A week had elapsed during which Julia had spent almost her whole time in loitering around the Marquis de Villebelle's hotel; she had not gained much by this however, for all that she could be sure of was that Villebelle was not there. Chaudoreille, for his part, had made no better progress; he was very sure that the marquis had not been to the barber's, and the latter kept very closely to his shop, rarely leaving home except to go to his customers' residences. What most surprised Chaudoreille was the fact that since he had watched he had not once seen young Urbain go to the barber's house nor had he encountered him in his prowling about the streets. He was ignorant of the fact of which the reader is well aware, that the young bachelor was still kept in bed by fever, and that the impatience and grief which had caused his illness had greatly retarded his convalescence.
Julia whose proud and haughty spirit could not endure the situation in which she found herself, keenly desired to wreak her vengeance on the lover who had betrayed and abandoned her, andVillebelle being still absent, she charged Chaudoreille to take her place in the neighborhood of the hotel, and stationed herself in the Rue des Bourdonnais; Chaudoreille accepted this change with great pleasure, delighted to leave the neighborhood of the barber's house. The young woman did not intend merely to watch Touquet's dwelling, she wished to introduce herself there, to talk with Marguerite, to learn from the good old woman all the details of Blanche's disappearance. Julia was courageous and enterprising; she was Italian, and she wished to revenge herself; and thus possessed three times as much as was necessary to compass her ends.
She was not afraid of Touquet, but she readily felt that it was only in his absence that she could hope to speak to Marguerite, and she formed her plan in accordance with the information which she had received in the neighborhood, in regard to the old servant. Towards evening, Julia saw the barber leave his dwelling. As soon as he had departed, she went and knocked at the door of the house. Marguerite was disconsolate at having no news of her dear Blanche, and what completed the despair of the good old woman was that she could hear nothing of Urbain. When she uttered the name of Blanche before her master he ordered her to be silent in a severe tone, and it was only in solitude that she dared to give way without constraint to her grief.
"Who is there?" asked Marguerite, following her custom.
"Someone who brings you news of Blanche," answered Julia.
On hearing her dear child's name, Marguerite unhesitatingly opened the door; she had, besides, recognized a woman's voice, and grief had rendered her less fearful than formerly. Julia entered; she was wrapped in a black mantilla, larger than those in use among the Spaniards, and wore a cap of the same hue, from which two black feathers fell gracefully on her left shoulder. This costume, her decided step, and the animation which sparkled in her black eyes, gave to the whole person of the young Italian, a strangely fantastic distinction, but Marguerite did not notice all this, and exclaimed on seeing her,—
"Have you brought me back my dear Blanche?"
"Not yet, but I shall make every effort that you may soon see her again. In order to do this it is necessary that I should talk with you; take me to your room."
"But my master has forbidden me to receive anybody," said Marguerite, who began to regard Julia more attentively.
"Your master has gone out."
"He may come in at any moment."
"I know how to avoid him. You are very much afraid of him, are you not?"
"He's so strict."
"Come, my good Marguerite, don't let the fear you feel for the barber make you forget your dear Blanche. Upon the conversation which we shall have together, upon the information which you will give me, depends perhaps the success of my enterprise."
"Oh, to see my darling girl again, I feel that I would dare everything! Come, madame, follow me."
Marguerite went up to her room, followed by Julia, who closely scrutinized everything that she saw. While the old woman placed her lamp on the table and drew up some chairs, Julia took off her mantle; she wore beneath it a red robe, and in a black belt which surrounded her waist, she had stuck a little stiletto with an ebony handle.
This combination of red and black, which, following the old woman's chronicles, had always been the costume favored by magicians, the weapon which glittered in Julia's belt, all united to inspire Marguerite with a secret terror. She looked uneasily at the young woman and murmured, while offering her a seat,—
"May I know, madame, who you are, and where you have known my poor Blanche?"
"Who I am," answered Julia, smiling bitterly, "has no connection with the motive which brings me here. What does it matter, in fact, who I am, provided that I am willing to help you findthe one for whose loss you are grieving, and that I have the power to do so."
"The power," repeated Marguerite, who began to be afraid of a private conversation with one who frequented witches' sabbaths, "Oh, you have the power?"
"As to your dear Blanche, I do not know her, and I have never even seen her."
These words greatly increased Marguerite's terror, but Julia continued without paying any attention to it,—
"Listen to me, good woman, my personal interest leads me to seek Blanche. The one who abducted her was everything to me, I adored him, I would have sacrificed my life for him, and the ungrateful man has forgotten me. Do you understand now, the motive which has caused me to act?"
"Oh, I breathe more freely," said Marguerite, "yes, madame, I understand; this seigneur who came here is perhaps your husband. Alas! that does not astonish me, men are truly most unaccountable creatures."
"Tell me all that you know, good Marguerite."
Marguerite told her of the marquis' visit and of all that he had said.
"He had never seen her before that day?"
"Never, I can certify to that."
"And you left the marquis with the barber?"
"The marquis? was he a marquis then? Well, I had my doubts about it."
"Please answer me."
"Yes, madame, my master ordered me to go, and I left him with this marquis."
"And what followed?"
"I went to bed, madame, and I think that my dear Blanche did the same."
"That wretch Touquet was in league with the marquis. It was he who delivered up to him that young girl."
"What do you say, madame? do you think that my master?—"
"Is a scoundrel!"
"Speak lower, I beg of you; if he should come in, if he should hear you. But you are mistaken, madame, my master had consented to Blanche's marriage to Urbain."
"The better to hide his plans."
"Poor Urbain, I never see him; no doubt he is still looking for our dear little one."
"Where was Blanche's chamber?" said Julia, looking curiously around her.
"On the first floor looking on the street, madame. Since she came to this house she had occupied no other."
"It was to this house that she came, then, with her father who was murdered?"
"Yes, madame."
"Were you then in the barber's service?"
"No, madame, I didn't come here until three years after."
"Where does your master sleep?"
"Directly underneath this. This is why, if he should come in, I am afraid that he would hear us speak."
"Have you always had this room?"
"No, madame, I formerly had the one above Blanche's, and I liked it much better than this gloomy chamber, which has been unoccupied for a long time, and which I believe was formerly the dwelling of a magician named Odoard."
Julia arose and for some moments walked silently about the room. All of a sudden she exclaimed,—
"Oh, if these walls could only speak!"
"In fact," said Marguerite shaking her head, "I believe that we should learn some terrible things; a tier of tags, a sorcerer."
Julia seemed to be thinking deeply when they heard the street door shut.
