MYSTERIES- 
 
 MARSEILLES-
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 EMILE ZOLA 
 
 TRANSLATED 
 
 K I) WARD YI/KTKI.I.Y 
 
 Xon&on 1805 
 
 HUTCHINSON & CO. 
 
 34 PATERNOSTER ROW
 
 raixTKr AT NIMEKUEN (iir>[.i.ANn) 
 
 BY II. C. A. THIEME OF NIMEGUEN (HOLLAND) 
 
 AND 
 
 FAI.BOT HOUSE, ARUNIIEL STREET, 
 LONDON, W.C.
 
 
 ' t 
 
 
 '0
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. HOW BLANCHE DE CAZALIS ELOPED WITH PHILIPPE CAYOL. I 
 
 II. INTRODUCES THE HERO, MARIUS CAYOL 5 
 
 III. THERE ARE MENIALS IN THE CHURCH 9 
 
 IV. HOW M. DE CAZALIS AVENGED HIS NIECE'S DISHONOUR. l6 
 V. BLANCHE JOURNEYS SIX LEAGUES ON FOOT, AND SEES 
 
 A PROCESSION PASS BY 22 
 
 VI. THE HUNT AFTER THE LOVERS 26 
 
 VII. BLANCHE DENIES HER LOVE 34 
 
 VIII. THE IRON POT AGAINST THE EARTHEN EWER. ... 39 
 
 IX. M. DE GIROUSSE LETS HIS TONGUE WAG 46 
 
 X. A SCANDALOUS TRIAL 55 
 
 XI. HOW BLANCHE AND FINE FIND THEMSELVES FACE TO 
 
 FACE 60 
 
 XII. WHICH SHOWS THAT A GAOLER'S HEART IS NOT ALWAYS 
 
 MADE OF STONE (15 
 
 XIII. A BANKRUPTCY, AS THERE ARE MANY 69 
 
 XIV. IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT IT IS POSSIBLE TOSPKNI) 
 
 THIRTY THOUSAND FRANCS A YEAR WHEN ONLY 
 
 EARNING EIGHTEEN HUNDRED 75 
 
 XV. PHILIPPE REFUSES TO SAVE HIMSELF 8 1 
 
 XVI. THE USURERS 86 
 
 XVII. TWO SHAMELESS CHARACTERS 96 
 
 XVIII. IN WHICH THERE IS A GLIMMER OF HOPE IOI 
 
 XIX. A RESPITE 105
 
 CON T E N T S 
 
 VII 
 
 PART II 
 
 CHAPTER I'AGIi 
 
 I. M. SAUVA1RE, THE MASTER STEVEDORE IIO 
 
 II. A MARSEILLAISE LORETTE Il6 
 
 III. IN WHICH MADAME MERCIER SHOWS HER CLAWS . . 122 
 
 IV. WHICH SHOWS THAT THE POSITION OK A LORETTE IS 
 
 NOT WITHOUT ITS TROUBLES 128 
 
 V. DOUGLAS, THE NOTARY 134 
 
 VI. MARIUS SEEKS UNSUCCESSFULLY FOR A HOUSE AND A 
 
 MAN 1 40 
 
 THE COWL DOES NOT MAKE THE FRIAR 148 
 
 THE NOTARY'S SPECULATIONS 152 
 
 HOW AN UGLY MAN MAY BECOME HANDSOME ... l6o 
 
 HOSTILITIES ARE RENEWED 169 
 
 DOUGLAS IN THE PILLORY AT MARSEILLES 173 
 
 MARIUS LOSES HIS WITS 177 
 
 THE GAMBLING-HOUSES OF MARSEILLES 1 82 
 
 IN WHICH MARIUS WINS TEN THOUSAND FRANCS . . l8b 
 
 HOW MARIUS HAD BLOOD ON HIS HANDS 195 
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRE'S PRAYER-BOOK 203 
 
 IN WHICH SAUVAIRE MAKES UP HIS MIND TO HAVE 
 
 HIS MONEY'S WORTH OF FUN 209 
 
 III. HOW ABBE DONADEl ELOPED WITH THE SISTER SOUL 
 
 TO HIS OWN 214 
 
 ix. PHILIPPE'S RANSOM 220 
 
 C.X. HIE ESCAPE 220 
 
 PART 111 
 
 I. THE CONSPIRACY 232 
 
 II. M. DE CAZALIS HAS A PLAN 237 
 
 III. WHICH TELLS OF THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY A PIECE 
 
 OK WHITE RAC. 24 I 
 
 IV. IN WHICH M. 1>K CA/ALIS RUNS THE KI>K OF I.OMNG 
 
 HIS HEAD WHILE LOSING HIS GREAT NEPHEW . . 2^O 
 
 V. IN WHICH BLANCHE BIDS FAREWELL 1<> THEWoRI.D. 255
 
 VIII 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 VI. A SPECTRE 260 
 
 VII. M. DE CAZAI.IS YEARNS FOR JOSEPH 264 
 
 VIII. "OPEN, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW ! " 268 
 
 IX. PARDON ! PARDON ! 2/4 
 
 X. THE INSURRECTION OF FEBRUARY, 1848 280 
 
 XI. IN WHICH MATHEUS BECOMES A REPUBLICAN. . . . 288 
 
 XII. THE REPUBLIC AT MARSEILLES 296 
 
 XIII. WHAT MATHEUS UNDERSTOOD BY STRATEGY .... 304 
 
 XIV. THE RIOT ... - 311 
 
 XV. IN WHICH MATHEUS COMPLETES HIS WORK 322 
 
 XVI. THE BARRICADES AT THE PLACE AUX CEUFS .... 328 
 
 XVII. WHAT MATHEUS, THE FORESEER, DID NOT FORESEE . 338 
 
 XVIII. THE ATTACK 345 
 
 XIX. IN WHICH MATHEUS AT LAST GETS JOSEPH IN HIS ARMS. 354 
 
 XX. HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT 359 
 
 XXI. THE DUEL 368 
 
 XXII. THE PUNISHMENT 378 
 
 XXIII. EPILOGUE 382
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 part i. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW BLANCHE DE CAZALTS ELOPED WITH 
 PHILIPPE CAYOL. 
 
 TOWARDS the end of the month of May, 184, a man 
 about thirty years of age was walking rapidly along a 
 footpath in the Saint Joseph quarter, near the Aygalades. 
 He had left his horse in the care of a small cultivator 
 occupying a neighbouring farm, and was going in the 
 direction of a large, solidly-built square house, a kind of 
 country chateau, such as are to be found on the hills of 
 Provence. 
 
 The man turned aside to avoid the chateau and went 
 and seated himself in a pine wood, which spread out 
 behind the building. Then, anxious and feverish, he 
 pushed aside the branches and glanced along the path- 
 ways apparently awaiting someone with impatience. 
 Now and again he rose and took a few steps, then 
 reseated himself all in a tremble. 
 
 This man, who was tall and of strange appearance, wore 
 bushy black whiskers. His long face, marked by energetic 
 lineaments, displayed a kind of violent and passionate 
 beauty. Suddenly his eyes softened and a tender smile 
 spread over his thick lips. A young girl had just issued from 
 the chateau, and, stooping as though to hide herself, 
 was hastening towards the pine wood. 
 
 Rosy and breathless, she reached the shelter of the trees. 
 She was barely sixteen years old. Beneath the blue 
 ribbons of her straw hat, her young face was smiling with 
 a joyous and at the same time a startled expression.
 
 2 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Her fair hair fell over her shoulders ; her little hands, 
 pressed to her breast, were endeavouring to calm her 
 throbbing heart. 
 
 "How late you are, Blanche!" said the young man. 
 "I had almost giving up hoping to see you." 
 
 And he seated her on the moss beside him. 
 
 "Forgive me, Philippe," answered the young girl. "My 
 uncle has gone to Aix to purchase an estate ; but I could 
 not get rid of my governess." 
 
 She yielded herself to the embrace of him she adored, 
 and the two lovers enjoyed one of those long talks which 
 are at once so silly and so sweet. Blanche was like a 
 big child playing with her lover as she would have done 
 with a doll. Philippe, now ardent and speechless, was 
 pressing the young girl to him and gazing upon her with 
 all the transports of love and ambition. 
 
 And whilst they were seated there, oblivious of the 
 world, they noticed, on raising their heads, some peasants 
 who were following a neighbouring path, whilst watching 
 them, and laughing. Blanche, full of alarm, drew away 
 from her lover. 
 
 "I am lost!" she exclaimed, turning quite pale. "Those 
 men will inform my uncle. Ah ! for pity's sake, Philippe, 
 save me !" 
 
 The young man jumped up on hearing her cry. 
 
 "If you wish me to save you, "he replied, impetuously, 
 "you must follow me! Come, let us fly together! To- 
 morrow, your uncle will consent to our marriage, and we 
 shall be united for evermore." 
 
 "Fly, fly," repeated the child. "Ah ! I fear I have not 
 the courage to do so. I am too weak, too timid." 
 
 " I will sustain you, Blanche. We will live a life of 
 love." 
 
 Blanche, without hearing, without replying, let her head 
 drop on Philippe's shoulder. 
 
 "Oh ! I dread, I dread the convent," she resumed, after 
 a time, in a low voice. "You will marry me, you will 
 love me always ?" 
 
 "I love you See, I am on my knees." 
 
 Then, closing her eyes, yielding, Blanche hastily de-
 
 HOW BLANCHE DE CAZALIS ELOPED. 3 
 
 scended the slope, clinging to the arm of Philippe who 
 had risen. After she had gone some distance, she looked 
 back a last time at the home she was leaving, and a 
 poignant emotion filled her eyes with tears. 
 
 A minute's error had sufficed to throw her into the 
 young man's arms, exhausted and confiding. She loved 
 Philippe with all the warmth of a first passion, with all 
 the folly of her inexperience. She was running away like 
 a school-girl, voluntarily, and without weighing the terrible 
 consequences of her flight. And Philippe was carrying 
 her off, intoxicated with his victory and quivering at feeling 
 her moving and panting at his side. 
 
 At first he thought of hastening to Marseilles to procure 
 a vehicle. But he was afraid to leave her alone on the 
 high road, and he preferred to go with her on foot as 
 far as his mother's country-house, which was situated quite 
 a league away, in the Saint Just quarter. 
 
 Philippe had to leave his horse behind, and the two 
 lovers started off bravely together. They passed through 
 meadows, ploughed fields and pine woods, taking short 
 cuts and walking very quickly. It was about four o'clock. 
 The sun, clear and scorching, cast before them broad sheets 
 of light. And they hastened along in the warm air, urged 
 on by the madness which was eating into their hearts. 
 As they passed by, the labourers raised their heads and 
 watched their flight with amazement. 
 
 It did not take them an hour to reach the home of 
 Philippe's mother. Blanche, quite tired out, seated herself 
 on a stone bench beside the door, whilst the young man 
 went to sec if the coast was clear. He then returned 
 and conducted her to his room. He had begged Ayassc, 
 a gardener whom his mother was employing that day, to 
 fetch a vehicle from Marseilles. 
 
 Both were still a prey to the excitement of their flight. 
 Whilst awaiting the vehicle, they remained silent and 
 anxious. Philippe, having led Blanche to a little chair, 
 knelt at her feet and gazed lingcringly at her, seeking to 
 reassure her by gently kissing the hand she yielded 
 to him. 
 
 "You cannot remain in that light gown," he said, after
 
 4 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 a time. "Would you like to dress up as a man ?" 
 
 Blanche smiled. She felt childlike joy at the thought 
 of disguising herself. 
 
 "My brother is rather short," continued Philippe. " You 
 can put on some of his things." 
 
 It made them quite merry. The young girl dressed 
 herself, laughing the while. She was charmingly awkward, 
 and Philippe eagerly kissed the blushes on her cheeks. 
 When she was ready, she had quite the appearance of 
 a little man, of a youngster of twelve. She had great 
 difficulty in confining her mass of hair in the hat, and 
 her lover's hands trembled as he gathered the rebellious 
 Jocks together. 
 
 Ayasse at length returned with the vehicle. He con- 
 sented to receive the fugitives in his own home at Saint 
 Barnabe. Philippe took what money he possessed, and 
 all three entered the carriage which they left at the Pont 
 du Jarret, continuing the journey to the gardener's house 
 on foot. 
 
 It was now twilight. Transparent shadows were falling 
 from the pale heavens, whilst acrid odours rose from the 
 earth, still warm with the last rays of the sun. Then a 
 vague fear took possession of Blanche. Her heart was 
 sinking within her, she sought to gain time. 
 
 "Listen," said she to Philippe, "I will write to my 
 confessor, Abbe Chastanier. He will go and see my uncle, 
 to obtain my pardon and his consent to our marriage. I 
 think I should not be so frightened were I your wife." 
 
 Philippe smiled at the tender simplicity of the last words. 
 
 "Write to Abbe Chastanier," he answered. "For my 
 part, I will send my brother our address. He will come 
 to-morrow and will take your letter." 
 
 It was thus that Blanche de Cazalis eloped with Philippe 
 Cayol, one fine May evening. 
 
 Ah ! sweet and terrible night ! which was doomed to 
 overwhelm the lovers with wretchedness, and bring them 
 nothing but suffering and regret for the rest of their lives.
 
 THE HERO, MARIOS CAYOL. 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 INTRODUCES THE HERO, MARIUS CAYOL. 
 
 MARIUS CAYOL, the brother of Blanche's lover, was about 
 twenty-five years old. He was short, thin and puny. 
 His light yellow face, with its long narrow black eyes, was 
 lighted up at times with a kind smile of self-devotion and 
 resignation. He walked with a slight stoop, and the 
 hesitation and timidity of a child. But the hatred of evil, 
 the love of uprightness, that filled his being, made him 
 appear almost handsome. 
 
 He had assumed the hardships of the family, leaving 
 his brother to follow his ambitious and passionate instincts. 
 
 He made himself quite insignificant beside him, saying, 
 generally, that as he was the ugly one he ought not to 
 emerge from his ugliness; he added that it was excusable 
 for Philippe to like to display his fine figure and the 
 vigorous beauty of his countenance. Moreover, when 
 necessary, he could be severe towards the great impetuous 
 child, who was his senior, and whom he treated with the 
 remonstrances and affection of a father. 
 
 Their mother, now a widow, was not at all wealthy. 
 She had a difficulty in making both ends meet on the 
 remnants of her dowry, the major portion of which her 
 husband had lost in business. This money, deposited at 
 a banker's, yielded her a small income which had enabled 
 her to bring up her two sons. But, when they had reached 
 man's estate, she showed them her empty hands, and 
 placed them face to face with the difficulties of life. And 
 the two brothers, thrown thus into the struggle for existence, 
 led on by their different natures, followed diametrically 
 opposite courses. 
 
 Philippe, who had an appetite for wealth and liberty, 
 could not bend himself to labour. He wished to attain 
 fortune by the shortest road, and had visions of making 
 a rich marriage. That was, in his idea, an excellent 
 expedient, a rapid means of obtaining an income and a 
 pretty wife. So he passed his life in the sunshine, became
 
 6 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 amorous, and even slightly dissipated. He experienced 
 an extreme delight in being well-dressed, in displaying 
 his elegant, hasty manners, his eccentric garments, his 
 love-laden glances and speeches, about Marseilles. His 
 mother and brother, who spoilt him, endeavoured to provide 
 for his whims. Moreover,- Philippe was acting in good 
 faith : he adored women, and it seemed natural to him 
 to be beloved and carried off some day by a rich and 
 beautiful young girl of noble birth. 
 
 Whilst his brother was exhibiting his fine looks, Marius 
 had taken a situation as clerk in the office of M. Martelly, 
 a ship-owner residing in the Rue de la Darse. He felt 
 quite happy hidden away in his office, his sole ambition 
 being to earn a modest competence, and to live a peaceful 
 and unostentatious life. Besides this, he felt a secret 
 pleasure in assisting his mother and brother. The money 
 he earned was dear to him, because he could give it 
 away and bestow happiness with it, and himself taste the 
 profound delights of self-sacrifice. He had chosen in life 
 the straight way, the painful path which leads to peace, 
 joy, and self-respect. 
 
 The young man was on the point of starting for his 
 office, when he received the letter in which his brother 
 informed him of his elopement with Mademoiselle de 
 Cazalis. It filled him with painful surprise, and he beheld 
 at a glance the frightful chasm into the depths of which 
 the lovers had cast themselves. He hastened without 
 loss of time to Saint Barnabe. 
 
 At the door of Ayasse the gardener's house was a 
 vine trained to form an arbour, whilst two big mulberry 
 trees, pruned to the shape of parasols, spread their knotty 
 branches around and cast their shade upon the entry. 
 Marius found Philippe seated in the arbour, gazing lovingly 
 upon Blanche de Cazalis beside him. The young girl, 
 already weary, was silently regretting what they had 
 done. 
 
 The interview was a painful one, full of anguish and 
 shame. Philippe rose up. 
 
 " You blame me ? " he asked, holding his hand out to 
 his brother.
 
 THE HERO, MARIUS CAYOL. 
 
 / 
 
 "Yes, I blame you," answered Marius energetically. 
 "You have committed a base action. Pride has led you 
 away and passion has ruined you. You have not thought 
 of the evils you will bring on your family and yourself." 
 
 Philippe protested. 
 
 "You are frightened," he said bitterly. "For myself, 
 I did not stop to consider. I loved Blanche and she 
 returned my love. I said to her: 'Will you come with 
 me?' and she came. That is the whole story. We are 
 neither of us deserving of censure." 
 
 " Why lie ? " replied Marius with greater severity. " You're 
 not a child, and you know very well that your duty was 
 to protect this young lady against herself: you should 
 have stayed her on the brink of wrong, prevented her 
 accompanying you. Ah ! don't talk to me of love. I 
 recognise only the love of justice and duty." 
 
 Philippe smiled disdainfully, and drew Blanche to his 
 breast. 
 
 " My poor Marius," said he, "you are a good fellow 
 but you have never been in love and do not understand 
 its fever. This is my defence." 
 
 And he allowed Blanche to embrace him as she clung 
 quiveringly to him. The poor child felt well enough that her 
 only hope was in this man. She had given herself away, 
 she belonged to him. And now she worshipped him 
 almost as a slave, lovingly and in fear. 
 
 Marius, in despair, felt that he would do no more good 
 in talking reason to the lovers. He determined to f!!ow 
 his own instincts, and asked for full details of the unhappy 
 affair. Philippe quietly answered his questions. 
 
 "I have known Blanche for nearly eight months," he 
 said. " I met her first at a public festival. She was 
 smiling in the crowd, and I fancied her smile was 
 meant for me. Since that day I have loved her and 
 have sought every opportunity of meeting and address- 
 ing her." 
 
 "Haven't you written to her?" asked Marius. 
 
 "Yes, many times." 
 
 "Where are your letters?" 
 
 " She has burnt them. Each time I wrote, I bought a
 
 8 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 bouquet of Fine, the florist on the Cours Saint Louis, and 
 slipped my letter in amongst the flowers. Marguerite, the 
 milkwoman, used to take Blanche the bouquets." 
 
 " And did your letters remain unanswered ? " 
 
 " At first, yes, Blanche refused the flowers. Then, she 
 accepted them ; and finally, she ended by answering me. 
 I was madly in love. I dreamed of marrying her and 
 of loving her for ever." 
 
 Marius shrugged his shoulders and drew Philippe on 
 one side. He there continued the investigation with more 
 harshness in his voice. 
 
 "You're either a fool or a liar," said he quietly. "You 
 know very well that M. de Cazalis, deputy, millionaire, 
 all-powerful in Marseilles, would never have given his 
 niece to Philippe Cayol, poor, plebeian, and republican in 
 addition to his other drawbacks. Confess that you have 
 reckoned on the scandal that your elopement will 
 occasion to force Blanche's uncle to come to terms." 
 
 "Well! and what then?" retorted Philippe, impetuously. 
 " Blanche loves me, and I have in no way forced her 
 will. She has freely chosen me for her husband." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I am aware of all that. You have said it too 
 often for me not to know how much of it I should believe. 
 But you have not considered M. de Cazalis' anger, which 
 will fall with terrible force on you and your relations. I 
 know the man; last night he no doubt exhibited his 
 outraged pride to all Marseilles. The best thing you can do 
 is to take the young lady back to her home at Saint Joseph." 
 
 " No, I will not, I cannot. Blanche would never dare 
 return home. She had only been at the country-house 
 about a week; I was in the habit of seeing her twice a 
 day, in a little pine-wood. Her uncle knew nothing, and 
 it must have been a great shock to him. It is impossible 
 for us to go there at present." 
 
 " Well! listen, give me the letter for Abbe Chastanier. 
 I will see him, and, if necessary, will go with him to call on 
 M. de Cazalis. We must hush up the scandal. I have 
 a task to perform, the task of repairing the wrong you 
 have done. Promise me you will not leave this house, 
 that you will await here my further instructions."
 
 THERE ARE MENIALS IN THE CHURCH. 9 
 
 "I promise you to wait, if no danger threatens me." 
 
 Marius took Philippe's hand and looked him loyally in 
 the face. 
 
 "Love this child well," he said, in a deep voice, point- 
 ing to Blanche; "you will never be able to undo the 
 wrong you have done her." 
 
 He was about to take his leave, when Mademoiselle de 
 Cazalis came forward. She clasped her hands in supplication, 
 stifling her sobs. 
 
 "If you see my uncle, sir," she stammered, "be sure 
 and tell him that I love him. I cannot account for what 
 has happened. I would like to remain Philippe's wife 
 and to return to my home in his company." 
 
 Marius slightly bowed. 
 
 "Have hope," he said. 
 
 And he went off sad and troubled, feeling that his 
 words were a lie, and that to hope would be madnc-s. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THERE ARE MENIALS IN THE CHURCH. 
 
 ON reaching Marseilles, Marius directed his steps to the 
 church of Saint Victor, to which Abbe Chustanier was 
 attached. It is one of the oldest churches in Marseilles; 
 its dark, high, and crenulated walls give it the appearance 
 of a fortress. The rough people of the port hold it in 
 particular veneration. 
 
 The young fellow found the priest in the sacristy. He 
 was a tall old man, with a long emaciated face, pale as 
 wax ; his sad eyes had a fixed look of suffering and 
 misery. He had just returned from a funeral, and was 
 slowly taking off his surplice. 
 
 His history was a short and sad one. Born of peasant 
 parents, and as gentle and innocent as a child, he had 
 taken orders to satisfy the pious wish of his mother. In 
 becoming a priest he had desired to perform an act of 
 humility, of absolute devotion. He believed, in his sim- 
 plicity, that a minister of God should bury himself
 
 10 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 in the infiniteness of divine love, renounce the ambitions 
 and intrigues of the world, and live in the heart of the 
 sanctuary, absolving sins with one hand and dispensing 
 charity with the other. 
 
 Ah ! poor abbe ! how they let him see that the simple- 
 minded are only fit to suffer and remain in obscurity! 
 He was soon to learn that ambition is a sacerdotal virtue, 
 and that young priests often love God for the sake of the 
 worldly favours that His church distributes. He beheld 
 all his comrades of the seminary struggling tooth and 
 nail. He assisted at these internal battles, those secret 
 intrigues which turn a diocese into a turbulent little king- 
 dom. And, as he remained humbly on his knees, as he 
 did not seek to please the feminine portion of the congre- 
 gation, as he asked for nothing and appeared piously 
 stupid, he was endowed with a miserable living, thrown 
 to him as one casts a bone to a dog. 
 
 He remained thus, for forty years, in a little village 
 situated between Aubagne and Cassis. His church was 
 a kind of barn, lime-washed and icily bare ; in winter, 
 when the wind blew in one of the window-panes, the 
 interior was chilled for weeks together, for the poor priest 
 did not always possess the few coppers necessary to replace 
 the broken glass. Yet he never complained,, he lived 
 peacefully amidst his wretchedness and solitude. He even 
 experienced great joy in suffering, in feeling himself kin 
 to the beggars of his parish. 
 
 He was sixty years old, when one of his sisters, a work- 
 woman at Marseilles, became an invalid. She wrote to 
 him, beseeching him to come to her. The old priest 
 therefore begged his bishop to find him a small place in 
 one of the city churches. He was kept waiting the fulfil- 
 ment of his modest request for several months, when at 
 length he received a call to Saint Victor. There he had 
 to undertake, so to say, all the roughest work, all the 
 labour that brought least renown and least profit. He 
 prayed over the coffins of the poor and led them to the 
 cemetery ; he even at times fulfilled the duties of sacristan. 
 
 It was at this period that he began really to suffer. So 
 long as he had remained in his desert, he had been able
 
 THERE ARE MENIALS IN THE CHURCH. l I 
 
 to be simple, poor, and old at his ease. Now, he felt 
 that his poverty and old age, his gentleness and simplicity 
 were looked upon as a crime. And his heart was rent 
 when he understood that there could be menials in the 
 Church. He saw well enough that he was looked upon 
 with derision and scorn. He bowed his head still more, 
 becoming yet more humble, weeping over his faith, shaken 
 by the words and deeds of the worldly priests 
 about him. 
 
 Fortunately of an evening, he had some happy moments. 
 He nursed his sister, consoling himself in his own way 
 by devoting himself to another. He surrounded the poor 
 invalid with a thousand little joys. Then another pleasure 
 had been vouchsafed him : M. de Cazalis, who had no 
 faith in young abbes, had selected him to be his niece's 
 spiritual adviser. The old priest seldom attracted a lady 
 penitent and scarcely ever heard a confession. He was 
 moved to tears on the receipt of the deputy's proposal, 
 and he questioned, he loved Blanche as though she had 
 been his own child. 
 
 Marius handed him the young girl's letter and watched 
 his face for a trace of the emotions the reading of it was 
 about to cause him. He beheld the signs of acute grief. 
 Yet the priest did not appear to experience that surpr.se 
 which results from unexpected news, and Marius concluded 
 that Blanche had mentioned in confession her growing 
 affection for Philippe. 
 
 "You did well to count upon me, sir," said Abbe 
 Chastanier to Marius. " But I am very weak and not at 
 all skilful. I should have displayed more energy." 
 
 The poor man's head and hands shook with that sad 
 gentle trembling peculiar to old people. 
 
 " I am at your disposal," he continued. "How can I 
 assist the unhappy child ?" 
 
 "Sir," replied Marius, "I am the brother of the young 
 madman who has eloped with Mademoiselle dc Caxalis, 
 and I have sworn to right the wrong, to stifle the scandal. 
 Will you join with me. The young lady's honour 
 is gone if her uncle has already denounced the affair to 
 the authorities. Go, therefore, and find him, endeavour to
 
 12 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 calm his anger, and tell him his niece shall promptly 
 be restored to him." 
 
 "Why did you not bring her with you? I know how 
 passionate M. de Cazalis can be. Nothing but certainty 
 will satisfy him." 
 
 "It is just that anger which has frightened my brother. 
 Besides, this is no time for reasoning. We are overwhelmed 
 with accomplished facts. Believe me, I feel as in- 
 dignant as you, and fully understand how disgraceful my 
 brother's behaviour has been. But, for pity's sake, let us 
 do something." 
 
 "Very well," said the abbe simply, "I will go wher- 
 ever you wish." 
 
 They went along the Boulevard de la Corderie and 
 reached the Cours Bonaparte where the deputy's 
 town house was situated. M. de Cazalis, a prey to 
 terrible anger and despair, had returned to Marseilles 
 early in the morning following the elopement. Abbe 
 Chastanier stopped Marius at the door of the house. 
 
 "Do not come in," said he. "Your visit might be 
 considered an insult. Let me manage, and wait for 
 me here." 
 
 Marius walked feverishly up and down the pavement 
 for a good hour. He would have preferred to have gone 
 in, to have explained matters himself and have asked 
 for pardon in Philippe's name. Whilst the fate of his 
 family was under discussion in that house, he had to 
 remain there, outside, inactive, and a prey to all the 
 agony of waiting. At length Abbe Chastanier came out. 
 He had been weeping; his eyes were red, his lips quivering. 
 
 " M. de Cazalis will listen to nothing," he said, in a 
 troubled voice. " I found him in a blind rage. He has 
 already been to the crown -attorney." 
 
 The poor priest did not mention that M. de Cazalis 
 had received him with the bitterest reproaches, venting his 
 anger upon him, and accusing him, in his rage, of having 
 given evil counsel to his niece. The abbe bent beneath 
 the storm ; he almost fell on his knees, not seeking to 
 defend himself, but imploring the deputy to take pity on 
 the others.
 
 THERE ARE MENIALS IN THE CHURCH. 13 
 
 "Tell me all!" exclaimed Marius, in despair. 
 
 "It appears," the priest replied, "that the man with 
 whom your brother left his horse, assisted M. de Cazalis 
 in his search. A complaint was lodged at an early hour 
 this morning, and the police have been to ransack your 
 lodging in the Rue Sainte, and your mother's house at 
 Saint Just." 
 
 " Good heavens ! good heavens! " sighed Marius. 
 
 " M. de Cazalis swears that he will crush the whole of 
 your family. I vainly endeavoured to bring him to a 
 kindlier frame of mind. He talks of having your mother 
 arrested." 
 
 "My mother! Whatever for?" 
 
 " He makes out that she is an accomplice, that she 
 assisted your brother in carrying off Mademoiselle Blanche." 
 
 " What can we do, how prove the falsity of such an 
 accusation? Ah! wretched Philippe! It will be the death 
 of our mother." 
 
 And Marius sobbed aloud, his face buried in his hands. 
 Abbe Chastanier beheld his fit of despair with tender 
 pity. He understood the goodness and probity of the 
 poor lad, who wept thus in the open street. 
 
 "Come, my child," he said, "be courageous." 
 
 "You are right, father," exclaimed Marius, "it is courage 
 I need. I was weak, this morning. I should have wrested 
 the young lady from Philippe, and have taken her 
 back to her uncle. An inner voice bade me perform that 
 act of justice, and I am punished for not having obeyed 
 its prompting. They talked to me of love, passion, marriage, 
 and I allowed their words to move me." 
 
 They remained a moment silent, and then Marius said 
 suddenly : 
 
 "Come with me. Between us, we shall be strong enough 
 to separate them." 
 
 "I am willing," the abbe replied. 
 
 And, without even thinking to take a cab, they followed 
 the Rue de Breteuil, the canal quay, the Napoleon quav, 
 and then ascended the Cannebierc. They walked hurriedly 
 along, without speaking. When they reached the Coins 
 Saint Louis, the sound of a fresh young voice caused
 
 14 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 them to turn their heads. It was Fine, the flower-girl, 
 calling Marius. 
 
 Josephine Cougourdan, familiarly known by the pet name 
 of Fine, was one of those Marseilles brunettes, small and 
 plump, whose refined features have preserved all the 
 delicate purity of their Grecian ancestors. Her round 
 head stood upon slightly drooping shoulders; her pale 
 face bore an expression of disdainful scorn beneath her 
 braided black hair; passionate energy was visible in 
 her large melancholy eyes which were softened now and 
 again by a smile. She was from twenty-two to twenty- 
 four years of age. 
 
 When only fifteen she found herself an orphan with 
 a young brother, not more than ten years old, dependent 
 upon her. She bravely took her mother's place, and three 
 days after the funeral, whilst still suffering from her great 
 grief, she was seated in a kiosk on the Cours Saint Louis 
 making up and selling nosegays, sobbing the while. 
 
 The little florist soon became the spoilt child of Mar- 
 seilles. Her youth and grace secured her popularity. 
 Her flowers, it was said, had a sweeter smell than those 
 sold elsewhere. Gallants swarmed around her; she sold 
 them her roses, violets, and carnations, but that was all. 
 And it is thus that she was able to bring up her brother 
 Cadet and apprentice him, when eighteen years old, to a 
 master stevedore. 
 
 The two young people lived on the Place aux CEufs, 
 in the centre of the labouring-class quarter. Cadet was 
 now a big fellow employed at the docks ; Fine, grown 
 handsomer and having arrived at womanhood, had the 
 lively gait and careless caressing way of Marseillese women. 
 
 She was acquainted with the Cayols through having 
 sold them flowers, and she would speak to them with that 
 tender familiarity which springs from the warm air and 
 gentle language of Provence. Besides which, if all must 
 be told, Philippe had latterly so often bought her roses, 
 that she had ended by feeling a slight tremor when he 
 approached her. The young man, who was by instinct 
 an admirer of the sex, laughed with her and gazed at 
 her so intently that he made her blush, half declaring his
 
 THERE ARE MENIALS IN THE CHURCH. 15 
 
 love, the while, and all this simply not to forget the 
 ways of wooing. The poor girl, who up till then had 
 made short work of would-be lovers, fell a victim to this 
 flirtation. At night-time she dreamed of Philippe, and 
 wondered, with anguish, whatever he could do with all 
 the flowers she sold him. 
 
 When Marius approached her he found her high-coloured 
 and troubled. She was half hidden by her nosegays and 
 looked adorably fresh beneath the broad lappets of her 
 little lace cap. 
 
 " Monsieur Marius," she asked hesitatingly, " is what 
 every one is saying this morning true ? That your brother 
 has eloped with a young lady?" 
 
 "Who told you that?" asked Marius, quickly. 
 
 "Why, every one. The rumour is all over the place." 
 
 And as the young man seemed as troubled as herself, 
 and stood there without speaking, Fine added with 
 slight bitterness: 
 
 "I was told that Monsieur Philippe was a flirt. His 
 tongue was too soft for his words to be true." 
 
 She was on the point of weeping, but was forcing back her 
 tears. With painful resignation she then added more gently : 
 
 " I can see that you are in trouble. If you should need 
 me, do not fail to let me know." 
 
 Marius looked her in the face and seemed to guess the 
 agony of her heart. 
 
 "You are a brave girl!" he exclaimed. "I thank you, 
 and will perhaps avail myself of your services." 
 
 He heartily shook her hand, as he would have done 
 to a comrade, and hastened to rejoin Abbe Chastanicr 
 who was waiting for him at the edge of the pavement. 
 
 "We have no time to lose," he said. "The story is 
 spreading all over Marseilles. We must take a cab." 
 
 Night was falling when they reached Saint Barnabe. 
 They only found the gardener Ayasse's wife, who \vas 
 knitting in a low room. This woman quietly informed 
 them that the gentleman and young lady had become 
 alarmed, and had gone off on foot in the direction of 
 Aix. She added that her son had accompanied them to 
 guide them amongst the hills.
 
 1 6 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 The last hope was thus dead. Marius, completely 
 overcome, returned to Marseilles without hearing the 
 encouraging words Abbe Chastanier addressed to him. 
 He was thinking of the fatal consequences of Philippe's 
 madness; he was rebelling against the misfortunes about 
 to befall his family. 
 
 "My child," said the priest, as he left him, "I am only 
 a poor man, but dispose of me as you will. I will go 
 and pray to God for you." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW M. DE CAZALIS AVENGED HIS NIECE'S 
 DISHONOUR. 
 
 THE lovers had eloped on a Wednesday. On the follow- 
 ing Friday all Marseilles knew the story; the gossips on 
 their doorsteps embellished the adventure with many 
 dramatic details; the nobility was indignant, whilst the 
 middleclass folk had a hearty laugh. M. de Cazalis, in 
 his rage, had done everything to increase the racket and 
 turn his niece's flight into a frightful scandal. 
 
 Clear-sighted people easily accounted for his show of 
 anger. M. de Cazalis was a deputy of the opposition 
 and had been returned at Marseilles by a majority composed 
 of a few liberals, some priests, and members of the aristocracy. 
 Devoted to the cause of legitimacy, bearing one of the 
 most ancient names of Provence, bowing humbly before 
 all-powerful Mother Church, he had experienced consider- 
 able repugnance in flattering the liberals and receiving 
 their votes. In his eyes they were merely varlets, servants, 
 fit only to be whipped in the public streets. His indomitable 
 pride suffered at the thought of lowering itself to their level. 
 
 Yet he had been obliged to bow before them. The 
 liberals noised abroad the services they were rendering, 
 and for a time a pretence was made of disdaining their 
 assistance ; but when they talked of intervening in the 
 election by naming one of their own party as a candidate, 
 M. de Cazalis was forced by circumstances to bury his
 
 M. DE CAZALIS. 17 
 
 hatred in the depths of his heart, promising himself his 
 revenge on some future occasion. Then the most shameless 
 jobbery was resorted to; the clergy took the field, votes 
 were secured right and left, thanks to innumerable civilities 
 and promises, with the result that M. de Cazalis was 
 elected. 
 
 And here was Philippe Cayol, one of the leaders of 
 the liberal party fallen into his hands. At last he would 
 be able to gratify his hatred on the person of one of the 
 louts who had bargained with him for his return to the 
 Chamber. He should be made to pay for all; his relatives 
 should be ruined and plunged into despair; and as for 
 him, he should be thrown into prison, precipitated from 
 the height of his dream of love on to the straw of a 
 dungeon. 
 
 W-hat! a little nobody had dared to win the love of 
 the niece of a Cazalis ! He had led her away with him, 
 and now they were both roving along the roads, attending 
 the hedge-school of love. It was a scandal to be made 
 much of. An ordinary person would perhaps have preferred 
 to hush it up, to conceal the deplorable adventure as far 
 as possible ; but a Cazalis, deputy and millionaire, was pos- 
 sessed of sufficient influence and pride to proclaim the 
 shame of a relative abroad without a blush. 
 
 What mattered a young girl's honour! All the world 
 might know that Blanche de Cazalis had eloped with 
 Philippe Cayol, but no one should be able to say that 
 she was his wife, that she had degraded herself by marrying 
 a poor devil without a handle to his name. Pride required 
 that the child should remain dishonoured, and that her 
 dishonour should be posted on the walls of Marseilles. 
 
 M. de Cazalis had bills placarded in all the squares 
 of the city, promising ten thousand francs reward to 
 whosoever would bring him his niece and her seducer 
 bound hand and foot. When one loses a pure-bred dog 
 it is also usual to advertise for it. 
 
 Among the upper classes, the scandal spread still more 
 noisily. M. de Cazalis disseminated his r.age everywhere. 
 He availed himself of the influence of his friends, of the 
 clergy, and nobility. As guardian of Blanche who was an
 
 1 8 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 orphan, and as trustee of her fortune, he urged on the 
 authorities in their search, and drew up the indictment 
 of the accused. It might be said that he took pains to 
 procure the greatest possible publicity for the gratis show 
 about to begin. 
 
 One of the first measures he resorted to was to secure the 
 arrest of Philippe Cayol's mother. When the crown-attorney 
 presented himself she replied to all questions that she did 
 not know her son's whereabouts. Her confusion, her 
 anguish, her mother's fears, which made her hesitate, 
 were no doubt considered so many proofs of complicity. 
 She was sent to prison, more as a hostage, and possibly 
 in the hope that her son would surrender himself in order 
 to secure her release. 
 
 When Marius heard of his mother's arrest he almost 
 went mad. He knew she was in delicate health, and pic- 
 tured her, with terror, shut up in a bare and icy cold cell ; 
 she would die there, tortured by all the pangs of suffering 
 and despair. 
 
 Marius was also suspected at the outset. But his firm 
 answers, and the bail that his employer, the ship-owner 
 Martelly, offered on his behalf, saved him from imprison- 
 ment. He wanted to remain free in order to work for 
 the 'salvation of his family. 
 
 Little by little his upright mind was able to properly 
 weigh the facts. At first, he had been overwhelmed by 
 Philippe's guilt, he had seen only the irreparable wrong 
 his brother had done. And he had humbled himself, 
 desiring solely to calm Blanche's uncle and give him every 
 reparation possible. But, in face of the deputy's rigour, 
 of the scandal he was raising, the young man had a 
 revulsion of feeling. He had seen the fugitives, and knew 
 that Blanche was voluntarily accompanying Philippe, and 
 he was indignant at hearing the latter accused of abduc- 
 tion. Hard words flew around him : his brother was called 
 a scoundrel, a villain, and his mother did not come off 
 much better. In consequence, his love of truth prompted 
 him to defend the lovers, to take the part of the fugitives 
 even against the authorities. Besides which, the deputy's 
 noisy accusations sickened him. He felt that true grief
 
 M. DE CAZALIS. 19 
 
 is dumb, and that an affair in which a young girl's honour 
 is at stake should not be ventilated in public. And he 
 felt all this, not because he wished to see his brother 
 escape chastisement, but because his delicacy was wounded 
 by all this publicity given to a child's shame. Moreover, 
 he knew the meaning of the deputy's rage ; by striking 
 Philippe, he was striking far more the republican than the 
 abductor. 
 
 Marius was thus in his turn overcome with anger. He 
 was insulted through his family his mother cast into 
 prison, his brother tracked like a wild beast, his dearest 
 affections dragged in the mud they were the victims of 
 bad faith and passion. At this he held up his head 
 again. The guilt was not all on the side of the ambitious 
 lover who had eloped with a wealthy young lady, it was 
 equally the portion of him who was stirring up Marseilles, 
 and who intended using all his power to satisfy his pride. 
 Since the authorities had undertaken to punish the first, 
 Marius swore that sooner or later he would punish the 
 second, and that in the meantime he would upset his 
 plans and endeavour to counterbalance the influence his 
 wealth and birth gave him. 
 
 From this moment, Marius displayed febrile energy, 
 he devoted himself entirely to the preservation of his 
 mother and brother. Unfortunately he was unable to learn 
 what had become of Philippe. Two days after the flight, 
 he had received a letter in which the fugitive implored 
 him to send him a thousand francs to defray the expenses 
 of his journey. The letter was dated from Lambesc. 
 
 Philippe had there found a few days' hospitality in the 
 house of M. de Girousse, an old friend of the family. 
 M. dc Girousse, who was the son of a former member of 
 the parliament of Aix, was born in the midst of revolution. 
 At his first breath he had inhaled the burning atmosphere 
 of '89, and his blood had always preserved a little of the 
 revolutionary fever. He felt uncomfortable in his mansion 
 on the Cours at Aix ; in his eyes the nobility of the town 
 seemed possessed of such inordinate pride, such deplorable 
 inertness, that he judged it severely and preferred to live 
 at a distance from it. His upright mind, his love of logic.
 
 20 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 had helped him to accept the new order of things, and 
 he willingly held out his hand to the people and accom- 
 modated himself to the tendencies of modern society. At 
 one time he had thought of founding a factory, and of 
 exchanging his title of count for that of manufacturer, 
 considering that nowadays the only nobility is the nobility 
 of talent and labour. And as he preferred living alone, 
 away from his equals, he stayed the greater part of the 
 year on an estate he owned near the little town of 
 Lambesc. It was there that he had harboured the fu- 
 gitives. 
 
 Marius was overwhelmed by Philippe's request. His 
 savings did not amount to more than six hundred francs. 
 He bestirred himself, and during two days endeavoured 
 to borrow the remainder of the amount. One morning, 
 when he was beginning to despair, Fine called upon him. 
 He had confided his trouble to the young woman the day 
 before; she had been for ever on his footsteps since 
 Philippe's flight and constantly asking for news of his 
 brother, being apparently most anxious to know whether 
 the young lady was still with him. Fine laid five hundred 
 francs on a table. 
 
 "There," she said, with a blush. "You can return it 
 to me later on. It's some money I put aside to purchase 
 my brother's discharge, if he was drawn in the conscription." 
 
 Marius would not accept it. 
 
 "You're making me waste my time," resumed Fine, with 
 charming abruptness. " I must hurry back to my flow- 
 ers. But if you don't mind, I'll call here every morning 
 for news." 
 
 And she hastened away. 
 
 Marius sent the thousand francs. Then he heard nothing 
 further, but passed a whole fortnight in complete ignor- 
 ance of the march of events. He knew Philippe was 
 being relentlessly hunted down, and that was all. He 
 would not believe the grotesque or frightful stories that 
 were current with the public. He had enough with his 
 own fears, without being frightened at the gossip of the 
 town. He had never in his life before suffered so much. 
 His anxiety nearly drove him mad ; the least sound
 
 M. DE CAZALIS. 21 
 
 frightened him ; he was for ever on the alert as though 
 expecting some bad news at any moment. He heard 
 that Philippe had gone to Toulon and had almost 
 been arrested there. The fugitives, it was said, had then 
 returned to Aix. There, all trace of them was lost. Had 
 they attempted to cross the frontier ? Had they remained 
 in hiding among the hills ? No one seemed to know. 
 
 Marius was all the more anxious because he had been 
 obliged to neglect his work at the ship-owner Martelly's. 
 If he had not been fixed to his desk by duty, he would 
 have hastened to Philippe's assistance, and would have 
 personally occupied himself with his safety. But he dared 
 not leave the business where his services were required. 
 M. Martelly showed him quite a paternal sympathy. A 
 widower for several years past and living with one of his 
 sisters, who was twenty-three years of age, he treated 
 Marius like a son. On the morrow of the scandal raised 
 by M. de Cazalis, the ship-owner called the young man 
 into his private office. 
 
 "Ah! my friend," he exclaimed, "this is a very un- 
 pleasant matter. Your brother is done for. We shall 
 never be strong enough to save him from the terrible con- 
 sequences of his folly!" 
 
 M. Martelly belonged to the liberal party, and was noted 
 for the southern violence of his opinions. He had already 
 had some spars with M. de Cazalis, and therefore knew 
 his man. His strict probity, his immense fortune, placed 
 him beyond all attack ; but he possessed the haughtiness 
 of his liberalism, and took a sort of pride in never making 
 use of his power. He advised Marius to keep quiet and 
 await events ; he would render him all his assistance, once 
 the struggle was started. Marius, consumed by his fever, 
 was about to ask him for leave of absence, when Fine, 
 all in tears, appeared one morning before him. 
 
 "The gentleman has been arrested!" she exclaimed, 
 between her sobs. "They found him, with the young 
 lady, in a cottage in the Trois-bons-Dieux quarter, about 
 a league from Aix." 
 
 And, as Marius, greatly agitated, rushed downstairs to 
 make inquiries, which only too fully bore out the truth of
 
 22 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Fine's statement, she, still in tears, smiled and said in a 
 low voice : 
 
 "At any rate, the young lady is no longer with him." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BLANCHE JOURNEYS SIX LEAGUES ON FOOT, 
 AND SEES A PROCESSION PASS BY. 
 
 BLANCHE and Philippe left the gardener's house at dusk, 
 at about half-past seven o'clock. During the day, they 
 had noticed gendarmes on the road ; they were assured 
 that they would be arrested that evening, and fright drove 
 them from this their first retreat. Philippe put on a 
 peasant's blouse, whilst Blanche borrowed a workwoman's 
 dress from the gardener's wife, a red cotton gown with a 
 flowery pattern and a black apron ; she put a yellow 
 check fichu round her breast and a big coarse straw hat 
 on her head. Victor, the son of the house, a lad of 
 fifteen, accompanied them, to show them the way across 
 the fields to the Aix road. 
 
 The warm night air was full of murmurs. A hot breath 
 rose from the earth, counteracting the fresh breeze which 
 was wafted, now and again, from the Mediterranean. A 
 bright light, like the reflection of a fire, still illumined the 
 west; the rest of the sky was of a violet blue, gradually growing 
 paler in colour, while the stars appeared one by one in 
 the night, similar to the flickering lights of a distant town. 
 
 The fugitives hastened along with bowed heads, and 
 without exchanging a word. They were in a hurry to 
 find themselves amidst the solitude of the hills. So long 
 as they were crossing the outskirts of Marseilles, they met 
 a few passers-by, whom they eyed with distrust. At last 
 the open country spread out before them, and the only 
 human beings they encountered were now and again some 
 grave shepherds standing at the edge of the path, watching 
 their flocks. 
 
 And their flight continued in the gloom and the emo- 
 tional silence of the serene night. Vague sounds floated
 
 BLANCHE JOURNEYS SIX LEAGUES ON FOOT. 23 
 
 around them ; pebbles rolled beneath their feet with a 
 noise that filled them with uneasiness. The sleeping 
 country-side extended like a black mass in the monotony 
 of the darkness. Blanche, affrighted, clung to Philippe, 
 hastening her little footsteps in order to keep up with 
 him ; she heaved deep sighs as she recalled the peace- 
 fulness of her nights at home. 
 
 Then they reached the hills, with the deep ravines 
 which had to be crossed. Around Marseilles the roads 
 are soft and easy ; but out in the country one meets those 
 rocky ridges which cut up the whole centre of Provence 
 into narrow, sterile valleys. Uncultivated plains, stony 
 slopes, with here and there some sorry tufts of thyme and 
 lavender, now extended before the fugitives in all their 
 desolate mournfulncss. The paths wound up and down 
 the sides of the hills ; fallen rock now and again blocked 
 the way; beneath the bluish serenity of the heavens, one 
 could have fancied it a sea of pebbles, an ocean of stones 
 stricken with eternal immobility in the midst of a hurricane. 
 
 Victor, leading the way, softly whistled a Provencal air 
 as he jumped from rock to rock with the agility of a 
 chamois; he had grown up amid this desert and was 
 acquainted with its innermost recesses. Blanche and 
 Philippe followed him laboriously; the young man was 
 supporting the girl, whose feet were rut by the sharp stones 
 on the way. She did not complain, and whenever her 
 lover gazed inquiringly into her face in the transparent 
 darkness, she smiled to him with sad sweetness. 
 
 They had just passed Septemc, when the young girl, 
 worn out, sank to the ground. The moon slowly rising 
 in the heavens lit up her pale face bathed in tears. 
 Philippe bent over her in great distress. 
 
 "You are crying," he exclaimed, "you arc in pain, my 
 poor, darling child ! Ah ! it was cowardly of me to keep 
 you with me, was it not?" 
 
 " Do not say that, Philippe," replied Blanche. " I am 
 weeping because I am a miserable girl. Sec, I ran scarcely 
 walk. We should have done better to have fallen on our 
 knees before my uncle and have implored him with 
 clasped hands."
 
 24 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 She regained her feet with an effort, and they continued 
 their journey over the arid hills. It was far different from 
 the gay and foolish escapade of a couple of lovers ; it was 
 a dismal flight, full of anxiety, the flight of a guilty couple, 
 silent and quaking with fear. They traversed the Gardanne 
 district, struggling during five hours against the obstacles 
 of the way. At last, they decided to descend to the high 
 road leading to Aix, and there they were able to proceed 
 more freely. The dust, however, nearly blinded them. 
 
 When they reached the top of the Arc hill, they dismissed 
 Victor. Blanche had covered six leagues among the rocks, 
 on foot, in less than six hours; she sat down on a stone 
 seat at the gate of the town, and declared that she could 
 not proceed any further. Philippe, who feared to be 
 arrested if he remained at Aix, went in search of a vehicle ; 
 he came across a woman driving a light cart who agreed 
 to give him and Blanche a lift as far as Lambesc, whither 
 she was bound. 
 
 In spite of the jolting, Blanche fell into a sound sleep 
 and did not wake up until they were nearing their des- 
 tination. This sleep calmed the fever of her blood ; she 
 felt soothed and stronger. The lovers alighted from the 
 vehicle just as day was breaking, a fresh and radiant 
 dawn which filled them with hope. The terrors of the 
 night had vanished ; the fugitives had forgotten the Septeme 
 rocks, and were walking side by side in the damp grass, 
 intoxicated with their youth and love. 
 
 Not finding M. de Girousse, of whom Philippe had 
 intended asking hospitality, they went to an inn, where 
 they were at last able to enjoy a day of peace. On the 
 morrow, Philippe saw M. de Girousse who had returned. 
 He told him the whole story and asked his advice. 
 
 "The deuce!" exclaimed the old nobleman, "your 
 matter is serious. You know, my friend, you're but a 
 clodhopper ; a hundred years ago, M. de Cazalis would 
 have hanged you for daring to touch his niece; now- 
 a-days, he can only have you cast into prison. And you 
 may be sure he won't omit to do so." 
 
 "But what had I better do now?" 
 
 " What had you better do ? Why, restore the young
 
 BLANCHE JOURNEYS SIX LEAGUES ON FOOT. 25 
 
 lady to her uncle, and make for the frontier as fast as 
 you can." 
 
 "You know very well that I shall never do that." 
 
 "Very well, then just wait quietly until you're arrested. 
 I've no other advice to give you. So there ! " 
 
 Beneath a friendly abruptness, M. de Girousse hid the 
 kindest heart in the world. As Philippe, confused by the 
 curtness of his reception, was about to take his departure, 
 he called him back, and, taking his hand, continued with 
 slight bitterness : 
 
 "My duty would be to have you arrested. I belong 
 to that nobility you have just insulted. Listen, I have 
 somewhere on the other side of Lambesc a little unoccu- 
 pied house of which I will give you the key. Go and 
 hide yourselves there, but don't tell me you're going to 
 do so. If you do, I'll send the gendarmes after you." 
 
 It was thus the lovers remained nearly a week at 
 Lambesc. They lived in retirement, amid a peacefulness 
 broken at times by sudden alarms. Philippe had received 
 the thousand francs Marius had sent him. Blanche was 
 becoming quite a little housekeeper, and they ate out of 
 the same plate with delight. This new life was like a 
 dream to the young girl. At times, however, she would 
 wonder why she had gone off with Philippe ; she would 
 then experience a revulsion of feeling, and wish to return 
 to her uncle; but she never dared say so. 
 
 It was then the time of the feast of Corpus Christi. 
 One afternoon, as Blanche was looking out of the win- 
 dow, she saw a procession pass by. She knelt down and 
 joined her hands, and fancied she could see herself dressed 
 in white among the singers. Her heart was bursting. That 
 night, Philippe received an anonymous letter warning him 
 that he would be arrested on the morrow. He thought 
 he recognised M. de Giroussc's handwriting. The flight 
 \vas resumed, more difficult and painful.
 
 26 . THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE HUNT AFTER THE LOVERS. 
 
 THEN ensued a regular rout, a race without truce or 
 repose, an ever-recurring panic. Driven right and left 
 by their fright, perpetually fancying they could hear the 
 sound of horses' hoofs behind them, passing their nights 
 hurrying along the highways and their days trembling in 
 the filthy rooms of country inns, the fugitives crossed and 
 recrossed the whole of Provence, going before them and 
 retracing their footsteps, not knowing where to find an 
 unknown retreat hidden on the confines of some desert. 
 
 They left Lambesc one terribly stormy night, and went 
 in the direction of Avignon. They had hired a little cart, 
 and the wind nearly blinded their horse. Blanche was 
 shivering in her thin cotton dress. To complete their 
 wretchedness, they thought they could see from a distance, 
 at one of the gates of the town, some gendarmes examining 
 the faces of the passers-by. Thoroughly frightened, they 
 retraced their steps, and returned to Lambesc through which 
 they only passed. 
 
 Arrived at Aix, they did not dare stay there, and 
 resolved to reach the frontier at no matter what cost. 
 
 There they would procure themselves a passport, and 
 be in safety. Philippe, who knew a chemist at Toulon, 
 decided to pay a visit to that town. He expected that 
 his friend would be able to assist him in his flight. The 
 chemist, a big, merry fellow named Jourdan, received them 
 very well. He hid them in his own room and promised 
 to at once try and obtain them a passport. 
 
 Jourdan was gone out, when two gendarmes called. 
 Blanche nearly fainted away. White as a ghost and seated 
 in a corner, she was stifling her sobs. Philippe, in a 
 choking voice, asked the gendarmes what they wanted. 
 
 "Are you M. Jourdan?" one of them inquired, with a 
 roughness whichforbode nothing good. 
 
 "No," replied the young man. " M. Jourdan is out, 
 but will soon be back."
 
 .THE HUNT AFTER THE LOVERS. 2/ 
 
 "Very well," said the gendarme curtly; and he seated 
 himself heavily. 
 
 The poor lovers scarcely dared look at each other; they 
 felt fit to faint away in the presence of these men who 
 had, no doubt, come after them. Their anguish lasted a 
 good half hour. At length, Jourdan returned. He paled 
 at the sight of the gendarmes, and answered their questions 
 with the greatest confusion. 
 
 "You must come with us," said one of the men. 
 
 "What for?" he asked. "What am I accused of?" 
 
 " You are charged with having cheated at cards last 
 night in a club. You will be able to give your explanations 
 when before the magistrate." 
 
 A shudder passed through Jourdan's frame. He was 
 quite dazed, and accompanied the gendarmes with the 
 docility of a child. They went off without even perceiving 
 the terror of the lovers. Jourdan's affair made a great 
 sensation at Toulon at the time. But no one knew of 
 the painful drama which had been enacted at the chemist's, 
 the day of his arrest. 
 
 This event took all the courage out of Philippe. He 
 understood that he was not strong enough to evade the 
 police who were on his track. Besides, he had now no 
 longer any hope of obtaining a passport, and would therefore 
 be unable to cross the frontier. Moreover, he saw that 
 Blanche's strength was giving way. He therefore determined 
 to return towards Marseilles, and wait, in the neighbourhood 
 of the city, until M. de Cazalis' anger was partly appeased. 
 Like all those who have no longer any ground for hope, 
 he had at times ridiculous visions of pardon and happiness. 
 
 Philippe had a relation at Aix named Isnard, who kept 
 a draper's shop. Not knowing where to obtain hospitality, 
 the fugitives returned to Aix, to ask Isnard for the key 
 of one of his cottages. A fatality pursued them : the 
 draper was away, and they were obliged to hide them- 
 selves in an old house on the Cours Sextius, belonging to 
 a cousin of M. de Girousse's farmer. This woman would 
 not at first receive them, fearing she might be called 
 to account, later on, for her hospitality ; she only yielded 
 before Philippe's promises to procure her son's exemption
 
 28 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 from military service. The young man was no doubt in 
 a hopeful frame of mind ; he could already see himself a 
 deputy's nephew, and was disposing freely of his uncle's 
 .great influence. 
 
 That evening, Isnard came to the lovers and handed 
 them the key of a cottage he owned in the Puyricard 
 plain. He had two others, one at Tholonet and the 
 other in the district of the Trois-bons-Dieux. The keys 
 of these were hidden under certain great stones which he 
 described to them. He advised them not to remain two 
 nights running beneath the same roof, and promised to 
 do his best to put the police off their track. 
 
 They started off and took the road which passes beside 
 the hospital. Isnard's cottage was situated to the right 
 of Puyricard, between the village and the road leading to 
 Venelles. It was one of those ugly little buildings formed 
 of lime-washed stones without mortar, and enlivened by 
 -a roof of red tiles; it contained but one room, little better 
 than a dirty stable; straw refuse littered the ground and 
 .great cobwebs hung from the ceiling. They had fortunately 
 brought a rug with them. They gathered the litter into 
 a corner and spread the rug over the heap. This formed 
 their couch amid the acrid exhalations of the dampness 
 surrounding them. 
 
 On the morrow, they passed the day in a hole in a 
 dried-up watercourse called the Touloubre. Then, towards 
 evening, they gained the Venelles road, and reached 
 Tholonet by a roundabout way in order to avoid passing 
 through Aix. It was eleven o'clock when they arrived at 
 the draper's cottage situated below the Jesuit oratory. 
 
 This cottage was rather better. It had two rooms, a 
 kitchen and a parlour, which latter contained a fold-up bed- 
 stead; the walls were covered with caricatures cut out of 
 the Charivari, and strings of onions hung from the white- 
 washed beams. The lovers could almost fancy themselves 
 in a palace. 
 
 In the morning their fright returned; they climbed the 
 hill and remained till night-time in the recesses of the 
 Infernets. In those days, the precipices of Jaumegarde 
 still possessed all their sinister horror; the Zola canal had
 
 THE HUNT AFTER THE LOVERS. 29. 
 
 not then pierced the mountain, and strollers did not often 
 venture into that dismal abyss of reddish rocks. Blanche 
 and Philippe enjoyed profound peacefulness in the midst 
 of this desert; they rested long beside a clear and mur- 
 muring spring, which trickled from a gigantic mass of rock. 
 
 At night-fall returned the cruel question of shelter. 
 Blanche could now scarcely walk; her wounded feet bled 
 upon the sharp and pointed stones. Philippe understood 
 he could not take her much farther. He supported her, 
 and they slowly ascended to the level ground overlooking 
 the Infernets. It is an extensive uncultivated plain, vast 
 fields of pebbles, waste land broken up here and there 
 by disused quarries. Nothing looks so strangely wild as. 
 this broad landscape with its bare horizon dotted here 
 and there with a dark and stunted vegetation ; the rocks, 
 looking like distorted limbs, pierce above the barren earth ; 
 the plain, having the appearance of a humpback, seems 
 to have been stricken with death in the midst of the 
 convulsions of a terrible agony. 
 
 Philippe hoped to find some hole, some cavern. He 
 had the good luck to discover a shanty, one of those 
 shelters in which sportsmen hide themselves while awaiting 
 the flight of birds of passage. He did not hesitate to 
 force in the door, and seated Blanche upon a little bench 
 he felt beneath his hand. Then he went and gathered 
 a quantity of thyme; the plain is covered with this humble 
 grey plant the strong perfume of which rises from every hill of 
 Provence. He carried the thyme into the shelter, and 
 spread it in the form of a mattress over which he laid the 
 rug. The bed was ready, and the fugitives kissed each 
 other good night upon this miserable couch. 
 
 Philippe was unable to sleep, the strong smell of the 
 thyme upon which he was lying affected his bniin. He 
 dreamt in spite of his wakefulness, that M. de Cazalis had 
 received him affectionately and that he had been elected 
 deputy in his uncle's stead. Now and again he could 
 hear Blanche's mournful sighs, as she slumbered beside 
 him, agitated and feverish. The voung girl had come to 
 consider her flight some nightmare full of bitter pleasures. 
 During the day she was rendered stupid by fatigue; she
 
 30 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 smiled sadly and never complained. Her inexperience 
 had caused her to agree to the flight, and her weak 
 character prevented her proposing to return. She belonged 
 body and soul to this man who carried her along; all she 
 wished was to have to walk less, she continued to believe 
 that her uncle would consent to her marriage, when his 
 temper had cooled. 
 
 The fugitives left their bed of thyme at sunrise. Their 
 clothes were becoming terribly torn, and their shoes were 
 nearly worn out. In the coolness of the morning, amid 
 the wild perfumes of this solitude, they forgot their 
 wretchedness for a time, and declared laughingly that they 
 were frightfully hungry. So Philippe told Blanche to go back 
 to the hut and hurried off to Tholonet in search of food. 
 It took him a good half-hour. 
 
 When he returned he found the young girl in a state 
 of terror: she assured him she had seen some wolves 
 prowling about. The table was laid on a large flat stone, 
 and they were like a couple of gipsy lovers breakfasting 
 in the open air. After breakfast, they made for the centre 
 of the plain, and remained there all day. These were 
 some of their happiest hours. 
 
 But when twilight fell, fear again seized them, they 
 dreaded to pass another night amidst all that solitude. 
 The pure warm air of the hills had filled them with gentler 
 thoughts and hopes. 
 
 " You are tired, my poor child ? " asked Philippe. 
 
 " Oh ! yes," she replied. 
 
 " Listen, we must perform one more journey. Let- us 
 go as far as Isnard's cottage in the Trois-bons-Dieux 
 district, and remain there until your uncle forgives us or 
 has me arrested." 
 
 " My uncle will forgive us." 
 
 " I dare not think it. In any case I will no longer fly, 
 you have need of rest. Come, let us walk slowly." 
 
 They crossed the plain, leaving the Infernets behind 
 them, and passing the Chateau of Saint Marc, which they 
 could see on an eminence on their right. They reached 
 their destination at the end of an hour. 
 
 Isnard's cottage was on the slope of the hill which
 
 THE HUNT AFTER THE LOVERS. 31 
 
 stretches to the left of the Vauvenargues road after one 
 has passed the Repentance glen. It was a small, one- 
 storied house ; the ground door consisted of a single room, 
 containing a rickety table and three old rush-bottomed 
 chairs. A ladder led to the upper room, a kind of loft 
 almost entirely bare, and containing merely a wretched 
 mattress on a heap of hay. Isnard had considerately 
 placed a sheet at the foot of the mattress. 
 
 Philippe's intention was to go on the morrow to Aix, 
 and procure information as to M. de Cazalis' intentions 
 towards him. He felt that he would be unable to hide 
 himself any longer. He went to rest in an almost peaceful 
 frame of mind, calmed by Blanche's kind words as she 
 judged events with all a young girl's hopefulness. 
 
 It was now twenty days that the fugitives had been 
 running about the country, and during this time the 
 gendarmes had been scouring the neighbourhood, follow- 
 ing on their track, sometimes losing it, but always getting 
 set right again by some slight circumstance. 
 
 The deputy's anger had only increased with the delay; 
 his pride was irritated by each fresh obstacle. At Lam- 
 besc, the gendarmes came a few hours too late ; the 
 arrival of the fugitives at Toulon was not known until the 
 morrow of their return to Aix; everywhere they escaped 
 as though by a miracle. 
 
 The deputy ended by accusing the police of being 
 lukewarm. He was informed at last that the lovers were 
 in the neighbourhood of Aix, and that they were on the 
 point of being arrested. He hastened there to assist in 
 the search. 
 
 The woman of the (Jours Sextius, who had given them 
 hospitality for a few hours, was seized with terror. To 
 avoid being accused of complicity, she told all she knew, 
 and said that they were probably hidden in one of 
 Isnard's cottages. Isnard, who was questioned, quietly 
 denied everything. He declared that he had not seen 
 his relative for several months past. Thi.s was happening 
 at the very time Philippe and Blanche were entering the 
 cottage in the Trois-bons-Dieux district. The draper was 
 unable to warn the lovers during the night.
 
 32 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 At five o'clock the next morning a police commissary 
 called on him and informed him that he was going to 
 search his house and three cottages. 
 
 M. de Cazalis remained at Aix, saying he was 
 afraid he would kill his niece's abductor, if he ever met 
 him face to face. The officers sent to search the cottage 
 at Puyricard found the nest empty. Isnard obligingly 
 offered to lead two gendarmes to his place at Tholonet, 
 feeling certain that they would waste their time. The 
 police commissary, also accompanied by two gendarmes, 
 went to the Trois-bons-Dieux. He took a locksmith with 
 him, Isnard having vaguely stated that the key of the 
 cottage was hidden under a stone on the right of the 
 door. 
 
 It was about six o'clock when the commissary arrived 
 there. Everything was closed, and not a sound came from 
 inside. He went forward and, hammering on the door 
 with his fist, exclaimed in a loud voice : 
 
 " Open in the name of the law ! " 
 
 Echo alone answered. Nothing stirred. After waiting 
 a few minutes, the commissary turned towards the lock- 
 smith, saying : 
 
 " Pick the lock. " 
 
 The locksmith selected his tools, and the grating of the 
 iron could soon be heard in the silence. The shutter of 
 a window was then violently thrown back, and Philippe 
 Cayol, disdainful and angry, his neck and arms bare, 
 appeared in the bright light of the rising sun. 
 
 " What do you want ? " he asked, leaning on the win- 
 dow-sill. 
 
 The first blow struck by the commissary had awoke the 
 fugitives. Seated on the edge of the mattress, still half 
 asleep, they listened anxiously to the voices without. 
 
 The words " In the name of the law ! " that cry which 
 rings so terribly in the ears of the guilty, struck the young 
 man full in the chest. He jumped up, quivering, bewild- 
 ered, not knowing what to do. The young girl, huddled 
 up in the sheet, her eyes still heavy with sleep, was 
 shedding tears of shame and despair. 
 
 Philippe understood that all was over, and that he had
 
 THE HUNT AFTER THE LOVERS. 33 
 
 only to surrender himself. But a dull feeling of revolt 
 rose within him. So his dreams were dead, he would 
 never be Blanche's husband, he had carried off an heiress 
 to be himself cast into gaol : instead of the happy existence 
 he had dreamed of, he ended by gaining a prison cell. 
 Then a cowardly thought passed through his mind : it 
 occurred to him to leave the girl there and fly in the 
 direction of Vauvenargues, in the denies of Sainte-Victoire ; 
 perhaps he could escape by a window at the back of the 
 cottage. He bent over Blanche, and in a low, hesitating 
 voice told her of his project. The young girl, half stifled by 
 her sobs, did not understand nor even hear him. He saw, 
 with anguish, that she was not in a state to assist his flight. 
 
 At this moment he heard the sound of the workman 
 picking the lock. The poignant drama that had just been 
 enacted in that bare room had lasted at most a minute. 
 He felt himself lost, and his chafed pride restored his 
 courage. Had he been armed he would have defended 
 himself. But conscious that he was no abductor, Blanche 
 having accompanied him voluntarily, he felt that he had 
 nothing to be ashamed of. So he angrily pushed back 
 the shutter and asked what was wanted. 
 
 " Open the door," ordered the police commissary. " We 
 will tell you afterwards what we want." 
 
 Philippe went down and opened the door. 
 
 " Are you M. Philippe Cayol ? " resumed the commissary. 
 
 "Yes," replied the young man energetically. 
 
 " Then I arrest you on the charge of abduction. You 
 have carried off a young girl under sixteen years of age, 
 who is no doubt hidden here with you." 
 
 Philippe smiled, and said : " Mademoiselle Blanche do 
 Cazalis is upstairs, and can tell you if I used any violence 
 towards her. I don't know what you mean by talking of 
 abduction. I was about to go this very day to M. de 
 Cazalis and ask him for his niece's hand in marriage." 
 
 Blanche, pale and shivering, had just come down the 
 ladder. She had dressed herself hastily. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said the commissary, "I have orders 
 to take you to your uncle, who is awaiting you at Aix. 
 He is in great grief."
 
 34 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 "I am deeply sorry for having displeased my uncle," 
 replied Blanche with some firmness. " But you must not 
 accuse M. Cayol, whom I accompanied of my own free 
 will. " 
 
 And deeply affected, on the point of again bursting into 
 sobs, she turned towards the young man and continued : 
 
 " Have hope, Philippe. I love you and will beseech 
 my uncle to be good to us. Our separation will only last 
 a few days." 
 
 Philippe looked at her sadly and shook his head. 
 
 "You are a weak and timid child," he replied slowly. 
 Then he added in a harsher tone : " Remember, only, that 
 you belong to me. If you forsake me you will find me 
 ever in your life, the recollection of my kisses will never 
 cease scorching your lips, and that will be your punish- 
 ment. " 
 
 She was weeping. 
 
 " Love me well, as I love you," he resumed more gently. 
 
 The police commissary placed Blanche in a carriage he 
 had had brought to the spot, and took her back to Aix, 
 whilst the two gendarmes marched Philippe off and placed 
 him in the prison of the town. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 BLANCHE DENIES HER LOVE. 
 
 THE news of the arrest did not reach Marseilles until 
 the following day, and caused quite a sensation. M. de 
 Cazalis was observed driving along the Cannebiere in the 
 afternoon, accompanied by his niece. 
 
 The gossips had their fill; every one spoke of the 
 deputy's triumphant attitude, and of Blanche's shame and 
 embarrassment. M. de Cazalis was capable of dragging 
 his niece throughout Marseilles, to show the people she 
 had returned to his protection, and that no woman of 
 his race would marry beneath her. 
 
 Marius, informed by Fine, was out and about all day. 
 The common talk of the town confirmed the tidings, and
 
 BLANCHE DENIES HER LOVE. 35 
 
 he was able to pick up all the details of the arrest. In 
 a few hours the event had become legendary, and the 
 shopkeepers, the idlers and loafers related it as though 
 it had been the marvellous tale of something that had 
 happened a century before. The young man, tired of 
 hearing these cock-and-bull stories, went to his office, his 
 head aching and his brain incapable of deciding what course 
 to pursue. 
 
 Unfortunately. M. Martelly would be away until the 
 following evening, and Marius felt the need of doing some- 
 thing at once. He would have liked to have immediately 
 taken some steps that would have reassured him as to 
 his brother's fate. His first alarm had now, however, 
 partly subsided. He reflected that after all his brother 
 could not be accused of abduction, and that Blanche 
 would be there to defend him. He ended by naively 
 imagining that it was his duty to call upon M. de Cazalis 
 and ask him for his niece's hand in Philippe's name. On 
 the following morning he dressed himself in black, and was 
 going out when Fine came as usual. The poor girl turned 
 quite pale when Marius told her what he was about to do. 
 
 "Will you permit me to accompany you?" she asked, 
 in a beseeching tone of voice. " I will wait outside to 
 learn the answer of the young lady and her uncle." 
 
 She followed Marius, and when they arrived at the 
 Cours Bonaparte, the young man walked firmly to the 
 deputy's house and sent up his name. 
 
 M. de Cazalis' blind passion had now subsided. He 
 held his vengeance. He would be able to prove his 
 might by crushing one of those republicans, whom he 
 detested. Now, his sole desire was to taste the joy of 
 playing with his prey. So he ordered that M. Marius 
 Cayol should be admitted. He expected tears, earnest 
 supplications. The young man found him standing up 
 haughtily in the centre of a vast saloon. He advanced 
 towards him, and, without giving him time to speak, said, 
 calmly and politely : 
 
 ' I have the honour to ask you, sir, in the name of 
 my brother. M. Philippe Cayol, for the hand of your 
 niece, Mademoiselle Blanche de Cazalis."
 
 36 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 The deputy was thunderstruck. Harms' request seemed 
 to him so absurdly extravagant that it failed to anger 
 him. He stepped back, looking the young man straight 
 in the face, and answered with a disdainful laugh : 
 
 " You must be mad, sir. I know that you are an 
 industrious and honest fellow, and it is for that reason 
 that I do not have you put out. Your brother is a 
 scoundrel, a knave, who shall be punished as he deserves. 
 What do you want with me?" 
 
 On hearing his brother insulted, Marius felt a great 
 desire to strike the noble personage, as one of the rabble 
 would have done. He restrained himself, however, and 
 continued, in a voice that was beginning to tremble with 
 emotion : 
 
 " I have already told you, sir. I am here to offer Made- 
 moiselle de Cazalis the only reparation possible, that is 
 to say, marriage. The wrong that has been done her 
 can thus be effaced." 
 
 "We are above any wrong," exclaimed the deputy, 
 with contempt. " The shame for a Cazalis is not that 
 she has had anything to do with a Philippe Cayol. Her 
 shame would be to ally herself to such people as you." 
 
 " Such people as we, have other ideas as regards honour. 
 However, I will not dwell upon it; my duty alone prompted 
 me to offer you the reparation you refuse. Permit me 
 merely to add, that your niece would no doubt accept this 
 offer if I had the honour of making it to her in person." 
 
 "You think so?" said M. de Cazalis sarcastically. 
 
 He rang the bell and requested the servant to ask his 
 niece to come to him at once. Blanche entered, pale- 
 faced and red-eyed, looking worn-out by her too powerful 
 emotions. She shuddered on beholding Marius. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said her uncle coldly, " this gentleman 
 has asked for your hand on behalf of the scoundrel whose 
 name I will not pronounce in your presence. Tell the 
 gentleman what you told me yesterday." 
 
 Blanche reeled. She dared not look at Marius. Her 
 eyes fixed upon her uncle, her whole frame trembling, 
 she murmured in a weak and hesitating voice : 
 
 " I told you I had been carried off by force, and
 
 BLANCHE DENIES HER LOVE. 37 
 
 that I would do all in my power to secure the punishment 
 of the odious attempt made upon me." 
 
 These words were uttered like a lesson learnt beforehand. 
 Blanche denied her love. M. de Cazalis had not lost 
 his time. As soon as his niece was in his power, he 
 influenced her with all the weight of his obstinacy and 
 pride. She alone could secure his ultimate success. It 
 was necessary that she should lie and stifle her feelings, 
 that she should become a compliant and passive instrument 
 in his hands. 
 
 During four hours he kept her under the spell of his 
 sharp, cold words. He was not so foolish as to give vent 
 to his rage. He spoke with crushing haughtiness, recall- 
 ing the ancient origin of his race, displaying his wealth 
 and power. He skilfully showed her on the one hand 
 the picture of a vulgar and ridiculous marriage, and on 
 the other the noble joys of a rich and great alliance. He 
 attacked the young girl through her vanity, tired her 
 out, broke her spirit, dulled her intellect, and rendered 
 her such as he desired, tractable and inert. 
 
 Blanche emerged from this long interview, this continuous 
 martyrdom, utterly vanquished. Perhaps, beneath the sting 
 of her unc'e's overpowering words, her patrician blood had 
 at length revolted at the memory of Philippe's vulgar 
 love; perhaps her childhood's dreams were called up as 
 the deputy descanted on luxurious costumes, worldly 
 elegance, and honours of all kinds. Moreover, her head 
 was too bad, her heart too sore for her to resist that 
 terrible will. Every sentence M. de Cazalis uttered struck 
 her, crushed her, filled her with painful anxiety. She no 
 longer felt the power of having a will of her own. She 
 had loved and accompanied Philippe through weakness; 
 now she was turning against him also through weakness: 
 she was ever the same timid being. She accepted every- 
 thing and promised everything. She longed to escape 
 from the stilling weight with which her uncle's words were 
 crushing her. 
 
 On hearing her make her strange declaration, Marius 
 stood amazed and terrified. He remembered the young 
 girl's attitude when at Ayasse the gardener's, he could
 
 38 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 recall her clinging to Philippe's neck, loving and confiding. 
 
 "Ah! mademoiselle," he exclaimed bitterly, "the odious 
 attempt you speak of did not seem to fill you with such 
 abhorrence the day you beseeched me to implore your 
 uncle's pardon and consent ! Have you reflected that your 
 falsehood will cause the ruin of the man you perhaps still 
 love, and who should be your husband?" 
 
 Blanche, now erect, her lips tightly drawn together, was 
 looking vaguely in front of her. 
 
 "I do not know what you mean," she stammered. "I 
 have told no falsehood. I yielded to force. That man 
 took advantage of me, and my uncle will avenge the 
 honour of our family." 
 
 Marius drew himself up. Dignified anger increased 
 his short stature, and his feeling of justice and truth made 
 his thin face appear handsome. He looked around him 
 contemptuously, and said, slowly : 
 
 " And yet I am in the home of the Cazalis, of the 
 descendants of that illustrious family which is the glory 
 of Provence. I had no idea that falsehood dwelt in this 
 abode, I never expected to find calumny and cowardice 
 lodging here side by side. Oh ! you shall hear me to the 
 end. I intend to cast my lackey's dignity in the teeth 
 of my unworthy superiors." 
 
 Turning towards the deputy, he continued, as he pointed 
 to the trembling girl: 
 
 " That child is innocent, and I forgive her weakness. 
 But you, sir, you are a clever man, you safeguard the 
 honour of your women by making them untruthful and 
 fainthearted. Were you now to offer me the hand of 
 Mademoiselle Blanche de Cazalis for my brother, I should 
 refuse it, for I have never lied, I have never been guilty 
 of a base action, and I should blush to be allied to 
 such people as you." 
 
 M. de Cazalis bent beneath the young man's rage. At 
 the first insult he had summoned a big valet, who stood 
 at the open door. As he signed to him to put Marius 
 into the street, the latter resumed, with terrible energy : 
 
 " I swear I will shout out ' murder' if this man moves 
 a foot. Let me pass. One day, sir, I may be able to
 
 THE IRON POT AGAINST THE EARTHEN EWER. 39 
 
 fling in your face, before all the world, the truths I have 
 just told you in this room." 
 
 And he walked out slowly and firmly. He no longer 
 thought of Philippe's guilt, his brother had become in his 
 eyes a victim whom he was determined to save and avenge 
 at no matter what cost. In this upright nature, the slightest 
 untruth or injustice raised a tempest. Already, the scandal 
 stirred up by M. de Cazalis at the time of the elopement, 
 had caused him to take the fugitives' part ; now that 
 Blanche lied and the deputy resorted to calumny, he 
 longed to be all-powerful, in order to proclaim the truth 
 from the house-tops. 
 
 Fine, a prey to anxiety, was waiting for him outside. 
 
 " Well ? " asked the young woman, as soon as she caught 
 sight of him. 
 
 "Well!" he replied, "those people are miserable liars 
 and vain fools." 
 
 Fine drew a deep breath, whilst a blush spread over 
 her cheeks. 
 
 "So," she resumed, " M. Philippe is not to marry the 
 young lady? " 
 
 " The young lady," said Marius, smiling bitterly, " pretends 
 that Philippe is a scoundrel who carried her off by force. 
 My brother is lost." 
 
 Fine did not understand. She bowed her head, wonder- 
 ing how the young lady could treat her lover as a 
 scoundrel. And she thought how happy she would have 
 been had Philippe carried her off, even by force. Marius' 
 anger delighted her: the marriage would never take place. 
 
 " Your brother is lost," she murmured in a soft, wheedling 
 voice, "Oh! I will save him, or, rather, we will save him 
 together! " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE IRON POT AGAINST THE EARTHEN EWER. 
 
 WHEN* Marius told M. Martelly, that evening, of the 
 interview he had had with M. de Cazalis. the ship-owner 
 said, as he shook his head :
 
 4O THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 "I do not know what advice to give you, my friend. 
 I do not wish to drive you to despair; but you will be 
 conquered, take my word for it. Your duty is to enter 
 upon the struggle, and I will assist you to the best of my 
 ability. Yet we had better admit to each other that we 
 are weak and unarmed in the presence of an adversary 
 who has the clergy and nobility behind him. Marseilles 
 and Aix have little love for the July monarchy, and these 
 two towns are both wholly devoted to a deputy of the 
 opposition which is waging such a war against M. Thiers. 
 They will assist M. de Cazalis in his revenge; I am alluding 
 to the big-wigs, the common people would help us if they 
 were able to help anyone. The best thing would be to 
 win over some influential member of the clergy to our 
 cause. Do you know any priest who is in favour with 
 our bishop ? " 
 
 Marius replied that he only knew Abbe Chastanier, a 
 poor old man who certainly possessed no influence. 
 
 " Never mind, go and see him, " said the shipowner. 
 " The townspeople cannot be of any use to us, the nobility 
 would show us the door if we asked their assistance, so 
 there is only the Church left. That is where we must 
 apply. Begin your campaign, I shall be busy on my 
 side also. " 
 
 On the following morning Marius went to Saint- Victor, 
 where Abbe Chastanier received him with a sort of timid 
 embarrassment. 
 
 "Don't ask me to do anything," he exclaimed, at the 
 first words the young man uttered. " It is known that I 
 have already occupied myself with this affair, and I have 
 had to endure some grave reproaches. I told you before, 
 I am only a poor man, I can only pray for you. " 
 
 Marius was affected by the old man's humble attitude, 
 and was about to withdraw, when the priest detained 
 him and said in a low voice : 
 
 " Listen, there is a man here, Abbe Donadei, who 
 might be useful to you. It is said that he is on the best 
 of terms with his lordship. He is a foreign priest, an 
 Italian, I think, who has won everybody's goodwill in 
 a few months. "
 
 THE IRON POT AGAINST THE EARTHEN EWER. 4 I 
 
 He stopped speaking, hesitating, and seeming to be 
 inquiring of himself. The worthy man was thinking that 
 he was about to compromise himself terribly, but he could 
 not resist the joy of doing a kindness. 
 
 " Would you like me to take you to him ? " he asked, 
 suddenly. 
 
 Marius, who had perceived his slight hesitation, sought to 
 decline; but the old man insisted, forgetting entirely his 
 personal tranquillity, listening only to the promptings of 
 his heart. 
 
 "Come," he resumed, "Abbe Donaclei lives only a 
 short distance off, on the Boulevard de la Corderie. " 
 
 After a few minutes' walk, Abbe Chastanier stopped at a 
 little one-storeyed house, one of those close discreet dwellings 
 which have a vague air of the confessional about them. 
 
 " Here we are, " said he to Marius. 
 
 An old woman-servant opened the door, and conducted 
 them to a small apartment with dark hangings, resem- 
 bling some austere boudoir. 
 
 Abbe Donadei received them with easy grace. His 
 pale face, with delicate features, bore a slightly cunning ex- 
 pression, and did not show the least surprise. He drew some 
 chairs forward in a coaxing manner, his body half bent, 
 a slight smile about his lips, doing the honours of his 
 study like a lady does those of her drawing-room. 
 
 He wore a long black robe, loose at the waist. But 
 this severe costume covered coquettish manners ; his 
 delicate white hands appeared quite small as they issued 
 from the ample sleeves, and his clean-shaven face had a 
 soft fresh complexion beneath the curly locks of his 
 chestnut-coloured hair. He looked about thirty years 
 of age. 
 
 When he had seated himself in an arm-chair, he listened 
 with smiling gravity to what Marius had to say. He 
 made him repeat all the spicier details of Blanche's 
 elopement, and the storv seemed to interest him immensely. 
 
 Abbe Donaclei was born at Rome, and had an 
 uncle who was cardinal. One fine day, his uncle suddenly 
 packed him off to France, without anybody knowing 
 exactlv why. On his arrival, the handsome abbe found
 
 42 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 himself obliged to enter the Aix seminary as teacher of 
 living languages. Such an humble position so humiliated 
 him that he fell ill. The cardinal relented, and 
 recommended his nephew to the bishop of Marseilles. 
 His ambition satisfied, Donadei quickly recovered. He 
 joined the clergy of Saint Victor, and, as Abbe Chastanier 
 had naively said, he succeeded in winning everybody's 
 goodwill in a few months. His caressing Italian nature, 
 his soft pink face, turned him into a cherub in the eyes 
 of the demure lady devotees of the parish. He was 
 especially successful in the pulpit : his slight foreign accent 
 gave a strange charm to his sermons; and, when he spread 
 out his arms, he knew how to cause his hands to tremble 
 with an emotion which filled the eyes of his congregation 
 with tears. 
 
 Like most Italians, he was a born intriguer. He used 
 and abused his uncle's recommendation to the bishop of 
 Marseilles, and soon became a power, an occult power 
 working underground, and digging pitfalls in front of 
 those persons he desired to remove from his path. Joining 
 a religious club, then all-powerful at Marseilles, he suc- 
 ceeded in imposing his will on his colleagues, thanks to 
 his suppleness, his perpetual smile and humility, and in 
 becoming the leader of a party. Then he interested him- 
 self in every event, had a finger in every pie. It was 
 he who secured M. de Cazalis' election as deputy, and 
 he was awaiting a fitting opportunity to claim the reward 
 of his services. His plan was to work for the success of 
 wealthy people ; later on, when he had merited their 
 gratitude, he intended to make use of them in building 
 up his own fortune. 
 
 He questioned Mariiis courteously; by the attention he 
 paid him and his sympathetic manner, he seemed fully 
 disposed to assist him in his work of deliverance. The 
 young man allowed himself to be taken in by this pleasant, 
 amiable behaviour, and unburdened himself, relating his 
 plans, and owning that the clergy alone could save his 
 brother. Finally, he begged his kind offices with his 
 lordship the bishop. 
 
 Abbe Donadei rose, and said in a tone of austere raillery :
 
 THE IRON POT AGAINST THE EARTHEN EWER. 43 
 
 " My cloth, sir, forbids ray mixing myself up in this 
 deplorable and scandalous affair. The enemies of the 
 Church are only too fond of accusing the clergy of inter- 
 fering in worldly affairs. I can only beseech the Almighty 
 to pardon your brother." 
 
 Marius, in dismay, had also risen. He understood that 
 he had just been duped by Donadei. He sought, however, 
 to disguise his feelings. 
 
 "I thank you," he replied. "Prayers are indeed the 
 sweetest of alms for the unfortunate. Pray that we may 
 be granted the justice of our fellow men." 
 
 He turned towards the door, followed by Abbe Chastanier 
 with bowed head. Donadei had affected to ignore the 
 old priest When they were on the point of leaving the 
 room, the handsome abbe, recovering all his graceful 
 sprightliness, detained Marius a moment. 
 
 "You are employed at M. Martelly's, I think?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir," the young man answered, with surprise. 
 
 " He is a very honourable man. I know, however, that 
 he is not one of our friends. Nevertheless, I esteem him 
 greatly. His sister, Mademoiselle Claire, whose spiritual 
 director I have the honour of being, is one of our best 
 parishioners." 
 
 And as Marius looked at him, finding nothing to say, 
 Donadei added, with a slight blush: 
 
 "She is a charming person, most exemplarily pious." 
 
 He bowed with exquisite politeness and then gently 
 closed the door. Outside on the pavement, Abbe Chastanier 
 and Marius looked at each other, and the young man 
 could not help shrugging his shoulders. The old priest 
 was quite confused at having seen one of God's ministers 
 play a part like an actor. He turned to his companion, 
 and said, hesitatingly: 
 
 " My friend, you must not blame the Almighty if His 
 ministers are not always what they should be. The young 
 man we have just been with is only guilty of ambition 
 
 He continued a long time in this strain, finding excuses 
 for Donadei. 
 
 Marius watched him, affected by his goodness; and, in
 
 44 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 spite of himself, he compared this poor old man to the 
 powerful abbe, whose smiles were law in the diocese. 
 Then he reflected that the Church did not love all her 
 sons equally, but like most mothers spoilt the rosy-cheeked 
 ones and neglected the tender spirits who did good by 
 stealth. 
 
 The two visitors were moving off when a carriage drew 
 up at the door of the close, discreet little house, and 
 Marius beheld M. de Cazalis alight. The deputy hastily 
 entered Abbe Donadei's abode. 
 
 " Look, father ! " exclaimed the young man. " I feel 
 certain that priest's cloth will not prevent his abetting 
 M. de Cazalis in his vengeance." 
 
 He was tempted to return to that home of hypocrisy ; 
 but, calming himself, he thanked Abbe Chastanier, and 
 went off. He thought, with despair, that the last loophole 
 of safety, the one in possession of the upper clergy, was 
 closing before him. 
 
 On the morrow, M. Martelly told him the result of a 
 visit he had paid to the chief notary of Marseilles, M. 
 Douglas, a pious man who in less than eight years had 
 become quite a power through his wealthy clients and 
 his great charity. His name was loved and respected. 
 People spoke admiringly of the virtues of this upright 
 worker who led a frugal life; unlimited confidence was 
 placed in his honesty, and the activity of his intelligence. 
 
 M. Martelly had availed himself of his services when 
 investing some money. He thought that, if Douglas would 
 use his influence on Marius' behalf, the latter would secure 
 some of the clergy to his side. He called on the notary 
 and asked for his assistance. 
 
 Douglas, who appeared very much occupied, muttered 
 an evasive reply, saying that he was overwhelmed with 
 business and quite unable to struggle against M. de Cazalis. 
 
 "I did not persist," said M. Martelly to Marius, "I 
 thought I understood that your adversary had been before- 
 hand with you there. Yet I am surprised that such an 
 upright man as M. Douglas should have allowed his hands 
 to be tied. I am afraid, now, my poor friend, that the 
 game is indeed up."
 
 THE IRON POT AGAINST THE EARTHliN EWER. 45 
 
 For a whole month, Marius went about Marseilles seeking 
 to win over a few influential persons. He was everywhere 
 received coldly, with railing politeness. M. Martelly was 
 not more fortunate. The deputy had enlisted the sym- 
 pathies of the whole nobility and clergy. The middle- 
 classes, the shopkeepers, were laughing in their sleeves, 
 unwilling to move owing to their great fear of compromising 
 themselves. As for the common people, they sang songs 
 about M. de Cazalis and his niece, this being all they 
 could do on Philippe Cayol's behalf. 
 
 Days passed by, and the preparations for the trial went 
 on apace. Marius was still as much alone as on the 
 first day, in preparing his brother's defence against the 
 uncle's hatred and the niece's obedient falsehoods. There 
 was only Fine, whose angry speeches merely won over 
 the workgirls' warm sympathy to Philippe's cause. 
 
 One morning Marius learnt that the act of accusation 
 against his brother and the gardener Ayasse had been 
 drawn up, the former being accused of abduction and the 
 latter with being an accomplice in the crime. Madame 
 Cayol had been released for want of proof. 
 
 Marius hurried off to embrace his mother. The poor 
 woman had suffered greatly during her incarceration; her 
 feeble health was seriously compromised. A few days 
 after leaving the prison, she gently expired in her son's 
 arms, and he sobbing, vowed to avenge her death. 
 
 The funeral was the occasion for a popular demonstra- 
 tion. Philippe's mother was conveyed to the Saint Charles 
 cemetery followed by a long procession of women of the 
 people who did not hesitate to revile M. de Caxalis openly. 
 They were even strongly inclined, after the funeral, to 
 go and throw stones at the windows of the deputy's 
 house. 
 
 Alone in his little lodging in the Rue Sainte, Marius, 
 when all was over, felt himself deserted in the world, and 
 wept bitterly. His tears relieved him, he saw the road 
 he had to follow traced out clearlv before him. The 
 misfortunes which were overwhelming him increased, in 
 his breast, the love of truth and hatred of injustice. He 
 felt that all his life must henceforth be devoted to a
 
 46 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 holy cause. He could no longer act at Marseilles, the 
 scene of the drama having changed. Future events would 
 be occurring at Aix, where the trial was to be held. He 
 desired to be on the spot in order to follow the different 
 phases of the affair, and take advantage of any incidents 
 which might arise. He asked his employer for a month's 
 leave of absence, which the latter immediately granted. 
 The day of his departure, he found Fine waiting at the 
 coach-office. 
 
 "I am going to Aix with you," she said quietly. 
 
 "But that would be madness!" he exclaimed. "You 
 cannot afford to give your time thus. Who will attend 
 to your flowers during your absence ? " 
 
 " Oh ! one of my friends, a girl who lives on the same 
 floor as I do at the house on the Place aux CEufs. I 
 said to myself: 'I can be useful to them;' so I put on 
 my best dress, and here I am." 
 
 "I thank you very much," Marius replied simply, in an 
 agitated voice. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 M. DE GIROUSSE LETS HIS TONGUE WAG. 
 
 ON arriving at Aix, Marius went to Isnard's, in the Rue 
 d'ltalie. The draper had not been molested. No doubt, 
 such an insignificant prey was not considered worth 
 capturing. 
 
 Fine went straight to the gaoler of the prison, whose 
 niece she was by marriage. She had her plan, and 
 brought with her an enormous bunch of roses which was 
 well received. Her pretty smiles, her caressing liveliness 
 made her in a couple of hours her uncle's spoilt child. 
 He was a widower with two young daughters to whom 
 Fine at once played the part of mother. 
 
 The trial was not to take place till early in the fol- 
 lowing week. 
 
 Marius, his hands tied, no longer daring to attempt 
 anything, awaited the proceedings with anguish. At
 
 M. DE GIROUSSE LETS HIS TONGUE WAG. 47 
 
 times, he was still mad enough to hope, and to believe 
 in an acquittal. Walking one evening on the Cours, he 
 met M. de Girousse, who had come from Lambesc to 
 be present at the affair. The old nobleman took his arm, 
 and, without saying a word, led him to his house. 
 
 "There," said he, after closing the door of a large 
 drawing-room, " now we are alone, my friend. I can come 
 down from my pedestal as much as I please." 
 
 Marius smiled at the count's rough and eccentric ways. 
 
 "Well," the latter went on, "you don't ask me to help 
 you, to defend you against Cazalis ? Come, you're sensible. 
 You understand that I can do nothing against that vain 
 and obstinate nobility to which I belong. Ah! your 
 brother has done a fine thing ! " 
 
 M. de Girousse was striding about the drawing-room. He 
 pulled himself up abruptly before Marius, and said to him 
 in a loud voice : 
 
 " Listen well to what I am about to tell you. There 
 are some fifty of us in this good town, all old fellows 
 like myself, living by ourselves, buried in a past for ever 
 dead. We profess to be the cream of the cream of Pro- 
 vence, and there we stick, doing nothing but twirling our 
 thumbs. For, see you! we are noblemen, chivalrous 
 hearts, awaiting devoutly the return of their legitimate 
 princes. And, the deuce take it! we shall wait a long time, 
 so long that we shall all have died of solitude and idleness, 
 before the least legitimate prince shows himself. If we 
 were gifted with good eyes we should observe the march of 
 events. We cry out to facts: 'You shall go no farther!' and 
 yet the facts pass quietly over our bodies and crush us. 
 
 " It maddens me to see how we are shut up in an 
 obstinacy as ridiculous as it is heroic. To think that we 
 are most of us wealthy, that we might ncarlv all become 
 intelligent manufacturers, working for the prosperity of the 
 country, and that we prefer to grow mouldy in the recesses 
 of our mansions, like the rubbish of a bygone age ! " 
 
 He stopped to take breath, and then went on still more 
 energetically : 
 
 " And we take a pride in our empty existence. We 
 don't work because we disdain labour. We have a holv
 
 48 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 horror of the people because their hands are soiled. Ah ! 
 your brother dared to touch one of our daughters ! We'll 
 show him whether his blood is the same as ours. We 
 shall league ourselves together and give the rascallions a 
 lesson, we'll cure them of seeking to find favour in our 
 children's eyes. Some powerful ecclesiastics will second 
 us; they are fatally bound to our cause. It will be a 
 splendid campaign for our vanity." 
 
 After a pause, M. de Girousse resumed sarcastically: 
 " Our vanity it has at times received some nasty 
 knocks. A few years prior to my birth, a terrible tragedy 
 was enacted in the mansion adjoining this. M. d'Entre- 
 casteaux, the president of the parliament, murdered his 
 wife in her bed; he cut her throat with a razor, which 
 was not found till twenty-five days afterwards at the 
 bottom of the garden. The victim's jewels were discovered 
 down the well, where the murderer had thrown them to 
 lead the authorities to believe that robbery was the reason 
 of the murder. President d'Entrecasteaux took to flight 
 and went, I believe, to Portugal, where he died in poverty. 
 The parliament condemned him, in default, to be broken 
 alive on the wheel. 
 
 "So you see we have also our scoundrels, and that the 
 lower classes have nothing to envy us. That cowardly 
 crime, committed by one of ourselves, dealt a sad blow 
 in those days to our authority. A novelist might write 
 a heart-rending book with the materials furnished by this 
 doleful and tragic story." 
 
 Resuming his walk, M. de Girousse continued: 
 "And we also know how to humble ourselves. For 
 instance, when Fouche, the regicide, then Duke of Otranto, 
 was, somewhere about 1810, exiled for a short time to 
 our town, all the nobles dragged themselves before him. 
 
 " I remember an anecdote which will show you to what 
 abject servility we lowered ourselves. On New Year's 
 Day 1811, there was a long file of persons waiting to pay 
 their respects to the ex-member of the Convention. In 
 the reception-room there was some talk of the severity 
 of the weather, and one of the callers was expressing his 
 fears as to the fate of the olive-trees. ' What do we care
 
 M. DE GIROUSSE LETS HIS TONGUE WAG. 49 
 
 for the olive-trees ! ' exclaimed one of the noble personages, 
 'providing his Grace the Duke keeps well!' 
 
 " That's how we are nowadays, my friend, humble with 
 the mighty, haughty witli the weak. There arc no doubt 
 some exceptions, but they are rare. You must see, 
 therefore, that your brother will be convicted. Our pride, 
 which bent the knee before a Fouche, cannot do so before 
 a Cayol. That's logical. Good-night! " 
 
 And the count abruptly dismissed Marius. His own 
 words had exasperated him, and he feared that Uis anger 
 might end by making him say something foolish. 
 
 The next day, the young man met him again and 
 M. de Girousse took him home as on the previous even- 
 ing. He held in his hand a newspaper containing a list 
 of the jury who were to decide Philippe's case and struck 
 the paper forcibly with his finger, exclaiming: 
 
 "Those are the men who will condemn your brother! 
 Shall I tell you some stories about them ? They are 
 curious and instructive." 
 
 M. de Girousse seated himself, and glanced through the 
 paper, shrugging his shoulders as he did so. 
 
 "It's a packed jury," he said at last, "an assembly of 
 rich men who have every interest to serve the cause of M. dc 
 Cazalis. They arc all more or less mixed up with the clergy 
 or on intimate terms with the nobility. They are almost 
 all friends of men who spend their mornings in the 
 churches and cheat their customers the rest of the day." 
 
 Then he named them one by one, and spoke of the 
 set thev frequented with increasing indignation. 
 
 "Humbert," he said, "is the brother of a Marseilles' 
 merchant, a dealer in oil, an honest man who holds his 
 head erect and whom every poor devil salutes. Twenty 
 years ago their father was but a struggling clerk. To-dav 
 his sons are millionaires, thanks to his skilful speculations. 
 One year he sold a large quantity of oil beforehand, at 
 the market rate. A few weeks afterwards the cold destroyed 
 the olive-trees, the crop was lost, and he was a ruined 
 man if he did not deceive his customers. But he preferred 
 deceit to poverty. 
 
 " Whilst his brother-merchants were delivering the 
 
 4
 
 50 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 genuine article at a loss, our man bought up all the spoilt 
 and rancid oils he could find, and then made the promised 
 deliveries. His customers complained and grew angry, 
 but the speculator coolly replied that he was strictly keeping 
 to his agreements and that they could claim nothing 
 further of him. And the trick was played. All Marseilles, 
 which knows the story, is never tired of taking its hat off 
 to this skilful man. 
 
 " Gautier is another Marseilles merchant. He has a 
 nephew, Paul Bertrand, who swindled in style. This 
 Bertrand was in partnership with a person named Aubert, 
 living in New York, who used to send him consignments 
 of goods to be disposed of in Marseilles. They shared 
 the profits. Our man made immense sums in this busi- 
 ness, the more especially as he was careful to cheat his 
 partner at each division of profits. 
 
 " One day, a crisis broke out and losses were incurred. 
 Bertrand continued to receive the goods which the ships 
 still brought, but he refused to honour the drafts Aubert 
 drew upon him, saying that business was bad and he was 
 in difficulties. The returned bills come back again with 
 enormous expenses attached to them. Then Bertrand 
 calmly says that he won't pay, that he is not obliged to 
 be Aubert's partner for ever, and that he owes nothing. 
 There's a fresh return of the bills, fresh expenses incurred, 
 and the New York merchant, surprised and indignant, has 
 to take them up at great loss. The latter, who had to 
 plead through a power of attorney, lost the action for 
 damages he brought against Bertrand ; I was assured that 
 two thirds of his fortune, twelve hundred thousand francs, 
 were swallowed up in this catastrophe. 
 
 " Bertrand remains the most honest man in the world ; 
 he is received everywhere and belongs to several congrega- 
 tions, he is envied and honoured. 
 
 " Dutailly is a dealer in corn. Some time ago, one of 
 his sons-in-law, George Fouque, met with a misadventure 
 which caused a scandal that his friends hastened to hush 
 up. Fouque always arranged matters so that it should 
 appear that the cargoes the ships brought him had suffered 
 in transport. The insurance offices paid on the report of
 
 M. DE GIROUSSE LETS HIS TONGUE WAG. 51 
 
 an expert. But tired of continually paying, the offices ap- 
 pointed as expert an honest baker, who soon received a 
 visit from Fouque. The latter, whilst conversing on 
 indifferent matters, slipped a few gold pieces into his hand. 
 The baker dropped the coins and kicked them into the 
 middle of the room. There were several persons present, 
 yet Fouque's reputation has in no way suffered. 
 
 "Delorme lives in a town not far from Marseilles. He 
 retired from business long ago. Listen to the disgraceful 
 action his cousin Mille was guilty of. Thirty years back, 
 Mille's mother kept a draper's shop. When the old lady 
 retired, she sold her stock and goodwill to one of her 
 assistants, an active and intelligent young fellow whom 
 she almost looked upon as a son. This person, whose 
 name was Michel, quickly discharged the debt and so 
 increased his business that he felt compelled to take a 
 partner. He chose a young fellow of Marseilles named 
 Jean Martin, who had a little money, and who appeared 
 to be an honest, hard-working man. It was an assured 
 fortune that Michel offered to his partner. 
 
 "At first, everything went well. The profits increased 
 annually, and each partner put by a good round sum at 
 the end of the year. But Jean Martin, who was eager 
 for gain and dreamed of a rapid fortune, ended by 
 reflecting that he would make twice as much if he were 
 alone. The matter was a difficult one: Michel was in fact 
 his benefactor, and moreover he had a friend in the 
 landlord of the house, Madame Mille's son. If the latter 
 were honest, Jean Martin would be unable to put his 
 nefarious scheme into execution. He went to see him, 
 and found him to be the scoundrel he required. He 
 proposed to him to give him a new lease, in consideration 
 of a large sum of money; he doubled and even trebled 
 the amount. Mille, who is both a rogue and a miser, 
 sold himself for as much as possible. The bargain was 
 struck. Then Jean Martin played the hypocrite with Michel : 
 he said he desired to cancel the partnership deed and to 
 start a business elsewhere ; he even named a place he had 
 taken. Michel, surprised but not suspecting the infamous 
 trick of which he was to be the victim, said he
 
 52 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 could retire if he liked, and the deed was cancelled. 
 " Shortly afterwards Michel's lease expired, and Jean 
 Martin, armed with the new lease, triumphantly turned his 
 ex-partner out. Michel, nearly driven mad by such a 
 piece of treachery, opened a business elsewhere ; but having 
 no customers, he lost the money so painfully amassed 
 during thirty years of labour. He died paralysed, suffering 
 atrociously, shouting that Mille and Martin were scoundrels 
 and traitors, and calling on his sons to avenge him. To-day, 
 his sons are toiling and moiling to keep body and soul 
 together. Mille is connected by marriage with the best 
 families in the town, his children are wealthy, and living hand- 
 somely in an odour of piety, and possessing the esteem of all. 
 
 " There's Faivre. His mother was married twice, her 
 second husband being a man named Chabran, a ship- 
 owner and bill discounter. Pretending he had made 
 some unfortunate speculations, Chabran wrote one day 
 to his numerous creditors to the effect that he was obliged 
 to suspend payment. Some of them consented to give 
 him time, but the majority decided to proceed against 
 him. So Chabran engages two young fellows as clerks, 
 and spends a week in coaching them up in the parts he 
 wishes them to play ; then, accompanied by these youngsters, 
 now thoroughly trained, he calls on all his creditors, one 
 after the other, bewailing his sad position, and imploring 
 their pity for his two starving sons who haven't a coat 
 to their backs. The trick succeeds admirably well. All 
 the creditors forego their claims. 
 
 " The next day Chabran was at the Bourse, more sedate 
 and more insolent than ever. A broker, who had not 
 heard of the affair, asked him to discount three bills 
 accepted, as it so happened, by three of the very merchants 
 who had treated him so generously the day before. 'I 
 can have nothing to do with those kind of people,' he 
 replied, haughtily. At the present time, Chabran has 
 almost retired from business. He lives in a villa where 
 he gives sumptuous dinners on Sundays. 
 
 " As for Gerominot, the president of the club where he 
 spends his evenings is a usurer of the very worst description. 
 It is said that he has earned at the trade a snug little
 
 M. DE GIROUSSE LETS HIS TONGUE WAG. 53 
 
 million, which enabled him to marry his daughter to one 
 of the princes of finance. His name is Pertigny. But 
 since his last failure, which left him a capital of three 
 hundred thousand francs sticking to his fingers, he goes 
 by the name of Felix. This skilful rascal failed a first 
 time forty years ago, and that enabled him to purchase 
 a house. His creditors received fifteen per cent. Ten 
 years later, a second failure procured him a little place 
 in the country. That time his creditors received ten per 
 cent. Scarcely fifteen years ago he failed a third time, 
 on that occasion for three hundred thousand francs, and 
 offered a composition of five per cent. The creditors 
 having declined to accept it, he proved to them that all 
 the property was really his wife's, and he never paid them 
 a centime." 
 
 Marius, thoroughly sickened, made a movement of disgust, 
 ;is though to stop these abominable stories. 
 
 " You don't believe me, perhaps," said the terrible count. 
 " You're a simpleton, my friend. I've not yet done, and 
 you must hear me to the end." 
 
 M. de Girousse railed in a dreadful manner. His loud 
 hissing words fell like the lash of a whip upon the persons 
 whose disreputable histories he was relating. He named 
 the jurymen one after another, he searched their lives 
 and the lives of their relations, and laid bare all the 
 scandals and meannesses connected with them. There 
 was scarcely one he spared. Then he placed himself 
 vehemently before Marius, and continued bitterly: 
 
 "Were you so simple as to believe that all these mil- 
 lionaires, all these upstarts, all these powerful persons who 
 domineer over you and crush you to-dav, were little saints, 
 worthy individuals, whose lives were spotless? At Mar- 
 seilles especially, these men displav their vanity and 
 insolence; they have become devotees and hypocrites; 
 they have deceived even the worthy people who salute 
 and esteem them. In a word, they form an aristocracy 
 of their own; their past is forgotten; their wealth and 
 newly-acquired probity are alone seen. 
 
 " Well ! I'll unmask them. Listen : This one made 
 his fortune by betraying his friend; that other, by traf-
 
 54 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 ficking in human flesh ; that other, in selling his wife 
 and daughter ; that other, in speculating on the misery 
 of his creditors; that other, in buying back for a song 
 the shares of a company of which he was manager, and 
 which he had brought into disrepute ; that other, by 
 scuttling a ship loaded with stones instead of merchandise, 
 and securing a handsome sum from the underwriters; that 
 other, verbally a partner, by refusing to pay his share of 
 the losses in an unfortunate speculation; that other, by 
 concealing his assets, failing two or three times, and ulti- 
 mately living like an honest man ; that other, by selling 
 as wine a decoction of logwood or bullock's blood; that 
 other, by buying up all the corn at a time of scarcity ; 
 that other, by defrauding the customs on a large scale, 
 attempting to corrupt the officers and robbing to his 
 heart's content; that other, by forging the signatures of 
 friends or relations to bills which they do not dare to 
 dishonour at maturity, but prefer to pay rather than 
 disgrace the forger ; that other, by setting fire to his fac- 
 tory or ships previously insured far above their value ; 
 that other, by tearing up and burning his acceptances 
 snatched from his creditor's hand the day theyf ell due ; that 
 other, by speculating at the Bourse without any intention of 
 paying his differences, which does not prevent him enriching 
 himself a week afterwards at the expense of some dupe 
 
 M. de Girousse stopped for want of breath. He remained 
 silent for some time, giving his anger an opportunity of 
 dying out. Then he again opened his lips, and smiled 
 less bitterly. 
 
 " I am a bit of a misanthrope, " he said gently, to 
 Marius, who had listened to him with pain and surprise 
 " I see the dark side of everything. The fact is, the idleness 
 to which my title condemns me has enabled me to study 
 the ignominies of this country. But I must tell you there 
 are some honest folk among us. Unfortunately they either 
 dread or disdain the rascals." 
 
 Marius took his leave of M. de Girousse, quite upset 
 by the ardent words he had been listening to. He fore- 
 saw that his brother would be unmercifully condemned. 
 
 The trial was to begin on the morrow.
 
 A SCANDALOUS TRIA.L. 55 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A SCANDALOUS TRIAL. 
 
 ALL Aix was in a flutter. Scandal acquires additional 
 force in quiet little towns, where the curiosity of the gos- 
 sips has not frequently some fresh material to feed upon. 
 All the talk was of Philippe and Blanche; the lovers' 
 adventures were related at every street corner; it was 
 openly said that the accused was condemned beforehand, 
 that M. de Ca/alis had, either personally or through his 
 friends, secured a promise of conviction from each juryman. 
 
 The Aix clergy gave the deputy its assistance, though in 
 a rather lukewarm manner, it is true. It comprised in 
 those days some men who were unwilling to be parties 
 to an act of injustice. A few priests, however, submitted 
 to the influence of the religious club at Marseilles, of 
 which Abbe Donadei was, so to say, the leader. These 
 attempted in various ways to tie the hands of the magistracy. 
 They succeeded especially in persuading the jurymen of 
 the righteousness of M. de Ca/alis' cause. 
 
 The nobles rendered them powerful aid in their task. 
 They considered that their honour demanded they 
 should crush Philippe Cayol. They regarded him as 
 a personal enemy who, having dared to attack the dignity 
 of one of themselves, had by so doing insulted the whole 
 body of them. To see these counts and marquises bestir 
 themselves, give vent to their anger, and band themselves 
 together, one might have fancied that some hostile army 
 was at the gates of the town. Yet it was, after all, simplv 
 a question of securing the conviction of a poor wretch 
 guilty of love and ambition. 
 
 Philippe, however, had some friends and defenders. 
 All the lower classes declared themselves freely for him. 
 They blamed his conduct and reproved the means he had 
 employed, saying that he would have done better to have 
 loved and married a young woman in his own class of 
 life; but, whilst censuring his behaviour, thev loudlv took 
 his part against the deputy's pride and hatred.
 
 56 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 It was known throughout the town that Blanche, when 
 before the examining magistrate, had denied her love; 
 and the daughters of the people, true Prover^al women, 
 enthusiastic and courageous, spoke of her with insulting 
 contempt. They called her "renegade," ascribed the 
 most shameful motives to her conduct, and did not hesitate 
 to cry their opinions from the house-tops in the expressive 
 language of the gutter. 
 
 All this clamour compromised Philippe's cause consider- 
 ably. The whole town was in the secret of the drama 
 about to be performed. Those whose interest it was to 
 secure the prisoner's conviction, being certain of succeeding 
 did not even take the trouble to hide their proceedings; 
 those who would have liked to have saved him, conscious 
 of their weakness and unarmed condition, relieved them- 
 selves by bawling, delighted to annoy those powerful persons 
 whom they had no hope of mastering. 
 
 M. de Cazalis had shamelessly dragged his niece with 
 him to Aix. During the first days he took a sort of proud 
 delight in walking her up and down the Cours. It was 
 his way of protesting against the idea of dishonour with 
 which the crowd coupled the young girl's flight ; he seemed 
 to be proclaiming to the world at large : " You see that 
 a lout cannot damage the honour of a Cazalis. My niece 
 still looks down upon you from the height of her rank 
 and fortune." 
 
 But he was unable to continue these walks long. His 
 behaviour angered the mob, who insulted Blanche and 
 was on the point of stoning her and her uncle. The 
 women especially were furious ; they did not perceive that 
 it was not the niece's fault and that she was simply sub- 
 mitting to an iron will. She trembled before the popular 
 wrath, and lowered her eyes in order not to see those 
 women gazing at her with such fiery glances. She could 
 feel their contemptuous gesticulations behind her, hear 
 horrible words she failed ~to understand, and her legs were 
 giving way beneath her as she clung to her uncle's arm 
 in order not to fall. She returned home one day, pale and 
 trembling, and declared she would not go out again. The 
 poor child was going to become a mother.
 
 A SCANDALOUS TRIAL. 57 
 
 At last the day of the trial arrived. 
 
 The doors of the court-house were besieged from early 
 morning, the Place des Precheurs was filled with a noisy 
 gesticulating crowd, clamouring as to the probable result 
 of the trial, and discussing Philippe's guilt and M. de 
 Cazalis' and Blanche's attitude. 
 
 The court-room slowly filled. Extra rows of seats had 
 been added for the persons provided with tickets ; there 
 were so many of them that the majority had to remain 
 standing. There were the flower of the nobility, the 
 leading barristers, the high functionaries, in fact all the 
 notabilities of Aix. No prisoner had ever before had such 
 an audience. 
 
 When the doors were opened for the admission of the 
 general public, only a few persons were able to find room. 
 The remainder were compelled to wait in the passages, 
 and even on the steps of the building. And now and 
 again the crowd indulged in groaning and hooting, and 
 the noise penetrated and swelled in the court-room, and 
 disturbed its quiet majesty. 
 
 The ladies had taken possession of the gallery, and 
 there formed a compact mass of smiling and anxious 
 faces. Those in the front row fanned themselves, or leant 
 forward with their gloved hands resting on the red velvet 
 covering the rail of the balustrade. Further back, in the 
 shadow, rose serried tiers of pink faces, their bodies 
 scarcely discernible amid the mass of laces, ribbons, and 
 studs. And silvery laughter, whispered words, shrill little 
 cries, fell from this rosy, gossiping crowd. The ladies 
 fancied themselves at a theatre. 
 
 When Philippe Cavol WHS brought in, there ensued a 
 great silence. The ladies devoured him with their eyes; 
 some even examined him from top to toe witli their 
 opera-glasses. The big fellow with his energetic features 
 was quite a success. The women, having come to judge 
 of Blanche's taste, no doubt considered the young person 
 less to blame, when thev beheld her lover's lofty stature 
 and clear penetrating eves. 
 
 Philippe's attitude was calm and dignified. He was 
 dressed entirely in black, and seemed to ignore the pre-
 
 58 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 sence of the two gendarmes beside him, rising up and 
 reseating himself with all the grace of a man of the world. 
 Now and again, he calmly surveyed the crowd, without 
 the least effrontery. He gazed several times up at the 
 gallery; and on each occasion he smiled in spite of himself, 
 so great was his wish to love and please even there. 
 
 The indictment was read and was overwhelming for the 
 accused. In the depositions of M. de Cazalis and his niece 
 the incidents were distorted in a skilful and terrible man- 
 ner. It was stated that Philippe had perverted Blanche's 
 mind by the aid of bad books: the truth being that he 
 had lent her two utterly puerile works by Madame de 
 Genlis. The indictment further said on the strength of 
 Blanche's version of the story, that she had been carried 
 away by force, that she had clung to an almond-tree, 
 and that during the flight the abductor had resorted to 
 violence to oblige his victim to follow him. The gravest 
 allegation was founded on one of Blanche's depositions : 
 she pretended she had never written Philippe any 
 letters and that the two produced by him were ante- 
 dated ones which he had made her write at Lambesc, 
 by way of precaution. 
 
 When the reading of the indictment was finished, the 
 place became filled with the noisy murmur of innu- 
 merable private conversations. Each spectator, before 
 coming to the court-house, had his own version, and now 
 was discussing in a low voice the official one. Outside, the 
 mob was howling. The presiding judge threatened to have 
 the hall cleared, and silence was gradually restored. 
 
 Philippe's examination was then proceeded with. When 
 the presiding judge had asked the usual preliminary ques- 
 tions and had repeated to him the particulars of the 
 indictment drawn up against him, the young man, without 
 refuting them, exclaimed in a clear voice: 
 
 " I am accused of having been carried off by a young 
 girl!" 
 
 These words caused a general laugh. The ladies hid 
 themselves behind their fans to give full vent to their 
 feelings. Philippe's words, foolish and absurd as they 
 seemed, contained nevertheless a great deal of truth.
 
 A SCANDALOUS TRIAL. 59 
 
 The presiding judge sensibly observed that no one had 
 ever known a man of thirty to be carried off by a girl 
 of sixteen, to which Philippe quietly replied : 
 
 " Neither has anyone ever seen a girl of sixteen 
 wandering along the highways, passing through towns, 
 meeting hundreds of people, without appealing to the first 
 person she encountered to deliver her from her abductor, 
 her gaoler." 
 
 And he endeavoured to show the material impossibility of 
 the acts of violence and intimidation of which he was 
 accused. At every hour of the day, Blanche had been 
 free to leave him, to procure aid and succour; if she had 
 accompanied him, it was because she loved him and had 
 consented to the flight. In addition to this, Philippe 
 expressed the greatest affection for the young girl, and 
 the greatest deference for M. de Cazalis. He admitted 
 his errors, and merely asked not to be branded as an 
 infamous abductor. 
 
 The trial was adjourned to the morrow for the hearing 
 of the witnesses. That night the town was in an uproar; 
 the ladies spoke of Philippe with affected indignation, 
 serious men referred to him more or less severely, while 
 the lower classes energetically took his part. 
 
 On the morrow, the crowd outside the court-house 
 was, if anything, larger and noisier than on the previous 
 day. The witnesses were nearly all for the prosecution. 
 M. de Girousse had not been summoned ; his rough 
 frankness was dreaded ; and, moreover, he should rather 
 have been arrested as an accomplice. Marius had begged 
 him not to compromise himself in the affair ; he also 
 feared the old count's violence, which might spoil everything. 
 
 There was scarcely more than the evidence of one 
 witness in Philippe's favour, that of the inn-keeper at 
 Lambesc, who declared that Blanche was accompanying 
 her lover of her own free will. 
 
 This evidence was, however, effaced, so to say, by the 
 depositions of the other witnesses. Marguerite, the milk- 
 woman, stammered and said she no longer remembered 
 having brought the accused any letters from Mademoiselle 
 de Cazalis. It was thus that each witness served the
 
 60 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 deputy's interest, either through fear, or stupidity and loss 
 of memory. 
 
 The pleadings commenced and went into the third day. 
 
 Philippe's counsel defended him with dignified simplicity. 
 He did not seek to excuse what was reprehensible in his 
 conduct; he described him as being an ardent, ambitious 
 man led astray by dreams of love and wealth. But at the 
 same time, he showed that the accused could not be con- 
 victed of abduction, and that the affair itself negatived all 
 idea of violence and intimidation. 
 
 The crown attorney's speech was most vindictive. It 
 was expected that it would have been milder, and his ener- 
 getic accusations produced a disastrous effect. 
 
 The jury brought in a verdict of guilty, and Philippe 
 Cayol was condemned to five years' imprisonment and to 
 be exhibited in the pillory on one of the public squares 
 of Marseilles. 
 
 The gardener Ayasse was only condemned to a few 
 months' imprisonment. 
 
 The sentences were received with murmurs in the court- 
 room, whilst outside the crowd howled with rage. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 HOW BLANCHE AND FINE FIND THEMSELVES FACE 
 TO FACE. 
 
 WHEN sentence was passed on Philippe, Blanche was 
 present, hidden at the back of the gallery. 
 
 She was there by order of her uncle, who had wished 
 to completely stamp out her affection, by showing her her 
 lover standing between two gendarmes, like a thief. An 
 elderly lady relative had consented to accompany her to 
 this edifying scene. 
 
 As the two ladies were awaiting their carriage on the 
 steps of the court-house, the crowd, pushing forward, sud- 
 denly separated them. Blanche, who was dragged to the 
 centre of the Place des Precheurs, was recognised by the 
 market-women, who began hooting and insulting her.
 
 BLANCHE AND FINE FACE TO FACE. 6 I 
 
 "That's her, that's her!" shouted the women, "the 
 Renegade, the Renegade ! " 
 
 The poor bewildered child, not knowing where to fly 
 to, was half dead with shame and fright, when a young 
 girl energetically divided the howling mob that surrounded 
 her and placed herself at her side. 
 
 It was Fine. 
 
 The flower-girl had also been to hear sentence passed 
 on Philippe. For the space of nearly three hours she 
 had passed through all the anguish of hope and fear; the 
 crown attorney's speech had been crushing, and on hearing 
 the judgment she had begun to weep. 
 
 She had just quitted the court-house, irritated and in 
 a terrible state of excitement, when the hooting of the 
 market-women reached her. She understood that Blanche 
 was there and that she would be able to avenge herself 
 by abusing her; she dashed forward with clenched fists, 
 and an insult ready on her lip. According to her, the 
 young girl was the great culprit: she had lied, she had 
 been guilty of perjury and cowardice. At this thought 
 all Fine's plebeian blood rushed to her face and urged 
 her on to shout and strike. 
 
 She rushed forward and separated the crowd to take 
 her share of vengeance. 
 
 But, when she was face to face with Blanche, when 
 she saw her doubled in two by fright, she had pity for 
 the weak and trembling child. She found her so small, 
 so captivating, so delicately fragile, that a generous thought 
 of pardon came from her heart. She violent! v pushed 
 back the women who were shaking their fists at the young 
 lady, and, stretching herself to her full height, exclaimed 
 in a loud voice: 
 
 "And what now? Aren't you ashamed? She is alone 
 and you arc a hundred against her. The Almighty doesn't 
 require your shouts to punish her. Let us pass." 
 
 She had taken Blanche's hand, and stood erect before 
 the murmuring people, who drew closer together so as 
 not to allow the two young girls to get through them. 
 Fine awaited with pale and trembling lips. And, as she 
 encouraged the little lady with a glance, she perceived that
 
 62 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 she would soon be a mother. She turned quite pale and 
 advanced towards the women. 
 
 " Let me pass," she continued, with greater violence. 
 "Do you not see the poor girl's condition, and that you 
 will kill her child ? " 
 
 She thrust back an old hag who was protesting, and all 
 the others gave way. 
 
 Fine's words had suddenly made them silent and 
 compassionate. Both girls were then able to retire. 
 
 Blanche, crimson with shame, nestled in fear against 
 her companion and feverishly hastened her footsteps. 
 
 In order to avoid the Rue du Pont Moreau, which was 
 then swarming with people and full of noise, the flower- 
 girl took the little Rue St. John. On reaching the Cours, 
 she conducted Mademoiselle de Cazalis to her residence, 
 the door of which was open. She had not uttered a 
 single word all the way. 
 
 Blanche obliged her to enter the hall, and there, half 
 closing the door, she said to her in an affected tone of voice : 
 
 " Oh ! Mademoiselle, how grateful I am to you for 
 your assistance. Those wicked women would have 
 killed me." 
 
 "Don't thank me," answered Fine sharply, "I went 
 there, like the others, to insult and beat you. " 
 
 " You ! " 
 
 "Yes, I hate you, I wish you had died in your cradle." 
 
 Blanche looked at the flower-girl with astonishment. 
 She had drawn herself up, her aristocratic instincts were 
 getting the better of her, and her lips were curling slightly 
 with disdain. 
 
 The two young girls were facing each other, one in 
 all her slim gracefulness, the other in all her energetic 
 beauty. They contemplated each other in silence, feeling 
 the rivalry of their race and heart thundering within 
 them. 
 
 "You are beautiful and wealthy," continued Fine bit- 
 terly. " Why did you come and rob me of my sweetheart, 
 when later on you could only feel contempt and anger 
 for him ? You should have sought out someone in your 
 own sphere; you would have found a youth as pale and
 
 BLANCHE AND FIXE FACE TO FACE. 63 
 
 cowardly as yourself who would have satisfied your little 
 girlish feeling of love. Look here, do not take our men, 
 or if you do we will tear your pink faces." 
 
 " I do not understand, " stammered Blanche, who was 
 becoming afraid again. 
 
 " You don't understand ? Listen : 1 was in love with 
 Philippe. He came and bought roses of me of a morn- 
 ing and my heart used to beat fit to break, when I 
 handed him my nosegays. I now know where those 
 flowers went to. One day they told me he had run away 
 with you. I wept, then I thought that you would love 
 him fondly and he would be happy. And now you have 
 had him put in prison. Look here, do not let us speak 
 of that, or I shall get angry and beat you. " 
 
 She stopped palpitating, then continued, approaching 
 nearer to Blanche and burning her icy cold cheeks with 
 her hot breath : 
 
 "You don't know then how we love, we poor girls? 
 We love with all our body, with ail our courage. When 
 we run away with a man, we don't say afterwards that 
 he took advantage of our weakness. We clasp him in 
 our arms with all our might to defend him. Ah ! if 
 Philippe had loved me! But I am an unhappy girl, a 
 poor creature, an ugly 
 
 And Fine began to sob and show herself as weak as 
 Mademoiselle de Cazalis. The latter took her hand, and 
 in a voice broken with tears answered : 
 
 "For pity's sake do not accuse me. Will you be my 
 friend? Shall I lay my heart bare to you? I suffer so 
 much, if you only knew ! I can do nothing. I obey my 
 uncle, who subdues me in his grip of iron. 1 am a coward, 
 I know it; but I have not the strength to be otherwise. 
 And I love Philippe, the memory of him is aKyays within 
 me. He told me it would be: that my punishment, if 
 ever I betrayed him, would be to love him cternallv, to 
 keep him without end in my breast. lie is there, he is 
 burning me, he will kill me. A short time ago, when 
 they sentenced him, I felt something within me that made 
 me start, and which tore my inside. I weep, look, I ask 
 your pardon. "
 
 64 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 All Fine's anger had gone. She was supporting Blanche, 
 who was staggering. 
 
 " You are right," continued the poor child, " I do not 
 deserve pity. I have dealt a blow at the one I love and 
 who will never love me more. Ah! for mercy's sake, if 
 he one day become your husband, speak to him of my 
 tears, ask him to forgive me. What drives me mad is 
 that I cannot tell him I worship him : he would laugh, 
 he would not understand all my cowardice. No, do not 
 speak to him of me. Let him forget me : I shall be alone 
 to weep." 
 
 There was a painful silence. 
 
 " And your child ? " asked Fine. 
 
 "My child," said Blanche bewildered, "I don't know. 
 My uncle will take it away from me." 
 
 " Shall I act as a mother to it ? " 
 
 The flower-girl uttered these words in a tender and 
 grave voice. Mademoiselle clasped her in her arms in a 
 passionate embrace. 
 
 "Oh! you are good," she said. "You know how to 
 love. Try to see me at Marseilles when the hour arrives, 
 I will trust in you." 
 
 At this moment, the elderly relative returned, after 
 having sought in vain for Blanche in the crowd. Fine 
 promptly withdrew and reascended the Cours. As she 
 reached the Place des Carmelites, she perceived Marius 
 from afar conversing with Philippe's lawyer. 
 
 The young man was in despair. He would never have 
 believed that they could pass such a severe sentence on 
 his brother. The five years' imprisonment terrified him; 
 but he was perhaps still more painfully overcome at the 
 thought of the public exhibition on a square at Marseilles. 
 He recognised the deputy's hand in this punishment. 
 
 M. de Cazalis had above all wished to deprive Philippe 
 of the power of pleasing, to render him for ever unworthy 
 of woman's love. 
 
 The crowd surrounding Marius were clamouring about 
 injustice, the public with one voice protesting against the 
 enormity of the punishment, and while the young man 
 was engaged in a heated discussion with the lawyer, losing
 
 A GAOLER'S HEART is NOT ALWAYS OF STONE. 65 
 
 his temper and showing symptoms of despair, he felt a 
 soft hand on his arm. He turned sharply round and 
 perceived Fine at his side, calm and smiling. 
 
 " Hope, and follow me," she said to him in an undertone. 
 "Your brother is saved." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHICH SHOWS THAT A GAOLER'S HEART IS NOT 
 ALWAYS MADE OF STONE. 
 
 WHILE Marius was running over the town before the 
 trial to no purpose, Fine had been labouring on her side 
 at the work of deliverance. She had engaged in a regular 
 campaign against the conscience of her uncle, the gaoler 
 Revcrtegat. 
 
 She had taken up her quarters with him, and passed 
 her days at the prison. She did her best from morning to 
 night to make herself useful, to be beloved by her uncle, 
 who lived alone like a growling bear, with his two young 
 daughters. She attacked him in his paternal love, she was 
 full of charming ways with the children, and spent all 
 her savings in toys, sweets, and small articles of dress. 
 
 The little ones were not in the habit of being spoiled. 
 They showed riotous tenderness for their big cousin, who 
 danced them on her knees and distributed such nice, 
 beautiful things amongst them. The father felt affected 
 and thanked Fine effusively. 
 
 He experienced the young girl's penetrating influence in 
 spite of himself, and was ill-tempered when he had to 
 leave her. She seemed to have brought the sweet perfume 
 of her roses and violets with her. The lodge smelt nice 
 since she was there, merry and light of foot; her bright 
 petticoats appeared to bring light, air, and gaiety. All was 
 smiling, now, in the dark room, and Revertegat remarked, 
 with a broad grin, that spring had taken up its abode with him . 
 
 The worthy man forgot himself in the caressing efflu- 
 via of this spring; his heart softened and he lost the 
 harshness and severitv of his calling.
 
 66 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Fine was too smart a girl not to play her part with 
 fondling prudence. She did not hasten events, she 
 brought the gaoler little by little to feelings of compas- 
 sion and kindness. Then she pitied Philippe before him, 
 and obliged him to acknowledge that they were detaining 
 him unjustly in prison. 
 
 When she held her uncle in her power, off his guard 
 and disposed to be obedient to her wishes, she asked 
 him if she could not visit the poor young man's cell. He 
 dared not say no, but conducted her there, allowed her 
 to enter, and remained watching at the door. 
 
 Fine stood before Philippe like a silly thing. She 
 gazed at him, confused and blushing, forgetting what she 
 wanted to say to him. The young man recognised her, 
 and hastened towards her with a movement full of ten- 
 derness and delight. 
 
 "You here, my dear child?" he exclaimed. "Ah! how 
 kind of you to have come to see me. Will you allow me 
 to kiss your hand ? " 
 
 Philippe assuredly imagined himself in his little apart- 
 ment in the Rue Sainte, and he was not perhaps far from 
 dreaming of a fresh adventure. The flower-girl, surprised, 
 almost wounded, withdrew her hand and gravely contem- 
 plated Blanche's lover. 
 
 "You must be mad, Monsieur Philippe," she answered. 
 " You know very well that you are married now, for me. 
 Let us speak of serious things." 
 
 She lowered her voice and continued rapidly: 
 
 " The gaoler is my uncle, and I have been working at 
 your deliverance for the past week. I wanted to see you to 
 tell you that your friends have not forgotten you. So hope." 
 
 Philippe, on hearing this good news, regretted his amo- 
 rous welcome. 
 
 " Give me your hand, " he said, in an unsteady voice, 
 "It is a friend who asks you for it, to clasp it as an old 
 comrade. Do you forgive me?" 
 
 The flower-girl smiled without answering. 
 
 "I think," she resumed, "that I shall soon be able to 
 throw the gate wide open to you. On what day would 
 you like to run away ? "
 
 A GAOLER'S HEART is NOT ALWAYS OF STONE. 67 
 
 "Run away! But I shall be acquitted. What is the 
 use of running away ? If I were to escape I should be 
 acknowledging my guilt." 
 
 Fine had not thought of this reasoning. To her mind 
 Philippe was condemned beforehand; but, as a matter 
 of fact, he was right, he must await the judgment. As 
 she preserved silence, pensive and irresolute, Revertegat 
 gave two gentle knocks at the door to beg her to leave 
 the cell. 
 
 " Well ! " she resumed, addressing the prisoner, " be 
 ready all the same. If you are condemned, we will pre- 
 pare your flight, your brother and me. Have faith." 
 
 She withdrew, leaving Philippe almost in love. She 
 had now time before her to win over her uncle. She 
 continued the same tactics, bewitching the worthy man 
 with her goodness of heart and gracefulness, and exciting his 
 pity on his prisoner's lot. In the end she even drew 
 her two little cousins into the conspiracy, and they at a 
 word would have left their father to follow her. 
 
 One evening, after having softened Revertegat's heart by 
 all the cajoling she was capable of, she ended by boldly 
 asking him for Philippe's liberty. 
 
 "Of course, " exclaimed the gaoler, " if it only de- 
 pended on me, I would open the door to him immedi- 
 ately." 
 
 " But it does only depend on you, uncle, " Fine inno- 
 cently answered. 
 
 "Ah! so you think. But the next morning they would 
 turn me adrift and send me starving with my two 
 daughters." 
 
 These words made the flower-girl look quite serious. 
 
 " But," she resumed, after a moment, " if I gave you 
 money ! Supposing I loved this youth ? supposing I were 
 to implore you with joined hands, to give him back to 
 me? " 
 
 " You, you ! " exclaimed the astonished gaoler. 
 He had risen, he gazed at his niece to see if she were 
 not laughing at him. When he observed her grave and 
 troubled manner he bent forward, vanquished, softened, 
 consenting by a sign.
 
 68 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 "Faith," he added, "I'll do what you like. You are 
 too good and pretty a girl for me to refuse." 
 
 Fine kissed him and spoke of something else. Henceforward 
 she was sure of victory. On several occasions she returned 
 to the conversation, accustoming Revertegat to the idea 
 that he would allow Philippe to escape. She did not wish 
 to throw her relative into poverty, and she offered him a 
 first reward of fifteen thousand francs. This offer dazzled 
 the gaoler, who from that moment belonged to her body 
 and soul. 
 
 And that is how Fine had been able to say to Marius 
 with her clever smile. "Follow me. Your brother is saved." 
 
 She accompanied the young man to the prison. On 
 the road she related to him all she had been doing, how 
 she had little by little won over her uncle. Marius' straight- 
 forward nature set him first of all against the plan. Then 
 he remembered the intrigues to which M. de Cazalis had 
 had recourse and reflected that, after all, he was only 
 making use of the same weapons as his adversaries, and 
 his mind was at ease. 
 
 He thanked Fine most touchingly, and was at a loss 
 to know what proof to give her of his gratitude. The 
 young girl, happy beyond measure, hardly listened to his 
 protestations of devotedness. 
 
 They could only see Revertegat in the evening. The 
 gaoler from the very first words of the conversation, pointed 
 out his two little girls who were playing in a corner of 
 the lodge, and simply said to Marius: 
 
 " Monsieur, they are my excuse : I would not ask a 
 sou, if I had not these children to feed." 
 
 This was a painful scene for Marius. He abridged 
 it as much as possible. He was aware that the gaoler 
 was giving way both to self-sacrifice and interest, and if 
 he could rrot despise him, he none the less felt ill at 
 ease at concluding such a bargain with him. 
 
 All was settled in a few minutes. Marius announced 
 that he would leave the following morning for Marseilles 
 and would bring back with him the fifteen thousand francs 
 promised by Fine. He would get them from his banker: 
 his mother had left a sum of fifty thousand francs, which
 
 A BANKRUPTCY, AS THERE ARE MANY. 69 
 
 was deposited with M. Berard, whose house was one of 
 the most important and best known of the city. The 
 flower-girl was to remain at Aix and there await the young 
 man's return. 
 
 He set out full of hope, with the idea that his brother 
 was already free, but as he stepped out of the diligence at 
 Marseilles he learned a terrible piece of news, which com- 
 pletely staggered him. The banker Berard had just been 
 made a bankrupt. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A BANKRUPTCY, AS THERE ARE MANY. 
 
 MARIUS hastened to the banker Berard. He could not 
 believe the bad news, he possessed all the confidence of a 
 straightforward mind. On the road he said to himself 
 that the rumours that were afloat were perhaps, after all, 
 only calumnies, and so he clung to false hopes. The 
 loss of his fortune at this moment amounted to his brother's 
 discomfiture. It seemed to him that chance would not 
 be so cruel the public must be mistaken, Berard would 
 hand him his money. 
 
 When he entered the banking-house, he was seized 
 with a pang of anguish. He saw the terrible reality. 
 The offices were empty ; and these spacious rooms, de- 
 serted and calm, with their closed wirework cages, appeared 
 to him funeral like. 
 
 It is difficult to conceive what mournful desolation a for- 
 tune that is breaking up leaves behind it. From the coun- 
 ing-house, ledgers, papers, escaped a vague odour of 
 ruin. Seals were to be seen everywhere with their white 
 bands and large blotches of red wax. 
 
 Marius crossed three rooms without meeting anyone. 
 He at length discovered a clerk who had come to remove 
 a few objects belonging to him from a desk, and who 
 answered him sharply that M. Berard was in his office. 
 
 The young man entered all of a tremble, forgetting to 
 close the door. He perceived the banker quietly at work,
 
 70 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 writing letters, setting papers in order and balancing ac- 
 counts. He was young, tall, had a handsome and intelli- 
 gent face, was dressed with great care, wore rings on his 
 fingers, and presented the appearance of a gallant and 
 wealthy man. One would have said he had just had a 
 brush-up to receive his customers and explain his disaster 
 to them himself. 
 
 Moreover his attitude appeared courageous. This man 
 was either a victim of circumstances, full of resignation, 
 or else an arrant rascal brazening out his infamy. 
 
 On seeing Marius enter, he looked him in the face, and 
 his countenance wore an expression of sad straightfor- 
 wardness. 
 
 " I was awaiting you, dear sir," he said, in an unsteady 
 voice. "You see I am waiting for all those whose ruin 
 I have brought about. I shall have courage to the end, 
 I want each of them to assure himself that I have no 
 cause to be ashamed." 
 
 He took up a register from his writing-table and opened 
 it with some affectation. 
 
 " Here are my accounts," he continued. " My liabilities 
 are a million, my assets one million five hundred thousand 
 francs. The Court will adjudicate and I believe my creditors 
 will lose nothing. I am the first to suffer, I have lost my 
 fortune and credit, I have allowed insolvent debtors to 
 rob me in a most bare-faced way." 
 
 Marius had not yet uttered a word. In face of Berard's 
 broken-down serenity, in presence of this display of 
 austere grief he could not find a single reproach, not one 
 word of indignation. He almost pitied this man who was 
 heading the storm. 
 
 "Sir," he said to him at last, "why did you not warn 
 me when you saw your affairs getting into a mess and 
 turning to the bad ? My mother was a friend of your 
 mother's. In remembrance of our former intimacy, you 
 should have made me withdraw this money, which you 
 were about to compromise, from your control. Your 
 present ruin strips me of everything, and plunges me in 
 despair." 
 
 Berard ran forward and grasped Marius' hands.
 
 A BANKRUPTCY, AS THERE ARE MANY. 7 I 
 
 " Do not say that ! " he exclaimed, in a voice broken 
 by tears, " do not overwhelm me. Ah ! you have no idea 
 of the regret that is tormenting me. When I saw the 
 abyss I sought to catch hold of the branches ; I struggled 
 till the last moment, hoping to be able to save the amounts 
 deposited in my hands. You cannot imagine what terrible 
 risks are run by those who deal in money." 
 
 Marius had nothing to answer. What could he say to 
 a man who found his excuse in self-accusation ? He had 
 no proofs, he did not dare call Berard a scamp., it only 
 remained to him to withdraw. The banker spoke in such 
 an aggrieved tone of voice, in such a convinced and 
 straightforward manner that he hastened to go away and 
 leave him to himself. He felt oppressed at his misfortune. 
 
 As he was crossing the empty offices again, the clerk 
 who had at last gathered his things together, took his 
 bundle and hat and followed him. This clerk was muttering 
 between his teeth. At each step he looked in a strange 
 way at Marius and shrugged his shoulders. Below, on 
 the pavement, he suddenly approached him. 
 
 " Well ! " said he, "what think you of M. Berard ? He's 
 a splendid actor, isn't he ? The door of his office was 
 open and it made me laugh to sec his distressed manner. 
 He almost wept, the honest fellow! Permit me to tell 
 you that you have just allowed yourself to be duped in 
 the most beautiful way." 
 
 "I don't understand you," answered Marius. 
 
 " So much the better. That is because you are an 
 honest man. For my part, I have just left this shop with 
 profound satisfaction. I long since expected a stroke of 
 business like this: I foresaw the issue of this high comedy 
 of theft. I possess a peculiar knack for ferreting out 
 jobbery in a firm." 
 
 " Explain yourself." 
 
 "Oh! the story is simple. I'll relate it to you in a 
 few words. Ten years ago Berard started a banking busi- 
 ness. At the present day I have no doubt that he pre- 
 pared his bankruptcy from the first moment. This was his 
 reasoning: 'I wish to be rich because I have many de- 
 sires, and to be so as rapidly as possible, because I am
 
 72 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 in a hurry to satisfy them. But the straight road is 
 rough and long, I prefer to follow the paths of cheating 
 and get my million together in ten years. I will make 
 myself a banker, I shall have a counting-house where I 
 will take the people's money as a bird-catcher snares 
 the feathered songsters. Each year I will pilfer a 
 round sum. That will last as long as is necessary, I will 
 stop when my pockets are full. Then I shall quietly 
 suspend payment; on two millions that will have been 
 entrusted to me, I will generously return two or three 
 hundred thousand francs to my creditors. The remain- 
 der, hidden away in a little corner I know of, will assist 
 me to live as I desire, as an idler and a voluptuary.' Do 
 you understand, dear sir ? " 
 
 Marius had listened to the clerk with stupefaction. 
 
 "But," he exclaimed at last, "what you are telling me 
 is impossible. Berard has just confided to me that his 
 liabilities amount to a million, and his assets to a million 
 and a half. We shall all be paid in full." 
 
 The clerk held his sides with laughter. 
 
 " Ah ! Goodness, gracious ! How simple you are ! " he 
 continued. " Do you really believe in these assets of a 
 million and a half? First of all, they will deduct Madame 
 Berard's marriage-portion from the amount. Now, Ma- 
 dame Berard brought her husband fifty thousand francs, 
 which he, in the marriage contract, transformed into the 
 handsome sum of five hundred thousand francs. That, 
 as you see, was a little robbery of four hundred and fifty 
 thousand francs. There remains a million, and that 
 million is almost entirely represented by suspicious book 
 debts. Oh! the proceeding is simple enough. There are 
 persons at Marseilles who sell their signatures for a hun- 
 dred sou piece; and they live very well at this easy and 
 lucrative business. Berard had got men of straw to sign 
 him numbers of acceptances, and he pocketed the money 
 which he now pretends he lent to insolvent debtors. If 
 they give you ten per cent, on your claim, you may es- 
 teem yourself lucky; and you will only receive that in 
 eighteen months or two years when the assignees of the 
 bankruptcy have concluded their work."
 
 A BANKRUPTCY, AS THERE ARE MANY. 73 
 
 Marius was completely upset. Thus the fifty thousand 
 francs left him by his mother would be useless to him. 
 He wanted money at once and they talked to him of 
 waiting two years. And his ruin and despair were the 
 work of a scoundrel who had just been laughing at him ! 
 He flew into a passion. 
 
 " This Berard is a rascal, " he burst out. " He will be 
 vigorously hunted down. Society must be freed of these 
 crafty men who enrich themselves by the ruin of others. 
 The galleys await them." 
 
 The clerk again burst out laughing. 
 
 "Berard," he continued, " will perhaps get a fortnight's 
 imprisonment That is all. You don't seem to under- 
 stand again? Listen to me." 
 
 The two young men had been standing on the pave- 
 ment, elbowed by the passers-by. They returned into 
 the hall of the banker's house. 
 
 " You say the galleys await Berard," continued the 
 clerk. " The galleys only await clumsy folk. During the 
 ten years that our customer has been hatching and nurs- 
 ing his bankruptcy he has taken his precautions; infamy, 
 such as this, is quite a work of art. His accounts 
 are in order, and he has the law on his side. He knew 
 beforehand how slight was the risk he ran. The most the 
 court can do will be to reproach him with heavy perso- 
 nal expenses; they will tax him, besides, with having put 
 a large number of bills of exchange in circulation, which 
 is a ruinous way of procuring money. The penalties for 
 such mistakes are ridiculous. Berard, as I told you, will 
 get a fortnight, or a month's imprisonment at the most." 
 
 "But," exclaimed Marius, "cannot one go and proclaim 
 this man's crime on the public square, prove it, and have 
 him sentenced?" 
 
 "No, indeed! one cannot do that. Proofs are wanting, 
 I tell you. Besides Berard has not lost his time, he has 
 foreseen everything, he has made powerful friends at Mar- 
 seilles, imagining he would some day have need of their 
 influence. He is now a sort of inviolable personage in 
 this city of coteries: if they touched a single hair of his 
 head all his friends would yell with grief and rage. The
 
 74 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 most they could do would be to imprison him for form's 
 sake. When he leaves gaol he will find his little million 
 again, he will make a show of luxury and will easily 
 conquer fresh esteem. Yon will then meet him driving 
 out in his carriage, extended on his cushions, and the 
 wheels of his vehicle will splash you with mud ; you will 
 find him indifferent and idle, with a large establishment, 
 enjoying all the luxuries of life. And to worthily crown 
 this success in the art of robbery, they will bow to him, 
 like him, and open him a new credit of honour and 
 consideration." 
 
 Marius preserved ferocious silence. The clerk made him 
 a slight bow, and was about to leave him. 
 
 "It is thus the farce is played," he added. "I had all 
 that on my heart, and am glad to have met you to ease 
 myself. Now, a piece of advice : keep what I have told 
 you to yourself, say good-bye to your money, and do not 
 bother any more about the sorry business. Reflect and 
 you will see I am right. Good-day." 
 
 Marius remained alone. He had a tremendous desire 
 to rush upstairs to Berard and slap him in the face. All 
 his instincts of probity and justice had risen up within 
 him, urging him to drag the banker out into the street 
 and proclaim his crime. Then his passion gave way to 
 disgust, he remembered his poor mother shamelessly deceived 
 by this man, and from that moment he felt nothing but 
 crushing contempt for him. He followed the clerk's advice 
 and left the house, endeavouring to forget that he had 
 had money and that a rascal had robbed him of it. 
 
 What the clerk had told him was confirmed in every 
 point. Berard was sentenced to a month's imprisonment 
 for simple bankruptcy. 
 
 A year afterwards, with florid complexion and easy, 
 insolent bearing, he sauntered about Marseilles displaying 
 the jovial humour of a wealthy man. He rang his purse 
 in the clubs, restaurants and theatres, everywhere in fact 
 where pleasure could be purchased, and on his road he 
 invariably met with complaisant persons, or dupes who bowed 
 to him lewly.
 
 THIRTY THOUSAND FRANCS A YEAR. 75 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN WHICH IT IS PROVED THAT IT IS POSSIBLE TO 
 
 SPEND THIRTY THOUSAND FRANCS A 
 
 YEAR WHEN ONLY EARNING 
 
 EIGHTEEN HUNDRED. 
 
 MARIUS went mechanically down to the port. He walked 
 straight on without noticing whither he was going. He 
 was, so to say, in a state of stupefaction. One sole thought 
 occupied his otherwise empty brain, and kept repeating 
 in a sing-song way that he needed fifteen thousand francs 
 without a moment's loss of time, He cast about him the 
 vague glance of persons in despair, as though he were 
 looking on the ground to see if he could not find the 
 money he required in the interstices of the paving-stones. 
 Down at the port he felt a longing to be rich. The 
 merchandise piled up along the quays, the ships bringing 
 fortunes in their holds, the noise, the motion of that 
 money-making crowd, irritated him. Never before had 
 he felt his poverty so strongly. For a moment he was 
 filled with envy, revolt, and bitter jealousy. He asked 
 himself why he was poor whilst others were rich. 
 
 And still that ever-recurring thought kept ringing in his 
 head, fit to break it. Fifteen thousand francs ! fifteen 
 thousand francs ! His brother was awaiting him, and he 
 could not go back empty-handed. He had only a few 
 hours in which to save him from infamy. But he could 
 form no plan, his bewildered senses did not furnish him 
 with a single practical idea. He turned about in his 
 powerlessness, exerted every effort of his mind in vain, 
 he struggled, almost choking with rage and anguish. He 
 could never ask his employer, M. Martelly, to lend him 
 fifteen thousand francs. His earnings were too small to 
 warrant such a loan. Moreover, he knew the ship-owner's 
 upright principles, and dreaded his reproaches if he 
 admitted to him that he wished to purchase another's con- 
 science. M. Martelly would at once have refused the money. 
 
 Marius suddenly had an idea. He would not stav to
 
 76 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 discuss it in his mind, but hurried off to his lodging in 
 the Rue Sainte. On the same floor as himself there 
 resided a young clerk, named Charles Bletry, who was 
 employed as collector at the soap-works of Messrs. Daste 
 and Degans. A kind of intimacy had sprung up between 
 these two young fellows living side by side. Marius had 
 been won over by Charles's gentleness; for the latter went 
 regularly to church, led an exemplary life, and appeared 
 to be of the strictest honesty. Yet during the past two 
 years he had been spending money pretty freely. He had 
 refurnished his lodging in a luxurious style, buying carpets, 
 hangings, mirrors, and rich furniture. Besides this, he came 
 home later, lived more expensively; but still remained 
 gentle and honest, quiet and pious. 
 
 At first, his neighbour's outlay rather astonished Marius, 
 who could not understand how a clerk earning eighteen 
 hundred francs a year could afford to purchase such 
 expensive things. But Charles told him that he had 
 inherited some money, and that he intended shortly to 
 resign his position and live on his means. He even placed 
 himself and his purse at his disposal ; but Marius declined. 
 To-day, he recalled this offer, and was about to knock at 
 the young man's door and ask him for the means to save 
 his brother. A loan of fifteen thousand francs would not 
 perhaps inconvenience him, seeing how lavishly he was 
 spending his money. He proposed to himself to repay 
 the amount in instalments, persuaded that his neighbour 
 would grant him all the time necessary. 
 
 The clerk, however, was not at home in the Rue Sainte, 
 and as Marius was pressed for time he went off to Messrs. 
 Daste and Degans' soap-works, situated on the Boulevard 
 des Dames. When he arrived there and asked for Charles 
 Bletry, it seemed to him that he was eyed in a strange 
 manner. The workmen told him to address himself to 
 M. Daste, who was in his office. Surprised at this reception, 
 Marius decided to do so, and found the manufacturer 
 engaged in conversation with three gentlemen, who stopped 
 talking directly he showed himself. 
 
 "Can you tell me, sir," inquired the young man, "if 
 M. Charles Bletry is at the factory?"
 
 THIRTY THOUSAND FRANCS A YEAR. 77 
 
 Daste exchanged a rapid glance with one of the persons 
 present, a stout, pale, and severe-looking man. 
 
 " M. Charles Bletry will return presently," he replied. 
 "Please wait for him. Are you a friend of his?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Marius, simply. " He resides in the 
 same house as I do. I have known him for about three 
 years." 
 
 There was a pause. The young man, thinking he was 
 in the way, added, with a bow, and walking towards 
 the door: 
 
 " I am much obliged to you. I will wait for him 
 outside." 
 
 Then the stout gentleman leant forward and said a few 
 words to the manufacturer in a low voice. M. Daste 
 signed to Marius to stay. 
 
 "Have the goodness to wait here," he exclaimed. 
 " Your presence may be useful to us. You must know 
 something of M. Bletry's mode of living, and can no 
 doubt give us some information about him." 
 
 Marius, greatly astonished, and not understanding, hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 " Excuse me," resumed M. Daste with great politeness, 
 " I see that my words surprise you. " And indicating the 
 stout man, he went on : " That gentleman is the police 
 commissary of the district, and I have sent for him to 
 arrest Charles Bletry who has robbed us of sixty thou- 
 sand francs in two years." 
 
 On hearing Charles accused of theft, Marius understood 
 everything. He accounted for the young fellow's lavish 
 expenditure, and shuddered at the thought that he had 
 been on the point of accepting his offers of service. He 
 would never have believed that his neighbour could have 
 been guilty of a mean action. He knew very well 
 that there existed at Marseilles, as in all great cen- 
 tres of industry, clerks who robbed their employers in 
 order to satisfy their vices and their love of luxury; 
 he had often heard of clerks earning a hundred or a 
 hundred and fifty francs a month, and who managed to 
 lose immense sums in gambling in the clubs, to throw 
 gold to loose women, and to idle away their time in
 
 78 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES!. 
 
 restaurants and cafes. But Charles seemed so pious, so 
 modest, so honest, he had played the hypocrite so art- 
 fully, that Marius had been taken in by these appear- 
 ances of probity, and he even now entertained doubts de- 
 spite M. Daste's formal accusation. 
 
 He seated himself and awaited the development of the 
 drama. As a matter of fact he could not very well have 
 done otherwise. During half-an-hour a mournful silence 
 reigned in the office. The manufacturer was writing, whilst the 
 police commissary and the two officers, mute and looking 
 half asleep, gazed vaguely before them with terrible 
 patience. Such a sight was calculated to make Marius 
 honest had he been disposed to be otherwise. A step 
 was heard outside, and the door slowly opened. 
 
 " Here's our man," said M. Daste, rising from his seat. 
 
 Charles Bletry entered quite unsuspiciously, without 
 even noticing the persons who were there. 
 
 " You wish to see me, sir ? " he asked, in that drawling 
 voice peculiar to clerks when addressing their employers. 
 
 As M. Daste was looking him straight in the face, he 
 turned round and beheld the police commissary, whom 
 he knew by sight. He became ghastly pale, understand- 
 ing that he was lost, and his whole body trembled. He 
 had just walked into the meshes of the law with his eyes 
 shut. Seeing that his frightened looks were accusing him, 
 he tried to pull himself together and to recover a little 
 coolness and audacity. 
 
 " Yes, I wish to see you! " M. Daste exclaimed, violently. 
 "And you know why, don't you? Ah! scoundrel, you'll 
 never rob me again ! " 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," stammered Bletry. 
 " I've never robbed you. What is it you accuse me of? " 
 
 The police commissary had seated himself at the manu- 
 facturer's desk, ready to draw up his report, whilst the 
 two officers were guarding the door. 
 
 "Kindly tell me, sir," said the police commissary to 
 M. Daste, " how you discovered that M. Bletry had been 
 guilty of embezzling your money." 
 
 Then M. Daste told the story of the crime. He no- 
 ticed that occasionally his collector was an extremely long
 
 THIRTY THOUSAND FRANCS A YEAR. 79 
 
 time in getting in certain monies. But as he had unlim- 
 ited confidence in the young man, he attributed these delays 
 to the dilatoriness of his customers. The first embezzle- 
 ment must have occurred quite eighteen months back. 
 Anyhow, the day before, one of his customers being on 
 the verge of bankruptcy, he had gone personally to demand 
 payment of an account amounting to five thousand francs, 
 and had thereupon learnt that Bletry had collected it 
 some weeks previously. Much alarmed, he had hurried 
 back to the factory, and, by going through the cashier's 
 books, had convinced himself that about sixty thousand 
 francs were missing. 
 
 The police commissary then proceeded to question Ble- 
 try. The latter, taken unawares and unable to deny the 
 facts, concocted a ridiculous story. 
 
 "One day," he said, "I lost my pocket-book contain- 
 ing forty thousand francs. I had not the courage to 
 tell M. Daste of this great misfortune, so I embezzled some 
 money to gamble on the stock exchange, hoping to win 
 and so reimburse the firm." 
 
 The police commissary asked him for particulars, con- 
 fused him by his questions, and forced him to contradict 
 himself. Bletry then tried another falsehood. 
 
 "You are right," he resumed, "I did not lose the 
 pocket-book. I prefer to tell you everything. The truth 
 is I was robbed myself. I gave shelter to a young man 
 who was hard-up. One night he went off with my 
 collector's bag, and it contained a considerable sum of 
 money." 
 
 "Come, don't make your crime worse by lying," said 
 the commissary, with that terrifying patience of police 
 officials. " You know very well that we can't believe you. 
 It's no use inventing such rigmaroles." He then turned 
 to Marius and continued : " I asked M. Dastc to detain 
 you, sir, thinking you might be useful to us in our inquiry. 
 The accused is, you said, your neighbour. Do you know 
 anything about his mode of life. Will you not beseech him 
 with us to tell the truth ? " 
 
 Marius felt dreadfully embarrassed. He pitied Bletry, 
 who was reeling like a drunken man and looking at him
 
 80 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 imploringly. The man was not a hardened scoundrel ; no 
 doubt he had given way to temptation, to a weak mind 
 and heart. But Marius's conscience would not be stilled, 
 and commanded him to say what he knew. He did not 
 reply to the police commissary directly, but preferred to 
 address himself to Bletry. 
 
 "Listen, Charles," he said, "I do not know whether 
 you are guilty. I have always found you good and 
 quiet. I am aware that you support your mother 
 and that you are beloved by all who know you. If you 
 have been guilty of wrong, admit your folly : you will cause 
 less suffering to those who love and esteem you by frankly 
 owning your guilt and showing sincere repentance." 
 
 Marius spoke in a gentle and convincing voice. Bletry, 
 whom the curt words of the police commissary had left 
 dumb and inwardly irritated, gave way before his friend's 
 kindness. He thought of his mother, he thought of the 
 esteem and the friendships he was about to lose, and his 
 emotion nearly choked him. He burst into sobs, weeping 
 hot tears in his closed hands ; and for some minutes no 
 sound was heard but the heartrending cry of his despair. 
 It was a complete avowal. The spectators of the scene 
 remained silent. 
 
 "Well! yes," Bletry exclaimed at last, amidst his tears. 
 " I have robbed, I'm a scoundrel I didn't know what I 
 was about I commenced by taking a few hundred francs, 
 then I required a thousand, two thousand, five thousand, 
 ten thousand francs at a time It seemed as if someone 
 was behind me, urging me on And my needs, my appe- 
 tites were ever increasing." 
 
 " But what did you do with all that money ? " asked 
 the police commissary. 
 
 "I don't know I gave it away, lost it at play, devoured 
 it somehow You don't know the life I was happy 
 enough in my poverty and troubled with nothing, I loved 
 to go to church and to live worthily like an honest man. 
 But then I had a taste of luxury and vice, I got to know 
 women, I bought expensive things I was mad." 
 
 "Can you give me the names of the women with whom 
 you squandered the money you were embezzling ? "
 
 PHILIPPE REFUSES TO SAVE HIMSELF. 8 1 
 
 " As if I knew their names ! I met them here, there, 
 everywhere, in the streets and at public balls. They 
 came because I had my pockets full of gold, and 
 they went off when they were empty Then I lost a lot 
 playing baccara at the clubs What turned me into a 
 thief was seeing certain well-born young men throwing 
 their money out of window and revelling in wealth and 
 idleness. I wanted to know women as they did, to have 
 noisy joys, nights spent in gambling and debauchery I 
 required thirty thousand francs a year, and I was only 
 earning eighteen hundred so I ended by stealing." 
 
 The poor wretch, suffocating, overcome by grief, dropped 
 on to a chair. Marius went up to M. Daste who was 
 also much affected, and beseeched him to be merciful. 
 He then hastened to withdraw from a scene which made 
 his heart bleed. He left Bletry quite prostrated by a kind 
 of nervous stupor. 
 
 Some months later he learnt that the young man had 
 been condemned to five years' imprisonment. 
 
 Once outside, Marius experienced a great feeling of 
 relief. He understood that by assisting at Charles's arrest 
 he had received a lesson. A few hours before, when down 
 at the port, he had indulged in some evil ideas of fortune. 
 He had just seen where such thoughts might lead him. 
 And suddenly he remembered why he had gone to the 
 soap-works. He had only another hour left in which to 
 find the fifteen thousand francs which were to save his 
 brother. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 PHILIPPE REFUSES TO SAVE HIMSELF. 
 
 MARIUS had to admit to himself how powerless he was. 
 He knew not at what door to knock. 
 
 It is not easy for a simple clerk to borrow fifteen 
 thousand francs in the course of an hour. He walked 
 slowly down the Rue d'Aix, straining his mind but finding 
 nothing in his wearied brain. Money troubles are terrible ; 
 
 6
 
 82 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 one would sooner battle with an assassin than fight against 
 the imperceptible and crushing phantom of poverty. 
 Nobody has ever yet been able to conjure up a five- 
 franc piece. 
 
 When the young man, hopeless and at his wits' end, 
 reached the Cours Belzunce, he decided to return to Aix 
 empty-handed. The coach was about to start, and there 
 was only one vacant seat left, an outside one. He took 
 it with delight, preferring to remain in the open air, for 
 anxiety was stifling him, and he hoped that the vast horizon 
 of the open country would calm his fever. It was a sad 
 journey. In the morning, he had passed the same trees, 
 the same hills, and hope, which brought a smile to his 
 lips, then shed a joyous brightness over the fields and 
 slopes. Now, as he again beheld the same country-side, 
 he enveloped it in all the gloom that was weighing on 
 his mind. 
 
 The heavy vehicle lumbered on; the cultivated land, 
 the pine-woods, the little hamlets succeeded each other 
 at either side of the road; and Marius found in each 
 change of landscape a deeper air of mourning, a more 
 poignant grief. Night fell, and it seemed to him that the 
 entire country was covered by an immense pall. 
 
 On reaching Aix, he walked slowly towards the prison. 
 He felt that he would always arrive too soon with his 
 evil news. When he entered the gaol, it was nine o'clock. 
 Revertegat and Fine were killing time by having a game 
 at cards on a corner of the table. The flower-girl jumped 
 up gleefully and ran to meet the young man. 
 
 " Well ? " she asked him, with a bright smile, and throwing 
 back her head coquettishly. 
 
 Marius had not the courage to reply. He sat down 
 exhausted. 
 
 " Speak up ! " cried Fine. " You've got the money ? " 
 
 " No," the young man answered, simply. 
 
 After a moment he told them of Berard's failure. 
 Bletry's arrest, all the misfortunes he had encountered 
 at Marseilles. He wound up by saying: 
 
 " I am now no more than a poverty-stricken wretch 
 My brother will remain a prisoner."
 
 PHILIPPE REFUSES TO SAVE HIMSELF. 83 
 
 The flower-girl remained painfully surprised. Her hands 
 clasped, in that attitude of pity peculiar to Provencal 
 women, she repeated in a rueful tone of voice : 
 
 "How sad, how sad!" 
 
 She looked at her uncle and seemed to be urging him 
 to speak. Revertegat eyed the two young people com- 
 passionately. It was evident that a struggle was taking 
 place within him. At length he seemed to make up his 
 mind, and said to Marius : 
 
 " Listen to me, sir. My duties have not hardened me 
 to such an extent as to render me insensible to the 
 sufferings of worthy people. I have already said why I 
 was willing to sell you your brother's freedom. But I do 
 not wish you to think that the love of money alone is 
 prompting me. If unfortunate circumstances prevent your 
 placing me at once out of the reach of poverty, I will 
 nevertheless open the door to M. Philippe. You can come 
 to my assistance later on, and pay me the fifteen thousand 
 francs little by little when you are able to do so." 
 
 Fine clapped her hands on hearing these words. She 
 flung her arms round her uncle's neck and embraced him 
 heartily. Marius looked very grave as he replied : 
 
 " I cannot accept your sacrifice. I am already reproaching 
 myself with having tempted you to disregard your duty, 
 and I refuse to increase my responsibility by also casting 
 you adrift without a crust of bread." 
 
 The flower-girl turned to the young man almost angrily. 
 
 "Hold your tongue!" she cried. " M. Philippe must 
 be saved. I intend that he shall be. Besides, we don't 
 need you to open the prison doors. Come, uncle. If 
 M. Philippe is willing, his brother can have nothing 
 to say." 
 
 Marius followed the young woman and the gaoler who 
 were going in the direction of the prisoner's cell. They 
 had taken a dark lantern, and were gliding softly along 
 the passages in order not to excite remark. All three 
 entered the cell and closed the door behind them. Philippe 
 was asleep. 
 
 Revertegat, moved by his niece's tears, had softened 
 the prison regulations as much as possible for the young
 
 84 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 man : he brought him lunch and dinner which Fine herself 
 prepared ; he lent him books, and had even given him an 
 additional rug. The cell had been made habitable, and 
 Philippe was not too uncomfortable there. He knew, 
 moreover, that they were working for his escape. He 
 woke up and held out his hands effusively to his brother 
 and the flower-girl. 
 
 " You have come for me ? " he asked smiling. 
 
 "Yes," answered Fine. "Dress yourself at once." 
 
 Marius remained silent. His heart was beating quickly. 
 He feared that a strong desire for liberty might lead his 
 brother to accept the means of flight which he himself 
 had thought right to decline. 
 
 "So everything is agreed and arranged?" resumed 
 Philippe. " I may go off without fear or regret ? You 
 have paid the promised amount ? You don't answer me, 
 Marius." 
 
 Fine hastened to intervene. 
 
 " Haven't I told you to make haste ? " she cried. " What 
 are you troubling yourself about ? " 
 
 She threw him his clothes, and added that she would 
 wait in the passage. Marius stopped her. 
 
 "Excuse me," he said, "I cannot leave my brother in 
 ignorance of our misfortunes." 
 
 And, in spite of Fine's impatience, he related again the 
 result of his journey to Marseilles. He, however, gave his 
 brother no advice but left him at full liberty to come to 
 a decision himself. 
 
 "So then," exclaimed Philippe, completely crushed, 
 " you've not given the money to the gaoler, and we're 
 without a copper ? " 
 
 "Don't worry yourself about that," replied Revertegat, 
 drawing nearer. " You can help me later on." 
 
 The prisoner said nothing. He was no longer thinking 
 of his escape, his thoughts were centered on his poverty, 
 on the sorry figure he would henceforth cut, once he was 
 at liberty. No more smart clothes, no more strolls in 
 fashionable haunts, no more love adventures. But besides 
 all this he had some chivalrous feelings, some poetical 
 ideas which forbade him accepting Revertegat's sacrifice.
 
 PHILIPPE REFUSES TO SAVE HIMSELF. 85 
 
 He lay back on his miserable bed, drew the clothes up 
 to his chin, and said quietly : 
 
 "Very well, I shall stay where I am." 
 
 Marius's face beamed. Fine looked overwhelmed. She 
 tried to prove the necessity for the escape, she spoke of 
 the public exhibition, of the infamy of the pillory. She 
 grew excited and looked superb in her passion, and Philippe 
 gazed at her admiringly, 
 
 "My beautiful child," he replied, "you might succeed 
 in making me yield if I had not grown blind and obstinate 
 in this cell. But really I have done enough mean things 
 already without wishing to burden my conscience with 
 any more. We are in the hands of Providence. Moreover, 
 all is not yet lost. Marius will free me; he'll find the 
 money somehow, you see if he don't. You shall come 
 and fetch me when you've paid my ransom. And we'll 
 fly together, and I'll give you a kiss ' 
 
 He spoke almost gaily. Marius took his hand. 
 
 "Thanks, brother," he said. "Be of good cheer." 
 
 Fine and Revertegat went out, whilst Philippe and 
 Marius remained alone a few minutes. They had some 
 serious and affecting conversation: they spoke of Blanche, 
 and the child she was expecting. When the visitors were 
 back in the gaoler's room, the flower-girl in despair, asked 
 Marius what he thought of doing. 
 
 I shall make some further efforts," he replied. " Unfor- 
 tunately we have not much time, and I scarcely know 
 where to seek assistance." 
 
 " I am give you a piece of advice" observed Revertegat. 
 " There's a banker in this town, living close by here, named 
 Rostand, who would perhaps consent to lend you a con- 
 siderable sum. But I must warn you that this Rostand 
 has the reputation of being an usurer." 
 
 Marius had not the choice of means. 
 
 "Thanks," he said. " I will call on the man to-morrow."
 
 86 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE USURERS. 
 
 M. ROSTAND was a clever man. He pursued his shameful 
 calling undisturbed. To give an honest appearance to 
 his trade, he had opened a banking-house; and having 
 paid for the license, he was legally established. At times, 
 he could even be a trifle honest, and would lend money 
 at the same rate of interest as the other bankers of the 
 town. But there was, so to say, a back office in his 
 establishment, wherein he took delight in elaborating his 
 knavish schemes. 
 
 Six months after the opening of his bank, he became 
 the managing director of a company of usurers, a black 
 band which entrusted him with certain funds for invest- 
 ment. The combination was of a simplicity quite patriarchal. 
 People endowed with the bump of usury, and who feared 
 to indulge their propensity at their own risk and peril, 
 brought him their money and requested him to turn it 
 to good account. By these means he always had a 
 considerable capital to turn over, and was enabled to take 
 full advantage of needy borrowers. 
 
 Those who furnished the money remained in the back- 
 ground. He had solemnly undertaken to lend at a fabulous 
 rate of interest, at fifty, sixty and even eighty per cent. 
 The sleeping partners met at his office once a month, he 
 produced his accounts, and they shared the spoil. But 
 he so arranged matters as to keep the larger share for 
 himself in fact, he robbed the robbers. 
 
 It was especially against the small traders that he directed 
 his operations. When a shopkeeper came to see him the 
 day before a payment fell due, he imposed most exorbitant 
 terms. The tradesman invariably accepted them; and in 
 this way he had brought about more than fifty failures in 
 ten years. Moreover, all was fish that came to his net ; 
 he would as soon lend five francs to a market-woman as 
 a thousand to a cattle-dealer; he kept a sharp look-out, 
 and never lost an opportunity of investing ten francs one
 
 THE USURERS. 87 
 
 day to receive twelve the next. He was on the watch 
 for noble youths, fast young men who fling their money 
 out of window; he filled their hands with gold, so that 
 they might throw the more, and he stood outside to pick 
 up what they threw. He also took trips into the country 
 and tempted the peasants; when the crops failed he dispos- 
 sessed them piece by piece of their land and farms. 
 
 His house had thus become a veritable pit-fall which 
 swallowed up whole fortunes. The individuals, the entire 
 families he had ruined were well-known. No one was 
 ignorant of his underhand dealings. His sleeping partners 
 were pointed at in the streets, wealthy men, ex-officials, 
 merchants and even workmen. But proof was lacking. 
 His banker's license shielded him, and he was too clever 
 to allow himself to be caught napping. 
 
 Since he had first started his nefarious speculations, 
 Rostand had only once found himself in danger. The 
 affair created a great sensation. A lady belonging to a 
 wealthy family borrowed a rather large sum of him ; she 
 was very pious and had bereft herself of her fortune by 
 giving money in charity on all sides. Knowing that she 
 was completely without means, he insisted upon her signing 
 bills with her brother's name. Having these forgeries in 
 his possession, he was certain of being paid by the brother, 
 who would be anxious to avoid a scandal. The poor lady 
 signed as required. Charity had ruined her, and the weak 
 kindliness of her nature brought about her fall. 
 
 His calculations turned out correct, and the first bills 
 were paid ; but as more and more were presented, the 
 brother grew tired of paying and determined to get to the 
 bottom of the matter. He called on Rostand and threat- 
 ened to expose him ; he said that he would sooner see 
 his sister disgraced than allow himself to be further robbed 
 with impunity by such a scoundrel. The usurer, thoroughly 
 cowed, gave up the bills he still possessed. He did not, 
 however, lose a copper on the transaction, having advanced 
 the loan at cent per cent. 
 
 Since then, Rostand had been extremely careful. He 
 invested the capital of the black band with a skill which 
 won him the admiration and confidence of the usurers.
 
 88 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Whilst his sleeping partners were airing themselves in 
 the sunshine, like worthy people who would never rob 
 a soul, he remained buried in a great dark office : it was 
 there that the golden coins of the concern grew and 
 multiplied. 
 
 Rostand had ended by acquiring quite an affection for 
 his fraudulent and thievish trade. Some members of the 
 band applied their profits to satisfying their passions, their 
 appetites for luxurious and dissolute living. He took his 
 sole delight in being a clever rascal; he felt as much 
 interest in each of his operations as if it had been a 
 drama or a comedy he was witnessing; he applauded him- 
 self when his plans succeeded, and he then felt the pride, 
 the joy of a successful author; then he spread out on a 
 table the money he had stolen and lost himself in all the 
 voluptuous sensations of the miser. 
 
 It was to such a man that Revertegat had naively sent 
 Marius. 
 
 The latter knocked at Rostand's door on the following 
 morning towards eight o'clock. It was a heavy square 
 house, and the closed shutters gave it a bare cold appear- 
 ance, an air of mystery and mistrust. A toothless old 
 waiting-woman, attired in a dirty, ragged, cotton gown, 
 opened the door a few inches. 
 
 " M. Rostand ? " asked Marius. 
 
 "He is in, but engaged," replied the servant, without 
 opening the door any wider. 
 
 The young man, losing patience, pushed the door open 
 and entered the hall. 
 
 "Very well," he said, "I'll wait." 
 
 Surprised and scarcely knowing what to do, the servant, 
 seeing she could not get rid of him, took him up to the 
 first floor, and left him by himself in a kind of ante- 
 room. It was a small dark apartment hung with green- 
 ish wall paper, discoloured by large damp stains. The 
 only furniture consisted in a rush-bottomed chair, upon 
 which Marius seated himself. Opposite him, an open 
 door showed the interior of an office in which a clerk was 
 writing with a quill pen, which made a grating noise as 
 it travelled over the paper. There was another door on
 
 THE USURERS. 89 
 
 his left which probably led to the banker's private room. 
 
 Marius waited a long time. The stale smell of old 
 papers pervaded the atmosphere around him. The apart- 
 ment was sickeningly dirty, and the nakedness of the 
 walls gave it a lugubrious appearance. Dust was accumu- 
 lated in all the corners, and cobwebs hung from the ceil- 
 ing. The young man was suffocating and getting out of 
 patience with the grating of the quill pen which kept on 
 increasing. Suddenly he heard voices in the adjoining 
 room and, as the words reached him clear and distinct, 
 he was on the point of discreetly moving further off, 
 when certain expressions rooted him to the spot. 
 
 There are some conversations which it is permissible 
 to overhear, scrupulousness not being intended as a safe- 
 guard of the privacy of certain people. A harsh voice, 
 no doubt that of the master of the house, was saying with 
 friendly bluntness: 
 
 " Gentlemen, we are all here, let's talk business. The 
 sitting is open. I will render you a faithful account of 
 my operations of the month, and we will then proceed 
 to the division of the profits. " 
 
 There was slight noise, a sound of private conversations 
 dying away. Marius, who so far had not understood, 
 felt nevertheless a lively curiosity: he guessed that some 
 strange scene was taking place on the other side of the 
 door. As a matter of fact, the usurer Rostand was 
 closeted with his worthy associates of the black band. 
 
 The young man had called just at the time of their 
 meeting, when the managing director was about to produce 
 his accounts, explain his operations, and divide the spoil. 
 The harsh voice continued : 
 
 " Before entering into details, I must inform you that 
 this month's results are not so good as last month's. 
 We then had an average of sixty per cent., to-day we 
 have only fifty-five." 
 
 Various exclamations arose, similar to the protesting 
 murmurs of a dissatisfied crowd. There must have been 
 about fifteen persons in the room. 
 
 "Gentlemen," continued Rostand, with bitter raillery, 
 " I have done what I could and you ought to thank me.
 
 go THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 The business becomes more difficult every day. How- 
 ever, here are my accounts and I will give you a rapid 
 statement of some of the affairs I have transacted." 
 
 Complete silence ensued for a few seconds. Then there 
 was a rustling of paper and the sound of the leaves of a 
 ledger being turned over. Marius, beginning to under- 
 stand, listened more attentively than ever. Rostand 
 commenced to go over his various operations, giving some 
 explanations as to each one. He spoke in the sing-song 
 voice of a court official. 
 
 "I lent," he said, "ten thousand francs to young Count 
 de Salvy, a youth of twenty, who will attain his majority 
 in nine months' time. He had lost at play, and his 
 mistress, it seems, required a large amount from him. 
 He signed bills at three months for eighteen thousand 
 francs. These bills are post-dated the day of his majority, 
 so as to make all secure. The family owns large estates. 
 It's an excellent affair." 
 
 A flattering murmur greeted the usurer's words. 
 
 " On the morrow," he continued, " I received a visit 
 from the count's mistress, who was exasperated, her lover 
 only having given her two or three thousand-franc notes. 
 She swore that she would bring me the count bound 
 hand and foot to negotiate a fresh loan. I shall then 
 require the , assignment of one of his estates. We have 
 still nine months to shear the young fool, whom his mother 
 leaves without money." 
 
 Rostand turned over some leaves of the ledger, and 
 resumed, after a short silence : 
 
 "Jourdier a cloth merchant, who each month requires 
 a few hundred francs to meet his bills. At the present 
 time his business belongs almost entirely to us. I last 
 lent him five hundred francs at sixty per cent. If he 
 asks for anything next month, I'll make him bankrupt 
 and we shall take the whole of his stock. 
 
 " Marianne a market-woman. Every morning she wants 
 ten francs, and every evening she returns me fifteen. I 
 fancy she drinks. It's a small affair, but a certain profit, 
 a fixed income of five francs a day. 
 
 " Laurent a peasant of the Roquefavour district. He
 
 THE USURERS. 91 
 
 has made over to me, piece by piece, some land he 
 owned near Arc. The ground is worth five thousand 
 francs, and has only cost us two thousand. I had the 
 man evicted from the place, and his wife and children 
 came here and made quite a scene. You'll take into 
 account, I hope, these annoyances I have to put up with ? 
 
 "Andre a miller. He owed us eight hundred francs, 
 and I threatened him with an execution. He hurried 
 here and implored me not to ruin him by letting every- 
 one know of his insolvency. I consented to effect the 
 seizure myself, without employing a bailiff, and by that 
 means I obtained over twelve hundred francs' worth of 
 furniture and linen. I made quite four hundred francs 
 by being good-natured." 
 
 A tremor of satisfaction passed through his colleagues. 
 Marius could hear the smothered laughter of those men 
 who were rejoicing at Rostand's cleverness. The latter 
 continued : 
 
 " Now for the simple cases : three thousand francs at 
 forty per cent, to the merchant Simon ; fifteen hundred 
 francs at fifty per cent, to Charancon, the cattle-dealer; 
 two thousand francs at eighty per cent, to the Marquis 
 de Cantarel ; one hundred francs at thirty-five per cent, 
 to the son of Tingrey the notary 
 
 And Rostand went on thus for a quarter of an hour, 
 reading out names and figures, mentioning loans varying 
 from ten francs to ten thousand, and interest from twenty 
 to one hundred per cent. 
 
 "But what were you telling us, my dear friend?" asked 
 a thick husky voice, when he had finished. " You have 
 worked wonderfully well this last month. All these assets 
 are excellent. It is impossible for the profit not to average 
 more than fifty-five per cent. You no doubt made a 
 mistake when you mentioned that figure." 
 
 "I never make a mistake," the usurer curtly answered. 
 
 Marius, who had almost placed his ear against the door, 
 thought he noticed some hesitation in the wretch's voice. 
 
 " I have not yet told you everything," Rostand continued 
 with embarrassment. " We lost twelve thousand francs, a 
 week ago."
 
 92 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 These words created quite an uproar, and Marius hoped, 
 for a moment, that the scoundrels would set upon one 
 another. 
 
 "Hang it all! listen to me," cried the banker, amid the 
 tumult. " I help you to make enough money for you to 
 excuse me if you lose some once in a way. Besides, it 
 wasn't my fault. I was robbed." 
 
 He uttered these words with all the indignation of an 
 honest man. When quiet was restored, he added : 
 
 " Here's the whole story Monier, a corn-dealer and 
 a solvent man, about whom I had obtained reliable infor- 
 mation, came to borrow twelve thousand francs. I said 
 I could not lend them myself, but that I knew an old 
 skinflint who would perhaps advance the money at exorbitant 
 interest. He called again the next day and told me that 
 he was ready to agree to any conditions. I told him that 
 five thousand francs interest for six months was required. 
 He agreed. 
 
 " You see, it was as good as a gold mine. Whilst I 
 went to fetch the cash, he sat down at my table and 
 wrote out seventeen bills of a thousand francs each. I 
 examined them and placed them on the corner of this 
 desk. Then I conversed a few minutes with Monier who 
 got up, and, after putting his money away, prepared to 
 leave. 
 
 " When he was gone, I took the documents to put them 
 in a place of safety. But just fancy, the rogue had changed 
 the bills for a similar bundle of worthless ones, scribbled 
 all over, payable to the deuce knows who, and unsigned. 
 I was robbed, and nearly had a fit. I ran after the swindler 
 whom I found strolling along the Cours in the sunshine. At 
 the first word I uttered, he called me an usurer and 
 threatened me with the police commissary. That Monier 
 has the reputation of being a loyal and upright man, and 
 so, upon reflection, I preferred to hold my tongue." 
 
 This story had been several times interrupted by the 
 angry remarks of the listeners. 
 
 " You must admit, Rostand, that you have been wanting 
 in energy," observed the husky voice. "Well, we've lost 
 our money, and will only get fifty-five per cent. Another
 
 THE USURERS. Q3 
 
 time, you must look after our interests better. Now we'll 
 divide the profits." 
 
 In spite of his anguish and indignation, Marius could 
 not help smiling. Monier's robbery was like a grand 
 piece of comedy, and in his heart he applauded the knave 
 who had cheated a knave. He now knew the trade 
 Rostand followed. He had not lost a word of what had 
 been said in the adjoining room, and he easily pictured 
 to himself the scene that had been passing there. 
 
 Leaning back on his chair, his ear close to the door, 
 he could see in his mind's eye the usurers quarrelling among 
 themselves, with eager looks and faces contracted by the 
 evil passions which were agitating them. 
 
 He felt a kind of bitter mirth when he thought of his 
 reason for coming to that thieves' den. What simplicity, 
 good heavens ! It was there he had thought to obtain the 
 fifteen thousand francs which were to save Philippe, and 
 he had been waiting an hour for the banker to turn him 
 out like a beggar. Or else Rostand would demand fifty 
 per cent, interest and rob him impudently. At that thought, 
 and with the knowledge that there was there, close to him, a 
 meeting of rascals who throve on the shame and misfortunes 
 of a town, he jumped up and laid his hand on the door- 
 handle. One could hear the clink of gold within the room. 
 
 The usurers were dividing their spoil. Each one was 
 pocketing his share of a month's swindling. That money, 
 which they were counting and whose music voluptuously 
 titillated their flesh, seemed at times to sob aloud amidst 
 the quivering silence, broken only by the banker's voice 
 uttering figures with metallic harshness. He calculated 
 each one's share, named an amount and let fall a pile of 
 jingling coins. 
 
 Marius turned the handle, and, with pale face and 
 resolute gaze, stood a few seconds silent in the doorway. 
 
 The young man had a strange spectacle before him. 
 Rostand was standing at his table ; behind him was an 
 open safe from which he took handsful of gold. Around 
 the table were seated the members of the black band, 
 some awaiting their share, others pocketing the money 
 they had just received. Every minute, the banker consulted
 
 94 THE- MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 his accounts, examining a ledger, and doled out the money 
 with a careful hand. His confederates were watching his 
 movements. 
 
 At the sound of the opening door, all the heads turned 
 quickly round with fright. And, when they beheld Marius, 
 grave and indignant, they instinctively closed their fingers 
 on their heaps of gold. 
 
 For a moment all was confusion and apprehension. 
 The young man recognised the wretches perfectly. He 
 had met them in the streets with heads erect and dignified 
 miens, and he had even bowed to some who might have 
 saved his brother. They were all wealthy, esteemed, and 
 influential ; there were among them ex-government officials, 
 landed proprietors, and persons who frequented the churches 
 and drawing-rooms of the town. To see them thus, cringing 
 and paling beneath his gaze, he could not restrain a 
 movement of disgust. 
 
 Rostand rushed forward, his eyes blinking feverishly, 
 his thick discoloured lips trembling, all his miser's red 
 and wrinkled face expressing a sort of scared surprise. 
 
 "What do you want?" he asked Marius stammering. 
 "You have no right to walk into a house in this manner." 
 
 " I wanted fifteen thousand francs," replied the young 
 man, in a cold and scoffing tone of voice. 
 
 "I've no money," the usurer hastened to say, retreating 
 to the door of his safe. 
 
 " Oh ! be easy, I no longer wish to be robbed. I must 
 tell you that I've been waiting an hour on the other side 
 of the door and have heard all you've been saying." 
 
 This statement came like the blow of a club, and 
 caused the members of the black band to bow their heads. 
 These men had still some slight feeling of respectability 
 left, and there were some who hid their faces in their 
 hands. Rostand, having no reputation to lose, gradually 
 recovered himself. He again went up to Marius, and 
 raised his voice. 
 
 "Who are you?" he cried. "By what right do you 
 come into my house listening at doors ? Why do you come 
 into my private office, if you have nothing to ask of me ? " 
 
 " Who am I ? " said the young man, in a calm, quiet
 
 THE USURERS. Q5 
 
 tone, " I am an honest man and you are a rascal. By 
 what right did I listen at this door? By the right that 
 respectable people have of unmasking scoundrels. Why 
 have I come in here? Simply to tell you that you are 
 a villain." 
 
 Rostand was trembling with rage. He could not account 
 for the presence of this avenger who thus told him the 
 truth to his face. He was about to shout out, to fall 
 upon Marius, when the latter energetically motioned him 
 back. 
 
 "Keep quiet," he resumed. "I am going, I am stifling 
 here. But I would not go without relieving my feelings 
 a bit. Ah ! gentlemen, you have a voracious appetite. 
 You gluttonously share among you the tears and despair 
 of entire families; you gorge yourselves with robbery and 
 swindling. I am glad to be able to trouble your digestion 
 a trifle and to make you shiver with anxiety." 
 
 Rostand attempted to stop him, but he continued in a 
 louder tone of voice : 
 
 " Highwaymen possess at least courage. They fight 
 and risk their lives. But you, gentlemen, you rob shamelessly 
 in secret. And to think that it was not necessary for 
 you to become swindlers to live ! You are every one of 
 you well-to-do. You behave like scoundrels, heaven 
 forgive me! for pleasure!" 
 
 Some of the usurers rose menacingly. 
 
 " You've never before seen the anger of an honest man, 
 have you? " added Marius, scoffingly. " Truth both annoys 
 and frightens you. You're accustomed to be treated with 
 the respect due to decent people, and, as you have arranged 
 to hide your baseness and to live esteemed by all, you 
 have ended by yourselves believing in the respect accorded 
 to your hypocrisy. Well! I've chosen that for once in 
 your lives you should be insulted as you deserve, and 
 that's why I entered here." 
 
 The young men saw that they would fall upon him if 
 he went on. He retreated step by step towards the door, 
 keeping the usurers at bay by the firmness of his gaze. 
 Once there, he stopped again. 
 
 "I know very well, gentlemen," he said, "that I cannot
 
 96 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 bring you to the bar of human justice. Your wealth, 
 your influence, and your skill render you inviolable. If I 
 were foolish enough to fight against you, it is I, no doubt, 
 who would be crushed. But, anyhow, I shall not have 
 to reproach myself with having been in the company of 
 such men as you without having shewn them my con- 
 tempt. I would that my words were red-hot irons 
 that would brand you on your faces. The crowd would 
 follow you with its howls, and perhaps the lesson would 
 do you good. Share your gold : if there's an atom of 
 honesty left in you, it will burn your hands." 
 
 Marius closed the door and went off. When he reached 
 the street, he smiled sadly. He saw life spread out before 
 him in all its shame and wretchedness, and perceived 
 he was performing the noble and ridiculous part of a Don 
 Quixote of justice and honour. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 TWO SHAMELESS CHARACTERS. 
 
 WHEN Marius had related his adventure to the gaoler 
 and flower-girl, the latter exclaimed: 
 
 " We're no better off than we were! Why did you lose 
 your temper? That man might have lent you the money." 
 
 Women possess a certain obstinacy which renders the 
 feminine conscience easier ; therefore Fine, loyal girl though 
 she was, would perhaps have closed her ears at Rostand's, 
 or even have made use of the secrets chance placed in 
 her possession. Revertegat felt rather ashamed at having 
 advised Marius to go to the banker. 
 
 "I warned you, sir," he said; "I was aware of the 
 rumours afloat about the man; but I thought a great 
 deal was said out of spite. Had I known the real truth 
 I would never have sent you to him." 
 
 Marius and Fine spent the afternoon in forming 
 extravagant plans, in cudgelling their brains in vain for 
 a means of obtaining the fifteen thousand francs necessary 
 for Philippe's safety.
 
 TWO SHAMELESS CHARACTERS. 97 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the young woman, " can't we 
 find in all this town some kind soul willing to help us 
 out of our trouble ? Are there no rich people here who 
 would lend their money at a reasonable rate? Come, 
 uncle, think a bit. Tell me of some benevolent person 
 whom I may go and plead to on my knees." 
 
 Revertegat shook his head. 
 
 "Well, yes!" he replied, " there are worthy people here, 
 rich folk who would perhaps assist you. But you have 
 no claim on their bounty, you can't go and ask them 
 for money right off. You must apply to money-lenders 
 or bill-discounters, and, as you've no solid security to 
 offer, you're obliged to deal with usurers. Oh ! I know 
 some old misers, old rascals who'd be delighted to have 
 you in their clutches, or else would chuck you out like 
 dangerous beggars." 
 
 As Fine listened to her uncle, all these money questions 
 got rather mixed in her young head. She was so frank, 
 so open-hearted, that it seemed to her quite natural 
 and easy to ask for and obtain a large sum in a couple 
 of hours. There are millionaires who can so easily dispose 
 of a few thousand francs without inconveniencing them- 
 selves. She therefore persisted. 
 
 "Come, think well," she said again, to the gaoler. "Do 
 you really know of nobody we might apply to ? " 
 
 Revertegat, greatly affected, looked at her anxious face, 
 He would rather not have laid bare the unsavoury realities 
 of life before this young creature, full of the hopes of 
 youth. 
 
 " No, really," he replied, " I know of no one. I have 
 spoken to you of old rascals who have shamelessly made 
 large fortunes. They, like Rostand, lend a hundred francs 
 to receive a hundred and fifty at the end of three months." 
 
 He hesitated, and then went on in a lower tone of 
 voice: "Shall I relate to you the history of one of these 
 men? His name is Roumieu, and he's a retired notary. 
 His game was to prosecute a terrible chase after inheri- 
 tances. He would introduce himself into families, where 
 his calling should have made him a confidant and friend, 
 and there study the ground and prepare his ambuscades.
 
 9 8 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Whenever he came across a weak-minded person who 
 had property to leave, he became his creature, circumvented 
 him, and drew him gradually into his meshes by obse- 
 quiousness and blandishments, by quite a clever comedy 
 of little attentions and filial tenderness. Ah ! he was a 
 clever fellow ! You should have seen him fascinate his 
 prey, making himself supple and winning, gaining a hold 
 on the affections of some old man. He ousted the natural 
 heirs, the nephews and cousins, by degrees, and then drew 
 up a new will which despoiled them of their relative's 
 fortune and appointed him sole legatee. But he never 
 hurried matters, he would take ten years to reach his 
 goal, to mature things thoroughly; he advanced with 
 feline craftiness, creeping along in the dark, never springing 
 upon his prey until it lay panting, rendered inert by his 
 gaze and caresses. He hunted inheritances like the tiger 
 hunts game, with noiseless cruelty and a ferocity hidden 
 behind smirks and smiles." 
 
 Fine fancied she was being told a story out of the 
 Arabian Nights. She listened to her uncle, her eyes wide 
 open with astonishment. Marius was becoming familiar 
 with base actions. 
 
 " And you say this man made a large fortune ? " he 
 asked the gaoler. 
 
 "Yes," the latter replied. "There are some strange 
 stories told which prove Roumieu's amazing cleverness. 
 For instance, ten or fifteen years ago, he worked his way 
 into the good graces of an old lady who possessed a 
 fortune of close upon five hundred thousand francs. It 
 was quite a conquest. The old lady became his slave, 
 almost to the point of refusing herself a crust of bread in 
 order not to encroach upon the wealth she wished to 
 leave to this demon, who possessed her like a devil and 
 obtained complete mastery over her. She was indeed 
 possessed in the true sense of the word; all the holy 
 water of a church would not have been sufficient to cast 
 him out. A visit from Roumieu would plunge her into 
 endless ecstasy. When he bowed to her in the street 
 it was as though she had received a shock, she became 
 quite red with joy. One has never been able to understand
 
 TWO SHAMELESS CHARACTERS. 99 
 
 by what flattery, by what skilful and irresistible advance 
 the notary had been able to penetrate so deeply into this 
 heart which was closed by the most exaggerated piety. 
 When the old lady died, she despoiled her direct heirs 
 and left her five hundred thousand francs to Roumieu. 
 Everybody expected this would happen." 
 
 After a pause, Revertegat went on : 
 
 " Listen, I can give you another instance. The anecdote 
 contains quite a cruel comedy, in which Roumieu gave 
 proof of rare artfulness. A man named Richard, who had 
 amassed several hundred thousand francs in business, retired, 
 and went to live with a worth v couple who nursed him 
 and enlivened his old age. In exchange for their affec- 
 tionate attentions, the retired merchant had promised to 
 leave them his fortune. They lived on in this expectation ; 
 they had several children whom they hoped to establish 
 well in life. But Roumieu happened to pass by, and soon 
 became Richard's intimate friend; he would take him 
 occasionally into the country, and secretly obtained complete 
 mastery over him. The family which had received the 
 retired merchant suspected nothing; they continued to 
 nurse him and await the inheritance. 
 
 " During fifteen years they lived thus, quite easy in 
 their minds, forming plans for the future, and feeling 
 certain of being happy and rich. Richard died, and on 
 the morrow Roumieu was found to have inherited his 
 property, to the great surprise and grief of this family, 
 swindled both in its affections and its interest." 
 
 " Such is the hunter after inheritances. When he moves 
 one cannot hear the sound of his claws upon the ground ; 
 his bounds are too rapid to be measured : he has already 
 sucked his prey dry before ho has been observed to be 
 upon it." 
 
 Fine felt filled with disgust. 
 
 " No, no," she said, " I will never go and ask money 
 of such a man. Don't you know another, uncle?" 
 
 "All usurers are alike, my poor child," replied the 
 gaoler; "they all have some indelible stain on their lives. 
 I know an old skinflint who has more than a million, 
 and \vlio lives alone in a dirtv tumble-down house. Guil-
 
 100 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 laume buries himself out of sight in his foul den. The 
 damp is rotting the walls; the floor is not even paved, 
 but is a sort of muck-heap consisting of mud and filth; 
 cobwebs hang from the ceiling, the dust lies thick over 
 everything, while a dull lugubrious light penetrates through 
 the window-panes which are coated thick with dirt. The old 
 miser seems to sleep amidst impurities, like the waiting 
 spider sleeps in the centre of his web on tire beam. 
 When some prey becomes entangled in the nets he has 
 spread, he draws it to him and sucks it dry of its life's 
 blood. His food consists solely of vegetables cooked in 
 plain water, and he never satisfies his hunger. He clothes 
 himself in rags and leads the life of a leprous beggar. 
 And all this is for the sake of keeping the money he has 
 already accumulated, and of adding unceasingly to his 
 store. He only lends at cent per cent." 
 
 Fine turned pale at the picture her uncle was setting 
 before her. 
 
 " Guillaume has friends, however, who extol his piety," 
 continued the gaoler. " He believes in neither Heaven 
 nor Hell, and would sell the Saviour a second time if he 
 had the opportunity; but he has been clever enough to 
 sham great devoutness, and this piece of acting has won 
 him the esteem of certain narrow minds. He may be met 
 dragging himself about the churches, kneeling behind every 
 pillar, using gallons of holy water. 
 
 " Inquire throughout the town, ask anyone what good 
 action this saintly person has ever done. He worships the 
 Almighty, it is said; but he robs his fellow-man. It's 
 impossible to name a single creature he has ever assisted. 
 He lends at an usurious rate, he has never given a copper 
 in charity. Were some poor wretch to be dying at his 
 door,, he wouldn't take him a crust of bread nor a glass 
 of water. If he enjoys any kind of esteem, it's because 
 he has stolen it, the same as everything else he possesses." 
 
 Revertegat stopped and looked at his niece, scarcely 
 knowing whether he should continue. 
 
 " And you would be simple enough to apply to such a 
 man?" said he at last. "I cannot tell you everything, I 
 cannot speak of his vices, for the old scoundrel has ignoble
 
 IN WHICH THERE IS A GLIMMER OF HOPE. IOI 
 
 ones. At times, he forgets his avarice to satisfy his lust. 
 There are shocking stories told of him 
 
 " Enough ! " cried Marius energetically. 
 
 Fine, confused and dismayed, bowed her head, having 
 lost all courage and hope. 
 
 "I see money is too dear," the young man resumed, 
 " and that one must sell oneself to obtain it. Ah ! if I 
 only had the time to earn the sum we require by hard 
 work ! " 
 
 Then all three remained silent, unable to find a means 
 of salvation. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 IN WHICH THERE IS A GLIMMER OF HOPE. 
 
 THE following morning, Marius, urged on by necessity, 
 decided on calling on M. de Girousse. 
 
 He had been thinking of applying to the old Count 
 ever since he had been in search of money, but had 
 always refrained from doing so on account of the noble- 
 man's original bluntness. He felt ashamed to own his 
 poverty and blushed at the thought of having to confess 
 to what use he proposed putting the amount he was asking 
 for. Nothing seemed more painful to him than to be 
 compelled to take any third party into his confidence in 
 regard to his brother's escape, and M. de Girousse frightened 
 him more than anyone else. 
 
 When the young man called, the mansion was closed, 
 the Count having just left for Lambesc. His errand was 
 so disagreeable to him that he was almost glad at finding 
 no one at home. He remained on the Cours irresolute, 
 not daring to go to Lambesc and in despair at being reduced 
 to inaction. 
 
 As he advanced along one of the paths quite upset and 
 with his eyes wandering vaguely about him, he met Fine. 
 It was seven o'clock in the morning. The flower-girl with 
 her best clothes on, had a small travelling bag in her hand 
 and appeared all smiles and determination.
 
 102 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 "Where are you off to?" he inquired, with surprise. 
 
 "I am going to Marseilles," she answered. 
 
 He looked at her curiously, asking for an explanation 
 with his eyes. 
 
 "I can tell you nothing," she continued. "I have a 
 plan, but am afraid of failure. I shall return to-night. 
 Come, never despair ! " 
 
 Marius accompanied Fine to the diligence. When the 
 heavy vehicle set out, he followed it for a long time with 
 his eyes ; this carriage bore away his last hope and would 
 bring him back joy or anguish. Up to the evening he 
 watched all the diligences coming in, until at length there 
 remained only one to arrive, and Fine had not yet returned. 
 
 The young man, devoured by impatience, walked ner- 
 vously backward and forward, trembling lest the flower- 
 girl should not return until the following day. In his 
 trouble as to what this last attempt might be, he felt he 
 had not the courage to pass another whole night of un- 
 certainty and anxiety. He walked about the Cours shivering, 
 and a prey to a sort of nightmare. 
 
 At last, he perceived the diligence in the distance in 
 the centre of the Rotonde Square. When he heard the 
 wheels rumbling on the stones his heart beat violently. He 
 set his back against a tree and watched the travellers 
 stepping out one by one. 
 
 All at once he felt as if rooted to the spot. He had 
 seen the tall form and sad, pale face of Abbe Chastanier 
 appear at one of the open doors of the vehicle, almost 
 opposite to him. When the abbe was on the pavement 
 he extended his hand and helped out a young lady who 
 was none other than Mademoiselle Blanche de Cazalis. 
 
 Fine lightly sprang to the ground behind her, without 
 making use of the step. She was beaming with smiles. 
 
 The two travellers, guided by Fine, went off in the 
 direction of the Hotel des Princes. Marius, who had remained 
 in the shades of early evening, followed them in a mechanical 
 manner, at a loss to understand, as if stultified. 
 
 Fine remained ten minutes in the hotel at most. As 
 she left she caught sight of the young man, and ran towards 
 him in a fit of delight.
 
 IN WHICH THERE IS A GLIMMER OF HOPE. 103 
 
 " I succeeded in bringing them here," she exclaimed 
 clapping her hands ; and now I trust they will obtain what 
 I want. To-morrow we shall be fixed." 
 
 Then she took Marius' arm and gave him an account 
 of her journey. 
 
 The previous evening she had been struck by something 
 the young man had said about regretting he had not the 
 time before him to earn the amount he required by work. 
 On the other hand the anecdotes her uncle had related, 
 had shown her that it would be impossible to find a 
 money-lender or usurer disposed to be reasonable. The 
 matter was therefore reduced to one of gaining time, of 
 delaying as long as possible the moment when Philippe 
 would be attached to the pilory. What terrified them was 
 this public exhibition, and the infamy it carried with it, 
 by handing over the condemned to the sneers and insults 
 of the mob. 
 
 From that moment the young girl's plan was formed ; 
 it was a bold plan which would perhaps succeed by 
 reason of its audacity. Her intention had been to go 
 straight to M. Cazalis' to penetrate as far as his niece 
 and describe the picture of the public exhibiton of Philippe, 
 pointing out how insulting such a sight would be for her. 
 She would persuade her to lend assistance and both 
 would go and implore the deputy to intercede. If M. de 
 Cazalis would not consent to ask for pardon he would 
 perhaps try to obtain a postponement. 
 
 Fine, however, did not reason out her plans. It seemed 
 to her impossible that Blanche's uncle could resist her 
 tears. She had faith in her devotedness. 
 
 The poor child was dreaming with her eyes wide open 
 in hoping that M. de Cazalis would relent at the last 
 moment. This proud and obstinate man had meant to 
 cover Philippe with infamy, and he would have allowed no 
 obstacle to be placed in the way of his vengeance. Had 
 she found herself in his path she would have been crushed, 
 she would have expended her brightest smiles and most 
 .touching tears in pure loss. 
 
 Fortunately for her she was assisted by circumstances. 
 When she called at the dcputv's mansion on the Cours
 
 104 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 > 
 
 Bonaparte, she was informed that M. de Cazalis had just 
 left for Paris on business connected with his political 
 position. She then asked to see Mademoiselle Blanche 
 and was told, in a sort of vague manner, that the young 
 lady was absent, that she was travelling. 
 
 The flower-girl felt very much embarrassed, but she 
 was obliged to withdraw and to go and think matters 
 over in the street. All her plans were upset, this absence 
 of the uncle and niece deprived her of the support on 
 which she had relied, and she had not a single friend to 
 whom she could appeal. She was determined, however, 
 that she would not lose her last hope and return to Aix 
 as sick at heart as on the previous evening, after having 
 made a useless journey. 
 
 All at once she thought of Abbe Chastanier. Marius 
 had often spoken to her of the old priest. She knew 
 how good and devoted he was. Perhaps he might be 
 able to give her some valuable information. 
 
 She found him at the house of his sister, the old 
 invalided workwoman, and unbosoming herself to him, 
 explained in a few words the reason of her journey to 
 Marseilles. The priest listened to her with lively concern. 
 
 " It is heaven that has sent you here," he answered. 
 " I think, under circumstances such as these, that I may 
 violate the secret that has been entrusted to me. Made- 
 moiselle Blanche is not travelling. Her uncle, wishing to 
 hide her condition and being unable to take her to Paris, 
 has rented a cottage for her in the village of Saint Henri. 
 She is living there with a companion. M. de Cazalis, who 
 has received me back into his good graces and begged me 
 to visit her frequently, has given me considerable power 
 over her. Shall I take you to this poor child, whom you 
 will find very much altered and broken down?" 
 
 Fine accepted joyfully. 
 
 Blanche turned quite pale when she saw the flower-girl, 
 and began to shed warm tears. There was a large bluish 
 circle round her eyes, the blood had fled from her lips 
 and her cheeks were like white wax. One saw that a 
 terrible cry, the cry of truth, rose within her and made 
 her stagger.
 
 A RESPITE. 105 
 
 When Fine, in a sweet voice, accompanied by tender 
 caresses, had made her understand that she could perhaps 
 save Philippe from supreme humiliation, she stood straight 
 up, and said in a broken voice: 
 
 " I am ready, dispose of me. I hear a child speaking 
 to me unceasingly of its father. I would fain appease 
 the anger of this poor little creature which is yet unborn." 
 
 "Well," continued Fine, warmly, " assist us in our work 
 of deliverance. I am certain you will obtain at least a 
 respite if you make the attempt." 
 
 "But," observed Abbe Chastanier, "Mademoiselle Blanche 
 cannot go to Aix alone. I must accompany her. I know 
 that if M. de Cazalis hears of this journey, he will load 
 me with bitter reproaches. I accept, however, the re- 
 sponsibility of what I am doing, in the belief that I am 
 acting as an upright man." 
 
 As soon as the ilower-girl had obtained this consent, 
 she hardly allowed the old man and young girl sufficient 
 time to get a few things together for the journey. She 
 returned to Marseilles with them, pushed them into the 
 diligence and it was thus that she brought them triumphantly 
 into Aix. 
 
 The following day Blanche was to pay a visit to the 
 President of the bench of judges who had passed sentence 
 on Philippe. 
 
 When Fine had concluded her story, Marius embraced 
 her warmly on both checks, a proceeding that made a 
 bloom of pink overspread the young girl's forehead. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 A RESPITE. 
 
 FIXE called on Blanche and Abbe Chastanier the 
 next morning. She wished to accompany them to the 
 door of the President's residence, so as to learn the result 
 of their application without a moment's delay. 
 
 Marius, who understood that his presence would be 
 painful to Mademoiselle de Cazalis, began strolling about
 
 106 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 the Cours like a soul in trouble, and followed the priest 
 and two young girls at a distance. When the supplicants 
 had gone upstairs, the flower-girl perceived the young man 
 and signed to him to come and join her. They both 
 waited, agitated and anxious, without exchanging a word. 
 
 The President received Blanche with great commiseration. 
 He understood that she had received the cruellest of blows 
 in this unfortunate business. The poor child could not 
 speak; at the first words she began to sob, and all her 
 supplicating being begged for pity, infinitely better than 
 her prayers could have done. 
 
 It was Abbe Chastanier who had to explain their 
 presence and present their petition. 
 
 "Sir," said he to the President, "we come with joined 
 hands. Mademoiselle de Cazalis is already broken down 
 by the misfortunes that have overwhelmed her. She 
 implores you for pity's sake to spare her fresh humiliation." 
 
 " What would you have me do ? " inquired the President 
 in an unsteady voice. 
 
 "We desire, if it be possible, that you will prevent a 
 fresh scandal. M. Philippe Cayol has been sentenced to 
 be publicly exhibited, and he is to undergo this punishment 
 within the next few days. But the infamy will not attain 
 him alone; it will not be a case of one culprit being 
 fastened to the pillory, there will be a poor suffering child 
 who now implores your pity. You understand, do you 
 not? The yells and insults of the mob will recoil on 
 Mademoiselle de Cazalis ; she will be dragged in the mud 
 by the people, and her name will be passed from mouth 
 to mouth around the abominable post, with sneers of 
 hatred and foul expressions." 
 
 The President seemed deeply affected. He preserved 
 silence for a moment. Then, as if struck with a sudden 
 idea, he inquired, 
 
 " But, was it M . de Cazalis who sent you here ? Is he 
 aware of the steps you are taking?" 
 
 " No," replied the priest with frank dignity, " M. de 
 Cazalis does not know we are here. Men have interests, 
 passions that bear them along, and which sometimes 
 prevent them forming a clear judgment as to their position.
 
 A RESPITE. 107 
 
 Perhaps we are acting contrary to the wish of Mademoiselle 
 de Cazalis' uncle, in coming to solicit you. But above 
 the passions and interests of men, are goodness and justice. 
 And so I do not fear to place my sacred character in 
 jeopardy, by taking upon myself to ask you to be good 
 and just." 
 
 " You are right, sir," said the President. " I understand 
 the motives that brought you here; and, as you see, I am 
 deeply affected by your words. Unfortunately I cannot 
 prevent the punishment, it is not within my power to 
 modify a sentence of a Court of Assizes." 
 
 Blanche joined her hands. 
 
 "Sir," she stammered, "I know not what you can do 
 for me ; but, I implore you to be merciful ; say to yourself 
 that it is I whom you have sentenced, and endeavour to 
 ease my sufferings." 
 
 The President took her hands, and answered her with 
 parental tenderness. 
 
 " My poor child, I understand everything. The part 
 I have played in this affair has been a painful one. At 
 this moment I am in despair at not being able to say to 
 you: 'Fear nothing, I have the power to overthrow the 
 pillory, and you shall not be attached to the post with 
 the condemned man.' " 
 
 "Then," asked the dejected priest, " the exhibition will 
 take place shortly ? You are not even allowed to delay 
 this deplorable scene?" 
 
 The President had risen. 
 
 "The Minister of Justice," he said, "can put it off at 
 the request of the crown advocate. Will you have this 
 exhibition take place at the end of December? I shall 
 be glad to give you a proof of my compassion and 
 good will." 
 
 "Yes, yes," exclaimed Blanche, warmly. "Delay the 
 terrible moment as long as possible. I shall perhaps feel 
 stronger." 
 
 Abbe Chastanier who knew what Marias' projects 
 were, thought that in presence of the President's promise, 
 he ought to retire without insisting further. So he joined 
 Blanche in accepting the offer made them.
 
 108 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " Very well, that is understood," said the President, 
 accompanying them to the door, " I shall make the request, 
 and I feel sure it will be granted, that justice shall not 
 take its course before the expiration of four months. 
 Until then rest in peace, Mademoiselle. Hope, heaven 
 will perhaps send you some balm to your wounds." 
 
 The two supplicants proceeded downstairs. 
 
 As soon as Fine perceived them she ran to meet them. 
 
 " Well ? " she inquired, panting for breath. 
 
 "As I told you," answered Abbe Chastanier, "the 
 President cannot prevent the execution of the sentence." 
 
 The flower-girl turned quite pale. 
 
 " But," the old priest hastened to add, " he has promised 
 to intercede and to have the date of the exhibition 
 adjourned. You have four months before you to labour 
 for the prisoner's welfare." 
 
 Marius had approached the little group formed by the 
 two young girls and the abbe, in spite of his desire to 
 stand aloof. The silent, solitary street appeared quite 
 white in the intense heat of the noonday sun; grass had 
 sprung up between the bright paving stones, and a dog, 
 that was giving an airing to its lean spine in the narrow 
 streak of shade which fell from the houses, was the only 
 other living thing about. When the young man heard 
 the words that fell from Abbe Chastanier, he rushed 
 forward and grasped his hands effusively. 
 
 "Ah! my father," he exclaimed in a trembling voice, 
 " you have brought me back hope and faith. Since yesterday 
 I had been doubting Providence. How can I thank you, 
 how can I prove to you my gratitude? Now I feel 
 possessed of invincible courage, I am certain of saving 
 my brother." 
 
 Blanche, at the sight of Marius, had hung her head. 
 A warm blush had suffused her cheeks. She stood there 
 confused and embarrassed, suffering horridly at the presence 
 of this youth, who was aware of her perjury, and whom 
 her uncle and she had plunged into despair. When the 
 young man's joy had somewhat subsided, he regretted 
 he had approached . The despairing attitude of Mademoiselle 
 de Cazalis aroused his pity.
 
 A RESPITE. 109 
 
 "My brother has been very guilty," he said to her at 
 last. "Pardon him as I pardon you." 
 
 These few words were all he could find. He would 
 have liked to have spoken to her of her child, to have 
 questioned her as to the lot reserved to this poor little 
 creature, to have claimed it in the name of Philippe; but 
 he saw her so bowed down, that he dared not torture her 
 further. 
 
 Fine doubtless understood what was passing within him. 
 While he walked a few steps with Abbe Chastanier, she 
 said rapidly to Blanche: 
 
 " Remember that I offered you to be a mother to your 
 child. Now, I love you, for I see you have a good heart. 
 Make a sign and I'll hasten to your assistance. But apart 
 from that, I shall be on the watch, for the little creature 
 must not suffer from the folly of its parents." 
 
 Blanche's only answer was to silently squeeze the flower- 
 girl's hand. Big tears were trickling down her cheeks. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Cazalis and Abbe Chastanier re- 
 turned at once to Marseilles. Fine and Marius hastened 
 to the gaol. They told Revertegat that they had four 
 months to prepare the escape, and the gaoler swore he 
 would abide by his word, on whatever day and hour they 
 might remind him of it. 
 
 The two young people desired to see Philippe before 
 leaving Aix, so as to let him know what had taken place 
 and tell him to have hope. At eleven o'clock in the 
 evening Revertegat conducted them again to the cell. 
 
 Philippe, who was becoming accustomed to the prison 
 regulations, did not seem particularly depressed. 
 
 " Provided I am spared the disgrace of the public 
 exhibition," he said to them, " I will consent to everything. 
 I would rather break my head open against a wall, than 
 be fastened to the post of infamy." 
 
 And the following day the diligence brought Marius and 
 Fine back to Marseilles. They were about to continue 
 the struggle to which their hearts urged them, on a much 
 larger scale than before; they were about to dive to the 
 bottom of human misery and behold the bare wounds of 
 a great city abandoned to all the passions of modern industry.
 
 part IL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 M. SAUVAIRE, THE MASTER STEVEDORE. 
 
 CADET COUGOURDAN'S employer, the master stevedore 
 Sauvaire, was a short, lively, dark man with thickset 
 powerful limbs. His great hooked nose, thin lips and 
 elongated visage, were expressive of that vain-glorious 
 confidence and artful bragging which are the distinctive 
 features of certain types in the south of France. 
 
 Brought up in the port, a simple labourer in his youth, 
 he had saved up his earnings for ten years. He raised 
 enormous weights and was possessed of vigorous strength 
 that did wonders. He was in the habit of saying he did 
 not fear big men. 
 
 The truth was that this dwarf could have thrashed a 
 giant. But he displayed prudence and wisdom in the 
 use he made of his power, avoiding quarrels, knowing 
 that the tension of his muscles was worth money, and 
 that a blow with the fist only brings trouble. He lived 
 soberly, given up entirely to work and avarice, impatient 
 to attain the end he dreamed of. 
 
 At last he had before him the few thousand francs he 
 required to accomplish his object. He became a master 
 from one day to another, took men into his employ, and 
 with folded arms watched them toiling and perspiring. 
 From time to time he gave them a little help with a 
 grumble. 
 
 Sauvaire, at the bottom, was a downright lazy fellow; 
 he had worked out of obstinacy, preferring to perform his 
 life's task at one go-off and rest later on in the comfortable
 
 M. SAUVAIRE, THE MASTER STEVEDORE. I I I 
 
 indolence of a wealthy man. Now that he had poor 
 wretches to win him a fortune, he walked about with his 
 hands in his pockets, piling up money, waiting until he 
 had amassed a large sum to satisfy his instincts of free 
 and noisy life. 
 
 Little by little the avaricious workman became transformed 
 into a wealthy prodigal. Sauvaire was possessed of a 
 tremendous appetite for wealth and pleasure : he wished 
 to have plenty of money in order to enjoy himself beyond 
 measure, and he desired to do that, so as to show he had 
 plenty of money. He was urged on by the vanity of 
 a parvenu to make his pleasures fiendishly riotous. When 
 he laughed he insisted on all Marseilles hearing his peal 
 of merriment. 
 
 He now wore clothes fashioned out of fine cloth, under 
 which it was easy to distinguish the stiff limbs of the 
 former workman. A heavy gold chain was spread out 
 across his waistcoat, it was as thick as one's finger and 
 from it hung a bunch of massive charms which seemed 
 almost sufficient to stun an ox. On the left hand he 
 wore a gold ring without any stone. With patent leather 
 shoes on his feet and a soft felt hat on his head he sauntered 
 up and down the Cannebiere and round about the Port 
 all day, smoking a magnificent meerschaum pipe mounted 
 in silver; and, as he walked along he made the charms 
 dance on his stomach, while his eyes wandered over the 
 crowd with a half-bantering, half-kindly expression. He 
 was enjoying himself. 
 
 Sauvaire had, little by little, entrusted the management 
 of his business to Cadet Cougourdan, whose smart manners 
 pleased him: this youth of twenty summers was gifted 
 with an upright and candid mind that gave him positive 
 superiority over the other stevedores. The master was 
 delighted at having such a workman at his elbow; he 
 appointed him overseer of the men working for him, and 
 from that moment was able to make a grand display in 
 Marseilles of his natural desires. He limited his work to 
 making up his accounts in the morning and pocketing the 
 money that had been earned. 
 
 The existence he had been dreamine of commenced.
 
 112 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Sauvaire became a member of a club. He gambled, but 
 prudently, being of opinion that the pleasure derived from 
 the card-table is not worth what it costs ; he wanted his 
 money's worth of amusement and he therefore sought 
 after substantial and lasting enjoyment. He dined at the 
 best eating-houses, and associated with ladies whom he 
 showed off in public. His vanity was deliciously tickled 
 when he was able to lounge on the cushions of a carriage 
 beside a huge silk skirt. The lady was nothing, the silk 
 gown all. He dragged it into private dining-rooms and 
 there threw the windows open, so that all the passers-by 
 might see that he was having a rare time with a well- 
 dressed lady, and ordering expensive dishes. Others would 
 have closed the shutters and bolted the door; his dream 
 was to kiss his fair companions in a glass house, so that 
 the multitude might know that he was wealthy enough 
 to love such pretty creatures. He had his own idea of love. 
 
 For a month he had been living in rapture. He had 
 met a young woman whose acquaintance tickled his self- 
 esteem. This young person was protected by a Count 
 and was looked upon as one of the Queens of the demi- 
 monde at Marseilles. She called herself Therese-Armande 
 but was better known by the familiar name of Armande. 
 
 When Armande placed her little gloved hand in Sauvaire's 
 huge paw for the first time, the master-stevedore almost 
 fainted with delight. This pressure of the hand was ex- 
 changed in the Alices de Meilhan, opposite the door of 
 the house where the lorette resided, and the passers-by 
 stopped and turned round, at the sight of this man and 
 young woman, smiling and bowing to each other. Sauvaire 
 went off bursting with pride, and in ecstasies about Armande's 
 dress and superior manners. He had but one thought : that 
 of protecting this person himself, supplanting the Count 
 and walking about with lace and velvet leaning on his arm. 
 
 He watched for Armande and placed himself in her 
 path. He fell in love with the luxuriant finery she wore, 
 and the perfumery that escaped from her clothes. He 
 was proud at getting a bow from her, at appearing to be 
 one of her friends, and it would certainly not have displeased 
 him to have been thought one of her lovers.
 
 M. SAUVAIRE, THE MASTER STEVEDORE. I 15 
 
 At length she succumbed. He thought it a victory due 
 to the charms of his person. For a week his conceit was 
 unbearable. He went about casting a look of mocking 
 pity on the people he met in the street. When Armande 
 was leaning on his arm the pavement seemed too small 
 for him. The gentle swaying to and fro in the lady's 
 gait, the frou-frou of her skirts threw him into a delicious 
 reverie. He was very fond of crinolines which take up a 
 great deal of room and interfere with pedestrian traffic. 
 
 He related his good fortune to everyone. Cadet was 
 one of his first confidents. 
 
 " Ah ! If you only knew ! " he said to him, " the 
 charming person, and how she adores me! She has 
 everything imaginable at her place, carpets, curtains, glasses. 
 You would think yourself in high society, 'pon my word ! 
 And with all that, not in the least proud, a good-natured 
 girl with her hand always open. Yesterday I lunched in 
 her small drawing-room, and we then took an open 
 carriage and drove to the Prado. Everyone was staring 
 at us. It is enough to make you die of joy to be in 
 such a woman's society." 
 
 Cadet smiled. His dream was to be loved by a robust 
 girl, and in his eyes Armande had all the appearance of 
 a mechanical doll, of a brittle toy, which he would have 
 broken between his fingers. But he did not wish to annoy 
 his employer, and so he went into ecstasies with him over 
 the lorette's charms. In the evening he gave Fine an 
 account of Sauvaire's follies. 
 
 The (lower-girl had resumed her place in her little kiosk 
 on the Cours St. Louis. While selling her flowers, she kept 
 her eyes on the alert, in search of opportunities to come to 
 Manns' assistance. She had not lost sight of the loan of 
 fifteen thousand francs and each day she built up a new plan 
 dreaming of taxing those whom chance brought near her. 
 
 "Do you think," she inquired one morning of her brother, 
 "that M. Sauvaire is a man to lend money?" 
 
 "That's according to circumstances," answered Cadet. 
 " He would willingly give a thousand francs ti a poor 
 devil on a public square, before a crowd of people, to 
 make an exhibition of kind heartedness. "
 
 114 TH E MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES- 
 
 The flower-girl laughed. 
 
 "Oh! It's not charity that is wanted," she answered. 
 " The lender's left hand must ignore what is done by his 
 right." 
 
 "The deuce!" said Cadet. "That is too disinterested. 
 However, one can see." 
 
 On the basis of these few words of conversation Fine 
 elaborated quite a scheme. She believed Sauvaire was 
 very wealthy, and she did not take him for an ill-natured 
 man at heart. It would, perhaps, be possible to get 
 something out of him by making use of Armande's 
 influence. 
 
 The flower-girl understood that she must first of all 
 persuade Marius to call on the lorette. That was the 
 difficult part of the business. The young man would 
 firmly refuse, would say that there could be nothing in 
 common between him and this woman. 
 
 One day she let Armande's name escape her as if by 
 accident, and was very much surprised to see Marius 
 smile and appear to know all about her. 
 
 "Are you acquainted with the lady?" she inquired. 
 
 " I went to see her once," he answered. " It was Philippe 
 who took me there. This lady, as you term her, threw 
 open her reception-rooms to her friends once a week, and 
 my brother was one of the frequenters of the place. Faith, 
 I was very well received and found a charming hostess 
 there, who was exceedingly ladylike and very elegant." 
 
 Fine seemed quite sad to hear Marius sing Armande's 
 praises. 
 
 " It appears," he continued, "that things have somewhat 
 changed at her place during the past year. They tell me 
 her affairs are very much involved. However, they say 
 she is extremely clever, and has a talent for intrigue; if 
 she should happen to come across a simpleton she will 
 easily get out of her difficulties." 
 
 The young girl had recovered from the strange emotion 
 that had got the better of her. She adroitly continued 
 to put her plan into execution without undue haste. 
 
 "The simpleton is found," she said, laughing. "Don't 
 you know M. Sauvaire, Cadet's principal?"
 
 M. SAUVAIRE, THE MASTER STEVEDORE. I 1 5 
 
 "Slightly," answered Marius, "I have sometimes met 
 him walking about the old port in slippers." 
 
 "Well, he has been Armande's lover for the last few 
 months, and they pretend he has already spent some 
 money with her." 
 
 Then Fine added in an indifferent tone of voice : 
 
 "Why don't you go and see Armande again? You 
 would meet wealthy people there who might assist you in 
 the affair in question. M. Sauvaire would perhaps be 
 disposed to help you." 
 
 Marius became serious and for a moment was silent. He 
 was thinking. 
 
 " Pooh ! " he exclaimed at last, " I must not flinch at 
 anything. I shall have to call and see that person to-mor- 
 row. I will explain my visit by speaking of my brother." 
 
 The flower-girl looked the young man in the face with 
 quivering eyelids. 
 
 " And above all," she continued, with a forced laugh, 
 "don't go and remain at the feet of the enchantress. I 
 have often heard tell of her costly and clever style of 
 dress, of her wit, and the strange power she exercises 
 over men." 
 
 Marius, who was astonished at his friend's unsteady 
 voice, took her hand and examined her with his penetrat- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 " What is the matter with you? " he inquired. " Anyone 
 would think I was going to see the devil, and that I am 
 a sinner. Ah ! my dear Fine, I am far from thinking of 
 such nonsense. I have a solemn task to perform. Besides, 
 look at me well. What woman would care for such a 
 baboon ? " 
 
 The young girl gazed at him, and was quite surprised 
 to find him no longer ugly. Formerly he had seemed 
 frightful ; now she perceived something like light burst 
 from his countenance and transform his features. The 
 young man pressed her hand amicably and she remained 
 quite troubled. 
 
 The following evening Marius called on Armando in 
 accordance with his determination.
 
 Il6 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A MARSEILLAISE LORETTE. 
 
 ARMANDE'S origin was shrouded in mystery. She pretended 
 she was born in India of a native woman and an English 
 officer. She started from that point and related a novel of 
 which she was the heroine, to anyone who would listen to it. 
 
 She made a wealthy protector who had taken care of 
 her at her father's death, responsible for her first fault. He 
 had brought her up in the greatest refinement on the 
 same principle as that of fattening a fowl in order that 
 it may make a more toothsome dish. She delighted in 
 relating this brutally romantic tale. 
 
 Thanks to her falsehoods her real history was never 
 known. She had one day swooped down on Marseilles, 
 just like those birds that scent a district rich in all kinds 
 of prey, from afar. In settling in a commercial centre, 
 she displayed extraordinary intelligence. 
 
 From the moment of her arrival she directed her bat- 
 teries against business men, young merchants who shovel 
 money about. She understood that these young sparks, 
 confined all day in their offices, were thirsting for amuse- 
 ment at night, and anxious to squander some of the cash 
 they have earned. 
 
 She set her snares with art. She began by starting her 
 establishment on an important footing, and giving it a sort 
 of aristocratic appearance. It was easy for her to vanquish 
 the rivals whom she found already settled in the city. 
 Those poor fallen daughters of Eve were grossly ignorant ; 
 they dressed badly, hardly knew how to speak, made a 
 wretched, mean show of luxury, and gave themselves 
 stupidly away. Armande crushed them with her elegance 
 and the wit she had picked up here and there in her 
 intercourse with persons in good station of life. In a 
 few months she became a sort of mundane celebrity. 
 
 At home, as Sauvaire had na'ively said, she gave herself 
 the airs of a duchess. She had displayed admirable taste 
 in furnishing her apartment.
 
 A MARSEILLAISE LORETTE. 117 
 
 She threw open her drawing-room, and while she attracted 
 the golden youth of the city by her noisy mode of life, 
 she retained them by her good graces and air of distinction. 
 You could hardly perceive, through the mistress of the 
 house, the lady of easy virtue. She had lovers and was 
 willing enough to show them off; but, in public and at 
 her evening parties, she maintained a decency of demeanour 
 for which they felt very grateful to her. She was the 
 emblem of vice witty, elegant, and perfumed. 
 
 Little by little she surrounded herself by most of the 
 fast men of the city, but she was careful only to receive 
 wealthy people, such as earned a great deal of money and 
 spent still more. At the commencement she had only to 
 choose her victims, a swarm being at her feet. She devoured 
 several fortunes with her sharp teeth, living in the utmost 
 luxury, and providing for all the requirements of her mode 
 of life, which were enormous. 
 
 Moral people looked on her as a regular pest, as a 
 bottomless pit in which the capital of the young commercial 
 men of Marseilles was being engulfed. Her rivals tore her 
 to bits and accused her of engaging in shameless intrigues ; 
 they made fun of her thin face, of the wrinkles come 
 before their time, said she was ugly, which was almost 
 true, and vowed they could not understand the infatuation 
 of those idiotic men for the creature. Armande let them 
 talk and quietly reigned. For several years she had 
 domineered over them by her mind, luxury and the science 
 of an elegant and refined woman. Men attended her recep- 
 tions in dress coats and white neckties. 
 
 Then, without any apparent cause, her credit was all 
 at once lost. Bad fortune came, and made holes in her 
 luxuriant existence. No doubt she had gone out of fashion 
 and generous protectors were scarce. She descended to 
 that semi-state of poverty which is attired in silk and 
 treads on carpets. Feeling she would roll into the gutter 
 if she did not make an effort to retain her grand apartment, 
 she struggled in desperation against her ill-luck. She 
 understood that her power of fascination came solely from 
 her apparent wealth, from her style of dress, from the 
 money which permitted her to act the part of a duchess
 
 Il8 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 beyond her sphere, at her ease. She knew that as soon 
 as she was out of silk and had closed her drawing-room, 
 she would become a poor girl, an ugly, faded creature 
 whom no one would have anything to do with, and she 
 displayed feverish energy to find protectors and procure 
 money at any cost. 
 
 It was at this time that she made the acquaintance of 
 a Madame Mercier, who advanced her money at an exorbitant 
 rate of interest. She had taken in so many young sim- 
 pletons, that she allowed herself to be imposed upon in 
 her turn without much ado. She hoped, however, to make 
 the first wealthy individual whom she came across, pay 
 the capital and interest of the money she had borrowed. 
 But men of wealth did not put in an appearance and she 
 became more and more anxious. 
 
 Urged on by necessity and feeling that her beauty, 
 which was her bread-winner, was leaving her day by day 
 with her luxury, she turned to crime. She had already 
 been obliged to sell looking-glasses, furniture, porcelain, 
 to satisfy the demands of her creditors; her apartment 
 was becoming stripped of everything; she saw the walls 
 getting bare, little by little, and thought, with a shudder, 
 of the day when she would find herself weary and old in 
 an empty room. The upholsterers, milliners, all the tradesmen 
 to whom she owed money, became more troublesome as 
 they detected their customer's approaching ruin : they knew 
 that protectors were becoming rare, and insisted on the 
 immediate payment of their claims. Some of them talked 
 of putting in the brokers. Armande therefore understood 
 that she was lost unless she found money at once no 
 matter how. 
 
 She had recourse to an extreme measure. She imitated 
 the writing of three or four of her lovers, and made out 
 acceptances in her own favour which she signed with these 
 person's names. Then, not daring to go to a banker, she 
 applied to Madame Mercier, who consented to discount 
 several of the bills. 
 
 It is probable that this female usurer was not ignorant 
 of their origin and that she even speculated on it. Holding 
 the young woman in her clutches, able at any moment to
 
 A MARSEILLAISE LORETTE. 119 
 
 lodge a complaint with the crown-attorney, relying, more- 
 over, on those whose names were on the bills, and 
 whose interest it was to avoid a scandal, she considered 
 the forgeries she held in guarantee, as preferable to genuine 
 bills. She based quite a fortune on her complacency, 
 exacting enormous interest, embroiling the lorette's affairs 
 more and more, making her provide for her completely, 
 acting a cunning and hypocritical part which she performed 
 to perfection. 
 
 Armande managed to get along for two years without 
 being disturbed. She had made the bills payable at her 
 residence, and provided the money for them when they 
 fell due at any cost, taking a hundred francs from the 
 first man she met, completing the amount by selling some- 
 thing, borrowing again and forging fresh bills. Madame 
 Mercier continued to be humble and obliging; she desired 
 to hold her prey in a close grip before showing her teeth 
 and biting. 
 
 Then the time came when Armande was positively 
 unable to meet the forged acceptances. She cast herself 
 into the gutter in vain. She went to the Chateau-des- 
 Fleurs and still could not make the money she required 
 to keep up her house. 
 
 It was just then that she made Sauvaire's acquaintance. 
 For him she dismissed a Count she had ruined, under the 
 impression that the master stevedore was rich and generous. 
 In other times when she was Queen of Marseilles and 
 insolently displayed her lace and velvet, she would have 
 gazed down on Sauvaire from the height of the wealth 
 and elegance of her admirers. But now there was no prey 
 that she disdained; she set her batteries against the crowd 
 and would willingly have received money from soiled hands. 
 The former workman mistook the dire necessity which 
 thrust the young woman into his arms, for tenderness. 
 After a few months she perceived with alarm, that her 
 new acquaintance had all the prudent, economical habits 
 of an upstart and that he spent all his money on himself 
 like an egotist. Two or three of the forged acceptances 
 were not met and Madame Mercier began to get angry. 
 
 Things were at that point when one evening Marius
 
 120 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 na'ively called. He expected to meet some of the numerous 
 wealthy company in her drawing-room to whom his brother 
 had introduced him. He had a vague idea of getting 
 intimate with some young business-man who would come 
 to his assistance ; and he relied in a measure on Sauvaire, 
 whose obliging disposition Fine had been careful to exaggerate. 
 
 He was very much astonished to find the drawing-room 
 empty. The large apartment was lit with a single lamp 
 and appeared particularly bare. Sauvaire was reclining 
 on a large divan and seemed to be making a great fuss 
 about digesting the dinner he had just eaten, undoing 
 some of the buttons of his waistcoat, and holding a tooth- 
 pick between his fingers. 
 
 Armande was seated beside him in an arm-chair, reading 
 Graziella, with her forehead resting dreamily on the palm 
 of her left hand. An Italian greyhound named Djali was 
 lying at her feet, with its head reposing on her cherry- 
 coloured slippers. 
 
 One of Armande's ways of seduction was to read the 
 works of great modern poets before her admirers. She 
 had a small bookcase containing the writings of Chateau- 
 briand, Victor Hugo, de Lamartine and Alfred de Musset. 
 
 In the evening, in the pale light of the lamp, at an 
 hour when she was still beautiful, she languidly spelt over 
 pages of verse or poetical prose. This placed a sort of 
 halo round her head. Her admirers thought they had an 
 ignorant girl to deal with, and they found an educated, 
 almost a lettered, lady, who read books that they had 
 never had either the time or energy to look into. 
 
 Sauvaire, especially, felt crushed and overshadowed on 
 the day when his lady friend took up a book of verses, 
 and quietly began turning over the pages of it before him. 
 It was a rare event with him when he glanced through 
 a newspaper. A woman opening a volume of poetry was 
 in his eyes a superior creature. Each time Armande read 
 in his presence he collected himself and looked affected 
 and charmed. It seemed to him that he was becoming 
 wise himself. 
 
 Marius slightly smiled when he saw Armande in an 
 inclined attitude feigning ecstasy, and the position Sauvaire
 
 A MARSEILLAISE LORETTE. 121 
 
 was in, lounging on the divan with his hands clasped 
 across his stomach. 
 
 The lorette welcomed the new-comer with her easy, 
 sprightly grace. She had been more or less intimately 
 connected with Philippe, and she treated Marius as an 
 old acquaintance. She asked him to be seated, and 
 reproached him with the rarity of his visits. 
 
 "I know very well," she added, "that you have had a 
 great deal of trouble lately. Poor Philippe ! I can fancy 
 sometimes that I see him in his damp prison, he who 
 was so fond of luxury and pleasure ' That will teach him 
 to place his affection in better hands." 
 
 Sauvaire had raised himself a little. One of his good 
 qualities was that he was not jealous; on the contrary 
 he showed himself quite proud of his companion's pest 
 admirers. The fondness which Armande had formerly 
 shown for others doubled, in his eyes, the value of his 
 good fortune. Besides, Marius seemed to him so small that 
 he was delighted to appear robust beside of him. 
 
 The young woman introduced the two men. 
 
 "Oh! We know each other," said the master stevedore, 
 with the laugh of a happy man. "I also know M. Philippe 
 Cayol. There's a fine fellow for you!" 
 
 The truth was that Sauvaire was delighted at being found 
 alone with Armande. He began to talk to her familiarly, 
 to lay stress on the pleasures they participated in together, 
 and then resumed speaking of Philippe: 
 
 "He often came to see you, didn't he? Ah! never mind, 
 don't protest. I think you were in love with each other. 
 I used to meet him sometimes at the Chateau-dcs-Fleurs. 
 We went there yesterday. Eh! my dear, what a crowd, 
 what dresses ! " 
 
 He turned to Marius. 
 
 "In the evening," he added, ''we supped at a restaurant. 
 It is very expensive. It is not everyone who can afford that." 
 
 Armande seemed to suffer. There was still some delicacy 
 about the woman. She looked at Marius, shrugged her 
 shoulders slightly, shot glances at him, scoffing at Sauvaire. 
 The latter remained imperturbable and stretched himself 
 out full of enjoyment.
 
 122 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Marius then guessed how much the lorette was embar- 
 rassed and tormented. He felt something like pity at the 
 sight of her deserted drawing-room, and when he under- 
 stood down what a frightfully steep incline this woman, 
 whom he had known happy and without a care, was 
 rolling, he regretted having called. 
 
 About ten o'clock he found himself alone with Sauvaire, 
 who began to give him an account of his good fortune 
 and joyous existence. 
 
 A servant had come to tell Armande that Madame 
 Mercier was in the ante-chamber and that she seemed 
 very angry. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 IN WHICH MADAME MERCIER SHOWS HER CLAWS. 
 
 MADAME MERCIER was a little round, fat old woman of 
 fifty, who was for ever tearfully complaining about the 
 hardness of the times. Attired in a gown of washed-out 
 printed calico, always with an old straw basket on her arm 
 which served as a safe, she trotted along with short steps 
 and the sly movements of a cat. She was humble and 
 wretched and gave herself poverty-stricken airs to make 
 people pity her. Her fresh complexion, and the wrinkles 
 on her face, resembling rolls of fat, were a standing protest 
 against the tears that inundated it at every moment. 
 
 This female usurer played her part admirably with 
 Armande. She first of all acted the good-natured woman. 
 She gained absolute control over her with an infernal kind 
 of art, showing herself in turn serviceable and egotistic,, 
 embroiling the accounts, allowing the interest to accumulate, 
 making it impossible for her debtor to verify anything. 
 
 Thus, when one of the acceptances fell due and Armande 
 was without funds to meet it, Madame Mercier was greatly 
 distressed, then she promised to borrow the money from 
 someone, vowing she had not got it herself. She advanced 
 the amount of the bill, but made the lorette immediately 
 reimburse her, and thus there was fresh interest to pay.
 
 MADAME MERCIER SHOWS HER CLAWS. I 2 3. 
 
 In all this coming and going of acceptances, in the constant 
 increase in the rate of discount, Armande had lost all 
 count of how she stood, what she had paid and what 
 she still owed. In the meantime the debt increased without 
 the usurer making any farther advances, and the older it 
 became the more obscure it got. The young woman felt 
 herself lost at the bottom of chaos. 
 
 The female usurer maintained her despairing and coaxing 
 manner. When she supplied money herself in order that 
 Armande might pay her, she made her feel all her devoted- 
 ness, all the heroism of her conduct. 
 
 "Eh? You have never seen a creditor like me," she 
 would say. " I even go so far as to borrow the money 
 you want. That is splendid, that is ! " 
 
 "But," answered Armande, "it's for yourself that you 
 borrow the money, as I give it you." 
 
 " Not at all," answered the old woman, " I am only 
 seeking to do you a service." 
 
 So Madame Mercier in this way introduced herself little 
 by little into the house. Every two or three clays, she 
 came and showed her cunning, coaxing face. Armande 
 became her property, her slave. Sometimes she arrived 
 all in a flutter, fell into a chair in despair and accused 
 the young woman of wanting to run away without paying 
 her ; it was necessary to take her over the apartment and 
 let her see that the trunks were not packed up. Sometimes 
 she rang violently at the door, said she had been robbed, 
 and reproached the lorette with her expenditure ; she 
 compared the one life with the other, accused her debtor 
 of being insolvent, and crippled with debt, and ended by 
 asking for fresh security. 
 
 At other moments she came suddenly and demanded 
 money; then she softened down, pleaded poverty, and on 
 leaving shuffled along in a most lamentable way. She 
 accompanied each of these visits with a deluge of tears.. 
 These came at her bidding, and she took advantage of 
 that circumstance to embarrass people. 
 
 Each complaint was followed by a sob. she twisted 
 herself about pitifully on a chair, uttering the least word 
 in a doleful tone of voice.
 
 124 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Armande, weary and bewildered, generally stood before 
 her without being able to pronounce a syllable. At times 
 she would have sacrificed everything: linen, gowns, furniture, 
 to have been freed from these continual lamentations. 
 
 The usurer invented another kind of persecution. She 
 would come with red eyes, declare she was in want of 
 bread, and was dying. The young woman, aggravated 
 and quite out of patience, would tell her to sit down and 
 eat. Sometimes she would shed streams of tears to get 
 sugar, coffee, or brandy. 
 
 "Alas! My dear lady," she snivelled, "I am very 
 unhappy. This morning I had to take my coffee without 
 sugar, and to-morrow I shall have neither sugar nor coffee. 
 Be charitable. It is you who have brought me to this; 
 if you were to give me my money, I should not be 
 obliged to come and beg. For pity's sake let me have a few 
 pounds of coffee and sugar. That will count for all the 
 services I have rendered you." 
 
 Armande did not dare refuse. She spent her last few 
 sous trembling in the presence of certain savage, bantering 
 looks of her creditor. If she happened to say she had 
 no money the usurer would answer, 
 
 " Very well, I shall present the bill you gave me to 
 your lover " 
 
 The other would not allow her to proceed any further. 
 She sent and sold something and purchased what her 
 tormentor required. The unfortunate girl closed her eyes 
 in order not to see the chasm gaping before her. 
 
 She belonged to this woman who held such terrible 
 proofs against her in her hands, and she obeyed her, 
 inwardly irritated, inquiring of herself with despair, by 
 what means she could escape from her claws. 
 
 Madame Mercier wept for nearly two years and extracted 
 from Armande all she could. She never went away with 
 empty hands. 
 
 The money she had lent her already brought her in 
 two hundred and fifty per cent. If the capital was com- 
 promised, the interest covered it two or three times over. 
 At last the usurer understood that she must change her 
 tactics. Armande could not receive her without a nervous
 
 MADAME MERCIER SHOWS HER CLAWS. 125 
 
 shudder which must inevitably bring about a crisis, 
 Besides, she had no money and she had twice firmly 
 refused to give her sugar. 
 
 From that moment the old woman resolved to weep 
 no more, but to have recourse to strong measures. It only 
 remained to her to play all for all, to exact immediate 
 payment of the arrears, from the lorette, by threatening 
 to lodge a complaint with the crown attorney. 
 
 She had had the prudence not to manifest the least 
 suspicion anent the forged bills in her possession. Her 
 plan was soon formed. She decided she would call on. 
 the young woman and put her in a fearful fright. If one 
 of her protectors happened to be there, she would apply 
 to him, she would create a scandal and manage 
 to get back her money somehow. She wanted to devour 
 her prey after having sucked all the blood from her 
 veins. 
 
 An acceptance for a thousand francs which Armande 
 had signed with Sauvaire's name, and which she had given 
 Madame Mercier in exchange for another bill, had fallen 
 due on the previous day. The old woman having a 
 pretext to be angry resolved not to wait any longer. She 
 called on the young woman just at the time when Marius 
 and the master stevedore were there. 
 
 Armande was quite troubled when she met her in the 
 ante-chamber. She dragged her to the farthest corner of 
 a small boudoir which was only separated from the 
 drawing-room by a thin door. She offered her a seat 
 with the timid and beseeching look of an insolvent person 
 to her creditor. 
 
 " What do you mean," shouted the usurer, refusing the 
 chair, "you are making fun of me, my good lady! 
 Another bill returned unpaid! I am tired of it all." 
 
 She had crossed her amis and spoke in a loud insolent 
 voice. Her little fat, red face shone with anger. Armande 
 would have preferred to have seen her crying and lamenting 
 in her customary drawling tone of voice. 
 
 " For mercy's sake," she exclaimed frightened, " speak 
 lower. I have visitors. You know in what an embar- 
 rassed position I find myself. Grant me a few days' grace."
 
 126 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Madame Mercier made a movement of impatience. She 
 stood on tip-toe and spoke right in the lorette's face. 
 
 " What care I, if you have visitors ? " she continued, 
 without lowering her voice. " I mean to ' be paid, and 
 immediately ! Madame wears hats and bonnets, Madame 
 goes to the Chateau-des-Fleurs, Madame has lovers who 
 provide all sorts of amusement for her! Have I any 
 lovers? I deprive myself, I eat dry bread and drink 
 water, whereas you stuff yourself with good things. That 
 can't last, I must have my money, or I will take you 
 somewhere. You know where, don't you ? " 
 
 She accompanied these words with a threatening look 
 and Armande turned quite pale. 
 
 "Ah! That ruffles you," continued the old woman, 
 sneering. " You must have taken me for a donkey ! If 
 I have acted like one, it was no doubt because it was to 
 my interest to do so. 
 
 She began laughing and shrugging her shoulders. Then 
 she added violently : 
 
 " If you don't pay me to-night, I will write to-morrow 
 to the crown attorney." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," stammered 
 Armande. 
 
 The old woman sat down. She felt she was mistress 
 of the situation, and she wanted to enjoy the pleasure of 
 playing for a moment with her prey. 
 
 " Ah ! You don't know what I mean, when I speak to 
 you of the crown attorney," she said, making a frightful 
 grimace as if overcome with sudden merriment. " But 
 you lie, my good lady! Look at yourself in that glass: 
 you are pallid, own that you're a hussy." 
 
 At that word Armande rose. It seemed to her that 
 she had just received a cut with a whip across the face. 
 Her self-possession returned to her, and showing Madame 
 Mercier the door, she exclaimed in a loud voice: 
 
 " Walk out at once ! " 
 
 "No, I'll not go out," answered the old woman, sitting 
 back in an arm-chair. " I want my money. If you touch 
 me I'll shout murder, and the persons who are in your 
 drawing-room will come to my assistance. I told you
 
 MADAME MERCIER SHOWS HER CLAWS. 127 
 
 I was not a fool. Pay me at once and I'll leave you 
 alone. 
 
 " I have no money," answered Armande coldly. 
 
 This reply exasperated the old woman. For more than 
 a year it had been given her regularly at each of her 
 visits. She had ended by taking it for mockery. 
 
 "You have no money! You always say that," she 
 exclaimed. " Give me your furniture and gowns. But no, 
 I prefer sending you to prison. I will go and lodge a 
 complaint, I will accuse you of forgery. We shall see, 
 my beautiful lady, if you find lovers among your gaolers, 
 who will treat you to silk gowns and tasty meals." 
 
 Armande staggered, losing all her assurance, fearing 
 the cries of the old woman might be heard by Marius 
 and Sauvaire. Her creditor saw her fright, and began 
 shouting still louder. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I can send you to the assizes to- 
 morrow. You know that, don't you ? I have over ten 
 false acceptances in my possession on which you have 
 imitated your lovers' signatures. That's nice work. I 
 shall go and find each of these gentlemen; I will tell 
 them what you are, and they will cast you into the street. 
 You will die in the gutter." 
 
 She took breath, while the young woman, all of a 
 tremble, thought of strangling her to make her silent. 
 
 "But that reminds me," she continued, "you have 
 visitors. Perhaps in your drawing-room there is one of 
 those gentlemen whose name you have stolen to make 
 money out of. I'll go and see. It is necessary I should 
 find out. Let me pass." 
 
 She moved towards the door. Armande placed herself 
 in front of her, with extended arms, ready to strike her 
 if she advanced. 
 
 "You want to strike me, I who have fed you, who 
 have lent you my money," stammered the female usurer 
 suffocating with rage. 
 
 And she stepped backward shouting : 
 
 "Help! Help!" 
 
 Armande faced sharply round to turn the key in the 
 lock. But it was too late. The door had just
 
 128 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 opened and she found herself face to face with Marius 
 and Sauvaire, who were gazing into the boudoir in an 
 anxious and curious manner. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHICH SHOWS THAT THE POSITION OF A LORETTE 
 IS NOT WITHOUT ITS TROUBLES. 
 
 SAUVAIRE and Marius had been about half-an-hour alone 
 in the drawing-room. The young man would willingly 
 have withdrawn, but he considered it uncivil to do so 
 without first of all taking leave of the mistress of the 
 house. He therefore feigned to be listening to the steve- 
 dore's stories. 
 
 The sound of loud voices soon reached them. Little 
 by little the noise increased to such a pitch that both of 
 them lent the ear, being unable to appear discreet any 
 longer. 
 
 Just then the shout: "Help! Help!" made them start 
 up and open the door communicating with the boudoir. 
 
 A strange sight awaited them. As soon as they made 
 their appearance Armande stepped back staggering, and 
 let herself fall into an arm-chair. With her head between 
 her hands she burst out sobbing, quite broken down, 
 without raising her face or uttering a word. 
 
 The old woman, in a rage, with inflamed countenance, 
 approached the two men and began speaking to them 
 with passionate verbosity. From time to time she broke 
 off to turn round and shake her fist at Armande, who 
 was so upset by despair, which made her tremble all over 
 her body, that she did not hear her. 
 
 "You saw it, did you not?" repeated the old woman. 
 "She wanted to beat me. She had her arm in the air. 
 Ah ! the wretch ! Just fancy, my good gentlemen, I have 
 given that woman all my money. I like to be of service. 
 Besides, I thought she was honest. She has made me 
 discount acceptances signed by honourable persons; I 
 thought I had good security. Now I learn that the bills
 
 THE TROUBLES OF A LORETTE. I2Q 
 
 are false and that I have been shamefully robbed. What 
 would you have done in my place? I reproached her 
 with her abominable conduct and then she threatened to 
 strike me." 
 
 Sauvaire opened his eyes in astonishment, gazing first 
 of all at Armande's dejection and then at Madame 
 Mercier's anger. He approached the young woman and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Come, my dear, defend yourself. This women lies, 
 doesn't she? You have not done anything so stupid. 
 Come, speak ! " 
 
 Armande did not move, but continued sobbing. 
 
 "Oli! She'll not speak, she'll not defend herself," 
 continued the woman usurer, in triumph. " She knows very 
 well that I am in possession of the proofs. I shall write 
 to-morrow morning to the crown attorney." 
 
 Marius, painfully surprised, cast a look of pity on 
 Armande. Chance had brought him face to face with 
 another shame, another human misery. He remembered 
 the sad scene when Charles Bletry was arrested in his 
 presence and a feeling of mercy overcame him in face of 
 this woman whom vice had brought to infamy. He half 
 guessed the circumstances that had urged her on to crime, 
 he understood how necessity, from fall to fall, had brought 
 her to the gutter. He would have liked to have saved 
 her, to have brought her back to a life of honesty, to have 
 given her the means of extricating herself from the sewer. 
 
 "Why do you wish to ruin her?" he quietly inquired 
 of the old woman. "You will not be paid any the quicker. 
 Don't overwhelm her. On the contrary, give her a chance 
 to recover herself and pay you back." 
 
 " No, no ! " mercilessly answered the old woman, " I want 
 her to go to prison. I have waited too long already. 
 Yesterday, again, she failed to meet a bill of a thousand 
 francs which she had made payable here. She signed 
 that bill 'Sauvaire,' the name of one of her admirers, 
 no doubt." 
 
 The master stevedore, on hearing himself referred to, 
 started. The sum of a thousand alarmed him. 
 
 " You say you have an acceptance of a thousand francs
 
 130 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 signed 'Sauvaire'?" he inquired, with an appearance of 
 something very much like terror. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the old woman. " I brought it 
 with me, it is in my basket." 
 
 " Show it me, if you please." 
 
 Sauvaire turned the bill over in his fingers, studying the 
 handwriting very closely, and was confounded. 
 
 "By Jupiter," he exclaimed, "it's perfectly imitated!" 
 
 He leant over towards Armande, who was doubled up 
 with grief, and continued in a dry tone of voice : 
 
 "Look here, my dear, no nonsense! I will never pay 
 that, you know. The deuce! I'd willingly give you a 
 hundred francs; but a thousand! It's too much." 
 
 He no longer spoke familiarly to her, he even began 
 to regret his excursion into the demi-monde of Marseilles. 
 
 "Oh! That's not the only one I've got," continued 
 Madame Mercier; "I've many others in my possession 
 bearing different names. However, if this one were paid, 
 I would agree not to say anything. I would continue 
 to wait." 
 
 Marius' sensible remarks had made her understand that 
 it would be better not to lodge a complaint, and as she had 
 Sauvaire beside her she was in hopes he would pay. She 
 became quite tender, changed her plans and began to 
 excuse Armande. 
 
 "After all," she said, "I don't know that the other 
 bills are false. The poor little woman has had a rough 
 time. You must not be angry with her, sir. She is a 
 very good person at heart." And she began to shed 
 warm tears. 
 
 Marius could not restrain a smile. Sauvaire walked up 
 and down, excited, grumbling angrily. He cared very 
 little about Armande's infamous conduct, he was simply 
 irritated at the struggle between egotism and generosity 
 that was taking place within him. 
 
 " No, decidedly ! " he exclaimed at last, " I can do 
 nothing." 
 
 Armande, buried in her arm-chair, continued sobbing 
 in a low, broken-hearted manner. This woman who had 
 known all the delight of luxury and adoration, suffered
 
 THE TROUBLES OF A LORETTE. 131 
 
 bitterly at having fallen so low. There she was, degraded, 
 with her misery and shame brought home to her, and she 
 was seized with despair when her thoughts went back to 
 her elegance and wealth of former times. She would never 
 rise again; she would fall still lower, become the last of 
 creatures. And she was all the more upset at the thought 
 that her disgrace would be public. The presence of Sauvaire 
 and Marius gave her additional pain. 
 
 Her silent grief produced a strange effect on Marius, 
 who was weak in the presence of tears. He would willingly 
 have given the old woman her thousand francs if he had 
 had them. After a painful silence he addressed Sauvaire 
 who was taking great strides about the room, very much 
 annoyed. 
 
 "Come, sir," he said to him, "this woman must be 
 saved. Her own sobs plead her cause better than I could 
 do. You are fond of her and will not abandon her in her 
 despair." 
 
 "Eh! Yes, I was fond of her," answered the master 
 stevedore sharply, " and I think I have shown it sufficiently, 
 during the last three months. Do you know that I have 
 already spent nearly five thousand francs with her. I'll 
 give no more. So much the worse! She must get out 
 of it as she can. It would be a thousand francs thrown 
 into the street. What enjoyment shall I have for this 
 money if I give it her?" 
 
 "You will have done a good action. Her behaviour 
 is scandalous, and I am not trying to excuse her; only, 
 I think I can guess how it was she became a forger, and 
 I could plead her cause." 
 
 "Oil! all that has nothing to do with me. She did 
 what she pleased. You see I am not angry. I am 
 simply going to place myself beyond all this disagreeable 
 business." 
 
 Marius was getting discouraged, he remembered what 
 Fine had related to him about the master-stevedore's vanity, 
 and he continued in a careless way : 
 
 "Let's say no more about it. I spoke to you thus 
 because I knew you were very rich and very generous. 
 Sooner or later the account of your good action would
 
 132 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 have been mooted abroad, and you would have won, in 
 this affair, more than a thousand francs worth of praise." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " asked Sauvaire hesitating. 
 
 " I am certain. Few men would be so generous, and 
 for that reason it would be positively glorious to save this 
 woman. But let us say no more about it." 
 
 Sauvaire ceased walking about. He stopped in the centre 
 of the room and began to think. 
 
 Madame Mercier, who saw him hesitating, and who was 
 experiencing thrills of desire, at the idea of receiving a 
 thousand francs, thought she had better intervene. She had 
 resumed her tearful voice and her humble, gentle manner : 
 
 "Ah! sir," she said to Sauvaire, "if you only knew how 
 this poor little woman adores you ! There are very wealthy 
 men who have tried to take your place. She has refused 
 all offers, and it is perhaps that which has placed her in 
 straitened circumstances and prevented her repairing the 
 faults she has committed. You cannot imagine how closely 
 she clings to you." 
 
 The master stevedore felt very much nattered at these 
 remarks. From the moment his self-esteem was in question 
 the matter bore a different complexion. 
 
 "Very well! Be it so," he said, "I'll give the thousand 
 francs. I'll take them to you to-morrow evening. Now 
 withdraw. Leave madame alone." 
 
 The old woman bowed with servile humility and went 
 quietly away, closing the doors without the least noise. 
 
 Armande had raised her head. Her face flushed with 
 tears seemed to have grown older. All upset with fright 
 and feverish with shame, she rose with difficulty and wanted 
 to kneel down before Marius and Sauvaire. 
 
 The young man held her up whilst the master stevedore 
 said: 
 
 "Come! my dear, it's all over. I accept your thanks, 
 and trust my good action will be profitable to you." 
 
 The truth was that Sauvaire no longer found any charm 
 in Armande. He had just perceived that the poor creature 
 was faded, and he had received too hard a lesson to forget 
 himself any longer in the boudoirs of the demi-monde. 
 He began to prefer the grisette.
 
 THE TROUBLES OF A LORETTE. 133 
 
 The two men withdrew, and at the door Armande 
 warmly kissed Marius' hand. She saw that he felt real 
 and profound pity for her, and she thanked him for 
 having saved her. 
 
 The following night Sauvaire called to fetch Marius to 
 accompany him to Madame Mercier's. The female usurer 
 occupied a filthy house in the Rue clu Pave d'Amour. 
 The two visitors ascended three flights of stairs and 
 knocked, without obtaining an answer, at a blackened, damp 
 door. The noise they made brought out a neighbour 
 who informed them that the " wicked old woman" had been 
 arrested that morning. 
 
 "The police," said this person, "had been on her 
 track for some days. It seems a complaint had been 
 lodged against her. All the- tenants were delighted at her 
 arrest. She only just had time to burn the papers likely 
 to compromise her." 
 
 Marius understood that Armande had been saved by 
 Providence. He made inquiries of the people at the 
 house and acquired the certitude that the old woman had 
 burnt all the acceptances signed by the lorette, fearing 
 that their possession might constitute other charges 
 against her; for she guessed that if Armande found her- 
 self implicated, she would tell the truth and give the 
 most overwhelming details. Besides, by destroying the 
 securities she lost nothing, as she had long since recov- 
 ered her advances. 
 
 Sauvaire was particularly delighted at their adventure. 
 He carried off the thousand francs triumphantly. He had 
 been enabled to give a proof of his generosity without 
 spending a sou. It was all profit. 
 
 " You are a witness that I was going to give the 
 money," he said to Marius. "That is how I am. I like to 
 be generous, I throw money out of the window. Oh! a 
 gift of a thousand francs does not trouble me, when it's a 
 question of paying for my amusement." 
 
 Marius allowed him to expatiate on his good qualities, 
 and ran off to Armande to tell her the good news. 
 
 He found the young woman sad and troubled. She 
 had passed an atrocious night, struggling mentally with her
 
 134 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 misfortunes, in search of a supreme means of extricating 
 herself from the infamy in which she was plunged. 
 
 When she learned that the forged acceptances had 
 been destroyed, that she had recovered her liberty, she 
 was as if transformed. She kissed Marius passionately, 
 and vowed to him that she would take advantage of the 
 lesson and change her mode of life. 
 
 "I will work," she said, "I will conduct myself like a 
 respectable woman. Then only will I ask you to return 
 me your friendship. Good-bye!" 
 
 Marius left her, quite moved by her decision and pro- 
 mises. When he was alone he reproached himself with 
 his abnegation : for two days he had been living beyond 
 himself, without giving a thought to his brother's safety. 
 
 When Fine inquired the result of his errand, he did 
 not dare relate to her the dramatic scenes at which he 
 had been present ; he limited himself to telling her that 
 there was no hope of borrowing the money from Sauvaire, 
 and that Armande was closing her drawing-room. 
 
 " Where will you go now, then ? " inquired the flower- 
 girl. 
 
 " I know not," he answered, " However, I have a plan 
 which I am going to put into execution." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 DOUGLAS, THE NOTARY. 
 
 MARIUS had returned to M. Martelly's and resumed his 
 duties, finding a sort of peacefulness in his work. His 
 thoughts ran freer amidst the silence and calm of his 
 office. He told himself that he had four months in which 
 to come to Philippe's assistance, and he would reflect for 
 hours together as to the best means to be employed. 
 
 M. Martelly continued to treat him as he would a son. 
 
 Sometimes the young man thought of telling him every- 
 thing and of borrowing the fifteen thousand francs of him. 
 But a fear, a timidity prevented him; he dreaded his 
 employer's republican sternness. So he resolved to continue
 
 DOUGLAS, THE NOTARY. 135 
 
 the struggle, to exhaust all possible means before applying 
 to the shipowner. Later on, when he had unsuccessfully 
 tried everything else, he would make up his mind to tell 
 him of his difficulty and implore his kind assistance. 
 
 Meanwhile, he determined he would not again behave 
 like a simpleton and take any useless step. For a moment, 
 he thought of earning the necessary amount himself. The 
 high figure frightened him, and he saw very well that he 
 could never put by such a sum in four months. Yet he 
 felt bold enough to move mountains. 
 
 It recurred to him that Douglas, the notary whose aid 
 M. Martelly had vainly asked for Philippe, had for some 
 months past been offering to employ him as agent, acting 
 under power of attorney for some of his clients. The 
 notary and the ship-owner were connected in various 
 business matters, and M. Martelly often sent Marius to 
 settle different accounts with Douglas. One day, on calling 
 there, the young man decided to accept the offer that 
 had been made him : if the profits were small, he might, 
 when he had become better known, succeed in obtaining 
 a loan. 
 
 The notary lived in a house of simple and austere 
 appearance. The offices occupied the entire first floor ; 
 there was quite a crowd of clerks seated along stained 
 deal tables, in the large cold bare rooms. Luxury had 
 never penetrated into those rooms full of prodigious activity 
 and a kind of honest roughness. One felt oneself to be 
 in the abode of a man who never forgot himself amid 
 the joys of life. 
 
 About ten years before, Douglas had succeeded to the 
 practice of a person named Imbert, whose clerk he had 
 been for more than twelve years. He was then an intel- 
 ligent and active young fellow, with a passion for business, 
 and ever dreaming of monster speculations. The fever 
 for trade and manufacture that was passing over France 
 heated his blood and filled him with strong ambition ; 
 he wished to earn vast sums of money, not in order to 
 live in opulence, but because he tasted a keen voluptuous- 
 ness in unravelling all monetarv matters, and in guiding 
 the undertakings he embarked upon to success. At the
 
 136 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 outset he felt himself too restricted in his notary's practice. 
 He was a born banker, and his hands were formed for 
 manipulating large sums of money. His profession, with 
 its quiet dealings and almost sacred and paternal character, 
 did not in the least suit his stock -jobbing nature.. He 
 felt out of his element, for all his instincts urged him to 
 turn the money deposited with him to account. He could 
 not reconcile himself to being a disinterested intermediary, 
 and he launched into panting and feverish speculations, 
 which later on turned him into a great criminal. 
 
 He paid the purchase money of his practice in a few 
 months, without anyone knowing how he had obtained 
 the necessary capital. Then he displayed febrile activity. 
 In a very short time his practice developed considerably. 
 He became the first notary of Marseilles, opening his 
 doors wide and securing fresh clients every day. His 
 mode of proceeding was extremely simple : he never denied 
 himself to any client, and listened to every application; 
 he always found money for those who wanted to borrow, 
 and always had excellent investments for those who 
 deposited their cash with him. A considerable turnover 
 of capital thus took place through the intermediary of 
 his office. 
 
 At first, people were surprised at his rapid success. They 
 talked of imprudence, and considered that the young 
 notary was going too quickly ahead, and was undertaking 
 a burden too heavy for his shoulders. Besides this, no 
 one could make out how he managed to meet the calls 
 occasioned by the continual increase of his practice. But 
 Douglas calmed public anxiety by the simplicity of his 
 life. He was believed to be very wealthy, yet he dressed 
 quietly, displayed not the slightest luxury, and denied 
 himself all pleasures. Everyone knew that he led a sober 
 existence, eating only plain food, living, in fact, like a petty 
 shop-keeper. He was also very pious, gave a great deal 
 in charity, went to church and remained kneeling during 
 the whole length of the service. By these means he 
 acquired the reputation of an honest man, and this went on 
 increasing daily. He came to be cited at last as a model 
 of piety and honour. His name was respected and beloved.
 
 DOUGLAS, THE NOTARY. 137 
 
 It had taken him barely six years to arrive at this 
 position; and now, during six years he had been at the 
 head of the Marseilles' notaries : his office was the most 
 frequented, and the one that did the most business. 
 Wealthy people made a point of employing this modest 
 and pious man endowed with every virtue. The nobility 
 and clergy supported him ; the commercial world had 
 ended by feeling unlimited confidence in his loyalty. The 
 position was won, and Douglas was feverishly turning it 
 to account. 
 
 He was then about forty-five years old, a strong, thick- 
 set man, inclined to stoutness. His face, always clean- 
 shaven, was deathly pale; the flesh seemed inanimate, the 
 eyes alone showing signs of life. He looked like a verger 
 turned banker. Beneath his gentle exterior, one could 
 hear a kind of muffled roar : no doubt the blood was 
 coursing fiercely in this struggler's body which seemed 
 asleep. When he conversed in his drawling tones, his 
 voice occasionally rose to a pitch which revealed the 
 internal fever consuming him. He was always to be found 
 in his private room, a cold apartment, poorly furnished. 
 There was generally a priest or a nun in the ante-chamber. 
 The door was left open and it was easy for anyone to 
 find the chief. He displayed his charity, contempt for 
 luxury, and austere good-nature even rather too compla- 
 cently. 
 
 Marius felt a real sympathy for this man whose simple 
 virtues quite won his heart. He delighted in calling upon 
 him. On this particular day, after discussing with Douglas 
 the business upon which M. Martelly had sent him, the 
 young man added, hesitatingly: 
 
 " I wish now, sir, to speak to you on a private matter, 
 only, I am afraid I mav be trespassing on your time." 
 
 " Not at all! my dear friend," said the notarv cordially, 
 " I am quite at your service. I have already offered you 
 my assistance, and my house is open to you." 
 
 "I remember your kind offers, and I wish to remind 
 you of what you said to me some months ago." 
 
 "I told you that it only rested with yourself to earn 
 some money with me. I should like to assist a young
 
 138 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 fellow like you by putting your willingness and courage 
 to the proof. What I told you then I repeat to-day." 
 
 "I thank you and -accept," replied Marius simply, much 
 affected by Douglas' frank and generous ways. The latter, 
 on hearing the young man's words, started with joy. He 
 turned his chair round quickly and indicated another seat 
 to his visitor. 
 
 "Sit down and let us talk," he said. "I can only give 
 you a few minutes. I like young men such as you; not 
 afraid of work and speaking their minds freely. You do 
 not know how happy you make me by placing me in the 
 position to be useful to you." He smiled, and every word 
 he uttered was like a caress. "Well, this is the matter 
 in question," he continued. "As some of my clients do 
 not reside at Marseilles, I have had to find a means of 
 facilitating their transactions. I have therefore obtained 
 several agents acting under power of attorney to represent 
 the absent parties and who look after these persons' pro- 
 perties. Whenever one of my clients is, for some reason 
 or other, unable to attend personally to his affairs, he 
 leaves with me a blank power of attorney, depending on 
 me to find some upright party who will faithfully fulfil his 
 duties. I know that you are an active and honest fellow, 
 and I offer you the position of representing two or three 
 landlords whose powers of attorney I have by me. There 
 is only your name to fill in, and you will receive five per 
 cent, upon all the transactions you carry out." 
 
 He spoke in a calm and simple tone of voice. Marius 
 was frightened at the responsibility of such a position; 
 but he felt so sure of his uprightness that he did not 
 hesitate to accept. 
 
 "I am at your commands," he said to Douglas. "You 
 must guide and advise me. I know I shall have nothing 
 to fear in obeying you in everything." 
 
 "So as not to overwhelm you at the outset," resumed 
 the notary rising, " I will only entrust you with two powers 
 of attorney to begin with." 
 
 He took some papers and returned to his table, where 
 he read out the two documents after having filled 
 in Marius' name. The powers conferred were practically
 
 DOUGLAS, THE NOTARY. 139 
 
 unlimited : the right to sell and buy, mortgage, and bring 
 or defend actions. When the notary had finished reading 
 he added : 
 
 " I must now give you some information respecting the 
 persons you are to represent." He handed Marius one 
 of the documents, and went on: "This, to begin with, 
 is the authorization of my friend and client, M. Authier, 
 of Lambesc. He is just now at Cherbourg, and will be 
 shortly starting for New York, to take possession of a 
 large fortune that has been left him. He purchased at 
 Marseilles, before his departure, a building in the Rue 
 de Rome. You will administer the property during his 
 absence. I am expecting to receive his instructions to- 
 morrow, and I will inform you of them." 
 
 He then took up the other document, and continued : 
 
 "And this is the authorization of M. Mouttct, a retired 
 merchant at Toulon, who entrusted me with the capital 
 necessary for taking a mortgage on a country house in the 
 Saint Just district. He has just remitted a further sum 
 which lie wishes to have invested in the same way ; but 
 as he is a great sufferer from gout, he has asked me to 
 find someone who, acting under his power of attorney, 
 would give the necessary signatures in his stead. Come 
 back to-morrow, and we can then arrange finally about 
 the two matters." 
 
 Douglas rose as a hint that the interview was at an 
 end. At the door, he shook Marius' hand witli rough 
 and cordial familiarity. 
 
 The young man withdrew, rather stunned by the rapidity 
 of what had taken place. He was surprised at the facility 
 with which the notarv had entrusted him with such 
 important matters, and felt ill at ease as he thought of 
 the heavy responsibility about to weigh upon him.
 
 140 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MARIUS SEEKS UNSUCCESSFULLY FOR A HOUSE 
 AND A MAN. 
 
 MARIUS called on Douglas the next day to receive his 
 final instructions. 
 
 "Come, you're punctual," said the notary smiling. 
 " You'll see, we shall do plenty of business together. I 
 intend to make you rich. Sit down, I'll attend to you in 
 a minute." 
 
 Douglas was lunching at the corner of his table. He 
 was eating stale bread with a few nuts, and drinking plain 
 water. This frugality impressed Marius and removed the 
 uneasiness he had hitherto felt. Such a sober man could 
 not lead him into shady transactions ; his was undoubtedly 
 a heart in the right place, an upright soul, a sincere and 
 pious mind devoted to its duty like a priest devotes him- 
 self to God. 
 
 "Now let's talk," said the notary, when he had finished 
 his repast. " I have received a letter from M. Authier 
 who wishes to raise money on his house, as he requires 
 funds for his journey. Here's his letter." 
 
 Marius took the paper that Douglas held out to him. 
 As he appeared to be looking for the post-office stamps, 
 the notary said hastily: 
 
 " The letter was enclosed in a large envelope which 
 contained several other documents." 
 
 The young man coloured up, fearing he had wounded 
 his new employer's feelings. He read M. Authier's letter 
 which indeed asked to have money raised on the house 
 in the Rue de Rome. He instructed Douglas to make 
 use of the power of attorney and to remit him the money 
 at the earliest possible moment. When Marius had finished 
 reading the letter, the notary resumed: 
 
 " This request for a loan comes at the right moment, 
 for M. Mouttet has again been asking me to find him a 
 safe and advantageous investment. As you are now the 
 authorized representative of both my clients, the lender,
 
 MARIUS SEEKS A HOUSE AND A MAX. 141 
 
 and the borrower, you will be able to satisfy them both 
 at once. You have simply to give me your signature, and 
 I will transmit to M. Authier the cash that M. Mouttet 
 sent me for investment." 
 
 Marius thought Douglas was settling matters rather 
 quickly. He would have liked to have seen the building, 
 and to have exchanged at least a letter or two with the 
 persons he was to represent. He did not doubt the no- 
 tary's good faith, but he was unable to get rid of some 
 vague and inexplicable fear. His uneasiness of the day 
 before was returning; it seemed to him that he was 
 descending into some black hole, and Douglas' smiles and 
 soft voice troubled him strangely. He could not define 
 the peculiar sensation that was creeping over him, he felt 
 a need of reaction. The notary was already sorting out 
 the documents which he required Marius to sign. 
 
 "Ah! the deuce!" said he, stopping suddenly, "there's 
 one paper wanting. I must send a clerk to the mortgage 
 office for it." Douglas seemed very much put out. 
 
 Marius, as though urged on by some instinct, and obeying 
 the feeling of uneasiness which had taken possession of 
 him, rose hastily. 
 
 "I cannot wait," he said, "I ought alreadv to be at 
 M. Martelly's. Put off the signing of the documents, please, 
 until Monday, the day after to-morrow." 
 
 "Very well! " said the notary, after a moment's hesitation. 
 " I would rather have finished the matter to-day. You 
 know in what a hurry M. Authier is. However, come on 
 Monday." 
 
 Marius breathed more freely when he found himself in 
 the street. He thought he had been childish and felt 
 ashamed of the vague suspicions he had entertained. He 
 had almost run off under the spell of some indefinable 
 feeling, and he shrugged his shoulders after the manner 
 of a person who had been frightened of his shadow. He 
 was glad, however, to have two days during which he 
 could think matters over, and account for his repugnance 
 and overcome it. 
 
 During the afternoon, he received a visit at M. Mar- 
 tcllv's office which delighted him. M. dc Girousse,
 
 142 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 who was killing time by visiting all the towns of the 
 department, called upon him. He had just reached Marseilles, 
 and was leaving the same evening. 
 
 "Ah ! my dear friend," said he to the clerk, "how lucky 
 you are to be poor and to have to work for your living ! 
 You've no idea how bored I feel. If I could, I would 
 change places with your brother: I think I should enjoy 
 myself more in prison." 
 
 Marius smiled at the old count's strange ideas, whilst 
 the latter continued : 
 
 "Philippe's trial helped to keep me going for a month. 
 I never before assisted at such a fine spectacle of human 
 misery and folly. I had a violent desire when in court 
 to get up and say all I thought. They would no doubt 
 have put me into a strait-waistcoat. Lambesc is becoming 
 uninhabitable." 
 
