A labourer of the farm interrupted this conversation, which had been carried on in the garden.
"Madame, M. le Cure is waiting for you."
"Are the post-horses arrived, my lad?" inquired Rodolph.
"Yes, M. Rodolph; and they are putting to." And the man left the garden.
Madame Georges, the cure, and the inhabitants of the farm only knew Fleur-de-Marie"s protector as M. Rodolph. Murphy"s discretion was faultless; and although when in private he was very precise in "my-lording" Rodolph, yet before strangers he was very careful not to address him otherwise than as _M. Rodolph_.
"I forgot to mention, my dear Madame Georges," said Rodolph, when he returned to the house, "that Marie has, I fear, very weak lungs,--privations and misery have tried her health. This morning early I was struck with the pallor of her countenance, although her cheeks were of a deep rose colour; her eyes, too, seem to me to have a brilliancy which betokens a feverish system. Great care must be taken of her."
"Rely on me, M. Rodolph; but, thank G.o.d! there is nothing serious to apprehend. At her age, in the country, with pure air, rest, and quiet, she will soon be quite restored."
"I hope so; but I will not trust to your country doctors. I will desire Murphy to bring here my medical man,--a negro,--a very skilful person, who will tell you the best regimen to pursue. You must send me news of Marie very often. Some time hence, when she shall be better, and more at ease, we will talk about her future life; perhaps it would be best that she always remained with you, if you were pleased with her."
"I should like it greatly, M. Rodolph; she would supply the place of the child I have lost, and must for ever bewail."
"Let us still hope for you and for her."
At the moment when Rodolph and Madame Georges approached the farm, Murphy and Marie also entered. The worthy gentleman let go the arm of Goualeuse, and said to Rodolph in a low voice, and with an air of some confusion:
"This girl has bewitched me; I really do not know which interests me most, she or Madame Georges. I was a brute--a beast!"
"I knew, old Murphy, that you would do justice to my protegee," said Rodolph, smiling, and shaking hands with the squire.
Madame Georges, leaning on Marie"s arm, entered with her into a small room on the ground floor, where the Abbe Laporte was waiting. Murphy went away, to see all ready for their departure. Madame Georges, Marie, Rodolph, and the cure remained together.
Plain, but very comfortable, this small apartment was fitted up with green hangings, like the rest of the house, as had been exactly described to Goualeuse by Rodolph. A thick carpet covered the floor, a good fire burnt in the grate, and two large nosegays of daisies of all colours, placed in two crystal vases, shed their agreeable odour throughout the room. Through the windows, with their green blinds, which were half opened, was to be seen the meadow, the little stream, and, beyond it, the bank planted with chestnut-trees.
The Abbe Laporte, who was seated near the fireplace, was upwards of eighty years of age, and had, ever since the last days of the Revolution, done duty in this small parish. Nothing can be imagined more venerable than his aged, withered, and somewhat melancholy countenance, shaded by long white locks, which fell on the collar of his black ca.s.sock, which was pieced in more places than one; the abbe liked better, as they said, to clothe one or two poor children in good warm broadcloth, than _faire le muguet_; that is, to wear his ca.s.socks less than two or three years. The good abbe was so old, so very old, that his hands trembled continually, and when he occasionally lifted them up, when speaking, it might have been supposed that he was giving a benediction.
"M. l"Abbe," said Rodolph, respectfully, "Madame Georges has undertaken the guardianship of this young girl, for whom I also beg your kindness."
"She is ent.i.tled to it, sir, like all who come to us. The mercy of G.o.d is inexhaustible, my dear child, and he has evinced it in not abandoning you in most severe trials. I know all." And he took the hand of Marie in his own withered and trembling palms. "The generous man who has saved you has realised the words of Holy Writ, "The Lord is near to all those who call upon him; he will fulfil the desire of those who fear him; he will hear their cries, and he will save them." Now deserve his bounty by your conduct, and you will always find one ready to encourage and sustain you in the good path on which you have entered. You will have in Madame Georges a constant example, in me a careful adviser. The Lord will finish his work."
"And I will pray to him for those who have had compa.s.sion on me and have led me to him, father," said La Goualeuse, throwing herself on her knees before the priest. Her emotion overcame her; her sobs almost choked her.
Madame Georges, Rodolph, and the abbe were all deeply affected.
