by Eugène Sue
“Pardieu! Quite the contrary,” said the guardian. “What an amusing devil that Pique-Vinaigre is!”
At this instant the chimes went half past three o’clock. The Skeleton and Gros-Boiteux exchanged significant glances. The time was drawing on, and the surveillant did not go; and some of the less hardened prisoners seemed almost to forget the sinister projects of the Skeleton against Germain, as they listened attentively to Pique-Vinaigre’s recital.
“When I say,” he continued, “that Gringalet prevented the larger brutes from eating the smaller, you must understand that Gringalet did not mix himself up with tigers, and lions, and wolves, or even foxes and monkeys, in the menagerie of Cut-in-Half, — he was too much of a coward for that; but if he saw, for instance, a spider hidden in his web, in wait for a poor foolish fly flying gaily in the sunshine of the good God, without hurting any one, why, in a moment, Gringalet smashed the web, freed the fly, and did for the spider like a regular Cæsar, — a real Cæsar; for he turned as white as a sheet in touching such nasty reptiles; and then it required resolution in him, who was afraid of a cockchafer, and had been a long while in forming an intimacy with the tortoise which Cut-in-Half handed to him every morning. Thus Gringalet, overcoming the fear which the spider caused him, in order to prevent flies from being eaten, proved himself—”
“As plucky in his way as a man who attacks a wolf to take a lamb from his jaws,” said the prisoner in the blue cap.
“Or a man who would have attacked Cut-in-Half to take Gringalet from his clutches,” added Barbillon, who was deeply interested.
“As you say,” continued Pique-Vinaigre; “so that after one of these onslaughts Gringalet did not feel himself so unhappy. He who never laughed, smiled, looked about him, cocked his cap on one side (when he had one), and hummed the ‘Marseillaise’ with the air of a conqueror. At this moment, there was not a spider that dared to look him in the face. Another time it was a grasshopper which was swimming and struggling in a brook; in a moment, Gringalet put his two fingers boldly in the water and rescued the grasshopper, which he put on the grass. A first-class swimmer, who had fished up his tenth drowning man at fifty francs a head, could not have been prouder than Gringalet when he saw his grasshopper bend his legs and jump away. And yet the grasshopper gave him neither money nor medal, nor uttered any more thanks than did the fly. But then, Pique-Vinaigre, worthy friend, the honourable company will say to me, what the devil pleasure could Gringalet, whom all the world thumped and buffeted, find in freeing grasshoppers and destroying spiders? Since people were unkind to him, why did he not take his revenge by doing all the evil in his power? For instance, in giving spiders flies to eat, leaving grasshoppers to drown, or even drowning them on purpose?”
“Yes, why not? Why did he not revenge himself in that way?” asked Nicholas.
“What good would that have been?” inquired another.
“Why, to do ill, as ill was done to him.”
“No! Well, then, I understand he liked to save the flies, poor little chap!” said the man in a blue cap. “He said, perhaps, ‘Who knows if some day they mayn’t save me in the same way?’”
“My right worthy friend is right,” cried Pique-Vinaigre, “and has read in his heart what I was about to narrate to the honourable assembly. Gringalet was not wicked; he did not see beyond the end of his nose; but he said,’Cut-in-Half is my spider, and perhaps some day some one will do for me what I do for the other poor little flies, — break his web and take me from his clutches;’ for till then nothing could have induced him to run away from his master; he would as soon have thought of killing himself. However, one day, when neither he nor his tortoise had had a chance, and had not gained between either of them more than three sous, Cut-in-Half beat the poor child very severely, so severely that, ma foi! Gringalet could not stand it any longer; and, tired of being the butt and martyr of everybody, he watched a moment when the trap was open, and, whilst Cut-in-Half was feeding his animals, he slid down the ladder.”
“Oh, so much the better,” said a prisoner.
“But why didn’t he go and complain to the Doyen?” inquired the blue cap; “he would have served Cut-in-Half out.”
“Yes, but he dared not; he was too much afraid, and preferred trying to escape. Unfortunately, Cut-in-Half had seen him, and, seizing him by the wrist, lugged him up again into the loft. Poor Gringalet, thinking of what must befall him, shuddered all over, although he was by no means at the end of his troubles. Apropos of Gringalet’s troubles, I must now mention to you Gargousse, the large and favourite ape of Cut-in-Half. This mischievous brute was, ma foi! taller than Gringalet; only imagine what a size for a monkey! I must tell you why he was never taken into the streets to be shown, like the other animals of the menagerie: it was because Gargousse was so wicked and powerful that there was not one amongst all the show-boys, except an Auvergnat of fourteen, a determined chap, who, after many skirmishes and contests with Gargousse, had mastered him, and could lead him about with a chain; and even with him Gargousse frequently got up some fights, which ended in bloodshed produced by Gargousse’s bites. Enraged at this, the little Auvergnat said, one fine day, ‘Very well, I will revenge myself on this infernal monkey;’ and so, one morning, having gone out with the brute as usual, he, in order to appease its savageness, bought a sheep’s heart. Whilst Gargousse was eating it, he put a rope through the end of his chain, tied it to a tree, and, when he had got the brute quite at his mercy, he gave it an outrageous walloping.”
“Well done! Bravo the Auvergnat! Go it, my lad! Skin the beast alive!” said the prisoners.
“He did whack him gloriously!” continued Pique-Vinaigre. “And you should have seen how Gargousse cried, ground his teeth, leaped, danced, and skipped hither and thither; but the Auvergnat used his stick famously! Unfortunately, monkeys, like cats, are very tenacious of life. Gargousse was as crafty as he was vicious; and when he saw, as they say, how the wood was on fire, at a heavy blow he made a final bound, and fell flat at the foot of a tree, shook for a moment, and then shammed dead, lying as motionless as a log. The Auvergnat believed he had done for him, and, thinking the ape dead, he cut away, resolved never again to return to Cut-in-Half. But the beast Gargousse watched him out of the corner of his eye, and, bruised and wounded as he was, as soon as he saw himself alone he rent the cord asunder with his teeth. The Boulevard Monceaux, where he had had this hiding, was close to La Petite Pologne, and the monkey knew his way as easy as his paternoster; and, making off in that direction, arrived at his master’s, who roared and foamed when he saw how his monkey had been served. This is not all. From this moment Gargousse entertained such a furious revenge against all children that Cut-in-Half, who was not the tenderest soul alive, dared not trust him to any one for fear of an accident; for Gargousse was capable of strangling or devouring a child, and all the little brute-showers, knowing that, would rather be thrashed by Cut-in-Half than go near the monkey.”
“I must really go and eat my soup,” said the turnkey, turning towards the door; “this devil of a Pique-Vinaigre would wheedle a bird down from a tree to hear him! I can’t tell where the deuce he fishes up all he tells!”
“Now, then, the turnkey will go,” said the Skeleton, in a whisper to the Gros-Boiteux. “I’m in such a rage I shake all over! Mind and form a wall all around the informer, — I will take care of the rest!”
“Mind, now, and be good boys!” said the turnkey, turning towards the door.
“As good as images!” replied the Skeleton, coming closer to Germain, whilst the Gros-Boiteux and Nicholas, after having agreed on a signal, made two steps in the same direction.
“Ah, worthy turnkey, you are going at the most interesting moment!” said Pique-Vinaigre, with an air of reproach.
Had it not been for the Gros-Boiteux, who anticipated his intention, and seized him suddenly by the arm, the Skeleton would have rushed on Pique-Vinaigre.
“What! The most interesting moment?” replied the turnkey, turning towards the story-teller.
“Decidedly,” said Pique-Vinaigre; “you do not know all you will lose, — the most delightful portion of the history is now about to commence.”
“Don’t attend to him,” exclaimed the Skeleton, who with difficulty repressed his rage; “he is not in good trim to-day; for my part I think his story very stupid.”
“My story very stupid?” cried Pique-Vinaigre, wounded in his pride as a tale-teller. “Well, turnkey, I beg of you, — I entreat you to remain till the conclusion, which, at most, will not be longer than a quarter of an hour, and as by this time your soup must be cold, why, you haven’t much to lose by a little delay. I will go ahead with my narrative, so that you may still have time to eat your soup before we are locked up for the night.”
“Well, then, I’ll stay, but make haste,” said the turnkey, coming closer towards him.
“You are wise to stay, turnkey,” continued Pique-Vinaigre; “without bragging, you never heard anything like it before, especially the finale, which is the triumph of the ape, and Gringalet escorted in procession by all the little beast-showers and inhabitants of La Petite Pologne. On my word and honour, it is not for the sake of boasting, but it is really superb.”
“Then tell it speedily, my boy,” said the turnkey, returning towards the stove.
The Skeleton shook with rage. He almost despaired of accomplishing his crime. If bedtime arrived, Germain must escape, for he was not in the same dormitory with his implacable enemy, and on the following day Germain was to be in a separate cell.
“So it’s very stupid!” continued Pique-Vinaigre. “Well, the honourable company shall be the judge of that. There could not exist a more vicious brute than the big ape Gargousse, who was even more savage with children than his master. What does Cut-in-Half do to punish Gringalet for trying to run away? You shall know by and by. Well, in the meantime, he seizes on the unhappy child, and locks him into the cock-loft for the night, saying, ‘To-morrow morning, when all your companions are gone out, I will let you see what I do with vagabonds who try to run away from me.’ You may imagine what a wretched night Gringalet passed. He did not close an eye, but kept asking himself what Cut-in-Half meant to do with him, and then he fell asleep. He had a dream, — such a horrid dream, — that is, the beginning of it was, as you shall see. He dreamed that he was one of the very poor flies that he had so often rescued from the spiders’ webs, and that he had fallen into a large and strong web, where he was struggling, — struggling with all his might, without being able to escape. He then saw coming towards him, stealthily and treacherously, a kind of monster, which looked like Cut-in-Half turned into a spider. Poor Gringalet began to struggle again, as you may suppose, but the more he struggled the more he got entangled, like the poor flies. At last the spider came up to him, touched him, and he felt the cold and hairy paws of the horrid beast curl around him and enclose him, intending to devour him. He believed he was dead, when suddenly he heard a kind of clear, ringing, sharp sort of buzzing, and he saw a beautiful golden fly, with a kind of brilliant dart, like a diamond needle, which flew around the spider with a furious air, and a voice (when I say a voice you must imagine a fly’s voice) which said, ‘Poor little fly! You have saved flies! The spider shall not—’ Unfortunately Gringalet jumped up at this moment, and did not see the end of his dream; but yet he was at first somewhat assured, and said to himself, ‘Perhaps the golden fly with the diamond dart would have killed the spider if I had finished the dream.’ But in vain did Gringalet endeavour to make himself easy and take comfort; in proportion as the night ended, his fears renewed, so strongly, that at last he forgot his dream, or, rather, he only remembered the portion which affrighted him, the large web in which he had been caught and enfolded by the spider which resembled Cut-in-Half. You may imagine what a fright he was in; only think — only think — alone, — quite alone, and no one to defend him! In the morning, when he saw daybreak gradually appear through the skylight of the cock-loft, his fears redoubled, and the moment was at hand when he would be alone with Cut-in-Half. He then threw himself on his knees in the middle of the garret, and, weeping bitterly, entreated his comrades to ask Cut-in-Half to forgive him, or else to help him to escape if possible. But some from fear of their master, others from disregard, and some from ill nature, refused what poor Gringalet requested so earnestly.”
“Young scamps!” said the prisoner in the blue cap; “he is to be pitied, so helpless. If he could have defended himself, tooth and nail, it would have been very different, ma foi! If you have fangs, show ’em, boy, and defend your tail!”
“To be sure!” said several prisoners.
“Holloa, there!” exclaimed the Skeleton, unable to conceal his rage, and addressing the Blue Cap; “won’t you hold your jaw? Didn’t I say silence in the stone-jug? Am I captain of the ward or not?”
The Blue Cap’s answer was to look the Skeleton full in the face, and then make that low-lived gesture of the blackguards, which consists in applying the thumb of the right hand to the end of the nose, opening the fingers like a fan, and putting the little finger on the thumb of the left hand, similarly extended. He accompanied this mute reply with so odd a look that many of the prisoners laughed heartily, whilst others, on the contrary, were actually stupefied at the audacity of the new prisoner, so greatly was the Skeleton feared. The latter shook his fist at the new prisoner, and said to him, grinding his teeth:
“We’ll settle this to-morrow!”
“I’ll make the calculation on your nob! I’ll put down seventeen and carry nothing!”
For fear the turnkey should have fresh motive for staying, in order to repress any row, the Skeleton quietly replied:
“That is not what I mean; I am the captain of this room, and ought to be attended to, — ought not I, turnkey?”
“Certainly,” replied the superintendent; “no interruption; and go on, Pique-Vinaigre, and make haste, will you, my lad?”
“Then,” resumed Pique-Vinaigre, “Gringalet, seeing how all the world forsook him, resigned himself to his miserable fate. It was broad day, and all the boys were going out with their animals. Cut-in-Half opened the trap, and called each to give him his morsel of bread. They all descended the ladder, and Gringalet, more dead than alive, squeezed up in a corner of the cock-loft with his tortoise, did not move, but watched his companions as they descended one after the other, and would have given everything he had to have done as they did. At length the last quitted the loft, and then his heart beat quick as he thought his master might forget him. But Cut-in-Half, who was standing at the foot of the ladder, exclaimed in a loud voice, ‘Gringalet! Gringalet!’ ‘Here I am, master.’ ‘Come down directly, or I’ll fetch you!’ added Cut-in-Half; and Gringalet believed his last hour was come. ‘Oh,’ said he to himself as he trembled in all his limbs, and recollected his dream, ‘you are in the web, little fly, the spider is going to eat you!’ After having put his tortoise quietly down on the ground, he said farewell to it, for he had become fond of the creature, and went to the trap, and put his leg on the ladder to go down, when Cut-in-Half, taking hold of his miserable little leg, as thin as a stick, pulled him down so suddenly that Gringalet lost his hold, and fell with his face all down the rounds of the ladder.”
“What a pity it was that the Doyen of La Petite Pologne was not there at that moment! What a dance he could have played to Cut-in-Half!” said the blue nightcap; “it is at such moments as these that a man is always happy and contented to feel how useful it is sometimes to be strong.”
“That’s all right, my lad, but, unfortunately, the Doyen was not there, so Cut-in-Half seized hold of the child by the waistband of his little breeches, and carried him to his own hole of a chamber, where the huge monkey was kept fastened to the foot of his bed. Directly the spiteful beast saw the boy, he began to jump and spring about, grinding his teeth like a mad thing, and darting towards Gringalet as near as his chain permitted him, as though he meant to devour him.”
“Poor Gringalet! How ever will he be able
to escape? If that beast of a monkey once gets hold of him he is safe to strangle him! I declare,” exclaimed the man in the blue cap, “the very thoughts of a poor innocent child being in such a dangerous situation makes me shiver from head to foot, and I seem as though I couldn’t hurt a worm. How do you feel, good friends?”
“The very same!” replied a burst of voices. “No more could we!”
At this moment the prison clock chimed forth the first quarter past three, and the Skeleton, becoming momentarily more and more apprehensive that the time would slip away without their being able to accomplish their design, and furious at the continued interruptions, as well as irritated at the evident sympathy and compassion awakened in the breasts of the prisoners by Pique-Vinaigre’s recital, called out in angry voice:
“Silence in the stone jug, I say! We shall never get to the end of this unlucky history if you persist in chiming in.”
The buzz of voices died away at these words, and Pique-Vinaigre thus continued:
“When it is recollected how much poor little Gringalet had had to endure before he could get used to his tortoise, and that even the boldest of his companions trembled and turned pale even at the mention of Gargousse’s name, it may very easily be imagined what deadly terror he experienced when he found himself placed by his master within the reach of the horrible monkey. ‘Oh, master, master!’ he cried, as his teeth rattled and shook in his head, as though he were under the influence of an ague fit, ‘pray — pray forgive me! Pray have mercy on me! I will never do so any more. Indeed, indeed, I never will! Oh, I promise you, master; only let me off this time, and I will never do so again!’ But all these prayers and supplications escaped almost unconsciously from the poor child, who had indeed committed no fault that called for such promises. Cut-in-Half, however, laughed at the boy’s terrors, and, spite of the struggles and resistance of the unhappy child, he dragged him within the grasp of Gargousse, who sprang upon him, and seized him with a savage grasp.”