 Ever since M. de Girousse had put in an appearance, 
 Marius had been thinking of asking him to give him some 
 information respecting M. Authier. He thought the count 
 must surely know this man who belonged to the same 
 little town as himself, according to what Douglas had 
 said. He attempted to assume an indifferent air as he 
 observed : 
 
 " But yet there are some rich people at Lambesc. You 
 might cultivate their society and amuse yourself more. Do 
 you know M. Authier, a landlord in your neighbourhood, 
 I believe ? " 
 
 "M. Authier," repeated the old nobleman, trying to 
 remember, " M. Authier, I can recall no one of that name 
 at Lambesc. And you say the gentleman owns property 
 there ? " 
 
 " Yes. He has recently bought a house at Marseilles, 
 and he must have a pretty extensive estate close to your 
 own." 
 
 M. de Girousse was still thinking hard. 
 
 " You must be mistaken," he said, at length. " I certainly 
 know no M. Authier. I am certain there's no landlord 
 in Lambesc of that name, for I amused myself by learning 
 the names of all the persons in the place. One has to 
 do something."
 
 MARIUS SEEKS A HOUSE AND A MAX. 143 
 
 "Come, let's understand each other," resumed Marius, 
 turning pale. " I mean a M. Authier who has just come 
 into a large fortune; he is at the present time at Cherbourg 
 and is about to leave for New York, where the relative, 
 whose sole heir he is, died." 
 
 The count burst out laughing. 
 
 "What yarn's that you're telling me?" he exclaimed. 
 " If such a thing were to happen at Lambesc, if one of 
 my neighbours were to inherit the fortune of a rich uncle 
 in America, do you think I should know nothing about 
 it, and that I should not amuse myself during a whole 
 week with the gossip such a romance would produce in 
 my little town ? I assure you again that there has nevei 
 been an Authier at Lambesc, and that nobody there has 
 ever inherited the mythical fortune you talk of." 
 
 Marius felt quite crushed. The count's words carried 
 conviction with them, and Douglas alone could be the 
 liar in all this. The young man did not dare express all 
 he was thinking, 
 
 "What interest have you in this M. Authier?" asked 
 M. de Girousse whose curiosity was excited. 
 
 "None at all," replied Marius stammering; "one of 
 my friends told me about him, and I must have mis- 
 taken the name of the town he mentioned." 
 
 He still hesitated to accuse Douglas, and there was a 
 buzzing sensation in his head which prevented his judging 
 the matter clearly. It was in an absent-minded way that 
 he clasped the hand M. dc Girousse held out to him, 
 with the words : 
 
 " Well, good-bye. Come to me at the opening of the 
 shooting season. It'll amuse me." 
 
 When the count had gone, Marius remained in a 
 painful state of perplexity. lie must certainly have mis- 
 understood. Yet, M. de Girousse's statements were clear 
 and decisive: M. Authier was not known at Lambesc, 
 and, therefore, Douglas had lied for some reason or 
 other. 
 
 The young man did not dare fathom the consequences 
 of this falsehood : he divined the existence of several 
 pitfalls beneath his feet, and could account for the un-
 
 144 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 easiness he had experienced when with the notary. Hav- 
 ing at present nothing more than suspicions, he promised 
 himself that he would discover the whole truth, before 
 engaging further in the matter and giving his signature. 
 He understood how serious the least accusation would be, 
 and he decided to act with extreme prudence, without 
 haste and without showing his mistrust. 
 
 The morrow was a Sunday, and Marius, having a free 
 day before him, went the first thing in the morning to 
 the Rue de Rome where the property Authier was sup- 
 posed to have purchased was situated. It was a large, 
 handsome house let out in flats to different persons. 
 Armed with his power of attorney, Marius skilfully ques- 
 tioned each of these tenants, and was soon convinced 
 that not one of them knew M. Authier, nor had even 
 ever seen him, and that all of them had up till then dealt 
 directly with Douglas, the notary. 
 
 The young man's suspicions were being confirmed. He 
 thought he would put them to a final test and went to 
 see the former owner of the building whose address one 
 of the tenants gave him. His name was Landrol and he 
 lived in an adjoining street. 
 
 "Sir," said Marius, "I am instructed by M. Authier to 
 administer the property you sold him and I wish you to 
 give me some information concerning the leases you granted 
 and the rent you charged." 
 
 M. Landrol obligingly placed himself at his disposal 
 and answered all his inquiries. Marius was very circum- 
 spect, and when he had spoken of one thing and another, 
 he cleverly broached the real object of his visit. 
 
 "Very many thanks," he said, "and I regret to have 
 taken up so much of your time. My excuse is that I 
 have not been able to see M. Authier, who is at present 
 away. It occurred to me that as you have had dealings 
 with him, you could tell me something about him and 
 give me some idea as to what his intentions were." 
 
 " But I never treated directly with M. Authier," Landrol 
 replied simply. "I have never even seen the gentleman. 
 The affair was carried through by M. Douglas who furnished 
 me with all the necessary signatures."
 
 MARIUS SEEKS A HOUSE AND A MAN. 145 
 
 "Ah! I thought M. Authier had inspected the build- 
 ing, which is the usual custom." 
 
 " Not at all. Don't you know that he has been in 
 America for the last six months? M. Douglas inspected 
 the house himself and bought it for his client, whose 
 instructions he had received." 
 
 Marius bit his lip. He had almost allowed his terrible 
 secret to escape him. The day before, the notary had 
 told him that Authier had come from Lambesc to seek 
 and purchase a house. The falsehood was now an absolute 
 certainty. Authier could not be at the same time away 
 in America where he had been for the past six months 
 and also awaiting money at Cherbourg. No doubt the 
 individual was no more known at Cherbourg or New York 
 then he was at Lambesc. He was a pure fiction, an 
 imaginary puppet whom Douglas had conjured up for 
 some criminal design of his own. And Marius suddenly 
 thought that the power of attorney filled up with his name 
 was in reality a forgery which rendered the forger liable 
 to a sentence of penal servitude. He blushed as though 
 he were himself the culprit, and muttered some further 
 thanks to Landrol who was eyeing him curiously, surprised 
 to find him so badly informed as to the affairs of the 
 person he was representing. 
 
 When Marius found himself alone in the street, lie was 
 obliged to submit to the evidence of his senses : only 
 Douglas could have forged the document he had in his 
 pocket. Yet the young man could not exactly understand 
 the reason of the crime. The purchase-money of the 
 building had been paid, so the only explanation he could 
 hit upon was that the notary had acquired the property 
 for himself under an assumed name in order to disguise 
 the amount of his fortune. But even then, the crime was 
 still there : Douglas, the pious and upright man, was a 
 forger. 
 
 Marius feared for a time that Mouttet, the retired Toulon 
 merchant, was also a dummy. He hastened to call on 
 one of his friends, who had resided a long time at Toulon, 
 and breathed more freely when, on questioning him, he 
 learnt that Mouttet rcallv existed and was one of Douglas'
 
 146 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 clients. After this, still prompted by his suspicions, he 
 decided to see the property upon which Mouttet held a 
 mortgage. He had spent his morning in uselessly seeking 
 a man, and he employed his afternoon in hunting for 
 a house. 
 
 Brought up in the Saint Just district, in his mother's 
 country-house, Marius knew all the residences of the 
 neighbourhood. The property upon which Douglas pro- 
 fessed to hold a mortgage in Mouttet's name belonged to a 
 M. Giraud, in whose house the young man had often 
 played when a child. He went at once to Giraud's and 
 paid a friendly call, as though he had been strolling in 
 the neighbourhood, and wished merely to shake hands 
 with his old friend. 
 
 It was about mid-September. At the horizon the sea 
 was slumbering, heavy and motionless, looking like an 
 immense carpet of blue velvet. The country-side extended 
 yellow with sunshine, hot and sweltering. A gentle breeze 
 rose at times from the shore and went lightly through 
 the branches of the quivering pine-trees. When Marius 
 passed before the country-house where his mother had nursed 
 him, a poignant emotion brought big tears to his eyes. 
 Amidst the silence of this scorched and mournful desert, 
 he fancied he could hear the beloved voice of the saintly 
 woman whose memory sustained him in his task of 
 deliverance which was weighing him down. 
 
 Giraud received him like the prodigal son. 
 
 "One never sees you now," he said. "Come here 
 sometimes and try and forget all your troubles. You will 
 find none but devoted friends here, who will help you to 
 pass a few more pleasant hours." 
 
 Marius was touched at this reception. He had often 
 despaired of humanity since he had found himself face to 
 face with the wickedness of life. During an hour he quite 
 forgot the reason of his visit. It was Giraud himself who 
 gave an opening for the delicate inquiry the young man 
 wished to institute. 
 
 "You see," said the master of the house, "we live 
 happily here. We're certainly not over rich, but the few 
 acres of land we possess suffice for our needs."
 
 MARIUS SEEKS A HOUSE AND A MAN. 147 
 
 " I thought you were in straitened circumstances," replied 
 Marius. "The harvests have not been good." 
 
 Giraud looked at the young man with surprise. 
 
 "Straitened circumstances," he said, "not a bit of it. 
 Why do you say that?" 
 
 Marius felt himself changing colour. 
 
 "Excuse me," he stammered, "I don't wish to appear 
 indiscreet. I was told that after the last harvest, you had 
 been obliged to mortgage your property." 
 
 On hearing this, Giraud laughed aloud. 
 
 " Whoever told you that told you wrong," he resumed. 
 " Thank heavens, I've never mortgaged a single inch of 
 land." 
 
 "Yet," said Marius further, wishing to be quite sure, 
 "I was told the notary's name. It's M. Douglas who is 
 stated to have taken the mortgage." 
 
 Giraud continued laughing with his broad frank laugh. 
 
 "M. Douglas is a worthy man," he replied, "but what- 
 ever property he's got a mortgage on, it's certainly not 
 mine." 
 
 The day before, Marius had seen the document in which 
 Giraud's property was distinctly named and it, more- 
 over, bore the owner's signature. The notary had, 
 therefore, committed a second forgery, and this one could 
 not be so easily explained as the first. He had evidently 
 kept the money which Mouttet had intended to be invested 
 for himself. 
 
 Marius withdrew, desirous of thinking everything over 
 before acting. Authier did not exist, and the property on 
 which Mouttet was supposed to have a mortgage was also 
 a fiction, since Giraud declared it was not his. All this 
 was a mystery which the young man dreaded to inves- 
 tigate. 
 
 On the Monday morning after a feverish night, he 
 decided to call on the notarv.
 
 148 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE COWL DOES NOT MAKE THE FRIAR. 
 
 ON arriving at Douglas', Marius was surprised at the 
 religious calm reigning in the large cold rooms which he 
 knew to be the abode of crime. He could not accustom 
 himself to such hypocrisy, and would have liked the very 
 walls to have proclaimed aloud the notary's infamy. The 
 quiet activity of the clerks, the respectable appearance of 
 the house exasperated him and filled his mind with pain- 
 ful doubts. Pale and agitated, he had seated himself in 
 the ante-room, when Douglas caught sight of him from 
 his office, the door of which was open. 
 
 "Come in, come in," he cried; "you won't be in my 
 way, and I'll attend to you in a minute." 
 
 Marius walked in, and found five or six priests there, 
 among them Abbe Donadei. This abbe, ever graceful 
 and smiling, was cajoling the notary both by word and 
 look. He had come to ask for alms. 
 
 "You are one of our friends," he was saying, "and 
 we come to you every time the poor-boxes of our parishes 
 are empty." 
 
 "You do well, sir," replied Douglas, rising, and taking 
 some gold from a drawer. " How much do you want ? " 
 he asked the priest. 
 
 "Well," resumed Donadei, in a soft tone of voice, "I 
 think that five hundred francs will suffice. We are much 
 in need of the assistance of pious and honourable per- 
 sons '' 
 
 "Here are five hundred francs," said Douglas, interrupt- 
 ing him. And he added in a slightly trembling voice: 
 "Pray for me, my father." 
 
 Then all the priests rose and surrounded the notary, 
 thanking him and calling upon heaven to bless him. 
 Douglas listened to them, erect and very pale, and Marius 
 fancied he could see a slight nervous trembling of his 
 lips and eyelids. Donadei, with easy elegance, was inex- 
 haustible in praise and flattering professions.
 
 THE COWL DOES NOT MAKE THE FRIAR. 149 
 
 "The Almighty will repay you what you give us," he 
 said. " He is already doing so by making your business 
 prosper, and by bestowing on you the peace of mind 
 that is only awarded to the righteous. Ah! sir, you are 
 a grand example in this city which is being corrupted by 
 the materialism of the century. I would that the whole 
 of our commercial population imitated your simple life 
 and possessed your piety and kindliness of heart. One 
 would not then see the horrible spectacle which Marseilles 
 is presenting to us 
 
 Douglas seemed uneasy, and wearied by the priest's 
 praise. He interrupted him a second time, and said as 
 he showed him to the door: 
 
 " No, no, I am no saint. Every one is in need of 
 divine mercy. If you think you owe me any thanks, be 
 so good as to pray for me." 
 
 The priests made him a final bow, and at last withdrew. 
 
 Marius, seated in a corner of the room, had assisted 
 at this scene in silence. He felt indignant at the comedy 
 that was being played before his eyes. Perhaps Douglas 
 felt that he was purchasing heaven's forgiveness, and 
 paying well for it, with the money he had stolen. So 
 this godly man, this kind-hearted soul who relieved those 
 in distress, this Christian, who devoted so much of his 
 time to the churches, was but a hypocrite and a scoundrel ! 
 
 And as Marius thought thus, whilst watching the 
 priests and notary, he fancied he was dreaming with 
 his eyes open : he had come to overwhelm a forger, and 
 lie found himself confronted by a charitable man for 
 whom the very Church was offering up prayers. 
 
 When the first moment of surprise was over, he felt a 
 still more eager desire to do his duty. As the notary 
 advanced towards him, smiling and with open and extended 
 hand, he drew back slowly, gazing at him intently. Then, 
 he said suddenly : 
 
 " Shut the door ! " 
 
 Douglas, surprised, and as though incapable of resistance, 
 went and closed it. 
 
 " Bolt it," resumed Marius, as harshly as before. "We 
 have to talk together."
 
 150 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Douglas shot the bolt and came back, looking astonished 
 and displeased. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, my dear friend ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 And as Marius, influenced perhaps by a last feeling 
 of pity, did not answer, he continued : 
 
 " But after all, you're right. It's best to be alone when 
 talking business. Well ! are you ready ? I have procured 
 the document that was wanting, and now I only require 
 your signature to complete Mouttet's mortgage on Authier's 
 house. You know that we are pressed for time ; I received 
 another letter this morning from my client Authier who 
 begs me to send him some money as quickly as possible." 
 
 The notary rose from his table, spread out some papers, 
 and, dipping a pen in the ink, offered it to Marius, saying 
 simply : 
 
 Sign." 
 
 Marius had not said a word, but had quietly watched 
 each of the notary's movements. Instead of taking the 
 pen, he looked him straight in the face and said in a 
 calm tone of voice: 
 
 " I went yesterday to see the house in the Rue de 
 Rome. I saw the tenants and the former landlord, and 
 they all tell me that they do not know M. Authier." 
 
 Douglas turned pale, and his lips had again that trembling 
 motion Marius had already observed. He gathered the 
 papers together, laid the pen down, and reseated himself 
 as he stammered : 
 
 "Ah! You surprise me very much." 
 
 "The day before yesterday," continued Marius, "I 
 received a visit from M. de Girousse, a rich landed pro- 
 prietor of Lambesc, and he assured me that none of his 
 neighbours was named Authier and that that person 
 certainly did not exist. To-day, I know that he was not 
 mistaken. What am I to think ? " 
 
 The notary did not answer. He was gazing vaguely 
 before him, changing colour and shaking, feeling himself 
 lost, seeking no doubt in his despair, a means of explaining 
 matters satisfactorily. 
 
 "I then went to the Saint Just district," resumed Marius
 
 THE COWL DOES NOT MAKE THE FRIAR. 151 
 
 pitilessly. " The property upon which you told me you 
 had taken a mortgage on your client Mouttet's behalf, 
 happens to belong to one of my mother's old friends, 
 M. Giraud, who assured me that his property was quite 
 free. I ask you again, what am I to think ? " 
 
 And, as Douglas still remained silent, the young man 
 went on in a louder tone of voice : 
 
 "Well! since you refuse to answer, I will tell you 
 myself what I believe and what is indeed true. Your 
 M. Authier never existed; he's a puppet, whom you invented 
 in order to accomplish some nefarious scheme more easily. 
 In addition to this, you never took any mortgage, and you 
 put Mouttet's money into your own pocket. To arrive at 
 this fine result you have committed several forgeries, and 
 to-day you are quite prepared to commit others in order 
 to procure a further supply of cash for your needs." 
 
 It was as though Marius was speaking to an insensible 
 and motionless statue. The notary's calm increased the 
 young man's anger. 
 
 "I have not to judge your crimes," he continued, louder 
 still ; " but I have to ask you for an explanation of your 
 unworthy conduct towards myself. What ! you intended 
 lightheartedly to mix me up in your dirty business; you 
 would have compromised me, while professing to be my 
 friend and knowing my position as a humble worker. I 
 have the right, have I not? to tell you that you are a 
 scoundrel ! " 
 
 The notary did not wince. 
 
 "And just now," resumed Marius, "there were priests 
 here blessing you. Ah ! you played your part admirably. 
 I alone in Marseilles know what you are, and were I to 
 state in public the enormity of your crime, I should very 
 likely be stoned, you have so skilfullv duped everyone. 
 Who would believe that the notary Douglas, that man 
 esteemed by all, that frugal, religious individual, is shame- 
 lessly working in the dark the ruin of his numerous clients ! 
 I, myself, would still doubt, if doubt were possible, at seeing 
 you seated so calm before me, in your humble and pious 
 attitude of a monk at prayer. But say something, defend 
 yourself, if you can ! "
 
 152 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Douglas had taken up a paper knife, and was playing 
 with it, as though indifferent to all Marius was saying 
 to him. 
 
 "What would you have me tell you?" he replied at 
 last. " You judge me as a child. I've let you have your 
 say. Perhaps now you'll listen to me without interrupting." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE NOTARY'S SPECULATIONS. 
 
 WHEN Marius heard Douglas accuse him of judging 
 like a child, he was indignant, and opened his lips to tell 
 him that he judged as an honest man would. 
 
 This forger thought it childish that he should be 
 reproached with his forgeries, and he assumed the attitude 
 of a misunderstood individual. 
 
 As the young man was on the point of protesting, the 
 notary interrupted him with a movement of impatience. 
 
 "If you're always talking," he said, "you'll always be 
 in the right. I let you insult me to your heart's content, 
 so allow me to defend myself without interruption. I 
 certainly would rather you had not become acquainted 
 with my system. But as you have discovered a part of 
 the truth, I prefer to tell you all. I know you are intel- 
 ligent, and you will understand me better than any other. 
 Moreover, I am worn-out, I have not been successful in 
 the application of my theory, and I know very well that 
 I am a lost man. That's why I consent to unbosom 
 myself entirely to you. You will see that I never wished 
 for anyone's ruin, and that it was with good faith that 
 I offered, as a friend, to put you in the way of earning 
 a little money. Anyhow, you will judge me, and I trust 
 that after hearing my explanation, you will simply look 
 upon me as an unfortunate speculator. Please listen to 
 what I have to say." 
 
 Marius almost fancied he was dreaming. He looked at 
 Douglas as one would look at a madman talking reason. 
 The peaceful tone of the man, his want of remorse, his
 
 THE NOTARY'S SPECULATIONS. 153 
 
 self-satisfied manner, made him resemble some honest 
 inventor sadly explaining, without cause for shame, why his 
 invention has not succeeded. 
 
 " There's no need to go into details," he resumed, " and 
 let us put aside the Authier and Mouttet matters, which 
 are but of slight importance. The thing to see and judge 
 is the whole vast and complicated machine that I had 
 succeeded in establishing. You are surprised at my com- 
 plaisance. Well, I tell you again I am a lost man, I can 
 speak without fear of compromising myself. In fact, I 
 experience a sort of pleasure in explaining my invention 
 to you." 
 
 He took up the position, before Marius, of a man who 
 has an interesting story to tell, and was still toying with 
 the paper-knife. 
 
 "First of all," he said, "I recognise, with you, that I 
 have betrayed my trust and that I am a great criminal if 
 considered as a notary. But I have always looked upon 
 myself as a banker, a money-dealer. In a word, please 
 behold in me nothing more than a speculator. When I 
 succeeded my former employer the practice was a very 
 small one. 
 
 " My first efforts were directed towards making that 
 practice the medium of a vast business connection. I 
 was obliged to satisfy all requirements, lend to whoso- 
 ever needed money, borrow of those who wanted to 
 invest, sell to those who wished to buy, 'purchase of 
 those who desired to sell. I was like the bird-catchers 
 who make use of decoy-birds to call the wild ones; I 
 invented some forty imaginary persons, in whose names I 
 was able to embark in all kinds of transactions. Authier, 
 I admit, was one of them. I was thus enabled to purchase 
 a large number of buildings which I paid for by means 
 of loans contracted by the fictitious purchasers, and by 
 granting mortgages on these buildings. By these means 
 I created a capital, a considerable turn-over, a much more 
 extended practice, which served as a foundation to my 
 credit." 
 
 Douglas was speaking in a clear tone of voice. He continued 
 after a short silence :
 
 154 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " You must know that when one speculates on money 
 one is at times brought face to face with terrible exigencies. 
 I should have been forced to stop at the very outset of 
 my speculations, if, my buildings being mortgaged, I had 
 not been able to procure, by some means, the funds necessary 
 for the other operations I was contemplating. I did what 
 seemed to me the simplest and most convenient thing to 
 do. When the mortgages had reached the full value of 
 the properties, I released the latter by false discharges 
 and then offered them as security for fresh loans." 
 
 " What you are telling me is infamous ! " exclaimed Marius. 
 
 "I begged you not to interrupt me," Douglas retorted 
 abruptly. " I will defend myself later on, at present I am 
 merely stating the facts. I soon had to enlarge my system. 
 My forty personages no longer sufficed, so I then had 
 recourse to extreme measures which from their very audacity, 
 succeeded perfectly. I caused well-known landowners and 
 merchants to contract loans, mortgaged their properties and 
 forged their signatures ; afterwards each fresh mortgage was 
 wiped out by the aid of a false discharge, which shielded 
 me from all uneasiness. You understand ? it's very simple." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I understand," murmured Marius, who was 
 beginning to think the notary was mad. 
 
 " Besides," Douglas went on, " I raised money no matter 
 how, when it was necessary. I wished to go straight to 
 my goal, and I have ever marched steadily on without 
 troubling myself about obstacles, and accepting freely the 
 consequences of my theory. For instance, I sometimes 
 created both the borrower and the building in the same 
 transaction ; I have taken mortgages on a property which 
 did not exist or which did not belong to the pretended 
 borrower. At other times, when I have been in urgent 
 need of money to meet some unforeseen exigency, I have 
 drawn bills payable to order and signed by the leading 
 merchants of Marseilles, and which I have put into circu- 
 lation at a loss after accepting them in my own name. 
 You see that I am hiding nothing from you and that I 
 am accusing myself. I am laying myself bare before you, 
 because I wish to justify myself, and also because, in future, 
 I must give over applying my system."
 
 THE NOTARY'S SPECULATIONS. 155 
 
 Marius was utterly terrified. He entered tremblingly 
 the recesses of this man's mind. He felt that he was in 
 the presence of a moral phenomenon, and he submitted 
 to this strange confession like one submits to a nightmare. 
 It seemed to him that he was in the thick of the roar 
 and smoke of some machine, surrounded by the revolving 
 gear. 
 
 "So," Douglas resumed, "you quite understand what 
 my system was. In principle, 1 wished to be a banker. 
 to turn to account the funds that passed through my 
 hands. I acquired on my own account properties which 
 I fancied I could resell at a profit. My system of ficti- 
 tious names answered all requirements : by the aid of 
 these names I was able to deal with all who applied to 
 me ; I have been, according to the opportunity, lender, 
 borrower, purchaser, and seller. Whenever the funds 
 raised by my personal credit or the credit I had pro- 
 cured for the fictitious individuals did not suffice for my 
 needs, I obtained others by negotiating supposed loans 
 on behalf of no matter who, relative, friend, or client, 
 being careful later on to release that person's property, 
 the same as I had mortgaged it, unbeknown to himself. 
 
 O O ' 
 
 In a word, my office became a banking establishment." 
 
 "A thieving establishment," exclaimed Marius, "a forger's 
 den! " 
 
 Douglas shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You ought by now to understand me," he said, "and 
 to see that I never sought to rob a single one of my 
 clients. I have a hope that you will do me justice by 
 and by. I have now to tell you about my finest inven- 
 tion. To administer the properties acquired and turn the 
 borrowed monies to good account, I conceived the idea 
 of establisting agents acting under power of attorney, 
 who would represent in all matters my fortv imaginary 
 personages; and to fill these posts I selected honourable 
 young men, who became my unconscious accomplices. I 
 had faith in my system ; and I should most certainly have 
 enriched those who assisted me if unfortunate circum- 
 stances had not marred my success. When I proposed 
 to you to represent Authicr, I desired solely, as I have
 
 156 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 already told you, to come to your assistance and give 
 you a share in the profits of a speculation which I con- 
 sidered an excellent one." 
 
 These last words exasperated Marius. He could bear 
 it no longer, and felt he would go mad if he continued 
 to follow Douglas' strange talk. 
 
 " I have listened to you patiently," he said, shaking 
 with indignation. "The rascalities you have been telling 
 me of, with such cool impudence, prove to my mind that 
 you are either a fool or a rogue." 
 
 " Not at all ! " interrupted the notary, striking the table 
 with his fist. " You have certainly not understood me. 
 I have told you four or five times, I'm a banker. Listen 
 to me, for goodness sake." 
 
 Douglas rose and placed himself before Marius. There 
 was nothing in his attitude to indicate either fear or shame. 
 
 "You have called me a rogue and a thief," said he 
 softly, " and I let you insult me, for you were accusing 
 me in the name of society, speaking as the crown attor- 
 ney would speak when judging my conduct from the legal 
 stand-point. You must look at it from another point of 
 view, if you would understand me. Let us reason a bit. 
 A thief is he who steals another's property and makes 
 off when his pockets are full, is he not ? I have never 
 for a moment thought of stealing. I have been applying 
 my system during six years, and I am poorer now than 
 when I first began; my operations have not succeeded, I 
 have even lost some thousands of francs which were my 
 own. You know what my life has been : I have lived 
 on bread and water ; I have led the existence of an 
 austere and indefatigable worker. The only luxury I have 
 allowed myself has been to give a little in chanty. A 
 strange thief, indeed, who has lived in his office as in a 
 cloister and who has handled enormous sums of money 
 without even being tempted to steal a copper ! Admit 
 that if I were really a thief, I should long ago have got 
 together what funds I could and have bolted." 
 
 Marius felt surprised and embarrassed. He had not 
 looked at the matter in that light. The man was evidently 
 right: he could not be accused of robbery.
 
 THE NOTARY'S SPECULATIONS. 157 
 
 "What shocks and incenses you," resumed Douglas, 
 " is my system itself. It has failed, and I shall be considered 
 a great criminal; if it had succeeded, I should have 
 realized a large fortune without doing the slightest injury 
 to anyone. I should have been immensely rich and the 
 world would have esteemed me. Yes, crime has been my 
 base of operation, I have speculated on forgery, I have 
 followed a new and bold line. But to my mind success 
 was certain. I had faith in my activity, it never occurred 
 to me that I might drag another down in my fall. That 
 is wherein I was blind. You see my course of proceeding: 
 I took mortgages on property which did not exist or which 
 had already been mortgaged, but I paid the interest on 
 the money invested; I put forged bills into circulation, 
 but I took them up at maturity ; my imaginary personages 
 were, so to say, nothing more than borrowed names to cover 
 myself, and I made use of them simply to increase my 
 speculations. Understand me well : I wished above all to 
 procure funds and turn them to account ; what matter the 
 fictitious securities I emitted, the forged documents, the 
 different means I employed to extend my credit and the 
 sphere of my business. In speculation, the only reality is 
 the profit one is able to draw, more or less skilfully, 
 from a given capital. Take the Stock Exchange, for 
 instance, there one trades on mere suppositions. Admit 
 for a moment that by buying and selling properties, by 
 means of other people's money, I had succeeded in doubling 
 the capital I had illegally procured: I should have refunded 
 that capital in full, have robbed nobodv, destroyed the 
 forged documents, and have retired with a fortune won 
 by my labour and intelligence. That's my system in its 
 entirety. Having no fortune of my own, I was obliged 
 to borrow of my clients the principal necessary for 
 carrying on my operations. It was no theft, but a mere 
 loan." 
 
 On hearing Douglas' clear and logical reasoning, a kind 
 of terror crept over Marius. The notarv grew terriblv in 
 his eyes. For a moment, he looked upon him as some 
 misguided genius who had employed his rare faculties of 
 and darinir in the cause of evil. IL:d the man
 
 158 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 had large means of action he might perhaps have 
 accomplished great things. There are some superior 
 qualities residing in all criminals of Douglas' calibre. Marius 
 was above all surprised by the simple and natural manner 
 in which the notary spoke of the forgeries he had committed. 
 His mind was undoubtedly disordered. The man was ill, 
 the fever of speculation which devoured him had brought 
 him little by little to look upon crime as an excellent 
 medium, provided the crime remained concealed and 
 unpunished. He had said it himself: though he had 
 forged, he still considered himself an honest man, so long 
 as he caused no one to lose anything. After a pause, 
 Douglas went on, shaking his head the while : 
 
 " Systems are always splendid, practice alone opens 
 your eyes to their defects. In theory, I should have won 
 an immense fortune. I don't know how it has happened, 
 but I am now overwhelmed with debt, and I can see very 
 well that all hope is gone. My unfortunate operations have 
 swallowed up over a million, and my clients are ruined." 
 
 The notary's voice had grown feebler, and emotion 
 was filling his eyes with tears. He walked feverishly up 
 and down, and, as he did so, continued : 
 
 " You've no idea what a frightful life I 've been leading 
 these past two years. Every one of my operations failed, 
 and I found myself face to face with terrible exigencies. 
 To preserve my credit, to conceal my forgeries, I have 
 been daily obliged to commit others. I no longer dreamed 
 of making money, I only thought of defending myself and 
 escaping the galleys. I take heaven to witness that had 
 I been able to get back the money that was lost, I would 
 have reimbursed everyone, and then lived as a law-abiding 
 citizen. But the enormous amount of interest I had to 
 pay crushed me; I resold at a loss the properties I had 
 acquired; in spite of my struggles, ill-luck has clung to 
 me and weighed me down to the very depths of ruin. 
 To-day my liabilities are considerable, I cannot meet this 
 fortnight's bills, and, for me, a suspension of payment 
 means penal servitude. If the authorities were ever to 
 examine my papers, I should be at once arrested and put 
 in prison."
 
 THE NOTARY'S SPECULATIONS. 159 
 
 Marius almost felt disposed to pity the wretch. Douglas 
 sat down again and resumed dejectedly : 
 
 "After all, though, this is the end. I've confessed to 
 you and I know that you're about to hand me over to 
 justice. Let it be so, for my position is no longer bearable. 
 You're right, I'm a scoundrel and I ought to be punished." 
 
 Marius did not stir. He was reflecting, uncertain how 
 to act. One fear stayed him, he did not wish to be mixed 
 up in the matter in case he should be called as a witness, 
 and thus lose precious time which belonged to his mis- 
 sion. Moreover, it was not his business to denounce the 
 notary. There was no escape now for the man, he was 
 fatally on the road to his punishment, and would fall of 
 his own accord into his judges' hands. 
 
 "Well! why do you hesitate?" asked Douglas. "You 
 know all. I'll await here the police officers you are 
 going for." 
 
 The young man rose from his chair, and tore up the 
 documents containing his name. 
 
 "You are a wretch," he replied, "my judgment has not 
 changed. But there is no need for me to assist justice, 
 which will know how to punish you without my help. 
 Your chastisement will come of itself." 
 
 And he walked out of the office. 
 
 Here is the end of this episode : On the morrow, 
 Douglas, unable to meet his engagements, took to flight. 
 Marseilles was panic-stricken at the news. Several fortunes 
 were compromised, and it was impossible at first to gauge 
 the full extent of the disaster. It was a kind of public 
 misfortune. With the dismay of those concerned was 
 mingled the astonishment of all honest persons: (hey could 
 not forgive the notary the hvpocrisy with which he had 
 deceived a whole city during several years. 
 
 Douglas was caught and tried at Aix, in the midst of 
 a terrible feeling of irritation. He accepted his position 
 with rare coolness. Without his assistance the authorities 
 would never have succeeded in unravelling such an intricate 
 affair. The court had to pronounce on more than nine 
 hundred deeds infected with cverv kind of forgery, varied in so 
 manv wavs that the human mind could not have conceived
 
 l6o THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 any combination of which the forger had not made use. 
 The misdeeds laid to his charge were so numerous, were 
 complicated with so many details, and affected so great 
 a number of victims, that it would have been impossible 
 to have seen clearly amidst the chaos without the assist- 
 ance of him who, after imagining and putting his crimes into 
 execution, could alone unravel the .skein of them. Dou- 
 glas set to work with indefatigable zeal and surprising 
 truthfulness to clear up the disorder of his affairs, and to 
 fix his own position, as well as those of his creditors and 
 debtors. 
 
 He continued to energetically defend himself against 
 the accusation of theft. He repeated that he was an 
 unfortunate speculator, and if justice and circumstances 
 had permitted him, he would have retrieved his affairs as 
 well as those of his clients. He seemed to be accusing 
 the court of binding his hands, of preventing him repairing 
 the harm he had done. 
 
 He was condemned to penal servitude for life and to 
 be publicly exhibited in the pillory at Marseilles. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 HOW AN UGLY MAN MAY BECOME HANDSOME. 
 
 IT was now more than two months since Marius and Fine 
 had returned to Marseilles. 
 
 On leaving the notary's office, the young man had to 
 own to himself that up till then he had been wasting his 
 time, and that so far he had not obtained the first franc 
 of the fifteen thousand he required for Philippe's safety. 
 After all, he knew only how to show his love and devotion ; 
 he felt he had a soul too upright, a mind too loyal and 
 too generously artless for him to be able to procure in a 
 few weeks the large sum he was so despairingly seeking. 
 He had always acted like a child. The deplorable inci- 
 dents with which he had recently found himself mixed 
 up, the loves of Armande and Sauvaire, Douglas' hypocrisy 
 and forgeries, had shown him life under a terrifying aspect
 
 HOW AN UGLY MAN MAY BECOME HANDSOME. I 6 1 
 
 which discouraged him. He retreated instead of advancing, 
 he feared, in making another attempt, to fail and even 
 compromise himself, by falling again into the hands of 
 rogues who would take advantage of him. In his suspicious 
 state, he saw nothing but snares around him. Such tender 
 hearts, ignorant of evil and desirous of good, are predestined 
 to be wounded and made to bleed at every hour of the day. 
 
 Yet the month of December was drawing nigh, and it 
 was necessary to make haste if Philippe was to be saved. 
 No further mercy would be shown, and the condemned 
 man would be undoubtedly fastened to the infamous pil- 
 lory. At that thought, Marius shed tears of impotence 
 and weariness. He would lie could have freed his brother 
 by some herculean task ; if he had been put to the proof, 
 he would have undertaken to pierce the prison wall with 
 his nails, to have scraped and crumbled the stone away 
 beneath his fingers. That laborious exploit would not 
 have appeared to him a hard one and he would have 
 succeeded in it although he wore his fingers to the bone. 
 But the thought of the fifteen thousand francs terrified 
 him ; once it was a question of money, of taking humi- 
 liating steps or of engaging in more or less equivocal 
 dealings, he went off his head and felt incapable of con- 
 ducting the least enterprise to a successful conclusion. 
 This explained the artless confidence which had taken 
 him to Armancle and Douglas. 
 
 All hope, however, was not yet dead within him. Thanks 
 to those same qualities which were his weakness, to his 
 kindly heart and upright mind, he always returned to 
 thoughts of self-reliance and hope. The lessons which 
 the ignominies of life had taught him, could not prevent 
 him still believing in the helpful sympathy of others. 
 
 " I have more than six weeks before me yet," he thought. 
 "It's impossible that I shall not find some true friend 
 by then. There's no reason for despair." 
 
 He would certainly have fallen ill with the anguish, the 
 hopes and disappointments of his task, if he hail not had 
 a comforter at hand who smiled at him when most depres- 
 sed. A strong friendship had grown up between him and 
 the Cougourdans. He went nearly every day to see Fine
 
 1 62 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 and spent long evenings in her society. At the beginning 
 they talked together of Philippe; then, whilst not forgetting 
 the poor prisoner, they conversed about themselves, about 
 their childhood and future. These were chats quite free 
 from all restraint which rested them after the fatigues 
 and anxieties of the day, and gave them fresh courage 
 for the morrow. 
 
 Every morning Marius, little by little, began ardently 
 to long for the evening, in order to find himself back in 
 Fine's little room. When he had a gleam of hope he 
 ran to tell it to his friend, and when he had met with 
 some disappointment he also hastened to relate it to her 
 and be consoled. It was only there, in that clean and 
 tidy attic which smelt so sweet and looked so gay, that 
 he felt at ease in the midst of his tender sadness. 
 
 One evening he persisted in helping the young woman 
 who was making up some bouquets for the morrow's sale; 
 he took a childish delight in removing the thorns from 
 the roses, in gathering up the pinks into slender bunches, 
 in delicately taking one by one the violets and margue- 
 rites and handing them to Fine. From that time he became a 
 florist every evening between eight and ten. The work 
 amused him, he said, and quieted his anxieties. If ever 
 his fingers touched Fine's when handing her the flowers, 
 he felt a gentle warmth rise to his face ; the strange 
 uneasiness, the penetrating emotion he then experienced, 
 was no doubt the sole cause of his sudden inclination 
 for making bouquets. 
 
 Marius was certainly a simpleton. He would have been 
 much surprised, even hurt, if anyone had told him that 
 he was falling in love with Fine. He would have exclaimed 
 that he knew he was much too ugly to dare to love the 
 young woman, and that, moreover, such a love, born and 
 developed in the shadow of his brother's misfortune, would 
 have seemed to him a crime. But his heart would soon 
 have protested. 
 
 He had never lived much in the society of a woman, and 
 had let himself be caught by the first affectionate glance 
 bestowed upon him. Fine, consoling and encouraging 
 him, ever ready with a caressing smile and a warm pressure of
 
 HOW AN UGLY MAN MAY BECOME HANDSOME. I 63 
 
 the hand seemed to him, at first, both a sister and a mother 
 whom heaven had sent him in his affliction. The truth 
 was that unbeknown to himself this sister, this mother, 
 was becoming a bride, a bride whom he already loved 
 with all the tender and devoted ardour of his heart. 
 And this love was bound to spring up between two young 
 people who wept and smiled in company. Chance had 
 brought them together and their goodness was uniting 
 them. They were worthy of each other, they possessed 
 the all-powerful sympathy of devotion. 
 
 For some time past a sly smile, which Marius had 
 failed to notice, had been playing about Fine's lips. She 
 guessed the young man loved her long before he him- 
 self had become aware of his love. Women have a 
 special gift of penetrating this sort of secret; they can 
 read in their lovers' eyes and see into the innermost 
 recesses of their souls. The flower-girl, however, was 
 careful to hide her blushes; she schooled herself to remain 
 Marius' cordial friend, and not to open his eyes by a 
 warmer grasp of the hand. To see them each evening, 
 seated opposite one another, with a table covered with 
 roses between them, one would have taken them for 
 brother and sister. 
 
 On Sundays Fine went to Saint Henri. She felt a 
 sort of sympathetic pity, a compassionate friendship for 
 Blanche. The poor young girl who was soon to become 
 a mother, and whose life was for ever blighted, became 
 every day dearer to her; she saw her remorse, her tears 
 of regret, she assisted at her disconsolate existence, and 
 sought by her visits to assuage her misery. She brought 
 her bright smile to that little house by the sea, where 
 Blanche was weeping as she thought of Philippe and her 
 unborn babe. It was like a holy pilgrimage for the flower- 
 girl and she accomplished it religiously. She started off 
 about midday, after luncheon, and remained till dusk 
 with Mademoiselle de Ca/.alis. In the evening, as night 
 was falling, she found Marius waiting for her on the 
 sea-shore, and they returned together to Marseilles on 
 foot, arm-in-arm like a young married couple. 
 
 Marius tasted pure joy during these walks. Sunday
 
 164 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 evening became for him the reward of all his efforts of 
 the week. He waited for Fine by the sea, forgetful of 
 his sorrows, feverishly watching for the young woman's 
 arrival; then, when she was there, they smiled at each 
 other and returned slowly in the soft shadows of the 
 gathering night, exchanging words of friendship and hope. 
 Never did the young man think the road long enough. 
 
 One Sunday, Marius arrived early. As a feeling of 
 delicacy prevented him calling at Blanche's house and so 
 adding to her grief, he sat down on the cliff which rises 
 near the village, and took patience in watching the blue 
 immensity spread out before him. He remained there 
 nearly two hours, lost in a vague reverie, in thoughts of 
 love and happiness which softly lulled him. The immense 
 horizon moved him ; unconsciously, his love for Fine rose 
 from his heart to his lips; the sea and sky, the infinity 
 of the waters and the air affected him, opened his soul; 
 he beheld but Fine in the boundless sea, he heard but 
 her name in the dull and regular murmur of the waves. 
 
 The flower-girl arrived and seated herself on the rock 
 beside the young man, who took her hand without speaking. 
 Before them was spread the sea and heavens, both of a soft 
 pale blue. Twilight was falling. Profound serenity was 
 alike enfeebling the last sounds and the last rays. Thin 
 rosy gleams in the west were casting their delicate reflections 
 on the rocks of the shore. There was a breath of 
 tenderness in the air, a great quivering voice which grew 
 softer and softer. Deeply moved, Marius kept his friend's 
 hand in his, as he continued his dream. His eyes fixed 
 on the horizon, on that vague haze where heaven and 
 sea mingle together, he was smiling sadly. And in a low 
 voice, and quite unconsciously, his lips gave utterance 
 to the thoughts of his heart. 
 
 "No, no," he murmured, "I am too ugly." 
 
 From the moment Marius took her hand, Fine had 
 been smiling in her sly and tender way. At last her friend 
 was going to make up his mind to speak; she guessed 
 it from the deeper look in his eyes, his tighter grasp. When 
 she heard the young man say he was too ugly, she seemed 
 surprised and annoyed.
 
 HOW AN UGLY MAN MAY BECOME HANDSOME. I 65 
 
 "Too ugly! " she exclaimed; "but you are quite hand- 
 some, Marius! " 
 
 Fine had put so much feeling into the cry which had 
 escaped her, that Marius looked round and clasped his 
 hands, as he gazed at her anxiously. She, feeling that 
 she had abruptly delivered up the secret of her heart, 
 lowered her face, which became covered with blushes. 
 She remained thus, speechless and embarrassed, during 
 some seconds. But she was not the girl to withdraw from 
 the complete avowal of her love; she possessed too much 
 frankness and sprightliness to indulge in the hypocritical 
 comedy which most young persons in love go through on 
 similar occasions. She courageously raised her face and 
 looked straight at Marius, who was trembling. 
 
 " Listen, my friend," she said to him. " I wish to speak 
 frankly. Six months ago I hardly thought of you at all. 
 I considered you to be ugly, no doubt I had never really 
 looked at you. To-day, I think you quite handsome. 
 I don't know how it has happened, I assure you 
 
 In spite of her resolution, she hesitated a little, and 
 sudden blushes again covered her cheeks. She stopped 
 short, unable to tell Marius plainly that she loved him. 
 She knew the young man's timidity and had spoken solelv 
 to encourage him. 
 
 Marius remained in his state of tender ecstasy; he 
 required no more, and would have remained there on 
 the cliff all night, without seeking to obtain from Fine 
 a more complete avowal. She was growing impatient. 
 
 The storv of her love was a simple one. At first she 
 had admired Philippe's tall frame and energetic counte- 
 nance, with that blindness of young girls which prompts 
 them to choose handsome lads, those who carrv all their 
 beauty on their faces and none in their souls. Then 
 wounded to the heart by the indifference of Blanche's 
 lover, seeing at last clearly into his vain nature, she had 
 begun to look more severelv upon his conduct and had 
 become little by little estranged from him. It was at this 
 time that she found herself frequently with Marius, in an 
 intimacy which brought them closer and closer together. 
 
 In this instance love had been born of kindliness.
 
 l66 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Marius, ugly to the eyes became beautiful for the heart. 
 At first, Fine had seen in him merely a disheartened 
 friend who needed help; she had undertaken half his task 
 in a sisterly way, prompted a little by love for Philippe and 
 a great deal by a natural desire to be serviceable. She 
 had therefore joined Marius, and their common thought 
 of deliverance had united them more each day. It was 
 thus that their affection grew, they loved each other 
 through their self-devotion, whilst living on the same 
 hope and working for the same object. 
 
 And it was in the accomplishment of this generous task 
 that Marius became handsome. The comparison which 
 Fine could not help drawing between Philippe and Marius, 
 made the latter appear an exceptional being, the charm- 
 ing prince of young girls' dreams. Marius' countenance 
 became forthwith transfigured in her eyes ; it appeared to 
 her quite handsome with all the beauty of his loyal and 
 tender nature. She would have been immensely surprised 
 had anyone told her her lover was ugly. 
 
 Marius could still hear the young woman's cry, that 
 cry of the heart which as good as told him : " You are 
 handsome, and I love you ! " He dared not speak, fearing 
 to dispel the sweet dream which was so deliciously sooth- 
 ing his mind. Fine, in her embarrassment, continued to 
 smile. 
 
 " You don't believe me ? " she asked, speaking merely 
 for the sake of speaking, and scarcely knowing what she 
 was saying. 
 
 "Yes, I believe you," Marius replied in a low deep 
 voice, " I need to believe you. When you were not there, 
 the murmur of the waves told me a secret. I don't know 
 what is the matter with the sea and the sky this evening. 
 They speak in so sweet a voice that they have moved 
 my heart and disturbed my mind. At this close of day, 
 amidst the sadness of the twilight, I have just discovered 
 within myself a happiness I had never dreamed of. 
 Would you like to know the secret the waves whispered 
 in my ear ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the young woman, while her emotion 
 caused her hand to tremble.
 
 HOW AN UGLY MAN MAY BECOME HANDSOME. 167 
 
 Marius leant towards her, and murmured in a faint and 
 timid tone of voice : 
 
 "The waves told me that I loved you." 
 
 The shadows were falling more grey and solemn. In 
 the heavens, lights appeared amid a milky transparency. 
 The dark blue motionless sea was slumbering as it wafted 
 its sluggish heavy breath. Fresh and briny odours arose, 
 borne by the evening breeze, and the serenity of space 
 spread in the advancing night. The hour was a fit one 
 for an avowal of love. A divine tenderness, a smiling 
 calm came from the vast compassionate sea. At the foot 
 of the cliff the waves were slowly breaking, lulling the 
 sleeping coast; whilst, from the earth, still hot and fever- 
 ish, rose a fierce breath of passion. It seemed as though 
 the vast sea was adding its voice to Marius's tender 
 words . 
 
 " Well," said the flower-girl gaily, " the waves are 
 chatter-boxes. But did they tell you the truth?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," he exclaimed, " the waves spoke the truth. 
 I feel it now, my friend, I've been loving you for months 
 past. Ah ! what a lot of good this avowal does me. For 
 a long time past I have felt there was something wanting : 
 when I was in your presence, I became penetrated by 
 some pleasant sensation, I could hear some indistinct 
 voices within me, and I could not make out what they 
 were whispering. Now, the silence of this cliff has sufficed 
 for me to hear them tell of my love." 
 
 Fine listened to Marius's words with a smile on her 
 lips. The shadows were becoming more and more bluish 
 and mysterious. Marius hesitated for a moment, then 
 asked in soft and humble tone of voice: 
 
 "You are not angry at what I am telling you? I know 
 very well that you cannot love me.'' 
 
 "You know nothing at all," replied Fine, with abrupt 
 tenderness. "Good heavens! what a time you are making 
 up your mind! My answer has been ready for more than 
 a month past." 
 
 " And what is it ? " 
 
 "Ask the waves," the young woman answered, with a 
 laugh.
 
 168 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 She held out her hands to Marius, who kissed them 
 passionately. It was now quite dark, and the dull moan 
 of the sea lingered voluptuously in the gloom. The young 
 man bent over the young woman and their lips met. 
 Then they talked as lovers do, in the puerile way of chil- 
 dren, going from recollections of the past to projects for 
 the future. Their voices were a music which caressed 
 them, and they talked to hear each other speak, to feel 
 one another's warm breath play about their faces. They 
 were so happy in the obscurity, in face of the infinite 
 which lay open before them ! 
 
 "Listen," said Fine, "we will get married when your 
 brother is free. Philippe must be placed in safety first." 
 
 At the mention of Philippe's name, Marius shuddered. 
 He had forgotten his brother. The sad reality rose before 
 him. For two hours he had been living in the seventh 
 heaven, and now he had fallen back to the earth from 
 the height of his dream. 
 
 "Philippe," he murmured despondently, "yes, we must 
 think of him. O heavens! is my happiness already dead? 
 You love my brother, do you not? For mercy's sake, tell 
 me the truth." 
 
 Fine said nothing, but burst into sobs. The young man's 
 words were breaking her heart. In his despair, he pressed 
 for an answer, and at last the flower-girl cried : 
 
 " I love you because you are good, because you know 
 how to love. So you see well enough that I cannot love 
 Philippe." 
 
 There was such a burst of faith and love in this cry 
 that Marius at last understood. He placed his arms 
 around her in a sudden transport of adoration. And then 
 he had a slight feeling of remorse. 
 
 "We are happy," he observed, "and egotistical. Whilst 
 we are breathing here the free air of heaven, our brother 
 is pining in prison. Ah ! we know not how to work for 
 his deliverance." 
 
 "Yes, you'll see!" Fine replied. "You'll see what one 
 can do, when one's in love and loved in return." 
 
 They remained hand in hand, without saying another 
 word, while the sea continued to lull their love with its
 
 HOSTILITIES ARE RENEWED. 169 
 
 monotonous voice. The stars were shining brightly as 
 they re-entered Marseilles, their hearts full of their young 
 hopes and affection. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 HOSTILITIES ARE RENEWED. 
 
 BLANCHE passed her days in tears. The autumn was 
 giving a pale hue to the melancholy horizon, the season 
 was becoming cold and dreary. Chill blasts stirred the 
 sea whose voice had changed into a wail, whilst the trees 
 were casting their leaves upon the ground. Beneath the 
 mournful nudity of the heavens lay the bareness of the 
 sea and shore. 
 
 This sadness of the air, this last farewell of summer 
 spread over Blanche's surroundings the despair which 
 already filled her heart. She led a retired life in the little 
 house by the shore. It was situated a short distance from 
 the village of Saint Henri, stood alone upon a cliff and 
 overlooked the sea which beat against the rocks beneath 
 the windows. Blanche would spend whole days together 
 watching and listening to the waves, whose constant noise 
 soothed her sufferings. This was her sole diversion ; she 
 followed with her eyes the great sheets of foam which 
 broke and leapt into the air; her aching being found relief 
 in presence of the mild and monotonous immensity. 
 
 Occasionally of an evening she would go out, accom- 
 panied bv her companion. She would descend to the 
 sea-shore and seat herself on a fragment of rock. The 
 cool night breeze calmed the fever that was consuming 
 her. She would linger in the darkness, deafened by the 
 breaking of the waves upon the beach, and not return 
 home until she was shivering with the cold. The same 
 thought was ever oppressing her. At each succeeding 
 hour it was there, overwhelming, inexorable. In the 
 chilliness of the night or the warmth of the day, in pre- 
 sence of the infinite or before the void of darkness, Blanche 
 thought of Philippe and her unborn babe.
 
 170 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Fine was her great consoler. If the flower-girl had not 
 consented to spend the Sunday afternoons with her, the 
 poor young creature would have died of despair. She felt 
 an imperious need of confiding her grief to some kind 
 soul. Solitude frightened her; for, when she found herself 
 alone again, her remorse rose before her like a spectre 
 and filled her with terror. Directly Fine arrived, they 
 both went up to a little room where they shut themselves 
 in to talk and weep undisturbed. The window stood open, 
 and far away, on the blue velvet of the sea, white sails 
 would pass like messengers of hope. And, on each oc- 
 casion, the same tears were shed, the same words spoken, 
 heart-rending and pathetic. 
 
 "Oh! how gloomy life is," said Blanche. "I've been 
 thinking all day of the hours I passed with Philippe 
 among the rocks of Jaumegarde and the Infernets. I ought 
 to have killed myself in those gulfs, have fallen down some 
 precipice. " 
 
 " Why be always weeping, ever regretting ? " Fine gently 
 replied. " You're no longer a little girl, and have sacred 
 duties to fulfil. For heaven's sake, think of the present, 
 and no longer linger in an ever irreparable past. You 
 will end by making yourself ill, by killing your child." 
 
 Blanche shuddered. 
 
 " Kill my child ! " she resumed, amidst her sobs. " Do 
 not say that. The child must live to atone for my trans- 
 gression and obtain my pardon. Ah ! Philippe was right 
 when he said that I should belong to him for ever. Though 
 I denied him, I have vainly tried to tear the memory of 
 him from my heart. My pride has been crushed, and I 
 have been obliged to yield to the love filled with remorse 
 which is torturing me. And, to-day, I love Philippe 
 more than ever I did before, with all my regrets and all 
 my despair." 
 
 Fine said nothing. She would have liked to have seen 
 Blanche stronger and prepared for the difficult task mater- 
 nity was about to bring her. But Mademoiselle de Cazalis 
 was always the poor, weak creature who could do nothing 
 but cry. The flower-girl determined to act herself when 
 the time came.
 
 HOSTILITIES ARE RENEWED. 171 
 
 " If you knew," continued Blanche, " how I suffer when 
 you're not here ! I feel Philippe torturing me : he lives 
 again in my child, and is ever with me, reproaching me 
 with my perjury. He is always before me, or about me. 
 I can see him on his pallet, in his cell, I hear him com- 
 plaining and cursing me. I would I had no heart, then 
 I might live in peace." 
 
 "Come, you must be calm," said Fine. 
 
 With such despair consolation is often powerless. The 
 young woman assisted with a certain terror at these scenes 
 of distress. She studied Blanche's shattered love like a 
 physician studies some strange and terrible malady, and 
 said to herself: "That is how one suffers, that is what one 
 becomes, when one loves timidly." 
 
 One day, when in one of her fits of despair, Blanche 
 said in a broken voice, with her eyes fixed upon her 
 companion : 
 
 "You are going to marry him, are you not?" 
 
 Fine did not at first understand Blanche, who added 
 hastily : 
 
 " Hide nothing from me. I would rather know all. You 
 are a good girl and will make him happy, and I prefer 
 to see him married to you than to know he is gadding 
 about Marseilles. When I am dead, tell him that I always 
 loved him." 
 
 And she burst into sobs. The flower-girl gently took 
 her hands. 
 
 "I beg you," she said, "think no more of your lover, 
 but think of your child. If possible, forget everything for 
 it. Besides, be easy, I shall never marry Philippe, though 
 I may become his sister 
 
 "His sister?" interrupted Mademoiselle de Cazalis. 
 
 "Yes," answered Fine, smiling sweetly as she thought 
 of Marius. "I love and am beloved." 
 
 And she told her the story of her love, appeasing her 
 fever by speaking to her of Marius. As she listened to 
 the recital of this peaceful courtship, Blanche's tears fell 
 less fast. From that day forth, she loved Fine far more; 
 she felt only a faint sadness when thinking of Philippe, 
 and determined to devote herself to her child. True
 
 172 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 love, the devoted generous love of her friend had entered 
 her heart. 
 
 Sometimes, Fine found Abbe Chastanier in the little 
 house on the cliff. The priest took Blanche the consola- 
 tions of religion; he sustained her by talking to her of 
 Heaven, by withdrawing her thoughts from the world and 
 its passions. He would have liked to have seen Made- 
 moiselle de Cazalis enter a convent, for he felt that there 
 was no longer any happiness possible for her amid the 
 pleasures of society. She would have to remain everlastingly 
 a widow, and she did not possess the strength of mind 
 necessary to make herself a peaceful existence in her 
 widowhood. But the poor priest was very ignorant of 
 matters relating to the heart. Blanche much preferred to 
 weep with Fine whilst talking of Philippe, than to listen 
 to Abbe Chastanier's sermons. Yet the old man spoke 
 to her at times in profound accents, and the girl looked 
 at him with surprise, seized with a desire to penetrate into 
 the peaceful world in which he lived. She wished to kneel 
 down, to remain for ever in obeisance, absorbed in an 
 ecstasy that would have delivered her from all her suf- 
 ferings. It was thus that she became little by little that 
 which she was destined to be, a servant of God, one of 
 those holy women whom the world has wounded and who 
 ascend to heaven before their death. 
 
 One day, Abbe Chastanier remained till evening, and 
 left with Fine. He had to tell the flower-girl some bad 
 news which he did not wish to mention before Blanche. 
 He found Marius on the shore awaiting his sweetheart. 
 
 "My dear child," he said, "there is more trouble in 
 store for you. M. de Cazalis wrote to me yesterday. He 
 is much surprised that the sentence pronounced against your 
 brother has not yet been carried out, and informs me 
 he is taking steps to hasten the date of the public 
 exhibition in the pillory. How are you getting on ? Do 
 you hope soon to secure the prisoner's release? " 
 
 "Well, no," replied Marius sorrowfully, "I am no 
 farther advanced than on the first day. I hoped to have 
 still at least six weeks before me." 
 
 "I do not think," the abbe resumed, "that M. de
 
 DOUGLAS IN THE PILLORY AT MARSEILLES. 173 
 
 Cazalis will be able to induce the president to break faith 
 with us. Besides, our interview has remained secret, and 
 that makes me believe that the exhibition will not take 
 place till the end of December, as promised. But I advise 
 you to make haste. One can never say what may happen, 
 and I thought it right to let you know what I had been 
 told." 
 
 Fine and Marius were in dismay. They returned to 
 Marseilles with the priest, silently and again a prey to 
 their anguish. "Their love had in a sense blinded them 
 during a week, and now they once more beheld the same 
 abyss before them. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 DOUGLAS IN THE PILLORY AT MARSEILLES. 
 
 SOMK few mornings afterwards, towards nine o'clock, as 
 Marius was on his way to his office, he found the Rue 
 Paradis full of a noisy crowd which was going in the 
 direction of the Cannebiere. He stopped at the corner of 
 the Rue de la Darse, and, standing on tip-toe, caught a 
 glimpse of the Place Royale full of people. It was like 
 a sea of human heads. The unceasing flow of the crowd 
 about him continued on its way with a noisy hum. 
 
 The keen curiosity evinced by the mob gradually took 
 hold of Marius also. Stray words which he caught from 
 time to time filled him with vague anxiety; and he also 
 wished to go and see: he allowed himself to be carried 
 along by the crowd which was streaming down the street 
 like a torrent. He easily reached the Place Rovale, but 
 there the throng which surged from the Rue Paradis broke 
 itself against a compact immovable mass of people. All 
 were standing on tip-toe, and looking in the direction of 
 the Cannebiere. 
 
 The young man obtained a vague view of some soldiers 
 on horseback. He could distinguish nothing else, and did 
 not yet guess what painful sight could thus attract the 
 entire population of the citv. The crowd about him was
 
 174 TH E MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 shouting. Voices gave utterance to sudden sharp words 
 which rose above the discordant hum of the multitude, 
 and reached him distinctly. 
 
 " He arrived from Aix during the night." 
 
 "Yes, and he'll start to-morrow for Toulon." 
 
 " I should like to see what figure he cuts." 
 
 " They say he burst into sobs, when he saw the execu- 
 tioner bring the cords." 
 
 " No ! no ! he kept up well. Believe me he's a plucky 
 fellow, who doesn't weep like a woman." 
 
 "Ah! the scoundrel! the people should stone him." 
 
 " I shall try and get nearer." 
 
 " Wait for me. They must be hooting him there. I 
 want to join in." 
 
 These words, interspersed with jeers, and yelled out with 
 angry gesticulations, sounded cruelly in Marius' ears. A 
 genuine terror seized him, and a cold sweat broke out 
 on his forehead. He was frightened and incapable of 
 reasoning. He asked himself in his anguish who the man 
 could be whom the mob was hurrying to insult. The 
 crowd was growing denser and more eager every moment ; 
 and he saw that he would never be able to pierce the 
 formidable mass before him. So he decided to get round 
 the Place Royale. He went slowly down the Rue Vacon, 
 took the Rue Beauveau, and eventually reached the 
 Cannebiere. There, a strange sight awaited him. 
 
 The whole extent of the Cannebiere, from the harbour 
 to the Cours Belzunce, was filled by an immense mob 
 which was added to every minute. Throngs of people were 
 streaming down every street. At times, a breath of anger 
 rushed through the crowd, and then shouts arose, spread 
 like vast billows, with the deep murmur of the sea. All 
 the windows were filled with spectators; urchins had 
 climbed up the shop-fronts along the houses. All Mar- 
 seilles was there, and each head was eagerly gazing in 
 the same direction. There were more than sixty thousand 
 persons on the Cannebiere staring and hooting. 
 
 When Marius had succeeded in drawing near, he then 
 understood what kind of sight was attracting and detaining 
 the crowd. In the centre of the Cannebiere, opposite the
 
 DOUGLAS IN THE PILLORY AT MARSEILLES. 175 
 
 Place Royale, stood a scaffold made of rough planks, on 
 which was a man tied to a post. Two companies of 
 infantry, a picket of mounted gendarmerie and chasseurs 
 were drawn round the platform and protecting the culprit 
 against the increasing fury of the mob. 
 
 At first Marius only beheld the wretch fastened to the 
 pillory and towering above the crowd. A horrible anxiety 
 made him seek to see the man's face. Perhaps it was 
 Philippe! Perhaps M. de Cazalis had succeeded in having 
 the date of the execution of the sentence advanced ! At 
 that thought Marius' sight became confused, tears filled 
 his eyes, and there was like a thick cloud hanging befoie 
 his gaze which prevented him distinguishing anything. 
 He leant against a shop, feeling faint, and stabbed to the 
 heart by each shout of the crowd. In his feverish state, 
 he ended by really believing that he recognised his brother 
 on the scaffold, that it was indeed Philippe who was there 
 and whom the multitude was insulting. The shame, pain, 
 and pity which then took possession of him, filled him 
 with atrocious anguish. During several minutes he 
 remained like one annihilated ; then he recovered sufficient 
 courage to raise his head and look. 
 
 The wretched man was firmly tied to the post. He 
 wore a vest and trousers of grey canvas. His head was 
 covered by a cap, and he had drawn the peak down 
 over his eyes. He obstinately held his head bent, thus 
 preventing the spectators seeing his features. His face 
 was turned towards the port, and he never once raised 
 his head to gaze at the broad sea which spread out before 
 him, free and happy. 
 
 When Marius had again looked at the .prisoner, he felt 
 a doubt and with it relief. The man seemed twice as 
 stout as his brother. Moreover, he knew Philippe, and 
 was confident that he would not have bowed his head 
 thus, but would have considered it a duty to return 
 the crowd scorn for scorn. Yet Marius still had a vague 
 fear: the hidden face disquieted him, he would have liked 
 to have had a clear view of the culprit's features. 
 
 All about the young man the mob continued to utter 
 exclamations, yells of anger or irony.
 
 I 76 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 "Hold up your head, you rogue! show us your face, 
 you scoundrel ! " 
 
 "Oh! he'll never look up, he's frightened." 
 
 " Well, he's harmless now. He's got his hands tied 
 and will never again rob anybody." 
 
 "You think so, do you? He almost stole his pardon." 
 
 " Yes, yes, some rich, pious people tried to have him 
 spared the ignominy of the pillory." 
 
 "A poor man wouldn't have met with such sympathy." 
 
 " But the king didn't give way ; he said the punishment 
 must be the same for all scoundrels, whether high or low." 
 
 "Oh! the king's a good fellow." 
 
 "Hi! Douglas, rogue, rascal, thief, hypocrite, you 
 won't play any more of your pranks, my friend; you 
 won't go again to church to pray to have your forgeries 
 concealed ! " 
 
 Marius breathed more freely. The cries he heard told 
 him at last who was the sufferer. Then he recognised 
 Douglas, he caught a distinct view of the ex-notary's pale 
 fat face. But, in the inmost recesses of his heart, he 
 thought of his brother, and remembered that Philippe also 
 might have to confront the jeers and howls of the mob. 
 
 The multitude was still roaring. 
 
 " He's ruined more than fifty families. Penal servitude 
 is too light a punishment for him." 
 
 "We should take the law into our own hands." 
 
 " Yes, that's it, we r ll capture him and lynch him, when 
 he passes by." 
 
 " Look how comfortable he seems up there." 
 
 " He doesn't suffer half enough, he ought to be hung 
 up by his feet." 
 
 " Ah ! there's the executioner about to untie him. Come 
 along." 
 
 It was true, and Douglas left the scaffold. He was 
 placed in a little open cart, drawn by a single horse, 
 which was to take him back to the prison. At this moment, 
 there was a great commotion amongst the people. Every- 
 body rushed forward, to hoot and perhaps kill the wretch. 
 But the foot soldiers surrounded the cart whilst those on 
 horseback galloped about and broke up the mob.
 
 MARIUS LOSES HIS WITS. 177 
 
 Marius looked a last time at the culprit with intense 
 pity. The man was, no doubt, very guilty, but the 
 calvary of shame he was ascending turned him rather into 
 an object of commiseration than of anger. The young 
 man had remained leaning against a shop. As he was 
 watching the departure of the cart, he heard two workmen, 
 who were passing by, say : 
 
 " We'll come back next month. You know, they're 
 going to exhibit that fellow who carried off the young lady. 
 It'll be more amusing." 
 
 "Ah! yes, Philippe Cayol. I knew him, he's a big 
 chap. We must find out the proper day so as not to 
 miss it. There'll be a fine to-do." 
 
 The workmen went off, and Marius remained with a 
 pale face and an aching heart. The men were right : in 
 a month's time it would be his brother's turn. And he 
 reflected that chance had caused him to assist at all 
 the horrors Philippe would have to go through. He 
 knew now what sufferings awaited him, he could fancy 
 him in Douglas' place and pictured to himself the horrible 
 scene that would be enacted. His anguish kept him a 
 long time with closed eyes and ears full of a confused 
 hum: lie was seeing Philippe on the scaffold, and listening 
 to the laughing crowd insulting him. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 MARIUS LOSES HIS WITS. 
 
 As Marius was leaning against the shop-front, his eyes 
 fixed on the ground, and deeply affected by the scene at 
 which he had been assisting, he felt a hand laid on his 
 shoulder with friendly roughness. He looked up and beheld 
 Sauvaire, the master-stevedore, before him. 
 
 " Well ! my young friend, what on earth are you doing 
 there?" Sauvaire exclaimed, with a hearty laugh. "One 
 would think you were going to be tied to that post." 
 And he pointed to the scaffold. 
 
 Sauvaire was gaily dressed: he wore a coat and trousers 
 
 12
 
 178 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 of fine cloth, and his partly buttoned waistcoat gave a 
 view of his white shirt. His heavy watch-chain, with its 
 massive charms, was displayed complacently. As it was 
 scarcely ten o'clock, the master-stevedore was still in his 
 slippers, with his soft felt hat cocked on his head and his 
 beautiful meerschaum pipe between his teeth. One felt 
 that the whole pavement of the Cannebiere belonged to 
 him ; he was quite at home there, occupying as much 
 room as possible, and watching the passers-by in a familiar 
 and patronizing way. With his hands in his pockets 
 stretching out his trousers, his legs wide apart, he examined 
 Marius with a look of superiority that was full of condes- 
 cension. 
 
 " You seem worried and ill," he added. "Do as I do : 
 keep well, eat and drink heartily, lead a merry life. Ah ! 
 as for me, I don't know what grief is. I'm strong, I've 
 got a good digestion, and I can spend a hundred francs 
 whenever I like. I know one must be well off to do as I 
 do. Everybody isn't rich." 
 
 He eyed Marius pitifully, and found him so puny and 
 pale, that he was delighted at feeling himself plump and 
 red beside him. At that moment he would willingly have 
 lent the young man a thousand francs. 
 
 Marius was not listening to his prating. He had shaken 
 his hand in an absent-minded way, and had then plunged 
 again into his gloomy thoughts. He was thinking with 
 despair that he had been vainly struggling for three months 
 without having made the slightest headway. The post 
 erected before him was awaiting Philippe ; and it seemed 
 to him that his feet were rooted to the pavement, and 
 that he was unable to run to his brother's assistance. At 
 that moment, he would have sold himself to obtain a few 
 thousand francs, he would have committed a mean action. 
 Receiving no reply, Sauvaire continued prating. He liked 
 to hear the sound of his own voice. 
 
 " Deuce take it ! " he said, " a young man should amuse 
 himself. But poor you ! you don't amuse yourself enough, 
 you work too hard, my young friend. Ah! it requires a 
 lot of money : pleasures cost dear. As for myself, I some 
 weeks spend enormous sums. You can't amuse yourself
 
 MARIUS LOSES HIS WITS. 179 
 
 as much as that, it'd be impossible; but yet you might 
 have a bit of a fling. You've got a trifle of money, haven't 
 you? Listen! shall I take you some evenings to places 
 that'll enliven you up?" 
 
 The master-stevedore thought himself very generous in 
 making Marius this proposal. He waited awhile for 
 the young man to thank him. But as he still maintained 
 his silence of despair, he took his arm in an authoritative 
 way and led him along the pavement. 
 
 " I'll take you in hand," he exclaimed, " I'll show you 
 life. I intend you to be almost as lively as myself in a 
 week's time. I eat in the best restaurants ; I know the 
 prettiest women in Marseilles, and, as you see, I stroll 
 about all day. That's the way to live ! " 
 
 He stopped, and, folding his arms, planted himself 
 abruptly before Marius. 
 
 " Do you know at what time I went to bed ? " he 
 resumed. "At three o'clock this morning! And would 
 you like to know where I passed the night? At the 
 Corneille Club, where there was a fine old gamble. Just 
 fancy, there were two delightful creatures there, women 
 attired in velvet, with jewels and lace, things so costly 
 that one is afraid to touch them with the tips of one's 
 fingers. Clairon, a little dark woman, won over five thousand 
 francs." 
 
 Marius looked up sharply. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said in a strange voice, " can one win five 
 thousand francs in a single night ? " 
 
 Sauvaire burst out laughing. 
 
 " Good heavens ! what a simpleton you are ! I have seen 
 larger sums than that won. Some people have luck. Last 
 year I knew a young man who won sixteen thousand francs 
 in a couple of nights. He came to the club with me, 
 and hadn't a copper on him. I lent him five francs, and 
 two days after he was in possession of sixteen thousand. 
 We spent them together. Heavens! didn't I just amuse 
 myself during the month they lasted ! " 
 
 A red flush came to Marius' face. He felt a tremor 
 pass up him and burn his chest. He had never before 
 experienced so painful a sensation.
 
 l8o THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " Doesn't one have to be a member of a club to be 
 able to play there?" he asked. 
 
 The master-stevedore smiled and winked his eye in a 
 knowing manner, shrugging his shoulders the while. 
 
 "I thought," resumed Marius, "that strangers were not 
 allowed in a club, and that only the members, who had 
 paid a subscription, could play there." 
 
 "Yes, yes, that's correct," replied Sauvaire laughing, 
 " only members have the right to play. But strangers, 
 who have not that right, are generally more numerous 
 around the gaming-table, and play for higher stakes than 
 the members. Do you understand ? " 
 
 It was now Marius who took hold of Sauvaire's arm, 
 and they went a few steps in silence. Then the young 
 man asked his companion in a stifled voice: 
 
 "Could you take me to-night to the Corneille Club?" 
 
 " Bravo ! " exclaimed the master-stevedore. " We'll have 
 a laugh. I see you're beginning to understand life. 
 Look you, wine, love and cards, that's the ticket for me. 
 When I saw you looking so pale, I said to myself: 
 ' There's a youngster I must take in hand ! ' Try and win 
 some money, be quick and get a sweetheart, and you'll 
 soon grow fat, or the devil take me ! Certainly, I'll conduct 
 you to-night to the Corneille Club and I'll introduce you 
 to Clairon." 
 
 Marius made a movement of impatience. He cared 
 nothing for Clairon! A fixed idea was occupying his 
 brain. Since it was possible to win sixteen thousand 
 francs at play in a couple of nights, he wished to tempt 
 fortune and obtain Philippe's ransom from chance. And 
 he said to himself that Providence would watch over him, 
 that he would leave the club with his hands full of gold. 
 Something had gone wrong in his healthy, upright mind. 
 Beneath the repeated blows of disaster the good sense he 
 possessed had become clouded. Everything was weighing 
 him down. In bringing him the news of M. de Cazalis' 
 fresh proceedings, Abbe Chastanier had dealt him the first 
 blow. Then Douglas in the pillory, that terrible sight, 
 had completed his perturbation, driving him mad by 
 spreading before his eyes the spectacle of the infamous
 
 MARIUS LOSES HIS WITS. l8l 
 
 punishment that awaited his brother. He was now quite 
 losing his wits. Reduced to powerlessness, not knowing 
 where to turn in his supreme anguish, he looked upon 
 gambling as a providential means which would either help 
 him out of his difficulty or plunge him more deeply into 
 the abyss of his despair. 
 
 Besides, he was acting in a state of fever, no longer 
 knowing what he was doing, obeying simply the instincts 
 of the beast. He looked at Sauvaire, wondering whether 
 it was virtue or crime which had placed this man across 
 his path, at the moment when the thought of the steps 
 the deputy was taking and of Philippe's punishment was 
 torturing him. At that instant, he would have accepted 
 anything, he would have fought ill-luck with no matter 
 what weapons. 
 
 "Well! that's agreed," resumed Sauvaire, as he took 
 leave. "Where shall I meet you, this evening?" 
 
 " I'll be here, on the Cannebiere, at ten o'clock," 
 replied Marius. 
 
 He left the master-stevedore and went to his office. 
 He had never before been in such a state of over-excite- 
 ment. He passed a terrible day, shaking with fever, his 
 brow heated, a vacant gaze in his eyes, and full of eager 
 desire as he thought of the night that was coming. He 
 was dreaming awake, and beheld the gold heaping up 
 before him; he fancied himself already rich and imagined 
 his brother was free. In the evening he went to see 
 Fine, as usual, at about eight o'clock. The young woman 
 noticed how heated his hands were. 
 
 " W hatever is the matter with you ? " she asked him 
 anxiously. 
 
 He stammered, and hurried away with the words: 
 
 " Don't ask me anything. Philippe will be free and we 
 shall all live happily." 
 
 He called at his lodging to take a hundred francs which 
 he had saved up one by one, and then went to meet 
 Sauvaire. At ten o'clock, they both entered the Corneillc 
 Club.
 
 1 82 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE GAMBLING-HOUSES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 BEFORE relating the next episode of this drama, before 
 showing Marius a prey to all the anxieties of the gambler, 
 it is necessary to explain the causes which led to the 
 increase of gambling-houses in Marseilles. The writer of 
 these lines would like to display, in all its hideous naked- 
 ness, the festering sore which preyed upon one of the 
 wealthiest and liveliest cities of France. The reader will 
 pardon his short digression in consideration of its useful- 
 ness. 
 
 It is to be observed that the passion for gambling plays 
 the most havoc in the great centres of commerce. When 
 a whole population is given over to unbridled speculation, 
 when all classes in a city are trafficking from morn 
 to eve, it is almost impossible that this throng of dealers 
 should not plunge into the keen emotions of gambling. 
 Gaming then becomes an additional speculation to be 
 added to the others ; people speculate on chance, and con- 
 tinue during the night the occupation of the day; during 
 the day-time they have been trying to increase their fortune 
 by selling no matter what, and, at night-time, they seek 
 to add to the profit by risking it at the gaming-table. If 
 it is true that trade is often a game, the traders may 
 believe that they are not going out of their element when 
 they pass from their counters to the neighbouring gam- 
 bling-houses. 
 
 The commercial fever, too, is contagious. In the face 
 of certain great fortunes accumulated in a few years, there 
 is not a young man at Marseilles who does not dream of 
 similar luck. Everyone wishes to go into business, the 
 whole city is an enormous bank in which one lives merely 
 for the sake of making money. Go down to the port, 
 walk into all the places where the crowd is densest: you 
 will find everyone talking of money, and will fancy your- 
 self in some immense office where all conversations 
 are about figures. The important business is, when one
 
 THE GAMBLING-HOUSES OF MARSEILLES. 183 
 
 has ten francs in one's pocket, to turn them into twenty, 
 thirty, forty. Those with large capital gamble at the 
 Stock Exchange, buying and selling. But folks who only 
 possess a few francs, have recourse to gaming; not having 
 sufficient to engage in vast enterprises, they satisfy their 
 craving by tempting chance ; it is a means of gaining 
 fortune or meeting ruin which is within everyone's grasp, 
 a prompt and easy method, a new style of trade, full of 
 keen emotions. The gambler is a speculator who lives a 
 whole panting existence in a night, and experiences the 
 hope, anxiety, and despair of a stock-jobber. In a city 
 like Marseilles, where money reigns as sovereign king, 
 where the inhabitants are under the influence of a terrible 
 commercial fever, gambling becomes a necessity, a sort of 
 bank open to all, in which each one, both rich and poor, 
 can risk his coppers or his gold. 
 
 Add to this the fact that the wealthy, those who shovel 
 gold about, who gain enormous sums in a day, set little 
 value on that gold they pile up so easily. A workman 
 looks with reverence at the five-franc piece which is paid 
 him in the evening; he has toiled and moiled to earn the 
 coin, it represents to him an exhausting labour, long hours 
 of fatigue ; and he has to live on it. But a trader, a 
 stock-jobber who, whilst remaining seated in his office, 
 finds e,t evening that he has gained several hundreds of 
 francs, does not fear, when pocketing his profit, to let a 
 few twenty-franc pieces fall to the ground. He knows 
 that on the morrow he will no doubt earn as many more ; 
 he is still young, and wishes to enjoy life ; as he has 
 been shut in during several hours, he requires, in the 
 evening, some noisy pleasures and strong emotions. So 
 he squanders his money in the restaurants and cafes, 
 and at the gaming-table, spending it as easily as he 
 earned it. 
 
 A commercial city is therefore forcibly dissolute and 
 given to gambling. In this ebb and flow of fortunes, in 
 this scorching breath of trade which penetrates throughout 
 every house, there arc hours of madness, imperious needs 
 for enjoyment. At certain times, these people are blinded 
 by the daz/cle of the gold: they plunge into debauchery
 
 1 84 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 the same as they plunged into business. And the fever 
 lays hold of the town from one end to the other, little 
 and big, rich and poor, are agitated by the same emotion, 
 the same need to lose or win gold, down to ruin or up 
 to millions. 
 
 One can understand the existence of, I was almost 
 saying the necessity for, gambling-houses at Marseilles. 
 At the time of this story there were more than a hundred 
 of them, and the number was increasing daily. The 
 police were vanquished by the passion of the gamblers. 
 Whenever a gambling-house was discovered and closed, 
 two others were opened in its immediate neighbourhood. 
 To cut off the evil at the root, it was necessary to remove 
 the fever that was agitating the whole population. But 
 to my mind the evil was irremediable : one may kill man, 
 but not his passions. 
 
 The police, who have a direct action on gambling-houses, 
 close all those they discover. But their action is difficult 
 to apply in the clubs which, at times, become changed 
 into veritable houses for gaming. Gamblers are inventive 
 when it is a question of satisfying their passion; they 
 endeavour to have the law on their side. Understand 
 well, however, what I mean to say; I have no idea of 
 attacking certain honourable clubs at Marseilles; I wish 
 merely to be the historian of those scandalous clubs, fre- 
 quented by sharpers and sometimes terribly stained by 
 the blood of suicide. 
 
 This is how a club is founded. A few persons ask for 
 an authorization to meet of an evening in a certain place, 
 for the purposes of conversation and refreshment, and 
 even to play at lawful games. Each member pays a 
 subscription, and it is forbidden to admit strangers, that 
 is to say to keep a gaming-table open to the public. 
 
 And now, this is what happens. After a few months, 
 conversation and drinking cease, and whole nights are 
 spent around the green baize; the stakes, at first very 
 small, gradually increase in amount, so much so that it is 
 easy to ruin oneself in a few nights. The management 
 is no longer so strict, anyone is free to enter, there are 
 more strangers in the club than members, even women
 
 THE GAMBLING-HOUSES OF MARSEILLES. 185 
 
 are admitted, sharpers soon put in an appearance for the 
 purpose of fleecing inexperienced players, and this 
 state of things lasts until the police make a raid and close 
 the premises. Two months later the club re-opens some 
 distance off, the farce is played over again with the same 
 ending. 
 
 This is one of the open sores of Marseilles, a festering 
 sore which spreads every day. The clubs have always a 
 tendency to become gambling-houses, abysses which 
 swallow up the fortunes and honour of those imprudent 
 enough to venture therein. And once one has tasted the 
 keen delights of play, all other pleasures seem to cloy ; the 
 fever seizes hold of one's whole being and the table claims 
 the last coin in one's purse. Not a week goes by without 
 some fresh disaster or complaint to the authorities. 
 
 One time it is merchants who have been ruining them- 
 selves at the gaming-tables. They come there and jeopardize 
 the money deposited with them, first dissipating their own 
 profits, and then breaking into the funds that have been 
 entrusted to their commercial probity; after that they are 
 obliged to go into bankruptcy, and they drag down in 
 their ruin, those who have had faith in their honesty. 
 
 Another time it is small clerks with appetites for luxury 
 and fast living, and whose modest salaries are insufficient 
 for the gratification of their passions. Thev sec around 
 them wealthy people wallowing in the lap of luxury, 
 surrounded by lovely women, reclining in carriages, in 
 short tasting of all the dissolute joys of life; they are 
 seized with jealousy, and feel a keen desire to lead a 
 similar existence of pleasure and festivity. So they seek 
 to obtain the necessary money at the gaming-table ; they 
 first of all risk their salaries ; then, when luck is against 
 them, they rob their employers, and enter upon a criminal 
 career. 
 
 Then again there are young men, poor simple fellows 
 fresh from college, who become the prey of skilful sharpers. 
 If they win, they plunge into debauchery; if they lose, they 
 fall into debt, give bills to usurers, and cat their corn in 
 the ear. 
 
 The following characteristic story is told. A clerk, who
 
 1 86 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 had been given a few thousand francs by his employer 
 to pay the duty on some merchandise, went that evening 
 to a club and lost the money with which he had been 
 entrusted, at baccara. It was a temporary madness, the 
 clerk being an honest fellow who had succumbed to the 
 gambling fever. The employer threatened to make a 
 complaint to the authorities. On hearing this, the members 
 of the club, met together and decided to restore to the 
 employer, out of their own pockets, the sum which his 
 clerk had misappropriated. When they had paid up, the 
 clerk signed a bill to the order of the cashier of the club, 
 and the cashier has never insisted on the payment of this 
 bill which the poor clerk was unable to meet. 
 
 Is not this kind action on the gamblers' part an admis- 
 sion? They understood that they were all jointly and 
 severally guilty of the embezzlement, and they hushed up 
 the affair so that the authorities should not come and 
 disturb them in the gratification of their passion. 
 
 It was into this world stricken with madness, into this 
 company of excited gamblers, that Sauvaire introduced 
 Marius. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 IN WHICH MARIUS WINS TEN THOUSAND FRANCS. 
 
 THE Corneille Club was one of those authorized gambling 
 hells that were referred to in the preceding chapter. In 
 principle it should only have comprised members admitted 
 by a majority of voices and paying a subscription of 
 twenty-five francs; but, in reality, everyone could go there 
 and gamble. At the commencement, to save appearances, 
 they were in the habit of pasting a list of the new- 
 comers up on the glass; or else strangers were obliged to 
 give a card of introduction supplied by one of the members. 
 Later on they had omitted to ask for the card and they 
 had not taken the trouble to post up the names. Anyone 
 could go there who liked. 
 
 Of course the master-stevedore was an upright man
 
 MARIUS WINS TEN THOUSAND FRANCS. 187 
 
 incapable of committing a base action; but his life of 
 pleasure had caused him to make strange friendships. 
 He naively said that he preferred the society of rogues 
 to that of straightforward people, for while the latter 
 worried him the former made him laugh. He sought low 
 society by instinct, because he could there unbutton him- 
 self at his ease, and amuse himself as he pleased, that is 
 to say by making a frightful riot. Besides, with his affected 
 air of a simple, easy man, he concealed extraordinary 
 cunning and prudence: he never compromised himself, 
 gambled little, and withdrew as soon as he ran the least 
 danger. He was aware of the shady reputation of the 
 majority of the frequenters of the Corneille Club, and he 
 went there because he met with ladies who were the 
 reverse of being straitlaced, and was able to satisfy his 
 inclinations of an upstart. 
 
 Sauvaire and Marias, after ascending a narrow staircase, 
 reached a spacious apartment on the first floor where a 
 score of marble-topped tables were set out. Against the 
 walls were divans covered with red velvet and in the centre 
 rush-seated chairs: you might have imagined yourself in 
 a cafe. At the end was a large table covered with green 
 cloth on which two squares were marked out with red braid, 
 and between these was a well for the cards that had been 
 used. This was the gaming-table. It was surrounded 
 by chairs. 
 
 Marius cast a bewildered look over the place on entering. 
 He was suffocating, like a man who had just fallen into 
 the water. Anyone, to look at him, might have thought 
 that he had just come into a cavern where wild beasts 
 were about to devour him. His heart was beating rapidly 
 anil his brow covered with perspiration. A sort of timidity 
 mingled with repugnance kept him motionless, awkward, 
 and gave him an embarrassed appearance. 
 
 There was hardly anyone in the room. A few men 
 were drinking. Two women were conversing excitedly in 
 a low tone in the corner. The gaming-table remained 
 dark and unoccupied in the background, for the gas 
 burners which descended in the centre of the green cloth 
 had not vet been lit.
 
 1 88 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Marius regained his assurance little by little ; but the 
 fever continued raging in his veins. 
 
 " What will you take ? " inquired Sauvaire. 
 
 " Whatever you like," answered the young man, in an 
 off-hand way, staring at the table with curiosity and alarm. 
 
 The master-stevedore ordered beer. He extended him- 
 self full length on a divan and lit a cigar. 
 
 " Ah ! There is Clairon, along with her friend Isnarde," 
 he all at once exclaimed, perceiving the two girls talking 
 in a corner. " Look what pearls of women they are ! 
 Eh! what say you? They are the sort of little creatures 
 you require to drive away your troubles." 
 
 Marius looked at the girls. Clairon wore an old black 
 velvet gown stained and frayed; she was short, dark, 
 faded; her face, which was pale and covered with yellow 
 spots, wore an air of weariness which was painful to look 
 at. Isnarde, who was tall and thin, appeared still older 
 and more worn out; it seemed as if her angular limbs 
 would pierce through her faded silk gown at the shoulders. 
 Marius was at a loss to understand Sauvaire's passionate 
 admiration for these creatures. He turned away his head 
 with an expression of disgust ; Fine's healthy countenance 
 had just appeared to him, and he felt ashamed at being 
 in such a place. 
 
 The high key of Sauvaire's voice had made the two 
 girls turn their heads and they began to laugh. 
 
 "Oh! they are buxom lasses," murmured the master- 
 stevedore, " there's no mourning in their society. If you 
 like we'll take them off with us to-night?" 
 
 "Aren't we going to play?" inquired Marius, sharply, 
 interrupting his companion. 
 
 " Good heavens ! What a hurry you are in ! " answered 
 Sauvaire, who stretched himself out still more to attract 
 the girls' attention. "Of course we are going to play, 
 we'll play until to-morrow morning if you like. But dash 
 it, there's time enough for that. Just observe how Clairon 
 and Isnarde are looking at me." 
 
 The frequenters of the place gradually came in. A 
 waiter lit the gas, and several players went and seated 
 themselves at the gaming-table. The two girls began to
 
 MARIUS WINS TEN THOUSAND FRANCS. 189 
 
 move about the room, smiling on the men they knew ; 
 they ended by seating themselves near the banker who 
 held the cards, hoping, no doubt, to glean a few twenty-franc 
 pieces. Sauvaire then consented to approach the players. 
 
 Marius stayed for a moment standing, studying the game. 
 He leant over to his companion and said : 
 
 " Kindly explain to me how I must act." 
 
 The master-stevedore was very much amused at the 
 young man's naivete. 
 
 "But, my good fellow," he answered, " nothing is easier. 
 Where have you come from ? Everyone knows baccara. 
 Come here, sit down. Place your stake on this side or 
 that, in one of these squares surrounded by a red band. 
 You see the banker makes use of two packs of cards of 
 different coloured backs and of fifty-two cards each ; he 
 deals two cards on each side and two to himself. The 
 tens and picture cards do not count ; the highest point is 
 nine and it is necessary to get as near that as possible. 
 If you have more than the banker, you win ; if less, you 
 lose. That's all." 
 
 "But," said Marius, "I see some of the players ask for 
 a card." 
 
 "Yes," answered Sauvaire, "you are allowed to draw a 
 card to arrange your hand. You often disarrange it. I 
 advise you to always stand at six; it's a nice point." 
 
 Marius sat down at the table. 
 
 " Don't you play ? " he inquired of Sauvaire. 
 
 "Faith, no," answered the master-stevedore. " I prefer 
 having a laugh with Clairon." 
 
 And he got up and went hanging round the little 
 brunette. The truth was that he was afraid of losing his 
 cash. He found gambling ran away with such a lot of 
 money. The excitement of winning and losing was too 
 rapid for him: he wanted solid, lasting enjoyment. 
 
 The banker shuffled the cards. 
 
 "Make your game, gentlemen," he said. 
 
 Marius placed fifty francs on the cloth with a shudder. 
 He had decided that he would play his hundred francs 
 in two stakes. 
 
 Red light passed before his eyes; he heard a sort of
 
 I go THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 growling within him which made him feel giddy; his ears 
 tinkled and his sight was troubled. The sensation he 
 experienced was so violent that his heart almost ceased 
 beating. "Nothing more goes!" said the banker. 
 
 And he dealt the cards. It was Marius' turn to take 
 them. He picked them up and looked at them in a 
 stupid way. He had five. He asked for cards and 
 remained with four. The hands were thrown down. The 
 banker had three. A murmur of astonishment passed 
 round the table. Marius had won. 
 
 From that moment the young man was beside himself. 
 He lived in a sort of dream. He remained there for 
 more than five hours, downcast, overcome, sent half asleep 
 by the monotony of the game, winning always, losing 
 only to win still more. He played with an audacity that 
 made the other gamblers tremble, and won contrary to 
 every probability, clearing out the bankers one after the 
 the other. 
 
 Beside him was an elderly man who watched him with 
 a stupefied and envious look. This person at length bent 
 towards him and asked him in a low tone of voice: 
 
 " Sir, would you be so good as to tell me what your 
 mascotte is ? " 
 
 Marius did not hear him. A mascolte in the slang of 
 Proven9al gamblers, is a sort of talisman which shields 
 the person who possesses it against ill-luck. All gamblers 
 are more or less superstitious and each of them invents 
 a little protecting divinity as a means of ensuring fortune. 
 
