Chapter 12

Burning with rage the Slasher returned to the charge, whereupon the defender of La Goualeuse showered upon the cut-throat's head a succession of blows so weighty and crushing and so completely out of the French mode of fighting that the Slasher was mentally as well as bodily stunned by them and gave up, muttering, "I'm floored. Except the Skeleton with his iron bones and the Schoolmaster, no one till now could brag of having set his foot on my neck."

"Well, come and drink a glass and you shall know who I am," said the Unknown. "Come, don't nurse a grudge against me."

"Bear malice? Not a bit of it! You're best man, make no mistake!"

The three, now upon the best terms, directed their steps towards a tavern. As the Unknown followed his companions a charcoal-seller approached him and whispered in German, "Be on your guard, _Your Highness_!" The Unknown waved his hand carelessly and entered the tavern.

Over their drinks the three related to each other their histories.

The Slasher was a man of tall stature, with light hair and enormous red whiskers. Notwithstanding his terrible surname his features expressed rather brutal hardihood and unconquerable boldness, than ferocity. In his childhood he had strolled about with an old rag and bone picker, who almost knocked the life out of him. He had never known his parents. His first employment was to help knockers cut horses' throats at Montfauçon till cutting and slashing became a rage with him and he was turned out of the slaughter-house for spoiling the hides. Later he enlisted and served three years. Then one day the bullying of the sergeant roused the old rage and he turned on him and cut and slashed as if he had been in the slaughter-house. That got him fifteen years in the hulks. Now he was a lighterman on the Seine rafts.

Sweet-Throat was not over sixteen and a half. A forehead of the whitest surmounted a face perfectly oval and of angelic expression, such as we see in Raphael's beauties. She was also called "Fleur-de-Marie," doubtless on account of the maiden purity of her countenance. She, too, had never known her parents. When she was about seven years of age she lived with an old and one-eyed woman, called Screech-Owl because her hooked nose and round green eye made her resemble an owl that had lost its eye. She taunted the child with being picked up from the streets and sent her out begging, rewarding her with beatings if she did not bring her at least six pence at night, until at last she ran away from Screech-Owl and hid in a wood-yard for the night. Next day she was found, taken before a magistrate and sent to a reformatory as a vagrant until she was sixteen. It was a perfect paradise compared to Screech-Owl's miserable roost. But when she came out she fell into the hands of the Ogress who kept the inn they were now in. The clothes she stood in belonged to the Ogress, she owed her for board and lodgings and could not stir from her or she must be taken up as a thief.

Rudolph (for so we shall call the defender of La Goualeuse) listened with deep interest to her recital, made with touching frankness. Misery, destitution, ignorance of the world, had destroyed this wretched girl, cast alone and unprotected on the immensity of Paris. He involuntarily thought of a beloved child whom he had lost, who had died at six, and would have been, had she lived, like Fleur-de-Marie, sixteen and a half years old.

Rudolph appeared to be about thirty-six, tall, graceful, of a contemplative air, yet with a haughty and imperious carriage of the head. In other respects he sported with ease the language and manners which gave him a perfect resemblance to the Ogress's other guests. He represented himself as a painter of fans.

Presently the Schoolmaster entered the inn, with a woman. He was a powerful, fleshy fellow with a face mutilated and scarred in a most horribly repugnant fashion. The woman was old and her green eye, hooked nose, and countenance, at once reminded Rudolph of the horrible woman of whom Goualeuse had been the victim. Suddenly seizing his arm, Goualeuse whispered "Oh! The Owl! The one-eyed woman!"

At this moment the Schoolmaster approached the table and said to Rudolph "If you don't hand the wench over to me, I'll smash you."

"For the love of heaven, defend me," cried Goualeuse to Rudolph.

He rose and was about to attack the Schoolmaster when the charcoal-dealer rushed into the inn, and coming up to him whispered in German, "Your Highness, the countess and her brother are at the end of the street."

At these words, Rudolph threw a louis on the counter and hurried towards the door. The Schoolmaster attempted to stop him but fell heavily under two or three blows straight from the shoulder.

