Part 27

Jacques gave Sans-Souci one of his weapons; and he, with the pistol in one hand, and his stick in the other, rushed in the direction of the shrieks; he went up to the first floor, entered a room the door of which was broken down, and saw an old man on his knees, imploring the pity of a miscreant, while another miscreant laden with bags of money was preparing for flight. Sans-Souci discharged his pistol at Dufresne, who was on the point of striking Monsieur Gerval; the monster fell at the old man’s feet; his comrade threw down his bags and tried to escape; but Sans-Souci did not give him time; he overtook him on the stairway and dealt him such a lusty blow on the head that Lampin staggered, rolled down several stairs, struck his head against the wall, and expired, vomiting the most horrible imprecations.

“You are my savior! my liberator!” cried Monsieur Gerval; while Sans-Souci relieved him of the cords that bound him.

“It is true, my dear monsieur, that it was high time; but perhaps there are other brigands in your house, and I will complete my inspection.”

“I will go with you, I will go with you, monsieur,” said the old man; “I will be your guide. Alas! I do not see my faithful Dupré.”

At that moment they heard a pistol shot. Sans-Souci descended the stairs four at a time, and joined Jacques at the instant that he blew out the brains of one of the brigands who was trying to fly through Adeline’s room; while his comrades, being more prudent, escaped by the same road that Edouard had followed.

The report of firearms, the uproar and the shrieks had awakened Catherine and Lucas; but only in obedience to their master’s voice did they dare to leave their rooms. Then they went all together, with lights, to Adeline’s room. She was just recovering her senses and was gazing with renewed surprise at Jacques, who stood by her.

“My brother, my friend, have I found you too?” she said at last; “I do not know if it is a dream, but so many events have succeeded one another! Just now Edouard was with me.”

“Edouard! Come to yourself, be calm, my dear Adeline, and have no fear; the brigands are punished.”

Adeline made no reply but her eyes still sought her husband.

“Victory!” cried Sans-Souci; “I killed two of them, for my part.”

“We owe you our lives, gallant strangers,” said Monsieur Gerval, approaching Jacques; “how can I ever pay my debt to you?”

“You have evidently taken care of my sister and my niece,” Jacques answered the old man, “and I am still in your debt.”

“His sister! his niece!” exclaimed the good man and his servants.

“First of all, let us finish inspecting the house,” said Sans-Souci; “there may be some more of the scoundrels hidden in some corner.”

“But Dupré doesn’t appear! I am terribly afraid that he has fallen a victim to his zeal.”

“Let us put our friends in a place of safety, and go and look!”

Monsieur Gerval, Adeline, her daughter and Catherine were taken to a room of which the door was securely fastened, and where they had nothing to fear; then Jacques and Sans-Souci began to inspect the house, guided by Lucas, who trembled like a leaf, but dared not refuse to accompany them. The name of Edouard, which Adeline had pronounced, was an enigma to Jacques, who dared not harbor the suspicions that came to his mind. They examined every part of the house without finding anybody, except the body of the unfortunate Dupré in the attic; after making sure that there was no sign of life about him, Sans-Souci, aided by Lucas, took him down to the ground floor, where the faithful servant’s remains were destined to stay until the last rites should be performed over them.

While Sans-Souci and the gardener attended to this melancholy duty, Jacques entered Monsieur Gerval’s apartment. A low groaning came from one corner of the room. Dufresne was still alive; but the wound that he had received was mortal and the villain struggled in vain against death. Jacques put his lantern to the dying man’s face and an exclamation of surprise escaped him. Dufresne also recognized Edouard’s brother; a horrible smile animated his almost lifeless eyes; he mustered what little strength he had left, to speak for the last time.

“I am dying; but if you have killed all those who were with me, you have killed your brother. Tell his wife, tell that Adeline who despised me, that her husband, after escaping from the galleys, has become by my advice a robber and an assassin.”

Dufresne breathed his last after uttering these words, well content to have done someone an injury at the last moment of his life.