 The old gentleman seemed wounded at Marius' silence. 
 
 "I don't think I have been indiscreet," he continued; 
 " I should have been curious to know what could possibly 
 have given you such luck. I don't hide what I do. Here's 
 my mascotte." 
 
 He took off his hat and displayed an image of the 
 Virgin Mary inside of it. If Marius had been calm, he 
 would have laughed ; but he was enervated by several 
 hours' play, and he made a movement of impatience, and 
 continued to pile up the gold before him without uttering 
 a single word. 
 
 Sauvaire, who was astounded at his companion's luck,
 
 MARIUS WINS TEN THOUSAND FRANCS. IQI 
 
 had placed himself behind his chair. He preferred to 
 watch the game to playing himself. He enjoyed the sight 
 of large sums of money spread out on the gaming-table 
 when he did not run *he risk of losing. Clairon and 
 Isnarde had followed him and leant familiarly on the 
 back of Marius' seat. They bent over towards the young 
 man, smiled at him, fondled him with their eyes. The 
 odour of gold had made them hasten forward like birds 
 of prey. 
 
 Five o'clock struck. The pale daylight was streaming 
 in at the windows. The gamblers went off one by one. 
 Marius ended by finding himself alone. He had ten 
 thousand francs in winnings before him. 
 
 The young man would have sat at the gaming-table until 
 evening, until the following day, without being conscious 
 of it, without complaining of the fatigue which was over- 
 powering him. For more than five hours he had been 
 playing mechanically, having but one idea in his head, 
 that of winning, of always winning. He wanted to finish 
 with it at a single stroke, to win the sum he required in 
 one night, and not put his feet in the hell again. 
 
 When he found himself alone at the table, stupid, blind, 
 his limbs aching with excitement and weariness, he was 
 in despair, his eyes sought someone to go on playing 
 with. He had just counted the money he had won, 
 and he knew it only amounted to ten thousand francs. 
 
 He wanted five thousand francs more. He would have 
 given anything in the world for day-light not to have 
 appeared. Perhaps he might have had time to complete 
 Philippe's ransom. And he was there, staring at his gold 
 pieces, putting them slowly into his pocket, folding up the 
 bank notes one by one, looking round the room for a 
 belated gambler. 
 
 There was a man at a small table near him who had 
 been watching the play all the evening, without risking 
 anything himself. When he had seen Marius winning, 
 he had approached and had not lost sight of him. He 
 seemed to be waiting. He let the other gamblers go away 
 one by one, fixing his eyes on the young man, following 
 the fever that agitated him, lying in wait for him as for
 
 I Q2 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 a sure prey. When the latter, vexed and shivering, 
 was making up his mind to leave, the stranger rose 
 hurriedly and approached him. 
 
 "Sir," he inquired, "will you have a game at ecarte 
 with me ? " 
 
 Marius was about to accept joyfully, when Sauvaire, who 
 was following him step by step, seized him by the arm, 
 and whispered : 
 
 "Don't play." 
 
 The young man turned round and threw an inquiring 
 look on the master-stevedore. 
 
 " Don't play," the latter continued, "if you wish to keep 
 the ten thousand francs you've got in your pocket. For 
 the love of Providence, refuse and come quickly. You 
 will thank me afterwards." 
 
 Marius had a good mind not to listen to Sauvaire; but 
 the master-stevedore got him little by little near the door, 
 and seeing him hesitate he undertook to speak for him. 
 
 "No, no, Monsieur Felix," he said to the man who 
 was offering to play ecarte, " my friend is tired, he can't 
 stay any longer. Good day, Monsieur Felix." 
 
 M. Felix seemed very much annoyed at this answer. 
 He stared fixedly at Sauvaire as if to say to him : " What 
 the deuce are you meddling with ? " Then he turned on 
 his heels, whistled between his teeth and murmured : 
 
 "And so I've lost my night." 
 
 Sauvaire had not let go of Marius. When they were 
 both in the street, the young man inquired of his companion 
 in an irritated tone: 
 
 " Why did you prevent me playing ? " 
 
 " Ah ! Poor innocent," answered the master-stevedore, 
 " because I took pity on you, because I didn't want M. 
 Felix to win your ten thousand francs from you." 
 
 " That man's a rascal then ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no, he remains within the strictest limits of 
 honesty." 
 
 "Then I should have won." 
 
 " No, you would have lost. The calculations of M. 
 Felix are sure. This is how he proceeds. He never plays 
 during the night. Towards morning, when the other
 
 MARIUS WINS TEN THOUSAND FRANCS. 193 
 
 players are racked with fever, he addresses one of them 
 and makes him seat himself at an ecarte table. It is no 
 longer a question of a game of chance, but of a game in 
 which you need all your intelligence, and all your calm. 
 M. Felix is calm and prudent; he has a head that is fresh 
 and reposed ; his adversary is feverish, blind, he does not 
 even see his cards, and in a few deals he is stripped in 
 the most straightforward fashion in the world." 
 
 " I understand and I thank you." 
 
 " M. Felix has already won quite a fortune by putting 
 his system into practice every evening. But I repeat that 
 he plays in a perfectly honourable manner, only he arranges 
 things in such a way that his adversaries always play like 
 perfect jackasses; and that is how clever people succeed. 
 If I were in his place I'd take out a patent." 
 
 Marius remained silent. The two men had stopped in 
 the middle of the deserted street opposite the entrance 
 to the Corneille Club. It was wet, foggy weather, nasty 
 odours hovered over the pavement, and there was a 
 piercing chill in the matinal breeze. Buttoned up to their 
 chins, both shivering, they reeled about like drunkards, 
 their pale countenances and sparkless eyes telling the few 
 passers-by, what sort of night they had just passed. 
 
 As Marius was about to go off, he felt an arm slipped 
 in his. He turned and recognised Isnarde. Clairon had 
 just taken Sauvaire's arm. The two women had not lost 
 sight of these men who smelt of gold ; they had followed 
 them, ravenous at the thought of the ten thousand francs 
 that Marius had on him, and determined to have their 
 share of the amount. The young man appeared to them 
 a simpleton whom they could master without difficulty 
 and strip at their ease. 
 
 Isnarde burst into a laugh, and said, in a slightly groggy 
 voice, 
 
 " Are you going to bed already, gentlemen ? " 
 
 Marius rapidly withdrew his arm with an air of repugnance 
 which he did not take the trouble to disguise. 
 
 "My loves," answered Sauvaire, "I am willing to stand 
 you a breakfast. Eh ! Promise me to be very amusing. 
 Are you coming, Marius?"
 
 I Q4 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " No," answered the young man, sharply. 
 
 "Ah! This gentleman is not coming," said Clairon, in 
 a drawling voice. " Ah ! That's a pity. He would have 
 stood us champagne. He owes us at least that." 
 
 Marius felt in his pockets, pulled two handfuls of gold 
 out of them and passed them to Clairon and Isnarde. The 
 women pocketed the money without being in the least 
 degree put out. 
 
 "Until to-night," said Marius. 
 
 " Until to-night," answered the master-stevedore. 
 
 He took one of the women on each arm and went off 
 in that way, singing and creating a frightful disturbance 
 in the quiet thoroughfare. 
 
 Marius watched him move away, and then proceeded to his 
 peaceful little room in the Rue Sainte. It was six o'clock 
 in the morning. He went to bed and slept like a top. 
 He only awoke at two o'clock. 
 
 When he opened his eyes he perceived the money he 
 had won. The reddish reflex running over the gold almost 
 frightened him; all at once the night he had passed came 
 back to him with singular distinctiveness, and he felt a 
 formidable choking sensation in the throat. He was afraid 
 of becoming a gambler, for his first thought on awakening 
 was that he would return to the "hell" in the evening 
 and would win again. At this idea a tremor passed through 
 him, he became feverish and enjoyed a moment of vo- 
 luptuous delight. 
 
 And he repeated to himself: "No, it is not true, I 
 cannot be possessed of that horrible passion, I cannot 
 have become a gambler from one day to another; I gamble 
 to deliver Philippe, I don't play for myself." He did not 
 dare interrogate himself further. 
 
 Then he thought of Fine, and he had to make an effort 
 to restrain his sobs. He said to himself that he already 
 had ten thousand francs and that he could dispense with 
 returning to the gambling-house ; assuredly he could easily 
 find five thousand francs; he would not run the risk of 
 losing what he had won. 
 
 He dressed himself and went out into the street. His 
 head was bursting. He did not even think of going to his
 
 HOW MARIUS HAD BLOOD OX HIS HANDS. 195 
 
 office, he entered a restaurant but could not eat. Every- 
 thing he saw seemed to be turning, and at times he felt 
 a choking sensation as if he were all at once in want of 
 breath. When night came he went, as a matter of course, 
 step by step, to the Corneille Club. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 HOW MARIUS HAD BLOOD OX HIS HANDS. 
 
 Ox entering the room Marius perceived Sauvairc seated 
 at a table between Clairon and Isnarde. The master- 
 stevedore had not quitted the two girls since the morning. 
 He rose, stepped forward and pressed the young man's 
 hand. 
 
 "Ah! my friend," he said, "how wrong you were not 
 to have come with us! We amused ourselves immensely. 
 These charmers are so funny ! They would make stones 
 laugh. They are the sort of ladies I like!" 
 
 He dragged Marius to the table where Clairon and 
 Isnarde were drinking beer. The young man sat down 
 with a good deal of ill grace. 
 
 "Sir," said Isnarde to him, "would you like me to go 
 into partnership with you to-night?'' 
 
 "No," he answered, drily. 
 
 " He's quite right to refuse," cried Sauvaire, in a noisy 
 voice. "You want to ruin him, my dear. You know the 
 proverb: 'Luckv at cards, unlucky in love'." 
 
 And he added in a low voice addressing his companion: 
 
 " Why don't you make friends with her ? Don't you 
 see the glances she is casting at you?" 
 
 Marius rose without answering and went and sat at the 
 card table. A game was about to commence and he was 
 impatient to return to the sensations of the previous night. 
 
 He wished to follow the same tactics. lie placed 
 fifty francs on the cloth and lost them; he put fifty others 
 there, and lost them also. 
 
 Gamblers are justly fatalists, they know bv experience 
 that chance has its laws, like everything else in this world;
 
 196 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 that it labours sometimes for a whole night to make a 
 man's fortune, and that often, the next day, it works his 
 ruin with the same persistence. A moment comes when 
 chance turns, \vhen a person who has won a long series 
 of hands, loses another series that is quite as long. Marius 
 had arrived at one of those terrible moments. 
 
 He lost five times in succession. Sauvaire, who had 
 drawn near and was following his game, bent over him 
 and said rapidly: 
 
 " Don't play to-night, you are not in luck. You will 
 lose all you won yesterday." 
 
 The young man shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 
 His throat became dry and the perspiration stood out on 
 his forehead. 
 
 "Leave me alone," he answered sharply, "I know what 
 I am doing. I want all or nothing." 
 
 "As you please," replied the master-stevedore. "I 
 have gained some experience during the ten years I have 
 been playing and watching others play. In a few hours, 
 my good fellow, you will not have a sou left. It always 
 happens like that." 
 
 He took a chair and sat down behind Marius, wishing 
 to be present when his predictions were realized. Clairon 
 and Isnarde, who hoped to gather up a few pieces of gold, 
 as on the previous day, also came and placed themselves 
 near the young man. They laughed, gave themselves airs, 
 and Sauvaire, from time to time, joked noisily with them. 
 The bursts of laughter and tittering which Marius heard 
 behind him exasperated him. He was on the point of 
 turning round two or three times to send Sauvaire and 
 the girls to the Prince of Darkness. In despair at losing, 
 enervated by the strange and terrible hands that chance 
 gave him, he felt his anger rising within him and would 
 have been glad to vent it on someone. 
 
 He had played at first as on the previous night, with 
 audacity and decision, risking hands of five and relying 
 on his good luck; but that luck had gone, his audacity 
 did not serve him. Then he wanted to act prudently; 
 he dodged chance, calculated the probabilities, and finally 
 played cleverly. He lost just as often as before. On
 
 HOW MARIUS HAD BLOOD ON HIS HANDS. 197 
 
 several occasions he had eight and the banker nine. 
 Fortune seemed to take bitter pleasure in stripping him 
 on whom she had showered her favours. It was indeed 
 a fight to the death, and at each fresh attack, at each 
 hand of cards, Marius was vanquished. At the expiration 
 of an hour he had already lost four thousand francs. 
 
 Sauvaire kept singing out behind him : 
 
 " What did I say ? I was certain of it ! " 
 
 And Clairon and Isnarde, who saw the bits of gold on 
 which they relied disappearing, began to make fun of the 
 young man and to look about for someone more lucky. 
 
 Marius bewildered in front of the gulf open before him, 
 turned towards Sauvaire and said to him in a choking 
 voice : 
 
 " You who know how to play, tell me what to do." 
 
 " Oh ! " answered the master-stevedore, " if you were 
 to play like an angel you would lose. Chance is blind, 
 it goes, you see, where it likes, one can never direct it. 
 You had better withdraw." 
 
 "No, no, I'll see it out." 
 
 "Well then! Let us try. Play the series." 
 
 Marius played the series. Hand on hand he lost five 
 hundred francs. 
 
 " The deuce ! " exclaimed Sauvaire. " Play intermission 
 then." 
 
 Marius played intermission and lost again. 
 
 " I warned you, I warned you," repeated the master- 
 stevedore, " Try a martingale." 
 
 Marius tried a martingale and had no better luck. 
 
 "It's enough to drive one mad," he exclaimed in anger. 
 
 "Don't play any more," said Sauvaire. 
 
 "Yes, I will play, I'll play to the end." 
 
 The master-stevedore rose, whistling between his teeth. 
 He could not understand his friend's nervous obstinacy, 
 he who never risked more than a hundred francs on the 
 green cloth. 
 
 " Look here ! " he continued, " the banker has thrown 
 up his hand and is leaving. Take his place. That will 
 perhaps change the luck." 
 
 Marius took the banker's seat. He paid two francs for
 
 198 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 cards and slipped a franc into the slot in accordance 
 with the custom of the club. He shuffled the cards and 
 then presented them to the players, saying: 
 
 " Gentlemen, the cards pass." 
 
 Some of the players shuffled the cards again and returned 
 them to Marius, who shuffled them a third time as was 
 his right. The game began again. The young man 
 could now lose all he had in a few hands. 
 
 He lost twice running. Sauvaire continued to remain 
 behind him. He ended by taking an interest in this 
 intrepid youth. The latter was about to deal the cards 
 again to the players, to the punters as they are called, 
 when the master-stevedore stopped his arm and leaning 
 over to his ear, said to him in a low voice: 
 
 " Take care, they are robbing you. You are dealing 
 the cards like a young innocent." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " 
 
 " Yes, you hold them up as you deal them, so that the 
 punters opposite see them pass and know what you have 
 in your hand. All new bankers are victimized like that. 
 Keep the pack slanting in your hand and lower the cards 
 as you deal them out." 
 
 Marius followed this wise advice and did very well. 
 He won. In a few hands he had got back a fairly large 
 sum. Then chance turned again and he lost. Next a 
 sort of equilibrium was established between his winning 
 and losings. Little by littte, however, he felt the ten 
 thousand francs slipping through his fingers. 
 
 He neglected nothing to make his luck change. On 
 several occasions he stopped and called for fresh cards. 
 At another time he dealt his hand right out, in order to 
 lead chance astray and bring it back to him. 
 
 But all these tactics did him no good. Fortune now 
 seemed to take pleasure in playing with its prey, in 
 making it suffer longer and not killing it at one blow; 
 then, all at once, she scratched it, she took away what 
 she had just given and even more. 
 
 Sauvaire kept watch round the table, so as to see that 
 his friend was not cheated too much. The latter had a 
 man opposite him who was still young and who although
 
 HOW MARIUS HAD BLOOD OX HIS HANDS. 199 
 
 playing for small stakes must already have won a good 
 round sum; each time the cards were favourable to him 
 his stake was twenty-five francs, and each time he lost 
 lie had only a silver five-franc piece before him, which 
 was a mascotle, he said, and he paid with another coin. 
 
 The master-stevedore looked on this man with distrust. 
 He watched his movements and perceived that he concealed 
 a twenty-franc gold piece under his five-franc piece in silver ; 
 when he won he displayed it all and pocketed twenty- 
 five francs ; when he lost he left the gold coin hidden 
 under the large silver piece and only gave Marius five 
 francs. It seems that not a night passes without this 
 clever robbery being practised in one of the gambling- 
 houses at Marseilles. 
 
 " Wait a bit, wait a bit," murmured Sauvaire, "I'll nail 
 you, my gentleman.'' 
 
 In the hand that followed, Marius won. The cheat 
 was preparing to give him five francs in change, when 
 Sauvaire stretched out his arm gave a flip to the five- 
 franc piece and uncovered the gold coin beneath it. 
 
 'You arc cheating, sir," he exclaimed, "out you go!" 
 
 The rascal did not lose countenance. 
 
 " What are you meddling with ? " he answered, insolently. 
 
 He left his twenty-five francs on the table, rose, took 
 a few turns in the room and withdrew without molesta- 
 tion. The punters had limited themselves to growling. 
 
 Marius turned very pale. He had fallen, then, so low 
 as that, he was playing with thieves. From that moment 
 there was a cloud before his eyes which made him 
 (.'mmit the grossest blunders. He lost and was almost 
 happy to lose. All the fever hail left him, he no longer 
 had the uncomfortable feeling in his throat. The money 
 wiien he touched it was burning hot; he would have 
 liked to have lost the whole of it and to have gone away 
 with empty pockets. 
 
 Soon he had no more than two or three hundred francs 
 in -fore him. 
 
 Since the commencement of the evening he had had a 
 yung man beside him who had followed all the changes 
 i >f fortune with livelv anxietv. As he lost, he became
 
 200 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 more pale and haggard. He had begun with a con- 
 siderable sum before him and gazed in despair on each 
 piece of gold as it was swept away. Marius had heard 
 him more than once utter disjointed words and had felt 
 anxious about him. He could see that a frightful drama 
 was being performed at his elbow. 
 
 A final stroke completed his neighbour's ruin. He 
 remained for a moment motionless, with contracted features. 
 Then he placed a hand over his eyes, drew a pistol 
 rapidly from his pocket, placed the barrel in his mouth, 
 and fired. 
 
 There was a sound like the crack of a whip. The 
 blood spurted out and large warm crimson drops fell on 
 Marius' hands. 
 
 All the players had risen in a fright. The body had 
 just fallen on the table, the arms folded, the head hang- 
 ing down. The bullet after piercing the neck had came 
 out on the right below the ear, and there was a red hole 
 there, from which ran a stream of blood. A pool of gore 
 was formed on the green cloth; and, in this pool, the 
 abandoned cards were soaking. 
 
 Alarming sentences, uttered in undertones, passed among 
 the gamblers. 
 
 "Do you know the poor fellow? " 
 
 " I think it's a collector of Lambert & Co." 
 
 " His family is honourable. His brother purchased a 
 solicitor's practice six months ago." 
 
 " He must have embezzled a large sum and killed him- 
 self when he lost it." 
 
 " Anyhow he might have shot himself somewhere else. 
 The police will be here in twenty minutes and close the 
 club." 
 
 " These people who have a mania for killing themselves 
 are most annoying. We were very well here, we could 
 gamble at ease. Now we must move." 
 
 "Have they sent to inform the police commissary?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I'm off." 
 
 There was a general stampede. The players seized their 
 hats and prudently slipped out on to the landing. One
 
 HOW MARIUS HAD BLOOD ON HIS HANDS. 2OI 
 
 could hear them stumbling downstairs like drunkards. 
 
 Marius had remained seated beside the corpse. He 
 could not move hand or foot. He sat looking in a stupid 
 way at the suicide's red neck and the splashes of blood 
 covering his own hands. His hair stood on end, sparks 
 of madness flashed in his eyes which were almost starting 
 out of his head. He still held the pack of cards. All at 
 once he threw them down, shook his hands violently, as 
 if to get rid of the blood that was running between his 
 fingers, and uttering a harsh cry, fled. 
 
 He did not even pick up the few hundreds of francs 
 that were before him. The pool increased little by little, 
 and the bits of gold now seemed bathed in a stream of 
 blood. 
 
 Only the corpse and the two girls remained in the room. 
 Sauvaire had been one of the first to fly. When Clairon 
 and Isnarde found themselves alone they approached the 
 table attracted by the gold glittering in the blood. 
 
 " Let's divide," said Isnarde. 
 
 "Yes, let's be quick," answered Clairon, "it's no good 
 giving the police the money." 
 
 And each of them took a handful of gold from the 
 middle of the crimson pool. The coins stained with gore 
 disappeared in their pockets; then they wiped their fingers 
 on their handkerchiefs and in their turn (led, gasping for 
 breath and fancying they heard the voice of the police 
 commissary behind them. 
 
 It was three o'clock in the morning. Great gusts of 
 wind were driving along the big, dark clouds that studded 
 the grey sky with black. A sort of mist floated in the 
 air and fell in fine, icy cold rain. There is nothing more 
 mournful than those hours of the early morning in a great 
 city: the streets arc dirty, the houses stand out in sad 
 silhouettes. 
 
 Marius ran like a madman through the silent and 
 deserted streets. He slipped on the greasy stones, dipping 
 his feet in the gutters, and knocking up against the corners 
 of the pavement. And he continued running with his 
 arms extended before him, wringing his hands in furious 
 rage. He wanted to go and clip them in the sea
 
 202 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 and wash them with all the water of the ocean. There 
 only, could he find relief for the terrible burn that was 
 devouring him. 
 
 He ran, alarmed and fierce, still wringing his hands and 
 taking out-of-the-way streets like a murderer. At moments 
 he was half mad; he imagined it was he who had killed 
 the suicide to rob him of fifteen thousand francs. Then 
 he heard the heavy tread of the gendarmes behind him, 
 he hastened the pace, not knowing where to hide his 
 hands which would bear witness against him. 
 
 He had to cross the Cours Belzunce. Workmen were 
 passing along under the trees, and he experienced most 
 horrible anguish. To avoid descending to the harbour by 
 the Cannebiere, he plunged into the old town. There the 
 streets are dark and narrow and no one could see his 
 blood-stained hands. 
 
 He reached the Place aux CEufs. It was only then 
 that he thought of Fine, he remembered all at once that 
 she was matinal, that she might already be on the Place 
 and would see him covered with blood. She would 
 question him and he would be unable to answer her. 
 He knew nothing, all was confusion in his head, he found 
 himself lost in a nightmare. His hands burned him, that 
 was all, and he continued running ; ran to go and plunge 
 them in the sea and extinguish the coals clinging to his flesh. 
 
 He descended the narrow streets, the steep inclines, at 
 the risk of breaking his head twenty times over. Twice 
 he slipped and fell ; each time he rose with a bound and 
 continued his race. 
 
 At length, he perceived the black masses of vessels lying 
 silent in the dense water of the Port. He ran along the 
 white, polished slabs of stone ; and as he could find no 
 boat, he for an instant had the insane idea of flinging 
 himself into the water, and thus appeasing his sufferings 
 at a single stroke. The burns he thought he felt, became 
 intolerable. He yelled and wept. 
 
 But having at last found a little pleasure-craft fastened 
 at the edge of the quay, he leapt into it, lay down on 
 his stomach and feverishly plunged his arms into the sea 
 up to the shoulders.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRE'S PRAYER-BOOK. 203 
 
 A profound sigh of relief escaped him. The cool water 
 appeased his fever, the wavelets washed away the blood 
 that was gnawing into his hands. 
 
 He remained lying thus for a long time, forgetting all, 
 not even remembering win- he was there. Every now and 
 then he drew his arms out of the water and furiously 
 rubbed his hands, looked at them and rubbed them again. 
 He seemed always to perceive large red spots on his skin. 
 Then he plunged his arms into the sea again, made the 
 water move gently to and fro, enjoying intense delight at 
 the sensation of the cold seizing him and sending a shiver 
 all over his body. 
 
 At the end of an hour, lie was still there, thinking there 
 would never be sufficient water in the sea to wash his 
 hands. However, little by little, his ideas became calm 
 and his head heavy. It seemed as if his brain were empty. 
 Icy shivers ran over all his limbs. Mechanically, step by 
 step, he reached the RueSainte, without thinking of anything. 
 He no longer knew where he had come from, nor what 
 he had done. He went to bed and was seized with a 
 terrible fever. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRE'S PRAYER-BOOK. 
 
 MAKIUS remained three weeks in bed a prey to violent 
 delirium. He had an attack of acute cerebral (ever which 
 brought him to death's door. His youth, and the tender 
 attention he received, saved him. 
 
 One evening, at twilight, he opened his eves with a 
 clear head. It seemed to him that he had issued from 
 profound darkness. He was so weak that he had no 
 feeling in his body; but the fever had disappeared, and 
 his thoughts, which were still vacillating, returned to him. 
 
 The curtains were drawn round his bed. A soft, warm 
 light came through the white linen and surrounded him 
 with gentle brightness. The air of the silent room was 
 pervaded with perfume. He raised himself. And at the
 
 204 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 slight noise he made, he saw a shadow glide behind the 
 curtains. 
 
 " Who is there ? " he inquired, in a voice that was hardly 
 distinct. 
 
 A hand quietly drew aside the curtains, and Fine, seeing 
 Marius sitting up, exclaimed joyfully: 
 
 "Heaven be praised! You are saved, my friend." 
 
 And she began to weep. The invalid understood all, 
 and extended his poor thin hands towards the girl. 
 
 "Thanks," he said to her, "I knew you were there. 
 I feel as if I had had a frightful dream ; and, I remember 
 now, in the midst of that dream, I saw you bending over 
 me like a mother." 
 
 He let his head fall on the pillow and continued in a 
 childish voice : 
 
 " I have been very ill, have I not ? " 
 
 "All is over, do not let us think of such disagreeable 
 things," said the flower-girl gaily. "But where had you 
 been to, my friend, the sleeves of your coat were all wet ? " 
 
 Marius passed his hand across his forehead. 
 
 "Oh! I remember," he exclaimed, "it's frightful!" 
 
 Then he gave Fine an account of the two terrible nights 
 he had passed in the gambling-house. He made her a 
 confession, retracing in detail all he had suffered. 
 
 "It's a terrible lesson," he remarked, in conclusion. "I 
 doubted and turned to chance. For a moment I shuddered. 
 I fancied I felt all the instincts of the gambler within me. 
 But I've been cured with a red-hot iron." 
 
 He stopped and then continued anxiously: 
 
 " How long have I been ill ? " 
 
 "About three weeks," answered Fine. 
 
 "Oh! Heavens! Three weeks lost. We have only 
 about twenty days before us." 
 
 "Do not trouble about that, but get well." 
 
 " Hasn't M. Martelly sent to inquire about me ? " 
 
 " Don't worry yourself, I tell you. I have been to see 
 him and everything is arranged." 
 
 Marius seemed more calm and Fine continued : 
 
 " There is only one course to follow, and that is to 
 borrow money of M. Martelly. We should have commenced
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRE'S PRAYER-BOOK. 205 
 
 by that. All will be well. Now, sleep, do not speak ; the 
 doctor has forbidden it." 
 
 The convalescence advanced at rapid strides, thanks to 
 Fine's tender and devoted care. The young girl understood 
 that her smile would now suffice to cure Marius, and 
 each morning, she came with that and her fresh breath 
 which filled the little room with a puff of spring. 
 
 "Ah! how nice it is to be ill!" the invalid often 
 repeated. 
 
 The two lovers passed a charming week in this way. 
 Their love had increased, amidst the suffering and dread 
 of death. A new bond united them. Henceforth they 
 were one. 
 
 When, at the expiration of a week of gay and 
 touching intimacy, Marius was able to get downstairs and 
 go for a short walk in the sun on the Cours Bonaparte, 
 he and Fine were taken for two lovers on the morrow of 
 their betrothal. They had been affianced in the midst of 
 devotedness and grief. Now, as they walked along slowly, 
 the flower-girl supported the young man, who was still 
 weak, and gazed at him with bewitching eyes. She was 
 proud of her work, proud at her lover's recovery, and he 
 thanked her with smiles full of passionate gratitude. 
 
 The next day, the clerk wished to go back to his 
 office, and Fine had to get angry to make him remain at 
 home a day or two longer. He was impatient to see 
 M. Martelly; he desired to feel the ground and ascertain 
 if he could rely on the ship-owner. 
 
 "But there is no hurry," said the flower-girl, with a 
 calmness that astounded the young man. " We have a 
 whole week before us. It will suffice if we have the money 
 at the last moment." 
 
 At the end of two days Marius obtained the young 
 girl's permission to return to his work, and it was 
 arranged between them that they would leave for Aix on 
 the following Monday. Fine spoke as if she had the 
 amount necessary for Philippe's liberty in her pocket. 
 
 Marius went to his office and was received by M. 
 Martelly with paternal kindness. The ship-owner wanted 
 to give him another week's holiday, but the young man
 
 206 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 assured him that work would complete his convalescence. 
 He felt ashamed in his presence, he was thinking that in 
 two or three days he would be making an effort to borrow 
 a large sum of money from him and that thought troubled 
 him, moreover M. Martelly gazed at him with a piercing 
 look that quite embarrassed him. 
 
 " I have seen Mademoiselle Fine," said the ship-owner 
 accompanying him to his office, " she is a charming person, 
 a noble heart. Be very fond of her, my friend." 
 
 He smiled again and withdrew. When Marius was 
 alone he experienced inestimable delight at finding himself 
 in the small office where he had lived and worked so long. 
 He again took possession of his little domain, found 
 pleasure in seating himself before his table, in touching 
 the papers and pens lying there. He had been almost 
 dead and he was once more face to face with his daily 
 placid existence. 
 
 The room in which he was working, was opposite the 
 ship-owner's private apartments and sometimes visitors made 
 a mistake and knocked at his door. On that particular 
 morning as he was about to get to work, he heard two 
 discreet knocks and shouted to come in. 
 
 A man dressed in a long black frock coat made his 
 appearance. His face was shaven, his manner was gentle 
 and he had all the humble and sneaking demeanour of a 
 person connected with the Roman Catholic Church. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Claire Martelly?" he inquired. 
 
 Marius, who was occupied in examining him, did not 
 answer : he was wondering where on earth he had seen 
 this devout personage before. The man was hesitating, 
 but he at last pulled a prayer-book confined in a case, 
 out of the immense pockets of his overcoat. 
 
 "I have brought her," he continued, in a fluty voice, 
 " her prayer-book, which she forgot yesterday evening in 
 a confessional." 
 
 Marius continued wondering : " Where on earth have I 
 seen the face of that canting rascal ? " The man no 
 doubt understood the mute interrogation of his look. He 
 bent his head slightly, adding: 
 
 "I am the beadle at the Church of St. Victor."
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRE'S PRAYER-BOOK. 207 
 
 These few words were like a beam of light for the young 
 man. He remembered having seen the individual before 
 him in the vestry-room, on one occasion when he went 
 to fetch Abbe Chastanier. His intelligence received 
 a sort of shock that stimulated it, and urged on by the 
 power of divination, as it were, he said: 
 
 "It was M. Donadei who sent you, was it not?" 
 
 " Yes " answered the beadle, after further hesitation. 
 
 " Very good ! give me the prayer-book. I will hand it 
 to Mademoiselle Claire." 
 
 " But the abbe particularly told me I was to give it to 
 no one but the young lady." 
 
 " She shall have it in a moment. Perhaps she is not up 
 yet: you will be disturbing her." 
 
 "You promise me to do the errand?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Tell the young lady that the abbe found this prayer-book 
 in his confessional yesterday, and told me to bring it to 
 her. The abbe sends his compliments to Mademoiselle." 
 
 " I will tell her all that, rest assured." 
 
 The beadle placed the prayer-book on the table and 
 withdrew after making a bow. But in closing the door 
 he hesitated again and looked distrustful. 
 
 When he had at last gone, Marius could not help feeling 
 surprised at his persistence in wishing to sec Mademoiselle 
 Claire himself. He vaguelv remembered the praises 
 Donadei had bestowed on M. Martellv's young sister. 
 He looked at the prayer-book and his thoughts were 
 busy with all kinds of reasonings and explanations. 
 
 He stretched out his arm and took the prayer-book. 
 He drew it from its case. It was one of those bulky 
 volumes, almost square, with a handsome binding and 
 corners in open silver-work. The initials of the young 
 girl were interlaced on one of the sides. 
 
 As Marius contemplated the book and tinned it over 
 in his hands, he perceived a thin piece of paper peeping 
 out from the gilt edges. Prompted by a feeling of curi- 
 osity which he did not seek to explain, he opened the 
 volume and a sheet of paper, folded in four, slipped 
 out of it before him.
 
 208 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 It was a pretty sheet of pink paper exhaling a slight 
 smell of incense. Marius was about to return it to the 
 book, but as he took it up he saw it was marked with 
 the initial D and a cross in relief. He rapidly unfolded 
 it and read as follows: 
 
 "Dear Soul, you whose salvation has been entrusted to 
 me by the Lord, listen, I beg of you, to the scheme I 
 have formed for your eternal happiness. I have never 
 dared explain that scheme to you, verbally, fearing to 
 give way to the adorable emotions that your righteousness 
 creates within me. 
 
 " You cannot remain any longer in your brother's 
 house. It is a place of perdition ; your brother is devoted 
 to the abominable worship of modern idols. Come, come 
 with me. We will find a solitary spot where I will place 
 you in the hands of the Almighty. 
 
 " Perhaps my tears and trembling, have made you 
 penetrate the secret of my heart. I love you as the Holy 
 Church, our mother, loves the pure souls that come to her. 
 I dream of you each night, I see you entwined in a 
 celestial embrace, and we both rise to heaven exchanging 
 angelic kisses. 
 
 " Ah ! do not resist the voice that is calling you. Come. 
 There is a superior religion which we do not reveal to 
 the vulgar. That religion unites creatures together. It 
 makes spouses, not martyrs. 
 
 " Bear in mind our conversations. Say to yourself that 
 I love you, and come. I await you at my house. I 
 shall have a post-chaise in an adjoining street." 
 
 Marius was astounded after reading this. Abbe 
 Donadei actually suggested an elopement to Mademoiselle 
 Claire. It is true his letter was pervaded with incense, 
 with rakish, cloudy mysticism, which hid the brutal meaning 
 of his thoughts beneath the devout and fondling sweetness 
 of words; the sense was paraphrased, diluted in that 
 odd style of expression which some Roman Catholic 
 priests affect, but Abbe Donadei had not been able 
 to find a religious periphrasis for the post-chaise, and his 
 hypocritical letter ended coarsely, by a gendarme-like 
 offer which no one could misinterpret. The graceful abbe,
 
 SAUVAIRE'S MONEY'S WORTH OF FUN. 209 
 
 to have cast aside the sly prudence that guided him in 
 all his acts, must have been carried away by fierce desire. 
 
 The clerk read and re-read the letter, asking himself 
 what he had better do. He felt indignant, his anger rose 
 within him. But one anxiety restrained him. He was 
 ignorant as to the harm that had been done, he did not 
 know what Mademoiselle Claire thought, and he was afraid 
 lest Donadei, in the mysterious seclusion of the confessional, 
 had not already succeeded in troubling the young girl's 
 heart. Before striking the priest he wanted to be sure 
 that he would not, at the same time, strike his victim. 
 For nothing in the world would he have run the risk of 
 creating a scandal that would certainly have killed M. 
 Marteliy. 
 
 He resolved that if the abbe were to be the only 
 one to suffer, to punish him in an original way. He took 
 the prayer-book and went to Mademoiselle Claire in great 
 alarm lest her face should display incriminating emotion. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IN WHICH SAUVAIRT-: MAKES UP HIS MIXD TO 
 HAVE HIS MONEY'S WORTH OF FUN. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRE MAKTKLLY was a tall, handsome girl 
 of twenty-three, whom circumstances had thrown into 
 devotion. She was to have married one of her cousins, 
 who was accidentally drowned at Endoume during a pleasure 
 trip. Despair had brought her nearer to God, and, little 
 by little, she had tasted such sweetness in frequenting 
 churches that she had fallen asleep, as it were, in the 
 penetrating perfume of the incense, soothed by the murmur- 
 ing voices of the priests. 
 
 Hers was not precisely a religious mind, it was a gentle 
 and contemplative one, which religion had consoled, and 
 which was grateful on that account. Perhaps, one of these 
 days, there might be an awakening and she would return 
 to the joys of the world. In the meanwhile she lived a 
 rather retired, calm life, and her tastes were simple. Her
 
 210 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 brother, who was a free-thinker and a Republican, of broad 
 intellect and a kindly nature, allowed her to do as 
 she pleased. He only took advantage of his position as 
 head of the family, to protect her interests and assure her 
 an independent position. 
 
 Marius found Mademoiselle Claire in a small drawing- 
 room where she generally worked at baby-linen which 
 she gave away to the poor. The young girl knew Marius 
 and treated him affectionately, as a friend of the family. 
 M. Martelly had often taken his clerk with him to an estate 
 he owned near Estaque, and there Marius and Claire had 
 become good friends. Brave hearts find each other out 
 and are not long in coming to an understanding. 
 
 The beautiful devout on seeing the clerk enter, jumped 
 up and held out her hand to him. 
 
 "Ah! It's you, Marius," she exclaimed gaily. " So you're 
 well again. So much the better. Heaven has granted 
 my prayer." 
 
 The young man felt very much touched at this friendly 
 welcome. He gazed in the young girl's eyes and found 
 naught there but a pure flame and a look of calm virgin- 
 ity. That look appeared to him so tranquil and straight- 
 forward, that he felt as if relieved of a lump that had 
 been choking him. 
 
 "I thank you," he answered. "But I have not come 
 to show you a ghost." 
 
 And handing her the prayer-book, he added : 
 
 "Here is a mass-book which it appears you left behind 
 you yesterday at Saint- Victor." 
 
 "Ah! yes," said the young girl. "I was going to send 
 and fetch it. How did it come into your hands?" 
 
 "A beadle just brought it." 
 
 "A beadle!" 
 
 "Yes, from Abbe Donadei." 
 
 Claire took the book and placed it quietly on a piece 
 of furniture without showing the least concern. Marius 
 followed her anxiously with his eyes. If the slightest colour 
 had risen to her cheeks, he would have thought all lost. 
 
 "By the way," continued the young girl, sitting down, 
 "I think you know M. Chastanier."
 
 SAUVAIRE S MONEY'S WORTH OF FUN. 2 I I 
 
 "Yes," answered Marius astonished. 
 
 "He is an excellent man, is he not?" 
 
 " Certainly, he has a good heart and a profoundly pious 
 and upright mind." 
 
 " My brother has sung his praises to me loudly ; but in 
 religious matters, you know, I do not place unlimited 
 confidence in my brother." 
 
 She smiled. Marius could not understand what she 
 was coming to; only he found her so quiet and happy 
 that he felt entirely reassured. 
 
 "I see Abbe Chastanier is a positive saint," she 
 continued, "and from to-morrow I shall entrust him with 
 the care of directing my conscience." 
 
 " Are you going to leave Abbe Donadei ?" exclaimed 
 Marius, warmly. 
 
 The young girl again raised her head, surprised at the 
 clerk's tone of voice. 
 
 "Yes, I am leaving him," she answered, very simply. 
 " He is young and has the light mind of an Italian. 
 Besides, I have learnt ugly things about him." 
 
 She continued stitching quietly with her needle, there 
 was not a tremor in her hands and her forehead remained 
 white and pure. Then Marius withdrew, convinced that he 
 could act without wounding this virgin conscience, and 
 that while punishing Donadei, he would punish him only. 
 He did not know the real cause that had decided Claire 
 to change her confessor; perhaps she had understood 
 that she was no longer in safety in the hands of the 
 gallant abbe; but, in any case, there had been no actor 
 word at which she had cause to blush. 
 
 Marius had preserved the soft pink paper containing 
 Donadei's declaration. He could have simply taken it to 
 the Bishop of Marseilles, but he preferred to punish and 
 deride the abbe himself, in return for his having impudently 
 made fun of him when he had sought to recommend 
 Philippe to his kindness. His plan was formed. Only 
 to put it into execution, he required the assistance of 
 Sauvaire. 
 
 He did not return to his office after lunch, but went 
 in search of the master-stevedore in all the cafes. Sauvaire
 
 212 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 was not to be found. He then made up his mind to go 
 and ask Cadet Cougourdan if he knew where his principal 
 was in hiding. 
 
 "Oh! He is not hiding himself, that's not his habit," 
 answered Cadet laughing. " He must be in a restaurant 
 at the Reserve, and I'll bet he's trying to show himself 
 to all Marseilles." 
 
 Marius went down to the Port and was rowed to the 
 Reserve in one of those small pleasure boats supplied 
 with a spare red-and-yellow striped awning. The boat 
 glided slowly over the dense water of the harbour, amidst 
 refuse of all sorts, orange peel, vegetable remains, objects 
 without a name which were gathered together in a sort of 
 whitish froth. And it continued on its way in the middle 
 of a passage preserved between the vessels, skimming along 
 in proximity to their dark sides. It was as if lost in a 
 forest which shot up, on all sides, its straight, slender stems, 
 each surmounted by a shred of crimson bunting. 
 
 Before Marius had landed he could hear the noisy 
 laughter of Sauvaire seated at a table on a terrace of a 
 restaurant. He could not be seen, but he arranged matters 
 so as to make known he was there. 
 
 The restaurants at the Reserve resemble those at Asnieres 
 and Saint Cloud : they are chalets, pavilions, all kinds of 
 ugly architectural conceptions. As a matter of fact they 
 are built of plaster and planks, and the blasts of wind 
 threaten to blow them out to sea. Sauvaire delighted in 
 frequenting these restaurants because the charges there 
 are very high, and one can be seen a long way off. 
 
 Marius, guided by the master-stevedore's elevated voice, 
 found him at once. He was on a terrace with Clairori 
 and Isnarde whom he no longer left : he was convinced 
 he had the appearance of being more wealthy when dragging 
 two women along with him, one on each arm. The terrace 
 trembled beneath the storm of Sauvaire 's gaiety. Moreover, 
 the worthy man was getting slightly tipsy. 
 
 "Bravo, bravo!" he shouted, perceiving Marius, "we will 
 begin lunching again. We have been lunching since noon. 
 We have eaten cockles, bouillabaisse, tunny 
 
 He continued and enumerated a dozen dishes with
 
 SAUVAIRE'S MONEY'S WORTH OF FUN. 213 
 
 childlike pride. He felt quite flattered at having given 
 himself indigestion. 
 
 " Heh ! " he continued, " one is very comfortable here. 
 It's expensive, but everything is very correct. What will 
 you have to eat? " 
 
 Marius excused himself, pointing out that it was three 
 o'clock and that he had lunched long before. 
 
 "Go along with you! One can always eat," exclaimed 
 Sauvaire, delighted at being caught at such a rakish pleasure 
 party. " We are going on eating like this until evening. 
 It'll cost money, but so much the worse! Clairon, my 
 girl, you'll get drunk if you take so much champagne." 
 
 Clairon paid no attention to the remark and swallowed 
 another large glass. Besides, she had nothing to fear as 
 she was tipsy already. 
 
 "Good heavens! How amusing these women are!" 
 continued Sauvaire rising and fanning himself with his 
 napkin. 
 
 He went towards the balustrade on the terrace and 
 shouted out very loud, so as to be heard by the passers-by: 
 
 " I've already spent a great deal of money with them, 
 but I don't regret it, they're so comical!" 
 
 Marius leant over towards him. 
 
 "Do you want to have a good evening to-morrow?" 
 he asked him. 
 
 " Of course, I do," answered Sauvaire. 
 
 "It will cost you a few louis." 
 
 "The deuce! Will it be very funny?" 
 
 "Very funny indeed. You shall have your money's 
 worth of laughter." 
 
 " I accept then." 
 
 " All Marseilles will hear of the affair, and they'll be 
 talking of you for a week afterwards. 
 
 " I accept, I accept." 
 
 "Very well, listen." 
 
 Marius bent down to Sauvaire's ear and spoke to him 
 in a low voice. He explained his plan. An instant later 
 the master-stevedore burst into a fit of laughter that almost 
 choked him. He thought the thing funny, very funny. 
 
 "That's agreed," he said, when Marius had told him
 
 214 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 his secret. "I will be on the Boulevard de la Corderie 
 with Clairon to-morrow evening at ten o'clock. Ah ! What 
 a good joke!" 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HOW ABBE DONADEI ELOPED WITH THE 
 SISTER SOUL TO HIS OWN. 
 
 ABBE DONADEI had allowed himself to be overcome by 
 one of those violent desires which sometimes burst out 
 in cunning, sneaking natures. He so clever, so prudent, 
 had been guilty of a clumsy mistake. He was conscious 
 of it when the beadle had left with the prayei- 
 book and love-letter. From that moment he must be 
 prepared to meet all the consequences of his audacious 
 act. Claire had excited a yearning in him which he meant 
 to satisfy in spite of all. He was beyond the sacred 
 scruples of his calling. He looked on things human 
 from too lofty a height, he had mixed in too many jobs 
 of a more or less honourable nature, to hesitate at a seduction. 
 That was the least thing that troubled him. It was the 
 sequel to the seduction, at which he felt alarmed. 
 
 For two long months he had tried to attract the young 
 girl to his house. Then, as she was about to accede to his 
 wish in all simplicity, he had renounced that plan, convinced 
 that an intrigue of this nature could not be carried on in 
 the midst of Marseilles. It was thus that he had little 
 by little reached the point of wishing to play all for all, 
 like a daring gambler; his passion was increasing and 
 torturing him and he was ready to exchange his influential 
 position for a woman's free and entire love: he preferred 
 to elope with Claire openly, and fly with her to Italy. 
 
 Donadei was too sharp and intelligent not to have 
 thought of a retreat. If the young girl in the long run 
 had been in his way, he would have shut her up in a 
 convent and obtained the forgiveness of his uncle the 
 Cardinal. When he had examined and calculated every- 
 thing, an elopement seemed to him the most easy and prompt
 
 HOW ABBE DOXADEI ELOPED. 215 
 
 of all plans and the one which presented the least danger. 
 
 He only feared one thing: that Claire would not keep 
 the appointment and would refuse to run away with him. 
 Then, the love-letter would become a terrible arm. He 
 would be without the girl and might lose his position. 
 But he was blinded by desire, he did not notice the calm 
 candour of his penitent, but took the acts of adoration 
 addressed to the Almighty for so many mute avowals made 
 to himself. 
 
 However, he had still fears, and regretted having ad- 
 vanced too far to be able to retreat. All his prudence 
 and cowardice returned to him, and he impatiently awaited 
 the beadle's return. As soon as he caught sight of him 
 
 O O 
 
 he exclaimed : 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " I gave the book," answered the beadle. 
 
 "To the young lady herself?" 
 
 "Yes, to the voung lady." 
 
 The beadle made this answer with superb self-possession. 
 On his way back he regretted having given Marius the 
 
 J O O O 
 
 prayer-book, and, as he saw that he had performed his 
 errand very badly, he determined to lie in order to deserve 
 the abbe's good will. 
 
 Donadei felt somewhat reassured. He judged that if 
 the young girl felt offended at the note, she would burn 
 it. Hazard, forgetting a prayer-book, had hastened a 
 solution that he had been seeking so long. He had now 
 only to wait. 
 
 The next morning, he received the visit of a veiled lady 
 whose features he was unable to distinguish. This person 
 handed him a letter and promptly withdrew. The missive 
 only contained these words: "Yes, to-night!" Donadei 
 was beside himself with delight, and set about making his 
 
 O ' O 
 
 preparations for departure. 
 
 If anyone had followed the veiled lady, they would 
 have seen her join the gallant Sauvaire who was awaiting 
 her in the Rue du Petit Chanticr. She raised her veil: it 
 was Clairon. 
 
 " He's a very nice fellow that abbe," she said, on 
 reaching the master-stevedore.
 
 2l6 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " Does he please you? So much the better! " answered 
 Sauvaire. And they went off bursting with laughter. 
 
 At about half-past nine in the evening, Clairon and 
 Sauvaire were again in the Rue du Petit Chantier. They 
 walked slowly, stopping at each step as if waiting for 
 someone. Clairon, who was dressed simply in a black 
 woollen gown, had her face hidden beneath a thick veil. 
 Sauvaire was disguised as a commissionaire. 
 
 "Here's Marius," the latter suddenly exclaimed. 
 
 " Are you ready ? " inquired the young man in an 
 undertone, as soon as he was close to them. " Do you 
 know your parts well ? " 
 
 " Of course ! " answered the master-stevedore. " You'll 
 see how we can act. Ah! the good joke! I shall be 
 laughing over it for the next six months." 
 
 " Go on to the abbe's, we will wait for you here. Be 
 prudent." 
 
 Sauvaire went and knocked at Donadei's door. It was 
 opened by the abbe himself who was attired in a travelling 
 suit and seemed very excited. 
 
 " What do you want ? " he inquired roughly, disappointed 
 at seeing a man before him. 
 
 " I have come with a young lady, " answered the sham 
 commissionaire. 
 
 " Good, let her come in quickly." 
 
 "She would not come up to the door." 
 
 " Ah ! " 
 
 "She said like this: 'Tell the gentleman that I prefer 
 going straight to the carriage.' " 
 
 " Wait a minute. I have something to take with me." 
 
 " Yes, but you see the young lady is afraid, standing in 
 the middle of the Boulevard." 
 
 " Then run quick and tell her that the post-chaise is 
 at the corner of the Rue des Tyrans. Let her get in. I 
 shall be there in five minutes." 
 
 Donadei banged the door to, and Sauvaire held his 
 sides and almost split with silent laughter. This adventure 
 beat everything he had ever heard of. 
 
 He returned to the Rue du Petit Chantier, where Clairon 
 and Marius were awaiting him.
 
 HOW ABBE DONADEI ELOPED. 217 
 
 " Everything is proceeding marvellously well," he said 
 to them in an undertone, "the abbe falls into the trap 
 with angelic innocence. I know where the post-chaise is." 
 
 "I noticed it coming along," said Marius, "it is at the 
 corner of the Rue des Tyrans." 
 
 " That's it, there is not a moment to spare, the abbe 
 has promised to be there in five minutes." 
 
 All three set off along the Boulevard de la Corderie, 
 as far as the Rue des Tyrans, skirting the houses. There 
 they perceived the post-chaise standing in the shade, all 
 loaded and ready to start at the first crack of the whip. 
 Marius and Sauvaire hid themselves under the archway 
 of a great door. Clairon stood before them in the road. 
 
 Sauvaire and Clairon joked in a low voice while awaiting 
 the abbe. 
 
 "Pooh! He will not care for me," said Clairon. "He 
 will cast me off at the first change of horses." 
 
 " Who knows ? " 
 
 " He's very nice. I was afraid he would be old." 
 
 " But, I say, you seem in love witli the abbe. Oh ! 
 I'm not jealous. Only if you're going off so willingly with 
 him, you might return me the thousand francs I gave you 
 to persuade you to assist us." 
 
 "The thousand francs! Oh! indeed, and if he suddenly 
 leaves me, must not I pay for my journey back ? " 
 
 " I was joking, my dear, I don't take back what I 
 have given. Besides, I'm having my money's worth of 
 laughter." 
 
 Marius intervened, repeating his instructions to Clairon. 
 
 "Do exactly as I told you," he said. "Try to arrange 
 so that he does not discover the trick until lie is some 
 leagues from Marseilles. Do not speak, play your part 
 with art. When he has discovered even-thing, act firmly, 
 tell him I have his note and am determined to take 
 it to the bishop, if you suffer the least harm, or if he 
 shows himself again here. Advise him to go and seek 
 fortune elsewhere." 
 
 "Can I return at once to Marseilles?" inquired Clairon. 
 
 "Certainly. I onlv want to drive him from the city 
 by makincr him ridiculous for ever. I could have had him
 
 2l8 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 expelled from the church by his superiors, but I prefer 
 annihilating him by mockery." 
 
 Sauvaire was splitting with laughter at the thought of 
 the scene between Abbe Donadei and Clairon. 
 
 " Eh! my dear," he continued, "tell him you are married 
 and that your husband will no doubt be seeking you 
 everywhere to prosecute you for your misconduct. Shall I 
 run after you, and put your ravisher in a horrible fright?" 
 
 The idea of this joke so amused Sauvaire that he very 
 nearly choked with hilarity. In the meanwhile Marius had 
 noticed a dark form advancing rapidly towards them. 
 
 " Silence ! " he exclaimed. " Here, I think, is our man. 
 Attend to your part, Clairon. Place yourself in front of 
 the carriage door." 
 
 Sauvaire and Marius secreted themselves more closely 
 in their hiding-place, and Clairon, with her face thickly 
 veiled and dressed all in black, stood in the shadow 
 thrown by the post-chaise. It was Donadei, quite out 
 of breath. He had thrown off the cowl and looked very 
 smart in ordinary mufti. 
 
 "Dear, dear Claire," he murmured with emotion, kissing 
 Clairon's hand, "how good of you to have come!" 
 
 " Claire, Clairon," muttered Sauvaire, " it's all the same." 
 
 "Ah! Providence must have advised you," continued 
 the priest, pushing the girl gently into the carriage and 
 then following her. " We are off to Paradise," he added. 
 
 The postillion cracked his whip and the post-chaise 
 started away with a frightful rumbling noise. Sauvaire 
 and Marius then showed themselves, laughing until they 
 almost cried. 
 
 " Eh ! the abbe is eloping with the sister soul to his 
 own," said Marius. 
 
 " A pleasant journey, abbe," cried Sauvaire. 
 
 When the chaise had disappeared in the night, bearing 
 away Donadei and Clairon, the master-stevedore and 
 young clerk sauntered down the Boulevard de la Corderie, 
 chatting about the adventure and giving way to sudden 
 displays of gaiety, at the thought of the priest travelling 
 alone with this creature. 
 
 "Can you fancy the face he'll make presently," said
 
 HOW ABBE DONADEI ELOPED. 219 
 
 Sauvaire, " when he raises Clairon's veil ? Between you 
 and me and the lamp-post, you know, Clairon is ugly. 
 She is at least forty." 
 
 The master-stevedore willingly acknowledged Clairon's 
 age and ugliness, since the girl's forty summers and faded 
 countenance made the joke he was playing the more 
 amusing. 
 
 He was splitting with laughter and anxious to reach 
 the Cannebiere to tell his friends the story. Marius, 
 who was more serious, was thinking he had given the 
 priest the company he deserved. He left the master- 
 stevedore at about eleven o'clock at night and went home. 
 
 At midnight everyone at Marseilles who had not then 
 retired to rest, knew that Abbe Donadei had just eloped 
 in a post-chaise, with a girl who had been wallowing in all 
 the debauchery of the city for the previous fifteen years. 
 Sauvaire had been shouting out the news in the cafes, and 
 had related the adventure with a wonderful profusion of 
 detail. That precious phrase of the graceful abbe as he 
 got into the chaise: " We're off to Paradise!" was repeated 
 from mouth to mouth. They knew he had kissed her 
 hand; and they speculated as to the reason why the 
 amorous couple had lied. 
 
 The best part of the business was that Sauvaire, not 
 knowing why Marius had had Clairon carried off, displayed 
 absolute naivete. He understood that if Donadei's passion 
 for her could be made to appear serious, the joke would 
 be all the more funnv, and he therefore lied with all the 
 assurance of an inhabitant of the south of Fr;mce; he 
 made believe that the priest was really dving of love for 
 this wrinkled, sallow-faced creature, worn-out with shame, 
 who was known to cvervonc. 
 
 There was general astonishment, universal mockery; 
 people could not believe that the gallant abbe, with whom 
 the penitent ladies of Marseilles were so charmed, had run 
 away with such a woman, and thcv jeered to their heart's 
 content at the monstrous alliance. 
 
 Next day the scandal was known to the whole city. 
 Sauvaire triumphed and became a personage. They knew 
 he had been Clairon's last protector, and that the abbe
 
 220 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 had stolen the girl away from him. All day he sauntered 
 up and down the Cannebiere in slippers, comically 
 receiving the condolences of his intimate acquaintances. 
 He shouted out very loud, answering some, calling to others, 
 using and abusing of his popularity. He certainly did 
 not regret his thousand francs: he had never put out 
 money for his amusement at so high a rate of interest. 
 
 The scandal became awful when Clairon returned two 
 days later. Sauvaire bought her a silk gown and drove 
 about Marseilles with her for a week, in an open carriage. 
 People pointed them out, and ran to their doors as they 
 passed by. The master-stevedore almost burst with delight. 
 
 Clairon had gone as far as Toulon. Abbe Donadei 
 had not been long in discovering the kind of person he 
 was eloping with : he had then flown into a frightful rage, 
 and wanted to throw her out on the highway at one 
 o'clock in the morning, far from any dwelling. But Clairon 
 was not to be so easily got rid of. She had talked big 
 and threatened the abbe, making use of the arms Marius 
 held in his hands. Donadei trembling and compelled to 
 give way, had been obliged to conduct his companion as 
 far as Toulon, where they separated, Clairon returning to 
 Marseilles, and the priest hurrying across the frontier. 
 
 Sauvaire drove the young person so much about and 
 raised such an outcry, that the authorities took the matter 
 in hand, and at the Bishop's request sent Clairon to 
 exercise the power of her charms elsewhere. Since then 
 the master-stevedore in his effusive moments, which occurred 
 ten or twelve times a day, was in the habit of saying to 
 all who liked to listen to him : " Ah ! if you only knew 
 what a pretty person I had under my protection ! It was 
 the priests who took her away from me!" 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 PHILIPPE'S RANSOM. 
 
 MARIUS went to his office, on the day following the elope- 
 ment, delighted with his expedition of the previous evening.
 
 PHILIPPE'S RANSOM. 221 
 
 He had just saved an honourable family from despair, 
 and had delivered the city of an intriguing man, against 
 whom he had, moreover, a personal grievance. He was 
 about to set to work with a light heart and tranquil 
 conscience, when they came and told him that M. Martelly 
 would be pleased to sec him. 
 
 On his way to the drawing-room the young man suddenly 
 made up his mind to ask his principal to lend him the 
 money for Philippe's ransom. This decision set him all 
 of a tremble. He felt he would never dare make such a 
 request if he did not do so by a sort of impulse. As he 
 had to see M. Martelly it would be useless to wait any 
 longer, it would be better to risk the application at once. 
 
 He found M. Martelly and Abbe Chastanier in the 
 drawing-room. The ship-owner was pale and his eyes 
 were sparkling with anger. He came straight to the clerk 
 and speaking rapidly, said to him : 
 
 "You are a straightforward and courageous young man, 
 and I thought I would not act in such a serious matter 
 as this without asking your advice." 
 
 Abbe Chastanier appeared sad and ashamed. He made 
 himself quite small in an armchair, his poor hands 
 trembling with age and grief. 
 
 "I have just had this gentleman's visit," continued M. 
 Martelly to Marius, pointing out the old priest, "and have 
 received information of a plot that has quite upset me." 
 
 "Be calm for mercy's sake," interrupted the priest, "do 
 not make me repent having done my duty as an upright 
 man, in coming to set you on your guard. I mav have 
 been unnecessarily alarmed." 
 
 "You would not be here, sir, if vour suspicions were 
 not based on certitude. I thank you for your visit; I 
 understand the feelings of dignitv that have brought you 
 to my house, and I even understand the final effort you 
 arc making to protect the infamous 
 
 The ship-owner turned to Marius and continued in a 
 bitter tone : 
 
 "Only fancy, a priest is trying, at this moment, to dis- 
 honour me. This gentleman has just told me to watch 
 over Claire. He has informed me with manv omissions
 
 222 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 that Abbe Donadei exercises a dangerous influence over 
 her and that he fears Ah! if that wretch has tarnished 
 the child's purity, I'll kill him like a dog! " 
 
 Abbe Chastanier hung his head. He did not regret the 
 steps he had taken, he had acted as an upright man ; but 
 he was quite overcome at M. Martelly's explosion of anger. 
 He suffered as much as if he had been guilty himself: he 
 felt ashamed for the entire Church. 
 
 The ship-owner became a little more calm, and after a 
 few moments' silence continued: 
 
 " I did not want to come to a decision before consulting 
 a quiet and intelligent man, and I sent for you, Marius. 
 My first impulse was to run to this priest and smack him 
 in the face. There is perhaps another course to pursue 
 that would be better." 
 
 Marius had listened quietly to his principal and this 
 somewhat tranquillized Abbe Chastanier. The young man 
 who had his answer all ready, was not thinking of Donadei ; 
 he was wondering how he could solicit a loan. At that 
 moment he heard M. Martelly say to him in a loud voice: 
 
 "Come, in my place, what would you do?" 
 
 The young man smiled : 
 
 "I would do what I have already done/' he answered 
 simply, and he gave an account of Clairon's elopement. 
 From the first words, as soon as the young man had 
 spoken of the interview he had had with Claire about the 
 prayer-book, M. Martelly pressed his hands effusively. The 
 certitude that his sister had not dreamt of the peril through 
 which she had passed gave him great joy. He became 
 quite gay when he had heard the whole account of the 
 adventure, and even Abbe Chastanier could not restrain 
 a sad smile. 
 
 " I should not have confessed to you," concluded Marius, 
 " the part I had taken in this mystification if you had 
 remained in ignorance of the danger threatening you. I 
 merely wished to reassure you." 
 
 " Do not try to escape my gratitude," exclaimed the 
 ship-owner. " I already looked on you as an adopted son, 
 and you have just rendered me so great a service that I 
 really do not know how to recompense you."
 
 PHILIPPE'S RANSOM. 223 
 
 Speaking thus he took Marius aside and then gave him 
 a kind and encouraging look in the face. 
 
 " Have you no secret to tell me ? " he inquired in an 
 undertone. 
 
 Marius became troubled. 
 
 " You are a great child," continued M. Martelly. " Fortun- 
 ately I saw Mademoiselle Fine during your illness; otherwise 
 I should still be in ignorance. Wait, I'll sign you a draft 
 for fifteen thousand francs which you can encash, at once, 
 in the counting-house if you wish." 
 
 Marius on hearing the ship-owner's generous offer was 
 spell-bound to the spot. He turned pale and inexpressible 
 emotion filled his eyes with great tears. He felt like 
 choking and was afraid of bursting out into sobs. 
 
 Eh! What! He was suddenly offered this money 
 which he had been seeking for in despair for so many 
 months! He had asked for nothing and his dearest wishes 
 were satisfied ! He thought he must be dreaming. 
 
 O o 
 
 M. Martelly had gone towards a table. He sat down 
 and was preparing to write out an order on his firm. But 
 before doing so he raised his head and simply said to 
 Marius : 
 
 " It's fifteen thousand francs that you require, is it not ? " 
 
 This question drew the young man from his stupor. 
 He joined his hands and said in a trembling voice: 
 
 "How is it you know my secret thoughts ? What have 
 I done that you should be so good and generous?" 
 
 The ship-owner smiled: 
 
 "I will not say to you, as they do to children, that my 
 little finger has told me all, but, in truth I received the 
 visit of a fairy. Have I not already confessed it to you ? 
 Mademoiselle Fine came to see me." 
 
 The young man at last understood. He thanked warmly, 
 from the bottom of his heart, the good angel who, while 
 saving him from death, had worked to bring him tranquillity 
 and hope. He now understood the llowor-giiTs placid, 
 smiling countenance, when he had spoken to her of 
 Philippe. She was certain of the prisoner's safety, she had 
 accomplished all alone, the whole of the hard work connected 
 with raisin"- a loan. Marius hardlv knew if he oueht to
 
 224 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 throw himself at M. Martelly's feet or at Fine's. He was 
 overcome with gratitude. 
 
 The ship-owner was delighted to see his clerk's coun- 
 tenance lit up with joy. His eyes met those of Abbe 
 Chastanier who had remained seated and the two men 
 understood each other: the free-thinker, the republican, 
 as well as the priest, experienced the joy of doing good, 
 the delicious sensation of making another happy, and of 
 being present to see that happiness. 
 
 "But," exclaimed Marius, amidst his delight, "I do 
 not know when I shall be able to refund you so large a 
 sum." 
 
 " Do not let that trouble you," answered the ship-owner. 
 "You have rendered me great services, you have, perhaps, 
 just saved me from dishonour. Allow me to oblige you 
 without it being a question of refunding between us." 
 
 And as a sort of gloom passed across Marius' forehead, 
 he took his hand and added : 
 
 "I do not mean to pay you for your devotedness, my 
 friend. I know there are some debts that cannot be 
 settled with money. I beg you to look at the matter in 
 a different light: you have been with me for the last ten 
 years, and I trust you will remain much longer; well! the 
 fifteen thousand francs I am about to give you are a 
 gratuity, a small share in the profits I have made with 
 your help. You cannot refuse." 
 
 M. Martelly bent forward to sign the order when Marius 
 stopped him again. 
 
 " Do you know the use I am going to make of this 
 money ? " he inquired, with some concern. 
 
 The ship-owner laid down his pen, annoyed and rather 
 pale. 
 
 "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "how difficult it is to 
 oblige straightforward people ! They compel you to know 
 everything. But for mercy's sake do not make me your 
 accomplice. I am aware you are a good fellow, a devoted 
 and affectionate soul. That is all. I have no need to 
 know about all your acts and all your thoughts. You will 
 never do a bad action, will you? That's quite enough 
 for me."
 
 PHILIPPE'S RANSOM. 225 
 
 M. Martelly obedient to a scruple which was quite 
 reasonable, wished to appear ignorant that the money he 
 was giving Marius was going to purchase a conscience. 
 But apart from that, he lent a willing hand to Philippe's 
 escape, being aware of the arms M. de Cazalis had made 
 use of to imprison the young man. However, in principle, 
 he wished to preserve his republican austerity intact, he 
 had made up his mind that he would not openly be an 
 accomplice of the escape. 
 
 Marius insisted. Then Abbe Chastanier intervened with 
 that blind sentiment of charity, that always made him 
 accept the heaviest responsibilities. 
 
 "Do not refuse," he said to the young man. "I know 
 your plans and I will be your guarantor with M. Martelly 
 that what you want to do is right and legitimate." 
 
 He smiled, with his meek smile of an old man. Marius 
 understood what supreme charity had dictated his words 
 and warmly shook his hands. In the meantime the ship- 
 owner had signed the draft for fifteen thousand francs. 
 
 "There," he said, handing Marius the paper. "I 
 advise you to go to the counting-house at once." 
 
 And as the young man, after thanking him again, was 
 about to withdraw, he called him back : 
 
 "Look here," he added, "you must still be a little out 
 of sorts. Take a week's holiday. You will work all the 
 better afterwards." 
 
 He wished to give him time to deliver Philippe. Marius 
 understood it, and was again moved to tears. He hastened 
 away so as not to cry like a child, and repaired at once 
 to the counting-house. When he had the fifteen thousand 
 francs in his pocket, he went downstairs in four jumps, 
 then he ran along the street like a madman to find Fine. 
 
 The flower-girl was just then in her little room on the 
 Place aux CEufs. Marius burst in on her laughing and 
 dancing like a lunatic, took the young girl in his arms 
 and gave her a spanking kiss on each check. Then he 
 spread the fifteen banknotes out on the table. Fine, who 
 was astonished and almost frightened at his sudden entrance, 
 now began to laugh and clap her hands. 
 
 A charming scene full of mutual tenderness and effusive 
 
 15
 
 226 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 thanks followed. Marius vowed he was a simpleton and 
 that she alone had saved the ship. He kissed her hands, 
 fell on his knees before her and gazed up at her face 
 with a troubled expression of ecstasy. She on her side 
 blushed, protested warmly and sought to prove that she 
 did not deserve the least acknowledgment. 
 
 For six months they had given themselves up entirely 
 to a difficult task, and had knocked in vain at every door. 
 And, now, all of a sudden, Philippe's ransom was spread 
 out before their eyes. Naturally they forgot all their 
 anxiety and fear, all the shame and stupidity with which 
 they had momentarily come in contact. There was nothing 
 in their hearts, at present, but tranquillity and intense joy. 
 
 Before separating they arranged that they would leave 
 for Aix the following morning. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 THE ESCAPE. 
 
 THE next morning, at about seven o'clock, Marius hired 
 a cabriolet. He did not wish to go by the diligence, and 
 as he needed a vehicle for the flight he preferred to hire 
 one at Marseilles which would take him to Aix, and serve 
 to bring back his brother. On the previous evening he 
 had made an arrangement with a sea captain to convey 
 Philippe to Genoa. 
 
 Marius and Fine set out at nine o'clock, the young man 
 driving. It was quite a pleasure party for the two lovers. 
 At the hill of La Viste, they got down and ran along the 
 road like children, letting the horse come on at his own 
 pace. They breakfasted in a small room at an auberge 
 at Septemes, and at dessert sketched out a multitude of 
 plans for the future. Now that Philippe was about to be 
 set at liberty they could think of their marriage, and were 
 quite affected as they saw the time approaching when they 
 would be able to love in peace. 
 
 The remainder of the journey was also very gay. To- 
 wards noon they passed beside the Albertas property, and
 
 THE ESCAPE. 227 
 
 stopped again, to give the horse breath and take rest 
 themselves, beneath the trees on the right hand side of 
 the road, reaching Aix at three o'clock. Notwithstanding 
 all the delay, they still arrived too soon. So as not to 
 arouse suspicion they had decided not to go to the prison 
 until the evening. In the meantime the young man left 
 the cabriolet in care of his companion in a deserted street, 
 and proceeded to the house of his relative Isnard, who 
 placed horse and trap in safety, promising to bring them 
 at midnight precisely to the summit of the hill of Arc. 
 When these precautions had been taken the two young 
 people hid themselves until dark. 
 
 As Marius and Fine were returning to Isnard's shop, 
 the former, at the turn of a street, almost fell into the 
 arms of M. de Cazalis, but he walked on rapidly with 
 his head bent down, and the deputy did not notice him; 
 nevertheless the young man was in despair at this meeting. 
 He felt extremely anxious, fearing that some new misfortune 
 might happen at the eleventh hour, to prevent him bringing 
 his task to a happy issue. M. de Cazalis had no doubt 
 come to Aix to hasten his veng'eance, he thought, and 
 had perhaps succeeded. 
 
 Marius was in a fever until the evening, and the most 
 strange ideas passed through his mind. Now that he had 
 the money, he dreaded meeting with other obstacles. At 
 last, at nine o'clock, he went to the gaol accompanied by 
 Fine. The two young people knocked at the massive door. 
 A heavy step was heard and a harsh voice inquired what 
 they wanted. 
 
 "It is us, uncle," exclaimed Fine. "Open the door." 
 "Open quick, Monsieur Revertegat," added Marius in 
 his turn. 
 
 The voice grumbled and answered in a surly tone : 
 " M. Revertegat is no longer here, he is ill." 
 The wicket was shut, and Marius and Fine stood mute 
 and bewildered at the closed door. 
 
 The flower-girl had not thought it necessary to write to 
 her uncle for four months. She had his promise and that 
 sufficed. So the news of his illness fell on her and her 
 companion like a thunderbolt. It had never struck them
 
 228 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 that the old fellow might be ill. And now all their efforts 
 were paralysed by an unforeseen impediment. They had 
 Philippe's ransom and were unable to deliver him. When 
 they had in a measure recovered from their painful 
 astonishment, Fine drew herself up. 
 
 "Let us go and see my uncle," she exclaimed, "he 
 must be with one of his cousins in the Rue de la Glaciere." 
 
 "What's the use?" answered Marius, "all is lost." 
 
 " No, no, come along." 
 
 He followed her as if bowed down by despair, while she 
 stepped out boldly, unable to believe that chance could 
 possibly be so cruel. 
 
 Revertegat was, in fact, at his cousins' in the Rue de la 
 Glaciere. He had been laid up there for a fortnight. 
 When he saw the young people enter, he understood their 
 errand. He raised himself up, kissed his niece on the 
 forehead, and said to her with a smile : 
 
 " Well ! the hour has come then ? " 
 
 "We have been to the prison," answered the young 
 girl, "and they told us^ you were ill." 
 
 " Good heavens ! why did you not warn us ? " exclaimed 
 Marius sorrowfully, " we would have been more expeditious."' 
 
 "Yes," continued the flower-girl, "now you are no 
 longer gaoler, what are we going to do ? " 
 
 Revertegat looked at them and seemed surprised at their 
 despondency. 
 
 " Why are you in such despair ? " he inquired at last. 
 "I am rather unwell, it is true; I asked for a holiday, 
 but I still hold my post; I shall be at your orders to- 
 morrow evening, if you like." 
 
 Marius and Fine uttered an exclamation of delight. 
 
 "The man who answered you," continued Revertegat, 
 " is taking my place for a few days. To-morrow morning 
 I shall go and resume my duties; I have now only a 
 little fever, and can go out without danger. Besides, the 
 matter is urgent." 
 
 " I knew there was no occasion for despair ! " exclaimed 
 the flower-girl triumphantly. 
 
 Marius was trembling with emotion. 
 
 "You did quite right to come and see me to-day,"
 
 THE ESCAPE. 2 29 
 
 continued the gaoler after a short silence. " I heard this 
 morning that M. de Cazalis was at Aix, and was doing 
 all he could to hasten on the performance of the sentence. 
 They tell me he has succeeded in having it fixed for three 
 days hence. If M. Philippe should not get away to-morrow 
 night, I shall no longer be able to be of use to you, for 
 after to-morrow the prisoner will be transferred to the gaol 
 at Marseilles." 
 
 Marius shuddered. He had come just in time. He 
 arranged with the gaoler and made an appointment for 
 the next evening. He then ran and told Isnard that the 
 escape was delayed for twenty-four hours. 
 
 On the morrow, the two young people remained hidden 
 all day, and having a certitude, they were more calm. 
 The escape was to be made at eleven o'clock. Towards 
 ten, they repaired to the prison. Revertegat, who was at 
 his post, gently opened the door and introduced them 
 into the gaol. 
 
 "All is ready," he said. 
 
 " Is my brother prepared ? " inquired Marius. 
 
 " Yes, but I have had to take some precautions. To 
 -save my responsibility as much as possible, I wish the 
 prisoner to appear to have fled by the window of his 
 cell." 
 
 "That's a capital idea, uncle," Fine interrupted, gaily. 
 
 "This is what I've done," continued Revertegat. "This 
 afternoon I filed through one of the bars at M. Philippe's 
 window, myself." 
 
 " But is it necessary for my brother to go through the 
 window?" asked Marius, anxiously. 
 
 "Not in the least; we shall fetch him now, and he'll 
 walk out with us by the door. Only I shall remove the 
 one bar and fasten a piece of cord to the others. To- 
 morrow they will suppose he escaped that way. I shall 
 all the same send in my resignation, but by following this 
 plan I shall avoid great annoyance." 
 
 Revertegat lit a dark lantern and the three proceeded 
 towards Philippe's cell. They found him up and ready 
 to leave, but he was so pale and emaciated that Marius 
 hesitated to recognise him. They greeted each other in
 
 230 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 silence, refraining from speaking, so as not to make a 
 noise. The gaoler went to the window, wrenched out the 
 iron bar and fastened the cord. Fine had remained in 
 the passage on the watch, and all four then returned down 
 the narrow corridors, gliding slowly along the walls in fear 
 of knocking up against each other in the. dark. 
 
 Marius had not let go of Philippe's hand. As soon as 
 they had attained the gaoler's lodge he threw a cloak 
 over him, hid his head in the hood, and wanted to get 
 away at once. Now that he had almost reached the end 
 of his trouble, he dreaded failure. He started at the least 
 sound. Revertegat who feared that the noise they had 
 made coming along the passages, might have given the 
 alarm, had the greatest difficulty in keeping him quiet for 
 a few minutes ; being determined not to open the gate 
 until he was sure that all was well. When he had as- 
 certained that absolute silence reigned in the prison, he 
 decided to draw back the bolts. 
 
 The two brothers with heads bent down, hurried off 
 towards the Place des Precheurs, Fine remaining behind 
 for a moment, to give her uncle the fifteen thousand francs. 
 She rejoined her companions just as they were entering 
 the little Rue Saint Jean. 
 
 They then took the Cours, walking in the dark shadow 
 of the trees. They had now only one fear: they must 
 quit the town, then closed with gates, which the keepers- 
 were required to open to be-lated travellers; and they 
 were in dread of being stopped there miserably. 
 
 They continued walking, glancing around them, dis- 
 trustful of the few people they happened to meet. On 
 reaching the Rue des Carmes they perceived a man who 
 began following them. Their hearts were beating fit to 
 break. Suddenly this person hurried forward, and came 
 and tapped Marius merrily on the shoulder. 
 
 " Eh ! I'm not mistaken," he said, " it's you, my young 
 friend. What on earth are you doing at this time of night 
 on the Cours ? " 
 
 Marius, in silent anger, was already clenching his fists, 
 when he recognised the voice of M. de Girousse. 
 
 "As you see, I'm taking a walk," he stammered.
 
 THE ESCAPE. 231 
 
 "Ah! You're taking a walk," continued the count in a 
 bantering tone. 
 
 He looked at Fine and particularly at Philippe wrapped 
 up in his cloak. 
 
 "That's a form I know," he murmured. 
 
 And he added with his friendly abruptness of manner : 
 
 " Shall I accompany you ? You wish to leave Aix, do 
 you not ? They don't open the gate to everyone. I know 
 a keeper. Come on." 
 
 Marius gratefully accepted. M. de Girousse had the 
 gate opened without difficulty. On the way he had not 
 addressed a single word to the young people, but when 
 they reached the Place de la Rotonde he held out his 
 hand to Marius and said: 
 
 " I'm going in by the Obitelle Gate. A pleasant journey." 
 
 And bending forward he added in an undertone: 
 
 " I shall have a good laugh to-morrow when I see 
 de Cazalis' face." 
 
 As Marius looked after this generous man, who hid his 
 goodness of heart beneath the sour-tempered manners of 
 a well-doer, he was quite affected. 
 
 Isnard was awaiting the fugitives with the cabriolet. 
 Philippe wished to drive so as to receive all the night 
 air full in the face. He experienced intense delight in 
 feeling the vehicle bearing him away in the darkness and 
 appreciated to the utmost all the charm of liberty. 
 
 Then came effusions of the heart and mutual confidences 
 as the horse slowly ascended the hills. 
 
 Fine and Marius confessed their love to Philippe, and 
 when the latter heard that they would soon be married 
 he became sad. He thought of Blanche. Marius under- 
 stood his feelings and conversing with him, in an undertone, 
 promised to watch over everything during his absence. In 
 the meanwhile he would make active efforts to obtain his 
 pardon, and neither he nor Fine would forget the exile. 
 
 The next morning, Philippe leaning on the bulwarks of a 
 little craft bound for Genoa, gazed for a long time towards 
 the shore of Saint Henri. Right away, above the blue 
 waves, he perceived a grey speck, the house where poor 
 Blanche was shedding away all the tears in her heart.
 
 ffmrt in. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE CONSPIRACY. 
 
 ONE calm evening in February, about two months after 
 Philippe's escape, Blanche was taking a very slow walk. 
 Twilight was just setting in. Far away, the sea was quite 
 pale, and it broke sluggishly over the boulders on the 
 beach, barely making any spray under the impulse of the 
 evening breeze. The warmth of approaching spring could 
 already be detected in the clear air. In the grand blue 
 sky of the south one sometimes meets with winter suns, 
 possessing all the invigorating heat of those of summer. 
 
 The young woman was taking short strides beside the 
 cliff, watching night falling over the waves which were 
 turning a blackish blue, whilst their plaintive sounds were 
 becoming softer. The unhappy girl was much changed. 
 She was barely seventeen, and yet the terrible fatalities of 
 which she had been the victim, had caused her to stoop 
 and had overspread her youthful face with the paleness 
 of death. All her strength, all her gay and thoughtless 
 life had passed away in tears. She was about to become 
 a mother, and she walked along with faltering footsteps, 
 suffering more from mental trouble than from her position. 
 
 A few paces behind her came a tall, thin, stiff-limbed 
 woman, who followed her as a convict-keeper does his 
 prisoner. She did not allow her out of her sight and 
 watched all her movements. This woman was the new 
 guardian whom M. de Cazalis had given his niece during 
 the previous few weeks. 
 
 The deputy was then at Marseilles where he had has- 
 tened as soon as he had heard that a child was about 
 to be born. He wished to be there on the watch. This 
 child, this bastard which was about to make its appearance 
 
 232
 
 THE CONSPIRACY. 233 
 
 in his family, exasperated him. But his mind was made 
 up, and he was only waiting to put into execution the 
 plan he had long since decided on. 
 
 When he had been able to absent himself, and go pri- 
 vately to the cottage at Saint-Henri, he came to the con- 
 clusion that his niece was not close enough a prisoner. 
 She must be completely shut up if he wished to carry 
 out his intentions. The first guardian he had selected, 
 appeared to him too weak and accommodating. He had 
 heard that a young girl came almost daily to talk to 
 Blanche, and that made him particularly anxious. It was 
 then that he decided on entrusting the guardianship of 
 the cottage to a vigilant gaoler, who would allow no one 
 to enter it, and who would give him a faithful account 
 of the least incidents that happened. 
 
 Madame Lambert, the stiff-limbed, thin woman, the 
 convict-keeper, was admirably adapted for such a posi- 
 tion. She was an old maid, brought up with exaggerated 
 ideas of religious zeal, had the harsh character of narrow- 
 minded people and the unrelenting cruelty of those who 
 have never loved. She knew Blanche had given way to 
 the dictates of her heart and that made her all the harder, 
 all the more implacable, she whom all men disdained. 
 She rigorously performed the duty M. de Cazalis had 
 entrusted her with, watched over her prisoner with diabo- 
 lical cunning, surrounded her with absolute solitude and 
 dismissed all who approached too near. 
 
 The cottage thus became a sort of citadel in which she 
 entrenched herself, and where she had Blanche at her 
 mercy. Fine was pitilessly driven away : as soon as she 
 appeared on the hill Madame Lambert placed herself at 
 one of the windows and continued to spy her movements 
 until she withdrew ; so the flower-girl, in the end, was 
 obliged to give up her visits. Then poor Blanche almost 
 died of grief and despondency, for she felt herself throttled 
 by the coils her gaoler set about her, and which were 
 drawn tighter evcrv day. 
 
 Abbe Chastanier was the only visitor admitted, and 
 even when he came, Madame Lambert arranged to hear 
 what he said to his penitent.
 
 234 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 On that particular evening Blanche had obtained per- 
 mission from her guardian to take a short walk on the 
 sea-shore. She was in great uneasiness and suffered from 
 fits of giddiness which were calmed by the fresh air. The 
 two people continued to follow the cliff, the young woman 
 wondering how she could baffle this supervision which 
 interfered with her plans, the guardian glancing behind 
 each rock in fear that someone would suddenly rush out 
 and rob her of her prisoner. As they were about to 
 return, they suddenly saw a dark form advancing towards 
 them along the narrow path. 
 
 Night had completely set in. Madame Lambert was 
 greatly afraid, and was advancing rapidly in front when 
 she recognised Abbe Chastanier. The priest not having 
 found Blanche at the cottage had come to look for her 
 on the beach. 
 
 " Let us go in quick," said Madame Lambert, sharply. 
 " You will be more comfortable talking in the drawing- 
 room. The breeze is becoming fresh." 
 
 "We are very well here," murmured Blanche. "Let 
 us remain a little while longer." 
 
 And she nudged Abbe Chastanier so that he might 
 support her. 
 
 "Eh! yes," he said in his turn, "it is quite a spring 
 evening. The fresh air of the sea is beautiful, and will 
 do our dear invalid a deal of good." 
 
 Then he took the young woman's arm and added gaily : 
 
 " We'll walk along together, my dear child, like a couple 
 of lovers ! If you are afraid of catching cold, Madame 
 Lambert, pray go in. We'll rejoin you presently." 
 
 And he continued along the path beside the cliff, 
 leading Blanche, who was laughing at his adroit manoeuvre, 
 along with him. The guardian took very good care not 
 to go in ; for she would have preferred to run the risk 
 of catching twenty colds rather than lose sight of her 
 prisoner for a quarter of an hour. She therefore pro- 
 ceeded to follow the pair at a distance of ten paces, full 
 of anxiety, straining her ears to discover what they 
 said, and angry against the waves, the sound of which 
 prevented her hearing. She could listen at her ease in
 
 THE CONSPIRACY. 235 
 
 the cottage, either openly or hidden behind a door; but 
 there, on the rocks, she did not dare, she was unable to 
 exercise her calling of spy. 
 
 "How much I thank you," said Blanche to the priest r 
 in a sad and grateful tone, " for having helped me to- 
 procure a moment's conversation with you! My prison, 
 as you see, becomes narrower and narrower every day." 
 
 " Have hope, my dear child," answered Abbe Chastanier, 
 " you will soon be free, and you will then be able to act 
 according to your faith and heart." 
 
 " Oh ! I was not thinking of myself, they can do what 
 they please with my personality, without fear that I shall 
 ever have the least idea of revolting. Besides, you know 
 my resolution, your words have shown me the only road 
 I can follow now." 
 
 " It is not I, it is Providence that has brought you 
 peace and hope." 
 
 Blanche did not seem to understand, but continued 
 becoming animated little by little: 
 
 " I have sacrificed all my pleasure, and am pleased to 
 suffer, for I hope thus to obtain my pardon. At times 
 I would like to invent harder punishment to hasten my 
 penitence." 
 
 " Then, my child, why do you complain of your solitude ?" 
 inquired the abbe gently. 
 
 " It is not a question of myself, my father. If I alone 
 were threatened with imprisonment, perhaps for ever, I 
 would be resigned to my fate, but I am trembling for 
 the little creature I am about to bring into the world." 
 
 "What is there to fear?" 
 
 " I hardly know. If my uncle had not some plan he 
 would not shut me up like this. Look at all the pre- 
 cautions that are taken to isolate me, to prevent me 
 communicating, with you even. I am certain that at this 
 moment Madame Lambert is in despair." 
 
 " You exaggerate." 
 
 "No, you know what I say is true, and you are 
 endeavouring to dispel my anxiety. All this, you see, 
 strikes terror into me, and I fear for my child, I fear a 
 misfortune that I feel there, in the dark."
 
 236 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 She preserved a painful silence, and then suddenly 
 continued, in a broken voice: 
 
 "Will you help me to save my child?" 
 
 The priest was surprised and troubled at her cry. He 
 hesitated without daring to answer. 
 
 "Be calm," he said at length. "You know I am 
 devoted to you." 
 
 "I repeat," continued Blanche, "that I have made the 
 sacrifice of all my joy, but I wish my child to be happy." 
 
 "What can I do for you?" asked Abbe Chastanier, 
 moved by what she said. 
 
 Madame Lambert had approached little by little and 
 was treading almost on their heels. Blanche heard the sound 
 of her footsteps on the boulders and bending forward said 
 to the priest in a low voice : 
 
 " Request Fine to come here to-morrow at about six 
 o'clock in the evening and to pass beside me, without 
 Madame Lambert being able to recognise her." 
 
 The next day Blanche and her guardian were again 
 strolling along the cliff at sunset. During the daytime the 
 young woman had been complaining of a violent head- 
 ache and had passed the whole afternoon shut up in her 
 room. Then, towards evening, she had feigned giddiness 
 and complained of feeling sick, in order to take the air 
 beside the sea. 
 
 Madame Lambert who was full of distrust kept close 
 to her, determined that she would not allow the same 
 trick to be played her as on the preceding evening, 
 whilst Blanche, from time to time, looked anxiously 
 towards the Marseilles road. 
 
 As night closed in she saw in the distance a woman 
 "wrapped in a Provencal cloak, and with her face hidden 
 in a large calico hood, advancing from that direction. 
 At her quick, light step, she guessed it was the person 
 she was expecting. The woman came rapidly forward, 
 and, as she passed by, knocked up against Blanche, who 
 handed her a letter murmuring: 
 
 "Accomplish my wishes, I beseech you!" 
 Fine's sweet face appeared for a moment under the hood, 
 with a kind, consoling smile, full of promise of devotedness,
 
 M. DE CAZALIS HAS A PLAN. 237 
 
 and then the flower-girl continued on her way as 
 quickly as she had come. 
 
 Madame Lambert, thin and stiff, had neither seen nor 
 understood anything. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 M. DE CAZALIS HAS A PLAN. 
 
 IT was as Blanche had said, if her uncle had not 
 formed certain plans he would not have shut her up in this. 
 way. The desire to hide the young woman's condition 
 did not justify the excessive precautions that M. de Ca- 
 zalis was taking to isolate her, and keep her completely 
 in his power. The merciless part played by Madame 
 Lambert, the grave and severe attitude of the deputy,, 
 the solitary life she was made to lead, all warned the 
 unfortunate girl that she was threatened with some cruel 
 event which was being prepared in the dark. Maternal 
 instinct told her that it was not her they sought to strike, 
 but the infant that was still unborn. They were no doubt 
 awaiting this little creature's birth, and then something 
 terrible would take place which she could not foresee, but 
 the thought of which made her tremble. 
 
 The fear which troubled Blanche was exaggerated. The 
 solitude in which she lived caused her over-excitement 
 and gave her horrible hallucinations. M. de Cazalis was not 
 the sort of man to injure his reputation by martyrizing a 
 child. He merely wished to make Blanche's heir disap- 
 pear as promptly as possible. But here, in a few words, 
 is an account of the plan he had formed, along with the 
 reasons that urged him to act as he did. 
 
 Blanche at her father's death, was possessed of several 
 hundreds of thousands of francs. She was then ten years 
 old. She went to live with her uncle, who was appointed 
 her legal guardian and who, from that time, administered 
 her fortune. However, he did not make any great 
 inroad into her wealth ; but at the sight of so much gold 
 in his hands, he lost his head, cut a great dasli and spent
 
 238 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 almost all he possessed. When his niece ran away with 
 Philippe, he was in a dreadful fright of being called upon 
 to produce the accounts of his guardianship, for if this 
 fortune had been taken out of his control he would have 
 been reduced to absolute poverty, as he had been living 
 for several months entirely on his niece's money. 
 
 So long as the young girl remained with him, he knew 
 he had nothing to fear. He could do what he pleased 
 with her, bend her to his will like a piece of soft wax. 
 The child's weak character put him at ease. Such a doll 
 would never dare to claim her own. He was counting 
 on marrying her or placing her in a convent whilst giving 
 her the least money possible, but the escapade of the 
 two lovers had quite put him out of his reckoning. If 
 he had burst into a passion, hunted them down, taken 
 his niece violently back home, it was because he was afraid 
 -of a marriage between her and Philippe : he knew Philippe, 
 and he knew he was a man to make him give up the 
 last piece of gold. His interest was affected quite as 
 seriously as his pride. 
 
 While he was protesting aloud against a misalliance, 
 he shuddered as he confessed to himself in his mind, 
 that this misalliance would not merely be a stain on his 
 coat of arms, but that it would also make a terrible hole 
 in his purse, through which all his luxury and power 
 would disappear. 
 
 And now Blanche was to have an heir, and that heir 
 would be more exacting than his mother. All his calcu- 
 Jations were upset. He became merciless, insisted on 
 dragging Philippe to the pillory, sought to render him 
 infamous in order to cast some of the infamy on his 
 child, and wished to deprive the infant of his rights before 
 he even came into the world. . When he heard that Phi- 
 lippe had fled and had thus escaped the infamy in store 
 for him, his anxiety became absolute terror. He was ruined. 
 
 The struggle was becoming terrible. If he were com- 
 pelled to produce the accounts connected with his guardian- 
 ship, he would become literally penniless. Indeed, he would 
 feel extremely happy if he escaped so easily, at the cost 
 of poverty, for he was not sure that he had not made
 
 M. DE CAZALIS HAS A PLAN. 239 
 
 too wide and visible an inroad into Blanche's patrimony. 
 
