Pichon and sons of the Crois Rouse. Girodier, pharmacien premiere class, is
a legend recorded in huge, ill proportioned letters, which directs the attention of
the stranger to the most prosperous looking shop in the grand plus of La Croix
Rousse, a well known suburb of the beautiful city of Lyons, which has
its share of the shabby gentility and poor pretense common to the suburban commerce of
great towns. Girodier is not only pharmacien but proprieterre, though not by inheritance.
His possession of one of the prettiest and most prolific of the small vineyards
in the beautiful suburb, and a charming inconvenient house with low ceilings, little
Putian bedrooms and a profusion of perciennes, jalousie and controvans, comes by purchase.
This enviable littleterire was sold by the nation when that terrible abstraction transacted the
public bases of France, and it was bought very cheaply by the strong minded
father of the Girodier of the present, who was not disturbed by the evil
reputation which the place had gained at a time when the peasants of France,
having been bullied into a renunciation of religion eagerly cherished superstition. The Girodier of
the present cherishes the particular superstition in question affectionately. It reminds him of an
uncommonly good bargain made in his favor, which is always a pleasant association of
ideas, especially to a Frenchman, still more especially to a Leonett. And
it attracts strangers to his pharmacy and leads to transactions in grand chartreuse and Creme
de rouse, ensuing naturally on the narration of the history of Pichon and Sons.
Girodier is not of aristocratic principles and sympathies. On the contrary, he
has decided republican leanings and considers Le Progres a masterpiece of journalistic literature. But
as he says simply and strongly, it is not because a man is a
marquis that one is not to keep faith with him. A bad action is
not good because it harms a good for nothing of a noble the more when
that good for nothing is no longer a noble but poor uer at the easy
price of acquiescence in these sentiments. The stranger here is one of the most
authentic, best remembered, most popular of the many traditions of the bad old
times. Before General Buonaparte as Euroudet, who has no sympathy with any later
designation of lacron Dame, calls the Emperor whose statue one can perceive a speck
in the distance from the threshold of the pharmacy. The Marquis de Saintange,
in the days of the triumph of the Great Revolution, was fortunate enough to
be out of France and wise enough to remain away from that country, though
he persisted long after the old regime was as dead as the Ptolemies, and
believing it merely suspended and the Revolution a lamentable accident of vulgar complexion but happily
temporary duration. The Marquis de Saintnant, who affected the Steele regions and was
the politest of infidels and the most refined of voluptuaries, got on indifferently in
inappreciative foreign parts, but the members of his family, his brothers and sisters,
two of whom were guillotined, while the third escaped to Savoy and found
refuge there in a convent of her order got on exceedingly ill in France.
If the sis demand Marquis had had plenty of money to expend in such feeble
imitations of his accustomed pleasures as were to be had out of Paris, he
would not have been much effected by the fate of his relatives. But money
became exceedingly scarce the Marquis had actually beheld many of his peers reduced to the
necessity of earning the despicable but indispensable article. After many ludicrous fashions and the
duration of this absurd upsetting of law, order, privilege and property began to
assume unexpected and very unpleasant proportions. The Chateau de Saintange, with its surrounding
lands, was confiscated to the nation during the third year of the emigration of
the Marquis de Saintange, and the greater part of the estate was purchased by
a thrifty, industrious and rich avoca named prosper Aliques, a widower with an
only daughter. Prosper Aliks enjoyed the esteem of the entire neighborhood. First he
was rich. Secondly, he was of a taciturn disposition and of a neutral
tint in politics. He had done well under the old regime, and he
was doing well under the new. Thank God or the Supreme Being, or
the First Cause or the Goddess Reason herself. For all, he would have
invoked d'egon, Mola or Cali, quite as readily as the Saints and the
Madonna, who had gone so utterly out of fashion of late. Nobody was
afraid to speak out before Prosperoliqu's. He was not a spy, and though
a cold hearted man, except in the instance of his only daughter, he
never harmed anybody. Very likely it was because he was the last person in
the vicinity whom anybody would have suspected of being applied to by the dispossessed family,
that the son of the marquise brother, a young man of promise,
of courage, of intellect, and of morals of decidedly a higher caliber than
those actually and traditionally imputed to the family, sought the aid of the new
possessor of the Chateau du Saintange, which had changed its old title for that
of the Maison Aliques. The father of Monsieur Paul du Saintange had perished in
the September massacres, his mother had been guillotined at Leon, and he who
had been saved by the interposition of a young comrade, whose father had,
in the wonderful rotations of the wheel of fate, acquired authority in the place
where he had once esteemed. The notice of the nephew of the marquis,
a crowning honor for his son had passed through the common vicissitudes of that dreadful
time, which would take a volume for their recital. In each individual instance.
Paualda Saintange was a handsome young fellow, frank, high spirited, and
of a brisk and happy temperament, which, however modified by the many misfortunes
he had undergone, was not permanently changed. He had plenty of capacity for
enjoyment in him still, and as his position was very isolated and his mind
had become enlightened on social and political matters to an extent in which the men
of his family would have discovered utter degradation and the women diabolical possession, he
would not have been very unhappy if under the new condition of things he could
have lived in his native country and gained an honest livelihood. But he could
not do that. He was too thoroughly suspect, the antecedents of his family
were too powerful against him. His only chance would have been to have gone
into the popular camp as an extreme violent partisan, to have ouherited the revolutionary
herons, and that Paul de Saintange was too honest to do so. He
was reduced to being thankful that he had escaped with his life, and to
watching for an opportunity of leaving France and gaining some country where the reign of
liberty, fraternity and equality was not quite so oppressive. The long looked for
opportunity at length offered itself, and Paul de Saintange was instructed by his uncle,
the Marquis, that he must contrive to reach Marseilles, whence he should
be transported to Spain, in which country the illustrious emigrant was then residing.
By a certain named date, his uncle's communication arrived safely, and the plan
proposed seemed secure and eligible. One only in two respects was it calculated to
make Paul du Saintange thoughtful. The first was that his uncle should take any
interest in the matter of his safety. The second, what could be the
nature of a certain deposit which the marquis letter directed him to procure, if
possible, from the Chateau de Saintange. The fact of this injunction explained in
some measure the first of the two difficulties. It was plain that, whatever
were the contents of this packet which he was to seek for, according to
the indications marked on a ground plan drawn by his uncle and enclosed in the
letter, the Marquis wanted them and could not procure them except by the agency
of his nephew. That the Marquis should venture to direct Paul du Saintange to
put himself in communication with prosper Aleiques would have been surprising to anyone acquainted only
with the external and generally understood features of the character of the new proprietor of
the Chateau de Saintange. But a few people knew prosper Eliks thoroughly, and
the Marquis was one of the number. He was keen enough to know in
theory that in the case of a man with only one weakness, that is
likely to be a very weak weakness indeed, and to apply the theory to
the Avoca, the beautiful pious, an aristocratic mother of Paul de saintange,
a lady to whose superiority the Marquis had rendered the distinguished testimony of his dislike,
not hesitating to avow that she was much too good for his taste,
had been very fond of and very kind to the motherless daughter of prosper Eliq's,
and he held her memory in reverence which he accorded to nothing beside human
or divine, and taught his daughter the matchless worth of the friend she had
lost. The Marquis knew this, and though he had little sympathy with the
sentiment, he believed he might use it in the present instance to his own
prophet was the event proved that he was right. Private negotiations, with the
manner of whose transaction we are not concerned, passed between the Avoca and the
Sie Devon. Marquis and the young man, then leading a life in which
Skulking had a large share in the vicinity of Dijon, was instructed to present
himself at the Maison Aliques under the designation of Ari Glaire and in the character
of an artist in house decoration. The circumstances of his life in childhood and
boyhood had led to his being almost safe from recognition as a man at Leon,
and indeed all the people on the Sie Devont visiting list of the chateau
have been pretty nearly killed off in the noble and patriotic ardor of the revolutionary
times. The ancient Chateau d Saintange was proudly placed near the summit of the
Holy Hill, and had suffered terrible depredations when the church at Fort Vierre was
