Adventures of Susan Hopley/Volume 1/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII.
CONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF JULIE'S PARENTS.
"It was not till towards mid-day that, by the arrival of Bontems and an officer to search Valentine's chamber for proofs of his criminality, Julie learned he was thrown into prison, for having on the preceding night attempted to assassinate a gentleman of the name of Bruneau.
"'He has a daughter that Monsieur Bruneau?' inquired she eagerly.
"'No,' replied Bontems, 'I believe not.'
"'A niece then? or perhaps a wife? Some female connexion living with him?'
"'Certainly not living with him,' replied Bontems. 'He is an elderly man, and has no one in the house but two maid-servants.'
"'Mr. Valentine is a very respectable young man,' said Julie, whose jealous ire was quelled by this last assertion of the clerk's. 'It is impossible he can be guilty. What motive could he have?'
"'That remains to be discovered,' returned Bontems. 'My opinion is that he has been an agent for somebody else.'
"'Bah!' cried Julie indignantly. 'Valentine act the part of a hired assassin! It would be easier to believe he did it on his own account than that. But what does he say himself?'
"'Ah! that will come out on the trial,' answered the cautious Bontems.
"'I must know before that,' thought she; and equipping herself in her bonnet and shawl, she started for the prison.
"'I don't know whether I ought to admit you, ma belle dame,' said the gaoler; 'but as no orders are yet given to the contrary, entrez!' and he conducted her to Valentine's cell. There, with his elbows resting on his knees and his head on his hands, she found the unhappy young man.
"'Julie!' cried he, starting, as he raised his head and saw who it was; "comment c'est vous, ici?'
"'Sans doute,' said she, calmly seating herself by his side on the ground, 'n'est ce pas bien l'occasion? Do you not need assistance?'
"'What assistance can you give me, Julie?' said he kindly, affected by her devotion.
"'Reste à voir,' replied she, 'time will show that. En attendant, tell me your story.—You are innocent?'
"'As you are yourself,' returned he. 'But the evidence against me is so circumstantial, that I see no possibility of justification.'
"After detailing to her all the occurrences of the night, 'you see,' he continued, 'all my chance of safety rests on the discovery of the stranger who fetched me. But what hope is there of that? I can give no clue; I should not know him if I met him in this room, for I never saw his face. It is not likely he'll come forward of his own accord, for he must doubtless either be the assassin himself, or be connected with him. No, there is no hope!' cried he, giving way to his despair; 'I must die the death of a murderer, and leave a blasted name behind me.'
"'Il faut partir toute suite, madame,' said the gaoler interrupting them; 'orders are arrived that no one is to be admitted to the prisoner.'
"'Adieu,' said Julie, as she took her leave. 'Je vais travailler pour vous.'
"All the circumstances Valentine had related corresponded so exactly with what she had herself witnessed, that she never doubted for a moment the truth of his story; but she saw that her evidence would tend nothing to his exculpation; although she were to brave the exposure of her motives, by coming forward to give it. 'Il faut déterrer cet homme là,' said she to herself, as she mused on the means of extricating Valentine—'et alors peut être—then perhaps—if I could be the means of saving his life—myself—by my own courage and address—then perhaps—eh bien! En avant! et puis nous verrons.'
"'Madeleine,' said she, shutting herself into her chamber with her confidante. 'I have a project in hand in which you must assist me.'
"'Eh bien, mademoiselle,' said Madeleine, 'what is it?'
"'I want a suit of boy's clothes that would fit me. How can I get them?'
"'Ah ça, c'est drôle!' said Madeleine; 'mais voyons. Mr. Valentine's would be too large—quoiqu'il est petit, Monsieur Valentine.'
"'Much too large,' replied Julie; 'besides, I should prefer a more ordinary suit.'
"'Tope!' cried Madeleine, 'je l'ai trouvé. Voulez vous être laquais?'
"'A footman! The very thing replied Julie. Where can I get a livery?'
