useless, 
 Madame Gerdy probably yet exists; but her mind is 
 dead. Her brain was unable to resist so violent a shock. 
 The unfortunate woman would neither recognize nor 
 understand you." 
 
 " Go then alone," sighed the count, " go, my son." 
 
 The words " my son," pronounced with a marked em- 
 phasis, sounded like a note of victory in Noel's ears, 
 which only his studied reserve concealed. 
 
 He bowed to take his leave. The old gentleman signed 
 him to stay. 
 
 " In any event," he said, " a place at table will be set 
 for you here. I dine at precisely half-past six. I shall 
 be glad to see you." 
 
 He rang. Monsieur le premier appeared. " Denis," 
 said he, " none of the orders I have given will affect this 
 gentleman. You will tell this to all the servants. This 
 gentleman is at home here." 
 
 The advocate took his leave ; and the count felt great 
 comfort in being once more alone. 
 
 Since morning, events had followed one another with 
 such bewildering rapidity that his thoughts could 
 scarcely keep pace with them. At last, he was able to 
 reflect. 
 
 " There, then," said he to himself, " is my legitimate 
 son. I am sure of his birth, at any rate. Truly it would 
 be with a bad grace, were I to deny him. I find him an 
 exact picture of myself at thirty. He is a fine fellow, 
 this Noel, very fine. His features are decidedly in his 
 favor. He is intelligent and acute. He knows how to
 
 286 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 be humble without lowering himself, firm without arro- 
 gance. His new and unexpected fortune does not make 
 him giddy. I augur well of a man who knows how to 
 bear himself in prosperity. He thinks well. He will 
 carry his title proudly. And yet I feel no sympathy 
 with him; it seems to me that I shall regret my poor 
 Albert. I never knew how to appreciate him. Un- 
 happy boy! To commit a dreadful crime! He must 
 have lost his reason. I do not like the sight of this one : 
 he is too clever. They say that he is perfect. He ex- 
 presses, at least, the noblest and most appropriate sen- 
 timents. He is kind and brave, magnanimous, gener- 
 ous, heroic. He is without malice, and is ready to sacri- 
 fice himself to repay me for what I have done for him. 
 He forgives Madame Gerdy; he loves Albert. That 
 makes me distrust him. But all young men nowadays 
 are so. Ah ! w.e live in a happy age. Our children are 
 born free from all human mistakes. They have none of 
 the vices, passions, nor prejudices of their fathers; and 
 these precocious philosophers, models of sagacity and 
 virtue, are incapable of committing the least folly. Alas ! 
 Albert, too, was perfect ; and he has assassinated Clau- 
 dine ! That might imply, but what matters it ? " he 
 added, half aloud. " I wish I had gone to see Valerie ! " 
 
 And although the advocate had been gone at least 
 ten good minutes, M. de Commarin, not realizing how 
 time had passed, hastened to the window, in the hope 
 of seeing Noel in the yard, and hailing him. 
 
 But Noel had already gone. On leaving the house, 
 he had taken a cab as far as the Rue Bourgoyne, and 
 from thence to the Rue St. Lazare. 
 
 Arrived at his own door, he threw rather than gave 
 five francs to the driver, and ran rapidly up to the fourth 
 story.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 287 
 
 " Who has called upon me ? " he asked of the maid. 
 
 " No one, monsieur." 
 
 He seemed relieved from a great anxiety, and spoke 
 again in a calmer tone. 
 
 "And the doctor?" 
 
 " He came this morning," replied the maid, " while 
 you were away; and he did not seem at all confident. 
 He has returned every hour, and is now here." 
 
 " Very well. I am going in to speak to him. If any 
 one calls, show them into my study, and call me." 
 
 While entering Madame Gerdy's chamber, Noel won- 
 dered how he could discover whether any one had been 
 in during his absence. 
 
 The sick woman, her eyes fixed, her face convulsed, 
 lay extended upon her back. 
 
 She seemed dead, save for suden starts, which at in- 
 tervals shook her and disturbed the bedclothes. 
 
 Above her head was placed a little vessel, filled with 
 ice water, which fell drop by drop upon her face and 
 upon her forehead, covered with large bluish spots. 
 
 The table and mantel were laden with little pots, orna- 
 mented with strings of roses, vials for medicines, and 
 half-emptied glasses. 
 
 At the foot of the bed, a piece of linen stained with 
 blood showed that they had been using leeches. 
 
 Near the fireplace, where burned a large fire, a nun 
 of the order of St. Vincent de Paul was crouching, 
 watching a kettle boil. 
 
 She was a woman still young, her face whiter than 
 her skirt. Her features were immovably placid, her Io0k 
 mournful, betraying the renunciation of the flesh, and 
 the abdication of all independence of thought. 
 
 Her dress of gray hung from her in large ungraceful 
 folds. At her every motion, her large bead-roll of dyed
 
 288 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 box-wood, weighed down by a cross and copper medals, 
 was shaken, and dragged on the ground with a noise 
 like a chain. 
 
 Upon a chair opposite the bed Dr Herve sat, follow.- 
 ing apparently with close attention the sister's prepara- 
 tions. He raised himself eagerly, as Noel entered. 
 
 " At last you are here," he said, giving his friend a 
 strong grasp of the hand. 
 
 " I was detained at the palais," said the advocate, as 
 if he felt the necessity of explaining his absence ; " and 
 I have been, as you may well imagine, dreadfully 
 anxious." 
 
 He bent down to the doctor's ear, and, with his voice 
 trembling with anxiety, asked, 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 The doctor shook his head with an air of deep dis- 
 couragement. 
 
 " She is much worse," he replied ; " since morning, 
 bad symptoms have succeeded each other with frightful 
 rapidity." 
 
 He checked himself. The advocate seized his arm, 
 and pinched it. Madame Gerdy had stirred a little, and 
 let a feeble groan escape her. 
 
 " She understood you," murmured Noel. 
 
 " I wish it were so," said the doctor ; " it would be 
 most encouraging. But you are mistaken. However, 
 go to her." 
 
 He approached Madame Gerdy, and taking her pulse, 
 examined it carefully; then, with the end of his finger, 
 he lightly raised the eyelid. 
 
 The eye appeared dull, glassy, lifeless. 
 
 " Come, judge for yourself; take her hand, speak to 
 her." 
 
 Noel, trembling all over, obeyed his friend. He ad-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 289 
 
 vanced, and, leaning on the bed so that his mouth al- 
 most touched her ear, he murmured, 
 
 " Mother, it is I, Noel, your own Noel. Speak 
 to me, make some sign, if you know me, mother." 
 
 It was in vain ; she retained her frightful immobility. 
 Not a sign of intelligence crossed her features. 
 
 " You see," said the doctor, " I told you the truth." 
 
 " Poor woman ! " sighed Noel, " does she suffer ? " 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 The nun now rose ; and she too came near the bed. 
 
 " Doctor," said she, " it is all ready." 
 
 " Then call the maid, sister, to help us. We are going 
 to apply a mustard poultice." 
 
 The servant hastened in. In the arms of the two 
 women, Madame Gerdy was like a corpse, whose last 
 toilet they were making. She was rigid as though she 
 were dead. She must have suffered much and long, 
 poor woman ! for it was pitiable to see how thin she was. 
 The nun herself was affected, although she had become 
 habituated to the sight of suffering. How many sick 
 people had breathed their last in her arms during the 
 fifteen years that she had gone from pillow to pillow ! 
 
 Noel, during this time, had retired into the recess of 
 the window, and pressed his burning brow against the 
 panes. 
 
 Of what was he thinking, while she was dying a few 
 paces from him, she who had given him so many 
 proofs of maternal tenderness and devotion? Did he 
 regret her? Did he not think rather of the grand and 
 magnificent existence which was awaiting him on the 
 other side of the river, at the Faubourg St. Germain? 
 He turned abruptly about, upon hearing the voice of his 
 friend. 
 
 " It is done," said the doctor ; " we have only now
 
 290 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 to wait the effect of the mustard. If she feels it, it will 
 be a good sign ; if it has no effect, we will try cupping." 
 
 " And if she never stirs ? " 
 
 The doctor answered only with a shrug of the shoul- 
 ders, which showed his feeling of absolute powerless- 
 ness. 
 
 " I understand your silence, Herve," murmured Noel. 
 " Alas ! you fear that to-night she is lost." 
 
 " Scientifically, yes ; but I do not yet despair. It was 
 hardly a year ago that the grandfather of one of our 
 comrades was saved in an almost identical case; and I 
 have seen worse cases than this, where suppuration 
 had commenced." 
 
 " It breaks my heart to see her in that state. Must 
 she die without recovering her reason for one moment ? 
 Will she not recognize me, speak one word to me ? " 
 
 " Who knows ? This disease, my poor friend ! baffles 
 all foresight. Each moment, the aspect may change, 
 according as the inflammation affects such or such a part 
 of the encephalic mass. She is now in a state of utter 
 insensibility, of the destruction of all her intellectual 
 faculties, of drowsiness, of paralysis; to-morrow, she 
 may be taken with convulsions, accompanied with a 
 lightness of the brain, a fierce delirium." 
 
 " And will she speak then ? " 
 
 " Without doubt ; but that will not change either the 
 nature or the gravity of the disease." 
 
 " And will she recover her reason ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," answered the doctor, looking fixedly at 
 his friend ; " but why do you ask that ? " 
 
 " Ah, my dear Herve, one word from Madame Gerdy, 
 only one, would be of such use to me ! " 
 
 " In your affairs, eh ? Well, I can tell you nothing, 
 can promise you nothing. You have chances in your
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 291 
 
 favor, and chances against you; only do not be far 
 away. If her intelligence returns, it will be only by 
 flashes ; try and profit by them. But I must go," added 
 the doctor : " I have still three visits to make." 
 
 Noel followed his friend. When he reached the stair- 
 case, 
 
 " You will return ? " he asked. 
 
 " This evening, at nine. There is no need of me at 
 present. All depends upon the watcher. But I have 
 chosen a pearl. I know her well." 
 
 " It was you, then, who brought this nun ? " 
 
 " Yes, with your permission. Are you displeased ? " 
 
 " Not the least in the world. Only, I confess " 
 
 "What? you make a face. Perhaps you object to 
 having your mother nursed by a daughter of St. Vin- 
 cent?" 
 
 " My dear Herve, you " 
 
 " Well, I agree with you entirely. They are adroit, 
 insinuating, dangerous, I know. If I had an old uncle, 
 whose heir I expected to be, I shouldn't bring one of 
 these into my house. These good daughters are some- 
 times charged with strange commissions. But what is 
 there to fear now ? Let them speak their foolish words. 
 Money aside, these good sisters are the best nurses in 
 the world. I hope you w.ill have one on your death-bed. 
 But good-by ; I am in a hurry." 
 
 So, regardless of his professional dignity, the doctor 
 jumped down the stairs ; while Noel, thoughtful, his face 
 charged with anxiety, went back into Madame Gerdy's 
 room. 
 
 Upon the threshold of the sick-room, the nun awaited 
 the advocate's return. 
 
 " Monsieur," said she, " monsieur." 
 
 " You want something of me, sister ? "
 
 292 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Monsieur, the maid bade me come to you for money ; 
 she has no more, and had to get credit at the apothe- 
 cary's." 
 
 "Excuse me, sister," interrupted Noel in no very 
 eager tone, "excuse me for not having anticipated 
 your request ; but you see I am a little confused." 
 
 And, taking out a hundred franc note, he laid it on 
 the mantel. 
 
 "Thanks, monsieur," said the sister; "I will keep 
 account of all expenses. We always do this, ' ' she added ; 
 "it is more convenient for the family, one is so 
 troubled at seeing one we love sick. You have perhaps 
 not thought of giving this poor lady the sweet aid of our 
 beloved religion ? In your place, monsieur, I should 
 send without delay for a priest, " 
 
 " Why, sister, you see the condition she is in ! She 
 is the same as dead ; you saw that she did not heed my 
 voice." 
 
 "That is of little consequence, monsieur," replied the 
 sister: "you ought always to do your duty. She did 
 not reply to you ; but are you sure that she would not 
 reply to a priest? Ah, you do not understand all the 
 power of the last rites ! I have seen , even the dying re- 
 vive their intelligence and strength to make confes- 
 sion, and to receive the sacred body of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ. I have often heard families say, that they did 
 not wish to frighten their sick friend, that the sight 
 of the minister of our Lord would inspire a terror that 
 would hasten the final end. It is a grievous error. The 
 priest does not terrify ; he reassures the soul, at the 
 beginning of its long journey. He speaks in the name 
 of the God of mercy, who comes to save, not to destroy. 
 I could cite to you many cases of dying people who have 
 been cured simply by contact with the sacred balm. ' '
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 293 
 
 The good sister spoke in a tone mournful as her look. 
 Her heart was evidently not in the words she pronounced. 
 Without doubt, she had learned them when she first 
 entered the convent. Then they expressed something 
 she really felt, she spoke her own thoughts ; but, since 
 then, she had repeated the words over and over again 
 to the friends of every sick person, until they lost all 
 meaning. It was thereafter only a succession of hack- 
 neyed words, which she spoke much as she did the Latin 
 words in her rosary. It became simply a part of her 
 duties as nurse, like the preparation of draughts, and 
 the making of poultices. 
 
 Noel did not listen to her ; his thoughts were far away. 
 
 " Your dear mother," continued the sister, " this good 
 lady that you love so much, ought to have the aid of her 
 religion. Do you wish to endanger her soul? If she 
 could speak in the midst of these cruel sufferings " 
 
 The advocate was on the point of replying, when the 
 servant announced that a gentleman, who would not 
 give his name, wished to speak with him on business. 
 
 " I will come," he said quickly. 
 
 " What do you decide, monsieur ? " persisted the nun. 
 
 " I leave you free, sister, to do as you may judge- 
 best." 
 
 The w.orthy woman began to recite her lesson of 
 thanks but uselessly. Noel had disappeared with a dis- 
 pleased look; and almost immediately she heard his 
 voice in the next room, saying, 
 
 " Ah, Clergeot, I had almost given up seeing you ! " 
 
 The visitor, who awaited the advocate, was a person 
 well known in the Rue St. Lazare, from Rue Provence 
 to the quarters of Notre Dame de Lorette, and all along 
 the outer boulevards, from the embankment of Martyrs 
 to the cross-roads at Clichy.
 
 294 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Clergeot was no more a usurer than the father of 
 M. Jourdain was a merchant. Only having more money 
 than he could very well use, he lent it to his friends; 
 and, in return for this kindness, he consented to receive 
 interest, which varied from twenty to thirty per cent. 
 
 The excellent man positively enjoyed the practice; 
 and his honesty was generally appreciated. He was 
 never known to arrest a debtor ; he preferred to follow 
 him without relaxation or intermission for ten years, 
 and drag from him bit by bit what was due him. 
 
 He lived near the top of the Rue Victoire. He had no 
 shop; and yet he sold everything salable, and some 
 other things, too, that the law scarcely considers mer- 
 chandise, any thing to be useful or neighborly. He 
 often asserted that he was not rich. It was possibly 
 true. He was odd, very covetous, and fearfully bold. 
 Light in purse when it suited him, he would not lend 
 a hundred sous, even with the Ferriere's guarantee, to 
 those who did not please him ; but he would risk his all 
 on the smallest chance at cards. 
 
 His preferred customers consisted of young girls, 
 actresses, artists, and those venturesome fellows who 
 enter upon a profession worth only what they can earn, 
 such as advocates and doctors. 
 
 He lent to women upon their present beauty, to men 
 upon their future talent. Slight pledges ! His sagacity, 
 it should be said, however, enjoyed a great reputation. 
 It was rarely deceived. A girl of the town, furnished 
 by Clergeot, had a great start in the world. For an 
 actress to be in Clergeot's debt was a recommendation 
 preferable to the warmest criticism. 
 
 Madame Juliette had procured this useful and hon- 
 orable alliance for her lover. 
 
 Noel, who knew well how sensitive this worthy man
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 295 
 
 was to kind attentions, and how pleased by politeness, 
 began by offering him a seat, and asking after his health. 
 Clergeot gave details. His teeth were still good; but 
 his sight was beginning to fail. His leg was growing 
 soft, and his ear hard. The chapter of grievances ended, 
 " you know," he said, " why I have come. Your notes 
 fall due to-day ; and I am in devilish need of money. I 
 have one of ten, one of seven, and a third of five thou- 
 sand francs: total, twenty-two thousand francs." 
 
 " Ah, Clergeot," replied Noel, " not a bad joke, this ! " 
 
 " Joke? " said the usurer ; " I am not joking at all." 
 
 " I hope you are. Why, it's just eight days to-day 
 since I wrote to tell you that I could not be ready, and 
 asking for a renewal ! " 
 
 " I remember perfectly receiving your letter." 
 
 " What do you say to it, then ? " 
 
 " By my not answering the note, I supposed that you 
 would understand that I could not comply with your 
 request. I trust that you will exert yourself to find the 
 amount for me." 
 
 Noel let a gesture of impatience escape him. 
 
 " I cannot do it," he said ; " so take your own course. 
 I haven't a sou." 
 
 " The devil ! Do you know that I have renewed these 
 notes four times already ? " 
 
 " I know that the interest has been fully and promptly 
 paid, and at a rate which need not make you regret the 
 investment." 
 
 Clergeot never liked to talk about the interest he re- 
 ceived. 
 
 He pretended that it was humiliating. 
 
 " I do not complain ; I only say that you take things 
 too easily with me. If I had put your signature in cir- 
 culation, it would be paid the moment it came due."
 
 296 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 " Yes, your pride would not bear trifling ; and you 
 would have found means to shun a suit. But you say, 
 ' Father Clergeot is a good fellow : he is trustworthy.' 
 But I am so only when it can do me no harm. Now, 
 to-day, I am in great need of funds, in great 
 need," he added, emphasizing each word. 
 
 The old fellow's decided tone seemed to disturb the 
 advocate. 
 
 " Must I repeat it ? " he said ; " I am completely 
 drained com plete ly ! " 
 
 " Indeed ? " said the usurer ; " well, I am sorry for 
 you ; but I shall have to put the papers in the sheriff's 
 hands." 
 
 " To what end ? Let us play our cards out, Monsieur 
 Clergeot. You expect to increase the sheriff's revenue. 
 Is it not so? After you have been to all the expense, 
 you may perhaps recover a centime. You will get judg- 
 ment against me. Well, what then? Do you think of 
 attaching ? This is not my house ; the lease is in Mad- 
 ame Gerdy's name." 
 
 " I know all that. Besides, the sale of every thing 
 here would not cover the amount." 
 
 " Then you count upon dragging me to Clichy ! Bad 
 speculation, I warn you : you will not only lose what I 
 owe you, but much more beside." 
 
 " Good ! " cried the honest pawnbroker. " How you 
 abuse me ! You call that being frank. Pshaw ! if you 
 supposed me capable of half the malicious things you 
 have said, my money would be there in your drawer, 
 ready for me." 
 
 " A mistake ! I should not know where to get it, un- 
 less by asking Madame Gerdy, a thing I would never 
 do."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 297 
 
 A sarcastic and most irritating little laugh, peculiar 
 to Pere Clergeot interrupted Noel. 
 
 " There would be simply the trouble of asking," said 
 the usurer : " mamma's purse has long been empty ; and 
 if the dear creature should die now, they tell me she 
 is very ill, I would not give two hundred louis for the 
 inheritance." 
 
 The advocate flushed : his eyes glittered ; but he dis- 
 sembled, and protested with some spirit. 
 
 " We know what we know," continued Clergeot qui- 
 etly. " Before a man risks his all, he takes pains to in- 
 quire into his chances. Mamma's last money was 
 poured out in October last. Ah ! the Rue Provence is 
 an expensive place ! I have made an estimate, which is 
 at home. Juliette is a charming woman, to be sure: 
 she has not her equal, I am convinced ; but she is expen- 
 sive, devilish expensive." 
 
 Noel was enraged at hearing his Juliette thus spoken 
 of by this honorable personage. But what reply could 
 he make? Besides, none of us are perfect; and Cler- 
 geot's fault was in not properly appreciating women, 
 which doubtless arose from the business transactions 
 he had had with them. He was charming in his busi- 
 ness with the fair sex, complimenting and flattering 
 them ; but the greatest injuries would be less revolting 
 than this impertinent familiarity. 
 
 " You have gone too fast," he continued, without 
 deigning to notice his customer's look ; " and I have told 
 you so before. But, pshaw ! you are wild over the girl. 
 You cannot refuse her any thing. Fool ! When a pretty 
 girl wants any thing, you should let her teaze for it a 
 long time ; it gives her something to occupy her mind, 
 and keeps her from thinking of a quantity of other 
 follies. Four real strong wishes, well managed, ought
 
 298 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 to last a year. You don't know how to look after your 
 own interests. I know that her glance would strike 
 terror into a stone saint; and she knows her business 
 well. Why, there are not ten girls in Paris who live in 
 such style ! And do you think she will love you any 
 the more ? Not a bit of it. When she has ruined you, 
 she'll leave you in the lurch." 
 
 Noel accepted the eloquence of his prudent banker 
 something as a man without an umbrella accepts a 
 shower. 
 
 " What is the object of all this? " he asked. 
 
 " Simply that I will not renew your notes. You un- 
 derstand ? At the moment they fall due, you must hand 
 me the twenty-two thousand francs in question. You 
 need not frown : you will find means to do it, to prevent 
 my attaching your goods, not here, for that would be 
 absurd, but at your little girl's house; who would 
 scarcely be pleased, and who won't hesitate to show her 
 displeasure." 
 
 " But it is her own house ; and you have no right " 
 
 " What of that ? She is the cause of all this trouble. I 
 could well wait ; but she is wasting your money. Believe 
 me, you had best parry the blow. I wish to be paid now. 
 I won't give you any further delay ; because, for three 
 months, you have been living on your last resources. It 
 won't do. You are in one of those conditions that must 
 be continued at any price. You would burn the wood 
 from your dying mother's bed to warm this creature's 
 feet. What has become of the ten thousand francs that 
 you left with her the other evening ? Who knows what 
 you will attempt, to procure money ? The idea of striv- 
 ing to ward it off fifteen days, three days, perhaps but 
 a single day more ! Open your eyes. I know the game 
 well. If you do not leave Juliette, you will be ruined.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 299 
 
 Listen to a little good advice, gratis. You must leave 
 her, sooner or later, mustn't you ? Do it to-day, then." 
 
 As you see, our worthy Clergeot never minced the 
 truth to his customers, when they were not in the right 
 path. If they were displeased, so much the worse for 
 them : his conscience was at rest ; it was not his affair, 
 who never did a foolish thing in his life. 
 
 Noel could bear it no longer ; and his ill-humor burst 
 forth. 
 
 " Enough," he cried decidedly. " Do as you please, 
 Monsieur Clergeot, but have done with your advice. I 
 prefer the sheriff's plain prose. If I have committed 
 imprudences, I can repair them, doubtless, much to your 
 surprise. Yes, Monsieur Clergeot, I can find the twenty- 
 two thousand francs ; I can have a hundred thousand to- 
 morrow morning, if I see fit. It will cost me the mere 
 trouble of asking; but I do not see fit. My expenses, 
 however displeasing to you, must remain secret as here- 
 tofore. I do not wish that my embarrassment should 
 be even suspected. I will not relinquish, for your sake, 
 the aim that I have pursued, the very day it is in my 
 grasp." 
 
 " He resists," thought the usurer ; " he is less deeply 
 involved than I had imagined." 
 
 " So," continued the advocate, " take your paper to 
 the sheriff. In eight days, I shall be summoned before 
 the court of commerce ; and I shall ask for twenty-five 
 days' delay, which the judges always grant to an embar- 
 rassed debtor. Twenty-five and eight, all the world 
 over, make just thirty-three days. That is precisely the 
 respite I need. Let us resume ; accept from me a bill of 
 exchange for twenty-four thousand francs in six weeks, 
 or go at once for the sheriff." 
 
 " And in six weeks," replied the usurer, " you will
 
 300 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 be in precisely the same condition you are to-day. And 
 forty-five days more of Juliette will " 
 
 " Monsieur Clergeot," answered Noel, " long before 
 that time, my position will be completely changed. But 
 I have finished," he added rising; " and my time is val- 
 uable," 
 
 " One moment, you impatient fellow," interrupted the 
 good-natured banker, " you said twenty-four thousand 
 francs in forty-five days ? " 
 
 " Yes. That is about sixty-five per cent, pretty fair 
 interest." 
 
 " I never cavil about interest," said Clergeot ; 
 but" 
 
 He looked sharply at Noel, rubbing his chin violently, 
 a movement which in him indicated intense brain work. 
 
 " Only," he continued, " I should like to know upon 
 what you are counting." 
 
 " That I cannot tell you. You will know it ere long, 
 in common with all the world." 
 
 " I have it," cried Clergeot, " I have it ; you are 
 going to marry. You have found an heiress ; your little 
 Juliette told me something of that sort this morning. 
 Ah ! you are going to marry. Is she pretty ? But what 
 matters it? She has a full purse, eh? You wouldn't 
 take her without that. Then you will keep house ? " 
 
 " I did not say so." 
 
 " That's right. Be discreet. But I can take a hint. 
 One word more. Be careful ; your little girl has a sus- 
 picion of the truth. You are right ; it wouldn't do to 
 be seeking money now. The slightest mis-step would 
 be sufficient to put your father-in-law upon the track of 
 your financial position; and you would lose the girl. 
 Marry, and settle down. But conceal it from Juliette; 
 or I would not give a hundred sous for your wedding.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 301 
 
 So it is settled. Prepare a bill of exchange for twenty- 
 four thousand francs, and I will bring your notes to you 
 on Monday." 
 
 " You haven't them with you, then? " 
 
 " No. And, to be frank with you, I confess that, 
 knowing well I should get nothing from you, I left them 
 with others, with the sheriff. However, you may rest 
 easy ; you have my word." 
 
 Clergeot made an appearance of retiring; but, just as 
 he was going out, he turned sharply around. 
 
 " I forgot," said he; " while you are about it, you can 
 make the bill for twenty-six .thousand francs. Your 
 little girl ordered some dresses, which I shall de- 
 liver to-morrow : they may as well be paid in the same 
 way." 
 
 The advocate began to remonstrate. He would cer- 
 tainly not refuse to pay, only he thought he ought to be 
 consulted in the purchase. He didn't like this way of 
 disposing of his money. 
 
 " What a fellow ! " said the usurer, shrugging his 
 shoulders ; " do you want to make the girl unhappy ? 
 You must keep her in good humor ; think how she might 
 affect the marriage. And you know that, if you need 
 any advances for the wedding, you have but to guaran- 
 tee me. Speak to your notary, and every thing shall be 
 arranged. But I must go. On Monday, then ? " 
 
 Noel watched, to make sure that the usurer had ac- 
 tually gone. When he saw that he was not lingering on 
 the staircase, " Fool ! " he cried, " miserable thieving 
 old skinflint! He is on the wrong track, the track, 
 however, that he himself chose to pursue. It would 
 be a fine thing, if this should get to the count's ears. 
 Miserable usurer! I feared for awhile that I should 
 have to tell him all."
 
 302 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 While inveighing thus against his banker, the advo- 
 cate looked at his watch. 
 
 " Half-past five already," he said. 
 
 His indecision w.as great. Should he dine with his 
 father? Could he leave Madame Gerdy? He longed 
 to dine at the Commarin house ; yet, on the other hand, 
 to leave a dying woman ! 
 
 " Decidedly," he said, " I can't go." 
 
 He sat down at his desk, and with all haste wrote a 
 letter of apology to his father. Madame Gerdy, he 
 wrote, might breathe her last at any moment : he must 
 remain within call. 
 
 After he had bade the servant give the note to a mes- 
 senger, to carry it to the count, a sudden thought oc- 
 curred to him. 
 
 " Does madame's brother," he asked, " know that 
 she is dangerously ill ? " 
 
 " I do not know, monsieur," replied the girl ; " at any 
 rate, it was not my fault." 
 
 " What, did you not think to inform him, in my ab- 
 sence? Run to his house quickly. Have him sought 
 for, if he is not at home ; bring him here." 
 
 More tranquil after that, he went in to sit in the sick 
 room. The lamp was lighted ; and the sister moved back 
 and forth, putting every thing in place, dusting and ar- 
 ranging. She wore an air of satisfaction, that did not 
 escape Noel. 
 
 " Have we any gleam of hope, sister ? " he asked. 
 
 " Perhaps," replied the nun. " The priest has been 
 here, monsieur: your dear mother did not notice his 
 presence ; but he is coming back. That is not all. Since 
 the priest was here, the mustard has taken admirably. 
 The skin is quite reddened. I am sure she feels." 
 
