Part 20

“Yet such had been my misery for the past two years, that this gloomy stay in a hospital was for me like an oasis in the desert. The good sisters were very kind to me; and, when I was able, I helped them with their lighter work, or went to the chapel with them. I shuddered at the thought that I must leave them as soon as I was entirely well; and then what would become of me? For my trunk had not been found, and I was destitute of all.

“And yet I had, at the hospital, more than one subject for gloomy reflections. Twice a week, on Thursdays and Sundays, visitors were admitted; and there was not on those days a single patient who did not receive a relative or a friend. But I, no one, nothing, never!

“But I am mistaken. I was commencing to get well, when one Sunday I saw by my bedside an old man, dressed all in black, of alarming appearance, wearing blue spectacles, and holding under his arm an enormous portfolio, crammed full of papers.

“‘You are Mlle. Lucienne, I believe,’ he asked.

“‘Yes,’ I replied, quite surprised.

“‘You are the person who was knocked down by a carriage on the corner of the Boulevard and the Faubourg St. Martin?’

“‘Yes sir.’

“‘Do you know whose equipage that was?’

“‘The Baronne de Thaller’s, I was told.’

“He seemed a little surprised, but at once,

“‘Have you seen that lady, or caused her to be seen in your behalf?’

“‘No.’

“‘Have you heard from her in any manner?’

“‘No.’

“A smile came back upon his lips.

“‘Luckily for you I am here,’ he said. ‘Several times already I have called; but you were too unwell to hear me. Now that you are better, listen.’

“And thereupon, taking a chair, he commenced to explain his profession to me.

“He was a sort of broker; and accidents were his specialty. As soon as one took place, he was notified by some friends of his at police headquarters. At once he started in quest of the victim, overtook her at home or at the hospital, and offered his services. For a moderate commission he undertook, if needs be, to recover damages. He commenced suit when necessary; and, if he thought the case tolerably safe, he made advances. He stated, for instance, that my case was a plain one, and that he would undertake to obtain four or five thousand francs, at least, from Mme. de Thaller. All he wanted was my power of attorney. But, in spite of his pressing instances, I declined his offers; and he withdrew, very much displeased, assuring me that I would soon repent.

“Upon second thought, indeed, I regretted to have followed the first inspiration of my pride, and the more so, that the good sisters whom I consulted on the subject told me that I was wrong, and that my reclamation would be perfectly proper. At their suggestion, I then adopted another line of conduct, which, they thought, would as surely bring about the same result.

“As briefly as possible, I wrote out the history of my life from the day I had been left with the gardeners at Louveciennes. I added to it a faithful account of my present situation; and I addressed the whole to Mme. de Thaller.

“‘You’ll see if she don’t come before a day or two,’ said the sisters.

“They were mistaken. Mme. de Thaller came neither the next nor the following days; and I was still awaiting her answer, when, one morning, the doctor announced that I was well enough to leave the hospital.

“I cannot say that I was very sorry. I had lately made the acquaintance of a young workwoman, who had been sent to the hospital in consequence of a fall, and who occupied the bed next to mine. She was a girl of about twenty, very gentle, very obliging, and whose amiable countenance had attracted me from the first.

“Like myself, she had no parents. But she was rich, very rich. She owned the furniture of the room, a sewing-machine, which had cost her three hundred francs, and, like a true child of Paris, she understood five or six trades, the least lucrative of which yielded her twenty-five or thirty cents a day. In less than a week, we had become good friends; and, when she left the hospital,

“‘Believe me,’ she said: ‘when you come out yourself, don’t waste your time looking for a place. Come to me: I can accommodate you. I’ll teach you what I know; and, if you are industrious, you’ll make your living, and you’ll be free.’

“It was to her room that I went straight from the hospital, carrying, tied in a handkerchief, my entire baggage,--one dress, and a few undergarments that the good sisters had given me.

“She received me like a sister, and after showing me her lodging, two little attic-rooms shining with cleanliness,

“‘You’ll see,’ she said, kissing me, ‘how happy we’ll be here.’”

It was getting late. M. Fortin had long ago come up and put out the gas on the stairs. One by one, every noise had died away in the hotel. Nothing now disturbed the silence of the night save the distant sound of some belated cab on the Boulevard. But neither Maxence nor Mlle. Lucienne were noticing the flight of time, so interested were they, one in telling, and the other in listening to, this story of a wonderful existence. However, Mlle. Lucienne’s voice had become hoarse with fatigue. She poured herself a glass of water, which she emptied at a draught, and then at once,

“Never yet,” she resumed, “had I been agitated by such a sweet sensation. My eyes were full of tears; but they were tears of gratitude and joy. After so many years of isolation, to meet with such a friend, so generous, and so devoted: it was like finding a family. For a few weeks, I thought that fate had relented at last. My friend was an excellent workwoman; but with some intelligence, and the will to learn, I soon knew as much as she did.