"'Chez nous, at my aunt's,' returned Madeleine. 'There's a little vaurien there—he was page to Madame la Comtesse de Rodement—-but he was turned off for his espiègleries, and he is lodging at our house. He has two suits; and no doubt will be glad enough to lend you one for a trifle.'
"'Go, then, directly,' said Julie, 'and fetch it; for there is no time to be lost;' and away went Madeleine, the interval of whose absence Julie employed in cutting off her hair.
"'Dieu!' cried Madeleine, when she returned, staring at her, 'quel dommage! Vos beaux cheveux!'
"'Never mind;' said Julie, 'what does it signify? It will grow again. You must cut it closer behind for me, still, or it may spoil all.'
"'Quelle folie d'amour!' said Madeleine, as she unwillingly clipped away the hair that Julie had not been able to reach. The page's suit fitted quite well enough for Julie's purpose, and when fully equipped she looked like a smart lad of fifteen or sixteen.
"'Now,' said Julie, 'if I don't return tonight, or even to-morrow, you have no occasion to be alarmed. I am not going into any danger, I assure you; and if any one inquires for me, say, I am gone to stay a few days with my aunt.'
"'Bien,' replied Madeleine, 'I will. Mais, Dieu!' she exclaimed, as the suspicion struck her, 'you're not going to shut yourself up with Mr. Valentine in the maison forte?'
"'Not I,' said Julie, 'what good would that do?'
"'Car, Mademoiselle,' said Madeleine, 'vous savez qu'un jeune homme est toujours un jeune homme, maison forte ou ailleurs; et que quoique vous soyez mise en garçon, vous êtes demoiselle, tout de même.'
"In spite of her eagerness to commence her enterprise, Julie had to wait upwards of an hour before she dared venture into the street; for till the evening had closed in, she did not think it prudent to risk the chance of being seen to leave the house by her neighbours and acquaintance, lest any suspicion should be awakened; besides, that being a novice in her part, she preferred making her début by candlelight. As soon, however, as the dusk of the evening gave her confidence, manfully she sallied forth, and took her way towards the cabaret. to which she had followed the stranger the night before.
"'Peut on entrer?' said she stepping in to a small room or kitchen on the right of the passage, the door of which was ajar, and from which voices were heard to proceed—'peut on entrer?' and she took off her hat with a boyish grace that gave good earnest of her abilities for the part she had undertaken.
"'Entrez donc, mon beau monsieur,' said a withered, haggish looking old woman, with an array of wrinkles that none but an old Frenchwoman could show, who sat knitting on one side of the large, open chimney, where a brisk wood fire was burning on the hearth; 'entrez donc.' 'It rains like the devil,' said Julie, shaking the rain from her hat, considering the devil as part of her 'stage directions.'
"'Make a corner for the youth,' said the old woman to those who sat round the fire—'don't you see he is dripping?'
"The seats were pushed a little aside, and a chair drawn forward for Julie, who had now an opportunity of seeing the faces of the company.
"There was no woman present but the one that had spoken to her, who was evidently the hostess; the men were six in number, apparently of very low grade, with one exception.
"The first glance convinced Julie that not one of them could be the man she sought, unless it were he who formed the exception. The others had all the air and dress of artizans, mechanics, or labourers, but it would have been difficult to assign to this man his exact position in society. His dress was that of a gentleman, but it occurred to Julie that he was not its first wearer. He sat exactly opposite to the old woman on the other side of the hearth; he appeared quite at home, and it was he who had handed Julie a chair. The hostess called him by the name of Rodolphe; the others addressed him as Monsieur Rodolphe. As she had not seen the face of the stranger she had traced to the cabaret on the preceding night, Julie had nothing to guide her but height, the figure even having been too much enveloped by the cloak to leave her any notion of it; but with respect to height, she thought, when he rose to give her a seat, that there was a considerable resemblance.
"'Quel tems! What weather!' said one of the company, as Julie seated herself.
"'The vineyards are drowning,' said another who appeared to be an agriculturist.
"'We shan't get wine for our money if this weather continue,' observed an artizan.
"'Messieurs,' said the hostess, the price is risen already, d'un sous la bouteille.'
