Only think, you may yet cut a figure in the capital, whilst the milkwoman must boil the pot for her brats, milk her cows, gather gra.s.s for her rabbits, and, perhaps, after all, get a black eye from her husband when he comes home from the pot-house. Why, it is really ridiculous to hear you talk of envying her."
The Goualeuse did not reply; her eye was fixed, her heart was full, and the expression of her face was painfully distressed. Rodolph had listened to the recital, made with so painful a frankness, with deep interest. Misery, dest.i.tution, ignorance of the world, had weighed down this wretched girl, cast at sixteen years of age on the wide world of Paris!
Rodolph involuntarily thought of a beloved child whom he had lost,--a girl, dead at six years of age, and who, had she survived, would have been, like Fleur-de-Marie, sixteen years and a half old. This recollection excited the more highly his solicitude for the unhappy creature whose narration he had just heard.
CHAPTER IV.
THE CHOURINEUR"S HISTORY.
The reader has not forgotten the two guests at the _tapis-franc_ who were watched so closely by the third individual who had come into the cabaret. We have said that one of these fellows, who had on a Greek cap, and concealed his left hand with much care, asked the ogress if the Schoolmaster and Gros-Boiteux had not arrived.
During the story of the Goualeuse, which they could not overhear, they had been constantly talking in a very low tone, throwing occasional hurried glances at the door. He who wore the Greek cap said to his comrade, "The Gros-Boiteux does not "show," nor the Schoolmaster."
"Perhaps the Skeleton has "done for him," and made off with the "swag.""
"A precious "go" that would be for us, who "laid the plant," and look out for our "snacks,"" replied the other.
The newcomer, who observed the two men, was seated too far off to hear a word they said, but, after having cautiously consulted a small paper concealed at the bottom of his cap, he appeared satisfied with his remarks, rose from the table, and said to the ogress, who was sleeping at the bar, with her feet on the stove, and her great cat on her knee:
"I say, Mother Ponisse, I shall soon be back again; take care of my pitcher and my plate; I don"t want any one to make free with them."
"Make yourself easy, my fine fellow," said Mother Ponisse; "if your plate and pitcher are empty, no one will touch them."
The newcomer laughed loudly at the joke of the ogress, and then slipped out, so that his departure was unnoticed. At that moment when this man retired, and before the door could be shut, Rodolph saw the charcoal-dealer, whose black face and tall form we have already alluded to, and he had just time to manifest to him, by an impatient gesture, how much he disliked his watchful attendance; but the charcoal-man did not appear to heed this in the least, and still kept hanging about the _tapis-franc_. The countenance of the Goualeuse became still more saddened; with her back to the wall, her head drooping on her bosom, her full blue eyes gazing mechanically about her, the unfortunate being seemed bowed down with the weight of her oppressive thoughts. Two or three times, having met Rodolph"s fixed look, she turned away, unable to account to herself for the singular impression which the unknown had caused her. Weighed down and abashed at his presence, she almost regretted having made so candid a narrative to him of her unhappy life.
The Chourineur, on the contrary, was quite in high spirits; he had devoured the whole harlequin without the least a.s.sistance; the wine and brandy had made him very communicative; the fact of his having found his master, as he called him, had been forgotten in the generous conduct of Rodolph; and he also detected so decided a physical superiority, that his humiliation had given way to a sentiment of admiration, mingled with fear and respect. This absence of rancour, and the savage pride with which he boasted of never having robbed, proved that the Chourineur was not as yet thoroughly hardened. This had not escaped the sagacity of Rodolph, and he awaited the man"s recital with curiosity.
"Now, my boy," said he, "we are listening."
The Chourineur emptied his gla.s.s, and thus began:
"You, my poor girl, were at last taken to by the Chouette, whom the devil confound! You never had a shelter until the moment when you were imprisoned as a vagabond. I can never recollect having slept in what is called a bed before I was nineteen years of age,--a happy age!--and then I became a trooper."