Jacques stood for some moments frozen with horror by the dead body of the man who had wrecked the happiness of his family. But, overcoming his dismay, he determined to make sure of the horrible truth; he descended the stairs, halted beside Lampin’s body and held the lantern to his face, shuddering with apprehension. It was not he! Jacques breathed a little more freely, and went down to the ground floor, where the man was whom he himself had killed; and although he was very sure that it was not his brother, he proceeded to satisfy himself beyond a doubt.

“Thank heaven!” he said after examining the brigand’s features, “my hand is not wet with my brother’s blood! He has escaped. God grant that we may never see him again! Let us forget a monster who dishonors us, and devote all our care to the two unfortunate creatures whom I have found again at last.”

But before returning to Adeline, Jacques carefully examined all the pockets of all the brigands, especially Dufresne’s, fearing that some paper relating to Edouard would be found upon them. He made sure that they had only weapons and money about them, and then in a more tranquil frame of mind returned to Adeline.

The occupants of the house had discovered with the most intense delight that the young woman had recovered her reason; and while a thorough search was being made in his house, Monsieur Gerval told Adeline how he had found her and taken care of her at Paris, then brought her to his estate in the country; and lastly, how long a time she had lived under his roof.

Adeline threw herself at her protector’s knees. She realized now all that she owed him, although honest Gerval, in his narrative, had spoken only of the pleasure it had given him to oblige her, passing lightly over all that he had done for her.

Adeline then inquired about the events of the preceding night. They told her that brigands had made their way into the house, and that except for the unexpected arrival of two travellers, one of whom appeared to be her brother, they would have been pillaged by the robbers.

She shuddered; she remembered how Edouard had appeared before her, his excitement, his terror at the appearance of the strangers; she dared not continue her questions, but she anxiously awaited Jacques’s return. He appeared at last.

“Some of the villains have escaped,” he said, approaching Adeline, upon whom he bestowed a glance of which she understood the meaning. “Those who were killed well deserve their fate.”

“Morbleu!” said Sans-Souci; “they all well deserve to be broken on the wheel! I have only one regret, and that is that any of them got away.”

“And my faithful Dupré,” said Monsieur Gerval; “you tell me nothing of him.”

“Alas, my dear monsieur, your old servant was, it seems, the first victim of those monsters; he is no more!”

“The villains! to murder an old man! Ah, me! if I had heeded his representations--poor Dupré, my imprudence was the cause of your death! I shall reproach myself for it always. This house has become hateful to me and I propose to leave it to-morrow!”

Monsieur Gerval shed tears over the fate of his old servant; Catherine mingled her tears with his, and one and all tried to console the good man, who blamed himself for the loss of his faithful companion.

The dawn surprised the inhabitants of the cottage in this situation. Monsieur Gerval consented to take a little rest, while Lucas went to notify the authorities of the neighboring village of the occurrences of the night. Catherine, by her master’s orders, made preparations for their departure, and Adeline promised the old man to tell him before long the story of her misfortunes.

Jacques found an opportunity to be alone with Adeline. She burned to question him, but dared not break the silence. He divined her grief, her tremor, her most secret thoughts.

“Dufresne is no more,” he said to her; “the scoundrel has at last received the reward of his crimes.”

“Dufresne? What, was Dufresne among those robbers? Unhappy creature that I am! there is no doubt that he had led him on to the last stages of crime; Edouard was----”

“Silence! never let this horrible secret be known to any but ourselves,” said Jacques in a low voice; “the miserable wretch has escaped; let him drag out his shameful existence in other lands; it is too late for him to repent, and his presence would be to me, yes, to yourself, the height of misery. Forget forever a man who did not deserve your love. Everything combines to make it your bounden duty. The affection which one retains for a creature so vile, so wretched, is a weakness, a cowardice, unworthy of a noble and generous heart; live for your daughter, for me, for all those who love you, and days of peace and happiness will dawn again for us.”

Adeline threw herself into Jacques’s arms and wiped away the tears that flowed from her eyes.

“My friend,” she said to him, “I will follow your advice, and you will be content with me.”