 " God grant it, sister ! "
 
 He went in to sit 
 
 in the sick-room. The lamp was lighted and the 
 sister moved back and forth.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 303 
 
 " Oh, I have already been praying ! But it is im- 
 portant not to leave her alone a minute. I have ar- 
 ranged all with the maid. When the doctor comes, I 
 shall lie down, and she will watch until one in the morn- 
 ing. I will then rise and " 
 
 " You may both go and rest yourselves, sister," inter- 
 rupted Noel. " I shall not be able to sleep : so I will 
 watch all night." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TABARET did not consider himself defeated, because 
 he had been repulsed by the judge of inquiry, when ir- 
 ritated by a long day's examination. You may call it 
 a fault or an accomplishment ; but the old man was more 
 obstinate than a mule. To the excess of despair to which 
 he succumbed in the gallery, there soon succeeded that 
 firm resolution which upheld him in danger. The feel- 
 ing of duty took possession of him. Was that a time 
 to yield to discouraging idleness, when the life of a 
 fellow-man hung on each moment? Inaction would 
 be unpardonable. He had plunged an innocent man 
 into the abyss; and he must draw him out, he alone, 
 if no one would lend their aid. Pere Tabaret, as well 
 as the judge, gave way to weariness. On reaching the 
 open air, he perceived that he, too, had need of rest. 
 The emotions of the day had prevented him from feel- 
 ing hungry ; and, since morning, he had taken nothing 
 but one glass of water. He entered a restaurant on the 
 boulevard, and ordered supper. 
 
 While he ate, not only his courage, but his confidence 
 came insensibly back to him. It was with him, as with 
 the rest of the world : he who does not know how often
 
 304 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 the course of his ideas may change, from the beginning 
 to the end of a repast, should be very modest. A phil- 
 osopher has plainly demonstrated that heroism is but an 
 affair of the stomach. 
 
 The old fellow, looked at the situation in a much less 
 sombre light. Was there not plenty of time before him ? 
 What could not such a man as he do in a month ? Was 
 his usual penetration to fail him now? Certainly not. 
 His great regret was, his inability to let Albert know 
 that some one was working for him. 
 
 He was entirely another man, upon leaving the table ; 
 and it was with a cheerful step that he walked towards 
 the Rue St. Lazare. Nine o'clock sounded, as the por- 
 ter opened the door for him. He jumped up stairs four 
 steps at a time, to receive news of his old friend, of her 
 whom he used formerly to call the excellent, the worthy 
 Madame Gerdy. 
 
 Noel opened the door to him, Noel, who had doubt- 
 less been thinking of the past; for he looked as sad as 
 though the dying woman was really his mother. 
 
 In consequence of this unexpected circumstance, Pere 
 Tabaret for a few moments could not help thinking of 
 certain difficulties which he should experience. 
 
 He knew very well, that, finding himself with the ad- 
 vocate, he would be unavoidably led to speak of the 
 Lerouge affair ; and how could he do this, knowing, as 
 he did, the particulars much better than his young friend 
 himself, without exposing himself to betrayal? But a 
 single imprudent word would reveal the part he was 
 playing in this sad drama. Now it was from his dear 
 Noel, the future Viscount de Commarin, above all 
 others, that he wished entirely to conceal his connection 
 with the police. 
 
 But, on the other hand, he thirsted to know what had
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 305 
 
 passed between the advocate and the count. The single 
 point possessed an interest that aroused his curiosity. 
 At last, as he could not restrain its gratification, he re- 
 solved to keep close wa,tch upon his language and re- 
 main constantly on his guard. 
 
 The advocate took the old man into Madame Gerdy's 
 room. Her condition, since afternoon, had changed 
 a little; it was impossible to say whether for good or 
 bad. One thing was evident, her depression was less 
 profound. Her eyes still remained fixed; but certain 
 quiverings of the lids were evident. She moved on her 
 pillow, and moaned feebly.. 
 
 " What does the doctor say ? " asked Pere Tabaret, 
 in that low whisper one unconsciously takes in a sick 
 room. 
 
 "He is just gone," replied Noel; "before long all 
 will be over." 
 
 The old man advanced on tip-toe, and looked at the 
 dying woman with evident emotion. 
 
 " Poor woman ! " he murmured ; " the good God is 
 merciful in taking her. She perhaps suffers ; but what is 
 this pain, compared to what she would feel if she knew 
 that her son, her true son, was in prison, accused of 
 murder ? " 
 
 " That is what I keep repeating to myself," said Noel, 
 " to console me for this sight ; for I always loved her, 
 my old friend : for me, she is still my mother. You 
 have heard me upbraid her, have you not? I have 
 twice treated her very harshly. I thought I hated her ; 
 but here, at the moment of losing her, I forget every 
 wrong she has done me, only to remember her tender- 
 ness. Yes, much better death for her ! And yet I cannot 
 think, no, I cannot think her son guilty." 
 
 " What ! is it possible, you, too ? "
 
 306 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Pere Tabaret put so much warmth and vivacity into 
 this exclamation, that Noel looked at him with a sort of 
 wonder. He felt the color rising in his cheeks, and he 
 hastened to explain himself. " I said, ' you, too/ " he 
 continued, " because that I, thanks perhaps to my inex- 
 perience, am persuaded of the innocence of this young 
 man. I cannot in the least imagine a man of that rank 
 meditating and accomplishing so cowardly a crime. I 
 have spoken with many persons on this matter which has 
 made so much noise ; and everybody is of my opinion. 
 He has public opinion in his favor ; that is already some- 
 thing." 
 
 Seated near the bed, sufficiently far from the lamp to 
 be in the shadow, the nun hastily knitted stockings des- 
 tined for the poor. It was a purely mechanical work; 
 during which she usually prayed. But, since the en- 
 trance of Pere Tabaret, she forgot, in listening, her ever- 
 lasting prayer. What did this conversation mean ? Who 
 could this woman be? And this young man who was 
 not her son, and who yet called her mother, and at the 
 same time spoke of a veritable son accused of being an 
 assassin ? Before this she had overheard mysterious re- 
 marks between Noel and the doctor. Into what singular 
 house had she fallen ? She was a little afraid ; and her 
 conscience was sorely troubled. Was she not sinning? 
 She resolved to tell all to the priest, when he returned. 
 
 " No," said Noel, " no, Tabaret ; Albert has not 
 public opinion with him. We are sharper than that in 
 France, you must know. When a poor devil is ar- 
 rested, entirely innocent, perhaps, of the crime charged 
 against him, we usually throw stones at him. We keep 
 all our pity for him, who, without doubt the criminal, 
 comes before the court of assizes. As long as justice 
 hesitates, we side with the prosecution against the
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 307 
 
 prisoner. The moment she announces that the man is 
 a criminal, all our sympathies are in favor of acquitting 
 him. That's public opinion. You understand, how- 
 ever, that that affects me but little. I despise it to such 
 an extent, that if, as I dare still hope, Albert is not re- 
 leased, I will be his defender. Yes, I have told my 
 father as much, the Count de Commarin. I will be his 
 advocate ; I will save him." 
 
 Gladly would the old man have thrown himself on 
 Noel's neck. He longed to say to him, " We two will 
 save him." But he restrained himself. Would not 
 the advocate misunderstand him, if he confessed? He 
 resolved, however, to reveal all if it became necessary, 
 and if Albert's interests took a more dangerous turn. 
 For the present, he contented himself with strongly 
 approving his young friend. 
 
 " Bravo ! my child," said he ; " you have a noble 
 heart. I feared to see you spoiled by wealth and rank. 
 Pardon me; you remain, I see, what you have always 
 been in your humble position. But, tell me, have you, 
 then, seen your father, the count ? " 
 
 Now, for the first time, Noel seemed to notice the 
 eyes of the sister ; which, lighted by eager curiosity, 
 glittered in the shadow like carbuncles. By a look, he 
 pointed her out to the old man, and said, 
 
 " I have seen him ; and every thing is arranged to 
 my satisfaction. I will tell you all, in detail, by-and- 
 by, when we are more by ourselves. By this bedside, I 
 almost blush at my happiness." 
 
 Tabaret was obliged to content himself with this re- 
 ply and this promise. Seeing that he should learn 
 nothing this evening, he spoke of going to bed, declar- 
 ing himself wearied out, as the result of certain things 
 he had had to do during the day. Noel did not urge
 
 3 o8 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 his remaining. He himself was waiting, he said, for 
 Madame Gerdy's brother, who had been sent for sev- 
 eral times without finding him in. He would be much 
 embarrassed, he added, in this brother's presence; he 
 did not yet know what conduct he ought to pursue. 
 Should he tell him all? But that would only increase 
 his grief. On the other hand, silence obliged him to 
 play a difficult part. The old man advised him to keep 
 silent, to put off all explanation until later. 
 
 " What a fine fellow is this Noel ! " murmured Pere 
 Tabaret, on gaining his apartments as gently as pos- 
 sible. * 
 
 He had been absent from home twenty-four hours; 
 and he had to go through a formidable scene with his 
 household. Mannette was in a particularly bad humor : 
 so she declared decidedly, and once for all, that she 
 would get a new place, if her master did not change his 
 conduct. 
 
 She had remained awake all night, in a terrible 
 fright, listening to the least sound on the stairway, ex- 
 pecting to see her master brought home on a litter, as- 
 sassinated. Then there had been great commotion in 
 the house. M. Gerdy had gone out a short time after 
 monsieur, and had returned two hours later. After he 
 had come in, there had been constant inquiries for the 
 doctor. Such goings on would be the death of her, 
 without forgetting her temperament, which could not 
 endure these constant worries. But Mannette forgot 
 that the worry was not on her master's account nor 
 on Noel's but for a little affair of her own, one of 
 those handsome guards of Paris having promised to 
 marry her, but for whom she had waited in vain, the 
 rascal ! 
 
 She burst forth in reproaches, while she was laying
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 309 
 
 the table for her master, too frank, she declared, to 
 keep any thing on her mind, and keep her mouth closed, 
 when she felt so much interest in monsieur, in his 
 health and reputation. Monsieur made no reply, not 
 being, in the mood for argument. He bent his head to 
 the squall, turning his back to the storm. But, when 
 Mannette had finished her preparations, he shoved her 
 out of the room without ceremony, and double locked 
 the door. 
 
 He busied himself in forming a new line of battle, 
 and in deciding upon prompt and active measures. 
 Rapidly he analyzed the situation. Had he been de- 
 ceived in his investigations? No. Had his calcula- 
 tions of probabilities been erroneous? No. He had 
 started with a positive fact, the murder. He had dis- 
 covered the particulars ; his inferences were correct, 
 and must inevitably point at a criminal such as he had 
 indicated: and this criminal could not be Monsieur 
 Daburon's prisoner. His confidence in a judicial axiom 
 had led him astray, when he pointed out Albert. 
 
 " See," thought he, " where their standard opinions 
 and absurd axioms, all cut and dried, lead us, when 
 they are foolishly followed, like the landmarks on a 
 road ! Left free to my own inspirations, I formed this 
 case very profoundly. I did not trust to chance. The 
 formula, ' Seek out the one whom the crime benefits ' 
 may be as often absurd as true. The heirs of a man 
 assassinated are in reality all benefited by a murder; 
 while the assassin receives at most the watch or purse 
 of the victim. Three persons were interested in the 
 death of the Widow Lerouge, Albert, Madame Gerdy, 
 and the Count de Commarin. It is plain to see that 
 Albert is not the criminal. It is not Madame Gerdy, 
 who has been killed by the unexpected announcement
 
 3 io THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 of the crime. There remains, then, the count. Can it 
 be he? He certainly did not do it himself. He hired 
 some wretch, a wretch of good position, if you please, 
 wearing well-varnished boots of a good make, and 
 smoking trabucos with an amber mouth-piece. These 
 villains of good position ordinarily lack nerve. They 
 cheat, they forge ; but they don't assassinate. But jiere 
 the count would simply exchange a rabbit for a hare. 
 He would merely substitute one accomplice for another 
 still more dangerous. That would be idiotic; and the 
 count is an intelligent man. He is, therefore, out of 
 the question. I shall have to start off on another tack. 
 
 " Another thing, the Widow Lerouge, who so dex- 
 terously exchanged the children while nursing them, 
 would be very likely to undertake a number of danger- 
 ous commissions. Who can prove that she has not 
 made it, before now, the interest of some one else to get 
 her out of the way? There is a mystery here. I am 
 impatient ; but I have not yet unraveled it. One thing 
 is sure though, she was not assassinated to prevent 
 Noel from recovering his rights. She must have been 
 suppressed for some analogous reason, by a bold, ex- 
 perienced scoundrel, who wore the clothing I fixed 
 upon Albert. It is, then, this scent I must follow. 
 And, above all, I must have the past history of this 
 obliging widow : and I will have it, too ; for the in- 
 vestigations ordered at her birthplace will be in court 
 to morrow." 
 
 Returning now to Albert, Pere Tabaret weighed the 
 charges which were brought against the young man, 
 and reckoned the chances which he still had. 
 
 " From the look of things," he murmured, " I see 
 only luck and myself ; that is to say, absolutely nothing 
 in his favor at present. As to the charges, they are
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 31 
 
 countless. However, it is no use going over them. 
 It is I who amassed them ; and I know what they are 
 worth! At once every thing and nothing. What do 
 signs prove, however striking they may be, in this case, 
 where one ought to disbelieve even the witness of his 
 own senses ? Albert is a victim of the most remarkable 
 coincidences: but one word might explain them. I 
 have seen many just such cases. It was even worse 
 in the affair of my little tailor. At five o'clock, he 
 bought a knife, which he showed to ten of his friends, 
 saying, this is for my wife, who is an idle jade, and 
 who plays me false with my servants. In the evening, 
 the neighbor heard a terrible quarrel betw.een the cou- 
 ple, cries, threats, stamping, blows; then suddenly 
 all was quiet. The next day, the tailor had disap- 
 peared from his house ; and they discovered the woman 
 dead, with the very same knife buried to the hilt be- 
 tween her shoulders. Ah, well! it turned out it was 
 not the husband who had planted it there; it was a jeal- 
 ous lover. After that, what is to be believed ? Albert, 
 it is true, will not give an account of how he passed the 
 evening. That does not affect me. The question for 
 me is not to prove where he was but that he was not at 
 Jonchere. Perhaps, after all, Gevrol was on the right 
 track. I hope so, from the bottom of my heart. Yes ; 
 God grant that he may be successful. My vanity and 
 my mad presumption will deserve the slight punish- 
 ment of his triumph over me. What would I not give 
 to establish this man's innocence? Half of my fortune 
 would be but a small sacrifice. If I should be foiled ; 
 if, after having caused the evil, I should find myself 
 powerless to undo it ! " 
 
 Pere Tabaret went to bed, shuddering at this last 
 thought. He fell asleep, and had a terrible nightmare.
 
 312 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Lost in that vulgar crowd, which, on the days when 
 society revenges itself, presses about the Place de la 
 Roquette and watches the last convulsions of one con- 
 demned to death, he attended Albert's execution. He 
 saw the unhappy boy, his hands bound behind his back, 
 his collar turned down, ascend, supported by a priest, 
 the steep flight of stairs leading to the scaffold. He 
 saw him upright upon the fatal platform, throwing his 
 pious gaze upon the dismayed assembly. Soon the 
 eyes of the condemned man met his own; and, break- 
 ing his cords, he pointed him, Tabaret/out in the crowd 
 saying, in a loud voice, " There is my assassin." Then, 
 a great clamor arose to curse him. He wished to es- 
 cape ; but his feet were nailed to the ground. He tried 
 to close his eyes; he could not. A force unknown 
 and irresistible compelled him to look. Then Albert 
 again cried out, " I am innocent ; the guilty one is " 
 He pronounced some name: the crowd repeated the 
 name; and he alone did not understand it. Finally 
 the head of the condemned man fell. 
 
 The old man gave a loud cry, and awoke in a cold 
 perspiration. It took him some time to convince him- 
 self that nothing was real of this which he had felt 
 and seen and that he was actually in his own house, in 
 his own bed : it was only a dream ! But dreams some- 
 times are, they say, warnings from heaven. His im- 
 agination was in that excited condition that he made 
 unheard of efforts to recall the name of the criminal 
 pronounced by Albert. Not succeeding, he got up and 
 lighted his candle. The darkness made him afraid. 
 The night peoples itself with phantoms. It was no 
 longer with him a question of sleep. Beset with these 
 anxieties, he accused himself most severely, and
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 313 
 
 harshly reproached the occupation he had until now so 
 delighted in. Poor humanity ! 
 
 He was mad to fix the day when it first came into his 
 head to seek employment in the Rue Benjamin Frere 
 noble hobby, truly, for a man of his age, a good quiet 
 citizen of Paris, rich and esteemed by all ! And to 
 think that he had been proud of his exploits, that he had 
 boasted of his cunning, that he had plumed himself on his 
 keenness of scent, that he had been flattered by that 
 ridiculous soubriquet " Tirauclair." Old fool ! What 
 had he gained from the business of bloodhound? All 
 sorts of annoyance, the contempt of the world, without 
 counting the danger of contributing to the conviction of 
 an innocent man. Why had he not taken warning by 
 the case of the little tailor ? 
 
 Recalling the few satisfactions of the past, and com- 
 paring them with the present anguish, he resolved that 
 he would have no more to do with it. Albert once 
 saved, he would seek some amusement less dangerous, 
 and more generally appreciated. He would break the 
 connection of which he was ashamed, and the police 
 and justice might go on without him. 
 
 At last the day, which he had awaited with feverish 
 impatience, dawned. To pass the time, he dressed 
 himself slowly, with much care, trying to occupy his 
 mind with little details, until an hour had passed; du- 
 ring which he had looked twenty times at the clock, to 
 see if it had not stopped. In spite of all this delay, it 
 was not eight o'clock when he caused himself to be an- 
 nounced at the judge's door, praying him to excuse, on 
 account of the importance of his business, a visit too 
 early not to be unwelcome. 
 
 Excuses were superfluous. They did not disturb
 
 3H THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Monsieur Daburon at eight in the morning. Already 
 he was at work. He received, with his usual kindness, 
 the old amateur detective, and even joked with him a 
 little on his absurdity of the night before. Who would 
 have thought his nerves so sensitive? Doubtless the 
 night had brought deliberation. Had he recovered hia 
 old good sense? or had he put his hand on the true 
 criminal ? 
 
 This trifling tone in a magistrate, who was accused 
 of being grave even to a fault, troubled the old man. 
 Did not this quizzing hide a determination to neglect 
 all that he could say ? He believed it did ; and it was 
 without the least deception that he commenced his 
 pleading. 
 
 He put the case more calmly this time, but with all 
 the energy of a well-digested conviction. He ad- 
 dressed himself to the heart, he spoke to the reason ; 
 but, although doubt is essentially contagious, he neither 
 succeeded in convincing the judge, nor shaking his 
 opinion. His strongest arguments were of no more 
 avail against Daburon's absolute conviction than bul- 
 lets of crumbs of bread against a breastplate. And, at 
 his failure, he was in no way surprised. 
 
 Pere Tabaret had on his side only a subtle theory, 
 words; Daburon possessed palpable testimony, facts. 
 And such was this cause, that all the reasons brought 
 forward by the old man to justify Albert simply reacted 
 upon him, and confirmed his guilt. 
 
 A repulse at the judge's hands had entered too much 
 into Tabaret's calculations for him to appear troubled 
 or discouraged. He declared that, for the present, he 
 would insist no more: he had full confidence in the 
 wisdom and impartiality of the judge of inquiry. It 
 sufficed him to have put him on his guard against the
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 315 
 
 influences which he himself had unfortunately used in 
 working up the case. 
 
 He was going, he added, to busy himself with hunt- 
 ing up " new signs." They were only at the beginning 
 of the inquiry; and they were yet ignorant of very 
 many things, even of the past life of the Widow Le- 
 rouge. New facts may come to light. Who knows 
 what testimony the man with the rings in his ears, who 
 was now being pursued by Gevrol, may give. All en- 
 raged within, and longing to injure in some way the 
 " idiot magistrate," as he called the judge, Pere Tab- 
 aret forced himself to be humble and polite. He wished, 
 he said, to keep track of the examination, and to be 
 informed of the result of future investigations. He 
 finally ended by asking permission to communicate with 
 Albert. He thought his services deserved this slight 
 favor. He wished an interview of only ten minutes 
 without witnesses. 
 
 Daburon refused this request. He declared, that, 
 for the present, the prisoner must continue to remain 
 strictly in solitary confinement. 
 
 As a sort of consolation, he added that, in three or 
 four days, he might perhaps be able to change this de- 
 cision, provided the motives which caused it no longer 
 existed. 
 
 " Your refusal is cruel, monsieur," said Pere Tab- 
 aret ; " but I understand it, and obey." 
 
 That was his only complaint; and he withdrew al- 
 most immediately, fearing that he could no longer mas- 
 ter his irritation. 
 
 He felt, that, besides the great happiness of saving 
 an innocent man, compromised by his imprudence, he 
 should experience an unspeakable delight in avenging 
 himself upon the stubbornness of the judge.
 
 316 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Three or four days," he muttered, " that is to say, 
 three or four years for the unfortunate prisoner. He 
 speaks quite at his ease, this kind magistrate. But 
 Albert ought to know the truth now." 
 
 Yes, Daburon only asked three or four days to wring 
 a confession from Albert, or at least to make him 
 change his system of defence. 
 
 The difficulty of the prosecution was in not being 
 able to produce any witness who had seen the prisoner 
 on the evening of Shrove Tuesday. 
 
 One deposition alone to that effect would have so 
 great weight, that Daburon, upon Tabaret's departure, 
 turned all his efforts in that direction. 
 
 He had great hope yet. It was now only Saturday. 
 The day of the murder was remarkable enough to fix 
 people's memories ; and there had not been time yet to 
 set on foot a proper investigation. 
 
 Five of the most experienced spies in the secret ser- 
 vice were sent to Bougival, supplied with photographs 
 of Albert. They were to scour the entire country be- 
 tween Reuil and Jonchere, to hunt, inquire into, and 
 examine, to obtain the most precise and the most min- 
 ute information. The photographs would greatly aid 
 their efforts. They had orders to show them every- 
 where and to everybody, and even to leave a dozen in 
 the place, being furnished with a sufficient number to 
 do so. It was impossible, that, on an evening when so 
 many people were about, no one had observed the or- 
 iginal of the picture either at the station at Reuil or 
 upon one of the roads which led to Jonchere, the 
 highway, or the road by the water's edge. 
 
 These arrangements made, the judge of inquiry pro- 
 ceeded to the palais de justice, and sent for his prisoner. 
 
 He had already in the morning received a report, in-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 forming him hour by hour of the deeds, gestures, and 
 utterances of the prisoner, carefully watched. Nothing 
 in him, the report said, declared the criminal. He ap- 
 peared sad, but not despairing. He had not cried out, 
 nor threatened, nor cursed at justice, nor even spoke 
 of the fatal deed. After having eaten lightly, he went 
 to the window of his cell, and had there remained 
 standing for more than an hour. Then he laid down, 
 and had quietly gone to sleep. 
 
 " What an iron constitution ! " thought Daburon, 
 when the prisoner entered his office. 
 
 Albert was no longer the despairing man, who the 
 night before, dizzy with the multiplicity of charges, 
 overcome by the rapidity of the blows, had writhed 
 beneath the gaze of the judge of inquiry, and appeared 
 ready to faint. Innocent or guilty, his course had been 
 taken; his face left no doubt of that. His eyes ex- 
 pressed that resolution, careless of a sacrifice freely 
 made, and a certain haughtiness which might be taken 
 for disdain, but which expressed the noble feeling of an 
 injured man. In him was seen a man self-reliant, 
 who might be shaken but never overcome by misfor- 
 tune. 
 
 At this countenance, the judge knew that he must 
 change his mode of attack. He recognized one of those 
 natures, which attacked, was only provoked to resist- 
 ance, and, threatened, was only rendered obstinate. Re- 
 nouncing his efforts to frighten, he attempted to soften 
 him. It was a hackneyed trick, but one always suc- 
 cessful, like certain pathetic scenes at theatres. The 
 criminal who has girt up his energy to sustain the 
 shock of intimidation, finds himself without defence 
 against the wheedling of kindness, the greater in pro- 
 portion to its lack of sincerity. Now tenderness would
 
 3i8 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 cause Daburon's triumph. What an avowal he knew 
 would burst forth in tears ! No one knew so well as he 
 how to touch the cords which vibrate still even in the 
 most abandoned heart, honor, love, family. 
 
 To Albert, he became kind and friendly, full of the 
 liveliest compassion. Unfortunate man I how much he 
 had had to suffer, he whose whole life had been like 
 one long enchantment. How every thing had fallen 
 about him in ruins, at a single blow ! Who could have 
 foreseen all this in the time when he was the one hope 
 of a wealthy and illustrious house ! Calling up the past, 
 the judge pictured to him the most touching reminis- 
 cences of his early youth, and stirred up the ashes of 
 all his extinct affections. Using and abusing all that 
 he knew of the life of the prisoner, he martyred himcsL" 
 by the most mournful allusions to Claire. How could 
 he persist in bearing alone his great misfortune? Had 
 he no one in the world who would deem it happiness 
 to share his sufferings? Why this morose silence? 
 Should he not rather hasten to rescue her whose very 
 life depended upon his? What was necessary to that 
 end? But a single word. Then he would be, if not 
 free, at least returned to the world. His prison would 
 become an habitable abode, no longer solitary; his 
 friends would visit him : he might receive whomever he 
 saw fit. 
 
 It was no longer a judge who spoke ; it was a father, 
 who still keeps in his heart indulgence for his son. 
 
 Daburon went on. He would for a moment imagine 
 himself in Albert's position. What would be his con- 
 dition after the terrible discovery? He would scarcely 
 dare question himself. He would dwell upon the mur- 
 der of the Widow Lerouge ; he would explain it to him- 
 self ; he would almost excuse it. (Another trap.) It
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 319 
 
 was certainly an enormous crime, but not one revolt- 
 ing to conscience or to reason. It was one of those crimes 
 which society might, if not forget, at least forgive up 
 to a certain point, because the motive was not a dis- 
 graceful one. What tribunal would fail to find extenu- 
 ating circumstances for a moment of frenzy so excus- 
 able? For was not the first the greatest criminal, the 
 Count de Commarin ? Was it not his folly that prepared 
 the way for this terrible denouement ? His son had been 
 the victim of a fatality, and was in tLe highest degree to 
 be pitied. 
 
 Upon this text, Daburon spoke for a long time, seek- 
 ing those things most suitable in his opinion to soften 
 the hardened heart of the assassin. And he arrived al- 
 ways, at the same conclusion, the wisdom of confess- 
 ing. But he wasted his eloquence precisely as Tabaret 
 had wasted his. Albert appeared in no way affected. 
 His replies were of the shortest. He began and ended 
 as at first, in protesting his innocence. 
 
 One test, which had often given the desired result, 
 now remained to be tried. 
 
 On this same day, Saturday, Albert was confronted 
 with the corpse of the Widow Lerouge. He appeared 
 impressed by the sad sight, but no more than any one 
 would be, if forced to look at the victim of an assassina- 
 tion four days after the crime. One of the bystanders 
 exclaiming, 
 
 " Ah, if she could but speak ! " he replied, " That 
 would be great good fortune for me." 
 
 Since morning, Daburon had not obtained the least 
 advantage. He had to acknowledge the failure of his 
 plot; and here this last triumph had grounded. The 
 unmoved calmness of the prisoner filled to overflowing 
 the exasperation of this man so sure of his facts. His
 
 320 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 spite was evident to all, when, dropping suddenly his 
 wheedling, he harshly gave the orders to re-conduct the 
 prisoner to his cell. 
 
 " I will compel him to confess/' he ground between 
 his teeth. 
 
 Perhaps he regretted those gentle instruments of 
 investigation of the middle ages, which compelled the 
 prisoner to say whatever they wanted him to. Never, 
 thought he, did any one ever meet a prisoner like this. 
 What could he reasonably hope for from this system 
 of persistent denial? This obstinacy, absurd in the 
 presence of absolute proofs, drove the judge into a 
 rage. Albert, confessing his guilt, would have found 
 him disposed to pity; denying it, he opposed himself 
 to an implacable enemy. 
 
 It was the very falseness of the situation which misled 
 and blinded this magistrate, naturally so kind and gen- 
 erous. Having previously wished Albert innocent, he 
 now absolutely longed to prove him guilty, and that for 
 a hundred reasons which he was unable to analyse. He 
 remembered, too, his having had the Viscount de Com- 
 marin for a rival, and his having nearly assassinated 
 him. Had he not repented even with remorse his hav- 
 ing signed the warrant of arrest, and accepted the duty 
 of investigation? Tabaret's incomprehensible change 
 troubled him, too. 
 
 All these feelings, combined, inspired Daburon with 
 a feverish hatred, urging him on in the path which 
 he had chosen. In future, it would be less the proofs 
 of Albert's guilt which he sought for than the justifi- 
 cation of his own conduct to himself as judge. The in- 
 vestigation rankled, as if it were a personal matter. 
 
 In fact, were the prisoner innocent, he would become 
 inexcusable in his own eyes; and, in proportion as he
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 321 
 
 reproached himself the* more severely, and as the feel- 
 ings of his own wrongs grew, he was the more disposed 
 to try every thing to conquer this ancient rival, even 
 to abusing his own power. The logic of events urged 
 him on. It seemed as though his honor itself were at 
 stake; and he displayed a passionate activity, such as 
 had never been seen before in any investigation. 
 
 All Sunday, Daburon passed in listening to the re- 
 ports of his agents at Bougival. 
 
 They had spared no trouble, they stated; but they 
 could report no new developments. 
 
 They had heard many speak of a woman, who had 
 pretended, they said, id have seen the assassin leaving 
 the Widow Lerouge's house; but no one had been able 
 to point this woman out to them, or even to give them 
 her name. 
 
