THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS.
55
nient of indignation, perhaps legitimate, has made me
forget tnat this is neither the time nor place for such a
discussion. One word alone: the body of the child he
has lost is in tlie garret. I have offered my room to
this family, to spare them the sad sight of the corpse;
it is, then, probably in my chamber that you will find
the artisan and his daughter. I conjure you, Monsieur,
in the name of humanity, do not arrest Louise suddenly
in the midst of these misfortunes. Morel has gone
through so many shocks this night that his reason will
give way; his wife is also dangerously sick, sucii a blow
will kill her. If you will permit me, I'll ask you a fa-
vor. This is what I propose: The young girl who fol-
lows us with the portiere occupies a room adjoining
mine; I do not doubt but.that she will place it at your
disposal. You can at first send for Louise; then, if it
must be, for Morel, that his daughter may bid him fare-
well. You will at least spare a poor, sick, and infirm
mother a heart-rending scene." "If this can be ar-
ranged so, Monsieur, willingly." This conversation had
taken place in an under tone, while Rigolette and Ma-
dame Pipelet held themselves discreetly at some dis-
tance oft. Rodolphe descended, and said to the for-
mer, " My poor neighbor, I must ask another favor:
you must let me have your room at my disposal for an
hour." "As long as you please, M. Rodolphe. Y'ou
have my key. But, mon Dieu, what is the matter,
then?" " I will tell you directly. This is not all: you
must be kind enough to return to tho Templp. to teU
them to delay sending home our purchases for an
Hour." " Willingly, M. Rodolphe; but is there a new
misfortune happened to the Morels?"
" Alas! yes; you will only know it too soon."
" Come, my neighbor, I fly to the Temple. Mon
Dieul I who, thanks to you, thought them out of
trouble," said the grisette, and she descended rapidly
the stairs.
Rodolphe wished to spare Rigolette the sad spectacle
of the arrest of Louise. "My officer," said Madame
Pipelet, " since my prince of lodgers accompanies you,
I can go and find Alfred ? He alarms me ; he has hardly
recovered from his indisposition of—Cabrion."
"Go—go!" said the magistrate; and he remained
alone with Rodolphe. Both arrived on the landing-
place of the fourth, opposite tin? door of the room
where the artisan and his family were temporarily
placed.
Suddenly this door was opened. Louise, pale and
weeping, came out quickly. "Adieu! adieul my
father," cried she; "I will return—I must go now."
"Louise! my child, listen to me, then," answered
Morel, following his daughter, a.nd trying to detain her.
At the sight of Rodolphe and the magistrate, they re-
mained immovable.
"Ah! Monsieur, you, our savior," said the artisan,
recognizing Rodolphe ; " aid me, then, to prevent Louise
from going. I do not know what is the matter with
her, she makes me afraid; she wishes to go away. Is
it not so, Monsieur, that she must not return any more
to her master? Did you not say, ' Louise shall quit you
no more—this shall be your recompense.' Ohl at this
delightful promise, I avow it, for a moment I have for-
gotten the death of my poor little Adele; but to be
separated from you, Louise, never! never!" Rodolphe
felt himself overcome; he had not the strength to
utter a word. The officer said severely to Louise, " Do
you call yourself Louise Morel?" "Yes, Monsieur!"
answered the young girl, amazed. Rodolphe had
opened the chamber of Rigolette. ": You are Jerome
Morel, her father?" added tha magistrate, addressing
the artisan.
" Yes—Monsieur', but----¦"   " Enter there with your
daughter." And the magistrate pointed to the cham-
ber of Rigolette, where Rodolphe already was. Re-
assured by his presence, the artisan and Louise,
astonished and troubled, obeyed; the officer shut the
door, and said to Morel, with emotion, " I know your
honesty and misfortunes ; it is. then, with regret I in-
form you that, in the name'of the law, I come to
arrest your daughter." " All is discovered—I am lost!"
cried Louise, throwing herself in the arms of her
father.
"What do you say? what do you say?" said Morel,
stupefied. ."Are you mad? why lost? arrest you! why
arrest you? who will arrest you?" " I—in the name of
the law!" and the offiuer showed his scarf. "Oh! un-
fortunate! unfortunate that I am!" cried Louise, fall-
ing on her knees.
'How! in the name of the law?" said the artisan,
whose mind began to wander; " why arrest my daugh-
ter in the name of the law? I answer for Louise, I—she
is my daughter, my worthy daughter—is it not true,
Louise? How arrest you, when our guardian angel re-
stores you to us, to console us for the death of my
little Adele? Come now 1 It cannot be ! And, besides,
Monsieur, speaking with respect, only criminals are
arrested, do you understand—and Louise, my daughter,
is not a criminal. Very sure, do you see, my child,
this gentleman is mistaken. My name is Morel; there
are more Morels besides me. You are called Louise-
there are more of the same name. That's it, do you
see, Monsieur; there is a mistake!"
"Unfortunately, there is no mistake! Louise Morel,
say farewell to your father." "You carry away my
daughter, you!" cried, the workman, furious from
grief, and advancing towards the magistrate with a
threatening air. Rodolphe seized him by the arm, and
said, "Calm yourself, and hope ; your daughter shall
be returned to you—her innocence shall be proved; she
is doubtless not culpable." "Culpable of what? she
can be culpable of nothing—I would place my hand in
the fire that^-" Then recollecting the gold that
Louise had brought to pay the note, Morel cried, "But
This money! this money I Louise!" and he cast on his
daughter a terrible look. Louise understood it. "I
jjtealt" cried she, and the cheeks colored with generous
indignation, her tone of voice, her gesture, satisfied
her father.
"I knew itI" he cried. "Do you see, Monsieur-
she denies it—and never in her life has she lied. I
swear it to you. Ask every one who knows her, and
they will say the same. She liel ah! well! yes-she is
too proud for that; besides, the bill was paid by our
benefactor. This gold, she don't want it; she was
going to return it to the person who lent—is it not so,
L-unef"
" Your daughter is not accused of theft," said the
magistrate.
"But, mon Dieu! what is she accused of, then? I,
ner father, I swear that, whatever she is accused of,
™e is innocent; and in my life, also, I have never lied. "
(What good will it do to know what she is accused
of? said Rodolphe to him; "her innocence shall be
firoven—the person who intere-ts herself so much in
you will protect your daughter. Come, courage. This
time, again, Providence will not fail you. Embrace
your daughter—you will soon see her again." "Mon-
sieur, le Commissarie !' " cried Morel, without listening
to Rodolphe, " a daughter is not taken away from a
father without at least telling him of what she is ac-
cused! I wish to know all. Louise, will you speak?"
Your daughter is accused of—of infanticide," said
the   magistrate.     "I—I—do   not   comprehend —I —
you-----"   " Your daughter is accused of having killed
her child," said the officer, much overcome at this
scene. " But it is not yet proved that she has commit-
ted this crime."
" Oh, no, it is not so, Monsieur, it is not so," cried
Louise with force, and raising herself up. "Iswear to
you it was dead! It breathed no more; it was frozen;
I lost all consciousness: that is my crime. But to kill
my child, ohl never?" "Your child, wretch!" cried
Morel, raising his hands to Louise, as if he wished to
annihilate her with this gesture and terrible impreca-
tion. " Pardon, my father! pardon !" cried she. After
a moment of frightful silence, Morel went on with a
calmness still more frightful:
"Monsieur, takeaway this creature; she is not my
child."
He wished to go out; Louise threw herself at his
knees, which she embraced with both arms, and, with
face upward, frantic, and supplicating, she cried, " My
father! listen to xte only; listen to me!"
" Officer, take heraway, then; I abandon her to you,"
said the artisan, making every effort to disengage him-
self from the embraces of Louise.
"Listent© her!" said Rodolphe, stopping him; "do
not be now without pity. " " She 1 mon Dieu I mon Dieu i
—she!" repeated Morel, burying his face in his hands,
"she dishonored! oh! infamous 1 infamous!" "Audit
she is dishonored to save you?" whispered Rodolphe.
These words made a startling impression on Morel; he
looked at his weeping child, still kneeling at his feet ;
then interrogating her with a look impossible to de-
scribe, he cried in a hollow voice, his teeth grinding
with rage, "The notary?"
An answer came to the lips of Louise. Shewas about
to speak, but, on reflection, she stopped, bent her head,
and remained silent.
"But no—ho wished to imprison me this morning,"
continued Bforel; "itisnothe? oh! so much the bet-
ter 1 so much the better! she has no excuse for her
fault; I can curse her without remorse 1" "No! no!
do hot^curse me, mv father! to you I will tell all; to you
alone ; and you will see—you will see if I do not de-
serve your pardon." "Listen to her for the sake of
pity!" said Rodolphe. "What can she tell me? her in-
famy? it will soon be public; I will wait."
"Monsieurl" cried Louise, to the magistrate, "in
mercy let me say a few words to my father before leav-
ing him, perhaps forever. And before you also, our
savior, I will speak—but only before you and my
father."   "I consenti" said the magistrate.
"Will you, then, be insensible? will you refuse this
last consolation to your child?" asked Rodolphe. " If
you think you owe me some return for the favors I
have directed towards you, grant the prayer of your
daughter." After a moment of mournful silence, Mo-
rel answered, "Let us go 1" "Butwhere shall we go?"
asked Rodolphe; "your family is in the next room."
"Where shall we go?" cried the artisan, with bitter
irony; " where shall we go? up there—up there, in the
garret, alongside of the body of my child. The place
is well chosen for this confession—is it not? Come—
we will see if Louise will dare to lie in the sight of the
corpse of her sister. Come!" And Morel went out
precipitately, with a wild stare, without looking at
Louise.
" Monsieur!" whispered the officer to Rodolphe, " do
not prolong this interview. You said truly, his reason
will not sustain it; just now his looks was that of a
madman." "Alas! Monsieur, I fear, like you a terri-
ble and new misfortune; I will shorten as much as pos-
sible the touching ' adieux.' " And Rodolphe rejoined
the artisan and his daughter.
Chapter XVIII. —Confession.
Dark and gloomy spectacle !
In the middle of the garret, such as we have described
it, reposed, on the couch of the idiot, the corpse of the
little child. An old piece of sheet covered it. Ro-
dolphe, standing with his back to the wall, was pain-
fully affected. Morel, seated on his work-bench, his
head down, hands hanging, his looks fixed, wild, were
constantly fixed on the bed where reposed the remains
of the little Adele.
At this sight, the anger, the indignation of the arti-
san became weaker, and changed into a sadness of in-
expressible bitterness ; his energy abandoned him; he
sunk under this new blow. Louise, of mortal paleness,
felt her strength fail her. The revelation that she was
about to make frightened her. Yet she took trem-
blingly the hand of her father—that poor, thin hand,
deformed by excess of labor.
He did not withdraw it. Then his daughter, bursting
into tears, covered it with kisses, and soon felt it press
lightly against her lips. The anger of Morel had
ceased; his tears, for a longtime retained, flowed at
last. " My father ! if you knew-—if you knew how much
I am to be pitied." "Ohl stop; you see, this will be
the grief of all my life, Louise—of all my life," an-
swered the artisan, weeping. "You, Mon Dieu! you
in prison—on the criminal bench—you, so proud—when
you had the right to be so. No !" continued he, in a
new access of desperate grief, "noi I should prefer to
see you under the winding-sheet along side of your
little sistter." "And I also; I wish it were so," an-
swered Louise. " Hush, unfortunate child, you give
me pain. I was wrong to say that; I went too far.
Come, speak, but, in the name of God. tell the truth.
However frightful it maj- be, tell me all. If I hear it
from you it will appear less cruel to me. Speak ; alas !
our moments are counted; you are waited for. Oh!
the sad, sad parting, just Heaven!" " My father, I will
tell you all," said Louise, resolutely; "but promise
me, and you, our benefactor, promise also, not to re-
peat this to-any one. If he knew that I had spoken, do
you see—oh I you would be lost—lost like me ; for you
do not know the power and ferocity of this man."
"Ofwhatman?"   "Mymaster."   "The notary."
"Yes," said Louise, in a low tone, and looking around
her, as if she w-ere afraid of being overheard. " Com-
pose yourself," answered Rodolphe. "This man is
cruel and powerful; no matter; we will combat him.
Besides, if I reveal what you are about to tell us, it will
be only in your interest or in that of your father."
"And I also, Louise, if I speak, it will be to try to
save you. But what has he "done, this wicked man?"
"This is not all," said Louise, after a moment's reflec-
tion, " in this sad tale it will be questioned if some on»
who has rendered me a great service—who has been for
my father and for our family full of kindness—this
person was employed at M. Ferrand's when I went; 1
have sworn not to mention the name."
Rodolphe, thinking that,she meant Germain, said:
"If you mean Francois Germain, be easy; his seerej
will be kept by your father and myself."
Louise looked at Rodolphe with surprise. "You
know him?" said she. "How! the good and excellent
young man who lived here for three months, and waa
employed at the notary's when you went there?" said
Morel. " The first time you saw him here you ap-
peared not to know him." "That was agreed upon be-
tween us. He had grave reasons to conceal that ha
worked for M. Ferrand. It was I who told him of tho
chamber on the fourth story, knowing he would be a
good neighborfor you." " But," said Rodolphe, " who
placed your daughter with the notary?" " When my
wife was taken sick, I had said to Madame Burette, the
pawnbroker, who lives here, that Louise wished to go
to service to aid us. Madame Burette knew the house-
keeper of the notary ; she gave me a letter to her, iu
which she strongly recommended Louise. Cursed—
cursed be that letter; it has caused all our misfortunes.
So, Monsieur, this is the way my daughter went there."
"Although I am informed of some of the facts which
have caused the hatred of M. Ferrand towards vour
father," said Rodolphe to Louise, " I beg you will re-
late to me in a few words what passed between you and
the notary since you entered his service. This may
serve to defend you."
" During the first months of my stay at M. Ferrand'a
I had no reason to complain of him. I had much work
to do; tho housekeeper was often very rough towards
me; the house was gloomy; but I endured all with
patience; servitude is servitude, otherwise I should
have had other disagreements. M. Ferrand had a
stern look. He went to mass: he often received priests.
I did not mistrust him. At first he hardly looked at
me. He spoke very cross to me; above all, in tho
presence of strangers.
"Except the porter who lodged on the street, in tha
building where the office is, I was the only domestic
with Madame Séraphin, the housekeeper. Tbe build-
ing we occupied was an old isolated ruin, between tho
court and garden. My chamber was quite up to the
top. Very often I was afraid to remain alone all the
evening, either in the kitchen, which was underground,
or in my chamber. In the night, I sometimes thought
I heard extraordinary noises in the room, under mine,
which no one occupied, and where M. Germain alone
often came to work during the day. ï'wo of the win-
dows of this story were walled up, and one of the
doors, very thick, was strengthened with bars of iron.
The housekeeper told me afterward that M. FerranS
kept his strong box there.
" One night I had sat up very late to finish soma
mending, which was very urgent; I was about to go to
bed, when I heard some one walking very softly in th_
corridor at the end of which was my chamber; they
stopped at my door; at first I thought it was tha
housekeeper, but as she did not come in, it made mo
afraid; 1 dared not stir; I listened; no «ne stirred; I
was, however, sure there was some'one behind thé-
door: I asked twice who was there—no one answered.
More and more, alarmed, I pushed my commode against
the door, which had neither lock nor bolt. I stiU-
listened—nothing stirred: at the end of half an hour,
which appeared very long, I threw myself on my bed:
the night passed tranquilly. The next morning A
asked the housekeeper for permission to put a bolt on
my door, as there was no lock, relating to her my
fears of the last night; she answered that I had
dreamed, that I must speak to M. Ferrand about it;
at my demand he shrugged his shoulders, and told mo
I was a fool; I did not dare to say anything more.
" Some time after thishappened tbe affair of the dia-
mond. My father, almost desperate, knew not what
to do. I related his trouble to Madame Séraphin ; she an-
swered, ' Monsieur is so charitable, that perhaps he will
do something for your father.' That evening I w-aited
on table ; M. Ferrand said to me, bluntly, ' Your father
has need of thirteen hundred francs ; gp this night and
tell him to come to my office to-morrow; he shall have
the money. He is an honest man, and deserves that
one should interest himself for him.' At this act of
kindness I burst into tears; I did not know-how to thank
my master; he said to me, in his ordinary rough man-
ner, 'It is well, it is well; what I have done is very
simple. ' In the evening I came to tell the good news
to my father, and the next day——" " I had the money
against the bill at three months' date, accepted in
blank by me," said Morel. "I did like Louise; I wept
with gratitude ; I called him my benefactor, my savior.
Oh! he must needs have been very wicked to destroy
the gratitude and veneration I vowed to him."
"This precaution to make you sign a bill in blank, at
such a date that you could not pay it, did not awaken
your suspicions?'"' asked Rodolphe. "No, Monsieur; I
thought that the notary only took it for security; be-
sides, he told me I need not think of paying it under
two years; every three months it should be renewed
for the sake of being regular; yet, at the end of tho
first term, it was presented, and not being paid, he ob-
tained a judgment against me under another name;
but he told me not to be troubled, that it was an error
of his clerk." "He wished thus to have you in his
power," said Rodolphe.
" Alas 1 yes, Monsieur; for it wasfrom the date of this
judgment he began to----- But continue, Louise, con-
tinue. I do not know where I am. My head turns. I
shall become madl it is too much—too much!" Ro-
dolphe soothed him, and Louise continued: "Ire-
doubled my zeal to show my gratitude. The house-
keeper then held me in great aversion : she often placed
me in the wrong by not repeating the orders that M.
Ferrand gave her for me; 1 suffered from this, and
would have preferred another place; but the obliga-
tion of my father to my master prevented my leaving.
Itwas now three months since he had lent the money;
he continued to scold me before Madame Séraphin, yet
he looked at me sometimes, behind her back, in such a
manner as to embarrass me. and he smiled in seeing
me blush." "You comprehend, Monsieur, he was
then about to obtain a judgment against me." " One
day," continued Louise, "the housekeeper went out
after dinner, as was her custom; the clerks had left
the office; they lodged elsewhere. M. Ferrand sent th»
porter on an errand; I remained inthe house alone
with my master; I was working in the ante-chambev;
he rang'for me. I entered his room: he was standing
before the fireplace; I drew near; he turned quickly
and took me by the arm.   I was alarmed.   I ran into