"'Sacre!' exclaimed the last speaker.
"'Won't you take something?' said the hostess to Julie, 'to keep out the cold? Nous avons bonne bière de Mars, ou même de l'eau de vie, si vous le desiriez.'
"'I should prefer wine,' replied Julie, who comprehended that to say no would spoil her welcome.
"The old woman arose and produced the wine, assuring her that for the price there was none better in Nantes.
"'Madame et Messieurs,' said Julie, 'will you pledge me?' and after pouring herself out a small quantity she sent round the bottle, which returned to her emptied of its contents. The evidently favourable impression produced by this liberal proceeding, induced her to call for a second.
"'Ah ça!' exclaimed one, 'there is nothing like wine, after all; cela échauffe les entrailles.'
"'When will the moon change?' inquired another.
"'She is in her last quarter, I think,' said the artizan.
"'Pardon,' said the labourer, 'we had a new moon last night.'
"'A bad beginning,' observed a third, 'for I fancy it rained the whole night.'
"'By no means,' said Rodolphe, 'you are mistaken, the weather was fine the first part of the night. The rain began to fall just as the clock struck three.'
"Julie's heart bounded—'c'est lui!' she said to herself.
"'C'est la livrée de Rodemont que vous portez là, mon beau monsieur?' said the old woman.
"'Yes,' said Julie, it's the Rodemont livery.'
"'You're in a good service,' added the old woman.
"'I was,' replied Julie, shrugging her shoulders expressively.
"'Comment! On vous a chassé?' inquired the hostess.
"'Worse luck,' said Julie, but I hope to get back again.'
"'Vous avez commis quelque faute?' said the hostess.
"'Espiègleries,' returned Julie.
"'Bah!' said the old woman, 'young heads! young heads! what can be expected?'
"'I wonder,' thought Julie, 'if this Rodolphe lives here, or is only a visitor like the rest—for I must, somehow or another, contrive to keep him in view, till I can be sure he is the man I seek.'
"The consequences of making a mistake she saw would be fatal, as it might give the real criminal, whoever he were, time and warning to escape.
"The conversation, after turning on a variety of subjects, was beginning somewhat to flag, when one of the company said, 'What is this story about a murder? does any body know? I heard some shopman had stabbed his master and was carried to prison.'
"'Not his master,' said the artizan, 'a certain Monsieur Bruneau, a proprietaire.'
"'Bruneau!' exclaimed the old woman and Rodolphe at the same moment, in accents of astonishment.
"'Ce n'est pas lui,' said Julie to herself. 'That surprise is genuine.'
"'I think that was the name I heard,' said the artizan; 'I was passing the maison forte as the criminal was carried in, and I inquired of the people that were standing by, what he had done.'
"'And what was it?' said Rodolphe and the old woman together.
"'Broken into the house of this Monsieur Bruneau, as I understood,' replied the artizan, 'for the purpose of robbing him, and meeting with some resistance he attempted to murder the old gentleman, who, however, succeeded in securing the villain, and kept him fast till the arrival of the police.'
"The eyes of Rodolphe and the old woman met, and astonishment was depicted on the countenances of both.
"'And this was last night?' inquired Rodolphe.
"'Précisément,' said the artizan, 'they were taking him to prison as I passed to my work this morning.'
"'What sort of person was the criminal?' inquired Rodolphe.
"A little man—young—perhaps five-and-twenty,' returned the artizan.
"The old woman and Rodolphe were evidently anxious for more information, but nobody present could give any. The conversation, from this, turned upon murders and robberies, and the crimes that had been lately committed, in which the hostess and Rodolphe took very little part, the minds of both, according to Julie's observation, being occupied with what they had heard. She observed several expressive glances pass between them, and after a short time had elapsed, Rodolphe arose, and taking down his hat that was hanging on a peg against the wall, he said he was sorry to be obliged to leave the company, and went out.