The peasants of the neighborhood, who had learned of the melancholy events that had happened in the house of their benefactor, hastened to see him; and the stone over Dupré’s grave indicated the deplorable way in which the faithful servant had met his end.

Monsieur Gerval at last inquired the name of his preserver.

“My name is Jacques, monsieur,” said he, “formerly a soldier, now a farm hand.”

“Jacques,” said the old man, “I bear the same name as you. I gave it also to my godson, a little rascal who would be about your age now, and whom I have sought in vain in Paris.”

Jacques looked with more attention at him whose life he had saved; he seemed to recognize in his venerable face the features of a person who had always manifested the most affectionate interest in him in his youth. A thousand memories thronged his mind; he could hardly find strength to ask the good man his name, to which he had paid no attention in the excitement of the events of the night.

“My name is Gerval,” said the old man, scrutinizing him in his turn with evident emotion; “I used to be in business, and I had a large factory in Paris.”

“Is it possible? You are Jacques Gerval, my godfather, whom I used to love so dearly?”

Jacques leaped on the neck of the old man, who embraced him affectionately and shed tears of pleasure at finding his dear godson; while all the witnesses of the scene wept in sympathy.

“Ten thousand squadrons! how people keep finding each other!” said Sans-Souci; “this is a recognition that I didn’t expect, by a long way, nor you either, comrade.”

“My dear Jacques,” said Monsieur Gerval, “I have looked for you in all directions; I was crazy with longing to see you again. Your escapade of long ago caused me much pain, for I was innocently the cause of it. The name of Jacques brought you ill luck, my poor godson; it had an influence over your whole life; your mother neglected you, your father dared not utter your name before her; I alone was kind to you, but that was not enough for your sensitive heart. You left your father’s roof, and I swore to make up for the injustice of your parents if I could ever find you again. Here you are at last! I recognize you perfectly now! These scars have not changed the expression of your features. We will not part again, Jacques; you must close my eyes; you are my child, my only heir; from this moment my fortune is yours; make use of it to confer blessings upon all those whom you love.”

Jacques embraced his old godfather once more; he could not credit his good fortune.

“Dear Adeline,” he said at last, “if I am rich, you shall never know want again; that is the sweetest pleasure that I shall owe to wealth.”

Adeline and Ermance were wrapped in the old man’s arms in turn.

“So they are your sister and your niece?” he said to Jacques; “are you married?”

“No,” he replied with some embarrassment; “they are my brother’s wife and daughter.”

“Your brother--why, that is so,--what has become of him?”

“He is no more. Alas! I no longer have a brother, and she has no husband.”

“I see that your tears are flowing again, my friends; I have unintentionally renewed your grief; forgive me; perhaps the memory of Edouard is painful to you; but I know nothing about your misfortunes; tell me of them, and then I will try to make you forget them.”

Jacques undertook to tell the old man a part of Adeline’s sorrows, but he did not make known the whole of his brother’s conduct, and Monsieur Gerval believed that Edouard had died at Paris in destitution, after abandoning his wife and child, and that it was the knowledge of her husband’s unhappy end that had disturbed Adeline’s reason.

The excellent old man felt more than ever inclined to love that young woman, a model for wives and mothers, and he was determined to become acquainted with the people at the farm, who had shown so much affection for Jacques and Adeline.

“That is very easy,” said Sans-Souci; “if you want to make them all happy, you must go to the farm. Sacrebleu! when they see madame and my comrade again, I am sure that Louise and Guillot will be happier than they would if their house was a château.”

“Let us go to the farm,” said honest Gerval; “let us all go there; the journey will do us good; it will divert my dear Adeline’s thoughts a little, and it will amuse her little Ermance. Jacques will be able to help in his turn the people who helped him in his need, and we, my poor Catherine, we will try, among the people at the farm, to think less of our old friend Dupré’s death.”

Monsieur Gerval’s plan made them all happy. Catherine was delighted to leave a house which reminded her of melancholy events, and in which she felt that she could never again sleep peacefully. Lucas asked his master’s permission to leave his garden, in order to be his servant; the old man consented and everybody prepared for departure.

