The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 2 of 6

RIGOLETTE

Louise, the daughter of the lapidary, was possessed of more than ordinary loveliness of countenance, a fine, tall, graceful person, uniting, by the strict regularity of her faultless features and elegance of her figure, the classic beauty of Juno with the lightness and elegance assigned to the statue of the hunting Diana. Spite of the injury her complexion had received from exposure to weather, and the redness of her well-shaped hands and arms, occasioned by household labour, – despite even the humble dress she wore, the whole appearance of Louise Morel was stamped with that indescribable air of grace and superiority Nature sometimes is pleased to bestow upon the lowly-born, in preference to the descendant of high lineage.

We shall not attempt to paint the joy, the heartfelt gratitude of this family, so wondrously preserved from so severe a calamity; even the recent death of the little girl was forgotten during the first burst of happiness. Rodolph alone found leisure to remark the extreme paleness and utter abstraction of Louise, whose first ecstasy at finding her father free passed away, apparently plunged in a deep and painful reverie. Anxious to relieve the mind of Morel of any apprehensions for the future, and also to explain a liberality which might have raised suspicions as to the character he chose to assume, Rodolph drew the lapidary to the further end of the staircase, leaving to Rigolette the task of acquainting Louise with the death of her little sister, and said to him:

"Did not a young lady come to visit you and your family on the morning of the day before yesterday?"

"Yes, and appeared much grieved to see the distress we were in."

"Then you must thank her, – not me."

"Can it be possible, sir? That young lady – "

"Is your benefactress. I frequently wait upon her from our warehouse; when I hired an apartment here, I learned from the porteress all the particulars of your case, and the painful situation you were placed in; relying on this lady's well-known kindness and benevolence, I hastened to acquaint her with all I had heard respecting you; and, the day before yesterday, she came herself, in order to be fully aware of the extent of your misery. The distress she witnessed deeply affected her; but as it might have been brought about by misconduct, she desired me to take upon myself the task of inquiring into every circumstance relative to your past and present condition with as little delay as possible, being desirous of regulating her benevolent aid by the good or bad accounts she might receive of your honesty and good conduct."

"Kind, excellent lady! Well might I say – "

"As you observed just now to Madeleine, 'If the rich did but know!' – was not that it?"

"Is it possible that you are acquainted with the name of my wife? Who could have told you that?"

"My worthy friend," said Rodolph, interrupting Morel, "I have been concealed in the little garret adjoining your attic since six o'clock this morning."

"Have you, indeed, sir?"

"Yes, my honest fellow, I have, and from my hiding-place heard all that passed among you."

"Oh, sir! but why did you do so?"

"I could not have employed more satisfactory means of getting at your real character and sentiments; and I was desirous of seeing and hearing all you did or said without your being aware of my presence. The porter had made me acquainted with this small retreat, which he offered to me for a wood-closet. This morning, I asked his permission to visit it, and remained there more than an hour, during which time I had ample proof that a more upright, noble mind did not exist, and that the courageous resignation with which you bore your heavy trials was above all praise."

"Nay, indeed, sir, I do not merit such words as these. I was born honest, I hope, and it comes natural to me to act as I have done."

"I am quite sure of that; therefore I do not laud your conduct, I appreciate it. Just as I was about to quit my hiding-place, to relieve you of the presence of the bailiffs, I heard the voice of your daughter, and I meant to have allowed her the happiness of saving you. Unhappily, the rapacity of the men deprived poor Louise of the full completion of her pious task. I then made my appearance. Fortunately, I yesterday received several sums that were due to me, so that I was enabled to advance the money for your benefactress, and to pay off your unfortunate debt. But your distress has been so great, so unmerited, and so nobly sustained, that the well-deserved interest you have excited shall not stop here; and I take upon myself, in the name of your preserving angel, to promise you henceforward calmness, peace, and happiness, for yourself and family."

"Can it be possible? But, at least, sir, let me beseech you to tell me the name of this angel of goodness, – this heavenly preserver, – that it may dwell in our hearts and on our lips! By what name shall we bless her in our prayers?"

"Think of her and speak of her as the angel she is. Ah, you were right in saying just now that both rich and poor had their sorrows!"

"And is this dear lady, then, unhappy?"

"Who is free from care and suffering in this world of trial? But I see no cause for concealing from you the name of your protectress. The lady, then, is named – "

Remembering that Madame Pipelet was aware of Madame d'Harville's having, at her first coming to the house, inquired for the commandant, and fearing her indiscreet mention of the circumstance, Rodolph resumed, after a short pause:

"I will venture to tell you this lady's name, upon one condition – "

"Pray go on, sir."