 But they all thought it their duty to inform the judge 
 that another inquiry was going on at the same time 
 with theirs. It was under the charge of Pere Tabaret, 
 who personally scoured the country in all directions 
 in a cabriolet drawn by a very swift horse. He must 
 have acted with great promptness ; for, everywhere 
 that they presented themselves, he had anticipated them. 
 He appeared to have under his orders a dozen men, 
 four of whom at least certainly belonged to the Rue 
 Jerusalem. All the agents had met him ; and he had 
 spoken to all of them. To one, he had said, 
 
 " What the devil are you showing this photograph 
 for? In less than no time you will pick up a witness, 
 who, to gain three francs, will describe some one more 
 like the picture than the picture itself." 
 
 He had met another agent on the road, and had 
 laughed at him. 
 
 " You are a simple fellow," he cried out to him, " to
 
 322 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 hunt for a hiding man in the highway; look a little 
 aside, and you may find him." 
 
 Finally he had accosted two who were together in a 
 cafe at Bougival, and had taken them aside. 
 
 " I have him," he said to them. " He is a smart 
 fellow; he passed by Chatois. Three people have seen 
 him, two railway employes, and a third person whose 
 testimony will be decisive; for she spoke to him. He 
 was smoking." 
 
 Daburon was so angry at this with Pere Tabaret, 
 that, on the instant he started for Bougival, firmly re- 
 solved to bring this too zealous man back to Paris and to 
 give him some occupation more in the interests of jus- 
 tice. This trip was useless. Tabaret, cabriolet, swift 
 horse, and the twelve men had all disappeared, or at 
 least were not to be found. 
 
 On returning home, much fatigued and very angry, 
 the judge of inquiry found the following despatch 
 from the chief of the detective force ; it was brief, and 
 to the point, 
 
 " ROUEN, Sunday. 
 
 " The man is found. This evening we start for Paris. 
 The most valuable testimony. GEVROL." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MONDAY morning, at nine o'clock, Daburon was pre- 
 paring to start for the palais de justice, where he ex- 
 pected to find Gevrol and his man, and perhaps Pere 
 Tabaret. 
 
 His preparations were nearly made, when his ser- 
 vant announced that a young lady, accompanied by an- 
 other more elderly, asked to speak with him.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 323 
 
 She declined giving her name, saying, however, that 
 she would not refuse it, if that was absolutely neces- 
 sary in order to be received. 
 
 " Let her enter," said the judge. 
 
 He thought it might be a relation of some one of the 
 prisoners, with whose business he had been employed be- 
 fore the Jonchere crime occurred. He determined to 
 make short work of her, if she were troublesome. 
 
 He was standing before his mantel, hunting for an 
 address in a plate filled with visiting cards. At the 
 sound of the opening of the door, at the rustling of a 
 silk dress gliding by the window, he did not take the 
 trouble to move, did not deign even to turn his head. 
 He contented himself w.ith merely casting a careless 
 glance into the mirror. 
 
 But he immediately started with a movement of dis- 
 may, as if he had seen a ghost. In his confusion, he 
 dropped the card-plate, which fell noisily to the hearth, 
 and broke into a thousand pieces. 
 
 " Claire," he stammered, " Claire ! " 
 
 And, as if he feared equally either his being deceived 
 by an illusion or the actually seeing her whose name he 
 pronounced, he turned slowly. 
 
 It was truly Mademoiselle d'Arlanges. 
 
 This young girl, usually so proud and reserved, had 
 had courage to come to his house alone, or almost 
 alone ; for her governess, whom she had left in the ante- 
 chamber, counted as no one. She was obeying some 
 powerful emotion ; since it made her forget her habitual 
 timidity. 
 
 Never, even in the time when a sight of her was his 
 greatest happiness, had she appeared more fascinating. 
 Her beauty, ordinarily veiled by a sweet sadness, 
 beamed forth, and dazzled him. Her features had an
 
 324 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 animation which he had never seen in them before. In 
 her eyes, rendered more brilliant by recent tears, even 
 now hardly wiped away, shone the noblest resolution. 
 One could see that she was conscious of having a great 
 duty to perform, and that she would accomplish it, if 
 not with pleasure, at least with that simplicity which 
 in her was heroism. 
 
 She advanced calm and dignified, and held out her 
 hand to the magistrate in that English style that some 
 ladies can imitate so gracefully. 
 
 "We have always been friends, have we not?" she 
 said with a sad smile. 
 
 The magistrate did not dare take the ungloved hand 
 she held out to him. It was as much as he dared to 
 touch the end of her fingers, as if he feared too great 
 an emotion. 
 
 " Yes," he replied indistinctly, " I have been always 
 devoted to you." 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges sat down in the easy chair, 
 where, two nights previously Pere Tabaret had planned 
 Albert's arrest. 
 
 " Do you know why I have come ? " asked the young 
 girl. 
 
 With a nod, he replied in the affirmative. 
 
 He divined her object only too easily; and he was 
 asking himself, in fact, whether he ought to resist 
 prayers from such a mouth. What could she ask that he 
 would have the heart to refuse ? Ah, if he had foreseen 
 this! 
 
 " I only knew of this dreadful story yesterday," pur- 
 sued Claire ; " they considered it wise to hide it from 
 me ; and, but for my devoted Schmidt, I should yet be 
 ignorant of it all. What a night have I passed ! I was 
 at first terrified; but, when they told me that all de-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 325 
 
 pended upon you, my fears were dispelled. It is for my 
 sake, is it not ? that you have taken charge of this trial ? 
 Oh, you are a noble man ! How can I ever express my 
 thanks ! " 
 
 What humiliation for the honest magistrate were 
 these heartfelt thanks ! Yes, he had at first thought of 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges: but since He bowed his 
 head, to avoid that beautiful sight of Claire, so pure, so 
 daring. 
 
 " Do not thank me, mademoiselle," he stammered ; 
 " I have not the claim that you think upon your grat- 
 itude." 
 
 Claire had already noticed the magistrate's agitation. 
 The trembling of his voice attracted her attention ; but 
 she did not suspect the cause. She thought that her 
 presence recalled sad memories, that^he doubtless still 
 loved her, and that he was suffering for her. This idea 
 saddened her, and filled her with self-reproach. 
 
 " And yet, monsieur," she continued, " I thank you 
 all the same. I should never have dared go to another 
 judge, to speak to an entire stranger ! For what value 
 would he attach to my words, not knowing me ? While 
 you, you, so generous, will reassure me, will tell me 
 by what unhappy mistake he has been arrested and put 
 in prison." 
 
 " Alas ! " sighed the magistrate so low that Claire 
 scarcely heard or understood the terrible meaning of 
 the exclamation. 
 
 " With you," she continued, " I do not fear. You 
 are my friend, you have told me ; you will not refuse 
 my prayers. Give him his liberty quickly. I do not 
 know exactly of what he is accused ; but I swear to you 
 that he is innocent." 
 
 Claire spoke in the positive manner of one who saw
 
 326 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 no obstacle in the way to the very simple and natural 
 desire which she had expressed. A formal assurance 
 given by her ought to be amply sufficient; in a word, 
 Daburon was to repair every thing. The judge was 
 silent. He admired this saint-like ignorance of every 
 thing, this artless and frank confidence which doubted 
 nothing. She had commenced by wounding him inad- 
 vertently, it is true; but he quite forgot that. 
 
 He was really honest, good as the best, as is proved 
 from the fact, that, at the moment of unveiling the fatal 
 truth, he shuddered. He hesitated to pronounce the 
 words whose breath, like a whirlwind, would overturn 
 the fragile edifice of this young girl's happiness. Hu- 
 miliated, despised, he w r as going to have his revenge; 
 but it brought him no satisfaction. 
 
 " And if I should tell you, mademoiselle," he com- 
 menced, " that Albert is not innocent " 
 
 She half-raised herself with a protesting gesture. He 
 continued, 
 
 " If I should tell you he is guilty? " 
 
 " O monsieur ! " interrupted Claire, " you cannot 
 think it." 
 
 " I do think it, mademoiselle," continued the magis- 
 trate in a sad voice ; " and I must add that I am morally 
 certain of it." 
 
 Claire looked at the magistrate with profound 
 amazement. Can this really be he who is speaking to 
 her? Did she hear him aright? Did she understand? 
 She was really in doubt. Had he answered seriously? 
 Was he not abusing her by an unworthy, cruel jest ? She 
 asked herself this with a sort of wildness; for every 
 thing appeared possible, probable, rather than that 
 which he had spoken.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 327 
 
 Not daring to raise his eyes he continued in a tone, 
 expressive of the sincerest pity, 
 
 " I suffer cruelly for you at this moment, mademoi- 
 selle ; but I have the sad courage to tell you the truth, 
 and you must summon yours to hear it. Much better 
 that you should know all from the mouth of a friend. 
 Summon, then, all your fortitude; strengthen your 
 noble soul against a most dreadful misfortune. No, 
 there is no mistake. Justice has not been deceived. 
 The Viscount de Commarin is accused of an assassina- 
 tion ; and it is absolutely absolutely, understand me 
 proved that he committed it." 
 
 Like a doctor, who pours out drop by drop a danger- 
 ous medicine, Daburon pronounced slowly, word by 
 word this last sentence. He watched carefully the re- 
 sult, ready to cease, if the shock was too great. He did 
 not suppose that this young girl, timid to excess, with 
 a sensitiveness almost a disease, would be able to hear 
 without flinching such a revelation. He expected a 
 burst of despair, tears, distressing cries. She might 
 perhaps faint away ; and he stood ready to call in the 
 good Schmidt. 
 
 He was deceived. Claire drew herself up full of 
 energy and valor. The flame of indignation flushed 
 her cheeks, and dried her tears. 
 
 " It is false," she cried ; " and those who say it are 
 liars. He cannot be ; no he cannot be an assassin. If 
 he were here, and should himself say, ' It is true,' I 
 should refuse to believe it : I should still cry out, ' It is 
 false.' " 
 
 " He has not yet confessed it," continued the judge; 
 " but he will confess it : and, if not, there are more 
 proofs than are needed to convict him. The charges
 
 328 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 against him are as impossible to deny as is the sun 
 which shines upon us." 
 
 " Ah ! well," interrupted Mademoiselle d'Arlanges, 
 in a voice which thrilled his soul, " I assert, I repeat, 
 that justice is deceived. Yes," she persisted, stopping 
 a gesture of denial from the judge, " yes, he is in- 
 nocent. I am sure of it; and I will proclaim it, even 
 were the whole world to join with you in accusing him. 
 Do you not see that I understand him better than he 
 can understand himself? that my faith in him is ab- 
 solute, as that which I have in God ? that I would doubt 
 myself before doubting him ? " 
 
 The judge of inquiry attempted timidly to make an 
 objection. Claire interrupted him, 
 
 " You force me, then, monsieur," said she, " in order 
 to overcome you, to forget that I am a young girl, and 
 that I am not talking to my mother but to a man. For 
 his sake, I can bear it ! It is four years, monsieur, since 
 we first loved, and told each other of it. Since that 
 time, I have not kept from him one of my thoughts : he 
 has not hid from me one of his. For four years, we 
 have never had a secret between us : he lived in me, as 
 I lived in him. I alone can say how worthy he is to 
 be loved; I alone know all that grandeur of soul, no- 
 bility of thought, generosity of sentiment, from which 
 you have so easily made an assassin. And I have seen 
 him, oh ! so unhappy, while all the world envied his lot. 
 He was like me, alone in the world ; his father never 
 loved him. Sustained one by the other, we have passed 
 many a sad day ; and it is at the very moment our trial 
 was ending that he has become a criminal. . Why ? tell 
 me why? " 
 
 " Neither the name nor fortune of the Count de 
 Commarin would descend to him, mademoiselle; and
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 329 
 
 the knowledge of it came upon him with a sudden 
 shock. One old woman alone was able to prove this. 
 To protect his position, he killed her." 
 
 " What infamous," cried the young girl, " what 
 shameful, wicked calumny ! I know, monsieur, this 
 story of falling greatness; he himself told me of it. 
 It is true that for three days this misfortune un- 
 manned him ; but, if he was dismayed, it was on my ac- 
 count more than his own. He was distressed at think- 
 ing that perhaps I should be grieved, when he confessed 
 to me that he could no longer give me all that his love 
 dreamed of. I grieved ? Ah ! what to me is this great 
 name, this immense wealth? I owe to them all the un- 
 happiness of my life. Was it, then, for their sake that 
 I loved him ? It was thus that I replied to him ; and he, 
 so sad, immediately recovered his gayety. He thanked 
 me, saying, ' You love me ; the rest is of no conse- 
 quence.' I chided him, then, for having doubted me; 
 and, after that, would he thus cowardly assassinate an 
 old woman? You dare not repeat it." 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges ceased, a smile of victory 
 on her lips. That smile meant, " At last I have attained 
 my end : you are conquered ; what can you reply to all 
 that I have said ? " 
 
 The judge of inquiry did not long leave this smiling 
 illusion to the unhappy child. He did not perceive 
 the cruelty, the shock of his persistence. Always the 
 one idea. In persuading Claire, he would justify his 
 own conduct to himself. 
 
 " You do not know, mademoiselle," he continued, 
 "what giddiness may overthrow the reason of an honest 
 man. It is only at the time a thing escapes us that we 
 feel the greatness of the loss. God keep me from doubt- 
 ing all that which you have said ! but picture to yourself
 
 330 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 the immensity of the blow which has fallen upon M. 
 de Commarin. Think of the despair to which he was 
 driven on leaving you, and the extremities to which it 
 might lead him ! He might have had a moment of 
 wildness, and have done the deed without perceiving 
 its enormity. In this way the crime may be explained." 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges' face grew deathly pale, 
 and betrayed the utmost terror. The judge saw that at 
 last doubt began to affect her noble and pure thoughts. 
 
 " He might, then, have been mad," she murmured. 
 
 "Possibly," replied the judge; "but the circum- 
 stances of the crime denote a well-laid plan. Believe 
 me, then, mademoiselle, and do not be too confident. 
 Wait, prayerfully, the issue of this unhappy trial. Lis- 
 ten to my voice; it is that of a friend. You used to 
 have in me the confidence a daughter gives to her 
 father, you have often told me ; do not, then, refuse my 
 advice. Keep silence; wait. Hide your real grief; you 
 may hereafter regret having exposed it. Young, inex- 
 perienced, without a mother, alas ! you have sadly mis- 
 placed your affections." 
 
 " No, monsieur, no," stammered Claire. " Ah ! " 
 she added, " you speak like the rest of the world, the 
 prudent, egotistical world, which I despise and hate." 
 
 " Poor child ! " continued Daburon, pitiless, even in 
 his compassion, " unhappy girl ! this is your first de- 
 ception ! Nothing can be imagined more terrible. Few 
 women would know how to bear it. But you are young ; 
 you are brave ; your life will not be ruined. Hereafter 
 you will feel horrified at this crime. There is no wound, 
 I know by experience, which time does not heal." 
 
 Claire tried to grasp what the judge was saying; 
 but she heard only confused sounds; the meaning en- 
 tirely escaped her.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 331 
 
 " I do not understand, monsieur," she broke in. 
 " What advice, then, would you give me ? " 
 
 " The only one that reason dictates, and that my af- 
 fection for you can suggest, mademoiselle. I speak to 
 you like a tender and devoted brother. I say to you, 
 ' Courage, Claire : give yourself up to the saddest, 
 greatest sacrifice which honor can ask of a young girl. 
 Weep, yes, weep for your deceived love ; but renounce 
 it. Pray heaven to send you forgetfulness. He whom 
 you have loved is no longer worthy of you.' " 
 
 The judge stopped a little frightened. Made- 
 moiselle d'Arlanges had become livid. 
 
 But, although the body failed, the soul still remained 
 firm. 
 
 " You said a moment since," she murmured, " that 
 he might have committed this crime in a moment of dis- 
 traction, in a fit of madness ? " 
 
 "Yes, it is possible." 
 
 " Then, monsieur, not knowing what he did, he is no 
 criminal." 
 
 The judge of inquiry forgot a certain troublesome 
 question which he had put to himself one morning in 
 bed after his sickness. 
 
 " Neither justice nor society, mademoiselle," he re- 
 plied, " can take that into account. To God alone, who 
 sees into the depths of our hearts, it belongs to judge, 
 to decide upon these questions which human justice 
 must pass by. In our sight, M. de Commarin is a 
 criminal. There may be certain extenuating circum- 
 stances to soften the punishment; but the moral stain 
 is the same. Even if he were acquitted, and I hope 
 he may be, but without hope, he will always wear the 
 dishonor, the stain of blood cowardly shed. Then give 
 him up."
 
 332 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges stopped the judge with a 
 look which flashed the -most vivid resentment. 
 
 " Then," she cried, " you counsel me to abandon him 
 in his misfortune. All the world deserts him; and 
 your prudence advises me to act with the world. Men 
 may act thus, they tell me, when one of their friends is 
 ruined; but women never. Look about you; however 
 humiliated, however wretched, however fallen, you 
 always find the wife near, to sustain and console. When 
 the last friend has boldly taken to flight, when the last 
 relation has abandoned you, the wife remains." 
 
 The judge regretted his having been carried away a 
 little too far. Claire's excitement frightened him. He 
 tried in vain to stop her. 
 
 " I may be timid." she continued with increasing en- 
 ergy ; " but I am no coward. I have chosen Albert vol- 
 untarily from all. Whatever happens to him, I will 
 never desert him. No : I will never say, ' I do not know 
 this man.' He would have given me half of his pros- 
 perity,, and of his glory. I will share, whether he ex- 
 pects it or not, half of his shame and misfortune. Be- 
 tween two, the burden will be less weighty. Strike! 
 I will cling so closely to him that no blow can touch 
 him without hurting me, too. You counsel me to for- 
 get him. Teach me, then, how. I forget him ? Could 
 I, if I wished? But I do not wish it. I love him. It 
 is no more in my power to cease loving him than it is 
 to arrest, by the sole effort of my will, the beating of 
 my heart. He is a prisoner, accused of an assassina- 
 tion. So be it. I love him. He is a criminal. What 
 of that? I love him. You condemn, you dishonor 
 him. Condemned, dishonored, I still love him. You 
 will send him to prison. I will follow him ; and in the 
 prison, under the convict's dress I will love him still.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 333 
 
 Let him fall to the bottom of the abyss. I will fall with 
 him. My life is his, at his disposal. No, nothing shall 
 separate us, nothing but death ! And, if he must mount 
 the scaffold, I shall die, I know well, with the blow 
 which fells him." 
 
 Daburon had buried his face in his hands. He would 
 not for worlds have Claire perceive the emotion with 
 which he was affected. 
 
 " How she loves him ! " he thought, " how she loves 
 him!" 
 
 His spirit was sunk in the darkest thoughts. All the 
 stings of jealousy were rending him. 
 
 What would not be his delight, if he were the object of 
 so irresistible a passion as this which shone before him ! 
 What would he not give in return ! He had, too, a 
 young and ardent soul, a burning thirst for love. But 
 who would be thus troubled for him? He was 
 esteemed, respected, perhaps feared, but not loved ; and 
 he never would be. Was he, then, unworthy of it? 
 Why do so many men pass through life destitute of 
 love, while others, the vilest beings sometimes, seem to 
 possess a mysterious power, which charms, seduces, 
 carries away, which inspires in the object of their af- 
 fection a blind, impetuous longing to sacrifice herself 
 for them. Have women, then, no reason nor discern- 
 ment? 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges' silence brought the judge 
 back to himself. He raised his eyes to her. Overcome 
 by the violence of her enthusiasm, she fell back in her 
 chair, and breathed with such difficulty that Daburon 
 feared that she was going to faint. He moved his hand 
 quickly to the bell upon his desk, to summon aid ; but 
 Claire was quicker still, and stopped him. 
 
 "What would you do?" she asked.
 
 334 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " You seemed suffering so/' he stammered, " that 
 j 
 
 " It is nothing, monsieur/' replied she. " I may seem 
 weak ; but it is nothing. I am very strong, believe me, 
 very strong. It is true that I suffer, as I never believed 
 that one could suffer. It is cruel for a young girl to 
 have to do violence to all her feelings. You ought to 
 be satisfied, monsieur. I have torn aside all veils ; and 
 you have read even the inmost recesses of my heart. 
 But I do not regret it ; it was for his sake. That which 
 I do regret is my having lowered myself so far as to 
 defend him ; but he will forgive me that one doubt. 
 Your persistence startled me so. A man like him does 
 not need defence ; his innocence must be proved ; and, 
 God helping me, I will prove it." 
 
 As Claire was half-rising to depart, Daburon de- 
 tained her by a gesture. In his blindness, he thought 
 he would be doing wrong to leave this poor young girl 
 in the slightest way deceived. Having done so much 
 at the beginning, he persuaded himself that his duty 
 bade him go on to the end. He said to himself, in all 
 good faith that thus he should save Claire herself, and 
 spare her in the future from bitter regrets. The sur- 
 geon who has commenced a painful operation does not 
 leave it half-finished because the patient struggles, suf- 
 fers, and cries out. 
 
 " It is painful, mademoiselle, " he began. 
 
 Claire would not let him finish. 
 
 " Enough, monsieur," said she ; " all that you can 
 say will be of no avail. I respect your unhappy con- 
 viction. I ask, in return, the same regard for mine. If 
 you were truly my friend, I should ask you to aid me 
 in the task of saving him, to which I shall devote my- 
 self ; but you, doubtless, are not willing."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 335 
 
 Claire seemed to be continually irritating the un- 
 happy magistrate. With her woman's instinct, she had 
 arrived at the same result as Pere Tabaret with his 
 logic. Women neither analyse nor reason: they feel 
 and think. Instead of discussing, they affirm; and 
 here, perhaps, arises their superiority. As for Claire, 
 Daburon did not feel that she was his enemy ; and yet' 
 she treated him like one. 
 
 The judge of inquiry resented strongly this injury. 
 Annoyed by his scruples of conscience on one side, and 
 by his convictions on the other, tossed about between 
 duty and feelings, embarrassed by the harness of his 
 profession, he was incapable of simple reflection. For 
 three days, he had acted like a stubborn child. Why 
 this obstinacy, which would not admit the possibility of 
 Albert's innocence? Investigations in all cases have 
 the same aim. But he, usually favorable to a prisoner, 
 would not admit for a moment that there might be a 
 mistake in this case. 
 
 " If you knew the proofs which I have in my hand, 
 mademoiselle," he said in a cold tone, which expressed 
 his determination not to give way to anger, " if I should 
 show them to you, you would have no longer a doubt." 
 
 " Speak, monsieur," cried Claire imperiously. 
 
 " You wish it, mademoiselle ? Very well ; I will give 
 you in detail all the charges made by justice. I will 
 explain every thing; you shall know all. But no; why 
 should I harass you with all the proofs? There is 
 one which alone is decisive. The murder was commit- 
 ted on the evening of Shrove Tuesday; and the pris- 
 oner cannot give an account of what he did on that 
 evening. He went out, however, and returned home 
 about two o'clock in the morning, his clothes soiled and 
 torn, his gloves frayed."
 
 336 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Oh ! enough, monsieur enough ! " broke in Claire, 
 whose eyes beamed once more with happiness. " You 
 say it was on Shrove Tuesday evening ? " 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Ah ! I was sure/' she cried triumphantly. " I 
 told you truly that he could not be the criminal." 
 
 She raised her hands; and, from the movement of 
 her lips, it was evident that she was praying. 
 
 The expression of the most perfect trust, represented 
 by some of the Italian painters, illuminated her beauti- 
 ful face; while she gave thanks to God in a burst of 
 thankfulness. 
 
 The magistrate was so disconcerted, that he forgot to 
 admire her. He awaited an explanation. 
 
 " Well ? " he asked impatiently. 
 
 " Monsieur," replied Claire, " if that is your strongest 
 proof, it exists no longer. Albert passed the entire 
 evening you speak of with me." 
 
 " With you? " stammered the judge. 
 
 " Yes, with me, at my house." 
 
 Daburon was stunned. Was he dreaming? His arms 
 fell. 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed, " the viscount was at your 
 house? And your grandmother, your governess, your 
 servants, did they all see him and speak to him ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur ; he came and went away in secret. 
 He wished no one to see him ; he desired to be alone 
 with me." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the judge with a sigh of relief. 
 
 The sigh was significant. It meant, " It's all clear, 
 only too evident. She is determined to save him, at 
 the risk even of compromising her reputation. Poor 
 girl ! The idea must have just occurred to her." 
 
 This " Ah ! " was interpreted very differently by
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 337 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges. She thought that Daburon 
 was astonished at her consenting to receive Albert. 
 
 " Your surprise is an insult, monsieur," said she. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 " A daughter of my family, monsieur, may, receive 
 her fiance, without danger of any thing occurring for 
 which she should blush." 
 
 She said this, and at the same time was red with 
 shame, grief, and anger. She began to hate Daburon. 
 
 " I had no such insulting thought as you imagine, 
 mademoiselle," said the magistrate. " I was only won- 
 dering why Monsieur de Commarin went secretly to 
 your house, when his approaching marriage gives him 
 the right to present himself openly, at all hours. I 
 wondered still further, how, on such a visit, he could 
 get his clothes in the condition in which we found 
 them." 
 
 " That is to say, monsieur," replied Claire bitterly, 
 " that you doubt my word." 
 
 " The circumstances are such, mademoiselle, " 
 
 " You accuse me, then, of falsehood, monsieur ? 
 Why, were we criminals, we should not descend to 
 justifying ourselves; we should never pray nor ask for 
 pardon." 
 
 The haughty, contemptuous tone of Mademoiselle 
 d'Arlanges, could only anger the judge. How harshly 
 she treated him ! And simply because he would not 
 consent to be her dupe. 
 
 " Above all, mademoiselle," he answered severely, " I 
 am a magistrate; and I have a duty to perform. A 
 crime has been committed. Every thing tells me that 
 Albert de Commarin is the guilty man. I arrest him ; 
 I examine him ; and I find against him overwhelming 
 proofs. You come and tell me that they are false ; that
 
 338 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 is not enough. As long as you addressed me as a friend, 
 you have found me kind and gentle. Now it is the 
 judge to whom you speak: and it is the judge who re- 
 plies, ' Prove it.' " 
 
 " My word, monsieur, " 
 
 " Prove it ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges arose slowly, throwing 
 upon the judge a look filled with astonishment and sus- 
 picion. 
 
 " Shall you, then, be glad, monsieur," she asked, 
 " to find Albert guilty ? Will it give you pleasure to 
 convict him? Do you hate this prisoner, whose fate 
 is in your hands? They told me the truth, then. Can 
 you talk of impartiality? Do not certain memories 
 weigh heavily in the scale? Are you sure that you are 
 not armed with the law, revenging yourself upon a ri- 
 val?" 
 
 " This is too much," murmured the judge, " this 
 is too much." 
 
 " Do you know the unusual, the dangerous position 
 we are in at this moment? One day, I remember, you 
 declared your love for me. It appeared to me sincere 
 and honest; it touched me. I was obliged to refuse 
 you, because I loved another; and I pitied you. Now 
 that other is accused of assassination ; and you are his 
 judge, and I between you stand praying for him. In 
 accepting the duty of investigation, you seemed to de- 
 clare in his favor; and yet they say you are against 
 him." 
 
 Claire's every word fell upon Daburon's heart like a 
 blow on his face. 
 
 Was it really she who was speaking? Whence came 
 this sudden boldness, which made her recall all those 
 words which found an echo in his heart?
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 339 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said he, " your grief carries you be- 
 yond yourself. From you alone could I pardon what 
 you have just said. Your ignorance of this matter 
 makes you unjust. If you think that Albert's fate de- 
 pends upon my pleasure, you deceive yourself. To con- 
 vince me is nothing ; it is necessary to convince others. 
 That I should believe you is all very natural ; but what 
 weight will others attach to your testimony, when you 
 come before them with a story, true, most true, I 
 am confident, but highly improbable." 
 
 Tears came into Claire's eyes. 
 
 " If I have unjustly offended you, monsieur," she 
 said, " pardon me : my unhappiness makes me forget 
 myself." 
 
 " You cannot offend me, mademoiselle," replied the 
 magistrate. " I have already told you that I am de- 
 voted to your service." 
 
 " Then, monsieur, help me to prove the truth of what 
 I have said. I will tell you every thing." 
 
 Daburon was fully convinced that Claire was seeking 
 to deceive him; but her boldness astonished him. 
 
 He wondered what fable she was concocting." 
 
 " Monsieur, began Claire, " you know what obstacles 
 have stood in the way of my marriage with Albert. The 
 Count de Commarin did not wish me for a daughter-in- 
 law, because I was poor, because I possessed nothing. 
 It took Albert five years to triumph over his father's 
 objections. Twice the count yielded ; twice he recalled 
 the consent which he said had been extorted from him. 
 At last, about a month ago, he gave his consent of his 
 own accord. But these hesitations, delays, refusals, had 
 deeply hurt my grandmamma. You know her sensitive 
 character; and in this case, I must confess she was 
 right. After the wedding day had been fixed, the mar-
 
 340 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 quise declared that we should not be compromised and 
 laughed at for any apparent haste in contracting so ad- 
 vantageous a marriage, as we had never before been 
 accused of ambition. She decided, therefore, that, until 
 the publication of the banns, Albert should only be ad- 
 mited into the house every other day, for two hours in 
 the afternoon, and that in her presence. We could not 
 move her from this determination. Such was the state 
 of affairs, when, on Sunday morning, a note came to 
 me from Albert. He told me that pressing business 
 would prevent his coming, although that was his regu- 
 lar day. What could have happened to keep him away ? 
 [ feared some evil. The next day I waited, impatient, 
 listracted, until his valet brought a note for me to 
 Schmidt. In that letter, monsieur, Albert entreated me 
 to grant him a secret interview. It was necessary, he 
 wrote, that he should have a long conversation with me 
 alone, and at once. Our whole future, he added, de- 
 pended upon this interview. He left me to choose the 
 day and hour, urging me to confide in no one. I did 
 not hesitate. I sent him word to meet me on Tuesday 
 evening, at the little garden gate, which opened into an 
 unoccupied street. To notify me of his presence, he 
 was to knock just as nine o'clock sounded from the 
 tower of Les Invalides. I knew that my grandmother 
 had invited a number of her friends for that evening; 
 and I thought that, by pretending a headache, I might 
 retire early, and so be free. I knew, also, that Madame 
 d'Arlanges would keep Schmidt with her." 
 