The house in the Vosges was rented to peasants, who established an inn there, most acceptable to people who travelled through those mountains; Monsieur Gerval and his servants left the house, their hearts depressed by the memory of Dupré. Jacques and Adeline turned their eyes away from the spot which had witnessed Edouard’s infamy, and Sans-Souci looked back with pride at the apartment where he had saved an old man’s life and slain two villains.

XXXVIII

THE SMALL GATE IN THE GARDEN ONCE MORE

Sans-Souci rode beside the postilion, despite Monsieur Gerval’s request that he should take a seat in the carriage; but he was fully determined to act as scout, fearing mishaps on account of the deep ruts and the wretched roads. His joy was so great at the thought of returning to the farm with Madame Murville, that he was unwilling to depend upon any other than himself to avert such accidents as might happen to them on the way.

During the journey, Jacques told his old godfather of the adventures of his youth; the story of the philters and the magnetism amused honest Gerval and extorted a smile from Adeline.

“What happy chance brought you to our house so opportunely, with your brave companion, to save us from the knives of the robbers?” old Catherine asked Jacques.

“A few days after my dear Adeline’s departure,” said Jacques, “as she did not return to the farm, and as I feared, with good reason, that some unfortunate accident must have happened to her, I started off with Sans-Souci, determined to travel all over France if necessary, to find the mother and child. We went to Paris and stayed there several days, but all to no purpose; I could not learn anything as to the fate of those whom I sought. After going back to the farm to bid honest Guillot and his wife good-bye, we started off again, and we visited one after another all the provinces of France, stopping in the smallest towns, in the most modest hamlets, making the most minute inquiries everywhere, and always disappointed in our hopes. More than a year passed and our search had come to nothing. But Sans-Souci, whose good spirits never fail, sustained my courage and revived my hopes when he saw that my grief and my sadness increased. We at last turned our steps toward this province, with no expectation of being more fortunate here. After travelling through part of Franche-Comté, we entered the Vosges. As we were not afraid of robbers, we often travelled at night, and even more often slept on the ground, as we did not always find shelter on our road. Yesterday, however, the weather was so bad, and the snow had blocked the roads so completely, that we lost ourselves in the woods. I was numb with cold and almost exhausted, when Sans-Souci spied near at hand a fine looking house. I dared not ask hospitality, but Sans-Souci insisted upon stopping; and we were still disputing, when we heard shrieks inside the house; then we no longer hesitated, but I rang violently at the gate. Sans-Souci discovered an open window on the ground floor, from which the bars had been removed, and we jumped into the room. Imagine my surprise and my joy when I found there the woman whom I had been looking for so long, and whom I should have left behind forever, if your cry had not drawn me into the house.”

“My dear Jacques, it was surely Providence that sent you to our help,” said Monsieur Gerval; “but the greatest miracle of all is that that event has restored our dear Adeline’s reason.”

“Well, monsieur, didn’t I tell you so?” said Catherine; “all that was needed was a violent shock, a crisis; and that is just what has happened.”

The journey was made without accident, and they arrived at Guillot’s farm. Jacques was conscious of a pleasant thrill of emotion as he passed the fields in which he had worked.

“Yonder,” he said to good Monsieur Gerval, “is the plow with which I turned up this ground, so often wet with my sweat.”

“My friend,” replied the old man, “never forget it even in the lap of prosperity, and the unfortunate will never apply to you in vain.”

A carriage drawn by four horses is a great event in a country town. The villagers, the farm hands, left their work, and the people from the farm drew near with curiosity to look at the travellers; but Sans-Souci’s joy had made itself heard already; he cracked his whip in such a way as to make the chickens fly a league, while the pigeons took refuge on the tallest chimneys.

“It’s us, it’s him, it’s her!” he shouted, as soon as he caught sight of Louise and Guillot; “give us a big feast, my friends,--cabbage soup and the light white wine! death to the rabbits and chickens!”

