Volume III Part 28 (1/2)
”Here are orchestra stalls! honor to whom honor is due; in the first place the capitalist. Now let those who have paid seat themselves on the benches,” added Pique-Vinaigre, gayly, firmly believing that Germain had, thanks to him, no more danger to apprehend. ”And those who have not cashed up,” he added, ”will sit on the ground or stand up, as they choose.”
Let us glance at the arrangements as now completed.
Pique-Vinaigre, standing near the stove, was getting ready to commence his story. Near him, Skeleton is also standing, ready to spring on Germain the moment the keeper should leave the hall. Some distance from Germain, Nicholas, Barbillon, Cardillac, and some other prisoners, among whom was seen the man in the blue cotton cap and gray blouse, occupied the back benches. The larger number of the prisoners grouped here and there, some seated on the ground, others standing, and leaning against the walls, composed the background of this picture, lighted, after the manner of Rembrandt, by the three lateral windows, which cast a vivid light and deep shade on these figures, so differently characterized and so strongly marked.
The keeper who, without knowing it, was, by his departure, to give the signal for the murder of Germain, stood near the half-opened door.
”All ready!” said Pique-Vinaigre to Skeleton.
”Silence in the band” answered the latter, half-turning round; then, addressing Pique-Vinaigre, ”Now fire away! we listen.” A profound silence reigned in the sitting-room.
CHAPTER X.
GRINGALET AND CUT-IN-HALF.
Before we commence the recital of Pique-Vinaigre, we will recall to our readers that, by a strange contrast, the majority of the prisoners, notwithstanding their cynical perversity, almost always preferred artless stories (we will not say puerile), in which the oppressed, by the laws of an inexorable fatality, is revenged on his tyrant, after trials and difficulties without number. The thought is far from us, to establish the slightest parallel between corrupted beings and the honest and poor ma.s.ses; but is it not known with what frenzied applause the audience of minor theaters behold the deliverance of the victim, and with what curses they pursue the traitorous and the wicked? One ordinarily laughs at these rough evidences of sympathy for that which is good, weak, and persecuted; of aversion for that which is powerful, unjust, and cruel. It seems to us that to laugh at this is wrong. Nothing is more consoling than these feelings innately of the mult.i.tude. Is it not evident that these salutary instincts may become fixed principles in those unfortunate beings whom ignorance and poverty expose to the subversive attacks of evil? Why not have every hope of a people whose good moral sense is so invariably manifested? of a people who, in spite of the fascinations of art, will never permit a dramatic work to arrive at its denouement by the triumph of the wicked and the punishment of the just? This fact, scorned and laughed at though it be, appears to us of considerable importance on account of the tendencies which it proves, and which are even often found (we repeat it) among beings the most corrupt, when they are, so to speak, in repose, and sheltered from criminal temptations or necessities. In a word, since men hardened in crime still sometimes sympathize with the recital and expression of elevated sentiments, ought we not to believe that all men have more or less in them of the good, the well doing, the just, but that poverty and ignorance, in falsifying, in stifling these Divine instincts, are the first causes of human depravity?
Is it not evident that generally ones does not become wicked except through misfortune, and that to s.n.a.t.c.h man from the terrible temptations of warn by the equitable melioration of his material condition, is to make him capable of the virtues of which he is conscious? The impression caused by the story of Pique-Vinaigre will demonstrate, or rather display, we hope, some of the ideas we have just set forth. Pique-Yinaigre then commenced his story in these terms, in the midst of the profound silence of his audience. ”It is not very long since the events occurred which I am going to relate to this honorable society. Little Poland was not then destroyed. Does the honorable society know what was called Little Poland?”
”I remember,” said the prisoner in the blue cap and gray blouse, ”it was some small houses near the Rue du Rocher, and the Rue de la Pepiniere.”
”Exactly, pal,” replied Vinaigre; ”the city streets, which, however, are not full of palaces, would be lovely alongside of Little Poland, but, otherwise, a famous resort for our lot; there were no streets, but lanes; no houses, but hovels; no pavement, but a carpet of mud, so that the noise of carriages would not have incommoded you if any pa.s.sed; but none pa.s.sed.
From morning to night, and, above all, from night till morning, what one did not cease to hear, were cries, of '_watch_!' '_help_!' '_murder_!' but the watch did not disturb himself. The more with their brains dashed out in Little Poland--so many the less to be arrested!
”The swarming population, therein, you should have seen; very few jewelers, goldsmiths, or bankers lodged there! but to make amends, there were heaps of organ-players, rope-dancers, Punch-and-Judy-men, or keepers of curious beasts. Among the latter was one named Cut-'em-in-half, so cruel was he; above all, cruel toward children. They called him so, because, with a hatchet, he had cut in two a little Savoyard!”
At this part of the story the prison clock struck a quarter past three. The prisoners entering their sleeping apartments at four o'clock, the crime was to be consummated before that hour.
”Thousand thunders! the keeper does not go,” whispered the Skeleton to the Big Cripple.
”Be quiet; once the story started, he will leave.” Pique-Vinaigre continued his recital.
”No one knew whence Cut-in-half came; some said he was an Italian, others a gipsy, others a Turk, others an African; the old women called him a magician, although a magician in these days may appear fishy; as for me, I should be quite tempted to say the same as the old women. What makes this likely is, that he always had with him a great red ape called Gargousse, which was so cunning, and wicked, that one would have said he had Old Nick in him. By and by I shall speak again of Gargousse. As to Cut-'em-in-half, I am going to show him up; he had skin the color of a bootlining, hair as red as the hide of his ape, green eyes, and what makes me think with the old women that he was a magician, is, that he had a black tongue.”
”Black tongue?” said Barbillon.
”Black as ink!” answered Pique-Vinaigre.
”And how is that?”
”Because, before he was born, his mother had probably spoken of a negro,”
answered Pique-Vinaigre, with modest a.s.surance. ”To this ornament, Cut-in-half joined the trade of having I do not know how many tortoises, apes, guinea-pigs, white mice, foxes and marmots, with an equal number of little Savoyards.
”Every morning, the padrone distributed to each one his beast and a piece of black bread, and started them off, to beg for a sou or dance a Catalina.
Those who, at night, brought back less than fifteen sous were beaten, oh!
how they were beaten! so that they were heard to cry from one end of Little Poland to the other.
”I must tell you also that there was in Little Poland a man who was called the Alderman, because he was the longest resident of this quarter, and also the mayor, justice of the peace, or rather, of war, for it was in his court (he was a wine dealer) that they went to comb one another's heads when there was no other way to settle their disputes. Although quite old, the Alderman was strong as a Hercules, and very much feared; they swore only by him in Little Poland; when he said, 'It is good,' every one said, 'It is very good;' when he said, 'It is bad,' every one said, 'It is awful bad,'