"Instead of remorse, he ought to have indigestion, unhappy man!" said Sister Prudence. "That, perhaps, might cure him."
"True, my sister, but that is not the case. However, the canon"s life is pa.s.sed in enjoying and regretting that he has enjoyed; sometimes remorse, aided by superst.i.tion, leads him to expect some sudden and terrible punishment from heaven, but when appet.i.te returns remorse is forgotten, and thus has it been a long time with the canon."
"After all, my brother, I think him far less culpable than this Sardanapalus, your Doctor Gasterini, who impudently indulges his appet.i.te without compunction. The canon is, at least, conscious of his sin, and that is something."
"Since the character of the canon is now understood, you will not be astonished that, finding himself at Cadiz, and learning that a ship named the _Gastronome_ was about to sail for France, Dom Diego seized the opportunity to embark on a vessel so happily named, so as to be able, on his arrival at Bordeaux, to purchase several tons of the choicest wines."
"Certainly. I understand that, my dear brother."
"Well, then, Dom Diego embarked with his niece on board the _Gastronome._ It is impossible to imagine--so the majordomo told me--the quant.i.ty of stores, provisions, and refreshments of all sorts with which the canon enc.u.mbered the deck of this vessel,--obstructions invariably forbidden by all rules of navigation,--but the commander of this ship, a certain Captain Horace, miscreant that he is, had only too good reason for ignoring discipline and making himself agreeable to the canon."
"And this reason, my brother?"
"Fascinated by the beauty of the niece, when Dom Diego came with her to stipulate the terms of his pa.s.sage, this contemptible captain, suddenly enamoured of Dolores Salcedo, and expecting to profit by opportunities the voyage would offer, granted all that Dom Diego demanded, in the hope of seeing him embark with his niece."
"What villainy on the part of this captain, my brother!"
"Fortunately, Heaven has punished him for it, and that can save us.
Well, the canon and his niece embarked on board the _Gastronome_, laden with all that could tempt or satisfy appet.i.te. Just as they left port a terrible tempest arose, and the safety of the vessel required everything to be thrown into the sea, not only the canon"s provisions, but cages of birds and beasts taken aboard for the sustenance of the pa.s.sengers. This squall, which drove the vessel far from the coast of Bordeaux, lasted so long and with such fury that almost the entire voyage it was impossible to do any cooking, and pa.s.sengers, sailors, and officers were reduced to the fare of dry biscuit and salt meat."
"Oh, the unhappy canon! what became of him?"
"He became furious, my sister, because this pa.s.sage actually cost him his appet.i.te."
"Ah, my brother, the finger of Providence was there!"
"In a word, whether by reason of the terror caused by the tempest, or a long deprivation of choice food, or whether the detestable nourishment he was compelled to take impaired his health, the canon, since he disembarked from the _Gastronome_, has completely lost his appet.i.te. The little that he eats to sustain him, the majordomo tells me, is insipid and unpalatable, no matter how well prepared it may be; and more, he is tormented by the idea or superst.i.tion that Heaven has justly punished him for his inordinate indulgence. And, as Captain Horace is in his eyes the chief instrument of Heaven"s anger, the canon has taken an unconquerable dislike to the miscreant, not forgetting, too, that all his luxuries were thrown into the sea by order of the captain. In vain has the captain tried to make him comprehend that his own salvation, as well as that of many others, depended on this sacrifice; Dom Diego remains inflexible in his hatred. Well, my dear sister, would you believe that, notwithstanding that, the captain, upon his arrival at Bordeaux, had the audacity to ask of Dom Diego the hand of his niece in marriage, a.s.suming that this unhappy young girl was in love with him.
You appreciate the fact, my sister, that two lovers do not remember bad cheer or terrible tempests, and that this miscreant has bewildered the innocent creature. I need not tell you of the fury of Dom Diego at this insolent proposal from the captain, whom he regards as his mortal enemy, as the bad spirit sent to him by the anger of Heaven. So the canon has informed Dolores that, as a punishment for having dared to fall in love with such a scoundrel, he would put her in a convent upon his arrival in Paris, and that she should there take the veil."
"But, my brother, so far I see only success for our plans. Everything seems to favour them."
"Yes, my sister; but you are counting without the love of Dolores, and the resolute character of this d.a.m.ned captain."
"What audacity!"
"He followed on horseback, relay after relay, the carriage of the canon, galloping from Bordeaux to Paris like a state messenger. He must have a const.i.tution of iron. He stopped at every inn where Dom Diego stopped, and during the journey Dolores and the captain were ogling each other, in spite of the rage and resistance of Dom Diego. Could he prevent this love-sick girl looking out of the window? Could he prevent this miscreant riding on the highway by the side of his carriage?"
"Such audacity seems incredible, does it not, my brother?"
