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THE TEMPLE EDITION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 COMEDIE HU MAINE 
 
 Edited, by 
 
 GEORGE SAINTSBURY 
 
All rights reserved 
 
LIBWAKY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY of ILLINOI 
 
if" 
 
 Translated -by 
 ‘ELLEN MARRIAGE' 
 
 Wi ih'a'Frorrti spi see 
 etched *tvy 
 
 W^BOUCHER. 
 
 * 19 01* 
 fHE^MACMIU‘7\J 
 ,, * COMPANY- 
 
 66 fifth rr>s v /^tn avenue n 
 
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'JHS'fts-' 
 
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 Copyright, 1898, 
 
 By J. M. Dent and Co. 
 
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 Norwood Press 
 
 y . S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick £jf Smith 
 Norwood Mass. U. S. A. 
 
Hep 
 
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 | $ 
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A GONDREVILLE MYSTERY 
 
 I. THE TRIALS OF THE POLICE - • • • 1 
 
 II. CORENTIN ? S REVENGE . • • • • Il8 
 
 III. A POLITICAL TRIAL IN THE TIME OF THE EMPIRE . I JO 
 CONCLUSION . . • • • 0 .2 25 
 
 an EPISODE OF THE TERROR o o o .240 
 
 * 
 
 3 
 

 :.. t 
 
 <4 S 
 
 
 
 
 V 
 
G> 
 
 A GONDREVILLE MYSTERY 
 
 To Monsieur de Margone y from his grateful guest 
 at Chateau de Sache y de Balzac 
 
 i 
 
 THE TRIALS OF THE POLICE 
 
 The autumn of the year 1803 was one of the finest during 
 the Empire Period, as we call the earliest years of the 
 nineteenth century. Rain had fallen in October; the fields 
 were refreshed; and the green leaves were still on the trees 
 in mid-November. Wherefore people were beginning to 
 believe in a covenant between heaven and Bonaparte, then 
 recently declared Consul for life. This belief was one 
 among many to which he owed his magical influence; and 
 (strange coincidence!) when the sun failed him in 1812, 
 his prosperity came to an end. 
 
 Towards four o’clock in the afternoon on the fif¬ 
 teenth of November, 1803, the sunlight fell like a crimson 
 dust over the crests of two double rows of ancient elms 
 in a long and lordly avenue — and lighted up the sand 
 and the bents of grass about one of those vast circular 
 spaces which you may see near country seats; for land 
 in former times was worth so little that it could be 
 sacrificed to ornament. The air was so pure, the even¬ 
 ing so mild, that the family from the lodge were sitting 
 out of doors as if it were summer-time. A man in a 
 green canvas shooting-coat with green buttons, breeches 
 
2 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 of the same material, linen gaiters reaching to the knees, 
 and thin-soled walking-shoes, was busy cleaning a rifle 
 with that punctilious care which a skilled sportsman 
 bestows on his weapon in leisure moments. This man, 
 however, had neither pouch nor game-bag, nor any of a-* 
 sportsman’s accoutrements, and an ill-disguised dread 
 seemed to weigh upon the minds of the two women who 
 sat watching him. Indeed, if any one else had been look¬ 
 ing on at this scene from behind one of the bushes, he mustt 
 have shuddered with the man’s wife and the old mother- 
 in-law. Clearly, no sportsman takes such minute pains 
 for a day’s shooting; nor, in the department of Aube, does 
 he carry a heavy rifle. , 
 
 c Are you going buck-shooting, Michu ? ’ asked his 
 pretty young wife, forcing a smile. 
 
 Michu did not answer her at once. He turned his 
 attention to the dog that was lying out in the sunshine 
 with his muzzle on his outstretched paws, in the charming 
 attitude peculiar to sporting dogs. This animal had raised 
 his head and was snuffing the wind, first in the direction 
 of the avenue that stretched away for more than half a 
 mile, and then again towards a cross-road which came out 
 to the left of the great circle. 
 
 c No,’ said Michu, at length. 4 It is a monster that I 
 do not mean to miss; it is a lynx.’ 
 
 The dog, a very handsome brown and white spaniel, 
 began to growl. 
 
 c Good,’ muttered Michu. 4 Spies ! The country swarms 
 with them.’ 
 
 Madame Michu, a beautiful fair-haired, blue-eyed woman, 
 with a grave, thoughtful face and a form moulded like an 
 antique statue, raised her eyes sorrowfully to the sky. 
 Some dark and bitter trouble seemed to weigh upon her. , 
 The man’s looks to some extent justified the woman’s 
 fears. The laws of physiognomy are exact not merely in 
 their application to character, but also in forecasting the 
 
The Trials of the Police 3 
 
 j 
 
 future. Some faces are prophetic. If it were possible to 
 obtain faithful portraits of all who die upon the scaffold 
 (and these statistics from the life are of importance to 
 } society), the science of Gall and Lavater would prove 
 incontestably that there were strange tokens on all of those 
 faces, even among the guiltless. Yes, Fate sets a mark 
 on the countenances of those that are destined to die a vio- 
 . lent death; and that seal was visible for experienced eyes 
 on the expressive face of the man with the rifle. 
 
 Michu was short and stout; and jerky and nimble in his 
 movements as a monkey. He was a man of quiet temper, 
 but his countenance of the squat Kalmuck type, his white 
 skin streaked with tiny distended blood vessels, and red 
 crisp hair, gave him a sinister look. His eyes were like a 
 tiger’s, tawny and clear; you might gaze down into their 
 , uttermost depths, they neither kindled nor moved. Steady, 
 bright, unblenching, they grew intolerable at last. The 
 continual contrast between the man’s quick alertness and 
 the unchanging eyes added to the glacial impression which 
 > Michu made upon you at first sight. Here was a man 
 prompt to act, a man whose whole power of action was 
 controlled by one fixed idea; even as in animals the creat¬ 
 ure’s-life is entirely subordinated to unreflecting instinct. 
 
 Since 1793 Michu had worn a fan-shaped beard, a pecul- 
 * iarity which would have lent a formidable look to his face 
 even if he had not been the president of a Jacobin club 
 during the Terror. The flat-nosed Socratic visage was 
 crowned by a noble forehead, so curved, however, that it 
 1 seemed to overhang the face beneath it; the well-set ears 
 seemed ready to move like the ears of a wild animal and 
 always on the alert. The mouth was always open (a 
 habit common enough among countrymen), so that you 
 4 could catch a glimpse of strong teeth, white as almonds, 
 but irregular. Thick glossy whiskers framed the pale face 
 with its purpled patches; while the tawny red of the hair, 
 cropped close in front, but left to grow at the sides and 
 
4 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 back of the head, did their part to perfection in bringing* 
 out all the strangeness, all the signs of fate, in the man’s 
 appearance. His short thick neck seemed to tempt the 
 hatchet of the law. 
 
 At this moment the slanting shafts of sunlight fell full 1 
 upon the faces of the three people at whom the dog looked 
 up in turn; and the theatre in which the scene was enacted 
 was, moreover, a most noble one. 
 
 The circular space lay at the furthest extremity of the'’ 
 park of Gondreville, one of the finest estates in France 
 and unquestionably the finest in the department of the 
 Aube, with its chateau built from Mansard’s designs, its 
 magnificent avenues of elm trees, its fifteen hundred acres 1 
 of park enclosed with walls, its nine large farms, its forest, 
 mills, and meadows. Before the Revolution this almost 
 princely domain belonged to the Simeuse family. Ximeuse 
 is a fief in Lorraine. The name is pronounced Simeuse , and , 
 in the end the spelling followed the pronunciation. 
 
 The great fortune of the Simeuses, a noble family 
 attached to the House of Burgundy, dated back to the , 
 times when the Guises overshadowed the Valois. After- > 
 wards, neither Richelieu nor Louis XIV forgot their devo¬ 
 tion to the factious House of Lorraine, and the Simeuses 
 were out of favour at court. So the marquis of that day — 
 an old Burgundian, an old Guisard, Leaguer, and Frondeur, 
 heir to the four great grudges which the noblesse bare the ^ 
 crown — came to live at Cinq-Cygne, a courtier driven 
 from the court of the Louvre. He had married the widow 
 of the Comte de Cinq-Cygne, the younger branch of the « 
 great House of Chargeboeuf, one of the most illustrious 
 families of Champagne; though the Cinq-Cygnes were 
 wealthier than the elder line and at least as famous. 
 
 And so it came to pass that the Marquis de Simeuse, « 
 one of the richest nobles of the age, built Gondreville 
 instead of ruining himself at court, and rounded out the 
 estate with broad lands simply to add to his great game 
 
The Trials of the Police 5 
 
 preserves. It was he who built the Hotel de Simeuse, near 
 the Hotel de Cinq-Cygne at Troyes (the two old mansions 
 and the bishop’s palace were the only stone buildings in 
 , the city for a long while), and it was he, likewise, who sold 
 Ximeuse to the Duke of Lorraine. 
 
 His son wasted his father’s savings and even broke into 
 his fine fortune during the reign of Louis XV, but he 
 ? entered the navy, became a commodore and a vice-admiral, 
 and redeemed his youthful follies by splendid services to the 
 state. The Admiral’s eldest son, the Marquis de Simeuse, 
 died on the scaffold at Troyes during the Revolution, leav¬ 
 ing twin sons who at that moment were following the 
 fortunes of the House of Conde as emigres. 
 
 The great circular space was the place where the hunt 
 met in the time of the Great Marquis (for so the builder 
 » of Gondreville was called in the family), and a hunting 
 lodge had been built within the park walls in the time of 
 Louis XIV. It was here in the Cinq-Cygne lodge, as it 
 was called, that Michu had lived since 1789. The village 
 ’ of Cinq-Cygne lay on the edge of the Forest of Nodesme 
 (a corruption of Notre Dame ), and the way to the village 
 was through the double avenue of elm trees, the quarter in 
 which Couraut got wind of spies. The lodge had fallen 
 completely into disuse since the time of the Great Marquis, 
 ' the Admiral knew more of the court or the high seas 
 than of his lands in Champagne, and his son, the late 
 Marquis, had made over the dilapidated house to Michu 
 for a dwelling. 
 
 4 It was a noble brick building with reticulated corner¬ 
 stones and facings. A handsome but rust-eaten wrought- 
 iron gateway on either side abutted upon a broad deep 
 ha-ha with great trees springing up on its sides, and para- 
 v pets bristling with iron scroll-work, which confronted 
 intruders with a formidable array of spikes. 
 
 The park walls only began beyond the circumference of 
 the circle. The imposing half-moon without was enclosed 
 
6 
 
 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 by a bank with elm trees growing upon it; the correspond^ 
 ing inner half being outlined by clumps of foreign trees. 
 So the hunting lodge stood exactly in the centre of the 
 space traced out by the two horseshoes. ^ 
 
 Michu used the great rooms on the ground floor as 
 stable, cow shed, and kitchen. Nothing of all the ancient 
 splendour of the place was left save the hall paved with 
 marble, white and black, which you entered from the side* 
 of the park, by one of those glass doors with little square 
 panes, which you used to see at Versailles before Louis 
 Philippe turned that palace into a hospital for the departed 
 ‘glories of France.’ 
 
 Within, the lodge was divided in two by a wooden stair¬ 
 case, old-fashioned and worm-eaten, but not wanting in 
 character. There were five somewhat low rooms on the 
 first floor, and a vast garret up above in the roof, for the« 
 venerable edifice was crowned by a four-sided roof, ter¬ 
 minating in a ridge with a leaden finial at either end by 
 way of ornament. 
 
 Michu stored his fodder in this garret, which was lighted ■ 
 by four bull’s-eye windows of the kind affected, and not v 
 without reason, by Mansard ; for the flat Italian roof and 
 low attic storey is an absurdity against which our French 
 climate protests. 
 
 The park about the old hunting-lodge was planned out - 
 in the English fashion. A lake, or rather a sheet of water 
 that once had been a lake and was now a mere pond, well 
 stocked with fish, manifested its presence by a film of mist 
 that hung above the tree-tops, and, no less, by the croaking 4 
 of hundreds of frogs and sounds made by noisy amphibious 
 creatures after sunset. The pervading sense of crumbling 
 age and decay, the deep silence in the woods, the avenue 
 stretching away into the distance, the far-off forest, :he * 
 rust-eaten ironwork, the massive stones clad in velvet moss, 
 — these and a thousand little things combined to lend an 
 idyllic grace to a building which remains to this day. 
 
The Trials of the Police 7 
 
 At the time of the opening of this story, Michu was 
 leaning against the moss-covered parapet. His powder- 
 flask, cap, and handkerchief were lying on the wall beside 
 «him, together with a screwdriver, some bits of rag and odd 
 tools required for his suspicious operations. His wife was 
 sitting just outside the lodge, almost under the doorway 
 where the richly-carved armorial bearings of the Simeuse 
 family and their noble motto Si meurs! still remained 
 intact; and her mother, dressed like a peasant woman, 
 had put her chair just in front, so that Madame Michu’s 
 feet might rest on the rungs and not on the damp ground. 
 \ c Is the boy here ? ’ Michu asked of his wife. 
 
 c He is roaming somewhere about the pond,’ said the 
 mother; c he is crazy over frogs and insects.’ 
 
 Michu gave an alarming whistle, and his son came run- 
 * ning up at once. Evidently the bailiff at Gondreville 
 was master in his own house, and since 1789, and still 
 more since 1793, he had done pretty much as he liked on 
 the estate. His wife and her mother, a young lad named 
 Gaucher, and Marianne, the servant girl, were all afraid 
 of him, and so was everybody else for a score of miles 
 around. The causes of this feeling of terror should perhaps 
 be given without further delay, for in this way Michu’s por¬ 
 trait will be completed by a sketch of his character. 
 
 The old Marquis de Simeuse had parted with most of 
 his property in 1790; but events moved too quickly for 
 him ; he had not time to put the great Gondreville estate 
 in trustworthy hands. Accused of corresponding with 
 1 the Duke of Brunswick and the Prince of Coburg, the 
 Marquis de Simeuse and his wife were imprisoned and 
 condemned to death by the Revolutionary Tribunal of 
 Troyes, under the presidency of Madame Michu’s father. 
 The great estate was therefore sold by the nation. People 
 noticed at the time, with something like a thrill of horror, 
 that the old Marquis’s head gamekeeper, the president 
 of the Arcis Jacobin club, had come to Troyes to be 
 
8 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 present at the execution. Michu was an orphan, and the 
 son of a simple peasant. The Marquise had loaded him 
 with kindnesses; she had taken him as a child into the 
 chateau and had given him the head keeper’s place. , 
 Lofty patriotism regarded Michu as a second Brutus; but 
 no one in the country-side would recognize him after that 
 piece of flagrant ingratitude. 
 
 The buyer of the estate was a man from Arcis, one 
 Marion, whose grandfather had been land-steward to the 
 Simeuses. This Marion, a barrister before and after the 
 Revolution, was afraid of the keeper, and employed him 
 as bailiff with a salary of three thousand livres and a com¬ 
 mission on the sales of timber. Michu was supposed to 
 have some ten thousand francs of his own already, when, 
 with his reputation for patriotism to recommend him, he 
 married the daughter of a tanner at Troyes. His father- , 
 in-law was the apostle of Revolution in the town and the 
 president of the Revolutionary Tribunal. A man of con¬ 
 victions, not unlike Saint Just in character, he was mixed 
 up afterwards in the Babeuf conspiracy and committed 
 suicide to escape trial. Marthe, his daughter, was the 
 prettiest girl in Troyes, and therefore she had been obliged 
 by her formidable parent to personate the Goddess of 
 Liberty on a Republican high day. 
 
 Marion, the proprietor of Gondreville, scarcely came to - 
 the place three times in seven years. His grandfather had 
 been the Simeuses’ land-steward; and all Arcis believed at 
 the time that Citizen Marion really represented the Mar¬ 
 quis’s two sons. As for the bailiff of Gondreville, as a > 
 devoted patriot and the son-in-law of the president of the 
 Revolutionary Tribunal at Troyes, he was greatly in favour 
 with Malin, one of the representatives of the department 
 of the Aube, and people treated him with a certain respect * 
 so long as the Terror lasted. But after the decline of the 
 Mountain and the tanner’s suicide, Michu became the scape¬ 
 goat of his party. All the blame of many violent deeds was 
 
The Trials of the Police 9 
 
 thrown upon the dead man and his son-in-law, though in 
 truth the latter had neither art nor part in them. Then 
 the bailiff of Gondreville stood up for himself and assumed 
 a hostile attitude in the face of the crowd that did him this 
 injustice. He showed a bold front in words. But the 
 18 th Brumaire came and went, and Michu relapsed into 
 a profound silence, the philosophy of the strong. He made 
 no more protest against public opinion, he was satisfied to 
 act; this prudence gained him a reputation for sly cunning, 
 for he possessed about a hundred thousand francs in land. 
 Michu’s money had been made in perfectly legitimate ways. 
 His salary and commission amounted to six thousand francs 
 per annum, and he had inherited his wife’s father’s prop¬ 
 erty. But though he had been bailiff of Gondreville for a 
 dozen years, and anybody who chose to do so could calcu- 
 > late the amount of his savings, the old outcry against the 
 Jacobin was raised again when he bought a farm worth 
 fifty thousand francs towards the close of the Consulate. 
 At Arcis people said that Michu meant to redeem his char- 
 ^ acter by making a lot of money. And, unluckily, just as 
 * this affair was dying out of people’s memories, a trifling 
 incident set rancorous tongues gossiping in the country¬ 
 side, and revived the general belief in the ferocity of the 
 bailiff’s character. 
 
 Coming home one evening from Troyes in the company 
 of several peasants, Michu chanced to drop a paper on the 
 high-road. The tenant of Cinq-Cygne, who knew how to 
 read, was walking behind the rest. He stooped and picked 
 -■* it up. Michu turned, and saw the farmer with the paper 
 in his hands. In a moment he drew his pistol from his 
 belt, cocked the weapon, and threatened to blow the man’s 
 brains out if he read a word of the paper. It all happened 
 1 so suddenly, Michu’s behaviour was so violent, the tone of 
 his voice so awful, and his eyes glared so fiercely, that the 
 men all felt a cold chill of terror. Naturally Michu made 
 an enemy of the tenant of Cinq-Cygne. 
 
io A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne, the Simeuses’ cousin, had 
 but the one farm for her fortune. She lived at the chateau 
 of Cinq-Cygne; and her whole life was devoted to the 
 twin cousins, her playmates as a child at Troyes and 
 Gondreville. Her only brother, Julian de Cinq-Cygne, 
 left France earlier than the Simeuses, and had fallen before 
 Mayence; but the house of Cinq-Cygne possessed a suffi¬ 
 ciently rare privilege of which more must be said by-and- 
 by, the heiress of the house transmitted the title in default 
 of heirs male. This affair between Michu and the tenant 
 caused a terrific hubbub in the country-side and darkened 
 the gloomy mystery that hung about Michu; nor was this 
 the only circumstance which gained him a formidable name. 
 
 A few months went by, and Citizen Marion came to 
 Gondreville. He brought with him Citizen Malin. Po¬ 
 litical events had turned out so well for Malin and Arcis 
 that the First Consul had given him a seat at the Council 
 of State as a reward for his services on the 18th Brumaire. 
 Marion had sold the estate to Malin (so rumour ran), and 
 politicians in the little town of Arcis now discovered that 
 Marion had been Malin’s stalking-horse all along and not 
 a cover for the MM. Simeuse. The all-powerful Coun¬ 
 cillor of State was the great man of Arcis. He had sent 
 one of his political allies to the prefecture at Troyes; he 
 had exempted the son of one of the Gondreville tenants, 
 one Beauvisage, from military service; he was everybody’s 
 friend. Consequently, there was no one to say a word 
 against the bargain in the whole country-side, where Malin 
 reigned and still reigns supreme. 
 
 It was just in the dawn of the Empire. People 
 who read about the French Revolution to-day in history 
 books will never have any idea of the immense distances 
 travelled by public opinion between the events that come 
 so thickly together. The need of peace and quiet after vio¬ 
 lent commotion was so generally felt that the most serious 
 matters were forgotten in a very short time. Events were 
 
11 
 
 The Trials of the Police 
 
 i 
 
 ripened continually by new and burning interests and soon 
 became ancient history. So nobody except Michu looked 
 curiously into the past; and the bargain seemed perfectly 
 t simple to other eyes. Marion had bought Gondreville 
 for six hundred thousand francs in assignats , he sold it for a 
 million in current coin; but Malin paid nothing out of his 
 pocket except the fees for the registration of title. Grevin, 
 an old comrade of Malin’s in the days when both were 
 ecclesiastics, naturally favoured this piece of jobbery. He 
 had his reward. The Councillor of State made him a 
 notary at Arcis. 
 
 [b When the new owner came to the lodge, brought thither 
 by the tenant of Grouage (the farm that lay to the left of 
 the great avenue, between the park and the forest), Michu’s 
 face grew white; he left the house. He went off in 
 * search of Marion, whom he found at last alone in one of 
 the broad walks in the park. 
 
 c Are you selling Gondreville, sir ? 9 
 
 c Yes, Michu, yes. You will have an influential master. 
 ' The Councillor is one of the First Consul’s friends, and 
 ~ very well acquainted with all the Ministry. He will do 
 well by you.’ 
 
 c Then were you keeping the place for him all along ? ’ 
 
 C I do not say that,’ replied Marion. C I did not know 
 how to invest the money at the time, and I thought I 
 should be safe if I put it into the National lands; but I 
 do not care about keeping a place that belonged to the 
 
 family, when my father was-’ 
 
 c A servant in their house, their steward ! ’ Michu inter¬ 
 rupted fiercely. c But you are not going to sell the place > 
 I want it, and I can pay you for it, myself-’ 
 
 • * You r 
 
 c Yes, I. I mean it! eight hundred thousand francs and 
 in good gold-’ 
 
 c Eight hundred thousand francs ! Where did you get 
 them ? ’ asked Marion. 
 
12 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 ‘That is no affair of yours,’ returned Michu. Then in 
 a milder tone and lowered voice he added, 4 My wife’s 
 father saved a good many livres.’ 
 
 4 You are too late, Michu. The thing is done now.’ ♦ 
 
 ‘You can put it off, sir!’ exclaimed the bailiff, and 
 catching at his employer’s hand he held it in a vice-like 
 grip. 4 People hate me ; I want to be rich and powerful; 
 
 I must have Gondreville ! and I don’t care a straw for my ' 
 life, mind you; so sell the land to me or I will blow your 
 brains out! ’ 
 
 4 But anyhow I must have time to back out of it with 
 Malin, and he is not of an accommodating turn-’ 
 
 4 1 will give you twenty-four hours. If you say a word 
 about this, I shall think no more of cutting off your head 
 than of slithering a turnip.’ 
 
 Marion and Malin left the chateau that night. Marion 
 was frightened; he told the Councillor about his interview 
 and advised him to keep an eye on his bailiff. It was too 
 late to go back on the bargain ; Marion was obliged to 
 make over the estate to the man who had actually paid for 
 it; and it seemed to him that Michu was not the man to 
 understand or admit such a reason. Moreover, it was 
 understood that this service rendered to Malin was to lay 
 the foundation of a political fortune for Marion and his 
 brother. And so it proved. In 1806 Advocate Marion * 
 became president of an Imperial court through Malin’s 
 influence, and afterwards, when receivers-general were 
 instituted, Marion’s brother was appointed to the depart¬ 
 ment of the Aube. Malin recommended Marion to remove 
 to Paris, and spoke to the Minister of Police, who put a 
 special guard over the threatened man. But Michu was 
 still bailiff of the Gondreville estate, under the ferule of 
 the Arcis notary; Malin did not wish to drive him to 
 extremities, or perhaps he thought that he could the better 
 keep a watch on him. 
 
 From this time forth Michu grew more and more 
 
The Trials of the Police 13 
 
 thoughtful and taciturn; and people looked upon him as a 
 man capable of ugly deeds. A Councillor of State under 
 the First Consul was as powerful as a Minister. Malin 
 t played a great part in Paris. He was one of the commis¬ 
 sioners employed upon the Code. He bought one of the 
 finest mansions in the Faubourg Saint Germain after his 
 marriage with the daughter of a rich contractor named 
 Sibuelle, who had fallen into disgrace. After receivers- 
 general were instituted, this worthy was associated with 
 Marion’s brother in the department of the Aube. So 
 Malin only once came back to Gondreville; he left 
 Grevin to look after his interests there. 
 
 After all, what had he, the sometime representative of 
 the Aube, to fear from an ex-president of the Arcis Jacobin 
 club ? Yet, the townspeople not unnaturally shared the 
 ; peasants’ bad opinion of Michu; and Marion, Malin, and 
 Grevin, without committing themselves, took it for granted 
 that he was an extremely dangerous character. Nor did 
 the action of the authorities, who had orders from head- 
 . quarters to keep the bailiff under police supervision, tend 
 to destroy this opinion. People began to wonder how it 
 was that Michu kept his place, and finally decided that the 
 master was too much afraid of his bailiff to turn him out. 
 After this who can fail to understand the meaning of the 
 . deep melancholy of Marthe’s expression ? 
 
 Marthe had been piously brought up from the first by 
 her mother. Both women were good Catholics. The 
 tanner s opinions and conduct had given them pain. The 
 red colour came into Marthe’s face whenever she thought 
 of the day when she was dressed as a goddess and paraded 
 about the city of Troyes. Her father forced her to marry 
 Michu; she was too much afraid of her husband to judge 
 him, but his bad reputation grew worse. And yet she 
 felt that he loved her; in the depths of her woman’s 
 heart there was a very true and real affection for the ter¬ 
 rible revolutionary. She had never seen him do anything 
 
14 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 that was not right; he never spoke a rough word to her, at 
 any rate; nay, he tried to guess her every wish. He was 
 almost always out of the house, for he thought, poor pariah, 
 that his presence was disagreeable to her. Marthe and 
 Michu, mutually distrustful, might be said to live in an 
 armed neutrality, to use the modern phrase. 
 
 For seven years people had pointed the finger at her^as 
 the executioner’s daughter and the wife of a husband 
 branded as a traitor. Marthe felt it keenly. Beauvisage, 
 the tenant of Bellache, the farm in the plain to the right 
 of the avenue, used to come past the lodge, and often she 
 had heard the man say: — 
 
 ‘That is Judas’s house ! ’ 
 
 Beauvisage was attached to the Simeuses. 
 
 The bailiff* seemed to have done his best to complete the 
 extraordinary resemblance to the thirteenth apostle, to 
 which, in fact, he owed the horrible nickname given to 
 him all over the country-side. And it was this trouble, 
 and certain vague but ever-present forebodings that made 
 Marthe look grave and thoughtful. Nothing brings more , 
 deep dejection than the sense of undeserved and hopeless « 
 degradation. A painter surely might have made a great 
 picture of this little group of pariahs, in one of the lovel 
 liest spots in that Champagne country, where the landscape 
 is usually so dreary. 
 
 c Francois ! ’ shouted the bailiff to hasten the boy’s speed. 
 Francois Michu, a child of ten, was free of the park 
 and forest where he levied his little tithe, ate the fruit, 
 went a-hunting, and knew no trouble nor care. He was > 
 the one happy creature in a household cut off from the 
 rest of the world by the forest and the park ; and no less 
 cut off from their kind by a feeling of repulsion in which 
 every one shared. * 
 
 c Just pick up these things,’ said Michu, pointing to the 
 parapet, ‘and put this away. Look me in the face ! You 
 ought to love your father and mother, eh ? ’ 
 
The Trials of the Police 15 
 
 For answer the child jumped up to kiss his father, but 
 Michu turned to take up the rifle and pushed him away. 
 
 ‘ Good! You have blabbed sometimes about things that 
 t are d° ne here, he continued, fixing two eyes, formidable 
 as a wildcat’s, upon the child. 4 Now mind this; if you 
 tell tales of the smallest thing that happens here to 
 Gaucher or to the folk at Bellache or Grouage, or even 
 to Marianne that is so fond of us, you will be the death 
 of your father. Don’t let this happen again, and I will 
 forgive you for yesterday’s prattle.’ 
 
 The little one began to cry. 
 
 . ‘ Don t cry ; but if anybody asks you any questions, say 
 
 I don t know, as the peasants do. There are people 
 prowling about the country, and I don’t like the looks of 
 them. There! You understood, didn’t you ? ’ added 
 * Michu, turning to the women. ‘So keep still tongues 
 in your head.’ 
 
 ‘ What are you going to do, dear ? ’ 
 
 Michu was carefully measuring a charge of powder and 
 , loading his rifle. He laid the weapon down on the 
 . parapet and said to Marthe, 4 Nobody knows that I have 
 this rifle ; come, and stand here in front! ’ 
 
 Couraut got up, barking furiously. 
 
 4 That’s a good sharp dog! ” exclaimed Michu ; 4 there 
 ; are spies about, I am certain_’ 
 
 The presence of a spy can always be felt. Couraut 
 and Michu seemed to have but one and the same life- 
 ?ey lived like an Arab and his horse in the desert. 
 
 , Michu knew the meaning of every sound that Couraut 
 made, as well as the dog could read the expression of his 
 master s face and knew his thoughts by instinct. 
 
 ‘What do you say to that?’ Michu exclaimed in a 
 whisper, as two suspicious-looking persons appeared in a 
 side walk, and came towards them. 
 
 4 What is going on hereabouts ? They are from Paris,’ 
 said the old mother. 
 
16 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 ‘Aha! That’s the way,’ said Michu. c Just hide my 
 rifle,’ he added, in his wife’s ear. c They are coming 
 towards us.’ 
 
 The two men from Paris, now crossing the gravelled 
 space, might have served as types for a painter. The 
 one, and seemingly the inferior, wore high boots with tops 
 turned down rather lower than usual to afford a view of a 
 pair of roguish calves covered with striped silk stockings of 
 dubious cleanliness. His ribbed, apricot-coloured breeches 
 fastened with metal buttons were a trifle too ample, and 
 comfortably slack about his person, and it was evident from 
 the position of the worn creases that he was a man of 
 sedentary habits. A quilted waistcoat, loaded with em¬ 
 broidery and fastened by one button only across the chest, 
 contributed to a general air of slovenliness that was further 
 increased by the black corkscrew curls which hid his 
 forehead and hung about his cheeks. A blue and white 
 cameo pin adorned his shirt front, and a double line of 
 steel watch-chain hung below his waist. His cinnamon- 
 brown coat would have caught the eye of a caricaturist 
 at once, for the long tail behind exactly resembled the 
 codfish from which the garment took its name. The 
 codfish-tail coat was in fashion for ten years. Napo¬ 
 leon’s empire lasted not much longer. 
 
 A limp and very voluminous cravat enabled this indi¬ 
 vidual to muffle himself to the nose in its voluminous 
 folds. A pimpled countenance, a long, swollen, brick- 
 red nose, high-coloured cheek bones, a toothless but ap¬ 
 palling, sensual mouth, a low forehead, and ears adorned 
 with thick gold rings, were seemingly grotesque features 
 made terrible by two little slits of eyes, set like a pig’s 
 eyes in the man’s head; there was obdurate greed in them, 
 and a jovial, and, so to speak, hilarious cruelty. Those 
 keen-sighted, burrowing eyes of freezing and frozen blue, 
 might have been taken as a model for that formidable Eye 
 which the police took for their emblem during the Revo- 
 
The Trials of the Police 17 
 
 lution. This worthy wore black silk gloves and carried 
 a little switch. He was unmistakably an official person- 
 age > there was that in his bearing and in his manner of 
 * ta king snuff and thrusting it into his nostrils, which told 
 of the self-importance of an understrapper of the Gov¬ 
 ernment the man who magnifies his office when clothed 
 with a little brief authority from high quarters. 
 
 Hls companion’s costume was in the same taste, but it was 
 elegant and elegantly worn, and care was expended upon all 
 its details. He wore tight-fitting breeches and boots a la 
 Suwarrow which creaked as he walked. His shirt collar 
 , reached the tips of his ears, valuable trinkets adorned his 
 person, and he wore a spencer over his coat, an aristocratic 
 fashion adopted by the Clichyens and gilded youth of the 
 Revolution and destined to survive both gilded youth and 
 1 Clichyens. Fashions in dress outlived political parties in 
 those days, a sure sign of unsettlement which reappeared 
 even in 1830. This perfect muscadin seemed to be about 
 thirty years of age; he had the air of a well-bred man and 
 ' a consciousness of some kind of superiority seemed to lurk 
 beneath coxcombry that almost reached the pitch of inso¬ 
 lence. His pallid countenance looked as though there was 
 not a single drop of blood in it; there was a sardonic turn 
 about the sharp, short nose; it put you in mind of a skull, 
 and the green eyes were inscrutable; they told no more 
 than the thin, pinched lips chose to tell. 
 
 The man in the cinnamon-brown coat seemed almost 
 genial, compared with this thin, wizened young man, who 
 twirled a rattan cane with a gold knob that glittered in the 
 sunshine; the first might be willing to take the execu¬ 
 tioner s place; but the second would not hesitate to ensnare 
 innocence and beauty and virtue in the toils of slander and 
 intrigue, and drowned or poisoned his victims with perfect 
 equanimity. The red-faced man would have tried to cheer 
 up the victim with rough jokes; the other would not so 
 much as smile. The first, a man of forty-five, had evi- 
 
 B 
 
18 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 dently a weakness for women and good cheer. Such men 
 have always some appetite which makes them the slaves of 
 their calling. But his companion had neither vices nor 
 passions. He was a born spy ; he was in the diplomatic k 
 service ; his was a love of art for art’s sake. He found 
 the ideas, his fellow carried them out; he represented the 
 thought, the other was its outward and visible manifestation. 
 
 c This must surely be Gondreville, my good woman,’ the , 
 younger man began. 
 
 c People hereabouts don’t say “ my good woman,” ’ 
 answered Michu. ‘We plain folk still call each other 
 plain u citizen ” and “ citizeness ” out here.’ 
 
 c Oh ! ’ returned the young man, in the most natural 
 way in the world. He did not seem to be at all put out. 
 
 It sometimes happens that a card player, in the middle 
 of a run of luck, feels that his luck is broken at the sight 
 of a new face opposite; the man’s voice, manner, and 
 expression, like his way of shuffling the cards, are so many 
 warnings of defeat. All gamblers, and ecarte players espe¬ 
 cially, know this sensation. Michu felt something of the f 
 kind, a prophetic collapse. Dim forebodings of death, a 
 confused vision of the scaffold, flashed across his mind; a 
 voice cried that this muscadin would be his death, though 
 as yet the two men were total strangers. So he had spoken 
 rudely ; he was and meant to be uncivil. 
 
 c You are State Councillor Malin’s man, aren’t you?’ 
 asked the second man from Paris. 
 
 c I am my own master,’ returned Michu. 
 
 The younger man turned to the women, and said, in 
 the most polite manner, c Are we at Gondreville, ladies ? 
 That is all we want to know; M. Malin is expecting us.’ 
 
 c There is the park,’ said Michu, pointing to the open 
 iron gate. 
 
 c And why are you hiding that rifle, my pretty child ? ’ 
 said the jovial personage (he had caught a glimpse of the 
 barrel as he came through the gate). 
 
The Trials of the Police 19 
 
 ‘ Always at it, even in the country,’ smiled the younger 
 man. A thought struck them both; they turned back, 
 and Michu read their suspicions in spite of their impassive 
 t faces. Marthe allowed them to look at the rifle, Couraut 
 barking all the time; she felt convinced that her husband 
 was meditating some dark deed, and was almost pleased by 
 the strangers’ perspicacity. Michu flung her a glance that 
 t made her tremble; then he took up the rifle and set about 
 loading it with a bullet, accepting all the consequences of 
 the encounter and risk of possible detection. It seemed as 
 if he did not value his life in the least, and his wife clearly 
 i understood his fatal resolution. 
 
 ‘ So you have wolves in these parts, have you ? ’ asked 
 the younger man. 
 
 ‘ There are always wolves wherever there are sheep. 
 
 • You are in Champagne, and yonder there is a forest. But 
 we have wild boars as well, and we have big and small 
 game, we have some of all sorts,’ said Michu, in a sarcastic 
 tone. 
 
 The two men exchanged glances, and the older said, ‘ I’ll 
 wager, Corentin, that this is that Michu fellow-’ 
 
 ‘We did not herd pigs together that I know of,’ said the 
 bailiff. 
 
 ‘ No, but we have presided over Jacobins, citizen,’ re¬ 
 turned the cynical elder, — ‘you at Arcis, and I elsewhere. 
 You keep up the courtesy of the carmagnole, but it is out 
 of fashion now, my boy.’ 
 
 ‘ The park is large, I think we might lose ourselves in 
 it; since you are the bailiff, you can show us the way to 
 the chateau,’ the man addressed as Corentin remarked in a 
 peremptory tone. 
 
 Michu whistled for his boy and continued to ram home 
 the charge. Corentin looked Marthe over with indifferent 
 eyes, whereas his companion seemed to be charmed with 
 her; but Corentin saw traces of anguish that escaped the 
 notice of the old libertine who took alarm at the rifle. And 
 
20 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 in this little, yet important trifle, the two men’s whole 
 characters were revealed. 
 
 4 1 have an appointment on the other side of the forest,’ 
 said Michu; 4 1 cannot go with you myself, but my boy here 
 will show you the way to the chateau. What way can 
 you have come to Gondreville? Did you go round by^ 
 Cinq-Cygne ? ’ 
 
 4 Like you, we had something on hand in the forest, said 
 Corentin, without a trace of irony in his manner. 
 
 4 Francois ! ’ called Michu, 4 show these gentlemen the 
 way to the chateau*, take them along the bye-paths, so that 
 they will meet no one on the way; they are to keep clear 
 of beaten tracks. — Come here a minute ! ’ he added, seeing 
 that the two men had turned their backs and walked away, 
 talking together in a low voice. 
 
 Michu caught up the child and kissed him almost sol¬ 
 emnly, with a look in his face that confirmed his wife’s 
 fears. A cold shiver ran down her back ; she looked at 
 her mother, but her eyes were dry; she was past crying. 
 
 4 Off with you,’ said Michu, addressing the boy. And 
 he watched him out of sight. 
 
 Couraut began to bark again, this time in the direction 
 
 of Grouage. 
 
 4 Oh! there’s Violette. That is the third time that he 
 has been past here since the morning. What can be going 
 on ? That will do, Couraut! ’ 
 
 A few minutes later they heard a horse come trotting on 
 the road, and Violette, mounted on one of the ponies much 
 in use among farmers round about Paris, showed his face. 
 It was a deeply wrinkled countenance, the colour of wood, 
 looking all the darker under the shadow of a round, broad- 
 brimmed hat. His grey, malevolent, bright eyes dis¬ 
 sembled the treachery of his character. A pair of thin 
 legs, covered to the knees with linen gaiters, hung unsup¬ 
 ported by the stirrups, so that they were kept in position, 
 to all appearance, by the weight of his thick, hobnailed 
 
The Trials of the Police 
 
 21 
 
 boots. His grey hair fell in curls at the back of his head 
 over a limousine , a rough black and white striped carter’s 
 cloak, which he wore over his short jacket. The man’s 
 clothes, his short-legged grey pony, his way of riding, with 
 his chest thrown out and shoulders thrown back, the jagged 
 and worn bridle held in a coarse, chapped, earth-coloured 
 hand, — everything about Violette gave the impression that 
 this was a grasping, ambitious peasant, who means to 
 own land and will have it at all costs. The line of his 
 mouth, with its bluish lip, might have been cut by a sur¬ 
 geon’s bistoury; his face and forehead were so furrowed 
 by innumerable wrinkles, that all flexibility was lost, and 
 such expression as it possessed lay wholly in the contours. 
 There seemed to be a menace in the hard, sharply cut lines, 
 in spite of the air of humility which almost all country 
 people can assume to hide their feelings and their schemes, 
 a humility which answers the same purpose as the imper¬ 
 turbable gravity of the Oriental and the savage. 
 
 Violette had been a day labourer. He had come to be 
 the servant of Grouage by a system of ever-increasing 
 malevolence, and he still kept up that system though he 
 had reached a position far above his first aspirations. He 
 wished jll to h isjieigh bour and he wishe d it ^ ferve ntly; if 
 h e had the chance he would help him to ill-luckT and it 
 
 was a labour of love. Violette was frankly envious, hut 
 
 with all his malevolence, he ke pt ^wit hin the limits of the 
 law, precisely as the_Ojvpositi on does, an d neitliejLmore nor 
 less. It was his belief that his own success depended 
 upon the failure of others; every one above him was an 
 enemy against whom any weapons were fair. This is a 
 very common type of character among the peasants. His 
 great affair of the moment was to obtain from Malin an 
 extension of his lease, which had but six years to run. 
 He was jealous of Michu’s success, so he kept a close 
 watch over him. The peasants used to tease Violette 
 about his intimacy with the Michus; but with a hope of 
 
22 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 another twelve years’ lease before his eyes, the cunning 
 farmer was on the watch to do a service to the Govern¬ 
 ment or to Malin, and he knew that Malin distrusted 
 Michu. With the help of the gamekeeper at Gondreville, 
 the rural policeman, and the peasant folk that gathered 
 firewood, Violette kept the commissary at Arcis informed 
 of every little thing that Michu did. That functionary had 
 failed to enlist Marianne, the servant-girl, in the interests 
 of the Government; but Violette and his confederates knew 
 all that went on through Gaucher, the lad, bribing him 
 with trifles, such as waistcoats, buckles, cotton stockings, 
 and nice things to eat. Michu trusted Gaucher, and the 
 boy, for that matter, had no suspicion that his gossip 
 could do any harm. Michu did not know that Violette 
 blackened and distorted everything that he did, and made 
 a crime of every action with the wildest suppositions; but , 
 he knew the man’s vile motive for coming so often to the 
 house, and amused himself by mystifying him. 
 
 4 What, here again ! You must have a good deal to do 
 over at Bellache,’ said Michu. , 
 
 c Again ! is a word of reproach, M. Michu. You don’t 
 reckon to play the sparrows a tune on such a clarionet, do 
 
 you ? I did not know you had that rifle-’ 
 
 c It came up in one of my fields where rifles grow,’ 
 returned Michu. 4 Stay, this is how I sow them.’ He * 
 pointed the gun at a viper thirty paces away and cut the 
 reptile in two. 
 
 4 Did you get that highwayman’s weapon to protect your 
 master ? Perhaps he made you a present of it.’ 4 
 
 4 Came down from Paris on purpose,’ said Michu. 
 
 4 It is a fact that there is a good deal of talk about his 
 journey, all over the country-side. Some say that he is in 
 disgrace, and some that he wants to see his way clear * 
 here. — And, come to think of it, why should he drop 
 down on us without a word of warning;, just like the First 
 Consul ? ’ 
 
The Trials of the Police 23 
 
 4 I am not such a friend of his as to be in his confidence.’ 
 
 4 Then you have not seen him yet ? ’ 
 
 4 I did not know that he was here till I came back from 
 my round in the forest,’ said Michu, reloading his rifle. 
 
 4 He has sent to Arcis for M. Grevin; they will be 
 tribuning something or other.’ 
 
 (Malin had been a tribune once.) 
 
 4 If you are going in the direction of Cinq-Cygne, you 
 can take me with you; I am going that way,’ said Michu, 
 turning to Violette. 
 
 But Violette was too timorous to take such a man as 
 Michu up behind him; he set spurs to his horse; and the 
 Judas of Gondreville, gun on shoulder, made a dash for the 
 avenue. 
 
 4 Who can Michu have in his mind ? ’ said Marthe when 
 he had gone. 
 
 4 He has looked very dark ever since he knew that M. Malin 
 was here,’ said her mother. 4 But it is damp; let us go in.’ 
 
 The two women were sitting in the chimney-corner 
 when Couraut began to bark. 
 
 4 There is Michu ! ’ cried Marthe. 
 
 And indeed it was Michu who came upstairs. His wife 
 in anxiety went to him in their room. 
 
 4 See if there is any one in the house,’ he said in an un¬ 
 steady voice. 
 
 4 No one,’ she said; 4 Marianne is out in the field with the 
 cow, and Gaucher-’ 
 
 4 Where is Gaucher ? ’ 
 
 4 1 do not know.’ 
 
 4 1 have my doubts of that young rogue. Go up to the 
 garret and make a thorough search; look for him in every 
 nook and corner in the place.’ 
 
 Marthe went. When she came back again, her husband 
 was on his knees at his prayers. 
 
 4 What is the matter ? ” she asked, in dismay. Michu 
 
24 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 put his arm about her waist, drew her towards him, kissed 
 her on her forehead, and said unsteadily, c If we are never to 
 see each other again, you ought to know how much I have 
 loved you, my poor wife. There is a letter for you in 
 a round tin box buried at the foot of the larch yonder in 
 that clump of trees,’ he continued after a pause, indicating 
 the tree as he spoke. c Follow the instructions in the let¬ 
 ter from point to point. Do not touch it till after my 
 death. After all, whatever may happen to me, think, in 
 spite of men’s injustice, that this arm of mine dealt justice 
 for God.’ 
 
 Marthe’s face had grown paler and paler till she was 
 white as her linen. Her eyes were wide with terror; she 
 gazed fixedly at her husband, and tried to speak, but her 
 throat was parched. Michu slipped from her like a 
 shadow. He had tied Couraut fast to the bed-foot, and 
 the animal began to howl in despair. 
 
 Michu had serious cause to be angry with M. Marion; 
 but all his anger was transferred to a man far more criminal 
 in his opinion, and that man was Malin. Malin’s secrets 
 were open to the bailiff’s eyes. No one was so well quali¬ 
 fied to appreciate the State Councillor’s conduct. In mat¬ 
 ters political, Michu’s father-in-law had been in Malin’s 
 confidence at the time when Malin was nominated, through 
 Grevin’s diligence, to represent the Aube in the Conven¬ 
 tion. 
 
 Perhaps it may be worth while to explain how the 
 Simeuses and the Cinq-Cygnes came to confront Malin, 
 and to show that the circumstances that weighed so heavily 
 on the destiny of the twins and Mademoiselle de Cinq- 
 Cygne, weighed yet more heavily on Marthe and Michu. 
 
 The Hotel Cinq-Cygne at Troyes stood opposite the 
 Hotel Simeuse. When a populace let loose by hands no | 
 less cunning than prudent had sacked the Hotel Simeuse; 
 when the Marquis and Marquise had been discovered and 
 
The Trials of the Police 25 
 
 delivered over to the National Guard, who took them to 
 prison on a charge of corresponding with the enemies of 
 the Nation; then the mob, arguing logically, raised the 
 t shout, 4 To the Cinq-Cygnes ! ’ It was inconceivable to 
 them that the Cinq-Cygnes should be innocent of the 
 crimes of the Simeuses. 
 
 The brave old Marquis de Simeuse had two sons, two 
 lads of eighteen; he was afraid that their courage might 
 get them into trouble; and to save them he sent them, a few 
 minutes before the storm broke, to their aunt, the Com- 
 tesse de Cinq-Cygne. Two attached servants locked the 
 young men into the house. The old Marquis bade them 
 keep everything from his sons’ knowledge if the worst 
 came to the worst. Laurence de Cinq-Cygne, then a girl 
 of twelve, loved both her cousins equally, nor of the two 
 brothers could it be said which loved her best. The like¬ 
 ness between the two Simeuses, as often happens with 
 twins, was so strong that for a long while their mother 
 dressed them in different colours so as to know them apart. 
 The first born was named Paul Marie; the younger, 
 Marie Paul. 
 
 Laurence de Cinq-Cygne was in the secret of the situa¬ 
 tion ; the girl played a woman’s part excellently well. 
 She coaxed and implored, and kept her cousins in the 
 house till the mob surrounded the Hotel Cinq-Cygne. 
 The brothers learned the danger at the same moment, and 
 exchanged their thoughts in a single glance. They decided 
 on their course at once. Their two servants and the 
 Comtesse’s men were armed, the doors barricaded, the 
 shutters closed, and the two young men appeared at a 
 window with five servants behind them and the Abbe 
 d’Hauteserre, a relative of the Cinq-Cygnes. The eight 
 brave men opened a murderous fire on the mob. Every 
 shot killed or wounded an assailant. Laurence, instead of 
 giving way to despair, loaded and reloaded for them with 
 extraordinary coolness, and served out bullets and powder. 
 
26 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 The Comtesse de Cinq-Cygne threw herself on her knees 
 and began to pray. 
 
 c What are you doing, mother ?’ asked Laurence. 
 c I am praying for them and for you.’ 
 
 Sublime words spoken once before under similar cir¬ 
 cumstances, by the mother of the Prince de la Paix in 
 Spain. Eleven men were killed and lay among the wounded 
 in the street. A reception of this kind may have a cooling or 
 an exciting effect on a mob ; they either warm to their work 
 or they give up. The men in front fell back in panic, but 
 the crowd behind had come to plunder and slay, and at the 
 sight of their dead, they raised a howl of c Murder ! ’ 
 
 Prudent folk went off in search of the Representative of 
 the People. Meanwhile, the brothers had heard the his¬ 
 tory of the day’s fatal events; they suspected the Represent¬ 
 ative of a wish to ruin their house ; suspicion soon became 
 a certainty, and hot for vengeance they took up their places 
 under the arched gateway, loaded their guns ready to shoot 
 down Malin as soon as he showed himself. The Countess 
 lost her head completely; she saw her house in ashes, her t 
 daughter murdered before her eyes, and reproached her 
 nephews for a gallant defence that set all France talking 
 for a week. Laurence opened the door a few inches in 
 reply to Malin’s summons. At sight of her he came in, 
 relying on his own formidable reputation and the child’s * 
 helplessness. But when he demanded the reason for this 
 armed resistance, she cut him short at the first word. 
 
 c What, sir, do you give liberty to France, and cannot 
 protect people in their own houses ? They want to mur- * 
 der us and pull down our hotel; have we no right to keep 
 them out by force ? ’ 
 
 Malin stood nailed to the spot. 
 
 c You! the grandson of a bricklayer employed by the • 
 Great Marquis to build his chateau, allow our father to be 
 dragged away to prison, on the strength of a slanderous 
 lie ! ’ cried Marie Paul. 
 
The Trials of the Police 27 
 
 Malin saw each young man clutch convulsively at his 
 rifle, and gave himself up for lost. 4 He shall be set at 
 liberty/ he said. 
 
 4 That promise of yours has saved your life, 5 Marie Paul 
 said solemnly. 4 But if it is not fulfilled by to-night, we 
 shall know where to find you again. 5 
 
 4 As for that howling mob outside, 5 added Laurence, 
 4 unless you send them away, the first shot from the win¬ 
 dow shall be for you. Now, M. Malin, go out! 5 
 
 Malin went out and harangued the crowd. He talked 
 about the sacredness of the hearth, the right of habeas corpus , 
 and the fact that an Englishman’s house is his castle. He 
 said that the Law and the People were supreme; that the 
 Law meant the People; that the People should only act 
 through the Law, and that might should always be on the 
 side of right. Dire necessity gave him eloquence. The 
 mob dispersed. But he never forgot that scorn in the 
 faces of the Simeuses, nor the tone of Mademoiselle de 
 Cinq-Cygne’s 4 Go out! 5 
 
 So, when the Cinq-Cygne lands were sold by the Nation 
 (Laurence’s brother, the Comte de Cinq-Cygne, being an 
 emigre ), the partition was made strictly. The agents of 
 the District, acting on Malin’s instructions, left Laurence 
 nothing but the chateau, the park and gardens, and the farm 
 of Cinq-Cygne, for Laurence had no right to more than her 
 legitime , the minimum share of the inheritance secured by 
 law to each child. The Nation stood in the place of the 
 Comte de Gondreville, especially since he had taken arms 
 against the Republic. 
 
 The night after this stormy outbreak, Laurence prayed 
 her cousins to leave France. She begged so earnestly, 
 fearing that Malin’s treachery might ensnare them, that 
 they took horse and reached the outposts of the Prussian 
 army. They had scarcely reached the forest of Gondre¬ 
 ville before the Hotel Cinq-Cygne was surrounded. Malin, 
 Representative of the People, came himself and in force to 
 
28 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 arrest the heirs of the House of Simeuse. He did not 
 venture to lay hands on the Comtesse de Cinq-Cygne, 
 who was ill in bed with a terrible attack of nervous fever, 
 nor yet on Laurence, a child of twelve. The servants, in t 
 terror of the Republic and its severity, had all disap¬ 
 peared. 
 
 Next morning the news of the stand made by the two 
 brothers, and of their flight to Prussia, had spread all about 
 thd neighbourhood. Three thousand persons gathered in 
 front of the Hotel Cinq-Cygne, and the house was pulled 
 down with inexplicable rapidity. Madame de Cinq-Cygne 
 was removed to the Hotel Simeuse, where she died in a , 
 second attack of fever. 
 
 Michu only appeared on the political scene after all these 
 things had taken place, for the Marquis and Marquise 
 remained in prison for five months. The representative , 
 of the Aube, meanwhile, was away on a mission. But 
 now that Marion had sold Gondreville to Malin, and the 
 popular ebullition was forgotten in the country, Michu 
 understood Malin thoroughly, or at any rate thought that 
 he understood him ; for Malin, like Fouche, was one of 
 those many-sided men with unfathomed depths under every 
 side of their characters, who are inscrutable at the time, and 
 can only be understood long after the game is over. 
 
 Before taking any important step in life, Malin never 
 failed to take counsel with his faithful friend Grevin, the 
 notary at Arcis. Grevin’s judgment on men and things at 
 a distance was sound, clear-sighted, and accurate. Such a 
 habit is the wisdom of a second-rate man and the source *• 
 of his strength. Now, in November 1803, the State 
 Councillor’s position was so critical that a letter might 
 have compromised the friends. Malin’s nomination as a 
 senator was certain; he was afraid to have an explanation ' 
 in Paris; so he left his town house and came out to 
 Gondreville, choosing from among several reasons for his 
 departure, that one which should give him an air of zeal in 
 
The Trials of the Police 29 
 
 * 
 
 Bonaparte’s eyes, though he thought not of the State, but 
 wholly of himself. 
 
 So while Michu lay in wait, and followed him in the 
 park, watching like a savage, for the ripe moment for his 
 revenge, the politic Malin, with his habit of squeezing his 
 own advantage out of every event, had brought his friend 
 to walk in a little space of grass in the English garden. 
 It was a lonely spot, well adapted to secret conferences. 
 The pair therefore were standing together in the middle of 
 the grass plot, talking in such low tones that no one at a 
 distance could overhear them, while they could change the 
 conversation so soon as any listener approached. 
 
 c Why not have stayed in a room at the chateau ? ’ asked 
 Grevin. 
 
 c Did you not see those two men that the Prefect of 
 Police has sent me ? ’ 
 
 (Though Fouche had been the soul of the consular cab¬ 
 inet in the affair of the plot in which Pichegru, Georges, 
 Moreau, and Polignac were involved, he was not at that 
 time the Minister of Police, but an ordinary State Coun¬ 
 cillor like Malin himself.) 
 
 c Those two men are Fouche’s two arms,’ he continued. 
 c One of them put an end to the rising in the West in a 
 fortnight in the year VII. That was that young muscadin 
 with vinegar on his lips, and verjuice in his eyes, and a 
 face like a decanter of lemonade. The other is one of 
 Lenoir’s brood, the only man to whom the great traditions 
 of the old police were handed down. I simply asked for 
 an ordinary detective, backed up by an accredited agent; 
 and they send me yonder pair of sharpers. Ah ! Grevin, 
 Fouche has a mind to know my game, beyond a doubt. 
 That is why I left those gentlemen to finish their dinner 
 at the chateau. Let them look where they like, they will 
 not find Louis XVIII there, nor the slightest clue.’ 
 
 c Well and good; but what may this game be that you 
 are playing ? ’ 
 
jo A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 c Eh ! a double game, my friend, is dangerous; but so 
 far as Fouche is concerned, this is a triple game. I am 
 in the confidence of the Bourbons, and it is possible that 
 he has got wind of it.’ 
 
 c You in the confidence of the Bourbons ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes.’ 
 
 c Then you do not remember Favras ? ’ 
 
 The remark seemed to make an impression on the 
 Councillor. 
 
 <• Since when ? ’ continued Grevin after a pause. 
 
 c Since the Consul was appointed for life.’ 
 
 c But there are no proofs ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Not that! ’ said Malin, clicking his thumb nail against 
 his front teeth. 
 
 In a few words Malin gave his friend a concise sketch 
 of the critical position into which Bonaparte was forcing 
 England. The national existence of England was threat¬ 
 ened by the camp at Boulogne. Malin explained the ex¬ 
 tent of a plan of invasion, of which France and Europe 
 knew nothing, albeit Pitt had his suspicions of it. Then 
 he sketched the critical position into which England in 
 turn was forcing Bonaparte. A formidable coalition,— 
 Prussia, Austria, and Russia, — subsidised by English gold, 
 was to bring seven hundred thousand men into the field. 
 And at the same time, France was encompassed by an 
 appalling network of conspiracy which united the Moun¬ 
 tain, the Chouans, the Royalist party, and the Princes. 
 
 ‘ So long as Louis XVIII had three consuls to deal with, 
 he believed that anarchy would continue, and, favoured 
 by some movement or other, he hoped to play a return 
 giatch for the 13th Vendemiaire and the 18th Fructidor,’ 
 laid Malin. c But this consulship for life has unmasked 
 Bonaparte’s designs. He will be Emperor before long. 
 The sub-lieutenant of old days is thinking of founding 
 a dynasty ! So this time it is an attempt on his life; and 
 they are setting about it even more cleverly than they did 
 
The Trials of the Police 31 
 
 in that Rue Saint Nicaise business. Pichegru, Georges, 
 Moreau, and the Due d’Enghien are in it, so are two of 
 the Comte d’Artois’ friends — Polignac and Riviere.’ 
 
 ‘ What a combination ! ’ exclaimed Grevin. 
 
 ‘ France is honeycombed with conspiracy under the sur¬ 
 face. They want the assault to be general; no stone will 
 be left unturned. A hundred energetic men with Georges 
 at their head are to set upon the Consular Guard and the 
 Consul, man to man.’ 
 
 ‘ Very well; denounce them.’ 
 
 ‘The Consul, the Minister of Police, the Prefect, and 
 Fouche have held some of the threads of this wide-spread 
 web these two months past. But they do not know the 
 whole extent of it; and at the present moment they are 
 leaving almost all the conspirators at liberty, so as to 
 find out all.’ 
 
 ‘As to right,’ continued the notary, ‘ the Bourbons have 
 far more right to conceive and plan and execute an at¬ 
 tempt against Bonaparte, than Bonaparte had to conspire 
 on the 18th Brumaire against the Republic. He was a 
 son of the Republic ; he slew his mother; whereas the 
 Bourbons want to come back to their house. The list 
 of emigres was closed, and names have been continually 
 struck out of it; the Roman Catholic religion has been 
 restored, and reactionary decrees are multiplied. I can 
 understand that the Princes, seeing all this, know that 
 their return would be a difficult business, not to say 
 impossible. Bonaparte becomes the one obstacle in the 
 way, and they wish to clear away the obstacle. Noth¬ 
 ing more simple. If the conspirators fail, they are brig¬ 
 ands; if they succeed, they will be heroes. Under the 
 circumstances your hesitation seems to me to be natural 
 enough.’ 
 
