POPULAR TALES.
Reed and Pardon, Printers, Paternoster-Row, London.
Scaramouche, p. 27.]
POPULAR TALES.
by
MADAME GUIZOT.
Translated from the French by Mrs. L. Burke.
London:George Routledge & Co.,Farringdon Street.1854.
PREFACE.
The favourable reception accorded to our first introduction of MadameGuizot's Tales to the English Public, leads us to hope that ouryouthful readers will welcome with pleasure another volume from the penof that talented writer.
This new series will be found in no respect inferior to the former;one of its tales, certainly, has even a deeper interest than anythingcontained in that volume, while the same sound morality, elevationof sentiment and general refinement of thought, which so stronglyrecommend the "Moral Tales" to the sympathies of the Parent andTeacher, will be found equally to pervade the present series.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
SCARAMOUCHE 1
CECILIA AND NANETTE 37
THREE CHAPTERS FROM THE LIFE OF NADIR 98
THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 116
THE DIFFICULT DUTY--MORAL DOUBTS 139
NEW YEAR'S NIGHT 169
THE CURE OF CHAVIGNAT 171
THE DOUBLE VOW 231
POOR JOSE 237
CAROLINE; OR, THE EFFECTS OF A MISFORTUNE 307
SCARAMOUCHE.
It was a village fair, and Punch with his usual retinue--Judy, theBeadle, and the Constable--had established himself on one side of thegreen; while on the other were to be seen, Martin, the learned ass, andPeerless Jacquot, the wonderful parrot. Matthieu la Bouteille (suchwas the nickname bestowed upon the owner of the ass, a name justifiedby the redness of his nose) held Martin by the bridle, while PeerlessJacquot rested on his shoulder, attached by a chain to his belt. Hiswife, surnamed _La Mauricaude_, had undertaken to assemble the company,and to display Martin's talents. Thomas, the son of La Mauricaude,a child of eleven years of age, covered with a few rags, which hadonce been a pair of trowsers and a shirt, collected, in the remnantof a hat, the voluntary contributions of the spectators; while in thebackground, sad and silent, stood Gervais, a lad of between fourteenand fifteen years of age, Matthew's son by a former marriage.
"Come, ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed La Mauricaude, in her hoarsevoice, "come and see Martin; he will tell you, ladies and gentlemen,what you know and what you don't know. Come, ladies and gentlemen, andhear Peerless Jacquot; he will reply to what you say to him, and towhat you do not say to him." And this joke, constantly repeated by LaMauricaude in precisely the same tone, always attracted an audience ofpretty nearly the same character.
"Now then, Martin," continued La Mauricaude, as soon as the circle wasformed, "tell this honourable company what o'clock it is." Martin,whether he did not understand, or did not choose to reply, stillremained motionless. La Mauricaude renewed the question: Martin shookhis ears. "Do you say, Martin, that you cannot see the clock at thisdistance?" continued La Mauricaude. "Has any one a watch?" Immediatelyan enormous watch was produced from the pocket of a farmer, and placedunder the eyes of Martin, who appeared to consider it attentively.The whole assembly, like Martin himself, stretched forward withincreased attention. It was just noon by the watch; after a fewmoments' reflection, Martin raised his head and uttered three vigorous_hihons_, to which the crowd responded by a burst of laughter, whichdid not in the least appear to disturb Martin. "Oh, oh! Martin," criedLa Mauricaude, "I see you are thinking of three o'clock, the time forhaving your oats; but you must wait, so what say you to a game ofcards, in order to pass the time?" And a pack of cards, almost effacedby dirt, was immediately extracted from a linen bag which hung at LaMauricaude's right side, and spread out in the midst of the circle,which drew in closer, in order to enjoy a nearer view of the spectacleabout to be afforded by the talents of Martin. "Now then, Martin; nowthen, my boy," continued his instructress, "draw: draw first of all theknave of hearts, and present it to this honourable company as a signof your attachment and respect;" and already the two or three wits ofthe crowd had nodded their heads with an air of approbation at thisingenious compliment, when Martin, after repeated orders, put forth hisright foot, and placed it upon the seven of spades.
At this moment the voice of a parrot was heard in the midst of thecrowd, distinctly pronouncing the words, "That won't do, my goodfellow." It was Peerless Jacquot, who, wearied at not having beencalled upon to join in the conversation, repeated one of his favouritephrases. The appropriateness of his speech restored the good humourof the company, who were beginning to be disgusted with Martin'sstupidity; and their attention would probably have been bestowed uponJacquot, had not Punch's trumpet been at that moment heard, announcingthat the actors were ready and the performances about to commence. Atthis signal Martin's audience began to disperse; the ranks thinned,and the remnant of the hat, which was seen advancing in the handsof Thomas, effectually drove away those who still lingered fromcuriosity or indifference. All took the same direction; and Matthew,Thomas, La Mauricaude, Martin, and Jacquot followed, with more orless of ill-humour, the crowd which had deserted them. Gervais alone,separating from them, went into a neighbouring street to offer hisservices, during the fair time, to a farrier engaged in shoeing thehorses of the visitors.
A far different spectacle from any with which Martin could amusethem, awaited the curious on the other side of the green. An enormousmastiff had just been unharnessed from a little cart, upon which hehad brought the theatre and company of the Marionettes; and now,lying down in front of the tent and at the feet of his master, heseemed to take under his protection those things which had thus fartravelled under his conveyance. Medor's appearance was that of auseful and well-treated servant; his looks towards his master thoseof a confiding friend. Va-bon-train (this was the name of the ownerof the Marionettes) might easily be recognized for an old soldier.The regularity of his movements added greatly to the effect oftheir vivacity; everything happened in its proper turn, and at itsproper time. His utterance was precise without being abrupt, andthe tone of military firmness which he associated with the tricksof his trade, gave to them a certain degree of dignity. Words takenfrom the languages of the different countries through which he hadtravelled were mingled, with wonderful gravity and readiness, in thedialogue of the personages whom he put in action; and scenes in whichhe had been personally concerned, either as actor or witness, firedhis imagination, and furnished incidents which enabled him to varyhis representations to an unlimited extent. He was assisted by hisson Michael, a fine lad about the age of Gervais, whom he very muchresembled, although the countenance of the one was as serious as thatof the other was cheerful and animated.
