by Eugène Sue
“‘This peculiar and unconventional procedure on my part, you will understand, I think. If your impression of me is favourable, I shall be both proud and happy to become Madame de Saint-Herem, and live in the Hôtel Saint-Ramon with you. I have a colossal fortune. It is at your disposal, for I trust my future to you, unreservedly, blindly. I shall await your decision anxiously. Good-evening.’ And with these words the fairy disappeared, leaving me intoxicated with happiness at my good fortune.”
“Florestan,” said Louis, with a grave but affectionate air, “the confidence this young woman has shown in coming to you so frankly and confidingly throws a weighty responsibility upon you.”
“I understand that,” responded Saint-Herem, with undoubted sincerity. “I may have squandered the fortune that belonged to me, and ruined myself, but to squander a fortune that does not belong to me, and ruin a woman who trusts her future so unreservedly to me, would be infamous.”
Madame Zomaloff married Florestan de Saint-Herem about one month after these events. Louis Richard, his father, and Mariette attended the wedding.
Father Richard, in spite of his resurrection, made no attempt to change the disposition Louis had made of his property up to the present time. The old man merely asked to be made steward of the home, and in that capacity he rendered very valuable assistance.
Every year, the twelfth of May is doubly celebrated.
Louis, his father, and Mariette, who are on the most intimate terms with M. and Madame de Saint-Herem, always attend the magnificent entertainment which is given at the Hôtel Saint-Ramon on the anniversary of the owner’s betrothal, but at midnight Florestan and his wife, who adore each other, for this marriage became a love match, pure and simple, come to partake of the bridal supper at Father Richard’s Home.
THE END
Anger
Anonymous 1899 translation, published by Francis A. Niccolls
For this story, the final instalment of The Seven Cardinal Sins, Sue transports to 1801, when Napoleon Bonaparte was in the ascendant. On a cold morning, two men meet to prepare for a duel, instigated by a judge named Yvon Cloarek, who feels that his good name has been slandered by Laurent, a lawyer. It was a mild enough insult and one which most men would shrug off, but Cloarek has a quick temper and an unforgiving nature and insists on the opportunity to protect his honour. ‘His obstinacy and his hot temper make him very difficult to get along with,’ says one of the two friends. The time for the duel arrives and Cloarek attacks his opponent with such ferocity that he soon wounds him and the duel is over. With the adrenaline still rushing through him, Yvon arrives back home to find the father of an accused man waiting for him. He tries to bribe Yvon to secure the acquittal of his son on the day of his trial; Cloarek is furious and taking the father to the town square, beats him savagely in front of the crowd.
Meanwhile, at his home, preparations are underway for the costumes for the masquerade ball that evening, to be hosted by the town’s most prominent judge. Segoffin, a family retainer of many years’ service, arrives at the house to reveal to the staff that Cloarek has in a rage pushed the senior judge out of a window. Amidst the shocked reaction, concern is expressed for the delicate Mme Cloarek, who is expecting another child. Cloarek will surely lose his position and what will become of his family then?
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER I.
THE DUEL.
ABOUT THE MIDDLE of the carnival season of 1801, a season enlivened by the news of the treaty of peace signed at Lunéville, when Bonaparte was First Consul of the French republic, the following scene took place in a secluded spot overshadowed by the partially dismantled ramparts of the city of Orléans.
It was seven o’clock in the morning, day was just dawning, and the cold was intense, as a tall man, enveloped in a big overcoat of a dark colour, walked to and fro blowing his fingers and stamping his feet, watching intently all the while a narrow footpath that wound around the side of the bastion. In about ten minutes another man, wrapped in a cloak, and heretofore concealed from sight by the projecting wall of the bastion, appeared in the path and hastily advanced toward the man in the long coat.
“I feared I should be late,” remarked the man in the cloak.
“We have a quarter of an hour yet,” replied the other. “Have you got the swords?”
“Here they are. I had a good deal of trouble in finding them; that was what detained me. Have you seen Yvon this morning?”
“No; he told me last night that I need not call for him. He feared that our going out together so early would excite his wife’s suspicions.”
“Well, while we are waiting for him, do enlighten me as to the cause of this quarrel. He was in too much of a hurry last night to tell me anything about the trouble.”
“Well, this is about the long and short of it. At the last meeting of the court, a lawyer, named Laurent, made a rather transparent allusion to the pretended partiality of our friend, one of the judges before whom the case was tried.”
“Such an insinuation was unworthy of the slightest notice. Yvon Cloarek’s honesty is above suspicion.”
“Of course; but you know our friend’s extreme irascibility of temper, also, so, springing from his seat and interrupting the advocate in the middle of his discourse, he exclaimed: ‘Monsieur Laurent, you are an infamous slanderer. I tell you this not as a magistrate, but as a man, and I will repeat the accusation after the session is over!’ You can imagine the commotion this excited in the court-room. It was an odd thing for a magistrate to do, I must admit. Well, after the court adjourned, the other judges tried to appease Yvon, and so did the numerous members of the bar, but you know how pig-headed our friend is. Laurent, too, who is a stubborn sort of fellow, not only refused to apologise himself, but demanded that our friend should. I thought Yvon would choke with rage.”
“It seems to me that our friend is right in resenting such an insinuation, but I fear that this duel will prove very detrimental to his career as a magistrate.”
“I am afraid so, too, particularly as he has had several lively altercations with the presiding judge of the court, and his violent temper has already compelled him to change his place of residence twice.”
“He is a noble fellow at heart, though.”
“Yes, but his obstinacy and his hot temper make him very hard to get along with.”
“With such a temperament, his choice of a career was very unfortunate, to say the least.”
“Yes, but his father, who was a magistrate himself, was anxious his son should adopt the same profession. Yvon adored his father, so he consented. Afterward, when he lost his father, it was too late for our friend to change his profession, even if he had desired to do so; besides, he possesses no fortune, and he has a wife and child, so he has to make the best of the situation.”
“That is true, but I pity him, nevertheless. But tell me, Yvon is a good swordsman, is he not?”
“Capital, for he was passionately fond of all such sports in his youth; but I am afraid his undoubted bravery and his hot temper will make him too rash.”
“And his opponent?”
“Is considered quite skilful in the use of the weapon. I have a cab a little way off in case of an accident. Yvon lives almost on the edge of the town, fortunately.”
“I can’t bear to think of any such catastrophe. It would be the death of his wife. You have no idea how
much she loves him. She is an angel of sweetness and goodness, and he, in turn, is perfectly devoted to her. They adore each other, and if — But there come the others. I am sorry Yvon did not get here before they did.”
“Doubtless the precautions he was obliged to take on his wife’s account detained him.”
“Probably, but it is very annoying.”
The three men who had just rounded the corner of the bastion proved to be Yvon’s adversary and his two seconds. They all greeted the first comers with great courtesy, apologising for having kept them waiting, whereupon M. Cloarek’s friends were obliged to reply that that gentleman had not yet arrived, but would doubtless be there in a minute or two.
One of the lawyer’s seconds then suggested that, to save time while awaiting M. Cloarek’s arrival, they might decide upon the ground, and the choice had just been made when Yvon made his appearance. His panting breath and the perspiration that bedewed his forehead showed how he must have hurried to reach the place even at this late hour, and as he cordially shook hands with his seconds he remarked to them, in a low tone:
“I had no end of trouble in getting off without exciting my wife’s suspicions.”
Then addressing his adversary in a tone he tried his best to make calm and composed, he added:
“I beg a thousand pardons, monsieur, for having kept you waiting. I assure you the delay was wholly unintentional on my part.”
The advocate bowed and proceeded to remove his overcoat, and his example was promptly followed by Cloarek, while the seconds measured the swords. In fact, so great was Yvon’s alacrity and ardour, that he was ready for the fray before his opponent, and would have hastily rushed upon him if his seconds had not seized him by the arm.
When the signal was at last given, Cloarek attacked his opponent with such impetuosity that, though the latter tried his best to parry his adversary’s rapid thrusts, his guard was beaten down, and in less than two minutes he had received a wound in the forearm which compelled him to drop his weapon.
“Enough, gentlemen!” exclaimed the seconds, on seeing one of the combatants disabled.
But, unfortunately, the Breton had become so frantic with rage, that he did not hear this “Enough, gentlemen,” and was about to renew the attack, when his opponent, who had conducted himself very creditably up to that time, being wholly unable to offer any further resistance, made a sudden spring backwards, and then started to run. The now thoroughly enraged Breton was starting in pursuit of him, when his seconds rushed upon him and disarmed him, though not without a fierce struggle and considerable danger, while one of the advocate’s seconds bound up his slight wound with a handkerchief. Cloarek’s second courteously offered his cab to the wounded man, who accepted it, and the parties separated amicably.
“What were you thinking of, Yvon, to rush upon an unarmed enemy?” asked one of the irascible magistrate’s friends, as they wended their way back to the city.
“I could not believe it was over so soon,” replied Yvon, with a sigh of regret.
“The fight couldn’t last long at the rate you were going on.”
“If I could only have an hour’s fighting, it seems to me I might be peaceable for a long time,” replied Yvon, so naïvely that his friends could not help laughing.
“Well, what of it?” stormed the choleric Breton, with a wrathful glance at his companions.
Then, ashamed of this ebullition of temper, he hung his head as one of his seconds retorted, gaily:
“You needn’t try to pick a quarrel with us, my dear fellow. It wouldn’t be worth your while. We should only be able to furnish you with a couple of minutes’ amusement.”
“Yes, yes, be sensible, my dear fellow,” good-naturedly remarked the other second. “You ought to consider yourself very fortunate that this affair ended as it did. You are not injured at all, and your adversary’s wound is very slight, — a very fortunate ending, you must admit. How we should have felt if we had had to carry you home dead! Think of your wife and your little daughter.”
“My wife and daughter!” exclaimed Cloarek, with a violent start. “Ah, yes, you are right.”
And the tears rose to his eyes.
“I am a fool, and worse than a fool,” he exclaimed. “But it is not my fault. A man who has too much blood is always quarrelling, as they used to say down in Brittany.”
“Then you had better put your feet in mustard water and call in a doctor to bleed you, my friend, but don’t take a sword for a lancet, and, above all, don’t draw blood from others under the pretext that you have too much yourself.”
“And above all, remember that you are a magistrate, a man of peace,” added the other.
“That is all very fine,” retorted Yvon, with a sigh, “but you don’t know what it is to have a judge’s robe on your back and too much blood in your veins.”
After he had thanked his seconds heartily for their kind offices, Cloarek was about to separate from them when one of them remarked: “We shall see each other again at the masquerade ball this evening, of course. I understand that all you reverend judges are to allow yourselves considerable license this evening, and disport yourselves like ordinary mortals.”
“I did not intend to go, as my wife is not as well as usual; but she insisted so much that I finally consented,” replied Yvon.
As he reëntered his house, longing to embrace his wife and child even more tenderly than usual, he was accosted by a servant, who said:
“There is a man in your office who wants to see you. His business is urgent, he says.”
“Very well. My wife did not ask for me after I went out, did she?”
“No, monsieur, she gave Dame Roberts orders that she was not to be disturbed until she rang, as she wanted to sleep a little later than usual this morning.”
“Then take care that she is not disturbed on my account,” said Cloarek, as he entered his office.
The person who was waiting for him was a tall, stout man about forty years of age, of herculean stature, with a coarse face, and clad in countrified garments. Bowing awkwardly to Yvon, he asked:
“Are you Judge Cloarek?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“I am a friend of Father Leblanc, at Gien. You remember him, don’t you?”
“Yes, and a very worthy man he is. How is his health?”
“Very good, judge. It was he who said to me: ‘If you’re in trouble, go to Judge Cloarek, he is always kind to us poor folks.’”
“What can I do for you?”
“I am the father of a young man who is soon to be tried before your court.”
“To what case do you allude, monsieur?”
“To the case of Joseph Rateau,” said the big man, with a meaning wink, “charged with forgery — only forgery.”
Cloarek, surprised and displeased at the careless manner in which the father spoke of the weighty accusation that was hanging over his son, answered, sternly:
“Yes, monsieur, a prisoner, Joseph Rateau, who is accused of the crime of forgery, is soon to be tried.”
“Yes, judge, and as there’s no use beating about the bush, I may as well say that my son did it, and then, like a fool, allowed himself to be caught.”
“Take care what you say, monsieur. This is a very grave admission on your part.”
“Oh, well, there is no use denying it, judge. It’s as plain as the nose on your face; but for that, do you suppose I would have come here—”
“Not another word, monsieur; not another word!” exclaimed Yvon, crimsoning with indignation and anger.
“I quite agree with you, judge. What is the use of talking so much, anyway? Actions speak louder than words.”
And putting his hand in one of the pockets of his long overcoat, he drew out a roll of money and, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger, he remarked, with a cunning smile and another knowing wink:
“There are fifty louis in here, and if you secure my son’s acquittal, you shall have another fifty.”
The
austerity and incorruptibility of the early days of the republic had given place to a deplorable laxness of morals, so the petitioner, believing his case won, triumphantly deposited his roll of gold on a corner of a desk near the door. Cloarek, quite beside himself with rage now, was about to give vent to his wrath and indignation when, his eyes chancing to fall upon a portrait of his wife that was hanging on the wall opposite him, he remembered that she might be disturbed and frightened by the noise, as she occupied the room directly over his office, so, with an almost superhuman effort, he managed to control himself and, picking up his hat, said to the countryman:
“Take your money. We will talk this matter over outside.”
“The countryman, fancying that the judge was influenced solely by prudential motives, put the money back in his pocket, and, taking his big stick unsuspectingly, followed Cloarek out of the house.
“Where are you going, judge?” he asked, as he lumbered along, finding it difficult to keep up with Cloarek, as the latter strode swiftly on.
“This way,” replied Yvon, in a smothered voice, as he turned the corner of the next street.
This street led to the market-place, which was generally crowded with people at that hour of the day. When Cloarek reached this square, he suddenly turned upon the countryman, and, seizing him by the cravat, cried, in tones of thunder:
“Look, good people, at this scoundrel. Look at him well, and then witness his chastisement.”
The days of popular agitation were not entirely over, and appeals to the populace as well as debates and harangues in public places were by no means rare, so a crowd speedily gathered around the judge and the countryman, who, in spite of his gigantic stature, had not succeeded in freeing himself from the iron grasp of Cloarek, who, shaking him violently, continued in even more vociferous tones:
“I am judge of the court in this town, and this wretch has offered me gold to acquit a criminal. That is the indignity he has offered me, and this is going to be his punishment.”
And this strange magistrate, whose rage and indignation seemed to endow him with superhuman strength, began to beat the stalwart countryman unmercifully, but the latter, wrenching himself from his assailant’s grasp, sprang back a foot or two, and, lifting his heavy stick, would probably have inflicted a mortal blow upon the enraged Breton if the latter, by one of those adroit manœuvres well known to his compatriots, had not avoided the danger by stooping and rushing, with lowered head, straight upon his adversary with such violence that the terrible blow, delivered straight in the chest, broke two of his ribs, and threw him backward upon the ground unconscious; then, taking advantage of the excitement in the crowd, Cloarek, desirous of escaping a public ovation if possible, hurried away, and, catching sight of an empty cab, sprang into it and ordered the driver to take him to the Palace of Justice, the hour for the court to open having arrived.