 In the one case if he kept both his niece and her money 
 with him, he could continue to live in grand style and 
 plunder the young girl in a legal way; in the other, if 
 he were suddenly asked for a statement cf accounts, if 
 the capital placed in his hands were exacted in the child's 
 name, he would be obliged to ask for charity, in order 
 not to die of hunger. 
 
 It is easy to conceive with what energy he accepted 
 the battle and how eagerly he sought to triumph. 
 
 Blanche, for him, was nothing. At a simple look, on 
 merely raising the voice, she trembled and consented to 
 everything. But he shuddered at the thought of the child. 
 That little creature who had not yet seen the light of 
 day, made the all-powerful Cazalis turn pale. He caught 
 himself hoping that it would be still-born. He would 
 not have destroyed it, out of pride for his race, but he 
 prayed Providence to do the work. The poor little creature 
 would grow up, and some day, prompted by the Cayols, 
 might demand his mother's wealth. This thought brought 
 cold drops of perspiration to the deputy's forehead. The 
 Cayols were his great terror. If they ever became possessed 
 of the child they would rear it as an instrument of ven- 
 geance. Then he thought of all the misfortunes that would 
 fall upon his head : he would have to disgorge, hand over 
 a whole fortune to these people whom he would have 
 liked to crush ; and as for himself, he would, perhaps, have 
 to go begging along the roads. 
 
 Those were the reasons that had made him shut up 
 Blanche in the cottage on the sea-shore. He sought to 
 isolate her from the Cayols, to prevent them coming to 
 an understanding with her and stealing the child as soon 
 as it was born. All the precautions he was taking, were 
 in the view of obtaining full and entire possession of the 
 infant. If he imprisoned Blanche it was solely for the 
 purpose of imprisoning her babe. He had made up his 
 mind to be there at the child's birth for the purpose of 
 seizing it and preventing it being made the instrument of 
 his ruin. In the meantime, he had instructed Madame 
 Lambert to keep watch in the vicinity of the cottage and
 
 240 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 to see that no one penetrated within. He feared surprise. 
 
 He said to himself that he would only be in safety 
 when he had secured the babe. Sometimes, at the bottom 
 of his heart, he was almost pleased that his niece had 
 been guilty of an irreparable fault. If she had married, 
 he would only have succeeded with the utmost difficulty 
 in retaining a small part of her fortune. Now, it was 
 probable she would never marry; she would enter a convent 
 to weep over her shame, and he could keep all her 
 money with impunity. He tolerated Abbe Chastanier's 
 visits because he hoped the old priest would indicate 
 religion to Blanche as a refuge. He felt that this way 
 of getting rid of the unfortunate girl would certainly 
 succeed. 
 
 When once the mother was in a convent, he would 
 attend to the little one. His plan consisted in keeping 
 it near him, and bringing it up with care, so as to endea- 
 vour to set its mind, also, on religion. However, he could 
 not foresee the future. The only thing he wanted was 
 to have all the chances on his own side. In place of 
 immediate ruin he preferred the risk of a catastrophe in 
 the distance. His adopted son, if son it were, would grow 
 up under his eyes, and he would endeavour to get rid 
 of him in an upright way, either by persuading him to 
 take Holy Orders, or by getting him killed in warfare, after 
 having discovered a legal means to rob him of what 
 belonged to him. If it were a girl,, he would make her 
 take the veil. In any case, boy or girl, he must prevent 
 the child falling into the hands of the Cayols at any cost. 
 
 We now know the plan that M. de Cazalis had formed. 
 He came to see Blanche every morning, accompanied by 
 a doctor who gave him daily information as to her condition. 
 When she ventured to make a timid complaint as to the 
 way in which she was imprisoned, he flew into a passion, 
 spoke of the honour of the family, and made her crimson 
 by shouting out to her that she ought to bury herself in 
 a tomb of her own accord, to hide her shame from the 
 world. He wanted to finish with the business, for he was 
 anxious to return to Paris, where his Parliamentary duties 
 required his presence, it being the middle of the Session;
 
 THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY A WHITE RAG. 241 
 
 but he had made up his mind not to leave until he had 
 placed the new-born babe in sure hands. 
 
 Each day he made Madame Lambert give an exact 
 account of what had occurred during his absence and was 
 particular in asking her if she had seen anyone loitering 
 near the house. The guardian set his mind at ease, no 
 one had approached the place, and he began to think there 
 would be no contention for the child. 
 
 And so he was immensely delighted when he was 
 informed one morning, that the birth would in all probability 
 take place that same evening. 
 
 But Blanche had heard what had been said in an 
 undertone, and when her uncle and the doctor had left 
 her room, she dragged herself to the window and fastened 
 a piece of white rag to the shutter. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHICH TELLS OF THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY 
 A PIECE OF WHITE RAG. 
 
 To understand the events that are about to follow, it is 
 necessary to give a short description of the cottage on 
 the seashore. It was built in a rather peculiar way : it 
 had two doors, one in the front which gave access to the 
 rooms below, and the other at the back which led straight 
 from the ground to the rooms upstairs. The cottage was 
 built against the rock, so that the first floor, seen from the 
 country, appeared to be only a ground floor. 
 
 The room occupied by Blanche was upstairs to the left 
 of the staircase and had windows facing the sea. Fol- 
 lowing on to this room was a smaller one which served 
 as a dressing-room, and into this opened the door at 
 the back. This door had a rusty lock and had perhaps 
 not turned on its hinges for twcntv years. The key to it 
 being lost, it was never used. 
 
 When M. de Cazalis took the house, he had not thought 
 of troubling about this exit, which seemed closed for good. 
 
 Blanche, some days before being laid up, while looking 
 
 1 6
 
 242 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 for a pin she had dropped, was very much surprised to 
 come across a key hidden between the floor and the wall, 
 and her first thought was that it must belong to the door 
 in question. She was not mistaken : it turned in the lock, 
 and pulling the door towards her she was able to gaze 
 out on the country. She placed her discovery in safety, 
 and spoke to no one about it, being forewarned by a sort 
 of instinct, that she would in future have a means of 
 safety in her hands. 
 
 On the day she was taken ill she fastened a piece of 
 white rag to the window shutter, and then, after taking 
 the key from the bottom of a drawer where she had hidden 
 it, went back to bed and slipped it under the bolster. 
 
 As soon as M. de Cazalis heard that the baby would 
 be born that evening he resolved to stay in the house, 
 and not leave it until the child was in his possession. He 
 retained a doctor, sent for the midwife, and despatched 
 a messenger to Marseilles to fetch a wet-nurse whom he 
 had engaged some time previous, and who was a creature 
 of his own, on whose fidelity he could rely. 
 
 When these precautions had been taken he awaited 
 events. To pass the time, he went for a walk beside the 
 sea, feeling very anxious notwithstanding his busy frame 
 of mind, and thinking he would be lost if the infant escaped 
 him. He calmed himself, a little, by reflecting that such 
 a thing was impossible, as he would not leave Blanche's 
 door until the new-born babe had been taken away by the 
 wet-nurse. He walked for several hours along the beach 
 casting, from time to time, a glance at the windows of his 
 niece's room. Madame Lambert was to come and call 
 him as soon as all was over. Night closed in, and he 
 ended by seating himself among the boulders, watching 
 the shadows flitting across the cottage windows. 
 
 In the meanwhile poor Blanche was in agony, and at 
 one time doctor and midwife despaired of her life. She 
 had been, so weakened by sorrow, that she was hardly 
 able to bear up against the present physical trial. She 
 had a son, but she did not hear the poor little thing's 
 first cry: pale, insensible, and with the appearance of a 
 corpse, she was lying on her couch of pain. The infant
 
 THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY A WHITE RAG. 243 
 
 Avas placed beside her, the wet-nurse not having yet 
 arrived, and Madame Lambert ran to inform M. de Cazalis 
 that everything had ended well, and his niece was dying. 
 
 The deputy came in all haste, very much annoyed to 
 find that the wet-nurse was not there. He, however, 
 restrained himself, so as not to show his anxiety before 
 the doctor and midwife. At heart he cared very little 
 about his niece's sufferings, but in presence of her pale 
 exhausted form extended on the bed, he had to assume 
 a concerned and affectionate manner. Turning to the 
 doctor he inquired if there was still danger. 
 
 "Not at present," was the answer, "and I think I can 
 withdraw." 
 
 Then pointing to the midwife: 
 
 "Madame's presence will be sufficient, only I must 
 impress on you that the patient must be spared all worry and 
 excitement. Her life depends on it. I will come again 
 to-morrow." 
 
 The wet-nurse arrived just as M. de Cazalis was 
 seeing the doctor out. He returned with her into the 
 house, and severely upbraided her as they went upstairs 
 to Blanche's room. The wet-nurse excused herself as 
 best she could and the deputy gave her his final instruc- 
 tions. She was to take away the new-born child and 
 watch over him from hour to hour, with the greatest 
 A'igilance. The following morning she was to leave for the 
 village where she resided, and which was situated in an 
 out-of-the-way corner in the department of the Basses- 
 Alpes. He hoped they would not go and ferret out his 
 great nephew at the bottom of such a hole as that. 
 
 He found Madame Lambert and the midwife silently 
 bending over the patient's bed, but when he approached 
 to take the child, so as to give him to the nurse, he met 
 Blanche's eyes. They had just opened wide, and were 
 fixed upon him. He had the courage, however, to stretch 
 out his arm. 
 
 Then the young woman making a great effort succeeded 
 in sitting up in bed and pressed the child to her bosom. 
 
 "What do you want?" she said to M. de Cazalis in a 
 choking undertone.
 
 244 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 The deputy started back. 
 
 "The wet-nurse is here," he replied, hesitating. "You 
 know what was agreed. You must give her your child." 
 
 He had told her a few days before the event that the 
 honour of the family depended on Philippe's child being 
 sent away from the moment of its birth. She had shewn 
 herself as pliant as usual on hearing her uncle's brief 
 and cruel words. But she had hoped she would have 
 been able to keep the new-born babe with her at least 
 for twenty-four hours, for it was on that hope she had 
 based her plan for placing him out of harm's way. 
 
 When she heard M. de Cazalis insist on the child 
 being instantly handed over to the nurse, she imagined 
 all was lost. If they took him away at once, her plan 
 was upset, she had no time to put him beyond the 
 danger that she foresaw, with her motherly anxiety, 
 would be in store for him, and she became still paler 
 than before, if possible, as she pressed him to her bosom. 
 
 " Oh ! for mercy's sake ! " she exclaimed, " leave him 
 me until to-morrow morning." 
 
 She felt herself weak, and was afraid of showing cowar- 
 dice and obeying. 
 
 The deputy continued with a voice that he endeavoured 
 to keep calm, in order not to be overheard by the midwife : 
 
 " You are asking me what is impossible. Your son 
 must disappear for some time, if you do not wish to be 
 covered with shame." 
 
 "I will give him you to-morrow," pleaded Blanche, 
 shuddering. " Be kind, permit me to gaze on him and 
 love him until then. That cannot do you any harm, no 
 one will see him to-night in this room." 
 
 " It's much better to finish at once. Kiss him and 
 give him to the nurse." 
 
 " No ! I shall keep him. You are killing me, sir ! " 
 
 She uttered these last words in an heartrending tone 
 of voice. M. de Cazalis said no more, fearing to fly into 
 a passion : this unforeseen resistance surprised and alarmed 
 him. He was advancing to grasp the poor little creature 
 which the mother held folded in her arms, when the 
 midwife, who had been listening, took him aside and told
 
 THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY A WHITE RAG. 245 
 
 him she would not be answerable for his niece if he 
 persevered in this odious scene. He then saw that it 
 was necessary to give way. 
 
 "Very well! Keep your son," he exclaimed sharply. 
 "The wet-nurse will wait until to-morrow." 
 
 Blanche placed the babe beside her, then fell back on 
 the pillow, surprised and happy at her victory. A pink 
 tint overspread her cheeks, she shut her eyes feigning 
 sleep, and felt full of hope and joy. 
 
 Shortly afterwards Madame Lambert and the midwife 
 seeing her quiet, withdrew to take a little rest, and M. 
 de Cazalis remained for an instant alone with his niece, 
 who continued to keep her eyes shut. He looked at the 
 new-born babe and said to himself that this poor creature, 
 so weak and puny, was his most cruel enemy. As he 
 was at last about to leave the apartment he fancied he 
 heard a slight noise in the dressing-room. He opened 
 the door and looked, but seeing nothing he thought he 
 must have been mistaken. Then he made up his mind to 
 go downstairs, but with the intention of sitting up all 
 night, for in spite of himself, he felt secretly uneasy. If 
 he had given way to Blanche, it was because he could 
 not do otherwise. The infant ought already to have 
 been far away. However, he would get rid of him to-mor- 
 row, that was understood, and it was impossible for the 
 Cayols to come and take him between now and then. He 
 had put bolts on the front door himself. 
 
 As soon as Blanche was alone, she abruptly raised 
 herself in bed and listened attentively, for she also had 
 heard a slight noise coming from the dressing-room. She 
 rose with an effort, took the key hidden under the bolster 
 and staggered along, clutching hold of the articles of 
 furniture, towards the door at the back of the house. 
 This was an imprudence that might kill her. But she 
 seemed borne up by superhuman strength and advanced 
 along the tile-flooring without reflecting that she was risking 
 her life. She simply said to herself that she was saving 
 her son. 
 
 There was a scratching at the old front door and that 
 was the noise which had attracted the attention of M. de
 
 246 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Cazalis. Blanche, who was giddy, managed to get the 
 key into the lock, after having nearly fainted more than- 
 ten times, and turn it. The door opened and Fine entered. 
 
 The note Blanche had given her in secret a few days 
 before, contained these few sentences : " I have need of your 
 affection and devotedness. I know what your heart is 
 like, and I come to you as to a friend. When I require 
 your assistance I will fasten a white rag to my window 
 shutter. I shall expect you at about one o'clock on the 
 following morning. Keep at the old front door at the 
 back of the house and scratch against it softly to apprise 
 me of your presence. You will be my good angel." 
 
 When Fine had perused this note she understood that 
 it referred to Philippe's child. She consulted Marius who 
 advised her to comply precisely with the instructions 
 Blanche gave. The next morning, the flower-girl placed 
 a lad on the beach at about a hundred yards from the 
 cottage, with orders to come and tell her as soon as ever 
 he perceived the signal agreed upon. The lad remained 
 at his post for nearly a week without seeing anything. At 
 last, one morning, he caught sight of the white rag and ran 
 in all haste to Marseilles. 
 
 In the evening Fine and Marius came in a cabriolet to 
 Saint-Henri. They left the vehicle in the village and 
 both walked towards the rocks in the midst of which stood 
 the cottage. He remained in hiding at a few steps from 
 the old front door, while she scratched at it, at the ap- 
 pointed hour. 
 
 Blanche barely had time to let her in, before falling into 
 her arms in a fainting fit. The flower-girl promptly carried 
 her to her bed, covered up her shivering limbs, and then 
 hastened to bolt the door on the landing so that no one 
 might surprise them. After that, she threw off her long 
 cloak and gave all her attention to the invalid whose eyes- 
 remained closed. 
 
 Blanche, little by little, recovered consciousness. As 
 soon as she opened her eyes and recognised Fine 
 beside her, she raised herself up, and with her heart full 
 of joy and hope, fell on the girl's neck and wept tears of 
 happiness.
 
 THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY A WHITE RAG. 247 
 
 For a few moments neither was able to speak, but 
 Fine, catching sight of the baby, took it up and kissed 
 it. Then a stifled cry escaped Blanche's lips. 
 
 " You'll love him as if you were his mother, won't you?" 
 she asked. 
 
 The flower-girl gazed on the infant with that tender 
 look of girls who are in love and dream of maternity. 
 While contemplating Philippe's son, she thought with a 
 blush of Marius, and said to herself: 
 
 "I shall have a child like that." Then she placed the 
 babe on the bed and sat down beside Blanche. 
 
 " Listen," the latter said, rapidly, " we have very little 
 time before us. They may come upstairs and surprise 
 us at any moment. You are quite devoted to me, are 
 you not ? " 
 
 Fine bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. 
 
 " I love you as a sister," she answered. 
 
 " I know it, and it is for that reason that I confide in 
 you. I am going to give you the most sacred legacy 
 that any woman can leave behind her." 
 
 " But you are not dead ! " 
 
 " Yes, I am dead ! In a few days, when I am well 
 again, I shall belong to the Almighty. Do not interrupt 
 me. I quit this world, and, before leaving it, I desire to 
 give my child a mother, for he will soon have none, and 
 I have thought of you." 
 
 And Blanche gave Fine a warm pressure of the hand. 
 
 "You have done well," said the flower-girl, calmly. 
 " You know I always considered that your child would 
 be, in a sort of way, mine." 
 
 " I need not tell you to love him," said the invalid 
 with an effort. " Love him as you know how to love, 
 with all your heart; love him for me and for Philippe, 
 and endeavour to let him have a happier life than that 
 of his parents." 
 
 She was choking with sobs, but after a few moments 
 continued : 
 
 " Although I have only to ask you, for you to love 
 my child, I must implore you with joined hands to 
 watch over him vigilantly. From to-morrow, hide him
 
 248 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 somewhere, in some out-of-the way corner; endeavour to 
 prevent anyone suspecting the secret of his birth; in a 
 word, swear to me that you will protect him against 
 everyone and keep him always near you as a sacred trust. " 
 
 As she spoke she became excited and Fine had to 
 make her a sign imploring her to lower her voice. 
 
 "Do you fear foul play?" inquired the flower-girl 
 softly. 
 
 " I know not what I fear. It seems to me that my 
 uncle hates this child, and I hand him over to you so 
 that he may not remain in his power. As I am unable 
 to be there to watch over him I desire to leave him to 
 an honest person who will make a man of him. Besides 
 if, even, I were not going to quit this world, I would 
 refuse to keep him with me, because I am weak and 
 cowardly, and would not know how to defend him." 
 
 " Defend him against whom ? " 
 
 " I know not. I shudder, that is all. My uncle is 
 implacable. But do not let us speak of that. I give you 
 my child and in future he will be in safety. I can now 
 go away in tranquillity of mind. I was so afraid not to 
 see you to-night and not to be able to hand you this 
 poor little mite ! " 
 
 There was a moment's silence and Fine resumed in a 
 hesitating voice: 
 
 " As you are giving me your last instructions, I may, 
 and, indeed, I ought to put a question to you. I know 
 you will not misinterpret my intentions. I think you 
 possess a large fortune which M. de Cazalis is adminis- 
 tering ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Blanche, "but I have never troubled 
 about the money." 
 
 " Your son requires nothing now, and so long as he 
 remains with us, he may be poor but we will bestow a 
 wealth of tenderness and happiness on him. Still, some 
 day, a fortune, in his hands, may be a powerful lever. 
 You do not intend to deprive him of your estate ? " 
 
 " I told you I was leaving the world, I shall be like 
 one who is dead." 
 
 " That is another reason for assuring his future. Ask
 
 THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY A WHITE RAG. 249 
 
 M. de Cazalis for a statement of his account. Set your 
 affairs in order before you disappear." 
 
 Blanche shuddered. 
 
 "Oh! I shall never dare do that," she murmured. 
 "You have no idea of the terrible power my uncle ex- 
 ercises over me : a mere look crushes me. No, I cannot 
 ask him for a statement." 
 
 " However, your son's interests require it." 
 
 "No, I tell you, I have not the courage." 
 
 Fine for an instant was silent and embarrassed. Her 
 duty urged her to insist, she would have liked to over- 
 come Blanche's cowardly attitude. 
 
 "As you will not act yourself," she continued at last, 
 "allow others to watch over the interests of this poor little 
 creature. You make no objection to the fortune, which 
 you now appear to abandon, being, one of these days, 
 claimed on his behalf? " 
 
 "You are cruel," answered the young mother, with 
 tears in her eyes, " you make me feel my weakness and 
 powerlessness to act. You know that I give you all 
 authority." 
 
 " Then nothing is lost. Do not put your name to any 
 document, do not sign away a single inch of your pro- 
 perty. And, moreover, as soon as you are better, let me 
 have the certificates establishing your son's identity. In 
 that way we shall be strong, and able to speak with 
 authority when the time comes." 
 
 Blanche seemed overcome with these questions of money. 
 Had she been possessed of the least energy, she would 
 not have withdrawn from the struggle, she would have 
 lived for her child, protected him, herself, and defended 
 his interests. The (lower-girl guessed the tenor of her 
 reflections and added in a lower voice : 
 
 " If I have caused you pain, if I have put all these 
 questions to you, it is because there is a man who has 
 claims on this child, and who one of these days will him- 
 self watch over his interests. I shall then want to give 
 him an account of my mission and instruct him as to 
 how he must proceed in order to complete it." 
 
 Blanche burst out sobbing:
 
 250 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " I have never spoken to you of Philippe," she exclaimed, 
 "because I ought to think of him no more. He left 
 within me a love that has devoured me and brought me 
 to repentance. Tell him I have loved him to the point 
 of quitting this world at the age of seventeen, and tell 
 him I entreat him to labour for the welfare of our son. 
 Whatever he does will have my approval." 
 
 Just at that moment Fine heard the sound of footsteps 
 on the stairs. She rose, hurriedly wrapped her cloak 
 around her and took the child which the weeping mother 
 was holding out to her, and passionately kissing again 
 and again. This farewell was full of mute despair and 
 anxious haste. 
 
 Blanche got out of bed to accompany Fine and close 
 the door behind her. On the threshold she gave the little 
 one a last kiss on the forehead. Then, she had only 
 just time to pull back the bolt of her bedroom door and 
 get into bed again. Her uncle entered softly. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN WHICH M. DE CAZALIS RUNS THE RISK OF 
 
 LOSING HIS HEAD WHILE LOSING HIS 
 
 GREAT NEPHEW. 
 
 M. DE CAZALIS had fallen half asleep downstairs in a 
 sitting-room under Blanche's bedroom. In this drowsy 
 state, it had several times seemed to him that he heard 
 people walking about overhead. A more distinct sound 
 ended by awakening him with a start. He stood up, 
 full of distrust, and went to make sure whether he had 
 been dreaming or not. But all he feared was that Blanche 
 might have risen to write a letter and thus inform her 
 friends outside of what had occurred. It never entered 
 his head that someone could have penetrated within the 
 house, for he had kept an eye on the front door like a 
 watch-dog. 
 
 He went upstairs determined to see what his niece was 
 doing. As he heard nothing moving, he gently pushed the 
 door open and cast a look round the room. By the pale
 
 M. DE CAZALTS LOSES HIS GREAT NEPHEW. 251 
 
 glimmer of the night-light, he perceived Blanche with 
 her eyes closed, and her face half hidden by the bed- 
 clothes, apparently in a heavy sleep. Encouraged by the 
 silence, he resolved to be quite sure by making a minute 
 inspection of the apartments ; he first of all searched the 
 dressing-room and found nothing suspicious; he returned 
 to the bedroom and there was nothing there. He was 
 already smiling at his childish alarm, when a thought 
 flashed across his mind and he suppressed an exclama- 
 tion. He had not seen the child. 
 
 Although he had already peered into every corner he 
 renewed his search. He brutally shook the bed without 
 Blanche opening her eyes, and it did not even occur to 
 him from this circumstance that she was feigning slumber. 
 His mind was a prey to the most excruciating agony, and 
 in despair he ended by moving round like a wild beast, 
 having but one idea, that of finding the new-born babe 
 at any cost. In his anxiety he stooped down and looked 
 under the articles of furniture, imagining his niece had 
 hidden her son somewhere, to make him afraid and drive 
 him mad. For nearly a quarter of an hour he ferreted 
 about in a fury, returning to the same spot ten times over, 
 unable to believe the dreadful truth. 
 
 When he was tired, when he had acquired the certitude 
 that the child was neither in the bedroom nor dressing- 
 room, he went and stood before the bed where Blanche 
 was lying exhausted and motionless. He gazed in a 
 stupid manner round the room, where the little one had 
 been when he had last left his niece, and repeated methodi- 
 cally: "He was there and is there no longer." These 
 words found a painful echo in his brain. 
 
 At first he did not think of seeking a solution to this 
 strange disappearance. He saw onlv the fart, and his 
 fright showed him in a flash, all the consequences of 
 that fact. 
 
 All his calculations were baffled. Blanche's heir was 
 no longer in his hands, and he would be compelled, some 
 day or other, to give him a statement as to what he had 
 clone with his mother's money. That meant shame and 
 misery; it would be ascertained that he had already made
 
 252 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 an inroad into his niece's fortune and they would take 
 away from him the riches which alone upheld his power. 
 This frightful blow was the forerunner of a series of 
 reprisals. He had no doubt as to the hand that had 
 dealt it, he recognised a vengeance of the Cayols, and he 
 was in terror at the thought that these people had now 
 his honour at their command. He saw that he was at 
 their mercy, and that they could inflict most terrible 
 chastisement on him for his pride. 
 
 What irritated him above all was failing at the last 
 moment. A few hours longer and Philippe's son would 
 have been placed beyond reach of the Cayols. He felt 
 that if he had not given way to Blanche's tears the child 
 would already have been far away. This thought re- 
 minded him of all the precautions he had taken, and he 
 said to himself that a clever plan had never so miserably 
 failed. Little by little he became angry, and gave way to 
 blind irritability at seeing himself duped in this cruel way. 
 
 Then he tried to understand how the child had been 
 carried off and this mental investigation increased his anger. 
 He understood that his niece must have had a hand in 
 the conspiracy, and had half a mind to beat her. 
 
 " What have you done with him ? " he inquired, in a gruff 
 voice. 
 
 Blanche had been trembling between the sheets ever 
 since her uncle had entered the room. She kept her eyes 
 obstinately closed in order that she might not see him, 
 and also to delay the scene she foresaw was coming. She 
 listened with terror to the sound of his footsteps, she 
 followed him in his fruitless search, and in a measure as 
 the crisis drew nearer, she trembled more violently and 
 became still more icy cold. When he came and stood 
 beside the bed, and examined her, motionless, dumb with 
 stupor, she imagined he was reflecting on the means of 
 putting an end to her existence. His loud voice made 
 her open her eyes; but her throat was dry, thick with 
 agony, and she could not answer. 
 
 "What have you done with the child?" M. dc Cazalis 
 asked her again in a stifled voice. 
 
 She stammered, but was unable to pronounce a single
 
 M. DE CAZALIS LOSES HIS GREAT NEPHEW. 253 
 
 word. Then her uncle accused and reviled her with 
 brutal rage. 
 
 "You are not of my blood," he exclaimed, "I disown 
 you. I ought to have left you in the hands of that black- 
 guard who carried you off. You are a worthy companion 
 for him. What ! You go in league with our enemies, you 
 distrust me and prefer to confide your child to that family 
 of tatterdemalions ! Don't deny it. I see it all. Look 
 here ! You are a vile creature. After having dishonoured 
 our name, you do not flinch from placing us at the mercy 
 of your lover. Oh ! I was wrong. I ought to have seen 
 that you had a filthy heart and should not have meddled 
 with this dirty business. I hope they'll make a rascal of 
 your son, a scoundrel like themselves, a beggar who'll 
 come one of these days begging at our door and whom 
 I'll drive away." 
 
 He spoke thus for a quarter of an hour, a prey to the 
 fury that blinded him and which prevented him perceiving 
 the stupidity of his behaviour. He showed no respect for 
 anything, drenched his niece with foulness, wounded her 
 so deeply that she rose up, trembling, powerful with courage 
 in her indignation and grief. If he had contented himself 
 with being imperious and cold, she would have shewn 
 weakness and have given him other arms against her ; but 
 as he was coarse, she became strong, and answered him 
 firmly : 
 
 " You have guessed aright, sir, I have handed my son 
 to those to whom he belongs. I am not obliged to give 
 you the reasons that prompted me in my conduct, and I 
 tell you that at this moment you are outstepping any 
 rights you may have over me. However, you know I 
 have come to a resolution: as soon as I have recovered 
 I shall take the veil, we shall be strangers to each other. 
 Cease, then, reviling me." 
 
 " But why would you not leave me this child whom I 
 would have loved as a son? " continued her uncle, who 
 with difficulty restrained himself. 
 
 "I acted according to the dictates of my heart," she 
 continued. "Do not question me, I cannot answer you. 
 I am willing to forget your abuse, and to thank you for
 
 254 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 having watched over my childhood. That is all I can do. 
 You have nearly killed me, now leave me." 
 
 M. de Cazalis understood that he had gone too far. He 
 was afraid that his niece might guess the reason of his 
 anger. This thought troubled him and suddenly calmed 
 his irritation. He could not, however, resist speaking to 
 her on a dangerous subject. 
 
 " There are accounts between us," he stammered, "which 
 must be settled." 
 
 "Do not let us talk of that," Blanche answered excitedly. 
 <( I have neither the strength nor the inclination to busy 
 myself with such matters. As I have told you, I am 
 dead to the world. I shall require nothing in the future. 
 As to my son, he will apply to you later on, and set forth 
 his claims if he chooses to do so. I have left his interests 
 in honest hands. Only I must warn you that those of 
 whom you spoke so brutally a little while ago, are decided 
 on acting, in case you oppose my wishes. Now for mercy's 
 sake leave me." 
 
 Blanche fell back on the pillow satisfied at having 
 conquered, and went to sleep peacefully. 
 
 M. de Cazalis hesitated for a moment and then, finding 
 nothing to add, withdrew. The misfortune that had just 
 happened was irreparable, but he still preferred peril in 
 the distance to an immediate explanation. Children do 
 not grow up in a day, and he calmed his feelings of 
 uneasiness, with the thought that he would have plenty 
 of time to set his house in ord-er. Later on, when the 
 mother had taken the veil, he could institute a search for 
 the son and obtain possession of him. He knew Philippe 
 had fled to Italy, and he concluded from that that the 
 new-born babe had been handed to the fugitive's brother. 
 It was, therefore, against Marius that he thought of direct- 
 ing his operations. 
 
 In the meanwhile he went to Paris to fulfil his duties 
 as deputy. He thus avoided acting rashly and could 
 consider, at leisure, the plan he proposed to pursue.
 
 BLANCHE BIDS FAREWELL TO THE WORLD. 255 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH BLANCHE BIDS FAREWELL TO THE 
 WORLD. 
 
 BLANCHE was three weeks in bed between life and death. 
 The great strain her nerves had undergone on the evening 
 her child was born, brought on a fever which nearly 
 carried her off. During these three weeks of agony Abbe 
 Chastanier and Fine were at her bedside. 
 
 M. de Cazalis on leaving, had dismissed Madame Lambert 
 who was henceforth useless, and the cottage was once 
 more open to the flower-girl. There was no guardian to 
 watch the invalid, her uncle having been contented to 
 place her in the hands of the old priest, in the sincere 
 hope that on his return to Marseilles, he would find her 
 buried in some convent. 
 
 Blanche, little by little recovered. The tender and 
 devoted care of which she was made the object, the bitter, 
 healthy sea breeze that came in freely at her windows, 
 obliged her to live in spite of her secret desire to die, 
 and thus leave the world where she had already suffered 
 so much pain. When the doctor told her she was saved, 
 she turned her great, sad, invalid's eyes towards Fine, and 
 said to her with a feeble smile : 
 
 "I should have been so comfortable in the earth! But 
 it was not to be. I must continue suffering." 
 
 "Please not to go on like that!" exclaimed the young 
 girl. " The dead feel cold in the earth, you may be sure ! 
 Love, do good, and you will have a long life of happiness 
 before you ! " 
 
 And she passionately kissed Mademoiselle dc Cazalis, 
 who answered in a softer tone : 
 
 " You are right, I forgot that I could work to lessen 
 the misery of the unfortunate, and thus secure some com- 
 fort for myself." 
 
 The period of convalescence was not long. Blanche 
 was soon able to get up and drag herself to the window. 
 There she passed her time in a consoling contemplation
 
 256 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 of the great sea which spread out in its apparent infinity 
 before her. All invalids should go and get cured beside 
 the blue waters of the Mediterranean, for its calm immensity 
 has a tranquil majesty about it that appeases pain. 
 
 It was on a clear morning, beside the open window, 
 with her eyes lost on the bluish horizon, that Blanche 
 spoke out plainly to Abbe Chastanier of her firm intention 
 to take the veil. 
 
 "My father," she said, "I am gaining strength every 
 day, and, as the life of this world is not suitable for me, 
 I desire, as soon as I am well, that my first steps may 
 take me to God." 
 
 "My daughter," answered the priest, "this decision is 
 a grave one. Before binding yourself with everlasting 
 bonds, I ought to remind you of the good things you are 
 leaving " 
 
 "It is useless," interrupted the young woman, excitedly, 
 "my resolution is irrevocable. You are familiar with all 
 the reasons that urge me to affiance myself to Heaven. 
 You, yourself, have pointed divine love out to me as the only 
 refuge against the human love by which I have been 
 crushed. Do not treat me as a child, I beg of you : look 
 on me as a woman who has suffered a great deal and 
 desires to atone for her cowardice. Confess it, my father, 
 there are no earthly advantages comparable to the tran- 
 quillity of one's spirit, and, if I succeed in tasting the 
 joys of pardon, I shall not regret the mundane satisfaction 
 to which I renounce so willingly. Do not prevent me 
 going to God." 
 
 Abbe Chastanier bowed his head. Blanche spoke in such 
 a deep and troubled voice that he understood heavenly 
 grace had touched this poor child, and that it would be 
 wrong to deprive her of the sweets of abnegation. 
 
 " I did not wish to raise a discussion as to my resolu- 
 tion," continued the convalescent, in a calmer voice. " I 
 desired to consult you as to the religious order I ought 
 to choose. As I told you, I feel strong, and in a week 
 I must leave this beach, every rock on which, reminds me 
 of my short life of grief and passion." 
 
 " I have already reflected on the choice you might
 
 BLANCHE BIDS FAREWELL TO THE WORLD. 257 
 
 make," answered the priest, "and I have thought of the 
 Carmelite order. 
 
 " Are not the Carmelites cloistered ? " 
 
 " Yes, they lead a contemplative life, they kneel to 
 God and implore him to pardon the world. They are 
 the daughters of ecstasy. Your place is among them. 
 You are weak, you need to forget, to place an impene- 
 trable barrier between you and your youth. I advise you 
 to shut yourself up in the innermost recesses of the 
 cloister, far from mankind, and to live in earnest prayer 
 full of forgiveness and celestial peace." 
 
 Blanche gazed at the great sea. The priest's words 
 had brought tears to her eyes. After a silence she mur- 
 mured, as if speaking to herself: 
 
 " No, no, it would be cowardice to seek for calm in 
 that way, to slumber in ecstasy. It would be a sort of 
 divine egotism and I will have none of it. I wish to earn 
 my pardon by working with my hands and heart for the 
 good of the unfortunate. If I cannot watch over my 
 child, I will watch over those children of poor mothers who 
 are without bread. I feel that at such a sacrifice only, 
 shall I be happy." 
 
 There was another silence ; then taking the abbe's hand 
 and gazing in his face, she added : 
 
 " My father can you procure my admission among the 
 sisters of Saint Vincent de Paul, those whom they term 
 the sisters of the poor ? " 
 
 Abbe Chastanier protested, saying she was too delicate, 
 that she would not be able to stand up against the fatigue 
 that these saintly creatures endure in the hospitals, orphan- 
 ages, everywhere where there are services to be rendered 
 to the suffering and forlorn. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed ! " exclaimed Blanche, in a transport 
 of self-sacrifice, "I shall be strong in order to earn my 
 forgiveness. I can only accept the chalice of labour. If 
 I do not make myself useful I shall never forget. I have 
 a last request to make to you : let me be placed in an 
 orphanage; I shall fancy mvsclf the mother of all those 
 little creatures entrusted to my care, I will cherish them 
 as I would have mv own child."
 
 258 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 She wept; she spoke with such transports of affection 
 that Abbe Chastanier was obliged to give way. He pro- 
 mised to take the necessary steps, and a few days later 
 he announced to Blanche that her wishes would be realized. 
 Besides, he considered the young woman's decision very 
 natural: her spirit which was full of blind devotion, had 
 been formed to understand extreme abnegation. He wrote 
 to M. de Cazalis who answered him in terms of perfect 
 indifference, that his niece was free, and that whatever 
 she decided on would be satisfactory. At the bottom of 
 his heart, he was delighted to see her enter a poor and 
 modest Order that was not so rapacious for dowries as 
 some of the others. 
 
 On the evening of the day preceding that on which 
 Mademoiselle de Cazalis was to leave the cottage, she 
 appeared quite uneasy and embarrassed in Abbe Chas- 
 tanier's presence. Fine, who was there, pressed her with 
 questions as to the cause of this sudden sadness. She ended 
 by falling on her knees before the priest and saying to 
 him in a trembling voice : 
 
 " My father, I am not yet dead to the pleasures of this 
 world. I should like to see my son for the last time, 
 before belonging entirely to God." 
 
 The abbe hastened to raise her from the ground. 
 
 " Go," he answered her, " go where your heart calls 
 you, and learn that you do not offend Heaven by giving 
 way to your tenderness. Heaven loves those who love. 
 That is all the Christian doctrine." 
 
 Blanche who was quite troubled, hastened to get ready. 
 Fine was to take her to her child and both of them soon 
 went out. From the day the infant had been born, they 
 had both avoided speaking of the poor little creature. 
 The flower-girl had simply set the young mother's mind 
 easy by saying he was in safety, and well, and had all 
 possible care. 
 
 When Fine and Marius found themselves in possession 
 of the new-born babe, they returned in the cabriolet 
 to Marseilles. The next morning they played a most 
 audacious game by taking the child to Saint Barnabe, 
 and giving him to the wife of the gardener Ayasse,
 
 BLANCHE BIDS FAREWELL TO THE WORLD. 259 
 
 thinking that M. de Cazalis would never seek him there. 
 
 It was to Saint Barnabe, then, that Fine took Blanche. 
 When the latter caught sight of the gardener's cottage, 
 with the great mulberry trees spreading their branches 
 before the entrance ; when she saw the stone bench on 
 which she had been seated with Philippe, all the past 
 flew back to her memory, and she burst out sobbing. 
 
 Barely a year had gone by, and yet it seemed as if 
 centuries of suffering separated the hour of her first love 
 from the present. She could still see herself hanging 
 round her lover's neck, without a care and hoping for a 
 future full of happiness. And, at the same time, she saw 
 herself disconsolate, her heart bleeding, so broken that 
 she was on the point of renouncing the pleasures of her 
 eighteen summers. She was choking with intense bitterness 
 when she reflected that a few months had sufficed to 
 take her from those hopes of happiness which are burning 
 in the hearts of all young girls to the dark thoughts of 
 remorse which weigh on the minds of penitents. 
 
 Blanche had come to a standstill before the gardener's 
 door, trembling with emotion, not daring to enter, fearing 
 to meet Philippe's ghost in this cottage where he 
 had fondled her. Fine, who perceived her trouble, dis- 
 pelled her fright and calmed the fever of her memory by 
 calmly saying to her : 
 
 "Come, go in. You will find your son there." 
 
 Blanche darted into the house. Her son she thought, 
 -would defend her against the past. As soon as she had 
 taken three steps in the first room, which was spacious, 
 countrified, and full of smoke, she found herself before a 
 cradle. She bent over the infant who was sleeping in it 
 and contemplated him for a long time without awakening 
 him. The gardener's wife sealed near the door, was 
 knitting a stocking and singing a sweet slow Provencal 
 air, in an undertone. 
 
 Blanche kissed the babe's forehead in the twilight. 
 She wept, and her tears awoke the child, who put his 
 little arms forward with a vague complaint. The mother 
 felt her heart fail her. Did not her duty call her to this 
 cradle ? Had she the right to take refuge in the bosom
 
 260 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 of God ? But she was afraid of giving way to a yearning 
 she had not avowed, to mad hopes. Then she said to 
 herself that she had sinned and would be punished; she 
 thought she heard a voice crying to her : " Your punish- 
 ment will be, to be deprived of the caresses of your 
 .child ! " And she ran away sobbing, after having covered 
 the face of the little creature she was to see no more,, 
 with kisses. 
 
 Henceforth, the young woman was dead to all love,, 
 but that of God; she had just rent in twain the last link 
 that attached her to the world. This final crisis freed her 
 of her own flesh and blood. She became all spirit. 
 
 On returning to Marseilles she handed Fine the 
 documents establishing the identity of her son, and the 
 following day left for a small town in the department of 
 the Var, where she entered an orphanage in accordance 
 with the wish she had expressed. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 A SPECTRE. 
 
 Two years had passed. In the first months of them 
 Marius married Fine and took a small flat on the Cours 
 Bonaparte. M. Martelly, who put his signature to the 
 marriage contract, endowed the bridegroom by taking him 
 into his business ; he was no longer a clerk, but a partner 
 who brought his intelligence and zeal with him in lieu of 
 capital. Fine, on her side, left her kiosk on the Cours 
 Saint Louis, so as to be able to give her whole attention 
 to her household ; but as she wished to continue earning 
 her living she made artificial flowers in her spare moments, 
 and was so nimble with her fingers that her work looked 
 almost natural. Sometimes, however, when people com- 
 plimented her on her ability, she sighed, thought with 
 regret of her fresh, sweet-smelling nosegays of other days, 
 and answered : 
 
 "Ah! but if you saw the roses of the good God!" 
 These two years were twenty-four months of peaceful 
 happiness. The young household lived liked birds in a
 
 A SPECTRE. 261 
 
 warm, secluded nest of moss. Days followed days, one 
 as happy as the other, full of delightful monotony, and 
 the pair would have liked this sort of life to go on for 
 ever, each hour bringing back to them the same kisses 
 and the same joys. In the morning Marius left for his 
 office; Fine placed herself before her small table twisting 
 the stalks, crumpling the petals and deftly producing 
 delicate muslin flowers with her agile fingers. Then of an 
 evening they both went out for a walk along the noisy 
 streets, and reached the sea-shore near Endoume. They 
 had discovered a corner among the rocks there, where 
 they seated themselves alone, facing the blue immensity; 
 night set in, and they gazed with emotion at the great 
 sea which had betrothed them at Saint Henri, in the old 
 days. It was thus they came to thank it, and to seek in 
 its deep voice an air suitable for their love. When they 
 returned the bonds of their affection were drawn even 
 closer than before. 
 
 Every Sunday they had a day in the country which 
 was spent at Saint Barnabe, setting out in the early 
 morning and returning late at night. The visit they paid 
 to the child of Blanche and Philippe, was a sort of pil- 
 grimage for them; but, apart from that, they enjoyed them- 
 selves there under the mulberry trees at the door. The 
 warm country air filled them with lively gaiety, they had 
 -enormous appetites and recovered all the turbulency of 
 youth. Whilst he talked to the gardener she gambolled 
 on the floor with the baby, amid peals of laughter and all 
 sorts of charming foolishness. 
 
 In accordance with the desire expressed by Blanche, 
 they had acted as godfather and godmother to her son 
 and had given him the name of Joseph. When Joseph 
 -called the young woman: "Mamma", she sighed and 
 clasped him in her arms for she loved him as if she had 
 really been his mother. 
 
 Joseph was growing up, charming and refined, like a 
 child of love. He could already walk alone, and lisp a 
 few words in that delightful prating of the baby age. For 
 the moment, Marius and Fine confined themselves to 
 loving him fondly, later on they would sec to making a
 
 262 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 man of him, they said, and to assuring him the position 
 to which he was entitled. But the young household were 
 not so wrapped up in their own enjoyment as to forget 
 the fugitive, that poor Philippe who was living alone and 
 disconsolate in Italy. His brother had been taking active 
 steps to obtain his pardon so that he might return to 
 Marseilles and begin life again, a life of work. Unfortu- 
 nately the obstacles were numerous, and he encountered 
 a stubborn resistance that put his most energetic efforts 
 to naught. However, he did not despair of success, and 
 felt, even, sure, that one day or other, he would attain 
 his end. 
 
 In the meantime he confined himself to exchanging a 
 few letters with Philippe, urging him to be courageous, and 
 above all not to give way to his craving to return to 
 France. If he were guilty of that imprudence all might 
 be lost. Philippe answered that he was at the end of his 
 tether and was dying of weariness. This despair and 
 impatience alarmed Marius who went so far as to invent 
 untruths to keep the fugitive in exile. He promised him 
 he would have his pardon in a month, then when the 
 month was at an end, he assured him it would certainly 
 be for the following month, and for more than a year he 
 had in this way made him take patience. 
 
 One Sunday evening, just as Fine and Marius had 
 returned from Saint Barnabe, their neighbours informed 
 them that a man had called to see them several times in 
 the course of the afternoon. As they were retiring for 
 the night, after having vainly endeavoured to think who 
 this strange visitor could be, they heard a slight knock 
 at their door. Marius, who opened it, was stupefied. 
 
 " What, you ! " he exclaimed in despair. 
 
 Fine hastened to join him, and recognised Philippe 
 who, after having embraced them both, answered : 
 
 " Yes, it is I, I should have died over there. I was 
 obliged to return at any price." 
 
 " What folly ! " continued Marius, quite upset. " I was 
 certain of your pardon. But now I will not answer for 
 anything." 
 
 "Go along with you! I will keep in hiding until you
 
 A SPECTRE. 263 
 
 have succeeded. I could not live away from you, from 
 my child any longer. I was absolutely ill." 
 
 " But why not have advised me ? I would have taken 
 some precautions'." 
 
 "Ah! But if I had told you of my intention, you 
 would have persuaded me not to return to Marseilles. 
 I have done a headstrong thing, but you who are a 
 sensible man, will repair everything;" and, turning to Fine, 
 he said eagerly : 
 
 "How is my little Joseph?" 
 
 Then the danger the fugitive ran was forgotten. After 
 the surprise and dissatisfaction of the first few moments 
 came the unbosoming of their hearts, a long affectionate 
 conversation which was prolonged until three o'clock in 
 the morning. Philippe related his misfortunes and sufferings 
 in exile. Here and there he had given French lessons 
 for a livelihood, avoiding staying long in any one place, 
 and living alone and unknown. 
 
 When he had related in detail all he had gone through, 
 his brother, who was deeply moved, avoided reproaching 
 him with his return; on the contrary, he racked his brain 
 to find a means of hiding him at Marseilles, so that he 
 could await his pardon and be near his child. 
 
 Marius, first of all, insisted on Philippe being shaved, 
 a performance that completely changed the young man's 
 appearance. Then he made him dress in a coarse suit 
 of clothes, and found a place for him as stevedore with 
 Cadet, his wife's brother, who had succeeded Sauvairc. 
 
 It was understood that Cadet would allow Philippe to 
 loiter about the port, without making him do any work. 
 But after the second day the improvised stevedore begged 
 for some employment to help him to pass his time, and 
 he was placed at the head of a squad of workers. 
 
 Things remained thus for several months, Marius 
 expecting, from day to day, to obtain his brother's liberty. 
 As to Philippe he was quite happy. Every evening, he 
 went to Saint Barnabe and the pleasure he found there, 
 playing with his son, helped him to forget his troubles. 
 
 He had already been a year at Marseilles, when one 
 evening on reaching the gardener's cottage he fancied he
 
 264 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 saw a tall, thin man behind him who had been following 
 him from the port, but little Joseph's merry welcome 
 soon made him forget the incident. Had he turned his 
 head the next day, he would have found the same tall, 
 thin man following and watching him again. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 M. DE CAZALIS YEARNS FOR JOSEPH. 
 
 DURING the three years that had elapsed since the birth 
 of the son of Blanche and Philippe, important changes 
 had taken place in the existence of M. de Cazalis. He 
 had not been re-elected deputy at the last elections and 
 had come to reside at Marseilles. His defeat, due to the 
 unpopularity he had earned among the people, owing to 
 his quarrels with the Cayols, did not seem to affect him 
 a great deal. The truth was that he preferred attending 
 to his own affairs rather than to those of his country; he 
 had enough cares at home, enough work to do to parry 
 the blows with which he was threatened, without troubling 
 himself with a mandate that would rivet him to Paris for 
 several months in the year. 
 
 He took up his abode at his mansion on the Cours 
 Bonaparte and acted in such a manner as to make him- 
 self forgotten by the whole city. He gave up going out 
 in his carriage and splashing the peaceful tradesmen; he 
 did his best to pass unperceived, and succeeded so well 
 that in a short time he was quite unknown to most people. 
 His dream was to secure his peace of mind as soon as 
 possible, and then proceed to Paris and devour his niece's 
 fortune in grand style. 
 
 If he led the sad and retired life that he did, it was 
 because his instinct of prudence urged him to study the 
 position and secure immunity, before laying a finger on 
 what did not belong to him. He had a mad desire to 
 satisfy himself at once, but was afraid. He was willing 
 enough to despoil Blanche, on condition he would never 
 be branded as a thief.
 
 M. DE CAZALIS YEARNS FOR JOSEPH. 265 
 
 When he had succeeded in being forgotten, when he was 
 shut up in his mansion like a simple bourgeois, fond of 
 retirement and silence, he planted his batteries. He found 
 himself in the centre of the intrigue he meant to direct, 
 and was in hopes that by his nonchalant attitude he had 
 dispelled the distrust of his adversaries. At the bottom of 
 his heart, his most ardent desire was to discover the 
 whereabouts of his niece's boy and obtain possession of 
 him. Then only would he be able to grasp the fortune 
 that was lying idle in his hands. But, by an effort of 
 hypocrisy, he was able to restrain himself for nearly three 
 years; he remained quiet, without appearing to take any 
 steps to find out where his great nephew was hidden; 
 and, in reality, he did not risk a single attempt, being 
 faithful to his plan of feigned indifference. 
 
 The result of this comedy was to tranquillize Marius. 
 The young man had imagined that the day after the babe 
 had been carried off, M. de Cazalis would have flown 
 into a rage, scoured Marseilles and searched everywhere 
 else to find him. He was first of all very much surprised 
 at the indifference of Blanche's uncle and suspected that 
 it served to hide some trap. Then, little by little, his 
 suspicions were dispelled and he dozed away in happy 
 confidence, until at length he thought no more of this 
 man who was hiding in obscurity, in order to watch his 
 prey the better. 
 
 If M. de Cazalis was patient and made no researches, 
 it was because he knew the Cayols could not make use 
 of the child against him for some time. He permitted 
 them to bring it up, counting on stealing it when it became 
 dangerous to leave it in their hands. So long as Philippe 
 did not return to France, so long as his son had not 
 attained a certain age, Marius had his hands tied; it was 
 impossible for him to create a scandal that might turn 
 against his own brother. 
 
 To tell the truth M. dc Cazalis placed great reliance 
 on the upright and just mind of Marius, in order to bring 
 his own affairs to a happy issue: he said to himself that 
 the young man would never venture to compromise 
 Blanche, and that he would sooner abandon the fortune
 
 266 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 than do so. In any case, he had at least five years 
 tranquillity before him. 
 
 But if he relied on the virtues of Marius, he was in 
 absolute terror when he thought of Philippe. He felt 
 that if he ever fell into the latter's hands he would meet 
 with no mercy. He knew the violence, the energetic 
 nature of the fugitive, and considered him a man who 
 would stop at nothing when it was a question of satis- 
 fying a hatred or a vengeance. So lie took certain pre- 
 cautions to shelter himself from that hatred in case 
 Philippe returned to France. He earnestly desired to see 
 him commit that imprudence ; and, rather for the pleasure 
 of having him arrested, than to escape his vindictiveness, 
 he employed a certain Matheus, a rascal who was devoted 
 to him, to go to Italy and keep at the young man's heels 
 so as to return with him in case he took it into his head 
 to embark. 
 
 The spy acquitted himself faithfully of his mandate. He 
 found Philippe at Genoa and from that moment never left 
 him. When the latter returned to Marseilles, Matheus 
 was on the same steamer, but by chance lost sight of him 
 during the confusion of landing, and he had to inform 
 his employer of the presence of his enemy in the city, 
 without being able to tell him where he was in hiding. 
 
 When M. de Cazalis learned that Philippe was at Mar- 
 seilles he felt extremely uneasy, not that he feared imme- 
 diate and direct vengeance, but because he imagined the 
 young man would obstinately pursue him and make him 
 disgorge. He desired his return to France, but on con- 
 dition that he might know his hiding-place, and hand 
 him over to the police the day after his arrival. But as 
 he had escaped his vigilance, he imagined he was hover- 
 ing round him and preparing pitfalls beneath his feet. 
 
 He lived for a year in perpetual anxiety. He watched 
 Marius to no purpose, ordered Matheus to follow him 
 everywhere, but failed to find Philippe, for the two 
 brothers had agreed that they would not meet until the 
 pardon had been granted and they could shake hands 
 without fear. Besides, Philippe appeared so different in his 
 coarse garments of a stevedore, with his sunburnt hands
 
 M. DE CAZALIS YEARNS FOR JOSEPH. 267 
 
 and face that Matheus passed several times close to him 
 without recognising him. 
 
 M. cle Cazalis, who did not wish to take the police into- 
 his confidence, without having prepared a certain capture, 
 was in despair at his spy's want of success. He sent him 
 throughout Marseilles daily, making him promises that 
 were each time more tempting, spurred on by the dread 
 of seeing the steps he knew Marius was taking to obtain 
 his brother's pardon, successful. 
 
 One day M. de Cazalis, who had gone down to the 
 port, mingled with a crowd that had assembled round a 
 wounded man. He ascertained that it was a stevedore 
 whose foot had been crushed under an enormous case of 
 goods. As he went nearer to him he caught sight of another 
 stevedore who was beside the poor fellow, giving orders. 
 This man's quick movements and loud voice made him start. 
 He had only heard Philippe's voice once, at the time of 
 the trial, and it had ever since been ringing in his ears. 
 
 He returned home in all haste and calling Matheus, 
 gave him detailed instructions. He was to make sure of this 
 man's identity, to follow him for two or three days so as 
 to ascertain what his habits were and the places he fre- 
 quented. The pursuit commenced next morning. 
 
 The plan M. de Cazalis had formed, was as simple as- 
 it was clever. He meant to bring down two birds at 
 one shot. He wished to kiss his little great-nephew, he 
 thought he had left him long enough with the Carols, and 
 desired in his turn to have him. To find the child and 
 steal him, he- determined to make use of his father. 
 Philippe, he felt convinced, paid frequent visits to his son: 
 therefore he had only to follow him to discover where the 
 little one was concealed. M. de Cazalis calculated that 
 when he had found out this hiding-place, it would be 
 easy to have his enemy arrested, and, at the same time, 
 to take possession of Blanche's heir. 
 
 Two days later Matheus informed his employer that the 
 stevedore was indeed Philippe Cayol, and that every night 
 he went to the cottage of a gardener, named Ayasse, at 
 Saint Barnabe who also had charge of a child. The ex- 
 deputy understood all, and smiled in triumph.
 
 2 68 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " At what hour does this man go to Saint Barnabe ? " 
 he asked Matheus. 
 
 " At six o'clock in the evening, " answered the latter, 
 "and he remains there until nine o'clock." 
 
 " Good. Return here to-morrow at six. I will give 
 you your orders." 
 
 The next day M. de Cazalis had a short interview with 
 Matheus. Then they set out for Saint Barnabe which 
 they reached at seven o'clock. A couple of gendarmes 
 accompanied them. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 " OPEN, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW ! " 
 
 PHILIPPE had been leading a monotonous sort of life since 
 he had been in hiding at Marseilles, and his only pleasure 
 consisted in going to kiss his son every evening at Saint 
 Barnabe. 
 
 Marius, out of prudence, had begged him to wait, to 
 make these visits, until he was free, for he felt that it would 
 have been better for father and son to be separated until 
 the time came when they could see each other without 
 danger to either. But he had had to give way to his 
 brother's urgent entreaties; and he tranquillized his mind 
 by thinking M. de Cazalis must be unaware of the presence 
 of Philippe and his son at Marseilles. 
 
 The condemned man who visited no one, not even 
 Marius, went every evening to the gardener's cottage and 
 there enjoyed the only happy hours of his existence. 
 Generally as soon as he made his appearance, the gardener 
 and his wife took advantage of his arrival, to set out 
 with the fruit and vegetables they grew, for Marseilles. As 
 he was alone in the house he bolted the door and played 
 with Joseph like a child. This relieved his mind, he forgot 
 the past and present, to dream of a happy future. When 
 he was there in that old house so quiet and pleasant, he 
 forgot he was a condemned man, a wretched creature whom 
 a gendarme could lead back handcuffed to the city; he
 
 "OPEN, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!" 269 
 
 fancied himself a peasant, a labourer who had cultivated 
 the land all day and was resting at night. These serene 
 hours gave him fresh strength and appeased the disagreeable 
 fevers that sometimes racked his frame. No one would 
 have recognised in this bowed-down and aged-looking 
 man, watching over a child like a devoted wet-nurse, the 
 gay and wild young dandy with whose amorous adventures- 
 all Marseilles had been busy a few years before. Ah I 
 misfortune is a hard school ! 
 
 On the evening when M. de Cazalis and Matheus went 
 to Saint Barnabe accompanied by two gendarmes, Philippe 
 had reached the cottage, as usual, at about six o'clock. 
 The gardener and his wife were waiting to take a cartload 
 of grapes to Marseilles. As soon as he was alone he 
 withdrew into the room on the ground floor and shut 
 himself up. Little Joseph was not in a mood for play : 
 he had been running all day among the vines, and had 
 fallen asleep on a sort of old sofa with smiling lips, all 
 stained with the purple juice of the grape. Philippe 
 moved about on tip-toe, so as not to disturb his slumber, 
 and ended by seating himself opposite to him and watch- 
 ing him sleep in the undefined glimmer of the falling 
 twilight. 
 
 He remained in that position for nearly an hour, silent 
 and motionless, listening to the child's light breathing and 
 finding immense delight in gazing on him. Two great 
 tears which he did not feel, trickled down his cheeks. 
 
 As he sat there lost in tender ecstasy, he heard a sudden 
 knock at the door, and it seemed to him as if hands had 
 fallen on his shoulders to arrest him. The violent 
 resounding blows drew him from his dream. He returned 
 from his wanderings to his mother earth, and passed from 
 his oblivious serenity, to the terror of every moment of 
 his life. There, behind the door, were the gendarmes. 
 
 Half erect he listened, firmly determined not to open. 
 He was in the habit of closing the door every evening 
 to make believe the house was empty. Little Joseph 
 continued to sleep, rosy and smiling. The blows redoubled, 
 but the condemned man now observed that they were 
 dealt by a weak and impatient hand. At the same moment
 
 270 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 he heard the suffocating voice of a woman, stammering 
 out in terror : 
 
 " Open, open quickly, for the love of God ! " 
 
 He seemed to recognise the voice and drew back the 
 bolts. 
 
 Fine dashed inside at a bound, out of breath and 
 fainting, and quickly closed the door after her. Then for 
 a minute she stood gasping, with her hands pressed against 
 her heart and unable to speak. 
 
 Philippe gazed on her with astonishment. She had 
 never before been to the cottage at that hour, and something 
 very serious must have happened for her to have risked 
 such a visit, which was compromising for her. 
 
 "What is the matter?" he inquired. 
 
 "They are there," answered Fine, heaving a great sigh, 
 " I saw them on the road and began running across 
 country to get here before them." 
 
 " Who do you mean ? " 
 
 She stared at him as if surprised at his inquiry. 
 
 "Ah! yes," she answered, "you don't know. I came 
 to tell you they were going to arrest you this evening." 
 
 "Arrest me this evening!" exclaimed the young man, 
 drawing himself up in a passion. 
 
 " This afternoon," continued the former flower-girl, "Marius 
 ascertained, by providential chance, that M. de Cazalis 
 had applied for two gendarmes to make an arrest near 
 Saint-Barnabe. " 
 
 "Always, always that man!" 
 
 " Then, Marius who came home mad with grief, sent 
 me off here to take the child and beg you to fly." 
 
 Philippe made a step towards the door. 
 
 "Eh! no," exclaimed the young woman, in despair, "it 
 is too late now. I have not come in time. I tell you 
 they are there." 
 
 Sobbing, she seated herself on a chair near little Joseph, 
 and watched him sleeping, feeling quite broken down. 
 Philippe looked round the room in search of an issue. 
 
 "And no means of safety!" he murmured. "Ah! I 
 prefer to risk all. Give me the child. Night is falling 
 and I shall perhaps have time to escape."
 
 "OPEN, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW ! " 271 
 
 He stooped down to take Joseph, when Fine seized 
 hold of his hands, making an energetic sign to him to 
 listen. Then, in the terrible silence, they heard the sound 
 of footsteps before the house, and almost at the same 
 moment the stocks of muskets came in contact with the 
 door, whilst a stern voice shouted : 
 
 " Open, in the name of the law ! " 
 
 Philippe turned ghastly pale and slid down on the 
 sofa beside his son. 
 
 "All is lost," he murmured. 
 
 "Don't open," said Fine, in an undertone. " Marius 
 impressed upon me, in case you were unable to fly, that 
 you were to put as many impediments as possible to 
 your arrest, so as to gain time." 
 
 "Why did not he come himself?" 
 
 " I don't know. He did not tell me what his plans 
 were. He ran off on his side while I took a fly to get here." 
 
 " He didn't tell you if he would come and give us 
 assistance ? " 
 
 " No. I repeat he is mad with grief. I only heard 
 him murmur : ' I hope to heaven I may succeed.' " 
 
 At that moment, the stocks of the muskets were heard 
 knocking more violently at the door and the terrifying 
 cry resounded : 
 
 " Open, in the name of. the law ! " 
 
 Fine placed her finger on her lips to tell Philippe to 
 preserve absolute silence. Each blow, each word made 
 them start and increased their alarm. Little Joseph con- 
 tinued sleeping between them, but in an uneasy and 
 agitated slumber. 
 
 The gendarmes had already been knocking and shouting 
 for five minutes, and in the end one of them said to M. 
 de Cazalis that the cottage appeared empty, and they had 
 no power to burst open the door. 
 
 "If we were sure your man was inside," he added, 
 " we would soon send the lock flying ; but we cannot run 
 the risk of such a thing, with the chance of not finding 
 him there." 
 
 "The man is certainly there," exclaimed Matheus, " I saw 
 him enter."
 
 272 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " I will answer for everything," added M. de Cazalis, 
 " I'd be responsible for what you do." 
 
 The two gendarmes shook their heads, knowing per- 
 fectly well that they alone would be punished if they 
 broke into a house. They only had orders to arrest the 
 person pointed out to them and were not inclined to go 
 beyond their instructions. 
 
 M. de Cazalis was in despair at their irresolution and 
 at seeing them unwilling to proceed any further, when a 
 voice was heard inside the dwelling. 
 
 "Do you hear?" he said. "You can see the house is 
 not empty and that our man is within ! " 
 
 It was little Joseph who had just opened his eyes. 
 Frightened at finding himself in the dark and at the sound 
 of loud voices, he had burst out crying. Fine, in alarm, 
 had endeavoured in vain to quiet him with kisses, but 
 unsuccessfully. The son betrayed the father. 
 
 The gendarmes knocked again and shouted out: 
 
 "If you don't open, we'll burst in the door?" 
 
 At the violent blows from the stocks of the muskets 
 against the wood, Philippe understood that the door would 
 not resist for very long. He got up and lit the lamp, no 
 longer afraid of the light betraying him. Joseph terrified 
 by the battering outside, which shook the whole house, 
 screamed louder than ever, and Fine, who had risen and 
 was nursing him in her arms, walked backwards and for- 
 wards in despair, powerless to calm him. 
 
 "Oh! let him cry," Philippe said to her. " They know 
 I am here now." 
 
 And he went and kissed his child, murmuring in a 
 broken voice: 
 
 "Poor little darling! " 
 
 As he looked at him his eyes were filled with great 
 tears. When he had kissed him a last time, he quickly 
 advanced towards the door. 
 
 Fine stopped him. 
 
 " What ! Are you going to open to them ? " she inquired 
 in agony. 
 
 "Eh! yes," he answered. "Don't you hear? The 
 wood's giving way and the lock's ready to fly off. Ayasse
 
 "OPEN, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW ! " 273 
 
 may return at any moment, and besides, now that 
 flight is impossible, I won't have the door damaged any 
 further." 
 
 " For pity's sake, wait a little longer. Let us gain 
 time." 
 
 " Gain time. Why ? Isn't it all up ? " 
 
 " No, I've faith in Marius. He impressed on me to 
 put as many obstacles as possible in the way of your 
 arrest, and I implore you to conform to his entreaty. It 
 is a question of your own safety." 
 
 Philippe shook his head. 
 
 " They will make me pay dearly for every minute's 
 resistance," he said. " It's better not to struggle uselessly." 
 
 Fine saw that despair had transformed him into a 
 coward, and she knew not what to say to instil energy 
 into him. All at once she had an idea : 
 
 "But," she exclaimed, "what will become of Joseph ? 
 As soon as you are arrested, these men will take him." 
 
 The young man, who already had a hand almost on a 
 bolt, turned round pale and trembling and returned to 
 Fine's side. 
 
 " Didn't you tell me Cazalis was there with the gen- 
 darmes?" he inquired. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 He turned very pale again, and stammered out in a 
 choking voice. 
 
 " Oh ! I understand it all now. Wretched egotist that 
 I am, I was only thinking of my own safety and my 
 child was in greater danger than myself! You are right, 
 they only come to arrest me here, in order to steal 
 Joseph. What is there to be done? Good heavens!" 
 
 At that moment such a violent blow was given to the 
 door, that the wood cracked, as if it were about to split 
 in two, and Philippe gaxcd round about him bewildered. 
 
 "No issue!" he continued, "and in a few moments 
 the door will be broken in. What can be done, good 
 heavens ! to escape them ! " 
 
 The blows became more and more rcdoutablc. One 
 felt that the gendarmes were becoming furious at the 
 long resistance. Philippe remained for a few seconds with 
 
 18
 
 274 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 his head between his hands trying to think, to discover a 
 means of escape. Then, in a low and rapid voice he said : 
 
 "I am of your opinion. We must try and gain time. 
 Marius has always been my guardian angel." 
 
 " Let us barricade the door with the furniture, " exclaimed 
 the young woman. 
 
 "No, that's not advisable. Open resistance will only 
 hasten on events." 
 
 " What are you going to do then ? " 
 
 "Open the door and give myself up. But before doing 
 so, you must run to the loft with Joseph, and hide yourself 
 as well as possible ; in the meanwhile I will arrange to make 
 the details of my arrest last as long as I can, so as to 
 give my brother time to help us." 
 
 " And if they take you away at once, and if I am left 
 at the mercy of these men?" 
 
 " Then everything will, indeed, be against us. However, 
 there is no time to argue, and there is no choice. Do 
 you hear ? The door is giving way. For love of heaven 
 hurry upstairs and hide yourself well! " 
 
 He pushed Fine towards the staircase; then, when she 
 had disappeared in the dark, he went and drew back the 
 bolts. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 PARDON ! PARDON ! 
 
 PHILIPPE had taken the precaution of putting out the 
 lamp before opening the door, and the gendarmes who 
 were on the point of rushing forward, stopped short on 
 the threshold, fearing that the darkness might conceal 
 some snare. Perhaps the trap door of a cellar was gaping 
 open before them or perhaps they would be attacked from 
 behind, as soon as they entered. The mass of darkness 
 that expanded before them struck terror into their hearts. 
 
 "We must have a light," one of them murmured. "We 
 cannot look for and find a man in this obscurity." 
 
 "I have no lucifer matches on me," said the other.
 
 PARDON! PARDON! 275 
 
 M. de Cazalis was in despair, he had not foreseen this 
 new obstacle. Night was like an impenetrable wall which 
 still separated him from Philippe. 
 
 " Are you afraid ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 And in a moment of anger, he gave a push to the 
 gendarmes who thus advanced a few steps into the room. 
 Philippe who had placed himself upright against the wall 
 at the entrance, dashed forward, passed behind them and 
 found himself outside, after having knocked Matheus 
 almost over. 
 
 " Help ! " the latter yelled, " the man's escaping ! " 
 
 The gendarmes were right about face in an instant. 
 The young man had come to a standstill at a few yards 
 from the house. He could have run away, but he thought 
 no longer of himself, all his mind was taken up with his 
 child. If he had put out the lamp and pretended to 
 make oil it was merely to gain time. With crossed arms 
 .and disdainful bearing, he said in a loud voice: 
 
 "What do you want with me? Why have you obliged 
 me to open the door ? " 
 
 The gendarmes had sprung forward and each had 
 seized him by a wrist. 
 
 "Let me go," he exclaimed, with violence. " You can 
 see, very weil, I am giving myself up voluntarily. Had 
 I wished to escape I could have been far away by now. 
 Speak, what do you want?" 
 
 "We have orders to arrest you," they said, taking their 
 hands off him under the influence of the imperious tone 
 of his voice. 
 
 "Good," he continued, " I will follow you when you 
 have shewn me the warrant concerning me. Let us go in." 
 
 He entered the room, feigning not to see either Matheus 
 or M. de Cazalis. When he had relit the lamp, and the 
 former deputy and his instrument appeared, he turned 
 towards the gendarmes and said in a mocking voice : 
 
 "Do these gentlemen belong to the police?" 
 
 The nobleman received the phrase right in the face 
 like a cut from a whip. He was conscious of the un- 
 worthy part he was playing, and the silent anger that 
 had been raging within him burst out.
 
 276 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 "What are you waiting for?" he cried. "Gag the 
 villain, pinion him. Ah ! rascal, so I've found you, and 
 this time you'll not escape me ! " 
 
 He was foaming, he asked for the handcuffs to put 
 them himself on the prisoner. The latter looked at him 
 with withering contempt. The gendarmes had given him 
 the warrant that had been issued against him and he 
 was reading it slowly, seeking an excuse for delay. In 
 the meanwhile, Matheus had disappeared. He had lit a 
 wax taper he had on him and had slipped into the stair- 
 case. He was going to execute the orders of M. de 
 Cazalis who had promised him a good reward if he suc- 
 ceeded in stealing little Joseph amidst the confusion of 
 Philippe's arrest. 
 
 Matheus was a prudent man who did nothing lightly. 
 For two days he had been studying the habits at the 
 gardener's house: he knew that the latter and his wife 
 must be at Marseilles, and he calculated in his mind 
 that Philippe, hearing the gendarmes, had without doubt 
 hidden his son in a room above. He expected to find 
 the child alone and to be able to take him without diffi- 
 culty. 
 
 He inspected the rooms on the first floor and found 
 nothing. He burst open a door that was locked, searched 
 in every corner and acquired the certitude that Joseph 
 was not there. 
 
 Then, he decided he would go up to the loft. 
 
 The door only closed with a latch. Matheus opened 
 it and advanced a few steps on the straw which went up 
 in a heap to the tiles; he held the taper high, looked 
 from a distance in all the corners, not daring to advance 
 for fear of setting fire to the place. He could find nothing. 
 There was a quantity of things in the place impossi- 
 ble to describe in detail : old caved-in barrels, agricultural 
 implements of no further utility, refuse without a name, 
 encumbering the flooring, and throwing great dark shadows 
 here and there. 
 
 Matheus thought that Philippe could not have hidden 
 his son among all this rubbish covered with dust and 
 cobwebs, and did not pursue his search further, but returned
 
 PARDON! PARDON! 277 
 
 to the first floor, where he made another minute inspection. 
 He opened the articles of furniture, pulled up the curtains, 
 looked everywhere. There was no child. Then he sat 
 down and began to think. The rascal was in the habit 
 of reasoning on all occasions, and of always acting in 
 accordance with the strict laws of logic. 
 
 His reasoning was short and his conclusion unanswer- 
 able. He had heard the child cry, therefore he must be 
 in the house; if he was not to be found on the first floor, 
 he must naturally be in the loft. He had no doubt made 
 an imperfect search. 
 
 He returned to the loft. 
 
 As soon as he entered, he placed his taper on an old 
 watering-pot so as not to set fire to anything. He had 
 thought for a moment of lighting the straw at the risk of 
 burning the place down. The child was there for sure, 
 and he had a vague idea that M. de Cazalis would be 
 delighted at the poor little creature's death. He had only 
 to let the taper fall and Blanche's heir would be roasted. 
 But he was afraid of displaying too much zeal, of going 
 beyond his instructions. His master had asked for the 
 child alive and he couldn't decently take it to him dead. 
 
 He began to search in the straw, to rummage among 
 the old barrels. He proceeded slowly, making sure no 
 corner escaped him, expecting at every moment to put 
 his hand on a warm body. 
 
 The taper placed on the watering-pot, cast a yellow, 
 vacillating light over the loft and afforded him very poor 
 assistance in his search. When he had reached the end 
 of the loft, he suddenly stopped, hearing the sound of 
 restrained breathing. He smiled triumphantly. The noise 
 came from a sort of buttress formed by trusses of hay 
 piled up at some distance from the wall. 
 
 Matheus stretched forward his head and hands, but 
 when he had cast a glance into the hiding-place, he 
 brought his hands down beside him in surprise. Fine 
 had suddenly risen up before him, holding little Joseph 
 against her bosom. The child was fast asleep and smil- 
 ing in his slumber. 
 
 For nearly a quarter of an hour the young girl had
 
 27 8 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 been listening to the smothered tread of Matheus, and 
 during that time, had been a prey to most terrible anxiety. 
 She almost betrayed herself when he appeared in the 
 loft the first time. Then, when he went down, she breathed, 
 thinking herself saved. And there he was back again, 
 and had discovered her! She was lost, he was about to 
 tear Joseph from her arms. 
 
 Erect, all of a tremor, determined she would sooner 
 be assassinated than part with the child, she stared him 
 in the face. 
 
 Matheus was at first stupefied. He did not expect to 
 find this young woman, whom he did not know and who 
 appeared to be the child's mother. Then, the wretch 
 gave a smile of ill-omen. After all, he preferred to have 
 to deal with this young woman than with Philippe. With 
 a push he would tumble her over on the hay and easily 
 take the child from her. Fine no doubt read his thoughts 
 in his eyes, for she put her back against the wall and 
 stiffened her legs ready for the struggle. 
 
 They did not exchange a word. The taper was dimly 
 burning. He stretched out his hand, she closed her eyes, 
 thinking herself already dead, when a sound, increasing as 
 it proceeded, rose from the room where Philippe was still 
 with the gendarmes. A well-beloved voice which the 
 young woman recognised, was crying : " Pardon! Pardon! " 
 amid outbursts of joy and triumph. 
 
 Fine felt her courage return. 
 
 "Do you hear?" she asked Matheus. "Heaven has 
 come to our assistance. It's for you, rascal, that the 
 gendarmes have brought the handcuffs." 
 
 Matheus in alarm, forgot Fine and the child, thinking 
 only of his safety. He ran to the door of the loft and 
 listened. Then he began thinking where he could fly to 
 in case things took an unfavourable turn. 
 
 Down below, Philippe, after reading the warrant for 
 his arrest, had to give himself up to the gendarmes. He 
 succeeded, however, in delaying his departure under 
 pretence that he could not quit the gardener's house, 
 without leaving him a few words of explanation. The 
 truth was that he had seen Matheus disappear by the
 
 PARDON! PARDON! 279 
 
 staircase and was trembling for Fine and his child. He 
 counted no longer on Marius, he simply wanted to await 
 the gardener's return so as not to leave the house at the 
 mercy of M. de Cazalis. 
 
 The gendarmes allowed him to write a few lines and 
 then told him he must set out. He gazed about him in 
 despair and only saw the ex-deputy who was sneering. 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed the latter, "so you're muzzled! 
 You won't carry off any more heiresses, you won't cause 
 any more scandal in families. Ah ! it'll be a curious 
 sight to see the gallant Philippe Cayol fastened to the 
 pillory ! " 
 
 Philippe did not answer out of disdain and so as not 
 to be tempted to smack the man in the face. Since he 
 had been there, he feigned to ignore his presence. 
 Whilst M. de Cazalis insulted him, a gendarme put on the 
 handcuffs. 
 
 " Off we go! " he said. 
 
 And Philippe was obliged to advance towards the door. 
 He felt dreadful agony at the throat and almost burst 
 out sobbing. Just at that moment, as the door was open, 
 a joyful shout resounded outside, and a man walked in 
 repeating: "Pardon! Pardon!" 
 
 It was Marius. Not having been able to get a fly, he 
 had run all the way from Marseilles. He drew a paper 
 from beneath his dusty clothes and presented it to the 
 gendarmes. This paper announced the pardon which the 
 King had granted to Philippe. 
 
 The document had been promised to the condemned 
 man's brother for more than a month, and as chance 
 would have it, it arrived at the very moment when M. 
 de Cazalis was exerting his last vestiges of influence to 
 prevail on the authorities to act. If Marius had not 
 proceeded at once to Saint Barnabe with Fine, it was 
 because he wanted to see once more whether the pardon 
 had not come to hand. 
 
 The gendarmes read the all-powerful letter and bowed 
 before it. Their errand was over: it onlv remained for 
 them to withdraw. M. de Ca/alis, with haggard features, 
 terrified at this unforeseen issue, watched them leave
 
 280 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 with anger, as if they had been working for the liberty 
 of his enemy. He was thinking in the folly of his 
 despair, whether there was not some means of compelling 
 them to take Philippe off to prison in spite of all. Marius 
 had embraced his brother on entering, Saying to him : 
 
 " You are free. Heaven be praised ! I've come in time ! " 
 
 And Philippe had remained for a moment motionless, 
 choking, not daring to understand. Then he suddenly 
 darted upstairs. He had just thought of the man who 
 had gone up there to rob him of his son. 
 
 Matheus heard the sound of his footsteps. In terror, 
 understanding that he was threatened with danger, he 
 looked rapidly about him for something to assist him in 
 flight. Hanging from a pulley before the window of the 
 loft, which stood wide open, was a piece of cord. He 
 grasped it at the risk of falling and slid down, almost 
 falling on the head of M. de Cazalis, who was leaving 
 with an oath on his lips, and rage in his heart. 
 
 When the ex-deputy saw Matheus without the child, 
 he almost struck him. His expedition had entirely failed, 
 he had not secured either father or son. 
 
 Fine, rescued from the brutality of Matheus, hastened 
 downstairs with Philippe to the room below. And there 
 the two brothers and young woman, mad with joy, smo- 
 thered little Joseph with kisses. 
 
 " Now, we are strong ! " exclaimed Marius. " We are 
 no longer at the disadvantage of having a criminal sentence 
 hanging over our heads, and can work openly for the 
 happiness of this child." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE INSURRECTION OF FEBRUARY, 1848. 
 
 THE two brothers on awakening the next morning expe- 
 rienced considerable delight at finding themselves together 
 and free of all fear. They had brought Joseph away 
 with them the evening before, after having thanked Ayasse, 
 the gardener, and handsomely rewarded him.
 
 THE INSURRECTION OF FEBRUARY, 1848. 281 
 
 Philippe and his son slept at the little lodging of the 
 young married couple. During the night Marius who was 
 very much upset and unable to close his eyes, thought 
 out the plan of a new existence, and as soon as the 
 family were assembled round the breakfast-table proceeded 
 to explain it. 
 
 "Come," he said, "let us speak seriously. We must 
 decide what we are going to do with this child, and what 
 Philippe will do." 
 
 Philippe at once became grave and attentive. He had 
 often thought of the life he would lead when it would be 
 no longer necessary to keep in hiding; and he felt it was 
 his duty to work for his son and renounce his ambitious 
 ideas and follies. 
 
 "The child," continued Marius, smiling, and looking 
 at Fine, " will easily find a mother." 
 
 The young woman was holding little Joseph on her 
 knees and encouraging him to eat his bread and milk with 
 all sorts of caresses. When she heard what her husband 
 said, she exclaimed : 
 
 "A mother! Here she is! He was entrusted to me, 
 given to me. Is not that so, Philippe ? It's I who am his 
 mother. As we have no children, I'll take this one 
 and I'll not part with him. He will always stay with me 
 and you'll see how fond I shall be of him! " 
 
 Philippe who was very much affected at these words 
 pressed the hands of the former flower-girl warmly. The 
 thought of bringing up his son had caused him much 
 anxiety, and he had often inquired of himself how he 
 could attend to a boy of four. Fine's offer relieved him 
 of his embarrassed position : he would not be separated 
 from Joseph and the child would have a devoted mother 
 to watch over him. 
 
 "The child is provided for," continued Marius, laugh- 
 ing, "and I will undertake to provide for the father; but 
 before we go any further, tell me, Philippe, what your 
 ideas are." 
 
 " I wish to work," replied the young man, " I want to 
 make you forget my follies, and to assure for myself a 
 calm and happy future."
 
 282 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 "That is perfect. You renounce your dreams of wealth, 
 and consent to be a poor fellow like I am ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I can give you what you want. You must cast 
 aside the stevedore's blouse. I will offer you a modest 
 position which will enable you to live without being a 
 drag upon anyone." 
 
 " I accept all, in anticipation. I confide in you with 
 my eyes closed, being sure that whatever you do will 
 conduce to my happiness." 
 
 " Very well ! I am going to place you immediately with 
 my employer, M. Martelly. For more than six months I 
 have been reserving a post for you there, that will bring 
 you in eighteen hundred francs a year. Believe me, my 
 dear brother, remain obscure, do not seek to bear the 
 sway and we will enjoy happy times together." 
 
 The two brothers went to the ship-owner, who gave 
 Philippe a kind welcome and seemed delighted to assist 
 him by engaging him in his employ. 
 
 "My dear Marius," said he, gaily, " put this young man 
 where you like. There is a great deal of work to do here, 
 and we require an active and intelligent staff. I like those 
 who serve me faithfully." 
 
 Marius entrusted his brother with a part of the corre- 
 spondence, which was considerable, and from that moment 
 Philippe commenced a peaceful existence. He passed the 
 daytime at his office and in the evening enjoyed the 
 tranquillity of the home of the young couple, taking Joseph 
 on his knees and playing with him for hours together. 
 Fine had been able to rent an extra room on the fourth 
 floor from the landlord, and made it comfortable for the 
 young man whose life was in common with that of the 
 young household; he lodged and took his meals with his 
 brother, never went out, and seemed to care for nothing 
 beyond this domestic felicity. 
 
 This peaceful and affectionate life lasted for several 
 weeks, and to see such an united and happy family, no 
 one would ever have thought that it had been a victim 
 to the most violent commotion a few months before. 
 
 Sometimes, however, Philippe's voice took the brief and
 
 THE INSURRECTION OF FEBRUARY, 1848. 285 
 
 irritated accents of former days. When he thought of M. 
 de Cazalis the fever seized him again, and he spoke of 
 making Blanche's uncle disgorge. 
 
 "We are cowards," he said one evening to Marius, "we 
 don't know how to avenge ourselves. I ought to go and 
 slap that man in the face and demand my son's fortune." 
 
 Marius, whose calm and well-balanced mind enabled 
 him to take a more sober view of the position, was quite 
 alarmed at his brother's sudden outbursts of passion. 
 
 "And what good would it do," he answered, "if you 
 were to slap your enemy in the face? He would have 
 you imprisoned again, that is all." 
 
 " But that man's a thief! He's keeping money that does 
 not belong to him; he's perhaps spending it for his own 
 purposes. Ah ! you're a happy fellow, Marius, to be able 
 to think of such things without getting in a rage. For 
 my part I feel inclined to wrest this property, which by 
 right should go to Joseph, away from him." 
 
 " I beg you not to do any more headstrong things. We 
 are living peacefully enough at present. Do not spoil our 
 happiness." 
 
 "Then you want me to renounce on behalf of my child, 
 his mother's inheritance?" 
 
 " Eh ! I prefer that you should renounce this inheritance, 
 at least for the moment, rather than trouble our life again. 
 Let us remain on the defensive and not attack. We are 
 too weak, and shall be smashed at the first shock." 
 
 " I would like to see my son wealthy and powerful. I 
 feel ambitious for him if not for myself." 
 
 " Your son is happy, we love him and will bring him 
 up as an honest man. Believe me, he wants nothing, 
 there would perhaps be more reason to pity him if you 
 succeeded in making him a rich heir." 
 
 Conversations such as these frequently occurred between 
 Philippe and Marius. The latter felt that M. de Cazalis was 
 too powerful to be attacked with any likelihood of success ; he 
 understood that the former deputy would assume the offen- 
 sive at the first opportunity, and he wished to reserve all his 
 power for the defence. His most earnest desire was to make 
 Blanche's uncle forget the existence of Joseph and Philippe.
 
 284 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Besides, he was urged by many reasons to preach dis- 
 interestedness to his brother. He feared that the latter 
 on becoming wealthy would go crazy again. What he 
 was dreaming of, moreover, for his nephew, was the same 
 tranquil existence of a clerk as his own, and he did not 
 think that he could prepare him a more agreeable future. 
 
 He frequently said to himself: " This child will be 
 poor and happy as I am, he will find a Fine who will 
 afford him the same pleasure as I enjoy." At the bottom 
 of his heart he had decided that he would never claim a 
 sou from M. de Cazalis. 
 
 When Philippe pressed him too much he spoke to him 
 of Blanche, and said that a scandal would kill that poor 
 girl, for M. de Cazalis would not consent to being deprived 
 of several hundreds of thousands of francs without revo- 
 lutionizing all Marseilles. 
 
 It was thus that he restrained his brother, and prevented 
 him from making a scene which might have caused irre- 
 parable misfortune. 
 
 Briefly, Marius proved to Philippe that the time had 
 not arrived to be avenged and claim the inheritance, and 
 from that moment the existence of the family was even 
 more peaceful. They had only one anxiety, they felt M. 
 de Cazalis hovering round them in the dark, and they 
 took every precaution to protect little Joseph against the 
 attempts they dreaded. 
 
 In this way they reached the commencement of February. 
 Marius had his mind at ease, he was pleased to see his 
 brother put up with an obscure and modest mode of life, 
 and believed him for ever cured of his ambitious dreams, 
 There was nothing in the young man's conduct to alarm 
 him, he was saying to himself that he had overcome his 
 evil genius, when all at once Philippe took to going out 
 alone and to absenting himself from his office for entire 
 days. 
 
 Marius trembled at the thought of their happiness being 
 disturbed. He followed his brother in order to ascertain 
 where he went, and he learnt that he was a member of 
 a secret society, which, subject to impulsion coming no 
 doubt from Paris, was actively at work propagating Repub-
 
 THE INSURRECTION OF FEBRUARY, 1848. 285 
 
 lican ideas. This discovery upset him, he was in despair 
 again at seeing his brother compromise himself and supply 
 M. de Cazalis with arms which he might turn to terrible 
 account. When he ventured to sermonize the conspirator, 
 the latter answered : 
 
 " Listen, I promised you not to be guilty of any follies 
 on my own account, but I had no intention in doing so, 
 of renouncing my own opinions. The people's time has 
 come and I should be a man unworthy of consideration 
 if I were not to labour for what I believe to be the good 
 of all." 
 
 And he added with a smile : 
 
 " In future I shall have but one love and her name 
 will be 'Liberty'." 
 
 Marius endeavoured in vain to keep him at home 
 in the evening beside little Joseph. He would listen to 
 nothing, and the young household were obliged to submit 
 in silence and despair to the ruin of their happiness. 
 
 The truth was that a peaceful life did not suit Philippe. 
 He had been able to live for two months in bourgeois 
 tranquillity, but he now began to feel sick at heart. What 
 he required was violent excitement, an existence full of 
 danger and agitation, and he dashed with delight into the 
 peril offered by a revolution that was imminent. He had 
 always been a man of action and an ultra democrat. 
 Embittered by suffering, having to avenge himself of the 
 nobility, he accepted the hope of an insurrection with 
 lively joy. And so, he resumed his blunt manner, made 
 himself the leader of a party, urged the working classes 
 on blindly to revolt and prepared the indigent population 
 for the barricades that he saw in perspective. 
 
 On Friday, 25th February, a thunder-clap burst upon 
 Marseilles. News came of the overthrow of Louis Philippe 
 and the proclamation of the Republic at Paris. 
 
 The city was astounded. This population of commer- 
 cial people who were conservatives by instinct, having no 
 care beyond their material interests, was entirely devoted 
 to the dynasty of the Orleans who for fifteen years had 
 favoured, in a large measure, the development of com- 
 merce and industrv.
 
 286 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 The opinion predominating at Marseilles was that the 
 best government was that which allows speculators the 
 greatest liberty of action. Consequently the inhabitants 
 were greatly alarmed at the announcement of a crisis 
 which would naturally put a stop to business and bring 
 about numerous bankruptcies by causing the credit on 
 which most of the commercial houses alone existed, to 
 be stopped. 
 
 Under these circumstances Marseilles received news of 
 the Republic as a deplorable commercial disaster. The 
 city felt wounded at heart, in its prosperity, by the insur- 
 rectional movement at Paris. The majority were in de- 
 spair at the idea of losing the five-franc pieces they had 
 hoarded up, and there were but few who felt a tremor 
 at the word " Liberty " or whom it drew from the heavy 
 slumber of wealth. 
 
 Philippe had been too confident when he thought he 
 could sow and develop Republican ideas among his fellow 
 townsmen. He exerted himself to do so with all the 
 strength of his nature, dreaming wide awake and working 
 hard to realize his dreams. If he had made a better 
 study of the people among whom he lived, if he had 
 possessed the necessary coolness to judge men and things, 
 he would have renounced the idea of raising the standard 
 of liberalism and have prudently remained quiet. 
 
 The Republican party, to tell the truth, did not exist ; 
 there was no connection between the liberal bourgeois 
 class and the people: the latter remained on the lowest 
 stage, without leaders, without any well-defined tendencies, 
 and with no courage to act alone; the bourgeois class 
 were satisfied with a little reasonable liberty, prepared for 
 their use. The few drawing-room republicans who uttered 
 their fine phrases here and there, were simple babblers 
 who did not understand the modern ideas of the various 
 -classes of society, and who merely took advantage of the 
 new state of things to make themselves prominent. 
 
 Opposed to these weak and disunited Republican ele- 
 ments, were two powerful camps : the Legitimists who were 
 laughing in the sleeve at the overthrow of Louis Philippe, 
 hoping to take advantage of the disturbance to seize the
 
 THE INSURRECTION OF FEBRUARY, 1848. 287 
 
 reins of power again, and the Conservatives, the crowd of com- 
 mercial men who clamoured for peace at any cost, whoever 
 were the master, a legitimate King or an Usurper. The latter 
 only hoped ardently for one liberty: the liberty to earn millions. 
 
 If Marseilles had dared, it would perhaps have made 
 a counter-revolution. Compelled to submit to events, it 
 confined itself to opposing the new government with sullen 
 reaction. It accepted the Republic, from the first moment, 
 with distrust, and endeavoured to lessen the effects of 
 the new order of things as much as possible. The Con- 
 servative and Legitimist elements still dominated the city, 
 and made it a very active centre of opposition. 
 
 At times, when Philippe was not led away by excitement, 
 he could see clearly that he and his, would never succeed 
 in making Marseilles a Republican city, and he then 
 experienced great despair and anger. For some time he 
 took to journalism ; but he soon understood that the 
 flaming articles he published were not even read by the 
 frightened swarm of commercial men and that his enthu- 
 siasm was thrown away. He then saw that action was 
 preferable to journalism. 
 
 One of the measures that made him despair the most 
 was the formation of a National Guard selected exclu- 
 sively among the aristocratic bourgeois of Marseilles. This 
 National Guard was evidently destined to keep the people 
 in check. He would have liked to see the poor admitted 
 to its ranks as well as the wealthy, so that the guard of 
 the city might be entrusted to a generality of citizens, 
 to a body honestly animated with liberal sentiments. 
 
