The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 1 of 6

"Adieu, father! adieu, Madame Georges! I commend your child to your care, – our child, I should say. Farewell, Marie; I will soon come and see you again."

The venerable pastor, leaning on the arms of Madame Georges and La Goualeuse, who supported his tottering steps, left the room to see Rodolph depart.

The last rays of the sun shed their light on this interesting yet sad group:

An old priest, the symbol of charity, pardon, and everlasting hope; a female, overwhelmed by every grief that can distress a wife and mother; a young girl, hardly out of her infancy, and but recently thrown into an abyss of vice through misery and the close contact with crime.

Rodolph got into the carriage, Murphy took his place by his side, and the horses set off at speed.

CHAPTER XII

THE RENDEZVOUS

The day after he had confided the Goualeuse to the care of Madame Georges, Rodolph, still dressed as a mechanic, was, at noon precisely, at the door of a cabaret with the sign of the Panier-Fleuri, not far from the barrier of Bercy.

The evening before, at ten o'clock, the Chourineur was punctual to the appointment which Rodolph had fixed with him. The result of this narrative will inform our readers of the particulars of the meeting. It was twelve o'clock, and the rain fell in torrents; the Seine, swollen by perpetual falls of rain, had risen very high, and overflowed a part of the quay. Rodolph looked from time to time, with a gesture of impatience, towards the barrier, and at last observed a man and woman, who were coming towards him under the shelter of an umbrella, and whom he recognised as the Chouette and the Schoolmaster.

These two individuals were completely metamorphosed. The ruffian had laid aside his ragged garments and his air of brutal ferocity. He wore a long frock coat of green cloth, and a round hat; whilst his shirt and cravat were remarkable for their whiteness. But for the hideousness of his features and the fierce glance of his eyes, always restless and suspicious, this fellow might have been taken, by his quiet and steady step, for an honest citizen.

The Chouette was also in her Sunday costume, wearing a large shawl of fine wool, with a large pattern, and held in her hand a capacious basket.

The rain having ceased for the moment, Rodolph, overcoming a sensation of disgust, went to meet the frightful pair. For the slang of the tapis-franc the Schoolmaster now substituted a style almost polished, and which betokened a cultivated mind, in strange contrast with his real character and crimes. When Rodolph approached, the brigand made him a polite bow, and the Chouette curtseyed respectfully.

"Sir, your humble servant," said the Schoolmaster. "I am delighted to pay my respects to you – delighted – or, rather, to renew our acquaintance; for the night before last you paid me two blows of the fist which were enough to have felled a rhinoceros. But not a word of that now; it was a joke on your part, I am sure, – merely done in jest. Let us not say another word about it, for serious business brings us now together. I saw the Chourineur yesterday, about eleven o'clock, at the tapis-franc, and appointed to meet him here to-day, in case he chose to join us, – to be our fellow labourer; but it seems that he most decidedly refuses."

"You, then, accept the proposal?"

"Your name, sir, if you be so good?"

"Rodolph."

"M. Rodolph, we will go into the Panier-Fleuri, – neither myself nor madame has breakfasted, – and we will talk over our little matters whilst we are taking a crust."

"Most willingly."

"We can talk as we go on. You and the Chourineur certainly do owe some satisfaction to my wife and myself, – you have caused us to lose more than two thousand francs. Chouette had a meeting near St. Ouen with the tall gentleman in mourning, who came to ask for you at the tapis-franc. He offered us two thousand francs to do something to you. The Chourineur has told me all about this. But, Finette," said the fellow, "go and select a room at the Panier-Fleuri, and order breakfast, – some cutlets, a piece of veal, a salad, and a couple of bottles of vin de beaune, the best quality, – and we will join you there."

The Chouette, who had not taken her eye off Rodolph for a moment, went off after exchanging looks with the Schoolmaster, who then said:

"I say, M. Rodolph, that the Chourineur has edified me on the subject of the two thousand francs."

"What do you mean by edified you?"

"You are right, – the language is a little too refined for you. I would say that the Chourineur nearly told me all that the tall gentleman in mourning, with his two thousand francs, required."

"Good."

"Not so good, young man; for the Chourineur, having yesterday morning met the Chouette, near St. Ouen, did not leave her for one moment, when the tall gentleman in mourning came up, so that he could not approach and converse with her. You, then, ought to put us in the way of regaining our two thousand francs."

"Nothing easier; but let us 'hark back.' I had proposed a glorious job to the Chourineur, which he at first accepted, but afterwards refused to go on with."

"He always had very peculiar ideas."

"But whilst he refused he observed to me – "

"He made you observe – "

"Oh, diable! You are very grand with your grammar."

"It is my profession, as a schoolmaster."

"He made me, then, observe, that if he would not go on this 'lay,' he did not desire to discourage any other person, and that you would willingly lend a hand in the affair."

"May I, without impertinence, ask why you appointed a meeting with the Chourineur at St. Ouen yesterday, which gave him the advantage of meeting the Chouette? He was too much puzzled at my question to give me a clear answer."

Rodolph bit his lips imperceptibly, and replied, shrugging his shoulders:

"Very likely; for I only told him half my plan, you must know, not knowing if he had made up his mind."

"That was very proper."

"The more so as I had two strings to my bow."

"You are a careful man. You met the Chourineur, then, at St. Ouen, for – "

Rodolph, after a moment's hesitation, had the good luck to think of a story which would account for the want of address which the Chourineur had displayed, and said:

"Why, this it is. The attempt I propose is a famous one, because the person in question is in the country; all my fear was that he should return to Paris. To make sure, I went to Pierrefitte, where his country-house is situated, and there I learned that he would not be back again until the day after to-morrow."

"Well, but to return to my question; why did you appoint to meet the Chourineur at St. Ouen?"

"Why, you are not so bright as I took you for. How far is it from Pierrefitte to St. Ouen?"

"About a league."

"And from St. Ouen to Paris?"

"As much."

"Well, if I had not found any one at Pierrefitte, – that is, if there had been an empty house there, – why, there also would have been a good job; not so good as in Paris, but still well worth having. I went back to the Chourineur, who was waiting for me at St. Ouen. We should have returned then to Pierrefitte, by a cross-path which I know, and – "

"I understand. If, on the contrary, the job was to be done in Paris?"

"We should have gained the Barrier de l'Étoile by the road of the Rivolte, and thence to the Allée des Veuves – "

"Is but a step; that is plain enough. At St. Ouen you were well placed for either operation, – that was clear; and now I can understand why the Chourineur was at St. Ouen. So the house in the Allée des Veuves will be uninhabited until the day after to-morrow?"

"Uninhabited, except the porter."