"Rise, my dear child," said the cure; "you will soon deserve absolution from those serious faults of which you have rather been the victim than the criminal; for, in the words of the prophet, "The Lord raises up all those who are ready to fall, and elevates those who are oppressed.""
Murphy, at this moment, opened the door.
"M. Rodolph," he said, "the horses are ready."
"Adieu, father! adieu, Madame Georges! I commend your child to your care,--our child, I should say. Farewell, Marie; I will soon come and see you again."
The venerable pastor, leaning on the arms of Madame Georges and La Goualeuse, who supported his tottering steps, left the room to see Rodolph depart.
The last rays of the sun shed their light on this interesting yet sad group:
An old priest, the symbol of charity, pardon, and everlasting hope; a female, overwhelmed by every grief that can distress a wife and mother; a young girl, hardly out of her infancy, and but recently thrown into an abyss of vice through misery and the close contact with crime.
Rodolph got into the carriage, Murphy took his place by his side, and the horses set off at speed.
CHAPTER XII.
THE RENDEZVOUS.
The day after he had confided the Goualeuse to the care of Madame Georges, Rodolph, still dressed as a mechanic, was, at noon precisely, at the door of a cabaret with the sign of the Panier-Fleuri, not far from the barrier of Bercy.
The evening before, at ten o"clock, the Chourineur was punctual to the appointment which Rodolph had fixed with him. The result of this narrative will inform our readers of the particulars of the meeting. It was twelve o"clock, and the rain fell in torrents; the Seine, swollen by perpetual falls of rain, had risen very high, and overflowed a part of the quay. Rodolph looked from time to time, with a gesture of impatience, towards the barrier, and at last observed a man and woman, who were coming towards him under the shelter of an umbrella, and whom he recognised as the Chouette and the Schoolmaster.
These two individuals were completely metamorphosed. The ruffian had laid aside his ragged garments and his air of brutal ferocity. He wore a long frock coat of green cloth, and a round hat; whilst his shirt and cravat were remarkable for their whiteness. But for the hideousness of his features and the fierce glance of his eyes, always restless and suspicious, this fellow might have been taken, by his quiet and steady step, for an honest citizen.
The Chouette was also in her Sunday costume, wearing a large shawl of fine wool, with a large pattern, and held in her hand a capacious basket.
The rain having ceased for the moment, Rodolph, overcoming a sensation of disgust, went to meet the frightful pair. For the slang of the _tapis-franc_ the Schoolmaster now subst.i.tuted a style almost polished, and which betokened a cultivated mind, in strange contrast with his real character and crimes. When Rodolph approached, the brigand made him a polite bow, and the Chouette curtseyed respectfully.
"Sir, your humble servant," said the Schoolmaster. "I am delighted to pay my respects to you--delighted--or, rather, to renew our acquaintance; for the night before last you paid me two blows of the fist which were enough to have felled a rhinoceros. But not a word of that now; it was a joke on your part, I am sure,--merely done in jest.
Let us not say another word about it, for serious business brings us now together. I saw the Chourineur yesterday, about eleven o"clock, at the _tapis-franc_, and appointed to meet him here to-day, in case he chose to join us,--to be our fellow labourer; but it seems that he most decidedly refuses."
"You, then, accept the proposal?"
"Your name, sir, if you be so good?"
"Rodolph."
"M. Rodolph, we will go into the Panier-Fleuri,--neither myself nor madame has breakfasted,--and we will talk over our little matters whilst we are taking a crust."
"Most willingly."
"We can talk as we go on. You and the Chourineur certainly do owe some satisfaction to my wife and myself,--you have caused us to lose more than two thousand francs. Chouette had a meeting near St. Ouen with the tall gentleman in mourning, who came to ask for you at the _tapis-franc_. He offered us two thousand francs to do something to you.
The Chourineur has told me all about this. But, Finette," said the fellow, "go and select a room at the Panier-Fleuri, and order breakfast,--some cutlets, a piece of veal, a salad, and a couple of bottles of vin de beaune, the best quality,--and we will join you there."
The Chouette, who had not taken her eye off Rodolph for a moment, went off after exchanging looks with the Schoolmaster, who then said:
"I say, M. Rodolph, that the Chourineur has edified me on the subject of the two thousand francs."
"What do you mean by edified you?"
"You are right,--the language is a little too refined for you. I would say that the Chourineur nearly told me all that the tall gentleman in mourning, with his two thousand francs, required."
"Good."