"But the children,--the children!"
"The children will grow up, and, but for you, they would have been quite formed already. Francois is almost ready, and, when you are gone, Amandine will make up for lost time."
"Mother, I entreat of you, consent to having the children sent away from here, and put in apprenticeship at a distance."
"I tell you that they are in apprenticeship here!"
The felon"s widow uttered these last words so immovably that Martial lost all hope of mollifying this soul of bronze.
"Since it is so," he replied, "hear me in my turn, mother,--I remain!"
"Ha! ha!"
"Not in this house. I shall be a.s.sa.s.sinated by Nicholas, or poisoned by Calabash. But, as I have no means of lodging elsewhere, I and the children will occupy the hovel at the end of the island; the door of that is strong, and I will make it still more secure. Once there, I will barricade myself, and, with my gun, my stick, and my dog, I am afraid of no one. To-morrow morning I will take the children with me. During the day they will be with me, either in my boat or elsewhere; and, at night, they shall sleep near me in the hovel. We can live on the fish I catch until I find some means of placing them, and find it I will."
"Oh! That"s it, is it?"
"Neither you, nor my brother, nor Calabash can prevent this, can you? If your robberies and murders are discovered during my abode on the island, so much the worse; but I"ll chance it. I will declare that I came back and remained here in consequence of the children, to prevent them from becoming infamous. They will decide. The children shall not remain another day in this abode; and I defy you and your gang to drive me from this island!"
The widow knew Martial"s resolution, and the children, who loved their eldest brother as much as they feared her, would certainly follow him unhesitatingly whenever and wherever he called them. As to himself, well armed and most determined, always on his guard, in his boat during the day, and secure and barricaded in the hovel on the island at night, he had nothing to fear from the malevolence of his family.
Martial"s project, then, might be realised in every particular; but the widow had many reasons for preventing its execution. In the first place, as honest work-people sometimes consider the number of their children as wealth, in consequence of the services which they derive from them, the widow relied on Amandine and Francois to a.s.sist her in her atrocities.
Then, what she had said of her desire to avenge her husband and son was true. Certain beings, nurtured, matured, hardened in crime, enter into open revolt, into war of extermination, against society, and believe that, lay fresh crimes, they shall avenge themselves for the just penalties which have been exacted from them and those belonging to them.
Then, too, the sinister designs of Nicholas against Fleur-de-Marie, and afterwards against the jewel-matcher, might be thwarted by Martial"s presence.
The widow had hoped to effect an immediate separation between herself and Martial, either by keeping up and aiding Nicholas"s quarrel, or by disclosing to him that, if he obstinately persisted in remaining in the island, he ran the risk of being suspected as an accomplice in many crimes.
As cunning as she was penetrating, the widow, perceiving that she had failed, saw that she must have recourse to treachery to entrap her son in her b.l.o.o.d.y snare, and she therefore replied, after a lengthened pause, with a.s.sumed bitterness:
"I see your plan. You will not inform against us yourself, but you will contrive that the children shall do so."
"I?"
"They know now that there is a man buried here; they know that Nicholas has robbed. Once apprenticed they would talk, we should be apprehended, and we should all suffer,--you with us. That is what would happen if I listened to you, and allowed you to place the children elsewhere. Yet you say you do not wish us any harm? I do not ask you to love me; but do not hasten the hour of our apprehension!"
The milder tone of the widow made Martial believe that his threats had produced a salutary effect on her, and he fell into the fearful snare.
"I know the children," he replied; "and I am sure that, in desiring them to say nothing, not a word will they say. Besides, in one way or another, I shall be always with them, and I will answer for their silence."
"Can we answer for the chatter of children, especially in Paris, where people are so curious and so gossiping? It is as much that they should not betray us, as that they should a.s.sist us in our plans, that I desire to keep them here."
"Don"t they go sometimes to the villages, and even to Paris? Who could prevent them from talking if they were inclined to talk? If they were a long way off, why, so much the better; for what they would then say would do us no harm."
"A long way off,--and where?" inquired the widow, looking steadfastly at her son.
"Let me take them away,--where is no consequence to you."
"How will you and they live?"
"My old master, the locksmith, is a worthy man, and I will tell him as much as he need know, and, perhaps, he will lend me something for the sake of the children; with that I will go and apprentice them a long way off. We will leave in two days, and you will hear no more of us."
"No, no! I prefer their remaining with me. I shall then be perfectly sure of them."
"Then I will take up my quarters in the hovel on the island until something turns up. I have a way and a will of my own, and you know it."
"Yes, I know it. Oh, how I wish you were a thousand miles away! Why didn"t you remain in your woods?"
"I offer to rid you of myself and the children."
"What! Would you leave La Louve here, whom you love so much?" asked the widow, suddenly.
"That"s my affair. I know what I shall do. I have my plans."
"If I let you take away Amandine and Francois, will you never again set foot in Paris?"
"Before three days have pa.s.sed, we shall have departed, and be as dead to you."
"I prefer that to having you here, and always distrusting you and them.
So, since I must give way, take them, and be off as quickly as possible, and never let me see you more!"
"Agreed!"
"Agreed! Give me the key of the cellar, that I may let Nicholas out!"
"No; let him sleep his liquor off, and I"ll give you the key to-morrow morning."
"And Calabash?"
"Ah, that"s another affair! Let her out when I have gone. I can"t bear the sight of her."
"Go, and may h.e.l.l confound you!"
"That"s your farewell, mother?"
"Yes."
"Fortunately your last!" said Martial.
"My last!" responded the widow.
Her son lighted a candle, then opened the kitchen door, whistled to his dog, who ran in, quite delighted at being admitted, and followed his master to the upper story of the house.
"Go,--your business is settled!" muttered the widow, shaking her clenched hand at her son, as he went up the stairs; "but it is your own act."
Then, by Calabash"s a.s.sistance, who brought her a bundle of false keys, the widow unlocked the cellar door where Nicholas was, and set him at liberty.