“There was plenty of work. By working twelve hours, with the help of the thrice-blessed sewing-machine, we succeeded in making six, seven, and even eight francs a day. It was a fortune.

“Thus several months elapsed in comparative comfort.

“Once more I was afloat, and I had more clothes than I had lost in my trunk. I liked the life I was leading; and I would be leading it still, if my friend had not one day fallen desperately in love with a young man she had met at a ball. I disliked him very much, and took no trouble to conceal my feelings: nevertheless, my friend imagined that I had designs upon him, and became fiercely jealous of me. Jealousy does not reason; and I soon understood that we would no longer be able to live in common, and that I must look elsewhere for shelter. But my friend gave me no time to do so.

“Coming home one Monday night at about eleven, she notified me to clear out at once. I attempted to expostulate: she replied with abuse. Rather than enter upon a degrading struggle, I yielded, and went out.

“That night I spent on a chair in a neighbor’s room. But the next day, when I went for my things, my former friend refused to give them, and presumed to keep every thing. I was compelled, though reluctantly, to resort to the intervention of the commissary of police.

“I gained my point. But the good days had gone. Luck did not follow me to the wretched furnished house where I hired a room. I had no sewing-machine, and but few acquaintances. By working fifteen or sixteen hours a day, I made thirty or forty cents. That was not enough to live on. Then work failed me altogether, and, piece by piece, every thing I had went to the pawnbroker’s. On a gloomy December morning, I was turned out of my room, and left on the pavement with a ten-cent-piece for my fortune.

“Never had I been so low; and I know not to what extremities I might have come at last, when I happened to think of that wealthy lady whose horses had upset me on the Boulevard. I had kept her card. Without hesitation, I went unto a grocery, and calling for some paper and a pen, I wrote, overcoming the last struggle of my pride,

“‘Do you remember, madame, a poor girl whom your carriage came near crushing to death? Once before she applied to you, and received no answer. She is to-day without shelter and without bread; and you are her supreme hope.’

“I placed these few lines in an envelope, and ran to the address indicated on the card. It was a magnificent residence, with a vast court-yard in front. In the porter’s lodge, five or six servants were talking as I came in, and looked at me impudently, from head to foot, when I requested them to take my letter to Mme. de Thaller. One of them, however, took pity on me,

“‘Come with me,’ he said, ‘come along!’

“He made me cross the yard, and enter the vestibule; and then,

“‘Give me your letter,’ he said, ‘and wait here for me.’”

Maxence was about to express the thoughts which Mme. de Thaller’s name naturally suggested to his mind, but Mlle. Lucienne interrupted him,

“In all my life,” she went on, “I had never seen any thing so magnificent as that vestibule with its tall columns, its tessellated floor, its large bronze vases filled with the rarest flowers, and its red velvet benches, upon which tall footmen in brilliant livery were lounging.

“I was, I confess, somewhat intimidated by all of this splendor; and I remained awkwardly standing, when suddenly the servants stood up respectfully.

“A door had just opened, through which appeared a man already past middle age, tall, thin, dressed in the extreme of fashion, and wearing long red whiskers falling over his chest.”

“The Baron de Thaller,” murmured Maxence.

Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the interruption.

“The attitude of the servants,” she went on, “had made me easily guess that he was the master. I was bowing to him, blushing and embarrassed, when, noticing me, he stopped short, shuddering from head to foot.

“‘Who are you?’ he asked me roughly.

“I attributed his manner to the sad condition of my dress, which appeared more miserable and more dilapidated still amid the surrounding splendors; and, in a scarcely intelligible voice, I began,

“‘I am a poor girl, sir--’

“But he interrupted me.

“‘To the point! What do you want?’

“‘I am awaiting an answer, sir, to a request which I have just forwarded to the baroness.’

“‘What about?’

“‘Once sir, I was run over in the street by the baroness’s carriage: I was severely wounded, and had to be taken to the hospital.’

“I fancied there was something like terror in the man’s look.

“‘It is you, then, who once before sent a long letter to my wife, in which you told the story of your life?’

“‘Yes, sir, it was I.’

“‘You stated in that letter that you had no parents, having been left by your mother with some gardeners at Louveciennes?’

“‘That is the truth.’

“‘What has become of these gardeners?’

“‘They are dead.’

“‘What was your mother’s name?’

“‘I never knew.’

“To M. de Thaller’s first surprise had succeeded a feeling of evident irritation; but, the more haughty and brutal his manners, the cooler and the more self-possessed I became.