 " Excuse me, mademoiselle," interrupted Daburon, 
 " what day did you write to Albert ? " 
 
 " Tuesday." 
 
 "Can you fix the hour?"
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 341 
 
 " I must have sent the letter between two and three 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Thanks, mademoiselle. Go on, I beseech you." 
 " All my anticipations," continued Claire, " were 
 realized. I escaped in the evening; and I descended 
 to the garden a little before the appointed time. I had 
 procured a key to the little gate; and I tried to open 
 it. Unfortunately, I could not make it turn, the lock 
 was so rusty. I exerted all my strength in vain. I 
 was in despair, when nine o'clock sounded. At the third 
 stroke, Albert knocked. I told him. of the accident; 
 and I threw him the key, that he might try and unlock 
 the door. He tried in vain. I then begged him to post- 
 pone our interview until the next day. He replied that 
 it was impossible, that what he had to say admitted of 
 no delay ; that, during the three days that he had hes- 
 itated about confiding in me, he had suffered martyr- 
 dom, and that he could endure it no longer. We were 
 speaking, you understand, through the gate. At last, 
 he declared that he would climb over the wall. I begged 
 him not to do it, fearing an accident. It was very high, 
 you see; and the top was set with pieces of broken 
 glass, and the acacia branches stretched above like a 
 hedge. But he laughed at my fears, and said that, un- 
 less I made a vigorous resistance, he was going to scale 
 the wall. I dared not say any thing; and he risked 
 it. Fortunately, he was very active, and got over with- 
 out injury. He had come, monsieur, to tell me of the 
 misfortune which had befallen him. We were now 
 seated upon the little bank, you know, opposite the 
 grove; then, when the rain fell, we took refuge in the 
 summer house. It was after midnight when Albert left 
 me, quiet and happy. He went back in the same man-
 
 342 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ner, only with less danger ; because I forced him to use 
 the gardener's ladder, which I laid beside the wall when 
 he was on the other side." 
 
 This account, given in the simplest, most natural 
 manner, puzzled Daburon. What was he to think? 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he askedj " had the rain com- 
 menced when Albert climbed over the wall ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur ; the first drops fell when we were on 
 the bank. I recollect it very well, because he opened 
 his umbrella ; and I thought of Paul and Virginia." 
 
 " Allow me one moment, mademoiselle," said the 
 judge. 
 
 He sat down at his desk, and rapidly wrote two let- 
 ters. In the first, he gave orders for Albert's presence 
 in his office in the palais de justice. 
 
 In the second he ordered a detective to go imme- 
 diately to the Faubourg St. Germain to the d'Arlanges 
 house and examine the wall at the bottom of the gar- 
 den, and notice any marks of its having been scaled, 
 if any such existed. He explained that the wall had 
 been climbed twice, before and after the rain; conse- 
 quently the marks of the going and the coming would 
 be different from each other. 
 
 He enjoined upon this agent to proceed with the ut- 
 most caution, and to discover a plausible pretext which 
 would explain his investigations. 
 
 Having finished writing, the judge rang for his 
 servant, who appeared. 
 
 " Here," said he, " are two letters, which you will 
 take to my clerk, Constant. Tell him to read them, and 
 to have the orders they contain executed at once, at 
 once, you understand. Run, take a carriage, any thing, 
 but go quickly! Ah! one word. If Constant is not in
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 343 
 
 my office, have him sought for: he will not be a great 
 way off, as he is waiting for me. Go quick ! " 
 
 Daburon then turned to Claire. 
 
 " Have you kept the letter, mademoiselle, in which 
 Albert asked for this interview ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, I ought to have it with me." 
 
 She arose, felt in her pocket, and drew out a much 
 rumpled piece of paper. 
 
 " Here it is ! " 
 
 The judge of inquiry took it. A suspicion crossed 
 him. This compromising letter was quite conveniently 
 in Claire's pocket ; and yet young girls do not usually 
 thus expose requests for interviews. At a glance, he 
 ran over the ten lines of the note. 
 
 " No date," he muttered, " no stamp, nothing at 
 all." 
 
 Claire did not hear him ; she was racking her brain 
 to find proofs of the interview. 
 
 " Monsieur," said she suddenly, " it often happens, 
 that, when we wish to be, and believe ourselves alone, 
 we are nevertheless observed. Summon, I beseech you, 
 all of my grandmamma's servants, and inquire if any 
 of them saw Albert that night." 
 
 " Inquire of your servants ! Are you not dreaming, 
 mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " What, monsieur ? You fear that I shall be com- 
 promised. What of that, if he is only freed ? " 
 
 Daburon could not help admiring her. 
 
 What sublime devotion in this young girl, whether 
 she spoke the truth or not ! He could understand her 
 violence of an hour ago, now that he knew her charac- 
 ter so well. 
 
 " That is not all," she added ; " the key to the little
 
 344 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 gate which I threw to Albert : He did not return it to 
 me; he must have forgotten it. If they find it in his 
 possession, that will well prove that he was in the gar- 
 den." 
 
 " I will give the orders, mademoiselle." 
 
 " There is still another means," continued Claire ; 
 " while I am here, send to examine the wall." 
 
 She seemed to think of every thing. 
 
 " That is already done, mademoiselle," replied Da- 
 buron. " I will not hide from you, that one of the let- 
 ters which I have just sent off ordered an examination 
 of your grandmother's house, a very quiet examina- 
 tion, though, be assured." 
 
 Claire rose joyfully, and for the second time held out 
 her hand to the judge. 
 
 " Oh, thanks ! " said she, " a thousand thanks ! Now 
 I am sure that you are with me. But I have still 
 another idea: Albert ought to have the note I wrote 
 on Tuesday." 
 
 " No, mademoiselle, he has burned it." 
 
 Claire's eyes drooped ; she drew back. 
 
 She imagined a touch of irony in the judge's reply. 
 There was none, however. The magistrate remem- 
 bered the letter thrown into the fire by Albert on Tues- 
 day afternoon. It could be none other than this of 
 Claire's. It was to her, then, that the words, " She 
 cannot resist me/' applied. He understood, now, the 
 action and the remark. 
 
 " Do you know, mademoiselle," he pursued, " that 
 M. de Commarin has led justice astray, and has ex- 
 posed me to a most deplorable error, when it would 
 have been so easy to have told me all this ? " 
 
 " It seems to me, monsieur, that an honest man could 
 not confess that he had obtained an interview with a
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 345 
 
 lady, until he had obtained full permission from her 
 own lips. He ought to risk his life sooner than the 
 honor of her who has trusted in him ; but be assured 
 Albert had confidence in me." 
 
 He had nothing to reply to this ; for the sentiments 
 expressed by Mademoiselle d'Arlanges gave a meaning 
 to some of Albert's replies in the examination. 
 
 " This is not all yet, mademoiselle," continued the 
 judge ; " all that you have told me here, you must repeat 
 in my office, at the palais de justice. My clerk must take 
 down your testimony; and you must sign it. This 
 proceeding will be painful ; but it is a necessary for- 
 mality." 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, I will do it with pleasure. What 
 can I refuse, when I know that he is in prison? I am 
 determined to do every thing. If I am needed at the 
 court of assize, I will go, yes, I will be present ; and, 
 above all and before all, I will speak the truth. Doubt- 
 less," she added sadly, " I shall be much exposed : I 
 shall be looked upon as a heroine of romance; but 
 what matters public opinion, the blame or approval of 
 the world, since I am sure of his love ? " 
 
 She arose, readjusting her cloak and the strings of 
 her hat. 
 
 " Must I," she asked, " await the return of those 
 who are examining the wall ? " 
 
 "It is not at all necessary, -mademoiselle." 
 
 " Then," she continued in a sweet voice, " I can only 
 beseech you " (she clasped her hands), " conjure you " 
 (her eyes implored), " to let Albert out of prison." 
 
 " He shall be liberated as soon as possible ; I give 
 you my word." 
 
 " Oh, to-day, dear Monsieur Daburon, to-day, I beg 
 of you, now, this moment! Since he is innocent, be
 
 346 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 kind, since you are our friend. Do you wish me to go 
 down on my knees ? " 
 
 The judge had only time to extend his arms, and pre- 
 vent her. 
 
 He was choking with emotion, unhappy man ! 
 
 Ah ! how much he envied the prisoner's lot ! 
 
 " That which you ask of me is impossible, mademoi- 
 selle," said he tenderly, " impracticable, upon my honor. 
 Ah ! if it depended upon me alone, I should not be 
 able, even were he guilty, to see you weep, and to re- 
 sist." 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges, so firm up to this time, 
 could no longer restrain her sobs. 
 
 " Unhappy man! " she cried, " he is suffering; he is 
 in prison. I am free; and yet I can do nothing for 
 him. Great heaven ! inspire me with accents to touch 
 the heart of men ! At their feet I will cast myself for 
 pardon." 
 
 She suddenly stopped, surprised at having uttered 
 such a word. 
 
 " Pardon ! " she repeated fiercely ; " he has no need 
 of pardon. Why am I only a woman ? Can I not find 
 one man who will aid me ? Yes," she said after a mo- 
 ment's reflection, " there is one man who owes himself 
 to Albert ; since he it was who put him in this position, 
 the Count de Commarin. He is his father, and has 
 yet abandoned him. Ah, well ! I will remind him that 
 he has a son still." 
 
 The magistrate arose to see her to the door ; but she 
 had already disappeared, taking with her the good 
 Schmidt. 
 
 Daburon, more dead than alive, sank back in his 
 chair. His eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " What a noble woman she is ! " he murmured. "Ah !
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 347 
 
 I made no vulgar choice. I had divined and under- 
 stood all these good qualities.'' 
 
 He had never loved her so much; and he felt that 
 he should never be consoled for not having won her 
 love in return. But, in the midst of his meditations, a 
 sudden thought passed like a flash across his brain. 
 
 Had Claire spoken the truth? Had she not been 
 playing a role, assumed to deceive him ? No, surely no ! 
 
 But she might have been deceived, might have been 
 the dupe of some skilful trick. 
 
 Pere Tabaret's prediction was now realized. 
 
 Tabaret had said, " Look out for an unobjectionable 
 alibi." 
 
 How could he show the falsity of this one, planned in 
 advance, affirmed by Claire, who was herself deceived? 
 
 How could he foil a plan, so well laid that the pris- 
 oner was able without danger to await certain results, 
 with his hands bound, and without himself moving in 
 the matter? 
 
 And yet, if Claire's story were true, and Albert inno- 
 cent. 
 
 The judge struggled in the midst of inextricable 
 difficulties, without a plan, without an idea. 
 
 He arose. 
 
 " Oh ! " he said in a loud voice, as though encourag- 
 ing himself, " at the palais, all will be unravelled." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 DABURON had been surprised at Claire's visit. 
 
 M. de Commarin was still more so, when his valet de 
 chambre whispered to him that Mademoiselle d'Ar- 
 langes asked a moment's conversation with him.
 
 348 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Daburon had let a handsome card-plate fall ; M. de 
 Commarin, who was at breakfast, let his knife fall. 
 
 Like the judge he exclaimed, 
 
 "Claire!" 
 
 He hesitated to receive her, fearing a painful and 
 disagreeable scene. 
 
 She had had, he knew, very slight affection for him, 
 who had for so long repulsed her with such obstinacy. 
 What could she want with him? To inquire about 
 Albert, of course. And what could he reply ? 
 
 She would probably have some nervous attack or 
 other; and her system, as well as his, would be dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 However, he thought of the great grief she must have 
 experienced ; and he pitied her. 
 
 He reflected, that it would be cruel, as well as un- 
 worthy his character, to keep himself from her who was 
 to have been his daughter, the Viscountess de Com- 
 marin. 
 
 He sent a message, asking her to wait one instant in 
 the little salon on the ground floor. 
 
 He did not keep her long, his appetite having been 
 destroyed by the announcement of her presence. He 
 was prepared for any thing disagreeable. 
 
 When he entered, Claire bowed to him with one of 
 those graceful, yet highly dignified bends, which dis- 
 tinguished the Marquise d'Arlanges. 
 
 " Monsieur," she began 
 
 "You come, do you not, my poor child, to obtain 
 news of the unhappy boy ? " asked M. de Commarin. 
 
 He had interrupted Claire, wishing to go straight to 
 the point, in order to get it the more quickly over. 
 
 " No, monsieur," replied the young girl ; " I come, on 
 the contrary, to bring you news. Albert is innocent."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 35 1 
 
 Albert's fate depended on many others. It was then 
 that I resolved to come to you for aid." 
 
 "Is there any thing in my power?" 
 
 " I at least hope so. I am only a poor girl, very ig- 
 norant; and I know no one in the world. I do not 
 know what can be done in behalf of a man unjustly 
 detained in prison. There ought, however, to be some 
 means for obtaining justice for him. Will you not 
 try what can be done, monsieur, you, who are his 
 father?" 
 
 " Yes," replied M. de Commarin quickly, " yes, and 
 without a moment's loss." 
 
 Since Albert's arrest, the count had been plunged in 
 a dull stupor. In his profound grief, seeing about him 
 only ruin and disaster, he had done nothing to shake off 
 this mental paralysis. Ordinarily very active, he sat 
 all day now without moving. He congratulated him- 
 self that his condition prevented his feeling the im- 
 mensity of his misfortune. Claire's voice sounded in 
 his ear like the resurrection trumpet. The frightful 
 darkness was dispelled; he saw a glimmering in the 
 horizon ; he recovered the energy of his youth. 
 
 " Let us go," he said. 
 
 But suddenly the radiance in his face changed to 
 sadness, mixed with anger. 
 
 " But yet," he said, " where ? At what door shall 
 we knock with any hope of success? In the olden 
 times, I should seek the king; but to-day the emperor 
 will not interfere with the law. He will tell me to 
 await the decision of the tribunals, that he can do noth- 
 ing. Wait.' And Albert is counting the minutes in 
 mortal agony! We shall certainly obtain justice; but 
 to do it promptly is an art taught in schools that I 
 have not frequented."
 
 352 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Let us try, at least, monsieur," persisted Claire. 
 " Let us seek out judges, generals, ministers. Only 
 lead me to them. I will speak; and you shall see if 
 we do not succeed." 
 
 The count took Claire's little hands between his own, 
 and held them a moment pressing them with paternal 
 tenderness. 
 
 " Brave girl ! " he cried ; " you are a noble, cour- 
 ageous woman, Claire. Good blood never fails. I 
 should not have known you. Yes, you shall be my 
 daughter; and you shall be happy together, Albert 
 and you. But we mustn't rush about everywhere, like 
 wild geese. We need some one to point out whom we 
 should address, some guide, advocate, notary. Ah ! " 
 he cried, " I have it, Noel." 
 
 Claire raised her eyes to the count's in surprise. 
 
 " He is my son," replied M. de Commarin, evidently 
 embarrassed, " my other son, Albert's brother, the 
 best and worthiest of men." he added, repeating quite 
 appropriately a phrase already used by Daburon. " He 
 is an advocate ; he knows all about the palais ; he will 
 guide us." 
 
 Noel's name, thus thrown into the midst of this con- 
 versation so full of hope, oppressed Claire's heart. 
 
 The count perceived her affright. 
 
 " Don't feel anxious, dear child," he said. " Noel is 
 good ; and I will tell you more, loves Albert. Do not 
 shake your head so ; Noel told me himself, on this very 
 spot, that he did not believe Albert guilty. He de- 
 clared that he intended doing every thing to dispel the 
 fatal mistake, and that he would be his advocate." 
 
 These assertions did not seem to reassure the young 
 girl. She said to herself, " What has this Noel accom- 
 plished for Albert?" She could think of nothing.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 353 
 
 " I will send for him," said M. de Commarin ; " he 
 is now with Albert's mother, who brought him up, and 
 who is now on her death-bed." 
 
 "Albert's mother?" 
 
 " Yes, my child. Albert will explain to you what 
 may perhaps seem to you an enigma. Now time 
 presses. But I think " 
 
 He stopped suddenly. He thought, that, instead of 
 sending for Noel at Madame Gerdy's, he might go 
 there himself. He should thus see Valerie ! and he 
 had longed to see her again so much ! 
 
 It was one of those actions which the heart urges, but 
 which w'e do not dare risk ; because a thousand subtle 
 reasons and interests are against it. 
 
 We wish, we desire, we long for it; and yet we 
 struggle, combat, resist. But, if an opportunity occurs, 
 we are only too happy to seize it; then we have, at 
 least, one excuse to silence our conscience. 
 
 In thus yielding every thing to the impulse of our 
 feelings, we can say, " It was not I who wished it ; it 
 was fate." 
 
 " It will be better, perhaps," observed the count, " to 
 go to Noel." 
 
 " Let us start then, monsieur." 
 
 " I hardly know, my child," said the old gentleman 
 hesitating, " whether I may, whether I ought, to take 
 you with me. Propriety " 
 
 "Ah, monsieur, why talk of propriety?" replied 
 Claire, impetuously. " With you, and for his sake, I 
 can go anywhere. Is it not indispensable that I should 
 give the circumstances ? Only send word to my grand- 
 mamma by Schmidt, who will come back here and 
 await my return. I am ready, monsieur." 
 
 " Well," said the count.
 
 354 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Then, ringing so violently that he broke the bell cord, 
 he cried, " My carriage ! " 
 
 In descending the stairway, he insisted upon Claire's 
 taking his arm. The gallant and elegant politeness of 
 the Count d'Artois reappeared. 
 
 " You have taken off twenty years from my age," he 
 said ; " it is fit that I should do homage for the youth 
 you have given me." 
 
 When Claire had entered the carriage, " Rue St. 
 Lazare," he said to the footman, " quick ! " 
 
 Whenever the count said, on entering his carriage, 
 " quick," the foot-passengers had to get out of the way. 
 But the coachman was a skilful driver; and they ar- 
 rived without accident. 
 
 Aided by the directions of the porter, the count and 
 the young girl went towards Madame Gerdy's apart- 
 ment. The count mounted slowly, holding tightly to 
 the railing, stopping at each landing to breathe. He 
 was, then, to see her again. This emotion pressed his 
 heart like a vise. 
 
 " Noel Gerdy ? " he asked of the maid. 
 
 The advocate had just that moment gone out. She 
 did not know where he had gone; but he had said he 
 should not be out more than half an hour. 
 
 " We will wait for him, then," said the count. 
 
 He advanced; and the maid drew back to let them 
 pass. Noel had, in so many words, forbidden her to 
 admit any visitors ; but the Count de Commarin was 
 one of those whose appearance makes servants forget 
 all their orders. 
 
 Three persons were in the room when the maid in- 
 troduced the Count and Mademoiselle d'Arlanges. 
 
 There was the parish priest, the doctor, and a tall
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 355 
 
 man, an officer of the legion of honor, whose carriage 
 and figure indicated the veteran. 
 
 They were conversing near the mantel ; and the ar- 
 rival of strangers appeared to astonish them. 
 
 In bowing, in response to M. de Commarin's and 
 Claire's salute, they seemed to inquire their business; 
 but the hesitation was brief: the soldier offered Made- 
 moiselle d'Arlanges a chair. 
 
 The count saw that his presence was inopportune; 
 and he felt called upon to introduce himself, and ex- 
 plain his visit. 
 
 " You will excuse me, messieurs," said he, " if I am 
 inconsiderate. I need not tell you, that, in asking per- 
 mission to await Noel, I have the most pressing need 
 of seeing him. I am the Count de Commarin." 
 
 At this name, the old soldier left the chair whose 
 back he still held, and assumed all the haughtiness of 
 his profession. An angry light flashed in his eyes ; and 
 he made a threatening gesture. His lips moved, as if 
 he were about to speak ; but he restrained himself, and 
 retired, his head bowed, to the window. 
 
 Neither the count nor the others remarked these vari- 
 ous movements ; but they did not escape Claire. 
 
 While Mademoiselle d'Arlanges sat down, confused, 
 the count, also much embarrassed at his position, ap- 
 proached the priest, and in a low voice asked, 
 
 " What is, I beseech you, Monsieur 1'Abbe, Madame 
 Gerdy's condition ? " 
 
 The doctor, who had a sharp ear, heard the question, 
 and approached quickly. 
 
 It was very pleasant to speak to a personage as cele- 
 brated as the Count de Commarin, and to become ac- 
 quainted with him.
 
 356 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " I fear, monsieur," he said, " that she cannot live 
 another day." 
 
 The count pressed his hand against his forehead, as 
 though he had felt a sudden pain. He hesitated to 
 inquire further. 
 
 After a moment of chilling silence, he resolved to 
 go on. 
 
 " Does she recognize her friends ? " he murmured. 
 
 " No, monsieur. Since last evening, however, there 
 has been a great change. She was very uneasy all 
 last night : she had moments of fierce delirium. About 
 an hour ago, we thought she was recovering her senses ; 
 and we sent for the priest." 
 
 " Very useless, though," put in the priest ; " it is a 
 sad misfortune. Her reason is quite gone, poor woman ! 
 I have known her ten years. I have seen her nearly 
 every week; and I never knew a more excellent 
 woman." 
 
 " She must suffer dreadfully," said the doctor. 
 
 Almost on the instant, and as if to bear out the doc- 
 tor's words, they heard stifled cries from the next room, 
 the door of which was open. 
 
 "Did you hear?" exclaimed the count, trembling 
 from head to foot. 
 
 Claire understood nothing of this strange scene. 
 Dark presentiments oppressed her; she felt as though 
 she were enveloped by an atmosphere of evil. She grew 
 frightened, and drew near the count. 
 
 " Is she really there? " asked M. de Commarin. 
 
 " Yes, monsieur," harshly answered the old soldier 
 who had come near, " she is." 
 
 At another time, the count would have noticed the 
 soldier's tone, and have resented it. Now, he did not 
 even raise his eyes. He remained insensible to every
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 357 
 
 thing. Was she not there, two steps from him? His 
 thoughts were in the past; it seemed to him but yes- 
 terday that he had quitted her for the last time. 
 
 " I should much like to see her," he said timidly. 
 
 " That is impossible," replied the old soldier. 
 
 " Why ? " stammered the count. 
 
 " At least, Monsieur de Commarin," replied the sol- 
 dier, " let her die in peace." 
 
 The count started, as if he had been struck. His 
 eyes encountered those of the veteran's; they fell like 
 a criminal's before his judge. 
 
 " Nothing need prevent monsieur's entering Madame 
 Gerdy's room," put in the doctor, who purposely saw 
 nothing of all this. " She would probably not notice 
 his presence ; and if " 
 
 " Oh, she would perceive nothing ! " said the priest. 
 " I have just spoken to her, taken her hand : she is still 
 insensible." 
 
 The old soldier reflected deeply. 
 
 " Enter," said he at last to the count ; " perhaps it is 
 God's will." 
 
 The count tottered, so that the doctor sprang forward 
 to assist him. He gently pushed him away. 
 
 The doctor and the priest entered with him ; Claire 
 and the old soldier remained at the threshold of the 
 door, opposite the bed. 
 
 The count took three or four steps, and was obliged 
 to stop. He wished, but could not go further. 
 
 Could this dying woman really be Valerie? 
 
 He had to tax his memory severely : nothing in those 
 withered features, nothing in that troubled face, re- 
 called the beautiful, the adored Valerie of his "youth. 
 He did not even know her. 
 
 But she knew him, or rather divined, felt his pres-
 
 358 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 ence. Moved by a supernatural force, she raised 
 herself, exposing her shoulders and emaciated arms. 
 With a violent gesture, she pushed away the ice from 
 her forehead, throwing back her still plentiful hair, 
 bathed with perspiration, which fell upon the pillow. 
 
 " Guy ! " she cried. " Guy ! " 
 
 The count trembled all over. 
 
 He stood more immovable than those unhappy peo- 
 ple, who, according to popular belief, when struck by 
 lightning remain standing, but crumble into dust if 
 touched. 
 
 He did not perceive that which immediately struck 
 all others present, the transformation in the sick 
 woman. Her contracted features relaxed : a celestial 
 joy spread over her face; and her eyes, hollowed 
 by disease, assumed an expression of infinite tender- 
 ness. 
 
 " Guy," said she in a voice heart-breaking by its 
 sweetness, " you have come at last ! How long, O my 
 God ! I have waited for you ! You cannot think what 
 I have suffered in your absence. I was dying of grief, 
 without one hope of seeing you again. They have kept 
 you from me. Who, who was it ? Your relations still ? 
 Cruel, cruel ! Did you not tell them that no one could 
 love you here below as I did ? No ; that was not it. 
 I, I forget. I, were you not angry when you left me ? 
 Your friends wished to separate us ; they said that I 
 drew you away from her. Who have I injured that 
 I should have so many enemies ? They envied my hap- 
 piness ; and we were so happy ! But you did not be- 
 lieve the wicked calumny : you scorned it ; for are you 
 not here?" 
 
 The nun, who had risen on seeing so many enter the 
 sick room, now opened her eyes with astonishment.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 359 
 
 " I betray you ? " continued the dying woman, ap- 
 parently wild at the thought. " Was I not yours, your 
 own, heart and soul? To me you were every thing; 
 and there was nothing I could expect or hope from an- 
 other which you had not already given me. Was I not 
 yours, body and soul, from the first ? I never hesitated 
 to give myself entirely to you ; I felt that I was born 
 for you. Guy, can you forget that? I was working 
 for a lace-maker, and was barely earning a living. You 
 told me that you were a poor student; and I felt that 
 you were depriving yourself for my sake. You wished 
 to fit up our little cottage at St. Michael. It was lovely, 
 with its fresh paper all covered with flowers, which we 
 ourselves hung. How delightful it was! From the 
 window, there was a view of the great trees at the Tuil- 
 eries; and, by a little imagination, we could see the 
 setting sun through the arches of the bridge. Oh, those 
 happy times! The first time that we walked out into 
 the country together, one Sunday, you brought me 
 a more beautiful dress than I had ever dreamed of, and 
 boots so tiny that it was a shame to walk in them. But 
 you had deceived me ; you were not a poor student. 
 One day, in taking my work home, I met you in an 
 elegant carriage, behind which rode tall footmen in a 
 livery covered with gold. I could not believe my eyes. 
 That evening you told me the truth, that you were a 
 noble of great wealth. O my darling! why did you 
 tell me?" 
 
 Had she her reason, or was this delirium which was 
 speaking. 
 
 Great tears rolled down the wrinkled face of the 
 Count de Commarin ; and the doctor and priest won- 
 dered at this sad spectacle of an old man weeping like 
 a child.
 
 360 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Last evening only, the count had thought his heart 
 dead; and now this voice, sinking into his heart, was 
 sufficient to recall the fresh, powerful feelings of his 
 youth. How many years had passed away since! 
 
 " Then," continued Madame Gerdy, " we left St. 
 Michael. You wished it ; and I obeyed, in spite of my 
 apprehensions. You told me, that, to please you, I 
 must resemble the great ladies. You provided teachers 
 for me ; for I had been so ignorant that I scarcely knew 
 how to sign my name. Do you remember the queer 
 spelling in my first letter? Ah Guy, if you had only 
 been really a poor student ! When I knew that you 
 were so rich, I lost my simplicity, my thoughtlessness, 
 my gayety. I feared that you would think me covetous, 
 that you would imagine that your fortune influenced 
 my love. Men, who, like you, have millions, must be 
 very unhappy. They must be always doubting and full 
 of suspicions; they can never be sure whether it is 
 themselves or their gold which is loved : and this makes 
 them defiant, jealous, cruel. Oh, my dearest ! why did 
 we leave our 'ittle cottage? There we were happy. 
 Why did you not leave me always where you had 
 found me? Did you not know that the sight of hap- 
 piness irritates mankind? If we had been wise, we 
 should have hid our happiness like a crime. You 
 thought to raise me ; you .only sunk me lower. You 
 were proud of our love ; you published it abroad. 
 Vainly I asked you in mercy to leave me in obscurity, 
 and unknown. Soon the whole town knew that I was 
 your mistress. It was reported, in your own circles, 
 that you were ruining yourself for me. How I blushed 
 at the flaunting luxury you thrust upon me! You 
 were satisfied, because my beauty became celebrated; 
 I wept because my shame became so, too. Twey talked
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 361 
 
 about me, as about women who make their lovers com- 
 mit the greatest follies. Was not my name in the 
 papers? And it was through the same papers that I 
 learned of your approaching marriage. Unhapp) 
 woman ! I should have fled from you ; but I had not 
 the courage. I resigned myself, without an effort, to 
 the most humiliating, the most shameful of lots. You 
 were married ; and I continued your mistress. Oh, 
 what anguish I suffered during that terrible evening! 
 I was alone in my own house, in that room so asso- 
 ciated with you ; and you were marrying another. I 
 said to myself, ' At this moment, a pure, noble young 
 girl is giving herself to him.' I said again, ' What 
 oaths is that mouth, which has so often pressed my lips, 
 now taking?' Often since that dreadful misfortune, 
 I have asked the good God what crime I had committed 
 that I should be so terribly punished? This was the 
 crime. I continued your mistress, and your wife died. 
 I had only seen her once, and then scarcely for a mo- 
 ment; but she looked at you; and I knew that she 
 loved as only I could. And, Guy, it was our love that 
 killed her ! " 
 
 She stopped exhausted : but none of the bystanders 
 moved. They listened breathlessly, and waited with 
 feverish emotion for her to resume. 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges had not strength to re- 
 main standing; she fell upon her knees, and pressed 
 her handkerchief to her mouth to keep back her sobs. 
 Was not this Albert's mother? 
 
 The worthy sister was alone unmoved ; she had seen, 
 she said to herself, many such deliriums before. She 
 understood absolutely nothing of the scene. 
 
 " These people are very foolish," she thought, " to 
 pay so much attention to the ramblings of insanity."
 
 362 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 She thought she had more sense than the others. Ap- 
 proaching the bed she began to cover the sick woman. 
 
 " Come, madame," said she, " cover yourself, or you 
 will catch cold." 
 
 " Sister ! " remonstrated the doctor and the priest at 
 the same moment. 
 
 " Jupiter Ammon ! " cried the soldier, " let her 
 speak." 
 
 " Who," continued the sick woman, unconscious of 
 all that was passing about her, " who can tell what I 
 have endured? Oh, the wretches! They set spies 
 upon ' me ; they discovered that an officer came fre- 
 quently to see me. That officer was my brother, my 
 dear Louis. When he was eighteen years old, getting 
 no work, he enlisted, saying to motheY, that there would 
 now be one mouth less in the family. He was a good 
 soldier; and the officers always liked him. He joined 
 his regiment : he taught himself ; and he gradually rose 
 in rank. He was promoted to lieutenant, captain, and 
 finally became major. Louis always loved me; but I 
 seldom saw him. He was a non-commissioned officer 
 when he first knew that I had a lover ; and he was so 
 enraged that I feared he would never forgive me. But 
 he did forgive me, saying that my constancy in my 
 wrong was its only excuse. Ah, my friend, he was 
 more jealous of your honor than you yourself! He 
 came to see me in secret, because I had placed him in 
 the unhappy position of blushing for his sister. My 
 name never passed his lips. Could a brave soldier con- 
 fess that his sister was the mistress of a count? That 
 it might not be known, I took the utmost precautions, 
 but alas! only to make you doubt me. When Louis 
 knew what was said, he wished, in his blind rage, to 
 challenge you ; and then I was obliged to prove to him
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 363 
 
 that he had no right to defend me. What misery! 
 Ah, I have paid dearly for my years of stolen happi- 
 ness ! But you are here ; and all is forgotten ; for you 
 do believe me, do you not, Guy ? I will call Louis. He 
 will come : he will tell you that I do not lie ; and you 
 cannot doubt his, a soldier's word." 
 
 " Yes, on my honor," spoke the old soldier, " what 
 my sister says is the truth." 
 
 The dying woman did not hear him; she continued 
 in a voice panting with weariness, 
 
 " How your presence revives me ! I feel that I am 
 growing stronger. I have been sick. I do not de- 
 serve to be happy to-day ; but embrace me ! " 
 
 She held out her hands, and raised her lips as if to 
 kiss him. 
 
 " But it is on one condition, Guy, that you will leave 
 me my child. Oh ! I beg you, I entreat you not to take 
 him from me; leave him to me. What is a mother 
 without her son? You are anxious to give him an 
 illustrious name, an immense fortune. No. You tell 
 me that this sacrifice will be for his good. No. My 
 child is mine ; I will protect him. The world has no 
 honors, no riches, which can replace a mother's care 
 beside the cradle. You wish by the exchange, to give me 
 another's child. Never ! What, shall that woman embrace 
 my boy ? No, no. Take away this strange child from 
 me; it fills me with horror. I want my own Noel! 
 Ah, do not insist, do not threaten me with your anger ! 
 Don't leave me. I yield, and then I will die. Guy, 
 give up this fatal purpose; the thought alone is 
 crime. Cannot my prayers, my tears, can nothing move 
 you? Ah, well, God will punish us in our old age. 
 All will be discovered. The day will come when these 
 children will demand a fearful reckoning. Guy, I
 
 364 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 foresee the future; I see my son coming to me, justly 
 angered. What does he say? Great heaven! Oh, 
 those letters, those letters, sweet memories of our love! 
 My son, he threatens me! He strikes me! Ah, help! 
 A son strike his mother ! Tell no one of it : don't let it 
 ever be known. God, what torture ! He knows well 
 that I am his mother. He pretends not to believe me. 
 This is too much ! Guy, pardon, oh, my dearest ! I 
 had not power to resist, nor the courage to obey you." 
 
 At this moment the door leading to the stairway 
 opened, and Noel appeared, pale as usual, but calm and 
 composed. 
 
 The dying woman saw him ; and it affected her like 
 an electric shock. 
 
 A terrible trembling shook her whole body ; her eyes 
 grew inordinately large; her hair seemed to stand on 
 end. She raised herself on her elbows, pointed at 
 Noel and in a loud voice exclaimed, 
 
 "Assassin ! " 
 
 Convulsively she fell back on the bed. They 
 hastened forward : she was dead. 
 
 A deep silence prevailed. 
 
 Such is the majesty of death, and the terror which ac- 
 companies it, that, before it, even the strongest and 
 most skeptical bow their heads. 
 
 For an instant, passions and interests are forgotten. 
 Involuntarily we are drawn together, when some 
 mutual friend breathes his last in our presence. 
 
 All the bystanders were deeply moved by this painful 
 scene, this last confession, wrested from a delirious and 
 unhappy woman. 
 
 But the last word uttered by Madame Gerdy, "As- 
 sassin ' " surprised no one.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 365 
 
 All, with the exception of the nun, knew of the un- 
 happy accusation which had been made against Albert. 
 
 To him they applied the malediction of the unfor- 
 tunate mother. 
 
 Noel appeared to totter. Kneeling near the bedside 
 of her who had been as a mother to him, he took one 
 of her hands, and pressed it close to his lips. 
 
 " Dead ! " he groaned ; " she is dead ! " 
 
 By his side, the nun and the priest knelt, and repeated 
 in a low voice the prayers for the dead. 
 
 They implored God to shed his peace and mercy on 
 this departed soul. 
 
 They begged for a little happiness in heaven for her 
 who had suffered so much on this earth. 
 
 Falling into a chair, his head back, the Count de 
 Commarin was more overwhelmed, more livid, than this 
 dead woman, his old love, once so beautiful. 
 
 Claire and the doctor pressed toward him. 
 
 They undid his cravat, and opened the collar of his 
 shirt, or he would have suffocated. 
 
 With the help of the old soldier, whose red, tearful 
 eye told of suppressed grief, they moved the count's 
 chair to the half-opened window for a little air. Three 
 days before, this scene would have killed him. 
 
 But the heart grows hardened by misfortune, as 
 hands by labor. 
 
 " Tears would relieve him," whispered the doctor to 
 Claire. 
 
 M. de Commarin gradually recovered, and, with 
 clearness of thought, returned the intensity of suffer- 
 ing. 
 
 The prostration was followed by great struggl ,s in 
 his mind. Nature seemed striving to sustain the mis-
 
 366 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 fortune. We never feel the entire shock at once; it is 
 only afterwards that we realize the extent and profun- 
 dity of any misfortune. 
 
 The count's gaze was fixed upon the bed where lay 
 Valerie's body. There, then, was all that remained of 
 her. The soul that soul, so devoted, so tender had 
 flown. 
 
 What would he not give if God would but return 
 that unfortunate woman for a day, for only an hour of 
 life and reason? With what transports of repentance 
 would he cast himself at her feet, to implore pardon, 
 to tell her how much horror he had for his past con- 
 duct. How he had misunderstood the inexhaustible 
 love of that angel ! Upon a suspicion, without deigning 
 to inquire, without hearing her, he had crushed her 
 with his cold contempt: Why had he not investigated 
 the matter? He would have spared himself twenty 
 years of doubt as to Albert's birth. Instead of an 
 isolated existence, he would have had a happy, joyous 
 life. 
 
 Then he recalled the death of the countess. She also 
 had loved, even to her death. 
 
 He had not understood them; he had killed them 
 both. 
 
 The hour of expiation had come; and he could not 
 say " Lord, the punishment is too great." 
 
 And yet, what punishment, what wretchedness, dur- 
 ing the last five days ! 
 
 " Yes," he stammered, " she predicted it. Why did 
 I not listen to her?" 
 
 Madame Gerdy's brother pitied the old man, so se- 
 verely tried. He held out his hand. 
 
 " Monsieur de Commarin," he said, in a grave, sad 
 voice, " my sister pardoned you long ago, even if she
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 367 
 
 ever had an ill feeling against you. It is my turn to- 
 day ; I forgive you sincerely." 
 
 " Thanks, monsieur," murmured the count, 
 " thanks ! " and then added " dead ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Claire, " she breathed her last in the idea 
 that her son was guilty. And you did not undeceive 
 her." 
 
 " At least her son," cried the count, " should be free 
 to render her his last duties ; yes, he must be. Noel ! " 
 
 The advocate had drawn near his father, and had 
 heard all. 
 
 " I have promised, father," he replied, " to save him." 
 
 For the first time, Mademoiselle d'Arlanges was face 
 to face with Noel. Their eyes met; and she could not 
 restrain a movement of repugnance, which the advo- 
 cate perceived. 
 
 " Albert is already saved," she said bitterly : " What 
 we ask is, that prompt justice shall be done him ; that he 
 shall be immediately set at liberty. The judge now 
 knows the truth." 
 
 " The truth ? " exclaimed the advocate. 
 
 " Yes ; Albert passed at my house, with me, the even- 
 ing the crime was committed." 
 
 Noel looked at her surprised: so singular a confes- 
 sion from such a mouth, without explanation, might 
 well surprise him. 
 
 She drew herself up haughtily. 
 
 " I am Mademoiselle Claire d'Arlanges, monsieur," 
 she said. 
 
 M. de Commarin now quickly ran over all the inci- 
 dents reported by Claire. 
 
 When he had finished, 
 
 " Monsieur," replied Noel, " you see my position ; 
 leave this until to-morrow."
 
 368 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " To-morrow ! " interrupted the count indignantly, 
 " you said, I believe, to-morrow ! Honor demands, 
 monsieur that we act to-day, this moment. You can 
 do honor to this poor woman much better by deliver- 
 ing her son than by praying for her." 
 
 Noel bowed low. 
 
 " To hear your wish, monsieur, is to obey it," he 
 said. " I go. This evening, at your house, I will have 
 the honor of giving you an account of my proceedings. 
 Perhaps I shall be able to bring Albert with me." 
 
 He spoke, and, embracing the dead woman for the 
 last time, went out. 
 
 Soon the count and Mademoiselle d'Arlanges fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 The old soldier went to the mayor's, to make his dec- 
 laration of the death, and to fulfil the necessary for- 
 malities. 
 
 The nun alone remained, awaiting the priest, which 
 the cure had promised to send to watch the corpse. 
 
 The daughter of St. Vincent felt neither fear nor 
 embarrassment; she had been so many times in just 
 such scenes. 
 
 Her prayers said, she arose, and went about the room, 
 putting every thing in the proper order after a death. 
 
 She removed all traces of the sickness, hid the vials 
 and little cups, burnt some sugar upon the fire shovel, 
 and on a table covered with a white cloth at the head 
 of the bed, placed some lighted candles, a crucifix with 
 holy water, and a branch of palm.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 369 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 TROUBLED and distressed by the revelations of Ma- 
 demoiselle d'Arlanges, Daburon was ascending the 
 stairway that led to the gallery of the judges of inquiry, 
 when he was met by Pere Tabaret, The sight pleased 
 him; and so he called out, 
 
 " Monsieur Tabaret ! " 
 
 But the old fellow, who showed every sign of the 
 most intense agitation, was scarcely disposed to stop, 
 or to lose a single minute. 
 
 " You must excuse me," he said, saluting him, " but I 
 am expected at home." 
 
 " I hope, however " 
 
 " Oh, he is innocent," interrupted Pere Tabaret. " I 
 have already some proofs; and before three days 
 But you are going to see Gevrol's man with the rings in 
 his ears. He is very acute, is this Gevrol ; I have mis- 
 judged him." 
 
 And without listening to another word he hurried on, 
 jumping down three steps at a time, at the risk of 
 breaking his neck. 
 
 Daburon, disappointed, also hastened on. 
 
 In the gallery, before his office door, on a bench of 
 rough wood, sat Albert under the charge of a garde de 
 Paris. 
 
 " You will be summoned immediately," said the 
 judge to the prisoner, on opening the door. 
 
 In the office, Constant was talking with a little man 
 of a sorry appearance, who might be taken, from his 
 dress, for an inhabitant of the Batignoles, even without 
 the enormous false pin which shone in his cravat, and 
 which betrayed the detective.
 
 370 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " You received my letters ? " asked Daburon of his 
 clerk. " Monsieur, your orders have been executed : 
 the prisoner is without; and here is Martin, who has 
 this moment arrived from Les Invalides." 
 
 " That is very well," said the magistrate in a satisfied 
 tone. And turning towards the detective, 
 
 " Well, Martin," he asked, " what have you found ? " 
 
 " Monsieur, some one has climbed over the wall." 
 
 "Lately?" 
 
 " Five or six days ago." 
 
 " You are sure of this ? " 
 
 " As sure as I am that I see Constant at this moment 
 mending his pen." 
 
 " The marks are plain ? " 
 
 " As plain as the nose on my face, if I may so ex- 
 press myself. The thief it was done by a thief, I im- 
 agine " continued Martin, who was a great talker, 
 " the thief entered before the rain, and returned after 
 it, as you had conjectured. This circumstance is easy 
 to establish, if you examine the marks of the ascent and 
 the descent on the wall on the side towards the street. 
 These marks are holes, made by the end of the boot. 
 The first are clean; the others, muddy. The scamp 
 he was a nimble fellow entered by the aid of his wrists 
 and legs ; but, in going out, he enjoyed the luxury of a 
 ladder, which he threw down as soon as he was over. 
 It is very evident where it was placed below, by means 
 of the holes made by the fellow's weight ; above, by the 
 displaced mortar." 
 
 " Is that all ? " asked the judge. 
 
 " Not yet, monsieur. Three of the pieces of bottle 
 which covered the top of the wall have been torn away. 
 Many of the acacia branches, which extend out over the 
 wall, have been bent and broken. From a thorn of
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 371 
 
 one of these branches, I took this little piece of pearl 
 gray kid, which appears to me to have come from a 
 glove." 
 
 The judge took the piece with eagerness. 
 
 It was really a small fragment of a gray glove. 
 
 " You took care, I hope Martin, not to attract at- 
 tention at the house where you made this investiga- 
 tion?" 
 
 " Certainly, monsieur. I examined the exterior, at 
 my leisure. After that, disguising myself at a wine 
 merchant's around the corner, I called at the Marquise 
 d'Arlanges' house, giving myself out to be the servant 
 of a neighboring duchess, who was in despair at hav- 
 ing lost a favorite, and if I may so speak, an eloquent 
 paroquet. They very kindly gave me permission to 
 look in the garden ; and, as I spoke as disrespectfully as 
 possible of my pretended mistress, they took me for an 
 unmistakable servant." 
 
 " You are an adroit and prompt fellow, Martin," in- 
 terrupted the judge. " I am well satisfied with you : 
 and I will report you favorably at headquarters." 
 
 He rang ; while the detective, delighted at the praises 
 he had received, moved backwards to the door, bowing 
 the while. 
 
 Albert was then brought in. 
 
 " Have you decided, monsieur," asked the judge of 
 inquiry without preamble, " to give an account of how 
 you spent Tuesday evening?" 
 
 " I have already given it, monsieur." 
 
 " No, monsieur, you have not ; and I regret to say 
 that you have told me a falsehood." 
 
 Albert, at this apparent insult, turned red ; and his 
 eyes flashed. 
 
 " I know all that you did on that evening," continued
 
 372 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 the judge ; " because Justice, as I have already said, is 
 ignorant of nothing that it is important for it to know." 
 
 He sought Albert's eye, met it, and said slowly, 
 
 " I have seen Mademoiselle Claire d'Arlanges. 
 
 At that name, the prisoner's features, restrained by a 
 firm resolve not to betray himself, relaxed. 
 
 The immense sensation of delight which he must 
 have felt can easily be imagined. He was like a man 
 who escapes by a miracle from an imminent danger 
 which he had despaired of avoiding. 
 
 But he made no reply. 
 
 " Mademoiselle d'Arlanges," continued the judge, 
 " has told me where you were on Tuesday evening." 
 
 Albert still hesitated. 
 
 " I am not setting a trap for you," added the judge. 
 " I give you my word of honor. She has told me all, 
 you understand ? " 
 
 This time Albert decided to speak. 
 
 His explanations corresponded almost exactly with 
 Claire's, not one detail more. Henceforth, doubt was 
 impossible. 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlanges' reliability had not been 
 shaken. Either Albert was innocent, or she was his ac- 
 complice. 
 
 Could she knowingly be the accomplice of this dread- 
 ful crime ? No ; she could not even be suspected of it. 
 
 But now where to find the assassin? 
 
 For, in the sight of Justice, when a crime is once 
 discovered, there must be a criminal. 
 
 "You see, monsieur," said the judge severely to Al- 
 bert, " you did deceive me. You risked your life, 
 monsieur, and what is still more serious, you exposed 
 me, you exposed Justice, to a most deplorable mistake. 
 Why did you not tell me the truth? "
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 373 
 
 " Monsieur," replied Albert, " Mademoiselle d'Ar- 
 langes, in according me a meeting, trusted in my 
 honor." 
 
 " And you would have died rather than speak of this 
 interview ? " interrupted Daburon with a touch of 
 irony. " That is very fine, monsieur, worthy of the 
 days of chivalry ! " 
 
 " I am not the hero that you suppose, monsieur," re- 
 plied the prisoner simply. " If I said that I did not 
 count on Claire, I should be telling a falsehood ; I was 
 only waiting for her. I knew that, on learning of my 
 arrest, she would brave every thing to save me. But 
 they might have hid it from her ; that was my only fear. 
 In that case, however they might have construed my 
 silence, I think I should not have spoken her name." 
 
 There was no appearance of bravado. What Al- 
 bert said, he thought and felt. Daburon repented his 
 irony. 
 
 " Monsieur," he said kindly, " you must return to 
 your prison. I cannot release you yet ; but you will be 
 no longer in solitary confinement. You will be treated 
 with every attention due a prisoner whose innocence is 
 at least probable." 
 
 Albert bowed, and thanked him. He was then re- 
 moved by the garde. 
 
 " We are now ready for Gevrol," said the judge to 
 his clerk. 
 
 The chief of detectives was absent : they had inquired 
 for him at the prefecture ; but his witness, the man with 
 the rings in his ears, was without, in the gallery. 
 
 They told him to enter. 
 
 He was one of those short, thickset men, powerful as 
 oaks, of an iron frame, who look as though they could 
 carry almost any weight on their broad shoulders.
 
 374 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 His white hair and beard made his red skin, burnt, 
 scorched, tanned by the inclemencies of the weather, by 
 the storms of the sea and the sun of the tropics, appear 
 the more hard favored and ugly. 
 
 He had large hands, blackened, hard, callous, with 
 the thumbs so broad and knotted that they must have 
 had the pressure of a vise. 
 
 Large rings, in the form of an anchor hung from his 
 ears. He wore the costume of a well-to-do Norman 
 fisher, when he is dressed for a visit to the city, or for a 
 journey. 
 
 The sheriff was obliged to force him into the office. 
 
 The wolf from the coast was frightened and abashed. 
 
 He advanced, balancing himself first on one leg, then 
 on the other, with that irregular walk of the sailor, who, 
 missing the rolling and tossing of the ocean, is surprised 
 to find beneath his feet any thing so immovable as terra 
 firma. 
 
 To give himself confidence, he fumbled over his soft 
 felt hat, adorned with little lead saints, after the fashion 
 of king Louis XL of illustrious memory, and adorned 
 still more with a round gances de laine, made by some 
 young country girl, in the primitive style of four or five 
 pins placed in a bit of cork. 
 
 Daburon examined him, and saw his worth at a 
 glance. 
 
 There was no doubt but what this was the red- faced 
 man described by one of the witnesses from Jonchere. 
 
 It was impossible also to doubt the honesty of the 
 man. His face breathed open-heartedness and good- 
 ness. 
 
 " Your name? " demanded the judge of inquiry. 
 
 " Marie Pierre Lerouge."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 375 
 
 "You are, then, some relation of Claudine Le- 
 rouge ? " 
 
 " Her husband, monsieur." 
 
 What, the husband of the victim, alive, and the police 
 ignorant of even his existence ! 
 
 That was Daburon's first thought. 
 
 What, then, does this wonderful progress in inven- 
 tion acomplish ? 
 
 To-day, precisely as twenty years ago, when Justice 
 is in doubt, it requires the same inordinate loss of time 
 and money to obtain the slightest information. 
 
 On Friday, they had written to inquire about Clau- 
 dine's past life ; it was now Monday, and no reply had 
 arrived. 
 
 And yet photography was in existence, and the elec- 
 tric telegraph. They had at their service a thousand 
 means, formerly unknown; and they made no use of 
 them. 
 
 " All the world," said the judge, " believed her a 
 widow. She herself pretended to be one." 
 
 " Yes ; it was an arrangement between ourselves. I 
 told her that I would have nothing more to do with 
 her." 
 
 " Indeed ? Well, you know, I suppose, that she is 
 dead, that she was the victim of a dreadful crime ? " 
 
 " The officer who brought me here told me of it, mon- 
 sieur," replied the sailor, his face darkening. " She 
 was a wretch ! " he added in a deep tone. 
 
 " How? You, her husband, revile her? " 
 
 " I have good reason to, monsieur. Ah, my dead 
 father, who foresaw it all at the time, warned me! I 
 laughed, when he said, ' Take care, or she will dishonor 
 you.' He was right. For her sake, I have been hunted
 
 376 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 down by the police, just like some skulking thief. 
 Everywhere that they have inquired after me with a 
 description, people will say, ' Ah, ha, he has com- 
 mitted some crime ! ' And here I am before a court of 
 justice ! Ah monsieur, what a disgrace ! The Lerouges 
 have been honest people, from father to son, since the 
 world began. Inquire through the country. They will 
 tell you, ' Lerouge's word is as good as another man's 
 writing.' Yes, she was a wicked woman; and I have 
 often told her that she would come to a bad end." 
 
 "You told her that?" 
 
 " More than a hundred times, monsieur." 
 
 " Why ? Come, my friend, be assured ; your honor is 
 not at stake here : no one doubts you. When did you 
 warn her so wisely ? " 
 
 " Ah, a long time ago, monsieur," replied the sailor ; 
 " the first time was more than thirty years back. She 
 had ambition in her very blood ; she wished to mix her- 
 self in the intrigues of the great. It was that that ruined 
 her. She said that you got money for preserving their 
 secrets ; and I said that you got disgrace along with it. 
 To put up your hands to hide the villainies of the rich, 
 and to expect happiness from it, is like making your bed 
 of thorns, in the hope of sleeping well. But she had got 
 it into her head ; and it couldn't be got out." 
 
 "You were her husband," objected Daburon; "you 
 had the right to command her obedience." 
 
 The sailor struck his head, and heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 " Alas, monsieur ! it was I who did the obeying." 
 
 To proceed by short inquiries with a witness, when 
 you have no idea of the information he brings, is but to 
 lose time in attempting to gain it. When you think you 
 are approaching the important fact, you may be just 
 avoiding it. It is much better to give the witness the
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 377 
 
 rein, and to listen, putting him on the track only when 
 he gets too far away. It is the surest and easiest 
 method. This was the course Daburon pursued, all 
 the time cursing Gevrol's absence, as he by a single 
 word could have cut off a good half of the examination, 
 whose importance, by the way, the judge did not even 
 suspect. 
 
 " In what intrigues did your wife mingle ? " asked 
 the magistrate. " Go on, my friend, tell me exactly ; 
 here, you know, we must have not only the truth, but the 
 whole truth." 
 
 Lerouge placed his hat on a chair. Then he began 
 alternately to twirl his fingers, and snap them, and 
 to scratch his head violently. It was his way of arrang- 
 ing his ideas. 
 
 " I must tell you," he began, " that it is thirty-five 
 years since I fell in love with Claudine, at St. Jean. 
 She was a bright, neat, fascinating girl, with a voice 
 sweeter than honey. She was the most beautiful girl 
 in the country, straight as a mast, supple as a willow, 
 as fine and strong as a ship of the line. Her eyes 
 sparkled like old cider. She had black hair, white teeth, 
 and her breath was sweeter than the sea-breeze. The 
 difficulty was, that she hadn't a sou, while our family 
 were in easy circumstances. Her mother, who had been 
 a widow for some thirty-six years, was not, saving your 
 presence, much respected ; and my father was the hon- 
 estest man alive. When I spoke to the old fellow of 
 marrying Claudine, he swore fiercely; and eight days 
 after, he sent me to Porto on a schooner belonging to one 
 of our neighbors, pretending that it was for change of 
 air. I came back, at the end of six months, thinner than a 
 marling spike, but more in love than ever. Recollec- 
 tions of Claudine scorched me like a fire. I was fool
 
 378 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 enough to give up eating and drinking. I felt that she 
 loved me a little in return, seeing that I was a stouf 
 young fellow, and more than one girl had set her cap 
 for me. Then my father, seeing that he could do noth- 
 ing, that I was wasting away without saying ' boo ! ' 
 and was in a fair way to join my mother in the ceme- 
 tery, decided to let me complete my folly. So one even- 
 ing, after we had returned from fishing, and I got up 
 from supper without tasting it, he said to me, ' Marry 
 the hag, and stop this sort of thing.' I remember it dis- 
 tinctly; because, at hearing the old fellow call my love 
 such a name, I flew into a passion, and almost wanted 
 to kill him. Ah, one never gains any thing by marry- 
 ing in opposition to one's parents ! " 
 
 The brave sailor wandered in the midst of his recol- 
 lections. He was very far from his story. 
 
 The judge of inquiry attempted to bring him back 
 into the right path. 
 
 " Let us come to our business," he said. 
 
 " I am going to, monsieur ; but it is necessary to be- 
 gin at the beginning. I married. That evening, after 
 the ceremony, and when the relatives and invited guests 
 had departed, I went to join my wife, when I perceived 
 my father all alone in one corner weeping. The sight 
 touched my heart ; and I had a foreboding of evil ; but 
 it quickly passed away. It is so delightful, those first 
 six months with a dearly loved wife ! You seem to be 
 surrounded by mists, that change the very stones into 
 palaces and temples so completely that novices are taken 
 in. For two years, in spite of a few little quarrels, 
 every thing went on nicely. Claudine managed me like 
 a charm. Ah, she was cunning ! She seized, bound, car- 
 ried me to market and sold me, while I was totally un- 
 conscious. Her great fault was her extravagance. All
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 379 
 
 that I earned, and my business was very prosperous, 
 she put on her back. Every week there was some new 
 ornament, dresses, jewels, bonnets, the devil's baubles, 
 which merchants invent for the perdition of the female 
 sex. The neighbors chattered ; but I thought it was all 
 right. At the baptism of our son, who was called 
 Jacques after my father, to please her, I spent, regard- 
 less of my usual economy, more than three hundred 
 pistoles, the very sum with which I had intended buy- 
 ing a meadow that lay in the midst of our property." 
 
 Daburon was boiling over with impatience ; but what 
 could he do? 
 
 " Go on, go on," he said every time Lerouge made 
 the slightest appearance of stopping. 
 
 " I was well enough pleased," continued the sailor, 
 " until one morning I saw one of the Count de Com- 
 marin's servants entering our house, their chateau be- 
 ing only a quarter of a mile from our house on the other 
 side of the town. There was something peculiar about 
 this Germain, that I didn't like at all. Then it was said 
 that he had been mixed up in that affair of poor 
 Thomassine, a young girl of our family who attended 
 on the countess, and who one day. suddenly disappeared. 
 I asked my wife what the fellow wanted ; she replied 
 that he had come to engage her services as wet nurse. 
 I couldn't* understand it; for our means were suffic- 
 ient to allow Claudine to keep all her milk for our own 
 child. But she gave me the very best of reasons. She 
 wanted to earn a little money, being ashamed of doing 
 nothing, while I was killing myself with work. She 
 wanted to save, to economize; so that before long I 
 might not be obliged to go to sea any more. She was 
 to get such a good price, that, in a very little while, we 
 could save enough to replace the three hundred pistoles,
 
 380 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 and buy the meadow after all. That confounded 
 meadow decided me." 
 
 " Did she not tell you of the commission with which 
 she was charged ? " 
 
 This question astonished Lerouge. He thought that 
 it was said very properly that justice sees and knows 
 every thing. 
 
