PICHON & SONS, OF THE CROIX ROUSSE.
Giraudier, _pharmacien, premiere classe_, is the legend, recorded inhuge, ill-proportioned letters, which directs the attention of thestranger to the most prosperous-looking shop in the grand _place_ of LaCroix Rousse, a well-known suburb of the beautiful city of Lyons, whichhas its share of the shabby gentility and poor pretence common to thesuburban commerce of great towns.
Giraudier is not only _pharmacien_ but _proprietaire_, though not byinheritance; his possession of one of the prettiest and most prolific ofthe small vineyards in the beautiful suburb, and a charming inconvenienthouse, with low ceilings, liliputian bedrooms, and a profusion of_persiennes_, _jalousies_, and _contrevents_, comes by purchase. Thisenviable little _terre_ was sold by the Nation, when that terribleabstraction transacted the public business of France; and it was boughtvery cheaply by the strong-minded father of the Giraudier of thepresent, who was not disturbed by the evil reputation which the placehad gained, at a time the peasants of France, having been bullied into arenunciation of religion, eagerly cherished superstition. The Giraudierof the present cherishes the particular superstition in questionaffectionately; it reminds him of an uncommonly good bargain made in hisfavor, which is always a pleasant association of ideas, especially to aFrenchman, still more especially to a Lyonnais; and it attractsstrangers to his _pharmacie_, and leads to transactions in _GrandChartreuse_ and _Creme de Roses_, ensuing naturally on the narration ofthe history of Pichon & Sons. Giraudier is not of aristocraticprinciples and sympathies; on the contrary, he has decided republicanleanings, and considers _Le Progres_ a masterpiece of journalisticliterature; but, as he says simply and strongly, "it is not because aman is a marquis that one is not to keep faith with him; a bad action isnot good because it harms a good-for-nothing of a noble; the more whenthat good-for-nothing is no longer a noble, but _pour rire_." At theeasy price of acquiescence in these sentiments, the stranger hears oneof the most authentic, best-remembered, most popular of the manytraditions of the bad old times "before General Bonaparte," asGiraudier, who has no sympathy with any later designation of _le grandhomme_, calls the Emperor, whose statue one can perceive--a speck in thedistance--from the threshold of the _pharmacie_.
The Marquis de Senanges, in the days of the triumph of the greatRevolution, was fortunate enough to be out of France, and wise enough toremain away from that country, though he persisted, long after the old_regime_ was as dead as the Ptolemies, in believing it merely suspended,and the Revolution a lamentable accident of vulgar complexion, buthappily temporary duration. The Marquis de Senanges, who affected the_style regence_, and was the politest of infidels and the most refinedof voluptuaries, got on indifferently in inappreciative foreign parts;but the members of his family--his brother and sisters, two of whom wereguillotined, while the third escaped to Savoy and found refuge there ina convent of her order--got on exceedingly ill in France. If the_ci-devant_ Marquis had had plenty of money to expend in such feebleimitations of his accustomed pleasures as were to be had out of Paris,he would not have been much affected by the fate of his relatives. Butmoney became exceedingly scarce; the Marquis had actually beheld many ofhis peers reduced to the necessity of earning the despicable butindispensable article after many ludicrous fashions. And the duration ofthis absurd upsetting of law, order, privilege, and property began toassume unexpected and very unpleasant proportions.
The Chateau de Senanges, with its surrounding lands, was confiscated tothe Nation, during the third year of the "emigration" of the Marquis deSenanges; and the greater part of the estate was purchased by a thrifty,industrious, and rich _avocat_, named Prosper Alix, a widower with anonly daughter. Prosper Alix enjoyed the esteem of the entireneighborhood. First, he was rich; secondly, he was of a taciturndisposition, and of a neutral tint in politics. He had done well underthe old _regime_ and, he was doing well under the new--thank God, or theSupreme Being, or the First Cause, or the goddess Reason herself, forall;--he would have invoked Dagon, Moloch, or Kali, quite as readily asthe Saints and the Madonna, who has gone so utterly out of fashion oflate. Nobody was afraid to speak out before Prosper Alix; he was not aspy; and though a cold-hearted man, except in the instance of his onlydaughter, he never harmed anybody.