 ‘This is the question,’ said Malin. ‘The Due d’En¬ 
 ghien s head is to be flung down to the Bourbons, as the 
 Convention flung down the head of Louis XVI to the 
 
j 2 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 Kings of Europe; and Bonaparte must be made to do it. 
 Then he will be as much implicated as the rest of us in 
 the courses of the Revolution; or else the present idol 
 of the French nation and their future Emperor will be t 
 hurled down, and the real throne will be raised on the 
 wreck of his greatness. I am at the mercy of events ; 
 of a well-directed bullet •, of another and more successfu 
 machine like the one in the Rue Saint Nicaise. I have 
 not been told everything. The proposal was that I should 
 rally the Council of State at the critical moment, and con¬ 
 trol the action of the legal machinery that will bring about 
 the restoration of the Bourbons/ 
 c Wait/ suggested the notary. 
 
 cl cannot wait. I have only this present moment in 
 which to make up my mind.’ 
 
 4 How so ? ’ . 
 
 c The two Simeuses are in the plot. They are here in 
 the neighbourhood. I must either raise a pursuit, allow 
 them to commit themselves and rid myself of them, or 
 else protect them secretly. I asked for understrappers, 
 and they send me the pick of their lynxes; and send them 
 through Troyes so that they may have the gendarmerie 
 at their orders.’ 
 
 C Gondreville is a bird in the hand, the conspiracy is a 
 bird in the bush,’ pronounced Grevin. c Neither Fouche 
 nor Talleyrand, your two partners, are in it. Be above¬ 
 board with them. What! every man that cut off King 
 Louis’s head is in the Government, France is full of 
 buyers of National lands, and you must try to bring back 
 those that will want Gondreville again! Unless the 
 Bourbons are downright idiots they will be sure to pass 
 a sponge over all that we have done. Warn Bonaparte.^ 
 c A man of my rank does not stoop to denounce, 
 
 Malin answered quickly. 
 
 4 Your rank ? ’ cried Grevin, with a smile. 
 
 4 1 have been offered the Seals.’ 
 
The Trials of the Police 33 
 
 ‘ I can understand that you feel dazzled; it is my duty 
 to see clearly through this political darkness, to smell the 
 way out. Now it is impossible to foresee events that 
 might bring back the Bourbons, when a General Bona¬ 
 parte has. eighty men-of-war and four hundred thousand 
 men. It is an even harder thing, in political forecasts, 
 
 to riV h ° W Iong 11 ma y be before a tottering power 
 will fall. But Bonaparte’s power is still in the growing 
 stage, old fellow. ... Is it not more likely that Fouche 
 has set some one on to sound you, so as to know the 
 ' bottom of your mind and get rid of you ? ’ 
 
 ‘No. I am sure of the ambassador. And what is 
 more, Fouche would not send me such a pair of apes; for 
 I know them too well not to have, my suspicions.’ 
 
 ‘ I am afraid of them,’ answered Grevin. ‘ Why did 
 Fouche send them, if he does not bear you a grudge and 
 has no wish to put you to the proof? Fouche is not the 
 man to play .such a trick without some reason for it.’ 
 
 ‘That decides me!’ exclaimed Malin. ‘I shall never 
 be at peace with those two Simeuses. Perhaps Fouche 
 who knows my position, has no mind to miss them, and 
 thinks to get at Conde through them.’ 
 
 ‘ Eh ! old man, the owner of Gondreville is not likely to 
 be disturbed under Bonaparte ! ’ 1 
 
 Malm happening to look up just then, caught sight of a 
 gun-barrel gleaming among the leaves of a great lime tree. 
 
 ‘I thought I heard a click as if some one cocked a 
 trigger, and I was not mistaken,’ he remarked, as he took 
 his stand behind the trunk of a large tree. The notary 
 followed him, startled by the sudden move. 
 
 ‘ It is Michu,’ he said. «I can see his red beard.’ 
 
 ‘ Don’t look as if you were frightened,’ resumed Malin, 
 md he walked slowly away. ‘What can the man want 
 vith owners of this place, for he certainly was not aiming 
 it you, he repeated again and again. ‘ If he overheard us, 
 t is my duty to recommend him to the prayers of the con- 
 
 c 
 
2 ^ A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 gregation! We should have done better to go out into 
 the plain. Who the devil would have thought of distrust¬ 
 ing the wind that blows ? ’ 
 
 t Live and learn,’ said the notary; ‘but he was a long 
 way off, and we were talking close together.’ 
 
 i I w ill just mention it to Corentin,’ returned Malm. 
 
 A few minutes later, Michu came home again with a 
 
 white, drawn face. . , , . -r > -c 
 
 ‘ What is the matter with you ? ’ cried his terrified wife. 
 ‘Nothing,’ returned Michu. He saw that Violette was 
 in the house; and for him the man’s presence was like , 
 
 thunderbolt. , , r 
 
 Michu took a chair and sat down quietly by the hre 
 He drew out a letter from a tin canister, such as soldiers 
 use to keep their papers in, and flung the sheet on t e 
 flames. This circumstance, and Marthe’s deep sigh o 
 relief as if some enormous weight were lifted off her mind, 
 tickled Violette’s curiosity not a little. Michu leant his 
 rifle against the chimney-piece with wonderful coolness 
 Marianne and the mother and Marthe were spinning in t e 
 
 ‘ Come, Francois,’ said the bailiff. ‘Come along to bed 
 
 He took the child roughly by the waist and carried hin 
 off. Outside upon the staircase he dropped his voice to - 
 
 ^‘Go’down into the cellar,’ he said in the little lad’s ear 
 ‘ Take two bottles of Macon, empty out one-third of each 
 and fill them up with the cognac that stands on the she 
 of bottles; then take another bottle and fill it half w 
 white wine, and half with brandy. Do it very neatly, an 
 put the three bottles on the top of the empty barrel by th 
 cellar door. As soon as you hear me open the window 
 come out of the cellar, saddle my horse, ride off to th 
 Knaves’ Gibbet, and wait for me there.’ 
 
The Trials of the Police 
 
 35 
 
 c The little rascal never will go to bed/ said Michu 
 ben he came back. c He wants to do like grown-up 
 ople, and hear and see and know all that is going on. 
 
 set my folk a bad example, Daddy Violette.’ 
 c Good Lord !’ cried Violette, c who has loosened your 
 ague ? You never said so much in your life before.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you think that I let you come and spy on me, and 
 n’t see it ? You are on the wrong track, Daddy Violette. 
 you were on my side instead of the side of them that 
 ar me a grudge, I would do better yet for you than a 
 aewal of your lease.’ 
 
 c Better yet? What’s that?’ asked the rapacious 
 asant, opening wide eyes. 
 c I would sell you my land, cheap.’ 
 
 c No bargain is cheap so long as there’s something to 
 y,’ Violette remarked sententiously. 
 c I want to leave the neighbourhood, and I will give you 
 y farm at Mousseau, — steadings, standing crops, and live 
 )ck, — for fifty thousand francs.’ 
 c Really ? ’ 
 
 c Does that suit you ? ’ 
 c Lord, one must see.’ 
 
 c Let us talk it over. But I want a handsel.’ 
 c I have nothing.’ 
 c A word.’ 
 c Two if you like ! ’ 
 
 c Tell me who sent you here just now ? ’ 
 l ; c I had gone and come back again, and I thought I would 
 fst look in and wish you a good night.’ 
 
 1 ‘Come back again and left your horse behind! For 
 bat kind of an idiot do you take me? It is a lie; you 
 all not have my farm.’ 
 
 c Well, then, it was M. Grevin, it was. He said to me, 
 1 Violette, we want Michu; go and look for him, and if he 
 ' not in, wait till he comes.” I thought he meant me to 
 3p here for the evening.’ 
 
36 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 c Are those sharks from Paris still at the chateau ? ’ 
 
 c Ah, I am not so sure; but there were people in th 
 drawing-room.’ 
 
 c You shall have my farm. Let us settle the business 
 Wife, go and find wine for the bargain. Bring us some o 
 the best Roussillon, that belonged to the ex-Marquis. . , 
 We are not children. You will find a couple of bottle 
 on the empty barrel by the cellar door, and a bottle o 
 white wine.’ 
 
 c It is a bargain,’ said Violette, who never got Austere 
 with liquor. c Let us drink.’ 
 
 c You have fifty thousand francs under the bricks on th 
 fioor of your bedroom, all along under the bed; and yo 
 are going to pay them over to me a fortnight after ol 
 Grevin has passed the contract.’ 
 
 Violette’s eyes were fixed in a stare on Michu’s face 
 he grew ghastly pale. 
 
 c Aha! You come sneaking round an old hand of 
 Jacobin that had the honour to preside over the Arc 
 Club, and imagine that he will not see through you. 
 have eyes in my head. I saw that your fioor had bee 
 newly laid, and I felt sure that you had not taken it up t 
 sow corn there. Let us drink.’ 
 
 Violette was troubled. He drank off a large glass wit\ 
 out noticing the strength of the liquor; terror was like 
 hot iron in his vitals, and greed burned hotter than tl" 
 brandy. He would have given a good deal to be at horr 
 again so as to change the position of his hoard. Tl 
 three women smiled. 
 
 c Does that suit you?’ continued Michu, refilling Vic 
 lette’s glass. 
 
 c Why, yes.’ 
 
 c You will be under your own roof, you old rogue !’ 
 
 Half an hour of warm discussion ensued over the da 
 of taking possession and the endless points that peasan 
 raise over a bargain. Assertions were made, and glass< 
 
The Trials of the Police 
 
 37 
 
 ained, there were specious promises and denials, and 
 clamations — c That is true, eh !’ — c Quite true/ — 
 rhat is my last word ! 9 — c As I said before! ’ — c I 
 ish I may have my throat cut if— 9 — c May the wine 
 dson me if I am not telling the clean truth 5 — when in 
 e midst of it all Violette lurched forward and lay with 
 s head on the table; not tipsy, but dead drunk. Michu, 
 itching him, had hurried to the window and opened it, 
 hen the man’s eyes grew troubled. 
 
 c Where is that rascal Gaucher ? ’ he asked, turning to 
 s wife. 
 
 c He is in bed/ 
 
 4 Go and sit across his door, Marianne,’ said the bailiff, 
 dressing the girl, c and keep a watch on him. And you, 
 other, stay downstairs and just look after this spy here, 
 eep a sharp lookout, and don’t open the door to any one 
 it Francois. It is a matter of life and death! ’ he added 
 a deep voice. c Every creature under this roof must say 
 at I have not left the house to-night; stick to that with 
 >ur heads on the block ! ’ Then to his wife, c Come, 
 other, come, put on your shoes and your coif, and we 
 ust be off! No questions; I am coming with you/ 
 
 For the last three quarters of an hour there had been a 
 ;spotic, irresistible authority in the man’s eyes and gest- 
 *es. There is a mysterious source from which men 
 •aw this extraordinary power; it is common to the great 
 iptain who can flash fire through the ranks of men on 
 ie battlefield, to the great orator who carries away his 
 idience, and, let us admit it, the great criminal draws on 
 ie same source for his most daring crimes. An invincible 
 fluence seems at such times to emanate from the man’s 
 *ain; his words are fraught with it; his movements seem 
 > inject his will into others. The three women knew in- 
 inctively that some dreadful crisis was at hand; they felt 
 in the swiftness of his actions. Michu’s face was glis- 
 ning, his forehead spoke, his eyes shone like stars; they 
 
38 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 had seen the beads of sweat at the roots of his hair, an< 
 more than once his voice shook with impatience and rage 
 So Marthe obeyed him passively. Armed to the teeth, ant 
 gun on shoulder, Michu made a dash for the avenue, hi 
 wife followed close behind him, and in a few minutes the 1 
 reached the cross-roads where Francois was waiting hiddei 
 among the brushwood. 
 
 c The boy has sense/ Michu remarked, as he notice* 
 this. It was the first word that he had spoken. His wif 
 had been running so fast that she was breathless and coul 
 not speak. 
 
 c Go back to the lodge, hide in the thickest tree by th 
 house, and watch the country and the park/ said Michi 
 turning to his son. c We are all abed, mind; we shall nc 
 open to anybody. Your grandmother is sitting up, but sh 
 will not stir until she hears you speak. Keep every wor 
 in mind. It is a matter of life and death for your fathe 
 and mother. It must never come out in a court of la\ 
 that we spent the night out of doors.’ 
 
 These words were spoken in the child’s ear. Franco: 
 slipped away through the bushes, like an eel through th 
 mud, and Michu turned to his wife. 
 
 c Up with you/ he cried, c and pray God to be with ut 
 Hold tight! The mare may drop dead.’ 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth before th 
 animal started off like a race-horse at a blow from Michu : 
 heels and a strong grip of his knees. In a quarter of a 
 hour they were clear of the forest. Michu had kept to th 
 short cut, through the darkness, and they stood on th 
 skirts of the wood, and saw the roof ridges of the chatea 
 of Cinq-Cygne lying in the moonlight. Michu tied th 
 horse to a tree, and sprang lightly up a knoll which ovei 
 looked the valley of Cinq-Cygne. 
 
 The chateau on which Marthe and Michu looked dow 
 for a moment was a picturesque detail in the landscape 
 It was neither large nor of any importance from an arch 
 
The Trials of the Police 39 
 
 tural point of view, yet it possessed a certain amount of 
 haeological interest. The old fifteenth century edifice 
 ad on rising ground, encircled by a large walled moat, 
 
 1 full of water. The walls were built of rubble, but 
 y were seven feet thick, and the very plainness of the 
 icture gave an admirable idea of the rough, warrior life 
 feudal times. It was a very quaint chateau, consisting 
 two massive reddish-coloured towers connected by a 
 g building, with true croisees — mullion windows with 
 ne bars in the form of a cross rudely carved like vine 
 ms. The staircase rose outside the chateau in a pen- 
 onal tower set in the middle of the front, and was only 
 i :essible through a narrow door with a pointed arch. 
 
 The ground floor and the first storey had been modern- 
 d in the time of Louis Quatorze, and the huge roof 
 >ve had been pierced with dormer windows, each sur- 
 >unted by a carved tympanum. 
 
 In front of the house spread a great lawn divided in two 
 a paved way through the middle. On either side of 
 j s lawn stood the various stables, cow sheds, and poultry 
 -ds, the bakery, and other outbuildings raised on the 
 ns of the two wings of the feudal castle. The great 
 1 es which grew on the lawn itself had only recently been 
 led. Two little huts in which the gardeners lived stood 
 either side of the bridge over the moat; the iron gate- 
 i ty between them was of feeble design and evidently mod- 
 11. In former times no doubt the chateau had been a 
 1 uare building about a central court, with towers at the 
 ar angles and a massive round arched gateway to defend 
 is drawbridge where the modern iron gateway stood. 
 
 1 1 this had disappeared, but the two massive towers with 
 j eir pepper-box roofs had escaped destruction, and these 
 th the bell turret in the middle formed the principal feat- 
 ! es of the village. The spire of the church, another old 
 ilding only a few paces away, harmonised with the mass 
 1 the castle. 
 
4 ° A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 All the roofs and domes shone out brightly in the fitr 
 gleams of moonlight. Michu was looking down upon t 
 stately house in a way that worked a complete change 
 his wife’s thoughts concerning him; his face was calmc 
 there was hope and a kind of pride in his expression. I 
 looked round the horizon with a certain uneasiness, ai 
 listened to all the sounds over the country-side. It mi 
 have been nine o clock by this time; the moon shone dov 
 upon the edge of the forest, and the knoll was most bright 
 lighted of all. This state of things the bailiff apparent 
 considered to be dangerous, for he came down as thoui 
 he were afraid of being seen. Yet there was not a sour 
 to trouble the stillness in the beautiful valley shut in upc 
 this side by the Forest of Nodesme. 
 
 Marthe, trembling and exhausted, was expecting som: 
 thing to happen after such a ride. For what were h< 
 services required ? For a good deed or a crime ? Mich 
 came up and whispered, c You are to go to the Comtes^ 
 de Cinq-Cygne; ask to speak with her, and when she come 
 ask for a word with her in private. When no one ca 
 overhear you, say, “ Mademoiselle, your cousins are in dar 
 ger of their lives. Some one is waiting for you outside t 
 explain the why and wherefore.” If she seems afraid, i 
 she. cannot trust you, say, “ They are involved in a pk 
 against the First Consul and the plot is discovered.” Don 
 give your name; they suspect us too much.’ 
 
 Marthe Michu raised her face, and looked up at her hus 
 band. 
 
 c Michu, are you doing this for them ? ’ she asked. 
 c Well, and if I am ? ’ asked he, knitting his brow? 
 He took her question for a reproach. 
 
 c You do not understand,’ she said; and suddenly sh 
 fell on her knees before him and took his big hand ii 
 hers, and kissed it and covered it with tears. 
 
 c Make haste ! ’ he said ; c you can cry afterwards ; ’ anc 
 for a moment he held her tightly in his arms. 
 
The Trials of the Police 41 
 
 When the sound of his wife’s footsteps had died away, 
 lere were tears in the eyes of this man of iron. He had 
 istrusted Marthe on account of her father’s opinions; he 
 [ ad kept the secrets of his life from her; and now the 
 eauty of his wife’s simple nature had been suddenly 
 hvealed to him, just as the greatness of his own char¬ 
 ter had dawned upon her. Marthe passed from the 
 'ttermost depths of humiliation — from the woman’s feei¬ 
 ng that she is degraded by the baseness of the man 
 /hose name she bears — to a rapture of glory; passed 
 addenly and without transition. Would it have been 
 wonderful if her strength had failed her? The sharpest 
 ;ar had preyed upon her mind on the way from the 
 )dge to Cinq-Cygne; she had ‘ walked through blood,’ as 
 he told her husband afterwards; and now in a moment 
 he felt herself caught up to heaven among the angels. 
 And he, who felt that he was not appreciated, who took 
 us wife’s melancholy and drooping attitude for want of 
 flection, who had lived out of the house so as to leave 
 er to herself, and centred all his affection upon their 
 ■ hild — he understood in a moment all that her tears 
 leant, and knew that she cursed the part that her fair 
 ice and her father’s will had forced her to play. Out 
 f the midst of the storm the brightest flame of joy had 
 >eapt out for them like a lightning-flash. A lightning- 
 ash indeed ! Each of them thought of those ten years 
 f misunderstanding and took the whole blame of them, 
 /lichu stood motionless, lost in deep musings, resting 
 ne arm on his gun and his chin on his arm. Such 
 
 moment atoned for all the pain of the most painful 
 ■ast. 
 
 i The same thoughts were working in Marthe’s mind, and 
 ! ier heart was heavy at the thought of the danger the Simeuses 
 /ere running ; she understood the whole position, even the 
 1 aces of the two men from Paris, but she could not explain 
 he rifles to herself. She fled like a fawn till she reached 
 
42 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 the roadway, and was startled by the footsteps of a ma; 
 behind her. She cried out; it was Michu’s big hand tha 
 stopped her mouth. 
 
 c Looking out from the top of the knoll, I saw th 
 gleam of the silver rims of gendarmes’ caps,’ he said. c The 
 are some way old'. Go round through the gap in the foss 
 between Mademoiselle’s tower and the stables; the do 
 will not bark at you ; come up the garden and call to th 
 Countess through the window; tell them to saddle Made 
 moiselle’s horse and to bring the animal through the gaf 
 I shall be there. But first I am going to find out whz\ 
 these Parisians mean to do, and how to escape them.’ 
 
 The danger was coming down upon them like an av?j 
 lanche; the necessity of preparing for it gave Marth 
 wings. 
 
 The Frankish name, common to the Cinq-Cygnes an 
 the Chargeboeufs, was DuinefF. The younger branch o 
 the Chargeboeufs took the name in consequence of a defenc 
 of the castle once made by five daughters of the house i 
 the absence of their father. No one expected such con 
 duct of the sisters, all of them famous for their white fail 
 ness. One of the early counts of Champagne gave ther 
 the beautiful name to preserve the memory of the deed s 
 long as the family should live. Since this extraordinar 
 feat of arms the daughters of the house carried their head 
 high, but perhaps not all of them were white as the Swam 
 Laurence, the last of her race, was an exception to th 
 Salic law; she inherited the name, the fief, and the armork 
 bearings ; for the King of France confirmed the charte 
 granted by the Count of Champagne, in virtue of whic, 
 the Cinq-Cygnes’ lands and titles may be handed down fror 
 mother to son. So Laurence was Countess of Cinq-Cygne 
 Her husband must take her name and the arms of her hous 
 and their motto, Mourir en chantant , the heroic answer mad 
 by the eldest of the five sisters when summoned to surrendei 
 — c they would die singing .’ Laurence was a worthy descend 
 
The Trials of the Police 43 
 
 at of those fair heroines; her whiteness seemed like a 
 aallenge to fate. The least outline of the blue veins could 
 e seen beneath the delicate close tissue of skin; and hair 
 f the prettiest shade of gold looked marvellously fair with 
 yes of the darkest blue. Everything about Laurence was 
 ny and delicate. But in spite of her slender shape and 
 er milk-white skin, the soul that dwelt in her fragile body 
 'as tempered like that of a man of the loftiest character; 
 o one, not even an observer, would have guessed this at 
 ght of her gentle expression, her aquiline nose, and a vague 
 lggestion of a sheep’s head about her profile. Her ex- 
 eeding gentleness, high-bred though it was, seemed almost 
 ) amount to lamb-like stupidity. 
 
 c I look like a dreaming sheep,’ she sometimes said of 
 erself, with a smile. 
 
 Laurence, who said so little, appeared to be not so much 
 reamy as torpid. In a grave crisis, the Judith dormant in 
 er nature was revealed at once and grew sublime, and 
 rises unfortunately had not been wanting. 
 
 At the age of thirteen, after the events which you 
 [ready know, Laurence found herself an orphan, in a 
 ouse in Troyes, opposite a heap of ruins which, but the 
 ay before, had been the Hotel Cinq-Cygne — one of the 
 lost curious examples of sixteenth century architecture. 
 1 . d’Hauteserre, a relative, became her guardian, and 
 arried off the heiress to the country, without loss of time, 
 "he Abbe d’Hauteserre, his brother, was shot down as he 
 r as escaping across the square, in peasant’s dress; and 
 lis had frightened the worthy gentleman; he was in no 
 osition to defend his ward’s interests. He had two sons 
 1 the army with the Princes; and every day of his life, at 
 le slightest sound, he fancied that the Arcis authorities 
 ad come to arrest him. The old man bent before the 
 :ormy blast, and Laurence, proud of having stood a siege, 
 roud, too, of the white fairness traditional in her house, 
 >oked down contemptuously upon his prudent cowardice. 
 
44 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 She only thought of adding lustre to her name. So si 
 had the audacity to hang Charlotte Corday’s portrait on tl 
 wall of her poverty-stricken sitting-room, and to crown tl 
 frame with a little wreath of oak leaves. She correspondi 
 with the twins by messenger; the law punished the offen» 
 with death, but she set the law at naught; and the messe; 
 ger brought answers back at the risk of his life. 
 
 Since those tragic days at Troyes, Laurence only live 
 for the Royalist cause. She had formed pretty sound coj 
 elusions as to Madame and Monsieur d’Hauteserre; si 
 saw that they were good but feeble folk; the laws of h 
 sphere did not apply to them. Laurence had too mud 
 sense, she was too genuinely indulgent to bear mali< 
 against the couple for being what they were; she w 
 kind, amiable, affectionate with them, but she never ga^ 
 any of her secrets into their keeping. And nothing so shu 
 up the soul as a life of dissimulation in the family circlj 
 When Laurence came of age, she left the old gentleman i 
 manage her property as before. If her favourite mare w; 
 well groomed, her maid, Catherine, dressed to her tast 
 and her boy-servant, Gothard, properly turned out, si 
 cared little about anything else. She turned her though 
 to so lofty an end that she could not descend to occupi 
 tions which would, no doubt, have been pleasant to h 
 in different times. Laurence cared little for dress, ar 
 besides, her cousins were not there. She wore a bottb 
 green riding-habit, or a walking dress of some chea 
 material, with a sleeveless bodice fastened with loops cl 
 twisted braid; and a loose silk wrapper in the house. I 
 
 Gothard, her little squire, a quick-witted, mettled lad d 
 fifteen, was her escort, for she was almost always out o 
 doors. She shot over the whole Gondreville estate withoi 
 any opposition from the tenants or Michu. She sat h< 
 horse to admiration, and in sport her skill bordered on tl 
 miraculous. The people in the country-side always calle 
 her ‘Mademoiselle’ even during the Revolution. 
 
The Trials of the Police 45 
 
 Anybody who has read that great romance, Rob Roy , 
 jst remember Diana Vernon, for Scott in his conception 
 her character made one of his very rare departures from 
 > ordinary uninteresting feminine types. That recollec- 
 >n may enable the reader to understand Laurence, if he 
 dows the Scottish huntress with the repressed enthusiasm 
 a Charlotte Corday, and takes away the amiable liveli- 
 ss that made Diana so charming. 
 
 Laurence had seen her mother die; she had seen the 
 ;>be d’Hauteserre shot down, and the Marquis and Mar- 
 ise de Simeuse had perished on the scaffold. Her only 
 other had died of his wounds, her cousins serving in the 
 my of Conde might fall at any moment, and, finally, she 
 d seen the lands of the Simeuses and the Cinq-Cygnes 
 'allowed down, nominally by the Republic, while the 
 -public had not benefited thereby. Laurence’s gravity, 
 generating, to all appearance, into stupor, should be 
 nceivable enough. 
 
 M. d’Hauteserre, at all events, proved himself a most 
 >right and intelligent guardian. Under his administration 
 mq-Cygne looked like a farm-house. The old gentleman 
 as as little as possible like a valiant knight-at-arms, and 
 ry much more like an improving landlord. He had 
 rned a couple of hundred acres or so of park and gardens 
 good account; grew all that was wanted for the stables 
 d the servants, and bought no firewood. Thanks to the 
 detest economy, the young Countess recovered a sufficient 
 rtune by the time she came of age. Her surplus income 
 as invested in the Funds. In 1798 the heiress derived 
 1 income of twenty thousand francs from government 
 curities, on which, truth to tell, the interest was over- 
 le, and twelve hundred francs from Cinq-Cygne, for the 
 nt had been notably raised when the lease was renewed. 
 Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre had gone to live in 
 e country on an annuity of three thousand francs in the 
 ontine Lafarge. They could not afford to live anywhere 
 
46 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 else on the scanty remains of their fortune, so they live, 
 on at Cinq-Cygne, and Laurence’s first act on coming o 
 age had been to give them possession of one wing of th 
 house fortheir lifetime. The d’Hauteserres were as penuriou 
 for their ward as they were for themselves. Every yea 
 they put by a thousand crowns for their two sons. Th 
 heiress lived on poor fare. The total annual expenditur, 
 of Cinq-Cygne did not exceed five thousand francs. Bu 
 Laurence never went into details, and felt quite satisfie 
 with everything. And her guardian and his wife uncon 
 sciously fell under the influence of a character which mad 
 itself felt even in the smallest trifles, and ended by admirin 
 the girl whom they had known as a child. A thing the 
 happens seldom enough. But in Laurence’s manner, i 
 her guttural voice, in her imperious glance, there was tha 
 indescribable something, that inexplicable power whic 
 never fails to inspire awe; even when it is only the ap 
 pearance of power; for in a fool vacuity is very easily mi^ 
 taken for depth, as depth is beyond the comprehension o 
 the ordinary mind. For which reasons many people admii 
 anything that they do not understand. 
 
 Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre were impressed by th 
 young Countess’s habit of silence and her untamed ways 
 they were always expecting something great of her. An 
 aristocrat though she was, Laurence had won great respec 
 from the peasants, for her discriminating kindness to then 
 and the fact that she was not to be deceived. Her narru| 
 her sex, her misfortunes, and her unusual life all combine] 
 to give her an ascendancy over the people in the valle> 
 Sometimes she set out, taking Gothard with her, and wr 
 absent all day or even for two days together; yet ne 
 ther Monsieur nor Madame d’Hauteserre asked her wh 
 she had gone away. Laurence (it must be borne in mine 
 had nothing singular about her. The masculine natui 
 was hidden beneath the most feminine and apparently del 
 cate form. She had an extremely tender heart, but ther 
 
The Trials of the Police 47 
 
 as virile resolution and stoical fortitude in her head, 
 er clear-sighted eyes had not learned to shed tears. And 
 3 one could have imagined of that slender white wrist, 
 ith its faint tracery of blue veins, that it could outweary 
 te arm of the most seasoned horseman ; or that her hand, 
 > soft and flexible as it was, could manage a pistol or a 
 •wling-piece with the vigour of a practised sportsman. 
 >ut of doors and on horseback Laurence’s dress differed 
 no way from that of other women; she wore a black 
 indkerchief knotted about her white throat, a coquettish 
 :tle beaver hat and a green veil, so that her complexion, 
 dicate though it was, had never suffered from her long 
 des in the open air. 
 
 Under the Directory and the Consulate, Laurence might 
 ) as she pleased and no one gave her a thought. But 
 hen the Government became more settled, the newly 
 instituted authorities, the Prefect of the Aube, Malin’s 
 iends, and Malin himself, all tried to discredit her. 
 Laurence’s whole mind was engrossed by schemes for 
 ferturning Bonaparte. Bonaparte’s ambition and triumph 
 id wrought a kind of frenzy in her, but it was a frenzy 
 7 a cool and calculating kind. 
 
 In the depths of her valley, in the heart of the forest, 
 ?r eyes were always fixed upon her purpose with a dread- 
 1 fixity of gaze ; she, the unknown, obscure enemy of the 
 an who stood in the full light of glory, thought sometimes 
 7 slaying him in the grounds of Malmaison or St. Cloud, 
 ‘his purpose of hers would be in itself a sufficient explana- 
 Dn of her out-door life and habits; but after the Peace of 
 miens she had been initiated into a conspiracy, a plot set 
 1 foot by men who thought to turn the 18th Brumaire 
 gainst the First Consul. Since that time Laurence had 
 'ought her whole strength and the whole force of hate in 
 iv to bear upon a vast and well-contrived scheme for 
 riking down Bonaparte. This was to be operated from 
 ithout by the mighty coalition of Russia, Prussia, and 
 
48 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 Austria, which as Emperor he defeated at Austerlitz ; an 
 from within by another coalition of men belonging to th 
 most hostile parties now united by a common hate. Man 
 of these, like Laurence, meditated the death of the Fin 
 Consul, and were not afraid of the word assassination. 
 
 At this moment, therefore, a girl, so fragile in appeal 
 ance, so strong for those who really knew her, was a faith 
 ful and sure guide for the nobles who came to and fr 
 between France and Germany to take part in this attacl 
 Fouche was using this co-operation of emigres beyond th 
 Rhine as the basis of his scheme for entangling the Du 
 d’Enghien in the plot; and the presence of that Princ 
 in the territory of Baden, so close to Strasbourg and th 
 frontier, afterwards gave weight to the suspicion. Th 
 great question, whether the Prince really had cognisanc 
 of the plot, and intended to enter France in case of success 
 is one of the secrets on which the Bourbon Princes hav 
 chosen to keep absolute silence. Gradually, as the story o 
 the time becomes ancient history, it will strike the impartk 
 historian that it was imprudent, to say the least of it, in th 
 Prince, to come so near the frontier at a time when a vas 
 conspiracy was just about to break out, especially as th 
 fact was certainly known to the whole royal family. 
 
 In every least thing involving the conspiracy, Mademoi 
 selle de Cinq-Cygne displayed the same prudence whic 
 Malin showed when he brought Grevin into the open ai 
 for his interview. She received emissaries, and conferre 
 with them on the outskirts of the Forest of Nodesme, o 
 at a place between Sezanne and Brienne, beyond the valle 
 of Cinq-Cygne. She often rode between thirty and fort 
 miles at a stretch with Gothard, and came back to Cinq 
 Cygne without the slightest trace of weariness or preoccu 
 pation on her fresh face. When Gothard was nine year 
 old, she had read in his eyes the ingenuous admiration tha 
 children feel for anything extraordinary. She took the littl 
 cowherd for her squire, and taught him to rub down a hors 
 
The Trials of the Police 
 
 49 
 
 carefully and thoroughly as any English groom. Seeing 
 e boy’s willingness, intelligence, and disinterestedness, she 
 ade trial of his devotion, and found not only quick-witted- 
 ss but nobleness of nature in him. He had no thought 
 reward. She set herself to cultivate a nature so young 
 yet. She was kind to him, as a great lady is kind; at- 
 :hing him to herself, by attaching herself to him; polish- 
 y a half-wild character, while leaving it all its sap and 
 nplicity. And then, when she had sufficiently proved 
 e almost dog-like faithfulness that she had nurtured, 
 othard became her ingenious and ingenuous confederate, 
 obody could suspect the little peasant boy; he went 
 /eral times from Cinq-Cygne to Nancy, and nobody 
 ew that he had been from home. 
 
 Gothard practised every shift and stratagem known to 
 ies. The excessive suspicion inculcated by his mistress 
 is by no means foreign to his nature. With a woman’s 
 t, a child’s innocence, and the continual mental alertness 
 a conspirator, he hid these remarkable qualities under a 
 untryman’s torpor and unfathomable ignorance. The 
 de man, to all appearance, was a clumsy, harmless 
 Stic; but put him at his work, he was agile as a fish 
 d slippery as an eel. Like a dog, he could understand a 
 ince, and read thought by instinct. With his round, red, 
 od-natured, homely face, his sleepy, brown eyes, his hair 
 t in the peasant fashion, his childish dress, and his very 
 >w growth, he still looked like a little boy of ten. 
 
 MM. d’Hauteserre and Simeuse, with several other 
 igres, had come by way of Alsace and Lorraine into 
 lampagne, protected by their cousin Laurence, who had 
 itched over them all the way from Strasbourg to Bar-sur- 
 ibe. Another and no less adventurous band of conspira- 
 *s had landed meanwhile under the cliffs of Normandy, 
 le d’Hauteserres and Simeuses, disguised as labourers, had 
 me on foot from forest to forest, guided from place to 
 ice by helpers chosen by Laurence herself. During the 
 
 D 
 
50 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 past three months she had found out the most devot( 
 partisans of the Bourbons among those least liable 
 suspicion. The emigres slept all day and marched 
 night. Each one had brought two devoted soldiers; one c 
 these was sent on ahead, and another left behind to cov 
 the retreat in case of disaster. Thanks to these milita 
 dispositions, the dear detachment had reached the Forest c 1 
 Nodesme, their trysting-place, in safety. Another band ( 
 twenty-seven gentlemen came at the same time by w; 
 of Switzerland and Burgundy, taking similar precaution 
 Altogether M. de Riviere counted upon five hundred me 
 one hundred of them being young nobles, the officers of tl 
 devoted band. 
 
 MM. de Polignac and Riviere, whose behaviour 
 leaders was extremely remarkable, kept the number < 
 their accomplices a profound secret; their names we 
 never known. It may however be said to-day, after t] 
 revelations that were made during the Restoration, th 
 Bonaparte no more suspected the full extent of the ri 
 that he ran in those days, than England imagined the pe 
 with which she was threatened by the camp at Boulogn 
 and yet, at no time was the police system more intelligent 
 and efficiently worked. At the time of the opening of tlj 
 story, one of the poltroons that will always be found 
 every conspiracy which is not confined to a little band c 
 strong spirits, a single conspirator when brought face 
 face with death gave information, luckily insufficient as 
 the extent, but precise enough as to the objects of t 
 attempt. For which reason the police, as Malin had to 
 Grevin, had left the conspirators at liberty while th 
 watched them closely so as to follow up all the ramific 
 tions of the plot. Still the hand of the Government h; 
 been in some sort forced by Georges Cadoudal, an enc 
 getic leader who took counsel with no one but himse 
 and lay in hiding in Paris with twenty-five Chouans, reai 
 to attack the First Consul. 
 
The Trials of the Police 51 
 
 Love and hate were blended in Laurence’s thoughts. 
 0 make an end of Bonaparte, and to bring back the 
 )urbons, — what was this but to regain Gondreville and 
 make her cousins’ fortune ? Those two opposite feel- 
 ys are sufficient to bring out all the powers of the soul 
 d all the forces of life, especially at the age of three and 
 enty. Never before had Laurence looked so beautiful 
 the folk at Cinq-Cygne as she had done of late during 
 e past two months. There was a red colour in her 
 eeks; hope, at some moments, lent pride to her brows; 
 d when the Gazette was read aloud of an evening, and 
 ey heard the First Consul’s conservative policy therein 
 t forth, she would lower her eyes lest any one should 
 
 2 her conviction that the fall of Bonaparte was at hand. 
 Nobody at the chateau suspected, therefore, that the 
 )untess had seen her cousins on the previous night. Mon- 
 ur and Madame d’Hauteserre’s two sons had slept in the 
 mntess’s own room, beneath the same roof with their 
 :her and mother; for Laurence, by way of precaution, 
 mitted the two d’Hauteserres between one and two in 
 
 3 morning, and went to join her cousins the Simeuses in 
 2 forest, where they lay hidden in a deserted woodman’s 
 t. She felt so sure of meeting them again, that she 
 Dwed not the slightest sign of joy, nor was there a trace 
 
 excitement or suspense in her manner; in short, she 
 d contrived to efface the expression of the pleasure she 
 d felt. She was quite impassive. Catherine, her foster- 
 )ther’s pretty daughter, and Gothard were both in the 
 'ret, and followed their mistress’s example. Catherine 
 •s nineteen years old. A girl of nineteen, like Gothard, 
 fanatical in her devotion ; she will not utter a word with 
 ' knife at her throat. And as for Gothard, the rack 
 •uld not have drawn a syllable from him, after a breath 
 the scent that clung about the Countess’s dress and 
 hr. 
 
 While Marthe was gliding along like a shadow towards 
 
52 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 the gap of which Michu spoke when he warned her th; 
 danger was nigh at hand, the scene in the drawing-room ; 
 Cinq-Cygne was as peaceful as could be. The family wei 
 so far from suspecting that a storm was about to burst, th; 
 any one who had known their true position must have fe 
 sorry for them. A fire was blazing on the great heart 
 beneath the pier-glass on the wall where the shepherdess* 
 in paniers were dancing — such a fire as you only see i 
 chateaux in a wooded country. j And, by the fireside, i 
 a great, square, gilded chair, covered with handsome sil 
 damask, lay the young Countess, stretched at full lengtl 
 as it were, in complete exhaustion. She had only come i 
 at six o’clock, after riding as far as the Brie district, ac 
 ing as scout till she saw her four nobles safely to tf 
 lair whence they were to make the final stage to Pari 
 Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre had almost finishe 
 dinner when she came in; so, famished as she was, she s; 
 down to table in her mud-stained riding-habit and thic 
 shoes, and when dinner was over she felt too tired I 
 change her dress after all the day’s fatigue. Her beautifi 
 head, with its thick, bright curls, was resting on the bac 
 of her large, low chair; her feet were stretched out on 
 footstool, the splashes of mud on her shoes and habit we] 
 slowly drying in the warmth of the fire. Her hat ar 
 gloves and riding-whip lay on the console table, where sf 
 had thrown them down. 
 
 Now again she glanced up at the Boule clock betwee 
 the two flowery branched candlesticks on the mantle shel 
 and wondered whether the conspirators were in bed by th 
 time; then again she looked at the card-table drawn up t 
 the fire; Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre were playin 
 their game of boston with the cure of Cinq-Cygne and h: 
 sister. 
 
 Even if these personages had not been embedded in th 
 course of the story their portraits would still have thi 
 merit, — they give an idea of one of the positions taken u 
 
The Trials of the Police 53 
 
 r the aristocracy after their defeat in 1793. From this 
 )int of view, a description of the inmates of the drawing- 
 om at Cinq-Cygne, may be regarded as history in dressing- 
 iwn and slippers. 
 
 M. d’Hauteserre, a tall, spare, sanguine man, aged 
 ty-two, enjoyed robust health, and might have seemed 
 pable of vigorous action if it had not been for the 
 cessively simple expression of his big, china-blue eyes, 
 n altogether disproportionate space between the mouth 
 d nose in a countenance terminated by a long, peaked 
 in, gave to that gentleman an appearance of meekness 
 rfectly in accordance with his character, and every little 
 tail of his appearance bore out this impression. His grey 
 ir, for instance, felted by the pressure of the hat that he 
 ore almost the whole day long, looked something like a 
 ullcap, completing the outline of a pear-shaped head, 
 is forehead, deeply wrinkled by an out-of-door life and 
 ntinual anxiety, was vacant and expressionless. A hooked 
 >se lent a certain amount of contrast to his face; but the 
 ly signs of force of character about him were to be found 
 the bushy eyebrows, still black as ever, and a high- 
 loured complexion. Nor was this a misleading trait; 
 e country gentleman, simple and mild-tempered though 
 was, held to his monarchical and religious creeds, and 
 •thing would have induced him to change either the one 
 the other. If he had been arrested, the good, easy man 
 xild have made no resistance; he would not have fired 
 the representatives of the authority; he would have 
 )tted off quite meekly to the scaffold. He would have 
 migrated 9 if his whole income had not consisted of an 
 nuity of three thousand livres ; but as it was, he submitted 
 the government de facto , without faltering in his attach- 
 tnt to the royal family. He wished to see the Bourbons 
 ce more upon the throne, but he would have refused to 
 mpromise himself by taking part in any attempt to bring 
 sm back again. 
 
54 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 M. d’Hauteserre belonged to that section of the Roy 
 alist party which could never forget that it had been beate 
 and robbed, and thenceforth remained mute, frugal, rancoi 
 ous, and inert. Incapable alike of forswearing their prir 
 ciples or of making any sacrifice for them ; perfectly read 
 to hail triumphant royalty; friends of priests and religioi 
 they made up their minds to endure all the buffets of ac 
 verse fortune. These folk cannot be said to hold opinion:! 
 they are merely obdurate. Action is the sine qua non o 
 a political party. M. d’Hauteserre, loyal but unintell 
 gent, close-fisted as a peasant, yet lofty in his manners 
 bold in his wishes, yet discreet in words and actions, turr 
 ing everything to account and quite ready to act as mayc 
 of Cinq-Cygne, was an admirable specimen of his clas: 
 He was one of those honourable country gentlemen upo 
 whose foreheads God has legibly written the word c mite ’ 
 these stayed in their manor-houses while the storms of th 
 Revolution passed over their heads, emerging under th 
 Restoration rich with hoarded savings and proud of the: 
 non-committal attachment, only to return to their estate 
 in 1830. 
 
 M. d’Hauteserre’s costume was the expressive husk o 
 his character; his dress portrayed the man and the time i 
 which he lived. He wore the nut-brown greatcoat, wit 
 a narrow collar, brought into fashion by the last Duke o 
 Orleans after his return from England; a kind of com 
 promise between the hideous popular costume and th 
 graceful overcoats worn by the aristocracy. A velv^ 
 waistcoat with flowered stripes, something after the patter 
 familiarised by Robespierre and Saint Just, was cut lo\ 
 enough to display the beginnings of a little plaited shin 
 frill. He had not discarded the old-fashioned small-clothes 
 but they were made of coarse blue cloth fastened wit 
 steel buckles. Black silk stockings clung to the outline 1 
 of a pair of stag’s legs, and his heavy shoes were kept iJ 
 place by black cloth gaiters. His throat was enveloped b 
 
The Trials of the Police 55 
 
 e multitudinous folds of a muslin stock, fastened by a 
 >ld buckle. The good man by no means aimed at express- 
 g his political eclecticism in a costume in which peasant, 
 volutionary, and aristocrat were nicely blended; he had 
 lite innocently bowed to circumstances. 
 
 Madame d’Hauteserre was a woman of forty, aged 
 r emotion; with a faded face that seemed always to be 
 )sed for a portrait; a lace cap adorned with upstanding 
 tin bows contributed not a little to the solemnity of her 
 jr. She still wore powder in spite of her dress of a 
 ter period; a white kerchief, and a puce-coloured silk 
 >wn with tight sleeves and a very full skirt, the last sober 
 >stume worn by Marie Antoinette. Her nose was 
 nched, her chin pointed, her face almost triangular, but 
 ie continued to put on the “ suspicion ” of rouge which 
 nt brightness to the eyes that had shed so many tears, 
 nd she took snuff, omitting none of those little dainty 
 ecautions which the fine ladies of a previous age carried 
 the point of affectation ; a host of small observances 
 most amounting to a rite, and all explained by a few 
 ords — Madame d’Hauteserre had pretty hands, 
 j A Minorite abbe, Goujet by name, a friend of the late 
 bbe d’Hauteserre and tutor of the two Simeuses, had taken 
 ie cure of Cinq-Cygne for his retreat for the past two 
 iars, out of friendship for the d’Hauteserres and the young 
 ountess. Mademoiselle Goujet, his sister, rich to the 
 ctent of seven hundred francs per annum, united her 
 come to the cure’s slender stipend, and kept house for 
 >r brother. Neither the church nor the parsonage had 
 ien sold because they were worth so little. So the Abbe 
 roujet lodged close by the chateau, for the parsonage 
 irden lay on the other side of the park wall. Twice a 
 ! eek, he and his sister dined at the chateau, and every 
 ^ening they came for a game of cards with the d’Haute- 
 :rres. Laurence did not know a single game. 
 
 1 The Abbe Goujet had a pleasant smile and a gentle, 
 
56 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 winning voice. His hair was white; his face, too, wa 
 white as an old woman’s ; an intelligent forehead and a pai 
 of very keen eyes redeemed his almost doll-like counts 
 nance from insipidity. A well-made man of average height 
 he continued to wear the Frenchman’s black coat, silve 
 buckles at his knees and on his shoes, black silk stockings 
 and a black waistcoat with white bands, which gave him i 
 certain grand air, while it took nothing from his dignity. 
 
 The Abbe (he became Bishop of Troyes after th 
 Restoration) had gained a considerable insight into th 
 characters of young people in the course of his former life 
 he had divined Laurence’s greatness; he fully appreciate 
 her, and from the first treated the young girl with a re 
 spectful deference which contributed not a little to give he 
 an independent position at Cinq-Cygne; the austere ol< 
 lady and the good gentleman gave way to Laurence, instead 
 of requiring obedience of her in the usual fashion. Fo 
 the past six months the Abbe Goujet had been watchinj 
 Laurence with that genius of observation peculiar to priests 
 the most perspicacious of all human beings. He did no 
 know that this girl of three and twenty was thinking of de 
 throning Bonaparte, while her fragile fingers were twistin- 
 the loops of braid on her riding-habit; still he thought tha 
 some great purpose was fermenting in her mind. 
 
 Mademoiselle Goujet was a spinster whose portrait cat 
 be given in two words which will call up her image befor 
 the least imaginative mind. She was a woman of the big 
 gawky type. She knew she was ugly. She was the firs: 
 to laugh at her ugliness, showing as she laughed a set ol 
 long teeth as yellow as her complexion and her bony hands 
 Mademoiselle Goujet was unfailingly cheerful and kind 
 She wore the well-known old-fashioned jacket, very full 
 skirts, a pocket always full of keys, a cap trimmed witl 
 ribbons, and a false front. She looked like a woman oii 
 forty long before she reached that age, but she made up fo 
 it, as she said, by looking very much the same for twent; 
 
The Trials of the Police 57 
 
 ears together. Mademoiselle Goujet had a great venera- 
 on for the noblesse; she knew how to preserve her own 
 ignity while rendering to noble birth its dues of respect 
 nd homage. 
 
 Their society was very welcome to Madame d’Hauteserre; 
 nlike her husband, she had no out-of-door occupations, 
 or had she, like Laurence, a strong hatred to brace her to 
 le endurance of a lonely existence. Life had grown in 
 f )me sort bearable during the past six years. The Catho- 
 c Church had been re-established; there were religious 
 uties to be fulfilled (and these vibrate through life in the 
 ountry as they never do anywhere else). The First Con- 
 iFs conservative action reassured Monsieur and Madame 
 ’Hauteserre; latterly they had been able to correspond 
 fith their sons, they had news of them in return. They 
 eed no longer tremble for their children, and begged them 
 ) make application to be erased from the List of emigres 
 nd to come back to France. The Treasury had cleared 
 If arrears and punctually continued to pay dividends quarter 
 y quarter, so that the d’Hauteserres had rather more than 
 aeir annuity of eight thousand francs. Old M. d’Hauteserre 
 pplauded his own sagacity and foresight. His savings for his 
 fard, together with his own (some twenty thousand francs) 
 ad been invested in the Funds before the 18th Brumaire 
 snt them up, as all the world knows, from twelve to 
 ighteen francs. 
 
 For years Cinq-Cygne remained bare, empty, and deso- 
 ite, M. d’Hauteserre having prudently determined to make 
 o changes so long as the Revolutionary commotion lasted; 
 ut after the Peace of Amiens he went to Troyes to buy 
 ack some relics of the sack of the two mansions, from 
 econd-hand furniture dealers. Thanks to his pains, the 
 i rawing-room had been furnished. The six windows were 
 domed with handsome curtains of white silk damask with 
 j green flower-pattern, which once hung in the Hotel 
 imeuse. The whole great room had been newly wain- 
 
58 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 scoted with panels, each one framed in strips of beading 
 with masks by way of ornament at the corners, and the 
 whole was painted in two shades of grey. Various sub¬ 
 jects, in the grey cameo style in fashion under Louis XV. 
 covered the frieze panels above the four doors; and the 
 good man had found gilded console tables at Troyes, as 
 well as a suite of furniture in green silk damask, a crystal 
 chandelier, an inlaid card-table, and everything that might 
 serve to restore Cinq-Cygne. 
 
 All the furniture of the chateau had been plundered in 
 1792, for the sack of the town houses was followed by 
 a sack in the valley. Every time that M. d’Hauteserrq 
 went to Troyes, he came back again with some few relics 
 of ancient splendour; sometimes it was a handsome car¬ 
 pet, like the one which covered the drawing-room floor; 
 sometimes it was a piece of plate, or old Dresden oq 
 Sevres china. Six months ago he had ventured to dig up 
 the Cinq-Cygne silver plate, which the cook had buried 
 in a little house belonging to him, at the end of one of 
 the straggling suburbs of Troyes. 
 
 This faithful servant, Durieu by name, and his wife, 
 had always followed their young mistress’s fortunes. Du¬ 
 rieu was the man-of-all-work at the chateau, and his wife 
 was housekeeper. Catherine’s sister was kitchen-maid, 
 and, under Durieu’s training, was in a fair way to be an 
 excellent cook. An old gardener and his wife, their son, 
 a day labourer, and their daughter, the dairymaid, com¬ 
 pleted the staff of servants at the chateau. Six months 
 since, La Durieu had secretly made a livery in the Cinq- 
 Cygne colours for Gothard and the gardener’s son, a piece 
 of imprudence for which the old gentleman scolded her 
 soundly; but she could not refuse herself the pleasure 
 of having dinner served almost as it used to be in old 
 times at the feast of St. Laurence, Mademoiselle’s patron; 
 saint. As for Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre and 
 the Durieus, this slow, difficult progress of restoration was; 
 
The Trials of the Police 59 
 
 iie joy of their lives, though Laurence used to smile at 
 fhat she called childishness. But old M. d’Hauteserre 
 30k no less thought for substantial matters; he repaired 
 uildings, reconstructed walls, put in a tree wherever there 
 /as a chance for it to grow, and made every inch of 
 round yield a return. Wherefore the valley of Cinq- 
 Oygne regarded him as an oracle in matters pertaining to 
 griculture. He contrived to recover a hundred acres of 
 and contested but not sold, and confounded with the com- 
 non land by the commune. These he turned into arti¬ 
 ficial pastures for the cattle of the chateau, planting the 
 neadows round with poplar trees, which had sprung up to 
 dmiration in six years. He purposed to buy back more 
 and by and by, and to turn the buildings at the chateau 
 o account on a second farm which he meant to manage 
 limself. 
 
 So for the last two years, life had grown almost happy at 
 Cinq-Cygne. M. d’Hauteserre was up and out at sunrise, 
 ooking after his men, for he was an employer of labour all 
 :hrough those times. He came in to breakfast, and after¬ 
 wards made his rounds like any keeper on a farmer s nag; 
 "hen returning to dinner, he finished off* his day with 
 Doston. Every one at the chateau had his or her occupa¬ 
 tions ; life in a convent was not more regular. Laurence 
 was the only person who brought disturbance into it by 
 her sudden journeys and absences from home; her c flights,’ 
 as Madame d’Hauteserre called them. Nevertheless there 
 were two parties at Cinq-Cygne, and causes of dissension, 
 jr In the first place, Durieu and his wife were jealous of 
 Gothard and Catherine who lived in greater intimacy with 
 their young mistress, the idol of the household. Then the 
 d’Hauteserres, supported by Mademoiselle Goujet and her 
 brother, were anxious that their sons and the Simeuses like¬ 
 wise should return to share the happiness of this peaceful 
 life, instead of living in discomfort abroad. Laurence 
 denounced this compromise as infamous. She represented 
 
60 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 pure, implacable, militant Royalism. The four old people 
 had no wish to see prospects of a happy existence any 
 longer in jeopardy, nor to risk the loss of the little nook of 
 land won back from the torrent deluge of the Revolution. 
 They tried to convert Laurence to their truly prudent 
 doctrines, for they saw that her influence counted for 2 
 good deal in the opposition made by the emigres to all pro¬ 
 posals for a return to France. The guardians, poor things, 
 were frightened by their ward’s superb disdain. The\ 
 were afraid that she was meditating some rash deed, and 
 they were not mistaken. 
 
 This difference of opinion in the family had flashed 
 suddenly out after the explosion of the infernal machine in 
 the Rue Saint Nicaise, the first Royalist attempt upon the 
 life of the conqueror of Marengo, after his refusal to treat! 
 with the House of Bourbon. The d’Hauteserres thought 
 it a fortunate thing that Bonaparte had escaped the danger, 
 quite believing that Republicans were the authors of the 
 outrage. Laurence shed angry tears because the First 
 Consul was saved. Her despair got the better of her habit 
 of dissimulation; she accused God of betraying the son of 
 St. Louis. 
 
 i Ah ! ’ she cried, c 7 would have succeeded ! ’ Then 
 seeing the unutterable amazement in their faces, she turned 
 to the Abbe Goujet. c Have we not a right to make use 
 of all possible means against a usurper ? ’ 
 
 c The Church has been impugned and severely blamed 
 by the philosophies, my child, because in former times she 
 held that it was justifiable to turn a usurper’s weapons 
 against himself; and in these days the Church owes sc 
 much to M. le Premier Consul that she cannot but protect 
 and guarantee him from the consequences of a maxim, 
 due moreover to the Jesuits.’ 
 
 c So the Church forsakes us ! ’ she had answered, with 2 
 dark expression in her face. 
 
 From that day, whenever the four old people began tc 
 
6i 
 
 The Trials of the Police 
 
 alk of submission to Providence, the young Countess left 
 he room. And for some time past the cure (more adroit 
 han the guardian) had ceased to discuss principles, and 
 welt on the material advantages offered by the consular 
 overnment; not so much with a view to converting the 
 Countess, as to try to gain light upon her projects by 
 matching the expression of her eyes at unguarded 
 noments. 
 
 Laurence rode abroad more than ever. Gothard’s fre- 
 [uent absences from home, Laurence’s preoccupation, which 
 n these last days rose to the surface and appeared on her 
 ace, a whole host of little things in short, which could 
 lot escape observation in the quiet, peaceful life at Cinq- 
 ;Oygne, and certainly did not escape the anxious eyes of the 
 l’Hauteserres, the Abbe Goujet, and the Durieus, — all this 
 twakened the fears of Royalist resignation. But nothing 
 eemed to come of it; the most perfect serenity prevailed in 
 he political atmosphere for some days, and the little house- 
 lold in the chateau settled down into peace as before. Every- 
 >ody thought that the Countess’s passion for sport accounted 
 'or her wanderings. 
 
 It is not difficult to imagine the deep silence that prevailed 
 n the park and the courtyards and all about the chateau of 
 Cinq-Cygne at nine o’clock at night. Everything and every 
 )ne was so harmoniously coloured, a deep peace brooded over 
 he household, plenty had returned, and the good and prudent 
 :ountry gentleman had hopes of converting his ward to his 
 heories of submission by a continuance of happy results. 
 They were sitting over their boston, which game of cards 
 vas first invented in honour of the revolted American 
 :olonies; all the terms used in it recalled the struggle 
 encouraged by Louis XVI, and the idea of independence 
 became familiar to Frenchmen in this frivolous manner. 
 But while the players scored their c independences ’ and 
 • miseres,’ they were watching Laurence. 
 
 Drowsiness soon overcame her; she fell asleep with an 
 
62 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 ironical smile hovering on her lips. Her last conscious 
 thought had been of the party seated so quietly at the card- 
 table, when two words from her, telling the d’Hauteserre! 
 that their son had spent the previous night beneath theii 
 roof, would have struck the deepest consternation into al 
 four of them. What girl of three and twenty would no- 
 have felt, as Laurence felt, proud to shape fate, and sharec 
 the faint stirrings of compassion which she felt for those sc 
 far beneath her ? 
 
 c She is asleep,’ said the abbe. ‘ I have never seen he 
 look so tired.’ 
 
 ‘Durieu said that the mare was almost foundered, 
 remarked Madame d’Hauteserre; ‘her gun had not beer 
 used. The cartridge chamber was clean; so she has no 
 been out shooting.’ 
 
 ‘Fiddle-de-dee!’ returned the cure, ‘that amounts tc 
 nothing.’ 
 
 ‘Pooh ! ’ cried Mademoiselle Goujet, ‘when I was three 
 and twenty and saw that I was doomed to be an old maid 
 I ran about and tired myself very much more. I can under 
 stand that the Countess may go about the country withou 
 any notion of shooting game. She has not set eyes on he 
 cousins for twelve years ; she is fond of them, very good 
 in her place, now, if I were young and pretty, I should gc 
 straight into Germany. And perhaps she feels attracted tc 
 the frontier, poor, dear child.’ 
 
 ‘ Mademoiselle Goujet, you are improper,’ said the cun! 
 smiling. 
 
 ‘ Why, you are fidgeting over the goings and comings oil 
 a girl of three and twenty, and I explain it,’ said she. 
 
 ‘ Her cousins will come back. She will be rich, and she 
 will settle down in the end,’ old d’Hauteserre added. 
 
 ‘God send she may!’ cried old Madame d’Hauteserre 
 bringing out her gold snuff-box. (It had seen the ligh 
 since Bonaparte became Consul for life.) 
 
 ‘ There is news in the country-side,’ continued ok 
 
The Trials of the Police 63 
 
 ’Hauteserre, addressing the cure. c Malin came down to 
 iondreville yesterday evening . 5 
 
 ‘ Malin ? 5 exclaimed Laurence, awakened by the name, 
 
 1 spite of her profound slumber. 
 
 ‘ Yes , 5 said the cure, c but he is going back again to-night, 
 nd people are lost in conjecture over his sudden journey . 5 
 
 <• That man is the evil genius of our two houses , 5 said 
 ^aurence. 
 
 She had been dreaming about her cousins and the 
 ’Hauteserres, and danger had threatened them in her 
 ream. Her beautiful eyes grew wan as she stared before 
 her and thought of the perils that they must encounter in 
 >aris. She rose abruptly and went up to her room, the 
 j hamber of honour, with a dressing-room and an oratory 
 ituated in the tower nearest the forest. 
 