There was nothing strange in this resemblance, for Matthew andVa-bon-train were brothers, and Michael and Gervais therefore firstcousins. Va-bon-train, whose baptismal name was Vincent, owed hisnickname less to the regularity of his movements than to the vivacityof his disposition and the promptitude of his determinations. Havingat the age of twenty-five lost his wife, to whom he was much attached,and who had died in giving birth to Michael, he could not endure evena temporary grief, and therefore determined, in order to divert hismind, to enter the army, which he did in the quality of substitute,leaving the price of hi
s engagement for the support of his son, whomhe confided to the care of Matthew's wife, who had just given birthto Gervais. She nursed both the children, and brought them up withan equal tenderness and in good habits, for she was a worthy woman.They went to the same school, where they learned to read and write,and were instructed in their religion; they began working togetherin Matthew's shop, at his trade of a blacksmith; and, in fine, theywere united by a friendship which was no less ardent on the part ofthe lively Michael than on that of the graver Gervais. At the age ofthirteen, Gervais had the misfortune of losing his mother, and almostat the same time the additional one of being separated from Michael.Vincent Va-bon-train, who had obtained his discharge, had come forhis son, whose assistance he required in carrying out his enterpriseof the Marionettes, in which he had just engaged. Soon afterwardsMatthew's affairs began to fall into confusion. While his wife livedshe had kept a check on his love of drink, but no sooner was she deadthan he gave himself up to it without restraint. At the tavern hebecame acquainted with La Mauricaude, a low, bad-principled woman,who had followed all sorts of trades. He was foolish enough to marryher, and they soon squandered the little that remained to him, alreadymuch diminished by his disorderly conduct. Then she persuaded him togive up the shop, and travel through the country with his ass andhis parrot, assuring him that he would thereby gain a great deal ofmoney. This wandering kind of life accorded better than regular labourwith Matthew's newly-acquired habits; and he was the more ready totrust the assurances of his wife, as Va-bon-train had just reappearedin the country in a prosperous condition, the result of the successof his Marionettes. Matthew then formed the idea of entering intopartnership with his brother; but the latter was not at all anxiousfor the connexion, as Matthew's conduct was not calculated to inspirehim with any confidence. His second marriage had displeased him, andhe disliked La Mauricaude, though he had seen her but casually; buta soldier is not apt to be deterred by trifles, nor to allow hisantipathies to interfere with his actions; and besides, Matthew hadrendered him a service in bringing up his son Michael. For this he wasgrateful, and glad, therefore, to have an opportunity of manifestinghis gratitude. The caravan consequently set out, Michael delighted atbeing once more with his beloved Gervais, and Gervais sad at leavingthe respectable and regular course of life which suited him, viz. histrade of blacksmith, in which, notwithstanding his father's negligencein instructing him, he had already attained some proficiency. He wasin some degree consoled, however, by the prospect of travelling, andtravelling with Michael; and he was glad to leave a place where themisconduct of his father had ended in destroying the good reputationwhich until then his family had always enjoyed.
Unfortunately, the faults which had destroyed Matthew's reputationfollowed him wherever he went. Before the end of the first week, thetwo parties had disagreed. The baseness of La Mauricaude, and thewicked propensities of her son Thomas, who was always better pleasedwith stealing a thing than with receiving it as a gift, were soondiscovered to Va-bon-train, in a manner which led him to determine tobreak his agreement with them as readily as he had made it; and whenhe said to his brother, "We must separate," just as when he said, "Wewill go together," the matter was settled, and all opposition was outof the question. Michael no more thought of opposing his father'sresolution than any one else, he only threw himself weeping into thearms of Gervais, who pressed his hand sadly, but with resignation,having at least the comfort of thinking that his uncle would no longerbe a witness of the disgraceful conduct of his family. La Mauricaudewas furious, and declared that she was not to be shaken off in thateasy style; and she determined to follow her brother-in-law, in spiteof himself, in order to profit by the crowd he always attracted, andto endeavour at the same time to injure him, either by speaking ill ofhim in every way she could, or by trying to interrupt his performances,by the shrieks of the parrot, which she had taught to repeat insultingphrases, and to imitate the voice of the Marionettes. For two monthsshe persisted in her resolution, notwithstanding the remonstrancesof Matthew, whose remonstrances, indeed, were usually of very littleavail. At first, Va-bon-train was annoyed with these things; but hesoon reconciled himself to them with his usual promptitude. One day,however, he said to his brother, "Listen, Matthew: the roads are free;but let me not hear that you have allowed any one to think that thattoad yonder has the insolence to call herself my sister." So saying,he showed La Mauricaude the whip with which he was accustomed to giveMedor a slight touch now and then, in order to keep him attentive, andthe handle of which had more than once warned Michael of some failurein discipline. From that time, Gervais no longer saluted his uncle,for fear of offending him; and La Mauricaude, notwithstanding herimpudence, did not dare to run the risk of braving him openly. Besides,she would have found it no easy task to entice away his audience. Whocould enter into competition with "the great, the wonderful, _il veroScaramuccia_, Gentlemen, just come direct from Naples,[1] to presentto you, _lustrissimi_, the homage of his colleagues, the _Lazzaroni_?_Baccia vu_, your hand, _Monsu_ de Scaramouche." And Scaramouche bowedhis head, and raised his hand to his mouth, with a series of movementscapable of making you forget the threads by which they were directed."Look, gentlemen, look at Scaramouche, look at him full in the face; itis indeed Scaramouche; he has not a _sou_, not a _pezzetta_, Gentlemen,but how happy he is! See him with his mouth extended from ear to ear;his foot raised, ready to run or jump: but one turn of the hand, onesingle turn of the wheel of fortune, and behold the metamorphosis! Howanxious and grieved he looks! He is now the _Signor_ Scaramuccia, hehas become rich, he is counting his money in his hand; he counts, andnow he counts more still, and ever with increased vexation. Oh! whathas happened to him now? His countenance is changed. Oh! what a piteousface! He weeps; he tears his cap. _Povero Scaramuccia!_ What! _presso'l denaro!_ Your money has been stolen! Come, come, Scaramouche, _facuore_, take courage. No!... _Ammazarti?_ You want to kill yourself!Very well then, but first of all a little _Macaroni_. Yes, poorfellow, he will enjoy his _Macaroni_. See, gentlemen, how piteously hestretches out his hand, how he eats with tears in his eyes; but, _pianpiano, Scaramuccia_, gently, _vuoi mangiare tutto?_ Would you eat thewhole? Alas! yes; _tutto mangiare_, all, _per morire!_ in order thathe may die! What, die of indigestion! You are joking, Scaramouche;Macaroni never killed a Lazzarone. Stop, see, he revives again; how hedraws up his leg as a mark of pleasure! How he turns his eyes everytime he opens his mouth to receive _una copiosa_ pinch _di Macaroni_!_O che gusto! che boccone!_ How delightful! what a mouthful! Make yourminds easy, gentlemen, Scaramouche is alive again." A variety of scenessucceeded, displaying Scaramouche under numerous aspects, each moreadmirable than the former. The last was that in which the German onduty stopped Scaramouche, with the exclamation _Wer da!_ Scaramouchereplied in Italian, vainly endeavouring to make himself understood, andavoiding, by dint of suppleness, the terrible bayonet of the German.Then Punch came up, arguing to as little purpose in French. At length,the Devil carried away the German, and Punch and Scaramouche wentto enjoy a bottle together. The beauty of the invention drew forthenthusiastic and universal applause; the politicians of the placeexchanged mysterious glances; and when Scaramouche presented to theassembled crowd the little saucer which had been placed in his hands,there was no one who did not hasten to offer his sou, his liard,or his centime, for the pleasure of receiving a bow or a nod fromScaramouche.
The crowd slowly dispersed, conversing on the pleasure they hadenjoyed. "His Scaramouche breaks my back," said La Mauricaude, in atone of ill-temper.
"I have often told you, wife," replied her husband, "that by persistingin following them"....