"Which is the reason I tell you we must be on guard everywhere from this madman. He is not alone; one of his sailors, a veritable blackguard, accompanied him, riding behind in his train, and holding on to his horse like a monkey on a donkey, so the majordomo told me. But that did not matter, this demon of a sailor is capable of anything to help his captain, to whom he is devoted. And that is not all. Twenty times on the route Dolores positively told her uncle that she did not wish to become a religious, that she wished to marry the captain, and that he would know how to come to her if they constrained her,--he and his sailor would deliver her if they had to set fire to the convent."
"What a bandit!" cried Sister Prudence. "What a desperate villain!"
"You see, dear sister, how things were yesterday, when Dom Diego took possession of the apartment I had previously engaged for him. This morning he desired me to visit him. I found him in bed and very much depressed. He told me that a sudden revolution had taken place in the mind of his niece; that now she seemed as submissive and resigned as she had been rebellious, that she had at last consented to go to the convent, and to-day if it was required."
"My brother, my brother, this is a very sudden and timely change."
"Such is my opinion, my sister, and, if I am not mistaken, this sudden change hides some snare. I have told you we must play a sure game. It is a great deal, no doubt, to have this love-sick girl in our hands; but we must not forget the enemy, this detestable Captain Horace, who, accompanied by his sailor, will no doubt be prowling around the house, like the ravening wolf spoken of in the Scriptures."
"_Quaerens quem devoret,_" said Sister Prudence, who prided herself upon her Latin.
"Just so, my sister, seeking whom he may devour, but, fortunately, there"s a good watch-dog for every good wolf, and we have intelligent and courageous servants. The strictest watchfulness must be established without and within. We will soon know where this miscreant of a captain lives; he will not take a step without being followed by one of our men.
He will be very clever and very brave if he accomplishes anything."
"This watchfulness seems to me very necessary, my dear brother."
"Now my carriage is below, let us go to the canon"s apartments, and in an hour his niece will be here."
"Never to go out of this house, if it pleases Heaven, my brother, because it is for the eternal happiness of this poor foolish girl."
Two hours after this conversation Senora Dolores Salcedo entered the Convent of Ste. Rosalie.
CHAPTER II.
A few days after the entrance of Senora Dolores Salcedo in the house of Ste. Rosalie, and just at the close of the day, two men were slowly walking along the Boulevard de l"Hopital, one of the most deserted places in Paris.
The younger of these two individuals seemed to be about twenty-five or thirty years old. His face was frank and resolute, his complexion sunburnt, his figure tall and robust, his step decided, and his dress simple and of military severity.
His companion, a little shorter, but unusually square and thick-set, seemed to be about fifty-five years old, and presented that type of the sailor familiar to the eyes of Parisians. An oilcloth hat, low in shape, with a wide brim, placed on the back of his head, revealed a brow ornamented with five or six corkscrew curls, known as heart-catchers, while the rest of his hair was cut very close. This manner of wearing the hair, called the sailor style, was, if traditions are true, quite popular in 1825 among crews of the line sailing from the port of Brest.
A white shirt with a blue collar, embroidered in red, falling over his broad shoulders, permitted a view of the bull like neck of our sailor, whose skin was tanned until it resembled parchment, the colour of brick.
A round vest of blue cloth, with b.u.t.tons marked with an anchor, and wide trousers bound to his hips by a red woollen girdle, completed our man"s apparel. Side-whiskers of brown, shaded with fawn colour, encased his square face, which expressed both good humour and decision of character. A superficial observer might have supposed the left cheek of the sailor to be considerably inflamed, but a more attentive examination would have disclosed the fact that an enormous quid of tobacco produced this one-sided tumefaction. Let us add, lastly, that the sailor carried on his back a bag, whose contents seemed quite bulky.
The two men had just reached a place in front of a high wall surrounding a garden. The top of the trees could scarcely be distinguished, for the night had fallen.
The young man said to his companion, as he stopped and turned his ear eastward:
"Sans-Plume, listen."
"Please G.o.d, what is it, captain?" said the man with the tobacco quid, in reply to this singular surname.
"I am not mistaken, it is certainly here."
"Yes, captain, it is in this made land between these two large trees.
Here is the place where the wall is a little damaged. I noticed it yesterday evening at dusk, when we picked up the stone and the letter."
"That is so. Come quick, my old seaman," said the captain to his sailor, indicating with his eye one of the large trees of the boulevard, several of whose branches hung over the garden wall. "Up, Sans-Plume, while we are waiting the hour let us see if we can rig the thing."
"Captain, there is still a bit of twilight, and I see below a man who is coming this way."
"Then let us wait. Hide first your bag behind the trunk of this tree,--you have forgotten nothing?"
"No, captain, all my rigging is in there."