Very likely it was because he was the last person in the vicinity whomanybody would have suspected of being applied to by the dispossessedfamily, that the son of the Marquis' brother, a young man of promise, ofcourage, of intellect, and of morals of decidedly a higher calibre thanthose actually and traditionally imputed to the family, sought the aidof the new possessor of the Chateau de Senanges, which had changed itsold title for that of the Maison Alix. The father of M. Paul de Senangeshad perished in the September massacres; his mother had been guillotinedat Lyons; and he--who had been saved by the interposition of a youngcomrade, whose father had, in the wonderful rotations of the wheel ofFate, acquired authority in the place where he had once esteemed thenotice of the nephew of the Marquis a crowning honor for his son--hadpassed through the common vicissitudes of that dreadful time, whichwould take a volume for their recital in each individual instance.
Paul de Senanges was a handsome young fellow, frank, high-spirited, andof a brisk and happy temperament; which, however, modified by the manymisfortunes he had undergone, was not permanently changed. He had plentyof capacity for enjoyment in him still; and as his position was veryisolated, and his mind had become enlightened on social and politicalmatters to an extent in which the men of his family would havediscovered utter degradation and the women diabolical possession, hewould not have been very unhappy if, under the new condition of things,he could have lived in his native country and gained an honestlivelihood. But he could not do that, he was too thoroughly "suspect;"the antecedents of his family were too powerful against him: his onlychance would have been to have gone into the popular camp as an extreme,violent partisan, to have out-Heroded the revolutionary Herods; and thatPaul de Senanges was too honest to do. So he was reduced to beingthankful that he had escaped with his life, and to watching for anopportunity of leaving France and gaining some country where the reignof liberty, fraternity, and equality was not quite so oppressive.
The long-looked-for opportunity at length offered itself, and Paul deSenanges was instructed by his uncle the Marquis that he must contriveto reach Marseilles, whence he should be transported to Spain--in whichcountry the illustrious emigrant was then residing--by a certain nameddate. His uncle's communication arrived safely, and the plan proposedseemed a secure and eligible one. Only in two respects was it calculatedto make Paul de Senanges thoughtful. The first was, that his uncleshould take any interest in the matter of his safety; the second, whatcould be the nature of a certain deposit which the Marquis's letterdirected him to procure, if possible, from the Chateau de Senanges. Thefact of this injunction explained, in some measure, the first of the twodifficulties. It was plain that whatever were the contents of thispacket which he was to seek for, according to the indications marked ona ground-plan drawn by his uncle and enclosed in the letter, the Marquiswanted them, and could not procure them except by the agency of hisnephew. That the Marquis should venture to direct Paul de Senanges toput himself in communication with Prosper Alix, would have beensurprising to any one acquainted only with the external and generallyunderstood features of the character of the new proprietor of theChateau de Senanges. But a few people knew Prosper Alix thoroughly, andthe Marquis was one of the number; he was keen enough to know in theorythat, in the case of a man with only one weakness, that is likely to bea very weak weakness indeed, and to apply the theory to the _avocat_.The beautiful, pious, and aristocratic mother of Paul de Senanges--alady to whose superiority the Marquis had rendered the distinguishedtestimony of his dislike, not hesitating to avow that she was "much toogood for _his_ taste"--had been very fond of, and very kind to, themotherless daughter of Prosper Alix, and he held her memory in reverencewhich he accorded to nothing beside, human or divine, and taught hisdaughter the matchless worth of th
e friend she had lost. The Marquisknew this, and though he had little sympathy with the sentiment, hebelieved he might use it in the present instance to his own profit, withsafety. The event proved that he was right. Private negotiations, withthe manner of whose transaction we are not concerned, passed between the_avocat_ and the _ci-devant_ Marquis; and the young man, then leading alife in which skulking had a large share, in the vicinity of Dijon, wasinstructed to present himself at the Maison Alix, under the designationof Henri Glaire, and in the character of an artist in house-decoration.The circumstances of his life in childhood and boyhood had led to hisbeing almost safe from recognition as a man at Lyons; and, indeed, allthe people on the _ci-devant_ visiting-list of the chateau had beenpretty nearly killed off, in the noble and patriotic ardor of therevolutionary times.