 The people alarmed the Conservatives who armed the 
 bourgeois class so as to create an antagonistic feeling 
 between the two, and to set one against the other if 
 circumstances permitted. It was simply preparing civil 
 war. The corporation of stevedores, was the only element 
 among the labouring classes, that was admitted into the 
 ranks, because it was no doubt thought that the members 
 of this corporation, who were in the pay, as it were, of the 
 merchants who employed them, would consent to fight 
 against their fellows, the other workers, the populace whose 
 name alone caused alarm.
 
 288 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Philippe energetically refused to belong to the National 
 Guard. 
 
 " I shall remain with the people," he exclaimed in public. 
 " If ever they are attacked, if their rights are not respected, 
 I shall advise them to arm also and will fight with them." 
 
 From Friday 25th to Tuesday 2Qth Marseilles could 
 not decide on proclaiming the Republic. The authorities 
 of the former regime remained at their post and the entire 
 city was anxious and ill at ease. The Prefect and Mayor 
 affirmed that they were without news from Paris. Feeling 
 there was great peril in leaving the power in the hands 
 of the servants of the former King, the Republicans made 
 several manifestations without effect. Reaction was already 
 commencing and the Conservatives would not abandon 
 the position without being certain there was no further 
 hope. Monday night was reached thus. A multitude of 
 workmen assembled on the Cannebiere, were to march 
 to the Town Hall in a body, with torches in their hands 
 and a flag at their head, to obtain a formal promise that 
 the new government would be publicly proclaimed on 
 the following morning. 
 
 During these five days of anxiety, Philippe was in a 
 terrible state of excitement. He did not go to his office, 
 returned home late, quite upset with the violent emotions 
 of the day, and brought angry and threatening language 
 into the sad and distressed young household. 
 
 Fine and Marius gazed on him in despair, convinced 
 that he was going to his ruin, and unable to stop him 
 at the brink of the precipice. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 IN WHICH MATHEUS BECOMES A REPUBLICAN. 
 
 WHEN M. de Cazalis' temper had calmed down on the 
 day following his expedition to the cottage of Ayasse, the 
 gardener, he was seized with absolute terror. He felt 
 himself in the power of his enemies: now that Philippe 
 had obtained his pardon, the Cayols would no doubt 
 track him without pity.
 
 MATHEUS BECOMES A REPUBLICAN. 289 
 
 He allowed Matheus to be a witness of his alarm. Not 
 knowing on whom to vent the rage that his powerlessness 
 aroused within him, he overwhelmed his agent with 
 reproaches, reviled him and said that if he had not stolen 
 Joseph, it must be because he was in the pay of Marius. 
 
 Matheus received the abuse philosophically and shrugged 
 his shoulders. 
 
 "Very good! continue!" he said, impudently, "call me 
 a villain, if that relieves you. At heart you know I am 
 devoted to you, because you pay me far more liberally 
 than those beggars Cayol could ever do. Instead of getting 
 irritable, it would be wiser to think over the position and 
 come to a decision." 
 
 The rascal's self-possession calmed down M. de Cazalis 
 and he then confided to his accomplice, that he had a 
 very good mind to fly, and go and live in peace in Italy 
 or England. It was the simplest and most expeditious 
 way of escaping the annoyances with which he was 
 threatened. They would certainly not go and demand 
 the accounts of his guardianship in a foreign country. 
 
 Matheus listened to his master and shook his head. 
 This idea of running away did not suit his views at all. 
 To complete his fortune he required M. de Cazalis to 
 remain at Marseilles, so that he might speculate on his 
 fright and get all the money he could out of him. He 
 certainly felt that the latter was right in wishing to take 
 to his heels, which meant safety, but lie cared very little 
 about the safetv of M. de Cazalis, and did not mind if 
 he compromised him, from the moment it was to his 
 interest to launch him into a struggle from which the issue 
 was doubtful. What he desired above everything, was not 
 to lose his pay as a spy. He therefore pleaded warmly 
 against flight, and he was fortunate enough to find good 
 reasons to support his argument. 
 
 "Why fly?" he said. "Have you abandoned the idea 
 of avenging yourself then ? There is no reason to despair. 
 Your enemies are trembling before you and will never 
 dare attack you openly. There arc a thousand things 
 that bind them to silence. Come, you are very wrong to 
 be alarmed. In your place I would remain and conquer. 
 
 19
 
 290 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 I would openly assume the offensive. Those idiots are 
 sure to make a mistake. We will take advantage of 
 everything, and the time will come when we shall have 
 them again in our power. You have accused me of 
 clumsiness because I did not succeed in bringing you the 
 little one. I am not clumsy and I have a return match 
 to play. On the word of an honest man, you shall have 
 the child. The deuce ! Acting together we can make 
 anything we engage in succeed." 
 
 He spoke at length, cleverly appealed to his employer's 
 pride and vengeance, and ended by persuading him to 
 remain and continue the struggle. Then there was a long 
 conference between them. 
 
 Before doing anything M. de Cazalis desired Matheus 
 to make -an effort with Blanche. He was to endeavour 
 to obtain her signature to various documents which would 
 deprive her son of a large part of his inheritance. 
 
 He set out on his errand firmly decided not to get 
 anything signed, for if he acted in accordance with his 
 master's desire, that would simplify matters too much, and 
 his services would no longer be required, as when the 
 documents were once signed his master could dispense 
 with his assistance. He arranged in such a manner that 
 Blanche firmly refused her signature. 
 
 M. de Cazalis was exasperated at this refusal; and only 
 dreamed of vengeance. He spoke of nothing less than 
 having the Cayols knocked on the head. 
 
 It was at that degree of irritation that Matheus wished 
 to see him arrive, and he took advantage of it to make 
 him give him full powers. He then begged him not to 
 meddle in the affair, so as not to compromise himself. 
 Every evening he called and made him a report which was 
 true or false ; he kept him informed of the acts and attitude 
 of his enemies, calming him, irritating him according to his 
 requirements, and always promising him prompt victory. 
 
 Two months passed. M. de Cazalis was beginning to 
 get impatient, saying the Cayols were too circumspect, 
 and that such people would never make a mistake, when 
 one evening Matheus entered his drawing-room, rubbing 
 his hands with the air of a conqueror.
 
 MATHEUS BECOMES A REPUBLICAN. 291 
 
 " What's the news ? " inquired the ex-deputy impatiently 
 of his accomplice. 
 
 Matheus did not answer immediately. He had seated 
 himself comfortably in an armchair, and, with his hands 
 crossed over his stomach, sat blinking his eyes with a 
 sanctimonious air. This lackey treated the illustrious 
 descendant of the Cazalis as an equal. 
 
 "What do you think of the Republic?" he abruptly 
 inquired of his master, in a bantering tone. " It's a fine 
 invention of the human mind, is it not?" 
 
 The master shrugged his shoulders. He tolerated this 
 rascal's impudence, and the latter took secret delight in 
 wounding him. 
 
 " You are aware that the monarchy is dead and buried," 
 continued the tatterdemalion in the same bantering tone. 
 " We have been citizens for the last twenty-four hours 
 and I feel inclined to address you in the second person." 
 
 M. (!c Cazalis had been following political events during 
 the last few months with much indifference. He had 
 learned on the previous evening of the overthrow of 
 Louis Philippe, without even paying attention to the news. 
 Formerly, when he was deputy in the opposition ranks, 
 and sought to shake this throne which the people had 
 just upset, he would have applauded at the event, Iree 
 afterwards to discover the most rapid way of muzzling 
 the rabble, which was the name he generally gave to the 
 working classes, but at the present moment his only 
 anxictv consisted in discovering a means by which he 
 could retain possession of his niece's fortune so as to be 
 able to devour it with impunity. 
 
 When he heard Matheus say he felt inclined to 
 address him in the second person, he nevertheless made 
 a movement of disgust. 
 
 "No joking," he said drily. "Come, what news have 
 you ? " 
 
 Matheus maintained his insolent attitude. 
 
 "Eh! Eh!" he answered, with a sneer, "how sharply 
 you speak to your brothers; for you arc aware that we 
 are all brothers! it's written on the flags. Oh! what a 
 fine thing the Republic is!"
 
 292 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " Come to the point. What do you know ? Where 
 have you been?" 
 
 " I know that we shall perhaps be throwing up barricades 
 one of these days, and I come from the Workers' Club, 
 of which I am one of the most popular members. It is 
 matter for regret, sir, that your opinions debar you from 
 listening to me. I delivered a speech this morning against 
 the Legitimists which was approved by everyone present. 
 But for the matter of that, I can give you proof of my 
 eloquence." 
 
 And Matheus rising, stood upright, one hand on his 
 heart and the other extended in front of him like a man 
 about to speak. 
 
 M. de Cazalis understood that his worthy associate had 
 some good news to tell him, and that he was making him 
 pay for that news by amusing himself at his expense. 
 He belonged to this man, and he saw he would be com- 
 pelled to accept his sneers until it pleased him to say 
 all. By cowardice and to flatter this rascal who played 
 with him as with a prey, he lowered himself to the point 
 of laughing at his clownish grimaces hoping by so doing 
 to make him speak out sooner. 
 
 "You certainly must make a capital speaker," he said 
 to him, with a smile. 
 
 Matheus had kept in the same position, trying to recall 
 the sentences of his speech. Then, he let himself fall 
 into the armchair, crossed his legs, threw himself back 
 and continued, still sneering : 
 
 " I can't remember it. It was very fine. I said the 
 Legitimists were rascals. I even think I mentioned your 
 name and suggested hanging you at the first opportunity. 
 They applauded. I must, you understand, take care of 
 my popularity." 
 
 He laughed, displaying his wolfish teeth. 
 
 M. de Cazalis, who was becoming exasperated at the 
 scoundrel's familiarity, walked up and down the room 
 making the greatest efforts not to burst out in anger. 
 The other felt delicious delight at his rage, remained silent 
 for a moment, and when he saw it would be imprudent 
 to make fun any longer, he continued in a bantering tone :
 
 MATHEUS BECOMES A REPUBLICAN. 293 
 
 "By the way, I forgot to tell you that M. Philippe 
 Cayol is my colleague at the Workers' Club." 
 
 M. de Cazalis came to a standstill. 
 
 "At last!" he murmured. 
 
 "Yes," continued Matheus slowly, "M. Philippe Cayol 
 is a very warm Republican and I pride myself on being 
 his disciple. I humbly confess to you that his speeches 
 are of a much more fervent, democratic character than 
 mine. That young man will certainly save the country 
 if it ever stands in need of being saved." 
 
 "Ah ! that simpleton has flung himself into the Liberal 
 movement ? " 
 
 " Body and soul. He is one of the leaders of the red 
 party. The working-men worship him because he shows 
 no pride with them and because he has the simplicity to 
 tell them in good faith that the people are King and that 
 the poor are going to take the place of the nobility and 
 wealthy." 
 
 M. de Cazalis was beaming. 
 
 " He is compromising himself, we have him in our grip ! " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 Matheus feigned to be scandalized. 
 
 "What, he is compromising himself!" he answered. 
 " Say he is a hero, a glorious child of the Republic ! In 
 ten years, the people, conquerors of kings, will erect altars 
 to him. I experienced such enthusiasm at his speeches, 
 that I suddenly felt the material of a Republican in me." 
 
 He rose, and with clownish majesty continued: 
 
 " Citizens, you see in me a Republican. Look at me, 
 observe how a Republican is made. We are only a few 
 hundred at Marseilles, but we are sufficient to bring 
 about the salvation of humanity. As for myself I am 
 full of zeal 
 
 In his turn he strode up and down the room. 
 
 " Here is what I have already accomplished in favour 
 of the Republic," he continued. "I have taken M. Phi- 
 lippe Cayol as a model, and in order to inspire my mind 
 with his thoughts, I have followed him step by step. We 
 were both members of a secret society ; then I arranged 
 to be admitted to the Workers' Club at the same time as
 
 2Q4 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 he was. Each time he speaks there, I applaud him, 
 intoxicate him with enthusiasm. That is my own poor 
 way of serving the country. I am sure that M. Philippe 
 Cayol, encouraged by me, will accomplish great things." 
 
 " I understand, I understand," murmured M. de Cazalis. 
 
 Matheus continued declaiming. 
 
 "We will raise barricades, it is I who insist on it, 
 because barricades are necessary to M. Philippe Cayol's 
 glory. The people have laboured enough. Is it not so ? 
 The aristocrats must work in their turn. A few bullets 
 will set everything in order. M. Philippe Cayol will 
 march at the head of his friends, the working-men : he 
 will lead them on to fortune, unless a gendarme takes 
 him by the collar and drags him before the judges at the 
 assizes, who will certainly show the bad taste to sentence 
 him to transportation." 
 
 The ex-deputy was beside himself with delight. The 
 grimaces with which Matheus accompanied his speech, 
 now amused him. He pressed his hands and repeated 
 effusively : 
 
 "Thanks, thanks, I will reward you, you shall be rich." 
 
 For a moment Matheus continued standing in his 
 triumphant attitude. Then he burst out into a peal of 
 laughter. 
 
 "Eh! What think you?" he exclaimed, " the trick's done?" 
 
 He had the manners of a mountebank about him, and 
 was delighted at the scene with which he had accompanied 
 the news he brought. At last master and valet seated 
 themselves and talked in an undertone. 
 
 "You understand me," said the latter. "We have got 
 M. Philippe, who is behaving like a child. Trust in me. 
 I will make him do something extravagant which he'll 
 pay dearly for." 
 
 " But if you follow him step by step, he must recog- 
 nise you. 1 ' 
 
 " Eh ! no, he only saw me once, in the evening at 
 Saint Barnabe. Besides, I have purchased a wig of a 
 bright red colour, which gives me a capital revolutionary 
 appearance. Ah ! what simpletons these democrats are, 
 my dear master! They talk of justice, duty, equality;
 
 MATHEUS BECOMES A REPUBLICAN. 295 
 
 they have an air of honesty that irritates me. I bet they'd 
 massacre me, if they were aware I was working for you. 
 You will never recompense me sufficiently largely, for the 
 sacrifice I am making in consenting to pass for one of 
 theirs." 
 
 " And if the Liberal party wins the day ? " asked M. de 
 Cazalis, who had been thinking. Matheus looked at his 
 master stupefied. 
 
 " What do you say ? " he answered, twitting him. " Then 
 do you fancy they are so fond as all that of the Republic 
 at Marseilles? Listen to this. What ever happens the 
 Liberals will be beaten in this good city. Have no fear. 
 If Cayol can be caught in some fray, his business will be 
 settled. Before a fortnight's over our merchants will have 
 had enough of liberty, and will want to strangle all those 
 who serve it out to them." 
 
 The ex-deputy remembered the manoeuvres that had 
 brought about his election and could not repress a smile. 
 His acolyte was right: where money is all-powerful, Re- 
 publican ideas do not flourish. 
 
 "I have no need," continued Matheus, "to expose my 
 entire plan to you. Remain quiet and I feel sure of 
 handing father and son over to you. We will begin the 
 expedition to Saint Barnabe again, but in a more intelli- 
 gent manner." 
 
 And as his master renewed his thanks he bluntly added : 
 
 " But look here, you must not have me collared with 
 the other Republicans to get rid of me ? I am compro- 
 mising myself, and require a guarantee. Write me a letter 
 instructing me to watch over Philippe Cayol. In that 
 way you become my accomplice. I will return you that 
 letter in exchange for a sum of money, which we will 
 arrange between us, in payment for my services." 
 
 M. de Cazalis consented to everything. He could not 
 for the matter of that do otherwise, and he felt he would 
 always have power over Matheus on account of the money. 
 
 The latter before leaving, urged him to remain quiet in 
 his hotel as he wished to act alone.
 
 296 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE REPUBLIC AT MARSEILLES. 
 
 THE Republic was at last solemnly proclaimed on the 
 Cannebiere, on the dull, wet morning of Tuesday, Febru- 
 ary 29th. At the very moment when the former authori- 
 ties were divesting themselves of office, the temporary 
 Commissary that Paris had sent to Marseilles, was descending 
 the Rue d'Aix in a post-chaise. Thus, by a singular chance, 
 during the march past of the troops and the National 
 Guard, the representatives of overthrown Royalty and of 
 the young Republic were brought face to face. 
 
 That day was a grand and solemn one for Philippe. 
 His fondest hopes were realised. For a moment he had 
 feared that the Monarchy might be followed by a Regency. 
 The length of time that the Prefect and Mayor of Mar- 
 seilles had taken to recognise the Revolution, had made 
 him think that the struggle at Paris had perhaps not been 
 decisive. They were gaining time, they were no doubt 
 hoping for a reaction that was not forthcoming. When he 
 heard the new government publicly proclaimed, it seemed 
 to him that the people had just won a grand victory and 
 he firmly believed that the hour of the great democratic 
 cause had arrived. 
 
 But the hopes the young man had formed on hearing 
 those big words, "liberty, equality, fraternity," pronounced, 
 were not long in being dispelled by facts. He fell down 
 from the heights of his humanitarian dreams to the reality 
 of human passions and interests. This terrible fall exas- 
 perated him and drove him to extreme resolutions. 
 
 He had had the simplicity, to imagine that the procla- 
 mation of the Republic would be followed by a great 
 movement, which would carry all the city along with it 
 into a Liberal channel. He was painfully surprised when 
 he perceived that the superior authorities, urged on, no 
 doubt, by the fatality of circumstances, were obliged to 
 make concessions to the reaction. The Conservatives, the 
 Legitimists, themselves, remained in a measure the mas-
 
 THE REPUBLIC AT MARSEILLES. 2Q7 
 
 ters at Marseilles. Creatures of their own occupied official 
 posts and secretly directed public affairs. In a word the 
 city tolerated the new government rather than accepted it. 
 
 When the Republicans understood that they were not 
 victorious, they wished at least to despatch representatives 
 to Paris, who would be firmly resolved to defend the 
 people's interests, and so the ensuing elections absorbed 
 all their power of action. They felt how precious a vic- 
 tory would be to them, and ardently hoped that the 
 deputies would be chosen from their ranks alone. 
 
 These elections were to be held on April 23. During 
 the three weeks preceding that date, Philippe took an 
 active part in the work and manoeuvres of the different 
 clubs. The democratic party had suffered a preliminary 
 check on the occasion of the appointment of a Municipal 
 Commission on which men hostile to the Republic had 
 found seats, notwithstanding the desire openly expressed 
 by the Republicans that they should be excluded. And 
 so the clubs, in order not to be beaten a second time, dis- 
 played great activity and energy. They drew up prelimi- 
 nary lists, instructed the people in their political catechism 
 and strained every nerve to make their cause triumph. 
 
 During these three feverish weeks, Philippe continued 
 to throw dust into his own eyes. He forgot what was 
 the real feeling in the city and would not see the formidable 
 reaction that was surrounding the small group of Liberals. 
 From morn to eve he ran about Marseilles, encouraging 
 some, thanking others and endeavouring to obtain the 
 largest number of votes possible. He undertook, moreover, 
 to sound certain people whom the Republicans wished to 
 make their representatives, and who by reason of their 
 modesty, or from some other cause, remained in the back- 
 ground. Among these was M. Martelly. 
 
 One morning, Philippe went to his office where he was 
 now very rarely seen, and sent to ask the ship-owner for 
 a short interview. M. Martelly received him ;it once. 
 He understood that it was not as one of his staff that the 
 young man came to pay him a visit; he did not allude 
 to his frequent absence, but treated him as a friend, guessing 
 the nature of the errand that brought him to his presence.
 
 298 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 After one or two commonplace sentences, Philippe 
 entered frankly into his business. 
 
 "I have not seen you for some time at the Workers' 
 Club," he said. "You are a member, are you not?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the ship-owner. " I go there very rarely, 
 I think that such gatherings do but little to advance the 
 affairs of liberalism." 
 
 Philippe feigned not to 'hear. 
 
 " Your absence is often regretted," he continued. " Men 
 like you are precious. You were wrong, one of my colleagues 
 said to me yesterday, to have kept in the background on 
 the occasion of the appointment of the Municipal Com- 
 mission, and now that the elections are drawing near you 
 ought to show yourself and lend all the weight of your 
 honourability to the cause we are defending." 
 
 M. Martelly did not answer. He looked his interlocutor 
 in the face, to compel him to make his proposals clear 
 and precise. 
 
 Philippe understood him and conformed with good grace. 
 
 " We are quite disposed to push your candidature for- 
 ward," he continued. "Why do you not place yourself 
 in the ranks? " 
 
 There was a moment's silence during which the ship- 
 owner look grave and sad. 
 
 " Why ? " he answered slowly, " because I am certain 
 beforehand to fail. Allow me to speak to you as a friend, 
 as a father. You are going to your ruin, my son. The 
 Republic will kill you, and you will kill the Republic. 
 You know what my convictions are, you do not doubt, I 
 hope, that I am ready to spend my blood for the triumph 
 of what is right and true. But, really, we do not find 
 ourselves here in a centre where self-sacrifice can be of 
 use. We are vanquished before having fought. I thought 
 for a moment of repairing to Paris, of offering my services 
 to the government, of assisting it both personally and with 
 ray fortune. At Marseilles I have my hands tied. So I 
 have decided to remain aside, for I will not mix in all 
 the dirty business I foresee ahead." 
 
 " Then you are certain the reaction will win the day ? " 
 
 " Yes. If all the cities in the provinces are animated
 
 THE REPUBLIC AT MARSEILLES. 299 
 
 by the same ideas as Marseilles, our Republic will last 
 two or three years at the most, and we shall then soon 
 have a dictator. Interrogate facts and they will answer." 
 
 M. Martelly's grave tone of voice and calm despair 
 produced a most lively impression on Philippe, who was 
 for a moment conscious of the terrible reality. 
 
 "You are, perhaps, right," he answered sadly, "but if 
 young people had your experience, they would cross 
 their arms, and that would look cowardly. You see it 
 is better to struggle. Then, you refuse to put yourself 
 forward ? " 
 
 "No, indeed. If the people think they have need of 
 me, I will respond to their call, whatever happens. 
 Although I feel certain of not succeeding, I do not think 
 I have the right to avoid the requirements of circumstances. 
 I will not retire in presence of a repulse, from the moment 
 Republicans ask me to run the bad chance of that repulse, 
 but I will not be mistaken for one of those ambitious 
 creatures who are stirring up the population at present, 
 win) flatter the Republic as they flattered Royalty, so as 
 to assure their fortune and position. I have kept in the 
 dark up to now so as not to be confused with one of 
 those men, and I wish it to be clearly understood that if 
 I consent to be a candidate it is because people have 
 asked me and I have solicited nothing." 
 
 M. Martelly had raised his voice. Standing up, his eyes 
 sparkling, he accented each word witli vigorous action. 
 Philippe had also left his seat. 
 
 "Come, you arc yourself again," he said, "you will 
 see, all will go well. I am going to tell our friends at 
 once that you accept their mandate. Your name will be 
 placed on the preliminary lists to-day, and it must 
 absolutely come victorious out of the urn." 
 
 "You are young," replied the ship-owner shaking his 
 head ; " you dream with your eyes open. Ah ! my poor 
 child, liberty is very sick. I think we are present at its funeral." 
 
 Philippe drew himself up violently. 
 
 "Well!'' he exclaimed, "if they kill it, we'll take our 
 guns and kill its murderers. It will be civil war, barricades, 
 blood, corpses. So much the worse!"
 
 300 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 He trembled with exasperation. M. Martelly had taken 
 his hands and sought to pacify him. 
 
 "If you make barricades," he said to him, "I will go 
 and place myself between your fire and that of the 
 troops. Blood must not be spilt in the name of brother- 
 hood. No, no; we must have no violence." 
 
 Philippe withdrew. This interview had filled him with 
 sullen uneasiness. The ship-owner's calm reason had 
 thrown cold water, as it were, on his passion. Internally 
 he was in despair, but he continued to busy himself ac- 
 tively with the elections, and when the grand day came 
 he had almost recovered hope, so that the result of the 
 first trial fell upon him like a thunderbolt. All M. Mar- 
 telly's predictions were accomplished. Not only was he 
 not named, but the reactionary party had a complete 
 victory. Out of ten deputies elected, there were barely 
 three Radical republicans, the others belonged to the Con- 
 servative, and particularly to the Legitimist party. 
 
 From that moment Philippe was in a constant state of 
 irritation. He saw clearly how useless his efforts were and 
 yet he gave himself up to an ill-fated task that could 
 only lead to misfortune. Each day the party he sup- 
 ported had to put up with a new defeat. The reaction 
 increased in power, and one newspaper went so far as to 
 openly preach political decentralisation to escape what it 
 termed the Revolutionary dictatorship of Paris. The 
 superior authorities were weak and powerless and con- 
 stantly made concessions. If a king had landed on the 
 Cannebiere he would have been acclaimed by the entire 
 city. 
 
 The Republicans protested in vain against the organi- 
 zation of the National Guard, the companies of which 
 were composed solely of rich bourgeois, and consequently 
 of Conservatives. This organization presented permanent 
 danger of civil war. The day the people and the Na- 
 tional Guard met there would necessarily be a shock. 
 
 Philippe, in his hours of anger and despair, foresaw this 
 fatal meeting, and experienced ghastly delight in thinking 
 of the hand-to-hand struggle. In the meanwhile he 
 fraternized with the people, was at all the banquets and
 
 THE REPUBLIC AT MARSEILLES. 301 
 
 intoxicated himself with rhetoric. After the elections he 
 had resigned his post with M. Martelly. so as to be able 
 to live freely in the streets, amidst the events of each 
 day. He knew not how all this would end, but he nursed 
 the vague hope of a battle out of which the people would 
 issue victorious. Then the Republic would triumph and 
 the working-men would command in their turn. 
 
 Two months passed by and they were in the middle 
 of June. 
 
 Fine and Marius lived in constant alarm. The latter, not 
 daring to lecture his brother any more, owing to his blunt 
 manner, confined himself to watching him on the sly, so 
 as to be always ready to save him from the follies lie 
 might be guilty of. One day as he arrived on the Canne- 
 biere, he found himself face to face with a captain of 
 the National Guard, who was making the new gold braid 
 on his uniform dazzle in the sun. After a moment he 
 recognised Sauvaire. 
 
 The former master-stevedore was beaming. He struck 
 his heel on the pavement in a victorious fashion. At 
 times, when he glanced at his epaulettes out of the corner 
 of his eye, a smile of satisfied vanity hovered round his 
 lips. His sword troubled him somewhat by knocking 
 against his calves; but he held it, leaning his hand on 
 the hilt, with rounded arm. His uniform fitted him tightly 
 in true military style, and if he were bursting in his tunic, 
 he was happy to do so for the welfare of his country. 
 By the way he walked, with his elbows stuck out, one 
 could see he saved France at every ten paces. You 
 could read on his intensely-delighted countenance, child- 
 like joy at being dressed up as a soldier, and a burning 
 desire to be taken seriously. 
 
 His meeting with Marius at first rather embarrassed 
 him. He feared the latter might remember the past, the 
 time when he frequented the gambling hells, and that he 
 would make fun at finding him in uniform. He looked 
 at him uneasily, dreading to see his dignity compromised. 
 When he perceived the young man suppressed a slight 
 smile, he thought it well to show himself off with all the 
 grace of his rank of officer.
 
 302 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " Eh ! " he exclaimed, in a military voice, brief and 
 resounding. " Eh ! it's my young friend ! How are you ? 
 It's centuries since I saw you. Ah! How many events, 
 good heavens ! How many events ! " 
 
 He spoke so loud that the passers-by turned round. 
 This attention bestowed on his personality flattered him 
 enormously. He shook himself in delight, producing a 
 clanking sound of steel, and cast the reflex of his stripes 
 and epaulettes in the eyes of the crowd. 
 
 As Marius pressed his hand without answering, he 
 imagined he was confounded by the magnificence of his 
 costume. He took his arm with a protecting air and 
 began to walk up the Cannebiere, deigning to give him 
 proofs of friendship. 
 
 "Hey! you stare at me?" he continued. "You are 
 surprised to see me in the National Guard ? What could 
 I do ? They so begged me, so implored me. that in the 
 end I accepted. You understand, I would a thousand 
 times sooner live quietly at home. But in these difficult 
 times good citizens have duties to perform. They had 
 need of me and I cculd not refuse." 
 
 He lied with the most bare-faced self-possession. It 
 was he who had begged for the post of captain with 
 joined hands. He wanted golden epaulettes: on that 
 condition only did he consent to serve the country. 
 
 Marius sought for an answer and finding nothing, ended 
 by murmuring: 
 
 "Yes, yes, we are in difficult times." 
 
 " But we are here ! " cried Sauvaire, placing his hand 
 on his sword. " They will have to pass over our corpses 
 before they can trouble the tranquillity of the land. Fear 
 nothing, cheer-up your wives and children : the National 
 Guard will not betray its mandate." 
 
 He delivered this like a speech learnt by heart. Marius, 
 to put him out of countenance, was tempted to ask him 
 for news of Clairon. 
 
 " Observe all this population," continued Sauvaire, "how 
 peaceful, what faith it has in our vigilance and courage!" 
 
 He stopped, and continued in his old tone of naivete 
 and self-satisfaction :
 
 THE REPUBLIC AT MARSEILLES. 303 
 
 " What do you think of my uniform ? Haven't I a 
 martial air? The epaulettes, you know, cost me a tre- 
 mendous lot of money." 
 
 " You look capital," answered Marius, " and I confess your 
 unexpected appearance produced great impression on me. 
 And what are your opinions?" 
 
 Sauvaire appeared full of importance. 
 
 "My opinions?" he repeated, thinking what that could 
 mean. "Ah! yes, what I think of the Republic, that's 
 it, is it not? Well, I think the Republic is an excel- 
 lent thing. Only, order, you understand. The National 
 Guard was formed to preserve order. Order. I insist on 
 that." 
 
 He swung his body about, triumphant at having been 
 able to find he had an opinion. At the bottom of his 
 heart he felt esteem for the Republic, which had given 
 him epaulettes; but he had been told that if the Repu- 
 blicans were victorious they would rob him of his money, 
 and, therefore, he detested the Republicans. These con- 
 tradictory sentiments had to get on together as best they 
 could, but for the matter of that he never asked himself 
 what his convictions were. 
 
 He went a little way further with Marius and then left 
 him with the remark, uttered with much importance, that 
 his duty called him elsewhere. But it was only a sham 
 departure, he turned on his heels and came back to 
 whisper to the young man in a confidential tone: 
 
 "Ah! I forgot. Just tell your brother that he compro- 
 mises himself with that lot of tatterdemalions whom lie 
 drags along with him everywhere. Advise him to give 
 up the rabble and obtain a captain's commission like me. 
 It's more prudent." 
 
 And, as Marius, without replying, pressed his hand to 
 thank him, he added like the good fellow he was at 
 heart: 
 
 " If I can be of use to you in any row, count on me. 
 I feel just as much inclined to serve my friends as my 
 country. I am at your service, you understand." 
 
 He was no longer acting. Marius thanked him again 
 and they parted the best friends in the world.
 
 304 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 In the evening, the young man spoke to Fine and his 
 brother of the meeting, and amused them by a descriptive 
 account of the triumphant attitude of the former master- 
 stevedore, but at last Philippe became irritated. 
 
 "And it's to such men as this that the tranquillity of 
 the city is entrusted!" he exclaimed. "These gentlemen 
 are well dressed, these gentlemen play at soldiers. Ah ! 
 let them beware ! they may, perhaps, be compelled to per- 
 form their part seriously. The people are tired of their 
 tomfoolery and vanity." 
 
 "Hold your tongue," said Marius, severely. "These 
 men may be ridiculous, but one doesn't kill one's fellow 
 countrymen." 
 
 Philippe rose and continued with greater violence: 
 
 "The country is not with them. It is the workmen, 
 the workers who are the country. The bourgeois have 
 guns, the people have none. The people are being 
 guarded, musket to the shoulder, like wild beasts. Well ! 
 one of these days the beasts will show their teeth and 
 devour their guardians. That's all." 
 
 And he abruptly went upstairs to his room. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 WHAT MATHEUS UNDERSTOOD BY STRATEGY. 
 
 MATHEUS was decidedly a pure Republican, a radical with 
 whom there was no joking. His forehead was half covered 
 by his carroty wig, and when he shook his head in the 
 clubs, it resembled a torch throwing out a reddish light. 
 He was always on the side of the extreme party, and sup- 
 ported any measure likely to cause disorder in the city. 
 He had ended by inspiring a sort of respectful terror, and 
 his advice was listened to with admiration, and fear. On 
 the day following the elections he had spoken plainly of 
 setting fire to Marseilles, and this had made him extremely 
 popular among the exalted liberals. 
 
 He often met Philippe, but avoided becoming intimate 
 with him, confining himself to keeping a watchful eye on
 
 WHAT MATHEUS UNDERSTOOD BY STRATEGY. 305 
 
 him from a distance and to taking note of the fiery 
 language that sometimes escaped him. He wanted to see 
 him mixed up in a nice little conspiracy. So long as the 
 young man limited himself to declaiming in the clubs, 
 taking part in the banquets and popular manifestations, 
 he felt he could do nothing against him, and it was for 
 that reason that he argued in favour of war and barricades. 
 He hoped that at the first shot, Philippe would rush down 
 and join in the street fight, and be arrested and condemned 
 as an insurgent. 
 
 Besides, civil war formed part of Matheus' calculations. 
 Having promised his master to hand over to him father 
 and son, he relied on the tumult of the insurrection to 
 steal little Joseph, while Philippe would be either killed 
 or imprisoned. He had arranged in his head a plan which, 
 according to his idea, could not fail to succeed. But it 
 was a question of persuading the people to fight. They 
 seemed to him quite disposed to do so, and he had made 
 up his mind that if ever a shot were fired, he would sow 
 such discord that an encounter would be inevitable. 
 
 During this time M. de Cazalis was becoming impatient. 
 For three months he had waited in vain for Matheus to 
 accomplish his promises. When the latter came secretly 
 in the evening to give him an account of the events of 
 the day, he complained bitterly of the long delay that 
 obliged him to live in hiding at his mansion. 
 
 " But, sir," said the spy, with his insolent laugh, " I 
 cannot make the barricades all alone ! Allow the insurrection 
 to ripen. Why, you're more of a Republican than myself. 
 One accustoms oneself to everything, is it not so ? " 
 
 One night Matheus suddenly burst in upon the ex-deputy 
 exclaiming: 
 
 " Faith, I believe we shall fight to-morrow. I have 
 just spoken for two hours at the club." 
 
 He was in high spirits, and already saw in the near future 
 the money his master had promised him if he succeeded. 
 The latter pressed him with questions, insisting at length 
 on facts. 
 
 " Look here," answered Matheus. " The Marseillais would 
 never, perhaps, have moved, but they have just had the 
 
 20
 
 306 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 visit of some Parisians who were present at the events in 
 February, and that has put some courage into them. You 
 understand, I am speaking of those Parisians destined 
 for the war in Italy, and who, robbed on the way by 
 one of their chiefs, reached Marseilles stripped of everything. 
 
 " But those Parisians have gone, " interrupted M. de Cazalis 
 
 " Yes, but they have left a revolutionary current here. 
 There was a gathering in their favour in front of the Prefecture 
 which almost came to blows. The people wanted the 
 city to come to their assistance and the working classes, 
 who are very discontented, will make a great manifesta- 
 tion to-morrow which I trust will end badly." 
 
 " But what do the workmen want then ? " inquired the 
 ex-deputy. 
 
 Matheus then posted him up in the actual state of 
 affairs, which was very serious. The great danger came 
 from the workmen employed at the National workshops, 
 which had been established with much difficulty at Mar- 
 seilles and were to cause irreparable misfortune. The only 
 work that could be given to the people, by the terms of 
 the decree of the Provisional Government, was the digging 
 out of the canal, then in progress, which at the present 
 day brings the waters of the Durance to the city. There 
 was quite a multitude of workmen there, employed 
 indiscriminately at a task other than their particular 
 trades, who for the most part cursed the bread they 
 earned and kept the spark of revolt always alight. 
 
 The discontent of these toilers arose from the inequality 
 the government had established between them and their 
 brethren at Paris. The latter, according to the decree, 
 had only to work for ten hours, while those in the 
 departments laboured for eleven hours. In presence of 
 the incessant complaints of the Marseillais workmen the 
 commissary, fearing the exasperation of this ill-disciplined 
 body of men, had thought right to make use of his discre- 
 tional powers and had reduced the day's labour at Mar- 
 seilles to ten hours. 
 
 Unfortunately all the heads of workshops would not 
 accept this reduction. Some continued to insist on their 
 workmen doing eleven hours; others deducted the value
 
 WHAT MATHEUS UNDERSTOOD BY STRATEGY. 307 
 
 of the hour's work that was not done. This gave rise to 
 constant rebellion and a permanent feeling of exasperation 
 which could only end in a violent crisis. Up to that time 
 the complaints of the workmen had not met with any 
 serious result; the statements of facts they had drawn up 
 had had no effect; their manifestations had been met by 
 idle promises which were broken as soon as their backs 
 were turned. They wanted to finish the business, they 
 wished for justice. 
 
 On Tuesday June 2Oth, the evening preceding that on 
 which Matheus had given these details to his master, the 
 delegates of the corporations had assembled to discuss the 
 advisability of making a grand manifestation. They had 
 almost all voted agairst it, foreseeing, no doubt, the sanguin- 
 ary struggle it would result in. 
 
 " The delegates seem to me clever and prudent persons," 
 said Matheus in conclusion ; " but fortunately the workmen 
 are far too irritated to listen to them. If there happen 
 to be some cool heads among the latter, there are also 
 many fiery spirits who dream of getting the upper hand 
 by force. I think I can promise you a nice little insur- 
 rection. I know a great number of workmen will not 
 abide by the vote of the delegates and have decided that 
 the manifestation shall be held in spite of it. It will be 
 extraordinary if some circumstance docs not bring about 
 a struggle. You shall see how I will warm it up for you." 
 
 M. de Cazalis listened to the spy with delight. 
 
 "Are your plans all formed?" he inquired. " You are 
 certain Cayol will compromise himself and that you will 
 succeed in gaining possession of the child?" 
 
 "Eh! don't be uneasy," answered the other. " That is 
 my business. If there be a fight, Master Philippe will be 
 in the first rank of the insurgents, of that you may be- 
 sure ; and as to the child, he will be in your possession 
 before evening. These workmen are perfect asses, they're 
 going to get killed and imprisoned for nonsense. Ah ! 
 the Republic is a great joke! Good night, to-morrow 
 morning I will call and give you the day's programme." 
 
 Matheus left M. de Cazalis, and remained until night in 
 the streets, listening to what was said and endeavouring
 
 308 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 to foresee events. A rumour that was abroad caused him 
 anxiety: it was pretended that the Government Commissary 
 did not seem hostile to the manifestation. It was affirmed 
 that he had received the visit of some delegates, who had 
 hastened to inform him they were powerless to keep back 
 the crowd of workmen, and he had let them understand 
 that he was not displeased at this step, which might enable 
 him to take more stringent measures against the refractory 
 heads of the workshops. It was even added that he had 
 already fixed the itinerary the column was to follow while 
 he received the delegates. 
 
 Matheus went to bed in despair and furious against the 
 Republic. 
 
 " What a lot of cowards ! " he murmured, " they will 
 not dare exchange a shot ! But fight, you brutes ! You 
 ruin me if you do not. They shake their fists at one an- 
 other, the poor want to eat up the rich, and they always end 
 by hugging each other. It's disgusting. You will see that 
 to-morrow, the quarrel will end in a banquet, at which 
 Commissary and workmen will get an indigestion from 
 eating too much pork. However, we shall see." 
 
 As soon as he awoke, he hastened to the vicinity of 
 the Prefecture. It was Thursday the 22nd. The building 
 was surrounded by troops. 
 
 "And, on we go!" Matheus murmured to himself with 
 lively delight. "I knew they'd fight! I'll go and find 
 my friends the workmen to throw them on those bayonets." 
 
 But before withdrawing, he mingled with the groups 
 and found that the Commissary seemed to have repented 
 of authorising the manifestation. A message had been 
 sent to a few companies of the National Guard on the 
 previous evening, and the line had been called out. No 
 detail escaped the spy, and he remarked that no Repub- 
 lican company was present among the citizen soldiers. 
 Sauvaire was parading at the corner of two streets. 
 
 Matheus hastened to the Boulevard Chave, where another 
 meeting of the delegates was to be held. They declared 
 themselves opposed to the manifestation, as had occurred 
 two days before, and a certain number of them even said 
 that the workmen whom they represented, had that morning
 
 WHAT MATHEUS UNDERSTOOD BY STRATEGY. 309 
 
 gone to work as usual. As the men who were peacefully 
 disposed were about to withdraw, those who wished for 
 the manifestation at any price, urged on and excited by 
 Matheus, persuaded their comrades to join them. A 
 nucleus was formed, which went on increasing and in the 
 end became a regular crowd. The people were started 
 and would now not stop. 
 
 When Matheus understood that the multitude required 
 no more urging-on, he allowed it to increase by itself and 
 roll towards the Prefecture. During that time he completed 
 his plan of campaign. 
 
 He wished first of all to give M. de Cazalis news, as he 
 had promised. Nine o'clock was striking. Thinking aright 
 that he would not be allowed to cross the Place Saint- 
 Ferreol, which was then full of troops, he went to the 
 Quay du Canal, took the Rue de Breteuil and found 
 himself within a few steps of his master's mansion. He 
 had to pass by the house inhabited by the Cayols, which 
 stood on the Cours Bonaparte, close to the residence 
 of M. de Cazalis. He cast a triumphant look at the 
 structure as he went by. 
 
 His plan would depend on circumstances. He relied 
 on the troubles of the insurrection to steal Joseph. No 
 doubt Marius would go in search of his brother at the 
 first shot; and during that time it would be easy for him 
 to tear the child from Fine's arms. Besides, he was in 
 hopes that as the Prefecture was near, all the quarter would 
 take fire: perhaps, even, barricades might be raised in the 
 neighbouring streets ; in a word he awaited some event 
 that would facilitate the capture of the little one, and he 
 vowed to himself he would act boldly, and risk all to 
 succeed. 
 
 As he took a last glance at the door, recalling to memory 
 the inside of the house, which he had been studying for 
 some time, he saw a young woman leave it rapidly, holding 
 a child in her arms. He recognised Fine and little Joseph. 
 This sudden exit alarmed him, and he proceeded to 
 follow the young woman. 
 
 Fine walked along hurriedly, without turning her head, 
 impatient to arrive at her destination. She went down
 
 310 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 the Rue de Breteuil, up the Cannebiere to the Place Royale 
 and entered the narrow streets of the old town. Matheus 
 continued hurrying along behind her, wondering where she 
 could be going to, and they thus reached the Place aux 
 CEufs together. There, Fine suddenly disappeared in a 
 house, and Matheus remained for a few minutes in the 
 centre of the square, perplexed, seeking to turn the pre- 
 cautions the Cayols were taking to his advantage. 
 
 Marius, who had been warned by his brother on the 
 previous evening, of the troubles that might occur in the 
 neighbourhood of the Prefecture, had decided not to leave 
 Joseph in the house on the Cours Bonaparte. He had 
 vague fears of a surprise ; he felt that M. de Cazalis must 
 be there, in the dark, watching for the first opportunity 
 that occurred. When there is fighting in the streets, there 
 are often burglaries in the houses. 
 
 Marius consequently thought it would not be prudent 
 to keep the child in the room where they would certainly 
 come to look for him in case an attempt were made to 
 gain possession of him, and he arranged with Fine that 
 they would hide him somewhere else, no later than the 
 next morning. For that purpose they selected the little 
 lodging the former flower-girl had long occupied on the 
 Place aux CEufs and where her brother Cadet still resided. 
 While Marius was running about the streets to watch over 
 Philippe, his wife had just come to seek refuge with the 
 child in a corner of Marseilles where she never thought 
 she could be discovered. As she ascended the stairs she 
 felt quite happy, saying to herself that she and the little 
 one were saved. 
 
 Matheus, after having taken two or three turns under 
 the trees, approached a post of National Guards who 
 were at a corner of the square. This post was occupied 
 by men belonging to a Republican company and the spy 
 saw at once with whom he had to deal. 
 
 " It seems there will be fighting opposite the Prefec- 
 ture," he remarked to the lieutenant. 
 
 The latter feigned not to hear. After an instant Matheus 
 continued : 
 
 " This would be a splendid place for barricades ! Just
 
 THE RIOT. 311 
 
 look, one would almost think the ground had been 
 specially prepared for them." 
 
 The lieutenant glanced complaisantly around him and 
 ended by making up his mind to speak. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he said, "there would only be a few narrow 
 lanes to block. The workmen are our brothers, we will 
 not fight against them." 
 
 Matheus, whom the lieutenant had mistaken for a navvy, 
 gave him a vigorous shake of the hand and hurried 
 away. Chance had served him well : his plan of campaign 
 was now complete. When he reached the mansion of 
 M. de Cazalis he was panting for breath. 
 
 "All is going on well!" he exclaimed. "I'll be answer- 
 able for success !" 
 
 He then noticed that M. de Cazalis was wearing the 
 uniform of a National Guard. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this masquerade?" he inquired 
 in surprise. " I came to advise you not to show yourself," 
 
 "I cannot keep still," answered the ex-deputy; "I'm 
 too impatient, I must see for myself. Let us go down." 
 
 They went down and Matheus related his morning's 
 work to his master. As they approached the Prefecture, 
 they heard a dull and terrible sound, the first roar of the riot. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 THE RIOT. 
 
 WHILST Matheus had been following Fine and had called 
 to inform M. de Cazalis of what he had done, the column 
 of workmen was descending towards the Cannebiere. This 
 column, which had started from the railway station, then 
 only comprised a few hundred workmen ; but as it ad- 
 vanced, it recruited all whom it met on its road. Men 
 and women, the floating population of the streets, were 
 dragged along by this human torrent which poured down 
 from the heights of Marseilles. When the manifestation 
 issued from the Rue de Noailles, it extended to the bot- 
 tom of the Cours like an immense flood. Thousands of
 
 312 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 heads were th ere, swaying about like the waves of a human 
 ocean. 
 
 A dull, confused sound, similar to the harsh voice of 
 the sea, ran through the ranks of this multitude. Still, 
 it was frightfully calm. It advanced gloomy and mute, 
 without uttering a cry, without doing any damage. It 
 fell upon, swarmed upon Marseilles, it seemed unconscious 
 of its acts and appeared to obey natural laws of downfall 
 and passion. An enormous rock hurled from the plain, 
 would thus have rolled to the Port. 
 
 White and blue blouses predominated in the ranks. 
 There were a few bright-coloured skirts of women, and 
 from distance to distance, the black spots of coats : dark 
 clothes worn by men whom the people seemed to obey. 
 The crowd descended the Cannebiere with a threatening 
 murmur, passing between the rows of houses like a running 
 stream full of multi-coloured reflex. 
 
 Philippe marched at the head amidst a lot of workmen, 
 with his head thrown back and a harsh, resolute expres- 
 sion on his countenance. He wore a black frock coat 
 which he had buttoned up closely, and which fitted him 
 in at the waist like a military tunic. One felt he was 
 ready for the struggle, that he awaited and desired it. 
 His eye was clear, his lips were firmly set together and 
 he uttered not a word. The pale, silent workmen by whom 
 he was surrounded, glanced at him from time to time 
 and seemed to be awaiting his orders. 
 
 As the column entered the Rue Saint Ferreol, there was 
 a slight tumult; it halted for one or two minutes, then 
 marched on again. The street, as far as the square where 
 it ends, was empty, a few shopkeepers had put up their 
 shutters; people were looking out from the windows; there 
 was a deathlike silence, broken only by the deep sound 
 of the tramp of the crowd. 
 
 In the middle of the empty street and at the corner 
 of a narrow thoroughfare that crossed it, those who were 
 in the first rank perceived a short, delicate-looking man 
 awaiting the column. As soon as Philippe was near him, 
 he recognised his brother. Marius without uttering a 
 word, placed himself beside him and walked quietly amidst
 
 THE RIOT. 313 
 
 the rioters. The two brothers exchanged a simple look. 
 The people must have thought they were strangers to 
 each other. 
 
 And the human flood continued to roll on thus to the 
 Place Saint Ferreol. 
 
 There, at a few yards from the square, further advance 
 was arrested by a cordon of troops. The crowd was 
 without arms, and the soldiers' bayonets glittered in the 
 sun. Murmurs of surprise and anger ran through the first 
 ranks and rapidly spread from one end to the other of 
 the column, the tail of which was still on the Cannebiere. 
 The workmen said in a low angry tone that they wanted 
 to slaughter them, that they must be surrounded by troops 
 and that the manifestation had only been authorized, in 
 order that they might be massacred at ease. 
 
 While these murmurs were increasing, four delegates left 
 the ranks and asked to be taken to the Commissary of 
 the Government, as had been arranged the day before. 
 They had hardly disappeared behind the line of soldiers 
 when an irreparable event occurred attended by most 
 sanguinary consequences. 
 
 When those at the tail of the column heard talk of 
 troops under arms, bayonets and masscare, they apparentlv 
 thought that those on ahead were being slaughtered, and 
 began to push furiously forward. 
 
 Under the impulse of the irresistible movement of this 
 mass of men, the group surrounding Philippe were compelled 
 to advance a few steps. With their arms crossed over 
 their breasts, to show they had no intention of making 
 an attack, and that they were simply yielding to pressure 
 from behind, the workmen arrived in this way before the 
 soldiers. An officer seeing them approach lost his head 
 and abruptly gave the command to lower bayonets. And 
 the bright sharp weapons came down and faced the people. 
 
 A desperate attempt was made to retire. Philippe and 
 those around him threw themselves backward endeavouring 
 to stem the enormous, crushing crowd that were pushing 
 them on to death. But this living wall could not be 
 resisted. It advanced solid as a wall of stone. The workmen 
 forcibly, fatally, reached the points of the bayonets which
 
 314 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 the soldiers held ready for them. They saw these points 
 at their breasts and felt them enter, little by little, into 
 their flesh. 
 
 It is related that while the general commanding made a 
 despairing gesture and ordered the bayonets to be raised 
 a clear voice was heard to shout from the Place Saint 
 Ferreol: "Stick those ruffians! Stick them!" And, from 
 the windows of a neighbouring aristocratic club, well dressed 
 gentlemen applauded at the sight of the people's blood 
 flowing, as if they had been in a box at a theatre and 
 were amused at the by-play of an actor. 
 
 The workmen, at the first bayonet wounds, uttered 
 cries of rage and terror. This crowd which had hither- 
 to been silent, became mad at being attacked without 
 any legal warning. It had only its fists to protect it 
 against the muskets by which it was threatened. 
 
 Philippe was not wounded thanks to Marius, who held 
 him back at the moment when he was committing the 
 folly of throwing himself forward with clenched fists. A 
 few workmen around him were slightly hurt. One only 
 had his arm run through. 
 
 At the general's word of command, the soldiers had 
 raised their bayonets and retired step by step, but the 
 crowd had suddenly stopped on realizing the fact that it 
 was without arms A shudder ran through the column 
 from one end to the other. All at once it disbanded, 
 rushing into the cross streets with the cry : " Vengeance ! 
 Vengeance ! They are murdering our brothers ! " 
 
 For an instant there was a terrible noise; then the 
 clamour died away: the workmen went off in search of 
 arms, calling for assistance, spreading terror and anger in 
 each street and always uttering the painful and formidable 
 cry: "They are murdering our brothers! Vengeance! 
 Vengeance ! " 
 
 At that moment M. de Cazalis and Matheus were 
 descending the Cours Bonaparte. The sullen rumble that 
 they heard was the rush of the mob. Matheus understood 
 that here was a rupture and joyfully rubbed his hands. 
 To ascertain the truth he stopped a peaceful bourgeois 
 who was flying in terror, impatient to shut himself up at home.
 
 THE RIOT. 315 
 
 "Oh! sir," he stammered out in answer to the inquiry, 
 " they are killing one another over there. The soldiers have 
 charged the people, and the people will set fire to the 
 city, that's sure." 
 
 And he fled, fancying he saw the flames behind him. 
 
 "Well! What did I tell you?" said Matheus to M. de 
 Cazalis, "I knew very well we should be able to take 
 advantage of circumstances. Here we are in the midst 
 of a revolution. We must attend to our little business." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " asked the ex-deputy in 
 an undertone. 
 
 " Oh ! what I am going to do is very simple. Now the 
 people are mad, I can lead them along as I like. It will 
 suffice if they fight at the place I shall take them to." 
 
 And as M. de Cazalis did not understand but gave him 
 an inquiring look, the spy added : 
 
 " Trust to me. I have not time to explain all to you. 
 A nnal word : I advise you to take advantage of your 
 disguise to mix with a company of National Guards. If 
 you see a barricade anywhere, march with the troops that 
 attack it." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Didn't you tell me you were impatient and curious ? 
 Then do what I tell you: you will be in the first row." 
 
 Matheus chuckled and looking his master straight in 
 the face, continued : 
 
 " You understand, you might find Philippe at the end 
 of the barrel of your musket. Don't go and miss him ; 
 and no bad joke, don't fire at me so as to free yourself 
 of my personality. That's understood. When the barricade 
 is taken I'll show you how I work." 
 
 Matheus hurried rapidly away. He was impatient to 
 go and embroil matters. As he followed the Rue Grignan 
 to enter the Rue Saint Ferreol and mix with the retiring 
 workmen, he saw two men talking together on the pavement, 
 and recognised Marius and Philippe. 
 
 "Wait, wait," he murmured as he ran along, "I think I 
 shall be able to make you come and fight with us." 
 
 Marius was beseeching Philippe not to compromise 
 himself any further. He reminded him of his son, of the
 
 3l6 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 happiness of all of them, and as his brother showed signs 
 of impatience he exclaimed : 
 
 " Well ! So let it be ! let us not speak of ourselves. But 
 do you not see that the insurrection which is about to 
 break out cannot succeed ? The desire of a good patriot 
 should be to avoid the effusion of blood, when fighting 
 is contrary to the interests of all. I think I serve the 
 country better than you, by preaching peace." 
 
 "They have tried to murder our brothers," answered 
 Philippe, in a sullen voice, " we must have vengeance. We 
 did not commence. Look here, shall I tell you? We 
 don't want any more of this bourgeois Republic; we want 
 a Republic of our own, a Republic of the people. Don't 
 answer, it's useless. If the people fight, I shall fight." 
 
 " But, unfortunate being that you are ! you are ruining 
 yourself and your friends themselves by encouraging 
 them with your presence, by leading them to certain im- 
 prisonment. Remember what M. Martelly told you." 
 
 Marius, for more than a quarter of an hour, endeavoured 
 to influence his brother with arguments such as these, 
 but the latter stood there with cloudy brow and sparkling 
 eyes, and hardly listened to him. All at once Philippe seized 
 his arm and compelled him to be silent. The sharp crack 
 of musketry was heard at the bottom of the Rue Saint 
 Ferreol. 
 
 "Do you hear?" he exclaimed, excitedly, " they're firing 
 on unarmed men who ask for justice ! And you wish me 
 to stand by quietly, while that is going on, you want me 
 to be a coward ! " 
 
 He went a few steps ; then, turning round, continued 
 more softly. 
 
 "If I'm killed you'll watch over Joseph. Adieu!" 
 
 Marius hastened to join him. 
 
 "I'll go with you," he said quietly. 
 
 The two young men descended the Reu Saint Ferreol in 
 all haste. On reaching the Rue Vacon, they heard the 
 firing on their right and proceeded rapidly to the Rue de 
 Rome. There, they were in the midst of the battle. 
 
 Matheus, on mixing with the workmen had begun to 
 shout for vengeance louder than the others, and thus
 
 THE RIOT. 317 
 
 gathered a group of the most hot-headed round him. This 
 party descended the Rue Saint Ferreol singing the Mar- 
 seillaise, and ended by stopping at the corner of the Rue 
 Pizancon, to listen to Matheus, who demanded silence with 
 a motion of the hand. 
 
 "My friends," he said, "it's stupid to sing, we must act. 
 If we run about the streets in this way we shall meet with 
 soldiers who will either kill us or make us prisoners." 
 
 The crowd uttered a cry of rage. 
 
 " Let us avenge our brothers," resumed Matheus. " Blood 
 calls for blood." 
 
 "Yes, yes!" howled the workmen. "To the barricades! 
 to the barricades !" 
 
 At that moment Matheus glanced towards the upper 
 part of the street and perceived a company of National 
 Guards advancing with a heavy tread. 
 
 "You see, brothers," he exclaimed, "they are sending 
 these men to massacre us. We will defend ourselves to 
 the last!" 
 
 The people were intoxicated, they shook their fists at the 
 National Guards and looked for stones to throw at them. 
 
 "No, not here, we could not hold out for five minutes," 
 said Matheus. "Come!" 
 
 The workmen followed him. They wanted a chief and 
 they chose this man because he spoke of massacre. They 
 ran to the Rue de Rome. Just then three large empty 
 carts were passing along the street. The spy sprang to 
 the head of the first horse, and notwithstanding the carter's 
 cries ordered his men to unharness it. Then, when that 
 was done, he said to the driver : 
 
 "Take away your horses. The people want the carts. 
 They'll pay you if they conquer." 
 
 Turning towards the crowd he pointed to the Rue de 
 la Palud which fared them and added : 
 
 " Quick, shove these carts along and turn them over 
 on the side, across this street. Search in the adjoining 
 shops and see if you can't find something to add to the 
 barricade." 
 
 In five minutes the obstruction was raised. It was 
 only composed of three carts and a few empty barrels
 
 318 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 which had been found in a neighbouring cellar. It 
 was foolish to think seriously of defending themselves 
 there. But the rioters were mad with irritation, they did 
 not even trouble to reflect that they had no arms, and 
 were about to be riddled with bullets without being able 
 to respond. 
 
 Matheus silently enjoyed the fun. At the bottom of 
 his heart he was not sorry to get some of his good 
 friends, the workmen, killed, for they had been wearying 
 him profoundly during the past four months with their 
 humanitarian speeches. Besides, there must be at least 
 one corpse in order for his plans to be successful, and 
 for that reason he had taken care that the barricade should 
 be full of holes so that the bullets might pass through it. 
 
 A deathlike silence reigned around. The workmen, 
 lying flat on the ground, waited. All of a sudden, they 
 heard the heavy, measured tread of a company advancing 
 in the Rue de Rome. Then only did they remember that 
 they had no arms. Furiously they, commenced tearing 
 the stones out of the road : flat, sharp stones that would 
 play terrible havoc. 
 
 The heavy, measured tread became more and more 
 distinct. At last, the company which the workmen had 
 already seen behind them, appeared at the corner of the 
 Rue de Rome. Captain Sauvaire who was marching 
 at the head, stopped anxiously before the barricade. 
 At the same moment a shower of stones fell on the 
 National Guards. Men were wounded and the captain's 
 shako was smashed in with a large flint. 
 
 The company retreated a few steps at this sudden 
 attack. Stones continued to arrive falling one by one 
 into the body of men with dull thuds. Then a police 
 commissary left the ranks and read aloud the three, 
 legal summonses to disperse, amidst profound silence, 
 The rioters, who had expended all their store of stones 
 were again lying down tearing up the road and preparing 
 for the struggle, without even listening to the summonses. 
 
 As they rose, the police commissary withdrew, the 
 muzzles of the muskets were lowered and a shower of 
 bullets passed over the barricade. They had only just
 
 THE RIOT. 319 
 
 time to stoop down, to hide in the recesses of the door- 
 ways, anywhere, in fact, where they could find shelter. 
 None of them were wounded. Their rage was such that 
 they did not think of flight; they continued throwing 
 stones, hiding themselves as best they could. The badly- 
 aimed shots passed over their heads or were lost at the 
 base of the barricade. 
 
 Matheus had prudently found shelter behind a huge 
 cask. From there he encouraged his men, furious at the 
 clumsiness of the National Guards and endeavouring to 
 place the workmen in the line of fire. 
 
 He murmured between his teeth : 
 
 "You'll see that not one of those wretches will get 
 killed!" 
 
 He was not without feeling a certain terror. He knew 
 better than anyone that the barricade would be captured 
 as soon as the National Guards chose, and he disliked 
 falling into their hands, as that would have put a sudden 
 stop to the exploits he meditated. He wanted a corpse, 
 nothing more : after that he would fly as fast as his legs 
 could carry him. The misfortune was that none of the 
 rioters seemed disposed to get killed. 
 
 For five long minutes he remained behind his cask, 
 sweating with fear and anxiety. The firing continued, 
 causing splinters of wood to flv about and riddling the 
 carts with bullets. The workmen did not dare leave their 
 hiding place. At last one of them decided to risk his 
 presence in the middle of the street to gather a new lot 
 of stones. He slid along behind the barricade, taking 
 advantage of every bit of shelter. 
 
 Matheus followed his movements with glittering eyes. 
 He felt this man would be the victim he so much desired. 
 
 "Here's my man," he thought. " If he passes in front 
 of that gap, which I took care to leave open, he will be 
 shot down." 
 
 He had noticed that during the last few moments, bullets 
 had been pouring through the aperture in question. As 
 the workman had quietly set about tearing up paving 
 stones, he beckoned him with energetic gestures to approach. 
 The man, without the least distrust, thinking the chief
 
 320 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 had something important to tell him, began crawling along 
 slowly behind the barricade. The time came when he 
 found himself opposite the breach. Eight or ten bullets 
 entered his body and laid him low. He struggled atrociously, 
 then remained quiet, with his face towards the earth. 
 
 Then, Matheus uttered a terrible cry, and all the rioters 
 dashed into the middle of the street howling with exaspera- 
 tion. The National Guards ceased firing, thinking that 
 those who were at the barricade yielded. The spy took 
 advantage of that circumstance to carry off the corpse. 
 He called for assistance, placed the dead body on the 
 workmen's shoulders and crying aloud for vengeance, put 
 himself at their head. 
 
 " To arms ! let the people know that the Guard fires 
 upon unarmed men. To arms! to arms! They are murder- 
 ing our brothers ! " 
 
 And in a low undertone he said to himself: 
 
 " I have my corpse, the people will fight." 
 
 The party he was leading fled by the Rue de la Palud, 
 and their retreat was marked by their cries, as they bore 
 away the body of their dead brother like a standard of 
 horror and revolt. 
 
 It was at that moment that Marius and Philippe arrived 
 at the scene of the encounter. They found the company 
 of National Guards stationed in the middle of the Rue de 
 Rome among the remains of the three carts, looking 
 very much embarrassed at their victory; for they had 
 imagined they had to deal with at least a hundred men, 
 and were quite confused on ascertaining that for nearly 
 a quarter of an hour, they had been keeping up a brisk 
 fire against only about a dozen poor wretches. They felt 
 the horrible and sanguinary absurdity of their mistake. 
 
 Captain Sauvaire was exasperated. At the bottom of 
 his heart, what irritated him the most, was the terrible 
 blow his shako had received at the commencement of 
 the action. He considered himself attained in the dignity 
 of his uniform, and feared that all the prestige of his 
 beautiful costume was escaping by the hole made by the 
 revolutionary stone of an insurgent. 
 
 Marius, on recognising him, hastened up to him, to
 
 THE RIOT. 321 
 
 obtain some information as to what had occurred. But 
 the ex-master stevedore did not give him time to ques- 
 tion him. 
 
 "What do you think of those blackguards," he shouted, 
 " who attack us with stones ? The jackasses have not even 
 guns. Hold on! Look here!" 
 
 And he held out his shako, on which the gilded metal 
 ornament was broken. 
 
 "A bullet would only have made a small hole," he 
 resumed. "Now I shall be obliged to purchase a new 
 shako. These things are very expensive." 
 
 " Could you tell me ? " began Marius. 
 
 But Sauvaire would not allow him to finish his sentence. 
 He took him aside, placed his damaged shako on his 
 head, and said: 
 
 " Speak frankly. Doesn't this perforated headgear spoil 
 the look of me? Ah! Brutes of Republicans! I'll make 
 them pay dearly for their stone! " 
 
 Marius profited by his anger to at last ask a question: 
 
 " But what has occurred ? " 
 
 "Eh! we've killed one. So much the better! They 
 werer there behind those carts, two or three hundred, 
 perhaps a thousand. We got the better of them after an 
 hour's furious fighting. You see that pool of blood in the 
 street. For sure one of them must be dead. That will 
 teach them to throw stones at the National Guard. Order! 
 Order before everything!" 
 
 Marius was about to leave him when he caught him 
 by the button-hole of his coat. 
 
 "In reality," he added, in a voice weak with feeling; 
 " I am sorry of the death of this poor fellow. It was 
 perhaps not he who threw the stone. Oh ! if I were 
 certain it were he ! Just now, when I saw blood on the 
 ground, I felt a peculiar feeling. After all, order " 
 
 The young man left him talking and joined his brother 
 who was standing a few paces off. He felt extremely sad 
 at what he had just heard. This blood would fall upon 
 the heads of those who had spilt it. 
 
 "Well?" asked Philippe. 
 
 Marius did not answer at once. He could not hide 
 
 21
 
 322 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 what had happened from his brother, and he hesitated 
 to tell him of it, expecting a terrible outburst of passion. 
 They took a few steps in silence. 
 
 "You don't answer," said Philippe in a gloomy manner. 
 " Behind those carts, there were corpses, is it not so ? " 
 
 "No," murmured Marius, making up his mind to tell 
 the truth. " Only one workman was killed." 
 
 "Eh! what matters the number?" violently interrupted 
 the Republican. " My duty is now traced out for me. 
 The struggle is inevitable. You'll not ask me to remain 
 quietly at home any more. That would be cowardly. I 
 have hesitated too long, I'm going to join those I swore 
 to defend, if ever they were attacked." 
 
 The two brothers while talking, had reached the Cours 
 Saint Louis. Their further progress was barred by an 
 immense crowd. There the riot was fermenting. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 IN WHICH MATHEUS COMPLETES HIS WORK. 
 
 THE delegates who had succeeded in reaching the 
 Commissary of the government, had only been able to 
 obtain a letter from him in which he supported the men's 
 desire to work only ten hours a day. But this letter came 
 too late. The delegates might well show it to the parties 
 they met, but the word "vengeance" was now on every 
 tongue and the people declared that blood called for blood. 
 
 Besides, as generally happens, the causes of the struggle 
 that was in preparation escaped the majority. The greater 
 part of the population were ignorant of the object of the 
 riot; there was rage and terror in the air, that was all. 
 While the beating to arms sounded lugubriously in the 
 streets, and the National Guards hastened to their posts, 
 people questioned one another not knowing who was the 
 enemy against whom they were arming. 
 
 A company composed of stevedores, having heard it 
 stated that this enemy was the people, refused to march; 
 notwithstanding the hopes that had, perhaps, been enter-
 
 MATHEUS COMPLETES HIS WORK. 323 
 
 tained in Conservative quarters, these workmen would not 
 fire on workmen. 
 
 The people were in revolt, that was the only certainty 
 that spread among the crowd. Why were they in revolt? 
 What did they want? No one could answer. The work- 
 men themselves were no longer acting on the motives that 
 had brought them to the Prefecture; they were now solely 
 led on by anger. The struggle had become personal 
 without any hidden thought of political insurrection. If 
 some interested leaders had not urged the people on to 
 violence, it is very likely all would have ended in shouts 
 and threats. 
 
 The Place Royale, which since February had been 
 named the Place de la Revolution, became the centre of 
 the movement. Some Republican companies had made 
 it their headquarters. As soon as the news of the fight 
 which had just taken place at the barricade in the Rue 
 de la Palud, had spread among the groups assembled on 
 the Cours and Cannebiere, the workmen advanced in a 
 crowd towards these companies and inquired whether they 
 also were going to march against them. The gathering 
 was soon considerable: the events of the morning were 
 related with furious exclamations and the names given of 
 those who had been killed or wounded by the troops and 
 National Guard. These accounts excited those who heard 
 them and the tumult continued to increase. But the 
 crowd did not move, confining itself to shouting and 
 calling for vengeance. It required another shock to throw 
 it into open revolt. 
 
 At this moment, the General commanding the National 
 Guard made a supreme effort. He went into the midst 
 of the people endeavouring to pacify their minds bv 
 gentle words. 
 
 This General was not popular. He was taxed rightly or 
 wrongly with being hostile to the Republic. He had 
 unfortunately gathered around him a staff chosen in the 
 ranks of the reaction. To the crowd he was unknown, 
 and the people, blind with anger, made him responsible 
 for the deplorable events that were occurring. No one 
 had noticed his gesture of despair in the Rue Saint Ferrcol
 
 324 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 when the soldiers had crossed bayonets without his order. 
 As soon as he made his appearance, he was surrounded 
 by exasperated men who reviled him and accused him of 
 all the misfortunes of the morning. He remained calm, 
 did not seek to defend himself, confining his remarks to 
 promising the people all possible satisfaction and beseeching 
 them not to bring about still greater trouble. But it was 
 necessary for the Republican companies to come to his 
 assistance. He withdrew pronouncing words of peace in 
 a loud, firm voice. After his departure the tumult, instead 
 of subsiding, increased. 
 
 Then an officer of police appeared and summoned the 
 crowd to withdraw. At the same time the companies re- 
 ceived orders to go and post themselves on the Cannebiere ; 
 one of them closed the street in its entire breadth, another 
 drew up on the left hand pavement. But this movement 
 did not have the effect of displacing the centre of the 
 gathering. The Cours Saint Louis and the Cannebiere 
 were invaded. At every instant the lines of the National 
 Guards were broken and swarms of people passed through 
 them. The crowd became a crush and the clamour more 
 violent. The least thing would have caused an explosion. 
 
 All at once a hubbub burst forth on the Cours Saint 
 Louis. The procession in which the body of the work- 
 man killed in the Rue de la Palud, was being carried, 
 and at the head of which marched Matheus, had just left 
 the Rue d'Aubagne. Matheus had torn his clothes to make 
 believe in a hand-to-hand struggle, and had placed him- 
 self in the first rank howling, black with dust and fu- 
 riously shaking his red wig. Four men followed him bearing 
 the body, the arms and legs of which were dangling down 
 and swinging about in a horrible way. The head which 
 was thrown back, displayed a horrible wound that had 
 carried away half the cheek. Then came the little party 
 who had defended the barricade, with their eyes darting 
 out of their heads and beside themselves with the mad 
 race Matheus had made them take in the streets of the 
 city. And all shouted : " Vengeance ! Vengeance ! " in a 
 hoarse, heart-rending voice. 
 
 The effect produced by this procession was overwhelming.
 
 MATHEUS COMPLETES HIS WORK. 325 
 
 Matheus, guessing the Cours and Cannebiere would be 
 full of people, had arranged so as to produce a final 
 dramatic stroke. It was for that reason he had led his 
 followers through all the narrow streets, before bringing 
 them suddenly into the midst of the crowd. He wanted to 
 give the gathering time to form and he sought above all, 
 to fatigue his men, to deprive them of sound judgment, 
 to turn them into furious maniacs, whom he would then 
 cast to the four corners of the city to bring out the entire 
 population. 
 
 As soon as the procession had left the Rue d'Aubagne, 
 the crowd opened violently before him, with cries of 
 rage and horror. There was a crush which threw the 
 on-lookers against the houses, and the funeral procession, 
 amidst the fury and terror it excited on every side, went 
 straight ahead, piercing the crowd, tracing a broad road, 
 which closed behind it amidst frightful tumult. 
 
 On reaching the upper end of the Cannebiere the proces- 
 sion broke the line of National Guards who were barring 
 the street, and passed through the crowd assembled on 
 the pavement, to the Place de la Republique. The effect 
 produced on this second gathering was terrible in the 
 extreme. 
 
 These few bleeding men seemed to cast burning embers 
 around them as they marched along. 
 
 Matheus allowed the procession to be lost in the old 
 town and ran rapidly uphill towards the Cours Saint 
 Louis. As he crossed it, he perceived in a cafe which 
 was then undergoing repairs, some National Guards who 
 had taken refuge there in order to save themselves from 
 being torn to pieces by the mob. He returned, so as 
 to put in action a plan that the sight of the National 
 Guards had instilled into him. His sole anxiety consisted 
 in seeing the workmen without arms, because the struggle 
 would only be serious from the moment the people had 
 guns. If a few shots were not immediately exchanged, 
 the crowd might be dompted and muzzled. It was the 
 want of arms that alone delayed the insurrection. 
 
 So soon as he reached the Cours Saint Louis again, he 
 mixed with the groups of people who were still excited
 
 326 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 at the view of the funeral procession, and he drew atten- 
 tion to the cafe where the municipal troops were. 
 
 "They are Carlists," he exclaimed. "Down with the 
 National Guard ! " 
 
 That cry found a responding echo in the crowd. Every- 
 one turned towards the cafe, every mouth began to revile 
 and threaten those who had taken refuge there. 
 
 "I know them," shouted Matheus, "they belong to the 
 company who fired on us in the Rue de la Palud." 
 
 This statement was false, but who could deny it amidst 
 such confusion. The cries became louder, and the most 
 daring began to pick up stones and to cast them at the 
 windows where they saw the National Guards. The latter 
 were guilty of the imprudence of pointing their muskets 
 at the people. Then the crowd lost their heads and 
 rushed toward the cafe. Matheus was ahead and shouted : 
 
 " We want muskets. Let us disarm them ! " 
 
 Philippe and Marius had been standing for a quarter 
 of an hour at the entrance to the Rue de Rome. Being 
 unable to advance to the first ranks, they had confined 
 themselves to following the mob in a most excited frame 
 of mind, and had seen the lugubrious procession go by 
 with the dead workman. 
 
 " Look ! " Philippe exclaimed, simply pressing his brother's 
 arm vigorously. 
 
 And he resumed savage silence. Then, when the 
 National Guards pointed their muskets at the people, he 
 dashed forward, without uttering a word and rushed with 
 the mob to the assault of the cafe. 
 
 He and Marius, who had followed him step by step, 
 entered the cafe almost at the same time as Matheus. 
 The rooms above were invaded in a few seconds, the 
 National Guards being prudent enough not to offer any 
 serious resistance and allowing themselves to be disarmed 
 by the first who entered. 
 
 Philippe seized two muskets and presented one to his 
 brother. 
 
 "No," said the latter. "I don't fight with Frenchmen." 
 
 Philippe gave a gesture of impatience and hurried off 
 to the Cours, without even looking to see if Marius was
 
 MATHEUS COMPLETES HIS WORK. 327 
 
 following him. The latter, none the less, went after him, 
 unable to make up his mind to leave him, and still 
 hoping to save him from the scrimmage. 
 
 The excitement was intense on the Cours and Canne- 
 biere. The few rioters who had succeeded in procuring 
 muskets by disarming the National Guard, ran and mixed 
 with the Republican companies massed on the pavement. 
 Philippe stopped before the Hotel des Empereurs, at one 
 or two paces from Matheus. 
 
 It was just at that moment that the General made 
 another attempt at conciliation. He showed himself again 
 in the crowd preaching concord. By a fatal error the 
 people continued to regard him as the only person guilty 
 of the accidents in the morning. As he was passing 
 before the Hotel des Empereurs, some men sprang at 
 the bridle of his horse and a crowd formed round him 
 insulting and threatening him, while a few National Guards 
 tried in vain to release him. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Matheus looked to see if his gun 
 was loaded. His eyes shone, and an ugly smile distorted 
 his features. A new idea had just occurred to him to 
 hurry on events. Hiding behind the crowd, he aimed 
 at the General who was opposite him. The gun went 
 off and there was then a tremendous outcry. The General 
 quietly wiped away with his hand, the few drops of 
 blood the bullet had drawn from him in grazing his cheek. 
 
 Matheus' shot was followed by several others, which 
 completed the panic. The simple on-lookers rushed away 
 in disorder, quite terrified, and expecting to be riddled 
 with bullets in their flight. The rioters moved off with 
 the cry : 
 
 "To the barricades! to the barricades!" 
 
 It looked as if an angry breeze were sweeping the 
 crowd away. The lines of National Guards were broken, 
 and the companies dispersed by the torrent bearing them 
 along. In less than two minutes, the Cannebiere and 
 Cours were deserted. 
 
 The General had withdrawn looking pale and sad. 
 Matheus had disappeared as if by enchantment. Philippe 
 full of indignation, had dashed in vain to the spot where
 
 328 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 a streak of smoke revealed the assassin's presence ; but he 
 was only able to distinguish an indistinct form stooping 
 down and fleeing. 
 
 When the little square was empty, and as the drums 
 broke the frightful silence of the streets, Marius dragged 
 his brother towards the Place aux CEufs, where their 
 happiness was hidden. As they entered the Grande Rue, 
 they perceived parties of workmen occupying the square 
 and raising barricades. Marius stifled a cry of anguish. 
 
 It was then about noon. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE BARRICADES AT THE PLACE AUX CEUFS. 
 
 WHILE the crowd were flying and dispersing in terror, 
 Philippe and Marius had remained, for a few instants, 
 near the Hotel des Empereurs, sheltered in the recess of 
 a doorway, so as not to be dragged along by the rush of 
 the multitude. 
 
 Philippe felt all his sentiments of loyalty revolting within 
 him, at the cowardly attempt that had been made on the 
 General's life, and his brother, who could read this indignation 
 on his countenance, took advantage of the opportunity to 
 make a final effort to persuade him to throw off his connection 
 with civil war. 
 
 As soon as they were alone Marius said: 
 
 " Well ! do you mean to continue making common cause 
 with these assassins ? " 
 
 "There are scoundrels in all parties," Philippe answered 
 sullenly. 
 
 " I know it, but an insurrection is fatally doomed when 
 it commences under such auspices. Come with me, I 
 beseech you, do not compromise yourself any further." 
 
 The two brothers had begun slowly ascending towards 
 the Cours. Marius taking Philippe that way, so as to bring 
 him to the room where he had hidden his child ; he said 
 to himself, that once there, he would retain him and save 
 him in spite of himself.
 
 BARRICADES AT THE PLACE AUX CEUFS. 329 
 
 "Fine and Joseph have found refuge near here," he 
 said, as they walked along, " I advised my wife to pass 
 the day with your son in the little lodging on the Place 
 aux CEufs, so as to be beyond reach of a surprise, which 
 could easily be accomplished during the troubles of this 
 day. Come along, we'll only remain a few minutes if 
 you like." 
 
 Philippe followed his brother without answering. He 
 recalled M. Martelly's severe language; the shot that had 
 wounded the General still resounded in his ears, he 
 stiffened his neck, he would not abandon the people's 
 cause, and yet, in spite of himself, he began to hear the 
 grave voice of reason, which whispered to him not to mix 
 in a useless and sanguinary outbreak. Besides, he ignored 
 what was passing; all, perhaps, was over; the workmen might 
 be raising barricades in distant streets, and these would 
 be captured before they had time to defend them. He 
 walked beside his brother with an uneasy mind, half 
 conquered and not knowing what to do. 
 
 It was then that the two brothers, on entering the Grande 
 Rue, perceived a crowd of workmen on the Place aux 
 CEufs, who were hastily throwing-up barricades. 
 
 Marius stopped in despair. He reflected that Fine and 
 Joseph would find themselves in the centre of the riot 
 and he said to himself, that Philippe would now certainly 
 fight. What worried him more than anything else, was 
 that he accused himself of being the author of all this 
 misfortune. Was it not he who had advised his wife to 
 take refuge there ? Was it not he who had just led his 
 brother into the middle of the riot? 
 
 Philippe had also stopped, and called his brother's 
 attention to the scene before them. 
 
 "Look," he exclaimed, "chance has spared me from 
 the shame of acting as a coward, by leading me to those 
 whom I had sworn to defend and whom I was, perhaps, 
 about to abandon. I will fight for liberty, and watch over 
 my son." 
 
 He climbed over the first obstructions that had been 
 thrown across the street, and found himself in the midst 
 of workmen who shook him warmly by the hand. Marius
 
 330 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 followed, and ran rapidly upstairs to the room where Fine 
 and Joseph were. 
 
 Matheus had completely succeeded. He had attained 
 his end, step by step, assisted by circumstances, and 
 advancing slowly and surely towards his object. It was 
 he who had in a measure produced the events, urging on 
 the people to insurrection, and bringing them to fight at 
 the very spot where he desired the riot to break out. 
 
 After having discharged his musket at the General, he 
 ascended in double quick time towards the Cours, leading 
 parties of workmen with him, whilst the terrified crowd 
 were trampling each other under foot. As he ran, he 
 uttered this rallying cry : 
 
 "To the Place aux CEufs! To the Place aux CEufs !" 
 
 So soon as he had succeeded in getting about a dozen 
 rioters to follow him, he shouted louder than ever, and 
 rapidly had a crowd at his heels. This flood of armed 
 men, passing through the gathering, indicated a direction 
 to the insurrectionary movement which until then had been 
 hesitating. The workmen, not knowing where to entrench 
 themselves, would perhaps have dispersed ; but seeing some 
 of their comrades running towards a place they indicated, 
 they wished to follow them, and all who were spurred on 
 to the struggle by thoughts of vengeance, flew into the 
 Grande Rue. The Place aux CEufs was soon full. 
 
 Matheus on reaching the square, pointed out the beau- 
 tiful spot he had chosen to the workmen about him. 
 
 "Look," he said to them. "The place seems to have 
 been made for fighting." 
 
 That remark ran through the crowd. The revolt was 
 destined to break out in the centre of the old town, amidst 
 those narrow streets that could be easily barricaded. Every 
 one felt that the insurrection was at home there, and they 
 thought only of the struggle. A breath of irritation sped 
 through this fiery-headed mob. 
 
 The workmen, however, did not dare act. The post of 
 National Guards which Matheus had noticed in the morning 
 was still in a corner of the square. 
 
 "Stop," said Matheus to the most enthusiastic, "I'll 
 undertake to disperse them. They are friends."
 
 BARRICADES AT THE PLACE AUX CEUFS. 331 
 
 He went up to the lieutenant with whom he had 
 previously exchanged a few words, and asked him if his 
 men were for the people. The lieutenant answered that 
 they were there to preserve order. 
 
 "So are we," Matheus answered, shamelessly. 
 
 Then he approached him, and added in a lower tone : 
 
 " Listen, I have a bit of advice to give you. You go 
 off as quickly as you can. If you refuse, we shall be 
 obliged to disarm you, perhaps kill you, and brothers, you 
 know, don't kill each other. Trust in me, don't remain 
 a minute longer." 
 
 The lieutenant glanced round him. He felt only too 
 glad to go away, but he was afraid of appearing a coward. 
 The position was critical. The rioters slowly surrounded 
 the National Guard and gazed at their muskets with eyes 
 burning with desire. Other men were working at the 
 barricade, and the lieutenant could not quietly look on 
 without making an effort to stop them. He preferred to 
 withdraw ; and the National Guards marched off amidst 
 profound silence. 
 
 From that moment the square was in possession of the 
 rioters, who began fortifying themselves there as well as 
 they could. Their misfortune was that they had not the 
 necessary materials for throwing up a lofty and solid 
 barricade. They had to be satisfied with the benches and 
 packing cases of the dealers in herbs established there. 
 These they first of all placed across the street, and they 
 then searched the adjoining houses for barrels, planks and 
 any other kind of suitable material. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Matheus was resting on his victory. 
 Now that he had attained his end, he wished to make 
 himself as small as possible, and disappeared in the crowd, 
 so as not to compromise himself further. He had washed 
 his face at a neighbouring fountain, and had left his 
 musket standing against a wall. He lolled about among 
 the crowd, with his hands in his pockets, like a good 
 bourgeois ; he presented such a tranquil appearance, that 
 the workmen who had seen him performing the comedy 
 of anger, did not recognise him. He ended by ascending 
 the steps of a house from which he attentively followed
 
 332 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 the scene that was passing on the square, and searched 
 with his eyes for Philippe and Marius. 
 
 "You will fall into the trap, my little beauties," he 
 thought, with a calm smile. " My snares are well set. 
 Ah! you wanted to place the child in safety. Eh! 
 simpletons that you are, you have thrown him into my 
 arms ! You will rush to protect the little darling, and be 
 caught with him ! " 
 
 He kept on looking, without showing the least impatience. 
 He knew those whom he was awaiting could not fail to 
 come. When the two brothers emerged from the Grande 
 Rue, he merely shrugged his shoulders and murmured : 
 
 " I was sure of it." 
 
 Then, he never lost sight of them. He followed them 
 in the crowd, and saw Marius run up to find Fine, whilst 
 Philippe mixed with the rioters. 
 
 " Come, that's perfect," he murmured again. " I shall, 
 perhaps, be obliged to kill the little young man. As to the 
 great booby, his business is settled, if the National Guards 
 don't send him to rot in the ground, we'll see that the 
 assizes send him to rot in prison." 
 
 He descended and went and turned round Philippe 
 out of curiosity. The hour for him to act had not 
 arrived. He thought himself at a play, his instincts 
 were gently tickled at the hope of being present at a 
 massacre. While waiting to accomplish the abduction he 
 had undertaken, he resolved to amuse himself by seeing 
 people kill each other. 
 
 The rioters in the meanwhile, had returned to the bar- 
 ricades. Little by little, they had piled up a fairly large 
 quantity of material on the square, comprising a pell mell 
 of all sorts of objects which they distributed as well as 
 possible among the six barricades in course of erection. 
 They formed a chain, passing planks, paving stones, 
 everything they came across, from hand to hand, each 
 ran about on his own account, and returning, threw what 
 he had found on the heap. It was a feverish coming and 
 going, a sort of immense workshop of revolt, where every 
 labourer hurried along zealously yet gloomily at the task, 
 with a threat on his lips and vengeance in his heart.
 
 BARRICADES AT THE PLACE AUX CEUFS. 333 
 
 Whilst the majority brought materials, others, no doubt 
 wheel-wrights and carpenters, had undertaken to strengthen 
 the barricades. Having neither nails nor hammers, they 
 confined themselves to dovetailing the objects one with 
 the other. 
 
 The two principle barricades were thrown up at the 
 entrance to the Grande Rue, on the side of the Cours, 
 and at the entrance to the Rue Requis Novis. These, 
 notwithstanding the efforts of the rioters, were nothing, 
 in reality, but a mass of objects offering but little 
 resistance and forming in no way a serious obstruction. 
 Four barricades of still less importance, were raised across 
 the Rues de la Vieille Cuiraterie, Lune-Blanche, Vieille- 
 Monnaie and Lune-d'Or. One street only remained 
 open, the Rue des Marquises, which was necessary to the 
 rioters for communication with the Rue Belzunce, the 
 Place des Precheurs, and all the narrow crooked lanes of 
 the old quarter, where they intended to fly and lose 
 themselves in case of defeat. The Place aux (Eufs, thus 
 fortified, would have been an impregnable stronghold 
 if the barricades had been stronger. 
 
 As soon as Philippe found himself amidst the Republi- 
 cans, he had put his hand to work without hesitation. 
 He had laboured like the others, carrying all that he 
 could find to the scene of action. He forgot Marius' 
 sober words and thought no more of his child, all his 
 passion was bursting within him, and urging him forward. 
 
 As he was dragging a barrel along, he all at once heard 
 an ironical voice say : 
 
 "Shall I help you, my friend?" 
 
 He raised his head and recognised M. de Girousse, 
 who, with his hands in his pockets, was observing him 
 with a delightful air of curiosity. 
 
 M. de Girousse had reached Marseilles on the previous 
 evening. Feeling there was something serious in the air, 
 he had hastened there so as not to lose the opportunity 
 of dispelling the dreadful weariness under which he 
 laboured. He had been awaiting a drama ever since the 
 Republic had been proclaimed. He absolutely forgot that 
 he belonged to the nobility and watched the outburst
 
 334 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 of the people's anger as a disinterested observer. Searching 
 at the bottom of his heart, he found he had more sym- 
 pathy for the Democratic cause than for that of the 
 Legitimists to which he was fatally attached by name. 
 At Aix nobody made any ceremony about saying, that 
 M. de Girousse was a regular " original " who found 
 pleasure in shaking hands with workmen, and the nobility 
 would, perhaps, have closed their mansions to him had 
 he not borne one of the oldest names of Provence. 
 
 He had been running about the streets of Marseilles 
 since the morning, watching the progress of the riot, 
 occupying the most advantageous positions as a spectator, 
 right in the middle of the scrimmage, so as not to lose 
 the least detail. One thing, only, had disgusted him, the 
 shot fired at the General. Otherwise, he found that the 
 people generously risked their lives, that their anger was 
 superb and their violence magnificent. 
 
 As soon as he had heard that the rioters were making 
 barricades at the Place aux QEufs, he hastened there. He 
 wanted to be present at the catastrophe. He penetrated 
 within the barricades, mixed with the fighting men and 
 firmly intended not to move until all was over. 
 
 Philippe stared at him in amazement. The Count 
 stood there before him, attired in a black frock coat, with 
 a soft felt hat on his head and smiling in a bantering 
 manner. Under his arm, he carried a huge sabre, all 
 rusty and covered with dust. 
 
 "What! you here!" exclaimed Philippe. " Are you one 
 of us ? " 
 
 M. de Girousse glanced at his weapon. 
 
 " Look, isn't it a fine sabre?" he said without answering. 
 " They have just entrusted me with it for the defence of 
 Liberty." 
 
 And then he related in a jeering way, how he had just 
 been enrolled among the rioters. The latter, in need of 
 arms, sought to procure them by all possible means. A 
 locksmith had made the remark in the midst of one of 
 the groups that the dealers in second-hand goods in the 
 Rue Belzunce and the Rue Sainte Barbe must have some 
 old arms in their shops. A band had at once set out to
 
 BARRICADES AT THE PLACE AUX CEUFS. 335 
 
 secure them. M. de Girousse, urged on by curiosity, had 
 followed the band and gone with them into the shops. 
 It was in one of these that a workman had handed him 
 the huge sabre which he carried under his arm. 
 
 "He gave it me," he added, "and made me swear 
 to plunge it into the enemies of our country. I don't think 
 I shall abide by my oath. But as I find the sabre looks 
 very well under my arm, I'll keep it. Do you think any 
 one of my ancestors, any one of those doughty warriors 
 of the past, cut a better figure than I do at this moment ? " 
 
 Philippe could not keep from laughing. 
 
 " I asked you a stupid question a little time ago," he 
 said to the Count, with some bitterness. " I asked you 
 if you were one of us. I forgot that you could only be 
 here out of curiosity. You have come to see if the people 
 know how to die. Well! I think you'll be satisfied 
 with them." 
 
 The Republican had drawn himself up, and pointed out 
 to the nobleman the burning, active crowd of workmen. 
 
 " Look at them," he resumed. " There is the flock 
 your fathers sheared, and branded with a red-hot iron. 
 For the third time in sixty years the flock is getting angry. 
 I predict to you, that it will end by eating up the 
 shepherds. Instead of urging it on to revolt, it would 
 have been better to have given it liberty, and bread, 
 which it requires to live. All the energies it is expending 
 at this hour, in raising barricades, would then have been 
 devoted to useful labour." 
 
 M. de Girousse no longer jeered. He had become 
 grave. Philippe continued with violence : 
 
 "Your place is not here. You have come amidst our 
 barricades as the patricians of ancient Rome went to the 
 arena to see slaves die. Ah ! notwithstanding your good- 
 ness, cruel blood runs in your veins. You are pestered 
 with the curiosity of the wearied master; I see it, and 
 our insurrection, this insurrection which will cause us 
 tears, is merely a show for you. Believe me, you will 
 do better to go away. We are not actors, we have no 
 need of the pit." 
 
 The old Count had turned pale. He remained for an
 
 336 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 instant motionless ; then, as Philippe stooped down to take 
 up his barrel, he said to him in a peaceful tone." 
 