Soon after he had gone two strangers entered, one in a military frock-coat, the other easily detected as a woman in male attire. She was the Countess Sarah Macgregor. They ordered drinks and proceeded to make inquiries after Rudolph. When they left, the Schoolmaster and the Screech-Owl followed them and robbed them in a dark street. But they suffered the robbery quietly and even offered the ruffian and his woman more to lay a trap for M. Rudolph. They parted, but an invisible witness--the Slasher--had been present. Alarmed at the perils which threatened his new friend, he resolved to warn him.

_II_

On the morrow Rudolph again made his way to the tavern and met the Ogress, with whom he had a short conversation which resulted in his paying La Goualeuse's debts to the old hag and taking the girl for a drive in the country. They spent the day roaming about the fields. Towards evening the carriage stopped at a farm near a pretty village and to her amazed delight Rudolph told Fleur-de-Marie that she might stay there with Mrs. George, the mistress of the farm. He explained his sympathy for her in the loss of the child who would have been her age.

Fleur-de-Marie could not reply. She seized his hand, and before he could prevent her, raised it to her lips with an air of modest submission; then she followed Mrs. George, who was to play the character of her aunt.

Before he left, Rudolph said to Mrs. George, "Marie will at least find a corner in your heart?"

"Yes, I shall devote my time to her as I should be giving it to _him_," she said with emotion.

"Come, do not be again discouraged. If our search has been unsuccessful hitherto, perhaps--"

"May the good God help you, M. Rudolph. My son would now be twenty. His father would never reveal whether he lives. Since he was condemned to the galleys, entreaties, prayers and letters have all been unanswered."

The next day Rudolph heard from the Slasher of the plot against him and arranged to meet the Schoolmaster on the pretext of having a profitable business on hand. The prospect of gain overcame the Schoolmaster's suspicions and he and Screech-Owl met Rudolph in an inn. Rudolph unfolded his scheme of entering a house in the Allee des Veuves, the residence of a doctor gone into the country. The Schoolmaster agreed, but insisted on their remaining together till the evening. On leaving the inn Rudolph dropped a note, which he saw picked up by the pseudo-charcoal-dealer, now attired as a gentleman.

The three retired to an inn of evil appearance, while Screech-Owl went out to reconnoitre the house and grounds. She returned to the inn with a favourable report. Suddenly the Schoolmaster threw himself on Rudolph and hurled him into the cellar, locking the door behind him.

Rudolph's efforts to free himself were in vain. For hours he lay there, gasping for breath. Suddenly, when he was about to suffocate, the door was broken open, and he found himself fainting in the arms of the Slasher.

When Rudolph recovered consciousness he was in his house, attended by his doctor, a negro and the Slasher.

The Schoolmaster and the Screech-Owl had come to enter the house. The Screech-Owl had remained at the gate to watch, but the Slasher, who had observed all, had silenced her with a blow. Following the Schoolmaster in, he came upon him as he was overcoming one of Rudolph's men and downed him with another blow. Then the two robbers, being bound, were carried in.

"Order them to bring him here," said Rudolph calmly, and the Schoolmaster was carried in, bound with ropes. Rudolph addressed him.

"Escaped from the hulks, to which you were sentenced for life, you are the husband of Mrs. George. What have you done with her son?"

Believing his hour was come he trembled and whimpered "mercy." He confessed all, even his crimes, his murders, speaking now in the grammatical French of his guiltless days.

"He lived in the Rue du Temple, where he passed as François Germain. He left there; now I do not know where he is."

"Good; your life shall be spared. But I will paralyse the strength you have criminally abused. Doctor David, do as I have told you."

The Schoolmaster was seized by two servants and carried into another room. A few minutes later he was brought back.

"You are free," said Rudolph. "Go and repent. Here are five thousand francs. You are harmless."

The two men loosened the cords which bound him, then took a bandage from his eyes. He sprang up in rage and terror; then falling back, cried in agony and fury, "I am blind!"