 Soon after Laurence left the drawing-room the dogs be- 
 ran to bark, somebody rang the bell at the gate, and Durieu 
 :ame in consternation to announce, c Here comes the 
 nayor ! This is something fresh ! 5 
 
 The mayor, one Goulard, had once been one of the late 
 Marquis de Simeuse’s huntsmen. He used to come occa¬ 
 sionally to Cinq-Cygne, and the d’Hauteserres considered 
 t politic to treat him with a deference which the man val- 
 led highly. He had married a wealthy tradeswoman from 
 Troyes ; his wife’s property lay in the commune of Cinq- 
 3 ygne, and he himself had added to it by investing all his 
 savings in the lands of a rich abbey. He and his wife lived 
 ike two rats in a cathedral, at the great Abbey of Val-des- 
 Preux, about half a mile away, a great place almost as stately 
 is Gondreville. 
 
 c Goulard, you have been a glutton ! ’ Mademoiselle said 
 aughing, when she first saw him at the chateau. 
 
 The mayor was warmly attached to the Revolution, and 
 the Countess received him coldly ; but he always felt bound 
 by the ties of respect to the Cinq-Cygnes and the Simeuses, 
 and for this reason he shut his eyes to much that went on 
 
64 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 there. He was blind to the portraits of Louis XVI, 
 Marie Antoinette, the Children of France, Monsieur the 
 Comte d’Artois, de Cazales, and Charlotte Corday, which 
 adorned the panels of the drawing-room ; and deaf to wishes 
 for the downfall of the Republic, or to scoffing at the expense 
 of the Five Directors and other political arrangements of 
 those days; and this he called shutting his eyes/ Like! 
 many other upstarts, he recovered his belief in the old fam¬ 
 ilies as soon as his fortune was made; he wanted to con¬ 
 nect himself with them, and this position of affairs had just 
 been exploited by the two personages whom Michu had so 
 promptly recognised as spies. Corentin and Peyrade had 
 made a survey of the district before they went to Gondre¬ 
 ville. 
 
 The worthy described as the depositary of the best tra¬ 
 ditions of the old police, and Corentin, phoenix of spies, 
 were in fact employed on a secret mission. Malin was 
 not mistaken when he assigned a double part to that pail 
 of artists in tragic farce. They were arms under thej 
 direction of a head which should perhaps be revealed before 
 they are seen at their work. 
 
 When Bonaparte became First Consul, Fouche was the 
 director-general of police. The Revolution had frankl} 
 and with reason made a special department of this branch 
 of the service, but when Bonaparte came back after Ma¬ 
 rengo, he created a prefecture of police, installed Dubois as 
 prefect, summoned Fouche to the Council of State, anc 
 nominated Cochon (of the Convention, afterwards Comte 
 de Lapparent) as Fouche’s successor. Fouche regardec 
 the office of Minister of Police as the most important of 
 all in a government which took large views, and followec 
 a definite political programme; he therefore took the 
 change as a disgrace, or, at any rate, as a sign of distrust 
 Then came the affair of the infernal machine and the plo 
 which forms the subject of this history; and Napoleon recog¬ 
 nised the fact that no man could be compared with Foucht 
 
The Trials of the Police 65 
 
 n fitness for his office. Yet, later, the Emperor took 
 alarm at the talents which Fouche displayed in his absence. 
 After the Walcheren affair he made the Duke of Rovigo 
 bis Minister of Police, and appointed the Duke of Otranto 
 to be Governor of the Illyrian Provinces, which practically 
 meant that he sent him into exile. 
 
 Fouche’s extraordinary genius, which struck a kind of 
 dread into Napoleon, did not become apparent all at once. 
 An obscure member of the Convention, one of the most 
 remarkable and misjudged men of the time, he was formed 
 in tempests. Under the Directory he reached an elevation 
 whence profound natures can see the future by judging the 
 past, and then quite suddenly, as a mediocre actor some¬ 
 times attains excellence with a flash of inspiration, he gave 
 proofs of his skill during the rapid revolution of the 18th 
 Brumaire. Slowly and silently this pale-faced creature — 
 trained in monastic dissimulation, deep in the confidence of 
 the Jacobin party, to which he belonged, and possessed of 
 the secrets of the Royalists, to whom he went over at the 
 last — had studied men and affairs and the interests at stake 
 in the political arena. He divined Bonaparte’s secret wishes 
 and intentions, and gave him useful advice and valuable in¬ 
 formation. He had shown himself to be a man of resource, 
 and useful to the government; and he was satisfied to do no 
 more. He had no mind to make a complete revelation of 
 himself; he meant to remain at the head of affairs; and 
 Napoleon’s uncertainty with regard to him gave him a free 
 hand in politics. The Emperor’s ingratitude, or, to be 
 more accurate, his suspicion, after the Walcheren affair, 
 throws a new light on the character of the man; un¬ 
 fortunately for himself he was no grand seigneur , and he 
 modelled his conduct upon that of the Prince de Talleyrand. 
 
 At this particular moment, not one of his former or pres¬ 
 ent colleagues suspected the extent of his genius, a purely 
 administrative, essentially departmental genius, accurate in all 
 forecasts, and sagacious beyond belief. Any impartial his- 
 
 E 
 
66 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 torian must see, at this distance of time, that Napoleon’s 
 prodigious egoism was one of the many causes which 
 brought about Jiis downfall, a cruel expiation of his errors. 
 In that suspicious sovereign, there was a certain jealousy 
 of his new-born power, a jealousy which influenced all his 
 actions at least as strongly as his private dislike of that 
 group of able men (a valuable legacy left him by the Revo¬ 
 lution) of whom he might have formed a cabinet to be the 
 depositary of his thoughts. Others, beside Talleyrand andi 
 Fouche, aroused his suspicions. It is the misfortune of a 
 usurper that he is bound to have two separate sets of enemies, 
 those who gave him his crown, and those from whom he 
 took it. Napoleon never wholly won sovereignty over thd 
 men who had been at first his superiors and afterwards hi< 
 equals; nor, again, over sticklers for the rightful succes¬ 
 sion. Nobody felt that the oath of allegiance was binding. 
 
 Malin was a mediocrity; he was quite incapable of 
 appreciating Fouche’s dark genius; he did not distrusij 
 that quick comprehensive glance. So he singed himself) 
 like a moth in the candle flame. He went to Fouche tq 
 ask him in confidence to send some agents of police tc 
 Gondreville. He had hopes, he said, of throwing a ligh 
 on the plot. Fouche was very careful not to startle hi* 
 friend by putting any question to him, but he asked himself 
 why Malin was going to Gondreville, and how it was tha 
 he did not communicate any information that he happenec 
 to have at once in Paris. The ex-oratorian, nurtured ir 
 dissimulation, and well aware that many members of the 
 Convention were playing a double part, said to himself: — 
 
 ‘ How comes it that Malin knows something, when w* 
 as yet know next to nothing ?’ 
 
 Naturally Fouche concluded that Malin was either impli 
 cated already or had designs of his own; but he was ven 
 careful to say nothing to the First Consul. He preferred 
 not to ruin Malin, but to make a tool of him. This waj 
 Fouche’s way. Most of the secrets that he discovered h 
 
The Trials of the Police 
 
 67 
 
 :ept to himself; he husbanded his power over people, 
 md his power was even greater than Bonaparte’s. This 
 iuplicity was one of Napoleon’s grievances against his 
 Minister. 
 
 Fouche knew that Malin had gained his estate at Gondre^ 
 dlle by rascality ; he knew, too, that Malin was obliged to 
 ceep on the watch for the Simeuses. The Simeuses were 
 ;erving in the Army of Conde, and Mademoiselle de Cinq- 
 2ygne was their cousin. They might very likely be some¬ 
 where in the neighbourhood; possibly, also, they were 
 nvolved in the plot; and, if this were so, the House of 
 ^onde, to which they were devoted, was certainly likewise 
 nvolved. Altogether, M. de Talleyrand and Fouche held 
 t important to gain light upon this very obscure corner of 
 :he conspiracy of 1803. 
 
 All these considerations Fouche saw with swift lucidity 
 }f comprehension. But the relation in which Malin and 
 Talleyrand stood to one another obliged him to proceed 
 with the utmost circumspection, and therefore he wished 
 to have the most complete information as to the interior 
 tof the chateau of Gondreville. Corentin was wholly in 
 Fouche’s interest, just as M. de la Besnardiere was at¬ 
 tached to Talleyrand, Gentz to Metternich, Dundas to Pitt, 
 Duroc to Napoleon, or Chavigny to Cardinal Richelieu. 
 And Corentin was not merely Fouche’s adviser, he was his 
 ' familiar, his ame damnee , a Tristan in secret to a Louis XI 
 ton a small scale. It was therefore material that Fouche 
 should leave him in the police department, so as to have 
 i an eye and a hand there. People said that the young fellow 
 was related in some way to Fouche; that he was one 
 of those connections which are never acknowledged; for 
 ■ Corentin’s services were always lavishly rewarded. Cor¬ 
 entin had made a friend of Peyrade, a pupil trained by the 
 last of the lieutenants of police; still he had secrets even 
 from Peyrade. Fouche’s orders to Corentin had been to 
 explore the chateau at Gondreville, to have the whole place 
 
68 A Gondreville Mystery- 
 
 mapped out in his memory, and to discover every possible 
 hiding-place. 
 
 ‘We may perhaps be obliged to go there again,’ he had 
 said, exactly as Napoleon told his lieutenants to make a 
 careful survey of the field of Austerlitz, on which he ex¬ 
 pected to fall back. 
 
 It was Corentin’s task, besides, to make a study of 
 Malin’s behaviour. He was to ascertain the man’s in¬ 
 fluence in the district and to notice the kind of men in his 
 employ. Fouche felt quite certain that the Simeuses were 
 somewhere in the neighbourhood, and by playing the spy 
 discreetly upon two officers in high favour with Conde, 
 Peyrade and Corentin might gain invaluable light upon 
 the ramifications of the plot beyond the Rhine. In any 
 case, Corentin had money, authority, and men sufficient 
 to surround Cinq-Cygne and to put the whole district 
 between the Forest of Nodesme and Paris, under the 
 surveillance of a spy system. Fouche’s injunction, how¬ 
 ever, was to proceed with the greatest caution ; they were 
 not to make the domiciliary visit to Cinq-Cygne unless 
 Malin himself gave them positive information. Finally, as 
 a part of his instructions Fouche had given Corentin an 
 account of the inexplicable personality of this Malin whom 
 he had watched for three years. Corentin’s thought was 
 in his chiefs mind at the same time. 
 
 1 Malin knows about this conspiracy! . . . But who 
 knows whether Fouche is not in it too ? ’ he added within 
 himself. 
 
 Corentin set out for Troyes before Malin started; came 
 to an understanding with the commandant of gendarmerie; 
 chose out the most intelligent of the men and a keen¬ 
 witted captain for their leader. To this captain, Corentin 
 gave orders to divide his men in four groups of a dozen,! 
 and to post them after nightfall at four different points in 
 the valley of Cinq-Cygne. These groups, on picket duty, 
 were to be placed sufficiently far apart, for fear of giving 
 
The Trials of the Police 69 
 
 the alarm, and gradually to close in till they formed a 
 square about the chateau. 
 
 When Malin went out for his conference with Grevin, 
 he gave Corentin an opportunity of fulfilling one part of 
 his mission. And when the State Councillor came back 
 from his interview in the park, he stated so positively that 
 the Simeuses and the d’Hauteserres were actually in the 
 neighbourhood, that Corentin and Peyrade despatched 
 their captain on his errand. Very luckily for the gentle¬ 
 men in hiding, the gendarmes went through the forest, by 
 way of the avenue, while Michu was plying Violette the 
 spy with drink. 
 
 Malin had begun by telling Peyrade and Corentin about 
 the trap from which he had just escaped. The two men 
 from Paris, thereupon, related the incident of the rifle. 
 Grevin sent Violette down to the lodge to see what was 
 going on, and Corentin asked the notary to take his friend 
 to spend the night under his roof in the little town of Arcis, 
 for greater security. So it happened that while Michu was 
 galloping across the forest to Cinq-Cygne, Peyrade and 
 Corentin started out from Gondreville in a shabby basket- 
 chaise drawn by a post-horse, and the man who drove them 
 was the constable of gendarmerie from Arcis, one of the 
 smartest men in the force; they had taken him on the 
 particular recommendation of the commandant at Troyes. 
 
 ‘ The best way of getting hold of them is to give them 
 warning,’ Peyrade remarked to Corentin. ‘ Then when 
 they are scared, and try to save their papers or to fly, we 
 will drop down on them like a thunderbolt. When the 
 ring of gendarmes closes in about the chateau, we shall 
 have them in a net. We shall get them all in that way. 
 
 ‘ You might send the mayor to warn them,’ suggested 
 the constable. ‘ He is well disposed to them ; he does not 
 wish them harm. They will not suspect him.’ 
 
 • Goulard was just going off to bed when Corentin 
 stopped the chaise in a little wood, and went alone to tell 
 
70 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 him (in confidence) that in another minute or two a gov¬ 
 ernment agent would require him, the mayor, to give his 
 assistance to surround Cinq-Cygne, and to seize MM. de 
 Simeuse and d’Hauteserre at the chateau. If these gentle¬ 
 men had disappeared, it must be ascertained whether they 
 had spent the previous night there. Mademoiselle de 
 Cinq-Cygne’s papers were to be searched, and probably 
 the whole household would be put under arrest. 
 
 4 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne has interest with power¬ 
 ful persons, no doubt,’ continued Corentin, c for my secret 
 instructions are to give her warning, and to do all that I 
 can to save her, without committing myself. Once on 
 the spot, I cannot act on my own responsibility; I am not 
 alone. So hurry off to the chateau.’ 
 
 A visit from the mayor in the middle of the evening 
 was the more surprising to the card-players because 
 Goulard turned a perturbed countenance upon them. 
 
 4 Where is the Countess ? ’ he inquired. 
 
 4 She has gone to bed,’ replied Madame d’Hauteserre. 
 
 The mayor lent an incredulous ear to the sounds above. 
 
 4 What is the matter with you to-day, Goulard ? ’ added 
 Madame d’Hauteserre. 
 
 Goulard looked around upon their faces ; each one ex¬ 
 pressed that complete innocence which may survive to 
 any age. He sank into the utmost depths of astonishment. 
 At sight of the quiet, harmless game of boston interrupted 
 by his entrance, the suspicions of the Paris police grew 
 utterly inconceivable. 
 
 Laurence meanwhile, in her oratory, was kneeling in 
 passionate prayer for the success of the plot! She prayed 
 to God to give help and strength to Bonaparte’s murder¬ 
 ers ! The fanatical zeal of a Harmodius, a Judith, a 
 Jacques Clement, an Anckarstroem, a Charlotte Corday, a 
 Limoelan inspired a pure and noble maiden soul. Cather¬ 
 ine was turning back the sheets, and Gothard was closing 
 
The Trials of the Police 71 
 
 he shutters; so that when Marthe Michu flung a pebble 
 ip at the window he saw her at once. u 
 
 4 Mademoiselle! ’ he called, at sight of the stranger, 
 something has happened.’ 
 
 4 Hush ! ’ whispered Marthe, 4 come and speak to me.’ 
 
 Gothard was down and out in the garden in less time 
 han a bird takes to fly from the tree-top to the ground. 
 
 4 The gendarmerie will be round the chateau in another 
 minute. . . . Go and saddle Mademoiselle’s horse; don’t 
 make any noise, and come round through the gap in the 
 r osse between the stables and the tower.’ 
 
 Laurence had followed Gothard, and stood a couple of 
 Daces away. Marthe quivered at sight of her. 
 
 4 What is it ? ’ Laurence asked, simply and without a 
 sign of discomposure. 
 
 4 The plot against the First Consul is discovered,’ Marthe 
 answered, lowering her voice for the Countess’s ear. 4 My 
 husband is thinking how to save your cousins. He sent 
 me to ask you to come to speak with him.’ 
 
 Laurence drew back a step or two and looked full at 
 Marthe. 
 
 4 Who are you ? ’ she asked. 
 
 4 Marthe Michu.’ 
 
 4 1 do not know what you want with me,’ Laurence 
 returned coolly. 
 
 4 But you are sending them to their death! for the 
 Simeuses’ sake, come! ’ cried Marthe, falling on her knees 
 and holding out her hands entreatingly. 4 Are there any 
 papers here, anything that can compromise you ? My 
 husband, up yonder in the forest, saw the rims of the 
 gendarmes’ caps and the barrels of their guns.’ 
 
 Gothard had begun by scrambling into the loft. He 
 saw the glitter of laced uniforms, and heard the sound of 
 horse hoofs through the stillness. He dropped down into 
 the stable and saddled his mistress’s horse; Catherine, at a 
 word from him, tied the animal’s feet in linen bandages. 
 
7 2 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 c Where must I go ? ’ asked Laurence, for the unmis¬ 
 takable ring of truth in the words and the expression of 
 Marthe’s face had struck her forcibly. 
 
 c Through the gap,’ said Marthe, hurrying her along. 
 
 4 That noble man of mine is there. You shall learn what 
 a Judas is worth/ 
 
 Catherine ran into the drawing-room, caught up her 
 mistress’s gloves, hat and veil and riding-whip, and went 
 out again. Catherine’s sudden appearance was such an 
 eloquent commentary on the mayor’s words that Madame 
 d’Hauteserre and the Abbe Goujet, exchanging glances, 
 read a horrible thought in each other’s eyes. 4 Good-bye 
 to all our happy life ! Laurence is plotting against the 
 Government; her cousins and the two d’Hauteserres are 
 lost, and it is her doing ! ’ 
 
 4 What do you mean ? ’ asked Madame d’Hauteserre, 
 turning to Goulard. 
 
 4 Why, the chateau is surrounded; you are to receive a 
 domiciliary visit. In short, if your sons are here in the 
 house, help to save them and the Simeuses.’ 
 
 ‘My sons!’ cried Madame d’Hauteserre in bewilderment. 
 
 4 We have seen nobody here,’ began her husband. 
 
 4 So much the better! ’ returned Goulard. 4 But I am too 
 much attached to the family of Cinq-Cygne and the Simeuses 
 to bear to see any misfortune happen to them. Mind 
 what I say — if you have any compromising papers-’ 
 
 4 Papers ? ’ repeated old M. d’Hauteserre. 
 
 4 Yes; if there are any, burn them,’ returned the mayor. 
 
 4 1 will go and keep these people in play.’ 
 
 Goulard had a mind to hold with the Royalist hare andj 
 to run with the Republican hounds. He went out, and the 
 dogs began to bark furiously. 
 
 4 It is too late,’ said the cure; 4 here they are. But who 
 is going to tell the Countess ? Where is she ? ’ 
 
 4 Catherine did not come in for her hat and gloves and j 
 riding-whip to make relics of them,’ remarked Mademoi- i 
 
The Trials of the Police 73 
 
 lie Goujet. For some minutes Goulard tried to gain 
 me by assuring the two police agents that the people in 
 e chateau of Cinq-Cygne knew nothing whatever about 
 le matter. 
 
 Peyrade laughed in his face. 
 
 c You don’t know those folk/ he said, and with that the 
 iir entered the house. At sight of their ominously bland 
 >untenances and the constable from Arcis and the gen¬ 
 uine appearing behind them, the four peaceable boston 
 ayers felt the blood freeze in their veins. They stayed 
 • their places, appalled by such a display of force. Half 
 score of gendarmes were stationed outside, for the sound 
 horses pawing the ground reached them across the 
 wn. 
 
 c Every one is here except Mademoiselle de Cinq- 
 !ygne/ remarked Corentin. 
 
 c But she is asleep, no doubt, in her own room/ said 
 1 . d’Hauteserre. 
 
 c Ladies, come with me/ said Corentin. He sprang 
 :ross the antechamber and up the staircase, Madame 
 'Hauteserre and Mademoiselle Goujet following him. 
 !orentin turned to the older lady. c Count upon me/ 
 s whispered. c I am one of your own side. I sent the 
 layor to you just now. Beware of my colleague, and 
 ust me; I will save you all ! 9 
 c But what is it ? 5 asked Mademoiselle Goujet. 
 c It is a matter of life and death! Do you not see 
 lat ? 9 Corentin replied. 
 
 Madame d’Hauteserre fainted. To Mademoiselle Gou¬ 
 t’s great surprise, and Corentin’s no less great disappoint- 
 ient, Laurence’s room was empty. Corentin felt sure 
 lat no creature could escape out of the park or the 
 hateau into the valley. Every issue was guarded. So 
 e ordered up a gendarme into every room, instituted a 
 lorough search through the stables and outbuildings, and 
 r ent down again to the drawing-room. By this time, 
 
74 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 Durieu, his wife, and the rest of the household hac 
 rushed thither in a state of terrific excitement. Peyrade’: 
 little blue eyes scrutinised every face, he was the one coo 
 and unmoved spectator of the commotion. 
 
 Corentin came down alone, for Mademoiselle Gouje| 
 was attending to Madame d’Hauteserre. As he came in] 
 they heard the sound of trampling horses and the wail oi 
 a child. The horses came through the gateway; and ii 
 the midst of the general anxiety and terror, the constabL 
 appeared, pushing Gothard, whose hands were tied, an< 
 Catherine, before the agents of police. 
 
 4 Here are some prisoners,’ said he. 4 This little rasca 
 was on horseback, and ran away.’ 
 
 4 Idiot! ’ muttered Corentin, to the bewilderment of th 
 constable. 4 Why didn’t you let them alone? We migh 
 have found out something by following them.’ 
 
 Gothard had decided to burst into tears in an idioti< 
 fashion. Catherine’s expression of artless innocence se 
 the old agent of police meditating profoundly. Lenoir’ 
 scholar compared the boy and girl; he had already made 
 close scrutiny of the whole party, — of the intelligent cure 
 who was toying with the counters on the table, of th 
 bewildered servants, and the Durieus. M. d’Hauteserre 
 with his simple countenance, he took for a very deep ol 
 gentleman. He went across to Corentin and said in 
 low voice, 4 We have not to do with fools.’ 
 
 For answer Corentin glanced significantly at the card 
 table. 4 They were playing at boston,’ said he; 4 th 
 mistress of the house was going to bed; they have beej 
 taken at unawares; we shall have them fast directly.’ 
 
 A gap always has its uses; there was never a gap ye 
 without a reason for it. Now for the why and wherefor 
 ^f the breach between the stables and the tower tha 
 they call Mademoiselle’s Tower to this day. At on 
 time, the surface water of the forest had been draine 
 
The Trials of the Police 
 
 75 
 
 F by a long gully into the castle moat. When old M. 
 Hauteserre came to Cinq-Cygne, he turned the gully 
 to a roadway across the uncultivated lands of the cha- 
 au, simply for the purpose of planting out some hundred 
 * so of walnut saplings which he found in a plantation, 
 'hat was eleven years ago. The walnut trees since then 
 id grown tolerably thick, almost overspreading the lane 
 hich lay six feet below the banks on either side, and 
 ided in a coppice about thirty acres in extent, — a recent 
 archase. 
 
 When every one was at home at the chateau, the whole 
 Dusehold preferred the short cut by the breach in the 
 >sse, to the longer way round over the bridge to the 
 immunal road that followed the park walls. It was 
 le nearer way to the farm; so, quite unintentionally, 
 le gap was enlarged on either side, and with the less 
 :ruple because a fosse is utterly useless in the nineteenth 
 mtury, and M. d’Hauteserre often talked of turning it 
 ) account. Earth, gravel, and stones were continually 
 ulled down from the sides, until at last the bottom of 
 ,ie ditch was filled in, and a sort of causeway raised high 
 id dry above the water, which only covered it in very 
 liny weather. Still, in spite of this dilapidation, in which 
 le Countess herself did her part, the place was so steep 
 lat it was no easy matter to take a horse up through the 
 reach, while the climb to the communal road was more 
 ifficult still; but it would seem that in danger a horse 
 lakes his master’s thought his own. 
 
 While the Countess was hesitating to follow Marthe 
 id asking for explanations, Michu, watching from his 
 noil, saw the moving lines of gendarmes, comprehended 
 ie spies’ plan, and gave all up for lost as no one came. 
 k picket of gendarmes followed the park walls, and spread 
 lemselves out like sentinels, — one man just so far from 
 ie next that he could see him and hear him call. Not 
 ie least thing, not the faintest rustle, could escape them. 
 
76 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 Michu, lying flat on his stomach, with his ear close to th 
 ground, calculated the time that remained, Indian fashion 
 by the loudness of the sound. 
 
 4 I have come too late ! * he said to himself. 4 Violett 
 shall pay for this. What a time he took to get drunk 
 What is to be done ?’ 
 
 He heard another picket pass through the iron gate 
 Apparently the men had come down from the forest, fo 
 another band came to join them by way of the communa 
 road. 
 
 4 Five or six minutes still left,’ he thought. And at tha 
 moment the Countess appeared. Michu’s strong hand 
 caught her and dropped her into the shaded lane. 4 G 
 straight ahead ! Show her the way to the place where m 
 horse is standing,’ he added, turning to his wife, 4 and don’ 
 forget that gendarmes have ears.’ 
 
 Danger stimulated Michu’s imagination. At sight o 
 Catherine with the hat and gloves and riding-whip, he re 
 solved to outwit the gendarmes as he had outwitted Violette 
 especially as Gothard came up just then with the mare 
 the boy had forced her to climb the gap as if by magic. 
 
 4 Bandages on the mare’s hoofs ! I could kiss you/ h 
 cried, hugging Gothard in his arms. He left the anim; 
 to follow her mistress, and took the hat and gloves an 
 riding-whip. 
 
 4 You have your wits about you, you will understan 
 me,’ continued he. ‘Force your horse up into the roac 
 Ride bare-backed, trail the gendarmes after you, and ru 
 for your life towards the farm. Just draw off all th 
 picket in a body/ he added, waving a hand in the directio 
 Gothard was to take. Then he turned to Catherine. 
 
 4 As for you, my girl, there are some more gendarme 
 coming down on us from Gondreville. Off with you i 
 the opposite direction, and draw the picket away from th 
 chateau into the forest. In fact, manage so that we sha 
 have no trouble with them here in the hollow.’ 
 
The Trials of the Police 
 
 77 
 
 Catherine and the remarkable child, who was to give so 
 any proofs of intelligence in the course of this affair, 
 >th executed this manoeuvre with such skill, that a line 
 ’ gendarmes on either side believed that their prey was 
 Jcaping them. 
 
 It was impossible in the uncertain moonlight to make 
 re of the sex, dress, or number of the fugitives, so the 
 hole picket was soon in hot pursuit on the strength of 
 e fallacious axiom that c any one who runs away ought 
 be stopped/ The folly of this course in the higher 
 anches of the detective service had subsequently been 
 >inted out to the constable by Corentin in forcible lan- 
 lage ; but Michu had reckoned rightly upon the gen- 
 rmes’ instinct. He was able to reach the forest some 
 conds after the Countess. Marthe had led the way to 
 e spot. 
 
 ‘ Run back to the lodge,’ Michu said to his wife. c The 
 rest is sure to be guarded by the Parisians; it is not safe 
 stay here. We shall want all our liberty, I have no 
 •ubt.’ 
 
 Michu untied his horse as he spoke, and asked the 
 Duntess to follow him. 
 
 c I shall go no further,’ said Laurence, c unless you give 
 e some pledge of the interest that you take in me. 
 fter all, you are Michu-’ 
 
 ‘Mademoiselle,’ he said gently, c two words will explain 
 e part I am playing. I am the MM. de Simeuse’s 
 istee, all unknown to them. I took my instructions 
 )m my lord, their late father, and their dear mother, my 
 troness. So I have played the part of rabid Jacobin, to 
 rve my young masters; unluckily I began the game too 
 :e; my old master and mistress I could not save.’ 
 
 Michu’s voice faltered. 
 
 c Since the young gentlemen fled, I have sent them the 
 Dney they needed to live as befitted their rank.’ 
 
 1 Through the firm of Breintmayer, at Strasbourg ? * 
 
78 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 L Yes, Mademoiselle, Strasbourg correspondents of M 
 Girel of Troyes. M. Girel is a Royalist, but to save hi 
 property he turned Jacobin as I did. That paper whicl 
 your farmer picked up one evening coming out of Troyes 
 referred to this business; it might have got us both int< 
 trouble, and my life was not my own but theirs. Do yoi 
 understand ? I could not get possession of Gondreville 
 They would have wanted to know where I got so mud 
 money, and, situated as I was, they might as well have cu 
 my throat. I preferred to wait and buy later on; but th 
 scoundrel Marion was acting for that other scoundre 
 Malin. Gondreville shall go back to its owners all th 
 same. That is my affair. Four hours ago, I had Mali 
 at the end of my rifle; oh, he was past praying for 
 Lord ! once he was dead, there would be a compulsor 
 sale, and you could buy the place. If anything happene 
 to me, my wife would have brought you a letter that woul, 
 have given you the means. But that brigand was tellin, 
 his crony Grevin (another of the scum of the earth) the 
 the MM. de Simeuse were plotting against the First Con 
 sul, that they were in the neighbourhood, and that it woul 
 be better to betray them and be rid of them so as to ow 
 Gondreville in peace. Now, as I had just set eyes on tw 
 arrant spies, I took the charge out of my rifle, and lost n 
 time over coming here. I thought that you ought t 
 know where and how the young gentlemen could tj 
 warned. That is all.’ 
 
 c You are worthy to be a noble,’ said Laurence, holdin 
 out her hand. Michu made as if he would kneel to ki; 
 it, but Laurence stopped him. 
 
 c Stand up, Michu,’ she said, and something in her tor 
 and look made him as happy at that moment as he ha 
 been unhappy for twelve years past. 
 
 ‘You are rewarding me,’ he said, c as if I had done a 
 that I have yet to do. Do you hear those gallows-pu 
 veyors ? Come, let us talk somewhere else.’ 
 
The Trials of the Police 79 
 
 Michu took the mare by the bridle and helped the Count- 
 ;s to mount. 
 
 c Give your whole mind to holding on tight/ he said, c to 
 sing the whip, and steering clear of the branches that will 
 ash you across the face.’ 
 
 For half an hour he led her at full gallop; they turned and 
 visted and went round and about to cut off the trail across 
 le glades, till they reached a point where he stopped. 
 
 4 1 have no idea where I am/ said the Countess, looking 
 >out her, 4 though I know the forest as well as you do.’ 
 
 4 We are right in the middle of it/ he answered. 4 There 
 e two gendarmes after us, but we are safe.’ 
 
 The picturesque spot to which the bailiff brought Lau- 
 :nce was to play such a momentous part in the lives of 
 le principal characters in the story (Michu included), that 
 becomes the chronicler’s duty to describe it. And not 
 lly so, the place became famous in the judicial calendar 
 : the Empire, as shall be shown. 
 
 The Forest of Nodesme once belonged to the monas- 
 ry of Notre Dame. That monastery, seized, sacked, and 
 unolished, disappeared entirely; neither monks nor lands 
 ;mained. The coveted forest became a part of the lands 
 : the counts of Champagne, who afterwards pledged it 
 id allowed it to be sold. In the course of six hundred 
 *ars, nature covered the ruins over with her luxuriant 
 antle of lusty green, hiding them so effectually that noth- 
 g but a tolerably low mound overshaded by tall forest trees 
 arked the spot where one of the finest of old convents once 
 id stood. A dense thicket surrounded the place, and since 
 794 it had pleased Michu to plant thorny acacias among 
 le bushes. A pool below the mound indicated a hidden 
 >ring which doubtless determined the site of the convent 
 former times. Nobody but the owner of the title-deeds 
 * the Forest of Nodesme could have traced the etymology 
 7 a world eight centuries old, or discovered that there had 
 ;en a monastery in the woods in days of yore. 
 
8 o A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 Just as the first mutterings of the thunder of revolutior 
 were heard, a lawsuit obliged the Marquis de Simeuse tc 
 refer to his title-deeds. These particulars chanced to attrac 
 his attention, and he began a search for the site of the mon¬ 
 astery. It is easy enough to imagine the thought he mus 
 have had in his mind. The head keeper, knowing the for 
 est well, assisted his master in the quest; and it was Michu 5 
 woodcraft which discovered the spot. He saw that then 
 were five principal roadways, some of them almost undis 
 tinguishable in the forest; and he noticed that they all cor 
 verged at this point, near the mound beside the pool. I 
 former times they must have led from the monastery t 
 Troyes, to the valley of Arcis, the valley of Cinq-Cygne 
 and to Bar-sur-Aube. The Marquis meant to make exca 
 vations in the mound, but he could not employ natives o 
 the district on the work, and the pressure of circumstance 
 compelled him to give up the idea. But the idea that th 
 mound contained hidden treasure or the foundations o 
 the abbey, remained in Michu’s mind, and he carried o 
 the archaeological investigations by himself. Just at the lev* 
 of the pool, between two trees at the foot of the one bit o 
 steep bank, he found that the ground rang hollow under foo 
 Then one clear night he brought a pickaxe and worked ti 
 he laid bare an opening into a cellar, and several stor 
 steps. 
 
 The pool, only three feet deep at the most, was shape 
 like a spade, with the handle issuing from the mound, 
 spring apparently rose in the artificial rock of masonr 
 filtered away out of sight, and was lost in the vast fores 
 All the neglected wood paths, all the tracks of anciei 
 roads and forest rides led to this marshy spot with its frin£ 
 of waterside trees, its ashes, willows, and alders. T! 
 water seemed to be stagnant, but it was always runnir 1 
 under the broad-leaved weeds and cresses; for the who 
 green surface of the pool was scarcely distinguishable fro 
 its margin of thick, delicate grasses. So lonely was it th 
 
The Trials of the Police 
 
 81 
 
 o animal save the wild creatures came to feed there, 
 "he mound was difficult of access; keepers and sportsmen 
 fere fully persuaded that nothing could exist below the 
 larsh; so they never visited, searched, or sounded that part 
 f the forest where the tallest timber grew under Michu’s 
 upervision till its turn should come to be cut down. 
 
 At the back of this cellar there was a clean, dry, and 
 /holesome vaulted cell, built of freestone, something after 
 be manner of that kind of conventual dungeon known as 
 n in pace . The spring seemed to have been respected in 
 he general demolition, for the cistern wall, built of brick 
 nd mortar such as the Romans used, was apparently of 
 nmense thickness; to which cause probably the whole- 
 omeness of the place and the good condition of the steps 
 /ere due. 
 
 Michu covered the mouth of the retreat with huge 
 tones, and the better to keep the secret to himself, he 
 nade it a rule never to approach the place by way of the 
 ool, but to climb the wooded mound and drop down from 
 bove. 
 
 When the two fugitives reached the spot the century- 
 id trees that grew on the mound were tipped with 
 right silver by the moonlight; it played over the stately 
 lusters among the glades that met about the spot, and 
 he broad or narrow wedges of the woodland which ended 
 ometimes in a clump, sometimes in a single tree. Your 
 yes were drawn irresistibly to the glimpses of the distance 
 own some curving path, by some black wall of leaves 
 i shadow, or along a sublime, far-reaching vista of forest 
 rees. The light, filtering down through the branches 
 bout the meeting of the ways, found the still water out of 
 ight under the cresses and lily leaves, and lit a diamond 
 park here and there. The croaking of the frogs was the 
 nly sound that troubled the deep silence of this fair nook 
 f forest, where the wild scents stirred thoughts of freedom 
 i the soul. 
 
 F 
 
82 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 Are we really safe ? ’ the Countess asked Michu. 
 
 4 Yes, Mademoiselle. But we have each of us some¬ 
 thing to do. Tie up the horses to the trees on the top of 
 the bank, and muzzle them both,’ he added, holding oui 
 his neck handkerchief; 4 they are intelligent creatures ; the) 
 will understand and keep quiet. When that is done jump 
 down off the bank to the water’s edge; take care not tc 
 catch your habit against anything, and you will find me 
 below.’ 
 
 While the Countess hid the horses, and tied them up 
 and fastened the handkerchiefs over their nostrils, Michi 
 cleared away the stones from the opening into the cellar 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne thought that she knew the 
 forest thoroughly; she was amazed to the last degree tc 
 find herself under the vaulted roof. Michu put back the 
 stones as skilfully as any mason. He had scarcely finished 
 before the trampling of horse hoofs and the voices of the 
 gendarmes rang through the still night air; nevertheless 1 
 he struck a light with much composure, kindled a bit of 
 pine torch, led the way into the in pace , where he found a i 
 end of candle left behind after an exploring expedition 
 The iron door he himself had put into repair; thougl 
 eaten through with rust in several places it was nearly ai 
 inch thick and was bolted on the outside. An iron rinj 
 still hung from the wall, above the stone bench on whicl 
 the Countess de Cinq-Cygne sank down, exhausted. 
 
 4 We have a parlour to talk in,’ said Michu. 4 Th 
 gendarmes may go round and about as much as they like 
 if the worst comes to the worst, they will only take th 
 horses.’ 
 
 4 Take our horses,’ repeated Laurence de Cinq-Cygne 
 4 If they do, it might be the death of my cousim 
 and the d’Hauteserres ! . . . Let us see now, what d 
 you know ? ’ 
 
 Michu repeated the scrap of Malin’s conversation wit 
 Grevin. 
 
The Trials of the Police 83 
 
 4 They are on their way to Paris now ! They are to 
 each Paris this morning ! ’ said the Countess when he 
 nded. 
 
 4 It is all over with them ! ’ exclaimed Michu. c There 
 vdll be men at the barriers to watch every one who comes 
 a or out of Paris, you may be sure. It is in every way to 
 Kalin’s interest to allow my masters to compromise them- 
 elves hopelessly, so as to get rid of them.’ 
 
 4 And I know nothing of the general scheme ! 9 cried 
 ^aurence. c How can I send warning to Georges and 
 tiviere and Moreau ? Where are they ? In short, let us 
 hink simply of my cousins and the d’Hauteserres, and over- 
 ake them, cost what it may.’ 
 
 4 Signalled messages travel faster than the best horse,’ said 
 Vlichu, c and of all the nobles deep in this plot, your cousins 
 vill be most thoroughly hunted down. If I can overtake 
 hem, they must be hidden here; we will keep them here till 
 he affair is over. Their poor father perhaps had a vision of 
 his when he set me on the track of the hiding-place; he had 
 1 presentiment that his sons would fly to it in danger.’ 
 
 c My mare was bred in the Comte d’Artois’s stables, 
 -[er sire was his best English thoroughbred, but I have 
 idden her between eighty and ninety miles to-day; she 
 would drop down dead on the road.’ 
 
 4 I have a good horse,’ replied Michu. c If you have 
 •idden between eighty and ninety miles, I should not have 
 nuch more than forty to ride.’ 
 
 4 Fifty-five,’ said she ; c they were to be on their way by 
 ive o’clock. You will find them above Lagny at Coupvrai. 
 They are to leave Coupvrai at dawn, disguised as boat- 
 nen ; they mean to enter Paris by boat. Here is the one 
 :oken that they will believe,’ she continued, giving the 
 broken half of her mother’s wedding-ring. c I gave them 
 :he other half. The keeper at Coupvrai is the father of 
 Dne of the men they have with them ; he found them a 
 hiding-place in a charcoal-burner’s hut in the woods. 
 
84 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 There are eight in all. My cousins have four men with 
 them beside the MM. d’Hautserre.’ 
 
 c Nobody will run after the men, Mademoiselle; let us 
 look after the MM. de Simeuse, and leave the rest to do 
 as they like about getting away. Is it not enough to give 
 a call of 44 Heads, oh ” ?’ 
 
 c Leave the d’Hauteserres ? Never!’ she said. 4 They 
 must all escape or all die together.’ 
 
 c Little country squires ? ’ objected Michu. 
 
 4 They are only squires, I know,’ she said; 4 but they 
 are connected with the Cinq-Cygnes and the Simeuses. 
 So bring back my cousins and the d’Hauteserres, and take 
 counsel with them as to the best way of reaching the forest 
 here.’ 
 
 4 There are the gendarmes! Do you hear ? They are 
 having a consultation.’ 
 
 4 After all, you have been lucky twice already to-night. 
 Go, bring them back, and hide them here in this hole. 
 They will be quite safe. And I can be of no use what¬ 
 ever to you,’ she cried passionately. 4 I should be a beacon 
 to give light to their enemies. The police will never 
 think that they could come back to the forest when they 
 see me stay quietly at home. And now the whole ques¬ 
 tion is this,’ she continued, 4 how to find five good horsey 
 that will bring them from Lagny to our forest in six hours ;S 
 five horses to be left dead in a thicket.’ 
 
 c And money?’ asked Michu. He had been thinking 
 intently as he listened. 
 
 4 1 gave my cousins a hundred louis, just now.’ 
 
 c I will answer for their lives,’ Michu exclaimed. 4 When 
 once they are hidden you must give up any attempt to see 
 them. My wife or my boy will take food to them twice a 
 week. But I cannot answer for my own life; so I must 
 tell you, Mademoiselle, in case anything should happen, 
 that in the cross-beam in the garret roof there is a hole 
 bored by an auger, and stopped with a wooden plug. Inside 
 
The Trials of the Police 85 
 
 here is a plan of a bit of the forest. All the trees marked 
 with a red dot on the plan, bear a black mark on them on the 
 ground, and each one of those trees is a sign-post. Under 
 he third old oak from each of the sign-post trees, two feet 
 iway from the trunk, and seven feet underground, there lies 
 i tin canister containing a hundred thousand francs in gold. 
 Those eleven trees, for there are only eleven of them, are 
 ill the fortune left to the Simeuses now that Gondreville 
 las been taken from them/ 
 
 4 It will take a century for the noblesse to recover from 
 :he blows dealt to them,’ Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne said 
 dowly. 
 
 4 Is there a password ? ’ Michu asked. 
 
 4 France and Charles for the men, and Laurence and Louis 
 r or the d’Hauteserres and Simeuses. O, God ! to have 
 seen them again for the first time after eleven years, and to 
 know that they are in danger of death to-day, and what a 
 death ! Michu,’ she said, with a melancholy expression in 
 her face, c be as careful during these next fifteen hours as 
 pou have been great and devoted all through the twelve 
 years. If anything should happen to my cousins, I 
 should die. No, not until I had killed Bonaparte,’ she 
 added. 
 
 4 There will be two of us for that,’ he said, c on the day 
 when all is lost.’ 
 
 Laurence grasped Michu’s rough hand in hers, and shook 
 it in the English fashion. Michu looked at his watch. It 
 was midnight. 
 
 4 Let us get out at all costs,’ he said. 4 The gendarme 
 that tries to stop me had better look out! And you, 
 Madame la Comtesse, would it not be better for you to go 
 back to the chateau at full gallop ? They are there ; keep 
 them in play.’ 
 
 Michu unstopped the entrance, and heard nothing; he 
 flung himself flat on the ground to listen, and then rose 
 suddenly to his feet. 
 
86 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 ‘They are on the outskirts of the forest near Troyes,^ 
 he said; ‘ I will give them leg-bail.’ 
 
 He helped the Countess to climb out, replaced the heap 
 of stones. When he had finished, he heard Laurence’s 
 sweet voice calling to him; she wished to see him moun* 
 first. There were tears in the rough keeper’s eyes as h^ 
 exchanged a last glance with his young mistress, but 
 Laurence was dry eyed. 
 
 c Let us keep them in play; he is right,’ she said to her¬ 
 self when the last sounds had died away. And she set 
 out at a gallop for Cinq-Cygne. 
 
 When Madame d’Hauteserre knew that her sons’ lives 
 were in danger, the very violence of the anguish which 
 stunned her brought her back to her senses and gave hei 
 strength. She could not believe that the Revolution was 
 over; she had had experience of the summary justice dealt 
 in times past; and a dreadful curiosity drew her down to 
 the salon. The sight that met her eyes was in truth 
 worthy of a painter of genre. 
 
 The cure was still sitting at the card-table, playing 
 mechanically with the counters, while he kept a furtive 
 watch on Peyrade and Corentin, who stood in the chimney 
 corner talking together with lowered voices. Several times 
 Corentin’s keen eyes had happened to meet the cure’s no 
 less keen glances, but both of them promptly looked away, 
 much as two equally matched fencers might fall back on 
 guard after crossing swords. 
 
 Old d’Hauteserre, planted like a heron on his two feet, 
 stood beside Goulard, the big and burly miser, whose atti¬ 
 tude assumed in his first bewilderment was still unchanged. 
 As for the mayor, though he dressed like a master he 
 always looked like a servant. Both men stared stupidly 
 at the gendarmes, on either side of Gothard. The boy 
 was still crying; his hands had been tied in such a rigor¬ 
 ous fashion that they were purple and swollen. Catherine 
 
The Trials of the Police 87 
 
 naintained her position; she was quite simple and artless 
 nd quite inscrutable. The constable, who according to 
 Corentin had made a silly blunder by arresting these good 
 ittle souls, was in two minds whether he ought to stay or 
 jo, so he stood absorbed in thought in the middle of the 
 00m, with his hand on his sabre hilt and his eyes on the 
 nen from Paris. The bewildered Durieus and the group 
 >f servants made an admirable picture of anxiety. If it 
 lad not been for Gothard’s sobbing you could have heard 
 1 pin drop. * 
 
 All faces were turned towards the door when it opened 
 ind the mother appeared, white and terror-stricken, almost 
 carried by Mademoiselle Goujet, whose eyes were red 
 Mth weeping. The two agents of police hoped and the 
 rest of the party feared to see Laurence enter with them. 
 The spontaneous movement of the family, the servants 
 ncluded, might have been caused by some mechanical 
 contrivance that sets a row of wooden puppets making one 
 single gesture or blinking their eyes with one accord. 
 
 Madame d’Hauteserre made three hasty paces towards 
 Corentin and cried out, in a broken but excited voice: — 
 
 ‘ For pity’s sake, Monsieur, of what are my sons accused ? 
 And do you think that they can be here ? ’ 
 
 The cure, watching the old lady, lowered his eyes. 1 She 
 will make a mess of it,’ he seemed to say to himself. 
 
 ‘ My duty and the mission which I am fulfilling will not 
 permit me to tell you that,’ replied Corentin, with satirical 
 urbanity. 
 
 The young fop’s odious affability made his refusal even 
 more hopelessly emphatic; the old mother seemed to be 
 turned to stone. She sank down into an easy-chair beside 
 the Abbe Goujet, clasped her hands, and put up a prayer. 
 
 ‘ Where did you find that cry-baby ? ’ inquired Corentin, 
 indicating Laurence’s little squire to the constable. 
 
 < On the road to the farm along by the park walls; the 
 rogue was making for the wood at Closeaux.’ 
 
88 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 And the girl ? 9 
 
 c She ? It was Olivier that nabbed her/ 
 
 c Where was she going ? 9 
 
 ‘Towards Gondreville/ 
 
 4 One going one way, and the other, another ? 9 
 
 4 Yes,’ said the gendarme. 
 
 4 He is the Citoyenne Cinq-Cygne’s page, and the 
 girl is her maid, I think,’ said Corentin, addressing the 
 mayor. 
 
 4 Yes, 9 answered Goulard. 
 
 Corentin and Peyrade held a brief, whispered conference 
 on this, and the latter went out with the constable. The 
 Arcis constable came in, and spoke to Corentin in a low 
 voice. 
 
 4 1 know the premises well, 9 he said. 4 1 have made 
 a thorough search through the outbuildings; there is 
 nobody there unless the young fellows are buried under¬ 
 ground. We have sounded all the walls and floors with 
 our gun-stocks. 9 
 
 Peyrade came in, beckoned Corentin out of the room, 
 took him to see the gap in the fosse, and pointed out the 
 hollow way beyond. 
 
 4 We have found out the dodge, 9 said he. 
 
 4 And I’ll tell you what it was, 9 said Corentin. 4 That 
 little jackanapes and the girl put those stupid idiots of 
 gendarmes on the wrong scent, so that the game got clear 
 away. 9 
 
 4 We shall not know how things really are before day¬ 
 light, 9 returned Peyrade. 4 The lane is damp. I have 
 posted a couple of gendarmes at top and bottom, to stop the 
 way; and as soon as we can see, we will find out who it 
 was that went that way by the footprints. 9 
 
 4 There is the mark of a horseshoe here, 9 said Corentin. 
 
 4 Let us go round to the stables. 9 
 
 4 How many horses are there here ? 9 demanded Peyrade, 
 when they returned to the salon. 
 
The Trials of the Police 89 
 
 4 Come, come, master mayor, you know; answer!’ 
 ried Corentin, seeing that that functionary hesitated. 
 
 4 Why, there is the Countess’s mare, there is Gothard’s 
 orse, and M. d’Hauteserre’s- 5 
 
 4 We only saw one in the stable,’ remarked Peyrade. 
 
 4 Mademoiselle has gone out,’ said Durieu. 
 
 4 Does your ward often go out at night in this way ? ’ 
 sked the dissolute Peyrade. 
 
 4 Very frequently,’ the old gentleman answered simply, 
 as M. le Maire can testify.’ 
 
 4 She has her crotchets, as all the world knows,’ put in 
 Catherine. 4 She looked out at the sky before she went to 
 •ed; she saw your bayonets shining in the distance, I 
 xpect, and that puzzled her. She told me when she went 
 »ut that she wanted to know if there was another new 
 devolution going on.’ 
 
 4 When did she go out ? ’ asked Peyrade. 
 
 4 When she saw your guns.’ 
 
 4 And which way did she go ? ’ 
 
 4 1 do not know.’ 
 
 4 And the other horse ? ’ suggested Corentin. 
 
 4 The g-g-gendarmes t-t-took him awa-wa-way from 
 ne,’ sobbed little Gothard. 
 
 4 Then where were you going ? ’ asked a gendarme. 
 
 4 1 wa-wa-was g-going after m-my mistress to the f-f-f- 
 arm ! ’ 
 
 The gendarme looked up as if he expected an order; but 
 his kind of talk was so natural yet so artful, so profoundly 
 nnocent yet so shrewd, that again the men from Paris 
 ooked at one another as if to repeat Peyrade’s dictum, 
 These are no fools.’ 
 
 The master of the house apparently had not wit enough 
 o understand a gibe. The mayor was plainly a dolt. 
 The mother, driven out of her maternal wits, was putting 
 lopelessly silly questions to agents of police. All these 
 )eople had really been surprised in their sleep. Corentin 
 
90 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 with all these little facts before him, weighed the characters 
 of these diverse personages, and at once came to the con¬ 
 clusion that his one real antagonist was Mademoiselle de 
 Cinq-Cygne. 
 
 The detective, however clever he may be, labours under 
 a great many disadvantages. Not only is he obliged to 
 find out all that the conspirator knows already, but he is 
 further bound to invent hypotheses by the hundred until 
 he chances upon the right one. A conspirator is always 
 thinking of his safety, while the detective is only on the 
 alert at certain times. If it were not for traitors con¬ 
 spiracy would be the easiest thing in the world. A 
 conspirator has more ingenuity in his single head than 
 the whole body of detectives with all their immense re¬ 
 sources in action. Corentin and Peyrade felt that they 
 were pulled up, mentally speaking. They had been driven, 
 as it were, to pick a lock instead of finding an open door, 
 and now discovered that several persons on the other side 
 were silently leaning all their weight against it. Corentin 
 and Peyrade saw that some one had guessed their plans 
 and outwitted them; but who this was they did not 
 know. 
 
 c If the MM. de Simeuse and d’Hauteserre spent the 
 night here,’ the Arcis constable said in a low voice, c I will 
 be bound that they either slept in the beds belonging to 
 their father and mother, Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne and 
 the servants, or else they tramped up and down in the park 
 all night, for there is not the slightest sign to show that 
 they have been here.’ 
 
 c Then who can have given them warning ? 9 Corentin 
 asked turning to Peyrade. c Nobody knows anything yet, 
 except the First Consul and Fouche, the Prefect of Police, 
 the Ministers, and Malin.’ 
 
 c We will leave some sheep in the neighbourhood,’ 
 whispered Peyrade. 
 
 c And that so much the better because your sheep will 
 
The Trials of the Police 91 
 
 e in Champagne,’ 1 said the cure; he could not help smiling 
 /hen he heard that word sheep , and guessed all that was 
 leant by it. 
 
 4 Dear me,’ thought Corentin, smiling back at the cure, 
 there is one intelligent man here. I may arrive at an 
 nderstanding with him ; I will have a try.’ 
 
 But the mayor meant at all events to give some proof of 
 iis zeal for the First Consul; he addressed himself to 
 "ouche’s agents. 
 
 4 Gentlemen-’ 
 
 4 Say citizens; the Republic is still in existence,’ sug- 
 ;ested Corentin, with a satirical smile at the cure. 
 
 4 Citizens,’ began the mayor, 4 just as I came into this 
 00 m and before I could open my mouth, Catherine came 
 lying in for her mistress’s hat and gloves and riding-whip.’ 
 
 A low murmur of disgust came from the depths of every 
 :hest save Gothard’s. All eyes, save the eyes of the police 
 igents, flashed fire and threatenings at Goulard the informer. 
 
 c Good Citizen Mayor,’ said Peyrade, 4 we see through 
 his perfectly well. Somebody gave the Citizeness Cinq- 
 Cygne a very timely warning,’ he added, eyeing Corentin 
 vith evident distrust. 
 
 4 Constable, put handcuffs on the little chap,’ said Cor- 
 mtin, 4 and shut him up alone. Lock up this little girl, 
 :oo,’ he added, pointing to Catherine. — 4 You will super- 
 ntend the search of the papers, now,’ he continued, turning 
 :o Peyrade. He lowered his voice to say a few words, and 
 :hen added aloud. 4 Search through them all, spare nothing. 
 — M. l’Abbe,’ he continued, 4 I have an important com- 
 nunication to make.’ He led the way into the garden. 
 
 4 M. l’Abbe, you seem to me to have all the wit of a 
 Dishop, and — nobody can overhear us — you will under- 
 
 1 An allusion to the saying, Quatre-vingt-dix-neuf moutom et un Champenois 
 font cent betes. 
 
 For the French word mouton in its sense of police spy, no English equivalent 
 ' ncists. —Tr. 
 
92 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 stand me, my one hope is in you. Here are two familie 
 brought by some foolish blunder to the brink of a precipice 
 from which no one comes back if he once falls over. The 
 MM. de Simeuse and d’Hauteserre have been betrayed b\ 
 one of the vile informers insinuated into every plot by the 
 Government, so as to make sure of the methods employed 
 the people involved in it, and their object. Do not con 
 fuse me with the wretch, my companion ; he is a mere 
 detective, while I have the last word of the consular cabi¬ 
 net to which I am very honourably attached. It is no 
 desired that the MM. de Simeuse should be ruined ; Malir 
 might like to see them shot, but the First Consul wishe; 
 to stop them on the brink of the precipice (if they are here 
 that is, and if they have no criminal designs), for he has 2 
 liking for a good soldier. My fellow agent has all the 
 power; I, in appearance, am nobody, but I know how the 
 land lies. Malin has given him a hint, has promised to use 
 his influence, no doubt, to get him a place and money as 
 well, very likely, if he can find the two Simeuses and give 
 them up. The First Consul is a really great man; he has 
 no sympathy with covetousness and greed. 
 
 c I have not the least wish to know whether the young 
 men are here/ continued Corentin, in reply to a gesture 
 from the cure, c but there is only one way of saving them 
 You know the law of 6th of Floreal, year X ? It offers 
 an amnesty to all emigres still resident abroad, on condition 
 that they return before the 1 st Vendemiaire of the year XL 
 which is to say, before the September of last year. But as 
 the MM. de Simeuse and the MM. d’Hauteserre likewise 
 have held commands in the Army of Conde, they are 
 among the exceptions made by that same law. So their] 
 presence in France is a criminal offence; it will be taken, 
 under the circumstances, as a sufficient proof of their com-i 
 plicity in a detestable plot. The First Consul has felt the 
 weak point of the exception made by the law of the 6th 
 Floreal; he sees that it makes irreconcilable enemies for 
 
The Trials of the Police 93 
 
 ! s Government; he wishes it to be made known to the 
 [ [M. de Simeuse, that no steps will be taken against them, 
 they address a petition to the proper quarter, stating 
 ; iat they have come back to France with a view to making 
 | ieir submission to the laws, and promising to take the oath 
 , the Constitution. You can understand that this docu- 
 ent must be in his hands before they are arrested; it 
 lould be dated a few days back; I can be the bearer. . . 
 
 ‘ I do not ask you where the young men are,’ he went 
 i, as the cure shook his head again. ‘ Unfortunately we 
 e only too sure to find them. The forest is patrolled, the 
 t rtes of Paris are watched, so is the frontier. Attend 
 irefully to this that I am about to say ! If the gentlemen 
 e anywhere between the forest and Paris, they will be 
 iken. If they are at Paris, they will be found there. If 
 ley turn back, the unfortunates will be arrested. The 
 irst Consul is well disposed towards ci-devants, and cannot 
 ear Republicans; and this is quite natural. If he wants 
 throne he is bound to murder liberty first. This between 
 urselves. Now, see here ! I will wait till to-morrow; 
 
 will be blind; but be on your guard with the agent, 
 ’hat damned Provencal is the devil’s own lackey; he has 
 ouche’s instructions just as I have mine from the First 
 lonsul.’ 
 
 ‘If the MM. de Simeuse are here,’ said the cure, ‘I 
 'ould give ten pints of my blood and an arm to save 
 lem; but, if Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne is in their 
 onfidence, not the slightest word has escaped her, and she 
 as not done me the honour to consult me. I swear it by 
 ly salvation. At this moment I am profoundly glad that 
 ie has kept her own counsel, always supposing that she 
 ad any counsel to keep. We were playing a game of 
 oston to-night, as usual; the house was perfectly quiet 
 ntil half-past ten; we neither saw nor heard anything. A 
 hild cannot come into this lonely valley but everybody 
 j;es and knows it, and for the last fortnight not a single 
 
94 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 stranger has been here. Now the MM. d’Hauteserre 
 and de Simeuse make a party of four by themselves. The 
 old gentleman and his wife have submitted to the Govern¬ 
 ment ; they have made every imaginable effort to bring 
 their sons home; they wrote to them only yesterday. So^ 
 upon my soul and conscience, it took your descent upon us 
 here to shake my firm belief that they are in Germany. 
 Between ourselves, the young Countess is the only person 
 in the house who fails to do justice to the eminent merits 
 of M. le Premier Consul/ 
 
 c Sly dog!’ thought Corentin. Aloud he said, c If the 
 young men are taken and shot, it will only be what they 
 deserve. I wash my hands of it now.’ 
 
 He had walked with the abbe to an open space; the 
 moon was shining down full upon them, and as he uttered 
 those fatal words, he looked up sharply, full in his com¬ 
 panion’s face. The abbe was deeply distressed; but he 
 seemed both surprised and wholly ignorant. 
 
 c Just remember, M. l’Abbe,’ Corentin went on, c that 
 they are doubly criminal in the eyes of subordinates, 
 because they have a right to Gondreville. In fact, I want 
 them to pray to Providence, and not to the saints.’ 
 c Then there is a plot ? ’ the cure asked naively. 
 c A base, hateful, cowardly plot, so contrary to the 
 generous spirit of the nation that it will meet with repro¬ 
 bation on all sides,’ replied Corentin. 
 
 c Oh, well! Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne is incapable 
 of baseness,’ exclaimed the cure. 
 
 C M. l’Abbe,’ returned Corentin, c look here. We have 
 (this is still between you and me), we have unmistakable 
 proof of her complicity, but not enough as yet to serve as 
 evidence in a court of law. She takes flight as soon as we 
 come. . . And yet, I had sent the mayor to you.’ 
 
 c Yes, but you followed rather close upon the mayor’s 
 heels for a man that had it so much on his mind to save 
 them,’ remarked the abbe. 
 
The Trials of the Police 95 
 
 The two men looked one another in the eyes. There 
 yas no more to be said. Both were deeply learned anato- 
 nists of human thought; a simple inflexion of the voice, 
 n expression, a word was enough; they could guess the 
 :ind of man with whom they had to do, just as a savage 
 mows his enemies by tokens invisible to European eyes. 
 