 " Not then," he answered ; " but you shall see. Eight 
 days after, the postman brought a letter, asking her to 
 come to Paris to get the child. It arrived in the even- 
 ing. ' Very well/ said she, ' I will start to-morrow 
 by the diligence.' I didn t say a word then ; but next 
 morning, when she was about to take her seat in the 
 diligence, I declared that I was going with her. She 
 didn't seem at all angry. On the contrary, she seemed 
 pleased ; at which of course I was delighted. At Paris, 
 she was to get the little one at Madame Gerdy's, who 
 lived on the Boulevarde. We arranged that she was to 
 go alone, while I waited for her at our inn. After she 
 had gone, I grew jealous. I went out in about an hour, 
 and prowled about Madame Gerdy's house, making in- 
 quiries of the servants and of the passers by, until I 
 discovered that -she was the mistress of the Count de 
 Commarin. Of course I was in a passion ; and, if I 
 had been master, my wife should have gone back with- 
 out the little scamp. A nice sort of thing to be mixed 
 up in, to be sure, I thought." 
 
 The judge of inquiry moved uneasily in his chair. 
 " Will this man never end ? " he muttered. 
 
 " Yes, you are perfectly right," he said ; " but never 
 mind your thoughts. Go on, go on ! " 
 
 " Claudine, monsieur, was more obstinate than a 
 mule. After three days of violent discussion, and by
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 381 
 
 the wicked snares of kissing and embracing, she tore 
 from me a reluctant consent. Then she told me that 
 we were not to return home by diligence. The lady, 
 who feared the fatigue of the journey for her child, 
 had arranged that we should carry him back by short 
 stages in her carriage, and drawn by her horses. That 
 was keeping up grand style. I was ass enough to be 
 delighted, because it gave me a chance to see the coun- 
 try at my leisure. We were installed with the children, 
 mine and the other, in an elegant carriage, drawn by 
 magnificent animals, driven by a coachman in liv- 
 ery. My wife was mad with joy, and chinked the gold 
 in my face. I was angry, as an honest husband should 
 be, who sees money in the family which he didn't earn. 
 At seeing my countenance, Claudine, hoping to pacify 
 me, resolved to tell me the whole truth. ' See here/ 
 she said to me., " 
 
 Lerouge stopped, and, changing his tone said, 
 
 " You understand that it is my wife who is speak- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Yes, yes. Go on." 
 
 " She said to me, shaking her purse, ' See here, my 
 man, we shall never want again ; and here's the reason : 
 the count, who has a legitimate child of the same age as 
 this, wishes that this youngster shall bear his name in- 
 stead of the other; and this can only be accomplished 
 through me. On the road, we are to meet at an inn, 
 where we are to lodge, Germain and the nurse to whom 
 they have entrusted the legitimate child: we are to be 
 put in the same chamber; and, during the night, I am 
 to exchange the little ones, as they are very much alike, 
 one for the other. The count is to give eight thousand 
 francs for it, and an annuity of a thousand francs.' "
 
 382 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " And you," cried the judge, " you, who call your- 
 self an honest man permitted such a villainy, when one 
 word would have been sufficient to prevent it ? " 
 
 " Excuse me, monsieur," remonstrated Lerouge ; " if 
 you would only let me finish." 
 
 " Well, go on." 
 
 " I could say nothing, then, I was so choked with 
 rage. I was dismayed. But she burst out laughing, 
 she was always afraid of me when I asserted myself, 
 and said, ' What a fool you are ! Listen, before you 
 sour like a dish of milk. The count is the only one who 
 wants this change made ; and he is the one that's to pay 
 for it. His mistress, this little one's mother, doesn't 
 want it at all; but she seems to consent, so as not to 
 quarrel with her lover, and because she has got a plan 
 of her own. She took me aside, during my visit in her 
 room ; and, after having made me swear secrecy on a 
 crucifix, she told me this plan. She said that she 
 couldn't bear the idea of separating herself from her 
 babe forever, and of bringing up another's child; so 
 she said, that, if I would agree not to change the chil- 
 dren, keeping mum about it to the count, she would give 
 me ten thousand francs down, and guarantee me an an- 
 nuity equal to what the count was to give me. She 
 declared, also, that she could easily find out whether 
 I kept my word, as she had made a mark of recognition 
 on her little one. She didn't show me the mark; and 
 I have examined him carefully, but can't find it. Do 
 you understand now ? I am simply to take care of this 
 little fellow here. I am to tell the count that I have 
 made the exchange. We fill our pockets from both 
 sides ; and our little Jacques will be a rich man. What 
 do you think of your wife now? Has she more clev-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 383 
 
 erness than you, eh ? ' That, monsieur, is word fof 
 word what Claudine said to me." 
 
 The rough sailor drew from his pocket a large blue- 
 checked handkerchief, and blew his nose so violently 
 that the windows shook. It was his way of weeping. 
 
 Daburon was confounded. 
 
 Since the beginning of this wretched affair, he had 
 encountered astonishment after astonishment. Scarcely 
 had he got his ideas in order on any point, when some- 
 thing new arose which utterly routed them again. 
 
 He felt confused. What was this new and grave in- 
 formation? What did it mean? 
 
 He longed to investigate it instantly; but he saw 
 that Lerouge was getting on with difficulty, laboriously 
 disentangling his memories, guided by a well-stretched 
 thread, which the least interruption would break. 
 
 " What Claudine proposed to me," continued the 
 sailor, " was villainous ; and I was an honest man. But 
 she kneaded me to her will as easily as a baker kneads 
 a pate. She overcame my heart ; she made me see that 
 white as snow which was really as black as ink. How 
 I loved her ! She proved to me that we were wronging 
 no one, and that we were making little Jacques's for- 
 tune and I was silenced. At evening, we arrived at 
 some village, and the coachman, stopping the carriage 
 before an inn, told us we were to lodge there. We en- 
 tered, and who do you think we saw? That scamp, 
 Germain, with a nurse, carrying a child so exactly 
 like the one we had that I was startled. They had jour- 
 neyed there, like ourselves, in one of the count's car- 
 riages. A suspicion came over me. How could I be 
 sure that Claudine had not invented the second story 
 to pacify me? She was certainly capable of it. I was
 
 384 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 enraged. I would consent to the one wickedness, but 
 not to the other. I resolved not to lose sight of our 
 little chap, swearing that they shouldn't cheat me : so 
 I kept him all the evening on my knees ; and, to make 
 it the surer, I tied my handkerchief about his waist. 
 Ah ! their plan was well laid. After supper they spoke 
 of turning in ; and then it was found that there were 
 only two rooms and two beds to spare in the house. It 
 seemed as though it was built expressly for our scheme. 
 The innkeeper said that the two nurses might sleep in 
 one room and Germain and myself in the other. You 
 understand, monsieur? Add to this, that during the 
 entire evening I had surprised looks of intelligence 
 passing between my wife and that rascally servant, and 
 you can imagine how furious I was. It was conscience 
 that spoke ; and I was trying to silence it. I knew very 
 well that I was doing wrong ; and I almost wished my- 
 self dead. Why is it these scamps can almost twist 
 an honest man's spirit around like a weather-cock with 
 every breath of their rascality ? " 
 
 Daburon's only reply was a blow of his fist, almost 
 powerful enough to break his desk. 
 
 Lerouge at that proceeded more quickly. 
 
 " As for me, I stopped the business, pretending to 
 be too jealous to leave my wife a minute. Every thing 
 turned out as I wished. The other nurse went into 
 the room first. Claudine and I followed soon after- 
 wards. My wife laid down in her clothes by the side 
 of the other nurse and child. I installed myself in a 
 chair near the bed, determined to keep one eye open, 
 and to mount close watch. I put out the candle, in or- 
 der to let the women sleep ; as for me, I could scarcely 
 think. My ideas drove away sleep; and I thought of 
 my father, and what he would say, if he ever knew
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 385 
 
 what I was doing. Towards midnight, I heard Clau- 
 dine moving. I held my breath. She arose. Was she 
 going to change the children? At one moment, I 
 thought not; the next, I felt sure she was. I was be- 
 side myself; and seizing her by the arm, I commenced 
 to beat her roughly, letting loose all that I had on my 
 heart. I spoke in a loud voice, as on a ship in a high 
 wind. I swore like a fiend. I raised a frightful dis- 
 turbance. The other nurse cried out, as if she were 
 having her throat cut. At this uproar, Germain rushed 
 in with a lighted candle. The sight of him finished me. 
 Not knowing what I was doing, I drew from my pocket' 
 a Spanish knife, which I always carried, and, seizing 
 the cursed baby, I ran the blade across his arm, crying, 
 ' This fellow at least can't be changed without my 
 knowing it; he is marked for life! ' : 
 
 Lerouge could go on no further. 
 
 Great drops of sweat stood upon his forehead, and 
 flowing down his cheeks, lodged in the deep wrinkles 
 of his face. 
 
 He panted; and the stern glance from the judge op- 
 pressed him, harassed him, urging him on, just as the 
 whip urges on the negro overcome with fatigue. 
 
 " The wound on the little fellow/' he continued, 
 " was terrible. It bled dreadfully ; and he might have 
 died: but I didn't stop at that. I was troubled about 
 the future, about what might happen afterwards; so 
 I determined to write out all that had occurred, and to 
 have all sign it. This was done: we all four signed. 
 Germain didn't dare resist; for I spoke with knife in 
 hand. He wrote his name first, begging me only to say 
 nothing about it to the count, swearing that, for his 
 part, he would never breathe a word of it, and pledging 
 the other nurse to a like secrecy."
 
 386 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " And have you kept this paper ? " asked Daburon. 
 
 " Yes, monsieur : and as the officer, to whom I con- 
 fessed all, advised me to bring it with me, I went to the 
 place where I always kept it ; and I have it here." 
 
 " Give it to me." 
 
 Lerouge took from the pocket of his roundabout an 
 old parchment pocket-book, fastened with a leather 
 strap and drew out a paper yellowed by age and 
 careful hiding. 
 
 " Here it is," said he. " The paper hasn't been 
 opened since that cursed night." 
 
 As the judge unfolded it, ashes fell out, which had 
 been used to keep the writing, when wet, from blot- 
 ting. 
 
 It was really a brief description of the scene, de- 
 scribed by the old sailor. The four signatures were all 
 there. 
 
 " What has become of the witnesses who signed this 
 paper?" muttered the judge, speaking to himself. 
 
 Lerouge thought the question was put to him. 
 
 " Germain is dead," he replied ; " I have been told 
 that he was killed in some broil or other. Claudine 
 has been assassinated; but the other nurse still lives. 
 She told the affair to her husband, I know; for he 
 hinted as much to me. Her name is Brossette ; and she 
 lives in the village of Commarin itself." 
 
 "Is there any thing else?" asked the judge, after 
 having taken down the name and address of this wo- 
 man. 
 
 " The next day, monsieur, Claudine tried to pacify 
 me, and to extort a promise of silence. The child was 
 hardly sick at all ; but he retained an enormous scar on 
 his arm."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 387 
 
 " Was Madame Gerdy kept in ignorance of what had 
 passed ? " 
 
 " I do not think so, monsieur; but I am not sure." 
 
 "How? not sure?" 
 
 " Yes, monsieur. You see my ignorance came of 
 what happened afterwards." 
 
 "What did happen?" 
 
 The sailor hesitated. 
 
 "That, monsieur, concerns. only me and " 
 
 " My friend," interrupted the judge, " you are an 
 honest man, I believe; in fact, I am sure. But once in 
 your life, influenced by a wicked woman, you did 
 wrong, you became an accomplice in a very great 
 crime. Repair that error, by speaking truly now. All 
 that is said here, and which is not directly connected 
 with the crime, remains secret ; even I will forget it im- 
 mediately. Fear nothing; and, if you experience some 
 humiliation, remember it is your punishment for the 
 past." 
 
 " Alas, monsieur," answered the sailor, " I have been 
 already punished ; it is a long time since my trouble be- 
 gan. Money, wickedly acquired, brings no good. On 
 arriving home, I bought the wretched meadow for much 
 more than it was worth ; and, the day I walked over it, 
 feeling that it was actually mine, closed my happiness. 
 Claudine was a coquette; but she had vices still worse. 
 When she realized how much money we had, these vices 
 burst forth, just as a fire smouldering at the bottom of 
 the hold, bursts forth when you open the hatches. In- 
 stead of the slight eater she had been, her appetite got 
 to be enormous enough, saving your presence, to strike 
 you with horror. There was feasting in our house 1 
 without end. When I would go to sea, she would en-
 
 388 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 tertain the worst scoundrels in the country; and there 
 was nothing too good or too expensive for them. She 
 took to drinking, too ; so that she was half her time far 
 from sober. One night when she thought me at Rouen, 
 I unexpectedly returned. I entered, and found her with 
 the head bailiff of the town. I might have killed him, 
 like the vermin that he was : it was my right ; but I had 
 pity on him. I took him by the neck and pitched him 
 out the window, without opening it. It didn't kill him, 
 more's the pity! Then I fell upon my wife, and beat 
 her until she couldn't stir." 
 
 Lerouge spoke in a harsh voice, now and then thrust- 
 ing his restless hands into his eyes. 
 
 " I pardoned her," he continued ; " and the man who 
 beats his wife and then pardons her is lost. In the fu- 
 ture, she only takes better precautions, becomes more 
 of a hypocrite. In the mean while, Madame Gerdy had 
 taken back her child ; and Claudine had nothing more to 
 restrain her. Protected and counselled by her mother, 
 whom she had taken to live with us and who took care 
 of our Jacques, she managed to deceive me for more 
 than a year. I thought she had recovered her better 
 senses ; but not at all : she lived a terrible life. My 
 house vbecame the resort of all the good-for nothing 
 rogues in the country, for whom my wife brought out 
 bottles of wine and brandy; and, while I was away 
 at sea, they got drunk promiscuously. When money 
 failed, she wrote to the count or his mistress; and the 
 orgies continued. Occasionally I had doubts which 
 disturbed me; and then without reason, for a simple 
 yes or no, I would beat her until she was even more 
 thirsty, and after that pardon like a coward, like an 
 imbecile. It was a hard life. I don't know which gave 
 me the most pleasure, embracing her or beating her.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 389 
 
 Everybody in the village despised me, and turned their 
 backs on me ; they believed me an accomplice or a will- 
 ing dupe. I heard, afterwards, that they believed I 
 shared the profits of my wife's conduct ; while in reality 
 there were no profits. At all events, they wondered 
 where all the money came from that was spent in my 
 house. To distinguish me from a cousin of mine, also 
 named Lerouge, they tacked on an infamous word to 
 my name. What disgrace ! And I knew nothing of 
 all the scandal, no, nothing. Would that I had never 
 married ! Fortunately, though, my father was dead." 
 
 Daburon pitied him sincerely. 
 
 " Rest yourself, my friend," he said ; " wait an in- 
 stant." 
 
 " No," replied the sailor, " I would rather get 
 through with it quickly. One man, the priest, had the 
 charity to tell me of it. Never had such a thing hap- 
 pened to a Lerouge! Without losing a moment, I 
 sought a lawyer, and asked him how an honest man 
 ought to act who had had the misfortune to marry such 
 a woman. He said that nothing could be done. To go to 
 law was simply to publish one's own dishonor; while 
 a separation would accomplish nothing. When once a 
 man has given his name to a woman, he told me, he 
 could no longer take it back: he had shared it with 
 her for the rest of her life ; she had the right to keep it. 
 She may sully it t cover it with mire, drag it from wine- 
 shop to wine-shop; and the husband can do nothing. 
 That being the case, my course was soon taken. That 
 same day I sold the meadow and sent the price of it to 
 Claudine, wishing to keep nothing of the price of 
 shame. I then drew up a paper, authorizing her to use 
 our property, but not allowing her either to sell or mort- 
 gage it. Then I wrote a letter to her, in which I told
 
 390 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 her that she need never expect to speak with me again ; 
 that I was nothing more to her, and that she might look 
 upon herself as a widow : and that night I went away 
 with my son." 
 
 " And what became of your wife after your de- 
 parture?" 
 
 " I cannot say, monsieur ; I only know that she 
 quitted the country a year after I did." 
 
 " You have never seen her since ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " But you were at her house three days before this 
 crime was committed." 
 
 " That is true, monsieur; but that was absolutely 
 necessary. I had been at much trouble to find her: no 
 one knew what had become of her. Fortunately my 
 notary was able to procure Madame Gerdy's address. 
 He wrote to her ; and that is how I knew that Claudine 
 was living at Jonchere. I had just come from Rouen. 
 Capt. Gervaise, who is a friend of mine, offered to bring 
 me to Paris on his boat ; and I accepted. Ah, monsieur, 
 what a shock I experienced when I entered her house ! 
 My wife did not know me ! By constantly telling the 
 world that I was dead, she had without a doubt ended 
 by believing it herself. When I told my name, she 
 fell back. The wretched woman had not changed in 
 the least; she had by her side a glass and a bottle of 
 brandy " 
 
 " All this doesn't explain why you were seeking 
 your wife." 
 
 " It was on Jacques's account, monsieur, that I went. 
 The little boy has grown to be a man ; and he is anxious 
 to marry. For that, his mother's consent is necessary ; 
 and I was taking to Claudine a paper, which the notary 
 had drawn up, and which she signed. Here it is now."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 391 
 
 Daburon took the paper, and appeared to read it at- 
 tentively. After a moment he asked, 
 
 " Have you tried to think who could have assassi- 
 nated your wife ? " 
 
 Lerouge made no reply. 
 
 " Have you had suspicions of any one ? " persisted 
 the judge. 
 
 " Well, monsieur," replied the sailor, " what can I 
 say? It might be that Claudine had wearied out these 
 people from whom she drew money, like water from a 
 well; or perhaps, getting drunk some day, she blabbed 
 too freely." 
 
 The testimony being as full as possible, Daburon dis- 
 charged Lerouge, at the same time advising him to wait 
 for Gevrol, who would take him to a hotel, where he 
 might wait, at the disposal of justice, until further or- 
 ders. 
 
 " All your expenses will be repaid you," added the 
 judge. 
 
 Lerouge had scarcely turned on his heel, when an 
 event grave, extraordinary, unheard of, unprecedented, 
 took place in the office of the judge of inquiry. 
 
 Constant, the serious, impassive, immovable, deaf 
 and dumb Constant, arose and spoke. 
 
 He broke a silence of fifteen years. He forgot 
 himself so far as to offer an opinion. 
 
 He said, 
 
 " This, monsieur, is a most extraordinary affair." 
 
 Very extraordinary, truly, thought Daburon, putting 
 to rout all predictions, all preconceived opinions. 
 
 Why had he, the judge, moved with such deplorable 
 haste? Why, before risking any thing, had he not 
 waited to possess all the elements of this weighty mat- 
 ter, to hold all the threads of this complicated plot?
 
 392 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 Justice is accused of slowness; but it is this very 
 slowness that constitutes its strength and surety, its 
 almost infallibility. 
 
 One cannot know, on the instant, what course the 
 testimony will take. 
 
 There is no knowing what facts investigations ap- 
 parently useless may reveal. 
 
 The dramas of the court of assize lose much by not 
 observing the unities. 
 
 When the labyrinth of the various passions and mo- 
 tives seems inextricable, an unknown personage pre- 
 sents himself, coming from, no one knows where; and 
 it is he who brings on the denouement. 
 
 Daburon, usually the most prudent of men, had con- 
 sidered as simple one of the most complex of cases. He 
 had acted in a mysterious crime, which demanded the 
 utmost caution, as carelessly as though it were a case 
 of simple misdemeanor. Why? Because his memory 
 had not left free his deliberation, his judgment, his dis- 
 cernment. He had feared equally appearing weak and 
 appearing revengeful. Thinking himself sure of his 
 facts, he had been carried away by his animosity. 
 And yet how often had he deceived himself with 
 the idea of duty! But then, when you are at all 
 doubtful about your duty, you are always on a false 
 track. 
 
 The singular part of it all was, that the faults of the 
 judge of inquiry sprang from his very honesty. He had 
 been led astray by a too great refinement of conscience. 
 The scruples which troubled him had filled his mind with 
 phantoms, had pushed him even to a passionate ani- 
 mosity. 
 
 Calmer now, he examined the matter more soundly. 
 As a whole, thank heaven! there was nothing done
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 393 
 
 which could not be repaired. He accused himself, 
 however, none the less hardly. Chance alone had 
 stopped him. On the instant, he resolved that this ex- 
 amination should be his last. His profession hence- 
 forth could inspire him only with an unconquerable 
 loathing. Then his interview with Claire had opened 
 all the old wounds in his heart ; and they bled more 
 dreadfully than ever. He felt, in despair, that his life 
 was broken, ruined. A man may feel so, when all 
 women are as nothing to him except one, whom he may 
 never hope to possess. 
 
 Too religious to think of suicide, he asked himself 
 with anguish what would become of him when he 
 should throw aside his judge's robes. 
 
 Then he turned again to the business in hand. In 
 any case, innocent or guilty, Albert was really the Vis- 
 count de Commarin, the count's legitimate son. But 
 was he guilty? Plainly not. 
 
 " I think," he cried out suddenly, " I had better 
 speak to the Count de Commarin. Constant, send to 
 his house and bring him here at once; if he is not at 
 home, have him sought for." 
 
 Daburon felt that an unpleasant duty was before 
 him. He should have to say to the old gentleman, 
 " Monsieur, I was mistaken about your legitimate son ; 
 you have still the right one with you." What a po- 
 sition, not only painful, but bordering on the ridicu- 
 lous! As a compensation, though, he could tell him 
 that Albert was innocent. 
 
 To Noel he must also tell the truth, must hurl him 
 to earth, after having raised him among the clouds. 
 What a blow it would be! But, without a doubt, the 
 count would make him some compensation ; at least, he 
 ought to.
 
 394 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Now," muttered the judge, " who can be the crim- 
 inal?" 
 
 A dark suspicion flashed across his brain, which im- 
 mediately after appeared to him utterly absurd. He 
 rejected it, then thought of it again. He turned 
 and returned it, examined it in all its various aspects. 
 He was almost decided, when M. de Commarin entered. 
 
 Daburon's messenger had arrived just as he was 
 alighting from his carriage, on returning with Claire 
 from Madame Gerdy's. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 PERE TABARET had spoken ; but he had also acted. 
 
 Abandoned by the judge of inquiry to his own re- 
 sources, he went to work without losing a moment's 
 time and without taking a moment's rest. 
 
 The story of the cabriolet, drawn by a swift horse, 
 was exact in every particular. 
 
 Lavish with his money, the old fellow had gathered 
 together a dozen detectives on leave, or out of work; 
 and at the head of these worthy assistants, seconded by 
 his friend Lecoq, he had gone to Bougival. 
 
 He had actually searched the country house by house, 
 with the obstinacy and the patience of a maniac hunt- 
 ing for a needle in a hay-stack. 
 
 His efforts were not absolutely wasted. 
 
 After three days' investigation, he felt comparatively 
 sure of this ; the assassin had not left the cars at Rueil, 
 as all the people of Bougival, Jonchere, and Marly do, 
 but had gone on as far as Chatou. 
 
 Tabaret thought he recognized him in a man, de-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 395 
 
 scribed to him by the employes at that station as still 
 young, of brown complexion, with a pair of black 
 whiskers, laden with a great coat and an umbrella. 
 
 This traveller, who arrived by the train which left 
 Paris for St. Germain at thirty-five minutes past eight 
 in the evening, had appeared very depressed. 
 
 On quitting the station, he had started off at a rapid 
 pace on the road which led to Bougival. Upon the way, 
 two men from Marly and a woman from Malmaison 
 had noticed him, and wondered at his long strides. He 
 smoked all the way. 
 
 On crossing the bridge which joins the two banks 
 of the Seine at Bougival, he had been again noticed. 
 
 It is usual to pay a toll on crossing this bridge; and 
 the supposed assassin had apparently forgotten this 
 circumstance. 
 
 He had passed without paying, keeping up his rapid 
 pace, pressing his elbows to his side, husbanding his 
 breath; and the gate-keeper was obliged to rush after 
 him for his pay. 
 
 He appeared much provoked at this circumstance, 
 threw down a ten sous' piece, and went on, without 
 waiting for the forty-five centimes due him as change. 
 
 Nor was that all. 
 
 The station agent at Rueil remembered that, two, 
 minutes before the quarter past ten train passed, a trav- 
 eller arrived agitated, and so out of breath that he could 
 scarcely ask for a ticket a second class ticket for 
 Paris. 
 
 The appearance of this man corresponded exactly to 
 the description given of him by his employes, at 
 Chatou, and by the gate-keeper at the bridge. 
 
 Finally the old man got on the track of an individual 
 who had occupied the same compartment with him.
 
 396 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 He proved to be a baker of Asnieres; and he had 
 written to him, asking an interview. 
 
 Such was Pere Tabaret's balance sheet, when on 
 Monday morning he presented himself at the palais de 
 justice, in order to hear if there had been any informa- 
 tion received as to the Widow Lerouge's past life. 
 
 He found that none had arrived; but in the gallery 
 he met Gevrol and his man. 
 
 The chief of detectives was triumphant, and showed 
 it, too. On seeing Tabaret, he called out, 
 
 "Ah well, my illustrious bird's-nest hunter, what 
 news? Have you found any more mare's nests, since 
 the other day? Ah, you old rogue, you are aiming for 
 my place ! " 
 
 The old man was sadly changed. 
 
 The consciousness of his mistake made him humble 
 and meek. These pleasantries, which a few days before 
 would have made him angry, now did not touch him. 
 Instead of replying, he bowed his head in such a peni- 
 tent manner that Gevrol was astonished. 
 
 " Jeer at me, my good Gevrol," he replied, " mock 
 me without pity : you are right ; I deserve it all." 
 
 " Ah," said the chief, " you have performed some 
 new masterpiece, my ardent old fellow ! " 
 
 Pere Tabaret shook his head sadly. 
 
 "I have delivered up an innocent man," he said; 
 " and justice will not give him back to me." 
 
 Gevrol was delighted, and rubbed his hands until he 
 almost wore away the skin. 
 
 " This is fine," he sang out, " this is capital. To 
 bring criminals to justice is of no account at all ; but to 
 free the innocent, Jove! that is the last touch of art. 
 Papa Tirauclair, you are a wonder; and I bow before 
 you."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 397 
 
 At the same time, he lifted his hat ironically. 
 
 " Don't crush me," replied the old fellow. " As you 
 know, in spite of my grey hairs, I am young in the pro- 
 fession. Because chance has served me three or four 
 times I had become foolishly proud. I learned too late 
 that I was not all that I had thought myself. I was but 
 an apprentice, and success had turned my head ; while 
 you, Gevrol, you were always my master. In the place 
 of laughing pray help me, aid me with your counsels 
 and your experience. Alone, I can do nothing as well 
 as if I had your assistance." 
 
 Gevrol was elated in the highest degree. 
 
 Tabaret's submission, which he really thought a 
 great deal of at heart, tickled his pretensions as a de- 
 tective immensely. 
 
 He was softened. 
 
 " I suppose," he said patronizingly, " you refer to the 
 Jonchere matter." 
 
 " Alas ! yes, dear Gevrol, I wished to go on without 
 you; but I have been dished." 
 
 Tabaret's old cunning kept his countenance as peni- 
 tent as that of a sacristan, surprised while cooking meat 
 on Friday ; but at heart he was laughing and rejoicing 
 all the while. 
 
 " Conceited simpleton ! " he thought, " I will flatter 
 you so that you will end by doing just what I want you 
 to." 
 
 Gevrol rubbed his nose, put out his lower lip, and 
 said, " Ah hem ! " 
 
 He pretended to hesitate ; but it was only because he 
 enjoyed prolonging the old amateur's discomfiture. 
 
 " Come," said he at last, " cheer up, Papa Tirauclair. 
 I am a good fellow at heart ; and I'll give you a lift. It 
 is kind in me, isn't it? But, to-day, I am entirely too
 
 398 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 busy. I am expected below now. Come to me to-mor- 
 row morning, and we'll talk it over. But before we 
 part I'll give you a light to find your way with. Do 
 you know who this witness is that I have brought?" 
 
 " No ; but tell me, my good Gevrol." 
 
 " Well, that fellow on the bench there, who is waiting 
 for Monsieur Daburon, is the husband of the victim of 
 the Jonchere tragedy ! " 
 
 " It is impossible," said Pere Tabaret stunned. Then, 
 after reflecting, he added, " you are joking with me." 
 
 " No, upon my word. Go ask him his name ; he 
 will tell you that he is called Pierre Lerouge." 
 
 " She wasn't a widow then? " 
 
 " It appears not," replied Gevrol sarcastically, " since 
 there is her happy spouse." 
 
 " Whew ! " muttered the old fellow. " And does he 
 bring any information ? " 
 
 In a few sentences, the chief explained to his amateur 
 colleague the story that Lerouge was about to give to 
 the judge of inquiry. 
 
 " What do you say to that ? " he demanded at the 
 end. 
 
 " What do I say to that? " stammered Pere Tabaret, 
 whose countenance indicated intense astonishment, 
 " what do I say to that ? I don't say any thing. But 
 I think, no, I don't think at all ! " 
 
 " A tile has fallen, eh, what ? " said Gevrol beaming. 
 
 " Say rather a blow of a club," replied Tabaret. 
 
 But suddenly he recovered himself, giving his fore- 
 head a hard blow with his fist. 
 
 " And my baker ! " he cried, " to-morrow, then, Gev- 
 rol." 
 
 " He is crazed," thought the chief of detectives. 
 