"I have often told you, husband, that you are a fool," was the replyof La Mauricaude. To Matthew it appeared unanswerable; and Thomas,at a look from his mother, went off to visit Medor, who receivedhim politely, and with an air of old acquaintanceship. Va-bon-trainperceived him, cracked his great whip, and Thomas immediately ran awayas fast as he could.
Gervais was passing along the green, leading b
ack to its owner a horse,which he had helped to shoe. He did not approach, but Medor perceivedhim at a distance, got up, wagged his tail, and gave a slight whine,partly from the delight of seeing him, and partly from annoyance at notbeing able to go with him. Gervais gave him a friendly nod. Michaelfondly kissed the great head of Medor, and a smile seemed to brightenthe countenance of Gervais, at this expression of Michael's affection.It was only in such ways as this that any interchange of thought waspermitted to them.
Though possessed of many good qualities, Va-bon-train had onedefect,--that of forming precipitate judgments, and of being unwillingto correct them when formed. He came to a decision at once, in orderthat a matter might the sooner be settled; and when he had decided, hedid not wish to be disturbed in his opinion, as it took up too muchtime to change his mind. The violence done to his feelings in enduringLa Mauricaude for a whole week had so much increased his prejudice,that it had extended to the whole family. La Mauricaude was a demon,Matthew a fool, Thomas a rascal, and Gervais a simpleton. These fourjudgments once pronounced, were not to be over-ruled. Va-bon-trainwas very fond of his son, whose disposition quite accorded with hisown; but he kept him, in military style, under a strict and promptobedience, aware that the kind of life he made him follow, might,without the greatest care, lead a young man into habits of irregularityand idleness. Fortunately Michael was possessed of good dispositions,had been well brought up, and preferred to all other company thesociety of his father, who amused him with his numerous anecdotes.Besides, he made it a matter of pride to assist his father as muchas possible, and was never so delighted as when his exertions hadcontributed to the success of the day. Va-bon-train's industry wasnot confined to his Marionettes; he took advantage of his constantjourneys to carry on a small traffic, purchasing in one canton suchgoods as happened to be cheap there, and selling them in some other,where they were of greater value. He taught Michael how to buy andsell, and make advantageous speculations; and Michael would have beenperfectly happy in following this kind of busy, useful life, had it notbeen for the grief he felt in being unable to share his pleasures withGervais. But when, after having slept at the best inn which the town orvillage in which they happened to be, afforded, he saw Gervais in themorning, pale, from having passed a cold or rainy night with no othershelter than an old barn, his heart was pierced; and, notwithstandinghis father's commands, he found means to get away, and, with a flaskin his hand, hastened to offer a glass of wine to his friend, whorefused it with a shake of the head, but with a friendly look. Michaelsighed; yet this refusal only served to increase his affection forGervais; for he well knew that his offer was refused from honourablefeelings, not from pride or rancour. Nor was his mind relieved, exceptwhen Gervais succeeded in finding work; for then he knew that hewould have a good day. When at work, the habitually sad expression ofGervais' countenance, gave place to an air of animation quite pleasantto behold; and even Va-bon-train himself had been unable to resist thetemptation of stopping to look at him; and, observing the dexterityand courage with which he managed the horses, he remarked, "By myfaith, that fellow works well." Then Michael hastened to reply, "Oh!Gervais is a capital workman;" and he was beginning to add, "and such agood boy too," when Va-bon-train passed on and spoke of other things.Michael then contented himself with remaining a little behind, watchingGervais at work; and when they had exchanged looks, they separatedsatisfied.
Up to that time Gervais had been unsuccessful in his efforts to finda master who would take him into regular employment. There was no oneto be answerable for him; and those with whom he travelled were not ofa character to give him a recommendation. However, he made the besthe could of his wandering life, by endeavouring to perfect himself inhis trade, losing no opportunity of gaining information, and examiningwith care the treatment employed in the various maladies of animals,and all the other operations of the veterinary art. He also managedto live on his daily earnings, which he economized with the greatestcare, and thereby escaped the necessity of partaking of the ill-gottenrepasts of La Mauricaude and her son. Sometimes even he shared hisown food with his father, whose wretched life was spent in a state ofalternate intoxication and want, giving himself up to drink the momenthe had money, and the next day going without bread. As it suited LaMauricaude to have some one who could take care of the ass and theparrot, while she and her son attended to their own affairs, they wereinduced to treat Matthew with some degree of consideration, at leastso far as to allow him a share in their profits, of which, however,they were careful to conceal from him the source, for Matthew, evenin his degraded condition, preserved an instinct of honesty, whichsometimes caused him to say with a significant air, but only when hewas intoxicated, "As for me, I am an honest man;" for when sober, hehad not so much wit. La Mauricaude had several times endeavoured to getfrom Gervais the money he earned, but her demands were always firmlyresisted, and Gervais afterwards took especial care not to leave hismoney within reach of her or her son. She had likewise tried to breeddissensions between him and his father; but Matthew respected his son,and La Mauricaude found that it was not to her interest to excitetoo much the attention of Gervais, for his surveillance would havebeen very inconvenient to her. She therefore ended by leaving him intolerable peace, one reason of which may have been that she saw littleof him, as he usually left the party as soon as it was day, and did notreturn until bed-time, when he rarely slept under a roof, unless it wasthat of some deserted shed.
The performances of the morning were over, and Va-bon-train stoodchatting at the door of the inn where he had dined with an old friend,a blacksmith from Lyons. They were then about twenty-five leaguesdistant from that town, on the road to Tournon, whither the blacksmithwas going on some private business. Blanchet, such was this person'sname, was clever at his trade, and well to do in the world. Theblacksmith of the village in which they were then staying was a formerapprentice and workman of his, and he had stopped to visit him as hepassed through, and was now on the point of resuming his journey. Theforge was at a short distance from the inn; and Gervais, who had justleft it, as it was getting dark, came up to the spot where Va-bon-trainand Blanchet were conversing. The street was narrow, and, moreover,partially blocked up by a horse that was tied in front of the inn.Va-bon-train chancing to turn his head in the direction by whichGervais was approaching, perceived him coming, and drew back to allowhim to pass. Gervais blushed and hesitated; he had not been so close tohis uncle for two months. At length he passed on, and, without raisinghis eyes, bowed to him as he would have done to a stranger, but with anexpression of the most profound respect. Michael's eyes were suffusedwith tears, and for a moment those of Va-bon-train followed his nephew,who, turning round and encountering his uncle's looks, hastily withdrewhis own and continued his way.
"Do you know that lad?" demanded Blanchet.
--"Why?"
"Because yonder at the forge, a short time since, they were talkingabout you."
--"And what did he say?" continued Va-bon-train, with an expression ofrising displeasure.
--"He? Nothing:--but one of the men was relating something, I don'tknow what, about a woman with whom he had been drinking yesterday,some two leagues hence, and who told him that you had abandoned yourbrother in misfortune. This lad immediately tapped him on the shoulder,saying, '_Comrade, that is no business of yours. It is always bestnot to interfere in family quarrels._' The man was silenced; and I,learning from what passed, that you were here, for I had not then beenout upon the green, I wished to add my word, so I said, that if you didleave your brother in misfortune, it must be because he deserved it,for I well knew the kindness of your heart; whereupon, the young fellowgave me also my answer, though politely enough however, for he said,'_Notwithstanding all that, Master Blanchet, it is much better not tointerfere in family affairs_;' and the lad was right as to that; butfrom all this I thought he must know you, more especially when, a shorttime since, while passing the inn-yard, I saw him enter it, and drawsome water for your dog to drink."