 4 I thought I should get something out of him,’ thought 
 Corentin, c and he has found me out.’ 
 
 4 Oh, the scoundrel!’ the cure said to himself. 
 
 The old church clock struck twelve as Corentin and the 
 :ure came back to the drawing-room. There was a sound 
 is of opening and shutting chamber doors and cupboards. 
 The gendarmes were pulling the beds to pieces. Peyrade, 
 vith a spy’s quick intelligence, was ferreting and probing 
 everywhere. The faithful servants of the family stood 
 notionless as before, half terrified, half indignant at this 
 'aid. M. d’Hauteserre exchanged compassionate glances 
 vith his wife and Mademoiselle Goujet. A dreadful curi¬ 
 osity kept every one on the alert. Just then Peyrade came 
 lown with a box in his hand. It was a small, carved 
 sandalwood box, that the Admiral de Simeuse must have 
 Drought from China, — a pretty, flat box, the size and 
 shape of a quarto volume. 
 
 Peyrade beckoned Corentin to the window. 
 
 4 1 have it ! 9 he said. 4 That Michu who could pay 
 Marion a hundred thousand francs in gold for Gondreville, 
 and wanted to kill Malin just now, must be the Simeuses’s 
 man. He threatened Marion and stalked Malin from the 
 same motive. He seemed to me to be capable of carrying 
 ideas in his head; he has only one idea; he got to know 
 how matters are, and he must have come to give the alarm 
 fhere.’ 
 
 4 Yes, Malin would be talking about the plot with his 
 i friend the notary,’ said Corentin, following out his col¬ 
 league’s reasoning; 4 and Michu being in ambush, no doubt 
 would hear the Simeuses’s name mentioned. In short, 
 
96 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 Michu only brought himself to postpone his chance of a 
 shot at him, to prevent a calamity which seemed to him 
 to be even greater than the loss of Gondreville.’ 
 
 4 He saw quite well what we are,’ remarked Peyrade. 
 ‘ And it seemed to me, at the time, that that peasant’s 
 intelligence bordered on the marvellous.’ 
 
 4 Oh ! this proves that he was on his guard,’ replied 
 Corentin. 4 But, after all, old man, we mustn’t run away 
 with the wrong idea. Treachery stinks prodigiously, and 
 primitive folk smell it afar off.’ 
 
 4 So much the better for us,’ rejoined the Provencal. 
 Corentin called to a gendarme. 
 
 c Send in the Arcis constable,’ he said, adding to Peyrade, 
 c Let us send down to the lodge.’ 
 
 4 Violette is there; his ears are in our interest.’ 
 
 c We set out before we heard from him, though,’ said 
 Corentin. 4 We ought to have brought Sabatier. Two 
 of us are not enough.’ 
 
 When the gendarme came in, Corentin edged him in 
 between himself and Peyrade. 
 
 4 Constable,’ he said, 4 don’t let them take a rise out of 
 you, as they did just now out of the constable from Troyes. 
 It looks to us as if Michu were in this affair. Go down 
 to the lodge, take a look round, and report.’ 
 
 4 One of my men heard horses in the forest, when they 
 made prisoners of the lad and girl; and I have four stout 
 fellows at the heels of those that might be trying to hide 
 there,’ said the constable. He went out, set off at a gallop 
 down the paved way across the lav/n, and very soon the 
 sounds grew faint in the distance. 
 
 4 Come; they are either going towards Paris, or on their 
 way back to Germany,’ said Corentin to himself. He sat 
 down, took a note-book from the pocket of his spencer, 
 wrote out two orders in pencil, sealed them, and beckoned 
 to a gendarme. 
 
 4 Ride off to Troyes full speed, wake up the prefect, and 
 
The Trials of the Police 97 
 
 tell him to set the semaphore at work as soon as there is 
 light enough.’ 
 
 The gendarme galloped off with the message. The 
 x meaning of this proceeding and Corentin’s intentions were 
 both so plain that the whole household felt something clutch 
 tightly at their hearts; and yet the uneasiness was in some 
 sort an added pang in their anguish, for their eyes were all 
 fixed upon the precious casket. While the two agents 
 spoke together, they furtively read the language of those 
 blazing eyes; and their unfeeling hearts were moved to a 
 sort of cold anger; they enjoyed the consternation about 
 v them. 
 
 The sensations of the sportsman and the detective are 
 the same; but while the one exerts all the powers of body 
 and mind to kill a hare, a partridge, or a buck, the concern 
 p of the other is to save a government or a prince, and to earn 
 a large reward. And this sport, in which man is the game, 
 is superior to all other sport by the whole distance that 
 separates man from the brute. A spy, moreover, is fain to 
 c magnify his part by the greatness and importance of the 
 interests at stake. A man has no need to meddle in such 
 a business to realise that there is as much passionate inter¬ 
 est thrown into it as ever the hunter can put into the chase. 
 As the two detectives gained a glimmering of the truth, 
 their eagerness grew warmer, but their faces and eyes were 
 indifferent and composed; their suspicions, thoughts, and 
 plan of action were impenetrable as ever. Yet for any one 
 who could have watched these two sleuth-hounds at their 
 % work, who could have seen the way in which they tracked 
 down unknown and concealed facts, and have understood 
 the swift, canine instinct which led them to find the truth 
 after a rapid survey of probabilities, there was something, 
 ''T say, in all this to make one shudder. 
 
 How and why had these men of genius fallen so low, 
 when they might have been so high ? What flaw, what 
 defect, what passion was it that had so debased them ? Is 
 
9 8 
 
 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 a man a detective, as others are thinkers, writers, states¬ 
 men, painters, commanders on the battle-field, on condition 
 that he shall do nothing but play the spy, just as other men 
 do nothing but speak, write books, govern, paint, or fight, j 
 all their lives long ? At the chateau there was but one 
 wish in the hearts of the household, — c Will not thunder 
 fall upon these wretches ? 9 Every creature thirsted for 
 revenge. But for the presence of the gendarmes there J 
 would have been an outbreak. 
 
 c Nobody has the key of the box,’ suggested the cynical * 
 Peyrade, giving an interrogative force to his remark by 
 turning his great red face upon the company. He noticed 
 as he did so, not without some inward quaking, that then 
 were no gendarmes left in the room. Corentin and h 
 were alone. 
 
 Corentin drew a small dagger from his pocket and pro¬ 
 ceeded to force it under the lid of the box. Even as he 
 did so, they heard the sound of a horse galloping first on 
 the road, afterwards on the paved way across the lawn; it 
 was the terrible sound of a horse at the last gasp, succeeded^ 
 by the far more dreadful moan, as the animal fell in a heap 
 at the foot of the central turret. 
 
 The rustle of a riding-habit was followed by the appear¬ 
 ance of Laurence herself, and in a moment the servants^ 
 stood aside to right and left to allow her to pass. If a 
 thunderbolt had fallen in their midst there could not have 
 been more commotion. Quickly as she had ridden, she 
 had had time to feel the pain that the discovery of the con¬ 
 spiracy must inevitably cause her. All her hopes were* 
 wrecked. She had galloped across the ruins of them, think¬ 
 ing all the while that there was nothing for it now but 
 submission to the consular government; and if she had not 
 quelled fatigue and exhaustion with the thought of the four* 
 nobles in peril of their lives she would have sunk fainting 
 to the ground. She had all but killed her mare to come 
 back to stand between her cousins and death. 
 
The Trials of the Police 99 
 
 At the sight of the heroic girl with the veil put back 
 from her white, drawn face, and her riding-whip in her 
 hand, every one knew by an almost imperceptible twitch of 
 P Corentin’s sour, troubled countenance that now the real 
 antagonists were face to face. A dreadful duel was about 
 to begin. 
 
 The Countess saw Corentin with the box in his hands; 
 v* raising her riding-whip she sprang at him so quickly and 
 slashed him so sharply over the hands that the casket 
 dropped to the ground. She snatched it up, flung it into 
 the fire, and stood with her back to the hearth in a defiant 
 attitude before the agents of police could recover from their 
 surprise. Scorn blazed in Laurence’s eyes; her white fore¬ 
 head and disdainful lips expressed more of insult than even 
 her autocrat’s action as she spurned Corentin for a ven- 
 > omous reptile. The chivalrous instinct was roused in 
 old d’Hauteserre; all the blood rushed into his face; he 
 wished that he had his sword at his side. The servants at 
 first thrilled with joy; the vengeance so long invoked had 
 
 * fallen like a thunderbolt on one of these men ; but a hideous 
 fear soon thrust the joy down into the depths of their souls. 
 They could still hear the gendarmes coming and going in 
 the attics overhead. 
 
 The spy ,— for all distinctions among agents of police 
 are confounded and labelled with one vigorous epithet by a 
 public that has never cared to find separate names to suit 
 the various practitioners of a leech-craft indispensable to 
 governments, — the spy has something about him that is 
 
 * magnificent and curious : he never resents anything. His 
 is the Christian humility of the priest; his eyes are used to 
 bear scorn; he raises, as it were, a barrier between him- 
 
 ^ self and the multitude of fools that do not understand him. 
 Insults he meets with brows of brass; he moves to his goal 
 like some creatu/e encased in a shell that nothing; short 
 of a cannon-ball can pierce; and, like his prototype of the 
 carapace, he is the more furious when wounded because he 
 
ioo A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 believed himself secure in his armour. For Corentin that 
 slash across the fingers, quite apart from the pain, was like 
 the cannon-ball crashing through the carapace; the gesture, 
 fraught with the loathing of a noble and heroic girl, humili¬ 
 ated him not merely in the eyes of the onlookers, but even 
 in his own. 
 
 Peyrade, the Provencal, sprang towards her. Laurence 
 spurned him, but he caught her by the foot and forced her 
 in that undignified fashion back into the low chair where 
 she had lain asleep only a few hours ago. It was a bit of 
 burlesque in the midst of terror, that touch of incongruity 
 which is seldom wanting in human life. Peyrade scorched i 
 his hand as he snatched the box from the fire, but he took 
 possession of the thing, dropped it on the floor and sat 
 down upon it. The little events followed in swift succes¬ 
 sion, without a word. Corentin, recovered from the smart- 
 ing sensation of the blow, held Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne 
 down by the wrists. 
 
 c Do not oblige me to use force to you, fair citoyenne,’ 
 he remarked, with withering courtesy. 
 
 Peyrade, sitting on his prize, had stifled out the flames. 
 
 c Here, men !’ he called, still squatting in his odd position. 
 
 c Will you promise to behave yourself ?’ said Corentin, 
 insolently addressing Laurence while he put up his dagger. 
 He did not make the mistake of threatening her. 
 
 c The secrets in the box do not concern the Govern¬ 
 ment,’ said she, with a touch of melancholy in her face 
 and tone. c When you have read those letters, vile as 
 you are, you will feel ashamed to have read them. . . . * 
 But have you any sense of shame still left ? ’ she added 
 after a pause. 
 
 The cure glanced at Laurence. c For God’s sake, calm 
 yourself! ’ he seemed to say. 
 
 Peyrade got up from the floor. The bottom of the box 
 had teen almost burnt out on the coals; it had left a 
 scorched mark on the carpet. The lid was almost reduced 
 
IOI 
 
 The Trials of the Police 
 
 to charcoal by this time ; the sides gave way; and this 
 grotesque Scaevola, who had just sacrificed the seat of his 
 apricot-coloured breeches to the deity of detectives, opened 
 out the casket as if it had been a book. Three letters and 
 two locks of hair slid down upon the baize of the card- 
 table. Peyrade was about to smile significantly at Corentin 
 when he saw that both the locks of hair were almost white. 
 Corentin turned away from Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne, 
 picked up one of the letters, and began to read it. 
 
 Laurence also rose and stood beside the agents at the 
 table. 
 
 4 Oh! read it aloud,’ she said; 4 that shall be your 
 punishment.’ 
 
 And as they continued to read to themselves, Laurence 
 herself took up the third letter and began': — 
 
 4 Dear Laurence, — My husband and I have heard of 
 your noble behaviour on that sad day of our arrest. We 
 know that you love our two darling sons both equally 
 dearly and as much as we love them ourselves, so we are 
 entrusting you with a legacy both sad and dear to them. 
 M. rEx'ecuteur has just cut off our hair, for we are to 
 die in a very few minutes, and he has promised to give 
 these, the only keepsakes that we can give our dearly 
 loved orphans, into your hands. So keep these locks of 
 our hair to give to them in better days. A last kiss and 
 our blessing goes with each. Our last thought will be 
 of our sons, and then of you, and afterwards of God. 
 Love them dearly, Laurence. 
 
 4 Berthe de Cinq^-Cygne. 
 
 4 Jean de Simeuse.’ 
 
 There were tears in all eyes when the letter had been 
 read. 
 
 Laurence turned a stony gaze upon the two agents, and 
 spoke without a tremor in her voice: — 
 
102 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 You have been less merciful than M. /’ Ex'ecuteur ! 9 A 
 
 Corentin quite composedly took the letter, put the locks 
 of hair inside it, and laid it aside on the table with a heap 
 of counters on the top as a paper-weight. There was 
 something dreadful in the man’s coolness amid the general % 
 emotion. Peyrade unfolded the other sheets. 
 
 4 Oh ! as to those,’ said Laurence , 4 they are almost alike. 
 You heard the will read, now you shall see how it was 
 carried into effect. After this my heart will have no secrets 
 left; this is all. 
 
 ‘Andernach, 1794. 
 
 ‘Before the battle . 
 
 4 My dear Laurence, — I shall love you so long as I live, 
 and I want you to know this for certain; but you ought to 
 know in case I should fall, that Paul Marie loves you as I 
 love you. My one comfort if I fall will be the thought * 
 that some day you may take this dear brother of mine for 
 your husband, and I shall not be eaten up with jealousy as 
 I certainly should be if that should happen while we both 
 were alive. After all, it seems to me very natural that you J 
 should like him better, for perhaps he is more worthy than 
 I am . . . .’ and so forth. 
 
 4 Marie Paul/ 
 
 4 Here is the other,’ she went on, while a charming colour 
 flushed her forehead. 
 
 ‘Andernach, 
 
 ‘Before the battle . 
 
 4 My kind Laurence, — There is a tinge of sadness in * 
 my nature; but Marie Paul is so bright and happy that 
 you must care far more for him than for me. Some day, 
 perhaps, you will be obliged to choose between us; well, then 
 — though I love you passionately . . / 
 
 4 You have been in correspondence with emigres ,’ broke 
 in Peyrade, and by way of precaution he held up the letters 
 
The Trials of the Police 103 
 
 to the light to see if anything were written in sympathetic 
 ink between the lines. 
 
 c Yes,’ said Laurence, folding up the precious letters, 
 yellowed by time. 4 But what right have you to force an 
 entrance into my house, to violate the liberty of the subject 
 and all the sacred rights of the hearth ? ’ 
 
 4 Ah, indeed ! ’ said Peyrade. 4 What right ? You shall 
 be informed, fair aristocrat.’ He drew from his pocket, as 
 he spoke, an order from the Minister of Justice, counter¬ 
 signed by the Minister of the Interior. 4 Look you here, 
 citoyenne, the Ministers have taken a notion into their 
 heads-’ 
 
 4 We might ask you what right you have to harbour 
 assassins of the First Consul,’ said Corentin, lowering his 
 voice for her ear. 4 When you struck me just now with 
 your riding-whip, you gave me a right to strike a blow in 
 my turn to despatch my lords your cousins—when I had 
 come to save them.’ 
 
 The cure, watching them, knew what was said by the 
 expression of Laurence’s eyes, and the movement of the 
 lips of the great unknown actor; he made a sign to 
 Laurence to beware. Nobody but Goulard saw the gest¬ 
 ure. Peyrade was tapping the bottom of the box to see if 
 it was hollow. 
 
 4 Ah, God ! ’ cried Laurence, snatching away the lid, c do 
 not break it. Wait! ’ 
 
 She took a pin and pressed it against one of the figures; 
 a spring gave way, the lid came in two, and disclosed two 
 ivory miniatures painted in Germany: the portraits of the 
 Simeuses in the uniforms of the Army of Conde. Corentin, 
 thus confronted by an adversary worthy of his anger, with¬ 
 drew into a corner with Peyrade. There was a whispered 
 conference. 
 
 4 And you threw that on the fire ! ’ said the Abbe Goujet, 
 looking at the old Marquise’s letters and the locks of hair. 
 
 For all answer Laurence shrugged her shoulders sig- 
 
104 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 nificantly. The cure knew that she had made this supreme 
 sacrifice to keep the spies in play and gain time. He raised 
 his eyes in admiration. 
 
 c But where can they have caught Gothard ? I can hear 
 him crying/ she added, loud enough to be heard. 
 
 4 I do not know/ said the cure. 
 
 4 Had he gone to the farm ? 9 
 
 ‘Farm!’ repeated Peyrade. 4 Let us send somebody 
 there.’ 
 
 c No/ returned Corentin; 4 that girl would not have 
 trusted her cousins’ lives to a tenant. She is amusing 
 us. Do as I tell you. We made a blunder when we ^ 
 came here, we will at least find out something before 
 we go.’ 
 
 Corentin went and stood with his back to the fire, and 
 raised his long, pointed coat-tails to warm himself. From ^ 
 his manner, look, and tone, he might have been there on 
 a visit. 
 
 4 Ladies, you may retire to bed, and the servants like¬ 
 wise. M. le Maire, your services are no longer required. J 
 We acted upon strict orders, and could not do otherwise 
 than we have done; but when all the walls, which are 
 very thick, it seems to me, have been examined, we shall 
 g0/ 
 
 The mayor took leave of the company and went. 
 Neither the cure nor Mademoiselle Goujet stirred, and 
 the servants were too anxious not to stay and see what 
 happened to their mistress. Ever since Laurence came 
 into the room, Madame d’Hauteserre, with a despairing ♦ 
 mother’s curious gaze, had been poring on the girl’s 
 face. Now she took Laurence by the arm, and drew 
 her into a corner, murmuring, 4 Have you seen them ? ’ 
 
 4 How could I have allowed your sons to come under * 
 our roof without your knowledge ? ’ returned Laurence. 
 
 4 Durieu/ she added, 4 go and see if it is possible to save 
 my poor Stella; she is still breathing.’ 
 
The Trials of the Police 105 
 
 4 Has she been ridden far ?’ asked Corentin. 
 
 4 Thirty-seven miles in three hours/ said Laurence, 
 addressing her remark to the cure, who gazed at her in 
 dull amazement. 4 1 went out at half-past nine, and it 
 was after one o’clock when I came in.’ 
 
 She looked at the clock as she spoke. It was then 
 half-past two. 
 
 4 Then you do not deny that you have ridden thirty- 
 seven miles ? 9 remarked Corentin. 
 
 4 No,’ said she. 4 1 admit that my cousins and the 
 MM. d’Hauteserre, in their perfect innocence, meant to 
 make application to be included in the amnesty, and they 
 were on their way back to Cinq-Cygne. So as . soon as 
 I had reason to believe that the Sieur Malin meant to 
 implicate them in some treasonable plot, I went to warn 
 them to return to Germany. They will be safely across 
 the frontier before the message can be signalled from 
 Troyes to stop them. If this was a crime, let me be 
 punished for it.’ 
 
 Laurence’s reply had been well thought out; it was 
 so plausible in every respect that Corentin was staggered 
 by it. The Countess watched the agent out of the corner 
 of her eye. Just at this critical moment, when all souls 
 were hanging as it were upon the two faces, and all eyes 
 went from Laurence to Corentin, and from Corentin to 
 Laurence, the sound of a galloping horse reached them 
 from the forest. It grew nearer and nearer, till the rider 
 crossed the bridge and the paved way across the lawn. 
 There was a look of ghastly dread in every face. 
 
 It was Peyrade who came in, his face radiant with de¬ 
 light. He hurried to his colleague, and said, loud enough 
 for the Countess to overhear him : — 
 
 4 We have got Michu ! ’ 
 
 Anguish, physical exhaustion, and the strain upon every 
 mental faculty had brought the red colour to Laurence’s 
 cheeks now she grew white once more, and fell, as if 
 
io6 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 thunder-stricken, half fainting into a chair. La Durieu, * 
 Mademoiselle Goujet, and Madame d’Hauteserre sprang 
 towards her. She gasped for breath. She signed to them 
 to cut the loops of braid that fastened her riding-habit. 
 
 c She was taken in by it. . . . They are on the way to ^ 
 Paris ! ’ said Corentin, conferring with Peyrade. c Let us 
 change the orders.’ 
 
 The pair went out, leaving a gendarme on guard at the 
 door. Their diabolical ingenuity had won them a cruel 
 advantage in this duel; they had ensnared Laurence by a 
 common artifice. 
 
 At six o’clock in the morning, with the first grey light, f 
 the agents of police came back again. They had explored 
 the hollow lane, and convinced themselves that horses had 
 taken the way into the forest. The chateau was guarded 
 by gendarmes under a constable’s order, while they went ^ 
 off to breakfast at the little wine-shop in the village of Cinq- 
 Cygne; but not before orders had been givefi that Cather¬ 
 ine, persistently stolid and silent, and Gothard who replied 
 to every question by an outbreak of tears, should both be * 
 set at liberty. Catherine and Gothard came into the 
 drawing-room, where Laurence was lying in the great low 
 chair, and kissed their mistress’s hands. Durieu came in 
 a while to say that Stella was out of danger, though her 
 condition needed great care. 
 
 The mayor, fidgety and inquisitive, met Peyrade and 
 Corentin in the village. He could not allow government 
 officials of so high a rank to breakfast in a wretched village 
 wine-shop, and brought them home. The Abbey lay # 
 about half a mile away, and on the road thither Peyrade 
 bethought himself that the Arcis constable had not suc¬ 
 ceeded in bringing any news of Michu or Violette. 
 
 c We have no common people to deal with,’ remarked * 
 Corentin. ‘They are too clever for us. The priest has 
 a hand in it, no doubt.’ 
 
 Madame Goulard had just brought her guests into the 
 
The Trials of the Police 107 
 
 vast, fireless dining-hall, when the lieutenant arrived with 
 a scared face. 
 
 c We have just come across the Arcis constable’s horse, 
 riderless in the forest,’ he told Peyrade. 
 
 c Run round to Michu’s lodge, lieutenant! ’ cried Coren- 
 tin. c Find out what is going on there. Perhaps they have 
 killed the constable.’ 
 
 This news spoiled the mayor’s breakfast. Huntsmen 
 eating at a halting-place could not have bolted their pro¬ 
 visions more rapidly than the two Parisians; and the meal 
 over, they drove back to the chateau in their basket-chaise 
 with the post-horse, so as to bear down as quickly as 
 possible upon any point, as it might prove necessary. 
 
 When they entered the drawing-room whither they had 
 suddenly brought trouble and dismay and sorrow, and the 
 most cruel anxiety, they found Laurence, in a loose wrap¬ 
 per, old M. d’Hauteserre and his wife, and the Abbe 
 Goujet and his sister, all seated about the fire, and to all 
 appearance, quiet in their minds. 
 
 c If they had really caught Michu they would have 
 brought him in,’ Laurence had said to herself. c It is 
 mortifying to think that I lost my self-command, and 
 threw a light on those wretches’ suspicions; but all can be 
 put right again. Are we going to be your prisoners for 
 long ? ’ she asked aloud, with a satirical, careless air. 
 
 The two spies exchanged glances. 
 
 c How can she know something of our uneasiness about 
 Michu ? Nobody outside could get into the chateau. She 
 is making fools of us,’ their looks seemed to say. 
 
 ‘We shall not trouble you with our presence much 
 longer,’ returned Corentin. c In three hours’ time we will 
 make our apologies for disturbing your solitude.’ 
 
 Nobody answered him. The contemptuous silence 
 exasperated Corentin’s inward fury. Laurence and the 
 abbe, the two intellects of this little group, had exchanged 
 views of Corentin to their mutual edification. Catherine 
 
108 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 and Gothard set the table by the fire, and the cure and his 
 sister joined the family at breakfast. Neither they nor 
 their servants paid the slightest attention to the spies, and 
 Corentin and Peyrade walked up and down in the gardens, % 
 in the court, and along the road, returning now and again 
 to the drawing-room. 
 
 At half-past two o’clock the lieutenant put in an appear¬ 
 ance. * 
 
 4 I have found the constable,’ he reported to Corentin; 
 
 4 he was lying on the road between the Cinq-Cygne lodge, 
 as they call it, and Bellache. He had no wound except a 
 frightful cut on the head ; it looked as if he had got it with , 
 that fall. He was knocked backwards off* his horse so sud¬ 
 denly that he cannot explain how it happened, he says. 
 His feet slipped out of the stirrups or he would have been 
 dead by now; his horse took fright and might have dragged r 
 him along the ground. We left him in charge of Michu 
 and Violette-’ 
 
 4 What! Is Michu at the lodge?’ asked Corentin, 
 watching Laurence as he spoke. The Countess smiled t 
 shrewdly to herself, a woman’s retaliation. 
 
 4 He and Violette began bargaining last night, and when 
 I saw him they were near the finish,’ said the lieutenant. 
 
 4 They were both of them a bit flustered, it seemed to me, J 
 and no wonder; they have been making a night of it together 
 and have not managed to hit it off yet.’ 
 
 4 Did Violette tell you so ? ’ cried Corentin. 
 
 4 Yes.’ 
 
 4 Ah ! if you want a thing done you must do it yourself! ’ * 
 said Peyrade, looking at Corentin, who seemed to share his 
 poor opinion of the lieutenant’s intelligence, and nodded 
 assent to his serious remark. 
 
 4 When did you reach Michu’s place?’ asked Corentin. * 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne had glanced at the clock, and 
 this fact had not been lost upon him. 
 
 ‘Somewhere about two o’clock,’ the lieutenant replied. 
 
The Trials of the Police 109 
 
 Laurence included Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre, 
 the Abbe Goujet and his sister in one glance, that seemed 
 to envelop them in a mantle of blue light; the joy of tri¬ 
 umph glittered in her eyes ; there was colour in her cheeks; 
 there were tears beneath her lashes. The girl that had been 
 so strong to endure could shed no tears but tears of gladness. 
 She was transfigured for them, especially for the cure; he 
 , had been almost vexed by Laurence’s masculine strength 
 of character; now he saw the woman’s exceeding tender¬ 
 ness. Laurence’s sensibilities lay like hidden treasure in 
 some unfathomed depths beneath a block of granite. 
 
 A gendarme came to ask whether Michu’s son was to be 
 allowed to come in; he had brought a message from his 
 father to the gentlemen from Paris. Corentin nodded. 
 Francois Michu, a sharp boy, and a chip of the old block, 
 was outside in the yard meanwhile; and Gothard, now at 
 liberty, had time to exchange a word or two with him under 
 the gendarme’s nose. That functionary did not observe that 
 the boy slipped something into Gothard’s hand; and so lit¬ 
 tle Michu accomplished his errand. Gothard stole in be¬ 
 hind Francois, reached Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne, and 
 with an innocent air gave her back both halves of the 
 broken ring. Laurence kissed it with passionate fervour; 
 she knew now that Michu had redeemed his word and that 
 the four nobles were in safety. Meanwhile Francis was 
 delivering his message. 
 
 ‘ Dad wants to know what to do with the constable; he 
 is in a bad way.’ 
 
 ‘ What is the matter with him ? ’ asked Peyrade. 
 
 ‘ It’s his head ; he came a cropper though and no mistake. 
 For a gindarme as knows how to ride a horse, that is bad 
 luck, but he must have stumbled ! There is a hole, oh! 
 6 as big as your fist at the back of his head. Seems that it 
 was his luck to come down on a nasty flint. Poor man ! 
 Much good his being a gindarme does him; he suffers all 
 the same, till it makes you sorry to see it.’ 
 
no A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 The captain from Troyes rode into the courtyard, dis¬ 
 mounted, and beckoned to Corentin. Corentin rushed to 
 the window and flung it open to save time. 
 
 4 What is the matter ? ’ t 
 
 4 We have come back like Dutchmen !’ he said. c Five 
 horses have been found ridden to death, hair stiff with 
 sweat, right in the middle of the main avenue through the 
 forest. I have had them kept so that we may find out # 
 where they came from and who supplied them. There is 
 a cordon round the forest; nobody inside can get out now.’ 
 
 4 When do you think these horsemen came into the forest ? ’ 
 
 4 At half-past twelve at noon.’ * 
 
 4 Don’t let a hare leave unseen,’ said Corentin, lowering 
 his voice. 4 1 will leave Peyrade here, and go to see the 
 constable, poor fellow, directly.’ Then turning to Peyrade, 
 
 4 Stop at the mayor’s house; I will send a sharp man to re- % 
 lieve you,’ he added. 4 We must make use of the people 
 hereabouts ; notice all the faces there.’ 
 
 Then he turned to the company. ^Au revoir! ’ he ex¬ 
 claimed, with an appalling ring in his voice. Nobody spoke 
 or moved when the agents of police went out. 
 
 4 A fruitless domiciliary visit! what will Fouche say?’ 
 exclaimed Peyrade, as he handed Corentin into the basket- 
 chaise. - 
 
 4 Oh ! all is not over,’ returned Corentin, in his associ¬ 
 ate’s ear; 4 the Simeuses are sure to be in the forest.’ 
 
 • Laurence was standing in one of the great windows of 
 the dining-room, looking out at them through the small 
 square panes. Corentin glanced significantly towards her. 3 
 4 There was another once that was at least her equal,’ he 
 said. 4 She stirred my bile too much, and I did for her. If 
 this one falls into my power again I will pay her out for 
 that cut with the whip.’ 
 
 4 The other 1 was an adventuress,’ said Peyrade, 4 and 
 this one is-’ 
 
 1 See Les Chouam . 
 
Ill 
 
 The Trials of the Police 
 
 4 Does that make any difference to me ? All are fish in 
 the sea/ said Corentin, with a sign to the gendarme to whip 
 up the post-horse. 
 
 Ten minutes later the chateau was completely and entirely 
 evacuated. 
 
 4 How was the constable got out of the way ? 9 asked 
 Laurence of Francois Michu. She had food brought for 
 him and made him sit beside her. 
 
 4 Father and mother said that it was a matter of life and 
 death, and that nobody was to come into the house. So I 
 knew, when I heard horses going about in the forest, that I 
 had to do with those beastly gendarmes, and I tried to keep 
 them from coming to us. I brought down some thick cord 
 out of our garret, and tied it firmly to a tree just at the 
 opening of each way. And while I was about it I tied the 
 cord high up so as to catch a man on horseback across 
 the chest, and left the other end loose till I heard a horse 
 come galloping down one of the roads. Then I made the 
 end fast to the tree opposite, and the road was barred. It 
 fell out all right. The moon had set, the constable came 
 a cropper, but he was not killed. What can you expect ? 
 They are so tough, are gendarmes. After all, one does what 
 one can/ 
 
 4 You saved us ! * Laurence said, giving the child a kiss. 
 She went with him as far as the gate, and then looking 
 round to make sure that no one was near, she whispered, 
 
 4 Have they provisions ? 9 
 
 4 1 have just taken them a twelve-pound loaf and four 41 
 bottles of wine. They will keep close for six days/ 
 
 Laurence went back to the drawing-room. Monsieur 
 and Madame d’Hauteserre, the Abbe Goujet and his sister, 
 looked at her with questioning eyes in which anxiety and 
 admiration were equally blended. 
 
 4 Have you really seen them again ? * cried Madame 
 d’Hauteserre. 
 
 But Laurence, smiling, laid a finger on her lips, and 
 
11 2 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 went upstairs to bed. When once the victory was won, 
 weariness overcame her. 
 
 The shortest way from Cinq-Cygne to Michu’s lodge 
 was by the road from the village to Bellache ; it debouched 
 upon the circular space where the detectives first appeared 
 to Michu, on the previous evening. The Arcis constable 
 had come this way, and the gendarmes now brought f 
 Corentin over the same ground. The agent, as he went, 
 was on the lookout for any trace of the means by which 
 the constable was thrown out of the saddle. He rated 
 himself for sending a single man to clear up so important 
 a point, and drew an axiom from the experience to incor¬ 
 porate in a code which he was compiling for his own I 
 private use. 
 
 c If they put the gendarme out of the way,’ thought he, ^ 
 c they will have got rid of Violette as well. The five dead 
 horses evidently brought back Michu and the four con¬ 
 spirators from the neighbourhood of Paris. Has M’chu 
 a horse ? ’ he asked, turning to the gendarme, who hap- . 
 pened to belong to the Arcis contingent. 
 
 c Ah ! yes, and a famous nag it is; a hunter out of the 
 ci-devant Marquis’s stables. Fifteen years old and only 
 the better for age. Michu will ride thirty miles and more, 
 and the animal’s hide will be as dry as my hat. Oh 1 he 
 thinks a lot of his horse; he won’t take money for it.’ 
 c What is the horse like ? ’ 
 
 c A dark bay, spotted with white about the feet. A 
 thin animal, all muscle, like an Arab.’ * 
 
 c Have you seen Arabian horses ? ’ 
 
 c I came back from Egypt a year ago. I have ridden 
 the Mamelukes’ horses. You serve eleven years ifi the 
 cavalry. I crossed the Rhine with General Steingel, then * 
 
 I was in Italy, and I followed the First Consul in Egypt. 
 
 So I shall be a corporal soon.’ 
 
 c While I am in Michu’s lodge, just go round to the 
 
The Trials of the Police 113 
 
 stable. If you have lived among horses for eleven years 
 you ought to know when a horse has been ridden hard.’ 
 
 c There ! that is where our corporal was thrown/ said 
 the man, pointing to the spot where the road emerged into 
 the open space. 
 
 c Tell the captain to call for me at the lodge here, and 
 we will go together back to Troyes.’ 
 
 Corentin alighted, and spent several minutes in observ¬ 
 ing the place. He scrutinised the elm-trees that stood on 
 either side. One grew close beside the park wall, the 
 other on the high boundary bank of the circle, which was 
 intersected at this point by the cross-road. And at length 
 Corentin saw something which every one else had passed 
 over, to wit, a button lying in the dust, a button from a 
 gendarme’s uniform. He picked it up. As he entered 
 the lodge, he beheld Violette and Michu sitting at the 
 kitchen table. The dispute was still unfinished. Violette 
 got up, made a bow, and offered Corentin some wine. 
 
 c Thanks. . . . I should like to see the corporal,’returned 
 Corentin. He saw at a glance that Violette had been drunk 
 for more than twelve hours. 
 
 c My wife is nursing him upstairs,’ said Michu. Coren- ^ 
 tin sprang up the staircase, and found the gendarme lying 
 on Madame Michu’s bed, his head covered with poultices. 
 The man’s cap, sword, and shoulder-belt lay on a chair. 
 Marthe, all unaware of her son’s prowess, was true to her 
 woman’s instinct; she and her mother were nursing the 
 wounded man. 
 
 c Well, corporal, how are you doing?’ asked Corentin. 
 
 C M. Varlet, the Arcis doctor, is expected,’ Madame 
 Michu replied. c Gaucher has gone to fetch him.’ 
 
 c Leave us a moment,’ said Corentin, feeling not a little 
 surprised by this scene, for the women’s innocence was 
 obvious. c Where were you hit ? ’ he asked, looking at the 
 man’s uniform. 
 c In the chest.’ 
 
 H 
 
114 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 Let us have a look at your shoulder-belt.’ 
 
 A yellow leather belt with white pipings formed part of 
 the uniform of the 4 National Gendarmes,’ as they used to 
 be called, a recent law having prescribed the costume and ^ 
 regulated it down to the smallest details. On the belt was 
 a plate similar to the one at present worn by rural police¬ 
 men, with the singular legend engraved duly upon it, 1 Re¬ 
 spect individuals and property.’ The cord, of course, had ^ 
 left a deep score across the belt. Corentin took up the 
 coat and found the place of the missing button. 
 
 4 When did they pick you up ? ’ he asked. 
 
 4 Why, at daybreak.’ 
 
 4 Did they bring you up here at once ? ’ continued 
 Corentin, noticing that the bed had not been slept in. 
 
 4 Yes.’ 
 
 4 Who brought you up ? ’ f 
 
 4 The women and Michu’s boy; he found me lying * 
 unconscious.’ 
 
 c Good ! ’ thought Corentin to himself. 4 Then they 
 were up all night. It is clear that the corporal was not J 
 knocked off his horse by a bullet, nor yet by a blow from 
 a stick; for in that case the man that dealt the blow must 
 have been on horseback and on a level with him. So he 
 must have been disarmed by something put across the road. 
 A piece of wood ? Impossible. An iron chain ? It would* 
 have left marks. What did you feel ? ’ he asked aloud, 
 scrutinising the corporal as he spoke. 
 
 4 I was knocked off so suddenly-’ 
 
 c The skin is grazed under your chin.’ 4 
 
 4 It seems to me that a rope sawed me across the face.’ 
 
 4 1 have it,’ said Corentin. 4 Somebody tied a rope 
 across the road to stop you-’ 
 
 4 Very likely,’ returned the corporal. * 
 
 Corentin went down into the kitchen. 
 
 4 Come, old scoundrel, let us have done with it! ’ Michu 
 was saying; he spoke to Violette, and looked at the spy. 
 
The Trials of the Police 115 
 
 4 A hundred and twenty thousand francs in all, and my 
 land is yours. I shall put the money in the funds and be 
 independent.’ 
 
 4 As there is but one God, I have only sixty thousand, I 
 tell you.’ 
 
 4 But when I offer you time for the rest! And here we 
 have been bargaining since yesterday and cannot come to 
 terms ! . . . There is no better land anywhere.’ 
 
 4 My land is good,’ retorted Violette. 
 
 4 Wife, bring us some wine ! ’ cried Michu. 
 
 c What, haven’t you had enough to drink ? ’ called 
 Marthe’s mother. 4 This is the fourteenth bottle since 
 nine o’clock yesterday.’ 
 
 4 Have you been here since nine o’clock this morning ? ’ 
 said Corentin, turning on Violette. 
 
 c No, asking your pardon. I haven’t stirred from the 
 place since nine o’clock yesterday night, and I am none 
 the nearer the end. The more he makes me drink, the 
 more he wants for his land.’ 
 
 4 In making a bargain, you raise the price every time you 
 raise your elbow,’ said Corentin. 
 
 A dozen empty bottles at the end of the table bore out 
 the truth of the old grandmother’s statement. Just at that 
 moment the gendarme outside beckoned to Corentin. 
 
 4 There is no horse in the stable,’ he said in a low voice, 
 when they stood on the threshold. Corentin went in 
 again. 
 
 4 You have sent your boy to town on horseback, I ex¬ 
 pect,’ he remarked, 4 so he will be back again before long.’ 
 
 4 No, sir,’ said Marthe; c he has gone on foot.’ 
 
 4 Well, then, what have you done with your horse?’ 
 
 4 Lent him,’ Michu answered curtly. 
 
 4 Come you here, my good apostle,’ said Corentin, beck¬ 
 oning to the bailiff. 4 1 have a word or two to slip down 
 your ear-tube.’ 
 
 Corentin and Michu went out together 
 
116 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 ‘That rifle that you were loading yesterday at four 
 o’clock was meant to kill the State Councillor. Grevin 
 saw you, but you cannot be nabbed for that; there was 
 plenty of malice aforethought, but witnesses are scarce. t 
 You put Violette to sleep, I do not know how, and you 
 and your wife and boy spent the night out of doors: 
 first, to warn Mademoiselle Cinq-Cygne of our coming, 
 and afterwards to rescue her cousins. You brought them , 
 back here, I do not know where as yet. Your boy and 
 your wife brought down the corporal cleverly enough. In 
 fact, you have beaten us. You are a famous, fine fellow. 
 But the last word has not been said, and we shall not leave 
 you to say it. Will you come to terms ? Your masters 
 will not be losers by it.’ 
 
 4 Come this way; we can talk without being overheard,’ 
 returned Michu ; and he led the spy as far as the pond in < 
 the park. When Corentin saw the sheet of water, he 
 looked Michu steadily in the eyes. Michu, no doubt, 
 counted on his great physical strength to heave his com¬ 
 panion into seven feet of mud below three feet of water. 
 Michu looked back at him quite as steadily. Just so might 
 some tawny-red Brazilian jaguar have gazed defiantly at a 
 cold-blooded, flaccid boa-constrictor. 
 
 4 I am not thirsty,’ remarked Corentin. He stood on 
 the edge of the meadow, and his hand travelled down into 
 a side pocket for the little dagger. 
 
 l We cannot come to an understanding,’ Michu re¬ 
 marked indifferently. 
 
 4 Mind how you behave yourself, my dear fellow. Jus¬ 
 tice will keep an eye on you.’ 
 
 4 If Justice sees no better than you do, nobody is safe.’ 
 
 4 Do you refuse ? ’ Corentin asked significantly. 
 
 4 1 would sooner have my throat cut a hundred times 
 over, than have an understanding with such a rascal as 
 you.’ 
 
 Corentin stepped briskly into the chaise after scanning 
 
The Trials of the Police 117 
 
 Michu, the lodge, and Couraut, who barked after him 
 He left orders of some kind in Troyes and returned to 
 Paris. Secret instructions and orders were issued to all 
 the brigades of gendarmerie. 
 
 The search was kept up diligently and unremittingly in 
 every little hamlet through the months of December, Janu¬ 
 ary, and February. Ears were listening in every little pub¬ 
 lic house. Three important things Corentin discovered. 
 A horse answering to the description of Michu’s nag was 
 found dead near Lagny. The five horses buried in the 
 Forest of Nodesme had been sold for five hundred francs 
 apiece by various farmers and millers to a man who evi¬ 
 dently must have been Michu. When the law was passed 
 against Georges’s accomplices and those who harboured 
 them, Corentin narrowed the police supervision to the 
 Forest of Nodesme, and later, after the arrest of Pichegru 
 and Moreau, the strange faces disappeared from the country¬ 
 side. 
 
 By that time Michu had lost his place. The Arcis 
 notary brought instructions in writing from State Coun¬ 
 cillor Malin (now a senator) authorizing Grevin to re¬ 
 ceive the bailiff’s accounts, and to give him notice to quit. 
 In three days’ time Michu obtained his discharge in due 
 form, and became his own master. To the no small 
 astonishment of the country-side, he took up his abode at 
 Cinq-Cygne, and managed the farms on all the reserves of 
 the chateau for Laurence. The day of his installation was 
 the fatal day of the Due d’Enghien’s execution. Almost 
 all over France men heard simultaneously of the Prince’s 
 capture, trial, sentence, and death ; the dreadful reprisals 
 which preceded the trials of Polignac, Riviere, and Moreau. 
 
II 
 
 CORENTIN’S REVENGE 
 
 A farm-house was to be built for Michu, but in the 
 meantime the so-called Judas was lodged in the outbuild¬ 
 ing above the stables, close to the famous breach in the 
 fosse. Michu bought two horses, one for himself and one 
 for little Francois, for they, as well as Gothard, now went 
 everywhere with Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne. People 
 think nowadays that she used to take supplies to the four 
 nobles, and to see that they wanted for nothing. Francois 
 and Gothard, with Couraut and the Countess’s hunting 
 dogs, kept watch over the neighbourhood of the hiding- 
 place, to make sure that there was nobody within range, 
 while Laurence and Michu carried provisions prepared by 
 Marthe and her mother to Catherine without the knowl¬ 
 edge of the servants. The secret was known to very few 
 persons, for not a soul could doubt that there were spies in 
 the village. 
 
 So, from motives of prudence, this expedition was never 
 made oftener than twice in a week, and always at different 
 hours, sometimes in the daytime, sometimes at night; nor 
 did Laurence and Michu relax their vigilance during the 
 trials of Polignac, Riviere, and Moreau. When a decree 
 of the Senate called the Bonaparte family to the Imperial 
 dignity, and Napoleon’s nomination as Emperor was sub¬ 
 mitted to the French people, M. d’Hauteserre gave his 
 signature to the memorial presented to him by Goulard. 
 At length it was known that the Pope would anoint and 
 crown Napoleon; and thenceforth when it was proposed 
 
 118 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 119 
 
 that the Simeuses and the young d’Hauteserres should 
 make petition to be struck off the List of emigres , and 
 to recover their citizens’ rights, Mademoiselle de Cinq- 
 Cygne made no objection. 
 
 Old d’Hauteserre hurried off to Paris forthwith, and 
 obtained an interview with the ci-devant Marquis de 
 Chargeboeuf, a personal acquaintance of M. de Talley¬ 
 rand’s. The Prince de Talleyrand was then in favour; 
 he undertook that the petition should reach Josephine, and 
 Josephine laid it before her husband. Bonaparte was 
 already called Emperor, Sire, and your Majesty, though the 
 results of the ballot were not yet known. M. de Charge¬ 
 boeuf, M. d’Hauteserre, and the Abbe Goujet (who like¬ 
 wise had come to Paris) obtained audience of Talleyrand, 
 and a promise of his support. Napoleon had already 
 pardoned the principal actors in the great Royalist con¬ 
 spiracy against him, and the four gentlemen of the petition 
 were merely suspected of complicity; yet when the Council 
 of State rose, the Emperor summoned Malin, Fouche, 
 Talleyrand, Cambaceres, Lebrun, and Dubois, the Prefect 
 of Police, into his cabinet. 
 
 c Gentlemen,’ began the future Emperor, still in the 
 dress of the First Consul, c gentlemen, we have received a 
 memorial from the Sieurs de Simeuse and d’Hauteserre, 
 officers in the Army of Conde, praying for an authorisation 
 to return to France.’ 
 
 c They are in France now,’ said Fouche. 
 
 c So are hundreds of others that I come across in Paris,’ 
 remarked Talleyrand. 
 
 c You have never come across these , I think,’ returned 
 Malin, Tor they are in hiding in the Forest of Nodesme, 
 and feel quite at home there.’ 
 
 Malin was very careful not to inform either the First 
 Consul or Fouche of those few words that had saved his 
 life; but relying entirely upon Corentin’s reports, he con¬ 
 vinced the Council that the four nobles were implicated in 
 
120 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 the Riviere and Polignac affair, and that Michu had been 
 privy to it. His assertions were corroborated by the 
 Prefect of Police. 
 
 c But how came this bailiff to know that the plot was « 
 discovered, when no one was in the secret save the 
 Emperor, his councillors, and I myself?’ asked Dubois, 
 but nobody paid any attention to him. 
 
 c If they are in hiding in a forest and you have been « 
 looking for them for seven months,’ said Napoleon, ad¬ 
 dressing Fouche, ‘they have indeed expiated their sins ! ’ 
 
 Malin was alarmed by Dubois’s clearsightedness. ‘They 
 are my personal enemies,’ he said; ‘ that is enough, I follow 
 your Majesty’s example; so I petition that their names 
 may be struck off the list, and intercede with your Majesty 
 for them.’ 
 
 ‘ They will be less dangerous for you as citizens than as < 
 emigres ,’ observed Fouche, looking steadily at Malin; ‘for 
 they will take the oath to uphold the Constitution under 
 the Empire and to obey the laws.’ 
 
 ‘ In what way are they dangerous to M. le Senateur ? ” J 
 asked Napoleon. 
 
 The Prince de Talleyrand, on this, spoke for some time 
 in a low voice with the future Emperor, and to all appear¬ 
 ance the petition was granted; the MM. de Simeuse and 
 d’Hauteserre were to be struck out from the List of 
 emigres and reinstated as citizens. 
 
 c Sire,’ said Fouche, c you may hear of them again.’ 
 
 At the instance of the Due de Grandlieu, Talleyrand had 
 promised on behalf of the four young men, that on the 
 honour of a noble — a formula which exerted a great 
 influence over Napoleon—they would attempt nothing 
 against the Emperor, and make their submission without 
 reservation. 
 
 ‘The MM. d’Hauteserre and de Simeuse have no 
 wish to bear arms against France after the recent events. 
 They have not much sympathy with the Imperial Gov- 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 121 
 
 ernment; they are people whom your Majesty must win 
 over; but they will be content to live as law-abiding 
 citizens on French soil,’ said the Minister. And he 
 laid a letter expressing these views before Napoleon’s 
 eyes. 
 
 c Anything so outspoken must be sincere,’ said the 
 Emperor, glancing at Cambaceres and Lebrun. c Have you 
 any objections left ? ’ he added, turning to Fouche. 
 
 <■ In your Majesty’s interests, I ask permission to send 
 these gentlemen the formal announcement of the erasure 
 of their names,’ replied the future Minister of Police, 
 adding aloud, ‘when it shall be definitely granted, 
 
 c So be it,’ said Napoleon. He thought that Fouche 
 looked dissatisfied. 
 
 So the little council broke up, and the affair apparently 
 was not at an end; one result of it was that a vague 
 suspicion was associated with the names of the exiles in 
 Napoleon’s memory. 
 
 M. d’Hauteserre, sure of success, had written home to 
 tell the good news, and the inmates of Cinq-Cygne con¬ 
 sequently were not surprised when Goulard came a few 
 days later to bid Madame d’Hauteserre and Laurence send 
 the exiles to Troyes, where the Prefect would take their 
 oath of allegiance to the Empire and the laws, and hand 
 over the decree which reinstated them in their civic rights* 
 Laurence told the mayor that she would send notice to her 
 cousins and the two d’Hauteserres. 
 
 c Then they are not here ? ’ remarked Goulard. 
 
 Madame d’Hauteserre looked up with an anxious face as 
 Laurence left the mayor and went to take counsel with 
 Michu. Michu saw no objection to the immediate en¬ 
 largement of the exiles \ so Laurence, with the Michus and 
 Gothard, rode out into the forest, taking an extra horse 
 with them, for the Countess meant to accompany her 
 cousins to Troyes, and afterwards home to the chateau. 
 All the servants heard the good news, and were out 
 
122 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 upon the lawn to watch the departure of the happy 
 cavalcade. 
 
 The four young men left their hiding-place, mounted 
 their horses without being seen, and took the road to ^ 
 Troyes, Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne riding with them. 
 Michu, meanwhile, with Gothard and Francois to help 
 him, blocked up the mouth of the cave, and the three 
 returned on foot; but on the way it occurred to Michu 4 
 that the spoons and forks and a silver goblet which his 
 masters had in use had been forgotten. He went back 
 alone to look for them. 
 
 He had reached the margin of the pool, when he heard 
 voices in the hole, and went straight to the opening among 
 the bushes. 
 
 4 You have come back to look for your plate, no doubt! ’ 
 
 It was Peyrade’s voice; it was Peyrade’s big red face * 
 grinning at him through the leaves. 
 
 A sudden pang seemed to shoot through every joint in 
 Michu’s body, so intense was the vague, indefinite fore¬ 
 boding, the premonition of coming trouble; he could not 4 
 account for it; the young Simeuses were in safety at last. 
 He came forward, however, and met Corentin on the steps 
 with a tallow dip in his hand. 
 
 4 We are not spiteful,’ said this person; c we might have 
 nabbed your ci-devants a week ago, but we knew their 
 names were taken off the List. . . . You are an uncom¬ 
 monly knowing dog! And you gave us so much trouble 
 that at least we must satisfy our curiosity.’ 
 
 4 1 would give something to know for how much we 1 
 were sold and who sold us,’ cried Michu. 
 
 4 If that tickles your curiosity so much, my boy,’ said 
 Peyrade, with a smile, 4 look at your horses’ shoes, and you 
 will see that you have betrayed yourselves.’ 
 
 4 No malice,’ added Corentin, beckoning the captain of 
 gendarmes to come up with the horses. 
 
 4 That miserable smith from Paris who shod horses so 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 123 
 
 well in the English fashion, and has left Cinq-Cygne since, 
 was in their pay,’ exclaimed Michu. c They had only to 
 send one of their people, disguised as a faggot-cutter or 
 a poacher, to follow up the tracks of our horses when it 
 was damp, after the man had put those nails in the shoes. 
 We are quits.’ 
 
 Michu pretty soon took comfort; he bethought himself 
 that now, when the gentlemen were Frenchmen again and 
 at liberty, the discovery of the hiding-place could do them 
 no harm. And yet his forebodings were well founded. 
 The police and the Jesuits have this virtue — they never 
 forget their friends nor their enemies. 
 
 Old d’Hauteserre came back from Paris, and not a little 
 surprised was he to find the good news arrived before him. 
 Durieu made ready the most succulent of dinners. The 
 servants wore their best clothes; the whole household 
 waited impatiently for the exiles, and towards four o’clock 
 they came home, joyful yet humiliated, for they were to 
 be under the supervision of the police authorities for two 
 years. The whole of that time they must be resident in 
 the commune of Cinq-Cygne, while they were bound to 
 report themselves every month at the prefecture. 
 
 c I will send you the register to sign,’ the Prefect had 
 said. c Then in a few months’ time you can make applica¬ 
 tion for a remission of the conditions, which were imposed 
 at the same time on all Pichegru’s accomplices. I will 
 support your demand.’ 
 
 These restrictions, though well enough merited, had a 
 little damped the young people’s spirits. But Laurence 
 burst out laughing. 
 
 c The Emperor of the French,’ she said, c was not very 
 well brought up; he is not accustomed yet to pardon.’ 
 
 When the party reached the iron gate, they found every 
 one from the chateau there to meet them, as well as a 
 goodly proportion of the folk from the village waiting 
 upon the road to see the young nobles; for the fame of 
 
124 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 their adventures filled the department. Madame d’Haute- 
 serre held her sons for a long time in her arms; it was 
 a tearful face that she turned upon them all; she could 
 say nothing, and sat, overcome but happy, for a good while ^ 
 that evening. 
 
 As soon as the twin brothers appeared and dismounted, 
 there was a general cry of surprise, so astonishingly alike 
 were they, — the same expression, the same voice, the same ✓ 
 tricks of manner. They rose in the saddle, flung a leg 
 over the crupper, and threw back the bridle, to dismount 
 as if by one accord; and seemed the more like a genuine 
 pair of Menechmes because they were dressed exactly alike. 
 They wore boots a la Suwaroff, fitting closely over the 
 instep ; tight, white doeskin breeches, green shooting jackets 
 with metal buttons, black cravats, and doeskin gloves. They 
 were c charming cavaliers/ as the saying went in those , 
 days, were these two young men of thirty-one. Of average 
 height, but well set-up, they had shapely foreheads, dark hair, 
 swarthy pale faces, and bright eyes, liquid as the eyes of 
 children, beneath the fringe of long lashes. Their speech, * 
 gentle as a woman’s, fell graciously from their shapely red 
 lips. Their manners, finer and more polished than the 
 manners of the country noblesse, showed that a knowledge 
 of men and the world had been for them a second educa¬ 
 tion, more important even than the first in the making of 
 an accomplished gentleman. 
 
 Thanks to Michu they had never wanted money; they 
 had been able to travel, they had been well received at 
 foreign courts. Old M. d’Hauteserre and the abbe thought 1 
 their manner somewhat lofty, but in their position this was 
 perhaps the result of a lofty nature. And while in many 
 little ways it was evident that they had received a careful 
 education, they excelled also in all physical exercises. 
 
 The only difference that could be seen in them was a 
 difference of temperament. The gayety of the younger 
 was as charming as the tinge of melancholy in the older 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 125 
 
 brother; but even this contrast was one simply of mental 
 attitude, and only perceptible after a long intimacy. 
 
 c Ah ! my girl,’ Michu said in Marthe’s ear, c how could 
 one help being devoted to those two lads ? ’ 
 
 And Marthe, looking with eyes of feminine and moth¬ 
 erly admiration, gave her husband a charming little nod 
 and squeezed his hand. The servants were permitted 
 to embrace their new masters. 
 
 Many times during the seven months of hiding, the 
 four gentlemen had walked abroad; it was a piece of 
 necessary imprudence; and Michu, his son, and Gothard 
 were always on the watch. During those walks, by the 
 light of starlit nights, Laurence had connected the present 
 with the past of their common life, and felt the impossi¬ 
 bility of choosing between the brothers. An unselfish 
 love for them both was equally strong in her. It seemed 
 to her that she had two hearts. And Marie Paul and Paul 
 Marie had not dared to speak of the now imminent rivalry. 
 Perhaps, as yet, all three of them had left chance to de¬ 
 cide ; but Laurence evidently felt the position of their 
 minds, for after an instant of visible hesitation she gave 
 an arm to both brothers and went towards the salon, 
 followed by Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre, who 
 clung about their sons, plying them with questions. The 
 servants sent up a shout of c Long live the Cinq-Cygnes 
 and the Simeuses ! ’ 
 
 And Laurence, standing between the brothers, turned 
 to thank them with a charming gesture. 
 
 When these nine people began to observe one another 
 — for after every meeting even of members of the same 
 family, the time comes when they all begin to notice the 
 changes made by long absence — Adrien’s first glance at 
 Laurence made it clear to his mother and the abbe, who 
 happened to see it, that the young man was in love with 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne. Adrien was the younger 
 
1 26 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 d’Hauteserre. His nature was gentle and kindly, and in 
 spite of the catastrophes that had tried the man, he had 
 still a boy’s heart. In this respect he was like a great 
 many military men; a life of continual peril leaves no 
 space for love ; and the bashfulness that becomes youth 
 so well, weighed upon the man of thirty. Adrien was a 
 complete contrast to his brother, a rough-looking man, 
 a mighty hunter and valorous soldier, resolute but heavy 
 and matter-of-fact, lacking in mental quickness as in 
 refinement of feeling. The life of the one was contem¬ 
 plative, that of the other active; yet both were men of 
 honour according to their rank in life 0 
 
 Yet Adrien d’Hauteserre, dark-haired, short, slight, and 
 spare, gave the impression of great strength, while his tall, 
 big, fair-haired brother looked like a weakling. Adrien 
 was of nervous temperament; he possessed strength of 
 soul, while his lymphatic brother Robert delighted in 
 trials of muscular force. Interesting though it might 
 be to inquire into the causes of a freak of nature not 
 unfrequently seen in family histories, the fact can merely 
 be touched upon here by way of explanation of the fact 
 that Adrien had no rival to fear in his brother. 
 
 Robert’s feeling toward Laurence was made up of a 
 cousin’s affection and a noble’s respect for a young woman 
 belonging to his own order. As for his manner of regard¬ 
 ing women, Robert d’Hauteserre belonged to that section 
 of mankind who hold that woman is a kind of appendage 
 to man, and that the function of maternity is purely physi¬ 
 cal. They look for physical perfections in full measure, 
 and count a woman as naught. To consider a woman as 
 anything but a cipher socially, politically, and in the family, 
 according to these authorities, would turn society upside 
 down. In these days we have travelled so far from the 
 views held by society in its primitive state, that even 
 though a woman may not wish for the insidious liberty 
 offered her by diverse new sects, she may well be scandalised 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 127 
 
 ■ 
 
 by such opinions; but Robert d’Hauteserre had the mis¬ 
 fortune to hold them. Robert belonged to the Dark Ages ; 
 Adrien to the Nineteenth Century. These differences, so 
 far from estranging the brothers, drew them more closely 
 together. The cure, Mademoiselle Goujet, and Madame 
 d’Hauteserre discerned and grasped the significance of 
 the shades of character in the course of the evening 
 over their game at boston. Even now they saw difficul¬ 
 ties ahead. 
 
 At twenty-three years of age, after a life of solitary 
 thought, after the anguish of the failure of a vast political 
 project, Laurence became a woman again. She felt a great 
 craving for affection; she brought all the charm of her 
 mind into play; she was enchanting with the unconscious¬ 
 ness of a girl of fifteen; she showed how fascinating she 
 could be in her tenderness. For the last thirteen years 
 she had been a woman only through a woman’s suffering. 
 Now the lost years should be made good for her. She 
 would show herself loving and coquettish, as hitherto she 
 had been strong and great. 
 