sacked and the shrine desecrated with that ingenious impiety which is characteristic of the French,
but it still retained somewhat of its former heavy grandeur. The chateau was
much too large for the needs, tastes or ambition of its present owner,
who was too wise, if even he had been of an ostentatious disposition,
not to have sedulously resisted its promptings. The jealousy of the nation of brothers
was easily excited, and departure from simplicity and frugality was apt to be commented
upon by domiciliary visits and the eager imposition of fanciful finds that portion of the
vast building occupied by prosper aliques and the citoyenne berket. His daughter presented an
appearance of well to do comfort and modest ease, which contrasted with the grandiose
proportions and the elaborate decorations of the y corridors, huge flat staircases and lofty
panel departments. The Avoca and his daughter lived quietly in the old place,
hoping, after a general fashion, for better times, but not finding the
present very bad. The father becoming day by day more pleased with his bargain,
the daughter growing fonder of the great house and the noble bocage, of
the scrappy little vineyards, struggling for existence on the sunny hill side, and
the place where the famous shrine had been. They had done it much damage,
They had parted its riches among them. The once ever opened doors were
shut, and the worn flags were untrodden. But nothing could degrade it,
nothing could destroy what had been. In the mind of Bertaliques, who was
as devout as her father was, unconcernedly unbelieving. Bert was wonderfully well educated
for a French woman of that period, and surprisingly handsome for a French woman
of any not too tall to offend the taste of her compatriots, and not
too short to be dignified and graceful She had a symmetrical figure and a small,
well poised head, whose profuse, shining, silken, dark brown hair
she wore, as nature intended, in a shower of curls, never touched
by the hand of the coiffure, curls which clustered over her brow and fell
far down on her shapely neck. Her features were fine, the eyes very
dark and the mouth very red, the complexion clear and rather pale, and
the style of the face and expression lofty. When bert A Leeks was a
child, people were accustomed to say she was pretty and refined enough to belong
to the aristocracy. Nobody would have dared to say so. Now, prettiness
and refinement, together with all the other virtues, admitted to a place on
the patriotic roll, having become national property. Bert loved her father dearly.
She was deeply impressed with the sense of her supreme importance to him, and
fully comprehended that he would be influenced by and through her, when all other
persuasion or argument would be unavailing. When prosper Alix wished and intended to do
anything rather mean or selfish, he did it without letting Bert know. And
when he wished to leave undone, something which he knew his daughter would decide
ought to be done. He carefully concealed from her the existence of the dilemma.
Nevertheless, the system did not prevent the father and daughter being very good
and even confidential friends. Prosper Alix loved his daughter immeasurably and respected her more
than he respected anyone in the world. With regard to her persevering religiousness,
when such things were not only out of fashion and date, but illegal as
well, he was very tolerant. Of course, it was weak and an
absurdity. But every woman, even his beautiful incomparable Bert, was weak and
absurd on some point or other. And after all he had come to the
conclusion that safest weakness with which a woman can be afolot is that romantic and
ridiculous feblesse called piety. So these two lived a happy life together, their
share of it being very secluded, and were wonderfully little troubled by the turbulence
with which society was making its tumultuous way to the virtuous serenity of Republican perfection.
The communication announcing the project of the Sie de von Marquis for the secure
exportation of his nephew, and containing the skillful appeal before mentioned, grievously disturbed
the tranquility of Prosper, and was precisely one of those incidents which he would
especially have liked to conceal from his daughter. But he could not do so.