Va-b
on-train was visibly moved. Michael, whose heart beat violently,looked at his father.
"He was at work, then, at the blacksmith's?" demanded the latter withsome degree of emotion.
"Yes; and hard at it too, I can tell you. It is vexatious that you donot know him. He was anxious to be taken as a regular hand there; butwhen asked who would be answerable for him, he replied, '_No one._' Hadit not been for this, I would have engaged him myself, for I am sure hewill turn out a capital workman."
"You think so?"
"Oh! you should see how he sets to work; he would learn more about hisbusiness with me in six months, than with any one else in three years.But one cannot take him without a recommendation. I heard him say toone of his companions, that this was the third situation he had lost inthis manner, nor will he ever get one."
"Oh dear!" exclaimed Michael, who could no longer restrain his feelings.
"Well!" said Va-bon-train. "My friend Blanchet will take him on myrecommendation. Take him, friend; I know him, and will be answerablefor him."
"Nonsense! what are you talking about?"
"Nothing; only that I shall see you at Lyons, whither you arereturning:--but when?"
"I shall be there on Monday week."
"And so shall I; and I will come and dine with you: we will arrangethis matter over our glasses. But, at all events, you will take the ladif I am answerable for him; do not make me break my word."
"No, no; the thing is settled; good bye till Monday week;" and theyparted.
"But Gervais must be told," said Michael, trembling with joy.
"Go, then, and make haste back; tell him to be at Lyons by Mondayweek, if possible; but, above all, he must take care that the old toadknows nothing about it." This was his usual epithet for La Mauricaude.Michael departed, and Va-bon-train went to a neighbouring tavern, intowhich he had seen Matthew and his company enter. The price of a pair ofstockings worth fifty sous, which had been stolen from a shop at thefair, and sold a quarter-of-an-hour afterwards for twenty, served todefray the expenses of the party; and Matthew, owing to the cheapnessof the wine that season, was just on the verge of intoxication, whenVa-bon-train, coming up, said to him, "Matthew, there is but one wordbetween you and me: when I go one way, you must take care and go theother; if you don't, your old toad and her young one will every morningget for their breakfast a sound dressing from this whip."
"As for me, Vincent, I am an honest man," stammered Matthew. LaMauricaude was about to vociferate; and the host took part with hiscustomer.
"Friend," said Va-bon-train, "when you settle your account with thathussey, I will not interfere; but look well to the money she givesyou:" and he walked out. As soon as he was gone, La Mauricaude pouredforth a torrent of abuse. Those of her neighbours whose hearts beganto be warmed and their wits clouded by the wine they had taken, agreedunanimously, that to come and insult in that manner respectable people,who were quietly taking their glass, without interfering with any one,was a thing not to be borne: and Matthew again repeated, "As for me,I am an honest man." The rest, as they looked at La Mauricaude andher son, made some reflections on Va-bon-train's speech, and the hostthought it high time to demand payment. This completed the ill-humourof La Mauricaude.
As for Michael, he had hastened to Gervais, and delivered his message.A sudden flush of surprise and joy suffused the countenance of thelatter, on learning that his uncle would be answerable for him; andwhen the voice of Va-bon-train was heard calling his son, the twofriends pressed each other's hands, and parted, each cherishing thethought of the happiness which was about to dawn for both of them.
All was quiet at the inn where Va-bon-train had taken up his abode forthe night, when, awaking from his first sleep, he thought he heardMedor in the yard, groaning, and very uneasy. He went down stairs, andwas surprised to find him tied by a cord to a tree that was near thecart, and so short that he could scarcely move. As he was accustomed toallow Medor his liberty at night, feeling quite sure that he would makeuse of it only to defend more effectually his master's property, heconcluded that some one had thought to render him a service, by tyingup the dog for fear of his escaping; for in the darkness he had notperceived that the other end of the cord which attached Medor to thetree, had been passed round his nose, so as to form a kind of muzzle.Eager to liberate the poor animal, he cut the cord, which was fastenedround his neck by a slip knot, and which, but for the intervention ofhis collar, must have strangled him. The cord once cut, the knot gaveway, and, by the aid of his fore paws, Medor was soon freed from hisignoble fetters. No sooner had he regained his liberty, than he beganto scent with avidity all round the yard, moaning the whole time; thenhe dashed against the stable door as if he would break it in. Hismaster, astonished, opened it for him, supposing, from what he knew ofhis instinct, that some suspicious person might be concealed there; butMedor was contented with running across the stable, still scenting,to the opposite door, which led into the street, and which, by themeans of this stable, formed one of the entrances to the inn. Hismaster called him, he came back with reluctance, and, still moaning,laid down at his feet, as if to solicit a favour; then he ran to thevehicle, again returned, and rushed with greater violence against thefirst door, which his master had in the mean time closed. Astonishedat these manoeuvres, Va-bon-train went to his cart; but everythingwas in order, the trunk locked, and nothing apparently to justify thedog's agitation. Then, presuming that Medor, notwithstanding his goodsense, was, like all dogs and all children, impatient to set out onhis journey, and had been seized with this fancy rather earlier thanusual, he gave him a cut with his whip, sent him back to the cart, andreturned to bed.
The next morning, when he went down, he called Medor, but no Medoranswered. He sought for him everywhere, but without success; he thenrecollected what had taken place during the night, and feared that someone had stolen him.
"Was he there," demanded one of the travellers, "when you went down inthe night to take something from your cart?" Va-bon-train declared thathe had taken nothing from his cart.
"The heat was insufferable," continued the man, "and we had thewindow open. One of the workmen from the forge, who slept in my room,said: 'See, there is some one meddling with the box belonging to theexhibitor of the Marionettes.' 'His dog does not growl,' said I, 'so itmust be the man himself. Never mind, friend; let us sleep.'"
Va-bon-train hastened to his box, which was still locked; he opened it,and found everything in disorder: Scaramouche had disappeared, as wellas a dozen of Madras handkerchiefs, the remains of a lot purchased atthe fair of Beaucaire, and the greater part of which had been sold onhis journey. Who could have done this? Va-bon-train remembered havingfound a key upon the road, a few days after he had associated himselfwith Matthew, and which fitted his trunk. He lost it again the nextday, but had not troubled himself about it. Now he guessed into whosehands it had fallen, and felt assured that Medor would not have allowedhimself to be approached and led away by any one but an acquaintance.
"That boy who was at work close by, at the blacksmith's," said thelandlord of the inn, "did he not come in here, and give the dog somedrink?"
"He who came with the woman and the ass?" said the hostess. "He seemedto be a respectable lad."
"_You_ may think so," replied a neighbour; "but when I saw him enterthe stable yonder, after dark, I said to Cateau, What is that little_vagabond_ going to do there?"
"Gervais!" exclaimed Michael.