 The four old people stayed on in the salon till every 
 one else had gone, and shook their heads over this new 
 phase in a charming maiden. What possibilities of pas¬ 
 sion might there not be in a girl of her temper and nobility ? 
 Both brothers loved the same woman equally well and 
 equally blindly. Which of the two would Laurence 
 choose? Would the other die of a broken heart? 
 
 Laurence was a countess in her own right. She would 
 bring her husband a title, great privileges, an old illustri¬ 
 ous name. Perhaps the Marquis de Simeuse, remembering 
 this, would sacrifice himself for the sake of his brother, a 
 I poor and untitled younger son by the old law. But would 
 the younger consent to accept the sacrifice of so great 
 a happiness as the right of calling Laurence his wife ? 
 
 ! While they were at a distance, there were few drawbacks 
 | to the rivalry, and, moreover, the brothers’ lives were so 
 
128 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 often in danger, that the hazards of war might cut the " 
 knot at any time. But what might be looked for now 
 that the three were together ? Marie Paul and Paul 
 Marie had reached an age when passion grows in strength 
 by all the forces of a man’s nature. Could they share 
 their fair cousin’s looks, glances, words, and attentions, and 
 not break out into jealousy that might bring fearful results 
 to pass ? What would be the end of the pleasant life that 
 they led together ? 
 
 To these suggestions, brought up one by one over the last 
 game of boston, Madame d’Hauteserre had her answer : she 
 did not believe that Laurence would marry either of her 
 cousins. In the course of the evening the old gentlewoman 
 felt one of the inexplicable presentiments which remain a 
 secret between mothers and God. And Laurence’s con¬ 
 science felt no less dismay over this tete-a-tete with her 
 cousins. To the exciting drama of the plot, to the days 
 when their lives were in danger, to the years of adversity 
 and emigration, another drama had succeeded, a drama of 
 which she had never thought. Her noble nature shrank 
 from the abrupt measure of refusing both the twins; she 
 was too honest a woman to marry another and to bear an 
 irresistible passion in the depths of her heart. To remain 
 unmarried, to weary out her cousins with delay, and then 
 to take as her husband the one that loved her faithfully in 
 spite of her caprices — this was a conclusion not so much de¬ 
 liberately chosen as dimly foreseen. As Laurence fell asleep 
 she told herself that the wisest way was to leave fate to 
 settle her affairs. In love, chance is a woman’s providence. 
 "j\ Next morning Michu started for Paris, and a few days 
 later returned with four fine horses for his new masters. 
 The shooting would begin in six weeks’ time; and the 
 young Countess thought, not without reason, that sport 
 with its absorbing interests would provide relief from the 
 difficulties of the tete-a-tete at the chateau. The first 
 result was quite unexpected; it surprised the onlookers at 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 129 
 
 this strange love-affair while it roused their admiration. 
 Without any deliberate agreement, the two brothers vied 
 with each other in affectionate attentions; they seemed to 
 find satisfaction in these pleasures of the soul. They were 
 as fraternal with Laurence as with each other. Nothing 
 more natural. After so long an absence they both felt that 
 they must learn to know their cousin, and give her time to 
 know them both, while they left her free to make her 
 choice. The affection that made but one life of two lives 
 sustained them through this ordeal. Love even as mother¬ 
 hood seemed as if it could know no distinction between the 
 brothers. Laurence was obliged to give them different 
 cravats to know them, a white one for the elder and black 
 for the younger. But for this complete resemblance, this 
 identity of life which deceived all beholders, such a situa¬ 
 tion would seem, and rightly seem, impossible. It is, in 
 fact, inexplicable until it happens; it is one of those things 
 that nobody can believe until they see it, and once seen, it 
 requires even more mental effort to explain it than to 
 believe it. 
 
 If Laurence spoke, her voice vibrated in the same fashion 
 through two hearts, both alike loving and true. If she said 
 anything ingenious or amusing her eyes met a glad response 
 in other eyes that followed her every movement and inter¬ 
 preted her lightest wish; eyes that always smiled on her 
 with a new expression of gayety or of tender melancholy. 
 
 Where the woman they loved was concerned, both the 
 brothers showed that wonderful spontaneous impulse of 
 heart and action in harmony with the impulse, which, ac¬ 
 cording to the Abbe Goujet, reached the sublime. Often, 
 for instance, if something was sought for, or if there was 
 a question of one of the little services that a man is eager 
 to perform for the woman he loves, the elder brother would 
 yield to the younger with a half-proud, half-pathetic glance 
 at his cousin; and the younger made it a point of honour 
 to repay debts of this kind. 
 
 I 
 
ijo A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 v 
 
 This generous rivalry in a sentiment which sometimes 
 reduces a man to the jealous ferocity of the brute, com¬ 
 pletely confused the ideas of the old people who were 
 watching them. _ , 
 
 Little things like these often brought the tears into 
 Laurence’s eyes. Perhaps it is possible to give an idea of 
 her feelings, by recalling an experience that makes an 
 immense impression upon more highly endowed organisa- t 
 tions, — the memory of two beautiful voices singing 
 together in perfect harmony. When Sontag and Mali- 
 bran, for instance, sing in a duet, and that instrument, the 
 human voice, is controlled by the genius of a great execu¬ 
 tant, then the two parts are blended in a single melody, 
 and it is as if the sighs of one impassioned being were 
 borne in upon the soul. Sometimes the Marquis de 
 Simeuse, from the depths of a great arm-chair, would turn 
 his intent melancholy gaze upon the younger brother, who 
 was laughing and talking with Laurence ; and to the cure, 
 watching him, it seemed, at such times, that this was a 
 man capable of some great act of self-sacrifice. And then 
 again, before long, he caught the gleam of unconquerable 
 passion in the Marquis’s eyes. If either of the brothers 
 chanced to be with Laurence, he might easily believe that 
 he alone was loved. 
 
 ‘ It seems to me when one is away, that they are but 
 one,’ said the Countess, when the abbe questioned her as to 
 her feelings. And then the abbe knew that coquetry was 
 utterly lacking in Laurence. She could not realise that 
 two men loved her. 
 
 ‘ But, my dear little girl, you really must make up your 
 mind sometime,’ Madame d’Hauteserre remonstrated one 
 evening, — Madame d’Hauteserre, whose son was silently 
 dying of love for Laurence. 
 
 ‘ Let us be happy ! ’ the girl answered. ‘ God will save 
 us from ourselves.’ 
 
 Adrien d’Hauteserre locked his gnawing jealousy into 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 131 
 
 the depths of his heart, and kept his pain to himself. He 
 knew how little hope there was for him. He was con¬ 
 tent to watch this charming girl, and indeed, during those 
 months of suspense, Laurence shone radiantly. She had 
 grown bewitching, she took all the pains to please that 
 a woman takes when she is loved. She followed the 
 fashions. More than once she made a hasty journey to 
 Paris to appear lovelier than before in new clothes or 
 finery. And, finally, she would give her cousins even the 
 least pleasures of that sense of being at home to which 
 they had so long been strangers, and, in spite of loud out¬ 
 cries from her guardian, she turned the chateau into the 
 most comfortable place of residence in Champagne at that 
 time. 
 
 Robert d’Hauteserre understood nothing of all this 
 drama beneath the surface. He did not see that his 
 brother loved Laurence. He liked to rally his cousin on 
 her coquetry, for he confused that detestable defect with 
 a desire to please; but Robert was equally obtuse in all 
 matters of taste and feeling and culture. So when the 
 representative of the Dark Ages appeared upon the scene, 
 Laurence at once made him take the part of clown in the 
 play. Nor did he suspect this. She amused her cousins 
 by drawing Robert into a discussion, and leading him on 
 insidiously till he floundered into the marsh where dulness 
 and ignorance sink deeper at every step. She excelled in 
 the ingenious mystifications which, to be perfect, must 
 leave the victim quite satisfied with himself. And yet, 
 during those pleasant days, the one really happy period in 
 the lives of the three charming young people, Robert, 
 coarse though his nature was, never interfered between 
 the Simeuses and Laurence, with some virile, trenchant 
 word which might have decided the question. The sin¬ 
 cerity of the brothers impressed him. And he guessed, 
 no doubt, that a woman might hesitate before showing a 
 sign of preference for the one, when the other must be 
 
1 3 2 
 
 A Gondreville Mystery- 
 
 pained by it; when one brother was made happy at the 
 expense of the other. This forbearance on Robert s part 
 is an admirable comment upon a situation, which would 
 certainly have been a case referred to the higher powers, J 
 in the ages of faith when the sovereign pontiff had 
 power to intervene to cut the Gordian knot in so phenom¬ 
 enal a conjuncture, so well-nigh inscrutable a mystery- 
 The Revolution had disciplined the three in the Catholic A 
 faith, and religion increased the gravity of the crisis; for 
 it is greatness of character that makes a great situation, 
 and neither Monsieur nor Madame d’Hauteserre nor the 
 Goujets looked for anything common or mean from 
 Laurence or the Simeuses. 
 
 The drama was a secret kept within the family circle. 
 So absorbed were they all in watching its slow yet swift 
 progress, the succession of unlooked-for joys, little contests, 
 fallacious preferences, disappointments, cruel suspense, ex¬ 
 planations delayed till the morrow, and mute declarations 
 of love, that the coronation of Napoleon passed quite un¬ 
 heeded by the inmates of Cinq-Cygne. And besides, they 
 had found a truce from passion in the strenuous pleasures 
 of the chase. Excessive physical fatigue prevented perilous 
 excursions into the wide fields of dreamlan . eit er 
 Laurence nor her cousins gave a thought to politics; every 
 day had palpitating interests of its own. 
 
 c Really,’ Mademoiselle Goujet remarked one evening, 
 
 (of all these lovers I cannot tell which loves the best. 
 
 Adrien happened to be in the room with the boston 
 players; he looked up at the words and the colour died 
 out of his face. Lately it had only been the joy of seeing 
 Laurence and of hearing her voice that bound him to life. 
 
 ‘ In my opinion,’ said the cure, ‘the Countess, as a 
 woman, loves with much less reserve. , 
 
 A few minutes later Laurence came in with the two 
 Simeuses and Robert d’Hauteserre. The newspapers had 
 just arrived. Now that conspiracies had failed at home, 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 133 
 
 England, plotting abroad, was bringing Europe into a league 
 against France. The Emperor had meant to repay France 
 for his election by the ruin of the English power, but the 
 disastrous battle of Trafalgar overturned the most tremen¬ 
 dous schemes ever planned by human genius. The camp 
 at Boulogne was broken up. Napoleon’s armies, inferior 
 as always in point of numbers, were about to give battle to 
 Europe on new ground. The whole world was wondering 
 what the result of the campaign would be. 
 
 ‘Oh ! this time he will be beaten,’ said Robert, when he 
 had read the newspaper through. 
 
 c He has all Russia and Austria on his hands,’ remarked 
 Marie Paul. 
 
 4 He has never manoeuvred troops in Germany,’ added 
 Paul Marie. 
 
 4 Of whom are you speaking ? ’ asked Laurence. 
 
 4 Of the Emperor,’ replied all three. 
 
 Laurence gave her lovers a disdainful glance that left 
 them crestfallen, while it sent Adrien into a rapture of joy. 
 The slighted suitor made a gesture of admiration ; the proud 
 look on his face said plainly enough that he had no thoughts 
 now save for Laurence. 
 
 4 So, you see, love has made him forget his hate,’ the 
 Abbe Goujet said, in a low voice. 
 
 This was the first, the last, and only reproach that the 
 brothers incurred, but at that moment they were convicted 
 of an inferiority in love compared with their cousin Lau¬ 
 rence, who only heard the wonderful tidings of Austerlitz 
 two months afterwards, through an argument between old 
 d’Hauteserre and his sons. For old M. d’Hauteserre, con¬ 
 sistent in his schemes, wished his boys to ask to serve under 
 the Emperor; they would, no doubt, take their rank on 
 entering the service, and a chance of a splendid career was 
 still open to them. But the pure Royalist party was the 
 stronger at Cinq-Cygne. Laurence and the four younger 
 men laughed at the prudent old man, who seemed to scent 
 
1^4 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 coming misfortune. Possibly prudence is not so much a 
 virtue as a kind of intellectual sense, if it be possible to put 
 those words together; but the day will surely come when 
 physiologists and philosophers will admit that the senses 
 are, in a manner, the sheath of a vivid and penetrating pro¬ 
 jection of the intelligence. 
 
 After the conclusion of peace between France and 
 Austria toward the end of February, 1806, a relative of c 
 the families came over to Cinq-Cygne. This was the 
 ci-devant Marquis de Chargeboeuf, owner of an estate in 
 the Seine-et-Marne with outlying lands in the Aube. The 
 Marquis had exerted himself on behalf of his relatives at 
 the time of the application to be taken off the List of 
 emigres; at a later time he was to give them further proof 
 of his attachment. The family at the chateau were break¬ 
 fasting when the Marquis arrived in a kind of caleche . 
 derisively called a berlingot in those days. They burst into 
 a fit of laughter as the shabby carriage came along the 
 narrow, paved road; but when the old man s bald head 
 was thrust out from between the leather curtains, M. 
 d’Hauteserre exclaimed that it was the Marquis de Charge¬ 
 boeuf; and they all rose from the table to pay their re¬ 
 spects to the head of the house. 
 
 C We are to blame for allowing our relative to be before¬ 
 hand with us,’ said the Marquis de Simeuse, addressing 
 his brother and the d’Hauteserres. ‘We ought to go out 
 
 to thank him.’ ; 
 
 The servant on the box-seat, a man in ordinary peasant s 
 dress, stuck a waggoner’s whip into a cumbrous leather 
 tube, and went round to assist the Marquis to alight; 
 but Adrien and the younger Simeuse were there before 
 him. They undid the brass handles of the door, and helped 
 him to descend, in spite of protests. The Marquis was 
 wont to maintain that his yellow berlingot with its leather 
 door was an excellent and commodious vehicle. Mean¬ 
 while the servant with Gothard’s help had unharnessed 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 135 
 
 the horses, — a pair of heavy, sturdy beasts with sleek 
 hind quarters, equally accustomed, no doubt, to work on 
 the land or on the road. 
 
 ‘In spite of the cold? Why, you show the prowess 
 of a knight of ancient days,’ said Laurence, leading her 
 aged relative into the salon. 
 
 ‘ It is not your place to come to see an old fogy like 
 ne,’ he said,— a delicate way of insinuating a reproach. 
 
 ‘What brings him here?’ old d’Hauteserre privately 
 wondered. 
 
 M. de Chargeboeuf, a neat, little, elderly gentleman of 
 sixty-seven, wore powder, pigeon’s wings, and a bag-wig. 
 His thin legs were encased in ribbed stockings and light- 
 coloured small-clothes; his green cloth shooting-coat was 
 adorned with gold buttons and frogs, and his white 
 waistcoat was dazzling with its portentous quantity of 
 gold embroidery. A costume still worn in 1805 by elderly 
 people harmonised well with a countenance not unlike 
 that of the great Frederick. The Marquis never wore 
 his cocked hat for fear of disturbing the demi-lune of 
 powder on his head. He leant his right hand on a hooked 
 walking-cane, holding both hat and cane in a manner 
 worthy of le Grand Monarque . 
 
 This worthy gentleman divested himself of a wadded 
 silk gown, and sank into the depths of an easy-chair. His 
 cane and cocked hat he held between his knees. None 
 but the roues of the court of Louis Quinze ever possessed 
 the secret of the attitude which left the hands free to toy 
 with the snuff-box, always a valuable trinket. And, in 
 fact, the Marquis now produced a very handsome snuff-box 
 from a waistcoat pocket closed by a flap covered with gold 
 scroll-work; and while he offered snuff with a gracious 
 gesture and benign expression, and prepared a pinch, he 
 had time to see, in the first place, that his visit gave his 
 relatives genuine pleasure, and in the second, to under¬ 
 stand why the emigres had been remiss. 4 When people 
 
136 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 make love, they forget to pay visits/ his face seemed to 
 say. 
 
 4 We are going to keep you for a few days, are we not ? ’ 
 said Laurence. J 
 
 4 That is quite out of the question,’ returned he. 4 If 
 we were not so kept apart by events — for you have made 
 longer journeys than the distance between our houses, 
 dear child — you would know that I have daughters and 
 daughters-in-law and granddaughters and grandchildren; 
 and they would all be anxious if they did not see me to¬ 
 night. I have more than forty miles to drive.’ 
 
 4 You have very good horses,’ said the Marquis de 
 Simeuse. 
 
 4 Oh ! I have only come from Troyes; I was there yester¬ 
 day on business.’ 
 
 Then followed inquiries after the family, the Marquise . 
 de Chargeboeuf, and matters really indifferent, in which 
 courtesy requires us to take a lively interest. It seemed to 
 M. d’Hauteserre that M. de Chargeboeuf’s object in com¬ 
 ing had been to recommend his relatives to commit no 
 imprudences. The times were very much changed, so the 
 Marquis took occasion to say, and nobody could tell now 
 what the Emperor might become. 
 
 4 Oh ! he will be a god,’ said Laurence. 
 
 Then the good Marquis talked of making concessions. 
 And M. d’Hauteserre, hearing him discourse on the neces¬ 
 sity of submission, with far more authority and conviction 
 than he himself ever put into his doctrine, looked almost 
 imploringly at his offspring. 
 
 4 Would you serve that man ? ’ asked the Marquis de 
 Simeuse. 
 
 4 Why, yes, if the interests of my family required it.’ 
 
 At last the Marquis began to hint vaguely at distant dan¬ 
 gers ; and, when Laurence asked him to explain himself, 
 strongly recommended the young men to give up hunting 
 and to keep quietly at home. 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 137 
 
 c You always think of the lands of Gondreville as your 
 own,’ he said, turning to the Simeuses; c that is the way 
 to stir up danger. I can see by your astonishment that 
 you have no idea that there are those in Troyes who bear 
 you ill-will; your courage has not been forgotten there. 
 Nobody scruples to tell how you baffled the police; some 
 praise you, some say you are the Emperor’s enemies, and 
 a few fanatics here and there are amazed at the Emperor’s 
 clemency in your case. But this is nothing. You have 
 outwitted persons that thought themselves more than a 
 match for you, and low people never forgive. Now all 
 the judicial appointments in the department are, more or 
 less, made by your enemy Malin ; he has put his creatures 
 in every post, even on the staff* of prosecuting counsel; 
 and, sooner or later, his judicial functionaries will be un¬ 
 commonly well pleased to find you implicated in some 
 delicate business. Some peasant or other will pick a 
 quarrel with you for trespassing over his field, you will be 
 out with loaded guns, you have quick tempers, misfortunes 
 may easily happen. People in your position must be in 
 the right a hundred times over if they are not to be in the 
 wrong. I do not say this unadvisedly. Your arrondisse- 
 ment is still under police supervision; a commissary is 
 maintained in that little hole of a place, Arcis, on purpose 
 to protect a member of the Imperial Senate from your 
 designs on his life. He is afraid of you. And he says so.’ 
 c But it is a slander! ’ cried the younger brother. 
 c A slander! I myself think so. . . . But what does 
 the public think ? That is the important point. Michu 
 once lay in wait for Malin. Malin has not forgotten it. 
 Since your return, the Countess has taken Michu into her 
 service. And so a good many people, most people in fact, 
 think that Malin is right. You do not realise how very 
 delicate the position is, when an emigre is brought in con¬ 
 tact with the new owner of his estates. The Prefect, an 
 intelligent man, just let fall a word or two about you yes- 
 
ij8 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 terday, and I felt uneasy. In short I would rather not see 
 you here- 5 
 
 The Marquis’s reply was received with the utmost 
 amazement. Marie Paul rang energetically. M 
 
 ‘ Gothard,’ he said, when the little fellow came, ‘ go and 
 fetch Michu.’ 
 
 It was not long before the ex-bailiff of Gondreville 
 appeared. 
 
 ‘ Michu, my friend,’ began the Marquis de Simeuse, 1 is 
 it true that you tried to kill Malin ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, my lord Marquis. And when he comes back I 
 will lie in wait for him again-’ 
 
 ‘ Do you know that we are suspected of setting you to 
 watch for him ? That our cousin, as she took you for 
 her tenant, is accused of complicity in a plot against his 
 
 life ? ’ * 
 
 ‘Good gracious!’ cried Michu. ‘There must be a 
 curse hanging over me. Am I never to rid you quietly of 
 Malin ? ’ 
 
 ‘No, no, my boy,’ said Paul Marie. ‘You must leave , 
 our service and the neighbourhood. We will watch over 
 your interests and put you in the way of prospering. Sell 
 all that you have here, realise everything, and we will send 
 you to Trieste. We have a friend there who has very 
 large business connections; you will be very useful to him, 
 until things improve here for us all.’ 
 
 The tears came into Michu’s eyes; he stood glued to 
 the spot on the polished floor. _ _ 
 
 ‘ Did any one see you when you lay in wait for Malin ? 
 asked the Marquis de Chargeboeuf. 
 
 ‘ Grevin, the notary, was talking with him, or I should 
 have shot him, and very lucky it was that I did not, as 
 Madame la Comtesse knows,’ he added, looking at his 
 mistress. 
 
 The Marquis de Chargeboeuf seemed to be put out by 
 all this questioning, although it was conducted by the family 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 139 
 
 among themselves. ‘ Is this Grevin the only person who 
 knows of it ? ’ he asked. 
 
 ‘ That spy who came down at the time to trap the mas¬ 
 ters knew about it too.’ 
 
 M. Chargebceuf got up and went to the window, as if 
 he were interested in the gardens. 
 
 ‘ You have made great improvements here at Cinq-Cygne, 
 have you not ? ’ he said ; and he went out, followed by Lau¬ 
 rence and the Simeuses, who understood the meaning of the 
 inquiry. 
 
 Outside, the old noble turned to them. 
 
 ‘You are open-natured and generous,’ he said, ‘but 
 rash as ever. I give you warning of a rumour, which must 
 be a slander , nothing more natural; and you proceed to 
 prove that it is well founded before weak-minded folk like 
 Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre and their sons.— 
 Oh ! you young people! you young people! — You should 
 leave Michu here,’ he continued ; ‘ it is you, you who ought 
 to go! But at any rate, if you stop in the neighbourhood, 
 write a few lines to the Senator, tell him that you have 
 just heard through me of the rumours current about your 
 servant, and that he has had notice given him.’ 
 
 ‘ We ! ’ cried the brothers. ‘Are we to write to Malin 
 who murdered our father and mother, and impudently 
 robbed us of our estates ? ’ 
 
 ‘ That is all true; but he is one of the greatest personages 
 at the Imperial court, and a king in the Aube.’ 
 
 ‘ Malin that voted for the King’s death if the Army of 
 Conde should enter France, and otherwise for perpetual 
 imprisonment! ’ exclaimed Laurence. 
 
 ‘ And probably advised the death of the Due d’Enghien,’ 
 exclaimed Paul Marie. 
 
 ‘ Oh ! well, if you have a mind to recapitulate all his 
 titles to nobility,’ exclaimed the Marquis, ‘say that he 
 pulled down Robespierre by the skirts of his coat as soon 
 as he saw that the majority were for getting rid of Robes- 
 
140 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 pierre; he would have had Bonaparte taken out and shot 
 if the 18th Brumaire had failed; he would bring back the 
 Bourbons if Napoleon should totter. The strongest will 
 always find Malin at his side, with a sword or a pistol * 
 ready so that he can rid himself at once of any formidable 
 antagonist! — But so much the more reason/ 
 c We are sinking very low,’ said Laurence. 
 
 The old Marquis led them further away to a strip of 
 grass-plot covered with a light sprinkling of snow. 
 
 c Ah! you children, you will fly into indignation when 
 you hear a wise man’s advice; but it is my duty to give 
 it. This is what I should do. I would take some old 
 gentleman (like myself, for instance) as mediator. I would 
 authorise him to make Malin an offer — a million of francs 
 for a ratification of the sale of Gondreville. . . . Oh ! 
 keep the thing quiet, he would agree to it. Then as the # 
 funds stand now you would have a hundred thousand francs 
 per annum, you could buy a fine estate somewhere else in 
 France, leave M. d’Hauteserre as steward of Cinq-Cygne, 
 and pull straws to decide which of you shall marry our fair 
 heiress here. But an old man’s talk in young ears is like 
 young people’s talk for old folk — sound with no meaning 
 in it.’ 
 
 He signified that he wished to hear no reply and returned 
 to the salon, the Abbe Goujet and his sister having mean¬ 
 time arrived. The Simeuses were indignant at the proposal 
 that they should pull straws for their cousin, and Laurence 
 was, so to speak, disgusted by the unpalatable remedy 
 pointed out by their relative. The three were courteous, 
 but less gracious than before. Affection had received a 
 shock. M. de Chargeboeuf felt the coolness, he looked 
 again and again at the three charming faces, and his eyes 
 were full of compassion. The conversation became general, 
 but he still talked of the necessity of accepting the situation, 
 and vaunted M. d’Hauteserre’s persistent wish, to see his 
 sons in the Emperor’s army. 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 141 
 
 ‘ Bonaparte creates dukes,’ he said, ‘ and fiefs of the Em¬ 
 pire ; some day he will create counts. Malin would like 
 to be Comte de Gondreville. — There is an idea which you 
 may find useful,’ he added, looking as he spoke at the 
 Simeuses. 
 
 ‘ Or disastrous,’ said Laurence. 
 
 The horses were put in, the Marquis rose at once to go, 
 followed by the whole family. He beckoned to Laurence’ 
 when he was seated; she sprang, light as a bird, to the 
 carriage step. 
 
 ‘You are not an ordinary woman,’ he said, lowering his 
 voice for her ear; ‘you should understand me. Malin 
 cannot let you alone; his conscience is uneasy; he will lay 
 some sort of trap for you. Whatever you do, be very care¬ 
 ful even of your slightest actions. Compound the matter, 
 in short, that is my last word to you.’ 
 
 The brothers stood passive and motionless beside 
 Laurence on the lawn, watching the berlingot as it 
 turned through the gate and rolled away on the road to 
 Troyes; Laurence had repeated the old gentleman’s last 
 words to them. It is always a mistake on the part of 
 age and experience to come upon the scene in a berlingot, 
 with a pair of striped stockings and a bag^wig. Not one 
 of the three young creatures could conceive the changes 
 that were taking place in France. Every nerve in them 
 was quivering with indignation; honour like their noble 
 blood was boiling in their veins. 
 
 ‘And he is the head of the Chargeboeufs! ’ said the 
 Marquis de Simeuse, ‘ a man with the words Adsit fortior 
 for his motto, one of the grandest of all war-cries ! ’ 
 
 ‘There is only the baeu/Mf, it is a bovine metamorphosis,’ 
 said Laurence, with a bitter smile. 
 
 ^ ‘ The age of St Louis is past! ’ cried the younger of the 
 Simeuses. 
 
 ‘ “ To DIE SINGING ! ” ’ Laurence exclaimed. ‘ The cry 
 sf the five maids who founded our house shall be mine! ’ 
 
I42 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 i And our motto is Cy Meurs. So no surrender,’ added 
 the elder brother, ‘ for when you come to think over it our 
 relative the Ox ruminated very sagaciously over what he 
 came to say to us. Gondreville will sooner or later be * 
 Malin’s name.’ 
 
 c And residence!’ exclaimed Marie raul. 
 
 * Mansard designed it for nobles, and the people would 
 
 bring up their broods in it,’ said his brother. , 
 
 * If it is to be so, I would rather see Gondreville burnt, 
 
 Laurence burst out. , , 
 
 A man from the village had come to take a look at a 
 calf that old d’Hauteserre was selling him; he came out 
 of the cow shed at that moment and heard the words. 
 
 ‘ Let us go back to the house,’ said Laurence, with a 
 smile; c a little more and we should have done something 
 imprudent, and made good the prophecy of the Ox, over a 
 bargain for a calf.” 
 
 t Michu, my poor fellow, I had forgotten about your 
 prank,’ she said, as she returned to the salon; ‘ but we are 
 not in the odour of sanctity hereabouts, so do not get us 
 into trouble. Have you any other peccadillo on your 
 
 conscience^rry ^ j did not m my old mast er’s murderer 
 
 before I hurried to the rescue of my present masters. 
 
 ‘ Michu ! ’ cried the cure. 
 c But I am not going to leave the neighbourhood until 1 
 know that you are safe,’ he continued, taking no notice ot 
 the exclamation. ‘I see fellows prowling about and 1 
 don’t altogether like the looks of them. The last time 
 that we were out shooting in the forest, that gamekeepei 
 kind of fellow that they have taken on in my place a, 
 Gondreville came up to me and asked me if we though 
 we were at home there. “ Ah ! my boy, I told him, H 
 is not easy to break yourself of a habit in two month 
 when it is a thing that has been done for two hundre. 
 
 years.” ’ 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 143 
 
 4 You are in the wrong, Michu,’ said the Marquis 
 de Simeuse, with a pleased smile. 
 
 4 What did he say ?’ asked M. d’Hauteserre. 
 
 1 He said that he should let the Senator know of our 
 pretensions.’ 
 
 4 The Comte de Gondreville! ’ cried the elder Simeuse. 
 4 Ah ! a fine farce ! By the by, they say 44 your Majesty ” 
 to Bonaparte.’ 
 
 4 And 44 your Highness ” to my lord the Grand Duke of 
 Berg,’ added the cure. 
 
 4 Who may he be?’ asked M. de Simeuse. 
 
 4 Murat, Napoleon’s brother-in-law,’ said old d’Hauteserre. 
 
 4 Good! ’ was Laurence’s comment. 4 And do they say 
 44 your Majesty ” to the Marquis de Beauharnais’s widow ? ’ 
 
 4 Yes, Mademoiselle.’ 
 
 4 We ought to go to Paris to see all this ! ’ cried Laurence. 
 
 4 Alas, Mademoiselle,’ said Michu, 4 1 went to Paris to 
 take Francois to school, and upon my word there is no try¬ 
 ing on any nonsense with the Imperial Guard, as they call 
 them. If the whole army is cut out on that pattern, it 
 may last our time and longer.’ 
 
 4 They talk of noble families that are entering the ser¬ 
 vice,’ said M. d’Hauteserre. 
 
 4 And as the law stands at present, your children will be 
 bound to serve,’ rejoined the cure. 
 
 4 The law recognises no distinctions of rank or name, 
 now.’ 
 
 4 That man is doing us more damage with his court, 
 than the Revolution did with the axe! ’ exclaimed Laurence. 
 
 4 The Church prays for him,’ put in the cure. 
 
 All these things that were said, one after another, were 
 like so many commentaries on the old Marquis de Charge- 
 boeuPs wise words; but the young people had too much 
 confidence, too strong a sense of honour to accept a com¬ 
 promise. They said among themselves what every de¬ 
 feated party has said since the world began, to wit, that 
 
144 
 
 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 there would be an end of the prosperity of the victorious 
 side The Emperor was kept in his place entirely by the 
 army; sooner or later the right would triumph, and so forth, 
 and so forth; and thus, in spite of warnings, they fell into the * 
 pit that was digged before them, while prudent and docile 
 folk, like old d’Hauteserre, would have avoided it. It 
 people would be honest, they would perhaps admit that 
 misfortunes never burst upon them without some warning - 
 beforehand, either from without or within ; but there are 
 many who only recognise the profound S1 g n,fican ^ of ^ 
 portent, mysterious or otherwise, after the calamity has 
 
 be ^In any case, Madame la Comtesse knows that I cannot 
 leave the place until I have sent in my accounts, Michu 
 whispered to Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne. 
 
 For all answer she gave him a look, and he wen . 
 Michu sold his land at once to Beauvisage, the tenant ot 
 Bellache, but he could not receive payment for nearly three 
 weeks. Laurence, meanwhile, had told her cousins of thei 
 fortune hidden in the forest; and so, just a month after the 
 Marquis’s visit, she suggested that they should unearth the 
 hoard on the mid-Lent holiday. But for heavy falls of 
 snow, it would have been dug up before; but Michu was 
 better pleased that his masters should be present on he 
 occasion. He had quite made up his mind to leave the 
 place; he could not trust himself. 
 
 P ‘ Malin has come down to Gondreville qnite suddenly, 
 no one knows why,' he told his mistress, < and the thought 
 of ha.ing Gondreville pot up for sale in consequence o, 
 the owner’s decease, would be too much for m . 
 like a guilty man, when I do not act on the inspiration. 
 
 ‘What can have induced him to leave Pans in the dept 
 
 ° f "ill Ards is talking about it,' said Michu, ‘he left his 
 family in Paris and brought down no one but his own man 
 M. Grevin, the Arcis notary, and Madame Marion, 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 145 
 
 -ceiver-generaPs wife (sister-in-law of the other Marion, 
 /lalin’s stalking-horse), are keeping him company.’ 
 
 Laurence thought the mid-Lent holiday a capital day for 
 heir purpose, for it gave her an excuse for ridding herself 
 f the servants. The masqueraders in the town attracted 
 he peasants *, and no one would be working in the fields. 
 Jut as so often happens in criminal affairs, it was precisely 
 he choice of the day that helped to bring about the disaster, 
 "ate was as ingenious in her calculations as Mademoiselle 
 ie Cinq-Cygne. The young people held a council, decided 
 hat Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre would be so anx- 
 ous if they knew that a hoard of eleven hundred thousand 
 rancs in gold was buried on the outskirts of a forest, that 
 hey concluded to spare them the knowledge. The young 
 PHauteserres, consulted on the point, were of the same 
 jpinion. The secret of the expedition was confined to the 
 bur nobles, Gothard, Michu, and Laurence herself. 
 
 After much calculation it seemed possible that each 
 lorse could carry a load of forty-eight thousand francs in 
 1 long bag over the crupper. Three journeys would be 
 mough. It was agreed that the servants’ curiosity might 
 )rove dangerous, so they were all sent off to Troyes to see 
 he mid-Lent rejoicings. Catherine, Marthe, and Durieu, 
 vho might be trusted, stayed at the chateau. The servants 
 /ery willingly accepted their holiday and went before day¬ 
 break. Gothard, with Michu’s help, rubbed down the 
 lorses and saddled them early in the morning; the caval- 
 :ade went round by way of the gardens, and there they 
 started for the forest. They were just mounting (for the 
 bark gate was so low that every one had gone in on foot, 
 iach leading his horse) when old Beauvisage, the tenant of 
 Bellache, came by. 
 
 c Hullo ! ’ cried Gothard ; c here comes somebody-’ 
 
 4 Oh, it is I ! ’ said the honest farmer, coming out upon 
 them. c Good day, gentlemen. So you are going a-hunt- 
 ;ng in spite of the Prefect’s orders. I am not one to com¬ 
 ic 
 
146 A Gondreville Mystery- 
 
 plain, but take care ! If you have friends you have plenty 
 of enemies/ 
 
 4 Aha!’ returned the burly d’Hauteserre, with a smile 
 c God send success to our hunting, and you shall have yom 
 masters back again/ 
 
 At these words, on which events were to put a very dif¬ 
 ferent construction, Laurence looked sternly at Robert 
 The Marquis de Simeuse imagined that Malin would give 
 up Gondreville if the purchase-money was returned tc 
 him. The Marquis de Chargeboeuf had advised the exactly 
 opposite course. Robert, sharing the young people’ 
 hopes, had them in his mind when he uttered these fata 
 words. 
 
 c In any case, mum is the word, old boy,’ Michu said t< 
 Beauvisage, as he took the key and followed the others. 
 
 It was one of those bright days toward the end of March 
 when there is no dampness in the air; when the ground i 
 dry, the weather cloudless, and the warmth seems curiousb 
 at variance with the leafless trees. So mild was the weathe 
 that there were patches of green here and there in the coun 
 try as they went. 
 
 4 We are setting out to look for treasure, and all th 
 while you are the real prize of our house, cousin,’ laughe* 
 the elder of the Simeuses. Laurence went at a footpac 
 ahead of the others, with a cousin on either side. Th 
 two d’Hauteserres came next, and Michu brought up th 
 rear. Gothard had been sent on in front to look out alon 
 the way. 
 
 4 If our fortune, a part of it at least, is to be found agair 
 marry my brother,’ said the younger of the twins in a lo\ 
 voice. 4 He idolises you; you would be as rich as th 
 nobles of these days are obliged to be.’ 
 
 4 No. Leave the money to him, and I will marry yoi 
 since I am rich enough for two,’ returned she. 
 
 4 So let it be ! ’ cried the Marquis de Simeuse. 4 And 
 will go to find a wife worthy to be your sister/ 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 147 
 
 ‘Then you love me less than I thought,’ said Laurence, 
 toking at him jealously. 
 
 ‘ No; I love you both more than you love me,’ retorted 
 le Marquis. 
 
 ‘ And for that reason you would sacrifice yourself? 
 sked Laurence, with eyes full of the momentary prefer- 
 nce. The Marquis made no reply. His silence drew 
 n impatient gesture from her. 
 
 ‘ Very well,’ she said; ‘ in that case I should think of 
 ou always, and my husband would find that intolerable. 
 
 ‘ How could I live without you ? ’ exclaimed the younger 
 irother, looking at the older. 
 
 ‘Still, you cannot take us both, said the Marquis. 
 And it is time to make a decision,’ he added, his tone 
 ibrupt with deep feeling. And he pushed on ahead lest 
 he d’Hauteserres should hear. His companions horses 
 ollowed. When they had put a reasonable interval be- 
 ween themselves and the rest of the party, Laurence 
 :ried to speak, but at first tears came and no words. 
 
 ‘ I will go into a convent,’ she said at last. 
 
 C And be the last of the Cinq-Cygnes ? ’ asked the 
 younger Simeuse. ‘ Then instead of one unhappy man 
 who consents to his lot, you would have two ? Nay. 
 The one who can only be a brother to you will resign 
 himself to his fate. When we knew that we were ^not 
 to be so poor as we thought, we had an explanation, he 
 added, looking at the Marquis. ‘If I am preferred, this 
 fortune of ours goes to my brother. If I am the unhappy 
 one, he will make over the fortune to me, and the title as 
 well, for he will be the Comte de Cinq-Cygne. Which¬ 
 ever way it happens, the unlucky brother will have a 
 chance of an establishment. And finally, if he feels that 
 he is heartbroken, he will go into the army to be killed 
 without casting a shadow on the other two.’ 
 
 ‘ We are true knights of the Middle Ages; we are worthy 
 of our sires ! ’ cried Paul Marie. ‘ Decide, Laurence ! ’ 
 
148 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 We cannot go on like this any longer,’ added the 
 younger. 
 
 c And, Laurence,’ added the elder, 4 do not think that 
 there will be no luxury in self-sacrifice.’ 
 
 4 My two dearly loved ones, I cannot decide. I love you 
 both as if you were but one; as you loved your mother. God 
 will help us. I shall not make the choice. We will leave 
 chance to decide, and I have one condition to make.’ 
 
 4 What is it ? ’ 
 
 4 That the one that shall be my brother afterwards shall 
 stay till I give him leave to go. I wish to be the sole 
 judge of the expediency of his going.’ 
 
 The brothers agreed to this, though they did not under¬ 
 stand what was in her mind. 
 
 4 The first to whom Madame d’Hauteserre shall address 
 a word to-night at dinner, after the Benedicite , shall be my 
 husband,’ continued Laurence. 4 But there must be no 
 tricks; none of you are to prompt her to ask a question.’ 
 
 4 We will play fairly,’ said Marie Paul, and they kissed 
 Laurence’s hand. The decision would soon be made; 
 each of the brothers could believe that it would be in his 
 favour, and their spirits rose high. 
 
 4 However it is, Laurence dear, you will make a Comte 
 de Cinq-Cygne,’ said the elder. 
 
 4 And in our game the one who wins will lose his name,’ 
 added the younger Simeuse. 
 
 4 I think, at this rate, that Madame la Comtesse will be 
 a bride before long,’ said Michu, behind the d’Hauteserres. 
 4 The masters are in great spirits. If my mistress makes 
 her choice, I shall stay on. I want to see that wedding.’ 
 
 Neither of the d’Hauteserres answered a word. Quite 
 suddenly a single magpie lighted down between the 
 d’Hauteserres and Michu. Like all children of the soil, 
 Michu was superstitious; it seemed to him that he heard 
 the death-bell tolling. But for the other three the day 
 began gayly enough; when lovers go together through a 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 149 
 
 vood they very seldom see magpies. Michu had brought 
 iis map, and found the spot; each of the gentlemen was 
 provided with a pick, and the money was unearthed. The 
 liding-place was in a lonely spot in the forest, far from any 
 3ath or human dwelling, and the cavalcade met no one, 
 vhich was unfortunate; for, grown bold with success, they 
 ;ook a short cut on the journey for the last two hundred 
 :housand francs. The road went past the highest point of 
 die forest, from which you could see the park at Gondreville. 
 
 c There is a fire ! ’ exclaimed Laurence, seeing a column 
 of bluish smoke. 
 
 ‘A bonfire somewhere or other,’ said Michu. 
 
 Laurence knew every track and path in the woods; she 
 left the party and rode at full gallop to the Cinq-Cygne 
 lodge, Michu’s old home. The house was empty and shut 
 up, but the gate stood open, and Laurence noticed at once 
 the tracks of several horses. The smoke was rising from 
 a grassy space in the ‘ English park.’ They must be burn¬ 
 ing weeds, she thought. 
 
 c Ah ! you are in it too, mademoiselle ! ’ cried a voice. 
 It was Violette. The man had come at a gallop down the 
 way from the park, and now pulled up at the sight of 
 Laurence. ‘ But it is only a carnival joke, isn’t it ? They 
 are not going to kill him, are they ? ’ 
 
 ‘Whom?’ 
 
 ‘Your cousins don’t mean to kill him.’ 
 
 ‘ Kill ? Whom ? ’ 
 
 ‘The Senator.’ 
 
 ‘You are mad, Violette ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Well then, what are you doing here ? ’ retorted he. But 
 at the first mention of danger for her cousins, the gallant 
 girl turned and rode back at full speed, and reached the spot 
 just as the last loads were ready. 
 
 ‘ Look out! Something is happening, I don’t know 
 what. But let us go back to Cinq-Cygne.’ 
 
 While they had been busy unearthing the fortune saved 
 
150 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 by the late Marquis, a strange scene had taken place at the 
 chateau de Gondreville. 
 
 At half-past two that afternoon the Senator and his 
 friend Grevin were playing a game of chess beside the 
 fire in the great salon on the ground floor. Madame 
 Marion and Madame Grevin were chatting together on 
 a sofa drawn up to the fireside. The servants had all gone 
 over to Troyes to see a curious masquerade long adver¬ 
 tised in the arrondissement. The keeper, Michu’s succes¬ 
 sor at the Cinq-Cygne lodge, had likewise gone with his 
 family. The only people in the chateau, beside the group 
 in the salon, were the Senator’s own man and Violette. 
 The gate-keeper and a couple of gardeners were at their 
 posts, but the lodge stood at the entrance to the drive at 
 the further end of the Arcis avenue, at such a distance that 
 you could not hear a shot fired at the chateau. On this 
 particular afternoon, moreover, the folk were all on the 
 other side of the house, watching on the threshold in the 
 hope of seeing the mummers come from Arcis, more than a 
 mile away. 
 
 Violette was waiting in the great entrance hall for an 
 interview with the Senator and Grevin as to the renewal 
 of his lease, when five men, wearing masks and gloves, 
 burst in upon Violette and the man-servant, gagged them 
 with pocket-handkerchiefs, and tied them down to* two 
 chairs in the pantry. Four of the intruders resembled the! 
 MM. d’Hauteserre and Simeuse in figure, manners, and 
 gait; the fifth man was like Michu. Quick as they had 
 been about their work, both the victims continued to cry 
 out, and the cry was heard by the party in the drawing¬ 
 room. The women insisted that it was a cry of alarm. 
 
 c Listen ! ’ exclaimed Madame Grevin ; c there are thieves 
 in the house ! ’ 
 
 c Pooh, some carnival cry,’ said Grevin; c the mummers 
 are coming to the chateau.’ 
 
 The dispute gave the five masked intruders time to shut 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 151 
 
 ie gates on the side of the great courtyard, and to lock 
 iolette and the man-servant into the pantry. Madame 
 Irevin, a tolerably self-willed lady, persisted in going out 
 > learn the cause of the sound. She fell in with the five 
 lasks, and met with the fate of Violette and the man-servant, 
 'his done, they burst into the salon, the two strongest 
 rappled with the Comte de Gondreville, gagged him and 
 urried him off across the park, while the other three, 
 aving gagged Madame Marion and the notary, bound 
 lem down, each in an arm-chair. The whole thing 
 vas over and done in less than half an hour. The two 
 ame back to join the others, and then began a thorough 
 earch through the chateau from garret to cellar. Not a 
 ingle lock was picked, but every cupboard was opened, and 
 very wall was sounded; the place was at their mercy, in 
 hort, till five o’clock that evening. About that time the 
 nan-servant succeeded in gnawing through the cords that 
 iound Violette. Violette, now ungagged, raised the alarm. 
 \.t the sound of his shouts the five strangers made off 
 tcross the gardens, mounted horses like those ridden by 
 he Cinq-Cygnes, and escaped, but not so nimbly but that 
 Violette saw them. Violette unbound the man-servant 
 md left him to look after the women and the notary, 
 vhile he himself bestrode his nag and rode off after the 
 miscreants. When he reached the Cinq-Cygne lodge, to 
 lis unspeakable amazement he saw the gate standing wide 
 jpen, and Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne, as he supposed, 
 an sentry duty. 
 
 The young Countess was away out of sight when Grevin 
 rode up with the rural policeman of the commune of Gondre¬ 
 ville, the gate-keeper having found him a mount in the 
 stables, while the gate-keeper’s wife went to give notice to 
 the gendarmerie at Arcis. Violette forthwith spoke to 
 Grevin of his meeting with Laurence, and her flight ; the 
 depth and decision of that fearless young woman’s char¬ 
 acter was known to them both. 
 
i $2 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 c She was on the lookout,’ added Violette. 
 
 c Is it possible that the Cinq-Cygne nobles can have 
 made the attack ? ’ cried Grevin. 
 
 c What! ’ returned Violette. c Did you not recognise 
 big Michu ? He sprang upon me. I felt the weight of 
 his fist, I did. What is more, the horses certainly came 
 out of the Cinq-Cygne stables.’ 
 
 Grevin looked round at the marks of horses’ hoofs on 
 the sand, and left the policeman at the gate to keep a 
 watch over the precious footprints, sending Violette to 
 fetch the justice of the peace from Arcis to verify them, 
 while he himself rode back at once to the chateau de 
 Gondreville and entered the drawing-room. The lieutenant 
 and sub-lieutenant of the gendarmerie had come, with four 
 men and a corporal. 
 
 The lieutenant, as might be expected, was the very 
 corporal in whose head Francois had made a hole two 
 years previously. Corentin had helped him to the name of 
 his mischievous antagonist. This man’s name was Giguet. 
 His brother in the army became one of the foremost colonels 
 in the artillery, and he himself rose by his merit to his rank 
 in the gendarmerie, and subsequently to the command of 
 the Aube division. 
 
 The sub-lieutenant, Welff by name, was the man who 
 had served in Egypt. He drove Corentin from Cinq- 
 Cygne to the hunting lodge, and thence to Troyes; and 
 sufficiently edifying tales he heard, by the way, of the 
 4 trickery ’ of Laurence and Michu, as Corentin was pleased 
 to call it. 
 
 Consequently, both Giguet and Welff were sure to dis¬ 
 play no little zeal against the Cinq-Cygnes. Malin and 
 Grevin had both been employed on the Code of Brumaire 
 of the year IV, the work promulgated by the, so-called, 
 National Convention under the Directory; and they had 
 worked together. Grevin, knowing this piece of legisla¬ 
 tion to the bottom, was able to work the present affair 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 153 
 
 yith incredible speed, on the presumption almost amount- 
 ng to a certainty that Michu, the d’Hauteserres, and the 
 iimeuses were guilty. Scarcely any one now living, save 
 m old magistrate here and there, can recollect the old 
 judicial organisation overturned by Napoleon about that 
 r 6 ry time by the promulgation of his Code, and the institu- 
 ion of the present system. 
 
 By the Code of Brumaire of the year IV the conduct 
 rf the prosecution of the misdemeanour committed at 
 3 ondreville was entirely in the hands of the Director of 
 .he Jury in the department. Remark, by the way, that 
 :he Convention struck the word ‘ crime ’ out of the dic¬ 
 tionary of legal terms, and admitted nothing but misde¬ 
 meanours : misdemeanours against the law, misdemeanours 
 punishable as the case may be by fine, imprisonment, or 
 disgrace, while a fourth series of penalties known as cor¬ 
 poral punishments ’ included death. The ‘ corporal pun¬ 
 ishment ’ of death, however, was destined to be commuted 
 after the Peace to twenty-four years of penal servitude. 
 The Convention, it would seem, held that twenty-four 
 years in a convicts’ prison is equivalent to death; what is 
 to be said of the Code Penal with its ‘ penal servitude in 
 perpetuity ’ ? 
 
 The Code Napoleon, even then in process of com¬ 
 pletion, suppressed the Directors of the Jury altogether, 
 because such enormous powers were united in their hands. 
 So far as the conduct of the prosecution, and the drawing 
 up of the indictment was concerned, a Director of the 
 Jury was in some sort the agent of the judicial police, the 
 public prosecutor, examining magistrate, and court of 
 appeal, all in one. There was, however, one check upon 
 him : his procedure and indictment were submitted to the 
 commissary of the executive power for his visa; and all 
 the facts taken down in examination were laid before a 
 jury of eight, who heard the accused and the witnesses, 
 and finally brought in a preliminary verdict, called the 
 
154 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 verdict <T accusation. As this jury, however, met in the 
 Director’s private office, that functionary was pretty cer¬ 
 tain so to bring his influence to bear upon them that they 
 could only work with and not against him. So much for 
 the jury d?accusation. The second jury present in court 
 during the actual trial of the accused, was composed of 
 entirely new names, and called the jury de jugement by way , 
 of distinction from the first. 
 
 As for the Criminal Tribunal (re-named the Criminal 
 Court by Napoleon), it consisted of a president, four judges, 
 a public accuser, and a commissary representing the Gov¬ 
 ernment. Still between 1799 and 1806 there were Special 
 Courts, as they were called, empowered to try without a 
 jury, in certain cases and in certain departments; and these 
 Special Courts consisted of judges from the Civil Tribunal. 
 The conflict between special and criminal justice raised 
 questions as to competence which were sent up to the 
 Court of Cassation. If there had been a Special Court in 
 the Aube, a case of an attempt on the life or liberty of an 
 Imperial Senator would no doubt have gone up before it; 
 but in that quiet department there was no provision for 
 exceptional cases. So Grevin sent off the sub-lieutenant 
 to the Director of the Jury at Troyes. The man that had 
 served in Egypt galloped off post haste to Gondreville, and 
 came back with that all but omnipotent functionary. 
 
 The Director of the Jury at Troyes, Lechesneau by 
 name, had formerly been lieutenant of the bailiwick, and a 
 salaried clerk of a committee of the Convention. He was 
 a friend of Malin’s and owed his appointment to him. 
 As an experienced practitioner of the old criminal law, he 
 as well as Grevin had been of great use to Malin in his 
 judicial reforms under the Convention. For which reason 
 Malin had recommended him to Cambaceres, and Leches¬ 
 neau was appointed a receiver-general of taxes in Italy.! 
 Unluckily for his prospects, however, he became involved 
 in an intrigue with a great lady at Turin; her husband 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 155 
 
 ireatened to prosecute for the abduction of a child born 
 
 I adultery, and Napoleon was obliged to cashier the official, 
 echesneau, lying under such obligations to Malin, guessed 
 le importance of the attempt, and came over with a 
 icket of twelve gendarmes and a captain. 
 
 Before setting out, he naturally asked for an interview 
 rith the Prefect. Night was falling, the semaphore was 
 ot available, but an estafette was despatched to Paris to 
 sport such an unheard-of crime to the Minister of Police, 
 le Chief Justiciary, and the Emperor. 
 
 Mesdames Marion and Grevin, Violette, and the Sena- 
 ar’s man, with the justice of the peace and his clerks, were 
 
 II in the drawing-room when Lechesneau came in. The 
 ouse had already been searched, and the justice of the 
 eace, with Grevin’s assistance, was carefully collecting 
 he evidence. The first thing that struck Lechesneau was 
 he profound scheming revealed in the choice of the day 
 ,nd the hour. It was too late to set about seeking circum- 
 tantial evidence. At that time of year it is almost dark 
 ,t five o’clock. Violette had not been able to start sooner 
 n pursuit of the delinquents, and night often means im¬ 
 munity for evil-doers. To choose a holiday when every¬ 
 body was sure to go to see the masquerade at Arcis, and 
 fie Senator equally certain to be at home — did not this 
 insure that there should be no witnesses ? 
 
 ‘ Let us do justice to the clearsightedness of the agents 
 of the prefecture of police,’ said Lechesneau. ‘ They have 
 :ontinually warned us against the nobles at Cinq-Cygne, 
 and told us that sooner or later they would play us some 
 ugly trick or other.’ 
 
 The Prefect of the Aube, meanwhile, was sending esta- 
 fettes to all the prefectures round about Troyes, with in¬ 
 structions to search for traces of the five masks and the 
 Senator. Lechesneau, feeling sure that the Prefect would 
 take active measures, began by laying down the basis of 
 the legal inquiry. With two such experts as Grevin and 
 
156 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 the justice of the peace, the work went rapidly forward. 
 The justice of the peace, one Pigoult by name, had been 
 at one time head clerk in the solicitors’ office in which Malin 
 and Grevin studied chicanery at Paris. Three months after 
 this affair he was appointed president of the tribunal at 
 Arcis. 
 
 As for Michu, Lechesneau knew that he had previously 
 threatened Marion, and knew likewise about the Senator’s 
 escape that day in the park. These two facts, the one a 
 consequence of the other, were to constitute the two first 
 counts on the present indictment; they pointed to Michu 
 as the ringleader of the band, and this the more unmistak¬ 
 ably since Monsieur and Madame Grevin, Violette, and 
 Madame Marion declared that one of the five masks was 
 exactly like the bailiff. Indeed, the colour of his hair, the 
 man’s whiskers, and thick-set build made a disguise pretty 
 nearly useless. Who but Michu, besides, could have opened 
 the gates of the Cinq-Cygne lodge with a key ? The keeper 
 and his wife, questioned on their return from Arcis, deposed 
 that they had locked both gates before they went; and when 
 the gates were examined by the justice of the peace, assisted 
 by his clerk and the rural policeman, there was no sign of 
 a forcible entrance. 
 
 4 He must have kept the duplicate keys belonging to the 
 chateau, when we turned him out,’ said Grevin. 4 And he 
 must have been meditating some desperate step,’ he added, 
 4 for he has just sold his land. The purchase was to be 1 
 completed in twenty days, and the money was paid over the 
 day before yesterday in my office.’ 
 
 4 They will have arranged to throw' all the blame on him, 5 
 exclaimed Lechesneau, struck by this circumstance. 4 He 
 has appeared as their instrument.’ 
 
 Who could know their way about the chateau bettei 
 than the Simeuses and d’Hauteserres ? Not one of the 
 attacking party had made any mistake; they had gone 
 straight to the point in a way which showed that they knew 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 157 
 
 iite well what they wanted, and where to find it. None 
 * the locks of the cupboards that they left open had been 
 reed. Therefore they had keys. And strange to say 
 ley had not made the slightest disorder. There was 
 ) question of theft. Finally, Violette had not merely 
 cognised the horses; he had actually seen the Countess 
 1 the watch at the Cinq-Cygne gate. All these facts, 
 ken together with the depositions, afforded strong pre- 
 imption of guilt against the Simeuses, and d’Hauteserres, 
 id Michu, even for an unprejudiced tribunal; in the 
 dnd of the Director of the Jury, the presumption of guilt 
 "generated into certainty. 
 
 Now what should they want with the future Comte de 
 fondreville ? To compel him to give up the estate ? It 
 as known that so far back as 1799 the bailiff had said 
 lat he had the money ready. The whole aspect of the 
 ise was changed at once. 
 
 Then Lechesneau asked himself what the object of 
 lat diligent search through the chateau could have been, 
 .evenge was out of the question; the delinquents would 
 ave killed Malm outright. Yet, how if the Senator was 
 :tually dead and buried? And yet, as he had been kid- 
 apped, he was probably under restraint. Why keep 
 lalin under lock and key after the search had been carried 
 ut at the chateau? Clearly it were folly to suppose that 
 dignitary of the Empire could be kidnapped and the affair 
 ept a secret for long. The news would spread so swiftly 
 lat any possible advantage to be gained by secrecy would 
 oon be at an end. 
 
 To these objections, Pigoult replied that justice could 
 ever fathom all the motives in the minds of scoundrels. 
 There were points that were never cleared up between the 
 xamining magistrate and the criminal; there were depths 
 f conscience in which no human power could throw a 
 ight, unless the guilty man chose to confess. 
 
 Grevin and Lechesneau nodded assent to this, but none 
 
1^8 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 the less their eyes pored on the darkness through which 
 they were anxious to see. 
 
 c And the Emperor pardoned them too! ’ continued 
 Pigoult, turning to Grevin and Madame Marion. 1 He 
 struck their names out of the List, though they were 
 mixed up in the last plot against him.’ 
 
 Without further delay, Lechesneau sent off all his force 
 of gendarmerie to the forest and the Cinq-Cygne valley. 
 The justice of the peace was despatched with Giguet, 
 who became, in the terms of the Code, his auxiliary 
 officer of police. The justice’s instructions were to col¬ 
 lect evidence for the prosecution in the commune of 
 Cinq-Cygne, and to proceed, if necessary, to make all pre¬ 
 liminary inquiries. To save time Lechesneau hurriedly 
 dictated and signed a warrant for Michu’s apprehension 
 in case the facts bore out the case against him. Then 
 so soon as the gendarmes and the justice had started off 
 Lechesneau went back to the important work of issuing 
 warrants against the Simeuses and d’Hauteserres, the Code 
 requiring that all the charges against the delinquents should 
 be enumerated in the documents. 
 
 Giguet and the justice of the peace came down upoij 
 Cinq-Cygne so quickly that they fell in with the servant 
 returning home from Troyes, arrested them, and took then 
 before the mayor. When questioned, they answered ii 
 all simplicity, without a suspicion of the importance oJ 
 the answer, that permission had been given to them yes 
 terday to spend the whole day at Troyes. In answer h 
 the justice of the peace, they all made answer alike tha 
 they had not asked for the holiday; Mademoiselle ha 
 offered it to them. 
 
 The judge thought these depositions so important the 
 he sent Giguet back to Gondreville to ask Lechesneau t 
 come over himself to be present at the arrest of the noble 
 at Cinq-Cygne, while he proceeded to the farm-house t 
 take the supposed ringleader, Michu, by surprise, so th; 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 159 
 
 II the arrests might be made simultaneously. So decisive 
 id these new elements in the case appear that Lechesneau 
 darted out at once, with a parting caution to Grevin to 
 eep a strict watch over the prints left by the horses’ hoofs 
 1 the park. 
 