 The old fellow was sane enough ; but he had entirely
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 399 
 
 forgotten the Asnieres baker, whom he had appointed 
 to meet at his house. He might find him there still. 
 
 On the stairway he met Daburon; but he hardly 
 deigned to reply to him. 
 
 He was soon out, and trotting like a lean cat along 
 the quays. 
 
 " There ; we'll fix it all right," he said to himself. 
 " Noel may feel bad ; but he shan't suffer. Pshaw ! 
 if he likes, I'll adopt him. Tabaret doesn't sound so 
 well as Commarin, but it's at least a name. No matter. 
 Gevrol's story affects in no way Albert's situation nor 
 my convictions. He is the legitimate son ; so much the 
 better for him. That doesn't in any way prove his in- 
 nocence, though, unless I am mistaken. He evidently 
 knows nothing of these surprising circumstances, any 
 more than his father. He must believe, as well as the 
 count, in the substitution having taken place. Madame 
 Gerdy, too, must have been ignorant of these facts ; they 
 must have invented some story to explain the scar. 
 But then she must have known that Noel was really 
 her son ; for she had placed a mark of recognition upon 
 him, which she of course examined when he was re- 
 turned to her. Then, when Noel discovered the count's 
 letters, she must have hastened to explain to him " 
 
 Pere Tabaret stopped as suddenly as if his path were 
 obstructed by a dangerous reptile. 
 
 He was terrified at the conclusion he had reached. 
 
 " Noel, then, must be the assassin of the Widow Le- 
 rouge, that he might prevent her confessing that the 
 substitution never took place; and he burnt the letters 
 and papers which proved it ! " 
 
 But he pushed away with horror this supposition, as 
 every honest man drives away a detestable thought 
 which by accident gets into his mind.
 
 400 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " What an old fool I am ! " he exclaimed, resuming 
 his walk ; " this is the result of the dreadful profession 
 I used to glory in following. Suspect Noel, my boy, 
 my sole heir, the personification of virtue and honor, 
 Noel, whom ten years of constant intercourse have 
 taught me to esteem and admire to such a degree that 
 I would speak for him as I would for myself? Men of 
 his class must have terrible passions to push them to 
 shedding blood : and I have never known Noel to have 
 but two passions, his mother, and his profession. And 
 I dare even to breathe a suspicion against this noble 
 character ! I ought to be whipped. Old fool ! isn't 
 the lesson you have already received sufficiently terrible ? 
 Will you never be more cautious ? " 
 
 Thus he reasoned, forcing himself to repel these dis- 
 quieting thoughts, and restraining his habits of investi- 
 gation; but in his heart a tormenting voice constantly 
 whispered, " Could it be Noel ? " 
 
 Pere Tabaret arrived at the Rue St. Lazare. Before 
 his door stood an elegant blue coupe, drawn by a mag- 
 nificent horse. Mechanically he stopped. 
 
 " A handsome animal ! " he said ; " my lodgers must 
 be receiving some fine callers.'' 
 
 They were apparently receiving very bad ones, too; 
 for, at that moment, he saw Clergeot coming out, honest 
 Clergeot, whose presence in a house betrayed ruin just 
 as surely as the presence of undertakers indicate death. 
 
 The old detective, who knew everybody, was well ac- 
 quainted with the honest banker. He had even had 
 business with him once, examining his books. 
 
 He stopped him. 
 
 " Halloa ! you old crocodile," said he ; " you have 
 business, then, in my house?"
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 401 
 
 " So it seems," replied Clergeot dryly, not liking to be 
 treated with such familiarity. 
 
 "Hold on ! " shouted Pere Tabaret. 
 
 And, urged by the very natural curiosity of a pro- 
 prietor very careful about the kind of lodgers he takes, 
 he added, 
 
 " Who the devil are you ruining now ? " 
 
 " I never ruin any one," replied Clergeot, with an air 
 of offended dignity. "Have you ever had reason to 
 complain of me in our affairs? I think not. Ask the 
 young advocate up there, who does business with me, if 
 you like ; he will tell you whether he has reason to regret 
 knowing me." 
 
 Tabaret was painfully impressed. 
 
 What, Noel, the prudent Noel, one of Clergeot's cus- 
 tomers ! What could that mean ? Perhaps there was 
 no harm in it ; but he remembered the fifteen thousand 
 francs of Thursday. 
 
 " Yes," said he, wishing to get a little more informa- 
 tion, " I know that young Gerdy spends a pretty round 
 sum." 
 
 Clergeot was always sensitive, and never left his 
 profession undefended when attacked. 
 
 " It isn't he personally," he objected, " who makes 
 the money dance; it's that charming little girl of his. 
 Ah, she's a great one ; she'd eat the devil, hoofs, horns, 
 and all!" 
 
 What, a mistress, a creature whom Clergeot himself, 
 fond of the little girls, considered expensive ! This rev- 
 elation, at this time, pierced the old man to the heart. 
 But he dissembled. A gesture, a look, might awaken the 
 usurer's defiance, and close his mouth. 
 
 " That's well known'," he replied, in as careless a tone
 
 402 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 as he could muster ; " youth must have something to 
 amuse itself with. But what do you suppose that this 
 little girl costs him a year? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! He is wrong in not limiting her. 
 According to my calculation, she must have, during the 
 four years that he has had her, cost him in the neigh- 
 borhood of five hundred thousand francs." 
 
 Four years ? Five hundred thousand francs ! 
 
 These words, these figures, burst like a bombshell on 
 Tabaret's brain. 
 
 A half million ! 
 
 In that case, Noel must be utterly ruined. But 
 then 
 
 " It is a great deal," said he, succeeding by desperate 
 efforts in hiding his sufferings ; " it is enormous ; but 
 then, Gerdy has resources." 
 
 " He ? " interrupted the usurer, shrugging his should- 
 ers. " Not a bit of it," he added, snapping his fingers ; 
 " he is utterly ruined. But, if he owes you money, never 
 fear. He is a sly dog: he is going to get married. I 
 have just renewed his notes for twenty-six thousand 
 francs, on that understanding. Au revoir, Monsieur 
 Tabaret." 
 
 The usurer hurried away, leaving the poor old fellow 
 standing still as a stone in the street. 
 
 He experienced something of that terrible grief which 
 breaks a father's heart, when he begins to realize 
 that his dearly-loved son is perhaps the worst of scoun- 
 drels. 
 
 And, moreover, such was his confidence in Noel that 
 he struggled with his reason to again resist the sus- 
 picion which tormented him. Might not this usurer 
 be slandering the advocate ? 
 
 People who demand more than ten per cent, are capa-
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 403 
 
 ble of any thing. Evidently he had exaggerated the 
 extent of Noel's follies. 
 
 And, even if it were true, have not many men done 
 just such insane things for women, without ceasing to 
 be honest ? 
 
 He was about entering his door. 
 
 A whirlwind of silk, lace, and velvet barred the pas- 
 sage. 
 
 A bright young brunette was coming out. 
 
 She jumped as lightly as a bird into the blue coupe. 
 
 Pere Tabaret was a gallant man, and the young girl 
 was most charming; but he never even glanced at her. 
 
 He entered ; and beneath the arch he found his porter 
 standing, cap in hand, looking tenderly with his one eye 
 at a twenty franc piece. 
 
 " Ah, monsieur/' said the man, " such a fine lady, so 
 ladylike! If you had only been here five minutes 
 sooner." 
 
 "What lady? why?" 
 
 " This fine lady, who just went out, monsieur, she 
 came to inquire about Monsieur Gerdy. She gave me 
 twenty francs for answering her questions. It seems 
 that monsieur is going to be married; and she was 
 evidently much excited at it. Superb creature ! I know 
 now why he is out every night." 
 
 " Monsieur Gerdy? " 
 
 " Yes, monsieur ; but I have never spoken to you of 
 it, because he seemed to hide it. He never asked me to 
 open for him : no, he wasn't such a fool. He slipped 
 out by the little back gate. I said to myself, ' He don't 
 want to disturb me : it is very thoughtful on his part ; 
 and he seems to enjoy it so.' " 
 
 The porter spoke with his eye constantly fixed on the 
 gold piece.
 
 404 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 When he raised his head to examine the countenance 
 of his master, Tabaret had disappeared. 
 
 " There is another fine fellow ! " said the porter to 
 himself. " A hundred sous, that master runs after the 
 superb creature. Run ahead; go it, old graybeard/' 
 The porter was right. Pere Tabaret did run after the 
 lady in the blue coupe. 
 
 He thought, " She will tell me all ; " and instantly he 
 was in the street. 
 
 He reached it just in time to see the blue coupe turn 
 the corner of the Rue St. Lazare. 
 
 " Heavens ! " he muttered, " I shall lose sight of her, 
 just when the truth is in my grasp." 
 
 He was in one of those states of nervous excitement 
 which call forth prodigies. 
 
 He ran to the end of the Rue St. Lazare as rapidly as 
 if he had been a young man of twenty. 
 
 Joy ! Five steps from him he saw the blue coupe in 
 the Rue Havre, stopped in the midst of a blockade of 
 carriages. 
 
 " I have her," he murmured. 
 
 He looked all through the neighborhood of the Quest, 
 that street where unemployed carriages are almost in- 
 variably roving; not a carriage! 
 
 Gladly would he have cried, like Richard the III., 
 
 " My kingdom for a hackney coach." 
 
 The blue coupe got out of the entanglement, and 
 started off rapidly towards the Rue Tronchet. The old 
 fellow followed after. 
 
 He kept his ground. The coupe gained but little 
 upon him. 
 
 While he was running in the middle of the road, keep- 
 ing an eye out for a carriage, he kept saying,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 405 
 
 " Follow on, old fellow, follow on. If you haven't a 
 head, you must use your legs. Why didn't you re- 
 member to get this woman's address from Clergeot? 
 You must be sharper than that, my old friend, sharper 
 than that ! 
 
 " If you want to be a detective, you must be fit for the 
 profession ; and every detective ought to have the shanks 
 of a deer." 
 
 He thought only of catching up with the blue coupe 
 and of nothing else. But he was losing ground, plainly 
 losing ground. 
 
 He was only half way down the Rue Tronchet, and 
 he broke down : he felt that his limbs could not carry 
 him a hundred steps farther ; and the cursed coupe had 
 reached the Madeleine. 
 
 Hurrah ! a covered hack, going in the same direction 
 with himself, passed by. 
 
 He made a sign more despairing than a drowning 
 man's. The sign was seen. He gathered together his 
 last strength, and with a bound jumped up into the vehi- 
 cle without the aid of the step. 
 
 " There," he gasped, " that blue coupe ; twenty 
 francs." 
 
 " All right," replied the coachman, nodding. 
 
 And he covered his ill-conditioned horse with vigor- 
 ous blows, muttering, 
 
 " A jealous husband following his wife ; that's evi- 
 dent. Hi, you rascal ! " 
 
 As for Pere Tabaret, he was a long time in recover- 
 ing himself, his strength was so completely exhausted. 
 
 For nearly a minute, he could not catch his breath. 
 They were soon upon the boulevarde. He stood up in 
 the carriage, supporting himself by the driver's seat.
 
 406 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " I don't see the coupe any longer," he said. 
 
 " Oh, I see it plainly ! But it is drawn by a splendid 
 horse!" 
 
 " Yours ought to be a better one. I said twenty 
 francs; I'll make it forty." 
 
 The driver whipped up unpityingly, and growled, 
 
 " There is no use talking, I must catch her. For 
 twenty francs, I would have let her escape ; for I love 
 the girls, and always help them if I can. But, gracious ! 
 Two louis ! I wonder how a man who is as ugly as that 
 can be jealous." 
 
 Pere Tabaret tried every way to occupy his mind with 
 less important matters. 
 
 He tried not to reflect, wishing first to see this woman, 
 speak with her, and carefully question her. 
 
 He was sure that by one word she would destroy or 
 save her lover. 
 
 " What, destroy Noel ? Ah, well, yes." 
 
 This idea of Noel as the assassin harassed, tormented, 
 pestered his brain, like the moth which coming over 
 and over again, wounds itself at last against the glass, 
 or burns in the flame. 
 
 As they passed Chausee d'Antin, the blue coupe was 
 scarcely thirty paces in advance. The driver of the 
 hack turned, and said, 
 
 " The coupe has stopped." 
 
 " Then stop also. Don't lose sight of it ; but be ready 
 to start again at the same time it does." 
 
 Pere Tabaret leaned as far as he could out of the 
 hack. 
 
 The young girl got out, crossed the pavement, and en- 
 tered a shop where cashmere and laces were sold. 
 
 " There," thought Pere Tabaret, " is where the thou- 
 sand franc notes go! Half a million in four years!
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 407 
 
 What can these creatures do with the money so lav- 
 ishly poured upon them? Do they eat it? On the 
 altar of what caprices do they squander their fortunes? 
 They are the devil's own love potions, given to these 
 idiots to drink, making them ruin themselves for them. 
 They must possess some peculiar art of preparing and 
 spicing pleasure ; since, once they get hold of a man, he 
 sacrifices every thing before leaving them." 
 
 The hack moved on once more, but soon stopped 
 again. 
 
 The coupe made a new pause, this time before a 
 curiosity shop. 
 
 " The woman wants to buy out all Paris ! " said the 
 old fellow to himself in a passion. " Yes, if Noel com- 
 mitted the crime, it was she who pushed him on. These 
 are my fifteen thousand francs that she is frittering 
 away now. How long will they last her? It must 
 have been for money, then, that Noel murdered this Le- 
 rouge woman. He must be the lowest, most infamous 
 of men ! What a monster of dissimulation and hypoc- 
 risy! And to think that he would be my heir, if I 
 should die here in my rage! Yes, it is written in so 
 many words, ' I leave to my son Noel Gerdy ! ' If this 
 boy is guilty, there isn't a punishment sufficiently great 
 for him. I wonder if this woman is never going 
 home ! " 
 
 " This woman " was in no hurry. The day was 
 charming, her toilette irresistible; and she intended 
 showing herself off. She visited three or four more 
 stores, and at last stopped at a confectioner's, where she 
 remained for more than quarter of an hour. 
 
 The old fellow, driven to destruction, jumped and 
 stamped in his hack. 
 
 It was torture thus to be kept from the key to a tcr-
 
 408 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 rible enigma by the caprice of a worthless hussy ! He 
 was dying to follow her, take her by the arm, and cry 
 out to her, 
 
 " Home, wretched creature, home at once ! What 
 are you doing here? Don't you know that at this mo- 
 ment your lover, he whom you have ruined, is suspected 
 of an assassination ? Home, then, that I may question 
 you, that I may learn from you whether he is innocent 
 or guilty; for you can tell me, without a doubt, and I 
 have prepared a fine trap to catch you with. Home, for 
 this anxiety is killing me ! " 
 
 She returned to her carriage. 
 
 It moved on, passed up the Faubourg Montmarte, 
 turned into the Rue Provence, deposited its fair freight 
 at her own door, and drove away. 
 
 " She lives here," said Pere Tabaret, with a sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 He got off the hack, gave the driver his two louis, 
 bade him wait, and followed the young girl's footsteps. 
 
 " The old fellow is patient," thought the driver; " but 
 the little brunette is a sly one." 
 
 The old detective opened the door of the porter's 
 lodge. 
 
 " What is the name of the lady who has just en- 
 tered ? ' ' he demanded. 
 
 The porter did not seem disposed to reply. 
 
 " Her name ! " insisted the old man. 
 
 The tone was so short, so imperative, that the old 
 porter was upset. 
 
 " Madame Juliette Chaffour," he replied. 
 
 "On what floor?" 
 
 " The second, the door opposite you." 
 
 A moment after, the old man was waiting in Madame
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 409 
 
 Juliette's parlors. Madame was dressing, the chamber- 
 maid informed him, and would be down instantly. 
 
 Pere Tabaret was astonished at the luxury of this 
 parlor. There was nothing flaring, or coarse, or in bad 
 taste. The old fellow who knew a good deal about such 
 things, saw that every thing was of the costliest. The 
 ornaments on the mantel alone must have cost, at the 
 lowest estimation, twenty thousand francs. 
 
 " Clergeot," he said, " didn't exaggerate a bit." 
 
 Juliette's entrance disturbed his reflections. 
 
 She had taken off her dress, and had hastily thrown 
 about her a black dressing-gown, trimmed with cherry 
 satin. Her beautiful hair, slightly disordered after her 
 drive, fell in cascades upon her neck, and was fastened 
 behind her delicate ears. She dazzled Pere Tabaret ; and 
 yet he perfectly understood such follies. 
 
 " You wished to speak with me ? " she inquired, 
 bending graciously. 
 
 " Madame," replied Pere Tabaret, " I am a friend of 
 Noel Gerdy's, I may say his best friend, and " 
 
 " Pray sit down, monsieur," interrupted the lady. 
 
 She placed herself on a sofa, just showing the tips 
 of her little feet encased in slippers matching the dress ; 
 while the old man sat down in a chair. 
 
 " I come, madame," he began, " on very serious 
 business. Your presence at Monsieur Gerdy's house " 
 
 " Ah," cried Juliette to herself, " he knows of my 
 visit already ; he must be a detective." 
 
 " My dear child " began Tabaret, paternally. 
 
 " Oh ! I know, monsieur, what your errand is. Noel 
 has sent you to scold me. He is anxious to prevent my 
 coming to his house. Well, I don't want to go; but 
 it's annoying to have a puzzle for a lover, a man whom
 
 4io THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 nobody knows anything about, a riddle in a black coat 
 and white cravat, a sad and mysterious being "' 
 
 " You have been imprudent." 
 
 " Why ? Because he is going to get married ? He 
 has told you all about it, then ? " 
 
 " Suppose that that was not true." 
 
 " Oh, but it is ! He told that old shark Clergeot so, 
 who told me. Any way, he must be plotting something 
 in that head of his; for the last month he has 
 been so fickle ; he has changed so that I hardly recognize 
 him." 
 
 Pere Tabaret was especially anxious to know whether 
 Noel had prepared an alibi for the Tuesday of the crime. 
 That for him was the grand question. If he had, he 
 was certainly guilty ; if not, he might still be innocent. 
 Madame Juliette, he had no doubt, could make that point 
 perfectly clear. 
 
 Consequently he had come with his lesson all pre- 
 pared, his little trap all set. 
 
 The young lady's outburst disconcerted him a little ; 
 but he continued, trusting to the chances in conversa- 
 tion, 
 
 " Will you prevent Noel's marriage, then ? " 
 
 " His marriage ! " cried Juliette, bursting out into a 
 laugh ; " ah, the poor boy ! If he meets no worse ob- 
 stacle than myself, his path will be smooth. Let him 
 marry, this dear Noel, the sooner the better, and let me 
 hear no more of him." 
 
 " You don't love him, then ? " asked the old fellow, 
 surprised at this amiable frankness. 
 
 " Listen, monsieur. I did love him intensely ; but 
 that's all over now. For four years, I have passed an 
 intolerable existence, I, who am so fond of pleasure. 
 If Noel doesn't leave me, I shall have to leave him. I
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 4" 
 
 am tired of having a lover who blushes for me and de- 
 spises me." 
 
 " If he despises you, my dear, he scarcely shows -it 
 here," replied Pere Tabaret, casting a significant glance 
 about the room. 
 
 " You mean," said the girl, raising herself, " that 
 he spends a great deal for me. It is true. He pretends 
 that he has ruined himself for me; it's very possible. 
 But what's that to me? I am not a hard-hearted wo- 
 man; and I would much prefer less money and more 
 love. My follies have been inspired by anger and ennui. 
 Monsieur Gerdy treats me like a mercenary woman; 
 and so I act like one. We are quits." 
 
 " You know well that he worships you." 
 
 " He ? I tell you he is ashamed of me. He hides me 
 like a secret crime. You are the first of his friends to 
 whom I have ever spoken. Ask him if he has ever rid- 
 den out with me? It would seem as though my very 
 touch was dishonor. Why, no longer ago than last Tues- 
 day, we went to the theatre! He hired an entire box; 
 but do you think that he sat in it with me ? Not at all. 
 He slipped away ; and I saw no more of him the whole 
 evening." 
 
 " How ? Were you obliged to return home alone ? " 
 
 " No. At the end of the play, nearly midnight, he 
 deigned to reappear. Then we went to the opera ball, 
 where we took supper. Ah, that was charming! But, 
 at the ball, he didn't dare to let down his hood, or to 
 take off his mask. At supper, I had to treat him like a 
 perfect stranger, for fear of his friends." 
 
 This, then, was the alibi prepared in case of trouble. 
 
 Less wrapped up in her own passion, Juliette would 
 have noticed Pere Tabaret's looks, and would certainly 
 have checked herself.
 
 412 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 He was perfectly livid, and trembled like a leaf 
 
 " Well," he said, making a superhuman effort to ar- 
 ticulate his words, " the supper, I suppose, was none the 
 less gay for that." 
 
 " Gay ! " repeated the girl, shrugging her shoulders ; 
 " you would scarcely have known him. If you ever ask 
 him to dinner, take good care how you allow him to 
 drink. He made as merry over his wine as a drunken 
 sailor. At the second bottle, he was as light headed as a 
 cork ; so much so, that he lost every thing he had, his 
 coat, purse, umbrella, cigar-case " 
 
 Pere Tabaret hadn't strength enough to listen longer ; 
 he jumped to his feet like a furious madman. 
 
 " Miserable wretch ! " he cried to himself, " infamous 
 scoundrel ! It is he ; but I have him." 
 
 And he rushed out, leaving Juliette so terrified that 
 she called her maid. 
 
 " Child," said she, " I have made some dreadful blun- 
 der; have let some secret out. I know I have done 
 wrong; I feel it. That old fellow was no friend of 
 Noel's he came to circumvent me, to lead me by the 
 nose; and he has done it. Without a doubt I have 
 spoken against Noel. What could I have said ? I have 
 thought carefully ; but I can remember nothing : he must 
 be warned though. I will write him a line, while you 
 get a messenger." 
 
 Getting again into the hack, Pere Tabaret hurried to- 
 wards the prefecture of police. Noel an assassin ! His 
 hate was now without bounds, as formerly had been his 
 trusting love. He had been cruelly played with, unwor- 
 thily duped by the vilest, most criminal of men. He 
 thirsted for vengeance ; he tried to think of some punish- 
 ment which was not too small for the crime. 
 
 " For he has not only assassinated Claudine," thought
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 413 
 
 he, " but he has so arranged the whole thing as to have 
 an innocent man accused and condemned. And who 
 knows that he did not kill his poor mother ? " 
 
 He regretted the abolition of torture, the refined 
 cruelty of the middle ages, quartering, the stake, the 
 wheel. 
 
 The guillotine was too quick; the condemned man 
 had scarcely time to feel the cold steel cutting through 
 his muscles ; there is nothing but a single twitch of the 
 neck. In trying to soften the pain of death, it had been 
 made nowadays almost a pleasure. 
 
 The certainty of confronting Noel, of delivering him 
 up to justice, of taking vengeance upon him, alone kept 
 Tabaret up. 
 
 " It is clear," he muttered, " that the wretch forgot 
 those things at the railway, in his haste to rejoin his mis- 
 tress. Have they yet been called for? If he has had 
 the prudence to go boldly, and get them under a false 
 name, I can see no further proofs against him. The 
 testimony of this Madame Chaffour won't be on my side. 
 The hussy, seeing her lover in danger, will deny what 
 she has just told me: she will assert that Noel quitted 
 her after ten o'clock. But he can't have dared to go to 
 the railway again." 
 
 About the middle of the Rue Richelieu, Pefe Tabaret 
 was taken with a sudden faintness. 
 
 " I am going to have an attack, I fear," thought he, 
 " If I die, Noel will escape me, and will still be my heir. 
 A man ought always to keep his will constantly with 
 him, to destroy it, if he wishes." 
 
 Twenty paces on, he saw a doctor's sign : he stopped 
 the hack, and rushed into the house. 
 
 He was so excited, so beside himself, his eyes had 
 such an expression of wildness, that the doctor was al-
 
 4 i4 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 most afraid of this remarkable patient, who cried to 
 him hoarsely, 
 
 "Bleed me!" 
 
 The doctor ventured an objection ; but already the old 
 fellow had taken off his coat, and drawn up one of his 
 shirt-sleeves. 
 
 " Bleed me ! " he repeated. " Do you want me to 
 die?" 
 
 The doctor finally obeyed; and Pere Tabaret came 
 out quieted and relieved. 
 
 An hour later, armed with the necessary power, and 
 accompanied by a policeman, he proceeded to the depart- 
 ment of lost articles at the railway, to make the neces- 
 sary search. 
 
 His investigations resulted as he had expected. 
 
 He found that, on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, 
 there had been found in one of the second class com- 
 partments of train forty-five a great coat and an um- 
 brella. 
 
 They showed him the articles; and he recognized 
 them as Noel's. 
 
 In one of the pockets of the great coat, he found a 
 pair of pearl gray gloves, torn and soiled, as well as a 
 return ticket from Chatou, which had not been used. 
 
 In hurrying on, in pursuit of the truth, Pere Tabaret 
 knew only too well what this meant. 
 
 His conviction, unwillingly formed when Clergeot 
 disclosed to him Noel's follies, had been since strength- 
 ened by a thousand circumstances. At Juliette's 
 house he became positively sure; and yet, at this last 
 moment, when doubt became absolutely impossible, in 
 seeing the evidence cleared up, he was depressed. 
 
 " On," he cried at last. " Now to arrest him."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 415 
 
 And, without losing an instant, he hastened to the 
 palais de justice, where he hoped to find the judge of 
 inquiry. 
 
 Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Daburon 
 had not yet left his office. 
 
 He was conversing with the Count de Commarin, 
 giving him the facts revealed by Pierre Lerouge, whom 
 the count had believed dead many years since. 
 
 Pere Tabaret entered like a whirlwind, too distracted 
 to notice the presence of a stranger. 
 
 " Monsieur," he cried, stuttering with rage, " we have 
 got the real assassin ! It is he, my adopted son, my heir, 
 Noel ! " 
 
 " Noel ! " repeated Daburon, rising. And then, in a 
 lower tone, he added, " I had suspected it." 
 
 " A warrant is necessary at once," continued the old 
 detective. " If we lose a minute, he will slip through 
 our fingers. He will know that he is discovered, if his 
 mistress has time to warn him of my visit. Hasten, 
 monsieur, hasten ! " 
 
 Daburon opened his lips to ask an explanation; but 
 the old detective continued, 
 
 " That is not yet all. An innocent man, Albert, is 
 still in prison." 
 
 " He will not be so an hour longer," replied the mag- 
 istrate ; " a moment before your arrival, I had made 
 arrangements to have him released. But about this 
 other '' 
 
 Neither Pere Tabaret nor Daburon had noticed the 
 disappearance of the Count de Commarin. 
 
 At Noel's name he had gained the door quietly, and 
 rushed into the gallery.
 
 4i6 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 NOEL had promised to use every effort, to attempt 
 even the impossible, to obtain Albert's release. 
 
 He in fact did interview some members of the bar, 
 but managed to be repulsed everywhere. 
 
 At four o'clock, he called at the Count de Commarin's 
 house, to inform the count of the slight success he had 
 met. 
 
 " The count has gone out," said Denis ; " but if you 
 will take the trouble to wait " 
 
 " I will wait," answered Noel. 
 
 " Then," replied the valet, " will you please follow 
 me? I have the count's orders to take you into his 
 study," 
 
 This trust gave Noel an idea of his new power. He 
 was at home. Henceforth, in this magnificent house, he 
 was to be master, the heir ! His eye, which ran over 
 the entire room, was caught by a genealogical table, 
 hanging above the mantel. He went up to it, and read 
 it. 
 
 It was a page, and one of the most illustrious, taken 
 from the golden book of French nobility. Every name 
 which has a place in our history was there. The Com- 
 marins had mingled their blood with all the great houses, 
 two of them had even married daughters of the reigning 
 family. A warm glow of pride filled the advocate's 
 heart ; his pulse beat quicker : he raised his head 
 haughtily, as he muttered. 
 
 " Viscount de Commarin ! " 
 
 The door opened. He turned, and saw the count en- 
 tering. 
 
 At once Noel bowed respectfully. He was petrified
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 417 
 
 by the look of hatred, anger, contempt, on his father's 
 face. 
 
 A shiver ran through his veins. His teeth chattered ; 
 he saw that he was lost. 
 
 " Wretch ! " cried the count. 
 
 And, dreading his own violence, the old gentleman 
 threw his cane into a corner. 
 
 He was unwilling to strike his son ; he considered him 
 unworthy of being struck by his hands. 
 
 After he had entered, there was a moment of mortal 
 silence which seemed to them both a century. 
 
 Both at the same time were filled with bitter thoughts, 
 which would require a volume to transcribe. 
 
 Noel took courage, and spoke first. 
 
 " Monsieur," he began. 
 
 " Silence ! " exclaimed the count hoarsely ; " keep si- 
 lent. It may be heaven forgive me ! that you are my 
 son ! Alas, I cannot doubt it now ! Wretch ! you knew 
 well that you were Madame Gerdy's son. Infamous 
 creature! you have not only committed this murder, 
 but you have caused an innocent man to be charged with 
 your crime. Parricide! you have also killed your 
 mother." 
 
 The advocate attempted to stammer forth a protest. 
 