"O my God! here is my master, I am lost," cried Marguerite; "he has expressly forbidden me to receive anybody."
"Keep still, he shall not know that I am here. Does he sometimes come up into your room?"
"No, but—good Saint Margaret—if he should discover—"
Julia put a finger on her mouth, as a sign for the old servant to be silent. Presently the barberwas heard calling Marguerite; who was trembling so that she did not know how to stand.
"Tell him that you are going down," said Julia.
Marguerite approached the door, then, thinking she heard her master coming upstairs,—
"Here he is—he'll see you," said she to Julia.
"You must hide me."
"Wait, I had forgotten it—quick—quick—in this closet."
Marguerite ran to her alcove, passed behind the bed, opened the little door hidden by the tapestry, and Julia, as quick as lightning, entered the closet. The old servant shut the door on her, took her lamp and hastened to go downstairs. Her master was in the lower room.
"You were very slow in coming down," said the barber, looking at Marguerite.
"Monsieur, at my age one cannot move quickly."
"Has anybody been here during my absence?"
"No, monsieur, nobody."
"Urbain, perhaps?"
"I assure you I haven't seen him."
"Chaudoreille?"
"No, nor him either."
The barber asked for what he needed and then made a sign to Marguerite to retire.
"Is monsieur going to stay up late?" asked she.
"What does that matter to you?" asked Touquet looking sternly at her, "I've already told you that I hate curious people as well as gossips."
"That's true. I'm going to bed, monsieur."
The old woman regained her room, closed the door carefully, and then went to release Julia, who had remained without a light in the little closet.
"Come, madame," said she, "come, you needn't stay in there now."
"A moment," said Julia, taking the lamp from Marguerite's hand, "I should like to examine this place."
"Oh, mercy! you will find nothing curious there. We went into it once, Blanche and I—"
"There is a door here," said Julia holding the light to the wall at the back.
"A door? do you think so? We didn't see it, but then we only remained for a moment and without a light."
Julia tried to open the door which led to the staircase, but she was not successful.
"This door is closed from the other side," said she, "it must communicate with some secret passage."
"What does it matter to you, madame? Come, I beg of you."
"It matters greatly to me. Oh, if I could acquire some proof to undo him."
"Proof of what, madame?"
"It's impossible to force this door."
Julia lowered the lamp and examined the floor to see if she could discover a trap door, while Marguerite remained at the entrance to the alcove to listen if her master should come up.
"What is in this big chest?" said Julia.
"It is empty, as you see. I don't know what use it is here, I shall burn it some day."
Julia stooped and lifted the chest, the better to examine it, then she thought she saw some object on the floor. She carried her light there, and found that it was an old portfolio of brown leather, which seemed to have been hidden beneath the chest, and appeared to have been there for some years, for the dust was thick around it. Julia uttered a joyful cry and seized the portfolio.
"What is it?" said Marguerite, "what have you got there?"
"Something tells me that in this portfolio I shall find that for which I am looking."
"This portfolio? O my God! where was it, then?"
"Silence—come, let us shut this door again."
Julia left the closet, shutting the door, and when she had replaced the lamp on the table, hastened to examine the portfolio and the papers which it held. Meanwhile, Marguerite, still uneasy, remained listening near the door, but while doing so she watched Julia, whose features expressed the most lively agitation. Suddenly a cruel joyflashed in the young Italian's eyes, and she dropped on a seat near the table, exclaiming,—
"I shall be avenged."
"But who can that portfolio belong to?" said Marguerite.
"To an unfortunate man whom your master murdered."
"Murdered! ah, madame, what are you saying?"
"Yes, everything proves it to me. This was the chamber in which he was lodged, because the secret passage would assist the murderer in the perpetration of his crime. The unfortunate man had, no doubt, visited this closet, and, without divining the misfortune which awaited him, had judged it prudent to hide under the chest his portfolio, which contains the proofs of an important secret."
"Ah, you make me shudder, madame."
Julia continued to examine the papers. Joy, surprise, hope, vengeance, were expressed in turn on her face.
"At last his fate is in my hands," exclaimed she, "perfidious man, to have betrayed me; tremble lest I inflict upon you torments more cruel than those you have made me suffer. And you, his odious accomplice, I will see that the marquis knows the monster who has assisted him in his amours."
Tremblingly Marguerite listened to Julia. Thelatter put back the papers in the portfolio and carefully hid it in her bosom, then resuming her mantle she prepared to depart.
"And Blanche," said the good old woman, "you have not told me more about Blanche, madame."
"Reassure yourself," answered Julia in a solemn tone, "Blanche's condition will now be changed, you will see her again. Good-by, my good woman, keep the closest silence in regard to the portfolio; Blanche's fate depends upon it."
"Fear nothing, madame."
"I'm going down without a light; Touquet should be in his room by now."
"If you should meet him?"
"I will not make the least noise."
"But it is necessary that I should go with you to open the door."
"You need not, I can open it myself."
"There is a secret in opening it. O my God, for a mere nothing I would go with you from this house. All that you've said about my master makes me shudder, and since my dear child is no longer here I find this dwelling very gloomy."
"It's very necessary that you should remain here in order to give me, as well as Urbain, information in regard to all that the barber does. Before long, good Marguerite, you shall be happier, and reunited to your dear Blanche."
"Oh, may all that you say prove true."
"Open your door; I don't hear the least sound on the staircase; let us hasten."
The old woman groped her way down, Julia followed her; they arrived at the foot of the stairs and were about to enter the alleyway when the barber, coming brusquely from the corridor which led to the lower room, met them, bearing a light in his hand. Marguerite uttered a cry of fear; the barber quickly held the light against Julia's face.
"Well, do you recognize me?" she said to him in an imperious tone.
Touquet started with surprise, but forcing himself to restrain his anger, he answered,—
"You, at my house, madame! and what did you come to seek here?"
"Some news of Blanche."
"Of Blanche?"
"Yes, that astonishes you! you did not suppose that I knew this young girl? You believed that the Marquis de Villebelle could yield to his new passion without my knowing the object of it, without my learning that you were still the confidant of his amours."
Touquet's eyes blazed with fury as he said to Julia,—
"Jealousy has disturbed your reason, madame. If your lover has left you is it to me that you should betake yourself? Why should you suppose that the marquis is the abductor of a young girl whom he has never seen?"
"Your falsehoods are useless. I know a great deal more than you think. If you should see the marquis before I do, advise him to hasten to restore Blanche to Urbain. If by your perfidious counsels he should become guilty of—he would be the first to punish you for your crime. As for me, you will see me again; I also have a secret to reveal to you."