The ancient Chateau de Senanges was proudly placed near the summit ofthe "Holy Hill," and had suffered terrible depredations when the churchat Fourvieres was sacked, and the shrine desecrated with that ingeniousimpiety which is characteristic of the French; but it still retainedsomewhat of its former heavy grandeur. The chateau was much too largefor the needs, tastes, or ambition of its present owner, who was toowise, if even he had been of an ostentatious disposition, not to havesedulously resisted its promptings. The jealousy of the nation ofbrothers was easily excited, and departure from simplicity and frugalitywas apt to be commented upon by domiciliary visits, and the eagerimposition of fanciful fines. That portion of the vast building occupiedby Prosper Alix and the _citoyenne_ Berthe, his daughter, presented anappearance of well-to-do comfort and modest ease, which contrasted withthe grandiose proportions and the elaborate decorations of the widecorridors, huge flat staircases, and lofty panelled apartments. The_avocat_ and his daughter lived quietly in the old place, hoping, aftera general fashion, for better times, but not finding the present verybad; the father becoming day by day more pleasant with his bargain, thedaughter growing fonder of the great house, and the noble _bocages_, ofthe scrappy little vineyards, struggling for existence on the sunnyhill-side, and the place where the famous shrine had been. They haddone it much damage; they had parted its riches among them; the onceever-open doors were shut, and the worn flags were untrodden; butnothing could degrade it, nothing could destroy what had been, in themind of Berthe Alix, who was as devout as her father was unconcernedlyunbelieving. Berthe was wonderfully well educated for a Frenchwoman ofthat period, and surprisingly handsome for a Frenchwoman of any. Not tootall to offend the taste of her compatriots, and not too short to bedignified and graceful, she had a symmetrical figure, and a small,well-poised head, whose profuse, shining, silken dark-brown hair shewore as nature intended, in a shower of curls, never touched by the handof the coiffeur,--curls which clustered over her brow, and fell far downon her shapely neck. Her features were fine; the eyes very dark, and themouth very red; the complexion clear and rather pale, and the style ofthe face and its expression lofty. When Berthe Alix was a child, peoplewere accustomed to say she was pretty and refined enough to belong tothe aristocracy; nobody would have dared to say so now, prettiness andrefinement, together with all the other virtues admitted to a place onthe patriotic roll, having become national property.
Berthe loved her father dearly. She was deeply impressed with the senseof her supreme importance to him, and fully comprehended that he wouldbe influenced by and through her when all other persuasion or argumentwould be unavailing. When Prosper Alix wished and intended to doanything rather mean or selfish, he did it without letting Berthe know;and when he wished to leave undone something which he knew his daughterwould decide ought to be done, he carefully concealed from her theexistence of the dilemma. Nevertheless, this system did not prevent thefather and daughter being very good and even confidential friends.Prosper Alix loved his daughter immeasurably, and respected her morethan he respected any one in the world. With regard to her perseveringreligiousness, when such things were not only out of fashion and date,but illegal as well, he was very tolerant. Of course it was weak, and anabsurdity; but every woman, even his beautiful, incomparable Berthe, wasweak and absurd on some point or other; and, after all, he had come tothe conclusion that the safest weakness with which a woman can beafflicted is that romantic and ridiculous _faiblesse_ called piety. Sothese two lived a happy life together, Berthe's share of it being verysecluded, and were wonderfully little troubled by the turbulence withwhich society was making its tumultuous way to the virtuous serenity ofrepublican perfection.
The communication announcing the project of the _ci-devant_ Marquis forthe secure exportation of his nephew, and containing the skilful appealbefore mentioned, grievously disturbed the tranquillity of Prosper, andwas precisely one of those incidents which he would especially haveliked to conceal from his daughter. But he could not do so; the appealwas too cleverly made; and utter indifference to it, utter neglect ofthe letter, which naturally suggested itself as the easiest means ofgetting rid of a difficulty, would have involved an act of direct anduncompromising dishonesty to which Prosper, though of sufficientlyelastic conscience within the limit of professional gains, could notcontemplate. The Chateau de Senanges was indeed his own lawful property;his without prejudice to the former owners, dispossessed by no act ofhis. But the _ci-devant_ Marquis--confiding in him to an extent whichwas quite astonishing, except on the _pis-aller_ theory, which is sounflattering as to be seldom accepted--announced to him the existence ofa certain packet, hidden in the chateau, acknowledging its value, andurging the need of its safe transmission. This was not his property. Heheartily wished he had never learned its existence, but wishing that wasclearly of no use; then he wished the nephew of the _ci-devant_ mightcome soon, and take himself and the hidden wealth away with all possiblespeed. This latter was a more realizable desire, and Prosper settled hismind with it, communicated the interesting but decidedly dangeroussecret to Berthe, received her warm sanction, and transmitted to theMarquis, by the appointed means, an assurance that his wishes should bepunctually carried out. The absence of an interdiction of his visitbefore a certain date was to be the signal to M. Paul de Senanges thathe was to proceed to act upon his uncle's instructions; he waited theproper time, the reassuring silence was maintained unbroken, and heultimately set forth on his journey, and accomplished it in safety.
Preparations had been made at the Maison Alix for the reception of M.Glaire, and his supposed occupation had been announced. The apartmentswere decorated in a heavy, gloomy style, and those of the _citoyenne_ inparticular (they had been occupied by a lady who had once beendesignated as _feue Madame la Marquise_, but who was referred to now as_la mere du ci-devant_) were much in need of renovation. The alcove, forinstance, was all that was least gay and most far from simple. The_citoyenne_ would have all that changed. On the morning of the day ofthe expected arrival, Berthe said to her father:
"It would seem as if the Marquis did not know the exact spot in whichthe packet is deposited. M. Paul's assumed character implies thenecessity for a search."
M. Henri Glaire arrived at the Maison Alix, was fraternally received,and made acquainted with the sphere of his operations. The young man hada good deal of both ability and taste in the line he had assumed, andthe part was not difficult to play. Some days were judiciously allowedto pass before the real object of the masquerade was pursued, and duringthat time cordial relations established themselves between the _avocat_and his guest. The young man was handsome, elegant, engaging, with allthe external advantages, and devoid of the vices, errors, and hopelessinfatuated unscrupulousness, of his class; he had naturally quickintelligence, and some real knowledge and comprehension of life had beenknocked into him by the hard-hitting blows of Fate. His face was likehis mother's, Prosper Alix thought, and his mind and tastes were of thevery pattern which, in theory, Berthe approved. Berthe, a veryunconventional French girl--who thought the new era of purity, love,virtue, and disinterestedness ought to do away with marriage by barteras one of its most notable reforms, and had been disenchanted bydiscovering that the abolit
ion of marriage altogether suited the tasteof the incorruptible Republic better--might like, might even love, thisyoung man. She saw so few men, and had no fancy for patriots; she wouldcertainly be obstinate about it if she did chance to love him. Thiswould be a nice state of affairs. This would be a pleasant consequenceof the confiding request of the _ci-devant_. Prosper wished with all hisheart for the arrival of the concerted signal, which should tell HenriGlaire that he might fulfil the purpose of his sojourn at the MaisonAlix, and set forth for Marseilles.
But the signal did not come, and the days--long, beautiful, sunny,soothing summer-days--went on. The painting of the panels of the_citoyenne's_ apartment, which she vacated for that purpose, progressedslowly; and M. Paul de Senanges, guided by the ground-plan, and aided byBerthe, had discovered the spot in which the jewels of price, almost thelast remnants of the princely wealth of the Senanges, had been hidden bythe _femme-de-chambre_ who had perished with her mistress, havingconfided a general statement of the fact to a priest, for transmissionto the Marquis. This spot had been ingeniously chosen. Thesleeping-apartment of the late Marquis was extensive, lofty, andprovided with an alcove of sufficiently large dimensions to have formedin itself a handsome room. This space, containing a splendid but gloomybed, on an estrade, and hung with rich faded brocade, was divided fromthe general extent of the apartment by a low railing of black oak,elaborately carved, opening in the centre, and with a flat wide baralong the top, covered with crimson velvet. The curtains were contrivedto hang from the ceiling, and, when let down inside the screen ofrailing, they matched the draperies which closed before the great stonebalcony at the opposite end of the room. Since the _avocat's_ daughterhad occupied this palatial chamber, the curtains of the alcove had neverbeen drawn, and she had substituted for them a high folding screen ofblack-and-gold Japanese pattern, also a relic of the grand old times,which stood about six feet on the outside of the rails that shut in herbed. The floor was of shining oak, testifying to the conscientious andsuccessful labors of successive generations of _frotteurs_; and on thespot where the railing of the alcove opened by a pretty quaint devicesundering the intertwined arms of a pair of very chubby cherubs, asquare space in the floor was also richly carved.
The seekers soon reached the end of their search. A little effortremoved the square of carved oak, and underneath they found a casket,evidently of old workmanship, richly wrought in silver, much tarnishedbut quite intact. It was agreed that this precious deposit should bereplaced, and the carved square laid down over it, until the signal forhis departure should reach Paul. The little baggage which under anycircumstances he could have ventured to allow himself in the dangerousjourney he was to undertake, must be reduced, so as to admit of hiscarrying the casket without exciting suspicion.
The finding of the hidden treasure was not the first joint discoverymade by the daughter of the _avocat_ and the son of the _ci-devant_. Thecogitations of Prosper Alix were very wise, very reasonable; but theywere a little tardy. Before he had admitted the possibility of mischief,the mischief was done. Each had found out that the love of the other wasindispensable to the happiness of life; and they had exchangedconfidences, assurances, protestations, and promises, as freely, asfervently, and as hopefully, as if no such thing as a Republic, one andindivisible, with a keen scent and an unappeasable thirst for the bloodof aristocrats, existed. They forgot all about "Liberty, Fraternity, andEquality"--these egotistical, narrow-minded young people;--they alsoforgot the characteristic alternative to those unparalleledblessings--"Death." But Prosper Alix did not forget any of these things;and his consternation, his provision of suffering for his beloveddaughter, were terrible, when she told him, with a simple noblefrankness which the _grandes dames_ of the dead-and-gone time of greatladies had rarely had a chance of exhibiting, that she loved M. Paul deSenanges, and intended to marry him when the better times should come.Perhaps she meant when that alternative of _death_ should be struck offthe sacred formula;--of course she meant to marry him with the sanctionof her father, which she made no doubt she should receive.
Prosper Alix was in pitiable perplexity. He could not bear to terrifyhis daughter by a full explanation of the danger she was incurring; hecould not bear to delude her with false hope. If this young man could begot away at once safely, there was not much likelihood that he wouldever be able to return to France. Would Berthe pine for him, or wouldshe forget him, and make a rational, sensible, rich, republicanmarriage, which would not imperil either her reputation for purepatriotism or her father's? The latter would be the very best thing thatcould possibly happen, and therefore it was decidedly unwise tocalculate upon it; but, after all, it was possible; and Prosper had notthe courage, in such a strait, to resist the hopeful promptings of apossibility. How ardently he regretted that he had complied with theprayer of the _ci-devant_! When would the signal for Mr. Paul'sdeparture come?
Prosper Alix had made many sacrifices, had exercised much self-controlfor his daughter's sake; but he had never sustained a more severe trialthan this, never suffered more than he did now, under the strongnecessity for hiding from her his absolute conviction of theimpossibility of a happy result for this attachment, in that future towhich the lovers looked so fearlessly. He could not even make hisanxiety and apprehension known to Paul de Senanges; for he did notbelieve the young man had sufficient strength of will to concealanything so important from the keen and determined observation ofBerthe.
The expected signal was not given, and the lovers were incautious. Theseclusion of the Maison Alix had all the danger, as well as all thedelight, of solitude, and Paul dropped his disguise too much and toooften. The servants, few in number, were of the truest patrioticprinciples, and to some of them the denunciation of the _citoyen_, whomthey condescended to serve because the sacred Revolution had not yetmade them as rich as he, would have been a delightful duty, asweet-smelling sacrifice to be laid on the altar of the country. Theyheard certain names and places mentioned; they perceived many thingswhich led them to believe that Henri Glaire was not an industrial artistand pure patriot, worthy of respect, but a wretched _ci-devant_,resorting to the dignity of labor to make up for the righteousdestruction of every other kind of dignity. One day a gardener, of lessstoical virtue than his fellows, gave Prosper Alix a warning that thepresence of a _ci-devant_ upon his premises was suspected, and that hemight be certain a domiciliary visit, attended with dangerous results tohimself, would soon take place. Of course the _avocat_ did not commithimself by any avowal to this lukewarm patriot; but he casuallymentioned that Henri Glaire was about to take his leave. What was to bedone? He must not leave the neighborhood without receiving theinstructions he was awaiting; but he must leave the house, and besupposed to have gone quite away. Without any delay or hesitation,Prosper explained the facts to Berthe and her lover, and insisted on thenecessity for an instant parting. Then the courage and the readiness ofthe girl told. There was no crying, and very little trembling; she wasstrong and helpful.