"Yes," said the landlord, "he was called Gervais at the blacksmith's."The flush of anger mounted to the face of Va-bon-train. The idea ofhaving been duped was added to the annoyance of his loss, and he sworethat he would never again be caught overcoming a prejudice. A lesshasty disposition would have examined whether the innkeeper and theneighbour were not speaking of different persons, and whether suspicionought not more naturally to fall upon Thomas and La Mauricaude. Butthe woman whose explanations would have thrown light upon the subjecthad gone home, and among those who remained there was no one who hadseen them, or, at
all events, who would acknowledge to have done so;for where there is not some falsehood to complicate matters, it is rarethat truth does not break out, so great is its tendency to manifestitself.
La Mauricaude, who was never so persuasive as when she had beendrinking, had formed acquaintance with one of the ostlers of theinn, who, on his side, was easily led by persuasion, when in thesame condition. She had obtained from him a gratuitous place in thestable for Martin, and, though against his master's express orders, acorner also for Thomas. Hence, furnished with some of the remains ofthe travellers' supper, which he had obtained from his protector, itwas an easy matter for Thomas to enter the yard, and entrap the tooconfiding Medor, who had no suspicion of treachery from the hand of anacquaintance. At the moment when Medor, without abandoning his post,raised his head to smell what was presented to him, Thomas passed themuzzle on his nose, and the slip knot round his neck, and the pooranimal found himself tied up to a tree, without having been able tomake the least resistance; for, could he have made any, he would easilyhave triumphed over his adversary. Thus master of the field, Thomas hadno difficulty in prosecuting his designs, by means of the key which, atall risks, he had possessed himself of at the first opportunity thatoffered. Martin, taken from the stable before daybreak, carried off thestolen goods, and scarcely had the morning begun to dawn, when Matthew,roused from the heavy sleep of intoxication, and, almost unconscious ofwhat he was doing, left the arch of the bridge, beneath which he hadslept, in the bed of a dried-up stream.
Gervais had obtained, from the blacksmith by whom he had been employed,the permission to pass the night in his woodhouse, upon a heap ofvine twigs. Awakening from a sleep which, for the first time for twomonths, had revived hope in his bosom, he arose with a light heart,full of eagerness to commence his journey towards his new destination.The evening before, he had told his father that he was going to leavehim, for the purpose of seeking employment; and Matthew, whose paternalaffections were greatly strengthened after the second bottle, gave himhis benediction, with tears in his eyes, saying, "Go, my son, and gainan honest living; and wherever you go, you may declare that I am anhonest man." As for La Mauricaude, she troubled herself very littleabout him, neither did he wish her to do so. His serious and reserveddisposition had prevented anything like friendly feeling between them.
He walked with a light heart towards Lyons, calculating that in orderto get there, he would require on his journey some little work anda great deal of frugality; for even by sleeping in sheds, beneathbridges, or under trees, it was impossible that his twenty-one sous,the proceeds of his work the day before, and of his previous economy,should be sufficient for the maintenance of a lad of fifteen, duringthe ten days that must yet elapse, before the arrival of that happyMonday, which was to bring him the protection of his uncle and ofMaster Blanchet. But how should he be uneasy about the means ofreaching his destination? He was already there in imagination. He wasabout to live with those who, every day and every hour, would recognizehis probity. He was going to have an opportunity of proving his rightto be esteemed, a necessity keenly felt by those who, like him, haveknown humiliation without deserving it, and without allowing themselvesto be depressed by its influence. And then, how many delights werein store for him! That pair of shoes which he carried so carefullyfastened to the end of his stick, whenever he had far to walk, he mightsoon be able to wear continually, for he foresaw the time when heshould be in a condition to buy others. Nevertheless, he must endeavourto make them last until he had purchased a second shirt, so as to avoidthe necessity of going without one occasionally, as was the case, whenof an evening, taking advantage of some secluded nook, he took off theonly one he had, washed it in the stream and dried it on the grass ofthe bank. The idea of possessing a pair of stockings to dance in onholidays presented itself to his imagination in the distant future,around which crowded in perspective the inexhaustible joys of life.Then came the thoughts of a more solid happiness, and all the ambitionsof an honourable man. He was able to set up for himself; to work onhis own account; to withdraw his father from the wretched life hiswicked companion forced him to lead, and secure to him a tranquil oldage, due to his son who loved him notwithstanding his irregularities.Then, his thoughts rushing over intervening years, Gervais wouldquicken his steps as if to reach the future, and his imaginationwarmed, as the sun rose, and shed its brilliant beams over the horizon.
Whilst abandoning himself to these reveries, he felt something cooland moist pressing against his hand. It was the nose of Medor; who,after licking his hand, looked at him and wagged his tail, but with anexpression which seemed to ask a question; and having smelt him fromhead to foot, he went on, his nose in the air, and smelling constantlywith the same anxiety. Gervais called him back; Medor stopped, lookedat him with an uneasy expression, and continued his journey in thesame manner. It was quite evident that he was in search of something;but being ignorant of what had taken place during the night, Gervaiswas at a loss to conjecture what it could be. It struck him, that,separated perhaps by some accident, Medor and his master might now bein search of each other, and with this idea, he could not suppose thatVa-bon-train was still at the inn, whither Medor would undoubtedlyhave returned; it seemed to him, therefore, the best plan, to allowthe animal to obey his instinct, contenting himself with following himso as to prevent his going astray, and preserve him from the danger ofbeing taken or killed as a dog without an owner. He rejoiced in theopportunity thus afforded him of rendering his uncle a service; and,imagining that Medor had had nothing to eat, he gave him a part of thebread he had bought for his day's provision, and which the poor thingdevoured with as much appetite as his agitation would permit. Theythen continued their journey together, Medor being always in advance,except when, from time to time, some new fancy seemed to seize him.Then he would turn as if to retrace his steps, again stop and moan:alternately swayed by the instinct and affection which drew him towardshis master, and that which hurried him on to the recovery of what hadbeen confided to his care. Gervais would then call him, and, decided bythe voice of his friend, Medor would return and continue his pursuit.
They journeyed thus for about two hours, when all at once, at a partwhere the road, somewhat hollow, wound in such a manner as to preventa distant view, Medor, rushing forward, dashed round the corner withsuch rapidity that Gervais could not doubt that he had found hismaster. Then redoubling his speed, he also advanced trembling betweenhope and fear, and was most disagreeably surprised, when, at the turnof the road, he perceived his father, La Mauricaude, the ass, andThomas, in the greatest embarrassment, contending with Medor, who,without any provocation, and with all the consideration due to oldacquaintanceship, had seized upon Thomas in such a manner, that the boyfound it impossible to disengage himself from the animal's enormousclaws, which, fixed upon the lad's shoulders, served as a support toMedor, who, by smelling about in all directions, at last discovered anold cloth bag lined with leather, which was placed upon the back ofthe ass, and the cords of which, unhappily for Thomas, had been woundround his arm. Medor's teeth laboured both at the cords and at thebag, which he endeavoured to open, almost upsetting Thomas at everyeffort; the latter, in despair, and screaming with terror, clung withall his strength to Martin's pack-saddle. "What is the matter with thedog?" quietly asked Matthew, who had been a calm spectator of a scene,which to him had the advantage of rousing him from his apathy. ButLa Mauricaude, at once furious and frightened, gave the animal someviolent blows with a stick. Medor, however, did not seem conscious ofthem. At length, seizing a large stone, she threw it at him; it struckhim on the hind leg, and he fell howling, dragging down Thomas in hisfall; the ass also was shaken, and even Matthew was astonished. Gervaisonly arrived in time to address a word of reproach to La Mauricaude,who was busied in raising her son: he then ran after Medor, who hadfled, howling, and limping on three legs. He succeeded in catchinghim, and found that one of his hind legs was broken. Submissive like asuffering animal to the friend who seeks to relieve him, Medor lay downclo
se to him, and allowed him to examine his leg. Fortunately, Gervaiswas able to repair the mischief. Naturally kind hearted, it was to thatbranch of his business which treats of the cure of animals, that he haddirected his attention with the greatest interest, and he had alreadybeen successful in a case somewhat similar. Matthew, who, when left tohis own free will, was always inclined to sympathise with his son, andwho, moreover, was delighted at having an opportunity of returning fora moment to his former occupations, willingly assisted his pupil, nowbecome more skilful than himself. The instruments of his art, treasureswhich Gervais carefully preserved, together with some medicineswhich he had renewed, or added to, as opportunity permitted, werefound sufficient for the emergency. By the united efforts of the twooperators, whom La Mauricaude also consented to aid, for reasons whichmay perhaps be guessed, the leg was well set; and a piece of the lasthandkerchief that Gervais possessed, and the enormous rents of whichhe had often contemplated with a sigh, served as a bandage to confinethe dressing; and Medor, led by Gervais, was enabled to continue hisjourney without much pain.
Somewhat cast down by his accident, however, poor Medor was no longerable to pursue his search with the same vigour; and besides, duringthe operation, Thomas, instructed by his mother, had transferredScaramouche, together with the Madras handkerchiefs, into one ofMartin's panniers, where, covered over with straw, they were lessexposed to the keen scent of the animal. Nevertheless, some secretcharm always attracted him to the side on which they were, and Gervaiswas astonished at the difficulty which he found in restraining him.Wishing to divert him from this fancy, and determined to go directto Lyons, as the surest place of meeting with his uncle, Gervaisseized the first opportunity offered by their stopping at a tavern,to separate himself from the troop, with which he had so unluckilycome up. But he was not a little annoyed at perceiving, after a fewmoments, that he was followed in the distance by Thomas, who seemedcommissioned to act as a spy upon his movements, while the rest of thecaravan appeared soon afterwards. The fertile genius of La Mauricaudehad immediately suggested to her the advantage to be derived from thepossession of Medor, a magnificent dog in excellent condition, whomight be sold at a very high price. The difficulty was to divert thevigilance of Gervais, whom at the same time it was necessary to keepin view, until she had accomplished her design. The following days,therefore, were passed in a perpetual struggle, Gervais endeavouring torecover his liberty, and La Mauricaude seeking to prevent his escapefrom their odious company. She was singularly seconded by Medor, whoseinstinct she aroused by taking advantage of every opportunity thatoffered to approach him unobserved, and permit him to get a distantscent of Scaramouche, the companion of all his travels, the one of allhis master's mimic company with whom he had lived on the most familiarterms, when Va-bon-train and his son, in their leisure moments, hadendeavoured to invent for him new attitudes, and to rehearse newperformances. Then all Medor's affection would revive, he would rushwith a plaintive cry upon the cords which restrained him; but beforethis movement could warn Gervais of what was passing, La Mauricaudehad said to Thomas, "Hide Scaramouche," and Thomas, obedient to hisinstructions, had concealed the precious talisman. Matthew, who wassometimes a witness of these proceedings, demanded the meaning of them;but they deceived him with a feigned tale, told him to be silent, andhe was so. But in his evening enjoyments at the tavern, purchasedduring these days, by the successive sale of the Madras handkerchiefs,he nightly repeated, with a degree of feeling amounting even to tears,"As for me, I have nothing to do with all this; for, at all events, itis certain that I am an honest man."
To the many annoyances which, at this time, fell to the lot of poorGervais, was added the far greater one of being unsuccessful in hisattempts to obtain work. In vain had he gone to the right and to theleft, wherever he had been led to hope that it might be procured.Everywhere his hopes were frustrated, and, at the same time, theexpense of keeping Medor had rapidly accelerated the consumption ofhis little store, although the condition of the poor dog sufficientlyattested the frugality of his repasts. It grieved Gervais to the heartto see his downcast look, and a certain expression of sadness, whichseemed to ask for what it was out of the power of his protector tobestow; for he had given him all he could give, scarcely reservinganything for his own support.
In consequence of his many deviations from the high road in thesefruitless endeavours to obtain work, and to escape the inevitableMauricaude; they at last reached Saturday, the 21st of August, and werestill eleven leagues from Lyons. It was six o'clock in the evening, andneither Gervais nor Medor had eaten anything since the previous night.Exhausted by this fast, as well as by the low diet of the few precedingdays, they walked with difficulty: and yet they had still a league togo before they could arrive at the village of Auberive, where Gervaishad determined to stop, and where, as a last resource, he intended tosell his shoes, in order to have the means of reaching Lyons on thefollowing Monday, the term alike of his hopes and resources. For somemoments he had watched Medor with great anxiety, for he saw that hewas panting more than usual. The day had been excessively oppressive;and the idea that the want of food, added to the heat and fatigue,exposed the dog to the danger of madness, presented itself to hisimagination, and filled him with terror. While seated for a moment'srest, a peasant boy, of about his own age, happened to pass by, eating,with a good appetite, a piece of bread. This sight roused the desiresof the half-famished Gervais, and Medor raised his now animated eye,and wanted to run to the boy, to ask him for a portion of his meal.Unable to resist the temptation he felt, and, above all, the appeal ofthe companion of his journey, Gervais asked the lad if he would buy hisshoes, promising that he would sell them cheap.
"How much?" demanded the boy.
"If you have some bread, I will take that, and ten sous besides."
"I have only six sous," replied the rustic, roughly; "and, besides, Idon't want your shoes."
"If you have any bread, comrade," continued Gervais, who could notresist the hope with which he had just flattered himself, "give it tome with the six sous, and the shoes shall be yours."
"As for the bread, there is no difficulty about that," replied theboy; and he took from his bag a piece, weighing about a pound, tooeager to conclude so good a bargain to perceive that he might havemade it still better. Three two-sous pieces terminated the affair, andtwo-thirds of the pound of bread were at once set apart as the portionof Medor, whom Gervais saw, with a melancholy pleasure, devour in amoment, a piece to which he had nothing to add. Medor's repast, infact, was ended, before Gervais had got half through his; and, with alonging eye, the poor dog watched the piece which the latter held inhis hand, gently whined, and scratched his knee with his great paw, inorder to obtain the little that remained. "You are very hungry, then,my poor Medor," said Gervais: "well then, this also shall be yours." Hegave him the whole; and the sacrifice was sufficiently great, at thatmoment, to make him think he had acquired a right to the affection ofhis uncle. He then rose to continue his journey, hoping to be able toreach Auberive; but, whether from want of food, or because the heat ofthe day had exhausted him, after proceeding a few steps, he was obligedto lean for support against a tree, and, at last, sank to the ground,almost senseless. Induced either by curiosity or remorse, the youngpeasant who had bought the shoes occasionally looked back towards him.He saw him fall, and returned, but could give no assistance. He spoketo him, but Gervais was scarcely able to answer. Medor watched hisfriend with an uneasy look; and the peasant, who perhaps might havebeen little sensible to other evils, was moved by the sight of a miserywhich he could understand, and felt some comfort at the thought that,at all events, Gervais had not been rendered worse by having sold hisshoes for a quarter of their value.