"What, you have served, then, Chourineur?" said Rodolph.
"Three years; but you will hear all about it: the stones of the Louvre, the lime-kilns of Clichy, and the quarries of Montrouge, these were the hotels of my youth. Then I had my house in Paris and in the country. Who but I--"
"And what was your trade?"
"Faith, master, I have a foggy recollection of having strolled about in my childhood with an old rag-picker, who almost thumped me to death; and it must be true, for I have never since met one of these old Cupids, with a wicker-work quiver, without a longing to pitch into him,--a proof that one of them must have thumped me when I was a child. My first employment was to help the knackers to cut the horses" throats at Montfaucon. I was about ten or twelve. When I began to slash (_chouriner_) these poor old beasts, it had quite an impression on me.
At the month"s end I thought no more about it; on the contrary, I began to like my trade. No one had his knife so sharpened and keen-edged as mine; and that made me rejoice in using it. When I had cut the animals"
throats, they gave me for my trouble a piece of the thigh of some animal that had died of disease; for those that they slaughter are sold to the "cag-mag" shops near the School of Medicine, who convert it into beef, mutton, veal, or game, according to the taste of purchasers. However, when I got to my morsel of horse"s flesh, I was as happy as a king! I went with it into the lime-kiln like a wolf to his lair, and then, with the leave of the lime-burners, I made a glorious fry on the ashes. When the burners were not at work, I picked up some dry wood at Romainville, set light to it, and broiled my steak under the walls of the bone-house.
The meat certainly was b.l.o.o.d.y, and almost raw, but that made a change."
"And your name? What did they call you?" asked Rodolph.
"I had hair much more flaxen than now, and the blood was always in my eyes, and so they called me the "Albino." The Albinos are the white rabbits amongst men; they have red eyes," added the Chourineur, in a grave tone, and, as it were, with a physiological parenthesis.
"And your relations? your family?"
"My relations? Oh! they lodge at the same number as the Goualeuse"s.
Place of my birth? Why, the first corner of no-matter-what street, either on the right or left-hand side of the way, and either going up or coming down the kennel."
"Then you have cursed your father and mother for having abandoned you?"
"Why, that would not have set my leg if I had broken it! No matter; though it"s true they played me a scurvy trick in bringing me into the world. But I should not have complained if they had made me as beggars ought to be made; that is to say, without the sense of cold, hunger, or thirst. Beggars who don"t like thieving would find it greatly to their advantage."
"You were cold, thirsty, hungry, Chourineur, and yet you did not steal?"
"No; and yet I was horribly wretched. It"s a fact, that I have often gone with an empty bread-basket (fasted) for two days at a time: that was more than my share; but I never stole."
"For fear of a gaol?"
"Pooh!" said the Chourineur, shrugging his shoulders, and laughing loudly, "I should then not have stolen bread, for fear of getting my allowance, eh? An honest man, I was famishing; a thief, I should have been supported in prison, and right well, too! But I did not steal, because--because--why, because the idea of stealing never came across me; so that"s all about it!"
This reply, n.o.ble as it was in itself, but of the rect.i.tude of which the Chourineur himself had no idea, perfectly astonished Rodolph. He felt that the poor fellow who had remained honest in the midst of the most cruel privations was to be respected twofold, since the punishment of the crime became a certain resource for him. Rodolph held out his hand to this ill-used savage of civilisation, whom misery had been unable wholly to corrupt. The Chourineur looked at his host in astonishment,--almost with respect; he hardly dared to touch the hand tendered to him. He felt impressed with some vague idea that there was a wide abyss between Rodolph and himself.
""Tis well," said Rodolph to him, "you have heart and honour."
"Heart? honour? what, I? Come, now, don"t chaff me," he replied, with surprise.
"To suffer misery and hunger rather than steal, is to have heart and honour," said Rodolph, gravely.