 Lechesneau, Director of the Jury, knew what satisfac- 
 [on would be felt in Troyes with his proceedings against 
 he ci-devants , the c enemies of the people,’ now become 
 he Emperor’s enemies. In such circumstances, a magis- 
 rate readily takes mere presumptions for evident proofs. 
 Nevertheless, as Lechesneau drove from Gondreville to 
 ^inq-Cygne, in the Senator’s own carriage, it seemed to 
 urn that such audacity on the part of Michu and the 
 'oung people was giddy to the last degree, and scarcely 
 vhat might have been expected of Mademoiselle de Cinq- 
 Z!ygne’s intelligence. Lechesneau certainly would have 
 isen high in his profession but for the weakness which 
 >rought him into disgrace in a fit of prudishness on the 
 >art of the Emperor. He thought within himself that 
 here was something more in the abduction of a Senator 
 :han an attempt to extort a renunciation of Gondreville. 
 
 In every occupation — even in criminal investigation 
 — there is something which may be called the professional 
 conscience. Lechesneau’s present perplexity arose out of 
 that conscientiousness with which a man sets about any 
 work that he loves, be he artist, man of science, or magis¬ 
 trate. For which very reason, the accused is probably 
 safer with a judge than with a jury; a magistrate is sus¬ 
 picious of everything but reasoning, whereas a jury is apt 
 to be carried away by fluctuations of sentiment. Leches¬ 
 neau propounded several questions to himself, with a view 
 to getting some satisfactory solution of them by the arrests. 
 
 Though all Troyes knew already that Senator Malin 
 had been kidnapped, the news had not reached Arcis by 
 eight o’clock; everybody was at supper when the gen¬ 
 darmerie and the justice were sent for; and as for the 
 
160 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 valley of Cinq-Cygne, it was impossible that any one there 
 should have heard of it. 
 
 And so the chateau was again surrounded by gendarmes. 
 This time, however, it was not on a political, but a crimi¬ 
 nal charge; and the compromise that it is sometimes pos¬ 
 sible to arrange with the one department is quite impossible 
 with the other. 
 
 Laurence had only to tell Marthe, Catherine, and la 
 Durieu to stay in the chateau and neither to go out nor to 
 look out of the windows; they obeyed her to the letter 
 The horses had been brought as far as the hollow lane 
 opposite the breach in the fosse. Robert and Michu, the 
 strongest of the group, had contrived to carry the bags quietly 
 down through the gap into a cellar under the stairs in thd 
 tower called Mademoiselle’s Tower. The last journey was 
 made about half-past five, and Michu and the four gentle¬ 
 men at once proceeded to bury the hoard. Laurence anc 
 the d’Hauteserres thought it expedient to wall up the cellail 
 and Michu with Gothard’s help set about the work 
 Gothard was sent to the farm-house for some cement, lef 
 over when the new house was built, and Marthe went hom< 
 to give him the bags in secret. Michu’s new house was oi 
 the very knoll from which he saw the gendarmes’ caps tha 
 November night, and the way to it lay along the hollov 
 lane. Michu, being ravenously hungry, did his work s< 
 quickly that the place was walled up by half-past seven 
 He had sent Gothard for another bag of cement, and find 
 ing that he did not want it after all, he hurried home t 
 stop the boy. 
 
 Even then they were lying in wait about the housej 
 the rural policeman, the justice of the peace, and hi 
 clerk heard his footsteps and hid themselves till he wa 
 safely inside. Some way off he saw Gothard with th 
 bag of cement on his shoulders, coming toward th 
 chateau. 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 161 
 
 4 It is done, boy/ he shouted ; 4 take that back, and come 
 i and have supper with us.’ 
 
 Michu’s brow was covered with perspiration, his clothes 
 ere soiled with cement and earth from the stones taken 
 at of the breach; he was in great spirits as he came into 
 le kitchen where Marthe and her mother had put the 
 >up on the table and were waiting for him. 
 
 Just as Michu turned on the tap to wash his hands, the 
 istice of the peace appeared with his clerk, and the police- 
 lan behind him. 
 
 4 What do you want with us, M. Pigoult ?’ asked 
 lichu. 
 
 4 In the name of the Emperor and the law, I arrest you,’ 
 burned the justice of the peace; and the three gendarmes 
 ame in, bringing Gothard with them. Marthe and her 
 lother saw the metal rims of the gendarmes’ caps and 
 >oked at each other in terror. 
 
 4 Oh, pshaw ! What for ? ’ asked Michu, sitting down to 
 le table. — 4 Give me my supper,’ he said to his wife, 4 1 
 starving.’ 
 
 The justice held out the warrant. 
 
 4 You know why as well as we do,’ he said, beckoning 
 ) the clerk to come forward and draw up the report. 
 
 4 Well, Gothard, what are you gaping at ? Do you 
 rant your supper or do you not ? Let them write down 
 heir rubbish,’ said Michu. 
 
 4 Do you see the state of your clothes ? ’ remarked the 
 istice. 4 You cannot , J eny that any more than you can 
 eny what you said to Gothard outside in the yard.’ 
 
 Michu’s wife was amazed by his coolness. He ate 
 oraciously and answered no questions; he had a clear 
 onscience and his mouth was full. A dreadful misgiving 
 :ook Gothard’s appetite away. 
 
 4 Look here,’ said the rural policeman, in Michu’s ear. 
 What have you done with the Senator? From what 
 hey say, it is a matter of life and death for you.’ 
 
x6a A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 ‘ Oh ! my God ! ’ cried Marthe. She had overheard the 
 last few words, and dropped down as if thunder-struck. 
 
 ‘Violette must have played us some ugly trick!’ ex¬ 
 claimed Michu, recollecting Laurence s words. 
 
 c Oh! so you knew that Violette saw you ? said the 
 
 justice. 
 
 Michu bit his lips and resolved to say not another word. 
 Gothard followed his example. The justice saw that it 
 was useless to try to extract a word from him, Michu : 
 1 contrariness ’ being well known in the country-side; s( 
 he ordered the men to tie his hands and Gothard’s also 
 and to bring them to the chateau. Then he went to joir 
 the Director of the Jury. 
 
 Laurence and the rest of the party were so hungry, am 
 dinner a matter of such extreme interest, that none of then 
 changed their dress, but went straight into the drawing 
 room, she in her habit, and the rest of the party in the! 
 white doeskin breeches and green jackets. Monsieur an 
 Madame d’Hauteserre were both anxious enough. Th 
 old gentleman had noticed their comings and goings, t 
 say nothing of their evident want of confidence in bin 
 for Laurence could not issue instructions to the eldc 
 d’Hauteserres as to the rest of the household. So whe 
 one of his sons evaded his questions and took refuge i 
 flight, he spoke to his wife. 
 
 ‘ I am afraid Laurence has been cutting out some moi 
 
 i What have you been hunting to-day ? ’ asked Madam 
 d’Hauteserre, turning to Laurence. 
 
 ‘ Ah! some day you shall hear about the mischie 
 that your children have been in,’ Laurence answer* 
 
 laughing. , 
 
 She spoke jestingly, but the old lady shivered at the word 
 Catherine announced that dinner was ready. Laurem 
 took M. d’Hauteserre’s arm, smiling to herself at t 
 mischievous trick she had played her cousins, for oi 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 163 
 
 ' them was bound to offer an arm to old Madame 
 Hauteserre, their oracle by common consent. 
 
 The Marquis led Madame d’Hauteserre to her place, 
 he Benedicite was said, and the situation grew so solemn 
 lat Laurence and her cousins could feel the violent throb- 
 ng of their hearts. Madame d’Hauteserre, as she helped 
 tern, was struck with the Simeuses’s anxious expression 
 id the agitation in Laurence’s sheep-like countenance. 
 
 4 Something unusual has happened ! ’ exclaimed the lady, 
 •oking round at them. 
 
 4 To whom do you speak ? ’ asked Laurence. 
 
 4 To all of you.’ 
 
 4 For my own part, mother, I am as ravenous as a wolf/ 
 kid Robert. 
 
 Madame d’Hauteserre, still troubled in her mind, handed 
 le Marquis a plate which she meant for his younger 
 rother. 
 
 Ml am like your mother,’ she said, addressing him. 4 1 
 Continually make mistakes in spite of your cravats. I 
 lought I was helping your brother.’ 
 
 a 4 You have helped him better than you think for,’ said 
 foe younger Simeuse, turning paler. 4 He is the Comte de 
 Cinq-Cygne.’ 
 
 He, poor boy that had been so merry, was to be sadder 
 iow for the rest of his days; but he forced a smile as he 
 ooked at Laurence, and shut his lifelong regret within 
 timself. In a moment the lover became the brother. 
 
 4 What! ’ cried Madame d’Hauteserre, 4 has the Countess 
 nade her choice ? ’ 
 
 5 4 No,’ said Laurence. 4 We left fate to act for us, and 
 >ou were the instrument.’ 
 
 She told the history of the morning’s agreement, and 
 while she spoke the Marquis, watching his brother’s white 
 ace, longed to cry out, 4 Take her, and / will go away to 
 lie ! ’ 
 
 c Just as dessert was served, some one outside in the dark- 
 
164 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 ness tapped sharply at the dining-room window on the 
 side of the garden. The elder d’Hauteserre opened it, and 
 admitted the cure. His breeches had been torn on the 
 park railings. 
 
 <• Fly ! ’ he cried. c They are coming to arrest you/ 
 ‘Why?’ 
 
 4 I do not know that yet; but they are coming to take 
 you into custody-’ 
 
 There was a general outburst of laughter at this. 
 
 ‘ We have done nothing ! ’ the four young men cried out. 
 
 4 Innocent or guilty, take horse for the frontier. When 
 you are there you can establish your innocence. You may 
 get over a condemnation for contempt of court, but there is 
 no getting over a conviction obtained by popular clamour, 
 a foregone conclusion from the first. Do you remember 
 what President de Harlay said ? — “ If I were accused of 
 carrying off the towers of Notre Dame, the first thing I 
 should do would be to run away.” ’ 
 
 4 But if you run away, do you not acknowledge that you 
 are guilty ? ’ remonstrated the Marquis de Simeuse. 
 
 4 Do not fly ! ’ said Laurence. 
 
 4 Heroic nonsense as usual,’ cried the cure, in despera¬ 
 tion. 4 If I had God’s power for a moment, I would carry 
 you off. But if they find me here in this state, they will 
 turn my singular visit against you and me; I shall escape 
 by the same way. Consider ! There is still time. You 
 are surrounded in all other directions, but they forgot the 
 wall of the parsonage garden.’ 
 
 The cure, poor man, was scarcely gone before the court¬ 
 yard rang with the clank of sabres and trampling horse 
 hoofs; the Abbe Goujet’s advice, it seemed, was to mee 
 with no more success than the Marquis de Chargeboeuf s 
 
 The younger brother turned to Laurence. 4 Ou 
 common existence was out of the course of the laws of 
 nature,’ he said, in a melancholy tone, 4 and our love is ou 
 of the ordinary course of nature, too. This abnorma 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 165 
 
 jiing has won your heart. Perhaps it is because natural 
 iws are set aside, that all the stories of the lives of twins 
 re so sad. You see in our own case how persistently fate 
 ogs us. Here is your decision, fatally deferred/ 
 
 Laurence, in a sort of stupor, heard the Director of the 
 ury speaking; the ominous words were droning in her 
 ars. 
 
 4 In the name of the Emperor and the law, I arrest 
 he Sieurs Paul Marie and Marie Paul de Simeuse, Adrien 
 nd Robert d’Hauteserre!’ He turned to the men with 
 tim and pointed out the splashes of mud on the clothes of 
 he accused. 4 The gentlemen cannot deny that they have 
 pent part of the day on horseback,’ he said. 
 
 c Of what do you accuse them ? ’ Mademoiselle Cinq- 
 Zygne asked haughtily. 
 
 c Do you not take Mademoiselle into custody ? ’ inquired 
 3iguet. 
 
 4 I will leave her out on bail, until the evidence against 
 ler has been examined more fully.’ 
 
 Goulard offered bail, simply asking the Countess to give 
 ler word of honour that she would not escape. Laurence 
 :rushed the sometime huntsman of the House of Simeuse 
 vith a glance so disdainful that she made a mortal enemy 
 }f the man. The tears stood in her eyes, tears of rage 
 :hat reveal a hell of inward anguish. The four nobles 
 exchanged stern glances and stood passive. As for Monsieur 
 md Madame d’Hauteserre, in their terror lest Laurence 
 and the young people had been deceiving them, they had 
 sunk into a stupor which no words can describe. They 
 had passed through so many fears for their children and 
 won them back again, and now they sat glued to their arm¬ 
 chairs, staring before them with unseeing eyes; listening, 
 and hearing not a word. 
 
 c M. d’Hauteserre, is it necessary to ask you to go bail 
 for me ? ’ cried Laurence; the sound of her voice rang out 
 shrill and heart-searching as the trumpet of doom on her 
 
166 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 old guardian’s ears. He understood all. He brushed the 
 tears from his eyes and replied faintly: — 
 
 i Pardon me, Countess . . . you know that I am de-i 
 voted to you, body and soul.’ 
 
 Lechesneau had been impressed at first by finding the, 
 delinquents quietly at dinner; but his first suspicions* 
 returned at the sight of Laurence’s thoughtful look, and 
 the dazed faces of the old people. Laurence was trying to 
 guess the snare set for them. 
 
 c Gentlemen,’ Lechesneau said civilly, c you are too well 
 bred to make useless resistance. Will you, all four of youJ 
 come with me to the stables? Your horses’ shoes mustj 
 be removed in your presence; they may prove your guilt 
 or innocence in the trial, and will be of importance as evi¬ 
 dence. Will you also come with us, Mademoiselle ? ’ 
 Lechesneau had sent for the Cinq-Cygne blacksmith 
 and his boy as experts. While this operation was going 
 forward in the stables, the justice of the peace brought 1 
 Gothard and Michu to the chateau. The work of tak¬ 
 ing off the horseshoes, and sorting and marking them, so 
 as to compare them with the prints left in the park, tookj 
 some time. Nevertheless, on Pigoult’s arrival, Lechesneau 
 left the accused with the gendarmes, and went back to the 
 dining-room to dictate the preliminary reports. Pigoult 
 pointed out the state of Michu’s clothes, and related the 
 circumstances of the arrest. 
 
 ‘They must have murdered the Senator and plastered 
 him up in a wall somewhere,’ concluded the justice of the 
 peace. 
 
 ‘I am afraid so, now,’ replied Lechesneau. ‘Wherq 
 did you get the cement?’ he asked, turning to Gothard, 
 Gothard began to cry. 
 
 4 He is scared of the law,’ said Michu. His eyes flashed 
 fire; he looked like a lion caught in a net. 
 
 By this time the servants were released by the mayor 
 and came crowding into the antechamber to find Catherine 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 167 
 
 id the Durieus crying together. From them they learned 
 e importance of the admission they had made. Every 
 lestion put by the Director of the Jury or Pigoult, 
 othard answered with sobs. He sobbed so much, in 
 ct, that something like an attack of convulsions came 
 1 , and frightened them, and they let him alone. The 
 tie rogue, when he saw that they were not watching, 
 oked at Michu and smiled. Michu gave him an approv- 
 g glance. Lechesneau left Pigoult, and went out to 
 jrry his experts. 
 
 There was a pause, then Madame d’Hauteserre at last 
 irned to Pigoult. ‘Can you explain the reason of the 
 rrest, Monsieur ? ’ she asked. 
 
 ‘ The gentlemen are accused of carrying off the Senator 
 y main force, and of illegally detaining him in confine¬ 
 ment; for, in spite of appearances, we do not go so far as 
 > suppose that they have taken his life.’ 
 
 ‘ And what penalty is incurred by such a crime ? ’ asked 
 Id d’Hauteserre. 
 
 ‘ Well, since the laws not invalidated by the Code still 
 emain in force, the penalty is death,’ replied the justice of 
 fie peace. 
 
 ‘Death!’ cried Madame d’Hauteserre, and she fainted 
 way. At this moment the cure appeared with his sister, 
 vfademoiselle Goujet called Catherine and la Durieu. 
 
 ‘We have not so much as seen your damned Senator! 5 
 oared Michu. 
 
 ‘ Madame Marion, Madame Grevin, M. Grevin, the Sen¬ 
 ior’s own man, and Violette cannot say as much for you, 
 eturned Pigoult, with a sour smile of magisterial conviction. 
 
 ‘ I can make nothing of this,’ said Michu. The answer 
 tupefied him. Now, for the first time, he began to think 
 hat he and his masters had been entangled in some plot 
 yoven to take them. 
 
 1 Just at that moment the party returned from the stables. 
 Laurence hurried to Madame d’Hauteserre, and that lady 
 
168 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 recovered consciousness to say to her, 4 The penalty is 
 death! ’ 
 
 ‘Death! ’ repeated Laurence, looking round at the four. 
 The word spread a dismay, which Giguet, as Corentin’s 
 pupil, turned to advantage. He drew the Marquis de 
 Simeuse to a corner of the dining-room. 4 It can all be 
 arranged even yet,’ he said. 4 Perhaps it is only a joke. 
 Why, confound it all, you have been in the army; be¬ 
 tween soldiers all is understood. What have you done 
 with the Senator ? If you have taken his life, there is no 
 more to be said; but if you have imprisoned him some¬ 
 where, give him up. You can see yourself that the game 
 is up. I am quite sure that the Director of the Jury will 
 suppress the affair, and the Senator will co-operate.’ 
 
 4 We cannot understand your questions in the very 
 least,’ said the Marquis de Simeuse. 
 
 4 If you take that tone, the thing will go far,’ returned 
 the lieutenant. 
 
 The Marquis turned to Laurence. 
 
 4 We are going to prison, dear cousin, but do not be 
 anxious; we shall come back again in a few hours’ time. 
 There is some misapprehension; it will be cleared up.’ 
 
 4 1 wish it may, gentlemen, for your sake,’ said Pigoult, 
 making a sign to Giguet to remove the four nobles with 
 Gothard and Michu. 4 Do not take them to Troyes,’ he 
 said to the lieutenant. 4 Keep them at the station at 
 Arcis. They must be present to-morrow, with daylight, 
 when the horseshoes are compared with the hoof-marks 
 in the park.’ 
 
 Before Lechesneau and Pigoult went, they examined 
 Catherine, Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre, and Lau¬ 
 rence. The Durieus, Marthe, and Catherine declared 
 that they had not seen the family since breakfast. M. 
 d’Hauteserre stated that he had seen them at three 
 o’clock. 
 
 At midnight Laurence was left in the salon with Mon- 
 
Corentin’s Revenge 169 
 
 ur and Madame d’Hauteserre, and the Abbe Goujet 
 d his sister; the four young men who had brought 
 . and love and joy to the chateau, were gone, for a 
 lg time she said no word, and no one ventured to break 
 2 silence. Never was grief deeper nor more complete, 
 sigh at last was heard; it came from Marthe, forgotten 
 a corner. She rose to her feet. 
 
 ‘ Death! Madame. . . . They will just kill them, 
 ough they are innocent.’ 
 
 C what have you done ? ’ said the cure. And Laurence 
 se and went without a word. She wanted to be alone 
 gather up her strength to meet this unforeseen disaster. 
 
Ill 
 
 A POLITICAL TRIAL IN THE TIME OF THI 
 EMPIRE 
 
 At a distance of thirty-four years, in which great revolu 
 tions have taken place, none but elderly people can recol 
 lect the prodigious uproar made all over Europe when 
 Senator of the Empire was kidnapped. The trial of th 
 young men accused of the act roused an amount of intei 
 est and curiosity never equalled, save, perhaps, over th 
 case of Trumeau (the tradesman of the Place Sail 
 Michel); the Widow Morin, under the Empire; th 
 Fualdes and Castaing cases under the Restoration; or th 
 trials of Madame Lafarge and Fieschi under the preser 
 Government. Such an attack on a member of the Senat 
 brought down the Emperor’s wrath; and the tidings of tl 
 arrest of the delinquents followed hard upon the news c 
 the misdemeanour and the negative results of inquirie 
 The forest had been searched far and wide; they h; 
 gone all over the Aube and the neighbouring department 
 and not the slightest trace of their passage, not a sing 
 clue to the Comte de Gondreville’s place of detentic 
 could be found. The Minister of Justice came at a sun 
 mons from the Emperor (after obtaining information fro 
 the police department), and explained the relative positioi 
 of Malin and the Simeuses for Napoleon’s benefit; ai 
 his Majesty, much preoccupied at the time with weigh 
 matters, was inclined to find a solution of the affair in t. 
 
 antecedent facts. . , 
 
 ‘ The young men must be mad,’ he said. ‘ A juri 
 
 170 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 171 
 
 :onsult like Malin is sure to disavow any document ex- 
 orted from him by violence. Keep a watch over these 
 lobles, and find out how they set about the release of the 
 ionite de Gondreville. 5 
 
 The Emperor bade them proceed as quickly as possible 
 n dealing with what he regarded, in the first place, as an 
 ittack upon his institutions; a fatal example of refusal 
 o acquiesce in the changes brought about by the Revolu- 
 ion; an attempt to open up the great question of the 
 National lands, and an obstacle in the way of that fusion 
 )f parties which had come to be the fixed idea of his home 
 )olicy. He thought, in fact, that he had been tricked 
 )y the men who gave their promise to live quietly. 
 
 c Fouche’s prophecy is fulfilled, 5 he said, remembering 
 he words let fall two years ago by his present Minister 
 )f Police. But Fouche had spoken at the time under the 
 nfluence of the impression left on his mind by Corentin’s 
 *eport of Laurence. 
 
 It is difficult under a constitutional government, when 
 lobody takes any interest in a blind, deaf, indifferent, and 
 hankless State, to understand the impetus that a word from 
 :he Emperor gave to his administrative machinery. That 
 )owerful will of his seemed to compel other things beside 
 men. The word spoken, the Emperor forgot the affair. 
 The Coalition of 1806 took him by surprise. He was 
 :hinking of fresh battles to fight; his mind was taken up 
 vith massing his regiments so as to strike a final blow at 
 he very heart of the Prussian monarchy3 but his desire to 
 ;ee prompt justice done, found a response in the mind of 
 ivery magistrate in the Empire. They saw themselves in 
 i precarious position. Cambaceres, in his quality of Arch- 
 :hancellor, and Regnier, the Minister of Justice, were even 
 :hen drawing up a scheme of Tribunals of First Instances, 
 Imperial Courts, and Courts of Cassation. They were 
 discussing questions of custom right, to which Napoleon 
 justly attached so much importance 3 they were seeking out 
 
ij 2 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 traces of the parlements done away with at the Revolution 
 and revising the lists of clerks and officials. Naturally 
 therefore, the magistrates in the department of the Aub 
 thought that any proof of zeal in the affair of the kidnap 
 ping of the Comte de Gondreville would be an excellen 
 recommendation. And Napoleon’s supposition forthwit 
 became a certainty for courtiers of power and the mass o 
 the nation. 
 
 Peace still prevailed on the continent of Europe, an 
 in France people were unanimous in admiration of tb 
 Emperor; he cajoled men through their interests and var 
 ity, he coaxed, flattered, and conciliated individuals an 
 public bodies, and everything else, even people’s memorie 
 Consequently everybody looked upon a deed of violence ; 
 a design against the public good; and the unfortunate an 
 guiltless gentlemen were covered with general opprobriun 
 A small minority of nobles, confined to their estates, deplore 
 the affair among themselves, but none of them dared to ope 
 their mouths. How, indeed, was it possible to stem tl 
 outburst of public opinion ? The bodies of the eleven me 
 who fell in 1792, shot down from behind the window shu 
 ters of the Hotel de Cinq-Cygne, were dragged from the 
 graves, and the whole department flung them at the heat 
 of the accused. The emigres as a class would wax bol 
 it was feared, and intimidate the buyers of their proper^ 
 by forcible protests against unjust spoliation. The Simeus< 
 and d’Hauteserres were considered to be brigands, robber 
 and murderers; Michu’s complicity was especially fata 
 Every head that fell in the department during the Terroj 
 had been cut off by Michu or his father-in-law; the mo 
 absurd stories were current about him, and the exasperatic 
 was so much the more lively because Malin had put near 
 every functionary in the Aube into his place. Not a sing 
 generous voice was uplifted to contradict the public clamou 
 The unfortunate prisoners, in fact, had no legal means c 
 combating prejudice; for while the Code of Brumaire c 
 
A Political Trial 173 
 
 e year IV submitted the indictment and the judgment to 
 r 0 separate juries, it did not provide the accused with that 
 eat guarantee, the right of appeal to the Court of Cassa- 
 )n if there is evidence to show that a trial will be unfairly 
 •nducted. 
 
 On the day after the arrests were made, the family and 
 rvants at Cinq-Cygne were summoned to give evidence 
 fore the jury d'accusation. Cinq-Cygne was left in the 
 re of the tenant, under the supervision of the abbe and 
 [ademoiselle Goujet, who took up their abode there, 
 [ademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne and Monsieur and Madame 
 Hauteserre went to stay in Durieu’s little house in one 
 the great straggling suburbs that spread about the town 
 ' Troyes. Laurence saw with a contraction of the heart 
 ie fury of the populace, the hatred of the bourgeoisie, the 
 utility of the administration; it was all brought home to 
 tv in the many little incidents which always befall the 
 latives of the defendants in a trial held in a country town, 
 istead of encouraging or compassionate words, she heard 
 mversations meant for her to hear; a dreadful, clamorous 
 -sire for vengeance. Demonstrations of hate took the 
 ace of the strict politeness and reserve required by the 
 :casion; and most of all, she felt the isolation that any one 
 :els in such a case, and so much the more keenly because 
 Iversity teaches distrust. Laurence had recovered all her 
 rength. Her cousins’ innocence was evident, she despised 
 te crowd too much to be frightened by its silent disapproval, 
 ie kept up her companions’ courage, thinking all the while 
 f that battle, which to judge from the rapidity of the pro¬ 
 cure, must very soon be fought out in the criminal court, 
 ut her courage was to sink after an unexpected blow. 
 
 In the midst of their troubles, and the turn of the 
 Dpular feeling against them, just as the unhappy family 
 temed to be alone in a desert, one man suddenly grew 
 *eat in Laurence’s eyes, and showed all the nobleness of 
 s character. This was the Marquis de Chargeboeuf. 
 
iy4 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 The day after the jury d’accusation returned a true bill, wher 
 the indictment, with the formula Ozzz, ily a lieu written a 
 the foot by the foreman of the jury, was sent up to thi 
 public accuser, and the warrant was converted into ar 
 order for the safe custody of the accused, the Marquis, ii 
 his old-fashioned caleche, came bravely to the rescue. Fore 
 seeing that the course of justice was certain to be swift, th 
 head of the house had hurried to Paris, and brought bad 
 with him one of the shrewdest and most upright of th 
 procureurs of old times. For ten years Bordin had bee: 
 the attorney of the noblesse, and his successor was th 
 celebrated Derville. The worthy procureur at once chos 
 as counsel the grandson of a President of the Parliament o 
 Normandy, a young barrister who had studied under hin 
 and was aiming at an appointment (and, in fact, after th 
 trial, this young M. de Granville was nominated to a 
 office revived by the Emperor, and became deputy publ: 
 prosecutor at Paris, and one of the most famous magistrate 
 of our time). 
 
 M. de Granville took up the case as an opportunity o 
 distinguishing himself on his first appearance before th 
 public. In those days, barristers ( avocats ) were replace 
 by officially appointed counsel, so that no case might h 
 left undefended, and any citizen might plead the cause o 
 innocence; but for all that, the accused usually employe 
 a barrister, as before. 
 
 The old Marquis was startled by the havoc that sorro 
 had wrought in Laurence; but he behaved with admirab 
 taste and tact. Not a word did he say of wasted advic 
 He introduced Bordin as an oracle to be obeyed to tl 
 letter, and young M. de Granville as a champion in who 
 they might put entire confidence. 
 
 Laurence held out her hand to the Marquis; her cordi 
 grasp charmed him. 
 
 ‘ You were right,’ she said. 
 
 c Will you listen to my advice this time ? ’ he asked. 
 
A Political Trial 175 
 
 The Countess made a sign of assent; Monsieur and 
 ladame d’Hauteserre did likewise. 
 
 c Very well. Come to my house ; it is in the middle of 
 le town and close to the court-house. You and your 
 Dunsel will be better lodged there than here, where you 
 *e huddled up together and much too far from the scene 
 f action. You would have to cross Troyes every day.’ 
 
 Laurence accepted the offer. M. de Chargeboeuf took 
 le two ladies to his house, and all through the trial the 
 !inq-Cygne party and their counsel stayed there. After 
 inner, when the doors were shut, Bordin made Laurence 
 dl the whole story exactly as it happened, begging her 
 ot to leave out a single particular; although he and the 
 3 ung lawyer had heard it already in part from the Marquis 
 aring their journey from Paris to Troyes. Bordin sat 
 stening, with his feet to the fire, without the slightest 
 sumption of consequence. As for the counsel, young 
 1 . de Granville, he was divided between admiration of 
 lademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne and the attention he was 
 aund to give to the facts of the case. 
 c Is that quite all ?’ asked Bordin, when Laurence had 
 >ld the whole story of the drama down to that day. 
 c Yes,’ said she. 
 
 The deepest silence prevailed for some minutes. One 
 f the most solemn scenes in a man’s life, and one that 
 ddom comes into ordinary experience, was taking place 
 1 that room in the Hotel de Chargeboeuf. Every case is 
 ied by counsel before it comes before a judge, just as 
 rery death is foreseen by the doctor before the final strug- 
 e with the laws of nature. Laurence, Monsieur and 
 ladame d’Hauteserre, and the Marquis sat with their 
 res fixed upon the procureur's dark old face, with its 
 ?ep seams left by the small-pox. Life or death ? — he 
 as about to pronounce the word. Laurence glanced at 
 I. de Granville, and saw that he looked downcast. 
 c Well, my dear Bordin? ’ said the Marquis, holding out 
 
176 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 his snuff-box, which the procureur took in an absent) 
 minded fashion. Bordin rubbed the calves of his legs (hi 
 wore black cloth breeches and black floss silk stockings; 
 and the long coat of the eighteenth century); then he turned 
 his crafty eyes upon his clients, but there was a misgivim 
 in their expression which struck a chill into them. 
 
 4 Am I to dissect this case/ asked he, 4 and tell you frankl 
 what I think ? 5 
 
 4 Pray go on, Monsieur/ said Laurence. 
 
 4 All that you have done with good intent turns again: 
 you/ Bordin proceeded to say. 4 You cannot save you 
 relatives; you can only try to get them off easily. Th 
 fact that you told Michu to sell his land will be taken 2 
 proof positive of your criminal designs upon the Senato 
 You sent off your servants to Troyes on purpose to b 
 alone; it looks so much the more probable because it is th 
 truth. The elder M. d’Hauteserre made a terrible remar 
 to Beauvisage; it will ruin you all. Something that yo 
 yourself said in your own courtyard proves that you hav 
 borne ill-will to Gondreville for some time past. As fc 
 you, indeed, you were acting as sentinel at the park gat< 
 when the thing was done; if they do not proceed again 
 you it is simply because they wish to avoid an element c 
 interest in the case.’ 
 
 4 The case is not defensible/ said M. de Granville. 
 
 4 So much the less so because the truth cannot now b 
 told. Michu, the MM. de Simeuse and d’Hauteser; 
 are bound simply to assert that they were out in the fo 
 est with you for a part of the day, and that they breal 
 fasted at Cinq-Cygne. But if we can prove that yc 
 were all there at three o’clock, the time of the deed, wb 
 are the witnesses ? Marthe, wife of one of the defendant 
 the Durieus and Catherine, all in your service, and Monsiei 
 and Madame d’Hauteserre, parents of two of the accuse 
 Such witnesses are worthless; the law will not take the 
 testimony against you, and common sense rejects the 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 177 
 
 idence in your favour. If you were so ill-advised as to 
 y that you had gone out to find eleven hundred thousand 
 ancs in gold in the forest, you would send all five of 
 em to the hulks as robbers. The Public Accuser, the 
 ry, the bench, the audience, and every creature in France 
 ould think that you stole the gold from Gondreville and 
 ut him up in order to do the deed. Taking the indict- 
 ent as it stands the case is not clear against you; but 
 ven the simple truth, the whole thing looks absolutely 
 ansparent; the jury will think that the robbery clears up 
 ery obscure point, for a Royalist means a brigand nowa- 
 tys. As it stands the case points to an act of revenge not 
 admissible in the political situation. The accused have 
 curred the extreme penalty, but that is no disgrace in peo- 
 e’s eyes; whereas if you bring the abstraction of specie 
 to the affair, it must seem an unlawful proceeding, and you 
 ill lose a certain amount of interest that the public takes 
 the condemned, so long as the crime appears excusable, 
 at the very beginning you could have produced your map 
 the forest, and shown the hiding-places, the tin canisters, 
 td the money, so as to account for your day, you might 
 >ssibly have got off before impartial magistrates ; but as 
 ings are, silence must be kept. God send that none of 
 e defendants have compromised the case; but we shall 
 e what we can make out of their examination.’ 
 
 Laurence wrung her hands despairingly and raised her 
 es to heaven in her distress; the depths of the gulf into 
 hich her cousins had fallen were opened out before her 
 r the first time. The Marquis and M. de Granville both 
 proved Bordin’s terrible discourse. Old d’Hauteserre 
 as crying. 
 
 c Why did you not listen to the Abbe Goujet, when he 
 anted them to fly? ’ Madame d’Hauteserre cried in exas- 
 ration. 
 
 1 4 Ah ! ’ exclaimed Bordin. c If you could have saved 
 'em and did not do so their death will lie at your door. 
 
iy8 A Goridreville Mystery- 
 
 Judgment for contempt of court gains time. And wit 
 time the innocent clear up their affairs. This is the black 
 est-looking case I have ever seen in my life, and I hav 
 seen some tolerably crooked ones, too.’ 
 
 ‘ It is inexplicable for everybody, even for us,’ adde 
 M. de Granville. ‘If the accused are not guilty somebod 
 else has done this. Five people don’t come up by magi 
 in a place, nor are their horses shod exactly in the san 
 way as the horses of the accused, nor do they put Malin i 
 a pit, and make up to resemble the MM. de Simeus 
 d’Hauteserre, and Michu, on purpose to ruin them. T 1 
 persons unknown, the real delinquents, must have h; 
 some motive for slipping into the skins of five innoce: 
 men; and if we are to find them and discover any trace 
 we, like the government, should want a system of dete 
 tives and a pair of eyes in every commune for twen 
 leagues round-’ 
 
 ‘ Which is out of the question,’ said Bordin, ‘ so it 
 useless to think of it. Never since justice was inventi 
 has any community found out how to put at the dispos 
 of the wrongfully accused the power that the magistra 
 can use against crime. The machinery of the judicial sy 
 tem is at the disposal of the prosecution but not of tl 
 defence. The defence has neither detectives nor polic 
 the power of society is not available to prove innocence; 
 is used to prove guilt. Innocence has argument only as 
 resource; and reasoning that carries weight with the juc 
 cial mind is often thrown away upon the prejudiced ed 
 of the jury. The whole country is against you. The eig 
 jurymen who returned a true bill were every one of the 
 proprietors of National land. The jury de jugement Vi 
 likewise consist of officials or buyers and sellers of Natior 
 lands. In short, we shall have a malignant jury on Malii 
 case, and therefore a complete system of defence is a nect 
 sity; keep to it and die in your innocence. You will 
 condemned. We shall appeal to the Court of Cassatic 
 
A Political Trial 179 
 
 id we will try to gain time there. In the meantime I 
 in collect proof, and there is still the appeal to mercy left, 
 'here you have the anatomy of the case and my opinion 
 1 it. If we win the day (for anything is possible in a 
 )urt of law) it will be a miracle; but of all counsel that I 
 low, yours is most likely to work a miracle and I will 
 fip him.’ 
 
 c The Senator is sure to have the key to the enigma,’ 
 Ided M. de Granville ; 4 if any one bears you a grudge you 
 ways know who it is, and why. Here you see a man 
 aving Paris at the end of winter, coming alone to Gon- 
 eville, shutting himself up with his notary, and, as you 
 ay say, playing into the hands of five men who kidnap 
 m.’ 
 
 4 His behaviour, certainly, is at least as extraordinary as 
 irs,’ said Bordin; 4 but how are we to change our position 
 om the accused to accusers, when the whole country is 
 ;ainst us ? You need good-will to do it, and the help of 
 e Government, and a thousand times more proof than in an 
 •dinary case. I can see malice aforethought of the very 
 ibtlest kind in our unknown enemies; they know how 
 [ichu and the MM. de Simeuse stand with regard to 
 [alin. To say not a word, to take nothing! — there is 
 udence for you. They are anything but common crimi- 
 ils behind those masks, I can see ! But imagine yourself 
 ying such things as this to the sort of jury they will give 
 »! 
 
 Laurence was amazed and confused by this perspicacity 
 private affairs, the impersonal clear-sightedness which 
 akes barristers and some magistrates so great. His 
 morseless logic clutched at her heart. 
 
 4 Not ten criminal cases out of a hundred are thoroughly 
 vestigated in a court of law; and in a good third proba- 
 Y the mystery is never cleared up. There are cases 
 hich remain inscrutable for the prosecution and the de- 
 nce, the law and the public, and yours is one of them. 
 
180 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 As for his Majesty, even if the MM. de Simeuse ha< 
 never wished to overturn his Government, he will no 
 interfere, he has other fish to fry. But who the devil bear 
 Malin a grudge ? and why ? ’ 
 
 Bordin and M. de Granville looked at one anothei 
 They looked as though they doubted whether Laurenc 
 had told the truth; and among all the many painful ex 
 periences during the trial, that moment of poignant anguis 
 was the worst. She looked at her counsel, and their susp 
 cions died away. 
 
 The next day the report of the examination was in th 
 counsel’s hands, and they were allowed to communicat 
 with the accused. Bordin informed the family that th 
 accused, as upright men, 4 were keeping up well,’ in prc 
 fessional phrase. 
 
 4 M. de Granville is going to defend Michu,’ sa^ 
 Bordin. 
 
 4 Michu? — ’ cried M. de Chargeboeuf, surprised at tl 
 change of plan. 
 
 4 He is the heart of the affair, and that is where t\ 
 danger lies,’ returned Bordin. 
 
 4 If he is the most exposed, the thing seems fair,’ crie 
 Laurence. 
 
 4 We can see a few chances,’ said M. de Granville, 4 an! 
 we shall study them thoroughly. If it is possible to g< 
 them off, it will be because M. d’Hauteserre told Mich 
 to mend one of the posts in the fence by the hollow wa 
 and mentioned that a wolf had been in the forest. In 
 criminal court all turns upon the pleading, and the plea< 
 ing turns on little things that may become immense, as yc 
 will see.’ 
 
 Then Laurence sank into a mental prostration that inv; 
 riably deadens the soul of every energetic person, when 
 is apparent that nothing they can do is of any avail. Th 
 was no question of compassing the downfall of a man or 
 government with the aid of a devoted band of men; he 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 181 
 
 as no scope for fanatical zeal enveloped in dark mystery. 
 11 classes were up in arms against her and her cousins. It 
 impossible, single-handed, to break open a prison; nor can 
 >u effect a rescue when the whole population is hostile to 
 e prisoners, and the police are put on their mettle by the 
 pposed audacity of the accused. Young M. de Granville 
 as alarmed by the stupor that came over the high-spirited, 
 merous girl, a stupor which her appearance exaggerated, 
 e tried to raise her courage, but she answered, c I am 
 aiting and suffering in silence.’ 
 
 The words spoken in such a tone, with such a look and 
 isture, were among the sublime things that would be 
 mous if spoken on a wider stage. A few minutes 
 iterwards old d’Hauteserre said to the Marquis de 
 hargeboeuf: — 
 
 c The trouble that I have taken for my two unlucky 
 >ys! I had saved till there was an income of nearly 
 ght thousand livres for them, from investments in the 
 nds. If they had only chosen to go into the service 
 ey would have taken good positions and might have 
 arried very well at this day. And here are all my plans 
 )ne to wreck and ruin ! ’ 
 
 c How can you think of their interests,’ said his wife, 
 vhen honour and life is involved ? ’ 
 
 c M. d’Hauteserre thinks of everything,’ said the Marquis. 
 
 While the party from Cinq-Cygne was waiting for the 
 ial to come on in the criminal court, and making fruit- 
 ss applications to be allowed to see the prisoners, some- 
 iing of the greatest importance was going on out of 
 yht at the chateau. Marthe had made her deposition 
 Tore the jury d accusation, but the Public Accuser thought 
 lat her evidence was not worth bringing into the criminal 
 >urt. The poor woman sat in the drawing-room at Cinq- 
 ygne, keeping Mademoiselle Goujet company; she had 
 ink, like many persons of extreme sensibility, into a kind 
 
182 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 of apathy pitiful to see. To her, as to the cure, and in 
 fact to anybody else who did not know how the accused 
 had spent that day, their innocence seemed doubtful, 
 There were moments when Marthe thought that Michu^ 
 with his masters and Laurence, had wreaked their revenge 
 on the Senator. The unhappy wife knew Michu’s devo¬ 
 tion well enough to see that of all the accused he ran th^ 
 greatest danger, both on account of his past and the share 
 that he must have had in carrying out the present affair 
 The Abbe Goujet, his sister, and Marthe lost themselves 
 among the probabilities to which this opinion gave rise, bu 
 by dint of dwelling on these thoughts their minds begar 
 to attach a certain significance to them. The condition of 
 suspended judgment required by Descartes is as hard tc 
 obtain in the human mind as a vacuum in nature; ant 
 the mental process which secures the result is something 
 as abnormal and artificial as the action of an air-pump 
 People have an opinion of some sort under any circum 
 stances. And Marthe was so afraid that the accused wer 
 guilty that her dread amounted to a belief. That fram< 
 of mind proved fatal. 
 
 Five days after the arrest, just as she was going t< 
 bed about ten o’clock, she heard her name called froq 
 the courtyard; her mother had walked over from th 
 farm. 
 
 c There is a workman come from Troyes with a messag 
 for you from Michu,’ she said; c he is waiting for you ii 
 the hollow way.’ 
 
 Both the women took the short cut through the bread: 
 It was so dark in the lane that Marthe could only see 
 man’s form looming through the shadows. 
 
 c Speak, madam, so that I may know if you really ar 
 Madame Michu,’ said a somewhat uneasy voice. 
 c I certainly am. What do you want with me ? ’ 
 c Good,’ said the stranger. c Give me your hand ; do nc 
 be afraid of me.’ Then he bent forward and whisperec 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 *83 
 
 Vlichu sent me with a word or two for you. I am one 
 the jailers; if they find out that I have been absent it 
 ill be the ruin of us all. Trust me. Your good father 
 und me my place in time past; so Michu counted 
 1 me/ 
 
 He slipped a letter into Marthe’s hand, and vanished 
 nong the trees without waiting for an answer. Some- 
 ing like a shiver ran through Marthe as she thought 
 at now, no doubt, she should know the secret. She 
 n to the farm with her mother, and locked herself in 
 read the letter. 
 
 % 
 
 4 My dear Marthe,— You may reckon on the discre- 
 m of the bearer; he can neither read nor write. He 
 one of the staunchest Republicans of the Babeuf con- 
 >iracy. Your father often made him useful, and he 
 oks on the Senator as a traitor. Well, now, dear wife, 
 e have shut up the Senator in the vault where the mas- 
 rs were hidden once before. The wretch has only 
 ctuals enough for five days, and as it is to our interest 
 lat he should live, take him provisions to last for another 
 ve days at least, as soon as you have read these few 
 les. The forest is certain to be watched, so be as care- 
 il as we used to be when the young gentlemen were in 
 ding. Do not speak to Malin; do not say one single 
 ord ; and put on one of our masks; you will find it lying 
 
 I the cellar steps. You must keep the most absolute 
 lence on this secret that I am obliged to tell you. Not 
 word of it to Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne, or she 
 ight show the white feather. Fear nothing for me. 
 /e are sure of coming safely out of this affair, and if it 
 >mes to that, Malin will save us. Lastly, I need not 
 
 II you to burn this letter as soon as you have read it. 
 
 ‘ any one saw a single line of it, it might cost me my 
 iad. Most lovingly yours, 
 
 c Michu/ 
 
184 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 The only persons who knew of the existence of th< 
 hiding-place in the mound in the forest were Michu 
 Francois, the four nobles, Laurence, and Marthe herself 
 so, at least, Marthe was certain to think, for her husban< 
 had said nothing to her of his encounter with Peyrade an< 
 Corentin. The letter could only come from Michu, an< 
 besides, it seemed to be written and signed by him. Ii 
 Marthe had gone at once to her mistress and the tw< 
 lawyers, who knew that the accused were not guilty, th 
 crafty procureur might have gained some light on th 
 treacherous stratagem that had taken his clients; but 
 like most women, Marthe acted on her first impulse, an 
 saw the force of the obvious considerations. She threv] 
 the letter into the fire. Yet, some unaccountable flas 
 of prudence led her to rescue the blank half of the shee 
 and the first few lines. There was nothing there to com 
 promise any one. She sewed the scrap of paper into he 
 dress. 
 
 Then she thought with no little dismay that the pris 
 oner had been without food for twenty-four hours, an 
 resolved to take meat and bread and wine to the vau! 
 that very night. Curiosity and humanity alike forbad 
 her to put off the errand till to-morrow. She heated th 
 oven to bake a couple of round loaves, which she mad 
 herself, and with her mother’s help prepared a gam 
 pasty and a rice pudding, and roasted a couple of fowk 
 About half-past two that morning, she packed the prc 
 visions and two bottles of wine in a basket, strapped 
 about her shoulders, and set off through the forest, takinj 
 Couraut with her. The dog made an admirable scou 
 scenting a stranger at a great distance, and returning 
 his mistress with a low growl, and muzzle turned to th 
 dangerous quarter. 
 
 It was nearly three o’clock that morning when Marth 
 reached the pool and left Couraut on guard. It too 
 nearly half an hour to move the stones from the opening 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 i8 5 
 
 he found the mask on the step as the letter said, and 
 ntered the vault with a dark lantern. Apparently the 
 enator’s imprisonment had been arranged a long while 
 eforehand. There was an opening which Marthe had 
 lot seen on former visits; a hole about a foot square had 
 >een roughly contrived in the door, while the bolt was 
 ecured by a padlock, lest Malin, with a prisoner’s time 
 nd patience at his disposal, should succeed in reaching it 
 rom within. 
 
 The Senator had risen from his bed of moss and heaved 
 . sigh; he guessed at the sight of a masked figure that he 
 vas not yet to be set at liberty. He watched Marthe as 
 veil as he could by the uncertain light of the dark lantern 
 ill at last he recognised her. He knew her by her dress, 
 ler stout figure, and her movements, and when she passed 
 he pasty through the hole he let it fall to catch her by the 
 lands. Swiftly as might be he tried to pull two rings from 
 ler fingers, her wedding-ring and a little keepsake given 
 ler by Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne. 
 
 c You cannot deny that you are Madame Michu, my 
 lear madam,’ he exclaimed. 
 
 At the touch of the Senator’s fingers, Marthe clenched 
 ler fist and dealt him a vigorous blow in the chest. Then, 
 vithout a word, she cut a sufficiently strong stick, and the 
 Jenator received the rest of his provisions on the end of it. 
 
 4 What do they want with me ? ’ he asked. 
 
 Marthe hurried away without replying. She had nearly 
 eached home, towards five o’clock, when Couraut gave 
 varning of the unwelcome presence of some one on the 
 kirts of the forest. Retracing her steps, she went toward 
 he lodge that had been her home for so many years; but 
 .s she came out into the avenue the Gondreville park- 
 :eeper saw her in the distance, and she at once decided to 
 ;o straight toward him. 
 
 ‘You are out very early, Madame Michu,’ was his 
 greeting. 
 
186 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 c We are so unlucky that I have to do a servant’s work, 
 myself,’ she said. c I am going to Bellache for some 
 seeds.’ 
 
 c Then have you no seeds at Cinq-Cygne ? ’ asked he. 
 
 Marthe did not answer. She went on to Bellache and 
 asked Beauvisage to let her have several kinds of seeds. 
 c M. d’Hauteserre had told her to try a change of strain,’ 
 she said. Marthe had no sooner gone than the Gondre¬ 
 ville keeper came over to the farm to know why she had 
 been there. 
 
 Six days afterwards Marthe took the provisions at mid¬ 
 night, so as to avoid keepers. She had learned prudence. 
 Evidently they were watching the forest. A third time 
 she took food to the Senator. The trial had begun, and it 
 was with something like panic that she listened while the 
 cure read the report aloud. 
 
 She took the abbe aside, made him swear to keep her 
 secret as if it were told in confession, showed him the 
 rescued fragments of Michu’s letter, and told him where 
 the Senator lay hidden. The abbe asked at once whether 
 Marthe had other letters in her husband’s handwriting to 
 compare with the burnt scrap; and Marthe went back to 
 the farm on this errand, to find a summons to appear as a 
 witness in the case. When she came back to the chateau, 
 she heard that the Abbe Goujet and his sister had been 
 likewise summoned by the defence, and all three of them 
 were obliged to set out at once for Troyes. In this mannei 
 all the actors in the drama, and even those that might be 
 called the supers, were all assembled on the stage where the 
 fate of two families was at stake. 
 
 There are very few places in France where the sur¬ 
 roundings of justice contribute to that impressiveness 
 which should never be lacking. Religion and kingship 
 apart, is not the judicial system the most important piece 
 of social mechanism ? Everywhere, even in Paris, the 
 shabbiness and bad arrangement of the premises and the 
 
A Political Trial 187 
 
 ick of a proper setting diminish the effect of the enormous 
 ower of the law upon the imagination of a people more 
 ainglorious, more fond of spectacular display in public build- 
 igs, than any other nation of modern times. 
 
 The arrangements are almost the same everywhere, 
 ou enter a long rectangular hall, with a desk covered with 
 reen baize at the further end on the slightly raised platform 
 rhere the judges sit in ordinary arm-chairs. The Public 
 tccuser’s seat is placed to the left, just beyond the jury- 
 ox, a space enclosed along the wall, and provided with 
 hairs for the jury. The accused, and the policemen on 
 uty sit on a bench in a similar enclosed space against 
 hie opposite wall, the counsel for the defence is immedi- 
 tely below, and in front of the prisoners. Below the 
 latform, at a table covered with documents relating to the 
 ase, sits the clerk of assize; and (before the Emperor 
 emodelled the courts) the commissary for the government 
 nd the Director of the Jury used to sit each at a table on 
 ither side of the judges’ desk. Two ushers of the court 
 over about in the space left for witnesses. A wooden 
 talustrade connects the jury-box with the dock at the 
 3wer end, forming an enclosure where benches are placed 
 or witnesses that have given their evidence, and a few 
 Privileged auditors; while a shabby gallery above the 
 ntrance door, and opposite the judges, is reserved for the 
 ccommodation of the authorities, and ladies, and others 
 dmitted by the President who regulates these matters. 
 Vs for the unprivileged public, they are allowed to stand 
 n the space between the wooden balustrade and the 
 ntrance. 
 
 The Criminal Court of Troyes looked like any tribunal 
 r assize court of the present day. But in 1806, neither 
 he President nor the four judges who composed the court, 
 tor the Public Accuser, nor the Director of the Jury, nor any 
 •ne else except the gendarme wore any distinctive dress or 
 >adge of office to relieve the general bareness of the place, 
 
188 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 and tolerably insignificant countenances. The crucifix 
 was lacking, with its moral lesson for the judges and the 
 accused. Everything was dismal and commonplace. The 
 pomp and circumstance so necessary in the interests of the 
 body social, perhaps afford a certain solace to the criminal. 
 People flocked eagerly to the trial, as they always havej 
 done on such occasions, and always will do, so long as 
 manners and customs remain unreformed; so long as 
 France fails to discern that while publicity is by no means 
 secured by the admission of the public, the trial, on the 
 other hand, becomes an ordeal, painful beyond measure; 
 how painful, no legislator can have imagined or it would 
 never have been inflicted. Manners and customs are 
 often more cruel than the law. The manners of the time 
 are the outcome of human nature ; the law is framed by the 
 intellect of the nation, and customs not seldom irrational 
 are stronger than law. 
 
 A mob had gathered about the court-house. The Pres¬ 
 ident was obliged to have the doors guarded by the mili¬ 
 tary, as is usual during sensational trials. Inside, the 
 space between the door and the balustrade was crowded 
 with people so tightly packed that they could scarcely 
 breathe. 
 
 M. de Granville appeared for Michu, and Bordin 
 for the MM. de Simeuse, while a local barrister rep¬ 
 resented Gothard and the MM. d’Hauteserre, the least 
 compromised among the accused. All three lawyer^ 
 were at their posts before the proceedings began. Theiij 
 faces inspired confidence; a doctor never allows a patient 
 to see his misgivings, and a lawyer always shows his 
 client a hopeful countenance. These are the rare cases 
 when insincerity becomes a virtue. 
 
 There was a murmur in favour of the four young men 
 when the prisoners came into court, looking somewhat 
 paler for the twenty days of confinement and suspense. 
 
A Political Trial 189 
 
 Hhe close resemblance between the twin brothers ex¬ 
 ited the highest degree of interest in them. Perhaps 
 ach one thought that Nature should have taken an espe- 
 ial care of one of her most curious rareties, and felt 
 mipted to atone for one of the oversights of fate. Their 
 oble, simple bearing, without a trace of either shame 
 r bravado, impressed the women not a little. All 
 Dur of the gentlemen and Gothard appeared in the cos¬ 
 ame in which they were arrested, but Michu’s clothes 
 eing part of the evidence, he wore his best — a blue 
 reatcoat, a brown velvet c Robespierre’ waistcoat, and 
 
 white cravat. The poor man paid the penalty of his 
 inister looks. A murmur of horror broke from the audi- 
 nce if he made any chance movement, or turned his 
 :een, bright, tawny eyes on them. They were inclined 
 o see the finger of God in his appearance in the dock, 
 /hither his father-in-law had sent so many victims. And 
 te, with true magnanimity, looked at his masters and re¬ 
 pressed an ironical smile. 4 I am doing you harm,’ his 
 yes seemed to say. Five of the prisoners exchanged 
 ordial greetings with their counsel. Gothard still acted 
 he idiot. 
 
 After the counsel for the defence had judiciously used 
 heir right to challenge some of the names on the jury 
 the Marquis de Chargeboeuf had the courage to sit be- 
 ween M. Bordin and M. de Granville to give infor¬ 
 mation on this point), the panel was completed, the 
 ndictment read over, and the accused separated for 
 xamination. Their answers were remarkably similar. 
 They had ridden out in the forest all morning, returning 
 t one o’clock to breakfast at Cinq-Cygne. Afterwards, 
 etween three and half-past five, they were again in the 
 arest. This was the substance of all their statements; 
 he details varied with the particular circumstances in 
 ach case. The MM. de Simeuse, for instance, asked 
 y the President why they had gone out so early in the 
 
19° A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 morning, separately declared that since their return homt 
 they had had thoughts of buying Gondreville; that, a 
 Malin came down on the previous day, they meant t( 
 treat with him, and had gone out with Mademoiselle di 
 Cinq-Cygne and Michu to make a survey on which thei 
 meant to base their offer. Meanwhile the MM. d’Haute- 
 serre, with their cousin and Gothard, had gone after a woll 
 that some of the peasants had seen. If the Directo 
 of the Jury, who found the hoof-marks in the park a 
 Gondreville, had taken as much pains to find the print 
 left in the forest, they could have shown that they ha: 
 been far away from the chateau at the time. 
 
 The examination of the MM. d’Hauteserre confirmee 
 these statements, which agreed with their previous exami 
 nation by the magistrate. Obliged to give some reason fo 
 their excursion, each of them separately hit upon the ide; 
 of a hunting party. Some peasants had seen a wolf in th< 
 forest a few days before, and each of them took this as ; 
 pretext. 
 
 Still the Public Accuser made the most of the discre 
 pancies between the present and the preliminary examina 
 tions, when the MM. d’Hauteserre deposed that they al 
 went hunting together. Now it seemed that the d’Haute- 
 serres and Laurence de Cinq-Cygne had gone hunting 
 while the MM. de Simeuse had been surveying the 
 forest. 
 
 M. de Granville pointed out, that, as the misdemeanoui 
 was committed some time between two and half-past five 
 the accused must be believed when they accounted for the 
 way in which they had spent the morning. 
 
 To this, the Accuser replied that it was to the prisoner’* 
 interest to conceal their preparations for the illegal deten- 
 tion of the Senator. 
 
 Then the skill with which the defence was conductec 
 became apparent to all eyes. Judge, jury, and spectator* 
 soon saw that victory would be hotly disputed. Bordir 
 
A Political Trial 191 
 
 ad M. de Granville seemed to be provided for all contin¬ 
 ences. Innocence is bound to give a clear and plausible 
 ecount of its actions; and therefore it is the duty of the 
 ounsel for the defence, to oppose a probable romance to 
 ae improbable romance invented by the prosecution. If 
 le prisoner’s counsel believes in his client’s innocence, he 
 aows that the case for the prosecution is a myth. The 
 ublic examination of the four nobles gave a sufficient and 
 ivourable explanation of the matter. So far all went well. 
 »ut Michu’s examination was a more serious affair, and on 
 fiat the battle closed. Every one now understood why 
 A. de Granville had chosen to defend the servant rather 
 han the masters. 
 
 Michu admitted that he had threatened Marion, but 
 atly denied the violence attributed to his threats. As to 
 ping in wait for Malin, he said that he had simply been 
 /alking in the park; the Senator and Grevin might have 
 een frightened by the sight of the muzzle of his gun and 
 aken it as a threat when no threat was intended. He 
 •ointed out that if a man is not used to handling a gun, he 
 nay imagine that the muzzle is pointed at him, when, as a 
 natter of fact, it is resting on the owner’s shoulder; and 
 ie accounted for the condition of his clothes, by the fact 
 hat he had a fall as he climbed the gap on his way home. 
 
 c It was too dark to see to climb,’ he said; c I clutched at 
 he stones to hoist myself up to the hollow way, and some 
 »f them came tumbling down on me.’ 
 
 Questioned as to the cement that Gothard was carrying, 
 ie replied now as on all previous occasions, that it was 
 panted to fix one of the gate-posts at the top of the 
 lollow way. 
 
 The Public Accuser and the President both asked him 
 tow he came to be in the gap in the fosse, when he had 
 een mending the gate at the other end of the way, 
 specially as the justice, the gendarmes, and the rural 
 •oliceman all declared that they heard him come up the 
 
192 A Gondreville Mystery- 
 
 lane. Michu replied that M. d’Hauteserre had blamed 
 him for not doing the little job before, because the com¬ 
 mune might raise difficulties about the right of way. So 
 he had gone to the chateau to say that the gate-post had 
 been mended. 
 
 M. d’Hauteserre, as a matter of fact, had put a gate 
 across the hollow lane to prevent the commune from 
 claiming the right of way; and Michu, seeing how impor¬ 
 tant it was to account for the state of his clothes and the 
 use of the cement which he could not deny, had invented 
 this subterfuge. If the truth often looks like fiction in a 
 court of law, fiction, on the other hand, often looks like 
 truth. Both the prosecution and the defence attached 
 great importance to the statement; and all the efforts oi 
 the defence, all the suspicions of the Public Accuser, cen-j 
 tred about this capital point. 
 
 Gothard, prompted no doubt by M. de Granville, ad¬ 
 mitted that Michu told him to fetch some bags of cement 
 hitherto he had always begun to cry as soon as any ques¬ 
 tions were put to him. 
 
 c Why did not you or Gothard take the justice of thd 
 peace and the policeman to the gate at once ? 9 asked thd 
 Public Accuser. 
 
 c I never thought that it was to be a question of life anq 
 death for us.’ 
 