Providence at that moment directed to the spot another traveller, whocame on at a vigorous pace, his coat neatly folded in a handkerchief,and suspended from a stick which he carried on his shoulder. It wasMaster Blanchet. He approached Gervais, but did not at first recognisehim. "Has that boy fainted from h
unger?" said he to the young peasant."I think he has," replied the lad, "for he had but one bit of bread,and he gave almost all of it to his dog." Meanwhile, Master Blanchetdrew from his bundle a small flask of brandy, with which he alwaystook care to be provided when on a journey, and made Gervais swallowa few drops of it, while the addition of a piece of bread and a sliceof sausage completed his recovery. "A little patience," said Gervaisto Medor, who wanted to share this repast also. "Poor Medor," hecontinued, caressing him, "all our troubles are over now," for he hadrecognised Master Blanchet, but did not as yet dare to express hisjoy except in this indirect manner. Struck by the name of Medor, andby the voice of Gervais, which was beginning to assume its naturaltone, Blanchet recognized him, was greatly astonished, and put to himmany questions; while the peasant lad, who thought he saw Gervaisglance towards the shoes, which perhaps at that moment he regrettedhaving parted with so easily, blushed, and walked away, persuaded thathis further stay was no longer necessary to any one, and might bedisadvantageous to himself.
Gervais' tale was simple enough; he had nothing but the truth to tell;the only difficulty was to explain the nature of his connexion withVa-bon-train. Seeing that the latter had not acknowledged him as hisnephew, he felt that in their respective positions it was not for himto be the first to break the silence. Thus, when Blanchet asked himhow he had become known to his friend, Gervais replied, "He will tellyou that himself; it is not my business to speak of his affairs."Blanchet questioned him on all sides, but without being able to elicitany further information; nevertheless, his replies displayed so muchintegrity, together with so much good sense and caution, that he beganto feel a great respect for him; a feeling which was much increasedafter he had examined Medor's paw, which was then in progress of cure,and which he found perfectly well set. He could not doubt, therefore,of the talents of Gervais in the different branches of his art. He tookhim with him to Auberive, where he intended to pass the night, so as toreach Lyons without fatigue on the next day but one. Plenty of onionsoup, and a good omelette, procured for Gervais the best meal whichhad touched his lips for many a day. Medor was also able to make up forhis previous fast; and, to complete the happiness of Gervais, he found,at the inn where they stopped, the lad to whom he had sold his shoes.Master Blanchet commented so loudly on the disgrace of such a bargainin such circumstances, and his remarks were so fully approved of byall who heard them, that, whether from fear, or shame, or conscience,the lad consented to return the shoes at the price which he had givenfor them, and even made it a point of honour to refuse the value ofthe pound of bread, a sacrifice which procured for him from Blanchet agood draught of wine and a slice of sausage. Thus everything fell intoorder, and Gervais a second time thought himself at the summit of hishopes; but another day, and another trial, were still to be encountered.
The little room in which Master Blanchet and Gervais slept could not,manage as they would, accommodate a third guest, of the size of Medor.He was, therefore, lodged in the stable; and Gervais, confiding in hisnew-born happiness, the first earnest of which he had just received,resigned himself to sleep without any anxiety for the safety of hisprotege; the more so as, since the morning, he had seen nothing ofthe odious Mauricaude, and therefore believed himself freed fromher at last. Nevertheless, on the following morning Medor had againdisappeared; whether in consequence of some new stratagem on the partof La Mauricaude, or from the instinct which urged him to the pursuitof Scaramouche, or the desire to return to his master, could never beascertained. But certain it is, however, that by this new imprudencehe fell into the snare which had long been laid for him; and the firstinformation which the inquiries of Gervais elicited made it certain,that it was only by following the traces of La Mauricaude that hecould hope to recover those of Medor. A double affection made successa necessity for him. He therefore requested the permission of MasterBlanchet, under whose authority he already considered himself, to goin search of the fugitive; and Blanchet appointed, as their place ofmeeting in the evening, the village of Saint Syphorien, or, as it issometimes called, Symphorien, situated about four leagues from Lyons,where he intended to pass the night.
Gervais spent a part of the day in a fruitless search in theneighbourhood. At length some indications led him to the town ofVienne; there he lost them; but, on describing the retinue of LaMauricaude, he was informed, that in all probability she was goneto Saint Syphorien, as it happened to be its fete day. He made allpossible haste to reach the place, and arrived there about seveno'clock in the evening. The first object which struck him as he enteredthe village was La Mauricaude, in conversation with a man to whom sheseemed on the point of delivering over Medor, who, sorrowfully resignedto his new condition, appeared cast down by the vicissitudes of hisfate. At the sight of Gervais, however, his animation returned, and hestarted as if to rush towards him.
"That is my dog," exclaimed Gervais, who at the moment thought only ofhis claims to Medor; and the dog, by the expression of his joy, seemedanxious to confirm his words.
"'Tis false, you thief," replied La Mauricaude, with her customaryamenity. "Medor!" she added; and, thus addressed, the dog turned hishead, as if to prove that he recognized his name, as well as the voiceby which it was pronounced. "You see very well that he knows me," shecontinued, with a volley of abuse and oaths, which we need not repeat.
"Nevertheless, the dog does not belong to you," said Gervais.
"Nor to you either, liar," &c. &c.
The dispute had been carried on in so vehement a tone, that it wasimpossible for Gervais to expose the truth of the matter. A thirdinterest, that of the purchaser of the dog, already compromised by aconsiderable sum paid in advance, was here introduced, as a furthercomplication of the affair, when an exclamation from a terrible voiceannounced the approach of Va-bon-train, who, having reached SaintSyphorien, and learning the cause of the quarrel, came forward to cutshort all disputes. He made his way through the crowd, and had alreadyhis left hand on Medor, while his whip, raised in the other, menacedGervais, who, drawing back with indignation, though still with respect,endeavoured to avoid the necessity of defending himself otherwise thanby words. Nevertheless, had it not been for Medor's transports ofjoy, which somewhat embarrassed his master's movements, Va-bon-trainwould have been already upon him, and Gervais must have submittedto the cruel alternative of either failing in respect to his uncle,or of enduring an ignominious treatment, the bare idea of which wasinsupportable to him.
"He is a thief," exclaimed the perfidious Mauricaude, taking advantageof this opportunity to turn upon another the accusation which sheherself merited. "He said the dog was his!" and several voicessimultaneously repeated, "Yes, he did say so."
