The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 3 of 6

Rigolette let go Rodolph's arm, and ran quickly to the dram-shop.

"But what has happened, Madame Pipelet?" inquired Rodolph, following the porteress into the lodge.

"How can I tell, my worthy sir? I had gone out to the mayor's, to church, and the cook-shop, to save Alfred so much trotting about; I returned, and what should I see but the dear old cosset with his legs and arms all in the air! There, M. Rodolph," said Anastasie, opening the door of her dog-hole, "say if that is not enough to break one's heart!"

Lamentable spectacle! With his bell-crowned hat still on his head, even further on than usual, for the ambiguous castor, pushed down, no doubt, by violence, to judge by a transverse gap, covered M. Pipelet's eyes, who was on his back on the ground at the foot of his bed. The fainting was over, and Alfred was beginning to make some slight gesticulations with his hands, as if he sought to repulse somebody or something, and then he tried to push off this troublesome visor, with which he had been bonneted.

"He kicks, – that's a beautiful symptom! He comes to!" exclaimed the porteress, who, stooping down, bawled in his ears, "What's the matter with my Alfred? It's his 'Stasie who is with him. How goes it now? There's some absinthe coming, that will set you up." Then, assuming a falsetto voice of much endearment, she added: "What, did they abuse and assassinate him, – the dear old darling, the delight of his 'Stasie, eh?"

Alfred heaved an immense sigh, and, with a mighty groan, uttered the fatal word:

"Cabrion!"

And his tremulous hands again seemed desirous of repulsing the fearful vision.

"Cabrion! What, that cussed painter again?" exclaimed Madame Pipelet. "Alfred dreamed of him all night long, so that he kicked me almost to death. This monster is his nightmare; not only does he poison his days, but he poisons his nights also, – he pursues him in his very sleep; yes, sir, as though Alfred was a malefactor, and this Cabrion, whom may Heaven confound! was his unceasing remorse."

Rodolph smiled, discreetly detecting some new freak of Rigolette's former neighbour.

"Alfred! answer me; don't remain mute, you frighten me," said Madame Pipelet; "let's try and get you up. Why, lovey, do you keep thinking of that vagabond fellow? You know that, when you think of that fellow, it has the same effect on you that cabbage has, – it fills up your pylorus and stifles you."

"Cabrion!" repeated M. Pipelet, pushing up, with an effort, the hat which had fallen so low over his eyes, which he rolled around him with an affrighted air.

Rigolette entered, carrying a small bottle of absinthe.

"Thankee, ma'amselle, you are so kind!" said the old body; and then she added, "Come, deary, suck this down, that will make you all right."

And Anastasie, presenting the phial quickly to M. Pipelet's lips, contrived to make him swallow the absinthe. In vain did Alfred struggle vigorously. His wife, taking advantage of the victim's weakness, held up his head firmly with one hand, whilst with the other she introduced the neck of the little bottle between his teeth, and compelled him to swallow the absinthe, after which she exclaimed, triumphantly:

"Ther-r-r-r-e, now-w-w! you're on your pins again, my ducky!"

And Alfred, having wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, opened his eyes, rose, and inquired, in accents of alarm:

"Have you seen him?"

"Who?"

"Is he gone?"

"Who, Alfred?"

"Cabrion!"

"Has he dared – " asked the porteress.

M. Pipelet, as mute as the statue of the commandant, like that redoubtable spectre, bowed his head twice with an affirmative air.

"What! has M. Cabrion been here?" inquired Rigolette, repressing a violent desire to laugh.

"What! has the monster been unchained on Alfred?" said Madame Pipelet. "Oh, if I had been there with my broom, he should have swallowed it, handle and all! But tell us, Alfred, all about this horrid affair."

M. Pipelet made signs with his hand that he was about to speak, and they listened to the man with the bell-crowned hat in religious silence, whilst he expressed himself in these terms, and in a voice of deep emotion:

"My wife had left me, to save me the trouble of going out, according to the request of monsieur," bowing to Rodolph, "to the mayor's, to church, and the cook-shop."

"The dear old darling had had the nightmare all night, and I wished to save him the journey," said Anastasie.

"This nightmare was sent me as a warning from on high," responded the porter, religiously. "I had dreamed of Cabrion, and I was to suffer from Cabrion. Here was I sitting quietly in front of my table, reflecting on an alteration which I wished to make in the upper leather of this boot confided to my hands, when I heard a noise, a rustling, at the window of my lodge, – was it a presentiment, a warning from on high? My heart beat, I lifted up my head, and, through the pane of glass, I saw – I saw – "

"Cabrion!" exclaimed Anastasie, clasping her hands.

"Cabrion!" replied M. Pipelet, gloomily. "His hideous face was there, pressed close against the window, and he was looking at me with eyes like a cat's – what do I say? – a tiger's! just as in my dream. I tried to speak, but my tongue clave to my mouth; I tried to rise, I was nailed to my seat. My boot fell from my hands, and, as in all the critical and important events of my life, I remained perfectly motionless. Then the key turned in the lock, the door opened, – Cabrion entered!"

"He entered? Owdacious monster!" replied Madame Pipelet, as much astonished as her spouse at such audacity.

"He entered slowly," resumed Alfred, "stopped a moment at the threshold, as if to fascinate me with his look, atrocious as it was, then he advanced towards me, pausing at each step, and piercing me through with his eye, but not uttering a word, – straight, mute, and threatening as a phantom!"

"I declare, my very heart aches to hear him," said Anastasie.

"I remained still more motionless, and glued to my chair; Cabrion still advanced slowly towards me, fixing his eye as the serpent glares at the bird; he so frightened me that, in spite of myself, I kept my eye on him; he came close to me, and then I could no longer endure his revolting aspect, it was too much, and I could not. I shut my eyes, and then I felt that he dared to place his hands upon my hat, which he took by the crown and lifted gently off my head, leaving it bare. I began to be seized with vertigo, my breathing was suspended, there was a singing in my ears, and I was completely fastened to my seat, and I closed my eyes still closer and closer. Then Cabrion stooped, took my head between his hands, which were as cold as death, and on my forehead, covered with an icy damp, he deposited a brazen kiss, indecent wretch!"

Anastasie lifted her hands towards heaven.

"My enemy, the most deadly, imprinted a kiss on my forehead; such a monstrosity overcame and paralysed me. Cabrion profited by my stupor to place my hat on my head, and then, with a blow of his fist, drove it down over my eyes, as you saw. This last outrage destroyed me; the measure was full, all about me was turning around, and I fainted at the moment when I saw him, from under the rim of my hat, leave the lodge as quietly and slowly as he had entered."

Then, as if the recital had exhausted all his strength, M. Pipelet fell back in his chair, raising his hands to heaven in a manner of mute imprecation. Rigolette went out quickly; she could not restrain herself any longer; her desire to laugh almost stifled her. Rodolph had the greatest difficulty to keep his countenance.

Suddenly there was a confused murmur, such as announces the arrival of a mob, heard from the street, and a great noise came from the door at the top of the entrance, and then butts of grounded muskets were heard on the steps of the door.

CHAPTER II

THE ARREST

"Good gracious! M. Rodolph," exclaimed Rigolette, running in, pale and trembling, "a commissary of police and the guard have come here."

"Divine justice watches over me," said M. Pipelet, in a transport of pious gratitude. "They have come to arrest Cabrion; unfortunately it is too late."

A commissary of police, wearing his tricoloured scarf around his waist underneath his black coat, entered the lodge. His countenance was impressive, magisterial, and serious.

"M. le Commissaire is too late; the malefactor has escaped," said M. Pipelet, in a sorrowful voice; "but I will give you his description, – villainous smile, impudent look, insulting – "

"Of whom do you speak?" inquired the magistrate.

"Of Cabrion, M. le Commissaire; but, perhaps, if you make all haste, it is not yet too late to catch him," added M. Pipelet.

"I know nothing about any Cabrion," said the magistrate, impatiently. "Does one Jérome Morel, a working lapidary, live in this house?"

"Yes, mon commissaire," said Madame Pipelet, putting herself into a military attitude.