"That he was gone for the purpose of investigating the report he had heard, was as evident to her as if he had told her so; and she felt quite satisfied that he not only knew something about Mr. Bruneau, but that he was, on some account or other, particularly interested in the intelligence he had just received. Still, that he was either the criminal, or concerned with him, she doubted. The emotion betrayed both by him and the old woman, was that of surprise, curiosity, and interest; not fear or confusion. But might not that confidence arise from his absolute certainty of not being known, and from his assurance that by shutting Valentine up in the room with the wounded man, he had effectually shifted all chance of suspicion from himself? But, then, why should he be so astonished at the success of his stratagem; and would he not naturally have contrived some means, in the course of the day, of ascertaining the fate of his victim? Of one thing she felt assured, that she was on the right scent, and that whether the cabaret was his home or not, that he would return to communicate the result of his inquiries to the old woman; therefore, thought she, 'I must not quit my ground.' But the difficulty was, on what pretence to stay. The rain had furnished a very good excuse for entering; but unless she proposed remaining there all night, it was now time to think of moving—the rest of the company were dropping off one by one, she would ere long be left alone with the hostess. Would she be allowed to stay, too? That was another question, or were there means for her accommodation? Whilst she was pondering on these difficulties the two last of the party rose to depart.
"'I think,' said one of them, walking to the window, 'the rain is over for the present, and we may take advantage of the opportunity.'
"Adieu, Messieurs,' said the old woman, 'au revoir!' and she spoke with an alacrity of tone that indicated she was not sorry to be relieved of their presence.
"Julie arose also, and taking up her hat, stood smoothing round the nap, which was ruffled by the rain, with the back of her hand. The men paused a moment, apparently thinking she meant to accompany them, but she seemed intent upon repairing the disarrangement of her hat, so saying once more, 'Adieu, Madame! Adieu, Monsieur' they took their leave.
"The old woman raised her eyes from her knitting, and looked at her over her spectacles, as much as to say, 'Eh bien! why don't you go too?' But Julie stood still by the fire, turning her hat about in her hand, with an air of perplexity and depression.
"'Vous ne retournez pas coucher chez Madame la Comtesse?' at length said the hostess.
"'Alas! no,' replied Julie.
"'But you have friends?'
"'I have some,' returned Julie,—'mais'—
"'A mother?' inquired the old woman.
"'Alas! no,' answered Julie, despondingly.
"'Comment?' is it that you are afraid of your friends' displeasure when they learn you have been turned away?'
"'C'est ça,' replied Julie.
"'Pauvre enfant!' said the old woman.
"'In short,' said Julie, 'to say the truth, I should be glad they did not learn it at all, till I have ascertained whether I have any chance of being reinstated; because, you know, if within a few days I should recover my situation, my friends need never know any thing about the matter.'
"'C'est vrai,' said the old woman.
"'If I knew any where to go—' continued Julie, hesitatingly.
"'Comment? pour loger?'
"'Yes,' replied Julie, 'for a few days.'
"'Vous avez de l'argent?"
"'Oh, yes,' returned Julie, 'enough to pay.'
"'Vous ne voulez pas loger ici?'
"'Mais, oui,' said Julie, 'si cela vous convient.'
"'Parfaitement,' returned the hostess. 'Will you have a room to yourself?' continued she, 'that will be dix sous; ou voulez vous coucher avec Rodolphe, mon fils, se ne sera que cinq sous, ça?'
"'I should prefer a room to myself,' returned Julie, with an involuntary shudder at the latter proposal—'I have been so long used to lie alone at the Countess's, that I fear a companion would disturb me.'
"'Comme vous voulez,' said the old woman, 'cela m'est égal, since our spare room is unoccupied. Hier au soir nous avions du monde, and I could not have accommodated you.'
"'Who was that ?' thought Julie, 'was it the person I seek, and where is he now?' She would have been glad to ask some questions about the lodger the old woman spoke of, but she did not know how to manage it.
"'They are mostly travellers, strangers, that you accommodate, I suppose?' she said.
"'Sometimes,' said the old woman, but oftener servants out of place, like yourself. Mais voulez vous souper?'