“‘And you are soliciting assistance?’ he said.

“I drew myself up, and, looking at him straight in the eyes,

“‘I beg your pardon,’ I replied: ‘it is a legitimate indemnity which I claim.’

“Indeed, it seemed to me that my firmness alarmed him. With a feverish haste, he began to feel in his pockets. He took out their contents of gold and bank-notes all in a heap, and, thrusting it into my hands without counting,

“‘Here,’ he said, ‘take this. Are you satisfied?’

“I observed to him, that, having sent a letter to Mme. de Thaller, it would perhaps be proper to await her answer. But he replied that it was not necessary, and, pushing me towards the door,

“‘You may depend upon it,’ he said, ‘I shall tell my wife that I saw you.’

“I started to go out; but I had not gone ten steps across the yard, when I heard him crying excitedly to his servants,

“‘You see that beggar, don’t you? Well, the first one who allows her to cross the threshold of my door shall be turned out on the instant.’

“A beggar, I! Ah the wretch! I turned round to cast his alms into his face; but already he had disappeared, and I only found before me the footman, chuckling stupidly.

“I went out; and, as my anger gradually passed off, I felt thankful that I had been unable to follow the dictates of my wounded pride.

“‘Poor girl,’ I thought to myself, ‘where would you be at this hour? You would only have to select between suicide and the vilest existence; whereas now you are above want.’

“I was passing before a small restaurant. I went in; for I was very hungry, having, so to speak, eaten nothing for several days past. Besides, I felt anxious to count my treasure. The Baron de Thaller had given me nine hundred and thirty francs.

“This sum, which exceeded the utmost limits of my ambition, seemed inexhaustible to me: I was dazzled by its possession.

“‘And yet,’ I thought, ‘had M. de Thaller happened to have ten thousand francs in his pockets he would have given them to me all the same.’

“I was at a loss to explain this strange generosity. Why his surprise when he first saw me, then his anger, and his haste to get rid of me? How was it that a man whose mind must be filled with the gravest cares had so distinctly remembered me, and the letter I had written to his wife? Why, after showing himself so generous, had he so strictly excluded me from his house?

“After vainly trying for some time to solve this riddle, I concluded that I must be the victim of my own imagination; and I turned my attention to making the best possible use of my sudden fortune. On the same day, I took a little room in the Faubourg St. Denis; and I bought myself a sewing-machine. Before the week was over, I had work before me for several months. Ah! this time it seemed indeed that I had nothing more to apprehend from destiny; and I looked forward, without fear, to the future. At the end of a month, I was earning four to five francs a day, when, one afternoon, a stout man, very well dressed, looking honest and good-natured, and speaking French with some difficulty, made his appearance at my room. He was an American he stated, and had been sent to me by the woman for whom I worked. Having need of a skilled Parisian work-woman, he came to propose to me to follow him to New York, where he would insure me a brilliant position.

“But I knew several poor girls, who, on the faith of dazzling promises, had expatriated themselves. Once abroad, they had been shamefully abandoned, and had been driven, to escape starvation, to resort to the vilest expedients. I refused, therefore, and frankly gave him my reasons for doing so.

“My visitor at once protested indignantly. Whom did I take him for? It was a fortune that I was refusing. He guaranteed me in New York board, lodging, and two hundred francs a month. He would pay all traveling and moving expenses. And, to prove to me the fairness of his intentions, he was ready, he said, to sign an agreement, and pay me a thousand down.

“These offers were so brilliant, that I was staggered in my resolution.

“‘Well,’ I said, ‘give me twenty-four hours to decide. I wish to see my employer.’

“He seemed very much annoyed; but, as I remained firm in my purpose, he left, promising to return the next day to receive my final answer.

“I ran at once to my employer. She did not know what I was talking about. She had sent no one, and was not acquainted with any American.

“Of course, I never saw him again; and I couldn’t help thinking of this singular adventure, when, one evening during the following week, as I was coming home at about eleven o’clock, two policemen arrested me, and, in spite of my earnest protestations, took me to the station-house, where I was locked up with a dozen unfortunates who had just been taken up on the Boulevards. I spent the night crying with shame and anger; and I don’t know what would have become of me, if the justice of the peace, who examined me the next morning, had not happened to be a just and kind man. As soon as I had explained to him that I was the victim of a most humiliating error he sent an agent in quest of information, and having satisfied himself that I was an honest girl, working for my living, he discharged me. But, before permitting me to go,

“‘Beware, my child,’ he said to me: ‘it is upon a formal and well-authenticated declaration that you were arrested. Therefore you must have enemies. People have an interest in getting rid of you.’”