 All the prisoners except Gothard were removed. Wher| 
 the boy was left alone in the dock the President advisee 
 him to tell the truth, in his own interests, reminding him 
 that his pretence of idiocy had broken down. Not one of the 
 jury mistook him for an idiot. If he refused to tell wha 
 he knew he laid himself open to heavy penalties; wherea: 
 by telling the truth, he would probably clear himself 
 Gothard began to cry, wavered, and said at length tha 
 Michu had told him to bring several bags of cement; bu 
 that each time he met him near the farm. They askec 
 how many bags he had brought down. 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 m 
 
 4 Three/ he said. 
 
 At this a dispute began between Gothard and Michu 
 to the number of the bags. Were there three, count- 
 g the bag that Gothard was bringing at the time of 
 s arrest, or three besides the last ? The point was de- 
 Jed in Michu’s favour. The jury held that only two 
 gs had been used, and it seemed that they had made up 
 eir minds on that score already. Bordin and M. de Gran- 
 lle thought it advisable to give them a surfeit of cement 
 1 they grew so confused and weary of it that they under- 
 Dod nothing. M. de Granville in conclusion suggested 
 at experts should be appointed to examine the condition 
 ' the posts. 
 
 4 The Director of the Jury/ urged the defence, 4 was 
 tisfied to inspect the place not so much to obtain the 
 ibiassed opinion of experts, as to find proofs of foul play 
 l Michu’s part. But in our opinion he failed in his duty; 
 id his error should not be turned to our disadvantage.’ 
 
 The court accordingly appointed experts to discover 
 hether a post had recently been set. The Public Accuser, 
 
 I the other hand, tried to turn the circumstance to account 
 ifore the inquiry was made. 
 
 4 So you chose a time of day when it is almost dark, to fix 
 post, and to do it all by yourself? ’ he asked Michu. 
 
 4 M. d’Hauteserre had given me a scolding.’ 
 
 4 But if you used cement over it, you must have taken 
 trowel and a hod. Now, if you went off so promptly to 
 
 II M. d’Hauteserre that you had carried out his orders, it 
 impossible to explain how Gothard came to be bringing 
 )u more cement. You must have gone right past your 
 mse, and in that case you could have left your tools there 
 id spoken to Gothard.’ 
 
 The argument came like a thunderbolt. There was a 
 eadful silence in the court. 
 
 4 Come now/ said the Public Accuser, 4 confess; that 
 
 fie was not dug for the post-’ 
 
 N 
 
194 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 Then do you suppose it was for the Senator ? 9 asket 
 Michu, with intense irony in his tones. 
 
 M. de Granville formally called the Public Accuser t« 
 order on this point. Michu was accused not of murder 
 but of kidnapping and false imprisonment. Nothing coul- 
 be more serious than such a question. By the Code o: 
 Brumaire of the year IV, the Public Accuser was forbidde: 
 to bring up any new charge in the course of the trial; h 
 was bound to keep to the indictment, or the trial would b 
 annulled. 
 
 The Public Accuser replied to the effect that Michu, th 
 prime mover in the affair, had taken all the responsibilit 
 on his own shoulders, to save his masters; and that h 
 might very well have been obliged to block up the entranc 
 to the place as yet unknown, where the Senator groanec 
 
 Closely pressed with questions, worried in Gothard 
 presence, and made to contradict himself, Michu brougl 
 down his fist with a bang on the ledge of the dock. 
 
 4 1 have had nothing to do with kidnapping the Senator 
 he said. 4 1 incline to think that his enemies have simp! 
 shut him up somewhere; but if he makes his appearance 
 you will see that the cement could not possibly have com 
 into the affair at all.’ 
 
 4 Good ! ’ said M. de Granville, addressing the Publi 
 Accuser, 4 you have done more in my client’s defenc 
 than anything I can say.’ 
 
 The court rose, after a bold assertion which took th 
 jury by surprise and told for the defence. The bar q 
 Troyes and Bordin greeted Michu’s young counsel wit 
 enthusiastic congratulations. The Public Accuser was di- 
 turbed in his mind. He was afraid that he had fallen int 
 some trap; and, as a matter of fact, he had walked int 
 a snare very skilfully set for him by the defence, in whic 
 Gothard had just distinguished himself. Wags in tl 
 town said that the case had been patched up; that t\ 
 Public Accuser had made a botch of the business, an 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 l 9$ 
 
 e Simeuses had been whitewashed. Anything in France 
 fair game for a jest, — a jest rules the nation. Your 
 •enchman cuts his joke on the scaffold, in the Beresina, 
 the barricades ; probably, even on the Day of Judgment, 
 ere will be one or two that will make an epigram here 
 A there. 
 
 Next day the witnesses for the prosecution were called, 
 adame Marion, Madame Grevin, Grevin himself, the 
 nator’s man, and Violette made depositions as might be 
 pected. All of them showed more or less hesitation as 
 the four nobles; all were quite certain as to Michu. 
 eauvisage repeated the words let fall by Robert d’Haute- 
 rre; the peasant, who came for the calf, deposed to 
 ving heard Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne’s remark about 
 irning Gondreville. The blacksmiths were called, and 
 mfirmed their previously given evidence as to the horse- 
 oes from the Cinq-Cygne stables, which exactly fitted 
 e prints left by the park gate. Naturally, there was a 
 >t battle over this fact between M. de Granville and the 
 lblic Accuser. The Cinq-Cygne blacksmith was summ¬ 
 oned by the defence, and it came out in the course of 
 e examinations, that precisely similar horseshoes had 
 :en sold a few days previously to persons unknown in 
 e country. The smith likewise declared that he shod 
 enty of horses in that fashion besides those from Cinq- 
 ygne. Finally, Michu’s horse happened to have been 
 od at Troyes, and the prints could not be found among 
 e others in the park. 
 
 c Michu’s double did not know that,’ said M. de Gran¬ 
 ule, looking at the jury, c and the prosecution has failed 
 prove that we used one of the horses from the chateau.’ 
 With withering emphasis he disposed of Violette’s evi¬ 
 nce as to the horses. The man had seen them at a 
 stance with their tails turned toward him. But in spite 
 ’ incredible efforts made on Michu’s behalf, the weight 
 circumstantial evidence against him was too strong. 
 
196 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 The Accuser, the public, the court, and the jury, all felt 
 alike that the servant’s guilt once proven, the masters 5 
 connivance was a necessary deduction. Bordin had rightly 
 guessed where the knot lay when he appointed M. de Gran¬ 
 ville to defend Michu; but by so doing, the defence owned 
 the weak points of their case. Meantime, everything con¬ 
 cerning the ex-bailiff of Gondreville, became a matter of 
 palpitating interest. 
 
 Michu’s demeanour was superb throughout. He dis¬ 
 played all the sagacity with which nature had gifted him; 
 the public could not choose but see that this was no ordi¬ 
 nary man, and, strange to say, for that very reason people 
 felt the more convinced that he was guilty. The witnesses 
 for the defence carried less weight with the jury than th( 
 witnesses for the prosecution; the former appeared to dc 
 their duty, and were heard as a matter of duty. In the 
 first place neither Marthe nor Monsieur nor Madam< 
 d’Hauteserre could be sworn; Catherine and the Durietfs 
 as domestic servants, were in the same predicament. M 
 d’Hauteserre said that he had in fact ordered Michu t( 
 reset a post that had been overturned. The experts’ re¬ 
 port, read at this juncture, confirmed old M. d’Hauteserre’! 
 testimony, but at the same time it told in favour of the 
 Director of the Jury, for it was stated that the commissiof 
 found it impossible to say when the work was done; th< 
 post might have been mended at any time within the las 
 six weeks. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne’s appearance excited th< 
 keenest interest, but the sight of her cousins in the dock 
 after a separation of twenty-three days, affected her sc 
 violently that she looked guilty. She felt a dreadful long¬ 
 ing to be beside her twin cousins. She said afterward: 
 that it was all that she could do to fight down a furiou: 
 desire to kill the Public Accuser that she too might stanc 
 beside them — a criminal in the eyes of the world. Bu 
 she told quite simply how she had seen the smoke in the 
 
A Political Trial 19^ 
 
 rk, as they went back from Cinq-Cygne, and thought 
 at something must be on fire. For some time she had 
 ought that they were burning weeds. 
 
 ‘ And yet,’ she said, ‘ I will call your attention to some- 
 ing which I only remembered afterwards. The folds of 
 y collar and the loops of braid on my habit were filled 
 ith ashes, like burnt papers carried by the wind.’ 
 
 ‘ Was there a considerable volume of smoke ? ’ asked 
 ordin. 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ replied Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne. c I thought 
 at something was on fire.’ 
 
 ‘This may change the whole aspect of the case,’ said 
 ordin. ‘ I make application to the court for an order for 
 ie immediate investigation of the place where the fire 
 as seen.’ 
 
 The President granted the order. # 
 
 Grevin, recalled by the defence, declared that he knew 
 othing on this head. But Bordin and Grevin exchanged 
 ances which let the light into the minds of either. 
 
 ‘So that is where the gist of it lies ! ’ the old procureur. 
 lid to himself. 
 
 ‘ They are on the scent! ’ thought the notary. 
 
 But the shrewd, crafty pair knew equally well that the 
 ivestigation was useless. Bordin knew that Grevin 
 'ould be as close as a wall, and Grevin congratulated him- 
 ,;lf on having cleared away all traces of the fire. The 
 xperts and Pigoult were commissioned to search the park 
 ) as to settle the point, a side issue as it seemed, and a* 
 uerile matter; albeit, it is of capital importance in the 
 ;habilitation which history owes to the accused. They 
 eclared that they found no traces of a fire anywhere, 
 ’wo labourers, produced by Bordin, deposed that by the 
 eeper’s orders they had dug over a piece of burnt turf; 
 vhat had been burned there they could not say. The 
 eeper, recalled by the defence, said that as he went past 
 he chateau on his way to see the masquerade at Arcis, the 
 
198 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 Senator told him to dig over a bit of meadow which he 
 (Malin) had noticed that morning as he walked out. 
 c Had they burnt weeds or papers there ? ’ 
 c I saw nothing to lead me to suppose that papers hac 
 been burnt/ said the keeper. 
 
 The depositions of Mademoiselle Goujet and the cure 
 of Cinq-Cygne made a good impression. As they walkec 
 toward the forest after vespers, they had seen the part) 
 with Michu riding out from the chateau. The abbe’s 
 position and principles lent weight to his words. 
 
 The Public Accuser’s address to the jury was the ordi¬ 
 nary speech made on such occasions. He felt secure of 
 a condemnation. The accused were incorrigible enemie: 
 of France, French institutions, and French laws. The) 
 thirsted for disorder. They had been mixed up in plot* 
 against the Emperor’s life; they had been in the Army of 
 Conde; and yet that magnanimous sovereign had struct 
 their names out of the list of emigres . And this was hov 
 they repaid his clemency!—Out came all the oratorical 
 flourishes used afterwards under the Bourbons against th<i 
 Bonapartists, and again, at a later day, under the Orlean; 
 branch, against Republicans and Legitimists alike. Com¬ 
 monplaces, which might have had some meaning under % 
 long-established government, must seem comic, to say tht 
 least, when history finds them in the mouth of the public 
 prosecutor through every political change. The old saying 
 that arose out of more ancient troubles might be appliec 
 here — c The sign is changed, but the wine is the same as 
 ever! ’ The Public Accuser (in this instance one of th« 
 most distinguished lawyers in the service of the Imperia 
 Government) maintained that the misdemeanour was a sigi 
 of the times, an indication of a deliberate intention on tin 
 part of the returned emigre s to protest against the occupa 
 tion of their forfeited estates. He made his audience shudde 
 duly over the Senator’s present position. Then, his inge¬ 
 nuity stimulated by the certain prospect of a reward fo 
 
A Political Trial < 199 
 
 > zeal, he piled up proofs, semi-proofs, and probabilities 
 one accumulation, and sat quietly awaiting his adversaries 
 e. 
 
 This was the first and last criminal case in which M. de 
 ranville appeared for the defence; but it made his repu- 
 tion. In the first place, he opened his pleading with 
 at irresistible eloquence which we of to-day admire so 
 uch in M. Berryer. What was more, he was convinced 
 at his clients were not guilty, and genuine conviction 
 rries a force with it that nothing else can give. 
 
 The principal points of a defence, which the newspapers 
 * the day reported in full, were as follows: — 
 
 He began by putting Michu’s life in its true light. It 
 as a noble story to tell; the vibrations of the greatest and 
 ghest feeling in it roused the sympathies of many. Michu 
 t listening to his rehabilitation by that eloquent voice, and 
 times the tears overflowed the tawny eyes and trickled 
 /er his stern face. At that moment he looked as he really 
 as, — simple and crafty as a child, and yet a man whose 
 hole life had been ruled by one thought. Suddenly he 
 ad become comprehensible, and his tears completed the 
 relation. The effect produced upon the jury was great, 
 ^he adroit counsel for the defence seized his opportunity 
 ) discuss the indictment. 
 
 c Where is the substantial proof of the charge ? Where 
 the Senator ? 9 he asked. c You accuse us of imprisoning 
 im and even of walling him up with stones and cement, 
 lut in that case we alone know where he is; and as you 
 ave kept us in prison for twenty-three days he must be 
 :arved to death by this time. We are murderers, and you 
 ave not charged us with murder. . . . But, if he is alive, 
 re have accomplices; and if we had accomplices and the 
 enator is still alive, could we not produce him ? When 
 le intentions that you attribute to us have miscarried, why 
 bould we aggravate our position, since there is nothing to 
 e gained by it ? Repentance might possibly buy pardon 
 
200 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 now that we have failed; and yet we are supposed to per¬ 
 sist in detaining a man from whom we can get nothing! 
 Is not this absurd ? You may take away your cement; it 
 fails in its effect/ he continued, addressing the Accuser. 
 4 We are either stupid criminals (which you do not believe) 
 or innocent men, victims of circumstances inexplicable for 
 us as for you. You had far better have looked for that 
 mass of papers burnt in the Senator’s grounds. That fact 
 shows that there is some reason more pressing than your 
 hypothetical one, some other way of accounting for his 
 illegal detention-’ 
 
 Into these suppositions M. de Granville entered with 
 wonderful skill. He dwelt upon the high character of the 
 witnesses for the defence, witnesses whose lively religious 
 faith argued a belief in the future and eternal punishment. 
 On this head he was sublime; he saw how to make a pro¬ 
 found impression. 
 
 4 What! ’ said he, c the criminals are quietly dining after 
 their cousin brings the news that the Senator has been kid¬ 
 napped. The officer sent to arrest them suggests that they 
 should give up the Senator and the affair shall go no fur¬ 
 ther, and they refuse; they do not even know what the 
 charge is.’ 
 
 With that M. de Granville hinted at a mystery; time 
 would provide a clue to it, and the injustice of the accusa-) 
 tion would come to light. Once upon this ground he had 
 the audacity and ingenuity to put himself in the placei 
 of one of the jury; he rehearsed his deliberations with his 
 colleagues; he described his distress of mind, when it was 
 discovered that there had been a mistake, and that he had 
 been the means of bringing a heavy sentence upon inno¬ 
 cent men; he painted his remorse so vividly and recapitu¬ 
 lated all his doubts so forcibly that he left the jury in 
 horrible anxiety. 
 
 Juries in those days were not hardened to this kind of 
 appeal; it possessed the charm of novelty and M. de Gran- 
 
201 
 
 A Political Trial 
 
 ille’s auditors were visibly shaken by it. To M. de Gran¬ 
 ule’s fervid eloquence succeeded the wily and specious 
 tordin. He multiplied considerations, he brought for¬ 
 ward all the obscure points, and made them inexplicable, 
 le set himself to make an impression upon the mind and 
 ldgment, as M. de Granville had appealed to the imagina- 
 •on and the heart. He succeeded, in fact, in entangling 
 he jury with such earnest conviction that the Public Ac- 
 user saw his scaffold falling to pieces. This was so evi- 
 ent that the counsel representing the MM. d’Hauteserre 
 nd Gothard, finding there was no attempt to press the 
 harge against his clients, left his case to the discretion of 
 he jury. 
 
 The Accuser made application for an adjournment; he 
 vould give his rejoinder on the morrow. Bordin, reading 
 cquittal in the eyes of the jury, if they considered their 
 erdict while the effect of the pleading was fresh, objected, 
 m the score of law and fact, to another night of suspense 
 or his innocent clients. In vain. The judges held a 
 onsultation. 
 
 c It seems to me,’ said the President, c that the interests 
 >f the public equal the interests of the accused. The 
 ourt could not refuse such an application if made by 
 he defence, without falling short of all ideas of justice; 
 o it must be granted to the prosecution. 5 
 
 4 44 A miss is as good as a mile, 55 5 said Bordin, looking 
 t his clients. ‘Acquitted to-day, you may be brought 
 n guilty to-morrow. 5 
 
 4 In any case, we can only admire you, 5 said the elder 
 iimeuse. 
 
 Tears stood in Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne 5 s eyes, 
 he had not looked for such a success after the doubts 
 f her counsel. People came to congratulate her, and 
 very one made sure that her cousins would be acquitted. 
 
 But the whole scene was to be changed by a sudden, 
 tartling event, — the most unexpected and ominous occur- 
 
202 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 rence that ever altered the entire aspect of a criminal 
 case. 
 
 Senator Malin was found on the high road to Troyes, 
 at five o’clock in the morning on the day aftei M. de 
 Granville’s pleading! Persons unknown had set him at 
 liberty while he slept; and he was now on his way to 
 Troyes, totally unaware that Europe was ringing with 
 his name, or that a trial was proceeding, and merely glad 
 to breathe fresh air again. If other people were amazed 
 to see the man upon whom the whole drama turned, he 
 was at least as much astounded by the news that they 
 gave him. A farmer lent his cart, and Malin soon reached 
 the Prefect’s house at Troyes. The Prefect sent at once 
 for the Director of the Jury, the commissary, and the Pub¬ 
 lic Accuser; and the Senator told his story. A warrant 
 was made out for Marthe’s arrest, and she was appre¬ 
 hended while still in bed at the Durieu’s. Mademoiselle 
 de Cinq-Cygne, at liberty on bail, was likewise snatched 
 from one of her few brief moments of slumber during the 
 long agony of the trial, and detained at the prefecture to 
 be examined. Orders came to the prison; the accused 
 were not to be permitted to communicate with any one, 
 — not even with their counsel. At ten o’clock, the as¬ 
 sembled crowd was informed that the court would not 
 sit till one that afternoon. 
 
 This change, with the news of the Senator’s deliver¬ 
 ance, the arrests of Marthe and Mademoiselle de Cinq- 
 Cygne, and the isolation of the prisoners, struck dread 
 into the inmost souls of the inmates of the Hotel de 
 Chargeboeuf. It may be easily imagined, too, how the 
 excitement spread among the reporters, and the people 
 who came out of curiosity, till it travelled over the whole 
 town, and even reached the working population. About 
 ten o’clock, the Abbe Goujet came to see Monsieur and 
 Madame d’Hauteserre, and to speak with the counsel; 
 and they all breakfasted together, if people can be said 
 
A Political Trial 203 
 
 o breakfast in such circumstances. Afterwards the cure 
 30k M. de Granville and Bordin aside, told them what 
 /farthe had said in confidence, and produced the scrap 
 f the letter. The lawyers exchanged glances. 
 
 c There is no more to be said! It is all over with us, it 
 eems. Let us at least put a good face upon it,’ said Bordin. 
 
 The Director of the Jury and the Public Accuser combined 
 /ere too much for Marthe. Proof against her, moreover, 
 /as abundant. Lechesneau had sent to search the cell, 
 nd the bottom crust of Marthe’s last loaf had been found 
 here, with several empty bottles and other things. During 
 he long hours of captivity Malin had made conjecture 
 -»n conjecture, and sought every least sign of motive on 
 he part of his enemies. Naturally he communicated 
 verything to the magistrate. Michu’s farm-house had 
 inly recently been built, and as the oven was new the 
 joints of the bricks in the floor had left a sort of pattern 
 >n the crust of the loaf. The bottles, besides, were sealed 
 vith green wax, similar, in all probability, to the wax on 
 he bottles in Michu’s cellar. These shrewd remarks pro- 
 luced the expected results ; the examining magistrate made 
 he identification in Marthe’s presence. Lechesneau, the 
 rfiiblic Accuser, and the commissary impressed her with the 
 dea that nothing now save full confession could save her 
 lusband’s life. Their seeming good-nature at a time when 
 >roof against her was so overwhelming drew the admission 
 hat no one knew of the hiding-place save Michu, the 
 MM. de Simeuse and d’Hauteserre, and that she herself 
 lad carried provisions to the Senator three times during the 
 light. Laurence was obliged to own that Michu had dis¬ 
 covered the hole and showed it to her, as a refuge for the 
 lobles from the police. 
 
 As soon as the precognitions were made, intimation was 
 >ent to the jury and counsel. At three o’clock the Presi¬ 
 dent began by announcing that there were new elements in 
 :he case. Michu was confronted with three wine-bottles, 
 
204 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 and asked if he recognised his property; the prosecution at 
 the same time pointing out that the wax on the empty 
 bottles was precisely similar to that used to seal a full bottle 
 of wine taken from the farm-house cellar by the magistrate 
 in Marthe’s presence. Michu declined to acknowledge them 
 as his, but the fresh piece of circumstantial evidence told 
 with the jury when the President informed them that the 
 empty bottles had been found in the place where the Senator 
 was confined. Each of the accused was examined separately 
 as to the position of the hole in the ruins of the monastery, 
 till, after all the witnesses had been called on either side, it 
 was established that Michu had discovered the place, and 
 that no one knew of it save Laurence and the four nobles. 
 Judge, then, of the effect produced upon the jury when the 
 Public Accuser announced that this very hiding-place had 
 served as the Senator’s prison. 
 
 Marthe was called as a witness. The keenest anxiety 
 was felt by the accused and the audience when she appeared; 
 and M. de Granville objected that a wife’s testimony could 
 not be taken against her husband. But the Public Accuser 
 pointed out that Marthe, on her own confession, was an 
 accessory after the fact, and that therefore she was neither 
 sworn nor called as a witness; she was to be examined 
 simply in the interest of truth. 
 
 ‘ Besides,’ added the President, ‘ we have only to read the 
 report of her examination by the direction of the jury.’ 
 And the preliminary report drawn up that morning was 
 accordingly read aloud by the clerk of assize. 
 
 ‘ Do you confirm these admissions ? ’ asked the President. 
 
 Michu looked full at his wife, and she, understanding 
 her mistake, fainted away. It is no exaggeration to say, 
 that this news fell like a thunderbolt upon the accused and 
 their counsel. 
 
 l I never wrote a line to my wife from prison,’ as¬ 
 serted Michu, ‘ and I do not know a single one of the 
 turnkeys.’ 
 
A Political Trial 205 
 
 Bordin handed him the scrap of the letter; Michu had 
 nly to glance at it. 
 
 c Some one has imitated my handwriting/ he exclaimed. 
 c That is all that is left to you to say/ said the Public 
 iccuser. 
 
 The Senator was now brought in with the due formali- 
 es. His appearance brought about a theatrical change of 
 :ene. At the President’s bidding, Malin, or the Comte 
 e Gondreville, as the judges called him, pitiless to the 
 revious owners of his splendid home, looked long and 
 i arnestly at the accused. He stated that his captors were 
 
 ( ressed exactly like the four gentlemen; but added that he 
 ras so much confused at the time that he could not posi- 
 1 vely state that the accused were guilty. 
 
 c What is more/ said he, c I am convinced in my own 
 lind that these gentlemen took no part in the matter, 
 "he hands that bandaged my eyes were rough and coarse,, 
 md so/ he continued, glancing at Michu, c I should be 
 lore willing to believe that my sometime bailiff undertook 
 lat office; still, I beg the jury to weigh my deposition 
 arefully. My suspicions are of the very slightest; I do 
 ot feel at all sure. And for this reason, the two men 
 rho seized and rode off with me, put me behind the man 
 rho bandaged my eyes, a red-haired man like Michu. 
 uid now, odd as my observation may be, I am bound to 
 lake it, for it tells in favour of the accused, and I beg him 
 ot to be offended by it. I was tied closely to the man’s 
 ack, and, quickly as we rode, I noticed the odour of my 
 aptor, and it was not that peculiar to Michu. As for the 
 roman who brought me provisions from time to time, I 
 m certain that she was Marthe, Michu’s wife. I knew 
 er the first time I saw her, by the ring that Mademoiselle 
 e Cinq-Cygne gave her; she had forgotten to take it off. 
 "he court and the jury will see the contradictions in these 
 lets; I cannot explain them at all as yet.’ 
 
 Malin’s deposition was received with unanimous ap- 
 
206 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 proval and a murmur of applause. Bordin asked leave to 
 cross-examine so invaluable a witness. 
 
 c Has M. le Senateur reason to suppose that his deten¬ 
 tion might be attributed to other causes than the supposed 
 interests of the accused ?’ 
 
 <■ I am certain of it/ said the Senator, c but what the 
 motive can have been I do not know; for I can declare 
 that during my twenty days of imprisonment I have not 
 seen any one. 5 
 
 c Then do you think that at the chateau de Gondreville, 
 there could be any information, titles, deeds, or papers of 
 any importance to the MM. de Simeuse ? ’ 
 
 c I do not think so/ said Malin. c And even if it were 
 so, I believe the gentlemen incapable of taking them by 
 violence. They had only to ask me for them.’ 
 
 c Did not M. le Senateur order papers to be burnt in the 
 park ? ’ M. de Granville asked abruptly. 
 
 Malin looked across at Grevin. It was a sudden, keen 
 glance that did not escape Bordin. Then he denied that 
 he had burnt any papers. 
 
 When the Public Accuser asked about the Senator’s 
 previous narrow escape in the park, and whether he (thei 
 Senator) had not been mistaken as to the position of 
 Michu’s rifle, Malin replied that Michu was on the watch 
 in a tree. This caused a great sensation, for it confirmed 
 Grevin’s testimony. The Simeuses and d’Hauteserres sat ,j 
 unmoved and impassive while their enemy overwhelmed! 
 them with his generosity; to Laurence it was agony sal 
 intolerable that the Marquis de Chargeboeuf again and 
 again caught her arms to hold her back. The Comte de 
 Gondreville withdrew with a bow to the accused. It was 
 not returned, — a little thing that made the jury indignant. 
 
 ‘They are lost!’ Bordin whispered in the Marquis’s 
 ear. 
 
 c Alas ! lost through pride, now, as always/ returned the 
 Marquis. 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 207 
 
 c Our task, gentlemen, has grown too easy,’ said the 
 ublic Accuser, rising to address the jury. 
 
 He accounted for the bags of cement. They had been 
 sed to make the socket for the bolt that fastened the door 
 f the cell in the manner described in the precognition made 
 y Pigoult that morning. He showed, without difficulty, 
 lat no one, save the accused, knew of the existence of the 
 ole. He brought up all the fictions of the defence, and 
 ulverised the arguments with the new proofs obtained in 
 lis miraculous manner. In 1806, it was too soon after 
 793 and the time of the c Supreme Being,’ to talk of the 
 ivine justice; he spared the jury any allusion to the inter- 
 irence of Heaven. Finally, he added that the authorities 
 /ould keep watch for the persons unknown who had set 
 le Senator at liberty, and sat down to await the verdict 
 nth confidence. 
 
 The jury, to a man, were fully persuaded that there was 
 mystery, but that mystery in their opinion had been made 
 y the accused; the prisoners would not speak out because 
 rivate interests of the highest importance were involved. 
 
 To M. de Granville it was evident that there were 
 lachinations of some kind. He seemed, when he rose, to 
 e overwhelmed, and this was in fact the truth, but it was 
 ot so much the new evidence that staggered him, as the 
 lanifest conviction of the jury. His pleading, perhaps, 
 ven surpassed yesterday’s effort, for the second address 
 'as certainly a piece of closer and more logical reasoning 
 lan the first. But the indifference of the jury damped 
 im ; he was wasting words, and he knew it. It was a 
 ainful and numbing position. He pointed out that the 
 enator’s release, as if by magic, and very certainly without 
 le aid of Marthe or any of the accused, confirmed his pre- 
 ious arguments. Yesterday, surely, the accused might 
 ave expected an acquittal; and, if, as the prosecution 
 apposed, they were able to detain or to release the Sena- 
 )r, they would not have chosen to set him free till the 
 
2 o 8 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 verdict was returned. He tried to show that enemies con¬ 
 cealed in obscurity were the only possible authors of the 
 outrage. 
 
 Strange to say, while M. de Granville’s words troubled 
 the professional consciences of the judges and the Public 
 Accuser, the jury listened as a matter of form; and the 
 public, usually so ready to believe in the innocence of 
 the prisoner, was convinced that the accused was guilty. 
 There is an atmosphere of ideas. In a court of law the 
 judges and jury feel the influence of the ideas of the crowd, 
 and vice versa. The state of other people’s minds can be 
 known or felt, and M. de Granville in his peroration rose 
 to a sort of feverish exaltation due to his conviction that 
 his clients were guiltless. 
 
 c In the name of the accused,’ he cried, 4 1 pardon you in 
 advance for a fatal mistake that nothing can explain. We 
 are playthings in the hands of some unknown machiavellian 
 power. Marthe Michu is the victim of a detestably 
 fraud, as people will recognise when the misfortune is 
 irreparable.’ 
 
 Bordin, with the Senator’s deposition as a weapon, askec 
 for the acquittal of the four nobles. 
 
 The President summed up the more fairly because the 
 jury had evidently made up their minds. He even, on the 
 strength of the Senator’s deposition, leaned somewhat tc 
 the side of the accused; a piece of clemency which coulc 
 not injure the case for the prosecution. In accordanct 
 with the verdicts declared by the foreman of the jury a 
 eleven o’clock that night, Michu was sentenced to death 
 the MM. Simeuse to twenty-four, and the two d’Haute 
 serres to ten years penal servitude. Gothard was acquitted 
 The whole court tried to see how the five prisoners wouh 
 bear themselves at the supreme moment when they cam 
 in as free men to hear their verdict and sentence. Th 
 four nobles looked long at Laurence; she flung them bad 
 a martyr’s fiery glance from tearless eyes. 
 
A Political Trial 209 
 
 c If we had been acquitted she would have cried/ the 
 r ounger Simeuse said to his brother. 
 
 Never did accused confront an unjust sentence with 
 [uieter brows nor more dignified bearing than these five 
 r ictims of a villainous plot. 
 
 c Our counsel has pardoned you/ said the Marquis de 
 
 >imeuse, addressing the court. p 
 
 * 
 
 Madame d’Hauteserre fell ill, and kept her bed; for 
 hree months she could not leave the Hotel de Chargeboeuf. 
 vl. d’Hauteserre went peaceably back to Cinq-Cygne; but 
 le was old, he had none of the distractions of youth to 
 >revent the sorrow of age from eating his heart away, 
 iis frequent fits of absence of mind told the cure that the 
 »oor father was always on the morrow of that fatal arrest. 
 There was no need to try Michu’s beautiful wife. Marthe 
 lied in prison three weeks after her husband was sentenced 
 o death. Her son she recommended to Laurence, in 
 yhose arms she passed away. 
 
 As soon as the decision was known, the Gondreville 
 Mystery passed out of people’s minds; amid political 
 vents of the highest importance it was soon forgotten, 
 ociety, like the sea, finds its level, and falls back into its 
 vay again after an upheaval. All trace of a disaster is 
 oon effaced by the fluctuation of moving interests. 
 
 Laurence would have given way in those days if it had 
 iot been for her firmness of character, and her conviction 
 hat her cousins were innocent. She surprised M. de 
 jranville and Bordin by the apparent calmness with which 
 oble natures face the worst. She nursed Madame 
 ’Hauteserre, sitting up with her at night, and every day 
 he spent two hours in the jail. She would marry one of 
 er cousins, she said, when they went to the convicts’ prison. 
 
 ‘The convicts’ prison ! ’ repeated Bordin. c Why, Made- 
 loiselle, there is but one thing to think of now; we must 
 etition the Emperor to pardon them.’ 
 
 o 
 
aio A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 Pardon ? and from a Bonaparte ? 5 Laurence cried out 
 in horror. 
 
 The worthy old procureur's spectacles took a leap frorr 
 his nose, but he caught them, and took a look at this gin 
 that had grown to be a woman all at once. Her charactei 
 was fully revealed to him. He turned and caught the 
 Marquis de Chargeboeuf by the arm. 
 
 c My lord Marquis, let us hurry to Paris,’ he said, c anc 
 save them without her ! ’ 
 
 The petitions sent up by the MM. de Simeuse anc 
 d’Hauteserre and by Michu stood first on the list for th< 
 new Court of Cassation. Happily the decision was de¬ 
 layed by the inaugural ceremonies. 
 
 Toward the end of the month of September, after thre( 
 hearings of the pleadings, and of the attorney-genera 
 Merlin, who appeared in person, the appeal was dismissed 
 Meanwhile, the Imperial Court of Paris was instituted 
 M. de Granville received the appointment of deputy attor- 
 ney-general; and as the department of the Aube cam* 
 within the jurisdiction of that court, he found it impossibl 
 in his official position to take the necessary steps for th 
 condemned prisoners. But he wearied out his patrol 
 Cambaceres. Bordin and M. de Chargeboeuf went to hi 
 house in the Marais on the day after the decision of th 
 Court of Cassation, and found him in the honeymoon, fo 
 he had married in the meantime. But in spite of thes 
 various changes, M. de Chargeboeuf saw clearly, from th 
 young barrister’s distress, that he was true to his clients 
 There are lawyers, and these are the artists of their pro 
 fession, who take a case for a mistress. But this does nc 
 often happen ; the reader had better not count upon it. 
 
 So soon as M. de Granville’s ex-clients wer 
 alone with him in his private room, he turned to th 
 Marquis. 
 
 4 1 did not expect your visit,’ he said; c I have used u 
 all my credit already. Do not try to save Michu; yo 
 
A Political Trial 211 
 
 ill only obtain pardon for the MM. de Simeuse. Some- 
 idy must suffer.’ 
 
 c Good Lord ! ’ cried Bordin, holding up the three ap¬ 
 pals to mercy, c how am I to take it upon myself to 
 ithhold your old client’s demand ? If I throw this paper 
 i the fire, I might as well cut off his head.’ 
 
 He held out Michu’s signature. M. de Granville took 
 up and looked at it. 
 
 ‘We cannot withdraw it,’ he said, 1 but mind this: if 
 du ask pardon for all, you will get nothing.’ 
 c Have we time to consult Michu ? ’ asked Bordin. 
 c Yes. The order for an execution is issued by the 
 :torney-general’s staff; we can give you a few days’ 
 day. Men are murdered,’ he added, with a touch of 
 )mething like bitterness, c but there are certain forms to 
 e observed, especially at Paris.’ 
 
 M. de Chargeboeuf had already been to the Chief 
 usticiary, and recollections of what he had said gave 
 reat weight to M. de Granville’s bitter words. 
 
 c Michu is not guilty,’ continued M. de Granville; 
 I know it, and I say so; but what can one man do by 
 imself with every one against him ? And recollect that 
 am bound now to be silent. It is my duty to raise the 
 :affold on which my client’s head is to fall.’ 
 
 M. de Chargeboeuf knew enough of Laurence to feel 
 ire that she would not consent to save her cousins 
 t Michu’s expense. So the Marquis tried one last ex- 
 edient. He had asked for an audience of the Minister 
 f Foreign Relations, to discover whether diplomacy in 
 igh quarters might not afford a way of escape. He went 
 r ith Bordin, who knew the Minister and had been of 
 ;rvice to him several times. They found Talleyrand 
 Dsorbed in the contemplation of the fire, his feet stretched 
 ut, before him, his head on his hand, and his elbow on 
 le table. A newspaper lay on the floor. He had just 
 een reading the decision of the Court of Cassation. 
 
212 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 c Please sit down, M. le Marquis,’ said the Minister. 
 c And you, Bordin ’ (indicating a place opposite him at the 
 table), c write-’ 
 
 ‘ Sire, — Four innocent gentlemen, declared guilty by 
 the jury, have just been informed that their appeal is 
 dismissed by your Majesty’s Court of Cassation. 
 
 c Your Imperial Majesty can only extend mercy to 
 them. The four gentlemen only ask this favour of your 
 august clemency that they may find an occasion of turning 
 their deaths to account in your Majesty’s service, by 
 fighting under your eyes, and declare themselves to be 
 respectfully your Imperial and Royal Majesty’s ’ etc. . . . 
 
 ‘ Only princes can confer such obligations as this,’ said 
 the Marquis de Chargeboeuf, taking the precious draft of 
 the memorial from Bordin’s hands, and vowing inwardly 
 to obtain august support for it. 
 
 <■ The lives of your relatives hang on the fortune of 
 war, M. le Marquis,’ said the Minister. ‘Try to time 
 your interview with the Emperor after a victory, and 
 they will be saved.’ 
 
 Talleyrand took up the pen and wrote a confidential 
 letter to the Emperor, and a dozen lines for Marsha! 
 Duroc. Then he rang the bell and asked his secretary foi 
 a diplomatic passport. 
 
 ‘ What is your real opinion of this affair ? ’ he asked, 
 quietly turning to Bordin. 
 
 L Then do you not know, Monseigneur, who has 
 entangled us so thoroughly ? ’ 
 
 c I think I do, but I have my reasons for wishing tc 
 make sure,’ returned the Prince. Then, turning to the 
 Marquis de Chargeboeuf, he added, ‘Go to Troyes 
 Bring back the Comtesse de Cinq-Cygne with you here 
 to-morrow at this time; but no one must know of he, 
 arrival. Go to Madame de Talleyrand’s apartments \ I wil 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 213 
 
 >repare her for your visit. Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne 
 ihall be placed where she can see a man who will stand in 
 ront of me. If she recognises in him an agent who made 
 he domiciliary visit at Cinq-Cygne, in the time of the 
 :onspiracy of MM. de Polignac and de Riviere, — then not 
 1 word ! not a gesture ! whatever I may say or he may 
 mswer. Lastly, you must not think of saving any one 
 )ut the MM. de Simeuse and d’Hauteserre; do not try 
 o hamper yourselves with your scapegrace of a game- 
 keeper.’ 
 
 c A hero, Monseigneur! ’ cried Bordin. 
 
 c What! enthusiasm ! and in you , Bordin ? The man 
 nust be something indeed ! — Our sovereign lord, M. le 
 Marquis, is prodigiously vain ; he will dismiss me before 
 ong, to carry out his follies without contradiction. He is 
 1 great soldier that can control the laws of time and space; 
 out he cannot change men’s natures, and he would like to 
 nould them to his uses. Now, do not forget that your 
 relatives’ pardon can only be obtained by one person, and 
 :hat person is Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne.’ 
 
 The Marquis went over to Troyes, alone, and told 
 Laurence how things stood. Laurence obtained permission 
 to see Michu, from the attorney-general. The Marquis 
 went with her as far as the gate of the prison and waited 
 for her outside. When she came out her eyes were full 
 of tears. 
 
 c Poor fellow, he tried to kneel to beg me not to give 
 him another thought, and forgot the irons on his feet,’ she 
 broke out. c Oh ! Marquis, I will plead his cause. Yes, I 
 will kiss their Emperor’s boot. And if I fail, Michu shall 
 live forever in our family ; I will see to that. Present the 
 petition for mercy, to gain time ; I must have his picture. 
 . . . Let us go.’ 
 
 Next day, when the Minister knew by a preconcerted 
 signal that Laurence was at her post, he rang his bell, 
 and the attendant received orders to introduce M. Corentin, 
 
214 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 You are a clever man, my dear fellow, and I wish to 
 employ you,’ said Talleyrand. 
 
 4 My lord-’ 
 
 4 Listen. In Fouche’s service you will make money, 
 but you will never gain honour nor a position; but if you 
 continue to serve me as you did just now at Berlin, you 
 will be respected.’ 
 
 4 You are very good, my lord-’ 
 
 4 You showed genius in that last business, at Gondre¬ 
 ville.’ 
 
 4 Of what do you speak, Monseigneur ?’ asked Corentin, 
 neither over-indifferent nor too much surprised. 
 
 4 Monsieur,’ the Minister returned dryly , 4 you will never 
 be anything; you are afraid-’ 
 
 4 Of what, Monseigneur?’ 
 
 4 Of death ! ’ said the Minister, in those rich, deep, 
 hollow tones of his. 4 Good day, my dear fellow.’ 
 
 4 It is the man,’ said the Marquis de Chargeboeuf, coming 
 into the room, 4 but we have all but killed the Countess : 
 she is speechless with anger.’ 
 
 4 Nobody else could play such a trick,’ said the Minister, 
 — 4 There is a chance, my lord Marquis,’ continued he. 
 4 that your plans may miscarry. Set out as if you intenc 
 to go by way of Strasbourg. I will have your passports 
 made out in duplicate, and in the second, the route shall 
 be left blank. Have doubles, change your direction 
 adroitly, and, more important still, change your travelling 
 carriage; leave your doubles to be stopped at Strasbourg 
 in your stead, and travel by way of Switzerland and Bavaria 
 to Prussia. Not a word to any one, and be careful. You 
 have to do with the police; you do not know what the 
 police is! ’ 
 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne offered Robert Lefebvre 
 a sum sufficient to induce him to come to Troyes to pain! 
 Michu’s portrait; and M. de Granville undertook to give 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 21 5 
 
 he famous painter of the day all possible facilities. M. 
 le Chargebceuf set out in the old berlingot with Laurence 
 md a man-servant who could speak German. But Made- 
 noiselle Goujet and Gothard had started ahead of them in 
 m excellent caleche, and near Nancy the two parties met, 
 md exchanged carriages. At Strasbourg, accordingly, the 
 :ommissary of police refused his visa to the travellers’ 
 passport, pleading strict orders. And at that very mo¬ 
 ment, Laurence and the Marquis left France behind, show- 
 ng their passports at Besan^on. 
 
 Laurence crossed Switzerland in early October, without 
 raying the slightest heed to the wonderful scenery through 
 A^hich she travelled. She lay back in the carriage in the 
 ;orpor that creeps over the condemned man, when he 
 cnows that the hour is come. In such hours, all the world 
 s shut out by an eddying mist, and every commonplace 
 Ling wears a strange, unfamiliar aspect. The thought, 
 If I fail, they will die by their own hands in prison,’ beat 
 n upon her brain, as the blow of the headsman’s club falls 
 )n the limbs of the victim broken on the wheel. She felt 
 nore and more exhausted; she lost all her energy in the 
 juspense as the cruel, swift, decisive moment drew nearer, 
 vhen she should be face to face with the man on whom 
 ;he four lives depended. She had made up her mind to 
 *ive way to languor in the interval, so as to save all her 
 ;trength. These calculations of a strong nature manifest 
 :hemselves in different ways. Some loftier souls find relief 
 n unexpected gayety during the supreme hour of sus- 
 Dense. The Marquis could not understand Laurence’s 
 nood. Sometimes he feared that he might not bring her 
 ilive to an audience, solemn only for the suppliants, yet 
 ;urely it assumed proportions beyond those of ordinary 
 private life. For Laurence, the thought that she must 
 lumble herself to the man whom she scorned and hated, 
 neant the death of all generous sentiments within her. 
 
 4 The Laurence that lives on afterwards will be a dif- 
 
2 i 6 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 ferent creature from this Laurence that is about to die,’ 
 she thought. 
 
 Still, it was very difficult for the travellers to shut their 
 eyes to the great general movement which they felt so 
 soon as they crossed the Prussian frontier. The Jena 
 campaign had begun. Laurence and the Marquis saw the 
 magnificent divisions of the French army passed in review, 
 and deploying here as at the Tuileries. Seen through the 
 pomp and splendour of war, — a splendour that can only 
 be described in biblical language, — the man whose spirit 
 moved those masses of men loomed like a giant in Lau¬ 
 rence’s imagination. Before long the word victory rang 
 in her ears. The Imperial troops had gained two signal 
 advantages. Prince Frederick Louis of Prussia had been 
 killed at Saalfeld the day before the travellers reached it 
 in their effort to overtake Napoleon’s lightning speed. 
 
 At last, on the 13th of October, that day of evil augury, 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne’s travelling carriage overtook 
 the main body of the army, and drove along by a river 
 through the middle of the camp. She saw nothing but 
 confusion. They were sent from village to village, from 
 division to division, until she grew alarmed to think that 
 she and the old man with her were drifting hither and 
 thither alone in an ocean of a hundred and fifty thousand 
 men, facing a hundred and fifty thousand of the enemy. 
 Tired of seeing the line of river over the hedge-row by the 
 muddy road along the slope, which they were following,: 
 she asked the soldier what it was called. 
 
 c The Saale,’ he answered, and he pointed out the great 
 masses of the Prussian army on the other side. 
 
 Night came on. Laurence saw the watch-fires lighted, 
 and the glitter of steel. The old Marquis with chivalrous! 
 courage mounted the box-seat beside the new servant, and 
 himself drove the two strong horses purchased the day be¬ 
 fore. He knew that he should find neither horses nor pos¬ 
 tilions on a field of battle. The army wondered at the 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 217 
 
 mdacious carriage, till a field gendarme brought it to a 
 tand, and rode down upon the Marquis shouting : — 
 
 c Who are you ? Where are you going ? Whom do you 
 vant ?’ 
 
 ‘The Emperor/ replied the Marquis de Chargeboeuf. 
 I have an important despatch from the cabinet for Grand 
 Marshal Duroc.’ 
 
 c Very well. You cannot stop here/ said the man. But 
 vdademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne and the Marquis were 
 obliged to stop, and so much the more so because it was 
 growing dark. 
 
 ‘ Where are we ? ’ Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne asked 
 >f two officers who came past, their uniforms hidden by 
 >lain greatcoats. 
 
 ‘You are in advance of the French advanced guard, 
 Madame/ returned one of the officers. ‘You cannot stay 
 lere, for if the enemy moves our batteries will begin to 
 >lay; you will be between two fires.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh ! ’ she said indifferently. 
 
 At the sound of that c oh ! ’ the other officer spoke. 
 
 ‘ How comes this woman to be here ? ’ 
 
 I 1 l We are waiting for a gendarme/ said Laurence; ‘he 
 las gone to announce our arrival to M. Duroc, who will 
 ise his influence to obtain an interview with the Emperor 
 or us.’ 
 
 ‘ An interview with the Emperor! ’ . . . exclaimed 
 he first officer. ‘ Can you think of it on the eve of a de- 
 :isive engagement ? ’ 
 
 ‘Ah! you are right/ she said. ‘I should wait till the 
 lay after to-morrow. Victory will soften him.’ 
 
 The two officers moved away twenty paces toward the 
 lorses that were standing quietly, waiting for them to 
 nount; and the caleche was forthwith surrounded by an 
 xtremely brilliant array of marshals and officers, who 
 espected the carriage precisely because it was standing 
 
 here. 
 
 L 
 
2 18 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 c Great heavens !’ exclaimed the Marquis, c I am afraid 
 that we were speaking to the Emperor/ 
 
 <• The Emperor ? ’ repeated a colonel-general, c why, there 
 he is ! 9 
 
 Then Laurence saw him a few paces away, alone and in 
 front of the others. The officer who exclaimed, c How 
 comes this woman to be here,’ was the Emperor himself, in 
 a green uniform covered by his famous greatcoat. He had 
 mounted a richly caparisoned white horse, and now with a 
 field-glass in his hand he was intently studying the Prussian 
 army beyond the Saale. Laurence knew why the caleche 
 was allowed to remain and why the Emperor’s escort re¬ 
 spected it. A sudden revulsion passed through her. The 
 hour had come. But at that moment she heard the dull 
 heavy sound of a moving battery and the tramp of masses 
 of men advancing in quick time, and the guns were put in 
 position on the plateau. The batteries seemed to have a 
 language of their own; the caissons vibrated ; the metal 
 gleamed. 
 
 <• Marshal Lannes and his whole corps to the front! 
 Marshal Lefebvre and the Guard to occupy the summit! ’ 
 said the other officer— Major General Berthier. 
 
 The Emperor dismounted. At the first sign, his favour¬ 
 ite mameluke Roustan ran forward to hold the horse. 
 Laurence was stupid with astonishment. She could not 
 believe that all this could happen so simply. 
 
 4 1 shall spend the night here on the plateau,’ said the 
 Emperor. 
 
 As he spoke, Grand Marshal Duroc, whom the gendarme 
 at last had managed to find, came up to the Marquis de 
 Chargebceuf and asked the reason of his arrival. The 
 Marquis replied that a letter from the Minister of Foreign 
 Relations would explain how urgently necessary it was that 
 he and Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne should obtain an 
 audience of the Emperor. 
 
 <> His Majesty is about to dine in his bivouac, no doubt,’ 
 
A Political Trial 219 
 
 said Duroc, as he took the letter. c I will see what it is all 
 about and let you know if it can be done. -— Corporal! go 
 with this carriage and lead the way to the hut in the rear/ 
 M. de Chargeboeuf followed the field gendarme and 
 came to a stand before a miserable hut built of earth and 
 wood. A few fruit-trees grew about the place, which was 
 guarded by pickets of horse and foot. 
 
 Seen from the top of the hill the majesty of war might 
 be said to shine out in all its grandeur, for the lines of both 
 armies lay out below in the moonlight. An hour went by, 
 amid continual coming and going of aides-de-camp, till 
 Duroc came himself and made Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne 
 and the Marquis enter the hut. The floor was of trampled 
 earth like a barn floor. Dinner had just been removed 
 from the table, at which Napoleon was sitting on a rough 
 chair by a smoky fire of green wood. It was plain from 
 his muddy boots that he had been riding about across 
 country. He had taken off* his famous greatcoat, and 
 wore the well-known green uniform with the broad red 
 ribbon, set off* by white kerseymere breeches and a white 
 waistcoat, a costume that set off his pale, stern Caesar’s face 
 to advantage. His hand lay on a map unfolded over his 
 knees. Berthier, in the brilliant costume of a Vice-Con¬ 
 stable of the Empire, stood behind him, and Constant, his 
 body-servant, was handing the Emperor his cup of coffee 
 on a tray. 
 
 c What do you want ? ’ he asked, with affected bluntness; 
 and a glance like a shaft of light seemed to look Laurence 
 through and through. c So you are not afraid now to speak 
 to me before the battle ? . . . What is it about ? ’ 
 
 c Sire,’ she said, looking back as steadily at him, c I am 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne.’ 
 
 ‘ Well ? ’ returned the Emperor sharply, thinking that 
 the glance meant defiance. 
 
 c Do you not understand ? I am the Comtesse de Cinq- 
 Cygne, and I ask for mercy,’ she said, kneeling as she held 
 
220 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 cut the memorial drawn up by Talleyrand, with foot-notes 
 by the Empress, Cambaceres, and Malin. 
 
 The Emperor graciously raised the kneeling girl, saying 
 with a shrewd glance : — 
 
 4 Will you be good now ? Do you understand what the 
 French Empire ought to be ? 9 
 
 4 Ah ! just at this moment I understand nothing but the 
 Emperor/ she said, overcome by the debonair manner in 
 which this controller of fate spoke the words that hinted at 
 pardon. 
 
 4 Are they innocent ? 9 asked the Emperor. 
 
 c All of them/ she cried passionately. 
 
 4 All ? Ah ! no. The gamekeeper is a dangerous character; 
 he might kill my Senator without asking your leave- 9 
 
 4 Sire ! 9 she exclaimed, 4 if you had a friend that had de¬ 
 voted himself to you, would you desert him ? Would not 
 you- 5 
 
 4 You are a woman/ he interrupted, with a trace of banter 
 in his voice. 
 
 4 And you are a man of iron! ’ she cried, with an impas¬ 
 sioned harshness that pleased him. 
 
 4 The man has been condemned after a fair trial/ he 
 continued. 
 
 4 But he is not guilty/ 
 
 4 Child ! . . .’ said the Emperor. He took Mademoi¬ 
 selle de Cinq-Cygne by the hand, and led her out upon the 
 plateau. Then he spoke with that eloquence of his that 
 could turn cowards into brave men. 
 
 4 There ! 9 he said, 4 there are three hundred thousand 
 men, — they, too, are guiltless. Well, and by this time 
 to-morrow, thirty thousand men will have died, and died 
 for their country. Perhaps among the Prussians yonder 
 there is some great mechanician, some man with ideas in 
 his head, some genius, to be mown down to-morrow. And 
 we, too, on our side, shall surely lose great men that will 
 die unrecognised. I myself, perhaps, may see my best 
 
A Political Trial 221 
 
 friend fall. — Shall I cry out against God ? No. I shall 
 be silent. Bear this in mind, Mademoiselle, that a man 
 is as much bound to die for the laws of his country, as to 
 die here for glory,’ he added, leading the way into the 
 hut. —‘Now, go back to France,’ he said, turning to the 
 Marquis, c my orders will follow you thither.’ 
 
 Laurence believed that Michu’s punishment was to be 
 commuted, and, in a great outpouring of gratitude, she knelt 
 and kissed the Emperor’s hand. 
 
 You are M. de Chargeboeuf, are you not ? ’ said the 
 Lmperor, confronting the Marquis. 
 
 ‘Yes, Sire.’ 
 
 ‘ Have you a family ? ’ 
 
 ‘ A large family.’ 
 
 ‘ Why should you not give me one of your grandsons ? 
 rie should be one of my pages. . . 
 
 (‘ Ah ! thought Laurence, ‘ the sub-lieutenant peeps out; 
 he means to be paid for his pardon.’) 
 
 The Marquis bowed for all reply; but luckily General 
 Kapp came hurrying in at that very moment. 
 
 ‘ Sire > the horse-guards and the Grand Duke of Berg’s 
 cavalry cannot come up to-morrow before noon.’ 
 
 ‘ It is of no consequence,’ said Napoleon, addressing 
 berthier; ‘for us, too, there are propitious moments, let us 
 turn them to account.’ 
 
 At a sign of dismissal, Laurence and the Marquis with¬ 
 drew to the carriage. The corporal set them on their way, 
 and escorted them to a village where they passed the night. 
 
 ■ Next day they travelled further and further from the field 
 o attle, to the sound of eight hundred cannon that thun- 
 dered incessantly for ten hours. The tidings of the won¬ 
 derful victory of Jena overtook them by the way. A week 
 later, they reached the suburbs of Troyes. An order from 
 t e lef Justiciary, sent through the attorney-general 
 attached to the Court of First Instance at Troyes, directed 
 that the four gentlemen should be set at liberty on bail, 
 
222 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 pending the decision of his Majesty, Emperor and King; 
 but at the same time, a second order for Michu’s execution 
 was sent down by the head of the staff of counsel for the 
 prosecution. The news had arrived that very morning, a 
 Laurence went forthwith to the prison. It was two o’clock. 
 She had not changed her travelling dress. She gained per¬ 
 mission to stay with Michu through the last sad ceremony 
 called c the toilet.’ The Abbe Goujet, good man, had T 
 asked leave to go with Michu to the scaffold. Absolution 
 had just been given, and Michu was lamenting that he 
 must die without knowing what would become of his mas¬ 
 ters. So when Laurence came in, he gave a cry of joy. 
 
 c I can die now ! ’ said he. 
 
 c They are pardoned ; I do not know the conditions, but 
 they are pardoned,’ returned Laurence. c And I left nothing 
 untried to save you, my friend, in spite of their advice. I , 
 thought I had saved you, but the Emperor deceived me 
 with his royal graciousness.’ 
 
 c It was decreed above that the watch-dog should die on 
 the same spot as his old master and mistress,’ said Michu. 
 
 The last hour went by very quickly. When it was 
 time to leave the prison Michu ventured only to raise 
 Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne’s hand to his lips ; but she 
 held up her face for the noble victim’s solemn kiss. 
 
 Michu refused to ride in the cart. 
 
 c The innocent ought to go afoot,’ he said. 
 
 Nor would he allow the Abbe Goujet to lend his arm; 
 he walked with dignity and resolution to the scaffold. As 
 he lay on the plank he spoke to the executioner, asking 
 the man to turn back the collar of his coat, which covered 
 his neck. 
 
 ‘ My clothes belong to you,’ he said; c try to keep it 
 clean.’ 
 
 The four gentlemen had scarcely time to see Mademoi¬ 
 selle de Cinq-Cygne. An orderly came from the general 
 in command of the division, bringing sub-lieutenants’ com- 
 
A Political Trial 
 
 223 
 
 missions for them all in the same regiment of cavalry, 
 together with orders to repair at once to the depot at 
 Bayonne. There were heartrending farewells, for all of 
 them had some foreboding of the future, and Laurence 
 went back to her desolate chateau. 
 
 The twin brothers fell together under the Emperor’s 
 eyes at Somosierra, the one defending the other. Their 
 last words were — c Laurence, Cy meurs ! 9 
 
 Both had reached the rank of major. Robert d’Hauteserre 
 fell as a colonel in the attack on the redoubt at Borodino, 
 and his brother took his place. 
 
 After the battle of Dresden Adrien became a brigadier- 
 general ; but he was badly wounded, and came home to 
 Cinq-Cygne to be nursed. And then it was that the 
 Countess, a woman of two and thirty, married Adrien 
 d’Hauteserre to save the last of the four nobles who had 
 once been around her. She had only a blighted heart to 
 give, but he took it, as those who love can take, doubting 
 nothing, when they have not lost faith altogether. 
 
 The Restoration roused no enthusiasm in Laurence. 
 For her the Bourbons came back too late. Yet she had 
 no reason to complain; her husband became a peer of 
 France, with the title of Marquis de Cinq-Cygne, he re¬ 
 ceived the appointment of lieutenant-general in 1816, and 
 was rewarded by the blue ribbon for conspicuous services 
 then rendered to the cause. 
 
 Laurence brought up Michu’s son as if he had been 
 her own child. He was called to the bar in 1827; and 
 after two years’ practice, was nominated assistant judge 
 in the tribunal at Alen^on, and subsequently became 
 attorney for the crown at the Arcis tribunal. Laurence 
 had invested Michu’s capital. She handed over rentes 
 bringing in an income of twelve thousand livres to the 
 young man when he came of age \ and afterwards arranged 
 
224 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 a marriage between him and a rich heiress — Mademoiselle 
 Girel of Troyes. 
 
 In 1829, the Marquis de Cinq-Cygne died in Lau¬ 
 rence’s arms; his father, and mother, and children, who 
 idolised him, were about him at the last. At the time 
 of his death, no one had succeeded in penetrating the 
 secret. How the Senator was kidnapped remained a 
 mystery. Louis XVIII by no means refused to make 
 reparation for the injury done by the affair, but on the 
 subject of its causes he was dumb; and thenceforth the 
 Marquise de Cinq-Cygne was persuaded that the King was 
 implicated in the catastrophe. 
 
I 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 The late Marquis de Cinq-Cygne had invested his own 
 savings and those of his father and mother in the pur¬ 
 chase of a splendid mansion in the Rue du Faubourg 
 du Roule. The house formed a part of a considerable 
 estate entailed for the maintenance of the title. This 
 explained the economy practised by the Marquis and his 
 relatives till it became a sordid parsimony which often 
 grieved Laurence. So after the purchase was completed, 
 the Marquise ceased to live entirely on her estates (where 
 she hoarded money for her children), and spent the win¬ 
 ters in town the more willingly because her daughter 
 Berthe and her son Paul had reached an age when their 
 education required the resources of Paris. Madame de 
 Cinq-Cygne went very little into society. Her husband 
 could not fail to know that she always carried regrets in 
 her heart; but for her he showed the most ingenious 
 delicacy, and died, having loved but the one woman in 
 the world. To that noble, so long slighted heart, the 
 generous daughter of the Cinq-Cygnes returned as much 
 love as she received during the last years of their life 
 together; and Adrien was completely happy after all. 
 