 " You killed her," continued the count with increased 
 energy, " if not by poison, at least by your crimes. I 
 understand all now ; she was not delirious this morning. 
 But you knew well what she would say. You were lis- 
 tening ; and, if you dared to enter at the moment when 
 one word would have destroyed you, it was because you 
 calculated the effect of your presence. It was to you 
 that she spoke that last word, ' Assassin ! ' : 
 
 Little by little, Noel had retired to the end of the 
 room ; and he stood leaning against the wall, his head
 
 418 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 thrown back, his hair on end, his eye haggard. A con- 
 vulsive shudder seized him. His face betrayed a terror 
 most horrible to see, the terror of a discovered crim- 
 inal. 
 
 " I know all, you see," continued the count ; " and I 
 am not alone in that knowledge. At this moment, a 
 warrant of arrest is issued against you." 
 
 A cry of rage, like a hollow rattle, burst from the ad- 
 vocate. His lips, which were hanging through terror, 
 now grew firm. Overwhelmed in the very midst of his 
 triumph, he struggled against his fright. He recovered 
 himself w r ith a look of defiance. 
 
 M. de Commarin, without seeming to pay any atten- 
 tion to Noel, approached a desk, and opened a drawer. 
 
 " My duty," said he, " would be to leave you to the 
 hangman who awaits you ; but I remember that I have 
 the misfortune to be your father. Sit down ; write and 
 sign a confession of your crime. You will then find 
 fire-arms in that drawer. May heaven forgive you ! " 
 
 The old gentleman moved towards the door. Noel 
 stopped him ; and drawing at the same time a revolver 
 from his pocket, 
 
 " Your fire-arms are needless, monsieur," he said. : 
 "my precautions, you see, are taken; they will never 
 take me alive. But " 
 
 " But? " repeated the count harshly. 
 
 " I must tell you, monsieur," continued the advocate 
 coldly, " that I do not see fit to kill myself, at least, at 
 present." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried M. de Commarin in disgust, " you are 
 a coward ! " 
 
 " No, monsieur, not a coward ; but I will not give in 
 until I am sure that every opening is closed against me, 
 that I cannot save myself."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 419 
 
 " Miserable wretch ! " said the count, threatening ; 
 " then I must do it." 
 
 He moved towards the drawer; but Noel closed it 
 with a slam. 
 
 " Listen to me, monsieur/' said the advocate in that 
 hoarse, quick tone, which imminent danger gives a man ; 
 " do not waste in vain words the few moments' respite 
 left me. I have committed a crime, it is true, and I do 
 not attempt to justify it; but who laid the foundation of 
 it, if not yourself? Now, you do me the favor of 
 offering me a pistol. Thanks. I must decline it. This 
 generosity is not through any regard for me : you only 
 wish to avoid the scandal of my trial, and the disgrace 
 which cannot fail to reflect upon your name/' 
 
 The count was about to reply. 
 
 " Give me leave," interrupted Noel imperiously. " I 
 decline killing myself ; I wish to save my life, if possible. 
 Supply me with the means of escape; and I promise 
 you that I will die before I am captured. I say, supply 
 me with means; for I have not twenty francs to my 
 name. My last bank note was burnt the day when 
 you understand me. There isn't enough in my mother's 
 house to give her a decent burial. Then, some money." 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " Then I will deliver myself up ; and you will see the 
 effect upon the name you hold so dear ! " 
 
 The count, mad with rage, jumped to his desk for a 
 pistol. Noel placed himself before him. 
 
 " Oh, do not struggle ! " said he coldly ; " I am the 
 strongest." 
 
 M. de Commarin recoiled. 
 
 By thus speaking of the trial, of scandal, disgrace, the 
 advocate had made an impression upon him. 
 
 For a moment hesitating between love for his name
 
 420 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 and his burning desire to see this wretch punished, the 
 old gentleman stood undecided. 
 
 Finally his feeling for his position triumphed. 
 
 " Let us end this," he said in a voice trembling and 
 filled with the utmost contempt ; " let us end this dis- 
 graceful scene. What do you ask ? " 
 
 " I have told you, money, all that you have here. 
 But decide quickly." 
 
 On Saturday the count had drawn from his bankers 
 the sum he had set aside for fitting up the rooms of him 
 whom he thought his legitimate child. 
 
 " I have eighty thousand francs here," he replied. 
 
 " That's very little," said the advocate ; " but give 
 them to me. I had counted upon five hundred thousand 
 francs from you. If I succeed in escaping my pursuers, 
 you must hold at my disposal the balance, four hundred 
 and twenty thousand francs. Will you pledge yourself 
 to give them to me at the first demand? I will find 
 some means of sending for them, without risk to myself. 
 At that price, you need never fear seeing me again." 
 
 For his only reply, the count opened a little iron chest 
 imbedded in the wall, and drew out a roll of bank notes, 
 which he threw at Noel's feet. 
 
 A gleam of anger flashed in the advocate's eyes, as he 
 took one step towards his father. 
 
 " Oh, do not push me too far ! " he said threaten- 
 ingly ; " people who, like me, having nothing to lose, 
 are dangerous. I may free myself, and " 
 
 He bent down, however, and picked up the notes. 
 
 " Will you give me your word," he continued, " to 
 let me have the rest ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I am going. Do not fear. I will be faithful 
 to our compact : they shall not take me alive. Adieu !
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 421 
 
 my father : you are the true criminal ; but you will es- 
 cape punishment. Ah, heaven is not just! I curse 
 you." 
 
 When, an hour later, the servants entered the count's 
 study, they found him stretched on the floor, his face 
 against the carpet, with scarcely a sign of life. 
 
 But Noel left the house, and staggered up the Rue 
 Universite. 
 
 It seemed to him that the pavement reeled beneath his 
 feet, and that every thing about him was turning. 
 
 But, at the same time, strange to relate, he felt an 
 'incredible relief, almost delight. 
 
 Honest Balan's theory was correct. 
 
 It was ended. All was over; he was ruined. No 
 more anguish now, no more useless fright and foolish 
 terrors, no more dissembling, struggling. Henceforth 
 there was nothing more to fear. His horrible role played 
 to the bitter end, he could lay aside his mask and breathe 
 freely. 
 
 An irresistible weariness succeeding to the highly- 
 wrought passion which had sustained him before the 
 count destroyed his impudent arrogance. All the springs 
 of his organization, stretched for a week beyond their 
 limits, now relaxed and gave way. The fever which for 
 the last eight days had kept him up failed him now ; and, 
 with the weariness, he felt an imperative need of rest. 
 He experienced a great void, an utter indifference for 
 every thing. 
 
 His insensibility bore a striking resemblance to that 
 felt by people afflicted with sea-sickness ; who care for 
 nothing, whom no sensations are capable of moving, who 
 have neither strength nor courage to think, and who 
 could not be aroused from their lethargy by the presence 
 of any great danger, not even of death itself.
 
 422 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 They might have arrested him then; and he would 
 never have thought of resisting, nor of defending him- 
 self : he could not have taken a step to hide, to fly, to 
 save himself in any way. 
 
 For a moment he had serious thoughts of giving him- 
 self up as a prisoner, in order to secure peace, to gain 
 quiet, to free himself from this anxiety about his safety. 
 
 But he struggled against this dull stupor. The reac- 
 tion came, shaking off this weakness of mind and body. 
 
 The consciousness of his position, of his danger, came 
 to him. He foresaw, with horror, the scaffold, as one 
 sees the abyss by the flashes of lightning. 
 
 " I must save my life," he thought ; " but how ? " 
 
 That mortal terror which deprives the assassin of even 
 ordinary common sense seized him. 
 
 He looked eagerly about him, and thought he noticed 
 three or four passers by look at him curiously. His ter- 
 ror increased. 
 
 He began running in the direction of the Latin quar- 
 ter without purpose, without aim, running for the sake 
 of running, to escape himself, like Crime, as repre- 
 sented by the painter, fleeing under the lashes of the 
 furies. 
 
 He very soon stopped however, seeing that this ex- 
 traordinary procedure attracted attention. 
 
 It seemed that every one was on the point of de- 
 nouncing him as the murderer : he thought he read con- 
 tempt and horror upon every face, suspicion in every 
 eye. 
 
 He walked along, instinctively repeating to himself, 
 
 " I must follow some plan ! '' 
 
 But, in this horrible excitement, he was incapable of 
 seeing any thing, of thinking, planning, determining, 
 deciding.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 423 
 
 When he first thought of the crime, he had said to 
 himself, " I may be discovered," And, with this in 
 sight, he had perfected a plan which should put him be- 
 yond all fear of pursuit. He would do this and that; 
 he would have recourse to this ruse, he would take that 
 precaution. Useless forethought. Nothing of this plan 
 seemed feasible now. They were seeking for him ; and 
 he could think of no place in the whole world where he 
 would feel perfectly safe. 
 
 He was near the Odeon, when a thought quicker than 
 a flash of lightning lit up the darkness of his brain. 
 
 He thought that they were doubtless already in pur- 
 suit of him ; his description would be given everywhere ; 
 his white cravat and well-dressed whiskers would betray 
 him as surely as though he carried a placard. 
 
 Seeing a barber's shop, he went to the door ; but, while 
 turning the knob, he grew frightened. 
 
 They would think it singular that he wanted his beard 
 shaved ; and if they should question him. 
 
 He passed on. 
 
 He saw another barber's shop; and the same doubts 
 prevented his entering. 
 
 Gradually night came on ; and, with the darkness, 
 Noel seemed to recover his confidence and boldness. 
 
 After this great shipwreck in port, hope arose again 
 to the surface. Why could he not save himself ? 
 
 There had been many just such cases. He would go 
 to a foreign country, change his name, begin life over 
 again, become a new man entirely. He had the money ; 
 and that was the principal thing. 
 
 And, besides, when these eighty thousand francs were 
 spent, he had the certainty of receiving, on his first re- 
 quest, five or six times as much more. 
 
 He was already thinking of the disguise he should
 
 424 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 assume, and the frontier to which he should go, when a 
 recollection of Juliette crossed his heart like a hot iron. 
 
 Was he going to escape without her, go away with the 
 certainty of never seeing her again ? 
 
 Should he fly. pursued by all the police in the world, 
 tracked like a deer, and she remain peaceably in Paris? 
 Impossible. For whom had he committed this crime? 
 For her. Who reaped the benefits of it ? She. Was it 
 not just, then, that she should bear her share of the pun- 
 ishment ? 
 
 " She does not love me/' thought the advocate with 
 bitterness ; " she never loved me. She would be de- 
 lighted to be forever free from me. She will not regret 
 me, now that I can be of no more use to her. An empty 
 coffer is an unserviceable piece of furniture. Juliette 
 is prudent ; she has managed to save a pretty little for- 
 tune. Grown rich at my expense, she will take some 
 new lover. She will forget me: she will live happily; 
 while I And I was going away without her." 
 
 The voice of prudence cried out to him, " Wretched 
 man ! to drag a woman with you, and such a woman, is 
 but to draw attention upon you, to render flight impossi- 
 ble, to give yourself up out of mere wantonness." 
 
 "What of that?" replied passion. "We will be 
 saved, or we will perish together. If she does not love 
 me, I love her. She is a necessity to me. She must 
 come, or " 
 
 But how to see Juliette, to speak with her, to persuade 
 her. 
 
 To go to her house would expose him too much. The 
 police were doubtless there already. 
 
 " No," thought Noel ; " no one knows that she is my 
 mistress. They won't find it out for two or three days ; 
 and, besides, it would be more dangerous still to write."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 425 
 
 He took a carriage from the stand not far from the 
 square L'Observatoire, and in a low tone told the driver 
 the fatal number of the house in the Rue Provence. 
 
 Stretched on the cushions of the carriage, lulled by its 
 monotonous rattle, Noel gave no thought to the future ; 
 he did not even think over what he should say to Juli- 
 ette. No. Involuntarily he passed in review the events 
 which had brought on and hastened the catastrophe, like 
 a man who, near his death, reviews the tragedy or com- 
 edy of his life. 
 
 He thought over the past month, day by day. 
 
 Ruined, without expedients, without resources, he had 
 determined at all hazards to procure money, to still keep 
 Madame Juliette ; when one day chance made him mas- 
 ter of the correspondence of the Count de Commarin, 
 not only the letters read to Pere Tabaret, and shown to 
 Albert, but also those, which, written by the count when 
 he believed the substitution accomplished, plainly estab- 
 lished the fact. 
 
 The reading of these gave him an hour of mad de- 
 light. 
 
 He believed himself the legitimate son ; but soon his 
 mother undeceived him, told him the truth, proved it to 
 him by many letters from the Widow Lerouge, called 
 Claudine to witness it, and demonstrated it by the scar 
 he bore. 
 
 But a drowning man never chooses what branch he 
 will draw himself out by. He takes the first that comes. 
 Noel resolved to make use of these letters. 
 
 He attempted to use his ascendancy over his mother, 
 to induce her to leave the count in his ignorance, so that 
 he might thus blackmail him. But Madame Gerdy re- 
 pulsed this proposition with horror. 
 
 Then the advocate made a confession of all his follies,
 
 426 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 laid bare his financial condition, showed himself in his 
 true light, sunk in debt; and he begged his mother to 
 have recourse to M. de Commarin. 
 
 This also she refused ; and prayers and threats availed 
 nothing against her resolution. For five days, there was 
 a great struggle between mother and son, in which the 
 advocate was finally conquered. 
 
 It was then that idea of murdering Claudine occurred 
 to him. 
 
 The unhappy woman had been no more frank with 
 Madame Gerdy than with others; and Noel thought 
 her a widow. Her testimony suppressed, therefore, who 
 else stood in his way ? 
 
 Madame Gerdy, and perhaps the count. 
 
 He feared them but little. 
 
 If Madame Gerdy spoke, he could always reply, " You 
 have stolen my name for your son : and you will do any- 
 thing in the world to preserve it for him." But how to 
 do away with Claudine without danger? 
 
 After long reflection the advocate thought of a dia- 
 bolical stratagem. 
 
 He would burn all the count's letters establishing the 
 substitution, and preserve only those rendering it prob- 
 able. 
 
 These last he would show to Albert, feeling sure, that, 
 if Justice ever inquired into the matter, it would natu- 
 rally suspect him who appeared to have so much inter- 
 est in Claudine's death. 
 
 Not that he really thought of attaching the crime upon 
 Albert; it was simply a precaution. He counted upon 
 so arranging matters that the police would lose their 
 trouble, in the pursuit of an imaginary criminal. 
 
 Nor did he think of ousting the Viscount de Com- 
 marin. and putting himself in his place.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 His plan was simply, the crime once committed, he 
 would wait; things would take their own course. He 
 would negotiate, he would compromise, at the price of a 
 fortune. 
 
 He felt sure of his mother's silence, provided she never 
 suspected him of the assassination. 
 
 His plans 'laid, he decided to strike the fatal blow on 
 Shrove Tuesday. 
 
 To neglect no precaution, he would that evening him- 
 self take Juliette to the theatre, and afterwards to the 
 opera ball. He would thus secure, in case things went 
 wrong, an unanswerable alibi. 
 
 The loss of his great coat troubled him for a moment ; 
 but, upon reflection, he reassured himself, saying, 
 
 " Pshaw ! who will ever know ? " 
 
 Every thing had resulted in accordance with his cal- 
 culations. He thought that now it was but a matter of 
 patience. 
 
 But, when Madame Gerdy read the story of the mur- 
 der, the unhappy woman divined her son's work; and, 
 in the first transports of her grief, she declared that she 
 would denounce him. 
 
 He was terrified. A mad fear of his mother possessed 
 him. One word from her might destroy him. Putting 
 a bold face on it, however, he took the chances, staking 
 his all. 
 
 To put the police on Albert's track was to guar- 
 antee his own safety, to insure to himself, in case of suc- 
 cess, the name and fortune of the Count de Com- 
 marin. 
 
 Circumstances, as well as his own terror, had in- 
 creased his boldness and his acuteness. 
 
 Pere Tabaret's visit occurred just then. 
 
 Noel knew of his connection with the police, and knew
 
 428 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 that the old fellow would make a most valuable confi- 
 dant. 
 
 So long as Madame Gerdy lived, Noel trembled. The 
 fever was untrustworthy, and might betray him. But, 
 when she had breathed her last, he believed himself safe. 
 He thought it all over ; he could see no obstacle in his 
 way; he had triumphed. 
 
 And now all was discovered, just as he was about to 
 reap the benefits. But how ? by whom ? What fatality 
 had unearthed a secret which he had believed buried with 
 Madame Gerdy? 
 
 But what boots it, when one is at the bottom of an 
 abyss, to know what stone had given way, to ask by what 
 descent he had fallen ? 
 
 The hack stopped in the Rue Provence. 
 
 Noel leaned out of the door, searching the neighbor- 
 hood, throwing a glance into the depths of the porter's 
 lodge. 
 
 Seeing no one, he paid his fare through the front win- 
 dow, before getting out of the carriage, and, crossing 
 the pavement with a bound, he leaped up the stairway. 
 
 Charlotte, at sight of him, gave a shout of joy. 
 
 " You are here ! '' she cried. " Ah, madame has been 
 "expecting you with the greatest impatience! She is 
 very anxious." 
 
 Juliette expecting him ! Juliette anxious ! 
 
 The advocate did not stop to ask questions. On reach- 
 ing this spot, he seemed suddenly to recover his coolness. 
 He could understand his imprudence ; he knew the exact 
 value of every instant. 
 
 " If any one rings," said he to Charlotte, " don't let 
 them in. No matter what they do or say, don't let them 
 in." 
 
 On hearing Noel's voice, Juliette ran out to meet him.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 429 
 
 He pushed her gruffly into the salon, and followed, clos- 
 ing the door. 
 
 There for the first time she saw his face. 
 
 He was so changed ; his look was so haggard that she 
 could not keep from crying out, 
 
 " What is the matter? " 
 
 Noel made no reply ; he advanced towards and took 
 her hand. 
 
 " Juliette," he demanded in a hollow voice, fastening 
 his flashing eyes upon her, " Juliette, be sincere ; do 
 you love me ? " 
 
 She instinctively felt that something dreadful had 
 occurred : she seemed to breathe an atmosphere of evil ; 
 but she, as usual, affected indifference. 
 
 " You ill-natured fellow/' she replied, pouting her 
 lips most provokingly, " do you deserve " 
 
 " Oh, enough ! " broke in Noel, stamping his feet 
 fiercely. " Answer me," he continued, bruising her 
 pretty hands in his grasp, " yes, or no, do you love 
 me?" 
 
 A hundred times had she played with her lover's an- 
 ger, delighting to excite him into a fury, to enjoy the 
 pleasure of appeasing him with a word; but she had 
 never seen him like this before. 
 
 She had wronged him greatly; and she dared not 
 complain of this his first harshness. 
 
 " Yes, I love you," she stammered, " do you not know 
 it?" 
 
 " Why ? " replied the advocate, releasing her hands ; 
 " why? Because, if you love me you must prove it; if 
 you love me, you must follow me at once, abandon 
 every thing. Come, fly with me. Time presses " 
 
 The young girl was terrified. 
 
 " Great heavens ! what has happened ? "
 
 430 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " Nothing, except that I have loved you too much, 
 Juliette. When I found I had no more money for your 
 luxury, your caprices, I became wild. To procure money, 
 I, I committed a crime, a crime ; do you understand ? 
 They are pursuing me now. I must fly : will you fol- 
 low me ? " 
 
 Juliette's eyes grew wide with astonishment ; but she 
 . doubted Noel. 
 
 " A crime ? You ? " she began. 
 
 " Yes, me ! Would you know the truth ? I have 
 committed murder, an assassination. But it was all 
 for you." 
 
 The advocate felt that Juliette would certainly recoil 
 from him in horror. He expected that terror which a 
 murderer inspires. He was resigned to it in advance. 
 He thought that she would fly from him ; perhaps there 
 would be a scene. She might, who knows, have hys- 
 terics ; might cry out, call for succor, for help, for aid. 
 He was wrong. 
 
 With a bound, Juliette flew to him, throwing herself 
 upon him, her arms about his neck, and embraced him as 
 she had never embraced him before. 
 
 " Yes, I do love you ! " she cried. " Yes, you have 
 committed a crime for my sake, because you loved me. 
 You have a heart. I never really knew you before ! " 
 
 It had cost him dear to inspire this passion in Madame 
 Juliette ; but Noel never thought of that. 
 
 He experienced a moment of intense delight : nothing 
 appeared hopeless to him now. 
 
 But he had the presence of mind to free himself from 
 her embrace 
 
 " Let us go," he said ; " the one great danger is, that 
 I do not know from whence the attack comes. How 
 they have discovered the truth is still a mystery to me."
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 431 
 
 Juliette remembered her alarming visitor of the after- 
 noon ; she understood it all. 
 
 " Oh, what a wretched woman I am ! " she cried, 
 wringing her hands in despair ; " it is I who have be- 
 trayed you. It occurred on Tuesday, did it not ? '' 
 
 " Yes, Tuesday." 
 
 " Ah, then I have told all, without a doubt, to your 
 friend, the old man I supposed you had sent, Ta- 
 baret ! " 
 
 " Has Tabaret been here ? " 
 
 " Yes ; just a little while ago." 
 
 " Come, then," cried Noel, " quickly ; it's a miracle 
 that he hasn't been back." 
 
 He took her arm, to hurry her away ; but she nimbly 
 released herself. 
 
 " Wait," said she. " I have some money, some jew- 
 els. I will take them/' 
 
 " It is useless. Leave every thing behind. I have a 
 fortune, Juliette ; let us fly ! " 
 
 She had already opened her jewel box, and was throw- 
 ing every thing of value that she possessed pell mell into 
 a little travelling bag. 
 
 " Ah, you are ruining me," cried Noel, " you are ruin- 
 ing me ! " 
 
 He spoke thus; but his heart was overflowing with 
 joy. 
 
 " What sublime devotion ! She loves me truly," he 
 said to himself ; " for me, she renounces this happy life 
 without hesitation ; for me, she sacrifices all ! " 
 
 Juliette had finished her preparations, and was quietly 
 tying on her bonnet, when the door-bell rang. 
 
 " They are here ! " cried Noel, becoming, if possible, 
 even more livid. 
 
 They stood as immovable as two statues ; great drops
 
 432 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 of perspiration on their foreheads, their eyes dilated, 
 listening breathlessly. 
 
 A second ring was heard, then a third. 
 
 Charlotte appeared, walking on tip-toe. 
 
 " There are a great many at the door," she whispered ; 
 " I heard them talking together." 
 
 Growing tired of ringing, they began pounding. A 
 voice reached the salon ; they distinguished but the one 
 word, " law." 
 
 " No hope ! " murmured Noel. 
 
 " Don't despair," cried Juliette ; " the servant's stair- 
 way!" 
 
 " They will scarcely leave that unguarded." 
 
 Then Juliette became depressed, terrified. 
 
 She was surprised by heavy steps on the stairway, 
 made by some one endeavoring to walk softly. 
 
 " There must be some escape ! " she cried fiercely. 
 
 " Yes," replied Noel, " one way. I have given my 
 word. They will pick the lock. Bolt all the doors, and 
 make them break them down : it will gain time for me." 
 
 Juliette and Charlotte sprang forward to do this, 
 Noel, leaning against the mantel, took out his revolver, 
 and placed it against his breast. 
 
 But Juliette, who had returned, perceiving the move- 
 ment, threw herself headlong upon her lover, to prevent 
 his purpose, but so violently that the pistol was dis- 
 charged. The shot took effect, the ball passing through 
 Noel's stomach. He gave a terrible cry. 
 
 Juliette had made his death a terrible punishment ; she 
 had only prolonged his agony. 
 
 He staggered, but did not fall, supporting himself by 
 the mantel, while the blood flowed copiously. 
 
 Juliette clung to him, trying to wrest the pistol from 
 him.
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 433 
 
 " You shall not kill yourself," she cried, " you shall 
 not. You are mine ; I love you. Let them come. What 
 can they do to you? If they imprison you, you can es- 
 cape. I will aid you : we will bribe the jailors. Come. 
 We will live so happily, no matter where, far off in 
 America where no one knows us ! " 
 
 The outside door had yielded ; they were now at work 
 at the door of the ante-chamber. 
 
 " Hush ! " murmured Noel ; " they must not take 
 me alive ! " 
 
 And, with one last effort, triumphing over his dread- 
 ful agony, he released himself, and pushed Juliette away, 
 who fell back on a near sofa. 
 
 Then, seizing the revolver, he applied it anew to the 
 place where he felt his heart beating pulled the trigger, 
 and rolled to the floor. 
 
 It was full time ; for the police at that moment burst 
 open the door. 
 
 The first thought of the detectives was, that Noel, be- 
 fore shooting himself, had shot his mistress. 
 
 They knew of cases where people had romantically 
 desired to quit this world together; and had they not 
 heard two shots? But Juliette was already on her feet 
 again. 
 
 " A doctor," she cried, " a doctor ! He cannot be 
 dead ! " 
 
 One man ran out ; while the others, under the direc- 
 tion of Pere Tabaret, carried the advocate's body, and 
 laid it on Madame Juliette's bed. 
 
 "He cannot live ! " murmured the old man, whose 
 anger left him at the sight. " I loved him as though 
 he were my child ; his name is still on my will ! " 
 
 Pere Tabaret stopped. Noel uttered a groan, and 
 opened his eyes.
 
 434 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 " You see that he will live ! " cried Juliette. 
 
 The advocate shook his head feebly, and, for a mo- 
 ment, he tossed himself painfully on the bed, passing his 
 right hand first under his coat, and then under his pillow. 
 
 He turned himself half-way towards the wall, and 
 then back again. 
 
 Upon a sign, easily understood, they placed another 
 pillow beneath his head. 
 
 Then, in a broken, stifled voice, he spoke a few words. 
 
 " I am the assassin," he said. " Write, I will sign it ; 
 it will free Albert. I owe him that at least." 
 
 While they were writing, he drew Juliette to him. 
 
 " My fortune is beneath the pillow," he whispered. 
 " I give it all to you." 
 
 A flow of blood burst from his mouth; and they 
 thought he was dying. 
 
 But he still had strength enough to sign the confes- 
 sion, and to launch a joke at Pere Tabaret. 
 
 " Ah, ha, old fellow ! " he said, " so you are a de- 
 tective, eh ? It must be great fun to trap one's friends ! 
 Ah, I have had a fine game ; but, with three women in 
 the play, you are always sure to lose." 
 
 He fell back in agony ; and, when the doctor arrived, 
 he could only announce the death of Maitre Noel Gerdy, 
 advocate. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SOME months later, one evening, at old Mademoiselle 
 Goello's, the Marquise d'Arlanges, looking ten years 
 younger than when we saw her last, was giving her dow- 
 ager friends an account of the wedding of her grand- 
 daughter Claire, who had married the Viscount Albert 
 de Commarin,
 
 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 435 
 
 " The marriage," said she, " took place on our estate 
 in Normandy, without any flourish of trumpets. My 
 son-in-law wished it; but I disapproved heartily. The 
 noise about the mistake of which he had been the victim 
 would have given eclat to the wedding. That was my 
 opinion ; and I made no effort to conceal it. Pshaw ! 
 the boy is as stubborn as his father, which is saying a 
 good deal : he persisted in his course ; and my shameless 
 grandchild, obedient to her future husband, took her 
 stand against me. And yet I defy any one to find to-day 
 a single individual with courage enough to confess that 
 he ever for an instant doubted Albert's innocence. I 
 have left the young people in all the happiness of the 
 honeymoon, billing and cooing like a pair of turtle-doves. 
 It must be confessed that they have paid dearly for their 
 happiness. May they be happy, and may they have 
 lots of children! for they will find no difficulty in pro- 
 viding for them. For, do you know, for the first time in 
 his life, and probably for the last, the count has behaved 
 like an angel ! He has settled all his fortune on his son 
 absolutely. He intends. living alone at one of his coun- 
 try-seats. I don't think the old man is quite himself. I 
 am not sure that he has entirely recovered his head since 
 that attack; but my grandchild is nicely settled. I 
 know what it has cost me, and how economical I shall 
 have to be; but I despise parents who hesitate at any 
 pecuniary sacrifice, when the happiness of their children 
 is at stake." 
 
 The marquise forgot, however, to state that, eight days 
 before the wedding, Albert had freed her from a very 
 embarrassing situation, and had discharged a very con- 
 siderable amount of her debts. 
 
 Since then, she had borrowed from him only nine 
 thousand francs; but she intended confessing to him
 
 436 THE WIDOW LEROUGE 
 
 some day how much she was annoyed by an upholsterer, 
 by her dressmaker, by three linen drapers, and by five or 
 six other tradesmen. 
 
 Ah, well, she was a worthy woman; she never said 
 any evil about her son-in-law ! 
 
 Taking refuge in Poitou, after sending in his resigna- 
 tion, Daburon sought rest and forgetfulness. His 
 friends, however, do not despair of some time inducing 
 him to marry. 
 
 Madame Juliette was entirely consoled. The eighty 
 thousand francs hidden by Noel under the pillows were 
 not taken from her. She had much more beside, as it 
 was not long before the sale of her magnificently fur- 
 nished apartments was announced. 
 
 Pere Tabaret was alone indelibly impressed. After 
 having believed in the infallibility of justice, he now saw 
 no errors so great as judicial ones. 
 
 The old amateur detective doubted the existence of 
 crime, and believed that the evidence of one's senses 
 proved nothing. He circulated a petition for the aboli- 
 tion of capital punishment, and organized a society for 
 aiding the poor and innocent accused. 
 
 THE END.

 
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