"He must go to Pichon's, father," she said, "and remain there until thesignal is given.--Pichon is a master-mason, Paul," she continued,turning to her lover, "and his wife was my nurse. They are avariciouspeople; but they are fond of me in their way, and they will shelter youfaithfully enough, when they know that my father will pay themhandsomely. You must go at once, unseen by the servants; they are atsupper. Fetch your valise, and bring it to my room. We will put thecasket in it, and such of your things as you must take out to make roomfor it, we can hide under the plank. My father will go with you toPichon's, and we will communicate with you there as soon as it is safe."
Paul followed her to the large gloomy room where the treasure lay, andthey took the casket from its hiding-place. It was heavy, though notlarge, and an awkward thing to pack away among linen in a small valise.They managed it, however, and, the brief preparation completed, themoment of parting arrived. Firmly and eloquently, though in haste,Berthe assured Paul of her changeless love and faith, and promised himto wait for him for any length of time
in France, if better days shouldbe slow of coming, or to join him in some foreign land, if they werenever to come. Her father was present, full of compassion and misgiving.At length he said:
"Come, Paul, you must leave her; every moment is of importance."
The young man and his betrothed were standing on the spot whence theyhad taken the casket; the carved rail with the heavy curtains might havebeen the outer sanctuary of an altar, and they bride and bridegroombefore it, with earnest, loving faces, and clasped hands.
"Farewell, Paul," said Berthe; "promise me once more, in this the momentof our parting, that you will come to me again, if you are alive, whenthe danger is past."
"Whether I am living or dead, Berthe," said Paul de Senanges, stronglymoved by some sudden inexplicable instinct, "I will come to you again."
In a few more minutes, Prosper Alix and his guest, who carried, notwithout difficulty, the small but heavy leather valise, had disappearedin the distance, and Berthe was on her knees before the _prie-dieu_ ofthe _ci-devant_ Marquise, her face turned toward the "Holy Hill" ofFourvieres.
Pichon, _maitre_, and his sons, _garcons-macons_, were well-to-dopeople, rather morose, exceedingly avaricious, and of taciturndispositions; but they were not ill spoken of by their neighbors. Theyhad amassed a good deal of money in their time, and were just thenengaged on a very lucrative job. This was the construction of several ofthe steep descents, by means of stairs, straight and winding, cut in theface of the _coteaux_, by which pedestrians are enabled to descend intothe town. Pichon _pere_ was a _proprietaire_ as well; his property wasthat which is now in the possession of Giraudier, _pharmacien, premiereclasse_, and which was destined to attain a sinister celebrity duringhis proprietorship. One of the straightest and steepest of the stairwayshad been cut close to the _terre_ which the mason owned, and a massivewall, destined to bound the high-road at the foot of the declivity, wasin course of construction.
When Prosper Alix and Paul de Senanges reached the abode of Pichon, themaster-mason, with his sons and workmen, had just completed their day'swork, and were preparing to eat the supper served by the wife andmother, a tall, gaunt woman, who looked as if a more liberal scale ofhousekeeping would have done her good, but on whose features the stampof that devouring and degrading avarice which is the commonest vice ofthe French peasantry, was set as plainly as on the hard faces of herhusband and her sons. The _avocat_ explained his business and introducedhis companion briefly, and awaited the reply of Pichon _pere_ withoutany appearance of inquietude.
"You don't run any risk," he said; "at least, you don't run any riskwhich I cannot make it worth your while to incur. It is not the firsttime you have received a temporary guest on my recommendation. You knownothing about the citizen Glaire, except that he is recommended to youby me. I am responsible; you can, on occasion, make me so. The citizenmay remain with you a short time; can hardly remain long. Say, citizen,is it agreed? I have no time to spare."