 " My friend, will you allow me to help you ? " 
 
 He grasped the barrel at one end, and Republican 
 and Legitimist carried it together to the barricade and 
 threw it down there. 
 
 "The deuce!" said M. de Girousse, "it wasn't heavy, 
 but my sabre inconvenienced me considerably." 
 
 He rubbed his hands to get rid of the dust, and found 
 himself face to face with Marius. After the first words 
 of surprise, he resumed, smiling: 
 
 "Your brother has just been advising me to go away. 
 He is right, I am only an inquisitive old fellow. I wish 
 you would hide me somewhere." 
 
 Marius took him into the house where Fine and Joseph 
 were, and the Count made himself comfortable on the 
 third floor landing, at a window facing the square. What 
 Philippe had said to him had made him profoundly sad. 
 
 Marius had merely come down to beg his brother to go 
 and comfort Fine and the child, who were half dead with 
 fright. He returned, after Philippe had promised to rejoin 
 him. The latter wished particularly to take a look round 
 the square. The six barricades were completed; at least, 
 the rioters, being unable to find any more material, had 
 renounced building them any higher. A heavy silence 
 began to reign among the crowd, and the workmen seated 
 themselves on the ground, resting while awaiting events. 
 It was easy to see, from the lowered tone of voice, that 
 the moment of the struggle was approaching. 
 
 What annoyed Philippe, was that there were so few 
 efficient arms in the hands of the combatants. Fifty of 
 them at the most had muskets. Some of the others 
 carried sticks, billiard cues evidently stolen in the cafes; 
 a great number of those who were without muskets 
 were provided with curious kinds of weapons that had 
 come from the shops of the second-hand dealers. Some 
 had spits, old lances and sabres ; others simply iron bars. 
 Around the fountain which stood in the centre of the 
 square, were a dozen workmen or so, sharpening their 
 rusty blades on the cold stones of the basin. Cartridges
 
 BARRICADES AT THE PLACE AUX CEUFS. 337 
 
 also were few in number. There were at the most a 
 hundred or two taken from the ammunition pouches of 
 the National Guards who had been disarmed. 
 
 Philippe understood that the barricades could notresistlong, 
 but he was determined not to discourage anyone by show- 
 ing his anxiety. He confined himself to advising them 
 to occupy the houses adjoining the barricades, in the hope 
 that the assailants would retire if a shower of projectiles 
 were cast on them from the roofs and windows. 
 
 Several houses had already been invaded. The rioters 
 hammered at the doors of the lodgings they wished to 
 occupy, threatening to break them in if they were not 
 opened. Then, they insisted on having the keys of the 
 doors leading to the flat roofs, and made every win- 
 dow a loophole, and every roof a stronghold. They 
 laboured solely, for nearly half an hour, carrying stones 
 up into the houses. Once above, they tore away and 
 broke up the tiles, and incumbered the tops of the dwell- 
 ings with rubbish, which they intended throwing on the 
 soldiers' heads. 
 
 When Philippe was satisfied that all the arrangements 
 had been completed, he decided to rejoin his brother. 
 He had placed himself at the head of the men who were 
 to occupy the house where Marius had hidden Fine and 
 Joseph. This house was at the corner of the Grande Rue, 
 and the Place aux Guifs, on the right, coming from the 
 Cours. Philippe foresaw that the barricade in the Grande 
 Rue would be the most vigorously attacked, and he was 
 not without uneasiness as to the danger that would be 
 incurred by the persons who had sought refuge there, and 
 who would be in the midst of the fighting. 
 
 He only allowed the most devoted men to enter the 
 building, and made them vow to defend the door to their 
 last breath. After having placed them on the roof and 
 at the windows, he returned to the landing on the third 
 story, where he found M. dc Girousse who pointed out 
 a door to him and simply said : 
 
 "They're expecting you." 
 
 Whilst Philippe had been settling all this, Matheus had 
 ascended the steps of the house wlvVh was on the other
 
 338 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 side of the square. He had seen the Republican at the 
 windows, and his quiet, rascally smile returned like a 
 grimace to his lips. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WHAT MATHEUS, THE FORESEER, DID 
 NOT FORESEE. 
 
 THE interview was short and touching. Philippe took 
 little Joseph for a moment on his knees, and felt quite 
 affected. 
 
 "I entrust him to you," he said to Fine and Marius. 
 "I shall, perhaps^ never see him again, but I know he will 
 always have a father and mother." 
 
 Marius remained silent. He understood that his brother 
 imagined he was performing a duty, and he did not say 
 one word to retain him. Fine had great tears bulging 
 out of her eyes. 
 
 Philippe seemed to be making an effort to tear him- 
 self away from the room which appeared full of mute 
 despair. He wished to escape the cowardly feeling of 
 tenderness that was gaining possession of him. He gave 
 his son a last kiss, and placed him on Fine's knees. 
 
 Then, walking feverishly, as if to stir up his thoughts, 
 he moved towards the window facing the Grande Rue, 
 and after casting a look outside, turned towards the young 
 woman and said : 
 
 " You mustn't remain on that chair. Come and sit 
 here, away from the window. The bullets might enter 
 there." 
 
 He stopped, and could not stifle a cry that rose to 
 his lips. 
 
 "Ah! War is a terrible thing! I have wished for it 
 with all my strength, and behold, it places those I love 
 in jeopardy." 
 
 His head fell on his hand in despair. He was on the 
 point of bursting into nervous sobbing, when moving 
 towards the door, he continued in a brutal tone : 

 
 WHAT MATHEUS DID NOT FORESEE. 339 
 
 "Are you coming Marius?" 
 
 Then on the threshold, he bid a last adieu to Fine 
 and Joseph, who watched him depart. At that moment 
 he and his brother thought no more of M. de Cazalis; 
 and any idea of a surprise was far from their minds. They 
 simply feared that the young woman and child might 
 be subjected to brutal treatment by the rioters and soldiers 
 amidst the disturbance. 
 
 On the landing, they found M. de Girousse who ap- 
 peared to be hiding beside the window, and watching 
 attentively. 
 
 " I say, do you know that villainous creature over there? " 
 he inquired of them. 
 
 And he pointed with his finger to Matheus, who was 
 standing on the other side of the square. 
 
 " I've been following his movements for the last half 
 hour," continued the Count. " He has not ceased watching 
 this house. Assuredly he must be actuated by some evil 
 design." 
 
 The two brothers looked in the direction he indicated. 
 
 " Is it the man with the red hair ? " inquired Marius. 
 
 "Precisely," answered the Count. " I detest red-haired 
 people. But then, I have a particularly good scent for 
 detecting rascals. That one has evil-looking eyes, and a 
 quiet smile that predicts nothing good." 
 
 "But," said Philippe, " I know the man. He's a violent 
 democrat. I remember having heard him deliver incendi- 
 ary speeches in the clubs. I never thoroughly examined 
 him, but I confess I always had a kind of repugnance 
 for him. Look, he's staring this way again." 
 
 The young man was seized with vague mistrust. He 
 fancied Matheus might, perhaps, be an instigating agent 
 of the authorities, one of those traitors who glide in 
 among the democrats, and lead them on to extremities, 
 so as to hand them over to the police afterwards. 
 
 Marius had other fears to which he did not dare give 
 utterance. 
 
 " Come, " he said to Philippe, "we must find out why 
 that man is watching the house in that way." 
 
 They went down and mixed with the crowd, and while
 
 340 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 feigning not to pay attention to Matheus, took care not 
 to lose sight of him. They walked about the square 
 in this way for ten minutes, without relaxing their super- 
 vision. Matheus, in the meanwhile, was spoiling all his 
 beautiful calculations by being over confident. He had so 
 correctly foreseen each event, everything had succeeded 
 so well with him up to then, that he felt sure of victory. 
 He thought he had already triumphed, and omitted his 
 customary prudence, imagining that in the scrimmage, 
 everyone had lost his head, and nobody was paying the 
 least attention to him. 
 
 When he perceived the two brothers, he ceased exam- 
 ining the house, and assumed a happy-go-lucky air. He 
 cast down his head, and seemed lost in deep thought. 
 Then Marius and Philippe saw him leave the steps, and 
 wander among the crowd, looking very perplexed. In 
 truth, he was thinking if he ought not to go and steal 
 the child then, before the outbreak, so as to avoid com- 
 promising himself, by remaining any longer amidst the 
 barricades. It was only a question of getting rid of 
 Fine and that did not trouble him much; he would 
 use a gag, he thought, and if absolutely necessary, a 
 knife. What really worried him, and gave him an air 
 of such profound thought, was that horrid carroty wig, 
 which up to then had served him as a flag, but which 
 he now wished to get rid of at any price. 
 
 He said to himself rightly, that it nailed him to his 
 post, deprived him of his liberty of action: he could 
 never carry a child off in his arms, so long as he remained 
 " the man with the carroty hair" as they called him, the 
 impetuous Tribune who had spoken on one occasion of 
 reducing Marseilles to ashes. 
 
 Matheus walked about for a long time, without being 
 able to make up his mind as to what he would do. He 
 understood all the gravity of a change of physiognomy. 
 Now, when Philippe and Marius noticed the sly glances 
 he was casting around him, they felt certain M. de Girousse 
 'was not wrong. All at once he made a movement like 
 a man taking a resolution, and advancing towards the 
 door of one of the houses on the square, entered it after
 
 WHAT MATHEUS DID NOT FORESEE. 341 
 
 looking round to see that no one was spying him. 
 A few minutes later, the two brothers, who had kept their 
 eyes fixed on the door of the house, saw a person make his 
 appearance there who was slightly bald and wore the same 
 attire as the man with the carroty wig. Philippe repressed 
 a cry of rage. He had recognised Matheus at a glance. 
 
 " Ah ! the wretch ! " he muttered in a choking voice to 
 his brother, " he's the fedus Achates of Cazalis, the man 
 who tried to steal Joseph at Ayasse's." 
 
 " I suspect some foul play," murmured Marius, who had 
 turned pale. 
 
 " I see it all now! it was that cursed red hair that led 
 me astray; I felt I knew the man, but I only saw him 
 at night, and couldn't remember who he was." 
 
 Marius interrupted his brother. 
 
 " Every minute is precious," he said. " Cazalis must be 
 there in the dark. He has set one of his creatures to 
 dog your foot-steps so as to ruin you, and at the climax, 
 has sent this wretch here to get possession of Joseph. I 
 don't understand how it has all been done; however, we 
 must first of all get rid of this man. We'll decide on 
 further action afterwards." 
 
 Philippe, dumbfounded at the thought of all the misfor- 
 tunes he had brought about, remained silent. 
 
 "You understand," continued Marius, " we cannot have 
 him arrested by accusing him of an abduction he has not 
 yet committed. And besides, we would find nobody here 
 to seize him by the collar." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the Republican, whose eyes 
 suddenly sparkled. " I have an idea. Wait a minute." 
 
 Philippe ran towards a party of workmen, who were 
 entirely devoted to him, spoke to them in an undertone 
 for a few moments, and returning to Marius said : 
 
 " Look, our man is already caught in the trap." 
 
 The workmen had dispersed; then, one by one, they 
 had manoeuvred so as to surround Matheus, while the 
 latter, suspecting nothing, was strolling about with the air 
 of a placid bourgeois. 
 
 " You go home," said one of the workmen to him in 
 a brutal tone.
 
 342 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 "Wait," observed another, "this citizen is not unknown 
 to me." 
 
 "Eh!" exclaimed a third, "what have you done with 
 your carroty wig ? " 
 
 " He's a false brother ! he's a false brother ! " shouted 
 all the party. 
 
 This cry ran all over the square. A gathering was 
 formed and in the midst of it Matheus was violently 
 hustled. A rioter searched him, and the red wig which was 
 found in one of his pockets, was passed from hand to 
 hand as a proof of guilt. They spoke of nothing less 
 than hanging the wretch, for all who remembered the 
 part he had played, shouted out that he was an instigating 
 agent, a creature of the police, and that they must make 
 an example of him, by stringing him up to the nearest 
 lantern. 
 
 Matheus trembled with fright. There was no reasoning 
 within him at that moment, and he was not a bit surprised 
 when he saw Philippe, of all people in the world, advance 
 to his assistance. 
 
 "Come, my friends," said the latter to the angry 
 workmen, " don't dirty your hands by killing the man. It 
 will suffice to keep him within sight. He might be useful 
 to us later on. Only, if he attempts to run away, send a 
 bullet into his back." 
 
 By the young man's order two workmen caught hold 
 of the wretch, and shut him up in a little shop, one of 
 them standing on guard at the door with a loaded musket. 
 
 Matheus' reflections were rather sad. He cursed himself 
 a thousand times, for having had the strange idea of 
 taking off his wig, but he did not for a moment suspect 
 the part the Cayols had played in his arrest. Philippe 
 having feigned not to recognise him, he imagined his 
 misadventure had occurred solely from the rioters taking 
 him for a police spy, an accusation he had been unable to 
 refute. At the bottom of his heart, he even laughed at 
 his adversaries for having helped him. However, he did 
 not despair beyond measure, for he had always looked 
 upon the workmen as asses, and he said to himself that 
 he would assuredly find a means of escaping when the
 
 WHAT MATHEUS DID NOT FORESEE. 343 
 
 barricades were attacked. It was merely an annoyance. 
 He must wait. 
 
 Philippe had withdrawn with Marius into a corner, and 
 was saying to him in an animated undertone : 
 
 " I preferred not to let him be hanged, for if we conquer, 
 this man will be a terrible arm in our hands against Cazalis." 
 
 " And if we are beaten ? " inquired Marius. 
 
 "If we are beaten," Philippe answered, sullenly, "I 
 entrust my child to you; you will protect him. Do not 
 overwhelm me with reproaches. I must go straight ahead, 
 without looking backward." 
 
 The conversation between the two brothers was inter- 
 rupted by a murmur that arose in the middle of the square. 
 It was about two o'clock. More than an hour had elapsed 
 since the barricades had been completed, and the rioters 
 were waiting. They had taken advantage of this moment 
 of respite to organize a plan of defence and make their 
 final arrangements. Since the arrest of Matheus a silence 
 of death reigned all around. Each workman, rivetted to 
 his post, was gazing fixedly ahead, with his loaded 
 musket beside him, and all his thoughts bent on vengeance. 
 
 Suddenly, those who were guarding the barricade in the 
 Grande Rue, perceived two persons advance and boldly 
 enter the stronghold. On hearing the murmur, that had 
 greeted them, Philippe approached and recognised M. 
 Martelly and Abbe Chastanier. The ship-owner hastened 
 forward to meet him. 
 
 "For pity's sake," he said to him, "if you have any 
 power over these men, dissuade them from this fratricidal 
 struggle." 
 
 "My child," murmured the priest on his side, "I have 
 come to you, to beseech you with joined hands, to avoid 
 the effusion of blood." 
 
 Philippe shook his head without answering. He was 
 annoyed at their arrival. He felt more guilty and upset 
 in their presence. The ship-owner continued : 
 
 " You see, I come, as I promised you I would, to 
 place myself between the people's fire and that of the 
 soldiers. I bitterlv regret at this moment, that I did not 
 devote a few days to winning popularity with the work-
 
 344 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 men, so as to make them listen to me and follow my advice." 
 
 " I can do nothing," Philippe ended by saying. " These 
 men are exasperated, they listen to me because I think 
 as they do, that the people have to take vengeance ; but, 
 if I were to speak to them of pardon and forgiveness, 
 they would turn their backs on me. Try it yourself." 
 
 The workmen had, little by little, drawn near, and M. 
 Martelly went up to them. 
 
 " My friends," he said, " I am directed to announce 
 that justice shall be done you. I have just seen the 
 Commissary of the Government." 
 
 These words were listened to amidst silence and sul- 
 len anger. After a moment, the entire crowd answered in 
 one single cry: 
 
 " It is too late ! " 
 
 Abbe Chastanier then addressed each workman. But 
 they turned away, one by one, in ferocious ill-humour, 
 without listening. When he told them that the Almighty 
 forbade the shedding of blood, they answered him : 
 
 " Why didn't you say that this morning to the National 
 Guard ? " 
 
 M. Martelly, on his side, was no more fortunate. 
 They knew him as a man of independent mind, but they 
 also knew he was rich, and they, perhaps, accused him 
 in their hearts of giving way to fright. 
 
 The priest and ship-owner returned to Philippe in despair. 
 The latter would have been glad to see them succeed, 
 but he did not dare assist them openly. Thinking of his 
 faults, of which he now saw the consequences, of the 
 danger which threatened his own near relatives, he felt 
 alarmed himself. 
 
 "I warned you," he said, "that any attempt at pacifi- 
 cation would be useless. The people want to fight, and 
 will fight. Let us do our duty." 
 
 He stopped to listen. A muffled sound, a distant 
 clinking of metal, 'came from the Grande Rue. 
 
 "Here are the soldiers and National Guard," he 
 continued in a grave tone of voice. 
 
 And he rapidly withdrew, after having pressed the hand 
 of Marius, who hastened upstairs to rejoin Fine. M.
 
 THE ATTACK. 345 
 
 Martelly and Abbe Chastanier advanced towards the bar- 
 ricade in the Grand Rue, behind which Philippe had 
 taken up a position. 
 
 Once more there was silence, deadly silence, and amidst 
 it was heard the regular, heavy tramp of the military. 
 The rioters, bending down and sheltering themselves, 
 waited. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 THE ATTACK. 
 
 M. DE CAZALIS thanks to his National Guard uniform, 
 had been able to follow all the different phases of the 
 riot. So far back as the morning, when Matheus left him 
 opposite the Prefecture, he had slipped into the ranks of 
 the first company he had met, which happened to be 
 that of Sauvaire, and the ex-deputy was thus able to be 
 present at the brush with the people in the Rue de 
 la Palud. 
 
 He had but a vague idea of the plans formed by 
 Matheus, and was urged by curiosity to follow all his 
 manoeuvres. After the barricade had been captured he 
 proceeded with Sauvaire's company to the Cannebiere, 
 and witnessed all the unfortunate events that had occurred 
 there. When he saw the procession led by the spy, go 
 by with the corpse, he understood that a fight was inevitable, 
 and remembered the rendezvous his accomplice had given 
 him. But when a panic of terror had dispersed the 
 multitude, he felt much perplexed. Prudence told him 
 not to abandon his new companions-in-arms ; so, for over 
 two hours, he remained on the Place dc la Revolution 
 with the company, which was awaiting orders to march. 
 What made him particularly uneasy, was not having a better 
 idea of Matheus 1 plans, for the latter had merely told him 
 to join him at the spot where barricades would be thrown up. 
 He was suddenly relieved of his perplexity by an order, 
 brought by a man on horseback, which Captain Sauvaire 
 communicated to the National Guard in these terms:
 
 346 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " My boys, the country has need of us. Forward, march !" 
 
 Never had the ex-stevedore made such an eloquent 
 speech. He felt so enthusiastic at himself, that he began 
 to ascend the Cannebiere at the head of his men, with 
 the air of a conqueror, hardly giving a thought to the danger 
 he was about to incur. 
 
 M. de Cazalis felt very much surprised when the Company 
 turned to the left, instead of going towards the Rue de 
 Rome. His idea was that Matheus had been making 
 efforts to bring about the struggle near the Cours Bonaparte, 
 and he could not understand how his accomplice would 
 be able to steal Joseph, if the fighting took place in the 
 old town. From that moment he gave up trying to understand, 
 but as the company reached the Grande Rue he caught 
 sight of the barricade and that was sufficient. He said 
 to himself, he had kept the appointment, and he awaited 
 events. 
 
 The Cours Belzunce was full of troops. There were 
 two platoons of infantry, and about three hundred artil- 
 lerymen. As soon as Sauvaire's company arrived, the 
 major who had received orders to attack the barricade, had 
 a short interview with the captain. 
 
 "I was awaiting you," he said to Sauvaire. "My 
 orders are to show as much consideration as is possible, 
 and it occurred to me that as the sight of the infantry 
 would be likely to exasperate the workmen, it might be 
 best for the National Guard to march on ahead and 
 make a final effort at conciliation. Speak to the rioters 
 as a fellow-townsman." 
 
 From that moment Sauvaire imagined that the destiny 
 of France was in his hands. He formed his company 
 into column and advanced resolutely into the Grande 
 Rue, the tramp of his men ringing out in the silence. 
 The major set his troops in motion behind the National 
 Guard. 
 
 When the captain found himself at fifty paces from 
 the barricade, he commanded : " Halt ! " and approached 
 it alone. On hearing his word of command, some 
 fifteen rioters showed themselves. The ex-master 
 stevedore, seeing the musket barrels flashing at his
 
 THE ATTACK. 347 
 
 breast, gave a shudder of fright, but out of vanity, 
 put on a good appearance externally. 
 
 " Eh ! the deuce ! " he said, " I'm a friend, don't fire. 
 We're all Marseillais boys; we can't cut each other's 
 throats in a family circle. There are none but good 
 fellows here. Is it not so ? Come now, throw down your 
 arms and let each go his own way." 
 
 There was but one cry in response to these exhorta- 
 tions. 
 
 "It is too late!" 
 
 "It is never too late to act like reasonable men," con- 
 tinued Sauvaire. "In your place, I'd return to duty. They 
 must have told you that the Commissary of the Govern- 
 ment had admitted the justice of your claims. What more 
 do you want ?" 
 
 " What we want is blood, withdraw ! " screamed the 
 rioters. 
 
 Sauvaire, while speaking, had been attentively following 
 the workmen's movements. Suddenly, he fancied he heard a 
 strange sound and was about to retreat, when a powerful 
 voice shouted from behind the barricade : 
 
 "Look out, stoop down!" 
 
 Sauvaire let himself fall heavily to the ground, and the 
 men behind him bent themselves. 
 
 At the same moment a discharge from the barricades 
 and neighbouring houses, passed over the heads of the 
 attacking party with a terrible roar, but thanks to the 
 warning, which had caused the soldiers to curve their necks, 
 only about a dozen men were wounded. The attack had 
 been so sudden and unexpected, that the National Guards, 
 seized with panic, had fled. Sauvaire threw himself to the 
 left, against the houses, and hurriedly rejoined his com- 
 pany which had reformed a hundred paces further on. 
 
 During this time an incident had occurred, behind the 
 barricade. M. Martelly and Abbe Chastanier had remained 
 among the workmen, exhorting them to avoid the effusion 
 of blood. Whilst Sauvaire was speaking, the ship-owner 
 had noticed that some of the more furious ones were 
 preparing to fire, and it was he who had shouted to the 
 soldiers:
 
 348 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " Look out, stoop down ! " 
 
 When the rioters perceived what little effect their dis- 
 charge had produced, they surrounded M. Martelly in a 
 rage. Philippe, who had come down from the barricade, 
 saw the danger his former employer was running, and, 
 to save him, ordered two of the rioters to put him and 
 the priest under arrest and not to lose sight of them. Ulti- 
 mately both were taken to the little shop where Matheus 
 was confined. 
 
 The troops, however, advanced again. The major had 
 given the infantry orders to take the barricade by assault, 
 and a few of the National Guards, exasperated at the 
 volley they had received, had mixed with the soldiers. 
 Among these was M. de Cazalis. Having perceived Phi- 
 lippe at the top of the barricade, he had but one thought, 
 to hide behind something or in some doorway, and kill 
 his enemy. 
 
 As the new attacking column was about to rush upon 
 the barricade, they were repulsed by a second discharge. 
 This volley was much more murderous than the first. 
 A captain, mortally wounded, was carried in a dying 
 condition into a neighbouring house, and more than thirty 
 men were incapacitated from taking any further part in 
 the fray. The major then understood that the struggle 
 was unequal and that he would never capture the barricade 
 by storming it from the front, as the rioters, hidden 
 behind all sorts of shelter, were able to take deadly aim, 
 whilst those attacking could not do so. From that 
 moment, soldiers and National Guards dispersed in the 
 Grande Rue, and throwing themselves on either side of 
 it, along the walls, opened a skirmishing fire. Shot then 
 followed shot, irregularly, here and there; and as soon 
 as a man showed himself, he was certain to get a bullet 
 whistling at his ears. 
 
 Sauvaire had sought refuge under a large doorway. 
 The worthy man began to think the business of a National 
 Guard no joke. His vanity had first of all been tickled, 
 by the importance the rank of captain gave him, in the 
 grave events that were occurring ; but, when he saw they 
 were fighting in earnest, his bourgeois pity got the better
 
 THE ATTACK. 349 
 
 of him; and he watched the men falling around him, with 
 a feeling of sorrow and horror. He felt as if he would 
 like to put a stop to the fighting; first of all, so as not 
 to run the risk of receiving a bullet, and then so as to be 
 spared the disagreeable sight of a battle. Personally he 
 would not have killed a fly, he only thought of securing 
 his own safety and of coming to the assistance of friends 
 who might be mixed up in the disturbance. 
 
 It happened by chance that he was hiding under the 
 same doorway as M. de Cazalis. Recognising the ex- 
 deputy, he repressed a gesture of astonishment, and being 
 aware of the hatred he bore the Cayols, he rightly attributed 
 his presence, under a disguise, to thoughts of vengeance. 
 He had noticed Philippe on the barricade, and he now 
 began to watch M. de Cazalis, who, with his musket on 
 a level with his hip, seemed to be waiting. The Republican 
 having stood up to reload his weapon, the Legitimist 
 brought his gun sharply to his shoulder and fired, but 
 Sauvaire, feigning to slip, knocked up against him, and 
 the bullet was flattened out against the far-acle of a house. 
 
 M. de Cazalis was exasperated, but did not dare show 
 his temper to the captain, under whose orders he had 
 voluntarily placed himself. He slid another charge into 
 his gun, repressing an outburst of rage, whilst Sauvaire 
 said to himself: 
 
 " Eh ! the deuce ! the Cayols are my friends. Little 
 Marius gave me many a good laugh in the old days with 
 Clairon. I won't let them be killed like that. We must 
 be on the alert." 
 
 And from that moment, he forgot he was a captain 
 and only thought of affording little Marius pleasure, by 
 saving Philippe. 
 
 The latter had no idea of the danger he had just 
 escaped. Excited by the struggle, he fought as one in 
 despair. All his doubts had left him, he imagined he was. 
 defending his child. He fired upon the troops, because 
 the troops were firing on the house where Fine and Joseph 
 were. That was his great anxiety. At every instant, he 
 raised his eyes towards the window of the room, and 
 turned pale when he saw a bullet shatter one of the panes
 
 350 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 of glass to pieces. M. de Girousse, with superb contempt 
 for peril, leant out, every now and then, from an adjoining 
 window to get a better view. He tranquillized Philippe 
 with a wave of the hand and then enjoyed, as an amateur, 
 the sight afforded by the barricade. 
 
 The struggle continued thus for nearly half an hour, 
 soldiers and rioters exchanging bullets at distant intervals. 
 There were awful silences of two or three minutes; then 
 came a shot, a cry, followed by another silence which was 
 still more oppressive than the previous one. The soldiers' 
 red trousers made capital targets for the workmen, who 
 were thus able to kill a great many men. As for themselves 
 they were better sheltered; nevertheless, as soon as ever 
 a shot was fired from a window, that window was at 
 once riddled with bullets. The rioters, who had gone up 
 to the tops of the houses, and from there cast down 
 showers of stones, suffered more. Men were several times 
 seen to topple over from the roofs and come down on 
 the pavement in a coadjulated mass, picked off like 
 sparrows. 
 
 The fighting might have gone on in this manner until 
 the evening. This skirmishing sort of warfare was in reality, 
 much more murderous than a bold, decisive attack would 
 have been, and some thirty corpses were already weltering 
 in pools of blood on the ground. 
 
 Marius had descended into the street at the first shot. 
 Not having been able to prevent the struggle, he wished 
 at least to assist those who were fighting. By his care, 
 an ambulance was established in a shop on the square, 
 and he displayed great activity in seeing that the wounded 
 were carried there. At one moment as he was passing 
 behind the barricade, a man fell beside him mortally 
 struck. He leant over him, and was astonished to find 
 it was Charles Bletry, the dishonest clerk of the firm of 
 Daste and Degans. The unfortunate fellow recognised 
 him also, and seeing the young man hastening to attend 
 to him, he said with a faint smile : 
 
 " It's useless, Monsieur Marius, it's all over, I am going 
 to die. Ah ! Heaven is good indeed to have sent you 
 to me !"
 
 THE ATTACK. 351 
 
 He continued with an effort, his fingers already becoming 
 rigid : 
 
 "I swear to you I never discharged my gun. I was 
 led astray by friends, I had to do as others did. Listen, 
 I want you to render me a service. Promise me you will 
 perform my last wish." 
 
 Bletry raised himself, painfully, and unfastened a belt 
 round his waist. While handing it to Marius, he was 
 seized with a convulsion, and as the belt fell to the ground 
 a few pieces of money came out of it. As soon as the 
 former clerk was in a condition to speak, he said : 
 
 "That belt contains a hundred francs. Kindly hand 
 it to Messrs. Daste and Degans, and tell them it is not 
 my fault if I have not been able to reimburse them all 
 the money I turned to such bad account." 
 
 And as Marius looked at him in astonishment, he mur- 
 mured in a voice that was dying away : 
 
 " You don't know. They let me off two years. I have 
 now been out of prison for three years, and during that 
 time have been working as a navvy. On the hundred 
 and thirty francs I have been earning each month, I have 
 made a point of handing a hundred, regularly, to my 
 former employers. I have not been able to refund more 
 than three thousand and a few hundred francs, but I had 
 hopes of earning more later on, and I had intended 
 devoting all my life to the repayment of my debt. Death 
 has come too soon." 
 
 The words were distorted in his throat. He had a 
 short death struggle, and expired, his features convulsed 
 and his limbs rigid. 
 
 Marius had felt a sort of respect in presence of this 
 terrible death. The wretched being who was lying there, 
 seemed so full of grief and remorse. He picked up the belt 
 and was going away with it, when he heard a dreadful noise 
 in the direction of the Rues de la Lime d'Or and Vieille 
 Monnaie. All at once he saw the soldiers and National 
 Guards advance from those streets and invade the square. 
 
 During the few minutes Marius had spent with Bletry 
 serious events had been occurring. While the firing 
 continued at the barricade in the Grande Rue, two other
 
 352 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 bodies of troops had attacked the rioters by the narrow 
 thoroughfares in the old town. 
 
 A column came to lay siege to the Place aux QEufs by 
 the Rue Requis Novis, but on reaching the Rue Pierre 
 qui Rage, and perceiving the barricade the rioters had 
 erected there, it halted. A police commissary, who was 
 at the head, then advanced, and exhorted the work- 
 men to return peacefully to their occupations. The only 
 answer they gave was that the people had been provoked; 
 and, almost at the same moment, he had his arm broken 
 with a bullet. He had barely time to withdraw, when 
 firing became general, and was accompanied by an 
 avalanche of stones and tiles falling on the soldiers' heads. 
 There was a noise like the rumbling sound of thunder, 
 and the street became full of smoke. The soldiers in 
 surprise, threw themselves on either side, along the houses; 
 and a skirmishing warfare commenced as in the Grande 
 Rue. These encounters at cross roads are terrible, fora 
 few men are often able to keep an army at bay. 
 
 While firing was thus proceeding at two points, another 
 column, destined to be more fortunate, advanced towards 
 the barricade, blocking up the Grande Rue, from the side 
 of the Law Courts. This column which had come from 
 the Hotel de Ville, did not approach very near. As soon 
 as one of the sentinels had fired, it withdrew ; and seeing 
 it was impossible to carry the entrenchment without 
 artillery, decided on turning the position. 
 
 It, therefore, entered the Rue Belzunce, where it found 
 some thirty rioters who fired and then ran away, some 
 into the Rue des Marquises, the others into the Rues 
 Sainte Marthe, Sainte Barbe and Moulin d' Huile. The 
 soldiers followed them at double quick time, receiving a 
 few shots to which they answered, and searching, more- 
 over, two or three houses where they arrested a certain 
 number of people; but they did not dare enter the Rue 
 des Marquises, which would have led them straight to 
 the Place aux CEufs. This street, which they supposed 
 to be barricaded, seemed to them narrow and dangerous 
 and they feared being crushed beneath an avalanche of 
 objects cast from the roofs and windows.
 
 THE ATTACK. 353 
 
 The column continued turning the stronghold. On 
 reaching the Place Sainte Martin, it divided : one part 
 going into the Rue de la Lune d'Or and the other into 
 the Rue de la Vieille Monnaie. The idea was to issue 
 in a body on the Place aux CEufs, where as a matter of 
 fact, two of the detachments arrived almost simultaneously. 
 
 The soldiers rushed on to the barricades, which on this 
 side had been less solidly built, and the rioters, surprised 
 at this irresistible charge, fled in disorder, seeking refuge in 
 the houses. There they stopped the column, for a few 
 moments, by opening a well-fed fire upon it from the 
 windows. But this fire soon slackened, and the soldiers 
 passing beneath the bullets at the double, found themselves 
 in the centre of the Place aux CEufs. When Marius per- 
 ceived the uniforms of the conquerors, he understood his 
 brother would be lost if he were not able to place him 
 beyond danger of arrest. He ran to the barricade in the 
 Grande Rue, where Philippe, with his back turned 
 to the square, had been so busy with the defence 
 on that side, that he had not perceived the victory 
 of the military in the rear. Marius soon found him, but 
 as the two brothers set out towards the house where Fine 
 and Joseph were, they saw that they would not have time 
 to reach the door, so they rushed in at another one, 
 which was opposite, and barricaded the entrance in despair, 
 not daring to refer to their mutual alarm at being obliged 
 to abandon the young woman and child. 
 
 A frightful tumult reigned on the square. As soon as 
 the rioters saw the soldiers and National Guard advanc- 
 ing to secure the position, they imitated Philippe and 
 Marius and fled for refuge into the adjoining houses. 
 The columns attacking the barricades in the Grande Rue, 
 and the Rue Requis Novis, were at first astounded to see 
 the firing cease. Then, guessing what was taking place, 
 they removed the abandoned obstructions and advanced 
 to join the conquerors. The square was thus full of troops, 
 preparing to besiege the houses amidst a most deafening 
 din. It was at that moment that the man watching over 
 the three prisoners in the little shop, fled. Matheus 
 slipped into the crowd and disappeared; whilst M. Mar- 
 
 23
 
 354 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 telly and Abbe Chastanier, sad and motionless, remained 
 standing on the threshold, in the expectation of terrible 
 reprisals; and, occasionally, the inquisitive head of M. 
 Girousse showed itself at the window, which he had not 
 left since the commencement of the action. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 IN WHICH MATHEUS, AT LAST, GETS JOSEPH 
 IN HIS ARMS. 
 
 SAUVAIRE had lost sight of M. de Cazalis on entering the 
 stronghold, and was furious at not being able to discover 
 where he could have got to, after having had the trouble 
 of watching him, for nearly an hour, under a doorway. 
 The worthy man continued to ignore his rank of cap- 
 tain. He had one fixed idea, that of coming to the 
 assistance of the brother of his friend Marius. He turned 
 about on the square, anxious and embarrassed, when it all 
 at once occurred to him that Philippe must be hidden 
 in Fine's old abode. He looked at the house and caught 
 sight of the head of M. de Girousse. 
 
 " Eh ! I say, you, up there ! " he shouted to the old 
 Count, " come down quick and open the door ? " 
 
 M. de Girousse who was extremely anxious about 
 Philippe, decided to go down, knowing that the two 
 brothers had taken refuge in the house opposite, and 
 hoping to be of some help to them, but when he was 
 once below in the corridor, he found himself in the 
 presence of the rioters, who had fastened the bolts, and 
 would not allow him to go out. 
 
 He succeeded, however, with some trouble, in making 
 them set the door ajar, and after pushing him out, they 
 again closed it. Sauvaire and M. de Girousse found 
 themselves face to face. 
 
 " Eh ! the deuce ! " exclaimed the ex-master stevedore, 
 "you should have left the door open. I am going to 
 have you arrested." 
 
 The nobleman examined the captain with curiosity.
 
 MATHEUS GETS JOSEPH IN HIS ARMS. 355 
 
 "You are going to have me arrested," he said; "Well! 
 arrest me yourself, and kindly conduct me to the persons 
 who are over there." 
 
 He pointed to M. Martelly and Abbe Chastanier. 
 Sauvaire accompanied him, and apologized, when he heard 
 he had put his hand on a Count and wealthy landlord. 
 
 " It only required transportation," said M. de Girousse 
 laughing, "for my day to be complete!" 
 
 He then held a whispered conversation with the ship- 
 owner, and explained to him the position. 
 
 "We saw nothing of all that," said M. Martelly, "they 
 shut us up in that shop, in the company of an individual 
 who looked like a regular villain. Do you say Philippe 
 and Marius are hidden in that house there ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I am very much afraid they have been 
 arrested, but the worst of it is, that I have left Marius' 
 wife and Philippe's child in that other house." 
 
 This news completed making the ship-owner quite sad. 
 Abbe Chastanier, however, pointed out that Fine and 
 Joseph were not running any very great danger: if the 
 house were sacked, there would always be time to intervene, 
 but they must think above all of the two brothers, and endea- 
 vour to assist them to. escape. The misfortune was, that it 
 seemed almost impossible to do anything to help them. 
 
 In the meanwhile the troops who had invaded the 
 rioters' stronghold were not inactive. A few shots were 
 still being fired from windows, here and there, and this 
 had to be put a stop to. So the order was given to 
 take, by assault, all the houses that were closed, and on 
 the roofs of which the insurgents were discharging their 
 last cartridges. A few sappers were sent forward and 
 these began hacking at the doors with their axes. 
 
 Sauvaire was in despair. He wished to lead the soldiers 
 away from the dwelling where he supposed Philippe was 
 hidden, but could see no way of doing so. He got his 
 men together, posted them on the opposite side of the 
 square, and set them searching other buildings. But 
 unfortunately a shot was fired from the very house he 
 wished to protect. A lieutenant was wounded, and all 
 the soldiers rushed towards the door.
 
 356 THE MYSTERIES OF ^lARSEILLES. 
 
 "The idiots! " murmured Sauvaire, "what need had they 
 to wound that man ! Now my young friend's affair is settled. >r 
 
 He approached, wishing at least to be one of the first 
 .to enter the place. 
 
 While these events were occurring, Matheus and M. de 
 Cazalis were engaged in animated conversation in a cor- 
 ner of the square. The spy, with his piercing eyes, had 
 perceived his master in the midst of a crowd as soon as- 
 he got out of the shop. When he had taken him aside,, 
 he said, in a jeering tone : 
 
 " Well ! don't you congratulate me ? I have been doing 
 a tremendous lot of work. " 
 
 " I didn't see you on the barricade," answered the ex- 
 deputy. 
 
 " Of course ! those simpletons took the precaution of 
 placing me beyond danger of the bullets, by shutting me 
 up in a shop, and I feel very thankful to them for doing- 
 so. Come, victory is on our side. " 
 
 " Where did you take the child to ? " 
 
 " Eh ! you're in too great a hurry. I'll hand you the 
 child presently. Look ! he is there, in that house, where 
 they are bursting open the door. " 
 
 Matheus then explained to M. de Cazalis what he haor 
 done, and what there still remained to do. He was cer- 
 tain of success. 
 
 " However, " he added, " we must act promptly. They 
 imprisoned with me, I was unable to understand why,, 
 two friends of the Cayols. Look ! they're still standing 
 on the threshold of our common gaol. I am afraid 
 their presence will be to our disadvantage. " 
 
 M. de Cazalis looked, and recognised M. Martelly andi 
 Abbe Chastanier. He did not see M. de Girousse, who 
 was turning his back to him. 
 
 " Bah ! " he murmured, " they're not troubling about us. 
 To work, Matheus! I'll double the promised reward if 
 you succeed. " 
 
 The sappers had just given the first strokes of the axe,, 
 which were producing dull thuds on the door. 
 
 " And do you know where that villain Philippe has got 
 to?" inquired M. de Cazalis.
 
 MATHEUS GETS JOSEPH IX HIS ARMS. 357 
 
 " I hope he's been arrested, " answered Matheus, " in 
 any case he will be caught if he has taken refuge in the 
 house. Have no anxiety, his affair is settled, he'll get at 
 least ten years' transportation. " 
 
 " I'd sooner finish with him here. I had him at the 
 end of my gun. Aren't you afraid that if he be in the 
 house, he will interfere with your plans ? " 
 
 "Bah! he's hidden at the bottom of some cupboard. 
 Look out ! the door is giving way. Don't meddle with 
 anything, watch me act, if it amuses you, and as soon 
 as I have the child, follow me quickly. We'll settle our 
 account later on. " 
 
 Matheus left his master in the centre of the square 
 and mixed with the soldiers. The axes of the sappers 
 had cut through the woodwork of the door, and although 
 the hinges and lock still held good, it was on the point 
 of being broken down. Sauvaire had followed this per- 
 formance with anxiety. He had counted on gathering 
 his own men together, and entering the house first. Just 
 as the door began to give way, he felt a hand on his 
 arm, and turning round, recognised his old manager Cadet,' 
 Fine's brother. The young man dragged him quickly 
 aside, and in a choking voice asked : 
 
 "What has happened? Have you seen my sister?" 
 
 But before the ex-master stevedore could answer, he 
 continued : 
 
 " I and my men have been confined to the office since 
 this morning. The authorities, being aware of my opinions, 
 placed a picket of National Guards at my door, and I 
 have only just been able to escape. I ran to my brother- 
 in-law's lodging, on the Cours Bonaparte, and found the 
 house emptv. Goodness, gracious! what has happened? 
 Speak, quick ! " 
 
 "Good Heavens!" murmured Sauvaire, "a misfortune 
 never comes singly. The whole family must be in this 
 house." 
 
 "Do you think my sister is there?" 
 
 " Eh! I don't know. What I do know is that I saw Phi- 
 lippe, on the barricade fighting like a maniac. All ! my poor 
 Cadet. I'm very much afraid all this will end very badly.
 
 358 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 But I forgot: your enemy is prowling about the square.'' 
 
 " What enemy ? " 
 
 "M. de Cazalis. He's disguised as a National Guard.'' 
 
 Cadet shuddered. All at once he perceived the door 
 had been broken in. 
 
 " Let's run there quick ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 As soon as the entrance was clear, a swarm of soldiers 
 rushed forward, but three or four shots were fired from 
 the staircase and the "besiegers withdrew in disorder. 
 For a few moments no one dared penetrate within the 
 passage. The insurgents had spent their last cartridges, 
 and after this show of defence, had bounded up on 
 to the roof to try and escape. After the first moment of 
 panic, the soldiers made up their minds to advance 
 cautiously to the foot of the staircase; then, seeing they 
 met with no resistance, they invaded the house and 
 searched in every corner. 
 
 Sauvaire and Cadet had committed the imprudence of 
 retiring a short distance away, for the purpose of talking, 
 and when they endeavoured to approach the door again, 
 'they found themselves behind a regular crowd, which 
 prevented them advancing. Notwithstanding all their 
 efforts they had to beat time a long while, and when they 
 at last entered, they were only able to get up the staircase 
 very slowly, on account of its being so full of soldiers and 
 National Guards. 
 
 As they reached the third floor they were jostled by a 
 man who was running away and knocking up against 
 everyone. This individual, whom the besiegers took for a 
 terrified lodger, had a child in his arms. He passed so 
 rapidly, half hiding his charge beneath his frock coat, that 
 Cadet did not get a good view of him; the young man, 
 however, turned round, as if feeling a presentiment that 
 something was wrong, but the man had then already 
 descended five or six stairs. Fine's brother, pushed on 
 by Sauvaire, who had seen nothing, continued to ascend, 
 and soon found himself at the entrance to the little lodging. 
 
 This door was wide open, and in the middle of the 
 first room, Fine lay unconscious on the ground. Joseph 
 had disappeared.
 
 HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT. 359 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT. 
 
 FINE'S anguish during the struggle, had been terrible. 
 Each shot had made her tremble, for she thought to herself 
 with horror, that the bullet had perhaps killed one of hers. 
 She would have liked to have been below in the street, 
 sharing the peril of Marius and Philippe, but the necessity 
 of looking after Joseph confined her to that room where 
 she was dying with anxiety. The poor child was as white 
 as a sheet and his teeth were set firmly together, but he 
 was not crying. With his face hidden in the young 
 woman's lap, and his little arms clutching her waist, he 
 stood motionless and mute. 
 
 On several occasions bullets entered by the window, 
 cutting up the furniture and becoming embedded in the 
 wall. Fine gazed at the holes made by these projectiles 
 with stupor. She tried to make herself smaller, caught up 
 Joseph, and clasped him closely in her arms. She did not 
 care about herself, but an icy shiver ran through her frame 
 when she thought that a bullet might rebound and strike 
 the child she was pressing to her bosom. 
 
 This torment lasted more than an hour, she listened 
 with anxiety to the least sound. All at once from the 
 tumult that arose from the Square, she understood that 
 the barricades had been carried. She felt relieved, but 
 this feeling was soon followed by increased anxiety. As 
 the firing had ceased, she ventured to approach the win- 
 dow, and throw a glance outside. 
 
 Suddenly she was seized with the most horrible fear. 
 She asked herself why Marius and Philippe had not come 
 upstairs again after the barricades had been taken ? They 
 ought to have hurried up there, to hide themselves beside 
 her. If they had not come, it was because they were 
 taken prisoners or perhaps killed. Her mind which was 
 tormented with the most frightful thoughts, would admit 
 of no other solution. Then, it seemed to her that she 
 saw her husband and brother-in-law, stretched out welter-
 
 360 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 ing in their blood, or being led away to prison by the 
 soldiers, and these pictures, which she conjured up in her 
 terrible grief, caused her to burst out sobbing. 
 
 As she was gazing on the square, she perceived the 
 troops rushing towards the house. She rapidly withdrew 
 from the window, and almost immediately heard the blows 
 of the axes. Joseph began to fret; his fright which had 
 hitherto been mute, now showed itself in most piercing 
 cries. He called his father, clung to Fine's neck, yelled 
 out that he didn't want the soldiers to come and take him. 
 
 The poor child's shrieks had the effect of causing the 
 young woman to completely lose her head. She rushed 
 on to the staircase, wanted to go down and run to Marius 
 and Philippe. But she had not reached the second floor 
 before she heard the door give way and fall in. At the 
 same instant the rioters who were hidden in the corridor 
 hastened upstairs, after having discharged their weapons. 
 For a moment she hesitated; a muffled sound came from 
 the vestibule, and she soon heard the footsteps of the 
 besiegers approaching her. She remained firm, and would, 
 perhaps, have stayed there, if, leaning over the ban- 
 nister, she had not caught sight of the man who was 
 coming up first. That man was Matheus. She thought 
 herself in presence of the phantom of her despair. As 
 if fascinated, with her eyes increased in volume with 
 horror, she ascended the stairs one by one, retreating 
 before Matheus who never ceased glaring at her. As she 
 entered the room, and before she had time to shut herself 
 in, he sprang upon her, and tore Joseph from her arms. 
 She uttered a faint cry; which was the only defence she 
 could offer, for she was broken-down with emotion and 
 staggering on her legs. When she no longer felt the child 
 in her arms, she stretched her hands out before her as if 
 to regain possession of the dear treasure, and, encounter- 
 ing naught but emptiness, fell stiff to the floor. 
 
 None of the soldiers who were searching the house 
 noticed this scene, but the abduction had all the same 
 been witnessed by two people in a neighbouring building. 
 
 The house in which Marius and Philippe had taken 
 refuge by chance, stood at the corner of the square on
 
 HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT. 361 
 
 the other side of the Grande Rue. By a happy circumstance 
 the two brothers were the only insurgents who had entered 
 it, and as soon as they were inside, they had bolted the 
 door. The staircase was silent and deserted and the 
 tenants who were barricaded in their respective dwellings, 
 took very good care not to show themselves. Marius and 
 Philippe sat down for a moment on the first stair, and 
 held council. They hardly knew how they would be able 
 to escape the search of the soldiers who, from one moment 
 to another, might burst the door open. The only chance 
 remaining to them was to escape by the roofs; but this 
 retreat would be very dangerous; and, besides, although 
 the peril of remaining where they were was intense, they 
 wished to do so in order to make sure that Fine and 
 Joseph ran no risk. 
 
 " We ought not to have abandoned them," said Philippe; 
 " it was cowardly on our part, to have thought only of our 
 own personal safety." 
 
 " Don't let us despair," answered Marius, who had been 
 endeavouring to comfort himself, whilst trying to assuage 
 his brother's anxiety. " We should have perhaps done 
 ourselves needless harm. Fine is strong and courageous." 
 
 " No matter, I'll only consent to fly when my mind's 
 easy on their account. Listen ! They're breaking in a 
 door. Let us go up quick." 
 
 They ascended to the first floor and saw with the greatest 
 alarm, that the house which was being besieged was the 
 one opposite. For the space of a few minutes they re- 
 mained motionless and breathless: each stroke of the axe 
 found an echo in their breasts. Never in their lives had 
 they felt such emotion. They followed the different phases 
 of the siege with painful anxiety, but their greatest suffering, 
 after all, was their powerlessness to do anything: they could 
 not run to the assistance of those whom they believed in 
 peril, but' must stay where they were with their hands tied, 
 and watch this onslaught of a crowd of furious soldiers. 
 
 All at once Philippe uttered a savage cry. He had just 
 caught sight of Matheus in the first rank of the besiegers 
 and pointed him out to his brother. 
 
 "Ah! the wretch," he murmured bitterlv, "I ought to
 
 362 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 have let them hang him. He must have escaped, and 
 is there to steal Joseph." 
 
 He was turning round, when another cry escaped him, 
 and he pointed out to Marius a National Guard half 
 hidden behind one of the trees on the square. 
 
 "Cazalis!" he exclaimed in a choking tone, and bringing 
 his musket to his shoulder he continued: 
 
 " I have but one bullet left, and it shall be for him." 
 
 He was about to fire, but Marius tore the gun away 
 from him saying: 
 
 "No unnecessary murder! We shall perhaps want that 
 bullet. It's regular foul play." 
 
 At the same moment the door gave way beneath the 
 blows of the axe. 
 
 " Let's go up higher," continued Marius. 
 
 They ascended to the third floor where a terrible sight 
 awaited them. Exactly opposite was the window of the 
 room where Fine and Joseph were. They saw the young 
 woman wringing her hands, but were unable to cry out 
 to her, amidst the tumult, that they were watching over 
 her, and they were thus pale and trembling spectators of 
 the abduction. When Fine went downstairs they followed 
 her with their eyes, each window having a landing looking 
 on to the street. Then, they saw her come up again, retreat- 
 ing before Matheus. The next thing was Matheus entering 
 the room and tearing Joseph from the young woman's arms. 
 
 Marius returned Philippe his musket saying to him in a 
 husky voice: 
 
 "I felt we should have need of that last cartridge." 
 
 Philippe brought the weapon to his shoulder, but the 
 barrel shook in his hand's. He was afraid of hitting his 
 son, and so Matheus was able to leave the room and 
 commence going downstairs. When the villain passed 
 before the window on the second floor landing, Philippe 
 again felt himself shaking and could not pull the trigger. 
 
 " If you let him reach the street," murmured Marius, 
 "we shall lose the child." 
 
 Then Philippe made a violent effort and recovered his 
 customary coolness. He rested the barrel on the window 
 sill and waited for Matheus to pass again.
 
 HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT. 363 
 
 As the spy, who continued to descend, placed his foot 
 on the first floor landing, the gun went off. 
 
 Sauvaire and Cadet, who were attending to Fine, raised 
 their heads at the report, and perceived the two brothers 
 leaning anxiously out of one of the windows on the 
 other side of the street, endeavouring to find out the 
 effect of the shot. The ex-master stevedore uttered a cry 
 of surprise and satisfaction : he now knew the whereabouts 
 of those whom he wished to protect. Cadet had a sudden 
 presentiment of what had just occurred. Not having found 
 the child in the room, he had at once thought of the 
 man who had dashed past him on the stairs. He ran 
 down as fast as he could, and found a strange sight 
 awaiting him on the first floor. 
 
 Matheus with his head smashed, was lying on the 
 landing. In falling, he had opened his arms, and Joseph 
 had slipped on to him without doing himself any injury. 
 Philippe's bullet had lodged in the spy's skull passing 
 close to the child's forehead. The latter recovering from 
 the fainting fit which had helped Matheus to carry him 
 off easily, and resting half on the corpse began to cry 
 bitterly. Cadet pushed aside the dead body and took 
 the little boy in his arms. He had got half way upstairs, 
 again, when a sudden thought struck him, and going down 
 again he searched the corpse, taking all the papers he 
 could find on it. These, he was sure, would be useful. 
 
 When he returned to the room on the third floor, he 
 found Sauvaire very much embarrassed, not knowing what 
 remedy to administer to Fine who was still unconscious. 
 The worthy man had confined himself to placing her on 
 the bed, and Cadet put Joseph beside her. The child 
 immediately clasped the young woman round the neck, 
 nestling close up to her, quite happy at having his 
 favourite place again, and brought her back to life with 
 his caresses. She raised herself up and kissed Joseph 
 passionately. It seemed to her that she was awakening 
 from a frightful nightmare. All of a sudden she turned 
 pale again. 
 
 "Where are Marius and Philippe?" she inquired. "Hide 
 nothing from me, I beg of you."
 
 364 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 When Cadet had pointed out the two brothers to her 
 in the adjoining house she remained for a time motionless 
 -and quite absorbed with joy. All danger was not over 
 for them, assuredly, but they lived, and for the moment 
 she did not ask for anything more. Philippe and Marius 
 also had good cause to be thankful. The former, after 
 having discharged his gun, felt quite overcome, his eyes 
 were bursting with tears and he uttered a cry of 
 terror on seeing Matheus and the child fall. For an 
 instant, he felt as if he were choking, being unable to 
 distinguish, through the smoke, whether he had struck his 
 son or not. But when Marius heard the cries of the little 
 one whom Cadet had just brought into the room, he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Look!" 
 
 Then the two brothers followed the scene that was 
 passing before them with profound happiness. They saw 
 Fine and Joseph safe and sound, and said to each other 
 that they ran little risk themselves, now that they had 
 friends at hand to defend them. What gave them still 
 further confidence was to see M. Martelly and Abbe Chas- 
 tanier go up into the room conducted there by M. de 
 Girousse. These three gentlemen had followed the soldiers 
 into the house in order to protect the young woman, and 
 had no idea of the rapid drama that had just occurred 
 there. The sight of the corpse on the staircase had made 
 them run up hurriedly, and as soon as they reached the 
 room, they heard what had happened from Fine and Cadet. 
 
 "This Cazalis is a scoundrel," exclaimed M. de 
 Girousse, "I'll undertake to settle him. But before all, 
 we must think of how we can shelter Marius and Philippe 
 from the search of the troops. Indeed, there is no time 
 to lose. Look ! " 
 
 He pointed to the square. The position of the two 
 brothers was becoming critical. The shot fired by Philippe 
 had attracted the attention of the troops to the house 
 where they had taken refuge, and sappers were already 
 belabouring the door with heavy blows from their axes. 
 
 "They have only one chance of safety," said M. 
 Martelly, "to try and escape by the roofs."
 
 HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT. 365 
 
 "That's impossible," answered Cadet excitedly. "The 
 house is much higher than those adjoining it. They're 
 lost." 
 
 Fine felt herself going mad with despair again. All 
 those in the room were racking their brains in vain, and 
 the blows from the axe were becoming more and more 
 violent. Suddenly M. de Girousse addressed Sauvaire,. 
 whom Cadet had presented to him as a friend. 
 
 "Cannot you make your men stop?" he inquired. 
 
 "Eh! no," exclaimed the captain in despair, "think 
 you they obey so easily as that in the National Guard ? 
 wait a moment, wait a moment 
 
 Sauvaire opened his eyes quite wide, and it could be 
 seen that some conception was being painfully evolved 
 in his mind. All at once he said: 
 
 " I have an idea, come with me, Cadet." 
 
 The two men ran rapidly downstairs, and M. dc Girousse 
 and the others awaited their return with the most painful 
 concern. At length they made their appearance, each 
 carrying a bundle of clothes, and Cadet at once made signs 
 to Marius and Philippe to open the window behind which 
 they were concealing themselves. When they had under- 
 stood what he meant, and conformed to his injunctions, 
 the ypung man at the expense of considerable strength 
 and dexterity, threw the two bundles over to them. The 
 soldiers being busy below with the door, failed to see 
 what was passing above. 
 
 Such was the idea that Sauvaire had conceived. Accom- 
 panied by Cadet, he had gone to an ambulance where 
 about a dozen wounded National Guards were lying, and 
 had there quietly stolen two complete uniforms amidst 
 the confusion of amputations and the dressing of wounds. 
 
 Philippe and Marius had had all the gravity of their 
 position brought home to them, and were on the point 
 of deciding to attempt escape by the roofs, when they 
 understood that their friends were busying themselves 
 about their safety. As soon as they had the uniforms, 
 they rushed up into the lofts where thev attired themselves 
 as National Guards, and had barelv had time to do so 
 and to throw their own clothes out of a window looking
 
 366 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 on to a neighbouring courtyard, when they heard the 
 front door giving way. They at once hid themselves ; but, 
 after a moment or two, cleverly mingled with the swarm 
 of besiegers, whom they pretended to assist in the search, 
 and eventually quietly walked out into the street where 
 they found M. de Girousse and Sauvaire awaiting them. 
 A short distance further off, on the square, were Cadet and 
 Fine, with M. Martelly and Abbe Chastanier. The young 
 Avoman, who was carrying little Joseph, had expressed the 
 desire to return at once to the lodging on the Cours 
 Bonaparte. As soon as she perceived Marius and Philippe 
 in the street, she moved away looking behind her at 
 every step. She had requested M. de Girousse to follow 
 her with the two brothers. 
 
 Philippe and Marius warmly shook the ex-master steve- 
 dore's hand, unable to utter a word of thanks. 
 
 " All right, all right," murmured the worthy man, who 
 was very much affected, " the least one can do is to 
 assist one's friends, hang it! But we must have order, 
 you see, before everything! The National Guard was 
 only formed to preserve order. I'm the man for duty!" 
 
 And he began to cry out against the National Guards 
 who were all in a flutter on the square, whilst M. de 
 Girousse and the two brothers rapidly moved away. 
 
 As Sauvaire was trying to get his men together, he 
 perceived M. de Cazalis behind a tree looking pale and 
 anxious. He pretended not to see him and watched his 
 movements. The ex-deputy could not understand the 
 strange events that were passing around him. Since 
 Matheus had disappeared in the house, he awaited his 
 return without being able to form any idea of what was 
 occurring. When he saw Fine appear with little Joseph, 
 when he perceived that his enemies were miraculously 
 escaping from all his snares, he was agitated with sullen 
 rage. What added to his anger was his being tortured 
 by the idea that Matheus had betrayed him. 
 
 "What can the scoundrel be doing?" he murmured. 
 " He's sold himself to the Cayols and has helped them 
 to escape." 
 
 At last, unable to restrain himself any longer, he made
 
 HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT. 367 
 
 up his mind to go and see what Matheus could be doing 
 in that house which he did not leave. Had he met him, 
 he would have strangled him. On reaching the first floor 
 landing he came in contact with his accomplice's corpse. 
 Livid, terrified, and with his mouth wide open he stood 
 and stared at it. Then, he abruptly stooped down and 
 searched it. When he found the pockets were empty, 
 he was in despair, and giving the dead man's body an 
 angry kick he hurried rapidly away. 
 
 "I knew very well," thought Sauvaire, who had not lost 
 sight of him, " that that bird of ill-omen must have had 
 something to do with the abduction of the child." 
 
 The struggle, however, was over, and the troops victorious. 
 It was about four o'clock. The resistance had been smart 
 but of short duration. The principal leaders of the rioters 
 had fled as soon as the barricades were captured, but a 
 great many workmen were made prisoners. Those who 
 were unable to escape by the roofs of the houses where 
 they had taken refuge, were discovered in the cellars, 
 cupboards, under the beds, in the chimneys and even in 
 the wells, where they had thought they would have been 
 in safety. When the houses had been searched, the six 
 barricades were removed and the Place aux CEufs occupied 
 by the military. 
 
 There was a family gathering at Marius' apartment in 
 the evening. The young couple, Philippe and Joseph, 
 had found themselves united again amidst tears of joy 
 and tenderness. M. de Giroussc troubled their happiness 
 by pointing out that it was necessary to make Philippe 
 disappear as soon as possible, if they did not want to see 
 him despatched to one of the colonies. He offered to 
 take him with him to Lambesc on the following day and 
 hide him at one of his houses, and this suggestion was 
 gratefully accepted. In the meanwhile Philippe was to 
 stay with M. Martelly. 
 
 When he had left, M. de Girousse had a long conversation 
 with Marius about M. de Cazalis. Cadet had handed his 
 brother-in-law the papers he had found in the spy's pocket, 
 and among them was the letter which the latter had insisted 
 on his master giving him, and in which he was guaranteed
 
 368 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 a sum of money for Joseph's abduction. This document 
 was a terrible arm. Henceforth the Cayols would be able 
 to make Blanche's uncle disgorge. But Marius thought 
 the best thing would be not to claim anything from M. 
 de Cazalis, confining themselves to preserving the letter 
 as a constant threat and so restrain the ex-deputy from 
 taking any steps against Philippe. A scandal, he thought, 
 would only reflect on the whole family. 
 
 M. de Girousse expressed his warm approbation of this 
 disinterested attitude and undertook to see M. de Cazalis 
 personally. The next day he called on him and had an 
 interview that lasted two hours. No one ever knew the 
 tenor of the conversation between the two noblemen, but 
 from the loud, angry tones that reached the servants' 
 hall, it is supposed that M. de Girousse must have bitterly 
 reproached the former deputy with his unworthy behav- 
 iour and have crushed him with the heel of an upright 
 man, in order to wring from him the necessary formal 
 promise to desist from further persecution. It was thus 
 that the nobility, in regard to this matter, washed their 
 dirty linen in private. When M. de Girousse withdrew, 
 the servants noticed that their master accompanied him 
 humbly to the door, with lips firmly set together and pale 
 cheeks. 
 
 An hour later the old Count and Philippe were driving 
 along the road to Lambesc in a cabriolet. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 THE DUEL. 
 
 A YEAR after the sanguinary events just related, the shadow 
 of death passed again over Marseilles and the entire city 
 was touched by it. It was no longer a question of a few 
 dozen wounded : people were struck down by hundreds. 
 Civil war had been followed by the cholera. 
 
 A history of the numerous and terrible epidemics that 
 have decimated Marseilles, would be a most painful one. 
 The position of the city in a warm climate, its constant
 
 THE DUEL. 369 
 
 connection with Asia, the filth of its old streets, every- 
 thing seems to fatally indicate it as a hot-bed of infection 
 where contagious diseases spread with frightful rapidity. 
 It is threatened as soon as ever summer comes round. 
 At the least negligence, if by mishap the scourge is allowed 
 to enter the city, it never fails to gain all the coast line, 
 and, from there to spread throughout France. The epidemic 
 of 1849 was relatively benign. It broke out about the 
 middle of August, and it is stated that it was not serious 
 until a convoy of invalided troops were landed from Rome 
 and Algiers. Fifty of these soldiers succumbed, it is said, 
 on the night following their arrival. From that moment 
 the disease had taken firm hold in Marseilles. 
 
 Amidst the outbursts of political passion at that time, 
 the government of the Republic was bitterly reproached 
 with a decree dated August 10, which authorized vessels 
 from the Levant to enter the Port on a simple declaration 
 from the medical man on board. This decree suppressing 
 quarantine, laid the city open to the germs of the disease. 
 The incubation was rather slow. By the end of August 
 there were one hundred and ninety-six victims, but in the 
 following month the mortality was terrible, no less than twelve 
 hundred persons succumbing. The epidemic died out in 
 October, after nearly five hundred more people had been 
 added to the death list. 
 
 The inhabitants were seized with panic from the very 
 outbreak of the disease, and there was a general stampede. 
 The news that the cholera had again visited the city ran 
 from quarter to quarter like a train of gunpowder. A 
 man had died in frightful agony, and the case was forth- 
 with multiplied, old women affirming they had seen more 
 than a hundred burials go by. The people spoke in an 
 undertone of poison, accusing the wealthy of having infected 
 the water at all the pumps, and these statements increased 
 the panic. A poor wretch who was drinking at the 
 fountain on the Cours was nearly massacred because a 
 workman pretended he had seen him throw something 
 into the water. Fright produced terrible effect upon the 
 lively imagination of the crowd. The inhabitants believed 
 a foul vapour was passing over the city, and the women 
 
 24
 
 370 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 walked about the streets with handkerchiefs pressed to 
 their lips. Daring neither to drink nor breathe, the 
 Marseillese hardly existed. 
 
 The city was deserted. All who could run away did 
 so. The country houses in the vicinity were crowded 
 with refugees. There were even families who went and 
 camped out as far as the hills of the Nerthe, preferring 
 to live in the open air under a tent, to remaining in a 
 place where they encountered death at the corner of 
 every street. The wealthy, those who had residences 
 outside or could rent them, were the first to leave ; then 
 the employed, the workmen, the bread-winners who 
 compromised their every-day existence by abandoning 
 the work shops, lost courage in the presence of the scourge, 
 and a great number of them preferred to fly and run the 
 risk of starving, so that Marseilles, little by little, became 
 dismal and empty. 
 
 There remained only men of courage who either re- 
 sisted the epidemic or regarded it with contempt, and the 
 poor wretches who were forced to remain at their posts in 
 spite of their fright. If there were acts of cowardice, such 
 as the sudden disappearance of doctors and functionaries, 
 there were also examples of energy and self-sacrifice. 
 Offices where assistance could be obtained, had been 
 opened in the most severely -visited quarters, from the 
 commencement, and there men devoted themselves, day 
 and night, to the relief of the crazy population who were 
 dying of fright. 
 
 Marius was among the first to offer his services, but 
 in presence of the tears of Fine and Joseph, he had to 
 give way and consent to leave Marseilles. He knew his 
 wife, she would have remained at his side, and shared 
 the danger, and the child would then have run the same 
 risk. The thought that Fine and Joseph might die in his 
 arms had struck Marius with terror, and he had ran away, 
 trembling for the safety of those he loved. 
 
 The family found refuge at a house which they 
 had rented in the Saint Just quarter close to the old 
 country residence of the Cayols. It was then the end of 
 August. Philippe had remained with M. de Girousse at
 
 THE DUEL. 371 
 
 Lambesc for twelve months, and during that time had not 
 set foot in Marseilles, waiting till the days of June were 
 forgotten. Indeed, he was not disturbed. Inquiries were 
 made about him at first, but powerful influence having 
 been exerted on his behalf, further search was abandoned. 
 
 As soon as he learned that the young household was 
 in the suburbs of Marseilles, he bade good-bye to M. de 
 Girousse and hurried off to see his son. He felt weary 
 at Lambesc and soon convinced his brother that he would 
 be able to lodge with him without being guilty of the least 
 imprudence. The cholera had driven all recollection of the 
 rioting out of peoples' minds; and no one thought of going 
 to arrest him at a long league from Marseilles. 
 
 A delightful existence commenced. While the disease 
 was ravaging and striking terror into the city, the inmates 
 of the little country house in the Saint Just quarter were 
 enjoying happy hours and charming tranquillity. They 
 drifted into egotism in spite of themselves; after the terrible 
 blows they had received, they bathed in happiness. It 
 was their turn not to suffer. They went out but little, 
 finding the little enclosure surrounding the house, quite 
 large enough for fresh air and exercise. A fortnight passed 
 very peacefully, then one morning Philippe, who had been 
 dreaming all night of the past, announced that he was 
 going for a walk. He went out in the direction of the 
 mill of Saint Joseph, following the road he had often 
 passed along before to meet Blanche. 
 
 When he came to the little pine wood behind the 
 country house, he thought of that day in May, that after- 
 noon of folly, which had thrown Blanche into his arms 
 and been the misfortune of his existence. That souvenir 
 was both sweet and bitter. He recalled his youth, his 
 mad, burning passion, and at the same time the tears and 
 grief of the only woman he had ever loved. Two great 
 tears rolled down his cheeks without his feeling them. As 
 he wiped them awav, and ga/.cd around him, seeking for 
 the spot where Blanche had sat by his side, he all of a 
 sudden perceived M. de Caxalis, standing motionless in 
 the centre of a path with his terrible eyes fixed upon him. 
 
 The ex-deputy had been among the first to leave Mar-
 
 372 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 seilles. He had taken refuge at his country residence in 
 the Saint Joseph quarter, where he was living alone, and 
 was quite ferocious with suppressed irritation. Since his- 
 interview with M. de Girousse he had fallen into a state 
 of despondency which was broken at distant intervals, by 
 frightful outbursts of passion. Although a year had 
 passed, he still heard the old Count's words of indignation 
 and contempt tinkling in his ears. These words were 
 choking him and he would fain have relieved himself by 
 wreaking vengeance on someone. Understanding that it 
 would be impossible to pick a quarrel with M. cle Girousse, 
 he ardently desired to find himself face to face with Phi- 
 lippe, so to end the matter one way or another, either 
 killing his enemy or being killed by him. 
 
 He thought no more about the money, he had lost his 
 appetite for luxury and power. Since he had heard that 
 the Cayols abandoned all claim to his niece's fortune it 
 became a matter of indifference to him. He now had but 
 one great desire at heart: to wash away M. de Girousse's 
 expressions of contempt with the blood of an enemy. 
 And lo! all at once, he met Philippe at a deserted spot, 
 in the middle of this wood which belonged to him. He 
 had gone out, his head bent down, seeking a means to 
 attain his end, and chance placed him face to face with 
 the very person he wished to meet to satisfy his vengeance. 
 
 The two men stared for a moment at each other in 
 silence. They had both stooped, as if to be ready to 
 spring at each other's throats. Then each felt ashamed 
 at finding himself in the attitude of a wild animal, when 
 they wished to act toward one another as civilized animals. 
 
 "I have been seeking you for a year," said M. de 
 Cazalis at last. " You are in my way and I'm in yours. 
 One of us must disappear." 
 
 "I'm quite of your opinion," answered Philippe. 
 
 " I have weapons in that house. Wait for me. In a 
 few seconds I'll be with you." 
 
 " No. We cannot fight so. If I were to kill you they 
 would accuse me of murdering you. We must have 
 witnesses." 
 
 " And where shall we find them ? "
 
 THE DUEL. 373 
 
 " In a couple of hours both of us can go to Marseilles 
 and be back again with two of our friends." 
 
 " Good. The meeting is for noon at this same spot." 
 
 " Yes, at this same spot." 
 
 They had spoken in a stern voice and without the 
 least insult. The provocation was natural, as if it were, 
 a matter agreed upon long before. 
 
 Philippe went immediately to Marseilles, resolving to 
 keep his brother in ignorance of what was about to 
 occur, for he felt the encounter necessary, and would not 
 run the risk of an obstacle being placed in the way of it. 
 
 As he was going down the Cours, he met Sauvaire 
 tearing along. 
 
 "Don't stop me," said the ex-master stevedore to him. 
 " I'm returning to the Aygalades in great haste. The 
 men are falling like flies here. There were eighty deaths 
 yesterday." 
 
 Philippe, without listening to him, told him he had a 
 duel on hand and relied on him. When he had named 
 his adversary Sauvaire exclaimed : 
 
 " I'm your man, and I would not be sorry to see that 
 scoundrel's brains blown out." 
 
 They called together on M. Martelly, whose courageous 
 behaviour was causing universal admiration in Marseilles. 
 The ship-owner listened to Philippe gravely, and thought 
 as he did, that the duel was necessary and inevitable. 
 
 " I am at your disposal," he answered simply. 
 
 The three men took a cab, and at a little before noon 
 entered the pine wood where they had to wait for M. 
 de Cazalis. At length he arrived. After having ran through 
 Marseilles in search of a couple of friends in vain, he 
 had made up his mind to go to a barracks where two 
 obliging sergeants consented to act as witnesses. As soon 
 as the cab that brought them had been sent to stand 
 near that of Philippe, the paces were counted and the 
 weapons loaded, rapidly and in silence, and without any 
 attempt being made at reconciliation. Never before had 
 preparations tor a duel been more prompt or simple. 
 
 When the principals had been placed face to face, 
 Philippe whom fortune had favoured, raised his arm ready
 
 374 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 to fire, but he all at once felt a presentiment and shud- 
 dered. Before M. de Cazalis had arrived, he had been 
 looking in a melancholy way at the pines which surrounded 
 him and beneath which he had courted in days gone by. 
 Chance is at times cruel. The scenery was the same, the 
 vast heavens expanded with the same limpidity, the coun- 
 try displayed an horizon as soft and peaceful. When Phi- 
 lippe raised his pistol he thought he remembered that he 
 was on the very spot where Blanche had given him her 
 first kiss, and that remembrance caused him singular 
 trouble. He fancied he heard his heart murmur : 
 
 " Where I have sinned, there shall I be punished. " 
 
 He pressed the trigger with a trembling hand. The 
 bullet, badly aimed, sped, and broke a branch of one of 
 the pines. 
 
 M. de Cazalis, in his turn, raised his weapon. He 
 aimed with contracted features and flaming eyes. Sauvaire 
 and Martelly, looking very pale, waited. Philippe with 
 his body slightly sideways, looked courageously at the 
 pistol threatening him, but in truth he did not see it, he 
 was thinking in spite of himself, of Blanche, and he heard 
 all his being crying louder than before : 
 
 " Where I have sinned, there shall I be punished." 
 
 The pistol went off. Philippe fell. 
 
 M. Martelly and Sauvaire ran up to him. He had 
 sunk down on the grass with his hand to his right side. 
 
 " You are touched ? " inquired the ex-master stevedore 
 in an unsteady voice. 
 
 "I am killed," murmured Philippe. "This spot was 
 bound to be fatal to me." 
 
 And he fainted. The two witnesses consulted together 
 for an instant, whilst staunching his wound. In their haste 
 they had not thought of bringing a doctor with them. It 
 was imperative to transport the wounded man to Marseilles 
 as rapidly as possible 
 
 "Listen," said M. Martelly, "we'll put him in a cab 
 and I'll take him to the hospital, for he'll be more promptly 
 attended to there than anywhere else. In the meanwhile 
 you run and tell his brother. Act so that the young 
 woman and child do not suspect anything."
 
 THE DUEL. 375 
 
 Both were deeply affected, it seemed that they were 
 losing one of theirs. Sauvaire ran off towards Saint Just, 
 while M. Martelly, assisted by the sergeants, carried 
 Philippe to the vehicle. M. de Cazalis had retired, acting 
 the indifferent, but with his heart bounding with intense 
 delight. 
 
 The ship-owner instructed the driver to go slowly. For 
 nearly an hour that the sad journey lasted, he supported 
 the unconscious wounded man's pale, vacillating head. He 
 had placed his handkerchief to the wound to stop the 
 blood ; but he saw the patient so weak that he feared he 
 would never be able to get him to the hospital alive. 
 
 They arrived at last. When M. Martelly stated that 
 Jie brought a wounded man, he was answered rather 
 abruptly that all the wards were full. At length Philippe 
 was received ; only there was no room and he was taken 
 into a cholera ward, the doctor who had seen him on 
 his admission, shaking his head and saying they could 
 put him anywhere, as he was beyond all danger from the 
 disease. 
 
 M. Martelly accompanied him, for he would not go 
 away until Marius arrived. The ward into which he 
 entered had a sinister look, and extended in the dim 
 light to a considerable length; the two rows of white beds 
 were set against the walls like tombs, and on them one 
 could perceive the rigidness of the bodies in the furious 
 agony of death. Patients afflicted with the disease yelled 
 and distorted themselves in this long cold room. Sisters 
 of Mercy slim, delicate women moved softly round the 
 beds assisting the doctors in their work. 
 
 M. Martelly had seated himself near the mattress on 
 which Philippe had been placed, face to face with death, 
 and watched the Sisters of Mercy who were quietly 
 and compassionately attending to the dving. He noticed 
 one, a short distance away from him, who was comforting 
 with her tender words, the last moments of an old man. 
 The face of this patient, although contracted in the death 
 agony, did not seem unknown to him. He drew near and 
 recognised with pain, that it was Abbe Chastanicr. The 
 priest was dying, a victim to his consummate charity.
 
 376 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Since the commencement of the epidemic he had not 
 taken an hour's repose; day and night he ascended to 
 the garrets visiting poor families struck down by the 
 disease; he had parted with all he possessed to give help 
 to the unfortunate, and when he had nothing left but the 
 clothes he wore, he had gone begging to the rich. As he 
 was leaving a house in the old town that morning, he had 
 been struck down with a violent attack of cholera in the 
 street and hurried off to the hospital, where for the last 
 two hours h.e had been enduring the most atrocious agony 
 with exemplary fortitude. 
 
 When M. Martelly approached him, his eyes were 
 already covered with a film and he was unable to see 
 the ground, but he nevertheless recognised the ship-owner. 
 He smiled, but could not utter a single word. Then, 
 raising a hand, he pointed to heaven. 
 
 After he was dead M. Martelly gazed at him for a 
 moment and then returned to seat himself beside Philippe 
 who continued as rigid as a corpse. Just then, the young 
 Sister of Mercy who had knelt for an instant beside 
 Abbe Chastanier's body came forward to see if she could 
 not render the wounded man some assistance. She had 
 hardly glanced at Philippe's face when all her features 
 were distorted with emotion. With her eyes fixed on the 
 young man and her breast heaving, she stood there, lost 
 in painful contemplation. 
 
 At that moment Marius entered the room followed by 
 Sauvaire. Seeing his brother extended stiff and livid, he 
 sobbed aloud. The news of the duel and Philippe's wound 
 had come upon him so abruptly, that he was quite stupid. 
 
 As soon as he was face to face with the wounded man, 
 he asked violently for a physician and insisted on the 
 patient being saved. The doctor who was in the ward, 
 touched by this outburst of grief, consented to sound the 
 wound again. Marius felt a burn in his inside when his 
 brother uttered a plaintive cry on feeling the touch 
 of the instrument. That cry made the young Sister of 
 Mercy shudder. As she came forward Marius caught 
 sight of her. 
 
 " You here ! " he murmured angrily, " ah ! I ought to
 
 THE DUEL. 377 
 
 have expected you would be present at the last moments 
 of the man whom your love brought to misfortune. You 
 are the worthy niece of your uncle who has just killed my 
 brother." 
 
 The young Sister of Mercy had joined her hands. She 
 looked humbly and beseechingly at Marius, half choked 
 by anguish, and unable to reply. 
 
 " Pardon me," continued the young man immediately, 
 "I know not what I do. Do not remain there. Philippe 
 might see you on opening his eyes. We must avoid 
 causing him violent emotion. Is it not so ?" 
 
 He spoke as a child wandering in his mind. When 
 he had recognised Blanche in the costume of the Sisters 
 of Saint Vincent de Paul, he really thought he saw a 
 phantom rise up before him. She reminded him of a 
 whole past full of suffering. 
 
 At the outbreak of the epidemic, Blanche had begged 
 as a favour to be allowed to work in the hospital at 
 Marseilles. Perhaps she hoped to die there. Her devot- 
 edness was the admiration of all. She lived in the midst 
 of death with the courage and abnegation of a martyr. 
 To have seen her bending over the frightful features of 
 the dying, no one would have guessed that her childhood 
 had been so weak and delicate and her birth so illustrious. 
 On several occasions they wanted to send her away, 
 telling her she had discharged her tribute, but she had 
 obtained permission to remain, by beseeching the authorities 
 to allow her to do so. For a month she hud been defying 
 death, and death had respected her. 
 
 Abbe Chastanier's last agony, and the sight of Philippe 
 lying inanimate before her, had just given her a shock 
 that broke her courage. She was staggering and all 
 her human feelings had returned to her. She retreated 
 a few steps, obedient to Marius' gesture, while the doctor 
 completed the dressing of the wound. Philippe at last 
 opened his eyes and looked round about him with an 
 expression of lively astonishment, but on seeing his brother, 
 he remembered all. 
 
 Marius, mastering his tears with a violent effort, bent 
 over him.
 
 378 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 " I don't see Joseph," Philippe said to him, in a voice 
 as faint as one's breath. "Where is he?" 
 
 " He is coming," answered Marius. 
 
 " Immediately, is it not so ? I want to see him, immediately, 
 immediately." 
 
 He closed his eyes again. Marius had told a falsehood, 
 he had run off without telling Fine and Joseph what had 
 happened, in the desire of delaying their despair for at 
 least a few hours, but now, in face of his brother's request, 
 he would have given all he possessed in this world, to 
 have brought the child with him. 
 
 "Shall I go and fetch the little one?" asked Sauvaire, 
 who felt extremely uneasy amidst all these cholera patients, 
 and yet dared not run away. Marius accepted the offer 
 at once, and the ex-master stevedore ran off immediately. 
 Philippe had no doubt heard what had been said for he 
 re-opened his eyes and thanked his brother with a look. 
 As he turned his head, his face became overspread with 
 a look of happy ecstasy: he had just perceived Blanche, 
 who had drawn near on hearing the sound of his voice. 
 
 " Am I dead ? " he murmured. " Oh I dear, tender vision." 
 
 And he fainted again. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 THE PUNISHMENT. 
 
 WHEN the vehicle carrying away Philippe had gone 
 some distance from the scene of the encounter, M. de 
 Cazalis warmly thanked the sergeants who had assisted 
 him as witnesses. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said to them, " excuse the trouble I 
 have given you, and kindly allow me to drive you back 
 to Marseilles." 
 
 The sergeants made some difficulty, saying that they 
 could very well return to town alone, but M. de Cazalis 
 insisted, the truth being, that he wanted to know if Philippe 
 was really dead, for he dared not rejoice until his enemy 
 had been nailed down in his coffin.
 
 THE PUNISHMENT. 379 
 
 As the cab in which the ex-deputy and his two wit- 
 nesses were seated, was coming out of the Rue d'Aix, it 
 was stopped by the solemn procession conducting the 
 statue of Notre Dame de la Garde back to her church. 
 This Virgin is the guardian saint of Marseilles, and when 
 a misfortune overshadows the city, the inhabitants carry it 
 along their streets, prostrating themselves before it and 
 beseeching the Virgin to implore the clemency of the Almighty 
 on their behalf. 
 
 M. de Cazalis was irritated at this obstruction for he 
 was kept waiting for a long quarter of an hour whilst 
 dying of impatience to get news of Philippe, and at the 
 bottom of his heart wished the procession to the deuce. But 
 at the very minute when the statue of the virgin passed 
 before him, he all at once felt a mortal shiver which 
 descended into his very bowels. He leant on the shoulder 
 of one of the sergeants, growing paler and paler, and 
 suddenly sank all of a heap to the bottom of the vehicle, 
 uttering plaintive moans. He had been brought down by 
 a violent attack of the prevalent disease. He had escaped 
 the hand of Philippe, and it was the cholera that had 
 undertaken his punishment. The two sergeants had sprang 
 from the cab, and the^crowd, who soon ascertained that 
 they were in presence of a cholera patient, fled from the 
 vehicle, aghast ! 
 
 "Drive him at once to the hospital," cried one of the 
 sergeants to the coachman. 
 
 The man whipped up his horse, and the cab entering 
 the old town, which the procession had just left, was in 
 a few minutes before the hospital where two attendants 
 carried M. de Cazalis into the cholera ward. Only one 
 empty bed remained, and he was placed beside Philippe. 
 
 When the ex-deputy who was already turning black, 
 was brought in, Marius and M. Martdlv, who recognised 
 him, had stepped back affrighted, but M. de Ca/alis did 
 not immediately notice what neighbours chance had given 
 him. The disease was racking him most terribly. He 
 was lost. In one of his convulsions he raised himself 
 and at last perceived Philippe, who was extended on the 
 adjoining bed still unconscious. Then he reflected that
 
 380 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 he was dying himself, and would not have enough life to 
 enjoy his vengeance, and at that thought he fell back on 
 his bed literally howling with rage. 
 
 " Save me ! " he shouted out, " I want to live. Oh ! I 
 am wealthy, I will reward you! " 
 
 And he distorted himself in the most frightful suffering 
 exclaiming that they were tearing out his entrails. 
 
 Philippe in the meanwhile, had opened his eyes. The 
 hoarse voice of his enemy, had momentarily drawn him 
 from the lethargy that was gaining possession of him, and 
 raising his head, he stared at M. de Cazalis as if in a 
 trance. When the latter saw the wounded man resuscitated 
 and looking at him, dreamily, his rage and terror increased. 
 
 "He is not dead!" he yelled. "Ah! the wretch will 
 live, and I'm dying." 
 
 They contemplated each other. Hatred brought them 
 together even in death. Suddenly, they heard a celestial 
 voice exclaim amidst the silence : 
 
 " Give each other the hand, I insist on it. One must 
 not go into eternity in anger. " 
 
 They raised their heads, and perceived Blanche beside 
 them standing erect in her grey gown. She seemed taller. 
 Philippe joined his hands, without speaking. He thought 
 himself already on the other side, where he had often 
 dreamed of finding his sweetheart. His dream continued. 
 
 M. de Cazalis clenched his teeth, when he heard these 
 words of peace. The sight of his niece exasperated him. 
 
 " Who brought you here ? " he cried. " You knew I 
 was going to die, and came to enjoy the sight of my 
 death. " 
 
 " Listen, " continued Blanche, " the Almighty is going to 
 judge you. Do not appear before Him with a soul black 
 with hatred. For pity's sake, give Philippe your hand. " 
 
 " No, a thousand times no ! I would sooner be damned 
 than reconciled to him. When I held him at the end of 
 my pistol barrel, I knew he would die. Don't think 
 you'll save him, and take him back for a lover. " 
 
 He blasphemed, shook his fist at Heaven, vomitted foul 
 words upon his niece and Philippe, but the disease 
 was gaining possession of him, he felt himself already
 
 THE PUNISHMENT. 381 
 
 turning cold, and the horror of his end made him like a 
 mad animal, that was powerless to bite. 
 
 Blanche had drawn back. She leant against the bed 
 of the wounded man, who continued gazing at her with 
 great tenderness ; and bending towards him, she said in 
 a gentle tone: 
 
 "Will you offer that man your hand?" 
 
 Philippe smiled. "Yes," he said, "I forgive him and 
 would like him to forgive me also. I want to live with 
 you in Heaven. Tell me, will you not pray to your God 
 to admit me to your Paradise?" 
 
 Blanche, very much affected, took the dying man's 
 hand, which she felt trembling in hers. 
 
 "Give me yours," she said to M. de Cazalis. 
 
 " No, never, never ! " shouted the cholera patient amidst 
 a convulsion. "I don't want to live with you in your 
 Heaven. I prefer all the flames of Hell. Go. Never, 
 never! " 
 
 He had clasped his hands together, and was wildly 
 distorting his arms. As he bellowed: "Never, never! " he 
 was seized with a spasm and expired. His body 
 remained in its frightful position. 
 
 Blanche had turned away her head in horror. When 
 she looked down on Philippe again, she saw that he, 
 also, was dying. He gently pressed her hand. His eyes 
 had become clear, his lips wore a faint smile. He 
 imagined he had been dead a long time and thought no 
 more of his brother who was there, or of his son, whom 
 he had been inquiring for. 
 
 "Tell me," he murmured, without making the least 
 struggle against death, "you will take me with you, 
 won't you? " 
 
 And he died. 
 
 At that very moment Fine and Joseph entered the 
 room. Marius closed his brother's eyes. Fine, in despair, 
 went and knelt down. The poor little child, standing 
 alone at the foot of the bed, was unable to understand, 
 and quietly sobbed. 
 
 Since Joseph had entered the room, Blanche had been 
 gazing at him in bewilderment. All at once she saw
 
 382 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 he was in danger. She kissed Philippe's hand which 
 she had retained in hers, and then abruptly caught 
 the child up in her arms and ran off with him. M. de 
 Martelly had to lead Marius and Fine away, but as Marius 
 was about to retire, he heard one of the dying calling 
 to him. 
 
 " Don't you remember me ? " a woman asked. " Have you 
 forgotten the wretched Armande? I had vowed not to 
 see you until I had obtained my pardon. I made myself 
 a servant in this hospital and am dying. Will you give 
 me your hand ? " 
 
 Marius grasped the poor creature's hand, and it was 
 only then that he discovered where he was. Overcome 
 by grief, he had not looked round about him before. 
 The cholera ward now appeared to him in all its horror. 
 M. Martelly pointed out the corpse of Abbe Chastanier 
 and from that moment he seemed to see Death standing 
 erect in the centre of the room, with his immense arms 
 extended. Thrusting Fine before him, he went out stag- 
 gering with giddiness. 
 
 It was not until they were on the staircase that they 
 perceived Joseph had disappeared. They called him, in- 
 quired for him, searched for him in every corner. At 
 length he was discovered at the bottom of an inner court- 
 yard. A Sister of Mercy, of the order of Saint Vincent 
 de Paul was holding him in her arms and passionately 
 kissing him. 
 
 The following day Marius, while returning from his 
 brother's funeral, learnt that Sister Blanche had been 
 carried off by an attack of cholera during the night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 TEN years have passed. 
 
 M. Martelly has retired to a villa he had built on the 
 rocks of Endoume, and resides there with his sister. The 
 only thing that makes him feel sad is to see that Liberty
 
 EPILOGUE. 383 
 
 is a plant that does not thrive in France ; he feels sure 
 he will die before the advent of Democracy. 
 
 Marius has succeeded him at the house of business, in 
 the Rue de la Darse. Thanks to the fortune Joseph came 
 into at the death of his mother and M. de Cazalis, he 
 has been able to extend his operations considerably, and 
 the ship-owners Cayol, are now one of the principal firms 
 in Marseilles. 
 
 The family has grown older amidst the love and 
 happiness it had waited for so long. Fine spreads her 
 gay and tender serenity around her, and her brother Cadet 
 is one of the most active partners in the house. 
 
 Joseph is- now a tall youth of nineteen, possessing the 
 delicate beauty of Blanche with Philippe's passionate energy. 
 He has just completed his studies, and expects to work 
 with his uncle who has had the care of his fortune. 
 
 Sometimes when the family is assembled of an evening 
 they talk over the past, and those dear phantoms, Blanche 
 and Philippe, are brought back to life; but the tears that 
 are then shed have no bitterness about them. Peace has 
 come, and recollections savour of the sweetness of a sad 
 and far-off song. 
 
 Joseph goes every year to Lambesc to open the shoot- 
 ing season with M. de Girousse. The Count is very old, 
 but he still possesses the lively and original mind of his 
 youth. Besides, time does not hang heavily on his hands, 
 for he has started a large factory. 
 
 " Ah ! " he often says to the young man, " if you only 
 heard what the nobility of the department say about me ! 
 I am a Jacobite, I have made a misalliance by espousing 
 industry. I really regret not having been born a workman, 
 for if I had been, I should not have passed fifty years 
 of my life, dragging out a weary and useless existence in 
 this corner of France." 
 
 But Joseph's great friend is the worthy Sauvaire. The 
 former master-stevedore, a prey to rheumatism, has 
 nevertheless preserved his triumphant manner. On sunny 
 days he still displays his vanity on the Cannebiere, and 
 honestly believes that all the girls he meets suddenly fall 
 in love with him.
 
 384 THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. 
 
 Joseph seems to him too serious. 
 
 " Look here," he says to him, leaning on his arm, 
 " one must amuse oneself in this world. In my time we 
 used to laugh from morn till eve. Ah! by Jove! what fun I 
 had! All the pretty women in the city were under my 
 protection. You ask your uncle. Remind him of Clairon. 
 What a lot of money that girl cost me ! " 
 
 And then in a lower tone, he adds the following phrase 
 which he delights in repeating: 
 
 "It was the priests who took her from me." 
 
 THE END.
 
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