Thus speaking, Julia walked towards the door. The barber made a movement as if to stop her, but she turned and her hand still grasped her stiletto. Turning on Touquet a terrible look, she rapidly left his house.
TOOgreatly agitated by what she had learned to retire and compose herself to rest, Julia several times during the night reperused the papers contained in the portfolio which she had found at the barber's, and she busied herself in forming new plans and meditating other projects of vengeance. The sleep she had defied did not once greet her eyelids, and dawn found her seated before a little table on which the portfolio was lying examining again a letter which she had taken from it.
At this moment, however, the bell rang thrice, and Julia hastened to lock the papers into their receptacle, and presently Chaudoreille entered her room.
"Well," was Julia's brusque greeting to the chevalier, "what have you learned?"
"Thanks to my assiduity I am at last enabled to bring you some important news," cried the little Gascon with a self-satisfied air. "For the past forty-eight hours I have not budged from before the marquis' hotel, minutely examining all who came or went."
"Well?"
"Well, indeed! The marquis has returned."
"He is here?"
"Yes, signora, at his hotel. I saw him arrive this morning in a travelling carriage."
"Very well, I shall see him, I hope."
"What orders have you to give me now? Where is it necessary for me to go? I am ready."
"You have not yet seen this young Urbain?"
"Alas, no, I'm of the opinion that the poor boy is dead from love; he was as thin as a cuckoo. I don't see what could have prevented his coming to our rendezvous."
"Return to the hotel. I tremble lest the marquis should leave without our knowing it, and in order to recover Blanche it is important that I should know the least step that Villebelle takes."
"That's very right. I'll return then to my post."
"Take this gold, but redouble your zeal; hasten; if you are tired, take a chair."
"I, take a sedan chair? I would much rather crawl all the way there. Don't disturb yourself, signora, my legs are always at my service."
Chaudoreille gone, Julia seated herself at her desk and prepared to write, but suddenly, throwing the pen far from her, she rose, exclaiming,—
"It's urgently necessary that I should see him, that I should speak to him; I will go to his hotel."
She immediately rang for her maid, and began to make her toilet. Despite the uneasiness she experienced, her mirror was often consulted, and she neglected nothing that would add to her charm. This important task accomplished, Julia sent for a sedan chair, and was carried to the marquis' dwelling. On entering the immense court of this magnificent hotel, the young Italian could hardly master her agitation.
"What does madame desire?" said the porter.
"To see the Marquis de Villebelle."
"Monseigneur returned from England only this morning, and as yet receives nobody."
"It is absolutely necessary that I should speak to him."
"That is impossible."
"Go, at least, and tell him that the Signora Julia desires to see him immediately."
The porter sent a lackey with this message, who soon returned, and said to Julia, with an impertinent air,—
"Monseigneur cannot receive you, and begs you to leave the hotel."
Julia could not swallow this affront; she looked furiously at the valet and abruptly left. Arrived at home she went to her desk and wrote the following note to the marquis,—
You refuse to see me; it depends, however, upon me to render you the most happy or most unhappy of men. I know that you are Blanche's abductor. Respect that young girl.Hasten to listen to me; I still wish to forgive you, but at some moments I listen to nothing but my fury.
You refuse to see me; it depends, however, upon me to render you the most happy or most unhappy of men. I know that you are Blanche's abductor. Respect that young girl.Hasten to listen to me; I still wish to forgive you, but at some moments I listen to nothing but my fury.
The letter written, she entrusted it to a faithful man, and awaited his return with the most lively impatience. The messenger at length came and brought an answer from the marquis. Julia seized it, and hastily read the following,—
My little Julia: your sweet note made me laugh a good deal; I find nothing more pleasing than those women who threaten us with their fury. The only vengeance which a woman in your situation can take upon a man is to deceive him,—and God knows whether you would use this means; but it is necessary, in order that the charm may work effectually, that it should be taken while he still loves you, without which it fails of its object. Your reign is past, my dear friend. You undoubtedly did not think to captivate the Marquis de Villebelle for long, and I sent you a check on my banker to settle the account. I do not know who could have told you that I had abducted a certain Blanche; once more, what does it matter to you? Am I not entitled to abduct ten women if that pleases me. Believe me, you had better not disquiet yourself about my actions or give yourself the further trouble of writing to me, for your letters will be returned to you unopened. Good-by, hot-head, I wish you a faithful lover, since you hold so much to fidelity.
My little Julia: your sweet note made me laugh a good deal; I find nothing more pleasing than those women who threaten us with their fury. The only vengeance which a woman in your situation can take upon a man is to deceive him,—and God knows whether you would use this means; but it is necessary, in order that the charm may work effectually, that it should be taken while he still loves you, without which it fails of its object. Your reign is past, my dear friend. You undoubtedly did not think to captivate the Marquis de Villebelle for long, and I sent you a check on my banker to settle the account. I do not know who could have told you that I had abducted a certain Blanche; once more, what does it matter to you? Am I not entitled to abduct ten women if that pleases me. Believe me, you had better not disquiet yourself about my actions or give yourself the further trouble of writing to me, for your letters will be returned to you unopened. Good-by, hot-head, I wish you a faithful lover, since you hold so much to fidelity.
Julia remained motionless, the letter was still in her hands, but she did not see it; one thought alone occupied her, the thought of vengeance, she seemed to give herself up to it with delight.
"You will have it, will you?" said she, "I will not hesitate longer."
However, the marquis was very much surprised that the young Italian should know who had abducted Blanche, and as soon as night came he wrapped himself in his cloak and went to the barber's house. Touquet himself opened to the nobleman, for the events of the night before and the fear which she had experienced seemed to have paralyzed old Marguerite, who was unable to leave her room.
"You here, monseigneur?" said the barber, with surprise, "I imagined that you were at your château, all taken up with your new love. Can it be that Blanche is already forgotten?"
"Forgotten? Why, I love her more than ever. But I was forced to come to Paris for some days, though I hope soon to return to Sarcus; each moment that I pass away from Blanche seems to me a century. However, I have not yet succeeded, and the remembrance of her Urbain—but let us come to the motive which has brought me hither. How is it that Julia knows that I have abducted Blanche? how could she have come to know this lovely child whom you kept with so much care?"
"You find me as much surprised as yourself, monseigneur. This young Italian had the audacity to introduce herself into my house yesterday evening; she presented herself, so my old house-keeper tells me, as bringing news of Blanche, but really she came to gather the details of her flight."