"That you never mention it again to any one, – mind, I say to any person whatever."

"I solemnly promise you never to let it pass my lips; but may I not hope to be permitted to thank this friend of the unfortunate?"

"I will let Madame d'Harville know your wish; but I scarcely think she will consent to it."

"Then this generous lady is called – "

"The Marquise d'Harville."

"Never will that name be forgotten by me! Henceforward it will be to me as that of my patron saint, – the object of my grateful worship! Oh, when I remember that, thanks to her, my wife, children, – all, are saved! – saved – no, no, not all, – my little Adèle has gone from us! We shall see her sweet face no more; but still, I know we must have parted with her sooner or later; the dear child's doom was long since decreed!"

Here the poor lapidary wiped away the tears which filled his eyes at the recollection of his lost darling.

"As for the last duties that have now to be performed for your poor child," said Rodolph, "if you will be guided by me, this is how we will arrange it. I have not yet begun to occupy my chamber; it is large, airy, and convenient. There is already one bed in it; and I will give orders to add all that may be requisite for the accommodation of yourself and family, until Madame d'Harville is enabled to find an eligible abode for you. The remains of your little daughter can then be left in your attic, where, until the period of interment, they can be properly watched and guarded by a priest with all requisite attention. I will request M. Pipelet to take upon himself every necessary arrangement for the mournful office of laying the poor babe in its peaceful grave."

"Nay, sir, – but, indeed, I cannot allow you to be turned out of your apartment! Now that we are so happily freed from our misery, and that I have no longer the dread of being dragged to prison, our poor garret will seem to me like a palace, – more especially if my Louise remains to watch over the family as she used to do."

"Your daughter shall never again quit you. You said, awhile ago, that the first desire of your heart was to have Louise always with you. Well then, as a reward for your past sufferings, I promise you she shall never leave you more."

"Oh, sir, this is too much; it cannot be reality! It seems as though I were dreaming some happy dream. I fear I have never been as religious as I ought. I have, in fact, known no other religion than that of honour. But such a reverse, such a change from wretchedness to joy, would make even an atheist believe, if not in priests, at least in a gracious, interposing, and preserving Providence."

"And if," said Rodolph, sadly, "a father's sorrow for the loss of his child can be assuaged by promises of rewards or recompense, I would say that the heavenly hand which takes one child from you gives you back the other."

"True, – most true! And henceforward our dear Louise will be with us to help us to forget our poor Adèle."

"Then you will accept the offer of my chamber, will you not? Or else how shall we be able to arrange for the mournful duties to the poor infant? Think of your wife, whose head is already in so weak a state. It will never do to allow her to remain with so afflicting a spectacle constantly before her eyes."

"What goodness," exclaimed the lapidary, "thus to remember all, – to think of all! Oh, you are indeed a friend! May Heaven bless and recompense you!"

"Come, you must reserve your thanks for the excellent lady you term your protecting angel. 'Tis her goodness inspires me with a desire to imitate her benevolence and charity. I feel assured I am but speaking as she would speak, were she here, and that all I do she will fully approve. So now, then, it is arranged you will occupy my room. But, just tell me, this Jacques Ferrand – "

The forehead of Morel became clouded over at the mention of this name.

"I suppose," continued Rodolph, "there is no doubt as to his being the same Jacques Ferrand who practises as a notary in the Rue du Sentier?"

"None whatever, sir," answered Morel; "but do you know him?" Then, assailed afresh by his fears for Louise, the lapidary continued: "Since you overheard all our conversation, tell me, sir, – tell me, do you not think I have just cause to hate this man, as I do? For who knows but my daughter – my Louise – "

The unhappy artisan could not proceed; he groaned with anguish, and concealed his face with his hands.

Rodolph easily divined the nature of his apprehensions.

"The very step taken by the notary ought to reassure your mind," said he, "as, there can be no doubt, he was instigated by revenge for your daughter's rejection of his improper advances to proceed to the hostile measures adopted. However, I have every reason to believe he is a very bad and dangerous man; and if my suspicions respecting him are realised," said Rodolph, after a few moments' silence, "then rely on Providence to punish him. If the just vengeance of the Almighty seems occasionally to slumber, it awakens, sooner or later."

"He is both rich and hypocritical!" cried the lapidary.

"At the moment of your deepest despair, a guardian angel appeared to save you from ruin; so, at the moment when least expected, will an inexorable Avenger call upon the notary to atone for his past crimes, if he be guilty."

At this moment Rigolette came out of the miserable garret belonging to Morel; the kind-hearted girl had evidently been shedding tears, and was trying to dry her eyes before she descended the stairs. Directly Rodolph perceived her, he exclaimed: