December 28.
The idea that Jeanne was obliged to sweep the rooms had becomeabsolutely unbearable.
The weather was dark and cold. Night had already begun. I rang theschool-door bell with the tranquillity of a resolute man. The momentthat the timid servant opened the door, I slipped a gold piece into herhand, and promised her another if she would arrange matters so that Icould see Mademoiselle Alexandre. Her answer was,
"In one hour from now, at the grated window."
And she slammed the door in my face so rudely that she knocked myhat into the gutter. I waited for one very long hour in a violentsnow-storm; then I approached the window. Nothing! The wind raged, andthe snow fell heavily. Workmen passing by with their implements on theirshoulders, and their heads bent down to keep the snow from coming intheir faces, rudely jostled me. Still nothing. I began to fear I hadbeen observed. I knew that I had done wrong in bribing a servant, butI was not a bit sorry for it. Woe to the man who does not know how tobreak through social regulations in case of necessity! Another quarterof an hour passed. Nothing. At last the window was partly opened.
"Is that you, Monsieur Bonnard?"
"Is that you, Jeanne?--tell me at once what has become of you."
"I am well--very well."
"But what else!"
"They have put me in the kitchen, and I have to sweep the school-rooms."
"In the kitchen! Sweeping--you! Gracious goodness!"
"Yes, because my guardian does not pay for my schooling any longer."
"Gracious goodness! Your guardian seems to me to be a thoroughscoundrel."
"Then you know---"
"What?"
"Oh! don't ask me to tell you that!--but I would rather die than findmyself alone with him again."
"And why did you not write to me?"
"I was watched."
At this instant I formed a resolve which nothing in this world couldhave induced me to change. I did, indeed, have some idea that I mightbe acting contrary to law; but I did not give myself the least concernabout that idea. And, being firmly resolved, I was able to be prudent. Iacted with remarkable coolness.
"Jeanne," I asked, "tell me! does that room you are in open into thecourt-yard?"
"Yes."
"Can you open the street-door from the inside yourself?"
"Yes,--if there is nobody in the porter's lodge."
"Go and see if there is any one there, and be careful that nobodyobserves you."
Then I waited, keeping a watch on the door and window.
In six or seven seconds Jeanne reappeared behind the bars, and said,
"The servant is in the porter's lodge."
"Very well," I said, "have you a pen and ink?"
"No."
"A pencil?"
"Yes."
"Pass it out here."
I took an old newspaper out of my pocket, and--in a wind which blewalmost hard enough to put the street-lamps out, in a downpour of snowwhich almost blinded me--I managed to wrap up and address that paper toMademoiselle Prefere.
While I was writing I asked Jeanne,
"When the postman passes he puts the papers and letters in the box,doesn't he? He rings the bell and goes away? Then the servant opens theletter-box and takes whatever she finds there to Mademoiselle Prefereimmediately; is not that about the way the thing is managed wheneveranything comes by post?"
Jeanne thought it was.
"Then we shall soon see. Jeanne, go and watch again; and, as soon as theservant leaves the lodge, open the door and come out here to me."
Having said this, I put my newspaper in the box, gave the bell atremendous pull, and then hid myself in the embrasure of a neighbouringdoor.
I might have been there several minutes, when the little door quivered,then opened, and a young girl's head made its appearance through theopening. I took hold of it; I pulled it towards me.
"Come, Jeanne! come!"
She stared at me uneasily. Certainly she must have been afraid that Ihad gone mad; but, on the contrary, I was very rational indeed.
"Come, my child! come!"
"Where?"
"To Madame de Gabry's."
Then she took my arm. For some time we ran like a couple of thieves.But running is an exercise ill-suited to one as corpulent as I am,and, finding myself out of breath at last, I stopped and leaned uponsomething which turned out to be the stove of a dealer in roastedchestnuts, who was doing business at the corner of a wine-seller's shop,where a number of cabmen were drinking. One of them asked us if wedid not want a cab. Most assuredly we wanted a cab! The driver, aftersetting down his glass on the zinc counter, climbed upon his seat andurged his horse forward. We were saved.
"Phew!" I panted, wiping my forehead. For, in spite of the cold, I wasperspiring profusely.
What seemed very odd was that Jeanne appeared to be much more consciousthan I was of the enormity which we had committed. She looked veryserious indeed, and was visibly uneasy.
"In the kitchen!" I cried out, with indignation.
She shook her head, as if to say, "Well, there or anywhere else, whatdoes it matter to me?" And by the light of the street-lamps, I observedwith pain that her face was very thin and her features all pinched. Idid not find in her any of that vivacity, any of those bright impulses,any of that quickness of expression, which used to please me so much.Her gaze had become timid, her gestures constrained, her whole attitudemelancholy. I took her hand--a little cold hand, which had become allhardened and bruised. The poor child must have suffered very much. Iquestioned her. She told me very quietly that Mademoiselle Preferehad summoned her one day, and called her a little monster and a littleviper, for some reason which she had never been able to learn.
She had added, "You shall not see Monsieur Bonnard any more; for hehas been giving you bad advice, and he has conducted himself in a mostshameful manner towards me." "I then said to her, 'That, Mademoiselle,you will never be able to make me believe.' Then Mademoiselle slapped myface and sent me back to the school-room. The announcement that I shouldnever be allowed to see you again made me feel as if night had come downupon me. Don't you know those evenings when one feels so sad to seethe darkness come?--well, just imagine such a moment stretched out intoweeks--into whole months! Don't you remember my little Saint-George? Upto that time I had worked at it as well as I could--just simply to workat it--just to amuse myself. But when I lost all hope of ever seeing youagain I took my little wax figure, and I began to work at it in quiteanother way. I did not try to model it with wooden matches any more, asI had been doing, but with hair pins. I even made use of epingles a laneige. But perhaps you do not know what epingles a la neige are? Well,I became more particular about than you can possibly imagine. I put adragon on Saint-George's helmet; and I passed hours and hours in makinga head and eyes and tail for the dragon. Oh the eyes! the eyes, aboveall! I never stopped working at them till I got them so that they hadred pupils and white eye-lids and eye-brows and everything! I know I amvery silly; I had an idea that I was going to die as soon as my littleSaint-George would be finished. I worked at it during recreation-hours,and Mademoiselle Prefere used to let me alone. One day I learned thatyou were in the parlour with the schoolmistress; I watched for you; wesaid 'Au revoir!' that day to each other. I was a little consoled byseeing you. But, some time after that, my guardian came and wanted tomake me go to his house,--but please don't ask me why, Monsieur. Heanswered me, quite gently, that I was a very whimsical little girl. Andthen he left me alone. But the next day Mademoiselle Prefere came to mewith such a wicked look on her face that I was really afraid. She hada letter in her hand. 'Mademoiselle,' she said to me, 'I am informedby your guardian that he has spent all the money which belonged toyou. Don't be afraid! I do not intend to abandon you; but, you mustacknowledge yourself, it is only right that you should earn your ownlivelihood.' Then she put me to work house-cleaning; and whenever I madea mistake she would lock me up in the garet for days together. And thatis what has happened to me since I
saw you last. Even if I had been ableto write to you I do not know whether I should have done it, because Idid not think you could possibly take me away from the school; and, asMaitre Mouche did not come back to see me, there was no hurry. I thoughtI could wait for awhile in the garret and the kitchen.
"Jeanne," I cried, "even if we should have to flee to Oceania, theabominable Prefere shall never get hold of you again. I will take agreat oath on that! And why should we not go to Oceania? The climateis very healthy; and I read in a newspaper the other day that they havepianos there. But, in the meantime, let us go to the house of Madame deGabry, who returned to Paris, as luck would have it, some three or fourdays ago; for you and I are two innocent fools, and we have great needof some one to help us."
Even as I was speaking Jeanne's features suddenly became pale, andseemed to shrink into lifelessness; her eyes became all dim; her lips,half open, contracted with an expression of pain. Then her head sanksideways on her shoulder;--she had fainted.
I lifter her in my arms, and carried her up Madame de Gabry's staircaselike a little baby asleep. But I was myself on the point of faintingfrom emotional excitement and fatigue together, when she came to herselfagain.
"Ah! it is you." she said: "so much the better!"
Such was our condition when we rang our friend's door-bell.
Same day.
It was eight o'clock. Madame de Gabry, as might be supposed, was verymuch surprised by our unexpected appearance. But she welcomed the oldman and the child with that glad kindness which always expresses itselfin her beautiful gestures. It seems to me,--if I might use the languageof devotion so familiar to her,--it seems to me as though some heavenlygrace streams from her hands when ever she opens them; and even theperfume which impregnates her robes seems to inspire the sweet calm zealof charity and good works. Surprised she certainly was; but she asked usno question,--and that silence seemed to me admirable.
"Madame," I said to her, "we have both come to place ourselves underyour protection. And, first of all, we are going to ask you to give ussome super--or to give Jeanne some, at least; for a moment ago, in thecarriage, she fainted from weakness. As for myself, I could not eat abite at this late hour without passing a night of agony in consequence.I hope that Monsieur de Gabry is well."
"Oh, he is here!" she said.
And she called him immediately.
"Come in here, Paul! Come and see Monsieur Bonnard and MademoiselleAlexandre."
He came. It was a pleasure for me to see his frank broad face, and topress his strong square hand. Then we went, all four of us, into thedining-room; and while some cold meat was being cut for Jeanne--whichshe never touched notwithstanding--I related our adventure. Paul deGabry asked me permission to smoke his pipe, after which he listened tome in silence. When I had finished my recital he scratched the short,stiff beard upon his chin, and uttered a tremendous "Sacrebleu!" But,seeing Jeanne stare at each of us in turn, with a frightened look in herface, he added:
"We will talk about this matter to-morrow morning. Come into my studyfor a moment; I have an old book to show you that I want you to tell mesomething about."
I followed him into his study, where the steel of guns and huntingknives, suspended against the dark hangings, glimmered in thelamp-light. There, pulling me down beside him upon a leather-coveredsofa, he exclaimed,
"What have you done? Great God! Do you know what you have done?Corruption of a minor, abduction, kidnapping! You have got yourself intoa nice mess! You have simply rendered yourself liable to a sentence ofimprisonment of not less than five nor more than ten years."
"Mercy on us!" I cried; "ten years imprisonment for having saved aninnocent child."
"That is the law!" answered Monsieur de Gabry. "You see, my dearMonsieur Bonnard, I happen to know the Code pretty well--not because Iever studied law as a profession, but because, as mayor of Lusance, Iwas obliged to teach myself something about it in order to be able togive information to my subordinates. Mouche is a rascal; that womanPrefere is a vile hussy; and you are a...Well! I really cannot find aword strong enough to signify what you are!"
After opening his bookcase, where dog-collars, riding-whips, stirrups,spurs, cigar-boxes, and a few books of reference were indiscriminatelystowed away, he took out of it a copy of the Code, and began to turnover the leaves.
"'CRIMES AND MISDEMEANOURS'...'SEQUESTRATION OF PERSONS'--that isnot your case.... 'ABDUCTION OF MINORS'--here we are....'ARTICLE354':--'Whosever shall, either by fraud or violence, have abducted orhave caused to be abducted any minor or minors, or shall have enticedthem, or turned them away from, or forcibly removed them, or shall havecaused them to be enticed, or turned away from or forcibly removed fromthe places in which they have been placed by those to whose authority ordirection they have been submitted or confided, shall be liable to thepenalty of imprisonment. See PENAL CODE, 21 and 28.' Here is 21:--'Theterm of imprisonment shall not be less than five years.' 28. 'Thesentence of imprisonment shall be considered as involving a loss ofcivil rights.' Now all that is very plain, is it not, Monsieur Bonnard?"
"Perfectly plain."
"Now let us go on: 'ARTICLE 356':--'In case the abductor be under theage of 21 years at the time of the offense, he shall only be punishedwith'...But we certainly cannot invoke this article in your favour.'ARTICLE 357:':--'In case the abductor shall have married the girlby him abducted, he can only be prosecuted at the insistence of suchpersons as, according to the Civil Code, may have the right to demandthat the marriage shall be declared null; nor can he be condemned untilafter the nullity of the marriage shall have been pronounced.' I do notknow whether it is a part of your plans to marry Mademoiselle Alexandre!You can see that the code is good-natured about it; it leaves you onedoor of escape. But no--I ought not to joke with you, because really youhave put yourself in a very unfortunate position! And how could a manlike you imagine that here in Paris, in the middle of the nineteenthcentury, a young girl can be abducted with absolute impunity? We are notliving in the Middle Ages now; and such things are no longer permittedby law."
"You need not imagine," I replied, "that abduction was lawful under theancient Code. You will find in Baluze a decree issued by King Cheldebertat Cologne, either in 593 or 594, on the subject: moreover, everybodyknows that the famous 'Ordonance de Blois,' of May 1579, formallyenacted that any persons convicted of having suborned any son ordaughter under the age of twenty-five years, whether under promise ofmarriage or otherwise, without the full knowledge, will, or consent ofthe father, mother, and guardians, should be punished with death; andthe ordinance adds: 'Et pareillement seront punis extraordinairementtous ceux qui auront participe audit rapt, et qui auront prete conseil,confort, et aide en aucune maniere que ce soit.' (And in like mannershall be extraordinarily punished all persons whomsoever, who shall haveparticipated in the said abduction, and who shall have given thereuntocounsel, succor, or aid in any manner whatsoever.) Those are the exact,or very nearly the exact, terms of the ordinance. As for that article ofthe Code-Napoleon which you have just told me of, and which exceptsfrom liability to prosecution the abductor who marries the young girlabducted by him, it reminds me that according to the laws of Bretagne,forcible abduction, followed by marriage, was not punished. But thisusage, which involved various abuses, was suppressed in 1720--at least Igive you the date within ten years. My memory is not very good now,and the time is long passed when I could repeat by heart without evenstopping to take breath, fifteen hundred verses of Girart de Rousillon.
"As far as regards the Capitulary of Charlemagne, which fixes thecompensation for abduction, I have not mentioned it because I am surethat you must remember it. So, my dear Monsieur de Gabry, you seeabduction was considered as decidedly a punishable offense under thethree dynasties of Old France. It is a very great mistake to supposethat the Middle Ages represent a period of social chaos. You mustremember, on the contrary---"
Monsieur de Gabry here interrupted me:
"So," he exclaimed, "you know of the Ordonnacne de B
lois, you knowBaluze, you know Childebert, you know the Capitularies--and you don'tknow anything about the Code-Napoleon!"
I replied that, as a matter of fact, I never had read the Code; and helooked very much surprised.
"And now do you understand," he asked, "the extreme gravity of theaction you have committed?"
I had not indeed been yet able to understand it fully. But little bylittle, with the aid of Monsieur Paul's very sensible explanations, Ireached the conviction at last that I should not be judged in regard tomy motives, which were innocent, but only according to my action, whichwas punishable. Thereupon I began to feel very despondent, and to utterdivers lamentations.
"What am I to do?" I cried out, "what am I to do? Am I thenirretrievably ruined?--and have I also ruined the poor child whom Iwanted to save?"
Monsieur de Gabry silently filled his pipe, and lighted it so slowlythat his kind broad face remained for at least three or four minutesglowing red behind the light, like a blacksmith's in the gleam of hisforge-fire. Then he said,
"You want to know what to do? Why, don't do anything, my dear MonsieurBonnard! For God's sake, and for your own sake, don't do anything atall! Your situation is bad enough as it is; don't try to meddle with itnow, unless you want to create new difficulties for yourself. But youmust promise me to sustain me in any action that I may take. I shall goto see Monsieur Mouche the very first thing to-morrow morning; and ifhe turns out to be what I think he is--that is to say, a consummaterascal--I shall very soon find means of making him harmless, even if thedevil himself should take sides with him. For everything depends on him.As it is too late this evening to take Mademoiselle Jeanne back to herboarding-school, my wife will keep the young lady here to-night. This ofcourse plainly constitues the misdemeanour of complicity; but it savesthe girl from anything like an equivocal position. As for you, my dearMonsieur, you just go back to the Quai Malaquais as quickly as you can;and if they come to look for Jeanne there, it will be very easy for youto prove she is not in your house."
While we were thus talking, Madame de Gabry was preparing to make heryoung lodger comfortable for the night. When she bade me good-bye at thedoor, she was carrying a pair of clean sheets, scented with lavender,thrown over her arm.
"That," I said, "is a sweet honest smell."
"Well, of course," answered Madame de Gabry, "you must remember we arepeasants."
"Ah!" I answered her, "heaven grant that I also may be able one of thesedays to become a peasant! Heaven grant that one of these days I maybe able, as you are at Lusance, to inhale the sweet fresh odour of thecountry, and live in some little house all hidden among trees; and ifthis wish of mine be too ambitious on the part of an old man whose lifeis nearly closed, then I will only wish that my winding-sheet may be assweetly scented with lavender as that linen you have on your arm."
It was agreed that I should come to lunch the following morning. ButI was positively forbidden to show myself at the house before midday.Jeanne, as she kissed me good-bye, begged me not to take her back to theschool any more. We felt much affected at parting, and very anxious.
I found Therese waiting for me on the landing, in such a condition ofworry about me that it had made her furious. She talked of nothing lessthan keeping me under lock and key in the future.
What a night I passed! I never closed my eyes for one single instant.From time to time I could not help laughing like a boy at the success ofmy prank; and then again, an inexpressible feeling of horror would comeupon me at the thought of being dragged before some magistrate, andhaving to take my place upon the prisoner's bench, to answer for thecrime which I had so naturally committed. I was very much afraid; andnevertheless I felt no remorse or regret whatever. The sun, coming intomy room at last, merrily lighted upon the foot of my bed, and then Imade this prayer:
"My God, Thou who didst make the sky and the dew, as it is said in'Tristan,' judge me in Thine equity, not indeed according unto my acts,but according only to my motives, which Thou knowest have been uprightand pure; and I will say: Glory to Thee in heaven, and peace on earth tomen of good-will. I give into Thy hands the child I stole away. Do thatfor her which I have not known how to do; guard for her from all herenemies;--and blessed for ever be Thy name!"
The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard Page 34