"Well, it may be," said the Chourineur, as if thinking, "it may be so."
"Does it astonish you?"
"It really does; for people don"t usually say such things to me; they generally treat me as they would a mangy dog. It"s odd, though, the effect what you say has on me. Heart! honour!" he repeated, with an air which was actually pensive.
"Well, what ails you?"
"I" faith, I don"t know," replied the Chourineur, in a tone of emotion; "but these words, do you see, they quite make my heart beat; and I feel more flattered than if any one told me I was a "better man" than either the Skeleton or the Schoolmaster. I never felt anything like it before.
Be sure, though, that these words, and the blows of the fist at the end of my tussle,--you did lay "em on like a good "un,--not alluding to what you pay for the supper, and the words you have said--in a word," he exclaimed, bluntly, as if he could not find language to express his thoughts, "make sure that in life or death you may depend on the Chourineur."
Rodolph, unwilling to betray his emotion, replied in a tone as calm as he could a.s.sume, "How long did you go on as an amateur knacker?"
"Why, at first, I was quite sick of cutting up old worn-out horses, who could not even kick; but when I was about sixteen, and my voice began to get rough, it became a pa.s.sion--a taste--a relish--a rage--with me to cut and slash. I did not care for anything but that; not even eating and drinking. You should have seen me in the middle of my work! Except an old pair of woollen trousers, I was quite naked. When, with my large and well-whetted knife in my hand, I had about me fifteen or twenty horses waiting their turn, by Jupiter! when I began to slaughter them, I don"t know what possessed me,--I was like a fury. My ears had singing in them, and I saw everything _red_,--all was red; and I slashed, and slashed, and slashed, until my knife fell from my hands! Thunder! what happiness!
Had I had millions, I could have paid them to have enjoyed my trade!"
"It is that which has given you the habit of stabbing," said Rodolph.
"Very likely; but when I was turned of sixteen, the pa.s.sion became so strong that when I once began slashing, I became mad; I spoiled my work; yes, I spoiled the skins, because I slashed and cut them across and across; for I was so furious that I could not see clearly. At last they turned me out of the yard. I wanted employment with the butchers, for I have always liked that sort of business. Well, they quite looked down upon me; they despised me as a shoemaker does a cobbler. Then I had to seek my bread elsewhere, and I didn"t find it very readily; and this was the time when my bread-basket was so often empty. At length I got employment in the quarries at Montrouge; but, at the end of two years, I was tired of going always around like a squirrel in his cage, and drawing stone for twenty sous a day. I was tall and strong, and so I enlisted in a regiment. They asked my name, my age, and my papers. My name?--the Albino. My age?--look at my beard. My papers?--here"s the certificate of the master quarryman. As I was just the fellow for a grenadier, they took me."
"With your strength, courage, and taste for chopping and slashing, you ought, in war-time, to have been made an officer."
"Thunder and lightning! what do you say? What! to cut up English or Prussians! Why, that would have been better than to cut up old horses; but, worse luck, there was no war, but a great deal of discipline. An apprentice tries to hit his master a thump; well, if he be the weaker, why, he gets the worst of it; if he be the stronger, he has the best of it; he is turned out-of-doors, perhaps put into the cage,--and that is all. In the army it is quite a different thing. One day our sergeant had bullied me a good deal, to make me more attentive,--he was right, for I was very slow; I did not like a poke he gave me, and I kicked at him; he pushed me again, I returned his poke; he collared me, and I gave him a punch of the head. They fell on me, and then my blood was up in my eyes, and I was enraged in a moment. I had my knife in my hand--I belonged to the cookery--and I "went it my hardest." I cut, slashed,--slashed, chopped, as if I was in the slaughter-house. I made "cold meat" of the sergeant, wounded two soldiers,--it was a real shambles; I gave the three eleven wounds,--yes, eleven. Blood flowed, flowed everywhere, blood, as though we were in the bone-house,--I swam in it--"