The villagers surrounded the carriage; Jacques, Adeline and Ermance were embraced, caressed, and made much of by everybody. Louise wept, Guillot swore aloud in his joy, and the old man was deeply moved by the sincere affection which they all manifested for his children; for that was what he called Jacques, Adeline and her daughter; and they escorted him in triumph to the farm, where everything was soon turned topsy-turvy to celebrate the return of those whom they had not expected to see again.

Amid the joy, the confusion, and the preparations for the feast, Sans-Souci ran from one to another, tried to help everybody, broke plates, upset saucepans, and exclaimed at every instant:

“You don’t know all; Jacques is rich now, and this excellent old man is his godfather; we saved his life; we killed the rascals! I will tell you all about it.”

“I see,” said Guillot, “things seem to be going pretty well; but what about our friend Jacques’s brother?”

“Hush!” said Sans-Souci, putting his finger to his lips; “if you have the misfortune to speak of him, gayety will disappear, tears will come back, and your supper will be for the great Turk; so take my advice, and turn your tongue over for an hour in your mouth, rather than say another stupid word on that subject.”

“All right,” said Guillot, “I’ll chew my cud at the table before I speak.”

Life at the farm delighted Monsieur Gerval; he drove all about the neighborhood, admiring the charming sites and the fertile fields which surrounded him.

“Morgué, monsieur,” said Guillot, “if you knew how pretty it all is in summer! Bless my soul, you don’t see anything now! but if our fields are worth more, if our farm brings in more, we owe it all to our friend Jacques; in two years he did more and thought of more things than I could ever do in six; he’s worth three hands all by himself. It is a pity he’s rich now, for it robs me of a fine workman.”

“My dear Jacques,” said the old man, “you must love this country, these fields, which have witnessed your labors, and it would be cruel in me to take you away from here. We will settle in this neighborhood, my friend, and I leave it to you to purchase some suitable estate here-about; arrange it to suit yourself; I am too old to attend to business matters, and I rely upon you to make a wise choice.”

Jacques joyfully accepted the commission entrusted to him. He already had a plan in his head, and on the day following his arrival at the farm, impelled by a secret hope, he went early in the morning to Villeneuve-Saint-Georges. Trembling with emotion, he approached his father’s house, that spot for which he had always sighed. His dearest wish was to pass the rest of his life in that house, which recalled memories which were both pleasant and painful.

When he reached the gate, he saw a placard pasted on the wall; he read: “This house for sale or rent.”

“It’s ours!” he cried. “I am going to live again in the house where I passed my childhood; I ran away from it at fifteen years of age, I shall return to it at thirty; God grant that I may never leave it again! Adeline, I am sure, will be delighted to return to it; it was here, she told me, that she passed the happiest days of her life; even if this place does remind her of a man she loved too well, at all events when they lived here he was still worthy of her.”

Jacques rang at the gate; no one answered, but a neighbor advised him to go to the notary’s, which was almost opposite. The notary was the same man who had made the deeds for Edouard Murville four years before. The house, having fallen into the hands of creditors, had belonged to several owners in succession. The present owner almost never lived in it and was very desirous to get rid of it. Jacques inquired the price and promised to return the next day to conclude the bargain; he dared not do it without consulting Monsieur Gerval. He hastened back to the farm, and the old man saw by his pleased expression that he had found a house which suited him.

“You will recognize it,” said Jacques, “for you often went there in the old days; it is the house that belonged to my father.”

“And you didn’t conclude the bargain? Well! well! I see that I must go myself and settle the business.”

And the next morning the old man set out in his carriage with his dear godson. He drove to the notary’s and purchased the estate in the name of Jacques, knowing that he did not intend to bear any other name; but honest Gerval asked no explanation of that resolution, because he guessed a part of Edouard’s misconduct.

“Here, my boy,” he said to Jacques, as he handed him the deed; “it is high time that I should make you a present, to recompense you for having given you such a wretched name. This estate is yours, and my little Jacques is at home in the house from which his name caused him to run away long ago.”

Jacques embraced the old man, and they returned to the farm for Adeline and her daughter.