The appeal was too cleverly made, and utter indifference to it, utter
neglect of the letter, which naturally suggested itself as the easiest means of getting
rid of a difficulty, would have involved an act of direct and uncompromising dishonesty,
to which Prosper, though of sufficiently elastic conscience within the limit of professional
gains, could not contemplate. The Chateau de Saintange was indeed his own lawful
property, his, without prejudice to the former owners, dispossessed by no act
of his but the sied ofvonm Marquis, confiding in him to an extent which
was quite astonishing, except on the p l a theory which is so unflattering
as to be seldom accepted. And as to him, the existence of a
certain packet hidden in the chateau, acknowledging its value and urging the need of
its safe transmission, this was not his property. He hardly wished he had
never learned its existence, but wishing that was clearly of no use. Then
he wished the nephew of the siat of Arm might come soon and take himself
in the hidden wealth away with all possible speed. This latter was a more
realizable desire, and prosper settled his mind with it, communicated the interesting,
decidedly dangerous secret to Bert, received her worm sanction and transmitted to the Marquis
by the appointed means. An assurance that his wishes should be punctually carried out.
The absence of an interdiction of his visit before a certain date was to
be the signal to Monsieur Paul de Saintange that he was to proceed to act
upon his uncle's instructions. He waited the proper time, The reassuring silence was
maintained unbroken, and he ultimately set forth on his journey and accomplished it in
safety. Preparations had been made at the maisona Liiques for the reception of Monsieur
Claire, and his supposed occupation had been announced. The apartments were decorated in
a heavy gloomy style, and those of the Citoyenne in particular, they had
been occupied by a lady who had once been designated as Feu Madame la Marquise,
but who was referred to now as La Maire duci devant were much in
need of renovation. The alcove, for instance, was all that was least
gay and most far from simple. Thessyitoyenne would have all that changed. On
the morning of the day of the expected arrival, Bert said to her father,
it would seem as if the Marquis did not know the exact spot in
which the packet is deposited. Monsieur Paul's assumed character and plies the necessity for
a search. Monsieur enri Clair arrived at the Maisonelis, was fraternally received and
made acquainted with the spear of his operations. The young man had a good
deal of both ability and taste in the line he had assumed, and the
part was not difficult to play. Some days were judiciously allowed to pass before
the real object of the masquerade was pursued, and during that time cordial relations
established themselves between the Avocas and his guest. The young man was handsome,
elegant, engaging with all the external advantages and devoid of the vice's errors,
and hopelessly infatuated unscrupulousness of his class. Yet naturally quick intelligence and some real
knowledge and comprehension of life had been knocked in to him by the hard hitting
blows of faith. His face was like his mother's prosper Aliqu's thought, and
his mind and taste were of the very pattern which, in theory bait proved.
Baert a very unconventional French girl, who, though the new era of
purity, love for jee and disinterestedness, ought to do away with marriage by
Barter as one of its most notable reforms, and had been disenchanted by discovering
that the abolition of marriage altogether suited the taste of the incorruptible republic better might
like might even love this young man. She saw so few men, and
had no fancy for patriots. She would certainly be obstinate about it. If
she did chance to love him. This would be a nice state of affairs.
This would be a pleasant consequence of the confiding request of the sie Devon.
Prosper wished with all his heart for the arrival of the concerted signal which
should tell anreclare that he might fulfill the purpose of his sojourn at the Maison
Narlik's, and set forth for Marseilles. But the signal did not come,
and the days long, beautiful, sunny, soothing summer days went on.
The painting of the panels of the Citoyenne's apartment, which she vacated for that
purpose, progressed slowly, and Monsier pal de Saintange, guided by the ground
plan and aided by Bert, had discovered the spot in which the jewels of
Price, almost the last remnants of the princely wealth of the Saintange, had
been hidden by the Fame de Chambre, who had perished with her mistress,
having confided a general statement of the fact to a priest for transmission to the
Marquis, this spot had been ingeniously chosen. The sleeping apartment of the late
Marquis was extensive, lofty, and provided with an alcove of sufficiently large dimensions
to have formed in itself a handsome room. This space, containing a splendid
but gloomy bed on an estrade and hung with rich faded brocade, was divided
from the general extent of the apartment by a low railing of black oak.
Elaborately carved opening in the center, and with a flat, wide bar along
the top covered with crimson velvet. The curtains were contrived to hang from the
ceiling, and when let down inside the screen of railing, they matched the
draperies which closed before the great stone balcony at the opposite end of the room.
