Volume II Part 17 (1/2)
”Oh! the wretch, the wretch,” cried Rudolph. ”Do you know, Morel, what he gave her to drink?” The artisan looked at Rudolph, but made no reply. ”The housekeeper, his accomplice, had put in the drink of Louise a soporific--opium, without doubt; the strength, the senses of your child have been paralyzed for some hours; when she awoke from this lethargic sleep, the crime was committed.”
”Ah! now,” cried Louise, ”my misfortune is explained; you see, father, I am less guilty than I appear. Father, father! answer me!”
The look of the artisan was of a frightful vagueness.
Such horrible perversity could not be understood by so honest and simple-hearted a man. He could hardly comprehend the dreadful revelation. And, besides, it must be said, that for some moments his reason had deserted him; at each moment his ideas became more obscure; then he fell into that vacuity of thought which is to the mind what night is to the sight: formidable symptoms of mental alienation. Yet Morel answered, in a quick, dull, and a mournful tone, ”Oh! yes, it is very wicked, very wicked, wicked.”
And he fell back into his apathy. Rudolph looked at him with anxiety: he thought that the intensity of indignation began to be exhausted with him; the same as after violent griefs tears are often wanting.
Wis.h.i.+ng to terminate as soon as possible this sad conversation, Rudolph said to Louise:
”Courage, my child; finish unveiling this tissue of horrors.”
”Alas! sir, what you have heard is nothing as yet.”
”Ah! all precautions were taken to conceal his enormity!” said Rudolph.
”Yes, sir, and I was ruined. To all that he said to me I could find no answer. Ignorant what drink I had taken, I could not explain my long sleep. Appearances were against me. If I complained, every one would condemn me; it must be so, for to me all was an impenetrable mystery.”
CHAPTER III
THE CRIME
Rudolph remained confounded at the detestable villainy of Ferrand.
”Then,” said he to Louise, ”you did not dare to complain to your father of the odious conduct of the notary?”
”No, sir; I feared he would have thought me the accomplice instead of the victim; and besides, I feared that, in his anger, my father would forget that his liberty, the existence of his family, depended entirely upon my master.”
”And was his conduct less brutal toward you afterward?”
”No, sir. To drive away suspicion, when by chance he had the Cure of Bonne Nouvelle and his vicar to dinner, my master addressed me before them with severe reproaches; he prayed the Cure to admonish me; he said that sooner or later I should be lost; that my manners were too free with his clerks; that I was idle; that he kept me out of charity for my father, an honest man with a family, whom he had served. All this was false. I never saw the clerks; they were in a separate building from us.”
”And when you found yourself alone with M. Ferrand, how did he explain his conduct toward you before the Cure?
”He a.s.sured me that he joked. But the Cure took these accusations for serious; he told me severely that one must be doubly vicious to act thus in a holy house, where I had religious examples continually under my eyes. To that I did not know what to answer; I held down my head, blus.h.i.+ng. My silence, my confusion, turned still more against me; my life was such a burden that several times I was on the point of destroying myself; but I thought of my father, my mother, my brothers and sisters, whom I helped to support. I resigned myself; in the midst of my degradation I found a consolation--at least my father was saved from prison. A new misfortune overwhelmed me--I was _enceinte;_ I saw myself altogether lost. I do not know why, I had a presentiment that M. Ferrand, in learning an event which should have rendered him less cruel toward me, would increase his bad treatment; I was, however, far from supposing what would happen.”
Morel recovered from his momentary aberration, looked around him with astonishment, pa.s.sed his hand over his face, collected his thoughts, and said to his daughter, ”It seems to me I have forgotten myself for a moment--fatigue--sorrow. What did you say?”
”When M. Ferrand was informed of my situation--”
The artisan made a movement of despair. Rudolph calmed him with a look.
”Go on; I will listen to the end,” said Morel. ”Go on, go on.”
Louise resumed:--”I asked M. Ferrand by what means I could conceal my shame. Interrupting me with indignation, and a feigned surprise, he pretended not to understand me; he asked me if I were mad; frightened, I cried, 'But, my G.o.d, what do you wish to become of me now? If you have no pity on me, have at least some pity on your child!' 'What a horror!' cried he, raising his hands toward heaven. 'How, wretch! You have the audacity to accuse me of being corrupt enough to descend to a girl of your cla.s.s! you have effrontery enough to accuse me!--I, who have a hundred times repeated before the most respectable witnesses that you would be ruined, vile wanton. Leave my house this moment--I thrust you from my door.'”
Rudolph and Morel remained horror-struck; such atrocity overpowered them.
”Oh! I confess,” said Rudolph, ”this pa.s.ses all conception.”