"Julie had little inclination to eat, especially any thing she was likely to get there; but her object was to make herself welcome, so she accepted the offer with all the alacrity she could assume.
"'He is your son, then, Monsieur Rodolphe?' said Julie to the hostess, who with more activity than she would have imagined her capable of, was preparing the repast.
"'Yes, he's my son,' replied the old woman, 'seul enfant, d'un mariage infortuné.'
"'Cependant, il a l'air très comme il fatu ce Mr. Rodolphe,' observed Julie.
"'Il n'est pas mal,' returned the hostess, as she quitted the room.to fetch some eggs.
"Julie felt a great desire to learn what might be the means or occupation that enabled Monsieur Rodolphe to live, and to maintain a style of dress that appeared so inconsistent with the situation of his mother; but she was afraid of giving offence by betraying her curiosity; or of awakening suspicion of her motives, if they really happened to have any thing to conceal. However, the old woman seemed disposed enough to give her the information she wanted.
"'Yes, he's well enough, Rodolphe,' said, she, as she broke her eggs into the stewpan—'he was always fond of dress, and ambitious to be a gentleman; and we never could make him take to any trade that soiled his fingers—worse luck! So he has got a little employment in the town—but it's not the way to make money. Better work while he is young and able, than wear fine clothes, and lead an easy life, trusting to other people to keep him when he is old. I have little faith in promises, for my part.'
"'Whatever God's word may be,' returned Julie, 'the word of man is not bread.'
"'C'est vrai,' replied the old woman nodding her head approvingly; and now,' she continued, as she placed an omelette, with some bread and cheese and a bottle of wine, on the table before her guest, 'I'll go and prepare your bed whilst you eat your supper,' and accordingly, after selecting a pair of sheets from a cupboard near the fire she disappeared, and Julie presently heard her foot bustling about above.
"When the young heroine was left alone, she began to review her situation; and it was not without some surprise at her own temerity that she reflected on the arrangement she had made to sleep under the obscure roof of this old woman, of whose character she knew nothing, and in the near neighbourhood of a man, whom she was by no means certain might not be the assassin she was in search of. Altogether, whether he were or not, her opinion of Monsieur Rodolphe was not very favourable; he had that non-descript sort of air that made it difficult to assign him to any class, and inspired the suspicion that he did not adhere very strictly to the duties of any.
"Of the old woman, however, she thought better. In spite of her haggish exterior, there was a certain degree of frankness and good faith in her manner; and many an honest parent, she reflected, has an idle and good-for-nothing son. It was true, no human being interested in her fate knew where she was; and she might have disappeared from the face of the earth, if her hosts had a mind to evil, without leaving a single trace of her destiny behind her, unless a clue were discovered by her chance association with the humble companions with whom she had passed the evening.
"'However," said she to herself, 'nothing venture nothing have! Is it not by the energy and courage I display in his cause, that I hope to win Valentine's heart? and, après tout, probably the worst I have to fear is bad accommodation and an extortionate bill,'
"She had just arrived at this comfortable decision when the door opened and a man in a cloak entered, looking so exactly like the one she was in search of, that she involuntarily started with surprise.
"'N'ayez pas peur," said he throwing off his cloak, "it's only me;" and she perceived that it was Rodolphe, who having made that addition to his dress after he had left the room, was thus changed in his appearance.
"'Pardon!' said she, endeavouring to assume as much tranquillity as she could, "I did not recognize you, at first."
"'It's the cloak,' said he carelessly. "Where's my mother?'
"'Up stairs, preparing a bed for me,' replied Julie.
"'You sleep here, then?' said he, in a tone that rather indicated annoyance than satisfaction.
"'Oui,' returned Julie, 'si cela ne vous gêne pas.'
"'Du tout,' replied he, 'cela m'est égal.'
"'He speaks as if he didn't think me worth killing,' thought Julie; 'there's some comfort in that,'
"'Will you take a draught of wine after your walk?" said she.
"'Merci,' replied he, 'presently,' and quitting the room, she heard him ascending the stairs, and immediately afterwards his voice reached her in earnest conversation with his mother.