Mademoiselle Lucienne was evidently almost exhausted with fatigue: her voice was failing her. But it was in vain that Maxence begged her to take a few moments of rest.

“No,” she answered, “I’d rather get through as quick as possible.”

And, making an effort, she resumed her narrative, hurrying more and more.

“I returned home, my mind all disturbed by the judge’s warnings. I am no coward; but it is a terrible thing to feel one’s self incessantly threatened by an unknown and mysterious danger, against which nothing can be done.

“In vain did I search my past life: I could think of no one who could have any interest in effecting my ruin. Those alone have enemies who have had friends. I had never had but one friend, the kind-hearted girl who had turned me out of her home in a fit of absurd jealousy. But I knew her well enough to knew that she was incapable of malice, and that she must long since have forgotten the unlucky cause of our rupture.

“Weeks after weeks passed without any new incident. I had plenty of work and was earning enough money to begin saving. So I felt comfortable, laughed at my former fears, and neglected the precautions which I had taken at first; when, one evening, my employer, having a very important and pressing order, sent for me. We did not get through our work until long after midnight.

“She wished me to spend the rest of the night with her; but it would have been necessary to make up a bed for me, and disturb the whole household.

“‘Bash!’ I said, ‘this will not be the first time I cross Paris in the middle of the night.’

“I started; and I was going along, walking as fast as I could, when, from the angle of a dark, narrow street, a man sprang upon me, threw me down, struck me, and would doubtless have killed me, but for two brave gentlemen who heard my screams and rushed to my assistance. The man ran off; and I was able to walk the rest of the way home, having received but a very slight wound.

“But the very next morning I ran to see my friend, the justice of the peace. He listened to me gravely, and, when I had concluded,

“‘How were you dressed?’ he inquired.

“‘All in black,’ I replied, ‘very modestly, like a workwoman.’

“‘Had you nothing on your person that could tempt a thief?’

“‘Nothing. No watch-chain, no jewelry, no ear-rings even.’

“‘Then,’ he uttered, knitting his brows, ‘it is not a fortuitous crime: it is another attempt on the part of your enemies.’

“Such was also my opinion. And yet:

“‘But, sir,’ I exclaimed, ‘who can have any interest to destroy me, --a poor obscure girl as I am? I have thought carefully and well, and I have not a single enemy that I can think of.’ And, as I had full confidence in his kindness, I went on telling him the story of my life.

“‘You are a natural child,’ he said as soon as I had done, ‘and you have been basely abandoned. That fact alone would be sufficient to justify every supposition. You do not know your parents; but it is quite possible that they may know you, and that they may never have lost sight of you. Your mother was a working-girl, you think? That may be. But your father? Do you know what interests your existence may threaten? Do you know what elaborate edifice of falsehood and infamy your sudden appearance might tumble to the ground?’

“I was listening dumfounded.

“Never had such conjectures crossed my mind; and, whilst I doubted their probability, I had, at least, to admit their possibility.

“‘What must I do, then?’ I inquired.

“The peace-officer shook his head.

“‘Indeed, my poor child, I hardly know what to advise. The police is not omnipotent. It can do nothing to anticipate a crime conceived in the brain of an unknown scoundrel.’

“I was terrified. He saw it, and took pity on me.

“‘In your place,’ he added, ‘I would change my domicile. You might, perhaps, thus make them lose your track. And, above all, do not fail to give me your new address. Whatever I can do to protect you, and insure your safety, I shall do.’

“That excellent man has kept his word; and once again I owed my safety to him. ‘Tis he who is now commissary of police in this district, and who protected me against Mme. Fortin. I hastened to follow his advice, and two days later I had hired the room in this house in which I am still living. In order to avoid every chance of discovery, I left my employer, and requested her to say, if any one came to inquire after me, that I had gone to America.

“I soon found work again in a very fashionable dress-making establishment, the name of which you must have heard,--Van Klopen’s. Unfortunately, war had just been declared. Every day announced a new defeat. The Prussians were coming; then the siege began. Van Klopen had closed his shop, and left Paris. I had a few savings, thank heaven; and I husbanded them as carefully as shipwrecked mariners do their last ration of food, when I unexpectedly found some work.

“It was one Sunday, and I had gone out to see some battalions of National Guards passing along the Boulevard, when suddenly I saw one of the vivandieres, who was marching behind the band, stop, and run towards me with open arms. It was my old friend from the Batignolles, who had recognized me. She threw her arms around my neck, and, as we had at once become the centre of a group of at least five hundred idlers,

“‘I must speak to you,’ she said. ‘If you live in the neighborhood, let’s go to your room. The service can wait.’