 Laurence lives now for the joys of family life. No 
 woman in Paris is more loved and respected by her friends. 
 To visit at her house is an honour. Gentle, indulgent, 
 intelligent, and what is more, simple, she charms all finer 
 and rarer natures, and attracts them to herself, in spite of 
 the trace of sadness in her manner. Each of her friends 
 seems to himself to protect a woman so really strong; 
 and perhaps in that secret attitude of protector lies the 
 P 225 
 
226 
 
 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 charm of her friendships. The evening of Laurence’s life 
 is fair and serene after her sad and troubled youth. People 
 know what she has passed through. Nobody has ever 
 asked a question about a portrait, painted by Robert Le- 
 febvre, on her drawing-room wall, its principal sad orna¬ 
 ment since the keeper’s death on the scaffold. Laurence’s 
 face wears the look of a hardly attained maturity, as of fruit 
 ripened in spite of difficulties. Something like religious 
 courage crowns the brows that have emerged from many 
 trials. 
 
 The Marquise de Cinq-Cygne’s fortune, increased by the 
 law of indemnity, amounts to two hundred thousand livres, 
 a year, without taking her husband’s income into account. 
 She had inherited the eleven hundred thousand francs left 
 by the Simeuses. Thenceforward she spent a hundred 
 thousand francs per annum, and saved the rest for Berthe’s 
 
 Berthe is the living portrait of her mother, with none of 
 her daring spirit; she is her mother over again, grown 
 dainty, sprightly, 4 more feminine,’ as Laurence says with a 
 sigh. The Marquise would not hear of a marriage for her 
 daughter till Berthe was twenty years old. The savings of 
 the family had been judiciously invested by old d’Haute- 
 serre when the funds suddenly fell in 1830, so that by the 
 time Berthe was twenty years old, in 1833, her portion 
 amounted to eighty thousand francs a year. 
 
 About that time the Princesse de Cadignan, wishing to 
 marry her son, the Due de Maufrigneuse, had gained an 
 intimate footing for him in the Marquise de Cinq-Cygne’s 
 house. For some months past Georges de Maufrigneuse 
 had dined three times a week at the Hotel Cinq-Cygne. 
 He escorted the mother and daughter to the Italiens, he 
 caracoled about their carriage in the Bois. It was plain tc 
 the Faubourg Saint Germain that Georges was in love with 
 Berthe, but no one could find out whether Madame de 
 Cinq-Cygne wished her daughter to be a duchess until such 
 
Conclusion 
 
 227 
 
 5 time as she should be a princess, or whether it was the 
 Princess who would fain secure so fine a fortune for her 
 son. Was the celebrated Diane making advances to the 
 country noblesse ? Or were the provincial noblesse dis¬ 
 mayed by Madame de Cadignan’s celebrity, or frightened 
 by her tastes and ruinous life ? 
 
 The Princess had grown devout. In her anxiety to do 
 nothing to injure her son’s prospects, she immured herself 
 in private life, and spent the summer in a villa at Geneva. 
 
 One evening, the Marquise d’Espard and de Marsay, 
 president of the council, were both at the Princesse de 
 Cadignan’s. She saw her old lover that night for the last 
 time, for he died during the following year. Others were 
 I there besides. Rastignac, under secretary of state to de 
 ! Marsay, a couple of ambassadors, one or two celebrated 
 orators still left in the House of Peers, the old Dues de 
 Lenoncourt and de Navarreins, the Comte de Vandenesse 
 and his young wife, and d’Arthez formed a strangely 
 assorted circle, though it would be easy enough to account 
 pfor their presence. It was a question of obtaining a pass 
 ( for the Prince de Cadignan, from the Prime Minister, and 
 de Marsay, unwilling to take the responsibility of granting 
 the permit, had come to tell the Princess that the matter 
 was in good hands. An old political hand was to bring a 
 solution of the difficulty in the course of the evening. 
 
 The Marquise and Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne were 
 announced. Laurence, who never wavered in her prin¬ 
 ciples, was not so much surprised as shocked to find the 
 foremost representatives of the Legitimist cause in either 
 house talking and laughing with the prime minister of a 
 sovereign whom she always spoke of as c Monseigneur le 
 ' Due d’Orleans.’ De Marsay, like a failing lamp, shone 
 j brilliantly at the last; he was glad to forget political 
 anxieties for a little while. The Marquise de Cinq-Cygne, 
 however, tolerated de Marsay very much as the Austrian 
 
228 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 court had just accepted M. de Saint-Aulaire— the man 
 of the world made the minister passable; but when M. 
 le Comte de Gondreville was announced she rose as though 
 her chair had been heated red-hot. 
 
 c Good-bye, Madame,’ she said stiffly, addressing the 
 Princess; and went, taking Berthe with her, picking her 
 way across the room so as to avoid any encounter with a 
 man so fatal to her. 
 
 c You have perhaps broken off Georges’ marriage,’ the 
 Princess murmured for de Marsay’s benefit. 
 
 Malin, the lawyer’s clerk from Arcis, the Representative 
 of the People. The Thermidorean, the tribune, the state 
 councillor, count and senator under the Emperor, the 
 peer of France by a grant of Louis XVIII, and one of 
 the new peers of July, now made an obsequious bow to 
 the Princesse de Cadignan. 
 
 c You need tremble no longer, fair lady, lest we wage 
 war against princes,’ said he, taking a seat beside her. 
 
 Malin had enjoyed the esteem of Louis XVIII, for his 
 long experience had been useful to that monarch. He 
 had contributed not a little to Decaze’s overthrow, and 
 Villele had received the full benefit of his counsels. As 
 Charles X gave him a cool reception, however, he had 
 thought fit to adopt Talleyrand’s grudge. He was now 
 in high favour with the twelfth government under which 
 he had served and would probably one day dis-serve. 
 His friendship with one of our most famous diplomatists — 
 a friendship of thirty-six years’ standing — had come to an 
 end during the past fifteen months. It was during the 
 course of this evening that he made an epigram at the 
 expense of the great politician. 
 
 <■ Do you know why he is hostile to the Due de Bor¬ 
 deaux ? . . . The claimant is too young-’ 
 
 <• You are giving singular counsel to young men,’ re¬ 
 marked Rastignac. 
 
 De Marsay had grown very thoughtful since the Prin- 
 
Conclusion 229 
 
 cess spoke. He took no part in the lively conversation, 
 but sat quietly watching Gondreville. The old man 
 always went to bed early, and de Marsay was evidently 
 waiting for him to go. The rest of the party followed 
 de Marsay’s example; they had seen Madame de Cinq- 
 Cygne leave the room and knew her reasons for so doing. 
 Gondreville had not noticed the Marquise, nor did he 
 understand the cause of the general reserve; but business 
 and political life had taught him tact, and he was, besides, 
 quick-witted. Thinking that he was in the way, the old 
 man of seventy took his leave and walked slowly to the door. 
 
 De Marsay, standing by the hearth, watched him go with 
 an expression that suggested grave thoughts. 
 
 c I did wrong, Madame, when I omitted to give you the 
 name of any negotiator,’ the Prime Minister said at last 
 when the carriage had rolled away. c But I will redeem 
 my fault, and put it in your power to make your peace 
 with the Cinq-Cygnes. These things happened more than 
 thirty years ago. It is as old a story as the death of Henri 
 Quatre; though in truth between ourselves, and in spite of 
 the proverb, that story (like a good many more tragedies 
 in history) is known to scarcely any one. I vow and de¬ 
 clare, at any rate, that even if this affair did not concern 
 the Marquise, it would be none the less interesting; for as 
 a matter of fact it throws a light on a famous passage in 
 our modern annals, — the passage of the Mont Saint 
 Bernard. MM. les Ambassadeurs will see that in the 
 matter of depth our latter-day politicians are very far 
 removed from the Machiavellis who were raised on high 
 above the region of storms by the popular upheaval of 1793 * 
 Some of these have latterly “ found a port,” as novelists 
 say. You must have been tossed through the hurricanes 
 of those times if you would be anything in France to-day. 
 
 <• But it seems to me,’ smiled the Princess, c that in that 
 respect your state of things at present leaves nothing to 
 be desired-’ 
 
230 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 A little burst of polite laughter followed this speech; de 
 Marsay could not help smiling. The ambassadors seemed 
 to be listening eagerly. A sudden fit of coughing seized 
 de Marsay, and the rest were silent. 
 
 c One night in June, 1800,’ the Prime Minister began, 
 c just as the light of the candles grew faint in the dawn, 
 two men in the salon of the Hotel of the Minister of 
 Foreign Affairs, grew tired of bouillotte (perhaps they had 
 only been playing to amuse others), and withdrew to a 
 boudoir. The Hotel used to be in the Rue du Bac in those 
 days. As for those two men (one of them is dead now, 
 and the other has one foot in the grave), each was in his 
 way as extraordinary as the other. Both had taken holy 
 orders, and subsequently both married. One had been a 
 simple Oratorian, the other had worn a mitre. The name 
 of the first was Fouche, I do not tell you who the second 
 was; but at that time they were both simple French citi¬ 
 zens, and neither of them particularly simple. 
 
 c The rest of the party left in the salon saw them go, 
 and looked up somewhat curiously. A third man followed. 
 This personage thought himself much cleverer than the 
 first pair; his name was Sieyes; and as you all know, be¬ 
 fore the Revolution he too belonged to the Church. The 
 lame man was at that time Minister of Foreign Relations. 
 Fouche was Minister of General Police; Sieyes had been 
 consul and had abdicated. 
 
 c A phlegmatic, stern little man next left his place, re¬ 
 marking aloud (so I was told by some one who heard him) 
 — u I have my fears of a triplet of priests/’ This was the 
 Minister of War. Carnot’s remark apparently caused no 
 anxiety to the two consuls over their game at cards in the 
 salon. Cambaceres and Lebrun were at the mercy of 
 their ministers, and their ministers were infinitely cleverer 
 men than they. The statesmen of that time are now 
 nearly all of them dead, there is no occasion to spare them; 
 they belong to the province of history, and the history made 
 
Conclusion 231 
 
 :hat night was terrible. I tell you this, because I alone 
 know about it; for Louis XVIII told poor Madame de 
 iCinq-Cygne nothing, and the present Government has no 
 interest in discovering the truth. 
 
 4 The four politicians sat down. Before they had had 
 time to say a word, the lame man shut the door. Some 
 say he drew the bolt (there is no one like a well-bred man 
 for thinking of these little things). The three priests’ hag¬ 
 gard, impassive faces looked as you have always seen 
 them. Carnot’s was the only high-coloured countenance 
 among them. The soldier was the first to speak. 
 
 4 44 What is in question ? ” 
 
 <• “ France,” the Prince might have said. (I admire the 
 Prince as one of the most extraordinary men of our time.) 
 
 cu The Republic,” Fouche certainly would have said. 
 
 4 “ Power,” was probably Sieyes’ reply.’ 
 
 De Marsay’s rendering of the three speakers was so 
 admirably perfect in tones, expressions, and gestures, that 
 his audience exchanged glances. 
 
 4 The three priests understood one another uncommonly 
 well,’ he continued. 4 Carnot probably looked at his col¬ 
 leagues and the ex-consul with dignity enough ; but I think 
 he must have felt nonplussed in his own mind. 
 
 4 cc Do you believe in a success ? ” Sieyes asked him. 
 
 4 “ Anything may be expected of Bonaparte,” returned 
 the Minister of War. 44 He crossed the Alps safely.” 
 
 4 44 At the present moment,” remarked the diplomatist, 
 with measured slowness, 44 he is staking his all.” 
 
 4 44 In short, let us speak out,” said Fouche. 44 What 
 are we going to do, if the First Consul is beaten ? Is it 
 possible to reconstitute an army ? Are we to remain his 
 humble servants ? ” , 
 
 4 44 There is no Republic, now,” suggested Sieyes; 44 he 
 is Consul for ten years.” 
 
 4 44 He has more power than Cromwell had, and he did 
 not vote for the King’s death,” added the Bishop. 
 
2 J 2 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 cu We have a master,” said Fouche. 44 Shall we keep 
 him in power if he loses the battle ? Or shall we return to 
 a purely Republican government ? ” 
 
 4 44 France can only hold out if she recovers the energy 
 of the time of the Convention,” Carnot remarked sen- 
 tentiously. 
 
 4 “ I am of Carnot’s opinion,” said Sieyes. 44 If Bona¬ 
 parte is defeated, and comes back, there must be an end of 
 him. He has had too much to say these seven months 
 past.” 
 
 4 u He has the army,” Carnot said thoughtfully. 
 
 4 u We shall have the people ! ” cried Fouche. 
 
 4 44 You are prompt, sir!” remarked the grand seigneur , 
 and at the sound of that deep, resonant voice the Oratorian 
 shrank into himself. 
 
 4 44 Let us speak out,” said a fifth person, a member of 
 the old Convention, who now showed his face. 44 Let us 
 speak out. If Bonaparte wins the day, we will bow before 
 him. If he loses, we will bury him.” 
 
 444 You were here, Malin,” said the master of the house 
 quite imperturbably; 44 you will be one of us.” And he 
 beckoned the new-comer to a seat. It was owing to this 
 circumstance that a sufficiently obscure member of the 
 Convention became what he is even at this moment, as 
 we have just seen. Malin was discreet, and the two min¬ 
 isters stood by him; but he was both the pivot of the 
 machinery and the soul of their machinations. 
 
 4 44 The man is not by any means defeated yet! ” Carnot 
 exclaimed in a tone of conviction, 44 and he has just out¬ 
 done Hannibal.” 
 
 4 44 In case of misfortune, here is the Directory,” Sieyes 
 returned, very acutely pointing out as he spoke that they 
 were five in number. 
 
 4 44 And it is to the interest of each one of us to maintain 
 the French Republic,” added the Minister of Foreign Rela¬ 
 tions ; 44 three of us have thrown the cassock to the dogs, 
 
Conclusion 233 
 
 and the General voted for the King’s death. As for you ” 
 (turning to Malin), 44 you own emigres' estates.” 
 
 4 44 Our interests are all the same,” Sieyes affirmed peremp¬ 
 torily, 44 and our interests are also the interests of the country.” 
 
 4 44 A rare coincidence,” smiled the diplomatist. 
 
 I 4 44 Action is imperative,” added Fouche. 44 The battle is 
 being fought and Melas’s forces are superior. Genoa has 
 | surrendered, and Massena has blundered into embarking for 
 Antibes. So it is not certain that he can effect a junction, and 
 Bonaparte in that case will be thrown on his own resources.” 
 I 4 44 Who told you the news ? ” asked Carnot. 
 
 4 44 It is sure news,” returned Fouche. 44 You shall have 
 the despatches in time for the Bourse.” 
 
 De Marsay stopped for a moment. 4 They did not mince 
 matters among themselves,’ he remarked smiling. 
 
 4 44 Now, when the news of the disaster comes,” Fouche 
 went on, 44 it will be no time for organising the clubs, ap¬ 
 pealing to patriotism, and making changes in the Constitu¬ 
 tion. Our 18th of Brumaire ought to be ready by then.” 
 
 4 44 Let us leave the Minister of Police to do it,” suggested 
 the diplomatist, 44 and we must beware of Lucien.” (Lucien 
 Bonaparte was at that time Minister of the Interior.) 
 
 4 44 1 can hold him in,” said Fouche. 
 
 4 44 Gentlemen ! ” exclaimed Sieyes, 44 our Directory shall 
 not be at the mercy of anarchy and change. We will 
 organise an oligarchy, a senate composed of life members, 
 an elective assembly in our control. For we must profit 
 by the mistakes of the past.” 
 
 4 44 With that system I shall have a quiet life,” said the 
 Bishop. 
 
 4 44 Find a man that we can trust with the correspondence 
 with Moreau ; for the Army of Germany will be our one 
 
 [ resource ! ” cried Carnot, deep in thought. 
 
 De Marsay paused. 4 In truth, these men were right, 
 gentlemen ! ’ he said. 4 They behaved like great men in the 
 crisis; and I should have done as they did. 
 
234 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 4 44 Gentlemen ! ” . . . exclaimed Sieyes in stern, sol¬ 
 emn tones. 
 
 4 Every one present understood perfectly well what was 
 meant by that word 44 gentlemen.” The same promise, the 
 same loyalty, could be read in all their faces; a promise of 
 absolute silence and complete solidarity in case Bonaparte 
 should return in triumph. 
 
 444 We all of us know what we have to do,” added Fouche. 
 
 4 44 Sieyes meanwhile had slipped the bolt noiselessly back. 
 His priest’s ear had served him well. Lucien came in. 
 
 4 44 Good news, gentlemen ! A courier has brought Ma¬ 
 dame Bonaparte a few words from the First Consul. He 
 has made a beginning with a victory at Montebello.” 
 
 4 The three ministers looked in each other’s faces. 
 
 4 44 Was it a general engagement ? ” asked Carnot. 
 
 4 44 No, a battle. Lannes covered himself with glory. It 
 was a bloody encounter. Lannes with ten thousand men 
 was attacked by eighteen thousand, and saved by a division 
 that came up to his support. Ott is in full flight. In fact, 
 Melas’s line of operations has been cut.” 
 
 4 44 When did this take place ? ” asked Carnot. 
 
 4 44 On the 8th,” Lucien replied. 
 
 4 44 And this is the 13th,” returned the sagacious Minister. 
 44 Well, to all appearance the fate of France is staked on 
 the fortune of war at this moment.” (And as a matter of 
 fact the battle of Marengo began at daybreak on the 14th 
 of June.) 
 
 4 44 Four days of mortal suspense ! ” said Lucien. 
 
 4 44 Mortal ? ” the Minister of Foreign Relations repeated 
 coolly with a questioning look. 
 
 4 44 Four days,” said Fouche. 
 
 4 An eye-witness assured me that the two consuls only 
 heard the news when the six men returned to the salon. It 
 was then four o’clock in the morning. 
 
 4 Fouche was the first to go. His was a profound and 
 extraordinary genius, working in the shadow, and little 
 
Conclusion 
 
 2 35 
 
 known; yet he was an equal surely of a Philip II, a Tibe¬ 
 rius, or a Borgia. He behaved after the Walcheren affair 
 like a consummate tactician, a great statesman, and a far¬ 
 sighted administrator. He was the one minister that 
 Napoleon had; and you know that he alarmed Napoleon at 
 the time of which I speak. Fouche, Massena, and the 
 Prince are the three greatest men, the three wisest heads, 
 that I know in diplomacy, war, and government. If Napo¬ 
 leon had frankly associated them with his work there would 
 be no Europe now but a vast French empire instead. 
 Fouche only became estranged from Napoleon when he saw 
 Sieyes and the Prince de Talleyrand set aside. 
 
 c This was what he did, working beneath the surface with 
 infernal activity. In the space of three days, without show¬ 
 ing his hand, he stirred up the ashes and organised that gen¬ 
 eral agitation which hung over the whole of France and 
 revived the Republican energy of 1793. 
 
 c As some light must be thrown on this dark corner of 
 our story, I must tell you that all the. Republican plots 
 against the life of the victor of Marengo may be traced to 
 this agitation. It was the work of a man who held all the 
 threads of the dispersed party of the Mountain. The con¬ 
 sciousness of the harm that he had done gave Fouche firm¬ 
 ness sufficient to point out to Bonaparte that, contrary to 
 the opinion of the latter, there were more Republicans than 
 Royalists mixed up in these plots. 
 
 c Fouche understood men to admiration. He counted 
 upon Sieyes because Sieyes’s ambition had been dis¬ 
 appointed; upon Talleyrand because the prince was a 
 grand seigneur; upon Carnot, because he knew Carnot’s 
 profound honesty; but he had his fears of our man of 
 to-night, and this was how he set about committing him. 
 Malin was only Malin in those days, and Malin was in 
 correspondence with Louis XVIII. The Minister of 
 Police accordingly set Malin to draft the proclamations 
 of the Revolutionary government, with its enactments and 
 
236 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 decrees. Factious persons who took part in the 18th of 
 Brumaire were declared outlaws. And more, far more 
 than this, the unwilling accomplice was obliged to have the 
 necessary quantity of placards printed, and to store them 
 in packages in his own house. The printer was arrested 
 as a conspirator (for a Revolutionary printer had been pur¬ 
 posely chosen), and the police kept him for a couple of 
 months before they set him at liberty. The man died in 
 1816 in the firm belief that there had been a conspiracy 
 set afoot by the Mountain. 
 
 c One of the most curious pieces of acting on the part of 
 Fouche’s police was, beyond question, the scene after the 
 arrival of the first courier with the news of the loss of the 
 battle of Marengo. The first banker of the day had an 
 agent at the seat of war. The battle went against Napo¬ 
 leon, as you may remember, until about seven o’clock in 
 the evening. At noon the banker’s agent considered that 
 the French army was hopelessly lost, and hastened to de¬ 
 spatch a courier. The Minister of Police had sent for bill¬ 
 posters and criers; and a trusty adherent had arrived with 
 a waggon-load of the printed bills, when the courier, sent 
 off in the evening, using his utmost diligence, arrived with 
 the news of a victory that sent France fairly frantic with 
 
 j°y- 
 
 c Heavy sums were lost on the Bourse. But the army of 
 bill-posters and criers were bidden to wait till the placards 
 extolling the victory and the First Consul could be printed, 
 and they published these instead of the proclamation of out¬ 
 lawry and the political death of Bonaparte. 
 
 c Malin knew that the whole responsibility of the 
 plot was sure to fall on his shoulders. He was so 
 frightened that he carted the packages of printed matter 
 down to Gondreville by night, and no doubt he buried the 
 unlucky papers in the cellars of the chateau that he had 
 bought here under the name of another man, — he nomi¬ 
 nated him as president of a Court Imperial, — a man 
 
Conclusion 237 
 
 railed — Marion; that was his name. Then Malin went 
 >ack to Paris in time enough to congratulate the First 
 Consul. 
 
 c Napoleon came hurrying back from Italy after the 
 cattle of Marengo, as you know, with startling haste; and 
 or those who know the secret history of the time, it is 
 certain that a message from Lucien was the cause of his 
 Drompt return. Lucien had an inkling of the attitude of the 
 Mountain party ; he had no idea of the quarter from which 
 :he wind blew, but he was afraid of a storm. He was 
 ncapable of suspecting the three ministers; the cause of 
 the movement, he thought, was the hostile feeling aroused 
 oy his brother on the 18th of Brumaire, together with the 
 firm belief that the check in Italy was irreparable, a belief 
 largely shared at the time by the rest of the men of 1793. 
 The cry, “ Down with the tyrant! ” shouted at St. Cloud 
 was always ringing in Lucien’s ears. 
 
 c The battle of Marengo detained Napoleon in the Lom¬ 
 bard plain till the 25th of June. On the 2d of July he 
 arrived in France. Just try to picture the faces of the five 
 conspirators as they congratulated the First Consul at the 
 Tuileries on his victory ! In that very room Fouche told 
 the tribune (for Malin had a turn as a tribune) to wait a 
 while yet, and that all was not over. As a matter of fact, 
 it seemed to Fouche and to M. de Talleyrand that the 
 First Consul was not quite so much wedded to the Revolu¬ 
 tion as they themselves were; and so, for their greater 
 safety, they buckled him thereunto by the affair of the Due 
 d’Enghien. You can trace the execution of that prince, by 
 visible ramifications, back to the plot woven that night in 
 the Hotel of the Minister of Foreign Relations, at the time 
 of the Marengo campaign. Certainly, at this day, it is 
 plain to any one who has known well-informed persons, that 
 Bonaparte was duped like a child by M. de Talleyrand and 
 Fouche. Ambassadors from the House of Bourbon were 
 making overtures to the First Consul at that time. Talley- 
 
238 A Gondreville Mystery 
 
 rand and Fouche wanted to make a final breach between 
 them.’ 
 
 c Talleyrand was playing a game of whist at Madame de 
 Luynes’s,’ began one of de Marsay’s audience. c At three 
 o’clock in the morning he drew out his watch and inter¬ 
 rupted the game to ask his three companions, quite suddenly 
 and without any preface, “ whether the Prince de Conde 
 had any child beside the Due d’Enghien.” So absurd a 
 question in M. de Talleyrand’s mouth caused the greatest 
 astonishment. — “Why do you ask, when you know so 
 well that he has none?” said they. — “To inform you 
 that the House of Conde has come to an end at this 
 moment.” — M. de Talleyrand had been at the Hotel de 
 Luynes since the evening began ; he knew, no doubt, that 
 it was impossible that Bonaparte should grant a pardon.’ 
 
 c But all this has nothing to do with Madame de Cinq- 
 Cygne, that I can see,’ said Rastignac to de Marsay. 
 
 c Ah! you were so young, my dear fellow, that I for¬ 
 got the conclusion. You know that the Comte de 
 Gondreville was kidnapped. The affair cost the lives of 
 the two Simeuses, and of d’Hauteserre’s elder brother; 
 d’Hauteserre married Mademoiselle de Cinq-Cygne, and 
 became first the Comte and afterwards the Marquis de 
 Cinq-Cygne-’ 
 
 Several persons, however, had not heard the story; and 
 at their request, de Marsay gave the history of the trial, 
 saying that the five mysterious persons were tools sent 
 down by the general police to destroy the very packages 
 of printed matter which the Comte de Gondreville had 
 himself come down to burn, when he believed that the 
 Empire was an assured fact. 
 
 C I suspect,’ said de Marsay, c that Fouche made search 
 at the same time for proofs of the correspondence between 
 Gondreville and Louis XVIII. There had been an under¬ 
 standing between them all along, — even during the Terror. 
 But in this deplorable business there was an animus on 
 
Conclusion 239 
 
 :he part of the principal agent. He is living yet. He is 
 Dne of the great men that can fill subordinate positions; 
 ie has distinguished himself by astonishing feats. They 
 vill not find his like again. It seems that Mademoiselle 
 Ie Cinq-Cygne treated him uncivilly when he went down 
 .0 arrest the Simeuses. So, Madame, you have the secret 
 T the affair. You can explain it to the Marquise de 
 Cinq-Cygne, and assist her to understand why Louis 
 XVIII kept silence about it.’ 
 
 Paris, January , 1841 . 
 
AN EPISODE OF THE TERROR 
 
 To Monsieur Guyonnet-Merville 
 
 Is it not a necessity to explain to a public curious to know 
 everything , how I came to be sufficiently learned in the law to 
 carry on the business of my little world? And in so doing , am 
 I not bound to put on record the memory of the amiable and 
 intelligent man who , meeting Scribe (another clerk-amateuf at 
 a ball , said , c fust give the office a turn; there is work for 
 you there , I assure you ’ ? But do you need this public testimony 
 to feel assured of the affection of the writer ? 
 
 De Balzac. 
 
 On the 22 d of January, 1793, towards eight o’clock in 
 the evening, an old lady came down the steep street that 
 comes to an end opposite the Church of Saint Laurent in 
 the Faubourg Saint Martin. It had sno\^fd so heavily all 
 day long that the lady’s footsteps were-’lstarcely audible; 
 the streets were deserted, and a feelntg of dread, not 
 unnatural amid the silence, was further increased by the 
 whole extent of the Terror beneath which France was 
 groaning in those days; what was more, the old lady so 
 far had met no one by the way. Her sight had long been 
 failing, so that the few foot passengers dispersed like 
 shadows in the distance over the wide thoroughfare through 
 the faubourg, were quite invisible to her by the light of the 
 lanterns. 
 
 She had passed the end of the Rue des Morts, when she 
 fancied that she could hear the firm, heavy tread of a man 
 
An Episode of the Terror 243 
 
 t Forgive me ! ’ she said, with a childlike sweetness in 
 :r tones. Then, drawing a gold louis from her pocket, 
 ie held it out to the pastry-cook. ‘ That is the price 
 r reed upon,’ she added. 
 
 There is a kind of want that is felt instinctively by those 
 ho know want. The man and his wife looked at one 
 lother, then at the elderly woman before them, and read 
 ie same thoughts in each other’s eyes. That bit of gold 
 as so plainly the last. Her hands shook a little as she 
 fid it out, looking at it sadly but ungrudgingly, as one who 
 nows the full extent of the sacrifice. Hunger and penury 
 ad carved lines as easy to read in her face as the traces of 
 sceticism and fear. There were vestiges of by-gone 
 fiendour in her clothes. She was dressed in threadbare 
 lk, a neat but well-worn mantle, and daintily mended 
 ice,— in the rags of former grandeur, in short. The 
 aopkeeper and his wife, drawn two ways by pity and self- 
 lterest, began by lulling their consciences with words. 
 
 ‘You seem very poorly, citoyenne-’ 
 
 ‘Perhaps Madame might like to take something,’ the 
 fife broke in. 
 
 ‘ We have some very nice broth,’ added the pastry-cook. 
 
 ‘And it is so cold,’ continued his wife; ‘perhaps you 
 ave caught a chill, Madame, on your way here. But you 
 an rest and warm yourself a bit.’ 
 
 ‘ We are not so black as the devil! ’ cried the man. 
 
 The kindly intention in the words and tones of the 
 haritable couple won the old lady’s confidence. She said 
 hat a strange man had been following her, and she was 
 fraid to go home alone. 
 
 ‘ Is that all ? ’ returned he of the red bonnet; ‘ wait for 
 ie, citoyenne.’ 
 
 He handed the gold coin to his wife, and then went out 
 0 put on his National Guard’s uniform, impelled, thereto, 
 iy the idea of making some adequate return for the money; 
 n idea that sometimes slips into a tradesman’s head when 
 
244 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 he has been prodigiously overpaid for goods of no grea 
 value. He took up his cap, buckled on his sabre, an 
 came out in full dress. But his wife had had time t) 
 reflect, and reflection, as not unfrequently happens, close* 
 the hand that kindly intentions had opened. Feelin- 
 frightened and uneasy lest her husband might be draw, 
 into something unpleasant, she tried to catch at the skir 
 of his coat, to hold him back, but he, good soul, obeyin. 
 his charitable first thought, brought out his offer to se 
 the lady home, before his wife could stop him. 
 
 c The man of whom the citoyenne is afraid is sti 
 prowling about the shop, it seems,’ she said sharply. 
 c I am afraid so,’ the lady said innocently. 
 c How if it is a spy ? . . . a plot ? . . . Don’t gcj 
 
 And take the box away from her-’ 
 
 The words whispered in the pastry-cook’s ear cooled hi 
 hot fit of courage down to zero. 
 
 c Oh ! I will just go out and say a word or two. I wi¬ 
 nd you of him soon enough,’ he exclaimed, as he bounce 
 out of the shop. 
 
 The old lady meanwhile, passive as a child and almos 
 dazed, sat down on her chair again. But the hones 
 pastry-cook came back directly. A countenance re, 
 enough to begin with, and further flushed by the bake 
 house fire, was suddenly blanched; such terror perturbe 
 him that he reeled as he walked, and stared about hir) 
 like a drunken man. 
 
 c Miserable aristocrat! Do you want to have our head 
 cut off?’ he shouted furiously. c You just take to youi 
 heels and never show yourself here again. Don’t com! 
 to me for materials for your plots.’ 
 
 He tried, as he spoke, to take away the little box whic i 
 she had slipped into one of her pockets. But at the touc 
 of a profane hand on her clothes, the stranger recovere 
 youth and activity for a moment, preferring to face th 
 dangers of the street with no protector save God, to th 
 
An Episode of the Terror 245 
 
 ss of the thing that she had just paid for. She sprang 
 ; the door, flung it open, and disappeared, leaving the 
 .isband and wife dumfounded and quaking with fright. 
 
 > Once outside in the street, she started away at a quick 
 alk; but her strength soon failed her. She heard the 
 >und of the snow crunching under a heavy step, and knew 
 lat the pitiless spy was on her track. She was obliged 
 
 > top. He stopped likewise. From sheer terror, or 
 ick of intelligence, she did not dare to speak or to look 
 t him. She went slowly on; the man slackened his pace 
 nd fell behind so that he could still keep her in sight, 
 le might have been her very shadow. 
 
 Nine o’clock struck as the silent man and woman passed 
 gain by the Church of Saint Laurent. It is in the nature 
 f things that calm must succeed to violent agitation, even 
 a the weakest soul; for if feeling is infinite, our capacity 
 o feel is limited. So, as the stranger lady met with no 
 larm from her supposed persecutor, she tried to look upon 
 ’lim as an unknown friend anxious to protect her. She 
 hought of all the circumstances in which the stranger had 
 appeared, and put them together, as if to find some ground 
 or this comforting theory, and felt inclined to credit him 
 vith good intentions rather than bad. 
 
 Forgetting the fright that he had given the pastry-cook, 
 ;he walked on with a firmer step through the upper end 
 jf the Faubourg Saint Martin; and another half-hour’s 
 aralk brought her to a house at the corner where the road 
 :o the Barriere de Pantin turns off from the main thor¬ 
 oughfare. Even at this day, the place is one of the least 
 frequented parts of Paris. The north wind sweeps over 
 the Buttes-Chaumont and Belleville, and whistles through 
 the houses (the hovels rather), scattered over an almost 
 |i uninhabited low-lying waste, where the fences are heaps 
 ' of earth and bones. It was a desolate-looking place, a 
 fitting refuge for despair and misery. 
 
 The sight of it appeared to make an impression upon 
 
246 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 the relentless pursuer of a poor creature so daring as to 
 walk alone at night through the silent streets. He stood 
 in thought, and seemed by his attitude to hesitate. She 
 could see him dimly now, under the street lamp that sent 
 a faint, flickering light through the fog. Fear gave her 
 eyes. She saw, or thought she saw, something sinister 
 about the stranger’s features. Her old terrors awoke; 
 she took advantage of a kind of hesitation on his part, 
 slipped through the shadows to the door of the solitary 
 house, pressed a spring, and vanished swiftly as a phantom. 
 For awhile the stranger stood motionless, gazing up at 
 the house. It was in some sort a type of the wretched 
 dwellings in the suburb: a tumble-down hovel, built of 
 rough stones, daubed over with a coat of yellowish stucco, 
 and so riven with great cracks that there seemed to be danger 
 lest the slightest puff of wind might blow it down. The 
 roof, covered with brown moss-grown tiles, had given way 
 in several places, and looked as though it might break down 
 altogether under the weight of the snow. The frames of 
 the three windows on each story were rotten with damp 
 and warped by the sun ; evidently the cold must find its 
 way inside. The house standing thus quite by itself looked 
 like some old tower that Time had forgotten to destroy. 
 A faint light shone from the attic windows pierced at 
 irregular distances in the roof; otherwise the whole build¬ 
 ing was in total darkness. 
 
 Meanwhile the old lady climbed not without difficulty 
 up the rough, clumsily built staircase, with a rope by way 
 of a hand-rail. At the door of the lodging in the attic she 
 stopped and tapped mysteriously; an old man brought for¬ 
 ward a chair for her. She dropped into it at once. 
 
 c Hide ! hide ! ’ she exclaimed, looking up at him. c Sel¬ 
 dom as we leave the house, everything that we do is known, 
 
 and every step is watched-’ 
 
 c What is it now ? ’ asked another elderly woman, sitting 
 by the fire. 
 
An Episode of the Terror 247 
 
 ‘The man that has been prowling about the house 
 ;sterday and to-day, followed me to-night 
 | At those words all three dwellers in the wretched den 
 ioked in each other’s faces and did not try to dissimulate 
 le profound dread that they felt. The old priest was 
 le least overcome, probably because he ran the greatest 
 inger. If a brave man is weighed down by great calami- 
 es or the yoke of persecution, he begins, as it were, by 
 laking the sacrifice of himself; and thereafter every day of 
 is life becomes one more victory snatched from fate. But 
 -om the way in which the women looked at him it was 
 asy to see that their intense anxiety was on his account. 
 
 ‘ Why should our faith in God fail us, my sisters ? ’ he 
 aid, in low but fervent tones. ‘We sang His praises 
 hrough the shrieks of murderers and their victims at the 
 Carmelites. If it was His will that I should come alive 
 : ,ut of that butchery, it was, no doubt, because I was 
 eserved for some fate which I am bound to endure without 
 nurmuring. God will protect His own; He can do with 
 hem according to His will. It is for you, not for me that 
 ve must think.’ 
 
 cj^o,’ answered one of the women. ‘What is our life 
 tompared with a priest’s life ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Once outside the Abbaye de Chelles, I look upon my- 
 lelf as dead,’ added the nun who had not left the house, 
 vhile the Sister that had just returned, held out the little 
 }ox to the priest. 
 
 ‘Here are the wafers ... but I can hear some one 
 :oming up the stairs ! ’ 
 
 At this, the three began to listen. The sound ceased. 
 
 ‘ Do not be alarmed if somebody tries to come in,’ said 
 the priest. ‘ Somebody on whom we could depend was to 
 make all necessary arrangements for crossing the frontier. 
 He is to come for the letters that I have written to the 
 Due de Langeais and the Marquis de Beauseant, asking 
 them to find some way of taking you out of this dreadful 
 
248 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 country, and away from the death or the misery that waits 
 for you here.’ 
 
 ‘ But are y° u not going to follow us ? ’ the nuns criec 
 under their breath, almost despairingly. 
 
 ‘ M y P ost is here where the sufferers are,’ the priest said 
 simply, and the women said no more, but looked at theii 
 guest in reverent admiration. He turned to the nun with 
 the wafers. 
 
 c Sister Marthe,’ he said, 4 the messenger will say Fiat 
 Viluntas in answer to the word Hosanna .’ 
 
 4 There is some one on the stairs! ’ cried the other nun, 
 opening a hiding-place contrived in the roof. 
 
 This time it was easy to hear, amid the deepest silence, a 
 sound echoing up the staircase: it was a man’s tread on 
 the steps covered with dried lumps of mud. With some 
 difficulty the priest slipped into a kind of cupboard, and the 
 nun flung some clothes over him. 
 
 4 You can shut the door, Sister Agathe,’ he said in a 
 muffled voice. 
 
 He was scarcely hidden before three raps sounded on 
 the door. The holy women looked into each other’s eyes 
 for counsel, and dared not say a single word. 
 
 They seemed both to be about sixty years of age. They 
 had lived out of the world for forty years, and had grown 
 so accustomed to the life of the convent that they could 
 scarcely imagine any other. To them, as to plants kept in 
 a hot-house, a change of air meant death. And so, when 
 the grating was broken down one morning, they knew with 
 a shudder that they were free. The effect produced by 
 the Revolution upon their simple souls is easy to imagine; 
 it produced a temporary imbecility not natural to them. 
 They could not bring the ideas learned in the convent into 
 harmony with life and its difficulties; they could not even 
 understand their own position. They were like children 
 whom others have always cared for, deserted by their 
 maternal providence. And as a child cries, they betook 
 
An Episode of the Terror 249 
 
 hemselves to prayer. Now, in the presence of imminent 
 langer, they were mute and passive, knowing no defence 
 ave Christian resignation. 
 
 The man at the door, taking silence for consent, pre- 
 iented himself, and the women shuddered. This was the 
 irowler that had been making inquiries about them for 
 !ome time past. But they looked at him with frightened 
 :uriosity, much as shy children stare silently at a stranger; 
 and neither of them moved. . 
 
 The new-comer was a tall, burly man. Nothing in his 
 behaviour, bearing, or expression suggested malignity as, fol¬ 
 lowing the example set by the nuns, he stood motionless, 
 while his eyes travelled round the room. 
 
 Two straw mats laid upon planks did duty as beds. On 
 the one table, placed in the middle of the room, stood a 
 brass candlestick, several plates, three knives, and a round 
 loaf. A small fire burned in the grate. A few bits of 
 wood in a heap in a corner bore further witness to the 
 poverty of the recluses. You had only to look at the 
 coating of paint on the walls to discover the bad condition 
 of the roof, and the ceiling was a perfect network of brown 
 stains made by rain-water. A relic, saved no doubt from 
 the wreck of the Abbaye de Chelles, stood like an ornament 
 on the chimney-piece. Three chairs, two boxes, and a 
 rickety chest of drawers completed the list of the furniture, 
 but a door beside the fireplace suggested an inner room 
 beyond. 
 
 The brief inventory was soon made by the personage intro¬ 
 duced into their midst under such terrible auspices. It was 
 with a compassionate expression that he turned to the two 
 women; he looked benevolently at them, and seemed, at 
 least, as much embarrassed as they. But the strange 
 silence did not last long, for presently the stranger began to 
 understand. He saw how inexperienced, how helpless 
 (mentally speaking), the two poor creatures were, and he 
 tried to speak gently. 
 
250 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 4 1 am far from coming as an enemy, citoyenftes_ 
 
 he began. Then he suddenly broke off and went on 
 4 Sisters, if anything should happen to you, believe me, ] 
 shall have no share in it. I have come to ask a favou 
 of you/ 
 
 Still the women were silent. 
 
 4 If I am annoying you — if—if I am intruding, speak 
 freely, and I will go; but you must understand that I am 
 entirely at your service; that if I can do anything for you, 
 you need not fear to make use of me. I, and I only, per¬ 
 haps, am above the law, since there is no King now.’ 
 
 There was such a ring of sincerity in the words that 
 Sister Agathe hastily pointed to a chair as if to bid their 
 guest be seated. Sister Agathe came of the house of Lan- 
 geais ; her manner seemed to indicate that once she had 
 been familiar with brilliant scenes, and had breathed the air 
 of courts. The stranger seemed half pleased, half dis¬ 
 tressed when he understood her invitation; he waited to sit 
 down until the women were seated. 
 
 4 You are giving shelter to a reverend father who refused 
 to take the oath, and escaped the massacres at the Carmel¬ 
 ites by a miracle-’ 
 
 4 Hosanna ! ’ Sister Agathe exclaimed eagerly, interrupt¬ 
 ing the stranger, while she watched him with curious eyes. 
 
 4 That is not the name, I think,’ he said. 
 
 4 But, Monsieur,’ Sister Marthe broke in quickly, 4 we 
 have no priest here, and-’ 
 
 4 In that case you should be more careful and on your 
 guard,’ he answered gently, stretching out his hand for a 
 breviary that lay on the table. 4 1 do not think that you 
 know Latin, and-’ 
 
 He stopped; for, at the sight of the great emotion in the 
 faces of the two poor nuns, he was afraid that he had gone 
 too far. They were trembling, and the tears stood in their 
 eyes. 
 
 4 Do not fear,’ he said frankly. 4 1 know your names 
 
An Episode of the Terror 251 
 
 and the name of your guest. Three days ago I heard of 
 your distress and devotion to the venerable Abbe de-’ 
 
 ‘Hush!’ Sister Agathe cried, in the simplicity of her 
 heart, as she laid her finger on her lips. 
 
 ‘You see, Sisters, that if I had conceived the horrible 
 idea of betraying you, I could have given you up already, 
 more than once-’ 
 
 At the words the priest came out of his hiding-place and 
 stood in their midst. 
 
 ‘ I cannot believe, Monsieur, that you can be one of our 
 persecutors,’ he said, addressing the^stranger, ‘and I trust 
 you. What do you want with me ? 
 
 The priest’s holy confidence, the nobleness expressed in 
 every line in his face, would have disarmed a murderer. For 
 a moment the mysterious stranger, who had brought an 
 element of excitement into lives of misery and resignation, 
 gazed at the little group; then he turned to the priest and 
 said, as if making a confidence, ‘ Father, I came to beg you 
 to celebrate a mass for the repose of the soul of—of—of 
 an august personage whose body will never rest in conse- 
 crated earth-■’ 
 
 Involuntarily the abbe shivered. As yet, neither or the 
 Sisters understood of whom the stranger was speaking-, 
 they sat with their heads stretched out and faces turned 
 toward the speaker, curiosity in their whole attitude. The 
 priest, meanwhile, was scrutinising the stranger; tnere was 
 no mistaking the anxiety in the man’s face, the ardent 
 entreaty in his eyes. 
 
 c Very well,’ returned the abbe. c Come back at mid- 
 night. I shall be ready to celebrate the only funeral service 
 that it is in our power to offer in expiation of the crime of 
 which you speak.’ 
 
 A quiver ran through the stranger, but a sweet yet 
 sober satisfaction seemed to prevail over a hidden anguish. 
 He took his leave respectfully, and the three generous souls 
 felt his unspoken gratitude. 
 
V 
 
 252 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 Two hours later, he came back and tapped at the garret 
 door. Mademoiselle de Beauseant showed the way into the 
 second room in their humble lodging. Everything hac 
 been made ready. The Sisters had moved the old chesi 
 of drawers between the two chimneys, and covered its 
 quaint outlines over with a splendid altar cloth of green 
 watered silk. 
 
 The bare walls looked all the barer, because the one 
 thing that hung there was the great ivory and ebony cruci¬ 
 fix, which of necessity attracted the eyes. Four slendei 
 little altar candles, which the Sisters had contrived to fasten 
 into their places with sealing-wax, gave a faint pale light, 
 almost absorbed by the walls; the rest of the room lay well- 
 nigh in the dark. But the dim brightness, concentrated 
 upon the holy things, looked like a ray from Heaven shin¬ 
 ing down upon the unadorned shrine. The floor was reek 
 ing with damp. An icy wind swept in through the chinks 
 here and there, in a roof that rose sharply on either side, 
 after the fashion of attic roofs. Nothing could be less 
 imposing; yet perhaps, too, nothing could be more solemn 
 than this mournful ceremony-/ A silence so deep that the) 
 could have heard the faintest sound of a voice on the 
 Route d’Allemagne, invested the night-piece with a kind 
 of sombre majesty; while the grandeur of the service — all 
 the grander for the strong contrast with the poor surround¬ 
 ings — produced a feeling of reverent awe. 
 
 The Sisters kneeling on either side the altar, regardless 
 of the deadly chill from the wet brick floor, were engaged 
 in prayer, while the priest, arrayed in pontifical vestments, 
 brought out a golden chalice set with gems; doubtless one 
 of the sacred vessels saved from the pillage of the Abbaye 
 de Chelles. Beside a ciborium, the gift of royal munifi¬ 
 cence, the wine and water for the holy sacrifice of the 
 mass, stood ready in two glasses such as could scarcely be 
 found in the meanest tavern. For want of a missal, the 
 priest had laid his breviary on the altar, and a common 
 
An Episode of the Terror .253 
 
 earthenware plate was set for the washing of hands that 
 were pure and undefiled with blood. It was all so in¬ 
 finitely great, yet so little, poverty-stricken yet noble, a 
 mingling of sacred and profane. 
 
 The stranger came forward reverently to kneel be¬ 
 tween the two nuns. But the priest had tied crape round 
 the chalice of the crucifix, having no other way of marking 
 the mass as a funeral service; it was as if God himself had 
 been in mourning. The man suddenly noticed this, and 
 the sight appeared to call up some overwhelming memory, 
 for great drops of sweat stood out on his broad forehead. 
 
 Then the four silent actors in the scene looked mysteri¬ 
 ously at one another; and their souls in emulation seemed 
 to stir and communicate the thoughts within them until all 
 were melted into one feeling of awe and pity. It seemed 
 to them that the royal martyr whose remains had been 
 consumed with quicklime, had been called up by their 
 yearning and now stood, a shadow in their midst, in all 
 the majesty of a king. They were celebrating an anni¬ 
 versary service for the dead whose body lay elsewhere. 
 Under the disjointed laths and tiles, four Christians were 
 holding a funeral service without a coffin, and putting up 
 prayers to God for the soul of a King of France. No 
 devotion could be purer than this. It was a wonderful act 
 of faith achieved without an afterthought. Surely in the 
 sight of God it was like the cup of cold water which 
 counterbalances the loftiest virtues. The prayers put up 
 by two feeble nuns and a priest represented the whole Mon¬ 
 archy, and possibly at the same time, the Revolution found 
 expression in the stranger, for the remorse in his face was 
 so great that it was impossible not to think that he was ful¬ 
 filling the vows of a boundless repentance. 
 
 When the priest came to the Latin words, Introibo ad 
 altare Dei a sudden divine inspiration flashed upon him ; he 
 looked at the three kneeling figures, the representatives of 
 Christian France, and said instead, as though to blot out 
 
25*4 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 the poverty of the garret, c We are about to enter th« 
 Sanctuary of God ! ’ 
 
 Those words, uttered with thrilling earnestness, strucl 
 reverent awe into the nuns and the stranger. Under th« 
 vaulted roof of St. Peter’s at Rome, God would not hav< 
 revealed Himself in greater majesty than here for the eye 
 of the Christians in that poor refuge; so true is it tha 
 all intermediaries between God and the soul of man ar< 
 superfluous, and all the grandeur of God proceeds fron 
 Himself alone. 
 
 The stranger’s fervour was sincere. One emotioi 
 blended the prayers of the four servants of God and th 
 King in a single supplication. The holy words rang lik 
 the music of heaven through the silence. At one mo 
 ment, tears gathered in the stranger’s eyes. This wa 
 during the Pater Noster; for the priest added a petitioi 
 in Latin, and his audience doubtless understood him whei 
 he said : c Et remitt e scelus regicidis si cut Ludovicus eis remisi 
 semetipse ’—forgive the regicides as Louis himself forgav* 
 them. 
 
 The Sisters saw two great tears trace a channel dowi 
 the stranger’s manly cheeks and fall to the floor. Thei 
 the office for the dead was recited ; the Domine salvum fa 
 regem chanted in an undertone that went to the hearts of 
 the faithful Royalists, for they thought how the child-Kim 
 for whom they were praying was even then a captive ii 
 the hands of his enemies; and a shudder ran througi 
 the stranger, as he thought that a new crime might b< 
 committed, and that he could not choose but take hi 
 part in it. 
 
 The service came to an end. The priest made a sigr 
 to the Sisters, and they withdrew. As soon as he wa: 
 left alone with the stranger, he went toward him wit! 
 a grave, gentle face, and said, in fatherly tones : — 
 
 c My son, if your hands are stained with the blood of 
 the royal martyr, confide in me. There is no sin tha 
 
An Episode of the Terror 255 
 
 nay not be blotted out in the sight of God by penitence 
 is sincere and touching as yours appears to be.’ 
 
 At the first words, the man started with terror, in spite 
 )f himself. Then he recovered composure, and looked 
 juietly at the astonished priest. 
 
 ‘Father/ he said, and the other could not miss the 
 :remor in his voice, 4 no one is more guiltless than I of 
 ;he blood shed-’ 
 
 4 1 am bound to believe you/ said the priest. He paused 
 1 moment, and again he scrutinised his penitent. But, per¬ 
 sisting in the idea that the man before him was one of the 
 members of the Convention, one of the timorous voters 
 who betrayed an inviolable and anointed head to save their 
 own, he began again gravely : — 
 
 4 Remember, my son, that it is not enough to have taken 
 no active part in the great crime *, that fact does not absolve 
 you. The men who might have defended the King and 
 left their swords in their scabbards, will have a very heavy 
 account to render to the King of Heaven — Ah! yes/ he 
 added, with an eloquent shake of the head, 4 heavy indeed ! 
 — for by doing nothing they became accomplices in the 
 awful wickedness- * 
 
 4 But do you think that an indirect participation will be 
 punished ? 9 the stranger asked with a bewildered look. 
 ‘There is the private soldier commanded to fall into line — 
 is he actually responsible ? 9 
 
 The priest hesitated. The stranger was glad ; he had 
 put the Royalist precisian in a dilemma, between the dogma 
 of passive obedience on the one hand (for the upholders of 
 the Monarchy maintained that obedience was the first prin¬ 
 ciple of military law), and the equally important dogma 
 which turns respect for the person of a King into a matter 
 of religion. In the priest’s indecision he was eager to see 
 a favourable solution of the doubts which seemed to tor¬ 
 ment him. To prevent too prolonged reflection on the 
 part of the reverend Jansenist he added : — 
 
256 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 4 1 should blush to offer remuneration of any kind for the 
 funeral service which you have just performed for the re¬ 
 pose of the King’s soul and the relief of my conscience. 
 The only possible return for something of inestimable value 
 is an offering likewise beyond price. Will you deign, 
 Monsieur, to take my gift of a holy relic ? A day will per¬ 
 haps come when you will understand its value.’ 
 
 As he spoke the stranger held out a box ; it was very 
 small and exceedingly light. The priest took it mechani¬ 
 cally, as it were, so astonished was he by the man’s solemn 
 words, the tones of his voice, and the reverence with which 
 he held out the gift. 
 
 The two men went back together into the first room. 
 The Sisters were waiting for them. 
 
 4 This house that you are living in belongs to Mucius 
 Scaevola, the plasterer on the first floor,’ he said. 4 He is 
 well known in the Section for his patriotism, but in reality 
 he is an adherent of the Bourbons. He used to be a hunts¬ 
 man in the service of his Highness the Prince de Conti, and he 
 owes everything to him. So long as you stay in the house, 
 you are safer here than anywhere else in France. Do not 
 go out. Pious souls will minister to your necessities, and 
 you can wait in safety for better times. Next year, on 
 the 21 st of January,’ — he could not hide an involuntary 
 shudder as he spoke, — 4 next year, if you are still in this 
 dreary refuge, I will come back again to celebrate the 
 expiatory mass with you-’ 
 
 He broke off, bowed to the three, who answered not a 
 word, gave a last look at the garret with its signs of pov¬ 
 erty, and vanished. 
 
 Such an adventure possessed all the interest of a romance 
 in the lives of the innocent nuns. So, as soon as the 
 venerable abbe told them the story of the mysterious gift, 
 it was placed upon the table, and by the feeble light of the 
 tallow dip an indescribable curiosity appeared in the three 
 anxious faces. Mademoiselle de Langeais opened the box, 
 
An Episode of the Terror 257 
 
 id found a very fine lawn handkerchief, soiled with sweat; 
 irker stains appeared as they unfolded it. 
 
 1 That is blood ! ’ exclaimed the priest. 
 
 1 It i s marked with a royal crown! ’ cried Sister 
 
 Lgathe. . c n 
 
 The women, aghast, allowed the precious relic to tall, 
 'or their simple souls the mystery that hung about the 
 tranger grew inexplicable; as for the priest, from that day 
 jrth he did not even try to understand it. 
 
 Before very long the prisoners knew that, in spite of the 
 Terror, some powerful hand was extended over them. It 
 >egan when they received firewood and provisions; and 
 lext the Sisters knew that a woman had lent counsel to 
 heir protector, for linen was sent to them, and clothes in 
 vhich they could leave the house without causing remark 
 lpon the aristocrat’s dress that they had been forced to 
 year. After awhile Mucius Scaevola gave them two civic 
 :ards; and often and often tidings necessary for the priest’s 
 safety came to them in roundabout ways. Warnings and 
 idvice reached them so opportunely that they could only 
 lave been sent by some person in the possession of state 
 secrets. And, at a time when famine threatened Paris, 
 invisible hands brought rations of c white bread ’ for the 
 proscribed women in the wretched garret. Still they 
 fancied that Citizen Mucius Scaevola was only the mys¬ 
 terious instrument of a kindness always ingenious, and no 
 less intelligent. 
 
 The noble ladies in the garret could no longer doubt that 
 their protector was the stranger of the expiatory mass on 
 the night of the 22d of January, 1793 ; and a kind of cult of 
 him sprang up among them. Their one hope was in him; 
 they lived through him. They added special petitions for 
 him to their prayers; night and morning the pious souls 
 prayed for his happiness, his prosperity, his safety; entreat¬ 
 ing God to remove all snares far from his path, to deliver 
 
258 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 him from his enemies, to grant him a long and peaceful 
 life. And with this daily renewed gratitude, as it may 
 be called, there blended a feeling of curiosity which grew 
 more lively day by day. They talked over the circum¬ 
 stances of his first sudden appearance, their conjectures 
 were endless; the stranger had conferred one more benefit 
 upon them by diverting their minds. Again, and again, 
 they said, when he next came to see them as he promised! 
 to celebrate the sad anniversary of the death of Louis XVI, 
 he should not escape their friendship. 
 
 The night so impatiently awaited came at last. At mid¬ 
 night the old wooden staircase echoed with the stranger’s 
 heavy footsteps. They had made the best of their room 
 for his coming ; the altar was ready, and this time the door 
 stood open, and the two Sisters were out at the stairhead, 
 eager to light the way. Mademoiselle de Langeais even 
 came down a few steps, to meet their benefactor the 
 sooner. 
 
 c Come,’ she said, with a quaver in the affectionate tones, 
 c come in ; we are expecting you.’ 
 
 He raised his face, gave her a dark look, and made no 
 answer. The Sister felt as if an icy mantle had fallen over 
 her, and said no more. At the sight of him, the glow of 
 gratitude and curiosity died away in their hearts. Perhaps 
 he was not so cold, not so taciturn, not so stern as he 
 seemed to them, for in their highly wrought mood they 
 were ready to pour out their feeling of friendship. But the 
 three poor prisoners understood that he wished to be a 
 stranger to them; and submitted. The priest fancied that 
 he saw a smile on the man’s lips as he saw their prepara¬ 
 tions for his visit, but it was at once repressed. He heard 
 mass, said his prayer, and then disappeared, declining, with 
 a few polite words, Mademoiselle de Langeais’s invi¬ 
 tation to partake of the little collation made ready for 
 him. 
 
 After the 9th Thermidor, the sisters and the Abbe de 
 
An Episode of the Terror 2 59 
 
 arolles could go about Paris without the least danger, 
 he first time that the abbe went out he walked to a per- 
 mer’s shop at the sign of The Queers of Roses, kept by the 
 itizen Ragon and his wife, court perfumers. The Ragons 
 id been faithful adherents of the Royalist cause; it was 
 trough their means that the Vendeen leaders kept up a 
 irrespondence with the Princes and the Royalist Com- 
 littee in Paris. The abbe, in the ordinary dress of the 
 me, was standing on the threshold of the shop—-which 
 ood between Saint Roch and the Rue des Frondeurs — 
 'hen he saw that the Rue Saint Honore was filled with a 
 rowd and he could not go out. 
 
 i What is the matter ? ’ he asked Madame Ragon. 
 
 ‘Nothing,’ she said; ‘ it is only the tumbril cart and the 
 xecutioner going to the Place Louis XV. Ah ! we used to 
 lee it often enough last year; but to-day, four days after 
 he anniversary of the twenty-first of January, one does not 
 eel sorry to see the ghastly procession. 
 
 ‘ Why not ? ’ asked the abbe. ‘ That is not said like a 
 
 Christian.’ 
 
 ‘Eh! but it is the execution of Robespierre s accom- 
 ilices. They defended themselves as long as they could, 
 but now it is their turn to go where they sent so many 
 nnocent people.’ 
 
 The crowd poured by like a flood. The abbe, yielding 
 o an impulse of curiosity, looked up above the heads, and 
 here in the tumbril stood the man who had heard mass 
 n the garret three days ago. > 
 
 ‘ Who is it ? ’ he asked ; ‘ who is the man with- 
 
 ‘ That is the headsman,’ answered M. Ragon, calling 
 the executioner—the executeur des hautes oeuvres — by the 
 name he had borne under the Monarchy. 
 
 ‘Oh! my dear, my dear! M. l’Abbe is dying!’ cried 
 out old Madame Ragon. She caught up a flask of vinegar, 
 and tried to restore the old priest to consciousness. 
 
 ‘ He must have given me the handkerchief that the 
 
260 An Episode of the Terror 
 
 King used to wipe his brow on the way to his martyrdom,’ 
 murmured he. ‘. . . Poor man! . . . There was r> 
 heart in the steel blade, when none was found in al 
 France. . . .’ 
 
 The perfumers thought that the poor abbe'was raving 
 
 Paris, January , 1831 . 
 

 4