"She came also to my hotel; I refused to see her; she wrote to me, she threatened me. My fate is, said she, in her hands. You may imagine that I only laughed at these threats as inspired by the jealousy and spite of a woman. However, there's something very singular to me about it all."
"Wait, monseigneur, I believe I have a glimpse of light. Who informed you yourself that there was a charming young girl in my house?"
"Hang it! you recall it to my recollection. It was an original, a little man whom I found at my house in the Faubourg, hidden under a statue, and who pretended to have helped in the abduction of Julia."
"Chaudoreille?"
"It's that same."
"I should have divined it; there's no doubt of it, it was he who told Julia that you had abducted Blanche. If he should happen to know Urbain, I should not be astonished if he has told him also."
"The little clown! I paid him well enough for everything."
"After having caused the abduction, he does his best to help someone to find Blanche."
"Truly, that is not so very stupid; this is a boy who follows in your footsteps; but if you meet him, I recommend him to you. Give him a good beating."
"Be easy about that, monseigneur."
"For the rest, they may do what they please, they cannot snatch Blanche from my hands. This young girl has more power than all of them put together; one tear from her could, I feel, change all my resolutions. When I see her beautiful eyes turned towards me with a supplicating look, I am often about to sacrifice my love and to restore her to him whom she regrets, in the hope of at least obtaining her friendship."
"O monseigneur, what folly! Why, Blanche is in your power, and you are going—"
"No, no, she must belong to me; henceforth for me to separate from her is impossible. Besides, has she not told me that she is disposed to love me?"
"Come, monseigneur, pull yourself together. They will say that you yield to the threats of this little Julia."
"My uncle is very ill, perhaps he will not last through the night. I shall soon return to Sarcus, then I will not again leave Blanche, I will listen to nothing but my love."
"With women, monseigneur, that causes everything to be forgiven."
Since the barber knew that the marquis suspected where he had obtained his fortune, he believed that it was for his interest to lose sight of Blanche. If Villebelle dreamed of reëntering the path of honor, Touquet could no longer feel easy as to himself.
The marquis regained his hotel. As he had foreseen, his uncle expired during the night, leaving him immense wealth; which would lead one to think that fortune does not show her preference to those who make good use of her favors. But someone answers to that, that fortune does not make happiness; it is, therefore, necessary to console the unhappy a little.
A week sufficed the marquis to settle his affairs. At the end of that time he prepared to return to Blanche, to whom he carried presents of every kind, which were carefully packed in the travelling carriage.
Chaudoreille, who was continually on the watch about the hotel, saw these preparations for departure, and ran to tell Julia.
"Enough," said the young Italian, "I have long been prepared for this, and I have bought two good horses. You shall come with me."
"To the end of the world; I am devoted to you."
"I do not think that we shall have to go very far, we shall have nothing to do but follow the marquis' carriage."
"I understand you."
"You can ride a horse?"
"Perfectly; however, I prefer donkeys, they don't trot so fast."
"Idiot! can one hope to follow a post-chaise on an ass? Make all your preparations."
"They are made. I have my wardrobe upon me; as to my purse, yesterday evening I had some cursed ill-luck while you relieved me at the hotel. I didn't remain in the gambling-house longer than between five and ten minutes, and I had well calculated my play; well, I can say with Francis the First, I have lost everything but honor."
While Chaudoreille rattled on, Julia donned a large cloak, and took all the money which remained to her. Then she sent the Gascon to his post, while she went to get the horses. Towards seven o'clock in the evening the marquis got into his carriage with Germain and started for the Château de Sarcus, not for one moment thinking that Julia and Chaudoreille were following his carriage from afar.
Leaving the travellers to make their way we will return to poor Urbain, who, for a long time past, had languished on his bed, kept there by illness and grief. He was heartbroken at being without strength to go in search of his dear Blanche, and the good girl who gave him every care, incessantly repeated to him,—
"The more you disquiet yourself, the longer you retard your cure."
Someone had told him that a great nobleman was Blanche's abductor, and he was in despair at not having been able to keep his appointment with this man, who would have told him his rival'sname. But at last he felt better and could go out, and the first use which he made of his returning strength was to go to the barber's house. It was closed on every side, the shutters had not been taken down from the shop, although the hours of labor had long since begun; Urbain knocked, but no one opened to him.
"It is useless for you to knock," said a neighbor to him, "the house is empty and is for sale. You must inquire at the agent's, Rue des Mauvaises-Paroles."
"And the barber?"
"The barber has left it, I tell you, there's nobody there."
"And Marguerite?"
"She died a week ago."
"Marguerite is dead—is it possible?"
"Why, what is there so extraordinary in that? The poor woman wasn't young."
"Where can I find M. Touquet now?"
"I can't give you any information. That man was a bear, and he spoke to nobody."
Urbain departed, discouraged at this new event. He grieved for the good Marguerite, who had been the witness of his love and his happiness. He had no idea of any way in which he could obtain information as to Blanche's fate. He went to the Porte Montmartre and waited for three hours, in the hope that he who had given him an appointment would come there; but he waited invain, and then turned despairingly towards his lodging. The good-natured girl, to whom he made his lament, tried to console him by saying,—
"If it's a nobleman who has abducted your mistress, you must go and ask for her at all the great noblemen's houses."
Suddenly Urbain uttered a joyful exclamation, and a slight smile animated his pale and sorrowful features.
"There still remains one hope," he said.
"And what is that, monsieur?"
"In the midst of all these events I had forgotten that adventure, however, it may yet serve me."
"What adventure; monsieur?"
"Listen to me. You remember that in order to see Blanche I was for some time obliged to disguise myself as a woman."
"Oh, yes, monsieur, I remember very well. Didn't I help to dress you and to put in your pins?"
The girl smiled. Urbain paid no attention and continued,—
"One evening, I think it was the first time that I wore my disguise, having been accosted by several men, I escaped them by traversing many streets and it was very late when I found myself in the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs. I had almost reached my dwelling when I was stopped by four men, whom by their language I recognized as noblemen of the court. I confessed to them that I wasa man, hoping by that means to escape them, but one of them wanted me to tell him the motive for my disguise. I refused, he persisted; I got angry, he threatened; in short, one of his companions lent me his sword and we fought, I wounded my adversary, but very slightly, I think. 'My friend,' he said to me then, tendering me his hand, 'you are a brave man and I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance; if you should some day have need of a protector, come to my hotel, ask for the Marquis de Villebelle and you shall find me ready to oblige you.' Those are his exact words."
"The Marquis de Villebelle? Oh, I have sometimes heard my master speak of him. They say that he is a great nobleman, very generous, but a very wild fellow."
"No matter, he offered me his protection, and I shall have recourse to it."
"Mercy, monsieur, you will do well, and who knows whether he's not acquainted with the rascal who has stolen your darling."
"Yes, I hope that the marquis will help me to recover Blanche. These great noblemen tell each other their adventures, their good luck; such a brave man should have some pity on my torture. Why have I not already spoken to him—but his hotel?"
"Oh, he's very well known, monsieur, and it will be very easy for you to find that out."
On the morrow, as soon as it was day, Urbain went out to try and find the one on whom he placed his last hopes. He obtained information as to the marquis' hotel, and he soon arrived there.
"Monsieur le Marquis de Villebelle?" said he entering the court, and timidly addressing the porter.
"This is his hotel, but monsieur le marquis is not in Paris."
"Is not in Paris?" exclaimed Urbain, his heart contracting.
"No, he is travelling."
"Travelling? And will he soon be back?"
"He'll come back when he pleases. Do you think monseigneur needs your permission in order to go travelling?"
"That was not what I wished to say, monsieur, but I am in such haste to see monsieur le marquis, to speak to him."
"You can see him when he comes back, whenever monseigneur is willing to receive you."
The insolent porter returned to his lodge, took his glass and his fork, and resumed a copious breakfast, without paying any further attention to the young student, who remained in the court, heaving big sighs, as he said,—
"He's not in Paris; how unfortunate I am."
Ten minutes later Urbain softly approached the porter's lodge, and said to him in a supplicating tone,—
"Monsieur, can you not tell me where the marquis has gone?"
"What? Are you still there?" answered the porter without turning his head. "Can't you leave me to eat my breakfast in peace? I tell you that monseigneur is travelling. There are some people who are so stubborn; they all say the same thing, 'I wish to see monseigneur,' and they bother my head from morning till night."
Urbain would not be repulsed; he knew the customs of Paris, and took out his purse, in which he had put several crowns, and made it chink in his hand. Then the porter deigned to turn towards him, and said to him, a little more politely,—
"I'm truly sorry, but monseigneur is really absent, and between ourselves, I believe he will be so for a long time."
"O heavens!" said Urbain, "and he is my only hope. Oh, monsieur, if you know where monseigneur is, I entreat you to give me his address."
The young man held out his purse and advanced.
"Come in for a moment," said the porter opening the little door of his lodge; "yes, of course, I know where monseigneur is. It's very necessary that we should know that, in order that we may send him any important letters that may be addressed to him; but it's a secret. However,if you'll promise to be discreet, and to let nobody know that it was I who told you,—"
"I swear to you not to do so."
"Then I'll tell you. Monsieur le marquis is at his Château de Sarcus, situated in the neighborhood of Grandvilliers. Take the road to Beauvais and—"
Urbain did not wait to hear more; he threw his purse on the porter's table, hastily left the hotel, ran to his lodging, took all the money he had left, and the same day set out to seek the marquis at his château.
DURINGthe absence of the marquis from the Château de Sarcus the unhappy Blanche had passed some sad and monotonous days; she had grown used to seeing and talking with him, and hoped to induce him to allow her to rejoin Urbain; so the day after Villebelle's departure, astonished at not receiving his accustomed visit, she believed that he was disposed to take her back to Paris; but in the evening, not meeting him in the park as usual, Blanche, on her return to her room, asked the maid for some news of her host.
"Monseigneur has gone, he went away yesterday," answered the country girl.
"Gone without me!" exclaimed Blanche, raising to heaven her beautiful eyes, filled with tears and despair; "can it be possible that he wishes to keep me always a prisoner in this château, then?"
"Don't grieve, mademoiselle," said the good-natured girl, "monseigneur said that he would not be long absent."
Blanche made no answer, but returned to herroom, and there passed her days in grief and discouragement. She regretted the absence of the marquis, for the sweet child flattered herself that he would yet yield to her prayers. She had several times seen that her tears caused him emotion, and she still hoped that he would reunite her to Urbain; but left alone she no longer hoped, and the days rolled slowly by for the young prisoner. However, the return of springtime embellished the earth; the trees regained their foliage and the grass its verdure, the meadows were dotted with flowers, and the birds came again to the groves to sing the season of love. But, indifferent to the scenes which spread before her eyes, Blanche looked without pleasure on this charming perspective, with which at any other time she would have been delighted. The sorrow with which her heart was filled, threw a gloomy veil over all the objects which surrounded her.
Sometimes while walking in the park, Blanche considered the idea of escaping; but in what direction could she take her flight? Besides, the park was surrounded with very high walls, and the doors which led to the country were always scrupulously closed. The young girl was ignorant of the fact that in the absence of the marquis, two men servants watched her every step.
A deep melancholy seized her, the servant, Marie, tried in vain to distract her; sighs and tears were the only response which she obtained. Tendays had passed when Marie came running one morning to tell Blanche her master had arrived.
This news seemed to reanimate the young prisoner, and she waited impatiently for the marquis to come and speak to her. Villebelle, who ardently desired to see his captive, did not tarry in coming to her, and was greatly struck by the changes which had been wrought in her whole person.
"You have forgotten me, then, in this château?" said Blanche sighing.
"I forgotten you?"
"Why did you not take me to Paris, then? Are you going to keep me here long?"
"At least, Blanche, I will not leave you again."
"Let Urbain come to us, and I will not ask you to let me go away again."
The marquis knit his brows and tried to distract Blanche by offering her several pretty trifles which he had brought from Paris; but these presents were no better received than the first, and did not even evoke a smile from the young girl. In the evening Blanche and the marquis again walked in the park. Villebelle, more in love than ever, recalled the barber's counsels and promised himself the conquest of his captive, but when he was near Blanche, he felt all his resolutions vanish. One look from the lovely child put a curb on his desire, though it penetrated to the depth of his heart, and Villebelle said to himself,—
"By what magic does this young girl inspire me with a respect that is stronger than my love?"
Blanche, rendered confiding by her innocence, was seated at the entrance of a grotto which was surrounded by thick shrubbery. The marquis placed himself beside her. For a long time he remained silent, tenderly watching her. Then he took Blanche in his arms and was about to cull a kiss from her charming mouth, when she turned her supplicating eyes towards him, saying,—
"In pity, monseigneur, let me go."
Without knowing why he did so, he allowed the lovely girl to escape from his arms. He remained alone in the grotto; Blanche, experiencing a novel fear of the marquis, had fled, and the latter, cursing his weakness, returned to the château, vowing that he would no longer tremble before a child.
Julia and her companion had arrived at Sarcus and had seen the marquis enter the château. Chaudoreille had only fallen three times on the way, but he asserted that that was because his horse had been frightened. However, he complained greatly of fatigue, to which his companion appeared insensible, as she scrutinized the château which the marquis had entered, and its high towers illuminated by the sun.
"This is where he went, then," said the young Amazon, guiding her horse close against the walls.
"Yes, signora, there's not the least doubt that he went there, since we have seen him go in,"answered Chaudoreille, who had alighted from his horse, where he was not comfortable.
"That's the Château de Sarcus, according to what a peasant told me."
"It is, in faith, a very fine castle. My ancestors had ten or a dozen like that; but they played for one every evening at piquet, and you know that luck is not always favorable. But ugh! how tired I am, this palfrey trotted so hard."
"And within these walls Blanche is shut up."
"That's very probable. By jingo! but we came at a good pace, and at the present time I would defy the best jockey in France."
"How shall we know on which side this young girl is?"
"I think it's first necessary to know where we can get some breakfast; you must be terribly fatigued, signora."
"I don't feel in the least tired, the hope of vengeance has doubled my strength."
"I have had nothing to double mine; I'm knocked up, exhausted, and I'm as hungry as a hunter."
Julia alighted from her horse and led the animal to Chaudoreille.
"Mount him," she said, "and take the other by the bridle. Go to the village, which you see over there, find an inn, and there wait for me. I wish to examine the château."
"Enough, I'll go and make them get breakfastready. Oh, under what title shall we present ourselves? I have been thinking that it would be better to preserve our incognito in this part of the country."
"Say what you like."
"I shall say that we are Moors from Spain, that we have come from Granada to give lessons in castanets. That will prevent all suspicion, and our rather dark skins will foster the supposition."
Julia did not listen further to Chaudoreille and walked towards the château, while the chevalier, not caring to remount, took both horses by their bridles and went hobbling along to the village.
Chaudoreille inquired for the best inn. There was only one in the village and he reached it, leading his two horses after him. The master of the inn came to meet him, and Chaudoreille, trying to pull himself up, said to him,—
"I am Malek-al-Chiras of Granada, professor of castanets in the two Spains, and come to France with my sister, Salamalech, to dance the bolero before Cardinal Richelieu. We shall perhaps stay for some time in this village, but we wish to preserve the strictest incognito. Do you understand?"
"I don't understand very well," said the innkeeper, looking stupidly at him.
"In that case, prepare at once an omelette with bacon, give me a room, and take care of my horses, which are Arabian."
The innkeeper understood this better, and led his guest to a chamber on the first floor, to which Chaudoreille mounted with pain, so greatly had his long ride on horseback discommoded him.
After resting for some hours he went to the table, and had been there for a long time when Julia came in search of him.
"I awaited you with impatience," said Chaudoreille, while dismembering his third pigeon.
"Well, what have you learned?"
"My faith, I've learned that we shall not have fish for dinner."
"Idiot! I was speaking to you of the marquis."
"It seems to me that as I left you at the château, you should know more than me."
"I have been all around it, but I did not see anybody. You should have asked these peasants what they know of the château."
"They look as stupid as geese. How should these people know anything? By the way, you are my sister and you are called Salamalech."
"Chaudoreille, do you think that I brought you here to listen to your foolishness? Make haste and rest yourself and we will visit the neighborhood of the château; we will see if there is any way of introducing ourselves into the park."
"Begging your pardon, it will be very difficult for me to stir today. I am nailed before this table."
Finding it would be impossible to get her companion on his feet again, Julia left the inn, after taking a little nourishment, and again went to prowl around the walls of the château.
"The devil's in that woman," said Chaudoreille to himself as he got into bed, "she would be worthy to carry Rolande at her side." "My good host, put Rolande there, under my bolster. That's it, so that at the first alarm I can get him. Now see that you shut my door, and when my sister Salamalech returns tell her that I beg of her not to waken me before tomorrow at midday."
While Chaudoreille slept, Julia made the tour of the park and noticed a place where the wall was broken, and where it was possible to introduce one's self into the interior of the garden; but not wishing yet to risk it, she returned to her inn and tried to obtain some information about the inhabitants of the château. The peasants knew but one thing, and that was, that for the present, their lord was at Sarcus.
"But did not somebody bring a young girl to the chateau, some days ago?" asked Julia.
"When monseigneur is here the house is full of ladies and gentlemen," answered the host; who believed that the brother and sister had come to play their castanets before the marquis.
Julia decided to take a little rest, but the next day at dawn she repaired to Chaudoreille's room.
"Monsieur, your brother, is still sleeping," saidthe host whom she met, "and M. Malek-Al-de Granada has forbidden that anyone should wake him before noon."
Julia, without listening to the host, went into the chevalier's room. He was sleeping soundly, and she pulled him rudely by the ear.
"Did I bring you here with me," said she, "that you might sleep?"
"Oh, by jingo! how cruel you are, I was in my first slumber."
"Come, get up!"
"Get up? get up? I respect decency too much to rise before you."
"Get up, I tell you."
"Well, since you will have it so," and Chaudoreille put his two little thin legs out of bed, saying, "It appears that I cannot make her run away."
"You will go to the château, you will enter the first court, under the pretext of admiring the architecture, and you will chat with the porter."
"And if I am recognized?"
"By whom?"
"By monseigneur."
"Do you think he amuses himself by walking in the court? He is with his young captive."
"That is presumable."
"We will meet here presently and you will tell me all that you shall have learned. For my part, I am going to find my way into the park."
After a good breakfast, Chaudoreille started, enveloping himself in a mantle or cloak which Julia had given him, and which was so much too large for him that part of it dragged on the ground; but he admired himself very much in it, and felt himself six inches taller.
As he drew near the château, his first care was to look and see if there were a sentinel upon the wall, but perceiving nothing that seemed to indicate that the castle was upon a war footing he decided to advance. On arriving before the principal gate he walked for an hour, far and wide, before knowing if he should go into the château or not. The old porter, smoking his pipe before his door, perceived this little figure, trailing a cloak, and coming and going for a long while in the same circle. Irritated by this conduct, the porter left the château and walked towards Chaudoreille, to ask him what he did there. The latter, seeing a man walk with long steps towards him, imagined that the porter suspected him and was about to arrest him. Immediately he began to run on the sward, but presently his feet became entangled in the train of his cloak and he rolled on the grass. The porter, hearing someone calling in the château, did not continue his walk, and on rising Chaudoreille saw nobody. He then hastened to take the way to the village.
"This is enough of it for today," said he, "another time I shall not be so imprudent, I'll hidein the thickets which are within cannon shot of the castle," and he returned to his inn where, while awaiting dinner, he played at little quoits with his host, and insisted on teaching madame, his wife, to dance the bolero. Julia, hearing the noise, found Chaudoreille in the courtyard of the inn, in the midst of the fowls and manure, making many bows to a little woman of forty years, and beating time with Rolande, saying,—
"In Granada nobody dances except sword in hand. Ah, here is my sister Salamalech, she can make curtseys without touching her heels."
Julia pushed the dancing master into her room, saying to him,—
"What are you doing in that courtyard?"
"What the deuce! I did it the better to preserve our incognito, for prudence' sake."
"What have you learned this morning?"
"Many things. I believe there is a garrison at the château. I saw an armed man come out. As to little Blanche, I have a suspicion that they are keeping her in a subterranean dungeon."
"You're a fool. I've spoken to a young girl who lives at the château; I made her gossip. Blanche is in one of the towers which overlook the lake."
"Then the soldier whom I questioned must have lied to me. I had him, however, with my sword at his throat."
"Nobody has arrived at the château?"
"Oh, nobody, I'm sure of that, I have not lost sight of it."
"This evening I shall introduce myself into the park and I hope—"
"I hope that I'm not to introduce myself there."
"No, you are to watch outside."
"Ah, I'm good at watching outside; besides, I have the eyes of a cat, I can see clearly at night."
According to his custom the marquis went to visit Blanche on the day after the scene in the grotto, but she experienced a new dread at sight of him. She recalled how passionately he had folded her in his arms, and despite her innocence she felt a degree of fear as she saw him approach and seat himself at her side. The marquis knew women too well not to perceive the change in Blanche's manner. He tried to read the young girl's eyes, he wished to see again the sweet expression which so charmed him, but Blanche kept her eyes downcast, she trembled, and feared to meet those of the marquis. After a shorter visit than usual Villebelle left Blanche, and went to reflect on the means which he should employ to overcome her resistance. He awaited the evening impatiently, he flattered himself that he should be more fortunate in the gardens in making his peace with his young prisoner; but Blanche listened to a secret voice which told her she was not safe in the park with the marquis, and she did not intend to go there.
It had long been night, and vainly had Villebelle walked up and down the pathways where the young girl walked every evening. He did not meet her.
"She fears me," said he, "however, she does not hate me, she herself has told me so."
On passing before the grotto where they had sat the evening before, the marquis believed that he saw a shadow flit before him. Persuaded that it was Blanche, he ran to seize her. The person whom he pursued paused, turned, and, by the light of the moon, the marquis recognized Julia.
"You in this neighborhood, and in my park?" said Villebelle, with the greatest astonishment.
"Yes, monsieur le marquis," said Julia with a bitter smile, "does that astonish you? Monsieur de Villebelle should, however, understand all the pleasure which I experience in being near him."
"Once more, what are you doing here?"
"There was a time, monsieur le marquis, when my presence caused you no weariness, when you told me with the most tender vows that you would love me forever. Remember how often it was necessary to repeat those vows in order to make me yours."
The marquis made a gesture of impatience and exclaimed,—
"And is it to tell me this that you introduced yourself at night into my chateau?"
"No," said Julia, giving way to all her fury."Another motive led me to this place; it was the hope of vengeance. You have laughed at my love, at my grief; I will revel in your sufferings, you shall shed tears of blood when it will be too late."
"This is too much; your threats weary and make me despise you. If you have the power to fulfil them, why are you waiting for your revenge?"
"I am awaiting the presence of an indispensable witness, your worthy confidant, the barber Touquet."
Saying these words Julia glided among the trees, and disappeared before the marquis could stop her. Greatly surprised at this singular meeting, he was careful on reëntering the château to warn Germain; and ordered him to redouble his watchfulness in order that no one might gain access to Blanche.
THEmarquis returned in great agitation to his apartments. He was greatly incensed, but not at all intimidated by Julia's threats, which he attributed to spite and her jealousy. However, despite his lack of consideration for her he had cast off, there was something in the voice of the young Italian which carried conviction, and her eyes appeared to be animated by a barbaric joy when she had fixed them on those of the marquis, and warned him to beware.
Vexed at not having forced Julia to explain herself, Villebelle called his valet, and ordered him to search the park with some of his people, and if he met a woman to bring her immediately to the château. Germain, the gardener, and three men servants hastened to investigate the park and gardens, but they returned to the château without meeting anybody, and the marquis passed the night in reflecting upon the event. The presence of Julia had disturbed his peace; he feared that she would come and bring Blanche news of her lover. At daybreak he wrote to the barber and ordered him to come to the château.
Marguerite was dead; the old servant could not bear the loss of Blanche, and the fury of her master after Julia's visit. The barber, who had for a long time desired to sell his house, was about to go to a lawyer, when a letter was brought to him by a messenger from the marquis.
"He wishes that I should go to Sarcus," said Touquet to himself, after reading the note; "the marquis still has need of me. He has at times, an inclination for virtue which causes me uneasiness, but he pays generously; besides I can refuse him nothing. He has divined a part of my conduct, and if some day he should desire to ruin me as an expiation for all his own follies—for it is often in this manner that great folks repair their errors—but no, the marquis will commit follies as long as he lives; it is above all necessary that he should triumph over Blanche's virtue, for that would insure my safety."
Touquet made the preparations for his departure, and on the next day but one he arrived at the château, and presented himself to the marquis, who was awaiting him in his apartment.
"You see, monseigneur, with what haste I have obeyed your orders," said the barber, bowing.
"That is well; your presence here may be very useful to me. I feel that I need someone who will make me ashamed of my weakness. Would you believe that I am no further advanced in regard to Blanche?"
"I shouldn't believe it unless you told me so, monseigneur."
"It is certain that I should never have dreamed of it myself. She has been for three weeks at the château, and I have hardly dared to kiss her hand. Some days ago we were in the park, and I tried to advance a little further, but she supplicated me to let her go in so touching a voice, it affects me in a manner which I cannot account for, but I was nearly heartbroken at having caused her pain; since that time she has not left her room. When near me, she is fearful, embarrassed, and always in tears."
"All that will end, when you have made her yours, monseigneur."
"Have you seen her lover? This Urbain of whom she talks incessantly, and whom she calls at every moment of the day."
"No, monseigneur, and I presume that young Urbain, more reasonable than Blanche, has already forgotten that little love affair."
"The poor little thing is always thinking of him. If I could persuade her that he no longer loves her,—she would not, however, believe me. But in speaking to you of Blanche I forget the motive which induced me to send for you. You can never divine whom I met the day before yesterday, in the evening, in my park—Julia."
"Julia!" cried the barber, starting with surprise.
"Yes, she had entered these premises. But how could she have discovered that I was here?"
"I can't imagine, monseigneur."
"She had the audacity to threaten me, jealousy and rage shone in her eyes; she also spoke to me of you. I didn't understand all she was saying to me, and she disappeared when I was about to force her to explain further."
"Monseigneur, this young girl has some evil design."
"I think that, also. However, she has not reappeared since, and every evening my people make a general search in the park."
"No matter, Julia will do her utmost to take Blanche away from you."
"How do you think she will do it? You must visit the neighborhood, and if you discover Julia, tell her from me that I forbid her to present herself on these premises. If she still dares to come I can easily obtain a lettre-de-cachet, which will relieve me from her importunities."
"That will be the best thing you can do, monseigneur. Tomorrow I'll begin my researches."
"During the time which you are at the château, avoid passing through the park by the side of the lake, for you might be seen by Blanche, and I don't wish that she shall know you are here; I don't think that the sight of you would give her pleasure, and I desire to keep her from all that might add to her grief."
"I've never seen monseigneur so much in love."
"No, never has any woman inspired me with that which I feel for Blanche."
"I'm going to get some rest. Tomorrow at daybreak I shall take my way; I will search the neighborhood, I will visit the smallest cottages; Julia cannot evade my search, and as soon as I know where she is, I answer for it, monseigneur, that you will not see her again."
The barber was about to go as he said these words, but there was an expression on his face which did not escape the marquis. Villebelle ran to him and stopped him, saying in a severe tone,—
"Touquet, you have misunderstood me. Remember that I do not wish that any harm should come to Julia. That young girl is passionate, headstrong, but her love excuses it. One should always forgive the faults of which one is the first cause. I should, perhaps, have further considered her sensibility; I have treated her with too much disdain. If she will consent to become reasonable, promise her all that she shall ask. Scatter gold, that she may be happy. In addition to that, I wish to speak to her myself, that she may explain to me what she wished to tell in her letter."
"In that case, monseigneur, as soon as I have discovered her retreat, I will hasten to let you know it."
The barber bowed low to the marquis and left the apartment.
"That man is a deep scoundrel," said Villebelle, as he watched Touquet depart. "For a long time I thought he was only a schemer and a thief; why should he still be necessary to me? But I can't charge Germain to speak to Julia. Julia! I believed for a little while that I loved her. Ah, what a difference there is between that passionate, vindictive woman and the sweet and charming Blanche. Why should Julia love me so passionately, and yet I cannot kindle in the breast of that timid child a spark of the fire which consumes me?"
While the marquis was dreaming of Blanche, who, sad and solitary in her lonely room, passed her days in praying to Heaven and weeping for her lover, Julia, after her nocturnal meeting with Villebelle, sought to gain speech with the young prisoner. The watchfulness of the marquis' people did not prevent her from gliding through the park; but though she drew near the lake it was impossible to reach the tower; they had taken away all the boats for fear that one of them should serve as a means of approaching Blanche's windows. As for Chaudoreille, being ordered to watch all who entered or left the château, he hid himself in a thick bush, which was about two cannon shots from the entrance to the castle; and there, having Rolande bare at one side by way of precaution, and a bottle of wine at the other, he passed his day with a pack of cards, studying a new mannerof turning the king and of re-turning the aces, hiding entirely under his immense mantle at the slightest sound.
The day after his arrival at the château, the barber commenced his search. Not imagining for a moment that Julia would conceal herself at Sarcus, he visited Damerancourt, and Grandvilliers, and returned towards the evening to Sarcus. As he approached the village, he perceived in front of him a little man enveloped in a brown cloak, under which it was difficult to distinguish his body, but a long sword, whose handle protruded from one side of his cloak, betrayed who carried it.
"It's Chaudoreille," said the barber to himself, and he hastened that he might catch up with him. The little man, when he heard someone behind him, was seized with terror, and also tried to walk faster, but the unfortunate cloak entangled his legs at every step, and soon he felt himself pulled by the handle of his sword. He turned and was petrified at seeing the barber Touquet.
"Where are you going, Chevalier Chaudoreille?" said the barber, in a mocking tone.
"Where am I going? By jingo! How are you, my good friend?"
"You clown," said the barber, "I've heard some fine things about you."
"One mustn't believe all that one hears, my dear Touquet."
"And don't you think I ought to believe monsieurle marquis? It was you who told him about Blanche, despite your vows."
"You know very well that between ourselves an oath is not binding, and what have you to complain of? I was the means of your obtaining a large sum of money."
"And do you serve Julia now?"
"Yes, I serve Julia. I will serve you, if you wish, I will serve anybody; I have always been very obliging."
"Where is Julia?"
"She wishes to preserve her incognito."
"Answer, wretch, no more lies."
"Ow! leave go of my ear, you are hurting me. We are lodging in this village at the inn; there is only one here. Julia passes as my sister, and I for a Moor of Granada, professor of castanets."
"What are Julia's plans?"
"The devil carry me away if I have any idea of them. She passes her days and a part of her nights in prowling about the château, like a fox watching a chicken. Between ourselves I believe she's a little cracked."
"And with what design did she bring you here?"
"Simply to keep her company. She likes my society very much, I sing villanelles to her."
"Listen to me, I ought to break your back to punish you for what you've done."
"O my dear Touquet, that was a joke."
"Get along with you, I despise you too much to strike you."
"That's very civil on your part."
"Have you told me the truth?"
"If you doubt it, come with me to the inn. Julia will not be long before she comes in."
"No, I can't go there this evening; but I forbid you to say a word to her about our meeting."
"As soon as you forbid me, it's as if you had cut out my tongue."
"If I don't find Julia tomorrow in the place you have told me of, monsieur le marquis himself will see that you are punished, and this time there will be no quarter given you."
"You may be sure I'll obey you."
"Good-by, I'm going back to the château."
"And I to the village—where I shall not await your visit," said Chaudoreille, in a low tone, gathering his cloak up under his arm that he might walk more quickly.
Touquet returned to the château and sought the marquis. It was night, and Villebelle was seated before a table as sumptuously furnished as was possible at the château; but the marquis, presuming that he should make a long sojourn there, had had his cellars replenished, and if the fare was not so delicate as in Paris, the wines were no less exquisite. The marquis appeared gayer than usual. He had already emptied several bottles, and nearhim were several letters which he read while supping.