"A great deal she would have given to overhear the dialogue, of which she felt quite certain she knew the subject; but although every intonation of their voices penetrated the rafters that formed the ceiling of the room she was in, not a single word could she make out. At length the door above opened, and she heard the old woman say, 'It's very alarming, at any rate; and if Monsieur Rodolphe does not send—'
"'Chut!' said her son, 'we can talk it over by and by."
"They then descended the stairs, and resumed their places by the fire with Julie; who again invited them to take a share of her bottle of wine. She felt a great desire to ask Rodolphe if he had heard any thing about the murder, and was besides particularly anxious to learn whether Mr. Brunean was dead, or likely to recover; but her dread of exciting suspicion or resentment, by introducing a subject in which she was assured they were somehow or other more than commonly interested, made her voice falter and her heart beat so much whenever she approached it, that she was constrained to renounce her intention; so she sat slowly sipping her wine, and picking the crumbs of bread off the table cloth, conscious that her hosts desired her absence, but feeling every instant an increasing dislike, bordering upon horror, to the idea of retiring to bed under a roof, and amongst strangers, over whom there hung a mystery she could not penetrate. But the conversation flagged—the old woman nodded in her chair, and Rodolphe yawned audibly. 'Ah, mon Dieu!' exclaimed the former, starting out of a doze into which she had fallen, 'what o'clock is it?'
"'It is very late,' replied Rodolphe. 'Would it be agreeable to Monsieur to retire?'
"'Certainly,' returned Julie, 'I had really forgotten myself.'
"Upon this, the old woman arose, and lighting a bit of rushlight, said she would have the pleasure of showing Monsieur to his apartment. She accordingly proceeded up the narrow creaking stairs, followed by her unwilling lodger, whose courage might truly be said to be 'oozing out at her fingers' ends.' On the landing place at the top were three doors, the centre one of which she opened, and introduced Julie to a better apartment than might have been expected. The furniture was humble and coarse, but clean and decent, and, but for the fear that beset her, there was no reason why she might not be reconciled enough to the prospect of passing the night there.
"'You'll sleep well there, mon enfant,' said the hostess. 'It's a good bed—every body sleeps well in it.'
"Julie looked sharply at her, for terror made her suspicious, and she thought the words sounded oddly.
"'Eh bien!' said the old woman, who seemed to be struck by her countenance—'vous n'avez pas peur?'
"'Afraid! Oh no!'. replied Julie, 'what should I be afraid of?'
"'If you are afraid of sleeping alone, you can sleep with my son,' continued the hostess.
"'By no means,' replied Julie. 'I am quite satisfied. Do you sleep near me?'
"'I have a little closet close to you—here on the right,' said she, pointing to one of the doors, 'and Rodolphe my son, sleeps on the other side of you. Oh, you'll be quite safe—fear nothing.'
"'I shall sleep like a dormouse,' returned Julie, wishing to appear at ease.
"'To be sure you will,' replied the hostess, with a chuckling laugh, that seemed to Julie's excited nerves to carry some strange and sinister meaning with it; and wishing her good night, she descended the stairs. As soon as she was gone, Julie's first impulse was to look under the bed, and examine the walls of the room, lest there should be any closet or secret door, but there was nothing to alarm her; and the only thing she discovered, which she had not observed on her first entrance, was a small portmanteau which stood on the floor in one corner.
"As nothing was unimportant to her in her present situation, and she could not tell what slight tokens might put her on the right track, and forward the object for which she was encountering so much annoyance, she took her rushlight to examine it. It proved to be a small black leathern portmanteau, just sufficient to carry a change of linen, and the few articles for the toilet a gentleman might require in an expedition of a few days; it was locked, and on the top were the initials R. B. 'R. B.' thought she—'that may be Rodolphe something—for she did not know the second name of the persons under whose roof she was—'it is most likely his, as he is so fine a gentleman. Eh bien, I suppose I must go to bed—I wish they would have let me sit below all night—I did not feel half so wretched there in the chimney corner, with the bright faggots blazing; but there's something terrific in a bed when one's frightened; it looks like a grave. However, I won't undress; I'll just lie down in my clothes, so that if there's any alarm, I could be ready to show myself in a moment.'
"There was a rude wooden bolt to the door which she drew, though without much reliance on its efficiency—it was enough for honest people, but it would have made a feeble defence against force. Just as she was about to lie down another thought struck her—'I shall presently be in the dark, and as I am sure I shall not sleep, that will add greatly to my terrors.' It was but a few inches of rushlight the old woman had given her, and that was fast burning down to the socket. So she drew back the bolt again and opened the door, resolved to go down and beg for more light, from those whom she still heard talking below. As she had taken off her shoes preparatory to stretching herself on the bed, her step was noiseless, and seemed to cause no interruption in the conversation between mother and son; and she was just placing her foot on the first stair, when the words Monsieur Rodolphe again caught her ear, but this time it was in the voice of her son.
"'Encore Monsieur Rodolphe,' thought she —'then this is not Monsieur Rodolphe, or there are two,'-and she crept down a few stairs more, as softly as she could.
"'I admit I can't comprehend it,' she heard the old woman say; 'the thing's incomprehensible, but I'm not the less convinced that my apprehensions are well founded. He falls upon us here as if he came down the chimney; nobody knows how or why, with a cock-and-bull story, that means nothing—it's true I had my own notions—I thought it was somebody—some intrigue or another,—and then he's off again like the cork from a bottle of champagne.'
"'But what should he have to do with this young Englishman?' returned the son. 'I'm satisfied he knew no such man,'
"'How can you tell that?' rejoined the mother?—you think you're in all his secrets—mais, je me'n doute bien.'
"'We shall see,' replied Rodolphe, for doubtless the youth, being taken, will confess every thing when brought to trial. He won't die with closed lips.'
"'Not he,' returned the old woman, 'why should he? He'll lose his recompense and his life—he'll have a good right to cry out.'
"'It appears to me,' said the son, 'that be the truth what it may, it is of the last importance that we should inform Monsieur Rodolphe of the capture of the young Englishman.'
"'By no means,' replied the old woman, emphatically, are you going to involve yourself in the business? Haven't you got the eyes of the police upon you already? Besides, where is he? Most likely not at home; and into whose hands might the letter fall? No, no; au contraire, know nothing, ask nothing, tell nothing. No one knows he was here but himself and us. None else need ever know it. The youth must die—he has but his deserts. Monsieur Rodolphe, sans doute, will take care of himself, and keep out of the way if not, ma foi! I have had trouble enough about him, and through his means; and shall still, I dare say. Apropos! I wish he had taken his portmanteau away with him!'
"At this moment Julie's rushlight which, as her room door was open, afforded her some light, flickered and went out; and the darkness she was in was only relieved by the faint glimmer that shone through the half-open door below. Without loss of time, therefore, she crept back, and after making a noise with the bolt sufficient to attract the attention of the speakers, she called out from the top of the stairs that her light was out, and begged for another.
"'Comment!' cried the old woman, who ascended to her with a candle—'Comment! You are not undressed yet?'
"'No,' replied Julie, 'I sat down to think of my troubles, and to consider what I should do to get back to my situation again.—I believe I had fallen half asleep, when I was aroused by the light going out. But now I shall go to bed directly.'
"'Go to bed, to be sure,' returned the old woman. 'Sleep, child, by night, and think of your troubles by day.'
"And Julie did go to bed, and to sleep too. She had heard enough to satisfy her of her own safety, and to convince her that she was on the right track, and had a very fair prospect of saving the life and the honour of the man she loved,—'and surely,' thought she, as she closed her eyes—'he will love me, when he hears all I have done for him—he'll forget Aurore—that is, he'll write to her and say, 'Mademoiselle, or Madame, (selon), I regret extremely that circumstances of a very particular nature—particular nature—will preclude—my having the happiness—to—to unite myself—to you—in—in—' and here her drowsiness overcame her, and she fell fast asleep."
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
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