It was agreed, and Prosper Alix departed, leaving M. Paul de Senanges,convinced that the right, indeed the only, thing had been done, and yetmuch troubled and depressed.
Pichon _pere_ was a short, squat, powerfully built man, verging onsixty, whose thick, dark grizzled hair, sturdy limbs, and hard hands, onwhich the muscles showed like cords, spoke of endurance and strength; hewas, indeed, noted in the neighborhood for those qualities. His sonsresembled him slightly, and each other closely, as was natural, for theywere twins. They were heavy, lumpish fellows, and they made but anungracious return to the attempted civilities of the stranger, to whomthe offer of their mother to show him his room was a decided relief. Ashe rose to follow the woman, Paul de Senanges lifted his small valisewith difficulty from the floor, on which he had placed it on enteringthe house, and carried it out of the room in both his arms. Thebrothers followed these movements with curiosity, and, when the doorclosed behind their mother and the stranger, their eyes met.
* * * * *
Twenty-four hours had passed away, and nothing new had occurred at theMaison Alix. The servants had not expressed any curiosity respecting thedeparture of the citizen Glaire, no domiciliary visit had taken place,and Berthe and her father were discussing the propriety of Prosper'sventuring, on the pretext of an excursion in another direction, a visitto the isolated and quiet dwelling of the master-mason. No signal hadyet arrived. It was agreed that after the lapse of another day, if theirtranquillity remained undisturbed, Prosper Alix should visit Paul deSenanges. Berthe, who was silent and preoccupied, retired to her ownroom early, and her father, who was uneasy and apprehensive, desperatelyanxious for the promised communication from the Marquis, was relieved byher absence.
The moon was high in the dark sky, and her beams were flung across thepolished oak floor of Berthe's bedroom, through the great window withthe stone balcony, when the girl, who had gone to sleep with her lover'sname upon her lips in prayer, awoke with a sudden start, and sat up inher bed. An unbearable dread was upon her; and yet she was unable toutter a cry, she was unable to make another movement. Had she heard avoice? No, no one had spoken, nor did she fancy that she heard anysound. But within her, somewhere inside her heaving bosom, somethingsaid, "Berthe!"
And she listened, and knew what it was. And it spoke, and said:
"I promised you that, living or dead, I would come to you again. And Ihave come to you; but not living."
She was quite awake. Even in the agony of her fear she looked around,and tried to move her hands, to feel her dress and the bedclothes, andto fix her eyes on some familiar object, that she might satisfy herself,before this racing and beating, this whirling and yet icy chilliness ofher blood should kill her outright, that she was really awake.
"I have come to you; but not living."
What an awful thing that voice speaking within her was! She tried toraise her head and to look toward the place where the moonbeams markedbright lines upon the polished floor, which lost themselves at the footof the Japanese screen. She forced herself to this effort, and liftedher eyes, wild and haggard with fear, and there, the moonbeams at hisfeet, the tall black screen behind him, she saw Paul de Senanges. Shesaw him; she looked at him quite steadily; she rose, slowly, with amechanical movement, and stood upright beside her bed, clasping herforehead with her hands, and gazing at him. He stood motionless, in thedress he had worn when he took leave of her, the light-coloredriding-coat of the period, with a short cape, and a large white cravattucked into the double breast. The white muslin was flecked, and thefront of the riding-coat was deeply stained, with blood. He looked ather, and she took a step forward--another--then, with a desperateeffort, she dashed open the railing and flung herself on her kneesbefore him, with her arms stretched out as if to clasp him. But he wasno longer there; the moonbeams fell clear and cold upon the polishedfloor, and lost themselves where Berthe lay, at the foot of the screen,her head upon the ground, and every sign of life gone from her.
* * * * *
"Where is the citizen Glaire?" asked Prosper Alix of the _citoyenne_Pichon, entering the house of the master-mason abruptly, and with astern and threatening countenance. "I have a message for him; I must seehim."
"I know nothing about him," replied the _citoyenne_, without turning inhis direction, or relaxing her culinary labors. "He went away from herethe next morning, and I did not trouble myself to ask where; that is hisaffair."