"You have been seen all along the road," continued Va-bon-train,"dragging him after you in spite of his resistance;" and a voicerepeated, "I saw him." It was in vain that Gervais endeavoured to makehimself heard,--the public opinion was against him. Assailed by acrowd of painful emotions, and distressed above all by the treatmenthe received from him whose gratitude he so much merited, he felt hiscourage forsake him, and could no longer restrain his tears, tearswhich only seemed to be an additional evidence against him. Severalpersons interposed between him and his uncle, but he himself nolonger thought of safety; and whilst the efforts of Va-bon-train wereredoubled, in order to get near him, notwithstanding the endeavours ofthe crowd to prevent it, Gervais was exhausting his, in demanding as asuppliant the justice due to his innocence. Michael, whom his fatherhad pushed away from him, not knowing what to think of his friend, butdeeply distressed at the sight of the misfortunes which overwhelmedhim, and the danger which still threatened him, seemed to appeal to allaround to intercede for a reconciliation which every moment appearedto render impossible. However, Heaven again came to the assistanceof Gervais, by directing Master Blanchet to the spot. Attracted bythe noise, he came out from the house of a friend with whom he hadsupped; and Michael, perceiving him, ran to meet him. The name ofMedor, mingled in the almost unintelligible explanations given by the
agitated Michael, led Blanchet to suppose that his young friend Gervaismight have something to do in the matter; he therefore hastened hissteps, and arrived at the very moment when, by an increased exertion ofstrength and anger, Va-bon-train, forcing his way through the crowd,was about to rush upon Gervais. Blanchet seized him by the shoulders,and pushed him backwards, saying, "Stop! stop! there's time enough foranger, but not always for explanation."
Less disposed than ever to profit by this good advice, Va-bon-trainwas, in all probability, upon the point of turning his rage against himwho offered it, when a new incident arose to change once more the faceof the affair. Matthew approached the scene of action, and Martin andJacquot, under his guidance, were added to the spectators. Jacquot hadnot been deaf to certain words, which for several days past had struckhis attentive ears. Encouraged probably by the noise, he began torepeat, though in a timid and uncertain tone, and as if he were sayinga lesson, which he was not quite sure of knowing,--"Thomas, hideScaramouche!"
--"Scaramouche!" repeated Michael, who had heard him; and now Jacquot,more sure of what he was about, went on, and constantly raising hisvoice in proportion as the noise around him increased, and excited him,his words at length reached the ears of Va-bon-train, who turned round;while Medor, taking advantage of his first moment of liberty, rushedupon Martin, and this time rummaging, without obstacle, in the bottomof the pannier, dragged out the unfortunate Scaramouche, who, allcrippled and disordered as he was, still retained sufficient life toexpress by his attitudes the distress of his condition. Medor advancedand placed him triumphantly in the hands of his master; who, in hissurprise and joy, knew not to which of his two friends to offer hisfirst caresses. But Medor had not finished his task; and returning tothe pannier, notwithstanding the efforts of La Mauricaude, who hastenedto the defence of her booty, he drew from it the last of the Madrashandkerchiefs, which she had preserved for her own use.
"Infamous old toad!" exclaimed Va-bon-train, "'tis you, then, who haverobbed me." And immediately turning towards Gervais, whom the presenceof Blanchet had encouraged to approach, "Why were you with her?" hedemanded, in a tone which already indicated his desire of finding himless in fault.
--"I was not with her," said Gervais. "They were not together,"repeated several of the voices which had at first borne testimonyagainst him.
"And why did you take away my dog?" again demanded Va-bon-train.
--"In order to bring him back to you, and to prevent him from followingher." Then the accusations began to turn upon La Mauricaude. Onerecognized her as having given him on the previous evening a badten-sous piece; another had seen Thomas skulking about his house, andan hour after, found that a fowl had been stolen. La Mauricaude beganto vociferate, and then to cry as she saw the storm increase, anddirect itself against her; meanwhile Gervais drew near his father, who,already more than half intoxicated, and hardly able to understand whathe heard, contented himself, without taking any part in the matter, byaffirming, that, "as for him, he was an honest man."
"Get out of my way, you fool!" said his brother, pushing him behindhim; then advancing towards La Mauricaude, who, still vociferating andcrying, was endeavouring to make her escape, amid the hootings whichpursued her, he contented himself with cracking his whip in her ears tohasten her steps. The crowd by which she was accompanied, diminishedas she retreated, and by degrees the clamours of the little boys, whoalone persisted in following her, died away. These assailants shedispersed by throwing stones at them, and they afterwards reported thatthey had seen both her and her son Thomas join a band of gipsies, whowere on the point of departure. From that time she has never been heardof.
Quiet was once more restored at Saint Syphorien, and Va-bon-trainreceived from Blanchet the explanations necessary to establish the goodconduct of his nephew. "But where, in the name of Fortune, did you meetwith him?" continued Blanchet. "He would never tell me."
"What, Gervais!" said Va-bon-train, "will you not acknowledge me foryour uncle?" Michael, transported with joy, once more threw his armsround the neck of his friend, and Va-bon-train afterwards received theacknowledgments of his nephew's grateful affection. "Now then, what isto be done with Matthew," said Va-bon-train--"now that he has got ridof his old toad?" "He cannot live alone," said Gervais, casting downhis eyes.
"Well, then, let him come with me," continued Va-bon-train; "Martinwill, at all events, be learned enough to carry a part of my baggage,which is becoming too heavy for Medor. I will teach Jacquot manycapital things, and we shall get on very well together."
These words rendered Gervais completely happy, and the gratitudeinspired by his uncle's kindness towards himself, was far exceededby what he now experienced, on account of his father. They went forMatthew to the tavern, where they found him still drinking, the longerto defer the moment of payment. This difficulty was removed by hisbrother, who thenceforth considered himself as charged with his care.The arrangement was proposed to him, and he accepted it, just as hewould have done, had he been sober, only that he repeated a littleoftener, and with rather more emotion than usual, "You, Vincent, knowvery well, that I at least am an honest man."
They had a joyful supper that night, Medor remaining at the side of thetable, with his head upon his master's knee, which he left only to givea slight caress to Michael, or a look and a wag of his tail to Gervais.The following day, before their departure for Lyons, Gervais receivedfrom the generosity of his uncle, the pair of stockings, the shirt, andthe two handkerchiefs, necessary to complete his outfit, and had thesatisfaction of arriving with him at the workshop of Master Blanchet,not as a poor boy, received almost as an act of charity, but as a goodworkman, countenanced and recommended by respectable relatives.
He has justified their hopes and his own, having become MasterBlanchet's head workman; he is about to marry his only daughter,and his father-in-law, rich enough to retire, has given up to him abusiness, which Gervais will not allow to decline under his care.Matthew, who only needs guidance, contents himself with being a littlemerry after his first meal, and a little sleepy after the last. Hehopes to spend a peaceful old age with his son, while Va-bon-train,who, without being old, is also anxious for repose, has purchased asmall property, married again, and given up his marionettes and thefaithful Medor to his son Michael. Matthew has generously added theass, and Jacquot, and has announced for Gervais' wedding-day, "_aperformance for the benefit of friendship, in which is to be seenthe wonderful dispute between peerless Jacquot and the incomparableScaramouche_."