_III_

Rudolph was the reigning Duke of the German State of Gerolstein. While he was a boy a Scotch adventuress, Lady Sarah MacGregor, and her brother, Sir Thomas Seyton, had appeared in the little German court and begun an intrigue that resulted in a secret marriage between Sarah and Rudolph. The old duke, then alive, on hearing of this annulled the marriage. To his son he gave a letter from Sarah to her brother, betraying her cold-blooded ambitions. The young prince's love had frozen. Sarah gave birth to a child in England, whither she had fled. To all Rudolph's appeals for this child she gave no answer. She had turned it over to Jacques Ferrand, a notary in Paris. Six years later he reported the child's death, and both parents believed their unhappy daughter to be dead, though she was, in fact, the unfortunate Fleur-de-Marie.

It was Sarah who now, having learned of Rudolph's presence in Paris, had hurried hither to seek an interview with him, hoping to effect a reconciliation, now that the old Grand Duke was dead and Rudolph sovereign Prince of Gerolstein. Rudolph was known for his fondness for strange adventures, and Lady Sarah had hoped to catch him during one of his visits to the lower quarters of the city, seeking any aid, however low.

Rudolph, grateful to the Slasher for saving his life, presented him with an estate in Algiers; and the following day he set out for Algeria.

Rudolph was determined to find the son of Mrs. George, the unfortunate wife of the Schoolmaster. He had saved her from starvation and he meant to satisfy the great longing that still possessed her, but for some while he had no real success.

Meanwhile, unknown to Rudolph, a misfortune had come to Fleur-de-Marie. While on a visit to a neighbouring farm one evening she was suddenly seized by Screech-Owl and the blind Schoolmaster and carried off to Paris. They forced an oath of secrecy from her and liberated her near a police station. Screech-Owl then informed the police that a vagrant had passed down the street, and Fleur-de-Marie was arrested and sent to St Lazare. A forged note was sent to Mrs. George, appearing to be signed by Rudolph. Fleur-de-Marie's abduction had been caused by Sarah, who, believing Rudolph too much interested in her, decided to rid herself of a possible rival. Screech-Owl was her tool.

Rudolph learned of Germain's address through a second-hand dealer who had bought his furniture. He was employed as cashier in the office of a notary, Jacques Ferrand. Rudolph had heard evil reports of this man, though he was highly respected and known as a pious man. When Rudolph finally attempted to communicate with Germain he learned that the young man had been accused of theft from notary Ferrand and imprisoned.

Screech-Owl conceived of a scheme to blackmail the notary Ferrand. His housekeeper, ten years before, had turned over to her a child which she was to care for in consideration of one thousand francs. She obtained an interview with Ferrand, but he denied all knowledge of the child.

Ferrand was, in fact, thoroughly frightened. He learned that Fleur-de-Marie was in St. Lazare, and determined to paralyse Screech-Owl's threats by removing Fleur-de-Marie.

On an island in the Seine lived a criminal family, the Martials, who throve by thieving and murder. With Nicholas Martial, Ferrand arranged that Marie was to be conducted across the river and upset. His housekeeper met the girl at the prison door after the notary had procured her release and, pretending she had come from Mrs. George, brought her down to the river.

Once on the shore, the old woman signalled, and two boats came from the island. Fleur-de-Marie felt an instinctive uneasiness on beholding the foul face of Nicholas Martial. But she seated herself in the boat with the old woman, and they shot out into the stream.

Half an hour later two gentlemen strolling along the opposite river-bank saw the body of a young girl floating by and rescued it. One was a doctor. Discovering signs of life, he set to work and presently a faint glow of vitality revived. Then she was carried to his home.

That same night Screech-Owl appeared at the home of Countess Sarah, keeping an appointment. Lady Sarah took the creature into her private room and locked the door, leaving open only the passage from the garden whence they had entered.

"Listen," said the Countess, "I want you to find me a girl of about seventeen, one who has lost her parents very early, of agreeable face, and a sweet temper."

Screech-Owl showed her astonishment.

"My little lady, have you forgotten La Goualeuse?"

"I have nothing to do with her," said Lady Sarah impatiently.

"But listen a moment. Take La Goualeuse; she was only six years old when Jacques Ferrand gave her to me, with a thousand francs, to get rid of her."

"Jacques Ferrand!" cried Sarah, "the notary?"

"Yes, what of it?"

"Ten years ago? Fair? With blue eyes?

"Yes."

"Ah, Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" cried Sarah, falling on her knees. Suddenly she rose. Hastily opening a secretary, she took from it an ebony casket, which she opened. She took from it diamond necklaces and bracelets, throwing them on the table in her hurry to reach the bottom.

"Is this she?" she cried, producing a small miniature.

"Yes."

Sarah took out paper and pen and began writing.

"Come," she said, "as you dictate, so I write. A written declaration--"

She did not finish. Screech-Owl brought down her arm and her dagger entered Sarah's back between the shoulder-blades. She threw out her hands and fell forward on the table.

Hastily gathering the jewels, the murderess slipped through the door into the garden and escaped into the dark streets.

That night the police made one of the most notable hauls of the year; they captured a group of notorious criminals in the act of murdering a diamond-agent in a low-class resort on the banks of the Seine, among them all the Martial family. In the cellar they found the blind Schoolmaster chained to a pillar. He had been confined there by his former comrades, who feared that in his helpless state he might fall under the care of honest people and reveal to them the habits of his associates. He was mad; in his arms he gripped, almost crushed, the dead and mangled body of Screech-Owl, who, seeking to escape down the cellar, had stumbled within the captive's reach.

_IV_

For some days Jacques Ferrand's clerks noticed in the notary a curious change. He denied admission to his clients, though they knew his interests suffered heavily thereby. His face thinned, his temples hollowed, his complexion became ghastly yellow. In constant company with him was a red-bearded man, known as Brodamonte.

Then came the announcement that Germain had been freed from prison, the charges against him being dropped. Also that Monsieur Ferrand gave a million francs to found a workingmen's bank where the poor could borrow without paying interest. Germain was to be cashier.

Ferrand's sufferings were intense. Brodamonte, discovered in a criminal act by Rudolph, was now his slave, and acted as his agent. Both were watched by a well-concealed circle of spies. Brodamonte forced Ferrand's system of restitution, under Rudolph's directions, who had succeeded in obtaining from the notary by a trick papers which proved his crimes and guilt. This was his punishment. A miser, he must give; and, always a pious fraud, he was now compelled to place all his money in trust with the good, simple old abbé he had long deceived.

By chance Rudolph now learned of the absence of the girl and the deception that had caused Madame George to make no inquiries. He suspected truly that La Goualeuse's abduction had been instigated by Sarah.

Suddenly an idea burst upon him. Looking over the papers taken from Ferrand, he saw that the notary had reason to fear the existence of a certain child he had turned over to Screech-Owl ten years previously. These suspicions changed to conviction when e learned that on the day of Marie's release a woman had been drowned in the Seine. So great was his rage that he now determined to revenge himself doubly on the criminal notary.

The Countess Sarah was recovering slowly. Rudolph, believing her to be dying, consented to visit her. He found her dressed and decked in her jewels, but pale and weak.

"Rudolph, I am dying," she said; "I have something of great importance to tell you." Her agitation was intense.

"Our child is not dead!" burst from her suddenly.

"Our child!"

"I tell you, she lives!"

"Enough, madame, you cannot deceive me. I know your schemes."

"But listen, I have proof!" she cried eagerly. "I have told you the truth. You remember I had left the child with my notary to superintend her education. He was false to me. She had not died, but was disposed of to a woman known as the Screech-Owl, and----"

"No! No! I do not believe you--I do not wish to believe you!"

"See," she continued, "here is her portrait."

He seized the miniature. Yes, in the child's face were recognizable the blue eyes, the oval face, the fair hair, so familiar to him in Fleur-de-Marie.

"God!" he cried, "you wretched woman! La Goualeuse our daughter! Found, only to lose her again. Dead!"

"No, she lives, Rudolph. Pity! I die!"

"Your child is dead, murdered. May the knowledge curse your last moments!" And he rushed from the house, leaving Sarah in a fainting condition.