"He went away? Without letting me know! Be careful, _citoyenne_; this isa serious matter."
"So they tell me," said the woman with a grin, which was not altogetherfree from pain and fear; "for you! A serious thing to have a _suspect_in your house, and palm him off on honest people. However, he went awaypeaceably enough when he knew we had found him out, and that we had nodesire to go to prison, or worse, on his account, or yours."
She was strangely insolent, this woman, and the listener felt hishelplessness; he had brought the young man there with such secrecy, hehad so carefully provided for the success of
concealment.
"Who carried his valise?" Prosper Alix asked her suddenly.
"How should I know?" she replied; but her hands lost their steadiness,and she upset a stew-pan; "he carried it here, didn't he? and I supposehe carried it away again."
Prosper Alix looked at her steadily--she shunned his gaze, but sheshowed no other sign of confusion; then horror and disgust of the womancame over him.
"I must see Pichon," he said; "where is he?"
"Where should he be but at the wall? he and the boys are working there,as always. The citizen can see them; but he will remember not to detainthem; in a little quarter of an hour the soup will be ready."
The citizen did see the master-mason and his sons, and after aninterview of some duration he left the place in a state of violentagitation and complete discomfiture. The master-mason had addressed tohim these words at parting:
"I assert that the man went away at his own free will; but if you do notkeep very quiet, I shall deny that he came here at all--you cannot provehe did--and I will denounce you for harboring a _suspect_ and_ci-devant_ under a false name. I know a De Senanges when I see him aswell as you, citizen Alix; and, wishing M. Paul a good journey, I hopeyou will consider about this matter, for truly, my friend, I think youwill sneeze in the sack before I shall."
* * * * *
"We must bear it, Berthe, my child," said Prosper Alix to his daughtermany weeks later, when the fever had left her, and she was able to talkwith her father of the mysterious and frightful events which hadoccurred. "We are utterly helpless. There is no proof, only the word ofthese wretches against mine, and certain destruction to me if I speak.We will go to Spain, and tell the Marquis all the truth, and neverreturn, if you would rather not. But, for the rest, we must bear it."
"Yes, my father," said Berthe submissively, "I know we must; but Godneed not, and I don't believe He will."
The father and the daughter left France unmolested, and Berthe "bore it"as well as she could. When better times come they returned, Prosper Alixan old man, and Berthe a stern, silent, handsome woman, with whom no oneassociated any notions of love or marriage. But long before their returnthe traditions of the Croix Rousse were enriched by circumstances whichled to that before-mentioned capital bargain made by the father of theGiraudier of the present. These circumstances were the violent death ofPichon and his two sons, who were killed by the fall of a portion of thegreat boundary-wall on the very day of its completion, and thediscovery, close to its foundation, at the extremity of Pichon's_terre_, of the corpse of a young man attired in a light-coloredriding-coat, who had been stabbed through the heart.
Berthe Alix lived alone in the Chateau de Senanges, under its restoredname, until she was a very old woman. She lived long enough to see thegolden figure on the summit of the "Holy Hill," long enough to forgetthe bad old times, but not long enough to forget or cease to mourn thelover who had kept his promise, and come back to her; the lover whorested in the earth which once covered the bones of the martyrs, and whokept a place for her by his side. She has filled that place for manyyears. You may see it, when you look down from the second gallery of thebell-tower at Fourvieres, following the bend of the outstretched goldenarm of Notre Dame.
The chateau was pulled down some years ago, and there is no trace of itsformer existence among the vines.
Good times, and bad times, and again good times have come for the CroixRousse, for Lyons, and for France, since then; but the remembrance ofthe treachery of Pichon & Sons, and of the retribution which at onceexposed and punished their crime, outlives all changes. And once, everyyear, on a certain summer night, three ghostly figures are seen, by anywho have courage and patience to watch for them, gliding along by thefoot of the boundary-wall, two of them carrying a dangling corpse, andthe other, implements for mason's work and a small leather valise.Giraudier, _pharmacien_, has never seen these ghostly figures, but hedescribes them with much minuteness; and only the _esprits forts_ of theCroix Rousse deny that the ghosts of Pichon & Sons are not yet laid.