Since the Avocas daughter had occupied this palatial chamber, the curtains of the
alcove had never been drawn, and she had substituted for them a high folding
screen of black and gold Japanese pattern, also a relic of the grand old
times, which stood about six feet on the outside of the rails that shut
in her bed. The floor was of shining oak, testifying to the conscientious
and successful labors of successive generations of Routeur. And on the spot where the
railing of the alcove opened by a pretty quaint device, sundering the entwined arms
of a pair of very chubby cherubs, a square space in the floor was
also richly carved. The seekers soon reached the end of their search. A
little effort removed the square of carved oak, and underneath they found a casket,
evidently of old workmanship, richly wrought in silver, much tarnish, but
quite intact. It was agreed that this precious deposit should be replaced and the
car square laid down over it until the signal for his departure should reach Paul.
The little baggage, which under any circumstances he could have ventured to allow
himself in the dangerous journey he was to undertake, must be reduced so as
to admit of his carrying the casket without exciting suspicion. The finding of the
hidden treasure was not the first joint discovery made by the daughter of the Avocaque
and the son of the sie Divont. The cogitations of prosper Eleakus were very
wise, very reasonable, but they were a little tardy before he admitted the
possibility of mischief. The mischief was done. Each had found out that the
love of the other was indispensable to the happiness of life, and they had
exchanged confidences, assurances, protestations, and promises as freely, as fervently,
and as hopefully as if no such thing as a republic, one and indivisible,
with a keen scent and an unappeasable thirst for the blood of aristocrats existed.
They forgot all about liberty, fraternity, and equality. These egotistical,
narrow minded young people. They also forgot the care characteristic alternative to those unparalleled
blessings death. But Prosperolix did not forget any of these things, and his
consternation, his prevision of suffering for his beloved daughter were terrible when she told
him, with a simple, noble frankness which the grand down of the dead
and gone time of great ladies had rarely had a chance of exhibiting, that
she loved Monsieur Paul de Saintanche and intended to marry him when the better time
should come. Perhaps she meant when that alternative of death should be struck off
the sacred formula. Of course, she meant to marry him with the sanction
of her father, which she made no doubt she should receive. Prosperolyix was
in pitiable perplexity. He could not bear to terrify his daughter by a full
explanation of the danger she was incurring. He could not bear to delude her
with false hope. If this young man could be got away at once safely,
there was not much likelihood that he would ac never be able to return
to France, would bert kind for him, or would she forget him and
make a rational, sensible, rich republican marriage which would not imperil either her
reputation for pure patriotism or her father's. The latter would be the very best
thing that could possibly happen, and therefore it was decidedly unwise to calculate upon
it. But after all, it was possible, and prosper had not the
courage in such a strait to resist the hopeful promptings of a possibility. How
Ardently, he regretted that he had complied with the prayer of the Sie Devon.
When would the signal from Monsieur Paul's departure come. Prospero Leiks had made
many sacrifices, had exercised much self control for his daughter's sake, But he
had never sustained a more severe trial than this, never suffered more than he
did now under the strong necessity for hiding from her, his absolute conviction of
the impossibility of a happy result for this attachment, in that future to which
the lovers looked so fearlessly. He could not even make his anxiety an apprehension
known to Paul de Seinage, for he did not believe the young men had
sufficient strength of will to conceal anything so important from the keen and determined observation
of Bert. The expected signal was not given, and the lovers were incautious.
The seclusion of the Maison Aliqus had all the danger as well as all
the delight of solitude, and Paul dropped his disguise too much and too often.
The servants, few in number, were of the truest patriotic principles,
and to some of them, the denunciation of the citoyenne, whom they condescended
to serve because the sacred revolution had not yet made them as rich as he
would have been, a delightful duty, a sweet smelling sacrifice to be laid
on the altar of the country. They heard certain names and places mentioned.
They perceived many things which led them to believe that Ahri Clair was not an
industrial artist and pure patriot worthy of respect, but a wretched sie divant,
resorting to the dignity of labor to make up for the righteous destruction of every
other kind of dignity. One day, a gardener of less stoical virtue than
his fellows gave Prosperoliks a warning that the presence of a sie divont upon his
premises was suspected, and that he might be certain a domiciliary visit attended with
dangerous results to himself, would soon take place. Of course, the Avocad
did not commit himself by any avowal to this lukewarm patriot, but he casually
mentioned that anri Glair was about to take his leave. What was to be
done. He must not leave the neighborhood without receiving the instructions he was awaiting.
But he must leave the house and be supposed to have gone quite away
without any delay or hesitation. Prosper explained the facts to Barton, her lover,
and insisted on the necessity for an instant parting. Then the courage and
the readiness of the girl told there was no crime and very little trembling.
She was strong and helpful. You must go to Pichon's father, she said,
and remain there until the signal is given. Pichamp is a master mason,
Paul, she continued, turning to her lover, and his wife was
my nurse. They are avaricious people, but they are fond of me in
their way, and they will shelter you faithfully. Enough when they know that
my father will pay them handsomely. You must go at once, unseen by
the servants they are at supper. Fetch your valise and bring it to my
room. We will put the casket in it, and such of your things
as you must take out to make room for it. We can hide under
the plank. My father will go with you to Pichon's, and we will
communicate with you there as soon as it is safe. Paul followed her to
the large, gloomy room where the train, and they took the casket from
its hiding place. It was heavy, though not large, and an awkward
thing to pack away among linen in a small valise. They managed it,
however, and the brief preparation completed. The moment of parting arrived firmly and
eloquently, though in haste. There to shirt Paul of her changeless love and
faith, and promised him to wait for him for any length of time in
France if better days should be slow of coming, or to join him in
some foreign land if they were never to come. Her father was present,
full of compassion and misgiving. At length he said, come, Paul,
you must leave her. Every moment is of importance. The young man and
his betrothed were standing on the spot whence they had taken the casket. The
carved rail with the heavy curtains might have been the outer sanctuary of an altar,
and they bride and bridegroom before it with earnest, loving faces and cloud
hands. Farewell, Paul, said Berth. Promise me once more, in
this the moment of our parting, that you will come to me again if
you are alive, when the danger is past, whether I am living or
dead, Bert said Paul de Saint Age, strongly moved by some sudden,
inexplicable instinct, I will come to you again in a few more minutes.
Prosperoliks and his guest, who carried not without difficulty, the small but heavy
leather valise, had disappeared in the distance, and Bert was on her knees
before the predieu of the sie de von Marquise. Her face turned towards the
holy hill of Fourvieres. Pichamp Metre and his sons Garson Masson were well to
do people, rather morose, succeedingly avaricious, and of taciturn dispositions, but
they were not ill spoken of by their neighbors. They had amassed a good
deal of money in their time, and were just then engaged on a very
lucrative job. This was the construction of several of the steep descents by means
of stairs, straight and winding cut in the face of the couteau by which
pedestrians were enabled to descend into the town. Pi jan Pere was approprieterire as
well. His property was that which is now in the possession of Girodier Pharmacien
premier class, and which was destined to attain a sinister celebrity. During his
proprietorship. One of the straightest and steepest of the stairways had been cut close
to the teraire which the mason owned, and a massive wall destined to bound
the high road at the foot of the declivity was in course of construction.
When prosper league Saint Paul de Saintanche reached the abode of Pichon. The master
mason, with his sons and workmen, had just completed their day's work and
preparing to eat the supper served by the wife and mother, a tall,
gaunt woman who looked as if a more liberal scale of housekeeping would have done
her good. But on whose features the stamp of that devouring and degrading avarice,
which is the commonest vice of the French peasantry, was set as plainly
as on the hard faces of her husband and her sons. The avocat explained
his business and introduced his companion briefly, and awaited the reply of pichon Pere
without any appearance of inquietude. You don't run any risk, he said,
At least you don't run any risk which I cannot make it worth your while
to incur. It is not the first time you have received a temporary guest
on my recommendation. You know nothing about the citizen Glare, except that he
is recommended to you by me. I am responsible. You can, on
occasion make me so. The citizen may remain with you a short time.
Can hardly remain long, say, citizen. Is it agreed? I have
no time to spare? It was agreed, and prosperoleiks departed, leaving Monsieur
Paul de Saint Age, convinced that the right, indeed the only thing,
had been done, and yet much troubled and depressed. Pichampere was a short
squat, powerfully built man, verging on sixty, whose thick, dark grizzled
hair, sturdy limbs, and hard hands on which the muscles showed like cords,
spoke of endurance and strength. He was indeed noted in the neighborhood for
those qualities. His sons resembled him slightly, and each other closely, as
was natural, for they were twins. They were heavy, lumpish fellows,
and they made but an ungracious return to the attempted civilities of the stranger,
to whom the offer of their mother to show him his room was a decided
relief. As he rose to follow the woman, Paul de Saintange lifted his
small valise with difficulty from the floor on which he had placed it on entering
the house, and carried it out of the room in both his arms.
The brothers followed these movements with curiosity, and when the door closed behind their
mother and the stranger, their eyes met. Twenty four hours had passed away
and nothing new had occurred at the Maison Aliks. The servants had not expressed
any curiosity respecting the departure of the citizen Glare. No domiciliary visit had taken
place, and Baert and her father were discussing the propriety of Prosper's venturing on
the pretext of an excursion in another direction, a visit to the isolated and
quiet dwelling of the master Mason. No signal had yet arrived. It was
agreed that after the lapse of another day, if their tranquility remained undisturbed,
Prosperolik should visit Paul de saintanche. Bert, too, was silent and preoccupied,
retired to her own room early, and her father, who was uneasy
and apprehensive, desperately anxious for the promised communication from the Marquis, was relief
by her absence. The moon was high in the dark sky, and her
beams were flung across the polished oak floor of Berret's bedroom through the great window
with a stone balcony. When the girl, who had gone to sleep with
her lover's name upon her lips in prayer, awoke with a sudden start and
sat up in her bed. An unbearable dread was upon her, and yet
she was unable to utter a cry. She was unable to make another movement.
Had she heard a voice, No, No one had spoken, nor
did she fancy that she heard any sound. But within her, somewhere inside
her heaving bosom, something said bert and she listened and knew what it was.
And it spoke and said, I promised you that living or dead,
I will come to you again. And I have come to you, but
not living. She was quite awake, even in the agony of her fear.
She looked around and tried to move her hands, to feel her dress
and the bedclothes, and to fix her eyes on some familiar object that she
might satisfy herself before this racing and beating, this whirling and yet icy chilliness
of her blood should kill her outright. That she was really awake. I
have come too, but not living. What an awful thing that voice speaking
within her was. She tried to raise her head and to look towards the
place where the moonbeams marked bright lines upon the polished floor, which lost themselves
at the foot of the Japanese screen. She forced herself to this effort and
lifted her eyes, wild and haggard with fear, and there the moonbeams at
his feet, the tall black screen behind him, She saw Paul de saint
Age. She saw him. She looked at him quite steadily. She rose
slowly with a mechanical movement, and stood upright beside her bed, clasping her
forehead with her hands and gazing at him. He stood motionless in the dress
he had worn when he took leave of her, the light colored riding coat
of the period, with a short cape and a large white cravat tucked into
the double breast. The white muslin was flecked, and the front of the
riding coat was deeply stained with blood. He looked at her, and she
took a step forward another. Then, with a desperate effort, she dashed
open the railing and flung herself on her knees before him, with her arms
outstretched as if to clasp him. But he was no longer there. The
moonbeams fell clear and cold upon the polished floor and lost themselves where Baret lay
at the foot of the screen, her head upon the ground, and every
sign of life gone from her. Where's the citizen glare, asked prosper Leeks
of the Sia Toyenne Pichon, entering the house of the Master Mason abruptly with
a stern and threatening countenance. I have a message for him. I must
see him. I know nothing about him, replied the seatoyenne, without turning
in his direction or relaxing her culinary labors. He went away from here the
next morning, and I did not trouble myself to ask where that is his
affair? He went away without letting me know. Be careful, citoyenne.
