x.x.xII
THE GALLEY SLAVES
Jacques was not mistaken when he thought he saw his brother among the convicts. The unhappy Edouard had undergone his punishment for the crime which he had allowed himself to be led into committing. His sentence condemned him to twenty years hard labor, to be branded and exposed to public view.
Lampin, who had already been in prison for theft, was sentenced to the galleys for life. In vain did he repeat to Edouard his lesson, and urge him to deny everything; Edouard had not enough strength of character to form a resolution. He contradicted himself, betrayed himself, and allowed himself to be easily convicted of his crime. The miserable wretch recognized his wife and child at the moment that he was branded with the mark of infamy. He saw Adeline fall unconscious before him; that heartrending picture was long present in his mind; the image of a woman who adored him and whose life he had wrecked, the sight of a child whom he condemned to the shame of not being able to mention her father without a shudder, and the memory of the happiness he had once enjoyed in his home,--all these overwhelmed the unhappy felon and made him feel more keenly the horror of his situation.
Remorse gnawed at Edouard"s heart, and led him, so far as he was able, to avoid the society of the other prisoners, who laughed at his grief and sneered at his cowardice. A hundred times the poor wretch formed a plan to put an end to his existence, but only in fear and trembling did he invent methods which his weak character instantly spurned. In this frame of mind Murville made the journey from Bicetre to Toulon, without observing that his brother gave alms to his companions as they pa.s.sed through Paris.
Lampin was always the same; at the galleys he retained his recklessness and gayety; shame was to him nothing more than an empty word, and he strove every day to lift Edouard above what he called prejudice.
The penitent culprit never receives useful advice in the society of galley slaves. For one criminal who knows the pangs of remorse, how many are there who become hardened in crime and take pleasure in corrupting entirely those whom sincere repentance might have led back into the paths of virtue!
The image of Adeline and her daughter gradually faded from Edouard"s mind, and gave way to the schemes of which his companions talked to him day after day. He banished a remorse which they proved to be useless, in order to invent some plan of escape; and after six months of imprisonment, distaste for life was replaced in his mind by an ardent longing for liberty.
A bold scheme was formed. Even at the galleys, prisoners find a way of establishing relations with those of their friends who are momentarily enjoying their freedom; and these latter brave everything to serve their comrades, because they know that they are likely at any day to demand a similar service from them.
It was Lampin who supervised the execution of the plot. Forced to be sober, he was in full possession of his wits. The day, the moment arrived. A keeper, who had been bribed, left a door unlocked; the convicts, supplied with files, removed their fetters; they a.s.sembled at midnight, killed three watchmen, and made their way into a yard, the wall of which was easily scaled by men accustomed to climb walls. Lampin went up first; Edouard followed him, clinging to the chain which his companion still had attached to his feet; several convicts had thus pa.s.sed over the wall and jumped into the ditch which was on the other side. But musket shots were heard, the alarm was given, the garrison was under arms, soldiers ran to the walls and fired at the prisoners.
Several fell dead, others surrendered, the revolt was put down; but it was some time before they could ascertain the number of those who had escaped.
Lampin and Edouard had heard the report of shots. They succeeded in getting out of the ditch, but where should they go? How could they make their escape quickly enough? Already soldiers were scouring the city and the harbor; soon they would fall into their hands. Edouard was in despair, and Lampin was cudgeling his brains, swearing that they should not take him alive. But at that moment they heard the sound of bells on a horse, and soon an open wagon, loaded with vegetables and driven by a young peasant, pa.s.sed them. The peasant was seated in the front of the wagon, fast asleep, with his reins lying on the back of the horse, which followed at a slow pace its accustomed road.
"Do as I do," said Lampin, running after the wagon. "We are saved."
He climbed up behind, made a great hole in the peas, cabbages and carrots, and climbed into it, followed by Edouard, leaving hardly enough s.p.a.ce to give them air. The peasant turned, rubbed his eyes, and saw nothing, for he was still half asleep; and he was preparing to snore louder than ever, when some soldiers pa.s.sed the wagon.
"Did you meet anyone, my friend?" asked the sergeant of the peasant.
"No, no, no one, messieurs, no one but donkeys, wagons and people from our place."
"Be on the lookout; some convicts have escaped; if you see any of them, call for help and notice which way they go."
The soldiers pa.s.sed on. The peasant lay down again, mumbling between his teeth:
"Oh, yes! I think I see myself watching convicts! I would much rather dream about my dear Manette; anyway I ain"t afraid of them; those fellows don"t amuse themselves stealing cabbages and carrots."
"We are saved!" said Edouard to his companion, in an undertone.
"Not yet," said Lampin; "this peasant is taking his vegetables to market, and if he should uncover us, I don"t believe he would take us for two bunches of onions."
"What are we to do then?"
"Parbleu! we must take to the fields; but let"s wait until this rascal snores well; it won"t be long, as he is thinking of his dear Manette."
In fact, the peasant was soon sound asleep. Thereupon Lampin put one hand out from under the vegetables, seized the rein, and pulled the horse to the other side of the road. The beast knew but two roads, the one to market and the one to his stable. When he was jerked violently away from the former, he supposed that his master was going home, so he turned back toward the village without hesitation.
"Well, we are safe now," said Edouard, softly putting his head out from under the vegetables which covered him, and seeing nothing but trees and fields about him,--no houses.
"You always think that you are safe, you idiot," said Lampin, "but we are not out of danger yet; we have just left Toulon; this peasant is taking us to his village, where we shall be pinched."
"We must get out of the wagon and hide."
"A fine thing to do! hide! Where, I should like to know? In the trees, like parrots? We must gain ground first, and with these chains on our feet, we shan"t go far."
"We will file them."
"Have we got the time? Come, let"s make a bold stroke; we are in a sunken road, and I don"t see any houses, and--first of all, get down, quick."
"And then?"
"Get down, I tell you, and stop the horse quietly; meanwhile I will begin by searching our driver."
Edouard got down from the wagon. Lampin drew in the reins, and the horse stopped.
"We must unharness him, and escape on him," said Lampin; "let"s make haste."
As he spoke, he searched the peasant"s pockets and took possession of his knife and a few pieces of money. Edouard, being very awkward and unskilled in the art of unharnessing a horse, called Lampin to his a.s.sistance. He seemed to be meditating a new plan as he looked at the peasant"s clothes.
"I am in mortal terror that he will wake," said Edouard.
"If he wakes, he is a dead man," said Lampin, as he hastily alighted and unfastened the straps that held the horse in the shafts. But the peasant was so accustomed to the movement of the wagon that he woke a few moments after it stopped.
"Go on, go on, I say!" he said, rubbing his eyes.
"We are lost!" whispered Edouard. Lampin did not reply, but he darted toward the wagon, and as the hapless peasant started to rise, he buried his knife in his breast.
The man uttered but one feeble cry. Edouard was horrorstruck.
"You wretch! what have you done?" he said with a shudder.
"What was necessary," said Lampin; "the worst of it now is that I can"t take his clothes, which are drenched with blood; I must be content with the hat and the blouse."
As he said this, the villain stripped his victim, put on his blouse, and hastily mounted the horse; then he turned toward Edouard, who had not yet recovered from his stupor.
"Now, my boy," he said, "get out of it how you can."
And he at once p.r.i.c.ked his horse with the point of his knife, and disappeared, leaving Edouard beside the unfortunate man whom his companion had murdered.
x.x.xIII
THE WOOD-CUTTER AND THE ROBBERS