"But this second consolation has been much shaken by the constables calling this very morning at the cookshop to take you into custody, and carry you to the Bicetre Prison, to break stones for a year or two. It was Catherine who denounced you to M. de la Gueritude, but you must not blame her for it; she did her duty as a Christian by confessing the truth. She accused you and the Abbe Coignard of being M. d'Anquetil's accomplices, and gave a faithful account of all the murder and bloodshed perpetrated in the course of that terrible night. Alas! her truthfulness was of no use; she was carried to the spittel. It's downright horrible to think of it."

At this point of his story, the little friar covered his face with his hands and sobbed and cried anew.

Night had come, and I was afraid to fail in my appointment. Pulling the little friar out of the ditch, I put him on his feet, and wished him to keep me company on my walk along the Saint Germain road to the Circus of the Bergeres. He obeyed me willingly. Sadly walking by my side, he asked my a.s.sistance in disentangling the mixed-up threads of his thoughts.

I put him back to where the constables came to search for me at the cookshop.

"As they could not find you," he continued, "they wanted to take your father. Master Leonard pretended he did not know where you were hidden.

Your mother said the same, and took her sacred oath on it. May G.o.d forgive her, Monsieur Jacques, as evidently she perjured herself. The constables began to get cross. Your father reasoned well with them, and took them to have a drink with him, after which they parted quite friendly. Meanwhile your mother went after me to the _Three Maids_, where I was soliciting alms according to the holy rules of my order. She sent me to you to warn you that immediate flight is your only safety, as the Lieutenant of Police would soon discover your retreat."

Listening to this sad news, I walked with a quicker step, and we pa.s.sed the bridge of Neuilly.

On the rather steep hill leading to the circus, the elms of which soon became visible, the little friar said with a dying voice:

"Your mother particularly asked me to warn you of the danger you are in, and handed to me a little bag she had secreted under her dress. I cannot find it," he added, after having felt all over his body. "How do you expect me to find anything after losing Catherine? She was devoted to Saint Francis, and lavish of alms, and now they have treated her like a harlot, and will shave her head; it's heartbreaking to think that she will look like a milliner's doll, and be shipped in that state to America, where she runs the risk of dying by fever and being eaten by cannibal savages."

When he ended this discourse with a sigh we had reached the circus. To the left, the inn of the _Red Horse_ showed its roof over a double row of elms, its dormer windows with their pulleys, while under the foliage the gateway was to be seen wide open.

I slackened my walk, and the little friar sat down on the roots of a tree.

"Friar Ange," I said to him, "you mentioned a satchel my dear mother handed you for me."

"Quite right; she wished me so to do," replied the little Capuchin, "and I have put it somewhere so safely that I cannot remember where, and you ought to know, Monsieur Jacques, that I could not have lost it for any other reason but from too much carefulness."

I rather sharply said that I did not believe he had lost the satchel, and should he not find it at once I would search for it myself.

He understood and, sighing deeply, brought out from under his frock a little bag made of coloured calico, and handed it to me. It contained a crown piece and a medal with the effigy of the Black Virgin of Chartres, which I kissed fervently, shedding tears of tenderness and repentance.

The little friar took out of his large pockets a parcel of coloured prints and prayers, badly illuminated, made a rapid selection, and gave me two or three of them, those he considered the most useful to pilgrims, travellers, and all wandering people, saying:

"They are blessed and of good effect against danger of death and sickness. You have only to recite the text printed on them, or to lay them on the skin of your body, I give them to you, M. Jacques, for the love of G.o.d. Do not forget to give me an alms. Keep in mind that I beg in the name of Saint Francis. He'll protect you, without fail, if you a.s.sist the most unworthy of his sons, and that is precisely myself."

Listening to his speech, I saw in the doubtful twilight a post-chaise and four come out of the gateway of the _Red Horse_ inn, heard the whips cracking and the horses pawing the ground when the driver stopped on the highroad, close to the tree on the roots of which Friar Ange was sitting. It was not an ordinary post-chaise, but a very large, clumsy vehicle, having room to seat four, and a small coupe in front. I looked at it for a minute or two, when up the hill came M. d'Anquetil, with Jahel, carrying several parcels under her cloak and wearing a mob-cap.