This is a serious matter, so they tell me, said the woman with
a grin which was not altogether free from pain and fear. Were you a
serious thing to have a suspect in your house and palm him off on honest
people? However, he went away peacefully enough when he knew we had found
him out, and that we had no desire to go to prison, nor
worse on his account or yours. She was strangely insolent, this woman,
and the listener felt his helplessness. He had brought the young man there with
such secrecy he had so carefully provided for the success of concealment. Who carried
his valise. Prosper Aliques asked her suddenly, how should I know? She
replied, But her hands lost their steadiness, and she upset a stewpen.
He carried it here, didn't he? And I suppose he carried it away
again. Prosper Leeks looked at her steadily. She shunned his gaze, but
she showed no other sign of confusion. Then horror and disgust of the woman
came over him. I must see Pichamp, he said, Where is he?
Where should he be? But at the wall? He and the boys
are working there as always. The citizen can see them, but he will
remember not to detain them, And a little quarter of an hour the soup
will be ready. The citizen did see the master Mason and his sons,
and after an interview of some duration, he left the place in a state
of violent agitation and complete discomfiture. The master Mason had addressed to him these
words at parting. I assert that the man went away of his own free
will. But if you do not keep very quiet, I shall deny that
he came here at all. You cannot prove he did, and I will
denounce you for harboring a suspect and sie devon under a false name. I
know a du Saintnage. I see him as well as you, Citizen Alix,
and wishing Monsieur Paul a good journey. I hope you will consider about
this matter. For truly, my friend, I think you will sneeze in
the sack before I shall. We must bear it, Bert, my child,
said prosper Alyix to his daughter many weeks later, when the fever had
left her and she was able to talk with her father of the mysterious and
frightful events which had occurred. We are utterly helpless. There is no proof,
only the word of these wretches against mine, and certain destruction to me.
If I speak, we will go to Spain and tell the marquis all
the truth and never return if you would rather not. But for the rest
we must bear it. Yes, my father said Bert submissively. I know
we must, but God need not, and I don't believe he will.
The father and daughter left France unmolested and bare it, bore it as well
as she could. When better times came, they returned Rosperolix, an old
man and bare to stern, silent, handsome woman with whom no one associated
any notions of love or marriage. But long before their return, the traditions
of the Crois Rouss were enriched by circumstances which led to that before mentioned capital
bargain made by the father of the Girogier of the present. These circumstances were
the violent death of Pichon and his two sons, who were killed by the
fall of a portion of the Great Boundary Wall on the very day of its
completion, and the discovery close to its foundation at the extremity of Pichonp's terre,
of the corpse of a young man attired in a light colored riding coat
who had been stabbed through the heart. Bert to Lis lived alone in the
Chateau de Saintange under its restored name until she was a very old woman.
She lived long enough to see the golden figure on the summit of the holy
Hill, long enough to forget the bad old times, but not long enough
to forget or cease to mourn the lover who had kept his promise and come
back to her, the lover who rested in the earth which once covered the
bones of the martyrs, and who kept a place for her by his side.
She has filled that place for many years. You may see it when
you look down from the second gallery of the bell tower at Fourvier, following
the bend of the outstretched golden arm of Notre Dame. The chateaus pulled down
some years ago, and there is no trace of its former existence among the
vines. Good times and bad times, and again good times have come for
the Croiroufs, for Leon and for France since then. But the remembrance of
the treachery of Pichon and Sons, and of the retribution which at once exposed
and punished their crime outlives all changes. And once every year, on a
certain summer night, these ghostly figures are seen by any who have courage and
patience to watch for them, gliding along by the foot of the boundary wall,
two of them carrying a dangling corpse, and the other implements for mason's
work, and a small leather valise. Girodierre Farmacien has never seen these ghostly
figures, but he describes them with much minuteness, and only the esprit fout
of the Croix russ deny that the ghosts of Pichon and Sons are not yet
laid. Pichon and Sons of the Crois Russe