Meanwhile, the Marquise d'Harville, a friend of Rudolph's, learned by chance of the presence of La Goualeuse in the house of the doctor who had rescued her from the Seine. Knowing Rudolph's keen interest in La Goualeuse, Madame d'Harville determined to take her with her in her carriage to convey the good news to Rudolph in person.

Some days later she appeared at Rudolph's magnificent apartments and announced to him that Fleur-de-Marie was below in the carriage. Rudolph rose, pale, supporting himself by the table. Madame d'Harville's surprise restrained him.

"Ah, Clemence," he murmured, "you do not know what you have done for me. Fleur-de-Marie is--my daughter!"

"Your daughter, your Highness?"

Then suddenly she understood. Fleur-de-Marie was brought up, and it required Clemence to restrain Rudolph so that he broke the news gently. Fleur-de-Marie was even then overcome, for she had loved Rudolph as she would have loved her god.

Sarah died soon afterward. Rudolph asked Clemence d'Harville to become mother to Marie, now the Princess Amelia, and they returned to Germany. On setting out they passed in their carriage through a crowd attending an execution. Several criminals in the crowd, recognising Rudolph, attempted to attack him. Suddenly a man sprang forward in his defence, but was stabbed by one of the crowd and fell dying. It was the Slasher. "I could not go to Algiers," he murmured. "I wished to be near you, Monsieur Rudolph."

A noble prince sought the hand of the Princess Amelia, but she, feeling her past degradation, retired to a convent, where she died, beloved by all, mourned deeply by Rudolph and Clemence.

Ferrand, the notary, died in convulsions, killing Brodamonte with a poisoned dagger. Germain, restored to his mother, married happily, his wife's dowry coming from the prince.

* * * * *

JONATHAN SWIFT

Gulliver's Travels Into Several Remote Nations of the World

Jonathan Swift, the greatest and most original satirist of his own, or perhaps of any age, was born in Dublin, Ireland, of English parents, November 30, 1667. His poverty and abject dependence upon his relatives in his early youth may have given the first impetus to that bitter resentment and haughty spirit of pride which characterized him through life. After a somewhat troubled career in Trinity College, Dublin, he removed to England, where he entered the household of the retired English statesman, Sir William Temple, whose literary executor he became ten years later. The advertisement which this connection, and the performance of its final office, gave him, led to his appointment to a small living and certain other church emoluments in Ireland. In the following years he paid several protracted visits to London, where by the power of his pen and his unrivalled genius as a satirist of the politics of his time, he rapidly rose to a most formidable position in the State,--the intimate of poets and of statesmen. And yet, owing to the opposition which his claims met with at court, he derived no higher preferment for himself than the deanery of St. Patrick's, Dublin, in 1713. In time Swift reconciled himself to this change by vehemently espousing the cause of the Irish against their English rulers, and by his writings made himself as famous in that country as he had formerly done in England. Gradually the gloom of cerebral decay descended upon his magnificent intellect, and he died October 19, 1745. "To think of his ruin," said Thackeray, "is like thinking of the ruin of an empire." No more original work of genius than Swift's "Gulliver's Travels" exists in the English language. For sheer intellectual power it may not be equal to the "Tale of a Tub," but as it has more variety, so it has more art. "Gulliver" was published in 1726, at a period when life's disappointments had ceased to worry Swift. It is probable, however, that the book was planned some years previously, the keenness of the satire on courts and statesmen suggesting that his frustrated aims still rankled in his mind. Curious is it that so perfect an artist should nevertheless have missed the main purpose which he set himself in this book, namely, "to vex the world rather than divert it." The world refused to be vexed, and was hugely diverted. The real greatness of "Gulliver" lies in its teeming imagination and implacable logic. Swift succeeded in endowing the wildest improbabilities with an air of veracity rivalling Defoe himself. (See also Vol. X, p. 282.)

_I.--A Voyage to Lilliput_

My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire, but the charge of maintaining me at Cambridge being too great, after three years there I was bound apprentice to an eminent surgeon in London; in my spare time I studied navigation, and mathematics, useful to those who travel, as I always believed, at some time, it would be my fortune to do.