M. Coignard followed them, loaded with five or six books wrapped up in an old thesis. When they reached the carriage the post boys lowered the carriage steps, and my beautiful mistress, raising her skirt like a balloon, ascended into the carriage, pushed from behind by M.

d'Anquetil.

I ran towards them and shouted:

"Stop, Jahel! Stop, sir!"

But the seducer only pushed the perfidious girl the more, and her charming rounded figure quickly disappeared. Preparing himself to climb after her, one foot on the steps, he looked at me with surprise.

"Oh! Monsieur Tournebroche! You would then take from me all my mistresses! Jahel after Catherine. Do you do it for a wager?"

But I did not hear what he said, and continued to call Jahel, the while Friar Ange, having risen from his seat under the elm-tree, came up to the carriage door, and offered to M. d'Anquetil pictures of Saint Roch, a prayer to be recited during the shoeing of a horse, another against fever, and asked him for charity with a mournful voice.

I should have stopped there the whole of the night, calling Jahel, if my good tutor had not got hold of me and pushed me inside the large compartment of the carriage, which he entered after me.

"Let them have the _coupe_ by themselves," he said to me, "and let us travel in the large compartment. I have been looking for you, Tournebroche, and, not to withhold anything from you, had quite made up my mind to depart without you when, happily, I discovered you in company with the Capuchin under yonder elm-tree. We could not delay any longer, as M. de la Gueritude has given sharp orders to look everywhere for us.

He has a long arm, having lent money to the king."

The carriage was moving on, but Friar Ange clung to the door, with hand outstretched, begging pitifully.

I sank into the cushions.

"Alas, sir," I exclaimed, "did you not tell me that Jahel was locked in threefold?"

"My son," replied my good master, "not too much confidence may be placed in women, who always play their tricks on the jealous and their locks.

If the door is closed, they jump out of the window. You have no idea, my dear Tournebroche, of the cunning of women. The ancients have reported admirable examples of it, and many a one you'll find in Apuleius, where they are sprinkled like salt in the 'Metamorphoses.' But the best example is given in an Arabian tale recently brought to Europe by M.

Galand, and which I will tell you.

"Schariar, Sultan of Tartary, and his brother, Schahzenan, walked one day on the seash.o.r.e, when they saw rise suddenly above the waves a black column, moving towards the sh.o.r.e. They recognised it as a genie of the most ferocious kind, in the form of an immensely tall giant, carrying on his head a gla.s.s case locked with four iron locks. Both were seized with dismay, so much so that they hid themselves in the fork of a tree standing near. The genie however came on sh.o.r.e, and brought the gla.s.s case to the tree where the two princes were hiding. Then he lay down and soon went to sleep. His outstretched legs reached the sea, and his breathing shook earth and heaven. During his terrifying repose the cover of the gla.s.s case rose by itself, and out of it came a woman with a majestic body and of the most perfect beauty. She raised her head--"

Here I interrupted his narrative, which I had hardly-listened to, and exclaimed:

"Ah! sir, what do you think Jahel and M. d'Anquetil are saying at this moment, all by themselves in the _coupe_?'

"I don't know," replied my dear tutor: "it's their business, not ours.

But let me finish the Arabian tale, which is full of sense. You've interrupted me inconsiderately, Tournebroche, at the very moment when the damsel, looking up, discovered the two princes in the tree. She made them a sign to come down; but desirous as they were to respond to the appeal of a person of so much beauty, they were afraid to approach so terrible a giant. Seeing that they hesitated she said to them in an undertone: 'Come down at once, or I wake up the genie.' Her resolute and resolved countenance made them understand that it was not a vain threat, and that the safest, as also the most pleasant, thing to do was to go down without delay, which they did as quietly as possible, so as not to wake the giant. The lady, taking their hands, led them somewhat farther away under the trees, and gave them to understand very clearly that she was ready at once to give herself to both. Gracefully they accepted the beauty's offer, and as they were men of courage, fear did not spoil their enjoyment. Having obtained from both what she had wished for, and seeing that each of the two princes wore a ring, she asked them for their rings. Returning to the gla.s.s case where she lived, she took out of it a chaplet of rings, and showed it to the princes.

