by William Sage
CHAPTER XIX
TAPPEUR AND PETITSOU
"What are you bringing us now?" growled a voice from a corner of thecell. Gaillard heard the rustling of straw, but his eyes were not enoughaccustomed to the gloom to enable him to see what sort of being it waswho gave utterance to this harsh welcome.
"Are not two enough in a trap like this?" the speaker went on, risingand coming forward. "There's hardly enough air for us as it is, withoutyour putting in another one."
"So it's you, Tappeur, complaining again," remarked the jailer. "You hadbetter be thankful you're not four in a cell as they are in most ofthem. The prison is full to overflowing. No matter how many they takeout, there's always more to fill their places. You'll have to make thebest of it." And he closed the door with an unfeeling slam.
Tappeur brushed some of the straw from his hair and beard. "A plagueupon these suspects that fill up our prisons!" he exclaimed with anoath; "we honest criminals have to put up with the vilest accommodationsbecause you crowd us to the wall by force of numbers. You _are_ asuspect, aren't you?" he demanded, coming nearer and putting a dirtyface close to Gaillard's.
The cell which they occupied was below the level of the ground. Overheadat the juncture of the ceiling and wall was a grating through which cameall the light and air they received.
"You are a suspect, is it not so?" repeated Tappeur as Gaillard made noanswer.
"I have not the honor of being an 'honest criminal,'" replied the actor,drawing away with a movement of disgust from the seamed and distortedvisage thrust close to his.
"Bah, I thought not," said Tappeur with another oath. "Well, suspect,come over here under the grating and let me take a good look at yourface," and he seized Gaillard roughly by the arm.
Tappeur received a violent blow on the chest which sent him reeling intoa dark corner of the cell, clutching at the empty air as if to sustainhimself by catching hold of the shadows. His fall to the ground wasfollowed by an explosion of oaths in a new voice, in which explosionTappeur himself joined vigorously.
"I've stirred up a nest of them," said Gaillard to himself, and thenstood awaiting developments.
The torrent of profanity having exhausted itself, Tappeur emerged fromthe shadowy recess of the wall followed by a smaller man.
"How do you like my looks?" inquired Gaillard cheerfully.
"I'm satisfied for the present," replied Tappeur.
"Your fist is hard enough; what may your trade be?"
"I have no regular profession, I'm a little of everything. What'syours?"
"I belong to the 'Brotherhood of the Ready Hand.' Our motto is 'Stealand Kill;' our watchward 'Blood and Death;' and our coat of arms 'A Cordand Gallows.'" And Tappeur chuckled gleefully.
"You are evidently a rare accumulation of talent and virtue. I shouldenjoy knowing more of you. Is this a member of your band?" and Gaillardpointed to the man who had just been awakened, and who was yawning andstretching his arms.
"Our band, oh no, this is the great Petitsou."
"And who is Petitsou?"
"What! you don't know Petitsou?" demanded Tappeur pityingly.
"Never heard of him."
"He never even heard of you, Petitsou!" exclaimed Tappeur, turning tohis companion with a gesture of disgust.
Petitsou shrugged his shoulders in reply, as if to say, "He has been theonly loser."
"Pray let me be compensated for my ill fortune, by learning all aboutyou now, Citizen Petitsou."
"I have made more counterfeit money than any man in France now living, Imight say more than any man who ever has lived, but I believe some oneor two of the old kings have surpassed me," said Petitsou.
"He is an artist," whispered Tappeur; "he does not make you a clumsy,bungling coin only to be palmed off upon women and blind men. He createsan article finer to look at than the government mint can produce._Pardieu_, I'd rather have a pocket full of his silver than that bearingeither the face of Louis Capet or of this new Republic." And Tappeurlooked at his friend the artist admiringly.
"It was when the government issued these assignats that my great fortunewas made," continued Petitsou. "In fact, it was too much success thatbrought me here. I found them so easy to make that I manufactured themby the wholesale. I stored my cellar with them. I even had the audacityto make the government a small loan in assignats on which I did theentire work myself, reproducing the very signatures of the officials whoreceived the funds. Oh, it was a rare sport."
"But your forgeries were finally detected?" said Gaillard inquiringly.
"The workmanship and the signatures never. I could have gone on makingenough to buy up the whole government, but for a mishap. I made aglaring error in the date of a certain issue of assignats. I never likedthe new calendar, and always had to take particular care to get itright, but one day my memory slipped up, and I dated a batch of onehundred thousand francs, November 14, 1793, instead of 25th Brumaire,year II. Oh, that was an unpardonable slip, and I deserved to pay thepenalty."
"It seems cruel," remarked Gaillard, "to keep a useful member ofsociety, like you, in this filthy dungeon."
"The greatest cruelty is in keeping the materials of my trade away fromme. They know my love for my art, and take delight in torturing me.Although I promise not to try any dodge, they won't trust me. If theywould only let me have a little pen, ink, and paper, I should be happy."
"Pen, ink, and paper?" repeated Gaillard. "That's a modest desire."
"They won't let him have them," put in Tappeur. "He'd play them allsorts of tricks. He'd forge all sorts of documents, and worry the lifeout of the jailers."
The door opened a few inches, and a jug of water and a large square loafmade their appearance, pushed in by an invisible hand.
"Let's divide our rations for the day," suggested Petitsou. "Have theygiven us a larger loaf, Tappeur, on account of our increased number?"
"But very little larger," replied Tappeur, picking up the loaf of blackbread and surveying it hungrily.
"Is that all we receive in the way of food?" asked Gaillard ruefully. Hehad missed his usual supper after the theatre the night before, and wasquite ready for breakfast.
"That's all, unless you've got money. You can buy what you like withthat." And Tappeur eyed him slyly out of his deep-set eyes.
"What do you say to some wine in place of this cold water, and somewhite bread, with perhaps a little sausage added by the way of relish?"suggested Gaillard mildly.
"Hey, you jailer!" called out Tappeur, frantically rushing toward thedoor, fearful lest the man might be out of hearing. The jailer retracedhis steps reluctantly.
"A commission from the new lodger. A bottle of wine. A white loaf inplace of this vile, sour stuff, and some sweet little sausage. A littletobacco also. Am I not right, my comrade?" asked Tappeur, looking atGaillard inquiringly.
"Some tobacco, of course," nodded Gaillard, producing a coin.
"Have it strong; I have tasted none for so long that it must bite mytongue to make up for lost time. Hurry with thy commissions my goodlittle citizen jailer; the new lodger is hungry, and we, too, have nosmall appetites."
"Tobacco," said Petitsou, "next to ink and paper, I have longed forthat. And I have money, too!" and he produced a five-franc piece. "Asgood a piece of silver as ever rang from the government mint, and yetthat cursed jailer refuses to take it, or bring me the smallest portionof tobacco for it. The donkey fears I have manufactured it here on thepremises, or that I extracted it from thin air like a magician."
The breakfast being brought, Tappeur rolled a couple of large stonestoward the lightest portion of the cell, and placed a board across themfor a table. They had nothing to sit upon but their heels. The twocriminals had accustomed themselves to this method of sitting at meals,but Gaillard found it more comfortable to partake of his food standingwith his shoulders to the wall.
"Fall to, comrades!" cried Tappeur, breaking off an end of the loaf andtaking a sausage in his other hand. "There's no cup, so we must drinkfrom the
bottle." And he handed the wine to Gaillard first, by way ofattention.
Gaillard put the bottle to his lips and took a long draught of thecontents while Tappeur watched him anxiously. He then passed it over toPetitsou, who treated it in a like manner. Tappeur received it in histurn in thankful silence, and after having punished it severely, put itdown by his side. Gaillard helped himself to a piece of bread and asausage, and ate with good appetite, leaving his new companions tofinish the wine, to the evident satisfaction of those two worthies.
"You have a hard fist, my brave comrade!" exclaimed Tappeur, filling apipe as short and grimy as the thumb that pushed the tobacco down intothe bowl. "A hard fist and a free purse and Tappeur is your friend forlife." To give emphasis to his words he puffed a cloud of blue smoke upinto Gaillard's face, and drained the last few drops of wine in theflagon.
"That's very good stuff," he continued, balancing the empty bottle uponits nose, "but brandy would be more satisfying."
Gaillard refused to take the hint, and turned away to spread his cloakin a corner of the cell, where he lay down upon it and was soon in adeep sleep.
Week followed week, and Gaillard continued to live below the ground farfrom the sunlight which he loved so dearly, while Tournay, confined inthe cell upon the second floor, wondered why he received no word fromthe friend in the outside world.
Thus they lived within one hundred yards of each other, thinking of eachother daily, and with no means of communication. One thing Gaillard hadto be thankful for, and that was the sum of money the theatre managerhad paid him on the very night of his arrest. With it he had purchasedmany comforts to make his life more bearable. He had procured a freshsupply of straw and a warm blanket for his bed; some candles and a roughchair upon which he took turns in sitting with the two jail-birds, hiscompanions, although at meals he always occupied it by tacit consent.
Under the influence of the additional food which Gaillard's pursesupplied, Tappeur grew fat and better natured, though he swore none theless, and drank and smoked all that Gaillard would provide for him.Indeed, he thought the actor a little niggardly in furnishing thebrandy, and one day, after a good meal, was inclined to be swaggering,intimating that, with respect to drink, the rations should be increased.Whereupon Gaillard cut off his potations entirely for twenty-four hours,and he became as meek as a lamb and remained so ever after.
Both the bully and Petitsou would frequently regale Gaillard with longaccounts of their past crimes. During the recitals, Tappeur, althoughalways boastful on his own account, showed a certain deference to theforger.
"I can cut a throat or rob a purse with the best blackguard in France,"he would say to the actor, "but that little Petitsou is the trueartist."
Notwithstanding these diversions, the time dragged wearily, andGaillard's face began to lose its roundness, while the smile did notbroaden his wide mouth so frequently as of old. His money began to getlow, and he looked forward with dread to the time when it would beentirely gone and he would have to divide the musty black loaf and thepitcher of fetid water with the two criminals, without the wherewithalto buy even such good nature and entertainment as they could furnish. Helonged for the time of his trial to come. He knew from what he had heardof the experiences of others, that he might be called for trial any day,or that he might languish in jail for months, forgotten and neglected.Every day when he asked the jailer who brought their food, "Have I notbeen called for trial?" and received the response, "Not to-day," hisheart sank lower.
One day when he had only five francs left in his purse, and hadrefrained from ordering any wine, much to Tappeur's disgust, the jailercame to inform him that he was to come forth for trial.
"Good luck attend you, citizen actor," said Petitsou, with some show offriendship, as Gaillard prepared to leave them, smiling.
"As we must lose you in one way or another," called out Tappeur afterhim as he disappeared down the corridor, "let us hope that the nationalrazor will not bungle when it shaves you, my brave."
Gaillard's spirits rose as he came up to the light of day. In a fewhours he would know what his destiny would be, and the fresh air gavehim renewed courage to meet it. His wish to learn just what fate hadovertaken Tournay gave him an additional interest in life.
Passing through the main corridor he heard his name called, and lookingtoward the corridor of the upper tier he saw the face of his friend.
It was only an instant, and then Gaillard passed out with others to thestreet. At first Tournay's heart throbbed with apprehension at the sightof his friend. He had feared all along that had Gaillard been at libertyhe would have received some message from him, or other evidence of hisexistence, and now his fears were confirmed. Yet somehow the very sightof Gaillard's cheerful face, smiling up at him, reassured him.
"Am called for trial," the actor's lips framed. "And you?" Tournay madea negative gesture.
"Paper destroyed," Gaillard next signaled with his lips, but he darednot make the words too plain for fear of detection, and the message waslost on Tournay. Then they saw each other no longer.
It was into a small court room that Gaillard saw himself conducted. Helooked round with surprise. The trials were usually attended by largeand interested crowds of people.
"I am evidently considered of small importance, and so am disposed of byan inferior court," thought he. "So much the better."
The case being tried at the moment was one of petty larceny. "The othercourts must be doing an enormous business, to oblige them to turn someof us over to these little criminal courts," continued Gaillard musinglyas the affair in question was disposed of and he was called.
"Read the act of accusation," said the judge, "and hurry the affair. Iwish to go to dinner."
"Don't let me detain you," thought Gaillard. Then he put his hands tohis head to ascertain if his ears were in their proper place, for hecould not understand a word of the accusation as read by the clerk. Heheard a jumble about "coat," "personal assault," "refused payment," thenlooked in bewilderment at the judge and prosecuting attorney, till fromthem his eyes wandered about the dingy court room. All at once the sightof a face in the witness box caused a light to flash through his brain,and elucidate the whole matter. He recognized his tailor, who sat withvindictive eyes, holding over his arm the identical coat that had beenthe cause of the dispute on the very day of his arrest.
Gaillard could barely repress his merriment. The rancor of the littletailor had followed him to prison, and dragged him out to answer acomplaint of assault and intent to defraud.
"I wonder," thought Gaillard, "if I am convicted and sentenced for thiscrime, and subsequently condemned to the guillotine, which penalty Ishall have to pay first?"
"Have you any counsel, prisoner?" demanded the judge.
"I will plead my own case," replied Gaillard cheerfully.
"Call the complainant and witness."
After a long recital on the part of the tailor of the history of thecoat, and the treatment he had received at the hands of the brutalprisoner, during which the judge yawned, indicating his desire to getout to dinner, Gaillard took the stand.
"My sole defense," said he smilingly, "is that the tailor wittingly,maliciously, and falsely, endeavored to palm off upon me, a poor actor,a garment never made for me."
"How will you prove it?" demanded the judge.
"By simply trying on the coat," answered Gaillard. "If you decide it wasmade for me, I will abandon my defense."
"Let the prisoner have the garment," ordered the judge.
Gaillard slowly proceeded to divest himself of his own coat and don theoffending garment which the tailor now presented to him reluctantly.
It had fitted him badly on the first occasion he had tried it on, andnow, by a slight contortion of his supple body, the actor made themisfit ridiculously apparent.
The court officers grinned, even the judge could not repress a smile,and the tailor looked foolish.
"That is quite sufficient," said the justice. "How much did the tailorw
ant you to pay for this grotesque garment?"
"Two hundred francs the bill calls for."
"Two hundred francs?" ejaculated the judge.
"In gold coin," emphasized Gaillard.
"It is very expensive material," explained the tailor ruefully.
"Down how many flights of stairs does the complaint state the prisonerkicked the tailor?" asked the judge.
"Only one short one," volunteered Gaillard, grinning at the discomfitedtailor.
"Only one short one?" repeated the judge. "You were very moderate; suchan absurd garment would have justified three flights."
There was a laugh in the court room. The judge tapped for order.
"The prisoner is discharged," he said.
Gaillard rose and looked for the guards who had escorted him from theLuxembourg, thankful for the brief respite he had had from the tedium ofconfinement.
"You are a free man, Citizen Gaillard," said the judge, waving his handtoward the open door.
"Do you mean I can leave the court room by that door?" asked Gaillard,his heart rising up in his throat.
"Certainly; I dismiss the complaint."
"Thank you, your honor," said Gaillard, stepping quickly through thedoorway into the street.
"Your honor!" gasped a court attendant hurriedly appearing at thejudge's desk.
"I have no time to listen to anything further now. I am off to dinner,"said the judge snappishly.
"But does your honor know? Is your honor aware that the prisoner was asuspect from the Luxembourg, brought here by me for trial on this chargeof assault, to be returned after"--
"Bring him back at once!" yelled the judge. "You idiot, why didn't yousay so before?"
"But, your honor, I"--
"After him, constables; be quick, he cannot have gone fifty yards."
Half a dozen men rushed into the street and looked in all directions.But Gaillard was not to be seen.