Volume II Part 42 (1/2)
”Besides, another circ.u.mstance has strengthened my suspicions. Last night, as I made my inspection, I drew near the Goualeuse's bed; she slept profoundly; her face was calm and serene; her thick flaxen hair, half escaping from under her cap, fell in profusion on her neck and shoulders. She had her small hands clasped over her bosom, as if she had fallen asleep while in the act of prayer. I contemplated with compa.s.sion this angelic countenance, when, in a low voice, and in a tone at once respectful, sorrowful and endearing, she p.r.o.nounced a name.”
”And this name?”
After a moment's silence, Madame Armand said gravely, ”Although I consider as sacred that which one hears another express in their sleep, you interest yourself so generously in this unfortunate, madame, that I can confide to you this secret. The name was Rudolph.”
”Rudolph!” cried Madame d'Harville, thinking of the prince. Then, reflecting that, after all, the Grand Duke of Gerolstein could have no connection with the Rudolph of poor Goualeuse, she said to the inspectress, who seemed astonished at her exclamation, ”This name surprised me, madame, for by a singular chance, one of my relations bears it also; but all you have told me of the Goualeuse interests me more and more. Can I not see her to-day? Now?”
”Yes, madame, I will go, if you wish, to find her, I can also ask about Louise Morel, who is in the other part of the prison.”
”I shall be much obliged,” answered Madame d'Harville, and she remained alone.
”It is singular,” said she; ”I cannot account for the strange impression which the name of Rudolph caused me. Truly, I am mad!
between _him_ and such a creature, what relations can exist?”
Then, after a pause, she added, ”He was right! how much all this interests me! the mind, the heart, expand when they are applied to such n.o.ble occupations! As he says, it seems as if one partic.i.p.ated in the power of Providence, when relieving those who are deserving. And these excursions in a world of whose existence we have no suspicion are so interesting, so _amusing_, as _he_ was pleased to say! What romance could give me such touching emotions, excite to this point my curiosity! This poor Goualeuse, for example, inspires me with profound pity, and this unfortunate daughter of the artisan, whom the prince had so generously relieved in my name! Poor people! their frightful misery served as a pretext to save me. I have escaped shame, death, perhaps, by a hypocritical falsehood; this deceit oppresses me; but I will expiate it by force of benefactions. This will be easy! it is so sweet to follow the n.o.ble counsels of Rudolph, it is rather to love than to obey him! Oh! I feel it--I know it. I experience a sweet delight in acting through him; for I love him. Oh, yes, I love him!
yet he will be for ever ignorant of this eternal pa.s.sion of my life.”
While Madame d'Harville awaits the Goualeuse, we will return to the prison-yard.
CHAPTER XV.
WOLF AND LAMB.
Fleur-de-Marie, the Songstress, wore the blue dress and black cap of the prisoners; but even in this common costume she was charming. Yet since she was carried off from the farm of Bouqueval, her features were much altered; her natural paleness, slightly tinted with rose, was now as dead as the whitest alabaster; her expression had also changed; it had now a.s.sumed a kind of dignified sadness.
Fleur-de-Marie knew that to endure courageously the grievous sacrifices of expiation is almost to obtain a kind of regeneration.
”Ask their pardon for me, La Goualeuse,” said Mont Saint Jean. ”See how they drag in the dirt all that I had collected with so much trouble; what good can it do them?”
Fleur-de-Marie did not say a word, but she began actively to collect, one by one, from under the feet of the prisoners, all the rags she could find. One of the prisoners retaining mischievously under her foot a piece of coa.r.s.e muslin, Fleur-de-Marie, stooping, raised her enchanting face toward this woman, and said, in her sweet voice, ”I beg you to let me take this, in the name of the poor weeping woman.”
The prisoner withdrew her foot. The muslin was saved, as well as all the other rags, which the Goualeuse secured piece by piece. There remained only one little cap, which two of them were contending for, laughing.
Fleur-de-Marie said to them, ”Come, be good now, and give her that little cap.”
”My eye! is it for a baby harlequin, this cap? Made of gray stuff, with peaks of green and black fustian, and a bedtick lining!” This description of the cap was received with shouts of laughter.
”Laugh at it as much as you please, but give it to me,” said Mont Saint Jean; ”don't drag it in the gutter, as you did the rest. I beg your pardon, La Goualeuse, for having made you soil your hands for me,” added she, in a grateful voice.
”Give me the harlequin cap,” said La Louve, who caught it, and shook it in the air as a trophy.
”I entreat you to give it to me,” said La Goualeuse.
”No; because you will give it to Mont Saint Jean.”
”Certainly!”
”Ah! bah! such a f.a.g! it's not worth the trouble.”
”It is because Mont Saint Jean has nothing but rags to dress her child with that you should have pity on her, La Louve,” said Fleur-de-Marie, sadly, extending her hand toward the cap.