Volume II Part 16 (2/2)

Ferrand gave her for me; I suffered from this, and would have preferred another place, but the obligation of my father to my master prevented my leaving. It was now three months since he had lent the money; he continued to scold me before Mrs. Seraphin, yet he looked at me sometimes behind her back in such a manner as to embarra.s.s me, and he smiled in seeing me blush.”

”You comprehend, sir, 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 the porter on an errand; I remained in the house alone with my master; I was working in the ante-chamber; 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 the ante-chamber, and shut the door, holding it with all my strength; the key was on his side.”

”You understand, sir. You hear,” said Morel to Rudolph, ”the conduct of this worthy benefactor.”

”At the end of a few moments the door yielded to his efforts,”

continued Louise. ”I blew out the light--he called me. I made no answer. He then said, in a voice trembling with rage, 'If you resist, I will send your father to prison for the money he owes and cannot pay.' I begged him to have pity on me; promised to do everything I could to serve him, and show my grat.i.tude, but I declared nothing could induce me to degrade myself.”

”Yes; this is the language of Louise,” said Morel, ”of my Louise, when she had the right to be proud. But now? Continue--continue.”

”The next morning after this scene, in spite of the threats of my master, I came here and told my father all. He wished to make me leave the house at once--but there was the prison. The little that I earned was indispensable to the family, since the illness of my mother; and the bad character which M. Ferrand threatened to give me would prevent my seeking or obtaining another place for a long time, perhaps.”

”Yes,” said Morel, with great bitterness, ”we had the cowardice, the selfishness, to let our child return there. Oh! poverty, poverty! how many crimes it causes to be committed!”

”Alas! father! did you not try all means to obtain the money? That being impossible, we had to submit.”

”Go on, go on, continue. Your parents have been your executioners; we are guiltier than you are,” said the artisan, concealing his face in his hands.

”When I saw my master again,” said Louise, ”he acted toward me as usual, cross and harshly; he said not a word of the past; the housekeeper continued to torment me; she hardly gave me enough to eat, locked up the bread; sometimes, out of wickedness, she would defile the remains of the dinner before my eyes, for she always ate with Ferrand. At night I hardly slept. I feared at each moment to see the notary enter my room! He had taken away the drawers with which I had barricaded my door; there only remained a chair, a little table, and my trunk; I always retired to bed dressed. For some time he left me tranquil; he did not even look at me. I began to be at ease, thinking that he thought no more of me. One Sunday he allowed me to go out; I came to announce this good news to my parents. We were all very happy!

It is up to this moment you have known all. What remains to tell,” and the voice of Louise trembled, ”is frightful! I have always concealed it from you.”

”Oh, I was very sure of it--very sure that you concealed a secret from me,” cried Morel, with a kind of wandering, and a singular volubility of expression which astonished Rudolph. ”Your pallor and expression should have enlightened me. A hundred times I have spoken to your mother; but she always repelled me. Look at us well! look at us! To escape a prison, we leave our daughter at this monster's. And where does our child go to? To the dock! Because one is poor--yes--but the others--the others.” Then, stopping as if to collect his thoughts, Morel struck himself on the forehead, and cried, ”Stop, I do not know what I say. My head pains dreadfully. It seems to me I am drunk.” And he concealed his face in his hands.

Rudolph, not wis.h.i.+ng to let Louise see how much he was alarmed at the incoherent language of her father, said, gravely, ”You are not just, Morel; it was not for herself alone, but for her mother, for her children, for yourself, that your poor wife feared the consequences of Louise leaving the notary. Accuse no one. Let all the maledictions, all your hatred, fall on one man--this monster of hypocrisy, who placed a girl between dishonor and ruin; the death, perhaps, of her father and his family; on this master, who abused in an infamous manner his power as a master. But, patience; I have told you Providence often reserves for great crimes a surprising and frightful vengeance.”

The words of Rudolph were stamped with such force and conviction, in speaking of this providential vengeance, that Louise looked at him with surprise, almost with fear.

”Continue, my child,” said he: ”conceal nothing; this is more important than you think.”

”I began, then, to feel some security,” said Louise, ”when one night Ferrand and his housekeeper both went out, each their own way. They did not dine at home; I remained alone. As usual, they left me some bread and water, and wine. My work finished, I dined; and then, fearing to remain alone in the apartments, I went up to my own room, after having lighted M. Ferrand's lamp. When he went out at night no one waited for him. I began to sew, and, what was very unusual, by degrees, sleep overpowered me. Oh, father,” cried Louise, ”you will not believe me--you will accuse me of falsehood; and yet, on the corpse of my little sister, I swear I tell you the truth.”

”Explain yourself,” said Rudolph.

”Alas! sir, for seven months I sought in vain to explain to myself this frightful night. I have almost lost my reason in trying to explore this mystery.”

”Oh!” cried the artisan, ”what is she going to say?”

”Contrary to my custom, I fell asleep on my chair,” continued Louise.

”That is the last thing I recollect. Before--before--oh, father, pardon! I swear to you I am not culpable.”

”I believe you, I believe you; but speak!”

”I do not know how long I slept; when I awoke I was still in my chamber, but--”

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