"Do you know what is the meaning of this chaplet of rings? They are those of all the men for whom I have had the same kindness as for you.

Their number, all told, is ninety-eight. I keep them as souvenirs, for that same reason, and to complete the century I have asked for yours.

And now to-day I have had a full hundred lovers, in spite of the vigilance and care of yonder giant, who never leaves me. He may lock me in the gla.s.s case as much as he likes, and hide me in the depths of the sea. I deceive him as often as I please."

"That ingenious apologue," added my good tutor, "shows you that the women of the Orient, who are shut up and cloistered, are as cunning as their sisters of the Occident, who are free of their movements. Whenever a woman wants something there is no husband, lover, father, uncle, or tutor able to prevent her carrying out her will. And therefore, my dear boy, you ought not to be surprised that to deceive that old Mordecai was but child's play for Jahel, whose perverse spirit is made up of all the cuteness of our she-geldings and the perfidy of the Orient. I guess her to be as ardent in sensual pleasure, as greedy after gold and silver; altogether a worthy descendant of the race of Aholah and Aholibah.

"She is of an acid and mordant beauty, and I do not deny that somehow she excites me, although age, sublime meditations, and the miseries of an agitated life have sufficiently mortified in me the l.u.s.t of the flesh. You're suffering over the success of M. d'Anquetil's adventure with her, wherefore I reckon that you feel much more than I do the sharp tooth of desire, and that jealousy is tearing you. And that's the reason you blame an action, irregular certainly, contrary to vulgar propriety, but withal indifferent in character, or at least not adding much to the universal evil. Inwardly you condemn me for having had a part in it, and you fancy you defend the principle of chaste living when you do nothing except from the prompting of your pa.s.sions. Such is the way, my dear boy, that we colour for the use of our own eyes our worst instincts.

Human morals have no other origin. Confess, however, that it would have been a pity to leave such a fine girl for a single day longer with that old lunatic. Acknowledge that M. d'Anquetil, young and handsome, is a better mate for such a delicious creature, and resign yourself to accept what cannot be altered. Such wisdom is difficult to practise; but it would have been more difficult still, had your own mistress been taken from you. In such a case you'd feel the iron teeth torture your flesh, filling your soul with images odious and precise. This consideration, my boy, ought to ease your present sufferings. Besides, life is full of labour and pain. It is this which evokes in us the just hope of an eternal beat.i.tude."

Thus spoke my good tutor, while the elms of the king's highway pa.s.sed quickly before our eyes. I did not let him know that he irritated my griefs in trying to soothe them, and that he, without being aware of it, had laid his finger on my wound.

Our first stoppage was at Juvisy, where we arrived in the rain early in the morning. Entering the post inn I found Jahel in the corner of the fireplace, where five or six fowls were roasting on a spit. She was warming her feet, and showed part of a silken stocking, which was a great trouble to me, because it brought her leg to my mind. I seemed to see all the beauty of her satin skin, the down, and all other striking circ.u.mstances. M. d'Anquetil was leaning on the back of the chair whereon she was sitting, holding her cheeks with his hands. He called her his soul and his life, asked her if she was hungry, and on her saying yes, he went out to give the necessary orders.

Remaining alone with the unfaithful one I looked in her eyes, which reflected the flames of the fire.

"Ah! Jahel," I exclaimed, "I am very unhappy; you have betrayed me, and you no longer love me."

"Who says that I do not love you any more?" she asked, and looked at me with her velvety eyes of flame.

"Alas! mademoiselle, your conduct shows it sufficiently."

"But, Jacques, could you envy the trousseau of Dutch linen and the G.o.droon plate that the gentleman is to present me with! I only ask for your forbearance till he has fulfilled his promises, and after that you'll see that I am still to you as I was at the Croix-des-Sablons."

"And in the meantime, Jahel? Alas! he will enjoy your favours."

"I feel," she replied, "that that will be a trifle, and that nothing will efface the strength of the feeling you have inspired me with. Do not torment yourself with such mere nothings; they are only of value by your idea of them."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, "my idea of them is horrible, and I am really afraid that I shall not be able to survive your treachery."

She looked at me with a somewhat mocking sympathy, and said with a smile: